So Haydn set about composing a symphony which was to be played before the Prince and his guests at the last appearance of the orchestra. A brilliant company had assembled. The symphony began. At first the strains were merry; but ere long they grew more sad and plaintive. A player back in the rear of the band was seen to blow out his candle, take up his instrument, and leave. Soon another did the same. This was unheard of. Had all discipline come to an end? But the plaintive strain wails on. More players leave. Finally there remains only the first violinist. His sorrowful cadences continue for a few moments; then he, too, follows his brethren.
Haydn turns to the Prince, bows his head on his breast, and lays down his baton.
This was the "Farewell Symphony."
Cried Prince Esterhazy, "What does all this mean?"
"It is our sorrowful farewell," replied the composer.
The Prince was overcome, and promised to reconsider his decision. He kept his word; and Haydn and his whole orchestra were reinstated and remained in the service of this generous and appreciative friend of art to the day of his death.
267.—THE HEBREW IN MUSIC.
Prior to this century we find in musical history no great names of Jewish origin. Doubtless there were many professional musicians of Hebrew origin before the times of Mendelssohn, Meyerbeer, and Moscheles, but the fact remains that they are the first with Jewish blood in their veins to make a name in the musical world. After these three great "Ms" we find the number continually increasing, and if we subtract from musical literature that which Jewish blood has added, we leave the world much poorer. A brilliant array of Hebrew names is there upon the page of modern music,—Goldmark, Jadassohn, Rubinstein, Cowen, Joachim,
