could carry him.

The Esterhazy chapter of Haydn's life had closed with something of a
snap. On September 28 Prince Nicolaus died. He had started by being
Haydn's patron and master, but long before the end he had become his
friend. Haydn never dreamed of leaving, never even of going to England
on a short visit, without his permission and full approval. He was put
in his grave, and his magnificence would be all unremembered to-day but
for his connexion with a great composer. Haydn had been in the service
of him and his predecessor, Prince Anton, just on thirty years. Haydn
himself was now close on sixty years old. He might have retired now, as
a good Kapellmeister should, and lived in obscure comfort for the rest
of his days. The next Prince, another Anton, dismissed the band and
singers, but to the annuity of 1,000 florins which Nicolaus had left
Haydn he added 400 florins.

The story of these thirty years is soon told. What a fantastic mode of
life it seems, how farcical, grotesque, in its dull routine, for a
genius who was at work steadily building up new art-forms. Haydn, we are
told, rose every morning at six, carefully shaved and dressed, drank a
cup of black coffee, and worked till noon. Then he ate, and in the
afternoon he worked again, and ate and worked until it was time to go to
bed. He was a little man, very dark of skin, and deeply pock-marked, and
he had a large and ugly nose. His lower jaw and under lip projected, and
he had very kindly eyes. He was far from being vain about his personal
appearance, but he took an immense amount of pains with it, for all
that. Ladies ran much after him, too. But he cannot have spared them
much of his time. All who knew him were agreed about his methodical
habits, and we have only to look at a catalogue of his achievements, and
to consider that on every day of the week he had both rehearsals and
concerts, to realize that his entire time must have been eaten up by the
writing of music and the preparation and direction of musical
performances. Undoubtedly he wearied of it at times, though he said
that on the whole it had been good for him, and that by being so much
thrown upon his own resources he had been forced to become original. As
to this, I beg leave to be sceptical; and at any rate his finest work
was done when he was free of his bondage, and actively engaged in the
busy world. There is a note of regret for the irremediable in that
remark of his. It is as if he had s