His counsel wise I will obey,
Hold to the right, take virtue’s way;
Yes, father, I am thine my whole life long,
My heart is yours;’ so ends my song.”
A loud “brava” followed the little poem, which had truly come from his heart, and all complimented Wolfgang because he had acquitted himself so well. Tears stood in his mother’s eyes, and even the men displayed emotion, as if they realized that an unusual inspiration was already manifesting itself in the little one. Wolfgang, however, was somewhat disconcerted by the serious mood of the company. Jumping down from his stool, he loudly shouted, “Let us go to the table, for I am hungry, and mamma has promised me a glass of wine and a big piece of cake.”
All laughed and followed the little fellow into an adjoining room, where the table was spread, handsomely decorated with flowers and growing plants. They seated themselves, and more than an hour passed in lively conversation and general intercourse. They were tried and true friends. What they said came truthfully and sincerely from the heart. The afternoon called the father to his duties, for he would not neglect them, even on his birthday, and his guests left at the same time. Toward evening, however, he returned, contented and pleased after a day’s duties well performed. “I have been very happy to-day, mother,” he said to his wife, as he affectionately embraced her. “I am going to begin to-day what I have contemplated for some time, namely, giving piano lessons to our Nannerl. Come here, child. You shall have one at once.”
“And give me one too, papa,” said Wolfgang, eagerly. “You will find I can do just as well as Nannerl.”
“Why, you silly boy, you can hardly stretch four keys with your little fingers,” said his father, laughing. “Play and laugh with your comrades all you will, and never mind the piano.”
Thus severely admonished, Wolfgang retired to a corner of the room with a sorrowful face. Nannie seated herself at the piano, and Father Mozart began the lesson. It had not continued long before Wolfgang became restless. He stole nearer and nearer, on tiptoe, until he was behind his father’s chair, where he listened intently to his words and instructions. There he remained until the lesson was over. Nannie left for the kitchen, to help her mother to get supper. Father Mozart began reading a book in his armchair. Wolfgang stood at the piano, thoughtfully looking at the keys. After a little, and apparently unconscious of what he was doing, he placed his hands on the keyboard and began striking thirds as he had just seen his sister do. At the sound of the instrument his countenance lit up, his eyes glowed, and utterly absorbed by the passion of music he forgot all else.
Father Mozart at first paid no notice to his son’s playing. Gradually, however, as the tones grew fuller and stronger, he became attentive, laid aside the book he had been reading, and watched little Wolfgang with constantly increasing astonishment. He listened eagerly, and was more and more delighted when he found that Wolfgang repeated accurately and without a slip the little exercise which he had played over shortly before to Nannie. Tears of joy stood in his eyes. He arose, and going to Wolfgang, folded him in his arms and, overcome by his emotions, exclaimed: “Wolfgang, my heart’s own little one, surely, and beyond all question, you are already a true musician.” Then he called the mother and sister and told them the good news, and Wolfgang had to repeat the little pieces, which he did excellently. All were delighted. His mother embraced and kissed him, his sister joyfully clapped her hands, and his father looked on with beaming face. Little Wolfgang alone remained calm, and wondered that his playing caused such a commotion. “Why, that is nothing,” he said. “I have known all that from the first; but you will see, papa, that I shall soon know far more than this.”