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December 1787: Mozart receives the aristocratic privilege of “Court Composer” to Holy Roman Emperor Joseph II: The real story of the Emperor, Salieri and Wolfgang Mozart
Fans of the epic film and writer Peter Shaffer’s masterpiece “Amadeus” will be familiar with the character of Antonio Salieri.
In the film, Salieri is cast as a deeply jealous and envious musical rival of Mozart - possessive character traits that only serve to underscore an incessant need to be the Emperors favorite, a goal he attempts to accomplish (often in vain) through a series of deviously underhanded coups d’etat against a gifted young ‘harpsichordist’ (as Mozart was then known in Vienna), whose talent so obviously superseded his own.
The real Salieri is less devious, the real story less scandalous, and the events that culminated in his appointment as teacher to Princess Elisabeth (and later Conductor to the Italian Opera) the result, not of expertly executed manipulations behind the scenes, but rather of a series of matters of circumstance and noble connections within Holy Roman Emperor Joseph II’s royal sphere.
Although Shaffer’s original play makes it clear
that Salieri did not murder Mozart, director Miloš
Foreman wanted to go in a different direction with
the script, drawing on ‘confessions’ (later recanted
and proven false) by an elderly and insane Salieri,
who claimed to have poisoned the composer, from
inside of his cell in an ‘Insane Asylum’ in 1823.
Even after this was dismissed both by witness
accounts and by Salieri himself, the idea of a jealousy
inspired kill proved so salaciously popular even
Alexender Pushkin wrote a play using this theme
which he had published in 1830.
(..and for the record, Salieri not only had nothing to do with the death of Mozart, the then-middle-aged composer was nowhere near the ailing Wolfgang in his final hours: the illustrious Requiem Mass in D minor was in part dictated to, and later finished by an altogether different composer: one Franz Xaver Süssmayr). It was he who was at the dying composer's bedside.
In “Amadeus”, we see a frustrated Mozart being used as a pawn through a series of angst-fuelled orchestrations devised by Salieri to thwart the young composer from receiving several critical appointments of note - in one instance, blocking the efforts of Constanze, Mozart’s wife, who is sexually manipulated by the scandalous Salieri - from influencing the Emperor’s decision to cast the best available vocal coach for his visiting niece, Princess Elisabeth. Constanze had Mozart in mind for the post, as did Mozart himself.
After Mrs. Mozart arrives with several works-in-progress of her husband Mozart, the envious and devious minded Salieri immediately brews up a series of defamatory incriminations so foul the Emperor would not only see fit to secure for the post an inadequate vocal coach in the form of one Herr Zimmer, Salieri chose to go the full nine yards, and attempted to discredit the person and character of Mozart himself, accusing him before the Emperor of having molested one of his own pupils (a Maria Theresa Paradis).
As it was portrayed in the film, it was in fact Salieri, not Wolfgang, who was mixed up in such carnal sin: overcome by the sheer beauty of the Kyrie from Mozart's Mass in C Minor,* Salieri, brewing over the unfinished compositions - all originals - provided to him by a desperate Constanze, is shown in a state of mixed reverie and primitive outrage at the "God"-like talent of his musical nemesis, that he immediately proceeds to extort the young bride Mozart by ensuring her husband the post in exchange for carnal delights.
In reality, the prospect of the Royal post was first brought to the attention of Mozart by one Maximilian Francis, Archduke of Austria (younger brother of Emperor Joseph II), who had arrived at the Imperial Court in the late fall of 1781 alongside Princess Elizabeth, wife of Duke Karl Eugen of Württemberg, both of whom had been on a visit to the Court since mid-November of that year to celebrate the upcoming nuptials of Archduke Francis and his intended bride-to-be).
Archduke Maximilian Francis tried hard to gain
Mozart an appointment with Princess Elisabeth.
The Archduke Francis (“Franz”) had fully expected to become Elector of Cologne, and had promised the position of Kapellmeister to an ever hopeful Mozart, even going as far to give the stalwart composer a notice of confirmation: a consent from the Princess herself, when the Emperor unexpectedly appointed Salieri to the position instead. The reasons for this turn-around were less than back-biting: even at this stage of Mozart’s career as a gifted composer who had already taken Italy by storm, most of the Imperial household, and indeed Vienna itself, knew of Wolfgang only as a virtuosic prodigy on the harpsichord,** who could outwit, and out play even the best contenders on the keyboard, and a former child prodigy whose compositions for the instrument and variations on the works of other prolific musicians left all of Salzburg riveted..but he was not known to Vienna or the Emperor as a vocal composer. Mozart had wished to establish himself not only as the keyboard prodigy Vienna knew him to be, but also as a fully capable and irrepressible mentor and vocal coach to the young Princess. This was not to be for the hopeful musician.
**(this would, however, begin to change following the premiere of Wolfgang Mozart’s opera ‘singspiel’ Die Entführung aus dem Serail in mid-July the following year in 1782. The opera was a success with the Viennese public from a critical perspective, however it’s contract did not not allow for any form of residuals from further performances, and as such, did not bring Mozart the financial return he had so hoped for in the long run. It was during this period in which Mozart would succumb to gambling and entertaining excess in a desperate attempt to secure for his budding family financial stability, and likely, as a means to an outlet in which he could work off the frustrations of not being recognized by Joseph II with a nomination for a musical position within the Imperial Court itself.
Wolfgang fully expected to see substantial monetary gain as his fame began to grow within Viennese musical circles, however this was not happening at the rate he had envisioned - and in 18th Century Vienna, it was almost impossible for a musician to make for himself a comfortable living without securing a steady court post. Mozart would not premiere another major operatic work in Vienna until four years later, with the 1786 production of Le Nozze di Figaro).
Holy Roman Emperor Joseph II would finally
relent to Mozart, nominating him Court Composer following the death of Gluck in 1787
In reality, Wolfgang’s abilities in all arenas, astonishingly, would not be recognized in the way Mozart felt they should be received amongst the Imperial court until much later, in December of 1787, when Mozart finally obtained a steady post as ‘chamber composer’ under the aristocratic patronage of Emperor Joseph II, following the death of Wolfgang’s predecessor to the post, early-classical composer Christoph Gluck. There was a bit of deviousness in play here - but it’s antagonist was not that of Antonio Salieri, but rather of the Emperor himself, who was later proved through court documents to have relented to Mozart his wish for court appointment only to keep the young composer contractually bound to him and to Vienna. It seems Joseph II had royal coffers to fill at the expense of the then flourishing composer.
Salieri’s role in the events of 1781, by all accounts, was at best marginal, and in fairness, that of the politics and slower pace of the era and Imperial Court itself. The passing over of Mozart for Salieri in the role of royal maestro can arguably be viewed as the common sense of the reigning Holy Roman Emperor. Joseph II had known Salieri since his pubescent years, when he had first arrived to the royal court at the tender age of 15 alongside Bohemian opera composer (and teacher to Antonio) Florian Gassman in 1766, who would introduce the budding musician to Christoph Willibald Gluck, who was later to become Salieri’s mentor.
It was through the death of Gluck
that Mozart would receive the
former's post as 'Court Composer'
to Joseph II. Both Salieri and
Mozart were much influenced
by this early-classical period
composer and tutor.
During his stay at the Imperial Court, Salieri accepted invitations to perform in chamber music sessions with Joseph II himself, leading to an eventual appointment as court composer and later Conductor to the Italian Opera in 1774. Mozart may have been recommended by the genial Archduke, but Salieri had been recommended by Gassmann, a noted composer and long-time friend of Joseph, and much respected by the Emperor. There could be no accusations of nepotism at play here: it seems the Emperor preferred the opinion of his confidante over that of his younger brother.
It was these factors, and not a devious coup, that ultimately culminated in the 'logical choice'of selecting as maestro to the young Princess Elisabeth, the composer with the most intimately known compositional and vocal coaching history available to the Emperor - and that man, at that time - was Antonio Salieri.
The accreditation Mozart so much sought in Salzburg moved at a snail’s pace, and was a far cry from the response he had experienced during his time in Italy. Despite the slower transmission of gossip in Vienna, however, it would soon be almost impossible to ignore the events that had already commenced in Italy in 1771, when a young Mozart, alongside his father Leopold, began a tour of Il Pease that would take the country by storm and would reverberate throughout Europe and secure for himself the post of chamber composer to Joseph II. No matter what the Emperor’s motives, it was inevitable that Mozart would finally receive his dues back in Salzburg as the "Logical Choice”.
It certainly took Joseph II long enough!
The famous "Miraculous" Scene from director Milos Foreman's "Amadeus":
In this scene, a pensive Antonio Salieri thumbs through several incomplete Mozart compositions, overcome by a state of intoxicating reverie. He (rightfully so) crumbles like a leaf when he happens upon the Kyrie.
*(In reality, the Mass in C Minor, K. 427 to which the Kyrie belongs was not composed until one year after Mozart applied for the post of Vocal coach to the Princess, in 1782, and the Kyrie itself was not completed until two years post-application, in 1783). There is evidence to this effect in the form of letters that survive, written by Wolfgang to his father in early January of 1783, in which he describes the state of the composition "...the score of half a mass which is still lying here waiting to be finished..." It would not premiere until late October of 1783 at St. Peter's Church in Salzburg. It was during this period when Mozart would wed Constanze, in August of 1782 - she would celebrate her newfound status as Mrs. Mozart by appearing as a guest soprano for the Mass.
Mozart in 1786, the year "The Impresario" held it's private
debut at the Holy Roman Emperor's Schönbrunn Palace on
the 7th of February.
As if the world needed more evidence that Mozart and Salieri were absolutely not mortal enemies (though at times, as is the case with any competitive duo) the occasional verbal assassinations (note: verbal is the only assassination relative to this dynamic pair),back-stabberyandone-upmanshipwould occur in an effort to further one’s position at court and fatten one’s wallet – Unraveling Musical Mythsreminds the reader of the often unspoken"Der Schauspieldirektor” (The Impresario).
The 1786 comic singspiel composed by“Wolfie” at the direct command ofHoly Roman Emperor Joseph IIthat had Salieri and Mozart ‘dueling’ over the beauty of German singspiel with Italian Opera Buffa, as portrayed through two dueling divas. Fans of the masterful filmAmadeuswill be undoubtedly familiar with the picture’s many liberties taken – however there are some documented truths in the film: Mozart was vulgar, oftentimes jealous and had a penchant for scatological humor. Salieri, according to many music historians, did indeed, on several occasions attempt to impede and suppress works by Mozart for wider recognition of his own – and that famous scene of Salieri witnessing soprano and love interest/pupilKaterina Magdalena Giuseppa Cavalieri sing her heart out to the tune of"Martern Aller Arten" ("Torture of all Kinds") from Mozart’sThe Abduction from the Seragliowhere the aging maestro, reflecting back, confesses to his Priest:
"...there she stood…Showing off like the greedy songbird she was. Ten minutes of ghastly scales and arpeggios, whizzing up and down like fireworks at a fairground!”
actually contained some truth as well, anecdotal as the movie presented the infamous scene. In fact, Mozart’s 1782 singspielDie Entführung aus dem Serail (which Mozart had, in reality, not only cast Salieri’s prized pupil in the opera, but actually wrote the part of Konstanzespecifically for her, to show off her vocal prowess and astonishing coloratura. Allegedly, she had never before showed such astonished skill under the hand of her mentor, Salieri. Yet there she stood, tall and proud on stage one-upping the teacher who didn’t believe she was quite ready for such an incredibly challenging role.
Salieri, 1786.
And that – the dazzling displays of vocal athletics, and the aforementioned one-upmanship of not only composers, preferred languages, and, in this instance, the overzealous vanity and egos of les chanteuses themselves, came to life before a private audience of 80 and the Emperor himself on this day at the theSchönbrunn Palace in Vienna in 1786. The plot, is decidedly simple enough - the arias selected, however - increasingly tempestuous as two highly skilled sopranos are pitted against one another during an audition each attempting to “out-sing” the other by one diva responding to the other’s with rapidly increasing vocal scale and coloratura technique -the duoeven taking stabs at each other (written in the libretto) to announce the defeat of the other, whilst the self-styled“winner of the competition"facetiously sings "There tolls the hour of departure," only for the other to retort back with an unkind remark of her own, directed at on the other soprano's inexperience, thus claiming herself the victor in this brazen display of ego.
Below: the famous scene from Amadeus in which Salieri's pupil Cavalieri sings Mozart's "Martern Aller Arten" (sung in English -with a non-exact translation- for the benefit of American audiences):
The setup to the dueling divas begins at the theatre of Frank: an impresario and his cohort, the buffo singer (cleverly named “Buff"), request the two singers try out for a spot in Frank’s new company. Both ladies scored a spot, so impressed were the judges – but alas, not all was kosher for either diva - each of whom, instead of celebrating what would have been a spot for only one singer, begin to quarrel over which singer will get “Top Billing”(aka the leading role) and, more importantly, who was the most deserving of the duo to earn a more handsome paycheck to rub in the other’s face. They then, unprompted, begin to belt out exceptionally difficult arias in order to further entice the judges into preferring one over the other. Abruptly, amidst all the beautiful chaos, emerges a frustrated tenor by the name ofVogelsang, whohas had enough of such embarrassing antics by the clearly talented chanteuses, and intervenes, as the three break into a trio, singing the aria, "Ich bin die erste Sängerin" ("I am the prima donna").
Holy Roman Emperor Joseph II of
Austria commissioned the
competition between Mozart and
Salieri, securing it's premiere on this
7th day of February, 1786 at the
Ruler's Schönbrunn Palace in
Vienna.
It appears Vogelsang’s intervention had formed a truce, as the former duo-cum-trio becomes quartet, with all characters singing the ethereal "Jeder Künstler strebt nach Ehre" ("Every artist strives for glory").
As for the truce? Equal star billing and two big, fat paycheques, of course. Described as a “parody on the vanity of singers", the Emperor had Mozart perform The Impresariofrom one corner of the room in German, and on the other side of the room, Salieri performed his opera buffa, Prima la musicale e poi le parole (First the Music, then the Words),in the Italian tongue in what would prove to be a tounge-in-cheek back handed slap to the whole German vs. Italian language and style of music. This is indeed notable, as aforementioned in the largely fictional “Amadeus”, several factual events seeped through – notably, the incessant quarelling over German language Opera versus Italian – a subject long debated at the Imperial Court and across Europe at the time. Joseph’s clever commission would prove, to humorous effect, the pedantic nature of operatic music in-fighting, and, perhaps, allowed some pause for both Mozart and Salieri’s unconventional familiarity with one another to be taken with a side of jest and a heavy dose of the damaging reality of overzealous egos and unbridled competitiveness.
Listen below to excerpts from the singspiel.(in separate recordings) beginning with with the aria “Da schlägt des Abschieds Stunde” ("There tolls the hour of departure”) sung by the character Madame Herz under Hungarian soprano Magda Nador (as seen in the video below), followed by Kiwi Soprano Kiri Te Kanawa singing the rondo in the role of one Madame Silberklang:"Bester Jüngling" ("Dearest Youth") in response (heard here), ending with a trio of compromise prompted by one fed-up tenor:“Ich bin die erste Sängerin ("I am the prima donna") which can be heard here: Edita Gruberova, Kiri Te Kanawa, Uwe Heillmann trio.
DISCOVER MORE:
See and listen to the full singspiel here, with original libretto intact (modern performances completely replace the lyrics to suit modern concerns and fancies).
The work – a violin concerto - believed to have been the product of a donation by 20th century renowned Canadian violinist Kathleen Parlow is set to debut in Norway as part of the International Musicological Society's annual conference in the summer of 2016. (**NOTE: See "UPDATE" at end of post).
A SONATA IN PRAGUE (A PRODUCT OF LEGENDS):
This month, an exciting and historical debut was held at the Czech Republic's Museum of Musicon Tuesday February 16th 2016. Playing for the first time a collaborative compositional effort by the composers Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and his pop-culture-implied nemesis,Antonio Salieri, harpsichordist Lukáš Vendl was effectively performing a piece that until now existed only as a product of legend. Although the four minute piece - a solo cantata - is scored for soprano accompaniment, Vendl performed as an instrumental soloist before a select group of a dozen or so spectators.[1]
Antonio Salieri
Entitled"Per la Ricuperata Salute di Ofelia" ("For the recovered health of Ophelia"),this piece for harpsichord and soprano (with libretto[2] by 18th century favorite Lorenzo da Ponte), is said to have been originally composed in the year 1785 as a tribute to English soprano Nancy Storace[3] who at various times, held employment under both Mozart and Salieri. The piece was discovered by musicologistTimo Jouko Herrmann in November of 2015 after the library at the Czech Museum of Music in Prague opted to digitize it’s archives, allowing Herrmann to research with greater attention to detail its records whilst perusing the Museums vast database. His original search query was for Antonio Casimir Cartellieri, a possible pupil of Salieri. What returned from his search would be a discovery of epic and ground-breaking proportions. The historic composition was performed this month at the Museum, likely for the first time in over two centuries and is cataloged under the Köchel numberK. 477a.
Listen below to "Per la Ricuperata Salute di Ofelia:"
[1] Asection of two stanzas from the cantata's libretto was also performed, penned by a (currently) unknown composer who contributed as a third author to the historic piece.
[2] details regarding which composer contributed to which stanzas are listed on the Wikipedia page for "Per la Ricuperata Salute di Ofelia"
[3] Storace owed her dedication to the recovery of her voice, which she has lost during an alleged ‘nervous breakdown’. It is unsurprising that both composers would choose to honor her thus: Storace was a classical erafavorite, having worked for both composers and even having earned the coveted first spot as Susanna in Mozart’s Le Nozze di Figaro. So beloved by the Viennese public was Storace, she even had compositional works created entirely for her.
UPDATE: Listen below to a recording (released by Naxos on February 10, 2017) of Norwegian violinist Henning Kraggerud performing Halvorsen's "lost" Concerto for Violin and orchestra (Op. 28) alongside the Malmö Symphony Orchestra.
The lively concerto originally held it's 'modern' premiere at Norway's Risør Chamber Music Festival on July 3, 2016 with Kraggerud performing alongside the Norwegian Chamber Orchestra:
A surprise update on the
upcoming theatrical release
inspired by Mozart's prized 1791 opera, Die Zauberflöte (The Magic
Flute) has been announced: the addition to the cast ofF. Murray Abraham, the legendary American actor who once played the role of
Antonio Salieri
in the hugely successful film adaptation of Peter Shaffer's quasi-biopic play
on Mozart,
"Amadeus,"
(dir. Miloš Forman) for which Abraham won the Academy Award for Best Actor as
the musical nemesis and self-deluded assassin of Mozart.
The addition of Abraham to the cast of the upcoming film (cr. Florian Sigl/exec. prod. Roland Emmerich) may serve to entice Mozart purists who
may pre-emptively make the decision to avoid the film due to it's deviation
from the opera's original libretto, penned by the German impresario and
singer-playwright
Emanuel Schikaneder.
The inclusion of the much beloved actor is a clever draw-in to the critics who,
in the mid 1980's and 1990's at first detested Forman's
Amadeus for its extensive use of liberties regarding Mozart's life,
but who later accepted the film as a classic following the publication of
more modern scholarship which included the release of the composers' own
unbowdlerized correspondence, and with additional attention paid to his private
collaborations with other musicians in both the creation and performance of bawdy
canons. (Strangely enough, early critics of the film focused less vitriol on the age
old, long debunked theory of Salieri poisoning his rival - a rumor which
actually did appear in the press
immediately following Mozart's demise[1]
- but more with the composers' potty mouth and rampant flatulence).
While Emmerich's The Magic Flute is expected to take on an extreme
deviation from the opera's plot by introducing new characters (chiefly, a
17-year old aspiring singer and boarding school student, who "stumbles along
a century old passageway" that will lead into the "world of Mozart's Magic
Flute"[2] and with the story
line being set in twenty first century Europe, the decision to include
Abraham, an actor much beloved for his fictional role in a not-so-accurate
retelling of Mozart's death may serve to encourage older fans who once
pooh-poohed
"Amadeus" to view the film with the expectation already in mind
that the film will be based purely on entertaining audiences, and perhaps
with the goal of drawing in younger audiences unfamiliar with Mozart to
further explore the life of the composer and his music.
According to IMDB, Abraham has been
cast in the role of one "Dr. Longbow"
(presumably a professor/conductor). Also joining the cast in the upcoming
film are soprano Sabiene Devieilhe, tenor
Rolando Villazón, and bass Morris Robinson. The forthcoming screen adaptation of The Magic
Flute is currently in post-production with an as-yet
unannounced date of theatrical release, but is expected to premiere sometime during the winter season.
Below: Listen to a heart-wrenching reading of Peter Shaffer's Amadeus by
Academy Award Winning Actor F. Murray Abraham. Achingly beautiful with light touches of gaiety, Shaffer's play would later be adapted into Forman's film of the same name. The latter of which takes on, at times, a more frivolous tone as both composers share equally the spotlight.
Salieri is both narrator and protagonist in Shaffer's original play, and Abraham excels in his reading of the tale, blending equally humor with angst - both egotistical and spiritual. Shaffer's "Salieri" invites the audience to listen to the composer's regaling of his own undoing, marred by an incessant need for vindication, leading up to his final "confession," and, ultimately, to a fate worse than - or perhaps greater than (at least in the mind of the insane former musician) - death itself. (2006, BBC Radio Drama):
This myth was based on the alleged utterance of guilt by an
insane Salieri whilst in asylum, who purportedly told caregivers he had
"poisoned" Mozart. This rumor was widely circulated in the press following
Mozart's death in 1791, leading to the mentally unstable composers'
caregivers issuing a rebuttal in print (see: footnotes,
https://unravelingmusicalmyths.blogspot.com/2018/12/introducing-new-series-mozart-files.html), denying their patient ever uttered such a statement.
In light of the 227th observance of the death of Unraveling Musical Myths' favorite composer, Wolfgang "Amadè" Mozart, I have decided to launch early the first installment in my new series on the composer"The Mozart Files: Facts vs. Fiction."
I was first inspired to create this series after reading one too many articles containing often repeated, falsified accounts of Herr Mozart in both reputable news media and on educational-themed, pop-culture-slanted websites (which shall remain nameless.) Unfortunately where Mozart is concerned, details concerning his demise and of the events that occurred post-mortem are, and have been for generations, supported by as much - or perhaps even more - grandiose tales of legend than by factual biographical data which may be quite readily cross-referenced against archival material (much of it made available for public access via the modern trend of digitizing personal letters, registers, and related memorabilia.) Sometimes, discrepancies may be traced to poor translation from the German tongue - however more often, dubious accounts of Mozart's life have simply been passed down though the musical ages - fantastical dramatizations of otherwise unremarkable events that have permeated even the seams of modern pop-culture, often the direct result of overactive imaginations, exaggerations, and through the practice of quoting from quasi-biopic, dated material rife with fiction. How fitting it is, then, to begin with the funeral of Wolfgang Amadè Mozart, which occurred today - onthe7th of December, in 1791.
The reader may already be familiar with the melancholic story of Mozart, lying stiff in his coffin, the icy chill surrounding his corpse the result not just of a severe case of rigor mortis, but of an (appropriately) dramatic storm of snow, rain, violent wind (and thunder!) which raged so untameable it forced an already ill-manned procession (which may or may not have includedFranz Xaver Süssmayr as a pallbearer) to turn back at the gates of St. Marx Cemetery. You may have even bore witness to iconography depicting the same scene - or perhaps, even more pitiably, depicting a lonesome pup, it's tail tucked in between its legs and head drooped woefully toward the earth as it follows a horse-driven hearse with his friendless Master inside - together making the doleful journey toward the graveyard under the cover of a frigid, moonless night:
"Mozarts Begräbnis" - c. 1860 engraving depicting a fabled journey of Mozart's corpse w/ poem: "Mozart's Burial"
Translation of poem into English: "As the storm roars about, on the snow-covered field / On the final path, brightened by no beam of light / He heads on alone; no eye weeps for him, / Only his loyal dog follows along, his only friend."
This portrayal, attr. Joseph Heicke bears striking similarity to an earlier coloured French Print by Pierre-Roch Vigneron, "Convoi du Pauvre" (Poor Man's Procession, c. 1800), now in Austrian archives.Ludwig van Beethoven is said to have hung a copy of Vigneron's engraving in his home as a reminder of his hero's humble burial. Even through recycled
iconography, we find material originally and wholly unrelated to Mozart take on an apocryphal association post-mortem.
. Even notable early biographers have re-told their versions of the mournful scenario: an early biography byOtto Jahnhas Mozart "receiv[ing] Benediction at St. Stephen's Church"on December 6th - shortly before winter's early sunset at 3 PM, before being accosted by
"aheavy storm of snow and rain [which was] raging...[which caused] the few friends who had assembled for the funeral procession [to stand] with umbrellas around the bier.. [the body] was then carried through the Schulerstrasse to the Cemetery of St. Mark. As the storm grew worse, the mourners decided to turn back at the gate, so that not a friend stood by when the body was lowered into the grave."[1]
The first known appearance of this sordid scene was recorded in the Vienna Morgen-Post on 28 January 1856 (a whopping 65 years after Mozart's death.) The story below which made it to print has been attributed to tavern ownerJoseph Deiner (d. 29 May 1823)of"The Silver Snake." It was printed thusly:
"The night of Mozart's death was dark and stormy; at the funeral, too, it began to rage and storm. Rain and snow fell at the same time, as if Nature wanted to shew her angerwith the great composer's contemporaries, who had turned out extremely sparsely for his burial. Only a few friends and three women accompanied the corpse. Mozart's wife was not present. These few people with their umbrellas stood round the bier, which then taken via the Grosse Schullerstrasse to the St. Marx Cemetery. As the storm grew ever more violent, even these few friends determined to turn back at the Stuben Gate, and they betook themselves to the "Silver Snake."[2]
Memorial tablet at St. Marx Cemetery, positioned at a
location believed by some to be Mozart's grave. Image:
Invisigoth67 [CC BY-SA 2.5], Wikimedia Commons
Subsequent biographers further added their own variations to this scene: InHugoRiemann's Musiklexikon (1882), Mozart's"few friends"would not even make it to the cemetery gate - already having turned back halfway through the journey to the graveyard due to the fury of the storm.Ernest Newman, in hisStories of the Great Operas, published in 1928, posits the inclusion of composersJohann Georg Albrechtsberger,Emanuel Schikaneder, the baronGottfried van Swietenand evenAntonio Salierias members of the procession."It is thought,"Newman contests, the men were there, alongside a "faithfulSüssmayr"but that"heavy snow"and"appalling" weather...drove them home."
This contradicts the account told byGeorg Nikolaus von Nissen, early Mozart biographer and second husband of Mozart's widow Constanze, who reported that Schikaneder had steered clear of the procession and funeral for the latter's stated reason that"his ghost follows me everywhere, I see him wherever I look."[3] Even more curious is the allegation made by Joseph Deiner, the aforementioned owner of the Silver Snake Tavern and progenitor of the 'stormy burial' fable, who - despite the complete absence of corroborating accounts - places himself at Mozart's funeral as a member of the procession.
Such romantic, highly dramatic accounts of Herr Mozart were part and parcel of the oft-whispered tales of intrigue and scandal that surrounded the composer's final days. We have even seen Mozart depicted on the silver screen as a sort of morbid soothsayer - foreshadowing his own death through the creation of his own Requiem (for his own funeral, no less), and on both film and stage as an unwitting 'victim' of a grotesquely envious and frighteningly duplicitous Salieri. But such Doomsday-esque rumors didn't begin with Shaffer's “Amadeus,” nor even Pushkin's account of our beloved icon's demise. Like early biographers, they simply perpetuated myths, loosely based on fantastical interpretation and wild conspiracy theories. To put things into perspective, it was as recent at 1971, on the 180th anniversary of Mozart's death, that a “new” analysis into what killed the composer was published by biographers Johannes Duda,Gunter Kerner andDieter Dalchow(“Mozart's Tod 1791-1971”) which played on an age-old hypothesis of mercury poisoning first made famous immediately following the composers death.
*Early Mozart biographer, Franz Niemetscheck
may have had ulterior motives of the financial
ilk when he sought the testimonials of a deeply
indebted Constanze following the composers
untimely death. Much of these accounts have
since been discredited through the revelation
of contemporary registers and documentation.
His publication was the first full-length account
of Mozart's life - replacing the brief, 6000-word
mini-bio published 5 years earlier by Friedrich
Schlichtgeroll in the obituary volume "Nekrolog
auf das Jahr 1791."
It was the Czech philosopher Franz Xaver Niemetscheckwho would become Mozart's first (full length) post-mortem biographer.* Mozart's widow Constanze willingly provided testimonials, both verbal and written, of her late husband's life to the critic - for Stanzi, it was a means to an economic end: Wolfgang's outstanding debts now rested squarely on her shoulders.[†] Niemetscheck certainly new how to play to a crowd - he famously printed in his biography a tale allegedly regaled upon him by the widow Mozart who claimed she had walked with a sickly Wolfgang in the Prater, whereupon he suddenly turned to face her, and, overcome with delirium, informed her “Indeed, I have been given poison.”It didn't help matters when a delayed obituary, published one week after Mozart's death in a Berliner newspaper ("Musikalisches Wochenblatt”) announced, sight unseen, the state of his corpse:“Because his body swelled after death, it is believed he had been poisoned.”
Sensing a possible payday, aspiring writers almost immediately set pen to paper, expanding on Niemetschek's poison theory: potential assassins included disgruntled Freemasons to the wealthy baron van Swieten (who funded Mozart's third-class funeral), to Salieri, who was falsely alleged to have proclaimed himself a murderer whilst incarcerated in a mental asylum (an allegation later discounted by his around-the-clock caregivers.)** The reality is, we really don't know what killed Mozart. His cause and manner of death were never officially documented, save for a vague blip in a Viennese death register, written not by an attending physician, but rather a city official (as it was not customary for a doctor to prepare a death certificate in 1791 Vienna.) It simply reads:
“On 5 December 1791, the honorable Wolfgang Amadeus K.K. Kappellmeister and chamber composer died in a small Kaiserhouse in Rauhensteinergasse in Vienna of fevered prickly heat”[4]
Excerpt from the Official death register at St. Stephen's.
Dated 6.12.1791, this timestamp is widely believed among
modern scholars to have been an error on the part of the
city official who recorded it. A known laxity in regard to
attention to detail combined with multiple contemporary
weather reports (both public and private) refute a
December 6 burial for Herr Mozart.
Given that the description offered forth in the official register is symptomatic – not diagnostic – compounded by the fact that no DNA exists of Mozart's corpse – his remains now lost to the world – one can only offer educated guesses, or, as has often been the case, substitute for fact outright fiction in order to fill in the blanks. Modern analyses frequently presented by physicians theorizing in absentia must therefore be interpreted with much caution. Regardless of advances in modern medicine and technology, one must be mindful of the primitive state of medicine in the late 18th century. The symptom of “hitziges Frieselfieber” attributed to Mozart was a common one in Mozart's time – and it ran the gamut, covering a variety of maladies, both treatable and fatal. We mustn't forget the era in which Mozart lived, thrived, and died was not far removed from medieval interpretation and treatment of disease. But what can be ascertained – and most certainly has been ascertained through the discovery of archival material are the circumstances surrounding Mozart's funeral. We now know, thanks to the revelation of contemporary documents, that Mozart's funeral did not occur on the 6th of December, nor was a violent storm brewing that afternoon. An entry in the diary of Saxon-Austrian civil servantKarl von Zinzendorf, well known to Mozart, dated 6th December 1791 (the day of the alleged funeral) describes"mild weather and frequent mist"– a far cry from a thunderous storm or frigid blizzard. Additionally, a weather report which appeared in the court sanctionedWiener Zeitung(Vienna Newspaper)speaks only of a"light north wind and temperatures hovering slightly over freezing."[5]
In other words, the skies were clear.
Groundbreaking research byDr. Carl Bär in the late 20th century would uncover even more documented evidence refuting the accounts of a December 6th burial. In an erudite report, "Mozart, Krankheit, Tod und Begräbnis" (1967, 2/ 1972), Bär would expose in detail the fine minutiae of Josephine law in regard to burials. Chiefly, Mozart's body could not have been buried in daylight hours. If "Benediction" truly occurred at 3PM, even a leisurely walking pace 4.1 km south to St. Marx would have taken under an hour, placing the funeral party at the cemetery just before 4PM. Even with the early sunset brought upon by the winter season, the sky would not have been devoid of light - the procession would have arrived at Stuben gate well before Twilight. Furthermore, a law, enforced by Joseph IIstrictly forbade even the parking of hearses in front of local taverns before sundown. Bodies were only permitted to receive burial following sunset (after 6 PM) - a by-product of an not-always irrational fear of being buried alive which had seized Vienna and even permeated the Imperial court (such events did occur - this was the 18th century.) The Emperor's new law decreed that a mandatory48 hour period must elapse before a body could be interred – an exercise in overabundant caution against the potential of an unfortunate soul being buried whilst in a coma.[6]
Not Mozart's grave: this mid-19th century lithograph, after an
original engraving, depicts the result of an official inquiry into
the "disappearance" of Mozart's corpse. Held in 1855, it relied
on the testimonies, provided no earlier than a half-century post
mortem, of an auditor (who offered memories from his youth
of being told of the location of the grave by his mother), the
dubious assertion by the Sexton at St. Marx, who claimed to
have been in possession of "Mozart's skull" (which he later
alleges he transferred to the anatomist Josef Hrytl), and from
the word of flautist Carl Scholl, whose shaky credibility lay
only in the fact that he knew Mozart personally whilst the
composer was alive. This engraving may be arguably viewed
an early example of the type of rumor, built on confusion, that
enabled later inquirers to plant the seeds of a "mass grave
theory." Note the numerous, unnamed crosses which dot the
surface of a large mound. (see: footnotes)
- "Grab von Wolfgang A. Mozart," anon., Österreich. .
This would have placed Mozart at St. Marx Cemetery on theeveningof the 7th December. Eyewitness accounts to the composers' Consecration survive which place his body at a side chapel (the Crucifix Chapel) adjacent St. Stephen's Cathedral though the night of the 6th,[7] yet the dramatic account of an afternoon burial that day continue to persist even today. Such apocryphal legends do have their place, however, in painting a picture of Mozart: a bright light, burning like a seemingly unquenchable flame – violently snuffed out by King Death storming in on his black steed, scythe at the ready to snatch away the bright beacon on the hill, resigning his soul to an empty fate within the depths of a lonely, dark abyss. We see this pitiable picture painted anew with a fresh coating as Mozart's corpse is said to have been callously tossed into a mass grave to rot among strangers – all of them too poor to have afforded a casket and individual grave, too destitute for anyone to claim them. Lost to the world. Except, nothing could be further from the truth. Mozart may have had a third-class funeral (note: not a "pauper's funeral" as it is frequently described), and one which was funded through a former colleague (by the baron van Swieten), however he was not, by modern, or even by contemporary standards, “poor.” Mozart's final year on earth was shockingly productive, and he earned a handsome enough wage to live comfortably in Vienna.[8] His debts, on the other hand, were insurmountable – he frequently borrowed more than he could pay back, his wages being spent on both frivolous (such as on a horse and carriage and an expensive apartment far larger than was necessary to house his small family) and on arguably necessary means: the sudden death and hasty burial of infant daughter Anna Maria two years previous and Constanze's spa treatments at Baden alone were enough to set Wolfgang's ledger askew.
Dramatic depictions and even Deifications of Mozart after death were not solely relegated to the literary sphere.
In this engraving by Amadeus Wenzel Böhm"Apotheose W. A. Mozart," we witness, alongside a weeping
Constanze and the couple's infant son, Franz Xaver, the "Apotheosis," or divinization of Mozart, as he transcends
the invisible barrier between earth and heaven, and between mortal man and immortal god. Note the flowing
Roman-esque coiffure sported by Mozart on his 'graveside' cameo (a nod to the god of music, Apollo, with whom the composer was often compared) and the Marian-like draped garments worn by Constanze. It is hardly a surprise that little Franz is depicted in the nude - Böhm's engraving is drenched in both pagan and religious symbolism. The presence of nine stars which form a halo (the colloquial "Crown of Immortality") around Mozart's cranium may also contain Masonic significance.
A similar depiction of an antiquated Mozart could be formerly found in a medallion of red wax over moulding, fashioned in ca. 1788 by the composers' confidante Leonhard Posch. That medal, which also depicts a long-tressed Mozart, disappeared from the Mozart Museum in Salzburg in 1945.
To begin to understand Mozart's burial – in ashaftgrave, not a “common” or “mass” grave - we must first seek to comprehend the strict by-laws enforced by Joseph II at the time of the composer's passing. On 23 August 1784, the emperor issued his“Burial Regulations of Joseph II” (Josephinische Begräbnisordnung.)[9]For reasons believed to be related to sanitation, not forgoing the possibility of being interred alive, the Emperor felt it necessary to stipulate how the body of a deceased individual could be properly disposed. His propositions included being wrapped in a linen sack and being covered in quicklime in order to aid in decomposition. By this logic, not only would the application of a caustic compound free up much needed space, the practice of dumping of corpses in linen sacks in lieu of coffins would provide the Emperor leeway to levy what he felt were fruitless expenses. These regulations, however, ignited a furore among Viennese citizens, still reeling from the scandal decades earlier of mass graves filled with victims of the plague,[10] leading to the eventual revocation of the linen sack clause, which gained legal authority on 20 January 1785 in the revised K.K. Erblande.[11]The emperor was forced to decree the burial of corpses in coffins. These were not the apocryphal “false bottomed” coffins of lore, but individual coffins, which were to be stacked, five to six on top of another in a deep vertical pit known as a shaft grave. This was not, by any means, an instruction to dig a large mass grave for the burial of untold numbers of bodies. By the time of Mozart's death in 1791, the laws governing lackluster burials previously attempted by the Josephine leadership in 1784 had been made redundant for more than half a decade - quite simply, they were no longer - and never had been - enforceable during this period.
"Allegorie auf den Genius Mozarts" (Allegory on the Genius
of Mozart) by Stich von Johann Adolf Roßmäßler depicts an
angelic putto crowning the 'god' Mozart, with a musician-angel
dictating music from the heavens to an earthly being - a play
on the age-old belief that Mozart's compositional gifts were
channeled from up on high by means of divine intervention.
As is the case with Böhm's engraving above, this too, depicts
the "apotheosis" of Mozart after death. | Österreich, 1794 |
A 3 tiered "class"-system remained in effect,[12]however - it dictated the level of ceremony (and, to an extent, the location of burial) for Viennese citizens. At the top of the hierarchy was the aristocracy - although a first class burial could be purchased even by a civilian for the right price. This has been colloquially referred to as a "Class One" funeral (not an official designation.) "Class Two" was reserved for public figures who could afford, through a last Will and Testament, donation, or other source of income a respectable "showing" (Beethoven was Class Two), and lastly and most common, there was "Class Three," to which most citizens, including Mozart belonged.
By the time of Mozart's death in 1791, the shaft grave was not at all an uncommon form of burial. It was economic for both Crown and state, and, foregoing dissolving bodies in quicklime, saved precious space. These vessels, however, often proved problematic - the graves would be cleared and re-used every nine years, leading to many a lost corpse. As of the writing of this post, we still do not know the precise location of Mozart's remains. Further compounding the issue of shaft burial was Joseph II's decision to shutter all graveyards within the city wall, and build new ones outside of it for "health concerns" at the end of the 18th century, citing a mid-sixteenth century ordinance on the same grounds. Some bodies were shifted, many were lost (Vivaldi's corpse was lost this way). This left Vienna with very limited space to bury it's increasing population. As such, the vertical shaft grave was preferred en masse, and tombstones identifying the deceased were discouraged, although memorial tablets could be affixed to the perimeter wall. Mozart's burial was not one performed in disgrace, but in necessary custom, enforced by a government seeking to rein in unnecessary expense, and was directly proportional to one's status and wealth at the time of death. This concludes this installment of Mozart Myths: Facts vs. Fiction.
Be sure to check back in periodically for the next episode!
Enjoy below an English rendition of Mozart's aria "Ruhe Sanft, Mein Holdes Leben" (Safely Rest, my chosen lover.) English soprano DameFelicity Lott sings an exquisite Zaide for the fabulous - yet fictional - masterpiece, "Amadeus," under maestro Neville Marriner.
Footnotes:
[†]It must also be mentioned that the widow Mozart, quite in contrast to her rather demure visage and unremarkable artistic talents, possessed an impressively shrewd business acumen. Whilst Mozart lay under the frozen earth at St Marx - unattended by his wife - Constanze was busy amassing what would eventually become a sizeable sum and liveable wage on Terra firma. Her activities following her husband's untimely demise were carefully orchestrated to both exploit her status as the lonesome widow of a remarkable genius, and to fully capitalize, to the best of her efforts, on Mozart's legendary status. Much has been made by biographers writing on Constanze about a free-verse poem, allegedly written in her own hand, in Wolfgang's Stammbuch (visitor album) adjacent a dedication made by the composer himself to a fallen friend and former doctor who had recently passed. That poem, which reads:
"What you wrote long ago, in honor of your friend, I repeat here for you, weighed down as I am by grief. Beloved husband! Mozart! Immortal for me and for the whole of Europe, you too, are at rest, now - forever!! At one hour after midnight, during the night of December 4 to 5th of this year, He departed, in his 36th year - too soon, Oh! how much too soon - eight years bound us together with an affectionate, indelible bond! Oh! that I may soon be united with you forever. your wife, distraught with grief Vienna, December 5th, 1791 Constanze Mozart née Weber."
Mozart's widow Constanze proved to be
ever the shrewd businesswoman following
her famous husband's death.
has clearly been "pre-dated" (i.e. written at a much later date following Mozart's funeral, and subsequently added to the Stammbuch under the date of his death on the 5th December.) What this proves is that much like the old adage which decrees a morsel of truth must lay behind every fiction, accounts of Constanze's noticeable absence at her husband's funeral (as regaled by Joseph Deiner) were in fact, correct. But then, there were more pressing matters at hand for Stanzi - chief among them included the welfare and education of her two young sons with Wolfgang: Karl Thomas, aged 7, and 5 month-old Franz Xaver (the latter of whom would later receive an all-star tutorship under Antonio Salieri, Georg Joseph Volger, Johann Georg Albrechtsberger and Johann Nepomuk Hummel, financed through the generous donations of her late husband's former colleagues and friends - both boys would also receive education in Prague under Niemetschek, in whom Constanze would collaborate on the first post-mortem biography on Mozart.) In less than one week following Mozart's death, Stanzi petitioned Leopold II for a pension in spite of restrictions which prohibited a bereaved party from receiving one should the deceased spouse have been in the Emperor's employ for under the mandatory 10 years required. It would be at the insistence and under the influence of the residing Minister of Finance, one Count Chotek, who pointed out that
"it would seem unbecoming for the imperial court to reduce to a beggar's state the widow of a man of such rare talent who had been in the Emperor's service"
Constanze after her marriage to Herr
von Nissen. This miniature by
Thomas Spitzer showcases Mozart's
former spouse clad in a lavish gown
and donning resplendent pearls.
that Leopold conceded. Constanze was granted a small percentage of her husband's annual salary (1/3, or 800 gulden) during his tenure as Imperial Chamber Composer, which was to begin retroactively, to 1 January, 1792.
Additionally, despite playing up the role of an impoverished widow (as a potential means of avoiding paying an inheritance tax), Mozart's debtors, would by all appearances, offer a fresh start for Stanzi - Wolfgang's chief creditor (and friend), the merchant Michael Puchberg (of whom Mozart owed 1000 gulden) refused to file a claim against the deceased composer's estate, setting a trend that would be followed by Mozart's remaining creditors. According to Nissen, theirs - and Puchberg's - names and claims were unanimously absent from the customary "Notice to all Creditors." Constanze, would, however, re-reimburse Puchburg, albeit at a much later date, thanks in part to finances earned whilst holding a series of memorial concerts in her late husband's honor. The remunerations received by Constanze via the Imperial court paled in contrast to the sizable fortune Mrs. Mozart would soon make through these concerts, launched throughout Vienna and Prague with sister (and Wolfgang's former love interest) Aloysia Lange as the star attraction (performing gratis, as it were, so that all profits went straight to Stanzi and her sons), and even billing on one occasion Ludwig van Beethoven - who adored Mozart - to perform Wolfgang's piano concerto in D minor. In addition to selling her husband's manuscripts and collaborating with Franz Xaver Niemetschek in addition to future husband #2, (Georg Nikolaus von Nissen, a Danish diplomat) on a biographies detailing the life of her first (the latter work she would sell in 1828, two years following Nissen's death), Constanze was able to enjoy a comfortable, well-traveled life post-Wolfgang. Outliving Mozart by 51 years, Stanzi would perish on 6th March 1842 at the age of 80.
With Mozart having passed some nine days earlier at his home in Vienna and with his Requiem left unfinished, it fell to the Bohemian composer in Prague,Antonio Rosetti (Anton Rösler)to provide the customary Mass for the Dead at a memorial service held in the Czech capital, where a ceremony was all but expected for the celebrated departed.
Mozart had strong ties to Prague and had been in the city mere months before his untimely death – he had been commissioned to write an opera forEmperor (Leopold II's) coronation festivities. La Clemenza di Tito would premiere at the still-standing Estates Theatre on the the 6th of September – three months and a day prior to Wolfgang's death. By this time, Mozart was already sickly - he would fall bedridden shortly after his return to Vienna.
News of Mozart's eventual death spread like a tidal wave back in Prague. A memorial service was at once organized in the city, which took place on the 14th of December, 1791 at the Lesser Town parish Church of St. Nicholas, led by its residing regens chori, Jan Joseph Strobach. It was here, under Kapellmeister Strobach, that Rosetti "premiered" what would become known as his “Requiem for Mozart”(it was originally his Requiem in E Flat, composed to mark the death of thePrincess of Oettingen-Wallersteinin 1776.)
The citizens of Prague so loved Mozart, that the 100-plus musicians performing the mass did so without accepting a fee. Some 4000 spectators flooded the Church and surrounding area to hear the Requiem, and to bid farewell to their idol.
Listen to Rosetti's Requiem for Mozart below. The Prague Singers and Camerata Filarmonica Bohemia perform under Johannes Moesus:
Footnotes:
The results of the official inquiry into the location of Mozart's remains were announced in 1855, to
coincide with the upcoming 100th anniversary of the composers' birth. It concluded the following:
"The place where Mozart's body was buried on 6 December 1791 is a long shaped quadrilateral at St. Marx' cemetery which is in the direction of the cemetery's cross adjoining the entrance, on the right of the main path and in the fifth row of the common grave. It is planted with young willows."
** An "Attestation of Salieri's Two Attendants", being the infirmieri of the former (with a "confirmation" by
the medical attendant to the composer, one Dr. Rörhik) was penned in
Vienna on 5 June 1825 (nearly one month after the death of the composer)
and subsequently published in the October 1826 issue of Harmonicon (4, no. 46. pp. 189-90).
Seen at right, it reads:
"We the undersigned, who are, by profession, attendants on the sick (infermieri), declare, in the presence of God and man, that in the spring of 1824, we were called to attend the Cavaliere Salieri, maestro di capella
to the Royal court, and that during the whole course of his long
illness we never quitted him a single moment; that is, when one of us
was absent, the other always remained in attendance. We also attest,
that in consequence of his weak state, no one was permitted to visit him
except ourselves and his medical attendants; it being judged proper
that not even the members of his own family should see him. With
respect, therefore, to the following question put to us; Whether it
is true that the aforesaid Cavaliere Salieri had said, during his
illness, that he had poisoned the celebrated composer Wolfgang Mozart?
- we reply, upon our honour and conscience, that we never heard such
words uttered by the said Salieri, nor the slightest mention of anything
alluding to it.
In confirmation of this, we subscribe our names as follow;
GIORGIO ROSENBERG, Infermiere
AMADEO PORSCHE, Infermiere presso il Signor Salieri, Maestro di Capella di Corte.
Vienna, 5th June 1825.
N.B. Dr. Rörhik, the medical attendant of Salieri, confirms, as far as his knowledge goes, the above statement made by the two assistant infirmieri."
Author's note:
It
is worthy to note that piano virtuoso Ignaz Moscheles claimed a denial
by Salieri himself. Contained within a collection of letters and diary entries penned
by Moscheles and later published after his death by the pianist's wife
Charlotte ("Aus Moscheles Leben, Nach Briefen und Tagebüchern" ) is a recollection of a conversation shared with an ailing Salieri, in which he allegedly begs of his former pupil: "Although I am mortally ill, I assure you in good faith that there is no truth to that absurd rumor. Mozart, you know - I am supposed to have poisoned him. But no, it's malice, nothing but malice. Tell the world, dear Moscheles; old Salieri, who is about to die, told you so himself."[13]
The dubious assertion that Salieri "confessed" to "poisoning" Mozart in a state of weakened delirium has long been a rumor that just won't quit. Far from being the salacious sort of gossip spread by the whispering of lips behind closed doors and among select company, the tale of Salieri's pitiful mea culpa even made it to print: a correspondent's report from Vienna printed in the May 25 issue of the Leipzig Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung in 1825 - some thirty years following Mozart's death - reads: "Our worthy Salierijust won't die - as the popular expression goes. His body suffers all the infirmities of old age, and his mind is gone. In his distorted fantasies he actually claims to be partially responsible for Mozart's death - a bit of lunacy which surely no one but the poor, delirious old man believes."[14]
Bibliography:
[1]Slonimsky, Nicolas: "The Weather at Mozart's Funeral," The Musical Quarterly Vol. 46 No 1 p. 12, Jan. 1960, after Jahn, Otto: Life Of Mozart, Vol. III, 1856 [2]Deutsch, Otto Erich, Mozart: A Documentary Biography tr. Noble, Jeremy, 1965 [3]Nissen, Georg Nikolaus von: Biographie W.A. Mozarts, Leipzig, 1828, p. 572 [4]Bär, Carl, Mozart: Krankheit, Tod und Begräbnis, 1966 pp. 7-10 [5]Abert, Hermann tr. Spencer, Stewart, ed. Eisen, Cliff: W.A. Mozart, 2007, p. 1310 [6]Bär, Krankheit, pp. 126-157 [7]Abert, W.A. Mozart, p. 1310 [8]Keefe, Simon P.: Mozart 1st ed. (The Late Eighteenth Century Composers, excerpt: "Mozart in the Market-Place," Moore, Julia: Journal of the Royal Musical Association, 64, 1989, pp. 18-42) [9,10,11]Lorenz, Michael: "Mozart and the Myth of Reusable Coffins," 1 July, 2013 [12]Stafford, William, after Bär, Carl: The Mozart Myths: A Critical Reassessment, 1991, p. 50 [13]Braunbehrens, Volkmar: Mozart and Vienna, 1991, pp. 409 [14]ibid., p. 408
[†]Gärtner, Heinz: Constanze Mozart: After the Requiem, 1991, pp. 10-19; Cantagrel, Gilles: Mozart: Letters and Manuscripts, 2005, p. 202; Servatius, Viveca: Constanze Mozart: Eine Biografie (auf Deutsch), 2018, p. 136
