A LIVELY SUNDAY IN BOSTON--LECTURE IN THE BOSTON THEATER--DR. OLIVER
WENDELL HOLMES--THE BOOTH-MODJESKA COMBINATION.
_Boston, January 26._
"Max Eliot" devotes a charming and most flattering article to me in this
morning's _Herald_, embodying the conversation we had together yesterday
in the Boston _Herald's_ office. Many thanks, Max.
A reception was given to me this afternoon by Citizen George Francis
Train, and I met many artists, journalists, and a galaxy of charming
women.
The Citizen is pronounced to be the greatest crank on earth. I found him
decidedly eccentric, but entertaining, witty, and a first-rate
_raconteur_. He shakes hands with you in the Chinese fashion--he shakes
his own. He has taken a solemn oath that his body shall never come in
contact with the body of any one.
A charming programme of music and recitations was gone through.
The invitation cards issued for the occasion speak for themselves.
[Illustration: THE CITIZEN SHAKES HANDS.]
CITIZEN
GEORGE FRANCIS TRAIN'S
RECEPTION
To
CITOYEN MAX O'RELL.
P.S.--"Demons" have checkmated "Psychos"! Invitations canceled! "Hub"
Boycotts Sunday Receptions! Boston half century behind New York and
Europe's Elite Society. (Ancient Athens still Ancient!) Regrets and
Regards! Good-by, Tremont! (The Proprietors not to blame.)
_Vide_ some of his "Apothegmic Works"! (Reviewed in Pulitzer's New
York _World_ and Cosmos Press!)
* * * * *
John Bull et Son Ile! Les Filles de John Bull! Les Chers Voisins!
L'Ami Macdonald! John Bull, Junior! Jonathan et Son Continent!
L'Eloquence Francaise! etc.
YOU ARE INVITED TO MEET
this distinguished French Traveler, Author, and Lecturer (From the
land of Lafayette, Rochambeau, and De Grasse),
AT MY SIXTH "POP-CORN RECEPTION"!
SUNDAY, JANUARY TWENTY-SIXTH, From 2 to 7 P. M.
(Tremont House!)
_Private Banquet Hall!_ _Fifty "Notables"!_
Talent from Dozen Operas and Theaters! All Stars! No Airs! No "Wall
Flowers"! No Amens! No Selahs! But "MUTUAL ADMIRATION CLUB OF GOOD
FELLOWSHIP"! No Boredom! No Formality! (Dress as you like!) No
Programme! (Pianos! Cellos! Guitars! Mandolins! Banjos! Violins!
Harmonicas! Zithers!) Opera, Theater and Press Represented!
Succeeding Receptions: To Steele Mackaye! Nat Goodwin! Count Zubof
(St. Petersburg)! Prima Donna Clementina De Vere (Italy)! Albany Press
Club! (Duly announced printed invitations!)
GEORGE FRANCIS TRAIN,
Tremont House for Winter!
Psychic Press thanks for friendly notices of Sunday Musicales!
It will be seen from the "P. S." that the reception could not be held at
the Tremont House; but the plucky Citizen did not allow himself to be
beaten, and the reception took place at the house of a friend.
* * * * *
In the evening I lectured in the Boston Theater to a beautiful audience.
If there is a horrible fascination about "the man who won't smile," as I
mentioned in a foregoing chapter, there is a lovely fascination about
the lady who seems to enjoy your lecture thoroughly. You watch the
effects of your remarks on her face, and her bright, intellectual eyes
keep you in good form the whole evening; in fact, you give the lecture
to her. I perhaps never felt the influence of that face more powerfully
than to-night. I had spoken for a few minutes, when Madame Modjeska,
accompanied by her husband, arrived and took a seat on the first row of
the orchestra stalls. To be able to entertain the great _tragedienne_
became my sole aim, and as soon as I perceived that I was successful, I
felt perfectly proud and happy. I lectured to her the whole evening. Her
laughter and applause encouraged me, her beautiful, intellectual face
cheered me up, and I was able to introduce a little more acting and
by-play than usual.
I had had the pleasure of making Madame Modjeska's acquaintance two
years ago, during my first visit to the United States, and it was a
great pleasure to be able to renew it after the lecture.
I will go and see her _Ophelia_ to-morrow night.
* * * * *
_January 27._
Spent the whole morning wandering about Boston, and visiting a few
interesting places. Beacon Street, the public gardens, and Commonwealth
Avenue are among the finest thoroughfares I know. What enormous wealth
is contained in those miles of huge mansions!
The more I see Boston, the more it strikes me as a great English city.
It has a character of its own, as no other American city has, excepting
perhaps Washington and Philadelphia. The solidity of the buildings, the
parks, the quietness of the women's dresses, the absence of the twang in
most of the voices, all remind you of England.
After lunch I called on Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes. The "Autocrat of the
Breakfast Table" is now over eighty, but he is as young as ever, and
will die with a kind smile on his face and a merry twinkle in his eyes.
I know no more delightful talker than this delightful man. You may say
of him that every time he talks he says something. When he asked me what
it was I had found most interesting in America, I wished I could have
answered: "Why, my dear doctor, to see and to hear such a man as you, to
be sure!" But the doctor is so simple, so unaffected, that I felt an
answer of that kind, though perfectly sincere, would not have been one
calculated to please him. The articles "Over the Tea Cups," which he
writes every month for the _Atlantic Monthly_, and which will soon
appear in book form, are as bright, witty, humorous, and philosophic as
anything he ever wrote. Long may he live to delight his native land!
* * * * *
In the evening I went to see Mr. Edwin Booth and Madame Modjeska in
"Hamlet." By far the two greatest tragedians of America in Shakespeare's
greatest tragedy. I expected great things. I had seen Mounet-Sully in
the part, Henry Irving, Wilson Barrett; and I remembered the witty
French _quatrain_, published on the occasion of Mounet-Sully attempting
the part:
Sans Fechter ni Riviere
Le cas etait hasardeux;
Jamais, non jamais sur terre,
On n'a fait d'Hamlet sans eux.
I had seen Mr. Booth three times before. As _Brutus_, I thought he was
excellent. As _Richelieu_ he was certainly magnificent; as _Iago_
ideally superb.
His _Hamlet_ was a revelation to me. After seeing the raving _Hamlet_ of
Mounet-Sully, the somber _Hamlet_ of Irving, and the dreamy _Hamlet_ of
Wilson Barrett, I saw this evening _Hamlet_ the philosopher, the
rhetorician.
Mr. Booth is too old to play _Hamlet_ as he does, that is to say,
without any attempt at making-up. He puts on a black wig, and that is
all, absolutely all. It is, however, a most remarkable, subtle piece of
acting in his hands.
Madame Modjeska was beautiful as _Ophelia_. No _tragedienne_ that I have
ever seen weeps more naturally. In all sad situations she makes the
chords of one's heart vibrate, and that without any trick or artifice,
but simply by the modulations of her singularly sympathetic voice and
such like natural means.
It is very seldom that you can see in America, outside of New York, more
than one very good actor or actress playing together. So you may imagine
the success of such a combination as Booth-Modjeska.
Every night the theater is packed from floor to ceiling, although the
prices of admission are doubled.
[Illustration]