Palace, under the conductorship of Sir Walter Parratt. I sang with Madame Emma Nevada, the American prima donna, long absent from the stage, but now induced to come forth and sing the celebrated Bell Song from "Lakme," which she did charmingly. Madame Brema was superb that night in "Plus grand dans son Obscurité" from Gounod's "La Reine de Saba." Lucia the tenor also sang and, besides other numbers, I rendered one of the duets from "Don Giovanni" with Madame Albani.

De

This occasion was attended by a most gorgeous array of dignitaries - no other words describe it. All the diplomatic corps from every country in the world were present, every one in full regalia. The Prince of Wales held court in the place of his august mother; but amongst all the royalty, the Indian princes, the great nobles, and fair, coroneted ladies present, the one figure that stands out in my mind is that of Lord Kitchener, who, head and shoulders above almost any one in the room, was one of the most striking personalities in that incomparable assemblage.

I was in demand among royalty that year and was gratified, not to say flattered, to receive another note from Sir Walter Parratt reminding me of my singing before the Queen in Scotland, and adding that it was her Majesty's gracious pleasure to command me to sing again for her, this time at Osborne House in the Isle of Wight. There I had the pleasure of appearing again with Madame Marie Brema. Before returning to London, we were presented by the Duke of Connaught with mementos of the occasion and the thanks of his royal mother, who had already graciously complimented us upon our performance, which took place in the presence of Arthur Balfour and many distinguished statesmen 01 Great Britain and of Europe.

Lilli Lehmann was a member of the London company that season and again I sang with her frequently, while among the splendid array of women, one appearing in England for the first time was our American, Louise Homer, who has since risen to such heights. The ranks of the men were also materially strengthened by the engagement of the barytones, Maurice Renaud from Paris and Scheidemantel from Dresden, with whom I appeared in my old rôle of Beckmesser to his noble Hans Sachs. But of all the Sachses with whom I ever did sing, Edouard de Reszke was the best, more completely in nobility of voice and of personal appearance realizing the part, to which he brought a greater degree of bonhomie than any other of the numerous artists, even Van Rooy, with whom I have sung in "The Mastersingers."

All barytones owe a great deal to Victor Maurel, who was again with us that year in London and who had been in America so many times. I frequently heard him as Don Giovanni. I admired him enormously as Rigoletto and as Amonasro and in many of his other rôles, including his later masterpieces, Iago and Falstaff, and it is safe to say that for over a generation no barytone in Europe was his equal either as a singer or an actor.

The cast with which I enjoyed appearing more than any other was that which became so famous on both sides of the Atlantic. Indeed the public seemed to want us, and Mr. Grau, always with his ear to the ground with respect to what the public desired, put on Jean and Edouard de Reszke, Madame Nordica, Madame SchumannHeink, and myself upon many occasions. It so happened that it was this ensemble which, by royal command, sang at Windsor Castle on the evening of May 24, 1899, on the occasion of Queen Victoria's eightieth birthday, when her Majesty heard "Lohengrin" for the first time.

We were ushered about eleven o'clock into what is known as the Waterloo Chamber, hung with portraits of the great generals who overcame Napoleon. There, upon the temporary stage, always ready to be put together, we performed, under Mancinelli, the first and third acts of the well-known opera. The Queen was literally surrounded by royalty and every one of her immediate family was there. Half the crowned heads of Europe were present, and it was a splendid sight to see the most celebrated monarchs of the modern world under such circumstances.

The opera over, the Queen, always considerate, desired the artists to appear with her guests in the Green Drawing-Room, requesting us not to change our costumes as the hour was so late. Mesdames Nordica and Schumann-Heink, Mr. Muhlmann, and the brothers de Reszke came in their mediæval robes, Jean de Reszke in his silver armor, Edouard in the costume of the King, and looking every inch a king.

The first and third acts of "Lohengrin," it will be recalled, take place in the same stage setting, which was one reason why this opera and these portions of it had been chosen. I, as Telramund, am slain in the second act, to appear in the third only as a dead body borne in upon a bier. Having ample time to do so, I changed into my evening suit, leaving my make-up on, since only my face is shown above the pall. It happened that the bearers were two tall Germans and two short Italians, these latter being on the side toward the audience. As a result the bier slanted so that I had to hang on to it with one hand to keep from being rolled off on the stage in my swallow-tail, clutching the pall firmly with the other lest it slip off and disclose my incarnate anachronism, both dead hands busy.

The great Queen, a little woman eighty years of age, was, after all, the Personage of that distinguished assembly, and no one who has ever seen her under circumstances of state but realized that she was the mistress of all she surveyed.

Her Majesty spoke kind words to us, and we in turn felicitated her upon her birthday, of which she was to have so few returns. Many of those present that evening have suffered defeat, banishment, ruin, death; but the royal family of England still retains the respect of the world.

As we passed from the drawing-room the Prince of Wales led us into the famous Holbein Room, and there, surrounded by the portraits painted by that old master, the Prince took from a large table the gifts placed there by his royal mother's direction, and with many pleasant words handed them to his son, now King George V, who presented them to each of us. I do not know what the others received, but when I had a chance to open the green leather case embossed with the royal arms I found inside a gold cigarette case and match box, mementos of an evening that will never pass from my memory.

I had cheerful reflections, upon this momentary association with resplendent royalty, of the little red-headed Quaker lad who had become the singing representative at that moment of a family that had left England generations before eschewing music and protesting against the pomp and vanity of the world.

CHAPTER XXXI

A BAFFLED IDEAL

Who shoots at the midday sun, though he be sure he shall never hit the mark, yet as sure he is he shall shoot higher than he who aims at a bush. Sir Philip Sidney.

AFTER having been in the presence of the greatest monarch of modern times I now found myself the guest of one of the richest and most notable men in the world, the great ironmaster, Andrew Carnegie, at Skibo Castle in Scotland, golfing, fishing, and shooting deer with him, and moreover with a chance to discuss a matter near my heart: the foundation of what I called the Classic Theatre. It was to do for the drama in the United States all that the Metropolitan Opera Company does for music. Now that I was here, filled with my fine project, it seemed a happy conjunction of the time, the place, and the man.

Often as I had sung in public in Scotia, this was my first visit to the private house of any Scot. Though the new castle was built soon afterward, this admirable example of a Highland country home still stands out vividly in memory. Warm was the hospitality of the Master of Skibo! As I dressed for dinner the first evening, I heard resounding through the house the strains of an approaching bagpipe while the guests were assembling in the drawing room, and presently, playing down the hall, a magnificent piper in full Highland costume came to the door. Thence he led the way, Mr. Carnegie just behind, to the dining room, walking around the table