Complete Works of Bram Stoker (666 page)

Sir Henry and Lady Blake

Perry Belmont

Charles Warner

Mr. and Mrs. Sydney Pawling

Flag-Lieut. Potter, U.S.N.

Gaston Mayer

C. M. Lowne

Dr. Du Bois, U.S.N.

Earl and Countess of Winchilsea

Louis Engel

Philip Carr

H. C. Horton

Gerald Maxwell

Lady Marjorie Gordon

Mrs. Tennant

G. Shelton

Mrs. Franklin

Thomas Nast

Sir John Hassard

W. G. Wills

Sir Lepel and Lady Griffin Dr. and Mrs. Todhunter Lady Alix Egerton J. W. Arrowsmith William Telbin George Derlacher Mr. and Mrs. Dion Boucicault Edith Craig

Lieut. Bailey, U.S.N. Maurice Grau Joseph Bennett Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert Hare Lord Emlyn T. Reynolds

Mr. and Mrs. Cecil Raleigh

Mr. and Mrs. F. Tennant

Mr. and Mrs. F. Tyars

Mr. and Mrs. H. B. Stanford

Julian Ralph

John T. Raymond

Lady Blomfeld

Misses Hepworth Dixon

Herbert Schmalz

Dutton Cook

Sir Arnold White

James Mortimer

Colin Hunter, A.R.A., and Mrs.

Hunter Thomas MacQuoid Katherine S. MacQuoid Forbes Winslow Sir Edwin Arnold W. B. Maxwell Commander Hodge, U.S.N. J. D. Beveridge Samuel Elliott

CHAPTER XXXV

VISITS OF FOREIGN WARSHIPS I

WHEN, in May 1894, the United States cruiser Chicago came to London whilst making her cruise of friendly intent, there was of course a warm-hearted greeting. Admiral Erben was the very soul of geniality and Captain Mahan was, through his great work on The Sea Power of England, himself a maker of history. At the banquet given to them in St. James’s Hall, Irving, though nominally present, was unable to attend as he had to play at the Lyceum, but he made a point of my going. He felt that all that could possibly be done to cement the good feeling between Great Britain and America was the duty of every Englishman  —  even the least of them.

At the banquet, on the end of the hall was the legend in gigantic letters:

“BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER”

  —  the phrase that became historic when Admiral Erben was in China. It will be remembered that whilst a flotilla of British boats were attacking a fort on the river and had met a reverse they were aided by the crew of the American ship of war. They were on a mud flat at the mercy of the Chinese, who were wiping them out. But the crew of the neutral vessel  —  unaided by their officers, who had of course to show an appearance of neutrality in accord with the wisdom of international law  —  put off their boats and took them off. On protest being made, the answer was given in the above phrase.

Through me Irving conveyed a warm invitation to all the officers to come to the Lyceum to see the play and stop for supper in the Beefsteak Room. They all came except Captain Mahan, who had to be away at an engagement out of London. It was a delightful evening for us all and many a new friendship began.

In addition to the officers, Irving had asked the whole crew of the Chicago to come to the play in such numbers and on such nights as might be possible. They came on three different nights. Each party came round to the office to have a drink  —  and a very remarkable thing it was considering that, except the petty officers, they were all ordinary seamen, marines and stokers, though they had everything that was drinkable to choose from  —  for Irving wished them to have full choice of the best  —  no man would take a second drink! They had evidently made some rule of good manners amongst themselves. A fine and hearty body of men they were  —  and with good memories one and all. For ten years afterwards  —  right up to the end of our last tour  —  there was hardly a week during our American touring that some of that crew did not come to make his greeting.

The return party to the ship came on Sunday, June 3, when we went to lunch on board the Chicago. Irving took with him Toole, Major Ricarde-Seaver and Thomas Nast, the American cartoonist, who had been at the supper at the Lyceum. We went down to Gravesend, where the vessel lay, and were met by the younger officers who brought us on board. There welcome reigned. It shone in the eyes of every man on the ship, from the Admiral down. The men on parade looked as if only the hold of discipline restrained them as Irving passed by with words of kindly greeting. We had a delightful time. One little incident in which I was myself a participant marked a certain difference in the discipline of the navies of Britain and America. At lunch when I refused wine  —  being gouty  —  I was asked what I would like. When I said a whisky-and-soda, the officer, in whose charge I was, said with his face fallen:

“I am very sorry old chap, but you can’t have that. Spirits are not allowed to be drunk in our Navy.” Of course I said it did not matter; that I would take a glass of wine. This was poured out for me and stood by me. We were speaking of something else when the officer on the other side of me said suddenly:

“Look here, what’s wrong with you? You are quite pale! Are you not well? “ I certainly felt anything but pale on that burning June day. The heat of the sun on the water seemed to make its way in through the open ports. But when he said I was, I waited developments. The officer, who was regarding me with much concern, turned to the man who was waiting on us and said:

“Tell the Quarter-master to ask the doctor to come here! “ The doctor came. “ I am afraid Bram Stoker is not well,” he said. “ Hadn’t you better look to him! “ The doctor felt my pulse, and with a glance at the as yet untouched wine beside me took out his note-book and wrote a prescription which he handed to the Quartermaster to have sent to the Apothecary.

Presently the dose was brought to me. I don’t of course know what it was, but it tasted exceedingly like whisky-and-soda! In justice to the skill of my physician and the concern of my hosts I may say that I certainly felt better after I had, by degrees, swallowed it.

When late in the afternoon we were returning on shore, the whole crew were on deck. I do not believe there was a man on board who was not there. If the greeting was hearty, the farewell was touching. We had got into the boat and were just clearing the vessel, we waving our hats to those behind, when there burst out a mighty cheer, which seemed to rend the air like thunder. It pealed over the water that still Sabbath afternoon and startled the quiet folk on the frontages at Gravesend. Cheer after cheer came ringing and resonant with a heartiness that made one’s blood leap. For there is no such sound in the world as that full-throated Anglo-Saxon cheer which begins at the heart  —  that inspiring, resolute, intentional cheer which has through the memory of ten thousand victories and endless moments of stress and daring become the heritage of the race.

Before the Chicago left London, a little deputation came one evening to the Lyceum from the crew. To Irving they presented a fine drawing in water-colour of their ship, together with a silver box with an Address written and illuminated by themselves. It was a hearty document, redolent of the memories of crossing the Line and such quaint conceits as the deep water seaman loves.

I value dearly their gift to myself; a beautiful walking-stick of zebra-wood and silver, of which the inscription runs:

“Presented to Bram Stoker, Esq.

By the crew of U.S. Chicago, 1894.”

II

Three years after the visit of the Chicago-1897- another warship came on a similar friendly mission.

This was the battleship Fuji, of the Japanese Navy. In those days Japan was just beginning to step from her sun-lit shores down into the great world. She had awakened to the need for self-protection and had manifested her fighting power with modern weapons in the capture of Port Arthur. Captain Mimra, who commanded the Fuji, had been appointed Commandant of the fortress-city after the capture.

Irving thought it would be hospitable to ask the visitors to the play. On the night of April 2, Captain Mimra and his officers came. The play then running, Richard III., was one that took up Irving’s time from first to last during the evening so that it was not possible for him to have the privilege of meeting his guests personally. So I had to be deputy host. The party sat in the Royal box and the one next to it, the two boxes having been made into one for the occasion. After the third act of the play we all went into the “ Prince of Wales’s Room “  —  the drawing-room attached to the Royal box  —  and drank a glass of wine together to a toast which was prophetic:

“England and Japan!”

CHAPTER XXXVI

IRVING’S LAST RECEPTION AT THE LYCEUM

The Queens Jubilee, 1887  —  The Diamond Jubilee, 1888  —  The King’s Coronation, 1902

I

AT the time of the Queen’s Jubilee in 1887, Irving had something to do in the celebration in a histrionic way. He was able to make welcome at the Lyceum and to entertain individually many of those who came from over seas to do honour to the occasion. The only act of general service which came within his power was to lend the bells which were played in Hyde Park on the occasion of the Children’s Jubilee. These were the “ hemispherical “ bells which had been founded for the production of Faust, and were the largest of the kind that had ever been made. On that day it seemed as though the carillon sounded all over London.

II

Ten years later, when the “ Diamond “ Jubilee was kept, much more attention was paid to the Colonial and Indian guests than had ever been done before. The Nation had waked to the importance of the “Dependencies,” and the representatives of these were treated with all due honour. Irving, thinking like many others that it would be well that private hospitalities given in general form might suppli-ment the public functions, gave a special matinee performance on June 25 for the troops of all kinds which had been sent to represent the various parts of the Empire. The authorities fell in with the plan so thoroughly that he was encouraged to add to his service of hospitality a reception on the stage after the play on the night of June 28. To this came all the Colonial Premiers, and all those Indian Princes and such persons of local distinction throughout the world as had been named on the official lists, and all the officers taking a part in the proceedings. Besides these were a host of others, amongst whom were a large number of representatives of literature and the various arts.

III

When, in 1902, the time of the Coronation was approaching and matters were being organised for a fitting welcome to the guests of the nation, Irving, remembering the success of his little effort of five years before and the official approval of it, wrote to the Lord Chamberlain to ask if it would be in accordance with the King’s wishes that the stage reception should be repeated. His Majesty not only approved of the idea, but commanded that the matter should be taken up by the Indian and the Colonial Offices, so that those high officials in charge of the public arrangements might have the date of the reception placed on the official list of “ informal formalities.” This meant that a special date was to be made certain for the occasion and that the nation’s guests would attend in force. There were so many events of social importance close to the time fixed for the Coronation that there was a certain struggle for dates. Those hosts were supposed to be happy who secured that which they wished. Our date was fixed for the night of Thursday, July 3.

When, on June 26, the ceremony of the Coronation was postponed on account of the dangerous illness of the King, it was made known formally that it was His Majesty’s expressed wish that all the functions of hospitality to the guests should go on as arranged. In Irving’s case much pains had been taken officially. Sir William Curzon Wyllie, of the Political Department of the India Office, and Sir William Baillie-Hamilton, at the Colonial Office, arranged matters.

When the night of July 3 arrived all possible preparations had been made at the Lyceum. As the function was to take place after the audience had gone there would be little time to spare and we had to provide against accidents and hitches of all kinds.

The play began at eight o’clock and there was an immense audience. At ten minutes to eleven the curtain fell; and then began one of the finest pieces of carefully organised work I have ever seen. Everything had been planned out, every man was in his place, and throughout there was no scrambling or interfering with each other although the haste was positively terrific. All was done in silence, and each gang knew how to wait till their moment for exertion came.

As the audience filed out of the stalls and pit a host of carpenters edged in behind them and began to unscrew the chairs and benches. So fast did they work that as the audience left the proscenium the blocks of seats followed close behind them to the waiting carts. Following the carpenters came an array of sturdy women cleaners, who used broom and duster with an almost frantic energy, moving in a nimbus of dust of their own making. All the windows in the house had been opened the instant the curtain fell, so that the place was being aired whilst the work was going on. Behind the cleaners came a force of upholsterers with great bales of red cloth, which had already been prepared and fitted, so that an incredibly short time saw the floor of the house looking twice its usual size in its splendour of crimson. By this time the curtain had gone up showing the stage clear from front to back and from side to side. A train of carts had been waiting, and as there was a great force of men on the stage the scenes and properties seemed to move of their own accord out of the great doors at the back of the stage. On the walls right and left of the stage and at the back hung great curtains of crimson velvet and painted satin which we used in various plays. The stage was covered with crimson cloth. At each side of the orchestra was lifted in a staircase ready prepared, some six feet wide, carpeted with crimson and with handrails covered with crimson velvet. A rail covered with velvet of the same colour protected unthinking guests from walking into the orchestra. Then came the florists. An endless train of palms and shrubs and flowers in pots seemed to move in and disperse themselves about the theatre. The boxes were filled with them and all along the front of the circles they stood in serried lines till the whole place was in waves of greenery and flowers. The orchestra was filled with palms which rose a foot or two over the place of the footlights. In the meantime the caterer’s little army had brought in tables which they placed in the back of the pit, the walls of which had during the time been covered in Turkey red.