Not being versed in the manners and customs of theatrical musicians, I arranged with the manager to take his theatre and orchestra, adding to the latter some players from the Opera, an impossibly dangerous combination, since the theatre _employés_ were bound by contract to take part gratuitously in concerts in their own house, and, therefore, naturally look upon them as a burden. By engaging paid artists, I simply added to their grievance, and they determined to be revenged. Then, my wife and I being equally ignorant of the petty intrigues of the theatrical world we took no precautions to insure her success. We never even sent a ticket to the _claque_, and Madame Dorval, believing Henriette’s triumph secured, of course took measures to arrange for her own. Besides, she played splendidly, so it was no wonder she was applauded and recalled. The fourth act of _Hamlet_, separated from its context, was incomprehensible to French people and fell absolutely flat. They even noticed (although her talent and grace were as great as ever) how difficult my poor wife found it to raise herself from her kneeling position by her father’s bier, by resting one hand on the stage. Gone was her magnetic power to thrill her audience, and, at the fall of the curtain, those who had idolised her did not even recall her once! It was heart-breaking. My poor Ophelia, the twilight had indeed crept on! As to the concert, the _Francs-Juges_ was poorly played but well received; the _Concert-Stück_, played by Liszt with the passionate impetuosity he always put into it, created a furore, and I, carried away by enthusiasm, was idiotic enough to embrace him on the stage, a piece of stupidity fortunately condoned by the audience. From then things went badly, and by the time we arrived at the symphony not only were my pulses beating like sledge-hammers, but it was very late indeed. I knew nothing of the rule of the Théâtre Italien, that its musicians need not play after midnight, and when, after Weber’s _Chorus_, I turned to review my orchestra before raising my baton, I found that it consisted of five violins, two violas, four ’cellos, and a trombone, all the others having slipped quietly away. In my consternation I could not think what to do. The audience did not seem inclined to leave and loudly called for the symphony, one voice in the gallery shouting, “Give us the _Marche au Supplice_!” “How can I,” cried I, “perform such a thing with five violins? Is it my fault that the orchestra has disappeared?” I was crimson with rage and shame. With disappointed murmurs the people melted away. Of course my enemies announced that my music “drove musicians out of the place.” That miserable evening brought in seven thousand francs, which went into the gulf of my wife’s debts without, alas! filling it up. That was only done after years of struggle and privation.