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Peeps at People - Being Certain Papers from the Writings of Anne Warrington Witherup

<h2>SIR HENRY IRVING</h2> The impression left upon my mind by my curious and intensely dramatic[Pg 89] encounter with Zola was of so theatric a nature that I resolved to get back to conventional ground once more through the medium of the stage. I was keyed up to a high pitch of nervous excitement by my unexpected meeting with an unsuspected step-mother, and the easiest return to my norm of equanimity, it seemed to me, lay through the doors of the greenroom. Hence I sought out London's only actor, Sir Henry Irving. I found him a most agreeable gentleman. He received me cordially on the stage of his famous theatre. There was no setting[Pg 90] of any kind. All about us were the bare cold walls of the empty stage and it was difficult to believe that this very same spot, the night before, had been the scene of brilliant revels. "How do you do, Miss Witherup?" said Sir Henry, as I arrived, advancing with his peculiar stride, which reminds me of dear old Dobbin on my father's farm. "It is a great pleasure to welcome to England so fair a representative of so fine a press." "I wished to see you, 'at home,' Sir Henry," I replied, not desiring to let him see how completely his cordiality had won me, and so affecting a coldness I was far from feeling. "That is why I have you here, madam," he replied. "The stage is my home. The boards for me; the flare of the lime-lights; the pit; the sweet family circle; the auditorium in the dim distance; the foot-lights—ah, these are the inspiring influences of my life! The old song 'Home Is Where the Heart Is' must, in my case, be[Pg 91] revised to favor the box-office, and instead of the 'Old Oaken Bucket,' the song I sing is the song of the 'Old Trap Door.' Did you ever hear that beautiful poem, 'The Song of the Old Trap Door'?" "No, Sir Henry, I never did," said I. "I hope to, however." "I will do it now for you," he said; and assisting me over the foot-lights into a box, he took the centre of the stage, ordered the calcium turned upon him, and began: "How dear to my heart are the scenes of my triumphs, In Hamlet, Othello, and Shylock as well! Completely confounding the critics who cry 'Humphs!' And casting o'er others a magical spell! How dear to my soul are the fond recollections Of thunderous clappings and stampings and roars As, bowing and scraping in many directions, I sink out of sight through the old trap doors! The old trap doors, the bold trap doors, That creaking and squeaking sink down thro' the floors!" [Pg 92] I could not restrain my enthusiasm when he had finished. "Bravo!" I cried, clapping my hands together until my palms ached. "More!" "There is no more," said Sir Henry, with a gratified smile. "You see, recited before ten or twenty thousand people with the same verve that I put into 'Eugene Aram,' or 'Ten Little Nigger Boys,' so much enthusiasm is aroused that I cannot go on. The applause never stops, so of course a second verse would be a mere waste of material." "Quite so," I observed. Then a thought came to me which I resolved to turn to my profit. "Sir Henry," I said, "I'll bet a box of cigars against a box for your performance to-night that I can guess who wrote that poem for you in one guess." "Done!" he replied, eagerly. "Austin," said I. "Make Miss Witherup out a ticket for Box A for the 'Merchant of Venice' to-night," cried the famous actor to his secretary. "How the deuce did you know?" [Pg 93] "Oh, that was easy," I replied, much gratified at having won my wager. "I don't believe any one else could have thought of a rhyme to triumphs like 'cry Humphs'!" "You have wonderful insight," remarked Sir Henry. "But come, Miss Witherup, I did not mean to receive you in a box, or on a bare stage. What is your favorite style of interior decoration?" His question puzzled me. I did not know but that possibly Sir Henry's words were a delicate method of suggesting luncheon, and then it occurred to me that this could not possibly be so at that hour, one o'clock. Actors never eat at hours which seem regular to others. I hazarded an answer, however, and all was made clear at once. "I have a leaning towards the Empire style," said I. Sir Henry turned immediately and roared upward into the drops: "Hi, Billie, set the third act of 'Sans Gene,' and tell my valet to get out my Bonapartes.[Pg 94] The lady has a leaning towards the Empire. Excuse me for one moment, Miss Witherup," he added, turning to me. "If you will remain where you are until I have the room ready for you, I will join you there in five minutes." <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/ill_021.jpg" width-obs="329" height-obs="400" alt="" /> "I SAT QUIETLY IN THE BOX"</div> The curtain was immediately lowered, and I sat quietly in the box, as requested, wondering greatly what was going to happen. Five minutes later the curtain rose again, and there, where all had been bare and cheerless, I saw the brilliantly lit room wherein Bonaparte as Emperor has his interview with his ex-laundress. It was cosey, comfortable, and perfect in every detail, and while I was admiring, who should appear at the rear entrance but Bonaparte himself—or, rather, Sir Henry made up as Bonaparte. "Dear me, Sir Henry!" I cried, delightedly. "You do me too much honor." "That were impossible," he replied, gallantly. "Still, lest you be embarrassed by such preparations to receive you, let me say that this is my invariable custom, and when I know in advance of the tastes of my callers, all is ready when they arrive. Unfortunately, I have had to keep you waiting because I did not know your tastes." "Do you mean to say that you adapt your scenery and personal make-up to the likings of the individual who calls?" I cried, amazed. "Always," said he. "It is easy, and I think courteous. For instance, when the Archbishop of Canterbury calls upon me I have Canterbury Cathedral set here, and wear vestments, and receive him in truly ecclesiastical style. The organ is kept going, and lines of choir-boys, suitably garbed, pass constantly in and out. "When the King of Denmark called I had the throne-room scene of 'Hamlet' set, and we talked, with his Majesty sitting on the throne, and myself, clad as the melancholy Prince, reclining on a rug before him. He expressed himself as being vastly entertained. It gave him pleasure, and was no trouble to me beyond giving orders[Pg 95] [Pg 96] to the stage-manager. Then when an old boyhood friend of mine who had gone wrong came to see me, hearing that he was an inebriate, as well as a thief, I received him in the character of Dubose, in the attic scene of the 'Lyons Mail.'" "A very interesting plan," said I, "and one which I should think would be much appreciated by all." "True," replied Sir Henry. And then he laughed. "It never failed but once," said he. "And then it wasn't my fault. Old Beerbohm Tree came to visit me one morning, and I had the graveyard scene of 'Hamlet' set, and myself appeared as the crushed tragedian. I thought Tree had some sense of humor and could appreciate the joke, but I was mistaken. He got as mad as a hatter, and started away in a rage. If he hadn't fallen into the grave on the way out, I'd never have had a chance to explain that I didn't mean anything by it." By this time I had clambered back to the stage again, and was about to sit down[Pg 97] on one of the very handsome Empire sofas in the room, when Sir Henry gave a leap of at least two feet in the air, and roared with rage. <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/ill_022.jpg" width-obs="400" height-obs="312" alt="" /> "'SEND THE PROPERTY-MAN HERE!' HE CRIED"</div> "Send the property-man here!" he cried, trembling all over and turning white in the face. "Send him here; bring him in chains. If he's up-stairs, throw him down; if he's down-stairs, put him in a catapult and throw him up. It matters not how he comes, as long as he comes." I shrank back in terror. The man's rage seemed almost ungovernable, and I observed that he held a poker in his hand. Up and down the room he strode, muttering imprecations upon the property-man, until I felt that if I did not wish to see murder done I would better withdraw. "Excuse me, Sir Henry," said I, rising, and speaking timidly, "I think perhaps I'd better go." "Sit down!" he retorted, imperiously, pointing at the sofa with the poker. I sat down, and just then the property-man arrived. [Pg 98] "Want me, S'rennery?" he said. Irving gazed at him, with a terrible frown wrinkling his forehead, for a full minute, during which it seemed to me that the whole building trembled, and I could almost hear the seats in the top gallery creak with nervousness. "Want you?" he retorted, witheringly. "Yes, I want you—as an usher, perhaps; as a flunky to announce that a carriage waits; as a Roman citizen to say Hi-hi! but as a property-man, never!" There was another ominous pause, and I could see that the sarcasm of the master sank deeply into the soul of the hireling. "Wha—what 'ave I done, S'rennery?" asked the trembling property-man. "What have you done?" roared Sir Henry. "Look upon that poker and see!" The man looked, and sank sobbing to the floor. "Heaven help me!" he moaned. "I have a sick grandfather, S'rennery," he added. "I was up with him all night." The great man immediately became all[Pg 99] tenderness. Throwing the poker to one side, he sprang to where his unfortunate property-man lay, and raised him up. "Why the devil didn't you say so?" he said, sympathetically. "I didn't know it, Henderson, my dear old boy. Never mind the poker. Let it go. I forgive you that. Here, take this £20 note, and don't come back until your grandfather is well again." It was a beautiful scene, and so pathetic that I almost wept. The property-man rose to his feet, and putting the £20 note in his pocket, walked dejectedly away. Sir Henry turned to me, and said, his voice husky with emotion: "Pardon me, Miss Witherup! I was provoked." "It was a magnificent scene, Sir Henry," said I. "But what was the matter with the poker? I thought it rather a good one." "It is," said he, sitting down on a small chair and twiddling his thumbs. "But, you see, this is an Empire scene, and that confounded thing is a Marie Antoinette poker. Why, if that had happened[Pg 100] at a public performance, I should have been ruined." "Might not Bonaparte have used a Marie Antoinette poker?" I asked, to draw him out. "Bonaparte, Miss Witherup," he answered, "might have done anything but that. You see, by the time he became Emperor every bit of household stuff in the palace had been stolen by the French mobs. Therefore it is fair to assume that the palace was entirely refurnished when Bonaparte came in, and as at that time there was no craze for Louis Quinze, or Louis Seize, or Louis number this, that, and the other, it is not at all probable that Napoleon would have taken the trouble to snoop around the second-hand shops for a poker of that kind. Indeed, it is more than probable that everything he had in the palace was absolutely new." "What a wonderful mind you must have, Sir Henry, to think of these things!" I said, enthusiastically. "Miss Witherup," said the actor-knight,[Pg 101] impressively, "this is an age of wonderful minds, and there are so many of them that he who wishes to rise above his fellows must be careful of every detail. Would I have been a knight to-day had it not been for my care of details? Never. It would have gone to Willie Edouin, or to my friend Tree, or to some other actor of the same grade. My principle, Miss Witherup, is not original. I look after the details, and the results take care of themselves. It is the old proverb of the pennies and the pounds all over again." "It is wisdom," I said, oracularly. "But it must be wearing." "Oh no," said Sir Henry, with a gesture of self-deprecation. "There are so many details that I have had to make up a staff of advisers. As a matter of fact, I am not a man. I am a combination of men. In the popular mind I embody the wisdom, the taste, the culture, the learning of many. In fact, Miss Witherup, while I am not London, London finds artistic expression in me." [Pg 102] "And you are coming to America again?" I asked, rising, for I felt I ought to go, I was so awed by the humble confession of my host. "Some day," said he. "When times are better." "Why, Sir Henry," I cried, "you who have just given £20 to your property-man can surely afford to cross—" <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/ill_023.jpg" width-obs="284" height-obs="400" alt="" /> "'IT WAS ALL ARRANGED BEFOREHAND, MISS'"</div> "I referred, madam," he interrupted, "to times in America, for I contemplate charging $5 a stall when next I visit you. You see, my next visit will be the first of a series of twenty farewell seasons which I propose to make in the States, which I love dearly. Don't forget that, please—which I love dearly. I want your people to know." "I shall not, Sir Henry," said I, holding out my hand. "Good-bye." "Say au revoir," he replied. "I shall surely see you at to-night's performance." And so we parted. On the way down the Strand, back to my rooms, I met the property-man, who was evidently waiting for me. "Excuse me, miss," said he, "but you saw?" "Saw what?" said I. "How he called me down about the Marie Antoinette poker?" he replied, nervously. "Yes," said I, "I did." "Well, it was all arranged beforehand, miss, so that you would be impressed by his love for and careful attention to details. That's all," said he. "We other fellers at the Lyceum has some pride, miss, and we wants you to understand that S'rennery isn't the only genius on the programme, by good long odds. It's not knowin' that that made her Majesty the Queen make her mistake." "I didn't know, Mr. Henderson, that her Majesty had made a mistake," said I, coldly. "Well, she did, miss. She knighted S'rennery as a individual, when she'd ought to have knighted the whole bloomin'[Pg 103] [Pg 104] theaytre. There's others than him as does it!" he observed, proudly. "King Somebody knighted a piece of steak. Why couldn't the Queen knight the theaytre?" Which struck me as an idea of some force, although I am a great admirer[Pg 105] of a man who, like Sir Henry, can dominate an institution of such manifest excellence. <hr class="chap" /> [Pg 106] [Pg 107] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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