Once upon a time there lived, in a tiny village in Austria, a
wheelwright and his family. The wheelwright was poor, industrious, and
God-fearing. He lived in a cottage which seemed almost too small for the
large family of children. But they were so happy together that they did
not mind a little crowding.
The second of the Haydn children was a boy, whom the good old village
priest had christened Francis Joseph. He lived a merry life, romping
with his brothers and sisters. They liked to play about the door of the
shop where their father was making wheels and carriages.
[Illustration: FRANCIS JOSEPH HAYDN]
Better than this, they liked the Sundays, when the good father was at
home all day. After dinner they were sure to have some music, and Joseph
looked forward eagerly to this time. The father had a good voice, and
well did he sing the native songs of his country. Although he sang
well, he did not know one note of music from another.
The wheelwright's wife played the harp while her husband sang. Little
Joseph used to bring his stool close beside his mother to listen as she
played. Sometimes he kept the time by clapping with his chubby little
hands. Sometimes he joined his sweet childish voice with his father's.
When Joseph Haydn was still very small, he was sent toddling off to
school. When lessons were over and all the rest of the children
scampered to their play, Joseph lingered in the schoolroom. His eyes
grew round with wonder as the master played upon his violin.
"That is easy," thought the boy; "I will find two smooth pieces of wood
and make myself a violin." And he did. At the next Sunday afternoon
concert Joseph took his place as usual on his little stool; but he
carried the violin, which he had made, in his hands. At the first notes
from the harp he began to move one piece of wood across the other in
perfect time with the music.
Before Joseph was quite six years old, he was able to stand up in the
choir of the old village church and lead the singing. His voice was not
strong, but it was true and sweet.
The father was proud of his son. He said to himself: "The boy must be
taught music. Perhaps some day he will become a great musician. If I
were not so poor, I should send him to a teacher."
By and by a visitor came to the Haydn home. This man was a musician and
the wheelwright's cousin. It was not long before he noticed Joseph's
talent for music. "Let the lad come home with me," he said to Joseph's
father, "and he shall sing in my choir and be taught music properly."
The father gladly gave his consent. When the mother was asked, she was
at first unwilling. "He is still so young," she said, "I fear that he
will not be well cared for. I have always taught him to be neat and
clean. Away from home he might fall into bad habits. I can not let him
go!"
The father and cousin begged her to change her mind, telling her that
the boy would learn much about music. They promised that he should be
well cared for. At last she consented and with tears in her eyes made
Joseph ready for his journey.
Joseph himself, six years old, was not at all sad at parting. He was
very glad to go with his cousin to the great town. He said good-by to
the schoolmaster and his playmates. He went once more to the little
village church and knelt before the good old priest for a blessing.
Last of all he said good-by to his mother. The good woman kissed her son
tenderly and bade him be obedient and faithful in his studies.
For three years the boy lived with his cousin. On Sundays and feast days
he sang in the choir of the church. On week days he worked hard at his
music and other studies.
The week before Easter the choir sang each day at the church. On one day
there was a procession of choir boys chanting hymns. A band played while
the boys sang. The drummer could not march in the procession that day,
and Joseph was asked to take his place. Joseph listened carefully as his
cousin taught him how the drumsticks should be handled.
Having no drum to use, he stretched a cloth over the top of a meal tub
and used that for a drum. On this he practiced until he could beat the
time perfectly. When he had finished he was covered with meal dust, but
he felt sure that he should make no mistake in the procession. And no
mistake did he make.
When Joseph had been with his cousin about a year, a visitor from Vienna
took dinner with the choir master. The two men had finished their meal
and were chatting together. Said the choir master, "But you should hear
my Joseph sing. I brought him from the country and he is now one of my
choir boys. One afternoon in his father's house I heard him singing and
keeping perfect time with two pieces of wood."
"Let me hear the lad," said his friend. Quickly was the boy called from
the kitchen. He came into the room and stood, shy and trembling, before
the two men. When his cousin asked him to sing, Joseph forgot his fear.
Back went the little head, out came the notes, clear and true as the
song of a bird.
When the song was finished, the visitor called Joseph to his side. "Can
you trill for me, my boy?" "No, sir; I have never been taught; but I can
try." Taking the child on his knee, the stranger showed him how to
trill. Then Joseph tried and did well. His new friend was so delighted
with his little pupil that he filled his hands and pockets with bright
red cherries.
Now you must know that the stranger was none other than the chapel
master of a great church in Vienna. He said to Joseph's cousin, "That
boy sang so sweetly and learned to trill so easily that I want him in my
choir." It was soon settled that the boy should go to Vienna. In a short
time he became a member of the choir in St. Stephen's Church in that
city.
The boy was eager to learn all that he could about music. If he heard
the great organ when he was at his games with the other boys, he would
leave them at once. He would tiptoe into the dimly lighted church.
Seating himself in one corner, he would not stir until the last echo of
music had died away.
During all the years that Joseph Haydn was a choir boy in Vienna, he had
very little money to spend. He saved every penny that came into his
hands. When he was thirteen, he bought two books that he might know more
of music. He spent every spare moment in study.
He learned much about music, but was never taught to compose. This did
not prevent him from trying. Joseph knew that he must study harder than
he had ever done.
When Joseph Haydn was about sixteen years old, his voice changed.
Because it became harsh and deep, the chapel master no longer wanted him
in the choir.
One cold winter night he left St. Stephen's Church and wandered through
the streets of Vienna, hungry and without a home. What would have
happened to the poor boy had he not met a friend, we do not know. The
kind friend was a barber, who said, "Our rooms are small and our food is
simple, but you are welcome to both."
The lonely boy gladly accepted the invitation of the barber and went
with him to his humble home. The room in the attic was indeed small and
poorly furnished. The wind and the rain came through the cracks, and the
snow sometimes sifted down upon his bed. Yet he was not altogether
unhappy there.
He soon found work and was able to pay the barber for his room.
Sometimes he played the violin at a ball. He liked that because he was
always given a good warm supper afterward. Again he earned a trifle by
giving music lessons.
Haydn and some other young men often wandered through the streets
playing. They were fond of going out on moonlight nights to serenade
some musician. Haydn often composed the music which the band played.
One night they went to serenade the leader of the opera. They stood
under his window with their violins. Soon the moonlit garden was filled
with the sweetest music.
At a pause in the music a window was flung open and out came a
nightcapped head. Loudly spoke a voice, saying, "Who is playing there?"
"Joseph Haydn."
"Who wrote the music?"
"I did, sir."
The old gentleman came down, saying, "Come with me." He led the way to a
large room where a fine piano stood. He explained to young Haydn that he
wanted him to compose the music for an opera which he had written. Haydn
agreed to do the work, for which he was to receive a hundred and thirty
pieces of money.
After this, Haydn was no longer poor. He rented a better room, but he
never forgot the barber's kindness. Some years later he married the
barber's daughter, Anne.
Haydn was fond of a joke. One time, as he and a friend were walking
together, they passed an inn. The sound of music came from within. "Did
you not write that music, Haydn?" said his friend. "Yes," answered the
composer. "Let us enter and have some fun with the players."
Once inside the inn, Haydn demanded, "Who wrote that music which you are
playing?"
"Joseph Haydn," was the reply.
"Well, it is not fit to be heard," said Haydn.
That made the musicians angry. They became still more angry when they
saw how the two strangers were laughing. The players could not see the
joke, until, as the two friends left the rooms, one of them said, "You
need not mind, for I am Joseph Haydn, myself."