FELICITY IN WIT 83 repartee; he was a capital story teller; he never uttered a witticism or told a story that was not exactly apposite to some immediate remark or occurrence; and, like Jefferson, he was comically apt in his droll comments on passing events. Once, in a town of the Far West, he chanced to be aroused by a disturbance in the night, caused by a sudden freshet. A torrent was pouring through the street, and Warren, as he stood, with other spectators at a hotel window, gazing on the pluvial tumult, heard a voice crying: "My mother! She's gone-she's gone!" "Well," he said, "she must have gone by water!" When Jefferson first went to Boston, acting Acres, in his freely adapted and condensed (and much improved) version of Sheridan's comedy, Warren attended the performance. "Did you see Jefferson in "The Rivals'?" an acquaintance afterward asked him. "Yes," he said, ""The Rivals'-with Sheridan more than twenty miles away!" Many pious persons believe that the statement "God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb" occurs in the Bible, whereas, in fact, it occurs in the writings of that amazingly clever literary artist, whimsical humorist, and perplexingly elusive character, Laurence Sterne. Miss Fisher was pious, and great was her consternation when, on an exceedingly cold night, the comedian, returning from the Museum after a performance there, entered his lodging with the remark: "I wish they would put a shorn lamb at the corner of Tremont and Park streets." Warren's customary homeward walk from the Museum was uphill through Park Street and thence downward to Bulfinch Place; and persons acquainted with Boston are well aware of the icy blast which, in wintry weather, often sweeps over the Common and the region called the Back Bay. Warren's cheerful temper and his spontaneous, habitual propensity to facetious play on words are, also, shown in all his letters, of which this is an indicative specimen. The poem to which it alludes is one called "The Voice of the Silence," which I delivered before The Society of the Army of the Potomac,-of which I am proud to be an honorary member,-at A FACETIOUS LETTER 35 the Academy of Music, Philadelphia, June 6, 1876. The article it mentions, called "Miss Dickinson on Thorns," is a critical one, written by me in "The New York Tribune," June 3, 1876, relative to the acting of Anna E. Dickinson (1842-19—), (1842-19-), which elicited remarks from an actor in her company, named Cowper: "Boston, Mass. [No. 2, Bulfinch Place], "My Dear Winter: "Many thanks for your favor of the 28th inst. The poem for the 'Army of the Potomac' is very beautiful, quite worthy of the author, and the reading of it was a great treat to me, as I had never before seen a copy. 'Miss Dickinson on Thorns' I read, on the morning of its publication, at the breakfast table, at the Windsor; in his endeavor to refute it Cowper's Task was rather too much for him. "I was very sorry not to have seen you during my three days' stay in New York; but my trip was one at ten minutes' notice, on account of the illness of Miss Fisher's sister, and your address, like the Dutchman's anchor, was at home. It has since been entered in my pocket-book, so there's hope of better luck next time. "Next Wednesday sets me free for a vacation, and a trip to Geneva Lake, Wisconsin, where I have a lot of married nieces, whose husbands, my constructive nephews, are quite anxious to show me hospitalities. I shall take in the Centennial in my native city [Philadelphia] on my return hither, and en route hope to catch you at home. Not a line from Joe [Jefferson] lately. Tom Inglis, who has just returned from England, told me that he was putting in three weeks at Manchester. "We 'gathered [George] Honey' at No. 2, this morning-have only had a glimpse of his blooming visage he has been a bird in the passage' lately. Miss Fisher sends regards. "Believe me, "Yours truly, "W. WARREN." ANECDOTE AND DETAIL. Warren was scrupulously correct in the practice of his profession, but once in a while he could not resist the temptation to introduce a "gag." Thus, in the play of "The Drunkard," ANECDOTES 37 -a favorite in the old Museum days,-when he was on the scene with Middleton, and that reformed inebriate, mournfully moralizing, had exclaimed: "There is the old elm where I slipped and fell," Warren gravely remarked: "That must have been a slippery elm." He did not like the experience of growing old-and, indeed, with slight exception, age is querulous, selfish, and exacting. On hearing a certain wine extolled as excellent because very old, "I am glad," he said, "that age improves anything." Warren dreaded death and customarily avoided mention of it. He happened to be standing in front of King's Chapel, at the corner of Tremont and Court streets, when the imposing funeral train of Senator Henry Wilson was passing that point, and a lad, who knew him by sight, suddenly accosted him, saying: "It's great, ain't it? But, say, it ain't anything to what we'll do for you, Mr. Warren, when you die!" Warren told that incident to Jefferson, with lively disgust, and Jefferson, in whom the love of fun was irrepressible, told it to me, with lively delight. |