By the standards of our era, possibly even by the standards of his own time, Haydn led a fairly sheltered life. True enough, not everyone could say he had been as much as a hundred miles from home, but if you subtract Vienna and (possibly) Prague from the list, Haydn was scarcely more traveled than his father had been.
The modern day Slovakian capitol of Bratislava, then called Pressburg, was also a major administrative center in the 18th century, and remained so until the early 1780's when Joseph II brought the Hungarian crown jewels to Vienna in an attempt to strengthen the bond between Austria and Hungary. I admit to being a bit puzzled by his logic there, but suffice unto the moment to say Prince Esterházy had a palace there also. In February, then, he packed up his retinue, including a dozen or so musicians and some singers and headed to Pressburg for Carnival, which was celebrated there in identical fashion to Vienna. Possibly he intended the trip, on the musicians' part, as a reward for their service, since he also was quite free in handing out the bonus money to go along with it. Of course, Haydn left no diary entry describing his adventure, but we are fortunate there is yet plenty of documentary evidence by others in attendance, either as guest or service person. Where the musicians go, so too their instruments. We have bills, countersigned by Haydn, of all the maintenance required on things like 'the large cembalo' and the two spinets, and the various stringed instruments in need of… well, strings! Plus, we actually do have diary entries, in this case by a guest who attended a 'little Italian opera' by 'The Prince's Kapellmeister, Herr Haydn', which was, in fact, the newly composed La Cantarina. It is unknown if this was the 'World Premiere', or in fact if it had been performed in Eisenstadt last autumn, but its great reception led to a handsome 'shower of gold' for the composer and players. Among other novelties of the presentation, lead tenor Leopold Dichtler dressed in female costume and sang the part of the Diva's 'mother', while Dichtler's wife (in real life), Barbara, sang the part of Don Ettore, the suitor, in a 'pants role'. This being Carnival, no doubt this added bit of spice was greatly appreciated by the patrons.
Despite the fact they make frightfully dry reading, the bills from instrument makers which are submitted for payment by the Esterházy treasury harbor the few clues available about what instruments Haydn had at his disposal, something nice to know when determining the makeup of the orchestra at some given time, or which keyboard instrument a certain sonata was written for. We know that Haydn had the large cembalo in Pressburg (to play continuo at the opera, no doubt), and also two spinets. This is really the only hint we get as to what keyboard instruments were available, with the addition of Haydn's own Klavier (clavichord). We also discover in the purchase/repair list 'a case for the large violone', indicating by inference there were two of them, a large one for Church & concert use, and a smaller one for the chamber. Smaller ones, looking at first glance like nothing so much as a very fat cello, were the everyday instrument in universal use throughout Austria at anything short of a very large venue. There is a huge body of inferential evidence which would be unknown to us save for this treasure trove, the habit of the Esterházy's to send every scrap of paper to the archive. At least if it involved spending money!
Even before the trip, though, we already had some drama to deal with, back at Eisenstadt. When Haydn bought his new house the previous Spring, the contract had a standard clause stating that the landlady would carry the mortgage, but if she would die, then it must be paid in full to her estate. Haydn's luck being what it was, right after New Year, she dropped dead. So after only a few payments, suddenly the entire principal came due. Haydn ended up borrowing a considerable amount of the sum from his father-in-law and escaped disaster. It is theorized, however, that the sudden flow of gold coins which landed on Haydn in the next year from both The Prince as well as his wife, while ostensibly being rewards for musical feats, were actually attempts to help out a highly esteemed employee without appearing as charity. It is not as though they couldn't have known about the whole story. I mention this now because in later years a discussion will erupt over Haydn's supposed servitude to the Family. This is one example of many we will see where they gave him every reason to return their loyalty and generosity.
In autumn of the year, we find the bill for binding Volume 2 of the Baryton Trios. I was personally interested to discover not only Haydn's contribution, but also that of Anton Neumann, bound in the same volume. Although it is generally known (though rarely discussed) that the Prince had several people writing trios for him, the idea they were not each in their own volumes simply never occurred to me. Now I know, and so do you! For those keeping count, Haydn's own share in the two years which have elapsed since his admonishment now totals forty-eight!
The final point of interest for the year is the big trip to Paris. Since Nicholas took along his architect, it is presumed the trip was for the purpose of adapting design ideas from Versailles (since it was done, what better time to have managed it?). No Haydn, but for unknown (now) reasons, at the last moment it was decided our Luigi Tomasini would go along, perhaps to help fiddle away the long hours on the trip. It was most assuredly from this junket that Haydn discovered the great depth of his popularity in the world at large. There were easily a dozen publishers in Paris who were publishing pirate copies of his works, or if not his, then works they were attributing to him. Luigi was, in addition to being the concertmaster of the orchestra, also one of Haydn's best friends. So in addition to telling him all he had seen there, it is circumstantially evident he also made some contacts in the music business for Haydn. Within two or three years, one or two publishers were putting out works which were without the multitude of errors which pirating usually engendered. Hard to imagine the originals came from anywhere but Eisenstadt itself.
So our lad who hasn't seen the world now has a taste of it, even though by proxy. And a solid idea that his music has possibilities outside of the close confines of western Hungary. It would be several more years before he would be contractually free to make use of this knowledge other than under the table, but one can't help but believe a seed was planted.
Thanks for reading!