The Théâtre-Lyrique was then on the Boulevard du Temple and it gave me a place in its orchestra as kettle-drummer. Then, good Father Strauss, the orchestra leader at the Opéra balls, let me play the bass drum, the kettle-drums, the tam-tam, and all the rest of the resonant instruments. It was dreadfully tiring to sit up every Saturday from midnight until six in the morning, but all told I managed to make eighty francs a month. I felt as rich as a banker and as happy as a cobbler. The Théâtre-Lyrique was founded by the elder Alexander Dumas as the Théâtre-Historique, and was established by Adolphe Adam. I was living at the time at No. 5, Rue de Ménilmontant, in a huge building, almost a city in itself. My neighbors on the floor, separated only by a narrow partition, were the clowns--both men and women--of the Cirque Napoléon which was near our house. From my attic window I was able to enjoy--for nothing of course--whiffs from the orchestra which escaped from the popular concerts that Pasdeloup conducted in the circus every Sunday. This happened whenever the audience packed in the overheated hall shouted loudly for air and they opened the casement windows on the third floor to satisfy them. From my perch--that is the only thing to call it--I applauded with feverish joy the overture of _Tannhauser_, the _Symphonie Fantastique_, in short the music of my gods: Wagner and Berlioz. Every evening at six o'clock--the theater began very early--I went by the way of the Rue des Fossés-du-Temple, near my house, to the stage door of the Théâtre-Lyrique. In those days the left side of the Boulevard du Temple was one unbroken line of theaters. Consequently I went along the back of the Funambules, the Petit-Lazari, the Délassements-Comiques, the Cirque Impérial and the Gaîté. Those who did not know that corner of Paris in 1859 can have no idea of it. The Rue des Fossés-du-Temple, on which all the stage doors opened, was a sort of wonderland where all the supers, male and female, from all the theaters waited in great crowds on the dimly lighted pavements. The atmosphere was full of vermin and microbes. Even in our Théâtre-Lyrique the musicians' dressing room was only an old stable in which the horses used in historical plays were kept. Still, my delight was too great for words and I felt that I was to be envied as I sat in the fine orchestra which Deloffre conducted. Ah! those rehearsals of _Faust_! My happiness could not be expressed when, from my own little corner, I could leisurely devour with my eyes our great Gounod who managed our work from the stage. Many times later on when we came out, side by side, from the sessions of the Institute--Gounod lived in the Place Malesherbes--we talked over the time when _Faust_--now past its thousandth performance--was such a subject for discussion and criticism in the press, while the dear public--which is rarely deceived--applauded it. _Vox Populi, vox Dei!_