magnitude; it is even longer than the first section. And it is not
only long, but interesting. One passage, of which we quote a portion,
has rather a modern appearance:[63]--

[Music illustration]

The return of the principal theme is preceded by an unexpected entry
of the opening bars in B minor,--a first sign of that humour which
afterwards formed so prominent a feature in Bach's music. And the
theme itself, after the opening notes, is dealt with in original
fashion.

The middle movements of Nos. 2, 3, 5, and 6 are in the key of the
relative minor; that of No. 1 is in the tonic minor, and that of No. 4
(C minor), in the relative major. No. 1, twice interrupted by a
recitative (upper part and figured bass),[64] is dignified, yet
tender, and, in form, original. The Adagio, in C sharp minor, of No. 3
is a movement of singular charm; it is based on imitation, but, though
old in style, it breathes something of the new spirit, or rather--for
there is nothing new under the sun--of the old Florentine spirit which
freed music for a time from the fetters of polyphony. The genius of
Johann Sebastian Bach gained the victory over form, and, in fact,
exhausted fugue-form. It is in the clever, but dry fugues of some of
his contemporaries and, especially, successors, that one can feel the
absolute necessity for a new departure. This Adagio is, as it were, a
delicate remembrance, and one not unmixed with sadness, of the
composer's immortal parent.

The light, lively final movements need no description. All the music
of these sonatas is written in two or three parts or voices;