Books: Haydn

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The Haydn Museum

Haydn's life in Vienna during the eighteen months which
intervened between the two London visits was almost totally
devoid of incident. His wife, it will be remembered, had written
to him in England, asking for money to buy a certain house which
she fancied for a "widow's home." Haydn was astute enough not to
send the money, but on his return to Vienna, finding the house in
every way to his liking, he bought it himself. Frau Haydn died
seven years later, "and now," said the composer, speaking in
1806, "I am living in it as a widower." The house is situated in
the suburb of Vienna known as Gumpendorf. It is No. i9 of the
Haydngasse and bears a marble memorial tablet, affixed to it in
1840. The pious care of the composer's admirers has preserved it
almost exactly as it was in Haydn's day, and has turned it into a
kind of museum containing portraits and mementoes of the master,
the original manuscript of "The Creation," and other interesting
relics.

Starts for London Haydn started on his journey to England on
January 19, 1794, Salomon having brought him, under a promise to
return with six new symphonies which be was to conduct in person.
This time he traveled down the Rhine, and he had not been many
days on the way when news reached him of the death of Prince
Anton Esterhazy, who had very reluctantly given him leave of
absence. On the occasion of the first London visit Salomon had
been his traveling companion; now, feeling doubtless the
encumbrance of increasing years, Haydn took his servant and
copyist, Johann Elssler, along with him.

Honest Elssler It map be noted in passing that he entertained a
very warm regard for Elssler, whose father had been music copyist
to Prince Esterhazy. He was born at Eisenstadt in 1769, and,
according to Pohl, lived the whole of his life with Haydn, first
as copyist, and then as general servant and factotum. It was
Elssler who tended the composer in his last years, a service
recompensed by the handsome bequest of 6000 florins, which he
lived to enjoy until 1843. No man, it has been said, is a hero to
his valet, but "Haydn was to Elssler a constant subject of
veneration, which he carried so far that when he thought himself
unobserved he would stop with the censer before his master's
portrait as if it were the altar." This "true and honest servant"
copied a large amount of Haydn's music, partly in score, partly
in separate parts, much of which is now treasured as the
autograph of Haydn, though the handwritings of the two are
essentially different. It is a pity that none of the earlier
writers on Haydn thought of applying to Elssler for particulars
of the private life of the composer. He could have given
information on many obscure points, and could have amplified the
details of this second London visit, about which we know much
less than we know about the former visit.

The Salomon Concerts

Salomon's first concert had been arranged for the 3rd of
February, but Haydn did not arrive until the 4th, and the series
accordingly began upon the 10th. Twelve concerts were given in
all, and with the most brilliant success. The six new symphonies
commissioned by Salomon were performed, and the previous set were
also repeated, along with some new quartets. Of the many
contemporary notices of the period, perhaps the most interesting
is that which appears in the Journal of Luxury and Fashion,
published at Weimar in July 1794. It is in the form of a London
letter, written on March 25, under the heading of "On the Present
State and Fashion of Music in England." After speaking of
Salomon's efforts on behalf of classical music and of the praise
due to him for his performance of the quartets of "our old
favourite, Haydn," the writer continues: "But what would you now
say to his new symphonies composed expressly for these concerts,
and directed by himself at the piano? It is truly wonderful what
sublime and august thoughts this master weaves into his works.
Passages often occur which render it impossible to listen to them
without becoming excited. We are altogether carried away by
admiration, and forced to applaud with hand and mouth. This is
especially the case with Frenchmen, of whom we have so many here
that all public places are filled with them. You know that they
have great sensibility, and cannot restrain their transports, so
that in the midst of the finest passages in soft adagios they
clap their hands in loud applause and thus mar the effect. In
every symphony of Haydn the adagio or andante is sure to be
repeated each time, after the most vehement encores. The worthy
Haydn, whose personal acquaintance I highly value, conducts
himself on these occasions in the most modest manner. He is
indeed a good-hearted, candid, honest man, esteemed and beloved
by all."

A "Smart" Drummer

Several notable incidents occurred at the Salomon Concerts. It
has been remarked, as "an event of some interest in musical
history," that Haydn and Wilhelm Cramer appeared together at one
concert, Cramer as leader of the orchestra, Haydn conducting from
the pianoforte. But Cramer was not a genius of the first rank--
his compositions are of the slightest importance--and there was
nothing singular about his appearing along with Haydn. He had
been leader at the Handel Festivals at Westminster Abbey in 1784
and 1787, and was just the man to be engaged for an enterprise
like that of Salomon's. An anecdote told of Haydn in connection
with one of the rehearsals is better worth noting. The drummer
was found to be absent. "Can anyone here play the drum?" inquired
Haydn, looking round from his seat at the piano. "I can,"
promptly replied young George (afterwards Sir George) Smart, who
was sitting among the violinists. Smart, who lived to become the
doyen of the musical profession in England, had never handled a
drumstick before, and naturally failed to satisfy the conductor.
Haydn took the drumstick from him and "showed to the astonished
orchestra a new and unexpected attitude in their leader." Then,
turning to Smart, he remarked: "That is how we use the drumsticks
in Germany." "Oh, very well," replied the unabashed youth, "if
you like it better in that way we can also do it so in London."

New Acquaintances

Haydn made several new acquaintances during this visit, the most
notable being, perhaps, Dragonetti, the famous double-bass
player, who had accompanied Banti, the eminent prima donna, to
London in 1794. Banti had been discovered as a chanteuse in a
Paris cafe, and afterwards attracted much notice by her fine
voice both in Paris and London. "She is the first singer in
Italy, and drinks a bottle of wine every day," said one who knew
her. In her journeys through Germany, Austria and Italy she won
many triumphs. Haydn composed for her an air, "Non Partir," in E,
which she sang at his benefit. As for "Old Drag," the familiar
designation of the distinguished bassist, his eccentricities must
have provided Haydn with no little amusement. He always took his
dog Carlo with him into the orchestra, and Henry Phillips tells
us that, having a strange weakness for dolls, he often carried
one of them to the festivals as his wife! On his way to Italy in
1798 Dragonetti visited Haydn in Vienna, and was much delighted
with the score of "The Creation," just completed. Several eminent
violinists were in London at the time of Haydn's visit. The most
distinguished of them was perhaps Felice de Giardini, who, at the
age of fourscore, produced an oratorio at Ranelagh Gardens, and
even played a concerto. He had a perfectly volcanic temper, and
hated Haydn as the devil is said to hate holy water. "I don't
wish to see the German dog," he remarked in the composer's
hearing, when urged to pay him a visit. Haydn, as a rule, was
kindly disposed to all brother artists, but to be called a dog
was too much, He went to hear Giardini, and then got even with
him by noting in his diary that he "played like a pig."

Haydn at Bath

The accounts preserved of Haydn's second visit to England are, as
already remarked, far less full than those of the first visit.
Unconnected memoranda appear in his diary, some of which are
given by Griesinger and Dies; but they are of comparatively
little interest. During the summer of 1794 he moved about the
country a good deal. Thus, about the 26th of August, he paid a
visit to Waverley Abbey, whose "Annales Waverliensis" suggested
to Scott the name of his first romance. The ruined condition of
the venerable pile--it dates from 1128--set Haydn moralizing on
the "Protestant heresy" which led the "rascal mob" to tear down
"what had once been a stronghold of his own religion." In the
following month he spent three days in Bath with Dr. Burney, and
Rauzzini, the famous tenor, who had retired to the fashionable
watering-place after a successful career of thirteen years as a
singer and teacher in London. Rauzzini is little more than a name
now, but for Haydn's sake it is worth recalling his memory. Born
at Rome in 1747, his striking beauty of face and figure had drawn
him into certain entanglements which made it expedient for him to
leave his native land. He was as fond of animals as Dragonetti
was of dolls, and had erected a memorial tablet in his garden to
his "best friend," otherwise his dog. "Turk was a faithful dog
and not a man," ran the inscription, which reminds one of
Schopenhauer's cynical observation that if it were not for the
honest faces of dogs, we should forget the very existence of
sincerity. When Haydn read the inscription he immediately
proceeded to make use of the words for a four-part canon. It was
presumably at this time that he became acquainted with Dr. Henry
Harington, the musician and author, who had removed to Bath in
1771, where he had founded the Harmonic Society. Haydn dedicated
one of his songs to him in return for certain music and verses,
which explains the following otherwise cryptic note of
Clementi's, published for the first time recently by Mr. J. S.
Shedlock: "The first Dr. [Harington] having bestowed much praise
on the second Dr. [Haydn], the said second Dr, out of doctorial
gratitude, returns the 1st Dr. thanks for all favours recd., and
praises in his turn the said lst Dr. most handsomely." The title
of Haydn's song was "Dr. Harington's Compliments."

Opera Concerts

The composer returned to London at the beginning of October for
the winter season's concerts. These began, as before, in
February, and were continued once a week up to the month of May.
This time they took the form of opera concerts, and were given at
the "National School of Music" in the new concert room of the
King's Theatre. No fresh symphonies were contributed by Haydn for
this series, though

some of the old ones always found a place in the programmes. Two
extra concerts were given on May 21 and June 1, at both of which
Haydn appeared; but the composer's last benefit concert was held
on May 4. On this occasion the programme was entirely confined to
his own compositions, with the exception of concertos by Viotti,
the violinist, and Ferlendis, the oboist. Banti sang the aria
already mentioned as having been written expressly for her, but,
according to the composer, "sang very scanty." The main thing,
however, was that the concert proved a financial success, the net
receipts amounting to £400. "It is only in England," said Haydn,
"that one can make 4000 gulden in one evening."

Haydn did indeed remarkably well in London. As Pohl says, "he
returned from it with increased powers, unlimited fame, and a
competence for life. By concerts, lessons, and symphonies, not
counting his other compositions, he had again made £1200, enough
to relieve him from all anxiety as to the future. He often said
afterwards that it was not till he had been to England that he
became famous in Germany; by which he meant that although his
reputation was high at home, the English were the first to give
him public homage and liberal remuneration."

Kingly Courtesies

It is superfluous to say that Haydn was as much of a "lion" in
London society during his second visit as he had been on the
previous occasion. The attention bestowed on him in royal circles
made that certain, for "society" are sheep, and royalty is their
bell-wether. The Prince of Wales had rather a fancy for him, and
commanded his attendance at Carlton House no fewer than twenty-
six times. At one concert at York House the programme was
entirely devoted to his music. George III and Queen Caroline were
present, and Haydn was presented to the King by the Prince. "You
have written a great deal, Dr. Haydn," said the King. "Yes, sire,"
was the reply; "more than is good for me." "Certainly not,"
rejoined His Majesty. He was then presented to the Queen, and
asked to sing some German songs. "My voice," he said, pointing to
the tip of his little finger, "is now no bigger than that"; but
he sat down to the pianoforte and sang his song, "Ich bin der
Verliebteste." He was repeatedly invited by the Queen to
Buckingham Palace, and she tried to persuade him to settle in
England. "You shall have a house at Windsor during the summer
months," she said, and then, looking towards the King, added, "We
can sometimes make music tete-a-tete." "Oh! I am not jealous of
Haydn," interposed the King; "he is a good, honourable German."
"To preserve that reputation," replied Haydn, "is my greatest
pride."

Most of Haydn's appearances were made at the concerts regularly
organized for the entertainment of royalty at Carlton House and
Buckingham Palace, and Haydn looked to be paid for his services.
Whether the King and the Prince expected him to give these
services in return for the supposed honour they had conferred
upon him does not appear. At all events, Haydn sent in a bill for
100 guineas sometime after his return to Vienna, and the amount
was promptly paid by Parliament.

A Valuable Parrot

Among the other attentions bestowed upon him while in London,
mention should be made of the present of a talking parrot. Haydn
took the bird with him, and it was sold for 140 pounds after his
death. Another gift followed him to Vienna. A Leicester
manufacturer named Gardiner--he wrote a book on The Music of
Nature, and other works--sent him half a dozen pairs of cotton
stockings, into which were woven the notes of the Austrian Hymn,
"My mother bids me bind my hair," the Andante from the "Surprise"
Symphony, and other thematic material. These musical stockings,
as a wit has observed, must have come as a real surprise to
Haydn. It was this same Leicester manufacturer, we may remark
parenthetically, who annotated the translation of Bombet's Life
of Haydn, made by his fellow-townsman, Robert Brewin, in 1817,

Haydn's return from London was hastened by the receipt of a
communication from Esterhaz. Prince Anton had been succeeded by
his son Nicolaus, who was as fond of music as the rest of his
family, and desired to keep his musical establishment up to the
old standard. During the summer of 1794 he had written to Haydn,
asking if the composer would care to retain his appointment as
director. Haydn was only too glad to assent; and now that his
London engagements were fulfilled, he saw no reason for remaining
longer in England. Accordingly he started for home on the l5th of
August 1795, traveling by way of Hamburg, Berlin and Dresden, and
arriving at Vienna in the early days of September.

Rohrau Reminiscences

Soon after his return he was surprised to receive an invitation
to visit his native Rohrau. When he arrived there he found that a
monument, with a marble bust of himself, had been erected to his
honour in a park near his birthplace. This interesting memorial
consists of a square pillar surmounting three stone steps, with
an inscription on each side. The visit was productive of mingled
feelings to Haydn. He took his friends to see the old thatch-
roofed cottage, and, pointing to the familiar stove, still in its
place, modestly remarked that there his career as a musician
began--a reminiscence of the now far-away time when he sat by his
father's side and sawed away on his improvised fiddle.

Esterhaz once more

There is little to say about Haydn's labours as Capellmeister of
the Esterhazy household at this time. Apparently he was only at
Eisenstadt for the summer and autumn. Down to 1802, however, he
always had a mass ready for Princess Esterhazy's name-day in
September. These compositions are Nos. 2, 1, 3, 16, 4 and 6 of
the Novello edition. No. 2, Pohl tells us, was composed in 1796,
and called the "Paukenmesse," from the fact of the drums being
used in the Agnus. No. 3 was written in 1797. It is known in
England as the Imperial Mass, but in Germany as "Die
Nelsonmesse," on account of its having been performed during
Nelson's visit to Eisenstadt in l800. On that occasion Nelson
asked Haydn for his pen, and gave him his own gold watch in
exchange.

The Austrian Hymn

It was shortly after his return to Vienna--in January 1797, to be
precise--that he composed his favourite air, "God preserve the
Emperor," better known as the Austrian Hymn. The story of this
celebrated composition is worth telling with some minuteness. Its
inception was due to Count von Saurau, Imperial High Chancellor
and Minister of the Interior. Writing in 1820, the count said:

I often regretted that we had not, like the English, a national
air calculated to display to all the world the loyal devotion of
our people to the kind and upright ruler of our Fatherland, and
to awaken within the hearts of all good Austrians that noble
national pride so indispensable to the energetic fulfillment of
all the beneficial measures of the sovereign. This seemed to me
more urgent at a period when the French Revolution was raging
most furiously, and when the Jacobins cherished the idle hope of
finding among the worthy Viennese partisans and participators in
their criminal designs [The scandalous Jacobin persecutions and
executions in Austria and Hungary took place in 1796]. I caused
that meritorious poet Haschka to write the words, and applied to
our immortal countryman Haydn to set them to music, for I
considered him alone capable of writing anything approaching in
merit to the English "God save the King." Such was the origin of
our national hymn.

It would not have been difficult to match "God save the King,"
the mediocrity of which, especially as regards the words, has
been the butt of countless satirists. Beethoven wrote in his
diary that he "must show the English what a blessing they have"
in that "national disgrace." If Haydn regarded it as a
"blessing," he certainly did not take it as a model. He produced
an air which, looking at it from a purely artistic point of view,
is the best thing of the national anthem kind that has ever been
written. The Emperor was enchanted with it when sung on his
birthday, February 12, 1797, at the National Theatre in Vienna,
and through Count Saurau sent the composer a gold box adorned
with a facsimile of the royal features. "Such a surprise and such
a mark of favour, especially as regards the portrait of my
beloved monarch," wrote Haydn, "I never before received in
acknowledgment of my poor talents."

Haydn's Love for It

We have several indications of Haydn's predilection for this fine
air, which has long been popular as a hymn tune in all the
churches. He wrote a set of variations for it as the Andante of
his "Kaiser Quartet." Griesinger tells us, too, that as often as
the warm weather and his strength permitted, during the last few
years of his life, he used to be led into his back room that he
might play it on the piano. It is further related by Dies that,
during the bombardment of Vienna in May 1809, Haydn seated
himself at his instrument every forenoon to give forth the sound
of the favourite song. Indeed, on May 26, only five days before
his death, he played it over three times in succession, and "with
a degree of expression that astonished himself." As one writer
puts it, the air "seemed to have acquired a certain sacredness in
his eyes in an age when kings were beheaded and their crowns
tossed to the rabble."

Haydn's first sketch of the melody was found among his papers
after his death. We reproduce it here, with an improvement shown
in small notes. There are, it will be observed, some slight
differences between the draft and the published version of the
air:

[figure: a musical score excerpt from the draft]

[figure: a musical score excerpt from the published version]

The collecting of what Tennyson called "the chips of the
workshop" is not as a rule an edifying business, but the
evolution of a great national air must always be interesting.

Plagiarism or Coincidence?

It might perhaps be added that Dr. Kuhac, the highest authority on
Croatian folk-song, asserted in an article contributed to the
Croatian Review (1893) that the Austrian National Hymn was based
on a Croatian popular air. In reviewing Kuhac's collection of
Croatian melodies, a work in four volumes, containing 1600
examples, Dr. Reimann signifies his agreement with Kuhac, and adds
that Haydn employed Croatian themes not only in "God preserve the
Emperor," but in many passages of his other works. These
statements must not be taken too seriously. Handel purloined
wholesale from brother composers and said nothing about it. The
artistic morality of Haydn's age was different, and, knowing his
character as we do, we may be perfectly sure that if he had of
set purpose introduced into any of his compositions music which
was not his own he would, in some way or other, have acknowledged
the debt. This hunting for plagiarisms which are not plagiarisms
at all but mere coincidences--coincidences which are and must be
inevitable--is fast becoming a nuisance, and it is the duty of
every serious writer to discredit the practice. The composer of
"The Creation" had no need to borrow his melodies from any
source.

CHAPTER VII

"THE CREATION" AND "THE SEASONS"

Haydn's Crowning Achievement--"The Creation" suggested--The
"Unintelligible Jargon" of the Libretto--The Stimulating Effect
of London--Haydn's Self-Criticism--First Performance of "The
Creation"--London Performances--French Enthusiasm--The Oratorio
criticized--"The Seasons."

Haydn's Crowning Achievement

Haydn rounded his life with "The Creation" and "The Seasons."
They were the summit of his achievement, as little to be expected
from him, considering his years, as "Falstaff" was to be expected
from the octogenarian Verdi. Some geniuses flower late. It was
only now, by his London symphonies and his "Creation," that
Haydn's genius blossomed so luxuriantly as to place him with
almost amazing suddenness among the very first of composers.
There is hardly anything more certain than this, that if he had
not come to London he would not have stood where he stands today.
The best of his symphonies were written for London; and it was
London, in effect, that set him to work in what was for him
practically a new direction, leading to the production of an
oratorio which at once took its place by the side of Handel's
master-pieces, and rose to a popularity second only to that of
"The Messiah" itself.

The Creation

The connection thus established between the names of Handel and
Haydn is interesting, for there can be little question that Haydn
was led to think of writing a large choral work chiefly as the
result of frequently hearing Handel's oratorios during his visits
to the metropolis. The credit of suggesting "The Creation" to
Haydn is indeed assigned to Salomon, but it is more than probable
that the matter had already been occupying his thoughts. It has
been explicitly stated [Footnote: See note by C.H. Purday in
Leisure Hour for 1880, p. 528.] that, being greatly impressed
with the effect produced by "The Messiah," Haydn intimated to his
friend Barthelemon his desire to compose a work of the same kind.
He asked Barthelemon what subject he would advise for such a
purpose, and Barthelemon, pointing to a copy of the Bible,
replied: "There! take that, and begin at the beginning." This
story is told on apparently good authority. But it hardly fits in
with the statements of biographers. According to the biographers,
Salomon handed the composer a libretto originally selected for
Handel from Genesis and Paradise Lost by Mr. Lidley or Liddell.
That this was the libretto used by Haydn is certain, and we may
therefore accept it as a fact that Haydn's most notable
achievement in choral music was due in great measure to the man
who had brought him to London, and had drawn from him the finest
of his instrumental works.

The Creation" Libretto

Before proceeding further we may deal finally with the libretto
of "The Creation." The "unintelligible jargon" which disfigures
Haydn's immortal work has often formed the subject of comment;
and assuredly nothing that can be said of it can well be too
severe. "The Creation" libretto stands to the present day as an
example of all that is jejune and incongruous in words for music.
The theme has in itself so many elements of inspiration that it
is a matter for wonder how, for more than a century, English-
speaking audiences have listened to the arrant nonsense with
which Haydn's music is associated. As has been well observed,
"the suburban love-making of our first parents, and the lengthy
references to the habits of the worm and the leviathan are almost
more than modern flesh and blood can endure." Many years ago a
leading musical critic wrote that there ought to be enough value,
monetarily speaking, in "The Creation" to make it worth while
preparing a fresh libretto; for, said he, "the present one seems
only fit for the nursery, to use in connection with Noah's ark."
At the Norwich Festival performance of the oratorio in 1872, the
words were, in fact, altered, but in all the published editions
of the work the text remains as it was. It is usual to credit the
composer's friend, Baron van Swieten, with the "unintelligible
jargon." The baron certainly had a considerable hand in the
adaptation of the text. But in reality it owes its very uncouth
verbiage largely to the circumstance that it was first translated
from English into German, and then re-translated back into
English; the words, with the exception of the first chorus, being
adapted to the music. Considering the ways of translators, the
best libretto in the world could not but have suffered under such
transformations, and it is doing a real injustice to the memory
of Baron Swieten, the good friend of more than one composer, to
hold him up needlessly to ridicule. [Footnote: In one of George
Thomson's letters to Mrs. Hunter we read: "It The Stimulus of
London

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