When I was still a very young student, it was through Aristide Cavaillé-Coll that I met Baron Émile d’Erlanger. Cavaillé-Coll had built an organ in 1861 for the music room of the music-loving banker, whose mansion was located at 20 rue Taitbout, in the part of Paris that Boulevard Haussmann crosses today. Some twenty-five or thirty years later, the mansion, its music room, and organ were relocated to 76 avenue Kléber.

One day, Cavaillé-Coll took me to rue Taitbout in order to play for Rossini an organ piece that he had just written, but whose registration he had not decided on, given his inexperience as an organist. The task accomplished, Cavaillé asked him to kindly give me a lesson, really to rebuke me, concerning a “trial piece” whose spirit he judged very disturbing for the future. After listening to it, Rossini exclaimed, “It's not bad, the piece has rhythm and will, that's a lot.” I judged Rossini very favorably.

During the summer, Baron d’Erlanger and his brother-in-law, the Comte Étienne Henri de Serre de Saint-Roman, lived in Gouvieux, near Chantilly; the musical gatherings at the rue Taitbout were transferred there. I used to go every week, and it was there that I had the opportunity to compose Italian songs for a charming Greek, Maria Caradja, whose father had been the Greek ambassador in Paris. She had an admirable mezzo-soprano voice. The first reading—for she was a very good musician—took place outdoors after dinner. I accompanied her on a small harmonium that had been carried outside for the purpose.

Born in Frankfurt, Baron d’Erlanger had been brought up to the strains of Wagner's Rienzi, Tannhäuser, and Lohengrin. This is what he told me: