Cardinal Mazarin was fond of musical plays, and in 1644 he caused to be brought from Italy dramatic singers who, in the hall of the Petit-Bourbon and in presence of the king, Louis XIV., gave a representation of the “Festa della finta pazza,” a melodrama in five acts interspersed with comic interludes. Two years later, the Abbé Mailly organized a representation of a lyric tragedy entitled “Akebar, Roi du Mogol,” which was given in one of the halls of the episcopal palace of Carpentras.
The taste for music was gradually extending in the ranks of cultivated French society, and Mlle. de Montpensier had asked the Chevalier de Guise to bring for her from Italy—the cradle of opera—“a young musician to enliven my house.”
“Will you come with me to Paris?” asked the Chevalier, addressing the little singer and guitarist: to which the lad, without a moment’s hesitation, and as if impelled by his destiny, joyfully answered, “Yes.” Thereupon the twain set out for the French capital, and the Chevalier gave his Italian musician to “Mademoiselle.”
The grand-daughter of Henri IV. received Baptiste as she would have received a pug dog,—an animal then very fashionable. For a few days she amused herself with her little musician, then wearily cast him aside, finally relegating him to her kitchens, where he was enrolled among the scullions. It was thus that the nobility and clergy of that day were wont to treat musicians, great and small. It must not be forgotten that the Archbishop of Salzburg, who kept the divine Mozart in his service for a certain time, made him wear livery and sent him to take his meals in the kitchen with the servants.
While washing the dishes or stirring the kitchen fire, and possibly while tasting the sauces, unknown to the chef, the little Florentine lifted up his voice in song. In his spare time he played the guitar or practised the violin, upon which instrument he is said to have become an accomplished player.
Occasionally he was given verses, which he set to music with great facility. To Lully is attributed the air which became so popular and which is still sung, more particularly in the country districts, to the words “Au clair de la lune, mon ami Pierrot.”
One day were sent to him some couplets that were far from laudatory of the proud princess, his mistress. The verses greatly diverted Baptiste, who composed a pretty air to the words, and sang it to every one. This afforded much amusement in the kitchen of haughty “Mademoiselle,” who, hearing of the insult, caused her audacious and disrespectful scullion-composer to be expelled from her house.
In his secret heart, the great musician, that was to be, felt glad when thus disgraced. He was free; penniless, it is true, but courageous and full of hope in the future. He began to study harmony under Gigault, the organist of St. Nicolas-des-Champs, and ultimately succeeded in gaining admittance to the Grande Bande des Violons du Roi, which consisted of forty performers. Some few airs which he wrote for the violin were favorably received and rendered in the presence of the Le Grande Monarque himself. His Majesty was, indeed, so pleased with the young artist (Lully was then nineteen), that he appointed him Inspector of the violins. And this was not all, for the king organized for Lully’s satisfaction another band of musicians, called Les Petits Violons, in order to distinguish them from the “Grande Bande.”
From that moment a brilliant future awaited the composer. His agreeable manners, docile spirit, and a certain wild audacity, that did not diminish his profound deference for his benefactor, the king, won and retained the royal favor; genius did the rest.
The little band of violinists, thanks to their skilful training under the direction of Lully, achieved wonders, far outstripping the original band in regard to both time and accuracy of execution.