, Seghers offered it as a symphony by an
unknown author, which had been sent to him from Germany. The committees
swallowed the bait, and the symphony, which would probably not had a
hearing if my name had been signed, was praised to the skies.

I can still see myself at a rehearsal listening to a conversation
between Berlioz and Gounod. Both of them were greatly interested in me,
so that they spoke freely and discussed the excellences and faults of
this anonymous symphony. They took the work seriously and it can be
imagined how I drank in their words. When the veil of mystery was
lifted, the interest of the two great musicians changed to friendship. I
received a letter from Gounod, which I have kept carefully, and as it
does credit to the author, I take the liberty of reproducing it here:

My dear Camille:

I was officially informed yesterday that you are the author of the
symphony which they played on Sunday. I suspected it; but now that
I am sure, I want to tell you at once how pleased I was with it.
You are beyond your years; always keep on--and remember that on
Sunday, December 11, 1853, you obligated yourself to become a great
master.

Your pleased and devoted friend,

CH. GOUNOD.

Many works which had been unknown to Parisian audiences were given at
these concerts and nowhere else. Among them were Schubert's _Symphony in
C,_ fragments of Weber's opera _Preciosa,_ his _Jubel overture_, and
symphonies by Gade, Gouvy, Gounod, and Reber. These symphonies are not
dazzling but they are charming. They form an interesting link in the
golden chain, and the public has a right and even some sort of duty to
hear them. They would enjoy hearing them too, just as at the Louvre they
like to see certain pictures which are not extraordinary but which are,
nevertheless, worthy of the place they occupy. That is to say, if the
public is really guided by a love of art and seeks only intellectual
pleasure instead of sensations and shocks. Some one has said lately that
where there is no feeling there is no music. We could, however, cite
many passages of music which are absolutely lacking in emotion and which
are beautiful nevertheless from the standpoint of pure esthetic beauty.
But what am I saying? Painting goes its own way and emotion, feeling,
and passion are evoked by the least landscape. Maurice Barres brought in
this fashion and he could even see passion in rocks. Happy is he who