Mozart, the genius who received God's favor,
The most intimate confession of Mozart, the 'human' we never knew about

Mozart spent a third of his life on the road.
So, writing a letter to Mozart meant more than just a greeting.
The maestro, who created heavenly harmonies by drawing notes on a staff, poured out all the earthly words he had experienced, such as hardship, glory, love, betrayal, and sorrow, on a letter paper.
The childish vanity of a 13-year-old boy showing off his newly learned Latin skills, the misery of a young man struggling for a few pennies, the anger he pours out toward a world that doesn't recognize his worth, and even the tears he sheds upon losing his mother.
If Mozart's music contains the brilliant talent of a master, it is no exaggeration to say that Mozart's letters contain the soul of the human Mozart.

So why didn't Mozart stop writing?
The answer is contained in letters Mozart wrote to his friends, his sister, and above all, his father.
The letters in "Mozart's Confessions" reveal his true life, full of noise hidden behind the great melodies.

I live in a place where music is not very welcome.
Although some have left us, we still have great professionals, especially composers of depth, knowledge, and character.
The theater's situation is not good due to the absence of vocalists.
We don't have Mujiko, and it won't be easy to get.
They demand generous compensation, for generosity is not a courtly virtue.
--- p.39 From “Salzburg, September 4, 1776”

I met Chail Gong today, and he spoke to me with all the courtesy.
“I don’t think we’ll get much done here.
At the Nymphenburg Palace banquet, I asked the Elector privately, and he said, 'It's too early.
He must go to Italy and gain fame.
“I am not rejecting him, but it is not the time yet,” he said.
This is it! Most of these high-ranking officials have a convulsive passion for Italy.
--- p.54 From "Munich, September 29, 1777"

Dearest Father, I cannot weave my heart into poetry.
Because I'm not a poet.
You can't draw out emotions by throwing light and darkness.
Because I am not a painter.
You can't even convey your thoughts through gestures.
Because I'm not a dancer.
But in sound, it is possible.
Because I am a musician.
--- p.93 From “Mannheim, November 8, 1777”

If something unavoidable happens, just let it happen.
I just hope that my father won't be too happy or sad.
No matter what happens, as long as you are healthy, everything will be okay.
Happiness exists only in our imagination anyway.
--- pp.96-97 from "Mannheim, November 29, 1777"

For lowly people like us, we have the privilege of choosing a wife who loves us and whom we love.
We are not nobles, not from a prestigious family, not rich, we are just ordinary, poor people.
So we don't need a rich wife.
Because our wealth is in our heads, and no one can take it away from us.
To take it away, we would have to cut off our heads, and then we would have no need for anything else.
--- p.137 From “Mannheim, February 7, 1778”

I am furious that my father so harshly criticized my cheerful and pure relationship with his brother's daughter (my cousin) in his letter.
But that relationship is completely different from what you think, Father, so there's no need to answer further.
I don't know what to say about what happened at Wallerstein.
I was very serious when I was with Becky or in the officers' mess, and I hardly spoke to anyone.
But let's just let all this pass.
--- p.148 From “Mannheim, February 19, 1778”

Cry, you can't help but cry, so cry.
But finally, find solace.
We must remember that everything is ordained by Almighty God.
How could we dare to rebel against Him? Rather, let us offer our prayers, thanking Him for His goodness, for Our Mother has died peacefully.
--- p.191 From “Paris, July 9, 1778”

The biggest reason I hope this goes well is because I want to quickly enjoy the happiness of embracing my beloved father and sister again.
Oh! How joyful and happy we will all live together! I earnestly pray that God will bestow this grace upon me.
May a new chapter finally open, in God's will! I hold on with the fervent hope that the day when we can all be happy will come soon.
In the name of God, I will somehow endure this life here, which goes against my nature, my temperament, my knowledge, my emotions, everything.
--- p.213 From “Paris, July 18, 1778”

Father, think about it yourself.
Put yourself in my shoes.
In Salzburg I have no idea where I stand.
Some days I'm treated like I'm everything, and some days I'm treated like I'm nothing.
I am not asking for anything great or anything insignificant.
If I am worthy of something, I just want to be that 'something'!
--- p.246 From "Strasburg, October 15, 1778"

Dearest Father, I can confidently say that she is one of my truest friends.
I call a friend only someone who thinks about his friend's well-being day and night and uses all his connections to make sure he is happy.
This is what Madame Cannabis looks like.
Of course, there may be some self-interest involved here as well.
But what in this world is there that isn't at all a matter of self-interest? What I like most about her is that she never tries to hide it.
--- p.266 From “Kaisersheim, December 18, 1778”

Please don't write me any more depressing letters.
Right now, I need a cheerful mind, a clear mind, and motivation to work.
You can't have any of these if you're sad.
Believe me, I know deep down how much my father deserves rest and peace.
But am I an obstacle to that peace? I don't want to be, but I fear I am.

--- p.299 From "Munich, November 24, 1780"