This repackaging of Parisian performances from 1964 (the symphony and concerto) and 1978 is a case of misplaced piety. The Stabat mater, the work that made Haydn’s international reputation, is hobbled by soggy orchestral textures, a woolly-sounding chorus and ponderous, rhythmically turgid direction. Tempi often sound even slower than they actually are. The soloists, too, are an unalluring bunch, the women tremulous, the men feeble. The trudging beat and ill-blended singing in the potentially beautiful quartet “Virgo virginum” encapsulate all that is most depressing about the performance. If you want a recording of this gravely imposing, deeply felt work, the choice lies between the dramatic, abrasive, sometimes over-insistent Harnoncourt (Teldec, 8/95) and, my own preference, Pinnock (Archiv, 9/90), warmer in tone and more naturally paced. Haydn collectors may be attracted by the rare Libera me, Domine, unearthed by HC Robbins Landon in 1966. It’s an austere exercise in the ancient “Palestrina style” though the case for Haydn’s authorship is by no means watertight.

The best thing that can be said about the Trauer Symphony is that Fantapié rightly divides his violins antiphonally. But the string playing is often scrappy and ill-tuned – though in this age of orchestral homogeneity it is intriguing to hear those saxophony Gallic horns. The celestial Adagio plods gracelessly, seemingly phrased bar-by- bar. In the slight, early Double Concerto (which Haydn conceived for violin and organ) the balance is badly misjudged, with the bright, rather strident violin assaulting the ear while the harpsichord tinkles demurely in the background. In sum, a dispiriting collection of performances that should have been left decently interred.