I remember some one saying to him after the
first night of "Ravenswood": "I don't fancy that your hopes will be
quite fulfilled about the play. I heard one or two on Saturday night--"
"Ah yes," said Henry very carelessly and gently, "but you see there were
so many _friends_ there that night who didn't pay--_friends_. One must
not expect too much from friends! The paying public will, I think,
decide favorably."
Henry never cared much for society, as the saying is--but as host in the
Beefsteak Room he thoroughly enjoyed himself, and every one who came to
his suppers seemed happy! Every conceivable type of person used to be
present--and there, if one had the _mind_[1] one could study the world
in little.
[Footnote 1: "Wordsworth says he could write like Shakespeare if he had
the _mind_. Obviously it is only the mind that is lacking."--_Charles
Lamb's Letters._]
One of the liveliest guests was Sir Francis Burnand--who entirely
contradicted the theory that professional comedians are always the most
gloomy of men in company.
A Sunday evening with the Burnand family at their home in The Bottoms
was a treat Henry Irving and I often looked forward to--a particularly
restful, lively evening. I think a big family--a "party" in itself--is
the only "party" I like.
Pages:
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494