A French traveler who visited Esterhaz about 1782 says:  “The chateau stands quite solitary, and the prince sees nobody but his officials and servants, and strangers who come hither from curiosity.  He has a puppet-theatre, which is certainly unique in character.  Here the grandest operas are produced.  One knows not whether to be amazed or to laugh at seeing ‘Alceste,’ ‘Alcides,’ etc., put on the stage with all due solemnity and played by puppets.  His orchestra is one of the best I ever heard, and the great Hadyn is his court and theatre composer.  He employs a poet for his singular theatre, whose humor and skill in suiting the grandest subjects for the stage, and in parodying the gravest effects, are often exceedingly happy.  He often engages a troupe of wandering players for months at a time, and he himself and his retinue form the entire audience.  They are allowed to come on the stage uncombed, drunk, their parts not half learned, and half dressed.  The prince is not for the serious and tragic, and he enjoys it when the players, like Sancho Panza, give loose reins to their humor.”

Yet Haydn was not perfectly contented.  He would have been had it not been for his terrible wife, the hair-dresser’s daughter, who had a dismal, mischievous, sullen nature, a venomous tongue, and a savage temper.  She kept Haydn in hot water continually, till at last he broke loose from this plague by separating from her.  Scandal says that Haydn, who had a very affectionate and sympathetic nature, found ample consolation for marital infelicity in the charms and society of the lovely Boselli, a great singer.  He had her picture painted, and humored all her whims and caprices, to the sore depletion of his pocket.

In after-years again he was mixed up in a little affair with the great Mrs. Billington, whose beautiful person was no less marked than her fine voice.  Sir Joshua Reynolds was painting her portrait for him, and had represented her as St. Cecilia listening to celestial music.  Haydn paid her a charming compliment at one of the sittings.

“What do you think of the charming Billington’s picture?” said Sir Joshua.

“Yes,” said Haydn, “it is indeed a beautiful picture.  It is just like her, but there’s a strange mistake.”

“What is that?”

“Why, you have painted her listening to the angels, when you ought to have painted the angels listening to her.”

At one time, during Haydn’s connection with Prince Esterhazy, the latter, from motives of economy, determined to dismiss his celebrated orchestra, which he supported at great expense.  Haydn was the leader, and his patron’s purpose caused him sore pain, as indeed it did all the players, among whom were many distinguished instrumentalists.  Still, there was nothing to be done but for all concerned to make themselves as cheerful as possible under the circumstances; so, with that fund of wit and humor which seems to have been concealed under the immaculate coat and formal wig of the straitlaced Haydn, he set about composing a work for the last performance of the royal band, a work which has ever since borne the appropriate title of the “Farewell Symphony.”