by Bram Stoker
Faust was played in Belfast on the night of November 13. As each one of the little party finished on the stage they got dressed and were driven down to the wharf. The moment the last call was given at the end of the play Irving hurried into his travelling clothes, and he and I and Walter were whirled off to the Magic. The instant we passed on deck the gangway plank was drawn and the ship started off full speed. Such was contrary to law, as ships can only go part speed in the Loch. But no one made objections; we were on the King’s service. Mr. McDowell came with us. Supper was ready.
We got to Liverpool at eight in the morning and found alongside the dock the special carriage, one of the Royal saloons used on the London and NorthWestern Railway; got on board, and were whirled off to Crewe, where we caught the fast express to Rugby. There we took on a dining-car and went on to Peterborough. Here our carriage was handed over to the Great Eastern Company, which took us on the fast train to Lynn, and thence on a special to Wolferton.
At the station we found a whole row of reporters. They were not allowed to go to Sandringham. I promised to ask for leave to send them word as soon as the performance should be over. The permission was graciously acceded, and when all was over I sent the line agreed on, “ Programme adhered to.” It was extended to a column next morning in some of the papers.
The King had sent a brougham for Sir Henry. In it he, Miss Hackney and I were driven at once to Sandringham. The others came on almost immediately by one of the King’s motor buses. Incidentally I may say that there was some concern in the official world and certain private reprimanding because even that brougham was allowed to pass in unchallenged. The police arrangements were — very properly — carried out with the most extraordinary exactitude.
After tea Irving went to lie down for a while in the room provided for him, and let me say that it was no joke providing a room at Sandringham at that time. The Kaiser had with him a vast and important entourage, and all the English guests had to put up with such accommodation as was possible, which of course they were loyally glad to do.
At ten o’clock precisely, Sandringham time — which is half-an-hour ahead of standard time — the Kaiser and the Queen moved into the great drawing-room where the stage was fixed. Then followed the King and family, and guests. There were altogether some three hundred and fifty in the room.
As the movement to the theatre began there was a — to us — amusing episode. After our arrival, when things were being put in order for the performance, it had been discovered that kettle drums were missing. Either they had not been sent at all or they had gone astray. At first we took it for granted that in such a scene of pomp and splendour as was around us drums and drummers would be easy to find. But it was not so. Drums were obtainable but no drummer, and there was not time to get one from the nearest town. Now the military music is necessary for the performance of Waterloo; the quicksteps are not only required for the Prelude but are in the structure of the piece. For the occasion of the Imperial visit, there had been brought from Vienna a celebrated string band, the conductor of high status in his art and all the components of the band fine players. But there was no drummer; and there could be even no proper rehearsal of the incidental music of the play without the drums. We were beginning to despair, when the head constable of the county who was present said that there was one man in the police of the division who was the drummer of the Police Band of the district, and undertook to try and find him. After much telegraphing and telephoning it was found that he was out on his beat about the farthest point-of his district. However, when he was located a trap with a fresh horse was sent for him. He arrived tired and foodless just before the time fixed for beginning. He was a fine performer fortunately, a master of his work, and with the score before him needed no preparation.
When the signal was given of the movement of the Royalties the Conductor took his baton, but when he looked at the score of the Prelude, which is continually changing time with the medley of the various regimental quicksteps, he said:
“I cannot play it.”
“Go on, man! Go on! “ said Belmore, who was acting as stage manager.
“I cannot I “ he answered; “ I cannot! “ and stood unmoving. Things were serious, for already the procession was formed and the Kaiser and the Queen were entering the room. It had been arranged that the Prelude was to play them to their seats. “ Give me the stick! “ said Belmore suddenly, and took the fiddle bow with which he conducted from the unresisting hand of the stranger. Of course all this was behind the scenes and amongst ourselves only. Then he began to conduct. He had never done so, but he had some knowledge of music.
But the gentlemen of the band did not hesitate. They were all fine musicians and well accustomed to playing together. Probably they were not averse from showing that they could play perfectly without a conductor at all! They certainly did seem to play with especial verve. Belmore was a sight to behold. He seemed to know all the tricks of leadership, modifying or increasing tone with one hand whilst he beat time with the other; pausing dramatically with uplifted baton or beating with sudden forcefulness; screwing round with his left hand as though to twist the music into a continued unity. Anyhow it — or something — told. The music went excellently and without a hitch.
Waterloo went splendidly, and we heard afterwards that the Kaiser was delighted with it. It was followed by Dr. Johnson, in which Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Bourchier took the principal parts. Irving was asked to supper with the Royal party; so too were Mr. and Mrs. Bourchier. The rest of us supped in the Conservatory with the Equerries and others.
At one o’clock — half-past one Sandringham time — we drove to Wolferton, where two trains stood ready to start. One, a long one for London — the other a special consisting of engine and brake-van and the two sleeping saloons. The row of reporters were again on the platform and went back on the London train.
Our party got to sleep as soon as we could. At a quarter to seven in the morning we got to the dock at Liverpool and went aboard the Magic which stood ready with steam up. The tide was low, but as there was much fog in the river Mr.
McDowell arranged that the dock-gates should be opened before the usual hour. We actually stirred up the mud with the screw as we passed out into the Mersey. The river was dark with thick fog and we had to find our way, inch by inch, to beyond New Brighton. We were beginning to despair of arriving at Belfast in time when we cleared the belt of fog. We came out seemingly all at once into bright sunshine which lasted all the way home. It was a delightful day and a delightful run. The sun was bright, the air fresh and bracing and the water of sapphire blue so calm that passing to the south’ard of the Isle of Man we ran between the Calf and the Hen and Chickens — the dangerous cluster of rocks lying just outside it.
We ran full tilt up Belfast Lough and arrived at the wharf at five o’clock in good time for a wash and dress for the theatre.
When Irving stepped on the stage that night he got a right hearty cheer.
That journey was in many ways a record.
CHAPTER LXVIII
PRESIDENTS OF THE UNITED STATES
Chester Arthur — Grover Cleveland — A judgment on taste — McKinley — The “War Room “ — Reception after a Cabinet Council — McKinley’s memory — Theodore Roosevelt — His justice as Police Commissioner — Irving at his New Year Reception
I
HENRY IRVING had the honour of calling four Presidents of the United States by the name of friend.
The first was General Chester A. Arthur, who was in his high office in 1884 when Irving first visited Washington. The President sent to him a most kindly invitation to a Reception through Clayton McMichael, then Marshal of the district of Columbia. This was on the night of Saturday, 8th March. They had already met on Wednesday, 5th. Irving had called at the White House and had the honour of an interview. On the occasion of the Reception he had asked Irving to remain with a very few intimate friends after the rest had gone. They sat till a late — or rather an early hour.
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br /> II
Irving’s first meeting with Mr. Grover Cleveland was when the latter was President-Elect. The occasion was the matinee for the benefit of the Actors’ Fund at the Academy of Music in New York, December 4, 1887. Mr. Cleveland was in a box, and when Irving had with Ellen Terry played the fourth act of The Merchant ofVenice he sent to ask if he would come to see him in his box. The occasion seemed rather peculiar as Irving thus described it to me that evening:
“When I came into the box Mr. Cleveland turned round and, seeing me, stood up and greeted me warmly. As I was thus facing the stage I could hot help noticing that a man dressed exactly as I dressed Shylock, and with a wig and make up counterparts of my own, was playing some droll antics with a pump and milk cans. The PresidentElect saw, I suppose, the surprise on my face, for he turned to the stage for a moment and then, turning back to me again, said in a grave way:
“‘ That doesn’t seem very good taste, does it! ‘ Then leaning against the side of the box with his face to me and his back to the stage, he went on speaking about Shylock.”
III
Major McKinley was a friend before he was nominated for President. The first meeting was at New York on November 16, 1893. He came to the play with Melville Stone, a great friend of Irving’s — who introduced Irving to him. The following week we all met again at supper with John Sergeant Wise. This time Joseph Jefferson was of the party. Afterwards in Cleveland Mark Hanna brought him round to see Irving in his dressing-room. This was after his election. Amongst other things we spoke of the possibility of Mark Hanna coming as United States Ambassador to London. “ Ah! if he only would! “ said McKinley.
In 1899, during our visit to Washington, Irving and I called at the White House to pay our respects to the President then in his second term of office. The officials of course recognised Sir Henry, and said that they knew the President would wish to see him. A Cabinet meeting was on, but when word was sent the President graciously sent a message asking Irving to wait as the Cabinet was nearly over and he wished to see him. We waited in the “ War Room,” a small — by comparison — room off the Council Chamber. Here we were taken charge of by Colonel Montgomery, who explained to us the mechanism by which the President was made aware of and could control all that was then going on in the Philippines where the war was being pursued with grim determination on both sides. All round the room were land maps and sea charts, and on either was marked as news came the position of each body of soldiers or each ship. The room was full of telegraph instruments and telephones some one of which was nearly always at work. Whilst we were waiting a message came that a certain advanced party of United States troops were surrounded and in great danger, and a message was sent by the President to hold their position at any cost, relief was coming. Irving was immensely struck with all this, and said it was the most wonderful piece of organisation he had ever known.
Presently word was brought that the Cabinet Council was over and would we go in. It was a really impressive sight — all the more as there was no pomp or parade of any sort. In the middle of the great room with its row of arched windows stood the President, the baldness of his domed forehead making more apparent than ever his likeness to Napoleon. Grouped round him were the various chiefs of State departments, amongst them John Hay, Secretary of State; Elihu Root, Secretary for War; Charles Emory Smith, Postmaster-General, all of whom were by that time old friends. We had known them intimately since 1883-4. The President was sweetly gracious. We thought that he did not seem well in health; there was a waxen hue in his face which we did not like. The terrible labour of the Presidency — increased in his time by two wars — was undoubtedly telling on his strength. We were with him quite half-an-hour, a long while for such a place and time, and then came away.
That night we supped with the Secretary for War in his house in Rhode Island Avenue; he had a great gathering of officials — nearly all the Cabinet, the Paymaster-General, General Bates and his wife, and Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Nelson Page, friends whom Irving held dear — as I have the pleasure of so doing myself.
Indeed that was a long week in Washington. I do not know that in all my experience of Irving he ever went out so many times in a week. Sunday night, 24th December, reception and supper at the house of Wayne Macveigh, formerly Federal Attorney-General and late United States Ambassador to Italy; Tuesday as I have said; Wednesday to lunch with the British Ambassador, Lord Paunce- fote — Ellen Terry being of the party; Thursday to lunch with the Postmaster-General — here were all the Cabinet except the Attorney-General, who was ill; Friday to lunch with the Secretary of State, and to supper with the Nelson Pages. This last was one of the most delightful parties which Irving — or any one else — ever had the privilege of attending. Four o’clock found us still unbroken.
At that visit to the White House we saw President McKinley for the last time. His assassination was attempted on 6th September 1901; he died on 14th.
On the 18th September Irving gave his Reading of Becket at Winchester for the King Alfred Millenary. He was called on to speak, and after speaking of King Alfred and what he had done for the making of England, he said:
“All that race which looks on King Alfred’s memory as a common heritage is in bitter grief for one whom to-morrow a mourning nation is to lay to rest. President McKinley was at once avatar and emblem of noble purpose, high thought and patriotism. He, like his predecessor of a thousand years ago, though he worked” immediately for his own country, worked for all the world; and his memory shall be green for ever in the hearts of a loyal and expansive race — in the hearts of all English-speaking people.”
IV
Irving’s first meeting with Theodore Roosevelt was on 27th November 1895. The occasion was a luncheon party given by Seth Low, ex-Mayor of Brooklyn and then President of Columbia College, where a week before Irving had lectured on “ The Character of Macbeth.” The party numbered sixteen all told and included Charles Dudley Warner, W. D. Howells, Joseph Choate, Professors Morse, Price, and Brander Matthews. At that time Mr. Roosevelt was Commissioner of Police for the City of New York, with absolute power over the whole force. He had been appointed for a term of years irremovably. After the Lexow Commission it was necessary that the force should be re-organised. To do so required brains, energy, integrity, and an iron hand. Irving and I used often to talk of him and the task which he had undertaken, and we were both delighted to meet him. He and Irving had a chat together before lunch and again after it. For myself he was a person of extraordinary interest. Mr. Low, whom I had met a few years before at dinner in the house of the Baroness Burdett-Coutts, introduced me, and before lunch we had a chat. Before he left he came to me and said: “ I am holding a sort of Court of justice the day after to-morrow — a trial of the charges made against policemen during the last fortnight. Would you like to come with me; you seem to be interested in the subject?”
Of course I jumped at the chance; it was exceedingly kind of him to give me such a unique opportunity. I went down at the hour appointed. The place was an immense hall where were gathered all the complainants with their witnesses, and the police with their witnesses. I estimated the number of persons present at not less than a thousand. The place of judgment was a raised table at the end of the room. The Commissioner sat behind it, and I beside him. Everything was done in perfect order. The Commissioner had the list of cases before him, and when one was over a lusty officer with a stentorian voice called out the next. Those interested in each case had been already grouped, so that when the case was announced the whole body thus segregated moved up in front of the table. The method was simple. The case was stated as briefly as possible — the Commissioner saw to that; the witnesses for the prosecution gave their evidence and were now and again asked a question from the Bench. Then the defendant had his say and produced his witnesses, if any; and again came an occasional searching question from the Commissioner, who when he had satisfied himself as to the justice of the case would smite the table with his hand and order on th
e next case. While the little crowd was changing places he would write a few words on the paper before him — judgment and perhaps sentence in one. The Commissioner was incarnate justice, and his judgments were given with a direct simplicity and brevity which were very remarkable. Each one would take only a few minutes; sometimes as few as two or three, never more than about twelve or fifteen. As there were very many cases brevity was a necessity.
Now and then in a case very difficult of conclusion Mr. Roosevelt, when he had written his decision, would turn to me and say:
“What do you think of that? “ I would answer to the best of my own opinion: “ I think the man’s innocent! “ or “ I think he is guilty! “ Then he would turn up the paper, lying face down, and show me what had been his own decision. As in every such case it was exactly what I had said, I thought — naturally — that he was very just.
I came away from the Court with a very profound belief in Mr. Roosevelt. I wrote afterwards in my diary:
“Must be President some day. A man you can’t cajole, can’t frighten, can’t buy.”
On December 28, 1903, Irving commenced a week’s engagement at Washington. On the morning of Friday, January I, 1904, he received a letter from the President saying that he was that day holding his New Year’s Reception and that he would be very pleased if he would come. Sir Henry would be expected to come by the private entrance with the Ambassadors. It was such a letter as to make its recipient feel proud — so courteous, so full of fine feeling and genuine hospitality — so significant of his liking and respect. The night before we had kept Irving up rather late. After the play and supper some of his comrades stopping in the hotel went up to bid him God-speed — to usher out the Old Year and to usher in the New — to keep the “ First Foot “ in Scotch fashion.