During these three months of intensive study I received so much from him that was new to me, such a wealth of ideas regarding interpretation and the technic of the conductor’s art, that it took me years to digest it properly and to learn how, instead of merely copying slavishly, I could make it my own and accept or reject parts of it, according to the methods of analysis taught me by him. During our stay in Frankfort a little Prince of Hesse, whose mother, the Landgravine, was a “Royal Highness,” being a niece of the old Emperor William, invited von Bülow to give a Brahms recital at his palace. Bülow immediately insisted that I, too, must be invited, which accordingly I was. When I accompanied him he introduced me to the various exalted personages assembled, and the Landgravine asked me if I were not “the son of the great Doctor Damrosch.” I politely answered: “Yes, your Royal Highness.” “Was he not a friend of Rubinstein?” she continued. “Yes.” “He played the viola, did he not?” I said: “No, your Royal Highness, the violin.” “No,” she said, “the viola.” This taught me that royalty must never be contradicted, even if they know “facts” about your own father of which you are not aware. The Prince of Hesse was blind and thought he had a gift for music, in fact he “composed” string quartets which, I presume, he more or less “dictated” to the court musician of his little princely household. Just before the supper the Prince came up to Bülow with a huge laurel wreath, which enraged Bülow very much. He always called them “vegetables of Fame,” and he immediately shouted: “Is there no bust of Brahms here?” but as there was none, he laid the wreath on the piano. During the very good supper which was served to their Royal Highnesses and von Bülow in one room and to the other guests in another, I found to my amazement that the blind Prince was led to my chair holding a champagne glass in his hand with which to toast me specially, “the American musician and conductor,” and two days later the Prince and his gentleman in waiting formally called on me at my hotel. An hour later the gentleman in waiting returned to inform me that the Prince would like to have me accept the position of musician in his household with “twelve hundred Thalers a year and free board at the palace.” I had to explain to him ever so politely and gratefully that I was then conductor at the Metropolitan Opera House, the New York Symphony Society, and the New York Oratorio Society, and that with high appreciation of this offer, I could not possibly give up these positions and my American career to come to Germany. Bülow, when I told him of it, burst into loud guffaws of delighted laughter.