Complete Works of Bram Stoker (684 page)

Stavenhagen played, but as it was thought by all that Liszt must be too tired after a long day no opening was made for him much as all longed to hear him. The party did not break up till four o’clock in the morning. The note in my diary runs:

“Liszt fine face  —  leonine  —  several large pimples  —  prominent chin of old man  —  long white hair down on shoulders  —  all call him ‘ Master ‘  —  must have had great strength in youth. Very sweet and simple in manner. H. I. and he very much alike  —  seemed:old friends as they talked animatedly though knowing but a few words of each other’s language  —  but using much expression and gesticulation. It was most interesting.”

The next day Irving and my wife and I, together with some others, lunched with the Baroness Burdett-Coutts in Stratton Street to meet Liszt. After lunch there was a considerable gathering of friends asked to meet him. Lady Burdett-Coutts very thoughtfully had the pianos removed from the drawing-rooms, lest their presence might seem as though he were expected to play. After a while he noticed the absence and said to his hostess:

“I see you have no pianos in these rooms! “ She answered frankly that she had had them removed so that he would not be tempted to play unless he wished to do so.

“But I would like some music! “ he said, and then went on:

“I have no doubt but there is a piano in the house, and that it could be brought here easily!”

It was not long before the servants brought into the great drawing-room a grand piano worthy of even his hands. Then Antoinette Sterling sang some ballads in her own delightful way with the contralto whose tones went straight to one’s heart.

“Now I will play! “ said Liszt. And he did!

It was magnificent and never to be forgotten.

VII GOUNOD

Gounod came, as far as I know, but once to the Lyceum. That was during the first week of the season-6th September 1882  —  during the continuance of the run of Romeo and Juliet. He came round to Irving’s dressing-room at the end of the third act and sat all the time of the wait chatting; Gounod was a man who seemed to speak fully-formed thoughts. It was not in any way that there was about his speech any appearance of formality or premeditation. He seemed to speak right out of his heart; but his habit or method was such that his words had a power of exact conveyance of the thoughts. One might have stenographed every sentence he spoke, and when reproduced it would require no alteration. Form and structure and choice of words were all complete.

After chatting a while Irving was loth to let him go. When the call boy announced the beginning of Act IV.  —  in which act Irving had no part  —  he asked Gounod to stay on with him. So NO “ GREAT “ MAN 1 49 also at the beginning of Act V., when he had to go on the stage for the Apothecary scene, he asked me to stay with Gounod till he came back  —  I had been in the dressing-room all the time. Whilst Irving was away Gounod and I chatted; several things he said have always remained with me.

He was saying something about some “ great man “ when he suddenly stopped and, after a slight pause, said:

“But after all there is no really ‘ great ‘ man! There are men through whom great things are spoken!”

I asked him what in his estimation were the best words to which he had composed music. He answered almost at once, without hesitation:

“‘ Oh that we two were maying! ‘ I can never think of those words without emotion! How can one help it? “ He spoke some of the words  —  the last verse of the poem from The Saint’s Tragedy:

“Oh! that we two lay sleeping In our nest in the churchyard sod, With our limbs at rest on the quiet earth’s breast, And our souls at home with God.”

As he spoke, the emotion seemed to master him more and more; at the last line the tears were running down his cheeks. He spoke with an extraordinary concentration and emphasis. It was hard to believe that he was not singing, for the effect of his speaking the words of Charles Kingsley’s song was the same. His speech seemed like  —  was music.

Later on I asked him who in his opinion was the best composer.  —  ” Present company, of course, excepted! “ I added, whereat he smiled. After a moment’s thought he answered:

“Mendelssohn! Mendelssohn is the best! “ Then after another but shorter pause: “ But there is only one Mozart!”

CHAPTER LX

LUDWIG BARNAY

Meeting of Irving and Barnay  —  ” Flu§ “  —  A dinner on the stage  —  A discussion on subsidy  —  An honour from Saxe-Meiningen  —  A Grand-Ducal invasion

I

WHEN in 1881 the Meiningen Company came to London to play in Drury Lane Theatre at least one German player came with them who, though for patriotic reasons he played with the Company, had not belonged to it. This was Ludwig Barnay. The engagement began with Julius Ccesar on 3oth May and at once created considerable interest. I was present at the first performance, and was much struck with the acting of Barnay as Mark Antony. By a happy chance I met him very soon after his arrival and we became friends. He was then able to speak but very little English. Like all Magyars, however, he was a good linguist, and before a fortnight was over he spoke the language so well that only an occasional word or phrase spoken to or by him brought out his ignorance.

At their first meeting Irving and he became friends; they “ took “ to each other in a really remarkable way. Barnay had come to see the play then running, Hamlet, and between the acts came round to Irving’s dressing-room. By this time he spoke English quite well; when he lacked a word he unconsciously showed his scholarship by trying it in the Greek. Irving after a few minutes forgot that he was a foreigner and began to use words in the argot of his own calling. For instance, talking of the difficulty of getting some actors to study their parts properly, he said:

“The worst of it is they won’t take the trouble even to learn their words, and when the time comes they begin to fluff.” To “ fluff “ means in the language of the theatre to be uncertain, inexact, imperfect. This was too much for the poor foreigner, who up to then had understood everything perfectly. He raised his hands  —  palm outwards, the wrists first and then the fingers straightening  —  as he said in quite a piteous tone: “ Flof!  —  Fluoof  —  Fluff! Alas! I know him not! “ Thence on, Irving was very careful not to give trade vernacular without explaining it to him.

Ever after that evening the two men met whenever they could; in London whilst Barnay was there, or in New York or Berlin when they were there together.

II

Barnay often came to supper in the Beefsteak Room. Edwin Booth, John McCullough and Lawrence Barrett, the three leading American tragic actors, also became friends of Barnay, and there were many gatherings of a delightful kind. Chiefest amongst them was a dinner which Irving gave to some of the Meiningen Company on the , stage of the Lyceum on Sunday, 17th July 1881. There was a party of thirty, who sat at a great round table with yellow flowers. Amongst the gathering were Barnay, Cronegk  —  the stage manager of the Meiningers, Leopold Teller  —  a fine actor, George Augustus Sala, Alma - Tadema, Burdett - Coutts, Lawrence Barrett, William Terriss, Toole, F. C. Burnand. That the party was at least a pleasant one was shown by the hours it kept. We did not break up till six o’clock A.M.

III

Another delightful gathering about that time  —  one which became remarkable in its way  —  was a supper given by Toole at the Adelphi Hotel on 1st July. Amongst the guests were Irving, Barnay, McCullough, Lawrence Barrett, Wilson Barrett, Leopold Teller. After supper some one  —  I think it was Irving  —  said something on the subject of State subsidy for theatres. It was an interesting theme to such a company, and, as the gathering was by its items really international, every one wanted to hear what every one else said. So the conversational torch went round the table  —  like the sun, or the wine. There were all sorts and varieties of opinion, for each said what was in his heart. When it came to Barnay’s turn he electrified us all. He did not say much, but it was all to the point and spoken in a way which left no doubt as to his own sincerity. He finished up:

“Yes, these are all good  —  to some. The subsidy in France; the system of the Hoff and the Staadt Theatres in Germany; the help and control in Austria which brings the chosen actors into the State service. But “  —  and here his eyes flashed, his nostrils quivered, and his face was lit with enthusiasm  —  ” Your English freedom is worth them all! “ Then, springing to his feet, he raised his glass and cried in a voice that rang like a trumpet: “ Freiheit!”

IV

Before the production of Faust in 1885 Irving took a party, including Mr. and Mrs. Comyns Carr and Ellen Terry, to Nurnberg and Rothenburg to study the ground. On the way home they went to Berlin. There Barnay gave two special performances in his own theatre, the Berliner. The bill of the play is in its way historical; the names of the honoured guests were starred. The performances were of Julius Caesar and The Merchant ofVenice.

V

The Grand Duke of Saxe-Meiningen, to whose theatre the Meiningen Company belonged, sent to Irving an Order of his own Court at the same time that he sent one to Augustus Harris, the manager of Drury Lane Theatre, where his Company had played. Later on, however, when he had seen Irving play and had met him, he said that the order sent him was not good enough for so dis- tinguished a man. He accordingly bestowed on him  —  with the consent and co-operation of the Grand Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha (His Royal Highness the Duke of Edinburgh)  —  the Order of the Komthur Cross of the Second Class of the Ducal Saxon Ernestine House Order  —  a distinction, I believe, of high local order, carrying with it something in the shape of knighthood. Irving wore the Collar of the Order on the night of 25th May 1897 when the Grand Duke of Saxe-Meiningen came to supper with him in the Beefsteak Room  —  the only time I think when he wore the insignia of this special honour. Other guests at that supper were Colonel John Hay, the Ambassador of the United States, and his daughter Helen, whose volume of poems made such a success with the literati.

Irving’s first meeting with the Grand Duke was preceded by an odd circumstance. This was on the evening of 28th May 1885.

I was passing across the stage between the acts when I saw a stranger  —  a tall, distinguished-looking old gentleman. I bowed and told him that no one was allowed on the stage without special permission. He bowed in return, and said:

“I thought that permission would have been accorded to me!”

“The rule,” said I, “ is inviolable. I fear I must ask you to come with me to the auditorium. This will put us right; and then I can take any message you wish to Mr. Irving.”

“May I tell you who I am? “ he asked.

“I am sorry,” I said, “ but I fear I cannot ask you till we are outside. You see, I am the person responsible for carrying out the rules of the theatre.

And no matter who it may be I have to do the duty which I have undertaken.”

“You are quite right!... I shall come with pleasure! “ he said with very grave and sweet politeness. When we had passed through the iron door  —  which had chanced to be open, and so he had found his way in  —  I said as nicely as I could, for his fine manner and his diction and his willingness to obey orders, charmed me:

“I trust you will pardon me, sir, in case my request to leave the stage may have seemed too imperative or in any way wanting in courtesy. But duty is duty. Now will you kindly give me your name and I will go at once and ask Mr. Irving’s permission to bring you on the stage, and to see him if you will!”

“I thank you, sir! “ he said; “ I am the Grand Duke of Saxe-Meiningen. I am very pleased with your courtesy and to see that you carry out orders so firmly and so urbanely. You are quite right! It is what I like to see. I wish my people would always do the same!”

CHAPTER LXI

CONSTANT COQUELIN (AIN E)

First meeting of Coquelin and Irving  —  Coquelin’s comments  —  Irving’s reply  —  ” Cyrano”

IRVING and Coquelin first met on the night of April 19, 1888. The occasion was a supper given for the purpose by M. L. Mayer, the impresario of French artists in London, at his house in Berners Street. Previous to this there had been a certain amount of friction between the two men. Coquelin had written an article in Harper’s Magazine for May 1887 on “ Acting and Actors.” In his article he made certain comments on Irving which were  —  using the word in its etymological meaning  —  not impertinent, but were most decidedly wanting in delicacy of feeling towards a fellow-artist.

Irving replied to the article in an “ Actor’s Note “ in the Nineteenth Century for June of the same year. His article was rather a caustic one, and in it he did not spare the player turned critic of his fellow-players.

To the “ not impertinent “ comments on his own method he merely alluded in a phrase of deprecation of such comments being made by one player on another. But of the theory advanced by Coquelin, in which he supported the views of Diderot, he offered a direct negative, commenting himself freely on such old-fashioned heresies.

It is but right to mention that when, some two years later, Coquelin republished his article, with some changes and embellishments, in the Revue Illustree, December 1889, under the title, “ L’Art du Comedien,” he left out entirely the part relating to Irving.

When the two men met at Mayer’s they at once became friends. The very fact of having crossed swords brought to each a measure of respect to the other. “ It is astonishing,” says Colonel Damas in The Lady of Lyons, “ how well I like a man when I have fought with him! “ At first the conversation was distinctly on the militant side, the batteries being masked. The others who were present, including Toole, Coquelin fils, and Sir Squire (then Mr.) Bancroft, had each a word to say at times. Irving, secure in his intellectual position with regard to the theory of acting, was most hearty in his manner and used his rapier with sweet dexterity. Toole, who had his own grievance: that Coquelin, an artist of first-class position, late a Societaire of the Comedie Francaise should accept fee or emolument for private performances, a thing not usual to high-grade players of the British stage  —  limited himself to asking Coquelin in extremely bad French if it was possible that this was true. At that time Coquelin did not speak much English, though he attained quite a proficiency in it before long.