"To DR. BURNEY,—
"... And now, my dear friend, let's draw our stools together, and have some fun. Is it possible we can help talking of Haydn first? How do you like him? What does he say? What does he do? What does he play upon? How does he play?... The papers say he has been bowed to by whole orchestras when he has appeared at the play-houses. Is he about anything in the way of composition? Come, come! I'll pester you no more with interrogations; but trust to your generosity to gratify my ardent curiosity in your own way. I have just—and I am ashamed to say but just—sent for his 'Stabat Mater.' Fisin10 told me some quartetts had, not long ago, been published by him. He has written so much that I cannot help fearing he will soon have written himself dry. If the resources of any human composer could be inexhaustible, I should suppose Haydn's would; but as, after all, he is but mortal, I am afraid he must soon get to the bottom of his genius-box. My friend Mr. Tindal is come to settle (for the present at least) in this neighbourhood. He is going to succeed me in the curacy of Fordham. He plays the Fiddle well, the Harpsichord well, the Violoncello well. Now, sir, when I say 'well,' I can't be supposed to mean the wellness that one should predicate of a professor who makes the instrument his study; but that he plays in a very ungentlemanlike manner, exactly in time and tune, with taste, accent, and meaning, and the true sense of what he plays; and, upon the Violoncello, he has execution sufficient to play Boccherini's quintettos, at least what may be called very decently. But ask Fisin, he will tell you about our Fiddling, and vouch for our decency at least. I saw in one of the public prints an insinuation that Haydn, upon his arrival in London, had detected some forgeries, some things published in his name that were not done by him. Is that true? It does not seem very unlikely."
10 James Fisin was born in Colchester; was intimate with Dr. Burney, and well known as a Professor of Music.
· · · · ·
Haydn left Vienna December 15, 1790, and arrived with Salomon in London on New Year's Day, 1791. The Rev. Thomas Twining's interrogations addressed to Dr. Burney respecting him were therefore made but a few weeks after Haydn's first arrival in England. Between the months of January and May much had been seen and heard of Haydn, information of which Dr. Burney gave to his friend, as seen in the following letter:—
"COLCHESTER, May 4, 1791.
"To DR. BURNEY,—
"How good it was of you to gratify me with another canto of the 'Haydniad'! It is all most interesting to me. I don't know anything—any musical thing—that would delight me so much as to meet him in a snug quartett party, and hear his manner of playing his own music. If you can bring about such a thing while I am in town, either at Chelsea, or at Mr. Burney's, or at Mr. Salomon's, or I care not where—if it were even in the Black Hole at Calcutta (if it is a good hole for music)—I say, if by hook or crook you could manage such a thing, you should be my Magnus Apollo for the rest of your life. I mention Salomon because we are a little acquainted. He has twice asked me to call upon him, and I certainly will do it when I come to town. I want to hear more of his playing; and I seem, from the little I have seen of him, to like the man. I know not how it is, but I really receive more musical pleasure from such private cameranious Fiddlings and singings, and keyed instrument playings, than from all the apprêt of public and crowded performances.
"I have lately had a sort of Fiddle mania upon me, brought on by trying and comparing different Stainers and Cremonas, &c. I believe I have got possession of a sweet Stradivari, which I play upon with much more pleasure than my Stainer, partly because the tone is sweeter, mellower, rounder, and partly because the stop is longer. My Stainer is undersized, and on that account less valuable, though the tone is as bright, piercing, and full, as of any Stainer I ever heard. Yet, when I take it up after the Stradivari it sets my teeth on edge. The tone comes out plump, all at once. There is a comfortable reserve of tone in the Stradivari, and it bears pressure; and you may draw upon it for almost as much tone as you please. I think I shall bring it to town with me, and then you shall hear it. 'Tis a battered, shattered, cracky, resinous old blackguard; but if every bow that ever crossed its strings from its birth had been sugared instead of resined, more sweetness could not come out of its belly. Addio, and ever pardon my sins of infirmity.
"Yours truly,
"T. T."