for a fiddler named Polzelli had come to Esterhaz, and Haydn could find nothing better to do than flirt with his wife Luigia.  He did more than flirt—­he went a trifle further, and the lady took full advantage of his infatuation.  She everlastingly importuned him for money, and made him sign a promise to marry her if ever he should be free to do so.  Finally, the trouble came to an end somehow; but in his will Haydn left the lady an allowance for life.

The new theatre was built, and reopened in 1780 with a representation of La Fidelta Premiare.  This pleased every one so much that it was given once at a concert under Haydn’s direction, that the Emperor Joseph might hear it, and it led to Artaria, who was a very great gun in the publishing line of business, taking him up in serious earnest.  Life went on much as it had done before the fire, or, if it was not quite so monotonous, it was still dull enough.  Honours came to him from abroad, and when in Vienna he made the acquaintance of many more or less celebrated men.  Michael Kelly is well worth reading on the subject, for Michael was no fool, and very much more than an ordinary celebrity-hunter.  Haydn’s friendship with Mozart is the most interesting feature of this period, and a very beautiful incident in the lives of two men of genius.  Mozart, said Haydn, was the greatest composer then living; Mozart regarded Haydn as a father, and dedicated some quartets to him in phrases revealing the deepest affection.  The intimacy ended when Haydn left, towards the end of 1790, on his first trip to England; in 1791 Mozart perished miserably, and was laid in a pauper’s grave—­the man whom Haydn called the greatest composer of the time was buried by the parish, and in 1792 Haydn returned triumphantly from England, his brow wreathed with laurel, figuratively, and his pockets crammed with English notes and gold, literally.  There are a few other odds and ends worth mentioning.  His opera, Orlando Paladino, written in 1782, made a great hit, and under its German name of Ritter Roland was the last of his stage works to ride off the stage.  In 1781 the Grand Duke Paul and his wife had heard some of his quartets, and the Duchess was so pleased with them that she took lessons from the composer, and made him a present.  London, too, had heard of him, and was thinking of him; and William Forster, the publisher, made arrangements with him which resulted in the publication in England of eighty-two symphonies and twenty-four quartets, not to mention other works.  In 1785 he produced one of the most beautiful of his works, The Seven Words.  This, I must own, I have never heard in its original form.  It was commissioned by some priests of a church at Cadiz:  seven slow movements to be played between meditations to be spoken on the words of Christ on the Cross.  In this shape it became well known, and, later, Haydn himself conducted it in London as a Passione Instrumentale.  The theme inspired him, and it was a further inspiration