However, in 1776-1777 there was a little diversion.  Haydn composed an opera, La Vera Constanza, for the Court theatre in Vienna, and intrigues for some rival composer—­his name does not matter—­began.  A rival won the first round in the contest; his opera was produced.  In disgust Haydn had his score taken away, and it was soon sung at Esterhaz.  I suppose Haydn would have considered it a sin to waste good material.  Moreover, it was given at a suburban theatre of Vienna, and it proved so far successful that Artaria, the publisher, thought it worth while to engrave half a dozen songs and a duet from it.  The opera which beat his at the Court theatre is utterly forgotten; we know of the other because of the composer’s name.  Some years later, in 1784, he had another touch of the ways of men in the busy world, sent, perhaps, to reconcile him to his habitual seclusion.  As far back as 1771 he had written his first oratorio—­which I am not ashamed to say I have never looked at—­Il Ritorno di Tobia.  It was performed, apparently with eclat, by the Vienna Tonkuenstler Societaet, of which body Haydn wished to become a member.  He put down his name, and paid his subscription, and was not a little surprised to learn that the condition on which alone he would be elected was that he should compose works for the society whenever he was asked.  Now, those works would have become the society’s property, if only because they alone would have the scores, and Haydn was a busy man, a man of European reputation, whose music was worth money, and a shrewd business man, who saw no fun in throwing money away.  His annoyance may be conceived.  He withdrew his subscription—­it is a wonder they would let him have it—­and would have nothing to do with the society until after his return from England in 1791, when the feud was ended, and he was triumphantly elected senior assessor—­whatever that may be.  What the society was thinking in the first instance I cannot guess, unless it was that a mere professional composer and Kapellmeister should pay double, or considerably more than double, for the honour of belonging to so distinguished a body of amateurs.  Anyhow, in the long run Haydn was so well pleased with them that he seems to have made over to them The Creation and The Seasons, from which they derived profits that enabled them to keep their heads above water when darker days came.  Long before this date, however, honours were being thrown at him.  His opera, L’Isolu Disabilite, to Metastasio’s words, was sung in concert form at Vienna in 1779, and the Accademia Filarmonica of Modena made him a member; Haydn sent the score to the King of Spain, who repaid the compliment with a gold snuff-box.  In the same year he got a little relief from the unbroken routine of his duties, for the theatre at Esterhaz was burnt to the ground, and Prince Nicolaus, seeing no means of passing his evenings, took a trip to Paris.  Whether, from Haydn’s point of view, he did well or not is open to question;