“By-the-bye, France is easily first in the manufacture of musical instruments. Erard, Sax and Vuillaume lead; all the others are of the reed-pipe and tin-kettle tribe.”
To Lwoff.
“January 1852.—It is impossible to do anything in Paris, so next month I shall go back to England, where, at least, the wish to love music is real and persistent. If I can be of the least use to you in my newspaper articles, commend me, dear master. It will be a pleasure to tell our few earnest French readers of the great and good things that are done in Russia. It is a debt I shall gladly pay, since I never shall forget the warmth of my reception and the kindness of your Empress and your great Emperor’s family.
“What a pity he himself does not like music!”
To J. d’Ortigue.
“London, March 1852.—Just a line to tell you of my colossal success. Recalled I know not how often, and applauded both as composer and conductor. This morning, in the Times, the Morning Post, the Advertiser, and others, such effusions as never were written before about me! Beale is wild with joy, for it really is an event in the musical world. The orchestra at times surpassed all that I have heard in verve, delicacy and power.
“All the papers except the Daily News puff me, and now I am preparing Beethoven’s Choral Symphony, which, so far, has been sadly mutilated here.
“But can you believe that all the critics are against the Vestal, of which we performed the first part yesterday?
“I am utterly cast down at this lapsus judicii—am I not weak?—and am ashamed of having succeeded at such a cost. Why can I not remember that the good, the beautiful, the true, the false, the ugly, are not the same to everyone?”
“May 1852.—You speak of the expenses of our concerts; they are enormous. Every impresario in London expected to lose this year. In fact Beale, in the programme of the last concert, actually told the public that the Choral Symphony rehearsals had swallowed more than a third of the subscription.