An Irishwoman's Diary

MORE THAN 220 years have passed since his tragic early death at the age of 35 in 1791 and the question of who or what killed Mozart continues to excite speculation, ranging from medical hypotheses to complex conspiracy theories.

It appears highly unlikely that he was murdered by a jealous rival composer, Antonio Salieri, although Salieri, an artist in his own right, felt that Mozart the man was not worthy of the genius of Mozart the composer. Others suspected that the Masons, angered by Mozart's use of some Masonic rites and symbolism in The Magic Flute,arranged his murder. It all sounds quite plausible, yet Mozart, born 256 years ago on January 27th, may well have died of complications associated with a severe throat infection compounded by fever and kidney failure.

The mysterious circumstances, added to the modest funeral and lack of honour, all highlight the squalid realism of his life when contrasted with the glories of the music. If classical music has a Holy Trinity, and it does, that trio must consist of Bach, Beethoven and Mozart.

There is no body, no death-mask, no grave, but his remarkable legacy of more than 600 works will endure as long as humans remain aware of music. He was a free spirit, sufficiently daring and gifted to be one of the first composers to attempt to break free of the traditional patronage as feudal values yielded to the Age of the Enlightenment, and instead compose as he pleased. The economic pressure he placed himself under and the resulting stress may well have contributed to his physical decline. Mozart worked hard and composed music in every form and style, ranging from operas to symphonies and chamber music.

He also contributed extensively to the repertoire of the violin and piano and wrote songs and church music. It all began early and continued at a furious pace until he died leaving an unfinished commission that is among the most profound works in musical history, a Requiem Mass in D minor about which there has been as much mystery as there lingers about the man himself.

It was 1791. Mozart had only months to live, although he did not know that, having enjoyed the spring months and having recovered from a minor illness, had written a great deal of small pieces, including tunes for mechanical organs and glass harmonicas which were both very popular fashionable toys in the Vienna of the day. He was making money from these commercial projects and he also wrote what was to be his final piano concerto. By early summer he was happy, his wife had also given birth to what would be her last baby, a boy. He was named Franz Xaver and he would become a good pianist, if a mediocre composer. About this time, Mozart's friend, the small-time impresario Emanuel Schikaneder, who did a bit of acting and singing, and was also a Mason, suggested that Mozart write an opera for the theatre which Schikaneder managed in the suburbs of Vienna. Mozart accepted and began work on Die Zauberflöte – The Magic Flute.

It was performed in German with a large element of spoken dialogue and is closer to pantomime than traditional opera.

That said the role of the Queen of the Night is one of the most demanding in the operatic repertoire.

Papageno, the bird catcher, was performed by Schikaneder. Far from ridiculing freemasonry, Mozart, aware that the new emperor was opposed to it, was attempting to celebrate its virtues. His efforts failed.

Within three years the Masonic movement in Austria would be obliterated.

Mozart was not to know this. While he was busy working on The Magic Flute, he was offered two very different commissions: The first was for another opera, this time celebrating the coronation in Prague of the new emperor as King of Bohemia. While travelling to Prague he wrote most of La clemenza di Tito. Little more than a routine piece it suited the occasion and is not one of Mozart's finest works.

But the other commission began in mysterious circumstances and the myths remain. A stranger appeared at Mozart's apartment, the episode is one of the many dramatic set pieces in Milos Forman's flamboyant Amadeus(1984), a movie which set out to showcase the surreal beauty of Mozart's music. Anyhow, the stranger, had been entrusted by an unnamed person, to ask Mozart to write a requiem for which he would be well paid. Mozart accepted but was told nothing. The client was a Viennese nobleman and amateur composer, Count Walsegg-Stuppach who had previously commissioned piece from composers and then pretended that they were his own compositions. This time there was more than ego involved. The count wanted the requiem to honour his young wife who had died. Time passed and Mozart's health again began to fail. The longer he worked on the requiem the more convinced he became that he was writing his own. As winter dragged on he became depressed and increasingly paranoid about his enemies and feared that he was being poisoned. Desperate to complete it, Mozart was still working on it two days before he died.

No, it is not perfect, at least not by Mozart’s incredible standards and not as fine as his majestic Great Mass in C minor (1783) with its soaring glory. But Mozart’s Requiem, although the second half was completed by his student Franz Xaver Sussmayr, working from sketches left by Mozart and with whom he had had many discussions about it, is a powerful, profound achievement. Mozart completed the Introit and the Kyrie and established the brooding quality that dictates the sound throughout.

In many ways he was quite correct, his great Requiem, which will be performed on January 27th at the National Concert Hall by the RTÉ Philharmonic choir under Mark Hindley with the RTÉ National Symphony Orchestra conducted by Alan Buribayev, to mark Mozart’s birthday, is an eloquent, sombre requiem written in haste by a doomed genius. It laments all loss, including his own.