re
beautiful, and scored for a fuller orchestra than any others of the one
hundred and twenty or thereabouts which he composed, the Salomon set
also bears marks of the devout and pious spirit in which Haydn ever
labored.

It is interesting to see how, in many of the great works which have won
the world's admiration, the religion of the author has gone hand in hand
with his energy and his genius; and we find Haydn not ashamed to indorse
his score with his prayer and praise, or to offer the fruits of his
talents to the Giver of all. Thus, the symphony in D (No. 6) bears on
the first page of the score the inscription, "In nomine Domini: di me
Giuseppe Haydn, maia 1791, in London;" and on the last page, "Fine, Laus
Deo, 238."

That genius may sometimes be trusted to judge of its own work may be
gathered from Haydn's own estimate of these great symphonies.

"Sir," said the well-satisfied Salomon, after a successful performance
of one of them, "I am strongly of opinion that you will never surpass
these symphonies."

"No!" replied Haydn; "I never mean to try."

The public, as we have said, was enthusiastic; but such a full banquet
of severe orchestral music was a severe trial to many, and not a few
heads would keep time to the music by steady nods during the slow
movements. Haydn, therefore, composed what is known as the "Surprise"
symphony. The slow movement is of the most lulling and soothing
character, and about the time the audience should be falling into its
first snooze, the instruments having all died away into the softest
_pianissimo_, the full orchestra breaks out with a frightful BANG. It is
a question whether the most vigorous performance of this symphony would
startle an audience nowadays, accustomed to the strident effects of
Wagner and Liszt. A wag in a recent London journal tells us, indeed,
that at the most critical part in the work a gentleman opened one eye
sleepily and said, "Come in."

Simple-hearted Haydn was delighted at the attention lavished on him
in London. He tells us how he enjoyed his various entertainments and
feastings by such dignitaries as William Pitt, the Lord Chancellor, and
the Duke of Lids (Leeds). The gentlemen drank freely the whole night,
and the songs, the crazy uproar, and smashing of glasses were very
great. He went down to stay with the Prince of Wales (George IV.) who
played on the violoncello, and charmed the composer by his kindness. "He
is the handsomest man on God's ear