“Explain the pedals to me, papa,” said he. “I should like to see if I can play the organ.”
His father complied, and Wolfgang listened attentively until he understood the mechanism of the instrument, then he requested a servitor of the church to blow for him, pushed the organ bench to one side, and, standing by the pedals, trod them and struck the keys as correctly as if he had practised for months. The music, continually growing more powerful and majestic, rolled in grand and solemn volume through the great hall of the church, and melody followed melody in the consecrated solitude. The monks in the refectory near by laid down knife and fork and, marvelling greatly, entered the church. The brother organist was among them, and gazed at his organ as if terror-stricken. It had never been played like this before. Who could it be letting loose such a flood of music from those rigid pipes? The monks looked at each other with blanched faces. The organ seemed to be playing itself, for the little performer could not be seen from below. Some of the brothers crossed themselves in fear. Some whispered, “Satan himself is playing,” while others said, “This is a miracle. It has never happened before.” At last some of them mustered up courage, and with the prior at their head, went up into the organ-loft, where they stood transfixed with astonishment at sight of the child, who was still playing as if inspired, and did not observe them until his father aroused him from his spell. Then all gathered about him, praising and admiring him. The brother organist, pale with excitement, laid his trembling hand upon the boy’s head and blessed him, saying, “Thou wilt yet accomplish great things for the honor of God, and may God be with thee in all thy ways as thy strong protector.”
Little Wolfgang looked about him in surprise, and pleasantly smiled as if he had done nothing to occasion such a demonstration. His power was indeed great, but he was not in the least aware that he possessed it.
The influence of this power was again manifested before the family reached Vienna,—this time in an accidental and somewhat amusing manner. Before the passengers were allowed to go into the city their baggage was searched by a custom-house official for articles liable to duty. This occasioned considerable delay as well as vexation. Little Wolfgang was impatient over it, and in his saucy, impetuous manner accosted one of the higher officials, and boldly addressed him. “Dear Sir,” said he, “why do you open the trunks and bags of these people and search them? Don’t you know you are hindering them from going on their way?”
“Why, youngster, that is our duty,” replied the official, laughing. “But what are you in search of in our beautiful Kaiser city?”
“I? I have come here to play the piano,” said Wolfgang, with an air of importance.
“You! You little snip! You play the piano!” said the official. “Much you can do with those little claws! Go ahead, but look out that they don’t laugh at you.”
“We will see whether any one dares to laugh at me,” said Wolfgang, angrily. “See, there is our piano which we brought with us from Salzburg, packed in that big box. If it were only open I would soon show you whether I can play the piano or not.”
The official was curious to hear him, for the little fellow spoke so confidently that he could hardly doubt him.
“Well, we will let you try,” said he, as he ordered a workman to unpack the box. Wolfgang opened the piano, seated himself at it, and played some lively dances with his usual skill. The official opened his eyes in astonishment, and vigorously applauded him. All those in the custom house—officials, passengers, and servants—crowded around Wolfgang, and listened with delight to the melodies which he elicited from the keys with his “little claws.” Then with a smile he stopped and turned to the official. “Now do I know anything about piano playing?” said he, roguishly. “You can laugh at me, sir, if you like.”