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He was not highly educated, and he does not seem to have taken
much interest in anything outside his own profession. This much
may be gathered from his correspondence, upon which it is not
necessary to comment at length. Mr Russell Lowell remarks that a
letter which is not mainly about the writer loses its prime
flavour. Haydn's letters are seldom "mainly about the writer."
They help us very little in seeking to get at what Newman called
"the inside of things," though some, notably those given at the
end of this volume, embody valuable suggestions. He habitually
spoke in the broad dialect of his native place. He knew Italian
well and French a little, and he had enough Latin to enable him
to set the Church services. Of English he was almost entirely
ignorant until he came to London in 1791, when we hear of him
walking the country lanes with an English grammar in hand. There
is an amusing story of a dinner at Madame Mara's, at which he was
present during his first visit. Crossdill, the violoncellist,
proposed to celebrate him with "three times three." The
suggestion was at once adopted, all the guests, with the
exception of Haydn himself, standing up and cheering lustily.
Haydn heard his name repeated, but not understanding what was
going on, stared at the company in blank bewilderment. When the
matter was explained to him he appeared quite overcome with
diffidence, putting his hands before his face and not recovering
his equanimity for some minutes. [See Records of My Life, by
John Taylor: London, 1832.]
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