Shortly before the composer Antonio Salieri died, a rumour swept Vienna. He had confessed to poisoning Mozart!
Despite his carers denying that he said any such thing, the rumour took hold. Five years later Alexander Pushkin used it as the basis for a story, and Peter Shaffer, in 1979, adapted Pushkin’s piece into Amadeus.
Shaffer’s play (later to be a film) shows Mozart as a divinely gifted and obnoxious genius and Salieri as a relative mediocrity, who nonetheless believes his progress is blessed by God. Then Salieri hears Mozart’s work and realizes that the genius has gone to Mozart and not to him. The resulting jealousy drives the subsequent plot.
Amadeus is a great play, but it has little basis in fact. Salieri was a hardworking and ambitious composer, who rose to the top of his own profession through his own efforts.
He collaborated with Mozart on at least one composition, conducted some of Mozart’s works and gave lessons to Mozart’s son. He and Mozart were not terribly close, but there is nothing in what is known of Salieri to suggest he would have acted in malice.
Having come from humble origins, he was known for his generosity, particularly in teaching many gifted up-and-comers for free. This included three of the greatest names in classical music, Beethoven, Liszt and Schubert.
Until I started writing this, I knew only the Amadeus version of events. It was a bonus to discover that the real Salieri was nicer and a gifted educator. But I was already going to use the play’s plot to suggest that, poison aside, I would much rather have had Salieri as a teacher than Mozart.
This may seem odd. Surely, I hear you thinking, you would want to learn from the absolute best. Well, yes, I would. I would want to learn from the best teacher, not necessarily the best practitioner.
I would much rather have had Salieri as a teacher than Mozart, because teaching isn’t just about being the best practitioner.
There is an old saying that those who can do, while those that can’t, teach. Through a 30+ year teaching career I have had plenty of time to reflect on that particular nugget. There is some truth to it, at least in part.
During my time teaching, I have both taught and encountered people with the combination of natural talent and all-consuming drive that leads to success.
These people have freakish natural abilities and instinctively make good decisions. They are able to make what they do seem inevitable. Often, they have very little idea of how they arrived at their results – these just come naturally.
Hence, while they will likely lead their field, they tend to find it difficult to teach their subject and they often have little patience for people who struggle. Because what they do comes so naturally, they can only imagine that their own process is the one true path – and so they teach it accordingly.
This can be inspirational for students in the short term, since they get a kick from rubbing shoulders with greatness, but the result in the longer term is students who struggle to find their own voice.
Instead, I think it helps, as a teacher, to have struggled a bit in your own journey. If things don’t come completely naturally, you have to figure them out. Try out different strategies. Learn from your mistakes.
All of this means that you have a sense that there are different potential ways of resolving any given situation – which makes it more possible for you to help students navigate their own path, rather than simply following yours.
It also makes you more sympathetic to their problems, and less likely to be dogmatic about your approach. In short, you can empathize with the students and help them navigate the roadblocks and speed bumps in their own journeys. To me, this is a substantial part of what makes a good teacher.
A teacher who’s struggled knows how to guide others through their own roadblocks.
But half of the old saying is quite wrong. If you can’t do something, you can’t teach it. To teach, you still have to know enough about your subject to inspire confidence. But you also need the humility to avoid coercing the students into compliance.
Mozart, with his insecurities and ego would have been a rotten teacher. Salieri – less great than competent – nevertheless had the ability to inspire his students and help them find their own musical voice.
Even if his own work is now seen as minor, you would be hard pressed to find a teacher that had a bigger influence on subsequent musical history. Beethoven, Liszt and Schubert are no small legacy.
So yes, if I could time travel, I’d be paying a visit to Vienna, and to Antoni Salieri. He might just be able to wring something out of my embryonic musical ability.

Each vignette invites readers to embrace the beauty of unfinished thinking and the art of holding life’s ongoing questions.