The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1882-04-15
Artemus Wards Last Addresses to Brit
ish Audiences.

When Artemus arrived here in 1866,
he was dying man. | can see him now
as he came on the narrow platform in
front of his inferior panorama, and stole
a glance at the densely-packcd room and
then at his panorama. His tall, gaunt,
though slender figure; his curly, light
hair and large aquiline nose, which al
ways reminded me of a macaw; his thin
face flushed with consumption; his little
cough, which seemed to shake him to
pieces, and which he said was wearing
him out, :" at which we all laughed ire
sistibly, and then felt ashamed of our
selves, as well we might; but he himself
seemed to enjoy his cough. 1t was all
part of that old topsy turyy mind in
which everything appeared most natural
upside down! On first entering he would
seem profoundly unconscious that any
thing was expected of him, but after
looking at the audience, then at his own
clothes, and then alphabetically at his
panorama, he began to explain its mer-
its. The fact was that Artemus intended
having the finest scenes that could be
painted, but he gave that up on account
of the expense, and then determined to
get the worst as the next best thing for
his purpose. When anything very bad
came up he would pause and gaze adj
miringly at the canvas and then look
around little reproachfully at the
company. g This picture" he would
say, g is a great work of art; it is an oil
painting done in petroleum. 1t is by the
old masters. 1t was the last thing they did
before dying. They did this and then they
expired. l wish you were nearer to it
so you could see it better. wish | could
take it to your residences and let you
see it by daylight. Some of the great
est artists in London come here every
morning before daylight with lanterns
to look at it. They say they never saw
anything like it before, and they hope
they never shall again" Nothing could
be more impromptu, and therefore rivet-
ing, than his manner throughout, from
the moment he entered; he seemed to
be doing everything for the first time
and without the least preparation, and,
indeed, he was most unlike such
mechanical artists as Albert Smith, who
used to say he could 90 through his
Mont Blanc half asleep. Artemus
was always in reality at high pressure.
He was never twice the same, he poured
out new jokes with prodigal invention,'
and every gesture was original and arose
out of the immediate occasion. His
finger was ever on the pulse of the
people; they were always absolutely in
his power, whilst he tlattered them by
appearing to be entirely in theirs. He
would conciliate them, inspire pity,
claim indulgence, throw himself upon
their generosity, pretend to exert HIM
self to labor under a depressing sense
of failure, even make capital out of his
poor cough; and, then, he was so deeply
wounded if some very mild joke failed
to elicit applause that he would stop and
look reproachfully at the people until
they shook with new sense of the alb
surd situation. At other times, when
interrupted by laughter, he would look
around with surprise and say: Il did
not expect you to laugh at that. | can
throw off numbers of those little things,
but I assure you | can do better than
that. r.. Haweis, in Belgravia.
----s-s