duke. George begged to go, as he wished to hear the organ in the
duke's chapel. But not until he ran after the coach did the father
consent.

They arrived at the palace as a chapel service was going on. The boy
stole away to the organ-loft, and, after service, began playing. The
duke, recognizing that it was not his organist's style, sent a
servant to learn who was playing. The man returned with the
trembling boy.

Dr. Handel was both amazed and enraged. But the duke, patting the
child on the head, drew out his story. "You are stifling a genius,"
he said to the angry father; "this boy must not be snubbed." The
doctor, more subservient to a prince than to nature, consented that
his son should study music.

[Illustration: SANS-SOUCI.]

During three years the boy studied with Zachau, the organist of the
Halle Cathedral. They were years of hard work. One day his teacher
said to George, "I can teach you no longer; you already know more
than I do. You must go and study in Berlin." Berlin was at once
attracted to the youthful musician by his playing on the harpsichord
and the organ. But the death of his father compelled him to earn his
daily bread. Willing to descend, that he might rise, he became a
violin player of minor parts at the Hamburg Opera House. The homage
he had received prompted his vanity to create a surprise. He played
badly, and acted as a verdant youth. The members of the orchestra
sneeringly informed him that he would never earn his salt. Handel,
however, waited his opportunity. One day the harpsichordist, the
principal person in the orchestra, was absent. The band, thinking it
would be a good joke, persuaded Handel to take his place. Laying
aside his violin, he seated himself at the harpsichord, amid the
smiles of the musicians. As he touched the keys the smiles gave
place to looks of wonder. He played on, and the whole orchestra
broke into loud applause. From that day until he left Hamburg, the
youth of nineteen led the band.

Handel's extraordinary skill as a performer was not wholly due to
genius. He practised incessantly, so that every key of his
harpsichord was hollowed like a spoon.

Handel's greatest triumphs, as a composer, were won in England. But
the music-loving Irish of Dublin had the honor of first welcoming
his masterpiece, the "Messiah." Such was the enthusiasm it created
that ladies left their hoops at h