Today is the 250th birthday of one of music’s great geniuses, Mozart. According to Grove’s, he was christened Johannes Chryostomus Wolfgangus Theophilus Mozart, Wolfgang Gottlieb for short, even though he always preferred the Latin translation of his middle name, the more familiar Amadeus.
Let me join the rest of the world in a big rousing “Happy Birthday!!”
Mozart, alas, died at the age of 36. Speculation that he was poisoned has run rampant since then, fueled by his widow, who was always willing to make money from the works and remembrance of her husband. The fact of the matter is that his doctors knew quite a bit about poison and ill effects of mercury; if Mozart was poisoned, we must presume the far-fetched idea that both doctors were involved in the plot. By the way, you can tell a lot about a book on Mozart by flipping to the back and seeing what day they say he was buried. Mozart died December 5th, 1791. Local law stated that a body could not be buried until two days after death (to prevent accidental burial of someone not quite dead yet). Any book that says Mozart was buried December 6 is not to be trusted.
If you only have the opportunity to read one book about Mozart this year, make it The Mozart Myths. This little book slices and dices the legends surrounding his all-too-brief life with great skill and insight. If you have more time, consider Mozart in Vienna and Mozart’s Last Year, particularly nice for the evaluation of Mozart’s estate. I have always found the assertion that he “died a pauper” to be a little bit of an exaggeration, even before you consider that his possessions were deliberated undervalued for tax purposes — to say nothing of whatever cash Constanze might have hidden on her person.
There is one book on Mozart I must recommend you not read. I will not name it here. The author’s primary hypothesis is that Mozart’s marriage was falling apart, and indeed his younger son was actually his apprentice Sussmayr’s child. His “evidence” is that the husband and wife were not in the same city exactly 40 weeks before the child’s birth. Had the author run this idea past his own mother — or any woman who has ever been pregnant — the book would surely never have been written. Furthermore, if the author had done an additional two minutes of research, he would have found this drawing from an early Mozart biography (written by Constanze’s second husband) of a particular deformity of Mozart’s outer ear. The model was Mozart’s younger son, who inherited the condition.
As far as his music goes, don’t limit yourself to Eine Kleine Nachtmusik and the Requiem. There’s a whole world of Piano Sonatas and Operas and the Clarinet Concerto and all kinds of work for strings, as well as the much overlooked Music for Glass Harmonica. (It was a very new instrument at the time, having been invented like many things of the era by Ben Franklin.)
He’s one of the most famous composers in human history. If you were to ask random people on the street to name a composer of classical music, odds are good he is one of the half dozen names you are most likely to hear. So let’s crank the stereo. Rock me, Amadeus.