The Intendant of the Royal Opera in Berlin is the personal representative of the Kaiser. He has the private ear of the sovereign, and is supposed to carry out his wishes in the conduct of the Royal Opera. To please him, therefore, would be a very great and unusual triumph.
Would I like to sing for him? It is easy to imagine my reply.
I made my preparations accordingly. With the care which I have always bestowed upon my costumes, I ordered an elaborate blue crêpe-de-Chine evening gown, to be worn with pearls and diamonds. I carefully studied anew the waltz song from "Juliet," the aria from "Traviata," and the bird song from "Pagliacci." Suddenly, to my consternation, Frau von Rath notified me that the audience, which was to be in her ballroom, would have to be held in the afternoon instead of the evening, as some occasion at the Palace necessitated the presence of the Intendant there at night.
I was desolate; but I agreed to sing, first begging Frau von Rath to draw the heavy curtains and turn on all the lights, as though for an evening function, so that I could wear my evening gown with the pearls and the diamonds. I can remember now the suppressed murmurs of "The crazy American!" when I appeared, but I obtained the compliment of immediate attention and created the effect I wished.
The Intendant of the Royal Opera at that time was Count von Hochberg, a charming, courteous gentleman, who was to show me many favors afterward. He heard me through, attended by a score of Frau von Rath's friends, and then asked me gravely if I had ever sung with an orchestra. I answered truthfully: "No."
"Would you like to sing with the orchestra of the Royal Opera?" he inquired.
"I should be delighted," was my prompt response.
"Do you sing in German?"
"I never have—yet," I replied.
