Rita Dove’s Sonata

Walking the Road That Led Bridgetower to Haydn

These last weeks have opened a new chapter in my understanding of George Bridgetower’s plight — or saga — a chapter hidden between shifting borders and conveniently forgotten by most histories.

The official story says his father migrated with him and his brother Frederick Jr., eventually landing as musicians in the House of Esterházy, some 30 miles from Vienna. But nothing is ever said about why they would leave what some imagine as a cozy, romantic enclave in the heart of Galicia in the first place.

The “official story” assumes we will understand that a family of four in the 1780s simply packs up and leaves to find new horizons in a place as remote as Vienna. Why Vienna? And how, precisely, did they end up at Esterházy Palace receiving “free” lessons from Haydn — by then already universally admired?

Well… that version leaves too much to the imagination.

Biała, 1780: Far From Cozy

At the time of George’s birth (1780), Biała was anything but cozy. What we now call Poland was an ever-shrinking frontier, carved and recarved by the Partitions — Russia from the east, Austria from the south, Prussia from the west.

Biala, birthplace of George Bridgetower

The only surviving period home in Biala

Much of the same would happen again in the 20th century. My grandfather, born in Kamenets, Poland, was Polish, then Soviet, and ultimately Belarusian. History has a way of rehearsing itself.

In the late 1700s, however, the caravans passing through Biała were Russian, Prussian, and Austrian — with the occasional Turkish volunteer for good measure.

Rita Dove’s Sonata

A child such as George Bridgetower had no fixed nationality in the way we understand the term today. Nation-building was still a distant dream. We are closer to quantum computing today than Bridgetower ever was to having a nationality stamped on a passport.

The anxiety of any modestly educated family was directly proportional to the distance at which the next invading army had last been seen.

Southwest to Vienna

It was in this climate of uncertainty that George’s father, Friedrich Augustus Bridgetower — son of an African slave in the Caribbean and former servant in Central Europe — gathered his petates and his musically gifted children and began moving southwest.

If once all roads led to Rome, and today we might say they lead to New York, in the 1780s they certainly led to Vienna, rivaling only Paris and London in cultural gravity.

Frederick wasn’t just seeking safety; he was looking for what any musician in crisis seeks: patronage. Insofar as a family of musicians is concerned, patronage is a life vest — a place where prodigies could be cultivated and presented to aristocratic eyes.

Geopolitics pushed him forward; Vienna drew them in.

Haydn Enters the Picture

Based on the timeline, the Bridgetowers likely reached Vienna in the mid-1780s, precisely when Joseph Haydn — Kapellmeister at Esterházy — visited the capital regularly to purchase supplies, fabric for costumes, sets for his operas, and yes, to scout talent before other princes and dukes snapped it up.

It is not documented (not yet), but I suspect it was during one of these visits that Haydn met the Bridgetowers. And Haydn wasted no time. Prince Nikolaus, like most rulers of the day, required new spectacles and curiosities for his court. Mixed-race children, dwarfs, giants — you name it. Everything added to the spectacle.

Whether through recommendation, presentation, or fortunate encounter, the Bridgetowers were noticed, evaluated, and soon brought into the lavish, insular world of Esterházy Palace, where Haydn ruled over the musical life like an emperor within an empire.

And so the exodus from Biała ends in a gilded palace glowing with operas, masked balls, and the disciplined rigor of Haydn’s workshops.

On the road to the House of Esterházy is where George’s musical identity is forged — where the story of his journey truly begins. And to tell that story, following the verses of Sonata Mulattica, Rita Dove’s extraordinary collection of poems, I believe we should follow the same trajectory.

A Road Trip

At some point during the production of Sonata Mulattica in the Summer of 2026, William and I will begin preparing to retrace that journey from Biała to Vienna and on to Esterházy Palace, following the historical roads through Lublin, Kraków, and Slovakia.

Forchtenstein Castle in Forchtenstein, Austria

William — if I haven’t mentioned before — is my son, and he has already kept vigil over his arms in Japan and in Italy, forging his early craft much like a young knight awaiting his first true campaign.

Now upgraded to co-cinematographer on this journey, he will join me in Warsaw, where we will equip a rental jeep for the adventure. Cameras, maps, and Rita Dove’s Sonata in tow.

History becomes clearer when you walk it.

I’ve been doing that for many years.

And walk we shall!