by John Hoppner
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.
Print from The European Magazine - 1799
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]
Duchess of York & Albany
by Josef Friedrich August Darbes (D'Arbes)
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.
by Joshua Reynolds (1789-90)
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.
Henry O'Neil c.1860
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!