The Forum from the First Act of _Roma_ (_See page 300_) 154 Posthumia (_Roma_) (_See page 297_) 170 Lucy Arbell 212 Persephone in _Ariane_ 244 Queen Amahelly (_Bacchus_) 268 Dulcinée (_Don Quichotte_) 282 Facsimile of Massenet's Reply to an Invitation to Visit America 296 MY RECOLLECTIONS CHAPTER I MY ADMISSION TO THE CONSERVATOIRE Were I to live a thousand years--which is hardly likely--I should never forget that fateful day, February 24, 1848, when I was just six years old. Not so much because it coincided with the fall of the Monarchy of July, as that it marked the first steps of my musical career--a career which, even yet, I am not sure was my real destiny, so great is my love for the exact sciences! At that time I lived with my parents in the Rue de Beaune in an apartment overlooking the great gardens. The day promised to be fine, but it was very cold. We were at luncheon when the waitress rushed into the room like a maniac. "_Aux armes, citoyens!_" she yelled, throwing rather than placing the plates on the table. I was too young to understand what was going on in the streets. All I can remember is that riots broke out and that the Revolution smashed the throne of the most debonair of kings. The feelings which stirred my father were entirely different from those which disturbed my mother's already distracted soul. My father had been an officer under Napoleon Bonaparte and a friend of Marshal Soult, Duke of Dalmatia. He was all for the Emperor, and the atmosphere of battles suited his temperament. My mother, on the other hand, had experienced the sorrows of the first great revolution, which dragged Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette from their throne, and thrilled with worship for the Bourbons. The memory of that exciting meal remained the more deeply fixed in my mind because on the morning of that historic day, by the light of tallow candles (wax candles were only for the rich) my mother for the first time placed my fingers on the piano. In order best to introduce me to the knowledge of this instrument, my mother--she was my music teacher--stretched along the keyboard a strip of paper upon which she wrote the notes corresponding to each of the black and white keys, with their position on the five lines. It was most ingenious; no mistake was possible. My progress on the piano was so pronounced that three years later, in October, 1851, my parents thought I ought to apply at the Conservatoire for the entrance examination to the piano classes.