At last Herr Wagenseil came, and the Emperor, after introducing them, requested Wolfgang to play. He was all ready, kissed the Emperor’s hand, and hurried to the piano. “I am glad you are here,” he said to Herr Wagenseil. “I will play a concerto of yours, and would like to have you turn the leaves for me.”
Herr Wagenseil came forward with a smile, and after rapidly running over a few passages, Wolfgang played the concerto. His performance took every one by surprise. Whatever their expectations, Wolfgang was resolved to surpass them. He played with a fire and intelligence which astonished all. It grew more and more quiet. The Emperor, the Empress, the princes and princesses, and the rest of the company kept their eyes fixed upon the little virtuoso, and Herr Wagenseil’s manner betrayed his extreme surprise.
When the concerto was finished, and Wolfgang had played the last note, it was naturally supposed he would stop, but instead of doing so, he continued playing, taking a theme from the concerto and improvising upon it beautifully for nearly a quarter of an hour. He drew from the instrument expressions of sorrow and joy, pain and ecstasy, melancholy and divine happiness. A stream of richest melodies seemed to gush from under his hands as the clear, silvery brook leaps from the rocks. All listened as if entranced, until he closed with a brilliant cadenza, and then sprang from his seat with flashing eyes.
For some time deep silence followed his playing. Then the Empress expressed her great delight by applause. All present imitated her, and overwhelmed the little player with compliments. Even the quiet and sedate Herr Wagenseil frankly expressed his surprise. Wolfgang calmly accepted the ovation, keeping his delighted gaze upon the Empress, and said, “Now, your Majesty, have I not done my work well?”
“Yes,” said the exalted sovereign; “notwithstanding your youth, you are already a great musician, whom we must admire. We heartily wish that your skill may increase with your years, until at last you reach the very summit of your art.”
“With divine help, Lady Empress,” replied the happy Wolfgang, “which will not fail me, I shall strive to deserve your praise.”
Nannie also played, revealing surprising skill for one so young; but in reality she had neither the intellectual nor the artistic ability of her brother, and consequently had to be satisfied with less enthusiastic applause from the audience.
During a pause in the music, the Empress turned to Father Mozart and said: “I sincerely congratulate you that you have these children. They are a gift from Heaven, such as is rarely vouchsafed to man. Educate them well, so that their fine natural ability may be developed and produce the highest results.”
While the vice chapelmaster was assuring her Majesty upon this point, there was a sudden outburst of merry laughter near her. She turned with an expression of surprise and displeasure. Her rising anger, however, was dispelled when the Emperor came forward and said with a smile: “This Wolfgang is a witty genius. I asked him whom he considered the greatest musician in the past, and he replied, ‘The trumpeter who blew down the walls of Jericho.’”
The Empress could not help laughing at the droll answer. The Emperor continued: “I may not succeed, but I am going to try to catch him. Look here, Wolfgang, I acknowledge that you have played very beautifully, but you have done it with all ten fingers, and that is not much of a feat. Show us what you can do with one finger, or with the keyboard covered, then we can tell whether you really are a true musician.”