part I tender him my sincere thanks.

Our first _Marie Magdeleine_ on the stage was Lina Pacary. That born artist, in voice, beauty and talent was fitted for the creation of this part, and when the same theater later put on _Ariane_, Lina Pacary was again selected as the interpreter. Her uninterrupted success made her theatrical life really admirable.

The year following my dear friend and director Albert Carre put the work on at the Opera-Comique. It was my good fortune to have as my interpreters Mme. Marguerite Carre, Mme. Aino Ackte, and Salignac.

So I lived again in Rome in the most pleasant thoughts of _Marie Magdeleine_. Naturally it was the topic of conversation on the ideal walks I took with Hebert in the Roman Campagna.

Hebert was not only a great painter but also a distinguished poet and musician. In the latter capacity he played in a quartet which was often heard at the Academie.

Ingres, also a director of the Academie, played the violin. Delacroix was asked one day what he thought of Ingres's violin playing.

"He plays like Raphael," was the amusing answer of this brilliant colorist.

So delightful was our stay in Rome that it was with regret that we left that city so dear to our memories and went back to Paris.

I had hardly got back to No. 46 Rue du General Foy--where I lived for thirty years--than I became absorbed in a libretto by Jules Adenis--_Les Templiers_.

I had hardly written two acts when I began to worry about it. The piece was extremely interesting, but its historical situations took me along the road already travelled by Meyerbeer.

Hartmann agreed with me; indeed my publisher was so outspoken about it that I tore into bits the two hundred pages which I had submitted to him.

In deep trouble, hardly knowing where I was going, I happened to think of calling on Louis Gallet, my collaborator in _Marie Magdeleine_. I came from this interview with him with the plan of _Le Roi de Lahore_. From the funeral pyre of the last Grand Master of the Templars, Jean Jacques de Molay, whom I had given up, I found myself in the Paradise of India. It was the seventh heaven of bliss for me.

Charles Lamoureux, the famous orchestra leader, had just founded the Concerts de l'Harmonie Sacree in the Cirque des Champs Elysees, which to-day has disappeared. (What a wicked delight they take in turning a superb theater into a branch of the Bank or an excellent concert hall into a grass plot of the Champs Elysees!)

As everyone knows Haendel's oratorios made these concerts famous and successful.

One snowy morning in January Hartmann introduced me to Lamoureux who lived in a garden in the Cite Frochot. I took with me the manuscript of _Eve_, a mystical play in three acts.

The hearing took place before lunch. And by the time we had reached the coffee we were in complete accord. The work was to go to rehearsal with the following famous interpreters: Mme. Brunet Lafleur and Mm. Lasalle and Prunet.

Les Concerts de l'Harmonie Sacre had _Eve_ on the program of the eighteenth of March, 1875, as had been arranged.

In spite of the superb general rehearsal in the entirely empty hall--that was the reason I was there, for I had already begun to avoid the excitements of public performances--I waited in a small cafe nearby for the news brought by an old comrade, Taffanel, then the first flute player at the Opera and at the Concerts de l'Harmonie Sacree. Ah, my dear Taffanel, my departed friend, whom I loved so well, how dear to me were your affection and your talent when you conducted my works at the Opera!

After each part Taffanel ran across the street and told me the comforting news. After the third part he was still encouraging, and he told me hastily that it was all over, that the audience had gone, and begged me to come at once and thank Lamoureux.

I believed him, but what a fraud he was! No sooner was I in the musicians' foyer than I was blown like a feather into my confreres arms, which I grabbed as hard as I could, for I now understood the trick. But they put me down on the stage before the audience which was still there and still applauding and waving their hats and handkerchiefs.

I got up, bounced like a ball, and disappeared--furious!

I have drawn this doubtless exaggerated picture of my success because the moments which followed were terrible for me and showed in contrast the vanity of the things of this world.

A servant had been searching for me all the evening as she did not know my whereabouts in Paris and she found me at last at the door of the concert hall. With tears in her eyes she bade me come to my mother who was very ill. My dear mother was living in the Rue Notre-Dame-de-Lorette. I had sent her seats for herself and my sister and I felt sure that both of them had been at the concert.

The servant and I jumped into a cab, and when I reached the landing, my sister, with outstretched arms and sobbing, cried, "Mamma is dead ... at ten o'clock this evening."

Words cannot express my deep grief at this announcement of the terrible misfortune which had come upon me. It darkened my days just at the time when it seemed as if a kind heaven wished to drive away the clouds.

In accordance with my mother's last wishes, she was embalmed the next day. My sister and I, both prostrated by grief, were there, when we were surprised by the sudden appearance of Hartmann. I dragged him swiftly away from the painful sight, and he hurried out, but not before he had said,

"You are down for the cross!"

Poor mother! how proud she would have been!

March, 21, 1875

_Dear Friend:_

If I had not lost your card and, consequently, your address, for which I searched for a quarter of an hour in the _Testaccio_ of my papers, I would have told you yesterday of my keen joy and deep emotion at hearing your _Eve_ and at its success. The triumph of one of the Elect should be a festival for the Church. And you are one of the Elect, my dear friend; Heaven has marked you with a sign as one of its children; I feel it in everything which your beautiful work has stirred in my heart. But prepare for the martyr's role--for the part which must be played by all who come from on high and offend what comes from below. Remember that when the Lord said, "He is one of the Elect," he added, "And I will show him how greatly he must suffer in my name."

Wherefore, my dear friend, spread forth your wings boldly, and trust yourself fearlessly to the lofty regions where the lead of earth cannot hit the bird of heaven.

Yours with all my heart,

CH. GOUNOD.