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Judging by the number of times they have been read, my earlier essays in this series have been quite popular, so I have been amazingly lax in moving this project forward. I plead guilty as charged, but there is a reason; I have been too busy working with these books to have time to write about them!
London Notebook No. 2:
In the month of January 1792, a roasting chicken cost 7 shillings, a turkey 9 shillings, a dozen larks 1 crown. N.B. : a duck, if it is plucked, costs 5 shillings.
Haydn, a man who loved his trivia (and his food)! Well, 1792 will likely bring more than a fowl meal, in whatever homonymic sense you will apply. In fact, if 1791 introduced Haydn into the public consciousness, then he left London in 1792 as The King of the World!
As we did last year, this year we will mainly look at just a very few people of the hundreds who were part of Haydn's life. No suspense to be injected here, they are Ignaz Pleyel and Rebecca Schröter. It would be hard to find more similar or more diverse people to have had such an effect on Haydn's life this year.
London Notebook No. 2:
When Mr. Fox was seeking votes to elect him to Parliament, a citizen said he would give him a rope instead of a vote. Fox answered that he could not rob him of a family heirloom.
Why did The Professors choose Pleyel?
We saw last time:
London Notebook No. 2:
On 23rd Dec. [1791] Pleyel arrived in London. On the 24th I dined with him.
In the period before the concert season began, and even well into it, Haydn and Pleyel were nothing if not chummy. As we see here, they saw the Old Year out together with a trip to the opera.
London Notebook No. 1:
On 31st Dec. [1791] I was with Pleyel in the Pantheon Theatre. They gave La Pastorella Mobile by Guglielmi. Mad. Cassentini played the leading role and Laza[rini] die primo huomo. The thin Calvesi had l'ultima parte. The opera did not please. Neither did the ballet, even though the great [Mad.] Hillisburg danced.
Various people, myself included, have speculated that when the Professional Concert contracted Pleyel's services, they were less than candid with him about their motivations for doing so. From Pleyel's point of view, the job served two functions; it got him out of town at a time when being in France was a less than desirable situation, even for a neutral party, and it also put a nice bit of money into his account. He had no ax to grind with Haydn, nothing but fond memories of early times, such as we see here. Rita Benton, Pleyel's modern champion, wrote the article in The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians which sums up the very little we know about Pleyel's early life and education with Haydn:
Pleyel, Ignaz Joseph (b Ruppersthal, Lower Austria, 18 June 1757; d Paris, 14 Nov 1831) He was the 24th of 38 children in the family.
…Pleyel's baptismal certificate in the parish office names his father Martin, a schoolteacher, and his mother Anna Theresia (Maria Christina Theresa in MGG1). He is said to have studied with Vanhal while very young, and in about 1772 he became Haydn's pupil and lodger in Eisenstadt, his annual pension being paid by Count Ladislaus Erdödy, whose family at Pressburg was related to Haydn's patrons, the Esterházy's. The count showed his pleasure at the progress of his protégé by offering Haydn a carriage and two horses, for which Prince Esterházy agreed to provide a coachman and fodder.
Little is known of the daily activities of Haydn's several pupils. A few incidents concerning Pleyel's apprenticeship are recounted in Framery's Notice sur Joseph Haydn, in which the author claimed that 'these various anecdotes were furnished me by a person who spent his entire youth with him and who guarantees their authenticity'. That person is generally identified as Pleyel, living in Paris when the Notice appeared there in 1810. The assumption is strengthened by the manner in which the narrative favors Pleyel, always emphasizing the closeness of his relationship with Haydn and the master's affection and esteem for him. During this period Pleyel's puppet opera Die Fee Urgele was first performed at Eszterháza (November 1776), and at the Vienna National theater. Haydn's puppet opera Das abgebrannte Haus, or Die Feuersbrunst, was also first performed in 1776 or 1777, with an overture (or at least its first two movements) now generally accepted as being by Pleyel.
Modern musicologists are generally tepid about Pleyel. As they are about anyone else outside of their personal Top Ten. The same wasn't true of his contemporaries though, as we see in this letter from Mozart:
Mozart to Leopold Mozart – April 4th, 1784
I must tell you that some quartets [NB – his Opus 2] have just appeared here, composed by a certain Pleyel, a pupil of Joseph Haydn. If you do not know them, do try and get hold of them; you will find them worth the trouble. They are very well written and most pleasing to listen to. You will also see at once who was his master. Well, it will be a lucky day for music, if, when the time comes, Pleyel should be able to replace Haydn.
No doubt, Mozart had his own personal reasons for being so effusive, but this doesn't negate the certain degree of enthusiasm which he expresses for Pleyel's music. Certainly he was nowhere near as close to Haydn in 1784 as in 1790, although he was in the process of composing his 'Haydn' quartets at the time.
In future times, Pleyel's fame would rest on his publishing activities and instrument manufacturing. But in 1792, his music was the dernier cri of London and Paris, so there is no mystery, really, why The Professors wanted him. It is a typical case of a composer being a star in his own time, which has since been dimmed by the obscuring effects of history.
London Notebook No. 2:
Begehre nicht ein glück zu gross Und nicht ein weib zu schön, Der Himmel möchte dir dies Loos Im zorne zugestehn.
(Do not desire too great happiness or too beautiful a wife: Heaven might, in anger, grant your wish!)
Was Haydn at all intimidated (as The Professors would have liked) by this 'hired gun'? Here is what he has to say to his various lady friends at the time:
[To LUIGIA POLZELLI, PIACENZA [Northern Italy]. Italian, "Tu" form]
London, 14th January 1792.
My dearest Polzelli!
This very moment I received your letter, and hasten to answer it. I am relieved that you are in good health, and that you have found a position in a little theatre; not so much because of the payment but to have the experience. I wish you every possible success, in particular a good role and a good teacher, who takes the same pains with you as did your Haydn. [snip]I see her [NB – Polzelli's sister] but rarely, for I have a lot to do, especially now, when the Professional Concert has had my pupil Pleyel brought over, to face me as a rival; but I'm not afraid, because last year I made a great impression on the English and hope therefore to win their approval this year, too. [snip]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[To MARIA ANNA VON GENZINGER, VIENNA. German]
London, 17th January 1792.
Nobly born and gracious Lady!
[snip] …. I am making every effort to do my best, because our rivals, The Professional Concert, have had my pupil Pleyel from Strasbourg come here to conduct their concerts. So now a bloody harmonious war will commence between master and pupil. The newspapers are full of it, but it seems to me that there will soon be an armistice, because my reputation is so firmly established here. Pleyel behaved so modestly towards me upon his arrival that he won my affection again. We are very often together, and this does him credit, for he knows how to appreciate his father. We shall share our laurels equally and each go home satisfied.
And later on:
[To MARIA ANNA VON GENZINGER, VIENNA. German]
London, 2nd March 1792.
Nobly born and gracious Lady!
Yesterday evening I received your welcome letter and the Symphony [NB - #91, finally!] I had asked for; I respectfully kiss Your Grace's hands for the prompt and careful delivery. Six days before I had in fact received it [NB – the parts] through Herr von Keess from Brussels, but the score was much more useful, for I have to change many things for the English public. [snip]… but there isn't a day, not a single day, in which I am free from work, and I shall thank the dear Lord when I can leave London, the sooner the better. My labors have been augmented by the arrival of my pupil Pleyel, whom the Professional Concert have brought here. He arrived here with a lot of new compositions, but they had been composed long ago; he therefore promised to present a new work every evening. As soon as I saw this, I realized at once that a lot of people were dead set against me, and so I announced publicly that I would likewise produce 12 different new pieces. In order to keep my word, and to support poor Salomon, I must be the victim and work the whole time. But I really do feel it. My eyes suffer the most, and I have many sleepless nights, though with God's help I shall overcome it all. The people of the Professional Concert wanted to put a spoke in my wheel, because I would not go over to them; but the public is just. I enjoyed a great deal of success last year, but still more this year. Pleyel's presumption is sharply criticized, but I love him just the same. I always go to his concerts, and am the first to applaud him….
So, it would appear as though Haydn was not so much intimidated as he was merely prepared to do his best and confidently go forward, letting the chips fall where they would. Much as he had done his entire life.
London Notebook No. 2:
Wer mit Vernunft betracht' den wechsel aller Sachen, Den kan kein glück nicht froh, kein unglück traurig machen.
(He who wisely observes how all things change cannot be made happy by good fortune or unhappy by bad.)
We shall see where the chips did fall as we look at the procession of events of 1792.
Thanks for reading!
The final three months of 1791 see Haydn reaping some of the fruit of his fame and his new doctorate. Travels continue, but work never sleeps, and so business is always hanging in the background too.
In early November we see a natural follow-up to "as a result of it, I gained the acquaintance of the first men in the land and had entrance into the greatest houses" which we read about during the description of the Oxford journey. Haydn accepted an invitation from the Duke of York, second son of George III and brother of the Prince of Wales, and spent three days at York's "new" palace, Oatlands.
London Notebook:
The little castle, 18 miles from London, lies on a slope and commands the most glorious view. Among its many beauties is a most remarkable grotto which cost £25 000 sterling, and which was 11 years in the building. It is very large and contains many diversions, inter alia actual water that flows in from various sides, a beautiful English garden, various entrances and exits, besides a most charming bath.
I know we recall this letter from 1787, in gratitude for the set of 'Paris' Symphonies sent to Berlin, and which caused the dedication of the 'Prussian Quartets (Opus 50):
[To HAYDN FROM FRIEDRICH WILHELM II, KING OF PRUSSIA. (in German)]
His Majesty, King of Prussia, &c., &c. is sensible of the mark of respect which Herr Kapellmeister Haydn, in sending him six new Symphonies, again wishes to show to His Serene Majesty. They have especially pleased him, and there is no doubt that His Highness has always appreciated Herr Kapellmeister Haydn's works, and will appreciate them at all times. To provide concrete assurance of the same, he sends him the enclosed ring as a mark of His Highness' satisfaction and of the favor in which he holds him.
F Wilhelm
Potsdam, 21st April 1787
[enclosed is a large gold ring]
Friedrich Wilhelm sent more than a gold ring to the Duke of York though: honeymooning at Oatlands during Haydn's visit were York and Wilhelm's seventeen year old daughter, Princess Frederica Charlotte of Prussia. In a December letter to Marianne, he tells her about his visit:
[snip]… I must take this opportunity of informing Your Grace that 3 weeks ago I was invited by the Prince of Wales to visit his brother, the Duke of York, at the latter's country seat. The Prince presented me to the Duchess, the daughter of the King of Prussia, who received me very graciously and said many flattering things. She is the most delightful lady in the world, is very intelligent, plays the pianoforte and sings very nicely. I had to stay there 2 days, because a slight indisposition prevented her attending the concert on the first day. On the 2nd day, however, she remained continually at my side from 10 o'clock in the evening, when the music began, to 2 o'clock in the morning. Nothing but Haydn was played. I conducted the symphonies from the pianoforte, and the sweet little thing sat beside me on my left and hummed all the pieces from memory, for she had heard them so often in Berlin. The Prince of Wales sat on my right side and played with us on his violoncello, quite tolerably. I had to sing, too. The Prince of Wales is having my portrait painted just now, and the picture is to hang in his room. … On the third day the Duke of York sent me two stages with his own span, since I couldn't catch the mail-coach….
The portrait which Haydn mentions is seen at top of page; it is one of the most famous of Haydn, painted by John Hoppner. It hangs today in Buckingham Palace as part of the Royal Collection. And for you ladies out there, I wish to point out that the phrase "sweet little thing" is original to Haydn and has nothing to do with me!
Although the trip to Oxford produced no first-hand descriptions of Haydn's impressions, no doubt due to the lost Genzinger letter, Cambridge, later in November, got this much anyway:
Trip through Cambridge (London Notebook)
On the 30th November [1791], I spent 3 days in the country, 100 miles from London, at the house of Sir Patric Blak [Patrick Blake, who lived at Langham] ; en route I passed through the little town of Cambridge. Saw the universities there, which are very conveniently situated, one after another, in a row, but each one separate from the other; each university has back of it a very roomy and beautiful garden, besides beautiful stone bridges, in order to be able to cross the circumjacent stream. The King's Chapel is famous because of its stuccoed ceiling. It is all made of stone, but so delicate that nothing more beautiful could have been made of wood. It is already 400 years old, and everyone thinks that it is not more than 10 years old, because of the firmness and peculiar whiteness of the stone. The students there bear themselves like those at Oxford, but it is said that they have better teachers. There are in all 800 students.
Business is never far away, though; The Professional Concert, or as Haydn called them (as will I, since I like it!), 'The Professors', didn't take kindly to being pushed into second place in the ongoing 'Concert Wars'. They sent six wealthy men as a deputation to try to enlist Haydn to their cause. Haydn was true to his friends though, and refused their offer. As a result, the war in the newspapers started up again. There was a new weapon in an old battle now, though; with Haydn being cast as the worn-out old man, The Professors hired a virile young stud to put up against him; Haydn's own one-time pupil, Ignaz Pleyel! More fodder for the newshounds.
Despite traveling a hundred miles to visit the Blake's in Langham, in the event Haydn and Co. only stayed there for three days. What could draw them back to London so soon in those days of hard travel? Easy, Mrs. Billington was back! In Covent Garden, epicenter of English Opera, the new production of The Woodman by William Shield opened. All in all, it seems Haydn wasn't unduly impressed with the National Opera;
Second London Notebook:
Covent-Garden is the National Theatre. I was there on 10th Dec. [1791] and saw an opera called The Woodman. It was the very day on which the life story of Madam Billington, both from the good as well as from the bad sides, was announced; such impertinent enterprises are generally undertaken for [selfish] interests. She sang rather timidly this evening, but very well all the same. The first tenor [space for name left blank, but it was Charles Incledon, quite well-known and popular] has a good voice and quite a good style, but he uses the falsetto to excess. He sang a trill on high C and ran up to G. The 2nd tenor tries to imitate him, but could not make the change from the falsetto to the natural voice, and apart from that he is most unmusical. He creates a new tempo for himself, now 3/4, then 2/4, makes cuts whenever it occurs to him. But the cahest [cast] is entirely used to him. The leader is Herr Baumgartner, a German who, however, has almost forgotten his mother-tongue. The Theatre is very dark and dirty, and is almost as large as the Vienna Court Theatre. The common people in the galleries of all the theatres are very impertinent; they set the fashion with all their unrestrained impetuosity, and whether something is repeated or not is determined by their yells. The parterre and all the boxes sometimes have to applaud a great deal to have something good repeated. That was just what happened this evening, with the Duet in the 3rd Act, which was very beautiful; and the pro's and contra's went on for nearly a quarter of an hour, till finally the parterre and the boxes won, and they repeated the Duet. Both the performers stood on the stage quite terrified, first retiring, then again coming forward. THE ORCHESTRA IS SLEEPY.
Not really the sort of operatic experience Haydn had provided the Prince and his guests at Eszterháza! But this was also a 'business trip' of a sort, since there was an ulterior motive, beyond having a look at the object of blackmail which Elizabeth Billington had come to be; in the coming year she would be the leading vocalist at both the Professional Concert and the Salomon/Haydn Concerts! As you see here, Haydn was impressed with her voice, even when she was clearly having an off night. She didn't have many of those. Billington was quite beautiful as well as being a good actress and a superb vocalist. All of this talent shot her right to the top of the London music scene. This famous painting of her by Joshua Reynolds shows her as St. Cecelia, patron saint of music, surrounded by singing cherubs. When Haydn was shown it, he is said to have remarked "what a strange mistake has been made: you have painted her listening to the angels, but you should have represented the angels, listening to her". Next February, when a scandalous book about her is actually released, we will see the much longer Notebook entry from which this is extracted:
…It is said that her character is the worst sort, but she is a great genius, and all the women hate her because she is so beautiful…
Haydn always had a good eye for where the deceit was lurking.
Nature conspires with history;
Second London Notebook
On 5th Dec. [1791] the fog was so thick that you could have spread it on bread. In order to write I had to light the lights at 11 o'clock.
Meanwhile, back in Vienna…
Second London Notebook
Mozard [sic] died on 5th Dec. 1791.
An anecdote from Constanze Mozart, related by Franz Xavier Niemetschek (Leben des k.k. Kapellmeister Wolfgang Gottlieb Mozart – the first Mozart biography, published in 1798):
…On his return to Vienna (from Prague, mid-September), his indisposition increased visibly and made him gloomily depressed. His wife was truly distressed over this. One day when she was driving in the Prater with him, to give him a little distraction and amusement, and they were sitting by themselves, Mozart began to speak of death, and declared that he was writing the Requiem for himself. Tears came to the eyes of the sensitive man: 'I feel definitely,' he continued, 'that I will not last much longer; I am sure I have been poisoned. I cannot rid myself of this idea.'
And then, this account of the day of Mozart's death, from family friend Benedikt Schack:
On the very eve of his death, [Mozart] had the score of the Requiem brought to his bed, and himself (it was two o'clock in the afternoon) sang the alto part; Schack, the family friend, sang the soprano line, as he had always previously done, Hofer, Mozart's brother-in-law, took the tenor, Gerl, later a bass singer at the Mannheim Theater, the bass. They were at the first bars of the Lacrimosa when Mozart began to weep bitterly, laid the score on one side, and eleven hours later, at one o'clock in the morning (of 5 December 1791, as is well known), departed this life.
Modern scholarship has disproved many of these contemporary accounts, Constanze's was self-serving, part of a (well-justified) sales campaign for the Requiem, while many details, such as Mozart's letters from the time, show him to have actually been in high spirits, buoyed by the success of Die Zauberflöte and other works, like the Freimaurerkantate (K 623) and the apparent upward direction in his career trajectory. Schack's was the basis for every belief for the next 200 years, and the inspiration of the painting above, and many others. But the truth is not as important as what was believed to be the truth at the time. Since Haydn was in London, he had no first-hand knowledge of anything.
Last December 15, we were in Vienna having dinner with Salomon, Mozart and Haydn, and Mozart reportedly expressed concern that Haydn's trip to London would be the death of him, and they should never see each other again. It was, no doubt, a sobering moment for the both of them. Now, ten days less than a year later, his premonition came true, only not in the way he had interpreted it.
The number of people who actually understood Mozart, to the point where they could have predicted his place in history, is appallingly small. Certainly by the turn of the century, anyone who had anything to do with music was bemoaning the untimely death of the young master, woe and alas &c… but when he was still alive, it would be difficult to discover anywhere, in any art, a comparable genius who was as overlooked as Mozart was. Among that appallingly small number, though, was one Joseph Haydn, perhaps the only living person who could understand Mozart on his own level and appreciate the true heights of his genius. And beyond music, they were friends, two people who understood and appreciated each other equally as people as well as musicians.
[To MARIA ANNA VON GENZINGER, VIENNA. in German]
London, 20th December 1791.
[snip] Now, gracious lady, I would like to take you to task a little, for believing that I prefer the city of London to Vienna, and that I find the sojourn here more agreeable than that in my fatherland. I don't hate London, but I would not be capable of spending the rest of my life there, even if I could amass millions. I shall tell Your Grace the reason when I see you. I look forward tremendously to going home and to embracing all my good friends. I only regret that the great Mozart will not be among them, if it is really true, which I trust it is not, that he has died. Posterity will not see such a talent again in 100 years!
[EXTRACTS FROM A LETTER TO J. M. PUCHBERG, VIENNA. in German]
London, January 1792.
.... For some time I was beside myself about his [Mozart's] death, and I could not believe that Providence would so soon claim the life of such an indispensable man. I only regret that before his death he could not convince the English, who walk in darkness in this respect, of his greatness, a subject about which I have been sermonizing to them every single day ... You will be good enough, my kind friend, to send me a catalogue of those pieces which are not yet known here, and I shall make every possible effort to promote such works for the widow's benefit; I wrote the poor woman three weeks ago, and told her that when her favorite son reaches the necessary age, I shall give him composition lessons to the very best of my ability, and at no cost, so that he can, to some extent, fill his father's position.
As we will see down the road, Haydn memorialized Mozart in various ways, such as quoting his works here and there, and performing services for Mozart's family when he finally gets back to Vienna. But the gap left in his life must have been palpable; we never see any indication of him having another friendship comparable to that with Mozart.
And finally, the end of Year 1;
Second London Notebook
On 23rd Dec. [1791] Pleyel arrived in London. On the 24th I dined with him.
Haydn was so much cleverer than the forces arrayed against him. Pleyel was brought in as a 'hired gun' to put a stake through Haydn's heart. Will the strategy work? 1792 will tell the tale.
Thanks for reading!
As much as I hunt through the records, skimpy though they may be from time to time, I have yet to find an instance where Haydn actually had a holiday, besides the busman's sort such as his trip to Graz in 1787 to do some charity work. But in England, after the end of the 1791 concert season, he finally had an opportunity to enjoy what might have been the most extended vacation of his life!
His first two notebooks, although they are often called a 'diary', are really just a series of jottings of thoughts which came into his head. Apparently, he picked up one or the other of them every day, not caring which, so trying to make any sort of order based on internal evidence is more than we can hope for. But there is also a fair record by outsiders to go along with, which allows us to see just what Haydn's extended summer vacation entailed. After the return from Oxford, Haydn went on an extended stay to Hertfordshire. This from the London Notebook No. 1:
On 4th August [1791], I went to visit Herr Brassy*, the banker who lives in the country, 12 miles from London. Stayed there 5 weeks. I was very well entertained. N.B.: Herr Brassy once cursed, because he had had too easy a time in this world.
[Landon] *NATHANIEL BRASSEY and his family lived at Roxford, about a mile from the village of Hertingfordbury in Hertfordshire; Haydn taught music to the daughter in London. Brassey tried to shoot himself but was dissuaded. Brassey died in 1798 and lies buried in the local parish churchyard.
Interesting here, how Haydn (typically) underplays the human drama in such a little story. Brassey, in fact, did a bit more than curse. As Dies tells us, Haydn was invited along for the family vacation. During the course of the evenings of chatting, the subject of the splendor which surrounded both the Brassey's and Haydn in London, was a frequent topic of conversation, especially when compared to the impecunious background which Haydn was born into:
One evening during one of these conversations, Brassey jumped up, and swore as if one possessed [thus the once cursed remark], and swore that if he had a loaded pistol he would shoot himself on the spot.
Haydn jumped up meanwhile and shouted "Quick, help, quick: don't shoot me!" He thought he had only one life, and it was too soon to lose it!
The banker's wife and several others hurried thither in alarm. The banker called out to them, "bring the pistols, I'm going to shoot myself". The people who had hurried in sought to discover the cause of this murderous intent. The banker long refused an answer. When they finally implored of him with tears in their eyes, he repeated again the strongest of oaths, and protested he was going to shoot himself because he had never known misfortune. Grief, misery and need, he did not know, could say nothing of them from his own experience, but, as he now observed, [he] was still not happy, because he only knew eating and drinking: he only knew superabundance and hence detested it.
An odd event, one which Haydn scarcely noted in his pocket book, and yet, fourteen years later when discussing it with Dies, he remembered every word as though it just happened the day before. I include this story here, not because Brassey was a hugely important historic figure, but rather because the empathetic way in which Haydn remembered and related it tells much of the sort of impression it made on him.
The same day Haydn left town for the visit with the Brassey's, he took a moment to write this letter to Polzelli, mainly to acknowledge news of the death of her husband, Antonio. He had been invalided (with tuberculosis) for nearly ten years now, during which time she took care of him, as well as the children, and also sang at the Opera and took care of Haydn's special needs. The time is rapidly approaching when Haydn's world has changed though, and he along with it.
[To LUIGIA POLZELLI, VIENNA. Italian} "Tu" form]
London, 4th August 1791.
Dear Polzelli!
I hope that you will have received my last letter through Count Fries and also the hundred florins [Gulden] which I transferred to you. I would like to do more, but at present I cannot. As far as your husband is concerned, I tell you that Providence has done well to liberate you from this heavy yoke, and for him, too, it is better to be in another world than to remain useless in this one. The poor man has suffered enough.
Dear Polzelli, perhaps, perhaps the time will come, which we both so often dreamt of, when four eyes shall be closed. Two are closed, but the other two…. enough of all this, it shall be as God wills. Meanwhile, pay attention to your health, I beg of you, and write me very soon, because for quite some time now I have had days of depression without really knowing why, and your letters cheer me, even when they are sad.
Good bye, dear Polzelli, the mail won't wait any longer. I kiss your family and remain always,
Your most sincere
Haydn.
[Address:] Madame Polzelli
Virtuosa di Musica a Vienna en Autriche
Perhaps it was the short taste of ocean-going which he had gotten on the Channel voyage, but it seems like Haydn has developed an interest in ships and being on the water. These are three consecutive entries in the Notebook;
In the month of August [1791] I lunched at noon on an East India merchantman with 6 cannon. I was given a magnificent meal.
In this same month I went with Mr. [William] Fraser up the Tems [Thames] from Westminster Bridge to Richmond, where we ate on an island. There were 24 persons in our party, besides a Feld Musik [wind band].
In England, a large man-of-war is reckoned according to the number of its cannon. Each cannon is estimated at 1,000 lbs.
As we know, there is nothing new under the sun. Haydn paid homage to this aphorism with a single word entry, the very last word in Notebook #1:
Fortunately, Landon helps us out with this info:
FRANZ KOTZWARA, a native of Prague, was engaged by Gallini as viola player in 1790 (he had been in Ireland previously). On 2nd September 1791, he visited a house of ill fame in Vine Street, St. Martin's, and paid a whore a guinea to hang him. His death caused considerable excitement in the Press. (Landon)
Landon is a bit shy to discuss erotic asphyxiation, but the Kozwarra link has the whole, interesting story. And Parke (William Parke, Musical Memoirs, London 1830) tells us that Kotzwara's main means of support was to write 'imitative' music, in his case, chamber music after Haydn, Pleyel and other Continental favorites. In other words, we finally get to meet one of those people who write 'works by Haydn' and sell them to publishers. Just in time for him to get hung in a brothel! One wonders if Haydn knew about the fraudulent music business, or if he merely preserved the name out of a feeling of sadness over the story about a person he knew. Parke goes on to tell us how the trial turned out:
As it was proved that he was suspended by his own desire, and that neither he nor the parties implicated in the transaction ever contemplated death, the whores were acquitted…
One thing Haydn couldn't escape was his fame, which followed him around the countryside like Coleridge's albatross;
On 14th Sept. [1791] I dined for the first time at Mr. Shaw's. He received me downstairs at the door, and then led me to his wife, who was surrounded by her 2 daughters and other ladies. As I was bowing round the circle, all at once I became aware of the fact that not only the lady of the house but also her daughters and the other women each wore on their headdress a parte over the front a most charming curved, pearl-colored band of 3 fingers' breadth, with the name Haydn embroidered therein in gold; and Mr. Shaw wore this name on his coat, worked into the very ends of both his collars in the finest steel beads. The coat was made of the finest cloth, and with elegant steel buttons. The Mistress is the most beautiful woman I ever saw.
N.B. : Her husband wanted a souvenir from me, and I gave him a tobacco-box which I had just bought brand new for a guinea; he gave me his instead. Several days later I visited him, and saw that he had had a silver case put over my box, on the cover of which was very elegantly engraved Apollo's harp and the following words: "Ex dono celeberrimi Josephi Haydn" N.B. The Mistress gave me a stickpin as a souvenir.
Nor has Haydn forgotten Marianne, it is just that the letter he wrote her about Oxford went astray and she never received it. The letter which he sent her as a follow-up, though, is, in my opinion, one of the most important letters which we will see from this period;
[To MARIA ANNA VON GENZINGER, VIENNA. German]
Nobly born and gracious Lady !
I have received no reply as yet to my 2nd letter of 3rd July, which I entrusted to a composer here, Herr Diettenhofer1, together with the pianoforte arrangement of a little Andante from one of my new Symphonies2, to give to Your Grace; nor have I any answer either about the Symphony in E flat3 which I asked for; and so I cannot wait any longer to enquire after Your Grace's health, and that of your husband and all your dear family. Could it be that the odious proverb, "Out of sight, out of mind", is true everywhere? Oh no! either urgent affairs, or the loss of my letter and the Symphony, are responsible. I feel sure that Herr von Keess [sic] is quite willing to send the Symphony I asked for, because he said so in his letter to me; but since both of us will have to bear this loss, we shall have to leave it to Providence. I flatter myself that I shall receive a short answer to this.
Now, my dear good gracious lady, how is your fortepiano ? Is a Haydnish thought brought to mind, now and then, by your fair hand ? Does my dear Fraulein Pepi sometimes sing poor Ariadne…? Oh yes ! I can hear it even here, especially during the last two months, when I have been living in the country, amid the loveliest scenery, with a banker's family where the atmosphere is like that of the Gennzinger family, and where I live as if I were in a monastery. I am all right, thank the good Lord! except for my usual rheumatism; I work hard, and when in the early mornings I walk in the woods, alone, with my English grammar, I think of my Creator, my family, and all the friends I have left behind and of these, you are the ones I most value. Of course I had hoped to have the pleasure of seeing you sooner, but my circumstances in short, fate will have it that I remain in London another 8 or 10 months. Oh, my dear gracious lady! How sweet this bit of freedom really is! I had a kind Prince, but sometimes I was forced to be dependent on base souls. I often sighed for release, and now I have it in some measure. I appreciate the good sides of all this, too, though my mind is burdened with far more work. The realization that I am no bond-servant makes ample amends for all my toils. But, dear though this liberty is to me, I should like to enter Prince Esterhazy's service again when I return, if only for the sake of my family. I doubt whether this will be possible, however, for in his letter my Prince strongly objects to my staying away for so long, and absolutely demands my speedy return; but I can't comply with this, owing to a new contract which I have just made here. And now, unfortunately, I expect my dismissal, whereby I hope that God will give me the strength to make up for this loss, at least partly, by my industry. Meanwhile I console myself by the hope of hearing something soon from Your Grace. You shall receive my promised new Symphony in two months, but in order to inspire me with good ideas, I beg Your Grace to write, and to write a long letter, too, to one who is ever Your Grace's most sincere friend and obedient servant,
Jos. Haydn.
London, 17th September 1791.
My respectful compliments to Herr von Gennzinger and the whole family. Please forgive my taking the liberty of enclosing a letter to Herr von Keess, but I didn't have his address.
1. (as subsequent correspondence shows), JOSEPH DIETTENHOFER was a Viennese composer who had lived for some time in England: see also letter of 20th December 1791.
2. No. 95 in C minor
3. No. 91
Haydn had written to the Prince on July 20th to ask for an extension of his leave of absence. The Prince replied with a big, fat "NO" on August 12, while Haydn was off with the Brassey family. As we see here, he has chosen to ignore the no! Can anyone reading this imagine him doing such a thing even five years before? This is a major breakthrough for Haydn, and I really take great joy in highlighting it here. Even though he is talking about wanting to have the Prince held in reserve to provide security for retirement, the fact that he has decided not to dedicate the remainder of his working life to anyone but himself is a clear sign of how things have changed, not only in the world at large, but in this erstwhile poster child for Aristocratic Patronage!
The other part of this letter which I quite relish involves the scene of Haydn's daily walks through the woods, alone, praying and reading his English grammar. The beauty and solitude of the countryside had to have been a tremendous restorative for the soul of this denizen of the country. The two Gainsborough paintings in this essay, the first a detail of Scene with a Shepherd and his Flock, the other, Landscape in Suffolk, show us, perhaps, how the English countryside, so much like that of his roots, gave him back the peace and quiet he relished before Vienna and London, and which helped get the creative juices flowing. Reading his English grammar, however, shows us that the industrious side never really went to sleep, it was always there, pushing its way forward.
This mini-Grand Tour will continue next time, but first, a word from our sponsors, Salomon's Friday Night Concerts. During the course of this vacation, Haydn is never far from his quill and paper. After making the contract with Salomon for another year of concerts, he is well-aware of the obligations he has assumed. While we won't be looking in on these works right now, we should be aware that Symphonies No. 93 & 94 are actually being composed right now, during the Autumn of 1791, even though they will not be premiered until 1792. We at Salomon's thank you for your interest and want you to know, we are always working to make your concert experience the best! Next time, back to our tour!
Thanks for reading!