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 t&^S^u- ia CD n ^^..^ N^l? 
 

HENRY IRVING'S 
 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA, 
 
 NARRATED IN A 
 
 SERIES OF SKETCHES, CHRONICLES, AND 
 CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 BY 
 
 JOSEPH HATTON 
 
 AUTHOK OP "CLYTIE," "CRUEL LONDON," "THREE RECRUITS," 
 "JOURNALISTIC LONDON," "TO-DAY IN AMERICA," ETC. 
 
 NEW AND CHEAPER EDITION. 
 
 "- > 
 
 IContfon: 
 SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE, & RIVINGTON, 
 
 CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET. 
 
 1884. 
 [All rights reserved.'] 
 
LONDON : 
 
 PBIHTED BY GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, LIMITED, 
 ST. JOHN'S SQUABE. 
 
TO THE ENGLISH PUBLIC. 
 
 THE interest taken by you in our American experiences 
 has been made manifest to us in many ways on this 
 side of the Atlantic. We have received the " God 
 speed " of friends and associates, and a record of our 
 trip will, I believe, be interesting to many. 
 
 My own share in this book is but small ; and to my 
 friend, Joseph Hatton, belongs whatever credit there 
 may be in it. It will, I hope, be accepted only for 
 what it professes to be, a series of sketches, chroni- 
 cles, and conversations regarding a tour which the 
 American people made for us, by their welcome and 
 by their bounteous hospitality, a delightful progress. 
 , In our intercourse with our friends, old and 
 new, throughout the United States, nothing has 
 impressed us more than their fondness for the old 
 country. The greetings which we have every- 
 where received we take to be as much a token 
 of the love of Americans for the English people, 
 as an expression of personal good-feeling toward 
 ourselves. 
 
 HENRY IRVING. 
 
 YORK, April 30, 1884. 
 
TO THE AMERICAN PUBLIC. 
 
 THIS book is the outcome of a desire to chronicle, 
 in a lasting form, some of the events of a tour 
 which your kindness has made a delight to Ellen 
 Terry and myself. Before leaving London I ven- 
 tured upon a prophecy that in journeying to America 
 we. were going amongst friends. That prophecy 
 has been fulfilled. 
 
 In the history of the stage the Lyceum Company is 
 the first complete organization which has crossed the 
 Atlantic with the entire equipment of a theatre. 
 
 As the tour is, I believe, unique, so also is this 
 record of it; and I particularly desire to emphasize 
 a fact concerning its authorship. I am, myself, 
 only responsible for my share in the conversations 
 and dialogues that are set down, everything else 
 being the work of my friend, Joseph Hatton, well 
 known to you as the author of " To-day in 
 America/' 
 
 I can but trust that I have not erred in expressing, 
 for publication, some passing thoughts about a country 
 which has excited my profound admiration, and which 
 has the highest claims upon my gratitude. 
 
 HENKY 
 
 NEW YORK, April 30, 1884. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 AT HOME. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Talking of America Warned against the Interviewer 
 " Travellers' Tales " International Gossip A mythi- 
 cal Palace on the Thames Eeports from " A little 
 English Friend" The Grange A Grafton Street 
 Interior Souvenirs and Portraits An Actor on 
 his Audiences Hamlet at the Lyceum Critics and 
 Public Opinion The final Yerdict First Nights 
 Anonymous Letters Notable Gifts The Character 
 of Louis XI. " A poor Mother who had lost her Son " 
 Scene Calls Stories of a " Dresser " Behind the 
 Scenes" Waking up " The original Beefsteak Club 
 Boom Host and Guests . . . . .1 
 
 II. 
 NEW YOEK. 
 
 Going to meet the Britannic The Blackbird Skirmishers 
 of the American Press The London Standard's Mes- 
 sage to New York, Boston, and Chicago " Working " 
 America " Eeportorial " Experiences Daylight off 
 Staten Island At Quarantine under the Stars and 
 Stripes" God Save the Queen ! " and " Hail to the 
 Chief! " " Eeceived and Interviewed" " Portia on a 
 Trip from the Venetian Seas " What the Eeporters 
 think, and what Irving says The Necessity of Ap- 
 plause An Anecdote of Forrest Mr. Vanderbilt and 
 the Mirror Miss Terry and the Eeporters " Tell them 
 I never loved home so well as now" Landed and 
 Welcomed Scenes on the Quay At the Brevoort . 29 
 
vi Contents. 
 
 ill. 
 
 FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Union Square, New York An enterprising Chronicler 
 The Lambs The Newspapers and the New-comers 
 " Art must advance with the Times " " Romeo and 
 Juliet " at the Lyceum " Character Parts " No real 
 Tradition of Shakespearian Acting " Mannerisms " 
 The Stage as an Educator Lafayette Place A notable 
 little Dinner The great American Bird, "Not the 
 Eagle, but the Duck "A Question of " Appropriate 
 Music " Speculators in Tickets and their enormous 
 Profits Middlemen, the Star Theatre, and the play- 
 going Public 50 
 
 IV. 
 AT THE LOTOS CLUB. 
 
 The Savage Club of America Thackeray and Lord Hough- 
 ton A great Banquet Mr. Whitelaw Reid on Irving 
 and the Actor's Calling " Welcome to a country 
 where he may find not unworthy brethren " An 
 Answer to the Warnings of the English Traveller of 
 Chapter I. "Shakespeare's Charles the First" A 
 Night of Wit and Humour The Knighting of Sullivan 
 The Delineator of Romance visiting the Home of 
 America's Creator of Romance After-dinner Stories 
 Conspiring against the Peace of a harmless Scotchman 
 A pleasant Jest 66 
 
 Y. 
 THE NIGHT BEFORE THE PLAY. 
 
 The Vividness of first Impressions New York Hotels On 
 the Elevated Road with " Charlie " Trotting-horses 
 Audiences on both sides of the Atlantic "A man 
 knows best what he can do" "Americanisms," so 
 called A satirical Sketch, entitled " Bitten by a Dog" 
 Louis and the Duke of Stratford-on-Avon Macready 
 and the Forrest Riots . 79 
 
Contents. vii 
 
 YI. 
 
 THE BELLS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Stormy Night in New York Ticket Speculators ^at 
 work A first-night Audience Mathias received with 
 Enthusiasm Behind the Scenes Lighting the Stage 
 Returning Thanks Criticism of the Crowd John 
 Gilbert's Opinion Actor and Audience English Play- 
 goers and Londoners Laughter and Applause An 
 artistic Triumph . .90 
 
 VII. 
 "BED LETTER DAYS." 
 
 Miss Ellen Terry's first appearance in New York The 
 Press on Charles and the Queen A Professional 
 Matinee An audience of Actors to see Louis XL 
 How they impressed the Actor, and what they thought 
 of him A visit to Henry Ward Beecher At Church 
 and at Home Mrs. Beecher and Miss Terry Remi- 
 niscences Studies of Death, Physiological and Ideal- 
 istic Louis's Death and Hamlet's A strange Story . 104 
 
 VIII. 
 A QUIET EVENING. 
 
 A first Visit behind the Scenes Cooper and Kean The 
 University Club A very notable Dinner Chief Justice 
 Davis and Lord Chief Justice Coleridge A Menu 
 worth discussing Terrapin and canvas-back Duck 
 "A little Family Party " Florence's Romance 
 Among the Lambs The Fate of a Manuscript Speech 
 A story of John Kemble Words of Welcome Last 
 Night of the New York Engagement Au revoir ! . 123 
 
 IX. 
 AT PHILADELPHIA AND " IN CLOVER." 
 
 Rivalries of American Cities Boston and Philadelphia- 
 The real and the picturesque Miss Terry's Portia 
 
viii Contents. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 " Three kinds of Criticism " First appearance as 
 Hamlet Miss Terry's Ophelia Journalism and the 
 Stage Critics, past and present Philadelphia and 
 English Cities A new style of Newspaper Bogus 
 Eeports and Interviews: an example of them The 
 Clover Club A Letter from an eminent American 
 Tragedian Presented with Forrest's Watch The 
 Macready trouble Hamlet, and an invitation from 
 Guest to Hosts . . 142 
 
 X. 
 
 BOSTON AND SHYLOCK. 
 
 Rural Scenes on both Sides of the Atlantic First Impres- 
 sions of Railway Travel The Cars One of the largest 
 Theatres in America The Drama in Boston Early 
 Struggles to represent Plays in Public" Moral Lec- 
 tures " Boston Criticisms Shylock, Portia, Hamlet, 
 and Ophelia Different Readings of Shylock Dressing- 
 room Criticism Shylock considered A Reminiscence 
 of Tunis Shakespeare interpreted on the Stage 
 Two Methods illustrated Shylock before the Court of 
 Yenice The Judgment of Actors . . . 163 
 
 XI. 
 A CITY OF SLEIGHS. 
 
 Snow, and Sleigh-bells " Brooks of Sheffield" In the 
 Boston Suburbs Smokeless Coal At the Somerset 
 Club Miss Ellen Terry and the Papyrus A Ladies' 
 Night " Greeting to Ellen Terry" St. Botolph 
 Oliver Wendell Holmes and Charles the First " Good- 
 bye and a Merry Christmas" * 181 
 
 XII. 
 LOOKING FORWARD TO CHRISTMAS. 
 
 Interviewing in England and America Rehearsing 
 Richard and Lady Ann Reminiscences of a Christmas 
 
Contents. ix 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Dinner A Homely Feast Joe Robins and Guy 
 Fawkes He would be an Actor The Luxury of 
 Warmth" One Touch of Nature " ... .193 
 
 XIII. 
 A WILD KAILWAY JOURNEY. 
 
 A Great American Railway Station Platforms and "Wait- 
 ing-Rooms A queer Night " Snow is as Bad as Fog " 
 A Farmer who suggests Mathias in " The Bells " 
 A Romance of the Hudson Looking for the Maryland 
 and Finding " The Danites "Fighting a Snow- Storm 
 " A Ministering Angel" The Publicity of Private 
 Cars My sterious Proceedings Strange Lights 
 Snowed up Digging out the Railway Points A 
 Good Samaritan Locomotive Trains Ahead of Us, 
 Trains Behind Us Railway Lights and Bells 
 " What's going on ? " 202 
 
 XIY. 
 CHRISTMAS, AND AN INCIDENT BY THE WAY. 
 
 At Baltimore Street Scenes Christmas Wares Pretty 
 Women in "Rubber Cloaks " Contrasts Street 
 Hawkers Southern Blondes Furs and Diamonds 
 Rehearsing under Difficulties Blacks and Whites 
 Negro Philosophy Honest Work "The Best Com- 
 pany on its Legs I have ever seen " Our Christmas 
 Supper " Absent Friends " Pictures in the Fire and 
 afterwards An intercepted Contribution to Magazine 
 Literature Correcting a Falsehood Honesty and 
 Fair Play 219 
 
 XV. 
 
 FROM BROOKLYN TO CHICAGO. 
 
 " Fussy "The Brooklyn Ferry Crossing the North River 
 A Picturesque Crowd Brooklyn Bridge at Night 
 Warned against Chicago Conservatism of American 
 Critics Dangers of the Road Railway-train Bandits 
 
x Contents. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 An early Interviewer A Reporter's Story Life on 
 a Private Car Miss Terry and her "Luck" American 
 Women . 235 
 
 XVI. 
 THE PEAIEIE CITY. 
 
 First Impressions of Chicago A Bitter Winter Great 
 Storms Thirty Degrees below Zero On the Shores 
 of Lake Michigan Street Architecture Pullman 
 City Western Journalism Chicago Criticism 
 Notable Entertainments At the Press Club The 
 Club Life of America What America has done 
 Unfair Comparisons between the Great New World and 
 the Older Civilizations of Europe Mistaking Notoriety 
 for Fame A Speech of Thanks Facts, Figures, and 
 Tests of Popularity, past and to come .... 248 
 
 XVII. 
 
 ST. LOUIS, CINCINNATI, INDIANAPOLIS, 
 COLUMBUS. 
 
 Sunshine and Snow Wintry Landscapes Fire and Frost 
 Picturesque St. Louis "The Elks" A Notable 
 Reception " Dime Shows " Under-studies Ger- 
 many in America " On the Ohio " Printing under 
 Difficulties " Baggage-smashing " Handsome Ne- 
 groes and Sunday Papers The Wonders of Chicago . 266 
 
 XVIII. 
 CHIEFLY CONCERNING A HOLIDAY AT NIAGARA. 
 
 The Return Visit to Chicago Welcomed back again 
 Farewell Speech Niagara in the Winter A Sensation 
 at the Hotel Requisitioning adjacent Towns for 
 Chickens and Turkeys Ira Aldridge and a Coloured 
 Dramatic Club A Blizzard from the North-West 
 The Scene of Webb's Death "A great Stage- 
 manager, Nature " Life and Death of " The Hermit 
 of Niagara " A fatal Picnic The Lyceum Company 
 at Dinner Mr. Howe proposes a Toast Terriss meets 
 with an Accident that recalls a Romantic Tragedy . 280 
 
Contents. xi 
 
 XIX. 
 FROM TORONTO TO BOSTON. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Lake Ontario Canadian Pastimes Tobogganing On an 
 Ice Slide " Shooting Niagara and After " Toronto 
 Students Dressing for the Theatre " God save the 
 Queen " Incidents of Travel Locomotive Vagaries 
 Stopping the Train " Fined one hundred Dollars " 
 The Hotels and the Poor Tenement Houses The 
 Stage and the Pulpit Actors, past and present 
 The Stage and the Bar-room The second Visit to 
 Boston Enormous Receipts A Glance at the 
 Financial Results of the Tour . ... 296 
 
 XX. 
 
 WASHINGTON, NEW ENGLAND, AND SOME 
 "RETURN VISITS." 
 
 From Rail to River Once more on board the Maryland 
 Recollections of President Arthur At the White 
 House Washington Society An apt Shakespearian 
 Quotation ^Distinguished People " Hamlet" A 
 Council of War Making out the Route of a New Tour 
 A Week in New England Cities Brooklyn and 
 Philadelphia Re-visited . . ... . . .310 
 
 XXI. 
 "BY THE WAY." 
 
 " My Name is Mulldoon, I live in the Twenty-Fourth 
 W ar d. " Protective Duties and the Fine Arts" The 
 General Muster " A Message from Kansas City - 
 American Cabmen Alarming Notices in Hotels 
 The Chicago Fire Service What a Fire Patrol 
 can do in a few seconds William Winter " Office 
 Rules " The Reform Club and Politics Enterprising 
 Reporters International Satire How a Man of 
 " Simple and Regular Habits " lives Secretaries in 
 Waiting The Bisbee Murders " Hunted Down" 
 Outside Civilization The Bazoo The Story of a 
 Failure A Texan Tragedy Shooting in a Theatre 
 Evolutions of Towns 330 
 
xii Contents. 
 
 XXII. 
 "THE LONGEST JOURNEY COMES TO AN END." 
 
 PAGE 
 
 " Our Closing Month in New York " Lent At Rehearsal 
 Finishing Touches Behind the Scenes at the 
 Lyceum and the Star The Story of the Production 
 of " Much Ado " in New York Scenery and Proper- 
 ties on the Tour Tone Surprises for Agents in 
 Advance Interesting Technicalities An Incident of 
 the Mounting of 'Much Ado" The Tomb Scene 
 A Great Achievement The End . . . .362 
 
IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA, 
 
 i. 
 
 AT HOME. 
 
 Talking of America Warned against the Interviewer 
 "Travellers' Tales" International Gossip A mythical 
 Palace on the Thames Eeports from " A little English 
 Friend " The Grange A Grafton Street Interior Sou- 
 venirs and Portraits An Actor on his Audiences Hamlet 
 at the Lyceum Critics and Public Opinion The final 
 Verdict First Nights Anonymous Letters Notable 
 Gifts The Character of Louis XI. " A poor Mother who 
 had lost her Son " Scene Calls Stories of a " Dresser " 
 Behind the Scenes " "Waking up " The original Beef- 
 steak Club Room Host and Guests. 
 
 I. 
 
 ' ' AND I don't think lie believes a word I have said/' 
 was Mr. John T. Kaymond's own commentary upon a 
 series of romances of " the wild West " which he had 
 related to Mr. Henry Irving l with an intensity that 
 was worthy of Col. Sellers himself. 
 
 1 John Henry Brodripp Irving was born at Keinton, near 
 Glastonbury (the scene of the tradition of the sacred thorn), 
 February 6, 1838. In 1849 his father sent him to the private 
 school of Dr. Pinches, in George Yard, Lombard Street, London. 
 During his school days he evinced a taste for dramatic poetry. 
 He was placed in the office of an East India house, and 
 might, had he liked his occupation, have become a prosperous 
 merchant ; but his ambition gravitated towards the stage. He 
 made personal sacrifices in many ways to educate himself in the 
 direction of his taste for dramatic work. He read plays, studied 
 
 B 
 
2 Impressions of America. 
 
 The comedian's reminiscences were graphic narra- 
 tives of theatrical and frontier life, with six-shooters 
 and bowie-knives in them, and narrow escapes enongh 
 to have made the fortunes of what the Americans call a 
 ten-cent novel. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I believe it is the duty of the door-keeper at 
 a Western theatre to collect the weapons of the audi- 
 ence before admitting the people to the house ; that 
 what we call the cloak-room in London, you might call 
 the armoury out West ; and that the bowie-knife of a 
 Texan critic never weighs less than fourteen pounds. 
 But I am not going as far as Texas, though one might 
 do worse if one were merely crossing the Atlantic in 
 search of adventures." 
 
 America was at this time a far-off country, about 
 which travellers told Irving strange stories. I recall 
 many a pleasant evening in the Beefsteak Club Room 
 of the Lyceum Theatre, when famous citizens of the 
 
 the theatre and dramatic literature, became an expert fencer, 
 practised elocution with a famous actor, and in 1855 left London 
 and obtained an engagement in a provincial theatre. An earnest 
 student always, he fought his way through a world of troubles, 
 and made his first success at the St. James's Theatre, London, 
 October 6, 1866, as Doricourt in " The Belle's Stratagem." He 
 afterwards played in eccentric comedy with Toole ; made a hit 
 in melodrama at the now defunct Queen's Theatre ; then 
 went to Paris with Sothern, and played Abel Murcot in " Our 
 American Cousin." Beturning to London, he filled important 
 engagements at the Gaiety and Vaudeville Theatres. His ap- 
 pearance at the Lyceum Theatre, London, followed. Here, 
 after his friend, Manager Bateman, had staked and lost every- 
 thing on " Fanchette," Mr. Irving advised the production of 
 " The Bells," which restored the fortunes of the house, and was 
 the beginning of a series of artistic and financial successes, both 
 for the management and the leading actor. On the death of 
 Mr. Bateman, and the withdrawal of his widow from the 
 lesseeship of the theatre, Mr. Irving entered upon manage- 
 ment. One day I hope to tell the story of his life and ad- 
 ventures. Placidly as the river of his fortunes may seem to 
 have flowed since he became lessee of the Lyceum, in October, 
 1878, the incidents of his early struggles are not more interest- 
 ing than his managerial battles and victories in these latter days 
 of London. 
 
At Home. 3 
 
 United States, actors more particularly, have sat at 
 his round table, and smoked the Havannah of peace 
 and pleasant memories : Booth, Barrett, Boucicault, 
 McCullough, Raymond, Florence, and others of their 
 craft : Generals Horace Porter, Fairchild, Merritt, Mr. 
 Sam. Ward, Mr. Rufus Hatch, Mr. James R. Osgood, 
 Mr. Hurlbert, Mr. Crawford, Col. Buck, Mr. Dan 
 Dougherty, and many others. They all promised him 
 a kindly reception and a great success. 
 
 " I question, however/' said an English guest, taking 
 the other side, as Englishmen lo/e to do, if only for the 
 sake of argument, " if America will quite care for the 
 naturalness of your effects, the neutral tones of some 
 of your stage pictures, the peaceful character, if I may 
 so style it, of your representations. They like breadth 
 and colour and show ; they are accustomed to the mar- 
 vellous and the gigantic in nature ; they expect on the 
 stage some sort of interpretation of these things, 
 great rivers, lofty mountains, and the startling colours 
 of their fall tints. Your gentle meads of Hampton, 
 the poetic grace of ' Charles the First/ the simplicity 
 of your loveliest sets, and the quiet dignity of your 
 Shylock, will, I fear, seem tame to them." 
 
 " Human nature, I fancy/' Irving responded, ' ' is the 
 same all the world over, and I have played to many 
 Americans in this very theatre. You will say, per- 
 haps, that they will accept here in London what they 
 would not care for on the other side of the Atlantic. 
 You would say we are an old country, with fairly 
 settled tastes in art, a calm atmosphere, a cultivated 
 knowledge ; and that possibly what we, in our nar- 
 rower ways, regard as a subtilty of art, they may not 
 see. That may be so, though some of their humour is 
 subtle enough, and the best of it leaves a great deal to 
 the imagination. I know many persons, American 
 and English, have talked to me in your strain ; yet I 
 never saw quieter or more delicate acting than in 
 Jefferson's Rip Yan Winkle. As I said before, human 
 nature is ever the same : it loves and hates, it quarrels 
 
 B 2 
 
4 . Impressions of America. 
 
 and murders, it honours valour, sympathizes with the 
 unfortunate, and delights in seeing human passions 
 delineated on the stage. Moreover, are not the 
 Americans, after all, our own flesh and blood ? I never 
 think of them in the sense of foreigners, as one does 
 of the French and Germans, and the other European 
 nations who do not speak our language ; and I have 
 yet to learn that there is any difference between us so 
 marked that the jangle of ' The Bells ' shall not stir 
 their imagination as much *i 3 the sorrows of Charles 
 shall move their hearts, and the story of Louis heighten 
 their pulses. We shall see. I cannot exactly say 
 that my soul's in arms and eager for the fray, but I 
 have no doubt about the result. That love of breadth, 
 of largeness, of colour, you talk of, should go hand in 
 hand with a catholic taste, devoid of littleness and 
 combined with a liberal criticism that is not always 
 looking for spots on the sun." 
 
 "You are not nervous, then, as to your recep- 
 tion?" 
 
 "No, I am sure it will be kindly; and, for their 
 criticism, I think it will be just. There is the same 
 honesty of purpose and intention in American as in 
 English criticism, and, above all, there is the great 
 play-going public, which is very much the same frank, 
 generous, candid audience all over the world." 
 
 ft But there is the American interviewer ! You have 
 not yet encountered that interesting individual." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I have." 
 
 " Has he been here, then ? " 
 
 " Yes ; not in his war-paint, nor with his six-shooter 
 and bowie-knife, as he goes about in Kaymond's Texan 
 country, yet an interviewer still." 
 
 " And you found him not disagreeable ? " asked the 
 travelled guest. 
 
 " I found him well informed and quite a pleasant 
 fellow." 
 
 "Ah, but he was here under your own control, 
 probably smoking a cigar in your own room. Wait 
 
At Home. 5 
 
 until lie boards the steamer off New York. Then you 
 will see the sort of fellow he is, with his string of 
 questions more personal than the fire of an Old Bailey 
 lawyer at a hostile witness under cross-examination. 
 The Inquisition of old is not in the race with these 
 gentlemen, except that the law, even in America, does 
 not allow them to put you to physical torture, though 
 they make up for that check upon their liberty by the 
 mental pain they can inflict upon you. Apart from the 
 interviewers proper, I have known reporters to disguise 
 themselves as waiters, that they may pry into your 
 secYets and report upon your most trivial actions." 
 
 " You have evidently suffered/' said Irving. 
 
 " No, not I ; but I have known those who have. 
 Nothing is sacred from the prying eyes and unscru- 
 pulous pens of these men. 'You smile, old friend/ 
 to quote your 'Louis the Eleventh/ but I am not 
 exaggerating nor setting down aught in malice. You 
 will see ! The interviewers will turn you inside out." 
 
 " You don't say so ! Well, that will be a new sen- 
 sation, at all events," answered Irving ; and, when our 
 friend had left, he remarked, " I wonder if Americans, 
 when they visit this country, go home and exaggerate 
 our peculiarities as much as some of our own country- 
 men, after a first trip across the Atlantic, evidently 
 exaggerate theirs ?" 
 
 " There are many travellers who, in relating their 
 experiences, think it necessary to accentuate them 
 with exaggerated colour ; and then we have to make 
 allowances for each man's individuality." 
 
 " How much certain of our critical friends make of 
 that same 'individuality/ by the way, when they choose 
 to call it ' mannerism ! ' The interviewers, I suppose, 
 will have a good deal to say on that subject/' 
 
 ''English papers and American correspondents 
 have given them plenty of points for personal 
 criticism." 
 
 " That is true. They will be clever if they can find 
 anything new to say in that direction. Well, I don't 
 
6 Impressions of America. 
 
 think it is courage, and I know it is not vanity ; yet 
 I feel quite happy about this American tour/' 
 
 n. 
 
 No man was ever more written of or talked about in 
 America than Henry Irving; probably no man was 
 ever more misrepresented as to his art and his life. A 
 monster, according to his enemies ; an angel, if you 
 took the verdict of his friends ; he was a mystery to 
 untraveDed American journalists, and an enigma to the 
 great play-going public of the American cities. They 
 were told that people either loved or hated him at first 
 sight. American tourists carried home contradictory 
 reports of his appearance, though the majority were 
 enthusiastic in praise of him as an actor and as a man. 
 The American newspaper correspondent is naturally a 
 trifle more sensational in the style of his work than his 
 English colleague, because his editor favours graphic 
 writing, entertaining chronicles, picturesque descrip- 
 tions. Then the sub-editor or compiler of news from 
 the foreign exchanges looks out for " English per- 
 sonals," gossip about the Queen, notes on the Prince 
 of Wales, out-of-the-way criticisms of actors and public 
 persons of all classes ; and so every outre thing that has 
 been published concerning Irving in England has found 
 its way into the ubiquitous press of America. Added 
 to this publicity, private correspondence has also dealt 
 largely with him, his work, his manners, his habits ; 
 for every American, who travels, writes letters home to 
 his family and often to his local paper, and many 
 English people who have visited America keep up a 
 pleasant epistolary communication with their good 
 friends in the New World. 
 
 in. 
 
 BEING in New York ahead of Mr. Irving' s arrival, I 
 found much of the curious fiction of which gossip had 
 made him the hero, crystallized into definite assertions 
 that were accepted as undisputed facts. A day's sail 
 
At Home. 7 
 
 from the Empire city, in a pretty Eastern villa, I 
 discovered the London gossip-monger's influence 
 rampant. But if a prominent critic in London could 
 publicly credit Mr. Irving's success as an actor to his 
 hospitable dispensation of " chicken and champagne," 
 one need not be surprised that social gossips should 
 draw as liberally on their imagination for illustrations 
 of his social popularity. A leading figure in the world 
 of art, and a person of distinction in Vanity Fair, it is 
 not to be wondered at that Jealousy and Mrs. Grundy, 
 standing outside his orbit, should invent many startling 
 stories about him. I have not exaggerated the follow- 
 ing conversation, and I am glad to use it here, not 
 only as illustrative of the singular misrepresentations of 
 Irving's life and habits, but to bind up in this volume 
 a sketch of the actor and the man which has the merit 
 of being eminently true, and at the same time not 
 inappropriate to these pages. 
 
 " Lives in chambers ! " exclaimed an American lady, 
 during an after-dinner conversation in a pleasant 
 Eastern home. " I thought he owned a lovely palace. " 
 
 " Indeed; where, madam ? " I asked, " in Utopia ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; on the banks of your Thames river. A 
 little English friend of mine told me so, and described 
 the furnishing of it. I understand that it is as splendid 
 as Claude Melnotte's by the Lake of Como." 
 
 "And as real?" 
 
 " I don't know what you mean ; but, if what she 
 says is true, it is wickeder, any way. You do not 
 say that it is all false about his banquets to the 
 aristocracy, his royal receptions? What about the 
 Prince of Wales, then, and Lord Beaconsfield and 
 Mr. Gladstone and the Poet Laureate visiting him ? 
 And his garden parties and the illuminations at 
 night, parterres of flowers mixed up with coloured 
 lamps, his collections of rhododendrons and his military 
 bands ? " 
 
 " Were you ever at a botanical fete in Regent's 
 Park?" I asked. 
 
8 Impressions of America. 
 
 "I Lave never crossed the Atlantic." 
 
 "Your little English friend evidently knows the 
 Botanical well." 
 
 " She is acquainted with everything and everybody 
 in London. I wish she were here now. Perhaps she 
 knows a little more than some of Mr. Irving' s friends 
 care to admit." 
 
 " Does she know Mr. Irving ? " 
 
 " She knows his house." 
 
 " By the Lake of Como ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; by the Thames." 
 
 " One comes from home to hear news. Will you 
 not tell us all about it, then ? " 
 
 " No, I will not. I think you are positively rude ; 
 but that is like you English. There, I beg your par- 
 don ; you made me say it. But, seriously now, is not 
 Mr. Irving as rich as " 
 
 " Claude Melnotte ? " 
 
 "No; Croesus, or Yanderbilt, or Mackay? And 
 does he not live in that palace, and have crowds of 
 servants, and visit with the court and the aristocracy ? 
 Why, I read in the papers myself, quite lately, of an 
 estate he had bought near, let me see is there such a 
 place as Hammersmith ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Is that on the Thames ?" 
 
 " Yes, more or less." 
 
 " Well, then, is that true ? More or less, I suppose. 
 You are thinking how inquisitive I am. But you 
 started the subject." 
 
 "Did I?" 
 
 " You said he lives in chambers." 
 
 " I answered your own question." 
 
 " Ah ! " she said, laughing merrily, " now I know 
 my little English friend spoke the truth, because I 
 remember she said there was a mystery about Mr. 
 Irving's lovely house ; that he only receives a certain 
 princely and lordly set there. How could she have 
 described it if she had not seen it ? A baronial castle, 
 
At Home. 9 
 
 a park, lovely gardens, great dogs lying about on the 
 lawns, wainscoted chambers, a library full of scarce 
 books and costly bric-a-brac, Oriental rugs, baths, 
 stained-glass windows, suits of armour, and a powerful 
 bell in a turret to call the servants in to meals." 
 
 "Beautiful! But if there is a mystery about it, 
 what of those gorgeous receptions ? " 
 
 " Oh, don't ask me questions. It is I who am seek- 
 ing for information. There is no public person in the 
 world just at this moment in whom I take a deeper 
 interest. If he were not coming to America, I should 
 have been obliged to go to London, if only to see what 
 you call a first night at the Lyceum. We read all 
 about these things. We are kept well informed by 
 our newspaper correspondents " 
 
 " And your little English friend/' 
 
 ' ' Yes, she writes to me quite often." 
 
 " Well, now I will tell you the truth about that palace 
 on the Thames," I said. 
 
 " Ah ! he confesses," exclaimed the bright little lady, 
 whose friends suspect her of writing more than one of 
 the famous American novels. 
 
 An interested and interesting group of ladies and 
 gentlemen brought their chairs closer to the conversa- 
 tional centre of the company. 
 
 "A few years ago, Irving and a friend, strolling 
 through the purlieus of Brook Green (a decayed village 
 that has been swallowed up by the progress of West 
 End London) towards Hammersmith, saw a house 
 to be sold. It was low and dilapidated, but it had 
 an old-fashioned garden, and the lease was offered at a 
 small sum. Irving knew the house, and he had a mind 
 to examine its half -ruined rooms. He did so, and con- 
 cluded his investigation by buying the lease. It cost 
 him about half the money you would pay for an ordinary 
 house off Fifth Avenue in New York; less than you 
 would pay for a house in Remsen Street, Brooklyn ; 
 in Michigan Avenue, Chicago ; or in Commonwealth 
 Avenue, Boston. Since then it has been one of his 
 
io Impressions of America. 
 
 few sources of amusement to lay out its garden, to 
 restore the old house and make it habitable. It is a 
 typical English home, with low red roofs, ancient 
 trees, oaken stairs, and a garden with old-fashioned 
 flowers and fruit in it ; but it is the home of a yeo- 
 man rather than a prince, the home of a Cincinnatus 
 rather than the palace of an Alcibiades. The staff of 
 servants consists of a gardener and his wife, and I have 
 been present at several of the owner's receptions. The 
 invitation was given in this wise : ' I am going to drive 
 to the Grange on Sunday afternoon, will you bring 
 your wife, and have a cup of tea ? ' And that described 
 the feast ; but Irving, looking at his gilliflowers and 
 tulips, watching the gambols of his dogs, and discussing 
 between whiles the relative cost of carpets and India 
 matting, illustrated the truth of the philosophy, that 
 there is real recreation and rest in a mere change of 
 occupation. Those persons who tell you that Irving' s 
 tastes are not simple, his private life an honour to him, 
 and his success the result of earnestness of purpose, 
 clearness of aim, deep study and hard work, neither 
 know him nor understand how great a battle men 
 fight in England, who cut their way upwards from 
 the ranks, to stand with the highest at head- 
 quarters." 
 
 Quite a round of applause greeted this plain story. 
 
 " Why, my dear sir/' exclaimed my original inter- 
 locutor, "I am right glad to hear the truth. "Well, 
 well, and that is Mr. Irving's real home, is it ? But I 
 thought you said he lives in chambers." 
 
 " One day he hopes to furnish and enjoy the sim- 
 plicity and quiet of that cottage in a garden, four miles 
 from his theatre ; but he still lives, where he has lived 
 for a dozen years or more, in very unpretentious rooms 
 in the heart of London." 
 
 And now, courteous reader, come straightway into 
 this little company of the friendly and the curious, and 
 I will show you where Henry Irving lived until he set 
 sail for America, a week ago, and you shall hear him 
 
At Home. ir 
 
 talk about his art and his work ; for my good friend, 
 the editor of Harper's Magazine, commissioned me to 
 describe the famous English actor at home, and here 
 is the result : 
 
 IV. 
 
 AT the corner of Grafton Street, where s the traffic 
 of a famous West End artery ebbs and flows among 
 picture exhibitions and jewellery stores, lives the most 
 popular actor of his time. It is a mysterious-looking 
 house. The basement is occupied by a trunk store. 
 From the first floor to the top are Mr. Henry Irving' s 
 chambers. They present from the outside a series of 
 dingy, half-blind windows that suggest no prospect 
 of warmth or cheer. "Fitting abode of the spirit 
 of tragic gloom ! " you might well exclaim, standing 
 on the threshold. You shall enter with me, if you 
 will, to correct your first impressions, and bear testi- 
 mony to the fact that appearances are often deceptive. 
 This sombre door, the first on the left as we enter 
 Grafton Street from Bond Street, leads to his chambers. 
 Two flights of stairs not bright, as a Paris staircase, 
 not with the sunlight upon the carpet, as in New York, 
 but darkened with the shadows of a London atmosphere 
 and we enter his general room. With the hum of the 
 West End buzzing at the windows, the coloured glass 
 of which shuts out what little sunlight falls there, the 
 apartment is characteristic of a great artist and a great 
 city. The mantelpiece recalls the ancient fashion of 
 old English mansions. It is practically an oak cabinet, 
 with a silver shield as the centre-piece. On the 
 opposite side of the room is a well-stocked book-case, 
 surmounted by a raven that carries one's thoughts to 
 Poe and his sombre story. On tables here and there 
 are materials for letter-writing, and evidence of much 
 correspondence, though one of the actor's social sins is 
 said to be the tardiness with which he answers letters. 
 The truth is, the many pressing claims on his time 
 
1 2 Impressions of A merica . 
 
 do not enable him to act always upon the late Duke 
 of Wellington's well-known principle of immediately 
 replying to every letter that is addressed to him. 
 A greater philosopher than his Grace said many 
 letters answer themselves if you let them alone, and 
 I should not wonder if Irving finds much truth in the 
 axiom. Bric-a-brac, historic relics, theatrical proper- 
 ties, articles of virtu, lie about in admired disorder. 
 Here is Edmund Kean's sword, the one which was pre- 
 sented to Irving on the first night of his Kichard III. 
 by that excellent and much-respected artist Mr. 
 Chippendale, who had acted with Edmund Kean, and 
 was his personal friend. In a glass case near this 
 precious treasure is a ring that belonged to David 
 Garrick. It is an exquisite setting of a miniature of 
 Shakespeare. This was given to Irving by the Baroness 
 Burdett-Coutts. In a cabinet near one of the win- 
 dows, the order of the George which Edmund Kean 
 wore in " Richard III.," and his prompt-book of 
 (t Othello." Close by are three marble busts, one 
 of Young, with a faded wreath upon its brow ; another 
 of Mrs. Harriet Brown, " a most dear and valued 
 friend " (to use his own words) ; and the third, of 
 Ellen Terry, sculptured by 'Irving' s friend, Brodie, 
 a portrait of Rossi (presented by the actor) as Nero ; 
 a photograph of Charles Dickens (presented by Miss 
 Mary Dickens), the one by Gurney, of New York, 
 which the great author himself thought an excellent 
 portrait ; medallions of Emile Devrient and John 
 Herschell (the latter a gift from Herschell's daughter) ; 
 and a sketch of a favourite Scotch terrier (very well 
 known to his friends as " Charlie"), which during 
 the last year or two has become his most constant 
 companion at home and at the theatre. The adjoining 
 room continues the collection of the actor's art 
 treasures, not the mere connoisseur's museum of 
 articles of virtu, but things which have a personal 
 value and a special history associated with the art 
 their owner loves. 
 
At Home. 13 
 
 It is a frank smile that greets us as the actor enters 
 and extends his long, thin hand. I know no one whose 
 hand is so suggestive of nervous energy and artistic 
 capacity as Irving's. It is in perfect harmony with the 
 long, expressive face, the notably aesthetic figure ! 
 
 " You want to talk shop/' he says, striding about 
 the room, with his hands in the pockets of his loose 
 gray coat. " Well, with all my heart, if you think it 
 useful and interesting/'' 
 
 "I do." 
 
 " May I select the subject ? " 
 
 " Yes/' 
 
 " Then I would like to go back to one we touched 
 upon at your own suggestion some months ago/' 
 
 ' ' An actor on his audiences ? " 
 
 " Yes. The subject is a good one ; it interests me, 
 and in that brief anonymous newspaper sketch of a 
 year ago you did little more than indicate the points 
 we discussed. Let us see if we cannot revive and 
 complete it." 
 
 " Agreed. I will ' interview ' you, then, as they say 
 in America." 
 
 " By all means," replied my host, handing me a 
 cigar, and settling himself down in an easy-chair by 
 the fire. " I am ready." 
 
 (< Well, then, as I think I have said before when on 
 this subject, there has always appeared to me some- 
 thing phenomenal in the mutual understanding that 
 exists between you and your audiences ; it argues an 
 active sympathy and confidence on both sides." 
 
 " That is exactly what I think exists. In presence 
 of my audience I feel as safe and contented as when 
 sitting down with an old friend." 
 
 f ' I have seen Lord Beaconsfield, when he was Mr. 
 Disraeli, rise in the House of Commons, and begin a 
 speech in a vein and manner evidently considered 
 beforehand, which, proving at the moment out of 
 harmony with the feelings of the House, he has entirely 
 altered from his original idea to suit the immediate 
 
14 Impressions of America. 
 
 mood and temper of his audience. Now, sympathetic 
 as you are with your audience, have you, under their 
 influence in the development of a new character, ever 
 altered your first idea during the course of the repre- 
 sentation ? " 
 
 " You open up an interesting train of thought," he 
 answered. " Except once, I have never altered my 
 original idea under the circumstances you suggest; 
 that was in ( Vanderdecken,' and I changed the last 
 scene. I can always tell when the audience is with 
 me. It was not with me in ' Vanderdecken ' neither 
 was it entirely on the first night of ' Hamlet,' which is, 
 perhaps, curious, considering my subsequent success. 
 On the first night I felt that the audience did not go 
 with me until the first meeting with Ophelia, when 
 they changed toward me entirely. But as night 
 succeeded night, my Hamlet grew in their estimation ; 
 I could feel it all the time, and now I know that they 
 like it that they are with me heart and soul. I will 
 tell you a curious thing about my ' Hamlet ' audience. 
 It is the most interesting audience I play to. For any 
 other piece there is a difficulty in getting the people 
 seated by half-past eight. For ' Hamlet ' the house 
 is full and quiet, and waiting for the curtain to go up, 
 by half-past seven. On the first night the curtain 
 dropped at a quarter to one/' 
 
 " In what part do you feel most at home with your 
 audience, and most certain of them ? " 
 
 " Well, in Hamlet," he replied thoughtfully. 
 
 " Has that been your greatest pecuniary success ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " What were two unprecedented runs of 'Hamlet?'" 
 
 " The first was two hundred nights ; the second, one 
 hundred and seven ; and in the country I have often 
 played it ten times out of a twelve nights' engagement. 
 But, as we have got into this line of thought about 
 audiences, it should be remembered that, with the 
 exception of two or three performances, I had never 
 played Hamlet before that first night at the Lyceum. 
 
At Home. 15 
 
 Indeed, so far as regards what is called the classic and 
 legitimate drama, my successes, such as they were, had 
 been made outside it, really in eccentric comedy. As 
 a rule, actors who have appeared for the first time in 
 London in such parts as Richard III., Macbeth, 
 Hamlet, and Othello, have played them previously for 
 years in the country ; and here comes a point about 
 my audiences. They knew this, and I am sure they 
 estimated the performance accordingly, giving me 
 their special sympathy and good wishes. I believe in 
 the justice of audiences. They are sincere and hearty 
 in their approval of what they like, and have the 
 greatest hand in making an actor's reputation. 
 Journalistic power cannot be over-valued ; it is enor- 
 mous ; but, in regard to actors, it is a remarkable fact 
 that their permanent reputations, the final and lasting 
 verdict of their merits, are made chiefly by their 
 audiences. Sometimes the true record comes after the 
 players are dead, and it is sometimes written by men 
 who possibly never saw them. Edmund Kean's may 
 be called a posthumous reputation. If you read the 
 newspapers of the time, you will find that during his 
 acting days he was terribly mauled. Garrick's im- 
 personations were not much written about in his day. 
 As to Burbage, Betterton, and other famous actors of 
 their time, whose names are familiar to us, when they 
 lived there were practically no newspapers to chronicle 
 their work." 
 
 " You believe, then, that merit eventually makes its 
 mark in spite of professional criticism, and that, like 
 Masonic rituals, the story of success, its form and 
 pressure, may go down orally to posterity ? " 
 
 " I believe that what audiences really like they 
 stand by. I believe they hand down the actor's name 
 to future generations. They are the judge and jury 
 who find the verdict and pronounce sentence. I will 
 give you an example in keeping with the rapid age in 
 which we live. I am quite certain that within twelve 
 hours of the production of a new play of any import- 
 
1 6 Impressions of America. 
 
 ance all London knows whether the piece is a success 
 or a failure, no matter whether the journals have 
 criticized it or not. Each person in the audience is 
 the centre of a little community, and the word is 
 passed on from one to the other/' 
 
 "What is your feeling in regard to first-night 
 audiences, apart from the regular play-going public ? 
 I should imagine that the sensitive nature of a true 
 artist must be considerably jarred by the knowledge 
 that a first-night audience is peculiarly fastidious and 
 sophisticated." 
 
 " I confess I am happier in presence of what you 
 call the regular play-going public. I am apt to be- 
 come depressed on a first night. Some of my friends 
 and fellow-artists are stimulated and excited by a 
 sense of opposition. I fear it lowers me. I know 
 that while there is a good, hearty crowd who have 
 come to be pleased, there are some who have not come 
 to be pleased. God help us if we were in the hands of 
 the few who, from personal or other motives, come 
 to the theatre in the hope of seeing a failure, and 
 who pour out their malice and spite in anonymous 
 letters ! " 
 
 " Detraction and malicious opposition are among 
 the penalties of success. To be on a higher platform 
 than your fellows is to be a mark for envy and slander," 
 I answered, dropping, I fear, into platitude, which my 
 host cut short with a shrug of the shoulders and a 
 rapid stride across the room. 
 
 He handed to me a book, handsomely bound and 
 with broad margins, through which ran a ripple of old- 
 faced type, evidently the work of an author and a 
 handicraftsman who love the memories both of Caxton 
 and his immediate successors. It was entitled " Notes 
 on Louis XI. ; with some short extracts from Corn- 
 mines' Memoirs," and was dated " London, 1878 
 printed for the author." 
 
 " That book/' said my host, " was sent to me by a 
 person I had then never seen or heard of. It came to 
 
At Home. 17 
 
 me anonymously I wished to have a second copy of 
 it, and sent to the printer with the purpose of obtaining 
 it. He replied by telling me the work was not for 
 sale, and referring me to the author, whose address he 
 sent to me. I made the application as requested; 
 another copy was forwarded, and with it a kind 
 intimation that if ever I should be near the house of 
 the writer, ' we should be glad to see you/ I called 
 in due course, and found the author one of a most 
 agreeable family. 'You will wonder/ they said at 
 parting, * why we wrote and compiled this book. It 
 was simply for this reason : a public critic in a leading 
 journal had said, as nothing was really known of the 
 character, manners, and habits of Louis XI., an actor 
 might take whatever liberties he pleased with the 
 subject. "We prepared this little volume to put on 
 record a refutation of the statement, a protest against 
 it, and a tribute to your impersonation of the cha- 
 racter/ Here is another present that I received soon 
 afterwards, one of the most beautiful works of its 
 kind I ever remember to have seen/' 
 
 It was an artistic casket, in which was enshrined 
 what looked like a missal bound in carved ivory and 
 gold. It proved, however, to be a beautifully bound 
 book of poetic and other memorials of Charles 
 the First, printed and illustrated by hand, with 
 exquisite head and tail pieces in water-colours, por- 
 traits, coats-of-arms, and vignettes, by Buckman, 
 Castaing, Terrel, Slie, and Phillips. The work was 
 16 imprinted for the author at London, 30th January, 
 1879," and the title ran: "To the Honour of Henry 
 Irving : to cherish the Memory of Charles the First : 
 these Thoughts, Gold of the Dead, are here devoted/' 
 As a work of art, the book is a treasure. The portraits 
 of the Charleses and several of their generals are in 
 the highest style of water-colour painting with gold 
 borders ; and the initial letters and other embellish- 
 ments are studies of the most finished and delicate 
 character. 
 
1 8 Impressions of America. 
 
 "Now these/' said their owner, returning the vo- 
 lumes to the book-shelves over which the raven 
 stretched its wings, "are only two out of scores of 
 proofs that audiences are intellectually active, and that 
 they find many ways of fixing their opinions. These 
 incidents of personal action are evidences of the spirit 
 of the whole. One night, in ' Hamlet/ something was 
 thrown upon the stage. It struck a lamp, and fell 
 into the orchestra. It could not be found for some 
 time. An inquiry was made about it by some person in 
 the front, an aged woman, who was much concerned 
 that I had not received it, so I was informed at 
 the box-office. A sad-looking woman, evidently very 
 poor, called the next day; and, being informed that 
 the trinket was found, expressed herself greatly- 
 pleased. * I often come to the gallery of the theatre/" 
 she said, f and I wanted Mr. Irving to have this family 
 heirloom. I wanted him alone in this world to possess 
 it.' This is the trinket, which I wear on my watch- 
 chain. The theatre was evidently a solace to that poor 
 soul. She had probably some sorrow in her life ; and 
 she may have felt a kind of comfort in Hamlet, or 
 myself, perhaps, possessing this little cross." 
 
 As he spoke, the actor's lithe fingers were busy at his 
 watch-chain, and he seemed to be questioning the secret 
 romance of the trinket thrown to him from the gallery. 
 
 "I don't know why else she let it fall upon the 
 stage; but strange impulses sometimes take hold of 
 people sitting at a play, especially in tragedy." 
 
 The trinket about which he speculated so much is an 
 old-fashioned gold cross. On two sides is engraved, 
 " Faith, Hope, and Charity ; " on the front, " I believe 
 in the forgiveness of sins ; " and on the reverse, " I 
 scorn to fear or change." 
 
 " They said at the box-office," went on the actor, 
 musingly, " that she was a poor mother who had lost 
 her son ; " and then rousing himself, he returned 
 brightly to the subject of our conversation. "One 
 example," he said, " of the generous sympathy of 
 
At Home. 19 
 
 audiences serves to point the moral of what I mean; 
 and in every case the motive is the same, to show an 
 earnest appreciation, and to encourage and give plea- 
 sure to the actor. At Sheffield one night, during the 
 grouse season, a man in the gallery threw a brace of 
 birds upon the stage, with a rough note of thanks and 
 compliments; and one of the pit audience sent me 
 round a knife which he had made himself. You see, 
 the people who do these things have nothing to gain ; 
 they are under no extraneous influence; they judge for 
 themselves ; and they are representative of that great 
 Public Opinion which makes or mars, and which in the 
 end is always right. When they are against you, it is 
 hard at the time to be convinced that you are wrong ; 
 but you are. Take my case. I made my first suc- 
 cess at the St. James's. We were to have opened 
 with ' Hunted Down/ We did not. I was cast for 
 Doricourt in f The Belle's Stratagem ' a part which 
 I had never played before, and which I thought did 
 not suit me. I felt that this was the opinion of the 
 audience soon after the play began. The house ap- 
 peared to be indifferent, and I believed that failure was 
 conclusively stamped upon my work, when suddenly, 
 on my exit after the mad scene, I was startled by a 
 burst of applause, and so great was the enthusiasm of 
 the audience that I was compelled to reappear on the 
 scene, a somewhat unusual thing, as you know, 
 except on the operatic stage." 
 
 " And in America/' I said, c ' where scene- calls are 
 quite usual, and quite destructive of the illusion of the 
 play, I think." 
 
 " You are right ; and, by the way, if there must be 
 calls, I like our modern method of taking a call after 
 an act on the scene itself. But to proceed. I next 
 played ' Hunted Down/ and they liked me in that ; and 
 when they do like, audiences are no niggards of their 
 confessions of pleasure. My next engagement was at 
 the Queen's Theatre, where I was successful. Then I 
 went to the Gaiety, where I played Chevenex. I fol- 
 
 c 2 
 
2O Impressions of America. 
 
 lowed at Drury Lane in ( Formosa/ and nobody noticed 
 me at all." 
 
 " Do you think you always understand the silence of 
 an audience ? I mean in this way : on a first night, for 
 example, I have sometimes gone round to speak to an 
 actor, and have been met with the remark, ' How cold 
 the audience is !' as if excessive quietness were indicative 
 of displeasure, the idea being that when an audience is 
 really pleased, it always stamps its feet and claps its 
 hands. I have seen an artist making his or her greatest 
 success with an audience that manifested its delight 
 by suppressing every attempt at applause." 
 
 " I know exactly what you mean," he answered. " I 
 recall a case in point. There was such an absence of 
 applause on the first night of ' The Two Roses/ while 
 I was on the stage, that I could not believe my friends 
 when they congratulated me on my success. But with 
 experience one gets to understand the idiosyncrasies 
 and habits of audiences. You spoke of the silence of 
 some audiences. The most wonderful quiet and silence 
 I have ever experienced as an actor, a stillness that is 
 profound, has been in those two great theatres, the 
 one that was burned down at Glasgow, and the Stan- 
 dard, in London, during the court scene of f The 
 Bells/ " 
 
 v. 
 
 GENIUS is rarely without a sense of humour. Mr. 
 Irving has a broad appreciation of fun, though his 
 own humour is subtle and deep down. This is never 
 better shown than in his Richard and Louis. It now 
 and then appears in his conversations ; and when he 
 has an anecdote to tell, he seems to develop the finer 
 and more delicate motives of the action of the nar- 
 rative, as if he were dramatizing it as he went 
 along. 
 
 We dropped our main subject of audiences pre- 
 sently to talk of other things. He related to me a 
 couple of stories of a " dresser " who was his ser- 
 
At Home. 21 
 
 vant in days gone by. The poor man is dead now, 
 and these incidents of his life will not hurt his 
 memory. 
 
 " One night/' said Irving, " when I had been play- 
 ing a new part, the old man said, while dressing me, 
 1 This is your master-piece, sir ! } How do you think 
 he had arrived at this opinion ? He had seen nothing 
 of the piece, but he noticed that I perspired more than 
 usual. The poor fellow was given over to drink at 
 last ; so I told him we must part if he did not mend 
 his ways. ( I wonder/ I said to him, ' that, for the 
 sake of your wife and children, you do not reform; 
 besides, you look so ridiculous. 3 Indeed, I never saw 
 a sillier man when he was tipsy ; and his very name 
 would set children laughing it was Doody. Well, in. 
 response to my appeal, with maudlin vanity and with 
 tears in his eyes, he answered, ' They make so much of 
 me ! ' It reminded me o Dean Ramsay's story of his 
 drunken parishioner. The parson, you remember, 
 admonished the whisky-drinking Scot, concluding his 
 lecture by offering his own conduct as an example. 
 ' I can go into the village and come home again with- 
 out getting drunk.' f Ah, minister, but I'm sae 
 popular ! ' was the fuddling parishioner's apologetic 
 reply." 
 
 A notable person in appearance, I said just now. 
 Let me sketch the famous actor as we leave his rooms 
 together. A tall, spare figure in a dark overcoat and 
 grayish trousers, black neckerchief carelessly tied, a 
 tall hat, rather broad at the brim. His hair is black 
 and bushy, with a wave in it on the verge of a curl, 
 and suggestions of gray at the temples and over the 
 ears. It is a pale, somewhat ascetic face, with bushy 
 eyebrows, dark dreamy eyes, a nose that indicates 
 gentleness rather than strength, a thin upper lip, a 
 mouth opposed to all ideas of sensuousness, but nervous 
 and sensitive, a strong jaw and chin, and a head 
 inclined to droop a little, as is often the case with men 
 of a studious habit. There is great individuality in 
 
22 Impressions of America. 
 
 the whole figure, and in the face a rare mobility which 
 photography fails to catch in all the efforts I have yet 
 seen of English artists. Though the popular idea is 
 rather to associate tragedy with the face and manner 
 of Irving, there is nothing sunnier than his smile. It 
 lights up all his countenance, and reveals his soul in his 
 eyes ; but it is like the sunshine that bursts for a 
 moment from a cloud, and disappears to leave the land- 
 scape again in shadows, flecked here and there with 
 fleeting reminiscences of the sun. 
 
 The management of the Lyceum Theatre has a 
 moral and classic atmosphere of its own. A change 
 came over the house with the success of " The Bells. " 
 t( Charles I." consummated it. You enter the theatre 
 with feelings entirely different from those which take 
 possession of you at any other house. It is as if the 
 management inspired you with a special sense of its 
 responsibility to Art, and your own obligations to sup- 
 port its earnest endeavours. Mr. Irving has intensified 
 all this by a careful personal attention to every detail 
 belonging to the conduct of his theatre. He has 
 stamped his own individuality upon it. His influence 
 is seen and felt on all hands. He has given the colour 
 of his ambition to his officers and servants. His 
 object is to perfect the art of dramatic representation, 
 and elevate the profession to which he belongs. There 
 is no commercial consideration at work when he is 
 mounting a play, though his experience is that neither 
 expense nor pains are lost on the public. 
 
 VI. 
 
 WHEN Mr. Irving's art is examined, when his 
 Hamlet or his Mathias, his Shylock or his Dei 
 Franchi, are discussed, he should be regarded from a 
 broader stand-point than that of the mere actor. He 
 is entitled to be looked at as not only the central figure 
 of the play, but as the motive power of the whole 
 entertainment the master who has set the story and 
 grouped it, the controlling genius of the moving 
 
At Home. 23 
 
 picture, the source of the inspiration of the painter, 
 the musician, the costumer, and the machinist, whoso 
 combined efforts go to the realization of the actor- 
 manager's conception and plans. It is acknowledged 
 on all hands that Mr. Irving has done more for 
 dramatic art all round than any actor of our time, and 
 it is open to serious question whether any artist of any 
 time has done as much. Not alone on the stage, but 
 in front of it, at the very entrance of his theatre, the 
 dignified influence of his management is felt. Every 
 department has for its head a man of experience and 
 tact, and every person about the place, from the 
 humblest messenger to the highest officer and actor, 
 seems to carry about with him a certain pride of 
 association with the management. 
 
 Mr. Irving's dressing-room at the theatre is a 
 thorough business-like apartment, with at the same 
 time evidences of the taste which obtains at his cham- 
 bers. It is as unpretentious, and yet, in its way, as 
 remarkable as the man. See him sitting there at the 
 dressing-table, where he is model to himself, where he 
 converts himself into the character he is sustaining. 
 His own face is his canvas, his own person, for the 
 time being, the lay figure which he adorns. It is a 
 large square table in the corner of the room. In the 
 centre is a small, old-fashioned mirror, which is prac- 
 tically the easel upon which he works ; for therein is 
 reflected the face which has to depict the passion 
 and fear of Mathias, the cupidity of Kichard, the 
 martyrdom of Charles, the grim viciousness of 
 Dubosc, the implacable justice of the avenging 
 Dei Franchi, and the touching melancholy of Ham- 
 let. 
 
 As a mere matter of "make-up," his realizations 
 of the historical pictures of Charles the First and 
 Philip of Spain are the highest kind of art. They 
 belong to Vandyck and Velasquez, not only in their 
 imitation of the great masters, but in the sort of 
 inspiration for character and colour which moved those 
 
24 Impressions of America. 
 
 famous painters. See him sitting, I say, the actor- 
 artist at his easel. A tray on the right-hand side 
 of his mirror may be called his palette; it contains 
 an assortment of colours, paint-pots, powders, and 
 brushes ; but in his hand, instead of the maul-stick, is 
 the familiar hare's-foot the actor's " best friend " 
 Tom the earliest days of rouge and burnt cork. To 
 'he left of the mirror lie letters opened and unopened, 
 missives just brought by the post, a jewel-box, and 
 various " properties " in the way of chains, lockets, or 
 buckles that belong to the part he is playing He is 
 talking to his stage-manager, or to some intimate 
 friend, as he continues his work. You can hear the 
 action of the drama that is going on a distant cheer, 
 the clash of swords, a merry laugh, or a passing 
 chorus. 
 
 The " call-boy" of the theatre looks in at in- 
 tervals to report the progress of the piece up to the 
 point where it is necessary the leading artist should 
 appear upon the stage. Then, as if he is simply going 
 to see a friend who is waiting for him, Irving leaves 
 his dressing-room, and you are alone. There is no 
 "" pulling himself together/' or "bracing up/' or 
 putting on " tragic airs " as he goes. It is a pleasant 
 " Good-night," or " I shall see you again," that takes 
 him out of his dressing-room, and you can tell when 
 he is before the audience by the loud cheers that come 
 rushing up the staircases from the stage. While he 
 is away, you look around the room. You find that the 
 few pictures which decorate the walls are theatrical 
 portraits. Here is an etching of Garrick's head-; there 
 a water-colour of Ellen Terry; here a study of 
 Macready in Yirginius ; there a study in oil of Edmund 
 Kean, by Clint, side by side with a portrait of George 
 Frederic Cooke, by Liversiege. Interspersed among 
 these things are framed play-bills of a past age and 
 interesting autograph letters. Near the dressing-table 
 is a tall looking-glass, in front of it an easy-chair, 
 over which are lying a collection of new draperies and 
 
At Home. 25 
 
 costumes recently submitted for the actor-manager's 
 approval. The room is warm with the gas that 
 illuminates it, the atmosphere delightful to the 
 fancy that finds a special fascination behind the foot- 
 lights. 
 
 VII. 
 
 A EEPLECTIVB writer, with the power to vividly 
 recall a past age and contrast it with the present, might 
 find ample inspiration in the rooms to which Mr. 
 Irving presently invites us. It is Saturday night. 
 On this last day in every acting week it is his habit to 
 sup at the theatre, and in spite of his two perform- 
 ances he finds strength enough to entertain a few 
 guests, sometimes a snug party of three, sometimes a 
 lively company of eight or ten. We descend a car- 
 peted staircase, cross the stage upon the remains of the 
 snow scene of the " Corsican Brothers," ascend a wind- 
 ing stair, pass through an armoury packed with such 
 a variety of weapons as to suggest the Tower of Lon- 
 don, and are then ushered into a spacious wainscoted 
 apartment, with a full set of polished ancient armour in 
 each corner of it, an antique fireplace with the example 
 of an old master over the mantle, a high-backed settee 
 in an alcove opposite the blind windows (the sills of 
 which are decorated with ancient bottles and jugs), and 
 in the centre of the room an old oak dining-table, fur- 
 nished for supper with white cloth, cut glass, and 
 silver, among which shine the familiar beet-root and 
 tomato. 
 
 " This was the old Beefsteak Club Room," says our 
 host ; " beyond there is the kitchen ; the members 
 dined here. The apartments were lumber-rooms until 
 lately." 
 
 Classic lumber-rooms truly ! In the history of the 
 clubs no association is more famous than the Sublime 
 Society of Beefsteaks. The late William Jerdan was 
 the first to attempt anything like a concise sketch of 
 the club, and he wrote his reminiscences thereof for me 
 
26 Impressions of America. 
 
 and The Gentleman's Magazine a dozen years ago, 
 in the popular modern days of that periodical. Jerdan 
 gave me an account of the club in the days when he 
 visited it. 
 
 " The President/' he said, " an absolute despot 
 during his reign, sat at the head of the table, 
 adorned with ribbon and badge, and with the insignia 
 of a silver gridiron on his breast ; his head, when he 
 was oracular, was crowned with a feathery hat, said to 
 have been worn by Garrick in some gay part on the 
 stage. He looked every inch a king. At the table on 
 this occasion were seated the Bishop, Samuel Arnold, 
 the patriotic originator of English opera and stre- 
 nuous encourager of native musical talent. He wore 
 a mitre, said to have belonged to Cardinal Gregorio j 
 but, be that as it might, it became him well, as he 
 set it on his head to pronounce the grace before 
 meat, which he intoned as reverently as if he had been 
 in presence of the Archbishop of Canterbury instead of 
 a bevy of Steakers. Near him was John Richards, the 
 Recorder, whose office in passing sentence on culprits 
 was discharged with piquancy and effect. Captain 
 Morris, the Laureate, occupied a distinguished seat ; so 
 also did Dick Wilson, the Secretary, a bit of a butt to 
 the jokers, who were wont to extort from him some 
 account of a Continental trip, where he prided himself 
 on having ordered a ( boulevard ' for his dinner, and 
 un paysan (for faisan) to be roasted ; and last of all 
 I can recall to mind, at the bottom of the plenteous 
 board sat the all-important f Boots,' the youngest 
 member of the august assembly. These associated as 
 a sort of staff with a score of other gentlemen, all men 
 of the world, men of intellect and intelligence, well 
 educated, and of celebrity in various lines of life 
 noblemen, lawyers, physicians and surgeons, authors, 
 artists, newspaper editors, actors, it is hardly pos- 
 sible to conceive any combination of various talent to 
 be more efficient for the object sought than the Beef- 
 steaks. 
 
At Home. 27 
 
 ' ' The accommodation for their meetings was built, 
 expressly for that end, behind the scenes of the 
 Lyceum Theatre, by Mr. Arnold ; and, among other 
 features, was a room with no daylight to intrude, 
 and this was the dining-room, with the old gridiron 
 on the ceiling, over the centre of the table. The 
 cookery on which the good cheer of the company 
 depended was carried on in what may be called the 
 kitchen, in full view of the chairman, and served 
 through the opposite wall, namely, a huge gridiron 
 with bars as wide apart as the ' chess ' of small win- 
 dows, handed hot and hot to the expectant hungerers. 
 There were choice salads (mostly of beet-root), porter, 
 and port. 
 
 "The plates were never overloaded, but small cuts 
 sufficed till almost satiated appetite perhaps called 
 for one more from the third cut in the rump itself, 
 which his Grace of Norfolk, after many slices, prized 
 as the grand essence of bullock ! " 
 
 Other times, other manners. The rooms are still 
 there. The gridiron is gone from the ceiling, but the 
 one through which sliced bullock used to be handed 
 tc hot and hot " to the nobility of blood and intellect 
 remains. It and the kitchen (now furnished with a 
 fine modern cooking-range) are shut off from the 
 dining-room, and neither porter nor port ever weighs 
 down the spirits of Mr. Irving' s guests. He sometimes 
 regales a few friends here after the play. The menu 
 on these occasions would contrast as strangely with 
 that of the old days as the guests and the subjects of 
 their conversation and mirth. It is classic ground on 
 which we tread, and the ghosts that rise before us are 
 those of Sheridan, Perry, Lord Erskine, Cam Hob- 
 house, and their boon companions. Should the 
 notabilities among Irving's friends be mentioned, the 
 list would be a fair challenge to the old Beefsteaks. I 
 do not propose to deal with these giants of yesterday 
 and to-day, but to contrast with Jordan's picture a 
 recent supper of guests gathered together on an invi- 
 

 
 2 8 Impressions of A merica. 
 
 tation of only a few hours previously. On the left side 
 of Irving sat one of his most intimate friends, a famous 
 London comedian; on the right, a well-known American 
 tragedian, who had not yet played in London ; oppo- 
 site, at the other side of the circular- ended table, sat a 
 theatrical manager from Dublin, and another of the same 
 profession from the English midlands ; the other chairs 
 were occupied by a famous traveller, an American 
 gentleman connected with literature and life insurance, v, 
 a young gentleman belonging to English political and 
 fashionable society, the editor of a Liverpool journal, a 
 provincial playwright, and a north-country philanthro- 
 pist. 
 
 The repast began with oysters, and ran through a 
 few entrees and a steak, finishing with a rare old Stilton 
 cheese. There were various salads, very dry sherry 
 and champagne, a rich Burgundy, and, after all, sodas 
 and brandies and cigars. The talk was " shop " from 
 first to last discussions of the artistic treatment of 
 certain characters by actors of the day and of a pre- 
 vious age, anecdotes of the stage, the position of the 
 drama, its purpose and mission. Every guest con- 
 tributed his quota to the general talk, the host himself 
 giving way to the humour of the hour, and chatting of 
 his career, his position, his hopes, his prospects, his 
 ambition, in the frankest way. Neither the space at 
 my disposal nor the custom of the place will permit of 
 a revelation of this social dialogue ; for the founder of 
 the feast has revived, with the restored Beefsteak 
 rooms, the motto from Horace' s " Epistles " (para- 
 phrased by the old club Bishop), which is still inscribed 
 on the dining-room wall : 
 
 Let no one bear beyond this threshold hence 
 Words utter'd here in friendly confidence. 
 
New York. 29 
 
 II. 
 NEW YOKK. 
 
 Going to meet the Britannic The Blackbird Skirmishers 
 of the American Press The London Standard's Mes- 
 sage to New York, Boston, and Chicago "Working" 
 America "Keportorial" Experiences Daylight off Staten 
 Island At Quarantine under the Stars and Stripes " God 
 Save the Queen ! " and " Hail to the Chief ! " " Received 
 and Interviewed " " Portia on a Trip from the Venetian 
 Seas " What the Reporters think, and what Irving says 
 The Necessity of Applause An Anecdote of Forrest 
 Mr. Yanderbilt and the Mirror Miss Terry and the Re- 
 porters " Tell them I never loved home so well as now " 
 Landed and Welcomed Scenes on the Quay At the 
 Brevoort. 
 
 I. 
 
 FOUR o'clock in the morning, October 21, 1883. A 
 cheerful gleam of light falls upon a group of Lotos 
 guests, as they separate at the hospitable door-way of 
 that famous New York club. Otherwise Fifth Avenue 
 is solitary and cold. The voices of the clubmen strike 
 the ear pleasantly. " Going to meet Irving/' you 
 hear some of them say, and " Good-night/' the others. 
 Presently the group breaks up, and moves off in 
 different directions. "I ordered a carriage at the 
 Brevoort House/' says one of the men who pursue 
 their way down Fifth. Avenue. They are the only 
 persons stirring in the street. The electric arcs give 
 them accompanying shadows as black as the night- 
 clouds above them. The Edison lamps exhibit the 
 tall buildings, sharp and clear, against the darkness. 
 Two guardians of a carpet-store, on the corner of 
 
30 Impressions of America. 
 
 Fourteenth Street, sleep calmly among the show bales 
 that decorate the side-walk. An empty car goes 
 jingling along into Union Square, A pair of flickering 
 lights are seen in the distance. They belong to "the 
 carriage at the Brevoort House." It will only hold 
 half our number. The civilities that belong to such a 
 situation being duly exchanged, there are some who 
 prefer to walk ; and an advance is made on foot and 
 on wheels towards the North Eiver. 
 
 For my own part I would, as a rule, rather walk 
 than ride in a private carriage in New York. The 
 street cars and the elevated railroad are comfortable 
 enough ; but a corduroy road in a forest-track is not 
 more emphatic in its demands upon the nerves of a 
 timid driver than are the pitfalls of a down-town 
 street in the Empire city. I nevertheless elect to ride. 
 We are four ; we might be any number to one who 
 should attempt to count us, so numerous does the 
 jolting of our otherwise comfortable brougham appear 
 to make us. We are tossed and pitched about as per- 
 sistently as we might be in a dinghy during a gale off 
 some stormy headland. Presently the fresh breeze of 
 the river blows upon us, as if to justify the simile ; 
 then we are thrown at each other more violently than 
 ever; a flash of gaslight greets us; the next moment 
 it is dark again, and we stop with alarming sudden- 
 ness. (( Twenty-second Street Pier," says our driver, 
 opening the door. We are received by a mysterious 
 officer, who addresses us from beneath a world of com- 
 forters and overcoats. ( ' Want the Blackbird ? " he 
 asks. We do. " This way," he says. We follow 
 him, to be ushered straightway into the presence of 
 those active scouts and skirmishers of the American 
 press the interviewers. Here they are, a veritable 
 army of them, on board Mr. Starin's well-known river 
 steamer, the Blackbird, their wits and their pencils 
 duly sharpened for their prey. Youth and age both 
 dedicate themselves to this lively branch of American 
 journalism. I tell a London friend who is here to 
 
New York. 31 
 
 " mind his eye/* or they may practise upon him, and 
 that if he refuses to satisfy their inquiries they may 
 sacrifice him to their spleen; for some of them are 
 shivering with cold, and complaining that they have 
 had no rest. Finding an English artist here from the 
 Illustrated London N&ws t I conduct him secretly to the 
 " ladies' cabin." It is occupied by a number of 
 mysterious forms, lying about in every conceivable 
 posture ; some on the floor, some on the sofas ; their 
 faces partially disguised under slouch hats, their 
 figures enveloped in cloaks and coats. They are 
 asleep. The cabin is dimly lighted, and there is an 
 odour of tobacco in the oily atmosphere. " Who are 
 they ? " asks my friend in a whisper. " Inter- 
 viewers ! " I reply, as we slip back to the stove in the 
 saloon. " What a picture Dore would have made of 
 the ladies' cabin ! " says the English artist. 
 
 ii. 
 
 WE encounter more new-comers in the saloon. Two 
 of them bring copies of the morning papers. I recog- 
 nize several of the interesting crowd, and cannot help 
 telling them something of the conversation of the 
 Beefsteak Club Eoom guest, who drew their pictures in 
 London, as a warning to the traveller whom they were 
 going to meet. I find them almost as ill-informed, and 
 quite as entertaining, concerning Irving's mannerisms, 
 as was the traveller in question touching their own 
 occupation. They talk very much in the spirit of what 
 has recently appeared here in some of the newspapers 
 about Irving and his art-methods. New York, they 
 say, will not be dictated to by London; New York 
 judges for itself. At the same time they do not think 
 it a generous thing on the part of the London Standard 
 to send a hostile editorial avant-courier to New York, 
 to prejudice the English actor's audiences and his 
 critics. 1 Nor do they think this "British malevo- 
 
 1 The following cablegram appeared in the Herald on October 
 
32 Impressions of America. 
 
 lence" will have any effect either way, though the 
 Standard practically proclaims Mr. Irving and Miss 
 Terry, as impostors. This article has been printed by 
 the press, from New York to San Francisco, while the 
 Lyceum company and its chief are on the Atlantic. 
 I have often heard it said in England that Irving had 
 been wonderfully (t worked'' in America. Men who 
 are worthy to have great and devoted friends uncon- 
 sciously make bitter enemies. Irving is honoured 
 with a few of these attendants upon fame. If the 
 people who regard his reputation as a thing that has 
 been ' f worked " could have visited New York a week 
 before his arrival, they could not have failed to be 
 delighted to see how much was being done against 
 him and how little for him. An ingenious and kostile 
 
 the 18th, and it was alluded to in the editorial columns as " a 
 hint " which " will not be lost upon the theatrical critics :" 
 
 " London, Oct. 17, 1883. 
 
 " The Standard, in an editorial this morning, thus appeals 
 to America for a dispassionate judgment of Henry Irving : 
 
 " American audiences have a favourable opportunity of show- 
 ing that they can think for themselves, and do not slavishly 
 echo the criticisms of the English press. We confess that, 
 though one has read many eulogistic notices of Mr. Irving, and 
 listened in private to opinions of different complexions, it is 
 difficult to find anything written respecting him that deserves 
 to be dignified with the description of serious criticisms. Can- 
 not New York, Boston, and Chicago supply us with a little of 
 this material ? Are we indulging vain imaginings if we hope 
 that our cousins across the water will forget all that has been 
 said or written about Irving and the Lyceum company this 
 side of the ocean, and will go to see him in his chief perform- 
 ances with unprejudiced eyes and ears, and send us, at any 
 rate, a true, independent, unconventional account of his gifts 
 and graces, or the reverse P " 
 
 " Most Englishmen naturally will be gratified if the people 
 of the United States find Irving as tragic, and Miss Terry as 
 charming, as so many people in this country consider them. 
 But the gratification will be increased, should it be made 
 apparent that a similar conclusion has been arrived at by the 
 exercise of independent judgment, and if in pronouncing it 
 fresh light is thrown upon the disputed points of theatrical 
 controversy." 
 
New York. 33 
 
 pamphleteer was in evidence in every bookseller's 
 window. Villainous cheap photographs of " actor and 
 manager " were hawked in the streets. Copies of an 
 untruthful sketch of his career, printed by a London 
 weekly, were circulated through the mails. The 
 Standard's strange appeal to New York, Boston, and 
 Chicago was cabled to the Herald, and republished in 
 the evening papers. Ticket speculators had bought 
 up all the best seats at the Star Theatre, where the 
 English actor was to appear, and refused to sell them 
 to the public except at exorbitant and, for many play- 
 goers, prohibitive rates. So far as " working " went, 
 the London enemies of the Lyceum manager were so 
 actively represented in New York that his friends in 
 the Empire city must have felt a trifle chilled at the 
 outlook. The operations of the ticket speculators, it 
 must, however, be admitted, seemed to project in 
 Irving's path the most formidable of all the other 
 obstacles. 
 
 in. 
 
 BUT Irving's ship is sailing on through the darkness 
 while I have been making this t( aside,"" and the 
 Blackbird is in motion; for I hear the swish of the 
 river, and the lights on shore are dancing by the port- 
 holes. Mr. Abbey's fine military band, from the 
 Metropolitan Opera House, has come on board ; so 
 also has a band of waiters from the Brunswick. 
 Breakfast is being spread in the saloon. The brigands 
 from the ladies' cabin have laid aside their slouch hats 
 and cloaks. They look as harmless and as amiable as 
 any company of English journalists. Night, and dark- 
 lanterns might convert the mildest-mannered crowd 
 into the appearance of a pirate crew. 
 
 I wish the Irving guest of my first chapter could see 
 and talk to these interviewers. I learn that they 
 represent journals at Boston, Philadelphia, Chicago, 
 St. Louis, and other cities besides New York. One 
 of them has interviewed Lord Coleridge ; another was 
 
3 4 Impressions of A merica. 
 
 with Grant during the war ; a third was with Lee. 
 They have all had interesting experiences. One is an 
 Englishman; another hails from "bonnie Scotland." 
 There is no suggestion of rowdyism among them. I 
 owe them an apology on the "excuse accuse" 
 principle, for saying these things; but the "inter- 
 viewer" is not understood in England; he is often 
 abused in America, and I should like to do him 
 justice. These gentlemen of the press, who are going 
 out to meet Irving, are reporters. Socially they occupy 
 the lowest station of journalism, though their work is 
 of primary importance. Intellectually they are capable 
 men, and the best of them write graphically and with 
 an artistic sense of the picturesque. They should, and 
 no doubt do, develop into accomplished and powerful 
 journalists ; for theirs is the best of education. They 
 study mankind ; they come in contact with the most 
 prominent of American statesmen ; they talk with all 
 great foreigners who visit the United States ; they are 
 admitted into close intercourse with the leading spirits 
 of the age ; they have chatted on familiar terms with 
 Lincoln, Sheridan, Grant, Garfield, Huxley, Coleridge, 
 Arnold, Patti, Bernhardt, Nilsson, and they will 
 presently have added to the long list of their personal 
 acquaintances Irving and Miss Terry. They are 
 travellers, and, of necessity, observers. Their press- 
 card is a talisman that opens to them all doors of 
 current knowledge ; and I am bound to say that these 
 men on board the Blackbird are, in conversation 
 and manners, quite worthy of the trust reposed in 
 them by the several great journals which they 
 represent. 
 
 IV. 
 
 " BEITANNIC ahead ! " shouts a voice from the gang- 
 way. We clamber on deck. It is daylight. The air 
 is still keen. The wooded shores of Staten Island are 
 brown with the last tints of autumn. Up the wide 
 reaches of the river, an arm of the great sea, come all 
 
New York. 35 
 
 kinds of r,raft : some beating along under sail ; others, 
 floating palaces, propelled by steam. These latter are 
 ferry-boats and passenger steamers. You have seen 
 them in many a marine picture and panorama of 
 American travel. The Blackbird is typical of the 
 rest, double decks, broad saloons, tiers of berths, 
 ladies' 7 cabins, and every ceiling packed with life-buoys 
 in case of accident. We push along through the 
 choppy water, our steam- whistle screaming hoarse 
 announcements of our course. The Britannic lies 
 calmly at quarantine, the stars and stripes at her 
 topmast, the British flag at her stern. She is an 
 impressive picture, her masts reaching up into the 
 gray sky, every rope taut, her outlines sharp and firm. 
 In the distance other ocean steamers glide towards us, 
 attended by busy tugs and handsome launches. One 
 tries to compare the scene with the Mersey and the 
 Thames, and the only likeness is in the ocean steamers, 
 which have come thence across the seas. For the rest, 
 the scene is essentially American, the broad river, 
 the gay wooden villas ashore, the brown hills, the 
 bright steam-craft on the river, the fast rig of the 
 trading schooners, and above all the stars and 
 stripes of the many flags that flutter in the breeze, 
 and the triumphant eagles that extend their golden 
 wings over the lofty steerage turrets of tug and floating 
 palace. 
 
 Now we are alongside the Britannic. As our 
 engines stop, the band of thirty Italians on our deck 
 strikes up " God save the Queen/' One or two 
 British hands instinctively raise one or two British hats, 
 and many a heart, I am sure, on board the Britannic 
 beats the quicker under the influence of the familiar 
 strains. A few emigrants, with unkempt hair, on 
 the after-deck, gaze open-mouthed at the Blacltbird. 
 Several early risers appear forward and greet with 
 waving hands the welcoming crowd from New York. 
 One has time to note the weather-beaten colour of the 
 Britannic's funnels. 
 
 D 2 
 
36 Impressions of America. 
 
 :< What sort of a passage ? " cries a voice, shouting 
 in competition with the wind, that is blowing hard 
 through the rigging. 
 
 " Pretty rough/' is the answer. 
 
 "Where is Mr. Irving?" cries out another Blackbird 
 passenger. 
 
 " In bed," is the response. 
 
 " Oh ! " says the interrogator, amidst a general laugh. 
 
 " Beg pardon, no," presently shouts the man on. the 
 Britannic, " he's shaving." 
 
 Another laugh, drowned by a salute of some neigh- 
 bouring guns. At this moment a boat is lowered 
 from the splendid yacht Yosemite, which has been 
 steaming round about the Britannic for some time. 
 It is Mr. Tilden's vessel. He has lent it to Mr. 
 Lawrence Barrett. He has come out, with Mr. Wil- 
 liam Florence, to meet Irving and Miss Terry, intend- 
 ing to carry them free from worry or pressure to 
 their several hotels. The two well- known actors are 
 in the yacht's pinnace, and some of us wonder if they 
 are good sailors. The waves, which do not stir the 
 Britannic, and only gently move the Blackbird, fairly 
 toss the Yosemite's boat ; but the occupants appear to 
 be quite at home in her. She disappears around the 
 Britannic' s bows to make the port side for boarding, 
 and as she does so Mr. Irving suddenly appears be- 
 tween the gangway and the ship's boats, on a level with 
 the deck of the Blackbird, about midships. " There 
 he is ! " shout a score of voices. He looks pale in the 
 cold, raw light; but he smiles pleasantly, and takes 
 off a felt bowler hat as the Blackbird gives him a cheer 
 of welcome. 
 
 (f Won't you come here ? The quarantine authorities 
 object to our visiting the ship until the doctor has 
 left her." 
 
 A plank is thrust from our paddle-box, Irving climbs 
 the Britannic's bulwark, and grasps a hand held out 
 to steady him as he clambers aboard the Blackbird, 
 right in the midst of the interviewers. Shaking hands 
 
New York. 37 
 
 with his manager, Mr. Abbey, and others, he is intro- 
 duced to some of tbe press-men, who scan his face 
 and figure with undisguised interest. By this time 
 Messrs. Barrett and Florence appear on the Britannic. 
 They have got safely out of their boat, and have a 
 breezy and contented expression in their eyes. Irving 
 now recrosses the temporary gangway, and is fairly 
 embraced by his two American friends. The band 
 strikes up, " Hail to the Chief! " Then the gentlemen 
 of the press are invited to join Mr. Irving on board 
 the Yosemite. They are arrested by what one of them 
 promptly designates " a vision of pre-Kaphaelitish 
 beauty." It is Miss Ellen Terry. 2 Every hat goes off 
 as she comes gaily through the throng. " Portia, on 
 a trip from the Venetian seas ! " exclaims an enthu- 
 siastic young journalist, endeavouring to cap the 
 aesthetic compliment of his neighbour. Escorted by 
 Mr. Barrett, and introduced by Mr. Irving, she is 
 deeply moved, as well she may be, by the novel scene. 
 Britannic passengers crowd about her to say good-bye ; 
 the band is playing " Rule, Britannia ;" many a gay 
 river boat and steamer is navigating the dancing 
 waters ; the sun is shining, flags fluttering, and a score 
 of hands are held out to help Portia down the gangway 
 on board the Yosemite, which is as trim and bright 
 and sturdy in its way as a British gun-boat. While 
 
 2 The Tribune's reporter drew Miss Terry's picture with 
 studied elaboration : 
 
 " As she stepped with a pretty little shudder over the sway- 
 ing plank upon the yacht she showed herself possessed of a 
 marked individuality. Her dress consisted of a dark greenish- 
 brown cloth wrap, lined inside with a peculiar shade of red ; the 
 inner dress, girt at the waist with a red, loosely-folded sash, 
 seemed a reminiscence of some eighteenth-century portrait, while 
 the delicate complexion caught a rosy reflection from the loose 
 flame-coloured red scarf tied in a bow at the neck. The face 
 itself is a peculiar one. Though not by ordinary canons beauti- 
 ful, it is nevertheless one to be remembered, and seems to have 
 been modelled on that of some pre-Raphaelitish saint, an effect 
 heightened by the aureole of soft golden hair escaping from 
 under the plain brown straw and brown velvet hat." 
 
38 Impressions of America. 
 
 the heroine of the trip is taking her seat on deck, and 
 kissing her hand to the Britannic, the Tosemite drives 
 ahead of the ocean steamer. Mr. Irving goes down 
 into the spacious cabin, which is crowded with the 
 gentlemen against whose sharp and inquisitive interro- 
 gations he has been so persistently warned. 
 
 v. 
 
 " WELL, gentlemen, you want to talk to me ? " he 
 says, lighting a cigar, and offering his case to his 
 nearest neighbours. 
 
 The reporters look at him and smile. They have 
 had a brief consultation as to which of them shall open 
 the business, but without coming to any definite 
 arrangement. Irving, scanning the kindly faces, is no 
 doubt smiling inwardly at the picture which his Lon- 
 don friend had drawn of the interviewers. He is the 
 least embarrassed of the company. Nobody seems 
 inclined to talk ; yet every movement of Irving invites 
 interrogatory attack. 
 
 "A little, champagne, gentlemen," suggests Mr 
 Florence, pushing his way before the ship's steward 
 and waiters. 
 
 ' ' And chicken," says Irving, smiling ; " that is how 
 we do it in London, they say." 
 
 This point is lost, however, upon the reporters, a 
 few of whom sip their champagne, but not with any- 
 thing like fervour. They have been waiting many 
 hours to interview Irving, and they want to do it. I 
 fancy they are afraid of each other. 
 
 " Now, gentlemen," says Irving, " time flies, and I 
 have a dread of you. I have looked forward to this 
 meeting, not without pleasure, but with much appre- 
 hension. Don't ask me how I like America at present. 
 I shall, I am sure ; and I think the bay superb. 
 There, I place myself at your mercy. Don't spare 
 me." 
 
 Everybody laughs. Barrett and Florence look on 
 curiously. Bram Stoker, Mr. Irving' s acting manager, 
 
New York. 39 
 
 cannot disguise his anxiety. Loveday, his stage- 
 manager and old friend, is amused. He has heard 
 many curious things about America from his brother 
 George, who accompanied the famous English come- 
 dian, Mr. J. L. Toole (one of Irving's oldest, and 
 perhaps his most intimate, friend), on his American 
 tour. Neither Loveday nor Stoker has ever crossed 
 the Atlantic before. They have talked of it, and 
 pictured themselves steaming up the North Kiver into 
 New York many a time; but they find their forecast 
 utterly unlike the original. 
 
 " What about his mannerisms ? " says one reporter 
 to another. " I notice nothing strange, nothing outre 
 either in his speech or walk." 
 
 " He seems perfectly natural to me/ 7 the other re- 
 plies ; and it is this first "revelation" that has 
 evidently tongue-tied tbe " reportorial " company. 
 They have read so much about the so-called eccentri- 
 cities of the English visitor's personality that they 
 cannot overcome their surprise at finding themselves 
 addressed by a gentleman whose grace of manner 
 reminds them rather of the polished ease of Lord 
 Coleridge than of the bizarre figure with which 
 caricature, pictorially and otherwise, has familiarized 
 them. 
 
 " We are all very glad to see you, sir, and to wel- 
 come you to New York," says one of the interviewers, 
 presently. 
 
 fc Thank you, with all my heart," says Irving. 
 
 " And we would like to ask you a few questions, and 
 to have you talk about your plans in this country. 
 You open in ' The Bells/ that was one of your first 
 great successes ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You will produce your plays here just in the 
 same way as in London ? " chimes in a second inter- 
 viewer. 
 
 te With the same effects, and, as far as possible, 
 with the same cast ? " 
 
4O Impressions of America. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And what are your particular effects, for instance, 
 in ( The Bells ' and f Louis XL/ say, as regards mount- 
 ing and lighting ? " 
 
 "Well, gentlemen/' answers Irving, laying aside 
 his cigar and folding his arms, " I will explain. In 
 the first place, in visiting America, I determined I 
 would endeavour to do justice to myself, to the theatre, 
 and to you. I was told I might come alone as a star, 
 or I might come with a few members of my company, 
 and that I would be sure to make money. That did 
 not represent any part of my desire in visiting 
 America. The pleasure of seeing the New World, the 
 ambition to win its favour and its friendship, and to 
 show it some of the work we do at the Lyceum, these 
 are my reasons for being here. I have, therefore, 
 brought my company and my scenery. Miss Ellen 
 Terry, one of the most perfect and charming actresses 
 that ever graced the English stage, consented to share 
 our fortunes in this great enterprise ; so I bring you 
 almost literally the Lyceum Theatre." 
 
 " How many artists, sir ? " 
 
 " Oh, counting the entire company and staff, some- 
 where between sixty and seventy, I suppose. Fifty 
 of them have already arrived here in the City of 
 Rome." 
 
 " In what order do you produce your pieces 
 here?" 
 
 " ' The Bells/ ' Charles/ ' The Lyons Mail/ < The 
 Merchant of Venice,' we do first." 
 
 " Have you any particular reason for the sequence 
 of them?" 
 
 {l My idea is to produce my Lyceum successes in 
 their order, as they were done in London ; I thought 
 it would be interesting to show the series one after the 
 other in that way." 
 
 " When do you play ' Hamlet ' ? " 
 
 " On my return to New York in the spring." 
 
 " Any special reason for that ? " 
 
New York. 41 
 
 "A managerial one. We propose to keep one or 
 two novelties for our second visit. Probably we shall 
 reserve ( Much Ado ' as well as ( Hamlet/ Moreover, 
 a month is too short a time for us to get through our 
 repertoire." 
 
 " In which part do you think you most excel ? " 
 
 " Which do you like most of all your range of 
 characters ? " 
 
 t{ What is your opinion of Mr. Booth as an 
 actor ? " 
 
 These questions come from different parts of the 
 crowd. It reminds me of the scene between an English 
 parliamentary candidate and a caucus constituency, 
 with the exception that the American questioners are 
 quite friendly and respectful, their chief desire evidently 
 being to give Mr. Irving texts upon which he can 
 speak with interest to their readers. 
 
 " Mr. Booth and I are warm friends. It is not 
 necessary to tell you that he is a great actor. I acted 
 with him many subordinate parts when he first came 
 to England, about twenty years ago." 
 
 " What do you think is his finest impersonation ? " 
 
 " I would say ' Lear/ though I believe the American 
 verdict would be ' Kichelieu/ Singularly enough 
 ' Eichelieu ' is not a popular play in England. Mr. 
 Booth's mad scene in ' Lear/ I am told, is superb. I 
 did not see it ; but I can speak of Othello and lago : 
 both are fine performances." 
 
 " You played in ' Othello ' with Mr. Booth in London, 
 you say ? " 
 
 " I produced ' Othello ' especially for Mr. Booth, and 
 played lago for the first time on that occasion. We 
 afterwards alternated the parts." 
 
 " Shakespeare is popular in England, more so now 
 than for some years past, I believe ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " What has been the motive-power in this revival ? " 
 
 " England has to-day many Shakespearian societies, 
 and our countrymen read the poet much more than 
 
42 Impressions of America. 
 
 they did five-and- twenty years ago. As a rule our 
 fathers obtained their knowledge of him from the 
 theatre, and were often, of course, greatly misled as to 
 the meaning and intention of the poet, under the 
 manipulation of Colley Gibber and others." 
 
 (( Which of Shakespeare's plays is most popular in 
 England?" 
 
 " ' Hamlet/ And, singularly, the next one is not 
 f Julius Cassar/ which is the most popular after 
 { Hamlet/ I believe, in your country. ' Othello ' 
 might possibly rank second with us, if it were not 
 difficult to get two equally good actors for the two 
 leading parts. Salvini's Othello, for instance, suffered 
 because the lago was weak." 
 
 " You don't play ' Julius Caesar/ then, in England ?" 
 
 f{ No. There is a difficulty in filling worthily the 
 three leading parts." 
 
 By this time Mr. Irving is on the most comfortable 
 and familiar terms with the gentlemen of the press. 
 He has laid aside his cigar, and smiles often with a 
 curious and amused expression of face. 
 
 " You must find this kind of work, this interviewing, 
 very difficult," he says, presently, in a tone of friendly 
 banter. 
 
 " Sometimes," answers one of them ; and they all 
 laugh, entering into the spirit of the obvious fun of a 
 victim who is not suffering half as much as he expected 
 to do, and who indeed is, on the whole, very well 
 satisfied with himself. 
 
 " Don't you think we might go on deck now and see 
 the harbour ? " he asks. 
 
 ' ' Oh, yes," they all say ; and in a few minutes the 
 Yosemite 8 pretty saloon is vacated. 
 
 Irving and his friends go forward; Miss Terry is 
 aft, in charge of Mr. Barrett. She is looking intently 
 down the river at the far-off Britannic, which is 
 now beginning to move forward in our wake, the 
 Yosemite leaving behind her a long, white track of 
 foam. 
 
New York. 43 
 
 The interviewers are again busily engaged with 
 Mr. Irving. He is once more the centre of an in- 
 terested group of men. Not one of them takes a note. 
 They seem to be putting all he says down in their 
 minds. They are accustomed to tax their memories. 
 One catches, in the expression of their faces, evidence 
 of something like an inter-vision. They seem to be 
 ticking off, in their minds, the points as the speaker 
 makes them ; for Irving now appears to be talking as 
 much for his own amusement as for the public instruc- 
 tion. He finds that he has a quick, intelligent, and 
 attentive audience, and the absence of note-books and 
 anything like a show of machinery for recording his 
 words puts him thoroughly at his ease. Then he likes 
 to talk " shop/' as who does not ? And what is more 
 delightful to hear than experts on their own work ? 
 
 " Do your American audiences applaud much ? " he 
 asks. 
 
 "Yes," they said; " oh, yes." 
 
 "Because, you know, your Edwin Forrest once 
 stopped in the middle of a scene and addressed his 
 audience on the subject of their silence. ' You must 
 applaud/ he said, ' or I cannot act/ I quite sympa- 
 thize with that feeling. An actor needs applause. It 
 is his life and soul when he is on the stage. The 
 enthusiasm of the audience reacts upon him. He gives 
 them back heat for heat. If they are cordial, he is 
 encouraged ; if they are excited, so is he j as they re- 
 spond to his efforts he tightens his grip upon their 
 imagination and emotions. You have no pit in your 
 American theatres, as we have ; that is, your stalls, or 
 parquet, cover the entire floor. It is to the quick 
 feelings and heartiness of the pit and gallery that an 
 actor looks for encouragement during his great scenes 
 in England. Our stalls are appreciative, but not 
 demonstrative. Our pit and gallery are both/' 
 
 Irving, when particularly moved, likes to tramp 
 about. Whenever the situation allows it, he does so 
 upon the stage. Probably recalling the way in which 
 
44 Impressions of America. 
 
 pit and gallery rose at him and stalls and dress circle, 
 too, for that matter on his farewell night at the 
 Lyceum, he paces about the deck, all the interviewers 
 making rapid mental note of his gait, and watching 
 for some startling peculiarity that does not manifest 
 itself. 
 
 " He has not got it ; why, the man is as natural and 
 as straight and capable as a man can be/' says one to 
 another. 
 
 " And a real good fellow/' is the response. " Ask 
 him about Yanderbilt and the mirror/' 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Irving ! just one more question." 
 
 " As many as you like, my friend," is the ready reply. 
 
 " Is it true that you are to be the guest of Mr. 
 Yanderbilt ? " 
 
 l( And be surrounded with ingeniously-constructed 
 mirrors, where I can see myself always, and all at 
 once. I have heard strange, stories about Mr. 
 Vanderbilt having had a wonderful mirror of this kind 
 constructed for my use, so that I may pose before it in 
 all my loveliest attitudes. Something of the kind has 
 been said, eh ? " he asks, laughing. 
 
 " Oh, yes, that is so/' is the mirthful response. 
 
 " Then you may contradict it, if you will. You may 
 say that I am here for work ; that I shall have no time 
 to be any one's guest, though I hope the day may come 
 when I shall have leisure to visit my friends. You may 
 add, if you will " (here he lowered his voice with a 
 little air of mystery), " that I always carry a mirror of 
 my own about with me wherever I go, because I love 
 to pose and contemplate my lovely figure whenever 
 the opportunity offers." 
 
 " That will do, I guess," says a gentleman of the 
 interviewing staff ; " thank you, Mr. Irving, for your 
 courtesy and information." 
 
 " I am obliged to you very much," he says, and 
 then, having his attention directed to the first view of 
 New York, expresses his wonder and delight at the 
 scene, as well he may. 
 
New York. 45 
 
 Ahead the towers and spires of New York stand out 
 in a picturesque outline against the sky. On either 
 hand the water-line is fringed with the spars of ships 
 and steamers. On the left stretches far away the low- 
 lying shores of New Jersey ; on the right, Brooklyn 
 can be seen, rising upwards, a broken line of roofs and 
 steeples. Further away, joining " the city of churches " 
 to Manhattan, hangs in mid-air that marvel of science, 
 the triple carriage, foot, and rail road known as the 
 Brooklyn Bridge. Around the Yosemite, as she 
 ploughs along towards her quay, throng many busy 
 steamers, outstripping, in the race for port, fleets of 
 sailing vessels that are beating up the broad reaches of 
 the river before the autumn wind. 
 
 / 
 VI. 
 
 " SHE is not quite pretty," says a New York reporter, 
 turning to me during his contemplation of Miss Terry, 
 who is very picturesque, as she sits by the tafirail at 
 the stern ; " but she is handsome, and she is distin- 
 guished. I think we would like to ask her a few 
 questions ; will you introduce us ? " 
 
 I do the honours of this presentation. Miss Terry is 
 too much under the influence of the wonderful scene 
 that meets her gaze to receive the reporters with 
 calmness. 
 
 " And this is New York ! " she exclaims. " What a 
 surprising place ! And, oh, what a river ! So different 
 to the Thames ! And to think that I am in New 
 York ! It does not seem possible. I cannot realize it." 
 
 " If you had a message to send home to your friends, 
 Miss Terry, what would it be ? " asks Reporter No. \, 
 a more than usually bashful young man. 
 
 The question is a trifle unfortunate. 
 
 f ( Tell them I never loved home so well as now," 
 she answers in her frank, impulsive way. 
 
 She turns her head away to hide her tears, and 
 Reporter No. 2 remonstrates with his companion. 
 
 "I wouldn't have said it for anything," says No. 1. 
 
46 Impressions of America. 
 
 " I was thinking how I would add a few words for 
 her to my London cable, that's a fact." 
 
 " It is very foolish of me, pray excuse me/' says 
 the lady ; " it is all so new and strange. I know my 
 eyes are red, and this is not the sort of face to go into 
 New York with, is it ? " 
 
 ff l think New York will be quite satisfied, Miss 
 Terry, " says a third reporter; "but don't let us 
 distress you." 
 
 " Oh, no, I am quite myself now. You want to ask 
 me some questions ? ". 
 
 " Not if you object." 
 
 " I don't object ; only you see one has been looking 
 forward to this day a long time, and seeing land again 
 and houses, and so many ships, and New York itself, 
 may well excite a stranger." 
 
 "Yes, indeed, that is so," remarks No. 1, upon 
 whom she turns quickly, the " Liberty " scarf at 
 her neck flying in the wind, and her earnest eyes 
 flashing. 
 
 " Have you ever felt what it is to be a stranger just 
 entering a strange land ? If not, you can hardly 
 realize my sensations. Not that I have any fears 
 about my reception. No, it is not that ; the Ameri- 
 cans on the ship were so kind to me, and you are so 
 very considerate, that I am sure everybody ashore 
 will be friendly." 
 
 ' ' Do you know Miss Anderson ? " 
 
 " Yes. She is a beautiful woman. I have not seen 
 her upon the stage ; but I have met her." 
 
 " Do you consider ' Charles I/ will present you to a 
 New York audience in one of your best characters ?" 
 
 " No ; and I am not very fond of the part of 
 Henrietta Maria either." 
 
 " What are your favourite characters ? " 
 
 " Oh, I hardly know," she says, now fairly interested 
 in the conversation, and turning easily towards her 
 questioners for the first time. "I love nearly all I 
 play ; but I don't like to cry, and I cannot help it in 
 
New York. 47 
 
 1 Cliarles I/ I like comedy best, Portia, Beatrice, 
 and Letitia Hardy." 
 
 "Do you intend to star on your own account?-" 
 
 "No, no." 
 
 " You prefer to cast your fortunes with the Lyceum 
 company ? " 
 
 "Yes, certainly. Sufficient for the day is the 
 Lyceum thereof. There is no chance of my ever 
 desiring to change. I am devoted to the Lyceum, and 
 to Mr. Irving. No one admires him more than I do ; 
 no one knows better, I think, how much he has done 
 for our art ; no one dreams of how much more he will 
 yet do if he is spared. I used to think, when I was 
 with Charles Kean, I served my apprenticeship, you 
 know, with Mr. and Mrs. Charles Kean, that his 
 performances and mounting of plays were perfect in 
 their way. But look at Mr. Irving's work ; look at 
 what he has done and what he does. I am sure you 
 will be delighted with him. Excuse me, is that the 
 Britannic yonder, following in our wake ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 She kisses her hand to the vessel, and then turns to 
 wonder at the city, which seems to be coming towards 
 us, so steadily does the Yosemite glide along, hardly 
 suggesting motion. 
 
 Then suddenly the word is passed that the Yosemite 
 is about to land her passengers. A few minutes later 
 she slips alongside the wharf at the foot of Canal 
 Street. The reporters take their leave, raising their 
 hats to Miss Terry, many of them shaking hands 
 with Mr. Irving. Carriages are in waiting for Mr. 
 Barrett and his party. A small crowd, learning who 
 the new-comers were, give them a cheer of welcome, 
 and Henry Irving and Ellen Terry stand upon 
 American soil. 
 
 <c I am told," says Mr. Irving, as we drive away, 
 " that when Jumbo arrived in New York he put out 
 his foot and felt if the ground was solid enough to 
 bear his weight. The New Yorkers, I believe, were 
 
48 Impressions of America. 
 
 very much amused at that. They have a keen sense 
 of fun. Where are we going- now ? " 
 
 " To the Customs, at the White Star Wharf, to sign 
 your declaration papers," says Mr. Florence. 
 
 " How many packages have you in your state-room, 
 madame?" asks a sturdy official, addressing Miss 
 Terry. 
 
 '' Well, really I don't know ; three or four, I think." 
 
 " Not more than that ? " suggests Mr. Barrett. 
 
 (f Perhaps five or six." 
 
 " Not any more ? " asked the official. < ' Shall I say 
 five or six ? " 
 
 "Well, really, I cannot say. Where's my maid? 
 Is it important, the exact number ? " 
 
 There is a touch of bewilderment in her manner 
 which amuses the officials, and everybody laughs she 
 herself very heartily when her maid says there are 
 fourteen packages of various kinds in the state-room 
 of the Britannic, which is now discharging her 
 passengers. A scene of bustle and excitement is 
 developing just as we are permitted to depart. A 
 famous politician is on board. There is a procession, 
 with a band of music, to meet him. Crowds of poor 
 people are pushing forward for the Britannic gang- 
 way, to meet a crowd of still poorer emigrant friends. 
 Imposing equipages are here to carry off the rich and 
 prosperous travellers. Tons of portmanteaus, trunks, 
 boxes, baggage of every kind, are sliding from the 
 vessel's side upon the quay. Friends are greeting 
 friends. Children are being hugged by fathers and 
 mothers. Ships' stewards are hurrying to and fro. 
 The express man, jingling his brass checks, is looking 
 for business ; his carts are fighting their way among 
 the attendant carriages and more ponderous waggons. 
 A line of Custom-house men form in line, a living 
 cord of blue and silver, across the roadway exit of the 
 wharf. There is a smell of tar and coffee and baked 
 peanuts in the atmosphere, together with the sound 
 of many voices ; and the bustle repeats itself outside 
 
New York. 49 
 
 in the rattle of arriving and departing carts and 
 carriages. Above all one hears the pleasant music 
 of distant car- bells. We dash along, over level 
 crossings, past very continental-looking river-side 
 cabarets and rum-shops, under elevated railroads, and 
 up streets that recall Holland, France, Brighton, and 
 Liverpool, until we reach Washington Square. The 
 dead leaves of autumn are beginning to hide the fading 
 grass ; but the sun is shining gloriously away up in a 
 blue sky. Irving is impressed with the beauty of 
 the city as we enter Fifth Avenue, its many spires 
 marking the long line of street as far as the eye can 
 see. The Brevoort House has proved a welcome, if 
 expensive, haven of rest to many a weary traveller. 
 To-day its bright windows and green sun-blinds, ita 
 white marble steps, and its wholesome aspect of home- 
 like comfort suggest the pleasantest possibilities. 
 
 Let us leave the latest of its guests to his first 
 experiences of the most hotel-keeping nation in the 
 world. 
 
50 Impressions of America. 
 
 III. 
 FIEST IMPRESSIONS. 
 
 Union Square, New York An enterprising Chronicler The 
 Lambs The Newspapers and the New-comers " Art 
 must advance with the Times " " Romeo and Juliet " at 
 the Lyceum " Character Parts " No real Tradition of 
 Shakespearian Acting " Mannerisms " The Stage as an 
 Educator Lafayette Place A notable little Dinner 
 The great American Bird, "Not the Eagle, but the Duck" 
 A Question of "Appropriate Music" Speculators in 
 Tickets and their enormous Profits Middlemen, the Star 
 Theatre, and the play -going Public. 
 
 " IT is not like my original idea of it, so far," said 
 Irving the next morning, " tins city of New York. 
 The hotel, the Fifth Avenue, the people, everything 
 is a little different from one's anticipations; and yet it 
 seems to me that I have seen it all before. It is Lon- 
 don and Paris combined. I have been round to call 
 on Miss Terry. She is at what she calls ' The Hotel 
 ahem ! ' the Hotel Dam, in Union Square. Dam is 
 the proprietor. It is a handsome house. A fine 
 square. The buildings are very tall. The cars, run- 
 ning along the streets, their many bells, the curious, 
 wire-drawn look of the wheels of private carriages, 
 all a little odd. Fifth Avenue is splendid ! And 
 what a glorious sky ! " 
 
 He rattled on, amused and interested, as he stood in 
 the back room of his suite of three on the ground floor 
 at the Brevoort. 
 
 " Several interviewers in there/' he said, pointing to 
 the folding-doors that shut us out from the other 
 
First Impressions. 5 1 
 
 apartment. " One reporter wanted to attend regularly 
 and chronicle all I did, where I went to, and how ; 
 what I ate, and when ; he wished to have a record of 
 everybody who called, what they said, and what I said 
 to them." 
 
 " An enterprising chronicler ; probably a ' liner,' as 
 we should call him on the other side, a liner un- 
 attached." 
 
 " He was very civil. I thanked him, and made him 
 understand that I am modest, and do not like so much 
 attention as he suggests. But these other gentlemen, 
 let us see them together." 
 
 It was very interesting to hear Irving talk to his 
 visitors, one after the other, about his art and his 
 work. I had never seen him in such good conversa- 
 tional form before. So far from resisting his in- 
 terrogators, he enjoyed their questions, and, at the 
 same time, often puzzled them with his answers. Some 
 of his visitors came with minds free and unprejudiced 
 to receive his impressions, with pens ready to record 
 them. Others had evidently read up for the interview; 
 they had turned over the pages of Hazlitt, Lamb, and 
 Shakespeare with a purpose. Others had clearly 
 studied the ingenious pamphlet of Mr. Archer; these 
 had odd questions to ask, and were amazed at the 
 quickness of Irving' s repartee. As a rule they reported 
 the new-comer correctly. The mistakes they made 
 were trivial, though some of them might have seemed 
 important in prejudiced eyes. I propose, presently, 
 to give an example of this journalistic work. 
 
 After dinner Irving went to a quiet little recep- 
 tion at the house of a friend, and at night he visited 
 the Lambs Club. The members are principally actors, 
 and Sunday night is their only holiday. Once a month 
 they dine together. On this night they held their first 
 meeting of the season. The rooms were crowded. 
 Irving was welcomed with three cheers. Mr. William 
 Florence, Mr. Raymond, Mr. Henry Edwards, Mr. 
 Howson, and other well-known actors introduced him 
 
 E 2 
 
52 Impressions of America. 
 
 to their brother members, and a committee was at 
 once formed to arrange a date when the club could 
 honour itself and its guest with a special dinner. 
 
 " It is very delightful to be so cordially received/' 
 said Irving, " by my brother actors. I shall be proud 
 to accept your hospitality on any evening that is con- 
 venient to you. It must be on a Sunday, of course. 
 I am told New York is strict in its observance of 
 Sunday. Well, I am glad of it it is the actor's only 
 day of rest." 
 
 n. 
 
 ON Monday morning the newspapers, from one end 
 of the United States to the other, chronicled the arrival 
 of Mr. Irving and Miss Terry. The New York journals 
 rivalled each other in columns of bright, descriptive 
 matter, with headings in more than customary detail. 
 The Herald commenced its announcement in this 
 way : 
 
 IEVING TEEEY. 
 
 Arrival of the Famous English Actor and the Leading 
 Lady of the Lyceum. 
 
 A Hearty Welcome Down the Bay by Old Friends. 
 
 AN INTEEVIEW WITH ME. IEVING. 
 His Views on the Drama and Stage of To-day. 
 
 PLANS FOE THE FUTURE. 
 
 The Sun greeted its readers with, 
 
 UP EAELY TO MEET IEVING ! 
 
 A BUSINESS-LIKE HAMLET AND A JOLLY 
 OPHELIA AEEIVE. 
 
First Impressions. 5 3 
 
 What the Famous English Actor Looks Like and How He 
 
 Talks A Stentorian G-reeting Down at 
 
 Quarantine before Breakfast. 
 
 The morning Journal (the latest success in cheap 
 newspaper enterprise) proclaimed : 
 
 ENGLAND'S GEEAT ACTOE. 
 
 Henry Irving Cordially Welcomed in the Lower Bay. 
 
 He Tells of His Hopes and Fears, and Expresses Delight 
 
 over Dreaded Newspaper Interviewers 
 
 Miss Terry Joyful. 
 
 A leading Western journal pays a large salary to a 
 clever member of its staff, whose duty is confined to 
 the work of giving to the varied news of the day 
 attractive titles. The New York press is less exuberant 
 in this direction than formerly. 
 
 The sketches of the arrival of the Britannic's 
 passengers are bright and personal. They describe 
 the appearance of Mr. Irving and Miss Terry. The 
 vivacity of Miss Terry charmed the reporters. The 
 quiet dignity of Irving surprised and impressed them. 
 The " interviews " generally referred to Mr. Irving' s 
 trip across the Atlantic, his programme for New York, 
 his hopes of a successful tour, his ideas of the dif- 
 ferences between American and English theatres, what 
 he thought of Booth, and other points which I have 
 myself set forth, perhaps more in detail than was 
 possible for the journals, and, what is more important, 
 from the platform of an interested English spectator. 
 The following conversation is, in the main, a revised 
 edition of an interview that appeared in the Herald. 
 
 " And now to speak to you of yourself as an actor, 
 and also of your theatre, let me ask you, to what 
 mainly do you attribute your success ? " 
 
 " The success I have made, such as it is, has been 
 
54 Impressions of America. 
 
 made by acting by acting alone, whether good or 
 bad." l 
 
 " There is a notion in America, Mr. Irving, that 
 your extraordinary success is due to your mise en scene 
 and the research you have given to the proper mount- 
 ing of your pieces/' 
 
 " Indeed, is that so? And yet ' The Cup' and 
 ' Romeo and Juliet ' were the only two pieces I have 
 done in which the mise en scene has been really 
 remarkable. During my early association with the 
 Lyceum nothing of that kind was attempted. For 
 instance, the churchyard scene in ' Hamlet ; was a 
 scene painted for ' Eugene Aram/ as the then manager 
 of the Lyceum (my old friend, Mr. Bateman) did 
 not believe in the success of ' Hamlet.' The run of 
 
 1 These simple facts prove that, aside from his acting, with 
 which it is not our duty to deal at present, Mr. Irving is one of 
 the most remarkable men of this or any other age. But he is 
 unquestionably right when he asserts that he owes his success 
 to his acting alone. It has been said that the splendid manner 
 in which he puts his plays upon the stage is the secret of his 
 popularity; but he first became popular in plays which were 
 not splendidly mounted, and his greatest financial and artistic 
 successes have been made in pieces upon which he expended no 
 unusual decorations. It has been said that Manager Bateman 
 made Irving ; but, as we shall presently prove, Irving made 
 Manager Bateman in London, and has been doubly successful 
 since Manager Bateman's death. It has been said that his 
 leading lady, Ellen Terry, is the Mascot of Irving's career ; but 
 his fame was established before Miss Terry joined his company, 
 and he has won his proudest laurels in the plays in which Miss 
 Terry has not appeared. It has been said that the financial 
 backing of the Baroness Burdett-Coutts gave Irving his oppor- 
 tunity ; but he had been overcrowding the London Lyceum for 
 years before he made the acquaintance of the Baroness. No ; 
 the unprecedented and unrivalled success of Mr. Irving has 
 been made by himself alone. He became popular as an actor 
 in a stock company ; his popularity transformed him into a star 
 and a manager ; and, as a star and a manager, he has widened, 
 deepened, and improved his popularity. He has won his position 
 fairly, by his own talents and exertions, against overwhelming 
 odds, and he has nobody to thank for it but himself, in spite of 
 the theories which we have exploded. Spirit of the Times, New 
 York, Oct. 27, 1883. 
 
First Impressions. 55 
 
 the play was two hundred nights. I have been asso- 
 ciated with the Lyceum since 1871, eleven years, and, 
 until the production of ' The Corsican Brothers ' and 
 'The Cup/ in 1880-81, no play in which I acted 
 had ever been elaborately mounted. Before the time 
 of these plays I had acted in ' The Bells/ ' Charles I./ 
 ' Eugene Aram/ ' Philip/ ' Richelieu/ ' Hamlet/ ' Mac- 
 beth/ 'Louis XL/ 'Othello/ ' Kichard III./ 'The 
 Merchant of Venice/ 'The Iron Chest/ and others; 
 and this, I think, is sufficient answer to the statement 
 that my success has, in any way, depended upon the 
 mounting of plays. When I played ' Hamlet/ under 
 my own management, which commenced in December, 
 1878, I produced it with great care; and many things, 
 in the way of costume and decoration, which had been 
 before neglected, I endeavoured to amend. But take, 
 for instance, ' The Merchant of Venice/ it was put 
 upon the stage in twenty-three days." 
 
 " It will be impossible for managers to go back to 
 the bad system of mounting formerly in vogue, will it 
 not ? " 
 
 "I think so. Indeed, it is impossible for the stage 
 to go back to what it was in any sense. Art must 
 advance with the times, and with the advance of other 
 arts there must necessarily be an advance of art as 
 applied to the stage. In arranging the scenery for 
 ' Eomeo and Juliet ' I had in view not only the pro- 
 ducing of a beautiful picture, but the illustration of 
 the text. Every scene I have done adds to the poetry 
 of the play. It is not done for the sake of effect 
 merely, but to add to the glamour of the love story. 
 That was my intention, and I think that result was 
 attained. I believe everything in a play that heightens 
 and assists the imagination, and in no way hampers or 
 restrains it, is good, and ought to be made use of. I 
 think you should, in every respect, give the best you 
 can. For instance, Edwin Booth and I acted together 
 in ' Othello/ He alone would have drawn a great 
 public ; yet I took as much pains with it as any play I 
 
56 Impressions of America. 
 
 ever put upon the stage. I took comparatively as 
 much pains with the ' Two Eoses ' and the ' Captain of 
 the Watch ' as with ' Romeo and Juliet.' But there is 
 no other play in Shakespeare that seems to me to so 
 much require a pictorial setting as ' Komeo and Juliet/ 
 You could not present plays nowadays as they formerly 
 did, any more than you could treat them generally as 
 they were treated. " 
 
 " How did you come to identify yourself so much 
 with the revival of Shakespearian acting ? " 
 
 " I will try to tell you briefly what I have done since 
 I have been before the London public. Much against 
 the wish of my friends, I took an engagement at the 
 Lyceum, then under the management of Mr. Bateman. 
 I had successfully acted in many plays besides the 
 'Two Koses/ which ran three hundred nights. It 
 was thought by everybody interested in such matters 
 that I ought to identify myself with what they 
 called ' character parts ; ' though what that phrase 
 means, by the way, I never could exactly understand, 
 for I have a prejudice in the belief that every part 
 should be a character. I always wanted to play in the 
 higher drama. Even in my boyhood my desire had 
 been in that direction. When at the Vaudeville 
 Theatre I recited the drama of ' Eugene Aram/ simply 
 to get an idea as to whether 1 could impress an 
 audience with a tragic theme. I hoped I could, and at 
 once made up my mind to prepare myself to play 
 characters of another type. When Mr. Bateman 
 engaged me, he told me he would give me an oppor- 
 tunity, if he could, to play various parts, as it was to 
 his interest as much as to mine to discover what he 
 thought would be successful though, of course, 
 never dreaming of ' Hamlet ' or ' Bichard III/ Well, 
 the Lyceum opened, but did not succeed. Mr. Bateman 
 had lost a lot of money, and he intended giving it up. 
 He proposed to me to go to America with him. By 
 my advice, and against his wish, ' The Bells ' was 
 rehearsed, but he did not believe in it much. He 
 
First Impressions. 5 7 
 
 thought there was a prejudice against the management, 
 and that there would probably be a prejudice against 
 that sort of romantic play. It produced a very poor 
 house, although a most enthusiastic one. From 
 that time the theatre prospered. The next piece 
 was a great difficulty. It was thought that what- 
 ever part I played it must be a villain, associated 
 with crime in some way or other; because I had 
 been identified with such sort of characters, it was 
 thought my forte lay in that direction. I should 
 tell you that I had associated histrionically with 
 all sorts of bad characters, housebreakers, blacklegs, 
 assassins. When f Charles I.' was announced, it was 
 said that the bad side of the king's character should 
 be the one portrayed, not the good, because it would 
 be ridiculous to expect me to exhibit any pathos, or to 
 give the domestic and loving side of its character. After 
 the first night the audience thought differently. Fol- 
 lowing f Charles I/ ' Eugene Aram ' was, by Mr. 
 Bateman's desire, produced. In this we have a 
 character much like that of Mathias, but with a 
 pathetic side to it. Then Mr. Bateman wished me to 
 play ' Richelieu/ I had no desire to do that, but he 
 continued to persuade, and to please him I did it. It 
 ran for a long time with great success. What I did 
 play, by my own desire, and against his belief in its 
 success, was ' Hamlet ;' for you must know that at 
 that time there was a motto among managers, 
 ' Shakespeare spells bankruptcy/ " 
 
 " What is your method in preparing to put a play on 
 the stage ? say one of Shakespeare's, would you be 
 guided by the tradition of Shakespearian acting ? " 
 
 " There is no tradition of Shakespearian acting ; nor 
 is there anything written down as to the proper way of 
 acting Shakespeare. We have the memoirs and the 
 biographies of great actors, and we know something 
 of their methods ; but it does not amount to a tradition 
 or to a school of Shakespearian acting. For instance, 
 what is known on the stage of Shakespeare's tradition 
 
58 Impressions of America. 
 
 of Richard ? Nothing. The stage tradition is Colley 
 Gibber, ' Off with his head so much for Bucking- 
 ham ! ' is, perhaps, the most familiar line of his text. 
 We have had some men who have taken this or that 
 great actor as their exemplar ; they have copied him 
 as nearly as they could. Actors, to be true, should, I 
 think, act for themselves." 
 
 " You would advise an actor, then, to go to the book 
 and study the play out for himself, and not take this or 
 that character by rote ? " 
 
 " Certainly; take the book, and work the play out to 
 the best of your intelligence. I believe my great safe- 
 guard has been that I have always tried to work out a 
 character myself. As a boy I never would see a play 
 until I had studied it first/' 
 
 " That would be an answer to the strictures which 
 have been made on you, that you have not kept to the 
 old acting versions, but have made versions for your- 
 self?" 
 
 ' ' True ; and why should I not, if I keep, as I do, to 
 Shakespeare ? For many actors Shakespeare was not 
 good enough. A picture which hangs in my rooms 
 affords an instance in point. It represents Mr. Holman 
 and Miss B run ton in the characters of Romeo and 
 Juliet, and gives a quotation from the last scene of 
 Act V". Juliet says, ' You fright me. Speak ; oh, 
 let me hear some voice beside my own in this drear 
 vault of death; or I shall faint. Support me/ Romeo 
 replies, ' Oh ! I cannot. I have no strength, but 
 want thy feeble aid. Cruel poison ! y Not one word 
 of which, as you know, is Shakespeare's." 
 
 " You referred just now to the necessity of an actor 
 acting ' from himself/ in other words, not sinking his 
 own individuality in the part he is trying to repre- 
 sent, would it not be an answer to those who charge 
 you with mannerisms on the stage? Is it not true, 
 in short, that the more strongly individual a man is, 
 the more pronounced his so-called mannerisms will 
 be?" 
 
First Impressions. 59 
 
 " Have we not all mannerisms ? I never yet saw a 
 human being worth considering without them/' 
 
 f ' I believe you object to spectators being present at 
 your rehearsals. What are your reasons for that 
 course ? " 
 
 " There are several, each of which would be a valid 
 objection." 
 
 " For instance ? " 
 
 " Well, first of all, it is not fair to author, manager, 
 or actor, as the impression given at an incomplete per- 
 formance cannot be a correct one/' 
 
 " But surely by a trained intellect due allowance can 
 be made for shortcomings ? " 
 
 " For shortcomings, yes ; but a trained intellect 
 cannot see the full value of an effort, perhaps jarred or 
 spoiled through some mechanical defect ; or if the 
 trained intellect knows all about it, why needs it to be 
 present at all ? Now, it seems to me that one must 
 have a reason for being present, either business or 
 curiosity ; and business cannot be properly done, while 
 curiosity can wait." 
 
 " Another reason ? " 
 
 " It is unjust to the artists. A play to be complete 
 must, in all its details, finally pass through one imagina- 
 tion. There must be some one intellect to organize 
 and control ; and in order that this may be effected, it 
 is necessary to experimentalize. Many a thing may be 
 shown at rehearsal which is omitted in representa- 
 tion. If this be seen, and not explained, a false 
 impression is created. A loyal company and staff help 
 much to realize in detail and effect the purpose of the 
 manager ; but still, all are but individual men and 
 women, and no one likes to be corrected or advised 
 before strangers." 
 
 " As to the alleged dearth of good modern English 
 plays, what do you think is the cause of their non- 
 production ? " 
 
 " I deny the dearth, except so far as there is always 
 a dearth of the good things of the world. I hold that 
 
60 Impressions of America. 
 
 there are good English plays. I could name you 
 many." 
 
 " What are your opinions of the stage as an educa- 
 tional medium ? I ask the question, because there is a 
 large class of people, both intelligent and cultured, 
 who still look upon the stage and stage plays, even if 
 not downright immoral, as not conducive to any 
 intellectual or moral good." 
 
 " My dear sir, I must refer you to history for an 
 answer to that problem. It cannot be solved on the 
 narrow basis of one craft or calling. Such ideas are 
 due to ignorance. Why, in England, three hundred 
 years ago, in Shakespeare's time, in the years when 
 he, more than any other human being in all that great 
 age of venture and development, of search and research, 
 was doing much to make the era famous, actors were 
 but servants, and the stage was only tolerated by court 
 licence. A century later, in London city, actors were 
 pilloried and the calling deemed vagrancy j while in 
 France a Christian burial was denied to Moliere's 
 corpse. The study of social history and development 
 teaches a lesson in which you may read your answer. 
 When bigotry and superstition fade and toleration 
 triumphs, then the work of which the stage is capable 
 will be fairly judged, and there will be no bar to 
 encounter. The lesson of toleration is not for the 
 player alone ; the preacher must learn it." 
 
 in. 
 
 THE first week in New York was, in a great measure, 
 spent between the theatre and the hotel. Invitations 
 to dinner and receptions were, as a rule, declined. 
 The exceptions were breakfasts given by Mr. Vanderbilt 
 and Judge Shea. Many distinguished persons called. 
 All kinds of polite attentions were offered, some of 
 which, it is to be feared, Irving had not time or 
 opportunity to acknowledge as he could have wished. 
 One gentleman placed his carriage at Mr. Irving's 
 disposal ; another offered to lend him his house ; another 
 
First Impressions* 6 1 
 
 his steam launch. These courtesies were tendered 
 gracefully and without ostentation. Flowers were 
 sent regularly from unknown hands to the Hotel 
 Dam. Miss Terry went driving with friends in the 
 park, and found the trotting-track a fascinating scene. 
 Within forty-eight hours Irving was a familiar figure 
 in the lower part of Fifth Avenue and Union Square, 
 as he walked to and from the theatre. He and Miss 
 Terry made their first acquaintance at Delmonico's in 
 company with myself and wife. An elegant little 
 dinner, of which the ice creams were its most successful 
 feature. Artistic in construction, they were triumphs 
 of delicate colour. I think they were the chefs tributes 
 to Miss Terry's supposed aesthetic taste. No wonder 
 the Delmonicos made millions of dollars, when it is 
 possible that the chief reminiscence of a dinner may be 
 associated with the ice creams and sweets. On Tuesday, 
 after a rehearsal and a drive down town on a pouring 
 wet day, I piloted the new-comer to Sieghortner's, in 
 Lafayette Place. This well-known cafe occupies the 
 house in which the Astors lived. It is a building 
 characteristic of the early days of New York's first 
 millionaires, marble steps, heavy mahogany doors, 
 rich Moorish decorations, spacious hall-ways. Close by 
 is the Astor Library, a valuable institution, and the 
 street itself has quite an Old- World look. It was once 
 the most fashionable quarter of New York ; but wealth 
 has moved towards the park, and left Lafayette PJace 
 to restaurants, boarding-houses, public-baths, and 
 stores. Sieghortner himself is a typical Dutchman, a 
 veritable Knickerbocker of hotel-keepers, and a gour- 
 met. He is almost the only " landlord " (as we should 
 call him at home) in New York who will condescend 
 to wait upon his guests. It is a pleasure to look upon 
 his beaming face when you order a dinner and leave 
 menu and wines to his judgment. As he stands by 
 your chair, directing his attendants, he is radiant with 
 satisfaction if you are pleased, and would no doubt be 
 plunged into despair if you were dissatisfied. Shrews- 
 
62 Impressions of America. 
 
 bury oysters, gumbo soup, cutlets, canvas-back ducks, 
 a souffle, Stilton cheese, an ice, a liqueur, a dish of 
 fruit, and a bottle of hock that filled the room with 
 its delicious perfume. 
 
 (( It was perfection, Mr. Sieghortner," said Irving, as 
 he sipped his coffee, and addressed the old man, " the 
 canvas-back superb. You are so interested in the art 
 of dining that you will appreciate a little experience of 
 mine in connection with the great American bird, I 
 don't mean the eagle, but the duck." 
 
 Sieghortner rubbed his hands, and said, " Oh, yes, 
 why, of course ! " 
 
 " An old American friend of mine, dead now, 
 alas ! when he was in his prime, as they say, 
 frequently had numbers of canvas-back ducks sent 
 to London from New York. On the first great occasion 
 of this kind he invited thirty guests to eat thirty ducks. 
 He spent a day or two instructing the chef of a well- 
 known club how to cook them. The kitchen was to 
 be well heated, you know, and the ducks carried gently 
 through." 
 
 " Oh, yes, that's the way," said Sieghortner, rubbing 
 his hands. 
 
 " Well, the night came. His guests were in full 
 force. The ducks were served. They had a whity- 
 brown and flabby appearance. Bateman cut one 
 and put it aside. He tried another, and in his rage 
 flung it under the table. The dinner was an utter 
 failure." 
 
 (f Dear ! dear ! " exclaimed Sieghortner. 
 
 "My friend did not forget it for months. He was 
 continually saying, ' I wonder how that fool spoiled 
 our ducks ; I have tried to find out, but it is a mystery/ 
 Nearly a year afterwards I heard of the chefs sudden 
 death. Meeting my friend, I said, ' Have you heard of 
 poor So-and-so, the chef at the club ? he is dead ! ' 
 ' I am very glad of it ! ; he exclaimed. ' Do you know, 
 he cooked those ducks over the gas ! ' 
 
 " Dear ! dear ! " exclaimed Sieghortner, a quick 
 
First Impressions. 63 
 
 expression of anger on his face, ff why, he ought to 
 have been hanged ! " 
 
 IV. 
 
 IT is customary in American theatres for the orchestra 
 to play the audience out as well as in. 
 
 " We will dispense with that/' said Irving to his 
 conductor, Mr. Ball. 
 
 "It is a general habit here/' remarked the Star 
 manager. 
 
 "Yes, I understand so/' Irving replied; "but it 
 seems to me a difficult .matter to select the music 
 appropriately to the piece. What sort of music do 
 you usually play ? " 
 
 "A march." 
 
 " Ah, well, you see our plays are so different, that a 
 march which would do one night would be entirely 
 out of place the next. Have you the score of ' The 
 Dead March in Saul?'" 
 
 " No," was the conductor's reply. 
 
 "Well, then, I think we will finish as we do in 
 London, with the fall of the curtain. If we make a 
 failure on Monday night, the most appropriate thing 
 you could play would be ' The Dead March.' As you 
 have no score of it, we will do without the exit 
 music." 
 
 " And who knows," said Irving, as we walked back 
 to the hotel, " whether we shall have a success or not ? 
 The wild manner in which the speculators in tickets 
 are going on is enough to ruin anything. 2 They have 
 
 2 Speculation in theatre tickets seems now to have reached 
 its height. Folks thought it had come to a lively pass when 
 Sarah Bernhardt was here, and some $23,000 worth of seats 
 were disposed of for her engagement on the opening day of the 
 sale. But, bless you, that was a mere drop in the bucket. A 
 man named McBride, who has from keeping a small news-stand 
 gradually come forward until he is now one of the richest of the 
 ticket speculators, "got left," as he picturesquely observed, on 
 the Bernhardt affair. In other words, rival speculators got all 
 the best seats. So McBride put twelve men on duty in front 
 
64 Impressions of America. 
 
 bought up every good seat in the house, I am told, 
 and will only part with them at almost prohibitive 
 prices. The play-goers may resent their operations 
 and keep away ; if they pay ten and twenty dollars 
 for a seat, instead of two and a half or three, they 
 cannot be expected to come to the house in a con- 
 
 of the Star Theatre box-office three days before the Irving sales 
 were to open, and there they stayed on duty day and night 
 until the window was finally thrown open. Each one of these 
 men got ten season tickets for the Irving engagement, which is 
 to last four weeks. In other words, every one of these men 
 bought 280 tickets of admission to the Star Theatre, so that 
 McBride now holds for the Irving season a neat little pile of 
 3360 tickets. They were bought at season ticket prices of 
 $60 per set of twenty-eight, and therefore cost the speculator 
 the sum of $7200. Now you will see how the speculator hap- 
 pens to have the bulge on the Irving management. The box- 
 office price of a ticket for a single performance is $3, and even 
 if the demand should not happen to be as immense as to war- 
 rant a long advance on the box-office tariff, McBride can sell 
 his tickets at the regular price of $3 apiece, and get the sum of 
 $10,080 for them, which will leave him a profit of nearly $3000 
 upon his short investment. There is, however, little or no like- 
 lihood that he will be obliged to resort to this manner of doing 
 business. For the first night he has already sold seats for $10 
 and $15 each, and it is quite reasonable to suppose that as the 
 time approaches, and tickets become scarce, he can advance to 
 a still higher price. These ticket speculators have regular cus- 
 tomers, who willingly pay them the ordinary price they ask 
 rather than bother about going to the box-office. When Anna 
 Dickinson wants to visit a theatre in New York, she invariably 
 buys her tickets of Tyson, who charges her $2 for a $1.50 seat. 
 So it is with a good many other people, particularly the rich 
 and reckless down-town brokers, who purchase their tickets 
 during the day, and who, rather than take the trouble to send 
 a messenger away up to the theatre they intend to visit, go to 
 the speculator's branch office and pay the advance demanded 
 for whatever they want. There are only a few regular ticket 
 speculators in New York. Old Fred Rullman, a Dutchman, 
 was for a long time the chief operator in theatre tickets, but he 
 seldom appears nowadays in any of the big deals. He works 
 mostly in opera tickets, and is contented not to take heavy 
 risks. McBride is the longest chance-taker of the lot. Tyson 
 is not a risky buyer, but confines his purchases pretty closely 
 to the demands of his regular customers. New York Cor- 
 respondent of St. Louis Spectator. 
 
First Impressions. 65 
 
 tented frame of mind. The more money they have 
 been plundered of, the more exacting they will be in 
 regard to the actors ; it is only natural they should. 
 Then we have no pit proper, and the lowest admission 
 price to the gallery is a dollar. I would have pre- 
 ferred to play to Lyceum prices ; but in that case they 
 say I should only have been putting so much more 
 into the pockets of the speculators. These operators 
 in tickets are protected by the law ; managers are 
 obliged to sell to them, and the dealers have a right to 
 hawk them on the pavement at the entrance of the 
 theatres." 
 
 " This is 1 a State or city law, only applying to New 
 York. I don't think it exists anywhere else in the 
 Union. It certainly does not at Philadelphia and 
 Boston." 
 
 " It is an outrage on the public," he replied. " Legiti- 
 mate agencies for the convenience of the public, with 
 a profit of ten or twenty per cent, to the vendor, is 
 one thing ; but exacting from the public five and ten 
 dollars for a two and a half dollar seat is another. 
 After all, a community, however rich, have only a 
 certain amount of money to spend on amusements. 
 Therefore the special attractions and the speculators 
 get the lion's share, and the general or regular amuse- 
 ments of the place have to be content with short 
 mons." 
 
 If the Sun reporter could hear you, he would con- 
 gratulate himself on having called you ' a business-like 
 Hamlet/" 
 
66 Impressions of America. 
 
 IV. 
 
 AT THE LOTOS CLUB. 
 
 The Savage Club of America Thackeray and Lord Honghton 
 A great Banquet Mr. Whitelaw Reid on Irving and 
 the Actor's Calling " Welcome to a country where he 
 may find not unworthy bi*ethren" An Answer to the 
 "Warnings of the English Traveller of Chapter I." Shake- 
 speare's Charles the First " A Night of Wit and Humour 
 The Knighting of Sullivan The Delineator of Romance 
 visiting the Home of America's Creator of Romance 
 After-dinner Stories Conspiring against the Peace of a 
 harmless Scotchman A pleasant Jest. 
 
 THE Lotos Club is the Savage of America, as the 
 Century is its Garrick ; each, however, with a dif- 
 f&rence. The Lotos admits to membership gentlemen 
 who are not necessarily journalists, authors, actors, 
 and painters, earning their subsistence out of the 
 arts. They must be clubable and good fellows in the 
 estimation of the committee, and herein lies their best 
 qualification. This combination of the arts proper 
 with trade and finance has made the club a success in 
 the broadest sense of the term. Their home is a 
 palace, compared with that of the Savage in London. 
 The general atmosphere of the Century is more akin 
 to that of the Garrick, and it is a far closer corporation 
 than the Lotos. Mr. Thackeray spent a good deal of 
 his time there when he was in New York; while Lord 
 Houghton, it is said, preferred the more jovial fireside 
 of the Lotos. In those days the younger club was in 
 humbler, but not less comfortable, quarters than those 
 
At the Lotos Club. 67 
 
 it now occupies ; while the Century, conservative and 
 conscious of its more aristocratic record, is well con- 
 tent with the house which is associated with many 
 years of pleasant memories. 
 
 The Lotos honoured Irving with a banquet; the 
 Century welcomed him at one of its famous 'monthly 
 reunions. The Lotos dinner was the first public recog- 
 nition, outside the press, of Irving in America. He 
 had accepted its invitation before sailing for New York, 
 and sat down with the Lotos-eaters on the Saturday 
 (October 27) prior to his Monday night's appearance 
 at the Star Theatre. The club-rooms had never been 
 so crowded as on this occasion. Dishes were laid for 
 a hundred and forty members and guests in the dining- 
 room and salon of the club, and fifty others consented 
 to eat together in the restaurant and reading-room 
 upstairs, and fifty or sixty others had to be content to 
 come in after dinner. Mr. Irving sat on the right 
 hand of the President of the club, Mr. Whitelaw 
 Reid, editor of the Tribune. At the same table 
 were Chauncey M. Depew, Dr. A. E. Macdonald, 
 General Horace Porter, E. Randolph Robinson, 
 Algernon S. Sullivan, R. B. Roosevelt, Thomas W. 
 Knox, H. H. Gorringe, W. H. Smith, Rev. Robert 
 Laird Collier, and F. R. Lawrence. Among others 
 present were Lawrence Barrett, Joseph Jefferson, 
 William J. Florence, R. W. Gilder, Dr. Fordyce 
 Barker, D. G. Croly, General Winslow, and A. Oakey 
 Hall. In a window alcove behind the President's chair 
 stood an easel, holding a large portrait of Irving as 
 Shylock. 
 
 Coffee being served, Mr. Irving was conducted up- 
 stairs to be introduced to the diners in his honour who 
 were crowded out of the lower rooms. They received 
 him with a loud cheer, and then accompanied him to 
 join the other guests. The company broke up into 
 groups, stood about the door-ways, and thronged 
 around the President, who thereupon arose and ad- 
 dressed them as follows : 
 
 p 2 
 
68 Impressions of America. 
 
 " You must excuse the difficulty in procuring seats. 
 You know the venerable story which Oscar Wilde ap- 
 propriated about the sign over the piano in a far- 
 western concert-hall: 'Don't shoot the performer; 
 he's doing the best he can.' (Laughter.) The com- 
 mittee beg me to repeat in their behalf that touching 
 old appeal. They've done the best they could. There 
 are five hundred members of this club, and only one 
 hundred and forty seats in this dining-room; they 
 have done their utmost to put the five hundred men 
 into the one hundred and forty seats. Don't shoot. 
 They'll come down, apologize, retreat, resign do 
 anything to please you. They've thoroughly tried 
 this thing of putting two men in one seat and per- 
 suading the other three that standing-room is just as 
 good; and to-night, as the perspiration rolls from 
 their troubled brows, their fervent hope and prayer is 
 that the manager for your distinguished guest may 
 be haunted by that self-same trouble all through his 
 American tour ! (Applause and laughter.) 
 
 ' { London appropriated our national anniversary, to 
 do honour to its favourite actor as he was about to 
 visit us. On that occasion, on the Fourth of July last, 
 at a banquet without a parallel in the history of the 
 British stage, and to which there are actually none to 
 be compared, save the far less significant, but still 
 famous, entertainments to Kean and Macready, at 
 that banquet your guest said, ' This God-speed would 
 alone insure me a hearty welcome in any land. But I 
 am not going among strangers. I am going among 
 friends.' (Applause.) 
 
 " Let us take him at his word. Once we were apt 
 to get our opinions from the other side. If that 
 grows less and less a habit now, with the spread 
 among us, since we attained our national majority, of 
 a way of doing our own thinking, we are still all the 
 more glad to welcome friendships from the other side. 
 " We know our friendly guest as the man whom 
 a great, kindred nation has agreed to accept as its 
 
At the Lotos Club. 69 
 
 foremost living dramatic representative. We know 
 that his success has tended to elevate and purify the 
 stage, to dignify the actor's calling, to widen and 
 better its influence. We know the scholarship he has 
 brought to the representation of the great dramatists, 
 the minute and comprehensive attention he has given 
 to every detail, alike of his own acting and of the 
 general management. His countrymen do not say 
 that if he were not the foremost actor in England he 
 would be the first manager ; they declare that he is 
 already both. (Applause.) 
 
 ' ' We bid him the heartiest of welcomes to a country 
 where he may find not unworthy brethren. Our 
 greeting indeed takes a tone of special cordiality not 
 so much from what we know of his foreign repute, or 
 from our remembering the great assemblage of repre- 
 sentative countrymen gathered to give him their fare- 
 well and God-speed. It comes even more from our 
 knowing him as the friend of Edwin Booth (applause), 
 and Joseph Jefferson (applause), and Lawrence Bar- 
 rett (applause), and John McCullough (applause), 
 and William Florence (applause). And if anything 
 else were needed to make the grasp of every man's 
 hand in this club yet warmer, it is furnished when 
 we remember that his conspicuous friend among 
 English actors is our friend, John Toole. (Applause.) 
 
 " It would not be fair to our distinguished but un- 
 suspicious guest, adventuring into these foreign parts, 
 if, before sitting down, I did not warn him that all 
 this, and much more which he is likely to hear, is said 
 around the dinner-table. Let him not think that he 
 wholly knows us, and is fairly naturalized, until he has 
 read the papers the morning after his first perform- 
 ance. What they may contain no living man knoweth 
 (laughter) ; but others have sometimes groaned that 
 we treat our guests with too much attention ; that we 
 accord them, in fact, the same distinguished honour 
 we give our national bird the turkey, which we 
 first feed and afterwards carve up. (Great laughter.) 
 
70 Impressions of America. 
 
 "But the prologue is an antiquated device, now 
 pretty well banished from the stage, because it merely 
 detains you from what you came to hear. I will detain 
 you no longer. I give you, gentlemen, Our Guest, 
 
 ' trumpet set for Shakespeare's lips to blow.' 
 
 " Health to Henry Irving, and a hearty welcome ! " 
 (Great applause.) 
 
 ii. 
 
 THE toast was drunk with ringing cheers, and in its 
 report of the reply the Tribune says, "Mr. Irving 
 spoke in measured tones, and with a singularly clear 
 and effective enunciation, his frequent ironical sallies 
 being received with bursts of laughter and applause." 
 He said : 
 
 "Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen, It is not in my 
 power to thank you, with eloquence, for the reception 
 that you have given me to-night. In spite of the 
 comforting words and suggestions of our friend, the 
 chairman, that on Tuesday morning my feelings may 
 undergo a change, I am quite determined that to-night 
 and to-morrow night, if all be well, I shall have a 
 good night's rest. I do feel naturalized ; and, what- 
 ever may be said to the contrary, I shall always bear 
 away with me the impression that I am among my 
 own flesh and blood. (Applause.) The simile of the 
 turkey did not affect me very much ; for if the ill- 
 omened bird (I do not know whether he is as familiar 
 in your country as he is in mine), the goose, is not 
 served up, I shall be very content. (Applause.) 
 
 " You have received me, not as a stranger, but as a 
 welcome friend (applause), and that welcome I appre- 
 ciate with all my heart and soul. In coming here 
 amongst you I really had I may as well confess it 
 but one terror. The Atlantic I would brave ; the wind 
 and weather I would scorn ; even sea-sickness I would 
 enjoy; but there was one terror, the interviewer. 
 (Laughter.) But I am very glad to tell you that that 
 
At the Lotos Club. 71 
 
 is passed ; and I have said so much to the interviewer 
 that I have very little left to say to you. I must, 
 however, also tell you that I find the interviewer a 
 very much misrepresented person. He seemed to me 
 to be a most courteous gentleman, who had but an 
 amiable curiosity to know a little about myself that 
 he did not know before ; and I was very well satisfied 
 to gratify him as much as I could. 1 was told that 
 he would turn me inside out ; that he would cross- 
 examine me, and then appear against me the follow- 
 ing morning. (Laughter.) But I found nothing of 
 the sort ; and if I had any complaint to make against 
 him, the comments with which he tempered his sug- 
 gestions were so flattering and so gratifying to myself 
 that I forgave him the suggestions that he made. 
 The only thing that I would quarrel with him for was 
 for saying that I reminded him of Oscar Wilde. 
 (Laughter.) Oscar Wilde is a very clever fellow, and 
 I am not going to descant upon him. You know 
 more about him than I do ; and I hope that when 
 Oscar Wilde reads what I have said as I suppose he 
 will he will take no offence. I am extremely in- 
 debted to the interviewer, also, for telling me that I 
 was classed with Edwin Booth. With that I have no 
 fault to find. 
 
 ' ( To the courtesy and kindness of American gentle- 
 men I have long been accustomed ; for if you have not 
 in London, as you have in Paris, an American quarter, 
 it is really because Americans are found everywhere in 
 London ; and I think that everywhere in London they 
 are welcome. (Applause.) Our interests are mutual ; 
 and in our art we are getting day by day more closely 
 allied. London is now talking with raptures of your 
 Mary Anderson (applause) ; of your great tragedian, 
 Booth (applause) ; of your great comedian, Jefferson 
 (applause)- I dislike the words * tragedian ' and 
 ' comedian ; ' actor is so much better, and it is a house- 
 hold word. McCullough and Clarke, and my friends 
 Florence and Raymond, have had amongst us the 
 
72 Impressions of America. 
 
 heartiest of welcomes. And I am quite sure that your 
 famous actress, Clara Morris, need only come amongst 
 us as my friend, Lawrence Barrett, is coming to 
 have another welcome. 
 
 " Mr. Whitelaw Reid has spoken of my work in my 
 art in the kindest and most appreciative way. If I 
 have done anything to gain that commendation, it is 
 because I have striven to do my duty ; and but for the 
 appreciation of many of my countrymen, who have 
 thought so, and but for the appreciation tbat I receive 
 now at this table, I am quite sure that my work would 
 have been in vain. 
 
 " I do not intend to bore you with any ideas of mine 
 about my art, either histrionically or pictorially. My 
 method, histrionically, is a very simple one. I merely 
 endeavour to go to the fountain-head to get my inspira- 
 tion ; and by what my work is I know that you will 
 judge it, and judge it fairly. I am quite sure of this : 
 that no people will go to a theatre with a greater desire 
 to do justice to an actor than you will go to the theatre 
 to see me on Monday night. (Applause.) If you like 
 me, you will express it ; and, if you do not like me, 
 still you will treat me kindly. 
 
 " Our art is cosmopolitan. Every actor has his own 
 methods, as every painter has his methods, and every 
 writer has his style. The best actor amongst us has a 
 great deal to learn. It is only at the end of his career 
 that he finds how short is his life, and how long is 
 his art. Concerning the mounting of plays, I give 
 to a play of Shakespeare the same advantage that I 
 would give to any modern author ; and, until a greater 
 man than Shakespeare arrives, I think I shall continue 
 to do so. (Applause.) 
 
 " In my own dear land I am glad to tell you that 
 the love for Shakespearian drama is very greatly in- 
 creasing. Shakespearian societies throughout our land 
 have done much to encourage that. You know very 
 well that there was a time when Shakespeare was said 
 by a London manager to spell f bankruptcy/ and Lord 
 
At the Lotos Club. 73 
 
 Byron f ruin/ I remember that at one of the revivals 
 of Shakespearian plays at the Lyceum, a gentleman 
 leaving the theatre was heard to express the opinion 
 that the play was not a bad one ; that he thought it 
 might have a tolerable run, but that it would be 
 very much improved if it had not contained so many 
 quotations. (Laughter.) The play was 'Macbeth/ 
 (Laughter.) I have been told that that gentleman is 
 sometimes to be found in the British Museum, in the 
 old reading-room devoted to Shakespearian manuscripts, 
 and that he is very frequently found turning them 
 over ; but with what success I do not know. I also 
 remember that once, when a play was produced, a 
 friend of mine asked me what the subject of it was. 
 I said to him that the subject was Charles I., at which 
 he hemmed and hawed and said, f Very good; very 
 good ; oh, capital ! Charles I. Yes, I should think 
 that would do very well. Let me see. Charles I. Do 
 you mean Shakespeare's Charles I. ? ' (Laughter.) 
 However, these things are improving, and even the 
 old play-goer, I do not know whether such a 
 character exists amongst you, who is amongst us a 
 very dreadful creature ; even he is beginning to tolerate 
 the student who goes to the book, instead of to tra- 
 ditional characters, for his inspiration. 
 
 " We are very hypocritical, however, some of us, in 
 England. We go to the Crystal Palace to see the 
 play of ' Hamlet/ and go to the Crystal Palace because 
 it is not a theatre ; and when we would not go to a 
 theatre to see the play of f Hamlet/ we will go to the 
 Crystal Palace, or some other such place, to see the 
 ' Pink Dominoes/ (Laughter.) We will crowd some- 
 times to the French theatre, without understanding 
 the nationality, the gesture of the actors, or a word of 
 their language, when we will desert our own theatres 
 where these pieces are being played. But fortunately 
 no such difference as that can exist between us ; and I 
 cherish the hope that it will be my good fortune, and 
 more especially the good fortune of my fellow-workers, 
 
74 Impressions of America. 
 
 and especially of my gifted companion and friend, 
 Ellen Terry (Great applause), I say that I cherish 
 the hope that we shall be able to win your favour. 
 (Applause.) I dare say that you will find many of us 
 very strange and very odd, with peculiarities of speech, 
 and with peculiarities of manner and of gesture ; but 
 it would, perhaps, not be so pleasurable if we were all 
 just alike. (Laughter.) It is not our fault, you 
 know, if we are Englishmen. 
 
 " Gentlemen, I thank you with all my heart for the 
 greeting you have given me. I thank you for the 
 brotherly hand that you have extended to me. And if 
 anything could make one feel at home, and comfort- 
 able, and sure of having a real good time amongst you, 
 it is the cordiality with which I have been received to- 
 night. The very accents of your hearty greeting, and 
 the very kindness of your genial faces, tell me that 
 there are in your hearts good and kind overflowing 
 wishes. Gentlemen, I thank you with all my heart; 
 and I feel that there is a bond between us which dates 
 before to-night." 
 
 The speaker sat down amidst great applause. His 
 manner and matter had evidently given great satisfac- 
 tion. How he had been misrepresented as to his man- 
 nerisms is unconsciously admitted by the note of the 
 Tribune reporter, that he spoke clearly. He did ; 
 and in that quiet, self-possessed, conversational style 
 which was remarked as so effective at the London 
 banquet. 
 
 in. 
 
 IT was late before the Lotos eaters parted, although 
 London clubmen take more out of the night than is the 
 habit with New-Yorkers. The raciness of the evening's 
 speeches was repeated in the stories that were told by 
 the genial few, who sat and talked and smoked with 
 their guest, until Fifth Avenue was as quiet and de- 
 serted as it was when a crowd of admiring friends 
 went out to meet the Britannic a week previously. 
 
At the Lotos Club. 75 
 
 Apropos of an amusing anecdote, with a practical joke 
 in it, which was related, I think, by Colonel Knox, the 
 courteous honorary secretary of the club, Irving said, 
 " I am not much of a hand at that kind of fun, but I 
 remember an incident in which my old friend Toole, a 
 Glasgow doctor, and myself were engaged, that may 
 amuse you. Some years ago we found ourselves with 
 a holiday forced upon us by the Church of Scotland. 
 We utilized it by going out a short distance into the 
 country and dining together at a famous roadside inn. 
 The house was quite empty of guests, and we claimed 
 the privilege of travellers, on our way to the next town, 
 to sit over our dinner a trifle later than it was the 
 custom to keep the bar open. The landlord was very 
 civil, and we had an excellent dinner. The waiter who 
 attended to our wants was a quaint old fellow one of 
 those rugged sort of serving-men with whom Sir 
 Walter Scott has made us all so well acquaioted. 
 While he was respectful, he was, nevertheless, very 
 talkative. He told us there had been of late many 
 robberies in the neighbourhood. The constabulary, 
 he said, were quite out of their reckoning in regard to 
 tracing the thieves. He wondered if the country was 
 going back again to the coaching days when cracks- 
 men and highwaymen had it all their own way in those 
 parts. The old fellow was a little superstitious too, 
 and a lover of the marvellous, as many of the country 
 people who live outside great cities are apt to be. 
 
 " ' You seem a trifle hipped/ I said ; * take a glass 
 of wine.' 
 
 " ' I am just a wee bit low/ he said ; ' what wi' the 
 bad weather, the dull times ' 
 
 " ' And the robberies you've lately had about here/ 
 I suggested. 
 
 " ' Ah, weel, they're nae calculated to raise one's 
 sperrits. Good health to you, gentlemen ! ' 
 
 " We thanked him, and I filled his glass again. 
 
 " ' This house/ said Toole, * is rather a lonely place ; 
 you don't have many guests staying here ? ' 
 
76 Impressions of America. 
 
 " f Not afc this time o' the year/ lie replied ; ' only- 
 just chance customers/ 
 
 " I filled his glass again before he went for the 
 cheese. When he came back I took up a fork,, and 
 expressed some surprise that the master should, in 
 these thieving days, entrust his guests with real silver 
 plate. 
 
 " ( I dinna bring it oot for everybody/ he replied j 
 'but for a pairty o' gentlemen like yoursels, it's a 
 d efferent thing/ 
 
 ' ' ' Is the salver there/ asked Toole, taking up 
 the running and pointing to the sideboard, ' real 
 silver ? ' 
 
 " ' Indeed it is, and all the plate aboot is silver, and 
 I ken they dinna mak' sich silver nowadays/ 
 
 " ' Bring us a little whisky ! a pint in a decanter ; 
 a drop of the best/ I said. 
 
 " Having planted the right kind of seed in his mind 
 for the working of a little jest I had in my own, my 
 companions and myself entered into a conspiracy 
 against the peace of this harmless Scotchman. Invited 
 to take a nip of whisky, he readily complied, and just 
 as readily took a seat. We drew him out about all the 
 robberies and murders he could remember, and then 
 deftly got from him the statement that his master had 
 gone to bed, leaving up only himself, the bar-maid, 
 and his wife. Presently the doctor looked at his 
 watch, and said it would soon be time for us to go. 
 ' I think you had better get our bill, Sandy/ I said, 
 for by this time I was quite on familiar terms with him, 
 and he with me. ' You need not be in a hurry ; let 
 us have it in about a quarter of an hour/ added Toole, 
 somewhat mysteriously. ' We are not quite ready to 
 go yet/ 
 
 " ' Vary weel, and thank ye/ he said, at the same 
 time making us a bow which was quite a study of 
 manner, combining independence and servility. He 
 was a fine old fellow, straight as a poplar, but with a 
 face full of wrinkles, and a characteristic gait that 
 some people would call a mannerism. 
 
At the Lotos Club. 77 
 
 " The moment he left the room each of us seized a 
 piece of plate until we had cleared up every bit of silver 
 in the room. We noted the exact places from which 
 we took every piece ; then we opened the window. It 
 was a very dark night, but we had noticed that close 
 by the window there w r ere some thick shrubs. We 
 put out the gas, but left alight two candles on the table, 
 so that we could see from our hiding-place what 
 Sandy's face would look like when it should dawn 
 upon him that we were a pack of thieves perhaps 
 part of the gang of swell-mobsmen who had become 
 the terror of the district. 
 
 " I shall never forget the bewildered expression of 
 the poor fellow's face as he stared at the empty room. 
 Amazement gave place to fear, and fear to indignation, 
 when he discovered that the silver had been carried 
 off. 
 
 " ' Great heevens ! ' he exclaimed. ' Thieves ! berg- 
 lers ! robbers ! An' if the rogues hae nae carried off 
 the plate and gan awa' wi'out payin' their score into 
 the bargain, my name is nae Sandy Blake ! ' 
 
 " He rushed to the open window and peered wildly 
 out into the darkness. 
 
 " ' The scoundrels were just fooling me, like any 
 softy/ 
 
 " Then he began to shout ' Thieves ! ' and ' Murder ! ' 
 and ran off, as we hoped and expected he would, to 
 alarm the house. We all crept back to the room, 
 closed the window, drew down the blind, relighted the 
 gas and our cigars, put each piece of silver back into 
 its proper place, and sat down to wait for our bill. We 
 could hear Sandy, at the top of his voice, telling the 
 story of the robbery ; and in a few minutes we 
 heard evidently the entire household coming pell- 
 mell to the dining-room. Then our door was flung 
 open; but the crowd, instead of rushing in upon 
 us, suddenly paused en masse, and Sandy exclaimed, 
 ' Great God ! Weel, weel ! Hae I just gane clean 
 daft?' 
 
 " ' Come awa', drunken foo', come awa j !' exclaimed 
 
78 Impressions of America. 
 
 the landlord, pulling Sandy and the rest back into the 
 passage and shutting the door ; but we could hear how 
 both master and wife abused poor Sandy, who did 
 nothing but call upon his Maker and declare, if he 
 had to die that minute, when he went into the room 
 it was empty of both guests and silver. He was told 
 to go to bed and sleep off his drunk, and thank his 
 stars that his long service saved him from instant 
 dismissal. 
 
 " We rang the bell. The landlord himself answered 
 it. We asked for an explanation of the hubbub. It 
 was nothing, he said, only that his man had got drunk 
 and made a fool of himself. Was that all ? we asked. 
 Well, yes, except that he was very sorry to have so 
 disturbed us. To have all the house burst in upon us, 
 we said, was such a strange proceeding, that we 
 begged he would explain it. He said he did not like 
 to do so. It was the first time Sandy had ever been 
 known to get so drunk as to lose his senses, and all he 
 could do was to express his regret that his servant had 
 made a fool of himself; but he would not insult his 
 guests by telling them how great an ass the fellow was. 
 We coaxed him, however, to explain the entire busi- 
 ness ; and at last, with many apologies, he told us how 
 the drunken fool had mistaken us for a pack of thieves, 
 and swore we had run off without paying our bill and 
 taken the plate with us. We humoured the landlord 
 for a time, and when he was at last in a genial temper 
 we told him the true story, and he enjoyed the joke as 
 well as any of us. Then we had him send for Sandy, 
 who was so glad to discover that he had not lost his 
 wits that a couple of sovereigns left him, at our de- 
 parture, just as happy and contented a man as he was 
 before making the acquaintance of ' a parcel of actors/ 
 who are still regarded in some remote corners of Great 
 Britain as the ' rogues and vagabonds ' they are pro- 
 claimed in our ancient statute books/' 
 
The Nig Jit before the Play. 79 
 
 y. 
 
 THE NIGHT BEFOKE THE PLAY. 
 
 The Vividness of first Impressions New York Hotels On the 
 Elevated Eoad with " Charlie " Trotting-horses 
 Audiences on both, sides of the Atlantic " A man knows 
 best what he can do " " Americanisms," so called A 
 satirical Sketch, entitled "Bitten by a Dog" Louis 
 and the Duke of Stratford- on- Avon Macready and the 
 Forrest Eiots. 
 
 I. 
 
 <( A JOURNALIST from Chicago is anxious to know your 
 opinion of New York, and to have some suggestions 
 about the state of your feelings concerning your first 
 appearance in America/' I said; "and if you will talk 
 to him, I have undertaken to collaborate with him in 
 writing the interview, so that I may revise and adopt 
 it for our book of impressions/' 
 
 "Is he here?" 
 
 " Yes, he has come over a thousand miles to see you, 
 and his chief is an old friend of mine, the proprietor of 
 the Daily News" 
 
 " I am quite willing/' he said, "if you think my im- 
 pressions are of sufficient importance to record, after 
 only a week of New York." 
 
 " First impressions of a new country are always the 
 most vivid. I believe in first impressions, at all 
 events, in your case. It is another matter when one 
 comes to treat them as a basis for philosophical argu- 
 ment. Your friend, Mr. Matthew Arnold, was not 
 backward in discussing the American people, their 
 
8o Impressions of America. 
 
 cities, their institutions, their manners and customs, 
 before he had crossed the Atlantic at all." 
 
 (f Well, let us talk to Chicago then, if you wish 
 it." 
 
 " So far, are you satisfied with your reception in 
 this country ? " 
 
 " More than satisfied ; I am delighted, I might say 
 amazed. It is not only the press and the public who 
 have shown me so much attention, but I have received 
 many courtesies privately, some from American 
 friends whom I have met in London, some from 
 gentlemen whom I have never seen."" 
 
 " What is your general impression of New York, its 
 theatres, hotels, streets, and its social life ? " 
 
 " I think Wallaces, or the Star, as it is called, one 
 of the most admirable theatres I have ever seen, so far 
 as the auditorium is concerned, and, in some respects, 
 as to the stage. The appointments behind the foot- 
 lights are rather primitive ; but, as a whole, it is a fine 
 house." 
 
 " Is it as good as your own in London ? " 
 "^Better, in many respects. As for the hotels, they 
 are on a far larger scale, and seem more complete in 
 their arrangements than ours. The Brevoort is, I am 
 told, more like an English house than any other in the 
 city. The genial proprietor evidently desires to make 
 his guests think so. Portraits of Queen Victoria, the 
 late Prince Consort, and pictorial reminiscences of the 
 old country meet you at every turn. As for social 
 life in New York, what I have seen of it is very much 
 like social life in London a little different in its forms 
 and ceremonies, or, I might say, in the absence of 
 ceremony and with this exception, that there does 
 not appear to be what you would call an idle class here, 
 a class of gentlemen who have little else to do but to 
 be amused and have what you call * a good time/ 
 Everybody seems to be engaged in business of some 
 kind or another." 
 
 " Is this your first visit to America ? " 
 
The Night before the Play. 81 
 
 " Yes ; though I seem to have known it for a long 
 time. American friends in London have for years been 
 telling me interesting things about your country. I 
 had heard of the elevated road, Brooklyn Bridge, 
 and the splendid harbour of New York. But they 
 are all quite different to what I had imagined 
 them. The elevated railway is a marvellous piece of 
 work. I rode down-town upon the Sixth Avenue 
 line yesterday. They compelled me to carry my 
 dog Charlie; and I notice, by the way, a remark- 
 able absence of dogs in the streets. You see them 
 everywhere, you know, in London. Charlie, an old 
 friend of mine, attracted great attention on the 
 cars." 
 
 " More than you did ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes; much more. He's a well-bred little 
 fellow, and one gentleman, who took a great interest 
 in him, tried to open negotiations to buy him from me. 
 Poor Charlie ! he is getting old and blind, though he 
 looks sprightly enough. He has travelled with me in 
 Europe and Africa, and now in America some day we 
 hope to see Asia together." 
 
 ' ' Does he go with you to the theatre ? " 
 
 " Always ; and he knows the pieces I play. I sup- 
 pose he knows them lay the colour of the clothes I 
 wear. During some plays he sniffs about all night 
 during the long ones he settles quietly down. When 
 ' Hamlet ' is played he is particularly sedate. He 
 hates the { Lyons Mail/ because there is shooting in it. 
 When the murder-scene comes he hides away in the 
 furthermost corner he can find." 
 
 " You are fond of animals ? " 
 
 "Yes, very; and the most characteristic thing I 
 believe I have yet seen in America is your trottiag- 
 horse. I have been twice upon the track beyond the 
 park ; it is a wonderful sight." 
 
 " Have you no trotting-horses in England ? " 
 
 " Nothing like yours, and no light vehicles such as 
 yours. I could only think of the old chariot races as I 
 
 a 
 
82 Impressions of America. 
 
 watched the teams of magnificent trotters that rushed 
 by me like the wind. I hear you have a fine race- 
 course at Chicago. Our friend Hatton told me long 
 ago about seeing the famous Maud S. make her great 
 time there/' 
 
 "Oh, yes. I remember how astonished he was. 
 Maud S. and our fire-engine service captured his fancy. 
 He described the racing in ' To-day in America/ You 
 are coming to Chicago ? " 
 
 "Yes. I am informed that I shall strike quite a 
 different civilization in your city to that of New York, 
 that public life with you is even more ardent than it is 
 in the Empire city, and that the spirit of your commerce 
 is more energetic. I can hardly understand that ; but 
 I long to see your wonderful new streets and your city 
 boundaries that daily push their way into the prairie. 
 John McCullough, I remember, once gave me a 
 startling description of Chicago." 
 
 " I see that Mr. Sala, in the Illustrated London News, 
 warns you to expect our press to attack you. Is Mr. 
 Sala a friend of yours ? " 
 
 " Yes; and a dear friend, and a very remarkable man. 
 But we are wandering a little from the subject you 
 came to talk about/' 
 
 " Not much. May I ask if you have any nervous- 
 ness as to your first appearance ? " 
 
 "Yes, the natural nervousness that is part of an 
 actor's first appearances everywhere. I cannot think 
 that the taste for the drama is any different in New 
 York and Chicago from Dublin, Edinburgh, Glasgow, 
 Liverpool, Birmingham, or London, in my own 
 country/' 
 
 " Yery much is expected of you. It would be hardly 
 possible for you to realize the exaggerated ideas of 
 some people. If you were a god you could not satisiy 
 their expectations." 
 
 "Nor, if I were a demon, could I achieve the 
 attitudes and poses of my caricaturists. Between the 
 two there is hope/' 
 
The Night before the Play. 83 
 
 " You feel that it is a great ordeal anyway ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Some of your methods are new, more particularly 
 as to Shakespearian productions ? " 
 
 " I believe so. In my early days I had little oppor- 
 tunity to see other actors play Shakespeare, except on 
 the stage where I acted with them, and then I was so 
 occupied with my own work that I had little time to 
 observe theirs. I had consequently to think for my- 
 self. It does not follow, of course, that I have always 
 done the right thing, but my principle has been to go 
 straight to the author. I have not taken up the 
 methods of other actors, nor modelled my work on this 
 or that tradition. A man knows best what he can do, 
 and it seems to me just as absurd for one actor to 
 imitate another to recite this speech, or impersonate 
 that action, as he has seen some other actor recite or 
 impersonate as it would be for a writer to print a 
 historical incident just as some other had done, or for 
 a modern novelist to write his stories on the lines of 
 Fielding, Eichardson, or Thackeray, without giving 
 play to his own talents, or reins to his own imagination 
 and conception of character." 
 
 " I will not weary you by going over the old ground 
 concerning your alleged mannerisms ; but I see that 
 a New York paper has already taken you to task for 
 jesting about the Pilgrim fathers. Did you notice 
 that?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ; you mean as to the Pilgrim mothers. I 
 had no intention to jest about Plymouth rock. I only 
 repeated a story told me by an American friend, the 
 point of which was that the austerity of the Pilgrim 
 fathers must have made them trying persons for the 
 Pilgrim mothers. A very harmless bit of fun. One 
 of my interviewers makes me speak of ' Americanisms J 
 too. The word should have been ' mannerisms/ In 
 regard to the so-called Americanisms of American 
 actors, all I have heard in that way have fallen from 
 the lips of Eaymond and Florence, just as you would 
 
 a 2 
 
84 Impressions of America. 
 
 hear Cockneyisms from our humorous comedians, 
 Toole and Brough. The accent of your great actors 
 does not strike me as different to our own ; though a 
 reporter on board the Britannic, last Sunday, told me 
 he had understood I had a very strange accent, and 
 was surprised to find that I spoke English as well as 
 he did." 
 
 n. 
 
 THE night before Irving's first appearance at the Star 
 Theatre was spent at a quiet little supper given to a 
 few private friends, at the Manhattan Club. The 
 conversation turned chiefly upon English actors. 
 
 " I was once at a dinner of a Theatrical Fund, over 
 which a famous old actor presided, " said Irving. 
 ' ' His proposal of the first toast of the evening was a 
 pathetic incident. His mind was wandering back to 
 his early days. After alluding to the loyalty of all 
 classes of Englishmen, and of actors in particular, he 
 raised his glass and said, ( Gentlemen, I beg to give 
 you the health of his Majesty King George the 
 Third I'" 
 
 Somebody suggested that the ocean trip had done 
 Irving a great deal of good. 
 
 " It was the most perfect rest I ever remember to 
 have had/' he said ; " nothing to do, nothing to think 
 of, no letters to answer none to receive, for that 
 matter; nothing to do but to rest. I took plenty of 
 exercise, also, on deck. I must have walked many 
 miles a day/' 
 
 Later in the evening, over a last cigar, he said to me, 
 " But I did a little writing on board the Britannic. I 
 think it will amuse you. Watson asked me to send 
 him something for the Christmas number of his news- 
 paper, an anecdote, or sketch of some kind. Shortly 
 before I left Liverpool there appeared in the journals a 
 paragraph to the effect that I had been bitten by a dog 
 at some very aristocratic house. It occurred to me 
 on the Britannic that this would make a good little 
 
The Night before the Play. 85 
 
 story. You were telling me last night about my 
 estate and palace on the Thames, and yet I don't 
 suppose any man leads a quieter life than I do. I call 
 my story ' Bitten by a Dog.' ' 
 
 He read as follows, and, like most humourists, was 
 tickled with his own fun, laughing now and then with 
 real enjoyment at the suggestiveness of his satirical 
 references to newspaper gossips, who, not knowing him 
 personally, or being in any way acquainted with his 
 habits, undertake to describe his inner life : 
 
 " We regret to hear that Mr. Henry Irving, while on a visit 
 
 near , was severely bitten by a favourite dog, belonging to his 
 
 host. He bled profusely, but we sincerely hope that he will not 
 seriously suffer from this occurrence. Newspaper Paragraph. 
 
 " The circumstance thus recorded was somewhat 
 novel to me, and having received several telegrams 
 and letters of condolence upon my sad misfortune, I 
 thought I would attempt, during my leisure upon the 
 good ship Britannic, to tell this little story of ' The 
 Bite of a Dog/ with a veracity equalling that of the 
 inventor of the above-quoted paragraph. 
 
 " Seated in one of the suite of rooms which I in- 
 variably occupy in the hotels of the United Kingdom 
 during my provincial tours which have become alike 
 the wonder and amazement of the entire dramatic 
 profession I was gazing into one of the many mirrors 
 before which it is my regular habit to study grace of 
 pose and poetry of expression. I was surrounded by 
 the secretaries without whom I never travel; some 
 telegraphing to the four corners of the globe the 
 astounding success and enormous profit which accom- 
 pany all my undertakings ; others translating some of 
 those essays on dramatic art which have done so much 
 to regenerate the British drama; others copying in 
 manifold certain not uncomplimentary criticisms of 
 my own composition upon the most subtle and sublime 
 of my impersonations; for, with Garrick, I agree that 
 the actor should ever embrace the opportunity of be- 
 coming the critic of his own performances. 
 
86 Impressions of America. 
 
 " In the midst of this multitudinous work a messenger 
 was announced from the Duke of Stratford-upon- Avon. 
 With a thrill of pleasure I sprang to my feet, and, 
 greeting the messenger with a fascinating smile, 
 begged him to be seated. Then throwing myself with 
 a careless ease upon the velvet-pile sofa which adorned 
 my room (a present from one of my admirers, and 
 which I always carry with me, as I do my many 
 mirrors), I crossed my graceful right over my still 
 more graceful left leg, broke the duke's seal, and 
 perused his letter. 
 
 " It was an invitation to sojourn from Saturday to 
 Monday at the duke's feudal home, some fifteen miles 
 from the town I was then appearing in. Throughout 
 my life it has been my practice to solicit the favour and 
 patronage of the great ; for it is my firm belief that, to 
 elevate one's art, one should mix as much as possible 
 with the nobility and gentry. 
 
 ' To grovel to the great is no disgrace, 
 For nothing humble can be out of place.' 
 
 <f This social opportunity was not to be lost ; hesita- 
 tion there was none ; the invitation was accepted. 
 
 " On the night of my visit to his Grace, the theatre 
 was crammed from floor to ceiling with an audience 
 attracted by that cold curiosity which characterizes the 
 public with regard to my performances. The play was 
 ' Louis XL/ and the difficult feat which I had to 
 accomplish was to catch a train after the performance, 
 in order to present myself at the mansion of my noble 
 host in time to participate in the ducal supper. 
 
 " Throughout the play I laboured with all heart and 
 earnestness to cut short the performance by every 
 means in my power. I was determined to sleep under 
 the roof of the Stratford- upon- Avons that night, come 
 what would. 
 
 " The curtain fell only five minutes before the time 
 of the train starting ; so, throwing on my overcoat of 
 sable furs (a handsome adjunct to my American expe- 
 
The Night before the Play. 87 
 
 dition), and, still attired as King Louis, for I had 
 no time to change my costume, I rushed into the 
 brougham, ready at the stage door, and, followed by 
 my valet, drove frantically to the station. 
 
 " I was thrust immediately through the open door of 
 the nearest compartment the door was locked the 
 whistle shrieked away sped the train and, panting 
 and breathless, I was left to my meditations. 
 
 " ' Ah ! horror ! most dreadful thought; too dreadful 
 to relate ! I have left the theatre without my teeth, 
 my beautiful teeth ! ' 
 
 " In order to heighten the realism of my impersonation 
 when I first acted Louis, I had several teeth extracted 
 by one of our most eminent dentists, who has offered, 
 as an advertisement, to take out any others in the like 
 liberal manner. 1 In my insane hurry to catch the train 
 I had left my teeth in a glass on my dressing-room 
 table. 
 
 " But regrets are useless ; the train has stopped, and 
 I enter the duke's chariot, in waiting at the station, and, 
 through the broad woodlands, soon reach the duke's 
 home. 
 
 "I alight from the ancestral coach and enter the 
 ancestral hall, in which a cheerful fire is blazing upon 
 the ancestral hearth. 
 
 " Suddenly I find myself in the presence of my host, 
 surrounded by many scions of the nobility of ' England, 
 Home, and Beauty/ The oddness of my position 
 (dressed as I was, and minus my teeth), and the natural 
 inferiority which I always feel when in the presence of 
 
 1 This story was reprinted in several American papers. A 
 dentist of some note in a leading city, not appreciating its satire, 
 wrote a long letter to Mr. Irving, offering to make him a new set 
 of teeth, on a patented system of his own, which had given great 
 pleasure to a number of eminent American ladies and gentlemen. 
 He enclosed a list of his clients, and the price of their teeth. As 
 
 public, thus " acting up 
 to the liberal principles of the English practitioner." 
 
88 Impressions of America. 
 
 the real aristocrat, robbed me for the moment of my 
 self-possession, and I unconsciously permitted two of 
 the gentlemen in powder to divest me of my overcoat, 
 and there I stood revealed as that wicked monarch 
 Louis XI. 
 
 "Now, this character I have long had an idea of 
 abandoning, for in art the eye must be pleased ; and, 
 though it is commendable to follow nature and truth, 
 yet if this can only be accomplished at the cost of one's 
 personal appearance, nature and truth should certainly 
 give way. But to resume. 
 
 " Surprise at my aspect was in every face. There 
 was a painful pause, and then a burst of laughter. 
 
 " ' What is it ? ' whispered one. 
 
 <( ' Who is it ? ' whispered another. 
 
 " f Irving/ said a third. 
 
 " ' Who's Irving ? ' asked a fourth. 
 
 ( ' ' What ! don't you know ? the actor Irving, 
 the actor I've seen him at the Gaiety ! ' 
 
 " I was profoundly relieved by the duke coming to 
 my rescue and graciously suggesting that I might, 
 before supper, wish to see my room. I thanked his 
 Grace with the dignity with which nature has endowed 
 me, and strode like Marshal Stalk across the marble 
 vestibule, when a fierce sanguinary Blenheim spaniel 
 flew from the lap of a dowager duchess, and, with a 
 terrific howl, buried its fangs in the calf of my 
 beautiful left leg. 
 
 " Consternation and pallor were in every countenance ; 
 the dowager ran to seize her pet ; but, to the dismay of 
 all, the dog's hold would not relax. They pulled and 
 pulled again, and ' Fido ' howled at every pull. His 
 teeth, unlike mine, would not be extracted. 
 
 " There was a pause of painful silence. Mingled 
 fear and compassion sat on every brow. The dowager 
 was on the point of swooning in the arms of the duke, 
 when the dignity and distinction which sometimes sup- 
 port me in emergencies came to my aid. Turning to 
 the gentle assembly, with a seraphic smile upon my 
 
The Night before the Play. 8^ 
 
 noble features, I said, as well as my articulation would 
 permit, 
 
 " ' Be not alarmed, fair ladies ; be not alarmed ! The 
 dog has not tommy leg; he has only torn my padding/ '' 
 
 in. 
 
 " GOOD-NIGHT/ J I said, "and good luck ! When next 
 we say good-night, New York will have pronounced 
 its verdict/' 
 
 " I don't believe in luck/ 7 he answered. " It will be 
 all right nevertheless. But it seems strange, after all 
 our talks of America, that to-morrow night I am to act 
 here inNew York. How everything comes to an end ! 
 Next year at this time, all being well, we shall be look- 
 ing back upon the whole tour, recalling incidents of 
 New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Chicago, Baltimore, 
 Washington ; and I dare say it will appear very much 
 like a dream. It was not far from this hotel where 
 Macready found refuge from the mob, in a friend's 
 house. During this week several persons who were 
 present have mentioned the riots to me, and they all 
 blame Forrest. I told them Forrest had some reason 
 to believe that Macready had set Forster against him, 
 which, no doubt, helped to embitter Forrest's mind. 
 They say, however, that Forrest's hatred of English 
 actors amounted to something like a mania. He must 
 have been a remarkable and great actor in many 
 parts." 
 
 Irving little thought that in the reminiscences of a 
 past, which had yet to come, would be an incident that 
 should inseparably link his own name with the Forrest- 
 Macready riots. 
 
. 
 
 \fmpressions of America. 
 
 VI. 
 THE BELLS. 
 
 A stormy Night in New York Ticket Speculators at work 
 A first-night Audience Mathias received with Enthu- 
 siasm Behind the Scenes Lighting the Stage Keturn- 
 ing Thanks Criticism of the Crowd John Gilbert's 
 Opinion Actor and Audience English Play-goers and 
 Londoners Laughter and Applause An artistic 
 Triumph. 
 
 I. 
 
 TORRENTS of rain without, and a great fashionable 
 crowd within the Star Theatre, inaugurated Irving' s 
 first appearance on the American stage. 
 
 The electric lights, away up among the wet clouds 
 that emptied themselves over Union Square, flashed 
 coldly on untended roadways, which vehicles of all 
 kinds churned into rivers of mud. The architectural 
 surroundings of the place, and the well-appointed car- 
 riages that dashed along to the Star Theatre and the 
 opera, were singularly out of keeping with the broken 
 streets and the everlasting telegraph poles of the 
 American continent. 
 
 It was a night on which London would have hesi- 
 tated to turn out of its comfortable homes to greet 
 even the most illustrious stranger; for the rain was 
 tropical in its density. It splashed on the pavements 
 in great drops, or, taken hold of by the wind, came 
 at you in sheets of water. Carriage -horses were pro- 
 tected with " rubber-cloths/' and the people who 
 stepped out of the cars at the top of Broadway, or 
 
The Bells. 91 
 
 were driven to the door of the theatre in the public 
 stages, were enveloped in " water-proofs. " Neverthe- 
 less, the moment they alighted they were mobbed by 
 a band of ticket speculators, who followed or preceded 
 them into the broad vestibule of the theatre, hawking 
 seats even under the box-office windows. In appear- 
 ance these energetic dealers were the counterpart of 
 the betting men you may see on any English race- 
 course, the same in manner, and almost in voice. 
 They were warmly and well clad, had satchels strapped 
 to their shoulders ; but, instead of shouting, " Two to 
 one, bar one ! " " I'll bet on the field ! " and other 
 similar invitations to do business, they announced, in 
 hoarse tones, " I have seats in the front row ! " 
 " Orchestra seats, third row ! " " I have the best seats 
 in the orchestra ! " These New York speculators held 
 in one hand a thick bundle of notes, and a packet of 
 tickets in the other. They had change ready for any 
 note you might offer them, and their tickets were fre- 
 quently what they represented them to be, " for the 
 choicest locations." 
 
 For some time a notable crowd of persons, dis- 
 tinguished in New York society, pushed their way to 
 seats which they had already secured, many of them. 
 at a premium of one hundred per cent, beyond the 
 box-office rates. 1 A large number of persons waited 
 
 1 Among the audience (says the Tribune) were Miss Ellen 
 Terry herself, accompanied by an elderly gentleman, with gray 
 hair, who to some was known to be Felix Moscheles, Mendels- 
 sohn's godson, with his wife, and a young man of boyish appear- 
 ance, known to many as the son of Lord Coleridge. In the other 
 boxes were W. H. Yanderbilt, Chauncey M. Depew, Judge Brady, 
 Augustus Schell, Algernon S. Sullivan, John H. Starin and Mrs. 
 Starin, Howard Carroll and Mrs. Carroll, Madame Nilsson, Dr. 
 Doremus and Mrs. Doremus, Mrs. Lester Wallack and Mrs. 
 Arthur Wallack, Mr. and Mrs. William Bond, Mr. and Mrs. 
 John Foord, Mrs. Charles Leland, Henry Kosener and Mrs. 
 Eosener, and Mr. and Mrs. Theodore Moss. Among other well- 
 known faces in the audience were noticed those of ex- Judge 
 Horace Russell, General Horace Porter, Colonel and Mrs. 
 Tobias, of Philadelphia; General Winslow, Dr. Fordyce 
 
92 Impressions of America. 
 
 in the vestibule until the curtain should go up, in the 
 hope that the speculators would, for a moderate con- 
 sideration, relax their grip on " choice seats." Many 
 tickets were sold, however, in the street and in the 
 vestibule of the theatre for suras varying from five to 
 ten dollars. Later in the evening, during the first 
 and second acts of the play, the speculators parted 
 with the balance of their property at box-office rates, 
 which they readily obtained. 
 
 The entire floor of an American theatre is devoted 
 to stall seats. Ladies and gentlemen who occupied 
 the back seats had to submit to constant arrivals all 
 through the first and second acts. The doors at the 
 Star Theatre open right upon the audience. They were 
 swinging backwards and forwards during the first half- 
 hour of the piece. It is a universal habit in America 
 for audiences not to be seated at the time announced for 
 the curtain to go up. Add to this the obstruction of 
 the ticket speculators and the premium they offer to 
 late comers. Supplement these disturbing elements 
 with a wet night ; the natural annoyance of individuals 
 who have paid large premiums for their seats; the 
 prejudice against Irving which had been persistently 
 promoted by his few but active enemies ; and you will 
 understand the severity of the ordeal of Irving' s first 
 appearance in the United States. 
 
 II. 
 
 A BOUND of applause greeted the rise of the curtain 
 upon the first scene of " The Bells." The audience 
 thus testified their desire to be kindly \ but, as the 
 first part of the story was told, there was a certain 
 
 Barker, George J. Gould, John Gilbert, Eafael Joseffy, Dr. 
 Robert Laird Collier, of Chicago ; Oscar Meyer and Mrs. Meyer, 
 Mrs. John T. Eaymond, Harry Edwards, Daniel Bixby, Charles 
 Dudley Warner, John H. Bird, Mrs. John Nesbitt, Miss Jeffrey 
 Lewis, Laurence Hutton, Mr. E. A. Buck, Mr. Whitelaw Reid, 
 Colonel Knox, ex-Governor D orsheimer, William Winter, and 
 Dr. Macdonald. 
 
The Bells. 93 
 
 impatience even in their recognition of the artistic 
 simplicity of the scene. " The Bells " opens more like 
 a novel than a play, and yet the suggestiveness of the 
 narrative at the table, as the topers chat and drink, is 
 singularly dramatic. On this first night the play seemed 
 to drag, and the audience were on the tiptoe of expec- 
 tation. Those who were comfortably seated were 
 anxious for the appearance of Irving ; those who 
 poured in to fill vacant seats at the back, and the 
 hundreds who pushed in to stand behind them, 
 created an uncomfortable sensation of disquiet. Had 
 the Star been a London theatre, the patience of the 
 people who were seated would have been so seriously 
 taxed that they would hardly have permitted the play 
 to proceed until order had been secured in all parts of 
 the house. 
 
 At last the door of the burgomaster's home-like inn 
 is flung open, and Irving stands there in his snow- 
 sprinkled furs, his right hand raised above his head 
 in the action of greeting his family, his left hand 
 grasping his whip. His entrance was never more 
 natural, never more picturesque. The audience hardly 
 heard his opening words, " It's I ! " They greeted 
 him with thunders of applause, and shouts of welcome. 
 He presently stepped forward from the door. Those 
 who knew him would not fail to detect an effort to 
 control his emotions, when he bowed his acknowledg- 
 ments of a greeting as spontaneous as it was hearty. 
 I had seen him in his dressing-room only a short time 
 before. He was anxious, but firm as a rock ; not in 
 doubt of his own powers, but impressed, as any man 
 might be, under similar circumstances, with the know- 
 ledge of how high the expectations of the people had 
 been raised ; how great the task of even approaching 
 the standard of their excited hopes. 
 
 And now that the audience, touched by the artistic 
 novelty of his appearance, and moved by their senti- 
 ments of hospitality, had given vent to their feelings, 
 they settled down to allow the actor, of whose methods 
 
94 Impressions of America. 
 
 they had heard so much, to conquer their favourable 
 opinion if he could. Despite the prejudices of some, 
 and the annoyance of those who had been victimized 
 by the speculators, auditors were willing to be cap- 
 tured, nay, were desirous, if they could honestly do 
 so, to endorse the verdict of their cousins o England, 
 as to the place which Henry Irving holds in dramatic 
 art. 
 
 " The Bells " is a weird play. Its lines are simple ; 
 it never halts. Mathias is an inn-keeper. He murders 
 his guest, a Polish Jew, murders him on the highway 
 for his gold, and is for ever haunted by his crime. 
 The jangle of the sleigh-bells, as the Jew's horse 
 gallops away after its master's death, is continually 
 in the assassin's ears. Their sad music trickles 
 through the story like the ripple of a rising stream 
 through stubble-fields in autumn. It sweeps over the 
 dramatic narrative like the sighing of the wind in 
 " chill October." Eemorse takes possession of the 
 criminal ; he dreams he is being tried for his life. 
 
 This scene affords special opportunities for illus- 
 trating Irving's dramatic magnetism. The judicial 
 court of his dreamland forces him to submit to the 
 operations of a mesmerist. Under this influence he 
 makes confession of his crime by re-enacting it. 
 Nothing more weirdly suggestive can be imagined. 
 Before an audience as breathless as the court, the 
 actor went through the pantomime of stopping the 
 Jew's horse, cutting down the Jew with an axe, 
 plundering the body and thrusting it into a limekiln. 
 Then, convicted and condemned, the murderer dies 
 under the violent shock to his nerves of this retri- 
 butive force of imagination, dies while the church- 
 bells are ringing for his daughter's marriage, his 
 last agonizing words, "Take the rope from my 
 throat ! " 
 
 Only a daring artist would undertake such a part ; 
 only a great one could succeed in it. Most of the 
 second and last acts is a monologue ; and, in a country 
 
The Bells. 95 
 
 like America, which is accustomed to rapidity of 
 thought and action, Irving was courageous in risking 
 the result of so serious a strain upon the mind of a 
 highly strung audience. The experiment, however, 
 was entirely a triumph, notwithstanding the previously- 
 mentioned discomforts attending an over-crowded 
 house, and the rain that stormed without. 
 
 in. 
 
 THE curtain having fallen on the first act, Irving 
 received the honour of a triple call, after which I went 
 to his room, and found him reading some of the 
 numerous cables and telegrams from home and from 
 several distant American and Canadian cities, wishing 
 him success. 
 
 " How kind everybody is ! " he exclaimed, as he 
 handed me a bundle of despatches. " You should have 
 seen the hundreds of telegrams and letters that were 
 sent to me on board the steamer as I was leaving 
 Liverpool ! " 
 
 " You are pleased?" 
 
 " More than pleased," he said " What an audience ! 
 I never played to a more sympathetic lot of people in 
 my life. They respond to every movement and point 
 of the scene with a marvellous promptitude." 
 
 " You still feel that you are among friends ? " 
 
 " I do, indeed." 
 
 " I believe you played that first act to-night better 
 than ever you played it in London." 
 
 " Do you think so ? ' Art is long and life is fleet- 
 ing."' ' 
 
 There was in the atmosphere behind the footlights 
 something of the electricity of a first night at the 
 Lyceum, no fuss, but a suppression of feeling, a kind 
 of setting of the teeth and a girding up of the loins. 
 The fine " property " horse of the vision scene, covered 
 with snow that would not melt, had been dragged to 
 the rear, and the stage was being set for the trial 
 scene. Mr. Frank Tyars had donned his ermine as 
 
g6 Impressions of America. 
 
 the judge, the mesmerist was ready at the wing, the 
 last nail was being driven into the judicial bench. 
 The local stage-hands and supers were at last evidently 
 impressed with the importance of attention to some 
 little matter of detail which they had daily tried to 
 shirk at rehearsal. There had even been difficulties, 
 on the stage and off, in regard to the regulation of the 
 lights. Prominent gas-brackets had been removed 
 from the auditorium, but the lowering of the lights 
 down nearly to darkness for the last act of " The Bells " 
 had been resisted. Later, however, Mr. Loveday 
 found his New York collaborators in this respect 
 willing allies ; and within the first week the man who 
 had charge of the calcium lights said, <{ I have seen 
 them all ; every one of the great actors and stage- 
 managers; and they don't begin to know as much 
 about lighting the stage as this Mr. Henry Irving has 
 forgotten ! " 
 
 A breathless silence testified to the impressiveness 
 of the last act. You might almost have fancied you 
 heard, in the car-bells of the streets, faint echoes of the 
 sleigh-bells that jangled in the ears of Mathias. I 
 remember the first night of "The Bells " at the 
 Lyceum. The stillness in this New York house, as 
 Mathias died of imaginary strangulation, reminded me 
 of the London theatre on that occasion. The sensation 
 in the two houses was the same. Nobody moved until 
 the thud of the drop-curtain roller emphatically 
 announced the end. Then the Star audience, as the 
 Lyceum audience had done before them, gave vent to 
 their enthusiasm. 
 
 Called and recalled, Irving appeared before the 
 curtain. Then there was a cry of " Speech ! " 
 " Speech ! " whereupon he said, 
 
 " Ladies and Gentlemen, I believe it is a custom 
 with you to allow an actor to thank you for the 
 pleasure you have given to him; and I will avail 
 myself of that custom now, to say that I thank you 
 with all my heart and soul. It seems to me that the 
 
The Bells. 97 
 
 greatness of your welcome typifies the greatness of 
 your nation. I thank you, and ( beggar that I am, I 
 am even poor in thanks/ Let me say that my comrades 
 are also deeply sensible of your kindness, and let 
 me add that I hope you will give a warmer welcome, 
 if such were possible, than I have received to my 
 associate and friend, Miss Ellen Terry, who will have 
 the honour of appearing before you to-morrow night. 
 And, finally, if it be not a liberty, will you allow me to 
 express the hope ' that our loves may increase even as 
 our days do grow ' ? " 
 
 As the audience left the theatre, the opinions ex- 
 pressed accentuated the reality of the actor's success. 
 " The things that have been said about his mannerisms 
 are shameful ;" t{ Why, he has no more mannerisms 
 than Booth ! " "I never was more agreeably surprised ;" 
 "He speaks like an educated American ;" "And in 
 the street looks like a Yale or Harvard professor;" 
 " Never saw anything finer ;" te Most awfully impres- 
 sive scene, that last act " " Stage magnetism in the 
 highest degree /' " Guess he is safe for the biggest 
 run of popularity of any actor or any man who has 
 ever come to this country ;" " Oh, he is immense ! " 
 " Did you hear Tony Pastor say it's the intensest 
 acting he's ever seen, that's a compliment, from what 
 you may call a low comedian ;" " Madame Nilsson, 
 wasn't she delighted ?" "Yes, she wouldn't sing to- 
 night; would have a box to come and see Irving." 
 These were some of the remarks one caught as the 
 audience left the theatre; and the most practical 
 criticism is often heard as one leaves a theatre among 
 the crowd. 
 
 Coming upon a group of critics and others, I learn 
 that the critic of The Telegram says, " Irving is, indeed, 
 a revelation ! " while Mr. Oakey Hall, of Truth, thanks 
 God he has lived to see such an actor. Several mem- 
 bers of the Press Club join in the chorus of praise. 
 Buck and Fiske, of The Spirit of the Times, smile 
 quietly, as much as to say, " We told you so." The 
 
 H 
 
98 Impressions of America. 
 
 famous critic of the Tribune goes out, saying, ' ' Yes, it 
 is great ; there is no denying it." Mr. Wallack, who, 
 too ill to walk, had been carried to his box, expresses 
 his hearty admiration of the actor whom for so many 
 years he had longed to see; and Mr. Gilbert, 2 the 
 
 2 "Twelve Americans," a graphic series of biographical 
 sketches, by Howard Carroll, devotes some interesting pages to 
 the story of John Gilbert's life and work. For upwards of fifty 
 years an actor, this veteran of the American stage was born on 
 the 27th of February, 1810, at Boston, in a house " adjoining 
 that in which Miss Cushman, the greatest of American actresses 
 first saw the light." His parents were in a good position, and, 
 while they were not bigots, they did not altogether hold the 
 theatrical profession as a highly reputable one. Young Gilbert 
 was head of his class in declamation at the Boston High School. 
 When he left school he was sent into a commercial house 
 with a view to his becoming a dry-goods merchant. He disliked 
 business, and after reciting Jaffer, in " Venice Preserved," to 
 the manager of the Tremont Theatre, he was granted an appear- 
 ance. After opening the store where he was engaged he read 
 with delight in the newspaper, that in the evening " a young 
 gentleman of Boston" would make his debut in the play of 
 " Venice Preserved." He appeared and " did well," in spite of 
 his uncle (who was his master) scowling at him in front. " O 
 John ! what have you done ? " was the broken-hearted exclama- 
 tion of his mother the next day. John had not dared to go to 
 the store, and felt himself quite an outcast. He was forgiven, 
 however, in due course, and made a second appearance as Sir 
 Edward Mortimer, in " The Iron Chest." He was successful 
 beyond his expectations, and as " a boy actor " was praised as a 
 phenomenon. Later he joined the stock company, and was 
 reduced to " speaking utility " parts. Though disliking the 
 drudgery of his place, he grew up with his work, and with the 
 physical capacity for leading business he showed that he had 
 also the mental strength for it. He played with Macready and 
 Charlotte Cushman at the Princess's Theatre, London. At the 
 close of his engagement there he attended the leading English 
 theatres to study actors and their methods'. Thence he went 
 to Paris to complete his studies. On his return to America he 
 filled important engagements for some years at the old Park 
 Theatre ; then he went for a time to Boston, where he was a great 
 favourite ; and finally he joined the Wallacks, in New York, 
 where he has familiarized the Empire city with the best inter- 
 pretations of Sir Peter Teazle, old Dornton, old Hardy, Sir 
 Anthony Absolute, Major Oakley, Master Walter, Hardcastle, 
 
The Bells. 99 
 
 veteran comedian and stage-manager at Wallack's, is 
 <l impressed beyond expression, especially with the 
 business of counting the dowry." 
 
 There is a rush of critics, reporters, correspondents, 
 " down-to wn" to chronicle the night's success. One 
 or two writers, whose eccentricities give a commercial 
 value to their work, go away to maintain their lively 
 reputations ; but, on the whole, it is evident that 
 everybody, press men and public, is greatly pleased. 
 Many American journals in distant States were repre- 
 sented at the theatre by their own critics and by cor- 
 respondents. Long telegraphic despatches were wired 
 to the leading cities of the Union; the Associated 
 Press sent out special messages; the London journals 
 were in evidence, and a new Anglo-French paper in 
 Paris had commissioned its New York correspondent 
 to cable some thousand or more words of Irving' s 
 opening night. Since the Forrest-Macready riot no 
 theatrical event had created so general an interest as 
 the first appearance of Irving in America. 
 
 IV. 
 
 GOING behind the scenes after the play, I found a 
 representative of the Herald already ensconced in 
 Mr. Irving's dressing-room. He was pressing the 
 actor for his views of the audience, and for some con- 
 trasts of his sensations under the influence of this 
 audience and others before whom he had played in 
 England. At first Irving seemed inclined to say no 
 more than to express satisfaction at his success. But 
 the Herald representative was a quiet, cultivated, and 
 experienced journalist. Evidently a gentleman of 
 education, a travelled man, and discreet, he led the 
 actor into the conversational direction he desired him 
 to go, and the result was a pleasant and instructive 
 interview : 
 
 Sir Harcourt Courtley, Adams, and other high-class comedy 
 characters of the century. He is still to New York what the 
 elder Farren was to London. 
 
 H 2 
 
ioo Impressions of America. 
 
 " When I first stepped into view of the audience, 
 and saw and heard the great reception it gave me, I 
 was filled with emotion. I felt that it was a great 
 epoch in my life. The moment I faced the people -I 
 felt that we were friends. I knew that they wished 
 to like me, and would go away, if I disappointed them, 
 saying, 'Well, we wanted to like him ; but we couldn't/ 
 Who could stand before such an audience, on such an 
 occasion, and not be deeply moved ? All I can say is, 
 that it was a glorious reception, and typical of your 
 great people." 
 
 " But as to the merits of the audience theatre- 
 goers will judge your acting what is your opinion of 
 them?" 
 
 "The audience was a fine one. Apart from the 
 marks of intelligence, which could be read with the 
 naked eye, it was a fine assembly. I never played 
 before a more responsive or sympathetic audience. It 
 did not miss a point. I could tell all through the 
 play that every motion I made was being closely 
 watched; that every look, gesture, and tone was care- 
 fully observed. It is stimulating to an actor to feel 
 that he has won his audience/' 
 
 " You felt confident that you had made an impres- 
 sion upon the audience, and that there was no flattery 
 in the applause ? " 
 
 " After the first burst of welcome was over, yes. 
 I had not been on the stage five minutes before I 
 knew that I had control of my hearers, and that I 
 could make every point in the play tell. Then the 
 silence of the people the greatest compliment that 
 could be paid to one in such a play was always 
 succeeded by genuine applause at the end of the 
 act ! " 
 
 " Did you get such a reception when you appeared 
 as Mathias first before a London audience ? " 
 
 " Oh, no. Don't you see, I was comparatively little 
 known then/' 
 
 " Mr. Irving, an English newspaper a few days ago 
 
The Bells. 101 
 
 expressed a hope that you would be judged by your 
 merits, independent of anything that had previously 
 been said or written about you, and that Americans in 
 this case would not slavishly echo English opinion. 3 
 Was there any trace of independence in the manner of 
 the audience ? " 
 
 "Yes, yes, there was, certainly," said the actor, 
 rising and pacing the room. " It is not presumption 
 in me to say that I am sure I was judged solely on 
 my merits, and that the audience went away pleased 
 with me. There were times to-night when I could 
 feel the sympathy of my hearers actually feel it." 
 
 " The audience was quiet in the first act. The 
 interest is worked up to the climax so smoothly and 
 gradually that there was no opportunity for applause 
 until the end ? " 
 
 " There, now, you have found one of the differences 
 between the judgment of my audience to-night and 
 those I have played to in London. In the first part 
 of the play the English audiences laughed a great deal; 
 quite boisterously, in fact, at some of the comedy 
 scenes. But the absence of this to-night, I think, was 
 due to the fact that the people were straining to get 
 the exact run of the play, and wsre labouring under 
 anxiety it is not presumption if I say so to see me." 
 
 " Was' there any other feature of this kind that you 
 noticed ? " 
 
 " Yes j when Christian yields to my demand for a 
 promise that he will never leave the village while I am 
 alive, I say, ' It was necessary ! ' This point has 
 generally provoked laughter in England. To-night it 
 evoked earnest applause. On the other hand, for the 
 first time I heard the audience laugh at ' Now the 
 dowry to be given to our dear son-in-law, in order that 
 our dear son-in-law may love us.' " 
 
 8 This ^statement and question were founded upon the 
 Standard's message, previously referred to ; but which Mr. 
 Irving himself neither saw nor heard of until within a few days 
 of the close of his New York engagement. 
 
IO2 Impressions of America. 
 
 " Are you willing to be judged as an actor by to- 
 night's performance, Mr. Irving ? " 
 
 " For that character, yes." 
 
 " Is Mathias not your greatest role ? " 
 
 " My best ? Well, now, that's hard to say. There 
 is no ground for comparison, Charles the First is 
 so different ; he is full of qualities that are foreign to 
 Mathias. I cannot name a character in which I feel I 
 am best. They afford opportunities for the display of 
 different powers. I am fond of the part of Mathias, 
 it is true." 
 
 " Did your company play up to the standard of their 
 work in the Lyceum ? " 
 
 " Well, you have not seen them all ; you have not 
 seen Miss Terry or Mr. Howe." 
 
 " But did those of the company who were in the cast 
 to-night do as well as usual ? " 
 
 "They were rather slower, but quite good. Of 
 course every one was excited, more or less. There 
 is only one strong part in the play, and that is mine. 
 Mr. Terriss was excellent. Don't you think he is a 
 fine fellow ? " 
 
 Suiting the action to the word, Irving unconsciously 
 dropped into a military attitude, stretched his hand out 
 and threw back his head, a perfect fac-simile of Mr. 
 Terriss' impersonation of Christian. 
 
 "Is the scenery the same that was used in the 
 Lyceum ? " 
 
 " Exactly the same. You prompt me to mention a 
 particular point, now. Did you notice how little the 
 scenery had to do with the play? I have it so on 
 purpose. Why, there is practically no scenery. I try 
 to get as near truth as possible, as Caleb Plummer 
 says. I have sometimes heard that I rely on scenery. 
 So far I do : if it were the hovel of King Lear I would 
 have a hovel, and if it were the palace of Cleopatra I 
 would make it as gorgeous as the possibilities of art 
 would allow." 
 
The Bells. 103 
 
 " Do you look upon your reception to-night as a 
 success ? " 
 
 " In every way. One of your greatest actors told 
 me that American audiences are proverbially cold on 
 first nights. He was trying to save me from a 
 possible disappointment. In addition to this, ( The 
 Bells' is not a play for applause, but for earnest, 
 sympathetic silence. Need I say that the demonstra- 
 tions which burst forth on every occasion that good 
 taste would allow, are the best evidences that to-night 
 I have won an artistic triumph/' 
 
IO4 Impressions of America. 
 
 VII. 
 " RED LETTER DAYS/ 7 
 
 Miss Ellen Terry's first appearance in New York The Press on 
 Charles and the Queen A Professional Matinee An 
 audience of Actors to see Louis XL How they impressed 
 the Actor, and what they thought of him A visit to 
 Henry Ward Beecher At Church and at Home Mrs. 
 Beecher and Miss Terry Keminiscences Studies of Death, 
 Physiological and Idealistic Louis's Death and Hamlet's 
 A strange Story. 
 
 I. 
 
 NEW YORK received Miss Terry, on her first appear- 
 ance before an American audience, as cordially as it had 
 welcomed Irving. It was as Henrietta Maria that she 
 spoke her first words on the stage of the New World. 1 
 
 1 In " Charles the First " Irving confirmed the good impres- 
 sion he had made. Miss Terry received a most cordial reception, 
 and made so excellent an impression upon the audience, both by 
 her charming personality and admirable acting, that long before 
 the evening was over she had firmly established herself in the 
 good graces of her new public, who more than once, at the fall of 
 the curtain, invited her, with every enthusiastic mark of appro- 
 bation, to come before the 'house to receive in person its 
 acknowledgments and congratulations. Her success was un- 
 questionable. In the second act the curtain fell on the conclu- 
 sion of one of the grandest results that any actor has achieved 
 in New York for years. A continued succession of plaudits 
 came from all parts of the house. The performance was pro- 
 foundly conceived, acted out with infinite care, elaborated with 
 rare skill, and invested with naturalness that deserved all praise. 
 Irving, in his finale, merited fully every word that has been 
 written of his power, intensity, and dramatic excellence ; and 
 he was enthusiastically called before the curtain, in order that 
 the audience might assure him of that verdict. Miss Terry 
 
" Red Letter Days'' 105 
 
 There is no more tenderly poetic play in the repertoire 
 of the modern drama than " Charles the First." The 
 story in Irving' s hands is told with a truthful simplicity 
 that belongs to the hightest form of theatrical art. All 
 the leading critics recognized this. The effect of the 
 well-known Hampton Court cloth was so perfect in its 
 way, and so new to some of them, that it was regarded 
 as a cut cloth, with " raking " and water-pieces. The 
 Tri b une interpreted the general opinion of the audience, 
 when it said, "what most impressed them was Irving' s 
 extraordinary physical fitness to the accepted ideal of 
 Charles Stuart, combined with the passionate earnest- 
 ness and personal magnetism that enable him to create 
 and sustain a perfect illusion ;" while it may be said to 
 have just as happily expressed the views of another 
 class in the words : " To the student Mr. Irving's 
 Charles is especially significant, as indicative of the 
 actor's method in applying what is termed ' natural ' 
 treatment to the poetic drama." 
 
 " Louis XI.," " The Merchant of Venice," " The 
 Lyons Mail," and " The Belle's Stratagem," were the 
 other pieces produced during the four weeks in New 
 York. The theatre was crowded nightly, and on the 
 Saturday matinees. The speculators found it easier to 
 dispose of their tickets, as the weeks wore on, than 
 even during the first five or six days of the engagement. 
 Nothing damped the public ardour. The opera war be- 
 tween Mapleson and Abbey, as representatives of two 
 great parties of wealthy art patrons, had no apparent 
 influence on the receipts at the Star Theatre. One of 
 the greatest nights of the month marked the first 
 
 made the impression of a charming actress. There was some- 
 thing very captivating in the sweetness of her manner, the 
 grace of her movements, and the musical quality of her tones. 
 In acting, her points were made with remarkable ease and 
 naturalness. There was an entire absence of theatrical effect, 
 there was a symplicity of style in everything she did, a direct- 
 ness of method and sincerity of feeling that, as we have said, 
 was the simplicity of true art, and yet not the exaggeration 
 of the simplicity of nature. New York Herald. 
 
io6 Impressions of America. 
 
 appearance of Patti at the Academy of Music. Incle- 
 ment weather, abnormal charges for seats, strong 
 counter-attractions at the other houses, including the 
 two grand Italian Opera Companies, might have been 
 expected to discount the financial success of any rival 
 entertainment. They made no difference to Irving. 
 He was the talk, not of New York, but of America ; 
 and after her appearance as Portia, Miss Ellen Terry 
 was almost as much written about as he himself. 
 Unrivalled in the higher walks of comedy, Miss 
 Terry is to the American public as new as Irving in 
 the naturalness of her methods. 
 
 Shylock excited controversy, Louis inspired admira- 
 tion, Dubosc and his virtuous double commanded re- 
 spect, and the method of presenting the plays was a 
 theme of praise and delight in and out of the press. 
 Of Louis the Sun said, " Mr. Irving won his audience 
 to him almost at once. It was impossible to with- 
 stand the intensity, the vivid picturesqueness, and im- 
 posing reality of his portrayal, and after each great 
 scene of the play he was called again and again before 
 the curtain by hearty and most demonstrative applause. 
 It was a wonderful performance, and the impression 
 that it left is one that can never be laid aside." The 
 Times was struck with his appearance. " His make- 
 up is as perfect in its kind as that of Charles the First, 
 and nobody would imagine the actor to be the same 
 as the actor in either of the other parts which he has 
 presented. But the verisimilitude here goes much 
 deeper than the make-up. There is the senile garrulity 
 and the senile impatience of garrulity, the senile chuckle 
 over successful strokes of business. And this charac- 
 ter is deepened as the play advances. The occasional 
 expressions of energy are spasmodic ; and after each 
 the patient relapses into a still more listless apathy, 
 and this decay is progressive until the death-scene 
 which is the strongest and most impressive piece of 
 realism that Mr. Irving has yet given us." The 
 Herald commended Shylock to the Shakespearian 
 
" Red Letter Days" 107 
 
 student, " as the best exposition of the character that 
 can be seen on the stage ;" while the Tribune said of 
 Miss Terry, " Her simple manner, always large and 
 adequate, with nothing puny or mincing about it, is 
 one of the greatest beauties of the art which it so 
 deftly conceals. Her embodiment of a woman's love- 
 liness, such as in Portia should be at once stately and 
 fascinating, and inspire at once respect and passion, 
 was felicitous beyond the reach of descriptive phrases. 
 Her delivery of the Mercy speech was one of the few 
 perfectly modulated and entirely beautiful pieces of 
 eloquence that will dwell for ever in memory. Her 
 sweet and sparkling by-play in the ' business ' about 
 the ring and in her exit can only be called exquisite. 
 Better comedy has not in our time been seen/ 7 2 
 
 2 Miss Terry was born at Coventry, Feb. 27, 1848. Her 
 parents were members of the theatrical profession. Her first 
 appearances on the stage were in " The Winter's Tale " and 
 " King John " (Mamillius and Arthur), during the Shake- 
 spearian revivals of Charles Kean, in 1858. As Prince Arthur 
 she had repeated the success of her eldest sister Kate, who had 
 made her first appearance in the part six years previously. Mr. 
 Irving, during his conversations and speeches in this book of 
 " Impressions," has referred to the stock companies which, 
 at one time, were the provincial schools which supplied London 
 with its principal actors. When Ellen Terry was a girl, the 
 late Mr. Chute presided over the fortunes of two of the best 
 stock companies in the country. He was the lessee of. the 
 Bristol and Bath theatres, and he played his Bristol company 
 at Bath once or twice a week. Some twenty years ago 1 re- 
 member a stock company at the Bristol theatre, which included 
 Marie Wilton, Miss Cleveland (Mrs. Arthur Stirling), Miss 
 Mandelbert, Madge Eobertson (Mrs. Kendall) and her mother, 
 Arthur Stirling, George Eignold, William Eighold, Arthur 
 Wood, Fosbroke, and the fathers, respectively, of Marie Wilton 
 and Madge Eobertson. At that time Kate Terry and Ellen. 
 Terry had left for London, Ellen having joined the Bristol 
 company at the close of Charles Kean's management of the 
 Princess's. She played Cupid to her sister Kate's Diana in 
 Brough's extravaganza of " Endymion " at Bristol, in 1862. 
 She made her debut in London, March, 1863, as Gertrude, in the 
 "Little Treasure." The critics of the time recognized in her 
 art " an absence of conventionality and affectation," and they 
 
1 08 Impressions of America. 
 
 ii. 
 
 AT the written request of the leading actors and 
 theatrical companies of New York, Irving gave a 
 
 look back now to trace in her interpretations of "the buoyant 
 spirits, kindly heart, and impulsive emotions " of Gertrude for 
 the undoubted forecast of her present success, more particularly 
 in those characters which give full play to the natural sym- 
 pathetic and womanly spirit of her art. From March, 1863, 
 till January, 1864, she played Hero, in "Much Ado About 
 Nothing," Mary Meredith, in " The American Cousin," and 
 other secondary parts. She married and left the stage while 
 still a mere child, and was not yet twenty when she made her 
 reappearance at the end of October, 1867, in " The Double 
 Marriage," adapted from the French by Charles Eeade for the 
 New Queen's Theatre, London. She also played Mrs. Mildmay, 
 in " Still Waters," and Katharine in the ordinary stage version 
 of the "Taming of the Shrew," known as "Katharine and 
 Petruchio." It was in this comedy, on the 26th of December, 
 1867, that she and Mr. Irving first acted together. She left the 
 theatre in January, 1868, and did not reappear on the London 
 stage until 1874, when she succeeded Mrs. John "Wood in the 
 part of Phillippa Chester, in Charles Reade's " Wandering 
 Heir," which was produced under the author's management at 
 the Queen's Theatre. She afterwards joined Mr. and Mrs. 
 Bancroft's company at the Prince of Wales's, and was the Portia 
 to Mr. Coughlan's Shylock, in the ambitious production of 
 "The Merchant of Venice," which was to be a new departure in 
 the history of the famous little house near Tottenham Court 
 Road. Shakespeare did not prosper, however, at the Prince of 
 Wales's, though his great comedy was daintily mounted, and 
 Miss Terry's Portia was as sweet and gracious as the art of the 
 actress could make that sweet and gracious heroine. From the 
 Bancrofts, Miss Terry went to their rivals (Mr. Hare and the 
 Kendalls), at the Court Theatre. The sterling natural qualities 
 which some critics noted in her method when a child were 
 abundantly apparent in her Ophelia, a fresh, graceful, touching 
 performance, of which Punch said, January 11, 1879, " If any- 
 thing more intellectually conceived or more exquisitely wrought 
 out than Miss Terry's Ophelia has been seen on the English 
 stage in this generation, it has not been within Punch's 
 memory." She closed her engagement at the Court Theatre on 
 the offer of Mr. Irving to take the position of leading lady at 
 the Lyceum Theatre, where she made her first appearance, De- 
 cember 30, 1878, and since which time she has shared with him 
 the honours of a series of such successes as are unparalleled in 
 
" Red Letter Days" 1 09 
 
 " professional matinee " at the Star Theatre. The 
 play was " Louis XL" It was the first time Irving 
 had appeared before an audience of actors in any 
 country. The house was packed from floor to ceiling. 
 It was a singularly interesting and interested audience. 
 No actor, proud of his profession, could have looked at 
 it without a thrill of pleasure. Well-dressed, beaming 
 with intelligence and intellectuality, it was on good 
 terms with itself, and it settled down in stalls, boxes, 
 and dress circle with an air of pleasant expectation 
 that was refreshing to contemplate. 3 
 
 the history of the stage. They include the longest runs ever 
 known of " Hamlet," " The Merchant of Venice," " Romeo and 
 Juliet," and " Much Ado About Nothing." This is not the 
 place to do more than give these brief biographic notes of a 
 brilliant career. But one is tempted to quote a singularly 
 happy sketch of Miss Ellen Terry, which appeared, on the eve of 
 her departure for America, in the St. Stephen's Review, July, 
 1883 : " It is well for the stage that it possesses such a gift as 
 Ellen Terry. The ag3 is, on the whole, terribly unroniantic and 
 commonplace ; it deals in realism of a very uncompromising 
 form ; it calls a spade a spade, and considers sentiment an un- 
 pardonable affectation. But Ellen Terry is the one anachronism 
 that the age forgives ; she is the one living instance of an ideal 
 being that the purists pardon. As she stands before these cold 
 critics in her classical robes as Gamma ; as she drags at their 
 heart-strings as the forlorn and abandoned Olivia; as she trips 
 upon the stage as Beatrice ; as she appears in a wondrous robe 
 of shot-red and gold, or clothed " in white samite, mystic, 
 wonderful," as Ophelia, or, as she falls a-weeping as the heart- 
 broken queen on the breast of Charles the First, even these well- 
 balanced natures pronounce her inexplicable but charming. 
 She is the one actress who cannot be criticized ; for is she not 
 Ellen Terry ? " 
 
 a " All that has been said in recognition of Mr. Irring's intel- 
 lectual leadership, and of his puissant genius and beautiful and 
 thorough method of dramatic art, was more than justified by 
 his impersonation of Louis XI., given yesterday afternoon, be- 
 fore an audience mainly composed of actors, at the Star Theatre. 
 He has not, since the remarkable occasion of his first advent in 
 America, acted with such a noble affluence of power as he dis- 
 played in this splendid and wonderful effort. It was not only 
 an expression, most vivid and profound, of the intricate, grisly, 
 and terrible nature of King Louis ; it was a disclosure of the 
 manifold artistic resources, the fine intuition, the repose, and the 
 
no Impressions of A merica. 
 
 Nothing could be more satisfactory to Mr. Irving 
 and to his friends, after the demonstrative applause 
 of this very remarkable audience, than the " Inter- 
 views " of many of the best-known actors and actresses 
 which appeared in the Herald on the following morn- 
 ing. Irving had no idea that such a tribute was to 
 be paid to him when, in talking with some gentlemen 
 of the press, at the close of the play, he said, 
 
 11 1 never played before such an audience, so spon- 
 taneous in its appreciation and applause, and it will 
 remain with me as one of the most interesting and 
 most memorable events in my dramatic career. It is 
 very commonly said that actors are the worst judges 
 of acting. But I would ask why should actors be 
 worse judges of their art than painters of paintings, 
 or musicians of music ? " 
 
 11 Your audience was very enthusiastic, was it not ? " 
 
 " It could not well have been more so. You see 
 actors know well from experience that an actor, to be 
 stimulated, needs applause, and plenty of it. Applause 
 is as necessary to an actor as to an orator. The 
 greater the applause the more enthusiasm the actor 
 
 commanding intellectual energy of the actor himself. An intel- 
 lectual audience eager, alert, responsive, quick to see the 
 intention almost before it was suggested, and to recognize each 
 and every point, however subtle and delicate, of the actor's art 
 seemed to awaken all his latent fire, and nerve him to a free 
 and bounteous utterance of his own spirit ; and every sensitive 
 mind in that numerous and brilliant throng most assuredly felt 
 the presence of a royal nature, and a great artist in acting. 
 Up >n Mr. Irving's first entrance the applause of welcome was 
 prodigious, and it was long before it died away. More than one 
 scene was interrupted by^ the uncontrollable enthusiasm of the 
 house, and eight times in the course of the performance Mr. 
 Irving was called back upon the scene. A kindred enthusiasm 
 was communicated to the other actors, and an unusual spirit of 
 emulation pervaded the entire company and representation. 
 . . . . At the close there was a tumult of applause, and the 
 expectation seemed eager and general that Mr. Irving would 
 personally address the assembly. He retired, however, with a 
 bow of farewell. ' Louis XI.' will be repeated to-night." The 
 Tribune, November 21. 
 
" Red Letter Days" 1 1 1 
 
 puts into his work. Therefore those who applaud 
 most get most, and consequently my audience of this 
 afternoon " 
 
 " Got the most out of your performance ? " 
 
 " Well, they certainly excited me so that I felt the 
 effect of their appreciation on my own work. I felt an 
 elation for them, and an elation such as I have rarely 
 experienced. I happened to walk into Mr. Millais' 
 studio before leaving England. He had just finished 
 a painting in which I was interested in fact, it was a 
 portrait of myself. I found him in an extraordinarily 
 cheerful mood. He clapped his hands with delight, 
 as he said, pointing to the portrait, ' Watts has just 
 been here, and says it is the best thing I have ever 
 done/ Millais was especially pleased, for this compli- 
 ment came from a brother artist. I dare say you will 
 see the parallel in this my especial pleasure in re- 
 ceiving the plaudits of my brother artists." 
 
 " And how did the audience differ from the audiences 
 you have been playing to here ? " 
 
 " This is the distinction, I think, actors applaud 
 all the touches as you put them on ; a general audience 
 applaud the whole effect when made. And so it was 
 that all the little asides and touches of by-play this 
 afternoon were taken with as keen an appreciation of 
 them as of the whole effect of any scene or situation. 
 I felt that my audience thoroughly knew what they 
 were applauding for. I felt that they applauded my- 
 self and our company because they were really 
 pleased, and I will say again that my first professional 
 matinee has proved to be one of the pleasantest events 
 of my life/' 
 
 "It was a great performance," said Mr. Edward 
 Gilmore, one of the managers of Niblo's Garden. " I 
 have seen a good deal of acting," said Mrs. Agnes 
 Booth ; " but I can honestly say I have never seen 
 anything that pleased me more : it was simply 
 perfect." 
 
 " I have seen most of the performances in Europe of 
 
H2 Imp ressions of A merle a . 
 
 recent times/ 5 said Mdme. Cottrelly, who had been a 
 leading German actress and manager before appearing 
 on the Casino stage ; " but I have never seen anything 
 that equalled Mr. Irving's performance this afternoon. 
 I have never seen anything in the theatrical line that 
 has been mounted more correctly. It has not been 
 surpassed in the finest German Court theatres that I 
 have attended/' 
 
 " I think it is altogether one of the greatest per- 
 formances the American public and profession have 
 ever seen/' said Mr. Dan Harkins. " The wonderful 
 perfection of detail and subtlety of by-play is, I think, 
 greater than I have seen in any other performance, 
 excepting, perhaps, Mr. Forrest's ' King Lear/ Mr. 
 Irving also is in a constant state of activity ; when he 
 is not talking he is acting. He is making some clever 
 point all the time. The whole performance is great. 
 It is great in the leading character, great in all that 
 is subordinate to it, which, by an excellent stage 
 management and a fine company, are brought into 
 unusual prominence." 
 
 Mr. McCaull remarked : " It's a long way the finest 
 piece of character-acting I have ever seen. Of 
 course, I'm a young man, and haven't seen much; but 
 I've seen Mr. Irving twice in this part, and when I go 
 to see a performance out of my own theatre 
 twice, I can tell you that, in my opinion, it must be a 
 very fine one." 
 
 " I am very familiar with { Louis XI.,' " said Mr. 
 Harry Edwards, "as I have played in it myself a 
 great deal. I appeared as Nemours with Mr. Gusta- 
 vus V. Brooke, and his performance of Louis XI. 
 was a very fine one. I then travelled for a year 
 with Charles Kean, and played Courtier, the Physi- 
 cian, in ' Louis XL/ and once appeared with Kean as 
 Courtier. I also played Nemours with Charles Coul- 
 dock. Well, I say all this to show you that I am 
 pretty familiar with the play, and with great actors 
 who have played ' Louis XI.' Mr. Irving's Louis is one 
 
" Red Letter Days" 1 1 3 
 
 of the greatest performances I have ever seen as a 
 whole, and far superior to that of any of his prede- 
 cessors. He brings depth, more intensity, and more 
 variety to the character than any of them. His facial 
 action is something wonderful. His performance 
 stands on the highest plane of dramatic excellence, 
 and on the same plane as Macready's famous Werner. 
 I may say that I am not an admirer of Mr. Irving in 
 all parts, but his Louis is unapproachable. I never 
 enjoyed a performance so much in my life, and I felfc 
 that I could sit it out for a week if I were given the 
 opportunity/' 
 
 "He is the greatest actor who speaks the English 
 language/' said Mr. Lewis Morrison. " I claim to 
 know what good acting is. I have supported Salvini, 
 whom I regard as the greatest artist on the foreign 
 stage, and my preceptor was Edwin Booth. But even 
 in Mr. Booth's presence I must say that I have been 
 moved to-day as I never was before. I am not given 
 to gushing over an actor ; but I never before saw a 
 man's soul as I did in King Louis this afternoon. It 
 was simply perfection. It was not the actor ; it was 
 Louis XI. that I saw. I must admit that I went to 
 the theatre with a little prejudice against Mr. Irving. 
 I had never seen him, and, from certain things which 
 other actors had told me, I was prepared to find an 
 over-rated man. But what a performance it was ! It 
 was wonderful ! wonderful ! " 
 
 " As a manager," said Mr. Palmer, of the Union 
 Square Theatre, " it was a revelation to me to see such 
 conscientious attention to detail. Every little thing 
 in which good stage management could have been ex- 
 hibited was shown by Mr. Irving' s company. They 
 worked as one man. I have heard but one opinion 
 among members of our company, everybody was 
 delighted." 
 
 " What can I say that is strong enough ? " ex- 
 claimed Miss Gary, of the Union Square Theatre 
 company. " I was delighted beyond measure. What 
 
 I 
 
H4 Impressions of A merica . 
 
 a wonderful teacher Irving must be, and what a master 
 of his art in every way ! What impressed me par- 
 ticularly was the perfect harmony of the entire per- 
 formance. How carefully and patiently everybody 
 must have been drilled, and every detail which would 
 add to the effect looked after ! " 
 
 " I have only one word to say on this subject," said 
 Mr. John Gilbert, " and that is, that it is wonderful ; 
 perhaps I, however, may supplement that by saying 
 that it is ' extraordinary/ I have seen Mr. Irving 
 play * Louis XL* before to-day, and, in fact, I have 
 attended nearly all his performances at the Star 
 Theatre; but this afternoon he exceeded anything 
 that he has done here before. He was clearly moved, 
 in no slight degree, by the almost incessant applause 
 of his professional brethren. I don't know that I 
 remember having seen a greater performance by any 
 actor, not even excepting Macready's Werner. I am 
 not astonished at Mr. Irving' s great popularity in 
 England. I am sure he deserves it." 
 
 Mrs. G. H. Gilbert, of Daly's theatre, thought that 
 it was the finest performance within her experience. 
 " In the confession scene/' she said, " I thought him 
 especially remarkable. I had seen him in ' The 
 Lyons Mail' in London, and, now that I have 
 seen his Louis XL, I want to see him in all his 
 characters. The great applause that was given him 
 by the vast gathering of his profession was, I 
 assure you, not complimentary applause, but ife 
 was given in pure admiration of his great achieve- 
 ments. 
 
 "Mr. Irving's Louis," said Mr. Dan Frohman, " is 
 a vivid and powerful transcript from history. Once 
 or twice, at the end of an act, he lapsed into his 
 natural voice ; but this may be excused from the great 
 draught that such a character must make upon his 
 strength. As a picture of the subtle, crafty, and 
 avaricious old monarch, his representation was abso- 
 lutely perfect. I think Mr. Irving's Louis XL, in a 
 
" Red Letter Days:' 1 1 5 
 
 word, is a sort of dramatic liberal education. Every 
 actor can learn something from him. I wish our 
 actors could keep the integrity of their characters as 
 perfectly as Mr. Irving does." 
 
 " Mr. Irving is the greatest actor I have ever seen/' 
 said Mr. Tony Pastor. "I have been to see him 
 several times, and this is my opinion. It ain't bun- 
 combe. It comes from the heart. I've seen all the 
 greatest actors, and have been a great deal to the 
 theatres since I have been in this business; but I have 
 never seen any one as good as Mr. Irving. This is a 
 compliment I am paying to a man I am not personally 
 acquainted with, and perhaps we shall never meet." 
 
 " Mr. Irving' s Louis," Mr. Colville said, <c is superior 
 beyond criticism. It is the most perfect performance 
 I have ever witnessed. I was acting manager of the 
 old Broadway Theatre when Charles Kean played 
 there, and, of course, saw him in the part. 1 " 
 
 in. 
 
 " IF one had arranged events in America to one's own 
 liking one could not have had them go along more 
 pleasantly," said Irving, one Sunday afternoon, when 
 he was giving me an account of his visit to Mr. Henry 
 Ward Beecher and Mrs. Beecher, at Brooklyn ; " in- 
 deed one would have had to lay in a stock of vanity 
 to even dream of such a reception as we have had. It 
 needs a little hostility here and there in the press at 
 home and on this side to give a wholesome flavour 
 to the sweets. It is a great reward, all this, for one's 
 labour. I was struck the other day with some pas- 
 sages of Emerson, in his essay on Fate, where he 
 says, ' Concentration is the secret of strength in 
 politics, in war, in trade ; in short, in all management 
 of human affairs. One of the high anecdotes of the 
 world is the reply of Newton to the inquiry, how 
 he had "been able to achieve his discoveries :" " By 
 always intending my mind." Diligence passe sens, 
 Henry VIII. was wont to say, or, ' Great is drill.' 
 
 I 2 
 
1 1 6 Impressions of A merica . 
 
 John Kemble said that the worst provincial company 
 of actors would go through a play better than the best 
 amateur company. No genius can recite a ballad at 
 first reading so well as mediocrity can at the fifteenth 
 or twentieth reading. A humorous friend of mine 
 thinks the reason Nature is so perfect in her art, and 
 gets up such inconceivably fine sunsets, is, that f she 
 has learned at last by dint of doing the same thing 
 so very often/ A wonderful writer, Emerson ! He 
 gives the right cue to all stage managers, rehearsal ! 
 rehearsal ! Mr. Beecher has evidently been a hard 
 worker all his life, a persistent man ; and nothing is 
 done without it. First lay down your lines ; settle 
 what you mean to do, what you find you can do, and 
 do it ; the greater the opposition the more courageous 
 and persevering you must be ; and if you are right, and 
 strength and life hold out, you must win. But I want 
 to tell you about the visit to Brooklyn. Miss Terry 
 and I were invited to visit Mr. Henry Ward Beecher. 
 We went on Sunday to his church. He preached a 
 good, stirring sermon, full of strong common-sense. 
 It was what might, in some respects, be called an 
 old-fashioned sermon, though it was also exceedingly 
 liberal. The spirit of its teaching was the doctrine of 
 brotherly love. The preacher told his congregation 
 that a man was not simply a follower of Christ, because 
 he went to church on Sundays. A man could, he said, 
 be a follower of the Saviour without going to church 
 at all. He could also be a follower of Christ if he 
 wished, and belong to any church he liked, Baptist, 
 Wesleyan, Lutheran. A Pagan could be a follower of 
 Christ if he lived up to His doctrine of charity. To 
 do good is the chief end and aim of a good life. It 
 was an extemporaneous sermon so far as the absence 
 of manuscript or notes went, and was delivered with 
 masterful point and vigour, and with some touches of 
 pure comedy Mr. Beecher is a great comedian. 
 After the service he came to us, and offered his 
 arm to Miss Terry. She took one arm, his wife the 
 other. I followed with his son and several other rela- 
 
" Red Letter Days." 1 1 7 
 
 tions. A few members of the congregation joined the 
 little procession. Following Mr. Beecher and the 
 ladies, we walked down the aisle and into the street, 
 to his house. There was something very simple and 
 dignified about the whole business, something that to 
 me smacked of the primitive churches, without their 
 austerity. Mrs. Beecher is seventy-one years of age ; 
 a perfect gentlewoman, Quaker-like in her dress and 
 manners, gentle of speech, but with a certain sugges- 
 tion of firmness of purpose. Beecher struck me as a 
 strong, robust, genial, human man, a broad, big 
 fellow. We had dinner, the early dinner that was 
 in vogue when I was a boy. It was, I should say, a 
 regular solid New England meal, rich soup, plenty 
 of fish, a joint of beef; and some generous port was on 
 the table. The host was most pleasant and simple, 
 the hostess most unsophisticated and kindly. She took 
 greatly to Miss Terry, who also took greatly to her." 
 
 " Mr. Beecher had been at the theatre the night 
 before ? " 
 
 " Yes, to see < Louis XI.' " 
 
 " Did he talk much ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, and his conversation was most interest- 
 ing. He related, and very graphically, an incident of 
 the troubled times before the abolition of slavery. 
 1 One day in the pulpit/ he said, * I asked my people, 
 suppose you had a sister, and she came to you and 
 said, ( I would like to stay in your city of Brooklyn ; 
 I think I would be very happy here ; but I must go 
 away, I cannot stay ; I must depart, probably to live 
 with a reprobate, some hard, cruel man, who will lay 
 claim to me, body and soul/ You say, ' Why, why 
 must you go ? ' She answers, f Because my body 
 is worth so much, and I am to be sold ; and my little 
 child it, too, is of value in the same way my child 
 will be sold, and we shall be separated/ There was 
 a dead silence in the church. * My friends/ I said, 
 ' you have a sister in that position ; and I want you to 
 buy that woman ! ' f Come up here, Dinah Cullum ' 
 (or whatever her name was), I said, and out of the 
 
1 1 8 Imp ressions of A merica . 
 
 congregation stepped a beautiful woman, a mulatto, 
 and I said, f Here she is ; here is my sister, your 
 sister ! ' The collecting basket was sent around. 
 More than enough was realized to buy the woman. 
 And I said to her, ( Dinah Cullum, you are free/ 
 Then addressing my people again, I said, f Now you 
 can buy the child/ and they did, and we gave the child 
 to its mother ! " 
 
 " It used to be said of Lord Beaconsfield," Irving 
 continued, " that his Oriental blood and his race in- 
 stincts gave him his fondness for jewels ; but Beecher 
 seems to have the same kind of taste. He brought 
 out from a cabinet a handful of rings, and asked me 
 which I thought Miss Terry would like best. Then 
 he took them to her, and she selected an aqua marina, 
 which he placed upon her finger, and begged her to 
 accept as a souvenir of her visit to Brooklyn. ' May 
 I?' said Miss Terry to Mrs. Beecher. 'Yes, my dear, 
 take it/ said Mrs. Beecher, and she did. It was quite 
 touching to see the two women together, so different 
 in their stations, their years, their occupations. Miss 
 Terry was the first actress Mrs. Beecher had ever 
 known. To begin with, she was very courteous ; her 
 greeting was hospitable, but not cordial. The sug- 
 gestion of coldness in her demeanour gradually 
 thawed, and at the close of the visit she took Miss 
 Terry into her arms, and the two women cried. ( One 
 touch of nature makes the whole world kin/ Human 
 sympathy, what a fine thing it is ! It is easy to 
 understand how a woman of the training and surround- 
 ings that belong to the class in which Mrs. Beecher 
 has lived might regard an actress, and especially one 
 who has made a name, and is therefore the object of 
 gossip. All the more delightful is the bit of womanly 
 sympathy that can bind together two natures which the 
 austerity of professed religionists would keep asunder." 
 
 "It is a greater triumph for the stage than you, 
 perhaps, quite appreciate, this visit to the home of a 
 popular preacher ; for, however liberal Mr. Beecher's 
 
" Red Letter Days" 1 19 
 
 sentiments may be in regard to plays and players, 
 there are members of his congregation who will not 
 approve of his going to the theatre, and who will 
 probably be horrified at his entertaining you at his 
 own home/' 
 
 " No doubt/' Irving replied. " Beech er said to me, 
 ( I wish you could come and spend a week with me 
 at my little country-house. You might leave all the 
 talking to me, if you liked. I would give you a bit 
 of a sermon now and then, and you in return should 
 give me a bit of acting. Oh, we should have a 
 pleasant time ! You could lie on your back and smoke 
 and rest. I suppose some day you will allow yourself 
 a little rest.' " 
 
 " What was the Beecher home like ? New or old, 
 characteristic of the host or not ? " 
 
 "Quite characteristic, I should say. It impressed 
 me as a home that had been gradually furnished over 
 a period of many years. That was particularly the case 
 with regard to the library. Around the walls were a 
 series of cabinets, with old china and glass in them. 
 The room nad an old English, or what I suppose would 
 be called an old New England, appearance. Books, 
 pictures, china, and a wholesome perfume of tobacco- 
 smoke. Mr. Beecher does not smoke, but his sons 
 do. 'I cannot pretend to put down these small 
 vices/ he said. ( I once tried to, I believe.' ' Oh, 
 yes/ said one of his sons, a fine fellow, f the only 
 thrashing he ever gave me was for smoking a cigar ; 
 and when the war broke out, and I went to the front, 
 the first present I received from home was a box of 
 cigars, sent to me by my father/ Altogether I was 
 deeply impressed with Beecher. A robust, fearless 
 man, I can quite understand how great he might be in 
 face of opposition. Indeed, I was witness of this on the 
 occasion of his famous platform fight at Manchester, 
 during the war. I was acting in a stock company there 
 at the time, and either in the first or last piece, I forget 
 which, I was able to go and hear him speak. The inci- 
 
I2O Impressions of America. 
 
 dent, as you know, is historical on this side of the 
 Atlantic, and it created quite a sensation in Manchester. 
 The lecture-room was packed with secessionists. 
 Beecher was attacking the South, and upholding the 
 Federal cause. The great, surging crowd hooted and 
 yelled at him. I fear I did not know much about the 
 rights or wrongs of the matter. I had my work to 
 do, and, though I watched the course of the American 
 trouble, I had no very definite views about it. But I 
 admired the American preacher. He faced his oppo- 
 nents with a calm, resolute face, stood there like a 
 rock. Whenever there was a lull in this commotion 
 he would speak, and his words were defiant. There 
 was the sound of the trumpet in them. We English 
 admire courage, worship pluck, and after a time the 
 men who had tried their hardest to shout Beecher 
 down evidently felt ashamed. There presently arose 
 cries of ' Hear him ! ' and * Fair play ! ' Beecher stood 
 there firm and defiant, and I felt my heart go out to 
 him. Once more he got a few words in. They bore 
 upon the rights of free speech, and in a little while 
 he had the floor, as they say in America, and kept it. 
 It seemed as if he were inspired. He spoke with a 
 fervid eloquence I don't think I have ever heard 
 equalled. In the end he carried the entire meeting 
 with him. The crowd evidently knew no more 
 about the real merits of the quarrel between North 
 and South than I did. They entered the hall Con- 
 federates, and left it out-and-out Federals, if one 
 should judge by the thundering cheers that broke out 
 every now and then during the remainder of Beecher' s 
 oration, and the unanimous applause that marked the 
 finish of it." 
 
 IV. 
 
 AMONG the little suppers which Irving accepted 
 after the play was a cosy entertainment given by 
 Major Frank Bond, at which a dozen gentlemen of 
 distinction in politics, science, and the army, were. 
 
" Red Letter Days" 121 
 
 present. Dr. Fordyce Barker, who was intimate with 
 Dickens, during that illustrious author's visits to 
 America, was one of the guests. He started, among 
 other subjects, a very interesting conversation. 
 
 " Have you ever made studies of deaths for stage 
 purposes ? " asked Dr. Barker. 
 
 "No." 
 
 " And yet your last moments of Mathias and of 
 Louis XI. are perfectly consistent and correct psycho- 
 logically." 
 
 " My idea is to make death in these cases a charac- 
 teristic Nemesis; for example, Mathias dies of the fear 
 of discovery ; he is fatally haunted by the dread of 
 being found out, a-nd dies of it in a dream. Louis 
 pulls himself together by a great effort of will in his 
 weakest physical moment, to fall dead struck as if 
 by a thunderbolt while giving an arrogant command 
 that is to control heaven itself; and it seems to me 
 that he should collapse ignominiously, as I try to 
 illustrate." 
 
 " You succeed perfectly," the doctor replied, " and 
 from a physiological point of view, too." 
 
 " Hamlet's death, on the other hand, I would try 
 to make sweet and gentle as the character, as if the 
 ' flights of angels winged him to his rest/ " 
 
 " You seem to have a genius for fathoming the con- 
 ceptions of your authors, Mr. Irving," said the doctor; 
 " and it is, of course, very important to the illusion of 
 a scene that the reality of it should be consistently main- 
 tained. Last night I went to see a play called c Moths,' 
 at W attack's. There is a young man in it who acts 
 very well ; but he, probably by the fault of the author 
 more than his own, commits a grave error in the 
 manner of his death. We are told that he is shot 
 through the lungs. This means almost immediate 
 unconsciousness, and a quick, painless death ; yet the 
 actor in question came upon the stage after receiving 
 this fatal wound, made a coherent speech, and died in 
 a peaceful attitude." 
 
122 Impressions of A merica . 
 
 " Talking of interesting psychological investiga- 
 tions/' said Irving, " I came upon a curious story, the 
 other day, of the execution of Dr. de la Pommerais, in 
 1864. He was a poisoner, somewhat after the Palmer 
 type. I was present, then a boy, during the trial of 
 the English murderer, and was, therefore, all the more 
 interested in the last hours of the Frenchman. He 
 was a skilled physician, it seems, and a surgeon named 
 Velpeau visited him in his prison, the night before his 
 execution, in the pure interest of physiological science. 
 ' I need not tell you/ he said to De la Pommerais, 
 'that one of the most interesting questions in this 
 connection is, whether any ray of memory or sensibi- 
 lity survives in the brain of a man after his head is 
 severed from his body/ The condemned man turned 
 a startled and anxious face to the surgeon. ' You are 
 to die ; nothing, it seems, can save you. Will you not, 
 therefore, utilize your death in the interest of science ? ' 
 Professional instinct mastered physical fear, and De la 
 Pommerais said, ' I will, my friend ; I will/ Velpeau 
 then sat down, and the two discussed and arranged the 
 proposed experiment. 'When the knife falls/ said 
 Velpeau, ' I shall be standing at your side, and your 
 head will at once pass from the executioner's hands 
 into mine. I will then cry distinctly into your ear : 
 'Count de la Pommerais, can you at this moment 
 thrice lower the lid of your right eye while the left 
 remains open ? ' The next day, when the great 
 surgeon reached the condemned cell, he found the 
 doomed man practising the sign agreed upon. A few 
 minutes later the guillotine had done its work, the 
 head was in Velpeau's hands, and the question put. 
 Familiar as he was with the most shocking scenes, it 
 is said that Velpeau was almost frozen with terror as 
 he saw the right lid fall, while the other eye looked 
 fixedly at him. ' Again ! ' he cried frantically. The 
 lids moved, but they did not part. It was all over. 
 A ghastly story. One hopes it may not be true." 
 
A Quiet Evening. 123 
 
 VIII. 
 A QUIET EVENING. -> 
 
 A first Visit behind the Scenes Cooper and Kean The 
 University Club A very notable Dinner Chief Justice 
 Davis and Lord Chief Justice Coleridge A Menu worth 
 discussing Terrapin and canvas-back Duck " A little 
 Family Party " Florence's Romance Among the Lambs 
 The Fate of a Manuscript Speech A Story of John 
 Kemble Words of Welcome Last Night of the New 
 York Engagement Au revoir ! 
 
 I. 
 
 " TURN the gas down a little." 
 
 " Yes, sir/' said the attentive Irish- American waiter 
 at the Brevoort House. 
 
 " And don't let us be disturbed/' 
 
 "Very well, sir." 
 
 " The fire-light glows on the walls as if the so-called 
 volcanic sunset had taken possession of the place/' 
 said Irving, stretching his legs upon the hearth; " what 
 a rest it is to sit and talk to a friend and look into the 
 fire ! " 
 
 " It is, indeed. Let us have a chat in that spirit 
 and call the chapter ' A quiet evening.' " 
 
 ' ' You mean a talk for the book ? " 
 
 :f Yes ; one gets so few opportunities of this kind 
 that it is worth while to avail ourselves of the present 
 one. I think you had better tell me what you have 
 done in New York, and I will chronicle it from your 
 own lips." 
 
 " Do you mean generally, or in detail ? There 
 
124 Impressions of America. 
 
 are some things that fix themselves in one's memory, 
 not to be forgotten. Of course, the first night 
 at the Star Theatre one is not likely to forget 
 that ! 
 
 " No, I shall always remember you standing in the 
 door-way of the burgomaster's inn. It had seemed as if 
 hours were passing between the rise of the curtain and 
 your appearance ! " 
 
 "Ah, I dare say; we were all more or less 
 anxious." 
 
 " But let us get away from the theatre. What do 
 you look back upon so far, to remember with special 
 pleasure, in the way of social entertainment and 
 American hospitalities ? " 
 
 " It is difficult to select, is it not? It is bewildering 
 to try to select the incidents. The Lotos dinner, 
 that was glorious, eh ! How well Whiteiaw Reid 
 spoke ! and Mr. Depew, Dr. Macdonald, General 
 Porter, Mr. Oakey Hall, everybody, in fact. A 
 great gift to be able to express your thoughts well, 
 standing up in the presence of others ! Then the 
 Lambs Club. I felt their reception as a very pleasant 
 thing, because there were so many actors present. I 
 think I got well out of the speech-making there by 
 adopting Florence's written oration. That amused me 
 greatly, and I think Florence enjoyed it as much as 
 the others. Well, those are two of the New York 
 events. I am endeavouring to think of them in their 
 order, categorically. The breakfast which Mr. Joseph 
 Harper gave me at the University Club, what a rare 
 lot of men ! Mr. George William Curtis l struck me 
 as one who might be very eloquent as a speaker/' 
 
 1 On a later occasion Mr. Curtis (whose eloquence on the 
 platform and in the press, and whose independent career in 
 politics, are familiar to all Americans and to many English) 
 and Mr. Joseph Harper bad a box to see " The Merchant of 
 Venice." Irving invited them to go behind the scenes, and 
 afterwards to join him at supper in his room at the Brevoort. 
 Mr. Curtis said it was the first time he had been on that side 
 of the footlights. " I am not sure whether I regret it or not ; 
 
A Quiet Evening. 125 
 
 "He is." 
 
 " So I should have thought, and he talks of the 
 stage with the unsophistication of one who knows 
 nothing about it mechanically, but is full of the romantic 
 and poetic spirit of it. Let me see, it was at Franklin 
 Square where we saw that modern Dutch interior/'' 
 
 " The private room at Harpers and Brothers ? " 
 
 "Yes, and where we again met Mr. Curtis, Mr. 
 Alden, the editor of the magazine, and Mr. Conant of 
 The Weekly, I remember. Don't you think that when. 
 America once takes up the work of a complete repre- 
 sentation of legitimate and established plays, she will 
 
 I think I am sorry to have the illusion of that last lovely scene 
 at Belmont set aside even for a moment." While he was 
 talking to Miss Terry in her dress as the Lady of Belmont, 
 Loveday's men were bringing on some of the scenery of " The 
 Lyons Mail." Said Harper, " Behind the scenes is always to 
 me a good deal like the 'tween decks of a ship; the discipline is 
 just as strict, too." During the evening, after supper, Mr. 
 Curtis discussed with his host the question of how much an 
 actor may lose himself in a part, and still have full control over 
 it and himself. Irving said circumstances sometimes influenced 
 an actor. An event which had disturbed him during the day 
 might give extra colour to his acting at night. In fact an actor 
 is influenced by all sorts of causes, as all other people are in 
 their daily work, by health or weather. Sometimes the 
 presence of a friend in front, or some current occurrence of the 
 moment, or piece of bad or good news, might influence him; 
 but, as a rule, after an actor had played a particular part for a 
 long time, he generally played it very much in the same way 
 every night. " There is a story," he said, " of Kean and Cooper 
 which is to the purpose. A friend met Kean, and told him that 
 on a particular night he was at the theatre, and thought that 
 Kean played Othello better than ever he had seen him play it. 
 * Gad, sir,' he said, ' I thought you would have strangled lago 
 outright ! ' Now we come to the solution of this extra energy 
 which had impressed Kean's friend. ' Oh, yes,' said Kean ; 
 'it was a Tuesday night, I remember; Cooper tried to get me 
 out of the focus ! ' In those days the theatre was lighted with 
 oil lamps, and only at one particular place on the stage could 
 the actors be seen. To be in the light was to be in the focus ; 
 a,nd that accounts for the old habit they had of getting into a 
 line along the footlights." 
 
126 Impressions of A merica . 
 
 go ahead at it as fast as she has done in the production 
 of book-engravings ? " 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " And they tell me actors tell me that they have 
 never had Shakespeare as completely and as worthily 
 represented as at the Star this week. Mr. Gilbert 
 says it will work a revolution in dramatic art in this 
 country." 
 
 " The papers are beginning to say so all round." 
 
 " I confess I am as surprised as I am delighted. I 
 thought more had been done in the way of harmonious 
 representation, grouping, colour, painting, lighting, 
 than is evidently the case. By the way, I heard a 
 good deal about this on the night of the Century Club 
 reception. They were very like Garrick men, many 
 of them. An excellent idea having an exhibition of 
 pictures at a club ! I suppose it would hardly do in 
 London to allow members such a margin in regard to 
 the friends they introduce as in New York. I wish it 
 could be done, and, especially, that granting of the 
 entire privileges of the club to the stranger whom you 
 invite to dinner. In case of transient membership, the 
 compliment we pay to a stranger at the Garrick does 
 include all the privileges of the club. The Manhattan 
 is a cosy club. We got our first canvas-back in New 
 York there. It was a little too early in the season; 
 but in the way of a terrapin and canvas-back dinner 
 the feast Buck gave us at Sieghortner's was a triumph. 
 
 2 This was a very notable gathering on November 18. In 
 nearly every case the guests came from long distances. They 
 were all men of distinction in their several walks of life. Among 
 them were, James H. Rutter, President New York Central and 
 Hudson River Railway ; Hon. Noah Davis, Chief Justice 
 Supreme Court, State of New York ; Geo. R. Blanch ard, Vice- 
 President New York, Lake Erie, and Western Railway ; Gen. 
 Horace Porter, President New York, West Shore, and Buffalo 
 Railway ; John B. Carson, Vice-President and General Manager 
 Hannibal and St. Joseph Railway, Hannibal, Mo. ; Col. P. S. 
 Michie, U.S. Army, West Point ; Hon. A. J. Vanderpoel, New 
 York; Hon. Wm. Dorsheimer, Member of Congress and ex- 
 
A Quiet Evening. 127 
 
 It scored by its simplicity. Let me see, I have the 
 menu here. Now to look at it, in comparison with what 
 
 Lieut.- Governor New York ; Col. L. M. Dayton, Gen. Sherman's 
 Chief of Staff during the war, Cincinnati, O. ; Jas. N. Matthews, 
 Proprietor Buffalo Express, Buffalo, N.Y. ; Hon. Henry 
 Watterson, ex-M.C. and editor Courier Journal, Louisville, Ky. ; 
 Col. Wm. V. Hatchings, Governor's Staff, Boston, Mass. ; Col. 
 H. G. Pa.rker, Proprietor Saturday Evening Gazette, Boston, 
 Mass. ; Col. Wm. Edwards, Cleveland, 0. ; Hon. L. I. Powers, 
 Springfield, Mass.; Hon. M. P. Bush, Buffalo, N.Y.; John B. 
 Lyon, Chicago, 111. ; Hon. A. Oakey Hall, ex-Mayor of New 
 York City; Lord Bury, W. J. Florence, William Winter, 
 Stephen Fiske, J. H. French, and Chas. Wyndham. The 
 dinner was not reported in the press ; nor were several other 
 entertainments which are briefly sketched in the pages of these 
 " Impressions." 
 
 The Chief Justice spoke in eloqnent terms of Lord Coleridge, 
 whom the American bar and bench had been proud to honour, 
 and who, in his private and public life, realized the highest ideal 
 of the American people. " It is our desire," he said, " the 
 sincerest wish of America, to like the English people. We are 
 always afraid that our visitors from the old country will not let 
 us like them. When they do, and we can honestly respond, we 
 are glad." Presently, alluding to Irving, he said, " We have 
 watched your career over a long period of time, through the 
 New York papers. We were prepared to be interested in you, 
 and to bid you welcome. No people are more moved than ours 
 to exercise their free and unbiased judgment. We have done so 
 in your case, and are proud to acknowledge the greatness of the 
 work you have done ; to welcome you, and to take your hand, 
 not only for what you have achieved in England, but for what 
 you have done for us in America." 
 
 Ex-Mayor Oakey Hall, in the course of some remarks sup- 
 plementary of the speech of the Lord Chief Justice, said, " A 
 morning cable despatch informs me that the Millais portrait of 
 pur guest was yesterday added to the walls of the Garrick Club, 
 in completion of its gallery of David Garrick's legitimate 
 successors. But on the walls of our memories to-night has 
 been hung the original, impressive features, poetic eyes and 
 hair, and a face so bright that it this moment reflects our looks 
 of personal affection. I have had the personal felicity, thrice 
 within the past fortnight, of seeing our guest in the serenity of 
 private life. Friends knowing this have said to me, ' How did 
 you like Henry Irving on the stage ? ' And I have answered, 
 * I have not yet seen Mr. Irving act.' True, I had seen, on the 
 stage of the Star Theatre, Mathias, and Charles the First, and 
 
128 Impressions of America. 
 
 is called a swell dinner, some people would think its 
 dishes wanting in variety and number. Somebody, I 
 
 Louis the Eleventh, and Shylock, and Duboscq and Lesergne, 
 and against these characters I had seen printed on the bills of 
 the play the name of Henry Irving ; but never had it otherwise 
 occurred to me, as an auditor, that the guest now before us, 
 original of the Millais picture, and whom I saw at the banquets 
 of the Lotos and Manhattan clubs, was representing these 
 characters. On the contrary, I cannot connect Henry Irving, 
 the gentleman of private life, with the actor. If you say he is 
 the same, I must believe you. Indeed, I am now conscious of 
 having lived in the seventeenth century, and of having beheld 
 the veritable Charles as a man caressing his children and his 
 Henrietta Maria, a wife rather than a queen, on the banks of 
 the Thames, at Hampton Court, or as Majesty rebuking Oliver 
 Cromwell. Nay, I have stood with Charles himself in the 
 Whitehall Chamber of Death, and with my own streaming eyes 
 I have witnessed his touching farewell of home and earth. I 
 have forgotten the merchants of New York in the boxes, and I 
 have really seen Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice. I have 
 seen the dreaming victim of remorse. I have lived in the war- 
 rent realms of France, while Louis the Eleventh infected his 
 court with his own moral leprosy. I have known in ' The Lyons 
 Mail' the self-respecting and shrinking merchant, and I have 
 known his double, the besotted brute of ,a murderer. They are 
 all realities to me at this moment. If you again tell me one man 
 personated all these, and that this one man was the original 
 yonder of the Millais portrait, I must believe you, for your 
 honour's sake. During an active career of a quarter century I 
 never had seen an approach to such a surrender of personal 
 identity in an actor, nor such a surrender of the peculiarities of 
 one representation when the actor grasped another. How all 
 this contradicts a lively writer in the current (November) 
 number of Clement Scott's Theatre, who declares that every 
 great success of the stage is due to a correspondence of the 
 natural peculiarities of an actor with the fictional peculiarities 
 of the character portrayed. Is yonder gentleman a victim to 
 remorse ? Is he a Shylock ? Is he a Duboscq P Has he the 
 soul of a Charles? Least of all, has he one peculiarity of 
 Louis ? No. Then these great successes are won if yonder 
 guest be the actor by a destruction of personal peculiarities 
 and by portraying his own precise opposites, in his human 
 nature. You have all seen these recently enacted characters. 
 You now some of you for the first time behold the man 
 Henry Irving, and hear him converse. To you a,s a jury, 
 then, I appeal. Am I not right? Is not my experience 
 yours ? " (Ay ! Yes ! Yes ! and great applause.) 
 
A Quiet Evening. 129 
 
 remember, said at the time, ' This is a man's dinner ! 
 Let us dissect it ! ' 
 
 He had fetched the menu from his table, had returned 
 to his seat by the fire, and was holding the carte before 
 his face, partly to read it, and partly to ward off the 
 glow of the hot coal. 
 
 " Now, first, oysters on the half shell, and I noticed 
 they were on the half shell. That is the proper way 
 to serve an oyster, and they should be in their own 
 liquor. 3 They were lying on a bed of crushed ice, 
 did you notice ? The dainty half of a lemon was 
 placed in the centre of them. Shall you include this 
 conversation in the book ? " 
 
 This last question he asked suddenly. 
 
 " Oh, yes ; I think it will be very interesting." 
 
 " Then they will say I am a gourmand." 4 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 8 " Bathed in their own liquor." Sir Henry Thompson. 
 
 4 Tn case this charge against Irving should be exploited by the 
 " little English correspondent " who undertakes to describe his 
 " Palace on the Thames," let me say that, for one who talks so 
 well about eating, Irving next to a great authority on gourman- 
 dise recently dead, alas ! is the most moderate diner I know. 
 He discourses of dishes with the eloquence of Brillat Savarin, 
 and eats as frugally as the " Original Walker " did, and is as 
 easily contented as was my late friend Blanchard Jerrold 
 (" Fin-Bee "), who wrote so much, and always so well, about the 
 art of dining, that those who did not know him might naturally 
 have regarded him as a gourmand. He knew the literature of 
 " the table " thoroughly, but lived as simply as Irving does. It 
 will be noted that it is the simplicity of the dinner under notice 
 that awakens Irving's enthusiasm. New York, by the way, 
 has many restaurants, in addition to its most famous one (Del- 
 monico's) and the house in Lafayette Place. The Hoffman 
 House and the Brunswick are well known for their excellent 
 cuisine. Among the hotels that are equally famous for their 
 chefs are the Everett House, the Windsor, the St. James', the 
 Yictoria, and the Clarendon. The latter is to New York what 
 such establishments as Morley's and the oldest West End hotels 
 are to London. It is one of the pleasantest, and certainly the 
 quietest, of New York houses. There are very bad hotels in the 
 United States, and very good ones ; dear hotels, and hotels where 
 the charges are fair ; but the general idea of uniform excellence 
 
 K 
 
130 Impressions of A merica . 
 
 " Some of our friends in London." 
 
 He emphasized the word " friends." 
 
 " They do now ; you are reported as giving suppers 
 and banquets in London on a grander scale than ever 
 Lucullus dreamed of ! " 
 
 " Am I ? Well, I like to have my friends around 
 me ; but I think they appreciate a mutton-chop, a glass 
 of fine wine, and a good cigar as much as we do, and, 
 after all, Dr. Johnson says, ' The man who can't take 
 care of his stomach can't take care of anything else/ 
 If to be a gourmand, or, rather, let us say gourmet, 5 is to 
 enjoy a well-cooked and elegantly served little dinner 
 or supper, then I plead guilty to the soft impeach- 
 ment ; so let us go on eating the Sieghortner banquet 
 over again, just as we shall, I hope, in future years sit 
 down and re-fight our American victories by an English 
 fireside. To return to the bill of fare. Secondj soup. 
 A vegetable soup, that reminded me a little of the 
 cock-a-lflkie which is so well constructed at the Garrick 
 in London, only that the vegetable basis of it is in 
 an esculent we have not, the gumbo, or okra, which is 
 so delicious here. Sauterne with the oysters, and a 
 remarkably fine sherry with the soup. Third, terrapin. 
 I am told this came from Baltimore ready for the 
 cook." 
 
 "They are celebrated at Baltimore for the three 
 great American dishes, oysters, terrapin, and canvas- 
 
 and uniform clearness which obtains in England is incorrect. 
 One class of honses which the English traveller misses is the 
 comfortable family inn or tavern (where the landlord and land- 
 lady are always at hand), common in England, France, and 
 Germany ; and the other absent luxuries, for the lack of which 
 oysters and canvas-back ducks do not altogether compensate 
 him, are the mutton-chop, the beefsteak, the ham and bacon, 
 the sole, salmon, and bloaters of his own country. 
 
 5 " The difference between a gourmet and gourmand we take 
 
 to be this : a gourmet is he who selects, for his nice and learned 
 
 delectation, the most choice delicacies, prepared in the most 
 
 scientific manner ; whereas the gourmand bears a closer analogy 
 
 I to that class of great eaters, ill-naturedly (we dare say) denomi- 
 
 , y- nated or classed with aldermen." Haywfjd's Art of Mini 
 
A Quiet Evening. 131 
 
 back ducks. Terrapin is prepared there and shipped to 
 all parts of the United States, and even to Europe. I 
 am told that a Baltimore firm sends in the season 
 supplies of terrapin and canvas-backs to England for 
 the table of the Prince of Wales." 
 
 " Indeed/' he answers, " his Koyal Highness knows 
 what is good ! I wish he could have tasted the Balti- 
 more terrapin at Sieghortner's. Buck is a friend of the 
 Duke of Beaufort, and the Duke, they say, is up to all 
 the luxurious tricks of American cooking. 
 
 " Now we are at the terrapin. It was handed round 
 very hot, and, as your plate was removed, a fresh sup- 
 ply, better still, it seemed to me, was placed before you. 
 It is polite to ask for terrapin twice ; but, that no one 
 might be embarrassed, it was served twice. Champagne 
 and Burgundy with the terrapin. I prefer champagne. 
 'Next to going to heaven/ said a friend near me, 
 
 ' is to go down to , Baltimore, and eat terrapin/ 
 
 Fourth, canvas-back duck. An entire breast of the 
 bird on each plate. A chip-potato and a little celery ; 
 you should eat nothing else with a canvas-back duck, 
 though some persons, I observe, take currant or cran- 
 berry jelly with it. As in the case of the terrapin, 
 there were two courses of duck, the first, roast ; the 
 second, grilled and devilled. An excellent notion this. 
 A souffle followed ; then cheese j then coffee. That 
 was the dinner ; and it was one of the greatest suc- 
 cesses I remember, in the way of dining ; though I do 
 not forget how perfectly we had terrapin and canvas- 
 back cooked in our own humble little kitchen at the 
 Lyceum Theatre. " 
 
 " In responding to the toast of your health, you were 
 very much moved ? " 
 
 " I was. Chief Justice Davis supplemented the 
 host's words so eloquently, and with so much heart and 
 earnestness, that he touched me deeply. Then his re- 
 ferences to England to Lord Coleridge representing 
 the high estate of the Bench, and to myself as being 
 considered worthy in every way to represent my art, as 
 
 K 2 
 
132 Impressions of America. 
 
 he in his way is to represent his high calling and his 
 tender tributes to the old country, and to the deep, 
 sincere friendship that lies at the root of the relations 
 between England and America, this was all so sym- 
 pathetic. And when I knew that many of the men 
 around the board who cheered him so warmly had 
 come as far as a thousand miles to meet me, I could not 
 have attempted to say more than to try and thank 
 them. There are occasions when silence is the best, 
 when ' Gentlemen, I thank you ; my heart is too full to 
 say more/ is about the most eloquent speech you can 
 make. Mr. John B. Lyon came all the way from 
 Chicago in response to Buck's invitation ; Mr. John 
 B. Carson came from Quincy, a day's journey farther 
 than Chicago; he had been fifty-two hours on the 
 train ; Mr. Watterson, what a bright, witty fellow he 
 is ! came almost as far, from Louisville in the South." 
 
 n. 
 
 " THE supper given to me by Mr. Florence, at the St. 
 James* Hotel, was also an entertainment to remember. 
 Quite a little family party, was it not ? Mr. Jerome 
 Larry, as his friends call him was splendid ; and how 
 many years of local dramatic history he had at his 
 fingers' ends 1 We were quite a little family party ; 
 Gilbert, Edwards, Jefferson, God bless him ! they 
 were among the guests. Florence, if you remember, 
 had after supper a great brass urn placed upon the table, 
 sat before it, and made whisky toddy. How well actors 
 understand the art of sociability ! ' Now, friends, let 
 us gather round the tea-table/ said Florence, ' and try 
 the brew ! ' We pronounced it ' nectar for the gods/ 
 and so it was. Do you remember the interesting 
 episode of his boyish days that Florence told us ? I 
 repeated it to some people who supped here the other 
 night. It is worth printing, with his permission/' 
 
 " And that of Mrs. Florence ? " I suggest. 
 
 " Oh, yes, of course. I think I remember it. Flo- 
 rence was a very young man, a boy, in fact, and was 
 
A Quiet Evening. 133 
 
 filling one of his first engagements on any stage at the 
 Bowery Theatre. A girl about his own age (who is 
 now a wife, and a woman of position, in New York) in 
 the company, was his first love. His adoration was 
 mingled with the most gallant respect. Their salaries 
 were about ten to twelve dollars each a week. For a 
 time they only played in the first piece ; for in those 
 days two plays a night were more popular on the 
 American stage than they are now. One evening, at 
 about nine o'clock, after pulling himself together for 
 so daring an effort in his course of courtship, he asked 
 her if she would go to an adjacent restaurant and take 
 something to eat. The house was kept by a person of 
 the name of Shields, or Shiells. The supper-room 
 was arranged something after the manner of the old 
 London coffee-houses. It had compartments divided 
 off from each other. Into one of these Florence 
 escorted his sweetheart. He asked her what she would 
 take. After some hesitation, and a good deal of 
 blushing (more probably on his part than on hers), she 
 said oyster- stew and lemonade. He concluded to have 
 the same, an incongruous mixture, perhaps; but 
 they were boy and girl. Florence was more than once 
 on the eve of declaring his undying passion and asking 
 her to name the day. Presently, supper being ended, 
 they rose to go, and Florence discovered that he had 
 come away without his purse, or, rather, his pocket- 
 book, as they call it here. He explained to the Irish 
 waiter (and Florence, I suspect, is himself of Irish de- 
 scent), who cat him short by saying, ' No money ? Oh, 
 that won't do ; you're not going to damage the moral 
 character of the house, bringing of your girls here, 
 and then say you can't pay the bill.' 'How dare 
 you, sir ! ' exclaimed Florence, the girl shrinking back. 
 * Dare ! Oh, bedad, if you put it that way, I'll just 
 give you a piece of my mind ;' and he did. It was a dirty 
 piece, which hurt the poor young fellow. f Take me to 
 your master,' he said. The girl was crying; Florence 
 was heartbroken. The master was not less rude than 
 
134 Impressions of America. 
 
 the man. { Very well/ said the boy ; ' here's my watch 
 and ring. I will call and redeem them in the morning 
 with the money. I am a member of the Bowery Com- 
 pany, and I will ask the manager to call and see you 
 also. Your conduct is shameful ! ' ' By heaven, it is !' 
 exclaimed a stranger, who, with some others, was 
 smoking near the desk of the clerk, or landlord. ' It 
 is infamous ! Cannot you understand that this young 
 gentleman is a good, honest young fellow ? Damme ! 
 you ought to apologizo to him, and kick that waiter- 
 fellow out. Don't frown at me, sir. Give the young 
 gentleman his watch and ring. Here is a fifty-dollar 
 bill; take what he owes, and give me the change/ 
 The stranger was a well-dressed gentleman, with white 
 hair ; not old, but of a venerable appearance. They 
 all went out together, Florence, the young lady, and 
 their benefactor. As they stepped into the street, 
 Florence said, ' I cannot sufficiently thank you, sir. 
 Where shall I call and leave the money for you ? ' 
 ( Oh, don't trouble yourself about it/ said the benevo- 
 lent gentleman; 'your surly friend won't make much 
 out of the transaction, it was a counterfeit bill that 
 he changed for me.'' " 
 
 in. 
 
 IRVING did not expect to be called upon for a set 
 speech at the Lambs Club. The President, Mr. 
 Florence, did, and was prepared. He made no secret 
 of his nervousness, nor of his arrangements against 
 failure. The manuscript of his address was lying 
 before him during the dinner. He consulted it occa- 
 sionally, to the amusement of his neighbours. When 
 the time came he rose, his speech in his hand, his heart 
 in his mouth. The most eminent of actors have felt 
 similar sensations under the influence of an exaggerated 
 sense of the responsibility of making a public speech. 
 This banquet of the Lambs was not reported in the 
 newspapers. As in other instances where I have ven- 
 tured to annex speeches and incidents for these pages, 
 
A Quiet Evening. 135 
 
 I have done so with the full consent of all the parties 
 concerned. 
 
 fc Gentlemen/' said President Florence, " we have 
 met to-night to do honour to a brother actor, for in that 
 character do we welcome the distinguished guest of 
 the evening, an artist who has done more to elevate 
 and dignify our calling than any actor that ever trod 
 the stage." 
 
 A ringing cheer greeted these few sentences. The 
 applause evidently disturbed the speaker's memory. 
 He consulted his MS. and could make nothing of it. 
 Throwing it upon the table, he continued his address. 
 The few unstudied sentences that followed came from 
 the heart, and were sufficiently effective. They com- 
 mended Irving as an example to all of them, an 
 example of work, of unostentation, of success worthily 
 won and worn, and expressed the gratification it afforded 
 the Lambs a club largely composed of actors to 
 welcome him at their board. 
 
 " I'll never make another speech as long as I live ! " 
 exclaimed the President, as he resumed his seat. 
 
 " Give me the manuscript," said Irving. ' ' Do you 
 mind my using it ? " 
 
 " Not at all, my dear friend ; do what you like with 
 it." 
 
 Irving, rising to reply, stood up with the President's 
 unspoken speech in his hand. Referring to the diffi- 
 culties actors often experience in regard to public 
 speaking, he said, " At Edinburgh, recently, looking 
 over the old Courant, I came across an incident 
 apropos of the present occasion. It was concerning 
 a dinner given to John Kemble in that city. ' The 
 chair was taken at six o'clock by Francis Jeffrey, Esq., 
 who was most ably assisted by the croupiers, John 
 Wilson and Walter Scott/ the creator in fiction of 
 poor, old, wretched King Louis XL Walter Scott, 
 the mighty master of romance, who also proposed this 
 night ' The memory of Burns.' (Applause.) In reply 
 to the toast of his health, John Kemble said, ( I am 
 
136 Impressions of A merica . 
 
 not successful in extemporaneous delivery ; actors are 
 so much more in the habit of giving utterance to the 
 thoughts of others than in embodying their own, that 
 we are much in the same position with those animals 
 who, subsisting by the aid of others, are completely 
 lost when abandoned to their own resources.' Gentle- 
 men, brother actors, I feel that I am in a similar 
 condition to-night. (Cries of ' No ! no ! ' and laughter.) 
 But my friend, the President, has given me leave to 
 avail myself of the eloquent speech which he had 
 written, but has not read to you/' (Laughter.) 
 
 Irving looked down at the President for his final 
 consent. 
 
 " Certainly, go ahead/' was the response. 
 
 " The President/' said Irving, reading the MS. 
 amidst shouts of laughter and applause, " was anxious 
 to tell you that ' the efforts of the guest of the evening 
 have always been to make his dramatic work in every 
 way worthy the respect and admiration of those who 
 honour our art ; and at the same time he has been none 
 the less indefatigable in promoting the social and intel- 
 lectual standing of the profession ; this has been to him 
 a labour of love/ " 
 
 Irving read these lines with mock-oratorical show ; 
 but when the laughter of his hearers changed to loud 
 applause, he laid aside the written speech of his friend, 
 and in a few simple words expressed himself proud of 
 the honour the club had done him, and grateful for the 
 cordiality of its welcome. 
 
 " There is one point, however, in that speech which 
 I would like you to hear," said the President, rising 
 again, and it is this : " We are not here to pass an 
 opinion on Mr. Irving's qualities as an actor, the 
 critics have done that already ; and, if you had at first 
 any doubts as to the high position he should occupy 
 in our profession, the American critics and your own 
 judgment have removed them. Possibly it was just 
 as well that David Grarrick did not live in the White 
 Star epoch, for, had he ever crossed the Atlantic 
 
A Quiet Evening. 137 
 
 Ocean, his bones might not now be reposing so 
 peacefully under the ancient towers of Westminster 
 Abbey." 
 
 During the evening Mr. Henry Edwards/ of Wal- 
 ckX recited with stirring effect the following : 
 
 WELCOME TO HENBY IBYING. 
 
 Bound about the board of banquet 
 
 Blazed the bright wits of the town, 
 " A royal toast," and well they drank it 
 
 " 'Tis for a king to wear the crown ; 
 Thrones may totter in the tempest, 
 
 Empires, too, may rise and fall, 
 But a king, by grace of Genius, 
 
 Sits secure above them all." 
 
 Thus a grave and graceful poet, 
 
 And his glowing glass uplifts, 
 With a warm eye-flash of welcome 
 
 To the Man of Many Gifts ; 
 Then a clamour and kindly clinking 
 
 Like sudden song breaks round the board, 
 And the soul of the wine they're drinking 
 
 Seems into their own souls pour'd. 
 
 And " Huzza for our guest, King Irving," 
 
 From a hundred hearty throats, 
 And the lovingly lengthen'd greeting, 
 
 Like a chorus'd chime, up floats 
 When more swift than an earthly echo 
 
 Bursts a sound over guest and hosts, 
 Strangely shrill, yet faint and far off 
 
 " Way there for the coming ghosts ! " 
 
 Into statued silence stricken, 
 
 Stand and gaze the speechless throng, 
 While the walls slide wide from side to side, 
 
 As if moved in grooves along, 
 And a shadowy stage, whose footlights 
 
 Loom white through a weirdly mist, 
 Is peopled with phantoms of players 
 
 Trooping in as if keeping a tryst. 
 
 6 These lines were written by Mrs. Marion Fortescue, a lady 
 well known in New York society. 
 
138 Impressions of A merica. 
 
 Then with buskin'd steps and soundless, 
 
 Streaming forward as a tide, 
 Surge the serried shades of actors 
 
 Whose greatness time has testified ; 
 And their brows are bound with bay-leaves, 
 
 And their garments' phantom'd fold 
 Shape out the bygone costumes 
 
 Of the parts they play'd of old. 
 
 All the fine and famous faces 
 
 In the records of the stage, 
 Canonized in highest places 
 
 On the drama's brightest page ! 
 Their "brief hour" made eternal, 
 
 Where the deathless laurel nods, 
 And where Shakespeare reigns supernal 
 
 In the green-room of the gods ! 
 
 There, each grandly vision'd visage, 
 
 Looking through a mellow haze 
 On the spell-bound reverent watchers 
 
 With a long, fraternal gaze, 
 Whose mute and mighty meaning 
 
 Seems like a benediction cast 
 O'er the promise of the present 
 
 By the high priests of the past ! 
 
 Then, at an unseen, silent signal, 
 
 Given by some mystic chief, 
 Each of the ghosts of great ones 
 
 From his own wreath plucks a leaf, 
 And fleeter than arrow'd lightning 
 
 Through space a chaplet 's sped ! 
 And the brow of the actor living 
 
 Is laurelled by actors dead ! 
 
 And a sigh sweeps over the silence, 
 
 And the walls are walls again, 
 While the lights flash up to brightness 
 
 And sparkles the gold champagne ; 
 And the joyous voice of the Poet 
 
 Rings out the blended toasts, 
 " Huzza for our good guest, Irving ! " 
 
 And " Huzza for our grand old ghosts ! " 
 
 IV. 
 
 FOR the last night of the New York engagement the 
 programme was a novelty, in every respect, to a New 
 
A Quiet Evening. 139 
 
 York audience. Custom confines the night's enter- 
 tainment in American theatres to one piece. On 
 this occasion the play-bill contained the first act of 
 " Richard III. ;" the Lyceum version of " The Belle's 
 Stratagem ;" the, in England, well-known recitation 
 of <{ Eugene Aram ;" and Irving was also expected to 
 make a speech. The programme was played to an 
 enthusiastic audience ; and, at the close of " The 
 Belle's Stratagem/' Mr. Irving addressed them as 
 follows : 
 
 " Ladies and Gentlemen, A month ago, standing 
 before you for the first time, and stimulated by your 
 most kind welcome, I expressed the hope that our 
 loves might increase as our days did grow. You, on 
 your part, have fulfilled my dearest wishes, and I can 
 but hope that we have not disappointed you. On that 
 same first night I bespoke your good- will for my sister 
 artist, Ellen Terry. I felt sure that she would win all 
 hearts, and I believe she has. For her, for all my 
 comrades, and for myself, I thank you for your enthu- 
 siastic and generous endorsement of our work. I am 
 sorry that the time has come when I must leave you. 
 I am glad that I have not yet to say l Good-bye,' but 
 only ' An revoir. 9 In April next we shall have the 
 honour if all be well of appearing before you again, 
 and I would propose to present to you ' Much Ado 
 About Nothing ' and f Hamlet.' In my old home, on 
 the other side of the Atlantic, these plays are often 
 performed by us; and I hope they will be welcome 
 in if I may say so my new home on this side of the 
 sea. And now, ladies and gentlemen, with a grateful 
 remembrance of your kindness, I must say f Au revoir. 9 
 I find no words to adequately express my gratitude to 
 you; indeed, I would feel but little if I could say 
 how much." 
 
 Retiring for a few minutes, Irving, in evening dress, 
 returned to the stage. A chair was placed in the 
 centre of it. Now standing, now sitting, he recited 
 Hood's dramatic poem. The audience sat spell- 
 
140 Impressions of America. 
 
 bound. Even as Mathias, with the accessories of the 
 mysterious court- scene, Mr. Irving had not held New 
 York play-goers with a firmer grip. They followed 
 the grim story almost in silence. The ancient 
 mariner's narrative did not more impress the wed- 
 ding-guest. I have seen all kinds of audiences in 
 both hemispheres, and under all sorts of circumstances, 
 and never saw a theatre full of people more under the 
 control of a story. At the end the applause was loud 
 and continued for some minutes, the reciter having to 
 bow his acknowledgments again and again. The next 
 day a discriminating critic pointed out to one of 
 Irving' s few opponents, that "the pseudo critic who 
 pronounced Irving' s ' Bells ' a mere success of lime- 
 lights, properties, scenery, and stage-management," 
 had been quite extinguished "by the recitation of 
 Hood's ' Dream of Eugene Aram/ delivered in evening 
 dress, without any lime-lights, properties, scenery, or 
 stage- management. ' ' 
 
 " And/' added a journalistic writer in the Herald, 
 " aside from the artistic success Mr. Irving has made 
 here, the financial result should be considered very 
 satisfactory. The total amount received from sub- 
 scriptions and box-office sales for the four weeks' 
 engagement is $75,687. The receipts for the first 
 week were $15,772; for the second week, $18,714; 
 for the third week, $18,880; and for the week closing 
 last evening, $22,321." It has been estimated that the 
 public paid altogether, to speculators and to the box- 
 ofiice, upwards of $200,000. Judged, therefore, by 
 the financial standard of the box-office, as well as by 
 that of the highest criticism, New York's answer to 
 the London Standard was a full and complete endorse- 
 ment of the English popularity of Henry Irving and 
 Ellen Terry." 
 
 But it remained for Boston, Philadelphia, and Chi- 
 cago to pronounce upon them. The campaign was 
 only in its infancy, though the first stronghold had 
 been won. An advance was made upon Philadelphia 
 
A Quiet Evening. 141 
 
 on the day following the recitation of " Eugene Aram." 
 The reader who follows the fortunes of the campaigners 
 in these pages will find the record justified by inde- 
 pendent pens, and supported by the current chronicles 
 of the entire Union. 
 
142 Impressions of A merica. 
 
 IX. 
 AT PHILADELPHIA AND " IN CLOVER." 
 
 Rivalries of American Cities Boston and Philadelphia The 
 real and the picturesque Miss Terry's Portia "Three 
 kinds of Criticism" First appearance as Hamlet Miss 
 Terry's Ophelia Journalism and the Stage Critics, past 
 and present Philadelphia and English Cities A new style 
 of Newspaper Bogus Eeports and Interviews : an example 
 of them The Clover Club A Letter from an eminent 
 American Tragedian Presented with Forrest's Watch 
 The Macready trouble Hamlet, and an invitation from 
 Guest to Hosts. 
 
 I. 
 
 " THE rivalries between American cities," said Irving, 
 " seem to take a far more aggressive form than the 
 rivalry between England and America, or even be- 
 tween France and England ; I mean in regard to their 
 criticisms of each other, and their hostile chaff or 
 badinage in regard to each other's peculiarities/' 
 
 " Is it not very much the same in England ? " 
 
 "Perhaps/' 
 
 " Sheffield scoffs at Birmingham, Liverpool sneers 
 at Bristol, Manchester is supercilious concerning 
 London/' I said. 
 
 " And London mildly patronizes the whole of them. 
 I think you are right; but one does not notice the 
 competition at home so much, perhaps, as in America. 
 Boston and Philadelphia seem to indulge in a good 
 deal of badinage at each other's expense." 
 
 " And they are both sarcastic about the morality of 
 Chicago." 
 
" In Clover:' 143 
 
 " A Boston friend of ours/' said Irving, " was telling 
 me yesterday of a little war of words he had with a 
 Philadelphian. Said Boston to the Quaker, f Well, 
 there is one thing in which you have the best of us/ - 
 4 Glad you admit one point in our favour anyhow ; 
 what is it ? ' { You are nearer to New York than we 
 are/ Our Boston friend is fond of New York, takes 
 his holidays there ; says he likes it nearly as well as 
 London. A less subtle, but more direct, hit at Phil- 
 adelphia was that of the Bostonian, who, in reply to 
 the question of a Philadelphian, ' Why don't you lay 
 out your streets properly ? ' said, ' If they were as dead 
 as yours, we would lay them out/ " 
 
 " Looked at from a balloon," I said, " Philadelphia 
 would have the appearance of a checker-board. Bos- 
 ton, on the other hand, would present many of the 
 irregular features of an English city. Both cities are 
 eminently representative of American characteristics, 
 and both are possibly more English in their habits, 
 manners, and customs than any other cities of the 
 Union/' 
 
 "There is nothing dead about the Philadelphia 
 streets so far as I have noticed them," Irving replied. 
 " This morning I walked along Chestnut Street, and 
 thought it particularly lively and pleasant. The ab- 
 sence of the elevated railroad struck me as an advantage. 
 I felt that when walking down Broadway , in New York. 
 Then the cars in the street itself did not rush along at 
 the New York pace. These seem to me to be advan- 
 tages in their way on the side of life in Philadelphia. 
 Perhaps one feels the rest, too, of a calmer city, a 
 quieter atmosphere." 
 
 We are sitting near a front window at the Bellevue, 
 looking out upon Broad Street. Presently we are 
 joined by the interviewer, and Irving is not long 
 before he is engaged in a conversation about the 
 actor's art and his own methods. 
 
 " Every character," he says, " has its proper place 
 on the stage, and each should be developed to its 
 
144 Impressions of America. 
 
 greatest excellence, without unduly intruding upon 
 another, or impairing the general harmony of the 
 picture. Nothing, perhaps, is more difficult in a play 
 than to determine the exact relation of the real, and 
 what I may call the picturesque. For instance, it is 
 the custom in Alsatia for men to wear their hats in a 
 public room ; but in a play located in that country it 
 would not do to have a room scene in which a number 
 of men should sit around on the stage with their hats 
 on. There are reasons why they should not do that. 
 In the first place, their hats would hide their faces 
 from the audience. It is also an incongruity to see 
 men sitting in the presence of an audience with their 
 heads covered. Then, again, the attention of the 
 audience would be distracted from the play by a 
 feeling of curiosity as to the reason why the hats were 
 not removed. These are little things that should be 
 avoided ; but in general they are not likely to intrude 
 themselves where proper regard is paid to the general 
 appearance of a scene. The make-up of the stage is 
 exactly like the drawing of a picture, in which lights 
 and colours are studied, with a view to their effect 
 upon the whole. There is another feature. I would 
 not have the costume and general appearance of a 
 company of soldiers returning from a war exactly the 
 same as they appeared when the men were starting for 
 the battle-field. I would have them dishevel their 
 hair and assume a careworn aspect, but yet appear in 
 clean clothes. Everything on the stage should always 
 be clean and pleasant/ 7 
 
 The subject of realism being mentioned, he said his 
 death in " The Bells " had been called very realistic, 
 whereas the entire story was unrealistic, in the strict 
 sense, particularly the trial and death. " Dramatically 
 poetic, if you like," he said, ' ' but not realistic. There 
 are so-called realisms on the stage that are no doubt 
 offensive, overstrained illustrations of the pangs of 
 death, physical deformities, and such like. As for the 
 interest of an audience in the person who is acting, the 
 
"In Clover" 145 
 
 knowledge that what they see is an impersonation has 
 its intellectual attractions for them. For instance, it 
 would not be satisfactory to see an old man of eighty 
 play 'King Lear/ but it would be highly satisfactory 
 to an audience to know that the character was being 
 portrayed by a man in the vigour of life. As you look 
 upon a picture you do not see something that is real, 
 but something that draws upon the imagination. 
 
 " Perhaps there is no character about which such a 
 variety of opinions has been expressed as that of 
 Hamlet, and there is no book that will give any one 
 as much opportunity of understanding it as the 
 ' Variorum Shakespeare ' of Mr. Horace Howard 
 Furness. He is still a young man, he is not an old 
 man, and I trust that he will be able to complete the 
 whole of the work that he has begun, and I hope that 
 some one will follow in his footsteps. It was a labour 
 of love, of most intense love to him, and he has earned 
 the gratitude of all readers of Shakespeare. I hope I 
 shall meet him." 
 
 n. 
 
 Irving's Louis made just as profound an impression 
 here as in New York. "No finer performance has 
 been seen on the Philadelphian stage for many years," 
 said the Ledger. " From his first appearance on the stage 
 to the moment when he falls dead upon the floor, he rose 
 from climax to climax, and held, not the hearts, but the 
 minds, of his audience captive," said the Inquirer ; and 
 these notices give the cue to the general criticisms. The 
 other plays were equally well received. Shylock excited 
 the usual controversy as to Shakespeare's intentions, 
 but none as to Irving' s interpretation of his own views. 
 The critics, on the whole, were the honest mouth- 
 pieces of the audiences in regard to their enjoyment of 
 the entire play. A writer, who confessed to disappoint- 
 ment in Miss Terry's Portia, and who counted Shy- 
 lock's business as above his elocution, had " no words 
 to express " his " admiration of the entire setting of the 
 
 L 
 
i 46 Impressions of A merica . 
 
 piece," which he described as " a discovery and a con- 
 quest." It is no reflection upon the literary skill and 
 critical power of the Philadelphia press, when it has to 
 be admitted that here and there the notices bore 
 evidence of an influence preceding Mr. Irving's 
 appearance, notably in the criticisms of Hamlet. 
 
 " There are three kinds of criticisms/' said Irving, 
 when discussing this point one evening after a quiet 
 supper : " the criticism that is written before the play ; 
 the criticism that is more or less under the influence of 
 the preconceived ideas that are associated with pre- 
 vious representations by other actors ; and the criticism 
 that is bond fide a result of the night's performance, 
 and also, in a measure, an interpretation of the opinions 
 of the audience. What I mean by a criticism written 
 before the play, is the notice that has been partially 
 prepared beforehand, in connection with the literature 
 of the subject, and the controversies as to the proper 
 or improper views taken of the character under discus- 
 sion. These start in on one side or the other, just as 
 the writer feels about it, irrespective of the art that is 
 exercised by the actor. This is more particularly the 
 case in regard to Shylock and Hamlet. As to the 
 latter character there is the natural loyalty some 
 writers feel towards what is called the established or 
 accepted Hamlet of the country. It is not given to all 
 men to feel that art is universal and of no country. 
 Don't think I am complaining ; I am not. I am .trying 
 to justify some of the Philadelphian notices of Hamlet, 
 which were in opposition to the verdict of the audience 
 before whom I played it in America for the first 
 time." 
 
 " You were warned that Philadelphia claims to 
 occupy the highest critical chair in America ; and that, 
 of all other cities, it would be the least likely to accept 
 a new Hamlet, especially a natural and human Hamlet 
 as against the artificial school an impersonation as 
 opposed to mere declamation." 
 
 " I think that decided me to play Hamlet for the 
 
"In Clover? 147 
 
 first time in Philadelphia ; and I never played it to an 
 audience that entered more fully into the spirit of my 
 work." 
 
 " I have never," said a Philadelphian, " seen an 
 audience in this city rise and cheer an actor as they 
 cheered you when you took your call after the play 
 scene in Hamlet. Such enthusiasm is unknown here. 
 Miss Terry and yourself both might have had scene 
 calls of the most cordial character. You refused 
 them ; it is a rule, I understand, with you to do so. 
 The excitement of some audiences would have been 
 dampened by these checks. Not so yours, the calls 
 at the close of the play were quite phenomenal for 
 Philadelphia." 
 
 A numerous company of critics and reporters came 
 from New York, Boston, and other cities, to be present 
 at Irving's first appearance in Hamlet. Nowhere at 
 any time during the tour were the influences of London 
 so apparent as in the criticisms of Hamlet at Phil- 
 adelphia. Some of them were entirely out of harmony 
 with the warmly expressed satisfaction of one of the 
 most intellectual audiences ever gathered together 
 in the Chestnut Street Opera House. 1 For instance, 
 the Evening Bulletin found in the duelling scene re- 
 miniscences of " aesthetic sketches from Punch" and 
 the Press said, (< It is unfortunate that Du Maurier has 
 taken Miss Terry as the model of the aesthetic set. 
 The curly blonde hair, delicate face, and soft, clinging 
 
 1 "Mr. Irving presented a Hamlet last evening that was 
 entirely consistent with itself and with the play, and the most 
 virile, picturesque, and lovable Hamlet that has been seen on 
 the stage. There was great variety in his moods and manners. 
 He realized Goethe's idea of a born prince, gentle, thoughtful, 
 and of most moral nature, without the strength of nerve to 
 make a hero, and overcome by the responsibility put upon him 
 by a vision whose message he alternately accepts and doubts. 
 There was, indeed, the fullest variety given to the part ; it was 
 dramatically interesting, and a clearly marked, intelligent study 
 that more than realized the expectations that had been formed 
 of the personation."- -Philadelphia Ledger. 
 
 L 2 
 
148 Impressions of America. 
 
 robes reminded one so often of Punch's caricature, 
 that it was difficult to take it seriously." There is, in 
 certain critical circles of Philadelphia, the same kind of 
 affectation of a knowledge of English thought, and a 
 following of London taste, as there is in London in 
 regard to French art and French criticism. The 
 audience at the Chestnut Street Theatre had no 
 difficulty in taking Miss Terry's Ophelia seriously: 
 There was hardly a dry eye in the house during her 
 mad scene. The Bulletin critic aired his knowledge of 
 English affectation by associating her with "Burns- 
 Jonesism;" but the Times found "Miss Terry's 
 Ophelia tender and beautiful, and pathetic beyond any 
 Ophelia we have lately seen." The Record described 
 it as "sweet and unartificial as the innocent and 
 demented maiden Shakespeare painted for us/' Said 
 the Inquirer, in a criticism of singular literary force: 
 
 In the play scene, in which he seemed to fill the whole stage, 
 in which a real frenzy appeared to fall upon his mind, he 
 justified by the greatness of his acting almost all that has been 
 or could be said in praise of it. So grandly and impressively 
 did he bring the scene to a close as to call down thunders of 
 applause from an audience that he had thrilled and swayed by 
 a power undeniably great. If that scene was ever before so 
 nobly played, we were not there to see it done. Mr. Irving 
 rose to greater heights of excellence as the play proceeded. 
 From the moment Miss Terry put her foot upon the scene she 
 held and controlled her audience as she would. Never before 
 upon our stage has there appeared an actress who played 
 Ophelia with such lovely grace and piteous pathos. To all who 
 saw this most perfect performance it was a revelation of a 
 higher, purer, and nobler dramatic art than they had ever seen 
 or dreamed. What she did just here or there, or how she did 
 it, cannot be told. Over it all was cast the glamour of the genius 
 in which this fine woman is so greatly blessed. She does not 
 seein to act, but to do that which nature taught her. 
 
 III. 
 
 TALKING of criticism and the press, the press and 
 the stage, one evening, Irving expressed some views 
 in regard to the influence and relations of the news- 
 
"In Clover" 149 
 
 paper and the theatre which are full of suggestiveness 
 and point. 
 
 " Journalism and the stage/' he said, ' c have always 
 been more or less in sympathy with each other. As 
 they have progressed this sympathy may be said to 
 have grown into an alliance in the best interests of 
 civilization. As exponents of the highest thought of 
 the greatest writers, as educationists of the most com- 
 prehensive character, the press and the stage are, I 
 think, two of the most powerful institutions for good 
 in our times, and represent the greatest possibilities in 
 the future. 
 
 " It is interesting to contemplate how closely they 
 are associated, these two institutions, artistically and 
 commercially. The advertisements of the theatres re- 
 present a large revenue to the newspapers } the employ- 
 ment of writers and reporters in chronicling and com- 
 menting upon the work of the theatres represents, on 
 the other hand, an important outlay for the news- 
 papers. The press is telling the story of the theatre 
 from day to day ; and, while it extends an earnest and 
 honest sympathy to dramatic art in its highest aspira- 
 tions, I hope the time will come when the criticism 
 of the work of the stage will be considered one of the 
 most serious features that belong to the general and 
 varied compositions of a newspaper. 
 
 "In the past we, in England, at all events, look 
 upon but two men as critics in the most complete 
 sense, men who, by thought and study, feeling and 
 knowledge, had the power to sympathize with the in- 
 tention of the artist, to enter into the motives of the 
 actor himself, criticizing his conceptions according to 
 his interpretation of that which he desires to express. 
 These two writers were Lamb and Hazlitt. But now- 
 adays we have thousands of critics. Every newspaper 
 in Great Britain has its critic. Even the trade journals, 
 and some of the professedly religious journals, have 
 their critics, and some of them speak with an emphasis 
 and an authority on the most abstruse principles of art 
 
150 Impressions of America. 
 
 which neither Lamb nor Hazlitt would have dreamed 
 of assuming. I don't know how this contrasts with 
 America ; but I am sure that when the conductors of 
 the great journals of the two worlds are fully con- 
 vinced of the deep interest and the friendly interest 
 the people are taking in the stage, they will give 
 increasing importance to the dramatic departments of 
 their papers." 
 
 " You are going to a journalistic breakfast or supper 
 one day this week," I said. " Is this your idea of the 
 sort of speech you will make to them ? " I asked, for 
 he expressed his opinions with more than ordinary firm- 
 ness, seeing that the topic was comparatively new. 
 
 " Well, I thought of saying something," he replied, 
 walking all the time about his room. " Do you think 
 the relations of the stage and the press a good 
 subject?" 
 
 " Excellent," I said ; " a text worthy of an essay in 
 the Fortnightly or the Edinburgh Review." 
 
 IV. 
 
 TAKING a quiet stroll along Broad Street, and occa- 
 sionally up and down the thoroughfares right and left, 
 on the first Sunday afternoon of our arrival in Phil- 
 adelphia, we paused to note the people coming out of 
 church and chapel. 
 
 " You know that part of Manchester called Hulme," 
 said Irving. l< Is not this quarter like that ? Could 
 you not fancy we were in almost any suburban part of 
 Manchester ? And the people, do you see anything in 
 their appearance to denote that they are any other 
 than English ? " 
 
 " No ; they might be a Birmingham, or a Man- 
 chester, or a Liverpool crowd." 
 
 " Better dressed, perhaps, so far as the women go. 
 This absence of strong contrasts between American 
 and English is often noticeable. Nothing in that way 
 struck me more forcibly than the Lotos Club dinner 
 at New York. They might have been a gathering of 
 
"In Clover." 151 
 
 London clubmen, only that they all made such singu- 
 larly humorous speeches. The English after-dinner 
 oratory is more solemn. And the audience here last 
 night, I could not see their faces, of course ; but I 
 felt their influence, and their response to various points 
 was very English. I am told that it is thoroughly 
 American to hurry away the moment the curtain falls 
 on the last act." 
 
 " It certainly is the general practice of American 
 audiences. An English friend of ours, and a popular 
 comedian here, was only telling me yesterday how the 
 habit afflicts him and his company. ' At first/ he said, 
 ' it was terrible. We thought we had utterly failed, 
 and we shall never get used to it/ He asked me how 
 it affected you. I would not hurt his feelings, of course, 
 by telling him that your audiences, so far, had waited 
 every night to applaud, and to call you and Miss Terry, 
 and frequently other members of your company. I 
 said you seemed to drop into the habits of the country 
 easily." 
 
 " It is very generous, is it not ? And I know they 
 are making an exception with us, because my attention 
 has been called to it so often. I drove down Chestnut 
 Street yesterday. Have you noticed what a picturesque 
 effect, both in form and colour, the sign-boards give to 
 Chestnut Street ? And there is something very clean 
 and homelike about the private houses, red brick 
 mostly, with white marble steps and green blinds. 
 The atmosphere of the place is calmer than New York. 
 I have been reading a new daily paper here, the 
 Evening Call, very odd, clever kind of paper." 
 
 " Yes," I said ; " it is a type of quite a new de- 
 parture in daily journalism. The Morning Journal , 
 in New York, and the Evening News, in Chicago, 
 are examples in point. Akin to the first idea of the 
 Figaro, in London, they are a little in the style of 
 the Cuckoo, which croaked in the London streets for 
 a short time. They may be considered as outside the 
 competition of the regular high-class daily journals. 
 
152 Impressions of A merica . 
 
 They occupy ground of their own. Their leading idea 
 is to amuse, rather than to instruct. They employ 
 humorous versifiers, story-tellers, jesters. They are 
 the cap and bells in print, the jester, or court -fool, in 
 newspapers; and sometimes are as personal as that 
 very strange jester in the American play of ' Francesca 
 da Rimini/ How this new form of daily journalism 
 represents American civilization, or what side of it, is 
 a point which Mr. Arnold or Spencer may be left to 
 discuss. I am glad you have noticed it, because I 
 have collected a few Philadelphian examples of its 
 style, bright, easy, clever, frivolous, perhaps, and 
 sometimes a trifle broad, but full of go." 
 
 We sat down at the hotel to look over my notes, and 
 here are a few items from them : 
 
 Theatre-goer. " I notice that a favourite device with Irving, 
 in a moment of deep feeling, is for him to clutch and perhaps 
 tear open the collar or loose scarf that is around his neck." 
 
 Scarf Manufacturer. "Well, I declare! That is the best 
 news that I have heard for a long time. Three cheers for 
 Irving ! " 
 
 Theatre-goer. " Why, man, are you demented ? " 
 
 Scarf Manufacturer. "Not at all. Can't you see? The 
 five hundred thousand amateur actors in this country will all 
 be imitating Irving, and the result will be the biggest kind of 
 a boom in scarves." 
 
 In the same column it is announced that " James 
 Malley wants to go on the stage," and the editor adds, 
 ee We hope he will wait until eggs are cheaper." ' ' You 
 cannot convert 15,000 tons into 20,000 tons," is 
 quoted as a remark of the late Lord Beaconsfield to 
 accentuate the general grievance about short weight 
 in coals. "Dizzy's remark clearly shows that he 
 knew nothing about the coal business." Plumbers in 
 America are subjects of much newspaper sarcasm. 
 " Three weeks ago," says the Lock Haven Express, 
 " the writer sent for a plumber, who never appeared, 
 but yesterday he sent in his bill." The Call prints 
 this to add, " He must have been a poor sort of plumber 
 to wait three weeks before sending in a bill." Chicago 
 
"In, Clover." 153 
 
 looks down upon some of the Eastern cities, and there 
 is a rivalry between the journals of Chicago and the 
 cities that are scorned, which is often amusing. " The 
 only cure for love is marriage," says the Call ; " the 
 only cure for marriage, divorce. Beware of imitations ; 
 none genuine without the word ' Chicago * blown on 
 the bottle." 
 
 An imaginary description of Irving's visit to the Rev. 
 Henry Ward Beecher, with an account of the family 
 dinner and conversation, was started by one of these 
 new daily papers, and it was repeated even by several 
 of the more serious journals in other cities as a genuine 
 thing. It is difficult sometimes to know when the news 
 of some of these papers is true. Ingenious readers 
 will probably ask in what respect they thus differ from 
 other papers. But our satirical friends must always 
 have their little joke. It strikes me as a weakness, 
 in the programme of some of the new sheets, that you 
 should for a moment be left in doubt as to when they 
 are in earnest and when in fun ; when they are recording 
 real events, or when they are chaffing history. Here 
 is an extract from the " bogus " report of Irving's visit 
 to Beecher : 
 
 The party rested in the parlour until the dinner was ready. 
 The conversation was of an every-day nature, and did not enter 
 deeply either into theatricals or religion. 
 
 The party filed into the dining-room, Mr. Beecher behind, 
 turning his cuffs end for end as he walked. In this room was 
 a palatable show, a big, fat goose, intrenched in gravy, and 
 flanked by all kinds of vegetables, slept the final sleep in the 
 centre of the table. Everything necessary accompanied the 
 star of the feast. 
 
 " Dark meat, Miss Terry ? " asked the reverend gentleman as 
 he grasped the carver. 
 
 " If you please, with plenty of stuffing," returned the little 
 lady. 
 
 All were helped from the generous goose, and Mr. Beecher 
 sat down to enjoy his reward. He is very fond of onion 
 stuffing, and had taken care that it was not all gone before his 
 turn came. 
 
 "This goose," began Mr. Beecher, the bird's biographer, " has 
 a history. She is the seventh goose of a seventh" 
 
154 Impressions of A merica . 
 
 Just what the reverend gentleman was going to attribute to 
 the goose will not be known, as just then he tasted the stuning. 
 There was no onion in it. A stern look came over his face, and 
 he was on the point of saying something when he caught the 
 warning glance from his wife's eyes and kept quiet. Nothing 
 was heard for ten minutes besides the tuneful play of knives, 
 forks, and dishes. The dinner was topped off with mince and 
 pumpkin pies, in whose favour the guests could not say too 
 much. After dinner a quiet, enjoyable talk was indulged in. 
 Mr. Beecher neglected his Sunday school to entertain the 
 artists. He highly complimented Irving by telling him that 
 he was a born preacher. 
 
 " If I were not pastor of Plymouth Church, I would be Henry 
 Irving," said Mr. Beecher. 
 
 " You are a born actor," said Mr. Irving. " As for myself, 
 there is no one I feel more inclined to envy than the pastor of 
 Plymouth Church." 
 
 Miss Terry was not slighted much in Mr. Beecher's meed of 
 praise. The topics of discussion momentarily changed from 
 America to England and back again, both of the leading gentle- 
 men having well- stored minds that relieved them from "talking 
 shop." 
 
 At four o'clock the visitors departed, carrying and leaving 
 delightful impressions. 
 
 " Newspapers are not allowed to be noisily hawked 
 in the streets here, I find/' said Irving ; " and ticket 
 speculators on the sidewalks are also tabooed. A 
 little newsboy offered me a paper yesterday quite con- 
 fidentially. By the way, you saw the military band 
 belonging to the Evening Call. It is composed of 
 the employes of the newspaper. It looked like a band 
 of French guides. It serenaded Miss Terry at her 
 hotel yesterday, and afterwards serenaded me at mine. 
 I was just getting up. It quite affected me to hear 
 " God save the Queen " played as finely almost as if 
 the band of her Majesty's Guards were under my 
 window. 2 
 
 2 "DISTINGUISHED VISITORS. The Evening Call band of fifty- 
 one pieces and the Evening Call flute and drum corps, number- 
 ing thirty-five pieces, making a total of eighty-six performers, 
 formed before the Union League building this morning, and 
 proceeded down Broad Street a few yards, to the Hotel Bellevue, 
 and tendered a complimentary serenade to the distinguished 
 
"In Clover" 155 
 
 v. 
 
 in Clover/' was the journalistic title of a 
 report of " a notable breakfast given to the English 
 tragedian/' which appeared in the Philadelphia Press. 
 "A gathering of distinguished men listen to enter- 
 taining words by the famous actor ; he is presented 
 with the watch of Edwin Forrest ." 
 
 The " Clover Club " is one of the pleasantest of 
 Philadelphian institutions. Its reception to Mr. 
 Irving, and the Forrest incident, which makes the 
 day historical in the annals of the stage, call for a 
 special record. As I was travelling at this time to 
 another city, I propose to repeat the chronicle of the 
 local journalist, and Mr. Irving's own personal report 
 of the interesting proceedings. Let me say, then, in 
 the language of the Press, that on the morning of 
 December 7th Mr. Irving broke his fast with the club 
 
 English actor, Henry Irving. Several delightful airs, including 
 * God save the Queen,' were rendered with fine effect. Mr. J. 
 H. Coplestone, Mr. Abbey's manager for Mr. Irving, acknow- 
 ledged the compliment on behalf of the eminent tragedian. 
 The band then proceeded to the Aldine Hotel, where Miss Ellen 
 Terry, Mr. Irving's leading lady, was serenaded, following 
 which the musicians gave a short street parade. At the con- 
 clusion of the serenade Mr. Irving sent the following pleasant 
 little note to the office of the Evening Call : 
 
 " ' HOTEL BELLEVTJE, 
 " 'PHILADELPHIA, 29th November (" Thanksgiving Day "), 1883. 
 
 " ' To the Editor of the " Evening Call ". 
 
 "'MY DEAR Sm, Upon this day of universal thankfulness 
 allow me to add a personal item. My thanks to you and your 
 magnificent band for the honour done to me this morning by 
 their serenade. I enjoyed the music much, and beg to add my 
 tribute of praise to the worth of your band which, to my mind, 
 is amongst the best I have heard. To hear the strains of the 
 national anthem of my own dear land here, and on such a day, 
 touched me much, and assures me again in a forcible manner of 
 the strength of the affection between the two countries, America 
 and England. 
 
 " ' Believe me to be, dear sir, yours very faithfully, 
 
 "'HENRY IRVING.'" 
 
 Evening Call. 
 
156 Impressions of America* 
 
 that has a four-leaved Shamrock on which to spread 
 its bounty, 2 votre sante for its toast cry, and for its 
 motto the quatrain, 
 
 While we live, 
 
 We live in clover ; 
 When we die, 
 
 We die all over. 
 
 The banqueting-room of the Hotel Bellevue, the 
 scene of so many memorable gatherings, and the 
 shrine at which the quadrifoil devotees ever worship, 
 had been turned into a fairy bower. The regular 
 clover table had an addition in the shape of a crescent; 
 spreading on either side from the stem of the club's 
 emblem, and from its centre, and concealing a pillar 
 supporting the floor above, arose what the florist's 
 art made to appear a gigantic plant. Its branches, 
 bearing numerous camellias, reached to the ceiling. 
 At its base, in a bed of emerald moss, grew ferns and 
 lilies. Smilax (a beautiful American creeper), in 
 graceful windings, covered the entire board, furnishing 
 a radiant green setting for dazzling glass and shining 
 silver, and handsome plaques of flowers and fruits. 
 Directly in front of the president of the club, and the 
 guest of the occasion, was a handsome floral structure, 
 from which the modest clover grew around the name 
 " Henry Irving/' composed of radiant blossoms. On 
 the emblematic gridiron was placed the massive 
 " loving-cup." The walls of the room were covered 
 with precious works of art, and over all was shed the 
 mellow light of many wax candles, with their rays 
 subdued by crimson shades. The sunlight, so sugges- 
 tive of business activity and all that rebukes feasting 
 and frivolity, was rigorously excluded from the scene 
 of pleasure. An English and American flag entwined 
 draped one end of the room. 
 
 Breakfast was served shortly at noon, fifty-three 
 gentlemen sitting around the clover-leaf. 
 
"In Clover!' 157 
 
 After the "Baby" 3 member, Colonel John A. 
 McCaull, had descended from the high chair and been 
 divested of his rattle, and the loving-cup had been 
 passed around, and the game on the bill of fare had 
 been reached, President M. P. Handy arose, and in a 
 few fitting remarks introduced Mr. Irving, reminding 
 him, in conclusion, that " this unconventionality is our 
 conventionality/' and, further, that he was expected 
 " to stir up the animals." 
 
 After the warm applause that greeted him had sub- 
 sided, Mr. Irving, in a conversational, unrestrained 
 manner, spoke as follows : 
 
 " Gentlemen, I can never forget, so long as I live, 
 the hearty welcome you have given me, coupled with 
 such unusual and hearty hospitality. When it was first 
 known that I was coming to Philadelphia, your club 
 extended to me a most kind invitation, the first invi- 
 tation I received after my arrival in America, and one 
 that will ever be memorable to me. Your great hospi- 
 tality, and the gridiron there before me, has reminded 
 me of an old organization of which I am a member 
 the Beefsteak Club. I hope I shall have the pleasure 
 of welcoming some of the members of this club when- 
 ever they cross the water. Should any of them come 
 to London, I will endeavour to make some return for 
 this unexpected welcome. I hope by that time we 
 will have some of your unconventional conventionalities 
 of which you have, in such an excellent manner, given 
 me a specimen. I am told that speech-making is not 
 part of the programme. Therefore I can do no better 
 than follow the suggestion of my friend Dougherty, 
 and give you an experience of my early life. I don't 
 wish to do aught against the rules, for I am a great 
 stickler for rules, which I see you carry out ; but I will 
 tell you a little story concerning my early life, or it may 
 possibly be the story of the early life of several of us." 
 
 And then Mr. Irving branched off into a recitation 
 
 s The youngest member, who is provided with a tall chair, a 
 rattle, and other things indicative of his "clover" childhood. 
 
158 Impressions of A merica . 
 
 descriptive of how " some vast amount of years ago," 
 a precocious youth one Tom by name, and but eleven 
 years of age had a prematurely amorous longing for 
 a spinster of thirty-two, who finally married an elder, 
 but hated, rival. At the conclusion of the recitation, 
 which was received with great laughter, he continued 
 his remarks, as follows : 
 
 " I feel most fondly unto you, Clovers ! Many of 
 you, I believe, are associated with the press. Between 
 journalism and the stage there has always been a great 
 sympathy, and I fancy it will continue so until all 
 things cease to exist. I have often thought that the 
 stage is a sort of father of journalism, it is a sort of 
 Utopian idea, but from the days of the Greek drama 
 to the time of Shakespeare there was much news 
 discussed at the theatres, such as we now find in the 
 newspapers. Our interests are mixed. We represent 
 much of the newspaper treasury I know, in England, 
 and I fancy it is the same in this country. We are 
 therefore interested, to a very large amount, in the 
 newspapers, and I have found my friend, Charles 
 Wyndharu, whom I am glad to meet at this board, 
 interested to the extent of anxiety concerning some of 
 his large advertisements. 
 
 "But this is not solely a gathering of journalists. I 
 have to-day the honour of meeting many gentlemen who 
 represent every class in Philadelphia, every class of 
 professional calling. I will say from my very heart that 
 I thank you. I will remember, as long as I live, the 
 courtesy that has supplemented this sumptuous banquet, 
 and your kindness in calling me to meet such repre- 
 sentative men. I am living next door to this room, and 
 had I only heard that I was to meet such a distinguished 
 gathering I am afraid I would have been deterred 
 from facing you. Mr. Handy, your president, has told 
 me that your conventionality consists in being uncon- 
 ventional, and I have tried to be as unconventional as 
 I possibly can. I thank you with all my heart."" 
 
 At the conclusion of Irving's remarks, Secretary 
 
"In Clover'' 159 
 
 Deacon read the following letter from the eminent 
 American tragedian, James E. Murdoch : 
 
 Previous engagements of a domestic kind indnce me to 
 send " Regrets," in reply to your invitation to breakfast with 
 the members of the Clover Club and their distinguished guest, 
 Mr. Henry Irving. In regard to certain " effects, defective " 
 consequent upon the " feast of reason and the flow of soul," I 
 am constrained to say, in the language of Cassio [somewhat 
 altered], " I have but a poor and unhappy stomach for feasting." 
 I am unfortunate in the infirmity, and dare not task my 
 weakness with the tempting dishes of mind and matter so 
 bountifully served up at complimentary festivals. I hope it 
 will not be considered out of place for me to state that I have 
 had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Irving socially, and of witnessing 
 some of his performances. I esteem him as a man of gentle 
 manners, and regard him as a dramatic genius. He appears 
 to me to possess, in an eminent degree, all those qualities of 
 thought and action which marked so strikingly the historical 
 career of Macready and Charles Kean, and which established 
 the reputation of those gentlemen for consummate skill in stage 
 direction, and for exquisite portraiture of dramatic characters. 
 Desiring to be excused for the obtrusion of my opinion, allow 
 me to add : although I shall not have the pleasure of sitting 
 down to your banquet, I take pleasure in saying : 
 " Now, good digestion wait on appetite and health on both " 
 ..." Come, love and health, to all "... 
 
 I drink to the general joy of the whole table, and especially 
 to the health and happiness of your accomplished and worthy 
 guest. 
 
 Yours, always, in the bonds of good-fellowship, 
 
 JAMES E. MURDOCH. 
 
 The next episode of the memorable occasion was one 
 that almost moved Mr. Irving to tears. It was as 
 great a surprise to many members of the club as it was 
 to the guest of the day. Thomas Donaldson, a well- 
 known Clover, after some remarks concerning the 
 drama, in which he spoke of the United States having 
 1800 theatres, 20,000 actors and actresses, and 
 spending $40,000,000 for theatrical entertainment, 
 said : " Mr. Irving, I desire to present you with the 
 watch of the greatest genius America ever produced 
 on the mimic stage, Edwin Forrest." Mr. Irving 
 
1 60 Impressions of America. 
 
 clasped the relic extended to him and reverently kissed 
 it. He remained on his feet, having impulsively arisen, 
 and in a voice deep with feeling spoke again : 
 
 " You have bereft me of all words. My blood alone 
 can speak for ine in my face, and if my heart could tell 
 it would describe to you my gratitude. This recalls so 
 many memories that you will pardon me if I am not 
 able to express my deep gratitude for this mark of 
 affection. I say affection, for to receive here such a 
 memento of your great country is more than I could 
 have dreamt of. To think that to-day, before so many 
 distinguished Americans, a watch could be given to 
 me that belonged to Edwin Forrest ! It recalls a most 
 unfortunate affair ; I refer to the contretemps between 
 Forrest and my countryman, Macready. That such a 
 tribute should have been offered me shows how changed 
 is your feeling towards art ; shows how cosmopolitan 
 art is in all its phases. I shall wear this watch, Mr. 
 Donaldson, close to my heart. It will remind me of 
 you all, and of your city and of your country, not 
 that I need anything to remind me, but close to my 
 heart it will remind me of your friendship ; and with 
 all my heart I thank you." 
 
 As Irving sat down he kissed the watch again, 
 and then placed it in the upper left-hand pocket of 
 his vest. Accompanying the timepiece, which had 
 been Mr. Donaldson's private possession, were papers 
 proving the authenticity of its original ownership. 4 
 
 4 The documentary evidence handed to Irving as establishing 
 the identity of the watch are : (1) a copy of the catalogue of the 
 sale by auction of " the estate of Edwin Forrest, deceased," at 
 Davis and Harvey's Art Galleries, No. 1212, Chestnut Street, 
 Philadelphia, on Feb. 4, 1883 ; (2) a copy of the supplementary 
 catalogue of " the personal effects of Edwin Forrest," which sets 
 forth twenty-eight articles, including a silver watch ; (3) the 
 auctioneer's receipt for "One silver watch, the property of 
 Edwin Forrest ;" and (4) a voucher from Mr. Donaldson, in which 
 he states that, until he presented it to Mr. Irving, the watch had 
 never been out of his possession from the time that he bought 
 it. Mr. Donaldson is a collector of bric-a-brac, and possesses 
 
" In Clover" 161 
 
 Ex-Attorney-General MacVeagh was the next 
 speaker, and he paid a very graceful tribute to foreign 
 theatrical and operatic artists, and the welcome they 
 receive in these days on the shores of America. 
 
 Mr. Henry Howe (a leading member of Mr. Irving's 
 company), who, for forty consecutive years, was a 
 member of the Haymarket Theatre company, made a 
 warm defence of Macready anent the Forrest trouble. 
 "I have heard him say," said Mr. Howe, " time and 
 time again, ( Never in my life did I do anything that 
 would prevent me from shaking Forrest by the hand. 
 I appreciate his genius, and that I could ever have been 
 thought mean enough to do anything against him is the 
 greatest misfortune of my life/ And henceforth, gen- 
 tlemen, I believe you will all be ready to defend this 
 man who has been unjustly assailed. " 
 
 After many other speeches, songs, and recitations, 
 Irving rose to leave. He said : 
 
 " The welcome you have given me has surpassed my 
 most ideal dream. I cannot describe my feelings. 
 Such generosity, such welcome, such friendship, as I 
 have met with here, no act of mine can repay. I hope 
 to be back here in the early part of the coming year, 
 and I ask if you will not all at that time be my guests. 
 If you will come you will only add to the greatness of 
 my obligation." 
 
 As Irving left the room he passed around the 
 table and shook hands warmly with each gentleman 
 
 many interesting relics of the stage. On Irving's second visit to 
 Philadelphia we called upon him. and inspected some of his 
 miscellaneous treasures. They covered a wide range of interest, 
 antiquarian, geological, historical, artistic, and literary. A 
 white-haired, picturesque-looking old gentleman was there to 
 meet us. " How like Tennyson ! " exclaimed Irving. The 
 interesting visitor was Walt Whitman. He expressed great 
 satisfaction on being told that he was well known in England, 
 and, in an amused way, he stood up, that Irving might judge if 
 he was as tall as Tennyson. It is a milder face, and less rugged 
 in its lines, than the face of the great English poet ; but, in other 
 respects, suggests the author of " In Memoriam." 
 
1 62 Impressions of America. 
 
 present. The breakfast party did not arise until five 
 o'clock. Among those, other than the gentlemen men- 
 tioned, who contributed to the pleasure of the occasion, 
 by speech, song, or recitation, were Dr. Edward 
 Bedloe, Rufus E. Shapley, John B. Schoeffel, A. 
 Loudon Snowden, Hon. Robert P. Porter, A. G. 
 Hetherington, British Consul Clipperton, and Nat. 
 Childs. At the latter part of the festivities Attorney- 
 General Brewster entered the room and expressed his 
 regrets that he had been unable to be present in time 
 to shake hands with the Clover guest, and add his own 
 to the club's welcome of England's leading actor. 
 
Boston and Shy lock. 163 
 
 BOSTON AND SHYLOCK. 
 
 Eural Scenes on both Sides of the Atlantic First Impressions 
 of Eailway Travel The Cars One of the largest Theatres 
 in America The Drama in Boston Early Struggles to 
 represent Plays in Public " Moral Lectures " Boston Criti- 
 cisms Shylock, Portia, Hamlet, and Ophelia Different 
 Eeadings of Shylock Dressing-room Criticism Shylock 
 considered A Eeminiscence of Tunis Shakespeare inter- 
 preted on the Stage Two Methods illustrated Shylock 
 before the Court of Venice The Judgment of Actors. 
 
 I. 
 
 NOTHING in America is so unlike England as the 
 desolate appearance of the meadows in the autumn and 
 early winter months. From New York to Boston, a 
 journey of six hours, in the second week of December, 
 not a blade of green grass was to be seen. The train 
 ran through a wilderness of brown, burnt-up mea- 
 dows. With a tinge of yellow in the colour of them, 
 they would have resembled the corn-stubbles of an 
 English landscape. But all were a dead, sombre 
 brown, except once in a way, where a clump of oaks 
 still waved their russet leaves. Another noticeable 
 contrast to England is the wooden houses, that look so 
 temporary as compared with the brick and stone of the 
 old country. The absence of the trim gardens of 
 English, rural districts also strikes a stranger, as do 
 the curious and ragged fences that take the place of 
 the English hedge-rows.' The New England home- 
 steads are, however, more like those of old England 
 than are the farms of other States in the Union. 
 
 M 2 
 
164 Impressions of America. 
 
 The habit of letting out walls and buildings, roofs 
 of barns, and sides of houses, for the black and white 
 advertisements of quack-medicine vendors and others, 
 is a disfigurement of the land which every English 
 visitor notices with regret ; and lovers of the pictu- 
 resque, Americans and English, grow positively angry 
 over the disfigurement of the Hudson by these money- 
 making Goths and Vandals. 
 
 A change of scene was promised for the Irving 
 travellers on their return to New York, over the same 
 line. A cold wave from the West was predicted. 
 " We shall have snow before long," said an American 
 friend, f{ and not unlikely a hard winter. I judge so 
 from the fact that all the great weather prophets say 
 it will be a mild one. Your Canadian seer, for in- 
 stance, is dead on an exceptionally calm and warm 
 winter. So let us look out." 
 
 Boston delighted the members of Irving's com- 
 pany; all of them except Loveday, who contracted, 
 on the way thither, an attack of malarial fever. With 
 true British pluck he fought his assailant until his 
 first spell of important work was over, and then he re- 
 treated. Medical assistance, rest, and plenty of quinine 
 pulled him through. But the company were destined 
 later to sustain other climatic shocks; and they all, more 
 or less, had a dread of the threatened winter. Until 
 Loveday broke down everybody had stood the change 
 of climate well. Reports came from England that Miss 
 Ellen Terry was ill in New York. On the contrary, 
 she had never been better than during these first 
 weeks of the tour. She suffered, as all English 
 women do, from heated rooms. " That is my only 
 fear/' she said to me. " The climate ! I don't object 
 to it. If they would only be content with it, I would. 
 Some of the days are gorgeous. The snap of cold, as 
 they call it, was delightful to me. But when I would 
 be driving out in open carriages, New York ladies 
 would be muffled up in close broughams. And, oh, 
 the getting home again ! to the hotel, I mean. An 
 
Boston and Shy lock. 165 
 
 English hothouse, where they grow pine-apples that 
 is the only comparison I can think of. And their 
 private houses ! How the dear people can stand the 
 overwhelming heat of them, I don't know ! " 
 
 The railway journey from Philadelphia to Boston 
 was Irving's first experience of American travel. 
 
 " It is splendid/' he said, when I met him at his 
 hotel, on the night of his arrival. ' f Am I not tired ? 
 Not a bit. It has been a delightful rest. I slept 
 nearly the whole way, except once when going to the 
 platform and looking out. At a station a man asked 
 me which was Irving, and I pointed to Mead, who 
 had been walking along the track, and was just then 
 getting into his car. No ; I enjoyed the ride all the 
 way ; never slept better ; feel quite refreshed." 
 
 Said Miss Terry the next morning, when I saw her 
 at the Tremont House, " Oh, yes, I like the travelling ! 
 It did not tire me. Then we had such lovely cars ! 
 But how different the stations are compared with ours ! 
 No platforms! you get down really upon the line. 
 And how unfinished it all looks, except the cars, and 
 they are perfect. Oh, yes, the parlour car beats our 
 first-class carriage. I shall like Boston very much 
 though I never expect to like any place as well as 
 New York." 
 
 n. 
 
 THE Boston Theatre is the largest of the houses in 
 which Irving has played on this side of the Atlantic. 
 It is claimed that it is the largest in the Union, though 
 many persons say that the Opera House at the Rocky 
 Mountain city of Denver is the handsomest of all the 
 American theatres. The main entrance to the Boston 
 house is in Washington Street. It has not an imposing 
 exterior. The front entrance is all that is visible, the 
 rest being filled up with stores ; but the hall is very 
 spacious, and the vestibule, foyer, lobbies, and grand 
 staircase beyond, are worthy of the broad and well- 
 appointed auditorium. The promenade saloon is paved 
 
1 66 Impressions of America. 
 
 with marble, and is forty-six feet by twenty-six feet, 
 and proportionately high. Upon the walls, and here 
 and there on easels, are portraits of Irving, Booth, 
 McCullough, Salvini, and other notable persons. The 
 promenade and entrance hall cover one hundred feet 
 from the doors to the auditorium, which, in its turn, is 
 ninety feet from the back row to the footlights. The 
 stage is one hundred feet wide and ninety feet deep ; 
 and the interior of the house from front to back covers 
 three hundred feet, the average width being about one 
 hundred feet. In addition to the parquette, which 
 occupies the entire floor (as the stalls do at the English 
 Opera Comique, and, by a recent change, also at the 
 Hay market), there are three balconies, severally known 
 as the dress circle, the family circle, and the gallery. 
 The house will seat three thousand people. It is built 
 on a series of arches, or supporting columns, leaving 
 the basement quite open, giving, so far as the stage is 
 concerned, great facilities for the manipulation of 
 scenery and for storage, and allowing space for offices, 
 drill-rooms for supers, and other purposes. 
 
 "It is a magnificent theatre," said Irving; "the 
 auditorium superb, the stage fine; the pitch of the 
 auditorium in harmony with the stage by which I 
 mean there is an artistic view of the stage from every 
 seat; the gas managements are perfect, and the sys- 
 tem of general ventilation unique ; but the dressing- 
 rooms are small and inconvenient. For anything like 
 quiet acting, for work in which detail of facial expres- 
 sion, significant gesture, or delicate asides, are impor- 
 tant, the theatre is too large." 
 
 " Are you acquainted with the history of the stage 
 in Boston ? " I asked him, " or of this theatre in 
 particular ? " 
 
 " Only from what I have read or heard in a cursory 
 way," he said; "but one can readily understand that 
 our Puritan ancestors would bring with them to these 
 shores their hatred of plays and players. The actors 
 persevered in their terrible occupation in New 
 
Boston and Shy lock . 167 
 
 England, notwithstanding a local ordinance to prevent 
 stage plays and other theatrical entertainments, passed 
 in 1750. Otway's ' Orphan ' was, I am told, the first 
 piece done in Boston. It was played at the British 
 Coffee-house, e by a company of gentlemen/ and this 
 gave rise to the passing of the Act in question. Some 
 five or ten years later a number of Tories got up an. 
 association to promote acting and defy this statute. 
 They revolted in favour of art ; and in these days of 
 political tolerance that is a good thing to remember. 
 The members of this society were chiefly British 
 officers, who, with their subalterns and private soldiers 
 formed the acting company. I believe one of them 
 wrote the first piece they attempted to give in public. 
 It was called 'The Blockade of Boston;' but the 
 entertainment was stopped by a ruse a sudden re- 
 port that fighting had begun at Charlestown ; a call 
 to arms, in fact. For many years no more efforts 
 were made to amuse or instruct the people with semi- 
 theatrical entertainments or stage plays. The next 
 attempt was a theatre, or, more properly speaking, a 
 variety show, in disguise. The house was called f The 
 New Exhibition Rooin/ and the entertainment was an- 
 nounced as f a moral lecture/ One Joseph Harper 
 was the manager. The programme of the first night 
 included tight-rope dancing, and various other athletic 
 feats; 'an introductory address/ singing, by a Mr. 
 Woods ; tumbling, by Mr. Placide ; and, in the course 
 of the evening, 'will be delivered the Gallery of 
 Portraits ; or, the World as it Goes, by Mr. Harper/ 
 Later, e Venice Preserved ' was announced as a moral 
 lecture, ( in which the dreadful effects of conspiracy 
 will be exemplified/ Mr. Clapp's book on Boston 
 contains several curious instances of this kind. Shake- 
 speare, it seems, filled the stage as ' a moral lecturer / 
 and a familiar old English drama was played as f a 
 moral lecture, in five parts, wherein the pernicious 
 tendency of libertinism will be exemplified in the 
 tragical history of George Barnwell ; or, the London 
 
1 68 Impressions of America. 
 
 Merchant/ Eventually, in the year 1 793, I think, or 
 thereabouts, Harper was arrested on the stage while 
 playing Richard in one of Shakespeare's moral illus- 
 trations of the bane of ambition ^nd the triumph of 
 virtue over vice. The audience protested, and de- 
 stroyed a portrait of the governor of the city, which 
 hung over the stage-box. They also tore down the 
 State arms, and trampled upon them. At the hearing 
 of the charge against Harper a technical flaw in the 
 indictment procured his discharge. After this, how- 
 ever, the ' Exhibition Boom 9 did not flourish ; but a 
 bold and earnest movement, a year or two later, re- 
 sulted in the building of the Federal Street Theatre, 
 sometimes also called the Boston, and sometimes Old 
 Drury, after the London house. From this time the 
 stage in Boston is a fact ; and one feels at home in 
 reading over the names of the actors who have been 
 well known here, Macready, Charles Kemble and 
 Fanny Kemble, Charlotte Cushman, Ellen Tree, John 
 Vandenhoff, Sheridan Knowles, John Gilbert, Fanny 
 Ellsler, the Booths, our friend Warren, and others. 
 The present theatre, the Boston, 1 in which we are 
 acting, has been built about thirty years. The grand 
 ball given to the Prince of Wales when he visited 
 this country took place here, the auditorium being 
 boarded for the occasion." 
 
 IIT. 
 
 " THE audience " on the first night of Irving's appear- 
 ance in Boston, said the Post on the following morning, 
 
 1 " The Boston was built in 1854 by a stock company. It 
 was opened on the llth of September in that year, under the 
 management of the late Thomas Barry, and for some time was 
 in the hands of Junius Brutus Booth. After a time the 
 company gave up the theatre, and it was acquired by Messrs. 
 Thayer and Tompkins. On the death of Mr. Thayer, Mr. 
 Tompkins associated with himself Mr. Hill, who had been a 
 prominent stockholder, and they have since continued as pro- 
 prietors. Mr. Eugene Tompkins, son of the chief proprietor, is 
 the general manager." King 1 8 Boston. 
 
Boston and Shy lock. 169 
 
 " was not made up of average theatre-goers ; many 
 regular ' first-nighters ' were there, but a very large 
 majority of those present were people of wealth, who 
 go to the theatre comparatively little/' The play 
 was " Louis XL" It excited expressions of admiration 
 in the audience, and was as warmly praised in the 
 press as at New York and Philadelphia. A fine 
 theatre, the scenery appeared almost to greater 
 advantage than in the Lyceum itself; and some of the 
 readers of these pages will be surprised to learn that 
 much of the original scenery was dispensed with. 
 Portions of the sets, indeed, for all the pieces during 
 the week, were painted on the spot by Mr. Hall (a 
 clever young artist, who is devoted to the service of 
 Mr. Irving), and Lyceum draperies, groupings, 
 dresses, and stage manipulation, did the rest. The 
 usual orchestra of the theatre was strengthened, as at 
 New York and Philadelphia, and the conductor had 
 the satisfaction of a call for the repetition of some of 
 the entr'acte music. 
 
 Among the most remarkable tributes to Irving's 
 genius as an actor are the critical notices that appeared 
 in the Boston newspapers the next day; while the people 
 of Boston gave practical evidence of their satisfaction 
 by attending the theatre in increasing numbers every 
 night. The fortnight's work included, besides the 
 opening play, ' ' The Merchant of Venice/' ' ( The Lyons 
 Mail," " Charles I.," " The Bells," " The Belle's Strata- 
 gem/' and " Hamlet." The old controversies as to the 
 characters of Hamlet and Shylock, and the interpreta- 
 tion of them, cropped up in the press, and, as before, 
 were entirely absent from the audiences. They 
 evidently had no doubts; they showed no desire to 
 discount their pleasure ; they found themselves wrapped 
 up in the stage stories, rejoicing, sorrowing, weeping, 
 laughing, with the varying moods of poet and actor. 
 They did not stop to analyze the reasons for their 
 emotion ; it was enough for them that they followed 
 the fortunes of the hero and heroine with absorbing 
 
1 70 Impressions of A merica . 
 
 interest. They had no preconceived ideas to vindicate ; 
 they were happy in the enjoyment of the highest form 
 of dramatic entertainment which even those critics 
 that are chary of their commendation of individual 
 artists say America has ever seen. Said the Boston 
 Herald, in its notice of " Hamlet " : 
 
 " At the end of each act lie received one or more calls before 
 the curtain, and after the 'play scene' the demonstrations were 
 really enthusiastic ; shouts of ' Bravo ! ' mingling with the 
 plaudits that summoned him to the footlights again and again. 
 Miss Ellen Terry won all hearts by her exquisite embodiment of 
 Ophelia. A better representative of this lovely character has 
 not been, and is not likely to be, seen here by the present 
 generation of play-goers. She received her full share of the 
 honours of the evening, and her appearance before the curtain 
 was often demanded, and hailed with delight, by the large 
 audience present." 
 
 The Advertiser, Traveller, Globe, Post, indeed all 
 the daily press, were nnanimous in recognizing the 
 merits of Irving and his work. The Transcript 
 was especially eulogistic in its treatment of Hamlet. 
 As a rule the criticisms were written with excellent 
 literary point. 
 
 IV. 
 
 ON the first night of the " Merchant of Venice " at 
 Boston, Irving played Shylock, I think, with more 
 than ordinary thoughtfulness in regard to his original 
 treatment of the part. His New York method was, to 
 me, a little more vigorous than his London rendering 
 of the part. Considerations of the emphasis which 
 actors have laid upon certain scenes that are considered 
 as especially favourable to the declamatory methods 
 possibly influenced him. His very marked success in 
 Louis no donbt led some of his admirers in America 
 to expect in his Shylock a very hard, grim, and cruel 
 Jew. Many persons hinted as much to him before 
 they saw his impersonation of this much-discussed 
 character. At Boston I thought he was, if possible, 
 over- conscientious in traversing the lines he laid down 
 
Boston and Shy lock. 171 
 
 for himself when he first decided to produce the 
 "Merchant" at the Lyceum. Singularly sensitive 
 about the feelings of his audiences, and accustomed to 
 judge them as keenly as they judge him, he fancied 
 the Boston audience, which had been very enthusiastic 
 in their applause on the previous nights, were not 
 stirred as they had been by his other work in response 
 to his efforts as Shylock. The play, nevertheless, was 
 received with the utmost cordiality, and the general 
 representation of it was admirable. I found a Londoner 
 in front, who was in raptures with it. " I think the 
 carnival, Belmont, and court scenes," he said, " were 
 never better done at the Lyceum/' 
 
 At the close of the piece, and after a double call for 
 Irving and Miss Terry, I went to his dressing-room. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " the play has gone well, very well, 
 indeed ; but the audience were not altogether with me. 
 I always feel, in regard to this play, that they do not 
 quite understand what I am doing. They only 
 responded at all to-night where Shylock's rage and 
 mortification get the better of his dignity." 
 
 " They are accustomed to have the part of Shylock 
 strongly declaimed ; indeed, all the English Shylocks, 
 as well as American representatives of the part, are 
 very demonstrative in it. Phelps was, so was Charles 
 Kean ; and I think American audiences look for the 
 declamatory passages in Shylock, to compare your 
 rendering of them with the readings they have pre- 
 viously heard. You omit much of what is con- 
 sidered great business in Shylock, and American 
 audiences are probably a little disappointed that your 
 view of the part forbids anything like what may be 
 called the strident characteristics of most other Shy- 
 locks. Charles Kean ranted considerably in Shylock, 
 and Phelps was decidedly noisy, both fine, no doubt, 
 in their way. Nevertheless they made the Jew a cruel 
 butcher of a Jew. They filled the stage with his 
 sordid greed and malignant desire for vengeance on the 
 Christian, from his first entrance to his final exit." 
 
172 Impressions of A merica . 
 
 " I never saw Kean's Shylock, nor Phelps's, nor, 
 indeed, any one's. But I am sure Shylock was not a 
 low person ; a miser and usurer, certainly, but a 
 very injured man, at least he thought so. I felt 
 that my audience to-night had quite a different opinion, 
 and I once wished the house had been composed 
 entirely of Jews. I would like to play Shylock to a 
 Jewish audience." 
 
 Mr. Warren, 2 the famous Boston comedian, came into 
 the dressing-room while we were talking. He has been 
 a favourite here for thirty-six years. 
 
 " Not so long in one place as Mr. Howe," he says, 
 with a smile, " who tells me he was a member of the 
 Hay market company for forty years." 
 
 " You know Mr. Toole well ? " said Mr. Irving. 
 
 " Yes," he replied ; " it was a pleasure to meet him 
 here." 
 
 " He often talks of you." 
 
 " I am glad to know it," he replied ; " I want to tell 
 you how delighted I have been to-night. It is the 
 ' Merchant of Venice ' for the first time. I have never 
 seen the casket scene played before, nor the last act for 
 twenty years. A great audience, and how thoroughly 
 they enjoyed the piece I need not tell you." 
 
 " I don't think they cared for me," said Irving. 
 
 2 As the position which Mr. John Gilbert holds in New York 
 is akin to that which the elder Farren held in London, so the 
 position which Mr. William Warren occupies in Boston is akin 
 to that which Mr. Buckstone (" Bucky," as his particular friends 
 called him) held in the English metropolis. Mr. Warren's 
 Dogberry and Paul Pry are among the pleasantest reminiscences 
 of Boston play-goers. It fell to Irving's lot to meet Mr. Warren 
 frequently, and perhaps no actor ever received greater compli- 
 ments from two veterans of his craft than Irving received from 
 Gilbert and Warren. While the favourite of New York never 
 missed an Irving performance at the Star Theatre, his famous 
 contemporary of Boston not only attended all the Lyceum 
 performances at Boston, but later, when Irving went to Chicago, 
 Mr. Warren paid his relatives a visit in the western city, and 
 was as constant an attendant at Haverly's during the Irving 
 engagement as he was at the Boston Theatre. 
 
Boston and Shy lock. 173 
 
 " Yes, yes, I am sure they did/' Mr. Warren 
 replied, at which moment an usher brought Miss 
 Terry, to be introduced to him, and the subject 
 dropped, to be revived over a quiet cigar after supper. 
 " I look on Shylock," says Irving, in response to an 
 invitation to talk about his work in that direction, " as 
 the type of a persecuted race ; almost the only gentle- 
 man in the play, and most ill-used. He is a merchant, 
 who trades in the Rial to, and Bassanio and Antonio 
 are not ashamed to borrow money of him, nor to carry 
 off his daughter. The position of his child is, more or 
 less, a key to his own. She is the friend of Portia. 
 Shylock was well-to-do a Bible-read man, as his 
 readiness at quotation shows ; and there is nothing in 
 his language, at any time, that indicates the snuffling 
 usurer which some persons regard him, and certainly 
 nothing to justify the use the early actors made of the 
 part for the low comedian . He was a religious Jew ; 
 learned, for he conducted his case with masterly 
 skilfulness, and his speech is always lofty and full 
 of dignity. Is there a finer language in Shakespeare 
 than Shylock's defence of his race ? ' Hath not a Jew 
 eyes ; hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, 
 senses, affections, passions ; fed with the same food ; 
 hurt with the same weapons ; subject to the same 
 diseases ; healed by the same means ; warmed and 
 cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian 
 is ? ' As to the manner of representing Shylock, take 
 the first part of the story ; note his moods. He is, to 
 begin with, quiet, dignified, diplomatic ; then satirical ; 
 and next, somewhat light and airy in his manner, with 
 a touch of hypocrisy in it. Shakespeare does not 
 indicate at what precise moment Shylock conceives the 
 idea of the bond ; but he himself tells us of his anxiety 
 to have Antonio on the hip. 
 
 " ' I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. 
 He hates our sacred nation, and he rails, 
 Even there where merchants most do congregate, 
 On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, 
 Which he calls interest.' 
 
174 Impressions of America. 
 
 " His first word is more or less fawning ; but it breaks 
 out into reproach and satire when he recalls the insults 
 that have been heaped upon him. ' Hath a dog 
 money ? ' and so on ; still he is diplomatic, for he 
 wants to make reprisals upon Antonio : ' Cursed be 
 my tribe if I forgive him ! ' He is plausible, even 
 jocular. He speaks of his bond of blood as a merry 
 sport. Do you think if he were strident or spiteful in 
 his manner here, loud of voice, bitter, they would 
 consent to sign a bond having in it such fatal possi- 
 bilities ? One of the interesting things for an actor to 
 do is to try to show when Shylock is inspired with the 
 idea of this bargain, and to work out by impersonation 
 the Jew's thought in his actions. My view is, that 
 from the moment Antonio turns upon him, declaring 
 he is 'like to spit upon him again/ and invites him 
 scornfully to lend the money, not as to his friend, but 
 rather to his enemy, who, if he break, he may with 
 better force exact the penalty, from that moment I 
 imagine Shylock resolving to propose his pound of 
 flesh, perhaps without any hope of getting it. Then 
 he puts on that hypocritical show of pleasantry which 
 so far deceives them as to elicit from Antonio the 
 remark that ' The Hebrew will turn Christian ; he 
 grows kind/ Well, the bond is to be sealed, and when 
 next we meet the Jew he is still brooding over his 
 wrongs, and there is in his words a constant, though 
 vague, suggestion of a desire for revenge, nothing 
 definite or planned, but a continual sense of undeserved 
 humiliation and persecution : 
 
 " * I am bid forth to supper, Jessica- 
 There are my keys : but wherefore should I go ? 
 I am not bid for love ; they flatter me : 
 But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon 
 The prodigal Christian.' 
 
 " But one would have to write a book to go into 
 these details, and tell an actor's story of Shylock." 
 
 ' ' We are not writing a book of Shylock now, but 
 only chatting about your purpose and intention gene- 
 
Boston and Sky lock. 1 75 
 
 rally in presenting to the public what is literally to 
 them a new Shylock, and answering, perhaps, a few 
 points of that conservative kind of criticism which 
 preaches tradition and custom. Come to the next 
 phase of Shylock' s character, or, let us say, his next 
 dramatic mood." 
 
 " Well, we get at it in the street scene : rage, a, 
 confused passion; a passion of rage and disappoint- 
 ment, never so confused and mixed ; a man beside 
 himself with vexation and chagrin. 
 
 " ' My daughter ! Oh, my ducats ! Oh, my daughter ! 
 Fled with a Christian ! Oh, my Christian ducats ! 
 Justice ! the law ! my ducats and my daughter ! ' 
 
 "I saw a Jew once, in Tunis, tear his hair and 
 raiment, fling himself in the sand, and writhe in a rage, 
 about a question of money, beside himself with 
 passion. I saw him again, self-possessed and fawning; 
 and again, expressing real gratitude for a trifling 
 money courtesy. He was never undignified until he 
 tore at his hair and flung himself down, and then he 
 was picturesque ; he was old, but erect, even stately, 
 and full of resource. As he walked behind his team 
 of mules he carried himself with the lofty air of a 
 king. He was a Spanish Jew, Shylock probably 
 was of Frankfort ; but Shakespeare's Jew was a type, 
 not a mere individual : he was a type of the great> 
 grand race, not a mere Hounsditch usurer. He was 
 a man famous on the Rialto; probably a foremost man 
 in his synagogue proud of his descent conscious of 
 his moral superiority to many of the Christians who 
 scoffed at him, and fanatic enough, as a religionist, to 
 believe that his vengeance had in it the element of a 
 godlike justice. Now, you say that some of my 
 critics evidently look for more fire in the delivery of 
 the speeches to Solanio, and I have heard friends say 
 that John Kemble and the Keans brought down the 
 house for the way they thundered out the threats 
 against Antonio, and the defence of the Jewish race. 
 
ij6 Impressions of America. 
 
 It is in this scene that we realize, for the first time, that 
 Shylock has resolved to enforce his bond. Three 
 times, during a very short speech, he says, 'Let him 
 look to his bond ! ' ( A beggar that was used to come 
 so smug upon the mart ; let him look to his bond : 
 he was wont to call me usurer; let him look to his 
 bond; he was wont to lend money for a Christian 
 courtesy ; let him look to his bond.' Now, even an 
 ordinary man, who had made up his mind to ' have the 
 heart of him if he forfeit/ would not shout and rave 
 and storm. My friend at Tunis tore his hair at a 
 trifling disappointment ; if he had resolved to stab his 
 rival he would have muttered his intention between his 
 teeth, not have screeched it. How much less likely 
 still would this bitterly persecuted Jew merchant of 
 Venice have given his resolve a loud and noisy 
 utterance ! Would not his settled hate have been 
 more likely to show itself in the clinched hand, the 
 firmly planted foot, the flashing eye, and the deep 
 undertones in which he would utter the closing threat : 
 ' Let him look to his bond ' ? I think so." 
 
 " And so do the most thoughtful among your 
 audiences. Now and then, however, a critic shows 
 himself so deeply concerned for what is called tradition 
 that he feels it incumbent upon him to protest against 
 a Shylock who is not, from first to last, a transparent 
 and noisy ruffian." 
 
 " Tradition ! One day we will talk of that. In 
 Davenant's time and some dare to say he got 
 his tradition from Shakespeare himself they played 
 Shylock as a comic character, in a red wig ; and to 
 make it, as they thought, consistent, they cut out the 
 noblest lines the author had put into his mouth, and 
 added some of their own. We have no tradition 
 in the sense that those who would insist upon our 
 observance of it means; what we have is bad, 
 Garrick played Othello in a red coat and epaulettes ; 
 and if we are to go back to Shakespeare's days, 
 these sticklers for so-called tradition forget that 
 
Boston and Shy lock. 177 
 
 the women were played by boys. Shakespeare did 
 the best he could in his day, and he would do the 
 best he could if be were living now. Tradition ! It 
 is enough to make one sick to hear the pretentious 
 nonsense that is talked about the stage in the name of 
 tradition ! It seems to me that there are two ways of 
 representing Shakespeare. You have seen David's 
 picture of Napoleon and that by De la Roche. The 
 first is a heroic figure, head thrown back, arm 
 extended, cloak flying, on a white horse of the most 
 powerful, but unreal, character, which is rearing up 
 almost upon its haunches, its forelegs pawing the air. 
 That is Napoleon crossing the Alps. I think there is 
 lightning in the clouds. It is a picture calculated to 
 terrify ; a something so unearthly in its suggestion of 
 physical power as to cut it off" from human comprehen- 
 sion. Now, this represents to me one way of playing 
 Shakespeare. The other picture is still the same 
 subject, ' Napoleon crossing the Alps / but in this one 
 we see a reflective, deep-browed man, enveloped in his 
 cloak, and sitting upon a sturdy mule, which, with a 
 sure and steady foot, is climbing the mountain, led by 
 a peasant guide. This picture represents to me the 
 other way of playing Shakespeare. The question is, 
 which is right ? I think the truer picture is the right 
 cue to the poet who himself described the actor's art 
 as to hold, as it were, the mirror up to nature." 
 
 "Which should bring us very naturally back to 
 Shylock. Let us return to your brief dissertation at 
 the point where he is meditating vengeance in case of 
 forfeiture of the bond." 
 
 ie Well, the latest mood of Shylock dates from this 
 time, it is one of implacable revenge. Nothing shakes 
 him. He thanks God for Antonio's ill-luck. There is 
 in this darkness of his mind a tender recollection of 
 Leah. And then the calm command to Tubal, ' Be- 
 speak me an officer/ What is a little odd is his 
 request that Tubal shall meet him at the synagogue. 
 It might be that Shakespeare suggested here the idea 
 
178 Impressions of A merica . 
 
 of a certain sacredness of justice in Shylock's view of 
 vengeance on Antonio. Or it might be to accentuate 
 the religious character of the Jew's habits ; for Shylock 
 was assuredly a religious Jew, strict in his worship, 
 and deeply read in his Bible, no small thing, this 
 latter knowledge, in those days. I think this idea of 
 something divine in his act of vengeance is the key- 
 note to the trial scene, coupled, of course, with the 
 intense provocation he has received. 
 
 " ' Thou calledst me dog before thou hadst a cause ; 
 But since I am a dog, beware my fangs ! 
 The duke shall grant me justice. 
 .... Follow not, 
 I'll have no speaking ; I will have my bond.' 
 
 " These are the words of a man of fixed, implacable 
 purpose, and his skilful defence of it shows him to be 
 wise and capable. He is the most self-possessed man 
 in the court. Even the duke, in the judge's seat, is 
 moved by the situation. What does he say to An- 
 tonio ? 
 
 " ' I am sorry for thee ; thou art come to answer 
 A stony adversary.' 
 
 " Everything indicates a stern, firm, persistent, im- 
 placable purpose, which in all our experience of men 
 is, as a rule, accompanied by an apparently calm man- 
 ner. A man's passion which unpacks itself in oaths 
 and threats, which stamps and swears and shouts, may 
 go out in tears, but not in vengeance. On the other 
 hand, there are those who argue that Antonio's refe- 
 rence to his own patience and to Shylock's fury implies 
 a noisy passion on the part of the Jew ; but, without 
 taking advantage of any question as to the meaning of 
 1 fury ' in this connection, it seems to me that Shylock's 
 contempt for his enemies, his sneer at Gratiano, 
 
 " ' Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond, 
 Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud ' 
 
 and his action throughout the court scene quite out- 
 
Boston and Shy lock. 1 79 
 
 weigh, any argument in favour of a very demonstrative 
 and furious representation of the part. ' I stand here 
 for law ! ' Then note when he realizes the force of 
 the technical flaws in his bond, and there are lawyers 
 who contend the law was severely and unconstitutionally 
 strained in this decision of the court, he is willing to 
 take his bond paid thrice; he cannot get that, he asks 
 for the principal ; when that is refused he loses his 
 temper, as it occurs to me, for the first time during the 
 trial, and in a rage exclaims, ' Why, then, the devil 
 give him good of it ! ' There is a peculiar and special 
 touch at the end of that scene which, I think, is 
 intended to mark and accentuate the crushing nature 
 of the blow which has fallen upon him. When Antonio 
 stipulates that Shylock shall become a Christian, and 
 record a deed of gift to Lorenzo, the Jew cannot 
 speak. ' He shall do this/ says the duke, ' or else I do 
 recant the pardon/ Portia turns and questions him. 
 He is hardly able to utter a word. ' I am content/ is 
 all he says ; and what follows is as plain an instruction 
 as was ever written in regard to the conduct and 
 manner of the Jew. f Clerk, draw a deed of gift/ 
 says Portia. Note Shy lock's reply, his last words, the 
 answer of the defeated litigant, who is utterly crushed 
 and borne down : 
 
 " ' I pray you give me leave to go from hence ; 
 I am not well ; send the deed after me, 
 And I will sign it.' 
 
 " Is it possible to imagine anything more helpless 
 than this final condition of the Jew ? ' I am not well; 
 give me leave to go from hence ! ' How interesting it 
 is to think this out : and how much we all learn from 
 the actors when, to the best of their ability, they give 
 the characters they assume as if they were really pre- 
 sent, working out their studies, in their own way, and 
 endowing them with the characterization of their own 
 individuality ! It is cruel to insist that one actor shall 
 simply follow in the footsteps of another ; and it is 
 
 N 2 
 
180 Impressions of America. 
 
 unfair to judge an actor's interpretation of a character 
 from the standpoint of another actor ; his intention 
 should be considered, and he should be judged from 
 the point of how he succeeds or fails in carrying it 
 out." 
 
A City of Sleighs. 1 8 1 
 
 XI. 
 
 A CITY OF SLEIGHS. 
 
 Snow and Sleigh-bells" Brooks of Sheffield" In the Boston 
 Suburbs Smokeless Coal At the Somerset Club Miss 
 Ellen Terry and the Papyrus A Ladies' Night" Greeting 
 to Ellen Terry" St. Botolph Oliver Wendell Holmes 
 and Charles the First " Good-bye and a Merry Christ- 
 
 " A TRANSFORMATION scene, indeed ! " said Irving. 
 " Yesterday, autumn winds, bright streets, a rattle of 
 traffic to-day, snow and sleigh-bells yesterday, 
 wheels to-day, runners, as they call the enormous 
 skating-irons upon which they appear to have placed 
 every vehicle in the city. I have just returned from 
 rehearsal, and find everybody sleighing. The omni- 
 buses are sleighs the grocer's cart is a sleigh the 
 express waggons are sleighs it is a city of sleighs ! 
 The snow began to fall in earnest yesterday. Last 
 night it must have been a foot deep. It would have 
 ruined the business at a London theatre. Here it 
 made no difference. We had a splendid house." 
 
 " As I walked to my hotel at midnight," I replied, 
 " snow-ploughs were in the streets clearing the roads 
 and scouring the car- tracks. Boston tackles the snow 
 in earnest. The trees on the Common were a marvel of 
 beauty. They looked like an orchard of the Hesperides, 
 all in blossom, and the electric lamps added to the 
 fairy-like beauty of the scene." 
 
 " A lovely city. Shall we take a sleigh ride ? " 
 
1 8 2 Impressions of A merica . 
 
 " < Why, certainly/ as they say in ' The Colonel/ 
 but rarely in America." 
 
 Irving rings for his coloured attendant. He has 
 discovered that his surname is Brooks, and takes a 
 curious pleasure in addressing him as Brooks, some- 
 times as Brooks, of Sheffield ! " 
 
 " Order me a sleigh, Brooks ! " 
 
 " Yes, sab/' says Brooks, grinning. 
 
 " Two horses, Brooks ! " 
 
 " Yes, sah," says the attendant, preparing to go, not 
 hurriedly, for who ever saw a coloured gentleman (they 
 are all coloured gentlemen) in a hurry ? 
 
 " And take my rugs down ! " 
 
 " Yes, sah/' he says, marching slowly into the next 
 room for the rugs. 
 
 "And, Brooks " 
 
 "Yes, sah." 
 
 " Would you like to go to the theatre one night ? " 
 
 " Berry much, sah yes, sah." 
 
 " What play would vou like to see ? " 
 
 " Hamlet, sah ! " 
 
 " Hamlet ! Yery good. Is there a Mrs. Brooks ? " 
 
 " 'Deed there is, sah/' answers the darkey, grinning 
 from ear to ear. 
 
 " And some little Brookses of Sheffield ? " 
 
 " Yes, sah ; not ob Sheffield, ob Boston/' 
 
 " That's all right. Mr. Stoker shall give all of you 
 seats. See if he is in the hotel." 
 
 " Yes, sah." 
 
 As he stalks to the door Stoker comes bounding in 
 (Stoker is always on the run), to the discomfiture of 
 Brooks and his load of rugs. 
 
 Brooks picks himself up with dignity. Stoker 
 assures his chief that there is not a seat in the house 
 for anybody. 
 
 " Then buy some for Brooks/' says Irving. 
 
 " Where ? " asks Stoker, in amazement. 
 
 " Anywhere," says Irving, adding, with a significant 
 glance at me, " from the speculators." 
 
A City of Sleighs. 183 
 
 " Oh, very well, if you wish it," says Stoker. 
 " And, Brooks" 
 
 " Anybody else in the hotel like to go ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes, indeed, s ah," says Brooks "de cook, sah." 
 
 " And what play would the cook like to see ? " 
 
 " Hamlet, saL" 
 
 " YouVe been paid to say this ! " says Irving, 
 quoting from Louis. " Who bade you do it ? " 
 
 But this was only whispered in a humorous 
 ' c aside " for me, who know how much he likes Hamlet, 
 and how much he likes other people to like Hamlet. 
 
 At the door of the Brunswick we find a sleigh, pair 
 of horses, smart-looking driver, a heap of rugs and 
 furs, under which we ensconce ourselves. The weather 
 is bitterly cold, the sky blue; the windows of the 
 houses in the fine streets of the Back Bay district flash 
 icily; the air is sharp, and the sleigh-bells ring out 
 aggressively as the horses go away. 
 
 The snow is too deep for rapid sleighing; there has 
 been no time for it to solidify. It is white and pure 
 as it has fallen, and when we get out into the suburbs 
 it is dazzling to the eyes, almost painful. Crossing 
 the Charles river the scene is singularly picturesque ; 
 a cumbersome old barge in the foreground; on the 
 opposite shore a long stretch of red-brick buildings, 
 vanishing at the point where the heights of Brookline 
 climb away, in white and green and grey undulations, 
 to the bright blue sky. As we enter Cambridge there 
 are fir-trees growing out of the snow, their sombre 
 greens all the darker for the white weight that bows 
 their branches down to the drifts that wrap their 
 trunks high up; for here and there the snow has 
 drifted until there are banks of it five and six feet 
 deep. 
 
 "Very pretty, these villas; nearly all wood, do 
 you notice ? very comfortable, I am sure ; lined with 
 brick, I am told, some of them. Nearly all have 
 balconies or verandahs; and there are trees and 
 
184 Impressions of America* 
 
 gardens everywhere, must be lovely in summer; 
 good enough, now, for that matter. One thing makes 
 them look a trifle lonely, no smoke coming from the 
 chimneys. They burn anthracite coal, good for this 
 atmosphere, excellent and clean ; but how a bit of 
 blue smoke curling up among the trees finishes and 
 gives poetry to a landscape, suggests home and cosey 
 firesides, eh?" 
 
 " Yes. New York owes some of its clear atmosphere 
 to its smokeless coal." 
 
 " What a pity we don't have it in London ! Only 
 fancy a smokeless London, what a lovely city ? " 
 
 ' ( It may come about one day, either by the adoption 
 of smokeless coal or the interposition of the electrician. 
 Last summer I spent some time in the Swansea Valley, 
 England, not far from Craig-y-nos, the British home 
 of Patti. One day I noticed that there was no smoke 
 over the villages ; none at some local ironworks, 
 except occasional bursts of white steam from the 
 engine-houses ; nothing to blemish the lovely sky 
 that touched the mountain-tops with a grey mist. I 
 was near Ynyscedwyn, the famous smokeless-coal dis- 
 trict of South Wales. London need not burn another 
 ounce of soft or bituminous coal ; there is enough 
 anthracite in Wales to supply all England for a thou- 
 sand years/' 
 
 " What a blessing it would be if London were to use 
 nothing else ! " 
 
 Through Cambridge, so intimately associated with 
 Longfellow, past its famous colleges, we skirted Brook- 
 line, and returned to our head-quarters in Clarendon 
 Street, meeting on the way many stylish sleighs and 
 gay driving-parties. 
 
 On another day Irving took luncheon with a little 
 party of undergraduates in Common Hall, was received 
 by the president of the college, inspected the gym- 
 nasium, saw the theatre, and had long talks with 
 several of the professors. 
 
 Perhaps from a literary and artistic standpoint the 
 
A City of Sleighs. 1 8 5 
 
 most interesting social event among the many enter- 
 tainments given to Irving was a dinner given by 
 Mr. Charles Fairchild and Mr. James R. Osgood, at 
 the Somerset Club. The company included Messrs. 
 T. B. Aldrich, A. V. S. Anthony, Francis Bartlett, 
 William Bliss, George Baty Blake, S. L. Clemens 
 ("Mark Twain"), T. . Higginson, W. D. Howells, 
 "Laurence Hutton, W. M. Laffan, Francis A. Walker, 
 George B. Waring, and William Warren. After 
 dinner the conversation was quite as brilliant as the 
 company. Mark Twain told some of his best stories 
 in his best manner. Mr. Howells and Mr. Aldrich in 
 no wise fell short of their reputations as conversa- 
 tionalists. There Were no drinking of toasts, no 
 formal speeches, which enhanced the general joy of the 
 whole company. 
 
 Driving homewards along the Common, Irving said, 
 " By gaslight, and in the snow, is not this a little like 
 the Green Park, with, yonder, the clock-tower of the 
 Houses of Parliament ? " 
 
 " Do you wish it were ? " 
 
 " I wouldn't mind it for an hour or two, eh ? 
 Although one really sometimes hardly feels that one 
 is out of London/'' 
 
 n. 
 
 " LADIES' NIGHT. The Papyrus Club request the 
 pleasure of the company of Miss Ellen Terry at the 
 Eevere House, December 15th, at six o'clock. Boston, 
 1883. Please reply to J. T, Wheelwright, 39, Court 
 Street." 1 
 
 1 LADIES' NIGHT AT THE PAPYRUS. The Ladies' Night enter- 
 tainment of the Papyrus Club, which has come to be accepted 
 as one of the annual features of that organization, took place at 
 the Revere House last night, and the occasion proved to be one 
 of exceptional interest and brilliancy. The Papyrus includes in. 
 its membership a large number of clever men, and, with their 
 guests who assembled last evening to partake of the club's hos- 
 pitality, the company made up a most delightful and distin- 
 guished gathering. The after-dinner exercises, which were not 
 permitted to be reported in full, were of a most entertaining 
 
1 86 Impressions of America. 
 
 Thus ran the invitation, which was adorned with a 
 miniature view of the Pyramids in a decorative setting 
 
 character ; the speeches of the distinguished gentlemen guests 
 and the contributions in prose and verse by some of the members 
 of the club, being very bright and enjoyable. The members and 
 their guests assembled in the hotel parlours at six o'clock, where 
 they were received by the president of the club, Mr. George F. 
 Babbitt, assisted by Miss Fay. Music was furnished by the 
 Germania Orchestra, and, after an hour spent in introductory 
 ceremonies, the members and their guests, numbering altogether 
 120 ladies and gentlemen, proceeded to the dining-hall and sat 
 down to the dinner-table, which was arranged in horseshoe 
 form. The tables were artistically decorated with flowers, and 
 at each plate was placed a dinner-card, bearing the name of each 
 guest, and a menu of an exceedingly artistic design, the front 
 cover bearing a photograph of the club paraphernalia, very 
 cleverly grouped, and bearing the inscription : " Papyrus, 
 Ladies' Night. December 15th, MDCCCLXXXIII." President 
 Babbitt sat in the centre, with Miss Fay at his right and Miss 
 Ellen Terry at his left. On either side of the president were 
 seated Miss Alcott, Mr. Joseph Hatton, Dr. Burnett and Mrs. 
 Frances Hodgson Burnett, General Francis A. Walker and Mrs. 
 Walker, Mr. Henry Cabot Lodge, Captain Story, U.S.A.; Mr. 
 Guy Carleton, of New York, editor of Life, and Mr. J. A. Mit- 
 chell, assistant editor ; Rev. and Mrs. Brooke Hereford, Dr. John 
 D. Blake and Mrs. Blake, Mr. W. H. Rideing and Mrs. John 
 Lillie, the author of " Prudence," and Rev. and Mrs. H. B. Car- 
 penter. Among the other members and guests present were 
 Miss Nora Perry and Miss Noble, the author of " A Reverend 
 Idol ;" Mr. and Mrs. Robert Grant, Mr. F. J. Stimson, the 
 author of " Guerndale," and Mrs. Stimson; Dr. Harold Williams, 
 the author of " Mr. and Mrs. Morton ;" Mr. Arthur Rotch and 
 Mrs. Van Renssellaer, Mr. and Mrs. W. F. Apthorp, Mr. A. H. 
 Dodd, Mrs. Dodd, and Miss Dodd ; Mr. Henry M. Rodgers and 
 Mr. George Abbot James ; Miss Gage, Mr. and Mrs. Howard M. 
 Ticknor, and Mrs. S. A. Bigelow ; Mrs. C. H. Washburne, Mr. 
 George Snell, Mrs. Bacon, and Mrs. Charles Whitmore ; Mr. 
 Alexander Young, Mr. George Roberts, Mr. John T. Wheel- 
 wright, Mr. L. S. Ipsen, Mr. Alexander Browne and Miss Ed- 
 mundson, Mr. Frank Hill Smith, and Mrs. Henry Fay; Mr. 
 Arlo Bates, Dr. and Mrs. James Chad wick, Colonel Theodore A 
 Dodge, and Mrs. Crowninshield ; Mr. and Mrs. F. P. Vinton, Mr. 
 Francis Peabody, jnn. ; Mr. Russell Sullivan, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Charles Albert Prince, Miss Minot, Mr. and Mrs. Gordon Prince, 
 Mr. and Mrs. F. V. Parker, Mr. and Mrs. E. L. Osgood, Mr. and 
 Mrs. George M. Towle, Mr. H. G. Pickering, Mr. and Mrs. W. 
 
A City of Sleighs. 1 8 7 
 
 of the reed that is familiar to travellers in the Nile 
 valley. 
 
 H. Say ward, and Mrs. E. G. Shaw ; Mr. T. 0. Langerfelt, Mr. 
 and Mrs. Arthur Foote, Mr. Sigourney Butler, Miss 'Butler, and 
 Miss Shimmin ; Mr. and Mrs. E. G. Fitch, Mr. and Mrs. George 
 B. Goodwin, Mr. W. B. Clarke, Mr. and Mrs. C. A. Campbell, Mr. 
 G. W. Chadwick, Mr. Preston, Mr. and Mrs. F. E. Wright, Mrs. 
 G. A. Gibson, Mr. and Mrs. L. L. Scaife, and Mr. and Mrs. J. 
 E. Woods. At the conclusion of the dinner the president pro- 
 posed the health of the assembled company in the loving-cup, 
 in accordance with a time-honoured custom of the Papyrus, the 
 cup passing from guest to guest until it had made the rounds of 
 the tables. Many of the gentlemen were merrily cheered as they 
 rose to drink from the cup, as were many of the distinguished 
 ladies, who, without rising, simply touched the cup to their lips. 
 After this interesting ceremony had been gone through with, 
 the president welcomed the company in a brief speech, concluding 
 with a toast to the lady guests, which was drunk standing by 
 the gentlemen present. The Eev. H. Bernard Carpenter was 
 called upon to respond to the toast, which he did in a neat speech, 
 in which pleasant allusions were made to the distinguished ladies 
 of the company, and their work. He was followed by Mr. John T. 
 Wheelwright, the secretary of the club, who gave a very bright 
 burlesque report of the proceedings of the monthly Papyrus 
 meetings. It was made up of clever imitations of the poetic and 
 prose contributions of the more active members of the Papyrus, 
 and its numerous hits were received with shouts of laughter. 
 Mr. .T. E. Sullivan then read a charming bit of prose ; and then 
 came a bright and humorous contribution from Mr. Eobert 
 Grant, who described, in a very funny way, his experiences as_a 
 member of the committee on ladies' night some years ago. It 
 abounded in witty allusions to the antics of some of the members 
 of the club, and, although the names of the characters who 
 figured in the sketch were assumed for the occasion, the refer- 
 ences to the members of the club were readily recognized. Mr. 
 Howard M. Ticknor was then introduced, and read a poem ad- 
 dressed to Miss Terry, concluding with a toast in honour of the 
 distinguished lady, the mention of whose name elicited enthusi- 
 astic applause. Mr. Joseph Hatton responded handsomely for 
 Miss Terry, thanking the company for their very cordial welcome 
 and the Papyrus for their elegant hospitality. Mr. Arlo Bates 
 read some very pretty songs, and Mr. Guy Carleton responded to a 
 toast in honour of Life, the clever New York paper. Mr. W. H. 
 Say ward gave one of his excellent imitations, and the entertain- 
 ment concluded with the performance of " a burlesque operatic 
 monodrama," entitled " Titi." The sole dramatis persona, Titi, 
 
1 88 Impressions of America. 
 
 Miss Terry concluded to accept, and I had the 
 honour of being her escort. The handsome rooms of 
 the Kevere House that were devoted to the service of 
 the club on this occasion were crowded with ladies and 
 gentlemen when we arrived. Among the guests in 
 whom Miss Terry was especially interested were Mrs. 
 Burnett, the author of " Joan " and other remarkable 
 novels ; Miss Noble, the author of " A Keverend Idol ;" 
 Miss Fay, Mrs. John Lillie, Mrs. Washbourne, and 
 other ladies known to the world of letters. She was 
 surrounded for a long time by changing groups of 
 ladies and gentlemen, who were presented in a 
 pleasant, informal way by Mr. Babbitt, the president 
 of the club, and other of its officers. 
 
 The dinner was a dainty repast (one of the special 
 dishes was a " baked English turbot with brown 
 sauce ") . The details of it were printed upon a photo- 
 graphic card, which represented the loving-cup, punch- 
 bowl, Papyrus' manuscripts, gavel, pen and ink, and 
 treasure-box of the institution. 
 
 During dinner Miss Terry was called upon to sign 
 scores of the menu cards with her autograph. Upon 
 many of them she scribbled poetic couplets, Shakes- 
 pearian and otherwise, and on others quaint, appropriate 
 lines of her own. She captivated the women, all of 
 them. It is easier for a clever woman to excite the 
 admiration of her sex in America than in England. 
 A woman who adorns and lifts the feminine intellect 
 into notice in America excites the admiration rather 
 
 was assumed by Mr. Win. F. Apthorp, who sang and recited the 
 monodrama in costume, being accompanied on the piano by 
 Mr. Arthur Foote. The performance of this bright musical 
 composition occupied nearly half an hour, and it was acted and 
 sung by Mr. Apthorp with exquisite chic and drollery, serving 
 as a fitting finale to the very pleasant after-dinner entertain- 
 ment. The company arose from the tables at about half-past 
 ten o'clock, and soon after separated, many of the gentlemen 
 going to the St. Botolph Club reception to Mr. Irving, which 
 was appointed for eleven o'clock. Boston Saturday Evening 
 Gazette. 
 
A City of Sleighs. 189 
 
 than the jealousy of her sisters. American women 
 seem to make a higher claim upon the respect and at- 
 tention of men than belongs to the ambitious English 
 women, and when one of them rises to distinction 
 they all go up with her. They share in her fame; 
 they do not try to dispossess her of the lofty place 
 upon which she stands. There is a sort of trades- 
 unionism among the women of America in this respect. 
 They hold together in a ring against the so-called lords 
 of creation, and the men are content to accept what 
 appears to be a happy form of petticoat government. 
 So the women of Boston took Ellen Terry to their arms 
 and made much of her. 
 
 After dinner the President expressed in quaint terms 
 the club's welcome of its guests, and the Secretary 
 having read a quaintly expressed official report of the 
 previous meeting, Mr. Howard M. Ticknor recited, 
 with excellent elocutionary point, the following ' ' Greet- 
 ing to Ellen Terry ": 
 
 "Honour," said Cassius, "is my story's theme." 
 Honour shall best my verse to-night beseem. 
 
 For some, how safe, how permanent, how sure ! 
 
 Written in characters that will endure, 
 
 Until this world begins to melt away 
 
 And crumble to its ultimate decay. 
 
 The picture fades ; but colour still is there, 
 
 Even in ruin is the statue fair ; 
 
 The province won, the city burnt or built, 
 
 The inwrought consequence of good or guilt, 
 
 Shape after epochs to time's latest span, 
 
 And link enduringly a man to man. 
 
 But he who is himself artist and art, 
 Whose greatest works are of himself a part ; 
 Who, sculptor, moulds his hand, his form, his face ; 
 Who, painter, on the air his lines must trace. 
 Musician, make an instrument his voice, 
 And tell, not write, the melody of his choice ; 
 Whose eloquence of gesture, pose, and eye 
 Flashes aglow, in instant dark to die ; 
 
190 Impressions of America. 
 
 Where are for him the honour and the fame 
 A face on canvas, and perhaps a name 
 Extolled a while, and then an empty word 
 At sound of which no real thrill is stirred. 
 
 What, then, shall recompense his loss ? What make 
 
 Atonement for the ignorant future's sake ? 
 
 What but the tribute of his honour now, 
 
 The native wreath to deck his living brow ? 
 
 Then, as he passes beyond the mortal ken, 
 
 His glory shall go with him even then, 
 
 Not as a hope, a doubt, and a desire, 
 
 But as a spark of his own living fire, 
 
 Of his eternal self a priceless part, 
 
 Eternal witness to his mind and heart. 
 
 And so, to-night, when she who comes from far 
 
 To show in one what many women are, 
 
 Sits at our board, and makes our evening shine, 
 
 Breaks bread with us, and pledges in our wine, 
 
 Let us be quick to honour in our guest 
 
 So many a phase of life by her expressed. 
 
 Portia's most gracious, yet submissive word 
 
 " You are my king, my governor, my lord ;" 
 
 Her courage, dignity, and force, 
 
 Warning the Jew that justice shall have course ; 
 
 The trenchant wit of Beatrice, and .her pride, 
 
 Her loyalty as friend, her faith as bride ; 
 
 Letitia's stratagems ; the tragic fate 
 
 Of sweet Ophelia, crushed by madness' weight. 
 
 How many chords of happiness or woe, 
 Her lips that quiver and her cheeks that glow ; 
 Her speech now clear, now clouded, and her eyes 
 Filling by turns with anguish, mirth, surprise 
 Can wake to throb, again to rest can still 
 Potent her power as Prospero's magic will ! 
 
 Present alone is hers alone is ours, 
 
 Now, while she plants, must we, too, cull the flowers ? 
 
 For future wreaths she has no time to wait ; 
 
 Unready now, they are for aye too late. 
 
 Now is the moment our regard to show, 
 
 Let every face with light of welcome glow ; 
 
 Let smiles shine forth, glad words be spoken, 
 
 Formality for once be broken. 
 
 Let hand strike hand, let kerchiefs wave, 
 
 Keep not her laurels for her grave ; 
 
A City of Sleighs. 191 
 
 Twine our proud chaplet for her fair, smooth brow, 
 And bid her take our share of tribute now ; 
 Then shall it be a recollection dear, 
 That we to-night greet Ellen Terry here ! 
 
 III. 
 
 IRVING, who could not be present at the Papyrus Club 
 (it was one of Miss Terry's " off nights," when either 
 " The Bells " or " Louis XL" was performed), was 
 received at the St. Botolph's Club soon after the 
 Papyrus festivities closed. In the absence of the 
 President, ex-Mayor Green, the Vice-President, and 
 Mr. Secretary Sullivan did the honours of the evening. 
 An interesting meeting on this occasion was the intro- 
 duction of Irving to Oliver Wendell Holmes, who later, 
 at the matinee performance of " Charles the First/' 
 was quite overcome with the pathos of the play. Apart 
 from the number and enthusiasm of his audiences, Mr. 
 Irving's personal reception by the leading men of 
 Boston UtterateurSj professors, and scholars might 
 well have given point to the few eloquent words which 
 he addressed to the house on the closing performance of 
 " The Bells " and " The Belle's Stratagem." He said, 
 "Ladies and Gentlemen, I have the privilege of 
 thanking you, for myself, and in behalf of my com- 
 rades, and especially in behalf of my gifted sister, Miss 
 Ellen Terry, for the way in which you have received 
 our tragedy, comedy, and melodrama. In coming to 
 this country I have often said that I felt I was coming 
 among friends; and I have had abundant and most 
 touching proof that I was right. This I have never 
 felt more truly than in your historic city of New Eng- 
 land, which seems a veritable bit of Old England. In 
 this theatre we have been on classic ground, and if we 
 have, while upon these boards, accomplished anything 
 tending, in your opinion, to the advancement of a 
 great art, in which we are all deeply interested, we are 
 more than repaid, and more than content. It affords 
 me great pleasure to tell you that, if all be well, we 
 
192 Impressions of America. 
 
 shall return to Boston in March, when I hope to pre- 
 sent, for the first time on our tour, f Much Ado About 
 Nothing/ And now, ladies and gentlemen, in the 
 names of one and all, I gratefully thank you, and 
 respectfully wish you ( Good-bye and a Merry 
 Christmas/ " 
 
Looking Forward to Christmas. 193 
 
 XII. 
 
 LOOKING FORWARD TO CHRISTMAS. 
 
 Interviewing in England and America Eehearsing Eichard 
 and Lady Ann Eeminiscences of a Christmas Dinner A 
 Homely Feast Joe Eobins and Guy Fawkes He would be 
 an Actor The Luxury of Warmth" One Touch of Nature." 
 
 I. 
 
 THERE is interviewing and interviewing. How it 
 comes out depends upon the interviewer and the inter- 
 viewed. Every phase of the difficult art is shown in 
 American journalism. Mr. Yates, in the World, has 
 given us the best modern form of interviewing in 
 " Celebrities at Home." Mr. Blowitz, of the Times, and 
 other foreign correspondents have frequently shown 
 England how admirably the American system fits a 
 certain class of news. The Pall Mall Gazette has 
 lately adopted the method of our cousins more in 
 detail than has been hitherto popular with the London 
 press. I have always held that interviewing, con- 
 ducted with discretion and a sense of journalistic 
 responsibility would be a valuable and entertaining 
 feature of English newspaper work. 
 
 I am prompted to these remarks by the contents of 
 this chapter. Said Mr. Stephen Fiske, the dramatic 
 editor of The Spirit of the Times, and the author of 
 a clever book on England, " I am anxious to have Mr. 
 Irving write a short story for our Christmas number. 
 Wilkie Collins, as you know, is a constant contributor, 
 and we have the assistance of some of the best pens, 
 
 o 
 
1 94 Impressions of America. 
 
 English and American. Irving has written for several 
 English publications/' 
 
 " He has a wonderful amount of energy, and can 
 do more mental work in a given time than any man 
 I know ; but when he is going to get an opportunity 
 to sit down and write a Christmas story is more than I 
 can tell." 
 
 " I only want a personal reminiscence, an anecdote 
 or two," said Fiske ; " but I must have him in the 
 Christmas number." 
 
 " Why don't you interview him, with Christmas as 
 the pivot of your interrogations ?" I asked. 
 
 " He has been interviewed almost to death, I should 
 think." * 
 
 " Oh, no ; I believe he likes it. I am sure he does 
 when a really bright, clever fellow comes along and 
 engages his attention. Though he does not say so, 
 and, perhaps, has not thought about it, he is doing 
 good every time he talks to an American reporter 
 about the stage and its mission. No actor ever set 
 people thinking so much in England, and he is proving 
 himself quite an art missionary on this side of the 
 Atlantic." 
 
 1 ' That's true," said the dramatic editor ; te but for 
 my purpose I only want him to be simply entertaining, 
 a bit of personal history, apropos of Christmas." 
 
 "Play the role of an interviewer, and write the 
 stories yourself," I suggested. 
 
 " I will," said Fiske. " Your plan has this advan- 
 tage, I shall get the copy in proper time for the 
 printer." 
 
 n. 
 
 And this Christmas chat is the result of the dramatic 
 editor's decision. 
 
 The trouble ton ch ing some of the " Interviews" that appeared 
 in the journals was that they were not all genuine. Fiske 
 suggested this fact as discounting a " Christmas chat;" but I 
 undertook to endorse his work by annexing his "interview " to 
 these pages ; and I have to thank him for his bright contribution . 
 
Looking Forward to Christmas. 195 
 
 "It was a gloomy, rainy, miserable day. The 
 theatre, always a dreary place in the morning, seemed 
 even more depressing than usual. Mr. Irving was re- 
 hearsing the first act of ' Richard III./ possibly with 
 a view to Baltimore or Chicago. 
 
 {f With that infinite patience which some philosophers 
 define as genius, Mr. Irving went over and over 
 the lines of Richard and Lady Ann, and acted all the 
 business of the scene. His street costume and tall 
 silk hat appeared ridiculously incongruous with his 
 sword and his words. He knelt upon the stage and 
 showed Lady Ann how to take hold of the weapon 
 and threaten to kill him. He rose and repeated her 
 speeches with appropriate gestures. He knelt again, 
 gave her the cues, and watched her from under his 
 heavy eyebrows, while she again rehearsed the scene. 
 
 " Repeated a dozen times, this performance became as 
 monotonous as the dripping of the rain without, or the 
 slow motions of the cleaners in the front of the theatre. 
 At last, with a few final kindly words, the Lady Ann 
 was dismissed, and Mr. Irving sat down wearily at the 
 prompter's table. 
 
 " ' Where shall you eat your Christmas dinner ? ' I 
 inquired. 
 
 " c At Baltimore/ replied Mr. Irving. ' Several of 
 my company have brought their home-made Christmas 
 puddings over with them, and are to carry them about, 
 with the rest of the luggage, until the day arrives. I 
 have determined to try the American Christmas pud- 
 dings, which, I am told, are very good indeed, like 
 most things American/ 
 
 " ' Oh, our people manufacture them by thousands. 
 After all, a Christmas pudding is only a mince-pie 
 boiled/ ' 
 
 ' ' ' Just so/ said Mr. Irving, laughing in his silent, 
 interior, Leatherstocking manner. 'I am thinking/ 
 he exclaimed, ' of the Christmas dinner I gave last* 
 year in the room of the old Beefsteak Club, which, 
 you know, is now part of the Lyceum Theatre. We 
 
 o 2 
 
196 Impressions of America. 
 
 had talked the matter over, a few friends and myself, 
 and decided that we were tired of professional 
 cooks and conventional bills of fare, and that the best 
 stimulus for our jaded palates was a return to plain, 
 homely dishes. 
 
 " ' You can fancy Stoker saying that. He said it over 
 and over for at least a month, and kept humming, 
 " There's no place or no dinner like home/' in the 
 most disquieting way, whenever the matter was men- 
 tioned. He also undertook to arrange the whole 
 affair. 
 
 " ' Well, it was arranged. There were to be no pro- 
 fessional caterers, no professional waiters, no luxuries 
 of any kind, except the wines, which I took under 
 my own care, being cast for the part of the butler. 
 Stoker was to buy the material. The property-man's 
 wife was to roast the beef and the turkey. The mis- 
 tress of the wardrobe undertook to boil the pudding. 
 An usher, born with a genius for cookery, who was 
 discovered by Stoker, had charge of the soup, fish, 
 and vegetables. We were to wait upon ourselves, a 
 genuine family party. A suggestion to order ices 
 from Gunter's, in case the pudding was a failure, was 
 voted down indignantly. 
 
 " c As Christmas approached I became quite in- 
 terested in this home dinner hungry for it days in 
 advance, as one may say. I began by inviting one 
 friend who had a reputation as an epicure; then 
 another asked to be allowed to share our homely feast. 
 Presently our family party grew to thirty. I began to 
 have forebodings. You see, a small family can wait 
 upon themselves, but not a family of thirty. 
 
 " ' However, Stoker appeared cheerily satisfied and 
 mysteriously complacent, and seemed to think that our 
 motto should be " The more the merrier ! }i I imagined 
 that he had secretly tested some of the home cooking 
 beforehand, and rather envied him his position as 
 taster. 
 
 " ( The guests were met ; the table set. I had made 
 
Looking Forward to Christmas. 197 
 
 sure that the wines were all right. As I looked along 
 at the happy, friendly faces I felt that a home dinner 
 was the most pleasant, after all. The soup-tureen was 
 before me, and I lifted the cover with the anxious 
 pride of a Wellington firing the first gun at Waterloo. 
 
 " ' The chance simile of a battle holds good ; for the 
 soup was awfully smoky. Somebody said that it tasted 
 like a chimney on fire. The fish was worse. The roast 
 beef was uneatable. Persistent as I naturally am, I 
 gave up the attempt to carve the turkey. The pud- 
 ding was as hard as a stone. What little appetite 
 remained to us was lost while carving the meats and 
 passing the plates around. I had felt like Wellington 
 before Waterloo ; but when the dinner was over I 
 could appreciate the despair of the defeated Napoleon. 
 
 " ' Had we been only a family party the fiasco would 
 not have been so fatal ; but, as I told you, I had in- 
 vited epicures ; I had dragged my friends from their 
 comfortable homes on Christmas Day to partake of 
 this terrible repast. Some of them have never quite 
 forgiven me. Some have forgiven me, because I had 
 a chance to take them aside and put all the blame 
 upon Stoker. But nobody who was present can ever 
 have forgotten it. 
 
 ' ' ' Like Napoleon, I retreated to Fontainebleau ; I 
 fell back upon the wines. One of the guests won my 
 heart by loudly eulogizing the cheese and the crackers. 
 They were not home-made. They had not been cooked 
 in the theatre ! 
 
 " ' Here comes Stoker/ continued Mr. Irving, re- 
 lapsing into his curious solemnity of manner ; ' let us 
 ask him about it. 
 
 " ' I say, Stoker, do you remember the home dinner 
 you gave us at the Lyceum last Christmas ? ' 
 
 " Mr. Stoker stopped on his way across the stage, 
 and stood like a statue of amazement, of indignation, 
 of outraged virtue. ' The dinner I gave you ? ' he 
 at last exclaimed. Then his loyalty to his chief 
 triumphed, and he added, ' Well, you may call it my 
 
198 Impressions of America. 
 
 dinner, if you like; but I have the original copy of 
 the bill of fare in your own handwriting/ 
 
 " ( Ah ! ' resumed Mr. Irving, quite placidly, as his 
 acting manager dashed away, ' I thought Stoker would 
 remember that dinner ! ' 
 
 " ' This Christmas you will dine upon roast canvas- 
 backs, instead of roast beef, and stewed terrapin, 
 instead of smoked soup,' I observed. 
 
 " 'Yes/ replied the English actor; ' I am told that 
 Baltimore is the best place for those delicacies. But 
 they will not seem strange to me ; I have eaten canvas- 
 backs at Christmas before/ 
 
 " ' In England ? ' 
 
 " { Certainly. My first American manager Papa 
 Bateman you used to call him had many good friends 
 in this country, who kept him liberally supplied with 
 almost all your American luxuries. Under his tuition 
 I learned to like the oysters, the terrapin, and canvas- 
 backs, upon which my generous hosts are feasting me 
 now, long before I ever thought of coming to America. 
 
 ' ( ' But perhaps the most remarkable Christmas 
 dinner at which I have ever been present/ continued 
 Mr. Irving, after reflecting for a few moments, *' was 
 the one at which we dined upon underclothing/ 
 
 " f Do you mean upon your underclothing or in your 
 underclothing?' queried the astonished interrogator con- 
 juring up visions of Christmas dinners on uninhabited 
 islands, at which shipwrecked mariners had been known 
 to devour their apparel, and of the tropical Christmas 
 dinners in India and Australia, at which scanty cos- 
 tumes are appropriate to the climate. 
 
 " ' Both ! ' replied Mr. Irving. ' It is not a story of 
 wonderful adventure ; but I'll tell it to you, if you 
 have five minutes more to spare. Do you remember 
 Joe Robins a nice, genial fellow who played small 
 parts in provinces ? Ah, no ; that was before your 
 time. 
 
 " ' Joe Robins was once in the gentleman's furnish- 
 ing business in London city. I think that he had a 
 
Looking Forward to Christmas. 199 
 
 wholesale trade, and was doing well. However, lie 
 belonged to one of the semi-Bohemian clubs, asso- 
 ciated a great deal with actors and journalists, and 
 when an amateur performance was organized for some 
 charitable object, Joe was cast for the clown in a 
 burlesque called " Guy Fawkes." 
 
 "'Perhaps he played the part capitally; perhaps 
 his friends were making game of him when they loaded 
 him with praises ; perhaps the papers for which his 
 Bohemian associates wrote went rather too far when 
 they asserted that he was the artistic descendant and 
 successor of Grimaldi. At any rate, Joe believed all 
 that was said to him and written about him, and when 
 some wit discovered that Grimaldr's name was also 
 Joe, the fate of Joe Kobins was sealed. He deter- 
 mined to go upon the stage professionally and become 
 a great actor. 
 
 " ' Fortunately Joe was able to dispose of his stock 
 and good-will for a few hundred pounds, which he 
 invested so as to give him an income sufficient to pre- 
 vent the wolf from getting inside his door, in case he 
 did not eclipse Garrick, Kean, and Kemble. He also 
 packed up for himself a liberal supply of his wares, 
 and started in the profession with enough shirts, 
 collars, handkerchiefs, stockings, and underclothing to 
 equip him for several years. 
 
 " * The amateur success of poor Joe was never re- 
 peated on the regular stage. He did not make an 
 absolute failure ; no manager would entrust him with 
 parts big enough for him to fail in. But he drifted 
 down to general utility, and then out of London, and 
 when I met him he was engaged in a very small way, 
 on a very small salary, at a Manchester theatre. 
 
 " f His income eked out his salary; but Joe was a 
 generous, great-hearted fellow, who liked everybody, 
 and whom everybody liked, and when he had money 
 he was always glad to spend it upon a friend or give 
 it away to somebody more needy. So, piece by piece, 
 as necessity demanded, his princely supply of haber- 
 
2OO Impressions of America. 
 
 dashery had diminished, and now only a few shirts and 
 underclothes remained to him. 
 
 <( ' Christmas came in very bitter weather. Joe had 
 a part in the Christmas pantomime. He dressed with 
 other poor actors, and he saw how thinly some of them 
 were clad when they stripped before him to put on 
 their stage costumes. For one poor fellow in especial 
 his heart ached. In the depth of a very cold winter 
 he was shivering in a suit of very light summer under- 
 clothing, and -whenever Joe looked at him the warm 
 flannel undergarments snugly packed away in an extra 
 trunk weighed heavily upon his mind. 
 
 " ' Joe thought the matter over, and determined to 
 give the actors who dressed with him a Christmas 
 dinner. It was literally a dinner upon underclothing ; 
 for the most of the shirts and drawers which Joe had 
 cherished so long went to the pawnbroker's, or the 
 slop-shop, to provide the money for the meal. 
 
 ' ' ' The guests assembled promptly, for nobody else 
 is ever so hungry as a hungry actor. The dinner was 
 to be served at Joe's lodgings, and before it was 
 placed on the table, Joe beckoned his friend with the 
 gauze underclothes into a bedroom, and, pointing to a 
 chair, silently withdrew. 
 
 " ' On that chair hung a suit of underwear which 
 had been Joe's pride. It was of a comfortable scarlet 
 colour ; it was thick, warm, and heavy ; it fitted the 
 poor actor as if it had been manufactured especially to 
 his measure. He put it on, and, as the flaming flannels 
 encased his limbs, he felt his heart glowing within him 
 with gratitude to dear Joe Robins. 
 
 " ' That actor never knew or, if he knew, he never 
 could remember what he had for dinner on that 
 Christmas afternoon. He revelled in the luxury of 
 warm garments. The roast beef was nothing to him 
 in comparison with the comfort of his undervest; he 
 appreciated the drawers more than the plum-pudding. 
 Proud, happy, warm, and comfortable, he felt little 
 
Looking Forward to Christmas. 201 
 
 inclination to eat, but sat quietly, and thanked Pro- 
 vidence and Joe Robins with all his heart/ 
 
 " ' You seem to enter into that poor actor's feelings 
 very sympathetically/ I observed, as Mr. Irving 
 paused. 
 
 " ' I have good reason to do so/ replied Mr. Irving, 
 with his gentle, sunshiny smile ; ' for I was that poor 
 actor ! ' " 
 
2O2 Impressions of America. 
 
 XIII. 
 A WILD RAILWAY JOURNEY. 
 
 A Great American Bail way Station Platforms and Waiting- 
 Booms A queer Night " Snow is as Bad as Fog " A 
 Farmer who suggests Mathias in " The Bells "A Bomance 
 of the Hudson Looking for the Maryland and Finding 
 " The Danites "Fighting a Snow- Storm " A Ministering 
 Angel" The Publicity of Private Cars Mysterious Pro- 
 ceedings Strange Lights Snowed up Digging out the 
 Bail way Points A Good Samaritan Locomotive Trains 
 Ahead of Us, Trains Behind Us Bailway Lights and Bells 
 " What's going on ? " 
 
 I. 
 
 " THE Irving train is expected to arrive at Jersey 
 City from Boston at about seven o'clock," said a tele- 
 
 raphic despatch which. I received in New York on 
 unday. I had left the great New England city two 
 days before Irving's special train, with the under- 
 standing that I should join him at Jersey City, en 
 route for Baltimore. 
 
 At half- past six I was on the great steam ferry-boat 
 that plies from the bottom of Desbrosses Street, New 
 York, to the other side of the river. A wintry wind 
 was blowing up from the sea. I preferred the open 
 air to the artificial heat of the cabin. In ten minutes 
 I was landed at the station of the Pennsylvania Rail- 
 road. 
 
 " Inquire for the steamer Maryland/' continued 
 that despatch which I have just quoted. " She con- 
 veys the train down the Harlem river to connect on 
 the Pennsylvania Road." *"* 
 
A Wild Railway Journey. 203 
 
 The general waiting-room of the station, or depot, 
 as our American cousins call it, is a characteristic one. 
 Seeing that I was allowed plenty of time to observe it, 
 I propose to describe it. A large square hall, with a 
 high-pitched roof, it has more of a Continental than 
 an English or American appearance. As you enter you 
 find a number of people waiting for the trains. They 
 include a few coloured people and Chinamen. The 
 centre of the room is filled with benches, like the 
 stalls of a London theatre. You wonder why two 
 marble tombs have been erected here. They turn out 
 to be heat-distributors. The hot air pours out from 
 their grated sides. In case you should be in danger 
 of suffocation a drinking fountain is in handy proxi- 
 mity to the blasts of heated air. The right-hand side 
 of the hall is filled with booking-offices, and a clock 
 bell tolls, indicating the times at which the various 
 trains start. On the left is a cafe, and an entrance 
 from Jersey City. Opposite to you as you enter from 
 the ferry are two pairs of doors leading to the trains, 
 and the space between the portals is filled in with a 
 handsome book-stall. The doorways here are jealously 
 guarded by officials who announce the departure of 
 trains and examine your tickets. One of these guards 
 sits near a desk where a little library of city and 
 State directories is placed for the use of passengers. 
 Each volume is chained to the wall. Near the cafe is 
 a post-office box, and hanging hard by are the weather 
 bulletins of the day. A ladies' waiting-room occupies 
 a portion of the hall on the booking-office side. The 
 place is lighted with electric lamps, which occasionally 
 fizz and splutter, and once in a while go out altogether. 
 Nobody pays any attention to this. Everybody is 
 used to the eccentricities of the new and beautiful 
 light. 
 
 Obtaining permission to pass the ticket portals, I 
 reach the platform, where I am to find the station- 
 master. The outlook here reminds me of the high- 
 level station of the Crystal Palace. A dim gas-light 
 
2O4 Impressions of America. 
 
 exhibits the outlines of a series of long cars, fenced in 
 with gates, that are every now and then thrown open 
 to receive batches of passengers from the waiting- 
 room. 
 
 The Irving train has been delayed. She is reported 
 ""to arrive at the Harlem river at half-past eight." 
 In that case she may be here at a quarter to ten. 
 
 I return to the spluttering electric lamps and to the 
 continually coming and going multitudes of pas- 
 sengers. "No smoking" is one of the notices on the 
 walls. Two men have lighted their cigars right under 
 it. They remind one of the duellists in " Marion de 
 Lorme," who fight beneath the cardinal's pro- 
 clamation. The cafe is bright and inviting, and its 
 chocolate is as comforting as the literature of the 
 book- stall. The novels of Ho wells and James and 
 Braddon and Black are here, and the Christmas 
 numbers of the Illustrated London News and the 
 Graphic; so likewise are the Christmas and New 
 Year's cards of Marcus Ward, De la Eue, and Lowell. 
 I purchase the latest novelty in books, "John Bull and 
 his Island," and try to read. I look up now and then 
 to see the crowd file off through the ticket doors 
 to go to Bethlehem, Catasauqua, Lansdown, New 
 Market, Bloomsbury, Waverly, Linden, Philadelphia, 
 West Point, Catskill, Albans, New Scotland, Port 
 Jackson, Schenectady, and other towns and cities, 
 the names of which stir my thoughts into a strange 
 jumble of reflections, Biblical, topographical, and 
 otherwise. Bethlehem and Bloomsbury ! Were ever 
 cues for fancy wider apart ? " Over here," I read in 
 "John Bull and _his Island," the writer referring to 
 London, " you are not locked up in a waiting-room 
 until your train comes in. You roam where you like 
 about the station, and your friends may see you off 
 and give you a handshake as the train leaves the 
 platform. The functionary is scarcely known. There 
 are more of them at the station of Fouilly les Epinards 
 than in the most important station in London. You 
 
A Wild Railway Journey. 205 
 
 see placards everywhere : ' Beware of pickpockets '; 
 ' Ascertain that your change is right before leaving 
 the booking-desk.' The Englishman does not like 
 being taken in hand like a baby/' Curiously the 
 American is treated on the railroads very much as 
 in France. As to placard-notices, you see cautions 
 against pickpockets, and the London warning as to 
 change. Some of the other notifications in American 
 stations are curious : f< No loafing allowed in this 
 depot ;" " Don't spit on the floor." Douglas Jerrold's 
 joke about the two angry foreigners who exclaimed, 
 " I spit upon you," has more point here than in 
 England ; for no apartment is sacred enough is this 
 free country to keep out the spittoon, which, in some 
 places, is designed in such a way as to indicate a 
 strong intention to make it ornamental as well as 
 useful. 
 
 I. seek the station-master again. 
 
 " Nob sooner than a quarter to eleven," he says. 
 
 " Does the weather obstruct the train ? " 
 
 " Yes, it's a queer night; snow falling very thickly; 
 makes the river journey slower than usual; snow is 
 as bad as fog/' 
 
 The entire train of eight enormous cars, containing 
 the Lyceum company and their baggage, is trans- 
 ported by boat right down the Harlem river, a dis- 
 tance of several miles, the raft and train being 
 attached to a tug-boat. The train is run upon the 
 floating track at Harlem, and connected again with 
 the main line at Jersey City. 
 
 :f I was to ask for the steamer Maryland." 
 
 " Yes, her quay is outside the depot. I will let you 
 know when she is reported. You will hear her 
 whistle." 
 
 Trying to return to the waiting-room, I find I am 
 locked in. Presently a good-natured official lets me 
 out. In the meantime the cafe has closed, the book- 
 stall has fastened its windows and put out its lights. 
 The waiters on trains have thinned in numbers. Two 
 
206 Impressions of America. 
 
 poor Chinamen who have been here are talking Pigeon 
 English to a porter. 
 
 " You missed it at seven," he says ; " no more train 
 till twelve." 
 
 " Twelfy ! " says John, calmly counting his fingers ; 
 "no morey go till twelfy." 
 
 " That's so/' says the porter. 
 
 The two celestials sit down quietly to wait ; the 
 ferry-boats give out their hoarse signals, and presently 
 a number of other people come in, covered with 
 snow, a bitter wind accompanying them, as the doors 
 open and shut. They stamp their feet and shake the 
 snow from off their garments, and you hear the jingle 
 of sleigh-bells without. A farmer whose dress sug- 
 gests Mathias in " The Bells " comes in. He carries 
 a bundle. There is a slip of green laurel in his but- 
 tonhole. I avail myself of the supposed privilege of 
 the country, and talk to him. 
 
 "Yes," he says. "Christmas presents; I guess 
 that's what I've been to New York for. I live at 
 Catskill. No, not much in the way of farming. My 
 father had land in Yorkshire. Guess I am an English- 
 man, as one may say, though born on the Hudson. 
 Did I ever hear of Eip Van Winkle at Catskill ? I 
 guess so. Live there now ? No, sir ; guess it's a 
 story, ain't it ? But there was a sort of a hermit feller 
 lived on the Hudson till a year or two ago. He was 
 English. A scholar, they said, and learned. His 
 grandchild, a girl, lived with him. Did nothing but 
 read. Built the hut hisself. Never seen except when 
 he and the girl went to buy stores. It was in the 
 papers when he died, a year or two back. Broke his 
 heart, 'cause his girl skipped." 
 
 " ' Skipped ! ' I repeated. 
 
 " You are fresh, sir; green as you say in England, 
 run away that's skipping. I bought one of his 
 books when his things were sold, because I have a 
 grandchild, and know what it is. Good-night ! A 
 merry Christmas to you ! " 
 
A Wild Railway Journey. 207 
 
 No other hint of Christmas in the depot, among the 
 people, or on the walls, except the cards and illus- 
 trated English papers inside the book-stall windows. 
 I turn to ( ' John Bull and His Island," and wonder if 
 any English writer will respond with (c Jean Crapeaud 
 and His City." No country is more open to satire than 
 France; no people accept it with so little patience. 
 There are some wholesome truths in Max O'Kell's 
 brochure. It is good to see ourselves as others see us. 
 
 A quarter to eleven. It is surely time to go forth 
 in search of the Maryland. 
 
 " Better have a guide/' says a courteous official ; 
 "you can't find it without; and, by thunder, how it 
 snows ! See 'em ? " 
 
 He points to several new-comers. 
 
 " Only a few feet from the ferry and they're like 
 walking snow-drifts. See 'em ! " 
 
 The guide, as sturdy as a Derbyshire ploughboy, 
 comes along with his lantern. 
 
 " There are three ladies," I tell him, " in the private 
 waiting-room, who are to come with us." 
 
 ii. 
 
 I AM taking my wife and two girls to Baltimore for 
 the Christmas week. Last year we had our Christmas 
 dinner with Irving. This year he has said, " Let us 
 all sup together. The theatres are open on Christmas 
 day ; we must, therefore, have our pudding for supper 
 after we have seen the last of poor old Louis." 
 
 " Awkward night for ladies getting to the Mary- 
 land," says the guide. 
 
 They are well provided with cloaks and furs and 
 snow-boots, or rubbers (an absolute necessity and a 
 great comfort in America), and we all push along after 
 the guide, across the departure platform, into the 
 snowy night, the flakes fall in blinding clouds ; over 
 railway tracks which men are clearing, -the white 
 carpet soft and yielding ; between freight cars, through 
 
208 Impressions of America. 
 
 open sheds the girls enjoying it all, as only young 
 people can enjoy a snow-storm. 
 
 The flickering light of our guide's lantern is at 
 length eclipsed by the radiance of a well-illuminated 
 cabin. 
 
 "This is the office ; you can wait here; they'll tell 
 you when the Maryland's reported." 
 
 A snug room, with a great stove in the centre. The 
 men who are sitting around it move to make way for 
 us. They do not disguise their surprise at their 
 arrivals : an English family (one of them very young, 
 with her hair blowing about her face), with snow 
 enough falling from their cloaks to supply material for 
 a snow-balling match. We are evidently regarded as 
 novel visitors. Track labourers and others follow us 
 in. They carry lamps, and their general appearance 
 recalls the mining scene in "The Danites," at the 
 London Olympic. Our entrance seems as much of a 
 surprise to the others -as the arrival of " the school- 
 marm " was to the men in the Californian bar- 
 room. 
 
 Presently a smart official (not unlike a guard of the 
 Midland Railway in England as to his uniform) enters. 
 There is a swing in his gait and a lamp in his hand, as 
 a smart writer might put it. 
 
 " That gentleman will tell you all about the train/' 
 says one of the Danites, speaking in the shadow of the 
 stove. 
 
 " The Maryland" I say, addressing the officer ; 
 "I want to get on board her special train from 
 Boston/' 
 
 " Guess I can't help that ! I want to get some cars 
 off her, that's all I know," is the response, the speaker 
 eyeing me loftily, and then pushing his way towards a 
 look-out window on the other side of the cabin. 
 
 " Oh, thank you very much," I say. " You are 
 really too good. Is there any other gentleman here 
 who is anxious to tell me where I shall find the Mary- 
 land's quay, and explain how I am to get on board the 
 
A Wild Railway Journey. 209 
 
 special express, which, takes a day to do a five-hours' 
 journey ? " 
 
 "I'll show you/' says my surly friend, turning round 
 upon me and looking me all over. " I am the guard/' 
 
 " Thank you/' 
 
 " Here she comes ! " he exclaims. 
 
 I forgive him, at once, his brusqueness. He too 
 has, of course, been waiting six hours for her. 
 
 A hoarse whistle is heard on the river. The guard 
 opens the cabin-door. In rushes the snow and the 
 wind. The guard's lantern casts a gleam of light on 
 the white way. 
 
 " Be careful here," he says, assisting my girls over 
 a rough plank road. 
 
 It is an open quay over which we are pushing along. 
 The guard, now full of kind attention, holds up his 
 lamp for us, and indicates the best paths, the snow 
 filling our eyes and wetting our faces. Now we 
 mount a gangway. Then we struggle down a plank. 
 There are bustle and noise ahead of us, and the plash 
 ' ' of many waters." 
 
 " Hatton ! " shouts the familiar voice of Bram 
 Stoker, through the darkness. 
 
 " Here we are ! " is the prompt reply. 
 
 A stalwart figure pushes through the snow, and the 
 next moment my wife is under the protection of a new 
 guide. We feel our way along mazy passages now 
 upwards, now downwards that might be mysterious 
 corridors leading to "dungeons beneath the castle 
 moat," the darkness made visible by primitive lamps. 
 Presently we are on the floating raft, and thence we 
 mount the steps of a railway car. 
 
 What a change of scene it is ! from Arctic cold 
 to summer heat; from snow and rough ways to a 
 dainty parlour, with velvet-pile carpets, easy- chairs, 
 and duplex lamps ; and from the Danites to Irving, 
 Abbey, Loveday, and Miss Terry. They welcome us 
 cheerily and with Christmas greetings. 
 
 " Oh, don't mind the snow ; shake it off, it will 
 
 p 
 
2 1 o Impressions of A merica. 
 
 not hart us. Coma, let me help you. Of course, you 
 all wear snow-boots, Arctic rubbers, eh ? That's 
 right ; off with them first ! " And before we have 
 done shaking hands she is disrobing the girls, and 
 helping them off with their wraps and shoes, this 
 heroine of the romantic and classic drama, this 
 favourite of English play-goers, who is now conquer- 
 ing the New World as surely as she has conquered 
 the Old. 
 
 Every one in the theatrical profession knows how 
 kindly and natural and human, as a rule, are, and 
 have ever been, the great women of the English stage. 
 But the outside public has sometimes strange opinions 
 concerning the people of this other side of the curtain, 
 this world of art. Some of them would be surprised 
 if they could see Ellen Terry attending upon my three 
 fellow-travellers ; giving them refreshment, and, later 
 on, helping to put them to bed. They would be in- 
 terested, also, to have seen her dispensing tea to the 
 members of the company, or sitting chatting in their 
 midst about the journey and its incidents. Just as 
 womanly and tender as is her Desdemona, her Portia, 
 her Ophelia, so is she off the stage, full of sympathy, 
 touched to the quick by a tale of sorrow, excited to 
 the utmost by a heroic story. Hers is the true artistic 
 temperament. She treads the path of the highest 
 comedy as easily and with the same natural grace, as 
 she manifests in helping these girls of mine, from New 
 York, to remove their snowy clothes, and as naturally 
 as she sails through these very practical American 
 cars to make tea for her brother and sister players, 
 who love her, and are proud of her art. 
 
 m. 
 
 HAVING spent an hour in vainly trying to couple 
 Irving's private car with another in the centre of the 
 train the guard decides to attach it to the last one. 
 In this position, which eventually proved an interesting 
 
A Wild Railway Journey. 2 1 1 
 
 one, we trundle along through Jersey City, past rows 
 of shops and stores on a level with the side-walks, the 
 snow falling all the time. Here and there electric 
 arcs are shedding weird illuminations upon the un- 
 familiar scenes. By the lights in many of the houses 
 we can see that the window-panes are coated with a 
 thick frost. Now and then we stop without any 
 apparent warning, certainly without any explanation. 
 During one of these intervals we take sapper, those 
 of us who have not retired to seek such repose as may 
 be found in a railroad sleeping-car, - an institution 
 which some American travellers prefer to a regular 
 bedroom. Irving, Abbey, Stoker, Loveday, and my- 
 self, we sit down to a very excellent supper, oyster- 
 pie, cold beef, jelly, eggs, coffee, cigars. 
 
 " It is too late to tell you of our adventures prior to 
 your coming upon the train/' says Irving. " We will 
 have a long chat to-morrow. Good-night ; I am going 
 to try and get a little rest/' 
 
 He lies down upon a couch adjacent to the apart- 
 ment in which we have supped. I draw a curtain over 
 him, that shuts off his bunk from the room and the 
 general corridor of the car. You hear a good deal 
 of talk in America about " private cars." Without 
 disparaging the ingenuity and comfort of the private- 
 car system of American railroad- travelling, let me 
 say, once for all, that the term private applied to it 
 in any sense is a misnomer. There is no privacy about 
 it, nothing like as much as you may have in an 
 English carriage, to the sole occupancy of which you 
 have bought the right for a railway journey. On an 
 American train there is a conductor to each car. Then 
 there are one or more guards to the train. Add to 
 these officials, baggage-men, who are entitled to come 
 on at various stations, and news-boys, who also appear 
 to have special claims on the railway company; and 
 you count up quite a number of extra passengers who 
 may appear in your private room at any moment. 
 
 It is true that the guard of your car may exclude 
 p 2 
 
212 Impressions of America. 
 
 some of these persons ; but, as a rule, he does not. If 
 he should be so inhospitable to his fellow-man, there are 
 still left the conductors and guards, who have business 
 all over the train at all hours. There is a passage- 
 way, as you know, right through the train. On a 
 special car there is a room at each end ; one is a 
 smoking-room. This apartment, with or without your 
 permission, is occupied by the officials of the train ; 
 and on a cold night not even the most exacting tra- 
 veller would think of objecting to the arrangement. 
 But it is easy to see that this does away with all ideas 
 of privacy. 
 
 At 1.30 the train comes to a long standstill. I am 
 reading. The coloured waiter, a negro with a face 
 given over to the permanent expression of wonder, 
 has taken a seat near me, in the opposite corner of the 
 car. The end of the car opens right upon the line; 
 the door is half glass, so that we can see out into the 
 night and away down the track. To keep the outlook 
 clear I occasionally rub the frosty rime from the glass, 
 and now and then open the door and clear it from 
 snow. The negro contemplates me through his wide, 
 staring eyes. He takes a similar interest in the guards 
 and other officers of the train, who come through the 
 cars at intervals, swinging, as they walk, lamps of 
 singularly artistic patterns when compared with the 
 English railway lanterns. These guardians of the 
 train pass out of the door of the room upon the line, 
 and rarely reappear except when they come back again 
 right through the train, passing most of the would- 
 be sleepers. Irving does not, however, appear to be 
 disturbed. 
 
 It is 2.35 when the train once more begins to move. 
 For nearly an hour both the coloured servant and I 
 have, off and on, been watching a number of curious 
 demonstrations of lights away down the line behind 
 us. First a white light would appear, then a red one, 
 then a green light would be flashed wildly up and 
 down. 
 
A Wild Railway Journey. 213 
 
 The negro guesses we must be snowed up. But 
 lie doesn't know much of this line,, he says, in a 
 deprecatory tone ; only been on it once before ; 
 doesn't take much stock in it. Then he shakes his 
 woolly head mysteriously ; and what an air of mystery 
 and amazement is possible on some dark faces of this 
 African race ! We move ahead for five minutes, and 
 then we stop again. There is a clock on the inlaid 
 panel of the car over the negro's head. The time is 
 steadily recorded on the dial. It is 2.45 when we 
 advance once more. A hoarse whistle, like a fog-horn 
 at sea, breaks upon the solemnity of the night; then 
 we pass a signal-box, and a patch of light falls upon 
 our window. This is evidently the signal for another 
 pause. " 2.50," says the clock. The line behind us is 
 now alive with lanterns. White lights are moving 
 about with singular eccentricity. With my face close 
 against the glass door-way I count six different lights. 
 I also see dark forms moving about. All the lights 
 are suddenly stationary. One comes on towards the 
 train. Our guard frantically waves his light. Pre- 
 sently we stop with a jerk. The lights we have left in 
 the distance now gyrate with the same inconsequential 
 motion as the witchfires of a fairy tale, or the fiends' 
 lights in the opera of " Robert le Diable." Then they re- 
 main still again. I open the door. There is a foot of 
 snow on the platform, and the feathery flakes are 
 steadily falling. A solitary light comes towards us. 
 The bearer of it gets upon the platform, a solitary 
 sentinel. The negro looks up at me, and asks me in a 
 gentle kind of way, if I ever use sticking-plaster. 
 " Yes," I say, " sometimes." A strange question. My 
 reply appears to be a relief to him. Do I .ever use 
 sticking-plaster ! There is a long pause outside and 
 inside the car, as if some mysterious conference was 
 going on. " Was you ever on the cars when they was 
 robbed ? " the negro asks. " No," I say ; " I was 
 not/' ' ( Been on when there was shooting ? " he asks. 
 " No." ( < Has you ever heard of Jesse James and the 
 
214 ? m P Cessions of A merica . 
 
 book tliat was written about him?" "Yes," I 
 answer, "but never saw the book." "Dark night, 
 eh?" "Yes, pretty dark." " They would stop de 
 train, and get a- shooting right away, would dem James 
 boys, I tell you ! Perfeck terror dey was. No car 
 was safe. Ise believe dey was not killed at all, and 
 is only waiting for nex* chance." "You are not 
 frightened ? " I say. " Well, not zactly ; but don't 
 know who dis man is standing dere on de platform, 
 and neber was on any train of cars dat stopped so 
 much and in such lonely places ; and don't like to be 
 snowed up eider. I spoke to de brakesman about an 
 hour ago; but he don't say much." Thereupon he 
 flattens his broad nose against the window, and I take 
 up " John Bull and his Island " at the description of 
 the Christmas pudding, which sets me thinking of all 
 the gloomy things that may and do happen between 
 one Christmas Day and another; and how once in most 
 lifetimes some overwhelming calamity occurs that 
 makes you feel Fate has done its worst, and cannot 
 hurt you more. This thought is not apropos of the 
 present situation ; for, of course, there is nothing to 
 fear in the direction suggested by the negro, who has 
 worked himself up into a condition of real alarm. At 
 the same time the dangers of snow-drifts are not 
 always confined to mere delays. The newspapers, on 
 the day following our protracted journey, for example, 
 chronicled the blowing up of a locomotive, and the 
 death of driver and stoker, through running into a 
 snow-drift. The accident occurred not far from the 
 scene of one of our longest stoppages. 
 
 2.55. The man on the platform cries " Go ahead !" 
 and as the car moves he steps inside, literally covered 
 with snow. He makes no apology, but shivers and 
 shakes his coat. 
 
 " What is wrong ? " I ask. 
 
 " Train stuck in the snow ahead of us. It is an 
 awful night." 
 
A Wild Railway Journey. 215 
 
 " What were those lights in our rear ? one in par- 
 ticular." 
 
 " That was me. I have been out there an hour and 
 a half." 
 
 < < You are very cold ? " 
 
 " Frightful." 
 
 " Have a little brandy ? " 
 
 " Think I'll break up if I don't." 
 
 I gave him some brandy. From the other end of 
 the car comes the guard. 
 
 "Think we'll get round her all right now? " he 
 asks. 
 
 " Oh, yes/' says the conductor, shaking his snowy 
 clothes. 
 
 The guard goes out. He, too, carries a weight of 
 snow on his coat. 
 
 Says the officer (whom I have just saved from 
 ({ breaking up "), " I am the conductor ; but if anything 
 is wrong they'd blame me, not him ; am sent on to 
 this train, a special job." 
 
 ' ' What were you doing out there so long ? " 
 
 " Digging the points out of the snow, to push these 
 cars on to another track, and get round ahead of the 
 train that's broke down." 
 
 " And have you done it ? " 
 
 " Guess so." 
 
 It is three o'clock as he steps once more upon the 
 platform. At 3.5 the train stops suddenly. I look 
 out into the black and white night. It still snows 
 heavily. At 3.10 the conductor returns. 
 
 1 ' When do you think we will get to Baltimore ? " 
 
 " At about ten." 
 
 " What is the difficulty ? " 
 
 " Trains in front of us, trains behind us, too. You 
 would be surprised at the depth of the snow. A gang 
 of men clearing the track ahead/' 
 
 At 3.10 he goes out again into the wild night; this 
 time the snow on the platform glows red under the 
 
'2 1 6 Impressions of A merica . 
 
 light of his lamp, which exhibits the danger signal. A 
 distant whistle is heard. The conductor is pushing the 
 snow off the platform with his feet. He opens the 
 door to tell me it is drifting in places to "any height." 
 At 3.15 he says we have taken three hours to go 
 twenty miles. Looking back on the track the rails 
 show a black, deep line in the snow. Not a house 
 or a sign of life anywhere around us. "We are a 
 heavy train, eight cars," says the conductor. The 
 negro stares at us through his wide, great eyes. 
 "At Rahway we hope to get another engine," says the 
 guard. At 3.25 we are really moving along steadily. 
 " About twelve miles an hour/' says the conductor. The 
 negro smiles contentedly. " We have not met a single 
 train since we left Jersey City," says the conductor ; 
 { ' must be trains behind us, not far away either." A 
 signal station with green and red lights slips by us. 
 The swinging bell of an approaching train is heard. 
 The conductor stands on the platform and waves his 
 lamp. Our train stops. There looms suddenly out of 
 the darkness behind us a vast globe, white and glowing 
 like a sun. It comes on, growing larger, and accom- 
 panying it is the bang, bang, bang, of the engine's 
 bell, a familiar, but uncanny, sound in America. A 
 number of minor lights dance about on either side of 
 the approaching monster. It does not stop until its 
 great single blazing Cyclopean eye looks straight into 
 our car. Then a voice says, " Don't you want some 
 assistance ? " The monster is a good Samaritan. " A 
 freight train/' says the conductor, leaping down upon 
 the line. " Yes, push us along." I follow him into 
 the snow, up to my knees, and the flakes are falling in 
 blinding clouds. A man is altering our signal light. 
 " Are you going to give us another engine?" I ask. 
 " More than I can say," he replies. " This buffer's no 
 good; can't push against that," says the guard of the 
 other train. Then our conductor goes off with him 
 into the rear. It is 3.40. I turn once more to " John 
 Bull and His Island." The negro is asleep. We 
 
A Wild Railway Journey. 2 1 7 
 
 move on again, and gradually leave the locomotive 
 Cyclops behind, its great, sun- like eye getting smaller. 
 A few minutes more, and it follows us. We pull up at 
 a switch-station. There is some difficulty with the 
 posts. I go out and lend a hand at getting them clear 
 of snow. Return very cold and wet. Happily the 
 car is kept at a standing heat of 80 to 90. " This 
 freight train started an hour and a half behind us/' 
 says the conductor. ' ' What about the train ahead ? 3J 
 "Just got clear of it at last, switched us on to 
 another line. Hope we'll get on now." At 3.50 we 
 are really going ahead, quite at a brisk pace. Suddenly 
 another light behind us ; suddenly that ominous bell. 
 It reminds me of the storm-bell off Whitby, that 
 Irving and I sat listening to, one autumn night, a 
 year or two ago. The conductor had passed through 
 the cars. Is this new train going to run us down ? 
 It comes along swinging its bell. Just as the possi- 
 bility of a collision seems ominous the new-comer 
 veers to the left and passes us, We are evidently on 
 a single line of rails, with switch-stations at intervals 
 for trains to pass and repass. . Our unhappy train 
 stops once more. Another comes pounding along, 
 with its one blazing light and its tolling bell. It passes 
 us defiantly, as the other has done. The new-comer 
 is, however, only an engine this time. ' ' Assistance, 
 no doubt," I say to myself. I open the door. The 
 snow beats in with a rush of wind. The glass is 
 covered with ice. All else is quiet, everybody asleep 
 in the train. The negro is dreaming ; he pulls ugly 
 faces. I rub the ice off the window. The conductor 
 is out in the snow with several lamps, searching for 
 points. He is kicking at the rails with his boots. A 
 man joins him with a shovel. They work away. At 
 four o'clock our train groans and screams ; it moves 
 very quietly. The conductor plods back through the 
 snow. We stop. At 4.5 the conductor and several 
 others are digging on the line. Clearing points, no 
 doubt. There are switch-lights right and left of them. 
 
2 1 8 Impressions of A merica . 
 
 Now the conductor climbs once more upon the plat- 
 form, leaving a red lamp away on the track behind 
 him. Another train is heard bellowing ; another bell 
 following ; another great lamp gleams along the track, 
 smaller red lights showing upon its white beam, over 
 which the snow falls. This other locomotive comes right 
 into us, its great blinding eye blazing like a furnace. 
 The negro wakes up with a cry. " Ah, you fool ! " 
 exclaims the conductor, " what's the matter? " " Got 
 help now/' he says to me, " at last ; this will push, 
 and there is another one in front/ 7 The rear engine 
 pants and pushes, her cow-catcher literally covered 
 with a snow-bank. There is a great fuss about coupling 
 our car upon this panting assistant. " Is it only an 
 engine, or has it cars to draw ? " " It had a train of 
 cars ; we have left them on a siding. We shall be all 
 right now/' 
 
 " What's going on ? " is suddenly asked in words 
 and tones not unlike a voice in " The Bells/' 
 " what's going on ? " " We are, I hope, soon," I 
 reply to my friend, who has pushed aside his Astra- 
 chan cloak and the car-curtains, and is looking curiously 
 at us. The negro attendant wakes up and goes 
 towards him. " What is it ? " Oh, nothing, sah/' 
 says the coloured gentleman. " Only getting another 
 engine," says the conductor. "What for?" asks 
 Irving (he has really been to sleep) . " To check our 
 speed/' I say ; " we have been going too fast." " Oh, 
 you astonish me! " says Irving. " Good-night, then ! " 
 The clock marks 4.30. " Good-night, indeed ! " I 
 reply. " So say we all of us/' murmurs Loveday, 
 as I pass his bunk in search of my own ; " what a time 
 we are having ! " 
 
Christmas. 2 1 9 
 
 XIY. 
 
 CHRISTMAS, AND AN INCIDENT BY THE 
 WAY. 
 
 At Baltimore Street Scenes Christmas Wares Pretty 
 Women in " Eubber Cloaks "Contrasts Street Hawkers 
 Southern Blondes Furs and Diamonds Behearsing under 
 Difficulties Blacks and Whites Negro Philosophy 
 Honest Work " The Best Company on its Legs I have 
 ever seen " Our Christmas Supper " Absent Friends " 
 Pictures in the Fire and afterwards An intercepted Con- 
 tribution to Magazine Literature Correcting a Falsehood 
 Honesty and Fair Play. 
 
 BALTIMORE Street is the Broadway of the Monumental 
 City. It also suggests Chestnut Street in Phila- 
 delphia, more particularly in the matter of sign-boards. 
 A. city of stores and offices, it proclaims its various 
 businesses in signs of every conceivable shape. They 
 swing from ornamental brackets over doorways, and 
 hang right across the pavements. They are of many 
 shapes, but as to colour are invariably black and gold. 
 The inscriptions upon them are characteristic; some 
 of them are strange to the non-travelled Englishmen. 
 I note a few of them : " Gent's Neck Wear/' " Fine 
 Jewellery/' " Men's Furnishing/' this latter is the 
 general sign of American hosiers and shirt-makers, 
 " Diamonds," " Fine Shoes," " Dry Goods," " Im- 
 ported Goods," " Books," " Cheap Railroad Tickets," 
 " Cheap Tickets for Chicago," " Saddlery/' "Adams' 
 
2 2 o Impressions of A merica. 
 
 Express." To these are added the names of the 
 dealers. The " Cheap Kailroad Tickets " is a branch 
 of the speculative operations in theatrical admissions. 
 ' ' Adams' Express " is a familiar sign everywhere. It 
 represents the great and universal system of baggage 
 distribution. Adams and other firms will take charge 
 of a traveller's luggage, or any other kind of goods, 
 and " check " it through to any part of the United 
 States, possibly to any corner of the world. To-day, 
 in honour of Christmas, the ordinary signs have been 
 supplemented by such attractive proclamations as 
 " Holiday Presents/' " Toys for the Season," " For 
 Christmas and New Year's," " Home-made Christmas 
 Puddings." At the doors of tobacco stores the figure of 
 a North American Indian, in complete war-paint, offers 
 you a bundle of the finest cigars, and his tomahawk is 
 poised for action in case you decline his invitation to 
 "Try them." In New York this coloured commercial 
 statuary is varied with an occasional " Punch," and by 
 many buxom ballet-girls in short dresses and chignons. 
 But the taste of Baltimore, Philadelphia, Boston, and 
 Chicago runs in the direction of the Indian. Nowhere 
 do you see the blackamoor, once popular at the door of 
 English tobacconists ; nor, except at Brooklyn, have I 
 seen on the American side of the Atlantic the kilted 
 Highlander, with his " mull " as a sign for the infor- 
 mation or temptation of snuff-takers. At Chicago 
 there is a Scotch sculptor who has ornamented the ex- 
 terior of more than one store with life-size realizations 
 of the heroes of some of Burns' s most popular poems. 
 Several of these are represented as snuff-takers ; but 
 the collection includes a few really admirable studies. 
 The city architect, by the way, at Chicago, is a Scotch- 
 man, and he is responsible for the fine designs of the 
 chief public buildings. Baltimore is not singular in 
 its habit of pictorial signs, the origin of which may 
 possibly be traced to old English custom. The saddler 
 exhibits the gilded head of a horse; the watchmaker 
 hangs out a clock ; the glover a hand; the dry-goods 
 
Christmas. 2 2 r 
 
 stores display bright rugs and carpets. Now and then 
 the cabinet-makers show their goods on the pavements. 
 Many stores erect handsome outside glass-case stands 
 for exhibiting knick-knacks at their doorways. The 
 fruit shops open their windows on the street. Itinerant 
 dealers in oranges, bananas, and grapes rig up tent- 
 like houses of business under the windows of established 
 traders (for which heavy rents are paid, notably (C down- 
 town" in New York), and all this gives a pleasant 
 variety of life and colour to the street. One is every- 
 where reminded of the excellence of English manufac- 
 tures, "English Tanned Gloves," "English Storm- 
 coats," " English Cloth /' and many other commercial 
 compliments are paid to " Imported Goods/' 
 
 It is three o'clock in the day, and while Irving, his 
 lieutenant, Loved ay, and his able subalterns, Arnot 
 and Allen, are getting the stage of the Academy of 
 Music into some kind of shape for the Christmas-Eve 
 performance, I plod through the rain and slush to 
 make my first acquaintance with this chief street of 
 Baltimore. It is curiously picturesque, in spite of the 
 weather and the dirty snow, which is melting and 
 freezing almost simultaneously. Here and there the 
 pavements are slabs of ice ; here and there they are 
 sloppy snow-drifts. But a surging crowd covers every 
 foot of them. The roadway presents a continual block 
 of tram-cars, buggies, waggons, carts, and carriages. 
 Women leaving and getting upon the cars plunge in 
 and out of snow-heaps and watery gutters. It is a 
 very democratic institution, the American car. The 
 people crowd it as they please. There is no limit to 
 .its capacity. It may carry as many persons as can get 
 into it or stand upon its platforms. This afternoon 
 the cars are human hives on wheels. One notices that 
 the crowd chiefly consists of women. They fill the 
 street. All of them are shopping. They are all 
 talking, and all at the same time. This is a peculiarity 
 of our charming cousins. Their costume on this wet 
 afternoon is a very sensible one. It might almost be 
 
222 Impressions of America. 
 
 called a uniform. A black water-proof cloak and hood 
 is all the costume you can see. Often it is a pretty, 
 bright face that the hood encases. Now and then 
 some woman, a trifle more vain or reckless than her 
 sisters, wears a hat and feathers with her water-proof 
 cloak. This incongruous arrangement, however, helps 
 to give colour to the crowd, a desirable point on so 
 dull, grey, and cloudy a day as this. The men who 
 move about here are mostly smoking. They do not 
 appear to have any hand in the shopping. The 
 ladies are doing all that, and are very much in 
 earnest. Not one of them but deigns to carry a 
 parcel. The children are evidently coming in for 
 precious gifts. In one shop window " Father Christ- 
 mas " himself is busy showing his toys to a numerous 
 audience. He is made up with white flowing locks 
 and beard, and ruddy, though aged, features. His 
 dress is an ermine tippet, scarlet frock trimmed with 
 gold, and top-boots of patent leather, quite the 
 nursery ideal of his genial majesty. Another store 
 has filled its window with a skating scene. A company 
 of gay dolls are sliding for their very lives. They go 
 through their lively work without any change of 
 expression, and their gyrations never alter; but the 
 spectators change, and the store within is full of 
 bustle. I look around for the poor people we would see 
 in a London group of this character. I seek in vain 
 for the Smikes and Twists who would be feasting their 
 sunken eyes on such a free show in London. I try to 
 find the slipshod women, with infants huddled to their 
 cold bosoms. They are not here. A boy of twelve, 
 with a cigarette in his hand, asks me for a light. 
 Another " guesses " his t ( papa " will buy " the whole 
 concern " for him if he wants it. No poor people. 
 The Irish are a small community here. How one's 
 mind goes wandering to the West End of London and 
 to the Strand and Fleet Street, to the Seven Dials and 
 to Katcliffe Highway, where (it is five hours later 
 there than here) Christmas Eve is being celebrated 
 
Christmas. 223 
 
 with such contrasts of fortune and variations of wealth 
 and poverty, of joy and sorrow, as make the heart 
 ache to think upon. Not a single poor-looking person 
 do I note in this long, busy street of Baltimore. No- 
 body begs from me ; and the hawkers on the pavement 
 offer me their wares with an air of almost aggressive 
 independence. " Japanese silk, ten cents," one cries, 
 with a bundle of small handkerchiefs in his hand. 
 " The magic mouse," says another, vending a 
 mechanical toy. <e Now, then, one dime a packet," is 
 the proposal of a third,, offering material for decorating 
 Christmas trees. "Try' 'em!" almost commands a 
 fourth, as I pause opposite his stand of peanuts. If 
 you buy, nobody thanks you, and if you thank the 
 vendor, he is surprised and will probably stammer out, 
 " You're welcome." Yet "this is the Cavalier city," 
 a friend reminds me, " and aristocratic to the core." 
 
 The fruit stores are bright with tropical fruits ; but 
 not with the roses, carnations, pinks, and smilax creeper, 
 so plentiful in New York, Boston, and Philadelphia. I 
 pause to scan the faces of the crowd. It is a popular 
 fiction in England that the women of the South are 
 brunettes. The truth is, the further south you go, the 
 fairer the women, and the more delicate their com- 
 plexions. In Baltimore Street I observe quite a number 
 of ladies with red hair. Many of them are blondes, 
 who might have been natives of Lincolnshire. They 
 are all pretty ; some are beautiful ; and their charms 
 certainly obtained no fictitious aid from their dress 
 or surroundings. Water-proof cloaks and a muddy 
 street could not help them. Baltimoreans may say I 
 should look for beauty in North Charles Street, or 
 Mount Vernon Place, if I expect to see it en promenade. 
 But I am not looking for it. I find it in the great, 
 busy, Christmas crowd, tramping through the snow, 
 and buying toys and candies for the children. The 
 " carriage ladies " wear furs, and those everlasting 
 diamond ear-rings, without which expensive ornament 
 few American women appear to consider themselves 
 
224 Impressions of A merle a . 
 
 "real ladies." New York and Boston modify the 
 fashion in this respect, though you may still see 
 women sitting down to breakfast at hotel restaurants 
 in silks, satins, and diamonds. 
 
 ii. 
 
 WHILE I have been studying Baltimore Street darkness 
 has fallen upon it. The gas-lamps and the electric arcs 
 are beginning their nightly competition as I retrace 
 my steps to the Academy of Music. Irving, who 
 arrived in Baltimore at two, after a journey of forty- 
 two hours, has just left the stage, I am told, <( gone 
 to get a little rest." 
 
 " Have you had a rehearsal ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes,' 7 says Loveday, who is directing the last 
 finishing touches to the throne-room set for " Louis XL" 
 " Tight work, eh ? Got into the town at two scenery 
 to unpack some of it is still on the train. But we 
 get through it. The chief has his rehearsal somehow 
 finished half an hour ago in two hours the curtain 
 goes up. Had to do it all ourselves. Shall have to 
 turn Arnot's men into Burgundians. No help to be 
 had of any kind, it is Christmas, you know, and 
 Christmas comes but once a year, thank goodness ! 
 The chief carpenter, who is also the gasman, has not 
 turned up. Some of the other fellows are 'Merrie- 
 Christmasing/ also. Tried to get some additional 
 assistance in the way of labour. Found a few chaps 
 loafing ; asked them if they wanted work. Said they 
 did not mind. Offered them good wages. ' Oh, no/ 
 they said ; ' get niggers to do that/ They were above 
 it. I acted on their advice. The moment it was dark 
 the ' coloured boys/ as they call themselves, knocked 
 off. Said they never worked after dark. ' Night is 
 the time to rest and sleep/ they said. ' For black 
 men, perhaps/ I replied ; ' but not for white/ Seemed 
 to me as if they said, ' You had us for slaves a good 
 many years ; it is our turn now/ Funny, eh ? 
 
Christmas. 225 
 
 They wouldn't go on working. However, we shall be 
 all right. It's a good thing I'm not the only Mark 
 Tapley in the company, don't you know; and the 
 governor, by Jove ! he stands it like well, like only 
 Henry Irving can ! " 
 
 Two hours later Irving is received with rapturous 
 applause by a comparatively small audience. " More 
 power to them ! " he says ; " for they have left cosey 
 hearths to drive or tramp through the slush of the first 
 snow of the Baltimore winter." And the company, all 
 round, never played with more spirit. " It is the only 
 return we can make to those who have come to see us 
 on such a night," said Irving to several of them before 
 the curtain went up, " to do our very best." And 
 they did. Terriss was never more successful as 
 Nemours. The audience was cold at first, but as the 
 dramatic story unrolled itself under the grip of the 
 master, they caught the infection of its grim interest, 
 and their applause rang out heartily and long. Irving 
 developed the leading character with more than 
 ordinary care, and was called and recalled after every 
 act, a triple call at the close including Terriss, whose 
 manliness of gait and manner are peculiarly acceptable 
 to every audience. 
 
 " There is one thing I observe about this company/' 
 said the Boston manager : " it walks well ; it is the 
 best company on its legs I have ever seen. Our young 
 men, as a rule, particularly in costume, turn out their 
 toes too much, or are knock-kneed ; all your people 
 stand well on their feet, it is a treat to see them." 
 
 " Yes," says Irving, smiling, when this is reported to 
 him. " I engaged them to show me off. But did not 
 Emerson say that the Englishman is, of all other people, 
 the man who stands firmest in his shoes ? There is 
 one thing to be said about our cousins on this side, 
 they do not stand still ; they are like young Rapid in 
 ( A Cure for the Heart- Ache/ always on the move. 
 And when they are behind a trotting-horse how they 
 go ! I am a little disappointed, so far, with the sleigh- 
 
226 Impressions of America. 
 
 ing as a matter of speed but the snow was too soft 
 when we took our first drive at Boston." 
 
 in. 
 
 IT is the custom in America to open the theatres on 
 Christmas Day. The doors of the Baltimore house 
 could not have been opened in more wretched weather. 
 The streets were impassable,, except for carriages, or 
 for pedestrians in " Arctic rubbers/' or on stilts. The 
 snow was melting everywhere. Nothing had been 
 done to clear the pavements. They were full of 
 treacherous puddles, or equally treacherous snowdrifts. 
 The Turks blow horns at certain periods of the year, 
 to frighten away evil spirits. I know of no explanation 
 for the blowing of horns at Baltimore ; but the boys 
 indulge themselves in this exercise to a bewildering 
 extent at Christmas. Carol-singing is evidently not a 
 custom there, nor " waits." I heard a boy shouting at 
 the top of his voice the refrain of a popular ditty : 
 
 " In the morning, in the morning, 
 When Gabriel blows his trumpet, 
 In the morning." 
 
 But I conclude that he had only adapted these 
 modern words to what was evidently an old custom at 
 Baltimore ; for he blew his horn vigorously at the end 
 of the refrain, as if competing for supremacy with 
 Gabriel himself. 
 
 "You are right; it does not seem like Christmas," 
 said Irving, as we sat down to supper close upon 
 midnight, a section of that same party which, a year 
 previously, had gathered about the round table in the 
 host's Beefsteak Club room at the Lyceum Theatre. 
 
 ' f It seems so strange/' said Ellen Terry, " to play 
 on Christmas Day ; that, to me, makes the time wholly 
 unlike Christmas. On the other hand, there is the 
 snow, and we shall have an English Christmas pudding, 
 I brought it from home, and my mother made it." 
 
Christmas. 227 
 
 "Well done; bless her heart!" said Irving; "but 
 I have played before on Christmas Day. They open 
 the theatres in Scotland on Christmas Day, They don't 
 pay much attention, I am told, to church festivals in 
 Boston and New England ; but one would have ex- 
 pected it in the South, where they are observing the 
 social character of Christmas, I learn, more and more 
 every year ; and not alone to the snow, but to that 
 fact, I am told, we are to attribute the small houses 
 we had last night and to-night." 1 
 
 " Small for America and for us," chimed in Loveday ; 
 "but what we should, after our experience, call bad 
 business here would be very good in England." 
 
 "Yes, that's true," said Irving; "but here's holly 
 and mistletoe, where did they come from ?" 
 
 He was looking at a very English decoration that 
 swung from the chandelier. 
 
 " From London, with the pudding," said Miss 
 Terry. 
 
 The coloured attendants took great interest in our 
 celebration of the festival. If they could have put 
 their thoughts into words they would probably have 
 expressed surprise that artists of whom they had 
 heard so much could entertain each other in so simple 
 a fashion. 
 
 When the pudding came on the table it was not 
 lighted. 
 
 " Who has had charge of this affair ? " Irving asked, 
 looking slyly at everybody but his acting manager. 
 
 " I have, of course," replied Stoker. 
 
 " That accounts for it," said Irving. " Who ever 
 heard of a Christmas pudding without a blaze, except, 
 perhaps, in Ireland ? " 
 
 " Oh, we'll soon light it up," said Stoker. " Waiter, 
 bring some brandy ! " 
 
 Presently the pudding flamed up, to the delight of 
 the African gentlemen who served it. 
 
 1 The theatre was crowded during the remainder of the 
 week. 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 Impressions of America. 
 
 " I fear there is no sauce/' said one of the ladies. 
 
 " No sauce ! Christmas pudding and no sauce ! " I 
 exclaimed. " Here's stage management ! " 
 
 " Sauce ! " said Stoker, " to plum pudding ? " 
 
 "Yes, always in England/' said Loveday. 
 
 This kind of mild banter was checked by Irving 
 filling his glass with champagne, and observing, 
 " After the experience of last year, of course we ought 
 not to have entrusted Stoker with the pudding. How- 
 ever, let us make the best of it. It seems a very 
 good pudding, after all. I want you all to fill your 
 glasses. Let u,s wish each other in the old way, ' A 
 merry Christmas and a happy New Year/ and ' Grod 
 bless our absent friends ! " 
 
 Some of us gulped the wine a little spasmodically, 
 and some of us found it hard to keep back our tears. 
 Who can pledge that familiar toast, and not think of 
 the empty chairs that seem so very, very empty at 
 Christmas ! 
 
 When the women and my girls had been escorted to 
 their carriages, and sent home to their hotel, with 
 flowers and bon-bons on their laps, we three men of 
 the little party sat round the fire and talked of old 
 times. Irving had ordered the biggest logs the hotel's 
 wood-yard afforded to be heaped into the grate. The 
 fire cracked and spluttered and blazed, and had in the 
 lower bars of the grate a solid, steady glow of white 
 ash that was truly English; and I think we each 
 looked into it for a time, busy with our own individual 
 thoughts and reflections. Presently, under the more 
 cheerful influences of the season, we talked of many 
 things, and finally drifted into " shop/' The chief 
 'subject was started by Irving himself, and it dealt 
 with the novel treatment of the next Shakespeare play 
 which he intends to produce at the Lyceum. He 
 looked into the fire and saw it there, scene by scene, 
 act by act. As he saw it, he described it. 
 
 It was in the glamour of Irving's rosiest pictures 
 that I said good -night, to have the witchery of the fire- 
 
Christmas. 229 
 
 light dispelled by the outer bitterness of the weather, 
 and the lonely, desolate appearance of the city. The 
 streets were now as hard as they had been soft ; 
 the pools were ice, the snow adamant; icicles hung 
 down from the eaves of every house. The roadways 
 glistened in the lamplight. Not a soul was abroad. 
 It might have been a city of the dead. A strain of 
 Christmas music would have redeemed the situation. 
 Even a London " waits " at its worst, such as one 
 awakens to with a growl on cold nights at home, 
 would have been a God-send. Not a sound; not a 
 footstep ; no distant jangle of car-bells ; not even a 
 policeman; only the winter night itself, with a few 
 chilly-looking stars above, and the hard, icy streets 
 below. 
 
 IV. 
 
 IT is a long way from Baltimore to Brooklyn, 
 five or six hundred miles, Brooklyn to Chicago is 
 over a thousand ; yet these were the journeys that 
 followed each other. The company, as you already 
 know, travelled from Boston to Baltimore; from 
 Baltimore it went to Brooklyn ; and from the city of 
 churches its next trip was to the great city on Lake 
 Michigan. But, not to get ahead of events, we will 
 pause at Brooklyn : first, to say that the theatre 
 was crowded there all the week ; secondly, for Irving 
 to relate an incident by the way; and, thirdly, to 
 introduce the succeeding chapter, which will describe 
 our departure therefrom. 
 
 Irving was a little ruffled during his journey from 
 Baltimore by the sting of one of those vagrant gad- 
 flies of the press that are not confined to the American 
 continent, but, as a matter of course, exist in that 
 broader field in large numbers, and are of greater 
 variety than in the narrower limits of Great Britain. 
 
 " I promised to write a little gossip of my expe- 
 riences in America for the magazine, and I think 
 
 the Baltimore incident is a very good subject, told as 
 
230 Impressions of America. 
 
 an episode of the trip, with just a few lines about my 
 reception. What do you think ? " 
 
 " Very good,, indeed/' I said. 
 
 ' ' Ah, I'm glad you like the notion, because I have 
 written it. Here it is ; Fll read it to you.-" 
 
 " The Baltimore man will feel nattered when he 
 learns how much you have taken his Tribune despatch 
 to heart," I said. 
 
 " I don't care for that at all ; nor would I, as you 
 know, have thought of answering him, only that he 
 put his falsehood into so ingeniously damaging a 
 shape. But no matter, this is what I have written : 
 
 "AN INCIDENT OF MY AMERICAN TOUR. 
 
 " The Sunday newspapers of America are the largest 
 and certainly the most amusing of the week. They 
 were especially welcome to me during the railway 
 journey between Baltimore and Brooklyn. The land- 
 scape was striking now and then; but we were travel- 
 ling literally through a snow world, and the mono- 
 tony of it was a trine tedious. 
 
 " I turned to the New York papers, a bundle of 
 which had been brought ' on board ' (this term is ap- 
 plied to railway trains as to ships in America), and 
 was not long in coming upon a surprise. It was in 
 the shape of a special telegraphic despatch from 
 Baltimore to the Tribune, of December 30th. I read 
 that ' Henry Irving closed a very successful week at 
 the Academy of Music/ that his 'audiences were 
 large / that ' his success was due to curiosity ;' that 
 ' " Hamlet " raised a storm of criticism about his new- 
 fangled ideas, and when the ghost appeared on the 
 stage in a green gown the audience roared at the 
 strange sight, to the evident embarrassment of the 
 ghost;' that f individually, however, Henry Irving' s 
 stay in Baltimore was of the pleasantest nature / and 
 that ( Dr. W. Grim, 2 the well-known surgeon, gave him; 
 
 2 A reception was given to Mr. Henry Irving, the distinguished 
 English, actor, by Dr. Win. H. Grim, at his residence, 185, W. 
 Fayette Street, last evening. At the close of the performance 
 
Christmas. 2 3 1 
 
 a reception, where he proved himself an entertaining 
 conversationalist. He was favourably impressed with 
 Americans, but said they were not yet fully educated to 
 appreciate true artistic ability ; they were progress- 
 ing-/ 
 
 "As I had never remembered the closet scene in 
 ' Hamlet* to have been more impressive, and particu- 
 larly as regarded the appearance of the ghost ; as the 
 question of curiosity, per se, had never been raised by 
 the local press ; as on our first two nights we had bad 
 
 at the Academy, Mr. Irving, accompanied by his stage manager, 
 H. J. Loveday ; acting manager, Bram Stoker ; J. H. Copleston, 
 and James H. Plaser, representing Manager Abbey, of New York, 
 and Mr. Joseph. Hatton, the English author, drove to Dr. Crim's 
 residence, where they were received by the host, and presented 
 to a number of journalists, representing the city press, and other 
 gentlemen. Among those present were Messrs. John W. McCoy, 
 Wm. T. Croasdale, John Y. Hood, Innes Randolph, Harry J. 
 Ford, Henry D. Beall, C. M. Fairbanks, E. N. Vallandigham, 
 Frederick L. Holmes, Prof. Charles G. Edwards, Samuel W. 
 Fort, Manager of the Academy ; Harry P. Wilson, Harry F. 
 Powell, Harry J. Conway, Charles F. Meany, John W. Albaugh, 
 of Holliday -street Theatre; Chas. Reynolds, and "W". I. Cook. 
 The affair was wholly informal, but was apparently all the more 
 agreeable on that account. Mr. Irving, upon being presented, 
 expressed his gratification at meeting the representatives of the 
 Baltimore press, and during the evening manifested the utmost 
 cordiality of manner. He is a delightful conversationalist, and 
 for a couple of hours entertained groups of attentive listeners. 
 His impressions of Baltimore, as far as he had seen, were very 
 favourable, and he was much pleased with the audiences that 
 had greeted him during the week at the Academy. Speaking 
 of the Academy, he remarked that its acoustic properties a rare 
 quality in a theatre of that size were among the very best he 
 had ever known. About midnight the visitors repaired to the 
 dining-room, where a tempting repast, with choice wines, was 
 enjoyed. Adjourning thence to the library, the guests indulged 
 in a fragrant Havana, and another hour slipped by almost 
 unconsciously in pleasant social intercourse. During the evening 
 Mr. Irving appeared much interested in the rare collection of 
 antiques, art- works, bric-a-brac, and articles of virtu that adorn 
 the parlour and library of the genial host, and in the collection 
 of which he has spent much time and labour. The Day (Balti- 
 more), Dec. 28, 1883. 
 
232 Impressions of America. 
 
 houses, and on our last two the theatre was crowded ; 
 as the remark attributed to me at Dr. Crimes was a 
 false report, calculated to injure me in the eyes of the 
 American people, this newspaper despatch, I confess, 
 annoyed me. 
 
 " I consulted my friends on the train as to the 
 advisability of contradicting the latter part of it. 
 
 " The general verdict was against me. Said an 
 American journalistic friend, ' If you get into a con- 
 troversy of that kind, it will be never-ending.' 
 
 ' ' But it is not a question for controversy ; it is a 
 question of fact. If this man's statement is allowed to 
 go forth, I simply stand before the American people as 
 a downright prig/ 
 
 ' ' ' If you take the trouble to contradict every mis- 
 representation of what you say and do, you will have 
 no other occupation/ 
 
 " ( So far this is the only thing I have cared to contra- 
 dict ; for I think the press, as a rule, has been generous 
 to me, and to all of us. As for the point about the 
 " ghost," that does not matter ; it is a lie, and, even if it 
 be malicious, it will be corrected wherever we play 
 " Hamlet." It is true, our friend of the Standard 
 may publish it; but truth will prevail even against 
 his curiously persistent misrepresentations/ 
 
 " ' Oh, but/ said my adviser, and he was backed by 
 others, the London Standard will not repeat such 
 obvious nonsense, and the American people will not 
 believe a mere Baltimore correspondent. Take no 
 notice of it/ 
 
 "Thus the matter rested until the close of the journey. 
 I hope I endure criticism with becoming fortitude, 
 but a wilful and malicious falsehood reflecting upon my 
 personal conduct frets me. I therefore resolved to send 
 the following letter to the editor of the Tribune (who 
 had devoted much valuable space to my work, and 
 whose personal courtesy I shall always remember) : 
 
 " ' SIR, I value so highly the good opinion of the American 
 people that it is painful to me to see any estimate of their edu- 
 
Christmas. 233 
 
 cation and culture misrepresented. In your journal of to-day 
 a Baltimore despatch states that I have said : " The Americans 
 are not yet fully educated to appreciate true artistic ability ; 
 they are progressing." This statement is utterly untrue ; and, 
 while I take this opportunity to contradict it, I feel sure that 
 America by this time knows me sufficiently well to believe that 
 I am incapable of uttering such conceited nonsense, or of the 
 bad taste and ingratitude which the correspondent desires to fix 
 upon me. 
 
 " ' Faithfully yours, 
 
 " ' HENRY IRVING.' 
 
 " Sometimes instinct is one's best guide in dealing 
 with mere personal matters. The invidious character 
 of the newspaper report in this case is apparent, and 
 my letter was, in many directions, referred to as a well- 
 advised and necessary rejoinder to a calumny. The 
 Tribune mentioned it in the following terms, a day or 
 two afterwards : 
 
 " ' Mr. Irving's recent card in the Tribune, concerning the 
 absurd charge that he had disparaged American audiences, was 
 graceful and manly. An imputation of invidious remarks to 
 those persons who are prosperous in the public esteem is one of 
 the commonest methods of malicious detraction. It has been 
 used, of course, against Mr. Irving, who is altogether too 
 fortunate a man for envy and malice to endure. An old re- 
 mark, made by the poet Samuel Eogers, applies to this case : 
 " To succeed is no little crime in the eyes of those who fail ; 
 and those who cannot climb will endeavour to pull you down by 
 the skirts." ' 
 
 " The c absurd charge ' was not too absurd, I learned 
 later, for it appeared in the cable correspondence of the 
 Standard. You ask me for a few notes on my work 
 in this great country. I hope you may consider this 
 
 ?ersonal matter of sufficient interest. From the first 
 have been received with unbounded kindness; 
 from the first I have played to large and enthusiastic 
 audiences. My most sanguine hopes never reached 
 so high as the success I have realized. Here and 
 there, prompted, possibly, by the preliminary appeal 
 of the Standard to the American people ( not to nail my 
 ears to the pump ' (as the Herald put it in commenting 
 
234 Impressions of A merica . 
 
 upon the article), and, encouraged by a parchment 
 pamphlet circulated here, some few press-men, of the 
 Baltimore stamp, have had their malicious fling at me ; 
 but I have reason to be deeply grateful to the American 
 critics and to the American people for judging me and 
 my work in a spirit of honesty and fair play. The 
 study of a life-time, and the conscientious working out 
 of my own convictions in regard to the representation 
 of stage stories in a natural manner, have been stamped 
 with the approval of the American people ; and I shall 
 return to my native land very proud of their artistic 
 endorsement and their personal friendship. 
 
 "HENRY IRVING. 
 
 ' ' There ! What do you think of it ? " 
 
 " It is excellent/' I said, ( ' and most interesting ; but 
 I would rather see it in ' Henry Irving' s Impressions of 
 America ' than in the -" 
 
 And here it is accordingly, an intercepted contribu- 
 tion to an English magazine. 
 
 " I thought," he said, " the editor would publish it 
 as a ' P.S./ after the manner of other contributions 
 about the stage." 
 
 " No doubt/' I replied ; ' f but I think we will sand- 
 wich it between our chapters on Baltimore and the trip 
 to Chicago." 
 
From Brooklyn to Chicago. 235 
 
 XV. 
 FKOM BROOKLYN TO CHICAGO. 
 
 " Fussy "The Brooklyn Ferry Crossing the North Eiver 
 A Picturesque Crowd Brooklyn Bridge at Night Warned 
 against Chicago Conservatism of American Critics Dangers 
 of the Eoad Eailway-train Bandits An early Interviewer 
 A Eeporter's Story Life on a Private Car Miss Terry 
 and her " Luck " American Women. 
 
 THE clocks are hammering out the midnight hour 
 on Saturday, January 5th, as several carriages dash 
 over the snowy streets of Brooklyn, one of them made 
 more conspicuous than the rest by the antics of an 
 attendant dog. It is a black and white fox terrier, 
 with a suggestion of the lurcher in its pedigree. Busy 
 with many tram-cars and a variety of other traffic, the 
 streets are bright with gas and electric lamps. " Fussy " 
 is quite a foreigner in Brooklyn; carriage, horses, 
 and driver are strange to him. One looks out to see 
 the sagacious animal leaping along through the crowd, 
 never heeding the calls of boys and men, now making 
 short cuts to head the vehicle, and now dropping 
 behind. 
 
 " You will lose him one day," I say to Fussy's owner, 
 by way of warning. 
 
 " Oh, no," says Miss Terry. " He follows my carriage 
 everywhere, day or night, going to the theatre or leaving 
 it, strange town or otherwise. I have a small piece 
 of carpet for him to lie upon in my dressing-room. 
 
236 Impressions of America. 
 
 Sometimes, just as we are leaving for the theatre, my 
 maid pretends to forget it. But Fussy will dart back 
 to my room and bring it, dragging it downstairs into 
 the street, and only dropping it by the carriage-door. 
 One day, at New York, he leaped into the hotel 
 elevator with it, and out again on the ground floor, as 
 if he had been accustomed to elevators all his life." 
 
 We are three, Miss Terry, Irving, and myself. 
 We are making our way to the Brooklyn ferry. The 
 boat belonging to the Pennsylvania Railroad is waiting 
 to convey us across the North River to the Desbrosses- 
 street depot of that well-known corporation. " Fussy " 
 is there as soon as we are, and poor " Charlie/' who 
 is getting blind, has to be carried aboard. Nearly all 
 the members of the company are here already. They 
 are a picturesque group in the somewhat uncertain 
 light of distant lamps, and a world of stars sparkling 
 in a frosty sky that seems further away from the earth 
 than our English firmament. Mr. Terriss looks like a 
 dashing Capt. Hawksley on his travels, fur coat, cap, 
 self-possessed air, and all. Mr. Tyars wears a " Tarn 
 O'Shanter" and ulster. He might be the laird of a 
 Scotch county, just come down from the hills. The 
 grey-haired, pale-faced gentleman, muffled to the eyes 
 in fur cap and comforter, is Mr. Mead, whose imperial 
 stride as "the buried majesty of Denmark" is repeated 
 here in response to the call of a friend in the cabin. 
 Mr. Howe carries his years and experience with an 
 elastic gait, and a fresh, pleasant face. He is a notable 
 figure in the group, dressed in every respect like an 
 English gentleman, overcoat, hat, gloves. He has a 
 breezy, country manner, and, if one did not know him, 
 one might say, " this is a Yorkshire man, who farms 
 his own land, going to the West to have a look at 
 Kansas, and perhaps at Manitoba." Mr. Ball, the 
 musical conductor, wears his fur collar and spectacles 
 with quite a professional air. Norman Forbes brings 
 with him ideas of Bond Street, and Robertson, who 
 3ings " Hey, Nonnie," to the swells in Leonato's gar- 
 
From Brooklyn to Chicago. 237 
 
 den, is wrapped up as a tenor should be, though he 
 has the carriage of an athlete. The American winter 
 lends itself to artistic considerations in the matter of 
 cloaks, coats, leggings, scarfs, and " head-gear/' The 
 ladies of the company have sought the hot shelter of 
 the spacious saloon. Miss Terry pushes the swinging- 
 door. 
 
 "I shall be stifled in there," she says, retreating 
 before a blast of hot air. 
 
 ' e And starved to death out here," says Irving. 
 
 <e Well, I prefer the latter," she replies, taking her 
 place among the crowd on the outer platform. 
 
 " Our English friends would complain of heat at the 
 North Pole," says an American gentleman to another 
 as they push their way into the saloon. 
 
 It is an impressive sight, this great, rolling flood of 
 the North Eiver at midnight. The reflection of the 
 boat's lights upon the tide gives it an oily appear- 
 ance. 
 
 " Looks harmless enough, eh?" remarks an American 
 friend, answering his own question; "but it ain't. 
 The strongest swimmer might fail in breasting the 
 current at this state of the tide." 
 
 Bright electric lamps mark out the graceful lines of 
 the Brooklyn bridge. The twinkling signals of river 
 craft are seen afar off beneath the span of the suspended 
 roadway, along which gay-looking cars are flashing 
 their white and red and green lights. We pass and 
 meet gigantic ferry-boats, as large as the Terrace at 
 Henley-on-Thames would be if converted into a house- 
 boat, but a thousand times brighter, with tier upon 
 tier of illuminated windows. Irving, in his great 
 Astrachan overcoat, contemplates the scene with deep 
 interest. 
 
 " It is, indeed, very wonderful," he says. " We 
 could give an idea of the bridge at night on the 
 Lyceum stage; but these ferry-boats would bother 
 us, eh, Loveday ?" 
 
 " Not more than they do now with their heat and 
 
238 Impressions of America. 
 
 cold. Don't you think Miss Terry ought to go inside ? 
 It is very bitter here." 
 
 " No, Fll die first ! " said the lady, amidst a general 
 laugh. 
 
 ii. 
 
 PEESENTLY we run into dock, and are as firmly part of 
 it as if the two structures were one, and so we land and 
 struggle along in groups to the platform, where our 
 special train is to start for Chicago, a run of 1000 
 miles. Mr. Carpenter, the traffic-manager of this road, 
 is here to receive us. He and Mr. Abbey exchange 
 some not unpleasant badinage about the tribulations 
 of our previous journey from Boston to Baltimore, 
 and we get aboard. Mr. Blanchard, the President 
 of the Erie Railroad, has lent Mr. Irving his own 
 parlour-car for the journey, although it is necessary 
 that the company shall travel over the Pennsylvania 
 road. He has provisioned it also. It contains a private 
 room for Miss Terry, a special room for Irving, and 
 sections for myself and other friends. There is also a 
 smoking-room and little parlour, besides, of course, a 
 well-appointed kitchen. Mr. Blanchard's own chef is 
 in the car, with a couple of servants ; they are coloured 
 gentlemen, and very attentive to our wants. Miss 
 Terry and her maid go straight to bed ; so likewise do 
 the other occupants of the car, except Irving and my- 
 self. We think there may be much rest for mind and 
 body in a quiet chat before turning in for the night. 
 
 " Besides," says Irving, lighting a cigar, " we may 
 not be in the humour for such recreation after Monday 
 night. I am to get it hot in Chicago, they tell me/ 
 
 " I believe you will find the gate of the West wide 
 open to receive you, and the people of Chicago quick 
 to recognize all that is good in your work, and not a 
 whit behind the other cities in its appreciation of it/' 
 
 " They can have no prejudices, at all events," ho re- 
 plied ; u there has been no time for tradition to take 
 root there. They will not be afraid to say what they 
 
From Brooklyn to Chicago, 239 
 
 think, one way or the other. I would not feel anxious 
 at all if we had to stay there a month instead of a 
 fortnight." 
 
 " I should not wonder if reporters meet the train 
 and ask for interviews long before we arrive at 
 Chicago." 
 
 " Is it possible ? Well, let them come. I am told 
 that if we should be snowed up, there are much worse 
 persons to fear than our friends the reporters. Mr. 
 Abbey carries pistols, and the conductors and guards 
 are armed. During the Bernhardt tour more than one 
 plot to stop Abbey's special trains was discovered. 
 A band of masked men were disappointed at one place, 
 and a company of desperadoes from a western camp at 
 another. One of Abbey's agents was attacked in his 
 sleeping-car and badly wounded by men who sneaked 
 on board during a stoppage near a signal station ; but 
 he made a good fight, and the guard coming quickly to 
 his aid, the fellows got off. Travelling as we did, even 
 from Boston to Baltimore, pulling up at lonely and 
 unpeopled points, one can understand how easily a gang 
 of reckless robbers might capture a train, the facilities 
 for getting aboard and walking right through the cars 
 being largely in favour of success. It was known, 
 Mr. Abbey tells me, that Madame Bernhardt carried 
 her diamonds about with her ; and, acting on reliable 
 information, he found it desirable to have a smart chief 
 of police on the train, who had each end of her car 
 protected at night by an armed guard. No such 
 honour is, I suppose, provided for us ; and then we do 
 not go so far West, nor so near fche frontiers, as she and 
 her company went. I suppose Abbey is not chaffing 
 us, as Raymond and those other fellows tried to do in 
 London ? * 
 
 1 The coloured gentleman who asked me, during the " wild 
 railway journey " of a previous chapter, if I used " sticking 
 plaster," referred to the exploits of the James boys. Their mur- 
 derous adventures, I find, cover a period of over twenty years, 
 beginning, some people allege, with a sort of guerilla warfare 
 
240 Impressions of America. 
 
 " Oh, no ; Abbey's is a true bill. In the West a 
 detective well known to the thieves sat by Madame 
 Bernhardt's coachman whenever she went out, to or 
 from the theatre, or anywhere else ; and, apart from 
 the weapons he carried, his courage and skill made 
 him a terror to evil-doers. The Western bandit is 
 singularly discreet when he knows the reputation of 
 the police is pledged against him in a public enterprise. 
 
 during the war. A reward was offered a few years ago for the 
 capture of the leader, Jesse James, dead or alive, and he was 
 treacherously murdered by one of his confederates, who, being 
 tried and sentenced to death, was reprieved and rewarded in 
 accordance with the State proclamation. He and several other 
 members of the gang are still occasionally before the courts, I 
 believe, on various charges ; some appealing to the superior 
 power of the law, others working out their various sentences, 
 and some of them free. One of their most daring adventures is 
 a tragedy that is not likely to be forgotten in the criminal his- 
 tory of America. The story is to railway travel, so far as 
 the mere robbery itself is concerned, what the robbery of 
 " The Lyons Mail " is to the history of posting in France and 
 England a centnry ago. It is a truly dramatic story, in two 
 acts. The first scene discovers the postmaster and two or three 
 friends of the village of Glendale, at a flag station on the 
 Kansas City branch of the Chicago and Alton Eailway. It is 
 a pleasant October evening. Suddenly they are made prisoners 
 by a band of twelve masked and heavily-armed men. They 
 are marched to the little railway station, where the telegraph- 
 operator, an old woman, and the railway auditor, are added to 
 the nnmber. They comprise the entire population of the very 
 picturesque and romantic station. The telegraphic instrument 
 is destroyed, and the station-master compelled to lower his 
 signal lights and stop the mail then due. This ends the first 
 act. The second is the arrival of the train, the sudden and 
 expert seizure of engine-driver and guard (the latter battered 
 almost to death with the butt-end of a pistol), the overawing 
 of the passengers with revolvers, and the plunder of the mails. 
 Horses are then brought up to the track, the men mount with 
 their booty, and order the train to proceed. As the cars move 
 away, the robbers write a despatch that the telegraph operator 
 is directed to send off as soon as his instrument is in order : 
 " We are the boys who are hard to handle, and we will make it 
 hot for the boys who try to take us. Signed, Jesse and Frank 
 James, Jack Bishop, Irwin Cohens, Cool Carter," &c. The 
 plunder was 30,000 dollars in gold. 
 
From Brooklyn to Chicago. 241 
 
 in. 
 
 THE Chicago press justified my forecast of its enter- 
 prise.. The story of one of its representatives (he was 
 a baron, by the way, in his German Fatherland, 
 though content to be a reporter in Chicago) is best 
 told in his own way. He begins it with rather a 
 series of ' ' catching " titles, thus : 
 
 A CHAT WITH ME. IRVING. 
 
 A DAILY NEWS Reporter cliinbs into the English Tragedian's 
 Special Train, and Interviews Him. 
 
 Miss ELLEN TEEEY thinks her AMERICAN SISTEES ' Yery 
 nice/ but she has not yet seen DAISY MILLEE. 
 
 Then he goes on to narrate his own adventures, and 
 the results, and without much exaggeration, almost as 
 follows : 
 
 ' ' Mr. Henry Irving, the notable English actor, is 
 in Chicago now, and so is the Daily News man, who 
 accompanied him part of the way. The manner in 
 which these two the great representative of the 
 British stage and its latest and finest fruition, and the 
 modest representative of the Daily News met was 
 quite peculiar ; and it may be amusing to a discerning 
 public to, for once, learn that the interviewer's path 
 is not always strewn with roses when he sets out upon 
 his way past the thorny hedges that beset his road. 
 Who doesn't pity him in his various plights, and con- 
 cede that naught but the reputation of Chicago for 
 having the pluckiest and most irrepressible reporters 
 did not make him wilt long before accomplishing his 
 task, must bear a stone in his bosom, instead of the 
 usual muscular fibre called a human heart. 
 
 " It is well known to the newspaper fraternity that 
 Mr. Irving holds the interviewer in dread, and that 
 nearly all the so-called interviews with him published 
 in the American papers have been spurious. Duly 
 appreciating this fact, the Daily News man had not 
 
242 Impressions of America. 
 
 only been munificently fitted out with the requisite 
 lucre by the business department, but had further- 
 more been furnished with a letter of introduction, 
 one of the combination sort, addressed to both Mr. 
 Copleston, Manager Abbey's representative, and to 
 Mr. Falser, 2 couched in terms to make the flintiest 
 heart melt. Thus attired, then, the emissary boarded 
 at Fort Wayne the train which had carried safely thus 
 far Cassar and his luck from Jersey City. Entry to 
 the cars was effected with difficulty, the rules pro- 
 scribing any but the theatrical company for whom the 
 train was chartered from riding in it. Perseverance 
 and gall in equal doses prevailed, however, as they 
 usually do, and the drowsy Senegambian, who was 
 doing the Cerberus act, at the entrance of the car, 
 yielded to an amount of eloquence perhaps never be- 
 fore brought to bear upon his pachydermatous ana- 
 tomy. As soon as the train had started, a still-hunt 
 was begun for the two prospective victims, Miss Terry 
 and Mr. Irving. Alas ! they had both obeyed nature's 
 call, and were at that moment sweetly slumbering, 
 oblivious even of the Chicago interviewer. Everybody 
 else was likewise sleeping, even unto the dusky porters. 
 Passing up and down the train from end to end, 
 nothing but the cheerful and melodious British snore 
 greeted the attentive ear. Here, to the right, it was 
 the wheezing note of a snore combined with a cold ; 
 there, it was the thundering roll of a snoro basso pro- 
 fundo ; across the aisle the gentler breathing of some 
 youthful British blonde struck the expectant senses, 
 and again a confused jumble of snores, of all sexes and 
 ages, would fall ' with a dull thud 3 upon the tympanum 
 of the investigator. It forced itself upon the latter' s 
 conviction that it would be a difficult matter to attain 
 the object for which he had been deputed. It was 
 then after three o'clock. The train was due in Chicago 
 at eight, and it looked very unlikely that Mr. Irving 
 would overcome his aversion to interviewing and grant 
 2 Mr. Abbey's excellent business manager and treasurer. 
 
From Brooklyn to Chicago. 243 
 
 audience to a stranger at such, a time. This was a 
 hiatus which had not been thought of, and the Daily 
 News man sat down in an abandoned chair (on which 
 were peacefully reclining some articles of feminine 
 attire) , and reflected. Reflecting, he caught himself 
 in a nap, and woke out of it with a slight shudder. 
 He gave himself a poke in the rib and muttered, in 
 grave-like accents, Nil desperandum. 
 
 "The next move in the direction of the desired in- 
 terview was a vigorous rap administered to the saddle- 
 coloured individual who in that car discharged the 
 duties of collecting ' 50 cents all 'round/ When the 
 kicked one had gathered up his portly limbs, he was 
 sent on a search for Mr. Falser first, and that proving 
 unavailing, on a hunt for Mr. Copleston. The latter, 
 after considerable energy had been expended by the 
 coloured brother, awoke and gave vent to his indigna- 
 tion at having been thus rudely snatched from Mor- 
 pheus's arms. He did so in rather vigorous style and 
 language, which, under the circumstances, was hardly 
 to be wondered at. He declined to come forth from 
 under his blankets, and not even the cutting repartee 
 of the reporter could rouse him. He said he had been 
 but an hour and a half asleep, he and some friends in 
 another car having played poker till very late, and he, 
 the speaker, having lost quite heavily. He wouldn't, 
 couldn't, shouldn't get up and wake Mr. Irving, and 
 an interview, he concluded, on the train was an im- 
 possibility. 
 
 " ' Here is a fix,' was the mental commentary. 
 Poking his hand in here and there into berths, and 
 being startled now by the apparition of a female face, 
 then by a powerful snort of defiance from some male 
 actor, the investigator finally groped his way back into 
 the rear car, one of the palace pattern, placed at Mr. 
 Irving's disposal by Mr. Blanchard of the Erie Road. 
 And there he found, at last, Mr. Irving, who being 
 duly apprised of the mission of his unwelcome visitor, 
 and having a bit of pasteboard with the latter' s ad- 
 
 E 2 
 
244 Impressions of America. 
 
 dress thrust into his unwilling palm, murmured plain- 
 tively, but politely, that he would see him before 
 reaching Chicago. Later on Mr. Abbey's services were 
 enlisted in the same cause, and his promise to the same 
 effect obtained. Wearily the time dragged on, till but 
 another twenty-five miles lay between the train and its 
 destination. Just at this opportune moment the great 
 actor's friend, Mr. Joseph Hatton, stepped up and in- 
 vited the hungry, wild, and desperate minion of the 
 press to partake of a cup of coffee. Gladly this was 
 accepted, and being made aware of what was wanted, 
 he, with the sympathizing spirit of a brother journalist, 
 said he would try and have Mr. Irving appear. 
 Mr. Hatton, by the way, is accompanying Mr. 
 Irving for the purpose of gathering material for a 
 book, in which jointly the impressions of American 
 travel of himself and the eminent actor will be depo- 
 sited. While he went off to wake Mr. Irving, another 
 trip was taken to Mr. Abbey's room, in doing which, 
 both coming and returning, the reporter's modesty 
 underwent the severe ordeal of passing in review a 
 large array of British beauties, all in different stages 
 of evolution as to dress and all talking sauce in 
 choice Cockney English at him for his " shocking im- 
 propriety." When the somewhat cowed Daily Newsian 
 returned to his cup of coffee he found not only Mr. 
 Copleston, the surly bear of a few hours ago, trans- 
 formed into a most amiable gentleman, but also among 
 the other gentlemen, Mr. Irving himself. 
 
 ( ' After the tedious business of introduction had been 
 gone through with all around ; after it had been re- 
 marked that the trip had been a trying one to them all, 
 as not being used to these long journeys in their tight 
 little island, where a twelve-hours ride was considered 
 the utmost, after saying this, all felt broke up, 
 and, expressing anxiety as to the Siberian climate of 
 Chicago, Mr. Irving took out his cigar-case, invited 
 his vis-a-vis to light one of his choice weeds, and then 
 prepared himself for the torture to be inflicted. 
 
From Brooklyn to Chicago. 245 
 
 " ' How are you pleased with your reception in 
 America ? ' 
 
 " ' Beyond all expectation and desert. I have been 
 treated with a kindness, courteousness, and hospitality 
 that have been really touching to me. And this, you 
 know, has been done despite the fact that my trip to 
 America had not been endorsed by all. While on my 
 way across the Atlantic, for instance, a London daily 
 paper published a leading article on me, suggesting to 
 the Americans not to receive me cordially, and, not 
 satisfied with this, the article was cabled over before 
 our arrival. I thought this unfair and ungenerous. 
 1 like America, of course, though " like " is hardly the 
 proper term. I feel deeply grateful to the American 
 people for the very kind manner in which they have 
 treated me. But you must come to the theatre to- 
 night. I am sorry that Miss Terry will not play to- 
 night/ 
 
 ' ( ' Now, Mr. Irving, shirking your modesty for a 
 moment, and assuming as a settled fact that you are 
 one of the most eminent actors living, what made you 
 such? What cause or causes do you attribute your 
 good acting to ? ' 
 
 " < To acting/ 
 
 " ' What do you mean by that ? This answer is not 
 quite clear to me.' 
 
 " ( I merely want to say that by incessant acting, 
 and love and study of my art, I have attained whatever 
 position I hold in my profession. This is a leading 
 cause, as it is, I believe, in every other art/ 
 
 " ' What made you choose " Louis XL" in pre- 
 ference to " The Bells " as your first piece here, Mr. 
 Irving ? ' 
 
 " * Because it takes the least amount of stage pre- 
 paration, that's all. That reminds me to say that the 
 reports you have heard about my gorgeous scenery, 
 &c., you will find, I think, exaggerated. Our stage 
 decorations are quite simple, and their beauty consists 
 merely in their nice adjustment, and the scrupulous 
 
246 Impressions of America. 
 
 calculation of the effect produced by them on the 
 audience/ 
 
 " Meanwhile Miss Terry's maid had been very busy 
 preparing tea and buttered toast for her mistress, 
 taking dainty little things for wear out of a big 
 lock- basket. Being repeatedly asked if Miss Terry 
 could not be seen a moment, the train meanwhile 
 arrived in Chicago, and most of the other actors and 
 actresses having got off, she made evasive answers. 
 Suddenly, however, the door opened, and a very pretty 
 lady looked briskly around. This, then, was Miss 
 Ellen Terry ! A beautiful woman, indeed ! Lustrous 
 eyes of rare azure ; a profuseness of wavy blonde hair, 
 long and of a luminous shade and silky texture ; the 
 form lithe, yet full, every motion of a natural supple 
 grace. She was shaking hands with the Daily News 
 man, even while Mr. Copleston introduced him, and 
 then scurried back into the dark depths of her room, 
 where she continued wailing, ' I've lost my luck ! I've 
 lost my luck, my beautiful horse- shoe brooch, which 
 I wouldn't have missed for the world ! ' And maid 
 and mistress went down on their knees, peering into 
 every nook and cranny. While still thus employed : 
 ' You see, Miss Terry, the Chicago reporter is the first 
 introduced to give you a hearty greeting to this city, 
 and to hope you'll like your stay here as well as 
 I am sure Chicago will like to hold you within her 
 walls.' 
 
 "' Thanks! thanks!' said Miss Terry, and then 
 continued her search for that obstreperous brooch. 
 " ' And what do you think of America ? ' 
 " Miss Terry held up a round, well-shaped arm ap- 
 pealingly, and merely said, f No, no. You mustn't 
 try to interview me. I won't stumble into that pit- 
 fall.' 
 
 " ( How do you like the American women, then ?' 
 ( ' ' Very nice and pretty they are, those I've seen, 
 at least. I think we must say, in this regard, what 
 Lord Coleridge did : " They can't be all so nice and 
 
 
From Brooklyn to Chicago. 247 
 
 pretty; I suppose I've only seen the nicest ones." 
 And one thing I'll tell you which I have not seen ; 
 I've never set eyes on any Daisy Millers.' 
 
 " ' Of course not/ rejoined the reporter. ' Who 
 ever heard of or saw a Daisy Miller outside of a book ? 
 That's a character you'll only find in James's novel, 
 not in America, Miss Terry.' 
 
 "And thus, still hunting for that unfortunate 
 brooch, which she plaintively called her ' lost luck,' 
 and so apparently a kind of voodoo or talisman, the 
 reporter left her, momentarily feeling a ray out of the 
 sun of her glorious eyes lighting up his departure. 
 It was a little after eight o'clock then, and, while she 
 soon after went by carriage to the Leland Hotel, Mr. 
 Irving put up at the Grand Pacific, and was, two 
 hours later, busily arranging things at Haverly's 
 Theatre." 
 
248 Impressions of America. 
 
 XVI. 
 THE PRAIRIE CITY. 
 
 First Impressions of Chicago A Bitter Winter Great Storms 
 Thirty Degrees below Zero On the Shores of Lake 
 Michigan Street Architecture Pullman City Western 
 Journalism Chicago Criticism Notable Entertainments 
 At the Press Club The Club Life of America What 
 America has done Unfair Comparisons between the 
 Great New World and the Older Civilizations of Europe 
 Mistaking Notoriety for Fame A Speech of Thanks- 
 Facts, Figures, and Tests of Popularity, past and to come. 
 
 THEOUGH piles of lumber, into back streets filled with, 
 liquor bars, " side shows/' and decorated with, flaming 
 posters, into fine, stately thoroughfares, crowded with 
 people, past imposing buildings marked with architec- 
 tural dignity, to the Grand Pacific Hotel. 
 
 " It is as if Manchester had given Greenwich Fair a 
 blow in the face," said Irving, " that is my first 
 impression of Chicago. ' The Living Skeleton/ ' The 
 Tattooed Man/ ' The Heaviest Woman in the World/ 
 'The Museum of Wonders/ with the painted show- 
 pictures of our youth ; public-houses, old-clothes shops, 
 picturesque squalor. And then great warehouses, 
 handsome shops, and magnificent civic buildings, 
 what a change ! There is something of the ' go ' of 
 Liverpool and Manchester about it. If I was ever 
 afraid of Chicago, I am afraid no longer. A people 
 that have rebuilt this city within a comparatively few 
 years must be great, broad-minded, and ready in 
 
The Prairie City. 249 
 
 appreciating what is good. We have something to 
 show them in the way of dramatic art, they will 
 ' catch on/ as they say on this side of the Atlantic, I 
 am sure of it." 
 
 The city was more or less snow-bound. Little or 
 no effort had been made to remove the white downfall, 
 either from road or pavement. The sun was shining. 
 The air was, nevertheless, very cold. Within a few 
 days of our arrival the thermometer had fallen to twenty 
 and thirty degrees below zero. We had selected for 
 our visit to America what was destined to be the 
 bitterest winter that had been known in the United 
 States for over twenty years. There were storms on 
 sea and land ; storms of rain, and snow, and wind, 
 followed by frosts that closed the great rivers, and 
 made even Lake Michigan solid for ice-boats a dozen 
 or twenty miles out. The South Jersey coast was 
 strewn with wreckage. Railway tracks were swept 
 away. At Cape May the principal pier was destroyed. 
 The sea demolished the piles of Coney Island's iron 
 piers. At Long Branch cottages were undermined by 
 the water, and their contents carried out to sea. The 
 well-known dancing platform and piazza of the Grand 
 Union Hotel, on Rockaway Beach, were washed away. 
 Terrific winds blew over Boston and New England. A 
 little fleet of schooners were driven ashore at Portland. 
 Vessels broke from their moorings in the adjacent 
 harbours. Atlantic City had boarding-houses, stores, 
 and dwellings carried away by high tides. 
 
 The mails were delayed for hours, and in some 
 cases for days, on the principal railroads. Where the 
 obstacles were not rain and flood, they were wind and 
 snow. Lockport, New York, reported that the snow 
 on that day was four feet on the level, and still falling. 
 Bradford, telegraphing for Pennsylvania generally, 
 announced that fourteen inches of snow had fallen 
 within a few hours, the weight of it crushing in many 
 roofs and awnings. " The narrow-gauge railways," 
 ran the despatch, " five in number, have been closed 
 
250 Impressions of A merica. 
 
 all day ; the trains are stalled a few miles from the 
 city." Even at Louisville, in Kentucky, navigation 
 was suspended, and floating ice-blocks were battering 
 in the sides of steamers lying at the wharves of 
 Baltimore. On the Rappahannock river, in Virginia, 
 a ship laden with corn was cut down and sunk by 
 floating ice. These and kindred incidents occurred on 
 or about the day of our arrival in Chicago. The 
 record of the few previous days, judged from the 
 official reports of Washington, and the ordinary 
 chronicles of the times, was a very remarkable one, 
 even for the coldest Stages of America. In some 
 places the weather had been the coldest known for 
 more than fifty years. Canada had had the most 
 extreme experiences in this respect. At Winnipeg, 
 Manitoba, the thermometer had fallen as low as forty- 
 five degrees below zero. 
 
 On the day we were travelling to the prairie city, 
 while the thermometer was rising in that section of 
 the country, it was falling in the eastern and southern 
 States, registering thirty degrees below zero at 
 Whitehall, New York. The Straits of Mackinaw, 
 connecting Lake Michigan and Lake Huron, were 
 navigable only on foot or runners. We arrived in 
 Chicago on Monday, Jan. 7. On the 6th the thermo- 
 meter registered twenty-two degrees below zero. 
 Monday's newspapers congratulated their readers that 
 " the wave had passed over. 1 " Incidents of its severity 
 were curious and numerous. Hundreds of hogs had 
 been frozen to death on freight trains. The Terre 
 Haute express from Chicago was snowed up for thirty- 
 one hours. At fires which had broken out, water from 
 the engines froze as it fell, and covered the buildings 
 with strange, fantastic shapes. 
 
 I had arranged to visit Gunnison (Colorado), and 
 other mining cities, within a reasonable distance from 
 Chicago and St. Louis, but was persuaded to postpone 
 my trip by private and public reports of the storm in 
 those regions. One day's newspaper (the Daily -News- 
 
The Prairie City. 2 5 1 
 
 Democrat, of Gunnison) contained startling evidence 
 of the difficulties I should have had to encounter. 
 Within a few days twenty-seven men had been killed 
 by snow-slides in the mountains between Ouray and 
 Telluride. A local mail-carrier was among the victims. 
 All the available snow-ploughs and engines of the 
 various districts were at work on the tracks. Engines 
 were helplessly stuck in the snow on the Kio Grande. 
 " The miner," remarked the Daily News editor, " who 
 goes into the mountains at this season takes his life in 
 his hands." I remained in Chicago with Irving, and 
 am spared to chronicle these things. The weather was 
 sufficiently cold for both of us in Chicago. It varied, 
 too, with a persistency of variation that is trying to the 
 strongest constitution. One hour the thermometer 
 would be fairly above zero, the next it would be far 
 below it. Men went about the frozen streets in fur 
 coats and caps, carefully protecting their ears and 
 hands. Along the shores of Lake Michigan were 
 barricades of ice ; they looked like solid palisades of 
 marble. Here and there, where tiny icebergs had 
 been formed, the polar bear would not have looked out 
 of place. It was strange to see the ice-boats, with 
 their bending sails, literally flying along, while away 
 out lay ships at anchor. Mr. Lyon took Miss Terry, 
 Irving, and myself sleighing along the lake shore and 
 upon the prairie beyond. My friends were delighted 
 with the novel excursion, astonished at the fine boule- 
 vards through which we passed, amazed at the possi- 
 bilities of Chicago, as they realized what had been done 
 and what space had been laid out for the future. A 
 forty-mile drive through great, wide boulevards de- 
 signed to encompass the city, is the biggest of the 
 city's schemes, and it is in vigorous course of for- 
 mation. 
 
 " One is forced to admire the pluck of Chicago," 
 said Irving, after our first drive. " Twice burnt down, 
 twice built up, and laid out anew, on a plan that is 
 magnificent. Some of the houses along Prairie and 
 
252 Impressions of America. 
 
 Michigan Avenues are palaces. 1 The art revival in 
 street architecture and house decoration is as actively 
 rife here as in London. And what a superb stone they 
 have for building purposes in their yellow cream- 
 coloured marble ! It is marvellous to see how they 
 have taken hold of the new ideas. The Calumet and 
 the Chicago club-houses, nothing could be more chaste 
 than their decorations."" 
 
 One day we went to Pullman City, an industrial 
 town, akin to Saltaire, near Bradford, in its scope and 
 enterprise. We were invited and accompanied by Mr. 
 and Mrs. Pullman, Miss Terry, Mr. and Mrs. Dexter, 
 Mr. and Mrs. James Runnion, and several other ladies 
 and gentlemen. Going out in Mr. Pullman's private 
 car, we lunched with him at the pretty hotel of the 
 novel city, and afterwards inspected the workshops 
 and principal buildings. 
 
 " The story of the conception and creation of this 
 Pullman City," said Irving, "interested me very much, 
 though I confess the method of it all strikes me as 
 somewhat like living by machinery : the private houses 
 being massed, as it were, en bloc ; the shops collected 
 together like arcades ; the whole place laid out with 
 geometrical system; and yet one feels that there 
 are fine principles underlying it ; that the scheme is 
 founded upon wise plans ; and that, from a moral and 
 sanitary stand-point, the city is an ideal combination of 
 work and rest, of capital and labour. Pullman's idea 
 was a lofty one, and the result is very remarkable : a 
 centre of industry that should give to labour its best 
 chance, with capital taking its place on a platform 
 
 1 " Miss Ellen Terry is said to have a broad knowledge and 
 high appreciation of decorative art. During the past two or 
 three days she has been doing Michigan and Prairie Avenues in 
 this city with a critical eye. ' I noticed a good many houses,' 
 she says, ' that I did not like at all, but many others that are 
 truly beautiful. The red brick ones and the yellow marble 
 fronts are mostly exquisite in design and colour. Here and there 
 Michigan Avenue reminds me of Brighton in England.' " Daily 
 News. 
 
The Prairie City. 253 
 
 as human as labour. That is the notion, as Pull- 
 man explained it to me. What a square, level head 
 it is ! Just the determined kind of man to be the 
 author of a new city on new lines. He told me that 
 Charles Readers novel, ' Put Yourself in his Place/ had 
 influenced him greatly in his ambition to found this 
 place ; that it has affected all his relations towards his 
 people. B/eade would be glad to know that, I am sure. 
 Politically, Pullman City is a paradox. A despotism, it 
 is nevertheless very democratic. It owes its successful 
 administration to a benevolent autocracy. The theatre, 
 I am told, is more prosperous than the church proper, 
 though religion is represented by several earnest com- 
 munities. The idea of giving the people a chance to 
 buy land and build cottage homes for themselves, at a 
 reasonable distance beyond Pullman, appears to be a 
 
 food one. Pullman may well be proud of his work. 
 t is worthy of Chicago and the West." 
 
 n. 
 
 IN spite of " wind and weather " the people of Chicago 
 crowded Haverly's Theatre, where Irving and Miss 
 Terry appeared, night after night, for two weeks ; and 
 the critics of the great papers of the West, the Times, 
 Tribuney Inter-Ocean, and Daily News, were equal to 
 the occasion. They showed a knowledge of their work, 
 and an appreciation of dramatic art, as illustrated by 
 Irving, quite in keeping with the spirit and ambition of 
 their new and wonderful city. A news-collector having 
 in view the prejudices of New York and London, as to 
 the literary and journalistic cultivation of Chicago, 
 selected an enthusiastic line or two from the Chicago 
 notices of Irving and Miss Terry, with a view to cast 
 ridicule upon western criticism. This kind of thing 
 is common to news-collectors on both sides of the 
 Atlantic. A reporter desires to please his editor, and 
 to cater for his public. In London, believing that 
 New York will be stirred with the report of a hostile 
 
254 Impressions of America. 
 
 demonstration against an American artist, he makes 
 the most of the working- of a rival American clique 
 there against Lotta. New York looks down loftily 
 upon the art culture of Chicago, and London chiefly 
 knows Chicago through its great fire, borne with so 
 much fortitude, and for its " corners in pork/' The 
 local caterer for the news columns of New York and 
 London panders to these ideas. The best-educated 
 writer, the neatest essayist, might be made to appear 
 foolish if we were to cut unconnected sentences out 
 of his work, and print them alone. 
 
 In the journalistic literature of modern criticism there 
 is nothing better than some of the essays on Irving 
 and his art that appeared in the papers of Chicago 
 and the West. In this connection it is worth while 
 pointing out that the absence of an international copy- 
 right between England and America forces native 
 writers, who otherwise would be writing books, into 
 the newspaper press. So long as publishers can steal 
 or buy ' ' for a mere song " the works of popular English 
 authors, they will not give a remunerative wage to the 
 comparatively unknown writers of their own country. 
 Therefore, busy thinkers, men and women with literary 
 inspirations, devote themselves to journalism. It would 
 be surprising if, under these circumstances, the Western 
 press should not here and there entertain and instruct 
 its readers with literary and critical work as much 
 entitled to respect, and as worthy to live, as the more 
 pretentious and more happily and fortunately placed 
 literature of London, Boston, and New York. The 
 American authors best known to-day, and most praised 
 in both hemispheres, have written for the newspapers, 
 and some of them had their training on the press : 
 Bret Harte, Mark Twain, Howells, Aldrich, John Hay, 
 James, Ha^erton, Winter, Bryant, Artemus Ward (I 
 leave the reader to complete the list, for I mention 
 these names en passant and at random) ; and how many 
 others are coming on through the columns of the 
 newspapers to take up the running, who shall say ? 
 
The Prairie City. 255 
 
 The Chicago press often sacrifices dignity and good 
 taste in the headings with which it seeks to surprise 
 and excite its readers. But this is a feature of Western 
 journalism that will go out with the disappearance of 
 the lower civilization to which, in covering the entire 
 ground of its circulation, it unhesitatingly appeals. 
 The London press is not free from the charge of 
 pandering to depraved tastes in its reports of sen- 
 sational murders and divorce cases, though the great 
 body of its writers and contributors no doubt sit down 
 to their work with a higher sense of their responsi- 
 bility to the public than is felt by their American 
 contemporaries. 
 
 " Do you think that is so ? " Irving asked, when I 
 was propounding this view to an American colleague. 
 
 " Yes," said the journalist addressed; "but I think 
 our newspapers are far more interesting than yours. 
 At the same time you beat us in essay writing, for that 
 is what your editorials are, they are essays." 
 
 " That is true/' said Irving, " and very fine some of 
 them are." 
 
 But to return to Chicago criticism, I repeat that 
 among the best and most appreciative and most 
 scholarly of the criticisms upon Irving and his art, 
 in England and America, are the writings of the 
 Chicago journalists, McPhelin, of the Tribune, Barren, 
 of the Inter-Ocean, McConnell, of the Times, and 
 Pierce, of the Daily News. The two first-mentioned 
 are quite young men, not either of them more than 
 twenty-five. I am tempted to quote, in justification 
 of this opinion, and as an example of Chicago work, 
 the following extracts from one of several equally well- 
 written criticisms in the Tribune : 
 
 There is nothing phenomenal or meteoric about this new 
 actor. Henry Irving is not what Diderot would have us be- 
 lieve a great actor should be, namely, a man without sensibi- 
 lity. Diderot said that sensibility was organic weakness ; 
 that it crippled the intelligence, rendering acting alternately 
 warm and cold ; and that the great actor should have penetra- 
 
256 Impressions of America. 
 
 tion, without any sensibility whatever. But Talma called 
 sensibility the faculty of exaltation which shakes an actor' 
 very soul, and which enables him to enter into the most tragic 
 situations and the most terrible of passions as if they were his 
 own. In the discussion of these conflicting theories Henry 
 Irving has always taken Talma's view. He comes nearer 
 realizing Diderot's ideal of greatness than any other actor of 
 whom we have record. 
 
 His imagination is picturesque almost to the verge of sub- 
 limity. His fancy is lively and apparently inexhaustible. 
 When he unrolls before us the varied-coloured robe of life, we 
 look in vain to find one colour missing. It is a fancy that is 
 not only vivid, but that is most poetic. How touching is that 
 return of Shylock to his lonely home, walking wearily over 
 the deserted bridge, the bridge that echoed only a moment 
 before to the shouts and laughter of the merry maskers ! The 
 old man walks to the house from which his daughter has fled, 
 knocks twice at the door, and looks up patiently and expec- 
 tantly towards the casement. Then the curtain falls. The 
 people who do not applaud such a tender touch as this should 
 stop going to the theatre. 
 
 In saying that Irving is realistic, that word is not used in its 
 grosser sense. Eealism should be the union of the ideal and 
 the true. There may be truth in Zola's realism, but there is 
 no ideality; for ideality rejects the trivial, the vulgar, the 
 earthly, and grasps the essence. There may be ideality in 
 Mrs. Burnett's novels, but sentiment is substituted for truth. 
 The realism of Howells, for instance, is a union of the ideal 
 and the true. Irving's ideals are in harmony with the realistic 
 tendency of literary thought, because they are drawn from 
 humanity, and not from Olympus. His are human, not heroic, 
 ideals. His Louis XI. is as true to nature as any impersona- 
 tion can be ; and yet it is ideal, inasmuch as the essence of the 
 character is incorporated in action, and the baseness, the 
 cruelty, the bigotry of the king are not repugnant. Here is 
 the union of the ideal and the true. If a man like Zola were 
 playing Louis XI. he would shock and disgust us by a portrayal 
 not essential, but of superficial grossness. 
 
 In attempting to estimate Irving's genius one cannot cata- 
 logue qualities, but must indicate in a general way the nature 
 of that genius as it is judged from its manifestations. Irving 
 cannot be classified, for he is the leader of a new school of 
 acting, as Tennyson is the leader of a new school of poetry. 
 They who in the future will write of the great Victorian Era 
 will find, perhaps, a resemblance between the actor and the 
 poet, not only because both have opened up new fields of art, 
 but because the chief characteristic of each is originality in 
 
The Prairie City. 257 
 
 form. If Tennyson is the poet who should be read by poets, 
 Irving is the actor who should be studied by actors. The idea 
 intended to be conveyed is, that both Tennyson and Irving 
 excel in perfection of detail ; in other words, of technique, or 
 form. The great poet who wishes to be heard in the future 
 must give us the polish and the intensity of Tennyson; the 
 actor who would be great must give us the polish and the 
 intensity of Irving. 
 
 Any line in Irving's acting will illustrate his intensity, by 
 which is meant the grasping of a fuller meaning than appears 
 on the surface. When Shylock is nattering Portia in the 
 trial scene, exclaiming, "A Daniel come to judgment," &c., 
 it is startling the manner in which he leans forward suddenly 
 and whispers with venomous unction and cunning the insidious 
 compliment, " How much more elder art thou than thy looks ! " 
 The words are very simple, but their effects depend on the 
 intensity of meaning with which they are uttered. 
 
 Praise has already been accorded Irving's Shylock, because 
 it is- a type of the medieval Jew, interpreted, not according to 
 the traditions of a bigoted age, but in the light of the liberality 
 of the nineteenth century. This creation is, perhaps, the best 
 proof of the assertion that Henry Irving has embodied in his 
 art the spirit of his age, and therein lies his greatness. 
 
 Several lessons American managers will draw from the 
 success of the Irving engagement. One is that Shakespearian 
 plays must not be mutilated to give prominence to one actor. 
 Artistic harmony must not be sacrificed to personal ambition. 
 Another lesson is that an actor must not undertake all alone to 
 act a play ; he must have a company of actors, not a company 
 of incompetent amateurs. A third is that Shakespearian plays 
 are the jewels of dramatic literature, and their setting should 
 surely be as rich as that given to the extravagant productions 
 that are doing so much to vitiate popular taste. 
 
 In conclusion, it may be remarked that it is gratifying that 
 Henry Irving in his American tour has been regarded, not 
 from a fashionable or a national, but from a purely artistic 
 stand-point. In art the Spartan and the Athenian are brothers ; 
 the same love of beauty lives in Kome and in Geneva, in 
 London and in New York. In the sunshine of art the national 
 merges into the universal, and the mists of prejudice die away 
 upon the horizon of the world. 
 
 III. 
 
 ALL the forecasts that warned Irving to expect in 
 Chicago a coarse fibre of civilization and an absence 
 of artistic appreciation were reversed in the Prairie 
 
 8 
 
258 Impressions of America. 
 
 city. Night after night, great, generous, enthusiastic 
 audiences crowded Haverly's Theatre. Quick of per- 
 ception, frank in their recognition of the best features 
 of Irving' s work, they were cordial in their applause, 
 and hearty in their greetings of the novelty of it. The 
 critics interpreted the sentiments of the audiences, and 
 put their feelings into eloquent sentences. They 
 showed knowledge and sincerity of intention and pur- 
 pose, and some of them criticized severely the carping 
 spirit in which one or two Eastern contemporaries 
 had dealt with the London actors. The hospitality of 
 Chicago is proverbial. It was made manifest in many 
 ways, in offers of carriages for sleigh- riding, of ice- 
 boats, of railway cars. Irving and Miss Terry had to 
 decline more invitations than they accepted. Members 
 of the company were also entertained at breakfasts 
 and suppers. After the first night, with its ac- 
 ceptation of Irving as a reformer of the stage, and 
 as the author of what to Chicago was a new pleasure, 
 the city literally opened all its doors to him. Among 
 the receptions was a breakfast given by Mr. John 
 B. Carson/ at which the Mayor spoke of the 
 
 * The company included his Worship the Mayor of Chicago 
 (the Hon. Carter Harrison), G. M. Pullman (of Pullman City), 
 J. Medill (editor of the Tribune), Murray Nelson, Mr. Gage 
 (banker), Major-General Schofield, Marshal Field, Mr. Dexter, 
 George Dunlap, 0. R. Cummings, General A. Stager, and J. 
 B. Lyon. The menu was remarkable for its luxurious elegance, 
 and the speaking, though informal, and in no sense pre-arranged, 
 was notable for being chiefly confined to the arts and their 
 influences on civilization. Mr. John B. Carson proposed 
 " Health and continued success to Henry Irving," and wel- 
 comed him to the West in terms of hearty friendship. " And 
 I only hope," he said, "you will one day come to Quincy, 
 which is my head-quarters ; we are not a very great population, 
 but we have a fine theatre, and we enjoy a good play." Quincy 
 has a population of 25,000, is beautifully situated on a limestone 
 bluff, 125 feet above the Mississippi River. Mr. Carson and 
 his friends at Quincy sent Mr. Abbey a guarantee of $4000, for 
 one night's visit of the Irving Company. It will be interesting 
 to add, in this place, that many " theatre parties " came to 
 
The Prairie City. 259 
 
 pleasure Chicago experienced in Irving's visit, and 
 upon which occasion Mr. Joseph Medill, the editor 
 of the Tribune, who had seen Irving in London, as 
 well as in Chicago, proclaimed him the one Shake- 
 spearian actor who interprets and exhibits the concep- 
 tions of the poet with a proper naturalness, and in 
 such a manner as to make people regret that Shake- 
 speare could not revisit the world to see what had at 
 last been done for his plays. The health of Miss 
 Terry was proposed and drunk with all the honours ; 
 as it was, also, at a very dainty reception given one 
 night after the play to Miss Terry herself, at the 
 Calumet Club, by Mr. aad Mrs. John B. Jeffery, 3 and, 
 on a later occasion, at the Leland Hotel, at a supper 
 given by Mr. Emery A. Storrs 4 to Mr. Irving. Pro- 
 
 Chicago, from distant cities, to see Irving. Some of them 
 travelled all day, and several of their newspapers contained re- 
 ports and criticisms of the performances. 
 
 3 The menu cards on this occasion were gems in the way of 
 printing and binding. They were exquisitely encased in alli- 
 gator-leather and silver. With each of them was a guest-card, 
 on which was written a poetic welcome, couched in bright, 
 humorous, and complimentary terms, the work of the hostess. 
 Many ladies and gentlemen of position were present, and the 
 affair was one of the pleasantest in the history of the Calumet 
 Club. 
 
 4 At eleven o'clock last evening Mr. Emery A. Storrs gave a 
 supper in honour of Mr. Henry Irving, at the Leland Hotel, 
 and pleasantly entertained thirty-five well-known gentlemen. 
 The guests assembled about ten o'clock, in room No. 20, and 
 shortly afterwards adjourned to Mr. Storrs' suite of parlours on 
 the Michigan Avenue front of the hotel. Mr. Irving and Mr. 
 Hatton arrived soon after eleven o'clock, and, after a few minutes' 
 social chat, the party proceeded to the small dining-hall. The 
 arrangements were elaborate and perfect, and the decorations 
 were very handsome. Lines of flags of all nations extended 
 from the four corners of the room, crossing one another just 
 under the dome in the centre. Hanging by an invisible wire 
 from the electric light in the dome was a double-faced floral 
 circle, edged with smilax, through the centre of which was a 
 floral bar. On one side of this was the name " Irving," and on 
 the other side " Terry," in red carnations upon a white ground. 
 The walls were hung with the English and American colours, 
 and directly behind the guest's seat was a bust of Shakespeare, 
 
 s 2 
 
260 Impressions of America. 
 
 fessor Swing was among the speakers on this occasion, 
 and during the evening pleasant allusion was made to 
 
 over which was looped the English flag, caught up by a shield, 
 bearing the arms of Great Britain and Ireland. Above this 
 was a banner bearing the following inscription : " ' One touch 
 of nature makes the whole world kin ' Irving and Booth." 
 At the opposite end of the room, just above the door, was a 
 similar banner, inscribed as follows : " ' To hold, as 'twere, the 
 mirror up to nature ' Ellen Terr}' and Mary Anderson." Im- 
 mediately opposite the entrance to the room was the inscription, 
 " Greeting and Welcome," and over the entrance was inscribed, 
 " Not that we think us worthy such a guest, but that your 
 worth will dignify our feast." To the left of this was a banner, 
 bearing the following: " Suit the action to the word, the word 
 to the action, with the special observation that you overstep 
 not the modesty of Nature." And to the right was a banner, 
 inscribed as follows : " All the world's a stage, and all the men 
 and women merely players; they have their exits and their 
 entrances." The table was arranged in the shape of a " T," 
 with the host, the guest of the evening, and a few of the 
 more favoured sitting at the cross of the " T." Immediatel} r 
 in front of the seats of Mr. Irving and Mr. Storrs was an 
 immense basket of flowers, which was sent later in the 
 evening to Miss Terry, with Mr. Storrs' compliments, and to 
 the right and left of this was a floral bell, suggesting the 
 actor's favourite play, " The Bells." . In the body of the " T " 
 was a huge epergne of fruit and flowers, and trails of smilax 
 were laid the length of the cloth. In front of each one of the 
 thirty-five plates was a fragrant boutonniere, and a satin- 
 covered card bearing the name of the guest diagonally across 
 a marine scene. Delicate-tinted glasses to the right of each 
 plate suggested liquid enjoyment to follow. The following is 
 a list of the guests as they sat at table : Emery A. Storrs, 
 Henry Irving, Joseph Hatton, General Schofield, Professor 
 Swing, Perry H. Smith, Professor Eraser, William Balcom, 
 F. B. Wilkie, E. H. Winston, J. D. Harvey, M. E. Stone, 
 Alfred Cowles, D. B. Shipman, W. C. D. Grannis, W. P. 
 Nixon, W. S. Walker, Dr. Jackson, Mr. Phinney, Leonard 
 Hodges, Canon Knowles, A. F. Seeberger, Louis Wahl, S. D. 
 Kimbark, C. P. Kimball, J. L. High, Mr. Clement, Washington 
 Hesing, J. M. Dandy, Mr. Lewis, Mr. Griswola, Mr. Harper, 
 Mr. Devvey, Mr. Thayer, Mr. Hord, and Mr. Bacon. After 
 supper Mr. Storrs, in a witty prelude, explaining that there 
 were to be no speeches, proposed the health of Mr. Irving. 
 The famous actor having responded, Joseph Hatton, who, by 
 his works and in his own person, is well known in Chicago, was 
 
The Prairie City. 261 
 
 the visit of Lord Chief Justice Coleridge, and to 
 English writers who had not confined their attention 
 solely to the shortcomings of Chicago. Irving, in re- 
 sponding to the toast of his health, described his 
 sensations on entering Chicago ; " I came warned 
 against you; but knowing your history. When I 
 saw your great city, and felt how much you had done, 
 and how much that was broad and generous and 
 courageous belonged to such enterprise and ambition, 
 my instinct told me that you would be with me in my 
 work ; that you would, at least, respect it ; and that if 
 you liked it, no jealousies, no prejudices, would stand 
 in the way of your saying so." 
 
 The Press Club 5 " received " Irving and Miss Terry 
 and several members of the Lyceum company. " No- 
 thing could have been conceived or carried out in a 
 more frank and friendly spirit than the Press Club 
 reception," said Irving, on returning to his hotel; 
 " no pretence, no affectation, a hearty crowd. They 
 treated us as if we had known each other all our lives, 
 and I begin to feel as if they were old friends. It is 
 the absence of caste in America, I conclude, that gives 
 a meeting of this kind its real cordiality. Nobody is 
 afraid of anybody else; there is an absence of self- 
 restraint, and, at the same time, of self-consciousness. 
 I liked them, too, for not apologizing for their very 
 unpretentious rooms ; and I think they are right in 
 
 toasted. Miss Terry was not forgotten during the unstudied 
 and informal eloquence of the evening. A magnificent basket 
 of flowers was sent to her, with the respectful compliments of 
 the host and his friends. Tribune and other newspaper reports. 
 5 The reception to Henry Irving and Miss Ellen Terry by 
 the Chicago Press Club last evening was a brilliant social and 
 professional event. It was a graceful recognition of Great 
 Britain's greatest histrionic stars. Many professional people, 
 including Mdlle. Rhea, Mrs. Jessie Bartlett-Davis, and others of 
 note on the dramatic and operatic stage, were present, and 
 were presented to the distinguished guests of the evening, 
 together with a large number of litterateurs, journalists, and 
 members of the bar. Morning News. 
 
262 Impressions of America. 
 
 adhering to the principles on which the club is founded, 
 that it shall be purely a press club. Do you remember 
 the evening at the journalists' club in Philadelphia ? 
 But that was a man's night only. Very delightful too, 
 eh ? I thought so. Indeed, the club life of America, 
 from the humblest to the highest, is characterized by 
 a cordiality and freedom that is glorious ; I think so. 
 No nonsense, no unnecessary formality ; they give you 
 the best, and make you at home at once. So nice to 
 be introduced straightway, and be on terms with all 
 the fellows ! I find, by one of the newspapers, that I 
 am keeping a scrap-book; they have seen Houson's 
 handiwork, I imagine. I was just thinking that if 
 one indulged in that sort of thing, what a collection 
 of club cards and menus one would have ! There is 
 not a city we have visited where we have not been 
 made free of all the clubs, from Boston to Chicago. 
 The Boston clubs are very fine, English-like in many 
 respects. But there is nothing, I suppose, more 
 gorgeous than the Union League at New York. I'll 
 tell you what strikes me most about America the 
 immensity of the work it has done in regard to the 
 material welfare of its people ; in building up a new 
 civilization; providing for the comforts of the thou- 
 sands who crowd into its ports from the Old World ; 
 taking care of them and governing them, giving them 
 a share of their wealth, and welding the incongruous 
 mass into one great people. I don't wonder that 
 young men who have only their honest hands and 
 hopes as legacies from parents come here to make 
 homes and names, to found families, and lay up for 
 their old age. It is a wonderful country ; the thought 
 of it almost inspires me with eloquence, and I think 
 on many a night it has given me a new energy and a 
 new love for my own work. I notice, by the papers, 
 that some English visitor has been writing in one of 
 the English periodicals what is called f a slashing 
 criticism' upon American habits and customs, and 
 making unfair comparisons between the life-objects of 
 
The Prairie City. 263 
 
 the men and women of this great New World and the 
 older civilizations of Europe. This sort of criticism 
 can only be mere surface-work ; it does not consider 
 and weigh results; it does not count how great a 
 thing has been done in a short time ; it does not see 
 how marvellously successful this people has been in 
 making a law unto itself, a civilization unto itself, and 
 how it has not yet had time to rest and tack on to its 
 great, sweeping garments the fringes and ribbons and 
 jewels that belong to an age of rest, and luxury, and 
 art. They are but small critics, and they are not re- 
 spectfully conscious of the possibilities of the close 
 union of England and America, who discuss America 
 in a petty way, and do not give her the credit she 
 deserves for all she has done in the cause of freedom 
 and of humanity." 
 
 He paced the room as he talked, and I applauded 
 his peroration. 
 
 " And you say you cannot ' orate/ to use a local 
 phrase, except about acting." 
 
 " It is an easy thing to make a speech in one's own 
 room, but a different thing standing up before an 
 audience, eh ? " 
 
 <( Anyhow/' I said, " we will make a point about 
 that hap-hazard criticism of irresponsible persons, who 
 do not consider either the truth, or the feelings of a 
 nation, so long as they can put together a few smart 
 things for their own glorification. Nobody ever heard 
 of the writer you mention until he abused America ; 
 and there are men who mistake notoriety for fame." 
 
 IV. 
 
 THE pieces produced during the two weeks of Irving' s 
 stay in Chicago were " Louis XL," " The Merchant of 
 Venice," " The Bells," " The Belle's Stratagem," and 
 " The Lyons Mail." On the last night, being called 
 before the curtain by one of the most crowded houses 
 of the season, he addressed the audience as follows : 
 
264 Impressions of America. 
 
 "Ladies and Gentlemen, It is my privilege to 
 thank you for the hearty and enthusiastic welcome 
 which you have given us during our too short stay 
 amongst you. Many years ago, when a boy in 
 England, I remember a song, 
 
 " ' To the West ! to the West ! 
 To the land of the free!' 
 
 I little dreamed in those days I should ever see your 
 fair city the Queen of the West. For the welcome 
 you have given my colleagues and myself I thank you 
 especially I thank you on behalf of Miss Ellen Terry, 
 whose indebtedness to you is equal to my own. I 
 was good-humouredly told the other day that I was 
 too pleased with America, especially with Chicago ; 
 and if I were to find some faults it might be a relief, 
 and would vary the monotony a little. (Laughter.) 
 
 " Well, I hope I am not naturally a fault-finder ; 
 but if I were, you have afforded me no opening ; for 
 you have loaded us with gratitude, and extended to us 
 a welcome as broad as the prairie upon which you 
 stand. I cannot leave you without thanking the press 
 of Chicago for its sympathy, its eloquent and its un- 
 grudging recognition of at least a sincere, although 
 incomplete, effort to bring the dramatic art abreast of 
 the other arts, and not leave the art of the stage 
 behind and out in the cold in the general march of 
 progress. 
 
 ' ( I am very glad to tell you that we shall soon meet 
 again; for we shall have the honour of appearing 
 before you on the llth of next month, when we 
 shall have the gratification of spending another week 
 amongst you. And now I beg to thank you again and 
 again, and I can but hope that we may live in your 
 memories as you will live in ours." (Applause.) 
 
 The receipts for the first week in Chicago were 
 $17,048, and for the second, $19,117; making a total 
 of $36,166. From a mere box-office point of view the 
 success of Irving's visit is unprecedented ; the increase 
 
The Prairie City. 265 
 
 of the receipts at the close of the engagement dissipating 
 the last " weak invention of the enemy " that he only 
 excites curiosity. If this shallow nonsense merited the 
 smallest attention, the figures already quoted would be 
 a sufficient answer. A truer test of the genuineness 
 of Irving's popularity, and the hold his work has ob- 
 tained upon the intelligent and intellectual public of 
 America, will be the character of his reception when, 
 in the course of the present tour, he begins to pay 
 return visits to Chicago, Boston, Philadelphia, and 
 ]N"ew York; for he goes back to these cities when their 
 enthusiasm may be said to have cooled, and in the 
 Lenten season, which is largely observed in the chief 
 cities of the United States. 
 
266 Impressions of A merica . 
 
 XVII. 
 
 ST. LOUIS, CINCINNATI, INDIANAPOLIS, 
 COLUMBUS. 
 
 Sunshine and Snow Wintry Landscapes Fire and Frost 
 Picturesque St. Louis" The Elks "A Notable Reception 
 " Dime Shows " Under- studies Germany in America 
 " On the Ohio " Printing under Difficulties " Baggage- 
 smashing" Handsome Negroes and Sunday Papers The 
 Wonders of Chicago. 
 
 I. 
 
 THERE was a little crowd of friends at the railway 
 station, to see us take our leave of Chicago, at noon on 
 Sunday, January 20, 1884. The weather was cold, 
 but there was a bright, sunny sky. Everybody was 
 in good spirits. The " Edwin Forrest " car, in which 
 we travelled, had now quite a familiar appearance. 
 George, a coloured attendant who had charge of it, was 
 there, with a merry grin upon his broad, intelligent 
 features. " A right good fellow, George," said Irving. 
 " Yes, that's so/' was George's response, as he relieved 
 him of his coat and stick, and led the way to the pretty 
 little suite of rooms on wheels allotted to Irving and 
 his friends. The other cars were also admirably ap- 
 pointed. 
 
 "This is something like a day for travelling!" 
 said one member of the company to another. The sun 
 blazed down upon them as they walked about, awaiting 
 the signal for departure, but there appeared to be very 
 little warmth in it. The sunbeams were bright, but 
 
6V. Louis, Cincinnati, &c. 267 
 
 they seemed to have contracted a chill as they fell. 
 Every now and then a gust of icy wind would come 
 along, as if to put truth into this conclusion. Terriss 
 and Tyars, braving the weather without overcoats, as 
 Englishmen delight to do, soon discovered that, after 
 all, the winter was still with us. As the cry " All 
 aboard/' followed by the clanging of the engine-bell, 
 set the train in motion, we entered once more .upon 
 severely wintry scenes of ice and snow. 
 
 Within a very short time we found ourselves in the 
 midst of snow-drifts, out of which preceding trains 
 had had to cut their way. Grangs of men were clearing 
 the track, flinging up the snow on both sides of the 
 road in solid shovelfuls. The white debris was piled 
 up six and eight feet high, where the snow had settled 
 down in great drifts upon the line. " One train was 
 stuck here five hours yesterday/' said the guard. " It 
 is the heaviest snow in my experience." 
 
 Moving onwards once more, we travelled through a 
 world of snow : through prairie-lands, where the wind 
 came tearing after us, waited upon by scudding clouds 
 of snow, that rose like spray, to fall in its wake as if 
 the prairie were a snow-sea ; past forests of oak, with 
 the brown leaves clinging to the tough branches, that 
 moved with a sturdy kind of protest against the 
 boisterous wind ; across great rivers, that were closed 
 to navigation. Now and then skating-parties flitted by 
 us in sheltered bends of the great silent water-ways, 
 and at intervals the sun would burst out upon the white 
 world and fill it with icy diamonds. 
 
 We met a train with five engines. It came plunging 
 along a veritable procession of locomotives. The 
 foremost of them were mighty ploughs, to charge the 
 growing snow-drifts we had left behind us. By-and- 
 by the sun went down, and when our lamps were 
 lighted, and it was night, as we thought, we looked 
 out to see one of the magnificent sunsets which had 
 been puzzling for many weeks the wise men of both 
 worlds, a wide red glare in the sky, stretching away 
 
268 Impressions of America. 
 
 as far as the eye could see, with a white foreground, 
 the line of the horizon dotted with the dark configura- 
 tion of farm buildings and forest trees. 
 
 At three o'clock in the morning we arrived at St. 
 Louis, and on the next day I walked across the 
 ice-locked Mississippi. In a street adjacent to the 
 quay with its frozen-up steamers and boats of all 
 kinds, were the remains of an old hotel, that had 
 been burnt out a short time previously. The ther- 
 mometer stood at twenty degrees below zero. A 
 first glance at the place, from a short distance, 
 showed a house with packs of wool thrust out at the 
 windows, and great bundles and entanglements of wool 
 hanging down to the ground from eaves and win- 
 dow-sills. On examination, these strange appearances 
 turned out to be excrescences of ice, part of the 
 water that had been poured upon the flames by the 
 fire-brigades, whose engines had literally frozen up 
 in the street. Inside the devastated buildings the 
 ruins were hung with icicles many feet in length, with 
 others rising to meet them, mimicking the stalactites 
 and stalagmites of the Cheddar caverns, in England, 
 not to mention the more famous caves of Kentucky. 
 
 A picturesque city, St. Louis, smoky and not over- 
 clean, but seated grandly upon the broad river which 
 local enterprise has spanned with a roadway that is 
 worthy of the engineering skill of the people whose 
 locomotives climb the Rocky mountains, and whose 
 bridges are the admiration of the world. One of the 
 picturesque memories of the tour, that will reappear at 
 odd times in " the magic lantern of the mental vision/' 
 will be the procession of carts and waggons, drawn by 
 teams of mules driven by coloured drivers, that is con- 
 tinually passing over the bridge across the Mississippi 
 at St. Louis. The English Government have obtained 
 a great many mules from this part of the United States. 
 There could be no finer breed of this useful animal than 
 the examples one saw at St. Louis. The drivers, almost 
 to a man, appeared to be wearing old army cloaks. 
 
St. Loids, Cincinnati, &c. 269 
 
 The greyish-blue of the cloth and the red linings, toned 
 down to rare " symphonies " of worn colour, were in 
 perfect harmony with the atmospheric and material 
 surroundings. Smoke hanging like a pall over the 
 city ; a wintry mist creeping along the icy river ; the 
 approaches to the bridge lost in the local haze of smoke 
 and snowy clouds ; the great mercantile procession of 
 mules, and carelessly laden waggons, bursting with 
 cotton, corn, and hides, made a fine busy foreground 
 to a very novel scene. 
 
 St. Louis accepted the plays, the acting, the scenery, 
 and the stage management of the Lyceum with much 
 of the earnest admiration that had characterized the 
 Chicago audiences. The Republican, the Globe-Democrat, 
 the Post-Dispatch, and the Chronicle had lengthy and 
 appreciative notices of "The Lyons Mail/' "The Bells/' . 
 and " The Merchant of Venice/' The spirit of the 
 criticism is crystallized in the following remarks, which 
 appeared as an editorial in the Post-Dispatch of 
 January 22 : 
 
 " To the delighted audience which hung with rapt attention 
 last night on each word and look, each tone and motion, of 
 Henry Irving, there was only one element of disappointment. 
 This was that they had not been prepared at all for any such 
 magnificent revelation of dramatic genius. ... As far as 
 the people of St. Louis are concerned, we have only to say 
 that those who miss seeing him will sustain a loss that can 
 never be made good." 
 
 II. 
 
 AMONG the social events of the visit to St. Louis 
 was a reception given in the lodge and club rooms of 
 the " Elks/' * The event was regarded as of so much 
 
 1 The institution of " The Elks " is one of influence and 
 importance. Its objects are to promote and advance the 
 material and social interests of the theatrical profession, and to 
 give mutual aid and assistance to the members in case of pecu- 
 niary need. Candidates for admission to the order must be 
 " proposed and vouched for" by existing members; and before 
 election they must pass through the ordeal of the ballot " after 
 
2 70 Impressions of America. 
 
 interest and importance, and the Elks is so excellent 
 an institution, and the affair so different to anything 
 associated with the theatre in England, that it merits 
 special attention. The local reporter will not, I am 
 sure, feel annoyed if I call in his aid to make the 
 record complete. 
 
 The lodge and club rooms, the hall-ways, and the 
 corridors, were decorated for the occasion. The 
 room where the formal introductions took place was 
 festooned with flags and evergreens. The yellow 
 light of the chandeliers was in striking contrast with 
 the white rays of two Edison lamps, that were artis- 
 tically hung at each end of the hall. Two handsome 
 crayon portraits of Irving and Miss Terry were dis- 
 played above the platform at the east end of the 
 room. Directly above them was the coat-of-arms of 
 England, draped with the English flag and the Union 
 Jack, while below and immediately over the lounge 
 was a bank of white immortelles, framed in flowers 
 and evergreens, and bearing in the centre the words 
 " Our Guests," worked in purple flowers. The plat- 
 forms at either end of the hall were decorated with 
 
 an investigation as to character by a committee of the lodge." 
 Membership is a title to relief in distress wherever there is a 
 lodge ; but a " black book " is kept and circulated containing 
 the names of members who have proved unworthy of their 
 privileges. Members need not necessarily be actors. Many 
 lawyers and journalists are Elks. The charity of the order is 
 secretly dispensed by an executive committee, sworn not to 
 divulge the channels into which it flows, or the names of those 
 who request assistance. Annual performances in aid of the 
 "charity fund" are given at the theatres. One of these 
 "benefits" occurred during Mr. Irving's first visit to New 
 York. Irving finding it impossible to accept an invitation to 
 be present, either as a performer or a spectator, sent a dona- 
 tion; and this was acknowledged by a formal resolution of 
 thanks, which, beautifully illuminated and framed, was pre- 
 sented to Irving at the Brevoort House by a deputation of the 
 members, headed by A. C. Morland, Exalted Kuler and Secre- 
 tary of the lodge ; A. L. Heckler, J. Steinfeld, George Clarke, 
 J. W. Hamilton, and James W. Collier, Chairman of the Com- 
 mittee of Arrangements. 
 
5V. Louis, Cincinnati, &c. 271 
 
 rare plants and exotics, interspersed with evergreens. 
 In one corner of the main room supper was spread 
 upon a table, the decorations of which were very dainty 
 flowers interspersed with culinary trophies. About 
 half-past nine o'clock the guests began to arrive and 
 disperse themselves here and there about the rooms. 
 An orchestra, under the direction of Professor Mad- 
 dern, furnished the music for promenading ; and an 
 agreeable little concert of instrumental and vocal 
 music led up to the entrance of the guests of the 
 evening. " About eleven/' says the local chronicler, 
 " they arrived, and were escorted to ' the lodge- room, 
 where all the other guests had assembled to receive 
 them. Mr. Irving entered, escorting Mrs. John W. 
 Norton, while Miss Terry was escorted by Mr. John 
 A. Dillon. As they strolled here and there about the 
 hall, they were introduced to those present. Mr. 
 Irving' s countenance, when in repose, was rather in- 
 clined to be sombre and solemn, but immediately 
 assumed a pleasant expression when he was intro- 
 duced to the ladies and gentlemen who had assembled to 
 do him honour." Mr. and Mrs. Howe, Mr. Wenman, 
 and several other members of Irving's company, were 
 present, and as one strolled through the rooms there 
 was something very homelike in these familiar faces 
 intermiDgled with the crowd. Says the local 
 chronicler : 
 
 " Miss Terry was the soul of life and animation. When she 
 was not chatting gaily with some lady or gentleman, who had 
 just been presented, she walked about with her escort, and 
 commented in a bright and interesting way on the decorations, 
 pictures, &c., that adorned the walls. She was becomingly 
 dressed in white silk, trimmed with Spanish lace, flowing 
 brocade train of white and crushed strawberry. Her only 
 jewellery were gold bracelets and a pearl necklace. On her 
 bosom she wore a bunch of natural flowers. 
 
 " After half an hour or so spent in conversation and pro- 
 menading the guests repaired to the club-room and partook of 
 supper. Here the greatest sociability prevailed. Mr. Irving 
 walked here and there, and conversed pleasantly and informally 
 with all the people he met ; while Miss Terry, seated in a large 
 
272 Impressions of America. 
 
 chair, was surrounded by a gay throng of young folk, and 
 appeared the youngest and gayest of them alL A number of 
 beautiful roses were taken from the table and presented to her 
 by ardent admirers, for all of whom she had a pleasant word, 
 and some little coquettish reply for their gallantry. About 
 twelve o'clock they left the rooms, and the guests slowly dis- 
 persed. Upwards of live hundred hosts and guests were 
 present. 2 
 
 A newspaper correspondent telegraphed to a Chicago 
 journal the startling information that Irving was 
 dissatisfied with this entertainment, and left early. 
 This was probably the reporter's sly way of com- 
 plimenting Chicago. The rivalry between these two 
 cities is often humorously illustrated in the press. St. 
 Louis is the elder and most historical city of the two ; 
 but Chicago is the most prosperous, and has, no 
 doubt, the greatest future. St. Louis, nevertheless, 
 claims to have a population of nearly 500,000 ; it 
 boasts double the park area of New York, and stands 
 " second only to Philadelphia in point of territory 
 devoted to public recreation."" 
 
 II. 
 
 Two weeks were spent between Sfc. Louis, Cincinnati, 
 Indianapolis, and Columbus. The New York repertoire 
 was played with excellent results in every way. 
 
 "Indianapolis and Columbus," said Irving, "are 
 evidently behind St. Louis and Cincinnati in their 
 appreciation of the arts ; though. I have no reason to 
 complain, nor has Miss Terry. They came to the 
 theatre in large numbers, were most excellent 
 
 2 The Irving-Terry reception, by>the Elks, Wednesday even- 
 ing, was a notable social event. The Elks were there, of 
 course ; but it is worthy of notice that, at this testimonial 
 offered to two eminent members of the dramatic profession, 
 the attendance of ladies represented the most exclusive and 
 aristocratic circles of St. Louis society ; and quite a number of 
 the most liberal and eminent of the clergymen were there also. 
 " Society " in St. Louis has more good common-sense than in 
 any other city in the Union. Post-Dispatch, Jan. 26. 
 
St. Louis, Cincinnati, &c. 273 
 
 audiences, cordial in their reception of us, and flatter- 
 ing in their applause; but in walking through their 
 streets one could not help seeing that there was a good 
 deal too much of the ' Dime Museum ' business in 
 these places for art in its best forms to flourish liberally 
 at present. ' The Fat Lady/ < The Two-headed Pig/ 
 'The Tattooed Man/ and 'The Wild Men of the 
 Woods/ appear to have a great hold on Indianapolis 
 and Columbus. Indeed, they make a fight for it 
 against the theatres, even in St. Louis and Cincinnati. 
 You remember the great wide street, 'in Birmingham, 
 called the Bull King? Well, the show-streets of these 
 cities remind me of a concentrated Bull Ring in Bir- 
 mingham, where e Living Wonders/ ' The Wizard of the 
 North/ and ( The Fortune-Telling Pony/ are always, 
 more or less, challenging public attention. I believe 
 Ball, the leader of our orchestra, had some special 
 trouble at Indianapolis. The violoncello, for example, 
 had only two strings. Ball, on the second night, 
 chaffingly said, ' I suppose you will consider two 
 strings sufficient for to-night ? ' ( No/ was the reply; 
 ' I stick to three, on principle. ' " 
 
 ff Did you hear about the manager who gave the 
 extra musicians in his orchestra something less than 
 usual/' I asked, " because, as he said, they would see 
 you for nothing, and that should be considered when 
 every seat was taken ? At night they complained ; 
 they said, 'You liave swindled us; we have not seen 
 Irving act at all ; we have only seen him at rehearsal. 
 We have been playing under the stage, at the back of 
 it, behind flats, or smothered up at the wings, where 
 we could see nothing, and you have got to give us our 
 full pay." 
 
 It is quite new in American theatres for the orchestra 
 to be put into such frequent requisition behind the 
 scenes, as is the case in Irving' s representations. The 
 special engagement of a tenor (Mr. J. Robertson) 
 to sing the ballad in " Much Ado " is an unheard-of 
 extravagance. Mr. Robertson also gave very valuable 
 
274 Impressions of America. 
 
 assistance in the quartettes and choruses introduced 
 with fine effect in " The Merchant/' " The Bells/' and 
 other plays ; which reminds me that among the 
 saddening incidents of the tour were the sudden recall 
 to Englaod of Mr. Johnson, the low comedian, to the 
 sick-bed of his wife ; and the withdrawal of Mr. Norman 
 Forbes from the cast of " The Merchant,'' through 
 illness. We left Forbes at one of the cities, with 
 a serious attack of rheumatic fever. The " under- 
 studies " had to be employed, necessitating many new 
 rehearsals. Mr. Howe, at a moment's notice, undertook 
 the part of Dogberry, and played it admirably ; while 
 Mr. Carter took the part of Richard in " Louis XI. /' 
 and Mr. Harbury gave extra and efficient service in 
 the graveyard scene in " Hamlet." Mr. Andrews was 
 cast for the part of Lancelot in "The Merchant," 
 replacing Mr. Johnson, and Mr. Lyndal played Claudio 
 in " Much Ado " in such a way as to entitle him to 
 the compliments of Irving, which were generously and 
 ungrudgingly given. 
 
 " Cincinnati/' said Irving, " has great aims in the 
 direction of art. It has a grand public hall, endowed 
 by a local philanthropist, in which it gives musical, 
 operatic, and dramatic festivals. This year the opera 
 occupies its enormous stage. The Festival Committee 
 gave me a dinner at the Queen City Club. It was a 
 most interesting reunion. 3 The city is very picturesque, 
 
 3 The Dramatic Festival Association tendered a dinner to 
 Mr. Henry Irving, at the Queen City Club rooms, last evening, 
 after the great actor's final performance at the Grand Opera 
 House. There were present, besides the distinguished guest, 
 Governor Noyes, ex-president of the association; Manager 
 Henry E. Abbey ; Colonel Miles, city dramatic director ; 
 Secretary Hall, Mr. Halstead, Judge Force, Colonel Dayton, 
 Mr. Alter, Mr. Huntington, Mr. J. W. Miller, Mr. Nat. H. 
 Davis, Mr. Devereux, Mr. Chatfield, Mr. Bram Stoker, manager 
 for Mr. Irving ; Mr. Wetherby, Mr. Stevens, Copleston, agent 
 of Mr. Abbey ; Mr. Charles Taft, Mr. Leonard, Colonel Mark- 
 breit, Mr. Will. Carlisle, Mr. Frank Alter, and others, to the 
 number of thirty or more. Cincinnati News Journal, Feb. 3, 
 1884. 
 
S/f. Louis, Cincinnati, &c. 275 
 
 I should say, if one could only have seen it ; but it was 
 choked with snow, and in a continual mist or fog. The 
 ice in the river broke up before we left, a wonderful 
 sight it was ; a great rising flood, filled with ice and 
 snow, along the wharves silent ships and steamers, 
 surprising to look down upon from the hills. As the 
 city has grown the people have had to build on the 
 heights, and the street-cars are hauled up on elevators 
 you drive your carriage upon these platforms and 
 are raised to the roads above, it is something like 
 going up in a balloon. A mist hung over the river, 
 the water was rising rapidly, and people were express- 
 ing fears that the place would be flooded, as it had been 
 a year or two previously. 4 There is a German quarter. 
 
 4 Irving saw the beginning of one of the periodical disasters 
 to which Cincinnati is subjected, the overflowing of the Ohio. 
 Within a few days after his visit the city was inundated, 
 thousands of people were homeless, entire families flying from 
 their homes, their houses wrecked, their property floating down 
 the river. Many lives were lost up and down stream. Great 
 floods occurred in other districts, the busy manufacturing city 
 of Pittsburg being among the most serious sufferers. Cincinnati 
 had hardly recovered from the floods, and thought out new 
 devices for dealing with any future trouble of the kind, when 
 she was visited with another disaster, a great and fatal riot. 
 All countries have their public abuses, their governmental 
 shortcomings. England has plenty of them ; the administra- 
 tion of the law in America is far from perfect. As long as 
 judges are elected by popular vote, so long will there be serious 
 miscarriages of justice ; so long as juries can be packed, 
 intimidated, and bribed, so long will the jury system be found 
 defective. Such glaring instances of malfeasance and failure 
 in the administration of justice had, from time to time, occurred 
 at Cincinnati that (upon the principle that it is the last straw 
 that breaks the camel's back), when " another notorious murderer 
 was let off," the populace arose, attacked the jail where a 
 company of other ruffians were imprisoned, with a view to taking 
 the law into their own hands. The militia, being called out, 
 fired into the rioters. Many persons were killed and wounded 
 before order could be restored. The press of the country, while 
 regretting the breach of the peace and the loss of life, generally 
 insist upon the moral that governments must not look for people 
 to respect the law in face of corruption in high places and 
 notorious compromises with thieves and murderers. " The objec- 
 
 T 2 
 
276 Impressions of America. 
 
 It is called ( Germany/ and has all the characteristics 
 of the Fatherland in its beer-gardens, concert-rooms, 
 theatres, and general mode of life. Next to the native 
 Americans the Germans are the most influential people. 
 They have several newspapers printed in their own 
 language, and in the regular German type. 5 The 
 
 tive point of the mob," wrote the special correspondent of the 
 New York Sun, " was the jail, and the murderers it contained, 
 whom they meant to hang. Twenty-three murderers are in that 
 jail, none of whom have had a trial, except William Hugh, who 
 is to be hanged; and Emil Trompeter, who has had two trials, 
 and is to have a third. In the list are William Hartnett, who 
 murdered his wife with an axe ; Joe Palmer, the negro confederate 
 of William Berner in murdering William Kirk, and Allen 
 Ingalls and Ben Johnson, the Avondale negro burkers. In 
 addition to these there are several murderers out on bail and 
 walking the streets. They have not been tried, though the 
 murders for which they were indicted were committed months 
 ago." The New York Herald, editorially discussing "the 
 results of the riot," says that, in the first place, " no jury in 
 that city for some time to come will outrage justice and public 
 decency by making a mockery of murder-trials," and that, 
 "in the next place, the people of Cincinnati have become 
 deeply impressed with the importance of divorcing partisan 
 politics from the administration of justice and municipal affairs 
 generally. Before the echoes of the riot have died away they have 
 started a citizens' movement, with the determination to put in 
 the field and elect at the coming municipal election candidates 
 not identified with either party machine, but representative of 
 the highest order of citizenship. When this is done there will 
 be a more effective administration of law and justice, and a 
 reform of abuses which contributed, directly or indirectly, in no 
 small degree, to the disastrous events of the past few days." 
 
 5 " Louis XI.," " Charles the First," " The Merchant of 
 Venice," " The Bells," and " The Lyons Mail," drew great and 
 fashionable houses at Cincinnati, and the criticisms in the native 
 press and in the German newspapers were written in a spirit of 
 cordiality, much of it descriptive, and all of it recognizing the 
 possibilities of a speedy reformation in the existing method of 
 representing the classic drama in the West. The following 
 translation of some of the most prominent passages in a lengthy 
 criticism of " The Merchant of Venice " is from Tagliches Cin- 
 cinnati Volksblatt, one of the principal German newspapers of 
 the district : 
 
 " The court-scene is a masterpiece, and is filled with so many 
 
K$V. Louis, Cincinnati, &c. 277 
 
 sudden rises of the Ohio appear to be the chief draw- 
 back. They are very philosophical about it, and try 
 to console themselves on the ground that, if they 
 suffer from water, they have not been burned out, as 
 some other cities have. Cincinnati has a noble 
 ambition : it aims at becoming a great centre of culture, 
 more particularly in art and science. It is making a 
 magnificent start in its schools of design, its art leagues, 
 its university, and the museum which is being built 
 in Eden Park. I was struck with an incident related 
 to me by a friend of yours. One of the newspaper 
 
 details that the spectator follows the action with lively interest, 
 and imagines himself in a real court of law. The decoration of 
 the last act, a wonderful park scene, with moonlight, was 
 ravishing, and the madrigals behind the scene were charmingly 
 melodious, and were also excellently sung ; in a word, one saw a 
 great performance of ' The Merchant of Venice,' and not only 
 Mr. Irving, as Shylock, or Miss Terry, as Portia. By that we 
 do not mean to say that Henry Irving's performance was less 
 
 freat ; on the contrary, he con firmed and fortified, through his 
 hylock, the judgment we pronounced upon his Louis XI. His 
 reading is entirely the same as Doring's, who ranked as the best 
 Shylock in Germany, and who has not yet found a successor. 
 It is the covetous, vindictive Jew ; but he is rather an object of 
 pity than of scorn. It was the Jew whose passionate tempera- 
 ment and inexorable vengeance naturally seized upon the first 
 opportunity of gratifying his hatred towards the Christians, who 
 heaped mockeries, insults, and injustice upon him, particularly 
 Antonio, who treated him with the utmost scorn. This was the 
 Jew Shakespeare drew, played by Mr. Irving with the refine- 
 ment of an artist and the sharp observance of a philologist. 
 . . . His facial expression is mobile and most expressive . . 
 and his speech has only just the accent by which the Jews 
 of that class are known. His acting in the first scene, in the 
 scene with Tubal, and, above all, in the court scene (particu- 
 larly the passing from cruel, passionate joy to the consciousness 
 of his own torpid despair), was the true work of a great actor. 
 . . . Miss Ellen Terry, who plays Portia, was reported from 
 other towns where she had appeared to be a great actress : 
 the audience was, therefore, highly expectant. . . . She took 
 the public from first to last by storm. . . . She is one of those 
 endowed actresses, who shine so completely in the character 
 they represent that the spectator forgets the actress, and only 
 tees the person represented in the piece." 
 
278 Impressions of America. 
 
 offices was burned down. The fire took place while 
 the paper was at press. Seeing that it was impossible 
 to save the machinery, they put on the highest speed 
 and worked off the sheets until the place was too hot 
 to hold them ; and the men stepped out with the printed 
 sheets, almost as the ceiling fell in upon the machinery. 
 By the aid of a neighbour, and the presses of a rival 
 who had failed, they came out the next day with a full 
 report of the calamity, in which, I believe, some lives 
 were lost. An example of American enterprise that, 
 eh?" 
 
 "At Columbus I went to the State house while 
 the General Assembly and Senate were sitting. If 
 one were a politician, I can imagine nothing more in- 
 teresting than to study the details of the American 
 system of government, the question of State rights, 
 and other features of the general administration. Each 
 State seems very distinct and independent of the 
 other. For instance, some States and cities have 
 special laws of their own, and many complications 
 which seem inexplicable would be more easily ex- 
 plained if this were more understood. It is not the 
 government of the United States which can control all 
 matters ; it is the State which sometimes plays the 
 principal part. I did not quite understand that until 
 recently. For instance, in New York City or State, 
 there is a law giving certain privileges to ticket specu- 
 lators ; while at Philadelphia, and at Boston, I believe, 
 there is a law against speculators selling tickets on the 
 pavements. Talking upon this subject to a lawyer in 
 Baltimore, he told me that baggage-smashing on the 
 railroads had reached such a pitch that a State law had 
 been passed in Maryland making it a misdemeanour. 
 English and indeed European travellers generally, who 
 have had no experience of America, can have no con- 
 ception of the way in which baggage is treated j it 
 seems to me as if the intention often is really to stave 
 in trunks and boxes. The credulous Britisher, who 
 should put on his trunk, ' This side up, with care,' 
 
St. Lo^t^s, Cincinnati, &c. 279 
 
 would have a fit if he saw the porter throw it down with 
 a crash on the other side, and then pile a ton or two 
 of the heaviest kind of merchandise upon it. When 
 you think of the respect with which a traveller's 
 trunks are treated on European railways, it is startling 
 to encounter a general sort of conspiracy to break 
 them up, and in a country which has invented the 
 best system of ' expressing 3 and delivering baggage 
 known to modern travel, to me this is incompre- 
 hensible." 
 
 ' l From Columbus we went back to Chicago, the first 
 of our return visits. I felt quite at home again at the 
 Grand Pacific Hotel, one of the finest and most com- 
 fortable houses of the entire tour. The coloured 
 attendant, Walter, who is told off for my service, is the 
 most intelligent and courteous fellow I have ever met 
 in the position he holds. Singularly handsome, too, 
 is he not? Indeed one is struck with the physical 
 beauty of some of these half-breeds, mulattoes, Creoles 
 wonderful fellows ! I remember that Sala describes 
 the Grand Pacific as ' Wonder number One ' among the 
 marvels of Chicago, and the newspaper press as 
 * Wonder number Two/ I should put the press first, 
 did you ever see such papers as the Sunday journals ? 
 Sixteen to twenty and twenty-four pages, why, it's 
 marvellous how they get the matter for them together ! 
 One of the St. Louis papers I noticed was also a very 
 large one. What a deftness of allusion and adaptation 
 of events to personal criticism there is in these western 
 journals ! The Standard oil affair, I don't know the 
 merits of it ; but charges of unfairness in connection 
 with the enterprise are before the public. Somebody 
 has sent me this paragraph about it, from the Colum- 
 bus Times : 
 
 " The members of the General Assembly who looked upon 
 the Standard oil, when it flowed with unction in the recent 
 senatorial struggle, might get a few points on the effects of the 
 remorse of conscience by seeing Henry Irving in ' The Bells.' " 
 
 "Flattering, eh?" 
 
2 8o Impressions of A merica. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 CHIEFLY CONCERNING A HOLIDAY AT 
 NIAGARA. 
 
 The Return Visit to Chicago Welcomed back again Fare- 
 well Speech Niagara in the Winter A Sensation at the 
 Hotel Requisitioning adjacent Towns for Chickens and 
 Turkeys Ira Aldridge and a Coloured Dramatic Club A 
 Blizzard from the North-West The Scene of Webb's 
 Death " A great Stage-manager, Nature " Life and 
 Death of " The Hermit of Niagara "A fatal Picnic The 
 Lyceum Company at Dinner Mr. Howe proposes a Toast 
 Terriss meets with an Accident that recalls a Romantic 
 Tragedy. 
 
 1 ' THE fact of Mr. Irving and Miss Terry and their 
 company attracting an audience to fill Haverly's 
 Theatre on so speedy a return after leaving us, and 
 that, too, following a rugged strain of grand opera," 
 said the Chicago Inter-Ocean of February 12, " may be 
 accepted as conclusive evidence of genuine apprecia- 
 tion and admiratioQ of their worth. This testimony is 
 much strengthened by the fact that the plays presented 
 were those most frequently seen during the original 
 engagements, * The Bells,' and ' The Belle's Strata- 
 gem,' for, though it is thought Mr. Irving is seen 
 to exceptional advantage as Mathias, mere curiosity 
 would nave held off to see him in a new character. It 
 was a generous and highly gratifying welcome back ; 
 and it is certainly a great pleasure, as well as an 
 artistic privilege worthy to be acknowledged, that we 
 
A Holiday at Niagara. 281 
 
 have Mr. Irving and his superb surroundings again 
 before us. We are in no danger of seeing too much of 
 this sort of work." 
 
 " Hamlet " and ' ' Much Ado " were produced for 
 the first time at Chicago during this second season. 
 Both excited genuine interest, and were received with 
 as much favour by audiences and critics as his previous 
 work. Only two weeks had intervened between his 
 first and second visit. More money was paid at the 
 doors of Haverly's during the week than had gone 
 into the treasury for a week of grand opera. The 
 programme for the last night was " Much Ado/' and 
 the recitation of Hood's " Eugene Aram." After en- 
 thusiastic calls for Irving and Miss Terry, at the close 
 of the comedy, there were cries of " Speech ! Speech ! " 
 Irving, in evening dress for the recitation, presently 
 responded to the wishes of his audience. He said he 
 would be made of sterner stuff and he was glad that 
 such was not the case if he failed to feel profoundly 
 the welcome that had been accorded him in Chicago. 
 Not one shadow had fallen across the brightness of 
 that welcome ; there was not a jarring note in the 
 generous applause that had greeted the company's 
 efforts. The encouragement had been most grateful, 
 and it had urged himself and his associates to do their 
 best work. He thanked the press of the city for over- 
 looking shortcomings, and for recognizing so gener- 
 ously what they found to be good. The notices had 
 been most eloquent and sympathetic. He wished to 
 thank the audience on behalf of his associates, and 
 particularly on behalf of Miss Ellen Terry, whose 
 great gifts had been so quickly recognized. If he 
 might be permitted to say so in public, he himself 
 heartily joined in their appreciation of Miss Terry's 
 work. 
 
 Parting was a ' ' sweet sorrow," and the sweet part 
 of his leave-taking was in expressing his deep sense 
 of Chicago's great welcome. Again he would say 
 good-bye to every one ; but he hoped circumstances 
 
282 Impressions of America. 
 
 would make it possible to meet a Chicago audience in 
 the future, and he trusted that ' l you will remember us 
 as we will surely remember you." 
 
 " The speaker/' says the Tribune, " was frequently 
 interrupted by applause, his reference to Miss Terry 
 especially awakening enthusiasm. He then recited 
 ' Eugene Aram's Dream ' with fine effect, and after 
 inducing him to respond to a fifth and last recall, the 
 audience dispersed." 
 
 ir. 
 
 ON the following Monday and Tuesday the company 
 appeared for two nights at Detroit, 1 the chief city of 
 Michigan, to large and most friendly audiences. I 
 was in New York at this time, and had arranged to 
 meet Irving, Miss Terry, and a few friends, at Niagara, 
 on Wednesday. " If Abbey is agreeable, I shall give 
 the company a holiday, so that they can go to Niagara, 2 
 
 1 Detroit is a handsome and populous city on the banks of a 
 noble river that connects Lake Erie and St. Clair. The com- 
 pany gave two performances at Whitney's Opera House, to 
 large audiences, by whom they were heartily received. The Post 
 and Tribune contained long and complimentary notices of the 
 plays and the actors, with lists of the principal people in the 
 audiences. " The coming of Mr. Irving and Miss Terry," it 
 says, " was a great event in dramatic circles here, and has long 
 been looked forward to with expectancy. The audience that 
 greeted them completely filled the house, every seat being occu- 
 pied, while many were content to stand during the entire per- 
 formance. It was also a fashionable audience, in the fullest 
 sense of the word, all of Detroit's most pronounced society 
 people being there." 
 
 2 The Niagara Falls Courier has an interesting article on the 
 many orthographical changes of the name of Niagara. In 1687 
 it was written Oniogoragn. In 1686 Gov. Dongan appeared 
 uncertain about it, and spelled it Onniagero, Onyagara, and 
 Onyagro. The French, in 1638 to 1709, wrote it Niaguro, Onya- 
 gare, Onyagra and Oneygra. Philip Livingstone wrote in 
 1720 to 1730 Octjagara, Jagera, and Yagerah ; and Schuyler 
 and Livingston, Commissioners of Indian Affairs, wrote it in 
 1720 Onjagerae, Ocniagara, &c. In 1721 it was written Onja- 
 
A Holiday at Niagara. 283 
 
 spend the day, and sleep in Toronto at night. It will 
 do us all good." Abbey was agreeable, and Wednes- 
 day, February 20th, was one of the most memorable 
 days of the tour. 
 
 I travelled from New York by the West Shore Eoad, 
 an admirably equipped railway (and having at Syra- 
 cuse the most picturesque and one of the finest stations 
 in America), to meet my friends at the Falls. At 
 two o'clock, on Tuesday, I arrived on the Canadian side 
 of the river. The country was covered with snow, 
 bat a thaw had set in during the morning. Driving 
 from the railway station the scene was wild, weird, 
 and impressive. The steep banks of the Niagara River 
 were seamed and furrowed with ice and snow. The 
 American side of the ravine was ploughed by the 
 weather into ridges. One might say the river-banks 
 were corrugated, cracked, grooved into strange lines, 
 every channel ribbed with ice. Here and there tiny 
 falls, that had mimicked the colossal ones beyond, 
 were frozen into columns. Others had been converted 
 into pillars that seemed to be supporting white, ghost- 
 like figures. Further on there was a cluster of foun- 
 tains gushing out of the rocks beneath a number of 
 mills, the wheels of which they had turned on their 
 way to the river. These waters leaped down some 
 fifty or sixty feet into great ice-bowls. You would 
 think they had found an outlet other than the river 
 but for its discoloration at the base of the 
 natural urns, or bowls, into which they fell. There 
 were ponderous heaps of ice at the bed of the American 
 falls. A section of them was literally frozen into a 
 
 gora, Oniagara, and accidentally, probably, Niagara, as at pre- 
 sent. Lieut. Lindsay wrote it Niagara in 1751. So did Capt. De 
 Lancey (son of Gov. De Lancey), who was an officer in the Eng- 
 lish army that captured Fort Niagara from the French in 1759. 
 " These pioneers," says the local journalist, " may, however, 
 be excused in view of the fact as will be attested by post- 
 masters that some letter- writers of to-day seem quite as 
 undecided about the orthography of this world-wide familiar 
 
 name. 
 
284 Impressions of America. 
 
 curious mass of icicles. The ice was not bright, but had 
 a dull, woolly appearance. Coming upon a slight bend 
 of the river, you see the two great falls almost at the 
 same moment. On this day they were almost enveloped 
 in spray. Our horses splashed through thawing snow, 
 and picked their way over a road broken up with 
 scoriated ice and flooded with water. A strong, but 
 not a cold, wind blew in our faces, and covered us 
 with spray. The water was pouring down the abyss 
 in greater masses it seemed to me than usual ; and this 
 was my third visit to Niagara. I had seen the falls in 
 summer and in autumn. Their winter aspect has not the 
 fascinating charm of the softer periods of the year, 
 when the banks are green, and the leaves are rustling 
 on the trees of the islands. The Clifton House was 
 closed, and its balconies, upon which merry parties 
 sit and chat on summer evenings, were empty. 
 Even the Prospect House looked chilly. The flood fell 
 into its awful gulf with a dull, thudding boom, and 
 the rapids above were white and angry. 
 
 I wondered what Irving would think of the scene. 
 Some persons profess that they are disappointed with 
 the first sight of Niagara. There are also people 
 who look upon the ocean without surprise ; and some 
 who see the curtain go up on a grand opera, 
 for the first time in their lives, without experienc- 
 ing one throb of the sensation which Bulwer 
 describes with pathetic eloquence. The Eev. Dr. 
 Thomas, a popular preacher in the Prairie city, 
 went to his first play while Irving was at Chicago, and 
 was greatly impressed ; although he half confessed 
 that, on the whole, he liked a good lecture quite as 
 well. A coloured man and his wife, at Philadelphia, 
 told me they had always considered the play wicked, 
 and would never have thought to go to a theatre, had 
 not one of their clergymen done so. " But," said the 
 husband, tf I see noffin' wicked nor wrong, and it did 
 my heart good to see all dem white folk bowing to de 
 coloured gentleman and making much of him." It was 
 
A Holiday at Niagara. 285 
 
 the casket scene in " The Merchant " that had most 
 delighted these people. 
 
 Almost the first thing I did on arriving at Niagara 
 was to send Irving a telegram, asking if he had settled 
 where to stay, and advising him that for a brief visit 
 the Prospect House was most conveniently placed for 
 seeing the falls. The response was a request for rooms. 
 This was followed by an inquiry if the house could 
 provide a dinner for seventy ; and from that moment I 
 found myself actively engaged, not in reviving my 
 former recollections of Niagara, but in preparing to 
 receive the Irving company. The proprietor of the 
 Prospect House is a land-owner in Manitoba. He was 
 looking after his interests in those distant regions. 
 The landlady, a bright, clever woman of business, 
 however, undertook to " run the dinner." 
 
 ee The house is partially closed, as you know," she 
 said, " and it is small. We have only a few servants 
 during the winter, and it is difficult to get provisions 
 at short notice. But we have the Western Union tele- 
 graph in the house, and a telephone. We will do our 
 best." 
 
 The intelligent coloured waiter found it ' ' impossible 
 to seat seventy persons in the dining-room." 
 
 " They must dine at twice,'' he said ; <( that's the 
 only chance ; no help for it." 
 
 It was night before the order for dinner was really 
 closed and settled, many telegrams passing between 
 Detroit and Niagara ; and, as 1 found to my consterna- 
 tion, between Niagara and several adjacent towns. 
 
 " Not a turkey nor a chicken to be got for love or 
 money," said the landlady. " I have telegraphed and 
 telephoned the whole neighbourhood, just going to 
 try Buffalo, as a last resort. You see the hotels here 
 are closed, and it is very quiet in the winter." 
 
 " As good a dinner as can be provided," was one of 
 Stoker's latest telegrams, " and it must be ready at 
 half-past three to the minute." 
 
 The excitement at the Prospect House was tremen- 
 
286 Impressions of America. 
 
 dous. The falls were quite discounted. They were of 
 no moment for the time being, compared with the ques- 
 tion of turkeys and the seating of the coming guests. 
 
 " You have beef, mutton, ham, you say ? " 
 
 "Yes, and we can make excellent soup, a 
 nice lot of fish has come in from Toronto, lake fish, 
 but turkeys, no ; chickens, no ; though I have tele- 
 graphed everywhere and offered any price for them. 
 Ah, if we had only known two days ago ! " said the 
 landlady. 
 
 " Never mind, let it be a plain English dinner, horse- 
 radish sauce with the beef, can you manage that ? " 
 
 " Yes. Oh, yes ! " 
 
 " And boiled legs of mutton, eh ? " 
 
 " Yes, with caper sauce/' 
 
 " Capital. And what do you say to plum-pudding ?" 
 
 " I fear there will not be time to stone the raisins ; 
 but Fll telephone into the town at once and see." 
 
 While she was gone I surveyed the dining-room 
 once more. "If you moved the stove, and placed 
 forms against the walls, instead of chairs, how would 
 that be ? " I asked. 
 
 It was a great problem, this. My coloured ally and 
 his two assistants set to measuring with a foot-rule. 
 They had their woolly heads together when I looked in 
 upon them an hour later. 
 
 "Yes, I believe it can be done," said the chief 
 waiter ; and before midnight the tables were arranged, 
 the stove cleared out, and the room almost ready for 
 the feasters. As he was leaving for the night he said, 
 " The people of my race honour Mr. Irving. He knew 
 our great actor, Ira Aldridge. There was a letter from 
 Mr. Irving about him, and a dramatic club started by 
 our folk in the New York papers. Rely on me, sir, to 
 have this dinner a success." 3 
 
 3 The following is the correspondence alluded to : 
 
 "MR. IRVING: New York, Jan. 20, 1884. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, The creation and development of a taste for 
 true dramatic art among the coloured citizens of culture in New 
 
A Holiday at Niagara. 287 
 
 in. 
 
 WEDNESDAY morning was ushered in with a- blizzard 
 from the north-west. The roads that had been slushy 
 the day before were hard as adamant. There was ice 
 
 York city, having been long regarded as a necessity to their 
 intellectual growth, a number of ladies and gentlemen, selected 
 for their evidences of dramatic ability, which they have shown 
 from time to time, met on the evening of January 7, and per- 
 fected the organization of the 'Irving Dramatic Club.' In 
 apprising you of this fact, we beg leave to assure you, sir, that, 
 in selecting your name for the title of our club, we did not choose 
 it because we felt we were conferring an honour, far from it, 
 for we well know that the mere naming of an amateur club 
 could add nothing to the lustre of the laurels so deservedly won 
 by one who so fittingly represents as yourself all that is noble 
 and grand in dramatic art, But, having in our mind the record 
 of past events, we could not fail to recognize that the English 
 stage and its representatives were but the synonyms of equity 
 and justice. 
 
 " Thus, in searching for a patron, we naturally reverted to 
 that source from which our efforts were mostly to be regarded 
 with favour ; and, acting upon this impulse, we could think of no 
 name that would be a greater incentive to conscientious and 
 praiseworthy effort than that of Irving. 
 
 " Hoping that this action will meet with your approval, 
 we remain, with best wishes for your health and prosperity, 
 respectfully yours, 
 
 "IKYING DEAMATIC CLUB. 
 
 " CHARLES G. BOWSER, Pres. 
 
 "W. H. A. MOORE, See." 
 
 " ST. Louis, Jan. 26, 1884. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, I have received your letter of the 20th, and it 
 gives me great pleasure to have my name associated with so 
 gratifying an intellectual movement among the coloured citizens 
 of New York as the establishment of a Dramatic Club. Art is 
 of no country, and has no nationality. Europe is deeply 
 indebted to the artistic culture of the great coloured people of the 
 Eastern World, and there is promise of a future for your race, 
 in the fact that you have ceased to feel the disabilities of colour 
 in your association with your white fellow-citizens. I once had 
 the pleasure of knowing a very famous actor of your race, Ira 
 Aldridge. I wish for your club a prosperous career, and beg to 
 subscribe myself, 
 
 " Yours truly, HENRY IRVING." 
 
288 < Impressions of America. 
 
 in the wind. The air was keen as a knife. A traveller 
 who had come in from Manitoba said that during the 
 night it was " as much as your life was worth to pass 
 from one car to another." Towards noon the weather 
 moderated. The sun came out, the wind changed, the 
 spray from the falls fell into the river. A rainbow 
 stretched its luminous arch over the American falls. 
 
 " I have often thought," I said to Irving, " during 
 this tour, how surprised any English traveller who knew 
 London well would be, if he encountered the Lyceum 
 Company by accident at some wayside American rail- 
 way station, not knowing of this visit to the States." 
 
 " Yes," he said, " do you remember the people at 
 Amsterdam, in Holland, who followed us to the hotel 
 there, one of them, a German, making a bet about us, 
 the others ridiculing the idea that I could be out of 
 London, when he had seen me acting there a few days 
 before ? " 
 
 We were on our way to the falls, driving in a close 
 carriage, Irving, Miss Terry, and myself, and I think 
 we talked on general topics a little, while they were 
 trying to take in the approaches to the great scene 
 of all. 
 
 " Toole and his dear boy, Frank, lost their way, one 
 night, about here," said Irving. " I remember his 
 telling me of it couldn't get a carriage were belated, 
 I remember. There was no fence to the river then, I 
 expect, a dangerous place to lose your way in. How 
 weird it looks ! " 
 
 " Oh, there are the falls ! " Miss Terry exclaimed, 
 looking through the glass window in front of us. 
 " Surely ! Yes, indeed ! There they are ! How 
 wonderful ! " 
 
 I had told the driver to pull up at the bend of the 
 river, where we should get the first view of them. 
 Irviog turned to look. 
 
 " Drive on," I said, and in a few minutes we pulled 
 up in full view of both falls. 
 
 " Yery marvellous ! " said Irving. " Do you see 
 
A Holiday at Niagara. 289 
 
 those gulls sailing through the spray? How regularly 
 the water comes over ! It hardly looks like water, 
 there seems to be no variety in its grand, liquid 
 roll; and, do you notice, in parts it curls like long, 
 broken ringlets, curls and ripples, but is always the 
 same. What a power it suggests ! Of course, the 
 colour will vary in the light. It is blue and green in 
 the summer, I suppose ; now it is yellowish here and 
 there, and gray. There have been great floods above, 
 yonder are the rapids above the falls, I suppose? 
 How wonderfully the waters come leaping along, 
 like an angry sea ! " 
 
 He watched the scene, and noted everything that 
 struck him. Miss Terry joined some members of 
 the company, and went driving. Later a party of 
 us went to the rapids and the whirlpool, where 
 Webb was drowned. Irving discussed the fatal feat 
 with one of the men who saw the swimmer take 
 his courageous header and go bounding through the 
 rapids. 
 
 " It was there where he disappeared," said the man, 
 pointing to a spot where the waters appeared to leap as 
 if clearing an obstruction ; " he dived, intending to go 
 through that wave, and never was seen again alive. 
 It is believed his head struck a sunken rock there, 
 which stunned him/'' 
 
 Irving stood for a long time looking at this part of 
 the river, discussing the various theories as to its 
 depth. " A bold fellow'/' he exclaimed, as he left the 
 place ; " he deserved to get through it. Imagine the 
 coolness, the daring of it ! he takes a quiet dinner, it 
 seems, at his hotel, rests a little, then hires a boat, 
 rows to the place where the rapids fairly begin, strips 
 and dives into this awful torrent, a great soul, 
 sir, any man who has the nerve for such an enter- 
 prise ! " 
 
 We walked back to the falls, and on our return 
 observed a great change in the colour of the scene. 
 
 " Quite a transformation in its way, is it not ? " said 
 
 u 
 
290 Impressions of America. 
 
 Irving' ; f ( let us take in the picture, as a painter might. 
 The horizon, you see, is a bluish-purple ; the Canadian 
 falls have a grayish-blue tint, except where the positive 
 golden yellow of the water comes in; then, as it 
 plunges below, the foam is of a creamy whiteness ; the 
 mist and spray rise up a warmish-gray in the half- 
 shaded sunlight; the snowy rocks are white against it. 
 The sun is about to set, I suppose, and these are some 
 of its premonitory colours. The river, you see, is now 
 a deep blue, it was muddy-looking this morning, 
 and the trees on the banks are a warm grayish-brown. 
 Beyond the American falls, above there, where it i^ 
 like a lake, the white houses are whiter still, the red 
 ones redder, and the country looks as if it had quite 
 changed its atmosphere. A great stage-manager, 
 Nature ! What wonders can be done with effective 
 lighting ! " 
 
 Then, turning away to go into the house, he said, 
 " Do you remember the lighting of the garden scene in 
 ' Romeo and Juliet/ the change from sunset to night, 
 from sunset to moonlight, from moonlight to morning, 
 and the motion of the sunlit trees, as if a zephyr had 
 touched them ? " 
 
 " I do, indeed ! " 
 
 " Well, let us talk of something else. Niagara must 
 offer to artist or poet a continual study. Did you 
 notice how the fir-trees on the little island close to the 
 Canadian falls are twisted and warped, as if they had 
 tried to turn away from the tempest, and had been 
 beaten down with the wind and snow ? You were 
 telling me one day about a scholarly hermit who had 
 spent his life at a lonely place on the Hudson. That 
 is also a curious story, the life and death of Francis 
 Abbott, ' the hermit of Niagara/ as they call him in 
 one of the old guide-books. He first appeared here, it 
 seems, on a summer day in 1839, a young man, tall, 
 well-built, but pale and haggard. He carried a bundle 
 of blankets, a portfolio, a book, and a flute ; went to a 
 little out-of-the-way inn and took a room ; visited the 
 
A Holiday at Niagara. 291 
 
 local library ; played his flute, and rambled about the 
 country; got permission to live in a deserted log-house 
 near the head of Goat Island ; lived there in a strange 
 seclusion during two winters, then built himself a 
 cabin at Point View, near the American falls, and did 
 not appear to shun his fellow-man so much as formerly. 
 A local judge became quite friendly with him; they 
 would meet and have long talks. Sometimes, too, he 
 would enter into conversation with the villagers, and 
 others whom he encountered on his rambles. He 
 talked well, they say ; spoke of Asia and Greece with 
 familiarity, and liked to discuss theological questions. 
 His religious views were akin to Quakerism. He was 
 a fine figure, had a sorrowful face, and was attended 
 by a dog, which trotted at his heels always. During 
 the summer he lived in his cabin at Point View; he 
 went down the ferry- steps and bathed in the river, 
 and, on June 10, 1841, he lost his life there, after 
 two years of this strange solitude. The body had been 
 in the water ten days before it was found at the outlet 
 of the river. The villagers brought it back and buried 
 it. They went to his cabin. His dog guarded the 
 door, a cat lay asleep on his rough sofa, books and 
 music scattered about. There was no writing to be 
 found, though the local judge said he wrote a great 
 deal, chiefly in Latin, and, as a rule, burned his work, 
 whatever it was. In later days friends and relatives of 
 the poor young fellow came to Niagara, and identified 
 him as the son of a Quaker gentleman of Plymouth. 
 Rather a sad story, eh ? " 
 
 " Yes, very, and there are others, less romantic, but 
 more tragic, in connection with the falls." 
 
 " None more sad, after all, than the death of poor 
 Webb. It is true, he deliberately risked his life. I 
 have seen it stated that the rapids where he dived are 
 by some persons estimated as only twenty or thirty 
 feet deep. Of course nothing can be more absurd. 
 The channel is only three hundred feet wide, and 
 through this gorge rush the waters of five great lakes. 
 
 u 2 
 
292 Impressions of America. 
 
 Calculating the volume of water, and the velocity of 
 it, the scientists who estimate the depth at two hun- 
 dred and fifty feet .are nearer the mark. The most 
 surprising thing to me about Niagara is the fact it 
 must be a fact that this mighty torrent, after falling 
 into the river, ploughs its way along the bottom, the 
 surface being comparatively calm, drives along for 
 two miles, and then leaps up from its imprisonment, as 
 it were, into the general view, a wild, fierce torrent, 
 with, further down, that awful whirlpool. Webb knew 
 the force of it all ; he had surveyed it, the cruellest 
 stretch of waters in the world, I suppose, and yet he 
 took that header, and went along with it hand-over- 
 hand, as the man told us, and with an easy confidence 
 that was heroic, one would have thought the water 
 would have beaten the life out of him before he had 
 time to rise and fight it ! " 
 
 " Not long since," I said, " there was a picnic party 
 on Goat Island. A young fellow, I think the father of 
 the child itself, picked up a little girl, and in fun held 
 it over the rapids above the falls. The child struggled 
 and fell ; he leaped in after it, caught it, struggled 
 gallantly in presence of the child's mother and the 
 distracted friends, but went over the falls. I read 
 the incident in a newspaper, and have it put away 
 at home with many other notes about the falls, 
 which I hoped to use in this book. Our critics will, 
 of course, recognize the difficulties attending the pre- 
 paration of these Impressions. We have worked at 
 them in odd places, and at curious times. One won- 
 ders how they will come out/' 
 
 " Oh, all right, I am sure ! " Irving replied ; " they 
 are quite unpretentious, and it is delightful to note 
 how they grow up and assume shape and form." 
 
 IV. 
 
 BUT nobody will ever know, except those who took 
 part in the work, how much ingenuity, patience, and 
 
A Holiday at Niagara. 293 
 
 enterprise were expended on that dinner. It was ready 
 to the minute. The guests all sat down together. 
 There were turkeys and there were chickens, too. 
 Horsemen had ridden hard half the night to bring them 
 in. There were plum-puddings, also. Lovely maidens 
 at Buffalo and Niagara had been pressed into the ser- 
 vice of stoning them. When Stoker, at midnight, in 
 order to smooth the way, had telegraphed that " rare 
 flowers and hot-house fruits can be dispensed with " 
 (he was thinking of New York, Boston, Chicago, and 
 Philadelphia), the landlady had looked at me in dismay. 
 " There isn't a flower in the whole neighbourhood ! 
 I'm afraid they are expecting too much/' she said. 
 " Not at all ; it is only Mr. Stoker's little joke," I re- 
 plied, fearing that at the last moment the entire business 
 might fall through. As the reader already under- 
 stands, it did not fall through ; but, on the contrary, 
 was a great and surprising success ; for, when Mr. 
 Howe got up to propose the health of the founder of 
 the feast, he said, " This has been the first English 
 dinner we have had since we left home, and, what is 
 more, we have eaten it off English plates, not those 
 little dishes and saucers they give us everywhere in 
 America. Not, ladies and gentlemen, that I have a 
 word to say against the American food not 1, be- 
 cause it is good and abundant; .but I do like large 
 plates, and I love to see the joints on the table and 
 carved before our eyes." Everybody laughed at this 
 and applauded ; but the cheering increased, and was 
 followed by "three times three" and the chorus, 
 " He's a jolly good fellow ! " when Howe thanked their 
 " host and chief, Mr. Irving, for his hospitality and 
 kindness that day, and for his energy and courage in 
 bringing them all from the old country on a tour in 
 the New World." 
 
 It was nearly six when we left Niagara for the rail- 
 way station, in every kind of vehicle, omnibus, buggy, 
 brougham, and carriage. Mr. Me Henry and a party 
 of ladies and gentlemen came to see us off. The mem- 
 
294 Impressions of America. 
 
 bers of the company were loud in their expressions of 
 wonder at the falls. " So strange/' said one, " to be 
 sitting down to dinner in view of them." " What a 
 day to remember ! " exclaimed another. Tyars, An- 
 drews, Terriss, Arnot, and some others, had donned 
 the water-proof dress, known to every visitor, and ex- 
 plored the regions below the falls. Terriss had a 
 narrow escape. There were special dangers to be en- 
 countered, owing to the accumulations of ice; and, at 
 the hands of a party of Englishmen, the dangers were 
 of course duly attacked. Terriss slipped upon an icy 
 descent, and saved himself from going headlong into 
 the torrent by clutching a jagged rock which severely 
 lacerated his right hand. He played with his arm in 
 a sling for several nights afterwards. 
 
 One of the saddest stories of the falls is the history 
 of a calamity that occurred almost at this very spot, in 
 the autumn of 1875. Miss Philpott, her two brothers, 
 a sister-in-law, and Miss Philpott's lover, Ethelbert 
 Parsons, went through the Cave of the Winds, and 
 climbed over the rocks towards the American falls. 
 They were residents of Niagara, and knew the ground. 
 The sheltered eddies in the lighter currents under the 
 falls are pleasant bathing-places. The Philpott party 
 took advantage of them. Miss Philpott was venture- 
 some. She bathed near one of the strongest currents. 
 Mr. Parsons, seeing her in danger, went to her rescue. 
 Seeking for a firm foothold for both of them, the girl 
 slipped and fell. Parsons sprang for her, and both 
 were carried into the current. He caught her around 
 the waist. The young lady could swim, and Parsons 
 was an expert ; they struck out for the rocks on the 
 other side of the current. The torrent carried them 
 out. By-and-by Parsons swam on his back, the girl 
 cleverly supporting herself with her hand upon his 
 shoulder. Then she suddenly pushed him away from 
 her, the inference being that she discovered the im- 
 possibility of both being saved, flung up her arms 
 and sank. Parsons turned and dived after her. They 
 
A Holiday at Niagara. 295 
 
 were seen no more until some days afterwards, when 
 the bodies were recovered at the whirlpool. 
 
 Terriss and his friends had more reason than they 
 quite realized to congratulate themselves upon the fact 
 that they were enabled to comply with the kindly and 
 considerate programme of the holiday, which arranged 
 that they should sleep that night in Toronto. 
 
296 Impressions of America. 
 
 XIX. 
 FROM TORONTO TO BOSTON. 
 
 Lake Ontario Canadian Pastimes Tobogganing On an Tee 
 Slide " Shooting Niagara and After " Toronto Students 
 Dressing for the Theatre " God save the Queen " Inci- 
 dents of Travel Locomotive Vagaries Stopping the Train 
 "Fined one hundred Dollars" The Hotels and the Poor 
 Tenement Houses The Stage and the Pulpit Actors, past 
 and present The Stage and the Bar-room The second 
 Yisit to Boston Enormous Eeceipts A Glance at the 
 Financial Eesults of the Tour. 
 
 THE blizzard was in full possession of Toronto, but 
 the air was dry, the sky blue and sunny. There was 
 a brief interval for a snow-storm. But it came in a 
 bright, frosty fashion. The footpaths were hard. 
 Sleighs dashed along the leading thoroughfares. Lake 
 Ontario was a vast plain, upon which disported skaters, 
 walkers., riders, drivers, and that most fairy-like of 
 " white-wings," the ice-boat. Did you ever fly across 
 the silvery ice on runners, with sails bending before 
 the wind ? It is an experience. You may spin along 
 at sixty miles an hour, or more. If you are not 
 wrapped to the eyes in fur, you may also freeze to 
 death. The sensation of wild, unchecked motion is in- 
 tensely exhilarating ; but, if you are a novice, want of 
 care or lack of grip may send you flying into space, or 
 scudding over the ice on your own account. A secure 
 seat is only obtained by accommodating yourself all 
 
From Toronto to Boston. 297 
 
 the time to the motion of your most frail, but elegant, 
 arrangement of timbers and skating-irons. 
 
 The leading characteristic winter sport of Canada is 
 Tobogganing. The word " toboggan " is Indian for 
 "sled." The French call it Traine sauvage. Two or 
 three light boards deftly fastened together, a mattress 
 laid upon them, a sort of hollow prow in front, into 
 which a lady thrusts her feet, that is a " toboggan." 
 It is like a toy canoe, or boat, with a flat bottom and no 
 sides. The lady passenger sits in front ; the gentleman 
 behind. He trails his legs upon the ice- slide, and thus 
 guides the machine. It is not necessary, of course, 
 that there should be two passengers ; nor, being two, 
 that one of them should be a lady. The contrivance 
 was invented by the North American Indians. They 
 used it for the transportation of burdens. The squaws 
 sometimes made it available for hauling along their 
 children. The pioneer troops of Courcelles, Tracy, 
 and Montcalm made a kit carriage of it. 
 
 There is a famous Tobogganing Club at Toronto. 
 It has a slide of half a mile in length, down the side 
 of a hill in a picturesque suburban valley. The slide 
 starts at an angle of about forty-five degrees ; then it 
 runs along a short flat; then it drops, as if going 
 over a frozen Niagara, to shoot out along a great 
 incline, that might be the frozen rapids. To stand at 
 the summit and watch the gay toboggans slip away, 
 and then disappear down the Niagara-like precipice, 
 to shoot out as a bolt from a gun along the remainder 
 of the pass, is to realize the possible terrors of a first 
 trip. 
 
 Miss Terry watched the wild-looking business with 
 amazement, and built up her courage on the experiences 
 of the ladies who took the flying leap with delight. 
 They were dressed in pretty flannel costumes, and their 
 faces glowed with healthful excitement. But they 
 were practised tobogganers. Some of them could not 
 remember when they took their first slide. A sturdy 
 officer of the club explained the simplicity of the sport 
 
298 Impressions of America. 
 
 to the famous actress, and offered to let her try half 
 the slide, beginning at the section below Niagara. 
 
 " I ought to have made my will first ; but you can 
 give my diamond ring to your wife," she exclaimed, 
 waving her hand to me, as she drew her cloak about 
 her shoulders and stepped into the frail-looking sled. 
 
 As she and her stalwart cavalier, in his Canadian 
 flannels, flew safely along the slide, her young English 
 friend and admirer followed. They had not been upon 
 the wintry scene ten minutes, in fact, before both of 
 them were to be seen skimming the mountain-slide at 
 the speed of the Flying Dutchman of the Midland 
 Railway, and at one point, much faster, I expect. 
 
 " Oh, it was awful wonderful magnificent!" 
 Miss Terry exclaimed, when she had mounted the hill 
 again, ready for a second flight. " I have never ex- 
 perienced anything so surprising, it is like flying; 
 for a moment you cannot breathe ! " 
 
 And away she went again, followed at respectful 
 distances, to avoid collision, by other excursionists, the 
 slide fairly flashing with the bright flannels and gay 
 head-dresses of the merry tobogganers. 
 
 " Yes," she said, on her return, " it is a splendid 
 pastime. The Canadians are quite right, it beats 
 skating, ice-boating, trotting, everything in the way 
 of locomotion; what matters the cold, with such 
 exercise as tobogganing ? " l 
 
 1 TOBOGGANING. Saturday, February 24th, was a gala day in 
 the annals of the Toronto Toboggan Club. The slide was in 
 perfect condition, glare ice from top to bottom. About eighty 
 members were out with their toboggans, enjoying the elide, the 
 only fault of which is that it is too fast for the length of run at 
 the bottom. The committee are, however, making arrangements 
 to overcome this defect. During the latter part of the afternoon 
 several members of Mr. Irving's company and friends were 
 present by invitation, escorted by Mr. Bram Stoker. Miss 
 Terry drove a young friend, Miss Helen H. Hatton (who is 
 visiting Toronto with her father), out to the grounds, and they 
 were both initiated into the Canadian winter sport. Miss 
 Terry was completely captivated by this entirely new sensation, 
 and only regretted that she was unable to enjoy it longer. 
 
From Toronto to Boston. 299 
 
 The Montreal Daily Star, during this Toronto week, 
 had a brief description of tobogganing, apropos of the 
 winter carnival that was being held in the neighbouring 
 city, during our too brief visit to Canada. A proper 
 slide is constructed on "scientific principles, and blends 
 a maximum of enjoyment with a minimum of danger/' 
 The Star nas a picture of the enjoyment and the 
 danger. It depicts an enormous mountain slide by 
 torchlight. Many sleds are coming down in fine, pic- 
 turesque style. There are wayside incidents of spills, 
 however, which suggest a good deal of possible dis- 
 comfort. " Try your luck on one of these sleds/' says 
 the descriptive text. " Take two or three girls with 
 you. That is indispensable; and there is a shrewd 
 suspicion that much of the popularity of tobogganing 
 comes from its almost essential admission of ladies. 
 Let them be well wrapped up. Take a firm seat on 
 the cushions, never stir an inch, and all will be right. 
 They may shut their eyes and utter their little shrieks; 
 but, at their peril, they must not move. You occupy 
 your station at the rear. The position is optional. 
 The general mode is to lie on the left side, propped on 
 one arm, with right leg extended; but some sit, others 
 kneel, and on short, easy inclines some venture to 
 stand. One invariable rule is to hold on to your girl ; 
 an occasional squeeze may be allowed; indeed, there 
 are critical moments when it cannot be helped. All is 
 ready; the signal is given, and the descent begins. 
 At first it is gradual, and one might fancy that he 
 could regulate it ; but, like a flash, the grand propul- 
 sion is given ; like an arrow's, the speed is instanta- 
 neous and resistless. A film passes before your eyes ; 
 your breath is caught. One moment you feel yourself 
 thrown into space ; the next you hear the welcome 
 crunch of the firm snow, and then comes the final 
 tumble, topsy-turvy, higgledy-piggledy, in the fleecy 
 
 She entered into it with the greatest zest. The ladies and 
 gentlemen of the club gave her a very hearty welcome. News- 
 paper Reports. 
 
300 Impressions of America. 
 
 bank at the foot. There is the crisis of the fun, and 
 you must take particular care of the girls just then. 
 The weary ascent next begins, to be followed by 
 another vertiginous descent, and still another, till the 
 whole afternoon, or the whole of the starry evening, 
 is spent in this exquisite amusement." 
 
 ii. 
 
 THE short season at Toronto was very successful in 
 every way. A great body of students filled tho 
 gallery of the Opera House every night. Stalls, boxes, 
 and dress circle were crowded, the audience being in 
 full evening dress. The house looked like a London 
 theatre on a first night. Boston and Philadelphia 
 were the only cities that had. shown anything like an 
 approach to uniformity in dressing for the theatre in 
 America, though New York made a good deal of dis- 
 play in regard to bonnets, costumes, and diamonds. 
 New York copies the French more than the English 
 in the matter of dressing for the theatre, consulting 
 convenience rather than style a very sensible plan. 
 
 On the Saturday night, after repeated calls and loud 
 requests for a speech, Irving, in his Louis XI. robes, 
 stepped down to the footlights, amidst thunders of 
 applause. 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen," he said, ' ' I regret that I 
 have to appear before you as somebody else, though I 
 feel quite incompetent in my own person to respond to 
 your kindness at all as I could wish, or in such a way 
 as to make you understand how keenly I feel the com- 
 pliment of your enthusiastic welcome. I thank you 
 with all my heart for myself and comrades, and more 
 especially for my co-worker, Miss Terry, for the right- 
 royal Canadian, I will say British, welcome you have 
 given us. I can only regret that the arrangements of 
 this present tour do not enable me to extend my 
 personal knowledge of Canada beyond Toronto." 
 
 "Come again!" shouted a voice from the gallery, 
 
From Toronto to Boston. 301 
 
 quite after the manner of the London gods ; " come 
 again, sir ! " 
 
 " Thank you very much/' Irving replied, amidst 
 shouts of laughter and applause. ' ' I will ace ept your 
 invitation. " 
 
 " Hurrah ! " shouted the gallery ; and the house 
 generally applauded Mr. Irving's prompt and gratify- 
 ing repartee. 
 
 " I would have liked," said Irving, pulling his Louis 
 XI. robes around him, " to have travelled right through 
 the Dominion, and have shaken hands with your 
 neighbours of Montreal, Quebec, and Ottawa. That, 
 however, is only a pleasure deferred. In the Indian 
 language, I am told, Toronto means ' The place of 
 meeting.' To you and me, ladies and gentlemen, 
 brother and sister subjects of the English throne " 
 
 A burst of applause compelled the speaker to pause 
 for some seconds. 
 
 " To us, ladies and gentlemen, to you before the 
 curtain, to us behind it, I hope Toronto may mean 
 ' The place of meeting again and again/ " 
 
 His last words of thanks were drowned in applause. 
 The students tried to recall him again, even after he 
 had spoken. The band struck up " God save the 
 Queen/' and a few minutes later the audience was on 
 its way home, and Irving was conducting a rehearsal 
 of scenes in " Much Ado," and ' ' The Merchant of 
 Venice/' rendered necessary by the illnesses which 
 are referred to in another chapter. 
 
 in. 
 
 Two hours after midnight we were once more on 
 the cars, bound for Boston. 2 
 
 2 Mr. Henry Irving, Miss Ellen Terry, and their company 
 left for Boston early in the morning, by special train, over the 
 ' West Shore route.' The train consisted of Mr. Irving's pri- 
 vate car, two Pullmans, and three baggage-cars. The Pull- 
 mans, two of those in ordinary use on the West Shore road, 
 
3<D2 Impressions of America. 
 
 " These long journeys/' said Irving, f( are most dis- 
 tressing. I wonder what sort of a trip this will be. 
 We ought to arrive at Boston on Sunday, at about 
 six, they say." 
 
 " The agent of the road," replied Mr. Falser, "tells 
 me he hopes to make good time. But I told him that 
 the only occasion when we have done a long journey 
 on time has been when we had no railroad agent to 
 take care of us. They are very good fellows, and 
 anxious to help us, but they have been unfortunate. 
 Our flat baggage-car is a trouble. You will remem- 
 ber that the Erie could not take it, and some of the 
 other companies consider it an extra risk. It affords 
 an excuse for not exceeding a certain speed. Besides 
 this, we have not had so much snow iu America for 
 over twenty years as this winter. Our trains have 
 been snowed up, and this has occasioned all sorts of 
 delays, as you know. But I hope we will get through 
 to Boston in good time." 
 
 We did not, " by a large majority," as Bardwell 
 Slote says. It was a tedious and unsatisfactory 
 journey. So soon as we left the West Shore line we 
 began to have trouble. It was on a short section of 
 an unimportant road that we encountered most delay, 
 the character of which will be best illustrated by a 
 brief conversation between Irving and several other 
 persons : 
 
 " Well, what is the matter now, George ? " Irving 
 asked the coloured conductor of the private car. 
 
 are simply magnificent in their internal arrangements, possess- 
 ing the latest improvements, and affording to the traveller the 
 greatest possible comfort. Among the innovations not found 
 in the ordinary ' sleepers ' are the racks on which clothes may 
 be deposited ; electric call-bells attached to each berth, com- 
 municating with the porter's berth ; a small kitchen, where 
 light refreshments may be prepared, and the whole structure 
 running on paper wheels, so that the rattle and jar of the ordi- 
 nary car is entirely abolished. The train was in charge of Mr. 
 G. J. Weeks, of Buffalo, northern passenger agent of the com- 
 pany, who accompanied the party to Boston." Toronto Mail. 
 
From Toronto to Boston. 303 
 
 " Oh, this is the third time he's stopped in the 
 woods to tinker np his darned old engine/' said 
 George ; " seems it needs it ! " 
 
 Everybody laughed at this rough criticism of the 
 engineer and his locomotive. 
 
 "Stops in the woods, eh?" says Irving, " that 
 nobody may see him ? But suppose another train 
 comes along ? " 
 
 " If the brakeman should neglect to go back and flag 
 it, there might be no performance at the Boston 
 Theatre on Monday," said Falser; "that is how Wag- 
 ner, the car-builder, lost his life. He was killed in one 
 of his own cars, on the New York Central. The train 
 stopped suddenly, it is said somebody on board 
 pulled the check-string in joke, 3 and an oncoming 
 
 3 During the journey from Boston to Baltimore an inquiring 
 member of Mr. Irving's company pulled the check-string, "just 
 to see what the thing was." There was great consternation on 
 board, neither guard nor driver knowing what had happened. 
 The inquiring gentleman offered a frank explanation, and the 
 train went on again ; but the monotony of the remainder of the 
 journey was relieved by a little practical joke at our friend's 
 expense. An official was introduced into the conspiracy, and 
 the delinquent was formally fined a hundred dollars. The rules 
 of the company and the law of the land were quoted against 
 him. Irving explained to him the enormity of his offence, and, 
 after a little outburst against the tyranny of American laws as 
 compared with those of England, the defendant paid twenty 
 dollars on account, and a subscription was started to raise the 
 remainder. " I am glad the affair occurred," said the offender, 
 an hour or two later, " if only for the pleasure it has given me 
 to find how well I stand with my colleagues ; it is quite touch- 
 ing the way they have stood by me in purse and in friendly 
 words." Alas for the sentiment of the thing! most of the 
 subscribers were in the secret. At Baltimore imaginary 
 despatches passed between Mr. Abbey and the railway 
 authorities, and the fine was withdrawn, the President, at New 
 
 York, being satisfied that there was no malice in Mr. 's 
 
 strange interference with the working of the train. The victim 
 thereupon wrote a letter of thanks to Mr. Abbey, had quite a 
 pathetic interview with Irving on the happy termination of the 
 contretemps, and insisted upon treating the chief subscribers to 
 champagne, over which he made so cordial and excellent a 
 
304 Impressions of America. 
 
 train, not being warned, ran into them, and Mr. 
 Wagner was killed/' 
 
 "Ah," Irving replied, " there must have been a 
 good deal of flag- signalling done on this journey of 
 ours, seeing how often we have stopped." 
 
 " Yes, that's so ; yah, yah ! " remarks the privileged 
 coloured servant. 
 
 " I don't think any of the tracks we have crossed are 
 as good as the Pennsylvania/' said Irving ; ' ' they are 
 certainly not as good as the Midland or Great Western 
 in England. The West Shore road is evidently a fine 
 one ; but I have more than once during our travels 
 been reminded of a story I came across recently, relating 
 to a passenger's question : ' We've struck a smoother 
 strip of road, have we not ? ' The Arkansas railway 
 conductor replied, ( No, we've only run off the track.' ' 
 
 " Yah ! yah ! " shouted George, as he disappeared 
 to tell the story to Peter in the kitchen. 
 
 " The newspaper that told the story added, as 
 American journals are apt to do, a line or two of its 
 own, to the effect that the Arkansas conductor's reply 
 was almost as uncomplimentary as that of an Eastern 
 conductor, who, upon being discharged, said, ( Well, I 
 was intending to quit anyway, for there is nothing left 
 of your old road but two streaks of iron rust and a 
 right of way.' " 
 
 IV. 
 
 DURING one of the very long delays in question Irving 
 and I talked of many things. 
 
 " You were speaking of the waste of food at hotels 
 and restaurants one day," Irving remarked. " I am 
 told that at some of the best houses in Chicago the 
 clean scraps that are left on dishes after each meal are 
 
 speech that everybody shook hands with him, and said he was 
 " a real good fellow," which is perfectly true, and a good actor 
 to boot. I would not have mentioned this incident but that the 
 opportunity of an appropriate foot-note overbears my self- 
 denial ; and, after all, it was a very harmless piece of fun. 
 
From Toronto to Boston. 305 
 
 collected and given to poor families every day. 
 Children with large baskets call for them. Another 
 class of scraps go to charitable institutions, more 
 particularly Roman Catholic establishments. These 
 are the leavings of the carvers' tables in the kitchens. 
 One is glad to know this, for I, too, have often been 
 struck with the abundance that is taken away un- 
 touched from tables where I have dined; though I 
 have seen nothing of the public breakfast and dining 
 rooms. It is quite a system in England, I believe, 
 the collection of food for the humbler ' homes } and 
 charities ; but one does not see in America any poor of 
 the abject, poverty-stricken class that is familiar at 
 home. Life to many must, nevertheless, be a bitter 
 struggle." 
 
 "There are many who are well off; thousands who 
 would be happier even in the most wretched districts 
 of Ireland. An Irish friend of mine, in New York, 
 said to me only the other day, ' The worst hut in Con- 
 nemara is a palace to some of the tenement-house 
 dens where my countrymen herd together in New 
 York/ 
 
 " They don't go West, I am told, as the Germans 
 and Swedes and Norwegians do. It is a little odd 
 that they do not take full advantage of the unrestricted 
 freedom of the West, and the gift of land which can 
 be obtained from the American government. Sixty 
 acres, is it not ? " 
 
 "Yes, that is the endowment America offers to 
 settlers in some of her finest territory ; and it is true 
 that, as a rule, the Irish do not become farmers on this 
 side of the Atlantic. They prefer city life, even with 
 its disabilities. When I was in America one hot 
 summer, two years ago, children of the poor, who live 
 in the common tenement-houses down-town in New 
 York, were dying of the heat at the rate of hundreds 
 a day. In her most crowded alleys London has no- 
 thing to compare with the lodging-houses in the poorer 
 districts of New York for squalor and misery. But 
 
 x 
 
306 Impressions of America. 
 
 human nature is alike all the world over ; more than 
 one rich man collects heavy rents from these death- 
 traps." 
 
 " Just as a few of our fellow-countrymen in London 
 supplement their rents by the contributions of infamous 
 tenants. I dare say some of these hypocrites make 
 speeches against the stage, and go ostentatiously to 
 church; otherwise they would be found out by their 
 associates. Eeligion is, indeed, a useful cloak for these 
 gentry. It is gratifying to find that in some American 
 cities, that are noted for their church discipline, the 
 preachers are not afraid to tell their flocks that, properly 
 used, the stage, as a moral teacher, is not unworthy of 
 alliance with the pulpit." 
 
 " Did Mr. Beecher talk about the morality of the 
 stage, or its relations to the public ? " 
 
 " No, but one of the writers for a Brooklyn journal 
 asked me some questions on the subject. I told him 
 that the world has found out that they live just like 
 other people, and that, as a rule, they are observant of 
 all that makes for the sweet sanctities of life, and they 
 are as readily recognized and welcomed in the social 
 circle as the members of any other profession. The 
 stage has literally lived down the rebuke and reproach 
 under which it formerly cowered, and actors and 
 actresses receive in society, as do the members of other 
 professions, exactly the treatment which is earned by 
 their personal conduct. He asked me about the 
 morality of attending the theatre, and I said I should 
 think the worst performances seen on any of our stages 
 cannot be so bad as drinking for a corresponding time 
 in what you call here a bar-room, and what we term a 
 gin-palace. The drinking is usually done in bad com- 
 pany, and is often accompanied by obscenity. Where 
 drink and low people come together these things must 
 be. The worst that can come of stage pandering to 
 the corrupt tastes of its basest patrons cannot be any- 
 thing like this, and, as a rule, the stage holds out long 
 against the invitation to pander ; and such invitations, 
 
From Toronto to Boston. 307 
 
 from the publicity and decorum that attend the whole 
 matter, are neither frequent nor eager. He informed 
 me that the clergy, as a rule, he used the term dis- 
 senting clergy, I suppose, as an explanation to me to 
 denote the class who are not Episcopalians, that I 
 might the better compare them with the ministers at 
 home, he told me that they are opposed to theatres. 
 He asked me what I felt about this. I told him I 
 thought that both here and in England the clerical 
 profession are becoming more liberal in their views. 
 Some people think they can live and bring up their 
 children in such a way as to avoid all temptation 
 of body and mind, and be saved nine-tenths of the 
 responsibility of self-control. But that seems to me to 
 be a foolish notion. You must be in the world, though 
 you need not be of it. The best way for the clergy to 
 make the theatre better is not to stay away from it, 
 and shun the people who play in it, but to bring public 
 opinion to bear upon it, to denounce what is bad and 
 to encourage what is good. When I was a boy I never 
 went to the theatre except to see a Shakespearian play, 
 and I endeavoured to make my theatrical experiences 
 not only a source of amusement, but of instruc- 
 tion." 
 
 v. 
 
 " IT was a glorious audience," said the Boston Daily 
 Globe, of February 26, "that welcomed Irving and 
 Terry back to Boston last evening. No better evidence 
 of the great popularity of the English artists could 
 have been given than that which was implied in the 
 presence of such an assemblage. The Boston was 
 thronged,. and the gathering represented the best class 
 of our play-goers, a company that accorded the stars 
 a cordial greeting both, and that was appreciative of 
 all the excellencies that marked the entertainment." 
 
 The theatre was crowded in all parts. " Louis XL" 
 and " The Belle's Stratagem " were played. ' ' Much 
 Ado " closed the engagement. It was received by the 
 
 x 2 
 
308 Impressions of America. 
 
 audience as if it were a revelation of stage work, and 
 criticized in the press in a similar spirit. At the end 
 of the play the audience summoned the leading actors 
 before the curtain over and over again. It was a scene 
 of the most unaffected excitement. At last there arose 
 cries of "A speech ! " "A speech ! " to which Irving 
 responded, visibly moved by the enthusiasm of his 
 Boston admirers and friends. He said, 
 
 " Gentlemen and Ladies, I have no words in which 
 to express my thanks for your kindness ; f only my 
 blood speaks to you in my veins/ A few weeks since 
 we came here, and you received us with unbounded 
 hospitality, and gave us a welcome that touched us 
 deeply, a true Boston welcome. (Applause.) We 
 come back, and you treat us not as strangers, but as 
 old friends. (Applause.) Again, I say, I can find no 
 words adequately to convey our thanks. I need not 
 tell you that this is to us a matter of the deepest grati- 
 tude and pleasure, for it is a proof that we have per- 
 haps realized some of your expectations, and have not 
 absolutely disappointed you. (Applause.) I say ' we/ 
 because I speak in behalf of all, not for myself alone, 
 but for my comrades, and especially for one who has, 
 I am sure, won golden opinions ; you know to whom I 
 allude (applause, and cries of " Yes ! " " Yes ! ") my 
 friend, and fellow-artist, Miss Ellen Terry. (Applause 
 and cheers.) When we have recrossed the Atlantic, 
 and are in our homes, we shall ever bear you in our 
 kindliest memories. I hope to be here again. (Ap- 
 plause, cheers, and shouts, " Come again ! " " That's 
 right ! ") Even before the present year closes I hope 
 to be with you. (Cheers.) Once more I thank you 
 with all my heart, and bid you good-night, only hoping 
 that your memories of us may be as agreeable as those 
 we shall cherish of you." (Applause and cheers.) 
 
 This second visit, it is agreed on all hands, brought 
 more money into the treasury of the Boston than had 
 ever before been taken during one week at that or any 
 other theatre in the city, namely, 24,087, and this 
 
From Toronto to Boston. 
 
 39 
 
 was the largest sum that had been received during any 
 previous week of the Irving engagement. 
 
 It will be interesting, at this period of the tour, to 
 glance at its financial results. The following figures 
 are taken from the cash book of Mr. J. H. Falser, the 
 business manager and treasurer, who supplied them to 
 the Boston Herald, and " vouched for their absolute 
 accuracy ": 
 
 N~ew York first week . 
 
 ttfew York second week 
 
 New York third week . 
 
 New York fourth week 
 
 Philadelphia first week 
 
 Philadelphia second week 
 
 Boston first week 
 
 Boston second week 
 
 Baltimore one week 
 
 Brooklyn one week 
 
 Chicago first week 
 
 Chicago second week 
 
 St. Louis one week 
 
 Cincinnati one week 
 
 Indianapolis (4 nights) and Columbus (2 nights) 
 
 Chicago (return) one week . . . 
 
 Detroit (2 nights) and Toronto (3 nights) 4 
 
 Boston (return) one week . 
 
 15,772 00 
 18,714 00 
 18,880 00 
 22,321 50 
 16,128 50 
 16,780 50 
 18,845 50 
 16,885 00 
 
 9,952 00 
 12,468 00 
 17,048 75 
 19,117 50 
 13,719 00 
 11,412 00 
 
 8,700 50 
 18,308 75 
 13,430 50 
 24,087 00 
 
 The total receipts in cities where Mr. Irving has 
 played more than one week were as follows : 
 
 New York four weeks . 
 Boston three weeks 
 Chicago three weeks . 
 Philadelphia two weeks 
 
 75,687 50 
 59,817 50 
 54,475 00 
 32,909 00 
 
 The total receipts of the tour, thus far, have been 
 $292,571. 
 
 One day's rest was taken at Niagara Falls. 
 
3 1 o Impressions of A merica . 
 
 XX. 
 
 WASHINGTON, NEW ENGLAND, AND SOME 
 "RETURN VISITS." 
 
 From Rail to River Once more on board the Maryland Re- 
 collections of President Arthur At the White House 
 Washington Society An apt Shakespearian Quotation- 
 Distinguished People " Hamlet " A Council of War 
 Making out the Route of a new Tour A Week in New 
 England Cities Brooklyn and Philadelphia Re-visited. 
 
 I. 
 
 WE left Boston at about two o'clock in the morning 
 of tlie 3rd of March, and after breakfast, at half-past 
 ten, some of us turn out to stretch our legs on the 
 railroad track by the side of the Harlem River. Once 
 more we are shunted on board the Maryland, that is 
 to convey us " down stream, to connect with the Penn- 
 sylvania Road." 
 
 At about eleven o'clock we are afloat. Presently 
 we pass Blackwell's Island. The pretty villas on the 
 opposite bank are in notable contrast with the hard, 
 prosaic buildings of the island. The morning is 
 grey and cold. The snow is falling lightly and is full 
 of crystals. Most of the company are on deck, which 
 stretches right over the snow-covered cars. Some are 
 promenading and enjoying the change from railway to 
 river travel. Others are breakfasting in the steamer's 
 spacious saloon. Howe and his wife ; Terriss (his hand 
 in a sling) ; Tyars (in his long Scotch ulster, which 
 was evidently new to the gamins of Philadelphia, where 
 
Washington, New England, &c. 3 i r 
 
 they said, as he passed, " Here's a dude ! ") ; Mrs. 
 Pauncefort, and others, are defying the sharp weather 
 at the bows of the vessel, which, with its freight, is a 
 continual surprise to them; Miss Millward, the pic- 
 turesque Jessica of " The Merchant/' is romping merrily 
 with the children of the company, who are quite a 
 feature in the garden, and church scenes of " Much 
 Ado." 
 
 We steal quietly along the river without noise, 
 but with a steady progression. Blackwell's Island 
 prisons are enlivened in colour by a little company of 
 women, who are being marched into the penitentiary. 
 They turn to look at the Maryland as they enter 
 the stony portals. As we creep along, villas on 
 our left give place to lumber-yards, with coasting- 
 vessels lying alongside. Leaving Blackwell's on the 
 right, the shore breaks up into picturesque wharfage, 
 backed, in the distance, by the first of the steeples of 
 Fifth Avenue. The eye follows them along ; wharves 
 and river-craft in front ; the spires against the grey sky, 
 until they are repeated, as it were, by forests of masts, 
 first a few, and then a cluster. We meet another 
 train coming up the river, then another; and now we 
 get glimpses, through the haze, of distant ferry-boats 
 ahead. There is a dull mist on the river, and here and 
 there it hangs about in clouds. We pass Long Island 
 railroad pier. It is very cold ; but the children of the 
 company still trot about ruddy and merry. 
 
 " You don't say so ! " exclaims somebody. ' { Is it 
 true, the train we saw at Harlem, which we thought full 
 of poor emigrants, was the Opera Company on their 
 way to Boston, the chorus ? " 
 
 " Quite true." 
 
 " Then I can now understand," is the rejoinder, 
 " that the passengers on board the Rome, when we came 
 out, thought us a most respectable crowd ? " 
 
 " That has been remarked before," says the buxom 
 Martha of "Louis XI.," " and in far more complimen- 
 tary terms." 
 
3 1 2 Impressions of A merica . 
 
 Presently, through the mist on the larboard side, we 
 catch a glimpse of the Brooklyn Bridge. A few 
 gulls are sweeping down the river before us. On 
 both banks there are wharves and ships. One of 
 the vessels flies the British flag, which is greeted 
 with a cheer from some of our people. On the 
 left bank of the river is a great sugar factory, with 
 a picturesque red-brick tower. We have now left the 
 Harlem river, and for some little time have been 
 steaming down the East towards the North River, 
 with Bedloe's Island a dot in the distant Sound 
 and Sandy Hook somewhere in the mist beyond. We 
 now pass Hunter's Point, and slue gradually round 
 towards the North River. We glide along beneath 
 the wonderful bridge, and look up among its net- 
 work of roads and rails ; past piers 50 and 51 on 
 our right, with freight- cars and steamers ready for 
 the river ; past the New York, New Haven, and Hart- 
 ford Railway quays, hugging the South Street Docks 
 and ship-repairing yards. Governor's Island at our 
 bow. Ships and steamers stretch along to Battery 
 Point, which we round into the North River, and pass 
 Castle Garden. It is here that we catch sight of 
 Bedloe's and other distant islands, and look far in the 
 direction of Sandy Hook, whence fierce tug-boats are 
 steaming along, with great barges in tow. Now we 
 cross the river to Jersey City. It is two o'clock. Our 
 cars are once more on the rails, and, at about nine 
 o'clock that night, we ran into Washington. 
 
 n. 
 
 ' ' You know the President," said Irving, while we were 
 travelling from Boston to Washington. 
 
 " Yes; 1 met him once or twice during the contest 
 when he was ultimately returned as Vice-President 
 with General Garfield. His likeness had become very 
 familiar to me before I saw him. Candidates for the 
 high offices of state are not only photographed, but 
 
Washington, New England \ &c. 313 
 
 their pictures are painted in heroic proportions. You 
 see them everywhere, on flags and banners, in shop- 
 windows, in the newspapers. But you will be in the 
 thick of it next autumn, since you have really decided 
 to return this year." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; but tell me about your meeting with the 
 President, what is he like ? " 
 
 " Tall and handsome ; frank and genial in manner 
 an excellent conversationalist; well read, a gentle- 
 man. I became acquainted with him on the eve of 
 his election to the Vice- Presidential chair. At his 
 installation hundreds of his personal friends and 
 admirers from eastern and western cities made f high 
 festival,' in his honour at Washington. Two years later 
 I saw him, with sorrowful face and head bowed down, 
 start for the capital, to stand by the bedside of the 
 dying President, with whom he had been elected. 
 Soon afterwards the friends, who had metaphorically 
 flung up their caps for him on the merry day of his 
 installation with Garfield, went, ' with solemn tread 
 and slow/ to assist at his inauguration into the chair 
 which, for a second time, the hand of the assassin had 
 rendered vacant. My recollection of Mr. Arthur pic- 
 tured a stout, ruddy-complexioned man, with dark hair 
 and whiskers, and a certain elasticity in his gait that 
 betokened strong physical health. I remember that 
 we sat together by the taffrail of a Sound steamer, 
 and talked of the vicissitudes of life and its uncer- 
 tainties, and that I was deeply moved with sympathy 
 for him in regard to the death of his most ac- 
 complished and amiable wife, of whom he spoke 
 (apropos of some remark that led up to his 
 bereavement) with a quivering lip and a moistened 
 eye. The day had been a very pleasant one ; 
 the bay of New York was sleeping in the sun ; 
 the air was balmy ; the time gracious in all respects ; 
 but, while doing his best to enliven the passing 
 hour, Arthur's thoughts had wandered to the 
 grave of his wife. She was a very accomplished 
 
3 1 4 Impressions of A merica . 
 
 woman, I am told ; musical, a sweet disposition, 
 refined and cultivated in her tastes. Friends of mine 
 who knew her say that she, above all others, would 
 have rejoiced in her husband's victory; and, while 
 inspiring him with fortitude under the calamity that 
 lay beyond, would have lent a grace to his reign at 
 the White House that alone was necessary to complete 
 the simple dignity of his administration, social and 
 otherwise, which will always be remembered at Wash- 
 ington in connection with the Presidentship of Chester 
 A. Arthur." 
 
 " I have letters to the President, which I shall 
 certainly take the first opportunity to deliver/' said 
 Irving. 
 
 When I met Mr. Arthur again in his own room, at 
 the Executive Mansion, I was struck with the change 
 which the anxieties and responsibilites of office, 
 entered upon under circumstances of the most painful 
 character, had wrought upon him. His face was care- 
 worn ; his hair white ; his manner subdued. He 
 stooped in his gait ; the old brightness had gone out 
 of his eyes, and there was what seemed to be a per- 
 manently saddened expression about the corners of 
 his mouth. He did not look sick ; there was nothing 
 in his face or figure denoting ill-health or physical 
 weakness ; but in the course of four years he appeared 
 to me to have aged twenty. I had not been in Wash- 
 ington a day before he sent for me and my family, 
 with a pleasant reference to the time when last we 
 met. Looking back over these four years, and con- 
 sidering its record of trouble and anxiety, I could 
 well have forgiven him if he had forgotten my very 
 existence. That he recalled the occasion of our 
 meeting, and was still touched with the spirit of it, I 
 mention to do him honour, not my self; though, had it 
 pleased Providence not to have afflicted me with a 
 never-ending sorrow, I could have felt a high sense of 
 personal pride in the home-like reception which the 
 President of the United States gave to me and my 
 
Washington, New England, &c. 315 
 
 family, in his own room at the Executive Mansion, 
 sitting down with us and chatting in a pleasant, un- 
 constrained, familiar way, that is characteristic of 
 American manners, and eminently becomes the chief 
 of a great republic. 
 
 Were this book only intended for English readers, I 
 would hesitate (even with the friendly approval of my 
 collaborator) about publishing these few sentences, so 
 personal to myself, lest it should be thought I might 
 be " airing my connections ;" but a President per se is 
 not held in such profound estimation or reverence in 
 America as in England, where we rank him with the 
 most powerful of reigning monarchs, and give him a 
 royal personality. Moreover, I should be ungrateful 
 did I not take the best possible opportunity to ac- 
 knowledge a conspicuous act of kindliness and grace 
 on the part of one who, since I last met him, had 
 stepped from the private station of mere citizenship to 
 the chief office of state over fifty millions of people, 
 wielding an individual power in their government that 
 belongs to no constitutional sovereign, nor to any 
 prince or minister in the most despotic courts or cabi- 
 nets of Europe. 
 
 in. 
 
 I can only say," remarked Irving, as we left 
 the White House together, after his first interview 
 with the President, " that, if his re-election depended 
 on my vote, he should have it. I know nothing about 
 the political situation ; but the man we have just left 
 has evidently several qualities that I should say fit 
 him for his office, foremost among them is patience. 
 I would also say that he has the virtue of self-denial, 
 and he is certainly not impulsive. A kind-hearted 
 man, I am sure, capable of the highest sentiment of 
 friendship, of a gentle disposition, and with great 
 repose of character." 
 
 "You have made quite a study of him/' I said; 
 
3 1 6 Imp ressions of A merica . 
 
 " and I am glad you like him, for I am sure he likes 
 
 you." 
 
 They had had a long chat at the White House. 
 Mr. Congressman Phelps accompanied Irving, and 
 introduced him to the Secretary of the Navy, and to 
 other ministers who came and went during the first 
 part of the informal reception. The President talked 
 of plays and general literature ; regretted that Wash- 
 ington, which had so many fine buildings, did not yet 
 possess a theatre worthy of the city. 
 
 " A beautiful city, Mr. President," said Irving. " I 
 had heard much of Washington, but am agreeably 
 surprised at its fine buildings, its handsome houses, its 
 splendid proportions ; and the plan of it seems to be 
 unique." 
 
 " The original design was the work of a French 
 engineer," said the President, " who served under 
 Washington. His idea, evidently, was that a republic 
 would have continually to contend with revolutions at 
 the capital. He, therefore, kept in view the military 
 exigencies of the government. The main streets of 
 the city radiate upon a centre that is occupied by the 
 legislative and executive buildings, like the spokes of 
 a wheel, so that they could be dominated by artillery. 
 This was the French idea of the dangers and duties of 
 that republican form of government, which has never 
 been contested here, nor is ever likely to be. While 
 but a village, Washington was laid out for a great city, 
 and, without any seeming prospect of the grand idea 
 being realized, the original lines have, nevertheless, 
 always been adhered to." 
 
 " And with glorious results," said Irving. " Wash- 
 ington is one of the most beautiful cities I have ever 
 seen. There is no reason why the highest architec- 
 tural ambition should not be realized in such broad 
 avenues and boulevards, and with such a site." 
 
 IV. 
 
 f ' MANY Americans underrate the beauty of Washing- 
 
Washington, New England, &c. 3 1 7 
 
 ton/' I said. " Comparatively few of them have seen 
 it, and hundreds who criticize it have not been south 
 for a number of years. The growth of Washington is 
 not only modern, it is of yesterday. The city was 
 really little more than a village up to the date of the 
 late war; and it was only in 1871 that the impetus 
 was given to the public enterprise that has covered 
 it with palaces, private and public. It is the only 
 city of America in which the streets are kept as 
 cleanly and as orderly as London and Paris. The 
 streets are asphalted, and you may drive over them 
 everywhere without inconvenience or obstruction. 
 There is an individuality about the houses that is one 
 of Washington's most notable architectural charac- 
 teristics." 
 
 " Yes," said Irving, " that is a great point. New 
 York is lacking in that respect, the reason being, I 
 suppose, its want of space. Some of the houses in 
 Washington suggest Bedford Park, Fitzjohn's Avenue, 
 and the street of artists' houses at Kensington. The 
 same may be said of portions of Chicago and Boston. 
 The so-called Queen Anne order of architecture is 
 very prevalent in Washington, take Pennsylvania 
 Avenue, for instance. On a fine summer's day it must 
 be a picture, with its trees in leaf and its gardens in 
 bloom/' 
 
 Irving went more than once to the White House, and 
 was greatly impressed with the dignified informality of 
 one of its evening receptions. 
 
 " No ceremonious pomp, no show, and yet an air of 
 conscious power," he said ; " the house might be the 
 modest country-seat of an English noble, or wealthy 
 commoner, the President the host, receiving his inti- 
 mate friends. No formal announcements ; presenta- 
 tions made just as if we were in a quiet country house. 
 Soon after supper, when the ladies took their leave, 
 and most of the gentlemen with them, I and one or 
 two others went into the President's room, and 
 chatted, I fear, until morning. It was to me very en- 
 
3 1 8 Impressions of America. 
 
 joyable. President Arthur would shine in any society. 
 He has a large acquaintance with the best literature, 
 dramatic and general, is apt at quotation, an excellent 
 story-teller, a gentleman, and a good fellow. When I 
 had said good-night, and was on my way to the hotel, 
 I could not help my own thoughts wandering back to 
 thoughts of Lincoln and Garfield, whose portraits I 
 had noticed in prominent positions on the walls of the 
 Executive Mansion. I remember Mr. Noah Brooks, 
 of New York, telling us the story of Lincoln's death, 
 and how he was to have been in the box with him at 
 the theatre that same night, and how vividly he re- 
 counted the chief incidents of the tragedy. And 
 Garfield, I can quite understand that terrible business 
 making his successor prematurely old, called as he was 
 into office under such painful circumstances, and with 
 so great a responsibility. A distinguished American 
 was telling me yesterday that only the wisest discretion 
 and personal self-denial in regard to the filling of offices 
 saved America from the possibilities of riot and 
 bloodshed. He said Arthur's singularly quiet admi- 
 nistration of affairs the one necessity of the time 
 would be taken into account at the polls, if he is 
 nominated for re-election/' 
 
 v. 
 
 WASHINGTON society made itself most agreeable to 
 both Irving and Miss Terry, though " Portia, on a 
 trip from the Venetian seas," to quote the New York 
 reporter, made her visit to the capital an opportunity 
 for rest. Electing this city for a holiday, being 
 relieved of a week's journey through New England, 
 she remained at the capital on a visit to her friend, 
 Miss Olive Seward, the adopted daughter of the 
 famous minister of Lincoln's administration. 
 
 Among the social entertainments given in Irving's 
 honour were two notable little suppers, one at the 
 Metropolitan Club, by Mr. H. J. Nelson, Secretary 
 
Washington, New England, &c. 3 1 9 
 
 to the Speaker, and a journalist of well- won renown. 
 There were present, the Speaker (the Hon. John G. 
 Carlisle), Senator Bayard, Representatives Dorsheimer 
 (ex- Lieut. Governor of the State of New York), T. 
 B. Eeed, Dr. George B. Loring (Commissioner of 
 Agriculture), and Messrs. John Davis (Assistant Se- 
 cretary of State), and F. E. Leupp. The other " even- 
 ing after the play" was spent at Mr. Dorsheimer's 
 house, in Connecticut Avenue, where the guests included 
 several distinguished judges, senators, and government 
 officials. The conversation on both occasions was 
 chiefly about plays. It was a great relief from law and 
 
 Eolitics, one of the learned judges said, to discuss 
 hakespeare and the stage. They all talked well upon 
 the drama ; some of them had known Forrest j others, 
 the elder Booth. Irving was more than usually talka- 
 tive in such congenial company. He related many 
 reminiscences of the English stage, none of which 
 interested his Washington friends more than his 
 anecdotes of Macready. Several instances of apt 
 Shakespearian quotations were given ; but they were 
 all capped by a story which Nelson told of Judge 
 Jeremiah S. Black, Mr. Buchanan's Attorney-General 
 and Secretary of State. Judge Black was holding 
 court at Chambersburgh, Pa., when he was on the 
 circuit in that State, forty years or more ago. His 
 manners were rough, but more from absent-mindedness 
 than any other cause, for he was one of the kindest of 
 men. He would . almost invariably find the strong 
 point in a cause that was on trial before him, and go on 
 thinking about it without reference to the point which 
 counsel might be considering ; so that his questions 
 often seemed impertinent to the bar. One of the 
 lawyers of Chambersburgh was a man of the name of 
 Chambers, a soft-spoken, mild-mannered kind of man. 
 Chambers suffered especially from what he supposed 
 was Black's intentional rudeness to him, and, one day, 
 he came to the conclusion that his burdens were 
 intolerable ; therefore he stopped in the midst -of his 
 
320 Impressions of America. 
 
 argument, and expostulated with the judge, telling 
 him that he always tried to treat the court deferentially, 
 but the judge did not reciprocate. The judge sat 
 smiling through Chambers's long reproof, and briefly 
 answered, 
 
 " Haply, for I am black, 
 
 And have not those soft parts of conversation 
 
 That chamber "ers have." 
 
 During the week Irving visited the capitol, and was 
 introduced to the highest officers of state. He heard 
 debates in both houses, visited the law courts, and re- 
 ceived many kindly attentions, public and private. 
 The theatre was crowded every night. On the first 
 night the President sat in the stalls, and the Russian 
 Ambassador contented himself with quite a back seat. 
 Mr. Bancroft, the white-haired historian, was a constant 
 attendant. Mr. Charles Nordhoff (whose graphic 
 stories are not sufficiently well known) was in the 
 stalls; so, also, were the authors of "Democracy/' 
 (It is rumoured that they are a society syndicate ; but 
 there is more authority in the statement that they are 
 two, and I could give their names. I forbear, for the 
 sake of the American lady who was pointed out to me 
 in London, last year, as the undoubted author of the 
 " scurrilous burlesque "). Mr. Elaine (one of the most 
 famous and learned of American statesmen^) was also 
 present, and he was one of the prominent men who 
 showed Irving much social attention. 1 A list of the 
 
 1 The President went last evening to witness the final per- 
 formance of Mr. Henry Irving and his company at the National 
 Theatre, in " Louis XI." and " The Belle's Stratagem." Mrs. 
 McElroy and Miss Nellie Arthur were with him in the box. 
 Subsequently he entertained at the White House, Mr. Irving, 
 the members of the President's cabinet and the ladies of their 
 families ; Mrs. McElroy and Miss McElroy, the sister and 
 niece of the President ; Colonel and Mrs. Bonaparte ; General 
 and Mrs. P. H. Sheridan, United States Army ; General E. F. 
 Beale ; Mr. and Mrs. Marcellus Bailey; Mr. Walker Blaine; 
 Mr. and Mrs. N. L. Anderson ; Lieut. T. B. M. Mason, United 
 States Navy, and Mrs. Mason ; Commissioner of Agriculture 
 
Washington, New England, &c. 321 
 
 distinguished people present would include a majority 
 of the great personages at Washington during the 
 season of 1884. All the plays were enthusiastically 
 received. 2 
 
 George B. Loring, Mrs. and Miss Loring ; Assistant Attorney- 
 General William A. Maury, Mrs. and Miss Maury ; Assistant 
 Secretary of State John Davis and Mrs. Davis ; John P. Jones, 
 United States Senate, and Mrs. Jones, Nevada ; Senator M. C. 
 Butler, South Carolina ; Senator Aldrich, Ehode Island ; Mr. 
 and Mrs. H. S. Sanford ; Mr. John Field ; Mr. F. J. Phillips, 
 secretary to the President ; Senator and Mrs. John F. Miller, 
 California ; Mr. and Mrs. Theodore Lyman, of Massachusetts 
 House of Representatives ; Mr. and Mrs. William Walter Phelps, 
 New Jersey House of Eepresentatives ; Mr. Clayton McMichael, 
 United States Marshal, and Mrs. McMichael; Mr. and Mrs. 
 Charles Nordhoff, New York Herald ; Mr. Stillson Hutchings, 
 Washington Post ; Mr. Albert Pulitzer, Nev) York Journal ; 
 Mr. and Mrs. Isaac Bell, of New York ; Mr. aud Mrs. Joseph 
 Hatton, of England. No actor was ever so entertained in 
 Washington as Mr. Irving has been. He attended a supper at 
 the Metropolitan Club on Wednesday evening; a breakfast 
 given by Mr. Bayard on Thursday ; gave a supper to Mr. Blaine 
 and a party of friends on Thursday evening, after the play ; 
 was the guest of Mr. William Walter Phelps on Friday morning; 
 attended a supper given to him by Mr. Dorsheimer on Friday 
 evening; and last night was the President's guest, as stated. 
 Miss Terry has received more social attentions here than in any 
 other American city. The Capital, March 9. 
 
 2 We thoroughly believe that the time will never come when 
 any actor can present a Hamlet that will be universally regarded 
 as a correct interpretation of the master poet's sublime creation. 
 Mr. Irving's impersonation was brilliantly bold in execution, 
 replete with new readings and stage business, and magnificent 
 bursts of feeling, arising from his changeableness of moods. 
 There does not seem to be a scene in the entire tragedy which 
 he has not touched with his own subtle and delicate refinement, 
 and rem'oved far above the conventionalities of other actors 
 whom we have seen. His first soliloquy, " Oh, that this too, too 
 solid flesh would melt ! " was rendered as though it were the 
 unconscious utterance of a thought. He displayed but little 
 interest in the return to earth of his father's spirit until he met 
 it face to face ; and then be surrounded himself with a solemn 
 supernaturalism, tinged with glow of superb filial affection. 
 This, in turn, seemed to give way to a sort of nervous terror, 
 and he became hysterical, which presented to the oath of secrecy 
 an added reverential awe. The first long interview between 
 
 Y 
 
322 Impressions of America. 
 
 Called on, as usual, to speak when the curtain had 
 gone down for the last time, after three recalls, Irving 
 thanked the audience for the kind reception and liberal 
 patronage which had been accorded himself and his 
 company. They had during the past few months 
 appeared in all the leading cities of the country, and 
 he felt that this cordial welcome in the beautiful capital 
 of the Union might fairly be regarded as the crowning 
 engagement of a most happy and prosperous tour. He 
 returned heartfelt thanks, not alone for himself, but for 
 his company, and especially for his fair comrade and 
 friend, Miss Ellen Terry, of whom he felt he could 
 heartily say : " She came, she saw, she conquered/' 
 He said farewell with the greater ease in the expec- 
 tation of having the privilege of again appearing in 
 Washington early in the coming season. Again re- 
 turning thanks, and saying good-bye, Mr. Irving 
 bowed himself off the stage amid very demonstrative 
 applause. 
 
 VI. 
 
 IT was quite like a council of war to see Irving, 
 Loveday, Falser, and Stoker, bending over a map of 
 the United States, during the journey from Washington 
 to New York, en route for several New England cities. 
 The chart was scanned with careful interest, Irving 
 passing his finger over it here and there, not with the 
 intensity of the overthrown monarch in " Charles the 
 First," but with a close scrutiny of routes. The chief 
 was sketching out his next tour in America. 
 
 " No more long journeys," he said. 
 
 " They are not necessary," Loveday replied. 
 
 Hamlet and Ophelia was played with splendid dramatic force 
 and fire. His simulation of passion, his deep longing for its 
 gratification, and his recklessness consequent upon his recollec- 
 tion of the stern duty to which he had devoted himself, 
 alternately flying from her, and then returning, was a part of 
 the performance which created a most profound impression 
 upon our mind. The National R&pubttcan, March 6. 
 
Washington, New England \ &c. 323 
 
 "No jumping from Brooklyn to Chicago, and from 
 Chicago to Boston. This sort of thing may have been 
 necessary by our relinquishment of the one-night 
 places set down for us in the original plan of the tour ; 
 but we'll reform that altogether/' 
 
 Then all the heads went down upon the chart; and 
 pencil-marks begin to appear, dotting out a route which 
 began at Quebec, and traversed, by easy stages, Canada 
 and the United States, from Quebec to Toronto, from 
 Toronto to New York, and thence to Chicago, and, by 
 easy calls, back again to the Empire city. 
 
 An hour or two later and the route was settled, 
 Falser remarking, ' { It is the most complete and easiest 
 tour that has ever been mapped out." 
 
 " And we will begin it in the autumn of this year. 
 We have sowed the seed ; we are entitled to reap the 
 harvest. All my American friends say so ; and the 
 great American play-going public would like me to do 
 so. I am sure of it. My pulses quickened at the great 
 cheer that went up at Boston when I said I hoped to 
 come back this year. Let us consider it settled. We 
 will come in September." 
 
 The map was folded up, and the work of organizing 
 the next tour was at once commenced. Telegraphic 
 " feelers," in regard to " dates," had already been sent 
 to the leading theatres. The best of them were ready 
 to accept for the time proposed ; and a week or so 
 later the business was settled. 
 
 Meanwhile we arrived at New York (the trees in 
 Washington and Union Squares, and Fifth Avenue were 
 crystal trees ; every house was coated with ice that 
 sparkled under the electric lamps), and the next day 
 " Louis XI." was given at New Haven. The week 
 was spent between this picturesque city and Worcester, 
 Springfield, Hartford, and Providence. Only " Louis 
 XI." and The Bells " were played, Miss Terry taking 
 a week's rest at Washington. The New England 
 audiences were as cordial at these cities as they had 
 been at Boston; the critics interpreted their senti- 
 
 Y 2 
 
324 Impressions of America. 
 
 ments. At Hartford, Mark Twain (S. L. Clemens) 
 entertained Irving under his hospitable roof, and at 
 Springfield there was a memorable gathering at the 
 Springfield Club, in fact, Irving was welcomed 
 everywhere with tokens of respect and esteem. One 
 regrets that these pages and the time of the patient 
 reader are not sufficiently elastic to allow of one de- 
 voting a volume to the New England cities, so interest- 
 ing as they are, historically and otherwise, from 
 American as well as English points of view. 
 
 VII. 
 
 FOLLOWING the New England cities come the last of 
 the return visits, Philadelphia, Brooklyn, 3 New York. 
 They reindorsed the previous successes, and fully justi- 
 fied the decision of a second visit next season. 
 
 3 Mr. Henry Irving and Miss Terry were tendered a reception 
 by the Hamilton Club yesterday afternoon. The quaint old 
 mansion in Clinton Street was filled between the hours of three 
 and five. The reception, which was informal, was held in the 
 library on the second floor, an inviting apartment papered in old 
 gold, with a frieze of olive-green with conventionalized flowers. 
 The walls are lined with mahogany bookcases filled with well- 
 bound books, largely historical. An oil painting of Alexander 
 Hamilton, in an old-fashioned frame, hangs in the west hall, 
 where it is lighted by the flickering gleams of the wood-fire in a 
 tiled fireplace opposite. An antique chandelier, with imitation 
 candles, completes the effect. At half-past three Mr. Irving 
 and Miss Terry were found in opposite corners of the room, 
 each surrounded by an animated group. Miss Terry, over 
 whom some of the younger ladies were mad with curiosity, 
 was completely hemmed in, and was given no opportunity to 
 move about, as Irving did. She sat during intervals in an 
 old arm-chair, covered with red plush. She wore an artistic 
 gown, with a Watteau plait. Her fair hair curled from be- 
 neath a round French hat, covered with brown velvet, and 
 with a dark feather. At her neck was an eccentric scarf of 
 orange-coloured satin. Prior to the reception, Mr. Irving and 
 Miss Terry lunched with Mr. Samuel McLean, president of 'the 
 club, at his residence, 47, Pierrepoint Street ; among his fourteen 
 guests being Mrs. Buckstone (his sister), Mr. and Mrs. Henry 
 Ward Beecher, and Mr. and Mrs. John Foord. Brooklyn Times, 
 and Brooklyn Union, March 30. 
 
Washington, New England, &c. 325 
 
 One of the most interesting incidents of the second 
 visit to Philadelphia was Irving's entertainment in 
 the new rooms of the " Clover Club." * Accustomed 
 
 4 When Henry Irving was here, in December last, the 
 " Clover Club " tendered him a breakfast, and at that time he 
 stated that when he returned to the city he hoped again to meet 
 his genial hosts. Last night he kept his promise. Upwards of 
 sixty gentlemen, members of the club, and friends whom he had 
 met elsewhere, were invited to take supper with him at the 
 Bellevue, after the performance at the Chestnut Street Opera 
 House, and the occasion was a most delightful one. The cele- 
 brated table of the club, in the shape of a four-leaved clover, was 
 spread in the banqueticg-hall. On it were two lofty forms of 
 flowers, in the midst of which rose two fountains, throwing up 
 crystal streams of water, which fell in spray over the blossoms. 
 There were also several little plots of growing clover, shaped in 
 the form of the quadrifoliate. The company did not assemble 
 until after the performance of " Much Ado About Nothing." It 
 was 11.30 when they were seated at the table, with Mr. Irving at 
 the head. Among the many present were Ex-Gov. Hoyt, Dion 
 Boucicault, Attorney- General Cassidy, Col. A. Loudon Snowden, 
 A. K. McClure, M. P. Handy, and J. H. Heverin. Mr. Joseph 
 Hatton and Mr. Montague Marks from New York. The oc- 
 casion was one long to be remembered. Mr. Irving, in proposing 
 the toast of the " Clover Club," thanked the members for their 
 hospitality, and Philadelphia for its welcome of him, and, with 
 characteristic modesty, spoke of his tour through the country, the 
 welcome which he had everywhere received, and the love of dra- 
 matic art which he found among the people. Mr. Handy replied 
 for the " Clover Club," with his customary felicitous eloquence, 
 and concluded by informing Mr. Irving of his election as an 
 honorary member of the club. While Mr. Irving was bowing his 
 thanks, Mr. Handy decorated him with the jewelled, badge of 
 membership. Dion Boucicault told how Mr. Irving, to his mind, 
 had banished the pedestal actor from the stage, and presented 
 Shakespeare as the dramatist himself would have wished to 
 see his works given. Mr. A. K. McClure pointed out how the 
 dramatic art had knit the Anglo-Saxon race in a close bond of 
 union. Mr. Howe, the " old man " of Mr. Irving's company, 
 gave some interesting reminiscences of how he, as a Quaker boy, 
 and dressed in a Quaker garb, applied to Edmund Kean to be 
 allowed to go on the stage. Mr. Terriss, the leading man, gave 
 a recitation. Dr. Bedloe offered a new version of Shakespeare's 
 " Seven Ages," and before the close Miss Terry was toasted in 
 a bumper of three times three. Seldom has such a merry party 
 sat down to supper, and the evening, when it is brought to mind, 
 
326 Impressions of America. 
 
 to play the host, the club found itself in a novel 
 position when it accepted that of guest. The occasion 
 was one not likely to be forgotten in the annals 
 of an institution which interprets the best and 
 highest social instincts of an eminently hospitable city. 
 The club-room was decorated with its characteristic 
 taste. 
 
 Mr. Dion Boucicault, in a brief address, spoke of 
 the beneficent 'change which Irving had wrought in 
 the methods of the English stage ; Mr. McClure, the 
 popular and powerful director of the Times, thanked 
 him, in the name of all lovers of art, for extending 
 that reformation to the American stage ; Col. Snow 
 depicted his high place in the history of the best civi- 
 lization of America ; and Irving, while accepting with 
 pride the honours which hnd been conferred upon him, 
 defended the great actors of America's past and pre- 
 sent from the criticism of several speakers, who com- 
 plained of their adherence to what Boucicault called 
 " the pedestal style " of acting Shakespeare. Irving 
 described to them how, in years gone by, both 
 England and America had possessed provincial schools 
 of acting, in the stock companies that had flourished 
 in such cities as Boston, New York, Philadelphia, 
 Chicago, and other cities on one side of the Atlantic, 
 and Bristol, Bath, Manchester, Birmingham, on the 
 other ; how these had been broken up by " combina- 
 tions " in travelling companies ; and how the leading 
 actors of America had thus been disabled from present- 
 ing the dramas of the great masters in a manner they 
 would, no doubt, have desired to present them. He 
 said he had found similar difficulties in his own 
 country ; but, actuated by the resolute purpose of a 
 sense of duty to his art, and a devoted love for it, he 
 had overcome them. For some eight or ten years he 
 had worked with a company, trained with the object 
 
 will never call up any but the most delightful recollections. 
 The Day, Baltimore, and The Call, Philadelphia, March 20, 
 1884. 
 
Washington, New England, &c. 327 
 
 of interpreting, to the best of their ability, the work of 
 the dramatist. They subordinated themselves to the 
 objects and intentions of the play they had to illustrate, 
 and only by such self-abnegations to the harmony of 
 the entire play, he said, could anything like an ap- 
 proach be made to the realization of a dramatic theme. 
 He disclaimed any such ambition as to be ranked 
 foremost among the great actors whose names had been 
 mentioned ; but he confessed to a feeling of intense 
 satisfaction that America should have accepted with a 
 generous, and he must say a remarkable, spontaneity, 
 the methods which he had inaugurated at the Lyceum 
 Theatre. 
 
 Among other " sight-seeing " and calls which we 
 made together in Philadelphia, was a visit to Mr. 
 Childs, at the Ledger office, and an hour or two spent 
 at Independence Hall. Irving was much interested 
 in the new private office of Mr. Childs. Decorated in 
 the so-called style of Queen Anne, it is a fine example 
 of the progress in art which America has made within 
 the past few years. It contains many precious remi- 
 niscences of the Centennial Exhibition. A screen in 
 front of the street windows is not the least artistic 
 feature of the apartment. It is formed by six square 
 pillars, with arched openings, which, save the centre, 
 are closed to the height of three feet from the floor, 
 the space between the back of these and the windows 
 forming a kind of recess, where have been gathered 
 some very valuable specimens of plastic and mechani- 
 cal art. Over the screen, or arcade, are ten painted 
 glass panels ; the centre one contains the portraits o2 
 Gruttenberg, Faust, and SchosfFer, inventors of the art 
 of printing with type ; the other four contain figures 
 representing the art of book-making. The left-hand 
 panel contains a sitting figure, intently engaged on an 
 article for the press, which, with two figures, a man 
 and a boy, the latter of singularly fine action, forms 
 the second panel. Passing over the centre, the story 
 is continued by the proof-reader, and concluded in the 
 
328 Impressions of America. 
 
 last panel, which represents a standing figure perusing 
 the finished book in the shape of a Bible, chained to a 
 lectern. The centre panel of five smaller panels, over 
 those just mentioned, exhibits Mr. Childs' motto, 
 " Nihil sine labors" and on the remaining four, in old 
 English, is painted the command, " Let there be light, 
 and there was light." 
 
 Mr. Childs is one of the best known and one of the 
 most popular journalists in the United States. His 
 name is familiar to the newspaper men of England, and 
 his offices are models, both as regards the mechanical 
 departments and the rooms set apart for his editorial 
 associates and writers. Mr. Cooke, the able and 
 trusted correspondent of the London Times, is the 
 financial editor of the Ledger. 
 
 The porter at Independence Hall was glad to get the 
 English actor's signature in the visitors' book. From 
 the moment that Irving entered the place he attracted 
 more attention than even the bell of liberty itself. 
 Long before American independence was even dreamed 
 of, this bell (originally cast at Whitechapel, London, 
 and afterwards recast in Philadelphia) bore the in- 
 scription, " Proclaim liberty throughout all the land, 
 to all the inhabitants thereof ! " Having taken in 
 the historic room which was formerly the Judicial 
 Hall of the English colony of Pennsylvania, Irving 
 . said, " How English it all is ; how typical of the revolt 
 the portraits of these great fellows who headed it ! " 
 Then he traced likeness to living Englishmen in several 
 of the pictures. 4f One hundred and thirty portraits, 
 nearly all of them by one artist ! " he exclaimed. 
 "He has done wonderfully, I think, to get such 
 variety of style, and yet so much individuality." In 
 modern days this chamber has been the scene of the 
 lying-in-state of several prominent statesmen, on the 
 way to burial. Among them were John Quincy 
 Adams, Henry Clay, and Abraham Lincoln. 
 
 American history proudly recalls that " here, on the 
 3rd of November, 1781, twenty-four British standards 
 
Washington, New England, &c. 329 
 
 and colours, taken from the army under Cornwallis, 
 which had surrendered at Yorktown, were laid at the 
 feet of Congress, amidst the shouts of the people and 
 volleys of musketry, for they had been escorted to the 
 door of the State House by the volunteer cavalry of 
 the city, and greeted by the huzzas of the people/' 
 " But let us not forget/' said an American speaker, 
 discoursing on this theme at an Irving entertainment, 
 ' ' that we were all British until we had signed that 
 Declaration of Independence ! " 
 
33 Impressions of America. 
 
 XXI. 
 "BY THE WAY." 
 
 " My Name is Mulldoon, I live in the Twenty -fourth Ward " 
 Protective Duties and the E^ine Arts "The General 
 Muster" A Message from Kansas City American Cab- 
 men Alarming Notices in Hotels The Chicago Fire 
 Service What a Fire Patrol can do in a few seconds 
 William Winter -" Office Rules "The Reform Club and 
 Politics Enterprising Reporters International Satire 
 How a Man of " Simple and Regular Habits " lives 
 Secretaries in Waiting The Bisbee Murders " Hunted 
 Down " Outside Civilization The Bazoo The Story of 
 a Failure A Texan Tragedy Shooting in a Theatre- 
 Evolutions of Towns. 
 
 I. 
 
 ' ' YES/' said Irving, " I, too, have made a few notes of 
 ' things to be remembered/ as we passed together some 
 of the last proofs of these chronicles and impressions. 
 For instance, here is a memorandum, ' Politics / and 
 it refers to General Horace Porter's anecdotical illus- 
 tration of ward politics, and to Mr. Millett's letter on 
 art and tariffs." 
 
 " Let us take the story first," I suggested. 
 
 We both remembered it ; so, likewise, will several 
 American friends of that excellent raconteur, Horace 
 Porter, one of New York's brightest post-prandial 
 orators. 
 
 Irving had been making inquiries about the city 
 government of New York, and remarking upon the 
 curious little wooden houses away up at the further 
 end of New York city. 
 
" By the Way." 331 
 
 " Oh/' said Porter, ' i those places belong to the last 
 of the Manhattan squatters. Most of them are occupied 
 by families, who, as a rule, pay little or no rent at all. 
 They are on the outskirts of progress. As the city ex- 
 tends into their district they disappear, seeking ' fresh 
 woods and pastures new/ Nevertheless some of them 
 become quite firmly established there. They are in- 
 cluded, for voting purposes, in the Twenty-fourth ward 
 of the city. The houses, as you have observed, are not 
 architecturally beautiful. All the inhabitants keep 
 fowls and animals in their basements or cellars. As a 
 rule nobody repairs or attends to their abodes. Occa- 
 sionally in wet weather they could bathe in their cellars. 
 Kecently one of the most important men in the district 
 was a Mr. Mulldoon, whose very practical views of city 
 politics will be gathered by the story I am going to 
 tell you, which also illustrates the local troubles from a 
 sanitary point of view. Mulldoon's premises were 
 flooded. He was advised to apply to the Commissioner 
 of Public Works on the subject, and to use his political 
 influence in the matter; and he did. Entering the 
 office of the commissioner, he said, 
 
 " ' My name is Mulldoon. I live in the Twenty- 
 fourth ward ; I conthrol forty votes there ; I kape hens ; 
 the wather has inundated my cellar, and I want it 
 pumped out at the public expinse/ 
 
 " ' We have no machinery to do that kind of work ; 
 it does not belong to our department/ said the officer. 
 
 " ' And be jabers if I don't get that wather removed 
 it will go hard wid the party. I'll cast thim forty votes 
 for a Dutchman/ 
 
 ' You had better go to the fire department/ 
 
 " ' Divil a bit ; it's the wather department Fin 
 afther/ 
 
 1 The fire department have appliances for pumping, 
 we have not ; I recommend you to see the fire depart- 
 ment/ 
 
 " He does so. 
 
 " Arrived at the proper officer's desk, he says, ' My 
 
33 2 Impressions of America. 
 
 name is Mulldoon ; I live in the Twenty-fourth ward ; 
 I conthrol forty votes there ; I kape hens ; the wather 
 has inundated my cellar, and I want it pumped out 
 at the public expihse/ 
 
 " ' The work does not belong to this department, 
 Mr. Mulldoon ; we put out fires, not water. I ' 
 
 " ' Indade/ said Mulldoon calmly ; ( thin let the 
 party look to it, for I'll rather cast thim forty votes for 
 a nigger than Tammany Hall shall get wan o' them/ 
 
 " f I was going to say, when you interrupted me, 
 that you had better see the mayor, and get an appro- 
 priation for the sum necessary to be expended, and 
 then you'll have the business done right away/ 
 
 ' ' ' An appropriation, is it ? Thank ye ! I've niver 
 gone ag'in' my party ; but I object to having my hens 
 drowned under my very roof/ 
 
 "Going straight for the mayor, he said, f Mr. 
 Mayor, sorr, my name is Mulldoon; I live in the 
 Twenty-fourth ward ; I conthrol forty votes there ; I 
 kape hens ; the wather has inundated my cellar, and 
 I want it pumped out at the public expinse/ 
 
 " ( I am sorry I cannot help you, Mr. Mulldoon ; 
 but' 
 
 ' ( ' Not help me ! ' exclaimed the chief of the little 
 caucus in the Twenty-fourth ward ; ( then, by my soul, 
 I'll cast them forty votes for a hathen Chinee ' 
 
 ' " If you had not interrupted me, I was going to 
 say that ' 
 
 " ( Oh, then, I beg your honour's pardon ; it is only 
 just my bare rights that I am saking/ 
 
 " ' If you go to the Board of Aldermen and get an 
 appropriation, and bring it to me, I will see that the 
 work you claim shall be done/ 
 
 " ' Very well, then, and thank your honour,' said 
 Mulldoon, who in due course^ presented himself before 
 the principal officer of the Board, an Irishman like 
 himself, and having considerable power. 
 
 " ' My name is Mulldoon ; I live in the Twenty- 
 fourth ward ; I conthrol forty votes there ; I kape 
 
 
" By the Way" 333 
 
 hens ; my cellar is inundated, and I want it pumped 
 out at the public expinse. The mayor's sent me to 
 you for an appropriation, and, by St. Patrick ! if you 
 refuse it, divil a wan o' them votes will ye ever get. 
 Fll cast them for a native American first ! ' 
 
 " ' I don't see how I can get you an appropriation, 
 Mr. Mulldoon.' 
 
 " f You don't ; well, then, the party may go to the 
 divil, and Tammany Hall wid it ! I'm ag'in' the lot o' 
 ye ! ' 
 
 " ' Don't lose your temper, Mr. Mulldoon, I'll see 
 what can be done for you ; but, in the meantime, will 
 you allow me to suggest that it would be less dan- 
 gerous for the party, considering the situation of your 
 residence, if, in the future, you would arrange to keep 
 ducks?'" 
 
 ii. 
 
 ( ' WE have not talked much about politics, eh ? And 
 a good thing, too ! One only got really well into the 
 atmosphere of political life at Washington ; and then, 
 after all, one heard more about literary copyright than 
 anything else. I find I have made a note of a letter I 
 read somewhere recently from an American painter, in 
 support of taxing importations of fine art, more parti- 
 cularly pictures. It seems to me this is a grave mis- 
 take. I had no idea that protection, as it is called, 
 existed so generally in America." 
 
 ' ' You have here," I said, ' ' the extreme of protective 
 duties, as we in England have the other extreme of an 
 unreciprocal free trade." 
 
 " I can understand a reasonable protective tariff for 
 a commercial industry ; but art should surely go free. 
 For a country that as yet possesses no great school of 
 painting nor sculpture of .her own, to obstruct, nay, 
 almost prohibit, the entry of foreign work, must be 
 to handicap her own rising genius. The examples of 
 the famous masters of Greece and Rome, of France, 
 and Holland, and England, are necessary for the 
 
334 Impressions of America. 
 
 American student, and free traffic in the works of great 
 modern artists would have an elevating tendency on 
 public taste." 
 
 " As a rule American artists are favourable to the 
 free importation of foreign pictures. They favour it 
 from your own stand-point, the educational point of 
 view/' I said. 
 
 " Moreover, I can quite imagine American artists 
 who are permitted all the privileges of the art schools 
 and galleries of Europe, and who sell their pictures 
 in the Old World without let or hindrance, being 
 annoyed at the inhospitality of their own country in 
 this respect," he replied ; " Boughton, Bierstadt, 
 Whistler, and other well-known American painters, for 
 example." 
 
 " And so they are, no doubt." 
 
 " As a matter of fact, public opinion in the United 
 States, if it could be tested, would, I imagine, be on 
 the side of admitting pictures, bric-a-brac, and books 
 without duty ; though the progress of what is called 
 the modern free- trade movement is likely rather to 
 retard than advance the interests of a free importation 
 of fine-art productions." 
 
 " In what way ? " he asked. " The leading idea of 
 a great reduction of tariffs is in the direction of 
 abolition for protective purposes, a tariff for revenue 
 only. In that case luxuries only would be heavily 
 taxed, and the so-called free-traders, who support this 
 view, would probably count in pictures and bric-a-brac 
 with luxuries." 
 
 "I should call them necessities," Irving replied; 
 " for the mind and the imagination require feeding just 
 as much as the body. Besides, how are the Americans 
 going to judge of the work of their own painters with- 
 out comparison, and current daily comparison too, 
 with foreign artists ? The stage is as much of a 
 luxury as paintings. Why let the English actor and 
 his artistic baggage and belongings come in ? It is a 
 pleasant thing to remember that, under all circumstances, 
 
" By the Way:' 335 
 
 whatever the troubles between the two countries, 
 America has always welcomed English players, and 
 that has given her some of the best theatrical families 
 she has, the Booths, Jeffersons, Wallacks, and 
 others. If the same enlightened policy in regard to 
 painting, pottery, and bric-a-brac had been carried out 
 in the matter of the stage, we should have seen just 
 as fine an art appreciation applied to pictures as to 
 plays and players. I am sure of it. If the musician 
 and his works, if the opera, had been handicapped as 
 art in other directions is, would America hold her high 
 place in respect of choral societies, orchestral bands ? 
 And would she enjoy, as she does, the grand operas 
 that are now produced in all her great cities ? No. 
 While, as you know, I claim no other credit for my 
 method of presenting Shakespeare and the legitimate 
 drama upon the stage than a performance of mana- 
 gerial duty, I am quite sure that had European stage 
 art and artists been hampered for twenty years by 
 restrictive taxes and other fiscal obstructions, the 
 Lyceum Company and work would not have been 
 welcomed as they have been, wherever we have pitched 
 our tent. The same freedom for paintings would have 
 made Watts, Millais, Tadema, Leighton, Pettie, 
 Leader, Cole, Long, not to mention the works of 
 earlier masters, as familiar here as at home, and would 
 have crowded American houses with examples, original 
 and copies, of the best schools of Europe. Would 
 not that have helped American painters ? Of course 
 it would." 
 
 in. 
 
 " YOUR work among New England cities," I said, on 
 his return visit to Brooklyn, " should impress upon 
 you the grim quaintness of the story Mr. Emery Storrs 
 told you concerning the annual festival called the 
 ' general muster.' ' 
 
 " Yes ; a queer story, was it not ? And, no doubt, 
 
336 Impressions of America. 
 
 characteristic of some of the more remote little 
 towns/' 
 
 This is the story : 
 
 The militia muster, once a year, is a celebration 
 peculiar more particularly to New England. It is 
 called the " general muster ." Each little town comes 
 in with its quota of militia ; the bands as numerous 
 as the troops. They make a holiday of it. One after- 
 noon an old couple on the hillside of the little town go 
 out to catch a glimpse of the festivities. They are old 
 and alone, managing to drag a mere subsistence out 
 of the sour soil. Their children have gone West, a 
 son here, a daughter there. They are content to spend 
 the winter of their days in the old, hard nest where 
 they have reared their young ; old folks, so old ! 
 parchment faces, bony hands. They totter to the 
 town, and rest on the way in the cemetery, or church- 
 yard, and look at the graves as such grizzly veterans 
 will. One of the militia fellows, going home, he had 
 got fuddled rather earlier than usual, sees them. 
 (( Halloo ! " he shouts. " Go right back, right back, 
 my friends ; this is not the general resurrection, it is the 
 general muster ! " 
 
 " By the way," said Irving, " did I tell you of the 
 amusing incident that occurred at Philadelphia ? It 
 was on the last night of the first visit. We were 
 playing 'The Belle's Stratagem/ You know how 
 difficult it is sometimes to keep the wings clear of 
 people, goodness knows who they are ! Well, my 
 way was continually blocked by a strange-looking 
 crowd. I remonstrated with them once, and they 
 moved ; but they were back again. The cue for my 
 entrance during the mad scene was at hand, as I said 
 to these fellows, ' Who are you ? What do you want ?' 
 * Bag-gage ! ' exclaimed two of them, both in a breath. 
 I did not know what the deuce baggage meant : 
 whether the reply was a piece of information or a 
 piece of impertinence ; so I thought I would astonish 
 them a little. Getting my cue on the instant, I stepped 
 
"By the Way'' 337 
 
 back a yard or two, and dashed in among them, 
 yelling my entrance line, f Bring me a pickled 
 elephant ! ' They scattered right and left, and fell 
 over each other; but before they had time to defend 
 themselves from what they evidently thought was a 
 furious attack I was on the stage/' 
 
 IV. 
 
 I HAVE referred to the " theatre parties " of ladies 
 and gentlemen who travelled many miles by railway to 
 be present at the Irving performances. Several invi- 
 tations to visit distant cities were also given, with 
 guarantees of financial profit. Among these the most 
 interesting and complimentary was a requisition from 
 Kansas City, which is worth printing. I append it, 
 with Irving' s reply : 
 
 " Warwick Club, Kansas City, Mo., Jan. 4th, 1884. 
 " ME. HENRY IRVING. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, We, the citizens of Kansas City, respectfully 
 request that you honour this city and the West with a profes- 
 sional visit before your return to London. We hold in pro- 
 found admiration your great histrionic ability and success in 
 the legitimate drama, and your reputation as the leading 
 representative of the English stage. 
 
 " We will endeavour to make the season both pleasant and 
 profitable to yourself and Miss Terry, the brilliant and accom- 
 plished tragedienne. On behalf of one hundred members of 
 the Warwick Club, 
 
 " Yours respectfully, 
 
 " T. C. TRTJEBLOOD, President. 
 
 " F. E. HOLLAND, Secretary. 
 
 Alden J. Buthen, Kansas City Journal; Morrison Mumford, 
 Kansas City Times ; George W. Warder, John Taylor, Smith 
 & Eieger, Holman & French, Kobert Keith, Cady & Olmstead, 
 D. Austin, George H. Conover, M. H. Shepard, W. B. Wright, 
 John H. Worth, Woolf Bros., C. J. Waples, John Cutt, John 
 Walmsley, John Sorg, J. Y. C. Kames, Jos. Cahn, H. 1ST. Eps, 
 Milton Moore, E. 0. Boggers, Gardiner Lathrop, B. E. Conklin, 
 W. E. Nelson, Homer Eeed, Albert C. Hasty, L. E. Irwin, 
 the Irwin & Eaton Ckg. Co., Meyer Bros. Drug Co., Charles 
 L. Dobson, Fred Howard, James Scammon, A. Holland, H. T. 
 
 Z 
 
338 Impressions of America. 
 
 Wright, Jun., 1ST. W. McLain, W. B. Grimes and W. B. Grimes 
 Dry Goods Co., Charles S. Wheeler & F. H. Underwood, 
 Merchants' National Bank, A. W. Atmour, W. H. Winants, 
 Henry J. Lotshaw, Web. Withers, W. A. M. Vaughan, B. O. 
 Christakker, F. B. Nopinger, John W. Moore, W. H. Miller, 
 Charles E. Hasbrook, H. H. Craige, Levi Hammersleigh, B. E. 
 Bacon, Morse Bros. & Co." 
 
 " MY DEAR SIR, Your invitation, on behalf of one hundred 
 members of the Warwick Club, is one of the most gratifying 
 incidents of a very pleasant tour. I cannot sufficiently thank 
 you for the compliment it conveys to myself, to my sister in 
 art, Miss Terry, and to my entire company. We shall all of 
 us treasure it as a delightful memory of the West, and, for my 
 own part, I shall never be content nntil I can respond to it as 
 I wish. 1 hope the day is not far distant when I may be able 
 to visit you and your interesting city. I regret, however, that, 
 so far as the present tour is concerned, Mr. Abbey finds it 
 impossible to change our programme so as to make it fit your 
 most kind and hospitable invitation. 
 
 " With sincere thanks and good wishes, in which Miss Terry 
 joins, 
 
 "lam, 
 
 " St. Louis, January 7th. HENRY IRVING." 
 
 V. 
 
 " ONE thing I notice about the American cabmen 
 and drivers generally/' said Irving ; ' ' they do not chaff 
 each other as the London men in the same positions do. 
 They don't appear to be cheerful ; don't discuss among 
 themselves the news of the day ; they treat each other 
 as if they were strangers. English people, as a rule, 
 complain of the cab fares here ; but they forget, on the 
 other hand, to say that the cabs, or coupes, as they 
 call them, are beautifully appointed vehicles ; private 
 broughams, in fact. The only inconvenience is, that 
 unless you make a bargain with a driver beforehand, he 
 may charge you, it seems, what he likes. Against 
 that, again, is this set-off: you can order your cab at 
 your hotel, or your club, and have ifc charged in your 
 bill, and in that case there is no extortion. Each 
 leading hotel and club has telephonic communication 
 with livery stables ; and what a comfort that is ! Then 
 
" By the Way" 339 
 
 the messenger system, one almost wonders how we 
 do without it in London. If London can give New 
 York ' points' in some things, New York can certainly 
 return the compliment." 
 
 Asked by a Boston journalist " how he considered he 
 had been treated by his American critics/' Irving said 
 " I am exceedingly gratified by the intelligent and fair 
 manner in which I have been treated by the press 
 wherever I have gone. The Boston critics have been 
 just and generous to me. Of course I read what the 
 press has to say of my work, and, while I think it is 
 not the proper province of an actor to criticize his 
 critics, I will say generally that I have been pleased to 
 note in how very few instances I have had to encounter 
 on this side of the Atlantic anything in the nature of 
 personal or petty feeling. I have been struck, too, by 
 the power, vigour, and critical acumen which your 
 leading papers., both here and elsewhere, have displayed 
 in passing judgment upon my work and that of my 
 company. I have a feeling that an actor should be 
 content with what he gets, and that it is his duty to 
 accept patiently any reproach, and to profit by it if he 
 can. After all, criticism, if unjust, never harms a 
 man ; because any final appeal is always to the public, 
 and, if any wrong is done, their ultimate judgment 
 invariably corrects it." 
 
 VI. 
 
 THE Southern Hotel, at St. Louis, displayed promi- 
 nently engraven upon a tablet, near the principal stair- 
 case, the dates when it had been burned down and 
 rebuilt. The Tremont, at Chicago, recorded on its 
 handsome new building the fact that it had been de- 
 stroyed by fire, Oct. 27, 1839; July 9, 1849; and Oct. 
 9,1871. " Having dwelt upon these dates with a 
 little misgiving," said a member of Mr. Irving' s com- 
 pany, " some of us felt almost alarmed when, on closing 
 our bedroom doors, a card headed ' Fire ! ' printed in, 
 
 z 2 
 
3 40 Impressions of A merica . 
 
 red ink, attracted our attention. I have asked per- 
 mission to carry one o them away with me, thinking 
 you would like to have it." The notice is as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 "FIRE! FIRE! FIRE! 
 
 "There have been placed in the halls of the Tre- 
 mont House GONGS, which will be rung by electricity, 
 as an 
 
 " ALARM IN CASE OF FIRE. 
 
 ( They are under control of the office, and will be set 
 going INSTANTLY, on the slightest alarm, and continue 
 to ring. 
 
 ' ' This ringing, with the system of calling each room 
 by watchmen stationed on the floors, will insure the 
 speediest alarm to guests it is possible to give in case 
 of accident. 
 
 " On being awakened, guests and employes will pro- 
 tect themselves, each other, and property, to the 
 greatest possible extent. 
 
 " There are four BED LANTERNS in each hall, at the 
 corners, showing the stairways, and at the end of 
 every corridor outside the building there are IRON 
 LADDER FIRE-ESCAPES to the ground. 
 
 " Passage along the halls and corridors, if dark and 
 filled with smoke, can be made by crawling close to 
 the floor with the face covered, to prevent the inhala- 
 tion of smoke and consequent suffocation. 
 
 (f From the roof and the three stories below it there 
 is access from the service stairs to the tops of the 
 adjoining buildings, making a way of escape over 
 the roofs, from Dearborn to State Street, a full 
 block. 
 
 "JOHN A. RICE & CO." 
 
 The fire service at Chicago is, no doubt, the finest 
 and most complete organization in the world. Situated 
 
" By the Way:' 341 
 
 as the city is, on a vast plain, with prairie winds and 
 lake winds that sweep the entire country for hundreds 
 of miles without obstruction, the fire department has to 
 consider, not only the question of extinguishing a con- 
 flagration, but protecting the property adjacent to a fire 
 from ignition, in regard to which it has a series of wise 
 precautionary measures. In former days Chicago, like 
 many other American cities, was largely built of wood, 
 and there are still outlying districts of timber houses. 
 There are also enormous lumber-yards in Chicago, 
 which are a source of danger during fires that rage 
 when a high wind is blowing. Not long since Capt. 
 Shaw gave an exhibition to a royal party in London, 
 demonstrating how quickly the engines and fire- escapes 
 can be signalled and despatched to a fire. So far as I 
 remember the time was about fifteen minutes. In 
 Chicago they take less than as many seconds to com- 
 plete a similar operation. The system of fire-alarms in 
 all American cities is superior to ours, and the arrange- 
 ments for starting engines to the rescue insure far 
 more expedition. We have a less number of fires in 
 England, many conflagrations taking place in America 
 through carelessness in connection with the furnaces 
 that are used for heating the houses ; then shingle roofs 
 are not uncommon in America; and in England the 
 party-walls that separate houses are, as a rule, thicker 
 and higher. This was the explanation which the 
 American consul gave me at Birmingham, England, 
 recently, for the fact that during a whole year in Bir- 
 mingham (with a population equal to Chicago) every 
 fire that had occurred had been extinguished with a 
 hand-engine and hose; it had not been necessary in a 
 single case to use the steam-engines. In Chicago and 
 other cities the electric signal announcing a fire at the 
 same time releases the horses that are tethered close 
 to the engines, alarms the reclining (sometimes sleep- 
 ing) firemen in their bunks above, withdraws the bolts 
 of trap- doors in the floor ; and by the time the horses 
 are in the shafts and harnessed the men drop from 
 
34 2 Impressions of America. 
 
 their bunks upon the engine. From a calm interior, 
 occupied by an engine with its fire banked up, and 
 one attendant officer, to a scene of bustle and ex- 
 citement with an engine, fully equipped, dashing out 
 into the street, is a transformation sufficiently theatrical 
 in its effect to make the fortune of an Adelphi drama. 
 I once engaged to time the operation with a stop- 
 watch, and before I was fairly ready to count the 
 seconds the engine was in the street and away. These 
 exhibitions of skill, speed, and mechanical contrivance, 
 can be seen every day at the quarters of the Fire In- 
 surance Patrol. Chief Bulwinkle is one of the most 
 obliging of officers, and many a famous English name 
 has been inscribed in his visitors' book. 1 
 
 1 " The head-quarters of the Fire Insurance Patrol are eighty- 
 five feet wide and one hundred feet long. The first floor or 
 room is sixteen feet eight inches high, with black walnut and 
 maple wainscoting. In the front of the room there are two 
 pairs of stairs, one each side. Under these are the horses' stalls. 
 Between the stairs and stalls is the patrol-waggon, the pole of 
 which is ten feet from the front doors, which open out in a ves- 
 tibule by electricity, and are held by weights. On the right of 
 the room, as you enter, are all the telegraphic instruments con- 
 nected with the patrol, with no wires visible ; a raised panelled 
 black-walnut wall, consisting of the Electric Mercurial Fire- 
 Alar m, which is connected with seventy different business build- 
 ings, concealing the wires. This is a system which gives the 
 alarm automatically, giving the exact location of the fire in any 
 building. Over this annunciator is a large clock. On panels, 
 on the right and left of the above, are two gongs, one giving the 
 fire-alarms from the city, the other connected with the Mercurial 
 Fire-alarm Annunciator. Under one gong there are three smalll 
 gongs, one connecting directly with the Western Union Tele- 
 graph Office, one with Marshal Field & Co.'s retail store, and the 
 other with the City Fire Department. In another panel are the 
 American District Telegraph connections. In the ceiling over 
 the waggon is a large reflecting gas-light, which shines directly 
 over the horses when hitching. Just in the rear of the reflector 
 are three raps, that work automatically when an alarm is re- 
 ceived, opening the floor on the second story, and ceiling of 
 the first, to enable the driver and assistants to have easy 
 access to their seats; two other members, who sleep on the 
 second floor, make use of the same means of ready exit. 
 
" By the Way." 343 
 
 VII. 
 
 " Do you remember the poetic speech, in verse and 
 prose, that William Winter 2 made at the banquet in 
 Lafayette Place ? " I asked. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," Irving replied. " The two stanzas 
 with which he introduced it were singularly musical, 
 I thought." 
 
 " Here they are. I wanted him to write out the 
 
 The same telegraphic instrument sets in motion appliances 
 which take off the bed-clothing from ten beds on the second 
 floor, and four berths on the first, relieving the men from all 
 incumbrances in an instant. On the second floor is the dor- 
 mitory for the men, which is carpeted with English body 
 Brussels. There are heavy black-walnut bedsteads, with 
 F.I.P. carved in head-board, inlaid with gold. The front 
 part of this room is partitioned off and used as Captain 
 Bui winkle's room, which is carpeted with Wilton carpet, 
 bordered with white, papered and frescoed on all sides in 
 handsome style. Conspicuous here are white marble man- 
 tels and grates. On a table in the centre of this room is an 
 album, with autographs of noted people from all parts of 
 the world who have been visitors, and left their names as 
 a testimonial of the excellent qualities of this department. 
 The time required by this patrol to get out of bed, dress, 
 hitch the horses, and get out of the building, is four and one- 
 half seconds." Stranger's Guide to the Garden City. 
 
 * William Winter is probably best known in America and 
 England as the accomplished a,nd scholarly critic of the New 
 York Tribune. As an authority on the drama he holds in New 
 York a similar position to that which the late John Oxenford 
 held on the Times. While there are other prof essional critics in 
 the Empire city who write admirably, and with the authority of 
 knowledge and experience about the stage, William Winter is the 
 only one among them who has made for himself a prominent 
 name apart from the paper with which he is associated. There 
 is no other critic sufficiently well known to be entitled to have 
 his name mentioned in news' cables or telegrams aside from 
 the journal which engages his pen. Wm ter has broken 
 through the anonymous character of his journalistic work as 
 successfully as Oxenford and Sala. He is the author of several 
 volumes of lyrics ; he is the biographer of the Jeffersons ; 
 and since Washington Irving nothing more charming has 
 been written about " the old country " than his " Trip to 
 England." 
 
344 Impressions of America. 
 
 heads of his speech for me ; but he had only written 
 down his verses, and here they are, as dainty as they 
 are fraternal." 
 
 If we could win from Shakespeare's river 
 
 The music of its murmuring flow, 
 With all the wild-bird notes that quiver 
 
 Where Avon's scarlet meadows glow ; 
 If we could twine with joy at meeting 
 
 Their prayers who lately grieved to part, 
 Ah, then, indeed, our song of greeting 
 
 Might find an echo in his heart ! 
 
 n. 
 
 But since we cannot in our singing 
 
 That music and those prayers entwine, 
 At least, we'll set our blue-bells ringing, 
 
 And he shall hear our whispering pine ; 
 And there shall breathe a welcome royal, 
 
 In accents tender, sweet, and kind, 
 From lips as fond and hearts as loyal 
 
 As any that he left behind. 
 
 Among the curious notices, serious and humorous, 
 which were posted in the offices and dressing-rooms 
 of the various theatres, the following satirical regula- 
 tions are somewhat incongruous when considered with 
 the handsome furniture which generally belongs to 
 managerial rooms in America : 
 
 "OFFICE EULES. 
 
 " 1 . Gentlemen entering this office will please leave 
 the door open. 
 
 (t 2. Those having no business should remain as 
 long as possible, take a chair and lean against the 
 wall, it will prevent it falling upon us. 
 
 " 3. Gentlemen are requested to smoke, particularly 
 during office hours. Tobacco and cigars will be 
 furnished. 
 
"By the Way'' 345 
 
 " 4. Spit on the floor, the spittoons are merely for 
 ornament. 
 
 " 5. Talk loud or whistle, particularly when we are 
 engaged ; if this does not have the desired effect, SING. 
 
 " 6. Put your feet on the table, or lean against the 
 desk ; it will be a great benefit to those who are 
 using it. 
 
 " 7. Persons having no business with this office will 
 please call again when they can't stay so long. 1 " 
 
 VIII. 
 
 "WiLL you please tell me about the report cabled 
 from London to the American press, that you propose 
 to stand for Parliament in the Liberal interest, on 
 your return to England ? " asked a journalistic inter- 
 viewer, at Boston. 
 
 "I can only say that the report is entirely un- 
 founded. It arose, I imagine, from my election to the 
 Eeform Club. You know they do occasionally elect 
 out-of-the-way fellows, such as I am, in the matter of 
 politics. The welcome news reached me last night in 
 my dressing-room at the theatre. To be elected in 
 my absence adds to the pleasure of the thing. I have 
 only that interest in politics which all honest men 
 should have, but it exists only under my own roof. I 
 do not think artists should mix up in politics. Art 
 is my vocation, and I confine myself to it." 
 
 " Then I assume you have never cherished political 
 aspirations ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, never ! In fact, I should be totally unfit 
 for Parliament. I am not eloquent, and should be un- 
 fit in other ways. We do not look upon politics in 
 England as you do here. Here political life is an 
 avenue to office and to emoluments, in a broader and 
 deeper sense than is possible in England, and many 
 choose the law as a profession, with a view to politics. 
 Do they not ? It is not so with us. A seat in the 
 
346 Impressions of America. 
 
 House of Commons, as a rule, involves great expense, 
 as well as a claim upon a man's time ; and he may sit 
 there all his life, if he is returned often enough, and 
 spend every year a large income, socially, in London, 
 and locally, on charities, hospitals, reading-rooms, 
 churches and chapels, among his constituents. We 
 do not pay our representatives salaries; and I believe, 
 particularly in the country, the constituencies watch 
 with the greatest jealousy every vote a member 
 records. The House of Commons is not a bed of 
 roses." 
 
 I have said, in a previous chapter, that the trouble 
 in respect to the new form of journalism in some of the 
 cities of the United States is, that the reader is left 
 too much in doubt as to the truth of the daily 
 chronicles. The Chicago reporter, who held up the 
 "interviews" of other journals as more or less 
 " bogus," would himself have found it difficult in this 
 respect to winnow the chaff from the wheat. At St. 
 Louis a reporter professed to have taken an engage- 
 ment as a "super-" in the Irving Company. He 
 wrote a description of "behind the scenes" in that 
 capacity, but " gave himself away " by making all 
 the company, from the leading actor down to the 
 call-boy, drop their " h's." The American reporter's 
 leading idea when burlesquing the English is to take 
 every "h" out of a Britisher's conversation, and 
 even to make the Queen herself drop the aspirate or 
 misuse it ; for instance, here is a summary of the royal 
 speech on the opening of Parliament, which appeared 
 in a Philadelphia journal : " We're pretty well, I thank 
 you, and we 'opes to remain so, we does." If in 
 our stage and journalistic satire we make Jonathan 
 " guess," " calkalate," and " lick all creation, you 
 bet," he "gets even" with "yahs, deah boy," and 
 " 'ow har' you," and ' ' 'pon my honor, don't cher 
 know ? " But, referring back to the many imaginary 
 interviews and fictitious sketches of Irving and his 
 life behind the scenes, here is an extract from an 
 
" By the Way" 347 
 
 account of " Irving's day," which appeared in one of 
 the light-headed dailies, that is, in some respects, truer 
 than I dare say any of its readers believed it to be. 
 The introduction of " the secretaries " is worthy of 
 Punch, and in its earnestness funnier than some of the 
 great humorist's sketches of the Irving tour in Ame- 
 rica. Here are the leading points of the article : 
 
 THE METHODICAL WAY IN WHICH IRVING PASSES HIS TIME. 
 
 Henry Irving is a man of simple, but regular, habits. He 
 has gained the hearts of everybody in the Bellevue, from the 
 proprietor to the bell-boy, by his courteous demeanour and his 
 desire to give as little trouble as possible. He rises at nine 
 o'clock, and drinks a cup of coffee with milk. Breakfast is 
 served in his private sitting-room at ten o'clock, consisting 
 of tea, boiled eggs, and some other simple dish. The eggs 
 he cooks himself in a little spirit-lamp arrangement of his 
 own. He eats the meal alone, and glances at his mail while at 
 table. The budget of correspondence is usually large, and. in- 
 cludes letters from all over the world. After breakfast one or 
 two secretaries pay their respects to him, and receive his in- 
 structions in regard to the replies to the missives. The daily 
 papers are then carefully read, and any visitors who call are 
 received. 
 
 Between twelve and one he leaves the hotel, generally in a 
 carriage, and always accompanied by a secretary. The theatre 
 is the first destination. In everything concerning the stage 
 arrangements, indeed, even the most minute details, Mr. 
 Irving is consulted. A skye-terrier is also a persistent 
 companion of the English actor, and follows wherever he 
 goes. 
 
 Mr. Irving dines at 3.30. A course dinner is served, 
 oysters, soup, fish, a cutlet, and a bird. Canvas-back duck has 
 a preference among the feathery food. He dines by himself, 
 does his own carving, and dismisses the servants as soon as the 
 dishes are placed in front of him. From the dinner hour until 
 he goes to the theatre he is denied to everybody. No matter 
 whose card arrives for him, there is no passport for the paste- 
 board through the portals of the actor's apartments. The 
 interval after dinner is passed in study and meditation. Mr. 
 Irving is, above all, a student, and every gesture and motion 
 he makes on the stage have been previously considered, and a 
 reason found for the change of position or features. 
 
 After the theatre Mr. Irving throws off the restraint of the 
 day, and sups at his ease with some of his friends. A secretary 
 
3 4 8 Impressions of A merica . 
 
 or two are included in the party. Supper lasts sometimes 
 until two or three in the morning. Last Sunday, when 
 Attorney- General Brewster was Mr. Irving's guest, it was 
 3 a.m. before the party exchanged adieux. 
 
 Among the visitors who have called on Mr. Irving, Yiscount 
 Bury, James McHenry, and G-eneral Collis, were among the 
 favoured ones who were admitted to audience. Scores of invi- 
 tations for every kind of entertainment have overwhelmed him, 
 keeping three or four of his secretaries busy with writing his 
 expression of regrets. 
 
 When Irving was at Philadelphia he had a young 
 English friend visiting him. The waiter (who was 
 evidently in the confidence of the local reporter, or 
 might have been the reporter himself masquerading as 
 a waiter) pressed him in as a secretary. Abbey's 
 manager, Mr. Falser, Mr. Stoker, Mr. Loveday, and 
 another friend, a resident of Philadelphia, were 
 all promoted to the secretarial office. There is a 
 sublime touch of unconscious satire in this staff of 
 secretaries, engaged upon the work of answering 
 Irving's letters, which will be particularly appreciated 
 in London, where that one special sin of his neglect- 
 ing to answer letters is even commented upon in 
 learned reviews. The after-dinner " study and medi- 
 tations " is " Jeames's " view of the siesta, which is a 
 needful incident of every actor's day. The data of 
 the sketch being fairly correct, the bona fides of it, 
 from the reporter's point of view, makes it interesting 
 as well as characteristic of the " personal " character 
 of some of the clever news journals of the day. 
 
 IX. 
 
 ONE day, during " this interval after dinner, " which is 
 { ' passed in study and meditation/' Irving said, 
 " Have you followed out all the story of the Bisbee 
 murderers ? " 
 
 " Yes/' I said. " It is one of those strange cases 
 of lawlessness, that I have taken out of the news- 
 
"By the Way." 349 
 
 papers for my scrap-book. Charles Eeade 3 would 
 have been interested in it. Have you ever seen his 
 scrap-books ? " 
 
 " No/' said Irving ; "are they very remarkable ? " 
 
 " Yes, and in my slovenly attempts to save news- 
 paper cuttings I often think of him. I once spent a 
 whole day with him, looking over his journalistic ex- 
 tracts, and he was lamenting all the time the trouble 
 involved in their arrangement and indexing. He sub- 
 scribed to many odd, out-of-the-way newspapers for his 
 collections. If he had ever visited America he would 
 have been tempted to make a very formidable addition 
 to his list. 
 
 " Do you know the beginning of the Bisbee busi- 
 ness ? I have only seen the account of the hunting 
 down of one of the murderers, which has interested me 
 tremendously. Have you seen any accounts of the 
 capture ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Well, then, curiously enough I have received a 
 San Francisco Chronicle, with the entire story of it, 
 and I believe it is worth putting into the book. Can 
 you tell me the nature of this crime ? " 
 
 " Yes. One day several strangers arrived suddenly 
 in the little town of Bisbee, on the outskirts of Western 
 civilization. They went into the principal store, shot 
 down the owner of it, fired at anybody they saw in the 
 street, killed a woman who was passing the store, and, 
 having generally, as it were, bombarded the little town, 
 left as mysteriously as they came. That is briefly the 
 story, as it was repeated to me a week ago by Dr. Gil- 
 
 3 Among the cablegrams that cast English shadows upon 
 the tonr was the announcement of Charles Beade's death. This 
 had already been preceded by obituary notices of Blanchard 
 Jerrold. It was followed, at a later date, by the chronicle 
 that Henry J. Byron had also "joined the majority." The 
 sudden death of the Duke of Albany was chronicled by the 
 leading American newspapers, with touching sentiments of 
 sympathy for the Queen of England. 
 
350 Impressions of America. 
 
 man, of Chicago, who has recently returned from the 
 scene of the tragedy, and other mining camps and 
 towns, about which he entertained me with a dozen 
 almost equally startling stories/ 7 
 
 " Well," said Irving, "the hunt after these Bisbee 
 ruffians is about as dramatic an episode of police work 
 as I ever came across. A reward being offered for the 
 chief of the gang who raided Bisbee, it was soon dis- 
 covered that ' Big Dan/ a notorious ruffian, was the 
 criminal. The entire business was after his most ap- 
 proved method, and it was finally proved, beyond 
 doubt, that this was the latest of ' Big Dan Dowd's ' 
 crimes. On the 6th of January, Deputy Sheriff 
 Daniels brought him in custody into Tombstone, and 
 this is the story of the capture : 
 
 "'On December 23rd, Daniels learned in Bisbee 
 from some Mexicans just in from Sonora, that two men 
 answering the description of ' Big Dan ' and Billy De- 
 laney, were in Bavispe, Sonora. This place will be 
 remembered as the point from which Crook started on 
 his trip into the defiles of the Sierra Madre, and lies on 
 the western slope of that range. Satisfying himself 
 that the information furnished by the Mexicans was 
 correct, Daniels communicated with the sheriff's office, 
 and, after making all necessary arrangements, started, 
 on the morning of December 26, for that place. Ac- 
 companying the officer was a Mexican named Lucero, 
 on whom Daniels knew he could rely as a guide and a 
 fighter. On the morning of the 30th, after a ride of 
 about 200 miles, Daniels and his two companions (he 
 having picked up another Mexican at Frontera) reached 
 Bavispe. Here it was learned that Delaney and Dowd 
 had separated five days previously, Dowd remaining in 
 Bavispe, which point he had left that morning, about 
 an hour prior to the arrival of Daniels and his posse. 
 Additional inquiries elicted the information that Dowd 
 had struck across the Sierra Madre for Janos, in the 
 State of Chihuahua, distant about seventy-five miles. 
 After taking a short rest, and perfecting plans for the 
 
" By the Way:' 351 
 
 capture of Delaney, tlie officer started in pursuit of the 
 other bandit. 
 
 " ' The route of travel led through the defiles of the 
 Sierra Madre, by rocks and precipitous trails, and it 
 was not until the morning of January 1st that Daniels 
 reached Janos, where he learned, as at Bavispe, that 
 the bird had flown, having left Janos a few hours ahead 
 of him for Coralitos, distant about twenty-seven miles. 
 Procuring fresh horses, the posse started at once for 
 Coralitos, which place was reached about eight o'clock 
 that evening. The town is in the centre of a mining 
 country, and is composed principally of Mexicans, 
 there being but half a dozen Americans in the place. 
 The whole neighbourhood, as described by Daniels, 
 seems to belong to the Coralitos Mining Company, of 
 which Ad Menzenberger is superintendent. Daniels 
 went at once to him, and communicating the object of 
 his visit, learned that ' Big Dan ' had arrived a short 
 time previously, and was then in what was known as 
 the house of the Americans. The superintendent, 
 having learned the character of Dowd, was only too 
 willing to assist in his capture, and, under the cover of 
 darkness, he and Daniels proceeded to the house. 
 Prior to reaching it, it was agreed that the superinten- 
 dent should enter in advance of Daniels, in order to 
 prevent any interference by the Americans who were 
 in his employ, in the capture of Dowd. 
 
 " ' As agreed, the superintendent entered the room 
 first, with Daniels at his heels. Dowd was sitting on a 
 table facing the fire, and the rest of the party were 
 scattered about the room. On the table was standing 
 also a bottle of whisky, which had not been uncorked. 
 Everything indicated that Dowd had no idea of the 
 presence of an officer, and was preparing for a jolly 
 night with his companions. He did not even look 
 around when the men entered the room, and his first 
 knowledge that he was in the clutches of the law was 
 when Menzenberger, who had reached his side, caught 
 hold of his arms, and, throwing them above his head, 
 
3 5 2 Impressions of A merica. 
 
 said, ' Throw up your hands/ Daniels, at the same 
 time, with a cocked pistol in each hand, made the de- 
 mand to surrender. A word from the superintendent 
 to the Americans present showed Dowd, who was un- 
 armed at the time, that he was powerless to escape, 
 and he quietly submitted to being manacled. Daniels 
 remained until the following morning, when he was 
 furnished with an ambulance and escort by the superin- 
 tendent, and driven to San Jose station, on the line of 
 the Mexican Central Railroad, 110 miles distant, and 
 about ninety miles south of El Paso del Norte. Here 
 he telegraphed to Sheriff Ward of the capture, and, 
 putting his prisoner on board the train, started for 
 home. Upon nearing Paso del Norte, he feared that 
 Dowd might raise a question of extradition, and put 
 him to much trouble ; so he made arrangements with 
 the railroad officials, and, together with his prisoner, 
 was locked in the express car until reaching the 
 American line/ ' 
 
 Irving recited most of the Chronicle's narrative. 
 The close, terse particulars of its details leave suffi- 
 cient colour of surroundings to the imagination of the 
 reader. 
 
 x. 
 
 " TOMBSTONE/' he said presently, " is a curious name 
 for a town." 
 
 "Some friends of mine," 'I said, "have business 
 interests there. It got its name in this way : a party 
 of young pioneers decided to go there on a prospecting 
 expedition. They were ridiculed, and told by another 
 party, who had refused to join them, that all they 
 would find would be a tomb. The adventurers, how- 
 ever, discovered mineral treasures of enormous extent, 
 started a town, and, as a derisive answer to their pro- 
 phetic friend, called it Tombstone. This is the story 
 of only a few years. Tombstone is now a prosperous 
 community, and has a daily paper. What do you think 
 its title is ? " 
 
"By the Way." 353 
 
 f( I cannot guess." 
 
 "Eugene Field, a journalist whose name is well 
 known throughout the West, gave me a copy of it 
 only yesterday/ 7 
 
 I went to my room and brought down a well-printed, 
 four-page paper, entitled The Tombstone Epitaph. 
 
 "And not a funny paper at all," said Irving, exa- 
 mining it ; "a regular business-like paper, newsy and 
 prosaic, except for the short literary story and the 
 poem that begin its pages/ 7 
 
 "Mr. Field gave me some remarkable newspaper 
 trophies of these mining towns, that may be said to 
 grow up outside the pale of civilization, to be eventually 
 incorporated into the world of law and order. Here 
 for instance, is a placard issued by The Bazoo, a news- 
 paper published at the little town of Sedalia : 
 
 BAZOO NEWS TRAIN ! 
 
 to 
 
 NEVADA, MO., 
 FRIDAY, DECEMBER 28TH, 1883. 
 
 BILL FOX'S PUBLIC EXECUTION 
 For the murder of Tom Howard, at Nevada, Mo., May 20, 1883. 
 
 The Sedalia Bazoo has chartered a special train, which will 
 run to Nevada from Joplin on that day. Leaving Joplin at 
 8.10 o'clock a.m., and returning in thirty minutes after the 
 death-scene at the gallows. 
 
 Lea 
 An' 
 
 TIME-TABLE. 
 ve Joplin V 
 Webb City . 
 Edwin 
 Carthage 
 Carey 
 
 8.10a.m. 
 
 Rates of Fare for 
 Round Trip. 
 
 . $200 
 
 . 8.25 
 . 8.43 
 . 8.53 
 . 9.05 
 
 . 1.75 
 . 1.50 
 145 
 
 1 25 
 
 Jasper 
 , Carleton 
 , Lamar 
 , Irwin 
 , Sheldon 
 , Milo 
 ive Nevada 
 
 . 9.15 
 . 9.27 
 . 9.40 
 . 9.57 
 . 10.07 
 . 10.35 
 10.20. 
 
 . 1.10 
 . . .95 
 75 
 60 
 .50 
 25 
 
 
 Tickets for Sale at the Depot, .gfi 
 
 A a 
 
354 Impressions of America. 
 
 Beturning, the train will leave Nevada thirty minutes after 
 the execution, giving plenty of time for all to get to the train. 
 Tickets sold for this train will not be good on any other but the 
 Bazoo News Train, this day only. 
 
 THE BAZOO! 
 Is a Daily and Weekly newspaper published at 
 
 SEDALIA, MO., 
 For the People now on Earth. 
 
 TEEMS. 
 
 Daily, per Annum $10.00 
 
 Sunday, 2.50 
 
 Weekly, 1.00 
 
 <g* Subscriptions will be received on the Train by a Soli- 
 citor. 
 
 The Sedalia Morning Bazoo of December 29 will contain a 
 picture of FOX, who is to be executed, with a full history of his 
 crime, his trial, and the last words of the dying man on the 
 gallows. 
 
 Secure a copy of the news-agent on the train, or of your 
 news-dealer for FIVE CENTS. 
 
 And here is the free pass (printed on a mourning 
 card) which accompanied the announcement that was 
 sent to Mr. Field in his journalistic capacity : 
 
 THE BAZOO NEWS TEAIN, 
 !s |5* On the occasion of the 
 
 PUBLIC EXECUTION OF BILL Fox. 
 '1 Pass Miss Eugenia Field, 
 
 J> Acc't of Boss Bog, 
 
 rg g To NEVADA AND RETURN, 
 
 Dec. 28, 1883. 
 
 J. WEST GOODWIN. 
 
 " Bill Fox, I understood, was a noted criminal, and 
 
"By the Way." 355 
 
 everybody was glad to have him hanged out of the 
 
 way." 
 
 XI. 
 
 " IT is a lesson in the evolution of towns, these inci- 
 dents of the pushing out of the frontiers of a great 
 country," said Irving. " I dare say Denver began its 
 career as a mining-camp." 
 
 " It did ; and only a few years ago/' 
 
 " And now they tell me it is a beautiful and well- 
 ordered city, with the finest opera-house in all 
 America." 
 
 " That is so ; and one day you ought to play there." 
 
 " I hope I may ; I would like it very much. By the 
 way, your bill about The Bazoo excursion reminds 
 me of two curious placards which the manager of 
 Haverly's gave me. They tell the story of the fate of 
 a new play that was once produced at his theatre. It 
 was called ' Hix's Fix/ and was a terrible failure. 
 The theatre had been engaged for a short season for 
 f Hix's Fix/ and the proprietors of it were at their 
 wits' ends to know what to do. They were not pre- 
 pared to play any other piece ; so they hit upon the 
 expedient of ( pushing the failure/ They printed half 
 a million handbills, and circulated them diligently. 
 This is one of them j it reads as follows : 
 
 HAVEELY'S THEATEE. 
 
 In obedience to the Unanimous Opinion of the Daily Press 
 
 MESTAYEB, & BARTON 
 Seriously think of Changing the name of their Play, 
 
 HIX'S FIX, TO EOT. 
 In sober truth, this is about the right thing, 
 
 Igor BUT 
 
 It is the funniest rot you have ever seen, and stands pre- 
 eminent and alone the 
 
 WORST PLAY OF THE AGE. 
 A a 2 
 
356 Impressions of America. 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS: 
 
 Hix's Fix is bad enough, but think of the poor audience. 
 
 News. 
 
 All that is not idiotic is vile. Tribune. 
 
 The piece is sheer nonsense, to speak mildly. Times. 
 
 The most painful dramatic infliction we have suffered this 
 season. Evening News. 
 
 EVERYBODY'S JUDGMENT WANTED. 
 
 TURN OUT AND JOIN THE MOURNERS. 
 
 Every Night this Week and Wednesday and Saturday 
 Matinees. 
 
 "Under the influence of this extraordinary an- 
 nouncement, the business improved, stimulated by 
 which cheering result the managers issued a new 
 proclamation, to this effect : 
 
 HAVERLY'S THEATRE. 
 
 Every Night this Week and usual Matinees. 
 
 HIX'S FIX 
 Is unquestionably the worst Play ever produced. 
 
 It is so much worse that no one should miss it ! 
 THIS IS CONFIDENTIAL (?) 
 
 To illustrate how good people will sometimes go wrong, read 
 the list of talent engaged in playing this vile trash. 
 
 WILLIAM A. MESTAYER, 
 The heaviest of heavy Tragedians. 
 
"By the Way." 357 
 
 KOB'T E. GRAHAM, 
 Unequalled in Character Impersonations. 
 
 HARRY BLOODGOOD, FRED. TURNER, CHAS. A. STEDMAN, 
 H. A. CRIPPS. 
 
 Miss KATE FOLEY, 
 As bright as a sunbeam, 
 
 SOPHIE HTJMMELL, HELEN LOWELL, LISLE EIDDELL, with 
 JAMES BARTON as Manager. 
 
 Here you have the novelty of a very Good Company in an 
 unpardonably Bad Play. 
 
 AND THEY KNOW IT! 
 
 You must admire their Candour, if you will condemn the Play. 
 
 " Many curious people were drawn to the theatre in 
 this way; but the attraction of failure only lasted a 
 few nights. The invitation to turn out and join the 
 mourners strikes one as funny. ' It helped them to 
 pay expenses/ said the manager; f but it is the most 
 novel effort to "turn diseases to commodities," as 
 Falstaff says, that ever came under my notice/ " 
 
 XII. 
 
 tl AND now/' continued Irving, "to go back to your 
 opening, where we rather discount Raymond's stories 
 of the wild life of Texas. Have you seen the Herald's 
 latest sensation ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 < ' Not the Texan tragedy ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Here it is, then; listen to the heads of it : ' Two 
 Crime- stained Ruffians die with their Boots on Pistol 
 Shots in a Theatre Killed in Self-defence by Men 
 whose Lives they sought The Heroes of many 
 Murders I" 
 
 He handed me the paper, saying, " Read that ! And 
 yet we chaffed poor Raymond ! " 
 
 I read a "special telegram" to the Herald (and 
 
35 8 Impressions of America. 
 
 verified the report at a later day by the records of 
 other journals, local, and of the Empire City), reporting 
 that on the 1 1th of March, between ten and twelve at 
 night, San Antonio, Texas, was " thrown into a state 
 of wild excitement, by the report that Ben Thompson 
 and King Fisher had been shot and killed at the 
 Vaudeville Theatre. An immense crowd thronged 
 around the doors of the theatre, but were denied 
 admission by the officers who had taken possession 
 of the building. 
 
 " It seems that Ben Thompson, who is noted 
 throughout Texas as one of the most reckless and 
 desperate characters in the State, and Kin^ Fisher, 
 who also had the reputation of a desperado, arrived at 
 San Antonio together, from Austin, by the inter- 
 national train. After enjoying the performance at 
 Turner Hall for a time, they left before the curtain 
 fell, and went to the Vaudeville Theatre, in company 
 with another person. As soon as it became known 
 that Thompson was in the city the police were on the 
 alert, expecting trouble. Fisher and Thompson en- 
 tered the Vaudeville, and, after taking a drink at the 
 bar, went upstairs and took seats. They engaged in 
 a brief conversation with Simms, one of the pro- 
 prietors, and the whole party took drinks and cigars 
 together. Thompson and Fisher then rose, and, in 
 company with Simms and Coy, a special policeman at 
 the theatre, started downstairs. 
 
 " The party was joined by Joe Foster, another of 
 the Vaudeville proprietors, and an excited and heated 
 conversation followed, during which Thompson called 
 Foster a liar, a thief, and other vile names. Firing 
 then commenced, and some ten or twelve shots were 
 heard in rapid succession. Police Captain Shardein 
 and another officer rushed upstairs, to find Ben 
 Thompson and King Fisher weltering in their blood 
 in the corner of a room near the door leading down- 
 stairs. Joe Foster was badly wounded in the leg, and 
 Officer Coy slightly grazed on the shin. 
 
"By the Way." 359 
 
 c ' A scene of the wildest confusion ensued as soon as 
 the shooting commenced. All who were in the theatre 
 knew of the presence of Thompson and Fisher, and 
 were well acquainted with their desperate character. 
 When the first shot was fired the whole crowd seemed 
 to be panic-stricken. The dress circle was quickly 
 cleared, the occupants jumping into the parquet below 
 and through the side windows into the street. No one 
 seems to know who fired the first shot, or how many 
 were engaged in the shooting. Before the theatre 
 was fairly cleared of its occupants, 1500 persons on 
 the outside were clamouring at the closed doors for 
 admittance, which was resolutely denied by the police, 
 who had taken possession of the building. Subse- 
 quently the dead bodies of Thompson and Fisher were 
 removed to the city jail, where they were washed and 
 laid out. 
 
 "Bill Thompson, the brother of Ben, was at the 
 White Elephant at the time of the shooting, waiting 
 for Ben to return from Turner Hall. He rushed out 
 as soon as he saw that there was some trouble ; but, 
 as he was unarmed, he was stopped at the entrance to 
 the Vaudeville by Captain Shardein, and kept outside 
 the building. 
 
 "An immense crowd followed the remains of the 
 two desperadoes when they were carried to the jail, 
 and this morning the plaza around the building was 
 thronged. 
 
 "From the statements of those connected with the 
 theatre, the killing was unavoidable, as it seemed to be 
 understood when Thompson entered the house that his 
 purpose was to raise a disturbance ; but whether King 
 Fisher shared in this design is not known. 
 
 " A coroner's jury was summoned at once. They 
 viewed the bodies, and the inquest was held the next 
 morning. After hearing the testimony of eye-wit- 
 nesses and others, a verdict was returned to the effect 
 that Ben Thompson and J. King Fisher came to their 
 deaths by means of pistol-bullets fired from weapons 
 
360 Impressions of America. 
 
 in the hands of W. Simms, Joseph C. Foster, and 
 Jacob Coy; and, further, that the killing was justifi- 
 able, being done in self-defence. Coy, the special 
 policeman on duty at the theatre, testified that 
 Thompson drew his weapon first; but it was seized 
 by witness, who held it in his grasp during the affray. 
 Thompson, however, fired four shots, one of which 
 took effect in Foster's leg. 
 
 " Foster's leg has been amputated, and there are no 
 hopes of his recovery." 
 
 The newspaper man gives " Thompson's antece- 
 dents " and " Fisher's record " as follows : 
 
 Ben Thompson was born in Knottingley, a town in York- 
 shire, England, in 1844. His father was a sea-captain. Ben 
 leaves a wife and two children in Austin a bright boy of four- 
 teen years and a girl of eleven. He has a brother here, who 
 took charge of his body, and carried it to Austin to-day. 
 Thompson's record is a bloody one. He is said to have slain 
 probably twenty men. His last victim was Jack Harris, pro- 
 prietor of the Vaudeville, whom he shot in June, 1882, in the 
 same house in which he himself was slain last night. His 
 death is little regretted here. 
 
 King Fisher was a young man of some twenty-eight years, 
 and his record was, if possible, more bloody than Thompson's. 
 For years he was feared as a frontier desperado, and killed 
 Mexicans almost for pastime. Of late he had reformed a little, 
 and when killed was deputy-sheriff of Walde county. Both 
 men were strikingly handsome, and noted as quick dead-shots 
 with six-shooters, or Winchesters. Fisher's remains were 
 shipped home to-night. 
 
 The reporter adds : " The city is now quiet, though 
 the death of two such notorious desperadoes is still a 
 topic of conversation." 
 
 " Thompson was an Englishman, you see/' remarked 
 Irving, " which verifies to some extent what I have 
 often been told, that England has to answer for a full 
 share of the ruffianly element of the States. The 
 miniug regions of California at one time were crowded 
 with English adventurers. What a vast country it is 
 that encircles in its territories every climate tropical 
 heat and arctic cold ! To-day, while we are ice-bound, 
 
" By the Way:' 361 
 
 a journey of two or three days would take us to Florida 
 and orange-groves, and a day's travel from the heart 
 of a highly civilized city, of refined cultivation and 
 well-ordered society, would carry us into a region 
 where men live in primitive state, so far as the law 
 is concerned, and yet are the pioneers of a great 
 empire. What a story, the history of America, when 
 somebody tells it from its picturesque and romantic 
 side!" 
 
\62 Impressions of America. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 "THE LONGEST JOURNEY COMES TO AN 
 END." 
 
 " Our closing Month in New York " Lent At Rehearsal 
 Finishing Touches Behind the Scenes at the Lyceum and 
 the Star The Story of the production of " Much Ado " 
 in New York Scenery and Properties on the Tour 
 Tone Surprises for Agents in Advance Interesting 
 Technicalities An Incident of the mounting of " Much 
 Ado" The Tomb Scene A great Achievement The 
 End. 
 
 I. 
 
 " IT is almost like getting home again," said Irving, 
 " to find one's self in New York once more. The first 
 place one stops at in a new country always impresses 
 the imagination and lives in the memory. I should 
 say that is so with, pioneers, and more particularly 
 when your first resting-place has been pleasant. Let 
 us get Monday night well over, and we may look for 
 something like a little leisure during our closing month 
 in New York. We shall produce ' Much Ado ? as 
 completely as it is possible for us to do it, outside of 
 our own theatre. If no hitch occurs, I think we will 
 run it for two, Falser even proposes three, weeks. 
 If we have been complimented upon our scenic and 
 stage-managerial work on the other pieces, what may 
 we expect for ' Much Ado ' ? Lent is severely kept 
 in New York, I am told ; Holy Week being among the 
 churches, if not a fast in regard to food, a fast from 
 amusements. We must therefore be content, I sup- 
 
" The longest Journey comes to an End'' 363 
 
 pose, to let ' Much Ado ' grow in time for the restora- 
 tion of social pleasures at Easter." 
 
 On Monday, at a quarter to eleven, Irving was at his 
 post, on the stage of the Star Theatre, for a complete 
 rehearsal. Scenery, properties, lighting, grouping of 
 supernumeraries, the entire business of the piece, was 
 gone through. Not a detail was overlooked, not a set 
 but was viewed as completely from the stalls as from 
 the stage. 
 
 " Pardon me," says Irving to Claudio, " if you get 
 your hand above your head in that position, you will 
 never get it down again. Suppose you adopt this idea, 
 eh ? What do you think ? " 
 
 " Certainly, it is better," says Claudio. 
 
 Irving, as he speaks, illustrates his own view of the 
 scene. 
 
 " Then we will try it again." 
 
 The scene is repeated. 
 
 " Yes, very good, that will do." 
 
 1 " Much Ado " did " grow," and was played for three weeks 
 a " mixed bill " closing the last six nights. The receipts during 
 Lent were unprecedentedly large in the history of New York 
 theatres. These pages go to press before the financial returns 
 are completely made up ; but it is known to-day (April 25) that 
 the receipts for the entire tour will be more than $400,000. 
 The social hospitalities in honour of Irving and Miss Terry, 
 which characterized their first visit to New York, were continued 
 on their return. Among the notable breakfasts of the time was 
 one given to Irving by Edwin Booth, at Delmonico's, on 
 April 14. The Times, in chronicling it, says : " Mr. Booth sat 
 at the head of the table, with Mr. Irving on his right, and 
 Chief-Justice Charles P. Daly on his left. John McCullough 
 knocked elbows with Parke Godwin. The other guests included 
 Jervis McEntee, Launt Thompson, Charles E. Carryl, Eichard 
 Henry Stoddard, William Bispham, Eastman Johnson, William 
 Winter, Bram Stoker, Lawrence Hutton, Frank P. Millett, 
 Junius Henri Browne, H. J. Loveday, and E. C. Benedict. No 
 speeches were made, but in the course of an informal chat Mr. 
 Irving was asked about * Hamlet.' He said that he hardly 
 thought it policy to produce the play for three or four nights at 
 the end of a season, and on the eve of his departure, particularly 
 as he contemplated so speedy a return." 
 
364 Impressions of America. 
 
 The rehearsal goes on. 
 
 " No, no," says Irving, ' ' there must be no wait ; the 
 second procession must come on promptly at the cue. 
 Try it again. And hold your halberd like this, my boy ; 
 not as if you were afraid of it. There, that's it." 
 
 The supernumerary accepts his lesson ; the music 
 cue is repeated ; the halberdiers file in ; the military 
 strains cease, the organ peals out, the wedding proces- 
 sion comes on. 
 
 " Bow, bow, don't nod/' says Irving, stepping 
 forward to instruct a subordinate in the scene ; " that's 
 better go on." 
 
 The solemn voice of Mead opens the scene, and as it 
 proceeds, Irving calls Loveday aside. 
 
 " Too much light at the back there, eh ? " 
 
 " Do you think so ? " says Loveday. " Lower the 
 light there, the blue medium." 
 
 Steps have been placed as a way from the stage 
 to the stalls. Irving (" Charlie " following at his heels) 
 goes into the third row, Loveday watching and waiting. 
 
 " Yes, that will do/' says Irving, at the same time 
 turning to me to remark, u Do you see what a difference 
 that makes ? You have no difficulty now in imagining 
 the distance the subdued light suggests, chapels, 
 vestries, dim cathedral vistas. Do you notice what a 
 last touch of reality to the scene the hurried entrance 
 of the pages give? they break up the measured 
 solemnity of the processions with a different step, a 
 lighter manner, the carelessness of youth ; they have 
 no censers to carry, no ecclesiastical robes to wear." 
 
 As he is speaking he strides up the steps and upon 
 the stage once more. 
 
 " Mr. Ball ! Call Mr. Ball, please." 
 
 The musical director appears. 
 
 " The basses are too loud ; they spoil the closing 
 movement, which is too quick altogether. Come into 
 the stalls and hear it." 
 
 t Howson ! " says Ball, " please give them the time." 
 
 Ball goes into the stalls. The movement is repeated 
 
" The longest Journey comes to an End" 365 
 
 and repeated again, the last time entirely to Irving' s 
 satisfaction. 
 
 In these passing notes I merely desire to give the 
 reader a hint at the kind of work which was done at 
 rehearsal on the Monday of the production of " Much 
 Ado." It lasted until a quarter-past five. Irving was 
 there until the end. Out of sight of the audience he 
 had done enough work to entitle him to a night's rest ; 
 but, so far as the critics and the public were concerned, 
 his labours were only just beginning. Shortly after 
 seven he was on the stage again, and when the play 
 began he was never more heartily engaged in his role 
 as actor. 
 
 " Yes, I am rather tired," he said, in his quiet way, 
 when I spoke to him at the wing ; ( ' feel inclined to sit 
 down, hard work, standing about all day, but this 
 is the reward." 
 
 He pointed to the setting of the garden scene, which 
 was progressing quite smoothly. 
 
 " If we pull through with the cathedral set all right, 
 one will not mind being a little tired." 
 
 I waited to see the work done, and, though I am 
 familiar with the business behind the scenes, I was 
 glad to escape from the " rush and tumble " of it on 
 this occasion. At the Lyceum every man knows the 
 piece, or flat, for the position of which he is responsible. 
 He goes about his work silently, and in list slippers ; 
 he fetches and carries without hurry ; nothing seems 
 more simple ; you see the scene grow into completeness, 
 silently but surely. At the Star, on this first night, it 
 was, to all appearance, chaos. Wings were slid about ; 
 curtains unrolled ; tapestries hauled up by unseen 
 strings; great pillars were pushed here and there; 
 images of saints were launched into space from the flies, 
 to be checked by ropes, just as you might think they 
 were coming to grief; a massive altar-piece was being 
 railed in, while a painted canopy was hoisted over it ; a 
 company of musicians were led out of the way of falling 
 scenes to join a chorus party of ladies and gentlemen, 
 
3 66 Impressions of America. 
 
 who were gradually losing themselves among a 
 picturesque crowd of halberdiers. Everybody seemed 
 to be in everybody's way; it looked like a general 
 scramble. Irving, with " Less noise, my boys less 
 noise," continually on his lips, moved about among 
 the throng; and as Ball, who had made a third and 
 last effort to find a prominent position from which to 
 conduct his band, stepped upon a bench which was 
 instantly drawn from under him by the stage hands 
 who had it in charge I went to the front of the house. 
 Ball's musicians struck up their impressive strains of 
 the " G-loria," and the curtain slowly rose upon the 
 cathedral at Messina as if it had been there all the 
 time, only waiting the prompter's signal. Pande- 
 monium behind the curtain had given place to 
 Paradise in front. It was a triumph of willing hands 
 under intelligent and earnest direction. 
 
 n. 
 
 NEXT day, when the success of the night had been 
 duly chronicled in the press, 2 I suggested to Irving 
 
 2 " The excitement of that cheerful October evening last year 
 when Henry Irving made his first appearance in New York, 
 was repeated last night at the Star Theatre, where ' Much Ado 
 about Nothing' was presented, and where Mr. Irving and Miss 
 Terry effected their re-entrance, and were welcomed by a great 
 and brilliant company with acclamations, with floral tributes 
 and in a charmingly manifest spirit of the heartiest admiration 
 and good-will. The scene, indeed, was one of unusual brightness, 
 kindliness, and enjoyment, both before the curtain and upon 
 the stage. The applause, upon the entrance of Beatrice, a rare 
 vision of imperial yet gentle beauty ! broke forth impetuously 
 and continued long; and, upon the subsequent entrance of 
 Benedict, it rose into a storm of gladness and welcome." 
 Tribune. 
 
 " The performance at the Star Theatre last evening was 
 one of remarkable interest. ' Much Ado about Nothing' was 
 produced, and Mr. Irving and his company furnished a dramatic 
 representation more complete and artistic, and in every way 
 more admirable, than any that has been seen upon our stage. 
 The audience was large and brilliant, and the reappearance of 
 Mr. Irving and Miss Ellen Terry was greeted with every demon- 
 stration of pleasure." Sun. 
 
" The longest Journey comes to an End" 367 
 
 that we should place on record some account of the 
 manner in which the Lyceum scenery, dresses, and 
 properties had been dealt with on the tour ; to what 
 extent the equipment with which he had set out had 
 been used; and, as a concluding chapter, that we 
 should tell the story of the production of " Much Ado " 
 in New York. After a consultation with Loveday, and 
 the verification of some necessary statistics, Irving 
 exhausted the subject in a very pleasant and instruc- 
 tive chat, the points of which are not too technical to 
 mislead the general reader, while they are sufficiently 
 technical to be of special interest to actors and 
 managers. 
 
 " After the Philadelphia engagement/' said Irving, 
 " I discussed the question of scenery with Loveday, and 
 we found that it was impossible to carry or to use many 
 of our largest set-pieces. Even if we could have 
 carried them conveniently, we would not have got them 
 into many of the theatres. Loveday, therefore, packed 
 a mass of it up and sent it back to New York. What 
 we had left was enormous in its bulk, filling two 
 sixty-two-feet cars, and one huge gondola-car, which 
 was made to carry all the flat scenery. We took on 
 with us, however, all the cloths for our entire repertoire, 
 and many of the small practical set-pieces. We carried 
 every property of the entire repertoire, the bedstead 
 of f The Belle's Stratagem/ the altar of ' Much Ado/ 
 the horse of ' The Bells/ down to Cattermole's picture 
 of Letitia Hardy, some Chippendale furniture of the 
 period, and other minor things that are characteristic 
 or useful decoration in the furnishing of interiors and 
 exteriors. All our dresses were included, principals 
 and " supers." Loveday tells me they filled 120 great 
 baskets, the properties being packed in thirty baskets, 
 making a total of 150. 
 
 " We took everything to Boston and Philadelphia 
 It was at the latter city that, as I say, we decided to 
 modify our arrangements. We sent back to New 
 York twenty-seven cloths, eighty flats, sixty wings, 
 
368 Impressions of America. 
 
 ninety set-pieces, and twelve framed cloths; so that 
 we had to adapt our requirements to the local situa- 
 tion. 
 
 " As regards such of our scenery as is painted in 
 tone, you know that one of the most remarkable we 
 have is the frescoed interior of the hall of justice in 
 ' The Merchant of Venice/ a complete reproduction 
 of the period. I had the portraits of the Doges 
 painted by White and Cattermole. I think it is one of 
 the most superb pictures ever seen upon the stage. I 
 understand that some people thought it worn, mistaking 
 the tone for dirt. Here and there, I think we found 
 the tapestries, which we used instead of the frescoes, 
 more acceptable. 
 
 " Some of the scenes in < Hamlet," ' The Bells/ and 
 ' Much ado/ we had specially reproduced ahead of us. 
 Indeed, the companies following us will find portions 
 of the cathedral of Messina around the walls of many 
 an American theatre ; and in every house where we 
 have played, travelling stage-managers, asking for a 
 cottage scene, will find a reminiscence of 'The 
 Lyons Mail' in the inn at Lieursaint. We have 
 left one in each town. As they are fac-similes, they 
 will, I should think, bewilder some of the agents in 
 advance. 
 
 " As to our full Lyceum scenery, and what may be 
 called the administration of it, we achieved our greatest 
 triumph this week, presenting ' Much Ado ' as nearly 
 like the Lyceum production as the space at our disposal 
 would permit. Our stage at home, including the scene 
 dock, which we always use, is seventy feet long, 
 measuring from the footlights ; the Star stage is fifty 
 feet. We took possession of the theatre on Sunday 
 morning, March 30, the stage having been occupied 
 until Saturday night. A small army of men, besides 
 our own, aided by the heads of departments in Mr. 
 Wallack's employment, began work, under Loveday's 
 direction, at seven o'clock a.m., and by four o'clock on 
 Monday morning every scene had been set, lighted, and 
 
" The longest Journey comes to an End" 369 
 
 rehearsed three times over. At four they adjourned, 
 and came on again to meet me at a quarter to eleven, 
 when we had a full rehearsal of scenery, properties, 
 lighting, and of the entire company. I was impressed 
 and delighted with the earnestness of everybody em- 
 ployed in the work, Wallaces people showing as great 
 a desire as our own to do their best to achieve 
 the success we were all striving for. This is very 
 gratifying ; and it has been our experience, wherever 
 we have reappeared, that the employes have thoroughly 
 entered into our work, and shown something like pride 
 in being associated with us. Our experience was not 
 as pleasant at first. Here and there they thought our 
 labours affected, and considered that we gave them 
 unnecessary trouble. In one or two instances they 
 put great and serious difficulties in our way. When, 
 however, they saw the results of our labours they 
 became more amenable to orders ; and when we re- 
 turned to Chicago, Boston, Philadelphia, and now to 
 New York, there was no trouble too great for them to 
 undertake for us. I thank all these good fellows 
 heartily." 
 
 " But to return to ' Much Ado/ " I said ; " let us go 
 a little into detail as to the number of scenes, cloths, 
 flats, properties, and changes there are in the work. 
 To have got through the piece, without a hitch, within 
 three hours on the first night, is a very remarkable 
 performance." 
 
 " Well, then, there are five acts in the play, thirteen 
 scenes. Every scene is a set, except two, and they are 
 front cloths ; there is not a carpenter's scene proper 
 in the entire representation. To begin with, there is 
 the opening scene, the bay, with Leonatas' palace 
 built out twenty-four feet high, a solid-looking piece, 
 that has all the appearance of real masonry. I am 
 giving you these details now from a cold, practical 
 stage-manager's point of view, fact without colour. 
 Well, this scene the outside of Leonatas' house has 
 to be closed in two minutes and a half, discover- 
 
 B b 
 
37 Impressions of America. 
 
 ing the inside, the ball-room, which extends right 
 round the walls of the theatre. This finishes the first 
 act. 
 
 ' c Now, the second act was rung up in eight minutes, 
 showing Craven's beautiful garden scene, terraces, 
 glades, and arbours, in which set the business of the 
 entire act occurs. 
 
 " The next act opens in front of Craven's cloth, the 
 terrace, which changes to the morning view of the 
 garden, which, in its turn, is covered with the cedar 
 cloth ; thus accounting for three scenes. After the last 
 one, in two minutes the change was made to the effec- 
 tive representation of the town at night ; the riverside 
 street ; the quay with its boats moored ; the houses on 
 the other side of the river illuminated, Leonatas' palace 
 among them. This closes the second act. 
 
 " Our great anxiety, as you know, centred in the 
 cathedral set. We calculated that a wait of eighteen 
 to twenty minutes would be required to send the 
 curtain up on that, no doubt, very remarkable scene. 
 It was rung up in fifteen minutes, displaying Telbin's 
 master-piece, the cathedral at Messina, with its real, 
 built- out, round pillars, thirty feet high ; its canopied 
 roof of crimson plush, from which hung the golden 
 lamps universally used in Italian cathedrals ; its painted 
 canopy overhanging the altar ; its great iron-work 
 gates (fac-similes of the originals) ; its altar, with vases 
 of flowers and flaming candles, rising to a height of 
 eighteen feet ; its stained-glass windows and statues 
 of saints ; its carved stalls, and all the other details 
 that are now almost as well known in New York as in 
 London. What a fine, impressive effect is the entrance 
 of the vergers ! " 
 
 " Yes, you were telling me once, when we were 
 interrupted, how you came to introduce this body of 
 men into the scene ; it might be worth while to mention 
 the incident along with these practical details of the 
 working of the piece." 
 
 " It came about in this wise. I went into Quaritch' 
 
" The longest Journey comes to an End" 371 
 
 bookstore one day, and among other curious books I 
 picked up an old, black-letter volume. It was a work 
 on ' Ceremonies/ with four large illustrations. I went 
 into the shop to spend four or five pounds ; I spent 
 eighty-four or five, and carried off the black-letter book 
 on ' Ceremonies/ all Italian. I was at the time pre- 
 paring ' Much Ado ' for the Lyceum. In the picture 
 of a wedding ceremony I saw what struck me at once 
 as a wonderful effect, and of the period too, the 
 Shakespeare period. The effect was a mass of vergers, 
 or javelin men, officers of the church, I should 
 imagine. They were dressed in long robes, and each 
 carried a halberd. I pressed these men at once into the 
 service of Shakespeare and his cathedral scene at Mes- 
 sina, and got that impressive effect of their entrance 
 and the background of sombre colour they formed for 
 the dresses of the bridal party. And it is right too, 
 that's the best of it. Not long ago I was at Seville, 
 and saw a church ceremony there, where the various 
 parties came on in something like the fashion of our 
 people on the stage; but we never did anything 
 so fine in that way as the entrances of the visitors at 
 the Capulets' in ' Komeo and Juliet/ Do you remember 
 the different companies of maskers, with their separate 
 retainers and torch-bearers ? But I see you are about 
 to suggest that we get back to the stage of the Star 
 Theatre ; and so we will. 
 
 " The last act of ' Much Ado ' was rung up in seven 
 minutes, disclosing the scene where Dogberry holds his 
 court ; this is withdrawn upon the garden scene. Then 
 we come to the tomb of Hero, never before presented, 
 except by us, since, I believe, Shakespeare's own time. 
 This scene, with its processions of monks, vergers, and 
 mourners, and the few lines that are spoken, gives us 
 four minutes to make a remarkable change, back to the 
 ball-room in Leonatas' house, where the story is con- 
 cluded. 
 
 " As you say, to have moved all this scenery, and 
 represented the piece, with its many characters, 
 
372 Impressions of America. 
 
 smoothly and without a blemish, in the various pictures, 
 and when you think what trifling mistakes will upset 
 the effect of the finest scenes, to have done all this 
 within three hours is a great achievement. The theatre 
 was handed over to us on Sunday morning; on 
 Monday night at a quarter-past eight the curtain rose 
 on ' Much Ado/ mounted and set with our Lyceum 
 effects, scenery, properties, company, and fell at 
 twelve minutes past eleven/' 
 
 " And the longest journey comes to an end," said 
 Irving. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 PRINTED BY GILBERT AND HJVINGTON, LIMITED, ST. JOHN'S SaOARE , B.C. 
 
PRICE 6s. 
 
 HENRY IRVING'S 
 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 
 
 NARRATED IN A SERIES OF SKETCHES, CHRONICLES, 
 AND CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 BY JOSEPH HATTON, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "CLYTIE," " CRUEL LONDON," "THREE RECRUITS," "TO-DAY IN 
 AMERICA," "JOURNALISTIC LONDON," ETC. 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 "Mr. Hatton has interspersed his work with some bright writing on 
 general subjects, and with some clever bits of description. He knows 
 America and the Americans exceedingly well. . . . Many of Mr. Irving's 
 remarks upon stage business and on his rendering of his own favourite parts 
 are of great interest, and Mr. Hatton's labours have so far been crowned 
 with success that he has produced a couple of very presentable volumes, 
 from which we proceed to pick out some of the plums. . . . Mr. Irving's 
 remarks on acting, as we have said, would be well worth reproducing. 
 Perhaps the most striking and suggestive is his conception of Shylock, 
 which we have unfortunately no space to give at length, and which we 
 should only spoil by condensing. And in justice to Mr. Hatton, we must 
 repeat that, more especially in his second volume, there are lively pictures 
 of American scenery, of American life, and of American travel." Times. 
 
 "Happily the expedition included a gentleman well qualified for the 
 work of furnishing a permanent chronicle of its ' faictes et gestes. ' When 
 the Society of the Comedie FranQaise made their memorable visit to 
 England, that distinguished critic, M. Francisque Sarcey, elected to travel 
 wjth them in the quality of historiographer. Mr. Hatton, in like manner, 
 shared all the long journeys of the Lyceum Company on the American 
 continent ; joined in all their public and private festivities ; assisted at their 
 councils of war and anxious scrutinies of maps and routes ; and witnessed 
 all their receptions by first-night and other audiences in American cities 
 far and wide. . . . We have not space to quote at length any of the 
 numerous passages containing Mr. Irving's views on the art with which his 
 name is inseparably associated ; though probably no portions of Mr. 
 Hatton's volumes will be of more enduring interest to those who concern 
 themselves with dramatic history." Daily News. 
 
 " Mr. Hatton has not indulged in any attempt at book-making, resting 
 content to present the 'sketches, chronicles, and conversations' with a 
 lightness and fidelity that will cause them to be treasured as an interest- 
 ing and faithful record of what Mr. Irving so happily calls a ' delightful 
 progress.' " Daily Chronicle. 
 
 "As we always wish to think favourably of that great nation of the 
 English race, of their manners, institutions, public and private life, of their 
 
 C C 
 
374 
 
 character, sentiments, ideas, and all their concerns present and future, it is 
 satisfactory to find Mr. Henry Irving so well pleased with all that he saw 
 and heard amongst them. Mr. Hatton, his literary ally, whose shrewdness 
 as an observer of men and cities has been proved on former occasions, con- 
 tributes plenty of lively descriptive and narrative incidents, for the most 
 part friendly and agreeable, which have an interest beyond that of the 
 personal experiences of the Lyceum Company there. But these experiences 
 make very tolerable light reading, being told without reserve in a spirit of 
 frank and jovial goodfellowship, an enjoying, sociable, mutually diverting 
 spirit, with a keen perception of the humorous, quaint, and comical aspects 
 of their situation as favourite guests in a country which is but half-foreign 
 and half-homely to English visitors coming with the best credentials, and 
 fully deserving, in every respect, the hearty reception they everywhere 
 met." Illustrated London News. 
 
 "Mr. Irving returns to his numerous friends and admirers, simultaneously 
 with the issue of the record of his wanderings in America, and the im- 
 pressions of his experience there. These * Impressions of America, ' as 
 narrated by Mr. Joseph Hatton, are remarkably pleasant reading. There 
 are descriptions of the great tragedian in his London rooms and at his 
 suburban domicile, immersed in his art, or quietly discussing it and its 
 professors with his friends; giving his views on the new life unfolding before 
 his eyes in the great American cities, or telling apt stories for the amuse- 
 ment of his companions in the cars. The book is, naturally, a sonata on 
 one string ; but the player knows his business, and handles his bow with 
 excellent taste." World. 
 
 "Mr. Hatton has performed with phenomenal success and tact a task 
 which few literary men would have undertaken without great misgivings. 
 He had to incorporate in his volumes everything worthy of note in Mr. 
 Irving's travels, and much that was very worthy of note was necessarily of 
 a kind which is generally lost in the ephemeral columns of newspapers. 
 He had to give the necessary degree of dignity to a considerable number of 
 newspaper excerpts, and to preserve, without an appearance of fuss or 
 overdoing it, a number of impromptu speeches. Many business details had 
 to be brought in, or the work would have been very incomplete. But all 
 the time Mr. Hatton had to remember that he was the literary companion 
 and Boswell of a distinguished actor, who had set his mark, and was setting 
 his mark continuously, not only on the stage art, but on the Shakespearian 
 and other poetical interpretations of the age. And along with all this, Mr. 
 Irving's Boswell had to be perpetually lively, on pain of losing that great 
 circulation which, of course, it would be a principal aim of such a work to 
 secure. In all this we say Mr. Hatton has succeeded. His book will have 
 a great sale now, and it will be sought after generations hence as one of the 
 most interesting mementoes of artistic life in our time. On its serious 
 side, perhaps the best example in the book is to be found in Mr. Hatton's 
 recital of Mr. Irving's conception of Shylock as given by himself in one of 
 the most intellectual of conversations." Liverpool Daily Post. 
 
 "Mr. Irving understood his position. . . . And it redounds to Mr. 
 Irving's praise that he adopted the proper means for preserving his im- 
 pressions, by bringing with and carrying with him everywhere a skilled 
 and accomplished writer. . . . All nationalities have their weaknesses, and 
 it is easy enough to make them the subject of ridicule. Mr. Irving was 
 not blind to our foibles and peculiarities ; but he found in America and 
 
375 
 
 in the American people much to admire, and Mr. Hatton's book cannot 
 fail to strengthen those ties of friendship which exist between the younger 
 and the older country." New York Herald. 
 
 " Mr. Joseph Hatton, who is one of Mr. Irving's intimate friends, and 
 who was his companion in this country, has written the greater part of the 
 record, and the object sought and accomplished by him was a history of 
 Mr. Irving's American tour. This the volume presents in copious fulness 
 and minute accuracy. No such work has ever before been done for an 
 actor. The narrative glows with the excitement that attended Mr. Irving's 
 remarkable progress through our country, and fairly teems with the multi- 
 tudinous incidents that steadily attended his course. There will, at least, 
 be no complaint from the future historian of the stage that this book passed 
 over the actual details, and in the desire to theorize and reflect, omitted the 
 common and essential facts. Viewed as material for history in this especial 
 department, the volume is a trustworthy contribution to literature, for it is 
 comprehensive, it is thorough, it is explicit, and it is true. With a clear 
 and fresh recollection of Mr. Irving's tour, this can be said, very heartily, 
 for Mr. Hatton's account of it. The atmosphere of travel is preserved ; 
 there is no constraint or squeamish fastidiousness in the style or the sub- 
 stance ; the twenty-two chapters are full of diversity, and they convey a 
 just impression of the most remarkable theatrical journey that has ever been 
 made in America, scarcely excepting those of Jenny Lind and Charles 
 Dickens ; and, furthermore, by means of brief biographies in foot-notes, a 
 considerable quantity of useful theatrical information has here been made 
 convenient of access. A sketch of Miss Ellen Terry, for example, finds its 
 place in this way, and is of obvious worth. To Mr. Irving's part in the 
 book it is possible to do justice only by extract ; and several parts of his 
 talk are given herewith. But that which is most impressive in the actor's 
 share is the remarkable figure that he himself presents amid all these scenes 
 of novelty, excitement, artistic effort, and exacting circumstance." New 
 York Tribune. 
 
 "Mr. Irving's occasional expressions of opinion upon things American 
 are scattered through the book. . . . They are such expressions as might 
 be expected from a cultivated gentleman who is not in the least disposed 
 to take the world in hand for its immediate and compulsory reformation. 
 They are pleasant things to read, and the whole book, indeed, may be 
 characterized as an agreeable one." New York Commercial Advertiser. 
 
 "Mr. Hatton is a competent Boswell or Eckermann to Mr. Irving's 
 Johnson or Goethe. ... A mere short review can do no justice to the 
 minute and most captivating descriptions of breakfasts, luncheons, dinners, 
 suppers, first-nights' speeches, and complimentary addresses, and play-bills, 
 which form the staple of Mr. Hatton's book." Harper's Magazine. 
 
 " Covering a volume of 475 pages, it is an uninterrupted tale of interest 
 from beginning to end. Commencing to read it, one dislikes very much to 
 lay it down until he has read every word." New York Newsdealer. 
 
 "Written in a chatty, pleasant style, and gives a picturesque account of 
 the great actor's tour throughout the country, and the impressions made on 
 him during the trip." Albany Express. 
 
 SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE, & RIVINGTON, 
 CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET, LONDON. 
 
University of California Berkeley 
 
 Gift of 
 ALICE PATRICIA GARCIA