Salomon sent advance notices of the engagement to London, and on the 30th of December the public were informed through the Morning Chronicle that, immediately on his arrival with his distinguished guest, "Mr Salomon would have the honour of submitting to all lovers of music his programme for a series of subscription concerts, the success of which would depend upon their support and approbation." Before leaving for London Haydn had a tiff with the King of Naples, Ferdinand IV, who was then in Vienna. The composer had taken him some of the works which he had been commissioned to write, and His Majesty, thanking him for the favour, remarked that "We will rehearse them the day after to-morrow." "The day after to-morrow," replied Haydn, "I shall be on my way to England." "What!" exclaimed the King, "and you promised to come to Naples!" With which observation he turned on his heel and indignantly left the room. Before Haydn had time to recover from his astonishment Ferdinand was back with a letter of introduction to Prince Castelcicala, the Neapolitan Ambassador in London; and to show further that the misunderstanding was merely a passing affair he sent the composer later in the day a valuable tabatiere as a token of esteem and regard.

Bonn and Beethoven

The journey to London was begun by Haydn and Salomon on the 15th of December 1790, and the travellers arrived at Bonn on Christmas Day. It is supposed, with good reason, that Haydn here met Beethoven, then a youth of twenty, for the first time. Beethoven was a member of the Electoral Chapel, and we know that Haydn, after having one of his masses performed and being complimented by the Elector, the musical brother of Joseph II, entertained the chief musicians at dinner at his lodgings. An amusing description of the regale may be read in Thayer's biography of Beethoven. From Bonn the journey was resumed by way of Brussels to Calais, which was reached in a violent storm and an incessant downpour of rain. "I am very well, thank God!" writes the composer to Frau Genzinger, "although somewhat thinner, owing to fatigue, irregular sleep, and eating and drinking so many different things."

Haydn Sea-Sick

Next morning, after attending early mass, he embarked at 7:30, and landed at Dover at five o'clock in the afternoon. It was his first acquaintance with the sea, and, as the weather was rather rough, he makes no little of it in letters written from London. "I remained on deck during the whole passage," he says, "in order to gaze my full at that huge monster--the ocean. So long as there was a calm I had no fears, but when at length a violent wind began to blow, rising every minute, and I saw the boisterous high waves running on, I was seized with a little alarm and a little indisposition likewise." Thus delicately does he allude to a painful episode.

Arrives in London

Haydn reached London in the opening days of 1791. He passed his first night at the house of Bland, the music-publisher, at 45 High Holborn, which now, rebuilt, forms part of the First Avenue Hotel. Bland, it should have been mentioned before, had been sent over to Vienna by Salomon to coax Haydn into an engagement in 1787. When he was admitted on that occasion to Haydn's room, he found the composer in the act of shaving, complaining the while of the bluntness of his razor. "I would give my best quartet for a good razor," he exclaimed testily. The hint was enough for Bland, who immediately hurried off to his lodgings and fetched a more serviceable tool. Haydn was as good as his word: he presented Bland with his latest quartet, and the work is still familiarly known as the "Rasirmesser" (razor) Quartet. The incident was, no doubt, recalled when Haydn renewed his acquaintance with the music-publisher.

But Haydn did not remain the guest of Bland. Next day he went to live with Salomon, at 18 Great Pulteney Street, Golden Square, which--also rebuilt--is now the warehouse of Messrs Chatto & Windus, the publishers. [See Musical Haunts in London, by F.G. Edwards, London, 1895] He described it in one of his letters as "a neat, comfortable lodging," and extolled the cooking of his Italian landlord, "who gives us four excellent dishes." But his frugal mind was staggered at the charges. "Everything is terribly dear here," he wrote. "We each pay 1 florin 30 kreuzers [about 2s. 8d.] a day, exclusive of wine and beer." This was bad enough.

An Enthusiastic Welcome

But London made up for it all by the flattering way in which it received the visitor. People of the highest rank called on him; ambassadors left cards; the leading musical societies vied with each other in their zeal to do him honour. Even the poetasters began to twang their lyres in his praise. Thus Burney, who had been for some time in correspondence with him, saluted him with an effusion, of which it will suffice to quote the following lines:

Welcome, great master! to our favoured isle,
Already partial to thy name and style;
Long may thy fountain of invention run
In streams as rapid as it first begun;
While skill for each fantastic whim provides,
And certain science ev'ry current guides!
Oh, may thy days, from human suff'rings, free,
Be blest with glory and felicity,
With full fruition, to a distant hour,
Of all thy magic and creative pow'r!
Blest in thyself, with rectitude of mind,
And blessing, with thy talents, all mankind!

Like "the man Sterne" after the publication of Tristram Shandy, he was soon deep in social engagements for weeks ahead. "I could dine out every day," he informs his friends in Germany. Shortly after his arrival he was conducted by the Academy of Ancient Music into a "very handsome room" adjoining the Freemasons' Hall, and placed at a table where covers were laid for 200. "It was proposed that I should take a seat near the top, but as it so happened that I had dined out that very day, and ate more than usual, I declined the honour, excusing myself under the pretext of not being very well; but in spite of this, I could not get off drinking the health, in Burgundy, of the harmonious gentlemen present. All responded to it, but at last allowed me to go home." This sort of thing strangely contrasted with the quiet, drowsy life of Esterhaz; and although Haydn evidently felt flattered by so much attention, he often expressed a wish that he might escape in order to have more peace for work.

Ideas of London