* * * * *
“Bennett’s F minor Concerto is an excellent piece of work, and was
received very warmly at the Philharmonic; that he has taken you for his
model is, however, evident throughout. I have also made acquaintance
with Henselt’s Studies, and find them very interesting and useful,
although in style and form not varied enough. Anyhow, I prefer even the
romantic sighs of love-warbling composers to the aggressive audacity of
those torturers of harmony who would take the universe by storm.
Chopin’s Studies have much charm for me, although there is a good deal
in them that appears unscholarlike to me. I like the new set better than
the former ones; so far I have never had an opportunity of hearing him
play.”
* * * * *
LEIPZIG, Oct. 28, 1838.
MY DEAR FRIEND,--Bennett brought me your very kind letter last week. A
thousand thanks for it; a thousand thanks, too, for always being so true
a friend, and occasionally telling me so. A letter from you fortifies me
for weeks; and what you write about yourself and others is so much to
the point, so absolutely yourself, that I can almost hear you talking,
and myself saying how right you are, and how much I like listening to
you. Were I but a little milder, and a little more impartial, and a
little cleverer, and a little more of a good many other things, I might
also have as clear a judgment as you; but I am so easily put out, and I
get so impatient, where you appreciate what is good for its own sake,
and look on what is bad as capable of improvement.
I am so glad to hear you are at work, and of all things composing a
Concerto. What key is it in? What form? How difficult? When shall we get
it? Tell me all about it. Have you composed anything lately; and if so,
what? As for me, those troublesome measles have quite thrown me back, as
you thought they would. Even now, my eyes are not quite the thing, and I
am still so sensitive that the least exertion knocks me up. With all
that, my room-door is always on the move, like a toll-bar or a baker’s
door; and three weeks’ enforced captivity and idleness have put
everything into such confusion that I do not see my way out of all the
work that has accumulated. I had intended publishing several things at
this time, instead of which here I am correcting parts, marking tempos,
and attending to the long list of _odiosa_ that are always sure to take
a dire revenge on the man who dares neglect them. I have written three
new violin Quartets that I wish I could show you, because I am pleased
with them myself, and should so like to have your opinion. A new
Symphony, too, I hope to finish soon. My Serenade, and the other
pianoforte piece in B minor,[36] you will perhaps come across; if so,
you must be indulgent, and look at them through those friendly
spectacles of yours.
And now I have an urgent request in reference to my piano. You ask how I
am satisfied with it; and beyond that question I have heard nothing
whatever of it since it left Hamburg. I wrote to Erard, thanking him for
his kind intention, as communicated by you, and saying how pleased I was
at the prospect of having a new piano. The old one left Hamburg on the
10th of August, but I have not yet had a line from Erard, no notice of
its arrival,--in fact, nothing. I should be much obliged if you would
let me know by return of post how matters stand,--whether I shall get
the old one back or a new one, when it is to leave London, and so on.
Meanwhile I have to make shift with a miserable old thing that goes out
on hire, and tough work it is.
We have quite an English congress here just now. Mrs. Shaw has made many
friends by her beautiful singing, and the public is looking forward with
great interest to Bennett’s new things. Clara Novello has been here too,
and gave a concert which was well attended. On this occasion all manner
of artistic rivalries and petty bickerings came to light, that would
much better have remained in the dark. No, really, when these dear
musicians begin to abuse one another, and to indulge in invective and
backbiting, I could forswear all music, or rather all musicians. It does
make me feel just like a cobbler; and yet it seems to be the fashion. I
used to think it was only the way with the hacks of the profession; but
the others are no better, and it takes a decent fellow with decent
principles to resist the pernicious influence. Well, on the other hand,
all this serves to show up what is good; and, by way of contrast, one
doubly appreciates good art, good artists, letters from you, and--after
all, this world of ours is not so bad.
Farewell, my dear friend; love from me and my wife to yours. How I wish
we could soon be all together! Love to the children too.
Ever yours,