GUSTAVE CHARPENTIER.
Cendrillon did not appear until May 24, 1899. These works presented one after another, at more than a year's interval however, brought me the following note from Gounod:
"A thousand congratulations, my dear friend, on your latest fine success. The devil! Well, you go at such a pace one can scarcely keep up with you."
As I have said, the score of Cendrillon, written on a pearl from that casket of jewels "Les Contes de Perrault," had been finished a long time. It had yielded its turn to Sapho at the Opéra-Comique. Our new director Albert Carré told me that he intended to give Cendrillon at the first possible chance, but that was six months away.
I was staying at Aix-les-Bains in remembrance of my father who had lived there, and I was deep in work on La Terre Promise. The Bible furnished a text and I got out an oratorio of three acts. As I said, I was deep in the work when my wife and I were overcome by the terrible news of the fire at the Charity Bazaar. My dear daughter was a salesgirl.
We had to wait until evening before a telegram arrived and ended our intense alarm.
A curious coincidence which I did not learn until long afterwards was that the heroine (Lucy Arbell) of Perséphone and Thérèse, as well as the beautiful Dulcinée (in Don Quichotte) was also among the salesgirls. She was only twelve or thirteen at the time, but in the midst of the general panic she found an exit behind the Hotel du Palais and succeeded in saving her mother and several others. This showed rare decision and courage for a child.
Since I have spoken of La Terre Promise, I may add that I had an entirely unexpected "hearing." Eugene d'Harcourt, who was so well thought of as a musician and a critic, the greatly applauded composer of Tasse which was put on at Monte Carlo, proposed to me that he direct a performance at the church of Sainte Eustache with an immense orchestra and chorus.
The second part was devoted to the taking of Jericho. A march—seven times interrupted by the resounding outbursts from seven great trumpets—ended with the collapse of the walls of that famous city which the Jews had to take and destroy. The resounding clamor of all the voices together was joined to the formidable thunder of the great organ of Saint Eustache.
With my wife I attended the final rehearsal in a large pulpit to which the venerable curé had done us the honor of inviting us.