A Dickensonian Life by Sue Talley
Franz Joseph Haydn (1732-1809) lived a life Charles Dickens might have written about, had his shrewish wife died and had he married again to live happily ever after. The fact is, he seemed to live happily in spite of the burden of his married life. He was a happy man.
He was born in Rohrau, Austria, the son of a wheelwright and a cook, and his name is evidently Croatian in extraction (Hajden). Apparently his family, along with a whole colony of Croatians, had settled in Austria after leaving their native land. His grandfather remembered the town under siege by the Turks; he remembered it all too well, for he was one of the few survivors. Those were the days when the great Ottoman empire, determined to spread itself and its Moslem religion to the far corners of the earth, was knocking at the very doors of Europe. But Franz, or “Joey” (Sepperl) as he was called, didn’t remember the siege of 1683.
He was born into a musical home. His parents (Mathias Haydn and Maria Koller Haydn) both sang, with his father accompanying on the harp, though he did not read music. His brother, Michael, became a highly respected composer of church music. His parents rooted in him a strong love of Austria and of God. Since his mother was a cook in the home of a nobleman, she probably also taught the children how to behave with the gentry. Folk-songs of their native land probably served the family for repertoire, together with church songs and chants, and both would stand Joseph in good stead in his many years as a composer.
When a relative named Frankh came to the door and saw Haydn playing two pieces of wood for a violin, at the age of six, he persuaded the parents that there was talent in their child and that he should take him to school in Hainburg. And that is where the Dickensonian part comes in. “I used to get more flogging than food,” Haydn said later (Grove, 349), although he expressed gratitude to his cousin for his excellent education. At the age of six, Franz Joseph was already sensitive about his appearance and upset with the fact that he was allowed to get spots on his clothes and had to wear a wig “for the sake of cleanliness,” though you can imagine that the wig did nothing to disguise the smell of dirt. Frankh had little Haydn learn violin and klavier and on one occasion, the drum.
It was no doubt an occasion of great joy when the “little urchin,” as he called himself, was spotted by a talent scout from Vienna, George Reutter, who was the Kappelmeister (maestro di cappella) at St. Stephen’s Church. Nevertheless, Haydn retained a sense of gratitude for his “first instructor in music,” Johann Mathias Frankh, for as long as he lived (Grove, 350).
So off he went to Vienna to continue his studies on the violin and klavier, together with religion, Latin, and the “three R’s.” Surprisingly, he had very little actual tutelage in composition, although he began to write prolifically, a habit he would retain all his life. “I supposed it was good, as long as the paper was covered,” he said later. He was full of the usual pranks of schoolboys and the Empress Maria Theresa, whose unfinished palace the boys often visited, caught him climbing high on the scaffolding at one point, and advised that he be brought to his senses by a good spanking.
In 1745, Franz Joseph’s brother, Michael, joined him at St. Stephen’s. At that time, FJ’s voice began to break. Once that happened, he was of no use to the kappelmeister, who suggested that there was one way that the beautiful high voice might be retained—castration. When this was heard by his father, his father dashed to Vienna to save him from so ignominious a fate.
Now, there’s a reminder of exactly what the nobility thought of musicians. They were considered part of the servant class. A word from Maria Theresa to the Kappelmeister (“our young Haydn is beginning to crow like a rooster”) was enough to have Reutter looking for an excuse to dismiss him from the choir. Apparently he didn’t have to wait long, because Haydn, the practical joker, cut off a classmate’s pigtail. “Caned” and then dismissed, supplanted at St. Stephen’s by his brother, who also was a man of genuine talent, Franz Joseph went off to look for poor quarters in which to live and in which to immerse himself in composition.
He rented an attic, with the help of friends, and pulled out the music of Karl Philip Emmanuel Bach, which he studied to learn the art of composition. Still largely self-taught, he remained an original throughout his life. He mastered the violin, wrote Masses and comic operas as the occasion demanded (for very little money, of course), and finally inserted himself into a kindly Spanish family, whose two daughters he instructed. There he met the composer Porpora (of whom you probably have never heard), who, in return for menial services, instructed Haydn in composition. Porpora used Haydn as accompanist, and the work helped the latter to become acquainted with the requisite rich patrons who alone could sponsor him as a composer and musician.
It was one of these wealthy patrons who took him to the spa at Weinzirl, where he wrote eighteen string quartets. This was an important time of his life, as he began experimenting with instrumental writing. There were just a few people in the “orchestra” of his day—whoever happened to be at the country-house where Franz resided—but he wrote so well for them that his reputation spread. He added a fourth movement to the string quartet which then developed into the symphony; the fourth movement was the dance form, “Minuet.” From this point, Haydn became the “father” of the modern symphony.
When he returned to Vienna, Haydn had gained much respect from the conosciuti, those well acquainted with music. He was able to raise his salary from 4 florins to 200 florins. That was little enough, but it was something, and he felt that he now had sufficient means to marry. He fell in love with a young lady by the last name of Keller, but she dashed off and became a nun. That left him with her older sister, Maria Anna. Having no means of escape, he married her at St. Stephen’s, on Nove. 26, 1760—a big mistake. “His wife was heartless, unsociable, quarrelsome, extravagant, and bigoted,” claims W.H. Hadow, “who, as Haydn said, cared not a straw whether he was an artist or a shoemaker” (p. 352). This attractive creature burdened his life until 1800, when she died at Baden, near Vienna.
Meanwhile, disappointed as he may have been in his marriage, Haydn showed his resilience through his music. Word of its excellence came to the ear of Prince Anton Esterhazy, and it was in the service of his family that Haydn was to live to the end of his life. The Esterhaz was a rich house—so rich that they could do almost anything. Haydn’s first “master” of the house was Prince Anton; he had sixteen excellent players for Haydn to work with, and a Kappelmeister who was probably, judging from his remarks, jealous of Haydn’s abilities, but who was himself excellent in counterpoint and dedicated to the service of the Church. (He referred to Haydn as a “scribbler of songs,” and a “mere fop,” which makes one wonder if he was a bit jealous of the man’s wonderful reputation.) Haydn, whose outstanding characteristic seems to have humility when it came to his relationships with his peers, looked up to Werner, and seemed to speak ill of nobody.
Although Prince Anton passed away, he was succeeded by an even more generous spendthrift of a fellow referred to as “Michael the Magnificent.” He was known for his diamond-covered uniform. A musician himself (he played the baritone horn), he had an orchestra including a first violin, cello, 2 French horns, and other wind instruments. Other instruments were made available to Haydn as needed. During this fruitful time (Haydn was known for getting up at 6 a.m. and writing until 10 every day), a Te Deum (“We Praise Thee, O God”), operettas, cantatas, and (in 1765) string quartets were written. Upon the death of Werner, the prince decided to build a grand summer-home and call it “Esterház.” It was almost as magnificent as Versailles, according to admiring guests (p. 353). Theaters and opera-houses were part of the construction, along with greenhouses, canals and dykes, flower gardens, and a wood grove containing a deer park. Grottoes, hermitages, and temples were also piously constructed. A café was constructed where singers, actors, dancers, and puppeteers met. Few of the musicians brought their wives and families to Esterház, whch made it difficult when Prince Michael made the performing season very long, prolonging it through the autumn. Haydn loved the splendid castle and was particularly fond of the marionette theater. He reported:
My prince was always satisfied with my works; I not only had the encouragement of constant approval, but as conductor of an orchestra I could make experiments, observe what produced an effect and what weakened it, and was thus in a position to improve, alter, make additions or omissions, and be as bold as I pleased; I was cut off from the world, there was no one to confuse or torment me, and I was forced to become original” (p. 353).
Haydn may have been a servant, but after starting his career by making four florins and being promoted by Prince Michael to the salary of 400 florins, he was moving up in the world, and could enjoy the luxury of Esterház without having the expense of its upkeep. If I were Dickens, I would end his story there, with his successful retreat from the wife, fond patronage of Prince Esterhazy, and growing admirers for his music. But I am not Dickens and this was far from the end of Haydn’s remarkable life.
The musicians at Esterház loved “Papa Haydn,” as he came to be called. He was their advocate before the Prince. Once, when the season was prolonged and the musicians wanted to be home with their wives and families, he composed a special symphony which has been subtitled the “Farewell Symphony.” During the symphony, the musicians stop playing and leave the stage one by one, until finally only two are left. The Prince got the point. Another time, the sense of humor Haydn always possessed got the better of him and he composed a “Surprise” symphony, chuckling, “The ladies will scream when I get to the ‘surprise’.” Listen to it yourself and see if he was right. I’ve tipped you off, though, so I doubt you’ll scream! Altogether, Haydn was to write 104 symhonies, many of which have names (“Toy,” “Clock,” Drum Roll,” “Surprise,” “Farewell,” etc.)
Once at Esterház, Haydn forgot himself and fell in love with a singer. She and her husband had been taken into service by the Prince. She managed to get him to sign a paper that said that should his wife die, he would marry her. She seems to have been a pest for awhile, begging him for money and so on. He later repudiated her claims upon him, but he did leave a small sum to her son in his first will, which again, he later revoked. She did leave her husband and marry someone else, but it was not Haydn. At about the same time that he met the singer, Haydn formed a much more fruitful and lasting relationship with Mozart.
Fame arrived at last—not just local, but international fame—and Haydn found himself conducting his symphonies, operas, and masses not only in Austria, but in Paris and London as well. Admiration and respect followed him as he was generous to his colleagues. In 1792, young Beethoven became his pupil.
Haydn was a man with a tremendous work ethic. Any aspiring musician has to respect his fine habit of working for at least three hours on his compositions, every morning. Additionally, he was humble and God-fearing. If his compositions did not reach the emotional depths of Mozart and Beethoven, they did reflect deep feeling, genuine faith, and a love of beauty typical of the Classical composers. Approximately 17 stage works (operas and incidental music for plays) have survived; 104 symphonies, 16 overtures, about 25 concertos for solo instruments, and 85 string quartets. There were also duos and trios, 52 piano sonatas, sonatas for other solo instruments, quintets, solo songs, and a great many sacred works. Of his oratorios, the best known by far is “The Creation,” with “The Seasons” coming in a close second. Haydn even wrote 30 pieces for the musical clock. He simply said, “By dint of hard work, I managed to get on.” And that, for many, is the difference between success and failure.
Haydn lived to the age of 77. Before he died, he saw his own birthplace dedicated as a musical shrine, and received many honors. It is fitting that “The Creation,” the story of Genesis, was one of his last works, and the one which he last saw performed.
(Sources: Grove’s Encyclopedia of Music and Musicians, and Oscar Thompson’s Cyclopedia of Music and Musicians)