Cecilia dear:—
There is the smell of spring in the air to-day. As I 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.
That reminds me of a secret I have to tell you. What do you think? In April comes the spring vacation at the Conservatory, and Mütterchen 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 several weeks in order to complete Fräulein's already elaborate trousseau. My own opinion 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 Waldfel nor the Fräulein have come to the table, but have had all their meals served in their rooms. Of course we do not see the lieutenant now, for which I am duly grateful, but I do miss the Fräulein and our pleasant chats together.
The days and lessons have been going on just as usual save for the interruptions afforded by the celebration of the Prince Regent'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 directions we made our way up a flight of narrow 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 congregation. 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 excellently, and I shall never forget the brilliancy of the scene. I could not help but contrast the sight before me with that which I had beheld within these same walls last Christmas Eve. Now the church was filled with a throng of men in dazzling uniforms—here a company of privates with white-plumed helmets, there a group of officers in the Bavarian blue and scarlet, in the farther corner a coterie of generals in cream-colored broadcloth, countless orders gleaming 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 company 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 windows made the gleaming swords, the shining helmets and the gold-fringed epaulets a thousand times more brilliant. At the close of the service the band suddenly struck up the Hallelujah chorus from the "Messiah." I cannot tell you how impressive it was to hear these familiar strains amid such strange surroundings. 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 Weingartner 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. Weingartner's conducting of Beethoven without score is far more inspiring than any other directing I have ever seen, just as the words of an extemporaneous speaker are more forceful than one who confines himself to notes.
I was sorry that I could not go to the première of Thuille's Lobetanz, but I attended the second presentation and enjoyed 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 Ludwig Thuille. At first, therefore, I was slightly disappointed, but the whole thing is so charming that I soon forgot my annoyance 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 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."