One night, in the year 1713 I dreamed I had made a pact with the devil
for my soul. Everything went as I wished: my new servant anticipated my
every desire. Among other things, I gave him my violin to see if he
could play. How great was my astonishment on hearing a sonata so
wonderful and so beautiful, played with such great art and intelligence,
as I had never even conceived in my boldest flights of fantasy. I felt
enraptured, transported, enchanted: my breath failed me, and - I awoke. I
immediately grasped my violin in order to retain, in part at least, the
impression of my dream. In vain! The music which I at this time
composed is indeed the best that I ever wrote, and I still call it the
"Devil's Trill", but the difference between it and that which so moved
me is so great that I would have destroyed my instrument and have said
farewell to music forever if it had been possible for me to live without
the enjoyment it affords me.