him was irresistible, and he began
to 'musicise' for himself (to quote Chrysander's expression) almost as
soon as he could walk, and before he could speak. This inspired all
the family and friends with wonder and admiration, in which his parents
at first shared; but, as time went on, the thing began to wear a
different aspect, and the father grew alarmed. The boy was a
curiosity, no doubt, and music as a pastime was all very well, but it
had never occurred to the worthy surgeon to look on it as a serious
profession for a child of his, least of all for this, his last, most
promising and favourite son. For the others he had been contented with
situations in his own station of life; for this one he nourished more
ambitious designs. He was to be a doctor of laws, a learned man, and
the child's intelligence and thirst for knowledge favoured the hope.

"The father set to work to stifle his son's musical proclivities in
every possible way, to separate him from musical society, to banish all
music from the house, to prevent him even from going to school, for
fear he should learn notes as well as letters there. He had set
himself a difficult task, for the boy's inclination was obstinate, and
among his doting admirers were some who conspired in his behalf so
successfully as to convey into the house, undiscovered, a little
clavichord, or dumb spinet. This instrument, much used at that time in
convent cells, is so tiny that a man can carry it under his arm, and as
the strings are muffled with strips of cloth, the tone is diminutive in
proportion. It was safely established in a garret under the roof, and
here, while the household slept, the boy taught himself to play. If
the master of the house ever suspected what was going on, he connived
at it, thinking that probably no very dangerous amount of art-poison
could be imbibed under such difficulties. It proved, however, but the
thin edge of the wedge, and resulted before long in a collision between
the wills of father and son, in which the former sustained his first
real defeat. He had occasion to visit Weissenfels, where a grandson of
his first marriage was chamberlain to the reigning duke. George, who
was seven or eight years old, and was very fond of this grown-up nephew
of his, begged to be taken, too; but his father refused, turned a deaf
ear to all his entreaties, and set off alone. Not to be baffled, the
pertinacious boy followed the carriage on foot, and after a
co