My spirits which had been dreadfully depressed during my journey with my Mother grew lighter as I felt myself independent. I met John Welsh1
this morning and played billiards with him all the morning. The tables at the Café François very fine. After dinner went to the Castle Garden to wait for Madame, found her and conveyed her safely to the City Hotel, after which I went to the Opera and heard the first performance of Romeo and Juliet.2
Parts of it pleased me very much particularly Garcia in the close of the Second Act. But I did not think it a very remarkable piece. The commencement of the overture is pretty, but there seems to be more noise than harmony in the generality of the music. Watkins was with me who knew nothing whatever about music and merely went for fashion’s sake. He troubled me considerably at first, but as this sort of performance is not one which is often presented to us Americans, I could not afford to lose it.