We are, now-a-days, accustomed to mark all details of expression in the parts; nevertheless an intelligent conductor frequently finds it expedient to indicate important but very delicate nuances of expression by word of mouth to the particular musicians whom they concern; and, as a rule, such spoken directions are better understood and attended to than the written signs.  It is obvious that in the rendering of Mozart’s instrumental music spoken directions played an important part.  With Mozart the so-called development sections, and the connecting links between the main themes, are frequently rather slight, whereas his musical originality shows to greatest advantage in the vocal character of the melodies.  Compared with Haydn’s the significance of Mozart’s symphonies lies in the extraordinarily expressive vocal character of his instrumental themes.  Now, had Germany been in possession of an authoritative institution, like the Conservatoire of Paris, and had Mozart been asked to assist in the execution of his works, and to superintend the spirit of the performances at such an institution, we might possibly have something like an authoritative tradition amongst us—­a tradition such as, in spite of decay and corruption, is still surprisingly vivid at the Paris Conservatoire—­for instance, in the case of Gluck’s operas.  But nothing of the sort exists with us.  Mozart, as a rule, wrote a symphony for some special concert, performed it once, with an orchestra casually engaged, at Vienna, Prague, or Leipzig; and the traditions of such casual performances are completely lost.

No trace is preserved, except the scantily-marked scores.  And these classical relics of a once warmly vibrating work are now accepted, with mistaken trust, as the sole guide towards a new living performance.  Now, let us imagine such an expressive theme of Mozart’s—­Mozart, who was intimately acquainted with the noble style of classical Italian singing, whose musical expression derived its very soul from the delicate vibrations, swellings and accents of that style, and who was the first to reproduce the effects of this vocal style, by means of orchestral instruments—­ let us imagine such a theme of the Master’s played neatly and smoothly, by an instrument in the orchestra, without any inflection, or increase or decrease of tone and accent, without the slightest touch of that modification of movement and rhythm so indispensable to good singing—­but monotonously enunciated, just as one might pronounce some arithmetical number—­and then, let us endeavour to form a conclusion as to the vast difference between the master’s original intention, and the impression thus produced.  The dubious value of the veneration for Mozart, professed by our music-conservators, will then also appear.  To show this more distinctly, let us examine a particular case—­for example, the first eight bars of the second movement of Mozart’s celebrated symphony in E flat.  Take this beautiful theme