British Museum,
July 19, 1765.

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LAST PORTRAIT OF MOZART.

Painted by his brother-in-law Lange in 1791. The head is finished, but not the coat.

In considering the compositions of this man, who died before he was thirty-six, and spent much time in travel, the most superficial investigator must be struck by the mere number. There are 20 dramatic works; 2 oratorios, a funeral hymn, 3 cantatas, and the reinstrumentation of 4 oratorios by Handel; 66 vocal pieces with orchestral accompaniments; 23 canons and a collection of songs; 48 pieces for the church, and 20 masses, including the Requiem, which however was probably completed by Süssmayer; 22 pianoforte sonatas and fantasias; 17 organ sonatas, 16 variations for bugle and pianoforte, 23 little pieces, and 11 sonatas and pieces for four hands on two pianofortes; 45 sonatas for violin and pianoforte; 8 trios, 2 quartets and 1 quintette for pianoforte and strings; for strings alone there are 3 duos, 3 trios, 29 quartets, 8 quintets; then there are 2 quartets with flute, 1 with oboe, 1 quintet with horn; 10 concertos for violin, 1 for two violins, 1 for violin and viola, 28 for the pianoforte, 1 for two pianofortes, 1 for three pianofortes, 1 for bassoon, 1 for oboe, 4 for flute and 1 for flute and harp, 5 for horn, 1 for clarinet,—in all 55; in dance music there is one gavotte, 39 contradances, 56 waltzes, 96 minuets, a pantomime and a ballet; there are 27 different pieces of instrumental music, as marches, adagios, etc., 33 divertissements, serenades or cassations, all pieces of long breath, including each from 10 to 12 movements; there are 49 symphonies. These authentic works, accepted by Köchel, number in all 769 compositions. Then when one reflects on the quality of the music and its artistic value, when one finds in nearly each work the traces at least of genius, and reflects that a third of them are masterpieces, he begins to realize the might of the man. He was naturally the most spontaneous of musicians, and in this respect—in pure creation—without doubt the greatest of them all. Rarely are seen such fecundity and such versatility. Unlike Handel, when a work was finished, it was finished; it did not enter again into another composition. The charge of plagiarism was never brought against him except in one instance: the religious march in "Idomeneus" was traced by a friend to the march in Gluck's "Alceste." He wrote as though he could not help it. Jumping from the bed, he ran to the pianoforte. The barber found him restless. His mind was preoccupied at table. In travel, the landscape, the very motion of the carriage stimulated his imagination. He was constantly jotting down his thoughts on scraps of paper. Much of his greatest music was composed, even in detail, in his head before he took his pen. The conversation of his friends, noises in the house or street did not distract him. His faculty of concentration was incredibly developed, and Constanze said that he wrote his scores as though he were writing a letter. And so his inspiration, as shown in the hasty composition of the "Don Giovanni" overture, reminded Victor Wilder of the saying of the first Napoleon: "Inspiration is only the instantaneous solution of a long meditated problem."

In examining the works themselves, many of them must be passed over without notice. Some were written for special occasions; some, for combinations of instruments, that no longer, or rarely, are heard in concert-halls; and it would be idle to assert that all his works are equally worthy of respect. The complete collection of the writings of even such a genius as Voltaire contains dreary pages and frivolous opinions. Let us examine more particularly his pianoforte music, the chamber music, such as the string quartets and quintets; the symphonies; the religious music; and the operas, looking at the works themselves, comparing them with that which was contemporaneous, and observing the influence on the musicians that followed him. The songs, with the exception of the "Veilchen" (The Violet), were set to meaningless words and are not to be ranked with the best of his compositions; but this same "Violet" in its lyrical-dramatic setting pointed the way to the after glory of the German song as seen in Schubert, Schumann and Franz. And nearly all of the concert-arias written for special singers and for special use seem to-day a little antiquated, and cast in the old and traditional mould. As Mozart first was known as a pianoforte player, let us first look at his writings for that instrument. (I use the term pianoforte throughout this article, following the example of Rubinstein, who, in his "Conversation on Music" (1892), speaks of compositions for Clavecin, Clavichord, Clavi-cymbal, Virginal, Spinett, etc., "as written for pianoforte, as to-day we can only perform them on this instrument.")

There is no doubt but that Mozart was the greatest pianoforte player of his time. The testimony in his favor is overwhelming. His hands were small and well-shaped, and some of his hearers wondered that he could do so much with them. He had elaborated an admirable system of fingering, which he owed to the careful study of Bach, whose pianoforte music he had played from a very early age. He regarded good fingering as the basis of expressive playing. He insisted that the player should have "a quiet, steady hand," and that the passages should "flow like oil"; he therefore objected to all bravura feats that might be detrimental to "the natural ease and flexibility." He was vexed by exaggerations of tempos, by over-rapidity of execution, by sentimental rubatos. He demanded correctness, "ease and certainty, delicacy and good taste, and above all the power of breathing life and emotion into the music and of so expressing its meaning as to place the performer for the moment on a level with the creator of the work before him." It is hard for men of another generation to gain an idea of the qualities of the virtuosoship of the pianist that moved and thrilled the audiences of his time. We must take the word of his hearers. Clementi declared that he never heard any one play so intellectually and gracefully as Mozart. Rochlitz waxed enthusiastic over the brilliancy and "the heart-melting tenderness of his execution;" Dittersdorf praised the union of art and taste; and Haydn, with tears in his eyes, could not forget his playing, because it came from the heart. Unfortunately we can not estimate his virtues as a player from his works, for all that heard him agree that his improvising was the crowning glory of his art. Variations on a well-known theme were in fashion, and the variations were often improvised. The published variations of Mozart are light and pleasing; he did not care for them, and they were written, no doubt, for the entertainment of his pupils or his friends. Of the three rondos, the one in A minor (1787) is very original and of exquisite beauty, and is a favorite to-day in concert-halls. The fantasia in C minor (1785) is an important work. Five movements, in various keys and tempos are bound together, and though each is in a measure independent, the sections seem to follow each other inevitably. The harmonies are daring, when the date of its composition is considered, and the mood, the Stimmung, is modern in its melancholy and doubt. In treating the sonata form Mozart was the successor of Ph. Em. Bach and Haydn.