strict accounts of income and [1]expenditure, but these good resolutions did not last. As Jahn remarks with point, how could he when writing to Puchberg for assistance (July 17, 1789) have appealed to his friend's knowledge of his character and honesty, if these exaggerations had been true? In most cases he was led astray by sheer good-nature, as he never could refuse any one in need. His kindness was grievously abused by false friends, whose acquaintance was damaging to his character, but he never learned prudence. The worst offender in this respect was Stadler, the eminent clarinet-player, who often dined at his table, and repeatedly wheedled money out of him under pretext of poverty. After all that had passed, Mozart composed a concerto (622) for Stadler's tour, finishing it two days only before the production of the Zauberflöte, when he was of course particularly hard pressed.
His religious sentiments, more especially his views on death, are distinctly stated in a letter to his father at first hearing of his illness. 'As death, strictly speaking, is the true end and aim of our lives, I have for the last two years made myself so well acquainted with this true, best friend of mankind, that his image no longer terrifies, but calms and consoles me. And I thank God for giving me the opportunity (you [2]understand) of learning to look upon death as the key which unlocks the gate of true bliss. I never lie down to rest without thinking that, young as I am, before the dawn of another day I may be no more; and yet nobody who knows me would call me morose or discontented. For this blessing I thank my Creator every day, and wish from my heart that I could share it with all my fellow-men.'
Mozart has often been compared with other great men, Shakespeare, Goethe, Beethoven, Haydn, etc., but the truest parallel of all is that between him and Raphael. In the works of both we admire the same marvellous beauty and refinement, the same pure harmony and ideal truthfulness; we also recognise in the two men the same intense delight in creation, which made them regard each fresh work as a sacred task, and the same gratitude to their Maker for His divine gift of genius. The influence of each upon his art was immeasurable; as painting has but one Raphael, so music has but one Mozart.
In reviewing Mozart's instrumental compositions, we will first consider those for pianoforte. They comprise all the different branches, and are thoroughly suited to the instrument—grateful, and for the present state of technique, easy; they contain no mere bravura-writing, the passages being for the most part founded on the scale, or on broken chords. In playing them, clearness, taste, and the power of singing on the instrument are required. In variations, written almost entirely for pupils and amateurs, he employs for the most part the melismatic style. His themes were taken from well-known pieces, such as Fischer's minuet, and airs by Paisiello, Gluck, Sarti, Duport, etc. A good many that were not his were circulated under his name, a proof of the demand for them. Of these only two need be specified, one by Forster on a theme from Sarti's opera 'I finti Eredi'; the other by Eberl, on 'Zu Steffen sprach im Traume,' from Umlauf's 'Irrlicht.' Of three Rondos the last, in A minor (511) is well known; it is characterised throughout by a tenderness which makes it most attractive. Two Fantasias (396, 397), and a short sustained Adagio (540) are almost improvisations; a third Fantasia forms the prelude to an excellent fugue in the style of Bach (394); a fourth (475) full of depth and earnestness, was united by Mozart himself with the sonata in C minor (457). The charming Gigue (574) is well known; but a P.F. Suite in the style of Bach and Handel (499) was unfortunately not finished; the Abbé Stadler completed a more formal and abstract Fugue (401). In his Sonatas of the Viennese period Mozart retained the conventional three movements; they overflow with melody, but the last movements, generally in the form of an easy rondo or variations, are as a rule not much worked out. The C minor (457), already mentioned, is full of fire and passion, not excepting the last movement, and already indicates what Beethoven was destined to do for the sonata. Two others in B♭ and D (570, 576), both pleasing, lively and easy, also deserve mention. Sonatas by others were published under his name, for instance, one in C minor (Köchel's Anhang, 204) recommended by Czerny in his 'Pianoforteschule' (iv. 162), even though of doubtful authenticity, and afterwards published by Artaria with the composer's name—'Anton Eberl, œuvre I.' Another favourite one is in B♭ (Köchel's Anhang 136), partly put together from Mozart's concertos by A. E. Müller as op. 26. The most striking sonata for four hands is the last but one in F (497). Two pieces for a musical clock (594, 608) ordered by Count Deym for Müller's Kunstcabinet, are only known in the P.F. arrangement for four hands; they belong to the close of his life, and the earnestness of purpose and thoroughness of technique which we find in them show how conscientiously Mozart executed such works to order. For two pianos we have a lively sonata in D (448), and an energetic fugue in C minor (426) arranged by Mozart for string-quartet with introductory adagio (546). The Sonatas for P.F. and violin were generally written for his lady-pupils (the violin at that time was, generally speaking, a man's instrument). They are neither deep nor learned, but interesting from their abundant melody and modulations. One of the finest is that in B♭ (454) composed in 1784 for Mdlle. Strinasacchi; the last, in F (547), is 'for beginners'; the last but one in E♭ (481), is also easy, and contains in the first movement the favourite subject which he treats in the finale of the Jupiter Symphony. The P.F. Trios were intended for amateur meetings; the most important is the one in (542) composed in 1788 for his
