Mozart: The Man and the Artist, as Revealed in His Own Words — Context and Discussion

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Authors: Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus, 1756-1791, Kerst, Friedrich, 1870-1961 [Compiler], Krehbiel, Henry Edward, 1854-1923 [Translator] Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2003 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus, 1756-1791 Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

Edition facts

Words 35,370

Reading time 154 min

Text sections 4

For Mozart: The Man and the Artist, as Revealed in His Own Words — Context and Discussion, the stored edition analysis reports 35,370 words, 2 hr 34 min estimated reading time, and 4 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 19.3 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus, 1756-1791,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Source: Project Gutenberg record #4042

Friedrich Kerst compiles Mozart's letters and remarks to reveal the composer's own views on music, patrons, and daily life. The excerpts show a sharp, often impatient voice—dismissive of noble meddling, blunt about salary, and fiercely protective of his artistic autonomy. Krehbiel's translation preserves the directness of Mozart's complaints, ambitions, and practical advice.

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Text length15 pts
Chapters / structure15 pts
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Mozart was a Child of the Sun. Filled with a humor truly divine, he strolled unconstrainedly through a multitude of cares like Prince Tamino through his fantastic trials. Music was his talisman, his magic flute with which he could exorcise all the petty terrors that beset him. Has such a man and artist--one who was completely resolved in his works, and therefore still stands bodily before us with all his glorious qualities after the lapse of a century--has Mozart still something to say to us who have just stepped timidly into a new century separated by another from that of the composer? Much; very much. Many prophets have arisen since Mozart's death; two of them have moved us profoundly with their evangel. One of them knew all the mysteries, and Nature took away his hearing lest he proclaim too much. We followed him into all the depths of the world of feeling. The other shook us awake and placed us in the hurly-burly of national life and striving; pointing to his own achievements, he said: "If you wish it, you have now a German art!" The one was Beethoven,--the other Wagner. Because their music demands of us that we share with it its experiences and struggles, they are the guiding spirits of a generation which has grown up in combat and is expecting an unknown world of combat beyond the morning mist of the new century.

But we are in the case of the man in the fairy tale who could not forget the merry tune of the forest bird which he had heard as a boy. We gladly permit ourselves to be led, occasionally, out of the rude realities that surround us, into a beautiful world that knows no care but lies forever bathed in the sunshine of cloudless happiness,--a world in which every loveliness of which fancy has dreamed has taken life and form. It is because of this that we make pilgrimages to the masterpieces of the plastic arts, that we give heed to the speech of Schiller, listen to the music of Mozart. When wearied by the stress of life we gladly hie to Mozart that he may tell us stories of that land of beauty, and convince us that there are other and better occupations than the worries and combats of the fleeting hour. This is what Mozart has to tell us today. In spite of Wagner he has an individual mission to fulfill which will keep him immortal. "That of which Lessing convinces us only with expenditure of many words sounds clear and irresistible in 'The Magic Flute':--the longing for light and day. Therefore there is something like the glory of daybreak in the tones of Mozart's opera; it is wafted towards us like the morning breeze which dispels the shadows and invokes the sun."

Mozart remains ever young; one reason is because death laid hold of him in the middle of his career. While all the world was still gazing expectantly upon him, he vanished from the earth and left no hope deceived. His was the enviable fate of a Raphael, Schiller and Korner. As the German ('tis Schumann's utterance) thinks of Beethoven when he speaks the word symphony, so the name of Mozart in his mind is associated with the conception of things youthful, bright and sunny. Schumann was fully conscious of a purpose when he called out, "Do not put Beethoven in the hands of young people too early; refresh and strengthen them with the fresh and lusty Mozart." Another time he writes: "Does it not seem as if Mozart's works become fresher and fresher the oftener we hear them?"

The more we realize that Wagner places a heavy and intoxicating draught before us the more we shall appreciate the precious mountain spring which laves us in Mozart's music, and the less willing we shall be to permit any opportunity to pass unimproved which offers us the crystal cup. In the mind of Goethe genius was summed up in the name of Mozart. In a prophetic ecstasy he spoke the significant words: "What else is genius than that productive power through which deeds arise, worthy of standing in the presence of God and Nature, and which, for this reason, bear results and are lasting? All the creations of Mozart are of this class; within them there is a generative force which is transplanted from generation to generation, and is not likely soon to be exhausted or devoured."

CHIPS FROM THE WORKSHOP

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Mozart's letters, as compiled by Friedrich Kerst, give a voice that is far from the serene genius of popular imagination. In these pages, the composer writes with impatience about courtly servitude, dismisses a patron's guardianship with the remark that “Grimm is able to assist children, but not adults,” and insists that a conductor “can well be a cavalier” while a cavalier cannot conduct. The diction is blunt, the tone often exasperated. Krehbiel's translation preserves the raw edge of Mozart's complaints, letting readers hear a man who demanded respect for his craft and refused to be placed “among the violins where I used to be.”

A Voice of Impatience and Self-Respect

Mozart's letters repeatedly show a man unwilling to tolerate condescension. In a 1778 letter from Paris, he writes that if the Archbishop wants him back in Salzburg, “they must satisfy my desires or they will certainly not get me.” The phrasing is conditional, almost defiant. He describes the court table where he sits “above the cooks” but still finds the company coarse, noting that he speaks “not a word unless of necessity and then always with the utmost seriousness.” The excerpts reveal a consistent pattern: Mozart measures every situation by how it treats his dignity. He calls the prospect of returning to Salzburg “the greatest folly in the world” except for filial duty. This is not a man who suffered fools gladly.

The Business of Music: Salary, Control, and Conditions

Mozart's practical concerns dominate many letters. He demands “good in character and good in recompense” for employment, and insists that a prince must give him “complete control of everything relating to music” or else “all will be in vain.” He is explicit about wanting a written assurance of the conductorship, showing a lawyer-like attention to terms. The excerpts also reveal his awareness of social hierarchy: he notes that at the Archbishop's table the two valets sit at the head, while he, a musician, is placed above the cooks. His complaints about salary and conditions are not vague grievances but specific, negotiable demands. He knows his worth and says so plainly.

Relations with Patrons: Grimm, the Archbishop, and Others

Mozart's dealings with patrons are marked by a sharp critical eye. Of Baron Grimm, who had been asked to supervise him in Paris, Mozart writes that he “is able to assist children, but not adults,” and warns his father not to be “too humble in your thanks.” The Archbishop of Salzburg is described as treating his musicians shabbily during a Vienna visit; Mozart later reports being dismissed “literally with a kick.” The language is vivid and unguarded. He tells his father that if the Archbishop “attempt to put on grand airs with me as he used to,” he might well “put my fingers to my nose.” These are not diplomatic letters; they are private outbursts preserved by a father who saved them.

Structure and Selection: How Kerst Shapes the Portrait

Friedrich Kerst organizes the material into thematic chapters such as “Chips from the Workshop,” “Concerning the Opera,” and “Self-Respect and Honor.” This arrangement foregrounds Mozart's own words on specific topics, but it also means the reader encounters the letters out of chronological sequence. The effect is to emphasize recurring attitudes—impatience, pride, practicality—rather than a biographical narrative. Krehbiel's editorial additions, including a biographical sketch and footnotes, provide context but do not soften Mozart's voice. The result is a mosaic of fragments that feels more like a conversation with the composer than a biography. Readers should note that the excerpts are selected and may not represent the full range of Mozart's correspondence.

This collection does not attempt to summarize Mozart's life or music. Instead, it offers a direct encounter with his written voice—irritable, shrewd, and often funny. Readers interested in the man behind the symphonies will find him here, complaining about seating arrangements and demanding fair pay. The book is best read as a companion to the music, not a substitute for it. Approach it as you would a stack of letters from a brilliant, difficult friend.

Reading Mozart’s blunt letters about patrons reminded me of how I once sat with Mozart: The Man and the Artist and felt his impatience leap off the page. Later, I found the same weary exasperation in the anonymous naval surgeon’s account of mismanaged fleets in A Journal of the Expedition to Carthagena, with Notes In Answer to a Late Pamphlet Entitled, An account of the Expedition to Carthagena — Reading Notes. Both men, worlds apart, just wanted someone to listen.