The chief beauty of Haydn's work lies in its airs for the solo voices.

While never giving consummate expression to real and deep emotion, much less sustained thought, they are never wanting in sincerity, and the melody and the style are as pure and good as those of the best Italian writing for the stage. With all our advance it is impossible to resist the freshness of "With verdure clad," and the tender charm of such settings as that of "Softly purling, glides on, thro' silent vales, the limpid brook." On the whole, however, it is difficult to sum up a work like "The Creation," unless, as has been cynically remarked, one is prepared to call it great and never go to hear it. It is not sublime, but neither is it dull. In another fifty years, perhaps, the critic will be able to say that its main interest is largely historic and literary.

[See J. F. Runciman's Old Scores and New Readings, where an admirably just and concise appreciation of Haydn and "The Creation" may be read.]

A New Work

After such an unexpected success as that of "The Creation," it was only in the nature of things that Haydn's friends should persuade him to undertake the composition of a second work of the kind. Van Swieten was insistent, and the outcome of his importunity was "The Seasons." This work is generally cla.s.sed as an oratorio, but it ought more properly to be called a cantata, being essentially secular as regards its text, though the form and style are practically the same as those of "The Creation." The libretto was again due to Swieten, who, of course, adapted the text from James Thomson's well-known poem.

"The Seasons"

It would certainly have been a pity to lose such a fresh, melodious little work as "The Seasons"; but it is only too apparent that while there was no appreciable failure of Haydn's creative force, his physical strength was not equal to the strain involved by a composition of such length. In 1806, when Dies found him rather weaker than usual, he dolorously remarked: "You see it is all over with me. Eight years ago it was different, but 'The Seasons' brought on this weakness. I ought never to have undertaken that work. It gave me the finishing stroke."

He appears to have started on the work with great reluctance and with considerable distrust of his own powers, but once fairly committed to the undertaking he entered into it with something of his old animation, disputing so manfully with his librettist over certain points in the text that a serious rupture between the two was at one time imminent.

The subject was probably not very congenial to Haydn, who, as the years advanced, was more and more inclined towards devotional themes. That at least seems to be the inference to be drawn from the remark which he made to the Emperor Francis on being asked which of his two oratorios he himself preferred. "'The Creation,'" answered Haydn. "In 'The Creation'

angels speak and their talk is of G.o.d; in 'The Seasons' no one higher speaks than Farmer Simon."

"The Seasons" criticized

But whether he liked the theme or not, in the end he produced a work as fresh and genial and melodious as if it had been the work of his prime.

If anyone sees in it an evidence of weakness, he is seeing only what he had expected to see. As Mr Rockstro remarks, not a trace of the "failing power" of which the grand old man complained is to be found in any part of it. It is a model of descriptive, contemplative work, and must please by its thoughtful beauty and ill.u.s.trative power. True to Nature in its minutest details, it yet never insults her by trivial attempts at outward imitation where artistic suggestion of the hidden truth was, possible. The "delicious softness" of the opening chorus, and the perfection of rustic happiness portrayed in the song which describes the joy of the "impatient husbandman" are alone sufficient to prove that, whatever he may have thought about it himself, Haydn's genius was not appreciably waning.

The first performance of "The Seasons" took place at the Schwartzenburg Palace on the 24th of April 1801. It was repeated twice within a week; and on the 29th of May the composer conducted a grand public performance at the Redoutensaal. The work proved almost as successful as "The Creation." Haydn was enraptured with it, but he was never really himself again. As he said, it gave him the finishing stroke.

CHAPTER VIII. LAST YEARS

Failing Strength--Last Works--A Scottish Admirer--Song Accompaniments--Correspondence with George Thomson--Mrs Jordan--A Hitch--A "Previous" Letter of Condolence--Eventide--Last Public Appearance--The End--Funeral Honours--Desecration of Remains.

Failing Strength

Little is left to be told of the years which followed the production of "The Seasons." Haydn never really recovered from the strain which that last great effort of his genius had entailed. From his letters and the reminiscences of his friends we can read only too plainly the story of his growing infirmity. Even in 1799 he spoke of the diminution of his mental powers, and exclaimed: "Oh, G.o.d! how much yet remains to be done in this splendid art, even by a man like myself!" In 1802 he wrote of himself as "a gradually decaying veteran," enjoying only the feeble health which is "the inseparable companion of a gray-haired man of seventy." In December 1803 he made his last public exertion by conducting the "Seven Words" for the hospital fund at the Redoutensaal, and shortly afterwards wrote sadly of his "very great weakness." In 1804 he was asked to direct a performance of "The Creation," but declined on the score of failing strength. Gradually he withdrew himself almost entirely from the outside world, his general languor broken only by the visits of friends and by moods of pa.s.sing cheerfulness. Cherubini, the Abbe Vogler, Pleyel, the Weber family, Hummel, Reichardt, and many others came to see him. Visits from members of the Esterhazy family gave him much pleasure. Mozart's widow also brought her son Wolfgang, to beg his blessing on the occasion of his first public concert in April 1805, for which he had composed a cantata in honour of Haydn's seventy-third birthday. But the homage of friends and admirers could not strengthen the weak hands or confirm the feeble knees. In 1806 Dies notes that his once-gleaming eye has become dull and heavy and his complexion sallow, while he suffers from "headache, deafness, forgetfulness and other pains." His old gaiety has completely gone, and even his friends have become a bore to him. "My remaining days," he said to Dies, "must all be spent in this lonely fashion.... I have many visitors, but it confuses me so much to talk to them that at last I scarcely know what I am saying and only long to be left in peace." The condition of a man of naturally genial and optimistic temperament can easily be imagined from all this--perhaps even more from the fact of his having a card printed to hand to inquirers who called, bearing the words:

Hin ist alle meine Kraft; Alt and schwach bin ich.

[Fled for ever is my strength; Old and weak am I.]

Last Works

But while Haydn was thus suffering from the natural disabilities of his years, he was not wholly divorced from his art. It is true that nothing of any real importance came from his pen after "The Seasons," but a good deal of work of various kinds was done, some of which it is impossible for the biographer to ignore. One rather novel undertaking carries us back to the end of 1799, about which time he was first asked by George Thomson, the friend of Burns, to write accompaniments for certain Scottish songs to be published in Thomson's well-known national collections. The correspondence which followed is interesting in many ways, and as it is not noticed in any other biography of Haydn, we propose to deal with it here. [The letters pa.s.sed through the present writer's hands some five years ago, when he was preparing his Life of George Thomson(1898). They are now in the British Museum with the other Thomson correspondence.]

A Scottish Admirer

George Thomson engaged at one time or other the services of Beethoven, Pleyel, Weber, Hummel, Bishop and Kozeluch. But Haydn was his first love. A genius of the kind, he writes in 1811 "never before existed and probably never will be surpa.s.sed." He is "the inimitable Haydn," the "delectable," the "father of us all," and so on. On the other hand, Haydn was proud of what he did for Thomson. "I boast of this work," he said, "and by it I flatter myself my name will live in Scotland many years after my death." Nay, if we may trust an authority cited by Thomson, so highly did he think of "the symphonies and accompaniments which he composed for my melodies as to have the original score of each framed and hung all over the walls of his bedroom." Little wonder that Thomson "loved the dear old man" and regretted that his worldly circ.u.mstances did not allow him to erect a statue to the composer at his own expense!

We have called this writing of symphonies and accompaniments for George Thomson a novel undertaking. It was, however, only novel in the sense of being rather out of Haydn's special "line." He had already been employed on work of the kind for the collection of William Napier, to which he contributed the accompaniments of 150 songs. Later on, too (in 1802-1803), he harmonized and wrote accompaniments for sixty-five airs, for which he received 500 florins from Whyte of Edinburgh. The extent of his labours for George Thomson we shall now proceed to show.

Song Accompaniments

Thomson addressed his first letter to Haydn in October 1799. There is no copy of it, but there is a copy of a letter to Mr Straton, a friend of Thomson's, who was at this time Secretary to the Legation at Vienna.

Straton was to deliver the letter to Haydn, and negotiate with him on Thomson's behalf. He was authorized to "say whatever you conceive is likely to produce compliance," and if necessary to "offer a few more ducats for each air." The only stipulation was that Haydn "must not speak of what he gets." Thomson does not expect that he will do the accompaniments better than Kozeluch--"that is scarcely possible"(!); but in the symphonies he will be "great and original." Thomson, as we now learn from Straton, had offered 2 ducats for each air (say 20s.); Haydn "seemed desirous of having rather more than 2 ducats, but did not precisely insist upon the point." Apparently he did not insist, for the next intimation of the correspondence is to the effect that thirty-two airs which he had just finished had been forwarded to Thomson on June 19, 1800. They would have been done sooner, says Straton, but "poor Haydn laboured under so severe an illness during the course of this spring that we were not altogether devoid of alarm in regard to his recovery." Thomson, thus encouraged, sent sixteen more airs; and Straton writes (April 30, 1801) that Haydn at first refused to touch them because the price paid was too low. But in the course of conversation Straton learnt that Haydn was writing to Thomson to ask him to procure a dozen India handkerchiefs, and it struck him that "your making him a present of them might mollify the veteran into compliance respecting the sixteen airs." Straton therefore took upon himself to promise in Thomson's name that the handkerchiefs would be forthcoming, and "this had the desired effect to such a degree that Haydn immediately put the sixteen airs in his pocket, and is to compose the accompaniments as soon as possible on the same terms as the former."

Mrs Jordan

The handkerchiefs duly arrived--"nice and large"--and Haydn made his acknowledgments in appropriate terms. At the same time (in January 1802) he wrote: "I send you with this the favourite air 'The Blue Bells of Scotland,' and I should like that this little air should be engraved all alone and dedicated in my name as a little complimentary gift to the renowned Mrs Jordan, whom, without having the honour of knowing, I esteem extremely for her great virtue and reputation." Mrs Jordan has been credited with the air of "The Blue Bells of Scotland." She certainly popularized the song, whether it was her own or not. In the note just quoted Haydn must have used the term "virtue" in the Italian sense.

A Hitch

After this a little hitch occurred in the Thomson correspondence.

Haydn, being asked by Whyte, the publisher of a rival collection, to do something for his work, at once agreed. Thomson, not unnaturally, perhaps, felt hurt. He made his complaint through Mr Straton's successor at the Emba.s.sy, Mr Charles Stuart; and in August 1803 Stuart writes to say that he had broached the matter to Haydn "in as delicate terms as possible for fear he might take offence." Haydn frankly admitted that he had done the accompaniments for Whyte, but said the airs were different from those he had done for Thomson. After "a long conversation, he informed me," says Mr Stuart, "that being now seventy-four years of age and extremely infirm, he found himself wholly incapable of further application to study; that he must therefore beg leave to decline all offers, whether on your part or from any other person whatsoever. He even declared that notwithstanding the repeated requests of Prince Esterhazy, he felt himself utterly incapable of finishing several pieces of music he had undertaken, and being possessed of a competency he desired nothing so much as to pa.s.s the short time he has yet to live in repose and quiet." From this letter we learn that Thomson had unluckily sent a present of a handkerchief for Frau Haydn, who had now been dead for three years!

A "Previous" Letter of Condolence

In spite of the little misunderstanding just referred to Haydn was brought round once more, and on the 20th of December 1803 Thomson sends twenty-four airs, "which will most certainly be the last." Haydn's work delights him so much that he "really cannot bear the idea of seeking an inferior composer to finish a work already so nearly finished by you."

He would pay 4 ducats for each air rather than have the mortification of a refusal. After this there is little of interest to note in the correspondence, unless it be a very "previous" letter of condolence which Thomson sent to Vienna. A false rumour had reached him that Haydn was dead. The following extract from a note which Haydn dictated to be sent to the friend who received Thomson's letter will explain the matter:

Kindly say to Mr Thomson that Haydn is very sensible of the distress that the news of his alleged death has caused him, and that this sign of affection has added, if that were possible, to the esteem and friendship he will always entertain for Mr Thomson. You will notice that he has put his name and the date on the sheet of music to give better proof that he is still on this nether world. He begs you at the same time to be kind enough to have Mr Thomson's letter of condolence copied and to send him the copy.

Haydn's experience in this way was perhaps unique. Burney says he was reported dead in 1778; and the false rumour which reached Thomson in 1805 led Cherubini to compose a sacred cantata for three voices and orchestra, which was duly performed in Paris when his death actually occurred.

Haydn furnished in all some 250 airs with symphonies and accompaniments for Thomson. In the packet of letters from the composer, docketed by Thomson himself, the latter has placed a slip of paper indicating the various payments he had made. According to this statement Haydn had 291 pounds, 18s. for his work from first to last--not by any means an insignificant sum to make out of a side branch of his art.

Eventide

This interesting correspondence takes us up to the year 1806, by which time Haydn's work was entirely over. His eventide, alas! was darkened by the clouds of war. The wave of the French Revolution had cast its b.l.o.o.d.y spray upon the surrounding nations, and 1805 saw the composer's beloved Vienna occupied by the French. Haydn was no politician, but love of country lay deep down in his heart, and he watched the course of events, from his little cottage, with the saddest forebodings.

The Last Public Appearance

Once only was he drawn from his seclusion. This was on the 27th of March 1808, when he appeared in public for the last time at a performance of "The Creation" at the University. The scene on this remarkable occasion has been described by many pens. Naumann, writing of it, says that "such an apotheosis of the master was witnessed as has but few parallels," and this is no exaggeration. The performance, which was under the direction of Salieri, had been arranged in honour of his approaching seventy-sixth birthday. All the great artists of Vienna were present, among them Beethoven and Hummel. Prince Esterhazy had sent his carriage to bring the veteran to the hall, and, as he was being conveyed in an arm-chair to a place among the princes and n.o.bles, the whole audience rose to their feet in testimony of their regard. It was a cold night, and ladies sitting near swathed him in their costly wraps and lace shawls. The concert began, and the audience was hushed to silence. When that magnificent pa.s.sage was reached, "And there was light," they burst into loud applause, and Haydn, overcome with excitement, exclaimed, "Not I, but a Power from above created that." The performance went on, but it proved too much for the old man, and friends arranged to take him home at the end of the first part. As he was being carried out, some of the highest of the land crowded round to take what was felt to be a last farewell; and Beethoven, forgetting incidents of early days, bent down and fervently kissed his hand and forehead. Having reached the door, Haydn asked his bearers to pause and turn him towards the orchestra.

Then, lifting his hand, as if in the act of blessing, he was borne out into the night.

Next year Vienna was bombarded by the French, and a cannon-ball fell not far from Haydn's house. He was naturally much alarmed; but there is no ground for the statement, sometimes made, that his death was hastened by the fright. On the contrary, he called out to his servants, who were a.s.sisting him to dress: "Children, don't be frightened; no harm can happen to you while Haydn is here."

The End

But his days were numbered. "This miserable war has cast me down to the very ground," he would say, with tears in his eyes. And yet it was a French officer who last visited him on his death-bed, the city being then actually occupied by the enemy. The officer's name is not given, but he sang "In native worth" with such expression that Haydn was quite overcome, and embraced him warmly at parting. On May 26 he seems to have felt that his end was fast approaching. He gathered his household around him, and, being carried to the piano, at his own special request, played the Emperor's Hymn three times over, with an emotion that fairly overpowered himself and all who heard him. Five days later, on the 31st of May 1809, he breathed his last.

Funeral services were held in all the churches, and on June 15 Mozart's Requiem was given in his honour at the Scots Church, when several generals and administrators of the French army were present. Many poems were also written in his praise.

Haydn was buried as a private individual in the Hundsthurm Churchyard, which was just outside the lines, and close to the suburb of Gumpendorf, where he had lived. The grave remained entirely undistinguished till 1814--another instance of Vienna's neglect--when Haydn's pupil, Chevalier Neukomm, erected a stone bearing the following inscription, which contains a five-part canon for solution:

HAYDN

NATUS MDCCx.x.xIII. OBIIT MDCCCIX.

CAN. AENIGM. QUINQUE. VOC.

[figure: a musical score excerpt to the syllables non om - nis mo - ri - ar]

D. D. D.