It has been said of Mozart, that his knowledge was bounded by his art, and that detached from this he was little better than a nonentity. That his thoughts were almost wholly bent on music was not a matter of choice, but of necessity. Had not his miserably-remunerated labours occupied nearly all his time, his means would have been still more limited than they were. But we have reason to think (as we have elsewhere stated) that his acquirements were far greater than in England is generally believed; in proof of which we have the best authority for saying, that once, at a court masquerade given at Vienna, Mozart appeared as a physician, and wrote prescriptions in Latin, French, Italian, and German; in which not only an acquaintance with the several languages was shown, but great discernment of character, and considerable wit. Assuming this to be true, he could not have been a very ignorant man, nor always a dull one, out of his profession. But still stronger evidence in favour of his understanding may be extracted from his works. That he who, in his operas, adapted his music with such felicity to the different persons of the drama—who evinced such nicety of discrimination—who represented the passions so accurately—who coloured so faithfully—whose music is so expressive, that without the aid of words it is almost sufficient to render the scene intelligible,—that such a man should not have been endowed with a high order of intellect is hard to be believed, but that his understanding should have been below mediocrity is incredible. Had Mozart lived, this country, which witnessed his early proofs of genius, would have enjoyed it in its matured and most luxuriant state. When Salomon, the celebrated violin player—an enterprising, liberal, sensible man—was about establishing his subscription-concerts in London, he went to Vienna to engage either Haydn or Mozart to compose symphonies for him, and after several “most amicable and pleasant meetings” (Salomon’s own words) between the parties, it was agreed that Haydn should first proceed to the rich capital of the British dominions, and that the following season he should be succeeded by Mozart. The illness and death of the latter rendered unavailing an arrangement which would at least have compensated his labours more adequately than they had ever before been rewarded. The father of modern orchestral music may be said to have made his fortune—a small one, it is true, but an independence—by his visits to London; and the creator of an entirely new, an infinitely superior, style of dramatic music would hardly have been less successful.