Part 6 (2/2)

Mozart was in Vienna at the date of Salomon's visit. Haydn had been strongly drawn towards the young musician ever since the time, five years before, when, after listening to one of Mozart's quartets, he had delighted the heart of Leopold Mozart by declaring that his son was the greatest composer he had ever heard. Mozart's affection for Haydn was equally warm, and now, on hearing that the latter contemplated a journey to England, he tried to persuade him against it, urging that he was advanced in years and unacquainted with the English language. Haydn listened to his friend's objections, and then observed with a smile, 'No matter; I speak a language which is understood all over the world.' 'Then,' said Mozart, grasping Haydn's hand as he spoke, it is good-bye, for we shall never meet again!' The words were prophetic, for only a year later Haydn in London was stunned by the news of Mozart's death.

It was a stormy December day when Haydn and Salomon set sail from Calais, and the pa.s.sage to Dover was a long and trying one for the travellers. Nevertheless, Haydn, taking his stand on the deck, enjoyed his first sight of the waves, and as the spray dashed in his face he recalled with a smile how he had attempted to write the tempest music for the actor-manager Kurz. A long interval separated him from those days of keen want and fierce struggle, when he strove, almost against hope, to establish a foothold for himself in the music-loving city of Vienna! Now he was travelling to a greater city, not as an unknown, struggling student, but with the a.s.surance of a welcome befitting one whom fame had already claimed for her own.

[Ill.u.s.tration: '_Haydn enjoyed his first sight of the waves._']

The night of his arrival in London was pa.s.sed at Bland's music warehouse, No. 45, High Holborn,[8] but the following day he went to live with Salomon at the latter's lodgings, No. 18, Great Pulteney Street, Golden Square.[9] Salomon had by no means overestimated the warmth of the welcome which London was prepared to give to the composer whose works were already familiar to English music-lovers.

From every quarter admiration and attentions were lavished upon him; all the most celebrated people besought his acquaintance, and he was invited everywhere. Yet his equanimity never deserted him. He took everything very simply, and as if it were his due, and thoroughly enjoyed the river parties and picnics which were arranged in his honour. Not so, however, the lengthy dinners or evening entertainments in town, where his ignorance of the language and customs of his hosts made him feel less at his ease. The incessant noise of the streets was a source of great discomfort to one who had been so long accustomed to the silence of the country; and he positively refused to fas.h.i.+on himself to the late hours of London. When, later on, he removed his lodging to Lisson Grove, he writes in a strain of rejoicing to a Vienna friend that he has at length found himself in the country amid lovely scenery, where he lives as if he were in a monastery! It is difficult for us to imagine the Lisson Grove of a century ago, when the road stretched away through green fields and woodland s.p.a.ces.

The first of Salomon's concerts was held on March 11, 1791, at the Hanover Square Rooms. The hall was crowded, and the performance of Haydn's 'Symphony' (Salomon, No. 2) was received with great applause; nor would the audience remain satisfied until the _adagio_ movement had been repeated--an event of such rare occurrence in those days as to call for comment in the newspapers. This marked the beginning of a most successful series of concerts, at each of which Haydn received a great ovation. His benefit took place on May 16, and realized 350.

The Handel Commemoration Festival--the fifth and last of the century--was held in Westminster Abbey during this visit, and it must have been a moving sight to Haydn to observe the crowds flocking to the Abbey early on that summer morning in order to hear the master's greatest work. Haydn had secured a seat close to the King's box--a position which commanded a view of the nave and the vast concourse of listeners. Rarely had those venerable walls looked down upon such a sea of expectant faces as that which was turned towards the distant bank of musicians and singers when the moment drew nigh for the performance to begin. There was reverence expressed in the hushed silence which pervaded every nook and corner of the Abbey at that supreme moment--a befitting reverence both for the dead composer whose immortal work was to be celebrated, and for the sacredness of the subject which he had chosen for ill.u.s.tration. As the oratorio proceeded Haydn became more and more impressed. He had never heard the 'Messiah' performed on so grand a scale before, and when the opening chords of the 'Hallelujah Chorus' rang through the nave and the entire audience sprang to their feet, he burst into tears, exclaiming to those around him, 'He is the master of us all!'

[Ill.u.s.tration: '_Lisson Grove a century ago._']

The first week in July found him at Oxford, at Commemoration, whither he had gone to receive the honorary degree of Doctor of Music. Three grand concerts were given in his honour, the princ.i.p.al singers and performers having been brought from London, and on each occasion his compositions were greeted with great applause. He appeared at the third concert clad in his Doctor's gown, and met with an enthusiastic reception. It was evident, however, that he was not feeling quite at home in his new vestment, for when the students clapped their hands and shouted he raised the gown as high as he could, exclaiming as he did so, 'I thank you,' whereupon the applause was redoubled. Haydn writes to a friend that he had to walk about for three whole days clad in this guise, and he only wishes that his Vienna friends could have seen him.

Amidst the wealth of incident which signalised his visit two little scenes found a cherished corner in Haydn's memory. He was invited by the Prince of Wales to visit Oatlands Park as the guest of the Duke of York, who was spending his honeymoon there with his young bride, the Princess of Prussia. The seventeen-year-old bride welcomed the sight of Haydn's kindly face and the familiar sound of the German tongue, and in one of his letters he describes how the _liebe Kleine_ sat beside him as he played his 'Symphony,' humming the well-known airs to herself, and urging him to go on playing until long past midnight. The Princess also sang and played to him, whilst the Prince of Wales played the violoncello, their attention being entirely given to Haydn's works. It was during this visit that the portrait by Hoppner was painted, which hangs in the gallery at Hampton Court.

The second picture, though one of a very different kind, he himself described as having afforded him one of the greatest pleasures of his visit. He went to St. Paul's to witness the gathering of the charity children at their anniversary meeting, and the sight of the children's faces and the sound of their young voices echoing through the vast building touched him deeply, and no doubt recalled to his mind the singing of the choristers in St. Stephen's Cathedral in bygone days.

Frau Haydn had evidently heard reports of her husband's successes, for she troubled him with a letter at this time, in which she related how she had found a small house and garden in the suburbs of Vienna, which she felt would exactly suit her requirements when she became a widow.

She therefore begged that he would send her the money--a matter of two thousand gulden--to complete the purchase. Haydn did not comply with this simple request, but on his return journey to Vienna he inspected the house, approved it, and bought it for himself!

It was in pa.s.sing through Bonn, on his homeward journey, that Haydn met Beethoven, and praised the composition which the young a.s.sistant Hof-organist submitted to him.[10] The reception accorded to the composer on his arrival at Vienna was in every way worthy of the fame which his London visit had added to his reputation, and every one was anxious to hear the symphonies which had taken the Londoners by storm.

The success of this visit led to a repet.i.tion in 1794. On this occasion Haydn was accompanied by his faithful copyist and servant, Johann Elssler, a son of the copyist to Prince Esterhazy, to whom, since his birth, Haydn had acted as benefactor. Elssler's attachment to his master was coupled with the greatest veneration for his genius, and it was even reported that at such times as he thought himself un.o.bserved he would stop with the censer before his master's portrait, as if it were an altar.

Once more Haydn was to pa.s.s through a series of successes under Salomon's direction. His symphonies formed part of all the London programmes. His popularity reached a height that rendered him the 'lion' of the season. He was frequently invited to Buckingham Palace to perform to the King and Queen, and he was not allowed to depart without a pressing request on the part of her Majesty that he would settle in England. When London went to Bath, Haydn went there too, in company with Dr. Burney, the eminent musician, and at once became the centre of fas.h.i.+on and interest.

A description of all the incidents which this second visit comprised would extend our story to an undue length. We will therefore content ourselves by describing a touching little incident that marked his homeward journey in August of the following year. To Haydn's complete surprise he was invited by Count Harrach and a party of n.o.blemen and gentlemen to accompany them to the Count's park, situated close to Rohrau, where a monument and bust of himself had been erected. He was next taken to Rohrau itself, to inspect his old home and birthplace, which had been preserved with every mark of loving care by those who held the composer in such high esteem.

Haydn's emotions were deeply stirred by this action on the part of his countrymen, as well as by the sight of his dear old home. Memories of his happy childhood crowded upon him as he stood before the door, and, prompted by a sudden impulse, he stooped and imprinted a kiss upon the threshold; then, bidding his friends enter the cottage, he pointed to the settle which stood beside the stove, and told them that it was when seated on that settle, listening to his parents' singing, that his musical career had begun. What, after all, were the grand palaces, in which he had pa.s.sed so many years of his life, with their costly furniture and troops of servants, compared with that dear old cottage home in which he had dreamed his childish dreams of music, and listened to the hammers in the workshop beating out the time as he played on his toy violin?

During his London visits Haydn had often expressed his admiration for the English 'G.o.d save the King,' and he regretted that his own country had no National Anthem of its own. This thought weighed the more with him after his return because war had broken out with France, and he felt that the people needed a means of giving expression to their loyalty. He accordingly wrote the song 'Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser,' or 'The Emperor's Hymn,' which was performed for the first time simultaneously at the Vienna National Theatre and the princ.i.p.al theatres of the country on the Emperor's birthday, February 12, 1797.

This beautiful air was always a favourite one with Haydn during the remainder of his life.

A portrait of Haydn at this time shows a man of short, substantial build, and a somewhat ill-proportioned frame. The face, of which the aquiline nose, projecting under-lip, and ma.s.sive jaw were strongly marked features, was very dark, and its habitual expression was dignified and earnest, with an inclination to sternness. The dark grey eyes, however, shone with a benevolent light that afforded an insight into their owner's true nature--indeed, he used to say of himself humorously that 'anyone could see by the look of him that he was a good-natured sort of fellow.' He always wore a wig, with side-curls and a pigtail, and the wig partly concealed his broad forehead. His dignified expression relaxed in conversation, but although he was not at all averse to joking, his laughter was always moderate and controlled. Towards children he showed a love and sympathy that never failed to win their confidence and affection. The t.i.tle of 'Papa Haydn,' by which he was known both to young and old during his lifetime and with which his memory has ever since been coupled, was the natural outcome of the universal affection in which he was held by all cla.s.ses. He was the 'father' of his chapel, sympathising with them in their difficulties, and interceding in their behalf with the Prince whenever occasion arose. In the same way his interest went out to all young and struggling men of talent, to whom he gave advice and help.

But the t.i.tle 'Papa Haydn' may claim to possess a further significance in its use at the present time, 'as if musicians of all countries claimed descent from him.'

Along with his indomitable industry went a love of order and method by which every action was ruled, every habit framed. He rose very early to begin work, for Nature seemed sweetest to him in her waking hours; but he would never put a pen to paper or see a visitor until he was fully dressed; and even when old age prevented his leaving the house he maintained the same degree of punctiliousness in regard to his appearance. His devoutness formed an indissoluble part of his nature, and he regarded his genius as a gift of G.o.d which he was bound to use thankfully for the benefit of mankind and to the glory of Him who gave it. He never wrote a score without the words 'In nomine Domini'

appearing as an inscription, whilst 'Laus Deo' came at the end.

Haydn's love of humour is brought out in many of his compositions, notably in the 'Surprise Symphony,' where the drums come in with a tremendous bang at the end of the _andante_ movement. He is said to have invented this part in order to arouse the attention of the audience and make the ladies scream. Again, in the 'Toy Symphony,' he shows a child-like appreciation of drollery in producing genuine music out of such toy instruments as tin whistles, jew's-harps, toy trumpets, etc. The 'Toy Symphony' was composed at Eisenstadt, where, having visited a village fair and purchased a number of toy instruments, Haydn was seized with the idea of making his orchestra play upon them--an order which upset their gravity so much that they could hardly keep time for laughing. A little story ill.u.s.trative of his love of fun may be told here. During his second visit to London he came in contact with a certain amateur violinist whose professed fondness for the extreme upper notes of his instrument was such as to incite Haydn to perpetrate a joke at his expense. He therefore wrote a seemingly simple sonata for piano and violin, which he called 'Jacob's Dream,' and dispatched it anonymously to the conceited violinist. The player was charmed with the manner in which the piece began. It was apparent that the composer thoroughly understood the instrument! As he proceeded, however, the notes rose higher and higher, like the steps of a ladder, and at length, seeing that there was no prospect of their ever descending again, the perspiration broke out on his forehead, and, flinging the music from him with disgust, he declared that the writer knew nothing whatever of the violin!

Haydn was now sixty-five, but the crowning work of his life had yet to be achieved. Whilst in London Salomon had shown him a poem, founded upon 'Paradise Lost,' which had been written many years before, in the hope that Handel would have set it to music. Haydn carried the poem home, and later on conceived the idea of writing an oratorio on the subject. From the moment of its inception the task of composing the 'Creation,' as the new work was called, became a labour of increasing love with Haydn. 'Never was I so pious,' he writes, 'as when composing the ”Creation.” I knelt down every day and prayed G.o.d to strengthen me for the work.' The oratorio was first publicly performed in Vienna on March 19, 1799, and created a profound impression. Haydn himself was almost overcome by the sensations which the occasion aroused. In a short time the 'Creation' was heard in every princ.i.p.al city of Europe.

In places where no means existed for its production choral societies were formed for this special object, so that for many years the work took equal rank in popular favour with the 'Messiah.' As a work of art, however, the 'Creation' differs essentially, both in character and style, from Handel's masterpiece. We have here none of the declamatory pa.s.sages which are so prominent in the 'Messiah,' the story of the Creation being unfolded to us in a series of wonderful tone-pictures--strengthened where necessary by choruses, but keeping throughout to the epic character of the poem. Many of the pa.s.sages are strikingly beautiful. Who that has heard them can ever forget the airs, 'With Verdure Clad,' and 'In Native Worth,' or the splendid chorus, 'The Heavens are telling the Glory of G.o.d'?

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