I.
In a small and insignificant dwelling in the village of Rohrau, on the borders of Hungary and Austria, lived, at the beginning of the last century, a young pair, faithful and industrious, plain and simple in their manners, yet esteemed by all their neighbors. The man, an honest wheelwright, was commonly called “merry Jobst,” on account of the jokes and gay stories with which he was always ready to entertain his friends and visitors, who, he well knew, relished such things. His wife was named Elizabeth, but no one in the village, and indeed many miles round it, ever called her any thing but “pretty Elschen.” Jobst and Elschen were indeed, to say truth, the handsomest couple in the country.
The Hungarians, like the Austrians and Bohemians, have great love for music. “Three fiddles and a dulcimer for two houses,” says the proverb; and it is a true one. It is not unusual, therefore, for some out of the poorer classes, when their regular business fails to bring them in sufficient for their wants, to take to the fiddle, the dulcimer, or the harp; playing on holidays on the highway or in the taverns. This employment is generally lucrative enough, if they are not spendthrifts, to enable them, not only to live, but to lay by something for future necessities.
“Merry Jobst” was already revolving in his own mind some means to be adopted for the bettering of his very humble fortunes, when Elschen one day said to him, “Jobst! it is time to think of making something more for our increasing family!” Jobst gave a leap of joy, embraced pretty Elschen, and answered, “Come then! I will string anew my fiddle and your harp; every holiday we will take our place on the road side before the tavern, and play and sing merrily: we will give good wishes to those that listen to and reward us, and let the surly traveller, who stops not to hear us, go on his way!”
The next Sunday afternoon merry Jobst and pretty Elschen sat by the highway before the village inn; Jobst fiddled, and Elschen played the harp and sang to it with her sweet clear voice. Not one passed by without noticing them; every traveller stopped to listen, well pleased, and on resuming his journey threw at least a silver twopence into the lap of the pretty young woman. Jobst and his wife, on returning home in the evening, found their day’s work a good one.—They practised it regularly with the like success.
After the lapse of a few years, as the old cantor of the neighboring town of Haimburg passed along the road one afternoon, he could not help stopping, admiring and amused at what he saw. In the same arbor, opposite the tavern, sat merry Jobst fiddling as before, and beside him pretty Elschen, playing the harp and singing; and between them, on the ground, sat a little chubby-faced boy about three years old, who had a small board, shaped like a violin, hung about his neck, on which he played with a willow twig as with a genuine fiddle-bow. The most comical and surprising thing of all was, that the little man kept perfect time, pausing when his father paused and his mother had solo, then falling in with him again, and demeaning himself exactly like his father. Often too, he would lift up his clear voice, and join distinctly in the refrain of the song. The song pretty Elschen sang, ran somewhat in this way:
“The Spring it is come—and the blithe earth is green,
Birds and flowers are abroad, and how glistening the sheen!
O’er the broken stones sparkling, the stream murmurs nigh,
And how fresh from the mountains the breezes sweep by.
“The bees hum around us, the lambs frolic too,
And golden clouds sport in the heavens’ deep blue!
The young mountain shepherd, his shawm he hath wound,
And the maiden steps softly, and follows the sound.
“The bell in yon valley breaks faint on the air,
Stranger! haste not away! pause and breathe first a prayer,
And give thanks to our Maker, on whom good men call—
Who created in love, and sustaineth us all.”
“Is that your boy—fiddler?” asked the teacher, when the song was at an end. Jobst answered,
“Yes, sir, that is my little Seperl.”[3]
“The little fellow seems to have a taste for music.”
“Why not? if it depends on me, I will take him, as soon as I can do so, to one who understands it well, and can teach him. But it will be some time yet, as with all his taste and love for it, he is very little and awkward.”
“We will speak further of it,” said the teacher, and went his way. Jobst and Elschen began their song anew, and the little Joseph imitated his father on his fiddle, and joined his infant voice with theirs when they sounded the ‘Hallelujah!’
The cantor came from this time twice a week to the house of merry Jobst to talk with him about his little son, and the youngster himself was soon the best of friends with the good-natured old man. So matters went on for two years, at the end of which, the cantor said to Jobst, “It is now the right time, and if you will trust your boy with me, I will take him, and teach him what he must learn, to become a brave lad and a skilful musician.”
Jobst did not hesitate long, for he saw clearly how great an advantage the instruction of Master Wolferl would be to his son. And though it went harder with pretty Elschen to part with Seperl, who was her favorite and only child, yet she gave up at last, when her husband observed—“The boy is still our own, and if he is our only child, we are—Heaven be praised!—both young, and love each other!”
So he said to Wolferl, the next time he came—“Agreed! here is the boy! treat him well—and remember that he is the apple of our eye.”
“I will treat him as my own!” replied the teacher. Elschen accordingly packed up the boy’s scanty wardrobe in a bundle, gave him a slice of bread and salt, and a cup of milk—embraced and blessed him, and accompanied him to the door of the cottage, where she signed him with the cross three times, and then returned to her chamber. Jobst went with them half the way to Haimburg, and then also returned, while Wolferl and Joseph pursued their way till they reached Wolferl’s house, the end of their journey.
Wolferl was an old bachelor, but one of the good sort, whose heart, despite his grey hairs, was still youthful and warm. He loved all good men, and was patient and forbearing even with those who had faults, for he knew how weak and fickle too often is the heart of man. But the wholly depraved and wicked he hated, as he esteemed the good, and shunned all companionship with them; for it was his opinion “that he who is thoroughly corrupt, remains so in this world at least; and his conversation with the good tends not to his improvement, but on the contrary, to the destruction of both.”
Such lessons he repeated daily to the little Joseph, and taught him good principles, as well as how to sing, and play on the horn and kettledrum; and Joseph profited thereby, as well as by the instruction he received in music, and cherished and cultivated them as long as he lived.
In the following year, 1737, a second son was bestowed on the happy parents, whom they christened Michael.
Years passed, and Joseph was a well instructed boy; he had a voice as clear and fine as his mother’s, and played the violin as well as his father; besides that, he blew the horn, and beat the kettledrum, in the sacred music prepared by Wolferl for church festivals. Better than all, Joseph had a true and honest heart, had the fear of God continually before his eyes, and was ever contented, and wished well to all; for which everybody loved him in return, and Wolferl often said with tears of joy—“Mark what I tell you, God will show the world, by this boy Joseph, that not only the kingdom of heaven, but the kingdom of the science of music shall be given to those who are pure in heart!” The more Wolferl perceived the lad’s wonderful talent for art, the more earnestly he sought to find a patron, who might better forward the youthful aspirant towards the desired goal; for he felt that his own strength could reach little further, when he saw the zeal and ability with which his pupil devoted himself to his studies. Providence ordered it at length that Master von Reuter, chapel-master and music director in St. Stephen’s Church, Vienna, came to visit the Deacon at Haimburg. The Deacon told Master von Reuter of the extraordinary boy, the son of the wheelwright Jobst Haydn, the pupil of old Wolferl, and created in the chapel-master much desire to become acquainted with him.—The Deacon would have sent for him and his protector, but von Reuter prevented him with “No—no—most reverend Sir! I will not have the lad brought to me; I will seek him myself, and if possible, hear him when he is not conscious of my presence or my intentions; for if I find the boy what your reverence thinks him, I will do something, of course, to advance his interests.” The next morning, accordingly, von Reuter went to Wolferl’s house, which he entered quietly and unannounced. Joseph was sitting alone at the organ, playing a simple but sublime piece of sacred music from an old German master. Reuter, visibly moved, stood at the door and listened attentively. The boy was so deep in his music that he did not perceive the intruder till the piece was concluded, when accidentally turning round, he fixed upon the stranger his large dark eyes, expressive of astonishment indeed, but sparkling a friendly welcome.
“Very well, my son!” said von Reuter at last; “where is your foster-father?”
“In the garden,” said the boy; “shall I call him?”
“Call him, and say to him that the chapel-master, von Reuter, wishes to speak with him. Stop a moment! you are Joseph Haydn; are you not?”
“Yes, I am Seperl.”
“Well then, go.”
Joseph went and brought his old master, Wolferl, who with uncovered head and low obeisance welcomed the chapel-master and music director at Saint Stephen’s, to his humble abode. Von Reuter, on his part, praised the musical skill of his protegé, enquired particularly into the lad’s attainments, and examined him formally himself. Joseph passed the examination in such a manner that Reuter’s satisfaction increased with every answer. After this he spent some time in close conference with old Wolferl; and it was near noon before he took his departure. Joseph was invited to accompany him and spend the rest of the day at the Deacon’s.
Eight days after, old Wolferl, Jobst and pretty Elschen, the little Michael on her lap, sat very dejectedly together, and talked of the good Joseph, who had gone that morning with Master von Reuter to Vienna, to take his place as chorister in St. Stephen’s church.