The Archbishop had to have the services of a musician on certain state occasions, and never failed to call on Mozart when he needed him. Yet all that he paid Mozart was a nominal salary, which was actually less than six dollars a year. What was true of the Archbishop was now almost equally true of all the court at Salzburg. The nobles there had never undervalued his services until he wanted to be paid for them. Then he was told that his abilities had been greatly overrated, and was advised to go to Italy and study music seriously there.
At last their neglect forced him to start forth again upon his travels to see whether he could find a prince who would accept his services at something nearer their real value.
In vain the youth wandered from court to court; then for a time he returned to Salzburg, where the Archbishop treated him as a showman might a performing dog, using his great genius in tests of skill before royal visitors.
Later he went to the Emperor's court at Vienna, and there at last he began to receive something of his due. Not only other musicians, but the public generally admitted his great gifts. He wrote operas, "Don Giovanni," "The Magic Flute," and "The Marriage of Figaro," being the most popular of them. Finally he was able to do somewhat as he pleased, instead of writing only to suit the order of a prince or noble who could pay him with some position in his court or at his home.
The world acknowledged Mozart's genius from the time when, a small boy of six, he and his sister played the clavier. But the life of a musician in those days, no matter how great his genius, was a hard one, and the world was not very kind to the youth when he grew up and had to make his own way. Perhaps his happiest days were those when his sister and he traveled with their good father, and had nothing to think of but the pleasure they could give with their great gifts.
X
Lafayette
The Boy of Versailles: 1757-1834
Marie Antoinette, the little Queen of France, was giving a fête at the royal palace of Versailles, outside of Paris, and the beautiful gardens of the palace, world famous for their wonderful statues and fountains, flowers and groves, presented an amazing sight on that midsummer night. A hundred elves and fairies, hobgoblins and wood-nymphs danced in and out about groups of strangely dressed grown-up people, who were neither in court costume nor in real masquerade. The older lords and ladies of the court were trying to humor their young Queen's whim without parting with any of their dignity, and the result of their attempt was this very curious sight—tall, stiff goblins, wearing elaborate, powdered wigs and jeweled swords, stout wood-nymphs with bare arms and shoulders, and glittering with jewels.