LEST WE FORGET HELENA MODJESKA
                         (October 12, 1840 - April 8, 1909)

Born in Krakow, Poland, the vivacious, intelligent, and willful girl was taught by a resident tutor who was avidly interested in the theatre. He saw her potential as an actress and taught her dramatic literature and the German language to prepare her for a stage career. She bore the tutor's son, Rudolf, the same year she made her debut in the provincial Polish theatre.
        After refining her acting in the regional theatres she became one of the stars of the Krakow stage in 1868.   There she met and married Karol Chlapowski who was brought up in a wealthy and aristocratic family in spite of his family's objections.

In Warsaw she became one of the most popular stars of the Imperial Theatre, renowned for her performances in Shakespeare and classics of the Polish stage.
She began to expand her horizons when Maurice Neville, an American actor with whom she played Ophelia, urged her to try the New York stage.
    The Chlapowskis left Poland in 1875 with a small group of their friends all of whom were frustrated by the political conditions in Poland; they settled on a farm in Anaheim, California.  She began an intensive study of English to prepare her for her new career. While she became fluent in the language, she never lost her accent.
     Her American debut as the lead in Adrienne Lecouvreur was in August, 1877 in San Francisco. After a tour of California, she debuted in New York in the same play at the Fifth Avenue Theatre.

As Camille 1878

For the next thirty years she toured America in a repertory that included Macbeth, Henry Vlll, Mary Stuart, As You Like It, and Camille. She remained one of the most popular actresses in America. To parts like Rosalind (her most famous role), Viola in Twelfth Night, and Juliet in Romeo and Juliet, she brought lyricism and poetry through her beauty, grace, and refinement.  Critics praised the way she used her voice to give emphasis and clarity to her characters.

During the season of 1889-1890 she toured with Edwin Booth, who, at the end of his career and not in good health, was making his last tour of the country.

In Modjeska Her Life and Loves by Antoni Gronowicz, excerpts from her daily diary which she called "Our Life in a Private Railroad Car" during the tour are indicative of her feelings about Mr. Booth, the challenges of touring to small towns and her gift of observation.    Milwaukee, April 22: "We played Hamlet last night...the audience was cold and unsympathetic. After the performance we went to the car and had supper. Edwin Booth was delightful. He told us some of his early experiences: how in Honolulu he was compelled to paste his own bills on the corner of the streets, and was surprised at that work by a fellow from New York who happened to be there at the time.....I heard him talking to the ladies of the company for more than an hour. They all shrieked with laughter.                  
                                                        Cedar Rapids, Iowa

"I am still reading the letters of Wagner and Liszt. I keep remembering the phrase: "Do something new, new, always new." And I long to find new roles to play.....Edwin is just taking his afternoon nap and in my stateroom I can hear his steady sonorous breathing that is called "snoring."
   "Oh! oh! oh!" I exclaimed and put my handkerchief to my nose when we passed the threshold of the Cedar Rapids temple of art. I wonder if there is any part of Hades that smells as bad.  Later, we found out that a tannery stood just behind the theatre. We burned pastilles, Chinese sticks, paper and a lot of cotton trying to drown out that awful odor.  And I sprinkled the stage with eau de Cologne and kept my bottle to my nose for the entire performance.
       How I wish some of the stage-struck girls could have been here last night, that I could give them the pleasure of smelling the stage, which, in their imagination, is a heavenly ground strewn with roses. If any of them could see the dressing-room poor Portia occupied, they would slink away from this deceitful Paradise, and thank Heaven and their good parents for a comfortable home....

Peoria, Illinois
After dinner, Edwin entertained me again with his talk.  He said he has no ear for music. But if anyone makes a mistake when reciting blank verse he finds it immediately jars upon him like a false note.  Of course he is very particular about pronunciation, correct emphasis, and voice inflection. And he was kind enough to point out some of my own mistakes.  His remarks were all to do with Lady Macbeth.
    In the Merchant of Venice, he told me at first he did not like my putting my hand on Shylock's arm in the "mercy speech," but after more thought about it he had come to the conclusion that it was well worked out, and in fact "a beautiful piece of business."
     It seems that the reason he has not studied any new parts for a long time is that, whenever he put a new play on the bills, the audience kept away from it and asked for Hamlet, Richelieu etc.--plays which he has played for years. ...with Americans, the older the play the better "the draw."
        Decatur, April 26:  After the performance we were, as usual, chatting about various things when the talk again turned to "shop."  Edwin described Charlotte Cushman as being truly beautiful when she was old. Her features softened with age, and her constant suffering gave her face a look of exaltation that she never possessed in her youth. She used to imitate Macready's mannerisms, even to his way of speaking; having played with him for years, she got into the habit of echoing him without being conscious of it. Forrest dubbed her "Macready in petticoats." and she called him a brute...
       Sunday, April 27:  Edwin did not go out at all.  I fear his health is failing rapidly. We sat talking until two o'clock in the morning.  It would be impossible to put down all I heard that evening; but I remember that we talked of spiritualism, art, and travel, and also a little bit about actors.  I only listened and marveled at his narrative gift, his impressionability, and intelligence....He loathes doing things for show; it is only when he has confidence with people that he opens the valve of his eloquence.
 

Wheeling, West Virginia  May 7
Edwin's father was both a splendid reader and a great actor. He had never allowed his son to watch him while he played. Edwin used to go to the theatre with him to help him dress, but was kept in the dressing room and was expected to learn his leassons. He was all ears though, and did not lose one word of his father's reading nor of the other actors. His father did not want him to acquire any of his own peculiarities. He used to say: "I want your ear to be educated first."

   Our season closed in Buffalo with the Merchant of Venice. After the court scene and while we were taking curtain calls, I glanced at my dear Edwin Booth and was struck by the strange feeling that I would never see him again. Tears filled my eyes.  Perhaps he had the same thought, for after the final curtain when he turned to me and said, "Goodbye," I saw that his eyes were moist."

She frequently returned to Poland to visit and play occasional engagements and she also appeared successfully on the London stage.  She retired from the stage at the end of the 1906-1907 season, though she later gave occasional readings for the numerous charities she supported.
           
IN HER OWN WORDS
"When I was young I yearned for fame, but later on, all other considerations paled against the enthusiasm of the work itself. I fell in love with my art. To get out of myself, to forget all about Helena Modjeska, to throw my whole soul into the assumed character, to lead its life, to be moved by its emotions, thrilled by its passions, to suffer or rejoice--in one word, to identify myself with it and reincarnate another soul and body--this became my ideal, the goal of all my aspirations, and at the same time the enchantment and attraction of my work."


Resource:  Modjeska her Life and Loves.  Antoni Gronowicz. New York. 1956
Notable Women in the American Theatre. 1989  Rita M. Plotnicki