is, in its sheer beauty, reminiscent of Mozart, though the way the
balance of feeling is recovered at the end is pure Haydn; there is the
deepest human feeling, but perfect sanity is never lost. Towards the end
the development is carried on in quite the Beethoven way, quite a long
passage growing out of the simple phrase:

[Illustration: some bars of music]

Nearly all Haydn's art, and a good deal of the art of Beethoven, may be
found in the B flat symphony. The theme is announced in a minor form,
adagio:

[Illustration: some bars of music]

--taken up at once in the major, allegro, and wrought into most
beautiful and expressive strains, each one growing out of the last (if I
may once again use Wordsworth's magnificent word) "inevitably"; it could
not be different.

This is a very paltry discussion of a great matter, but no more space
can be given to it here. In spite of all that has been written since
Haydn drew the final double-bar of the D symphony, all the twelve are
yet worth days and nights of study. All that Haydn is not may be freely
granted; but when we learn to know the London symphonies we learn to
realize in some degree what a mighty inventive artist and workman he
was.