“You think you’re worth the world?”
“As if you’re worth anything!”
Mozart sighed, putting his head in his hand. His concertmaster and first violist were arguing. Again. He gritted his teeth, trying not to explode. He was a bow’s flick from flipping his wig over their petty arguments!
“Maestro? Maestro Mozart!”
Wolfgang snapped from his daze. “Yes?” It was those two again.
“Which do you think is better? The violin, or the viola?” the concertmaster asked eagerly.
“Yes maestro, which?” The violist tried to bump the haughty violinist away, who shoved back.
He could've just told them off right then and there. But no. Mozart had an idea. He smiled calmly. “Gentlemen, how about I compose something to show you my answer? You'll be able to draw your conclusions then.”
“Brilliant idea, maestro!”
Mozart was up late that night, slaving over his “answer.” He played both the violin and the viola beautifully, he loved them equally. The violin could sing into the rafters, while the viola had such an emotional range that wouldn't hurt the ear. As he worked on his sinfonia concertante, he thought of an alternate title to the piece he would take to his grave: “Violinists are Great, but Violists are People Too.”