ublimity
of Handel's "Messiah," it is marked by a richness of melody, a serene
elevation, a matchless variety in treatment, which make it the most
characteristic of Haydn's works. Napoleon, the first consul, was
hastening to the opera-house to hear this, January 24, 1801, when he was
stopped by an attempt at assassination.

Two years after "The Creation" appeared "The Seasons," founded on
Thomson's poem, also a great work, and one of his last; for the grand
old man was beginning to think of rest, and he only composed two or
three quartets after this. He was now seventy years old, and went but
little from his own home. His chief pleasure was to sit in his shady
garden, and see his friends, who loved to solace the musical patriarch
with cheerful talk and music. Haydn often fell into deep melancholy, and
he tells us that God revived him; for no more sweet, devout nature ever
lived. His art was ever a religion. A touching incident of his old age
occurred at a grand performance of "The Creation" in 1808. Haydn was
present, but he was so old and feeble that he had to be wheeled in a
chair into the theatre, where a princess of the house of Ester-hazy
took her seat by his side. This was the last time that Haydn appeared
in public, and a very impressive sight it must have been to see the aged
father of music listening to "The Creation" of his younger days, but too
old to take any active share in the performance. The presence of the old
man roused intense enthusiasm among the audience, which could no longer
be suppressed as the chorus and orchestra burst in full power upon the
superb passage, "And there was light."

Amid the tumult of the enraptured audience the old composer was seen
striving to raise himself. Once on his feet, he mustered up all his
strength, and, in reply to the applause of the audience, he cried out
as loud as he was able: "No, no! not from me, but," pointing to heaven,
"from thence--from heaven above--comes all!" saying which, he fell back
in his chair, faint and exhausted, and had to be carried out of the
room.

One year after this Vienna was bombarded by the French, and a shot fell
in Haydn's garden. He requested to be led to his piano, and played the
"Hymn to the Emperor" three times over with passionate eloquence and
pathos. This was his last performance. He died five days afterward, aged
seventy-seven, and lies buried in the cemetery of Gumpfenzdorf, in his
own beloved Vienna.

VI.

The serene,