‘The City of London,’ the noise was unbearable.  My Columbus Overture, with its six trumpets, had early in the evening filled the audience with terror; and now, at the end, came Beethoven’s Schlacht bei Vittoria, for which, in enthusiastic expectation of limitless receipts, I had provided every imaginable orchestral luxury.  The firing of cannon and musketry was organised with the utmost elaboration, on both the French and English sides, by means of specially constructed and costly apparatus; while trumpets and bugles had been doubled and trebled.  Then began a battle, such as has seldom been more cruelly fought in a concert-room.  The orchestra flung itself, so to speak, upon the scanty audience with such an overwhelming superiority of numbers that the latter speedily gave up all thought of resistance and literally took to flight.  Mme. Schroder-Devrient had kindly taken a front seat, that she might hear the concert to an end.  Much as she may have been inured to terrors of this kind, this was more than she could stand, even out of friendship for me.  When, therefore, the English made a fresh desperate assault upon the French position, she took to flight, almost wringing her hands.  Her action became the signal for a panic-stricken stampede.  Every one rushed out; and Wellington’s victory was finally celebrated in a confidential outburst between myself and the orchestra alone.  Thus ended this wonderful musical festival.  Schroder-Devrient at once departed, deeply regretting the ill-success of her well-meant effort, and kindly left me to my fate.  After seeking comfort in the arms of my sorrowing sweetheart, and attempting to nerve myself for the morrow’s battle, which did not seem likely to end in a victorious symphony, I returned next morning to the hotel.  I found I could only reach my rooms by running the gauntlet between long rows of men and women in double file, who had all been specially invited thither for the settlement of their respective affairs.  Reserving the right to select individuals from among my visitors for separate interview, I first of all led in the second trumpeter of the orchestra, whose duty it had been to look after the cash and the music.  From his account I learned that, owing to the high fees which, in my generous enthusiasm, I had promised to the orchestra, a few more shillings and sixpences would still have to come out of my own pocket to meet these charges alone.  When this was settled, the position of affairs was plain.  The next person I invited to come in was Mme. Gottschalk, a trustworthy Jewess, with whom I wanted to come to some arrangement respecting the present crisis.  She perceived at once that more than ordinary help was required in this case, but did not doubt that I should be able to obtain it from my opulent connections in Leipzig.  She undertook, therefore, to appease the other creditors with tranquillising assurances, and railed, or pretended to rail, against their indecent conduct with great vigour.  Thus at last we succeeded, though not without some difficulty, in making the corridor outside my door once more passable.