"Take me home, dear ones," he said, faintly, "sing on, my
'Creation'; my soul will remain with you, but my body can no longer
stay. Old age has broken its strength. Farewell, farewell, all of
you! My soul will always be among you when you sing my music; my
body will go, but the soul will remain. Farewell!"

And the votaries of art who had conveyed him to the hall now placed
the maestro's chair again on their shoulders, and carried it slowly
through the hall toward the entrance.

The audience stood in silent reverence and looked up to Haydn's
passing form, and durst not break this profound stillness by
uttering a sound. They bade farewell to the universally beloved and
revered maestro only by bowing their heads to him and shedding tears
of emotion--farewell for evermore!

The solemn procession had now arrived at the door. Joseph Haydn
lifted his weary head once more; his spirit gleamed once more in his
eyes; an expression of unutterable love beamed from his mild face;
he stretched out his arms toward the orchestra as if to bless it,
and greeted it with his smile, with the nodding of his head, and the
tears which filled his eyes. [Footnote: "Zeitgenossen," third
series, vol iv., p. 33]

A low rustling and sobbing passed through the hall; no one was
courageous enough to clap his hands; all hearts were profoundly
moved, all eyes filled with tears.

But now he disappeared, and the door closed behind Joseph Haydn. The
German maestro had to-day celebrated his apotheosis amidst the