BtRKlUY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY Of 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
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An American Girl 
 in Munich 
 
IXX X IIIXX X XXIXIXI I I HIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIX III STTTT T T I III I TTTTT 
 
 An 
 
 American Girl 
 in Munich 
 
 Impressions of a Music Student 
 
 By 
 Mabel W. Daniels 
 
 Boston 
 
 Little, Brown, and Company 
 
 1905 
 
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■TJSIC LIB. 
 
 Copyright, 1905, 
 
 By Little, Brown, and Company, 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 Published March, 1905 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. 
 
MOSIC 
 
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 To Muttercken 
 
 580 
 
An American Girl in 
 Munich 
 
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 Munich, September 15, 1902. 
 
 Dear Cecilia : — 
 
 TT y*ERE I AIM IN MY MECCA 
 
 m — w at last after a " calm sea and pros- 
 JL JL perous voyage." Would that you 
 were with me to share my pleasures, and, 
 yes, I am selfish enough to add, my troubles, 
 too, for you have such a magical power of 
 charming away the latter that they seem 
 but trifling vexations. Then I should so 
 enjoy watching your delicious blue eyes 
 open wide at these Germans and their queer 
 customs, and oh ! how you would elevate 
 the tip of your aristocratic nose at my box 
 of a study, which, however, I consider the 
 height of cosiness and comfort — from a 
 German standpoint. 
 
 Lest by this last remark I Ve imperilled 
 my reputation for patriotism, let me hasten 
 [5] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 to assure you that I am as far from adopt- 
 ing a foreign point of view in my contem- 
 plation of Man and the Universe as when 
 we used to walk from college down to Har- 
 vard Square and " have out " the discussions 
 kindled by our four o'clock lecture. It's 
 only in the concrete things of life that I 've 
 been forced to abandon my Bostonian, and 
 therefore, of course, unimpeachable stand- 
 ards. I have learned how unwise a thing it 
 would be for me to say to a German land- 
 lady, " Show me an apartment with running 
 water, steam heat, electric lights, and a 
 porcelain bath-tub." The poor bewildered 
 creature would give me over at once into 
 the hands of the omnipotent Polizei on the 
 ground of insanity. But perhaps, after all, 
 the best way of explaining myself is to fol- 
 low the injunction in your letter : " Begin at 
 the beginning and tell me all about it." 
 
 Mihtterchen and I arrived at Munich late 
 in the evening, and went directly to a hotel 
 near the station, where we slept soundly 
 after our long trip. Early the next morning 
 I set out to look for a permanent abode. On 
 [6] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
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 my list were a number of well-recommended 
 pensions, and I chose, naturally, the nearest 
 at hand. It was not so easy to find as I had 
 at first thought, for a German street has a 
 queer fashion of changing its name every 
 few blocks, so I deemed it wisest to inquire 
 the way of a passer-by. Frankly, I had 
 rather prided myself on my knowledge of 
 the language, fondly imagining that I should 
 have no trouble in understanding it or in 
 making myself intelligible. With that sub- 
 lime assurance born only of ignorance, I 
 approached an honest-faced workman, and 
 in a charmingly idiomatic sentence inquired 
 the shortest way to Barer-strasse. He 
 stared at me hard for a moment, and then 
 burst into a flood of harsh-sounding words, 
 not one of which fell familiarly on my ear. 
 I was puzzled for a moment, but, thinking 
 I must have mistaken his nationality, I 
 bowed my thanks and made my way to a 
 policeman on the corner, who, by the bye, 
 wears a gleaming helmet like those of the 
 soldier chorus in " Faust." His answer was 
 fully as incomprehensible as the other, and 
 
 m 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
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 I realized suddenly, with an overwhelming 
 sense of helplessness, that this strange-sound- 
 ing tongue must be the Bavarian dialect, and 
 to understand it would require a totally new 
 vocabulary. My enthusiasm was distinctly 
 dampened, but I bravely opened the Red 
 Book, which I had hitherto scorned, and un- 
 folding the map of Munich to its full extent, 
 I laboriously studied the tangle of black and 
 red lines for a quarter of an hour before I 
 found the desired street. 
 
 To reach the pension took but a short 
 time, and I was relieved to discover that the 
 landlady spoke north German and a little 
 English. She was a large, red-cheeked, 
 breezy person, and I felt very much like a 
 small boat in tow of a big ship, as I meekly 
 followed at her heels, while she showed me 
 her vacant rooms, accompanying her smiles, 
 bows, and gesticulations with a torrent of 
 volubility. Finally she ushered me into a 
 stuffy room, over-crowded with furniture, 
 which she proudly called the " salon," and 
 pointing out as piece de resistance a decrepit, 
 yellow-keyed piano, announced that it was 
 
 [8] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
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 " for the use of the guests." But the change, 
 dear Cecilia, when I, like the stage villain, 
 disclosed my identity ! The alluring smile 
 melted in a trice ; the persuasive tones dis- 
 appeared for the sharp rasp of the up-to-date 
 business woman. I learned that a music 
 student was regarded as an incubus, and 
 shunned accordingly. Practice hours must 
 be limited from, perhaps, nine-thirty to 
 twelve and from four to seven. The only 
 possible room was up four flights. Did I 
 use the loud pedal much ? Did I play any 
 " pieces " or only " five-finger exercises " ? 
 
 I cannot tell you all the questions she 
 hurled at me. Suffice it to say, I left, down- 
 cast and disheartened, only to meet practi- 
 cally the same experience at each pension in 
 turn. If there were already a music student 
 in possession, that was the signal for me in- 
 stantly to withdraw. If there were none, I 
 found the rooms so undesirable, or practice 
 hours so limited, that to remain was 
 impossible. 
 
 At length I chanced to encounter, return- 
 ing from her mornings work at the Pin- 
 [9] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 »;HfmimiIII TTIIITIITIIITITIITTIIITTrHHITHT TIHT l tTTH Ii m»»mT I T I 
 
 akothek, an art student whom I had met on 
 the steamer, and she told me of a house 
 where she thought there were no Musi- 
 kers as yet. With an anxious heart I 
 hurried up the narrow stairs, and interviewed 
 the landlady, who proved to be a most genial 
 creature. An hour later we had left the 
 hotel and were ensconced as proud posses- 
 sors of two adjoining rooms. The larger we 
 use for a sleeping-room, and the smaller is 
 dignified by the name of " salon." It is 
 there that I am to work, and I have already 
 succeeded in making it a little more home- 
 like, by placing a screen to mitigate the de- 
 pressing hideousness of the stove, and by 
 setting out my photographs on desk and 
 table. I have, too, tacked on the wall the 
 Glee Club pictures and several snapshots 
 which you took that memorable spring day 
 in the Yard. 
 
 The pension itself is small. Indeed, the 
 Frau Baronin — which is the title with 
 which I am to address my landlady — tells 
 me she seldom has more than ten guests in 
 the house. She also says that most of her 
 [10] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
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 pensionnaires are German, for which we are 
 grateful. I cannot understand why so many 
 Americans come over here expecting to 
 see something of the life and then establish 
 themselves in one of those hotel-like board- 
 ing-houses where the majority of the inmates 
 speak only the English tongue. 
 
 The view from our windows is charming, 
 for Maximilians-Platz is one of the most at- 
 tractive spots in the city. As I look down 
 on the waving tops, and green lawns dotted 
 with flowers, I forget that I am in the city 
 at all. Leaning out on the ledge, with 
 the warm breath of the wind on my fore- 
 head, the twittering of birds and the soft 
 plash of the fountain in my ears, the temp- 
 tation to revel in all sorts of Arcadian 
 dreams would be fairly irresistible, were not 
 this idyllic illusion suddenly put to flight by 
 the prosaic rumble of passing trams, which 
 straightway brings me down to the com- 
 monplace. 
 
 Really, I didn't introduce that fountain 
 just to create a romantic description, though 
 it does sound rather like a daily theme. 
 
 [11] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rrTTXTITTTll I I IIII tTTT l I lIIT TTIIISIIITTirilllllllllZXIIXXIIIXIXXXIIIIIIIIim 
 
 The best part of it is it's real, — and the 
 loveliest thing in Miinchen. You can read 
 about it any day in the Red Book, and can 
 discover countless pictures of it, but, believe 
 me, nothing can give you an idea of its 
 sound as one stands at a little distance. If 
 I were to score it I should use the strings 
 and a harp — the former divided and sub- 
 divided as in the prelude to Lohengrin ; 
 and then perhaps I 'd add a clarinet to give 
 the effect of the birds' call which mingles 
 exquisitely with the plaintive music of the 
 water. 
 
 Later. 
 My first appearance in German society 
 was made last evening at seven-thirty. We 
 were shown by Gretchen, our stout maid, 
 into the dining-room, — a large room with 
 a long table in the centre, about which a 
 number of people were sitting. At one end 
 was the Baron. He is very fat, very jovial, 
 and very red of face. Precisely the same 
 adjectives somewhat intensified might be 
 applied to his wife, who sat opposite. When 
 [12] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 U l IX X I IXXXXXXXIX XXXXXXXXI XXXXXXXXXXX XX XXX X X X XXXXXXX X I I I I i r i XXTI IU lTrTTTrm 
 
 neither of them was talking, they were 
 laughing in the most infectious fashion 
 imaginable. Isn't it queer to picture the 
 nobility of Europe as running boarding- 
 houses ? I rather fancied I might see some 
 of its members riding by in magnificent 
 carriages, with high-stepping horses and 
 clashing chains. I had pictured them as 
 lounging against the cushions of their 
 coaches with an air of bored grandeur, while 
 somewhere in the background shone a glint 
 of ermine, — but behold! German aristoc- 
 racy bursts upon me in my landlord and 
 landlady. 
 
 Mutterchen was given the place of honor 
 at the Baron's right. I sat next. My vis- 
 a-vis was a Frenchman whom I heard them 
 addressing as " Herr Doktor." He was as 
 typical of his nation as the Baron of his, and 
 surveyed me critically from behind his gold- 
 rimmed spectacles. It did not take me 
 long to discover that he was intensely proud 
 of his English, which was very bad. On 
 his left sat Frau von Waldfel, a Hungarian, 
 who monopolized the conversation in a high, 
 [13] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 CTTTXTIITTTTIIIITTTT I I Iil TTTTI I I II TTTTIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIXIIIIIIIIIIH 
 
 rasping voice, and whose red cheeks, prom- 
 inent nose, and beady black eyes bespoke 
 aggressiveness of the most aggressive type. 
 Then came Karl, the Baron's son, a stout, 
 mischievous, frank-faced boy of fourteen, 
 and on my right hand sat a blond-haired 
 young man of about five and twenty, whom 
 I should have acknowledged handsome had 
 not his face been disfigured by several scars. 
 I put him down at once as a student, for I 
 had not travelled through Heidelberg on 
 my way southward without learning some- 
 thing of the duelling custom. We were 
 eight in all. 
 
 The first meal in a strange pension is an 
 awful ordeal. We both rather dreaded it, 
 the more so as no one present spoke Eng- 
 lish, except Frau von Waldfel, and we were 
 rather timid about airing our knowledge of 
 German. Then, too, every one seemed to 
 converse so fast that the words fairly tum- 
 bled over one another. Whenever I heard 
 a totally strange phrase I soothed my pride 
 by saying, sotto voce, to Mutterchen, " Again 
 that demoniacal dialect ! " The Baron and 
 [14] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 CXXXXlX I XI XI lZZ I XXIIIXXI irilIIIII XX IIIIITIIIIIIIIIIllt li iiirTTT-. Liii t TTTTTT T n 
 
 Baroness were extremely kind, however, and 
 did their utmost to make us feel at home, 
 while Frau von Waldfel was in her element. 
 These foreigners do so appreciate an oppor- 
 tunity to practise their English ! 
 
 Between the continual making and con- 
 suming of numberless small sandwiches, 
 which she prepared in a marvellously skilful 
 fashion from her bread and butter, she con- 
 versed in the following manner, never paus- 
 ing for a reply : 
 
 " Have you been to Dresden or Hamburg 
 or Berlin ? I don't care for those cities at 
 all. They 're frightful. Why, they simply 
 starve you ! Of course in Hamburg one 
 does find good meat pie; the only decent 
 thing in Dresden is the pastry. But give 
 me Vienna ! That 's the city of Europe ! 
 One can get most be-au-ti-ful things to eat 
 there." 
 
 Shades of the Sistine ! Fancy travelling 
 through Europe " for thy stomach's sake " ! 
 Possibly, however, this is no more unworthy 
 an object than that of an American girl 
 whom I met yesterday. " Like Munich ? 
 [15 1 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rT T H I I XIllT mim T I l HIH IX I XXXXXXX X XXXXXXXX XXXX X X X X XXXXXXXXXXI IIIIIIlirTn 
 
 I should rather say not. There isn't one 
 decent shop in the place ! " 
 
 Just to think of all the articles they are 
 writing at home to prove that we are fast 
 developing an artistic sense ! 
 
 Anything more inconvenient than the 
 arrangement of meals would be hard to find 
 — with the exception of breakfast. This is 
 served when and where you want it and con- 
 sists of rolls and coffee. It seems we are 
 especially lucky inasmuch as we receive 
 honey also "without extra charge," as the 
 Baroness impressively added. At eleven 
 o'clock comes the Zweites Frilhstuck which 
 I rather imagine I shall omit. At one 
 occurs Mittaggessen, a pompous meal re- 
 quiring at least an hour. At five every one 
 has afternoon coffee and a bit of cake. I 
 hear there are any number of beguiling out- 
 door cafes where one can sit under the 
 trees and hear good music. At seven-thirty 
 your true son of Germany hungers yet 
 again, and Abendessen (supper) is served. 
 If, however, one wishes to attend any form 
 of entertainment he must eat a cold supper 
 [16] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 ii n »T i i miiiTitmi T i i i T i T iii i iii i Tiiiiiiiiiii i iiiiii:iiii i :i:iiiiiiriii -m 
 
 early, in a bare and deserted dining-room, 
 for the opera and concerts generally begin 
 at seven o'clock. Do not imagine, my dear, 
 that the German can now go to bed satis- 
 fied, for the Baroness assures me that he 
 either sets out at once for a beer-hall and 
 lingers over his stein all the evening, or 
 about ten he has brought to his room such 
 soporific things as cheese sandwiches, cold 
 sausage, and, of course, the inevitable bever- 
 age. It 's simply impossible for people to 
 be hungry here. They don't have time to 
 acquire an appetite. 
 
 Good night to you now, for it is growing 
 late. I wonder what it will all be like, 
 everything seems so strange now, and I feel 
 as though I were a year's journey from 
 America. Well, I shall do my best to 
 write you all that happens. My plan is to 
 keep a musical journal ; that is, a record 
 of all that occurs relating to my studies, 
 and occasionally you won't mind, will you, 
 if I copy an item or two from that into 
 your letters ? It will seem so much more 
 as though I were talking to you if I scribble 
 2 [17] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 t ixix i x i xiiixig i xiiiiixiii xixixxxxzi xxxixxix i iinxii i i i imi TTTt miiiii i T TTi 
 
 down things from day to day and then send 
 the whole off in a batch, instead of writing 
 in the conventional way one generally does. 
 There is a clock striking now. It must 
 be that of the two-towered Frauenkirche 
 which is so near. So this time really good 
 night and angenehme Ruh\ which means " a 
 pleasant rest to you ! " 
 
 September 19. 
 
 It was with a certain repressed excitement 
 that I made my way toward Ainmiiller- 
 strasse, at half-past eight this morning, to 
 pay my first visit to Professor Thuille. My 
 letters of introduction were clasped tightly 
 in my hand, and I walked so rapidly that by 
 the time I found myself on the landing be- 
 fore his door, after climbing several flights 
 of stairs, — you know every one lives in a 
 Wohnung (apartment) here, and an elevator 
 in a dwelling-house is an almost unheard-of 
 luxury, — I was completely out of breath. 
 It still lacked fifteen minutes of the ap- 
 pointed time, so I had ample opportunity to 
 regain my composure as I sat in the cosy re- 
 [18] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 u^»»» i i i i i riimnini»uiiiiii;mi miimmiiMH!TM ininMT ,. ,T 1 
 
 ception room into which the maid had 
 ushered me. Behind the closed doors at 
 the further end of the apartment I could 
 hear a pupil playing a Beethoven sonata, 
 and a man's voice occasionally interrupting. 
 I adjusted my hat for the twentieth time, 
 smoothed my hair back over my ears, and 
 endeavored to appear outwardly as if I were 
 not at all in a flutter of expectation. Per- 
 haps my excitement was increased by the 
 remembrance of the impression I had made 
 at supper last night, when I casually men- 
 tioned that I had come to Munich to study 
 composition with Professor Thuille. Every 
 one became attentive immediately, and spoke 
 in the highest terms of his genius as a com- 
 poser. I felt not a little proud, and some- 
 what uneasy, at the thought of meeting 
 him. 
 
 "Richard Strauss was a pupil of his," 
 said Herr Doktor, calmly, as he helped 
 himself to a third piece of black bread. 
 Thereupon I really trembled. So now, in 
 order to quiet my nerves, I began to look 
 about me. 
 
 [19] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 t TT I IT H IIITII T T I TIII IHHI I I I X I XITII II IIIIIIIIXIIIIII I IIH TI I IT TIlIim trrr) 
 
 The first thing which caught my eye was 
 a landscape in vivid blues and greens, framed 
 in massive and evidently costly style. From 
 the inscription beneath I gathered that this 
 creation was the gift of a grateful chorus to 
 their " beloved director, Ludwig Thuille." 
 Over the bookcase hung several giant laurel 
 wreaths, their leaves now crisply yellowing. 
 To these were attached brilliant, silver-let- 
 tered ribbons which, as they floated flam- 
 boyantly against the subdued gray of the 
 wall-paper, proclaimed that these tokens, too, 
 were the gifts of appreciative souls. The 
 table near the door held a beautifully carved 
 loving-cup of silver also bearing an inscrip- 
 tion. Truly, gratitude must be the virtue 
 par excellence of Germany ! 
 
 If 1 had insensibly acquired an impression 
 of ostentation from all this array of tributes 
 — a common custom of every artist here, 
 they tell me — this vanished the moment 
 the door opened, for Professor Thuille and 
 anything like ostentation are as far from one 
 another as the poles. I was surprised to 
 see a man so young in appearance, for I had 
 [20] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 t l lll llllH II I i r i ll l l l l l l l i riMIIIIIIIIllllxil TT iiiiii i i t riiii i i i r trT H TtTt n 
 
 in some inexplicable way formed the idea 
 that he was much older. My second thought 
 was that I had never seen so charming and 
 cordial a smile. Of course he shook hands, 
 as all these people do, and bade me be 
 seated while he opened the letters. He is 
 short in stature, with sandy hair, and a long 
 mustache curled up at the ends in true im- 
 perial manner. His eyes, blue and kindly, 
 looked straight and sympathetically at me. 
 His face is deeply lined and shows tense 
 sensitiveness in every feature. The rather 
 strained expression vanishes, however, the 
 moment he smiles. As he turned over my 
 letters I noted that the fingers of his right 
 hand were stained a deep yellow; already 
 the faint aroma of cigarette smoke had 
 reached me. Intuitively I felt that these 
 two things indicated one of his characteris- 
 tics. I had happened on the Leitmotif, as it 
 were, of Thuille. 
 
 " Ach! dass ist sehr nctt!" (That is 
 
 very nice !) he said, laying down the letters. 
 
 "You know Herr Chadwick and I studied 
 
 in the same class in the old Conservatory. 
 
 [21 j 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 tTITyTITITITITT;iTITIIIIIIIIIiriIIIIIITIIiriiriIIXIIIIIIIIIIIZITIi;;lTTTTTTn 
 
 It is indeed delightful to hear from him 
 again. And now about yourself. I under- 
 stand that you want to study composition 
 with me, Fraulein," he continued, looking at 
 me with kindly scrutiny. 
 
 " If you will take me for a pupil, Herr 
 Professor," said I. 
 
 " I think we can arrange it," he said, 
 smiling, " although my time is almost 
 wholly occupied. Tell me what you have 
 already studied." 
 
 Whereupon we launched into details, 
 and he appointed next Wednesday as 
 the time for my first lesson. He does 
 not speak a word of English, and I found 
 him exceedingly difficult to understand, 
 but he assures me he is accustomed to 
 foreigners. 
 
 " If we don't make ourselves intelligible," 
 he ended, laughing, "we can try a few 
 French phrases, or even a bit of Latin, as a 
 pupil of mine did the other day." Instead 
 of my taking leave of him there, he went 
 out to the very door with me, which he 
 opened, bowing smilingly, and as it closed 
 [22] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rTtTTTItirTTTTTTIT H ITTtltT III TtHHIIIITTTrlllllllllllllllllllllllllirTTTTn 
 
 I felt wonderfully less like a stranger in a 
 strange land. 
 
 At the corner I took a tram back to 
 town. They are all alike, very short, and 
 painted the Bavarian blue. Think of a city 
 so patriotic that the street cars assume 
 the national hue! The conductor politely 
 touched his hat to me as I entered. I 
 thought he must have mistaken me for 
 some one else till I saw him salute each 
 passenger in the same courteous manner. 
 Where Brienner-strasse meets Odeons-Platz 
 I alighted. This is just by the Feldernhalle. 
 If you have seen pictures of the Loggia at 
 Florence you can tell how it looks, for it is 
 a copy of the Italian building. Here I was 
 
 to meet Friiulein L . She is a friend of 
 
 the Baroness and had offered to help me in 
 hiring a piano. That elocution course of 
 ours proved very valuable to me at this 
 stage, for had it not been for the telling and 
 effective gestures with winch I supple- 
 mented my German I might have had in 
 my study a far less acceptable instrument 
 than the excellent Bliithner which now 
 [»] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 stands here and for which I pay the ab- 
 surdly small sum of ten marks (two dollars 
 and a half) a month. 
 
 " By the bye," said I, as we were walking 
 through Theatiner-strasse, "did I make a 
 great many mistakes in my note to you?" 
 
 I meant this to sound naively humble, 
 but in reality I had spent a half-hour on the 
 composition of those ten lines and I was 
 rather proud of the result. 
 
 "Oh, no," she replied, smiling, "you 
 merely asked me to meet you on top of the 
 Feldernhalle. 1 was wondering," she added, 
 mischievously, glancing as we passed at the 
 building's imposing height, "just how I 
 could get up there." 
 
 For several blocks 1 was silent, medita- 
 ting on the sad results of " pride, rank pride 
 and haughtiness of soul," although I fully 
 appreciated her effort at a joke. Such pleas- 
 antries are almost unheard of in German 
 girls, and whenever they do say anything 
 facetious they look very much frightened, 
 as though at a loss whether to apologize at 
 once or explain how it came to happen. I 
 [24] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 eillllllllilllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllUIIIIIIlrilllllTTT TTTTTTT: 
 
 must send you one of the comic papers. 
 They considerately print the point of a joke 
 in italics. One has at least the satisfaction 
 of knowing when to laugh, a virtue not to 
 be despised when one considers the subtle- 
 ties of modern wit, so called. 
 
 " This is where I buy my music," said 
 
 Fraulein L , stopping before a small 
 
 store, " and if it pleases you I will introduce 
 you here." 
 
 Accordingly we went in, and after meet- 
 ing the proprietor I was initiated into the 
 mysteries of that very important factor in a 
 student's life, an abonnement. One pays 
 a small sum for the privilege of taking out 
 music from a circulating library for a defi- 
 nite length of time. The arrangement im- 
 pressed me at once as advantageous, and 1 
 inquired as to the kinds of music the cata- 
 logue contained. " Why, songs, operas, 
 overtures, anything you care for," said the 
 proprietor, in a patronizing tone. 
 
 " Then I can get orchestral scores," I said. 
 
 " Orchestral scores ? " he cried, starting 
 back as though I had asked him to pluck the 
 [25] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 moon out of the sky. " My dear young lady, 
 what can you possibly want of orchestral 
 scores ? " We should call this impudence 
 in America, but I really do not think he in- 
 tended it as such. He had simply not come 
 much in contact with the modern Ameri- 
 can girl. After explanation on both sides, 
 1 found, however, that it would be better 
 for me to obtain scores from the Conserva- 
 tory, which I intend to enter, and where, I 
 learn, all the standard scores are on hand. 
 
 You would hardly believe me if I should 
 tell you how many bareheaded, blue- 
 aproned girls we met carrying beer through 
 the streets during our walk home. But my 
 surprise at the sight was lost in greater 
 amazement at beholding the number of 
 steins they are able to carry at one time. 
 Not two or three, my dear, but six, yes, 
 even ten, in one hand. It is an art in itself. 
 If one is careless and holds the handful a 
 quarter of an inch from perpendicular, the 
 beer comes oozing out at the top and tric- 
 kles on the sidewalk. This disturbs no one 
 in the least. As we passed the droschky 
 [«] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 fTTTTTTttTtTIIII Il IIII IIIIII I II I IIIiril l l lllll lllllll lll l lll l llllllllllll i m 
 
 stand on Max-Joseph-Platz about eleven 
 o'clock, there stood all the cabbies lounging 
 against their carnages or ranged along the 
 curbstones, leisurely drinking great steins of 
 frothy beer which one of these blue-aproned 
 girls had just brought. When they finished 
 they set their empty mugs on the window 
 ledges of the building. Imagine a dozen of 
 our hackmen draining steins on Brimstone 
 Corner and then leaving them in a row on 
 the steps of Park Street Church ! 
 
 How can I write you about the evening 
 or rather afternoon and evening which fol- 
 lowed ? When I tell you that it was my 
 first hearing of " Tristan and Isolde " in the 
 wonderful new Prince Regent Theatre, are 
 you surprised that I hesitate ? I will let you 
 read for yourself in the infallible lied Book 
 of the unique construction of the house 
 which is used for the reproduction of 
 Wagner's operas alone, of the peculiar stage, 
 and of that stroke of genius, the concealed 
 orchestra. If I attempted any explanations 
 I should fail lamentably, for all else is for- 
 
 r*r] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rTTTtTtT ir TTTTtl Hiy TTtttnllIHItlllllTTIIIiriliniTIIIIIII IIIIIIIIII TTXTTT^ 
 
 gotten in the memory of that glorious music. 
 The crowd of magnificently dressed people 
 promenading between the acts through res- 
 taurant, garden, and corridors, the strange 
 types of musicians from every quarter of 
 the globe, the trumpet calls to summon us 
 back to our places — all are now a confused 
 medley of impressions. I only see Knote, 
 as Tristan, quaffing the fatal draught, and 
 Ternina, a regal Isolde, waving her white 
 scarf in the mysterious moonlight of that 
 most alluring of gardens. 
 
 Who was it said that in Tristan the 
 " thrills relieve one another in squads " ? It 
 seems to me there is no respite : one is swept 
 along and borne aloft uninterruptedly by 
 the power of the music — music magical in 
 its chromatic beauty, tremendous in its in- 
 tensity. Breathless, at the final fall of the 
 curtain, I hardly realized my physical ex- 
 haustion till we reached home. The strain 
 in endeavoring to follow the multi-woven 
 orchestration, as well as the action, had not 
 been a light one. 
 
 During one of the pauses I caught sight 
 [28] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 tuiiii 
 
 tTITi n i t TITIT XIIII TIIIIIIIITTTIIIIIIIIIIIIIIItlTIXIXIIIIIUlrllTTTTl 
 
 of a slender, rather pale young man elbow- 
 ing his way through the crowd. I turned 
 to look at him, for his face struck me as 
 strangely familiar. Who do you think it 
 was ? Siegfried Wagner ! Fancy what 
 his feelings must be to see all this homage 
 paid to his father's genius. 
 
 Sunday. 
 
 As a result of my intoxication last night 
 — if one may so call it — I overslept this 
 morning and was in danger of being late to 
 church. In fact, the people were already 
 on their knees when we entered the little 
 chapel which is the home of American 
 church life here. The name chapel is only 
 applied out of compliment, for it is really a 
 large room with improvised altar at one end, 
 a piano in the corner, and rows of chairs for 
 pews. It seemed, however, as fine as a 
 cathedral to us, and how beautiful it sounded 
 to hear those familiar old prayers again in 
 our mother tongue, while everywhere with- 
 out these walls was the babble of a foreign 
 language. 
 
 [29] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rTtTtTTTtTTT»tII Hir TTTttT IHT TTttIIIIHtHTTIIIIITIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIirrTTyn 
 
 At the close of the service, as the rector 
 was reading that most impressive of prayers, 
 the prayer for those at sea, and we were fol- 
 lowing with more than usual devoutness, for 
 the dangers and perils of the great deep 
 were still very real to us, bang ! the blare of 
 trumpet, thud of drum, and thunder of 
 trombone burst on the stillness, and the 
 sound of a lively march, the sort to make 
 one's feet tingle, came ever louder and 
 louder to our ears. I expected to see 
 the rectors face change and to hear him 
 hurriedly close, but no, his voice kept on 
 peacefully, unconcernedly, and the people 
 knelt absorbed as though the thought of 
 worldly things was far removed. I must 
 confess I found it hard to keep my mind 
 fastened on the spiritual ; it was my first 
 experience of hearing anything from the 
 ritual accompanied by Sousa music, and 
 the irreverence shocked me. 
 
 I was eager to inquire about the music, 
 
 but after the service, as we reached the end 
 
 of the aisle, the rector came forward with 
 
 outstretched hand. The consul, to whom 
 
 [30] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 i ii!»i! i; ;!iiii i Ti ii iim iimTii i i i i t ;t itii i n iii i ii m»iiimmmiin T T 
 
 we had letters, had told him of the two new 
 strangers in the colony, and his welcome was 
 most cordial. 
 
 " I want you both to come to tea at the 
 Russicher Hof to-morrow, if you will par- 
 don the unconventionally of my invitation," 
 said his wife, a bustling little woman in black. 
 " There will be several music students on 
 hand and it may be pleasant for you to meet 
 one another." We thanked her heartily. 
 One appreciates these things so much when 
 away from home. 
 
 The music had now begun again, this time 
 abandoning the martial for the romantic, 
 and giving out the opening strains of Von 
 Weber s overture to Der Freisch'ut::. 
 
 "It's more than a brass band," said I, 
 urging MuttcrcJtcu along. " There are 
 clarinets and flutes. Do lets hurry." 
 
 We turned down the little archway which 
 led from the chapel door to the main street, 
 and voilaf there was a picture well worth 
 seeing. Have I explained that in front of 
 the Feldernhalle is a triangular open space ? 
 This now was thronged with a gayly attired 
 [31] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rTtTtTTT T IT TTTtfll illTTTITtltHITTITIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIII HHm iXII H in 
 
 crowd, who were promenading up and down 
 or chatting in small groups, while from the 
 balcony of the Feldernhalle itself came the 
 sound of inspiring music played by the great 
 military band of the city. 
 
 One caught the irresistible charm of color 
 enhanced by sunshine. The scarlet uni- 
 forms of the officers who were everywhere, 
 the bright caps of the students, the gleam- 
 ing helmets of the officials set off against 
 the dark background of the Alte Residenz 
 lent an artistic touch to a scene already 
 brilliant. : 
 
 " Is n't it splendid ? " cried I, excitedly, as 
 we moved along with the laughing throng. 
 "Just see, 3£uttcrchen, there's an officer 
 kissing that lady's hand. It 's like a scene 
 from a play." 
 
 "It's all a rather strange sight on Sun- 
 day," replied Mutterchen, smiling gently. 
 
 I suddenly remembered my Puritan an- 
 cestors and felt I ought to shut my ears to 
 the fascinating lilt of the " Merry Wives of 
 Windsor" overture. 
 
 "I don't believe Cotton Mather himself 
 [32] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 HIIIIIIIIIIITII I TrillH r iTtllllll T I IIII I I I T I I I TTTIITTTTTTTT lIIIIIH ITTTTTTTTI 
 
 would call these people wicked," I said, 
 with a glance at the happy crowd about me. 
 
 Just then the student from our 'pension 
 passed us with a low bow. There were a 
 number of young men with him, all wearing 
 round caps of black and purple. (The col- 
 ors indicate the corps or club to which they 
 belong.) Do you know that the men bow 
 first in this country ? To the masculine sex 
 is allotted the right to accept or reject an 
 acquaintance. Is n't that truly German ? 
 
 We were glad that Herr Martens had 
 condescended to recognize us, for it gave us 
 a pleasant sensation to realize we were not 
 utterly unacquainted in that great throng of 
 people. Not two minutes later, who should 
 swoop down upon us but Frau von Wald- 
 fel. Cecilia mia, don't let me hear of your 
 banishing " swoop " to the category of slang. 
 I am much attached to that invaluable 
 word. Have you ever seen a gull circling 
 with wide-spread wings above a fish in the 
 water beneath, and then suddenly dart 
 down and bear away his prey ? When cer- 
 tain people accost me this picture invariably 
 3 [33] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 comes to my mind. - Frau von Waldfel 
 swoops down and captures one like the gull, 
 while I play the part of the unfortunate fish. 
 
 " So you are enjoying the Parada, are 
 you ? " she began. She had once spent a 
 season in London, and so caught the 
 English habit of making her remarks inter- 
 rogative. " We always have this music 
 every Sunday. I 've been doing a little 
 shopping, you see, on my way home from 
 church." (She pointed to a number of 
 small packages under her arm.) " I 've or- 
 dered some cakes sent up to the pension. 
 Did you know the tarts here are not nearly 
 so good as those in Berlin ? Dear me, I 
 have quite forgotten whether you said you 
 had been there or not. Your daughter is 
 such a quiet girl," she added to Mutter chen, 
 " I never can draw her out." 
 
 Miltterchen gave an involuntary gasp at 
 this last remark. 
 
 " Are all the stores open Sunday ? " I 
 said, endeavoring to show I could make 
 conversation. All I needed was an oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 [34] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 HXIl I I I TITTI T I T IIITIII I II I IIIIIIIIi;i I IIIII I IITIHI i;i IIITIi;miII l i i H TTn 
 
 " Of course ! Why not ? " she answered, 
 as we turned our steps towards Maximilian- 
 Platz. " They close at one o' clock ; on 
 other days at half-past seven in the evening. 
 I 'm a regular guide-book, much more prac- 
 tical than that red one I see you carry. 
 Speaking of Berlin tarts, I want to tell you 
 
 that I never ate " and so on — can't 
 
 you hear her ? — till we reached the door. 
 
 We spent a quiet afternoon reading and 
 writing letters. After supper the Baroness 
 invited us to come into the salon. " I 
 always try to make Sunday evening a pleas- 
 ant time," she said. What was our surprise 
 on entering to see them all seated around 
 a table playing cards. They seemed much 
 disappointed that we did not join them. 
 
 If this letter of mine is posted to-night, it 
 will catch the New York mail steamer, so 
 I shall send it out now by Georg, the man- 
 servant of the house. Auf Wicdcrschcn, 
 and don't forget I am hungry for news of 
 everything at home. 
 
 [35 
 
IimTITIIITimillTIITIIIITIIITiriTTIITITTTTTItTITTIIITIIITITTTT IT I IIII] 
 
ri:i:i:innriiiiii:i i iiiiriiiim:ii i i ii ir i i i r i i i iiniiTiiiiiiii linin g 
 
 iiiixixxiiiiiiiniiiiiirrmzriirrrnirmTiTrrrmTiiriiiixixxx^! 
 
 Liliiiiiii 
 
 October A. 
 Top o the morning, Cecy dear ! 
 
 ^^UCH A GLORIOUS, ALLE- 
 
 ^^ gro vivace day ! The sun is shining, 
 A^/ the air is crisp and cool, and the 
 sauciest of breezes is coquetting with the 
 tree-tops in the Platz. It gets into one's 
 blood, a morning like this, and the wildest 
 dreams seem possible of fulfilment. I came 
 home from my lesson humming the theme 
 of the scherzo of Beethoven's eighth sym- 
 phony. It seemed to fit the buoyancy of 
 my mood as nothing else could. 
 
 I can see you smile now and hear you 
 say, " It 's quite evident she is happy in her 
 new surroundings." Exactly so, my dear, 
 and there are so many delightful things to 
 tell you about that I don't know where to 
 begin. However, the Conservatory forms 
 one of the most vital elements of my new 
 life here, so I '11 start by telling you of my 
 first visit there. 
 
 Be it known, then, that the Royal Con- 
 servatory of Munich, to give it its full title, 
 I 89 1 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 opened the eighteenth, and promptly at nine 
 o'clock I made my way thither. What a 
 rambling old building it is, and how re- 
 plete with association ! So many musicians 
 have studied here at some time or other, 
 although Rheinberger and many of the 
 teachers who have made it famous are now 
 memories of the past. With a certain in- 
 definable thrill I realized I was actually 
 within these walls. 
 
 Instead of the Herein! which I expected 
 to hear in response to my knock on the 
 door of the director's room, Stavenhagen 
 himself opened the door. I wonder if you 
 heard him play when he was in Amer- 
 ica. He's a handsome man, not much 
 above thirty, with blue eyes, firm chin, 
 straight nose, and curly blond hair and 
 mustache. 
 
 In fact, he has all the delightful character- 
 istics of a German, and none of the unlovely 
 ones. Besides this, he is tall, a rarity in 
 men of his nation. 
 
 " Eine Amerikanerin / " he said pleasantly, 
 pushing a chair forward. " I speak a lee-tle 
 [40] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 t IT H TTTItttTTtTIIT T TTTTTIHIIIITIITI?IITIIIIIIIIIIIIIir;iIIIIIIIIIIISrTTTTn 
 
 English, but," he went on in German, 
 " perhaps we will make more progress if I 
 stick to my mother tongue." 
 
 " 1 speak a very little German," said I, smil- 
 ing, not feeling in the least afraid of him, 
 and forthwith explained my situation and 
 what I wished to do at the school. A 
 little man, whose face, beard, and hair all 
 seemed the same reddish color, was looking 
 over a pile of letters in the corner of the 
 room. He now glanced up at me curiously 
 as I began my inquiries about the Partitur 
 Lesen (score reading) class of which I had 
 read in the catalogue. 
 
 You know that five years ago women 
 were not allowed to study counterpoint at 
 the Conservatory. In fact, anything more 
 advanced than elementary harmony was de- 
 barred. The ability of the feminine intellect 
 to comprehend the intricacies of a stretto, or 
 cope with double counterpoint in the tenth, if 
 not openly denied, was severely questioned. 
 This carefully nourished conservatism has 
 yielded considerably. The counterpoint 
 class is now open to women, although as yet 
 [ U] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 comparatively few avail themselves of the 
 opportunity. Formerly, too, all the teachers 
 in the Conservatory were men, but one finds 
 to-day two women enrolled as professors 
 among the forty on the list. 
 
 " I should like to enter the Pa?~titur Lesen 
 class," said I, innocently, not then having 
 learned all this. 
 
 Stavenhagen looked at the little man. 
 The little man looked back at Stavenhagen. 
 If I had thrown a bombshell they could not 
 have appeared more startled. The little 
 man at once abandoned his letters and stood 
 staring, a few feet in front of me. 
 
 " There have never been any women in 
 the class. I am right, am I not, Herr Sek- 
 retariat ? " said Stavenhagen. 
 
 "You are right, Herr Director" responded 
 the other. He held his hands behind him 
 and gazed at me as one might at a curious 
 species of animal. I felt I ought to be 
 tagged, like those poor creatures in the Zoo, 
 " Rare. From North America." 
 
 " Is the class full, Herr Sekretariat ? 
 inquired Stavenhagen. 
 [42] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 " About thirty men have registered, Herr 
 Direktor" solemnly answered the secretary. 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 "Have you ever played string quarters 
 from score, Fraulein ? " inquired the director. 
 
 " Yes, Herr Direktor" said I, with that 
 supreme calmness which comes at times 
 when one is inwardly much disturbed. 
 Again there was a pause. Even I began to be 
 impressed by the solemnity of the occasion. 
 
 " Of course," said the director, " because a 
 Fraulein never has joined the class is no 
 reason why a Fraulein never can." 
 
 "Not at all," said the secretary. The 
 gravity of his expression was worthy a 
 crisis in the affairs of state. 
 
 The two men walked to the other side 
 of the room, and while they conversed in 
 whispers I stood gazing out of the window 
 at the equestrian statue in the Platz, unable 
 to hide the smile at the corners of my 
 mouth. Although conscious of my many 
 peculiarities, I had never before considered 
 myself an abnormal being, and to be so re- 
 garded struck me as amusing. 
 [43] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 It seemed to take them a long time to 
 come to a decision. When my impatience 
 had subsided to a state of hopelessness, 
 Stavenhagen came forward. 
 
 " Your request is unusual, Fraulein," he 
 began, " but — but — well, you may come 
 on Friday at three o'clock." 
 
 With a sigh of relief I bowed myself out 
 in approved German fashion, feeling as 
 might the immortal Napoleon after a hard- 
 won victory. 
 
 The first Kaim-Saal concert of the season 
 came in the evening. The Kaim-Saal is a 
 splendid hall with a large organ, where most 
 of the concerts are held. There was a fine 
 program including Beethoven's first sym- 
 phony. I was greatly interested to see 
 Weingartner conduct. He looked very 
 young as he stepped to the platform. He 
 is slight and dark, with brown, clever eyes. 
 I must confess that at first I did not like his 
 conducting at all. It seemed to me extreme 
 and even sensational. However, as I became 
 accustomed to his extravagant methods, the 
 earnestness and power of the man impressed 
 [44] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rilTTTTTITTI III T II TIITITITHITIITTTTI T ITIIIIIIIIITITIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTtTTTTTTTl 
 
 me more and more. When it came to the 
 Beethoven number he directed without 
 score. He fairly swept the orchestra along, 
 and his every gesture was pregnant with 
 meaning. 1 could not help thinking of 
 Gerickes straight immovable figure as I saw 
 Weingartner wave wildly to right and left, 
 rise on tiptoe, sway forward, and now, by 
 one tense, quick movement of his stick, 
 bring his men to a grand climax. Some- 
 times he even let his beat cease entirely and 
 his arm drop to his side, while the orchestra 
 seemed to carry itself along like a wheel 
 which continues revolving after the force 
 which propelled it has stopped. 
 
 My enthusiasm caught fire from his, and 
 at the close of the concert I was cheering as 
 wildly as the rest of the audience. I can't 
 tell you how many times he came forward 
 to bow his thanks amid the cries of " Bravo ! 
 Bravo ! " He seemed to enjoy it all hugely 
 and kept smiling down on us. When he 
 does that his face loses every bit of dignity 
 and he looks like nothing so much as a 
 roguish boy. 
 
 [46] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 fT^TTTTTTTTTtITItTTTITITIIIT»IIIIIIIIIIIIIIiriIIIIIITIIIIITIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTn 
 
 On our way down to the Garderobe, 
 where every one checks one's things for the 
 fee of twenty pfennigs (five cents), we met 
 
 Mr. B . He is a harmless young curate 
 
 from the north of England ; one of those 
 men who have soft, gentle voices, Van Dyke 
 beards, and always sit on the edge of a chair. 
 He had been to the church tea that after- 
 noon, and shown a praiseworthy desire to 
 make himself agreeable. 
 
 " Ah, good evening," he said, " was it not 
 a beautiful concert ? And so uplifting ! I 
 see you have the score to — to " 
 
 " The Beethoven symphony," I replied. 
 
 " Oh, yes. Beethoven has indeed caught 
 the spiritual note, don't you think so ? It 
 seems to me he is at his best in that won- 
 derful adagio vivace movement." 
 
 I must not forget to tell you that we have 
 two new arrivals at the pension, namely, the 
 Poet and his wife. I have n't the slightest 
 idea what their name is except that it is very 
 long and very unpronounceable. She is a 
 dear little placid-faced woman of middle 
 age, and he looks like one of Raphael's 
 [46] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 [IimrinilllllllllllllMIIMfTTTT TTTTTTn 
 
 cherubs in twentieth century clothes. In 
 spite of his infantile expression, however, I 
 hear he has quite a reputation among men 
 of letters. 
 
 A Fraulein Hartmann is expected to- 
 morrow, and that will complete our house- 
 hold for the winter. She is the niece of 
 Frau von Waldfel, who declares they greatly 
 resemble each other. I can just imagine her : 
 younger but with the same stout figure, 
 rasping voice, and beady eyes ! I do hope 
 she won't be put next me at table. 
 
 To-day, while we were waiting in the 
 salon for dinner to be announced, I 
 chanced to play a few bars from a piece 
 by MacDowell. 
 
 " Is that by your national composer, 
 Sousa ? " inquired Herr Doktor. ' 
 
 I hastily informed him that it was not. 
 
 " Why ! I did n't know you had any other 
 composers of importance," he remarked, with 
 interest. 
 
 It is a sad but true fact that American 
 music has, as yet, won no footing in 
 Germany. 
 
 [47] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 tll HII T IT TTITIIIIITTIIIIIIIIZtHIIIIIIIIIII^IXIIIXItlllTITIIlIXIHIIItHITn 
 
 Wednesday. 
 
 This afternoon I had my first lesson with 
 Thuille. I arrived just as the clock was 
 striking two, and was shown at once into 
 a large room, which in its furnishings 
 and harmony of color betrays the artistic 
 nature of its owner. An atmosphere of 
 cigarette smoke hung about everything, and 
 through the floating clouds by the win- 
 dows I discerned Thuille just taking a 
 final puff, tossing his cigarette away and 
 coming to meet me with outstretched 
 hand. 
 
 "Ach! Ghiten Tag, Fraulein!" he said, 
 with a genial smile which put me instantly 
 at my ease. Then he pulled forward a chair 
 beside his own at the desk and bade me be 
 seated. As I took my place a big white 
 and brown hunting dog crawled out from 
 the corner. 
 
 " This is my greatest pet," explained the 
 
 professor, caressing the dog, who looked up 
 
 with devoted eyes at his master's face. " I 
 
 call him Tasso. Tasso, let me introduce 
 
 [48] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 Lmxi m iiixii :ii» i:i » ii i i riiiiiriiiiiiiiiiii»iTiiiiiin»t> Liiin D 
 
 you to a young American lady ! Make a 
 bow and then lie down." 
 
 Tasso obeyed in the cleverest fashion, 
 Thuille watching him with pride. This 
 introduction over, he turned to begin the 
 lesson. 
 
 I had brought, as he requested, all the 
 past work which I had with me, and he 
 spent the entire hour in looking it over, 
 asking questions and arranging a plan of 
 study. I told him that I wanted that firm 
 foundation which German thoroughness 
 gives one, and he suggested that I begin by 
 a review commencing with four-part choral 
 writing, then simple counterpoint, and so on. 
 This will form what I call the technical part 
 of my study, and besides this I am to do a 
 certain amount of free work and orchestra- 
 tion. Doesn't it sound interesting? I 
 hurried home in a fever of impatience to 
 begin the lesson he has given me for Satur- 
 day, only to find callers in the salon. They 
 proved to be two New York girls, also music 
 students. They are studying piano with 
 Frau Langenhan-Hirzel, who is herself a 
 
 4 [49] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 cTii nnii ii niiiim tii iiiiii ii iiiiiixiii r iiiiiin i:i n ;iii i i ixi ii:iiixixm 
 
 pupil of Lescheticsky. Both are intensely 
 enthusiastic over their work, and practise 
 from five to six hours a day. After our 
 
 coffee, Miss B offered to show me where 
 
 her studio was, so, leaving her friend, who 
 had a lesson, we walked down the Platz and 
 up seven and ninety stairs to a tiny room 
 
 under the eaves. It seems that Miss B 
 
 is not allowed to practise in the 'pension 
 where she lives, owing to the fact that three 
 other students are singing, playing, or violin- 
 scraping all day long, and the Frau landlady 
 feared that another musician would banish 
 utterly her supply of winter boarders. 
 
 Hence Miss B was forced to seek a 
 
 place to practise outside, and finally found 
 a secluded room on the top floor of an 
 old house at the very end of the Platz. 
 In the subduing atmosphere of an under- 
 taker's family she has made her musical 
 home. The room is very small. One 
 corner of the ceiling has caved in and 
 threatens momentarily to fall. The only 
 furniture is a cracked mirror, two rickety 
 chairs, and a fine grand piano, which 
 [50] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 r rmTT T IIII II III IIIIIII i:i I I TITITl ll l lTl llli:i iT i;ii;i; i riii; i i ir ii i i TiTTT-n 
 
 looks laughably out of place in these 
 surroundings. 
 
 " There 's only one thing that bothers 
 me," she said, running over a bit of Chopin. 
 "Just mark the effect of a forte" She 
 played a crashing chord, and presto ! the 
 tiny, diamond panes of the windows rattled 
 sharply in echo. Again a sforzando chord 
 rang out, again came the jarring response. 
 
 "Isn't it awful?" she sighed. "My 
 nerves are getting worn to shreds ! " 
 
 Believe me, people at home don't know 
 one half the trials of Munich music stu- 
 dents. 
 
 October 20, 10.30 P. M. 
 
 To-night we made our first visit to the 
 Hof-Theatre, which is the main opera house 
 of the city, and heard Humperdinck's 
 Hansel unci Grctel I like the house 
 immensely, its five balconies in white and 
 gold are so impressive. The curtain is old 
 rose in color, and on it the letter L is 
 inscribed at intervals — for the unfortunate 
 king, you know. What do you think I 
 [51] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rTTTTTTT T TlTlrttiriltlllllllXIIIIIXISIIITIIIXIIIIIIIIIIIIITIIIIIIXIIIIIIIlITT 
 
 paid for my seat? Only fifty-five cents — 
 and sat, too, in the orchestra. At the Con- 
 servatory last week I received an oblong bit 
 of paper, a sort of certificate, which states 
 that I am pursuing a course of musical 
 study here. On presenting this at the box 
 office 1 can get a seat in the rear of the par- 
 quet (which corresponds to our orchestra) for 
 just half price. The seats do not extend 
 under the balcony, so they are really very 
 desirable. The extra five cents is for Vorver- 
 kauft, which means a fee for buying tickets 
 in advance. 
 
 The opera itself is the most charming 
 thing of its kind I have ever heard. The 
 story is a fairy-tale concerning the delight- 
 ful adventures of two children. Bosetti, 
 a stout little German in spite of the Italian 
 ring to her name, played Gretel and Friiulein 
 Tordeck took the part of Hansel. Both 
 caught the spirit of the piece and sang and 
 acted excellently. The music is fascinat- 
 ing in the extreme, and some of it — the 
 prayer of the two mites in the wood, for 
 example, which brought the tears to my 
 [52] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rniiiiiiriiHTti!imimiiiriii;imimimiimiTiimtMiiimii;Tntr;i 
 
 eyes — very beautiful. There is no inter- 
 ruption. The music continues even during 
 the pauses between the three so-called pic- 
 tures of the opera. At the beginning of the 
 second picture, which is laid in a wood, 
 Gretel sings the loveliest solo, with the 
 strings pizzicato and a flute obligato. Then 
 there is a wonderful scene showing a flight 
 of golden stairs thronged with white-robed 
 angels who go up and down, while the 
 children lie sleeping beneath a tree. If all 
 the operas are produced as finely as this one 
 I shall certainly think Germany the heaven 
 of composers. 
 
 Yesterday Friiulein Hartmann, Frau von 
 Waldfel's niece, arrived and proved a most 
 agreeable surprise. Far from being what I 
 had pictured, she is the prettiest creature 
 imaginable, slight, with blue eyes, rosy 
 cheeks, two fascinating dimples which come 
 and go as she talks, and a bewildering pro- 
 fusion of light, fluffy hair which stubbornly 
 refuses to remain in order, but curls about 
 her head like a halo. Her aunt is immensely 
 proud of her, although she treats her like a 
 [53] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 r > nM» ii i»iiiim»n i niTtMimirT i iTmiiimniiii i mmmmmii in 
 
 child. The chief cause of her pride seems 
 to be that her niece is engaged — verlobt, as 
 they say — to a German officer. You know 
 it is considered the thing to marry into the 
 army here, for it gives a woman at once 
 the best social position, consequently all the 
 young lieutenants are run after by diplo- 
 matic mammas and ambitious daughters, 
 until I should think they would want to cry 
 " Hold ! Enough ! " I believe the neces- 
 sary dowry which the girl's parents pay over 
 on the wedding day is twelve thousand 
 marks, unless the bridegroom can show that 
 he has that amount of money. It is, how- 
 ever, proverbial that the chief possession of 
 a lieutenant are his unpaid bills, hence it 
 seldom occurs that he himself can afford to 
 marry at his own free will. 
 
 Fraulein Hartmann, while essentially 
 German in type, has an unusually sweet 
 expression characterized by a curious little 
 droop at the corners of her mouth which 
 puzzles me a bit. I am sure it is not the 
 result of a spoiled nature, for her patience 
 with her aunt's querulousness belies that, 
 [54] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 but it seems rather the expression which we 
 associate with unhappiness or pain. At any 
 rate she is decidedly the most interesting 
 person in the pension, and I hope to know 
 her better. 
 
 Six o'clock. 
 The day is dying royally, and as I look 
 out across the now brown and barren tree- 
 tops of the Platz, I see a sky which is one 
 blaze of glory. There is always music in 
 the clouds. Have you never heard the 
 tender, inspiring melody in soft, fleecy puffs 
 as they float in a sea of azure — or caught 
 the melancholy strains of cello and oboe in 
 lowering gray masses against a background 
 darker still? On an afternoon like this, 
 surely you have thrilled in response to the 
 piercing cry of trumpets, horns, and trom- 
 bones, in the riotous masses of scarlet, violet, 
 and gold which flood the heaven ? It does 
 not last long, this intoxicating draught of 
 color and melody, for, as I watch, the clouds 
 dissolve with the resolution of a chord. I 
 can hear the diminuendo rallentando of the 
 [ 55 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 CTTTITITITTTTTIt H irTTITtT HIH I IHITIIITTT I I I II II I III I IIIIIII II IIIIXinX Xir: 
 
 orchestra as the gold dulls, the scarlet fades 
 to rose, the rose to pink. It hovers — this 
 last, long streak — in one delicate flush 
 against the violet sky, while the strings 
 sustain pianissimo the tonic harmony. Then 
 it suddenly dies, and the music with it. 
 The day is done. 
 
 [56] 
 
ITTTTTi;irTTITTTIT Hi;iIl;iI ITII I TI TITTTTI I IiriIIIIIIIII I I I I IIlIi rilrri:ri 
 
 III 
 
 rTTTtiTTiTT ni Titi ii TiriiiniiTiiiiuriiiixriiirniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriniiix; 
 
iiiitiiiiiiiiririininni;iiii;iiniittiTiiiiTitii-»iirnTiTT i iin tt n rrrTT 
 
 mmimimimniiimmiiirnHminiimiiiiimiiniiiiT niir i m 
 
 Munich, November 8. 
 
 J^EHOLD ME RECOVERING 
 
 r^^this morning from the effects of my 
 -^ — J first participation in German frivol- 
 ity. The occasion was the Namens-Tag 
 (name day) of the Baroness. 
 
 " You see to-day is mother's saint's day, 
 the one for whom she was named," explained 
 Karl, not very clearly, at dinner. 
 
 " Is it the custom to celebrate this instead 
 of the birthday ? " I inquired. 
 
 Karl looked at me with an expression of 
 pity at my ignorance. 
 
 " We always have a fete on both days," 
 he said, " with extra wine and a lot of grand 
 things to eat." 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said the Baroness, beaming 
 from her end of the table. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," echoed the Baron, beaming 
 back on her and radiating his delight along 
 the line of 'pensionnaires each side. The 
 eyes of Herr Doktor twinkled as he looked 
 across at me. I met his glance with a half 
 [59] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rTI H TITI T tTITITTIIfTTIIItlTIIIIimriTirirlllllllllllllTItTIIIIIITITTTTTTTTl 
 
 smile. Neither of us meant to be unkind. 
 France and America were merely united in 
 their appreciation of the humorous. Frau 
 von Waldfel raised her eyebrows disagreea- 
 bly, and looked as though about to start a 
 discussion. To mention food in the presence 
 of that woman is like brandishing a red flag 
 before a bull. Luckily Herr Doktor saw 
 the signs of approaching storm, and with 
 his usual diplomacy turned the trend of 
 conversation, so that an argument was 
 averted for this meal at least. 
 
 Is there anything more pitiable than a 
 number of guests, hitherto unknown to one 
 another, endeavoring to appear at ease as 
 they wait the summons to dinner? We 
 had thought to avoid this situation by not 
 appearing till half after seven that evening, 
 the hour set for the supper party. Imagine, 
 then, our feelings, when fifteen minutes, a 
 half hour, three quarters dragged by, and 
 no vestige of life from the dining-room ! 
 Everything moves slowly in Germany, and 
 the culinary department is no exception. 
 The Baroness never seemed so much like a 
 [60] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 fTIITTT» t t»riII»HTITTITIIIIUITTTTTTIiriIIIIIIIIIiriIIIIIIIIIIIIIITir»tTTITl 
 
 beneficent angel as when she opened the 
 dining-room door and invited us to the 
 table. And now a light shone through 
 the clouds, for the stupid Count with whom 
 I had been struggling to converse was 
 whisked away to the other end of the 
 table, and Lieutenant Linder, a young man 
 of about seven and twenty, in the dark 
 blue and scarlet uniform of Bavaria, took 
 the place on my left. 
 
 Oh, these officers ! They simply own 
 Munich. When they stride along the street, 
 the entire sidewalk is their undisputed pos- 
 session. How their swords clank, how 
 faultlessly their jackets fit, how their heaven- 
 ward-pointing mustaches curl ! A few of 
 them are really handsome, but if not, it 
 doesn't matter in the slightest. The re- 
 splendency of their uniforms would make 
 one forgive almost anything. When I 
 became accustomed to the atmosphere 
 of conceit in which Lieutenant Linder 
 was enveloped, I found him distinctly 
 entertaining, and, better yet, he had a 
 sense of humor. What with his helping 
 [61] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 me with my German, and my giving him 
 a lesson in English, we managed to get on 
 famously. 
 
 The table was profusely decorated with 
 flowers, and there was a great deal to eat 
 and more to drink. The idea in cooking 
 seems to be to produce a color effect. For 
 example, we had as one course well-browned 
 sausage surrounded by a mass of bright red 
 carrots. Next came the eternal veal, reposing 
 in a vivid green sea of spinach. Do your 
 aesthetic sensibilities shrink at these materi- 
 alistic descriptions? Remember I am in 
 a materialistic land, amid a materialistic 
 people. Truly the problem which contin- 
 ually confronts me is : how can a people 
 who seem so lethargic, and who make no 
 disguise of their love for the product of the 
 soil and the grape, produce such marvellous, 
 almost superhuman results in the fields of 
 music and philosophy ? 
 
 I might have meditated at some length on 
 this question during the Namens-Tag sup- 
 per, had not the Lieutenant kept up a rapid 
 conversation, for we were at the table until 
 [62] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 half-past eleven. Not that we were eating 
 all the time, but the waits between the 
 courses were very long, and in the middle of 
 the dinner we had a pause of twenty min- 
 utes — like an intermission at an assembly 
 — when the Poet, with marked nervousness, 
 read some original verses "To the Baroness 
 on her Name-Day. " The poor woman was 
 even more embarrassed than he, and so 
 moved, when at the close we all rose to 
 drink her health, that two large tears ran 
 down her fat cheeks. 
 
 " Hoch soil sic lebenf" cried Herr Doktor, 
 clinking his glass to mine. Every one had 
 to touch his glass to every one else's or it 
 was " no fair," and of course we all walked 
 up to the Baroness and touched hers. 
 
 When the coffee had at last been served, 
 we went into the salon carrying away with 
 us a glass of Bowie, or punch, which is 
 much milder than anything called by that 
 name in America. In came a round little 
 man who took his place at the piano, and 
 dancing began. 
 
 Lieutenant Linder, with an extremely 
 [63] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 ;;i;iii nii i i T iTiiriiiiiiiiiiiia :iiiziiiiiiiiiiiii nn iii:i i:iii:iiii i rxiT TiTi 
 
 low bow, begged gnadiges Fraulein to give 
 him the honor of the first waltz. Gnadiges 
 Fraulein consented, and off we started. 
 The floor was excellent, — you know one 
 finds hardwood floors everywhere here in- 
 stead of carpets, — but oh, how fast these 
 Germans dance ! The Lieutenant swung 
 me round and round in a small circle, pres- 
 tissimo, until I begged him to stop, where- 
 upon he looked very much surprised and 
 asked me if I had heart trouble. I assured 
 him that such was not the case, but that 
 we were not accustomed in America to 
 whirl about like tops. 
 
 Waltzes and old-fashioned polkas fol- 
 lowed in rapid succession. I can't imagine 
 how Herr Leutnant ever managed to do 
 that one-two-three-hop, one-two-three-hop, 
 without falling over his sword. At mid- 
 night everybody, including Frau von Wald- 
 fel, danced the F?~anfaise, which is much 
 like our Virginia Reel. You should have 
 seen how the Baron and Baroness enjoyed 
 it, and how astonishingly light they were on 
 their feet ! They fairly glowed with pleas - 
 [64] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 ClIZIIXII I I I III III I IIIIIIIII II I III III IIrilll^IIIIrtlTIll I H TIIt TIIII IItTTTTT I 
 
 ure, and reminded me of Mr. and Mrs. Fes- 
 si wig at the Christmas party. 
 
 I had looked forward to this affair with 
 considerable curiosity, not only because it 
 was to be my first glimpse of German social 
 life, but also because the Baroness had 
 invited Lieutenant Blum, the fiance of 
 Fraulein Hartmann. I must confess, how- 
 ever, that I was much disappointed in him. 
 He is short and dark, with a heavy, black 
 mustache which he constantly caresses with 
 his fat little hands. Although I did not 
 exchange a word with him the whole even- 
 ing, except the formalities of an introduc- 
 tion, I could not shake off the impression 
 that he was of much coarser fibre than 
 his betrothed. However, he paid her the 
 most devoted attention the entire evening, 
 and is, apparently, very much in love. 
 
 At one o'clock Milttercken and I ex- 
 changed glances. I had a lesson at the 
 Conservatory the next morning at nine. 
 But at the first hint of our leaving, the Bar- 
 oness looked so distressed and surprised that 
 we were afraid we had been very rude and 
 [ C5 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 c i i : i i i:iii : iiiiiniiii:i:iiiiiiii iiiiiz:iiiii u iiiiiiiriiii :ix:x:i:imxm: 
 
 determined to do the proper thing. The 
 proper thing in this instance meant staying 
 up to dance till half-past four in the morn- 
 ing. Oh ! how sleepy I was as I crept into 
 bed and thanked my stars that the Naniens- 
 Tagfete was over. 
 
 Evening. 
 
 By this time I am beginning to feel quite 
 like a native. My surroundings no longer 
 seem strange. I am growing accustomed to 
 five meals a day and the language sounds 
 fairly rational. My work has settled into a 
 regular routine. The entire mornings are 
 devoted to study. In the afternoons come 
 lessons. Twice a week I have a private 
 lesson with Thuille. At the Conservatory 
 I am studying singing with Frau Bianci and 
 piano with Fraulein Fischer, which makes 
 four lessons more. The piano lessons are in a 
 class with two other girls, and not as formid- 
 able as you might suppose, for I have ex- 
 plained to Fraulein Fischer that I am only 
 including piano to keep from forgetting what 
 I already know, and that I need most of my 
 [66] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 iTiT ur iriiTi 
 
 [imtmnnniiriTm 
 
 time on my composition lessons with Thuille. 
 She is very kind, and every two weeks we 
 are to read duets together. This makes six 
 lessons a week, and what with the score- 
 reading class and the chorus, I see a busy 
 winter before me. The singing and piano 
 lessons are given in a large, imposing room. 
 It contains two grand pianos and is fur- 
 nished in red velvet. I could hardly recon- 
 cile this with my ideas of a Conservatory, 
 but Frau Bianci explained that the building 
 was originally used for something quite dif- 
 ferent. Just fancy — we address all the 
 teachers by titles ! u Herr Professor " falls 
 now quite trippingly from my tongue, and 
 even " Frau Professor," but " Fraulein Pro- 
 fessor " is a little too much for me as yet ! 
 
 I will acknowledge that I felt rather 
 strange at the first meeting of the score- 
 reading class, when, on entering the room 
 with the score of Haydn's symphonies under 
 my arm, I encountered the astonished gaze 
 of thirty pairs of masculine eyes. You 
 could have heard a pin drop, the place was 
 so still, as I walked by the different groups 
 [61] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 and took a seat near the window. Then a 
 low whispering started among the students. 
 Evidently I had created a sensation. A 
 moment later the big door opened and 
 Stavenhagen came in. Every one rose, or 
 straightened himself up at once. With a 
 nod which seemed to include us all, the 
 director took his seat by the piano and the 
 lesson began. Each one was called on to 
 play a number of bars written in four dif- 
 ferent clefs, the old soprano, the tenor, the 
 alto, and the bass — Stavenhagen selecting 
 a new choral every time. It was not till 
 near the end of the hour that he called my 
 name. Just as 1 took my seat before the 
 keyboard, feeling intensely nervous and 
 fearing lest my fingers tremble visibly, I 
 heard one of the men smother a laugh. 
 That settled it ! I was bound to do or die, 
 and with a calmness quite unnatural I played 
 the bars set before me without a mistake. 
 Nobody laughed when I had finished, and 
 now that the first shock is over, the students 
 treat me with the utmost courtesy. Indeed, 
 they seem to have accepted me as inevitable, 
 [68] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 although occasionally I catch one of them 
 staring at me with an expression which says 
 as plainly as words, " What on earth does a 
 woman want of score reading ? " 
 
 The chorus is well under way. To- 
 day is Thursday, and while you have been 
 singing with the faithful in the Cecilia So- 
 ciety I, too, have been at a rehearsal, only we 
 call it a Probe here, and the atmosphere is 
 somewhat different from that of Pilgrim Hall. 
 The Oberster Chor (which means the upper 
 chorus) met at five o'clock to-day. The 
 room where we sit is on the top floor and at 
 the end is an organ. I think the orchestra 
 class generally practises here. The air is 
 always frightfully close and hot, for there 
 are about two hundred of us and never a 
 window open. That is the German idea. 
 What a splendid thing a Fresh Air Fund 
 would be over here ! 
 
 The piano against the wall is on a raised 
 platform about which the chorus forms a 
 half circle. Professor Becht, one of the 
 organ teachers, presides. Such a time as he 
 does have endeavoring to maintain order ! 
 [69] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 ftTTii niT TT » .» iiiii T T » imiiiiittiiiiMiriii ii iiiiximri:in :i iizi i i i iiSD 
 
 But the moment we begin to sing — ah ! 
 that is a different matter. Each pupil be- 
 comes utterly absorbed in the notes before 
 him, from the first measure to the last. 
 Each sings as though he loves to sing ; yes, 
 better than that, as though he actually feels 
 what he sings, which is more than can be 
 said of many vocalists who have won both 
 fame and fortune. There, you see, is an- 
 other side of these complex Germans. The 
 love of music is their birthright, the appre- 
 ciation of it intuitive. 
 
 How I wish you might see some of this 
 queer congregation! The masculine ele- 
 ment ranges from small boys to bearded 
 men. The girls and men are kept strictly 
 separate, like the sheep and the goats. They 
 enter and go out by different doors, for the 
 building is divided in two distinct sections. 
 The sanctity of each section is kept as in- 
 violate as a Shaker settlement. 
 
 The front row of tenors in the chorus 
 amuses me exceedingly. It consists of boys 
 who wear their hair pompadour and yell out- 
 rageously. Did you ever notice the effect 
 [70] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rTTTTTT , t „ Ttt „ i, t i 1 TTTtTit »niTTtTTiiiiii iin i :iiiiiTii i : ii:ix tiiiin i »» o 
 
 of a boy with pompadour hair opening his 
 mouth very wide? It is truly startling. 
 The basses form a curious vis-a-vis for these 
 youthful aspirants. Their age is in the neigh- 
 borhood of thirty. Obviously to be a bass 
 singer requires both dignity and experience. 
 Most of them think it also requires a full 
 beard. Several of the pupils affect the artis- 
 tic, or are dressed after the old masters, with 
 long hair, brown corduroy velvet jackets, and 
 flowing neckties. There is one I have 
 named Rubenstein, he looks so much like 
 the pictures of the great pianist. And the 
 most interesting tenor-boy I call Beethoven. 
 He wears a big white collar into which he 
 sinks his chin, and with deep, earnest eyes 
 under closely knit brows gazes gravely out 
 on a frivolous world. 
 
 I felt very much like the proverbial stray 
 cat as I entered the room at the first rehearsal, 
 alone and silent in all that crowd of chatter- 
 ing German girls. Not knowing where to 
 sit, I cast an anxious look around and caught 
 the friendly glance of a girl in the second 
 row. She beckoned to me somewhat shyly. 
 [71] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 " There is a place here, if you care for it," 
 she said. 
 
 Overjoyed to hear my mother tongue, I 
 gladly took the seat beside her, and we were 
 soon chatting in the unconventional way 
 known to strangers who meet on strange soil. 
 I could not but notice with what a high-bred 
 manner my new friend carried her head. 
 Her hair, black and curling, is coiled in a low 
 knot at the back of the whitest of necks, for 
 she wears her blouses cut out a little without 
 a collar, as is the strange and rather chilling 
 fashion here. I was struck, too, by her 
 jacket of black velvet, an odd school dress, 
 but one which seems to suit her perfectly. 
 
 " You are English, are you not ? " I ques- 
 tioned. 
 
 " Not at all," said she, her blue eyes snap- 
 ping as much as blue eyes ever can snap. 
 "I'm Irish. I come from County Cork." 
 
 " Oh ! " I said, drawing a long breath, as 
 visions of the representatives County Cork 
 generally sends to America flashed through 
 my mind. 
 
 " I 'm taking piano as my Hauptsache 
 ' [«] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 imt»H l t t TtIIT l Tm TTTTmttIIITITTT II I I IIIItH!TIIirttIITItTTTriHtTTtlm 
 
 with Krause," she went on. " You know 
 Stavenhagen and Krause have a great many 
 foreign pupils. By the bye," she continued, 
 " I have a friend myself in the United States. 
 I wonder if you know her — a Miss Curtis." 
 
 " Could n't you tell me what city she lives 
 in ? " I suggested. " I know several people 
 of that name." 
 
 " Then I 'm sure you know her. How 
 delightful!" she replied, radiant. (I made 
 a mental note of the fact that jumping at 
 conclusions is a trait not confined exclu- 
 sively to American women.) " She comes 
 from Los Angeles." 
 
 For the twentieth time since my arrival 
 in Munich I explained the relative situation 
 of Boston and San Francisco, and politely 
 regretted that I could not know all the 
 music students as far as the Pacific coast. 
 
 I was surprised at first to see how much 
 deference is paid the professors here. When- 
 ever one enters the room we all immediately 
 rise and do not sit until he either goes out 
 or, by a gracious wave of the hand, accords 
 us permission to resume our places. In 
 [73] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 IT T; ni i i» ! niiiit t M t tiim"Hmi »"""i»"»»»"»»'»"»»»»ni 
 
 spite of my democratic birth, these marks of 
 respect impressed me as extremely fitting. 
 About every two weeks comes a " Vort rags- 
 abend," an evening devoted to a concert by 
 the pupils. Stavenhagen has a large orches- 
 tra composed of the students, which he con- 
 ducts himself. We are marked, too, by 
 some occult system whereby our standing 
 is never known unless we " flunk." 
 
 Last week I had a very pleasant chat 
 with Professor Gluth. He is a well-known 
 composer here, has written several operas, 
 and teaches at the school. Margaret Ruth- 
 ven Lang had been kind enough to give me 
 a letter of introduction to him. He was 
 her teacher when she was in Munich. I 
 have been trying to see him for some time, 
 but have always missed him. He is a 
 splendid-looking man, very large, with white 
 hair, and his manner is most cordial. He 
 was delighted to hear of Miss Lang, and I 
 was proud to tell him of her success in the 
 musical world. 
 
 We have been to the opera twice since 
 I wrote, once to hear Die Weisse Dame 
 [74] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 ;iiix i i n»i i iiTiii ii ii i i riiiiiii:iiirTiiiiiTiriiiiiii i i iit iiiiiiin ,TtTTTT T 1 
 
 and the second to hear " Fidelio." I am 
 afraid the report that the Prince Regent 
 was to be there had more to do with our 
 going than the desire to hear Die Weisse 
 Dame itself, although it is a pretty opera 
 in its way. The audience was very splendid 
 and the royal box brilliantly lighted. The 
 most expensive places are in the first balcony, 
 and here we saw very fine costumes and 
 jewels. At ten minutes past seven — the 
 opera as a rule begins at seven — the or- 
 chestra struck up " God save the King," and 
 the people rose en masse as the Prince, ac- 
 companied by the Crown Princess and 
 several members of the royal family, entered 
 the box. The Regent at once came to the 
 front, and with one hand resting on the red 
 velvet railing, bowed repeatedly to right and 
 left. He is of medium height, with white 
 hair and flowing white beard. His eyes are 
 bright and kindly, and his bearing, while most 
 dignified, is utterly without ostentation. It 
 was an inspiring sight, — the five balconies, 
 the floor, and the boxes all alive with a crowd 
 of enthusiastic people, who, standing, faced 
 [«] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 CTTTTTITTTTTITIIITTTTTIlIIirillT I I III ITI II I IIITI I I II II I IIII I IIII I IIXIXIXSIXX: 
 
 this man who served them as king, and ap- 
 plauded till the house echoed with their cries 
 of "Hoch I Hoch!" 
 
 Although " Fidelio," which we heard on 
 Wednesday, presented no such gorgeous 
 spectacle, how much more we enjoyed that 
 evening ! Morena sang the title role, and 
 I feel as though I never want to see any one 
 else in the part. She is a tall, commanding 
 woman of great beauty, and the masculine 
 dress of Leonora suits her marvellously. 
 Her voice is exquisite, fresh, and true, and 
 her acting shows great intensity of power 
 and feeling. Bosetti, who, you remember, 
 sang so delightfully in Hansel und Gretel 
 made a charming Marzelline. When the 
 opera was over Mutterchen and I rose to go, 
 but to our surprise saw that the audience 
 remained seated. As we took our places 
 again, Zumpe raised his baton and the first 
 measures of that divine Leonore overture 
 number three rang out. I have never heard 
 anything more impressive, coming as it did 
 to form a finale to the opera itself. It 
 seemed as though the people held their 
 [76] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 tii i» TiT ii TiT T>ii! i i mn ! i?iTni ii; ; iT!iii;miimmnn;nmiinniirTn 
 
 breath during the performance ; not a rustle, 
 not a movement distracted one from the 
 glorious music of the orchestra. At the 
 close the whole house broke into wild ap- 
 plause and cries for " Zumpe ! Zumpe ! " 
 
 I do think this German enthusiasm 
 splendid. We talk about the stolidity of 
 the Teutonic race, but I have never yet seen 
 here an unresponsive audience. If they 
 do not like a thing they remain silent. It 
 is the exception to hear any hissing, although 
 it now and then occurs. If they do like a 
 thing they applaud, and applaud lustily. 
 They resemble big, impulsive children, and 
 the man who said " There is nothing for 
 preserving the body like having no heart " 
 would find no place among them. That 
 cherished enormity known as Modern 
 Indifference, by so many of us regarded as 
 the outward sign of culture, is, in Germany, 
 thank Heaven, conspicuous by its absence. 
 
 November 28. 
 
 Yesterday was Thanksgiving Day. I 
 could hardly realize that you were feasting 
 [77 J 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 at home on turkey and cranberry sauce 
 amid all the festivities of the season. The 
 day here passed as usual with my morning 
 of study and a lesson with Thuille in the 
 afternoon. In the evening, that we might 
 not forget what day it was, the American 
 colony had a dinner and dance at one of 
 the large hotels. I had no idea before that 
 there were so many Americans in Munich. 
 
 Colonel W said there must be about 
 
 four hundred in all, and fully two hundred 
 and fifty came to the dinner. The rooms 
 were lavishly decorated with American flags 
 and flowers, as were also the tables. And 
 oh ! how pleasant was the sound of English 
 on every side. The consul's wife and the 
 rector's wife received the guests under a red, 
 white, and blue bower, and at seven o'clock 
 we all went into the dining-room to the 
 strains of the " Star Spangled Banner." 
 The rector asked grace and then came the 
 dinner. That, dear Cecy, I must confess, 
 was but a farce when compared to the 
 genuine creation, in spite of the American 
 flag on the menu and the assurance that 
 [78] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 : ilIIII I IIIIIII I lIIIIlIl lllllIlll lllliixiiiiiiiiTiii Tiii irT i;;i; it; n irTTTiT-! 
 
 these were American turkeys especially 
 imported for the occasion. The cranberry 
 sauce, too, would, I believe, have been passed 
 by unrecognized on the other side, but any- 
 thing was preferable to dining on veal and 
 beer on Thanksgiving Day. After the 
 dinner came dancing — it had been thought 
 best to have no speeches — and it did seem 
 delightful to trip it in a sane way once more. 
 The whole affair was decidedly successful, 
 and made us realize that Thanksgiving was 
 a real institution even if we were on German 
 soil. 
 
 I must tell you how charming all the 
 people here made my birthday, which came 
 this week. In the morning Miltterchen 
 presented me with some lovely gifts tied 
 with a red, white, and blue ribbon. To our 
 surprise, about ten o 'clock came a knock on 
 my door, and in walked Karl bearing a huge 
 cake on a tray, the Baron and Baroness 
 following. They were all three beaming 
 with delight, and each shook my hand a 
 dozen times in their cordial way, wishing 
 me all sorts of good things. The cake had 
 [79] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rii n i i i x» »» nniiiiii i iiiiiimxxxx«iziii i i iixi i ii i iii in iiixiiiiixiiixzm 
 
 been ordered and made at the pastry cook's 
 especially for me. It was round and bore 
 across the top, in letters of marvellous white 
 frosting script, " Herzlkhen Gruss" (Hearty 
 Greeting). 
 
 " That must have the place of honor," I 
 cried, much moved by their friendliness, as 
 I swept the books off the table. "It is 
 truly a wonderful cake." 
 
 Hardly had they gone when a second 
 knock sounded, and in response to my 
 "Herein!" in came the servants in a row, 
 headed by Georg, the butler. Twisting the 
 buttons of his livery, he made a little speech 
 very fast, all of which I could not understand, 
 but the burden of it was a wish that the 
 lieber Gott would keep gnadiges Frdulein 
 in health and happiness all her days. Then 
 he shook me warmly by the hand. The 
 maids followed, each wishing me good 
 fortune in some pretty couplet, and with 
 a quaint little courtesy also shaking my 
 hand. It was all done with such delightful 
 simplicity that I can never forget it. 
 
 But this was not all the kindness I re- 
 [80] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 i n iirx m x m i r xii um x r zi iin iiinixzxiiiii i imiii m i nium i ! T T m rTT] 
 
 ceived, for when we went out to dinner, 
 there on my plate was a beautiful basket of 
 white roses from my " friends in the pension" 
 I did not know what to say in my sur- 
 prise, so I only exclaimed Danke Taus- 
 endmal (a thousand thanks), and sat down 
 quickly, lest I should cry or do some equally 
 foolish thing. 
 
 Just as we were leaving the room after 
 dinner Frau von Waldfel came up to me, 
 her niece by her side. 
 
 " I want to tell you, my dear, that T sent 
 to Nuremberg for some Lebkuchen in honor 
 of your birthday," she said. " You will find 
 the package in your room. They tried to 
 persuade me in the shops," she added, low- 
 ering her voice to a whisper, " that the 
 Lebkuchen they sell here are as good as the 
 genuine article, but I know better, and these 
 are the real Nuremberg ones, famous the 
 world over." 
 
 I thanked her heartily for her thoughtful- 
 ness, assuring her that I had often read of 
 them in my fairy-tale books. Then they 
 both shook hands and Fraulein Hartmann, 
 
 6 [81 J 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 ; iimiii;m ; iir ii i ;T m i »m;iin i;T imiimimiiii r T i m i iii i mimni 
 
 blushing slightly, leaned over and kissed 
 me. 
 
 " It is the custom," she said shyly, " and 
 perhaps you will miss your American friends 
 less on this day if you realize you have made 
 new ones here." Wasn't it sweet of her ? 
 
 In the evening we celebrated by going to 
 the Popular es Konzert — the Baron and 
 Baroness, Herr Doktor, Lieutenant Linder, 
 Mutter 'cJien, and myself. It was held in the 
 Kaim Saal, where the Weingartner concerts 
 are given, and rendered by the same orchestra 
 under the leadership of Scharrer. In place 
 of the rows of seats were substituted tables 
 as at our " Pops " at home. The hall was 
 extremely crowded when we entered and we 
 did not at first obtain a table where we 
 could sit together. Mutterchen and I took 
 places at one in the rear, and I noticed after 
 we had been seated a few moments the 
 disagreeable expression on the faces of the 
 strangers at the table. In fact, two of them 
 looked seriously offended and made some 
 remark to each other, sotto voce, with a 
 glance towards us. In bewilderment I 
 [82] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 wondered what could have destroyed their 
 equanimity, for they seemed placid enough 
 when we first came in. Suddenly it flashed 
 across me. 
 
 " Don't you remember," I whispered to 
 Miittcrchen, "Edith told us the other day 
 it was the custom to bow to those sitting at 
 table whenever we took a seat with them ? 
 We didn't do it, hence this atmosphere of 
 ungracious toleration." 
 
 M'uttcrchcn looked alarmed, but just then 
 the lieutenant came up to take us to a table 
 large enough for our whole party, and we 
 soothed the wounded feelings of those we 
 had so unconsciously offended by bestowing 
 the most cordial of bows as we went away. 
 
 This was not, however, our only unhappy 
 experience, born of ignorance and American 
 training, on that evening. It chanced, when 
 we reached home after the concert, that the 
 lieutenant turned to M utter chen first to say 
 good night. 
 
 " A most enjoyable evening, gnadigc 
 Frau" he said, bending low over her hand. 
 That he was to kiss it she had not the slight- 
 I W ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rTTT>tI> t TTT«» »»lll.m «» » « lllT »T»t n»ltIIIIllIlllIT IIII IXIIl I I I» IIXIX m *x^u 
 
 est premonition. In point of fact he did n't, 
 but he tried to, while Mutterchen inno- 
 cently raised her hand at the critical moment 
 and gave him a fearful rap under the nose. 
 His glasses flew off with a crash, and he 
 flushed very red, more from the blow than 
 embarrassment. It takes a great deal to 
 embarrass a German officer. While he 
 groped about on the floor in search of his 
 glasses, Mutterchen stammered forth a flood 
 of apologies in the best German the Berlitz 
 School affords. We were indeed relieved 
 when he recovered the glasses intact, and a 
 hearty laugh banished our distress, for the 
 Germans like a joke — provided it is not too 
 subtle — as well as the rest of us. 
 
 Wagner's Ring of the Nibelungen is to 
 be given in two weeks, and we purchased our 
 seats to-day. I am all enthusiasm to hear it 
 and am reading the poems. I have a splen- 
 did little book which has the leading motifs 
 written out at the back and in the margins 
 of the pages a statement of just what motif 
 occurs at certain lines. It sounds complex, 
 — doesn't it? — but is most interesting. 
 [84] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 [xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx.x x xxxxxxxxxxx x xzxx xxxxxxixxxixxxxxxxxi r] 
 
 Wish me joy, and in the meantime believe 
 me, as always, 
 
 M. 
 
 P. S. Fraulein Hartmann is not happy. 
 I am convinced of it. To be sure, I never 
 see her except at table, for her aunt keeps 
 her always closely by her side. But to-day 
 I passed the girl in the hall, and her eyes 
 were swollen from crying. She looked so 
 sad that I stopped and asked her if I could 
 not do something for her. For a moment 
 she looked at me hesitatingly and seemed 
 about to speak, w T hen in walked her unbear- 
 able aunt. 
 
 " My niece has a frightful headache," she 
 exclaimed, " and bed is the best place for 
 her." 
 
 I feel sure that odious lieutenant has been 
 doing or not doing something that disturbs 
 her. I am constantly meeting him on the 
 stairs. He comes in every day to drink 
 afternoon coffee and is usually sauntering 
 down just as I come in from the chorus hour 
 at the Conservatory. When he sees me he 
 bows very low, and, with a twist of his tire- 
 [85] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rTtttt »ii^» »i iiiiir TTttTi »ii T T »t»»iiiiTiTiiiiinii:ri iiixxiiii n i n xiin 
 
 some mustache and a glance which he 
 imagines is impressive, hopes " sehr geehrtes 
 Fraulein is in good health." 
 
 If it weren't for his stunning uniform I 
 don't believe the pretty Fraulein would look 
 at him twice ! 
 
 [86] 
 
f ;iIIII H r imiI i : i :i I I lII I I I IIIII II tIITITy i : lII» I T IT TI TTIItTTTTT I TITITITTTn 
 
 B ~~~~ 1 
 
 rxnTiim» i ii»»»m i tmiiiirnnnnriirmrTiTn!!i!i i i! i ! i i iTi ! ii i »ti 
 
 Munich, December 8. 
 Dear Cecilia : — 
 
 ^TTyHE WIND IS SHRIEKING 
 
 m in great gusts, which begin piano, 
 Jl crescendo to fortissimo, and then die 
 away in weird, unearthly echoes, while the 
 rain keeps up a continuous counterpoint to 
 this minor music in sharp staccato against 
 the window panes. The mist is so thick 
 that the obelisk at the end of Max-Joseph- 
 strasse looks like a mere shadow. It is now 
 five o'clock and I have " shut up shop," as 
 it were, to talk with you, for my lesson for 
 to-morrow, a fugue in C minor, is finished. 
 It occurred to me, as I was writing it, how 
 curiously a fugue subject resembles certain 
 clever and unscrupulous people. Both are 
 thoroughly adaptable, both are capable of 
 saying the direct opposite of what they 
 have previously boldly stated, both are 
 difficult to deal with and can only be 
 managed successfully by employing the 
 greatest finesse. 
 
 [89] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 f T TH TI Ht l l t T II HtMimil TttTIItllHTTttMIITIItTtlllTIIIimiirmilllim 
 
 Tuesday. 
 
 I was interrupted in my letter of yester- 
 day by Frau von Waldfel and her niece, who 
 came to call. Of course that meant a cup of 
 coffee. When they left I had to hurry down 
 to the school for a lesson, so writing was out 
 of the question. By the bye, I am afraid I 
 may have excited your sympathies unduly in 
 favor of Fraulein Hartmann, for ever since 
 that day I wrote you, when I met her cry- 
 ing in the hall, she has appeared most cheer- 
 ful. Yesterday she was in unusual spirits, 
 although to tell the truth her gayety struck 
 me as somewhat forced. It was as if she 
 were endeavoring to overcome the impres- 
 sion which her tears must have given me. 
 
 After my lesson with Thuille yesterday I 
 stopped in at Miss Pollard's. She is a piano 
 student with whom I have become ac- 
 quainted, and goes by the nickname of 
 Polly. I found her sitting on a very low 
 stool before the piano and resting her fingers 
 on the keys, for all the world like a child too 
 little to reach up to play. 
 [ 90 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 [iniM i in i iiiiiiiiim n i iiii iiiimumtniiMM mm -~r rrm 
 
 " What are you doing ? " I said. 
 
 " I 'm practising," she said, with crushing 
 dignity. Then, throwing me a supercilious 
 glance, " This is an exercise especially rec- 
 ommended by Lescheticsky." 
 
 " Oh ! " said I meekly, inwardly wonder- 
 ing if there are any more sensitive creatures 
 on earth than we music students. How en- 
 thusiastically we rave over our " method " ! 
 How more than ready we are to challenge 
 man, woman, or child who breathes a doubt 
 of its infallibility ! And oh ! with what 
 majestic disdain we utterly ignore the very 
 existence of any other ! Realizing all this, 
 I judged it wiser to change the subject by 
 asking quickly, — 
 
 " Are the girls coming to-day ? " 
 
 No sooner had I spoken than in came the 
 two New York girls of whom I wrote as 
 calling on me when I first arrived. We have 
 become firm friends by this time. Over a cup 
 of tea we four discussed the last Weingart- 
 ner concert, and more especially Alexander 
 Petschnikof. (I can never pronounce his 
 name without wanting to sneeze.) He 
 [91] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 n»»iimtm»»!»i!mimiiiimimiimmtiTiiTtn!iiTT tM t m T ' rtTT 1 
 
 had played the Mozart Concerto and Bach's 
 Chiaconna most acceptably, to judge from his 
 reception. Since none of us were violinists 
 we felt free to discuss his style and phras- 
 ing with all that intolerance which people 
 are wont to employ when criticising things 
 of which they themselves are ignorant. 
 
 Just as we were putting on our wraps 
 Polly made a confession. 
 
 "Well, girls, I'll have to tell you the 
 truth," she said. " I 've been complained 
 of to the police." 
 
 44 Again ? " said Louise, in a startled 
 whisper. 
 
 " Again ? " Edith and I echoed, aghast. 
 
 44 And who is it this time?" demanded 
 Edith. She has a way of recovering and 
 getting at the root of things before any 
 one else. She did not ask why. We all 
 knew that there could be but one reason. 
 Polly, usually the essence of demureness, 
 turned and looked at us with hard, angry 
 eyes. 
 
 44 It 's the Poet downstairs," she explained. 
 44 He says I 'm ruining his inspirations by 
 [92] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 fTTTTt»t»»TTtTTTT»tTITlHinHtMI»ritIHniIIIIIIIIItIt»ilHmTfTTTTTT1 
 
 my barbaric pounding. Fancy that reach- 
 ing Lescheticsky's ears ! He says I 'm * at 
 it' all day!" 
 
 " Outrageous ! " cried Louise. 
 
 " Preposterous ! " avowed Edith. 
 
 They were both following the laws of 
 Lescheticsky. 
 
 " I 'm so sorry," said I more mildly, for 
 somehow I could not help but see a picture 
 of the distressed poet, pacing the floor, and 
 beating his brow as he vainly sought for a 
 brilliant thought, while from above came 
 the unceasing, monotonous, nerve-destroy- 
 ing sound of a Czerny exercise repeated 
 over and over. 
 
 " It 's not the moving I mind," continued 
 Polly, " I 'm quite an adept at that, having 
 lived in three pensions since my arrival last 
 August." Here she smiled bitterly. " But 
 at one thing I do rebel, and that is at hav- 
 ing to pay thirty marks for a damper for 
 my piano, which I ordered from Berlin in 
 the hope of appeasing him when he com- 
 plained a week ago!" 
 
 It was, indeed, an unhappy situation. We 
 [98] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 -, urn iiFTTt»niiiiiTiTii ii i ii»Tiiii i iiiiir xrmn 
 
 all knew, too, that those thirty marks meant 
 a good deal to Polly. 
 
 " Perhaps, after all, it will come out all 
 right," said Louise consolingly. 
 
 "I consider it an absolutely absurd pro- 
 ceeding ! " said Edith emphatically, as she 
 stamped out into the hall. 
 
 "You might come down and talk with 
 the Poet's Wife at our pension" I suggested. 
 We always said "the Poet's Wife," since 
 we had long ago given up her five-syllable 
 name as hopeless. " I 'm sure she would be 
 able to help you." 
 
 You see Polly lives alone. We three 
 discussed the matter as we walked down the 
 Ludwig-strasse, the girls leaving me at the 
 Conservatory, where I had a piano lesson at 
 five. 
 
 And now I must stop, for it is time to 
 dress for the opera. To think of hearing 
 the " Rheingold " at last ! 
 
 Saturday. 
 
 I have heard the " Rheingold " and " The 
 Valkyrie," and can hardly wait for " Sieg- 
 [94] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 t:i:i : i : iii n ;i :i :iii:iii: x:ii i i iiii i iiiiiiiixnn i ;niii III Trt l nn tTTTrrT ri 
 
 fried" to-morrow night. Every seat in the 
 Hof-Theatre was occupied, and an immense 
 crowd stood downstairs. The price of seats, 
 increased three marks, seemed to make no 
 difference in the attendance. Polly and 
 two of her friends were too late to obtain 
 any desirable places, so they clubbed together 
 and engaged a Dienstmann to get their seats 
 for them. One finds a Dienstmann at every 
 turning here. They are forlorn, sad-eyed 
 creatures, in short, frayed jackets and red 
 caps, who linger on street corners gazing 
 abstractedly into space with their hands in 
 their pockets. For a small sum they will 
 run from one end of Munich to the other, 
 or, if need be, will stand in line for tickets 
 from four in the morning on. Polly has a 
 favorite old Dienstmann called Friedrich. 
 Accordingly, Friedrich was summoned to 
 the rescue and stood the entire night with 
 hundreds of others on the chilly stones of 
 Max-Joseph-Platz in order to get seats. 
 There is a rule that not more than three 
 tickets can be sold to one of these men. 
 The places in the gallery cost two marks 
 [95] * 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 r TTT T T T TTTtTTtTT »»i tiiii i »Ti ! iiii i iiiii iiii i iirm:iiii i iiiiu : i i iii : in n 
 
 (fifty cents) and the Dienstmann demands, 
 for standing all night, generally four marks. 
 It is divided among the trio, so they get 
 their places for about eighty cents. This 
 price is the exception, however ; ordinarily 
 one pays but thirty-five cents for a seat at 
 this altitude. 
 
 When it comes to sitting in the balcony 
 or orchestra one finds that the fabulous 
 stories which one hears in America about 
 the cheapness of opera are grossly exag- 
 gerated. 
 
 "Why, opera costs nothing over there ! " 
 you hear. " One can go for a song ! " 
 
 As a matter of fact, the seats in the first 
 balcony generally cost two dollars, an orches- 
 tra seat a dollar and a half, and very often 
 these prices are considerably increased. 
 
 Is there anything more exquisite than the 
 first act of the " Rheingold," more bewitch- 
 ing than those elusive daughters of the 
 Rhine, more perfect than the enchantment of 
 those rippling chords ? The whole scene is 
 a flawless poem. When it came to the 
 second act, however, my indomitable sense 
 [96] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 ^UlXlHAUllll l lllTITTUllll l M.M.trillii,,. T l- 1 1 i . i ,, ,,., T rTTTTTT] 
 
 of humor rose to the surface. You have 
 heard that old adage, have n't you, " Laugh 
 and the world laughs with you, weep and 
 you weep alone " ? I have proven satisfac- 
 torily that the first part is a fallacy pure and 
 simple— at least in Germany. Was I at 
 fault because when I first heard the giant 
 motif I smiled? Am I to be condemned 
 because I had to smother a laugh when 
 Mimi rolled over and over on the stage, and 
 shrieked forth a ridiculous " Augh ! " as in 
 a fit of indigestion ? And the giants were 
 such wild-looking creatures with grotesque 
 tufts of hair on the crown of their heads — 
 should I have taken them more seriously? 
 Apparently, if I am to judge from the de- 
 meanor of the audience, who never changed 
 their expression during the entire opera. 
 And, after all, there are a good many people 
 at home who think to regard one bar of 
 Wagner without reverential seriousness is 
 sacrilege. Yet " to thine own self be true," 
 Cecilia, and so I make no defence. What 
 need when I am writing to one who Under- 
 stands ? 
 
 7 
 
 [97] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 .im i i i irxxzxxxa 
 
 gnnanaaaan 
 
 The spring motif of " The Valkyrie " is 
 the incarnation of tenderness and eternal 
 freshness, and the climax of the whole opera 
 seems to me simply colossal. Briinnhilde, 
 sung by Senger-Bettaque, was convincing 
 and forceful. Her supposedly fiery steed, a 
 raw-boned black creature who looked suffi- 
 ciently mild for children to drive, was reluc- 
 tantly dragged in, licking sugar in a most 
 obvious fashion from the corners of his 
 mouth. Even a sturdy and belligerent 
 Briinnhilde, it seems, must at times yield to 
 puerile means in order to gain her point. 
 Later the war-maiden was seen scudding 
 through the sky on a snow-white charger, so 
 I judged she must have been fortunate 
 enough to exchange her apathetic beast 
 during the course of the opera. Fricka was 
 sung by Fraulein Fremstad, whose Carmen, 
 I hear, has made quite a furore. The whole 
 thing was splendidly given, and in the last act 
 I gleaned considerable knowledge about the 
 bass tuba which comes in here so often, just 
 as in the " Rheingold " I marked the growl- 
 ing themes for 'cello and double basses. 
 [98] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 CIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlIIIIIIIIIIIIIIXItlTIIIIlIIIITITtT lIlim TTT H TTTTT-) 
 
 Monday. 
 
 Well, it 's all over, that wonderful Ring ! 
 " Siegfried " came on Thursday, and Knote, 
 whom I had previously heard as Tristan, 
 sang the title role. At the end of the first 
 act the audience fairly went wild with en- 
 thusiasm. Oh, that wonderful bit of orches- 
 tration where Mimi speaks of fear! And 
 that perfect effect of the bird- voice in the 
 Wialdweben, singing in the clarinet above 
 the strings, while the horn note, pianissimo, 
 gives that poignant touch of color which 
 only the brain of a master could conceive. 
 
 The dragon, which Herr Martens tells me 
 is generally a small affair, was horrible and 
 immense enough for any one. I positively 
 trembled when he poured forth clouds of 
 steam from his gaping jaws, and disclosed a 
 throat of red fire. The bass tuba makes a 
 grand worm. I never realized what it was 
 to hear a worm crawl before. But in spite 
 of the wonders of the work, I wish it were 
 shorter. My head was frightfully tired en- 
 deavoring to follow the countless inter- 
 199] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTITTTIIIIIIirilXIXXXXXtllXXXXXXXXXIXIIITIttimilXIIHTTTTTTTT-l 
 
 woven themes. But then, this is my first 
 hearing of it all, and perhaps another time 
 I might change my opinion. 
 
 What a stupendous climax Gotterdam- 
 merung is to the whole Ring ! The prel- 
 ude is perfect, and I can imagine no more 
 dramatic moment than that when Siegfried 
 drinks to Briinnhilde in the fatal draught. 
 Never shall I forget the grandeur of the 
 music at the breaking of day, before the en- 
 trance of the hero, and the stirring sound 
 of those eight horns ; nor will that last 
 grand picture of Valhalla fade from my 
 mind for many moons. 
 
 It seemed as though half the American 
 colony had turned out for the Ring, for we 
 continually met people we knew at the in- 
 termissions. There is always a pause of 
 twenty minutes at some time between the 
 acts. Why, you inquire ? My dear Cecilia, 
 a German would never think of existing 
 two hours without refreshment, much less 
 four ; consequently there is n't a theatre or 
 opera house in all Germany which does not 
 contain a restaurant. To be sure, it is 
 [100] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 ■TTTiTii i TTiiT i i iir i i i iirTiiiiiiillii x i i i xixixxi i x i i i x iiiiixiiii i iii i iiiii i n 
 
 rather a come-down to discover Professor 
 B , whom you saw a moment ago en- 
 thralled by the strains of the Waldweben, 
 now prosaically munching a ham-sandwich 
 and drinking beer in a corner of the cafe, as 
 though his soul had never been stirred be- 
 yond the excitement of choosing what he 
 should order for dinner. But that is the 
 German temperament, and one soon gets 
 used to it. 
 
 There is the " Siegfried " bird-call running 
 through my head again ! Is it that which 
 the fountain — my fountain, as I claim it 
 now — sang to me as I passed to-day ? Or 
 did I myself unconsciously hum the melody 
 and hear in the ripple of the falling water 
 the soft rhythm of accompanying 'cellos and 
 violins ? 
 
 Decent her 15. 
 
 Christmas is in the air, and every street- 
 corner has bloomed into a miniature forest 
 of trees. These are fastened in squares of 
 wood, and stand up straight and proud. As 
 a rule some strange, bent old woman pre- 
 [101] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 nrnmani iiiiiMTnminiriiiii:nni:»ii i:: n iinz x i im i:x«n 
 
 sides over them, and out of curiosity to-day 
 I stopped in Odeons-Platz and inquired the 
 price of a particularly plump little tree. 
 
 " One mark fifty " (thirty-seven and a half 
 cents), quavered the dame, " but they run up 
 as high as fifteen marks." 
 
 The poor soul looked so disappointed as 
 I, after thanking her, turned away, that I 
 simply could not resist going back — least of 
 all at Christmas time. There was nothing 
 to buy but trees, so I picked out the plump 
 little one which had first attracted my atten- 
 tion. She was delighted and beamed at me 
 as I started off with it dragging behind me 
 from under my arm, for my hands were full 
 of music books. I had not the slightest idea 
 what to do with my new possession. I had 
 just made up my mind to leave it at some 
 one's door, when who should come trudging 
 along through the snow but the Hausmeis- 
 ter's little boy. He was on his way home 
 from school, with his books strapped to his 
 back in one of these curious black knapsacks 
 which all the school children carry. I thrust 
 the tree into his arms, with the assurance 
 [102] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 , . , i i! 11/ ininitiiuuiiTiiiiiiMiwMimiiiiimmu 
 
 that it was for him, and left him, wholly be- 
 wildered, hugging it tightly to his breast. 
 
 When I reached the corner I turned to 
 see him still standing there and gazing after 
 me from between the branches with an ex- 
 pression of astonishment and delight. I 
 waved my hand, and at last he moved and 
 gave a sign with his red mitten. Then he 
 turned and ran towards home as fast as his 
 fat legs could carry him. 
 
 The shops, with one exception, are not 
 nearly as finely decorated as ours at home. 
 This exception is the sausage-store, which is 
 a thing of beauty and a joy forever. To be 
 frank, a sausage had never impressed me as 
 a particularly artistic creation, nor had I 
 been wont to regard it as a species of deco- 
 ration until Germany unfolded to me its 
 many possibilities. Could you but see one 
 of these windows, hung with long ropes, the 
 links of which are large Frankfurters joined 
 together by a band of green, you would 
 not fail, 1 am sure, to admire the intricacy 
 of the designs and the striking originality 
 with which the small sausages are inter- 
 [103 1 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 » l ::iITI II H:SI IIIIIIIIIIITIII tI I I T»TIHT ITTTTT TIII I H TTTT HI I H ITTT I ITtTT T T 
 
 spersed with the larger ones so as to produce 
 the most surprising effects ! Who ever as- 
 sociated sausages with anything so idyllic as 
 a waterfall ? Yet here you have a wooden 
 mill, high up on an improvised hill, and over 
 the wheel flow down streamers of sausages 
 to mass in a lake below. Who ever thought 
 of connecting them with the legends of the 
 Middle Ages ? Yet Herr Schmidt, at the 
 corner, has constructed the most marvel- 
 lous tower out of sausages laid crisscross, 
 with openings for little windows, with a 
 turret on the very top, with a flag wav- 
 ing proudly on the highest peak, and most 
 wonderful of all, with a drawbridge securely 
 fastened over a moat of parsley. 
 
 Everybody gives every one else some little 
 remembrance for Christmas, and we are rack- 
 ing our brains to think of things appropriate 
 for those at the pension. The clerks in the 
 shops help one out all they can. You have 
 no idea how courteous they are. Always 
 on entering they say " Good day " and the 
 proprietor comes up with " How can I serve 
 you, gnadiges Frdulein ? " Then they will 
 [104] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 fTITJTTTT TTTTTTITITTITTIIIIII I IITII i lll lZTII II ZII I II III X IIIII IIIIII I IIIITTTra 
 
 pull down all the goods in the store, bring 
 out hidden boxes from under the counters, 
 and even send outside for something they 
 have not got, remaining perfectly satisfied 
 if you only purchase something. If you buy 
 nothing, however politely you may regret 
 that the silk does not match, or the lace 
 bear the required pattern, they plainly show 
 their displeasure in their faces. 
 
 We are always politely escorted to the 
 door by a clerk, who bids us good by. 
 Often in the smaller stores it is amusing 
 to hear the chorus of farewells which fol- 
 low us. Last week Polly and I had coffee 
 at one of these fascinating Conditorei, or 
 little bake-shops which one finds here every- 
 where. For an absurdly small sum we had 
 a table to ourselves, coffee enough for a 
 dozen, and the most delicious cakes you 
 ever ate ! When we had finished, I started 
 to leave some Trinkgeld for the waitress, 
 who had served everything in the daintiest 
 fashion. 
 
 " Fifty pfennigs ! " said Polly, looking at 
 the coin that I had laid on the table. 
 [ 105 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 :mm T 
 
 TTTTTII lIT TTttll lllllT I IIIIIIIITTIII lI II TIIIIX II H 
 
 " I felt I ought to give more, but they 
 told me " I began. 
 
 " More ! " exclaimed Polly. " I never 
 heard of such a thing ! Don't you know 
 that ten pfennigs (two cents and a half) for 
 each person is considered quite sufficient ? " 
 
 Polly has lived here longer than I, and 
 has absorbed the idea that a pfennig — a 
 fifth of a cent — is a pfennig, and not to be 
 lightly treated. Accordingly I laid the 
 sum on the table. The waitress swept the 
 money into the black leather bag which she 
 wore about her waist just as Kathie does in 
 Alt- Heidelberg, and expressed her thanks 
 repeatedly as she opened the door for us 
 to pass out. 
 
 " Bitte, verehren uns wiederf" (Please 
 honor us again) said the proprietor from her 
 desk. 
 
 " Adieu, meine Damen" cried the waitress 
 at the table in the corner, while our little 
 maid poured forth a continual sing song of 
 " Danke sehr, meine Damen. Best en Dank ! 
 Habe die Ehre!" (I have the honor) until 
 we were out on the street. 
 [106] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 Polly and I looked at each other and 
 laughed. 
 
 " Don't fancy it was the effect of the tip," 
 said she. " They go through the same pro- 
 gram for half the money. I always give ten 
 pfennigs and have never missed a word." 
 
 She laughed again gaily, for she is once 
 more quite happy inasmuch as the "poet 
 on the floor below" has been suddenly 
 called to Stuttgart. A drama of his has 
 been accepted there, and he was so over- 
 come with joy that he withdrew his com- 
 plaint and told Polly she might " bang 
 away" till he returned. 
 
 "And now come down to the Schlussel 
 Bazar with me," she said, tucking my hand 
 coaxingly under her arm. " I want you to 
 help me select a gift." 
 
 There is no more fascinating place for a 
 Christmas shopper than the Bazar, but I 
 glanced at the clock on the Theatiner church. 
 
 " I really can't, Polly," I said ; « there is 
 a chorus rehearsal at five, the last before the 
 concert, and I must hurry along this minute 
 or I shall be late." 
 
 [ 107 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 C mT TTTIIXXXXXII I I I IIIII I IXXZniIIIII I IIIII T III i m TT TIII ITTIT TIIII IIITTTTT- l 
 
 So we parted, and I wended my way 
 quickly through the fast-gathering dusk, 
 past the Feldernhalle, which never looks 
 more imposing than when half concealed 
 in the mystery of shadows, across the busy 
 Platz, now twinkling with countless lights, 
 by the statue of Lewis the First, and in at 
 the door of the old Conservatory itself. 
 
 December 18. 
 To-day came the Probe in the big hall for 
 the concert next week. The regular Con- 
 servatory chorus has been enlarged by a 
 number of new voices, some of which are 
 shrill enough to pierce through the dome 
 itself. I came home utterly exhausted, for 
 we were kept singing and standing three 
 hours, and never in the annals of conducting 
 was there a more wretched rehearsal. For 
 the first time I saw a new side of Stavenha- 
 gen ; he literally raged, but instead of making 
 himself ridiculous he was positively majestic. 
 To be sure, he got very red in the face, and 
 his blond, curly hair, through which he 
 despairingly thrust his hands, was much 
 [108] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 mTtllTITIIITTTTTIIIIIITIT TI I ITtlli S I I IIIIIII I I I IIITT T IIi rtl l lll llT TtltlTT^ 
 
 awry, but he stamped about on his bit of 
 platform so ferociously, shook his baton so 
 threateningly, and shouted his commands in 
 such sonorous German that I trembled in 
 my American shoes. 
 
 We sang first Liszt's " Excelsior." Why 
 is it that the most shrinking, retiring, and 
 timid-appearing member of an orchestra is 
 always the one to play the instruments of 
 percussion ? One can easily imagine a stout, 
 muscular creature presiding at the kettle- 
 drums, but when we come to look for him 
 we discover him at the end of the line of 
 flutists, playing the piccolo. The eternal law 
 of opposites is, I suppose, as applicable here 
 as elsewhere. An unusually meek man was 
 to manage the bells which play such an im- 
 portant part in this work, and he continu- 
 ally came in half a beat late. Stavenhagen 
 glared at him darkly, tried him several times, 
 and then gave it up as hopeless. The chorus 
 attacks were frightful, and each part sang at 
 its own sweet will. 
 
 The Brahms Requiem began more auspi- 
 ciously, and as the beautiful first movement, 
 [109] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rTTTTTHITTTTTHTTTTTTTTTTTTITITITIIITTITIYITIIIIIIITTTTITTTTTTTTHTTITTTTra 
 
 which we really sang well, went on, the 
 director's tense expression softened, and he 
 relaxed into his usual easy beat, hand on hip. 
 At the close, where the sopranos end with 
 the pianissimo phrase, " selig sind" (blessed), 
 and the tenors come in yet fainter after 
 them, and the whole thing dies away as 
 might the distant notes of a celestial choir, 
 we were gratified to hear him murmur " Sehr 
 schon ! " He praised us, too, for the second 
 movement. Is n't it magnificent when the 
 whole chorus sing in unison that grand, broad 
 theme, " Denn alles Fleisch ist wie Gras " 
 (Behold all flesh is as grass) ? And then 
 the tender melody, " So seid nur geduldig " 
 (Therefore be patient), which follows ! It 
 nearly swept me off my feet. Let critics 
 say what they will, I love the work, and 
 think perhaps, after all, Mr. Huneker is 
 right in saying that Brahms is the first 
 composer since Beethoven to sound the 
 note of the sublime. 
 
 We were just congratulating ourselves 
 on getting through very creditably, when 
 alas ! we stumbled upon the pitfalls and 
 I no ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 ii i mmimii T mmmiiim T i i in nmiiiniii T n nnnrT ! TMiiii i n irm 
 
 snares of that most difficult of fugues, " Der 
 Gerechten Seelen " (The righteous souls). 
 There is a bit of it where the tempo is amaz- 
 ingly tricky, and I remember no place, even 
 in Bach's B minor Mass, so difficult to sing 
 well. The girl beside me, who had a high, 
 shrill voice, insisted on coming in a measure 
 too soon, and this repeated mistake set our 
 director's nerves on edge. 
 
 " Die Erste Sopran ! Die Erste Sopran ! " 
 (The first soprano !) he cried, shaking his 
 baton at our corner. Over and over we 
 sang the same bars, but never once perfectly. 
 Finally he threw down his stick, and with a 
 desperate " Ack, Gottf" put his hands over 
 his ears. 
 
 The chord broke off abruptly. The 
 orchestra, plainly very bored, carelessly 
 examined their instruments. The other 
 members of the chorus looked at us re- 
 proachfully. We looked anywhere we 
 dared. The first sopranos were in disgrace. 
 
 After what seemed an interminable silence, 
 in reality about half a minute, Stavenhagen 
 picked up his baton and said calmly, sternly, 
 
 [in] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 mini : ii: : n:i:i : irtn:iiiixx xx:i i i iii iii i iii xiinii i Tminnxiiiiiirxxmj 
 
 his voice cutting the stillness, " We will 
 go on." 
 
 Well, we got through somehow, but it 
 was after eight o'clock when I ran down 
 the snowy street back to the pension. The 
 family were at supper and the anxious face 
 of Miltterchen looked relieved as I opened 
 the door. 
 
 " We thought you were lost, is n't it ? " 
 said the Herr Doktor, in what he considered 
 unimpeachable English. 
 
 Fraulein Hartmann, looking charming in 
 a light-blue gown which she had donned in 
 honor of Lieutenant Blum, her aunt's guest 
 that evening, jumped up and ran to meet 
 me. 
 
 " I 'm so glad you are here safe," said she. 
 To her the idea of a girl being out alone 
 after six o'clock was almost inconceivable. 
 
 " I myself was on the point of going in 
 search of gnadiges Fraulein" said Lieu- 
 tenant Blum, with a low bow, much rattling 
 of sword, and that sneering smile which even 
 his great black mustache fails to conceal. 
 
 " That was indeed kind of you, Herr 
 [112] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 tTIIIITTIIITITITIT I T IIIIHI I I II IHII I III I IIISIII I IIIII T l IIIIIHTT imnn TTTl 
 
 Leutnant" I replied as sweetly as possible. 
 " You really did n't think me lost, or kid- 
 napped, or perchance murdered in cold blood, 
 did you ? " I added to Miitterchen, as I took 
 my seat. 
 
 " I might have thought even such frightful 
 things as those, had not our friend opposite 
 insisted that you had been detained and that 
 there was no need of ' putting up my um- 
 brella till it rained,' " she answered. 
 
 I looked gratefully across the table at the 
 Poet's Wife, who smiled understandingly 
 back. Hers is one of those sunny, unselfish 
 natures which, " when they have passed the 
 door of Darkness through," leave the world 
 a better place than they found it. 
 
 The serenity of perfect poise is such an 
 enviable thing to possess ! Alas, that it is 
 so seldom found in people of a musical tem- 
 perament ! I can hardly imagine a placid 
 Tschaikowsky or an unruffled Dvorak, can 
 you? 
 
 [113] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 cixixixxiixix i xiiin x: 
 
 Christmas Day. 
 
 it TC 
 
 Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht ! 
 Alles schlaft, einsamwacht, 
 Nur das traute hochheilige Paar, 
 Holder Knabe im lockigen Haar 
 Schlafe in himrnlischer Ruh'. 
 
 Can you see us as we stood on Christmas 
 Eve in the quaint dining-room singing to- 
 gether the old carol which has rung 
 throughout Germany on this night for cen- 
 turies gone by ? We formed a strange con- 
 gregation — all wanderers from different 
 parts of the globe, for once united by the 
 Christmas spirit. There were eleven of us 
 in all, — the Baron and Baroness with Karl 
 between them, their rosy, good-natured 
 faces sober and reverential ; Herr Doktor, 
 standing near, his critical expression soft- 
 ened as, under the spell of the song, his 
 thoughts turn to his Paris hearthstone; 
 Frau von Waldfel, forgetting, in the mean- 
 ing of the hour, to wonder what sort of 
 [114] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 goodies we were to have for dinner ; Frau- 
 lein Hartmann, lost in a dream, at her side ; 
 the Poet and his sweet-faced wife, holding 
 each other by the hand as they joined 
 firmly in the refrain ; Herr Martens, aban- 
 doning his student airs to add a tenor, and 
 last — but best of all — Mutterchen. I sat 
 at the piano to play the accompaniments, 
 where I could see not only them, but catch 
 a glimpse of the servants who stood to- 
 gether outside in the hall. They were all 
 arrayed in their best. Georg, especially 
 gorgeous in the splendor of a new livery 
 with fully six dozen brass buttons, stood in 
 the front row. Next him was the cook, 
 resting her hand on the head of her little 
 girl, who had been granted leave from the 
 convent to attend this gala occasion. The 
 other servants crowded together behind 
 them. For this one evening in the year 
 caste was forgotten, and the Baroness's 
 strong soprano joined with the alto of her 
 maid as they led the rest in the hymn each 
 had sung from childhood. 
 
 All went well till we reached the second 
 [115] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 verse. Then 1 heard Herr Martens' voice 
 tremble, then break, then cease altogether. 
 Poor fellow ! his family is scattered over 
 two continents, and for him the word 
 Home is associated only with a sense of 
 forlornness and loss. Gretchen, our own 
 little maid, but a year away from the Bava- 
 rian Highlands, hid her face on Therese's 
 shoulder. I looked at Mutterchen bravely 
 singing, but I knew in my heart that she 
 was thinking of Home. The picture of 
 those around the table across the sea flashed 
 across me and I felt an odd tightening at 
 my throat. 
 
 It was only for a moment — this shadow 
 of sadness on us all. Then it suddenly van- 
 ished, for at the last note the Baron flung 
 open the double doors of the salon and ah ! 
 what a bewildering, fascinating, wonderful 
 tree was revealed ! Karl and I exchanged 
 glances with satisfied smiles. We were 
 proud of our work. The hours of labor in 
 the morning spent in tying on the vari- 
 colored balls, in hanging the tinsel favors, in 
 arranging the silver shower had not been in 
 [116] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 TT »n!»ii i iiiiiniiMii i iiiiiiiiti i;miuuimi;mi i iiiiii ti mma nrn} 
 
 vain. It was indeed a marvellous shower, 
 delicate, fairy-like, falling from the very top- 
 most bough, where stood the figure of the 
 Christ-child with outstretched hands as if to 
 bless those below. 
 
 For a moment we were breathless with 
 admiration. Then "All for the presents 
 together," shrieked Karl in glee, " Eins, zwei, 
 drei ! " and in we went. 
 
 Along the sides of the room ran tables 
 covered with a white cloth and trimmed 
 with evergreen. On these the gifts were 
 laid, not done into parcels, but tastefully 
 arranged. Each person had his own partic- 
 ular group, and over it hung a bough of 
 green and a basket of cakes and candy. In 
 one corner was a large table for the servants. 
 Mutter chen and I could not help smiling to 
 hear the flood of joyous exclamations on 
 every side as we examined our presents. 
 The German language seems to have an 
 endless supply of adjectives expressive of de- 
 light. There are thousands of them, ranging 
 from the sonorous grossartig, with the pro- 
 longed rolling of the rs, to that overwhelm- 
 [117] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 t Ti» « »«T » » iT»T « »«t « T iT»» »»iiiiii i iiiiii ixiiii ix.ii iii i in iii i i n iiiii xnTXTTi 
 
 ing one which has such a wealth of emphasis 
 on the last syllable, kol-os-sdl! When they 
 are all, as it were, turned on together, the 
 effect is torrential ! 
 
 After we had looked at our gifts and ad- 
 mired those of every one else, and the ser- 
 vants, beaming with happiness, had shaken 
 hands and expressed their thanks, we went 
 into the dining-room. Of course there was 
 a Bowie and we drank, standing, a toast to 
 " Merry Christmas." Then we played a lot 
 of games, which although childish afforded 
 us much amusement. Lieutenant Blum, 
 with mustache more marvellously twisted 
 than ever, came in and joined us, and later 
 Edith and Louise with a lieutenant of the 
 Second Regiment appeared. Just before 
 twelve we all set off for St. Michael's to 
 attend the midnight mass. 
 
 The great cathedral was crowded when 
 we entered, and we could only find places in 
 the chancel on the left of the altar. Thus 
 we had a good view down into the church 
 itself, and by the flickering light on the pil- 
 lars dimly discerned the vast crowd kneeling 
 [118] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 H l U l lllMMUHHIIMTTTnTTTTTTT T TTXrilllllll TT TTTTTTTJ 
 
 in the pews, blocking the aisles, and occu- 
 pying every portion of available space. Be- 
 yond them and above hovered mysterious 
 shadows. It was almost oppressively silent. 
 Only the footsteps of those entering broke 
 the intense stillness. The sound, dying 
 away in weird echoes high up beneath the 
 vaulted roof, made the silence which fol- 
 lowed more absolute. 
 
 Suddenly the big bell on the Frauenkirche 
 began to toll in wonderful, mighty throbs. 
 At the same moment, from above among 
 the shadows, floated down the sound of 
 music — exquisite strains of Palestrina. 
 The door on our left opened and a long line 
 of priests entered, clad in magnificent robes 
 of white and gold. We all fell on our 
 knees in the semi-darkness, our eyes turned 
 towards the high altar, which alone gleamed 
 like a gorgeous jewel beneath the rays of 
 a hundred tapers. The impressive service 
 began. 
 
 Through hazy clouds of incense I gazed 
 down on the kneeling, worshipping crowd, 
 kneeling and worshipping just as thousands 
 [119] ' 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 tTTTTTTTITITIIII I ITTITTIIII T I*IIIIIIITIIIIIIIIIXIIIIIIIIIXIIIIXIII»**tTTITrr) 
 
 of other throngs were doing at that very 
 hour, here in far-off Germany, in France, in 
 Italy, and across the sea. The marvellous, 
 beautiful meaning of it all stirred me. My 
 mind turned back through the ages to that 
 night in the dusky stable of Bethlehem. 
 Surely it is the wonder of all wonders that 
 one Life — one brief, mortal Life, lived 
 among millions of other lives — now after 
 the passing of centuries stands out as the 
 sole link uniting all Christendom. 
 
 Lost in the beauty of the service with its 
 lights and incense and music and gold-decked 
 priests, it was with a start that I awakened 
 as it were from a spell when the music 
 ceased, and the priests had filed out through 
 the arched door. The cathedral felt sud- 
 denly damp and chill, and shivering, I pulled 
 my cloak around me. 
 
 " I did n't care for the organist's selection at 
 all," said Polly critically, as we turned to go. 
 
 " We must walk as quickly as possible or 
 we shall all be ill for a week with colds from 
 sitting so long in this damp church," added 
 Edith in her emphatic way. 
 [120] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 But the Poet's Wife said nothing. She 
 only looked at me with her deep, unfathom- 
 able eyes, and pressed my hand gently. 
 Sometimes she reminds me of you, Cecilia. 
 She is one of the few in the great world 
 who Understand. 
 
 [121] 
 
3TTTt»TIIIIITITIIlIIIITT;iTTTITITITTTrTTTTHr;iTtTHrTTTTtT»TTTTTIf»T?rTTT 
 
 V 
 
 IIIIIIIIIIII I :iIIIIIITITITITIITIIIIIi;iTTTITTT T Tt*ITTTTTTTTTTTT Y l ; T i TTTTT* 
 
iiitiiiiiiiriiinniiTiiiiiiiiirtTiiiiiiinii.il , . ,, 
 
 Meran, January 1, 1903. 
 
 ^J^JHE HAPPIEST OF NEW 
 
 M Years to you, Cecilia! Have you 
 -* ever been among the mountains in 
 winter ? Have you ever run away on a 
 holiday to a quaint little town nestling in 
 the valley, and wandering through narrow 
 streets and climbing up snowy roads for- 
 gotten that such things as canons or double 
 counterpoint exist ? If not, Cecy mia, get 
 out your hood and fur coat and start ! But 
 before you go, let me tell you that I have a 
 deep-rooted conviction : namely, that you 
 can find no more entrancing spot on the 
 globe than Meran. For Meran, you must 
 know, lies exclusively apart from the rest of 
 the world, deep down in the valley of the 
 Adige and jealously guarded on every side by 
 high mountains, like a jewel in a casket. The 
 mountains themselves, covered with snow 
 from base to summit, are so magnificent and 
 stirring that I call them Wagner mountains. 
 And oh ! the sunset on their frosty peaks, 
 [ 1^5 J 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 t llTSTTTITTTTTTTTT I TtTTTTTItlTTTITIIIIITIIIIIIIIIIirillXIIIXIIIXIIIIimTTTO 
 
 when all the white is changed to rose — it 
 beggars description. 
 
 We left Munchen on Christmas Day — 
 just after my writing you. All the pension- 
 naires and servants came to the carriage and 
 bade us good by with much hand-shaking 
 and expressing every possible good wish for a 
 pleasant journey, just as if we were to be 
 gone a year instead of ten days. Can you 
 imagine spending Christmas riding through 
 the Brenner Pass ? Let me tell you, too, 
 there never can be anything more marvel- 
 lous than this same Brenner Pass in winter. 
 There has been a heavy storm for some days 
 and it left the whole country half buried 
 in a white cloak. Snow, snow everywhere, 
 covering every mountain, stretch of valley, 
 and hill ! It is a grand sight. We were so 
 enchanted with the scenery that we forgot 
 to mourn the lack of holiday festivities. 
 Then, too, we did have one important fea- 
 ture of the season, for it only needed a 
 glance out of the windows to discover a 
 Christmas tree. Indeed we were in the 
 midst of a whole forest of them, only in 
 [126] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 Ltiilillt^,^LLL^xiiiti t ittIXXXXXXrXllIXXXX IIIlIIIIIItIIIiItltlT Tiin ; t TT7T T T ^ 
 
 place of tinsel and spangles we had the 
 lovelier decoration of pure snow, and instead 
 of brilliantly colored favors, from every 
 branch hung pendants of flashing ice, which, 
 like finely cut gems, reflected the sunlight 
 in flashes of all the colors of the rainbow. 
 
 On the train who should chance to be in 
 
 the next compartment but Miss B from 
 
 California, one of the students at the Con- 
 servatory. We had a delightful chat over 
 music. She is studying with Krause, and 
 told me quite a little about him. She says he 
 is very erratic in his teaching and never gives 
 a lesson twice alike. Sometimes he paces 
 up and down the room while the pupil is 
 playing. Often lie gazes abstractedly out 
 of the window for fully a quarter of an hour, 
 saying nothing. Again, he stands with his 
 back to the stove, hands behind him, appar- 
 ently listening ; then suddenly darts out of 
 the room and does not return for twenty 
 minutes. 
 
 " When he teaches Beethoven it is a dif- 
 ferent story," she went on. " He likes to 
 do that better than anything. He draws 
 [127] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 ri iii i xxx TiTXTi iin T T T i t inT inrnniitiiixixxxxxxxxxxxxixxixxxxxixxxxxxxira 
 
 up a chair and sits close beside the pupil, 
 following every note. The slightest mistake 
 is not overlooked. It's a fearful ordeal ! " 
 
 We changed cars at Bozen, for only a 
 single branch road, winding through the 
 picturesque valley of the Adige, connects 
 Meran with civilization. On our arrival we 
 found the heartiest of welcomes from our 
 
 friends the S s who were at the station. 
 
 We drove at once to their home, which is 
 called " Villa Pomona," and is situated on 
 the hill overlooking the town. The servants 
 greeted us at the gate, and the dogs came 
 bounding out with enraptured barks. Turn- 
 ing into the path leading to the house I 
 had my first good look at the villa. It is 
 square, and constructed of yellowish stone. 
 Between the windows are frescoes represent- 
 ing the goddess of plenty, the graces, etc. 
 A terrace runs around it. It reminds one, 
 in a way, of the Pompeian houses. Inside, 
 it is no less charming, and oh ! so de- 
 lightfully American in its furnishings and 
 arrangement ! The only discord in the 
 harmony are the German porcelain stoves, 
 [128] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 tTiTtT irTr iiiiT iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin ririiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiir iiiiiiiiii i riTiriTi 
 
 but one can't have everything and live in 
 the heart of the Austrian Tyrol too. 
 
 We breakfast in the loveliest room up- 
 stairs. The windows command such an 
 inspiring view that one almost forgets to 
 eat. Below lies the valley itself with 
 its one church spire and its mass of 
 quaint, low yellow buildings huddled to- 
 gether ; on the heights at the right rises an 
 old, crumbling tower, the remnant of a once 
 splendid castle ; on the left stretches out 
 the valley, and far away there in the dis- 
 tance, so far that the blue of the sky be- 
 comes misty, one sees the first spurs of the 
 Dolomites which guard the gateway into 
 Italy. On every side rise these majestic 
 mountains of snow, whose peaks look as if 
 cut out by a giant knife, and laid against 
 the background of an intensely blue sky. 
 
 When we have finished breakfast we 
 generally take a walk to town. Our ob- 
 jective point is the post-office, but we would 
 accept almost any pretext to wander down 
 the hill and join the crowd strolling in the 
 sunshine on the Gisela Promenade. The 
 o [ 129 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 Promenade lies across the river, for an im- 
 petuous little stream cuts the village into 
 two sections. Accordingly, at the foot of 
 the hill we cross the most picturesque of 
 stone bridges and find ourselves at once on 
 the broad walk, which, lined with fine old 
 poplars, runs straight along the bank of 
 the river. At eleven o'clock the walk is 
 crowded. Meran is not only a fashionable 
 resort in winter, but a favorite spot for 
 invalids on account of the perfection of its 
 climate. One sees them always on the 
 Promenade at this time, walking slowly up 
 and down, leaning back in wheel chairs, 
 listening to the music of an excellent 
 Capellc, as they call the orchestra, which 
 plays here daily. If the weather happens 
 to be cold, which is seldom the case, the 
 music can be enjoyed in the luxurious Cur- 
 haus especially built for the purpose. 
 
 It was just by the band-stand, in the 
 delightful sunshine of our second morning 
 here, that I had the pleasure of meeting 
 Carl Zerrahn. You remember the time 
 when he was such a prominent conductor and 
 [130] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 ,T t Ttt«» tty tTTt H f lll Ttt»t »IIlllTTIT I IIlll li:>IIXmiII I I IIIIII H IIlIIIIIIIP 
 
 musician in Boston, do you not ? We had 
 sat down to rest and hear the music when 
 
 Mr. S pointed to the tall, commanding 
 
 figure of an elderly man slowly approaching. 
 
 " Here comes Zerrahn," he said ; " he is, 
 alas, almost blind now, and cannot recognize 
 any one except at close range." 
 
 A thrill of sadness swept over me, as I 
 recalled him as the first conductor I ever 
 saw, standing on the stage at the old Music 
 Hall and sweeping the Handel and Haydn 
 Society along in those great choruses of the 
 "Messiah " and " Elijah." His hair is now 
 snow white, and his walk feeble, but he 
 stands as proudly erect as when he wielded 
 the baton in the height of his success. 
 
 He did not perceive us approaching, 
 although the members of the Capelle, who 
 all knew him, watched us curiously. When 
 we were within a few feet of him, we intro- 
 duced ourselves as old friends whom he had, 
 perhaps, by this time forgotten. It was 
 charming to see his frank delight in meet- 
 ing us again and in learning news of Boston, 
 which he loves very dearly. 
 [ LSI ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 lltlSIIIIIIIIIITIIITIIIIIIIIIIIIXIIIirtXIIIIIItlHIITITTTT THHH rT im TTTTn 
 
 " I am staying with my son here," he said, 
 " but I feel that Boston is my home, and I 
 shall go back there in a year or so. I 
 worked and lived and grew in Boston. It 
 is to me what no other city is." 
 
 He asked about the Handel and Haydn 
 Society, inquired about my musical studies 
 and the Munich opera, and was so thoroughly 
 kindly and interested in everything pertain- 
 ing to his art that I could not but think of 
 Victor Hugo's lines, " There are no wrinkles 
 on the heart." 
 
 In the afternoon we go driving over some 
 of these countless roads about Meran. It is 
 like travelling through a magnificent picture 
 gallery. The other day we went shopping. 
 You never saw anything so fascinating as 
 the stores. The principal ones are in the 
 " Lauben" the quaintest of streets, whose 
 sidewalks are built under arcades. When 
 we enter, the girl in attendance always says 
 " Kilss 9 die Hand." The first time I heard 
 this I frankly put out my hand to be kissed. 
 A laugh from them all made me blushingly 
 draw it back again. I learned that even 
 [132] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 here in this cool sequestered vale of the 
 Adige people do not say what they mean. 
 It seems the proper thing to murmur "Kites' 
 die Hand" but no one but a servant would 
 ever think of actually doing it. It is a sort 
 of " take the will for the deed " arrangement. 
 The prettiest thing happened here this New 
 Year's morning. We were all sitting in Mr. 
 
 S 's study hearing the latest American 
 
 paper (two weeks old) read aloud, when there 
 came a rap at the door. A moment later 
 the gardener, his wife, and two little girls 
 entered, dressed in their holiday clothes. 
 They all bowed solemnly. Then the parents 
 withdrew to the background, the father 
 nervously turning his cap around in his brown 
 hands, while his wife, in true German fashion, 
 held the bundle, a huge thing clumsily done 
 up in white paper. The older of the two 
 little girls, who could not have been more 
 than five, shyly advanced. In a high, ex- 
 cited voice she recited a little poem about 
 the New Year. Her sister, no less thrilled by 
 the occasion, recited very rapidly two more 
 verses about Freude (joy) and Glilck (hap- 
 [ 133 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rTTTITTTIITI HI I II TITITI I Tttltl T IT I i l TI ISIIIIT r i l lXXXIIIII TIIIII IIII I I TTTTT Y i 
 
 piness). As a finale they together took the 
 bundle and with the prettiest of courtesies 
 
 handed it to Herr and Frau von S , 
 
 "with best wishes for a happy New Year 
 and many thanks for their kindness." The 
 
 S s were much pleased and touched 
 
 by this charming simplicity. The package 
 proved to be a beautiful plant of azaleas, and 
 the whole quartet were radiant with delight 
 as we passed the gift among us and praised its 
 beauty. They went away with many bows, 
 
 looking, oh ! so happy, and Mrs. S 
 
 ordered an extra supply of beer for them 
 in the kitchen. 
 
 That reminds me of a curious custom here. 
 Did I tell you that a servant is engaged at so 
 
 much a week with beer ? 1 Mrs. S says 
 
 the maids make a dreadful uproar if their 
 beer is not forthcoming, and the cook insists 
 on several bottles a day. I should think this 
 might be detrimental to the cooking, but 
 
 Mr. S assures me that it has quite the 
 
 contrary effect, and the more beer she 
 drinks the better she cooks. 
 
 1 Also an English custom. 
 
 [134] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 iTi;m;iH;iTTTm!;!I!III!miIII!Hi;TIIIIITITIT!T HH t t lT!' t I IT l 'TTmTT TTI 
 
 This afternoon we took a long drive, re- 
 turning through the town, so I had a fine 
 chance to see the peasants in gala array. 
 Near a wayside shrine (one finds them every- 
 where here) we came upon a crowd of young 
 peasants sitting on the stone wall, or leaning 
 lazily against it smoking meerschaum pipes. 
 The splendor of their costumes was quite 
 startling. Their funny little round hats, 
 usually severely plain, were coquettishly 
 decorated with bunches of yellow flowers 
 fastened on the brim at the back. Their 
 coats and trousers were of corduroy. Most 
 noticeable of all were their waistcoats of 
 scarlet or bright green. 
 
 " They seem to have very pronounced 
 tastes," I remarked. " Is n't it odd that some 
 of them choose red and the others choose 
 green, as if they belonged to a college team ? " 
 
 "There is method in their madness," 
 
 answered Mr. S laughingly. " A much 
 
 more serious matter than a question of taste 
 is at stake. Let me inform you immediately, 
 my dear young lady, that those whom you 
 see before you in red waistcoats are married 
 [135] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rrrTifTTTT TTTITTTTI TIHITIIIITIIIITIIIHITIXItlTIIIIIIirillTIIITtlTTTITTtTTm 
 
 men, while those in green are bachelors and 
 in the market, so to speak. It strikes me 
 as not a half-bad idea. Surely a girl can't 
 innocently fall in love with the wrong man 
 here." 
 
 " Unless she is color-blind," I added. 
 
 It is time for supper, and as Mrs. S 
 
 has promised us a real American meal I don't 
 want to risk being a second behindhand. 
 No one can realize what that means — a real 
 American meal — unless one has been living 
 for four months on a German pension diet. 
 Why, after so many foreign menus, I feel 
 like the poor soul who "near a thousand 
 tables pined and wanted food." Yesterday 
 we actually had muffins for breakfast. 
 Think of that when one is living in a 
 country where the mere hint of hot bread 
 or ice water calls forth the remark, "I do 
 not see why all you Americans don't die of 
 indigestion." 
 
 I can't get it out of my head that the 
 
 officer I met on the Promenade this morning 
 
 was Lieutenant Blum. He passed by with 
 
 a number of other officers and several 
 
 [136 1 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 ritltTTTtTTIII HI ITttTIT TtT TTTIttTIT T T TTIII I IIIIII I lIIIIIIIII I I I I IIIIIIIi rm 
 
 showily dressed women, all talking and 
 laughing loudly. It is quite possible that 
 he might have come down here on leave, 
 but hardly probable under the circumstances. 
 I did not get a full look at his face. It was 
 the swaggering walk and the little fat hand 
 raised to salute a brother officer that made 
 me start and look again. By that time he 
 had almost passed. Nonsense ! Probably 
 this very minute he is at the pension ac- 
 cepting a cup of tea from Fraulein Hart- 
 mann's slender hands, while Frau von 
 Waldfel from behind the urn regards him 
 with admiring glances, for of course the 
 Fraulein is not allowed to see him alone. 
 That would be a frightful breach of etiquette. 
 Well, I will let you know when I return. 
 For her sake, I rather hope I was mistaken. 
 
 Innsbruck, January 3. 
 
 Yesterday we regretfully left Meran, but 
 the memory of our delightful stay there 
 will long haunt us, and we are living in 
 hopes of another visit to this earthly par- 
 adise. We reached Innsbruck at three 
 [ 187 I 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 ; imHTI II H T miT II H I H I TI T Hm TITT»tTITIIITttHItIIHtItIIItmiimrr 
 
 o'clock, and by four found ourselves here, 
 in this most fascinating of houses — for, 
 Cecilia, we are actually living, eating, sleeping 
 in a castle, a real, bona fide castle, once the 
 hunting lodge of the Emperor Maximilian. 
 I see you start and your eyes glow. " A 
 fig for music ! " you say ; " Let me live in 
 your castle." Yes, you who so revel in 
 mediaevalism, to whom the glimpse of faded 
 tapestries and dulled armor is as so much 
 wine, would surely be in your element here. 
 
 How this former resort of knights and 
 retainers sank to the materialistic, twentieth- 
 century level of a pension I have not yet 
 learned, nor cared to. All I know is that 
 the grand old dining-room, hung with 
 ancient portraits of the royal house, still 
 remains ; that the carved balconies with 
 their worn railings overlooking the rushing 
 stream of the Inn, the narrow winding 
 corridors, the high diamond-paned windows, 
 the picturesque terrace, the goblets, beakers, 
 and trophies of the hunt are yet here — 
 decaying relics of a brilliant past. 
 
 This morning I discovered the crowning 
 [138] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rTiTTiii n TTTTiT» nn T»iiiiiiitiitiTiiiiririiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiii:iiiiiirTTTm 
 
 feature beneath this most enchanting of 
 roof-trees. Leaving Miltterchen to toast 
 her feet by the fire, I went in search of a 
 book in the library. In the many twistings 
 and turnings of the corridors I lost my way. 
 At length I found myself at the top of a 
 short flight of steps, and thinking this was 
 only another way to the library, I walked 
 down them and along the hall. A worn 
 door was at the end. I pushed it open and 
 entered. For a moment the darkness of the 
 place blinded me, coming as I had from the 
 brightness of the outer house. Then I saw 
 more clearly there were people, yes, actual, 
 live people, kneeling on the stones and 
 telling their beads within touch of my hand. 
 No one noticed me as T stood by the door. 
 As I looked about me I saw that I was in 
 a chapel all of stone. Before me was an 
 altar decorated garishly with paper flowers. 
 The light of the sacrament burned dimly 
 above, and cast a shadow on the rough 
 crucifix hanging near. A few rays of sun- 
 light sifting in through the high window 
 at the farther end of the room sent a 
 
 r is9 i 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 {TTTITTTIITTTT TT1 HT I IT TTTt»IIIlIItt»IIlIIIIIIIIIIIIIII I II III H li: i Ii m iIia 
 
 shattered shaft across the heads of the 
 peasants, who, absorbed in prayer, made no 
 movement save to slip their beads along 
 their rosaries. The suddenness of the change, 
 the sense of awe in coming upon this one 
 room, this one place set aside as a shrine in 
 the very midst of a busy household, was 
 startling. I felt myself an intruder, and 
 noiselessly slipped away. 
 
 Upon inquiry at luncheon I discovered 
 that it is the regular custom on fete days 
 for the people of the village to climb up the 
 hill and attend mass where the ruler of their 
 fathers was wont to worship. On a second 
 visit I discovered that on the right, just 
 after entering the chapel, is a tiny square 
 room which at a first glance looks like a 
 cell. In the rough stones of the wall a 
 square hole is cut, and beneath it is a bench 
 to kneel upon. This place was the private 
 oratory of the Emperor, and here he used 
 to attend mass, receiving the sacrament 
 through the orifice in the stones. 
 
 Can you imagine anything more fascinat- 
 ing than living in a house where every nook 
 [140] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 CI I T I tltlTTTIIIT I T T TTTITIT I TTrtTIITI T TII I I II I I I I i r i lll l l ll l llllll lllllllirrn 
 
 and corner is alive with memories of the 
 past ? I could stay here for weeks, but 
 vacation is over and we leave for Munich 
 to-morrow. 
 
 January 11. 
 
 Here we are again in old Miinchen ! 
 Every one in the pension expressed him or 
 herself as delighted to see us back, with all 
 that cordiality which is one of the most 
 charming characteristics of the German 
 nature. 
 
 I began again my lessons with Thuille on 
 Wednesday. I had sent him at Christmas 
 a little remembrance, as is the custom here. 
 Naturally I expected he would thank me, 
 but I was hardly prepared for what fol- 
 lowed. As at his " Herein ! " I entered the 
 smoke- wreathed studio, he tossed his cigar- 
 ette into the waste-basket, jumped up from 
 his desk, and with both hands extended 
 came to meet me. 
 
 " Ach ! gnadiges Fraulein ! " he exclaimed, 
 " you were so kind to remember me in that 
 charming way." Then what do you think 
 [141] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 tTTT»TTTTTITITII»TXTTTITIIIIIIIIXIi;iriIIIIIIIIIIITITITi;tIIIirTTTItTTTTTTTTTT 
 
 he did ? He bent over my hand in the 
 most dignified way and kissed it. I felt 
 like an empress holding court, and blushed 
 to the roots of my hair at the honor he had 
 done me. I took my accustomed chair 
 beside his at the piano, inwardly praying 
 that it would not be my ill luck to push off 
 to the floor any one of the dozens of cig- 
 arettes which always lie carelessly strewn 
 about. Then I placed my fugue on the 
 music rack. Whatever I bring, be it sona- 
 tina, invention, or merely a counterpoint 
 exercise, Thuille daringly plays it out 
 forte. This is so different from the way 
 Mr. Chadwick does. He seldom if ever 
 touches the piano when looking over work, 
 but takes the sheet and leaning back in his 
 chair " hears it in his head," marking the 
 mistakes with a blue pencil. My fugue 
 was pronounced recht gut, which made me 
 very happy, for I had spent several hours 
 over it. When Herr Professor had finished 
 with my work he brought out a piece of 
 music from the cabinet. 
 
 " Here is a thing which is worth your 
 
 ri42] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 mnniuiimiiti miimn iii inmiiii mnnmnTniiiii m tiitt . t .3 
 
 while to study," he said. It was Mozart's 
 Serenade in B flat major for wind instru- 
 ments, including the corno di basetto and the 
 contrafagotto. If you want a task, try to 
 play it from score at sight. Thuille rattled 
 it off as though it were the simplest exercise. 
 I could not repress a sigh when he had 
 finished. 
 
 " Ach Gott, my child ! " he exclaimed, 
 smiling at my hopeless expression ; " I don't 
 expect you to play it now like that. Study 
 the construction and the instrumentation. 
 You will learn much from it." 
 
 As I rose to go I noticed a number of 
 loose manuscript sheets on his desk. 
 
 " This is a new piece for orchestra I am 
 doing," said he. 
 
 A page of full orchestra score always 
 fascinates me. It's rather odd, when you 
 stop to think of it, now isn't it, that all 
 those little black dots with tails to them 
 represent actual sounds of different instru- 
 ments and that they together produce an 
 harmonic whole ? There is as much individ- 
 uality in the writing of these dots as in 
 [143] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 handwriting. Thuille's notes are very small, 
 distinct, and closely written. Professor Paine 
 has a large, firm hand. Chadwick's notes 
 appear as though hastily dashed off, although 
 perfectly legible. I remember distinctly the 
 day he showed me the score of his brilliant 
 Symphonic Sketches. It looked interestingly 
 complex, although, to tell the truth, what im- 
 pressed me most were the original verses 
 which preceded each sketch. They cleverly 
 portray a definite mood, and are, as it were, 
 the key to what follows. Never by any 
 chance do these appear in the program book, 
 so the listener is left to puzzle out for him- 
 self just what the composer means to convey. 
 I am to begin soon to study overture form, 
 and Thuille asked me to bring Beethoven's 
 overtures with me at my next lesson. 
 
 Later. 
 
 We are both much struck with the change 
 in Fraulein Hartmann. She is much paler 
 than she was before we went to Meran, and 
 flushes nervously at the least excitement. 
 Mutterchen, who has the misfortune to be 
 [144] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 CTIIIITT I TTTITIT T I I T tlllllll TT HIII III I I III I IIIII I I I IIIIIIIIIIIIIlIlIIIIIi m 
 
 next to Frau von Waldfel at table, inquired 
 if her niece were ill. 
 
 " Indeed, no ! " answered the Hungarian 
 woman somewhat sharply. " What can 
 you expect when a girl betrothed to an 
 officer makes ready for a grand wedding in 
 the spring ? There is much to be done and 
 dozens of gowns to be ordered. My niece 
 is merely tired with the happiness of it all." 
 
 At that moment I caught Fraulein Hart- 
 mann exchanging a glance across the table 
 with the Poet's Wife. In that one, quick 
 flash I read many things, for the eyes of 
 the former betokened genuine distress, while 
 the reassuring look which met hers was that 
 of a sympathizing friend. A second later 
 the Poet's Wife was tactfully leading Frau 
 von Waldfel to give her views on the new 
 cooking-school, while Fraulein Hartmann 
 abstractedly replied to the queries of a stout 
 American woman who sat next her. This 
 new arrival is merely here for a few days. 
 She and her apologetic-appearing husband 
 are " doing " Germany, Italy, and France 
 complete in three weeks. 
 10 [ 145 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 tTXTXItl XII I I I IIIIIIIX I XI III IIlXIII I II I IIIIlIIIIIIIIII I I IITI ITtl lTTTTTTTTT^ 
 
 " I want ter know where those pictures 
 of Reuben are. Baedeker stars em three 
 times," said the stout traveller, turning to 
 me. 
 
 I was longing to ask " Reuben who " ? 
 but Mutterchen, evidently sensing my temp- 
 tation, pressed my foot under the table ; 
 so I merely said as politely as I could, " I 
 think you mean the pictures in the old 
 Pinakothek by Rubens," and gave them 
 the directions to Barer-strasse. While they 
 were commenting upon them, I wondered 
 what could have happened during our ab- 
 sence to make Fraulein Hartmann and the 
 Poet's Wife close friends. I wanted to ask 
 if Lieutenant Blum had been at Meran, but 
 intuitively I felt it best not to mention 
 the subject. Here is indeed a romance to 
 which I have found no key, as Omar would 
 say. 
 
 The Conservatory is open again and 
 everything is in full swing. In spite of the 
 fact that I have very little opportunity to 
 practise on the piano — because my work for 
 Thuille requires the greater part of my time, 
 [146] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 ^ i Ti iii iniiiiim i nnmnnni"'"""""" 1 " "" 1 """"""""" 1 ' 
 
 — I enjoy the lessons immensely. When 
 we read at sight I find them especially inter- 
 esting. We have been playing some splen- 
 did things for two pianos, among them those 
 lovely Schumann variations in D major. 
 If you don't know them get them by 
 all means. Yesterday we finished Brahms' 
 symphony in E minor, with its vigorous 
 allegro giocoso, and have begun Liszt's 
 Symphonic Poems. 
 
 How everything helps everything else in 
 music ! The orchestra reveals its nuances 
 twice as clearly when one is familiar with 
 the actual material of a work, and then in 
 composition it is absolutely necessary to 
 have a broad field of literature from which 
 to draw models and examples. 
 
 Poor Frau Bianci is in a terrible state 
 over my pronunciation of German. u It 
 will go in speaking," she says, " but, ach 
 Gott ! must be much finer for singing ! " I 
 managed to get Beethoven's " Kcnnst du 
 das Land ? " to suit her, but only after 
 much toil for both of us. I repeated each 
 phrase a dozen times after her before I was 
 I 147 1 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 , „ , „ ,.,, ! ,,, iur iiiimMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii i iinimm xiiiin 
 
 allowed to sing it. Truly, I feel very 
 young and irresponsible. Don't talk about 
 musical temperament and feeling to me ! 
 My one idea is to get the vowels open 
 enough and to pronounce these fiendish 
 umlauts in the approved fashion. I fell 
 down most shamefully on Schubert's " Mar- 
 guerite at the Spinning- Wheel." You know 
 how wonderfully sad and beautiful that is. 
 Bianci was quite pleased at my rendering 
 of the first verse. Then I sang the second, 
 where the music works up climactically and 
 the words run, 
 
 " Sein hoher Gang, sein' edle Gestalt, 
 Seines Mundes Lacheln, seiner Augen Gewalt, 
 
 Und seiner Rede Zauberfluss, 
 Sein Handedruck, und ach, sein Kuss ! " 
 
 At this point Frau Bianci broke off playing, 
 and leaned back in her chair with a sigh. 
 Then she said with cutting sweetness of 
 tone, " The idea of this song is to make 
 your audience cry, not to make them laugh. 
 That word is Lacheln, Lacheln, Ldcheln ! " 
 
 I felt as though I had suddenly shrunk 
 from Marguerite to a naughty child of five. 
 [148] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 Then a sense of rebellion stirred me. I 
 wanted to tell her that I had not been born 
 with a German throat, and that such things 
 as umlauts were a disgrace to any language. 
 However, I controlled myself and said 
 nothing. 
 
 " I think you had better go into Hofre- 
 gisseur Miiller's class," she said. " It will 
 be of great benefit to you. Please attend 
 to-morrow at nine o'clock." 
 
 Very meekly I answered, " Yes, Frau 
 Professor," as I picked up my music and 
 went out, not having the faintest idea 
 who Hofregisseur Muller was, nor what his 
 sonorous title meant. 
 
 At nine the following day I was at the 
 Conservatory. On the stairs I met Miss 
 
 P , a Philadelphia girl who is in my 
 
 piano class. She explained to me that Herr 
 Muller was the Regisseur, that is, the coach 
 for acting at the opera house, and that his 
 class was the Aussprache, or dramatic class, 
 for the vocal students who were to sing in 
 public. She herself is studying for opera 
 and finds her work with him very beneficial. 
 [149] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 IIIIIIIIII 
 
 TTiT i Ti nnnnmum ti iiinriii i iiiiixiiiixixiimnxxiiiT TTTTn 
 
 " But I 'm not going on the stage," said I, 
 quite startled. "What does one have to 
 do?" 
 
 Miss P laughed at my distressed ex- 
 pression. "Why, nothing but read before 
 the class. Your pronunciation is corrected 
 by Herr Miiller. It is just as good as a 
 German lesson," she said. " Oh, by the bye, 
 don't mind if they laugh at you. They 
 always laugh at foreigners." 
 
 With this parting shot as my encourage- 
 ment, I went in. The room, on the upper 
 floor just opposite the hall where we have 
 the chorus rehearsals, is large and barnlike. 
 A grand piano stands in dignified solitude 
 in the centre, and at the end, near the green 
 porcelain stove, is a long table around which 
 the class sits. Herr Miiller has his place at 
 the head. He is an interesting type of 
 man, very portly, with snow-white hair and 
 mustache, and a pair of noticeably keen, 
 speculative eyes. The appreciation of the 
 humorous is strongly marked on his broad 
 features. 
 
 " Eine Amerikanerin ! " he said, smiling, 
 [150] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rT TTTTIT i yTT H IT IItf TITT I I IIir TIIIIIIT IItlllll l lllll l llllllll l H II II IimXm 
 
 as I came in. It is odd how quickly the 
 people here detect our nationality. He 
 motioned me to a chair, then slowly drew a 
 large watch from his pocket and laid it on 
 the table before him. 
 
 " Well, Fraulein, what have you ? " he 
 inquired of the first girl on his left, who 
 promptly handed him the "Bride of Mes- 
 sina" and going to the farther end of the 
 room began to recite shrilly a passage by 
 heart. At every line the Herr Regisseur 
 would thunder forth criticisms in his great, 
 vibrant voice. When her turn, which lasted 
 five minutes, was past, he called on the next 
 girl, a soft- voiced, shrinking creature in a 
 low-necked blouse. She murmured halt- 
 ingly that she had " Das Veilchen" (The 
 Violet). " Ach! Das Vtilchen!" lisped he, 
 with his head on one side, in the same tremu- 
 lous tones. The imitation was such a capital 
 one that we all laughed. In the bare room 
 the effect was that of a hilarious whoop. I 
 began to see what was in store for me. 
 After a few wretched moments I determined 
 to take the whole affair as a joke. There 
 [1511 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rTTTXTTIXTTTTT HH TT HHlHI TTIIXIXIXIIIXIXXXXXXXXXXXXXIXXXXXXXXXIXXXXXIXITn 
 
 were nine girls to be called on before it came 
 my turn, but in what seemed an incredibly 
 short space of time they had all finished and 
 Herr Mliller was calling my name. 
 
 " Recite one verse very slowly," said he. 
 
 " Meine Ruhe ist kin " (My rest is o'er), I 
 began bravely, feeling how poignantly ap- 
 plicable the line was to my present situation. 
 Throughout my recital I could plainly hear 
 titterings from the girls, but I kept my eyes 
 firmly fixed on the picture of Beethoven 
 over the door. When I had finished, Herr 
 Regisseur laid the book down on the table, 
 leaned back in his chair, and laughed. The 
 whole class joined with him. Not to be 
 outdone, I laughed too, albeit somewhat 
 weakly. 
 
 " Now much louder and slower, Frdulein 
 aus Amerika" he said. "Repeat after me, 
 'Meine Ruhe ist hin.'" 
 
 It was the same thing that I had tried 
 with Frau Bianci, only now I enunciated 
 every syllable with painful effort, my voice 
 pitched to fortissimo. 
 
 " Not bad," said he, when I had finished, 
 [ 152] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 mxxxx n ix:x xxiiz xx: : i rxni xiixxix xi:iiii x: xx iri:ii i iirriinin TTTT ii TrTTTTT 
 
 although his eyes twinkled. " Learn another 
 verse for next time." 
 
 We all went over to the Gartner Platz 
 Theatre last week to see " The Geisha." The 
 little opera house is very cosy, but oh ! how 
 strange "The Geisha" sounded in its new 
 word-clothes! From a musical standpoint 
 it was delightfully given, but to my mind 
 the Germans have not snap enough to pro- 
 duce light opera well. We have seen two or 
 three things there, among them Strauss' 
 charming Fleder maus, and have invariably 
 remarked the same thing. The chorus sang 
 excellently, but were selected with absolutely 
 no eye for beauty or grace. And how the 
 Amazons did wear their armor ! They re- 
 minded me more of tired waitresses after a 
 hard day's work than the spirited war-maidens 
 they were supposed to represent. Sparkle, 
 vivacity, delicacy, — all these elements which 
 make light opera what it should be, — were 
 lacking. I am convinced that God created 
 the Germans for grand opera and that in 
 the captivating froth of operettas they are 
 distinctly out of their element. One wishes 
 [153] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 r T tiT TT » »mn T tiit i mT tt THT > it i ; i iT Tt!iiimimiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiii 
 
 he might look into the music of the future 
 and see how the school of the versatile 
 American will eventually evolve ; whether it 
 will be individually characteristic, or blindly 
 content to follow the path laid down by its 
 forerunners across the sea. 
 
 There is splendid skating now in the Eng- 
 lischer Garten. Last Saturday after lessons 
 six of us met at the Sieges Thor with our 
 skates. The ice on the Grosse Hesselohe, 
 the pond at the upper end of the garden, 
 was in excellent condition. At the farther 
 end of it the International Hockey Team, 
 composed of men from the University of 
 Munich and the Polytechnic, was having a 
 match with some strangers. The Germans 
 skate very well and seem devoted to the 
 sport. This seems rather odd to me, as they 
 do not as a rule care for outdoor exercise 
 except walking. Golf is unknown as yet, 
 and although they have a game which they 
 call football, it would hardly be recognized 
 by that name in our country. 
 
 We had a delightful afternoon and came 
 back ravenous for supper. 
 [154] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 m T irnirTT T T»i i i T TM i iiiiin TiTMinmTTTniniiiii l lllliiiiin iii m» ii 
 
 Friday. 
 
 I have n't yet told you what a time I had 
 
 to get the candy S sent. It was the day 
 
 after your bountiful Christmas box came. 
 By the bye, 1 trust you have received our ac- 
 knowledgment of it by this time, and I want 
 to tell you now that the plum pudding was 
 not hurt a particle. The cook steamed it, 
 and we invited all the pensionnaires to share 
 it with us at dinner. If you could have 
 but heard their compliments, you or your 
 cook would certainly have blushed with 
 pride. Why, even Frau von Waldfel con- 
 fessed that, after all, people did have some- 
 thing good to eat in America, a fact she 
 had never formerly believed. But about 
 the candy. 
 
 In my morning's mail I found a Legitima- 
 tions-Karte. Does n't that sound imposing, 
 as though I had graduated with honors 
 from some academy? It really is nothing 
 more than a statement that a package lies 
 in the custom-house waiting to be called 
 for. The office itself is in a large room 
 [155] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 tt »»iTT Tt tm i i ! TTinimriTiTiTiiiiTiimimmmi«minnnMiiTTrm 
 
 like a hall, and full of all sorts of bundles, 
 boxes, and burlap bags, which look like the 
 accumulation of years. The blue-bloused 
 Dienstmann behind the counter found my 
 box for me and cut the string, for which 
 I, of course, gave him a tip. (You know 
 nothing is free in Germany. We have to 
 pay even for our programs at the theatre 
 or opera. 1 ) 
 
 Having concluded this first matter, I 
 walked down a corridor and into the room 
 on the right. Here I took my place at 
 the end of a long line of people. It was 
 certainly twenty minutes before I reached 
 the scales, for all the packages are weighed, 
 you know. With impressive dignity the 
 burly man in charge leisurely weighed my 
 box, recorded the number, and directed me 
 into yet another room. 
 
 Accordingly I made my way to the desk 
 where duties are registered. Here I waited 
 again in line for some time. After all this 
 red tape I fancied I should have to pay 
 at least six marks, but when my turn came 
 
 A universal custom all over Europe. 
 
 [156] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 »»imHl I II!T»Iimilli:iimimtirTiiTTiiniim inm» T iiiin T t tTTTTT 
 
 I found that only forty-five pfennigs were 
 required before I could make my escape. 
 As I began tying my box together yet 
 another of these persistent officers accosted 
 me. 
 
 " Your number," said he, as if I were a 
 freshman taking an entrance examination. 
 I stared at him, then recalled the red figures 
 on my package. 
 
 " Two hundred and two," I said. 
 
 "You must step here," he announced 
 authoritatively. 
 
 I was so tired of stepping this way and 
 that, that my first impulse was to refuse, 
 but for fear that this might mean the sacri- 
 fice of my real American candy, I followed 
 him meekly into the next room, where he 
 solemnly scribbled something in a big black 
 book. Then, with a flourish which shook 
 the gold fringe of his uniform, he handed 
 me a paper. 
 
 " That is all," he said. 
 
 " All ? " I asked. Now that escape seemed 
 so near I doubted its possibility. 
 
 " That is all," lie repeated, with a low 
 L157J 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 ixxxxixrixxrxr] 
 
 CXXIXXXIX XXXXXI XXXX XXXIIIlHimHirtHHTTTTTT HIU lTTTTTT-", 
 
 bow. I turned on my heel and never 
 slackened my pace till I was at the door 
 of the pension. By this ridiculous pro- 
 ceeding I had lost just two hours on 
 my counterpoint. The candy, however, is 
 wonderful ! I never tasted anything more 
 refreshing. Certainly, Germany is no place 
 for candy — nor for doing things quickly, 
 either. 
 
 On the fifteenth came the first production 
 in Germany of the French opera Messidor 
 before a crowded audience at the opera 
 house. The libretto is by Zola and the 
 music by Bruneau. The work is typical of 
 its school, especially in the orchestration. 
 As in some of Massenet's pieces, the trom- 
 bones burst forth every few minutes, as if to 
 say, " Don't fancy for a moment, kind public, 
 that we have gone out for a glass of beer. 
 We never miss but a few bars." The so- 
 called symphonic Legends vom Golde, a 
 symbolic pantomime, if I may so call it, 
 which opens the third act, struck me as 
 unutterably tawdry, but the last scene had 
 a perfectly charming setting, and the climax 
 [ 158 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 miniimnmurm 
 
 mmnxzi.i nii"rni':iTTTT m i i i mn mr 
 
 was very effective. At the final curtain 
 the composer was called out several times, 
 but the opinion of the audience seemed to 
 be divided, for although the applause was 
 plentiful, continued hissing from the oppo- 
 nents of the French school was distinctly 
 audible. Bruneau is tall and slight, with 
 black pointed beard and waxed mustache. 
 He responded in several constrained little 
 bows, as though charmed with the applause, 
 and as if utterly unconscious of any less 
 complimentary sounds. 
 
 We are hearing much talk of balls and 
 frivolity, for the carnival is just begin- 
 ning. Already the Baron is planning to 
 make up a large party for something, 
 and of course I shall write you all about 
 it. Louise and Edith are coming over 
 to do ear-training to-night at eight, and 
 it is already time for supper, so this must 
 end my letter for to-day. All good wishes 
 for you. 
 
 M. 
 
 Do you know the " Beethoven-Lied " by 
 Cornelius ? The greater part of it is com- 
 [159] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 e T IH I ITI T I IIIIIII I III IIIITII I III I IITItlllTIII ITIHHII TIlII T H I HIlm ilTryi 
 
 posed of the principal theme of the first 
 movement of the Eroica Symphony. We 
 sang it in the chorus hour on Thursday. I 
 should think it might be a splendid thing 
 for your club to work at. 
 
 [160] 
 
:rrigllllllililiiiiiiiriiiTiriiiiziiii i iiiiTiTT;i;iTiTTT iTii Ti i TTm-rrrr 
 
 VI 
 
 IIlI^IIlIIllIIIIIIIirillllTIIIIIIIIIIIITIIIITIIIIITimTTTT IIi r T IIITTTT-rH 
 
TTTiiTT i i i Tti imi TiT i T iiiixiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiir i i i i x i iii m iii ii i i rrT 
 
 February jfr. 
 Du Uebcs Cecilchen : — 
 
 /'D GIVE EVERY PFENNIG IN 
 my possession to walk into your study 
 to-day and take you by surprise. In 
 fact, I have stopped in the very midst of 
 my orchestration lesson to tell you so. My 
 chord of the seventh is unresolved, my flutes 
 and oboes are hanging in midair, and my 
 horns are blowing away on the fifth, all be- 
 cause a wave of the Indescribable swept 
 over me, and I simply had to throw down 
 my pencil and talk to you ! 
 
 The preliminary symptoms of this abomi- 
 nable Something appeared this morning when 
 my mail failed to arrive. Then after three 
 hours' hard work on a new fugue-subject, 
 I came to the conclusion that what I had 
 written was absolutely worthless, and thrust 
 it in the waste-paper basket. In the after- 
 noon no letters came, but several news- 
 papers, whose essential feature consisted in 
 describing varied and brilliant festivities at 
 home. I could not repress a sigh as I read. 
 [163] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rTTTTTTTT III I II I I I lII I IXIIIXIIXII I I?III I IIIIXIII I IIIII I I I I T IIIIIII I t TTTTTT T n 
 
 Finally Georg came bowing in with the 
 announcement that the opera for the even- 
 ing had been changed and Der Freischutz 
 substituted for " Lohengrin." I felt like 
 throwing my ink-well at the Obelisk, run- 
 ning down to the booking office in Prom- 
 enade-Platz, and engaging a passage to 
 America on the spot. 
 
 Not that I was really angry with the 
 Obelisk, for I have but one dearer friend in 
 all Munich, and that is the Fountain. The 
 latter, however, no longer sings as I pass. 
 It has, as it were, retired for the season, and 
 a hideous paling of gray boards hides it com- 
 pletely from view. Such is the inartistic 
 effect of winter. I can't tell you how much 
 I miss its ever sympathetic, ever beautiful 
 voice. Indeed, so barren and desolate is the 
 upper end of the Platz, that I changed my 
 route of walking and thus came to make the 
 acquaintance of the Obelisk. Not only do 
 I pass by daily, but whenever I look out of 
 my window I can see in the distance its 
 slender, black shaft sharply outlined against 
 the sky. Strange, is it not, with what a 
 [164] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 nrrTTTTTIIXIIIIIIIIITIIIIIIIIITIITIIITIIIIIlIIIIIIIIHIIIT lIlI tl HTt l l llTTTT ! 
 
 keenly human note inanimate things some- 
 times appeal to us ? Just as I hear and love 
 the Voice in the Fountain, so I draw a 
 feeling of protection from this towering 
 creation of stone, as though a kindly sentinel 
 were standing guard over me and mine. 
 
 Since my mood to-day is gray in color, I 
 am going to tell you of the gayest thing 
 which has happened since I wrote, namely, 
 a gorgeous masked ball, for you know it is 
 carnival season now and frivolity reigns su- 
 preme. I have been working so constantly 
 lately — for my long lessons with Thuille 
 and the work at the school take practically 
 every moment of my time — that the ball 
 seemed like an extraordinary piece of dissi- 
 pation. Therefore I was quite excited as I 
 joined the party of pensionnaires in the salon 
 on Tuesday evening. What a cosmopolitan 
 lot we were ! The curious jumble of German, 
 French, Italian, and English was laughable. 
 The stout American and her pocket-edition 
 of a husband have departed and given place 
 to two Italian women who converse equally 
 well in three languages. The Poet's Wife 
 [165] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 »I T HI ItI I T t T IIXI TT HI T ITH II I I IIIITITIIIIIII IIIIIIir i I I IIIIIIIIII II I irir Tn 
 
 always speaks perfect French with Herr 
 Doktor, which won his heart long ago. Of 
 course we were all chatting of the frolic to 
 come as we clambered into the droschkies 
 awaiting us at the door. The ball, it seems, 
 was given under the auspices of the press. 
 The Baron had obtained invitations for us 
 through a member of the Jugend staff. 
 (The Jugend is that very artistic periodi- 
 cal which you have perhaps seen.) There 
 were so many of us that a box had been 
 engaged, for the affair was held at one of 
 the theatres. 
 
 Every one who attended was obliged to 
 wear a costume representing some feature 
 pertaining to the woods, and it required no 
 little thought to design something original 
 and effective. Fraulein Hartmann and I 
 had decided to go as flowers, and Miitter- 
 chen and the Poet's Wife put their heads 
 together and created a Rose gown and a 
 Violet gown. Frau von Waldfel was so 
 agitated over her own costume that she 
 quite forgot to criticise ours. She had chosen 
 to represent a bee, and had arrayed herself 
 [166] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 n i ni iii:iIIIIIIII i : ilir:i I IIIIIIi:iIllllllliiiinrir T;ri TTtTTi i: ; ! t TTTT-rm 
 
 in black netting. On her head was a crown 
 of black and yellow, and from her shoulders 
 hung, or should have hung, a pair of gauze 
 wings. But something went wrong, and the 
 wings, instead of suggesting airy flittings 
 through space, drooped at a curious angle 
 and gave the impression that they were not 
 mates. However, her distress was mitigated 
 by the Baroness, who declared that the cos- 
 tume was "wonderfully becoming," and as 
 soon as she arrived she forgot to worry 
 about her wings in the excitement of the 
 ball itself. 
 
 What a fascinating sight burst upon us as 
 we stepped inside the ballroom ! The whole 
 place was alive with a dancing crowd of 
 fairies, gnomes, flowers, butterflies, and dry- 
 ads, who flitted past in a bewildering whirl 
 of ever changing color. All the women 
 wore little black masks, which gave them a 
 most coquettish appearance. The men were 
 not masked, but their costumes were fully as 
 artistic. As I watched the glittering throng 
 moving to the strains of a fascinating waltz 
 which came floating out from behind a grove 
 [ 167 I 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 tT mT T TTTT TiT iT i m iiiTttiimiiiimmm;mmiHinn»iiTTnmtiiTTin 
 
 of evergreens on the stage, I could easily- 
 fancy I was in fairyland. 
 
 Just as we were about to cross the hall 
 Fraulein Hartmann caught me by the arm. 
 
 " I 've torn my gown," she said in a hur- 
 ried, excited manner, as she held up the 
 ragged ruffle on the edge of her train. " I 
 must go to the dressing-room and fix it. 
 Will you tell my aunt ? And oh ! please 
 say it may take twenty minutes or — or a 
 half-hour." 
 
 I looked at her in surprise. Her cheeks 
 were flushed brilliantly, and I would have 
 given much to have seen the expression of 
 her eyes, which her mask half hid. 
 
 " Why, if you would let me help you " 
 
 I began, but she interrupted, pressing my 
 arm tighter. 
 
 " Let me go alone, please, kleine Ameri- 
 kanerin." Her voice was pleading and 
 oddly intense. " It 's only such a short time 
 — and, believe me, there is nothing wrong, 
 really. I shall thank you always." 
 
 Before I had an opportunity to reply she 
 had slipped away in the crowd. To say I 
 [168] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 :TITTTTTTTTTTTTTtTTTTTTTTTITITTTTTITTTT:lIIIIIIIIITIITTI?XTTTTTT IIII IITTTTTT1 
 
 was amazed were to put it mildly. I was 
 dumfounded. Two points alone seemed 
 clear in my mind : first, that Fraulein Hart- 
 mann had no idea of spending a half-hour in 
 sewing on a few inches of ruffle ; second, that 
 whatever her motive for remaining away 
 might be, it was " nothing wrong " ; her 
 frank, sweet nature utterly forbade such an 
 idea. 
 
 Rather troubled, I caught up quickly with 
 the others of the party and entered the. box 
 to find Lieutenant Blum and Lieutenant 
 Linder waiting. They looked surprised at 
 seeing me alone, and I hastily explained the 
 situation. Lieutenant Linder then suggest- 
 ed that we three take a stroll about the hall, 
 and we started off, I talking very rapidly, in 
 the hope of turning their attention from the 
 Fraulein's continued absence. I would not 
 have been a woman had I not myself been a 
 bit curious about her. We made a tour of 
 the room and at length came to the head of 
 a flight of stairs. I declared that I was 
 dying of curiosity to discover what lay at 
 the foot, so we descended and found our- 
 [169] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 tTITTT HIH TII I I I TTt t I T?I I T TTTITIIIHIIIIIIITIIIiriIIIIIIIIIIIIIi;iTTHTTTm 
 
 selves in the very midst of a forest. On 
 every side extended paths lined with trees 
 whose branches met above in arches. At 
 the end of one of the paths we saw a log 
 hut. Above, through interlaced branches, 
 shone a silver moon. I could not help ex- 
 claiming at the beauty of the illusion. 
 
 There were countless little arbors and 
 retreats where couples were sitting out 
 dances. We had just started to turn down 
 the path to the right, when I caught sight 
 of a rose-colored dress in one of these arbors. 
 A step farther and I saw that the girl lean- 
 ing against the bench was Fraulein Hart- 
 mann. Her head was thrown back in a 
 characteristic attitude and her lips were 
 parted, as though eagerly listening to the 
 words of her companion. He — for of 
 course it was a man — was a broad- 
 shouldered fellow, with a smooth face and a 
 sword-cut on his forehead. Bending for- 
 ward, he looked up intently into the face of 
 the girl, talking very earnestly, very rapidly, 
 as if pleading a case under pressure of time. 
 
 Quick as a flash I wheeled about and 
 [170] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 [IIIITIIIIITIIXTIIIIIIIIIIIlIIIIIIIIIXIIIlIIIIIIIIIiririlllTItir tlllll TTTTITl 
 
 faced the others, for the path was only 
 broad enough for us to proceed in single file. 
 I declared this walk stupid ; the hut was 
 the only thing really worth seeing ; where- 
 upon my bodyguard, although laughing at 
 the capriciousness of my sex, obediently 
 followed. How long I lingered about that 
 wretched hut 1 can't say. At last, when 
 every pretext was gone, I made my way 
 back again upstairs. What a sigh of re- 
 lief I gave when we reached the box, for 
 there sat Fraulein Hartmann, smiling in her 
 sweet, plaintive fashion, and talking to her 
 aunt and Herr Doktor with the utmost self- 
 possession. A moment later we had whirled 
 away among the dancers, and I did not have 
 an opportunity to exchange a word with her 
 alone. 
 
 At twelve o'clock the orchestra stopped 
 playing for an hour and supper was served. 
 Half of the people had been eating and 
 drinking the entire evening, for tables had 
 been spread in the boxes from the opening 
 of the ball. This did not, however, seem to 
 make any difference in the keenness of their 
 [171] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 t TTT»TT» m T»TiiiT iii T»t» »iiiiiTTiii i imi iiiiiiniimi x i i m i i:iii ix » iin 
 
 appetites now. We had a very jolly time 
 in our box, for beside the pensionnaires were 
 several Americans. Among them were Mr. 
 and Mrs. Albert Sterner. You are doubt- 
 less familiar with the delightful work of Mr. 
 Sterner. He has won considerable reputa- 
 tion, especially for his illustrations. Both 
 he and his wife added much merriment to 
 the party, for they are very entertaining. 
 The ball began again at one, but no one 
 thought of going home till four o'clock. 
 We left Lieutenant Linder still dancing. 
 
 " This lasts till five," he explained, as he 
 took us to our carriage. " I shall get a cup 
 of coffee at the restaurant, change to my 
 uniform, and be ready for Dienst (service) at 
 six. I really haven't time to go to bed." 
 
 I captured two very pretty souvenirs of 
 the occasion, one of which you shall have to 
 decorate your den. Every one who went 
 down on the floor wore a favor made of blue 
 ribbon, fastened with a gold head of Folly. 
 Lieutenant Linder and Herr Martens both 
 presented me with theirs, and in spite of 
 acquiring a habit for greediness, I smilingly 
 [172] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 mmm ii nnimm»i» l llii»imni mmmnmmni T t i tiinit »T n Tl 
 
 accepted both, with a thought for you. 
 They will look extremely well tacked to 
 an American wall. 
 
 I did so wash for a word with Friiulein, 
 but she drove home alone with her aunt. 
 As I wrote you, I only see her at table, and 
 so any conversation of a confidential character 
 is out of the question. She is not a girl to 
 practise deception, unless forced by circum- 
 stances, hence I fancy that there is some- 
 thing of a serious nature behind her action. 
 Evidently the handsome young man with 
 the sword-cut is the key to the mystery! 
 Very likely she is in love with him, instead 
 of with that disagreeable Blum. Were she 
 an American girl it would not take her long 
 to throw over the uniform and marry the 
 man she loves ; as it is, with her family and 
 an officer weighing the balance on the 
 opposite side of the scales, I fear the stu- 
 dent's chances are not the most favorable. 
 
 After Supper. 
 
 At my last lesson Thuille informed me 
 that he and Tasso were going hunting 
 [173] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 H II»TttITtITI HHI TTTTTII I! t TT TT»T»tII IITITI I III I II I IIIIIIlII IIIIIXIXim m3 
 
 on Saturday. Would I pardon him if 
 he gave me my lesson in his hunting 
 costume ? Accordingly to-day he appeared 
 in a wonderful green shirt striped with 
 white, and open at the neck. His jacket, 
 short trousers and gaiters were of some 
 rough cloth, and the effect was decidedly 
 unprofessional. 
 
 The train left directly after the lesson, 
 and Tasso was evidently quite alive to the 
 fact, for instead of sleeping under the desk 
 as he usually does, he roamed about restlessly 
 during the entire hour, and finally became 
 so importunate that his master unceremoni- 
 ously put him out. I had taken in a prac- 
 tice piece scored for wood-wind and horn, 
 including bass clarinet and contra-fagott. 
 The ideas on which I had written the part 
 for bass clarinet were suggested by that 
 bit for the instrument in the third act of 
 " Siegfried " where Brunnhilde is wakened 
 by the all-powerful kiss. Unfortunately my 
 result was not what might have been called 
 an unqualified success. In one measure I 
 had put a rest at the second beat, after 
 [174] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 writing two notes. This immediately at- 
 tracted Thuille's attention. 
 
 " Why, you Ve left him hanging in the 
 air ! Poor fellow, he 's hanging in the 
 air between heaven and earth ! " he said 
 laughing, but not unkindly. I thought 
 I ought to laugh too, so I joined in, 
 nervously. It is queer how much more 
 humorously these things strike one after 
 a lesson than at the time they actually 
 happen. 
 
 " This is the way he would have to play 
 that," continued the professor. He puckered 
 up his mouth, held his fingers exactly as the 
 player would, squinted at my score with his 
 head on one side, and blew two notes, 
 " Poom ! Poom ! " Then he took the 
 imaginary instrument suddenly away while 
 his mouth seemed to be forming the same 
 tone. He looked so funny that this time I 
 could not help laughing heartily, and I saw 
 my mistake at once. 
 
 Later we came to a horn passage, and in 
 place of the mildly flowing chords in half- 
 notes which I had written he substituted 
 [ W5 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 H IlIIIIIIilllilXXIIXXXI XIXIXIilXIllXXIIIIIIIIIIXIIlIIHTTTII IIIirT I I I IIITTTT 
 
 eighth-note phrases. " I thought that would 
 be too fast," said I, in self-defence. 
 
 " Study modern scores ! " he exclaimed. 
 " Study modern horn parts ! But don't 
 forget the classics either ; and never study 
 Schumann or Brahms for orchestral writing. 
 They were both poor scorers." 
 
 I sometimes wish he employed similes in 
 his explanations ; they have such a way of 
 sticking in my head and making me remem- 
 ber. I recall now an especially vivid one 
 which Chadwick once made to his orchestral 
 class : " Here you have your instruments 
 of the orchestra just like so many colors on 
 a palette," he said. " You combine different 
 ones just as you mix your colors, to obtain a 
 desired effect. Your task is to make a com- 
 plete, finished picture. Choose your subject 
 and go ahead, but take care to select your 
 materials wisely." 
 
 If you remember, Professor John K. Paine 
 has also a fondness for illustrating his 
 point in this manner, only he chooses litera- 
 ture instead of art as the source from which 
 to draw his comparisons. I can see us now 
 [176] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 Liiixfiiiiiiiii i TriiiiiiiTi i iii i iTiiii i riiiiiiir i iii i iiiiiiiiiniiiinn TTTTi 
 
 sitting side by side in that dingy little room 
 in Vaughan House before the new music 
 room existed, taking notes on his lectures, 
 and can hear him saying, " Beethoven is 
 the Shakespeare of music." Do you re- 
 member the day when Miss R brought 
 
 her dog into the class, and Professor Paine, 
 after peering at it mildly over his glasses 
 from his seat behind the table, made some 
 witty remark about the increased interest in 
 his lectures which now drew the very beasts 
 to hear him ? And later, how kindly but 
 
 firmly he insisted that Miss R leave 
 
 her pet at home hereafter, inasmuch as he 
 had already punctuated his paper on Haydn, 
 and he did not consider the assistance of the 
 dog, who broke in every now and then with 
 sharp barks, at all necessary. 
 
 As soon as the lesson was over I hurried 
 home, for Miltterchen and I had seats for 
 the Zauberflote that evening. We had 
 an early supper in our rooms, for the opera 
 began at half-past six. I had not heard a 
 Mozart opera since last September, when 
 the Mozart-cycle was held in the Residenz 
 12 [ 177 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 C X X X XXXXXXXXX X XX X XXXX X XXIXXXXXXXXXX X XX X XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX X X X XXXXX X XZXXXZXZ X XXXXJ 
 
 Theatre. Then I enjoyed Cosi fan tutte, 
 with Fritzi Scheffas Despina. The Residenz 
 Theatre is an ideal place to hear Mozart. 
 It is only large enough to seat eight hun- 
 dred persons, and the orchestra sounds most 
 effective. The Hof Theatre is too large for 
 the production of Mozart's operas. After 
 one act of the Zauberflbte I began to find 
 the orchestra thin and somewhat monoto- 
 nous. When the music is really so beauti- 
 ful, it seems a pity not to give it under the 
 best conditions. 
 
 Fraulein Hartmann and her aunt sat just 
 across from us in the balcony. I hoped 
 that we might all walk home together, but 
 when we met at the door afterwards there 
 was Lieutenant Blum, important and self- 
 satisfied, waiting to escort them. 
 
 Good night now, my dear. 
 
 Fasching-Dienstag 
 
 (Shrove Tuesday). 
 
 Miinchen gone mad ! Miinchen with 
 dignity thrown to the winds and cavorting 
 [178] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 " ""'IITTTTT inilUllHTiniiiiMtTiiiiii mm ,,,,,, n, ,,.. TT] 
 
 in the dress of a clown ! Miinchen laughing, 
 dancing, fairly shrieking with pure glee! 
 The misty atmosphere through which one 
 always views the distant majesty of the 
 Maximileum as one looks down Maximilian- 
 strasse is curiously filled with a new sort of 
 snowflake, a tiny, square atom which may 
 be red or green or the most vivid of yellows. 
 The sidewalks are packed with a half-crazed 
 throng, some in vari-colored costumes, 
 others in street dress, but all pelting one 
 another with confetti, while the street 
 itself is crowded with slow-moving lines of 
 carriages whose occupants join no less wildly 
 in the fun. And all this because it is the 
 last day of the carnival. 
 
 My first glimpse of the frolic to come 
 was afforded me on Saturday. I was deep 
 in the midst of a canonic imitation when 
 there came a knock on the door and in burst 
 Karl, radiant, his cheeks aglow with ex- 
 citement. He was dressed in a wonderful 
 costume, which consisted of a loose white 
 shirt with black silk pompons down the 
 front, white trousers, a gigantic white 
 [179] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 it t»M»niniiimni T tM Timim»miniiiimimiimimmnimnn 
 
 ruff about the neck and a high pointed 
 hat. 
 
 " Bin ick nicht nett, gnddiges Fraulein ? " 
 (Am I not fine ?) he cried, kissing my hand 
 with mock deference and prancing about 
 the study. " Just wait till you see me to- 
 morrow ! Then I am to have a grand 
 mustache and all kinds of red and green 
 designs painted on my cheeks ! " 
 
 He grinned with delight at the thought 
 of these cannibalistic decorations, which, 
 however, struck me as more appropriate 
 for a circus than a Sunday promenade. 
 
 To-day Miitterchen, the Baroness, Herr 
 Martens, and I took a carriage before the 
 house at two o'clock. One's first carnival 
 is not a thing to be taken calmly and I was 
 all excitement, staring to right and left, and 
 craning my neck in my endeavor not to 
 miss anything. On every corner we passed 
 stood old women and men with little push- 
 carts full of bright-colored bags of confetti 
 or baskets of Luft-Schlangen (long paper 
 streamers done up in small rolls, to be 
 thrown through the air like those we have 
 [180] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rTTTrT»T i i T TtT»t»» iii i iTtiiiixiiiiii iiiiinm i: » iiiiiii:iiixiiii i : n ixiiigi 
 
 at the Harvard Class Day exercises around 
 the statue). For ten pfennigs (two and 
 one-half cents) one could obtain a generous 
 supply, and following the Baroness' sugges- 
 tion, we stocked the carriage well. 
 
 We found the streets already so crowded 
 that we were forced to proceed very slowly 
 towards Max-Joseph-Platz. Just as we 
 reached the post-office a horn blew sharply, 
 policemen hurriedly pushed back the crowd, 
 and the First and Second Cavalry regiment 
 officers came galloping by us and on down 
 the street between the two long lines of 
 carriages. Their appearance was most gro- 
 tesque. Dressed as clowns, in suits of 
 black or white, their painted faces made 
 them all look alike. With snapping whips 
 they urged on their horses at full speed. 
 The excited animals seemed to enjoy the 
 fun as much as their riders, and shook their 
 gayly ribboned manes proudly. 
 
 Hardly had we started again, for our car- 
 riage had come to a halt to let them pass, 
 when I heard a familiar voice cry, " Hola ! " 
 and as I turned to see who was shouting, a 
 [181] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 nni»T»tiiniiniTiTMmTmiii»in;iiiiTi inminiiiiTmmii i n»T T T i 
 
 handful of confetti was thrown straight in 
 my face. For a moment I was angry, for 
 the sensation of eyes and mouth suddenly 
 full of paper is not conducive to amiability. 
 Then, realizing the absurdity of losing my 
 temper at such a time, I dived my hand 
 into a bag to retaliate on my antagonist. 
 Before I could discover him another shot 
 landed in the back of my neck and over my 
 hat a Luft-Schlange came floating. 
 
 " Caught you that time, gnddigcs Frtiu- 
 lein" said a voice, and I met the laughing 
 glance of Karl, who jumped on the step 
 of our carriage and rode along with us. 
 His white costume was sadly soiled, but 
 he had fulfilled all his promises as to the 
 horrible wonder of a painted mustache 
 and streaked cheeks. A North American 
 Indian could not have improved on him. 
 
 " I 've ridden up and down five times al- 
 ready," he said, as he jumped off to pay a 
 similar visit to some friends just across. 
 
 " There 's Lou and the girls," I cried, 
 catching sight of a carriage in the opposite 
 line coming up the street as we went down. 
 [182] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 Having learned my lesson I was not slow 
 to put it in practice, for standing up in the 
 carriage I pelted them mercilessly, Herr 
 Martens supplying me with a fresh bag 
 every time I needed one, and the Baroness 
 joining enthusiastically in the attack. 
 
 It was not a one-sided battle, for the girls 
 were quick to return our shots, and the aim 
 of the little Italian count who was with 
 them was excellent. You should have seen 
 our carriage when they were finally out of 
 range. The floor, up to our shoe-tops, was 
 filled with confetti ; our jackets were cov- 
 ered with it, and from the shoulders of the 
 driver, from our hats, from the sides of the 
 carriage hung countless brilliant streamers. 
 
 At the big statue we turned and came 
 back. When we finally succeeded in reach- 
 ing the post-office we found a most excit- 
 ing thing taking place. A company of 
 clowns on horseback, whom we recognized 
 as the cavalry officers who had earlier passed 
 us, were forming in line at the farther end 
 of the Platz. Suddenly they set off with 
 brisk canter, swung around the statue of 
 [ 183 | 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 nim iiiiii t i i ti iiii i iiiiiiiT ii ri ii ii iiiiiiii i i i i i iii iii i i iiii n iii i iii irm 
 
 Max Joseph, and dashed at full speed up 
 the high flight of stairs leading to the opera 
 house ! They came back rushing down the 
 driveway. The horses were almost beside 
 themselves with excitement, for their officers 
 leaning far forward, brandished their whips, 
 dug in their spurs, and urged on the beasts 
 by frantic shouts and exclamations, while 
 the crowd of onlookers cheered wildly. It 
 was a thrilling sight, and I watched them 
 breathlessly. I could not help feeling that 
 at any moment one of these half-crazed 
 creatures, now flecked with foam, might lose 
 his balance and fall backwards down the 
 steps crushing his rider beneath, and so I 
 gave a relieved sigh as I saw the men at last 
 dismount, give their quivering steeds to an 
 orderly, and adjourn to the cafe' opposite. 
 Just then the Baron and Herr Doktor, who 
 were walking, came up to our carriage. 
 
 " We '11 take you into the cafe for a mo- 
 ment," said the Baron. " It is apt to grow 
 rather rough there later, but you must get a 
 glimpse of another side of the carnival." 
 
 Accordingly, well barricaded by the gentle- 
 [184] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 ^^^*^i n iiii iiimiiuiiiiii T miiiiniiMTTiiiii...... TrT 1 ,, ,,, tIrT . T ^ 
 
 men, we quietly entered the cafe and took 
 the only vacant table which stood in a 
 retired corner. Here again the officers had 
 undisputed possession of the place. They 
 were laughing, dancing and singing in a bois- 
 terous though not at all in an offensive fashion. 
 Meanwhile an orchestra in the centre of the 
 room played some lively music. 
 
 " Your selection pleaseth me but poorly," 
 declaimed a tall fellow with a blue ruff 
 about his neck, as he tapped on the shoulder 
 of the director. "Why not soothe our ears 
 with a ditty akin to this ? " whistling one of 
 the popular student airs. He seized the 
 baton and mounted the platform, rapping 
 sharply on the rack. The players, entering 
 into the spirit of the thing, followed him 
 perfectly. This was not so simple a matter 
 as it sounds, for he conducted with a ridicu- 
 lous exaggeration of all the mannerism, ges- 
 tures and poses of Weingartner. It was 
 very cleverly done and set every one into 
 roars of laughter, especially when the fellow 
 insisted on a pianissimo passage. Then he 
 would tilt back his head, wave his left hand 
 [186] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rTIT»TII I I I I I I I TTT I I XIXIXII X XXXXX X IXXX X IX lIl X XXI I IX rXIXX I IXIXXlIXXIXXX XXXm; 
 
 with that curious droop of the finger-tips so 
 characteristic of the great conductor, and 
 nonchalantly beat time with his stick at an 
 angle directed towards heaven. 
 
 No sooner had he finished and returned 
 with low bows of mock modesty to his place, 
 than an officer in the corner jumped on top 
 of a table and, stein in hand, began singing. 
 The crowd, who had gathered around him, 
 joined in the refrain, clinking their mugs 
 together, for of course every one was drinking 
 beer — fa va sans dire. If an officer chanced 
 to be without any, he made his way to a 
 table where some onlookers were sitting, and 
 with a courteous " beg pardon," and a grace- 
 ful raising of the pointed cap, helped him- 
 self to the largest stein from under the very 
 nose of its owner, and walked serenely off. 
 No one seemed to mind this, the original 
 possessor of the beer least of all, for he 
 laughed heartily, and ordered the waiter to 
 bring him a fresh supply. The established 
 rule of the carnival is to take everything in 
 the greatest good humor and let the spirit 
 of fun prevail. 
 
 [186] 
 
An ^American Girl in Munich 
 
 44 To your very good health ! May you 
 live long, be prosperous, and see many carni- 
 vals ! " said another fellow as he helped him- 
 self to a stranger's wine and raised the glass 
 to his lips. 
 
 "That's Count von E ," said the 
 
 Baroness in a whisper, as he set down the 
 glass, bowing gravely. " I should know his 
 peculiar walk anywhere." 
 
 " It was certainly most interesting," said 
 I, as after watching the frolic for half an 
 hour we walked out into Perusia-strasse. 
 
 " You don't have anything half as jolly 
 in America, do you?" said Herr Martens, 
 with a tone of superiority in his voice. 
 Whenever any one addresses me with that 
 inflection my spread-eagleism is aroused. 
 I immediately began to dilate on America 
 and the American. This time I chose as 
 my theme " Fourth of July," which of all 
 our celebrations seemed nearest akin to this, 
 and my glowing description of the manifold 
 features of Independence Day caused the 
 carnival to seem like a children's festival. 
 Did I write you that the Americans in the 
 [187] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 pTTTTIIITIIIIIIIT*TTTI» III TTTTT""tTTITITIIITITIIIIIIIIITririIIITIIIltirra 
 
 pension opposite were to give a St. Valen- 
 tine's iparty ? Owing to illness it was post- 
 poned to the evening of Fasching Dienstag. 
 Accordingly we finished our day by a dance 
 and general frolic with the girls, which was 
 one of the j oiliest things I have been to this 
 year. This letter is so full of frivolity that 
 to tell you of my doings in a musical way 
 seems most incongruous, so I will save all 
 such items for my next. 
 
 As ever, dear Cecy, 
 
 M. 
 
 [188] 
 
ngnmnnmimmggxmimm mimmimmmmmma] 
 
 VII 
 
 .i»»mH ll HHTlTrillIIIITITlimiTIIT!TH»»tTtTT tI»tTI» TT T r 
 
i i i niT tii iiiii i in i m T i iTi iim t tTt iitiTHHnim Ti iumm i mTT rTTT T 
 
 TTTI TIIIIIIITIIIXITIIIIIIXIIII I IIIIIIIIIIIIIIirm 
 
 March 3, 10.30 P. Af. 
 
 /HAVE JUST RETURNED 
 from the Modcrner Abend at the 
 Kaim Saal, and am so excited that to 
 go calmly to bed and to sleep is an impossi- 
 bility. I don't know when I have enjoyed 
 anything as much. The concert, as you 
 may have judged by the name, was made 
 up of compositions by living composers. 
 Stavenhagen arranged it and all the num- 
 bers but one were played for the first time. 
 Here is the program : 
 
 1. Singspiel Overture .... Edgar Istel. 
 
 First time ! 
 
 2. Ein Zmeigespr'cich, Tone-poem. Max Schillings. 
 (For solo violin, solo Velio, and small orchestra.) 
 
 [Richard Rettich — Heinrich Warnke.] 
 
 First time ! 
 
 3. Scene and Monologue of 
 
 Lukas from the Opera Dcr 
 
 Conegidor Hugo Wolf. 
 
 [Anton Dressier.] 
 
 First time ! 
 
 [191] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 in»i ti nT ;i i iTi Tni ! »»M Miini»»miniimimmmimm»mimi 
 
 4. Klavierkonzert (op. 6) in B flat 
 
 minor Felix vom Rath. 
 
 [Anna Langenhan-Hirzel.] 
 
 5. III. Act of Gugeline .... Ludwig Thuille. 
 
 [Gugeline, Agnes Stavenhagen. The Prince, 
 Franz Bergen.] 
 
 First time ! 
 
 The names in brackets are those of the 
 soloists. For some reason or other the or- 
 der was altered. Thuille's piece and Hugo 
 Wolfs changed places. Edgar Istel, who 
 conducted his own overture, is a tall, broad- 
 shouldered, fine-looking young fellow, and 
 a pupil of Thuille. I am in doubt as to 
 his nationality for he certainly looks too 
 well groomed for a German. The Schillings 
 piece was a lovely, sustained thing. That 
 man certainly knows how to write for the 
 'cello ! We heard his opera Ingwelde 
 last week, and remarked the same thing 
 then. The third number was, however, the 
 number of the evening. I wish I could de- 
 scribe to you the enchanting beauty of this 
 music from Gugeline — its delicacy, fresh- 
 ness, and tenderness. And yet withal there 
 [192] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 mmm iiii : i iii ii mn i ii iimmim miiiiii ; iniiiiniTTrimMM r»T T Ti 
 
 is no semblance of insipidity about it, for in 
 spite of the dominance of fanciful, graceful 
 motifs the music every now and then as- 
 sumes a more passionate tinge, as though an 
 undercurrent of deeper feeling flowed be- 
 neath its charming surface. Agnes Staven- 
 hagen, the wife of the director, sang with 
 great niceness. Thuille has a trick of end- 
 ing a phrase by a jump to a high pianissimo 
 note, and she rendered this most effectively. 
 Prejudiced as I naturally was in favor of 
 my Maestro, I was not alone in my enthu- 
 siasm, for at the close of the piece the audi- 
 ence burst into a storm of applause, cheering, 
 stamping, and crying " Bravo ! Bravo ! " 
 "Thuille! Thuille!" The whole house 
 rose as one person. Thuille, who had been 
 sitting about eight rows back, at length 
 came forward. He did not mount the stage, 
 but remained below the conductors stand, 
 bowing and smiling in the delightful, un- 
 affected fashion peculiar to him. Again and 
 again he was recalled, the audience remain- 
 ing standing and applauding. Clearly, aside 
 from his musical ability, he is a great 
 13 [ 193 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 niiiiiiiiiimnminiiixiii iiiiiiii i iiiiiiiiiiiixiiiiixi iiimiiii r Tzxxxn 
 
 favorite in Munich. When the tempest 
 had at last subsided and we had settled 
 back into our places, Frau Langenhan-Hirzel 
 appeared to play the concerto of vom Rath. 
 Her entrance was the signal for a fresh out- 
 burst of applause, and there was no more 
 enthusiastic group in the hall than ours in 
 the east corner, for Polly, Edith, and Louise 
 are all her pupils and loyally adore her. 
 "Frau Langenhan," as they generally call 
 her, looked very young as she took her place 
 at the piano. She is slight, and her short 
 black hair curls roguishly about her head, 
 while a pair of dark, innocent eyes give her 
 an almost childlike appearance. But how- 
 ever youthful she may seem, she plays with 
 a mastery and force unusual in a woman. 
 Lescheticsky is proud of her I hear, and one 
 can readily see why. The concerto itself is 
 most brilliant and was originally composed 
 and dedicated to her. Long and prolonged 
 applause followed its close. Frau Langen- 
 han-Hirzel bowed repeatedly, and at length 
 vom Rath came forward and joined her. 
 He is tall, with extremely light hair. In 
 [194] " 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 tTIII HH TII IIIITT IT I I IIIIII ITII I I III I HIlIlII I IIIII IIIII I I IXII H IISIXIXXIin 
 
 spite of his dignified bearing he was blush- 
 ing up to his ears with embarrassment, and 
 looked greatly relieved to sit down. 
 
 As for the last number, we had forgotten 
 all about it, for we started impetuously off 
 to the green room. When we entered, 
 there was the little pianist calmly smoking a 
 cigarette and carelessly shaking her black 
 curls from to time with a characteristic 
 movement of the head. The girls rushed 
 enthusiastically up to her. After the first 
 eager words of congratulation they presented 
 me, and she was most cordial in her greet- 
 ing as she turned and shook hands, hold- 
 ing her cigarette in her fingers. Quite a 
 number of the German women smoke 
 and she does so constantly, in fact even 
 when giving lessons, which goes ahead of 
 Thuille. 
 
 But my head all the time was full of 
 Grugelinc — how could one forget it? — 
 and I looked about for Thuille. He was 
 talking to Stavenhagen in the corner, with 
 his back towards me. A moment later he 
 turned, and as I went forward with out- 
 [195] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 stretched hand he met me half way. The 
 beauty of his music had so intensely moved 
 me, that I grew excited when I endeavored 
 to congratulate him, and my German flew 
 away as if on wings. I could only murmur 
 stupidly something about " wunderschon" 
 (very beautiful) and " entziickend" (charm- 
 ing), the sole adjectives I could at the mo- 
 ment recall. Perhaps my expression told 
 him more than my words, for he was good 
 enough to look much pleased as he shook 
 hands warmly. 
 
 Then we girls all came out together. 
 None of us cared to hear the rest of the last 
 number. I for one wanted to be quiet and 
 think — or rather to hear again in my mind 
 those haunting, exquisite strains. Is there 
 anything in the world more marvellous than 
 music or more indescribable than its hidden 
 soul ? And now I must to bed, and hear it 
 all over again, I hope, in my dreams. 
 
 Munchen, Marcti 6. 
 
 As soon as my greetings with Thuille 
 were over to-day I hastened to congratulate 
 [196] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 CIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITITTTHTTTTTTT Iiiiii TTTrT-r; 
 
 him again on the success of his Ghigeline 
 music last Monday. This time my German 
 was a little more fluent, and I even made 
 bold to ask him how long it had taken him 
 to write the act. He said that he started it 
 in the middle of June, 1899. After waiting 
 two weeks for text from Bierbaum, and after 
 countless other interruptions, he finished it 
 by the end of August. 
 
 Then began the lesson. With a sinking 
 heart I placed my fugue on the rack. I 
 don't know how many hours I had worked 
 on it! At any rate the stretto had almost 
 reduced me to tears. A stretto is a net, and 
 if one is not constantly on the watch, he is 
 caught in its meshes. Thuille looked it 
 over, made some corrections, and to my 
 surprise said, " Sie sind recht fleissig gewcsen, 
 Fraulein. Die Fugue ist gut" (You have 
 been very industrious. The fugue is good). 
 My spirits rose with a leap, for he seldom 
 praises. 
 
 The pupil who was to follow me was 
 late, so I had time as I drew on my 
 gloves to express the wish that we might 
 [197] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 hear his new opera produced at the Hof- 
 Theatre. 
 
 "I don't know about that," said he 
 laughing. "I am fortunate if I have my 
 Lobetanz given. I expect that will appear 
 about the twenty-second of the month." 
 
 Turning, he opened one of the drawers of 
 his desk. "Here are the complete scores 
 of them all," he said, as he touched the 
 backs of the great books with a tender, 
 almost paternal pride ; "and here is that 
 place for the wood-wind in Gugeline which 
 you remarked on." 
 
 He pointed out the passage in the score, 
 and to my delight took his seat at the piano 
 and played for some moments. 
 
 " The most laborious thing I ever did in 
 my life was writing out the orchestral parts 
 from here on," he said, playing the theme of 
 the duet. " I thought I should never get 
 it done." 
 
 His words made me think of something 
 
 Mr. Chadwick had said in class one day, 
 
 shortly after the completion of his lyric drama 
 
 "Judith." He declared that reducing the 
 
 [198] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rTTTTTiltTIl t l lllT TTTITIIIirTTTTTTTT TTTTT I I I IIIIIIII I IIIII I I I IIIIIIi r illlT Tn 
 
 orchestral parts so as to make a complete 
 piano accompaniment was one of the most 
 tedious things he ever experienced. After 
 all, my dear, the gods are just, and to be 
 great does not mean that one is free from 
 drudgery. 
 
 Chadwick, by the bye, always had evidences 
 of his energy on every hand in the form of 
 proofs or manuscript lying carelessly about 
 in his studio ; perhaps a song, or a string 
 quartette, or merely the key to his harmony 
 book which he was getting out last spring. 
 Thuille, on the contrary, has nothing to in- 
 dicate what he is doing — except cigarettes. 
 
 After my lesson I stopped in at Polly's. 
 I found her playing away at a fearful rate 
 on Saint-Saens' G minor concerto, and she 
 looked so pale and tired that I made her 
 call everything else off and go for a walk. 
 We found, however, that by hurrying we 
 could spend a half-hour in the old Pinako- 
 thek, and so we made our way to Barer- 
 strasse. You must come over if only to 
 see these splendid Holbeins ! The master's 
 portrait of himself is alone worth a trip, and 
 [199] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 then Durer's four apostles ! The St. Paul 
 is my favorite, he is so majestic, but Polly 
 prefers St. Mark. She says he looks happier 
 than the others. 
 
 I must not forget to tell you about taking 
 tea at the Sterners'. They live over by the 
 river, and we wandered through a maze of 
 streets before reaching the right house. 
 Then we climbed numberless flights of stairs 
 in true German fashion, and found ourselves 
 in the most charming apartment under the 
 very roof itself. Mrs. Sterner received us in 
 a picturesque, low-studded room, which had 
 at one end a large bay-window, where the 
 tea table was spread. She is very slight and 
 girlish in appearance. As we sat sipping 
 our tea I continually caught tantalizing 
 glimpses of a big studio at the farther side. 
 It was not long before the artist himself 
 entered and invited us, when we had quite 
 finished, to see his " work shop." 
 
 Such a fascinating place as it is, not at all 
 of the conventional order, with bizarre nick- 
 nacks and curios, oriental hangings, and stale, 
 tobacco-scented air ; but a big, light-flooded, 
 [200] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 tTTIITITIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITIIIIITIirilllllllllllllllllllTITTTTTT I ITTTTTTTT^I 
 
 healthy room adorned merely with sketches, 
 pictures and easels, for the Sterners have 
 only pitched their tent in Munich for a 
 brief season and are off in the spring for 
 Italy. 
 
 There is a wealth of treasures in Mr. 
 Sterner 's portfolio, and his field of work is a 
 delightfully broad one. Of his illustrations, 
 those for a new edition of Edgar Allan Poe's 
 works interested me most. Each picture 
 had such definiteness about it that one could 
 guess at once the lines it interpreted. Two 
 of his most famous paintings which we asked 
 to see were in America, but he showed us 
 the exquisitely taken photographs. One 
 represents a charming child, the other is 
 that which I have seen so often in your 
 own music room, — William Mason at the 
 keyboard. 
 
 " And the new picture, is it finished yet ? " 
 asked Edith, who had been there before. 
 
 " It 's the old story ! " he said ; " I Ve put it 
 aside to work on pot-boilers ! " 
 
 Fancy calling those wonderful illustrations 
 of his by such a brutal name. 
 
 L ~ 01 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 imillllllTIT ITIt l TITI f lll lll l l ll lUm?! tlT It lt TIH I TT ITT T t HHTm it ll tm 
 
 Thursday. 
 
 At last, my dear, I have something defi- 
 nite to tell you about Fraulein Hartmann. 
 The most distressing thing occurred at 
 dinner to-day. Just as we were having 
 salad and composedly conversing about 
 Arabic customs — a favorite subject of Herr 
 Doktor and the Poet — in came the Italian 
 ladies, with profuse apologies for their tardi- 
 ness. They had been " doing " the Bavarian 
 National Museum, and lingered too long 
 over the ivory collection. One of them 
 crossed to Fraulein Hartmann's place and 
 handed her a letter. 
 
 " I met the postman on the stairs," she 
 said, " and told him I would take any mail 
 up, so he gave me this." 
 
 Fraulein thanked her for her kindness, then, 
 glancing at the handwriting, suddenly flushed 
 to the roots of her hair. A second later her 
 aunt, who had been looking over her shoulder, 
 snatched the letter from her hand. Frau 
 Von Waldfel's face was crimson with anger 
 and her black eyes snapped maliciously. 
 [202 1 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 CIlII I II IIIIIII I I I IIIIIIIIIIIHIIIITII II IIII I I T I T I TTI I TII UllZlI ItTtT I ITITIIT 
 
 " I '11 look after this, young lady," she 
 said, thrusting the letter into her pocket. 
 " A pretty pass when engaged girls receive 
 love letters from other than their betrothed." 
 
 Her voice echoed harshly in the complete 
 stillness of the room. Fraulein's face was a 
 study — anger, mortification, and resentment 
 at the insult thus publicly inflicted on her. 
 She started as if to retort, then, recovering 
 her self-possession, she folded her napkin 
 with dignity, rose and left the room. Her 
 head was proudly erect, but her blue eyes, 
 usually so tranquil, were smouldering darkly. 
 
 Frau von Waldfel looked even more 
 enraged than before, that her niece should 
 dare to depart without her permission. 
 Muttering to herself, she pushed back her 
 plate with a sharp rattle of her knife and 
 fork, and went out with a heavy step. 
 
 We were all speechless with astonishment. 
 The opportune arrival of coffee served to re- 
 lieve the tension, and the calm voice of the 
 Poet's Wife was like oil on tempestuous 
 waters, as she inquired whether coffee were 
 a favorite drink of the American people. 
 [203 1 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rTtTtTII I >TTTtI H I I TTtII H»III III IXIXI I TTIII T IIIIII I I I I lIIIl I III I IIXIIXXXlm 
 
 When the meal was over she drew me into 
 the hall. 
 
 " When you are through with your lessons 
 come and see me in my room," she said. 
 
 That afternoon she told me the following 
 about Fraulein Hartmann. It seems that 
 Fraulein's parents, who live in Mannheim, 
 are poor people. Her aunt, however, is ex- 
 tremely rich. When, last spring, Fraulein 
 came out of the convent, Frau von Waldfel 
 sent for her to pay her a visit. She was very 
 ambitious that her niece should make a 
 brilliant match, for she is, as you must have 
 guessed, an intensely proud woman. Indeed, 
 so anxious was she that she offered to pay 
 the dowry and introduce Fraulein into so- 
 ciety. This offer was accepted with delight 
 by the Hartmanns, and Fraulein made her 
 debut in Berlin, where her aunt had taken 
 a fancy to spend the winter. Among other 
 men whom she met was Lieutenant Blum, 
 He had, without doubt, heard the rumors of 
 Frau von Waldfel's wealth, for he immedi- 
 ately began to pay court. Matters were 
 speedily arranged between the two families 
 [204] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 HVi i inTiTiiiiir tTiiinimm 
 
 and the young people were betrothed. 
 Fraulein's parents were greatly pleased; 
 Frau von Waldfel, radiant. Such an honor 
 that her niece should wed an officer ! Only 
 Friiulein Hartmann did not seem to rejoice 
 as she should over the good fortune. She 
 would have been less than human had not 
 all these beautiful surroundings, these fasci- 
 nating frocks and these flattering friends of 
 her aunt pleased her. But there was an- 
 other man — there always is a third person 
 when you stop to think of it — in form of a 
 student, who had lived next door to the 
 Fraulein all her life. He loved her, and 
 she was half in love with him. In fact, 
 affairs would speedily have come to a climax 
 had not Frau von Waldfel taken it into her 
 head to send for her niece just as their love- 
 affair was at this Critical point. 
 
 "As time has passed," continued the 
 Poet's Wife, "the less she has cared for 
 the lieutenant and the more she realizes 
 that her feeling for Heinrich is deeper 
 than the passing fancy which her family 
 would have her believe. Don't blame her, 
 [205] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rTTTITTtTTTT r t»t I ITTTTTTITITTTTIII I T I TTTTIIIIITITTTITITITIITIIIIITIITIIITrrn 
 
 my dear. You American girls are brought 
 up very differently from ours here, and it is 
 hard for you to understand. The letter 
 to-day was, I feel sure, from Heinrich. 
 Much as she has longed to hear from him, 
 she is too honorable to permit any cor- 
 respondence. A short time ago, however, 
 Heinrich wrote a letter without her aunt's 
 knowledge, and begged her to see him. 
 After much misgiving she consented and 
 a meeting was arranged " 
 
 " At a carnival ball ? " I interrupted. 
 
 "Yes. How did you guess? Probably 
 the rash fellow has dared to write and pro- 
 pose another scheme. * Lovers and madmen 
 have such seething brains,' " she quoted. 
 
 "How will it all come out, I wonder," 
 said I, puzzled. 
 
 " Indeed, I am wondering the same thing. 
 It was while you were in Meran, you know, 
 that Fraulein told me this. Her aunt was 
 ill with the gout, and one morning we went 
 for a walk together. She was feeling very 
 unhappy, for in some way an unpleasant 
 rumor concerning Blum's past had reached 
 [206] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 :nii:iiiii i xiiiii i iiimiimiiini TT-n 
 
 her, and I suppose the dear child could n't 
 keep her heart pent up any longer." 
 
 At her mention of Meran my mind flew 
 back to the day I had seen the man I 
 thought was Blum on the Promenade. 
 
 " Was the lieutenant in town then ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 " No. He had been called away on some 
 law business," she answered. 
 
 A caller came in just at this point, so we 
 had no more opportunity to talk together. 
 I feel perfectly sure now that it was Blum 
 who was having such a gay time with that 
 crowd of people. He may have used that 
 law stoiy merely as an excuse to take a 
 holiday. I can't bear to think of that 
 sensitive, lovable girl as his wife ! 
 
 Dear me, Cecilia, this is a strange, strange 
 world ! One would imagine that with ex- 
 perience and the discretion which comes 
 with years, things would straighten them- 
 selves out a bit; but the older one grows 
 the queerer life is ! 
 Yours problematically and abstractedly, 
 
 M. 
 [ 207] 
 
VIII 
 
 annmmnnnnnnxnina 
 
^ X H I tllf TTTIlI llI IIt lHIII ITIITIIIIITrtTIIIIIIIIIIIIIlIIHIIllIIIIIIIIIIi 
 
 ■TII IH I IIX T IH il lUl r TTTTTTTITIIIIII IIIIXIir i X IIXI lIIIimUnTT 
 
 March 22. 
 Cecilia dear : — 
 
 jr-pyHERE IS THE SMELL OF 
 
 a spring in the air to-day. As I 
 JL passed through Odeons-Platz on my 
 way to my lesson this morning the sun was 
 flooding the whole square with a delicious 
 warmth we have not felt for months. A 
 soft breeze brought across from the Hof- 
 Garten the odor of freshly upturned earth. 
 In front of the Feldernhalle the pigeons 
 were fluttering and whirling, now suddenly 
 swooping down from the roof, then darting 
 back again like arpeggios of light. Around 
 the flag pole a crowd of laughing children 
 were tossing crumbs, and then running shyly 
 back into the arms of their bareheaded 
 nurses as the birds flocked near. The scene, 
 in a dim way, suggested the Piazza of San 
 Marco, and I gave a sigh for a sight of 
 Venice, — its blue, unruffled waters, its 
 marble palaces, and the white dome of the 
 Maria della Salute against its peerless sky. 
 [«U] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 fT H » HtI TTTttI Him T H II t»I t HHIIIIIIIl I lIIIIHIIIIXIIIII IIIIIXIIirTXXX ZI3 
 
 That reminds me of a secret I have to 
 tell you. What do you think? In April 
 comes the spring vacation at the Conserva- 
 tory, and Mutterchen is contemplating for 
 us — mind you, I say contemplating — a 
 trip to the Italian lakes. Think of it — 
 Bellagio, Como, Lugano and all the rest ! 
 I don't dare give myself up to dreaming, 
 however, for nothing about it is as yet 
 definitely settled. 
 
 Frau von Waldfel and her niece have 
 gone to Berlin. They intend to stay sev- 
 eral weeks in order to complete Fraulein's 
 already elaborate trousseau. My own opin- 
 ion is, however, that the aunt has read 
 Heinrich's letter and wants to get her niece 
 away from Munich for fear she may meet 
 him. Ever since that shocking occurrence 
 in the dining-room neither Frau von Wald- 
 fel nor the Fraulein have come to the table, 
 but have had all their meals served in their 
 rooms. Of course we do not see the lieu- 
 tenant now, for which I am duly grateful, 
 but I do miss the Fraulein and our pleasant 
 chats together. 
 
 [ 212 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 The days and lessons have been going on 
 just as usual save for the interruptions af- 
 forded by the celebration of the Prince Re- 
 gent's birthday which came on the twelfth. 
 Early in the morning Louise and Edith 
 called for me to go to the great military 
 mass at St. Michael's. It is a rare thing for 
 women to have cards, for this service is held 
 for the soldiers alone. According to direc- 
 tions we made our way up a flight of nar- 
 row stairs which led from the sacristy, and 
 found ourselves in the corridor of a balcony. 
 From this corridor lead several little rooms 
 which are called by the theatrical name of 
 boxes. Most of them are reserved for the 
 royal family and persons of rank. The one 
 which was allotted to us was almost behind 
 the high altar and facing the entire congre- 
 gation. We could not be seen because no 
 light from the church itself fell on the little 
 glass windows, tightly closed, which covered 
 the front of our box, but we could see ex- 
 cellently, and I shall never forget the bril- 
 liancy of the scene. I could not help but 
 contrast the sight before me with that 
 [ 213 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rTi» i inTtM i iiiiim ii iiiii/"""'»»»iimmiiiimm i m»mninn 
 
 which I had beheld within these same walls 
 last Christmas Eve. Now the church was 
 filled with a throng of men in dazzling uni- 
 forms — here a company of privates with 
 white-plumed helmets, there a group of offi- 
 cers in the Bavarian blue and scarlet, in the 
 farther corner a coterie of generals in cream- 
 colored broadcloth, countless orders gleam- 
 ing across their breasts. The members of 
 the royal house were seated directly beneath 
 us in the choir. They were in full uniform, 
 and sat in great chairs of red velvet with 
 kneeling cushions of the same color at 
 their feet. On the altar steps stood a com- 
 pany of soldiers with black plumes to their 
 helmets, while separating the men in the 
 nave from those in the choir stretched a 
 great orchestra. 
 
 What a wonderful sea of color it was ! 
 The sunshine pouring through the long win- 
 dows made the gleaming swords, the shining 
 helmets and the gold-fringed epaulets a thou- 
 sand times more brilliant. At the close of 
 the service the band suddenly struck up the 
 Hallelujah chorus from the "Messiah." I 
 [214] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 LL mmmilllimmmrTTTTTllUmilTTTI II Ii H r tT II irr TT TTTIIM I IHT It rT l 
 
 cannot tell you how impressive it was to hear 
 these familiar strains amid such strange sur- 
 roundings. I thought of the many times I 
 had heard them sung at home. Then as 
 the trumpets rang gloriously out on that 
 mighty phrase, " King of Kings ! " and the 
 whole orchestra came in fortissimo with the 
 wonderful " Hallelujah ! " which echoed and 
 re-echoed in the lofty arches, a blur came 
 before my eyes. Ah, Cecy dear, the world 
 may call Handel old fashioned and laugh at 
 his simplicity, but who has ever written a 
 hymn of praise so powerful, so convincing 
 as this ? 
 
 On Monday, as usual, came the Wein- 
 gartner concert. Beethoven's seventh was 
 gloriously given! Weingartner takes the 
 first movement slower than I have ever 
 heard it at home, but in the allegro con brio 
 he simply sweeps the orchestra along. At 
 the close of the concert occurred the usual 
 ovation, a number of enthusiastic admirers 
 staying to cheer and applaud until the lights 
 were put out. AVeingartner's conducting 
 of Beethoven without score is far more in- 
 [215] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 iiiiiTimiT t »nnTnmiT Ti TiTmiimmiiimiiiiimmiiim iinimTti 
 
 spiring than any other directing I have ever 
 seen, just as the words of an extempora- 
 neous speaker are more forceful than one 
 who confines himself to notes. 
 
 I was sorry that I could not go to the 
 premiere of Thuille's Lobetanz, but I 
 attended the second presentation and en- 
 joyed it immensely. It is just such a dainty 
 thing as one would expect from his pen but, 
 by the bye, is not really an opera at all. 
 The program announced it as a play by 
 Otto Julius Bierbaum with music by Lud- 
 wig Thuille. At first, therefore, I was 
 slightly disappointed, but the whole thing 
 is so charming that I soon forgot my annoy- 
 ance at the spoken dialogue. The Princess, 
 whom Lobetanz loves, was beautifully played 
 by Tordeck. In the second act there is a 
 lovely bit, when Lobetanz (Herr Walther) 
 plays his violin under the tree and sings of 
 the Princess' eyes. The text is in reality a 
 fairy tale, full of imagination and delicacy. 
 
 I was discussing the performance with the 
 little Boer after my lesson at the school to- 
 day when who should come breathlessly up 
 [216] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 t T II I i llTH T t lll tn ilTTTTTYT ITI TI I IU TTrTTT rrTTTTTTnTrillltllllTIItTTTT TTTT'' 
 
 the stairs but Edith. She had been to the 
 house for me, and finding me gone had 
 come down to the Conservatory. 
 
 " I want you to go shopping with me," 
 she said. " Do come and help me buy a pair 
 of shoes." 
 
 So we set out together towards Marien- 
 Platz. Oh, my dear Cecilia, if you ever come 
 to Germany, be sure and bring enough 
 clothing of every description to last till your 
 return. German ladies are not at all particu- 
 lar about the cut and fit of their gowns, and as 
 for their footwear ! Such a time as we had 
 to-day trying to buy those walking boots ! 
 In the first place we could find nothing nar- 
 rower than d and Edith has the daintiest 
 little foot imaginable. Then all the shoes we 
 saw were so broad, flat and shapeless, that 
 they had a positively inhuman appearance. 
 Edith said they looked as though they had 
 been made for ducks. It was hopeless to try 
 and make the Friiulein understand what was 
 wrong. 
 
 " Of course it's — it 's very er-serviceable," 
 said I, holding a clumsy thing at arm's 
 [817] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 HIIillllllllTTT ITITTTTTTTTTTTITTTItirTITtTTTTITTTI I TITTTTIIi tt llllTII l i y iTTTTl 
 
 length and surveying it critically, "but isn't 
 it just a little too broad ? " 
 
 The Fraulein cast a withering glance at us. 
 " Broad ? " she said, " why it 's not broad at 
 all." 
 
 " Oh ! " said I. 
 
 " And they suit perfectly the Countess 
 
 von R , Frau Excellenz von S , 
 
 Frau General-Secretariat M ." 
 
 " I '11 go barefoot before 1 11 wear those 
 boots," exclaimed Edith in English, her 
 cheeks flushing, " and I don't care a fig 
 what these ladies with the long titles wear ! " 
 Then, in German, " Fraulein, the shoes are 
 quite impossible. Good morning." 
 
 With the bearing of an injured queen 
 Edith swept out of the store, I following 
 meekly, and the Fraulein gazing after us 
 both in open-mouthed astonishment. 
 
 It was not till we were half way up the 
 street that I dared to break the silence 
 in which my companion had enveloped 
 herself. 
 
 " It occurs to me in a vague sort of way," 
 I began timidly, "that the Baroness men- 
 [ 218 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 [TITHITITTITIIIIIITIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIirilllllUIIIIIITlririllllllllTTITTTTTm 
 
 tioned that a new shoe store had been 
 opened on Residenz-strasse. 1 think she 
 said they kept American shoes." 
 
 Edith's face softened. " Then by all 
 means let us go there," she said. " I 'm 
 afraid the barefoot idea would be rather un- 
 comfortable in bad weather." 
 
 Never did the qualities of American shoes 
 appear so attractive as when we saw them 
 invitingly displayed in the window of the 
 new shop. Edith was so delighted at find- 
 ing something that would fit that she paid 
 without a murmur the fabulous price de- 
 manded, and invited me to drink chocolate 
 with her afterwards at the Hof-cafe. 
 
 But just take a word of warning, Cecilia, 
 and don't get caught in any such predica- 
 ment yourself! 
 
 Munich, April 2. 
 
 The softest zephyr whispering to a rose ; 
 the faint fragrance of a lily swaying on its 
 stem ; a fairy cobweb lying shimmering in 
 the sun ; this is Beethoven as played by 
 Ysaye. Never shall I forget his playing, 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 t iiiiixiiiiii: i n:iiinn i i i iii : i ii ii i iii iiiiiii i i n ii x i imi:iii i: :i:.mnx i 
 
 and never do I want to hear any one else 
 play the G major sonata. 
 
 Frau Langenhan-Hirzel and Ysaye are 
 giving a series of concerts consisting of 
 Beethoven's sonatas for violin and piano. 
 Polly and I "went Kategorie" last week. 
 To " go Kategorie " means that we used our 
 students' tickets, or Kategorie- Karten, and 
 obtained admittance at a reduced price. 
 We did not receive a seat, and indeed 
 none were to be had, for as we entered 
 the hall of the Bayerische Hof, every place 
 was taken and crowds were standing in 
 the aisles. Accordingly, we made our way 
 to the balcony, for beneath the windows 
 there runs a low, broad step which answers 
 very well in place of a seat. When we ar- 
 rived, however, we found that this, too, had 
 been taken possession of by a crowd of 
 students who were sitting closely together, 
 their knees almost touching their chins, and 
 most of them holding the score on their 
 laps. We were at a loss what to do, for 
 that we might be obliged to stand had never 
 occurred to us. 
 
 [220] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 tllllTTIIIIIITIIITTTTTIIIIXIIIITITIITTIIIIIIIITirilTITTirrTITTTTTtTTITTTTTm 
 
 " There must be a step or a window ledge 
 somewhere," said Polly, looking vainly 
 about. Suddenly I spied a table in the 
 corner, and I threw her a meaning glance. 
 Quick as a flash she understood and was too 
 good a Bohemian to be troubled by con- 
 ventionalities. A moment later we were 
 gravely sitting on the table side by side, our 
 feet not touching the floor, our eyes not see- 
 ing the stage, but our ears straining to catch 
 every note of that wonderful music. Polly 
 had brought her score. One of the players 
 in the Kaim Saal orchestra comes to her 
 weekly and they read together, so she is 
 familiar with all the sonatas. But after a 
 time I shut my eyes to the printed symbols. 
 I wanted only to hear, for from the moment 
 Ysaye draws his bow across the strings " the 
 weariness, the fever, and the fret " fade away, 
 and one lives in another world. I have 
 never heard anything more exquisite than 
 his pianissimo. So marvellously legato and 
 delicate it is, like a thread of gold, that I 
 held my breath for fear the tone might 
 break. It reminded me of all that is beau- 
 [S81 J 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 CIlIIIirilllllllltlTIITIIIITTIIIIITTTTTTIIIIITTITHIITTtTTtT IIIHI ttTtTTTTTn 
 
 tiful and dainty and lovely. By some odd 
 association of ideas, Shelley's lines about the 
 lily of the valley came to me : 
 
 " The light of its tremulous bells is seen 
 Through their pavilions of tender green." 
 
 Frau Langenhan-Hirzel played delightfully. 
 But what impressed me most forcibly about 
 her and about Ysaye was their perfect 
 control. 
 
 After all the word artist means nothing 
 less than control. No matter how deeply 
 an artist's feelings may be stirred, no matter 
 how moved he may be by the intensity, the 
 passion or the anguish of the moment, he 
 must always be the master of his emotions. 
 He must make others cry, weep, exult, but 
 must himself, while sensing every suggestion, 
 remain in perfect realization of the situation. 
 Picture Elizabeth sobbing in the midst of the 
 Tannhauser prayer ! Or Paderewski break- 
 ing off in the middle of a bar and burying 
 his face in his hands ! And yet an artist 
 must feel more keenly than the average man. 
 Verily, the gods demand miracles ! 
 [222] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 How happy I am to write you that the 
 trip southward bids fair to be realized within 
 a short time. We have heard from friends 
 who have landed at Naples and who hope 
 to meet us at Milan. You can imagine how 
 delighted we are to think of seeing some one 
 from home, for letters at best are unsatis- 
 factory things. I have so many questions 
 to ask about everything and everybody that 
 I shall be worse than the proverbial small 
 boy. 
 
 Mutterchen and I have been down to 
 Promenade Platz this afternoon buying 
 trunk straps. Every time we return from 
 a trip we find that our straps have mysteri- 
 ously disappeared and no one seems to know 
 anything about them. I fancy that those 
 solemn-looking guards could enlighten us 
 considerably if they chose. The weather 
 was so delightful that after we had finished 
 our shopping, which had led us down Max- 
 imilian-strasse, we decided to take a stroll 
 along the Gasteig Promenade by the Isar. 
 We found ourselves in the midst of an idly 
 sauntering throng, for the greater part of 
 [223] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 ii mnM ii n»mi iTii»t»miiiHTmiiimiimiinmiimiim»nTittT; 
 
 Miinchen had turned out to luxuriate in the 
 sunshine. Oh ! my dear, how it would shock 
 your fastidious taste to see the new Reform 
 Kleid. All winter the women showed un- 
 pleasant symptoms of adopting this form of 
 dress, and now that spring has come the fever 
 has burst forth. The garments are all en- 
 tirely in one piece, hanging straight down- 
 ward, without shape or curve, totally 
 ignoring the existence of a waist line. 
 Most of them suggest nothing so strongly as 
 robes de nuit, and some which have straps 
 over the shoulders remind one of a feminine 
 species of overalls. They are invariably too 
 short in front, and as the fashion for white 
 shoes prevails (may the gods spare you the 
 sight of white shoes on German feet !) the 
 effect is grotesque in the extreme. I believe 
 the one virtue of these remarkable gowns is 
 that they are comfortable, but so are bath- 
 robes, sweaters, and negliges. 
 
 Even such a disturbing element as the 
 
 Reform Kleid was in time forgotten, for 
 
 it is very lovely down here by the Isar, that 
 
 same " Isar, rolling rapidly," of which every- 
 
 [224] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 tll »III l l l I l IIIIMI«llUl Ii rilIIIIIIIIIlIMlllllimtf 1 HHl . l . , ,,TT^r^r, 
 
 one has read. In place of green banks are 
 high walls of white stone over which trails 
 picturesque ivy from the terraces on either 
 side. The Promenade itself stretches along 
 the edge of the embankment, under great 
 shady trees. So delightful was it that we 
 wandered down to the Peace Monument 
 and lingered there till six o'clock. The sun- 
 set was not especially brilliant, but the 
 clouds which remained hanging low in the 
 fast-darkening sky were wonderful indeed. 
 They shaded from a dusky violet to deep, 
 rich purple, and their music was that of 
 a Chopin prelude, not one of those tempest- 
 tossed visions, but perhaps the tender, half- 
 melancholy one in B flat. 
 
 There is to be a Vortrags- Abend to- 
 morrow night which marks the end of the 
 spring term at the Conservatory. Fraulein 
 Mikorey, a pupil of Stavenhagen's, is to play 
 a Beethoven concerto, a student named 
 Sieben is to play the violin, and I am to 
 sing. Wish me luck, Licbchcn! 
 
 15 [ 225 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 i » T m i i ii i i mm»iiimi iHin»m»iinnH»»THHii!nnnii!tmiv) 
 
 Evening. 
 
 Just a line before I go to sleep to tell you 
 that everything went off beautifully at the 
 concert to-night. In one way it was an 
 awful experience — awful, dearest of friends, 
 in its most literal sense. This was not on 
 account of the hall, I assure you, although 
 it looked marvellously great and high as one 
 stepped out of the dressing-room ; nor was 
 it because of the imposing audience, nor 
 the crowds of pupils, who stood with critical 
 attention around the sides of the room. 
 Each of these factors may have its individual 
 influence in striking terror to the heart of the 
 timid performer, but they are all as nothing, 
 absolutely nothing, I say, in comparison 
 with that austere, black-coated, solemn- 
 visaged line of professors who occupy the 
 front row. You cannot imagine anything 
 more terrifying than to stand on the plat- 
 form and look down on this human barri- 
 cade which shuts one off, as it were, from all 
 that is friendly and encouraging. Staven- 
 hagen sat in the centre, with arms majesti- 
 [226] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 [ii : i iiii i ir i ii: xxx mi i iii ii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiTiiiTiiii l ..T,T. ii,,,, ,,, T Tr, 
 
 cally folded. On either side were the two 
 women teachers of the school, and then to 
 right and left stretched that line of frigid 
 stateliness. There was a certain horrible 
 fascination about it all, for try as I would to 
 look over into the audience or up at the 
 balcony, I found my glance always nervously 
 returning to some dignified head posed at a 
 critical angle, or some pair of hands with fin- 
 ger tips pressed together in judicial attitude. 
 The moment after I made my very quaint, 
 very German courtesy — a ceremony insisted 
 on by the Frau Professor — I suddenly be- 
 came terribly conscious of the fact that I 
 was an American, that all these people 
 before me were German, and that I was 
 about to sing to them in Italian. If I had 
 dared, I should have smiled. It was as if 
 Italian were a language of commerce, by 
 means of which I was to make a communi- 
 cation to the audience. But, dear me ! I 
 forgot all about that and everything — yes, 
 even the depressing effect of the front row 
 — when once I got to singing. And when 
 it was over I could have hugged the fellow 
 [227] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 ; i ini» !i iTmt i »» ; in»tiimTH T iitmT> »nn t ti ii intH i Tiii i in ; TT T>- 
 
 who cried " B?~avo! Amerika! Amerika!" 
 What mattered it that it was only an unpre- 
 tentious pupils' concert ? I could not have 
 felt any prouder if it had been my debut in 
 grand opera when Stavenhagen and Thuille 
 congratulated me, and the latter said, in his 
 kind way, "We must make that counter- 
 point run as easily from your pen as those 
 tones from your lips." 
 
 When one studies singing merely for the 
 love of it, it is all very well, but it would 
 make your heart sick to see the number of 
 American girls over here who are half-starv- 
 ing themselves in order to study for the 
 grand opera stage. One sadly wonders how 
 many of them will ever " arrive," but when 
 an argument is raised or a doubt expressed 
 as to their ultimate success, they immediately 
 cite the case of Geraldine Farrar, the Ameri- 
 can who is at present singing leading roles 
 at the Berlin opera house. The brilliancy 
 of her success blinds their eyes to hundreds 
 of utter failures, to countless half-way suc- 
 cesses and to the untold drudgery which lies 
 
 along the road. 
 
 [228] 
 
TTTiTiiitiT»tii i i niiT TtmmiiT«tiiimnimmiiiiiiiixiiiiimTTrT 
 
 IX 
 
 m ili um 
 
 ttTii i i i i i it iiiitiiiiiiiiiii ii m rLr m iiriiii irii i i iiirrc 
 
r7TTTHiriHIHIIIIIHIIITIlTTHITITT»TT11t.T»TITTT T «,,,TlTT» y, 
 
 fl ll llllllirilllllllinillllTTTIIIITtHrrtTTIITTTTniTtyTtTTT IIlII TItTTtTTTT f 
 
 Gordoxe, Lake Garda, April 10. 
 Dear Cecilia : — 
 
 /AM WRITING IN THE LOVE- 
 liest and most romantic of gardens. 
 It lies on the very edge of Lake 
 Garda. Indeed, only a wall separates this 
 wealth of green from the blue waves which 
 plash rhythmically against their stone bar- 
 rier. Above me are the apple blossoms ; on 
 either side lie tangles of vine and roses. In 
 the distance are the neat white paths lead- 
 ing to the hotel where we are staying. It 
 is not quite so civilized here as farther up 
 the slope, where the plants grow in decorous 
 rows and carefully laid out designs, but I 
 like it much better, and besides, I get the 
 breeze — a soft, legato breeze — from the 
 water, and a sight of the picturesque island 
 — as yet nameless to me — just across. 
 
 We found our way to this charming spot 
 by means of our old friend, the Brenner 
 Pass. How changed it all was from three 
 months ago ! Then everything was covered 
 with snow, and the trees bowed into crystal 
 [ *81 I 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 tTT>» H T T TIT H IT I ITTTTTIII IT TTtIITIiITTI«IIITIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlIIIIIIIIirTIIim 
 
 arches under the heavy weight of ice. Now 
 the whole earth seems made new with the 
 soft green of spring. As we rode along 
 every now and then we caught sight of a 
 fruit tree in full bloom : peach blossoms of 
 misty pink making their bit of valley all 
 aglow, apple blossoms lighting up the 
 shadow of a threatening, black mountain, 
 whose snow-tipped summit seemed in some 
 strange way akin to the patch of white at 
 its base. 
 
 We reached Bozen at seven o'clock, and 
 to our chagrin could find no accommoda- 
 tion at the hotels. In vain we pleaded 
 with the polite proprietors. At loss what 
 to do we followed in the footsteps of a stu- 
 pidly smiling Dienstmann who had seized 
 our luggage at the station and who now 
 assured us he knew of an excellent inn 
 where we could find rooms. Putting our 
 trust in the gods we turned into the court- 
 yard of a quaint little inn called the Gol- 
 dene Taube, and inquired of the smiling 
 Hausfrau if we could have lodgings for the 
 night. With repeated courtesies she replied 
 [232] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 that there was but one room left, but it was 
 a wonderfully beautiful room if we cared to 
 see it. We assured her that we would take 
 it on the spot, and gratefully climbed three 
 narrow flights of stairs without a murmur. 
 Though extremely primitive, the house 
 was neat and clean, but we involuntarily 
 exchanged glances when the landlady threw 
 open the door at the head of the last flight 
 and bowed for us to pass into the room 
 she had so flatteringly described. Such a 
 cubby-hole of a place, with a sloping roof, 
 no carpet and one diamond-paned window, 
 from which, by stretching out my arm, I 
 could touch the window of the opposite 
 house ! Did I say no carpet ? Then I 
 most humbly apologize, for before each bed 
 was a blue fragment which, by a powerful 
 stretch of the imagination might, I suppose, 
 be called a rug. The floor creaked unmer- 
 cifully every time we walked across it, and 
 we were terribly afraid we should lose 
 something between the cracks. Mutter- 
 chen was inclined to regard the situation 
 tragically, but I was rather enjoying the 
 [233] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 whole experience, secretly congratulating 
 myself on being in an attic chamber which 
 might bear some resemblance to those in 
 which the great composers slept, ate, toiled 
 and created their immortal works. 
 
 We had a walk and a drive the following 
 morning and found Bozen much like Meran ; 
 both have the same dingy Lauben, the 
 frescoed houses, the narrow streets and pic- 
 turesque shrines. Our drive to Gries was 
 through a veritable garden, for the fruit 
 trees were abloom on every side. In the 
 afternoon we took the train to Riva, a train 
 which ran over the narrowest track I ever 
 saw, high up on the mountains. 
 
 Riva is a charming place at the head of 
 the lake, and has a most wonderful new 
 road cut through tunnels of rock along the 
 precipices of the west bank. I bought four 
 oranges just as we were going on board the 
 boat for the ridiculous sum of twenty heller 
 (five cents). You should have seen the man 
 who was selling them. He looked like- the 
 genuine villain of comic opera. He wore a 
 black, broad-brimmed hat pulled low over 
 [254] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 [ t Tm»TT i T i t»nt»nmMinnmn i m t T»m» inmi » t» »HH inmii) 
 
 his eyes, a full cape, which fell to his feet, 
 with a collar of well-worn fur, and gold ear- 
 rings. He was very gray and wrinkled, and 
 oh ! how he tried to cheat me ! I had 
 not had the sad and bitter experiences 
 of shopping in Rome six years ago for 
 nothing, however, and so I determined to 
 settle on a price and remain firm. Accord- 
 ingly I offered twenty heller for four oranges. 
 My Italian is not fluent. It is limited to 
 musical terms and a few selections from grand 
 opera. I tried to recall something fitting, but 
 the only lines which came to me were those of 
 an aria from Semlr amide, which could hardly 
 be said to fit the occasion. How grieved, 
 how shocked he looked — the old rascal ! — 
 as he assured me that he could not permit 
 his wonderful fruit to be so cruelly sacrificed, 
 although nothing would delight him more 
 than to please the American signorina. 
 Accordingly I turned to go in dignified 
 silence. In a second the oranges were done 
 up in paper and given over, with the as- 
 tounding announcement that never before 
 in his life had he allowed his fruit to be sold 
 [ 2S5 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 riii Tn i i TiTTtii i iT n i i i iiiiim iixiri i iiiiiiiiiii i i i iiiiiiiiiii iiiiii i nim 
 
 at so absurd a sum, but — with a telling 
 glance from under his black hat — the 
 charms of the signorina were irresistible. 
 At my first opportunity I told of the bar- 
 gain I had made. 
 
 " Twenty heller for four oranges ! " ex- 
 claimed the gentleman who sat next us. 
 " Why, my dear young lady, for thirty heller 
 (eight cents) I just bought a whole dozen ! " 
 
 The sail down the lake is a beautiful one. 
 Such picturesque little towns nestling down 
 by the shore, such bewildering orange groves 
 along the hillsides, such quaint spired 
 churches perched in the most inaccessible 
 places ! The " witchery of the soft blue 
 sky " enchants one. The lake, too, is of a 
 wonderful tint. What a land this must be 
 for artists ! Such color, color everywhere ! 
 I wonder they don't all come over here and 
 live forever. 
 
 The card which I sent you from Munchen, 
 told you we were going straight to Milan, 
 so you doubtless are wondering how we 
 chanced to stop off here. Just as we were 
 leaving Garda our boat ran aground. This 
 [236 J 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 ii mn riT TiimiTmiiii ri iTii! m;i:T ! i l l ll limi»:i l H li i iii »i^»»» i i 
 
 caused the wildest commotion among the 
 townspeople who came flocking down to 
 the shore and stood in lines along the break- 
 water — the women and girls bareheaded, 
 with red shawls about their shoulders and 
 blue aprons over their short skirts, the 
 men and boys in loose shirts, with scarlet 
 handkerchiefs carelessly knotted about their 
 throats and any sort of a cap on the back 
 of their heads. They shouted to each other, 
 they gesticulated wildly, they speculated 
 on the length of time before we could be 
 launched. Indeed, I do not believe there 
 had been as much excitement in the little 
 village for years. So long were we delayed 
 that on inquiry we found that we should 
 arrive too late to catch the train for Milan, 
 and on the suggestion of an English lady 
 with whom we had become acquainted in 
 that delightfully informal way known to 
 travellers, we decided to stay at Gordone over 
 night. That is how I chanced to be writing 
 in this fascinating garden and to be hearing 
 how Italian birds sing their morning paean. 
 I did not have time before leaving 
 [237] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rTTTTTTTTTTTTTITTTITIIITITIIIIIIITIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITIIITIIIITjrTTTm^ 
 
 Miinchen to tell you of the last two concerts 
 we heard there. The first was the presen- 
 tation of Bach's St. Matthew under the 
 direction of Zumpe, with the Hof-Theatre 
 chorus, orchestra and soloists. It strikes 
 me that the Germans do not know how to 
 sing oratorio. They lack that broad, canta- 
 bile style. Indeed, this branch of music is 
 heard least of all here. Outside of the 
 Rhine towns, which, I hear, have occasional 
 festivals, little interest is shown in oratorio. 
 At the St. Matthew the artists sang un- 
 sympathetically, but the choral singing was 
 magnificent. Is there anything in the 
 world grander, more truly religious than a 
 Bach choral ? One listens and the com- 
 plexities, the sordidness, the trivialities of 
 life all vanish. One feels only his own 
 insignificance and humbly raises his voice 
 with the rest in adoration of that Greatness 
 which is eternal. 
 
 The other concert was the last one in the 
 
 Weingartner series. The hall was packed 
 
 with people, many of whom were standing. 
 
 The program began with Cherubini's over- 
 
 [238] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 ture to Anacreon. Then came a delightful 
 concerto by Haydn for strings, two obligato 
 violins and an obligato 'cello. Last of all 
 was Beethoven's ninth symphony. The 
 stage had been enlarged to accommodate 
 the big chorus. This was the first time I 
 had ever heard this stupendous work. The 
 singers sang with great spirit and as though 
 they loved every note. What a magnificent 
 main theme that is with the rushing counter- 
 point in the strings ! I should think the clari- 
 net players would be in their element, there 
 are so many lovely bits for that instrument. 
 And the drum in the scherzo — who could 
 ever forget it? 
 
 At the close of the concert Weingartner 
 was presented with an enormous laurel 
 wreath, amid the prolonged cheers and ap- 
 plause of the audience. After coming out 
 repeatedly to bow his thanks, he finally ex- 
 pressed them in a graceful little speech. I 
 was too far away to catch all that he said, 
 but at the end his A uf Wiedcrschen bis 
 ndchstcs Jahr (Till we meet again next 
 year) brought forth a tremendous thunder 
 [239] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 iiii»mriiiiiTiiiimim!imiiTimmiiimimi! ;iimi i itiininnr m 
 
 of applause. And so exit Weingartner. I 
 do hope I shall see him conduct again before 
 I leave Germany. 
 
 This afternoon we take the boat across the 
 lake and then the train to Milan, — so addio 
 carissima, as they say in this lovely country. 
 
 Milan, Easter Sunday, 
 1.2Q A. M. 
 
 Easter Sunday is just beginning, and I am 
 about to retire after an evening spent at La 
 Scala in hearing Verdi's Un Ballo in Mas- 
 chera. Am I living in another world ? Can 
 Germany and the dear old Hof-Theatre be 
 but a day's trip away ? When one has for 
 months been going to the opera at seven 
 and returning at the discreet hour of nine- 
 thirty it seems nothing less than wild dis- 
 sipation to find the final curtain falling in the 
 wee small hours o' the night. Milan and 
 Miinchen may bear a certain euphonic 
 similarity, but they are really as unlike as 
 black and white. 
 
 In the Munich opera house we are gener- 
 [240] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 H l nmi l lHmim iii ii i iimiimiimmiiiiinrTt nim ii nmmt T T Tm 
 
 ally directed to our seats by a languorous 
 gesture of the hand and a pertinent glance 
 towards the desired row. Here, however, 
 the usher seized our checks, muttered to 
 himself, shouted excitedly to a fellow-usher, 
 tried to direct us and several other people 
 at once, urged us to hurry, and finally landed 
 us breathless in our places. There were yet 
 five minutes before the overture. 
 
 La Scala is an enormous opera house, and 
 its stage stretches beneath one like a great 
 plain. To be sure, after a winter of Wag- 
 nerian harmonies, Verdi's music sounded 
 somewhat colorless, but oh ! the language ! 
 I cannot tell you what a peaceful, refreshing 
 change it was to hear a soft Cielo ! issue 
 from the soprano's lips, instead of the Ach, 
 Gott ! to which we were accustomed ; and 
 to remark how easily the tenor floated along 
 on broad ahs instead of struggling over a 
 succession of gutturals. Don't imagine that 
 I sneer at German. It is a grand, strong 
 language, but for song there is nothing in 
 the world like this melodious tongue of the 
 South. 
 
 16 [ o 41 j 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 n ii Tmm t mm inriimiiixixxxixxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxixxxxxxrxxxxxxxiiiiTn 
 
 We were surprised and pleased to meet 
 
 in the lobby Mr. P , a Harvard man 
 
 whom I had met at college. He is study- 
 ing voice in Milan, and told me not a little 
 about student life here. It seems that it is 
 the height of a singer's ambition to make 
 his debut at La Scala which Toscanini, the 
 conductor, rules with a rod of iron. The 
 students receive no advantages in the way 
 of tickets, as our Kategorie-Karten afford 
 us in Munich. He also told me that opera 
 monopolizes the field of music. 
 
 " It is true that Toscanini gives a series 
 of orchestral concerts after the season, but 
 they are, as a rule, unsuccessful," he said. 
 "We have small chance to study purely 
 orchestral music." 
 
 " Are many Wagner operas produced 
 here ? " I asked.^ 
 
 " Oh, yes, Wagner is growing in favor, 
 but the Italians love best their own school." 
 
 The tenor, Zenatello, who sang Ricardo, 
 seemed to be a great favorite. The audience 
 applauded and cheered him repeatedly. Mr. 
 
 P says he has been on the stage but a 
 
 [ 242 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 t l l l l lTT T TTTITITII T I I I X I III I IITIlIXIX IIiriXXmilllllll lllllll l lllllllllllllJ 
 
 short time. There was one singer of whom 
 the people decidedly disapproved, to judge 
 by the hissing which greeted him every time 
 he made his appearance. I really pitied 
 him, although he did sing atrociously. 
 
 The curtain fell at twelve o'clock. To 
 our surprise a ballet, or rather a pantomime 
 followed. It was a most elaborate produc- 
 tion lasting an hour, but had nothing to do 
 with what went before, and to tell the truth 
 I was too sleepy to enjoy it much. And 
 now good night. We are off for the lakes 
 on Monday. 
 
 [ 243 ] 
 
j T n Tt ni tiiii i iT tt t miniiii ii i i iiii t iiiii i iiiiiuiii i iii:riii;i:iii r m 
 
 X 
 
 tTT IHHI TTTtimillHIIIIIIIIITlIlIIIIIIIlIllIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlIlrllllXlX 
 
rr mT inririiTTiiii i iTTTT»n TTTtT t y T-rr rn . TirrirD 
 
 m illllirmmilllTrrTTTlllT TlH I l T IT TTT Ttt l T IT TT li r 
 
 Munich, May 11. 
 Cecilia dear: — 
 
 F X7" E HAVE SEEN THE LAKES 
 m/t/ and are back in the pension once 
 * v more. Although 1 intended to 
 
 send you a line from there we have been so 
 constantly on the go that letter-writing has 
 been an impossibility. Of course we "did " 
 Milan thoroughly. On Easter morning we 
 heard mass at the glorious cathedral. The 
 music, rendered by two boy choirs with or- 
 gan accompaniment, was very fine. After it 
 was over we climbed up on the roof. As I 
 stood there among the myriads of fairy-like 
 spires, carved columns and slender pinnacles, 
 I realized for the first time the meaning of 
 that oft-quoted phrase, " architecture is 
 frozen music." It was as though a whole 
 orchestra were playing con sordini. 
 
 We had a delightful trip to Pallanza, row- 
 ing across to Tsola Bella, where Napoleon 
 slept before the battle of Marengo, and on 
 to Menaggio and mountain-girt Lugano ; 
 but of all the places I saw Bellagio remains 
 [247 J 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 tT IH I I T T TITTTTTIITTTT HI I T TTItTII H tlTI ITIIII T I I X I I I IIIII T I TI II T I t l TITrTTrn 
 
 in my memory as the most charming. I 
 think der Hebe Gott must have said to 
 Himself, " Here I will make the loveliest 
 spot in the world." I cannot begin to 
 describe it to you, but will try to tell you 
 about it when I return. 
 
 At our first dinner after we came back we 
 were surprised to find Frau von Waldfel in 
 her old place. We had expected she would 
 remain much longer in Berlin. Fraulein's 
 chair was, however, empty, and I learned 
 that she was ill. 
 
 " She is overtired," explained her aunt ; 
 " but if she does not improve by to-morrow 
 I shall call a physician." 
 
 During the entire meal she spoke much 
 more gently than is her wont, and did not 
 engage in a single discussion about her food. 
 I really think she is anxious concerning 
 Fraulein's health. 
 
 The time seems frightfully short as I look 
 ahead and realize that in two months it will 
 all be over. I wish, indeed, that the days 
 were longer. I am working very hard just 
 now ; there is so much to accomplish by the 
 [248] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 lIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITlIIIIIIIIIITIIIIIXIXIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTn 
 
 end of June ! After all, life is a grand op- 
 portunity to develop the possibilities in a 
 person, and although the greater part of us 
 who want to do something worth while will 
 never attain our goal, I believe we are all 
 the broader and better for the struggle. 
 Heigho ! The little brown bird on the tree 
 outside squints up his eyes and says in very 
 translatable German bird-talk, " Cease phi- 
 losophizing, American stranger, and set to 
 work on the thing which lies nearest." 
 Therefore, good-by for the present, and a 
 fresh attack on my fugue ! 
 
 Tuesday evening. 
 
 The doctor came to see Fraulein Hartmann 
 last week and has been here daily since. This 
 morning he pronounced her illness pneu- 
 monia. Every one in the house from Georg 
 and Gretchen to the Poet himself feels very 
 anxious about her. A quiet, black-gowned 
 sister of charity has been installed as nurse, 
 and the farther end of the floor below trans- 
 formed into a miniature hospital. Lieu- 
 tenant Blum daily inquires after the patient. 
 [249] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 axxxxJXBXt iiimtiininiiJiT» i»nmm»ninuiii»»H i Hm 3 
 
 If he does not come himself he sends his 
 orderly. 
 
 Yesterday as I chanced to look out of the 
 window I noticed a young man seated on a 
 bench under the trees looking intently up 
 at the house. His glance seemed to be 
 directed towards Fraulein Hartmann's win- 
 dow. A half-hour later I saw him walk 
 slowly, thoughtfully away. It was the same 
 man who was in the arbor at the carnival 
 ball — and must be Heinrich. You may be 
 sure that I shall keep you informed about 
 the Fraulein, for she is very much in my 
 thoughts at present. 
 
 The one break in my regular routine of 
 study this week has been a visit to the 
 clubhouse, or Corpskaus, as they say here, 
 of the Suevia. Mutterchen and I were the 
 guests of Herr Martens, who belongs to this 
 student club. To my mind the most inter- 
 esting thing about the house is that it was 
 originally built by Ludwig II. for Richard 
 Wagner. 
 
 We entered by a side door which led into 
 a hall. On the right was a counter and 
 [250 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 mu m i n i » iii mumiunummii i!iiiiiii i ! ii niiiiii i ii iiiiii T !T t T ri 
 
 above it, around it and beneath it, hung 
 hundreds of beer steins decorated with the 
 arms of the corps. On the left was a high 
 rack full of pipes, beneath which were rows 
 of short jackets trimmed with black, blue 
 and white, the club colors. On a shelf was 
 a pile of round black caps with bands of 
 blue and white. 
 
 We passed through the low door into the 
 hall or Kneipe. It is a handsome room 
 decorated with flags, shields and foils. The 
 furniture is dark and very richly carved. At 
 the farther end the ceiling is dome-shaped and 
 frescoed with the arms of the corps. Here 
 the students meet evenings. The other 
 rooms of the house are far less elaborate, 
 and almost all contain pictures of students 
 duelling, for in order to enter this exclusive 
 club one must first of all be a good fighter. 
 
 The bowling-alley was a failure as a bowl- 
 ing-alley, but as a picture gallery it was a 
 great success. Around the room ran a 
 double row of students' photographs, about 
 five inches in height. There were all sorts 
 of students and they never failed to have 
 [251] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 iTITTTTt TTII t T HXIX T HIIIUl TTimHIIXIIXXIXIXXXIXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXrTS 
 
 the scarred side of their faces towards 
 the camera. Each wore the cap of their 
 corps. 
 
 " Now I must take you into the main 
 house. This is only the ell, you know," 
 said our guide. 
 
 "And — and do you fight there?" asked 
 Mutterchen hesitatingly. I think she had 
 visions of walking in on a crowd of masked 
 creatures fiercely plunging at one another 
 with swords. 
 
 Herr Martens laughed in hearty German 
 fashion. " There is a small room up six 
 flights in a house not far away," he said. 
 " We hire it especially for fighting. You 
 know that duelling of any sort is strictly 
 prohibited by the police. But if one is n't a 
 good fighter he cannot join the corps, so of 
 course we have to have a place where we 
 can fight secretly." 
 
 I glanced at his deeply scarred cheek and 
 remarked that I had seen several students 
 on the Parada Sunday wearing tightly fit- 
 ting black skull-caps. 
 
 " That is because they have head injuries," 
 [252] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 [T I IITIIIIII I I I I I IIIIIII I T III IIIItllll ll U I IIITIIIIl T T I III IIttTT II ITTtTTTrTn 
 
 he explained. Then he added proudly, " I 
 have forty-two scars." 
 
 Matter ch en gasped. I endeavored to 
 look properly impressed. 
 
 " But what do you find to fight about in 
 these peaceful times ? " I asked, after what 
 I considered to be a reverential pause. 
 
 "Oh, anything serves as a pretext,'' he 
 answered, quite frankly. "The students 
 are always quarrelling over something or 
 other. It 's rather good fun to settle it by 
 swords." 
 
 " And at home they call football brutal," 
 murmured Mutter chen in my ear. 
 
 Making our way through reading-rooms, 
 lounging-rooms and card-rooms, we came 
 out on a delightful roof-garden. 
 
 " We sit out dances here when we have a 
 ball," said Hen* Martens. 
 
 Miltterchen and I both waxed enthusiastic, 
 not only over the garden, but over the whole 
 house, which compares very favorably with 
 our handsomest college clubhouses in Amer- 
 ica. The only incongruous feature was the 
 air-tight stove in every room. This fact 
 I 258 J 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 brings forcibly to mind that in spite of 
 everything else Germany is years and years 
 behind us in comforts and conveniences. 
 
 I have been so busy lately that I have 
 studied evenings too, so have heard but one 
 opera since my return. That was " Louise," 
 by the French composer Charpentier. It is 
 distinctly modern and extremely interesting. 
 Some of the scenes belong to the real opera 
 comique. There is one laid in a dressmaker's 
 establishment. The curtain rises on a room 
 full of girls sewing and gossiping. Sud- 
 denly a band is heard and the tramp of feet. 
 You would have laughed to see the girls 
 jump up on the tables and crane their necks 
 to get a view of the soldiers out of the win- 
 dow ! The finale is very effective and the 
 whole thing has the merit of being essentially 
 realistic. There is no coloratura soprano 
 carolling gayly in the neighborhood of 
 high C about her broken heart. There is no 
 basso profundo singing a drinking song, and 
 at the end descending diatonically till he 
 lands on low D, solemnly assuring us there 
 is nothing like 
 
 [254] 
 
iiiii i i i i i i;iiit:; i ti i ttiti iii i i iiiiii i iiiiiiiii t iiii i iiiiiiii i i i iiii iititit; 
 
 An American Girl in Munich 
 
 f A A A II 
 
 « — * — *- 
 
 Wi - i - ine. di - vine. 
 
 nor any of the other traditional absurdities 
 which we accept as a matter of course. On 
 the other hand, it seems to me that real- 
 ism carried to the nth degree is quite as ridic- 
 ulous. In the fourth scene of the first act, 
 Louise (charmingly sung by Morena) with 
 her father and mother sit around a table in 
 the centre of the stage for fully five minutes 
 without uttering a syllable. What do you 
 think they are doing ? Eating soup ! Mean- 
 while the orchestra is playing beautiful 
 music, elaborating a theme which I called 
 motif du pot age. To what are we coming 
 next? 
 
 Our table is not so deserted as you might 
 imagine, in spite of the absence of Frau von 
 Waldfel and her niece, for Fraulein Werner, 
 the novelist, has come to stay some weeks 
 at the pension. She is an odd-looking 
 woman with shrewd brown eyes, red cheeks 
 and very black hair. She talks a great deal 
 [255] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rT », m . ini y iiiifTTTiiniiiiiTiii i imiiixxmm i m iiia 
 
 and is decidedly interesting. You know 
 that almost all her novels have been trans- 
 lated into English and are much read in 
 America. She is, therefore, greatly inter- 
 ested in our country and asks many ques- 
 tions about it, although she declares that 
 her fear of the sea will prevent her from 
 ever setting foot on our shores. 
 
 Between you and me, I have generally 
 found that people who "do things" are 
 horrible bores socially. Nevertheless they 
 have a certain charm, and that reminds 
 me to tell you that I am to meet the 
 opera singer Morena on Friday. Madame 
 
 A is to give an informal tea for her 
 
 and has asked me to come. You can 
 fancy how delighted I am, for I can never 
 forget her well-nigh perfect rendering of 
 Leonora in Fidelio and her Elizabeth in 
 Tannhauser. 
 
 Sunday. 
 
 Such an enjoyable time as we had at 
 
 Madame A 's tea on Friday. We 
 
 were entertained in the cosiest of roof-gar- 
 [256] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 muui i i iii imiiiinmmiiiiunmmiiu mii ..,,, rTT T T1 
 
 dens, high up above the noise of the city. 
 Morena did not arrive till late, but Burger, 
 one of the leading tenors at the opera house, 
 was there with his pretty young bride. He 
 it was who sang Siegmund in Die WaUcUre. 
 At half-past five came the sound of laughter 
 on the stairs, the sharp barking of a dog, and 
 — enter Morena, dressed in a white gown 
 with a big black picture hat. "What a 
 glorious creature!" I said to myself. I 
 have told you that she is very tall and hand- 
 some, with beautiful dark eyes. Her man- 
 ner is utterly unaffected and charming. In 
 five minutes she was laughing and chatter- 
 ing with us all, and consuming numerous 
 chocolate cakes with all the enthusiasm of a 
 child. Later it was my good fortune to 
 have a talk with her all by myself in the 
 course of which she asked many questions 
 about America. She intends crossing 
 within a short time, for it seems that Con- 
 ried has heard her sing and wants to intro- 
 duce her to New York audiences. 
 
 After she had gone — she stayed only 
 half an hour — we all went into the music- 
 17 [ 257 J 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 tT imin TiTiii mi i iiixiiiiiii iii iiiiiii x iix x ixx iixiiixiiix mixiixiiiiinn 
 
 room and heard a young American singer 
 who has taken the stage name of de Zara * 
 sing several selections from the roles 
 of Carmen and Santuzza. It was a great 
 treat to hear her, for she has a voice of 
 unusual promise. I wish you could have 
 been with us ! As a souvenir you shall 
 see Morena's photograph which I shall bring 
 back, with her autograph across the corner. 
 
 These are such busy days ! We are 
 finishing up the work at the school and re- 
 hearsing Berlioz's " Childhood of Christ " for 
 the closing concert. This afternoon at my 
 piano hour the little Boer girl did n 't come, 
 so I had double my usual time for reading 
 at sight. Fraulein Fischer and I played the 
 Saint- Saens variations on a theme of Beet- 
 hoven's for two pianos. Do you know it ? 
 I think it great, especially the big fugue at 
 the end. 
 
 We have made two out-of-town trips 
 lately, one to Starnberger-See and the other 
 to the Isar-Thal. But it is time for me 
 to go to my lesson now, so I shall have 
 
 1 She died in Munich the following year. 
 
 [258] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rTti»i iii TiTir i * i i T T i iii T;iiiT iii ii i i i i i iiiiiii i i i i iixi iiiiiixixxiiiiiiix irn 
 
 to save telling you about them till another 
 time. 
 
 Believe me, dearest of friends, 
 
 As ever and always, — 
 
 M. 
 
 Fraulein Hartmann is about the same, 
 and the doctor assures us that there is no 
 immediate danger. 
 
 [259] 
 
 4 
 
cmncir aii i ii i iiT i ni i i i riniii ii i i xmniiiii iiirix iiTiTii iiiiim rTTT Tn 
 
 XI 
 
 . »» »i u««K»m t m i niiiiimnmimmiHmm mmmi»r 
 
pmu 
 
 i Tt TiTi!H i Ti i iT i in i tiTii i T iT;iTT»irTrniiiim nir, TnitIIIll 
 
 ^TTTITtTTTTTTITI I TTTIItllTTTITTTTTTTTTTIIIIIIIirYTmTIIIII IIXZma^L. 
 
 June 28. 
 
 CONFUSION REIGNED ON THE 
 floor below between the hours of four 
 and five to-day — a somewhat muffled 
 confusion, to be sure, for the proximity of the 
 sick-room forbade any violent outburst, but 
 none the less confusion of a most exciting 
 character. As I came in from my com- 
 position lesson I found maids running this 
 way and that, their arms full of clothing and 
 packages. Georg and an unknown Dienst- 
 mann were carrying a trunk downstairs; 
 Frau von Waldfel was kneeling before a 
 hamper, giving orders through the open 
 door of her room, while the Poet's Wife, a 
 hat-box in one hand and a parrot cage in the 
 other, was endeavoring to preserve order in 
 the midst of chaos. She came out to speak 
 to me as I halted on the landing. 
 
 "Frau von Waldfel has just received a 
 telegram demanding her immediate presence 
 in Budapest; 1 she explained. " Some serious 
 business complications have arisen, and she 
 is hurrying to catch the six o'clock train to- 
 I 268 | 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 ! IIII II II ! itIHHII I IITHI»TH I II] 
 
 night. Fraulein knows nothing of this and 
 we do not dare excite her. Frau von Wald- 
 fel is greatly distressed at the thought of 
 leaving her, and so I have offered to take 
 charge of the sick-room during her absence." 
 
 " That is so like you," I said, impulsively. 
 " I '11 just leave my music books upstairs and 
 come directly back, for perhaps I can be of 
 some help." 
 
 When I returned Frau von Waldfel was 
 standing in the hall, dressed for the journey. 
 She looked anxious and preoccupied as she 
 shook hands in a perfunctory manner and 
 counted her bag, her bundle, her umbrellas 
 and her parrot cage three times before allow- 
 ing the servants to carry them down to the 
 droschky waiting below. Then occurred 
 something which makes me regard her in a 
 far more kindly light than I have been wont 
 to do. She took the hands of the Poet's 
 Wife in both her own. 
 
 " What should I have done without you ! " 
 
 she said. I never dreamed that her voice 
 
 could be so gentle. " Take care of the child 
 
 and let me know daily how she is. Years 
 
 [264] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 r TTTTTIIT tlll TTTI I I IlIlIIIIlll IXXI i millHI IIIIIXXXlIIIlIIIIi m XXXXO 
 
 ago I lost a little one of my own — the only 
 child I ever had — and I could n't bear to 
 lose Minna too. Here, Georg," with a sud- 
 den change to her old peremptory manner, 
 " take this bag down." 
 
 She turned to descend the stairs but there 
 were tears, actually tears in her eyes, which 
 softened their beady hardness and made 
 them almost beautiful. 
 
 " Poor woman ! " said the Poet's Wife 
 softly, as we heard the rattle of departing 
 wheels. 
 
 Then she hurried off to prepare the Frau- 
 lein's gruel, and I came up to write you. 
 Really I do not know whom to pity most, 
 Frau von Waldfel, the dear Fraulein, or 
 Heinrich, who is eating his heart out from 
 day to day. 
 
 Now to tell you of some of the things I 
 have been doing lately. First, I heard Die 
 Mcistcrsingcr for the second time. If one 
 were to see a hundred productions of this 
 wonderful work I am sure he would discover 
 new beauties on the hundred and first hear- 
 ing ! Is there anything more lovely than the 
 [ 265 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 quintette ? Is there anything more marvel- 
 lously worked out than that street scene ? 
 Once I was so impressed by the complexity 
 of the score that I actually forgot to listen 
 and simply sat and wondered at the genius 
 of Wagner. Feinhals was the Hans Sach, 
 Fraulein Koboth, Eva, and Geis, Beckmes- 
 ser. The opera began at six and was not 
 over till after eleven, with two pauses of 
 fifteen minutes each between the acts. You 
 would have laughed to see the bored expres- 
 sions of two Americans who sat next us. 
 They declared to each other, thinking doubt- 
 less that there was no one to understand 
 them, that they never were so glad in their 
 lives when the final curtain fell. Why on 
 earth didn't they rise and go out? Not 
 two minutes later I saw them again in the 
 Garderobe, and overheard the gentleman say 
 to another American whom he had met, " De- 
 lightful, was it not ? " while his wife joined 
 in with, " Is n't Wagner simply delicious ? " 
 O departed gods of Olympus, is there any- 
 thing more disheartening than this Fashion- 
 able Insincerity ? 
 
 [me] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 fTTTTTTTITTT I IT I ITT TYTTTTTTTTTTTTTTIII IllZ TXTXTT m i U IIIIIIIIIIIlI IIIIII II H 
 
 If my remarks about Fashionable Insin- 
 cerity and Modern Indifference (for they 
 are formidable enough to be capitalized) 
 would seem to show a disbelief in the exist- 
 ence of that simple faith which the poet 
 assures us is better than a long line of ances- 
 tors, believe me, appearances are misleading, 
 for even if I had had a tendency in that di- 
 rection the Corpus Christi celebrations would 
 have banished it on the spot. These will 
 always remain to me beautiful and sacred, 
 and as an indisputable proof that Simplicity 
 and Sincerity do not belong solely to a dis- 
 tant past. 
 
 On Corpus Christi morning we were 
 called at six o'clock in order not to miss 
 the great procession which for hundreds of 
 years has annually on this day wended its 
 way through the streets of the city. As we 
 walked towards Max-Joseph-Platz we found 
 everywhere the most charming decorations. 
 Instead of conventional banners and bunting, 
 rows of fresh green birch trees about six 
 feet high were fastened against the houses 
 as if growing up from the sidewalk. From 
 [ 267 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 mn i i i imiinii TT i i n i iim ii iiiiixii i ixxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx x xxx z x xixxxxxxxxm 
 
 the window ledges hung square pieces of 
 cloth of red and blue. On turning into 
 Theatiner-strasse what was our surprise to 
 find a great altar erected in the very centre 
 of the street. It was high and triangular 
 in form, outlined by these same delicate 
 birch trees. Yellow draperies of satin con- 
 cealed the wooden framework itself. In 
 the centre was a great crucifix, and the 
 sight of this sacred symbol in the midst of 
 a busy thoroughfare was startlingly impres- 
 sive. Through the middle of the street, 
 where the procession was to pass, grass had 
 been strewn. But just as we reached the 
 cafe the rain began to fall in torrents. This 
 was the end of it for that day. The altar 
 was hastily demolished, carts were driven 
 up to carry away the draperies, and people 
 with disappointed faces came crowding 
 under cover. We learned that the pro- 
 cession must be postponed till Sunday, 
 although the Prince Regent and the golden 
 carriages — such an important feature of 
 the occasion — would not appear. 
 
 Somewhat crestfallen, we returned to the 
 [268] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 r ti iT ii i miiinm»"m»"ii»T m inm iir iI l l mii»ii»»"»» i »» ii 
 
 pension. But by Sunday our interest had 
 again awakened. This time it was not till 
 eight o'clock that we stationed ourselves on 
 a balcony overlooking the street, from which 
 point we had an excellent view of the 
 procession below. First came a number of 
 priests in splendid robes, bearing a holy 
 banner. Then followed a double row of 
 little girls on each side of the street. Some 
 of them could not have been over three 
 years old. They were all dressed in white, 
 with white wreaths on their heads, and 
 carried bouquets of vari-colored blossoms. 
 Between the two double rows were four 
 little tots bearing the image of the Virgin. 
 You have no idea what a lovely picture 
 they made. Then came a brass band with 
 a choir of bareheaded boys and students 
 singing hymns. Behind were more priests 
 with banners ; a body of young girls in white, 
 carrying unlighted tapers and chanting 
 prayers in unison ; sisters of charity, school- 
 girls, then another band and a choir of older 
 men, singing. .Just below the house was 
 one of these altars which I have described, 
 [ 269 | 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 gT I*» » I *TTTTTTTT I tITITIT I l I IT*IIIIIIXIIIIIIXIIIXIXXIIXIX XIIXXIIXI IIXXIIXXrm 
 
 built on the sidewalk against the side of a 
 building. When the procession stopped for 
 a few minutes a service was held here, 
 several priests stepping out from their places 
 in line to officiate. Those who were near 
 turned towards the altar and followed the 
 rites, while the others kept on with their 
 praying and singing with intense devoutness 
 and earnestness. 
 
 I wish I might describe to you how 
 solemn and impressive it was — the voices 
 of the chanting priests ; the murmur of 
 prayers rising from hundreds of lips ; the 
 distant music of those grand old chorals ; 
 the incense, floating up in thin clouds from 
 the swinging censers below; above all the 
 absolute simplicity and devotion of the 
 people. My eyes filled with tears. Skepti- 
 cism, doubt, hypocrisy, seemed to be 
 merely delusions of another world. Un- 
 consciously the lines of the Persian poet 
 came to my mind, and I murmured softly 
 to myself, 
 
 " He that tossed you down into the Field, 
 He knows about it all — He knows — He knows ! " 
 [270] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 r»Tt»»ii i>iiiiiiiiiiiiii ixixxjLxxiuMnm mxnjmx i iiii n i i:ririi iii » :x i» i 
 
 The school year at the Conservatory 
 closes with examinations for which I am 
 now preparing. Then as my last task 
 Thuille desires that I write an overture. 
 (A finale would seem more appropriate, 
 would n't it ?) My second theme came in a 
 moment, but I wrote fully a dozen first 
 themes before I found one which would 
 answer my purpose. Now I am doing the 
 most interesting part of all — the scoring 
 for orchestra. Of course this is only for 
 practice and I never expect to hear it 
 played, but as Mr. Chadwick used to say, 
 " The only way to learn how to compose is to 
 compose," so good-by, while I go on with 
 the development section. 
 
 [271] 
 
: i iii xn :i iiiiimi i iiiiiiiiMiTiiiiiKimi»iiMiini»i ni ti n ,,,T,TT> 
 
 XII 
 
 H l »»mi ll MMIIIHIlIimiimillliHTiiiimi»TT inMi»t T .iiimM^ 
 
gIXmH TITTTIIII >TltlIIIIli rmTIIirTI IIZIlIIXXm XXXXXrmT TTTTH IIXIXXXX 
 
 gnnniiii m:iimu m xi miiuiixmu ini»» n 
 
 July 10. 
 
 >^y OOD NEWS AT LAST ABOUT 
 
 m Friiulein Hartmann ! The crisis is 
 
 \^>* past and she is much better. We 
 all feel so relieved, especially the Poet's 
 Wife, who is beginning to show the strain of 
 the past weeks. Frau von Waldfel writes 
 that her affairs are in a far worse condition 
 than she anticipated. In fact she appears to 
 be greatly disturbed, which accounts for her 
 having written but twice since she went away. 
 Lieutenant Blum called yesterday. He has 
 been here but once since Frau von Waldfel's 
 departure. Doesn't that strike you as 
 rather extraordinary ? I was in the room 
 when he came, and I could but notice how 
 closely he questioned the Poet's Wife about 
 Frau von Waldfel's last letter. Indeed he 
 seemed much more interested in her business 
 troubles than in the condition of his fiancee. 
 Is it possible that it is only her money that 
 he is after ? To tell the truth the thought has 
 occurred to me before, but I never deemed 
 it worthy of consideration till now, 
 [ 275 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 m T mnnmiiniiiiimxixixixx x xxixx x xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x xxx x xxixi x xiiiri T i 
 
 Every day the Fraulein receives beautiful 
 blue flowers such as one finds in the Isar- 
 Thal if one looks carefully enough. The 
 servants think they are the gift of her 
 betrothed, so do not gossip over his non- 
 appearance, but the Poet's Wife and I know 
 better. We have not seen Heinrich daily 
 pacing to and fro in the park opposite with- 
 out learning many things. Do you know, 
 when I see him looking up with yearning 
 eyes at Fraulein's window, I always think 
 of the poet in Bernard Shaw's " Candida." 
 The expression of Heinrich's face says as 
 plainly as words, " We hold our tongues. 
 Does that stop the cry of the heart ? — for 
 it does cry: doesn't it? It must, if you 
 have a heart." 
 
 Yesterday and to-day examinations were 
 held at the Conservatory. At eight o'clock 
 all the professors appeared in the dignity of 
 frock coats and black ties. They shut 
 themselves up in a large room on the top 
 floor, and one by one the pupils were called 
 in to be examined before them. The only 
 [276] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 [ntuuiiummn" 1 """'""""" 111 "" 1 " 1 " 111 " 1 " 11 " "" 11 " 1 " 1 
 
 examination which was really trying was 
 that in the history of music. Had it been 
 a written one I should have approached it 
 with only the usual nervousness, but an oral 
 test is quite a different thing when one is 
 a foreigner. All the pupils filed in together 
 and sat in a single row on the platform. 
 Before us was the formidable mass of profes- 
 sors with folded arms. Just in front of them 
 was Stavenhagen behind a table and two 
 other men who wrote down what we said. 
 Before the director was a box full of paper 
 slips on which were written the questions. 
 When a pupil's name was called, he went to 
 the box, drew three questions, and declaimed 
 his answers to the joint audience of pupils and 
 teachers. As I have told you, whenever I 
 am nervous my German becomes affected in 
 a peculiar fashion. I find myself forgetting 
 words with remarkable rapidity and I insist 
 on employing the English order of expres- 
 sion, which, to a Miinchener, is nothing less 
 than a mild form of madness. However, I 
 managed to get through by not allowing 
 the amused faces of the onlookers to trouble 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 rmrnnmummmmiim i nmm nnni imum 
 
 me, and although I discovered afterwards 
 that I had called " The Damnation of 
 Faust" an oratorio and had mixed my 
 genders in the most ludicrous fashion, I 
 was successfully "passed." 
 
 Now only the concert remains before the 
 school closes for the summer. Then we are 
 to take our final trip before sailing for home. 
 Our itinerary has been specially planned to 
 include places of musical interest and we are 
 to go to Mozart's birthplace, Salzburg ; Leip- 
 sic, crowded with memories of Bach and 
 Wagner ; Vienna where Beethoven, Schu- 
 bert, and Brahms lie buried ; Berlin, Dresden, 
 and Bremen. We may run down to Buda- 
 pest, since we are so near, and thus have an 
 opportunity to hear a bona fide Hungarian 
 orchestra. Isn't that fine, and does n't it 
 make you long to be with us ? 
 
 Now no more for the present, my dear, 
 as I want my last lesson for Thuille to be a 
 good one, and my orchestration work is 
 unfinished. 
 
 [278] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 July 17. 
 
 The blow has fallen ! To-day the 
 Friiulein received a letter from Frau von 
 Waldfel, saying that she has lost everything, 
 even her personal property, through an un- 
 wise investment. The poor woman is in great 
 distress of mind with lawyers, creditors, and 
 what not, but these lines at the end of her 
 letter impressed me more strongly than all 
 the rest: "I have just heard from Lieu- 
 tenant Blum. He writes that he releases 
 you from your betrothal, 'realizing that 
 in this present trouble Friiulein Hartmann 
 can have no heart for festivities.' The sly 
 fellow has had private information of my 
 affairs here, and doubtless learned that if I 
 scrape together all I have there will be just 
 enough for your dowry and no more. Evi- 
 dently he had hopes of living on my income 
 after you both were married. It seems as 
 though my present ill-fortune were enough 
 without enduring this fresh disappointment/' 
 My cheeks burned with indignation as I 
 read. " The English employ a word which 
 [279] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 [Tin»nT i in iii TnniTmm niTHHmiimiimimmmmiiiiTniiTTTi 
 
 just suits this officer of the German army, 
 and that is cad!" said I, decisively. 
 
 Fraulein Hartmann looked at the blue 
 flowers in her lap and smiled gently. There 
 was a light in her eyes — a light indefinably 
 beautiful — that I had never seen there 
 before. 
 
 " Poor Auntie deserves all the sympathy 
 you can give her," she said, " but as for my- 
 self — well, I have n't been as happy for 
 months. I feel as though a great weight had 
 been lifted from my heart. After all, Meine 
 Amerikanerin? she continued naively, " don't 
 you think that people are happier without a 
 lot of money to look after ? Although six 
 months ago the thought of all the delightful 
 things money could buy " 
 
 " Including a lieutenant ? " I interrupted, 
 involuntarily. 
 
 "Yes, including a lieutenant," she smil- 
 ingly went on, " dazzled me, and made me 
 a bit contemptuous of my Mannheim sur- 
 roundings, now I really believe that our 
 little home there is the loveliest, dearest spot 
 in the whole world." 
 
 [280] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 ri mTi iiiimiiim:i iix ; iiim m!iii;m m iit iMii Ti TnmriT ii inT t i T T ri 
 
 " With Heinrich next door," I added. 
 
 "Perhaps nearer than next door," said 
 the Poet's Wife, caressing the girl's blushing 
 cheek, "at least if we are to believe what 
 he told us this morning." 
 
 " Dear," said the Fraulein, taking my 
 hand in hers and speaking in those sweet, 
 earnest tones which made her so winning, 
 "did you think me very wicked and de- 
 ceitful that night at the carnival ball ? It 
 has troubled me so much — the thought 
 that you must despise me " 
 
 " I won't allow you to say that," I inter- 
 posed hastily. 
 
 " Yes, it always is a despicable thing to 
 do — to deceive," she continued ; " but I did 
 so want to talk to Heinrich, and explain to 
 him how things were. He wrote me a piti- 
 ful letter, begging to see me just once, and 
 I was so unhappy that I finally devised that 
 meeting. Now that we have been through 
 all this I feel sure that my parents will have 
 no objections to our marrying. They have 
 always been fond of Heinrich. It was only 
 the thought of my brilliant match that 
 [281 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 made them ignore, as it were, his very 
 existence." 
 
 "Just as soon as she is well enough to 
 travel I am going to take her home," said 
 the Poet's Wife to me. " Heinrich is wait- 
 ing here in Munich to go down with us. 
 He is doing very well, by the bye, in his law 
 work." 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said Fraulein eagerly, " and 
 sometimes next year when — when we are 
 settled — you will come down and visit us — 
 promise you will, meine Amerikanerin /" 
 
 I promised, and lingered a few moments 
 longer to learn more of her plans. Then 
 the Poet's Wife insisted that she had had 
 excitement enough for one day, and we both 
 left her leaning back in her chair and, with 
 an expression of unutterable happiness, gaz- 
 ing dreamily out over the swaying tree-tops 
 of the Platz. 
 
 At three o'clock I was at Ainmtiller-strasse 
 for my last lesson with Herr Professor. Did 
 I tell you that some weeks ago I made a 
 translation into English of the Rosenlied 
 (Rose-song) by Anna Hitter ? Thuille has 
 [282] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 tHIITIIITIIIIITITITTIIIITIIITIIIIIIITtTTTITITIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHTTTTITIirm 
 
 written a three-part song for women's voices 
 to these charming words and asked me if I 
 would put them into English for him. To- 
 day he gave me the first published copy 
 and wrote across the bottom the following 
 inscription: " Meiner Helen Schillerin; zur 
 freundliehen Erinnerung. L. Thuille." (To 
 my dear pupil in friendly remembrance. 
 L. Thuille.) 
 
 I had brought as my lesson the overture 
 for orchestra on which I have been spending 
 considerable time lately, and a little song 
 which occurred to me the other day at Tut- 
 zing. Nothing pleases Thuille so much as 
 a completed piece of work, so I had worked 
 very hard to finish the overture in time ; in 
 fact, even sitting up late at night, which is 
 against all rules. He was pleased with the 
 result and declared the song to be the best 
 thing of its kind that I have done this year, 
 which made me very happy. I did not mind 
 that my eyes were tired. 
 
 " Take a good rest, Fraulein," he said. 
 " You must surely come back to us all next 
 year. And here is a souvenir, so that you 
 [283 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 'TTTTII IIIT TTTI HIIII TT1 IIIIX1ITIIITIIIIIIII I I XIXIXIX I I IIII I I 3 
 
 will not forget your old teacher when you 
 are in far-away America." 
 
 The souvenir proved to be a photograph 
 of himself, taken from the large oil painting 
 which hangs in the salon. Beneath it he had 
 written his name with some bars of music 
 from Gugeline. 
 
 I thanked him repeatedly as we shook 
 hands. Then I went down stairs with a 
 vague regret in my heart as I realized that 
 the year's work was over. 
 
 On Tuesday evening occurred the closing 
 concert at the Conservatory. The stage 
 was decorated with plants, and a marble bust 
 of the Prince Regent occupied the place of 
 honor. We sang the " Childhood of Christ," 
 by Berlioz, which, as I wrote you, we have 
 lately been rehearsing. At the close of the 
 concert came the award of medals for special 
 excellency in the work of the school. Do 
 you not feel proud when I tell you that out 
 of the ten medals presented two were cap- 
 tured by American girls ? Miss Bartholo- 
 may from Buffalo, a pupil of Stavenhagen, 
 received one. Among the German girls I 
 [284 J 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 [ iiii i iiiiiii i iimiiTi i i i ii iiiiiixxzi in iiiiiiii n iiiiiii m iiiiii n i i i ii cr: 
 
 was especially glad that Fniulein Marianne 
 Briinner, of Vienna, was awarded a prize, for 
 I like her playing better than that of any 
 one else in the school. She is also a pupil 
 of Stavenhagen, and has unusual tempera- 
 ment and a splendid touch. 
 
 Miitterchen was very proud when it was 
 all over, and she found me in the dressing- 
 room exchanging congratulations with a 
 number of pupils. It was hard to say good- 
 by to them all, for the association which 
 study of any kind brings forms a certain 
 bond not easy to break. The little Boer 
 girl, who is to stay another year, is terribly 
 homesick for South Africa, and wept heart- 
 rendingly as we parted. The German girls 
 all wished me a "Gutc Rcisc" (pleasant jour- 
 ney), and bade me not forget Miinchen 
 when I was again on American soil ; my 
 Irish friend, who sits next me in the chorus, 
 promised to write and keep me informed of 
 all the doings in the school ; Friiulein Fischer 
 and Fran Bianci insisted that I come another 
 year and study with them, and Stavenhagen 
 shook hands heartily and wished me success. 
 I «86 ] 
 
An American Girl in Munich 
 
 ;TT H CT»I T ITTTTTTT H I ITTimT I IIIIIIIIIIIIlIII I III II III I IIIIIIIIIXIXI I IIIIIin 
 
 And now all that remains is to pack our 
 trunks and shake the dust of Munich from 
 our feet. I hate to leave the quaint old 
 city and these warm-hearted German people, 
 for 1 have grown very fond of both during 
 my stay. Then there is the Obelisk and 
 the Fountain, not to mention the other 
 friends we must leave behind us. Edith 
 and Louise have already gone to Paris, and 
 Polly is somewhere in the Hartz mountains 
 taking a holiday before starting for Vienna, 
 where she is to study with Lescheticsky. 
 In a few days we shall be scattered like 
 leaves before the wind, some this way and 
 some that. The year has been very rich in 
 experience and pleasure, but, believe me, I 
 shall not be sorry when we spread our sails 
 for the harbor of New York and say to these 
 friendly shores, " Auf wiedersehen" 
 
 [286] 
 
A Story of Colorado Life 
 
 Justin Wingate, Ranchman 
 
 By JOHN H. WHITSON 
 
 Author of " Barbara, a Woman of the West," " The Rainbow 
 
 Chasers," etc. 
 
 Illustrated. l zmo. $1.50 
 
 Another strong Western story with spirited and graphic 
 picturing of local conditions, the agricultural development of 
 a Western ranch section, and the struggle between the ranch- 
 men and the farmers. The story has three remarkably striking 
 scenes of danger — a high-grass fire, a stampede of excited 
 cattle, and a terrific storm and cloud-burst. There is abun- 
 dant love interest 5 also a strong political element, dealing 
 with Colorado politics and the fight between cattlemen and 
 irrigationists to control the legislature, in which the hero becomes 
 the storm centre. The attempt of a beautiful, crafty, and un- 
 scrupulous woman, who is a wrecker of hearts and of men, to 
 influence his vote for United States senator plays an important part. 
 
 A Tale of the Arizona Desert 
 
 CURLY 
 
 By ROGER POCOCK 
 
 Author of " Following the Frontier," etc. 
 
 Illustrated by Stanley L. Wood. \2mo. $1.50 
 
 A remarkable story of cattle ranges of Arizona, the great 
 deceit, and the grand canon of the Colorado river. The author 
 has written a romance of adventure, of conflict, and of love, — 
 a story of breathless interest, remarkable situation, and great 
 humor and pathos. Chalkeye, the cowboy who tells the story, 
 Captain McCalmont, the robber-chief, Lord Babshannon, the 
 owner of a Colorado ranch, hia son " Jim," and " Curly," who 
 gives the name to the Story, are characters of great strength, 
 finely portrayed ami well contrasted. 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, tf CO., Publishers 
 
 BOSTON, MASS. 
 
A Romance of South Africa 
 
 ON THE FIRING LINE 
 
 By ANNA CHAPIN RAY and 
 HAMILTON BROCK FULLER 
 
 With Frontispiece by H. W, Moore. \zmo. $1.50 
 
 In this fine romance of love and war Miss Ray has a wider 
 field than she has compassed before and strikes a deeper note of 
 feeling. The events take place in South Africa during the 
 Boer War, and in local details Mr. Fuller has given valuable 
 aid. As in the author's other books, the characters awaken 
 interest because they are so human. 
 
 By the Author of "A Rose of Normandy" 
 
 A KNOT OF BLUE 
 
 By WILLIAM R. A. WILSON 
 
 Illustrated by Ch. Griinwald. \zmo. $1.50 
 
 In a new tale of absorbing interest the author of the success- 
 ful "Rose of Normandy 1 ' has faithfully portrayed feminine 
 tenderness and sweetness of character, and at the same time has 
 shown that a work of fiction can have for its motif the gratifica- 
 tion of personal revenge without offending the highest moral 
 taste of the modern civilized world. " A Knot of Blue'* 
 abounds in intrigue, adventure, the joy of living and achieving, 
 and it throbs with romantic tenderness. The scene is laid in 
 Old Quebec. 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., Publishers 
 
 BOSTON, MASS. 
 
A Spell-binding Creation 
 
 Mysterious Mr. Sabin 
 
 By E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM 
 
 Author of " Anna the Adventuress," etc. 
 Illustrated. 397 pages. \imo. $1.50 
 
 Deals with an intrigue of international moment — the fomenting 
 of a war between Great Britain and Germany and the restoration 
 of the Bourbon monarchy in France as a consequence. Intensely 
 readable for the dramatic force with which the story is told, the 
 absolute originality of the underlying creative thought, and the 
 strength of all the men and women who fill the pages. — Pittsburg 
 Times. 
 
 Not for long has so good a story of the kind been published, 
 and the book is the more commendable because the literary 
 quality of its construction has not been slighted. — Chicago 
 Record-Herald. 
 
 By the Author of * ' The Shadow of the Czar ' ' 
 
 THE WEIRD PICTURE 
 
 By JOHN R. CARLING 
 
 Author of "The Viking's Skull," "The Shadow of the Czar," etc. 
 With Pictures by Cyrus Cuneo. \2rn0. $1.50 
 
 When a man is summoned home to attend the marriage to 
 another man of the woman he loves, and when the bridegroom 
 is his own brother, the situation is certainly very striking. 
 The wedding does not take place, for the bridegroom is 
 murdered. The scene in which the victim appears to his 
 brother, on the hitter's arrival ;tt Dover, is singularly impressive. 
 All this is disclosed in the opening chapter, and paves the way 
 *orv which becomes more and more intense and interesting 
 .1 it remarkable plot is developed. 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, fc? CO., Publishers 
 BOSTON, MASS. 
 
A Gallant Romance of Love and Daring 
 
 MY LADY CLANCARTY 
 
 By MARY IMLAY TAYLOR 
 
 Author of" On the Red Staircase," etc. 
 
 Illustrated by Alice Barber Stephens. nmo. $1.50 
 
 In this gallant romance of love and daring, in which the 
 action is swift, the characters are individual and interesting, and 
 the atmosphere and setting are well adapted to the theme. 
 Lady Elizabeth Spencer, daughter of Lord Sunderland, and 
 through his sordid and ambitious motives married at the age of 
 eleven to Lord Clancarty, makes the most charming of heroines, 
 and her nobility of character and faithful love are finely and 
 tenderly portrayed. 
 
 A St ory • of Adventure ^ Intrigue^ and Love 
 
 A PRINCE OF LOVERS 
 
 By SIR WILLIAM MAGNAY 
 
 Author of "The Red Chancellor," etc. 
 
 Illustrated by Cyrus Cuneo. \2mo. $1.50 
 
 In this new novel by Sir William Magnay, the heroine, 
 " Princess Ruperta," a princess of the blood royal, sick of the 
 monotony and unreality of Court, goes out one night, incognito, 
 with her maid. Danger unexpectedly threatens her, and when 
 she is gallantly rescued from this danger by a young and 
 handsome stranger, it is not unnatural that (betrothed com- 
 pulsorily as she is for State reasons to a royal person whom she 
 has never seen) love is born in the heart of the Princess as well 
 as in that of her unknown rescuer. Then follows a series of 
 adventures brilliantly imagined and enthrallingly told. 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., Publishers 
 
 BOSTON, MASS. 
 
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