"It is true the Viennese have done a great deal for me. They are so good, and they love me dearly.""Oh, the Viennese are not ahead of the people of Berlin in this respect," exclaimed Iffland. "In Berlin, too, every one knows and loves the great Joseph Haydn, and his 'Creation' is likewise recognized there as a masterpiece. It was performed in Berlin quite recently at a charity concert, the receipts of which amounted to over two thousand dollars--""Over two thousand dollars for the poor," said Joseph Haydn, with beaming eyes; "oh, my work, then gave the poor a good day. That is splendid, that is the most beautiful reward for a life of toils and privations. But," he added, after a brief pause, "it is all over now. I can no longer do any thing. I am a leafless tree, which will break down to-day or to-morrow.""The fall of this tree will move the whole of Germany as a great calamity befalling every lover of his country.""Yes, it is true, much love has been manifested for me, much homage has been rendered to me," said Haydn, musingly.
"All nations and all princes have rendered homage to you," exclaimed Iffland. "The laurel-wreath, for which we other poets and artists arc struggling all our lifetime, and which is generally bestowed upon us only after we are in the grave, was long since granted to you in the most flattering and gratifying manner. Europe has presented you, not with one, but with many laurel-wreaths, and you may look back on your life like a victorious hero, for each of your exploits was a triumph for which you received laurel-wreaths and trophies.""Yes, I have many souvenirs of my past," said Haydn, smilingly. "Iwill show. them to you.--Conrad, give me my treasures."Conrad opened the drawer of the large writing-table which was standing close to Haydn, and which contained a great many large and small etuis, caskets and boxes.
"You shall see my treasures now," exclaimed Haydn, cheerfully. In the first place, he showed them a beautiful casket made of ebony and gold. It was a gift with which the young Princess Esterhazy had presented the beloved and adored friend of her house only a few weeks ago, and on whose lid was painted a splendid miniature representing the scene at the last performance of "The Creation,"when Haydn received the enthusiastic homage of the audience. He then showed them the large gold medal sent him; in 1800, from Paris, by the two hundred and fifty musicians who, on Christmas evening in that year, had performed "The Creation," and thereby delighted all Paris. Then followed many other medals from musical societies and conservatories, and valuable diamond rings, snuff-boxes, and breastpins from kings and emperors. Last, Haydn showed them, with peculiar emotion, the diploma of citizenship which the city of Vienna had conferred on him: It was contained in a silver case, and its sight caused his eyes even now to flash with the most intense satisfaction.
He had placed on the table before him every piece, after showing it to them and explaining its meaning; and now that all the treasures were spread out before him, he contemplated them with a blissful smile, and nodded to them as if to dear old friends.
"Do not laugh at me," he said, lifting his eyes to Iffland, almost beseechingly. "I am fondly attached to these things, and hence it delighted me to look at them from time to time with my friends. You will say they are the playthings of an old man. But they are more than that to me; on beholding them, I think of my past life, and my recollections render me young again for a few moments. After my death all these things will pass into dear hands, and I hope that, when I am slumbering in my grave, my souvenirs will be carefully preserved and honored if only for my sake." [Footnote: Haydn bequeathed all his trinkets and manuscripts to the Esterhazy family, who had honored him so highly during his whole life.]
"I hope the day is distant when Germany will have to lament the death of her favorite, Joseph Haydn," exclaimed Iffland.
"That day is close at hand," said Haydn, calmly; "I feel to-day more distinctly than ever before that my end is drawing nigh. My strength is exhausted.""Let us go," whispered Schmid, pointing to Haydn, who had feebly sunk back into his easy-chair, and was leaning his pale head against the cushions.
Iffland fixed his eyes for a long time with an expression of heart-felt grief on the groaning, broken form reposing in the easy-chair.
"And that is all that is left of a great composer, of a genius who delighted the whole world!" he sighed. "Ah, what a fragile shell our body is, a miserable dwelling for the soul living in it! Come, my friend, let us softly leave the room. Only I would like to take a souvenir with me, a flower from the bouquet which Haydn held in his hands. May I venture to take one?"At this moment Haydn opened his eyes again, and fixed them with a gentle expression on Iffland. "I heard all you said," he remarked;"but I was too feeble to speak. You wish to get one of my flowers?
No, you shall have them all."
He took the bouquet, looked at it tenderly, and buried his whole face for a moment in the flowers, and then handed it to Iffland with a gentle smile.
"Farewell," he said; "remember me on looking at these flowers. Iwould I had known you in happier days, when I should have been able to enjoy your genius and admire your art. You must be a great actor, for you have a wonderfully sonorous and pliable voice. I should like to hear you declaim, even though you should recite but a few verses.""Permit me, then, to recite the lines in which Wieland celebrated your 'Creation,'" said Iffland; and, advancing a few steps, holding the bouquet in his hand, and fixing his gleaming eyes on Haydn, who gazed at him with a gentle smile, Iffland recited in his full sonorous voice Wieland's beautiful lines:
