he retention of Joseph
Werner was presumably due to the thoughtful kindness of his noble
patron, but it was bound to lead to awkward situations. Werner had
served the Esterhazys for thirty-two years, and could not be expected
to placidly accept his supersession by a young and as yet almost unknown
musician. True, he was not a very distinguished man himself. He had
composed a large amount of music, chiefly sacred, including thirty-nine
masses and twelve "Oratorios for Good Friday," besides some grotesque
pieces intended as burlesques of the musical life of Vienna. Not one of
his works has any real musical value; but, as is usually the case with
the talent which stops short of genius, he thought a great deal of
himself, and was inclined to look down upon Haydn as an interloper,
unskilled in that rigid counterpoint which was the "heaven's law" of the
old-time composer. Indeed, he described his associate as "a mere fop"
and "a scribbler of songs."

A Posthumous Tribute

It is but fair to Haydn to say that, if he did not suffer his nominal
superior gladly, he at least treated him with respect and a certain
deference. He did more. Werner died in 1766, having thus seen only five
years of the new order of things, but Haydn's regard for his memory was
such that, so late as 1804, he published six of his fugues arranged as
string quartets, "out of sincere esteem for this celebrated master."
A kindness of heart and a total absence of professional jealousy
characterized Haydn throughout his whole career, and never more than in
this action.

Esterhazy "the Magnificent"

The composer had been rather less than a twelvemonth in his service when
Prince Paul Anton died on the 18th of March 1762. He was succeeded by
his brother Nicolaus, a sort of glorified "Grand Duke" of Chandos, who
rejoiced in the soubriquet of "The Magnificent." He loved ostentation
and glitter above all things, wearing at times a uniform bedecked with
diamonds. But he loved music as well. More, he was a performer
himself, and played the baryton, a stringed instrument not unlike the
viola-da-gamba, in general use up to the end of the eighteenth century.
Haydn naturally desired to please his prince, and being perpetually
pestered to provide new works for the noble baryton player, he thought
it would flatter him if he himself learnt to handle the baryton. This
proved an unfortunate misreading of "The Magnificent's" character, for
when Haydn at length made his debut