find lodgings later, we
tried not to be depressed by its gloominess.

Of course, the first thing we did was to visit the theatre. To reach it
one crossed a bridge over the river, picturesquely bordered with old
overhanging houses, then a cobblestone "Platz," and there, rather shabby
but still quite imposing, it stood. On the way I read my name for the
first time on a German poster, with a distinct thrill. I knew my way to
the stage-entrance, and through it to the Direktor's Bureau, where
several shocks awaited me. I learned that the man who had engaged me
had been superseded by a new one, who had not yet arrived. Matters were
in charge of the stage manager, a huge, towering creature, with a great
bass voice, who was a rather remarkable actor. He had come down in the
world, having begun life as a cavalry officer, and he had strange gleams
of the gentleman about him, even then. He was, by the way, the one man
in the profession who ever made me a questionable offer. He grew to
admire me very much as time went on, and one day, after I had been there
some time, he asked me to sign a further contract with the theatre.

"You'll never get anything very much better," he said, "as you are a
foreigner. We'll make a good contract with you, and perhaps, later--who
knows?--you may have a 'protection salary.'"

He paused to see the effect of his proposal, and was met with absolute
non-comprehension on my part, as I really did not understand, at the
time, the German words he was using. He dropped his proposal there and
then, and the affair had no unpleasant consequences for me, as he never
referred to it again. And that is the single instance of that sort which
I have encountered. Nevertheless, I might possibly have had further
trouble with him, for my appearance really seemed to appeal to him very
much, later in the winter. Just before Christmas, however, he died,
almost overnight, as we were in the midst of rushing a production of
"Trompeter von Saekkingen." He had informed me on Friday night that I
should have to sing the _Countess_ on the following Tuesday. I did not
know a word of it, and was on the way on Saturday morning to get the
score, when I heard that he was dangerously ill--and by Sunday morning
he was dead. Poor man! he had some good qualities and real talents, but
it turned out that he was a great scoundrel and had been robbing the
direction left and right, under the pretence of assisting the new
director.

This new