1790-1795
All his magnificence over, Prince Nicolaus was left to sleep tranquilly
in his tomb regardless of the mocking funereal magnificence around him;
Prince Anton succeeded him, and dismissed the band, and pensioned Haydn;
and Haydn, at the age of fifty-eight, was free. Salomon's horses must
have been made to sweat on that rush back from Cologne to Vienna, and he
was rewarded for his own enterprise and their toils. He captured Haydn
easily. Haydn, in fact, having done his day's work manfully, seemed
determined to have a jolly fling in the evening of his life, and, we may
note, he determined to have it at a profit. In the event his little
fling turned out to be, so far as externals went, quite the most
exhilarating part of his life; until now all might seem to have been
mere prelude and preparation. At Eisenstadt, Esterház and Vienna he had
received compliments and presents, and had been regarded as more or less
of a great little man. But in those days he had also been a servant,
compelled when on duty to wear a uniform--he never wore it at other
times, which shows how much be liked it--and to be for ever at the beck
and call of his princely master. Now Jack--or, rather, Joseph--was to be
his own master and the master of others, and to have half an aristocracy
at his beck and call; he was to conquer the heart of yet another woman
in addition to an already long list, the "pretty widow"--but I will not
anticipate the story. He had no longer to write mainly for the ears of a
Prince Nicolaus, but for those of a backward musical public accustomed
to a very different sort of music, Handel's. One is tempted to speculate
as to what might have happened had he been sooner set free. There is
nothing whatever to show that Nicolaus was ever in a hurry to urge him
on to fresh experiments, and in the absence of any evidence it is merely
fair to assume that such a prince in such a court, if he was not,
indeed, everlastingly crying out for "something more like you used to
give us," was at any rate well enough content with the older stuff, and
that in his tastes he lumbered far behind in Haydn's daring steps. In
London Haydn had now every opportunity, even every incentive, to strive,
regardless of consequences, after his own ideal; and what the fruits
were we shall see.
Terms were arranged; Haydn was to compose six symphonies and to
"conduct" (at the pianoforte) six concerts. For this he was to receive
a certain sum, and the proceeds of a benefit concert. A farewell was
said to Prince Anton and many friends, and what proved to be a long,
long farewell to Mozart, and on December 15, 1790, he and Salomon set
out. They travelled to Munich first, then on through Bonn and Brussels
to Calais; they crossed the Channel in safety, and arrived in London on
the first day of the year 1791. There he first of all stayed with Bland
(who had supplied the razor and bagged the quartet four years before) at
45, High Holborn. Then he went to live with Salomon at 18, Great
Pulteney Street. Later on, he went to live in the country, at Lisson
Grove, which is now not even a suburb, and he also paid visits to
various country seats.
He was now nearly sixty; his mental powers were at their fullest vigour,
his physical health was excellent, and he was on a holiday. Because it
is about Haydn, the story of this and his subsequent visit to England
makes delightful reading. If in his long solitude he had drawn all he
could out of himself, now he was to receive impressions and impulses
from the active and social world that had great results. He was lionized
and petted, and enabled easily to make plenty of money; and he remained
the simple, shrewd, unspoiled, industrious Haydn he had been all along.
He met all the distinguished people of the time, and was taken to see
and hear everything. Of course, Dr. Burney was much about. The whole
visit has been written about a hundred times. I must touch quickly on
the significant incidents. On March 11 the first of Salomon's concerts
was given in the Hanover Rooms, and the audience was large, fashionable
and enthusiastic. The band, with Salomon, first violin, leading, was
constituted thus: sixteen violins, four violas, eight 'cellos, four
basses, flutes, oboes, bassoons, trumpets, and drums--forty-one all
told. It was this orchestra Haydn wrote his twelve best symphonies for.
He himself directed at the pianoforte, and contemporaries were not
wanting to say that at times the effect was somewhat disagreeable. The
first "Salomon set" of symphonies were those in C, D, G (_The Surprise_
or _Paukenschlag_), the B flat, C minor, and D. All these save the first
are dated 1791.
The press, such as it was--one wonders who wrote the critiques of those
days--was as enthusiastic as the audiences, so every one was pleased.
One of his principal admirers was the "pretty widow." The incident was
charmingly related by the late Mrs. Craigie in "The Artist's Life"
(Werner Laurie). The lady was a Mrs. Schroeter, a wealthy widow, who
lived in James Street, Buckingham Gate. Haydn gave her lessons, and
appears to have visited her every day; the pair corresponded, and on his
second trip to England he took lodgings in Bury Street, apparently to be
near her. She was turned sixty, but Haydn described her in after-years
as strikingly handsome. Whether she was or not, she evidently conquered
his hot Hungarian heart, for he said that had he been free he certainly
would have married her. What happened before his final return to Vienna
is not known; afterwards there seem to have been no more letters, and
only a chance remark shows that he preserved a tender memory of her.
Thank goodness, they could not marry, so the romance is unspotted.
But Haydn had plenty of matters beside love-making to attend to. One
Gallini got a licence to give entertainments in the King's theatre, and
Haydn was engaged to compose, and did compose, for them. He had also
been paid for an opera, _Orfeo_, and tried to finish it at Lisson Grove,
but nothing ever came of it as the enterprise collapsed. His first
benefit concert brought him £350; at the second, given on May 30, in the
Hanover Square Rooms, he gave the _Seven Words_ in its original form as
a "Passione Instrumentale." Then he turned to a little holiday-making.
He had multitudes of friends--almost chief amongst them being Cramer the
younger--and multitudes of invitations. In July he went to Oxford, and
was given an honorary degree; he directed three orchestral concerts
there--imagine it!--from the organ. One of the symphonies played there
became known as _The Oxford_, though it had been written long before.
Prince Anton had invited him to return, but as Haydn had entered into a
second contract with Salomon he contrived somehow to prolong his stay in
England. The Prince of Wales had just got married, and invited Haydn to
stay with him a few days--presumably to cheer him during the honeymoon.
So they made music together; Haydn even obliged his hostess by singing
with a voice which is said to have been like a crow's. Hoppner painted
the portrait which is now in Hampton Court; it was engraved by Facius in
1807. Later, Haydn went to Cambridge; then came his second series of
triumphs.
Even people who were supposed to be highly civilized showed at that
epoch a considerable degree of their ancestors' love of fighting, both
in London and in continental cities. Duels at the organ or piano, or on
the violin, were commonly arranged between rival virtuosi, and
art-matters were settled by votes, or by the stronger lungs or arms.
Haydn was not to be left in peace. The professional musicians gave some
concerts in opposition to Salomon's, and they imported Haydn's own
pupil, Pleyel, as their champion. But Pleyel, though noted in his day as
a teacher of the violin, and still remembered as the author of
elementary violin duets useful to beginners, was a gentle, kindly soul,
perfectly aware of Haydn's strength and his own weakness. Fight there
was none, for Haydn simply paid no attention: but it is good to know
that the two men remained friends. I do not remember that after this
another attempt was made to turn the concert-hall into a cockpit.
During this second season many of Haydn's works of all descriptions were
produced, and the concerts were as successful as those of the preceding
year. An event, which might have been far-reaching in its effects had it
happened earlier in his life, was his attendance at the Handel
Commemoration in Westminster Abbey. He must have known some of Handel's
oratorios, for Mozart had rescored them for van Swieten's concerts in
Vienna; now he heard for the first time how the giant could indeed smite
like a thunderbolt when he chose. However, during his next stay in
London he had fuller opportunities of listening to Handel, and we will
leave the matter until a few pages later. He attended about this time a
service of charity children in St. Paul's Cathedral, and was strangely
moved by a ridiculous old chant of Peter Jones, the effect being due, of
course, to the fresh children's voices. He remarked on it in his diary,
and wise commentators have pointed out that in writing the chant down he
"beautified" it with passing notes. Of course, all organists of the
period--and until a considerably later period--"beautified" everything
they played in precisely the same fashion, and naturally the children
would follow the organ. There remain to mention now only his friendship
with Bartolozzi the engraver, and Mrs. Hodges, "the loveliest woman I
ever saw" (ah! that inflammable heart), and the friendship with John
Hunter, the surgeon, and his wife. Mrs. Hunter wrote the words for most
of the twelve English canzonets. Mrs. Hodges composed, and some pieces
by her, copied in Haydn's hand, with a note by him, were found amongst
his papers.
He was now a wealthy man. He returned to Vienna by way of Bonn, where
Beethoven submitted a composition to him. As every one knows, Beethoven
soon followed him to Vienna, and took lessons, and complained that Haydn
took no pains with him. Now, Haydn was no pedant; with him the final
court of appeal was the ear. When the theorists said that the celebrated
false relations at the opening of Mozart's C major quartet were wrong,
Haydn was merely impatient; he said that if Mozart wrote them we might
depend upon it Mozart had an excellent reason for doing so. Probably he
did not want Beethoven to waste his time on piffling schoolboy
exercises. Anyhow, Beethoven always spoke of him with respect, and Haydn
said Beethoven's septet was sublime.
His stay in Vienna was not a long one. He again agreed with Salomon to
compose six new symphonies, and come to London to conduct them. On
January 17, 1794, he set out. Prince Anton was unwilling for him to
leave, and died three days afterwards. In many respects this visit was a
duplicate of the first. The symphonies he wrote were the "Military" in
G, and the D minor, both 1794; the E flat, apparently composed in 1793,
and the B flat, E flat, and D minor and major, all 1795. The last, one
of his finest, with certainly his finest introductory adagio, is
probably the last symphony he wrote. It is not only dated 1795, but has
the composer's note that it is the twelfth he wrote in England. As we
shall see, he directed his attention to another style of music on his
return to Vienna. Meantime, in London he was incessantly occupied, was
honoured by royalty and them that were great in the land, he amassed
money, and he saw much of his beloved Mrs. Schroeter. The King and Queen
asked him to spend the summer at Windsor, and to settle in England.
Haydn's reply was that he could not leave his prince. Prince Anton was
dead, but a new Nicolaus reigned in his stead, and Haydn obviously
regarded himself as a kind of family servant whose services pass to the
next heir. It was during this visit that he heard so much of Handel. We
must remember that at this time Handel was the musical god of England.
George III. could barely stand any other music, and the public were
almost, though not quite, of their royal master's way of thinking. Haydn
they admired vastly; but it was found advisable to mix up a good deal of
Handel's music with his on the programmes of the concerts at the King's
theatre. There were also Handel performances at Covent Garden. Such
effects as that of the throbbing mass of vocal tone in the chorus from
_Joshua_, "The people shall tremble," must have overwhelmed him, and the
swift directness and colossal climaxes of the "Hallelujah" from the
_Messiah_ certainly impressed him. However great the revelation of
Handel's supreme might, Haydn never imitated Handel's style or devices
for getting huge effects; the artistic treatment he received in London,
as well as the social treatment, the flattery and petting, left him
Haydn. That he learned much from Handel cannot be doubted, and it must
have been Handel's music that suggested to him the idea of composing
_The Creation_ and so much church music; but Haydn the artist remained
unchanged, like Haydn the man; he learnt and he profited, but he went on
doing things in his own way. Handel was one of the three most potent
influences who made him. The first was Emanuel Bach, who fertilized his
mind, sowed ideas; the second was Mozart, who shaped, coloured and
directed his thoughts; the last, Handel, turned his attention to
oratorio, sacred music and choral writing. Handel modified Haydn less
than the others; Haydn was then getting on towards old age; he was also
by force of sheer instinct above all things a writer for the orchestra;
and Handel's art, derived in the first place from Purcell's, had become
a purely personal one which no one since has copied with the slightest
success. Still it must have been good for Haydn to hear such a rolling
river of tone as the "Amen" of _The Messiah_, the springtide joyfulness
and jubilation of "And the glory of the Lord," the white heat of "And He
shall purify," and "For unto us a Child is born," with its recurring
climaxes of ever-increasing intensity. He frankly imitated none of these
things, but they must, consciously or unconsciously, have heightened the
nobility of the great choral fugues that relieve the triviality of so
much of his church music.
After what we should call the concert season was over, Haydn again went
off on a round of visits. Amongst others, there was one to Bath with Dr.
Burney. When music in London came to life again, both Haydn and Salomon
were much in evidence, but the Salomon concerts were now given under a
more grandiloquent title, following the fashion of the time. They became
the National School of Music, and were given in the King's concert-room
which had recently been added to the King's theatre. Haydn was, as
before, composer and conductor, and one or two of his symphonies figured
in every programme. His last benefit brought him £400. It took place on
May 4, and on June 1 he appeared before an English audience for the last
time. Prince Nicolaus had sent urgently for him, as he desired to have
his household and chapel music set in order. Haydn, of course, had never
left the Esterhazy service. He continued to draw the emoluments of
office, and thought it his duty to obey his Prince's wishes. He never
again drudged as he had done in the old days, but he was always within
call of his master. But those were leisurely days, and it took Haydn two
and a half months to wind up his various affairs and say good-bye to his
friends. On August 15 he set off. He must have carried away pleasant
recollections. He had come to England with Salomon the first time, at
the end of 1790, to have a fling, and by the time the second trip was
over he must have felt that he had had one. It was assuredly a fling
such as few composers have had after a long, industrious and honourable
life's work. Not that his career was by any means finished. He had
nearly fourteen years of life before him, many of them active years. He
had made a fortune--"It is only in England," said he, "that such sums
can be earned by artists"; and now, when he returned to his native land,
he found his countrymen ready to treat him with all the respect, not to
say reverence and hero-worship, he had received in England.
One delightful little incident must be related before closing this
chapter, partly because of the prettiness of it, partly to show the
position he had now won in Austria. Soon after his return to Vienna, a
Count Herrach and some other friends took him to Rohrau, and showed him
there, on the banks of the Leitha, a monument with a bust of him. They
visited his birthplace, and Haydn went down on his knees and kissed the
threshold. Then he showed his companions the stove where, as a baby, he
had sat and pretended to play the violin. "There," he said, "is where my
musical career began." He had had many triumphs, and more were to come,
but none can have been more pleasant to him than this.