There was also that inner something, “the musical nature,” which impelled him and urged him on to his most characteristic creations. “One is seized upon by a conscious mood which will not endure restraint,” he once said. In like manner at another time he made the characteristic remark: “The music plays upon me as if I were a piano.” Apropos of the technical side of music, he characteristically remarked to Dies in 1805: “If an idea struck me as beautiful and satisfactory to the ear and the heart, I would far rather let a grammatical error remain than sacrifice what is beautiful to mere pedantic trifling.”
Finally, that we may point out to the player some instances of this actual life-painting in tones, let us take the well-known Peters’ Edition, which is easily accessible to every one. First of all, among the thirty-four piano sonatas, the one in C sharp minor is a beautiful piece of earnest work and full of character, the Minuet very melancholy and illustrating the national melody of that southern people. No. 5 is the clearest picture of buoyant health. One can see young life at play in the spring-meadows. In No. 7 the music assumes a strange capriciousness, and in the Largo in D minor, notwithstanding it is barely eighteen measures long, shows the grand tragic style of Beethoven, as well as its humor, which recalls the variations in F minor, whose color and rhythm suggest the funeral march in the Eroica. The Adagio of the A flat major sonata, No. 8, is a gem of the intellectual development of all harmonic and contrapuntal means, and in the Larghetto of No. 20, surely all the nightingales of life are deliciously warbling. Both of these are complete lyric scenes. Above all, the first as well as the last sonata of Haydn’s shows a plastic touch, which clearly reveals this master’s natural and artistic feeling, and often fills us with overwhelming astonishment at the power of genius, which in such small limits and with such simple means can utter things that to-day are immediately recognized, wherever feeling exists and is capable of manifesting itself in the comprehension of the mission of human life.
Richer, greater, more inwardly finished, if not always esthetic in the highest sense throughout, this appears in the quartets, and here, above all else, we first discover that Haydn in that style was the forerunner of Mozart and Beethoven alike, and still further, that he was the original source of the success of the later Italians who copied his sprightliness, his thoughtful style, amiability and natural spirit, while the German heroes found their native power and their free mental conception and method in his own inner life, culminating in the matchless melody of Franz Schubert. These spirited first movements, these flowing Finales, these Minuets, these Adagios, full of ever-increasing and exuberant wit, how irresistibly they seize upon one! How their warm affection satisfies! It is, in fact, “Idea, Expression, Melody.” Glance only at the pieces which may be found in the Peters’ Edition: Op. 54, with the highly characteristic Minuet and the Finale, is remarkable in itself for a Presto contained in the Adagio, as well as for being the precursor of the Adagio of Beethoven’s sonata, op. 31, No. 1. The Adagios in op. 74, op. 76 and op. 77, are still grander in tone, but not more beautiful or fervent than those of op. 54 and op. 64. The Adagio in op. 103 has in its concluding measures somewhat of the blessed and elevated nature of the close of that most beautiful of all soul-poems which pure music has created,—the Lento of op. 135, Beethoven’s grave-song. We need not mention the symphonies, those well-known works of Haydn. Everywhere in his music we meet what Goethe calls the absolute source of all life—“Idea and Love.”
We have seen that isolation enriched and prospered Haydn. We arrive now at a period when by his intimate personal association with Mozart, and his entrance into the great changing outer world, he was destined to develop his genius to its fullest extent.
CHAPTER III.
THE FIRST LONDON JOURNEY.
1781-1792.
A Winter Adventure—The Relations of Mozart and Haydn—Mozart’s Dedication—The Emperor Joseph’s Opinions—Letters to Frau von Genzinger—A Catalogue of Complaints—His Engagement with Salomon—The London Journey—Scenes on the Way—A Brilliant Reception—Rivalry of the Professional Concerts—The Händel Festival—Honors at Oxford—Pleyel’s Arrival—Royal Honors—His Benefit Concert—Return to Vienna.
“I am already at home in Vienna by my few works, and if the composer is not there his children always are in all the concerts,” replied Haydn to that Charity for artists’ widows, which wished to elect him as a “foreigner,” upon such severe conditions. We meet with a characteristic instance of this popularity about the year 1770, when he once, as was his habit, went to Vienna on business.
It was winter. Over his somewhat shabby garments he had thrown a fur cloak, whose age was also conspicuous. An uncombed wig and an old hat completed his costume. Haydn, so great a friend of neatness, on this occasion would hardly have been recognized. He looked like a masquerader, when he entered Vienna. At the residence of a Count in Karnthner Street he heard the music of one of his own symphonies. The orchestra was powerful, the players good. “Stop, coachman, stop.” Haydn sprang out of the carriage, hurried up to the house, ascended the steps, entered the vestibule and listened quietly at the door. A servant approached, surveyed the strange apparition from head to foot, and at last thundered out: “What are you doing here, sir?” “I would like to listen a little.” “This is no place for listening; go about your business.” Haydn pretended not to hear the abuse. The servant at last seized him by the cloak with the words: “You have heard enough, now pack off or I will pitch you out doors.” Haydn handed him a couple of Kreuzer pieces. As soon as the Allegro was finished the servant again urged him to go. Haydn wanted to hear the Adagio, and was searching his pocket anew, when by chance the door was opened, and he was recognized by one of the players. In an instant the hall resounded with a loud greeting. “Haydn, Haydn,” was on every lip! The doors were thrown open and more than twenty persons surrounded the revered master and bore him into the salon, a part of them greeting him as an acquaintance and the rest seeking an introduction. In the midst of the loud acclamation, a shrill voice above them cried out: “That is not Haydn; it is impossible. Haydn must be larger, handsomer and stronger, not such a little insignificant man as that one there in the circle.” Universal laughter ensued. Haydn, more astonished than any of the rest, looked about him to see who had disputed his identity. It was an Italian Abbe who had heard of Haydn and admired him very much. He had mounted a table in order to see him. The universal laughter only ended with the commencement of the Adagio but Haydn remained until the close of the symphony.