iddler scraping
away in a little beer cellar. Haydn, entering, inquired, "Whose minuet
is that you are playing?" "Haydn's," answered the fiddler. "It's a--bad
minuet," replied Haydn, whereupon the enraged player turned upon him and
would have broken his head with the fiddle had not Dittersdorf dragged
him away.

Attempts at Programme Music

It seems to have been about this time--the date, in fact, was 1751--that
Haydn, still pursuing his serenading practices, directed a performance
of a quintet of his own composition under the windows of Felix Kurz, a
well-known Viennese comedian and theatrical manager. According to an
old writer, Kurz amused the public by his puns, and drew crowds to his
theatre by his originality and by good opera-buffas. He had, moreover,
a handsome wife, and "this was an additional reason for our nocturnal
adventurers to go and perform their serenades under the harlequin's
windows." The comedian was naturally flattered by Haydn's attention. He
heard the music, and, liking it, called the composer into the house to
show his skill on the clavier. Kurz appears to have been an admirer of
what we would call "programme" music. At all events he demanded that
Haydn should give him a musical representation of a storm at sea.
Unfortunately, Haydn had never set eyes on the "mighty monster," and was
hard put to it to describe what he knew nothing about. He made several
attempts to satisfy Kurz, but without success. At last, out of all
patience, he extended his hands to the two ends of the harpsichord,
and, bringing them rapidly together, exclaimed, as he rose from the
instrument, "The devil take the tempest." "That's it! That's it!" cried
the harlequin, springing upon his neck and almost suffocating him. Haydn
used to say that when he crossed the Straits of Dover in bad weather,
many years afterwards, he often smiled to himself as he thought of the
juvenile trick which so delighted the Viennese comedian.

His First Opera

But the comedian wanted more from Haydn than a tempest on the keyboard.
He had written the libretto of an opera, "Der Neue Krumme Teufel," and
desired that Haydn should set it to music. The chance was too good to
be thrown away, and Haydn proceeded to execute the commission with
alacrity, not a little stimulated, doubtless, by the promise of 24
ducats for the work. There is a playfulness and buoyancy about much
of Haydn's music which seems to suggest that he might have succeeded
admirably