peasant-songs blew and blossomed into gigantic art forms, useful to the
composers who came in a time when feudalism was as clean swept away as
the wigs and patches that were its insignia. To change this rather too
eloquent trope, Haydn, living a life of deadly routine and dulness, duly
subservient to his divinely appointed betters, took the songs of the
people (who paid to keep the whole apparatus in working order), and out
of them built up what is the basis of all the music written since. If
Providence in very deed ordained that millions of men and women should
toil that a few small electors, dukes and princes should lead lives of
unhappy artificial luxury, then Providence did well at the same time to
arrange for a few counts such as Morzin, and princes like those of
Esterhazy.

Haydn's chief in musical affairs was old Werner. His salary was at first
£40, and he was passing rich on it; and it was soon raised to £79. We
need trouble no further as to whether on such wages he was poor or rich:
he evidently considered himself well-to-do. In fact, even in those
days, when copyright practically did not exist, he continually made
respectable sums by his compositions, and after he had been twice to
England, ever the Hesperides' Garden of the German musician, he was a
wealthy man, and was thankful for it. He was as keen at driving a
bargain as Handel, or as the mighty Beethoven himself, and we, too,
ought to be glad that he had a talent for getting money and keeping it.

The date of his appointment was May 1, 1761; but he had been at work
less than a year when Prince Anton died, March 18, 1762. Anton was
succeeded by his brother Nicolaus, surnamed or nicknamed the
Magnificent, and in truth a most lordly creature. Almost immediately
changes began. Eisenstadt did not content Nicolaus; Versailles was the
admiration of all Europe, and he determined to rival Versailles. The