When it comes to Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, the myth of innate genius has been perpetuated for centuries. But if we strip away the romanticism and look at the facts, a different picture begins to emerge. Far from being a natural-born prodigy, Mozart’s musical abilities were meticulously shaped under the strict and controlling hand of his father, Leopold, and not by some divine inspiration or natural talent.

Mozart’s education was far from conventional. Unlike his father, who received a formal education at the hands of Jesuits, Amadé never attended school. He didn’t have systematic lessons in harmony, counterpoint, or fugue, nor did he benefit from the intellectual and musical training that other musicians of his time received in colleges or religious institutions. His schooling was entirely confined to his father’s relentless tutelage. Yet, for years, biographers have attempted to place Wolfgang under the tutelage of prestigious teachers like Padre Giovanni Battista Martini, despite the glaring lack of evidence.

Martini was a celebrated teacher, whose influence has been exaggerated in Mozart’s case. Theories linking Martini’s teaching to Mozart’s compositions have persisted for years. Musicologists have even gone so far as to analyse Wolfgang’s works before and after his visit to Bologna in 1770 to ‘prove’ the supposed influence of the famed didact. Yet, closer examination reveals these claims to be weak at best. It wasn’t Martini’s guidance that shaped Mozart’s sacred music, but rather the hand of his father.

Mozart’s masses, such as the K.115 and K.116, once hailed as evidence of his development under Martini, have since been attributed to Leopold, not Wolfgang. The more closely we examine the so-called “masterpieces” of Mozart, the more the cracks begin to show. The most embarrassing realisation, however, is that for all of Wolfgang’s supposed “originality,” his most lauded works in sacred music were little more than compositions reworked from his father’s drafts.

In fact, in 1953, Karl Pfannhauser discovered that the Kyrie K.221, Lacrimosa K.Anh.21, and another untitled fragment came from Johann Ernst Eberlin’s Requiem in C Major, a piece once very popular in Austria and certainly admired by the Mozarts. For many years, it was believed that Wolfgang had copied Eberlin’s Lacrimosa, omitting the nine-bar orchestral introduction. However, in 1961, Wolfgang Plath confirmed that all three pieces had actually been copied by Leopold, not Wolfgang. The 1964 Köchel catalogue still included these works under Mozart’s name, but classified them as music that Wolfgang had copied from other composers. Further evidence found after World War II confirmed beyond doubt that the Kyrie K.221 was indeed copied by Leopold.

In reality, the notion that Mozart’s church music owed anything significant to Martini is a fabrication. Wolfgang’s so-called maturation as a composer was more a product of Leopold’s craft than any external influence. This becomes particularly evident in the way Mozart mirrored the style of his father’s compositions and even used entire sections of his father’s work in his own pieces, like the K.115. The narrative that Mozart became “autonomous” through Martini’s teaching is, in fact, a convenient fantasy.