have regular lessons in harmony from Muller, the very musician
from whom I had had instruction on the sly some little while
before, and who had not yet been paid. In return for this I
promised faithfully to go back to work conscientiously at St.
Nicholas's School. I soon grew tired of both. I could brook no
control, and this unfortunately applied to my musical instruction
as well. The dry study of harmony disgusted me more and more,
though I continued to conceive fantasias, sonatas, and overtures,
and work them out by myself. On the other hand, I was spurred on
by ambition to show what I could do at school if I liked. When
the Upper School boys were set the task of writing a poem, I
composed a chorus in Greek, on the recent War of Liberation. I
can well imagine that this Greek poem had about as much
resemblance to a real Greek oration and poetry, as the sonatas
and overtures I used to compose at that time had to thoroughly
professional music. My attempt was scornfully rejected as a piece
of impudence. After that I have no further recollections of my
school. My continued attendance was a pure sacrifice on my side,
made out of consideration for my family: I did not pay the
slightest attention to what was taught in the lessons, but
secretly occupied myself all the while with reading any book that
happened to attract me.

As my musical instruction also did me no good, I continued in my
wilful process of self-education by copying out the scores of my
beloved masters, and in so doing acquired a neat handwriting,
which in later years has often been admired. I believe my copies
of the C minor Symphony and the Ninth Symphony by Beethoven are
still preserved as souvenirs.