Seeing that he was so favored at court, it is not surprising to find the family tradition that Auenbrugger was associated with many of the most prominent persons in the Austrian capital during his lifetime. He was a special friend of and spent a great deal of time with the famous philosopher, Werner. As he grew older he delighted especially in music, and spent many hours at the house of Baron Zois, where many of the distinguished European musicians were to be found and where famous matinee concerts were given every Sunday from twelve to two. The day and the time may seem strange to foreigners, but Vienna still has concerts at this time on Sunday, and after the Viennese have gone to Mass in the morning they think that they could not occupy themselves better than with listening to good music in the middle of the day. Toward the end of his life, Auenbrugger lived during the summer time in the suburb of Rossau and cultivated a little garden, taking the greatest pleasure in spending his time at this simple occupation. It is a source of satisfaction to find that though Auenbrugger's medical work failed during his life to attract the attention it deserved, he had his reward, {81} for his patient investigations in earlier life, in a peaceful and contented ending to a career that had been so worthy of what was best in the man. He lived to celebrate his golden wedding in 1804 and was especially happy in the almost constant companionship of the good wife who had proved so faithful a helpmate during her long life. After her death, which took place the year following the celebration of their jubilee, his vitality and his contentment with life seemed to abandon him. He was a changed man and kept himself for the most part to his room. He went to bed very early and did not care to see anyone but his near relatives. His last illness was the result of a cold, and his advanced age, eighty-seven, left him little resistive vitality. He retained his consciousness until the very end, and said the day before his death that the next day would be his last. Shortly before noon of the day of his death he looked at the clock in his room and said that when the hands would point to two o'clock he would be no more. His prophecy came true.