THE LIFE OF HAYDN.CHAPTER I.1732-1753.HIS YOUTH AND EARLY STUDIES.
THE LIFE OF HAYDN.
1732-1753.
HIS YOUTH AND EARLY STUDIES.
Haydn’s Birth and Family—His Early Talent—First Studies with Frankh—Chapel-boy at St. Stephen’s—Reutter’s Instructions—Early Compositions—His Mischievous Tricks and Dismissal—Anecdote of Maria Theresa—Acquaintance with Metastasio—Influence of Philip Emanuel Bach—The Origin of his First Opera, “The Devil on Two Sticks.”
Haydn’s Birth and Family—His Early Talent—First Studies with Frankh—Chapel-boy at St. Stephen’s—Reutter’s Instructions—Early Compositions—His Mischievous Tricks and Dismissal—Anecdote of Maria Theresa—Acquaintance with Metastasio—Influence of Philip Emanuel Bach—The Origin of his First Opera, “The Devil on Two Sticks.”
Haydn’s Birth and Family—His Early Talent—First Studies with Frankh—Chapel-boy at St. Stephen’s—Reutter’s Instructions—Early Compositions—His Mischievous Tricks and Dismissal—Anecdote of Maria Theresa—Acquaintance with Metastasio—Influence of Philip Emanuel Bach—The Origin of his First Opera, “The Devil on Two Sticks.”
“See, my dear Hummel, the house in which Haydn was born; to think that so great a man should have first seen the light in a peasant’s wretched cottage.” Such were the words of Beethoven, upon his death-bed in 1827, as he spoke of the father of the symphony and quartet, both of which he himself brought to their highest perfection.
Joseph Haydn was born March 31, 1732, at the market-town of Rohrau, near Bruck, on the river Leitha, which at that point separatesLower Austria from Hungary. The little place belonged to the Counts Harrach, who erected a memorial to his honor in their park upon his return from his London triumphs in 1795.
Haydn’s father was a wheelwright, and the craft had long been followed by the family. He had traveled as a master-workman, and in his wanderings had been, it is said, as far as Frankfort-on-Main. His marriage was blessed with twelve children, six of whom died very young. They were brought up religiously in the Catholic faith, and as they were poor, they were also accustomed to economy and industry. In his old age, Haydn said: “My parents were so strict in their lessons of neatness and order, even in my earliest youth, that at last these habits became a second nature.” His mother watched over him most tenderly, but his father alone lived to enjoy the recompense of such care, when his son was installed as Capellmeister. The manner in which he remembered his mother’s grave many years later in his will reveals the strength of her influence.
His father, who was “by nature a great lover of music,” had a fair tenor voice, and duringhis travels accompanied himself on the harp without knowing a note. After the day’s toil, the family sang together, and even when an old man, Haydn recalled with much emotion these musical pleasures of his boyhood. The little “Sepperl,” as he was called, astonished them all with the correctness of his ear and the sweetness of his voice, and always sang his short simple pieces to his father in a correct manner. More than this, he closely imitated the handling of a violin-bow with a little stick, and upon one such occasion a relative, from the neighborhood, observed the remarkable feeling for strict tone and time, in the five-year-old boy. This relative, who was the schoolmaster and choir-leader in the neighboring town of Hainburg, took the lad, who was intended for the priesthood, to that place, that he might study the art which it was thought would undoubtedly open a way to the accomplishment of this purpose. After this, Haydn only returned home as a visitor, but that he remembered it and his poor relatives all his life with esteem and affection, is evidenced by this remark in his old age: “I live not so much for myself as for my poor relativesto whom I would leave something after my death.” His “Biographical Notices” say he was so little ashamed of his humble origin that he often spoke of it himself. In his will, he remembers the parish priest and schoolteacher as well as the poor children of his humble birth-place. In 1795, when he revisited it, upon the occasion of the dedication of the Harrach memorial, before alluded to, he knelt down in the familiar old sitting-room, kissed its threshold, and pointed out the settle where he had once displayed in sport that childish musical skill which was the indication of his subsequent grand artistic career. “The young may learn from my example that something may come out of nothing; what I am is entirely the result of the most pressing necessity,” he once said, as he recalled his humble antecedents.
In Hainburg, Haydn learned the musical rudiments and studied other branches necessary to youth, with his cousin Matthias Frankh. In an autobiographical sketch, about the year 1776, which may be found in the “Musikerbriefe” (Leipsic, 1873, second edition), he says: “Almighty God, to whom I give thanksfor all His unnumbered mercies, bestowed upon me such musical facility that even in my sixth year I sang with confidence several masses in the church choir, and could play a little on the piano and violin.” Besides this, he learned there the nature of all the ordinary instruments, and could play upon most of them. “I thank this man, even in his grave, for making me work so hard, though I used to get more blows than food,” runs one of his later humorous confessions. Unfortunately, the latter complaint corresponded to the rest of his treatment in his cousin’s house. “I could not help observing, much to my distress, that I was getting very dirty, and though I was quite vain of my person, I could not always prevent the spots upon my clothes from showing, of which I was greatly ashamed—in fact, I was a little urchin,” he says at another time. Even at that time he wore a wig, “for the sake of cleanliness,” without which it is almost impossible to imagine “Papa Haydn.”
Of the style of musical instruction in Hainburg, we have at least one example. It was in Passion week, a time of numerous processions. Frankh was in great trouble, owing tothe death of his kettle-drummer, but espying little “Sepperl,” he bethought himself that he could quickly learn. He showed him how to play and then left him. The lad took a basket, such as the peasants use for holding flour in their baking, covered it over with a cloth, placed it upon a finely upholstered chair, and drummed away with so much spirit that he did not observe the flour had sifted out and ruined the chair. He was reprimanded, as usual, but his teacher’s wrath was appeased when he noticed how quickly Joseph had become a skillful drummer. As he was at that time very short in stature, he could not reach up to the man who had been accustomed to carry the drum, which necessitated the employment of a smaller man, and, as unfortunately he was a hunchback, it excited much laughter in the procession. But Haydn in this manner gained a thoroughly practical knowledge of the instrument and, as is well known, the drum-parts in his symphonies are of special importance. He was the first to give to this instrument a thorough individuality and a separate artistic purpose in instrumental music. He was very proud of his skill, and, as we shall seefarther on, his ideas were of great assistance to a kettle-drummer in London.
This first practical result convinced his teacher that Haydn was destined for a musical career. His systematic industry was universally praised, and his agreeable voice was his best personal recommendation. The result was, that after two years of study he went to Vienna, under happy, we may even say the happiest, of auspices.
The Hainburg pastor was a warm friend of Hofcapellmeister Reutter. It happened that the latter, journeying from Vienna on business, passed through Hainburg and made the pastor a short visit. During his stay he mentioned the purpose of his journey, namely, the engagement of boys with sufficient talent as well as good voices for choir service. The pastor at once thought of Joseph. Reutter desired to see this clever lad. He made his appearance. Reutter said to him: “Can you trill, my little man?” Joseph, thinking perhaps that he ought not to know more than people above him, replied to the question: “My teacher even can not do that.” “Look here,” said Reutter, “I will trill for you. Pay attention and seehow I do it.” He had scarcely finished, when Haydn stood before him with the utmost confidence and after two attempts trilled so perfectly that Reutter in astonishment cried out, “bravo,” drew out of his pocket a seventeen-kreuzer piece, and presented it to the little virtuoso. This incident is related by Dies, the painter, who was intimate with Haydn from 1805 until his death, and who published in 1810 the very interesting “Biographical Notices” of him.
The little fellow meanwhile devoted himself to vocal practice until his eighth year, when he was to enter the chapel, for the Hofcapellmeister had made this stipulation when he promised the father to advance his son. As he could find no teacher who was versed in the rules, he studied by himself, and following the natural method, learned to sing the scales and made such rapid progress that when he went to Vienna, Reutter was astonished at his facility.
The chapel was that of St. Stephen. In addition to frequent religious services, the boys were also obliged to work at various kinds of outside labor, so that their musical improvement was considerably hindered. In spite ofthis, Haydn says that besides his vocal practice, he studied the piano and violin with very good masters, and received much praise for his singing, both at church and court. The general course of studies included only the scantiest instruction in religion, writing, ciphering and Latin; and art, the most important of all to him, was so much worse off that at last he became his own teacher again. Reutter troubled himself very little about his chapel-scholars, and was a very imperious master besides; “and yet,” said Haydn afterward, “I was not a complete master of any instrument, but I knew the quality and action of all. I was no mean pianist and singer, and could play violin concertos.” Singing chiefly occupied his time and strength, for he contended that a German instrumental composer must first master vocal study in order to write melodies. He considered this all his life as of the greatest importance and often complained because so few composers understood it. Among all the results of his youthful artistic training, secured in his ten years’ chapel service in Vienna, these two were the most important. He continually hearda capella, that is, pure choral musicwith its contrapuntal texture, and also learned all forms of solo singing and instrumental music, and so thoroughly also that he was at home in all of them. And yet, “honest Reutter” had only given him two lessons in musical theory!
Dies relates other characteristic anecdotes of his youthful time. Notwithstanding his advancement had been neglected, Joseph was contented with his position, and for this reason only, that Reutter was so delighted with his talent that he told his father if he had twelve sons he would take care of all of them. Two of his brothers indeed came to the chapel, one of them Michael Haydn, afterward Capellmeister at Salzburg, with whom Mozart’s biography has made us acquainted, and Joseph had the “infinite pleasure” of being compelled to instruct them. Even under such circumstances, he busily occupied himself with composition. Every piece of paper that came into his hands he covered with staves, though with much trouble, and stuck them full of notes, for he imagined it was all right if he only had his paper full. At one time Reutter surprised him just at the momentwhen he had stretched out before him a paper more than a yard long, with aSalve Reginafor twelve voices, sketched upon it. “Ha! what are you doing, my little fellow?” said he. But when he saw the long paper he laughed heartily at the plentiful rows ofSalves, and still more at the ridiculous idea of a boy writing for twelve voices, and exclaimed: “O, you silly youngster! are not two voices sufficient for you?” These curt rebuffs were profitable to Haydn. Reutter advised him to write variations to his own liking upon the pieces he heard in church, and this practice gave him fresh and original ideas which Reutter corrected. “I certainly had talent, and by dint of hard work I managed to get on. When my comrades were at their sports, I went to my own room, where there was no danger of disturbance, and practiced,” says Haydn.
Dies, speaking further of this time in Haydn’s youth, says: “I must guess at many details, for Haydn always spoke of his teacher with a reserve and respect which did honor to his heart”—feelings all the more to his credit when we consider the following statements, from the same authority: “What was veryembarrassing to him and at his age must have been painful, was the fact that it looked as if they were trying to starve him, soul and body. Joseph’s stomach observed a perpetual fast. He went to the occasional ‘academies,’ where refreshments were provided as compensation for the choir-boys, and once having made this valuable discovery, his propensity to attend was irresistible. He tried to sing as beautifully as he could that he might acquire a reputation and thus secure invitations which would give him the opportunity of appeasing his gnawing hunger.” At such times, when not observed, he would fill his pockets with “nadeln” or other delicacies. Reutter himself had very little income from which to pay his choir-boys, so they had to famish.
Notwithstanding he sensitively felt the misery of his condition, Haydn’s youthful buoyancy did not desert him. Dies says: “At the time the court was building the Summer Palace at Schonbrunn, Haydn had to sing there with the church musicians in the Whitsuntide holidays. When not engaged in the church he joined the other boys, climbing the scaffolding and made considerable noise on the boards.One day the boys suddenly perceived a lady; it was Maria Theresa herself, who at once ordered some one to drive away the noisy youngsters, and threaten them with a whipping if they were caught there again. On the very next day, urged on by his temerity, Haydn climbed the scaffolding alone, was caught and received the promised punishment which he deserved. Many years afterward, when Haydn was engaged in Prince Esterhazy’s service, the Empress came to Esterhaz. Haydn presented himself and offered his humble thanks for the punishment received on that occasion. He had to relate the whole story, which occasioned much merriment.”
At that time we behold our hero in an exalted and dignified position, but how thorny was the upward course!
“The beautiful voice with which he had so often satisfied his hunger, suddenly became untrue and commenced to break,” says Dies. The Empress was accustomed to attend the festival of St. Leopold at the neighboring monastery of Klosterneuburg. She had already intimated to Reutter, in sport, that Haydn “could not sing any more, he crowed.”At this festival, therefore, he selected the younger brother, Michael, for the singing. He pleased the Empress so much that she sent him twenty-four ducats. As Haydn was no longer of any service to Reutter in a pecuniary way, and particularly as his place was now filled, he decided to dismiss his superfluous boarder. Haydn’s boyish folly accelerated his departure. One of the other choir-boys wore his hair in a queue, contrary to the style, and Haydn had cut it off. Reutter decided that he should be feruled. The time of punishment came. Haydn, now eighteen years of age, sought in every way to escape, and at last declared that he would not be a choir-boy any longer if he were punished: “That will not help you. You shall first be punished and then march.”
Reutter kept his word, but he counseled his dismissed singer to become a soprano, as they were very well paid at that time. Haydn, with genuine manliness, would not consent to the tempting proposal, and late in the autumn of 1749 he started out in the great world in which he was such a stranger, “helpless, without money, with three poor shirts and a thread-barecoat.” After wandering about the streets, distressed with hunger, he threw himself down on the nearest bench and spent his first night in the damp November air, under the open heavens. He was lucky enough to meet an acquaintance, also a choir-singer, and an instructor as well. Though he and his wife and child occupied one small chamber, he gave the helpless wanderer shelter—a trait of that Austrian humanity which, at a later period, was reflected in the exquisite tones of Haydn’s art. “His parents were very much distressed,” says Dies again; “his poor mother, especially, expressed her solicitude with tearful eyes. She begged her son to yield to the wishes and prayers of his parents and devote himself to the church. She gave him no rest, but Haydn was immovable. He would give them no reasons. He thought he expressed himself clearly enough when he compressed his feelings into the few words: ‘I can never be a priest.’” In his seventy-sixth year, he said to the choir-boys who were presented to him: “Be really honest and industrious and never forget God.” It is evident, therefore, that it was not the lack of sincerepiety that kept him from the priesthood. He felt that he was called to another and more fitting sphere, and we now know that his feelings and impulses did not deceive him.
Necessity, however, came near forcing him into the life he had so resolutely refused, for he got little money from the serenades and choir-work in which he took part, though at other times it left him the wished-for leisure for study and composition. The quiet loneliness in that little dark garret under the tiles, the complete lack of those things which can entertain an unoccupied mind, and the utter piteousness of his condition, at times led him into such unhappy reveries that he was driven to his music to chase away his troubles. “At one time,” says Dies, “his thoughts were so gloomy, or more likely his hunger was so keen, that he resolved, in spite of his prejudices, to join the Servite Order so that he could get sufficient to eat. This, however, was only a fleeting impulse, for his nature would never allow him to really take such a step. His disposition happily inclined to joyousness and saved him from any serious outbreaks of melancholy. When the summerrain or the winter snow, leaking through the cracks of the roof, awoke him, he regarded such little accidents as natural, and made sport of them.”
For some time he was not positively sure what course to pursue, and he projected a thousand plans, which were abandoned almost as soon as they were formed. For the most part hunger was the motive that urged him on to rash resolves, for instance, a pilgrimage to the Maria cloister in Styria. There he went at once to the choir-master, announced himself as a chapel-scholar, produced some of his musical sketches, and offered his services. The choir-master did not believe his story and dismissed him, as he became more importunate, saying: “There are too many ragamuffins coming here from Vienna, claiming to be chapel-boys, who can’t sing a note.” Another day, Haydn went to the choir, made the acquaintance of one of the singers and begged of him his music-book. The young man excused himself on the ground that it was against the rules. Haydn pressed a piece of money into his hand and stood by him until the music commenced. Suddenly he seized the bookout of his hands and sang so beautifully that the chorus-master was amazed, and afterward apologized to him. The priests also inquired about him and invited him to their table. Haydn remained there eight days, and, as he said, filled his stomach for a long time to come, and afterward was presented with a little purse made up for him.
Among the bequests in Haydn’s will of 1802 is the following: “To the maiden, Anna Buchholz, one hundred florins, because her grandfather in my youth and at a time of urgent necessity lent me one hundred and fifty florins, without interest, which I repaid fifty years ago.” This, for him a considerable loan, enabled him for the first time to have a room of his own where he could work quietly. This was not far from the year 1750. Dies relates, in the year 1805: “Chance placed in Haydn’s hands, a short time before, one of his youthful compositions which he had utterly forgotten—a short four-voiced mass with two obligato soprano parts. The discovery of this lost child, after fifty-two years of absence, was the occasion of true joy to the parent. ‘What particularly pleases me in this littlework,’ said he, ‘is its melody and positive youthful spirit,’ and he decided to give it a modern dress.” The mass was by this means preserved and may be regarded as his first large work. We are thus enabled to date it at the beginning of the year 1750.
At that time Haydn lived in the Michaeler house (which is still preserved), in the Kohlmarket, one of the choicest sections of the city, but was again under the roof and exposed to the inclemency of the weather. At one time the room had no stove, and winter mornings he had to bring water from the well, as that in his wash-basin was frozen. There were some distinguished occupants in the house; the princess Esterhazy, whose son, Paul Anton, became Haydn’s first patron, and the famous and talented poet Metastasio, who not long after confided to him his little friend Marianna Martines as a piano scholar, and paid his board as compensation. The child must have been well grounded in music, for thirty years later Mozart frequently played four-handed pieces with her. Her instruction, after the style of the time, obliged Haydn to write little compositions. These early pieces circulated freelybut they have all been lost. He considered it a compliment for people to accept them, and did not know that the music-dealers were doing a flourishing business with them. Many a time he stopped with delight before the windows to gaze at one or another of the published copies. That this work, however, was very distasteful to him is evident from his own words: “After my voice was absolutely gone, I dragged myself through eight miserable years, teaching the young. It is this wretched struggle for bread which crushes so many men of genius, taking the time they should devote to study. It was my own bitter experience and I should have accomplished little or nothing if I had not zealously worked at night upon my compositions.” Urgent as his necessity was, he declined to take a permanent and good paying position in a Vienna band, and thereby sell his entire time. “Freedom! what more can one ask for?” said Beethoven. Haydn insisted upon having it at least for his genius. Many times in his life he gave expression to this feeling. In his old age he said to Griesinger: “When I sat at my old worm-eaten piano, I envied no king his happiness.”We shall see that he had more of real inward happiness as a composer, than as a pianist.
With such a disposition he easily retained his good humor and equanimity, and, many of his youthful traits clearly reflect the Haydn of the genial minuets and humorous finales. For the entertainment of his comrades, who were never lacking, he once tied a chestnut roaster’s hand-cart to the wheels of a fiacre, and then called to the driver of the latter to go on, while he quietly made off, followed by the curses of the two victims. At another time he conceived the idea of inviting several musicians at a specified hour to a pretended serenade. The rendezvous was in the Tiefengraben, where Beethoven lived for a few years after his arrival in Vienna. They were instructed to distribute themselves before different houses and at the street-corners. Even in the High Bridge street, where Mozart lived at a later period, stood a kettle-drummer. Very few of the musicians knew why they were there, and each had permission to play what he pleased. Dies concludes his description of this roguish trick as follows: “Scarcely had the horrible concert begun when the astonished occupants threwopen their windows and commenced to curse the infernal music. In the meantime the watchmen approached. The players scampered off at the right time, except the drummer and one violinist, who were arrested. As they would not name the ringleader, they were discharged after a few days’ imprisonment.”
It was at this time of his early struggles that he went out one day to purchase some piano work suitable for study, and acting upon the advice of the music-dealer took a volume of the sonatas of Philip Emanuel Bach, the composer, who first placed piano music upon an independent and so to speak, poetical foundation. “It appears to me,” says this gifted son of the great Bach, in an autobiographical sketch, “that it is the special province of music to move the heart.” To such an one the genial and imaginative nature of our genuine Austrian musician did involuntary homage from the very first. “I never left my piano until I had played the sonatas through,” said Haydn, when old, with all the enthusiasm of youth, “and he who knows me thoroughly can not but find that I owe very much to Bach, for I understood and studied him profoundly. Indeed, uponone occasion he complimented me upon it.” Bach once said that he was the only one who completely understood him and could make good use of his knowledge. Rochlitz informs us that Haydn said: “I played these sonatas innumerable times, especially when I felt troubled, and I always left the instrument refreshed and in cheerful spirits.” A sketch of this same Bach, dated 1764, says: “Always rich in invention, attractive and spirited in melody, bold and stately in harmony, we know him already by a hundred masterpieces, but not as yet do we fully know him.”
In reality, instrumental music was now for the first time entering with self-confidence and strength upon the freer path of the opera. The end of that path, though far distant, was individual characterization. Bach himself once wrote a preface to a trio for strings. He says in it that he has sought to express something which otherwise would require voices and words. It may be regarded as a conversation between a sanguine and a melancholy person who dispute with one another through the first and second movements, until the melancholy man accepts the assertion of the other.At last, they are reconciled in the finale. The melancholy man commences the movement with a certain feeble cheerfulness, mixed with sadness, which at last threatens to become actual grief, but after a pause, is dissipated in a figure of lively triplets. The sanguine man follows steadily along, “out of courtesy,” and they strengthen their agreement, while the one imitates the other even to his identity. From such germs, in which the intellectual idea is more than its artistic expression, Haydn evolved that which made him the founder of modern instrumental music, the extreme limit of which is the representation of the world’s vital will.
Melody, in other words, the vital will illuminated by reason, also begins at this point to assert its sure mastery, as the song and the dance were then the essential type of this modern instrumental music. Key, accent, rhythm, even the rests, now became the conscious means of fixed color and tone, in which every emotion, every aspiration, every exertion of our powers has its full value. Harmonic modulations help to maintain and to deepen the given tone-color. Above all else, the dissonance is no longer a matter of mere chance ortransient charm to the ear, but the road to an absolute effect, designed by the composer. Bach many a time sought for it, but Haydn gave it poetical effect. He does not hesitate, for example, in the finale of the great E flat major sonata, to introduce the augmented triad, which Richard Wagner uses in such a strikingly characteristic manner, bringing it in as a prepared dissonance, but at the same time allowing it to enter freely. And still more, they had before them the boundless treasures of Sebastian Bach, which Mozart and Beethoven at a later period opened so fully and which they emphasized with such heart-stirring power.
The difference of keys moreover became recognized as of greater value, and the ground-color of pieces is more individual. It does not follow, however, on this account that the marvelous gifts of native counterpoint were thrown aside. On the other hand, Haydn, in his treatment of the so-called thematic development in the second part of the first movement and in the finale of the sonata, brings them out according to their proper intellectual value, so that this music also must be “heard with the understanding.” Finally, the salientpoints of the whole style, which was called the “galante,” because it did not belong to the church or to the erudite but to the salon, is as, we may say, the grand architectural gradations and building up of the whole, which gives to it an arrangement of parts like the symmetry of the Renaissance art, and the same similarity modern music in general holds to the Gothic of the German counterpoint. Haydn by nature and every vital function, belonged to active life, with its manifold forms of thought and changing mental conditions, and, therefore, found the sonata-form the very best for the depositing of his musical wealth, and for the magnifying of his own inner powers and capacities by its further development. It was for this reason that he played the Bach “Sonatas for Students and Amateurs” with such delight and sat at his piano so gladly, for it aroused in him a freer activity of fancy and heartfelt emotions of similar form.
Philip Emanuel Bach’s instruction book, the “Versuch uber die wahre Art das Clavier zu spielen,” published in Berlin in 1753, with which Haydn became acquainted shortly afterward, was, in his judgment, “the best, mostthorough and useful work which had ever appeared as an instruction book,” and Mozart as well as Beethoven expressed the same opinion, and yet the ridiculous accusation was made after this that Haydn had copied and caricatured Bach, because Bach was not on good terms with him. The story may perhaps have arisen from the fact that Bach in his autobiography (1773) sought to attribute the decline of the music of his day to “the comedian so popular just now.” This, however, referred to something entirely different, and in 1783, Bach publicly wrote: “I am constrained by news I have received from Vienna to believe that this worthy man, whose works give me more and more pleasure, is as truly my friend as I am his. Work alone praises or condemns its masters, and I therefore measure every one by that standard.” Dies even declares that Haydn, in 1795, returned from London by way of Hamburg to make the personal acquaintance of Bach, but arrived too late, for he was dead. Bach died in 1788, and could it be possible that Haydn was not aware of it? The journey by way of Hamburg had another purpose.
Haydn still kept up his violin practice, and received further instruction from his countryman and friend, Dittersdorf, afterward the composer of “The Doctor and Apothecary.” Dies says: “Once they strolled through the streets at night and stopped before a common beer-house, in which some half drunk and sleepy musicians were wretchedly scraping away on a Haydn minuet. ‘Let us go in,’ said Haydn. They entered the drinking-room. Haydn stepped up to the first fiddler and very coolly asked: ‘Whose minuet is this?’ The fiddler replied still more coolly, and even fiercely: ‘Haydn’s.’ Haydn strode up to him, saying with feigned anger: ‘It is a worthless thing.’ ‘What! what! what!’ shrieked the interrupted fiddler, in his wrath, springing up from his seat. The rest of the players imitated their leader, and would have beaten Haydn over the head with their instruments, had not Dittersdorf, who was of larger stature, seized him in his arms and shoved him out of doors.”
Dittersdorf himself, in his biography, narrates another instance of this intimacy. In 1762, he accompanied Gluck to Italy. Duringhis absence, the famous Lolli appeared in Vienna with great success. On his return, he resolved to surpass Lolli’s fame, and feigning sickness he kept his room for an entire week, and practiced incessantly. Then he reappeared and achieved a success. The universal verdict was, that Lolli excited wonder and Dittersdorf too, but that the latter played to the heart also. He adds: “The rest of the summer and the following winter, I was frequently in the society of the gracious Haydn. Every new piece of other composers which we heard we criticised between ourselves, commending what was good and condemning what was bad.”
But let us return to the year 1750. Dies says: “When about twenty-one years of age, Haydn composed a comic opera with German text. It was called ‘Der Krumme Teufel,’ (‘The Devil on Two Sticks’) and originated in a singular way. Kurtz, a theatrical genius, was at that time the manager of the old Karnthnerthor theater, and amused the public asBernardon. He had heard Haydn very favorably mentioned, which induced him to seek his acquaintance. A happy chance soon furnishedthe opportunity. Kurtz had a beautiful wife, who condescended to receive serenades from the young artists. The young Haydn (who called this ‘Gassatim gehen,’ and composed a quintet for just such an occasion in 1753) brought her a serenade, whereat not only the lady but Kurtz also felt honored. He sought Haydn’s closer acquaintance, and after this, the following scene occurred in his house. ‘Sit down at the piano,’ said Kurtz, ‘and accompany the pantomime which I will perform for you, with fitting music. Imagine thatBernardonhas fallen into the water and is trying to save himself by swimming!’ Kurtz calls an attendant and sprawls across a chair, while it is drawn here and there about the room, flinging out his arms and legs like a swimmer, Haydn meantime imitating the motion of the waves and the action of swimming in 6/8 time.Bernardonsuddenly sprang up, embraced Haydn, and, nearly smothering him with kisses, exclaimed: ‘Haydn, you are the man for me. You must write me an opera!’ This was the origin of ‘Der Krumme Teufel.’ Haydn received twenty-five ducats for it, and thought himself very rich. It wasbrought out twice with great applause and was then prohibited on account of the offensive personality of the text.”
Here, therefore, we have an example of the fruitful germs of invention which Haydn displayed in motives and melodies, showing us, as it were, a personal presence possessing those musical characteristics which Mozart and Beethoven developed with such striking fidelity to life, and which by their efforts again invested dramatic representation with a new language. What the Italian had accomplished only in the way of a certain native grace of melody, and the French, on the other hand, with too partial a study in their dramatic recitative and piano music, German intelligence, and above all, German feeling, accomplished by the unprejudiced acceptance of melody itself. We also observe, mingled with these elements, that vein of German humor which first welled up in complete spontaneity and fullness in Haydn’s music, so that we have, as it were, all the successive steps of development in the building up of his artistic individuality. At this point his youth and the main part of his early education close. We have reached theperiod of his first original creation, but it may be of interest, before we close this first chapter, to add a few words about the opera itself, in order that we may appreciate the real nature of this first original accomplishment of the artist as it deserves.
We observe, first of all, that in the test of his skill he was to illustrate a storm at sea and the struggle of a drowning man, and that Haydn’s fingers at last involuntarily fell into the movement, (6/8 time), which the comedian wished. In the piece itself, an old, love-sick dotard was to be cured and the good-natured devil must help. The details of this story and many other incidents of that period of art in Vienna may be found in C. F. Pohl’s “Joseph Haydn,” Vol. I (Berlin, 1875). But the principal point to be observed here is the close union of absolute music with the dramatic element, especially with the action, and that it was the perfection of the genuine humor of the popular Vienna comedies of that time which first directed Haydn’s fancy to the expression of pantomime in tones. When the “Krumme Teufel” was finished, Haydn brought it to Kurtz, but the maid would not let him in, sowe are told, because her master was “studying.” What was Haydn’s astonishment when looking through a glass door he beheldBernardonstanding before a large mirror, making faces and acting comical pantomime! It was the “free, sprightly comedy” which the Vienna harlequin possessed, and which was now revealed to Haydn in its complete individuality by personal observation. But finally, while this humor was kept down at this time by its own crudeness and narrowness, as soon as the higher dramatic poetry of the German language sprung up in Austria, it reappeared in a nobler form in music, and it is Haydn who represented this genuine German popular humor in our art. The last Vienna harlequin,Bernardon, and his buffoonery disappeared, but the comedy was preserved in full and permanent inheritance by Haydn in his comic opera, “Der Krumme Teufel.” The opera itself we do not possess, but its healthy and noble promise is realized all through Haydn’s instrumental music, to the origin of which we now come.