“My only misfortune is my country life,” Haydn writes in the spring of 1781, but he could be in Vienna two of the winter months at least, and there it was he found the artist, who more than all others, not excepting even Philip Emanuel Bach, influenced him and helped to raise his fame “to the stars”—Mozart.
Their personal acquaintance first commenced in the spring of 1781, when Mozart came to Vienna and permanently remained there. The letters of Mozart’s father, during the journeys of 1764 and 1768, make no mention of Haydn, and in the summer of 1773, when Mozart passed a short time in Vienna, Haydn as usual was at Esterhaz. Mozart’s own letters however show that even as a boy he knew and admired Haydn. He sent for his Minuets from Italy, and also created a taste for the German Minuet among the Italians. The actual acquaintance between these two artists, so widely apart in years, the true foundation of which both in life and in their works, rested above all upon that cordiality which is so intimate a part of German life, must have brought them very closely together. How Mozart felt towards Haydn, a statement of Griesinger’s shows. Haydn once brought out a new quartet in the presence of Mozart and his old enemy, the Berliner, Leopold Kozeluch, in which some bold changes occurred. “That sounds strange. Would you have written that so?” said Kozeluch to Mozart. “Hardly” was the reply, “but do you know why? Because neither you nor I could have hit upon such an idea.” At another time, when this talentless composer would not cease his fault-finding, Mozart excitedly exclaimed: “Sir, if we were melted down together, we would be far from making a Haydn.”
Association with the circles, in which at this golden time of music in Vienna, Haydn’s compositions were cherished with pleasure and love, and even with actual devotion, by artists and connoisseurs, inspired him to accomplish something of equivalent value. As early as the autumn of 1782, he commenced to write a series of six quartets, and the Italian dedication of them to Haydn is the most beautiful instance of unselfish admiration that can be conceived. It was written in the autumn of 1785, and the translation reads:
My dear friend Haydn:
When a father sends his sons out into the wide world, he should, I think, confide them to the protection and guidance of a highly celebrated man, who by some happy dispensation is also the best among his friends. So to this famous man and most precious friend, to thee, I bring my six sons. They are, it is true, the fruit of long and laborious toil, but the hope which my friends hold out to me leads me to anticipate that these works, a part at least, will compensate me, and it gives me courage and persuades me that some day they will be a source of happiness to me. You, yourself, dearest friend, expressed your satisfaction with them during your last visit to our capital. Your judgment above all inspires me with the wish to offer them to you, and with the hope that they will not seem wholly unworthy of your favor. Take them kindly, and be to them a father, guide and friend. From this moment I resign all right in them to you, and beg you to regard with indulgence the faults which may have escaped the loving eyes of their father, and in spite of them to continue your generous friendship towards one who so highly appreciates it. Meantime I remain with my whole heart, your sincere friend.
W. A. Mozart.
He called Haydn “Papa,” and when some one spoke of his dedication, replied: “That was duty, for I first learned from Haydn how one should write quartets.” How Haydn with his simple modesty always bowed to divinely inspired genius, is shown by a letter from Mozart’s father, of the fourteenth of February of the same year, 1785, which may be found complete in the book: “Mozart, after Sketches by his Cotemporaries,” (Leipsic, 1880). It reads: “On Saturday evening Herr Joseph Haydn was with us. The new quartets were played, which complete the other three we have. They are a little easier but delightfully written. Herr Haydn said to me: ‘I declare to you, before God and upon my honor, your son is the greatest composer with whom I am personally acquainted. He has taste and possesses the most consummate knowledge of composition.’” That was truly an expression of “satisfaction,” and to such a “father” Mozart might well entrust his “children.” He understood their merits and character. “If Mozart had composed nothing else but his quartets and his ‘Requiem’ he would have been immortal,” the Abbe Stadler heard Haydn remark afterwards. During a discussion of the well-known discord in the introduction to the C major quartet, he declared that if Mozart wrote it so, he had some good reason for it. He never neglected an opportunity of hearing Mozart’s music, and declared that he could not listen to one of his works without learning something. Kelly in his Reminiscences, tells of a quartet performance about the year 1786, in which Haydn, Dittersdorf Mozart and Banhall took part—certainly an unprecedented gathering. Dittersdorf, of whose virtuoso playing mention has already been made, must have played the first violin.
In the year 1787, “Don Juan” was brought out in Prague, and as Mozart could not entertain a proposition for a second opera, application was made to Haydn. He wrote from Esterhaz, in December, one of the most beautiful of all his letters. It is contained in Mozart’s Biography: “You desire a comic opera from me,” he says. “Gladly would I furnish it, if you desired one of my vocal compositions for yourself alone, but if it is to be brought out in Prague, I could not serve you, because all my operas are so closely connected with our personal circle at Esterhaz, and they could not produce the proper effect which I calculated in accordance with the locality. It would be different, if I had the inestimable privilege of composing an entirely new work for your theater. Even then, however, the risk would be great, for scarcely any one can bear comparison with the great Mozart. Would that I could impress upon every friend of music, and especially upon great men, the same deep sympathy and appreciation for Mozart’s inimitable works that I feel and enjoy; then, the nations would vie with each other in the possession of such a treasure. Prague should hold fast to such a dear man, and also remunerate him, for without this the history of a great man is sad indeed, and gives little encouragement to posterity for effort. It is for the lack of this, so many promising geniuses are wrecked. It vexes me that this matchless man is not yet engaged by some imperial or royal court. Pardon me if I am excited, for I love the man very dearly.”
The above reproach was superfluous so far as Mozart was concerned, for he had at that time been appointed chamber-composer at the imperial court, though Haydn, being in Eisenstadt, did not know it; but without any doubt the reproach was applicable in another case—that of Haydn himself. The recognition of his special work had as yet made but little progress among the professional musicians, critics and influential circles. His letters are full of protests against this injustice and misfortune, and the statements of Mozart, already quoted, show how just they were. The elegant leaders of Italian fashion and Spanish etiquette were not more likely to encourage a low-born Esterhaz Capellmeister in uncivilized Hungary than they were the national humor, pleasantry and vivacity which had for the first time found proper expression in music, and the liberties which these qualities permitted, contrary to the accepted style, were either not recognized at all, or looked upon as mistakes. It was all the more unfortunate for him that Joseph II was the very embodiment of this foreign manner. The well-known Reichardt, who met the Emperor in Vienna in 1783, relates: “I thought at least in a conversation about Haydn, whom I named with reverence, and whose absence I regretted, we should agree. ‘I thought,’ said the Emperor, ‘you Berlin gentlemen did not care for such trifling. I don’t care much for it, and so it goes pretty hard with the excellent artist.’” This in a measure is confirmed by a conversation between Joseph and Dittersdorf, two years later: “What do you think of his chamber-music?” “That it is making a sensation all over the world, and with good reason.” “Is he not too much addicted to trifling?” “He has the gift of trifling without degrading his art.” “You are right there.”
While such malicious partiality and miscomprehension must have distressed Haydn very much, it secured for him the renewed good opinion of Mozart and recognition of his elevated character, and he did not refrain from giving expression to it. “It was truly touching when he spoke of the two Haydns and other great masters. One would have thought he was listening to one of his scholars rather than to the all-powerful Mozart,” says Niemetscheck, speaking of Mozart’s visit to Prague. Rochlitz also reports the following opinion which Mozart expressed: “No one can play with and profoundly move the feelings, excite to laughter and stir the deepest emotions, each with equal power, like Joseph Haydn.” Such reverence must have given the master the fullest conviction of his artistic power, for who was better qualified to pass such judgment than such a genius? Meanwhile this judgment was confirmed by unprejudiced hearers all over the world. As we learn from Gyrowetz’s Autobiography, a symphony of this young master was played in Paris as a favorite composition in all the theaters and concerts, because it was mistaken for a work of Haydn’s. He also had to specially protect his music from being clandestinely copied and engraved.