aim is painting in water-colours. Water-colours are very useful to architects, and they make use of them; but because they do not rival Turner or David Cox it does not follow that they are not masters of the art of architecture. Haydn aimed at—or rather, at this epoch, groped after—a kind of music in which continuous melody expressive of genuine human feeling was the beginning and the end, and his mastery of counterpoint, harmony, and all technical devices were more than sufficient for the purpose.

To my mind he wrote as well for the strings at this time as ever he did. He could play the violin himself, as the violin was then played, and all his life, even in quartets, he had to write for players who would be considered tenth-rate to-day. As for orchestration, that was an art neither he nor Mozart was to hit upon for some time. The wind instruments had one principal function, and that was to fill in the music, enrich it, and make it louder, and another minor one—occasionally to put in solos. In writing suitably for them, and, in fact, in every other part of writing music for courts, Haydn was now the equal, if not the superior, of every man living in 1761 (Gluck did not write for the courts), and he was getting a better and better grip of his new idea.

CHAPTER IV

1761-1790

Haydn went to Eisenstadt, in Hungary, in 1761 to take up the duties of his new post—that of second Kapellmeister to Prince Anton of Esterhazy. In that year feudal Europe had not been shaken to the foundations by the French Revolution; few in Europe, indeed, and none in sleeping German Austria, dreamed that such a shaking was at hand, and that royal and ducal and lesser aristocratic heads, before the century was out, would be dear at two a penny. Those drowsy old courts—how charming they seem on paper, how fascinating as depicted by Watteau! Yet one wonders how in such an atmosphere any new plants of art managed to shoot at all. The punctilious etiquette, the wigs, the powder, the patches, the grandiloquent speechifyings, the stately bows and graceful curtsies, the prevalence—nay, the domination—of taste, what a business it all was! The small electors, seigneurs, dukes and what not imitated the archducal courts; the archdukes mimicked the imperial courts: all was stiff, stilted, unnatural to a degree that seems to us nowadays positively soul-killing, devilish. But some surprising plants grew up, some wondrous fruits ripened in them. A peasant-mind, imbued with peasant-songs, was set in one; the peasant-mind in all outward matters conformed to all the rules, and was loved by the petty princes to whom it was never other than highly, utterly respectful, and lo! the peasant-songs blew and blossomed into gigantic art forms, useful to the composers who came in a time when feudalism was as clean swept away as the wigs and patches that were its insignia. To change this rather too eloquent trope, Haydn, living a life of deadly routine and dulness, duly subservient to his divinely appointed betters, took the songs of the people (who paid to keep the whole apparatus in working order), and out of them built up what is the basis of all the music written since. If Providence in very deed ordained that millions of men and women should toil that a few small electors, dukes and princes should lead lives of unhappy artificial luxury, then Providence did well at the same time to arrange for a few counts such as Morzin, and princes like those of Esterhazy.

Haydn's chief in musical affairs was old Werner. His salary was at first £40, and he was passing rich on it; and it was soon raised to £79. We need trouble no further as to whether on such wages he was poor or rich: he evidently considered himself well-to-do. In fact, even in those days, when copyright practically did not exist, he continually made respectable sums by his compositions, and after he had been twice to England, ever the Hesperides' Garden of the German musician, he was a wealthy man, and was thankful for it. He was as keen at driving a bargain as Handel, or as the mighty Beethoven himself, and we, too, ought to be glad that he had a talent for getting money and keeping it.

The date of his appointment was May 1, 1761; but he had been at work less than a year when Prince Anton died, March 18, 1762. Anton was succeeded by his brother Nicolaus, surnamed or nicknamed the Magnificent, and in truth a most lordly creature. Almost immediately changes began. Eisenstadt did not content Nicolaus; Versailles was the admiration of all Europe, and he determined to rival Versailles. The building was begun at Süttör, a place at the southern end of Neusiedler-See, of the palace of Esterház, and it was here that Haydn was destined to write the bulk of his music, though not that on which his fame depends to-day. Meanwhile, at Eisenstadt he was kept busy enough. It is true he was second to Werner, but Werner was both old and old-fashioned, and devoted himself entirely to the chapel services and music, leaving Haydn to look after the incessant concerts—each of them interminable, as was the fashion then—the cantatas, instrumental pieces, operas and operettas. Werner thought little of Haydn: he regarded him as an adventurer and musical frivol; but Haydn, as became the bigger man, esteemed Werner. There does not seem to have been any friction; Haydn was always shrewd enough to avoid friction, which means wasted energy, and the problem, if problem it was, of double mastership was solved by Werner's death on March 5, 1766. Henceforth Haydn was alone and supreme.

Haydn's magnificent patron and master played the baryton, and it was one of his duties to write pieces for it. Of these there remain many, mostly uninteresting. It was always his avowed aim to please his patron—that done he was satisfied; but in an evil hour he thought to please him better by learning to play the baryton—a singular bit of short-sightedness on Haydn's part. He quickly discovered his error: Prince Nicolaus liked the instrument best when played by princely hands in the princely manner. Haydn limited himself for the future to writing for it. With his band, we are told, he got on excellently, and what with rehearsing them and conducting them and composing, every hour of the day brought its task. The band consisted at the beginning of sixteen chosen players, but the number was increased afterwards. The only events in his life were the smaller or larger fêtes for which he prepared the music. For instance, in 1763 Anton, the son of Nicolaus, was married, and Haydn composed a pastoral, Acis and Galatea, which was duly performed. Again, in 1764 Prince Nicolaus attended the coronation of the Archduke Joseph; his return was one of these events, and to celebrate it Haydn wrote a grand cantata. A Life of him at this period would be a list of his compositions, with a few notes about the occasions that prompted them. Such a list I am not minded to prepare. The publishers' catalogues exist, and as for the various fêtes, one was very much like another; and those folk who do not find accounts of them insufferably tedious can find out about them in one of the larger biographies.

In 1767 the Prince, Haydn, band and all, took up their residence at the palace of Esterház. A few singers and players were left at Eisenstadt to keep up the chapel services, and doubtless had an easy time; the rest were worked almost to death. Esterház was a gorgeous, if solitary, residence. Built on a morass far from the busy world, it was the scene of constant hospitality and great functions. There were two theatres—one, as I understand the matter, entirely for marionette shows; the scenery was regarded at the time as excellent. Most of the operas were sung in Italian by Italian singers; even books of the words were printed. In short, the opera at the Palace of Esterház seems to have been in no respect very different from the fashionable opera of to-day. Singers were engaged for a year or a longer period; casual artists called, and were engaged