Haydn made many interesting acquaintances during this London
visit. Besides those already mentioned, there was
Bartolozzi, the famous engraver, to whose wife he dedicated three
clavier trios and a sonata in E flat (Op. 78), which, so far
unprinted in Germany, is given by Sterndale Bennett in his
Classical Practice. There was also John Hunter, described by
Haydn as "the greatest and most celebrated chyrurgus in London,"
who vainly tried to persuade him to have a polypus removed from
his nose. It was Mrs Hunter who wrote the words for most of his
English canzonets, including the charming "My mother bids me bind
my hair." And then there was Mrs Billington, the famous singer,
whom Michael Kelly describes as "an angel of beauty and the Saint
Cecilia of song." There is no more familiar anecdote than that
which connects Haydn with Sir Joshua Reynolds's portrait of this
notorious character. Carpani is responsible for the tale. He says
that Haydn one day found Mrs Billington sitting to Reynolds, who
was painting her as St Cecilia listening to the angels. "It is
like," said Haydn, "but there is a strange mistake." "What is
that?" asked Reynolds. "You have painted her listening to the
angels. You ought to have represented the angels listening to
her." It is a very pretty story, but it cannot possibly be true.
Reynolds's portrait of Mrs Billington was painted in 1789, two
years before Haydn's arrival, and was actually shown in the
Academy Exhibition of 1790, the last to which Sir Joshua
contributed. [The portrait, a whole length, was sold in 1798
for 325 pounds, 10s., and again at Christie's, in 1845, for 505
guineas--to an American, as usual.] Of course Haydn may have made
the witty remark here attributed to him, but it cannot have been
at the time of the painting of the portrait. That he was an