d from casual
lessons in musical theory he drifted into complete neglect. Haydn
afterwards declared that he had never had more than two lessons in
composition from Reutter, who was, moreover, harsh and cruel and
unfeeling, laughing at his pupil's groping attempts, and chastising him
on the slightest pretext. It has been hinted that the Capellmeister was
jealous of his young charge--that he was "afraid of finding a rival in
the pupil." But this is highly improbable. Haydn had not as yet shown
any unusual gifts likely to excite the envy of his superior. There is
more probability in the other suggestion that Reutter was piqued at not
having been allowed by Haydn's father to perpetuate the boy's fine voice
by the ancient method of emasculation. The point, in any case, is not
of very much importance. It is sufficient to observe that Reutter's name
survives mainly in virtue of the fact that he tempted Haydn to Vienna
with the promise of special instruction, and gave him practically
nothing of that, but a great deal of ill-usage.

Lessons at St Stephen's

Haydn was supposed to have lessons from two undistinguished professors
named Gegenbauer and Finsterbusch. But it all amounted to very little.
There was the regular drilling for the church services, to be sure:
solfeggi and psalms, psalms and solfeggi--always apt to degenerate,
under a pedant, into the dreariest of mechanical routine. How many a
sweet-voiced chorister, even in our own days, reaches manhood with a
love for music? It needs music in his soul. Haydn's soul withstood the
numbing influence of pedantry. He realized that it lay with himself
to develop and nurture the powers within his breast of which he was
conscious. "The talent was in me," he remarked, "and by dint of hard
work I managed to get on." Shortly before his death, when he happened to
be in Vienna for some church festival, he had an opportunity of speaking
to the choir-boys of that time. "I was once a singing boy," he said.
"Reutter brought me from Hainburg to Vienna. I was industrious when my
companions were at play. I used to take my little clavier under my arm,
and go off to practice undisturbed. When I sang a solo, the baker near
St Stephen's yonder always gave me a cake as a present. Be good and
industrious, and serve God continually."

A Sixteen-Part Mass!

It is pathetic to think of the boy assiduously scratching innumerable
notes on scraps of music paper, striving with yet imperfect knowledge