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 colored 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 appointed. “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 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. Gangs of men were clearing the track, flinging up the snow on both sides of the road in solid shovelfuls. The white dÉbris 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 as far as the eye could see, with a white foreground, the line of the horizon dotted with the dark configuration 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 wharves, where steamers and boats of all kinds were frozen up, were the remains of an old hotel, that had been burnt out a short time previously. The thermometer stood at twenty degrees below zero. A first glance at the place, from a short distance, showed a house with what looked like packs of wool thrust out at the windows, and great bundles and entanglements of wool hanging down to the ground from eaves and window-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 been 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 overclean, 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 wagons drawn by teams of mules, driven by colored drivers, that is continually 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. The greyish-blue of the cloth and the red linings, toned down to rare “symphonies” of worn color, 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 wagons, 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 Jan. 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.”[42] The event was regarded as of so much 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 lodge-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 artistically hung at each end of the hall. Two handsome crayon portraits of Irving and Miss Terry were displayed 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 platforms at either end of the hall were decorated with 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 Maddern, 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 inclined to be sombre and solemn, but immediately assumed a pleasant expression when he was introduced to the ladies and gentlemen who had assembled to do him honor.” 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 intermingled with the crowd. Says the local chronicler:—

Miss Terry was the soul of life and animation. When she was not chatting gayly 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, etc., 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 jewelry were gold bracelets and a pearl necklace. On her bosom she wore a bunch of natural flowers.

After a half an hour or so spent in conversation and promenading 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 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 dispersed.

Upwards of five hundred hosts and guests were present. Among those present[43] were Mr. and Mrs. Wm. H. Thomson, Mr. and Mrs. Albert Todd, Mr. and Mrs. Gus. Ewing, Mr. and Mrs. C. M. Whitney, Mr. and Mrs. J. W. Norton, Mr. and Mrs. Jos. F. Foy, Mr. and Mrs. A. S. Aloe, Mr. and Mrs. Wm. Walsh, Judge McKeighan and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Geo. H. Small, Mr. and Mrs. A. D. Cooper, Mr. and Mrs. E. B. Leigh, Mr. and Mrs. H. Clay Pierce, Miss Alice B. Hart, Mr. and Mrs. R. B. Dakin, Mr. and Mrs. T. W. Wood, Mrs. R. E. Collins, Mrs. C. H. Tyler, Mrs. Bradford Allen, Judge W. C. Jones and wife, Mrs. and Mrs. A. A. Mermod, Mrs. Garlick, of Galveston, Rev. John Snyder, Rev. Father Betts, Mr. and Mrs. Home, Mr. and Mrs. E. R. Norris, Rev. Dr. Sonneschein, Mr. and Mrs. G. Lamar Collins, Mr. and Mrs. H. Clay Sexton, Miss Georgiana MacKenzie, Miss Florence Bevis, Miss Lizzie Bautz, Miss Julia Dean, Miss Kimball, Miss Bogy, Miss Lizzie Reed, Miss Adele Picot, Miss Waples, of Alton, Miss Francis, Miss Roland, of Danville, Ky., Miss Pallen, Miss Olive Harding, Miss Agnes Farrar, Miss Wagstaff, of Kansas City, Miss Ione Aglar, Mr. and Mrs. Blachly, Mr. and Mrs. D. B. Taylor, Miss Bissell, Mr. and Mrs. F. W. Coulter, Miss Fairchild, Mrs. Cramer, Miss Ettie Isaacs, Mr. and Mrs. J. N. Norris, Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Schnaider, Mrs. and Mrs. J. W. Paramore, and Messrs. John A. Dillon, John M. Harney, Charles R. Pope, Dr. P. S. O’Reilly, D. R. Francis Fred Schmiding, John H. Overall, P. Short, B. H. Engelke, R. Maddern, A. F. Shapleigh, Jr., A. C. Bernays, J. J. Kerns, R. W. Humes, H. A. Diamant, W. C. Steigers, John G. Chandler, R. D. Delano, C. M. Napton, W. C. Jones, L. A. Clark, C. D. Colman, L. D. Picot, H. L. Haydel, I. R. Adams, F. A. Beusberg, C. R. Chambers, W. C. Coppleston, John P. Ellis, E. P. Andrews, Louis H. Jones, James H. Palser, Geo. R. Kirgin, Gideon Bantz, John McHenry, Chas. E. Ware, N. M. Ludlow, A. G. Thompson, Col. John M. Bacon, J. L. Isaacs, T. J. Bartholow, Philip Brockman, R. Harbison, A. L. Berry, David Davison, F. W. Humphrey, Chas. F. Joy, E. V. Walsh, G. W. Blachly, John J. Meeker, Atwood Vane, David Prince, A. C. Stocking, H. D. Wilson, C. P. Mason, Henry Ames, H. J. McKellops, J. N. Norris, M. J. Steinberg, C. H. Buck, Jr., D. B. Dakin, Gaston Meslier, E. W. Lansing, Estill McHenry, Dr. T. E. Holland, R. W. Goisan, W. H. Horner, R. J. Delano, Ernest Albert, John J. Pierson, E. B. Leigh, D. H. Stelgers, John A. Scholten, Mr. Sands and ladies, A. C. Bernays and lady, C. D. Johnson, Louis McCall, Arthur H. Merrill, R. W. Shapleigh, D. R. Francis, Charles Wezler, James Hopkins, F. L. Ridgely, J. B. Greensfelder, Meyer Goldsmith, Henry W. Moore.

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 complimenting 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.”

III.

Two weeks were spent between St. 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 audiences, cordial in their reception of us, and flattering 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 generally 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 ring? Well, the show-streets of these cities remind me of a concentrated Bull ring in Birmingham, where ‘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.’”

“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 have 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 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 England 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.[44] The city is very picturesque, 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 expressing fears that the place would be flooded, as it had been a year or two previously.[45] There is a German quarter. 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.[46] The sudden rises of the Ohio appear to be the chief drawback. 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 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 neighbor, 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,[47] while the General Assembly and Senate were sitting. If one were a politician, I can imagine nothing more interesting 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 explained 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-speculators; while at Philadelphia, and at Boston, I believe, there is a law against speculators selling tickets on the sidewalks. 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 misdemeanor. English, and indeed European, travellers generally, who have had no experience of America, can have no conception of the way in which baggage is treated; 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,’ 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 here to break them up, and in a country which has invented the best system of ‘expressing’ and delivering baggage known to modern travel,—to me this is incomprehensible.

“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 comfortable houses of the entire tour. The colored 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 ‘Columbus 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?”