I end every essay with "Thanks for reading!". Why? Every June, when the anniversary of beginning this blog rolls around, I stop and consider what modest aspirations I had for it when I was contemplating spending such a great amount of time (and money!) writing a blog which I thought no one but me would read anyway. Now it has been five years this week, and over 57,000 people have viewed these pages, a figure which I never suspected when I started explaining how Hoboken was arranged, or figuring out the chronology of the keyboard works well enough to try to explain it to strangers. So when I write "Thanks for reading!", you can be sure it is heartfelt and that since I make no income from these pages, the fact that many new Haydn admirers have been influenced by what I have said here is sufficient to keep me going right through to the end.
A little while ago, we looked at the big events of 1797. It was an historically momentous year which saw the rise of Napoleon from a newly appointed general at the end of 1795 to being one of the most powerful persons in the Republic by the end of 1797.
Haydn's musical output continued unabated. The National Anthem in its various forms, a series of minuets to show how life went on, even during wartime, a fiery motet to enhance the bellicose mass setting of the previous year and the soon to be one of next year. And finally, the most highly regarded complete set of string quartets he ever composed. Before we leave this year, there are a few other people and events, both in Europe as a whole and in Haydn's life, which we need to see.
Within a couple of years, we will see the beginning of the era of Griesinger and Dies, the two biographers who would be with Haydn until the end of his life, and leave behind the two smallish books which give us the great majority of (relatively) accurate information we now have about him. But with them not on the scene yet, and Haydn now living in Vienna, the numbers of letters he wrote plummeted, so how do we know anything at all about him?
There were likely to be many people then, as now, who would attach themselves to celebrity when it offered. And Haydn was, by now, as big as celebrity got for a non-royal. But it takes a fortuitous combination of circumstances for documents to not only be created, but to survive and to present credible evidence as long as 220 years later. And we are fortunate to have two young men who met these conditions, Frederik Silverstolpe and Joseph Carl Rosenbaum.
Frederik Silverstolpe was born in Stockholm in 1769 and died in the same city in 1851. …. Silverstolpe studied architecture in his youth but also cultivated an interest in music, which was nourished by his acquaintance with the thirteen-years-older hovkapellmästare (conductor of the Royal Court Orchestra) Joseph Martin Kraus [NB – he took music lessons from Kraus until the latter's death in 1792 – MPMcC.]. At age twenty-seven Silverstolpe was appointed to be the chargé d'affaires at the Swedish embassy in Vienna. There he met, among others, the French Republic's envoy, Marshal Bernadotte, who would later be appointed as Sweden's new king.
….During his time in Vienna, Silverstolpe maintained regular contact with Joseph Haydn, to whom he introduced Johan Wikmanson's music. Haydn returned the favour by allowing Silverstolpe to take part in his not-yet-performed oratorio The Creation, which Silverstolpe translated into Swedish for the first performance in Stockholm in 1801, only two years after the Vienna premiere…
Ulrik Volgsten www.swedishmusicalheritage.com
We have already seen some valuable information about Haydn from Silverstolpe's pen. Little bits such as this one:
[Letter home by Frederik Silverstolpe, Swedish Diplomat- in Swedish]
14 June 1797
…a few days ago I went to see Haydn again, who now lives right next to me, since he gave up his customary winter and spring lodgings in one of the suburbs [NB – Gumpendorf], and moved a whole quarter-of-a-mile away [from me]. On this occasion, he played to me, on the piano, violin quartets which a certain Count [Joseph] Erdödy has ordered from him and which may be printed only after a certain number of years. These are more than masterly and full of new thoughts. While he played he let me sit beside him and see how he divided the various parts of the score. Moreover, he sang some arias for me [NB - from the Mehrstimmige Gesänge] which he intends to issue by subscription when their number reaches 24….
This was our first clue about the existence of both the Opus 76 Quartets and the songs in three and four parts. It is the biographical information that I find most interesting. Silverstolpe gives us a good feeling for the personality of the people he is talking about. Thus we see in his first meeting with Haydn:
[Letter home by Frederik Silverstolpe, Swedish Diplomat – in Swedish]
1 April 1797
…last Monday there was a grand concert at Prince Schwarzenberg's which I attended. It was an oratorio by the famous Händel called Acis and Galatea. Certainly among the finest things I have ever heard. – There I made Haydn's acquaintance, and since then I have kept it going by paying him a visit. He is a modest man and does not receive compliments gladly. His looks are speculative [NB – 'thoughtful'], but not so much as one would expect. On 7 April I will hear another concert there, which Haydn will conduct. He made me promise to come when I said what a pleasure it had been for me to hear his so-called 7 [Last] Words. "I could never praise myself", said he, "but as far as that work goes, it is not without merit". He asked me if I knew [Joseph Martin] Kraus, who was supposed to have been in Sweden and died there. He said "I own a symphony by him [in c minor], which I preserve as the work of a man of great genius".
Silverstolpe will be in Vienna for a few more years, and provide us with more valuable information from this time period than any other single character in Haydn's circle. We hear from him as late as 1806 when Haydn writes him a thank you note for some Russian tea, since he was now the chargé d'affaires of the Swedish embassy in St. Petersburg, Russia. Even then we will learn something new and valuable, but that's for the future…
Silverstolpe was not the only intimate of Haydn who contributes to our knowledge of him. Joseph Carl Rosenbaum (1770-1829) was the Controller of Stabling Accounts for Count Carl Esterházy (NOT Prince Nicholas!). Since Haydn spent a fair portion of his year at Eisenstadt, as long as June through October some years, that part of his life would have been shrouded in even more mystery had it not been for Rosenbaum. For he provides us with the best of all things, something I have complained about regularly in these pages: he kept a diary, and a good one too! Thus we get valuable bits and pieces of information to fill in the big picture, like this for what may well have been the première of Opus 76:
[Diary of Joseph Carl Rosenbaum]
Thurs., 28th September, '797 (Eisenstadt]
The [town dignitaries] went into the small hall, where they were received by the Viceroy who thanked them for the particular attentions which had been paid him. New quartets by Haydn were played, [one of them] based on the song Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser…
What we get more than anything else from Rosenbaum's diaries is a feeling of actually being there and seeing/hearing what life was like in those last hectic days before Napoleon controlled Europe, and Austria emerged from the wars in 1815 as a totally new country. Thus we see this crunchy little tidbit, again with a bit of invaluable Haydn info:
[Diary of Joseph Carl Rosenbaum]
Sun., 10th September, '797 (Eisenstadt)
For the Feast of St. Mary, we had a new Mass, the music by [Johann Nepomuk] Fuchs, also a new chorus by Joseph Haydn ; Baroness Walterskirchen sang an aria. At mid-day a banquet, vespers later in the afternoon, then Turkish Music on the square. In the evening, fireworks by the Princely Fireworks Master, Wiener, then illumination of the castle, garden and town; finally a ball in the grand hall, lasting until 4 AM. The company numbered 800…
So we can finally pin a date on Insanae et Vanae Curae. On such details hangs a wealth of knowledge.
The parties which Nicholas I threw at Eszterháza were a high standard for Nicholas II to meet at Eisenstadt (Kismarton), but he did his level best, and in harder times, too. The fine book, The Magnificence of Eszterháza by Mátyás Horányi, which has served as an indispensable reference for every writer from the 1950's forward, also relied on Rosenbaum's diary for some of its information of this time period.
Life in autumn, 1797, was again full of activities in the castle of Kismarton. The Empress paid a visit to Eszterhaza and Kismarton on 19th August. The palace and the park [NB – Gardens] of Kismarton were festively illuminated, and fireworks were arranged in the evening on the 9th and 10th September in honor of Princess Maria. [snip]
A shooting party in honor of the guests who had arrived in the suite of Palatine Archduke Joseph was arranged on 26th September, while, according to Rosenbaum's diary, Marinelli's ensemble presented the comedy Der reisende Student in the evening. The performance was followed by Vigano's ballet Pygmalion with the participation of the author himself. The day concluded with a fancy-dress ball and a splendid illumination attended by 1,200 guests.
Hunting, balls, festive illuminations and concerts were arranged for the entertainment of the guests on 27th and 28th. Female singers were brought from Pozsony for the concert on the 28th (Rosenbaum).
The Magnificence of Eszterháza by Mátyás Horányi – page 166-8
All of this seems so much like business as usual that we can almost forget, as I am sure they were trying to do, that Napoleon was, even then, right on the verge of Vienna, and the Imperials were actually out in the hinterlands hiding out from the French forces. I'm sure it was no hardship for them to be forced into the arms of the Esterházy's.
Joseph Carl Rosenbaum | Therese Gaßmann Rosenbaum - in her famous role as the Queen of the Night in Mozart's 'The Magic Flute' |
[Diary of Joseph Carl Rosenbaum]
Thurs. 28th September, '797 (Eisenstadt)
…two choral singers arrived from Pressburg : Anna Rhumfeld, a soprano, and Frl. (Josepha) Hammer, an alto…
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Fri., 29th September, '797 (Eisenstadt)
…A new Mass in C by Haydn was performed ; both women sang and were very successful…
So finally we get to hear the Missa in Tempore Belli at home! The ladies 'imported from Pressburg' must have impressed, since they were both hired on for the long term. But it wasn't these ladies who really made a hit with Rosenbaum. Haydn had been planning a performance of the choral version of the 7 Last Words, and to insure success, he imported a soprano from Vienna, Therese Gaßmann. She was the daughter of the late Court Composer, Florian Gaßmann, who was the shining star of Vienna music in the late 1760's and early 1770's. Among his other accomplishments, in 1771 he founded the Tonkünstler-Societät, which we have seen much of and will certainly see again. Their concert series to benefit the widows and orphans of deceased musicians were the mainstay of Vienna musical life for decades. As far as Rosenbaum was concerned, though, his main accomplishment was fathering Therese, who was a star in Vienna, and who bowled him over, apparently. Enough so they were married in 1800.
The same Gardens pictured at the top by Dies
The Enlightenment's Last Gasp
The ideas of the French philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712 – 1778) had a major influence on the landscape garden, and he himself was buried in the first important such garden in France, at Ermenonville. Rousseau wrote in 1762, on the "nobility of nature": "Everything is good when it leaves the hand of the creator"; "Everything degenerates in Man's hands." In his novel La Nouvelle Héloise Rousseau imagined a perfect landscape, where people could be true to themselves.
Wikipedia [Article - The French Landscape Garden]
Historians generally agree that the French Revolution and its Napoleonic aftermath mark the end of the Age of Enlightenment. As we have seen several times, this was the era which spawned Haydn, as well as the entire Classic school. As Reason gave way to Romanticism at the turn of the century, it brought many changes.
17th and 18th century philosophy was still rooted in religion, with notions of equality, individuality and liberty that were largely metaphysical. The 19th century, however, marked the beginning of the end for Enlightenment-era metaphysics. Colonialism and exposure to other cultures, industrialization and its abuses, the rise of science and scientific materialism, the appearance of full-blown capitalism: all of these things began tearing apart the 18th century ideals of how the world worked, because the 18th century ideals were all constructed around a concept of an individual which was uniformly genteel, property-owning, European-descended, and male. Ted Wrigley
Haydn had been employed by the standard bearers of this archetype for most of his life. Now, his last prince, Nicholas II, showed that he hadn't fallen far from the tree when it came to following in the artistic footsteps of his forbears. While he may be less highly thought of due to his ambivalence about music, or his seriously debauched lifestyle, it would be grossly unfair to say he didn't love art or share the Enlightenment appreciation of nature. There is some element of irony in the discovery that Rousseau, the same French philosopher whose book The Social Contract is credited with eventually providing the justification for the French Revolution to occur, was an intellectual influence on Prince Nicholas, one of those fighting most strongly against its inevitable consequence, the rise of Napoleon and the eventual end of the aristocratic way of life.
Rousseau's romantic sentimental longing for nature was an influence for the emergence of a new movement called Romanticism around the end of the eighteenth century and the beginning of the nineteenth century, as another reaction against the Enlightenment. It was especially in Germany that this movement, with its emphasis upon imagination, spontaneity, and passion, flourished in the fields such as literature and art.
New World Encyclopedia – Article The Age of Enlightenment
In 1791 Haydn went to Oatlands, the estate home of the Duke of York. The grotto in the gardens was famous, and served as a model for other garden structures throughout Europe. In 1797, when he arrived in Eisenstadt for the late summer festivities, he must have been struck with a bit of nostalgia when he saw the Leopoldine Temple. Here is a description from the Eisenstadt web page:
Nicholas II Prince Esterházy was a devotee of Jean-Jacques Rousseau and an advocate of the "natural-style" garden. In 1797 he commissioned his head gardener, Matthias Pölt, with the alterations on the garden complex that had been set up by Paul II Anton. The Leopoldine Temple is artistically speaking the most admirable scenic element in the palace park. It is built on top of an artificial rocky rise. A waterfall springs out of the gorge next to it and flows into a pond, and a path leads through the artificial rocks to the temple, which houses a statue of Princess Leopoldine Esterházy made of Carrara marble by the Italian sculptor Antonio Canova. The temple is a sentimental token of Nicholas II's feeling towards his beloved daughter Leopoldine.
Nicholas II Esterházy | Marie Hermenegild Liechtenstein Esterházy by August Friedrich Oelenhainz |
So there were certain amenities available to Haydn, perhaps not as many as when he worked for Nicholas I, but life as a trophy composer had its ups and downs. Having been brought up on noble privilege, Nicholas hadn't yet got past the feeling of superiority which privilege bestows. And so he used the most common terms of speech with Haydn, addressing him in the 3rd person for example, as one does a servant. But Haydn was having none of that. He was, after all, a Doctor of Music from Oxford, invited to British citizenship by none other than the King of England. He corrected Nicholas and firmly demanded to be given respect. Carl Ferdinand Pohl, the 19th century's Robbins Landon, relates that Haydn was rehearsing the orchestra when the Prince came in and began criticizing them. Haydn, in front of everyone, stopped him and said 'Sire, that is MY job'. Needless to say, these head-butting sessions were not what the Prince thought he had bargained for. But as I told you when we looked at her sonatas, a wedding gift from Haydn, Princess Marie Hermenegild von und zu Liechtenstein (und Esterházy) became his friend for life. However she managed it, she kept the relationship not only stable, but gradually growing stronger, right up until Haydn's death.
The Treaty of Campo Formio – 17 October 1797
His Majesty the Emperor of the Romans, King of Hungary and of Bohemia, and the French Republic, wishing to consolidate the peace of which the foundations were laid in the preliminaries signed at the château of Ekenwald near Léoben in Styria, April 18, 1797 (29 Germinal, Year V, of the French Republic, one and indivisible), have appointed for their Plenipotentiaries, to wit:
There shall be for the future and forever a firm and inviolable peace between His Majesty the Emperor of the Romans, King of Hungary and of Bohemia, his heirs and successors, and the French Republic. . .
For a short while, peace broke out in Austria. Immediately after the treaty was signed, Napoleon packed his bags and headed back to France to prepare for the invasion of England, in the event, something which never happened. The Treaty of Campo Formio, which was neither firm nor inviolable, it seems, served to give some breathing room to both sides; the French consolidated their gains, the Austrians mourned their losses. The Peace would last until 1799, when Austria, now allied with Russia, was fully prepared to receive more abuse from the hands of the French Master. That is for the future, though.
What was Haydn doing all this while? We have seen the Opus 76 quartets already being played by mid-year, and of course the National Anthem was un fait accompli by February at latest. Setting new words to an old aria was the work of a just few days at most. The ever-busy Haydn had to have more going on than this. Well, of course he did!
In April of 1798, the world première of Haydn's most famous work would be staged in four private concerts in Vienna. Clearly, a work of this magnitude didn't appear in a few short months, not even with a Haydn at the helm! In fact, it took fully 18 months for Swieten to get his libretto prepared and Haydn to get the notes on paper. During the year 1797, Haydn frequently played bits and pieces of various parts for visitors, including Silverstolpe:
…soon Haydn let me hear the introduction of his oratorio, describing Chaos. He asked me to come sit beside him , so as to follow the score. When the piece ended, he said: 'You have certainly noticed how I avoided the resolutions that you would most readily expect. The reason is, that there is no form in anything yet.'. During the conversation which followed, I discovered in Haydn as it were two physiognomies. The one was penetrating and serious, when he talked about anything exalted [NB – could also mean 'sublime'], and only the expression 'exalted' was enough to show him visibly moved. In the next moment, this expression of exaltation was chased away, quick as lightning, from his every-day expression, and he became jovial, with a force which showed on his features and which then passed into waggishness. This was his usual physiognomy, the other had to be induced.
HCRL Chronicle & Works Vol IV - pg. 251
Where would we be without Silverstolpe? In any case, by the end of 1797, the entire first draft of The Creation was complete. We will look at it much more in-depth in the next essay (or two!). For now, we close the year 1797, which saw Haydn, already a star, innocently working along, preparing to go supernova!
Thanks for reading!
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Further Reading