Madame Charton-Demeur, the only possible woman for Dido, most generously accepted fees far below those offered her in Madrid, but despite everything the production was incomplete; indeed, the sceneshifters made such a muddle of the storm scene that we were obliged to suppress it entirely. As I said before, if I am to superintend a really fine representation I must have an absolutely free hand, and the good-will of every one around, otherwise I get worn out with storming at opposition, and end by resigning and letting everything go to the devil as it will. I cannot describe what Carvalho[29] made me suffer in demanding cuts that he deemed necessary. When he dared ask no more he worked upon me through friends, whose niggling, peddling criticism drove me nearly mad. Said one: “How about your rhapsodist with the four-stringed lyre? I daresay you are right as to archæology, but----” “Well?” “It is rather dangerous; people are certain to laugh.” “H’m! laughable is it that an antique lyre should have only four notes?” Another: “There is a risky word in your prologue that I fairly tremble over.” “What’s that?” “_Triomphaux._” “Well, why not? Is not it the plural of _triomphal_ just as _chevaux_ is of _cheval_?” “Yes, but it is not much used.” “Oh, confound it all! If, in an epic poem, I were to use words suited to vaudevilles and variety shows, I should not have much choice of language.” “Well, people will certainly laugh.” “Ha! ha! triomphaux! It is really almost as funny as Molière’s _tarte à la crême_. Ha! ha!” A third: “I say! You really must _not_ let Æneas come on in a helmet.” “And why not?” “Why, Mangin, the gutter pencil-seller, wears one. Certainly his is a mediæval one, but that doesn’t matter. The gallery cads will certainly howl ‘Hallo! there’s Mangin!’ “I see--a Trojan hero may not wear a helmet, lest he should be like Mangin!” Number four: “Old fellow, do something to please me!” “What is it now?” “Suppress Mercury. Those wings on his head and his heels are really too comical. No one ever saw anybody with wings anywhere but on their shoulders.” “Ah, you have seen people with wings on their shoulders? I have not, but I can quite understand that wings in unexpected places are awkward. One does not often meet Mercury strolling about the streets of Paris.” Can any one conceive what these crass idiots made me endure? In addition, I had to fight the musical ideas of Carvalho, who could not believe that, after studying opera for forty years, I knew just a little about it. The actors alone loyally abstained from worrying me, for which forbearance I give them all most hearty thanks.