Henry Irving is a man of simple, but regular, habits. He has gained
the hearts of everybody in the Bellevue, from the proprietor to the
bell-boy, by his courteous demeanor and his desire to give as little
trouble as possible. He rises at nine o’clock, and drinks a cup of
coffee with milk. Breakfast is served in his private sitting-room at
ten o’clock, consisting of tea, boiled eggs, and some other simple
dish. The eggs he cooks himself in a little spirit-lamp arrangement
of his own. He eats the meal alone, and glances at his mail while
at table. The budget of correspondence is usually large, and
includes letters from all over the world. After breakfast one or two
secretaries pay their respects to him, and receive his instructions
in regard to the replies to the missives. The daily papers are then
carefully read, and any visitors who call are received.
Between twelve and one he leaves the hotel, generally in a carriage,
and always accompanied by a secretary. The theatre is the first
destination. In everything concerning the stage arrangements, indeed,
even the most minute details, Mr. Irving is consulted. A skye-terrier
is also a persistent companion of the English actor, and follows
wherever he goes.
Mr. Irving dines at 3.30. A course-dinner is served,—oysters, soup,
fish, a cutlet, and a bird. Canvas-back duck has a preference among
the feathery food. He dines by himself, does his own carving, and
dismisses the servants as soon as the dishes are placed in front of
him. From the dinner hour until he goes to the theatre he is denied to
everybody. No matter whose card arrives for him there is no passport
for the pasteboard through the portals of the actor’s apartments. The
interval after dinner is passed in study and meditation. Mr. Irving
is, above all, a student, and every gesture and motion he makes on
the stage have been previously considered, and a reason found for the
change of position or features.
After the theatre Mr. Irving throws off the restraint of the day,
and sups at his ease with some of his friends. A secretary or two
are included in the party. Supper lasts sometimes until two or three
in the morning. Last Sunday, when Attorney-General Brewster was Mr.
Irving’s guest, it was three A.M., before the party exchanged adieux.
Among the visitors who have called on Mr. Irving, Viscount Bury,
James McHenry, and General Collis were among the favored ones who
were admitted to audience. Scores of invitations for every kind of
entertainment have overwhelmed him, keeping three or four of his
secretaries busy with writing his expression of regrets.
When Irving was at Philadelphia he had a young English friend visiting
him. The waiter (who was evidently in the confidence of the local
reporter, or might have been the reporter himself masquerading as a
waiter) pressed him in as a secretary. Abbey’s manager, Mr. Palser, Mr.
Stoker, Mr. Loveday, and another friend, a resident of Philadelphia,
were all promoted to the secretarial office. There is a sublime touch
of unconscious satire in this staff of secretaries, engaged upon
the work of answering Irving’s letters, which will be particularly
appreciated in London, where that one special sin of his—neglecting
to answer letters—is even commented upon in learned reviews. The
after-dinner “study and meditations” is “Jeames’s” view of the
siesta, which is a needful incident of every actor’s day. The data
of the sketch being fairly correct, the _bona fides_ of it, from the
reporter’s point of view, make it interesting as well as characteristic
of the “personal” character of some of the clever news journals of the
day.