Part 23

[46] “The picture of this first professional trip stands vividly before my eyes. The weather was glorious!... We were young, full of spirit and hope, and the country enchanting. The joy was so great that I sang. We made plans for future work, we rode in the clouds, building Spanish castles.”--_Memories and Impressions of Helena Modjeska._

[47] Marylka; she lived but two years.

[48] The capital of Galitzia.

[49] One of the circle of friends in the aristocratic and literary world which Modjeska now began to acquire was the Countess Patocka. On the occasion of Modjeska’s first visit to her, “her judgment was just and most kind. She said she thought I was unsuited to certain parts, but she was much pleased with my romantic impersonations and also with some of the characters in high comedy. She had seen Rachel and Ristori, and told me I had neither their strong ringing voice nor their tragic statuesque poses. ‘You see,’ said she, ‘they were born with those gifts, and God created you differently. You have, instead of those grand qualities, sensitiveness, intuition, grace’; and then she added, laughingly, ‘You are as clever as a snake. You played the other evening the Countess in _The White Camelia_ as if you were born among us. Where did you meet countesses?’ I answered that she was the only great lady I had ever laid eyes on. ‘You see,’ said she, ‘that was intuition.’”--_Memories and Impressions._

[50] Some of her characters at this time were Princess Eboli in _Don Carlos_, by Schiller; Louise Miller in _Kabale und Liebe_, by Schiller; Barbara in the tragedy of that name by Felinski; Ophelia in _Hamlet_; Doña Sol in _Ernani_, by Victor Hugo; the wife in _Nos Intimes_, by Sardou; and Adrienne Lecouvreur in the play of that name by Scribe and Legouvé.

[51] “I do not recollect going to parties, save to those given twice a year by the manager, Count Skorupka; one dancing party during the Carnival and another at Easter time, and then I danced! Oh, how I danced! with all my soul in it, for I never did anything by halves. Still I preferred the few receptions at my brother’s house.”--_Memories and Impressions._

[52] Gustave Modrzejewski had died some time before.

[53] Ten thousand dollars.

[54] Over two thousand dollars.

[55] On one occasion Modjeska acted as an impromptu reporter for her husband’s paper, proving the reliability of her stage-trained memory. Liebelt, the scientist, delivered a lecture on Spectrum Analysis, and as no stenographic reporter was to be had, Modjeska went to the hall, listened intently to the lecturer and although the subject was absolutely new to her, went home and wrote a complete résumé of the lecture, technical and Latin words included. Her report was printed, while that of a reporter was used merely as an introduction.

[56] “Mrs. Helena.”

[57] Her repertoire at Warsaw had been wide-ranged and long, embracing translations of Shakespeare, and of many French and German plays as well as the numerous Polish parts. She introduced the obvious but hitherto neglected method of playing Shakespeare in a Polish translation directly from the English, instead of through a French version.

[58] In 1877 Edwin Booth had, rightly enough, declined to play with Modjeska. In 1889, however, it was another story. Lawrence Barrett, at that time Booth’s manager, proposed her appearance as a “co-star.” Modjeska gladly availed herself of the opportunity to act with Mr. Booth, and played with him in _Hamlet_, _Macbeth_, _The Merchant of Venice_, _Much Ado about Nothing_, and _Richelieu_. The tour took them throughout the East and the Middle West.

[59] The entire party would leave their farm and go on short vacation trips. Of one of these, Modjeska says: “I listened and looked at everything, but I grew quite sad when I turned my eyes toward the ocean. The blue waters of the great Pacific reminded me of our first sea-voyage when we left our country. The recollections of the happy past, spent among beloved people,--Cracow, with its churches and monuments, the kind friends waiting for our return, the stage, and the dear public I left behind,--all came back to my mind, and I felt a great acute pang of homesickness. I stepped away from the rest, threw myself on the sand and sobbed and sobbed, mingling my moans with those of the ocean, until, exhausted, I had not one drop of tears left in my eyes. A sort of torpor took the place of despair, and the world became a vast emptiness, sad and without any charm.”

[60] Of the Imperial Theatre in Warsaw.

[61] He became an American citizen and dropped his title of nobility. Because of the difficulty in pronouncing Chlapowski, he was known in America by his second name, and was called Mr. Bozenta.

[62] “Hill was a worthy man and a good actor ... but there will always be something ludicrous in the thought of Barton Hill sitting in judgment on Helena Modjeska. ‘He was very kind--Meester Hill,’ said the actress; ‘but he was ne-ervous and fussy, and he patronized me as though I were a leetle child. “Now,” he said, “I shall be very critical--ve-ery _severe_.” I could be patient no longer: “Be as critical and severe as you like,” I burst out, “only do, please, _be quiet_, and let us begin!” He was so surprised he could not speak, and I began at once a scene from _Adrienne_. I played it through and then turned to him. He had his handkerchief in his hand and was crying. He came and shook hands with me and tried to seem quite calm. “Well,” I asked, “may I have the evening that I want?” “I’ll give you a week, and more, if I can,” he answered.’”--William Winter, _The Wallet of Time_.

[63] It was John McCullough who at this time suggested the modification of her name. Her professional name in Poland had always remained Modrzejewska. When confronted with this, McCullough said: “Who on earth could read that, I wonder? I fear you will be compelled to change your name, Madame.” She suggested Modgeska, which he smilingly said would remind people of Madagascar. The “g” was changed to “j.” “Now,” McCullough said, “it is quite easy to read, and sounds pretty, I think.”

[64] Her first appearance in New York was in _Adrienne Lecouvreur_. The other plays of that season and the one following were _Romeo and Juliet_; _Camille_; _Frou-Frou_; _Peg Woffington_ (in which she failed); and _East Lynne_ (which she heartily disliked).

_Adrienne Lecouvreur_, _Romeo and Juliet_ and _Camille_ were for many years retained in her repertoire. Her appearances in other plays were as follows: _Heartsease_ (adaptation of _Camille_), London, 1880; _Marie Stuart_, London, 1880; _Juana_, (a failure, by W. G. Wills), London, 1881; _A Doll’s House_, Warsaw, 1882; _Odette_, London, 1882; _As You Like It_ and _Twelfth Night_, New York, 1882; _Nadjezda_ (by Maurice Barrymore), 1884; _Two Gentlemen of Verona_, _Cymbeline_, and _Prince Zillah_, season of 1885–6; _Les Chouans_, _Measure for Measure_, _Dona Diana_, and _Daniela_, 1886; with Edwin Booth, _Hamlet_, _Much Ado about Nothing_, _Macbeth_, _Merchant of Venice_, and _Richelieu_, 1889; _Countess Roudine_ (by Paul Kester and Minnie Maddern Fiske), and _Henry VIII_, 1892; _The Tragic Mask_, 1893; _Magda_, 1894; _Mistress Betty Singleton_ (by Clyde Fitch), 1895; _Antony and Cleopatra_, 1898; _The Ladies’ Battle_, 1900; _Marie Antoinette_ (by Clinton Stuart) and _King John_, 1900. In a letter furnishing some of the above dates, Modjeska’s husband, who died in Cracow, in March, 1914, wrote from Rzegocin, Posen, July 10, 1913:

“_The Tragic Mask_ was written by Mr. E. Reynolds. It was an original play, somewhat deficient in construction; but the dialogue was very clever. _Daniela_ was a translation from a German play by Phillippi. The translators were Hamilton Bell and Moritz von Sachs. As to _Les Chouans_: This was an adaptation of Balzac’s novel of the same title, made in French by the well-known actor and dramatist, Pierre Berton, and translated by Paul Potter.

“In addition to the abovesaid repertoire it must be mentioned that Madame Modjeska played _A Doll’s House_ not only in Poland, but also in America, in Louisville, in the season of 1883–1884. This was, to my knowledge, the first production of Ibsen on an English-speaking stage. Though the part of Nora was considered in Poland, I think rightly, one of Modjeska’s best ones, _A Doll’s House_ did not appeal then to the American public. According to local critics, and especially to Henry Watterson, the audiences were not yet ripe for Ibsen.

“Besides the plays you enumerated, Mme. Modjeska appeared yet in a few others on special occasions. Thus, in the spring of 1884, in Cincinnati at a dramatic festival, she played Desdemona to Tom Keene’s Othello. In 1905 in Los Angeles, she took part in a charitable performance and played Hermione in _The Winter’s Tale_, and in the summer of 1907 appeared equally for charity in a little French comedy entitled _The Spark_. To be complete, I must yet mention a short proverb by Hamilton Aide, produced in London in a reception for the Prince of Wales in 1883, the name of which has escaped my memory.

“But Mme. Modjeska did not play only in English in America. She gave two consecutive performances in Chicago in Polish for charitable purposes, supported by a company of amateur workingmen. One was a comic part in a popular peasant comedy, the other a tragic queen in a historical drama. Twice also she played in French: once in 1884 in London in a graceful proverb of Augier entitled _The Post-scriptum_; she was supported by the above-named Pierre Berton. The second time she acted in French in Los Angeles in 1907 for the ‘French Alliance’ in that beautiful one-act drama _Le Pater_. As I mentioned her several charity performances, I may be allowed to remark that Mme. Modjeska rarely omitted an occasion to appear for charitable objects. In January, 1909, about ten weeks before her end, already then very weak and ill, she took part in a great benefit performance for the victims of the Messina earthquake, in Los Angeles, giving the sleepwalking scene of _Macbeth_.

“I will add that outside of the twelve Shakespearean plays mentioned by you, and the two named above by me, Madame Modjeska acted in Poland in two more--_Richard III_ and _The Taming of the Shrew_. Her repertoire on the Polish stage known to me consisted of more than one hundred and ten parts.”

[65] William Winter in the New York _Tribune_.

[66] _Memories and Impressions._

[67] The others being Clara Morris, Georgia Cayvan, and Julia Marlowe.

[68] This prohibition did not apply to Austrian or Prussian Poland, of course, and she afterwards acted more than once in Cracow, Lemberg, and Posen.

[69] “During her long professional career, though Modjeska was ‘presented’ by various managers, her personal representative was her husband, Bozenta,--one of the kindest, most intellectual, and most drolly eccentric men it has been my fortune to know. Neither he nor his wife was judicious in worldly matters, while--as is not unusual in such cases--both thought themselves exceptionally shrewd and capable. Their professional labors were abundantly remunerative, but, being improvident and generous, they did not accumulate wealth. The close of Modjeska’s life, contrasted with the brilliancy of her career, was pathetic and forlorn. I called on her, a few months before her death, in the refuge, a little cottage, she had found, at East Newport. The great actress greeted me with gentle kindness and presently, as though my coming had reminded her of other days and scenes, she looked about the small narrow room in which we were. ‘Ah, it ees small,’ she said, ‘very small, this place of ours. But, what of that? It ees large enough for two old people to sit in--and _wait_.’ As I came away her lovely eyes were suffused with tears. She looked at me long and fixedly. ‘Good-by, my good friend,’ was all she said. She seemed to foresee that it was our last parting.”--(William Winter, _The Wallet of Time_.) It is not to be thought from this that Modjeska died poor. Of the vast sum (said to be $800,000) that she earned on the American stage, she left at her death something over $100,000, in California real estate, stocks and bonds, and jewelry. It is true, however, that she was lavishly generous, and that her bounty was bestowed in many places, private and public. She was the founder of an industrial school for girls in Cracow, for which she gave $100,000.

[70] A reference to Sembrich and Paderewski.

[71] April 8, 1909, on Bay Island, East Newport, California, whither she had moved from “Arden” but a few months before. Her final appearance on the stage was in the spring of 1907.

[72] These brothers and sisters were all actors or actresses except Charles, who was a stage manager, and the father of the actresses Minnie and Beatrice Terry. Mr. Scott does not mention another brother--George--who was identified with the business side of the theatre. Fred Terry married the actress Julia Neilson, and their daughter, Phyllis Neilson-Terry, is today among the most promising young women on England’s stage. There were two other brothers, Ben and Thomas, and three children died--twelve in all.

[73] No. 5 Market Street makes out the best case.

[74] Her own memory is perhaps not an infallible guide, but in a characteristic letter (September 26, 1887) to Clement Scott she was emphatic enough: “Mr. Dutton Cook’s statement was inaccurate, that’s all! I didn’t contradict it, although asked to do so by my father at the time, for I thought it of little, if of any interest. The very first time I ever appeared on any stage was on the first night of _The Winter’s Tale_, at the Princess’s Theatre, with dear Charles Kean. As for the young princes,--them unfortunate little men, I never played--not neither of them--there. What a cry about a little wool! It’s flattering to be fussed about, but ‘Fax is Fax!’”

[75] Another childish blunder marks Miss Terry’s only meeting with the great actor Macready. She accidentally jostled him while running to her dressing-room. He smiled at her apology, and said: “Never mind, you are a very polite little girl, and you act very earnestly and speak very nicely.”

[76] Miss Terry relates the rise and fall of her childish vanity at this time: “The parts we play influence our characters to some extent, and Puck made me a bit of a romp. I grew vain and rather ‘cocky,’ and it was just as well that during the rehearsals for the Christmas pantomime in 1857, I was tried for the part of the fairy Dragonetta and rejected. [The children’s parts at the Princess’s were assigned after competitive trials. For Mamillius “Nelly” had been chosen out of half a dozen aspirants.] I believe that my failure was principally due to the fact that I hadn’t flashing eyes and raven hair--without which, as every one knows, no bad fairy can hold up her head and respect herself.... Only the extreme beauty of my dress as the maudlin ‘good fairy’ Golden-star, consoled me. I used to think I looked beautiful in it. I wore a trembling star in my forehead, too, which was enough to upset any girl.” A little later: “I think my part in _Pizarro_ saw the last of my vanity. I was a worshiper of the sun and, in a pink feather, pink swathings of muslin, and black arms, I was again struck by my own beauty. I grew quite attached to the looking glass which reflected that feather! Then suddenly there came a change. _I began to see the whole thing._ My attentive watching of other people began to bear fruit, and the labor and perseverance, care and intelligence, which had gone to make these enormous productions dawned on my young mind. Up to this time I had loved acting because it was great fun, but I had not loved the grind. After I began to rehearse Prince Arthur in _King John_, I understood that if I did not work I could not act! And I wanted to work. I used to get up in the middle of the night and watch my gestures in the glass. I used to try my voice and bring it up and down in the right places. And all my vanity fell away from me.”

[77] “It was a chicken! Now, as all the chickens had names--Sultan, Sultan, Duke, Lord Tom Noddy, Lady Teazle, and so forth--and as I was very proud of them as living birds, it was a great wrench to kill one at all, to start with. It was the murder of Sultan, not the killing of a chicken. However, at last it was done, and Sultan deprived of his feathers, floured, and trussed. I had no idea _how_ this was all done, but I tried to make him ‘sit up’ nicely like the chickens in the shops.

“He came up to the table looking magnificent--almost turkey-like in his proportions.

“‘Hasn’t this chicken rather an odd smell?’ said our visitor.

“‘How can you!’ I answered. ‘It must be quite fresh--it’s Sultan!’

“However, when we began to carve, the smell grew more and more potent.

“_I had cooked Sultan without taking out his in’ards!_

“There was no dinner that day except bread-sauce, beautifully made, well-cooked vegetables, and pastry like the foam of the sea. I had a wonderful hand for pastry.”

[78] Of her first night as Portia the _London Daily News_ said: “This is indeed the Portia that Shakespeare drew. The bold innocence, the lively wit and quick intelligence, the grace and elegance of manner, and all the youth and freshness of this exquisite creation can rarely have been depicted in such harmonious combination. Nor is this delightful actress less successful in indicating the tenderness and depth of passion which lie under that frolicsome exterior. Miss Terry’s figure, at once graceful and commanding, and her singularly sweet and expressive countenance, doubtless aid her much; but this performance is essentially artistic, ... in the style of art which cannot be taught.”

[79] Clement Scott.

[80] Ellen Terry dismisses Ibsen’s women as “silly ladies,” “drawn in straight lines,” and easy to play; a characteristic, if radically unjustified view.

[81] “She has always been an indefatigable and charming letter-writer, one of the greatest letter writers that ever lived,” says Mr. Shaw, the happy recipient of many of her letters.

[82] On one of her last American tours Miss Terry attended in New York the first night of a young playwright’s new work, and at the end of the third act he was presented to her. She congratulated him warmly: “It is very good,” she said, “your play is very good indeed, and I shall send all my American friends to see it.”

“In that case,” said the playwright, with a very low and courtly bow, “my little piece will sell ninety million tickets.”

[83] The dates of her most important impersonations since joining Henry Irving: Ophelia in _Hamlet_, 1878; Pauline in _The Lady of Lyons_; Ruth Meadows in _The Fate of Eugene Aram_, Queen Henrietta Maria in _Charles I_, Portia in _The Merchant of Venice_, 1879; Iolanthe in _King René’s Daughter_, Beatrice in _Much Ado about Nothing_, 1880; Camma in _The Cup_, Letitia Hardy in _The Belle’s Stratagem_, Desdemona in _Othello_, 1881; Juliet in _Romeo and Juliet_, Beatrice at the Lyceum (her previous appearance had been at Leeds), 1882; Viola in _Twelfth Night_, 1884; Olivia in _Olivia_ (revival), Margaret in _Faust_, 1885; Ellaline in _The Amber Heart_, 1887; Lady Macbeth, in _Macbeth_, 1888; Catherine Duval in _The Dead Heart_, 1889; Lucy Ashton in _Ravenswood_, 1890; Queen Katherine in _Henry VIII_, Cordelia in _King Lear_, 1892; Rosamund in _Becket_, Nance Oldfield in _Nance Oldfield_, 1893; Queen Guinevere in _King Arthur_, 1895; Imogen in _Cymbeline_, 1896; Madame Sans-Gêne in the play of that name, 1897; Clarisse in _Robespierre_, 1899; Volumnia in _Coriolanus_, 1901; she acted under Irving’s management for the last time in 1902, playing Portia at his final performance at the Lyceum; Mistress Page in _The Merry Wives of Windsor_, 1903; _Alice-Sit-By-The-Fire_, 1905; Lady Cecily Waynflete in _Captain Brassbound’s Conversion_, Hermione in _The Winter’s Tale_, 1906. On April 28, 1906, the fiftieth anniversary of her first appearance, she played Francisca in _Measure for Measure_ (once only) at the Adelphi.

[84] Mr. Shaw’s article on Ellen Terry appeared, in German, in the _Neue Freie Presse_ of Vienna. And there are several striking passages concerning her in the _Dramatic Opinions and Essays_.

[85] Yet, characteristically, she was better satisfied than some of her admirers: “I have sometimes wondered,” she wrote, “what I should have accomplished without Henry Irving. I might have had ‘bigger’ parts but it doesn’t follow that they would have been better ones, and if they had been written by contemporary dramatists my success would have been less durable. ‘No actor or actress who doesn’t play in the classics--in Shakespeare or old comedy--will be heard of long,’ was one of Henry Irving’s statements, and he was right.”

[86] Ellen Terry never played _The Man of Destiny_. Irving accepted it and shelved it.

[87] The first to appear was an elderly woman who long before noon on Monday placed herself and her campstool outside the entrance to the theatre. The performance was not scheduled to begin until the next day at half past one. During Monday afternoon and evening the gathering outside the doors steadily increased in size, until, at midnight there were many hundreds. Miss Terry, late Monday night, appeared to greet the waiting enthusiasts, and Mr. Arthur Collins, the manager of Drury Lane, furnished them a supper of hot coffee, rolls and cake. When the doors were at last opened many of those who had thus patiently waited failed to find room within the theatre. The proceeds of this entertainment, together with those of a popular subscription in England and America, went to Miss Terry and amounted to about forty thousand dollars.

[88] It was during this tour that Miss Terry made her third marriage, to James Carew, an actor of her company. Charles Wardell (Charles Kelly) died in 1885.

[89] During this tour the honor and affection she had won in the minds of Americans were attested by various testimonials. She was given at a special ceremony the Founder’s Medal of the now extinct New Theatre in New York, a “farewell banquet” was tendered her there, and in both New York and Boston she received an elaborate “book of welcome,” signed by many notable people and accompanied by poetic addresses, composed in one case by Percy MacKaye and in the other by Josephine Preston Peabody.

[90] In January, 1914, she appeared at King’s Hall, London, as the Abbess in two performances of _Paphnutius_, a play written in the tenth century by Hroswitha, a Benedictine nun. It was on this old play that Anatole France founded his romance _Thaïs_. Thus did Ellen Terry, at nearly three score and ten, continue to furnish proof of her still youthful spirit and readiness for work. Later in the year she went to Australia to give there her Shakspearean lecture-readings. The great European war broke out, and conditions in Australia became so unfavorable that Miss Terry sailed for the United States, where she again lectured in a few of the larger cities.

For some years she had had increasing trouble with her eyes. Frequently she would spend the periods between the scenes in a darkened room. On February 23, 1914, in New York, Miss Terry underwent an operation, which proved successful, for the removal of a cataract from her right eye. In June, 1915, she reappeared in London on the occasion of a matinee given at the Haymarket in aid of one of the war charities. The play--a ballet pantomime called _The Princess and the Pea_--was the first musical piece in which Miss Terry ever took part. On this occasion also her two grandchildren made their stage _début_.

[91] In “The Yellow Book,” Vol. II (1894).

[92] Further precedent for Gabrielle’s career was furnished by her aunt, Mme. Naptal-Arnault, at one time a _pensionnaire_ of the _Comédie Française_.

[93] For much of the information in the early part of this chapter the author is indebted to _Loges et Coulisses_, by Jules Huret.