When the music paused, little Franz awoke as from a trance.

“Did you like that, Franzerl?” asked his father, looking down at him.  The child bent his curly head, hardly able to speak.

“And do you want to be a musician when you grow up?” Franzerl nodded, then, pointing to a picture of Beethoven hanging on the wall, exclaimed with beaming eyes:  “I want to be such a musician as he is!”

Adam Liszt had already begun to teach his baby son the elements of music, at the child’s earnest and oft-repeated request.  He had no real method, being self-taught himself, but in spite of this fact Franz made remarkable progress.  He could read the notes and find the keys with as much ease as though he had practised for years.  He had a wonderful ear, and his memory was astonishing.  The father hoped his boy would become a great musician, and carry out the dream which he had failed to realize in himself.

Little Franz was born in the eventful year of 1811,—­the “year of the comet.”  The night of October 21, the night of his birth, the tail of the meteor seemed to light up the roof of the Liszt home and was regarded as an omen of destiny.  His mother used to say he was always cheerful, loving, never naughty but most obedient.  The child seemed religious by nature, which feeling was fostered by his good mother.  He loved to go to church on Sundays and fast days.  The midnight mass on Christmas eve, when Adam Liszt, carrying a lantern, led the way to church along the country road, through the silent night, filled the child’s thoughts with mystic awe.

Those early impressions have doubtless influenced the creations of Liszt, especially that part of his “Christus” entitled “Christmas Oratorio.”

Before Franz was six, as we have seen, he had already begun his musical studies.  If not sitting at the piano, he would scribble notes—­for he had learned without instruction how to write them long before he knew the letters of the alphabet, or rudiments of writing.  His small hands were a source of trouble to him, and he resorted to all kinds of comical expedients, such as sometimes playing extra notes with the tip of his nose.  Indeed his ingenuity knew no bounds, when it came to mastering some musical difficulty.

Franz was an open minded, frank, truth-loving child, always ready to confess his faults, though he seemed to have but few.  Strangely enough, though born an Hungarian, he was never taught to speak his native tongue, which indeed was only used by the peasants.  German, the polite language of the country, was alone used in the Liszt home.

The pronounced musical talent of his boy was a source of pride to Adam Liszt, who spoke of it to all his friends, so that the little fellow began to be called “the artist.”  The result was that when a concert was to be given at the neighboring Oldenburg, Adam was requested to allow his wonder child to play.