two great elements of Mozart's symphonic writing are fitly described. In his pianoforte concertos Mozart strove to set out and adorn by the orchestral instruments the pianoforte part, and at the same time give an enchanting musical background. In his symphonies "he sought to give his melody, by way of compensation for its delivery by mere instruments, the depth of feeling and ardor that lies at the source of the human voice as the expression of the unfathomable depths of the heart"; and in this he succeeded by leading "the irresistible stream of richest harmony into the heart of his melody." Well might the cool-headed Ambros say of the last great three, "considered as pure music, it is hardly worth while to ask whether the world possesses anything more perfect." [Illustration: MONUMENT TO MOZART IN SALZBURG. Erected in 1842.] Mozart, as we have seen, wrote much for the church. Unfortunately the best known of his masses were written to suit the florid taste of his patron; and his church music, judged thereby, has been reproached for its frivolity and insincerity. Some, forgetting the solemnity of the litanies de venerabili, the dignity of the vespers, the heavenly "Ave Verum," the "Qui tollis" from the mass in C minor, and portions of the Requiem, have denied him religious feeling, so far as his religious music is concerned. But the musical expression of religious feeling differs with the time, the place, and the individual. What is religious music? To the Aztec, who in religious sacrifice cut out the victim's heart, the beating of the serpent-skin drum was religious music; to the monks of the Middle Ages the drone of the plain song of the church seemed the expression of religious contemplation; and to-day many worthy people find spiritual consolation in the joyous ditties of the Salvation Army. We define religious music conformably with our own religious sentiment. In the days of Palestrina, church music influenced subtly the congregation; it created a mood, a _Stimmung_. In the days of Haydn and Mozart the influence of the virtuosoship of the opera-singer was strongly felt; it invaded the church; it was recognized by the composer of the mass. So in more modern days the dramatic instinct of operatic composers is seen in their religious works; and one may say with Rubinstein, "I think it an error, however, to condemn for that reason the 'Stabat Mater' of Rossini or the 'Requiem' of Verdi in Protestant countries. The Protestant may indeed say: 'I have a different feeling,' but not, 'That is bad, because it is other than my feeling of worship.'" Thibaut may attack the church music of Mozart, and Lorenz may defend it; each expresses thereby his own religious sentiment. It is true that many of the masses of Mozart, considered as music, are not to be compared with his works of a higher flight; and the one that is the most popular, the 12th, so called, was not written by him. But how