On this account I was able to write my second orchestral suite which was played some years later at the Chatelet concerts.
But I went back to Paris before long, for I wanted to see, as soon as possible, the great city which had been so sorely tried. I had hardly got back when I met Emile Bergerat, the bright and delightful poet, who later became Théophile Gautier's son-in-law.
How dear a name in French letters is that of Théophile Gautier! What glory he heaped on them—that illustrious Benvenuto of style as they called him!
Bergerat took me with him one day to visit his future father-in-law.
My sensations in approaching that great poet were indescribable! He was no longer in the dawn of life, but he was still youthful and vivacious in thought, and rich in images with which he adorned his slightest conversation. And his learning was extremely wide and varied. I found him sitting in a large armchair with three cats about him. I have always been fond of the pretty creatures, so I at once made friends with them which put me in the good graces of their master.
Bergerat, who has continued to be a charming friend to me, told him that I was a musician and that a ballet over his name would open the doors of the Opéra to me. He developed on the spot two subjects for me: Le Preneur de Rats (The Rat Catcher) and La Fille du Roi des Aulnes. The recollection of Schubert frightened me off the latter, and it was arranged that the Rat Catcher should be offered to the director of the Opéra.
Nothing came of it as far as I was concerned. The name of the great poet was so dazzling that the poor musician was completely lost in its brilliance. It was said, however, that I would not remain a nonentity, but that I would finally emerge from obscurity.
Duquesnel, an admirable friend, then the director of the Odéon, at the instance of Hartmann, my publisher, sent for me to come to his office at the theater and asked me to write the stage music for the old tragedy Les Erinnyes by Leconte de Lisle. He read several scenes to me and I became enthusiastic at once.
How splendid the rehearsals were! They were under the direction of the celebrated artist Brindeau, the stage manager at the Odéon, but Leconte de Lisle managed them in person.
What an Olympian attitude was that of the famous translator of Homer, Sophocles, and Theocritus, those geniuses of the past whom he almost seemed to equal! How admirable the expression of his face with his double eye-glass which seemed a part of him and through which his eyes gleamed with lightning glances!