er since the time, five
years before, when, after listening to one of Mozart's quartets, he
had delighted the heart of Leopold Mozart by declaring that his son
was the greatest composer he had ever heard. Mozart's affection for
Haydn was equally warm, and now, on hearing that the latter
contemplated a journey to England, he tried to persuade him against
it, urging that he was advanced in years and unacquainted with the
English language. Haydn listened to his friend's objections, and then
observed with a smile, 'No matter; I speak a language which is
understood all over the world.' 'Then,' said Mozart, grasping Haydn's
hand as he spoke, it is good-bye, for we shall never meet again!' The
words were prophetic, for only a year later Haydn in London was
stunned by the news of Mozart's death.

It was a stormy December day when Haydn and Salomon set sail from
Calais, and the passage to Dover was a long and trying one for the
travellers. Nevertheless, Haydn, taking his stand on the deck, enjoyed
his first sight of the waves, and as the spray dashed in his face he
recalled with a smile how he had attempted to write the tempest music
for the actor-manager Kurz. A long interval separated him from those
days of keen want and fierce struggle, when he strove, almost against
hope, to establish a foothold for himself in the music-loving city of
Vienna! Now he was travelling to a greater city, not as an unknown,
struggling student, but with the assurance of a welcome befitting one
whom fame had already claimed for her own.

[Illustration: '_Haydn enjoyed his first sight of the waves._']

The night of his arrival in London was passed at Bland's music
warehouse, No. 45, High Holborn,[8] but the following day he went to
live with Salomon at the latter's lodgings, No. 18, Great Pulteney
Street, Golden Square.[9] Salomon had by no means overestimated the
warmth of the welcome which London was prepared to give to the
composer whose works were already familiar to English music-lovers.
From every quarter admiration and attentions were lavished upon him;
all the most celebrated people besought his acquaintance, and he was
invited everywhere. Yet his equanimity never deserted him. He took
everything very simply, and as if it were his due, and thoroughly
enjoyed the river parties and picnics which were arranged in his
honour. Not so, however, the lengthy dinners or evening entertainments
in town, where his ignorance of the language and cus