Part 30

And am your angel who was your bride, And know, though dead, I have never died.’

“The charm of presence is an especial gift of Sir Edwin’s, and the entertainment was one of the most delightful ever enjoyed in this city.”

His readiness, his anxiety even, to vary and brighten his programme is shown in the following letter, which I received after I left Boston. It illustrates his conscientious spirit and sincere desire to meet all proper demands--a spirit which, like Sir Henry M. Stanley, he had to a marked degree:

* * * * *

“PARKER HOUSE, Boston, Nov. 10, 1891.

“MY DEAR MAJOR POND:

“I miss you very much indeed, but Mr. Angleman is all that can be desired in the way of obliging and active friendship, and we had a splendid time in the City Hall, Springfield (see _Republican_). To-morrow I go at 10:15 A.M. to Wellesley College, having just arranged this with one of the ladies; and at night, to Smith College.

“It is very difficult to devise a programme which does not shut out something too good to lose. You see I must not quite fall into being merely a reciter of songs and ballads! I am a serious and solid poet, and the people themselves like some of my graver writings. Still, I know you are right about these mixed audiences, that pieces too long waste time and strength; so I have greatly cut down such items. The poems that always take are:

“1. ‘He and She.’

“2. ‘Egyptian Slippers.’

“3. ‘Rajput Nurse.’

“And the little beautiful Nume from ‘Pearls of the Faith.’ I will write on the other side my programme for to-night, and that for Wellesley College.

“For your unbounded kindness and dear Mrs. Pond’s, my grateful thanks. I am too much a Bohemian, I fear, ever to settle down again.

“Yours always, “EDWIN ARNOLD.”

* * * * *

As will be seen from the letter that I have just quoted, Sir Edwin lectured in Springfield on the evening of November 9th. A Springfield reporter wrote this striking review:

“When he [the poet] speaks in his own proper person, in preface to his poems, directly addressing his audience, the Englishman is recognized in his intonations; but as soon as he begins to recite, he renders the English language in very beautiful modulation, with fitness to the characters who are introduced, and with rare dramatic expression. It is seldom that a reader like him is heard. The tricks of elocution are not his; he often hesitates and pauses for a moment to recall the phrase, either from memory or from his text, but he puts the life of his deepest feeling into the recital, and the hearer drinks in the meaning with unalloyed content. The fervor of his declamation in certain passages of the talk of Pontius Pilate was thrilling; a better reading of tragedy than he gave to the story of the Rajput Nurse could hardly be expected, and perhaps above these would be put the picture of ‘Shah Jehan,’ when he resists the temptation of the flesh through his faithfulness to Arjuna, for whom he built the Taj-Mahal.”

Before returning to New York, Arnold lectured with great success in Cambridgeport, Lowell, Hartford, New Haven, Utica, and Syracuse.

One of the most effective descriptions appeared in a Syracuse daily, where the reporter said:

“The speaker uttered the more powerful passages with his head thrown back, his body erect, and his chest heaving. The book was held in the left hand, the right, and occasionally both, being used for gestures. When he spoke of sorrow, his voice was pathetic almost to tears; of joy, it thrilled with rapture; of power and victory, it rang like a clarion; and in poetic description, it was as when ‘the dewdrop slips into the shining sea.’”

I give these bits of evidence from time to time as proof of Stanley’s keenness of judgment, and in support of my own declaration that Sir Edwin Arnold was by far the best of author-readers that England has given for our delight. America has yet to produce his equal.

After returning to New York the Press Club of that city gave Sir Edwin a reception. Mr. Depew, a member of the club, in his spicy introduction, spoke of Sir Edwin as a fellow-journalist whom he was proud to welcome. Sir Edwin’s reply was one of the brightest speeches that he made in America, as those privileged to be present will always remember.

We were all much shocked when we learned of the death of W. J. Florence. Sir Edwin sent a wreath for his funeral, with the following words:

“Sans Adieu. EDWIN ARNOLD. “W. J. Florence, November 23, 1891.”

A new deal was made with Sir Edwin under which arrangement he was to continue one hundred nights, for which I was to pay him $20,000. He lectured in Albany, Rochester, Buffalo, Toronto, Detroit (twice), Grand Rapids, Pittsburg, Cleveland, Oberlin, Toledo, Cincinnati (twice), Louisville, St. Louis, and Chicago. Excellent reports came in from all along the line. The day of our arrival in Chicago was an eventful one. Representatives of the press thronged to see Sir Edwin all the morning at the Auditorium Hotel. He was in excellent condition. Although the weather was muddy, nasty, and foggy we visited the new _Herald_ building, declared by Chicagoans to be the finest printing-office in the world. Mr. Scott, president of the _Herald_ Co., introduced Sir Edwin to the compositors, and he made a little speech to them. Then a sumptuous lunch in Scott’s office, where Sir Edwin was introduced to the managing editors of each of the great Chicago daily papers. The party sat down to lunch at twelve. To everybody’s surprise it was six o’clock when they separated. In the evening a reception by the Chicago Press Club, where he made a handsome speech and read “Queen Arjamund and the Dagger.”

At his first public reading in Chicago--in Central Music Hall--the house was packed with a fine audience of Chicago’s best. President Harper of Chicago University presided. Sir Edwin was in excellent form and scored another success. The newspapers contained columns of favorable notices, and never was a visitor more heartily welcomed.

His whole Western tour was a series of triumphs. Milwaukee, Chicago (again), Evanston, Kansas City, St. Paul, Minneapolis, Janesville (Wis.), Rockford, Cedar Rapids, Des Moines, and Clinton, were all in the Western itinerary.

From Chicago I returned to New York. During the trip I received the following letter:

* * * * *

“MILWAUKEE, Dec. 17, 1891.

“MY DEAR MAJOR:

“Thanks, many and sincere, for your flying note, full of kindness, like everything you say and do. I am afraid if I let go my audiences from the fine and subtle spell of poetry, I might lose command of them, like the juggler who leaves off blowing his reed. But I will bear your valuable advice in mind, if again my voice feels at all in need of resting.

“I cannot thank you enough for the repeated kindness of your wish to keep me in America, and even under your own roof. I am touched to the heart by such generous friendship, which I heartily reciprocate; but, after this unwonted and difficult enterprise is concluded, let me fly away and find the repose and change for which I shall long with unspeakable desire. Perhaps after a period of quiet I shall feel even a strong wish to use again the experience acquired, and to do Australia with you, but my present feelings are concentrated upon getting through with this series in the very best manner I can, for your cause and my own, and then resting.

“My very warmest regards to dear Mrs. Pond. I wish I could make millions of dollars for her and you.

“Ever most sincerely yours, “EDWIN ARNOLD.”

* * * * *

I had arranged five matinees for Sir Edwin at Daly’s Theatre. He lectured here twice in the morning and in Philadelphia in the evenings of the same days. He was to lecture in Trenton on the following evening, but I was obliged to cancel this engagement because of his illness. This was the beginning of the end, as my diary shows. He was booked for Newark, Baltimore, Washington, Middletown, New York (four times), Brooklyn, Portland, Providence, Lakewood, Montclair, Orange, and Worcester. Owing to the superior knowledge of a learned doctor, he was obliged to be ill.

It came about in this way: Sir Edwin was sick with grippe at the Everett House, when his friend Andrew Carnegie called on him. The meeting was a very cordial one, as Sir Edwin declared that he was under everlasting obligations to Mr. Carnegie for the kindness he had shown to his son when on a visit to America. Mr. Carnegie insisted on Sir Edwin’s seeing his doctor, a learned young Scotch physician, with titles too numerous to mention. He was the man who could tone him up. Without waiting for Arnold to acquiesce, Carnegie sent him right around. The young physician told Sir Edwin that he was a sick man, that he had better have a nurse, that he must not appear on the platform the next day, and that he must cancel all his engagements. There was nothing for Sir Edwin to do but yield to whatever the physician prescribed, as his friend Mr. Carnegie had sent him. So the next day we were obliged to return about $1,800 at the box office at Daly’s Theatre to a disappointed public, telling them that undoubtedly Sir Edwin would be able to keep his next two engagements; but that there was no chance for those particular ticket holders to hear him, as the seats for the remaining readings had been sold out.

A few days later Sir Edwin finally told me that he could not go any further, and I consented to cancel our agreement if he would give me six more readings in New York after the present course. I then arranged for this supplemental course at Daly’s Theatre. On the day before the readings were to be resumed, Sir Edwin seemed in good spirits, but his doctor forbade his reading the next day, and I was obliged to cancel all of his new dates. It made a difference of over $3,000 to me.

I could not win over the doctor. He worried Sir Edwin very badly. The latter said to me, “Oh, Major, if I don’t get out of this country soon I will never be able to go at all.” I know he frightened me too. If I had been in Sir Edwin’s place I should have thought myself about to die. He told me that Sir Edwin was in exactly the same condition as a man who was just convalescing from a run of typhoid fever.

When I gave back the money at Daly’s to a great crowd of New York’s best people, everybody expressed sympathy and regret that Sir Edwin was ill. I never witnessed a more pathetic scene around a box office, and I felt that the poet had a hold on New Yorkers that would surely last.

A day or two later, while calling on Sir Edwin, Mr. Carnegie came in, and when he congratulated the poet on his good fortune in having sent him a physician who unquestionably saved his life, Sir Edwin gave me a side wink and a smile at Mr. Carnegie’s absurdities. He then told Mr. Carnegie that he had decided to go to Japan, and should leave as soon as possible. He did not care to stay longer in America. He thought that an ocean voyage would cure him of the grippe. Mr. Carnegie expostulated with him, but Sir Edwin said his mind was made up. The next day he left the Everett House to visit Mr. Andrew Carnegie, during the remainder of his stay. I called on him there and found him not in the best of spirits. He was lonesome and homesick. He would have been better off to have kept on with his readings, he said.

On February 5th Sir Edwin gave the first of what promised to be a final series of four morning readings at Daly’s Theatre. The house was packed. Immediately after the reading the box-office was besieged, and I saw at once that there would be a fine business. The next three readings were already announced, but once more the doctor stepped in, and dates were cancelled. The Saturday before Sir Edwin was to sail, I called on him at Mr. Carnegie’s house. He said to me:

“Major Pond, I should like to tell the American people how much I think of them if you will give me a chance, but you have only from now until next Monday to do it in. Take all the receipts; I want nothing but the audience.”

“All right,” I said. “Please send me a letter to that effect.”

It was only a few minutes after returning to my office that I received a letter authorizing me to go ahead and book the reading for the Monday morning following. The letter was as follows:

* * * * *

“5 WEST 51ST STREET, NEW YORK, Feb. 8, 1892.

“MY DEAR MAJOR POND:

“If it were possible to arrange for one more of my public readings in New York, I should regard the opportunity as a pleasure and a privilege. I am reluctant to quit, even for a time, the land where I have met so many and such generous and enlightened audiences, without some sign of the delight with which I should have continued to meet them--some occasion permitting me to acknowledge their good will toward me, interrupted only by my illness. It may be, moreover, that there are those who would like to hear me for the first time, albeit in a farewell reading, and briefly if it can be compassed--you may count, before I leave New York, on the willing acceptance of

“Yours always most sincerely, “EDWIN ARNOLD.”

* * * * *

I had only Saturday night, Sunday, and Monday morning to advertise. The reading came off in Daly’s Theatre, Monday morning, February 15th, at eleven o’clock. It was Sir Edwin’s last appearance in New York, and the house was filled to its capacity. The audience was of the best, appreciative of all the poet’s efforts, and in touch with every shade of expression. He read the “Discourse of Buddha,” and, as a sequel, the conversation between Mary Magdalen and the Magi, from “The Light of the World.” “The Egyptian Slippers” was given from the manuscript copy. “The Renegade Lovers” was another of the poems not yet in print. The exquisite ballad of “He and She,” one of the favorites, was also given. Before the programme closed he gratified his audience by a brief address, which was not merely eloquent in words, but most effective by the earnestness of his delivery.

“I ask your permission, before I conclude this last of my readings with some verses from the Persian of Saadi, which explains and justifies my books, to offer first to you, and next, through you, to those sixty-five audiences which I have had the honor to address in various cities of the United States, my most respectful and heartfelt thanks for the grace and kindness of the reception which they have given me. I do not presume to praise--what is far above my praise--the large-minded enlightenment, the glad interest in great thought which I have found everywhere existing and active in this country, evidenced to me in many clear and remarkable ways. But I will dare say that here, if anywhere in the world, the poet whose credentials are honest good-will toward his kind and firm faith in their glorious destiny, may fearlessly speak what is in his heart and brain, and be sure of an attention as gentle and as generous as it is cultivated.

“I came to America her friend; I go away her champion, her servant, her lover. I have the deepest conviction that the future history of the human race depends for its happy development upon that firm and eternal friendship of the great Republic and of the British Empire which is at once so necessary and so natural. Resolve on your side of the Atlantic, along with us who know you on the other, to allow no ignorance, no impatience, no foolish transient passion to share that amity. The peace and progress of the earth are founded upon it, and those who would destroy it are guilty of high treason against humanity. Accept, I pray you, and allow me to express to others through this large and representative assemblage, the sincere gratitude I feel for the unbroken goodness, the incomparable patience, the quick appreciation, and the ‘sweet reasonableness’ which I have met with universally among American audiences.”

The reading closed with the lines from Saadi, entitled, “In Many Lands.” The enthusiasm was tremendous. People crowded around the stage to say good-by, and Sir Edwin was not able himself to carry away a tithe of the flowers that were heaped upon him.

The receipts were $1,851. I told Sir Edwin that there was $1,000 clear profit from the lecture, and I thought he was entitled to it. “Not a penny, Major Pond. You have been disappointed and obliged to return many hundreds of dollars to a disappointed public. I only wish it were $5,000 for you instead of one.”

That evening he spent with us, appearing well and in excellent spirits. The next day he left for San Francisco, by way of New Orleans. He spent several days in California, at the Lick Observatory, in San José and in San Francisco, and then sailed for Japan, where he remained a number of months. He returned homeward in September through the United States, accompanied by Miss Arnold, his daughter, and the Japanese lady who is now his devoted wife.

While in New York on this homeward trip he read in my office to a party of friends, principally connected with the New York newspapers, the greater part of a Japanese tragedy which he had written while in the Island Empire. It was entitled “Adzuma; or, the Japanese Wife.” Sir Edwin gave permission to publish but one passage, and that because it had previously been published in a Japanese newspaper. He dined at our house that evening, and the following day sailed for England. Friendly letters have passed between us at short intervals ever since. His letters to me are among my literary treasures.

In 1897 Mrs. Pond and I visited England to attend the Queen’s Jubilee. On our arrival in Glasgow, June 9th, I found a telegram from Sir Edwin Arnold, saying:

* * * * *

“Have good places for you and Mrs. Pond to see procession. Let me know when you will be in London.”

* * * * *

I wrote him the time we expected to arrive, and when we reached London I found another telegram reading as follows:

* * * * *

“You and Mrs. Pond breakfast with me at 225 Cromwell Road at twelve to-morrow.

EDWIN ARNOLD.”

* * * * *

My diary contains the following entry:

* * * * *

“LONDON, Saturday, June 19, 1897.

“Breakfasted with Sir Edwin Arnold at 225 Cromwell Road at twelve, and a delightful visit it was. Sir Edwin welcomed us in his characteristic genial manner, which made us feel that the entire establishment was ours. His son, a young physician, with his wife, was there, also the Japanese lady whom we met at his house in 1891, and who is now the head of his household. She has mastered our language and is very refined and intelligent. Her name is Antomesan.

“Sir Edwin presented me with a copy of his new book, ‘Wandering Words,’ and a guinea cigar. He also gave me two tickets on the first row of the Grand Stand in the tribune of St. Paul’s Cathedral, for the grand parade. They were hundred-guinea tickets.

“These seats were within fifty feet of where Her Majesty’s carriage stopped during the services. I could look down on the bishops, and after the impressive service I met our Bishop Potter.

“‘How came you in here?’ he exclaimed. ‘Are you one of the nobility?’

“I think I was the only untitled man in that assemblage of people.”

* * * * *

In the light of the intimate and most friendly relations that have existed between us, and my high appreciation of the friendship with which Sir Edwin Arnold honored me, I shall perhaps be pardoned for quoting a few of the letters which I have received from him, some being in reply to my efforts to induce him to return to the United States and others being more purely personal in character. They are of especial value, perhaps, in view of the fact that the poet and editor is now and has been for nearly three years past confined to his residence. Under the dates given he has some pleasant things to say in the following letters:

* * * * *

“225 CROMWELL MANSIONS, KENSINGTON, S.W., “July 11, 1894.

“MY EVER DEAR MAJOR:

“I am ashamed when I compare the date of your last kind letter with that of my reply. But one is borne in such a whirl of politics and society in this London season that much may be forgiven. I was rejoiced to hear of the well-being of dear Mrs. Pond, the boy, and yourself; and by no means surprised that you had developed as a great success upon the platform. Who, indeed, ought to understand that difficult business better than you, under the shadow of whose skill and kindness we have all graduated? I have no doubt you would succeed over here.

“As for Dean Hole, I have the highest opinion of him; and I believe he will delight his audiences. He is a genial Christian gentleman, whose piety is bright with gay humor and the love of nature--the best judge of roses in the world, and in every way a fine specimen of the English Dean.

“What a state you are in with your strikes and strikers!

“Give very kindest messages to Mrs. Pond and ‘Bim,’ and ever believe me,

“Yours most sincerely, “EDWIN ARNOLD.”

* * * * *

By his own permission, as with Henry M. Stanley, I was often privileged to ask questions relative to English gentlemen to whom attention was directed as available for our platform service. Here is a letter wherein a valuable suggestion was made, which could not be followed, however, in time:

* * * * *

“GRAND HOTEL, PARIS, Oct. 8, 1895.

“MY EVER DEAR MAJOR POND:

“In reply to your very kind letter from Paris--having just started for a little holiday trip to Spain, after a rather fatiguing spell of work in politics and literature. It delights me to hear that you and Mrs. Pond and the little one are all well. I note that you have been having a good time with Mark Twain, for whose misfortunes we have all--on this side--felt most deeply. I should think you could easily get Du Maurier, unless ‘Trilby’ has made him too rich. As for me, dear Major, it would be glorious to serve under your victorious flag again, but I must not encourage myself or you to expect that. However, I shall be back in England before Christmas and will write to you again. I thank you with all my heart for your friendly thoughts of me. Be sure they are cordially returned, and ever believe me,

“Sincerely and affectionately yours, “EDWIN ARNOLD.”

* * * * *

Again he declines my request for another tour, and in doing so gives a glimpse of his own busy hours:

* * * * *

“225 CROMWELL MANSIONS, KENSINGTON, S.W., “April 30, 1896.

“MY DEAR MAJOR:

“I have just returned from a month’s holiday in the Canary Islands. Hence the sad delay in replying to your kind and welcome letter of (alas!!) the 20th of March. It delighted me by its news that Mrs. Pond, and the ‘laddie,’ and yourself, were all well. So am I, but tremendously busy with politics, and also with preparations for a journey to Russia, whither I go to see the Tsar crowned.

“I am sorry to say that I don’t think Mr. Ingersoll would ‘catch on’ over here. I know and admire his great abilities and eloquence, but our public is religious, orthodox, and conservative--so far as the ‘paying’ part of it goes. Your own lectures would be far more attractive.

“For my humble self, I wish I could see my way to once more run round with you. At present I dream of being in India all next winter about some temple business and have declined some very honorable presidentships and appointments with that view. All the same, most heartily do I thank you for your kind proof of friendly opinion and confidence.

“Love to your home circle.

“Sincerely your very attached friend, “EDWIN ARNOLD.”

* * * * *

From the office of the _Daily Telegraph_, under date of August 4, 1896, this letter of introduction came to me:

* * * * *

“MY DEAR MAJOR POND: