to this country
when she was very young, and she grew up in the vicinity of Chicago. She
may therefore be adjudged at least as much an American singer as Olive
Fremstad. She studied in France, however, and this fortuitous
circumstance accounts for the fact that all her great roles are French,
and for the most part modern French. Her two Italian roles, Violetta and
Tosca, she sings in French, although I believe she has made attempts to
sing Puccini's opera in the original tongue. Her other ventures afield
have included Salome, sung in French, and Natoma, sung in English. Her
pronunciation of French on the stage has always aroused comment, some of
it jocular. Her accent is strongly American, a matter which her very
clear enunciation does not leave in doubt. However, it is a question in
my mind if Miss Garden did not weigh well the charm of this accent and
its probable effect on French auditors. You will remember that Helena
Modjeska spoke English with a decided accent, as do Fritzi Scheff, Alia
Nazimova, and Mitzi Hajos in our own day; you may also realize that to
the public, which includes yourself, this is no inconsiderable part of
their charm. Parisians do not take pleasure in hearing their language
spoken by a German, but they have never had any objection--quite the
contrary--to an English or American accent on their stage, although I do
not believe this general preference has ever been allowed to affect
performances at the Comedie Francaise, except when _l'Anglais tel qu'on
le parle_ is on the _affiches_. At least it is certain that Miss Garden
speaks French quite as easily as--perhaps more easily than--she does
English, and many of the eccentricities of her stage speech are not
noticeable in private life.

Many of the great artists of the theatre have owed their first
opportunity to an accident; it was so with Mary Garden. She once told me
the story herself and I may be allowed to repeat it in her own words, as
I put them down shortly after:

"I became friends with Sybil Sanderson, who was singing in Paris then,
and one day when I was at her house Albert Carre, the director of the
Opera-Comique, came to call. I was sitting by the window as he entered,
and he said to Sybil, 'That woman has a profile; she would make a
charming Louise.' Charpentier's opera, I should explain, had not yet
been produced. 'She has a voice, too,' Sybil added. Well, M. Carre took
me to the theatre and listened while I sang airs from _Travi