Jullien was just the man for the period in which he worked, and certainly he thoroughly exploited his versatility […] He had a dais built in the centre of the orchestra, the floor of which was covered with white cloth having a gold-lace border. On the dais he had a splendid arm-chair of white and gold. When he directed, he stood up and faced the audience, his string forces being on either hand, part way between him and the audience, but leaving him in full view; and the wood and wind were on each side, with the brass in the rear.

In conducting dance music or anything of a distinctly rhythmical character, he would mark the rhythm so graphically with his baton that people actually saw it at the end of his stick. They could not mistake that, if they had eyes. No one was allowed to go to sleep. When the various soli obligati were forthcoming, he would turn to the players thereof; and the audience then saw him conduct that little or big phrase, give emphasis and expression to it, and coax it out with his baton—his wizard baton—in such a way that seeing and hearing were simply one fact Jullien did it all