I did not exactly know what to sing; but Prince Metternich soon relieved my mind on that score by saying, "Don't bother about singing anything serious, and especially don't sing anything classical." The Princess Metternich could accompany anything which was not too difficult; therefore we thought I had better sing "Ma mère était bohémienne," of Massé, which I did. I saw directly that this melodramatic music, beautiful as it is, did not suit the occasion, for though the gaily attuned audience was visibly affected by the phrase, Et moi j'ai l'âme triste, they did not show more signs of emotion than by making a little dab at their eyes with their pocket-handkerchiefs.
The Princess remained at the piano, ready to accompany the other songs I had brought, which were of the same character, and I stood by her, trying to decide what I should sing next, when the Emperor came up and asked me for "Beware!" Charles accompanied that, and I sang it. The Empress asked me if I would sing some Spanish songs for her. I sang "Chiquita," which I learned with Garcia, and the "Habañero." She seemed very pleased, and made me many compliments. Then the Emperor begged me for some negro songs, and asked me if I knew "Massa's in the Cold, Cold Ground," or "Suwanee River," or "Nelly Bly," all of which he remembered having heard in America.
I sat down at the piano and commenced with "Suwanee River." I fortunately knew the words of that.
(Oh, Delsarte! what would you have said had you seen your pupil singing this claptrap music before your sovereigns and their most distinguished guests?)
Delsarte says that one can force the tears into one's eyes, one can make one's lips tremble, one can express the most harrowing emotions in one's voice, and not sing more than "do, re, mi, fa." I tried to profit by his teachings, and brought them to bear upon the pathetic words of "Oh, darkies, how my heart grows weary," and I could see that both their Majesties were deeply moved. I sang the word "weary" with such pathos that every one was more or less affected, and the phrase, "All the world is dark and dreary," I rendered in the most heart-broken tones.
I was sorry that I could not remember the words of "Massa's in the Cold, Cold Ground," as the Emperor wanted it; but I could not. I knew the music of "Nelly Bly," but had never known the words, so I tried to improvise some; but it was impossible for me to think of more than two words which rhymed with "Bly," and those were "sly" and "eye."
With shameful aplomb I sang these senseless words:
Nelly Bly wipes her eye,
On her little frock,
Nelly Bly, Nelly Bly,
Dick a dick a dock.
Happily the Emperor did not notice anything wrong, and was delighted to hear those old songs again, and thanked me repeatedly.
Once seated at the piano, I was not allowed to leave it until my répertoire of music of this character had been exhausted.