ALL the forecasts that warned Irving to expect in Chicago a coarse
fibre of civilization and an absence of artistic appreciation were
reversed in the Prairie city. Night after night great, generous,
enthusiastic audiences crowded Haverly’s Theatre. Quick of perception,
frank in their recognition of the best features of Irving’s work,
they were cordial in their applause, and hearty in their greetings
of the novelty of it. The critics interpreted the sentiments of the
audiences, and put their feelings into eloquent sentences. They showed
knowledge and sincerity of intention and purpose, and some of them
criticised severely the carping spirit in which one or two Eastern
contemporaries had dealt with the London actors. The hospitality of
Chicago is proverbial. It was made manifest in many ways,—in offers
of carriages for sleigh-riding, of ice-boats, of railway cars. Irving
and Miss Terry had to decline more invitations than they accepted.
Members of the company were also entertained at breakfasts and
suppers. After the first night, and the acceptation of Irving as a
reformer of the stage, and as the author of what to Chicago was a
new pleasure, the city literally opened its doors to Irving and his
friends. Among the receptions to Mr. Irving was a breakfast given
by Mr. John B. Carson,[38] at which the Mayor spoke of the pleasure
Chicago experienced in Irving’s visit, and upon which occasion Mr.
Joseph Medill, the editor of the “Tribune,” who had seen Irving in
London, as well as in Chicago, proclaimed him the one Shakespearian
actor who interprets and exhibits the conceptions of the poet with a
proper naturalness, and in such a manner as to make people regret that
Shakespeare could not revisit the world to see what had at last been
done for his plays. The health of Miss Terry was proposed and drunk
with all the honors; as it was, also, at a very dainty reception given
one night after the play to Miss Terry herself, at the Calumet Club,
by Mr. and Mrs. John B. Jeffery,[39] and, on a later occasion, at the
Leland Hotel, at a supper given by Mr. Emery A. Storrs[40] to Mr.
Irving. Professor Swing was among the speakers on this occasion, and
during the evening pleasant allusion was made to the visit of Lord
Chief Justice Coleridge, and to English writers who had not confined
their attention solely to the shortcomings of Chicago. Irving, in
responding to the toast of his health, described his sensations on
entering Chicago: “I came warned against you; but knowing your history.
When I saw your great city, and felt how much you had done, and how
much that was broad and generous and courageous belonged to such
enterprise and ambition, my instinct told me that you would be with me
in my work; that you would, at least, respect it; and that if you liked
it no jealousies, no prejudices, would stand in the way of your saying
so.”
The Press Club[41] “received” Irving and Miss Terry and several
members of the Lyceum company. “Nothing could have been conceived or
carried out in a more frank and friendly spirit than the Press Club
reception,” said Irving, on returning to his hotel; “no pretence, no
affectation, a hearty crowd. They treated us as if we had known each
other all our lives, and I begin to feel as if they were old friends.
It is the absence of caste in America, I conclude, that gives a meeting
of this kind its real cordiality. Nobody is afraid of anybody else;
there is an absence of self-restraint, and, at the same time, of
self-consciousness. I liked them, too, for not apologizing for their
very unpretentious rooms; and I think they are right in adhering to
the principles on which the club is founded, that it shall be purely
a press club. Do you remember the evening at the journalists’ club in
Philadelphia? But that was a man’s night only. Very delightful too,
eh? I thought so. Indeed, the club life of America, from the humblest
to the highest, is characterized by a cordiality and freedom that is
glorious; I think so. No nonsense, no unnecessary formality; they give
you the best, and make you at home at once. So nice to be introduced
straightway, and be on terms with all the fellows! I find, by one
of the newspapers, that I am keeping a scrap-book,—they have seen
Houson’s handiwork, I imagine. I was just thinking that if one indulged
in that sort of thing, what a collection of club cards and _menus_ one
would have! There is not a city we have visited where we have not been
made free of all the clubs, from Boston to Chicago. The Boston clubs
are very fine, English-like in many respects. But there is nothing, I
suppose, more gorgeous than the Union League, at New York. I’ll tell
you what strikes me most about America,—the immensity of the work it
has done in regard to the material welfare of its people; in building
up a new civilization; providing for the comforts of the thousands
who crowd into its ports from the Old World; taking care of them and
governing them, giving them a share of their wealth, and welding the
incongruous mass into one great people. I don’t wonder that young men
who have only their honest hands and hopes as legacies from parents
come here to make homes and names, to found families, and lay up for
their old age. It is a wonderful country; the thought of it almost
inspires me with eloquence, and I think on many a night it has given me
a new energy, and a new love for my own work. I notice, by the papers,
that some English visitor has been writing in one of the English
periodicals what is called ‘a slashing criticism’ upon American habits
and customs, and making unfair comparisons between the life objects of
the men and women of this great New World and the older civilizations
of Europe. This sort of criticism can only be mere surface work; it
does not consider and weigh results; it does not count how great a
thing has been done in a short time; it does not see how marvellously
successful this people has been in making a law unto itself, a
civilization unto itself, and how it has not yet had time to rest and
tack on to its great, sweeping garments the fringes and ribbons and
jewels that belong to an age of rest, and luxury, and art. They are
but small critics, and they are not respectfully conscious of the
possibilities of the close union of England and America, who discuss
America in a petty way, and do not give her the credit she deserves for
all she has done in the cause of freedom and of humanity.”
He paced the room as he talked, and I applauded his peroration.
“And you say you cannot ‘orate,’ to use a local phrase, except about
acting.”
“It is an easy thing to make a speech in one’s own room, but a
different thing standing up before an audience, eh?”
“Anyhow,” I said, “we will make a point about that hap-hazard criticism
of irresponsible persons, who do not consider either the truth, or the
feelings of a nation, so long as they can put together a few smart
things for their own glorification. Nobody ever heard of the writer you
mention until he abused America; and some men mistake notoriety for
fame.”