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We now resume the course of our narrative. Dies says: "Six months passed by before Count Morzin knew that his Capellmeister was married. Circumstances occurred which changed Haydn's affairs. It became necessary for the Count to reduce his large expenses and to dismiss his musicians, and thus he lost his position." Prince Esterhazy, however, a short time before, had become acquainted with some of his orchestral pieces and admired them. His growing fame, his admirable personal character, besides Morzin's hearty commendations, secured for him the position of Capellmeister to the Prince in the same year , and he held it nearly to the close of his life. This position settled Haydn's future as a composer.

Rarely, indeed, has a hope been more fully realized. The orchestra was soon a superior one, and it was not long before the works written for it by Haydn became famous throughout the world. The very first of the Esterhazy symphonies in C major, known as "The Noon," showed that he was determined to bring the Prince as well as the orchestra to a realization of the work before them. It makes demands upon the orchestra which this one could not supply till much later, as it was written in a very large and broad style. It also has in it a foreshadowing of Beethoven's dramatic style, in a recitative for violin with orchestra, introduced in one movement. He himself was also more thoroughly grounded in his own artistic work. The ever-increasing interest which the Prince took in him was a fresh incentive to his creative talent, so that the confinement in his rural situation during the twenty years that he passed with the first two Princes did not weigh very heavily upon him. After 1766, he spent many of the winter months with his Prince in Vienna. "My Prince was always satisfied with my works. I not only had the encouragement of steady approbation, but as leader of the orchestra, I could experiment, observe what produced and what weakened effects, and was thus enabled to improve, change, make additions or omissions, and venture upon anything. I was separated from the world, there was no one to distract or torment me, and I was compelled to become original." Such a statement as this, which was made to Griesinger, shows what an important influence his life at this period had upon his artistic development.

There are many other interesting details of this Esterhazy life. Griesinger says: "Fishing and hunting were Haydn's favorite pleasures during his stay in Hungary." Think for a moment what an influence such an unbroken, restful life in God's free nature must have had upon him, especially when it is considered that this had continued for thirty years and had been his only recreation outside of his own profession. "The dew-dropping morn, O how it quickens all," says Eve in "The Creation." In the early morning, the best time for his favorite pleasure, when the sun rose, shining in its full splendor, "a giant proud and joyous," or at evening the moon "stole upon" the home-returning hunter with "soft step and gentle shimmer," how his heart must have expanded as the sublime solitude of Nature revealed itself to him and spoke its own language! It was a time when the sense of nature rose superior to all the artifices of custom, and her majesty and chaste purity made a deep impression upon every noble feeling. In this sacred solitude, which with his beloved art filled his life with its only happiness and contentment, he stripped off his powdered wig and stood up clothed in his own pure manhood. What the result was may be seen in his exuberant melodies, earnest as well as passionate, which picture the innocent joy of Nature.

Many other things he learned to picture at this time. It was only that free and appreciative contemplation of Nature, which continual intimate intercourse with her produces, which enabled him to keenly observe the characteristics of every one of her phenomena and to give them conscious expression in his old age, in "The Creation" and "The Seasons." The "Noon" symphony was soon followed by the "Morning." That he intended to express in this music the "awakening of impressions upon arriving in the country," is shown by a concerto which appeared soon afterward, "The Evening," and which closes with a storm. According to Dies, his Prince had commissioned him to make the divisions of the day subjects for composition. We know by their reception that these works revealed an entirely new world of music. Beethoven, with his incomparably deeper feeling for Nature, received his first impulses of that feeling from this music. The original can only be found in Haydn's quiet life at Eisenstadt with Prince Esterhazy. We shall find further confirmation of the influence of this life in the following details:

The bearing of Prince Nicholas, then in his fortieth year, corresponded with his surroundings. Rich and distinguished as he was, he had noble passions. His appearance at Court was brilliant, while the richness of his jewels was proverbial. But his love of art and science was far greater than his fondness for show and court display, and in true Hungarian fashion, music was the dearest of all to him. He was a genuine Austrian cavalier of the best old times. Goodness of heart, magnanimity and kindly feeling were his prominent traits of character, and he manifested these qualities especially toward his orchestra. "During the entire period of his rule, his records, nearly all of which begin with the declaration, 'God be with us,' are a continuous series of releases from moneyed as well as other obligations, and rarely was a request refused," says Pohl, in his reliable biography of Haydn. Still he could be severe without retaining animosity. His own instrument was the baryton, at that time very much admired, which has long since been superseded by the noble violoncello. Apropos of this instrument, the following characteristic event occurred:

The Prince played only in one key. Haydn practiced for six months, day and night, upon the instrument, often disturbed by the abuse of his wife, and upon one occasion incurred the censure of the Prince for neglecting his compositions. Thereat, impelled by a fit of vanity, he played upon the instrument at one of the evening entertainments in several keys. The Prince was not at all disturbed, and only said: "Haydn, you ought to have known better." At first he was pained by the indifference of his honored master, but he immediately felt it was a gentle reproof, because he had wasted so much time and neglected his proper work to become a good baryton player, and turned to his compositions again with renewed earnestness. For the baryton alone, he has written upwards of one hundred and seventy-five pieces.

With the orchestra itself, which numbered many excellent players, Haydn had trouble many a time. The easy lenity of the Prince made it careless, and what the habits of musicians were at that time Mozart's biography shows. "The appeals of Haydn are touching and heart-reaching when he intercedes for those who have erred only through carelessness," says Pohl. He also helped to appease the Prince with specially arranged compositions. To these probably belongs the symphony in five movements, called "Le Midi," with a recitative for the first violinist, Tomasini, who was a special favorite of the Prince--a proof that the images of his fancy were already influencing him, and that, like Gluck, he was determined not to be "a mason," but an "architect." That he put his whole soul into these compositions is shown by the inscriptions at the beginning and end--"In nomine Domini," "Laus Deo," etc.

Haydn had also transferred to the richer string quartet and full orchestra, the sonata-form founded by Philip Emanuel Bach, the organic character of which is shown by the theory and history of music. How he developed this form in its final perfection it is not necessary to consider in detail at this time. He established, as we know, its four-part form in the Allegro, Adagio, Minuet and Finale, and by his great productivity and popularity brought this form into universal use. He was the first to give to the Minuet, which is attractive in itself, a popular, genial, and above all, a cheerful, humorous spirit. He very materially broadened, arranged and elevated the first movement of the sonata-form, gave to it more fullness and meaning through the organic development of its own motive substance, deepened the Adagio from a simple song , to a completely satisfying tone-picture, and above all, by thematic treatment, produced in the Finale the veritable wonders of the mind and of life. That Haydn greatly heightened the effect of the symphony by giving to the various instruments their full development is apparent at once in his music, and yet it should not be forgotten that Mozart, who had studied the performances of the orchestras at Mannheim and Paris, also influenced him, above all in his operas. But the crowning result of Haydn's work will always remain the germ of active life which he imparted to this form, and which he developed so freely that it presented a definite and finished shape. Haydn first gave the quartet and symphony that style which may be called its own.

Philip Emanuel Bach's "Sonatas for Students and Amateurs," always have something which may be called studied about them. They are thoughtful and considered, above all skillful and intellectual; but the free expression of feeling only appears at intervals, especially in the Adagio where Bach could depend for his effect upon the operatic aria and the feeling of the original German Lied. The great Sebastian Bach's instrumental works are cyclopean structures, pelasgic monuments, often the elementary mountains themselves. Many a time there looks out of the stone, as it were, a visage, but it is a stony-face, like that on the Loreley or the romantic Brocken--apparition: "And the long rocky noses, how they snore, how they blow." They are stone giant-bodies, mighty Sphynx-images, which conceal more than they tell. In the sharpest contrast with this music was the opera of that time, in which fashionable puppets affected an outward, stilted appearance of dramatic activity. Gluck first stripped off the gaudy tinsel and revealed the concealed earnestness of the reality. The instrumental music of the French and Italians suffered also from this affectation and superficiality of the theatrical music, and Scarlatti, Corelli and Couperin made the utmost effort to restore the free expression of feeling and unrestrained nature to their own place in music.

He who first revealed this "natural," this inborn, and therefore spontaneous art, in music, speaking through its own nature and with its own voice, was our Haydn, and it was for this that Beethoven called him great and posterity has called him immortal. And, as the Italians say, that no man can paint a more beautiful head than he has himself, so, though we have seen this Haydn physically and intellectually, what matters it, if his portrait appears to us reversed in his music?

Haydn was slender but strong, and below the medium height, with legs disproportionately short, and seeming all the shorter, owing to his old-fashioned style of dress. His features were tolerably regular, his face serious and expressive, but at the same time attractive for its benignity. "Kindliness and gentle earnestness showed themselves in his person and bearing," says Griesinger. When he was in earnest, his countenance was dignified, and in pleasant conversation he had a laughing expression, though Dies says he never heard him laugh aloud. His large aquiline nose, disfigured by a polypus, was, like the rest of his face, deeply pitted by smallpox, so that the nostrils were differently shaped. The under lip, which was strong and somewhat coarse, was very prominent. His complexion was very brown. One of his biographical sketches mentions that he was called a Moor. He considered himself ugly, and mentioned two Princes who could not endure his appearance, because he seemed deformed to them. He stuck to his wig, which has been already mentioned, in spite of all the changing modes, through two generations, even to his death, but it concealed, to the disadvantage of the general expression of his physiognomy, a large part of his broad and finely developed forehead. Lavater, looking at his silhouette, said: "I see something more than common in his nose and eyebrows. The forehead also is good. The mouth has something of the Philistine about it."

"There was great joyousness and mirth in his character," says Dies, and in his old age he said himself: "Life is a charming affair." Joy in life was the fundamental characteristic of his existence and his compositions. His individual lot and his satisfaction with common things contributed to this. "Contentment is happiness," says the philosopher. The unvarying simplicity of his life secured him the luxury of good health, and next to that, the feeling of joy in living. But in reality it is not this life-joyousness alone that is reflected in his works. Though the influence of his outward life and of his inner development were conducive to quiet reflection and earnest thought, he preferred to give a sprightly turn to conversation. We have already learned how deep were his personal attachments and gratitude. He was also very beneficent and kindly disposed. "Haydn's humanity was exhibited to the high and low," Dies once said, and modesty was his simple Austrian virtue. Griesinger justly attributes religion as the basis of all these qualities, which with him was the simple piety of the heart--not a mere passing impulse, but the All and the Eternal reflected in him. The result of this beautiful influence upon him was that he was never imperious or haughty, notwithstanding all the fame that was so profusely showered upon him during his life. "Honor and fame were the two powerful elements that controlled him, but I have never known an instance," says Dies, "where they degenerated into immoderate ambition." He regarded his talent as a blessed gift from Heaven, and no one was more ready to give new comers their just deserts. He always spoke of Gluck and Handel with the most grateful reverence, just as he did of Philip Emanuel Bach. Of his incomparably beautiful relations with Mozart we shall soon learn. Nevertheless he was not ignorant of his own worth. "I believe I have done my duty, and that the world has been benefited by my works. Let others do the same," he used to say. He could not endure personal flattery and when it was offered would resent it. He never allowed his goodness to be abused and if it were attempted he would grow irritated and satirical.

"A harmless waggishness, or what the English call humor, was a leading trait in Haydn's character. He delighted in discovering the comical side of things, and after spending an hour with him you could not help observing that he was full of the spirit of the Austrian national cheerfulness," says Griesinger. We may well conceive that in his younger days he was very susceptible to love, and in his old age he always had compliments for the ladies; but we must understand his remark that "this is a part of my business," in the same sense that Goethe's "Elegie Amor" is "stuff for song," and the "higher style" to the romantic poets. In fact, without some such personal inspiration, like the ever-glowing and universal fire that animates humanity, many of his pieces, especially his adagios, can not be understood. "It has a deep meaning; it is rather difficult, but full of feeling," he once said of a sonata, to his highly esteemed friend, Frau von Genzinger, whom we shall soon meet. It is the one, according to all the indications, which the letters give, whose Adagio Cantabile is in B sharp major, 3/4, and has in the second part a grand and mystical modulation, with shifting of melody in the treble and bass by means of the crossed hands. The first Allegro is also constructed like a quiet conversation between a male and female voice. "I had so much to say to Your Grace and so much to confess, from which no one but Your Grace could absolve me," he writes. He begs that he may call her a friend "for ever," and the Minuet, which she had asked of him in a letter a short time before, wonderfully expresses the request.

At a later period in London, he took an English singer, Miss Billington, under his protection, whose conduct was not highly regarded and had even been severely criticised in the public press. "It is said that her character is faulty, but in spite of all this, she is a great genius, though hated by all the women because she is handsome," he writes in his diary. The diary also contains letters from an English widow, Madame Schroter, who loved him devotedly. "She was still a beautiful and attractive woman, though over sixty, and had I been free, I should certainly have married her," he said upon one occasion to Dies, with his peculiar roguish laugh. A single extract from these tender letters is enough for us to understand the depth of her devotion: "My dearest Haydn, I feel for you the deepest and warmest love of which the human heart is capable." Unless it has something to feed upon, however, the hottest fire will be extinguished. He could not comprehend in his later life, how so many beautiful women had fallen in love with him. "My beauty could not have attracted them," he said in 1805, to Dies, and when the latter replied, "you have a certain genial something in your face," he answered: "One may see that I am on good terms with every one." "He did not fancy that he was made of any better material, nor did he seek, through assumed purity, to place himself on any higher plane of morality than his own opinion justified," explains Dies. He was the unaffected child of his Austrian home in a time when one seemed still to wander in Paradise and life had no thorns.

Thus, from every point of view, Joseph Haydn stands before us an original, well defined personality, passing, as his life-long bearing shows us, from an artificial and unnatural time in every way, to a period of the renewed free assertion of individuality and its involuntary expression of feeling. He tells us with the utmost naivete, that it was not composition but inclination and enthusiasm that had been his inspiration. "Haydn always sketched out his works at the piano," says Griesinger. "I seated myself and began to compose," says Haydn, "whatever my mood suggested, sad or joyous, earnest or trifling. As soon as I seized upon an idea, I used my utmost efforts to develop and hold it fast in conformity with every rule of the art. The reason why so many composers fail is that they string fragments together. They break off almost as soon as they have commenced, and nothing is left to make an impression upon the heart." He always wrote, impelled by inspiration, but at first only the outlines of the whole. That it was this poetico-musical impulse that urged him on, is shown by the following anecdote:

"About the year 1770, Haydn was prostrated with a burning fever, and his physician had expressly forbidden him to do any musical work during his convalescence," says Griesinger. "His wife shortly afterward went to church one day, leaving strict instructions with the servant about the doctor's orders. Scarcely had she gone, when he sent the servant away upon some errand, and hurriedly rushed to the piano. At the very first touch the idea of a whole sonata presented itself in his mind, and the first part was finished while his wife was at church. When he heard her coming back he quickly threw himself into bed again and composed the rest of the sonata there. Mozart and Beethoven certainly did not at first need the piano in composing, and it is by no means certain that Haydn also did not find that first movement in bed. In any case, the anecdote shows the simple, artistic, involuntary power that moved him."

From the same source also proceeded the vital personal impulse of his joyous expression, and the individual physiognomy of the themes and motives in his compositions. His melody throughout reminds one of the aria, not in the affected rococo style of Louis Fourteenth's time, but based upon grammatical declamation; and it is only a certain regularly recurring pattern of the melody that makes us feel it belongs to the very time in which he was living. The separate parts of the sonata-form were infused with a stronger vitality by this virile humor and elevated and refined feeling. In this connection Griesinger's remark is specially pertinent. "This humor is extremely striking in his compositions, and this is specially characteristic of his Allegros and Finales, which playfully keep the listener alternating from what has the appearance of seriousness to the highest style of humor, until it reaches unrestrained joyousness." Dies calls it "popular and refined, but in the highest sense, original musical wit." This musical frolicsomeness opened in reality a new and richly profitable province for art. It aroused a spirit which had hitherto slumbered, and from Mozart and Beethoven, even to Schumann and Wagner, we find this simplest soul-voice and these wonderfully expressive tones, ravishing and at the same time sorrowful in their nature, springing up; for the basis of this voice is the involuntary but deep feeling for human life, sorrowing with its sorrow, merry with its folly, and always intimately associated with all human actions.

Haydn himself attributes to this state of mind many features of his Adagios as well as of his Minuets and Finales. The increasing intellectual progress brought in time "ideas which swept through his mind and which he strove to express in the language of tones." He himself told Griesinger that in his symphonies he often pictured "moral attributes." In one of the oldest the prominent idea was that God spoke to a hardened sinner, beseeching him to repent, but the careless sinner gave no heed to the admonition. A symphony of the year 1767 is called "The Philosopher;" a divertimento, "The Beloved Schoolmaster;" and another work of a later period, "The Distracted One."

An anecdote of the year 1772 shows us a characteristic illustration of this artistic life-work. After the year 1766 the Prince made a summer-residence of the castle at Esterhaz, on the Neusiedler-See, where he remained fully half the year, accompanied by the best of his musicians. "I was at that time young and lively, and consequently not any better off than the others," said Haydn with a laugh, especially in reference to the longing of his musicians to go home to their wives and children. "The Prince must have known of their very natural home-sickness for some time, and the ludicrous appearance they presented when he announced to them that he had suddenly decided to remain there two months longer, amused him very much," says Dies. The order plunged the young men into despair. They besieged the Capellmeister, and no one sympathized with them more than Haydn. Should he present a petition? That would only expose them to laughter. He put a multitude of similar questions to himself, but without answer. What did he do? Not many evenings after, the Prince was surprised in a very extraordinary manner. Right in the midst of some passionate music one instrument ceased, the player noiselessly folded up his music, put out his light and went away. Soon a second finished and went off also; a third and fourth followed, all extinguishing their lights and taking their instruments away. The orchestra grew smaller and more indistinct. The Prince and all present sat in silent wonder. Finally the last but one extinguished his light, and then Haydn took his and went also. Only the first violinist remained. Haydn had purposely selected this one, as his playing was very pleasing to the Prince and therefore he would be constrained to wait to the end. The end came. The last light was extinguished and even Tomasini disappeared. Then the Prince arose and said, "If all go, we may as well go too." The players meanwhile had collected in the ante-room, and the Prince said smiling, "Haydn, the gentlemen have my consent to go to-morrow." It was the composition which afterward became well known under the name of "The Surprise Symphony."

We close with a selection of characteristic expressions made by Haydn in these earlier years of his work, about his art and artistic progress, most of which are to be found in the "Musical Letters."

In the year 1776, he says in that autobiography which was requested of him for a "Learned National Society" in Vienna, that in chamber-music he has had the good fortune to please almost all people except the Berliners. His only wonder was that "these judicious Berlin gentlemen" kept no medium in their criticisms, at one time elevating him to the stars, and at another "burying him seventy fathoms deep in the earth," and this without any good reason. But he knew the source of all these attacks upon his artistic work.

This was in the year 1779. It marks the full development of his artistic consciousness. He was more and more convinced of the lofty mission of an art which has its source in such creations. In the year 1781, he expressed the wish to have the opinion of the Councilor Von Greiner, one of the most distinguished connoisseurs in Vienna, often mentioned in Mozart's biographies, with regard to the expression of his songs, and assures his publisher, Artaria, that for variety, beauty and simplicity, they excel any other he has written. The French admired exceedingly the pleasing melody of his "Stabat Mater," work of that kind not having been heard in Paris, and very rarely indeed in Vienna. This is all the more remarkable, as Gluck at that time had already written and brought out his great dramatic works collectively. Some of his songs had been "wretchedly" set to music by the Vienna Capellmeister Hoffmann, Haydn goes on to relate, and as this swaggerer believed that he alone had scaled Parnassus, and sought to crush Haydn down in certain circles of the great world, he had set the same songs to show this pretended great world the difference. "They are only songs, but not Hoffmannish street-songs, without ideas, expression, and above all, melody," he closes. We can no longer doubt from this that he would not suffer his creations to be despoiled of their spiritually-poetic nature. He would not allow his songs to be sung by any one until he himself had brought them out in the concert-room. "The master must maintain his rights by his own presence and correct performance," says he. It is this distinctive nature and form of modern music which is fully revealed for the first time in Mozart and Beethoven, and music which has been created by the intellect can only be properly judged by the intellect.

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.

THE FIRST LONDON JOURNEY.

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 H?ndel 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.

"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," . 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.

It is not surprising therefore to hear him say at the close of a letter in 1787, in which he offers a London publisher the "Seven Words," six "splendid" symphonies, and three "very elegant" nocturnes: "I hope to see you by the close of this year, as I have not yet received any reply from Herr Cramer as to an engagement for myself this winter in Naples." The London invitation concerned the so-called professional concerts. A year afterward, J. P. Salomon contracted with him for concert-engagements in the Haymarket theater. Mozart writes to his father in 1783 as follows: "I know positively that Hofstetter has twice copied Haydn's music," and Haydn himself in 1787 writes to Artaria: "Your own copyist is a rascal, for he offered mine eight ducats this winter to let him have the 'Seven Words.'" He justly complains that he is not paid sufficiently for his works, and on one occasion thanks Artaria "without end for the unexpected twelve ducats." "I have until now kept it from my readers that Haydn declared on the occasion of my first visit to him he had been in straightened circumstances to his sixtieth year," says Dies, and he adds that in spite of all his economy and the generosity of Prince Nicholas at his death, and thirty years of hard toil, his entire property consisted of a small house and five hundred florins in gold. Besides this he had about two thousand florins in public funds which he had laid aside against a time of need. Dies rightly attributes such penury after such industry to the extravagance of his wife. But notwithstanding the Esterhazy goodness, the fact remains that Haydn often found himself longing for a change. It mattered little that he had equal fame with Gluck and Mozart. Such a Prince should have kept the purse of a man of such sensitive and exalted feeling well filled.

"My greatest ambition is to be recognized by all the world as the honest man which I really am," he writes about the year 1776, and dedicates all the praises he had received "to Almighty God, for to Him alone are they due." His wish was neither to offend his neighbor nor his gracious Prince, and above all, the merciful God. Now that he realized the beautiful divine pleasure of reverence, and that his unworthy situation with its constant restrictions and distress pressed upon his artistic feeling, he longed for a change more ardently than ever. "I had a good Prince, but at times had to be dependent on base souls; I often sighed for release," he writes from London in 1791. His determination to accept the London invitation must have been very strong, for a letter of 1781 closes: "Meanwhile I thank you very much for the lodgings offered me." His gratitude actually prevented him from traveling, though he was literally besieged by his friends, and, as we have seen, was invited from abroad. "He swore to the Prince to serve him until death should separate them and not to forsake him though he were offered millions," Dies heard him say. The Prince in times of pressing necessity allowed him to draw upon his credit, but Haydn availed himself of this privilege as seldom as possible, and was always satisfied with small sums.

Among impressions so varied in their nature, the letters were written which belong to the following year and from which we must present a few short extracts. They are addressed to Frau von Genzinger in Vienna, the wife of a physician who was also physician in ordinary to Prince Esterhazy. She was very intimate with our master in his later years, for she had made his friendship in connection with his art, having arranged symphonies of his for the piano. In reading these letters, one truly feels the noble aspirations of Haydn's soul. The influence which this excellent lady had upon the poetical character of his works is evident in the beautiful sonata whose Adagio "meant so much." Here indeed vibrate accords as full of life and longing as music was capable of expressing at that time in her soft measures.

In the house of this "ladies' doctor," as he was universally called in Vienna, Mozart, Dittersdorf, Albrechtsberger, afterward Beethoven's teacher, and Haydn, when he was in Vienna, met regularly on Sundays, and it must have been doubly painful to him to go back to his wretched solitude from these delightful gatherings where he could sit near her ladyship and hear the masterpieces of Mozart played. Alas! the separation came sooner than Haydn wished. "The sudden resolution of my Prince to withdraw from Vienna, which is hateful to him, is the cause of my precipitate journey to Esterhaz," he writes in 1789. In contrast with the other magnates, who were fond of displaying their splendor and gratifying their tastes, and nowhere was this so true as in Vienna, Prince Nicholas with his increasing years grew more and more unpopular in that city. Haydn himself gives the most forcible expression to his dissatisfaction with his surroundings.

The address: "High and nobly born, highly esteemed, best of all, Frau von Genzinger," shows us the style of the time, and the following letter of February 9, 1790, tells us the whole story:

"Here I sit in my wilderness, deserted like a poor orphan, almost without human society, sad, full of the recollections of past happy days, yes, past, alas! And who can say when those delightful days will return--those pleasant gatherings, when the whole circle were of one heart and soul--all those charming musical evenings which can only be imagined, not described? Where are all those inspired moments? All are gone, and gone for a long time," he writes, and it was only his native cheerfulness that could allay this feeling of loneliness. "Wonder not, dear lady, that I have delayed so long in writing my gratitude. I found everything at home torn up. For three days I was uncertain whether I was Capellmeister or Capell-servant. Nothing consoled me. My entire apartment was in confusion. My piano, which I love so much, was inconstant and disobedient, and it vexed instead of tranquilizing me. I could sleep but little, my dreams troubled me so. When I dreamed of hearing 'The Marriage of Figaro,' a fatal north-wind awoke me and almost blew my night-cap off my head." In his next remarks we learn of a composition, about which he had written a short time before to his publisher, saying that he had in his leisure hours composed a new capriccio for the piano, which by its taste, originality and close finish would be sure to receive universal applause. "I became three pounds thinner on the way," he continues, "because of the loss of my good Vienna fare. Alas, thought I to myself, when in my restaurant I had to eat a piece of fifty-year-old cow instead of fine beef, an old sheep and yellow carrots instead of a ragout and meat balls, a leathery grill instead of a Bohemian pheasant! alas, alas, thought I, would that I now had many a morsel which I could not have eaten in Vienna! Here, in Esterhaz, no one asks me, 'Would you like chocolate? Do you desire coffee with or without milk? With what can I serve you, my dear Haydn? Will you have vanilla or pine-apple ice?' Would that I had only a piece of good Parmesan cheese, so that I might the more easily swallow the black dumplings! Pardon me, most gracious lady, for taking up your time in my first letter with such piteous stuff. Much allowance must be made for a man spoiled by the good things in Vienna. But I have already commenced to accustom myself to the country by degrees, and yesterday I studied for the first time quite in the Haydn manner."

An event shortly after occurred which for the time greatly stimulated his creative ability. The Princess died, and the Prince sank into such melancholy that he wanted music every day. At this time he would not allow him to be absent for twenty-four hours. He speaks often of his deep distress of heart and of his many disappointments and ill-humors. "But, thank God, this time will also pass away," he says at the close of a letter, in which he is looking forward to the winter. "It is sad always to be a slave, but Providence so wills it," he says on another occasion. "I am a poor creature, continually tormented with hard work, and with but few hours for recreation. Friends? What do I say? One true friend? There are no longer any true friends, save one, oh! yes, I truly have one, but she is far away from me; I can take refuge, however, in my thoughts; God bless her and so order that she shall not forget me." "My friendship for you is so tender that it can never become culpable, since I always have before my eyes reverence for your exalted virtue," he also wrote in reply to Frau von Genzinger, concerning a letter which to his regret had been lost.

We now come to a time when the "ill-humors" ceased, and Haydn secured a better situation, and, more than all, complete freedom. The Prince died and crowned his generosity with the legacy of a pension of one thousand gulden. The new Prince, Paul Anton, added four hundred gulden more to it, so that Haydn could now live comfortably upon a stipend of two thousand eight hundred marks. He discharged the orchestra and only required of Haydn that he should retain the title of Capellmeister at Esterhaz. Haydn called this position "poorly requited" and added that he was on horseback, "without saddle or bridle," but hoped one day or other by his own service, "for I can not flatter or beg," or by the personal influence of his gracious Prince, to be placed in a higher position. But this did not occur until a later time, and then by the help "of his fourth Prince." He soon removed to Vienna, and declined the invitation of Prince Grassalkowic to enter his service. It was not long before his affairs took a happy turn in another direction, and in the place of rural restraint he enjoyed the widest and most unrestricted public liberty.

The violinist, J. P. Salomon, a native of Bonn, who had played in Haydn's quartets long before and occupied a distinguished place in the musical world of London, entered his room one evening and curtly said: "I am Salomon, of London, and have come to take you away. We will close the bargain to-morrow." He was on his travels engaging singers for the theatrical manager Gallini, and on his return to Cologne, heard of the death of Prince Esterhazy. Haydn at first offered various objections--his ignorance of foreign languages, his inexperience in traveling and his old age; but Salomon's propositions were so brilliant that he wavered. Five thousand gulden, and the sale of his compositions were something worth unusual consideration in the straightened circumstances of a simple musician, entering upon old age. Besides, he had plenty of compositions finished which no one knew of outside of Esterhaz. He made his assent conditional upon the Prince's permission and gave no further heed to Salomon's persuasions. Mozart himself, who had traveled much about the world, interposed his objections with the best intentions. "Papa" was too old. He was not fitted for the great world. He spoke too few languages. A man of fifty-eight ought to remain quietly among his old and sure friends. "I am still active and strong, and my language is understood all over the world," he replied.

The Prince did not refuse his permission, and the expenses of the journey were advanced. Haydn sold his little house at Eisenstadt, took the five hundred gulden which he had saved up, consigned his bonds to his "highly cherished" Vienna friend to whom he commended his wife, and made all his preparations for the journey which was to establish his fame all over the world. He started Dec. 15, 1790. Mozart did not leave his beloved "Papa" the whole day. He dined with him, and tearfully exclaimed at the moment of separation: "We are saying our last farewell to-day." Haydn was also deeply moved. He was twenty-four years older, and the thought of his own death alone occurred to him. It was but a year later that he heard of Mozart's death, and shed bitter tears. "I shall rejoice in my home and in embracing my good friends like a child," he wrote at a later time to Frau von Genzinger, "only I lament that the great Mozart will not be among them, if it be true, which I hope not, that he is dead. Posterity will not find such talent again for a century." He was the one who was destined to be the heir of Mozart, and it was his London visit which broadened his intellectual horizon and gave his fancy freer development. He was then the direct guide of Beethoven, whose sonatas, quartets and symphonies were more closely developed and patterned upon the works which Haydn had then written than upon Mozart's, the marvelous beauty of whose music was more like an inspiration from above, which could scarcely be appropriated or imitated by his followers.

His letters to Frau von Genzinger abound in information about the events of this journey, and, thanks to the detailed investigation of C. F. Pohl in his little book, "Mozart and Haydn in London" , we are now placed in full possession of them, but we shall confine ourselves only to those details which are indispensable to a record of Haydn's progress.

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