To the compositions already mentioned in Vienna must be added the following:—
Airs for soprano (368, 374); concert arias for his sister-in-law, Mme. Lange (383, 416. 538); air with P.F. obl. for Nancy Storace (505);[1] ditto for Adamberger, the tenor (431); bass airs for Fischer (432, 512), Gottfried von Jacquin (513), Gerl (who sang Sarastro), with contrabasso obligate for Pischlberger (612), and Benucci (584). Airs inserted in operas by other composers: 2 for Mme. Lange in Anfossi's 'Il curioso indiscreto' (418, 419); bass air for Albertarelli in 'Le Gelosie fortunate' (Anfossi) (541); for Mlle. Villeneuve in Cimarosa's 'I due Baroni' (578), and in Martin's 'Il burbero di buon enore' (582, 583); for his sister-in-law Mme. Hofer in Paisiello's 'Barbiere' (580). Trios for the Jacquin family (436–39); comic, nicknamed the Bandel-Terzet (441); for Bianchi's 'Villanella rapita,' trio (480) and quartet (479). 20 Lieder for a single voice, including 'Das Veilchen' (476);[2] 'Abendempfindung' (523), 'An Chloe' (524); 12 canons.
Instrumental: serenade for wind instruments (375); Kleine Nachtmusik (525); 3 marches (408); dances, 25 Nos.; 'Ein musikalischer Spass' (522); 4 string-quintets (515, 516, 593, 614); 1 quintet for clarinet, 2 violins, viola, and cello (561); quintet for harmonica, flute, oboe, viola, and cello (617); trio (divertimento) for violin, viola, and cello (563); rondo for violin (373); 4 horn concertos (412, 417, 447, 495); clarinet concerto (622). For P.F.: sonata in C minor (457) with Introductory fantasia (475); 3 sonatas (515, 570, 576); Allegro and Andante (533); 2 fantasias (396, 397); Adagio in B minor (540); 2 rondos (485, 611); variations (398, 455, 460, 500, 573, 613); 6 sonatas with violin, completed in Vienna, and published by subscription, Mozart editing (296, 376–380); 7 ditto (402–4, 454, 481, 526, 547); sonatas for 4 hands (497, 521); Andante with 5 variations (501); for a musical clock (also arranged for 4 hands) Adagio and Allegro (594); fantasia (680); Andante (616); 6 trios with violin and cello (442, 496, 502, 542, 548, 564); trio with clarinet and viola (498); 2 quartets, G minor and E flat (478, 493); quintet in E flat, with oboe, clarinet, horn, and bassoon (452); 17 concertos (413–15, 449–51, 453, 456, 459, 466, 467, 482, 488, 491, 503, 537, 595); concert-rondo (382), printed as the last movement of an earlier concerto (175).
In contemplating Mozart as an artist we are first struck by the gradual growth of his powers. God bestowed on him extraordinary genius, but nearly as extraordinary is the manner in which his father fostered and developed it. We have seen him laying a solid foundation by the study of Fux's Gradus, and anxiously enforcing early practice in technique. We have also seen Mozart studying in Salzburg the works of contemporaneous composers. In Italy his genius rapidly mastered the forms of dramatic and ancient church music; van Swieten's influence led him to Bach, whose works at Leipzig were a new-found treasure, and to Handel, of whom he said, 'He knows how to make great effects better than any of us; when he chooses he can strike like a thunderbolt.' How familiar he was with the works of Emanuel Bach is shown by his remark to Doles, 'He is the father, we are his children; those of us who can do anything worth having have learnt it from him, and those who do not see this are .' The eagerness with which he laid hold of Benda's melodramas as something new has already been described.
His handwriting was small, neat, and always the same, and when a thing was once written down he seldom made alterations. 'He wrote music as other people write letters,' said his wife, and this explains his apparently inexhaustible power of composing, although he always declared that he was not spared that labour and pains from which the highest genius is not exempt. His great works he prepared long beforehand; sitting up late at night, he would improvise for hours at the piano, and 'these were the true hours of creation of his divine melodies.' His thoughts were in fact always occupied with music; 'You know,' he wrote to his father, 'that I am, so to speak, swallowed up in music, that I am busy with it all day long—speculating, studying, considering.' But this very weighing and considering often prevented his working a thing out; a failing with which his methodical father reproached him:—'If you will examine your conscience properly, you will find that you have postponed many a work for good and all.' When necessary, however, he could compose with great rapidity, and without any preparation, improvising on paper as it were. Even during the pauses between games of billiards or skittles he would be accumulating ideas, for his inner world was beyond the reach of any outer disturbance. During his wife's confinement he would spend his time between her bed-side and his writing=table. When writing at night he could not get on without punch, of which he was very fond, and 'of which,' says Kelly,[3] 'I have seen him take copious draughts.' At the same time he would get his wife to tell him stories, and would laugh heartily.
We have already remarked on his powers as a virtuoso on the piano, organ, and violin, and also on his preference for the viola. He considered the first requisites for a pianist to be a quiet steady hand, the power of singing the melody, clearness and neatness in the ornaments, and of course the necessary technique. It was the combination of virtuoso and composer which made his playing so attractive. His small well-shaped hands glided easily and gracefully over the keyboard, delighting the eye nearly as much as the ear. Clementi declared that he had never heard anybody play with so much mind and charm as Mozart. Dittersdorf expressed his admiration of the union of taste and science, in which he was corroborated by the Emperor Joseph. Haydn said with tears in his eyes, that as long as he lived he should never forget Mozart's playing, 'it went to the heart.' No-one who was fortunate enough to hear him improvise ever forgot the impression. 'To this hour, old as I am,' said [4]Rieder, 'those harmonies, infinite and heavenly, ring in my ears, and I go to the grave fully convinced that there was but one Mozart.' His biographer Niemetschek, expresses himself in similar terms, 'If I might have the fulfilment of one wish on earth, it would be to hear Mozart improvise once more on the piano; those who never heard him cannot have the faintest idea of what it was.' Vienna was the very place for him in this respect; when he was thinking of settling there, his father, with characteristic prudence, warned him of the fickleness of the public, but he replied that his department was too favourite a one, 'this certainly is pianoforte-land.' And he was right; from his first appearance to the last, the favour of the public never wavered. As a teacher he was not in much request, Steffan, Kozeluch,
