best
American singer, sang the _Wanderer_ that night. Saenger asked us to go
to the theatre with him, as we had not met in years, and by chance we
chose "Fruehlingserwachen" of Wedekind. Never shall I forget that
evening. The quiet, dark wooden walls of the theatre, and the
comfortable box they showed us into, in which we sat, seeing but unseen
in the obscurity; the lack of applause when the curtain fell, and
then--the performance. German actors lead the world, in my opinion, and
the intensity of those players, the skill with which they played those
most unhappy children, the tremulous, inadequate mother, that dark scene
with its girl-women shriek, left us breathless and dazed.

The highest possible tribute I pay to German actors, and to some of
those gathered together that winter in that theatre. Such a _Falstaff_
I never saw as we saw there in "Henry V," nor such marvellous
presentations of Shakespeare. Moissy as _Prince Hal_ in his father's
deathbed scene; the _Doll Tearsheet_; the collection of hangers-on in
the Inn Scene, the understanding of the spirit of Shakespeare--all these
were priceless joys. Shakespeare does not spell bankruptcy in Germany,
and the people really love it, and perhaps there is a reason why.

The next night in the same house, you might see a translation of a
French drawingroom comedy. With the exception of one or two, these
people were quite as at home in that as in classic drama. That I had
never believed possible till I saw it proven. It had always seemed to me
that the French were absolutely unrivalled in such things as "Mlle.
Georgette, ma femme"; but they were even more sincerely, yet just as
lightly done by Reinhardt's people. It was always such a joy in Europe
to go to the theatre in London, Paris or Berlin. To see Lavalliere with
her inimitable _gamine_ ways, was the most delicious of pleasures; and
the polish of the older actors of the French stage, the _Marquis_ or
_Marquise_, or old butler or housekeeper, as the case may be, is a
wonderful model for the student. French actors seem to be able to come
into a room, sit down at a table and talk for half an hour, using almost
no gestures, without becoming in the least boresome or monotonous. When
scenes of strong passion are wanted, the Germans, I think, excel their
French rivals. A Frenchman, or, for that matter, any Latin, is inclined
to rant just a bit, and become unconvincing, at least to an Anglo-Saxon
mind; but the German, when ca