Haydn’s Noble English Pupil

Haydn loved much about London, but there was at least one kind of “student” he might have been happy to leave behind—though Vienna surely had them too.

One day a nobleman visited him, praised music warmly, and offered to take a few composition lessons at one guinea a lesson. Haydn agreed and asked when they should begin.

“Immediately,” the nobleman said, pulling one of Haydn’s own quartets from his pocket. “For the first lesson, let’s go through this quartet. Explain the reasons for certain modulations and progressions—especially the ones that break every rule of composition.”

Haydn, polite as ever, sat down and worked through the score with him. When asked why he had done this or that, Haydn’s honest answer was that he wrote it to achieve a good effect. But “my lord” rejected that explanation. Unless the composer could provide a better justification for his “innovations,” he declared them worthless.

Haydn suggested the nobleman rewrite the passages in his own way. The man refused, but kept demanding: “How can something that violates all rules be best?” Finally Haydn’s patience ran out.

“My lord,” he said, “I see it is you who are so kind as to give lessons to me. I do not need your lessons. I am not worthy of the honor of having such a master as yourself. Good morning, my lord.” And he showed the self-appointed critic to the door.