Those well-wishers who had been freely predicting that I would soon be requested to resign and "go over the border" because of the rumors regarding the Crown Prince (one newspaper even a.s.serted that he wished to relinquish his right to the succession to the throne in order to marry the American singer!) were soon thrown into consternation when one of the royal carriages stopped in front of my door, to bring official notification from the Kaiser that he had ordered restored to my mother the privilege of accompanying me at any time behind the scenes at the Royal Opera.

The envious tongues stopped wagging. Official Berlin society took its cue. It was understood that I was _not_ to leave Germany.

I determined that since Berlin had been the city first to take me to its heart, Berlin should be my parent house. From there I might try to reach out for other worlds to conquer, but Berlin should be my base for an international career. And so firmly did I adhere to this decision that, when my first contract with the Royal Opera expired, I renewed it again and again, with special permission from His Majesty for my European and subsequent American arrangements.

CHAPTER IX

ON TOUR: MONTE CARLO AND STOCKHOLM

In discussing the plans for my third season at the Berlin Opera, it had been decided that I should create Ma.s.senet's "Manon." I determined to meet Ma.s.senet, if possible, in order to get all possible suggestions for the role. This was accomplished through the Baroness de Hegermann-Lindencrone, formerly Lillie Greenough, of Boston, who was the wife of the Danish Amba.s.sador to Berlin. I went to Paris, and on May 26, 1903, I called on the composer at his suburban home near the French capital, where I found him in tears. It was the day after the funeral of Sybil Sanderson, the American singer who had won such success abroad, and Ma.s.senet wept at the loss of such a delightful artist and friend, who had created so many of his roles. Several days later, when he was more composed, I saw him again. He was kind and sympathetic, and I studied with him with enthusiasm. He was most interested in the Berlin production, and quite amused at the German translation of the French text which Lilli and I had revised.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I STUDIED WITH HIM WITH ENTHUSIASM"

PHOTO OF Ma.s.sENET, signed:

Je pense a l'admirable Geraldine Farrar

a ses triomphes,

"Manon"!..

Ma.s.senet]

During this visit to Paris it was arranged that I should sing for Gailhard, the Director of the Paris Opera, and at this audience were three other notable directors who were destined to figure in my career.

There was Maurice Grau, already relinquishing the reins of management in New York, but still hoping, he said, to take me back to America as an operatic star in the near future; there was Heinrich Conried, his successor, whom I then met for the first time; and there was Raoul Gunsberg, the Director of the Opera at Monte Carlo. Gailhard offered me a flattering engagement at the Paris Opera, but I explained that I was under contract for at least one more year in Berlin. Gunsberg was very enthusiastic in his praise; Conried was quiet and formal. If I made any impression on him, he gave no indication of it.

My third season in Berlin opened November 14, 1905, in "Traviata," when I had my usual charming partner in Franz Naval. I now sang all of my roles in German save "Traviata," and, in deference to me, all the company sang "Traviata" in Italian, which I thought a pretty compliment.

The Berlin _premiere_ of "Manon" took place on December 1, 1903, and was a wild riot of enthusiasm, but my best reward was a large photo of Lilli with half a yard of dedication written underneath. By this time--the middle of my third season in Berlin--I had become quite well known in certain operatic circles; I had sung in Paris for four big directors; I had won the real affection and regard of the opera-goers of Berlin; I was now _Die Farrar aus Berlin_, and the Berlin public owned me.

Herr Gunsberg, at Monte Carlo, always on the lookout for novelty, decided he must have the American prima donna who was attracting so much attention in Berlin. One morning in midwinter I received this characteristic telegram from him:--

Offer you debut Boheme or Pagliacci. If you accept this telegram serves as contract. Four thousand francs a night.

Eight hundred dollars a night! It was indeed a fine offer. I replied at once:--

Boheme. When shall I come?

I had visions already of international triumphs. Monte Carlo, the show-place of the world! From there it was only a step to the leading capitals of Europe. Yet I had no wish to leave my beloved Berlin permanently. Therefore, in renewing my contract with the Intendant of the Berlin Opera (a contract, by the way, which is still in force), it was stipulated that I was to sing so many performances each season in Berlin unless excused by special arrangement; that I should have leave of absence whenever requested under certain conditions; but that at all times I should be subject to the rules and regulations of the Royal Opera in Berlin.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SIGNED PHOTO OF GUGLIELMO MARCONI

Alla Signorina Geraldina Farrar

Con devota amicizia e sincera ammirazione

Guglielmo Marconi

6 maggio 1912]

I remember discussing the subject with His Majesty on one occasion when we were entertained at the Palace prior to my departure. I had asked (and received) permission for rather an unusual amount of leave of absence, and the Intendant, who usually conveyed such a request to His Majesty on my behalf, said this time he really did not have the courage to ask again so soon.

"Very well," said I laughingly, "I will ask him myself, to spare you the embarra.s.sment."

"But why should you wish to leave Berlin?" inquired the Kaiser. "We are glad to have you with us; we admire you; we love you. What more can you gain elsewhere?"

"Pardon me, Your Majesty," I replied gayly. "Already I have become accustomed as a spoiled prima donna of luxurious habits to ride in automobiles, and I don't wish to have to walk when I am an old lady and when this" (touching my throat significantly) "has ceased to interest the public. In the words of the great Napoleon, Your Majesty, 'Beyond the Alps lies Italy.' Yes, and there is a white chateau by the sea where the golden shower is just waiting to be coaxed into my pockets. May I not then go and sing a little among the palms and the flowers?"

I went.

Ah, that first rehearsal of "Boheme" in Monte Carlo, in March, 1904! I was introduced for the first time to a tenor of whom I had never heard before. He was somewhat stout, not over-tall, but with a wonderful voice and a winning smile. His name was Enrico Caruso. It was his debut in Monte Carlo. He had sung in Milan, in South America, and the preceding winter in New York. But he had not then attained even a small part of his present great fame.

At this first rehearsal in Monte Carlo an interested listener was Jean de Reszke, who was kind enough to say that he remembered me as the little Boston girl who had sung for him some years previously, and that he was delighted to see that I was meeting with the success he had predicted.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ENRICO CARUSO]

My Monte Carlo debut occurred on the night of March 10, 1904. Although I had rehea.r.s.ed with Caruso, the tenor had never used his voice fully at the rehearsals, and on the night of the actual performance, when I heard those rich and glorious tones rise above the orchestra, I was literally stricken dumb with amazement and admiration. I forgot that I, too, was making a debut, that I was on the stage of the Opera House, until the conductor, Vigna, rapped sharply with his baton to bring me back to my senses. Then I put forth every ounce of strength to match if possible that marvelous voice singing opposite to me. I copy the following extract _verbatim_ from my diary of that night:--

Tremendous reception on my debut. After the third act, and in full view of the audience, Caruso lifted me bodily and carried me to my dressing-room in the general wave of enthusiasm.

The Monte Carlo engagement was limited, and on March 28, I reappeared in Berlin, being received so cordially that I then and there made up my mind that I would never leave Berlin for good. The reports of the Monte Carlo engagement led directly to a most flattering offer from Stockholm, and on May 6 I arrived in the Swedish capital. My mother, of course, was with me on all my travels.

My debut, which took place on the evening of May 9, was as Marguerite in "Faust." It was an enthusiastic, sympathetic audience headed by the venerable and adorable King Oscar. An incident of the performance worth recording is that I sang opposite to Herr odman, the tenor, who had sung as a young man with Jenny Lind and Christine Nilsson. He was then almost sixty years old, but he gave a most interesting performance and was extremely vain of his figure in "Romeo" and "Faust." I must say he would put many a younger man to shame in the costume of this romantic period, withal being a sweet singer and excellent artist.

Two days after my debut the Royal Intendant of the Opera called to notify me that the King would be glad to receive me at a special audience. The royal carriage was sent to the hotel for us; my mother and I drove first to the Palace in Stockholm, and then, after we had been cordially received by His Majesty, the King invited us to go with him and inspect a beautiful suburban castle just outside of Stockholm, which is one of the show-places of the world. His Majesty had known and admired Lilli Lehmann, and one reason for the personal interest he took in me was because he knew I was Lilli's pupil.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THE VENERABLE AND ADORABLE KING OSCAR"

PHOTO SIGNED, OSCAR.]

On the last night of the Stockholm season I sang "Traviata" before a packed and enthusiastic house. His Majesty was present as usual. He never missed a performance while I sang in Stockholm. During the performance the Intendant notified me that His Majesty desired to receive me at the Palace after the performance at a special audience.

Wondering and surprised, my mother and I drove to the Palace in obedience to the royal command. We were ushered into a small audience chamber, where perhaps two dozen members of the Court were already in waiting.

Presently His Majesty entered and, with a few words, decorated me with the gold cross of the Order of Merit, which he personally pinned upon my gown. He explained at the time that only two other singers had previously received this honor--Melba and Nilsson.

After that there was a real Swedish celebration of farewell which lasted until long past midnight--only, as the nights were almost as bright as day in that far northern country, it was difficult to tell the time. I remember that after supper I suddenly recalled that Caruso had written, asking me to secure him a complete set of Swedish stamps, as he was a postage-stamp fiend. When I told His Majesty of this, the King sent out and secured a complete set of stamps, which I forwarded to Enrico with the compliments of the King of Sweden.

As I was leaving and saying farewell, for we were to go on the morrow, His Majesty said: "Next year, Mademoiselle Farrar, you must sing again in Stockholm."

"I shall be delighted, Your Majesty," I replied.

"Meanwhile, you sing only in Berlin?"