the theatre agreed with him for the composition of Don Giovanni, one of the most astonishing efforts of science and imagination, fire and feeling. The overture to which, after having been from home till midnight, he composed in his chamber in a few hours, the very night before the first performance of that opera. Yet all this fame did not better his circumstances, and although he might possibly be said not to have been badly paid, yet his style of living was necessarily so attended with expence, that he had determined on another tour to London, where every useful and elegant art is more liberally encouraged under the auspices of a beloved monarch, than in any other part of the world. Unfortunately for Englishmen, the emperor gave him the appointment of Compositeur de la Chambre, which, small as was the salary, secured to Ger. many the regular honour of retaining him.

It is lamentable, observes one of his biographers, that premature genius too rarely enjoys a long career. The acceleration of nature in the mental powers, seems to hurry the progress of the animal economy, and to anticipate the regular close of temporal existence.

The health of Mozart began rapidly to decline. However he was not idle; for in the few last months of his life he composed those three great works, The Enchanted Flute, the Clemency of Titus, and The Requiem. Some have called these his chef d'aures. Nothing ever had a greater run than the first of these. It was performed at Vienna one hundred nights in less than twelve months, and on the hundredth night the theatre overflowed as much as on the first. The second was composed at the desire of the Bohemian states, for the coronation of Leopold. It was begun in his carriage on the road to Prague, and finished in eighteen days. The history of the last is singular.

A stranger called on him and requested he would compose, as speedily as possible, a requiem for a catholic prince, in order to sooth his mind, and to prepare it for his approaching dissolution. Mozart demanded 200 ducats, and the stranger, in order to promote dispatch, deposited 400. The composer began the work, in the progress of which he felt his mind unusually raised and agitated. He employed not only the day, but much of the night in the composition of it, with which he seemed to be infatuated. He told his wife he was composing it for himself, and she prevailed upon him to give her the score, and endeavour to cheer his spirits. Upon his appearing more tranquil, she returned it, but he soon relapsed into despondency; and having finished it on the day of his death, he again reminded her that he had previously informed her it would be composed for himself.

The only complaint he suffered during his illness, was his being obliged to quit life when in a situation to provide for his family, and at liberty to follow the dictates of his genius and the impulses of his heart, unrestrained by mercenary considerations.

In the year 1791, and in the 35th year of his age, just after he had received the appointment of Maestro di Capella, in the church of St. Peter, he departed this life; leaving the world to admire the brilliancy of his powers, and to lament the shortness of the period allotted to their display.

With respect to his person, he was small of stature, and his air, when not at the piano-forte, that of an absent man. But his eyes were full of fire, and-when he was performing, his whole figure became agitated, his countenance changed, and his sentiments were expressed in every motion of his muscles. His knowledge was not confined to music only: he was master of several languages, and

considerably skilled in mathematics. He was frank, mild, and generous; free from pedantry, and always just to the talents of others; and if he wished for praise, it was only for the praise of those who were qualified to bestow it.

At the time of his death, he was considerably involved in debt; but to the credit of Prague and Vienna, these cities disputed the honour of providing for his widow and children.

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For the Monthly Visitor.

ON LOQUACITY.

PROPENSITY to talkativeness is, in some men, uncontroulable; on every occasion, and on every subject, they will advance their opinions, notwithstanding it may be at times unseasonable, and perhaps often misconceived.

To engross the whole of conversation is generally admitted to be a deviation from the rules of politeness; it therefore consequently follows, that no man of this character can be a pleasing companion. The soul of conversation is rejoinder; and every judicious man will never be tedious in delivering his sentiments; and the modest man with a little discernment, will always look at the countenances of the company to discover what sensations his opinions excite. This would operate to check that disgusting garrulity to which many persons of respectability and fortune are addicted. This fault appears to arise from vanity and inconsiderateness for he surely must be a vain man, who, by not permitting conversation to be general, imagines that he can entertain for some hours, a whole company.-Even admitting him to be extensively informed, allow him genius, wit, good

nature, &c. yet without judgment he cannot be an agreeable associate. For once he may shine, and please, but it is of short duration.—Éternal sunshine would not perpetually please; gloom and shade render its brilliancy delightful; by continual enjoyment the most exquisite delicacies prove tasteless, and even unpleasant; for balsams by excess may be as pernicious as poisons.-In whatever light we view loquacity, folly appears the predominant figure on the canvass-while in the back ground are seen, sneering satire, growling censure, restless petulance, grinning ridicule, and frowning contempt. Who, possessed of one grain of common sense, would subject themselves to the painful reprobation of these tormentors of human life?

Some men there are, who fondly conceive they possess such fascinating powers of conversation, that every one listens with silent admiration, and that they are invited for the especial purpose of entertaining the assembly, by retailing of anecdotes twenty times repeated, by elaborate narrations, and laboured eloquence. They think that the highest proof a man can exhibit of talent, is to talk much in elegant language-without considering, that sometimes by its elevation, it might prove neither beneficial nor amusing.

Surely those persons must be very unacquainted with the world, and perfectly inexperienced in the knowledge of what gives energy to conversation, the most agreeable of which are (as before stated), reply and repartee. A few sentences, sensibly delivered on any common subject, are quite sufficient; a reply follows judiciously concise, perhaps from the man of wit and humour;-pleasure sparkles then in every eye; smiles of approbation. and delight are discovered on every countenance; and each gives and receives improvement and gratification.

Z

Another evil attached to this disposition of loquacity, partakes of the nature of calumny.-By indulging in what is termed pleasantry, they often sketch with the pencil of sarcasm the features of their friends, and every foible is dragged to view to raise a momentary laugh, or gratify the lust of vanity. When you expostulate with such a character, he generally replies" I meant no harm. I respect you. I had no intention to defame your character, or wound your feelings," But what is the result? Can he recall his satire? Can he paint over the portrait, and hide those features which excited ridicule, and, perhaps, contempt ?- -Alas it is not in his power. Satire fixes an indelible stain on the character. The memory appears fonder of recollecting the foibles, than the virtues of men, and, whether from habit, or natural depravity, the tales of vice are more perfectly remembered than the aphorisms of the philosophers, or the precepts of religion.

Viewing it on the most favourable side, it fre quently involves a man in serious disputes on the most trivial occasions. Were not loquacious men in general very confident and thoughtless, reflec tion would often spread their cheeks with the burning blushes of shame, and the sting of selfreproach would pierce their hearts for their presumption and folly.

There are seasons, it must be acknowledged, when these rigid laws may be violated with propriety and advantage. To break the solemn si lence of reserve, the whimsicalities of a spor ive fancy, may produce the effect desired. An interchange of sentiment may be excited, and the pleasure resulting from social intercourse perfectly en joyed. Some men, like gems, require the process, of attrition, to shew their worth and brilliancy; to those the mechanical motion of the tongue of