ed to stop there and
go to the opera that night. The opera begins in Dresden at seven
o'clock and closes at ten. The best seats are absurdly cheap, and
whole families, whole schools, whole communities, I should say, were
there together. I never saw so many children at an opera in my life.
Coming straight from Paris, from the theatrical, vivacious,
enthusiastic French audiences, with their abominable _claqueurs_, this
first German audience seemed serious, thoughtful, appreciative, but
unenthusiastic. They use more judgment about applause than the French.
They never interrupt a scene or even a musical phrase with misplaced
applause because the soprano has executed a flamboyant cadenza or the
tenor has reached a higher note than usual. Their appreciation is slow
but hearty and always worthily disposed. The French are given to
exaggerating an emotion and to applauding an eccentricity. Even their
subtlety is overdone.

The German drama is much cleaner than the French, the family tie is
made more of, sentiment is encouraged instead of being ridiculed, as
it too often is in America; but the German point of view of Americans
is quite as much distorted as the French. That statement is severe,
but true. For instance, it would be utterly impossible for the
American girl to be more exquisitely misunderstood than by French and
German men.

Berlin is so full of electric cars that it seemed much more familiar
at first sight than Paris. It is a lovely city, although we ought to
have seen it before Paris in order fully to appreciate it. Its
Brandenburg Gate is most impressive, and I wanted to make some
demonstration every time we drove under it and realized that the
statue above it has been returned. Their statue of Victory in the
Thiergarten is so hideous, however, that I was reminded of General
Sherman's remark when he saw the Pension Office in Washington, "And
they tell me the ---- thing is fireproof!"

The streets are filled with beautiful things, mostly German officers.
The only trouble is that they themselves seem to know it only too
well, and as they will not give us any of the sidewalk, we are obliged
to admire them from the gutters. The only way you can keep Germans
from knocking you into the middle of the street is to walk sideways
and pretend you are examining the shop windows.

In the eyes of men, women are of little account in England compared to
the way we are treated in America; of less in France; and of still
less