The time for concert-giving in Russia is Lent--March--as then the theatres are all closed. The cold was intense, and during my whole fortnight’s journey I never lost sight of the snow, and made only one short stop in Berlin to beg a letter of introduction to the Empress of Russia from her brother, the King of Prussia, which, with his invariable kindness, he sent me at once. Before leaving Paris, Balzac said to me: “Be sure at Tilsit to hunt up the post-master, M. Nernst. He is a clever, well-read man and may be useful to you.” So at Tilsit I walked into his office and there found a big man perched on a high stool. “M. Nernst?” I said, taking off my hat. “Yes, monsieur; to whom have I the honour of speaking?” “To Hector Berlioz.” “No! not really?” He bounced off his stool and landed before me, cap in hand. How well I remember my poor father’s happy pride in this story! “Not really?” he would repeat, and his laughter would ring out again and again. We had a cordial meeting-ground in our mutual friendship with Balzac, and after some hours’ rest I set out, warmed and comforted, in a horrible iron sledge wherein I endured a martyrdom till, four days later, I reached St Petersburg. Hardly had I shaken off the traces of my journey when M. Lenz, an old acquaintance, came to take me to Count Michael Wielhorski, from whom I received a most flattering welcome. He and his brother, by their love of art, their great connections and immense fortune, have made their palace a sort of little Ministry of Fine Arts. By them I was introduced to Romberg, General Guédéonoff, superintendent of the Imperial theatres, and General Lwoff, aide-de-camp to the Emperor, a composer of rare talent. Not to go into too many details, my visits both to St Petersburg and Moscow were the greatest success financially as well as artistically. My first concert (at which I was summoned, hot and dishevelled with my exertions, to the box of the Emperor, who was most gracious) made eighteen thousand francs; the expenses were six thousand, the balance was mine. I could not resist murmuring, as I turned to the south-west, “Ah, dear Parisians!” I must just recall one of my red-letter days--the performance of _Romeo and Juliet_ in St Petersburg. No wretched bargaining, no limitation of rehearsals here! I asked General Guédéonoff: “How many rehearsals can your Excellency allow me?” “How many? Why! as many as you want. They will rehearse until you are satisfied.” And they did; consequently it was royally, imperially, organised and performed. The vast theatre was full; diamonds, uniforms, helmets shone and glittered everywhere. I, too, was in good form, and conducted without a single mistake--a thing that, in those days, did not happen often.