Exploding the Myth of Mozart!!

But we all know Salieri killed him, so we should feel sorry for him
anyway... /Ö

Exploding The Myth Of Mozart
By Dr. Pei-Gwen South
12-1-3

As one of the most recognized composers of the Western musical canon,
the music and reputation of Mozart is as celebrated today as it was
disregarded in his own time. In fact, the eminent status he has come
to enjoy, both in print and performance, has become so entrenched as
to deflect any question or criticism of its deservedness; by its very
magnitude (and the notion of value it invokes) it has cast a
pervasive, and consequently detrimental, influence over the tone and
direction of Mozart scholarship. But what if the image we have of the
composer is a myth? And what if the assessment of his achievement has
been inaccurate? Like so many myths, separate the fact from the
fiction, the truth from the untruth, and there remains little of
substance that is worthy of all the adulation. One has only to
consider the authenticity of his works, the contradictions and
incongruities which musical scholarship has uncovered (but largely
failed to pursue), and the man himself, and the myth begins to crumble
before our very eyes.

Regarding authenticity, it is not a question of whether or not Mozart
composed all that has been attributed to him - we know for certain
that he did not, and that many of the works once thought to be his
were actually written by other composers. The question is the extent
to which this is the case. To date, musicologists and music historians
have identified these spurious and doubtful Mozart works into their
hundreds, among them songs, symphonies, serenades, concertos, chamber
pieces, masses, requiems and smaller church works, an incomplete
listing of which was published in the sixth Köchel edition in 1964.
Since then, the number of Mozart works found to be spurious has
continued to grow, and, as has now been acknowledged, includes many
works that are well-known and cherished by musical audiences, such as
the Sinfonia Concertante for four winds K.Anh. 9, the 'Paris' Overture
K.Anh.8, the Missa Brevis in G K.140, and the 'Twelfth Mass', the
latter of which is actually by the little-known German composer Wenzel
Muller (Robbins Landon 1991: 351-352). To this list might be added
Idomeneo and the 'Haffner' Symphony.

Prior to Idomeneo Mozart had written La finta giardiniera (1775), an
opera which received only three performances, and in which he failed
to show "control of the libretto and of the dramatic structure". It
has been said that "too much of it is a sequence of arias, the
characters' arbitrary ways repeat the clichés of dozens of comic
operas, and it all goes on too long" (Roselli 1998: 81).

Given that in the intervening years he wrote no other operas, the jump
in quality from La finta to Idomeneo is not only curious but
inexplicable, unless one considers that he had help with the latter's
composition, something that is entirely possible considering that his
father acted as intermediary between Mozart and the opera's
librettist, Varesco. Similarly noteworthy is Mozart's often-quoted
remark regarding the 'Haffner' Symphony. Upon receiving the score from
his father in 1783, he commented, "'My new Haffner symphony has quite
astonished me, for I had forgotten every single note of it. It must
certainly make a good effect'" (Eisen 1991: 257). Scholars have made
light of this remark, contending that Mozart was surely joking. Yet if
we consider for a moment that Mozart did not in fact compose it (it
was, after all, composed for a family friend at Leopold's suggestion)
then the remark makes much more sense.

The seemingly ever-increasing list of works now known to be
unauthentic comprises both compositions "by 'foreign' composers that
were simply copied by Mozart" (Robbins Landon 1991: 352), as well as
many that were written by his contemporaries, including Michael Haydn
(younger brother of Franz Josef Haydn), K.F. Abel, Johann Neubauer,
Joseph Myslivecek, Joseph Schuster, François Devienne, Henri
Casadesus, Ernst Eberlin, Franz Novotny, F.X. Süssmayr (his pupil),
and, most significantly, his father, Leopold Mozart.

The fact that a substantial number of Leopold's works were once
mistaken for Mozart's is an interesting one that may be explained, in
part, by the difficulty in distinguishing between their respective
handwritings, and by the striking similarity between the compositional
styles of father and son; the latter is perhaps to be expected, it was
after all from his father that Mozart received his musical education.
But the likeness necessarily begs the question of how much of a hand
Leopold really had in his son's compositions, and just how much of the
repertoire now recognized as Mozart's actually belongs to him.
Numerous sacred works (including masses and litanies), symphonies and
songs from this repertoire have now been correctly attributed to
Leopold, and these include not only manuscript copies, but the
autographs for numerous compositions, such as the Masses K.115 and
116, and the songs K.149 -151 (Eisen 1991: 173). Certainly, the notion
that Leopold's contribution may be far more extensive is not only
conceivable, but supportable.

The first issue that bears consideration is the fact that Leopold was
a prolific and accomplished composer. He composed some 70 symphonies,
numerous serenades, overtures, divertimenti, sacred works, concertos,
occasional works and dance music, most of which have been lost, and
"the creation of an important repertory of independent orchestral
music in Salzburg must be credited to [him]" (Eisen 1989: 173). Nor
did he lack creative daring. He was amongst the first to begin his
symphonies with a slow introduction that set the tone of what was to
follow, and in his keyboard sonatas achieved a more varied texture
that sought to circumvent the banality of the commonly-employed
Alberti bass (Wyn Jones 1991: 79-80). He was moreover an accomplished
pedagogue, and in the year of his son's birth published his famous
violin treatise, Versuch einer gründlichen Violinschule, which was
reprinted several times and translated into other languages (Steptoe
1991: 102).

Secondly, let us consider the role Leopold played in Mozart's life and
his influence on his formative career. From 1760, Leopold turned from
his own career path to nurture that of his young son and daughter,
Maria Anna ("Nannerl"), who was four-and-half years older than Mozart
and also an extremely gifted pianist. It is well known that Leopold
was meticulous and resourceful in promoting his children as musical
prodigies on their tours across Europe from 1762 to 1766, and, later,
in facilitating Mozart's transition from child performer to composer
(Steptoe 1991: 103). Many of the letters written by Leopold to friends
and family during this period, detailing the children's success and
achievements, were purposefully written "for public circulation", and,
it has been noted, were probably intended for the biography of Mozart
he planned to write (Eisen 1991:160). Carefully crafted notices
describing their phenomenal abilities were placed in the press to
generate interest and publicity, and every advantage was sought from
the contacts they made. Leopold had envisioned a formidable future for
Mozart, and all his efforts were geared toward this end.

His performing capabilities aside, much has been made of Mozart's
apparent ability to compose at this young age, and the works that he
supposedly wrote and published while on tour. It was, in fact, one of
the selling points of his father's campaign to boost the reputation of
his son. An advertisement from 13 May 1765, while they were in London,
invited audiences to hear a "'Concerto on the Harpsichord by the
little Composer and his Sister, each single and both together'", and
engraved sonatas and portraits were offered for public purchase
(Heartz 1995: 506). Just a few months earlier, in February, Mozart had
also apparently performed some of his first symphonies in concert.
However, by their very importance to the family's activities and
success at this time, the validity of such works and compositional
claims is necessarily questionable, for in building up his son, one
has to wonder how much Leopold exaggerated his talent, and how much of
his compositional achievement was manufactured for the public. It is
known that the harpsichord sonatas composed during their stay in Paris
from 1763-64 were written "with the ever-present help of his father"
(Heartz 1995: 498), and that his father's assistance was again
required for the Gallimathius musicum K.32, written for the Dutch
court, the autograph for which shows parts written in Leopold's hand.
There is also some controversy amongst experts as to the extent of
Leopold's contribution to the symphonies composed during the trip to
Italy in 1770, further to his involvement with their copying (Heartz
1995: 507,556).

Certainly, the argument that Leopold ghost-wrote Mozart's early
compositions because it was expedient is a likely one that warrants
serious consideration. Given the rigours of travel, especially in
those days, and the constant round of social engagements they
undertook, the toll on the young Mozart must have been enormous, and
extensive documentation indicates that he was frequently ill. During
these years alone he was stricken with erythema nodosum, rheumatic
fever, angina, small-pox, scarlet fever and intestinal typhoid, the
latter of which afflicted him for two months, and during which time it
is claimed that he also published six sonatas for keyboard and violin
K.26-31 allegedly of his own composition. These illnesses were in
addition to minor maladies such as colds. It is indeed difficult to
imagine that under these circumstances Mozart would have had the time,
vigour or inclination to compose, let alone to compose works worthy of
public performance or publication. But for someone of Leopold's skill
it would have been easy. Leopold's presence looms large in Mozart's
juvenile church works, such as the Masses K.66 and K.139 and the
Litany K.125, which are said to have been modelled on Leopold's
compositions and to be thus indebted to them, but which could just as
easily have been written by the older composer, thus accounting for
their style. Certainly, Leopold's predisposition towards employing
horns in his sacred music (he was probably the first composer in
Salzburg to do so) is a feature that is also found in Mozart's works
in this genre (Eisen 1989: 171).

The appearance of Leopold's (as well as Nannerl's) handwriting in
various parts of surviving manuscripts, including the concertos K.449
and 451 (Eisen 1991: 180), is another potentially telling detail that
has otherwise been attributed to their helping to copy out the music
from Mozart's autographs. But the fact that numerous autographs once
thought to be Mozart's have now been shown to be by his father makes
the authenticity of the autographs themselves highly suspect.
Moreover, besides being an exceptionally gifted performer, Nannerl
also dabbled in composition and was apparently quite skilled at it -
Mozart on several occasions complimented her on her works and
encouraged her to write more often, asking that she send him the
completed pieces. The idea that she may have contributed to some works
is thus not inconceivable. Indeed, the existence of such
interpolations in the manuscripts could well be evidence that, at the
very least, many of Mozart's works were the product of familial
collaboration that have thus far failed to be acknowledged as such.
Such a concept is by no means as foreign to Mozart scholarship as
might generally be supposed. Musicologists have already discovered
that in his later Vienna years, Mozart drew on the help of his pupil,
Süssmayr, in the composition of certain works. For example, it was
Süssmayr who composed the secco recitatives of La Clemenza di Tito
-the opera commissioned for the coronation of Leopold II - and we are
told that Mozart was so pressed for time that both he and Süssmayr
worked in the coach en route to the ceremony. The other famous work
from this time, the Requiem K.626, owes even more to Süssmayr. Left
incomplete at his death, Mozart had composed only fragmentary sketches
for the Offertorium and part of the Dies Irae, the only movement to be
fully scored being the Introitus; the Sanctus, Benedictus, Agnus Dei
and Lux aeterna were later completed by Süssmayr at the request of
Mozart's wife, Constanze, who was keen to collect the commission for
the work, and, as John Roselli rightly points out, "the work as a
whole ought to be known as 'by Mozart and Süssmayr'" (1998: 159).

The documented changes in Mozart's handwriting throw a further shadow
over the authenticity of his works. Careful study of the autographs
from the period 1770-1780 in particular has revealed clearly
discernable changes in Mozart's script that have largely been accepted
as legitimate developmental changes, even though it has been
acknowledged that "these changes do not occur simultaneously or with
rigorous consistency", and that they sometimes occurred quite
suddenly. For instance, notational symbols that appeared fairly
consistently throughout 1769 changed considerably in the following
year, and, interestingly enough, with the autograph for the Litany
K.125 from 1772 (a piece whose authenticity is questionable), it
changed once again (Eisen 1991: 173). Could it be that the numerous
changes and inconsistencies in Mozart's handwriting over his lifetime
were the result of many hands masquerading as one? Further to the
undeniable affinities with the music of his father, if one also
considers the extent to which other composers' compositions found
their way into Mozart's works, the answer becomes a resounding 'yes'.

From the many discussions and analyses of his music, it becomes
apparent that Mozart was remarkably susceptible to the influence of
other composers, in spite of his self-righteous confidence in his own
abilities, and his habit of making disparaging remarks about his
contemporaries frequently and often. These 'influences' were numerous
and varied, and have given rise to observations of Mozart's
'indebtedness' to this or that work or composer in a considerable
number of his compositions. Many features of his symphonic writing can
be thus accounted for, such as the presentation of themes in reverse
order in the recapitulation (found in many opening movements by Johann
Stamitz), the inversion of sixths into thirds and vice versa and an
abundance of trills in the opening theme (typical of Wagenseil), and
finales that burst forth with orchestral brilliance that is quickly
over (another Wagenseilian trait). Amongst his keyboard juvenilia,
scholars have contended various borrowings or imitations from Carl
Philip Emmanuel Bach, Johann Gottfried Eckard and Johann Christian
Bach - all of whom were accomplished keyboard players and composers of
their day - and his early sacred works were similarly derivative, if
not more so. Besides his father, the two main composers whose music
Mozart drew from during the Salzburg years were Johann Ernst Eberlin
and Michael Haydn, both of whom were in the employ of the Archbishop
of Salzburg. Eberlin, the older of the two and the "earliest Salzburg
Kapellmeister whom Mozart could have known personally and the first in
whose music he took any interest" (Humphreys 1991: 86), was a seminal
figure in the city's musical transition from Baroque to Rococo style.
It is known that Mozart copied out much of Eberlin's sacred music,
extant copies of which have previously led to false attributions to
Mozart himself (Humphreys 1991: 86), though why he did so has less
satisfactorily been addressed. It has largely been assumed that he did
so for purposes of study, an explanation that could be contrived as
plausible given the time frame concerned. Yet, beyond the context of
formative development the credibility of such an explanation falters
badly, and the fact that Mozart continued to copy out the music of
other composers throughout his career renders the motive behind the
practice suspect. Mozart made transcriptions of several of J.S. Bach's
keyboard fugues and reorchestrated a number of vocal works by Handel
after coming into contact with their music in the 1780s. It should be
noted that both Bach and Handel were "little-known in Vienna at the
time" (Cavett-Dunsby 1991: 221), making it highly likely that, after
such minor tweaking, Mozart intended to pass these works off as his
own, and it is only by virtue of his reputation today and the high
profiles of both Bach and Handel that his actions have not aroused
suspicion. At the most, it has been recognized that his music became
more contrapuntal after his exposure to these Baroque masters. In
these Vienna years, Mozart also copied out church works by the
prominent Viennese musician Georg Reutter the younger (1708-1772)
(Humphreys 1991: 84), and requests for copies of works by other of his
contemporaries appear often in his correspondence to his father and
sister, among them, requests for copies of music by Michael Haydn.

It has been noted that upon returning to Salzburg in 1769, Mozart
became "increasingly receptive to the music of Michael Haydn" (Heartz
1995: 538), and that even after his move to Vienna in 1781, he "showed
consistent interest" in the latter's church music (Stone 1991: 153).
It thus comes as no surprise that Haydn's "strong influence" is
conspicuous in many of Mozart 's Salzburg works, such as his Te Deum
K.141 (66b) and the Offertory Sub tuum praesidium, "which is closely
related to Haydn's Offertory in Honour of the Most Blessed Virgin"
(Humphreys 1991: 86). When, in February 1773, Haydn completed his
Notturno in C for string quintet with two violas, Mozart followed suit
by writing his Quintet in Bb K.174 for the same combination a short
time afterward. In Haydn's subsequent Notturno in G, again with two
violas and dated 1 December 1773, it has been said that certain
passages "could easily pass for Mozart" (Heartz 1995:540), but it is
an observation that is surely more accurate the other way round given
the direction of influence: that in striving to imitate and emulate
his contemporary, Mozart thus sounded like Haydn. Haydn's Symphony in
G, composed in May 1783, is a case in point. It has been ascertained
that early in 1784, after returning to Vienna from Salzburg with the
scores for Haydn's Symphony no. 17 in Eb and Symphony in G in hand,
Mozart added a slow introduction to the later, and, consequently, the
"entire work long passed as Mozart's Symphony no. 37" (Heartz 1995:
543). Certainly, the mimicry in Mozart's subsequent compositions
underlines a level of dependence unbefitting of creative genius. His
Serenade in Eb for winds, K.375, contains a precadential passage in
the first movement "that duplicates Haydn's gesture for gesture"
(Heartz 1995: 540), whilst the similarities between Haydn's Requiem
for the Archbishop von Schrattenbach, composed in 1771, and Mozart's
own Requiem K.626, composed some 20 years later, have long been
recognized. Indeed, further to the material borrowed from Haydn, the
Mozart work also bears the stamp of Florian Gassmann (another
prominent Viennese church composer) in the Kyrie, which betrays
"strong thematic links" with Gassmann's own Kyrie from his Requiem
left incomplete at his death in 1774 (Humphreys 1991: 84). Further to
such appropriations between similar types of works, Mozart also
utilized borrowed material across the genres. The main thematic idea
of the overture to La Clemenza di Tito (1791) has close associations
with the Gloria of Michael Haydn's Missa sancti Hieronymi, and we know
that when Mozart was composing the C minor Mass (1783) he asked his
father to send him "'some of [Michael] Haydn's fugues'" (Humphreys
1991: 86). Mozart's Symphony in D K.84 provides an earlier example,
the opening of which bears a striking resemblance to the overture of
Jommelli's opera Armida abbandonata, the premiere of which Mozart had
attended in 1770.

In turning to opera, a genre in which Mozart supposedly produced some
of his greatest masterpieces, this pattern of derivation continues. In
addition to the overture's echo of Haydn's Missa sancti Hieronymi and
the previously mentioned contribution of Süssmayr, in the choruses of
La Clemenza di Tito one can hear similarities with the majestic
choruses of Gluck's Alceste (1767), and in "the demonic violence of
the second-act finale of Don Giovanni" (1787) resounds the music for
the furies from Gluck's Don Juan and Orfeo (first performed in 1761
and 1762 respectively) (Rice 1989: 133). The Marriage of Figaro,
composed in 1786 "with a nudge from Paisiello's The Barber of Seville
and King Theodore in Venice" was similarly obliged, both of
Paisiello's operas having been performed in Vienna in the previous
three years to great acclaim (Roselli 1998: 90). Unlike their
predecessors, however, neither Don Giovanni nor Figaro were a success
with Viennese audiences. What becomes increasingly clear is that
Mozart exploited a myriad of sources in creating his body of works,
but the most prominent of these, and also the most commonly cited and
discussed, was Franz Josef Haydn, Michael Haydn's elder brother.

Haydn's 'influence' on Mozart has been well documented and
established. Yet, what is curious is that nothing more has been made
of Mozart's overt and habitual imitation of the older master's works
other than to say that Mozart admired and respected him. So frequently
did Mozart express his 'admiration' , and such was the degree of
closeness between his works and Haydn's, both musically and
chronologically, that one must wonder if Haydn was more annoyed and
frustrated than flattered by these events, and if Mozart's intentions
were other than virtuous. A closer look at some of Mozart's symphonies
and chamber music over the course of his career reveal the nature of
this copying.

As an example from his formative years there is the Symphony no. 15 in
G (K.124), written after his trip to Milan and dated February 1772.
The first movement, Allegro, begins in 3/4, but after only twelve bars
appears to shift into 6/8 for the appearance of the second theme.
Heartz notes that "It is highly unusual for Mozart to make the
modulation so quickly", and further observes "something else unusual
about this second theme besides its metrical quirks. It resembles in
several particulars the opening of Joseph Haydn's brilliant Symphony
No. 28 in A, dated 1765" (1995: 558). Known for his intellectual and
witty humour (a quality that was to come to the fore in his later
works, particularly the op. 33 string quartets), Haydn's Symphony
begins with a musical joke encapsulated by confusion over the metre
that is both surprising and refreshing. Mozart's imitation of this
opening was clearly deliberate, and, as Heartz further contends, "The
passages are too close to be explained by coincidence or fortuity"
(1995: 558).

Subsequently, Mozart composed his first symphony in a minor key, the
Symphony no.25 in g K.183 (1773), only after Haydn's succession of
minor-key symphonies in the late 1760s and early 1770s. The first
movement of Mozart's symphony, Allegro con brio, begins with a first
subject consisting of four semibreves, G D Eb F#, played by the oboes
and the violins in syncopation with the bass. It has been noted that
"The use of this kind of 'pound-note' subject is certainly central to
Haydn's minor-mode works of the late 1760s and early 1770s" (Heartz
1995: 571). Mozart then follows this subject with a repeated turn
figure, and again we note that "the figure itself occurs twice as a
climactic shudder at the very end of Haydn's Symphony No. 52 in c.
Mozart ends his first group with V of g, then plunges without further
ado into the relative major for the second. So does Haydn in both
outer movements of his Symphony No. 39 in g (which uses four horns,
similarly disposed)" (Heartz 1995: 571). But the similarities do not
end there. Mozart affirms the new key of Bb major by canonic imitation
between violins I and II, and continues this canonic discourse into
the development section, something found time and again in the works
of Haydn, who was fond of utilizing canonic dialogue in his
development sections throughout his life (Heartz 1995: 571). Then, in
the Symphony's third and fourth movements, a Menuetto and Allegro
finale respectively, Mozart breaks with tonal convention by setting
the Menuetto in a minor key and the trio in the major to provide
temporary release, whilst the finale ends in g minor. However this key
structure was not of Mozart's invention. The use of a minor key for
the last two movements of a symphony "was virtually non-existent in
the mid-eighteenth century", but it was a practice that Haydn employed
in his minor-key symphonies of the 1760s and 1770s, right down to the
setting of the trio in a major key for momentary contrast. The
similarity has prompted Heartz to question, "Would Mozart have created
such a serious work in the minor mode were it not for Haydn's similar
works? Probably not" (1995: 572). Many have also heard Haydn in the
second and third movements of Mozart's Symphony no.30 in D, written
shortly after the g minor Symphony, and have rightly acknowledged that
the apparent development in Mozart's symphonic writing during the
early 1770s undoubtedly stemmed from "his indebtedness to Haydn"
(Heartz 1995: 576).

Mozart's last three symphonies, written in 1788 and widely considered
to be the crowning achievement of his symphonic output, also denoted a
new departure in his style. But it was a departure that was once again
instigated from without. Their correspondence with Haydn's 'Paris'
Symphonies nos. 82-87 published the previous year, far from being
coincidental, clearly indicates that the creative impulse behind these
works was, once again, not Mozart's own. The case of the Agnus Dei
from Mozart's Mass K.337, the ending of which is quite unlike any he
had previously written, can be similarly accounted for by the fact
that it sounds remarkably like the ending of Haydn's Missa St. Joannis
de Deo (c.1775) (Heartz 1995: 669). Haydn's Symphonies nos. 82-84 were
in Eb major, g minor and C major - Mozart adopted the same key scheme
for his Symphony no. 39 K.543, Symphony no. 40 K.550 and Symphony no.
41 K.551 (the 'Jupiter') respectively. The correspondence between
Haydn's Symphony no. 82 ('L'ours') and the 'Jupiter' is most apparent
in the scoring, both using trumpets and timpani in the tradition of
symphonies written in C major. However, in the other two symphonies
the similarities are more than superficial. The second movement of the
Symphony no. 40 resembles that of Haydn's Symphony no. 83 ('La poule')
in many respects: "E flat major, andante, piano dynamic, string
scoring (later supported by horns in the Mozart), repeated tonic notes
to open the theme and gently emphasized discords (including supertonic
seventh in bar 3 in Haydn, bar 2 in Mozart)" (Landon and Jones 1988:
226). Regarding the Eb major Symphonies, both begin with a slow
introduction and include a minuet third movement with "exaggeratedly
regular phrasing patterns". In the Mozart, the music following the
slow introduction also reflects Haydn's Symphony no. 85 in its dotted
note figuration, metre and mood, whilst the finale to the work is
overtly Haydnesque. It is no small wonder that scholars have looked at
Mozart's symphonic works from the 1780s and conceded that, "In
general, Mozart's music absorbed some of the argumentative features of
Haydn's style, obviously evident in Mozart's increasing interest in
monothematic sonata form in the second half of the decade" (Landon and
Jones 1988: 226).

The same derivative pattern is to be found in Mozart's chamber music,
in particular, in his attempts in the string quartet genre. In 1771
and 1772, Haydn published two sets of string quartets, his op. 9 and
op. 17 respectively. Each set comprised six quartets, each in
different keys and with four movements, the third movements being
minuets and trios, with one movement in the minor mode and another a
theme and variations. Within two months of their publication, Mozart
wrote his own set of string quartets that followed this same scheme in
every particular. He further drew on Haydn 's most recent quartets
composed in 1772 (and subsequently published as op. 20) by similarly
including fugal finales in the first and last of his quartets. Even
more audaciously, in his Quartet in F major K.168, Mozart took the
fugal theme from the finale of Haydn's Quartet in f minor op. 20,
changed the metre and gave it canonical treatment, and used it for the
second movement of his own work, which he also set in f minor. Unlike
Haydn' s quartets, however, Mozart's failed to bring him acclaim and
were not published (Heartz 1995: 564).

When Mozart again attempted a series of string quartets in the
early-to-mid-1780s he modelled them on Haydn's newly published op. 33
string quartets from 1781. This time, however, he openly acknowledged
the source of his material by dedicating them to the older composer,
also noting that their composition had been difficult and lengthy for
him. Consequently known as the 'Haydn' string quartets, their
similarities with Haydn's op. 33 quartets have been widely commented
on, "not only in terms of incidental thematic similarities, but also
in the equal importance of the four instruments, the contrapuntal
finales of K.387 and K.464, and in detailed motivic relationships
within and between movements" (Cavett-Dunsby 1991: 223).

Mozart's last two string quintets K.593 (1790) and K.614 (1791) have
likewise been described as "amongst the most Haydnesque music [he]
ever wrote". Many of their features can easily be identified with
Haydn's style: the use of a slow introduction, monothematicism, the
inclusion of a movement in 6/8 metre, intricate thematic development
and motivic construction (which is highly uncharacteristic of Mozart),
a rondo movement, and a cantabile slow movement. Moreover, Mozart's
quintets betray "telling thematic resemblances" with Haydn's Quartets
in D and Eb major and certain other of his works (Landon and Jones
1988: 227). The quintet K.614 is truly a pastiche. Its opening
movement, which one writer labelled "'a bad arrangement of a wind
piece in mock-Haydn style'" (Cavett-Dunsby 1991: 230), is highly and
unusually motivic, the slow second movement evokes the corresponding
movement of Haydn's Symphony no. 85, the Trio of the third movement
shows the influence of the Trio from Haydn's Symphony no. 88, and the
rondo finale recalls the corresponding movement in Haydn's Quartet op.
64 no. 6. The theme of the quintet K.593 resembles that from Haydn's
Quartet op. 64 no. 5 ('The Lark') (Cavett-Dunsby 1991: 230; Landon and
Jones 1988: 227). Some commentators have called K.593 and K.614
Mozart's final tribute to Haydn, but to do so wrongfully validates his
unimaginative and shallow imitation. Indeed, Mozart's inclusion of a
dedication to Haydn on a single occasion (in his 'Haydn' string
quartets) does not vindicate or convincingly explain his earlier or
subsequent appropriations, nor is it proof of a life-long admiration
for the composer as many have surmised. If one subscribes to that line
of reasoning that equates borrowing with admiration, one would then
logically have to conclude that Mozart admired many different
composers over his lifetime - a notion that does not resonate with
what is known about his character and disposition. In fact, his
history of multifarious borrowings is in itself unequivocally
indicative of a lack of originality and true creativity. Even allowing
for a degree of influence from predecessors and contemporaries that is
inevitable in any compositional process, the amount of overt imitation
in Mozart's music is considerable, one might even say excessive, to
the extent that it reveals a clear pattern that cannot be ignored:
upon being exposed to a new work or group of works by another
composer, Mozart's next compositions, written shortly after his
exposure, betrayed thematic, harmonic, motivic and/or rhythmic
similarities with, or borrowings from, these predecessors. This is not
the practice of a talented composer endowed with musical genius,
especially as Mozart did not, in the majority of cases, use these
'influences' as a springboard to create his own individual expression.
To emulate or borrow from the music of another composer once, even
twice or three times, might be considered an homage, but to do so
repeatedly, not just from one but from many different composers,
cannot be considered anything but plagiarism, and in plagiarizing from
Haydn, Mozart knew he was taking from the very best the musical world
had to offer at that time.

As such, Mozart's competence as a composer is necessarily disputable,
and one is forced to question the quality of his output. It has been
observed that Mozart's church music of the Salzburg period "is full of
internal contradictions", and that much of it "appears to juxtapose
the serious and the deeply felt with the flippant and the
superficial". This incongruity has been attributed to Mozart's
antipathy towards his employer, the archbishop Colloredo, and his
"ambivalence toward Church dogma", which supposedly manifested itself
in an inconsistent and eclectic output motivated by retaliation. It
has been argued that Mozart "quite often allows the effect of a work
to be marred in one way or another, almost as though he cannot resist
the impulse to mock his employer, even though it may mean spoiling his
own creation". Yet, the explanation does not ring true for many
reasons. A true artist would not intentionally and repeatedly ruin his
work for the sake of getting back at someone - to do so would be
incredibly childish and stupid, not to mention unpropitious,
especially if, as in Mozart's case, the security of his post was
dependent upon him providing suitable and acceptable music that
satisfactorily fulfilled the stipulated requirements. Moreover, given
that Colloredo was the only one willing to employ him, regardless of
his feelings towards the archbishop, Mozart simply did not have the
luxury to indulge in antics of this sort, and, indeed, the
contradictions in his music are rather better explained by the adage,
"Do not ascribe to malice that which is adequately explained by
incompetence". Certainly there were those amongst his contemporaries
and subsequent generations who viewed Mozart as incompetent, and
various other instances in his works and career that strongly suggest
the same. From the beginning, a discerning critic wrote "that his
compositions showed such 'early fruit' to be 'more extraordinary than
excellent'" (Roselli 1998: 16), and this notion of mediocrity was one
that would continue to resurface throughout his life. Upon hearing his
quartet K.465, Mozart's contemporary, Giuseppe Sarti, concluded that
Mozart lacked compositional skill, and modern-day critics have noted
the incongruity within the work as a whole (Cavett-Dunsby 1991: 223).
Mozart's apparent inability to develop his thematic material was
probably symptomatic of this lack of skill. His treatment of sonata
form, characterized by short development sections that are typically
devoid of any real development or working out of the material, but are
rather brief periods of tonal instability that merely serve to
separate the outer two sections, is a case in point. By comparison,
the best composers of the period were experimenting with thematic
manipulation and development of ideas, something that would be more
fully realized in the Romantic period.

Mozart's music for the Freemasons has also come under scrutiny for
being lack-lustre and ordinary, and various scholars have conceded
that "these compositions, 'all but one, never rise above a middling
artistic level'; some are 'banal'. 'Four-square' and 'routine' also
fit these songs, duos and cantatas; some of the choruses (male only,
of course) evoke a German glee club" (Roselli 1998: 116). To justify
their mediocrity by arguing that the recipients of such music had
little or no musical inclination is to not only ignore the fact that
many members of the Freemasons were professional musicians, or at
least musically cultured, but an attempt to dismiss Mozart' s failure
to produce music correspondent with his posthumous reputation. Even in
such a work as Ein musikalischer Spass, with its allegedly deliberate
musical ineptitude, the parody is neither subtle, intelligent nor
witty (as in Haydn), but is crude and clumsy, with "unusual bar
lengths and tedious strumming on tonic and dominate . instrumental
entries which seem to come in too soon or too late, and conspicuous
lack of motivic development" (Cavett-Dunsby 1991: 224). It is the kind
of parody to be expected from a musical simpleton, and a work that
Einstein called "a negative 'key' to Mozart's whole aesthetic"
(Cavett-Dunsby 1991: 224). "The danger, as Jahn has observed, is that
'it is only by context that we can be assured that no actual mistake
has happened, and that the composer does not deserve to be hissed at
on his own account'" (Cavett-Dunsby 1991: 225). Otto Jahn was one of
the first important Mozart scholars, and the conditional nature of his
observation is important. What if the incompetence exhibited was not
entirely intentional, but only partially so, concealed by the nature
of the context?

Various aspects concerning the composition of Abduction from the
Seraglio seem to indicate that incompetence on Mozart's part had a
hand in shaping the final product, and the curiosities noted in John
Roselli's account certainly begin to make sense with this in mind. The
opera's librettist was Johann Gottlieb Stephanie, and, on more than
one occasion, Mozart demanded that Stephanie rewrite the libretto to
accommodate music which he had already composed, a demand which it was
Stephanie's prerogative to refuse, and one which should not have been
necessary for someone of Mozart's reputed ability. Roselli states
that, "It was almost certainly [Mozart] who demanded a lavish quartet
as the new Act 2 finale; the quartet, marvellous in itself, put in the
shade the climax of the story in Act 3 - the failed abduction itself,
now reduced to speech" (1998: 87). That Mozart should have composed
the music first without apparent consideration for the words is
strange, especially given that the words are what define the plot, and
the plot is the central feature of an opera - without it, there can be
no opera. Moreover, the fact that Mozart's quartet diminished and
overshadowed the climax is an absurd and critical error, which shows
in no uncertain terms not only an utter lack of appreciation for the
dynamics of the story, but also that he lacked the ability to bring
forth that story in an effective musical sense - a shortcoming already
observed in La finta giardiniera. One can only surmise that Mozart
adopted this practice because he could not compose to suit the
libretto, and perhaps even had to procure parts of the music from
other sources. Aside from arrogance, it offers the most likely
explanation for his subsequently unreasonable and inappropriate
interactions with his librettists. A case in point: following
Seraglio, he commenced on another opera with Varesco, to which Mozart
demanded, "if the opera was to succeed Varesco 'must alter or recast
the libretto as much and as often as I wish'". As it turned out,
however, Mozart eventually gave up on the work (Roselli 1998: 89). In
terms of Seraglio's arias, Mozart composed a coloratura aria ('Martern
aller Arten') for the heroine, Konstanze, in quick succession to her
aria of sorrow, and prefaced it with a ritornello 60 measures in
length, during which time "she and her captor (who has just threatened
her with torture) have to stand glaring at one another" - inducing an
unnecessary and ill-timed suspension of the drama. Whilst Roselli
states that the reason behind this may have been to accommodate the
singer, he further contends "A more fundamental reason for his writing
'too many notes' in 'Martern aller Arten' and elsewhere was sheer
delight in the orchestra", and that "In Seraglio music-making at times
got out of hand" (1998: 87). It could otherwise be argued that a true
artistic talent would have shown greater sensitivity to the other
components of the opera and behaved more responsibly, and that it was
incompetence rather than zeal which produced the work's shortcomings.

Mozart's attempt to compose for Der Schauspieldirektor (The
Impresario) in 1786, to another libretto by Stephanie, is yet another
telling incident. The opera was to be presented at court together with
one by Salieri, the plot of which similarly involved rivalries amongst
operatic artists. But, where Salieri was able to deliver a successful
score, "All Mozart could get out of his was a sparkling overture, two
mock-display arias, and a brisk little trio" (Roselli 1998: 89). It
has been postulated that Mozart had the poorer libretto to work with,
but his failure was more likely a reflection of the disparity between
himself and Salieri, the latter being an accomplished composer, even
by modern standards, who was much more successful.

Then, in his penultimate year, Mozart composed an opera that surpassed
the level of disfavour with which Don Giovanni and Figaro were
received, and which, with its middling musical score, was accepted "as
a routine comic opera" and nothing more - Cosi fan tutte (1790)
(Roselli 1998: 98). Criticized for being degrading to women, censure
and derision of the opera from both musicians and the public continued
well into the nineteenth century, as did the poor opinion of the
music; Wagner himself considered it no better than mediocre (Roselli
1998: 99). Only in recent times have attempts been made to revive it.

Thus, far from being a compositional genius and creative force, one is
left with the undeniable impression of Mozart as rather a master of
appropriation and imitation, and a musical hack, who was guilty of
fraud and deception. The doubtful might well ask if Mozart was indeed
capable of this, and if it was even in keeping with his character, and
the answer to this is most definitely 'yes'.

Mozart's boorish and vulgar nature is a little-known fact amongst the
public at large, and one that is seldom publicized or mentioned even
within musical circles. It was this crude demeanour that Milos Forman
aptly captured in the film, Amadeus, though, judging by all accounts,
his portrayal of the composer was a somewhat watered-down version of
his real personality. Mozart 's correspondence, littered with
obscenities, well testifies to this fact, and it has been noted that
not until he was 24 years of age did he even manage to write "for the
first time. his favourite 'little cousin' ('Bäsle') Maria Thekla
Mozart a letter that was not a cascade of nonsense language ferrying
obscenities and innuendos, must of them cloacal" (Roselli 1998: 23).
However, Mozart's questionable character extends beyond him simply
being a lout. There is ample evidence that he was morally corrupt,
untruthful, lazy, unreliable, irresponsible, arrogant and a generally
unsavoury person.

Mozart was not always truthful in his letters to friends and family,
and it is known that on more than one occasion he deliberately misled
his own father about his activities and lied about how many works he
had composed to conceal his idleness. Leopold frequently had need to
reproach his son on various counts throughout his life, including
Mozart's negligence and thoughtlessness, and whilst his remonstrances
have in the past garnered negative criticism, it has now been
acknowledged that "There is evidence that . Leopold was right" and
fully justified in his treatment of his son. In many of his letters,
Leopold repeatedly had to urge his son to make the effort to secure
employment, instead of whiling away his time on pleasure and frivolous
pursuits. After his tour to Munich in 1777, it had been decided that
Mozart should go on to Paris where the opportunities were probably
greater, but, instead, Mozart informed his father that he was going to
follow the Weber family in pursuit of their daughter Aloysia, who
neither cared for him and was otherwise engaged. Leopold warned him
about their financial straits and the need to be hard working, and in
response Mozart penned a thoughtless letter, "Half of it nonsense
greetings to the whole alphabet" (Roselli 1998: 31). Then, in a
subsequent letter to his father, Mozart back-pedalled, stating that he
had never intended to follow the Webers, and eventually did go to
Paris. However, "There he failed. His failure was professional and
social". Quite simply, Mozart refused to do what was required to find
a post. There was apparently some talk of a possible position as court
organist at Versailles, but such was his arrogance and sense of
self-importance that "he would have none of it: he must be court
composer or nothing" (Roselli 1998: 33,34). In Paris, Mozart was
reliant upon the hospitality of an old patron of the family, Baron
Melchior Grimm, who provided him with house and board. He too
disapproved of Mozart's conduct, and, when Mozart began to quarrel
frequently with him, effectively "bundled him out of Paris". This was
upsetting, but certainly not surprising, to Leopold, who was well
aware of his son's flaws. In 1782 he wrote that his son was "far too
patient, or rather easygoing, too indolent, perhaps even too proud, in
short, that he is the sum total of all those traits which render a man
inactive", and that "if he is not actually in want . becomes indolent
and lazy" (Roselli 1998: 28,29).

After the Paris failure Mozart was to return to Salzburg, where his
duties in service of the archbishop awaited him. But, against his
father's wishes once more, Mozart went to Nancy, Strasbourg and then
to Mannheim, in the hopes of running into the Webers (who had by then
already left). Leopold was furious, and with good reason. He had had
to finance all of Mozart's tours, and, instead of gainfully applying
himself, "His son was driving him further into debt while building
'castles in the air'" (Roselli 1998: 35). Mozart claimed to love his
father, yet time and again let him down and failed in his duties as a
son, promising to support him and send money (as was done in those
days), but never in fact doing so; nor did he recognize that he owed
his early touring successes to his father's "careful planning and
painstaking arrangements", or care about the strain he was now placing
him under (Steptoe 1991: 106).

For his part, Leopold tried on numerous occasions to secure a good
post for his son, but to no avail - no one would have him. Despite
such dismal prospects, Mozart was neither grateful for his Salzburg
employment nor diligent in carrying out his duties there. The loaded
remarks found in Michael Haydn's Salzburg contract hint at the extent
of Mozart's negligence: "Michael's duties were to be the same as
'young Mozart's', 'with the additional stipulation that he show more
diligence, instruct the chapel [choir] boys [in keyboard playing], and
compose more often for our cathedral and church music'", instructions
which Mozart had failed to comply with (Roselli 1998: 40). In 1775,
Mozart arrogantly requested his discharge from the service of the
archbishop "with a reference to the parable of the talents in the
Gospel: it would not do to leave his talents hidden", and to which the
archbishop replied, "'Father and son herewith granted permission to
seek their fortune according to the Gospel'" (Roselli 1998: 45).
Fortunately, Leopold was able to save his own position, and even
subsequently managed to get Mozart reinstated for after the
above-mentioned Paris tour, showing, as Roselli contends, that the
archbishop was not a vengeful man, and that Leopold was dedicated to
helping his son. Yet, as has been seen, Mozart clearly did not
appreciate his father's efforts or the archbishop's generosity,
choosing instead to blow it off in favour of chasing after Aloysia
Weber, and, after eventually returning to Salzburg, showing that he
was nothing but ungrateful. He frequently complained about not being
able to reach his full potential in Salzburg's poor musical climate, a
criticism which, like so many other things he wrote, was not only
exaggerated but untrue (Roselli 1998: 80), and insisted that his
duties were holding him back from achieving greater success elsewhere.
He also frequently insulted his colleagues and showed nothing but
contempt and disrespect for the archbishop in letters that he surely
knew would be checked. What is clear is that Mozart had no respect for
the conventions of the time concerning the place and duties of a
musician, conventions that all composers of the day, including Haydn,
did abide by. It was only a matter of time before this kind of
inexcusable behaviour would no longer be tolerated by the archbishop.
That time came in 1781.

In March 1781, the archbishop took Mozart with him to Vienna, during
which time Mozart became further disgruntled at being seated "below
the personal valets and above the cooks" (Roselli 1998: 46). When it
was time for them to leave, Mozart moved to the Webers (who happened
to be in Vienna) and refused to return to Salzburg. He questioned,
"Was he to give up all this [i.e. the prospect of being in Vienna]
'for the sake of a malevolent prince who plagues me everyday and only
pays me a lousy salary'"? (Roselli 1998: 46). Yet, it should be
remembered that this "malevolent prince" was the only one in the whole
of Europe who would employ him, and who had seen fit to take him back
once before, and whose "lousy salary" had sustained him for many
years. The archbishop consequently fired Mozart, calling him a
"'rascal'" and "'dissolute fellow'", and Mozart remained in Vienna,
completely unconcerned that his behaviour may have jeopardized his
father's employment as well.

Now left to his own devices, Mozart tried to secure a permanent
position in Vienna. But, true to form, failed to do so. It is clear
that he was widely viewed as a liability rather than an asset -
someone who was unable to act with decorum or perform his duties
properly. The Empress Maria Theresa had called him "useless", and had
warned her son off people like him, saying, "'If they are in your
service it degrades that service when these people go about the world
like beggars'" (Roselli 1998: 39), sentiments which Colloredo had also
expressed. Mozart dealt with his continual failure by casting blame on
others and complaining of not being appreciated. Yet the idea that
Mozart was perpetually hard done by at every turn (which only arises
from the reputation he holds today), wears thin, and begs the question
of whether in fact his treatment was well deserved, which, it becomes
increasingly evident, it was. The disparity between his own
expectations and self-image and the reality of the situation suggests
that he was both arrogant and deluded. His international aspirations
and desire for fame clearly indicate that he was not really interested
in composition, but rather hungered for wealth and prestige, and was
resentful when he did not get it. His resentment towards the
aristocracy was not borne of any sense of injustice at class
distinction per se, but a sense of injustice at not being one of them.
It really was a case of sour grapes, because, as was widely known, he
had expensive tastes and frequently aspired to their level and
affluence, but failed. His joining the Freemasons in 1784 was very
much motivated by the chance to interact on equal footing with some of
Vienna's leading aristocracy and most influential officials, rather
than any lofty ideals. It has been acknowledged that he certainly did
not share any of their esoteric interests and was not a spiritual man.
His "Zoroastrian riddles", written in 1786, are "not so much arcane as
bawdy; .. The riddles confirm Mozart's delight in . obscene jokes" and
"what is certain is that they do not show Mozart delving into the
occult" (Roselli 1998: 113).

What is more, he apparently did not hold to any spiritual or moral
values. His father suspected and feared that he was a womaniser who
had compromised innocent girls, including his young cousin, to which
Mozart defensively replied, "'If I had to marry all those with whom I
have jested I should have two hundred wives at least'". The comment,
Roselli notes, was "to deny - perhaps untruthfully - any serious
entanglement with Constanze Weber" (Aloysia's sister) (1998:61), whom
he was eventually obliged to marry, and whom, evidence suggests, he
was subsequently unfaithful to.

Besides his infidelity, Mozart also gambled, and it was this vice
which undoubtedly put him into debt, explaining his "sudden, repeated
borrowings of amounts large and small" (Roselli 1998: 72). It has been
calculated that "though Mozart's estimated income would not have
brought wealth, it should have been enough to support him and his
family in some style and leave him reasonably free from care.
Nevertheless - the earliest evidence dates from February 1783, six
months after [his] wedding - Mozart frequently borrowed money, often
in a hurry and pleading urgent need" (Roselli 1998: 71), and his
records show that he had "outstanding debts and heavy expenditure"
beyond everyday living expenses (Roselli 1998: 71).

This financial circumstance has caused doubts to be raised over the
truthfulness of Mozart's reports about his tours to his father, and
whether the accounts of his earnings "masked his gambling losses".
Many have acknowledged that Mozart "was apparently willing to misstate
his earnings" to suit his purposes, both to family and friends. His
attempt to borrow money in December 1789 is a commonly cited example:
"he told his friend and long-suffering creditor Michael Puchberg, from
whom he urgently wished to borrow 400 florins, that he would soon
collect a fee for Cosi fan tutte of 900 florins, but the imperial
accounts show only a payment of the standard fee for an opera of 450
florins" - clearly, "Mozart, in a tight corner, lied to his friend"
(Roselli 1998: 72).

Given this and other misdemeanours, and his obvious dissolute
character, it is not surprising that eyewitnesses and early
biographers "talked of Mozart' s 'weaknesses', 'human failings',
'hazardous' contacts, and 'debaucheries'", words with serious
implications both then and now. What we are faced with is a man who
was lewd and behaved like an imbecile, who frequently lied, who lacked
any sense of morality or moral responsibility, who practiced deceit,
and who was ambitious, but lacked any real or exceptional talent. It
is inexplicable that such a person could be capable of writing
spiritual or uplifting music, or of eloquent and deeply felt
expression. That Mozart was deliberately underhanded in his musical
practices indeed seems certain, and it is patent that what has been
called 'indebtedness' and 'influences' were actually symptoms of his
creative poaching and thievery. Indeed, his habitual practice of
copying the works of other composers can have no other reasonable
explanation other than he wished to plagiarize from them and/or pass
them off as his own, which is in fact what happened in a number of
instances. The argument is further strengthened by the fact that,
viewed within the context of his own time, Mozart was, for all intents
and purposes, nothing more than a run-of-the-mill composer who failed
to rise above mediocrity, and whose status reflected as much. How such
a composer could be elevated to greatness and subsequently inducted
into the canonic ranks is the issue that remains to be addressed. The
explanation has to do with the formation of the musical canon itself.

The western musical canon is essentially an Austro-German musical
canon, the invention of which took place over the course of the
nineteenth century, and whose "ideological significance" issued from
its association "with a dominant national culture, perceived as both
specifically German and at the same time representative of universal
values, a paradox well in tune with German classical art and the new
philology" (Samson 1995: 96). Integral to the formation of this canon
was music publishing, the leading firm of which was Breitkopf and
Härtel. Beginning in 1850, Breitkopf began publication of an extended
series of collected editions of the works of major composers that
centred almost exclusively on the Austro-German school. Completed over
a 40-year period, it helped to consolidate the notion of a German
musical tradition, and effectively gave "official" recognition to its
chosen composers, bestowing upon them the status of a "great" composer
and the connotations of prestige and value the title carried with it.
Mozart's transition from mediocrity to greatness was facilitated by
his inclusion in this series. Left to deal with his outstanding debts
following his death, Mozart's widow, Constanze, campaigned and lobbied
publishers to buy her husband's autographs, to the extent that,
"within a few years she consolidated Mozart's reputation by selling
many of his works to leading German publishing houses" (Roselli 1998:
158). Among these were Breitkopf and Härtel, who purchased about 40
autographs for their projected collection, the rest of the autographs
going to the publisher Johann Anton André. Mozart's inclusion in the
Breitkopf series cannot be viewed as anything other than ideologically
convenient, and a necessary stylistic bridge between Bach and Handel,
and Beethoven and Schubert for the sake of continuity. His inclusion
was nonetheless fortuitous. As is widely known, the Austro-German
canon wielded tremendous influence throughout Europe, and commentators
have remarked on its "practical and ideological force". It facilitated
the promotion of certain composers and the marginalization of others,
whilst "Ideologically it manipulated an innocent repertory to confirm
the social position of a dominant group in society" (Samson 1995: 96).
By inclusion, Mozart automatically garnered universal approval - and
so the myth was born, to be augmented and coloured by the Romantic
ethos. For instance, it has now been acknowledged that "Mozart as a
spontaneous artist who composed music in his head and wrote it down
without a second thought is a romantic fiction" (Roselli 1998: 42). It
is also worth noting that the phraseology that has been used to
describe his music is not grounded in any truth, but rather belongs to
this Romantic vocabulary that has been passed down and repeated over
the centuries with little thought for its validity; in the same breath
critics have widely pronounced that Mozart changed the course of
musical composition, yet was a traditionalist "who took the musical
language of the day as he found it" (Roselli 1998: 4), without
realizing the contradiction and incompatibility of the two statements.

Thus, the connotations of greatness that surround the name of Mozart
stem from a reputation that was created posthumously, and which was
conveniently bolstered by his notoriety as a child prodigy. It is this
wrongful inclusion and elevation into the canonic ranks that has led
to musical talent being erroneously equated with compositional skill
and creative genius - qualities that are neither correlative nor
equivalent. This misconception, and the skewed historical perspective
it has spawned and influenced, represents one of, if not the greatest
transgressions in musical history. It is high time that scholars and
Mozartians take off the rose-coloured glasses and view the facts
without reference to an image or ideal of the composer which is not
only illusory but fraudulent, and give due credit to the real masters
of the Classical period.

Works Cited

Cavett-Dunsby, Esther. 1991. "A Conspectus of Mozart's Music". In The
Mozart Compendium: A Guide to Mozart's Life and Music. Ed. H.C.
Robbins Landon. London: Thames and Hudson. 206-238.

Eisen, Cliff. 1989. "Salzburg under Church Rule". In The Classical
Era: From the 1740s to the end of the 18th Century. Ed. Neal Zaslaw.
London: Macmillan. 166-185.

-------. 1991. "Sources for Mozart's Life and Works". In The Mozart
Compendium: A Guide to Mozart's Life and Music. Ed. H.C. Robbins
Landon. London: Thames and Hudson. 160-191.

-------. 1991. "The Music: Symphonies". In The Mozart Compendium: A
Guide to Mozart's Life and Music. Ed. H.C. Robbins Landon. London:
Thames and Hudson. 255-262.

Heartz, Daniel. 1995. Haydn, Mozart and the Viennese School 1740-1780.
New York: Norton.

Humphreys, David. 1991. "The Origins of Mozart's Style: Sacred". In
The Moza rt Compendium: A Guide to Mozart's Life and Music. Ed. H.C.
Robbins Landon. London: Thames and Hudson. 83-87.

Rice, John A. 1989. "Vienna under Joseph II and Leopold II". In The
Classical Era: From the 1740s to the end of the 18th Century. Ed. Neal
Zaslaw. London: Macmillan. 126-165.

Robbins Landon, H.C. "The Music: Doubtful and Spurious". In The Mozart
Compendium: A Guide to Mozart's Life and Music. Ed. H.C. Robbins
Landon. London: Thames and Hudson. 351-354.

Robbins Landon, H.C. and David Wyn Jones. 1988. Haydn: His Life and
Music. n.c: Thames and Hudson.

Roselli, John. 1998. The Life of Mozart. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.

Samson, Jim. 1995. "Chopin Reception: Theory, History, Analysis".
Musica Iagellonica. 91-114.

Steptoe, Andrew. 1991. "Mozart as an Individual: Family Background".
In The Mozart Compendium: A Guide to Mozart's Life and Music. Ed. H.C.
Robbins Landon. London: Thames and Hudson.102-103.

-------. 1991. "Mozart's Appearance and Character". In The Mozart
Compendium: A Guide to Mozart's Life and Music. Ed. H.C. Robbins
Landon. London: Thames and Hudson.104-107.

Wyn Jones, David. 1991. "The Origins of Mozart's Style: Instru
(Message over 64 KB, truncated)

hi Mats,

--- In metatuning@yahoogroups.com, Mats Öljare <oljare@h...> wrote:

>
> But we all know Salieri killed him, so we should feel sorry for him
> anyway... /Ö
>
>
> Exploding The Myth Of Mozart
> By Dr. Pei-Gwen South
> 12-1-3

very interesting article! thanks!!

-monz