The first performance took place on the 4th November 1863. There was no hostile demonstration except the hissing of one man, and he kept on regularly up to the tenth night. Five papers said everything insulting that they could think of, but, on the other hand, fifty articles of admiring criticism--among them those of my friends, Gasperini, d’Ortigue, L. Kreutzer, and Damcke--filled me with a joyous pride to which I had too long been a stranger. I also received many appreciative letters, and was frequently stopped in the street by strangers who begged to shake hands with the author of _The Trojans_. Were these not compensations for the diatribes of my foes? In spite of the cutting and polishing (I called it mutilation) that my _Trojans_ suffered at the hands of Carvalho, it only ran twenty-one nights. The receipts did not reach his expectations; he cancelled the engagement of Madame Charton-Demeur, who left for Madrid, and to my great comfort my work disappeared from the play-bills. Nevertheless, being both author and composer, my royalties for those twenty-one performances and the sale of the piano score in Paris and London amounted--to my unspeakable joy--to about the annual income I derived from the _Journal des Débats_, and I was, therefore, able to resign my post as critic. Freedom, after thirty years of slavery! No more articles to concoct, no more platitudes to excuse, no more commonplaces to extol, no more righteous wrath to bottle up, no more lies, no more farces, no more cowardly compromises! Free! I need never more set foot in theatre! Gloria in excelsis! Thanks to _The Trojans_ the wretched quill-driver is free!! * * * * * My _Beatrice_, having been a success at Baden in August 1862, was translated into German, and, at the request of the Grand Duchess of Saxe-Weimar, was given at Weimar in April 1863. Their Serene Highnesses desired me to direct the two first performances, and, as usual, overwhelmed me with kindness. So did the Prince of Hohenzollern-Hechingen, who sent his Kapellmeister to invite me to conduct a concert at Löwenberg, his present residence. He told me that his orchestra knew all my symphonies, and wished for a programme drawn exclusively from my own works. “Your Highness,” I said, “since your orchestra knows all, be pleased to choose for yourself. I will conduct whatever you wish.” He therefore chose _King Lear_, the festival and love-scene from _Romeo_, the _Carnaval Romain_ overture, and _Harold in Italy_. As he had no harpist, Madame Pohl of Weimar, with her husband, was invited. The Prince had greatly changed since my visit in 1842; he was a martyr to gout, and was, after all, unable to be present at the concert he had planned. He was keenly disappointed, for, said he, “You are not a mere conductor; you are the orchestra itself; it is hard that I cannot reap the benefit of your stay here.”