I was trudging wearily along in the twilight through the public promenade of Strasburg, to restore my overwrought nerves, when I was suddenly taken aback by seeing on a theatre poster the word Tannhauser.  Looking at the bill more closely, I saw that it was the Overture to Tannhauser that was to be given as a prelude to a French play.  The exact meaning of this I did not quite understand, but of course I took my seat in the theatre, which was very empty.  The orchestra, looking all the larger from contrast with the empty house, was assembled in a huge space and was a very strong one.  The rendering given of my overture under the conductor’s baton was really a very good one.

As I was sitting rather near the front in the stalls, I was recognised by the man who was playing the kettledrum, as he had taken part in my Zurich performances in 1853.  The news of my presence spread like wildfire through the whole orchestra until it reached the ears of the conductor, and led to great excitement.  The small audience, who had evidently put in appearance simply on account of the French play, and who were not at all inclined to pay any particular attention to the overture, were very much astonished when, at the conclusion of the overture, the conductor and the whole orchestra turned round in the direction of my stall, and gave vent to enthusiastic applause, which I had to acknowledge with a bow.  All eyes followed me eagerly as I left the hall after this scene, to pay my respects to the conductor.  It was Herr Hasselmann, a native of Strasburg, and apparently a very good-natured, amiable fellow.  He accompanied me to my hotel and, amongst other things, told me the circumstances connected with the performance of my overture.  These somewhat surprised me.  According to the terms of a legacy left by a wealthy citizen of Strasburg, a great lover of music, who had already contributed very largely to the building of the theatre, the orchestra, whose flourishing condition was due to his beneficence, had to give, during the usual theatrical performances, one of the greater instrumental works with a full band once a week.  This time, as it happened, it was the turn for the overture to Tannhauser.  The feeling that was uppermost in my mind was one of envy that Strasburg should have produced a citizen whose like had never seen the light of day in any of the towns in which I had been connected with music, and more particularly Zurich.

Whilst I was discussing the state of music in Strasburg with Conductor Hasselmann, Orsini’s famous attempt on the life of the Emperor took place in Paris.  I heard some vague rumours of it on my journey the following morning, but it was not until the 17th, on my arrival in Paris, that I heard the full details of it from the waiter in my hotel.  I looked upon this event as a malicious stroke of fate, aimed at me personally.  Even at breakfast on the following morning, I feared I should see my old acquaintance,