One morning in 1819 [...] a man brought a small boy about eight years of age to me and asked me to let the little fellow play for me. He was a pale, delicate-looking child and while playing swayed on the chair as if drunk so that I often thought he would fall on the floor. Moreover, his playing was completely irregular, careless, and confused, and he had so little knowledge of correct fingering that he threw his fingers over the keyboard in an altogether arbitrary fashion.Nevertheless I was amazed by the talent with which Nature had equipped him. I gave him a few things to sight-read, which he did, purely by instinct, but for that very reason in a manner that revealed that Nature herself had here created a pianist. He made the same impression when I acceded to his father's wish and gave him a theme on which to improvise. Without the least bit of acquired knowledge of harmony he yet managed to convey a feeling of inspiration in his performance. The father told me that his name was Liszt.