Donald Macleod discovers why Haydn was not such a Viennese composer, only living in the city at the beginning and end of his career. His relationship with the city was a fitful, troublesome one, from what he described himself as his 'wretched existence' as a student musician, to his last moments in this world, lying on his deathbed, as Napoleon's artillery battalions bombarded the city and cannon shot blasted his neighbourhood. "My children," Haydn is said to have told his anxious servants during his final hours, "have no fear, for where Haydn is, no harm can fall.".