As Haydn wrote back in 1773: Tempora mutantur. Times change. In 2013, three years ago this week, this blog began as a chronological series of random jottings. Not quite aimless, of course, it followed 'time's arrow' above all other things. But mainly it has been a time for learning. For all of us, learning about Haydn, still, in my opinion, one of the top composers of all time, but for me in particular, learning how to construct a proper sentence, then how to get it from my notebook onto the Internet. And then, developing a way to make each essay different from all the others by trying to find that one, unique characteristic which possibly had been overlooked, and making it into a vantage point from which to view Haydn at work. And finally, trying to give you all a variety of visual means to appreciate what your ears are telling you. Looking at things which Haydn looked at, and finding other artists' means of expressing the same ideas Haydn was expressing has become my own personal enjoyment. Lastly, providing difficult-to-find information in an easy to read format gives me a chance to give back some things to others so they won't have to spend all the time I have spent just looking for basic information. Over 27,000 people so far have checked in with Haydn, more than I ever foresaw, and to you all I say 'Thanks' for making these three years so enjoyable for me.
This is the final essay for 1792, and I realize, retrospectively, I have been treating the events of Haydn in London, and his return to Vienna, as though they were happening in a vacuum. Which is fine, of course, if all you are interested in is Symphony #94, but it doesn't carry you far in looking at the motivations which precipitated some of the actions we have seen. So let us zoom back for a moment and take a look at the compellingly turbulent scene of Europe in 1792.
No doubt, the main event of the decade was unfolding in Paris. In June of 1791, Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette quietly attempted to escape Paris and go to Austria, hoping to be able to direct an effort to reestablish themselves from Vienna. It was not to be, however, and they were captured and returned to house arrest in the Tuileries Palace. The revolutionaries spent the next ten months reorganizing themselves and basically making a plan for how best to establish a republic, now that a coalition with the King proved impossible. On 20 April, 1792, France declared war on Austria. That same night, in London, the Eighth Night of the Salomon/Haydn series took place. Among the works on the program, we got an extraordinary one: an actual Pianoforte Trio, still called an accompanied Sonata of course, with the keyboard played by the then thirteen year old Johann Nepomuk Hummel, accompanied by Salomon and his regular cellist, Menel. The trio was Hob 15:14 in Ab, recently sent over to Haydn by Marianne Genzinger, and this is certainly the very first mention I have ever seen of a piano trio, traditionally Hausmusik, being played in public. It had been published in Vienna, but since it had never been heard in London, it became a 'new work' for the occasion.
If we were to have delved deeper into the personnel makeup of the concerts of this season, one thing we would discover is a great many refugees from Paris being given an opportunity to play and make some income. We will see and talk about many more of them in the years to come.
Marie Antoinette with her daughters and lady-in-waiting in the Tuileries the first time it was stormed, on 20 June, 1792. by Anon. |
As we saw last time, Leopold II died in March, 1792, and there would be an election and coronation in Frankfurt in July. So when we saw Haydn quietly disappear from the London scene in the first week of July, there may well have been more than one reason for such a discreet departure. There was no boat to Calais as when he arrived, but rather, somewhere in the Netherlands, still a Habsburg holding, is a far more likely destination. Things in Paris were hardly settling down; on 10 August, a crowd of 20,000 stormed the Tuileries in an attempt to capture the Royals, who escaped, but only to throw themselves on the mercy of the Legislative Assembly, who promptly put them under arrest, ostensibly for their own protection. Louis had fewer than six months to live at this point, and the executions of 'Royalists' went into high gear, with hundreds being executed in the 'September Massacre'. War continued in the meantime, and on 20 September, at the Battle of Valmy (pictured at top), the French Revolutionary Army defeated the Prussian Army, now allied with Austria. The next day, the reorganized Legislative Assembly declared the monarchy finished and France a republic. They also found Louis guilty of treason and sentenced him to death.
It had to be uneasy times, even as far away as Vienna, isolated by distance and denial. Unquestionably it was all of that in England. From time to time, there was talk of revolution there, and it had to be suppressed, rather brutally, by the King. But by and large, the repulsion of the aristocracy for the Revolution was shared by the common folk. As brutal as we think their life was in relation to the upper classes, it was far better than that endured by their peers in France. Anyway, it was easy to disdain the French, it was already a lifestyle choice!
James Gillray was one of the very first political cartoonists, and this is a great example of his earlier work.
A small supper Paris-style __or__ A Family of Sans Culottes refreshing after the fatigue of the day.
A harsh indictment of the revolutionaries, but probably a very fair reflection of the general mood in England by late 1792! |
All of which brings us to Bonn. When Haydn arrived to visit with Salomon's sister and brother-in-law, and do some further evaluation of the Beethoven boy, he found the Elector, Maximilian Franz, already off to Frankfurt for the coronation of Franz II. To tie all this together now, we should remember how all these people are related. Marie Antoinette and Maximilian Franz were brother and sister. While both of them were aunt and uncle to Franz II, who was the son of another of their brothers, Leopold II. Maximilian and Marie were at least moderately close, as we see in this painting, of Max visiting Louis XVI and Marie at Versailles during happier times.
Beethoven's employment with Max, although sometimes portrayed as demeaning (the way the 19th century were wont to do), must certainly have had its moments of grandeur, just as Haydn's did. He may well have been infused with youthful, revolutionary fervor, but not because he received less than good treatment from his employer, who apparently valued him, and his talent, very highly indeed. Thus the funding of the 1787 trip to Vienna to study with Mozart, and the familial support when his mother died, and help taking care of his alcoholic father. This sort of treatment was not accorded to just anyone! So when Max returned from Frankfurt, possibly having seen Haydn there, although there is no record of it, it is very likely that he discussed Beethoven's future with Count Waldstein, and determined to fund the trip to Vienna for Beethoven to study with Haydn. Maybe not just yet, but soon!
Even though the French Revolutionary Army won the Battle of Valmy, they weren't going to be allowed the run of Europe without a fight. The Rhineland was vigorously defended as the great asset it was.
Beethoven's first teacher in Bonn, Christian Gottlob Neefe, wrote;
In November of last year (1792) Ludwig van Beethoven, assistant court organist and unquestionably now one of the foremost pianoforte players, went to Vienna at the expense of our Elector, to Haydn in order to perfect himself under his direction more fully in the art of composition.
But at the moment, Max Franz had a bit more on his mind than grooming his piano player for greatness. In early October, Mainz fell to the French. Clearly it was time to begin making plans to decamp. In late October, Beethoven's friends had a big 'going away' party for him, where they all signed his memory book. One of these notes, from Count Waldstein, has become a famous part of Beethoven lore:
|
"Dear Beethoven,—"You are now going to Vienna for the realization of your wishes, so long frustrated. The Genius of Mozart still mourns and laments the death of his disciple. He found refuge with the inexhaustible Haydn, but no scope for action, and through him he now wishes once more to be united to some one. Receive, through unbroken industry, the spirit of Mozart from the hands of Haydn. Your true friend, Waldstein. |
But this other one, from Cristoph von Breunig, tells us more than sentiment, it tells us what, at the time, they all believed the near future held:
See! Oh friend Albion calls you.
See! The shady grove which entices the singer
Hasten between them without delay
Over the surging sea
where a more beautiful grove offers you its shade
and a bard [NB – Salomon] stretches out his hand to you in friendship,
who from our fields fled to Albion's protection,
there let thy song ring loudly and victorious,
let it ring wildly through the grove, across the waves of the sea
to those fields
whence thou had'st fled with joy.
"You will be going to England to meet up with Salomon and find a new future there". Indeed, that was the plan. We shall soon see how that failed to come to fruition. In fact, Beethoven would remain in Vienna, other than a short sojourn in Prague, for the rest of his life!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile in Vienna, Haydn himself was not idle. When we were looking at the works of 1789, we ran into a subject which I found to be highly interesting. This was the mechanical clockwork organs which were manufactured by Haydn's friend and fellow employee at Eszterháza, Father Primitivus Niemecz. I hope you had an opportunity to read that essay, or are inclined to read it, since there is a lot of background information which you would find quite germane here, also.
Hob 19: |
Key |
Meter |
Tempo |
07 |
C |
3/4 |
Menuett |
08 |
C |
3/4 |
Menuett The Call of the Quail |
09 |
C |
3/4 |
Menuet: Allegretto 1 |
10 |
C |
2/4 |
Andante (Allegretto?) |
17 |
C |
2/4 |
Allegro moderato |
18 |
C |
3/8 |
Presto |
19 |
C |
2/4 |
Andante (Warning to a Girl) |
20 |
C |
3/4 |
Menuet: Trio from Symphony 85 |
21 |
G |
3/8 |
Allegretto |
22 |
C |
2/2 |
Allegro moderato 2 |
23 |
C |
2/4 |
Vivace 3 |
24 |
C |
3/8 |
Presto |
1 - First 2 measures are the same as string quartet Op 54 #2 |
|||
2 - from a set of Variations for keyboard discovered in 1958 |
|||
3 - Finale: Rondo: Allegro of a c minor symphony originally attrib. to Ditters |
In much the same fashion as Haydn, on the death of Nicholas I in 1790, Niemecz kept his post, and some of his duties for Anton, who provided him with a living space/workshop in Vienna, at the Royal Hungarian Noble Guard House in The Glacis. And so, upon his return to Vienna, it was a perfectly natural thing for Haydn to pay a visit to his old friend and see how things were going. Or, it is quite possible they remained in contact by post, since Haydn never kept letters and Niemecz may not have kept them. The verifiable fact though, by the date inscribed on the barrel of the organ, is that Niemecz was making a new piece, and Haydn was in time to produce the music for it.
Among many other unique aspects of Niemecz' organs is this: unlike nearly all others, they had only the notes and pipes available to play the music which was written for them. I have seen it discussed in the literature that it cannot be determined if the music was written first and the organ made for it, or if the organ was made first and the music composed to suit it. I don't see how the second choice is realistic though, why would a maker leave out various random notes? In this specific case, since there are four works from the previous, 1789 clock, it is possible the organ was made for those, and then upon Haydn's return, he composed the final eight based on the same limitations. Organ #2 has seventeen pipes ranging from c1 to c3, or two octaves. It must not have any 'black keys' except for an f# to be able to play in the key of G. This would explain the preponderance of C major pieces, since the first four were all in C major.
Another unique thing is this is the only piece which has survived with its clock intact. Intuitively, we seize upon the idea that the mechanism operated both the clock and the organ, but in fact, they are entirely separate inside the case, the only thing tying them together being the little linkage from the clock's drive which tells the organ to play a new song at the top of the hour. The 1789 clock we looked at earlier had been removed from its case, so we will never know what the original looks like, whether it had a clock or not. The 1793 piece, which shares having twelve works on the barrel with this clock, also has a hole in its case in the area where a linkage rod should be, so it is assumed to be a clock also. But #2 is an especially lovely clock, with a reverse-painted scene by Watteau (La Leçon d'Amour), the glass it is painted on was still intact the last time it was seen. There is also a round window which allows the pendulum to be seen, and a carved figure seated on a lion in each of the top, front corners. The dial of the clock itself has a very delicately painted scene of a military officer seated on horseback with a castle/fortress in the background. This scene may have been something dear to the original owner of the clock, since it hardly seems generic. On the hour, the clock plays one tune and stops automatically.
For Haydn to have been deeply interested in the creation of such works of art speaks again on a topic I have brought up before. The received wisdom of him being a music-making genius with no capability of thinking outside of that is once again shown to be ridiculous. His involvement with Niemecz and the organ/clocks had to go further than merely penning a few bars of music, but also had to include a compelling interest in the mechanical engineering possibilities and probably even in the aesthetic aspects. And Landon tells us that Haydn even provides, in the original manuscripts, an 'ossia (or)' version which would make the complicated, too difficult parts which the organ plays, playable by a person. The dating of the following diary entry confuses me, since Plank speaks later on of the clock in question playing "Haydn's latest quartet…" which is identified as Op 64 #5 (The Lark). So the 1801 date attributed to it is patently incorrect. I am thinking, instead, 1791, when Niemecz was indeed on his own, and Op 64 was, in fact, Haydn's newest and most difficult quartet!
Dairy of Beda Plank:
On March 20 (1791?) a friend took me to… Father Primitiv. [snip] he showed us several of his creations which, when he winds them up, play whole pieces by Haydn and Mozart in the finest organ tones and with such a degree of precision that not the smallest appoggiatura or trill or other like ornament is missed out. Even the echo effect comes over excellently…
And lastly this, for when Beethoven shows up in a few weeks' time, Haydn already has the guest room taken up.
[PlETRO POLZELLI TO LUIGIA POLZELLI (BOLOGNA)
WITH A POSTSCRIPT BY HAYDN.]
[Italian: Pietro in "Lei" form, Haydn in the "Tu"]
[Vienna] 22nd October [1792.]
Dearest Mother !
I beg you to forgive me for not being able immediately to answer the letter of 2nd October you sent to me. The reason is that I had kept on hoping to be able to include a little something with it. Dear Mother, I have spoken to il Sig'r Maestro Hayde [sic] and begged him many times on your account, dearest Mother, but he cannot do more than he has done already. Through Sig. Valentino Pertoja of Venice whom you know well from Eszterháza, and who is at present here in Vienna on business, il Sig'r Maestro Hayden [sic] sends you twenty-six florins [Gulden] and 30 xr [Kreutzer] together with this present letter. He says to tell you that he cannot send more at present, because he is incapable of doing so : he has many expenses on my behalf, and also for his own household. Dearest Mother, I must inform you that I shall leave Cristina's house today, since il Sig'r Maes. Haydn has found a place for me in his own home, so as to have more time to be able to teach me everything. I must further inform you that through the kindness of Sig'r Maestro Haydn I have found a house where I can earn something, it is at the home of the Countess Weissenwolf, where I teach her own daughter how to play the harpsichord. Thus I hope to be able to help a little, and I shall never fail to do my very best I am, as always,
Your most obedient son,
Pietro Polcelli [sic]
The 22nd of October
[HAYDN'S POSTSCRIPT]
Dear Polzelli, Your son has been very well received by my wife, and I hope this situation will continue. Pietro must teach the Countess Weissenwolf 's daughter, and he asked me of his own accord to send all the money he earns to his dear mother. I am mortified not to be able to send you any more than these twenty-six florins at present, but I have many expenses.
Farewell. I am your most sincere,
Giuseppe Haydn
So, Haydn had lived up to his letters to Polzelli from London, and had brought Pietro, the older son, to Vienna to teach him music. Haydn had always been very fond of Pietro, who was two years old when the Polzelli's arrived at Eszterháza to begin working for the Prince. Now fifteen, he was of an age to get a start in life with whatever advantages Haydn could provide. "Countess Weissenwolf" sort of threw a curve at me. From time to time in this account, I have mentioned in passing how confusing it is to keep everyone straight. So I spent considerable time researching this inconsequential bit of information, just to make a demonstration for you of what culturally Austrian genealogy can look like sometimes!
Prince Nicholas I had been married to Maria Elisabeth von Weissenwolf (d 1790), had a son named Anton and another named Nicholas. The first son, Anton, married Maria Theresia, Gräfin (Countess) Erdödy (1745–1782) in Vienna in 1763 (Haydn wrote the festa teatrale 'Acide' for their wedding). She bore him four children: among them Nicholas (who succeeded him as prince in 1794) and Anton Jr. (who died of wounds from the Austro-Turkish War (1787-1791)). When Maria Theresia died in 1782. Anton married his second wife in 1785 in Vienna: she was Maria Anna, Gräfin von Hohenfeld.
Count Nicholas Jr. (as I shall call him) had married Countess Maria Anna von Weissenwolf in August 1777, for which occasion Haydn had written the Goldoni opera Il mondo della luna.
Anton's son Nicholas married Marie Hermenegild von und zu Liechtenstein in 1784. He eventually became Nicholas II.
So, Anton, our current Prince, had a father, brother and son, all named Nicholas, and every woman in the house was named Marie or Maria. What could be confusing about that?
This child being taught by Pietro is the daughter of Nicholas Esterházy (Anton's brother) and Marie Anna von Weissenwolf. So Haydn used his long time connections to garner a job for his ward. And got his own wife to basically oversee his home life. This is all good, it seems.
So life is just humming along, students coming, modest fame even at home now. He was asked to compose dances for the Redoutensaal Christmas dance this year. This produced Twelve Minuets (Hob 09:11) and Twelve German Dances (Hob 09:12), the latter which Landon has postulated, with evidence, were by now danced as waltzes, almost the first we hear of that so Viennese dance! As with the majority of Haydn's dances, there are no recordings of the orchestral versions of the entire lot, although six of German Dances have seen daylight. However, Artaria's nearly simultaneous keyboard reductions have been done several times, and prove, yet again, no one writes a minuet like Haydn!
That is it for 1792. It has been an extraordinary year, beginning with mourning Mozart, warring with Pleyel, welcoming Beethoven, and now trying to calculate a way back to England for Salomon's Concert Series of 1793!
Thanks for reading!