"As soon as the first act was ready, I requested Carattoli himself, in order to make sure, to come and hear it, and give his opinion upon it. He came, and his astonishment was so great, that he returned the next day, bringing Caribaldi with him. Caribaldi, not less surprised, in a day or two brought Poggi to me. Both applauded so loudly, that upon my repeated question whether they thought it good, whether he ought to proceed, they showed some anger at the want of confidence, and exclaimed frequently with emotion, Cosa ! Come! Questo è un portento. Questa opera andrà alle stelle. Una meraviglia. Non dubiti, che scrivi avanti! with a multitude of the like expressions. Carattoli said the same things to me in his own chamber.

"The rehearsals were now about to begin; when-who could have expected it? but from this time the persecutions of my son commenced."

Even imperial sympathy did not avail to insure to the opera a hearing. It was finally abandoned, though the elastic genius of the young composer sprung back the instant the pressure was removed; and we find him within a month afterwards ready with three works-a "Solemn Mass," an "Offertorium," and a "Trumpet Concerto for a boy," all of which met with signal

success.

But although the course of years and the wonderful works of the youthful prodigy at length raised him superior to all detraction, and placed him at the summit of fame, the struggle against him was kept up to the last; and, even while countenanced by the generous approbation of the truly great of his day, of Martini, of Haydn, and others of that stamp, still there was a pack of noisy depreciators ever barking at his heels hanging upon his skirts even through the triumphs of Le Nozze di Figaro and Il Don Giovanni. A large and influential party, too, of the correct school-musicians contemned the romantic, and as they affected to call them, impertinent novelties of the boy's style, pointing to the honest counterpoint of the Bachs, Wagenseil, Paradies, &c., as the true models by the amount of his departure for which his crime was to be measured. Amongst these were Salieri, Righini, and Aufossi. It is melancholy also to be obliged to add to the list the name of Gluck; but

ment.

vanity and egotism were in him a disease; and in the latter part of his life combined with the intrigues of parasites completely to obscure his judgBoth these parties have been silenced by the voice of time-that judge which pronounces his panegyric not the less loudly that the ears which alone might have been flattered by the eulogium, are now alike beyond the reach of harmony and its praise. The unanimous consent of posterity has pronounced the rebellion of Mozart a revolution; and the master-spirits of modern times have not hesitated to follow where he has led, surpassing him only in so far as long experience and familiarity have rendered the path then first ventured on easy and safe. The impassioned grandeur of Beethoven- the wild magnificence of Weber-the romantic energy of Rossini-the tender warblings of Bellini and Donizetti-the pathetic grace of Spohr, all hang like the broad palmleaves from the stem, to whose aspiring growth they are indebted for their life as well as their elevation. Such is the triumph which was realized from the first in the presaging mind of the boy himself. He saw his own influence, like his shadow, stretching away before him; but he did not see that to outstrip his age was to entail upon himself the punishments due to its tardiness, and that if he would render his name immortal, it must be carved into the very core of his earthly happiness. It is wearying to read the unvaried detail of fruitless effort, beating against the wires that caged it, and falling back in its exhaustion, the prisoner of custom. Nor was it from one class of men alone that these rebuffs were met-from crowned and mitred heads down to the meanest populace, Mozart was doomed repeatedly to endure humiliation. acknowledged merits scarcely procured him patronage sufficiently substantial to feed him; and his most exquisite works were occasionally condemned by the coarse clamour of a mob primed to disapprove. Through the best years of his life, the great composer was forced to waste his hours in tuition, or yet more ignominiously to expend his genius on the production of ballads and country dances, to be performed by himself, as an hired minstrel, at the banquets and fêtes of the nobility.

His

The imagination can scarcely picture the presence of the man whose name is so familiar in the history of renown; whose works have survived their age, and form almost a solitary exception to the shortlived destiny of song; who yet thrills the hearts of sensibility wherever harmony is acknowledged as the exponent of passion and feeling throughout the world-we can scarcely picture the pallid and pene. trating aspect of that man, subdued like our Weipperts and Strausses in the corner of a crowded saloon, venturing forth the magic secrets of his soul in the lowly dress suggested by the stolidity of his patrons, and forced to comfort himself in his degradation by the prospect of the wretched pittance thus earned to meet the first necessities of physical life.

But such is the penalty too often paid for the precocious possession of transcendent genius :

"Urit enim fulgore suo, qui prægravát artes
Infra se positas."

Mediocrity is often success as well as happiness. Genius, like ambition, may "o'erleap itself, and fall at the other side."

If it should be put upon us to shew how it was that Mozart could justly claim the praise of having conducted the musical art across the gulf which separates antiquity from our own times, we might reply by asking a question ourselves. Is there any person of instructed musical taste in any civilized country who is not ready to point to the operatic music of Mozart as the earliest which possesses the distinctive character recognised as modern-that is, such as is at this day the character of music in general? and to mark what goes before it (notwithstanding some individual exceptions) as old that is, such as it referred to a former and relinquished condition of the art? Aware as we are of the reaction that has extensively taken place of late years in favor of the profundities of the Bachs and others of that school, still we confidently anticipate an answer in the affirmative. And when we recollect that in some of the established usages, as regards operatic composition, the innovations of Mozart were positive, including the abandonment of the necessity for choral

conclusions to the acts-the ending of passages and parts in the hushed solemnity of a piano, instead of the eternal bravura which "filled the measure" before his time-the poetical introduction of mere inarticulate beauties of harmony to suggest undefined feelings of delight in the mind, apart from the definite character needed to explain the words and acton-all these and many more innovations were due not only to the genius of Mozart, but to his perseverance in forcing them upon the public taste against strenuous and organized opposition. Concerted music, also, with brilliant accompaniments, combining variety of character and sentiment, first began, through his means, to be understod.

There was another and a distinct merit in the compositions of this master, independent of the novelties they contained. His melodies were the most various and original, as well as the most beautiful, that had ever been heard at the time; perhaps we might add-allowing for a certain advance in taste since his day-that have ever been heard to that present hour. There are no national collections of songs which have not a greater general resemblance than Mozart's melodies have one to the other. In this variety he has never been surpassed by any composer his last opera was as fresh and novel as his first, and no doubt he could have poured forth strains to the end of a long life, as surprising and as new as the ever-changing figures of a kaleidoscope. There was no trick in this; and if we allow-what is capable of proof at any time-that in the strict science of harmony he solved difficulties which had puzzled grave contrapuntists, we shall find no difficulty in pronouncing absolutely on the injustice of the attacks made upon him by his rivals.

The scenic and musical reforms enumerated above, we may as well mention, are found earliest developed in the opera named "Die Entführung aus dem Serail ;" and we remark this, as it reveals the source from which the highest poetical transports ever flow. Mozart lived at the time he was composing it-to use the words of his biographer" in a delirium of invention." He wrote it as a bridegroomthe heroine's voice was that of his mistress, and the singular loveliness of

the harmonies that flow from the lips of Belmont, as well as the general freedom of the style, attest the power which reality adds to the expression of passion.

But before that master-passion could be supposed to have entered the heart, or fired the imagination, the soul of Mozart had thrilled to novel ecstacies and original thoughts, and found its readiest expression in sympathetic sounds. To his sister "Nannell"-for such was his endearing diminutive for her name he writes on one occasion —“I am in danger of writing you an entire air instead of a letter ;" and at another time he says to his father"I am now so busy with the third act (of Idomeneo) that it would be no wonder if I were to turn into a third act myself!"-combined proofs of the ever-open communication kept up between the fountain-head of feeling and the channels of musical expression. All through his life, indeed, we find music the language which springs first to the surface as the interpreter of the heart. His eyes are described as wandering vacantly about till the utterance of harmony began, and then they were fixed as if in enchantment, while the whole face glowed with the lights of changeful intelligence so intensely as to seem almost the transparent lantern of some inner flame. What poetry must have been soaring in the higher regions of that mind! What processions passing in gorgeous review across the imagination! What dramas enacted on what a theatre! As far transcending the tragedies of earth as the stage of the human heart stretches beyond the narrow circuit of material natures.

To attempt a narrative of the life of Mozart is not our intention. He was born at Salzburg in the year 1756. The excessive impressibility of his feelings in later life was only the development of his infantine character. At five years old, he is thus described :

"His disposition was characterised by an extreme sensibility and tenderness, insomuch that he would ask those about him ten times a day whether they loved him, and if they jestingly answered in the negative, his eyes would fill with tears."

The progress of his career must be

followed in Mr. Holmes's book-a work richer perhaps in detached anecdote, than in the fruits of an instructed or reflective mind. We pass over the thirty years which ensued. At thirtyfive, the close of the earthly drama is approaching:

"Throughout this year of incessant occupation, discouragement was gaining ground upon him, and the thinness of his catalogue during 1789-90, when compositions appear only at the rate of one a month, or even at longer intervals, affords conclusive evidence of the fact. The music-shops, as a source of income, were almost closed to him, as he could not submit his genius to the dictates of fashion. Hofmeister, the publisher, having once advised him to write in a more popular style, or he could not continue to purchase his compositions, he answered with unusual bitterness, 'Then I can make no more by my pen, and I had better starve, and go to destruction at once.' The fits of dejection which he experienced were partly the effect of bodily ailments, but more of a weariness with the perplexity of his affairs, and of a prospect which afforded him but one object on which he could gaze with certainty of relief, and that was-death."

The death-year of Mozart, 1791, writes his biographer, was the most wonderful of his life; "it was an end crowning the work, in every way worthy of his extraordinary career." In it he wrote two entire operas, "Die Zauberflöte," and "La Clemenza di Tito," fifty complete pieces of music, besides innumerable fragments-and THE REQUIEM.

As the history of this celebrated composition is interwoven with that of the last hours of the great composer's life, we cannot close our article more appropriately than by extracting such passages as relate to its history:

should like much to try his hand in a work of that character, as the elevated and the pathetic in church music was his favourite style. She advised him to accept the engagement; and he accordingly wrote an answer, stating his terms for the composition, excusing himself from naming the precise time of its completion, but desiring to know where it should be sent when finished. In a few days the messenger returned, paid twenty-five ducats, half the price required, in advance, and informed the composer that as his demand was so moderate, he might expect a considerable present on completing the score. He was to follow the bent of his own genius in the work, but to give himself no trouble to discover who employed him, as it would be

in vain."

While occupied on the work, he removed to Prague, where he produced the opera of "La Clemenza di Tito," and then returned to Vienna, at which capital good fortune seemed at last to await him. He produced the opera of "Die Zauberflöte" with signal success, and was appointed kapellmeister of the cathedral of St. Stephen's. But the catastrophe of the drama of his life was inevitable. In the words of Mr. Holmes, "the prospects of worldly happiness were now phantoms that only came to mock his helplessness, and embitter his parting hour" :

"With the Requiem' his former illness returned. About the 21st of November, his hands and feet began to swell, he was seized with sudden sickness, and an almost total incapacity of motion. In this state he was removed to the bed from which he never rose again. During the fourteen days in which he lay thus, his intellectual faculties remained unimpaired; he had a strong desire for life, though little expectation of it, and his behaviour was generally tranquil and resigned. But sometimes the singular concurrence of events at this juncture, and the thought of the unprotected condition of his wife and children overpowered him, and he could not restrain passionate lamentations. Now must I go,' he would exclaim, just as I should be able to live in peace-now leave my art when, no longer the slave of fashion, nor the tool of speculators, I could follow the dictates of my own feeling, and write whatever my heart prompts. I must leave my family-my poor children, at the very instant in which I should have been

able to provide for their welfare!' Sometimes he spoke more cheerfully. His sister-in-law Sophie, who visited him daily, and did all that affectionate attention could suggest to alleviate his sufferings, found him on the day before his death apparently much improved-hoping for, and even anticipating, recovery. He now sent a message to Madame Weber-Tell mamma that I am getting better, and that I shall come during the octave of her fête day to wish her joy." This was followed by a fearful night, in which his attendants were in momentary apprehension of his dissolution.

"At two o'clock on the same day. which was that of his death, he had been visited by some performers of Schickaneder's theatre, his intimate friends. The ruling passion was now strongly exemplified. He desired the score of the Requiem' to be brought. and it was sung by his visiters round his bed-himself taking the alto part. Schack sang the soprano, Hofer, his brother-in-law, the tenor, and Gorl, the bass. They had proceeded as far as the first bars of the Lachrymosa, when Mozart was seized with a violent fit of weeping, and the score was put aside. Throughout this day he was possessed with a strong presentiment of the near approach of death, and now gave himself up, relinquishing every hope that he had hitherto occasionally cherished.

"It was late in the evening of December 5, 1791, that his sister-in-law returned, but only to witness his dissolution. She had left him so much better, that she did not hasten to him. Her own account may now be given. 'How shocked was I, when my sister, usually so calm and self-possessed, met me at the door, and in a half-distracted manner said, 'God be thanked that you are here. Since you left he has been so ill that I never expected him to outlive this day. Should he be so again he will die to-night. Go to him, and see how he is.' As I approached his bed he called to me- It is well that you are here: you must stay to-night and see me die.' I tried, as far as I was able, to banish this impression, but he replied, 'The taste of death is already on my tongue -I taste death; and who will be near to support my Constance, if you go away?' I returned to my mother for a few moments to give her intelligence, for she was anxiously waiting, as she might else have supposed the fatal event already over; and then hurried back to my disconsolate sister. Sussmayer was standing by the bedside, and on the counterpane lay the 'Requiem' concerning which Mozart was still speaking and giving directions. He now called

his wife, and made her promise to keep his death secret for a time from every one but Albrechtsberger, that he might thus have an advantage over other candidates for the vacant office of kapellmeister to St. Stephen's. His desire in this respect was gratified, for Albrechtsberger received the appointment. As he looked over the pages of the 'Requiem' for the last time, he said, 'Did I not tell you that I was writing this for myself?'

"On the arrival of the physician, Dr. Closset, cold applications were ordered to his burning head, a process endured by the patient with extreme shuddering, and which brought on the delirium from which he never recovered. He remained in this state for two hours, and at midnight expired."

Thus died Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, "the Prodigy of Salzburg," at the age of thirty-five years and ten months. The closing scene of his short life is cheerless in more respects than one. The case forms, indeed, one of the very few instances within our recollection, of a mind, thoroughly imbued in early years, with devotional principles utterly rejecting in its last hour the blessings of spiritual consolation. And, in the silence of the biographer, we may venture to surmise that the intimacy recorded as having existed between the composer and the infidel Grimm, involving, no doubt, an acquaintance with the elite of the freethinking party in France, may have produced its effect in loosening

the foundation of the musician's

belief; in which case we can the easier account for the relaxation of his morals, perceptible first about the time that acquaintance commenced. What a solemn train of reflection does this open to us! and in what a fearful light does the responsibility of that philosopher appear, whose influence is found, in after years, to have sapped subterraneously out of him, undermining the everlasting hopes not only of his admitted disciples, but of those whom he appears only to have meant to befriend-so true is it that even "the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel." To moralize, however, is neither our province nor our wish, though there is certainly matter here to ponder over. Perhaps the few closing words of the book itself are more appropriate in their simplicity than we could

use:

"All the intimate friends and connexions of Mozart are now removed; but the works of the composer, in various modes of republication, or first printed from the MSS., are, at the distance of half a century, continually springing into life. This is the fame he sought with the most earnest devotion and self sacrifice. Estimated by the universality of his power-the rapidity of his production, and its permanent influence on art, the models he created, and the constantly advancing march of his genius, arrested in full career, and in the bloom of life, Mozart certainly stands alone among musicians."