“This morning, in the Hatred scene, Saint-Saëns and I could only grasp hands in silence—we were breathless!
“Never did human being find such expression! And to think that this masterpiece is vilified, blasphemed, insulted, attacked on all sides, even by those who profess to admire it. It belongs to another world. Why are you not here to enjoy it too!
“Will you believe that since I have taken to music again my pains have departed?
“I get up every day just like other people. But I have quite enough to endure with the actors, and, above all, with the conductor. It is coming out in April.
“Madame Fournier writes that a friend she met in Geneva spoke warmly of The Trojans. That is good, but I should have done better if I had written one of Offenbach’s atrocities.
“What will those toads of Parisians say to Armida?”
“8th March 1866.—Dear Humbert,—I am answering you this morning simply to tell you what happened yesterday at a great charity concert—with trebled prices—in the Cirque Napoléon, under Pasdeloup.
“They played the great Septuor from The Trojans, Madame Charton sang; there was a chorus of a hundred and fifty, and the usual fine orchestra.
“The whole programme was miserably received except the Lohengrin March, and the overture to the Prophet was so hissed that the police had to turn out the malcontents.
“Then came the Septuor. Endless applause, and an encore.