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While there have been numerous remarkable fantasies written about ways of bringing off my usually-unpleasant demise (I suspect written mostly by the minions of Sphinxoids), it is true that artists over the years have come up with some particularly wonky-looking illustrations of my deathbed -- at least as they supposed it to have been. The following are but a few of them.

Some may say this is a subject best saved for Halloween, but I say bring them out now so that we may marvel -- and perhaps have a laugh or two at an otherwise sad subject.

I suppose the dark crudeness of this picture was intentional. Like all of the pictures from this genre, I am invariably shown propped high on pillows, and I would be at least seven feet tall if I were to suddenly stand up. Solemn musicians are in attendance, as in most of these pictures, though exactly who they are is the stuff of myth and legend. Süssmayr is there, presumably at the keyboard. You will also note that Stanzi and Karl are virtually shoved into the background as if they count for nothing.

You will notice that the details of this famous picture are quite fascinating in themselves. I am depicted looking as healthy a a horse, except for the distant expression in my eyes--but that could just as easily be musical distraction. This time, Süssmayr is intensely taking dictation of the Requiem while Stanzi once again in the background) is praying in the bedroom. The look on his face makes me wonder if he was thinking what a man with such short arms would be doing with such long legs.

I am not sure who the shadowy gentleman is coming through the door, but he might be Dr.Closset, the Masked Messenger, Van Sweitan, Schikaneder, or even Salieri. On top of a cabinet stands a bust of what looks like Bach, but also a mysterious painting that might be Papa Leopold.

Shades of "Amadeus" !

Another typically 19th Century depiction, this time more to the popular taste of the day. I rather like the way that the later into the Victorian era the pictures are drawn, the more maudlin and corny they become -- which makes them all the more fun.

We are shown here rehearsing the Requiem with a string quartet and no vocalists at all, while I conduct with a baton -- which didn't even exist in 1791. Constanze is in rapt attendance, but she looks almost masculine, and she seems to dominate the picture. The woman at the piano is most liely Sophie, but where is Süssmayr? Wasn't he the pianist that evening?

The look of Victorian piety and Pre-Raphaelite deathbed ecstacy on my face is so...well, I won't say it. I wish I had a better image, and someday perhaps I will -- but the eyes rolling Heavenward are a sight to behold.

This little picture was drawn sometime in the 1960's, and differs from most of the others in that the only musician around is Süssmayr, Sophie is depicted at the foot of my bed, and instead of thinking about the Requiem, I am looking at my watch and trying to picture the scenes from "The Magic Flute", no doubt humming the music. Karl and Stanzi are there of course -- but have you noticed that not one of these pictures shows my dog?

Probably the most intimate, and therefore one of the most striking, is a little moment between myself and Stanzi holding hands while I write the Requiem -- which of course would have been impossible for me since I had badly swollen hands. What is odd is that neither of this pair seems to show emotion of any kind, other than a studious concentration on my face.

You will note that I am impossibly golden-blond, and seem to have a halo. Stanzi's hair and dress would place her squarely in the middle of the 19th Century rather than 1791. The Victorian Romantics were attempting to define me for their own age, and this was part of the process.

Part of Victorian Romanticism was a virtual worship of Death that is hard to comprehend in the year 2002 as it was in 1791. This bleak, stark picture is even more intimate than the previous one because it shows the Angel of Death coming to claim his latest acquisition. Drawn by a man named Simeon Solomon, I believe it was a sketch for what was meant to become a painting.

The picture is filled with symbolism, and it is utterly cheerless.

Brrrrr! Let's get back to the more amusing illustrations.

The gang is all here. Stanzi and Sophie are at my pillow, though it isn't easy to tell which of them is which. Süssmayr, as always, is at the right, taking dictation. The barbershop quartet at my feet are a sober-looking lot as one might expect -- but what is this huge, dark velvet curtain behind my bed? Either everyone is in the funeral parlor, or a Victorian photographer is standing in front of the group, telling everyone NOT to smile or say "cheese'.

This is an irresistable picture, supplied by S.K. Waller. Süssmayr is probably the pianist and the blond (!?!) is probably Stanzi, but what a collection of musicians! A cellist, two viloinists, three vocalists, and even a humble page-turner.

The most curious person on this page is me, Mozart, myself. Why, this looks nothing like me! In fact, I don't believe this fellow is Mozart at all! He is actually Larry "the Stooge" Fine, and therefore I suspect then that the three knuckleheads behind him are Curly, Shemp and Moe in period dress.

This curious picture was found in a German magazine by my friend Suzi Scholze, and is obviously based on descriptions of someone who knew quite well that I did not die in 1791. However, the artist's speculation is that I lived on in glorious obscurity--fat, old, slovenly, and with a cigarette haning from my lower lip. And such company they imagined me keeping! I haven't seen such a scruffy lot since I ate with the servants in the Archbishop's ktchen! I believe the honky-tonk number I'm playing is called "The Ass-Gimlet Polka".

This is hopefully the last creepy picture you will see. These effigies are in St.Michael's Church in Vienna, which was the church Mozart officially belonged to. No, this is not a real deathmask nor is it the real skull. They are simply a "memorial" that someone scultpted in the 19th century, at a time when the Victorian death cults swayed the way in which people showed their respects for the dead. I am certainly glad people no longer do this !

This is a remarkable postcard supplied by another friend, Wim Vingerhoed, which depicts the usual overly-tall Mozart (fully dressed?) The usual cast of characters is there, for once including both of my children. What makes this one stand out from the others is that it is advertising a "meat extract" ! Now, what do you make of THAT?