In a rather amusing twist, the Musikwissenschaft has unearthed a portrait of the young Mozart from his first trip to Italy, only to attribute a composition to him based on nothing more than the appearance of a score in the painting. As if by mere proximity, the child at the harpsichord was anointed a composer! It begs the question: does standing next to a painting of a lion make one a wildlife expert?

The artist behind this questionable portrayal remains shrouded in mystery. Initially thought to be Saverio Dalla Rosa, some now suspect Giambettino Cignaroli may have been at the easel, perhaps in a fit of familial collaboration. Leopold Mozart’s letters provide tantalising yet scant details, revealing that the portrait was executed in just two sittings. One can’t help but wonder if it was more of a rush job than a masterpiece. Leopold mentions the commission but neglects to comment on the music—surely an oversight for such a “historic” moment.

Constanze Mozart, in a later letter, claims knowledge of two portraits of her husband but dances around the specifics like a skilled diplomat. When the painting reappeared in 1856, it was as if a ghost had emerged from the shadows, yet doubts about its connection to Mozart linger like an unwelcome dinner guest.

Perhaps the most outrageous aspect of this story is the complete absence of the original manuscript, signature, date, and any watermarks. It’s almost as if the piece of music existed solely as a clever ruse! The score displayed on the harpsichord doesn’t fit into any known repertoire of Mozart’s; rather, it seems to be an elaborate game of “Who’s That Composer?” with Mozart holding a losing hand.

The notion that this portrait serves as a “souvenir” is equally entertaining. In the 18th century, it was all the rage to immortalise oneself alongside notable props—like an instrument that screams, “Look at me, I’m a musician!” It seems likely that the choice of a score was more about enhancing the subject’s artistic pedigree than about accurately representing his works. Perhaps a piece by Baldassare Galuppi was standing in for Mozart, reminding us that context is everything—unless, of course, you’re trying to score a few points in the grand game of music history.

In summary, the absence of the original manuscript, signature, date, and watermarks raises serious questions about the authenticity of the music attributed to Mozart in this whimsical portrait. The conflation of a young genius’s image with an unverified composition serves as a stark reminder that, sometimes, our romantic notions of history can lead us down a rabbit hole of misattribution. If only it were as simple as being in the right place at the right time!