has more than once addressed me as ‘professor,’ although—­” “Why, that’s good,” exclaims the Emperor, with a great laugh, “very good indeed;” and striking his forehead in self-reproach with the palm of his hand:  “so forgetful of me!  Then you are not professor, after all!  Well, no matter; what is not, may be—­what I said, I said.  Adieu, Herr Professor” and goes off smiling.  The very same evening—­need it be added?—­Herr Fischer had his patent as Professor in his pocket.

The Emperor is particularly fond of “my Americans” among his operatic artists.  A good deal of jealousy has at times been shown by the German employees of the opera towards the American artists entertained there and a deputy has more than once protested in the Reichstag against the number employed; but the jealousy rarely results in harm, and on the whole harmony—­as it should—­prevails.

Every year brings hundreds of American girl students to Berlin, Munich, or Dresden to learn singing and perhaps carry off the great prize of a “star” engagement at one or the other of the German royal opera houses.  The experiences of some of these students are tragedies on a small scale, and in one or two instances have been known to end in death, destitution, or dishonour.  The explanation is simple.  Such students, filled with the high hopes inspired by artistic ambition and the artist’s imagination, fail to ask themselves before going abroad if nature has endowed them with the qualities and powers requisite for one of the most laborious and, for a girl, exposed professions in the world; and do not learn until it is too late that they lack the resolute character, the robust health, and the talent which, not singly but all three combined, are essential to success.

Such a girl often starts on her enterprise poorly supplied with means to pay for her board, lodging, clothes, recreation, and instruction; she changes from the dearer sort of pension to the cheaper, finding her company and surroundings at each remove more doubtful and more dangerous; she grows disappointed and disheartened, perhaps physically ill; comes under bad influences, male or female; until finally the curtain falls on a sufferer rescued at the last moment by relatives or friends, or on a young life blasted.  Such tragic cases, it should be said, are far from common, but they occur, and the possibility of their occurrence ought to be taken into account at the outset by the intending music or art student.

Happily there is another and brighter side to the picture, and the intending student with money and friends will enjoy and gain advantage from a few years of continental life, even though exceptional strength and genuine talent be wanting.  Perhaps this is the experience of the great majority of art students in Germany.  Freedom from the restraints and conventions of life at home compensates for the inconveniences arising from narrow means.  Novelty of scenery and surroundings has a charm that is constantly recurring.  The kindness and helpfulness of fellow-countrymen and countrywomen make the wheels of daily life roll smoothly.  The freemasonry of art, its optimism and hope, and the pleasure and interest of its practice, investigation, and discussion wing the hours and spur to effort.