When war was first declared all the theaters and amusement places in
Berlin were closed, and it was not until after Christmas of that year
that they were opened again. Now everything is open except the dance
halls, for dancing is prohibited during the war. The famous resort
"Palais de Danse" is closed up and its outside is all covered with
posters asking for money for the Red Cross.
The theaters in Berlin are very well attended. As many times as I went
to the opera, which was quite often, every seat in the house was taken.
The greater part of every audience are soldiers who are glad to spend
some portion of their furloughs forgetting the horrors of war and life
in the trenches. The operas are as brilliant as before the war, but
many of the young stage favorites are missing, for even the matinee
idol must take his turn at the front. Several of the popular actors
have been killed.
One can always hear the French and Italian operas, and at concerts the
music of the great Russian composers. They do not prohibit the music of
enemy composers, and one can hear Verdi, Mascagni and Gounod. However,
"Madame Butterfly" and "Bohème" were never given to my knowledge. I do
not know whether it was because they had no singers for these operas
which are great favorites, or whether it was because of the nationality
of the composer.
[Illustration: _A Boat Race near Berlin, April, 1916._]
Just before I left Berlin I saw a wonderful production of "Aïda," and
the principal singers were Poles from the Royal Opera House in Warsaw.
The singers were received with the wildest enthusiasm. All the cast
except the Poles sang in German, and the Poles sang in Polish. The
duets sounded very funny. Two of the Polish singers were invited to
come and sing permanently in Berlin. They both declined. The man, who
has one of the most magnificent voices I ever heard, because he loves
Warsaw too much to leave it, and the woman because she did not want to
be tied up in Berlin with a five-years' contract, as she wants to come
to America as soon as the war is over. There is more or less a movement
in Germany to taboo the German singers who are in America, and they
also want to prevent all their new young singers from coming to us.
It will be a very hard task, for America is the aim of every German
singer, and no feeling of patriotism will keep them at home.
Since the war many new stars have arisen, and many new operas have
been played. From Bulgaria comes a young singer by the name of Anna
Todoroff, and she has taken Berlin by storm. Several boy wonders have
sprung up, the greatest being a little boy from Chili, Claude Arrau.
The greatest triumph of last season was Eugen d'Albert's new opera _Die
toten Augen_, or "The Dead Eyes," and it was played several times a
week. The music of the opera is lovely, entrancing, but what a strange
theme--a blind woman who is married to a man she has never seen, prays
unceasingly for her sight so that she can see her husband. At last
her prayer is answered, and when her eyes are opened she beholds a
beautiful man by her side whom she believes to be her husband. She
makes love to him, and he loves her in return. The husband who was
absent when his wife's sight was restored returns, and he finds his
wife's lover. He challenges the man to a duel and kills him. The woman
is distracted by grief. She no longer wishes to see, so she goes out
and sits in the sun with her eyes wide open. She sits there until her
very life is burned out. That is the end. D'Albert is a Belgian and
either his fourth or fifth wife was Madame Carreño, the pianist, who
died lately. His present wife is an English woman.
[Illustration: _An Art Exhibition Showing Fritz Erler's Picture of the
Crown Prince._]
An American named Langswroth has written a very successful opera called
"California." Perhaps it will be played in America. An old opera that
was played frequently last winter in Berlin was Meyerbeer's opera "_Die
Afrikanerin_." In spite of its age it was very popular.
The concerts are always well attended in Berlin; and Strauss, Nikisch
and von Weingartner are very popular. Each conductor has his following.
Last winter Lillie Lehmann gave a concert. She is sixty years old,
and her voice is still very beautiful. She does not sing very often
in public and spends most of her time writing songs and teaching a few
chosen pupils.
One misses the great foreign stars who always came to Berlin each
season, but still they have the great artists Joseph Schwartz, Conrad
Ansorge, Clara Dux, Slezak, Emil Sauer, Karl Flesch, Arthur Schnabel
and scores of others.
The character of the plays has more or less changed since the war, and
while comic operas are still being given, the most popular shows are
of a more serious character. The greatest favorites are Strindberg,
Ibsen, Brieux, Björnsen, Shaw, Wedekind and Shakespeare. A German
loves Shakespeare much more than an American or an Englishman does,
and last winter, all winter long, Max Reinhardt gave Shakespeare at
the Deutsches Theater. In spite of Shakespeare's English origin, the
plays were very well attended, and yet I do not think the audience was
like the German girl that Percival Pollard told about. He made her say,
"What a pity that Shakespeare is not translated into English. I should
think that they would like him in London."
The play that caused the greatest sensation in Germany last season was
a tragedy called "_Liebe_," or "Love." It was a grewsome tale of two
married people. It was full of the sordidness, the horrible actualities
of life. I lived at the same boarding-house with the actress that took
the part of the wife in the play, _Frau Anna_, the main role. She was
quite a frivolous young German girl, but she splendidly managed the
part of a woman that had been married nine years.
[Illustration: _A Boat Club in the Grunewald near Berlin._]
Moving picture shows are not as popular in Germany as in America
because of the high prices. In Germany it costs as much to go to
a "Kino"--that is what they call a "movie"--as it does to sit in
the gallery at the opera. For shows no better than our five-cent
shows we had to pay two marks, and one can sit in the gallery at the
Charlottenburg Opera House for ninety pfennigs.
They have their "movie stars," and one of the greatest favorites is an
American girl named Fern Andra. When I left Berlin her films were still
drawing great crowds, America's entrance into the war having made no
difference. They do not have Charlie Chaplin in Germany. They know him
in Norway, but so far Germany has escaped. One German editor wrote,
"_Gott sei Dank_, the war has prevented us from going Chaplin mad."
As a whole the German "movies" are not nearly so good as ours, they
cannot compare with our wonderful productions. The only part that is
better than ours is the music, and they always have fine orchestras of
from ten to thirty men. Here in America we just drop into a "movie,"
but in Germany it makes a special evening's entertainment. Most of the
"kinos" have restaurants attached, and in all "kinos" you must check
your wraps. I often stayed away from shows just because I hated the
idea of going to the _Garderobe_ and checking my wraps.
[Illustration: _Booty Exhibition in Berlin. Captured Air-Ships._]
I saw a great number of fine art exhibitions in Germany. Germans
consider an art exhibition as one of the necessities of life. Cubist
art has rather gone out of date, and war art has taken its place.
Such stirring pictures as these war artists have produced! Most of
the best German artists have been to the front sketching, and the
war productions of such artists as Fritz Erler and Walther Georgi
are some of the most wonderful paintings I have ever seen. Weisgerber
was another artist who has made blood-stirring war pictures. He was a
German officer and was killed a year ago in France. He was very young,
and his work was full of great promise. His work was much seen in _Die
Jugend_.
I saw the great Berlin exhibition of art last fall. It was not nearly
so interesting as the great international exhibitions that were held in
Germany before the war. It was monotonous, and yet I have never seen an
exhibit where so many pictures were sold. I saw hundreds and hundreds
of pictures marked _Verkauft_.
It is surprising the number of art works of all kinds that are being
bought in Germany. I often used to go to Lep's Auction Rooms where all
kinds of art works were sold, at auction. The place was always crowded
with bidders, and the bidding was fast and high. I went one day to a
stein sale and saw 119 steins sold for nearly 4000 marks. I am no judge
of porcelain, but it seemed like spending a lot of money. Another day
I went with a man I knew, a German. For 100 marks he bought three odd
tea-pot lids. He thought he had a great bargain, but I could not see
it.
[Illustration: _Booty Exhibition in Berlin. Captured Cannon._]
Germany has always been the land of _Ausstellungen_, or "exhibitions,"
and the war has only served to increase the number. In every city I
was in during the two years I saw dozens of _Kriegs-Ausstellungen_
advertised. Every city has had exhibitions of artificial arms and legs
with demonstrators showing how they work. Then they have displays of
uniforms, guns, aeroplanes, ships and photographs. In Berlin they
had an exhibition of the forts around Verdun. It was wonderfully
made--everything in proportion, with tiny soldiers, wagons, wire
entanglements etc. The greatest show they had when I was there was the
"Booty Exhibition" in which all kinds of captured war material were
displayed.
The Germans are very fond of walking, and the war has not decreased the
pleasure which they find in this pursuit. Before the war the walkers
did not carry their lunch with them, but now they must if they want to
get anything to eat; and every afternoon you can see crowds of people
starting out, each with a little package of lunch. The Berliners like
to go to the Grunewald where they stop at a little inn and order a cup
of _Kaffee-Ersatz_, eat their sandwiches, and feel they are having a
very nice time.
Sitting in a café with a cup of cold coffee before them, always has
been and always will be the favorite amusement of the German people.
Here they can read the magazines and papers and look around. Most
Germans do not entertain their friends at home but meet them at a café,
and each person pays for what he orders.
All through the war they have boat and track races, and these sports
are very popular. Before the war they had aeroplane exhibitions, but
these are not held any more. All the hospitals have concerts and moving
picture shows for the wounded soldiers.
The main amusement of the people now is talking about things to eat.
A man I know in Dresden meets eight of his cronies at a _Stammtisch_
every Saturday night. Before the war they discussed politics, art,
music, literature and science, but he says now they talk only about
eating. In March and April when we had that awful run of a vegetable
called _Kohlrüben_, the man I know said his _Stammtisch_ was going
to get out a cook-book for _Kohlrüben_, for they knew twenty-five
different ways to cook them!