As everyone knows Händel'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 Cité Frochot. I took with me the manuscript of Ève, 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 Sacré had Ève 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 café nearby for the news brought by an old comrade, Taffanel, then the first flute player at the Opéra and at the Concerts de l'Harmonie Sacrée. 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 Opéra!
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 confrères 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.