The following incident would probably not have occurred had not music already broken away from royal patronage and become, as we might say, self-supporting.
Rossini was once the principal musical figure at a party given by King George IV, at St. James Palace, London. During the evening the king paid particular attention to the Italian composer, and was much pleased with his compositions. As the company was about to break up His Majesty said: "Now, Rossini, before, we stop, let us have one piece more, and that shall be the finale."
But Rossini, insensible to the honors that had been bestowed upon him, arrogantly replied, "I think, Sire, we have had enough music for one night," and took his departure.
294.—TO A PAUPER'S GRAVE.
Poor Mozart! In life pushed from pillar to post; in sickness working to the last moment to bring bread to his family; in death occupying an unknown grave!
After Mozart's death, that night of December 4, 1791, the little house on Roughstone Lane, in Vienna, was almost deserted. Only two or three callers came. The men who made money by the dead master's genius stayed away. The widow was left almost destitute, as Mozart's fortune amounted to five pounds in money and his effects were valued at about twenty-six pounds more. A heavy draft on this was made by the undertaker's and doctor's bills, which amounted to perhaps twenty pounds.
The cold rain and sleet pounded down, that gloomy day when the little group left the house. After the services at the church the mourners dropped off, and when the hearse reached the cemetery no one followed the remains of the composer of "Don Juan" and the "Jupiter" symphony.
Two paupers had been buried that day; and, as it was
