1 1 1 CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY DATE DUE int?^ibr» rj 32 Brief chronicles of "Bob and me"; W. B. Maxwell; Sir F. C. Burnand; Lord Avebury; Arthur Goring Thomas; Hall Caine; Labou- chfere ; George Grossmith, Senr. ; Maude Valerie White; Press picture of Archdeacon of London; H.S.H. Prince Alexander of Teck; and L. M „ 76 ix ILLUSTRATIONS Brief chronicles of The Duke of Rutland; Sir Gharles Wyndham; Brigr.-General Count Gleichen; Marie Corelli; Miss Braddon; Mr Speaker Gully; Adelina Patti; Sir Arthur W. Pinero; General Sir Bindon Blood, G.C.B. ; Madge Kendal (Mrs W. H. Grimston) . . facing page gz Unpublished poem by Oscar Wilde to L. M., 1891 Chalk drawing of H.M. the Kaiser by L. M. Chalk drawing of Mr Joseph Chamberlain by L. M. Beauty's Eyes by Sir Poalo Tosti to L. M. . Photograph of elephants taken during elephant kraal, Ceylon, 1882 Letter frcMii Sir Herbert Tree, 1908, to L. M. Brief chronicles of Mr George du Maurier ; Ruskin ; Sir Joseph Barnby; Earl Roberts, K.G., K.P., P.C, G.C.B., G.C.S.I., G.C.I.E., O.M., V.C, D.C.L., D.Lit., LL.D. ; Ellen Terry; Eugene Sandow, 1889 Letter from Robert Browning to L. M. Brief chronicles of Justin H. M'Carthy; Garter, King of Arms ; W. H. Mallock ; Oxford Univer- sity Boating Club; Rudyard Kipling Drawing by Phil May for L. M., 1894 . Chalk drawing of Winston Churchill by L. M. Drawing by Jan van Beers for L. M. . Souvenir of Paderewski to L. M. . Sculpture, Archbishop Matthew, by L. M. . Picture by Mortimer Menpes for L. M. Brief chronicles of 8th Duke of Beaufort ; William Terriss; Sir H. M. Stanley, G.C.B. ; Maurice Maeterlinck; Edward Fairfield, C.B. ; Sir John Millais, Bart. ; Gladstone .... 98 102 102 114 132 132 • >3 152 r )) IS4 r- 3> 156 )> 162 if 162 33 164 1> >> 164 166 33 170 184 ILLUSTRATIONS xi Mascagni to L. M facing page 302 Melba to L. M ,,302 L. M. by Hermann Herkomer „ 206 L. M. by Max Beerbohm ,, 206 Phil May for L. M „ 214 Brief chronicles of Sir Arthur Sullivan ; Phil May ; Hope Temple; Thomas Hardy, O.M. ; Harry Fumess; Lord Kitchener, K.P., K.C.B., O.M., G.C.M.G., G.C.S.I., G.C.I.E., EL.D., D.C.L., etc. . „ 228 Souvenirs and dedications — Sir Henry Irving; Sir Arthur Sullivan, 1893; Lawrence Kellie; Sir John Stainer, i888 » 232 Victoria R. and L, gift to Luther Munday . . „ 260 Two hundred autographs of professional friends (singers and actors) collected from letters . „ 262 A CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS CHAPTER I Anthony Munday and Shakespeare — In a London Office — Sea Days as Naval Volunteer — The Fire Brigade — River Police — Lon- don in the Seventies — My Hundred Churches — Music Halls — Dean Cowie — Rev. A. B. Evans. One Anthony Munday, a roystering companion of Shakespeare's who, according to recent revelations, appeared with him at the Police Court, wrote three books and some plays between 1570 and 1610. He had a brother a monk, and they both settled in Cornwall in 1 540, coming from Calvados in Brittany. In 1 599 he wrote a book which was at first published with the name " William Shakespeare " on the title page, but the ascription to Shakespeare was promptly withdrawn ! This is all I can discover, even with the aid of two friends at the College of Heralds, as to the origin of my name and family ; as the last visitation in Cornwall was in 1620 and my forebears for four generations, which is as far back as I can trace them, descended in single Hne ; so that at my death the race becomes extinct, I having no brother nor X A 2 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS ajay male relation living who bears the name of Munday. Mr Baring Gould, in his history of family names, says that Munday in common with all names that denote days and seasons or places, probably was given to foundlings. Whether or not this was my source I know not, but I certainly cannot trace any marked distinction in the lives or attainments of my ancestors. I shall refer in these pages to a book of " The Chronicles of the Times," because therein I find many quaint things. It is a sort of " Whittaker," written by this Anthony Munday about 340 years ago ; but it has no claim to literary merit. These, my chronicles of friendship, are written for my own amusement, and dedicated without permission, and certainly without malice, to my friends. My father followed the laborious, dull, and ill- requited profession of a schoolmaster, but worked hard between times, often reading half the night, to prepare himself as a competent crammer, and some of his pupils have attained distinction. We were dreadfully poor, for there were three sisters and my brother (who died) to provide for. Chill penury froze the genial current of my father's soul, but nothing affected the spirit of my mother, and she endowed me with her own happy temperament, so I was born with a wealth that, looking back upon, I can appreciate far more than aught else that the composition of the ages might have bestowed. I was born in Widcombe, Somersetshire, and donned my birthday clothes on loth March, 1857. We lived close to Bath, where Bladud is said to have been heir apparent to the ancient British king CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 3 Lud Ludibras 800 years before Christ. Where for 2800 years a half a million gallons of water at 120' F. have been yielded each day. Where history and gossip intermingled and came down to us through Pope, Ralph Allan, Wood the elder and Wood the younger, Catharine Morland, General Tilney, Miss Elliot, Captain Wentworth, John Hales, Sydney Smith, De Quincey, Elizabeth Linley, Sheridan, • and Beau Nash, and a hundred others that have Knked the past with the present. At all events I am proud of Bath, howsoever humble may have been my early association with the beautiful city of history and tradition. My earliest experience was reading the Bible to Mr (since Sir Isaac) Pitman in 1868. He had given up teaching and was the inventor of stenography, and was publishing the Bible in shorthand. To-day his name is hewn out of the very ore of commercial progress, for it is unthinkable how the world would go on to-day without shorthand. Working seventeen hours a day in a dingy loft over a stable, he was content to make a mere pittance so that he could pioneer this cause of progress, but to me the reading for hours on end (and reading the stops as well) was a sore trial. I read to him for one year, but thirty years afterwards the hateful, sub- conscious habit of reading the stops came back to me whilst reading the lessons at Lyndhurst Church. To my horror I heard myself declaim : " Here beginneth the first chapter of the Book of Kings, comma," and then continue: " In the seventh year of Jehu, Joas began to reign, colon." In those early days, through the kindness of my uncle, Mr Walter Slater, whose father was a director 4 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS of the Fore Street Company when Charles Morrison turned it into a limited company, I was provided with an office stool, and worked there in 1872 as a clerk. I nearly became Charles Morrison's secretary, and learned a lot of useful commercial technique, which has been of help to me in unlooked-for ways all my life. My Uncle Slater was the first real friend I had, and I think of him with grateful affection for all his kindness. Hating restraint, rule, and detail, how- ever, I soon threw up office work and went before the mast: that is to say, I asked and obtained con- sent of the Admiralty to serve as a gunner for two cruises on board H.M. gunboat Slaney and H.M. gunboat Goshawk, having first qualified as " efficient " and " trained man " on board The President, then lying at the London Docks. I Have forgotten most I learned then; but what I shall always remember is the delightful sensation of having once been captain of a gun's crew, firing two rounds of shrapnel and a round of case shot at sea, and rough sea too, with sea-sickness my tyrl^it. This was the procedure. With the gunboat at full steam ahead, a floating flag fixed to cross beams was slung overboard, and allowed to drift about a thousand yards. An officer on the bridge estimated the dis- tance by means of rifle shot and powerful glasses. He signalled this to the gun's captain below deck. All was silence; the seven-inch, six-and-a-half ton gun, cast loose, loaded and sighted by hand signal- ling. The attempt to take sight in a rough sea, with the ship pitching and tossing, and to pull the lanyard at the right particle of a second, is highly exciting. Bang goes the gun with a hideous noise jind quick CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 6 recoil; after rapid reloading, again we fire at a distance newly signalled from the bridge. Such was my experience on a man-of-war in 1877 and 1878. More than thirty years have passed since this seven-inch, six-and-a-half ton gun seemed to me a terrible nerve test. It pretty well shook me to pieces ; how then must it be with the guns of to-day's calibre ? I cannot think of anything more grand and awful than the nerve strain in firing a gun at sea. There is in gunnery exercise a test instrument which registers what is called, I think, the least personal error, mean- ing the least possible lapse of time between thought and action. In firing at sea a particle of a second makes an enormous difference in the trajection of a projectile. I fired three and gave quite a good scoring account of myself. Within a year, however, I had a curious experience : my brain failed to act smartly enough to save a life. I was absorbed in reading in the corner seat on the underground railway when a man jumped in as the train was moving. He slipped and fell between the platform and the train. During the re-switching of my thought from the book to the man there could not have elapsed two seconds, but though my hand was on him it refused to close in time. He was killed. This was the lapse of time between thought and action often put to a moderate test in crises common to motoring, and acutely in flying, of course. I was stroke of the gig on the Goshawk, whose captain's name was Bagge, and I thought him disagreeable. I don't know that I did much wrong, but he degraded me to the rank of cook's mate for insubordination. I paid him back, and 6 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS had the pleasure of seeing him gulp down, and up, a cup of cocoa I made for him with salt water. My insubordination consisted of keeping the captain's gig at Dover four hours longer than shore leave. I met some pals there. Everything, how- ever, is childishly joyous at eighteen, and the miseries were compensated by the enthusiasm of youth, the independence of everything, and the kindness of my old friend, chief petty officer Billy Burgin, who smoothed the way for me through many troubles. He trained me to race against another ship's crew for three miles. It was a tight struggle, sixteen-foot oars bending to an angle of forty-five degrees, and the back of one's head each stroke touching the thwart behind. I was the lightest man in the boat, but I was stroke, and our boat won. An intense dislike to the sea, which never lessened by experience, rendered it impossible for me to learn sailing or the art of navigation, though I have manned a yard-arm in half a gale. At gunnery, how- ever, in spite of the horrors of life in the forecastle and work below deck, I succeeded fairly well. I won a leading gunner's badge, and acted as second- class petty officer. After these cruises (I had not taken the capitation grant nor sworn allegiance) I went back to London and joined the fire brigade as a volunteer. Captain Shaw allowed me to serve under him, and once I drove a fire engine standing alongside him to a fire. As chief superintendent he wore a silver helmet. Ours were brass. I thought it wildly delightful to scream Hi ! Hi ! as we turned corners. One day smack went the whole concern, one of the horses having slipped upon the CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS X greasy asphalt. Away went the lot of us headlong, sliding in all directions. I came in contact with a hansom cab which was coming towards us, and was promptly run over across the chest. I know it sounds like a traveller's story, but the cab was going so fast that it passed over me very rapidly indeed. Although I searched in a scared way for broken hmbs and ribs, I was not hurt. Keeping the crowd back, holding the horses, and fixing the hose were the only parts I was permitted to play during the whole time, although I attended some thirty fires. Years after I met Sir Eyre Shaw fre- quently. He combined the hero and the dandy. I had a perfect passion for these privileged attachments, free from restraint, and enjoyed service without pay, since the receipt of pay stops one's independence. I lived on a barge near Waterloo Bridge, close to the Thames Police Floating Station and Royal Humane Society's Pier. Waterloo was known as the " Bridge of Sighs " in consequence of the number of suicides. It was then a toll bridge, ill lighted and lonely. In one year Burgin and I picked up from the river twenty-three bodies living or dead. Such sights tinge one's mind with a lasting hue, and it is not good to pursue the things that are sad. I bow to this reflection and pass on. It was a great excitement for our dinghy which raced the police and the Humanes to get first to the rescue. Generally in the darkest hours and the coldest nights, when human hearts were at low ebb, poor creatures, mostly women of course, jumped from the buttresses on the bridge. A splash, a scream, then silence which robbed us of all chance of finding the body in time to restore life. It was very 8 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS sobering, this experience ; often we inwardly hoped that the process of restoring might not succeed, be- cause of the very blankness of to-morrow's outlook. I got tired of the brigade and joined the Thames Police ; it was all night work, the inspector was very nice, and I found my services accepted in a friendly way. On many a cold, wet night I fell in with the regulars at twelve o'clock. (I could only work at night just then, having to earn a little by day to supply food and clothes.) Strict silence, and an air of mystery were the rule ; we never knew the why nor wherefore. " From information received " was all the inspector deigned to say; so under the shadows of bridge arches, or alongside barges we stopped, after long spells of rowing and silent feathering, to listen sometimes for hours. Down river various craft went silently by when even the slightest colliding bump was noted, for there was generally some mystery to unravel, perhaps a crime, though we were never informed. Once, when silently rowing along- side some foreign craft, the inspector listened at a port-hole, and after a time whispered some unin- telligible jargon. Immediately came an answer from on board, at which signal two hands appeared with bundles of cigars. Then at a word I changed places with the inspector, and he, with two of the crew, crawled up a davit, arrested his men, and took pos- session of a small cargo of smuggled tobacco. This particular information was received two nights pre- viously, and I blindly was a party to the trap. The inspector told me to wear my usual down-at-heel rags in which I loved to tramp the streets at night, and to follow him, but not to speak a word, only to appear sleepily drunk. I noticed he had donned a similar r^./jf /^-^ AUTOGRAPHS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS GRACIOUSLY GIVEN BY Victoria R. and I. H.R.H. George, Duke of Cambridge. H.R.H. the Duke of Edinburgh. H.S.H. Prince Alexander George of Teck. H.R.H. Princess Christian. CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 9 costume, and we both had our feet bare. The ebb- tide was just on the turn, and there was some mud to wade through before coming to rickety steps along- side the river near Ratcliffe, where a few httle taverns are still to be found. We entered one of these and ordered beer, and after smoking short clay pipes, he affected sleep and I read, or kept my head behind a newspaper. Soon there entered, amongst many, two men whom the inspector singled out for his special attention. They talked together till closing time, but in an hour he had identified, " from in- formation received," two smugglers, the same whom he so skilfully arrested two nights later, probably through the timely help of other police working on the day watch. If the inspector reads these memoirs he may recognise his erstwhile guest of the guard- room, where he often gave me a shake-down and went off watch. One night he left me locked in asleep, for it was too late to get aboard my barge, and the dinghy was not at the pier. The dead body of a woman faced me on awakening in the morning ; the new watch not knowing I was there had placed her near-by to await an inquest. She was young and beautiful, and wore jewellery and fine linen, but was never identified, and so closed, unsolved, another mystery of the Thames, another splash into the mid- night of despair. In taking part in these gruesome pursuits I followed a certain, perhaps morbid desire, to know the seamy side of Hfe ; especially did I long to probe to its depths the mystery of London, that wonderful city which shows so many phases, often of the beautiful, as these pages will tell, if memory will only help me. 10 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS Through my dear old friends the Chretiens, I came to know and love the Rev. Benjamin Morgan Cowie, afterwards Dean of Manchester and Exeter, through whom I gained the privilege of singing in the choir of St Paul's Cathedral, unattached, as a volunteer. There I met Canon Liddon (of whom later), and was treated most kindly by the new organist Mr (afterwards Sir John) Stainer. These influences marked a change as they rapidly entered my life, morbidity gave place to cheerier thoughts; the varied experiences of life have an entirely wholesome effect on the mind, and reflex on the body. All the intricate and complex rebus, so faintly described as human life, seems only part of one whole, intermingled, but never separate from one eternal mystery. It seemed to me that no Priest or Poet, Actor or Painter, could really succeed, unless in addition to academic technique he knew the world by experience. " Thanks to the Human hearts by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its hopes and fears; To me, the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears," I don't think I ever gained anything by book learning. I never really went to school, and cer- tainly failed to pass any sort of examination. The world was and is my home, my love, and she was and still is my only schoolmistress, indulgent and forgiving. She gave me all the holidays I wanted. I record a few. " Kick off at 11.45 P-ni." was the invitation to a few congenials, who arrived at the Argyll Rooms to celebrate its closing night in 1876. A really merry evening, it seems hke yesterday. We smug- CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 11 gled in a football, and sharp up to time I kicked off from the gallery; the ball caught the enormous chandelier, which swayed violently, the officials promptly turned the gas off at the main. Then what a flood of unpremeditated art the human larks poured forth, there must have been a thousand in the hall. A cordon of police encircled the premises outside. I had the football, so they singled me out for special attention at Vine Street, a charming offshoot of Piccadilly, and I was promptly fined. Years later I was frequently in consultation with the superintendent of Vine Street on matters of com- mon interest, but upon this occasion they did not consult me. I remember too the " Judge and Jury " in Leicester Square, where mock court was held nightly. I am none too proud to admit having once served on the Jury. The Judge was a man who styled himself Baron Nicholson. He had a tale to his name, so he gave it a handle to balance it. His summing up was of this order of wit or worse : " Please Sir, can you tell me the way to the Judge and Jury.-* " " Yes, my boy, go on as you're going, you'll soon find them." Milder but historical was chess at Simpson's ; a shilling a game commanded the best players in the world. I learned to play there, with cosmopolitan hangers on. I bought food at Hungerford Market, where on Sundays feasters on periwinkles and shrimps prom- enaded in the Arcade. Free pins were provided for the winkles. It reminded one of the Church Parade of later years in Hyde Park, but instead of 12 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS drifting into luncheon at our clubs, we took gauffers at Gatti's, two a penny, made of flour and water pressed between hot irons. The Gattis were then ice-cream vendors. Then they hired a railway arch under Charing Cross Station, and opened quite a swagger music hall and restaurant. There I re- member being introduced to two ladies who danced and sang with great efficiency, and in later life filled distinguished positions in high life with equal facility. I felt myself rather a swell playing billiards with Mr Carlo Gatti, who was so stout that he had to play every single stroke with the aid of the rest. These were the budding days of three others of the finest commissariat officers since Moses: namely Benoist, Lyons and Lipton, not to mention Gen. Sir Edward Ward. At the picture gallery a band played every night next to where I lived. I had become mighty solici- tous about my sleep. I missed the restfulness of the barge, like the tramp on the embankment who complained of the Savoy orchestra keeping him awake at night. Lyons (now Sir Joseph) would have made my fortune for me if I had had a little money to invest. In those days Charhe J and I used to lunch with him in Soho, and wonder at the plans that this giant caterer was maturing. Continuing about the year 1876, " Snapdragon " was the pass word at a gaming-house in Panton Street, and we had to whisper it outside iron bars, and pass through another iron barrier before we could get completely inside ; then the doors were closed behind, formidable sentries seemed every- where, the floor was littered with cards. This was CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 13 a gambling hell, which employed decoys, but I cannot write all there is to tell about this. Evans' was a dull place; quartettes and respec- tability with shades of Paddy Green, but it had its moments. One night at a fancy-dress ball Labouchfere claimed admission. He was dressed in the uniform of the Diplomatic Corps. His progress was roughly arrested by a policeman, who rudely alluded to his dress as not nearly fanciful enough for a fancy-dress ball. " How dare you ! give me your name and number at once." " My number is on my collar, and my name is Lionel Brough," said Lai, who was of course masquerading as a poHceman. (Poor Lai, old friend, has passed on since I commenced these memoirs.) In 1877 I backed myself to swim across the Thames at any point above Greenwich in my clothes, and won; also to swim a mile without clothes, and I won that. That year I visited more than a hundred churches in Somersetshire, Wiltshire, and Gloucestershire, walking no end of miles in company with a friend, to collect the inscriptions from four hundred church bells. My friend pub- lished a book on the subject. One word more about Cremorne Gardens. Queues of carriages extending for more than a mile were quite the fashion in those days. I was present on the closing night. It was a great scene, but the ambition of my life reached its apex when I took the chair for five minutes at the Pavilion Music Hall. In the orthodox manner, with a little hammer in one 14 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS hand and a cigar in the other, I announced the encore. " Mile Fiasco will reappear again if you please." Then I stood drinks all round to red-nosed men, seated at my table, some of whom were addressed as " my lord," it being the vogue then, at music halls, to scratch acquaintanceship with lords. In some of the leading music halls the public and the artistes were on the most friendly terms, exchanging smiles and signs, and access was easily obtained to the wings, without special favour, or even a pass ; and after the performance, one could go behind and chat with the artistes who wore very classical attire, but all these laxities are as dead as a door nail to-day. One may still " mix with the sharpers without getting sharp and with the immoral without getting moral " and see iridescent scum on foul water ; but much has disappeared with the old order, including the typical music hall manager, with a diamond stud and a circus-master manner. A totally different type of man, whose all-round capability would qualify him as a Dean or a Doctor, a Bishop or a Stockbroker, manages music halls to-day. The modern manager could not entirely fail in any class of work. Moss, StoU, Butt, Moul, Slater and others are good enough sponsors. They worked these wonderful changes socially and artistically. Then there were the fast clubs whose leaders, men of ancient lineage, were supposed to give the neces- sary impetus to success. The aristocracy of the demi-monde were then known by name and fame, and they used the theatre or music hall as the spring board of their triumphs. I can recall many whose names are known to-day, but whose graves are not CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 15 They were bitten skin deep with the theatrical and music hall tarantula, they cherished the hope of becoming legitimate actresses or singers. Art and Charity Concerts, and Bazaars helped them socially, and often led to marriage with either a fellow-actor or a peer. Then came a short life of middle class respectability or dreadful gilded splendour, a crash, or slavery to some passion due to the burning lava in their veins, then ... I know all this is outwardly different now; tim.es change, and the habits of men change, and the dull monotony of so-called fast life changes too, but only in outward semblance from the days and ways of long ago. Between three and four in the morning in the dinghy I would scull about the Thames and feel the mysterious charm of London at dawn, the unearthly calm that precedes the awakening. Or I would walk about queer quiet streets, transformed from the dusty din of day to the surprisingly clear air when the dust had had time to settle. Miserable night wanderers crept into corners to sleep waiting until the rubbish-bins were ready to pick. Then the sun rose ushering in the day, bathing the great buildings till they seemed framed in coloured mist, and the noise of the great world of London began again to resolve its myriad sounds into one single note, as many little thoughts in a large mind frame themselves into one principle. I needed Httle sleep and turned night into day, and loved always the impossible and strove for things I could not get, feeling my inferiority through lack of education. The world had shown me things, but what could I realise alone in London at seventeen with nothing definite to do. Even before these days, 16 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS on my tenth birthday, I think, I began my London. Someone took me to Astley's. I went behind the scenes and spoke to Adah Menkins and saw her as Mazeppa strapped to a well-trained wild horse, in no- thing but the flimsiest tights. The horse immediately bolted away through fire and water and carried with it this most beautiful woman. It was the sensation of the year, certainly of my year, for in 1867 I first knew love of form, a greater joy to me than love of colour, and I am deeply grateful to Miss Menkins for awakening or creating this dormant sense. With a quaint and devotional reverence I read all I could about her for years. She was more than a circus rider, but if some readers have never heard her name they will have heard of Dickens and of Rothschild, and of Swinburne. Dickens accepted the dedication of her first book and liked it uncommonly. Roths- child called her " the inspired Deborah of her race," for she it was who in a letter to the New York Churchman raised the protest against the exclusion of Jews from the British Parliament. But there were more sides to her character. Adah Menkins inspired Swinburne's unsurpassed song, his immortal " Dolores " lyric " Our lady of pain " (the first Hne having reference to Adah's seven matrimonial trials). " Seven Sorrows the Priests gave their virgin. But thy sins which are seventy times seven, Seven ages would fail thee to purge in And then they would haunt thee in heaven O mystical rose of the mire O house not of gold but of gain O splendid and sterile Dolores, Our lady of pain." One of these " seven sorrows " was Heenem, who fought Tom Sayers at Whiligh in Kent. W. F. y K O Z; D O U O a. K W K H <; Q z < K O K W K / X O (^ K H O 0- ►4 5 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 17 Courthope told me twenty years later about the affair, how the elder Courthope protested, how they blindfolded him and stood him with his back to the fight, and so on. All the actors are dead now. Swinburne was the last, and what of Adah Menkins ? She chose two proudly simple words to mark her grave in Paris : " Thou knowest." I remember Dean Cowie, then Rector of St Lawrence, Jewry, telling me a grim story. Travelling in his early manhood from one house to another, across a lonely moor, in consequence of frost and snow he was bound to break his journey and stay a night where best he could; asking shelter at a lonely cottage, a girl of beauty and charm opened the door. Her mother took him in, cooked some eggs and bacon, gave him their best room, and bade him good night. Curiosity prompted the Dean to look about and examine the furniture before going to bed. There was a large oak trunk, which he found full of salt. Wondering what it could mean, he scratched the salt aside, and there was revealed the face of a dead man. Numb and dumb, through the long, lonely hours of the night, he wondered what was the right thing to do, and decided to wait for the dawn. Then he slowly came downstairs, haggard and worn. He looked for the child, and found her performing her morning duties. He held the candles close to her face and looked into her eyes; they wore an ex- pression of pure truth and innocence, and looking in his she said quite frankly : " So you've seen grandfather ; the frost was too hard to dig his grave ; we are waiting for the thaw to. come, and then we shall bury him in the churchyard." a 18 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS Deeply impressed in my memory is another friend, the Rev. A. B. Evans. He Hved in the upper floor of a slum off the Strand. Originally a Welsh dis- senting minister, he came into the English Church and became Rector of St Mary-le-Strand. Subse- quently, through the Bishop of London, he received the degree of Doctor of Divinity. He was four feet eight inches high, and carried his tongue outside his mouth without seeming ludicrous. His stoop- ing posture gave him the impression of being a little hump-backed. His wonderful sermons were preached to empty pews. I remember a congrega- tion of five, one of whom was Mr Gladstone, another Lord Salisbury. It impressed me strangely to see a man, so little known and so frail in body, capable of drawing together and attracting these giant minds of the Victorian era, whose many differences in thought were as one under the spell of my little friend's personahty. Gladstone and Sahsbury were often there. They always bowed to each other, quite ceremoniously, but I never remember seeing them walk away together. Dr Evans became my intimate friend, and when, one night after our simple meal, I found he had never entered a theatre in his life, I told him that as theatres paid Church tithes, he had better try one. He accepted my invitation, and we went to the Adelphi. Will Terriss and Jessie Mil- ward were then at their height in the old Adelphi days. Tears ran down the little man's cheeks. His simple nature seemed jealous of this power and influence on the^tage. He never made comment nor wished me good night, simply saying when we parted, " I have wasted sixty-five years." Here is a poem by an unknown author. He read it from CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 19 the pulpit in fine voice and with such old-world dig- nity. I can see now this little Welsh dissenter who had lived off the Strand, but was never of the world ; see Gladstone also, with his eagle eye and his hand to his ear, his lips silently moving, as he followed the reading of these words : — " I sat alone with my conscience, In a place where time had ceased, And we talked of a former living In the land where the land increased. And I felt I should have to answer The question if put to me, And to face the answer and question Throughout an eternity. The ghosts of forgotten actions Came floating before my sight. And things that I thought were dead things Were alive with a terrible might. And the vision of all my past life Was an awful thing to face. Alone with my conscience sitting In that solemnly silent place. And I thought of a far-off warning Of a sorrow that was to be mine, In a land that then was the future, But now is the present time. And I thought of my former thinking Of the Judgment Day to be. But sitting alone with my conscience Seemed judgment enough for me. And I wondered if there was a future, To this land beyond the grave; But no one gave me an answer And no one came to save. Then I felt that the future was present. And the present would never go by. For it was but the thought of my past life Gone into Eternity. 20 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS Then I woke from my timely warning, And the vision passed away. And I knew that the far-off warning Was a warning of yesterday. And I pray that I may not forget it, In this land before the grave. That I may not cry in the future, And no one come to save. And so I have learned my lesson, Which I ought to have known before, And which though I learnt it dreaming, I hope to forget no more. And I know of the future judgment, How dreadful soever it be, That to sit alone with my conscience, Will be judgment enough for me." Dr Evans died in 1878. I was only twenty-one then, but I am glad that these memories vividly belong to me to-day. If you will go to St Mary-le- Strand, you can read this memorial on the South Wall:— " To the glory of God, and in memory of Alfred Bowen Evans, D.D., Priest, for seventeen years Rector of the Parish of St Mary-le-Strand, who, with quaint sallies of native genius, adorned the graver studies of the Divine, and the fervid eloquence of a thoughtful preacher. Having greatly beautified the House of the Lord, that he might the more hallow the Lord of the House, fell asleep in Christ Jesus, Whom he devotedly loved, followed, served, and preached, on the sixth of November, 1878." CHAPTER II St Paul's Choir — Introduction to Wagner — Engagement — An Unpublished Nelson Letter — Off to Ceylon — Tragic Death of my Frock-coat — Insect Life — Friends in Ceylon — ^King George as a Middy — Trials and Troubles — Failure of Coffee. Hovering between St Paul's Cathedral, with its quiet, reflective delight, and studying life in East London, sometimes bare-footed, I varied my exist- ence for two years. I was rather a prig, the incurable disease of boyhood. His joyous instinct for sport and games, alas, I lacked! I preferred churches and reflection. I can just remember before Stainer's time the slovenly way the service was conducted. Youth is critical, and enthusiasm is its best instructor. The Vicars' choral had a sort of freehold at St Paul's, and they enjoyed it. The then Vicars' choral, I remember, were Mr Fred Walker * and Mr Winn (father of Ethel Winn, of charming voice and presence) who told me he remembered the Halle- lujah Chorus being sung by one man and ten boys. Years after, I introduced Sir John Stainer to " Spy," of Vanity Fair. Stainer went through a coy pre- tence of shyness, but I was aware even then that * Mr V^'alker became headmaster of St Paul's School, and tells of a lady who inquired anxiously for her son as to the social position of the boys, to which he replied that so long as her son's fees were paid, and her boy behaved himself, no questions would be asked about his antecedents. 21 22 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS there are really few who dislike being caricatured, and fewer still who do not affect coyness at the suggestion. " What rage for fame attends both great and small Better be d d, than mentioned not at all." Sir John owed something to Sir Frederick Gore Ouseley, at one of whose lectures I sang solos to illustrate his subject. I also broke down from shy- ness and walked away blubbing. He (Stainer) was sanguine, cheerful, straightforward, always seeking the highest level in his art. He died full of honours in 1 901. In 1875 small troubles arose. I opened the door too soon of a railway carriage, which shattered the whole side of the carriage to bits. There was a big scene. Passengers became hysterical. The Com- pany sent me a solicitor's letter to Fore Street, claim- ing damages. I acted as my own solicitor and wrote this reply : " You have no right to build railway carriages that won't open in tunnels. Please rebuild either the trains or the tunnels for the safety of the pubHc." That was the end of it. About then I was nearly drowned in the Thames, as once again, many years later, off Mount Lavinia, Ceylon. The sensa- tion in both cases was quite delightful: visions crossed the mind in a flash, seemingly covering inci- dents of many years accumulation. Except for the agony of coming round, there was no physical pain. The same year Joseph Barnby introduced me to Richard Wagner at the Albert Hall, where I had heard between fitful slumbers all his works conducted by the great man himself. So far as I remember, it took about five afternoons. Wagner shook me by the hand absent-mindedly, looking beyond. I could see, even through the light of hero worship, that CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 23 Wagner was not great enough (who ever was?) to be indifferent to flattery and adoration, nor was he surfeited with the appreciation of an elect few. He was a ferocious egoist before whom ordinary mortals seemed spiritless. During this never-to-be-forgotten episode, a very large German lady seized him by the throat and kissed him artistically in the presence of the whole audience. The music I was too young, too stupid to understand — only the artistic kiss. I put in here Ruskin's opinion of Wagner from my friend, E. T. Cook's charming book: " Of all the bete, clumsy, blundering, boggling, baboon-blooded stuff I ever saw on a human stage, that thing last night {JPhe Meister singer) beat — as far as the story and the acting went; and of all the affected, sapless, soulless, beginningless, endless, topless, bottomless, topsiturviest, tuneless, scrannel- pipiest, tongs and boniest doggrel of sounds I ever endured the deadliness of, that eternity of nothing was the deadliest, as far as the sound went." All this was during the impressionable age, when those who have listened to the great can never again be quite as if they had not. The gaze into the starry heights makes us feel our little breed, as when a fool casts a slur upon the ancestors he de- grades, and then tries to preen himself with pride of descent. It is easy to think big things if you begin young; so difficult to believe anything when you start old. I never was a rash disbeliever, and the influence of Dean Cowie at St Lawrence, Jewry, and St Paul's Cathedral, of Dean Church, and Canon Liddon had made Christianity seem Christ-like. I risk a little in the effort to repeat, from a faulty 24 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS memory, some sayings of theirs accurately : " There are only two views of the power of healing through spiritual mind. Either these powers were not con- ferred upon mankind, or, if they were conferred, they were never withdrawn." This, said in the seventies, was a breath of primitive Christianity and a forecast of Christian science, coming from a leader of the Catholic Revival, or Tractarian movement, at a time when Gladstone was called a Jesuit in disguise. It was he who prevailed upon Church to accept the Deanery of St Paul's, which he retained until he died, but virtually declined the Archbishopric of Canterbury. He influenced the world more by what he was than what he did. He called the relation of sexes the passion of love, strange, extravagant and irrationally powerful, but at the root of all things in life, the worst and the best. I was often at the Chapterhouse and heard much conversation, though little was bestowed upon me. I remember my then intimate friend, Richards, who gave St Paul's Cross, and another of my pals in those days, the Rev. E. E. Green. Between us we col- lected for and presented the Communion plate, still in use in the side chapel of the Cathedral. Only if to share impressions and ideas is to know each other, could I claim to know anything of these saintly men. " One must know nothing at all who is not sensible of his ignorance." Under these diverse influences I first learned to feel things, learned that every character, however divergent from, or hostile to, our own ideals, has full existence, and equally varying sensations. Judged fairly, nothing is really con- temptible. Years of experience have tended to confirm this belief : " Plus (a change, plus dest la ^-5 ;K^e^ J ■- O 3 •- J U o S b o ^ -J „ == SZ.2 CHBONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 26 meme chose." Hence the step from the Chapter- house to the outside world of a loafing tramp was not so very great a stride. Good and evil overlap and cling together like woof and warp, and morals are often mere customs, the caprice of varied con- ditions. This seemed so then ; it seems so still. During the past forty years changes have taken place. An age that accepted Cremorne and the Argyll Rooms, thought " Faust " too advanced, and Rhoda Broughton's novels too Zolaesque. Music halls were banned ; so was opera bouffe by that very Patrician Society which to-day provides the stimulus for both on either side of the proscenium. In those days we all went to church whatever our convictions, and the position of the clergy was, I should say, at its highest and best. To-day the Church is admit- tedly grasping at the breaking reeds of dogma and ritual, whilst Science dares to see the Lord God walking among the trees in the garden. But for myself, the early days of solitude in crowds soon became unbearable. A change came over the spirit of my dreams, which brings me to 1879, a very happy year for me. I met Mabel Enghsh, and became engaged to her. Men cannot write grace- fully about their own engagements, but the first moment I earned money enough to keep a wife and my temper, we married. That was in 1880, and ever since then she has kept me in order, bless her! Her mother was in the very thick of the Indian Mutiny; died and was buried at Moulmein. My wife was a soldier's daughter, and this was well, for it kept her light-hearted through many a hardship. There are trials and trials, and not the least of them is the battle against money worry. Times were 26 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS hard against us, and we certainly had an uphill fight for years. A few words about my wife's forbears: Her father. General EngHsh, C.B., commanded the 53rd at Lucknow, and her grandfather was Colonel of the Royal Engineers in the Peninsular War. He died from a gun accident whilst in command at Woolwich, and was buried with military honours. My wife's mother was the daughter of Admiral Sir Francis ColHer, K.C.B., K.H., K.L.S., Naval A.D.C. to Queen Victoria, Admiral Superintendent of Woolwich Dockyard, and Commissioner at Green- wich. He was a middy on board the Victory, under Lord Nelson, and died in command of the China station. He married the fourth daughter of Thomas Thistlethwayte, M.P., of Southwick Park, Hants, a friend of Horace Walpole. My wife's great- grandfather. Sir George Collier, was Vice-Admiral of the Blue, and succeeded Lord Howe as Com- mander-in-Chief and Admiral of the Fleet for Great Britain in the American Revolutionary War. He totally destroyed the American Fleet at Penobscot Bay in 1779, numbering more than five hundred fighting and training ships. He was M.P. for Honi- ton in 1784. His son, Young Collier, when ten years old, had the good fortune to meet the then Captain Nelson, R.N., who stood by and befriended him all his life. The reproduced unpublished letter from Lord Nelson to the first Lady ColUer, one of fourteen, concerning her son, throws sidelights upon his position in relation to his superior officers. The present Lord Nelson gave me permission to include it in these memoirs. To resume, we were married on i6th September, CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 27 1880, at St Alban's Abbey — that is one year after my first visit to Ceylon, whither I went in 1879, during the year we were engaged, to estabUsh myself. My return home in 1880 was timed to allow of necessary formalities regarding the banns, and then I left England for Ceylon, this time with my wife, staying on the way out at Naples. I shall write no more about those three months, but continue my narrative from the time I first left England, July 1879, my first year in Ceylon, which was beset with worry and hardship. The firm that engaged me had closed their doors, and I found myself landed and stranded in Colombo in July, 1879. My hundred pounds, lent by Robert Slater, ,came in very useful, and I found a good friend in Henry Walker, the brother of old friend Alfred. I was saved the expense of Colombo life and marched up country within a week to Kukulu Korle, in the Sabaragamua District, about a hundred miles by road from Colombo, and some miles farther on a bridle path. A horse was to meet me half-way: I had to cross one small river, or big stream, on horse- back. Like an idiot, I let my box coolie go ahead. I had no idea he could go faster than a horse. Two days it took me to do the journey from Kalatura. At sunset in the evening I reached the bungalow, and found it had only the bare earth — no floor, no win- dows, one door at each end of the room ; a bed, a table and chair, the ceiling covered with cotton cloth fixed to the rafters. The first night I experienced the flapping of a rat-snake, quite harmless, though I did not know it, hunting rats. I heard their squeals as they got caught and swallowed. A note arrived the next morning telling me that my friend had gone 28 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS to Penang, and would be away about six weeks. I was to do the best I could. The tapal runner came with letters once a week. It was seven weeks before I got my first letters after leaving home. To spin out the joy I carried them unopened for a whole day. The first European I met was a chubby, little, cheery hangman, who was en route to string up a brace of murderers at Ratnapoora. I had asked him to lunch and felt very drawn towards him, till he announced his business in gruesome detail. My nearest and only neighbours were Alfred Borrett, Reginald Hill, Robert Bartrum and William Raikes. They lived miles off, across the river, and as the shell-horn call was at 5 a.m., and muster at 6, I had to go and return in the dark, crossing a river on a plank. The coolies thought very little of me, and openly laughed at my orders, which I read from a Tamil guide-book. In course of time, I lost my temper, but, of course, I was the only loser. There was little else than misery at that time, but a tem- porary lull in my book of Job was brought about by the occasional meeting of the Planters' Association in the district. There was then a sort of improvised levee, and I became popular in a day, by means of a frock-coat, which I brought out from home. It was a huge success! Imitating " Frigoli," I changed behind a screen, and so, in turn, did sixteen planters, who walked past the chair in my coat and bowed to the Governor. It was also worn by four bridegrooms, and paraded mournfully at two funerals. It's end was sad! One day I found it, buoyed up with microbic life, taking a walk by itself, so I shot it — the only thing I ever killed with a gun! In the hey- CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 29 day of its charm, it buttoned over the chest of thin men, and was worn wide open by fat men, and it suited any pattern of trousers. I mourned for it as for an old friend. During the next ten months I became in turn planter, merchant, pearl-fisher, gem- mer and estate owner; but I do not intend to drag the reader over acres of details which have been written about scores of times before. I had many jaunts into the interior. One night I arrived dead- beat at a rest-house, after riding and walking about forty miles. The door offered a heavy resistance. I had to force it open. There on the floor lay the lady who styled herself Teresa, Countess of Yelver- ton. Hers was an historical Scotch marriage case, which she won in the Scotch Courts, losing the appeal in the House of Lords. Falling upon evil days, we got her moved to Colombo, thence to the Straits, where she died from starvation; while " the whole House of Commons stood up to cheer Whiteside," the barrister M.P., whose eloquent oration had succeeded in quashing the marriage. In the meantime, I bought, with my wife's money, an estate of 360 acres — 200 in cultivation. " If your estate is any good for growing tea, I am a Ijuyer," wrote the great Sir Thomas Lipton in his early days, from his shop in Glasgow. But Carraga- hatenne estate was not good for tea. He eventually bought Dambatenne, Moonerakande and Layma- stotte, three of the then finest estates in Ceylon. In those days coffee fetched ^120 per acre, subse- quently to be sold in some cases for £^ an acre. The insects and animal Hfe of Ceylon are worth a moment's digression. A big chameleon, with a 30 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS tongue as long as its body, with which it catches its prey so quickly that the eye cannot fqllow it, was always about my place. Each side of its brain is out of sympathy with the other, so each eye has separate action ; for this reason, it cannot swim ; it rolls over. It calls to mind my little Gecko, with its padded toes, coming regularly, running along the walls and ceiling, to stop by the candle-light, where I was reading. The same little chap — it only had half a tail — came every day for ten months. One day I looked in vain for my little pal, but he never came back. You must go to Ceylon to see spiders, leeches, moths, ants, snakes and other reptiles, birds, leopards, bears, elephants and monkeys, as they really are. Should you prefer it, you can read Emerson Tennant, who says some fishes travel over land, others sing ; some cobra snakes sit up to guard your bungalow. After this the average liar may as well give up chronicling his fishing. Another pal was a tame mongoose — most curious in its ways. It would rush over a table crowded with glass, china and flowers, without displacing any- thing, satisfying its curiosity by a sniff at everything. We left the mongoose to General Macleod, at that time commanding the forces in Ceylon. He wrote us that, returning to dress only just in time for an official dinner, he found his tunic without a single button on it. The mongoose had taken them all off and hidden them ! They were not found till the next day, nor was the General's temper. We let our bungalow for a time, and, returning unexpectedly, found all our furniture packed in side rooms, and the deep indents of pony hoofs on the CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 31 boarded floor of the drawing-room. Our tenants had passed their evenings jumping over obstacles on pony-back. I asked my Kangani if anybody had been during my absence. " Yes, Sah ! one man with census paper. I fill in for you the number of coolies employed — 86 adults and 43 adultresses ! " (This is the original of a story that now draws the old age pension.) In the low country I owned, in addition to my up- country estate, a small plantation of cocoa-nut trees (but as I never lived on it there is nothing interest- ing to say), probably the most useful tree in the world, every portion of which is put to good use. The trunk is used for building houses, for making furniture and farm implements, and countless other articles ; hollowed out, it makes a canoe. Its leaves are used for thatching, the leaf stalks for paddles and fishing lines. The blossom in bud makes preserves and pickles, besides serving as a staple vegetable. From the pith of the trunk is derived a kind of sago, and from the flowers, sugar, vinegar and toddy, which, after fermentation, becomes arrack. The ripe cocoa-nut is a valuable article of diet. The white kernel produces a delicious cream, a good sub- stitute for milk ; while the oil is used as a lubricant for soap and candle-making. It is also applied to counteract the stings of scorpions. The refuse of the oil, or oil-cake, is valuable as food for animals and poultry, and as fertiliser for the soil. From the shell, drinking cups, spoons, lamps, bottles, fire- wood and even toothpowder are obtained. The husk supplies fibre for mattresses and cushions, brushes and mats, ropes, cables, nets, and even the harness for bullocks. The web sustaining the foot 32 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS stalks is made into strainers and torches. The tree acts as a conductor in protecting houses from lightning. Amongst those I met in Ceylon were Sir James Longden. He was Governor then. Hfis nickname was " Nahliki Va." He was a kind man, but in his time someone was responsible for formally inviting the Admiral of the Fleet to meet his own midship- men at Government House; and the midshipmen happened to be King Edward's sons. The Admiral taking no notice of the betise formally accepted the invitation, and expressed regret that he could not give T.R.H. Princes Albert and George of Wales shore leave. Great pomp and ceremony had been arranged for the Royal middies. During the even- ing the Admiral granted them shore leave for an hour. The leave was extended, and the ball lasted four hours, and Prince George (our present King) honoured Mrs Munday with a dance. So there ! Sir Arthur Gordon, now Lord Stanmore, was the next Governor in my time. He was known amongst us as " Thy Servant Arthur." He seemed to accept the twofold doctrine of personal effacement and official pride — to eliminate the man, whilst exalting the office. Dining at Government House in 1883, we were informed that the custom had " emanated " for ladies to stand in the presence of the Governor, because he represented the Queen. I believe this was the first time the decree had gone forth. Lord Stanmore, son of the fourth Earl of Aberdeen, is perhaps the last link with the famous Peelites of the mid-nineteenth century. He was private secretary to his father, who was Premier during the period of ON'E OF FOURTEEN' UNPUBLISHED LETTERS FROM LORD NELSON TO THE FIRST LADY COLLIER. '.«.■ ' 1 ^ 1.^ WS,--A ■JU t-^ c,^-^r .r.-^ A^> j"- v.^ L U Ivi^^*^ t.. ; 1 ; 1 '.X, ft'^u iV "tv- v 1--'. \l..., fv-luf-W V-^..- i--< / =1 - ^\ ;-.. u ' -"^"-^-'^ '-^- (.V~< ,- ■■^; ' --\o^ - "^ /- ■ ( . '^-- f^lxyi---^ tH-*-'. ^ u-U '' , t ■ '• ^ ■. i , '- '- J,' i;t.'. ,1 ^ i^'.-. „,..'^j, l.u'ClL, I'v.a. ^ ■^1 .■.,- ^ ('■'. ■■ U ^ ^; . - f . 1^ ■ - CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 33 the Crimean War. I have been impressed by his reading of the lessons on Christmas Day, for the last twenty years, at the church he buik at South Ascot, and have vaguely wished that I also could have blended the warm heart and cold dignity that won for Sir Arthur the planters' finely-chosen epithet, " Thy Servant." A remarkable case of forgery was revealed about this time. I was staying with one I shall call Mr A., when Mr B. called and solemnly unpacked acceptances in rupees to the equivalent in value of ;i^ 1 0,000, all of which he had advanced to a third person who had forged A.'s signature. The authen- ticity of the writing was, of course, denied. Where- upon Mr B. quietly tore up the bills, threw them into the fire, and bowed his exit. " Good God, man, you have destroyed ^10,000," said A. " The forgery was not your fault, and I demand the right to share your loss." " I am satisfied with your word," said B. Then there ensued a tremendous scene between two men, each jealous in honour. That is the story so far as I can relate it. Many duels of ugly passions have I seen and heard, but never a sermon so fine as this. The successors to George Wall & Co. of Colombo were Courthope, Bosanquet & Co., who offered me a clerkship in their office. In course of time Courthope went home. He gave me my pro- motion, and I signed for the firm of Bosanquet & Co., with full Power of Attorney, which carried with it the control over some fifty large coffee estates, owned by absent proprietors. Now, to be truthful, I must confess that I was not equipped with experi- ence enough for this promotion, but I was treated by C 34 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS the firm with the most kindly consideration. During this time all went well. We had our home, a charm- ing house in Bamblapituja, with a beautiful garden of four acres down to the sea. We went everywhere, and had a high old time, till 1884, when I got smashed up by a horse accident at Galle Face. During those years we had also our coffee estate in Matale, where we went for our holidays in the hot season, but alas! our troubles began to come, not singly, but by battalions. The estate was beginning to fail — suffering from the terrible leaf disease, a falling away of the leaf, which prevented the fruit from ripening ; and we, poor estate owners, suffered in consequence, from the falling away of the rupee. It sunk, too, to the value of one shilling and fourpence. Disaster was all over the Island, and Madame de Sevigne's prophecy almost came true — that coffee and Racine would be forgotten together. In our despair we almost wished that the idea prevalent in 1650 would be realised, viz. that coffee would slowly kill and end the species by making men as unfruitful as the desert, whence that unhappy berry was first imported. We remembered the dreadful prophecy of the elder Disraeli, that coffee would cause the offspring of our ancestors to dwindle into a succession of apes and pygmies; but none of these things happened, nor did their contemplation help matters. Distress and ruin were everywhere. This caused the planters to develop their British qualities. It gave them twice their energy, and made them twice the men. At the time I write, they have risen from the faded glories of coffee, cinchona, tea and cardamoms, to supply the world's crop of rubber, and though my unfaded losses debarred me from CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 35 following the planters through all their vicissitudes, I can claim to have planted trial tracts of Ceara and Para rubber more than thirty years ago. Of more homely experiences, I remember estab- lishing the Galle Face Amateur Choral Society, and conducting it. I wonder if it exists now! And I served, as one does, on committees, and in due time, should probably have become a member of the Council, as most men do who stick to, and succeed in, business in a small colony. My friends were the Bosanquets and Bous- teads, the Reverends Mr Newton and Mr Boyd (now Archdeacon), the Ashley Walkers, Mr and Mrs (now Sir William and Lady) Mitchell, the Figgs, Duncan Skrine, W. H. Duncan, Thompson, Crawford (now Colonial Secretary), and last, but not least, my dear old friend, Major Ewing. All friends of those days will remember the stories that we told. There was D., in his fits of alcoholic forgetfulness, tasting the salt ocean — his only way of discerning it from the fresh water of the lake, to find out where he lived — the Club Bungalow where he then slept being on an island in the centre of a fresh-water lake, and the salt water on the other side of the Club. He would also tell the native cabmen to look at his trouser-button to find the name of his tailor as " the one man on earth who could direct the cabman to the last of his many transitory residences." The poor tailor had to get up in the night and refer to his book, and the cabman to toil over miles of ground, as he often went to many old addresses, and more than once slept in the palaquin carriage. In a long life he placed his platonic affections, but never by halves, and presented a fine edition of nature and art. He 36 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS died of a superfluity of boredom, amounting to bril- liance, and on his grave was written: "He done his darndest. What could an angel do more ? " The Burghers were funny with their pidgin-Eng- lish. They favoured strange, incongruous words and grand expressions, such as : " Silva is a great bowler, he bowled like lightning, you cannot follow also." " Rose Perera went to a ball, her brother told her not to expose, she exposed and deceased." " Did Ramasamy live here ? " asked the coroner. " Yes-suh ! " answered the coolie's weeping widow. " I wish to see the remains." " Fse the remains," said the widow. In native humour they were rich. I found them faithful friends and full of interest. My boy, a Tamil, hid himself on board ship, to be with me and wait on me when I was first invalided home. Coolies were imported from Southern India in very large numbers for field labour, as the native Cingalee will not work in the field for the European. So many races and religions in a small island is a great protection against the possibility of a native rising. Nevertheless there must ever be some element of discontent, when invaders make their money out of a country and never reside there them- selves permanently. As a money-making machine Ceylon has been often praised, and taken as a stan- dard of the highest administrative ability. But suppose that at the Norman Conquest the con- querors, instead of becoming Englishmen, had remained strangers, and had likewise brought over foreign serfs for a term of years, from the Continent, to cultivate the land, leaving the Saxon inhabitants CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 37 of Britain without means of livelihood, how would they have liked it? It is said, of course, that the people in the Colonies prefer this system, because they will not work themselves. The imported Tamils in Ceylon, and the Indian coolies in the West Indies, may be thought by some to be like the Irish coming across to assist in the English harvest, but the conditions ar.i not by any means the same. The results of the system speak for it, and prove it to be one by which no country can permanently advance in wealth, and no home of a people can ever be made happy and prosperous. The cultivation of a country is never on a secure basis except it be in the hands of the permanent inhabitants, indissolubly bound up with their family life, their interests and their hopes. I had forgotten to mention Sir Jacobus Petrus de Wet, a cousin, I beheve, of the famous Boer General, but without his cousin's large way of thinking. As he grew rather aggressive in Africa they made him Chief Justice of Ceylon, where he succeeded Sir Richard Cayley, of pleasant memory. This was in the early days of the Boer rising. Sir Jacobus, being very kind-hearted, once burst into tears when passing sentence of death upon twelve of the lowest type of lawless men I had ever seen. I was foreman of the Jury, and we were locked up three nights during this trial of a most repugnant case of murder and mutilation. I often think of the Chief Justice hobbhng into court, carrying his tiffin in a basin tied up in a red handkerchief. Well, too, I can recall to mind his wonderful prophecies concerning South Africa, given me in confidence, which would have greatly alarmed me had I believed in the possibiHty of their 38 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS ever being fulfilled. But they were! Good may have come out of it all, as it often does out of dark days of trial and sacrifice. Do you want a Ceylon thrill? Then see a forest of trees fall like a pack of cards, and watch the firing afterwards. The Cingalese, cutting with axes the trees half through, slowly mount the hillside. When they reach the summit there is much signaUing and noise ; then they break through the top row of trees, and the awesome result is Hke an earthquake ! One hundred acres of my own fell in a few minutes. Then follows a deep silence, then a hullabaloo of birds and beasts. Then see the wreck when the sun has been allowed to dry the fallen wood. Then watch the firing. The conflagration rages until the whole is reduced to a charred hideous mass. Into the midst of this the axe gets busy, to make paths, and the imported Tamil coolie commences his work of read- ing, draining, lining, holing, weeding and planting, till the transformation begins, and in a few years all is again green with cultivation. In place of the charred wood, the coffee or the tea plant appears, and we wait for the harvest to rise from the general decay. Mother earth, however, takes her toll in human life, when the newly-exposed jungle soil is brought under new chemicalisation by the action of the sun. Great depths of rotted leaves belch forth their pestilential breath. I know of one estate where the death-rate the first year after clearing was ninety per cent. Thus the planter goes on in his anxious life, subject to vicissitudes in a hundred unlooked- for ways. The weed is his most expensive enemy. Lady Gregory doubtless meant well when she intro- duced lantana as a flower. It has cost the country CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 39 millions to exterminate! Thousands of children do nothing else but destroy lantana. One may flirt with luck, but easily lose her. I experimented in rubber, and after three years could not find either the coolie that planted the land or his hut. All had been swept away to one level by a devastating flood! No boundaries remained except tree marks in unsurveyed jungle. Again, in the days when quinine was a guinea an ounce, I paid five pounds for a pinch of ledgeriana cinchona seed. I tried to pinch too much and the middle dropped away. I started sowing, and waited and waited till the seedlings grew to trees. Mean- while quinine dropped and dropped, falling from one pound to six shillings and eightpence per ounce. Then, indeed, I learnt the awful meaning of a " drug upon the market," for what was valued for me at ;^ 15,000, counted for nothing when I sold the estate some twenty years later. Read a little more about a planter's life. I have registered over forty inches of rain in Kukulu Korle in a month of clouds and heat. I have experienced drought and seen the leaves drop, leaving the unripe coffee berries to perish from the bleeding of the sap, and this in field after field, in the early days of that cussed leaf disease. I have watched the inscrutable atmo- spheric conditions kill one after another the experi- ments that I hoped might prosper. I have seen brave pals go through the whole gamut of a planter's trials and seen them lose large fortunes. I have lived for months On goat and fowl, and eaten bread as hard as plaster of Paris. I have paid a rupee a bottle for beer, and found it bad at that! I have found scorpions in my bed and poisonous snakes in 40 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS my bath. I have had dysentry and fever, and seen the natives die in scores from want of medicine, and gemmers distorted by explosion from their ignorance of dynamite. I have screwed down the coffins of friends who died isolated. I have been weeks with- out seeing a man of my own colour or speaking English except to myself. I have had every variety of horse accident. My first horse must have been trained for a circus, for he kept tossing me up in the air and sometimes failed to catch me. The worst was on a perfectly smooth road at midday, when both the horse and I fell whilst asleep. The most ridicu- lous was when all four legs of my horse fell through a wooden bridge, and my own legs also. There we sat and rested, he on his stomach, I on his back, and not a soul within miles, judgin^g by the time we were thus " slung " waiting. These are but a few samples of the vicissitudes of my life as a planter, pioneering in a new district. CHAPTER III More Ceylon Days— Gemming— The Rock Veddah— My Rogue Elephant — An Elephant Kraal — A Dangerous Accident — We Leave Ceylon. After coffee-planting, I turned to gemming. Gem- ming reminds me of a dear old lady who asked her Bishop how the little church could possibly have been built on the side of so steep a hill. " Principally by damming and blasting," repHed the Bishop. Here is my experience of a day's gemming. I started out with no track in a lonely valley, sur- rounded by miles of unsurveyed virgin jungle. The sun was quickly shut out by a vast canopy of beauti- ful parasitic growth, embracing the trees, and there- fore slowly killing them. Between crags and rocks a stream slowly trickled its way from the highlands where the coffee grew, down to the lowlands of un- opened jungle. Here were the gemmers, damming and blasting, as we soon discovered, from the sounds of startled animals and birds. In the deadly silence of a noonday heat, where the heart throbs audibly, where silence tinkles and buzzes in the ears, or is as searching as the " odour of music, or soothing as the perfume of flowers, for the cumbersome mantles of leafage is the surest stifler of noise, quite unlike the crisp silences of the seashore." There are so many sorts of silences — so few of speech. I had to grope from rock to rock. It was my duty to report the :4i 42 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS number of Cingalese, who paid a tax of so much per head monthly, to be allowed to search for sapphires. From the fallen leaves of ages, strange things crawled, and when the gorgeous midday sun peeped through in streaks, it made darkness darker by con- trast. How I loathed these visits ! Terrified by the utter loneliness, I was fairly scared once at hearing monkey-like chatter proceeding from a baboon-like object, which was only distinguishable as human because it carried a bow and arrow. I knew instinc- tively that I was within the reach of a rock Veddah. His uncombed hair looked as hard as wood. His emaciated form and miserable mumbling gave me notice of his coming. It is said that the Veddah can with his bow and arrow kill a bird on the wing. I hid myself and watched him pass into the darkness. Then I started on an eight hours' journey to return, and never again would I enter that pathless jungle for untold gold. When I got out into the open, I picked off my arms and legs quite a hundred leeches that had been shivering at the edge of every twig, waiting, I pre- sume, to fasten upon any animal that passed by through the thick undergrowth. The jungle leech is little more than half an inch long, thin as a hairpin, but round as a pea when it has finished sucking you, and it can pierce through any clothing but leather. It is obviously hopeless to remove them until you get free from the jungle, as others would fasten on whilst you did so. I learnt that the Veddahs are quite a distinct race. The skeletons and general organisation of their bodies are similar to those of the chimpanzee. These little creatures are said to have existed many centuries CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 43 before Christ or Buddha. Living in small groups, or in families apart from one another, they allot to each family parts of the forest to hunt in ; but when the rainy season comes round, they are brought together and live in grottoes of the rocks. They become sociable, and arrange marriages, and talk about things in their limited language. They recognise no chiefs, know no laws, and are almost devoid of any ideas. Among themselves they go about naked, passing the night on the moist ground without the slightest covering. Their language consists of Cingalese words so altered that the other natives of Ceylon cannot understand them, and partly of words which are apparently the remains of some primitive language. They have no sense of humour and can- not laugh. It is said that King Edward tried all manner of ways to induce a captured Veddah even to smile, but did not succeed. After this rencontre, I was flattered by Surveyor- General Stoddart, who cross-examined me in every detail before determining that the creature whom I had met was a Veddah. He added sadly, that the privilege had been denied to him, though for forty years he had practically lived in the jungle. I felt very pleased with myself, and for a time enjoyed the envy of my fellow-planters. Next I had a little experience of pearl-fishing. The fishers, as they fill their canoes, sell loads of oysters by auction. I bought a load, hired a bullock cart and tried to watch over it all the way to Colombo. I was a fool. As I approached the town I was met by the local drain inspector, who promptly ordered me and my load of pestilential decomposition to the right about. I got three ordinary pearls, many seed 44 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS pearls, and a dose of dysentry, which laid me up for three weeks. So I went with a friend to recoup my strength into the low country, and paid a visit to a great chief, Madamanweliya, who, with true Oriental dignity and hospitality, offered me his family to select from. My friend, of greater experience, was horri- fied when I took to selecting, and answered on my behalf in Cingalee language and proper formula, as one would in Spain, of course, declining the honour. To live alone, familiar with wild life, to suspect the poisonous intentions of every crawling thing, may have its sporting joys, but they were not for me. Lovely scenery and excellent sport there were, but I did not want either to gaze at scenery or to kill animals. Once I shot a monkey, about the only hit I ever made, bar the frock-coat. He wiped tears from his face with the back of one hand, whilst he staunched the hot blood which poured from a wound with the other. I felt much more inclined to fondle the little baby thing, so human in its ways. Anyway, I was quite sick at having shot it. I had one more sportsman's chance, and that was a first shot at a rogue elephant, which, had I killed, would have brought with it a reward of fifty rupees from the Government. This is what happened : Gor- don Gumming,* who rode his horse upstairs to bed and said it proved how sober he must have been, and who was perhaps the best shot in Ceylon of his day (he died of a punctured liver from an elephant's at- tack), offered me a gun, and off we went with beaters. After about three hours we met the rogue at, say, forty yards. " Fire ! " said Gordon Gumming. But this was * Sir William Haggard corrects me on this point — it was he, not Gumming. CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 45 too sudden for me, and with a feeling akin to paralysis in every limb, I blazed away, and — missed it1 Gordon Gumming shot it in the mouth, and it fell dead. I am told there are only two marks in an elephant that a single bullet can pierce with fatal results, one being a spot just behind the ear. This rogue was a magnificent specimen. He showed old wounds, that proved that he must have experienced terrible times and bloody wars with his rivals. On the chance of someone possibly knowing less than I do about elephants, let me explain that a rogue (and I dare say it is largely the case with the two-legged rogues) is a male grown sullen and mad through being renounced by all the lady elephants. They watch his battle for supremacy against another male, when both are fighting for the possession of the female herd. After the contest, female-like, the whole lot go off with the winner. Personally, I think this conduct is quite enough to make any decently brought-up rogue go mad. I told all this to Mr Roosevelt, when he was hunting wild animals in Ceylon, and whom Court- hope asked us to meet at dinner. Roosevelt thought I was awfully lucky, and as a matter of fact I think so too, for to miss an elephant and see a Veddah at large are the chances of a lifetime. Roosevelt was particularly interested about the Veddah, and cross-examined me as to his exact locaUty. To come back to the planters, I remember that an old pal of mine, at whose bungalow I was stay- ing, was entertaining a number of brother planters. Amongst many weird games they began firing pistols at a target through my door, so I quietly hung up 46 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS their clothes behind the door. Then I went out for a walk and stayed with a friend till the morning. Planters are rough in their jokes, though delightful in their manners! I have lived in many sets since those days ; but taking them as a whole, I never met a finer race of men. There was a curious shanty in the nearest village, with a billiard-table. The colours of the pool balls were worn off, so I asked how we could possibly tell which was which. " By their shape," was the answer. Human creatures are not unlike pool balls : they vary a little on the surface, but the texture is pretty much the same. We were not all teetotallers, and sometimes we were safer riding without the bridle ; when the road lies through jungle paths by deep ravines, when the night is dark, truly the horse is the man's best friend, so leave him alone to see you home. I was rather shocked by an elderly lady asking me whether I kept a harem in Ceylon. She said she thought one was bound to do that in the East or else get talked about. Men, all of different calibre, I met in Ceylon. There was Quinton Hogg, who founded the Poly- technic, a man of mild excellence ; another was that fire-eater, Arabi Pashi. The former I met when he was passing through Ceylon ; the latter in exile was a neighbour, a man of whom Labouchere wrote me in the eighties. " I very much doubt, dear Mr Munday, whether Arabi is likely to run away from Ceylon. His detention there, as a prisoner after the war, is probably a protection from his own enemies ; but it is not conclusive proof of legal power to detain him without a special Act of Parliament." From my slight acquaintance (he lived next to me) I CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 47 should have judged Arabi a patriot of not ignoble ideas, but limited intellect and of peasant descent. He became dictator in Egypt and proclaimed war with England. Lord Wolseley destroyed his power, and he was exiled to Ceylon, and after many years was allowed to return. Before he died he witnessed British Administration in Egypt ; but he himself was the indirect cause of it all. By a strange coincidence Lord Kitchener arrived in Egypt the month Arabi died there. Now and again we had a holiday, rarely, but the greatest and the rarest treat we had was an elephant kraal. This was in 1882, and was perhaps the best one of the century. It was given at Labugamkanda in honour of Princes Albert and George of Wales. How can I describe the cry of the native hari-hari- hari-hoo-00 ; their magnificent Chief Ekneligoda and his henchman; the passionate tempers of the European officials, because things were not going quite as they wished; the silent revenge of the natives, who, fearing to be debarred of their prizes, purposely allowed twelve elephants to escape a few hours before the Princes' arrival ; the consequent breakdown of the sport; the savage shooting of a magnificent cow ; her calf's pathetic effort at concilia- tion with the murderers by shooting or spitting water at the tame elephants? A thrilling incident was the anger of the solitary tusker (very rare), who four times attacked the Europeans till fire was used to subdue him. This elephant-capturing expedition, however, resulted in the failure to noose a single one of the captive herd on the first day. The cry was raised, " Caught at last! " but the old chieftain Ekneligoda knew better. Half a century's experi- 48 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS ence had taught him that you cannot noose a kraaled elephant the first day. Torrents of rain fell all the week, and our village, which we had built specially for the occasion, each having his own bungalow, became a muddy swamp. No civilised comfort, no change of clothes were to be had, and we lived for seven days in the midst of parasitic vegetation ; very beautiful, but a fever swamp. On the seventh evening some noisy visitors revelled at night, with the result that nine elephants, all timid by nature, broke through the lines of fire, from fear, and escaped after the misery of being driven for two months over eighty miles through pathless fungle. Starving and parched with thirst, the few elephants that remained were humbly submissive, or frantically fierce, until at last they were kraaled. Confused as they were, they consorted with the tame members of their own family, who were brought there to recon- cile them, while relying upon the defence of their one male tusker, who died furiously protecting his poor scared wives. They presented a truly pathetic sight. The mothers, wildly defending their young, tortured with grief, died some of them from sheer starvation. After the kraal. Captain Evan Thomas (brother of my old friend, Owen), I think it was, brought T.R. Highnesses to our little improvised bungalow, and they chatted and smoked and set us completely at our ease. That was the end of our week at Kraal Town, and I may as well make it the end of this chapter, for, soon after, in 1884, I was thrown from my horse, got concussion of the brain, and lay between life and death till I was able to go home. I was unable to stand Colombo, where the mean CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 49 average temperature, night and day, all the year round, registers eighty degrees. Henry Ewart, a staunch friend, took charge of my affairs, and, inci- dentally, the Governor ordered the road in which we lived, off Cinnamon Gardens, to be closed to traffic, whilst I was lying between life and death. That was the end of our life in Ceylon. We brought home all the little savings we could scrape together, and when I went to the banks to buy English bills of exchange, the manager of the Oriental Bank quoted a prohibitive price. As he had always been friendly, I could not understand this ; but when the pilot came on board, near Southampton, he told us that the Oriental Bank had failed. Friendship such as this counts in life. I was saved at a critical time from losing all I had by one who, without betraying the secret of his forebodings, or his duty to the Bank, simply prevented my buying by quoting too high a rate of exchange. And so, with a heavy heart, feeling we had failed to settle there, or to achieve anything real, we left Ceylon broken in health and spirits ; for a break- down is always more difficult to face than an untried future. Apart from sentiment, there was the loss of my income, and the crops were failing on my estate year after year, and our beautiful up-country home was thus closed to us for ever. Then there was the wrench of selling our pet animals and our household effects, the letting of our house in Cinna- mon Gardens, Colombo, and, worst of all, the good- bye to sympathetic friends. I think I have said before, and no wonder if I repeat it, that the men whom I had served behaved like bricks. They gave me a handsome bonus ; but perhaps they knew what 50 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS we did not, that the doctor's verdict was against my ever returning to work in Colombo. The few memories of the Spicy Isle have faded with the years, and Ceylon, over thirty years later, seems, is, in fact, a dream of wasted life, one in which I never shone, nor was ever able to pay back one half of the kind- nesses I received. Its experience served to build up some inner sense of reliance perhaps. I think it was General Gordon who said : " If I were my own superior, I should never employ myself." I felt upon my return to London something like a giraffe with a sore throat, or a centipede with corns. CHAPTER IV Woman and Donkey harnessed together in Malta — Search for Work— Some Good Friends — At the Academy of- Music — " How to Sing "—A Fiasco— Hamilton Aid^— The Gold Brick. The only event of interest that I can recall on the voyage back to England was that at Malta I saw a woman and a donkey harnessed together drawing a wooden plough. Whilst watching that patient pair I grimly reahsed that I, myself, must once again set my hand to the plough in earnest. Badly equipped was I to start the fight again in London, having only learned the things in which I could not shine or succeed there. It seemed unwise to face the long odds against winning fortune in the city, with no particular calling for any career, and bearing with me those melancholy evidences of a concussed brain, pain and irritability. We lived in two rooms, first in Park Street, Park Lane, then in Parkside, Albert Gate, and finally dwelt for many years at No. 4 Park Row, Albert Gate. These diggings we shared with an old friend, Mrs St Hill, President of the Chiro- logical Society, and the author of some books on the subject. For three years I never heaved a sigh nor earned a sixpence, and with renewed health we were both as happy as kings, if indeed kings be happy. I had nowhere particular to go to myself, so my wife's people, the Pitney Martins at Gascoigns, Lyndhurst, ^1 52 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS put me up for long stretches at a time. There I first met those, who, throughout their lives, never ceased to be friends, whom I can only think of as forbearing and constant through good report and ill report, who encouraged the best and suppressed the worst; and to whom, for whatever of interest and enjoyment became mine in the years in store, I owe deep gratitude. These friends were Hamilton Aide, Lord and Lady Londesborough, Colonel and Mrs Collier, and Miss Caroline Holland. Year by year, many other dear friends have come closely into my life, but none can encroach on these separate freehold mansions ; none mark the boundary of affection which grows as the years increase, and that has never been marred by any change of passing circumstances. It was first suggested by H. A. that I had a voice capable of being turned to account; so in a desperate effort to do something, at the age of twenty-seven, to the Royal Academy of Music I went, and there I enjoyed the first school and playground I had ever known. Sir George Macfarren was the Principal; and my fellow-students included Arthur Goring Thomas, Laurence Kellie, Edward German, Marie Tempest, Ben Davies, Ethel Winn, Julia Neilson, and many more, friends all. I never passed the simplest ex- amination in the theory of music, and failed to play the scale of C Major after long and arduous tuition ; but, I suppose, I learned to sing. The great Abbe Liszt played to us students at the R.A.M., and silly girls tore flowers from their hats to throw at him in artistic adoration. As he went out, I tried my scale of C, and was nearly lynched in consequence. Liszt was a fine animal CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 53 with an artistic soul. I was introduced to him by Goring Thomas, but was too shy to say a word. My friends thought it best that I should concen- trate my energies on singing. Accordingly, after three terms of general study, I left the Academy to be taught singing privately by Goring Thomas, Randegger, Shakespeare, Blume, Bethune, Kelfie, Tosti, Fiori, and finally by Garcia, who might have taught Noah. This is how he bridged time while he lived. Beethoven had not yet completed his thirty-seventh year, and Schubert was a boy of eight. Auber, Bishop, Cherubini, Dibdin, Haydn, Meyerbeer, Paganini, Rossini, Spohr, Weber were all living, and many of them had yet to become famous. As for Chopin, Mendelssohn, Schumann and Brahms, they were not even born, while Gounod, Wagner and Verdi were still mere schoolboys, when my master Garcia was a full-blown operatic baritone. Yet he outlived every one of them by many years! It is extraordinary to recall the fact that Jenny Lind, Malibran, Marchesi and Charles Santley all passed through his hands. After this it would not surprise me in the least if Albert Chevalier told me that Shake- speare taught him Hamlet. I also studied declamation under Miss Glyn and Walter Lacey. I dotted down notes of all the in- structions I received from these many authorities upon singing, and here I reproduce them literally : — Breathe diaphramatically, laterally and clavicularly, which simply means midruff lowering, girding the loins, and shoulder heaving. Do not sing in cold countries, as the tongue becomes rigid, but in the south, for round pronunciation. Do not smoke, or inhale fogs. Sing full speed ahead, with a lighted 54 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS candle in front of the mouth without making it flicker ; fix two boards to a wall, and rest your shoulders against them. Use a spirometer, recover your breath without signs of distress, squirt your voice like a syringe from the back of your head, never distort your face or figure, practise the laryngeal muscles every day, never sing in small apartments or large buildings, avoid all condiments, attack the consonants and float on the vowels, keep the tongue down with a spoon, sing koo-koo-koo-koo-koo-oo-o- ah to avoid throatiness, command the soft palate direct sound through the resonant cavities of the nose, avoid the cannon ball tone (this was Blueman- thal's advice), emit sound as it were from the fore- head, never sing before a meal, never sing after a meal, regard your audience as cabbage stalks, hum with the mouth closed, never sing in the open air nor on the water, and do not talk in the streets. If y ur tongue itches, your head aches, and you are giddy, all is well ; gargle salt water and blow it through the nose ; emit sound, as it were, through the eyes ; never sacrifice sense for sound, never sacri- fice sound for sense ; relax the abdomen, draw in the abdomen ; practice mobility by touching the tip of your nose with your tongue, and never weep ! Very well then, endeavouring to deserve the good opinion I had of myself and stuffed with all this knowledge, I got my first engagement. May 24th, 1887, was the epoch-making date, and I created a tenor part in Cherubini's fourth Mass at St James' Hall (created means singing for the first time in England). This was my first and only serious engagement — the result of years of study, with cost of upkeep amounting to about ;^900. It lasted two CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 56 minutes and a quarter. Mackenzie was conducting, and the London Musical Society provided a chorus of two hundred. Whether it was the noise of the orchestra or the chorus, I don't know; but some- thing paralysed me. I got away all wrong, jumbled the whole affair and walked off the stage. This was the beginning and the end of my career as a professional singer. True, I enjoy to this day singing for vanity, called charity, which endureth all things. I stooped to writing my own Press notices, and expressed surprise as to how these flattering criticisms could have possibly crept into the papers ; but the artificialities of an incompetent singer were demoralising and expensive, and I felt the humilia- tion of failure in this latest link in my chain of appointments and disappointments. To be fair to myself, however, I did, in company with David Bispham, Agnes NichoUs, Lucille Saunders, and professionals of the best, take the tenor solo parts, some of which I created, in the following works: — Spohr's " Calvary," Gaul's " Joan of Arc," Bottesini's " Garden of Olivet," Parry's "Judith," M'Cunn's " Lay of the Last Minstrel," H. J. Edward's " Ascension," Molique's " Abraham," Miss Holland's " Miss Kilmansegg." I was a member, too, of the " Magpie " Minstrels, and once, only once, sang solos at a " Magpie " concert. This was on 3rd June, 1887. It was not a pleasant time in my life, for I had not much money left. I was living on capital made in Ceylon, and earning nothing. I was also becoming a snob. Now snob- bery is a gift one is usually born to and seldom 56 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS acquires. I was not completely successful at that. By doing nothing particularly well, I became feebly popular. Genuine failure has this much to be said in its favour — it makes one immune from rivalry and jealousy. This jumble of experiences, which left me empty, left me also spiritless. Naturalness and frankness seldom survive poverty, and so feeble did I become in the effort to keep up appearances, that I reminded myself of a gentlemanly valet, whose master said that no gentleman was quite so gentlemanly as all that. At length I was in the condition of an opportunist, with little left but carefully-sheltered, hothouse courage. At last a turn came, which I owe to Hamilton Aide and Miss Caroline Holland, whose characters, widely different, were the very best tonic and exercised an influence which has never been effaced. Hamilton Aide was my wife's cousin, and he took an interest in our little battles with fate, and eventually became my greatest friend, and left me co-truslee of his affairs. Doubtless his life will be written, but this is how he presents himself to me in thought to-day: Nature, which denied him some things, gave him what most he valued, a passionate love for painting, sculpture, music, poetry, and the language of the gods; all things, too, that were grand or beautiful, the light of an ingenuous countenance, and what transcends them all, of noble action. Without any taste for politics or sport, the Greek blood in him (his father was Greek Minister and was killed in a duel) accounted for an aristocratic Bohemianism. Nevertheless, he entirely failed to simulate the hail- fellow-well-met manner. He understood little about animals, children, or sport, but kindness took a good CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 57 second place to knowledge. Jealous of all com- petitors in any race which he ran with weakness, he was tolerant and encouraging to those who excelled where he himself excelled. The Athenaeum, the Beefsteak and the St James' were his favourite clubs; somehow the Garrick did not fit him. This much-travelled bachelor could hold his own in con- versation with most. His intimates were amongst the leaders in many walks of life, and it is not too much to say that those who knew him most loved him best. Of his talents, out-and-out the best was his paint- ing. He gave three exhibitions of several hundreds of his works ; and they fetched good prices. He set a fine example to amateurs by giving every penny to charities. At upwards of eighty, this was his round of the clock : A breakfast party, or, at least, a friend to breakfast ; then perhaps a wedding, or theatrical rehearsal, or a picture gallery; luncheon with some friend, an Imperial Highness or a stockbroker ; then a dinner party, a theatre, a look-in at one or two parties or a ball; but always he would finish up at the Beefsteak Club with a lemon-and-soda. On off-days he would rest by composing a song. He had published sixty. " Remember or Forget," and " The Danube River," written fifty years ago, are still sung and sold ; and he published three volumes of poems, " Lost and Found " being the best. He also wrote some thirty novels, which satis- fied a passing vogue. His plays were not success- ful, though Bernhardt, Ellen Terry, Duse, Irving and Mrs Kendal have all acted in them. His " Philip " was produced at the Lyceum by Irving. His coined epigrams were few, but he excelled in illustrative anecdote. In spite of, or perhaps, 58 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS because of these many talents, he achieved a social position of eminence and success. He was an occasional guest at Sandringham; King Edward also honoured his parties. Prince Alexander of Teck spoke of his frequent visits to his home and his singing in the olden days. Letters of affection from his old friends, the Whitakers and the Jessups, testify to qualities which drew towards him the great minds of his day. And then the end. In the best of spirits, his last day in London was with Princess Alexis Dolgorouki, where he kept up animated conversation with his old friend, Mrs Cornwallis West, and helped at the Sale of Work executed by the Grand Duchess Serge's peasants. Thence he went to Lord Avebury, but had to return immediately to Half-moon Street, where he died within two days, peacefully and painlessly. Indeed, I was unaware of the moment of his death. His hand in mine grew icy cold, and when I looked at my watch it was three o'clock in the morning. Hey, his faithful valet, was also present. A memorial service was held at St Paul's, Knightsbridge. He was cremated and the urn with his remains was buried at South Ascot. His life demonstrated the beauty of death, and his death demonstrated the beauty of life. I close this chapter in affectionate memory of Hamilton Aide, " transformed by the re- newing of the mind," on the 13th of December, 1906. Lines suggested by the Memorial Service to Mr Hamilton Aide, December 20, 1906: — " If we might write one letter to our dead, One only — and unanswered — just to pay The little toll of words we would have said, That hour we learnt all was too late to say : CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 59 If we could tell them gently all they meant, And were, by deed or being, to our tholes, Surely there would be packed in what we sent Comfort, unspeakable to dislodging souls. And greater to the sender, for brute facts, Of termagant humdrum, never can remove, ' The little nameless, unremembered acts,' Of careful kindness and remembering love, Which made that best of us, we never knew In the making; since, so gentle was the flood. Its small waves lapped our careless selves and drew Our love and wit, unwittingly, to good. We learn it from the world, what we have lost. And curse our carelessness; yet the dry pen waits. And dawdles, with no dreaming of the cost. To those who still are lingering at the gates. And then — the ' never again ' — the old regret. The ' wish I had,' the old reforming vow — Oh, Friend or Lover, die before 'Too late,' Give all thou hast, be swift, and give it now." — H. C. One morning shortly after Hamilton Aide's death, I, as co-executor under his vi^ill, had to open letters addressed to him. Will the reader consider and decide exactly what course he or she would have taken under the circumstances related in the follow- ing letter? It is a positive duty to insert it, as it reached me, for the reason that the reader will discover. Denver Special and St Louis Limited, en route. Monday, December y.st, 1906. Mr Hamilton Atd^. " Dear Sir, — Henry is in very poor health. He intended to come out of the mines to attend to the matter I am about to set before you, but, unfortun- 60 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS ately, he had a severe hemorrhage of the lungs a few days ago and has been ordered, if he would live, to remain in the high altitude for the present. He feels that you must be anxious to hear from him, as it is now a long time since you last heard from one another, and so he requested me to act for him and to write you fully at the earliest possible moment. He did not have the heart to write during the trying months of toil and failure, but now that good fortune has come to him, he cannot get the good news to you too soon. " I left the mines last Saturday morning (Decem- ber 29th) and am writing ' en route ' to New York. " We are located in the Cripple Creek mining district of Colorado, where we have discovered the richest good quartz veins I have ever seen. " Henry has declared you in with him, share and share alike. He owes his success to you and to your financial support, and he feels that you are fairly entitled to share equally with him in the profits resulting from his explorations, according to promise. " His richest group of mines, named in your honor, ' The Aide group,' will alone make you both immense fortunes. We have expended our best energies on them and have already uncovered in simple development work, such as driving tunnels, sinking shafts and tripping the vein, enough of very rich rock to keep a five-stamp will running night and day for years. We store our richest rock in drifts and in cross cuts under ground, to crush with a primitive arrastra of our own construction. The low grade ore is thrown over the dump to be handled by more modern machinery. To give you an idea of the superior quaUty of our ore, would say that we CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 61 have often knocked out of our richest rock, in a single day with an ordinary hand hammer, from 40 to 50 ounces of gold, valued at £At per ounce. " I am bringing with me 165 pounds avoirdupois weight, of pure gold, which I am instructed to deliver to you in New York. Gold to be taken to the mint in England to be sold. You keep one half of the proceeds and deposit the remainder in bank to Henry's credit. " If the vein we are working does not dip within a few feet, it will run into adjoining property. In case this happens, we shall buy the property in order to control mother lode. We have managed, thus far, in keeping the knowledge of the value of our strike to ourselves, which will enable us to buy at a low figure, should we need the property, and also enable us to secure titles to as many claims as wanted. " I have put off registering claims at Henry's request, until after he has heard from you. He thinks your idea of incorporating your joint interests a good one and he will gladly consent to any plan you may suggest. He deems it advisable for you to send a trustworthy person back with me to look after your interest, as he intends to come out late next season and wants to leave mines in care of a man who is satisfactory to you. His health permitting, he will then come to England to visit you. He also requested me to say that he does not want any of his kinsfolk to know of his good fortune ; at least, not for the present, for reasons known to you. Caution the person you elect to return with me to keep our matter strictly ' sub rosa ' until after we have registered as many location certificates as the law 62 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS will allow. We are taking every precaution to keep the knowledge of our strike to ourselves, for, did the world but suspect it, prospectors would swarm about us to peg out claims, a catastrophe to be carefully avoided. " I am directed not to send the gold to you through a bank or to place the same in bond, as such a course would subject us to the annoyance of inquisitive meddlers and might result in exposing our strike to a loss to us of thousands upon thousands of pounds. " You can form no idea of the stir and excitement our find will cause, in the mining world, when it becomes known. Therefore, in order to protect ourselves against a possible heavy loss through a premature exposure, come on in person. Henry realises fully what the voyage may mean to you, and would not suggest it did I not know that your best interests demand it. Should you, however, feel unequal to the journey, do not delay matters by writing, but send on a trusted relative in your stead, cautioned as above, as I must return to the mines as soon as possible. " Do not trust this matter to an outsider, it means too much. Cable me upon receipt of this when and by what steamer you sail and I will meet you upon your arrival in New York. In the meantime I shall visit my mother, who lives in Scranton, Penn- sylvania, at no great distance from New York, and shall anxiously await your cablegram. Hoping to have the pleasure of meeting you soon, I am, dear Sir, " Faithfully yours, " E. A. Sinclair." CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 63 " N.B. — You can easily make the round trip in three weeks. — E. A. S." " Address cablegram as above : Elmer Sinclair, St Charles Hotel, Scranton, Penna." Well, I wired out, naming a ship ; bought my kit and looked forward to having a jolly good time, when lo! my co-trustee, C. C. Tennant (far wiser than I) advised me to go to the U.S. Embassy and make in- quiries, which I did, and was promptly disillusioned. It turned out to be one of the most gigantic frauds of modern times, the object being to get the executors to provide money in the belief that the letter was genuine, and they had no opportunity of proving it otherwise, as the person addressed is always taken from the death columns on The Times. The swindle has been successful in many cases and has prospered to the known extent of over ^50,000. The unknown is more terrible : two victims have never been heard of since they landed in America — in- veigled one supposes either up country or to the opium dens in the city of New York. I wrote to my old friend, Charlie Bayley, who was then acting Con- sul in New York, and he replied: " Dear Luther, — It is the old ' gold-brick ' brigade. I have been after them for years and have often nearly caught them, but they are still at large." CHAPTER V Miss Caroline Holland — A Remarkable Character — Her Choir — Penny Bank — " All Sorts and Conditions of Men " — The People's Palace — Opening by Queen Victoria — The Empress Frederick's Adventure. " Fear no more the heat o' the sun, nor the furious winter's rages, Thou thy worldly task hast done. Home art gone — and ta'en thy wages." Miss Caroline Holland was a friend whose life would make an interesting volume. One of her brothers was Lord Knutsford, Secretary of State for Colonies, a tactful and courageous statesman, an administrator with the spirit of Lord Carnarvon, and a sympathetic friend to me in my People's Palace days. Her other brother was Canon Holland of Canterbury. She was a granddaughter of Sydney Smith, from whom she inherited certain remarkable qualities. Her father. Sir Henry Holland, was a doctor, described as possessing great charm, and although no relation to the Lady Holland, of Holland House, wrote the following extraordinary description of Lady Holland, which I copy from the memoirs of the Holland family, as it might certainly have been written to describe his daughter Caroline, of whom I write: — " A remarkable woman in every way, supreme in her own house; she exercised capricious tyranny 64 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 65 even over her guests of the highest rank and pro- fession; but though capricious in mind, there was really intention in all she did, and this intention was the maintenance of power, which she gained and strenuously used. She knew when to change her mood, and to soothe by kind words the provocation she had just given, and was very apt to give. She was aided by a native generosity of mind, which never failed to show itself where kindness was wanted. In my long and intimate knowledge I never knew her desert an old friend whatever his condition might be. Her management of conver- sation, sometimes arbitrary, and in rude arrest of others, furnished a study in itself." While someone asked Miss Holland if she was related to Lady Holland, she answered : " No, I am New Holland, and my capital is Sydney." Speaking for myself, I never had a stauncher friend. She was no respecter of persons. I have known her keep a Bishop waiting whilst she promptly attended to an errand boy. All social events would be set aside, whilst she paid excessive attention to minute and tiresome details ; but when she had made up her mind on any given subject, she set about doing it with a strange mixture in her manner of boldness and coyness. She had what I can only describe as a manlike courage and generosity; broad and large, quite in contradistinction to a petti- ness she seemed to adopt in arriving at her decisions. Caroline Holland never wished for any return for her kindness, and was childlike in her appreciation of the sHghtest attention from those she Hked. Colossal in her energy, she realised by her amateur choir some ^13,000, which she gave to charity. This £ 66 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS choir she conducted whilst she played at the piano, expressing, in a loud voice, praise or blame during the performance. If she allowed any man to con- duct, she promptly conducted him; and has even been known to sharply correct a royal member of her choir. Her large circle of friends never forsook her, though they were literally commandeered to subscribe for her charities and concerts. They would enter the hall in an apologetic frame of mind and cheer hysterically whenever she signalled her orders ; yet not one of them knew why they were thus mesmerised. Her Penny Bank was a wonder- ful organisation in Soho, conducted in some miser- able, damp cellar under a church. Here she influenced thousands of poor children to save their pence. Perhaps the parish was upset and the curates terrorised — but what of that? There was not a soul who would not follow her lead. Even at her evening parties, guests who I really believe had never in their lives emitted a musical sound before, quietly got up and sang in quartettes, simply because she willed it. On the twenty-fifth anniversary of the choir, we presented Miss Holland with a testimonial. Lord Hampton, the senior member, wired me to make the speech for him, and I think it was all right. It was from the very heart of all her choir, past and present. Such opposite characters as Hamilton Aide and Miss Holland left their influences for good. With Miss Holland it was action ; with Aide it was reflec- tion. I might perhaps insert here a characteristic letter from Miss Holland to my wife : " Dear Mabel, — Will you and Luther dine with me and play bridge on Tuesday next when I return to London from Ajaccio? Ask L. what he thinks CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 67 of this — ^it is the last few Hnes of an article I am publishing : ' A pretty girl, aged fourteen, of an obscure provincial town, marries a man as little known to fame. They have a numerous family, and it becomes a matter of serious anxiety how their children are to be provided for. " ' And lo ! says Gregorovius, these same children one day put forth their hands one after the other, and grasp the mightiest crowns of the earth, tear from the heads of the most unapproachable majesties of Europe, and wear them before the world : Napo- leon is Emperor of France; Joseph is King of Spain; Louis, King of Holland; Jerome, King of WestphaUa; Paulina and Eliza are wedded to Princes of Italy, and Caroline is Queen of Naples. These almost incredible facts are pompously recorded on the wall to the north of the high altar, and justify the proudly, simple inscription on the marble tomb beneath: ' Here Hes Letitia RamoHno, The mother of Kings.'' " Yours ever, " Caroline Holland." Both have gone before. Miss Holland died in 1909. She certainly rose above the little forms that circum- scribed her sex. About this time Hamilton Aide wrote a little play. Alfred Scott-Gatty set it to music, and Miss Holland started a drawing-room operetta company. They all did it in our interests, and we had a dress rehearsal before it started on its provincial tour. This dress rehearsal was its only real success. It is, however, worth alluding to, as it was the means of raising ;^500 for the benefit of the Gordon Boys' 68 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS Home. King Edward and Queen Alexandra came, and a great following with them. That night also marked the first appearance in London of Marshall Wilder and Eugene Gudin. Incidentally, this was my first success as an honorary organiser. Marshall Wilder was a clever little humorist, but, as he admits, his tact gave out when he offered Sir Henry Irving some letters of introduction. Gudin was, to my mind, one of the most charming salon singers of his day. De Soria was his only rival then, and one night, Evelyn, Duchess of Wellington, or was it Mrs Thornburgh Cropper, gave a party and asked them both to sing. They were, in fact, on trial before a party of critics, and Eugene won, prin- cipally because, though in all other respects equal with De Soria, his full voice was distinctly better. Poor Eugene died quite young, but not before he had won the affection of many and the adulation of most. About this time De Lara, Lawrence Kellie, Haydn Coffin, Thorndike, and Jack Robertson were beginning to make their mark. In 1887 a sensational novel came out, called " All Sorts and Conditions of Men," by Rice and Besant. The story inspired the building of the People's Palace, and when the large hall was finished, some sort of scheime was wanted to set it in motion. Harold Boulton, Ernest (now Sir Ernest) Flower, and Charlie Bethune took it up with enthusiasm, and asked me to help them. Anything of the nature of statistics is always boring and dull, so I have cut them all out, but as these are my memoirs, I must put in a few pages about the People's Palace. When the large hall was opened, there was some excitement, for our never-to-be-forgotten Queen CHKONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 69 Victoria came east. The streets were kept clear for five miles, while Mayfair drove to Whitechapel. As Honorary Organiser in Court Dress, I rather fancied myself as I drove along the route, especially as Madame Albani was seated by my side. Scott- Gatty was Master of Ceremonies, and had to hustle us a bit, for just as I was by mistake placing Albani on the throne, a mighty cheer arose, to signify the arrival of Her Majesty. The strains of " Home, Sweet Home " deeply affected the Queen, yet the brilliancy of jewels and the wealth displayed con- trasted but badly with the sordid surroundings of East End poverty. We, of the Committee, also had a silent anxiety, for by somebody's mistake (we all blamed each other) it had been intimated that an unrepealed Disorderly House Act showed we were breaking a law in opening the Palace without having first obtained a music licence. It was within the rights of a common informer to arrest one performer and one listener, and to lock them up without the option of a fine. Such was the law! and although nothing happened, we suffered a very disagreeable hour. For some days previously I had been taking measures to ward off possible consequences. First to the local magistrate I went three times ; then to the head of the Criminal Department, Mr Murdoch ; to the Commis- sioner of Police and to Mr Pennyfather ; to the Clerk of the Peace, Sir R. Nicholson ; then to the Home Secretary and Mr Leigh Pemberton; to the Lord Chamberlain and the Hon. C. Ponsonby Fane ; to the Licenser of Plays, and Mr Piggott, and Mr Tupper ; then to the Privy Council Office and Mr Suft. Last of all, I wrote and asked Sir Henry Pon- sonby, then in waiting at Balmoral, to intercede and 70 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS gain Her Majesty's sanction for a special charter, similar to that given to the Albert Hall. Well, to speak truly, the Queen was angry at our mistake, and said No! Nothing but sheer luck saved the most unpleasant scene, for the neighbouring music halls were jealous of our privilege. Another excitement at the People's Palace was a visit from the Empress Frederick of Germany. We were told that it was the custom in Germany that on such occasions the ruling family should mingle with the people without ceremonious restraint. So the Empress moved about without any lady-in-waiting, or even the official peeler. Off we started with the Empress to go the round of the Exhibition. The " we " consisted of about six old gentlemen, repre- senting city livery companies or something, but only just able to totter along themselves. Harold Boul- ton, Flower and I were a bit nimbler, but we didn't reckon on what was to follow. Of a sudden, the crowd closed in. We quickly abandoned all ceremony, and recognised the only course, and that was to get Her Majesty away as quickly as possible. The crowd closed upon us now with greater force. Those nearest could not help themselves, as there were thousands behind them. In this great emergency, Boulton, Flower and I adopted the good old game of prisoners base, and charged with folded arms into the crowd, just as the screams of women and children warned us that a panic was threatening. I caught sight during the scrimmage of one of the Committee; his wig and hat had gone. We three had also lost our hats. Indeed, we let them go, as we could not wear them, and our ties were arranged round our ears. Her CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 71 Majesty the Empress, throughout, remained calm and collected. She never showed the slightest signs of fear. At last we reached the railings, and there hailed somebody's private brougham. The astonished coachman did our bidding, when we told him where to go. Her Majesty smiled gratefully, made some pretty remark, put out her hand to be shaken or kissed ; I didn't know which, so I did both, and inly ruminated that a German Empress had suffered a forced retreat to the sanctuary of a passing brougham. It would be boring to dwell at length at any of my fifty-six entertainments. One, however, I must allude to. This ran from 1 1 a.m. to 7.10 p.m. with twenty-three changes, for ten thousand children. Poor old Toole and Corney Grain on this occasion experienced the only known failures of their lives, and it fairly broke their spirits for the day. Toole walked about Victoria Park and returned to the attack with renewed spirits, while Dick Grain got more and more rigid and frigid. But it was all of no use. Failure was the only word, as the chat- tering of ten thousand children never ceased, until a performing Blondin donkey turned that chatter into a yell of joy. It was my fault for having asked Toole and Grain, but, much to my regret, I never have understood children. The marshaUing of the children in and out was exciting. From a tremendously high platform out- side, I gave well-rehearsed orders by means of a boatswain's whistle, to the heads of each school, who, in turn, were marshalled by my two sub-managers. Not a child was lost, and only eight mislaid tempo- rarily, but the traffic was turned aside for two hours. The little ones consumed 17,005 lb. cakes, 900 gal- 72 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS Ions of tea, and 34 gallons of milk. This work was splendid training for managerial work in later years, but the discreet eulogies of the permanent authorities seemed to be a little pale return for the labour which I had unceasingly carried on for six months. I append, with pleasure, the first letter of en- couragement I ever received for honorary organisa- tion. It came unofficially from Mr (now Sir Arnold) F. Hills, Chairman of the Thames Iron Works, a philanthropist and vegetarian. " The Thames Iron Works, " Blackwall East. " August 2s,th, 1887. " My Dear Mr Munday, — I have just received your extraordinary 'memorandum of the work you have done at the People's Palace, and hasten to con- gratulate you on the splendid results you have obtained. As one who has been deeply interested in the success of this new venture, for bringing the pleasure of art within easy reach of the poorest people, and also as one who has been able to render but scanty assistance in the organisation and carry- ing through of so big a scheme, I beg to return to you my heartiest thanks for all the labour and pain you have bestowed so continuously and successfully. I know it has been a real labour of love with you, but for this very reason you deserve our best thanks the more. " Believe me, " Yours very truly, " Arnold F. Hills. " To Luther Munday, Esq., " Honorary Organiser and Member of Executive Committee." CHAPTER VI The Lyric Club— Entertainments— The Lyric Cricket Club- Whist— Sandow— Sabbatarianism— Lord Selby— Collapse of the Lyric Club. I THINK it was in 1889 that Sinclair Macleay took me one Sunday night to 175 Bond Street, where we stayed till 2.30. Here I at once felt that I had found my temperamental soundings and surround- ings. This was the Lyric Club, which, in one form or another, had been going along then for about twenty years. At this period it was languishing, because George Power (now Sir George) was giving up the Secretaryship. Macleay offered it to me, and I took it like a shot. In fact, the offer came at a time when I was almost reduced to going back to work up my coffee estate in Ceylon. The Club pro- prietor offered me a small salary, but this I promptly declined, simply remarking that when I asked for pay, my price would be a big one. And so it became, for in two years I asked for, and obtained, a salary of ^650 per annum. I preferred to try and make the Club a success before asking for anything ; and, fortunately, a syndicate of men with money was found, which gave me carte blanche to reconstruct the social and artistic affairs of the Club in my own way. I never enjoyed work so much. In a very little while, on the tide and torrent of fashion at the Lyric Club, floated the beauty of the time, and through its lighted avenues at St Anne's and its halls i73 74 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS in Piccadilly, went Royal Dukes, Ambassadors, and other leading lights of society, art and culture. Both places sparkled as did no other centres of amuse- ment in London in those days. When at its zenith, four years later, these triumphs suddenly ceased, and it fell a victim to a great misfortune ; yet the Lyric Club never descended to the humdrum, never witnessed the dry rot of mere dullness, never grew dingy or seedy; nor, it may truly be said, had the Lyric Club ever a rival during the years of its glorious existence. Its exclusiveness was guarded by Lords and Ladies, whose smiles or frowns con- signed candidates and their guests to happiness or disappointment. Diplomatic arts and much finesse were set in motion to gain membership ; for persons whose rank and fortunes entitled them to the entree almost any- where were excluded by the cliquism, if not the despotism of the Committee. Speaking generally Club Committees are in effect Courts of Honour — substitutes for duelling. They visit any grave offence against Society with penalties quite as severe as the bullet or the rapier; and (with due respect) much more severely than the House of Lords. The Lyric reminded one of Almack's, when the great Duke of Wellington was refused admission, because he wore trousers instead of knee breeches.* The Duke, who had a great respect for order and regulations, quietly walked away. It has been said that the Lyric became the paradise of the rich, the purgatory of the poor, and the hell of the wise. But whether or no this was mere redundant phrasing, the Club undeni- * Sir Henry Vavasour tdd me (19 12) he was present at Almack's when this happened. CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 76 ably throbbed with Hfe in its many phases, of sport, games, music and the drama, and, with it all, enjoyed a sense of repose. Jealousies and rivalries did not exist among the members, for within the fold every- thing was done con amore. There it was only a question of give and take, never a question of buy and sell. That, in a word, was the secret of the success of a club that naturally produced many imitators, but certainly no rivals. It died in its prime, but not before everybody of importance who shone or twinkled in the firmament of arts or society, had passed the doors either as member or guest. Left perfectly free-handed, and given the initiative to rebuild upon new lines, and with money enough to work with, nobody could have entirely failed. With those who. remained of the old Committee, and add- ing those that were newly chosen, seventeen com- moners first served the Lyric Club, every one of whom was subsequently knighted. These were : Mr Arthur Sullivan Mr Tosti Mr Morell MacKenzie Mr Joseph Barnby Mr Bancroft Col. W. H. MacKinnon Mr Alfred Scott-Gatty Mr Augustus Harris Mr A. C. MacKenzie Mr Beerbohm Tree Mr George Alexander Mr Charles Wyndham Mr Charles Santley Mr John Stainer Mr Bridge Mr Henry Irving Mr William Court Gully 76 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS I suppose it would be impolite to many of these deserving knights to compare this with a similar number of famous Englishmen, who all died in the Victorian era, without a title amongst them, and never one of whom received the distinction of burial in Westminster Abbey. Yet either one of them would, by assuming the order of knighthood, have redeemed it from the possible reputation of becom- ing the Charter of Mediocrity : — Thackeray Watts Herbert Spencer Turner Charles Matthews Tom Hood Matthew Arnold Ruskin Thomas Carlyle Wordsworth Keats John Bright Shelley Charles Kean Kemble Huxley Tom Robertson Gainsborough I asked the first Lord Londesborough to accept the Presidency of the Lyric Club. He did so, and added some twenty more to our Committee. Amongst them were: Henry Lord Ailesbury, Lord Randolph Churchill, Lord Hawke, the late Lord de Lisle and Dudley, Sir John Millais, Mr Sinclair Macleay, Lord Charles Beresford, Admiral the Hon. A. Denison, Lord Edward Spencer Churchill and myself. The Lyric started in its original form before the BRIEF CHRONICLES OF W. B. Maxwell. Maude Valerie White. Lora Avebury. Arthur Goring Thomas. H.S H. Prince Alexander of Teck, Right Hon. Henry Labouchere. P.C. The Archdeacon of London and L.M. " Bob and I." George Grossmith, Senr. Hall Caine. Sir Francis Burnand. Lord Avebury. CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 77 Bachelors, the WeUington, or the Isthmian, and surpassed them all in years — ^reaching the ripe age of twenty-six. These pages are confined to the episodes of the last five years of its existence. The fundamental basis was that of a social mingling with representa- tives of art and sport. Every Sunday night, and on alternate Thursdays, dinner invitations were issued to twenty chosen guests, and on these occasions I was always requested to take the chair. Selected from a large number of applications, were members of the Club who joined in these dinners, members taking their turns in order of application. Usually a member of the Committee sat on my left, and the principal guest on my right. They were all formally introduced to one another ; and the dinner was the best that this most up-to-date club could provide. In these days it was the custom to enter the names of lady guests, and of the members who brought them, in a book kept for the purpose in the hall. This book had become a perfect dustbin for gossip; and I remember many old scandalmongers scanning the book for hours daily, to collect what they could, and take it round the town; so that, in the early days, it had more than once been the source of family trouble. I altered this, and initiated the substitution of slips of paper, upon which guests' names, after being written, were deposited in a locked box for the inspection of the Committee only. At these most carefully selected dinner-parties, beauty was frequently represented by the actresses and songstresses of the day; wit and humour, by well-known social figures, by play-writers, painters and poets. After dinner we adjourned to the 78 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS beautiful little theatre, in the lower part of the Club premises, to find it crowded with members, waiting for the programme which was to follow. Up to half-past twelve, a constant stream of artistes took part in the improvised programmes, peculiar to the Lyric. How many will remember these exception- ally happy evenings ! " // piu grand ommagia alia musica sta nel silenzio " was strictly observed. Only twice, I think, in five years, difficulty arose from talking among the audience, but in both cases the concert or play was stopped as a penalty. At the Lyric Club, social life was lightened and brightened, and we tried to give to artistes the genuine happiness they so generously gave to us. These witty tongues were bridled within the limits of graceful repartee, and gave a brilliant incarnation of original and clever thoughts, of polished equi- voque, camaraderie, and bonhomie. The dinner and supper-parties with comedies and music to follow were only part of the Club's attractions, as we gained quite an historical success in our cricket club, beating all comers. Let me stop a little and explain that we were ever searching the historical records of clubs of the past so as to strike new ground if pos- sible ; but it is very difficult to create anything new. Thus in 1798 a social club called the White Conduit, had already included cricket amongst its attractions. This was the Marylebone Cricket Club, which originated at the White Conduit Club, and after one of its attendants, named Thomas Lord, Lord's Cricket Ground was named. Lord Londesborough founded the Lyric Cricket Club; he had for years entertained the gentlemen players at Scarborough. Much credit is due to CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 79 Courtenay Welch, who was a splendid Honorary Secretary. Here are some of our cricket members, Ivo Bligh (now Lord Darnley) W. G. Grace Paravacini W. W. Read A. G. Steel " Buns " Thornton (who hit a ball over the Pavilio.n and clean out of the grounds at Lords). A. J. Webbe C. W. Wright Lord Hawke Sir A. W. L. Hemming J. W. Dale A. E. Stoddart Captain E. G. Wynyard C. W. Allcock Bromley Davenport Captain Bambury S. Eustace Forster J. W. H. Gully J. H. Hornsby W. C. Kemp C. P. Roller W. E. Roller F. W. Thomas J. G. Walker Lionel Arbuthnot C. M. Tuke G. H. Wood Sir Timothy O'Brien This list included the best cricketers in England at the time, and it created no surprise when we beat the best Austrahan team that ever tried conclusions 80 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS with England. The cost of this match was jC6S7, and the gate money was ;^33o. Lawn tennis was largely in evidence also ; but I do not think we can talk very big of our tennis achievements, none of our members having made any show against the great amateurs of the day. Football was played in our grounds ; the Army Final was once fought there before twelve thousand people. The Duke of Cambridge then presented the prize, and sent me a charming letter with a signed photograph as a souvenir. Our next endeavour was to strike an original line as an appendage to our winter evenings at the Club ; I searched out that most popular of men, Cecil Clay at the Portland, and conferred with him about whist. He took me to the Cavendish Club, and introduced me to Mr Henry Jones (Cavendish) who made me an honorary member, which I much appreciated. I wanted to come to some arrangement with him to secure his assistance, but this was promptly " clo- tured " by our Committee. After learning one or two things, I looked farther afield for some other sporting coterie to affiliate with our Club. But first a word about Cecil. He was, as everybody knows, the brother of Frederic Clay, the composer of " I'll sing thee songs of Araby," and the son of J. Clay, M.P., per- haps the best whist-player of his time. Cecil told me that this was the origin of short whist. A friend of the elder Clay having lost heavily, they proposed to make the game five points instead of ten, in order to give the loser a chance by a quicker game to recover his loss, and that ended long whist. Whist, however, practically went out when bridge CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 81 came in. " Cavendish " was a greater authority than his father but not so good a player. He told me that as a child he once asked his father why he played a certain card. The reply was: " Because nobody but a d d fool could do otherwise my boy." And this was the only lesson his father ever gave him, said Cavendish. From the four-handed I tried to develop the " four- in-hand " ; many of our members were keen on this. I pictured our members in my mind's eye like worthy young Ackers in 1789: a young blood who had one of his front teeth removed in order that he might acquire the true coachman-like way of spitting. I thought, too, that the revival of the gentlemen high- waymen might also be interesting as rich members bounded and abounded in the Club. Timbs in his " Curiosities " tells of a young scion of a great race waking up from a feigned sleep in which he was really watching his friend winning. He got up, yawned, stretched himself, said good night to his friends, went out, and waylaid his chum in the Park. He robbed him of every sou, returned to his club with the spoils, and gambled away his ill-gotten money with another chum within an hour. Timbs also says that John Cottington, gentleman highwayman, picked the pockets of Oliver Cromwell and Charles H. But somehow our times did not fit in with these exciting exploits ; the parks are too well lighted, the roads are too well kept, and maybe even human nature has undergone some change. Anyway the Committee snubbed my suggestions of gentleman footpads and club gambling. At that time Sandow made his entrance into the F 82 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS sporting world and showed his strength at a Matinee d'Invitation in our little Club Theatre. A new idea at last! but no. I found that in 1789 Shadbolt ran and pushed a cart twenty-one miles in six hours ; and in 1737 Cobham, a carpenter at a private Social Club, took an iron kitchen poker, one yard long and three inches round, and bent it by striking it upon his bare left arm. He also lifted eighteen hundred pounds off the ground and pulled against a horse. At least one reads these things were done in the presence of Admiral Vernon and an audience of the Bucks of the day in full dress of rich brocade. And who does not remember Tom Connolly, of our own day, who rode forty-two miles in one hour and forty-four minutes on eight hunters ? A feat of impudence was performed by an ancestor of my wife, Buck English, who threw a waiter out of the window and desired him to be charged for in the bill. And so, to return to the Club ; we had hoped to originate, but only revived the Strong Man Craze. Sandow is of our time, and goes down to posterity in a plaster cast at the Natural History Museum as the finest physical specimen of all time ; so a few lines about him may not be void of interest. Major Barlow, R.A., received a wire from a friend, Aubrey Hunt, in Germany in 1889 urging him to bring Sandow over to London to meet a strong man named Sampson, then appearing at the Aquarium Theatre, since owned by Mrs Langtry. Sandow beat Sampson, but when he claimed the prize of ;^iooo, had to accept ;^35o. All this created a sensation in the sporting world, and that night we took Sandow off to the Lyric Club, and in the cabin-room he went through his parlour tricks. CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 83 Little light kittenish touches such as lifting Gus. Harris with one arm, tearing a pack of cards into four, and other displays, induced us there and then to engage him at ^loo a week, for twenty-six weeks. Harris, Macleay, Pape, Barlow and I were mem- bers of the Syndicate, and Barker (I think Granville Barker's father) was manager. Soon Sandow ap- peared at the Alhambra for ^150 a week. He lifted two hundred and eighty pounds with one hand, and two hundred and twenty pounds with the other. Sandow's marvellous career belongs to the world. He was from the first a splendid fellow, full of heart, and possessing a considerable share of business acumen. To-day he has given up enter- taining, and reigns an unchallenged authority upon physical development, cocoa, and staunch friendship. We had a great night when he opened his con- quests at the Alhambra. Schlagg's oyster-shop was the scene. Mrs Schlagg served the supper, and Miss Schlagg the beer. Sandow had engaged a German Band which was meant as a delightful surprise for us. About twenty sat down to supper. They included Edward Fairfield, C.B., of the Colonial Office ; two ex-Lord Mayors ; Sir Reginald Hanson, a city dignitary; Charlie Murdoch, C.B., permanent Under-Secretary of State for the Home Office ; a German Officer great on calisthenics ; Major Barlow, R.A., a naval chaplain ; Aubrey Hunt, a well-known portrait painter; Clement Ritchie, one of my oldest friends, and a lady model, who was also a model lady. Eugen had finished his speech, and the German Officer was just commencing his reply in German, when crash went the door and there entered a police officer in plain clothes and four constables. Sandow 84 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS at once got to grips with these Hmbs of the law, in fact closed with the Inspector who was puffing and getting blue. Murdoch got out of a small window and lowered himself by the water-pipe into the area. The naval chaplain closed his eyes and silently moved his lips. The model lady, who was also a lady model, shrieked. The rest of us were more or less entwined around Sandow. After repairing the damaged Inspector we were arranged in serried ranks in the little oyster-shop and ordered to march to Vine Street, that pleasant little by-path off Piccadilly, previously referred to. The Inspector listened to my reasoning. I explained that two offenders were ex-principal magistrates of the village of London-on-Thames, and also that the Head of the Criminal Department was willing to offer me as security, for future good behaviour. So I was accepted as bail, and alone marched off, followed by a crowd of jeering odds and ends. The next day there was a short paragraph in the papers telling how sixteen men and a woman were fined for music and drinking after hours without a licence. I complained to my companions the next day — of what I had endured — pohce court indignities etc., but they only said you need not complain — we reached home. Stories about Sandow would half fill this book. I keep them in reserve together with some five- hundred Press flatteries as evidence in chief of the virile chronicles of the Lyric Club. Continuing to search for new sensations and to make the Lyric Club a diving board for trial trips into amateur sport we registered a distinct score. It CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 85 was at the Club that Col. Gouraud — afterwards King of the Sahara desert! — gave the first demonstration of the phonograph, recording a speech by Lord Londesborough, and a song by me ! During that same week the little lady who defied the laws of gravitation by lifting old gentlemen on chairs with her thumbs, passed the jurisdiction of a Committee of the Club experts. The living-picture craze was also initiated at the Lyric in the representa- tion of Armand Sylvestre's " Poemes d' Amour " in tableaux vivants. Then there came the latest and most startling demonstration of mesmeric power, and scores of new sensations were the curtain raisers to some forty original plays and operettas produced before 1895. Everything, as I said, was done for nothing. The subscriptions and entrance fees of members touched ;^i 3,000 one year, and this met our incidental expenses and paid off the building debts. Every year the Lyric chartered a couple of special steamers, starting from Westminster Pier in the early morning for our Club-house at Barnes. These boats took many guests and members to witness the Oxford and Cambridge Boat-race, and to meet the Oxford crews who lived at the Club and trained there for two years. The Club guests on the boats included many distinguished persons and numbered two hundred, the musical and dramatic artistes exceeding one hundred. Certainly had any disaster overtaken these steamers, not a single theatre in London could have fulfilled its engagement the nights of the boat-race. Lord and Lady Londes- borough were host and hostess, and everything that kindness and forethought could do they did. 86 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS Amongst many happy recollections, few are richer in downright pleasure than the five years I acted as their lieutenant in the responsibility of carrying out these continuous revels till we revelled out of existence in 1894. If such things as " jealousies " or " feelings " ever did exist in the daily round or common task, truly I never saw any of it at the Lyric. This may appear unnecessary to mention, but I think it proves that the conditions differed from the lines that usually govern Bohemia. Neither the cynic nor the dandy whispered about manners or about the cut of a coat, or the uncut of the hair in our Bohemian Dovecot. The host and hostess who presided quickly saw to it that every guest was set at ease. The Club was conducted upon the rules of the Lord Chamberlain's Department ; and the wives of members had to be eligible for presentation at Her Majesty's Drawing-Room. It may sound preten- tious for a club to boast of its exclusiveness, but this club was neither pretentious nor boastful. Success was attained by the minghng of Art and Class and by knowing and rigidly pursuing a very definite policy. Most fortunately, we had in our chairman the right man, and we may thank our lucky stars for this. That many were the difficulties that we had to encounter, will be understood merely by mentioning that there were twelve hundred members who had the right to introduce lady guests. There were three Committees and two Club-houses; art and sport were in perpetual display, while thirty members and fifty-six servants resided on the premises. The least experienced must see that to have left the slightest detail to chance would have CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 87 affected its course unfavourably. None but the best heart and head could possibly have fused together these extremes. To turn aside for a moment to some modern clubs which are successful to-day, through good manage- ment. The Bath Club is guided by one of the finest all-round sportsman of his time, who played cricket for Harrow, ran and rowed for Oxford, has chmbed in the Alps, has shot in many parts of the world, has twice swam across Niagara, stroked an eight across the Channel, has held the punting championship for three years, and won the epee prize at the Military Tournament in 1904-6. He is now Lord Desborough, but will ever be remembered as " WiUie " Grenfell. Other clubs flattering the Lyric by sincere imitation spread their tentacles for any passing vogue. Neither stradium nor radium ex- isted in the days to which I return. Assuming that quite a number remember and would wish to finish the story of what may appear to a younger generation nothing but a catalogue of events passed out of date and interest. Ascot and Lords were the centres of hospitality to thousands of Lyric guests. At the latter we took the secretary's house opening out on to the grounds ; there we lunched yearly and wit- nessed from coaches of members the Eton and Harrow, and the Oxford and Cambridge matches. But at Ascot we went one better. Thanks to my never forgotten friend Major Clement, Clerk of the course and a dozen other things, we had lent to us space next to the Guards for our tent, and for three coaches at the top of the line next the Coaching Club, and all these were kept for Club guests, many of them beautiful enough to 88 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS please the most fastidious, and to cause quite a sensation amongst those who only knew them on the stage. The Committee were nervous about this undertaking and only let me go ahead at Ascot provided I took all risks, which I did, and then and there initiated the Club luncheon tents at Ascot. There were only three club tents when I started the Lyric, but there were forty-seven last year. I made quite a good thing out of it from every point of view, for calculating over five years the average luncheons per year numbered nine hundred and ten. I generally lunched myself as a guest at the Guards' tent, and two years running met King Edward there, who most graciously remembered me. Clement gave me the run of the Royal Enclosure and Paddock, and his private box and room behind the box, where I lunched sometimes with the magistrate who tried cases of urgency on the spot. And now for a moment to generalities. The conditions and definitions of Society's exacti- tude change so rapidly that episodes of interest to- day may be stale to-morrow, and nothing of interest has any abiding place. Imagine amidst these rapid changes having out qf deference to Sabbatarian influence to decline the priceless gift of principal's, orchestra and chorus's services from Coven| Garden Theatre. Yet, after thirty-seven varied productions of comedies and operas on Sundays, we did bow to Sabbatarian feeling and ceased for a time. Social London on Sunday fell very flat in consequence, for the Lyric example was very powerful to encourage or suppress this Sabbatarian feeling. Henceforth the venue lay with the people, and musical and dramatic entertainments on Sunday were re-intro- CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 89 duced through the medium of hotels and stage societies, or on a much broader scale at music halls. It is conceivable that club privilege was being attacked, rather than Sabbatarian principals pro- tected. Anyway our club scenes came to an end, and to-day they live only in the memory of a past generation. Nothing at all like it has been repeated, and with the motor and hotel movements came an altogether new and more democratic state of things. The social severity in those days was tremendous. To-day, twenty years later, witnesses a great change. Our politicians set the clock. Patrician ladies are announced to dive and swim alike in clubs or music halls. They dance almost naked and quite unashamed and call it the cause of charity! It is true that, in spite of the scorn of his wife, David danced before the ark with all his might, but this was his means of demonstrating religious fervour. All this may be sorry subject matter for jest, for in the serious light of to-day these antics are an outrage upon more than art. Ladies, I don't refer to any one, there are many who vaunt their uncovered bodies upon placards, and in papers, who have not even the bare excuse of rivalling in art the women they emulate. They paraphrase a well-known motto, for their art is truly the disguise of art, and it blushes at their pretences. Madness or bhndness is this Nero fiddling, but it cannot be passed over as merely whimsical. History is ever repeating itself, and one may both see and hear more distinctly everywhere signs of the latter days of Louis XVI. Since I commenced these memoirs a great member of the old Lyric has passed away, one who was 90 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS little known outside his circuit when I first met him. He died Lord Selby, a Gladstonian Liberal chosen by a Conservative Government as Speaker, and proved himself equal to any of the illustrious line of First Commoners. He was proposed for the post that he held with much distinction — merely in jest. Upon the retirement of Mr Speaker Peel in April, 1895, Mr Gully, to everyone's surprise, was adopted as the Government nominee for the chair. The circumstances of his election were remarkable in many ways. He had the almost unique distinction of being chosen to the Speakership of the Commons by a very narrow party majority. When the vacancy occurred there was no thought of Mr Gully. The Government desired to nominate Mr Leonard Courtney in the first instance, but the Radicals, led by Mr Labouchere and the extreme Irish Section, were hostile, and Mr Courtney re- fused to stand unless the choice of the House was unanimous. Then the Unionists suggested that Sir Henry Campbell Bannerman would be acceptable to their side of the House, but the Secretary for War, although the Speakership had been his ambition, could not be spared by the Government, and it was, moreover, contrary to precedent, for a Cabinet Minister to accede to the chair. Failing to force that o-entleman on the House, the Unionists then brought forward Sir Matthew White Ridley as a suitable candidate ; but the Government, unwilling to give up the privilege of the majority in nominating a candidate, fell back upon Mr Gully. Mr Gully possessed the far-seeing essential quali- CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 91 ties of frank politeness and winning kindness. Mere amiability or uncomplaining endurance are not enough to win undisputed leadership, nor is undis- guised boredom. He had much greater gifts and conducted life on the give-and-take principle. Speaking for myself, when I was worried, he came as a friend, not too busy to advise, whilst I held the difficult position of Receiver for the Court at the time of the Club's dissolution as well as Secretary and Manager. In all this he helped me to the very last moment of the Lyric Club's affairs. I did all I could to resuscitate its fallen glory, but it was a sheer impossibility. The only monetary asset was the lease of the building which had been mortgaged to a bank. Whatever else might be thought to be assets had merely sentimental value, the goodwill of artistes, and the social support of members; but a club is like a delicate flower or a reputation, it dies if it is blown upon. How could one ask members who had already paid their subscriptions in advance, to take over the encumbrance of a mortgage and to pay the tradesmen's debts? Together with all sentiment, the ashes of the Club crumbled to pieces. The members signified their resignation in a body, the Committees resigned, and I was left alone to wrestle with difficulties I could not overcome, for the spirit of the Club was already de- parted ; its proud boast of exclusiveness, lacking the support of reputation, was dead. So one afternoon after getting a chemist to destroy the Club cats, I turned the key, and took it to the Court or to the nlortgagees, I forget which, but there was absolutely nothing else to do. All that remained was the goodwill of the artistes; the after-math or 92 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS second mowing of this wonderful crop belonged, not to the Club as an institution, but to any man who could hold it ; therefore I, having created it, renewed my bid and asked the artistes to follow me in any new venture — they have ungrudgingly responded and given me their unanimous support up to the date of my writing. All the Committee, without exception, trusted and honoured me with their close friendship. I felt pleasure in knowing them as equals, and I felt pride in acknowledging them as superiors. And this was my stock-in-trade when the Lyric closed. The following much-treasured contribution to my chronicle of friendships came on February 14th, 191 2, from Edith, Countess of Londesborough : " We must ever be friends And of all who Offer you friendship Let me be ever the first." — Edith Londesborough (1884-1912). J-C-^,.^ /vi ■ /i-^^ '<-///< The Duke of Rutland. Marie Corelli. Adelina Patti. General Sir Bindon Blood, G.C.B Sir Charles Wvndham. Miss Braddon "(Mrs. Maxwell). BRIEF CHRONICLES OF Sir Arthur Wing Pinero. Madge Kendal (Mrs. W. H. Grimston). Mr. Speaker Gully. Brigr.-Genl. Count Gleichen, K.C.V.O. C.M.G., D.S.O., C.B. A RECORD OF THE OLD LYRIC CLUB To the Secretary : Mr LUTHER MUNDAY, WHO, between 1887 and 1893 organized for the Club one hundred and eighty-two Musical Entertainments, and by his personal influence won the gratuitous support of Six hundred and eighty Leading Artists of the Musical and Dramatic Profession. HE also produced forty-three Plays and founded an Amateur Orchestral Society of Sixty Members. IN 1892 the Lyric Cricket Club played many Matches in the Club grounds at Barnes, and amongst other vic- tories may be recorded that over the famous Austra- lian Eleven. IN 1892 the Army Football Association played their final tie at the Club grounds. THE Oxford Eight defeated Cambridge in the year 1890 and 1892, and resided at the Club-house during their training. FOR four years the Club enclosures at Ascot and Lords were the centre of hospitality to thousands of Mem- bers and Guests. IN 1893 the Club was wrecked by misfortune, but many desire that the memories of days that are gone should be recorded in this form and given as a Memento to one whose pluck and tact made for the Lyric an indelible mark in Club history. [^Signed'\ Londesborough (Chairman) Edward Spencer Henry Irving Churchill Arthur Sullivan SufEeld Rutland Barrington Dorchester Joseph Barnby Ailesbury Herbt. Beerbohm Tree Clement Ritchie John Stainer Arthur W. Hill George Alexander Julian Goldsmid George Grossmith Harry Thynne Charles Wyndham Shaftesbury Augustus Harris 93 CHAPTER VII Critics — Oscar Wilde— H. M. Stanley— Self-made Men — Travel- lers — Cecil Rhodes — Lord Coleridge and the Jury — Sir George Lewis — Ping-pong — Lord Russell. " A man must serve his time at every trade Save censure; critics all are ready made." — Byron. English critics call a man great, and then proceed to prove in detail why he is not. A public person, that is, a person who appeals to the public by selling his talent in whatever form, must be criticised ; there is no short cut to immunity from criticism except oblivion. From the following letter it might seem that I had already rendered myself subject to the critic's pen:— " Dear Munday, — You must have written some- thing? Do you care to join the Authors' Club? " Yours sincerely, " Oswald Crawford." I answered boldly but regretfully : — " Dear Crawford, — I have written nothing yet except my name, and of this, alas! I am not the author; but if you want authors, I know a lady novelist who wrote a book of such a nature that her 94 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 95 mother forbade her to read it. Shall I send her along?" My outer brain crust was gradually being broken by contact with minds that raised one out of dull content to higher ambition. A round of visits con- firmed this. First to Juliana Horatio Ewing, ever remembered by her wonderful children's story books, and my Ceylon friend, Major Ewing, who wrote " Jerusalem the Golden." They lived at Taunton, and I remember going to a military funeral with Ewing when the chief mourner, who was following the procession, was killed before our eyes by a runaway horse. From the Ewings we went to the Pitney Martins, and then to stay with Mrs Maxwell (Miss Braddon) in the New Forest, when Willie (W. B. Maxwell) was a very small boy. She was the most copious writer of fiction in England, and is distinguished by her books, which are still looked for every year. " Lady Audley's Secret " has been acted for more than twenty-five years. Truly is Miss Braddon a remarkable woman, whose gentle personality and great talent one is glad to find inherited by her family. Her son, W. B. Maxwell, twice wrote the novel of the year, and Gerald made a fine speech from the chair when we welcomed Kitchener home at the Drury Lane Lodge, of which I was then a member. I was installed by Bancroft and proposed and seconded by Lord Londesborough and Gus Harris. Lady Wilde lived opposite our lodgings in Park Street where we lived in those days. Meeting her at Mrs Dallas Glyn's in Mount 96 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS Street (where I first met Willie and Oscar, her sons), Lady Wilde told the assembled guests, not in a whisper either, that, in her intense desire for a daughter, she thought and willed incessantly. Further that, to compensate for her bitter disappoint- ment when Oscar was born, she treated him for ten whole years as if he had been her daughter, carrying out this treatment in every detail of dress, habit, and companions. So it becomes evident that, in addition to the condition under which he saw the light, this unfortunate and self-sufficient genius was sent to school abnormally developed in mind, and instead of being a normal healthy man, he resembled a neurotic woman. It is a pathological fact, that the young in whom mental aberrations are discerned are usually more mature in mental receptivity and are not normal minded. Neurotic imagination is stimu- lated by reading Greek tragedies and the Latin poets. Parents unwittingly make their children familiar with the men and women of antiquity, and this is called reading the classics, but to translate these stories into modern English were unthinkable. Though I knew Oscar Wilde at the Lyric Club, I can add Httle lustre to his meteoric flash through London. His tourneys of repartee were tilted at Whistler and many other clever men at the Lyric in my hearing almost daily and for years. I regret now I never made a note at the time of many of his flashes of wit, his brilliant sayings, which went unrecorded. Dr Garnett, on hearing of Wilde's death, said gravely, " This is the death-blow to English poetry, because it will cast odium upon the Pre-Raphaelites." I myself remember meeting a new poet almost every CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 97 week ; but certainly the habit of reading poetry has almost died out, and poets seem as rare to-day as beaux and dandies. Oscar's brother WilHe I liked. He was impulsive, slovenly in his person and dress, generous, witty, kindhearted to a fault, unconventional and full of courtesy, a stranger to all pedantry and posing, changeable, quick-tempered, and a born journalist. Willie used often to sit until the last minute with his pals round the fire, often at some night club, and then get up and rush away to write his leader; the subject (we sometimes suggested it) appeared in the Telegraph only a few hours later. Writing came to him quite naturally, as it did to hosts of friends, J. S. Wood, Mrs Williamson, " Helen Mathers," " Frank Danby " and her sister, the Egerton Castles, Madame Albanesi, and to T. P. O'Connor, that lov- able Irishman whose political opinions I hate. At the Owls Club one night George (now Sir George) Power asked Willie to write a couplet as a motto for the Club. He wrote this in a minute: " We fly by night, and this resolve we make, If the dawn must break, let the d d thing break." To return to Oscar ; he was rather superior in his manner to Willie, whose range of temperament and style was so very different. Oscar was essentially a foseur \ every sentence he uttered told of studied spontaneity. Edmund Yates it was who first called him a genius, and engaged him for a long time to work on the World (Labouchere, too, first wrote for the World). Max Beerbohm, I think it was, who said, " Wilde came of a nation of brilliant failures, the Irish, who are too poetical to be poets." But G 98 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS even if one could recall Oscar Wilde's quips and silly vanities, they would require him to say them. He paid ten shillings and sixpence a day for his buttonhole, and two shillings and sixpence for another sprig for his cabman, whom he engaged by the day. He said of Whistler that, " he had no enemies, but was intensely disliked by his friends." Of Hall Caine that " he wrote at the top of his voice." Of Rudyard Kipling that " he revealed hfe by splen- did flashes of vulgarity." Of Henry James that " he wrote fiction as if it were a painful duty," and of Marion Crawford that " he immolated himself on the altar of local colour." His most unpleasant sayings were accompanied by a pleasing laugh, and always voiced in studied melody. I never remember during three years, where his daily sayings rippled forth at the Lyric, that he uttered a word that I could not reproduce in these memoirs. To a large extent they were wasted upon us, and it strikes me to-day as very strange that his conversation evoked so little response, considering that his plays stand revival so well. He was perhaps more a master of monologue than conversation. To him was recently accredited the authorship of some of the most remarkable verses of the nineteenth century. Someone described Whistler as a prophet who liked to play pierrot, and Wilde as a pierrot who liked to play the prophet. Both Willie and Oscar died young, as age counts to-day, but Oscar's works survive. To MY FRIEND, LUTHER MUNDAY. " The Thames nocturne of blue and gold, Changed to a harmony in grey; A barge with ochre coloured hay Stirred from the wharf : and chill and cold ' X. ^ /^ «^ ^ O -^-^ ^--v V^ =^ e^5 u-j 6^-'-^ , -^^ ^„.^ ^ S/-0 0-7 c -^ ^7/ CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 99 A yellow fog came creeping down The river, till the house's walls Became like shadows, and St Paul's Loomed, a great bubble, o'er the town. And one pale woman, all alone. The daylight kissing her wan hair, Loitered beneath the gas lamps flare. With lips of flame and heart of stone." Oscar Wilde. January, 1891. I first met H. M. Stanley, the explorer, at his wedding. He married a cousin of my wife's, Miss Tennant, a beautiful woman, and a distinguished artiste. I never lessened in my admiration of Stanley as a heroic child of Nature. What is more, he liked me too, and showed it by coming to our Httle house in Park Row, Knightsbridge. There I came in touch with the inner man. He stands out in my mind as a companionable, sympathetic friend; yes, I can say friend, for he sought me, I was too shy to go to him unasked or to invite him to come to me. Per- haps in all hterature there can be few more pathetic and more profoundly interesting impressions of youth than those recorded in Stanley's life. Fatherless, spurned by his mother, the boy grew up and suffered in the workhouse, until one day the spirit within him revolted; he turned upon his tormentor. A lucky kick smashed the schoolmaster's spectacles ; and then the lad thrashed the tyrant with the blackthorn with which he had himself been threatened. Stanley fled, and from that moment became a waif in the world. He went to sea, and learnt to love it; settled in America, went through the American War, and then began his extraordinary life of adventure, explora- 100 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS tion, and ceaseless battle. Stanley was refused burial in Westminster Abbey! We are strange people. Raleigh spent many years in gaol! The country which left Burton to eat out his heart in a second-rate consulship, never seemed to know what to do with Gordon, and still refuses to Byron a place in the Abbey; withheld from Stanley that which it accorded to Livingstone. Stanley, who made the map of modern Africa, who discovered and founded the Congo State, whose whole life was one superb achievement, comparable only with the voyages of the great Portuguese sailors, has been accorded no great national memorial. Life is so full of interest, so pregnant with thoughts, opinions, and flashes of character, that one can chronicle a few of the im- pressions it evokes. The account of Stanley's inter- view with King Leopold is profoundly interesting. Unlike Gladstone, King Leopold saw that Stanley was no ordinary man. He reaHsed at once the stupendous wealth of the newly-explored Congo country. He induced Stanley to found the Congo State. Thus has it come about to-day that the world looks on aghast at the fearful cruelties practised by the Belgians in those parts which Stanley discovered, offered, and did all he could to give to England; which even yet may be compelled to intervene, if only for the honour of humanity. By England's callousness and puny statesmanship, then, we lost the whole of the present Congo Free State and the monopoly of the Congo Railway, now one of the most profitable in the world. We gave to Germany what has now become German East Africa, all territory explored and opened up to commerce by British explorers, by Livingstone, Burton, Speke, CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 101 and Stanley! And we stood about the same chance of losing Canada till quite recently, as we did America. No wonder Stanley, the man who did things, felt himself outraged at the jibes and mali- cious imputations cast, by men who had never been out of England, upon his honour, his veracity, his very humanity. For sheer interest, his account of his passage down the Congo through the great virgin forests is perhaps unequalled in fiction. Every day he was attacked by savages, and yet when he returned, Exeter Hall raised a puling cry about Stanley's inhumanities. Stanley, the man who was known in all Africa as " the breaker of rocks," needs no arm-chair testi- monials. What he did lives to-day above all criti- cism, lives imperishably associated with the name of Great Britain. He was hard, no doubt; entirely self-centred, indomitable alike in aim and endeavour. Stanley as he knew himself, so he dehberately wished himself to be known. I was always fond of reading about self-made men, and I recommend any boy to read how an English- man, Adrian, who was dependent upon charity, became Pope; how Basil I., a slave, became Em- peror of Constantinople ; how Rienzi, the son of a washerwoman, was solemnly crowned at Rome ; how Ximenes, son of a peasant, became Prime Minister of Spain ; how Wolsey, the son of a butcher, became Cardinal and Prime Minister; how Cromwell, the son of a blacksmith, became Chancellor of the Ex- chequer; how Franklin, a journeyman printer, became Legislator and Philosopher ; how Bernadotte, a private soldier, rose to be King of Sweden; and how England treats her heroes. England ruled 102 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS to-day by forces greedy for power and ;^400 a year, the " Mediocracy." That most gallant officer, and prince of good fellows. Major Besant, introduced me to F. C. Selous, who is celebrated as a great lion-hunter. On the one occasion that we met, I took his friend to be him, which led to complications. I thought the idea worth repeating ; so one evening I introduced Major Barter to my friends as Eugene Sandow, and Sandow as a missionary. They all got very muddled, but matters were straightened by Sandow grasping Barter's ankle and slowly placing him on the table, as one would a piece of delicate china. If, however, the reader contemplates trying to repeat this feat, it would be better to rehearse it in private, as it is somewhat difficult to keep stiff when being lifted up by the ankle. I knew Major Barter through his bringing me a message of thanks from the Emperor of Germany's staff officers, who were on a visit to England, as I had helped show them round. In return for this gracious message, I sent the Emperor my drawing of His Imperial Majesty, which I venture to repro- duce here. Of travellers I have known many, among them Lord Dunmore, a good Christian Scientist, and Harry de Windt, who, like A. E. Jessup, the late Percy ffrench, Andrew Haggard, and Gussy Loftus, used suddenly to spring into our midst from the uttermost ends of the earth. Thence they returned always radiant, like live sparks blown by the wind upon combustible matter, to kindle anew the flame of good fellowship in our circle. I was a pall-bearer at the funeral of another great CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 103 traveller, Captain A. I. Mounteney-Jephson of African fame. Stanley's appreciation recorded to his lieutenant was fully borne out in the opinion of those who knew him, as I did all through his Ufe's varied successes, chastened with suffering. His last days, however, were exceedingly happy in the de- votion of his wife and his son. The Geographical Society paid him honour, and Lady Stanley and little Stanley were present at the closing scene to pay affectionate tribute to a brave member of the Stanley Expedition. The last explorer whom I can recall is that colossal empire builder, Cecil Rhodes. I first met him at George Cawston's, and afterwards at a little dinner-party of six, given by Sir James Maitland at the Bristol Hotel. A big expressionless face showed a mind naturally secretive, or tem- porarily bored. Obviously in earnest in all that he undertook, on this occasion his mind seemed con- centrated upon eating a dinner which lasted for three hours. The conversation that accompanied our eating was mostly about finance. I must own that it was a disappointing pleasure, leaving me little to tell except that I had twice dined with Cecil Rhodes, to the tune of his desultory remarks upon gener- alities. He gave me his signed picture, which I treasure. Thus writes Kiphng of Rhodes: " There, till the vision he foresaw, Splendid and whole arise, And unimagined Empires draw To council neath his skies, The immense and brooding spirit still, Shall quicken and control, Living he was the land, and dead His soul shall be her soul! " 104 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS " I have sometimes thought," says Sir J. E. Fuller, " that if there be anything of the Eastern dream of re-incarnation which shall renew and satisfy the nascent passions and desires of a probationary life, he shall surely reappear when all his dreams are realised and his schemes completed, as the ' over- lord ' of a new Africa bearing in its ripened civilisa- tion the impress of his genius in Rhodesia, a place three times as big as France. ' Si Monumentum requiris circumspice.' " About this time I was foreman of a jury before Lord Coleridge, the principal magistrate of the Queen's Bench Division, or to give him the higher- sounding title, which he invented. Lord Chief Justice of England. Striking in appearance, he embodied the refinement of subtlety, which he used with great fascination in manner and voice. The jury failing to agree upon the verdict, I announced this. There- upon the senior magistrate left the bench, or whatever you call it, and walked up to the jury box. With his suaviter in mo do and exaggerated courtesy, he began to flatter us all, and me in particular, upon our extreme wisdom. Affecting great humility he deprecated his own views, but in about ten minutes we were completely mesmerised into a unanimous verdict. I cannot for- get how cleverly Lord Coleridge persuaded me by his magnificence of manner. His son Stephen has the same gift, and Gilbert also to some extent. The former influenced me in exactly the same way to take up his cudgels at an annual meeting of the S.P.C.A. He mesmerised me into making a creditable little speech supporting his anti-vivisection hobby. Upon that occasion we got CHKONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 105 our motion carried. The while I felt creeping over me for the first time admiration of this mesmeric power, this influencing of a minority till it became a majority, this Coleridge doggedness of resolution clothed in the suavity of flattering rhetoric. Soon after I interviewed the late Sir George Lewis, or rather he subpoenaed me to give evidence. My interview ended amusingly, he telling me that a clergyman, a lawyer, or an impresario was a privileged being, because by the " virtues " of their respective callings they were entitled to go where others ought not to go. I have never felt quite sure whether I ought to feel superior or ashamed about this. I think at the time I felt rather vain about it, because it gave me a privilege over bankers and city magnates who uphold trustworthy positions. I had often observed that lack of this freedom made such men think twice before being seen at a music hall or even at night clubs. They wouldn't buy hot chestnuts at street corners without carefully looking up and down the street. It wants great qualities or very mean ones to crush convention. That great soul, William Ewart Gladstone, was traduced by his political enemies, because in the face of the unwritten law of convention he was seen trying to reform a lady in the Burlington Arcade in the broad daylight. The broad daylight was considered a special aggravation of the offence. Lord Palmer- ston was accused and ^20,000 claimed upon no evidence but a scandalous rumour. If I had been a lady I am afraid I should have greatly erred for the pleasure of being reformed by Gladstone or P aimer ston. A horrid game called " Ping-Pong " came in about 106 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS then, and was taught me by four players: Lady Diana Huddlestone, Mrs George Salting, Lady Dorothy Nevill, and Hamilton Aide. They missed almost every stroke, and one had to crawl on the floor under furniture to find the little celluloid balls. This occupation was trying, as my figure resembled a turbot standing on its tail. The game gave me the opportunity of often meeting Mr Salting, whose phenomenal gifts to the British and South Kensing- ton Museums and to the National Gallery caused such a sensation. It seems sad that one should die without knowing of a nation's gratitude! With all his generosity Mr Salting had a real horror of waste. One night I was in the smoking-room at the Con- servative Club with a friend. It was very late, when Mr Salting walked in and dehberately turned out all the spare electric lights. There was a great to-do, and letters of complaint were sent to the Club Committee. Upon the occasion of Tree's first departure to America I met Lord Russell of Killowen. Comyns Carr, Cecil Clay, and I were organising a large dinner to mark the event, and we decided to ask Lord Russell to take the chair. Time being of consequence, I went to the Law Courts and handed up a piece of paper on which I had written, asking the Chief to nod his decision. He was in the act of summing up something intricate and complicated, but he quietly blew his nose, read the question, and nodded " Yes," but never stopped his speech. Lord Palmerston said that in selecting a judge, he should choose a gentleman, and if that gentleman knew a little law, so much the better. Russell, though often cross-tempered, was both a lawyer and a gentleman. CHAPTER VIII Clubs and Club Stories— Some Things Theatrical— Sir Charles Wyndham — Sir Herbert Tree — Irving— Manageritis — John Hollingshead— Bernhardt— " Trilby. " The earliest clubs were street clubs that a man might run into from attacks of footpads, who infested the regions of St James' after dark. There were shops in the neighbourhood in those days where you could buy picadils or spear-pointed ruffles which were worn for protection. Possibly they were named after Piccadilly or Piccadilly after them. Here are one or two pensioned stories about clubs. One of the ferocious class, a famous duellist, G. R. Fitzgerald, was blackballed at Brooks' Club, whereupon he asked each member of the committee whether or no he was responsible for the blackball. " No, sir," each said. " Then Mr Brooks," re- marked Fitzgerald, " there seems to have been a mistake altogether, and as none of the committee have blackballed me I must be a member." There was nothing to do but to send the intruder to Coventry, and as nobody answered his remarks Fitzgerald arose, made a low bow, and took his leave. He was not allowed to enter the Club again, but he boasted loudly of his membership. Sheridan's election to Brooks' was opposed by Selwyn's political aversions. One blackball re- peatedly prevented his election, so Sheridan had 107 108 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS recourse to artifice. A note was handed to Selwyn that his house was on fire ; unsuspicious he fled, and Sheridan was promptly elected. Fox's love of play is well known. Walpole says, " Fox did not shine in the debate on the thirty-nine articles on 6th February, nor could it be wondered at." He played at Almack's twenty-six hours con- tinuously and only went to the House after losing ^ii,ooo that night. In three nights two brothers Fox (the eldest being under twenty-five years of age) lost ;(f32,ooo. At White's, Walpole tells us. Lord Chesterfield said to his son — it was, by the way, a natural son to whom he wrote his famous letters — " A member of a gaming club must be a cheat or he will be a beggar." The price for a game in 1780 was one shilling by daylight, two-and-six by candle- light. Dinner twelve shillings a head including malt liquor and dessert. As I tried to show in my Lyric chapter, entertain- ment at clubs was no new thing. There was a Lyric Club two hundred years ago. Story-telling, mimicry, imitation of actors, etc. occurred then, just as it did at our Lyric ; and Gibbon speaks of an entertainment at Boodle's costing ;^2000. Eccentric Clubs were common too in many forms. They were generally composed of mummers with nicknames. Sir Timothy Addlepate, Sir Skinny Fretwell, Sir Boosey Prate-All, Sir Pay Little, etc., who soaked their consciences away (wrote Mr Timbs). The Everlasting Club was perhaps the most interesting. Someone always sat in the chair night and day and the fire was never let out. This practice lasted for a great many years, and on 31st December, 1699, the committee met and CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 109 passed the resolution nemine contradicente, to sit out another century. The Oriental Club, called by cabbies the Hori- zontal, looked, in 1824, like a prison outside and a hospital inside, a smell of curry powder pervading the wards. It was thus described: "Writers and prigs grown into genuine bores, such is the nabobery into which the precincts daily empty their precious stores of bilious humanity." Let us hope, for the Oriental still exists to-day, that time has blunted the point of this satire ; if indeed it was ever justified. This same year, 1824, saw the Athenaeum Club started. Warned by want of funds of the necessity of keeping up their numbers, the members attracted candidates by the now threadbare method of spread- ing reports that it was the Club to join. Conse- quently, all the little crawlers and parasites and gentility hunters set out upon the creep, and they crept in, and were blown in by the winds of chance, seeking social standing rather than giving lustre by their talent. To-day, the Club has the best club library in London ; and is a great advantage to men who write. I beHeve Hook's Temperance Corner is still held in reverence. Certainly clubs act as conductors to the storms always hovering somewhere in the air; the man forced to remain at home and vent his crossness on his wife is a much worse animal to bear with than he who grumbles his way to his club, where he dare not swear at the club servants, or knock about the club furniture. There is nothing like the subordina- tion exercised in a community of equals for reducing bad temper. The Literary Club was founded in 1773 ; it became no CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS so famous that in fifteen years two Lord Chancel- lors and four Bishops were blackballed. Garrick liked the Club and said to Sir Joshua Reynolds : " I think I shall be one of you." Dr Johnson was much displeased with the act of conceit. " How does he know we will admit him ? The first Duke in England has no right to say he wiU be one of us." And, then, when Goldsmith put up for membership, Johnson sneeringly described him as " A man who has written more than he has read." Clubs and pubs were much the same thing in those days. Mr Speaker Onslow to escape from the atmosphere of thirty-three years in the House of Commons, in the year 1772, used to spend his spare time incognito " down at The Jew's Harp which is Hendon way," ingratiating himself with the host and family, until one day they discovered who he was, and then he never came back again. A century later, Mr Speaker Gully inverted this, and to escape from the atmosphere of the Lyric Club used to go for amusement to the Speaker's Chair in the House of Commons. More than three hundred years ago Chatterton wrote " a play to be performed at some Club, where afterwards they had music, mimicry, and sleight of hand," and so history plays battledore and shuttle- cock with the same conceit. At an election at the Royal Yacht Squadron many years ago the names of two candidates, a Mr Cox and a Mr Henn, came up for consideration, and though eligible in all respects they were both black- balled, '' Good heavens, are we to have Cox and Henns in the Club ? " " Certainly not," said the old members, and this was all there was against them. CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 111 I know one man so conservative that he turns the cold shoulder upon every new moon. The division of clubs from coffee-houses originated in the payment of a subscription, and the subscribers then introduced exclusive rights for members. In this way White's and the Cocoa Tree, both existing to-day, changed their character from coffee-house to clubs. They soon divided into classes, commencing by selection and drifting into election ; and then the blackball was first introduced, as a means of rejec- ting those undersirable in the judgment of the com- mittee. (Election will give place again to selection.) Boodle's, Brooks', the Guards', and Authors' were then considered the clubs of importance. White's being the most difficult of entry. Mr Drummond lost ;^ 20,000 at Brooks' Club to Brummell, son of a waiter, leader of fashion and friend of the King. In No. 78 of the Tatler, it is recorded that the Smyrna Club of Pall Mall advertised to teach gratis the noble sciences of music, poetry and politics between the hours of eight and ten, but members were to purge their brains with two pinches of snuff. At Will's Club you used to see " Songs, Epigrams and Satires." At Will's, Cromwell's cousin, an eccentric beau, fulfilled his high ambition of taking a pinch of snuff from Dryden's box, and then quarrelled with him about a frail poetess. At the Roxburgh Club in 181 2, Earl Spencer says ; " Twenty-one members met joyfully, dined com- fortably, challenged eagerly, tippled prettily, divided regretfully, and paid the bill, ^55, 13s. most cheer- fully." " They adopted Hook's precautionary measure of avoiding exposure to the night air by never going home till sunrise." Much water has 112 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS passed under London Bridge since then, but still the same untiring pursuit of pleasure goes on in club- life to-day. I have been a member of forty-six clubs of various kinds and was on the foundation committee of twenty of these clubs, but of the whole forty-six there are not many that live and flourish to-day. Copying from my book on club-land in which are preserved the signification of election and much interesting data, I give only the names of these forty-six clubs and cordially express my gratitude to their respective committees for having elected me to membership, they are : The Owl's, 8 St James' Square The Riverside Club, Maidenhead. (I was 15 years a member) The Meistersingers Club, 63 St James' Street The Corinthian Club, 8a St James' Square The Albany Club, Kingston-on-Thames The Cigar Club, 6 Waterloo Place The Lyric Club, 75 Bond Street, and Piccadilly East, and St Anne's Barnes The Cavendish Whist Club, 63 St James' Street The Maison Doree Club, 38 Dover Street The Beaufort Club, 32 Dover Street The Forest and Stream Club, 16 King Street The Junior Travellers Club, 12 Grafton Street The Hyde Park Club, Albert Gate The New Club, 4 Grafton Street (1893) The National Conservative Club, Pall Mall The New Lyric Club, 63 St James' Street The Green Park Club, 17 St James' Place and 10 Grafton Street The Wanderers' Club, 9 Pall Mall The City Glee Club, 48 Fenchurch Street The British Chess Club, 87 King Street, Covent Gardens The Thirteen Club (no premises) CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 113 The Players' Bridge Club, Bond Street, ,W. The New Vagabond Club (no premises) The Minerva Club, 38 Dover Street The St George's Club, Hanover Square The Piccadilly Club, Piccadilly The Sheen House Cycling Club, Richmond The Club's Yachting Association The Junior Conservative Club, 43 Albemarle Street The Wine Club, 46 Dover Street The Mayfair Club, 45 Dover Street The Cocoa Tree Club, founded 171 1 and still running The River Club, Taplow The Bowling Club The West End Supper Club The Constitutional Club, Windsor The Winter Club, Olympia The Saturday Supper Club, Grafton Galleries The London Musical Club The United Arts Club The Lawns Club, i Albemarle Street The Queen's Club, Maidenhead The Temple Golf Club, Hurley, Maidenhead The Manor House Club, Bredons Norton, Worcester- shire The Isthmian Club, Piccadilly A club and a motor-car have about the same average length of life to-day. Each of these clubs serves or served the purpose of its time, and contri- buted links to the continuous chain of club history ; half a dozen were social and as many were political. The Whist Club succumbed to bridge, the Bicycle Club merged in the motor movement, and the Night Clubs were temporarily or permanently raided out of existence. The River Clubs fell flat because the motors took members farther afield. The Riverside Club will not soon be forgotten. H 114 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS It was well managed by Meadows Taylor, and during fifteen years kept up the best traditions ; one might almost add took the River Club traditions with it when it closed its doors. For six years I drove the Club bus and pair to and from the course during Ascot week, and many a jovial day and night I spent there from 1888 to 1902. The Cigar Club might have gone on, for the members could buy cigars at wholesale price with- out intermediate profits. The Maison Doree^ the Minerva and all eating clubs were at best but mutes and mourners at the funeral of the Amphitryon Club, which was quite the best as well as the first and an acknowledged success. At the City Glee Club madrigals and mutton chops continue their attraction as they have done for wellnigh a century. The Cocoa Tree also existing to-day is the oldest of them all, having been founded in 171 1 and has a most interesting history. The New Vagabond Club, having no premises, is not strictly a club, but it is founded upon new lines and continues successfully. At the Thirteen Club they snorted loudly against superstition and luck, they dined thirteen at a table, had squinting waiters, coffin-shaped salt-cellars, broken looking-glasses, and sat under ladders ; the club was short-lived, but its members are mostly living still. Lord Avebury wrote a book to prove that there is no such factor as luck in human affairs, in which we all of the Thirteen Club agreed. Golf Clubs are too ancient and modern to dwell on. I remember the red coats playing at Blackheath in 1 87 1. This year, 1909, I joined the Temple Golf iHouera^^ 'S.mxi\w >\K(i... 'in.Wwi'nronviMljme.IifiMJviomooiv... no sutvw Ws,... ^wnm nfl i\ ,ft. wv'mmiiw aA'M,Vtak> c\wit.. .'miwuvwju.c!.. CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 115 Club, and was elected to the committee. A stick and a ball in various forms have ever been the joy of the Englishman. Croquet and bowling go on as of old ; the former was revived through the energy of Col. the Hon. C. Needham, known to his intimates as " Dot." The British Chess Club flourishes (it is a copy of the Chess Club founded in 1847 with Lord Ehbank as President). I remember on my first visit to the Club rushing in where fools fear to tread and asking a melancholy-looking foreigner to play a game. Members flocked round to watch the game. It was Laskar, and he won! The Winter Club at Olympia was a big idea and ought to have succeeded. I think the fog killed it ; the atmosphere was so dense that the Hghting became terribly expensive. Henley week knew the Isthmian Club for many years. It is charmingly situated in Piccadilly, once the house of Sir Julian Goldsmid, who lent it me twice for my private parties. Only public-school men were eligible, but three candidates who had not been to public schools were elected annually. Under this rule I became a member in 1903. I wanted a corner of London where I could find solitude ; I found it in crowds of old acquaintances! At last espying an elderly stranger I asked who he was. " Don't you know ? he threw the hammer for Oxford somewhere in the forties." I always grovelled to real greatness and was pleased to learn the precise indication of its standard, but timidly expressed sym- pathy with the forties and hoped they were outside the rope. And now I will pass on to things theatrical for 116 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS a while. It seems that my pen hovers perpetually between clubs and theatres. Everybody supposes that much evil is in the theatre — but nobody knows on which side of the curtain. Certainly the public of to-day would never whisk an eyebrow over the naughty dances that the Lord Chamberlain condemned as quite too wicked in the eighties. A hydropathic entertainment of to- day would be far more exciting than the dances " held up " when I was a boy. Instead of returning to Ceylon, I accepted the appointments of private secretary, treasurer, and sub- sequently acted as manager-in-chief to Sir Charles Wyndham and Sir Herbert Tree, and was elected a director of the Lyric Theatre Company, Limited, and of the Prince of Wales' Theatre Company, Limited. Programmes, framed and hung in promi- nent places in my little cottage, state in large type that I acted as manager-in-chief at Balmoral and once at a state performance in Dublin. Let me take my readers into my confidence, and tell them at once that I only got through the technical part of the ordeals through the loyal help of my assistants, who knew their work from years of experience, whilst at that time I hardly knew " prompt " from " off-prompt." What I can never entirely forgive myself for, is that I accepted really large salaries for doing little except supping with Tree and Wyndham, sitting up most of the night, being entertained by the most interesting people of my time, and making and keeping friendships. The first great actress I met was Miss Glynn (Mrs Dallas). She was the great Cleopatra of her time. When Miss Glynn was dying, she asked jne Jo CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 117 fetch Mr Henry Irving, as he then was, who returned with me at once in a cab. When they met, Miss Glynn, in a dramatic manner, asked him to call to mind the stripling she had ruthlessly dismissed from her company because of his lack of legs. This was Henry Irving, and the occasion was his first engage- ment. Having delivered herself of this little speech she burst into tears ; the doctor knocked at the door and said : " You must stay no longer." But I know that the meeting with Sir Henry soothed her ruffled spirit, for when he said, " Good-bye Isabella," she showed it in a smile. She never rose again and passed away two days later. The world understands the tearful humour of the Irishman, who once described Sir Henry's life as one of unbroken blemish. One day he called upon me to explain some slight misunderstanding. I was out, but when I returned I found on my table this charming letter from a man and an actor who possessed the definite and indefinable quality of distinction. " Dear Mr Munday, — I am sincerely sorry to have overlooked this matter, and I can only pray you to accept my apology for the inadvertence. " It has, however, one advantage in having given me the opportunity of reading a very charming letter, and if my shortcomings were always equally fortunate, I should indeed be a happy man. With all good wishes, " Very truly yours, " HxNRY Irving. -' 15a Grafton Street, '' 2ist February, 1892." 118 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS As everyone knows, Henry Irving was buried in Westminster Abbey ; I attended the funeral and sat in the chancel next to Ellen Terry. When the procession stopped a while, with its fourteen pall bearers close by us, we felt an atmosphere of " living silence," a momentary dawn of something not mourn- ful but rather inspiring, as silences so often are. I had felt this hush on a former occasion at the Jubilee Thanksgiving of our beloved Queen Victoria, when, acting as Honorary Steward in the northern transept, I " felt " the union of all the Monarchs of Europe in silent prayer. The luck of getting there I owed to Wentworth Cole who obtained the Lord Chamber- lain's permission to add me to the list, and best of all I was near the chancel. The success of a great actor manager produces a virulently contagious disease which we will call " manageritis." Every second actor tells you that he is looking for a theatre to start management, which generally means the choosing of plays with parts for himself to shine in, which is well, if he is strong enough to fill his house. But I have known men drawing ;^5o or ;^6o a week give up this certainty for the risk, to end in most cases with disaster. The struggle for existence is as bitter and keen, no doubt, in the world of acting as in the world where things are more real, but it is certain that Dame Fortune, when she waves her wand over the theatrical world, dispenses her wealth with a lavishness and generosity which is almost amazing. A play not too strictly moral, enabled a well-known actress a few years ago to add to her banking account a thousand pounds a week ; and single benefit per- formances have frequently yielded a profit of thou- CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 119 sands of pounds. I was present on the stage at Nellie Farren's when she reaHsed six thousand pounds. A striking contrast with a " benefit " a hundred years ago, which reaHsed a clear profit of eighteenpence ! and I have known something like that happen less than a hundred years ago ! It was never, perhaps, so costly to run a theatre as now, but the business of entertaining the world was never so profitable. Though the working expenses of some theatres may average nine hundred pounds a week, a week's good " houses " represent two thousand pounds, leaving a substantial profit for the fortunate powers that be ; but naturally with such prizes in view many run in the race for the sporting chance, who could comfortably have retired with moderate fortunes. The vicissitudes of actors' lives are not unknown to those who have lived amongst them, but these secrets are not for the world ; a brave front must be kept up at all costs ! My wife remem- bers Grisi and Mario, parents of Mrs Godfrey- Pearse of great musical distinction, staying with her aunt, Mrs Aide, some forty years ago. About this time artistes were becoming recognised socially. Hitherto they had only privileges in England. Even to-day an actor or singer who would go to Court usually gains distinction outside his art, in public service, as sheriff or county councillor, or by knighthood, to entitle him to the entree. A curious change or compromise is expressed in the following tactful letter, from an authority, who writes : " Many ancient laws obsolete by custom are left unrepealed lest liberty should run to hcence. There 120 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS is no rule or law which forbids the presentation of an actor or entertainer at Court. It has not, however, been the custom for the reason that the higher class of actors who might be received at Court have fore- seen that it would sooner or later come to be used as a means of self-advertisement." " Honest John " HoUingshead is not yet forgotten. He was identified with progress all along the line. He it was who brought over Sarah Bernhardt, and first produced an Ibsen play ; he it was who first abolished fees and produced the first result of the Gilbert and Sullivan collaboration, viz. " Thespis," at the Gaiety in 1872. He is almost as closely identified with Leicester Square as Baron Grant who gave it to the nation, but whose character is handed down to us in these lines : " Kings can grant titles, honour they can't. Title without honour, is but a Baron Grant.'" Clement Scott and Edgar Pemberton, both friends, died the same year as John HoUingshead. The former is remembered as much by the " Garden of Sleep " as by his valuable tribute to dramatic art. He was the critic of the Telegraph. Clemmie himself was a real good sort when he was not in armour or too lavish with emotional adoration of mediocrity ; he was a powerful person and he put in every ounce of ink with telling effect. Pemberton, whom I visited in Birmingham, was the author of memoirs of many eminent men. The mention of Clement Scott awakens many memories of Fleet Street friends ranging from Edmund Yates to Reginald Nicholson, the present manager of The CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 121 Times, Harry Brittain, and many others to whom I am indebted, but afraid to name, for fear of omit- ting some, there were so many, known to me as well as unknown, by whose pens I have constantly bene- fited. Perhaps now that I have no more to ask, my gratitude will be accepted as deep and sincere, but 1 cannot pass over one little episode which meant so much to me. I was quite at the end of my resources when a leader, giving a flaring account of my People's Palace work, brought me into prominence, and three offers arrived on the same day. I accepted Riviere's,* and managed his last season of promenade concerts in the nineties, and drew my first pay, ;^i2 a week, thanks entirely to the Press. Couplets and poems, epigrams and paragraphs have followed my work in the Press from start to finish and never an unkind line. It is difficult for me to say more, and tiresome to the reader to quote these kind Press notices in detail or illustration. Sarah Bernhardt I first met at a supper-party given by Hamilton Aide in his rooms at Hanover Square, at one time the Bishop of London's Palace. Amongst other guests were Sir Henry Irving, Miss Ellen Terry, Mr and Mrs Forbes Robertson, Mr and Mrs George Alexander, Mr and Mrs Tree, and Coquelin. Who is not obsessed by Sarah's overwhelming in- dividuality and happy manner? She kissed every- body except me, but she promised me that night that she would recite Armande Sylvestre's " Poemes d' Amours " and a date was fixed by her. Now I am * Jules Riviere told me he made ;^2000 out of twenty-two bars of music. It was the gem of Babil and Byon (1872)^ the Spring Chorus. 122 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS not a hasty disbeliever, nor a deliberate believer, but this took my breath away. When I had ex- pressed my gratitude, dreading that she might fail, I told Ellen Terry of my fears and hopes. She said : " Well, get them all translated, and if Sarah fails you I will read them in English ; but she will not fail you because she would be hurting her fellow- countryman, Armande Sylvestre, by doing so." And so both these imperishable personalities placed me for ever in their debt. Sarah Bernhardt kept her word and recited them all in French, and I felt ashamed of having doubted. My party was a success, those present of my guests were: Lord and Lady Londesborough, Lord and Lady Edward Spencer Churchill, Mr and Mrs Mortimer Menpes, the Honourable L. Hanbury Lennox and Mrs Lennox, Mrs and Miss Beringer, Joseph Knight, Miss Harriet Young, Mr and Mrs CeUier, Alfred J. Caldecott, Cotsford Dick, Senor Abeniz (who wrote the music for the tableaux), Senor Arbos, the Honourable Douglas Carnegie, Godebski (who arranged the tableaux), Mr and Mrs Cyril Maude, J. Comyns Carr, J. L. Toole, Hamilton Aide, Joseph Hatton, Malcolm Watson, Miss Gertrude Kingston, H. J. Thaddeus, J. F. Nisbet, Samuel French, Mrs Aria, Mrs Frankau, Walter Frith, Colonel Mackinnon, Sir Augustus Harris, Sir George Harris, Sir Augustus Adderly, Miss Marie Tempest, Miss Ellis Jeffreys, Miss Fortescue, Sir James Forrest, Lady Wantage, Lady Jane Lindsay, Lionel Brough, Sir George Power, Edgar Bruce, Richard Green, Alberto Randegger, Sir Randall Roberts, Miss Sedohr Rhodes, Ivan Caryll, Mr and Mrs CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 123 Walter Slaughter, Miss Geraldine Ulmar, Cecil Howard, Ernest Ford, the Misses Holland, Mr and Mrs Charles Kettlewell, Harry Monkhouse, Dow- ager Lady Westbury (the first President of our Green Park Club), George Smith Wright, Fred Upton, Mr and Mrs George Grossmith, Andre Raffalovich, Rosina Brandram, Mr and Mrs Jack Robertson, Miss Gladys Homfrey, Lionel Monckton, Miss Damien, Miss Lily Hanbury, the Honourable Evelyn Wrottesley, Lady Monckton, Mrs GabrielH, Mrs Toynbee and William Toynbee, Mark Ambient, Barton M'Guckin, Justin Huntly M'Carthy, Mr and Mrs Clement Ritchie, Malcolm Salamon, William Greet, Edward Terry, W. Yardley, Arthur and Amy Roselle-Dacre, Mr and Mrs Shakespeare, Henry Howe, Lady Dorothy Nevill, Mrs Beerbohm Tree, Miss Ethel Matthews, Mrs J. S. Wood, Lawrence Kellie, Miss Braddon, Mrs Carl Rosa, Lennox Browne, Lord Raincliffe, the Honourable Mr and Mrs G. Coleridge, Seymour Hicks, Charles Wynd- ham, Lady St Leonards, Lady Greville, Eric Lewis, Lord Henry Thynne, Mr W. C. Gully, Sir John Astley, Ladies Lilian and Mildred Denison, Miss Ellen Terry and Sarah Bernhardt. These have all signed my visitors' book and were all present ; they represented the moving spirits in the worlds within worlds at the period of which I am writing, and if apology is needed for printing these names, that is my apology. Sylvestre is the French prototype of our Swin- burne; he gave me his signed photograph and an unpublished poem. The Teutons have Maeterlinck, Wagner, and Ibsen, but not Sylvestre or Bernhardt ! Dear Sir George Macleay, greatly beloved by all 124 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS who knew him, who gave Botany Bay its name, told me that he visited a distant part of Australia where the inhabitants were just being converted by the missionaries who had not quite clearly explained that the New Testament was really not quite new. When the steamer came alongside the landing stage the natives welcomed the captain thus : " How do. Captain ? All well at Sydney ? How's the governor ? And how's Postle Paul?" I expect this story has leaked and eked out many a time, but Sir George told it me. I once crossed the channel with Armbruster, and after talking all the way discovered it was Richter. " Sorrow's crown of sorrows is remembering tactless days." I had not seen Richter since 1877, when Wagner threw down his baton at the Albert Hall amid one of the most dramatic occurrences ever witnessed in a concert-room — the two hundred and sixty English players did not understand Wagner's beat, nor his corrections. Wagner became nervous and looked about pitiably, he could stand it no longer ; then a thick-set sturdy Teuton about thirty- five years old mounted the rostrum, seized the baton, and in less than two minutes evoked order out of chaos, and made the name of Richter famous for ever. CHAPTER IX With Tree — Command Performance at Balmoral — Record Rush to Dublin — On Managing — Lord Beaconsfield's Tips — Buffalo Bill — Lyric Theatre — With Wyndham. After these events an offer came from Sir (then Mr) Herbert Tree, which I accepted, and became his private secretary, and remained with him for about two years, acting as his manager-in-chief part of the time, notably at Balmoral. Tree will take a high place in the history of his time, and find a ready Boswell to give the world a picture of the man and his art in true proportion. His fine sense of humour normalised the passionate forces of his temperament, saved many a weird situation, and kept us both young and well. At first I was merely the grey background to throw into relief his paradox and epigram; later I was something more. The more I saw of his character, the better it revealed itself, as whenever he wandered into the mazes of subtlety and complexity he stumbled upon naked truth, or at all events upon truth very lightly clad. Phosphoric events are inci- dental to an actor's calling, but as a man Tree was quite incapable of doing anything artificial or sham. He never thought in threepenny bits, but deeply and whole-heartedly, according to the interpretation of a poet and a dreamer. Yet, in the science of theatrical managementj( this 126 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS dreamer holds the world's record for commercial acumen. In his mental aeroplane he has got there, piloting himself in spite of adverse winds and without precedent or any reliable chart. I have known Tree to be experimental beyond the verge of rashness, and cautious to the edge of timidity, yet he never sought an example or feared an innovation ; neither would he admit difficulties until the crises were past. If a failure came, as it must to all, he seemed as proud of it as is a mother of her squinting baby. The actor's time is short, and he knows he must not defy it with undignified pertinacity. Time waits in the wings and mocks from the foot and top lights, and successive generations often discredit what is merely passed down by word of mouth. There is no record of the height attained in an art which is ephemeral. Tree acts five great Shakespearian characters in one week, and stages these plays to perfection. It needs time's perspective and retrospective rightly to gauge this amazing record. Once in Manchester he showed a bit of his quality. In the middle of an act he fell heavily and dislocated his arm ; although it hung loose he finished the act, and then calmly told me to put my foot under his arm, which I did, and gave it a smart pull. It got back into the socket with a snap and a click. I explained from the stage that this was the reason that Tree had to wear his arm in a sling ; the audience gave him a hearty cheer, and he got off with nothing worse than an advertisement. When he was playing Hamlet one night his wig came off. A young untried boy prompter had the extraordinary audacity or clever presence of mind to lower the Hghts slowly, almost imperceptibly. The scene was finished in the dark, thus preventing a CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 127 ridiculous situation. The boy's salary was doubled. I have known him to play to record houses of both extremes, both good and bad. The smallest was at Blackpool, where he shared honours with Augustus Druriolanus, who had brought Grand Opera there the same week that Tree brought Shakespeare, when both fell before the tyranny of the Yorkshire Football Final. I have only just discovered what can hold its own against football in the north, and that is football in the south. Gus Harris forsook his hun- dred occupations to come up to Blackpool to face matters ; for it was no child's play or risk to have Grand Opera with a hundred principals, orchestra, chorus and staff to provide for. He hired every brass band including the Salvation and Church Armies to parade the streets, but it was all of no use, the " flannelled fools " had it. Gus was a delightful disbeliever in the science of luck. " Luck be d d," he used to say. " Get the right players and plays and the public will go to the ball of St Paul's Cross or down the sewers to get there ! " But for once he was wrong. At Blackpool both he and Tree had pains in their cheque-books and inflammation of their pay-sheets, though neither ever had the silly supersti- tions which beset and besot smaller natures.. One of our provincial tours was cut short by a royal command. So we went to Balmoral with " The Balladmonger," and " The Red Lamp," both revolutionary plays, the latter by Outram Tristram, who sometimes came with us. 128 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS BALMORAL CASTLE September 2^, i8g^ A romantic Play by Walter Besant and Walter Pollock adapted from Theodore de Banville's " Gringoire," entitled — "THE BALLAD MONGER" Louis XI. (King of France) ... Mr Holman Clark Gringoire (a Ballad Monger) .... Mr Tree Olivier (the Royal Barber, enobled by the King) . . . .Mr Charles Allan Simon (a rich Cloth Merchant) . . Mr Lionel Brough Loyse (the King's Godchild) .... Mrs Tree Nicole (Simon's Sister) . . Miss Margaret Leighton Pages Miss Viola Tree and Miss Dora Barton Scene . . Room in Simon's House. and "THE RED LAMP" By W. OuTRAM Tristram. Paul Demetrius (of the Secret Police) Mr Tree General Morakoff Mr Tyrone Power Allan Villiers (of the New York Herald) Mr Charles Allan Prince Alexis Valerian .... Mr C. M. Hallard Ivan Zazzulic (a Russian Jour- nalist) Mr Charles Glenney Kertch (Servant to General Morakoff) Mr Holman Clark Count Bohrenheim .... Mr Leslie Thomson Turgan (a Sculptor) . . . Mr F. Percival Stevens Rheinveck Mr Willies Tolstoi Mr G. Mackay Officer of the Police Mr Montagu Servant Mr Edward Ferris Princess Claudia Morakoff Mrs Tree CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 129 Olga Morakoff (her Step- Daughter) Miss Lily Hanbury FeHse Miss Noel Madame Dannenberg . . Miss Margaret Leighton Countess Voelcker Miss M. Brough Madame Doravek Mrs E. H. Brooke Acting Manager and Secretary Mr Luther Munday Assistant Manager . . Mr Horace Watson Stage Manager Mr B. Shelton Assistant Stage Manager . . . Mr A. Wigley Perruquier Mr Clarkson In waiting at Balmoral were Sir Henry Ponsonby and Colonel Henry Byng, since Lord Strafford ; and Queen Victoria's guests were Prince and Princess Henry of Battenberg, and a large house-party. Just as everything seemed ready for the curtain to ring up, the battens and supports being all fixed to the floor and ceiling, it was announced that the Queen wished to be carried across the stage. The guests were assembled and seated. There was a long delay, and in the wings was the smell of Hmelight gas and hot workmen who simply blocked up every inch of the very limited space. Her Majesty's approach was in the midst of all the hammering and swearing, and it took about eight or ten minutes to unscrew the pipes, stays, and improvised fittings to make room to pass. Her Majesty looked ill and worn, but, in spite of this, took great interest in our doings and asked what this and that " property " was intended for. I had to say I did not know to some of the questions. Her Majesty wrote my name on a piece of paper and gave it to Sir Henry Ponsonby, kindly instructing him to allot me a seat in the Royal circle I 130 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS just behind herself; the Queen remarking that if a manager was not acting he could not have any occu- pation behind the scenes. Then, in a low arm-chair and with a footstool and table, the greatest living woman sat and the play started. It was a great trial in so small a space. In accordance with the custom at Balmoral I had to give up the little piece of paper as none of the Queen's writing except to personal friends was permitted to be retained. During the course of the afternoon rehearsals had been con- ducted under great difficulties, scenery and fittings having all to be specially made and adjusted, and the company had great difficulty in finding time to answer their many and important letters upon Bal- moral paper. One junior member wrote thirty-two. After the play, applause was led by the Queen tapping her hand on the little side-table with her fan, then Tree and the principal actors and actresses were presented. I read the names out to Sir Henry Ponsonby, who formally repeated them in a loud voice. My name was not on the list, and there was an amusing demur when Sir Henry became his own prompter and announced it. The Queen spoke a word or two to me, but in a voice pitched so low that I did not know what they were : a sort of tear in my throat is all I can remember. In a flash there seemed to come to mind all that this royal lady's life had experienced and witnessed, the monarchs of the world that had reigned and died, the cabinet ministers and innumerable officers of state, with their opposite opinions ; the wars, the world's growth, and all else that made history during this reign of fifty-five years. It was appalling to reahse that Her Majesty's was the voice of the greatest living woman in whom were CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 131 reposed the trusted traditions of Greater Britain, the power of rule and influence over one-fifth of the globe. But there was no time to think. We all went to supper, and I began fussing over the hour; it was one o'clock. Heavy responsibiHties were ahead. The company had to act in Dublin that same day. Prince Henry of Battenberg took in Mrs Tree and Tree took in Princess Henry to supper. The Queen herself only passed through the room. The restless- ness of incessant anxiety after about twenty hours on end suddenly slackened, and everybody talked, ate, and laughed in unaffected pleasantry; but the ghost at the feast was Dublin, and it was then nearly two o'clock in the morning. We were under contract, subject to heavy fines, and Dublin was, I think, sijc hundred miles away ! The supper-party must there- fore be broken up, and at once. I placed these facts before Sir Henry Ponsonby, and we stood not on the order of our going, but went ! Such a transformation scene in five minutes ; helter-skelter, bag and baggage, twenty trollies and private carriages, all noise and fuss. From Balmoral we went to the station at Bal- later, which was rudely awakened from its slumbers. Baggage was left on the road in the scurry, and two of the company as well missed the special train. I told the guard to affect to start and come back, which he did, and this was the only way of moving the company who were utterly indifferent to the tyranny of time. Then commenced our journey, which created a time record. The company numbered fifty- five people, there were seven changes of engine- drivers, we travelled over the tracks of four different railways, traversing some of the finest scenery in 132 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS Wales, Scotland, Ireland, England, and the lakes. The six hundred (or so) miles by sea and land took sixteen and a half hours. Most of us were sea-sick, or rather car-sick, in the little special train, which seemed to swing dangerously. The moderately rough sea seemed nothing to us afterwards. Part of the time we travelled at the rate of sixty-five miles an hour. Special restaurant cars were hooked on at certain points. When we arrived at Dublin, jaunting- cars met the boat, and vast crowds set up a cheer; we did not know why, but we found out the moment the curtain was raised promptly at eight, for then the Irish who had backed us set up salvos of cheers which lasted for three minutes. It happened that the sport- ing of little flags on maps exhibited in shop windows had marked our point-to-point race, and twenty-four hours' betting took place on the chances of our arriving in time. I did the settling up, which was merely a question of expenses. This was paid to Sir Fleetwood Edwards. In the old days there was a recognised representative of the acting profession styled the " Master of Court Revels," who used to pay on a fixed scale by an arrangement with the Privy Purse, but one of these gentlemen in the forties pocketed the bulk of the fees; he revelled himself out of existence, and thenceforth the office of Master of Court Revels was aboHshed. The exposure was effected by an actor who entered the police court and ostentatiously gave five shilHngs to the poor box, saying that it was the fee he had received from the Master of the Court Revels for acting before the Queen, and there was a great to-d about it in the papers. My friend, George Ashton, is the go-between 00 o a^ uTUvi^^'^-^" oo 00 D O CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 133 to-day, without the pretty sounding title of Master of Revels. A few words may not be boring about theatrical business generally. To anyone who knows nothing, and simply sits in a stall, theatrical management looks remarkably easy; but it is not. To manage an opera house or a big theatre may tax human powers as urgently as any position save that of a General in the very stress of battle. The orchestra, the chorus, the subscribers, the programme printing, the bill inspecting, the rival leading ladies, their contracts and their wardrobes, the newspapers, the box office and booking agencies, and the armies of hangers-on, the fixing of dates and arranging in fifty towns, and the transport of provincial companies all combine to demand tact, foresight, tenacity, and flexi- bility ; indeed, all the qualities required to make a good ruler or a good soldier. On the stage side of the house there are the master machinist with his staff of carpenters, the property master with his staff, the gas and electrical engineer and limeHght master in their respective departments ; not least is the treasury and the weekly payment of salaries. I had almost forgotten to include the manager's most diffi- cult task of all : he acts as a sort of trustee for every- body's bad temper, and, like the stock jobber, he must not deal himself with that which he holds in trust. In the daytime a theatre is usually filled with groups of actors while portions of a play are being rehearsed in every part of the theatre by touring companies and others. Here is seen a chorus of angels rehearsing in bangles and ear-rings, there all sorts and conditions jostle each other in the limited space, but the supreme authority everywhere is the 134 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS acting manager. To him the heads of all depart- ments present their weekly finance reports, and his veto still remains arbitrary. To pass on to the position of acting in relation to other caUings. Somewhere about the nineties acting was recognised, through Irving, as an art, he being bracketed with Lord Leighton and Sir Laurence Alma Tadema to receive the degree of Doctor of Literature at the University of Dublin. At the banquet which followed, acting, however, got a snubbing, for the toast of " Art " was responded to by Lord Leighton, P.R.A. He correctly, or otherwise, limited his remarks to the art of painting, and ignored acting altogether, and, worse still, Irving was not even called upon to speak. I forget what happened since to establish the histrionic art, or whether she is still looked upon as inferior to that of the wielder of the brush, but at all events her heights at least are attainable with equal success by both sexes. In this profession alone the claim of woman to equal dis- tinction is unchallenged. To mention only foreigners, Rachel, Bernhardt, Ristori, and Duse have been surpassed in their art by no man. Maybe the pig- ments used by the actor are really the author's brains, or vice versa, but how many rejected plays are wait- ing to be summoned to come up again for judgment if called upon.'' Though the best of feelings exist between the two creators of dramatic force, the writer and the actor, it is because it is so obvious that one cannot exist without the other. Yet it is equally certain that there exists jealousy in degree. I thought it a httle impertinent of a good playwriter who sent to the actor from whose talent he had made his CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 135i fortune, a piece of paper written all over with altera- tions, just as it left his brain, taken at studied artistic random from one of his plays. He had it handsomely framed and ostentatiously presented to commemorate an important episode in this famous actor's career. It reminded one of Lord Beaconsfield who, in 1851, with his oiled ringlets and meandering gold chain, presented in the place of tips to servants, quotations from one or other of his novels printed on white bordered silk with gold fringe. The latter was more admissible than the former, but both were ridiculous. Before passing to other personalities, I would like to pay tribute to two old friends of mine, both inti- mately associated with Tree for many years. Henry Neville and Lionel Brough. The former gave Tree his first engagement, and both received of him their last. They have died since I started this book, and with them died opportunities to renew annually pleas- ant meetings between mutual friends of other days at their houses. Passing on to other entertainers, Buffalo Bill was one of the biggest successes that America ever sent us ; he was one of the best, admittedly the greatest scout that ever lived (they do attri- bute to his influence the " Apache " scourge in Paris). He was a friendly guide for officers who wanted big game. We paid him great respect at the Lyric Club. A self-made well-bred who was not perpetually praising his maker. He had a good heart and, well— he confirmed all the tall stories English- men told about their sport in the Rockies. This was like giving them certificates of their sportman- ship, and it made him welcome everywhere. Buffalo Bill took a great fancy to Colonel Mackinnon. I 136 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS introduced them, and to the Rocky Mountains they went together. The Colonel became General Sir William, and commanded the C.I.V. in action and the Territorials in peace. " Mac " and I called on Buffalo Bill and found him in bad asleep He was a fine specimen of the natural and spiritual product; and he helped me at the Lyric. One afternoon he called with a coach and four mustangs and drove us, with John Gretton, a friend of evergreen memory, from our house to Olympia, where my wife and Lily Hanbury helped him entertain a thousand guests at tea. We lived then at 4 Park Row, Albert Gate, overlooking the Serpentine, Rotten Row, and both the driving past and the walking past. These, the only houses actually in Hyde Park, were then about ^50 a year rent, and the occupants of the four houses were Jerome K. Jerome, G. Ogilvie Haig, Mr and Mrs George Alexander, and ourselves. From i8go to 1894 I was a director of the Lyric Theatre, Limited, and the following works were produced: "La Cigale," by Bernard and Audran; "The Mountebanks," by Gilbert and Cellier; " Incognita," by Bernard and Lecoq ; " The Magic Opal," by Law and Albanez ; " The Golden Web," by Stephenson and Goring Thomas ; " Little Christopher Columbus," by Sims and Caryll ; and as I said before, the epoch-making Eleanore Duse made her first appearance in this country. " The Mounte- banks " would easily stand a revival, notwithstanding the melancholy fact that Lai Brough and Harry Monkhouse are both dead, and Sir W. S. Gilbert too. The music of this piece was commenced by Sullivan and finished by Cellier. " Little Christopher " marked the first appearance in England of Miss May CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 137 Yohe, erstwhile Lady Frances Hope with a lovely contralto voice and a very taking manner. " La Cigale " was a delightful play, and saw Dolly Ulmar in her best piece of acting. She had created nearly all the leading soprano parts in the Gilbert and Sullivan Operas, and possessed charm which, like Mary's better part, shall not be taken away from her! Of the Prince of Wales' Theatre, Limited, I was only on the board of directors for two years. " L'Enfant Prodigue " was there produced ; a play without words, and for a time dumb show became quite a vogue. The other plays I have forgotten, except " Miss Decima," written by Bill Yardley. When the Imperial Institute was opened in 1893, it had much to contend against. There was a very showy list of patron organisers, who had little power of initiative in this particular Hne. Among other blunders was their attempt to make this beautiful institution into a sort of club, after which it fell to the level of a deadly respectable cafe chantant. How- ever, there it was, and we all of us had to help. The fine old Lyric orchestra of amateurs moved there in a body, and Frank Butler (since famous in the ballooning world), Alberto Randegger and I tried to utilise all this splendid voluntary organisation for the permanent interests of the Institute. With the approval of King Edward, I was appointed honorary secretary; but there was the paid secretary. Sir Somers Vine, with whom I never could pull. I could not brook interference or criticism. Vine was a hard-working and loyal servant to the Institute, but he allowed valuable forces to evaporate for want of tact. He forgot, what is often forgotten, that voluntary workers naturally want a little coaxing and 138 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS some encouragement. But here there was always the paid go-between suggesting and criticising with- out possessing any better technical knowledge. The end of it was that the appointment of honorary secretary was abolished, the orchestra disbanded itself, and the concerts died a natural death within a year. I think this was a pity, and need not have happened. I know I meant well by my work, but certainly made no efforts to serve the red-tape officials whom I never saw. I have tried in these memoirs to check personal prejudice, and as most of the actors in this comedy of errors are gone, it had perhaps been better taste not to have written a word upon the subject. Anyway, I will say no more. Many years ago an acquaintanceship arose between Sir Charles Wyndham and myself. I thought him so courteous, clever, and unaffected both off and on the stage, so natural, graceful, and forceful. I suppose that he thought that I managed the Lyric Club well, and upon this experience he offered me the post of treasurer, and temporarily I acted as his manager-in-chief. My appreciation of Sir Charles did not decrease upon closer acquaintance. I drew his cheques, and found that many were in favour of the forgotten great, who had fluttered and radiated their beauty and talent before an admiring world, till age and untoward causes had lowered the curtain on their careers. If I may express Wyndham's kindness in metaphor, he lowered a safety curtain between the acts of many a drama with no advertisement upon it. If it offends him to tell of this, I plead it is my first offence, and will not repeat it. On ist May, 1896, he celebrated his twenty years' management of the Criterion Theatre, and did it in no half-hearted CHKONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 139 way. He asked twelve hundred guests to a sit-down supper at the Hotel Cecil on its opening night, and asked me to act as master of ceremonies, as he could not get there before 11.30. This entertainment cost him a pretty penny, but besides all this hospitality to social and Bohemian London, he gave the proceeds of his day's work (^^245 2, 6s. 4d.) to the Actors' Benevolent Fund. On this festive occasion Comyns Carr, with his usual tact and taste, spoke " The Congratulations to C. W." who replied as we all supposed he would, and as few actors could. Actors, as a rule, only speak what is allotted to them, but Wyndham and one or two others can speak their own with most. Incessant work is good for no man, but some great men are never injured by it. I know of several cases ; Charles Wyndham is one. His career everybody knows. He served in the Federal Army in the American Civil War. He first appeared as an actor at the Queen's Theatre in May, 1869, and I hope the chronicler of his last appearance has yet to be born. Coquelin said that Wyndham in his style of acting had not been eclipsed. A word about play licensing, which is causing some sensation of late. Perhaps the form of stage licence may be of interest, so I give a facsimile. The play referred to lived but a single day, but it produced ;£55o for the Waterloo Hospital. It having been represented to Me by the Examiner of All Theatrical Entertainments that a typewritte^i copy entitled " The Assignation " being a Comedy, 3 acts, does not in its general tendency contain any thing immoral or otherwise improper for the Stage I The Lord Chamber- lain of HIS MAJESTY'S Household do by virtue of my 140 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS Office and in pursuance of the Act of Parliament in that case provided Allow the Performance of the said typed copy at your Theatre with the exception of all Words and Passages which are specified by the Examiner in the endorsement of this License and without any further variations whatsoever. Given under my hand this 22nd day of Dec. 1905. G. A. Redford, Examiner of Plays. ALTHORP Lord Chamberlain. THE PROGRAMME For the benefit of the Royal Waterloo Hospital for Women and Children : In the presence of Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Albany and many ladies and gentlemen interested in the hospital. Mr Luther Munday presents a new and original satire in three acts entitled " The Assignation," by Mr Hamilton Aide. Also The first stage production in England of " La Ballade du Desespere " by M. Murger and Herman Bemberg at the New Theatre, London, kindly lent by Sir Charles Wyndham on Thursday, December 7, 1905. Following a previous performance given by the same caste at the Grand Stand, Ascot, by permission of the Trustees, on the preceding Monday under the patronage of H. R. H. Princess Christian of Schleswig-Holstein. The play has been rehearsed for about six weeks in as many theatres kindly lent by their respective Lessees. Mr Shiel Barry has stage managed under Mr Aide's direction. CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 141 The Hon. Arthur Stanley has acted as Treasurer with the assistance of Mr Leverton and Mr Mills. H.H. THE Ranee of Sarawak with the Grey Friars Orchestra have provided the music. "THE ASSIGNATION" A Satire in Three Acts, by Hamilton AiDl. PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. Sir Claude Flamborough Mr Shiel Barry The Earl of Strongitharm . Mr Harvey Long Lord Grimsby . Colonel Calshot Randal Goring . Philip Lewston . Rippingale Smith, Butler Thomas, Footman John . Mr Ralph Alderson . Mr Bertram Steer Major Norton Mr Gerald Du Maurier By permission of Mr. Chas. H. Frohmann . Mr Leopold Myers Mr Erin Maturin . Mr R. Walter Mr Henley Attwater Lady Flamborough . Countess of Strongitharm Lady Grimsby . Mrs Lewston . Lady Marcia Steele Mrs Rippingale Miss Honiton . Mrs Screwton . . Miss Ethel Irving By permission of Mr. Tom B. Davies Miss Marie Illington By permission of Mr. Paul Rubens Miss Genevieve Ward . Miss Edyth Olive By permission of Mr Lewis Waller Miss Diana Raymond Mrs Augustus Loftus Miss M. Milman Miss Florence le Clercq 142 CHKONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS I have something to relate about a Ucence. It occurred during my term of office with Tree. Tree produced " Trilby," and a stage licence was neces- sary for the protection of English rights. Several dramatic authors were writing against time to adapt Du Maurier's masterpiece and produce it first upon the English stage ; Tree was in America and wired me to protect Paul Potter's version, and to im- mediately carry out the rules of the Lord Chamber- lain's department as to the granting of a licence. Accordingly a bill was printed and exhibited outside the Haymarket Theatre announcing the performance of " Trilby." According to law, somebody had to pay for admission, so I went into the street and gave somebody a pound to come, who bought a "stall, and was the only member of the public present. The real play was on the high seas en route to me, so the only course open was to write a skeleton play myself, culled from the novel, and to call it " Trilby," drama- tised by Paul Potter. I explained this to Mr Piggott and Mr Tupper, the licensor and deputy-Hcensor of plays (Bendall and Charlie Brookfield were of later date), and also that negotiations with Mr Du Maurier for the sole rights of the play had been properly arranged with Mr Tree. They told me that under the circumstances the copyright performance might hold good for the time, but that directly the real play arrived it was to be lodged at the office of the licensor. This was accordingly done. The curtain went up on the three acts with just sufficient text copied from the book to make a skeleton plot ; there was hardly any dialogue. I forget who read my sheets of foolscap, but I know there was not a single actor or actress amongst them. I took the part of CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 143 Svengali ; the charwoman read the part of " Trilby," in boots and stockings, so she may or may not have had inverted dimples on her little pink toes; the carpenter and the gas men read the other parts. We used any scenery that happened to be set, and thus was produced, simultaneously in New York and London, one of the greatest successes of its day. What a comedy in itself is this comedy of censor- ship. Springtime should be censored — she whose first breath radiates greater influence than all the books and plays, good or bad, written since the world began. CHAPTER X The Animals Hospital — Vivisection — F. W. H. Myers — Maeter- linck — Sir John Astley — Stepniak — Goring Thomas — Pelle- grini — Browning — Beardsley — Sir Henry Thompson — Henry Arthur Jones — Ouida — Zola. For many years I have been honorary treasurer to the Animals Hospital of the Dumb Friends' League, acting as chairman more than once at the annual meetings. There I began to experience some side- lights of the feminine heart-beat regarding animals, especially on the subject of vivisection, when it heavily and lightly syncopates and bombinates some- where between a bomb and a bon-bon. Their general meetings were, however, guided by a committee of taste, nay, sometimes even by taste itself. I do not mean to be critical, for they all work very hard, and enthusiasm ought never to be discouraged even if it takes oblique turns. The Animals Hospital (Our Dumb Friends' League), Hugh Street, close to Victoria Station, deserves help and needs it. Time was when maidens got them to a nunnery, but it is more satisfying to help the Animals Hospital, with personal interest, and it is certainly a shorter cut to selfless love. I am afraid my opinion upon vivi- section is broadened down to this: in one's effort to discover cause or effect it might be more humane to experiment upon rabbits than to blunder amongst the vitals of hospital children. I admit, however, 144 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 14^ that there are few subjects that draw more violent opinions than this vexing subject of vivisection. To one person it is combined sensibiHty and sentimenta- lism. Such a one will weep over the sufferings of animals, even though sacrificed in the most sacred of causes and by the most humane of beings, and yet perhaps the same person will take little account of real cruelty, even if inflicted from pure wantonness. A keeper sets his traps, a rabbit gets caught by the leg, and dies in agony, while its young are left to slowly starve. Trimmers are set, and the big fish finds himself caught, and has to wait until exhaustion settles him, and nobody minds! But everybody means well ; even the duck didn't mean to be insolent when he shouted Quack! Quack! to the doctor as he left the bird department of the hospital. It is difficult to hold the mean between science and senti- ment. Ruskin resigned the Slade professorship because science beat sentimentality at the Sheldonian polls. Religions take various views about animals: Mohammedanism consigns the dogs of Constantinople to an island, there to perish of thirst, hunger, and madness ; they think this more humane than killing them. On the other hand, in France, from the reign of Henry IV. to that of Napoleon III., masses were said on the feast of St Hubert for all dogs of what- ever breed. It is rare, however, to find a fine, all- round character who hates animals ; quite ordinary to meet good people who don't understand them, and I know many scoundrels who love them. It is disappointing that holy writ gives little guidance as to chivalry, patriotism, or love of anmals. To pass on to general benevolence, Daudet, whom I met at Hamilton Aide's (I am told his work advances 146 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS in French esteem as Zola's declines) disliked animals, and yet he was both lovable and generous. He used to run past mournful starvelings, pressing five-franc pieces into their hands, and then run away and call it his practical joke. Hamilton went with Daudet to see George Meredith. He confirmed Sherard'^ story that both of them hobbling with their infirmities gripped hands heartily on parting at the station, but could not unlock their fingers, which were stiff with rheumatism or gout. As the train was moving out of the station, Sherard seized Meredith round the waist with both arms and forcibly broke the grip. One day in 1888, we had a little table-rapping; and some great minds take this so-called spiritualism seriously. At this party were Alec Yorke, F. W. Myers, Hamilton Aide, Mr and Mrs Alfred Scott- Gatty, Lord Ronald Gower, Ranee Brooke, my wife and myself, and one other. The whole thing seemed to me then, as now, little more than an interesting round game ; but after reading " The Survivor of Man," I feel dissatisfied that I never took the slightest serious interest in psychic research. In his book, Sir Oliver Lodge wrote thus of F. W. H. Myers: " To the few who were privileged to know F. W. H. Myers he is a precious memory, a memory that will not decay with the passing of the years. I esteem his friendship as one of the privileges of my life." Myers married a cousin of my wife's, and I remind myself with regret how often I let golden chances pass by of knowing him whom merely to recall is to-day a delight. Such a one, indeed, was Myers. Walks and talks we had at Ascot. Once the subject was Christian Science, then a new vogue. It is as much how a man listens as CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 147 how he speaks that makes for charm, and Myers was a Hstener who drew one's best without crushing one's naturalness by superiority of manner; therein lay his fascinating personality, at least I thought so. Over and over again he repeated, as if to himself: " Sin and sickness are mortal error, both of them unreal." Again : " With the destroying of sin comes the forgiveness of sin." I never quite knew whether he accepted these tenets; he discussed them with much breadth and gentleness. The last words I heard him say on the subject were these : " Whether it is easier to say thy sins be forgiven thee, or to say arise and walk." The spell of his influence did not pass with his presence. Of his writings I was not competent to judge. George Windham says of them, " The only recent essay in poetry that chal- lenges comparison with Shelley is Myers' ' Virgil.' " Thirty of the leading critics of the world to-day have in turn Hkened Maurice Maeterlinck's writ- ings to Marlowe, Webster, Poe, Ibsen, Shakes- peare, Swedenborg, Carlyle, Goethe, and Schopen- hauer; and found an affiliation to the great Stoic Marcus AureHus and the Pre-Christian sages, Socrates and Plato. My humble tribute extends to his personality, he is so human with proper solid muscles and sturdy build ; he keeps the love of music within bounds of moderation, he is a voluntary exile, he wished no more than a modest post in the pubHc service of his native Belgium and it was re- fused him. His government declined to make writers functionaries, and did not decorate writers because they were not functionaries ! Maeterlinck refuses her overtures now; he finds his expansion outside his country and his century and beyond their periods. 148 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS Another friend of the same period was the late Augustus Hare, he of the beady eyes and humorous mouth, who told ghost stories and wrote clever guide- books, who told me how he came into possession of Queen Anne's old statue from St Paul's Churchyard. He asked permission of the Bishop of London, the Lord Mayor, the Dean of St Paul's, the County Coun- cil, and the Archdeacon of London to take it away. They none of them had power to say " Yes," and they none of them seemed to wish to say " No," so he quietly walked off with it, and there it stands an imposing figure in his garden near Hastings, but it cost a small fortune to get it there. One used to come to him for information upon most subjects, and rarely came in vain. There are many admirers of his water-colour painting. Of the old order which I wish never changed were Sir John Astley (The Mate) and his two cousins. Sir Wroth Lethbridge and Sir Henry Brownrigg, all three dead, but deeply held in affectionate memory. The Mate sent me the first copy of his " Fifty Years," but admitted, when I reminded him, that he had forgotten to put in the following story : " A young thief starting on his career at Ascot was enterprising enough so secure The Mate's watch and chain the first day. He took it to the chief of the gang, who congratulated the lad and told him that he showed great promise, but asked him who he stole it from. So, when the gang found it belonged to The Mate, it was immediately sent back; but the boy did not know why, and expressed his apology thus : ' I beg your pardon, sir, I did not know you was one of us.' " The late Lord Henry Thynne, a friend of whom I hold so many pleasant memories, told ipe he re- CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 149 membered as a child in the " three bottle days " a page boy whose sole duty was to loosen the long neckcloths of the guests after dinner, to save them from choking. One has heard of the special pro- fession of a dice-swallower, a man who was kept in certain gambling hells to swallow the dice in case the place was raided; but perhaps the strangest of ec- centric professions was that of a humpback who let out his hump by the hour for the use of stockjobbers to write on during a panic or a boom. It was Lord Henry who gave me carte blanche to bring who I liked to his house most week-ends at Brighton. I exercised the privilege, and we were all very happy, and very often too. There I met the great Panjan- drum of the Conservative party. Lord Abergavenny ; together they asked me to lunch with them at the Junior Carlton to judge cigars. I thought I detected in Lord Henry's merry twinkle some practical joke. We had played so many upon others that suspicions were watchful. Martin, the best club secretary that ever lived, brought round several boxes of cigars, keeping to the last a wonderfully got-up box printed over with every sort of Spanish and other inscription, which no one reads, as very few can. When we came to the cigar we first took off a gold leaf, then a silver paper, then its little cumberbund. During all this Martin described its marvellous quality, which the other judges confirmed. I grew suspicious and threw mine in the fire. It was a risky thing to do, but I was right ; the cigar was made specially for beginners, and though, like the curate's egg, parts of it were ex- cellent, parts were not. Stepniak, the Russian revolutionist, used a vitriol pen. His views stood for wiping tyrants off the 150 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS face of the earth. He had a voice gentle and sympa- thetic Hke a young dove's. Miss Holland and I, dressed appropriately, went to hear him speak in Hyde Park once to a large crowd of chubby little anarchists. John Burns, then a sociaHst, was also speaking in the Park. It was quite an exciting even- ing. Stepniak, after passing nihiHstic dangers, was killed in London, run over on the underground rail- way. His personality left a pleasant impression, though he did murder a Russian. Like Stepniak, poor Arthur Goring Thomas was killed by a passing train. His tendency to self-depreciation hampered his brilliant opportunities ; he had absolutely no com- mercial push, but his lost gifts as a composer are not unwept and not unhonoured ; but if unsung only because the royalty system gives the singer little choice of songs ; he sings for speculative publishers nowadays. Arthur Goring Thomas was, as a com- poser, influenced much by Gounod. I was with him and Randegger through the rehearsal of his " Nadeshda," and call to mind Barton MacGucken's fine performance. He wore a false putty nose, which completely changed Mac's Irish appearance. I think Mile Baldi (now Lady Tosti) created the name part, or it might have been in " Esmeralda," also written by Thomas. Some part of the former opera he wrote in our little flat at Park Side, where Lawrence Kellie and Frank Lambert also composed early songs of theirs. I have been honoured with the dedication of a score of songs, and I feel much pride and pleasure in recording and acknowledging this compliment. Rutland Barrington, Kellie, Mrs Salmond, Edward Solomon, Miss Holland, Hamilton Aide, Hope Temple, Maude Valerie White, and many CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 151 others have dedicated songs to me, some only in my album; but fifteen songs have been pubHshed with dedications upon them, and some, I blushingly add, also bore the words, " sung by Luther Munday." These lyrical god-children serve as beads of my rosary of friendships. As a singer I never merited such tributes. I am reminded of Sir John Millais by a letter from his daughter, who writes : " Perhaps your book will go to America and be the means of discovering my father's greatest subject-painting, ' The Crown of Love,' for which Miss Dorothy Tennant sat. It was bought by Mr Vanderbilt and sold at his death; but its whereabouts is unknown, and it was never reproduced or photographed. My father enjoyed painting Lady Stanley and Mrs Frederick Myers, he admired them so much, and at that time enjoyed such good health and great spirits." I used often to meet Sir John at the Lyric. A precious document I insert here, a letter from Ruskin which ought to have been addressed to me as it was an indirect answer to my letter to ask his help for a mutual friend in financial trouble. This was quite a number of years ago, and I cannot exactly remember the date, and Ruskin's letter does not help me; but his) literary trustees, both old acquaintances of mine, E. T. Cook and A. Wedder- burn, gave me permission to publish it. It serves no purpose to mention the addressee ; the name frequently appears in these memoirs, but the subject is private. " Pardon my sending you a brief note (you will probably think you have much more to pardon). It 162 CHEONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS was wholly impossible to write to you before this morning, the documents had not returned from my lawyers. We have examined them, and if anyone else were willing at the moment to lend you the money, and I heard of it, and thought Mrs cared for my opinion, I should say ' Don't borrow it.' Take instantly what must come, then live in two rooms, and lay by your money. Both you and your good wife will work with ten times the heart, when you put your money in bank, that you would to pay for living under a gilded cornice, and to liquidate a debt. It is far more difficult for me to say this, when I am myself the person to whom you appeal, but I say it decisively nevertheless. " Ever sincerely yours, " J. RUSKIN. " I write to my lawyers to-day, telling them to assist you by any protective measures in their power, if things come to the worst." It is not for me to comment on this picturesque figure, but one looks in vain for evidence of his economic theory and social conditions, and when- ever I ask information from painters and architects concerning Ruskin's contribution to the theory of art, they say he talked beautifully ; and the spirit of this letter shows that he also wrote beautifully, so what matters though some writers bracket his failings with those of Samuel Johnson and Carlyle? To come back to more familiar reminiscences. Carlo Pellegrini, with his uncut nails an inch beyond his finger-tips, his ignorance of English, which aftr,r years of being petted here only grew worse with time, was a quaint personality ; professionally known '^ -l(.''A»,tVa -ii/ in- / -^,/ >1 T i. "-"■■■■■■ ."l ■ >x ttc-J--,. ^, , MRIEF CHRONICLES OF Mr. George Du Maurier. Earl Roberts, K.G., K.P., P C Ruskin. G.C.B., G.C.S.I., G.C.I. e' Sir Joseph Barnby. O.M., V.C, D.C.L., D.Lit .Sandow, 1889. LL.D. Ellen Terry. CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 153 to the world as " Ape " (he and Leslie Ward were the greatest caricaturists of their day). Many an afternoon have I sat at Pagani's in Great Portland Street listening to his quaint idiosyncracies, and his good-humoured but quite unnecessary jealousy of other artists, leavened with unconscious profanity. Conversation was kept up by Isodore de Lara, Tosti, and Mario de Costa and others, who related their ex- periences and took part in many practical jokes. I remember them whitewashing a cab horse. " Sem " and " Max " are the virile leaders for the world of caricature at the time I write. Perhaps some are unaware that " Spy " drew for " Vanity Fair " a year before " Ape " joined the staff. Among my treasures are twenty-one original drawings by " Spy," all gifts from this incomparable caricaturist. I think I have said that I met George Meredith at Sir Walter Palmer's when he lived at Reading. I remember Meredith saying that he could only speak sitting down ; standing up to make a speech killed his ideas. He lost something by his suggestion that marriage should be only on lease; but I shall not tattoo these pages with efforts at criticising, only try to call to mind sayings and doings of those whom I have met. Israel Zangwill said that the two greatest writers who have sinned against the laws of writing are Browning and Meredith, the one in verse, the other in prose. Here are a few more acid drops: Carlyle said that Walt Whitman wrote as though the town bull had learnt to hold a pen. In earlier days, Pope said of Dr Johnson that a dictionary maker might know the meaning of one word but not of two put together. Neither Browning nor Emerson saw anything 154 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS in Shelley's poems. Carlyle speaks of Bronte's Rochester as a wooden figure in the shape of a man. Swinburne speaks of Rochester as the one supreme masculine figure. Carlyle of Browning, " For my soul's salvation I could not make out the meaning of this Agamemnon." Carlyle of Swinburne, " There is nothing the least intellectual in anything he writes." Keats, the son of a livery-stable keeper, appealed to Tennyson as the greatest poet of them all ; while Carlyle said of Keats, " Isabella might have been written by a seamstress who had eaten rich food and then slept upon her back." Heine described Liszt to Chopin as a swaggering little insect ; George Sand said of Chopin there was nothing constant about him but his cough. She called his heart a cemetery; he called hers a necropolis! But to return and chronicle my friendships. Twice I dined with Browning, once at H. A.'s and the other time at Mrs Toynbee's. She was the mother of Arnold Toynbee, whose work is a common-sense remnant of the pre-Raphaelite ideals. The personal impression Browning made on me was not command- ing, though it was a refreshment to have met him, and it exercised a spell over the imagination. Other forces seemed to be working in his nature. He regarded the fact of being born a poet as some secret he was delighted to conceal. He was content with associates so much his inferior in intellect, and his interest in society amongst dull people and surround- ings were surprising to the onlooker. He never suffered from boredom, and in manner he was sincere, and when he left we certainly missed his personality because his reputation stood so high. One would hardly have been surprised had he been introduced \:,. n, /.I. /-.^ ,. ^ /^.n-U. »■' ''■'^*-'^ ■ / / ■ CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 155 as a leader in any branch of social life ; but I fancy one would not have judged him a poet, much less as the man who shared with Tennyson the laurels of the nineteenth century. One of his sayings is : " Beauty is a symbol of hidden worth, and the flesh a demonstration of spiri- tual handiwork." When we spoke of clubs, he told me that the Athenaeum Club, I think it was, had once posted his name as defaulter by mistake, although the banker had paid his subscription ; " I came down on them like thunder," and he thumped his fist. It is said that he knew nothing about " Sonnets from the Portuguese " till two or three years after his marriage, and he wished he could have kept them for himself and not have published them. The following will interest because it is generally supposed that his famous poem, " Good news from Ghent," was historical or legendary: — " 19 Warwick Crescent, " May 29th, 1885. " Dear Mr Munday, — ' Good News from Ghent ' is neither historical nor legendary, being altogether an invention of my own. I wrote the poem at sea, inspired by the wish to be once more on the back of a horse at home. All the rest is imaginary. " With every kind wish, " Believe me. Dear Mr Munday, " Yours very sincerely, " Robert Browning. " To Luther Munday, Esq., "117 Park Street, Park Lane." Swinburne said that Rosetti's " Sister Helen " is 156 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS out of all sight or thought or comparison the greatest ballad in modern England. Again, to many of his contemporaries Gray was a tangle of difficulties, while critics of authority said later that Wordsworth, Shelley, and Coleridge wrote unintelligibly. But of our own poor Browning what did they not say? Tennyson speaks of Bacon's essays as " bundles of antitheses offering weapons to combatants," and of William Morris that " he has gone crazy." Carlyle remarks of Dizzy, " I wonder how long John Bull will allow this Jew to dance on his belly? " One man talks of " The inspired prophet of Sanity." Away trot all his little followers in rhapsody about so wonderful a phrase. Listen to Oscar Wilde on George Meredith. " Who can define him ? His style is chaos illumined by lightning. As a writer he has mastered everything except language. As a novelist he can do everything except tell a story. As an artist he is everything except articulate." Then read in contrast Le Galliene's wonderful and constant appreciation of the Master. " He sings of nature not because he worships her in some vague, far-off way as one might the abstract woman; but because he has loved and worshipped her as a man his wife, lying in her arms eye to eye, breath to breath. He has lived with her day by day for many years, he knows all her moods of summer and winter, of joy and travail, strange moods of contradiction hard to bear, yet, alike in one as in another, he has never lost his faith that her heart is love, love the great volcano." Byron said that " Southey had a fine head, and that nothing but taste was wanting to make the inside equally attractive." It seems as if egoism was surely the supreme psychological link r^ ->~ /;*" i-^'j^ijana ii^yy' ;.... 77"^ '^U-/fy -.:^#Ba:u^tini:i.rj^.. . s^pr i.\^o Races agains t. Csm bncigcAS ; -^;r j SIX wggks' hos pitality -^y-. ■^CVL^ ,\lkA^ Cm-^ 4«^ ii.>^4^'''^^'^'^^ K^^v.oiA??'?^, rui ^^\v>c:>cv,t Oj^ iut^ 'hM^ Txi^' "iuM/ , / Ur^- BRIEF CHROXICLES OF . ^, , Justin H. McCarthy. Oxford University Boating Clul.. Garter King-of-Arnis. \V. H. Mallock. Rudyard Kipling. CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 157 between them all. Le Gallienne and Aubrey Beards- ley I had met at the Lyric, the latter an English boy born at Brighton in 1872, died in his twenty-sixth year, a famous man. His drawings, almost always in black and white, were " perverse " in EngUsh and per- haps morbid, but they are regarded as unique pages in the great portfolio of the world's art. He himself a prodigy and a genius, was ill when I knew him, con- sumption having already claimed him. Of his art, perhaps the best example was of Mrs Pat Campbell ; it hangs in a place of honour at the Berhn Museum. The only honour that England has done him up to now is through the medium of the auction-room, where the price of his work stands high. The auction-room is the pubHc purse that registers the fluctuating value of works of art — art is merely opinion. ;^ 14,050 was recently paid for a painting by Hoppner, a man who was popular, totally eclipsed, and triumphantly resurrected, all within the century. He was the rival of Sir Thomas Lawrence. My friends Berenson or Lionel Cust or Claude Phillips can, by opinion, make a picture worth anything or nothing. Sir Henry Thompson was a doctor of medicine (one of the sciences which resembles art in that it is not fixed). His social flight took him beyond the boundaries of his profession. He wrote as " Pen Oliver," was a fine painter and art critic, and almost the first advocate in England of cremation ; one of his patients who died after an operation was Napoleon HL French repubHcans sent Thompson a letter warm in thanks for his humanity in having so ably made away with a tyrant. His " octaves " were much sought after. These were dinner-parties of eight. His 158 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS guests were chosen for their conversation, which was regarded by him as the hall-mark of intellectual merit. Henry Arthur Jones (I forget if his name is forti- fied with a hyphen) I have known in connection with the production of his plays by Wyndham. For some charity a play was produced in which all the acting parts were taken by authors. The late Cap- tain Marshall insisted upon the much-coveted " And " being placed before his name in the playbill. " No," said Burnand, " you cannot have the ' and ' without the 'art'!" I felt a shock when I was introduced to Quida at the Langham Hotel, whither I was taken by a friend to counteract any emotional display of grati- tude that she might show; for poor Louisa de la Ramee was at that time in a chronic state of hard-up ; friend after friend took it in turn to help her. My earliest literary susceptibilities revelled in and were satisfied by her drawings of guardsmen, who bathed in scent, and of ladies who threw guinea peaches at flies; but Guida's description of sensuous luxury is Sunday-school writing compared to Pliny's on the same subject ; he says that Cleopatra gave for use in her bath the equivalent of sixteen pounds sixteen shillings per pound for unguents of scent, impercep- tible to the person inundated with them, but percep- tible to others. However, Guida's silly vanities and petty weaknesses disappear when she writes about her beloved Florence and about animals. When I gazed on her I thought of Verschoyle's words : " I had lived long enough to know that there were other feminine virtues in this world besides that of chastity." I recollect a reception at Drury Lane supposed to have been given by litterateurs, in honour of CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 159 Zola, who was paying a visit to England; the reception was not well represented by men of letters. Flying adjectives, bitter adverbs, and poor little orphaned ailches got in; by invitation, too. You really had to hold up your feet, they dropped so heavily. So I whispered to Sir Augustus Druriolanus, who was organising the affair, in classic verse, " Make Zolaesque this damned burlesque, and dance to the Guards' string band." " Righto! " replied Gus, keeping to the classic style, and signalled to the orchestra, which struck up a waltz. I danced with Madame Zola. Round the suburbs or the outskirts of my charming partner I revolved, while she like a gyroscope seemingly firmly planted turned on her own axis ; and Mrs Munday danced with Zola. During the intervals, Zola said many interesting things: that he never badgered his actors with instructions when he super- intended the production of a play, but left them to follow their own initiative. Also that he was rejected at his examination for the Baccalaureate degree through inefficiency of composition. It is strange that he never got the violet ribbon ; but in a comforting sort of tone, as if he were consoling himself, he said, " that neither Gambetta, Lamartine, nor Balzac had ever received the red ribbon of France." Since then I have read what Mr Sherard published, and only wish I had known it soon enough to tell it to Zola, though he, of course, knew it, namely, that a minister of public instruction in France, having lunched well, handed the list of those who were to receive the Falmas Acadamaques to all who were in the restaurant, and asked them to add their names if they chose. They chose, and in due course they 160 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS all got the violet ribbon which was denied to Dumas and Zola ! Among Zola's memorable sayings is this : " The knowledge of vice is necessary for the con- stituting of virtue." On the occasion referred to elsewhere, when I met the late Sir Robert Peel, he told me that he recollected the Speaker temporarily vacating the chair, and, accompanied by the majority of the members present, adjourned to watch the race for Doggett's coat and badge as it passed Westminster. Also, that on a motion by Pitt, the House of Commons adjourned and went down to the theatre to see Betty play " Hamlet." So it would seem that Doggett and Betty played an integral part ^n the national life. It is well enough known that Ministers always keep closely in touch with the Press; but read the Delane Memoirs to find the true relations that existed. It is difficult to credit the actual grovel- lings of great Ministers of State to the editor of a great daily paper The Times. Never can one sneer again at the chicken and champagne methods so often the cause of quarrelling between actor-managers and critics. A friend who knew a little about billiards and chess told this amusing story, that he had beaten the amateur champions of England at both games. " You see," he explained, " there is no merit about it : I played the champion billiard player at chess, of which he knew nothing, and the champion chess player at billiards, of which he knew less." From time to time, after the manner of weaklings, I fancied myself a little at writing sonnets, notwith- standing the fact that I had had one snubbing from Yates, editor of the Worlds " Twenty years have CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 161 passed," said I, " and I may have improved"; so I sent up to Sir James Knowles this time my sonnet called " Why do I live ? " His reply was, " You live, dear Munday, because you sent your poem by post and did not bring it yourself." " All but two of you are rogues, thieves, and liars ! " exclaimed in my presence a certain noble lord, white with anger, in a billiard-room at a little pot-house. Instead of a huge scene, I noticed that all the little crawlers' faces wore a satisfied smile, and wonderingly I whispered, " What can this mean?" "Well, you see," said his lordship in a shaky tone, " to save the situation I said all but two ; really every one of them were blackguards, but if any one had shown his annoyance, he would have admitted that he was excluded from the two." Here are six lines written me recently by my old friend Sir Gilbert Parker, M.P., who has already accom- plished so much that much is still expected. We met over Tree's production of " Seats of the Mighty," and his lines are apt in a book of friendships : " Give me the light heart, Heaven above — Give me the hand of a friend, Give me one fine high spirit to love — I'll abide my fate to the end. I will help where I can, I will cherish my own, Nor walk the steep way of this world alone." Gilbert Parker. " To Luther Munday from Sir Hubert Jerningham : "They call me friend a polyglot, Le glot n'est pas terme poli, What I may be I do not wot, Mais je suis toujours votre ami." CHAPTER XI Portraits — Sculpture — Miniatures — Whistler — Yates — Moore — The- atrical Reflections — Hermann Vezin — The Censorship — J. M. Barrie. One day, just for sport, I drew the likeness of the editor of an illustrated paper. I had drawn hundreds of portraits before, but this one led to my getting commissions for over half a hundred portraits in chalk, which I produced within two years. In the pursuit of technique I fancy I lost much of the little gift of getting a likeness. I have seen a child draw a likeness with a reality which lessened by taking lessons. There is a great gulf between natural talent and trained effort. George Belcher gave me technical advice most kindly. I made quite a little money so long as I was keen at it, and I felt very proud at seeing my drawings exposed at railway stations. The following have been pubHshed: — H.I.M. The Emperor of Germany Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman Ulster King of Arms Mrs Eddy General Sir W. H. Mackinnon Lord Londesborough Lady Virginia Sandars Lord Headfort The Hon. Stephen Coleridge Lord Battersea General Sir Bindon Blood 162 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 163 Joseph Chamberlain George Alexander H. Herkomer Keir Hardie T. P. O'Connor M. Massenet H. Plunkett Greene Lady Bective General Botha Forbes Robertson A. Chichele Plowden Winston Churchill Leslie Ward George Meredith Cyril Maude Rodin H.S.H. Prince Alexander of Teck M. Coquelin The Ranee of Sarawak Sem Maxim Gorki The Master of Elibank Sir Herbert Tree The late King of Portugal Frank Lambert Sir John Hare Lloyd George Mrs Pat Campbell Kennerley Rumford Fanny Brough His Majesty King George More or less flattering letters came from some sitters, and some called to express appreciation, amongst whom was Rodin. It is the same in all things. Those who have experienced the difficulties are the kindest in their criticism. I soon became aware that the principal value the public attach to illustrative art is the subject value of the hour, that is why so many of my drawings were of 164 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS party politicians in power at the time, whom I was commissioned to draw at short notice. Few artists can choose their subjects. Stocks can be transferred in the wink of an eye, but it is unfair to try to pay for art by the time it takes. This reminds one of the foundation of Whistler's fame as a wit, who, when asked in court if he did not complete the particular work in a few hours replied, " Yes, but it took me my lifetime to learn how to do it." A Belgian friend, Jan Van Beers, a great painter living in Paris, used to come over to England every year and give an exhibition of his works. He was very popular and wished to celebrate his departure by entertaining his friends, so asked me to help him. Between us we drew up and carried through the following programme. About eighty of the leading artistes and litterateurs accepted his invitation, no ladies being invited. The Duke of Marlborough took the chair, and from Blenheim sent fifty young oak trees which were placed all round the table, making a forest frame- work for Jan Van Beer's pictures, and leaving over- head a white space for a calico reflector. After each course the lights were suddenly turned out. First hundreds of live birds were let loose from an enormous pie, then the trees were lighted by electricity, then Spy's portraits of many present were reflected from magic-lantern slides on the ceiling. There were bowls of perfume, and the light shone through pink-silk tablecloths, on tables made of very thick glass. Speeches by leading artistes ; last of all the divine Melba, unseen, sang Gounod's " Ave Maria " with Holman's accompaniment on the 'cello. Quite entrancing it was, beyond all description. IAN VAN BEERS. f^^ // -A^t -(> i^/L-M.,.*^ 4p/ a C^ / '^hyx^^^.'-t^- ^^^^^ ^ /' PADEREWSKI. CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 165 Let me now turn to the sober subject of sculpture — which for a time I undertook seriously and enjoyed most thoroughly. I had a set back at two clubs where art for art's sake was the test of eligibility — and where, unlike the Arts and the Garrick Clubs, they did not suffer amateurs gladly, and I honour them for their consistency — though I felt naturally hurt when my first portraits in bronze were returned and I was only allowed to enter the clubs as a guest ineligible for membership because my art fell short of the standard test. Sculpture is not exactly what it seems to the uninitiated, wherefore I will explain briefly the road one has to travel. The sun on sensitive media depicts what the eye does not see ; that is like the discerning eye of art, the hidden force in the artist. Some suppose that a sculptor simply chips at a stone, but this is not so in this age. A rough outline in iron is first provided to support a model in clay ; there are about twenty tools, but the sculptor generally uses two, namely, one finger and one thumb. The support is fixed to a revolving stand, for, unlike painting on the flat, sculpture must be perfected from every angle. The clay must be kept damp till the model is finished (possibly a year) to prevent unequal shrinkage, then a plaster model is mechanically taken from the clay. Ladies who wish to vary typewriting and hospital nursing may be glad to know that quite a comfortable income may be made by plaster casting. It is not necessary to have capital or the least artistic taste or talent, only common intelligence and a patient desire to acquire the necessary technique, but this is a digression. 166 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS The artist practically ends with his clay. Whether the clay when finished is to be completed in marble or bronze is a matter to be settled outside the range of art. Pointing in marble is practically the same as it was thousands of years ago, and in the British Museum you can still see the black points faintly defined on the antique marble busts. The sculptor only puts the finishing touches, leaving the rest to mechanical labour. So little does this labour draw upon creative art that it can be done equally well by the mechanic upside down. Houses and the climate are unsuited for sculpture in England, indeed there is a great deal to discourage this art. Only portrait commissions are profitable. The risk and expense attached to sculpture are excessive ; a hundred pounds can easily be spent on a block of marble, and when the last chip is being removed there may be only then revealed a dis- colouration of the marble ; one of the eyes may be black or the tip of the nose, which would render the whole of the work ridiculous. Then there are the sitter's fees, about five pounds a week, sometimes lasting for months, and the pointing fees about the same, and this may go on for months. Then the chance of the work not being accepted at the galleries, the risk and expense of getting it there and back, and last but by no means least, the chance of not selling it at all. One often hears of a sculptor whose work has cost him out of pocket from a hundred to a thousand pounds, only to be followed by the mortification of having it sent back to his studio. In these depressed times sculpture and spite are about the most expensive of luxuries. A critic in sculpture must be acquainted with its technical subtle- SCULPTURE. (Archbishop Mathew) BY LUTHER MUKDAY. CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 167 ties, for no art is more subject to tricks. An antique bronze for instance could be reproduced and tricked in colour by the skilful use of acids ; even in still life, remember that age is not always venerable, something intuitive ; an appreciation of the small things all go to make the sum of quahty. In short a sculptor must have feeling, must be able to draw a likeness and reduce or enlarge it in true proportion without relying on measurement. A sculptor must not feel annoyance if his work is dependent upon top light, because it is only to be found in specially prepared rooms. He must remem- ber that there is nothing either beautiful or ugly in sculpture but shadow makes it so ; that a bull's-eye lantern throwing light horizontally upon Michael Angelo's work would reveal it without form and void. Colour is got by shadow ; black eyes are only deep cuttings, and pale-blue eyes merely the surface less deeply depressed. My httle knowledge of sculpture was picked up by watching artists. H.S.H. Prince Victor of Hohenlohe, Countess Feodora Gleichen, whose fine work adorns Hyde Park, and Lord Ronald Sutherland Gower, whose memorials of Shakespeare ad rn Stratford-on-Avon and are re- produced at Hammerfield. To the dislike for measured work and a disregard for social convention was linked in Lord Ronald a fine taste (he it was who first suspected the Rokeby Venus), a most versatile brain, and a distinguished and sympathetic personality. There were others who were kind. Colonel Macleay, the Hon. George Gordon, and Captain Wilkinson Ulster King of Arms. 168 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS These amateurs, with advice and critical help, started me in the pursuit of an art that has given me more genuine pleasure than any other pursuit. Friends, too, amongst well-known professional sculp- tors: George Wade, Gotto, Zeitlen, and Derwent Wood, A.R.A., welcomed me at all times to their studios. This means that their models permitted me to be present when they were sitting, which was the first recognition I experienced as an artist, for it is not the thing to allow a mere novice into a studio where a model is sitting. A story is told of a model who fainted because she detected an inartistic gaze, and I love to believe that the Susannahs still live who faint in the face of the elders or youngers. It is one of the pleasures of my declining months to spend a day in the studios at Chelsea and to accept hospitahty at the Chelsea Arts Club, where I meet the best and the ablest, who love their art for art's sake, and are free of silly side and affectation, and who will not elect candidates, as I said before, who are mere loafers. I have produced up to date in plaster, marble, or bronze, portrait busts of the following, and exhibited them at small galleries : — General Watson < Admiral Dunlop Sir Archibald Napier, Bart. Edmund Dickens Miss Laura Bush Miss Lily Hanbury Mr Wilde, of Egham Captain Mountenay Jephson Hamilton Aide Major MacMahon, F.R.S., R.A. CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 169 David Bispham Mr Price Mrs Howard (nee Irene Bishop) The Vicar of Bray Lord Wrottesley Major Clement Cecil Mocatta Matthew Horan Miss Seymour Colonel Chesebrough Colonel Black Colonel Sir Fitzroy Clayton, K.C.V.O. Sir Henry Vavasour, Bart. Archbishop Matthew, D.D. After tiring somewhat of sculpture, I made some efforts at painting miniatures. I did not get far towards success in this. Lord Tankerville, perhaps the best amateur, helped me with this letter : " Pick out other people's brains but do not smother your own individuality ; copy and closely examine Cosway and learn what use he made of gum, you will find that for the flesh tints a wash of colour with gum is first put on, it is then worked up without gum, then gum is used again after the deep shadows are laid on, but only then. Compare bad work with Cosway's and see the results of excessive use of gum or body colour or both. Use a wet brush and a minimum of colour, and do not hide the ivory's texture. This is the result of my own meagre experience." Alfred Gilbert, a genius without a guide, was a great English artist at his best. I last saw him at Bruges in 1907. In some respects Gilbert reminded me of Whistler. One day I strolled with Whistler along the embankment up to Chelsea Bridge — a more disgust- ing time could not possibly have been chosen — it 170 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS was icy cold in a yellowish fog with a soupgon of frozen rain and an east wind — he was enthralled with the beauty of the scene, as one in a trance — I caught a chill mentally and physically. Years after Derwent Wood took me through the same antics — his studio is close to Whistler's house ; and now I am develop- ing the artistic soul plus a taste for thick boots and heavy underwear — but both Whistler and Wood were indifferent to these material conditions. Whistler before his time created a new taste, and became bankrupt for want of a manager. Whistler's house and all his belongings were sold for a song. Hundreds of pictures (think of it!). In later years one picture was sold for ^5000. I was with Mr and Mrs Whistler the day before they crossed over to Paris, and shared the last meal in their house in Tite Street. (What a book could be written about Tite Street!) We had two chops be- tween us three and beer ; he and his wife each gave me a portion of theirs, and we sat on packed boxes. I never knew him as " Jimmy," and my friendship was not intimate enough to offer them solace. I felt this the more because I discerned forced merriment in their manner, obviously to hide the deeper feelings. Whistler was a misanthrope and keenly sensitive. His wit does not read well, it depended so much upon himself and upon his manner and was fanned by his uncompromising hostility, not only to critics, but, so it seemed to me, to the world generally. He openly struck Augustus Moore in a theatre. He lived, how- ever, to see his claims as an artist shift first from obscurity, then to toleration, then condemned heartily, then approved within the limits of a cult, then so ^•^iMV^.- , iv^ MORTIMER MENPES. CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 171 passionately proclaimed that his greatest admirers found difficulty in keeping the pace which they themselves had set. I have a dozen stories about him but I am afraid they are all known and blown. The best drawing chance I ever had from life was behind the scenes at His Majesty's Theatre when Henry Irving, Tree, and CoqueUn, all three together, stood to me a while, but though Coquelin accepted my sketch it was hardly worth lighting his cigarette with. Art unlike philosophy is seen through tempera- ment ; let no chill or doubt put out this eternal fire. Respecting temperament, Garrick said, " If you can- not make love to a table or a chair as well as to the finest woman in the world, you are not and never will be an artist." This is about what Sir WilKam Rich- mond meant when he said that the nude or the dude are as one to the man obsessed in his art. Solomon J. Solomon I met in early days when his work was skyed. Mrs Langtry, with whom I was walking round on an opening day of the Academy, pointed to the works of R.A.'s on the line and wittily remarked that even Solomon in all his glory was not R.A.ed like one of these. All about models might be interesting, but space is limited. The model of all time was Aspasia, the mistress of Alexander the Great. She has never been missing from the Altars of CathoHc Cathedrals. She has suppHed the features of the Virgin Mary for Raphael, Corregio, and Titian, and even down to our Sir Joshua Reynolds. I remember as a child, eight years old, going to Shute's Theatre in Bristol and seeing Kate and Ellen 172 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS Terry, Madge Robertson (Mrs Kendal), and Henri- etta Hodson (Mrs Labouchere) whom later I saw as Jack Sheppard in Old London at the Queen's. Years later Charlie Jerningham and I dined en famille with the Laboucheres and we helped Dora Labouchere (now Marchesa di Rudini) at her first party. One of the games was to drive a team of ten children blindfolded. My team fell down- stairs, but only their mothers were hurt. Labouchere was a great theatrical manager; he had in his com- pany at the Queen's, Wyndham, Henry Irving, Toole, and Ellen Terry. Both Charles and Hubert (now Sir Hubert) Jerningham were friends of mine. I met the latter in 1888, and Charles for twenty years has been a joy to me with his witty cynicisms and warm-hearted friendship. Another once familiar friend, now dead, from whose political principles traceable descent is ob- vious in certain quarters, and at whose supper-parties I met the most amusing people, was Edward Fairfield, C.B., of the Colonial Office. If he had not been bound in the clerical routine of a government clerkship he would certainly have attained distinction as an artist. Here is an amusing story about him. I noticed how shabby the carpet was in his room at the Colonial Office. " Yes," he said, " you see that hole ? That was worn through by A. B. asking for knighthood. Things got to such a pass that it amounted to this, either the C. O. must buy a new carpet, or A. B. must have his knighthood — result — knighthood ! " Edmund Yates links one with the past. " Dear Munday, — You must not expect to succeed in every line of life, poetry is certainly not your forte." CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 173 This was long ago, when under a summer influence I wrote a very stupid sonnet, something about a lady who gave me the key of her heart and changed the lock the next day. I am thankful to him for not having published it. Thackeray and Yates quar- relled, and Charles Dickens intervened. As Yates would not apologise, his name was removed from the list of Garrick Club members, and then Thackeray made it up with Dickens on the stairs of the Athaeneum Club a few days before he died. This is the gossip of long ago, yet it seems but yesterday that I met Yates and found him one of the most interesting personalities, actor, journalist, and friend. He appeared exceedingly free, open and unre- served with everybody; yet he retained enough self-restraint to preserve the respect of his friends who never witnessed weakness of character or aught that could sink him in their esteem. Clement Scott I knew and Hked; he taught me to give up where to pursue would mean absolute failure. Influenced by him I tried during these intervening years to dissuade dozens of men and women from going upon the stage because I saw no chance of their succeeding. Sometimes I made mistakes, and I can point to several — and they point to me! — who have succeeded by acting and singing contrary to my advice ; but I cannot ever remember being thanked for saving many more from disappoint- ment or worse. The consequences are dire, when, too late to retrace their steps, actresses are led through vanity and incompetency farther and deeper than they can foresee. Temperament and beauty are wild things let loose, and a failure behind the footHghts is more than it seems. 174 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS How little indeed is known of the intoxication of the stage, still less of the brave hearts that adorn it ; and nothing at all of their struggles upon a mere pittance, quite insufficient to clothe, food and house them. Go to the large-hearted successful actresses, and ask them to unravel the mystery and troubles that surround the alluring lights and shadows of stage life. They will tell you that I am right, if redundant in expression, and perhaps point to a useful help centre known as the Rehearsal Club in Leicester Square, where the humblest actresses can enjoy the independence of club membership on a merely nominal subscription ; where they can get their own food cooked for them and rest between matinees, rehearsals and evening performances, and chatter all in the quiet of their own company, away from the allurement or the torments of men. They will also give warning how difficult it is to retire from the stage bondage to which it is so tempting to return. Perhaps they will say that those are the happiest who die in harness, full of years, because they live out of themselves in their calling and keep up illusion in forgetfulness. They may say that the theatrical profession often numbers recruits of a retiring, bashful nature, who mean to remain on the defensive, but rub shoulders with others, many of whom are riding for a fall. Read in the Era the long weekly list of actresses that are " resting." " Resting " is the strangely eloquent word that may mean anything, perhaps merely worrying about to-morrow's dinner. It is used in advertisement as a brave reminder that the actress is out of work. I intensely disUke reading plays, but at four CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 175 theatres I had to dissect plays and give a written report upon their suitabihty or otherwise for produc- tion. The tiring and tiresome analysis had to be given in full in those days ; it is not so elaborate to- day to explain to the author if and why his work was not acceptable. The play, over which a writer had perhaps spent a couple of years, stood to be accepted or not upon the slender claims of my untutored judgment ; my anxiety was sincere, but anyway only one play in a hundred is ever produced. An author runs the chance of making many thousands of pounds, but the chance is all against the production of his play. An authority states that in America nearly twelve thousand plays are rejected annually. Yes, play- reading is very anxious work; one may condemn a good play because it is not suitable to the principal actor or accept a bad play because it has one fine part. Experienced actors readily admit that they themselves are naturally prejudiced judges ; one such in my mind has been notoriously fortunate in his selections all his life, but he frankly admitted to me that the taste of the play-going public was most difficult to gauge; more difficult still to influence or lead in any new direction of thought or style of production. Even in musical comedies there is grave risk in the changing of style. Mrs George Edwardes asked me to come with her on the first night of change in the venue at Daly's, reminiscent of Augustin Daly, when the old favourites were replaced by artistes little known, and a new form of musical comedy was to take the place of burlesque, where the star system had practically ruled. It was a question that night how 176 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS far the regular habitues would accept the new condi- tions ; then I learnt how unerring was the judgment of George Edwardes. The public followed him in perfect confidence. He knew his public. Most people know that each theatre of standing has, or had, its own clientele ; a good judge could in olden days tell you what theatre he was in by the audience, but this was many years ago. There are too many theatres and tube stations to-day. Who does not remember the German Reed public? you would know them anywhere, quite content so long as they had their Corney Grain, alas! never yet replaced, though George Grossmith and Tom Clare have been the best successes in their day and way. Most of us remember the old-fashioned Adelphi audience too, which looked for thrills and insisted upon getting them. This audience went over to Lewis Waller when Terriss died. Then, as now, the stars had their followers irrespective of the plays, but the multiplicity of stars divides the light more equally, and the barriers are now almost removed which separated the music halls from the theatres, when the halls piped the tune, and so-called comedians bombinated in a vacuum. D'Oyley Carte's stock company was the most suc- cessful musical combination of modern times; and Mr Benson's and Sarah Thome's the best schools for drama and comedy. It is a delightful memory to be able to dwell upon long years of acquaintanceship and sometimes intimate friendship enjoyed in the companionship of record makers and breakers whom merely to name would fill many pages. How I wish we could meet again at those wonderful dress re- hearsals at the Savoy, to take one theatre, filled as it CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 177 always was with mutual friends who sat up half the night to hear Gilbert (the hero of more inverted commas than Shakespeare) make his usual pretty speech at the end of the rehearsals: " Principals, Director, Orchestra, Managers, and Chorus, if the play succeeds, the credit is yours, if it fails the fault is ours," and in these few words he wiped away all the little severities and asperities that are insepar- able from the trials of a long rehearsal. Ah well! if things are not what they used to be, at least it is consoling that they never were. When I left Tree and Wyndham there were about two hundred plays yet unread, but long before I left I was supplanted at my own request by able readers. Quahties that a reader required were scholarly training, business-like knowledge and temperament. The reader, Hke the stage manager, must be born, not made. I was neither. I will give the reader the legacy of a few scraps of information I picked up in those years. Generally a play is written on commission, some- thing is paid down and forfeited if the play is not subsequently produced within a given time, then a royalty is paid upon gross receipts fixed according to the position of the author. Statements are made in the papers with apparent authority regarding royalties. According to one of them " Chanticleer " showed returns (that is, takings) averaging £66^ a performance, and Rostand drew twelve per cent of this, /500 a week. In another recent case it was stated in court that certain royal- ties rose to twenty per cent. I quote these cases without comment. I have never known of any royalties approaching these rates, nor artistes' salaries M 178 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS approaching what is advertised. Sweet are the uses of advertisement! Sharing terms are fixed with the provincial managers in the provinces according to the status of the actor manager and his company. Much of this in the very nature of things must be labelled confidential, and would be unfair to reveal. As regards the manuscript of a play the usual method is to agree upon the exact text between the actor manager and the author, before the agreement is signed, after that not a word must be altered without the author's consent, though I have known suc- cessful authors who are indebted to actors for embellishing their plays. But the author generally controls his writing, and although the actor can make or mar to a great extent, he cannot really make a bad play, nor easily mar a good one. " Hamlet " has never been a complete failure with any actor (I have seen). Great poets and fiction writers may be ignorant of theatrical technique, as was Tennyson, who had to learn that there were many dramatic tricks of mechanism, colour, and movement which made for the success of a play, quite outside its literary merits. Of course, men like Pinero and Stephen Phillips, who have been actors, can use their experience with greater effect, but every writer of plays who knows little of the stage is well advised if he enlists in his service some expert in dramatic ways and effects ; and lucky is he who knows this and surrenders prejudice and vanity for a time. It is very interesting to be at the author's reading of his accepted play, and to hear him read it to. the company selected to act in it. There you see a great deal of character. CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 179 The play being usually written round the actor- manager, he knows all about it ; but the company do not know their luck till the reading is over. No one dares to speak or express appreciation or otherwise. It is a forced atmosphere and each is keenly listening for his particular part. Once I heard Waller read a play so magnificently that we all became hysterical. The next day when we had time to recover our normal condition we all agreed that the play was dull and boring, and it was rejected. This reminds me of Ellen Terry, who, before reciting a poem by an old friend. Sir Alfred Lyall, commenced by describing the plot of the story with such tender passion and natural pathos that the poem itself sounded flat and artificial, scotched by her personality emitted in the description. When the rehearsals are finished and the play is produced, then and not till then is the easy time for an acting manager. It is like what was said by a famous war minister when hostilities had really commenced, " Thank goodness, now I can take a holiday." A play, like a war, should be all thought out and pre-arranged, and the cleverest organiser is he who sits in his chair and orders operations. The cost of producing a play ranges between five hundred pounds and ten thousand pounds, so there is much money risked in the choice. I know of eighty thousand being lost on one play, and of course some successes have produced as much profit, No reminiscences are complete without a line about handsome, breezy Terriss, so splendidly described in Ellen Terry's memoirs. One day he took me to a London Hotel, I think he owned it. He took out a bundle of letters 180 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS accompanied by photographs of himself, which languishing ladies had sent him to sign. " Here, Mary," said Terriss to the barmaid, sorting them in ten different little bundles, " sign these ' Yours sincerely,' these ' Yours faithfully,' these ' Thine aye,' these ' Your sincere friend,' " and so on. Then she copied his writing and signature on them all, wrote an occasional verse from a selected stock, directed the envelopes, and posted them. Since Terriss's day the hero young in years has become obsolete, or rather he becomes young only by becoming old ; shedding the outer skin of egotism and mannerism at thirty-five, he enters the finishing school at forty-five ; and at fifty-five begins to be qualified to act the hero. Terriss had the grit at twenty-five. Actors and actresses live long, yet they are con- stantly taxing their bodies, intelligence, will-power and memory. Strenuousness appears to be the guarantee of longevity. Hermann Vezin is a case in point, but this, his last letter, is a warning, and as such I include it: " Dear Luther Munday, — I had a bad accident on the 2nd inst., and don't know when I shall have recovered all my mental faculties. My recovery is very slow. I am having a week down here but the bleak winds are doing their best to keep me back. I return to town next Tuesday and hope I may be brain strong enough to take up my ordinary work. " What I understand you to suggest will I fear be beyond me for some time to come. The curse of superstition that taints and blights the stage has marked me. A thoughtless remark that I was a CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 181 Jonah, made by somebody, has spread Hke a cancer, and though utterly untrue, no manager has the courage to face it. " Yours, " Hermann Vezin." And so an actor second only to Phelps in his Hne died poor with all his qualities; a victim to the blasphemy of superstition. Genevieve Ward was a great actress and a true friend. She was also Countess de Guerbel de Nicolaciff, but the Count deserted her and tried to nullify the marriage upon technical grounds. The Czar upon hearing the truth summoned the Count to Warsaw and also the injured lady. The marriage was solemnised again before the Czar, then the Countess bowed to her husband and they parted never to meet again. Christine Neillson I met at Scott-Gatty's ; his brother-in-law, Major Ewing, of whom I wrote earlier, accompanied her. She blazed with jewels and beauty and seemed to me the feminine incarna- tion of art and nature. Toole, whom I knew for years, I met during the last year of his life at Brighton, and then walked with him and talked to him. He was then very decrepit but his mind remained clear. The genial Toole and the proud, shy Irving! To see the serious Irving was Toole's relaxation, to laugh at the humorous Toole was Irving's rest. The contrast, the friend- ship, like that of David and Jonathan of Damon and Pythias of Hamlet and Horatio, passing the love of women. So much has been written about Sir Henry Irving that I can hardly find anything unpublished to add. In the nature of things I met 182 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS him frequently on the Committee at the Lyric, and oftener still at the Garrick Club. He acted twenty- seven plays with his great partner, Ellen Terry, whom I met quite recently when I travelled with her and her husband to their place in Kent. She remains embodied sunshine now as many years ago; such a spirit as hers is not merely lent to the world for the span of one mortal life. In this chronicle of friendships I am proud of more years than I dare state of unchanging interchange. A perfect feast of mind is recalled by the Ranee of Sarawak and her three sons. Her Highness is a writer and a musician of great distinction, with a taste for many arts and crafts. She greatly loves dumb animals, and is a practical supporter of the Animals Hospital. She also founded and conducted for many years the Greyfriars Amateur Orchestra. To her talent as conductor and executant many charities are constantly indebted. I am proud, too, of having sung solos at many of her concerts. The eldest son, Vyner Brooke, the Raja Muda, is heir- apparent to the throne of the kingdom of Sarawak, whose Rajah, recognised at the Court of St James, is an independent ruler of a region of 52,000 square miles, with half a million population of head-hunters, Malays, Siamese, Hindus, and Chinese. Vyner and his charming bride, nee Sylvia Brett, will one day wield despotic power over the most romantic kingdom in the world. His brother, Harry Brooke, started the first threepenny paper, and gave me a commission to draw portraits, and also initiated the lectures and classes upon Shakespeare in English villages. The third brother, Bertram, married Walter Palmer's only daughter. CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 183 To revert to the censorship, there is something incomprehensible about the changes that occur in the mind of those responsible. " CEdipus," banned for years, now receives a licence ; " Salome " may be danced on the stage, but Oscar Wilde's play may not be performed. Marital infidelity may be treated as a farce, or as the theme of a comic opera, but the powerful moral of Ibsen's " Ghosts " must not be preached from the pulpit of the stage. The passion of the " Ring of the Niebelungs," and other operas may be set to music, but Maeterlinck's " Monna Vanna " is not for London audiences. The office has been responsible for some strange anomalies. Some years ago " The Mikado," after playing for many years, was banned temporarily for fear it would give offence to the Japanese. Neither Pigott, Bendall, Redford, or Brookfield are to blame, but the whole system is unworkable. Sheltered behind an ancient act — unassailable — modernity has tried and is trying autocracy with surprises yet in store. The Cabinet is allowed to rule, without appeal to the will of the people or the peers ; the exercise of unrepealed acts that have outlived their use continues; the fashionable game of palmistry, which would render its players liable to death or banishment under an act of 1530, is unrepealed as far as I can ascertain. My wife, who was taught it well by Mrs St Hill, took alarm when I told her this — and I hope it will end its obvious subtlety and transparent craftiness. Charity is really the greatest offender in encouraging such rot in order to get money. Of J. M. Barrie's exquisite sense of infinite oddity, tenderness and quaintness I can add nothing to what is almost universally admitted. He and Shaw seem 184 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS in their different ways to possess intellectual search- lights, capable of discerning the very bone of human nature. Strings of epigram, wit, and wisdom flow from their pens, whilst mine is but a mere recorder. The covers of my book, a friend tells me, are far too wide apart already, but before proceeding to our next chapter of friendship, jape and quip, let me record some letters : one from William Ewart Gladstone on the subject of the real presence, a valuable opinion which is produced in facsimile opposite ; another received from Field Marshall Norman offering, at the suggestion of his brother, to take me as his private secretary in the event of his accepting the post of Viceroy of India, which Mr Gladstone had offered him, but circumstances had forced him to decline ; also several interesting letters from Lord Roberts, with his permission to reproduce them. These are reserved for my second book of chronicles. ,.i.rt.„... ;■•'/ 1 . -aK.!.. \ Z3 w ^ BRIEF CHRONICLES OF Sth Duke of Beaufort, K.G. Edward Fairfield (Sketch), C.B. Will Terriss. Sir John Millais, Bart. Sir H. M. Stanley, G.C.B. Gladstone. Maurice Maeterlinck. CHAPTER XII Actresses and the Peerage — ^Woman's Genius not recognised in Honour's Lists — Love and Convention — Marriage — ^The Woman Movement. The wedding or welding of blood with talent has produced of old the fairy-child called " Charm," and the indefinable quality called genius. Much of the world has been built by the union of suffering and love, and much has been dragged down by the chil- dren of luxury and passion ; but charm and genius do not often reproduce themselves. Of the claim, made by a socialist, to descent from " the old kings of Ire- land," one of the Pursuivants of the College of Heralds said : " It is so far from being unusual to be descended from a king that it would be rather the exception to find anyone who was not." The average Englishman has strains of royal blood in his veins from three or four sources, while the pedigrees of large numbers of living commoners show the descent from royalty in clear detail. The children of younger branches of the royal house marry into the peerage, the children of such marriages enter county families, and so the royal descent is passed down from one class to another. Clubs indirectly have brought about many marriages of recent years. Burke has been largely replenished through club influence. New life has been breathed into the House of Lords 185 186 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS fresh blood injected into the veins of our old nobility, and a plentiful supply of healthy, handsome mothers been provided for our future aristocracy from modern clubs as from the stage. Though taken entirely from published sources, this is not a complete list of those actresses and singers who bear titles. In a previous chapter I have explained that more than six hundred debutantes, established actresses and singers, were the protegees of the Lyric and Green Park Clubs ; though many of them, guided by a sense of the fitness of things, or from a passionate love of their professions, declined proposals from socially brilliant suitors, there were many others who accepted marriage. "... You see sweet maid we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock; And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race; this is an art Which does mend nature ; change it rather : The art itself is nature." Shakespeare. Here, then, are some of the aforesaid " buds of nobler race " and the barks upon which they are grafted : — 3rd Duke of Bolton . . married Miss Lavinia Fenton 2nd Duke of Cambridge ,, Miss Farebrother 9th Duke of St Albans ,, Miss Harriet Mellon 4th Marquis of Ailesbury ,, Miss Dolly Tester 5th Earl of Clancarty . ,, Miss Belle Bilton 1st Earl of Craven . . ,, Miss Louisa Brunton I2th Earl of Derby . . ,, Miss Eliza Farren 5th Earl of Essex . . ,, Miss Kitty Stephens Son of the Earl of Favers- ham ,. Miss Leamar The Earl of Clonmel . „ Miss Stella Berridge CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 187 Lord Huntingdon . . married 4th Earl of Harrington ,, Earl of Orkney ... „ 3rd Earl of Peterborough ,, 3rd Baron Gardner . . „ 2nd Baron Thurlow . . ,, 4th Marquis of Headfort „ The Hon. F. A. Wellesley „ Mr Speaker Lowther's eldest son .... ,, The Hon. Francis Weet- man Pearson ... ,, 7th Earl Poulett ... Lord Sholto Douglas . ,, Lord Archibald Campbell ,, The Hon. Frederick Cur- zon Sir Hugo de Bathe . The Marquis de Caux and Baron Cederstrom . The Marquess Capranica del Guillo .... The grandson of the Earl of Cavan .... The grandson of the 6th Duke of Richmond 25th Baron de Clifford 3rd Baron Haldon . Viscount Torrington Sir Henry Meux The brother and heir to the Duke of Newcastle The Count de Miranda . Lord Churston . Count de Guerbel The Hon. Horsley-Beres- ford .... Count Gigliacci . Miss Delia Sinclair Miss Maria Foote Miss Con. Gilchrist Miss Anatasia Robin- son Miss Julia Fortescue Miss Mary Bolton Miss Rosie Boote Miss Kate Vaughan Miss Pelly Miss Ethel Lewis Miss Sylvia Storey Miss Loretta Mooney Miss Callender Miss Ellis Jeffreys Mrs Langtry Madame Adelina Patti Madame Adelaide Ris- tori Miss Enid S. Brunton Miss Marie Tempest Miss Eva Carrington Madame Niska Miss Eleanor Souray Miss Valerie Reece Miss May Yohe Madame Christine Neillson Miss Denis Orme Miss Genevieve Ward Miss Kitty Gordon Miss Clara Novello 188 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS The Hon. Maurice Brett married Miss Zena Dare The heir to Lord Aber- dare ... . . ,, Miss Camille Qifford Of males noble in line, three peers, three baronets, and twenty-five knights are, or have been, professional entertainers. But Germany takes the lead. There are some fifty German noblemen now appearing as actors, and six members of reigning families have chosen their wives from behind the footlights. Any social disadvantage the stage once suffered is disappearing rapidly all the world over. Social equality is making itself felt as rapidly. There are four duchesses and six countesses included in the list of America's beautiful and wealthy daughters, and a great many more American ladies now bearing English titles. Comment or criticism brings it to this, that honours and titles given for art or science in which both sexes excel fall exclusively to man. The most distinguished woman, be she paintress, poetess, sculptress, writer, organiser, composer, songstress, or actress, can get no recognition in title or degree from her country. As in France, where the Institute comprising the five learned bodies, of which the Academic Fran^aise is the most famous, rejects women, so in England the principle of admitting women is rejected. A Madame Curie or a Miss Ethel Smythe may not bear the title which is due to her genius, though, if she were a man with talent, a knighthood or some distinctive degree would have been within easy reach. Woman can win the reflected advantage of a title if she marries, as witness the fifty entertainers catalogued above ; but some such ladies, CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 189 who took to the altar the sceptre of genius, lost with their names the identity which should have been lastingly preserved to them in the archives of a high order of national importance. It is not fair that a pretty face or a great mind should be treated equally and depend equally for distinction or extinction upon reflected glory, or a man's infatuation. The nation surely owes something more to the woman of genius. A few years ago a letter of mine on this subject received the distinction of prompt recognition. A high order was established, and is rightly guarded ; it opened its doors to women, and two or three were invested with this real dignity, which qualifies them, whether married or unmarried, to hold their own. The need of a second degree of the order of merit may become felt in time. And then the woman who happens to be plain physically with a garden of a mind will be recognised as an asset which England will delight to honour with some worthy diploma. Then will women be independent of the capricious vicissitudes of love, and equipped to win that marriage of the mind which alone survives illusion. Alwavs the kind of freedom woman seeks is the worst slavery. " How given for nought her priceless gift, How spoil'd the bread and spilt the wine, Which spent with due respective thrift, Had made brutes men, and men divine." Yet being loved is the feminine conception of Para- dise ; and loving is the masculine attribute. A cynical friend, who placed man's judgment of woman at a low standard, said that it did not much matter who a man married because the next morning he was sure 190 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS to find he had married somebody else. Possibly the Teuton is, in matters of love, inartistic as com- pared to the Latin race, or at least in the art of stimulating passion without quenching it. Love, they say, must be free as air; freedom dominates, ties domineer, and that which domineers or holds in chains soon perishes from a conventional sense of duty, duty and habit being magic words which sustain patriots, inflame warriors, inspire politicians, but sometimes cool married people. By a merciful Providence the worst temperament has not always the worst influence, nor unfortunately does the sense of duty exercise always the best influence. One may cite Nell Gwynn and the Duchesse de Mazarin among those who exercised great tempera- mental influence in England, and for a time were regarded as the chief friends and champions of the people, even as certain notorious women of the present day who radiate influence, if rather noisily, in the interests of democracy. " Men," said Rousseau, " will always be what women choose to make them." Love belongs to and is part of life, and woman is the counterpart of life and love. Her whisper may often be louder than the call of duty, and yet she may bring some echo of love's joy right through men's lives to the end. Men are ever burning fires of propitiation before some altar, and cultivating affec- tion may be in plots, to make existence a garden of many interests, whose plants are watered with illusion. Woman seems happiest with her happiness concealed. When she no longer needs to conceal it, she generally ceases to be happy. Mystery plays a large part in her nature ; her thoughts are often written upon litmus paper, only readable after ex- CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 191 posure to certain influences. When these thoughts become known their zest has departed, and the young illusion makes way for the grey regret. One must love with the head if one would make a warm rest for the heart. Neither is marriage necessarily phihs- tine or utilitarian in its narrowness. The great Pre- Raphaelite wrote these words and suffered for them : "No man and no woman should be inexorably tied together for more than ten years' trial." On the other hand, the aim of the classic school in France was to insist upon the letter, as dis- tinguished from the aim of the Romantics, who insisted upon the spirit, in order to keep the senti- mental and the voluptuous as far apart as the poles, and to regard the abuse of intimacy as an act of profanation. But soon the sentiment evolved the passion. The Romantics intended woman to be an exalted incarnation of the Divine, her affection to be the supreme source of inspiration, but their theories soon wavered between wantonness and idealism. Western regularity grew from Eastern irregularity, both being mere habits influenced by geographical conditions, as witness the wise Biblical Kings of whom it is written: — " King David and King Solomon led such very naughty lives, They spent much time in toying with their morganatic wives ; But as old age came creeping on, they sufFered serious qualms, So Solomon wrote the Proverbs and David wrote the Psalms." What thousands of years passed by before woman 192 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS became surrounded with the romantic and poetic respect called chivalry, making for moral and mental development, and often saving her from shipwreck. Western regularity is not entirely Western and Eastern irregularity is not entirely Eastern; and religious chivalry, dating from the Crusades, has not yet influenced a very large part of the world which lays claims in other respects to being civilised. It is not always as wise as it is easy to be critical, or to lay bare the failings which occasionally mar our most treasured systems. Unfortunately, however, we are too often forced to extend much toleration if we would hold together or rather protect some most treasured ideals, one such being marriage. We English have just a little hypocrisy in our composi- tion, or is it that we make the best of things and do not talk about them, finding compensation our own way? A friend of mine in Ceylon married a daughter of the people (they are both long since dead). She was beautiful when young, but use brought home to her husband the full horror of her vulgarity ; she was one of the brainless but virtuous fools, and became as vituperative as a fish-hag. When things were at their worst between them I was generally asked to dinner, and was compelled to talk to both of them, for then they never spoke to each other. In my efforts for peace, I talked to my friend one day of the inequalities of the law, obser- ving that property was protected so much better than the individual. " For instance," I said, " if I stole a rabbit I should probably get fourteen days, whereas if I stole your wife I should get no punishment." " Yes," he rephed ; " you would get my wife." Practical experience survives most of love's iUu- CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 193 sions. The man whom a woman adores as a saint, she often treats as a tramp, while she mothers the feeble man as she would a starving cat; for weak men give her the impression that she herself is strong. Of her devotion, of her faithfulness, there is, how- ever, no end. Perhaps love's most lasting expression is in friendship. It is easy to find a lover and retain a friend; not so easy to find a friend and retain a lover. Women know this better than men ; they esteem a man's friendship much more than a man esteems theirs. She regards his as the highest mark of his old affection; he regards hers as a legacy of her indifference. To conclude this chapter. The effect of the woman's movement upon romantic love will be to set back to the classic period of Greece and Rome, when romance and chivalry in love were unknown, however conjugal devotion succeeded. Marriage was then for the building-up of the family, a process of austere dignity quite against passionate emotion. The French and the Japanese treat marriage to-day as a thing apart from romantic love ; but neither woman the sweetheart, nor woman the mother, was more than tolerated by the Church which worshipped woman symbolised by the Holy Virgin in mystic and exalted religion rather than in any actual, earthly relationship. In result, religion unexpectedly re- inforced earthly love, and beautified it with chivalrous feeling, which culminated in the custom of the knights and the married lady doing reverential service in vows of pure devotion till death, there being no romantic love between husband and wife, nor did the husband resent this either in Northern Italy or N 194 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS Germany in the twelfth century, or more recently in Spain. The quasi-religious warrant in the worship of the Holy Mother was thus revived, and its motive was to raise woman from being subordinate to her husband, and to give equal freedom and indepen- dence to man and woman ; but it was with thoughts compatible with married life — as it existed. Then came the ideal woman, a cross between " an angel and an idiot," and then the woman who copied the man, and various other changes evolving through the ages ; but so long as there is a difference it will be impossible to place one sex in the same position as the other, as it would result in a deformity of outline, and hamper life's activities. As of old and in mediaeval times, so to-day man lays his homage at one woman's feet and lords it over his domestic drudge at home. This will all end if woman becomes man's equal. Reverence on equal terms is impossible. We mortals think we change, but it is not ourselves that change any more than it is the weathercock. It is the wind blowing where it listeth that changes, and this is all we can say of love ; it bloweth where it listeth, it is not fixed by skill or vanity or intel- lectuality, and certainly not by political forces — it just comes and goes. To laugh at it would be but to resemble the child who sings in the dark to ward off fear. The unblemished gem of a good woman's love makes remembrance sweet with tears. Devotion has no purer shrine, sacrifice no happier abnegation, and when at last comes the parting, it comes at the perfection, and teaches us how to feel that greater love which opens the door of higher thought to close it for ever upon material form. CHAPTER XIII Sporting Friends — King of Siam as Leading Lady — Guthrie's " Hamlet " Story— Stray Stories—" The Junior Turf Club "— Shaw's Velvet Suit — Fashions in Dancing — Acclamation in Church — The National Anthem — Barnum and the Duke of Edinburgh — Sir Morell Mackenzie's Poem There is little cohesive spirit in politics, less in art, and none in literature, but in sport of every kind the social atom revolves in his own orbit. This applies even to the speculative spirit of the money market, whose leaders are rapidly becoming supreme. Amongst sporting acquaintances I count Lord Charles Ker, who founded Sandown and the Whippet Club; Lord Queensbury, who framed the Queens- bury rules ; Sir Claude Champion de Crespigny, who was our first visitor in a balloon, which descended almost in my garden ; Selous, who told me of a near squeak he had with a wounded lion — he stood per- fectly still and shouted for the dogs to be let loose, when the lion turned tail; and Lord Roberts our greatest soldier. Long may he Hve. To the Basil Thomson's North Lodge, Ascot, I went to private theatricals. Struck with the beauty of the leading lady, I asked Dean Liddell to introduce me ; with great scorn the very reverend replied, " It is not a girl at all, it is the future King of Siam." He is now King : an autocrat, omniscient and omni- 196 196 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS potent, in his own country, and possessing an amazing array of titles. In Siam kings always marry their half-sisters. I told the story to Prince Alexander of Teck, who represented King George at the King of Siam's wedding about the time I am writing (191 1). In my young days colonials were called " currency " and native-born were called " sterling." I think colonial office clerks were exempt from this odious distinction. I allude to it as a custom long dead. I remember dining with Mr Bayard, the American Ambassador, and Mrs Bayard. He accepted my little sketch of him. Time has proved his political wisdom in more ways than one, though his courtesy at the time was mistaken for weakness by his country- men. He was extraordinarily handsome, and so was Mrs Bayard. There was a mildness and decision in his conversation and address which are seldom met with in the same person. I also met Mr W. G. Smalley, who held a fine position in the newspaper world of London, and is now, I believe, in New York. The intellectual often despise genius ; these two intellectuals did not — they spoke of greater men with delightful enthusiasm. I dined as the guest of Macfarlane at Trinity College dinner, sat next to Sir Robert Ball, who said there had recently been discovered a planet so distant from the earth that had a telegram been dispatched to it at the time of the birth of our Lord, the news would not have reached there yet. On my other side sat a literary exquisite, who prided himself on the classical correctness of his conversation and the courtly perfection of his manner and grace of poise. But I wished he had resided on that distant planet as the sparkle of Irish conversation was so preferable. CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 197 It was a delightful evening spoiled by one jarring note, the elderly called me Munday, and the youthful called me " Sir." Alas! the shadow of life's post meridian had commenced. This is always the first sign! I was at the Green Room Club when Tree was the Club guest. I quote Terriss's speech in full : " Gentle- men: our guest ... a d d good sort." Here I met Guthrie, the author of " Vice Versa," who told us that at a first performance of " Hamlet," an old lady sitting next to him asked at the end of the first act whether the gentleman in black would appear again. He said " Yes," and she left the house] The following incident occurred long before " Cyrano de Bergerac " was written. A friend of mine, a sportsman, not a poet, a man but not a courtier, wanted to wed a certain lady who was of romantic and aesthetic temperament. When I found out how things were I offered to try and write his love- letters for him, and, by picking out little bits from books, wrote warmly sentimental sentences, and then half-scratched some of them out, feeling that this might arouse the lady's interest, and quicken her curiosity. They were married and lived very happily after their nuptials. Years later she read me his letter just received; it consisted of four lines about pheasants and hares. " Ah ! " she said, " how different were Charlie's letters before our marriage ! " I paid a visit to the Dean and Mrs Liddell, both since passed away. In charm of manner and social converse he was very distinguished, and he set a memorable mark upon his time. He was joint author of the Greek lexicon, as everyone knows. 198 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS " A lexicon written by Liddell and Scott; A part of it's good, and a part of it's not. The part that is good was written by Scott, By Liddell was written the part that is not." Yet again: — " She is the Broad and I am the High And we are the University " — His cousin Lady Eleanor Liddell's small luncheon parties brought together congenial souls, and that is one of life's high arts which this charming hostess understood. We gave little dinners ourselves, but so rarely, and so obviously as an endeavour to pay back some social debts, that Alec Yorke called them, " Our Annual Meeting of Creditors." The Lumley of his day, he of pleasant manners and universal information, Kenneth Howard, who had never left London for thirty years, used to entertain me at the Bachelors. At the Bachelors are seen the remnant of the beaux and dandies whose days are over. A century ago the bow-window at White's was occupied by a set of whom Beau Brummell was the chief, and they invented customs which in limp fashion still exist. A member has asked me to vacate what he called his seat at a club window; but I promptly declined to encourage such rot. Another member was reminded that it was not customary to recognise from a club window any passer-by, to which he aptly replied that a Queen of England had forced Count D'Orsay, who made the rule, lo break the rule, by giving him the honour of recognition at his club window from Her Majesty's carriage whilst passing down St James' Street. CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 199 I cannot call to mind an Englishman who is the least like the Georgian dandy. Sir Fitzroy Clayton, Sir Henry Brownrigg, and Col. Streatfield are the last I have met representing the best type of the dandy, gentle and manly, of whom Thackeray writes. I found it in Lady Dorothy Nevill's book, but Kenneth Howard told me of the lady who asked a Court official how much of herself she ought to show at a Court ball, and was informed that it depended upon the quality of what she had to show. Henry Lord Ailesbury told me he once ordered a cabman to drive him to the Courts of Justice ; the cabman hesitated and then said, " Oh, the Law Courts, I know them, but you said the Courts of Justice." Like all stories, this and the following could only have been original once. What a dreadful world if jokes were only told once. A misanthrope, whom I need not name, told his wife he had made his will, and had left everything to her on condition that she married again, " At any rate," he said, " one man shall be sorry I am dead." Bram Stoker told me this: a noble at the Court of Louis XIV. was ex- tremely like the King, who sent for the noble and asked him, " Was your mother ever at Court ? " Bowing low, he replied, " No, sire, but my father was." To Sir John Kirk (of African fame) I am indebted for the gift of an original letter which he received from David Livingstone in 1865. Part of it runs thus : " Put a pony on Cambridge." I quote this because it makes the memory of Livingstone still more lovable. " Why so late at the Club .'' " I once asked a friend. " Economy, my boy ; I catch the workman's train 200 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS home." Once he took the wrong side of his road and began to knock at the house opposite his own. A lady opening a window upstairs told him he was knocking at the wrong door. " Not at all," he replied ; " you are looking out of the wrong window." Cyril Maude said that in his early days, when travelling with a stock company, he said to the manager, " I have not had my part yet," who replied, " Write it yourself, my boy, or perhaps you know one like it." The manager subsequently became a prompter, then finished up as a mute. Opening the gates of the cemetery he wheezed out, " Beginners, please, for the last act." Stories about people so largely depend upon personality, and personality is impossible to express in writing. Wilder, Upton, Fred Chester, Toole, Brough, Grossmith, all of these have had brought up against them specimens of the weakest nonsense, which had lost both strength and point by repetition and feeble telling; becoming after many days quite unrecognisably anaemic. If an actor loses his own identity, much of the measure of his charm is gone, and so with others who are part of a story ; they require their identity in the telling. Wilson Barrett wheeled a barrow at a shilling a day, saved up his money and bought " Shakespeare." This I told to Arthur Cecil, whose comment was : " Splendid fellow ; but what a pity he bought ' Shakespeare.' " George Giddens, the finest Squire Chivey and Tony Lumpkin, now Lai Brough has gone, tells of some actor of the Criterion who being told he looked as old as Queen Anne, replied, " That's an exaggeration, but I own to Wyndham and Mary." CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 201 I remember meeting at Lady Londesborough's the brilliant Miss Margot Tennant, but the hostess I remember best; whether her guests were famous or obscure, whether they belonged to the great world or had emerged from the masses, none could be long in her company without feeling her charm of manner and kindness of heart. Sydney Holland tells the story of a doctor at the London Hospital who put up this notice : " Doctor XXX's lecture will be postponed in consequence of a command he has received to attend at Sandringham," and underneath some wag had added, " God save the King." I asked T. P. O'Connor if there were as many absent Irish landlords as ever. " Yes, Luther, they swarm," he said. Poor dear T. P., how hard he tries to detect a flaw in this most perfect of worlds. With a heart full of peace and content which he tries to overcome, he cannot successfully disguise his joyous temperament. He bore bravely the sight in a weekly paper of a portrait in chalk I drew of him. In T. P's wonderful versatility of mind I see a dozen different people, not one of them acquainted with each other. Some readers will remember poor little Genii Norreys and her sad retirement, who, like the great Robson, had the soul of a tragedian con- tained in a frail little body. I pay this passing tribute to her greatness as an actress and her charm as a woman. I went with her to a Christmas Tree Party for poor children in Drury Lane Theatre. She asked a child about six years old what she would like best. " A box of make-up, please. Miss," she rephed ; which reminds me that behind the scenes at the Alhambra I once saw the tiniest little cycle-performing mite kneel 202 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS down, pray, and cross herself before commencing her dangerous " turn." How nice it would be to beguile time by writing children's plays for bald-headed men who believe in fairies, and problem plays to lighten the lives of weary children ; yet when one reflects how many plays are unread, how many actors are unemployed, how sad is the sigh for suffering worth, lost in obscurity, " gorse unprofitably gay." Tree and Haddon Chambers were my guests at the cabman's shelter in Piccadilly, known then as the Junior Turf Club, on the opening night of Her Majesty's Theatre. This was, for Tree, the day of his life. He reached a height of stage tradition from which he has never fallen, in its very best expression of difficulties overcome. We arrived at the shelter at three o'clock in the morning, and drank coffee and played dominoes with the men until six, when one of our cabbies got a call, which broke up a delightful party. These were happy days, in which I somehow failed to bore Tree ; no fag, all enjoyment, at least for me. One night I met Mascagni. The Guards' Band was playing; Mascagni took up the baton and con- ducted his famous overture, from which he sent me an extract in manuscript. After this Arthur Roberts conducted the orchestra with an effect it is impossible to describe ; it was immense. On the first night of some play I refused an orchestra stall to George Bernard Shaw, because he came in a red tie and a velvet suit, and I did not then know the real Shaw any more than he knew himself. Also dear Clement Scott and I had a row because I could not give him a box to himself, but before he died he sent me a ^ il CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 203 written essay of his upon criticism and lived in that rarefied atmosphere, the height of forgiveness. I am^ sure G. B. S. will have forgiven me too, if he remembers the episode. One more actress whom the immortals will claim, but I want to record her first, is Ethel Irving ; with her long course of unbroken successes, she has been a delight, and shown a versatility that is phenomenal. There are actresses as great in tragedy, comedy, or burlesque, but perhaps not one who can play all alike with such consummate ease. Her greatness, too, expresses itself in joy at others' greatness. A rare gift indeed, but rare too are Mrs Gilbert Porteous. In a general way, the stage makes women affect petulant brusquerie, and a man's familiarity of ad- dress ; and it often causes them to assume disdainful airs, which may merely be the outcome of real ignorance of the; world. Palpitating Hfe, youth, and health may mean making a brave show merely to conceal evidence of ceaseless struggles. On the other hand, it was always easy to fill a theatre to see a wanton sprung from the nobility. In the eighteenth century there were scores of these, and their rank was known to the police ; dishonour was the passport to celebrity. Emma Hamilton and " Perdita " Robinson (types of many) owed their celebrity to the weakness of a hero and a prince. Perhaps it is specially true that more women are led from the path of virtue by display and luxury than are corrupted by all the rakes in town, tempta- tion being in both cases merely a process by which the senses deceive the intellect; the display of hats is as deceiving to a woman's intellect as the display 204 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS of feminine form in dancing is to a man's — both vices have their fashions. I know nothing of hats, but I remember the changing modes in dancing that have taken the town since I was a boy. About the year 1875 the tall Gaiety Girl in tights was the vogue, then Kate Vaughan created her own environment and made London become suddenly classical in its appreciation of cobwebs, and veils of dainty reticences. Then followed Lottie Collins with her blast and blare of Ta-ra-ra fame, with her high heels, black stockings, and stormy lingerie. After that came a sensuous wave of Spanish dancing ; its savagery, insolence, and haughty beauty all too easily making slaves of men. Adeline Genee next gave us a joy which was un- tainted by passion, and Adeline's style charmed us for years. Following her Maud Allan, and her patrician imitators, introduced a style which James Douglas aptly calls one of " faintly disguised mor- bidity and subtle perversity." The sequel to this was the form of dancing which revealed the hooligan frenzies of the Danse des Apaches, while in 19 10 the Russian dancers restored our taste for that which is natural, clean, and pure. If sheer acclamation is the test of appreciation, Lottie CoUins commanded most. Until recent years I only knew of acclamation in its theatrical sense and use, and was surprised to learn, what probably all the world knows, viz. that applause was an old custom in church. About a hundred years ago O.P. had another meaning than " off prompt " ; it meant " old prices," and the actors in all the theatres were shouted down for twenty months. This form of acclamation caused the O.P. riots. Mrs Siddons expected acclamation from the audience to the extent of following her CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 206 hysterical follies ; whenever she shrieked or swooned the audience was expected to follow her example. In a chapel in London I have heard acclamation, or the clapping of hands, used as a means of expressing approval ; and I am told that in America the negro congregations acclaim during the sermons, passing into wails and wild maniacal laughing and yodelling. I set to search the history of acclamation, and asked the Dean of Westminster to help me. I received the following interesting reply, showing that people were accustomed to express their feehngs aloud in church so far back as in the time of William the Conqueror : — " Dear Mr Munday, — The following is a part of the Coronation Service, as used on the last occa- sion: Sec. III. is the ' Recognition.' The King and Queen being in the Central ' Theatre,' the Archbishop of Canterbury, with other high officials, goes to each of the sides of the Theatre, the King turning himself by his chair accordingly, while the Archbishop speaks thus to the people; Sirs : I here present unto you King Edward, the undoubted King of this realm ; wherefore all you who are come this day to do your homage, are you willing to do the same? The people signify their willingness and joy by loud and repeated acclama- tions, all with one voice crying out: God save King Edward. Then the trumpets sound. This ceremony of the Recognition goes back to the earliest times, and in those ages must have had a very real significance and importance, as the Royal claim rested on accep- tance by the people. We know that it formed an 206 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS element at the Coronation of William the Conqueror in the Abbey, for, as you will remember, the Norman soldiers outside, hearing the shouting and not know- ing what it was, but fearing the King was in danger, began a massacre. The same ceremony took place in the Primitive Church at the consecration of Bishops, the assent and consent of the people always being asked for, and given by acclamation. There is another custom at Westminster for the boys of Westminster School to shout ' Viveat Rex ' (or Regina) at a certain point of the Coronation. I fancy not as part of the Recognition, but at the entry of the King into the choir. This custom or privilege must go back to the beginnings of the school. In the early church applause or the reverse was very common during preaching, as we judge from the sermon of Saint Chrysostom, the people were accustomed so to express their feelings. (Signed) " R. B. Rackham. " Deanery, Westminster, " i^th December, 1908." When George IV. was King it was not uncommon for actors to forfeit two shillings and sixpence if they failed to acclaim and join, too, in the chorus of the National Anthem. My old and valued friend, General Sir Bindon Blood wrote me, in part, this about the National Anthem : " Dear Luther, ' Grand Dieu ! Sauvez le Roi ! ' was sung for a hundred years at St Cyr as a National Anthem. It was composed by Lulli, Master of the King's Music in 1721 (Louis XV. was then King). Handel visited St Cyr and was impressed with the tune, and annexed it as his own. He got the words translated, and there you have the L. M., BV HERM.WX HERKOMER. L. M., BY MAX BEERBOHM. CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 207 story of ' God save the King,' a part still of our na- tional life and pride, whose symbol is the flag. The same tune was adopted by the Danes in 1 790, and by the Germans in 1793, and it is also now used as the National Hymn in the United States, where it goes by the name of, ' My Country, 'tis of Thee.' " When the Trees lived in Sloane Street, they often invited me to their delightful supper-parties. One night we had a competition in the five-lines style of Edward Lear. The results were very droll, for we all had to make a verse ; most of these tags were too personal to print in these pages. We waited with excitement for Sir William Gilbert's contribution, which he produced as follows: — " There was a young man of Tralee, Who was horribly stung by a — wasp. When they said, ' Does it buzz,' he replied, 'Yes it hurts,' It's a horrible brute of a hornet." This is reminiscent of a party at the Knole in the seventeenth century, when all the guests agreed to write an impromptu. Dryden was chosen to decide which was the best, and he gave the prize to Lord Dorset, who had written these two lines : " I promise to pay Mr John Dryden or order ^500 on demand. — Dorset." We varied our games with sketching. Herbert Tree was no mean hand at caricature. One night we drew a celebrated lawyer from memory, Phil Burne-Jones, myself. Lord Rowton, and " Max," a great master of caricature. What a book of reminiscences Lord Rowton (the Monty Corry of other days) might have written. What secrets died with him of the mournful heart and wistful manner, of the haggard face and grizzly 208 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS beard. He, on whose arm Lord Beaconsfield used to lean, who alone had read the mysterious Disraeli memoirs, and who was the executor and friend of Queen Victoria. We walked from Sloane Street and parted on Hay Hill at 4.30 a.m. I never saw him after that. His sight failed, and letters I have from him are typewritten, and only bear his signature. On 5th May, 1892, I dined with the Duke of Edinburgh. Captain Bainbridge (his equerry). Sir Arthur Sullivan, and Wentworth Cole were the others present. After dinner I presented Barnum, the most famous impresario of his day, perhaps of the century, to the Duke, who playfully asked Barnum how much he would offer him to go to America. Barnum paused and solemnly repHed, " I would give you a very big fee, your Royal Highness, but I would give your mother double." The Duke promised Sir Arthur he would play a violin solo at my Annual Amateur Concert at the Lyric Club. It was to be one of H.R.H.'s own composition called, I think, "Atalanta," which he once played at the Albert Hall, but it did not come off. The Duke wrote in my book instead. For many years Mrs Ronalds gave me an open welcome, and showed kindly sympathy in all my ventures. The Duke of Edinburgh was often at her Sunday after- noons ; he had an air of listlessness, and was wont to criticise when he was bored, even during a song, and to proclaim, not always in a whisper, that he preferred this or that singer. His Royal Highness's opinion upon music was, however, held in high esteem. His was the impulsive temperament which quickly sees the whole truth, and, feehng it crowding for utter- CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 209 ance, hates argument. In other words H.R.H. was a sailor. Sir George Power and I gave a " send-off " to the beautiful and accomplished Sybil Saunderson pre- vious to her making her first appearance at Covent Garden. I went round to her dressing-room to say nice things about her singing. " Come in," I heard, so I opened the door. The lady was wrapped in thought, but had not proceeded much further with her toilet. I beat a retreat, which deserved it, and she subsequently informed me that it was her parrot that dispensed hospitality by calling out : " Come in." I bet her five pounds that she would be mar- ried by a certain dale. I won. She had a marvellous range of voice and was a great beauty. Poor Sybil ! she passed away comparatively young, much beloved and respected. " Is there a baser crime in hell Than first to kiss and then to tell ? Yes — there's a greater one, more fell 'Tis not to kiss and yet to tell." In those days I saw much of Charlie Jerningham and his intimate, Labouchere, who resembled one another in that they were men of the world in the best sense, arch enemies of all shams, including them- selves — for never posed two warmer hearts in cynic's clothing than Charlie and Labby, and you may add one more CharHe, recently prominent, to the hst — all loved by those who knew them and cordially dis- liked by those whom they didn't want to know, There are swarms of imitators about — who lack the warm heart — for it is a fashionable part to play, but wants more than a poseur to carry it through in its noble ideality. Q 210 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS Labby and Dilke were both " excluded " from the Ministry. Both would have been useful in staying the flood of Socialism, which Gladstone, a widely different man, alone succeeded in doing. I told Henry Labouchere if I were King I would make him Lord Taunton for the good of the Conservative cause. I don't think Truth kept him out of the Cabinet. There were interesting men about in those days, but Labby, Jerningham, Yates, A. Haggard, and a few others were difficult to beat in their particular line. They were free lances with scholarly learning behind them, with which they used to squash those lesser equipped, for in those days it was difficult to lead a great party or a conversation without bringing in quotations from " The Classics." There have been, and are, great leaders of later days in all parties lacking university education to back them, and that may be the cause or the effect of the utter disappear- ance of learned oratory in the House of Commons, where they would yell and jeer to-day at any quota- tions of any sort. The familiar conversation I had with Labby was when we compared notes about our travelling circus experiences in France and Mexico. We met and talked over a very plain meal, for no man cared less for eating and drinking and more for cigarettes and cynicism than Labouchere. He earned his salt by taking charge of the box office. I only lounged about learning the language, but we both agreed it was educational and provided an excellent answer to the dead season, large-type inquiry, " What to do with our sons ? " Ranch life in Mexico and political life in Old Palace Yard found him and left him one of the best. CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 211 I suggested to Andrew Haggard that he should write a play about Bayard, thinking that so great a writer on French romance would revel in the task. Within ten days he sent the synopsis and with it these lines: — " Dear Luther, — " Tough will be the task, rough will be the way, None has he to ask, how to write this play. Not a ' star ' to guide, no compass like ' Beaucaire ' O'er the waves to ride, breakers every where! But the lamp and ring of Lutherius Munday Rightly rubbed may bring him to port safe some day. Urging good ash paddle men call self reliance, Scouring brains that addle ; bidding doubt defiance, Dipping strong but lightly, honest in endeavour. Sprays may sparkle brightly, e'en in stormy weather. Thus not sad but gaily, o'er the darksome wave, Striving hard and daily, shall career thy slave. If by storm-cloud driven, he should win the goal. Knowledge he hath striven must content his soul; For one miss there's mending! He shall struggle well. Steadfast till his ending, noble Bayard fell 1 " " Yours ever, " Andrew Haggard." Andrew wrote novels before his brother Rider, whom he advised to write. He also saw much service in Egypt. Lord Kitchener, Sirdar Win- gate, and Andrew Haggard were all members of Sir Evelyn Wood's staff. Lord Kitchener was with the only cavalry regiment and Andrew commanded the First Battalion of the Egyptian Army. His novels, " Crescent Star," " Dodo and I," and " Love Rules the Camp " all have Egyptian backgrounds. 212 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS THE LAUGH (Dedicated to Luther) " The honest laugh, full visaged, ripe and long. Untrammelled flight of heart and mind at ease, Fearless and lithe-limbed wrestler with disease; The bitter laugh, shrill echo of a wrong. That hides awhile its scourge of knotted thong; The brave man's laugh, a challenge unto fate. Resourceful, mettlesome, self-callous, great of heart; Unlike the false laugh, anxious, loud, a song Untuned, a tiger's purr, a bloody snare; The lover's laugh, a lute of sweet accords, One soul unto another's gaze laid bare; The child's first laugh, the twitter of wakening birds, A rainbow bubble, floating in sunny air, A miracle beyond the power of words. " A. E. Jessup, "May 24th, 1909." I have alluded to A. E. Jessup in these pages. He is a veritable admirable Crichton, a ripe scholar, learned in mathematics and astronomy, and can come off his perch and frivol, too, with the lightest touch. He asked me seriously to solve this problem : given the number of a policeman and the length of his beat, to find his area. He is the only man I ever met who refused a fine bona fide offer for his first play. He says he writes for recreation, and that when he satisfies himself, and not till then, shall his work be staged. One, of whose atrophied mind all that remained was vanity, said to May Yohe : " There was one song in Edward Solomon's opera which quite carried me away." " I wish I could sing it," she said. Teddy Solomon, who was one of the party, is still remembered as a genius, who could and did CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 213 literally composed operas while you waited. Half a dozen of his later works were successfully produced. Teddy Solomon at that time threatened to rival SulHvan as a composer, but he thought too much of other things. He was five times married ; not like his namesake, but properly married. One of his wives was the beautiful Lilian Russell, who later married another pal of mine. Once Teddy im- provised a whole opera and he got jC200 on the spot, but he never wrote it down, so when Henry Sutton wished to hear it, Teddy had forgotten it entirely, and his new improvisation before a board of directors in the early morn was quite another affair, and so, as General Hale Wortham and Henry Sutton told me, the Alhambra lost the ;^200. Ah, well! let these memories run on. I know the laughing hours, the quips and jokes are difficult to reproduce without the sound of voices that have long been still. Nothing but the echo remains of incidents too shadowy to schedule, but too real to forget. Sir Morell Mackenzie of Emperor Frederick fame sent me this satire to adorn my book. He said it was his only poetic composition ! He was a down- right good friend to countless artists and to me. Of all the boys that are so smart, There's none like Luther Munday, The darling of each lyric heart On week days and on Sunday. So deft he plays the double part, Beau Nash and Mistress Grundy, The darling of each Lyric heart Is clever Luther Munday. 214 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS II " Old Luther loved ' Wine, woman, song,' Nor preached the worse on Sunday, To that persuasion doth belong Our jolly Luther Munday. And though he is not orthodox, He did not write ' Lex Mundi,' A very clever paradox Is happy Luther Munday. Ill " On ' Function ' days as grand he looks, As Wolseley at Ulundi. Flirts leave their mashers, ' Blues ' their books, To talk to Luther Munday; Of all the days within the week, They dearly love but one day, And that's the day that comes between A Sunday and a Tuesday. IV " His beaming visage cures the spleen, Cito, tuto, jucunde For ' heart b'owed down ' there ne'er was seen, A cure more sure than Munday. And could I write a book like ' She ' Or Irving's ' Salmagundi,' 'Twere easy to fill volumes three With praise of Luther Munday. " MoRELL Mackenzie, "31st March, 1892." PHIL MAY. CHAPTER XIV The Green Park Club — Performing Fleas — City Churches — Club Management — ^Five Hundred Concerts and Plays. The Green Park Club was an old-fashioned little thing, a poor copy, though in some respects re- sembling her ancestor, Lyrica Sodalitas. On 28th March, 1896, Punch gave her two mottoes: " Vir non semper viret," or " Virtus semper viridis," and both of these she fulfilled. Her first sponsor was Florence, Lady Westbury, her second was Lady Edward Spencer Churchill, and her third was Constance, Countess of Romney. Good fortune attended the twelve years of her existence in single blessedness, and she wedded or merged her name with another club in her thirteenth year. This was in 1907. Her excellent character she owed to the bringing up of her sponsors, and each in turn left her the dowry of a fine example. My little G.P.C. was brought up with the full knowledge that she would have to make profit enough to support me for the rest of my life. She relied upon her patrician relations and friends to give her at least some way- side help. Then, lo and behold! four royal fairy godmothers bestowed upon her their patronage and unchanging goodwill, and henceforth every effort was made on her part to show due appreciation. On the morning of her first birthday, G.P.C. received 21^ 216 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS the distinction of a large picture of Queen Victoria, signed and presented by Her Majesty. Other evidences treasured, but not for print, from those royal ladies, lasted from its start up to the days when it merged its existence with another club! If I could have foreseen all the genuine support so ungrudgingly accorded by the Presidents, com- mittee, and members, I think I should have paid greater attention to detailed suggestions emanating in a kindly spirit from certain quarters; but I had been slightly chilled through years of constant efforts which had left me none the richer. Socially, as the lists easily verify, the members were the most dis- tinguished ladies that ever met together as club members. Club-life was made agreeable by the pursuit of art for the love of it. We were amateurs in the strict sense ; but amateur is a very wide term. Many call themselves amateur who are not. Strictly speaking, an amateur is one who has never com- peted with a professional for a prize, and who has never taught, pursued, or assisted in the practice of any particular art as a means of obtaining a liveli- hood. At least that was how it was defined in my day. But now many style themselves amateurs who have taken pay in some form or another. Amateurs are frequently unconscionably tiresome too. Melba and Sims Reeves gave me far less trouble, and were far less fussy, than some amateurs. There have been great amateur artistes of all times: Nero, the imperial singer; Ptolemy IV., play- writer and flautist; and some living to-day can hold their own in any company. Art, like the fashionable game of skeleton puzzle, has meanings shapeless and numerous, difficult to CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 217 put together. Art may be a mouthpiece for Shake- speare or a Jew's harp. Some time ago performing fleas were called artistic. I went to a party where they were exhibited under magnifying glasses. The guests saw the little fleas fight duels, drive cabs and coaches, and do all sorts of things. A ponderous German was exhibiting these precious little insects, which he adored, when all of a sudden he espied " an exile from home " hopping about upon the capacious person of a magnificent dowager. The German snapped at the flea several times, finally captured it, and slowly examined it. He then returned it from whence he had caught it, walked backwards three paces, bowed very low, and said: " Pardon me, my lady, I thought it was one of mein artistes ! " The lady, true to her patrician dignity, restrained from old Chaucerian English, but ex- pressed her feelings with a smile surpassing speech in its eloquence. Art, then, may mean anything. The Green Park Club achievements ran high. Personally, I had never enjoyed any occupation so free from worry and difficulty as organising a Ladies' Club, and its mild revels acted as a tonic. That there are two kinds of ladies in the world, I admit: the one who loves to manage, and the other who loves to be managed, and all one has to do is to find out which is which. When in doubt, I assumed the attitude and expression which Gilbert describes as " idiotically sane with lucid intervals of lunacy," nodding approval to every suggestion, and though this may not have always been the wisest plan, it was certainly the easiest. The Club continued to prosper with capable secretaries, all of them friends and welcome visitors 218 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS to our cottage ; as also were Wilfred Bendall and Miss May Christie, two artistes who between them accom- panied at almost all my five hundred musical parties. I say my musical parties, for where the support of 1 200 soloists was inspired and retained by personal friendship, I may be forgiven for thus chronicling these friendships with genuine gratitude, not unmixed with pride and wholly free from conceit. At one time or another in life we learn to know the value of money by getting it, and of friendship by losing it, and as the young roses climb the old rock, which, in its turn, protects the roses, so the Club was carefully trained to climb and prosper and earn money under the shelter of experience — that wanderer which sucks the sap from many sources, till it " mourns for happiness by wearing fame." The goal of happiness, for which I craved, was rest and country life, and the day I reached my fortieth year I got it. I sought the desolate freedom of the " wild ass " in a village desert, where little artistic water was, but where something far better and more last- ing is. " Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplexed, O punishment? Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers, O sweet content? " Into these pages must appear the names of friends, like king's daughters, all glorious within, who helped me in club work and who still keep up the lustre of pleasant memories. But let me first say a final word about Ladies' Clubs generally. Almack's was founded in 1675. The subscription was ten guineas, which, I suppose, included a ball and supper given once a week for twelve weeks, and CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 219 the company refined, but the picture does not seem to make it so. Almack's Scotch face in a bag-wig, waiting at supper, would divert you; as would also Mrs Almack, in a sack, making tea, and curtsying to the duchesses. Gentlemen members were ad- mitted, but not gentlemen guests. " I can go to a young supper," writes Mrs Fitzroy, the foundress, " without forgetting how much sand is run out of the hour-glass, so I chose to be idle, but not morose." The ladies nominate and choose the gentlemen, and vice versa, so that no lady can exclude a lady, and no gentleman can exclude a gentleman. Lady's Rochford, Harrington and Holderness were black- balled, as was the Duchess of Bedford, who was subsequently admitted. Lord March was black- balled by the ladies, to their great astonishment. All this in a tavern, if you please, but afterwards, to satisfy the scruples of Lady Pembroke, in a separate room, and they called it Almack's Club. From what I can make of these meagre details, to build one's fortune upon the ruin of others was the recognised rule. This was about two hundred and thirty years ago. It is very different in our time, though the gambling craze once more revives (if it ever died) in the game of bridge, when women are growing increasingly extravagant in rivalry and dis- play, when the luck of a night is sometimes the ruin of a life. I have seen women speculators glory in the pernicious fury of their triumphs, seen them stake all, and give and take strangers' confidences, simply because they could not help themselves. Stimu- lated by increasing greed, indulgence, and ostenta- tion, their love of gambling takes them on its wave. It leaves them to stake even honour in the hope of a 220 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS gain which seldom comes, till at last, incited by an atmosphere which lessens their instinct of resistance, they call it bad luck if they are left in social exile. But this was not at our Club. The presence of royal members and the example of each and all our Presidents set a clear and decisive policy, which was to resist any form of gambling there. Let this not read as if we were smuggily superior, for we were not. It was only held, and rightly held, that what- ever one might be in private life, in a community which framed its rules for its own advantage, one was expected to let one's light so shine before men that they might see only our good works. We were hardly installed at lo Grafton Street before we were kindly given pews in Mr Ker Grey's chapel hard by. The service was curiously unorthodox; sermons were interlarded with songs and recitations. For instance, Florence St John sang, " O rest in the Lord," and sang it most beautifully, but when it came to placing pictures of dead actresses on the altar, our members took up a hostile attitude and wrote to the Bishop. They complained to me, as if it were my fault, so I wrote to my late friend, the Rev. Prebendary Villiers, of St Paul's, Knight- stone, about it, who repHed : " I should like very much to come and see you one day, after Easter, about it." He came and I saw Mr Ker Grey about it. The Revs. Shaw and Bennett were great at St Paul's then. It is all over and forgotten now, and only led to the investigation of what is called unortho- doxy, which I found meant " everybody's doxy except one's own." The Bishop of London, Dr Creichton (whose son CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 221 has so often charmed us with his singing at the Club), was far-sighted. He let many unorthodox men serve the Church faithfully on their own lines. To lengthen this digression, in 1878 I visited city churches, about forty of them, and took notes of the population in each parish, the seats in each church, the stipend, and the attendance, leaving out St Paul's Cathedral. The sleeping population in all the city is still only about thirty-four thousand, and there are seats in the city churches for twenty-three thousand. The average stipend was eight hundred pounds. One parish, in West Ham, equals nearly the whole of the city residents, but two hundred and forty pounds a year is the single stipend, whilst that for a similar number of city souls aggregates forty thousand pounds a year. I spent these Sundays in collecting facts and found congregations of less than a dozen in many churches. The obvious moral to the tale is that the sites of these empty city churches — being worth somewhere about five millions sterling — might be sold and the churches might be moved bodily to meet the needs of ever-growing parishes in greater London. To return to the Club. Just before it opened, some workman, on a Saturday, left a tap running at the very top of the house, and as there was no one sleeping on the premises, the Club was deluged with water, from four ceilings right down to the basement. The water had an uninterrupted run, as long as a play I once produced, but somehow it was the best thing for the Club. In face of this disaster, the members were sympathetic, and brought in a lot of new candidates, and Tree and Alexander came and helped at the opening ceremony, as they both did at the Club's closing ceremony. During those years 222 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS our members unconsciously contributed very largely to the humour of many situations. An undesirable candidate, escaping the vigilance of the electorate, got in. I tried with money to tempt her to resign her membership. She became furious, and went straight to one of our committee. " I have been grossly insulted. Mr Munday has offered me a sum of money to resign ; what shall I do ? " " Sit tight and you will get double," was the sporting advice. A candidate, whose husband was the head of a very remarkable organisation, was refused member- ship. She wrote thus : " If Mr Munday cannot give ... a satisfactory explanation why Mrs has not been elected to the Green Park Club, she will be forced to place the matter in the hands of her solici- tor." Another lady expressed indignant surprise when her account for two days and nights at the Club was presented. She said she thought that " ex- penses " were included in her subscription^ Janotha, who wrote this charming compliment (" Everybody seems to do as you ask; how could it be otherwise .'' ") was playing in her matchless way at one of our entertainments, when the Guards' Band passed by playing in fiill swing. She modulated into their key, played their music with them, then she returned to her own music without once stopping. Our method of election was by selection. This had its precedent. The first officials of the sublime Society of Beefsteaks, 1735, consisted of a President, Vice-President, Bishop, Recorder, and Boots. As at Boodles in 1774, the presiding power was the Proprietor, with an advisory committee chosen by himself. The same species of tribunal made the rules and governed White's Club in 1697. CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 223 There was no rejecting candidates by the black- ball — undesirables were indefinitely put back, which means that their elections were indefinitely post- poned. It is time that the barbarous mortification caused by the blackball should cease. All above mediocrity have petty enemies, who can indulge in irresponsible spite, and do, by means of the blackball. In a Proprietory Club the Proprietor is powerful. My advisory committees are a sort of Privy Council, not necessarily known to each other, or to the mem- bers. They are chosen from public men and women who know the world and know it whole ; therefore, rules are formed more to protect clubs against abuse than to enforce laws like Lycurgus did that will admit of no alteration. For eighteen years I have known this system work as the best check of abuse, and the best encouragement of privilege. As an instance of the impotence of rules, a mem- ber of a club that had hundreds of by-laws found ways for a wager to break any one of them, and to do no end of things outre that were not prohibited by any rule. He was found sound asleep in his bath at 3 o'clock a.m., and asked what rule there was to prevent him. There never can be rules to meet the case of one who means to break them, but the tactful appeal to one's reasonableness will generally save from the mortification of being asked to resign. Tact and light touch are the essence of diplomacy. Club management gives ample opportunity to test the quality of this statement. I would extend these methods to the management of prisons and mad- houses. Peg Woffington was the first entertainer at a Ladies' .Club in 1749. She is described as a jovial 224 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS bottle companion, but with few charms as a mere female. The last lady who entertained at the Green Park Club was Mrs Cyril Maude (Miss Winifred Emery), who possessed all the charms necessary to portray to perfection the exacting character of Lady Teazle. Her husband, the inimitable Cyril, acted Sir Peter on this occasion, fulfilling a promise made to me many years previously and so did Fred Terry and his beautiful wife, JuHa Neilson. So many dis- tinguished artistes were constant visitors to my two clubs that one feels no need of apology for writing a few personal lines mingled as they must ever be with pleasant memories and sorrowful regrets. Melba was, of course, the gem. She not only sang for nothing at the Lyric, but declined a paying engage- ment on the same evening. I learned by this an important lesson: if you want a woman to do a favour, ask her boldly. Do not bargain. It is the privilege of the great to give, and to give generously. Patti never sang for me. She told me her fees were one thousand pounds for each performance. The programme in which Melba made her appearance was one of four hundred, the standard we were for ever trying to keep up to. At the Lyric, on the front page of our programmes, was usually a beautiful original drawing by certain of our members, who numbered many famous artists: such camarderie cannot be priced, only valued. In 1895 John Burns, who was then a Liberal, sanctioned the reserve and monopoly of a portion of Battersea Park for the Green Park Club's use. One cannot help stop- ping to gasp at the Socialists allowing the people's park to be roped in for the exclusive use of the smart set, but, luckily for the people, the royal CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 225 parks guard the people's interests better, and when a similar request was made for exclusive privilege in Hyde Park, we were rightly sent to the rightabout. Bicycling was the fashionable vogue, and it was the custom to ride at six o'clock in the morning, and to have breakfast from seven till nine in the Club en- closure. Reminiscent of this custom is a Httle note I have just unearthed from Helen, Lady Radnor, in which she says : " I have taken many parties to Battersea Park who thought breakfast in our Club enclosure quite dehghtful." BicycHng is dead now, and motoring is at its height, and we may yet fly, and we can insure against all risks, except the risks of walking. Two philanthropists I have known, whose works do follow them, were Sam Lewis and George Herring. They, like other friends, Mrs Mackay and her son Clarence, were prodigious in their charities. Mrs Sam's sister was Hope Temple, well known at our clubs, a charming song-writer, who married Messager, and who queens it in France, where her brilliant husband composes and conducts grand opera there and here. A hundred original songs (accompanied by their composers) were sung by great artistes who first constellated there. Paderewski and Ysaye played at the Lyric Club, but, it is true, only upon the billiard table, when tears, careless tears (pronounced tares) left their evidences on the cloth! The list is legion of professional friends who were amateurs then. Kennerley Rumford and Plunkett Greene made their first appearance at the Club when they were amateurs. Writing from memory, amongst the leading amateurs at the close of the last century * who all appeared in some or other of my concerts were : — * Or since — tact ! P 226 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS Mrs and Miss Ellicott Sir Geo. Power Edmund Royds Captain F. C. Ricardo Hon. Edmund Thesiger Hon. Alec. Yorke Allan Mackinnon Cyril Streatfield Chas. Lamb Mr and Mrs Walkes Mrs Arkwright Lord Glentworth Sir Aubrey Deane Paul Harold Boulton Claude Ponsonby Dundas Gardiner Miss Amy Woodforde-Findon Lady Grfffin Countess Valda Gleichen Lady Maud Warrender Lord Shaftesbury Lady Arthur Hill Mrs Godfrey Pearse Philip Trevor Major Harrington Foote Herman Herkomer Lady Eleanor Harbord Bob Martin Frank Pownall The Scott-Gattys Captain Roper Caldbeck The Gilbert Coleridges Sir Timothy O'Brien Lady Glentworth (now Limerick) Her sister, Miss Irwin Count Vinci Mrs Lynedoch Moncrieff Mrs George Batten Kinsey Peile Colnaghi and Cotsford Dick Eustace Ponsonby CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 227 Miss Caroline Holland P. A. Somers-Cocks W. Bellasis W. H. Spottiswoode Cyril Spottiswoode Louis and Miss d'Egville and many others. " Par ordre de Police il est interdit de laisser chanter : dancer: ou reciter les amateurs." This notice, signed by the Mayor of Blois, France, was exhibited in a low tavern in 1886. I bought it and hung it at the Club — but few understood the special significance of " les amateurs," and I dare not tell them! At about that time humour crept into classical programmes, but the surfeit of humour reacts sorrow- fully on the heart, as when Corney Grain spoke to Arthur Roberts, or Grossmith talked to Penley they became sad, but the saddest of all was when a lady engaged seven humorists the same evening. I quite accept the responsibility for introducing humour at classical concerts. I was blamed for the innovation, but it came and stayed — and has con- quered ; but if it is overdone, the curtain of gloom requires Liberal legislation to raise it. I cannot print the thousand artistes' names (they belong to England) who helped at our clubs. They are written indelibly in the chronicle of our time, and remem- bered if unwritten in my chronicle of friendships. As artistes their fame will extend well into the future. By their presence they added distinction and interest to the Green Park and Lyric Clubs, and can never be separated in affection from the days of long ago. Sims Reeves perhaps headed the list of men. Sir Arthur Sullivan was prominently associated. Years ago I revelled in a round of visits with him. He took me the same night to the performance of his 228 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS Oratorio at the Albert Hall; to the performance of his grand opera, " Ivanhoe," at the Opera House, built by him and his friends, and now known as The Palace ; and then to his comic opera, " The Mikado," at the Savoy. Every note in three houses written by one Englishman, Arthur Sullivan. How pleased and proud I felt with the crowded houses, and the roars of applause. Religion, romance, and humour in music — all the emotions that lend joy to life ! These occasions gave me rich reminiscences of a sincere and generous friend, a genius free from all affecta- tion. Never too busy to talk leisurely ; fond of fun and games of chance, and wholly indifferent to money. He and D'Oyley Carte proposed me as a Director of the then Opera House, but I had not the money necessary to qualify. It is a sad reflec- tion, but unreadiness caused the downfall of the Opera House, for after " La Basoche," which ran for too short a time, nothing was ready to follow it. It was then sold to the Palace Theatre, managed by dear old Morton, the Father of Music Halls, and now by Alfred Butt. Unreadiness will not again be its downfall, for " the readiness is all " — Butt ! The composers who at the Green Park and Lyric accompanied their own works were legion — almost all of their day. Besides Sir Arthur Sullivan, there were Miss Frances AUitson, Sir Alfred Scott-Gatty, Maude Valerie White, Miss Del Riego. There were also Massenet, Sir Joseph Barnby, Cotsford Dick, and Herman Bemberg; and again Edward Solomon and Arthur Goring Thomas, Sir A. C. Mackenzie and R. de Koven. To these add Sir John Stainer and Arthur Hervey, Alberto Ran- degger, Landon Ronald, Mrs Moncrieff, Lady Arthur ?i,, A.r;, ^., ;^-^,- ..,-, . ' 'V., .■.., ..V -■. ■. ^^ , —'■'■ ...U^- ,/.(. V vv>>w^i-~, s !-) "^j^. t-Z-^tC,-^^ u^,...A .,,. 1„, .c, .li'l- r,-. .-.ii,.-«fc=- ' / ''L ^ Vx '^^\' '':^~ " ■" BRIEF CHRONICLES OF Sir Arthur Sullivan. Harry Furniss. Phil May. Lord Kitchener, K.P., K C B Hope Temple. O.M., G.C.S.I., G.C.MG ' Thomas Hardy, O.M. G.C.I.E., LL.D. D C L CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 229 Hill, Amy Woodforde-Findon, Lionel Monckton, and Hope Temple, Lawrence Kellie, Bevigniani, Arditi, Hedgecock, Ernest Ford, Wilfrid BendaU, Bob Martin, Quilter, Bunning, Caryll, Mattel, Cellier, Denza, Lambert, and Sir Paolo Tosti, and hosts of others. One night I went with Carl Rosa, the founder of the Opera Company, to the first night of a new opera. Instead of sitting in a box or a stall we stood through one act in the gallery, and the other act at the back of a very crowded pit. This was an object lesson. I learnt that it is the lack of business quality that brings financial riiin to many, in other callings besides the theatrical. The manager must follow the public in order to lead them. It is a high achieve- ment and a most difficult art, and it generally takes the best years of one's life to accomplish it. Artistically, Herve and Offenbach had raised the operetta to such heights that it had to fall, till Gilbert and Sullivan came along. When they came they stayed, and have stayed for a quarter of a century, and will stay. The Green Park Club was going along so well that I began almost to fear success with a shyness with which one meets a stranger. After so many partial failures, I ever smothered the fires of ambition with cinders of patience, and decided to sell when Ladies' Clubs began to decline. I was wrong. The movement which I started was really only half- fledged. Ladies' Clubs were only beginning, but, rightly or wrongly, I sold my Club. Since those days I have seen Ladies' Clubs grow upwards under abler direction and more up to date, but the goodwill of artistes never again quite found home rest in club- 230 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS land. There are all kinds of characters in the artistic temperament. One artiste who helped us we called " the bore contradictor." He was a thriftless soul, but he never left a friend in the lurch. He talked so incessantly that he grew deaf for want of practice in listening. I used to replenish my stock of metaphors through forced listenings to his ceaseless chatter. In the end his voice grew so weak that no one could hear him unless he said ill-natured things. He ended his days in Switzerland, where he grew jealous of the homage paid to the mountains. Lord Dorchester one day pleased me vastly by making this proposal: " Would there be a chance of your Green Park Club accommodating the Dilettante Society, by hanging their pictures .'' About fifteen of us give six dinners in a year between the months of February and July, the first Sunday in each month. If you think the idea worth considering, I would call on you or refer you to Mr Colvin (now Sir Sydney) at the British Museum, our Secretary, or you would find me at home at about twelve any day. It was unnecessary to write justification, as my confidence was not shaken. I knew about your worries at the Lyric Club. ' 'Tis not in mortals to command success,' as Cato says. We will do more . . . deserve it — Yours very truly, Dorchester." Fancy these masterpieces, trophies by dead artistes of the past two hundred years, within an ace of hang- ing in our Club! But it was not to be. Our chef was, alas, not good enough to entertain the Dilet- tante Society. I nursed a vision of founding a Ladies' Dilettante Society, but up to now it has not materialised. I did not succeed in getting the lady president I wanted. Some day I may! I can CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 231 imagine nothing more delightful than a society of the very best living female representatives of Art, Science, and Literature meeting and dining together monthly, and each inviting a man as her guest. Lord Dorchester's letter revived this idea, which I hope may one day be crystallised. The Dilettante Society is nearly two hundred years old. Walpole said the nominal qualification was having been in Italy. The members were of the best. Their funds were largely raised by fines. They paid these fines on increase of income and on marriage. (This rule is revived in the Bachelors' Club). Lord Gros- venor paid five guineas on his marriage with Miss Leveson Gower. Eleven guineas was handed in by the Duke of Bedford on his appointment as First Lord of the Admiralty ; twenty-two guineas given by the Duke of Kingston on an appointment ; twopence three farthings by Lord Sandwich on becoming Re- corder of Huntingdon ; six shillings and eightpence by the Duke of Buccleuch on getting the Thistle; and so on. They spent the money in research in Italy and Greece, and published volumes on ancient sculpture ; but they never had a club-house. During that year I got twenty-five guineas and twenty guineas in fees for reporting and advising upon the probabilities of success concerning two clubs about to start. In each case my advice was the same as Mr Punch's advice to those about to marry. There is no road but experience, though we often get too tired of waiting to enjoy its prizes. The Club was sold, and we resolved to settle in the country; but before we went, the members arranged a complimentary farewell to us both; which affair, Constance, Lady Romney, organised, 232 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS and everybody was most kind about it. George Alexander stood by us. He is just the sort of man that would stand by. From the stage of St James' Theatre he said a lot of nice things. He alluded to the work of my earlier days (though we had never worked together), the days when we lived next door to each other in Park Row, and were friends, though not intimate. Goodwill charged the atmosphere in the St James' Theatre, which was crowded with acquaintances, and I feel now that we ought to have gone on the stage and thanked everybody personally, but we felt just a little choky, and gratefully shy. I do not think any of us know really who our friends are ; the curious limitations, the cold forms of expres- sion, though they do not stifle the deeper emotions, make them difficult to explain in words. As when a man who really is in love stammers over what he meant to say, while the whole time the girl knows this to be the best evidence of the real thing, so in friendship, eloquence does not entirely express deep sincerity ; silence often speaks better. George Alexander just said little simple things about us, and then we quietly bade farewell to London. There was an April-day feeling about it all. Clouds heavily charged, and just a rainbow formed from the glitter- ing of tears upon sunshine — a quiver full of friend- ships. The calamity, if one may use the word, of sentiment, for sentiment it was of the best, did not exist in the times of the ancient Greeks, not until the Alexandrian period, and George Alexander re- vived it that day. Perhaps life's widest knowledge will tell of the value obtained by sensitive realisation. All beautiful things are difficult to create, more difficult to reproduce. We keenly felt that we had V. .... ^ M ' , \ .. .-,,- ^■ ~ '■' X 1 ■^^ ( < 1, "» '>" ■ ■.! (. ^- ' ^"'' <' - (, , ( ^ ? ^ J." ^ •■" '^■" "'^ V? *" >i -—1' -,. .. n; I -■-' '5'- ' ij . ;*_' [ .'■; ,...-'/-•- '"-'"^ >^1 -n o- ^r „ .^ -h-^ lU- 2/ J 'to i#ri \/ j_li_ .iTWUrt- - v^.-^ i*-" :^ii/V^ ^ifci ll.... --'■'■^ lIi-Jj, =^L g '^ ~r_"ir.^T^-f- _l..^ t.4t=^ i?l It-; '-'■t- i\_ :i 1. ' ff" < . 1 'h- i,'' .. M ,;a' s> SJ i . 1 J, -^ -n" ,. \t-m. rE "■^ ^- SOUVENIRS AND DEDICATIONS. Sir Henry Irvire:. Lawrence Kellie. Sir Arthur Sullivan. Sir John Stainer. CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 233 never done anything to deserve this spontaneous ovation ; it seemed to us " much adieu about nothing." However, the practical result was a motor-car and a cheque (both have passed away), but that day's token of goodwill is still fresh through the lapse of years. Shortly after these club episodes were written, the principal figure in the later days' prosperity of the Green Park passed on, leaving affectionate memories in the minds and hearts of those who had profited by her unchanging friendship. The passing away of Constance, Countess of Romney, the last President, revives historic memories, beyond the boundaries of the Green Park Club, of two social tragedies of the far-off sixties. Posthumous, daughter of the second Marquis of Hastings; she was also sister of the last and ill-fated holder of the title, who met his end when but twenty-six, a ruined and broken-hearted man, under circumstances as sadly dramatic as any ever enacted in the old Adelphi days. Tragedy touched Lady Romney again when her late husband, then Viscount Marsham, lost at the gaming tables the princely fortune of one hundred thousand pounds in one night. To conclude. In connection with my apprentice- ship and management of clubs, my five hundred entertainments, to which artistes, voluntarily every one, contributed, were as follows : i6 at 175 Bond Street, Lyric Club 113 at Lyric Club, Piccadilly East 48 at Lyric Club, Barnes 21 at 63 St James' Street, New Lyric Club 3 at 38 Dover Street, New Lyric Club 8 at Royal Institute of Painters, New Lyric Club 234 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS II at 7 St James' Place, Green Park Club 16 at Buckingham Palace Hotel, Green Park Club 165 at 10 Grafton Street, Green Park Club making 401 in my own clubs' interest 57 at People's Palace for charity about 42 for various other charities. Total 500 in thirteen years. I did what I could to secure artistes engagements, and possibly there might have been a fortune in an agency — but I never took such commissions in my life. CHAPTER XV Royal Waterloo Hospital for Children — The Christmas-card Cot — Queen Alexandra and the Waif — The Coming of the Smart Set — Some Service Friends — The French Circus — Some Mis- cellaneous Anecdotes— An Unrepealed Act of Parliament. 1 AM privileged with having served for some years on the Special Appeal Committee of the Royal Waterloo Hospital for Children and Women, twice taking the chair in the absence of the President and Vice- President, the Duke of Argyll and H.R.H. Prince Alexander of Teck. At present I am a delegate on the board of Governors. Some time in 1907 I wrote a two-lined request to the Morning Post requesting that old Christmas cards might be sent by the public to the Waterloo Hospital, Waterloo Road. The result was unexpected. One million and a half arrived, and they are continuing to arrive daily. The scheme was simple. The rich were to give the cards, the idle were to clean and restore them, the poor were to buy them very cheap, and to sell them again to those still poorer. In this way the charity acted automati- cally, and the proceeds resulted in the establishment of a Christmas-card cot at the Hospital. Where to store them was the trouble. As a last resource we transferred them to our cottage at Maidenhead Thicket. I have been shunned ever since. My clubs and my friends' houses have been snowed up with Christmas cards, and my wife has 236 236 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS given me to understand that if we are to continue to live together I must provide some space in the house for her. From year to year ladies work at card restoration, under Miss Daisy Davidson's organising, and so I have not needed to do anything except lean, as I always have done, on the good nature of others to carry out my ideas. However, the cot has entered on its fourth year, 191 2. The discard of useless cards is about seventy per cent, and these are given away to crippled waifs and strays at the rate of one hundred thousand a year. One who has recently passed away, whose latter years were unostenta- tiously devoted to the Hospital, told me that nothing was more heartrending than the farewells, nothing more touching than the kisses and endearments by which the nurses strove to soften for these desolate waifs the pang of leaving the Hospital to return to their slums. A similar sight is familiar on our village green, when London children leave the sky and flowers to return to town after their short holiday. But " the charming agony of love whose misery delights " has sometimes found expression differ- ently. One boy, when his mother hoped he would have fine weather, said he hoped so indeed, for the country was quite dull enough at best of times. The oft-told story of Queen Alexandra's tactful sympathy originated, I believe, at the Waterloo Hospital, when Her Majesty asked a poor little dying waif where she lived. "Near Whiteley's, my lady; where do you?" "Near Gorringe's," repHed the Queen. Let me here set down one of time's enigmas, told me by an old Lyric member, who is now, I suppose, the doyen tutor of Eton and Cambridge, and the author of many books of historical interest. A witness CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 237 in a police court was asked if he had brothers. He said that he had one, but that he had died one hundred and forty years ago! In explanation, the witness stated that he was the issue of a second marriage. His father married first in 1769, at the age of nineteen, and the following year there was born a son, who died when only a few months old. The father married again in 1820, at the age of seventy, and the witness was born the year following, being eighty-nine years of age when giving evidence. On 1 8th August, 19 ro, there passed away Sir Fleetwood Edwards, Keeper of the Privy Purse, and a most trusted and intimate adviser of Queen Victoria. Though shy and retiring in his demeanour, he was a man of remarkable charm and determina- tion, which was hardly apparent at first. Sir Fleet- wood, Lord Strafford, Sir Henry Ponsonby, and Alec Yorke have all passed away. They had all been guests at my Wednesday theatre parties and beauty parties. These Wednesdays have been going on ever since 1888. They are the only means I had or have of returning the numerous hospitalities received from so many quarters. These parties were limited to four. We lunched together, and then went on to some matinee. How grateful I am to the managers for their courtesy and kindness. The other little form of entertainment I called " tea and chat." Beauty parties they really were, and most of the beauties of those years were present, and some met their fate. As is well known, even as late as the nineties, " the smart set " was a vulgarity un- known, and money as a social lever was practically useless. Great ladies did not then borrow lists of dancing men. The parvenu and the social climber 238 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS could not force an entrance. Though stately splen- dour was varied by dowdy dullness, trade and some professions took little or no part in society. The cult of the professional beauty was the first sign of social breakdown when mere good looks were placed too high as a claim to distinction; then followed the money tyranny ; and then our American cousins made things move rapidly, and to-day sees the social debacle through motor-cars, flats and hotel Hfe. Little coteries of many sets spring up in all quarters, but the social doings of the greater houses practically ceased during the last years of Queen Victoria's reign. I cannot imagine my little parties of professional beauties being other than vulgar to-day, but they were not so twenty years ago. Many a good time is associated with them. We used to have judges, most of whose names have appeared in these pages. One was Sir Charles Euan Smith; a fine stock of stories he had, and a wonderful way of telling them. Here is one : While he was in the bazaar, or market-place, of an Afghan town, he was fired at by a native. He lodged a complaint with the Ameer of Afghanistan, who appeared to take no notice of the incident, merely remarking, " That's all right." Sir Charles complained again, and met with the same reply. He still thought that the Ameer was treating a serious matter with less consideration than it deserved, but thought it advisable to say no more on the subject. About a week afterwards he was invited by the Ameer to ride with him. They rode for some dis- tance outside the town, when they passed gibbet after gibbet, from each of which dangled a man. At length Sir Charles remarked : " I see that your High- CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 239 ness has been busy of late." " Oh no ! " replied the Ameer, " these are your little lot." He had taken all the members of the would-be assassin's family and hanged every one of them. Other judges were Lord de Lisle and Dudley, Admiral Denison, Lord Henry Bruce, Lord Wrottesley, Lord Edward Spencer Churchill — and good judges they were ; and the best of it was, not one of the lady guests ever doubted but that she was singled out as queen of beauty. Many friends will remember, with affection, the genial R.A. and the hospitable salon at the Bough- tons. I used to go with Chesborough and Boughton to the Savage Club — that delightful Bohemia that attracts so many men of varied tastes and talents. Twice I sang there. Saturday is their great day, when actors dine and return after the theatre to en- tertain each other until three or four in the morning. Lord Wolesley took the chair at the foundation dinner of some new club which I was interested in organising. He was then the hero of the hour, had gathered laurels from everywhere, and was called " Our only General." He was a man of the world, spruce, and debonair, brave enough as all great men are to acknowledge God before men. I could count in those days upon meeting many soldier and sailor friends at the Service Clubs who had attained distinction, and many more who have attained it since. There were Field Marshall Sir Paul Haines, Generals Keogh, Playfair, Watson, Duff, Hutchin- son (who had twenty parrots in his library at home), and Admiral Denison, with his wonderful microscope. There was Captain Hutton, perhaps the best in the army at foils ; he was challenged by Miss Lowther, 240 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS which hurt his feelings. There was Captain Hadden (now General Sir Charles), Colonel Andrew Haggard, the most picturesque writer of romance in the army, Major Ricarde Seaver, distinguished in mining operations. Colonel Hemans, the son of Felicia Hemans, England's great Victorian poetess. There was J. M. Grierson, then a Captain (now General Sir James), and Captains Heathom and Brownlow, R.N. There were Majors Jocelyn, Goldsmid, Otway, MacLaughlan (amateur champion soldier singer), and Colonel Langley ; and how many others previously referred to in these pages. All of them entertained me well and often, and talked of subjects outside my limited little world. How petty personal memoirs may become! A lazy life makes little things seem important. I steadily refused good pay for good service then and since, fancying that I preferred obscure freedom to salaried servitude. In club making and theatrical managing all those years I had to affect something of the courtier, without possessing any of the courtier's quaHties. I waded through various social waters, and was sometimes embarrassed with failure ; at others boldly successful, filled with illicit pride and secret pleasure, flattered by Httle side commis- sions for work in chalk or clay, getting narcotised with much display of artistry, but really only walking in by-paths of artistic aspiration. Then I began to fall foul of old friends over politics, investing this moth-eaten subject with majestic awe, and treating lightly the greater things of life, as one does in a theatre, where pale and artificial sin and virtue from behind the footlights deeply stir our emotions, while real sin and real virtue in daily life stir us much less. CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 241 Now, however, is no time for mean anxieties. I wish perhaps that it was as customary to say grace before good intentions, as to say grace before meat. Then our silences might become unerring forms of speech. Our inexpressible concords of feeling would prove to be the only true demonstrations of that miserably misconstrued sixth sense called tact. (I was once constrained to write to Pinero on the sub- ject of tact, to which he replied that he had it in his mind sooner or later to write a play on the subject. I wish he would.) In Southwark Cathedral, at our Shakespeare Memorial Service this year, I was introduced to the Poet Laureate, who read a lecture upon Shakespeare from the pulpit. Sometimes one indelibly associates a person with his writing, and all the time the poet was speaking I was thinking of the clever little couplet he wrote of our great Victorian comedy actress many years ago, now Lady Bancroft: " Where saucy Wilton winks her way, And says the more, the less she has to say." In August, 1910, I paid a visit to Marie Corelli, a visit to herself, not her talent, for I am ashamed to say I have never read one of her novels, though I live in hopes that this will soon blow over. She does herself much justice in a tete-a-tete, and is de- lightfully original when excited. Thence to that incomparable beauty of her day, Madame de Navarro, nee Mary Anderson, whose greatest rival is her own sister — Mrs Herkomer, thence (all in Broadway) to Lady Blomfield, the widow of an old friend, Sir Arthur, and on to Lyndhurst, full of memories of Miss Braddon, Lord Leighton, and the Q 242 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS Londesboroughs ; then home, spending a night with George and Evie Nicholson in the snow on Salisbury Plain, where we lost the track in our motor within six hours of May! I was young enough to see humour even in this; but the man endowed with humour is like the quality of mercy. He is twice blest, and not strained. He need not take himself seriously. He finds it easy to be tolerant and sympathetic, a pleasant neighbour and a desirable friend, and can rise ruthlessly over every emotion. Humour is a great leveller, and an antidote to cynicism and morbidity, for it shows how small a space divides the best of us from the worst. It kills false pride and nourishes warm sympathies. It defends our ideals from mockery and proves the strength of our faith in anybody, or anything. Let me now put down a few stories which come into my head. Someone — it may have been the beautiful Princess Monaco — told me that the resi- dent English clergyman at Monte Carlo gave out no hymns under number thirty-six, because some of the congregation were apt to take down the numbers and back them for luck at roulette. My dear old friend, the Rev. Hugh Chapman, now Chaplain of the Chapel Royal, Savoy, was so delighted with his new telephone that he gave out hymn number three double eight, Gerrard. Another friend, who might not wish it repeated, gave out that during Lent there would be matinees on Wednesdays and Fridays. Going back to 1888, referred to previously, I travelled through the beautiful country of the Loire, with a view to improving my French, with a French circus. My wife had some letters of introduction to French friends, with whom she stayed, and where I CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 243 joined her at different points from time to time. She was slightly embarrassed at meeting me, one after- noon, giving a little outing to the giantess, the skeleton, the electric lady, and the dwarf, with whom I was promenading the corridors of an ancient castle. However, she showed her usual tact and never told her friends that I belonged to her. A dear old friend, the only time she went to chapel, heard the pastor pray for rain, and after the service there came on almost a deluge. " That's the worst of Nonconformists, they always overdo things," she said. I lunched with Sandow, who ate, drank, and smoked quite normally, like all his guests. He ex- plained : " I have to lift an orchestra and piano and conductor on my chest in fifteen minutes' time at the PaviHon opposite " ; and there, if you please, I found him holding all the lot on a platform that rested on his shoulders and knees. I have seen him hold a Cabinet Minister — one who lacked the modesty of blatant self-consciousness — by the small of his trousers and lift him over his head at arms' length. At the Pavilion Sandow introduced me to a loquacious Australian, who said he did not know what was coming over Sydney, he did not suppose there were three men in the whole town to-day who could write " Hamlet." His daughter expressed herself as a great admirer of Mr Shakespeare's writings, though she did not think he was quite a gentleman. " Au revoir," she said, " there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so-so." Max Beerbohm told me he was writing a series of articles on the brothers of eminent men; the first subject would be Herbert. To a marriage I went, and anxiously asked who the bridegroom was. It 244 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS was her own husband! They had married, sepa- rated, travelled the world over, each search- ing for someone to love better; they met in a lift, he raised his hat, a new courtship began, and to-day they are married. It is not given to us all to fall in love more than once with the same woman. On the day of Lord Tennyson's death, an admirable pantomime writer shook me flabbily by the hand and said, " Another vacancy in our ranks : Tennyson is dead ! " A Bishop, whom a child had been primed to address as " My Lord," said, " How old may you be, my child ? " Shivering with fright, he replied, " My God, I'm seven! " A mother, accustomed to read a little from the stories of the Bible on Sunday afternoons, suggested the immortal legend of Eden. " Mother, dear, we are so sick of the Adamses." And when told that Eve was formed from Adam's rib and made into his wife, she said, an hour after, with her little hand over her heart, " Mother, dear, I am in such pain, I think I am going to have a little wife! " An Irishman and Scotchman, walking along a country road, came to a signpost at the crossing of the roads ; somebody had written in chalk under- neath, " If you cannot read, ask the blacksmith round the corner." The Irishman bubbled with apprecia- tion, but the Scotchman was puzzled and North ernly annoyed. During the night he woke his friend to say, " Patrick, I see it no\v; the blacksmith might have been oot! " We have all sorts of waifs down from London; amongst them I remember two sailors, handy men out of work. I gave them each a stool and a bucket, CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 245 and said I was sorry I had no other work to offer them except milking cows at a neighbour's farm. After some time one of them returned very di- shevelled, and handed me back the stool and the bucket, and said he could only manage to unmilk a pint. Two hours later the other came back a complete wreck. He told me he had done his level best for three hours, but for the life of him he could not make the cow sit upon the stool! I have referred in this book to unrepealed Acts more than once. The drollest of these Act^ I will try to explain. It took effect during the early days of my occupation of a small cottage, which at the time I held in fee simple from the Lord of the Manor. I had to bring my annual offering, I forget what — either two turtle doves, a rabbit, or a shilling — " to be acknowledged." I got rather tired of this holding, " in free and common socage," which im- pHed determinate service, etc., etc. ; so I sought relief from this fealty, with suit of court and other customs. A price was arranged, and forthwith I was marched off to gain my freedom, being duly " acknowledged " ; the deed was read to me by the steward, and then the Lord of the Manor told me to stand half-sideways and the steward struck me with some weapon upon some part of my body, say- ing, " By virtue of this rod, I acknowledge you, etc., etc.," and so the farce ended; and as long as it remains a farce it need not be mended. A peer of recent creation, however, bought a farm- house, from which he took his title, and showed me the conveyance or title; he bought it because it was the oldest available. My eyes! there were privileges specified in it that had any attempt been 246 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS made to exercise them the peer would have gone to the gallows or the country to a revolution, but as far as I can ascertain, no Act of Parliament has ever repealed these laws. They have slept or crept into abeyance, like many more. One law, still on the Statute Book, imposes penalties upon persons using " any boats " upon the Lord's Day. Scotland made it a capilal offence in the fifteenth century to be caught playing golf on a Sunday ! The King's perquisites, though not enacted, are still within His Majesty's right to claim. Every sturgeon, his tailor's silver needle, the upper part of every whale, and from their respective sources, a curry- comb, a white dove, a tablecloth, a white hare, a knife, a nightcap, scarlet stockings, and crossbows. It is quaint reading that the levee of King or Queen was once an actual ceremonial of getting out of bed and dressing; that Lord Leicester, who was Master of the Horse, arrogated to himself the honour- able famiharity of a Lady of the Bedchamber, hand- ing Queen Elizabeth her clothing, and daring to kiss without being invited to do so (luckily repealed). My gifted friend, Richard Davey, in his " Tower of London," thus describes the bestowal of the order of the Bath. " One of the most curious ceremonies that ever took place was the creation, by Henry IV., of some forty-six Knights of the Bath. The candi- dates for this high honour were first conducted to one of the halls in the White Tower, where forty- six baths, luxuriously draped and filled with warm water, stood ready prepared. After the knights had sat in the baths for a while, the King to each in turn took some of the water and made the sign of the Cross with it on the shoulders of the occupants, CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 247 solemnly pronouncing, at the same time, the words which created him a Knight of the Bath. When the royal party left the hall, the newly made knights were dried by their esquires and ceremoniously put into the adjacent beds." Let me return back to modern times. Andrew Haggard and I were asked to dine at a rich vulgarian's * of political distinction, where we played a practical joke. Our host told us the price he paid for all his possessions, including the wine. Andrew and I, wishing to show our covert disgust, explained how bad wine always produced some spots on our hands ; we then pressed heavily on the holes of the cane-bottomed chairs we were sitting on, and the pressure produced very white lumps like warts, and the surrounding skin got very red. This effect we displayed quite undisturbed, much to the agita- tion of our host, and in all manner of ways we pretended to allay cutaneous irritation. Turning to the Church, my wife remembers as visitors to her home, Cardinal Manning, Cardinal Newman, and Keble, the latter of whom gave her his poems, with an additional one in his own hand- writing. Her aunt wrote down this: that Newman said. Faith, Hope, and Charity are a better explana- tion of the success of Christianity than Gibbon's five reasons. But I remember Dean Church saying that Christianity was a more wonderful thing if it were not true than if it were. Huxley wrote that he could extract a book on scepticism from Newman's writing. Newman retaliated that he could write a book on religion culled from Huxley's views. I am nearing the end of my story, and am * Andrew and I think we were equally vulgarian. 248 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS nervous with the sensations which accompany the compiUng of one's first book ; one wonders whether, all unintentionally, feelings have been hurt, whether friends will be false or foes will be too true, whether the voyage of one's book may be bound in shallows and in miseries. No doubt it is the proper thing to write in the spirit of the reader, but allowing for all this, I confess to the feeling that these pages make me feel like Balaam, as if an ice-taloned prong shot through the brain or pericardium, or like the listening to one's own voice for the first time in public, or the vision of one's first sculpture reproduced. Perhaps memory, which is ever faithful in recording others' sayings, has treacherously forgotten sometimes to acknowledge whose they were. Perhaps intimate conversations have left in my mind some deposit of others' thoughts, quoted but unacknowledged. Language is a strange puzzle ; all the world is putting together again and again the same words in different forms. Who was it said that he and Shake- speare wrote about the same number of words, only they arranged them differently? Natural reflections, yielded by the habitual society of those whose friendships are dear, have yielded to me that happi- ness which students find in books and study. The heart of youth is reached through the senses, and the senses of age are reached through the heart. No man can be wise to-day, or expect to see the con- ditions of the world truly, who has never been a fool. In my ramblings and amblings, my autumn manoeuvres so to speak, I found human nature more interesting than books. I used to try and dissect it. I began with the hereditary privileged classes, and I found some were immoral, or lacking morals, some CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 249 thriftless, hard drinkers, gamblers, neither reputable nor respectable, and, like many, acting perversely. Such men shamed their order. Yet amongst all these so-called privileged classes, I never met one who would forsake a friend, who would shrink from dan- ger, or refuse when needed to serve his country in the meanest capacity ; never one, however wealthy, who would vulgarly parade his riches, however proud, who would indulge in petty conceit, and I have never found the slightest class hatred between peers and people. I mention class hatred because it is the ruling curse. It is the creation of the envious climber, but as when the wasp sips flowers enough he soon stops humming, so the climber ceases to agitate when he tastes the prizes of office. Beginning his political life as a fierce Socialist, he becomes, in the natural process of evolution, a Radical, and ends in his order of congruity — a peer. I wrote and rewrote this book at odd times. I fear it is commonplace. My previous experience has only been collaboration in playwriting, and then I did none of the writing, only watched the dramatic development, and felt the public pulse, as it were ; but here I sit with a dictionary on one side, and a handbook about composition on the other, with a memory so bad that I have had to brush it up by committing to memory the names of the new Chinese Cabinet. Remembrance I regard with suspicion. I have survived many of my friends. Can I be surviving myself, to pay the un- willing tax that follies, foibles, faults, and frailties, wantonness and night-errantry so often pay in the multiplicity of years? In these pages I have had more than once to scratch out a story told in 250 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS previous chapters. The past I see through a magnifying glass, the ego everywhere through it all- — letters too narrow of subject and barren in interest to insert, and where they are of value, the writers bar one the privilege. I was naturally desirous to obtain permission to insert letters received from certain quarters, but the request was declined in a long letter, gracious and friendly in expression, and quite convincing in its reasonable- ness, so my disappointment was somewhat miti- gated. In this chronicle of friendships I am beset with many difficulties. I seem not to be able to avoid the appearance of snobbishness, but the very nature of Clubland renders it liable to be called Snobland because of its everlastingly social aspira- tion to ascend by petty stepping-stones. Amongst the members of clubs of my own creation, there number about five hundred bearing titles. It has always seemed to me that when men have done good public service and received patents of nobility in re- ward, the approval of their fellow-countrymen should be manifested with pride, somewhat as a schoolboy regards the champion of his school. Such adulation is in no sense snobbish. It would be reasonably called snobbish if the adulation were paid to the honours apart from the merit of the men who held them. If Mr is my friend I write and speak about him with pride ; if he is created Lord I must avoid all allusion to him lest I should be thought a snob. I do not agree with this. I rather think that the truckling to the uneducated orders is the present-day manifestation of that detestable word. CHAPTER XVI Copyright in Letters— The Shakespeare Memorial— Who was Shakespeare? In the leisured language of the mind and the free- dom from external distraction, the writer is revealed in his individuality, or perhaps his moods are modelled in accord with the person to whom he writes. I cannot authenticate and characterise these little tabloid biographies with the added charm and help of personal letters. It was Joseph Ham- blin Sears who told me this about letters, that only the ink and the paper belonged to the addressee, that the sense or the sentiment expressed did not, and therefore could not legally be published without the consent of the writer, so in my case it amounts prac- tically to this, that of all the letters I possess, only one is really my own property, and that is the stage letter Duse gave me the first night she acted in Eng- land, for it was only ink and paper, void of sense or sentiment, scribbled to Armand during her great act in " Dame aux Camellias." My collection of letters has been accepted by the British Museum — 1 200, all personal yet useless for these memoirs. In digging for ideas, quotable letters help one so much to bury one's egoism. Stories and memoirs are seldom told or written; they are always retold and rewritten. Here in this chapter let me collect a few passing subjects that have been interesting 251 252 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS to me. The Shakespeare Memorial is one, and that for personal reasons, as I was at the first meeting of its inception. It is a great comfort that so little is known concerning Shakespeare that he remains a fine mystery which I hope will never be solved. It has been wittily said that if it was not Shakespeare it was another man of the same name. Was it William Stanley, sixth Earl of Derby? There is some evidence to support that theory. He employed Shakespeare as his stable boy, and com- missioned him to go to London and take the Globe Theatre, produce " Hamlet," and act the ghost. Count Gleichen writes he was talking to Lady Derby about " her illustrious ancestor " by marriage called William Shakespeare! and she told him someone was now routing about in the Knowsley Library in search of facts. In the fire at Knowsley is supposed to have perished all W. S.'s (WiUiam Stanley's) manuscripts. I think it was Mr Greenstreet who discovered a great deal more evidence in detail ; but one asks, how can it be that the Derby family would not gladly claim such a distinguished ancestor.'' A Lord Derby has, however, declined the throne of Greece, preferring Knowsley to the Parthenon and Lancashire to the Attic plains. Nevertheless, one must conclude that could it have been proved, it would have been, that William Shakespeare was William Stanley. Sir Edwin Durning-Lawrence boldly asserts that Bacon is Shakespeare, and many an hour at his house have I heard him explain this theory, which, through Sir Edwin's tenacity and research, has at last risen to the point of becoming admittedly debatable. It is worthy of note that Sir Toby Matthew, who was CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 253 Bacon's alter ego for thirty years, never alluded to Shakespeare. Then there was Roger, Earl of Rutland, the Bard of Belvoir, a fellow-student with Rosencrantz. He was fixed upon as the author of Shakespeare's works, on the slender grounds that during the time he was in prison no new Shakespearian drama appeared! But what terrible consequences a real discovery would entail. Think of the Shakespeare Memorial National Theatre having to change its name after the trouble spent in fixing it, for, at the Mansion House meeting about half a dozen different titles were proposed, and although the National Theatre section was keenly supported by an anonymous gift of ;^ 70,000, it was my proposal that was carried by a small majority, and " Shakespeare Memorial National Theatre " became the title. In all the other amendments National Theatre came first. I gave a lecture, " Shakespeare's Influence on Lan- guage," but it was an awful undertaking of in- finite labour and pains. Ribald friends used to send messages of kind inquiry, so I had to aflix a notice on my door to the effect that Mr Munday and his literary effort were progressing as well as could be expected. Then came this kind invitation from the treasurer. Lord Avebury, dated 6th May, 1910: " Dear Mr Munday, — I hope you will become one of our lecturers." I feh flattered, and as I had been a member of the original committee of the world's tribute to Shakespeare (proposed by Lord Ronald Gower, and seconded by W. L. Courteney), I accepted Lord Avebury's subsequent invitation. It seems strange that whereas the Hebrew Testa- ment contains only 5642 different words, and 254 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS Milton's works only 8000, this immortal bard, who- ever he was in the flesh, should have used no less than 15,000 different words in his works. As is common with genius, he knew no father nor son. Shakespeare and Bacon left no male descendant. Neither did Chaucer, Spenser, Milton, Dryden, Pope, Cowper, Goldsmith, Byron, or Moore. Neither did Sir Philip Sydney nor Sir Walter Raleigh. No issue of male descent marks the line of Drake, Cromwell, Hampden, Marlborough, or Nelson, nor Burke, Gratton, Canning, or Disraeli. There is not one of Newton, Locke, or Davy ; not one of Hume, Gibbon, or Macaulay ; not one of Hogarth, Sir Joshua Reynolds, or Sir Thomas Lawrence ; not one of David Garrick, John Kemble, or Edmund Kean. Shakespeare's genius was both a source and an end, the very intuition of truth. Journeying with him in illusion and ideality, we rest in happiness and reality. He speaks to the imagination rather than to the senses. His theme of love is a compact with sorrow; his many words seem to mock at silence as the concealment of what one does not know, the wit of fools. His knowledge of the heart has reasons that reason does not understand. Our admiration becomes a tradition and our criticism a caprice. To return to the two organisations: some of "the committee of the world's tribute to Shakespeare merged with the committee of the National Theatre scheme; some declined,. because they did not think Shakespeare should or could be fully represented by attachment to any section of English thought and feeling. CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 265 Shakespeare's special lesson was the portrayal of human affairs, and although great actresses have lent the imagery and the passing charm of their indivi- duality to the interpretation of music as of poetry, they did not " create " Rosalind, Juliet, Ophelia, Portia, Desdemona, Lady Macbeth, or any other of his heroines. These parts were first " created " by boys whose voices were preserved by the doctor or whose acting was enforced by the birch. There were no actresses in Shakespeare's time. True, a great reader or elocutionist helps one to understand the Bible — as a great actor helps one to understand our greatest English writings, dramatic or otherwise . . . but the spiritual message in both cases should stand clear of its exponents in art. CHAPTER XVII My Swan Song — The Manor House Club — Egomania— The Joys of a Recluse — Goose Green — Boys and Animals — My Fare- well—" Much Adieu about Nothing." My aloe tree or swan song is the Manor House Club, for which I was engaged as temporary organising Secretary and Chairman — the Club is too young to be fully described, being not yet twelve months old — may it prosper. It has a really wonderful list of members, and flies high in more senses than one — art, literature, golf, cro- quet, tennis, archery, fishing, boating, shooting, swimming, with scientific agriculture and horticul- ture all beginning to blossom. I would place on record this: that ours was the first club to afford flying facilities in detailed accommodation, and with drilled attendants for the use of officers and the comfort of pilots from the various army aviation grounds. The War Office received the proposal, and the Army Council met and invited me to lay it before them. Brigadier-General F. Rainsford- Hannay, Director of Fortifications, Colonel Sir E. W. Ward, Secretary of the War Office, Major- General Sir C. F. Hadden, Master-General of the Ordnance and old Lyric member, and Colonel Sir A. Bannerman of the Army Air Battalion helped matters along, and Lord Haldane finally allowed our Club to issue the following notice : " The flying 256 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 257 arrangements are made with the concurrence and approval of the Army Council." But the first year of the army aviation was beset with difficulties. At a time when France possessed two hundred, Ger- many one hundred, and Russia three hundred aero- planes. Great Britain was groping with ten — whose utility, judging by the martyrdom of the pilots, it almost seems would have been most effectively applied by presenting the Air Battalion to the enemy — but nothing could have been kinder or more courteous than the relations established between the War Office and the Manor House Club. Perhaps the pleasantest augury to chronicle in this book is the consent of H.R.H. Princess Christian to become Patron of the Club — a gracious recognition of the owners and founders — two ladies — of whose philan- thropic work in many directions no one could write too much or too earnestly. I have met and talked with the following, who have all gone hence : Tom Taylor, Westland Mar- ston, Matthew Arnold, J. S. Delane, Mark Patteson, N. Oliphant, W. Allingham, Adelaide A. Proctor, Erasmus Wilson, L. Stephen, Sir Theodore Martin, J. A. Froude, Thomas Woolner, A. H. Haig (the etcher), John Pettie, Philip Calderon, Jean Ingelow — but many of them are forgotten, for " the dead die quick." I met a young lady to-day who had never heard of Henry Irving, though she adored H. B. and Laurence Irving. The man of the age is now the man of the hour. Everything passes so quickly; even misery fails in its full effect. And now must these chronicles close quickly. Sherard writes of a pauper found drowned who left this written message : " There is no freedom like a R 258 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS waif's. I am honestly enjoying my last hours with a pencil and some grey packing-paper — I'm writing my memoirs." What curious turns egomania takes — pursuit of wealth and fame, anything except one thing, and that most easy, yet most difficult to acquire, a sense of rest. It seems easy to get, because a cabbage gets it ; difficult, because to the man of the world it means the aftermath of life. The recluse is only happy if he has seen everything and known everybody; if he is asked everywhere and goes nowhere. He is no cynic at heart, though he likes to appear one on the surface. He has lived long enough to under- stand the real joy and childlike appreciation of nature's pleasures that are free. He need not hanker vainly after locusts and wild honey in a wilderness if he lives in English country, where his animals put more soul into a gaze than half the parish can express in words. If he has revelled in the flaunting luxuriance of the East, or tasted to the full the life of London-on- Thames, he takes the joy of EngHsh country life for granted and knows it is a thing of peace. Personally, I love the importance that little things assume in the country. A caterpillar on a seedling affects my temperamental barometer. I watch just now, with wild excitement, a London waif (one of the doubtful blessings we plant on the village by the score each year) ; he is carrying water to a brood of rather elderly ducklings who are dis- porting themselves (apparently without parental sujjervision) upside-down in a mud pond. The pond is overflowing, and it is raining in torrents ; so I sug- gest it is waste of labour, whereupon I see him, full of CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 259 good intention, rushing towards me with eleven eggs. He says he must hurry back as the hen is still laying — one of the eggs is china. I gave the boy sixpence, which he, sobbing, returned, asking me to make it a penny, as he could keep a penny — but sixpence he would feel bound to give to his mother. A field is set apart near by for overworked horses to end their days in doubtful joy. They seem to long for work, and neigh and trot about, quite bored with continued rest. We found one dead in a shed. He had walked round and round of his own free will ; this we knew by the deeply rutted circle. It transpired he had worked his latter years turning and churning in a limekiln. I suppose he thought he had to pay for his rest, and as no one was there to stop him, he went on till he died, thence to the land of carrots and sugar to join our beloved pets. The devil is reputed to be a busy person, but he seems a little idle on our goose green. Nothing very much happens there. The usual inexpressible satisfaction of little desires is attained by numer- able little councils, which bind everybody together in antipathy and petty rivalries — but nothing more disturbing than the tranquillity of virtue or the noise of idleness prevails. Although the old order is rapidly changing, the country remains the same, solace incomparable. There may be times when one frets like the moth or smoulders like the hidden flame that burns with- out illuminating. In other words, it is possible at times to be bored — times when one is inclined to think oneself so much wickeder than one is — when one tries to throw off experiences like the black missionary his clothing, and to answer to some call 260 CHRONICLE OF FRIENDSHIPS or other, perhaps to the gutter call; there to trans- form again the smug peacefulness of present content to the battle and strife of early circumstance with all its muddy surroundings. Few weapons are more formidable against one than one's own reminiscences. There are thrusts in them which one cannot parry — false notes creep in. Still our little memories, chronicHng friendships and fellowships, count in life. They sum up the hey-day of a first meeting and the murmur of a last good-bye. Love and friendship are the prizes most worth entering for, but Death alone can designate each one's handicap, and no one knows till the race is over how much or how little he can carry. And so, in all good fellowship, I close my first Chronicle of Friendships. '''^c Names are the beads of Memory's Rosary. I have had these autographs facsimiled from Mr Munday's collection of letters because they connect the past with the present. They are all stars in the firmament of Art, and have all taken part without money and without price in a thou- sand hours of Play and Song — memorable social gather- ings initiated and managed by Mr Munday to whom I present this Farewell Tribute from the Green Park Club, headed by its Royal members. These, together with the Lyric records', and seventy-six entertainments organised in an honorary capacity for charities, complete the five hundred concerts and plays given by him during the past twenty years. Constance, Countess of Romney, 1907. /n/litfL^' °$%f"r ^^^^i- ?> ss^^i *^ ^A /■ ■'5?;, 'i INDEX *»* "^^i^ Index does not include some lOO facsimile autographs of artist friends printed on the previous pages Abergavenny, Marquis of, 149 Aidg Hamilton, 52, 56, 59, 67, 106, 121 Ailesbury, Henry, sth Mar- quis of, 76, Q3, IQ9 Albanesi, Signer and Madame, Q7 Albanez, Sefior, 122 Albani, Madame, 69 Albany, H.R.H. Duchess of, 140 Alderson, Ralph, 141 Alexander, George, 93, 121, 136, 221, 232 Alexandra R. and I., 236 Allan, Maud, 204 Allingham, W., 257 AUitsen, Miss Frances, 228 Althorp, Lord, 140 Arabi, Pasha, 46, 47 Arbos, Seiior, 122 Arditi, Signor, 229 Argyll, Duke of, 3 Aria, Mrs, 122 Arkwright, Mrs, 226 Armbruster, Carl, 123 Arnold, Matthew, 257 Ashton, George, 132 Astley, Sir John (The Mate), 123, 148 Austen, Alfred (Poet Laureate), 241 Avebury, Lord (Sir John Lubbock), 58, 114, 253 Bainbridge, Captn. R. N., 208 Baldi, Mile (Lady Tosti), 150 Ball, Sir Robert, 196. _ Bancroft, Lady (Marie Wil- ton), 241 Bancroft, Sir Squire, 75, 95 Bannerman, Col. Sir Alexan- der, Bart., 256 Barlow, Major, 82 Barnby, Sir Joseph, 22, 75, 93. 152 Barnum, P. T., 208 Barrett, Wilson, 200 Barrie, J. M., 183 Barrington, Rutland, 93, T50 Barter, Major, 102 Batten, Mrs George, 226 Battenberg, Prince and Prin- cess Henry of, 129 Battersea, Lord, 162 Bayard (U.S. Minister), Mr and Mrs, 196 Beardsley, Aubrey, 157 Beaufort, Duke of, 184 Bective, Lady, 163 Beerbohm, Max, 97, 206, 207, 243 Belcher, George, 162 Bemberg, Hermann, 140 Bendall, Ernest, 142, 183 Bendall, Wilfrid, 229 Benson, Mr and Mrs F. H., 176 Berenson, G., 157 Beresford, Lord Chas., 76 Bernhardt, Sarah, 57, 121, 123, 134 Besant, Major, 102 Bethune, C. C, 53, 68 Bevignani, Signor, 229 Bispham, David, 55, 168 Black, Col. and Miss, 169 Blomfield, Sir Arthur and Lady, 241 Blood, General Sir Bindon and Lady, 92, 162, 206 Blume, Alfred, 53 Bosanquet, R. A., 33 Boulton, Harold, 68, 70 265 266 INDEX Boughton, George, R.A., and Mrs, 230 Boyd, Archdeacon, 35 Braddon, Miss (Mrs Maxwell), 92, gs, 241 Brandram, Rosma, 123 Brett, Hon. Sylvia (Ranee Muda), 182 Bridge, Sir C, 75 Brittain, Harry, 120 Brooke, Bertram, 182 Brooke, Harry, 182 Brooke, Lady (Ranee of Sara- wak), 141, 146 Brookfield, Charles, 142, 183 Brough, Fanny, 163 Brough, Lionel, 13, 135, 136, 200 Browne, Lennox, 123 Browning, Oscar, 236 Browning, Robert, 153, 154, 155. 156 Brownrigg, Sir Henry and Lady, 148 Bruce, Edgar, 122 Bruce, Lord Henry, 239 Buffalo Bill (Col. Cody), 135 Bunning, Herbert, 229 Burnand, Sir F.C., 136,158 Burne-Jones, Sir Philip, Bart., 207 Burns, John, M.P., 224. Butler, Frank Hedges, 137 Butt, Alfred, 14, 228 Caine, Hall, 98 Caldbeck, Captn. Roper, 226 Caldecott, Alfred, 122 Calderon, Philip, 257 Cambridge, Duke of, 2, 80, 186 Campbell, Mrs Patrick, 157, 163 Carnegie, Hon. Douglas, 122 Carr, Comyns, 106, 122, 139 Carte, D'Oyley, 228 Caryll, Ivan, 122, 136, 229 Cawston, George, 103 Cayley, Sir R., 27 Cecil, Arthur, 200 Cellier, Alfred, 122, 136, 229 Chamberlain, Joseph, 102 Chambers, Haddon, 202 Chapman, Rev. Hugh, 242 Chesebrough, Col. and Mrs, 169 Chevalier, Albert, 53 Christian, H.R.H. Princess, 2, 140, 215, 257 Church, Dean, 247 Churchill, Lady Edward Spen- cer, 215 Churchill, Lord Edward Spen- cer, 76, 93, 239 Churchill, Lord Randolph, 76 Churchill, Winston, 162, 163 Clancarty, Countess of, i85 Clare, Tom, 176 Clarence, Duke of, 32 Clay, Cecil, 80, 106 Clayton, Col. Sir Fitzroy and Lady Isabel, 169, 199 Clement, Major, 87, 169 Coffin, C. Haydn, 68 Cole, Wentworth, 118, 208 Coleridge, Hon. Gilbert, 104 Coleridge, Hon. Stephen, 104 Coleridge, Lord, 104 Collier, Admiral Sir Francis, 26 Collier, Admiral Sir Geo., 26 Collier, Col. and Mrs, 52 Collins, Lottie, 204 Colnaghi, C, 226 Colvin, Sir Sydney, 230 Conolly, Tom, 82 Cook, E. T., 23, 151 Coquelin, 121, 163, 171 Corelli, Marie, 92, 241 Cornwallis West, Mrs, 58 Courteney, W. L., 253 Courthope, W. F., 17, 45 Coward, Lewis, K.C., 4 Cowie, Dean, 10, 17 Crawford, Marion, 98 Crawford, Oswald, 94 Creighton, Dr (Bishop of London), 220 Cropper, Mrs Thornburgh, 68 Cust, Lionel, 157 Cutler, Cecil, 24 Dacre, Arthur and Amy ROSELLE, 123 Daly, Augustin, 175 "Danby, Frank," 97 Darnley, Lord (Ivo Bligh), 79 Daudet, 145, 146 Davey, Richard, 246 Davies, Ben, 52 De Bathe, Lady, 187 De Costa_, Mario, 153 De Crespigny, Sir Claude C, d':^e ;gville, Louifs and Miss, 227 De Koven, Reginald, 228 INDEX 267 De Lara, Isodore, 68, 153 De Lisle and Dudley, Lord, 76, 239 D'Orsay, Count, 24, iq8 De Soria, M., 68 De Wet, Sir Jacobus, 37 De Windt, Harry, 102 Delane, Mr J. S., i6o, 257 Del Riego, Miss, 228 Denison, Admiral the Hon. A., 76, 239 Denison, Lady Lilian, 1.23 Denison, Lady Mildred, 123 Denza, Luigi and Madame, 229 Derby, Lord, 252 Desborough, Lord, 87 Dick, Cotsford, 122, 228 Dickens, Edmund, 168 Dilke, Sir Charles, 209 Dolgorouki, Princess Alexis, 58 Dorchester, Lord and Lady, 93. 230 Douglas, James, 204 Du Maurier, George (Punch), 142, 152 Du Maurier, Gerald, 141 Dunlop, Admiral, 168 Dunmore, Lord, 102 Durning-Lawrence, Sir Edwin, Bart., and Lady, 252 Duse, Eleanora, 57, 134, 136, 251 ECKNILIGODA, 47 Edinburgh, H.R.H. Duke of, 2, 208 Edward R. and L, 58, 137 Edwardes, George and Mrs, 175, 176 Edwards, Sir Fleetwood, 132, 237 Egerton Castle, Mr and Mrs, 97 Ellicott, Mrs and Miss, 226 English, Col. R. E., 26 English, General, C.B., 26 English, Mabel (Mrs Munday), 25 Evan Thomas, Captain, R.N., 48 Evans, A. B., D.D., 18 Ewing, Juliana Horatia, 95 Ewing, Major, 35, 95; 181 Fairfield, Edward, C.B., 83, 172, 184 Farren, Nellie, 118 ffrench, Percy, 102 Fiori, E., S3 Flower, Sir E., 68, 70 Forbes Robertson, Mr and Mrs, 121, 163 Ford, Ernest, 122, 229 Fortescue, Miss, 122 Frankau, Mrs, 97 French, Samuel, 122 Frith, Walter, 122 Froude, J. A., 257 Furness, Harry, 228 Garcia, Manuel, 53 Garnett, Sir R., 96 Gatti, Carlo, 12 Gen6e, Adeline, 204 George R. and I., 32, 163, 196 German, Edward, 52 Germany, H.LM. Emperor Frederick of, 213 Germany, H.I.H. Empress Frederick of, 70 Germany, H.LM. William, Emperor of, 102, 162 Giddens, George, 200 Gilbert, Alfred, R.A., 169 Gilbert, Sir W. S., 120, 136, 177, 207, 229 Gladstone, W. E., 18, 100, 105, 184, 209 Gleichen, Count, 252 Gleichen, Countess Feodora, 167 Gleichen, Countess Valda, 226 Glentworth, Lord, 226 Glynn, Miss (Mrs Dallas), 53, 95, 116 Godfrey Pearse, Mr and Mrs, 119 Goldsmid, Col., 240 Goldsmid, Sir Julian, Bart., 93 Gordon Cummmg, J., 44 Gordon, General, 50 Gordon, Hon. George, 167 Gordon, Sir Arthur (Lord Stanmore), 32 Gotto, Basil, 168 Gouraud, Col. (Sahara King), 85 Gower, Lord Ronald Suther- land, 146, 167, 253 Grace, W. G., 79 Grain, Corney, 71, 176, 227 Greene, H. Plunkett, 163, 225 268 INDEX Greet, William, 123 Gregory, Lady, 38 Gretton, John, 136 Greville, Lord and Lady, 123 Grierson, Gen. Sir James, 240 GrifSn, Lady, 226 Grisi and Mario, 119 Grossmith (late), George, 93, 123. 179. 200, 227 Gully, Mr Speaker, 75, 90, 92 Guthrie, T., 197 Hadden, Genl. Sir Chas., 240, 256 Haggard, Col. Andrew, 102, 211, 246 Haggard, Sir Rider, 211 Haggard, Sir William, 44 Haig, George Ogilvie, 136 Haines, Field Marshall Sir Paul, 239 Haldane, Lord, 256 Hampton, Lord, 66 Hanbury, Miss Lily, 123, 168 Hanney, F. Rainsford — Brigr.- Genl., 256 Hanson, Sir Reginald, 83 Harbord, Lady Eleanor, 226 Hardie, Keir, 163 Hardy, Thomas, 228 Hare, Augustus, 148 Hare, Sir John, 163 Harris, Sir Augustus (" Druri- olanus"), 75, 83, 93> 95, 127, 159 Hatton, Joseph, 122 Hawke, Lord, 76 Headfort, Marquis of, 162 Hedgecock, Walter, 229 Hemans, Col., 240 Herkomer, Hermann and Mrs, 163, 206, 226, 241 Herring, George, 225 Hervey, Arthur, 228 Hicks, Seymour, 123 Hill, Lady Arthur, 226, 228 Hill, Lord Arthur, 93 Hills, Sir Arnold F., 72 Hogg, Quinton, 46 Hohenlohe, H.S.H. Prince Victor of, 167 Holland, Canon, 64 Holland, Caroline, 52, 64-67, 1 50-1 Holland, Hon. Sydney, 201 Hollingshead, John, 120 Holmann, Josef, 164 Horan, Mr and Mrs, 169 Howard, Hon. Kenneth, 198, 199 Howe, Lord, 26 Huddlestone, Lady Diana, 106, 247 Hutchinson, Gen. (Cooty), 239 Hutton, Captain, 239 Huxley, Professor, 247 iLLiNGTON, Marie, 141 Ingelow, Jean, 257 Irving, Ethel, 141, 203 Irving, H. B., 257 Irving, Laurence, 257 Irving, Sir Henry, 57, 75, 93, 116, 117, 121, 171, 181, 232 James, Henry, 98 Janotha, 222 Jeffreys, Ellis, 122 Jerningham, Charles (Marma- duke), 172, 209 Jerningham, Sir Hubert, 161, 172 Jerome, Jerome K., 136 Jessup, A. E., 102, 212 Jocelyn, Major, 240 Jones, Henry Arthur, 158 Jones, Henry (Cavendish), 80 Keble, 247 Kellie, Lawrence, 52, 53, 150, 228, 232 Kendal, Madge (Mrs W. H. Grimston), 57, 92 Keogh, General, 239 Ker Grey, Rev., 220 Ker, Lord Charles, 195 Kettlewell, Mr and Mrs, 122 Kingston, Gertrude, 122 Kipling, Rudyard, 98, 103, 156 Kirk, Sir John (Africa), 199 Kitchener, Lord, 47, 95, 211, 228 Knight, Joseph, 122 Knowles, Sir James, 161 Knutsford, Lord, 64 LABOUCHfcRE, Henry, 13, 46, 90, 97, 209, 210 Labouchfere, Miss Dora (Mar- chesa di Rudini), 172 Labouchfere, Mrs (Henrietta Hodson), 172 Lacey, Walter, S3 Lambert, Frank, 150, 163, 229 Langley, Col., 240 INDEX 269 Langtry, Mrs, 82, 171 Le Gallienne, J., 156 Leighton, Lord, 134, 241 Lethbridge (late). Sir Wroth, 148 Lewis, Eric, 123 Lewis, Sam, 225 Lewis, Sir George, 105 Liddon, Canon, 10 Liddell, Dean and Mrs, 1Q5, iq6, IQ7 Liddell, Lady Eleanor, ig8 Limerick, Countess of, 226 Lindsay, Lady Jane, 122 Lipton, Sir Thomas, 12, 29 Liszt, Abbe, 52, 154 Lodge, Sir Oliver, 146 Loftus, Mr and Mrs Augustus, 102, 141 Londesborough, Countess of, 200. Londesborough (Edith), Coun- tess of, 52, 85, 92, 241 Londesborough, Lord, 52, 76, 78, 85, 93, 241 Longden, Sir James, 32 Lowther, Miss, 239 Lyall, Sir Alfred, 179 Lyons, Sir Joseph, 12 M'Carthy, Justin H., 123, 156 Macdonald, Sir Claude, 112 MacFarren, Sir G., 52 MacKenzie, Sir Morell, 75, 213 MacKinnon, Gen. Sir W., 75, 122, 13s MacLaughlan, Major, 240 MacMahon, Maijor, F.R.S., R.A., 168 Mackay, Clarence, 225 Mackay, Mrs, 225 Mackenzie, Sir A. C, 75 Macleay, Col., 167 Macleay, Sinclair, 73, 76 Macleay, Sir George and Lady, 123 Macleod, General, 30 Madamanweliya, 44 Maeterlinck, Maurice, 123, 147, 183, 184 Maitland, Sir James, Bart., 103 Mallock, W. H., 156 Manning, Cardinal, 247 Marchesi, 53 Marlborough, Duke of, 164 Marshall, Captain, 158 Marston, Westland, 257 Martin, Bob, 226, 229 Martin, Mr and Mrs Pitney, QS Martin, Sir Theodore, 257 Mascagni, 202 Massenet, M., 163, 228 "Mathers, Helen," 97 Matthew, Archbishop, 169 Maude, Cyril, 122, 163, 200, 224 Maude, Mrs (Winefred Emery), 122, 244 Maxwell, William B., 95 May, Phil, 162, 214, 228 Melba, 164, 216, 224 Menkins, Ada, 16 Meredith, George, 146, 153, 156, 163 Messager, M., 225 Meyers, Frederick W. H., 146, 147 Meyers, Leopold, 141 Meyers, Mrs (Miss E. Ten- nant), 146, 151 Millais, Sir John, Bart., 76; 151, 184 Milward, Jessie, 18 Mocatta, Cecil, 169 Monaco, Princess of, 242 Monckton, Lady, 123 Monckton, Lionel, 123 Moncrieff, Mrs Lynedoch, 226, 229 Monkhouse, Harry, 122 Moore, Augustus, 170 Morrison, Charles, 4 Mortimer, Menpes, 170 Morton (Father of music halls), 228 Mounteney-Jephsfin, A. J., 103, 168 Munday, Anthony, i Munday, Mrs, 24 Murdoch, C. S., C.B., 69, 83 Napier, Sir Archibald, Bart., 168 Needham, Col. the Hon. C, 115 Neillson, Christine, 181 Neilson, JuFia, (Mrs F. Terry), 52, 224 Nelson, ist Lord, 30 Nevill, Lady Dorothy, 106, 123, 199 270 INDEX Nevill, Miss M., 123 Neville, Henry, 135 Newman, Cardinal, 247 NichoUs, Agnes, 55 Nicholson, George and the Hon. Evie, 242 Nicholson, Reginald, 120 Nisbet, J. E., 122 Norman, Field Marshall Sir Henry, 42 NorreyS] Genii Rose, 201 O. U. B. C, 156 O'Brien, Sir Timothy, Bart., 79, 226 O'Connor, T. P., M.P., 97, 163, 201 Oliphant, N., 257 Otway, Col., 240 Oudin, Eugene, 68 Ouida (Louisa de la Ramee), 158 Ouseley, Sir Fred. G., Bart., 22 Paderewski, 164, 225 Palmer, Sir Walter and Lady, 153 Pape, E. J., 83 Parker, Sir Gilbert, Bart., 161 Patteson, Mark, 257 Patti, Adelina, 92, 224 Peel, Sir Robert, Bart., 160 Peile, Kinsey, 226 Pelligrini, Carlo (" Ape "), Pemberton, Edgar, 120 Penley, W. S., 227 Pettie, John, R.A., 257 Phelps, 181 Philips, Sir Claude, 157 Philips, Stephen, 178 Piggott, Sir J., 69, 142, 183 Pinero, Sir Arthur Wing, 92, 178, 241. Pitman, Sir Isaac, 3 Playfair, General, 239 Plowden, A. Chichele, 163 Ponsonby, Claude, M.P., 226 Ponsonby Fane, Hon. C., 69 Ponsonby, Sir Henry, Bart., 70, 129, 131 Potter, Paul, 142 Power, Sir George, Bart., 73, 97, 208 Pownall, Frank, 226 Proctor, Adelaide Ann, 257 QUEENSBURY, MARQUIS OF, 195 Quilter, Mr, 229 Rackham, Rev. R. 3., 205-6 Radnor, Helen, Countess of, 225 Raincliflfe, Lord, 123 Randeggar, Alberto, 53, 228 Raymond, Rev. (Vicar of Bray), 169 Redford, G. A., 140, 183 Reeves, Sims, 216, 227 Rhodes, Cecil, 103 Ricarde-Seaver, Col., 240 Ricardo, Col. F. C, 226 Richards, H. C., K.C., 24 Richmond, Sir Wm., Bart., R.A., 171 Richter, 123 Ristori, Madame, 134 Ritchie, Clement, 83, 93, 123 Rivere, Jules, 121 Roberts, Arthur, 53, 227 Roberts, Lord, 152, 195 Robertson, Jack, 68, 123 Rodin, 163 Romney, Constance, Countess of, 215, 232, 233 Ronald, Landon, 229 Ronalds, Mrs, 208 Roosevelt, 45 Rosa, Mr and Mrs Carl, 123, 229 Rowton, Lord (Monty Corry), 207 Royds, Edmund, M.P., 226 Rumford, Kennerly, 163, 225 Ruskin, 23, 145, 151-2 Russell, Lilian, 213 Russell of Killowen, Lord, 106 Rutland, Duke of, 92 Salamon, Malcolm, 123 Salisbury, Lord, 18 Salting, Mr, 106 Salting, Mrs George, 106 Sanders, Lady Virginia, 162 Sanderson, Sybil, 208 Sandow, Eugene, 81, 102, 152, 243 . ^ Santley, Sir C, 53, 75 Sarawak, H.H. the Ranee of, 141, 146, 163, 182 Sarawak, Raja Muda of, 182 Schleswig Holstein, Princess Louise of, 215 INDEX 271 Schleswig Holstein, Princess Victoria of, 215 Scott, Clement, 120, 175, 203 Scott-Gatty, Sir Alfred (Garter King) and Lady, 67, 69, 75, 146, 156, 181 Sears, Joseph Hamblin, 251 Selby, Lord, 75, 90 Selous, F. C., 102, 195 "Sem," 163 Shaftesbury, Earl of, 93 Shakespeare, W., 53 Shaw, G. Bernard, 184, 202 Shaw, Sir Eyre, 6 Siam, H.M. King of, 196 Sims, George R., 136 Skrine, Duncan, 35 Smalley, W. G., 196 Smith, Sir Charles Euan, 238 Smythe, Ethel, Mus. Doc, 188 Solomon, Edward, 212, 213 Solomon, Solomon J., R.A., 171 Somers-Cocks, P. A., 227 Spottiswoode, Cyril, 227 Spottiswoode, W. H., 227 St John, Florence, 220 St Leonards, Lady, 123 Stainer, Sir John, 21, 75, 93, 228, 232 Stanley, Hon. Arthur, 141 Stanley, Lady, 99, 103, 151 Stanley, Sir H. M., G.C.B., 99, 103, 184 Stephen, Leslie, 257 Stephenson, B. C, 136 Stepniak, 1 50 Stoddart (Surveyor General of Ceylon), 43 Stoker, Bram, 199 Strafford, Lord, 129, 237 Streatfield, Col., 199 SufHeld, Lord, 93 Sullivan, Sir Arthur, 75, 93; 120, 136, 208, 213, 227, 228, 229, 232 Sylvestre, Armand, 121, 123 Tadema, Sir Lawrence Alma, 134 Tankerville, Earl of, 169 Taylor, Tom, 257 Teck, H.S.H. Prince Alexan- der of, 2, 58, 163, 196 Tempest, Marie, 52, 53, 122 Temple, Hope (Mme Mes- sager), 151, 225, 228 Tennant, Miss Dorothy (Lady Stanley), 99, 103 Tennant, Miss Margot (Mrs Asguith), 200 Terfiss, William, i8, 179, 180, 184, 197 Terry, Edward, 123 Terry, Ellen, 57, 117, 121, 122, 152, 179, 182 Terry, Fred, 224 Thaddeus, H. J., 122 Thesiger, Hon. E., 226 Thomas, Arthur Goring, 52, 136, 150 Thompson, Sir Henry (Pen Oliver), 157 Thorndike, Herbert, 68 Thornton, " Buns," 79 Thynne, Lord Henry, 93, 123, 148 Toole, J. L., 71, 122, 181, 200 Tosti, Sir Paolo, 75, 114, 229 Toynbee, Arnold, 154 Toynbee, Mrs, 123, 154 Toynbee, William, 123 Tree, Sir Herbert Beerbohm and Lady, 75, 93, 106, 116, 123, 125, 131. 132, 163, 171, 177. i97> 202, 206, 221 Tree, Viola, 128 Tristram, Outram, 127 Tupper, Sir J., 69, 142 Ulmar, Geraldine, 122, 136 Ulster, King of Arms (Captn. Wilkinson), 162, 167 Upton, Fred, 123, 200 Van Beers, Jan, 164 Vanderbilt, Mr, 151 Vaughan, Kate, 204 Vavasour, Sir Henry and Lady, 4, 74, 169 Vezin, Hermann, 180 Victoria R. and I., 2, 68, 118, 129, 130, 151, 208, 215, 239, 259 Villiers, Rev. Prebendary, 220 Vinci, Count, 226 Vine, Sir Somers, 137 WADE, G., 168 Wagner, Richard, 22, 53, 123 Walker, J. G., 70 Walkes, Mr and Mrs, 226 Waller, Lewis, 176, 179 Wantage, Lady, 122 272 INDEX Ward, Col. Sir E. W., 12, 256 Ward, Genevieve, 141, 181 Ward, Leslie ("Spy"), 152, 163 Warrender, Lady Maud, 226 Watson, General, 168, 239 Watson, Malcolm, 122 Wedderburn, A., 151 Wellington, Evelyn, Duchess of, 68 West, Col. Cornwallis, 210 Westbury (Florence) Lady, 122, 215 Whistler, James, 96, 98, 164, 170 Whitaker, Mrs, 58 White, Maude Valferie, 151, 228 Wilde, Lady, 95 Wilde, Oscar, 95, 96, 98, 156, 183 Wilde, Willie, 95, 97 Wilder, Marshall, 68, 200 Wilkinson, Captn., 162, 167 Williamson, Mrs C. N., 97 Wilson, Erasmus, 257 Windham, Right Hon. G., 147 Wolseley, Lord, 47, 239 Wood, Derwent, A.R.A., 168, 170 Wood, J. S., 97 Wood, Mrs John, 200 Wood, Sir Evelyn F. M., 211 Woolner, Thomas, 257 Wortham, General Hale, 213 Wright, George Smith, 122 Wrottesley, Lord, 169, 239 Wrottesley, the Hon. Evelyn, 123 Wyndham, Sir Charles, 75, 92, 93, 116, 138-9, 177 Yardly, William, 123 Yates, Edmund, 97, 120, 172 Yelverton (Teresa) Countess of, 29 Yohe, May (Lady Frances Hope), 137 Yorke, Hon. Alec, 146 Young, Harriet, 122 Ysaye, 225 Zangwill, I., 153, 159 Zeitlin, J., 168 Zola, Emile, 146 Zola, Madame, 159 THB NORTHUMBERLAND PRESS, THORNTON STREET, NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE