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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f1da92c --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #64575 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/64575) diff --git a/old/64575-0.txt b/old/64575-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1dac620..0000000 --- a/old/64575-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6754 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Sir Henry Irving--A record of over Twenty -Years at the Lyceum, by Percy Hetherington Fitzgerald - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Sir Henry Irving--A record of over Twenty Years at the Lyceum - -Author: Percy Hetherington Fitzgerald - -Release Date: February 16, 2021 [eBook #64575] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: MFR and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIR HENRY IRVING--A RECORD OF OVER -TWENTY YEARS AT THE LYCEUM *** - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - SIR HENRY IRVING - - A RECORD OF OVER TWENTY YEARS - AT THE LYCEUM - - BY - PERCY FITZGERALD, M.A. - AUTHOR OF - “THE LIFE OF GARRICK,” “THE KEMBLES,” “ART OF THE STAGE,” ETC. - - “As in a theatre the eyes of men, - After a well-grac’d actor leaves the stage, - Are idly bent on him that enters next.” - - _A NEW EDITION, REVISED - WITH AN ADDITIONAL CHAPTER_ - - LONDON - CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY - 1895 - - - - -PREFACE. - - -One attraction in the life of an actor who has fought his way, and -triumphed over many difficulties, in his struggles to eminence, is -found in the spirit of adventure which nearly always marks his course. -Such a story must be always gratifying and encouraging to read; -and we follow it now with sympathy, now with admiration. Nor is it -without gratification for the actor himself, who must look back with -complacency to troubles surmounted, and to habits of patience and -discipline acquired. In this severe and trying school he may acquire -the practical virtues of resignation, courage, perseverance, and the -art of confronting difficulties. Even at the present moment, when the -stage is presumed to be more flourishing than at any former period, the -element of precariousness is more present than ever. Everything seems a -lottery—theatres, pieces, actors. A theatre has gained a high reputation -with one or two successful pieces: of a sudden the newest play fails—or -“falls,” as the French have it—to be succeeded by another, and yet -another: each failing or “falling,” and seeming to prove that, if nothing -succeeds like success, nothing fails like failure. - -There is a spectacle often witnessed in the manufacturing counties, -when we may be standing waiting in one of the great stations, which -leaves a melancholy impression. A huge theatrical train containing -one of the travelling companies comes up and thunders through. Here is -the “Pullman Car,” in which the performers are seen playing cards, or -chatting, or lunching. They have their pets with them—parrots, dogs, etc. -It suggests luxury and prosperity. But this ease is dearly purchased, -for we know that the performer has bound himself in a sort of slavery, -and has consented to forego all the legitimate methods of learning his -profession. He belongs to some peripatetic company, a “travelling” -one, or to one of the innumerable bands who take round a single play, -for years, it may be; and in it he must play his single character over -and over again. Hence, he must learn—nay, is compelled to play—every -character in the same fashion, for he knows no other method. His wage -is modest, but constant; but he can never rise higher, and if he lose -his place it will be difficult for him to find another. It will be -interesting to see what a contrast this system offers to the course of -our cultured actors, who have endured the iron training and discipline of -the old school; and in this view we shall follow the adventurous career -of the popular Henry Irving, admittedly the foremost of our performers. -In his instance we shall see how the struggle, so manfully sustained, -became an invariable _discipline_, slowly forming the character which has -made him an interesting figure on which the eyes of his countrymen rest -with pleasure: and developing, as I have said, the heroic qualities of -patience, resolution, and perseverance. - -At the same time, I do not profess to set forth in these pages what -is called “a biography” of the actor. But this seems a fitting moment -for presenting a review of his artistic, laborious work at the Lyceum -Theatre, during a period of over twenty years. Having known the actor -from the very commencement of his career; having seen him in all -his characters; having written contemporaneous criticisms of these -performances—I may be thought to be at least fairly qualified for -undertaking such a task. I possess, moreover, a vast collection of what -may be called _pièces justificatifs_, which includes almost everything -that has been written of him. It will be seen that the tone adopted is -an independent one, and I have freely and fairly discussed Sir Henry -Irving’s merits, both real and imputed. Where praise is undiscriminating, -there is no praise. I have also dealt with many interesting “open -questions,” as they may be called, connected with theatrical management -and the “art of the stage.” I may add that in this new edition I have -added many particulars which will be found interesting, and have brought -the story down to the present moment. - - ATHENÆUM CLUB, - _July, 1895_. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - - CHAPTER I. - - SCHOOL-DAYS—EARLY TASTE FOR THE STAGE—FIRST APPEARANCE - (1838-1856) 1 - - CHAPTER II. - - EDINBURGH AND THE SCOTTISH THEATRES (1857-1859) 6 - - CHAPTER III. - - THE ST. JAMES’S THEATRE—‘HUNTED DOWN’—THE NEW VAUDEVILLE - THEATRE—‘THE TWO ROSES’ (1866) 23 - - CHAPTER IV. - - ‘THE BELLS’—WILLS’S ‘CHARLES I.’ (1871) 31 - - CHAPTER V. - - ‘HAMLET’—‘OTHELLO’—‘MACBETH’—DEATH OF ‘THE COLONEL’—‘QUEEN - MARY’ (1874) 38 - - CHAPTER VI. - - THE NEW MANAGER OF THE LYCEUM—MISS TERRY—HIS SYSTEM AND - ASSISTANTS (1878) 50 - - CHAPTER VII. - - ‘THE MERCHANT OF VENICE’ (1879) 64 - - CHAPTER VIII. - - ‘THE CORSICAN BROTHERS’ AND ‘THE CUP’ (1880) 69 - - CHAPTER IX. - - ‘OTHELLO’ AND ‘THE TWO ROSES’ REVIVED (1881) 76 - - CHAPTER X. - - ‘ROMEO AND JULIET’—THE BANQUET (1882) 85 - - CHAPTER XI. - - ‘MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING’—AMERICAN VISIT ARRANGED (1882) 88 - - CHAPTER XII. - - ‘TWELFTH NIGHT’—‘THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD’—OXFORD HONOURS (1884) 96 - - CHAPTER XIII. - - ‘FAUST’—‘WERNER’—‘MACAIRE’—THE ACTOR’S SOCIAL GIFTS (1887) 111 - - CHAPTER XIV. - - ‘MACBETH’—‘THE DEAD HEART’—‘RAVENSWOOD’ (1888) 119 - - CHAPTER XV. - - ‘KING LEAR’—‘BECKET’ (1892) 131 - - CHAPTER XVI. - - ‘KING ARTHUR’—CORPORAL BREWSTER—HONOURS (1893) 138 - - CHAPTER XVII. - - L’ENVOI 143 - - - - -SIR HENRY IRVING - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -1838-1856. - -SCHOOL-DAYS—EARLY TASTE FOR THE STAGE—FIRST APPEARANCE. - - -Henry Irving was born at Keinton, near Glastonbury, in Somersetshire, -on February 6, 1838. His real name was John Henry Brodribb. “The -last place God made” has been the description given of this little -town—Keinton-Mandeville—which lies near Glastonbury. The house in which -the future actor was born is still pointed out—a small two-storied -dwelling, of a poorish sort. - -Henry Irving’s mother was Sarah Behenna, a woman of strong, marked -character, who early took the child into Cornwall to her sister -Penberthy. Thus was he among the miners and mining captains in a district -“stern and wild,” where lessons of dogged toil and perseverance were to -be learned. The earliest books he read were his Bible, some old English -ballads, and “Don Quixote,” a character which he had long had a fancy -for performing. In an intimate _causerie_ with his and my friend Joseph -Hatton, he was induced to stray back to these early days of childhood, -when he called up some striking scenes of those old mining associations. -This aunt Penberthy was a resolute, striking woman, firm and even grim of -purpose, and the scenes in which she figured have a strong flavour, as -Mr. Hatton suggests, of Currer Bell’s stories. - -He was early sent to a school then directed by Dr. Pinches, in George -Yard, Lombard Street, close by the George and Vulture, which still -happily stands, and where Mr. Pickwick always put up when he was in -town. At this academy, on some exhibition day, he proposed to recite a -rather gruesome piece called “The Uncle,” to which his preceptor strongly -objected, when he substituted the more orthodox “Defence of Hamilton -Rowan,” by Curran. - -More than thirty years later, when the boy had become famous, and was -giving a benefit at his own theatre to a veteran player—Mr. Creswick—the -latter, coming before the curtain, related to the audience this little -anecdote. “I was once,” he said, “invited to hear some schoolboys recite -speeches previous to their breaking up for the holidays. The schoolmaster -was an old friend of mine, whom I very much respected. The room was -filled from wall to wall with the parents and friends of the pupils. I -was not much entertained with the first part: I must confess that I was -a little bored; but suddenly there came out a lad who at once struck me -as being rather uncommon, and he riveted my attention. The performance, -I think, was a scene from ‘Ion,’ in which he played Adrastus. I well saw -that he left his schoolfellows a long way behind. That schoolboy was -Master Henry Irving. Seeing that he had dramatic aptitude, I gave him -a word of encouragement, perhaps the first he had ever received, and -certainly the first he had received from one in the dramatic profession, -to which he is now a distinguished honour.” The late Solicitor-General, -Sir Edward Clarke, who was sent to the school after Irving left it, -long after made humorous complaint at a Theatrical Fund dinner that, on -exhibiting his own powers at the same school, he used to be regularly -told, “Very good—very fair; but you should have heard Irving do it.” - -On leaving the school, it was determined that the future actor should -adopt a commercial career, and he was placed in the offices of Messrs. -Thacker, “Indian merchants in Newgate Street.” He was then about -fourteen, and remained in the house four years. - -But his eyes were even now straying from his desk to the stage. He was -constantly reading plays and poetry, and seeking opportunity for practice -in the art in which he felt he was destined so to excel. - -At this time, about 1853, the late Mr. Phelps’ intelligent efforts, and -the admirable style in which he presented classical dramas, excited -abundant interest and even enthusiasm among young men. Many now look back -with pleasure to their pilgrimages to the far-off Sadler’s Wells Theatre, -where such an intellectual entertainment was provided and sustained with -admirable taste for many seasons. What was called “The Elocution Class” -was one of the results. It was directed by Mr. Henry Thomas with much -intelligence; his system was to encourage his pupils to recite pieces -of their own selection, on which the criticisms of the listeners were -freely given and invited. “On one evening,” says one of Irving’s old -class-fellows, “a youth presented himself as a new member. He was rather -tall for his age, dressed in a black suit, with what is called a round -jacket, and a deep white linen collar turned over it. His face was very -handsome, with a mass of black hair, and eyes bright and flashing with -intelligence. He was called on for his first recitation, and fairly -electrified the audience with an unusual display of elocutionary and -dramatic intensity.” The new member was Henry Irving. By-and-by the -elocution class was moved to the Sussex Hall, in Leadenhall Street, when -something more ambitious was attempted in the shape of regular dramatic -performances. The pieces were chiefly farces, such as ‘Boots at the -Swan,’ or ‘Little Toddlekins,’ though more serious plays were performed. -It was remarked that the young performer was invariably perfect in his -“words.” In spite of his youth he gave great effect to such characters as -Wilford in ‘The Iron Chest,’ and others of a melodramatic cast. A still -more ambitious effort was Tobin’s ‘Honeymoon,’ given at the little Soho -Theatre with full accompaniments of scenery, dresses, and decoration; and -here the young aspirant won great applause. - -It was to be expected that this success and these associations should -more and more encourage him in his desire of adopting a profession to -which he felt irresistibly drawn. He was, of course, a visitor to the -theatres, and still recalls the extraordinary impression left upon him -by Mr. Phelps’ performances. In everyone’s experience is found one of -these “epoch-making” incidents, which have an influence we are often -scarcely conscious of; and every thinking person knows the value of such -“turning-points” in music or literature. The young man’s taste was no -caprice, or stage-struck fancy; he tried his powers deliberately; and -before going to see a play would exercise himself in regular study of its -parts, attempting to lay out the action, business, etc., according to -his ideas. Many years later in America, he said that when he was a youth -he never went to a theatre except to see a Shakespearian play—except, in -fact, for instruction. - -At Sadler’s Wells there was a painstaking actor called Hoskins, who was -attracted by the young fellow’s enthusiasm and conscientious spirit, and -who agreed to give him a few lessons in his art. These were fixed for -eight o’clock in the morning, so as not to interfere with commercial -business. Hoskins introduced him to Phelps, who listened to his efforts -with some of that gnarled impassibility which was characteristic of him; -then, in his blunt, good-natured way, gave him this advice: “Young man, -have nothing to do with the stage; _it is a bad profession_!” - -Such, indeed, is the kindest counsel that could be given to nine-tenths -of the postulants of our time. Their wish is to “go on the stage”—a -different thing from the wish to become an actor. The manager had -nothing before him to show that there were here present the necessary -gifts of perseverance, study, and intelligence. Struck, however, by his -earnestness, he proposed to give him an engagement of a very trifling -kind, which the young man, after deliberation, declined, on the ground -that it would not afford him opportunities of thoroughly learning his -profession. The good-natured Hoskins, who was himself leaving the theatre -to go to Australia, gave him a letter to a manager, with these words: -“You will go on the stage; when you want an engagement present that -letter, and you will obtain one.” He, indeed, tried to induce him to join -him on his tours, but the offer was declined. - -His mother, however, could not reconcile herself to his taking so -serious a step as “going on the stage.” “I used frequently,” writes his -companion at the elocution class, “to visit at her house to rehearse -the scenes in which John and I were to act together. I remember her as -being rather tall, somewhat stately, and very gentle. On one occasion she -begged me very earnestly to dissuade him from thinking of the stage as a -profession; and having read much of the vicissitudes of actors’ lives, -their hardships, and the precariousness of their work, I did my best to -impress this view upon him.” But it is ever idle thus striving to hinder -a child’s purpose when it has been deliberately adopted. - -Having come to this resolution, he applied earnestly to the task of -preparing himself for his profession. He learned a vast number of -characters; studied, and practised; even took lessons in fencing, -attending twice a week at a school-of-arms in Chancery Lane. This -accomplishment, often thought trifling, was once an important branch of -an actor’s education; it supplies an elegance of movement and bearing. - -“The die being now cast,” according to the accepted expression, John -Brodribb, who had now become Henry Irving, bade adieu to his desk, and -bethinking him of the Hoskins letter, applied to Mr. Davis, a country -manager, who had just completed the building of a new theatre at -Sunderland. With a slender stock of money he set off for that town. By -an odd coincidence the name of the new house was the Lyceum. The play -appointed was ‘Richelieu,’ and the opening night was fixed for September -29, 1856. The young actor was cast for the part of the Duke of Orleans, -and had to speak the opening words of the piece. - -Mr. Alfred Davis, a well-known provincial actor, and son of the northern -manager, used often to recall the circumstances attending Irving’s “first -appearance on any stage.” “The new theatre,” he says, “was opened in -September, 1856, and on the 29th of that month we started. For months -previously a small army of scenic artists had been at work. Carpenters, -property-makers, and, of course, _costumiers_, had been working night and -day, and everything was, as far as could be foreseen, ready and perfect. -Among the names of a carefully-selected _corps dramatique_ were those of -our old friend Sam Johnson (now of the Lyceum Theatre, London); George -Orvell (real name, Frederick Kempster); Miss Ely Loveday (sister of H. -J. Loveday, the present genial and much-respected stage-manager of the -Lyceum), afterwards married to Mr. Kempster; and a youthful novice, just -eighteen, called Henry Irving. Making his first appearance, he spoke the -first word in the first piece (played for the first time in the town, I -believe), on the first or opening night of the new theatre. The words -of the speech itself, ‘_Here’s to our enterprise!_’ had in them almost -a prophetic tone of aspiration and success. So busy was I in front and -behind the scenes, that I was barely able to reach my place on the stage -in time for the rising of the curtain. I kept my back to the audience -till my cue to speak was given, all the while buttoning up, tying, and -finishing my dressing generally, so that scant attention would be given -to others. But even under these circumstances I was compelled to notice, -and with perfect appreciation, the great and most minute care which had -been bestowed by our aspirant on the completion of his costume. In those -days managers provided the mere dress. Accessories, or ‘properties’ as -they were called, were found by every actor. Henry Irving was, from his -splendid white hat and feathers to the tips of his shoes, a perfect -picture; and, no doubt, had borrowed his authority from some historical -picture of the Louis XIII. period.” - -“The impersonation,” as the neophyte related it long afterwards, “was -not a success. I was nervous, and suffered from stage fright. My second -appearance as Cleomenes in ‘A Winter’s Tale’ was even more disheartening, -as in Act V. I entirely forgot my lines, and abruptly quitted the scene, -putting out all the other actors. My manager, however, put down my -failure to right causes, and instead of dispensing with my services, gave -me some strong and practical advice.” - -All which is dramatic enough, and gives us a glimpse of the good old -provincial stage life. That touch of encouragement instead of dismissal -is significant of the fair, honest system which then obtained in this -useful training school. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -1857-1859. - -EDINBURGH AND THE SCOTTISH THEATRES. - - -At the Sunderland Theatre he remained only four months, and though the -manager pressed him to stay with him, the young actor felt that here -he had not the opportunities he desired. He accordingly accepted an -engagement at the Edinburgh Theatre, which began on February 9, 1857. - -Among the faces that used to be familiar at any “first night” at the -Lyceum were those of Mr. Robert Wyndham and his wife. There is something -romantic in the thought that these guests of the London manager and -actor in the height of his success and prosperity should have been the -early patrons of the unfriended provincial player. Mr. Wyndham was one -of the successors of that sagacious Murray to whom the Edinburgh stage -owes so much that is respectable. Here our actor remained for two years -and a half, enjoying the benefits of that admirable, useful discipline, -by which alone a knowledge of acting is to be acquired—viz., a varied -practice in a vast round of characters. This experience, though acquired -in a hurried and perfunctory fashion, is of enormous value in the way -of training. The player is thus introduced to every shade and form of -character, and can practise himself in all the methods of expression. -Now that provincial theatres are abolished, and have given place to the -“travelling companies,” the actor has few opportunities of learning his -business, and one result is a “thinness” or meagreness of interpretation. -In this Edinburgh school our actor performed “a round,” as it is called, -of no fewer than three hundred and fifty characters! This seems amazing. -It is, in truth, an extraordinary list, ranging over every sort of minor -character. - -He here also enjoyed opportunities of performing with famous “stars” who -came round the provinces, Miss Ellen Faucit, Mrs. Stirling, Vandenhoff, -Charles Dillon, Madame Celeste, “Ben” Webster, Robson, the facetious -Wright, the buoyant Charles Mathews, his life-long friend Toole, of -“incompressible humour,” and the American, Miss Cushman.[1] This, it is -clear, was a period of useful drudgery, but in it he found his account. -The company visited various Scotch towns, which the actor has described -pleasantly enough in what might seem an extract from one of the old -theatrical memoirs. He had always a vein of quiet humour, the more -agreeable because it is unpretending and without effort. - -It would be difficult to give an idea of the prodigious labour which this -earnest, resolute young man underwent while struggling to “learn his -profession” in the most thorough way. The iron discipline of the theatre -favoured his efforts, and its calls on the exertions of the actor -seem, nowadays, truly extraordinary. In another laborious profession, -the office of “deviling” for a counsel in full practice, which entails -painful gratuitous drudgery, is welcomed as a privilege by any young man -who wishes to rise. A few of these Edinburgh bills are now before me, -and present nights of singularly hard work for so young a man. We may -wonder, too, at the audience which could have stomach for so lengthy -a programme. Thus, one night, January 7, 1858, when the pantomime was -running, the performances began with the pantomime of ‘Little Bo-Peep,’ -in which we find our hero as Scruncher, “the Captain of the Wolves.” -After the pantomime came ‘The Middy Ashore,’ in which he was Tonnish, -“an exquisite,” concluding with ‘The Wandering Boys,’ in which we again -find him as Gregoire, “confidential servant to the Countess Croissey.” -We find him nearly always in three pieces of a night, and he seems, in -pieces of a light sort, to have been “cast” for the gentlemanly captain -of the “walking” sort; in more serious ones, for the melodramatic and -dignified characters. In ‘Nicholas Nickleby’ he was the hero; and also -Jack Wind, the boatswain, the chief mutineer, in ‘Robinson Crusoe.’ -In the course of this season Toole and Miss Louisa Keeley came to the -theatre, when Irving opened the night as the Marquis de Cevennes in ‘Plot -and Passion,’ next appearing in the “laughable farce” (and it _is_ one, -albeit old-fashioned), ‘The Loan of a Lover,’ in which he was Amersfort, -and finally playing Leeford, “Brownlow’s nephew,” in ‘Oliver Twist.’ - -The young man, full of hope and resolution, went cheerfully through -these labours, though “my name,” as he himself tells us, “continued -to occupy a useful but obscure position in the playbill, and nothing -occurred to suggest to the manager the propriety of doubling my salary, -though he took care to assure me I was ‘made to rise.’” This salary was -the modest one of thirty shillings a week, then the usual one for what -was termed “juvenile lead.” The old classification, “walking lady,” -“singing chambermaid,” “heavy father,” etc., will have soon altogether -disappeared, simply because the round of characters that engendered it -has disappeared. Now the manager selects, at his goodwill and pleasure, -anybody, in or out of his company, who he thinks will best suit the -character. - -As Mr. Wyndham informs me: “During the short period he was under our -management, both Mrs. Wyndham and myself took a most lively interest in -his promotion, for he was always perfect, and any character, however -small, he might have been called upon to represent, was in itself a -study; and I believe he would have sacrificed a week’s salary—a small -affair, by the way—to exactly look like the character he was about to -portray.” - -Of these old Edinburgh days Irving always thought fondly. At the Scottish -capital he is now welcomed with an affectionate sympathy; and the various -intellectual societies of the city—Philosophical and others—are ever glad -to receive instruction and entertainment from his lips. In November, -1891, when he was visiting the Students’ Union Dramatic Society, he -told them that some thirty years before “he was member of a University -there—the old Theatre Royal. There he had studied for two years and a -half his beautiful art, and there he learnt the lesson that they would -all learn, that— - - “‘Deep the oak must sink its roots in earth obscure, - That hopes to lift its branches to the sky.’” - -In some of his later speeches “of occasion” he has scattered little -autobiographical touches that are not without interest. On one occasion -he recalled how he was once summoned over to Dublin to supply the place -of another actor at the Queen’s Theatre, then under the direction of -two “manager-twins,” the Brothers Webb. The Queen’s was but a small -house, conducted on old-fashioned principles, and had a rather turbulent -audience. When the actor made his appearance he was, to his astonishment, -greeted with yells, general anger, and disapprobation. This was to be his -reception throughout the whole engagement, which was luckily not a long -one. He, however, stuck gallantly to his post, and sustained his part -with courage. He described the manager as perpetually making “alarums and -excursions” in front of the curtain to expostulate with the audience. -These “Brothers Webb, who had found their twinship profitable in playing -the ‘Dromios,’ were worthy actors enough, and much respected in their -profession; they had that marked individuality of character now so rarely -found on the boards. Having discovered, at last, what his offence was, -viz., the taking the place of a dismissed actor—an unconscious exercise -of a form of ‘land-grabbing’—his placid good-humour gradually made its -way, and before the close of the engagement he had, according to the -correct theatrical phrase, ‘won golden opinions.’” - -At the close of the season—in May, 1859—the Edinburgh company set out -on its travels, visiting various Scotch provincial towns. During -this peregrination, when at Dundee, the idea occurred to him and a -brother-player of venturing “a reading” in the neighbouring town of -Linlithgow. This adventure he has himself related in print. Our actor has -an agreeable vein of narrative, marked by a quiet, rather placid humour, -which is also found in his occasional speeches. The charm and secret of -this is the absence of affectation or pretence; a talisman ever certain -to win listeners and readers. Taking his friend, who was Mr. Saker, into -his confidence, he proceeded to arrange the scheme. But he shall tell the -story himself: - -“I had been about two years upon the stage, and was fulfilling my -first engagement at Edinburgh. Like all young men, I was full of hope. -It happened to be vacation time—‘preaching week,’ as it is called in -Scotland—and it struck me that I might turn my leisure to account by -giving a reading. I imparted this project to another member of the -company, who entered into it with enthusiasm. He, too, was young and -ambitious. I promised him half the profits. - -“Having arranged the financial details, we came to the secondary -question—Where was the reading to be given? It would scarcely do in -Edinburgh; the public there had too many other matters to think about. -Linlithgow was a likely place. My friend accordingly paid several visits -to Linlithgow, engaged the town-hall, ordered the posters, and came back -every time full of confidence. Meanwhile, I was absorbed in the ‘Lady -of Lyons,’ which, being the play that most charmed the fancy of a young -actor, I had decided to read; and day after day, perched on Arthur’s -Seat, I worked myself into a romantic fever. The day came, and we arrived -at Linlithgow in high spirits. I felt a thrill of pride at seeing my -name for the first time in big capitals on the posters, which announced -that at ‘eight o’clock precisely Mr. Henry Irving would read the “Lady -of Lyons.”’ At the hotel we eagerly questioned our waiter as to the -probability of there being a great rush. He pondered some time; but we -could get no other answer out of him than ‘Nane can tell.’ ‘Did he think -there would be fifty people there?’ ‘_Nane can tell._’ - -“Eight o’clock drew near, and we sallied out to survey the scene of -operations. The crowd had not yet begun to collect in front of the -town-hall, and the man who had undertaken to be there with the key was -not visible. As it was getting late, we went in search of the doorkeeper. -He was quietly reposing in the bosom of his family, and to our -remonstrance replied, ‘Ou, ay, the reading! I forgot all aboot it.’ This -was not inspiriting. - -“The door was opened, the gas was lighted, and my manager made the -most elaborate preparations for taking the money. While he was thus -energetically applying himself to business, I was strolling like a casual -spectator on the other side of the street, taking some last feverish -glances at the play, and anxiously watching for the first symptoms of -‘the rush.’ - -“The time wore on. The town clock struck eight, and still there was no -sign of ‘the rush.’ Half-past eight, and not a soul to be seen—not even a -small boy! I could not read the ‘Lady of Lyons’ to an audience consisting -of the manager, with a face as long as two tragedies, so there was -nothing for it but to beat a retreat. No one came out even to witness our -discomfiture. Linlithgow could not have taken the trouble to study the -posters, which now seemed such horrid mockeries in our eyes. - -“We managed to scrape together enough money to pay the expenses, which -operation was a sore trial to my speculative manager, and a pretty severe -tax upon the emoluments of the ‘juvenile lead.’ We returned to Edinburgh -the same night, and on the journey, by way of showing that I was not at -all cast down, I favoured my manager with selections from the play, which -he good-humouredly tolerated. - -“This incident was vividly revived last year, as I passed through -Linlithgow on my way from Edinburgh to Glasgow, in which cities I gave, -in conjunction with my friend Toole, two readings on behalf of the -sufferers by the bank failure, which produced a large sum of money. My -companion in the Linlithgow expedition was Mr. Edward Saker—now one of -the most popular managers in the provinces.” - -In March, 1859, we find our actor at the old Surrey Theatre, playing -under Mr. Shepherd and Mr. Creswick, for a “grand week,” so it was -announced, “of Shakespeare, and first-class pieces; supported by Miss -Elsworthy and Mr. Creswick, whose immense success during the past week -has been _rapturously endorsed_ by crowded and enthusiastic audiences.” -“Rapturously endorsed” is good. In ‘Macbeth’ we find Irving fitted with -the modest part of Siward, and this only for the first three nights in -the week. There was an after-piece, in which he had no part, and ‘Money’ -was given on the other nights. - -But he had now determined to quit Edinburgh, lured by the prospect of -“a London engagement,” an _ignis fatuus_ for many an actor, who is too -soon to find out that a London engagement does not mean exactly a London -success. In 1859 he made his farewell appearance in ‘Claude Melnotte,’ -and was received in very cordial fashion. As he told the people of -Glasgow many years later, he ever thought gratefully of the Scotch, as -they were the first who gave him encouragement. - -Once when engaged at some country theatre in Scotland the company were -playing in ‘Cramond Brig,’ a good sound old melodrama—of excellent -humour, too. Years later, when the prosperous manager and actor was -directing the Lyceum, some of the audience were surprised to find him -disinterring this ancient drama, and placing it at the opening of the -night’s performance. But I fancy it was the associations of this little -adventure that had given it a corner in his memory, and secured for it a -sort of vitality. Thus he tells the story: - - “When the play was being rehearsed, our jolly manager - said, ‘Now, boys, I shall stand a real supper to-night; no - paste-board and parsley, but a real sheep’s head, and a little - drop of real Scotch.’ A tumult of applause. - - “The manager was as good as his word, for at night there was - a real head well equipped with turnips and carrots, and the - ‘drop of real Scotch.’ The ‘neighbour’s bairn,’ an important - character in the scene, came in and took her seat beside the - miller’s chair. She was a pretty, sad-eyed, intelligent child - of some nine years old. In the course of the meal, when Jock - Howison was freely passing the whisky, she leaned over to - him and said, ‘Please, will you give me a little?’ He looked - surprised. She was so earnest in her request, that I whispered - to her, ‘To-morrow, perhaps, if you want it very much, you - shall have a thimbleful.’ - - “To-morrow night came, and, as the piece was going on, to my - amusement, she produced from the pocket of her little plaid - frock a bright piece of brass, and held it out to me. I said, - ‘What’s this?’ ‘A thimble, sir.’ ‘But what am I to do with it?’ - ‘You said that you would give me a thimbleful of whisky if I - wanted it, and I do want it.’ - - “This was said so naturally, that the audience laughed and - applauded. I looked over to the miller, and found him with - the butt-end of his knife and fork on the table, and his eyes - wide open, gazing at us in astonishment. However, we were both - experienced enough to pass off this unrehearsed effect as a - part of the piece. I filled the thimble, and the child took - it back carefully to her little ‘creepy’ stool beside the - miller. I watched her, and presently saw her turn her back to - the audience and pour it into a little halfpenny tin snuff-box. - She covered the box with a bit of paper, and screwed on the - lid, thus making the box pretty watertight, and put it into her - pocket. - - “When the curtain fell, our manager came forward and patted the - child’s head. ‘Why, my little girl,’ said he, ‘you are quite a - genius. Your gag is the best thing in the piece. We must have - it in every night. But, my child, you mustn’t drink the whisky. - No, no! that would never do.’ - - “‘Oh, sir, indeed I won’t; I give you my word I won’t!’ she - said quite earnestly, and ran to her dressing-room. - - “‘Cramond Brig’ had an unprecedented run of six nights, and the - little lady always got her thimbleful of whisky, and her round - of applause. And each time I noticed that she corked up the - former safely in the snuff-box. I was curious as to what she - could possibly want with the spirit, and who she was, and where - she came from. I asked her, but she seemed so unwilling to - tell, and turned so red, that I did not press her; but I found - out that it was the old story—no mother, and a drunken father. - - “I took a fancy to the little thing, and wished to fathom - her secret, for a secret I felt sure there was. After the - performance, I saw my little body come out. Poor little child! - there was no mother or brother to see her to her home. She - hurried up the street, and turning into the poorest quarter of - the town, entered the common stair of a tumbledown old house. I - followed, feeling my way as best I could. She went up and up, - till in the very top flat she entered a little room. A handful - of fire glimmering in the grate revealed a sickly boy, some two - years her junior, who crawled towards her from where he was - lying before the fire. - - “‘Cissy, I’m glad you’re home,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d never - come.’ - - “She put her arms round him, laid the poor little head on her - thin shoulder, and took him over to the fire again, trying to - comfort him as she went. - - “The girl leaned over and put her arms round him, and kissed - him; she then put her hand into her pocket and took out the - snuff-box. - - “‘Oh, Willie, I wish we had more, so that it might cure the - pain.’ - - “Having lighted a dip candle, she rubbed the child’s rheumatic - shoulder with the few drops of spirit, and then covered up the - little thin body, and, sitting before the fire, took the boy’s - head on her knee, and began to sing him to sleep. - - “I took another look into the room through the half-open door; - my foot creaked; the frightened eyes met mine. I put my finger - on my lips and crept away. - - “But as I began to descend the stair I met a drunken man - ascending—slipping and stumbling as he came. He slipped and - stumbled by me, and entered the room. I followed to the landing - unnoticed, and stood in the dark shadow of the half-open door. - - “A hoarse, brutal voice growled: ‘What are you doing there?—get - up!’ - - “‘I can’t, father; Willie’s head is on my knees.’ - - “‘Get up!’ - - “The girl bowed her head lower and lower. - - “I could not bear it. I entered the room. The brute was on - the bed already in his besotted sleep. The child stole up to - me, and in a half-frightened whisper said, ‘Oh, sir, oughtn’t - people to keep secrets, if they know them? I think they ought, - if they are other people’s.’ This with the dignity of a queen. - - “I could not gainsay her, so I said as gravely as I could to - the little woman, ‘The secret shall be kept, but you must ask - me if you want anything.’ She bent over, suddenly kissed my - hand, and I went down the stair. - - “The next night she was shy in coming for the whisky, and I - took care that she had good measure. - - “The last night of our long run of six nights she looked more - happy than I had ever seen her. When she came for the whisky - she held out the thimble, and whispered to me with her poor, - pale lips trembling, ‘You need only pretend to-night.’ - - “‘Why?’ I whispered. - - “‘Because—he doesn’t want it now. He’s dead.’” - -The London engagement was offered him by the late Mr. A. Harris, then -managing the Princess’s Theatre. It was for three years. But when he -arrived he found that the only opening given him was a part of a few -lines in a play called ‘Ivy Hall.’ As this meagre employment promised -neither improvement nor fame, he went to the manager and begged his -release. This he obtained, and courageously quitted London, determined -not to return until he could claim a respectable and conspicuous -position. Thus we find him, with perhaps a heavy heart, once more -returning to the provinces, just as Mrs. Siddons had to return to the -same form of drudgery after her failure at Drury Lane. Before leaving -London, that wholesome taste for appealing to the appreciation of the -judicious and intellectual portion of the community, which has always -been “a note” of his character, prompted him to give two readings at the -old palace of Crosby Hall. In this he was encouraged by City friends and -old companions, who had faith in his powers. It was something to make -this exhibition under the roof-tree of that interesting old pile, not -yet “restored”; and the _locale_, we may imagine, was in harmony with -his own refined tastes. He read the ‘Lady of Lyons’ on December 19, -1859, and the somewhat artificial ‘Virginius’ on February 1, 1860. These -performances were received with favour, and were pronounced by the public -critics to show scholarly feeling and correct taste. “His conception was -good, his delivery clear and effective, and there was a gentlemanly ease -and grace in his manners which is exceedingly pleasing to an audience.” -One observer with some prescience detected “the indefinite something -which incontestably and instantaneously shows that the fire of genius -is present.” Another pronounced “that he was likely to make a name for -himself.” At the last scenes between the hero and Pauline, the listeners -were much affected, and “in some parts of the room sobs were heard.” -Another judge opined that “if he attempted a wider sphere of action,” he -would have a most successful career. This “wider sphere of action” he has -since “attempted,” but at that moment his eyes were strained, wearily -enough, looking for it. It lay before him in the weary round of work in -the provinces, to which, as we have seen, he had now to return. - -I have before me a curious little criticism of this performance taken -from an old and long defunct journal that bore the name of _The Players_, -which will now be read with a curious interest: - -“We all know the ‘Dramatic Reading.’ We have all—at least, all who -have served their apprenticeship to theatrical amusements—suffered -the terrible infliction of the Dramatic Reader; but then with equal -certainty we have all answered to the next gentleman’s call of a ‘Night -with Shakespeare, with Readings, etc.,’ and have again undergone the -insufferable bore of hearing our dear old poet murdered by the aspiring -genius. Thinking somewhat as we have above written the other evening, -we wended our editorial way towards Crosby Hall, where our informant -‘circular’ assured us Mr. Henry Irving was about to read Bulwer’s ‘Lady -of Lyons.’ We asked ourselves, Who is Mr. Henry Irving? and memory, -rushing to some hidden cave in our mental structure, answered—Henry -Irving, oh! yes, to be sure; how stupid! We at once recollected that Mr. -Irving was a gentleman of considerable talent, and a great favourite in -the provinces. We have often seen his name honourably figuring in the -columns of our provincial contemporaries. Now, we were most agreeably -disappointed on this present occasion; for instead of finding the -usual conventional respectable-looking ‘mediocrity,’ we were gratified -by hearing the poetical ‘Lady of Lyons’ poetically read by a most -accomplished elocutionist, who gave us not only words, but that finer -indefinite something which proves incontestably and instantaneously that -the fire of genius is present in the artist. It would be out of place -now to speak of the merits of the piece selected by this gentleman, -but the merits appeared as striking and the demerits as little so as -on any occasion of the kind in our recollection. Claude’s picture of -his imaginary home was given with such poetic feeling as to elicit a -loud burst of approval from his hearers, as also many other passages -occurring in the play. The characters were well marked, especially -Beauseant and Madame Deschappelles, whilst the little part of Glavis -was very pleasingly given. Mr. Irving was frequently interrupted by the -applause of his numerous and delighted audience, and at the conclusion -was unanimously called to receive their marks of approval.” It was at -this interesting performance that Mr. Toole, as he tells us, first met -his friend. - -A very monotonous feature in too many of the dramatic memoirs is found -in the record of dates, engagements, and performances, which in many -instances are the essence of the whole. They are uninteresting to anyone -save perhaps to the hero himself. So in this record we shall summarize -such details as much as possible. Our actor went straight to Glasgow, -to Glover’s Theatre, whence he passed to the Theatre Royal, Manchester, -where he remained for some four years, till June, 1865. Here he met fresh -histrionic friends, who “came round” the circuit in succession—such as -Edwin Booth, Sothern, Charles Mathews, G.V. Brooke, Miss Heath, and -that versatile actor and dramatist and manager, Dion Boucicault. Here -he gradually gained a position of respect—respect for his unfailing -assiduity and scrupulous conscientiousness, qualities which the public -is never slow to note. In many points he offers a suggestion of Dickens, -as in his purpose of doing whatever he attempted in the very best way he -could. There are other points, too, in which the actor strongly recalls -the novelist; the sympathetic interest in all about him, the absence -of affectation combined with great talents, the aptitude for practical -business, the knowledge of character, the precious art of making friends, -and the being unspoiled by good fortune. Years later he recalled with -grateful pleasure the encouragement he had received here. And his -language is touching and betokens a sympathetic heart: - -“I lived here for five years, and wherever I look—to the right or to the -left, to the north or the south—I always find some remembrance, some -memento of those five years. But there is one association connected with -my life here that probably is unknown to but a few in this room. That is -an association with a friend, which had much to do, I believe, with the -future course of our two lives. When I tell you that for months and years -we fought together and worked together to the best of our power, and with -the means we had then, to give effect to the art we were practising; -when I tell you we dreamt of what might be done, but was not then done, -and patted each other on the back and said, ‘Well, old fellow, perhaps -the day will come when you may have a little more than sixpence in your -pocket;’ when I tell you that that man was well known to you, and that -his name was Calvert, you will understand the nature of my associations -with Manchester. I have no doubt that you will be able to trace in my -own career, and the success I have had, the benefit of the communion I -had with him. When I was in Manchester I had very many friends. I needed -good advice at that time, for I found it a very difficult thing as an -actor to pursue my profession and to do justice to certain things that -I always had a deep, and perhaps rather an extravagant, idea of, on the -sum of £75 a year. I have been making a calculation within the last few -minutes of the amount of money that I did earn in those days, and I found -that it was about £75 a year. Perhaps one would be acting out of the -fifty-two weeks of the year some thirty-five. The other part of the year -one would probably be receiving nothing. Then an actor would be tempted -perhaps to take a benefit, by which he generally lost £20 or £30. I have -a very fond recollection, I have an affection for your city, for very -many reasons. The training I received here was a severe training; I must -say at first it was very severe. I found it a difficult thing to make my -way at all with the audience; and I believe the audience to a certain -extent was right; I think there was no reason that I _should_ make my way -with them. I don’t think I had learnt enough; I think I was too raw, too -unacceptable. But I am very proud to say that it was not long before, -with the firmness of the Manchester friendship which I have always found, -they got to like me; and I think before I parted with them they had an -affection for me. At all events, I remember when in this city as little -less—or little more—than a walking gentleman, I essayed the part of -Hamlet the Dane, I was looked upon as a sort of madman who ought to be -taken to some asylum and shut up; but I found in acting it before the -audience that their opinion was a very different one, and before the play -was half gone through I was received with a fervour and a kindness which -gave me hope and expectation that in the far and distant future I might -perhaps be able to benefit by their kindness. Perhaps they thought that -by encouraging me they might help me on in the future. I believe they -thought that, I believe that was in the thoughts of many of the audience, -for they received me with an enthusiasm and kindness which my merits did -not deserve.” - -The man that could trace these faithful records of provincial stage life, -and speak in this natural heartfelt fashion of memories which many would -not perhaps wish to revive, must have a courageous and sympathetic nature. - -Many years later, in his prosperity, he came to Bolton to lay the first -stone of a new theatre, on which occasion other old memories recurred to -him. “I once played here,” he said, “for a week, I am afraid to say how -many years ago, and a very good time we had with a little sharing company -from Manchester, headed by an actor, Charles Calvert. The piece we acted -was called ‘Playing with Fire’; and though we did not play with too much -money, we enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. I always look back to that week -with very great pleasure. The theatre then had not certainly every modern -appliance, but what the theatre lacked the audience made up for, and a -more spontaneous, good-natured public I never played to.” - -On another occasion he again indulged in a retrospect; indeed, his eyes -seem always to have fondly turned back to Manchester and these early -days of struggle: “I came all the way from Greenock with a few shillings -in my pocket, and found myself in the splendid theatre now presided -over by our friend Captain Bainbridge. The autumn dramatic season of -1860 commenced with a little farce, and a little two-act piece from -the French, called ‘The Spy,’ the whole concluding with ‘God Save the -Queen,’ in which, and in the little two-act piece from the French, I -took prominent parts; so you see, gentlemen, that as a vocalist I even -then had some proficiency, although I had not achieved the distinction -subsequently attained by my efforts in Mephistopheles. Well, you will -admit that the little piece from the French and the one-act farce—‘God -Save the Queen’ was left out after the first night, through no fault of -mine, I assure you—you will admit that these two pieces did not make up -a very sensational bill of fare. I cannot conscientiously say that they -crammed the theatre for a fortnight, but what did that matter?—we were at -the Theatre Royal, Manchester, the manager was a man of substance, and -we were all very happy and comfortable. Besides ‘Faust and Marguerite,’ -there was a burlesque of Byron’s, ‘The Maid and the Magpie,’ in which I -also played, the part being that of an exceedingly heavy father; and you -will forgive me, I am sure, for saying that the very heavy father was -considered by some to be anything but a dull performance. But though the -houses were poor, we were a merry family. Our wants were few: we were not -extravagant. We had a good deal of exercise, and what we did not earn we -worked hard to borrow as frequently as possible from one another. Ah! -they were very happy days. But do not think that this was our practice -always of an afternoon; there was plenty of fine work done in the -theatre. The public of Manchester was in those days a critical public, -and could not long be satisfied with such meagre fare as I have pictured. -During the five years of my sojourn in Manchester there was a succession -of brilliant plays performed by first-rate actors, and I must say that I -owe much to the valuable experience which I gained in your Theatre Royal -under the management of John Knowles.” - -In his Manchester recollections, as we see, there are hints of very -serious struggles and privations. Such are, as says Boswell, “bark and -steel for the mind.” A man is the better for them, though the process is -painful; they assuredly teach resource and patience. Years after, the -actor, now grown celebrated and prosperous, used to relate, and relate -dramatically, this very touching little story of his struggles: - -“Perhaps the most remarkable Christmas dinner at which I have ever been -present was the one at which we dined upon underclothing. Do you remember -Joe Robins—a nice genial fellow who played small parts in the provinces? -Ah, no; that was before your time. Joe Robins was once in the gentleman’s -furnishing business in London city. I think he had a wholesale trade, and -was doing well. However, he belonged to one of the semi-Bohemian clubs, -associated a great deal with actors and journalists, and when an amateur -performance was organized for some charitable object, he was cast for -the clown in a burlesque called ‘Guy Fawkes.’ He determined to go upon -the stage professionally and become a great actor. Fortunately, Joe was -able to dispose of his stock and goodwill for a few hundreds, which he -invested so as to give him an income sufficient to prevent the wolf from -getting inside his door in case he did not eclipse Garrick, Kean, and -Kemble. He also packed up for himself a liberal supply of his wares, and -started in his profession with enough shirts, collars, handkerchiefs, -stockings, and underclothing to equip him for several years. - -“The amateur success of poor Joe was never repeated on the regular stage. -He did not make an absolute failure; no manager would entrust him with -parts big enough for him to fail in. But he drifted down to general -utility, and then out of London, and when I met him he was engaged in a -very small way, on a very small salary, at a Manchester theatre. - -“Christmas came in very bitter weather. Joe had a part in the Christmas -pantomime. He dressed with other poor actors, and he saw how thinly -some of them were clad when they stripped before him to put on their -stage costumes. For one poor fellow in especial his heart ached. In the -depth of a very cold winter he was shivering in a suit of very light -summer underclothing, and whenever Joe looked at him, the warm flannel -undergarments snugly packed away in an extra trunk weighed heavily on -his mind. Joe thought the matter over, and determined to give the actors -who dressed with him a Christmas dinner. It was literally a dinner upon -underclothing, for most of the shirts and drawers which Joe had cherished -so long went to the pawnbroker’s or the slop-shop to provide the money -for the meal. The guests assembled promptly, for nobody else is ever so -hungry as a hungry actor. The dinner was to be served at Joe’s lodgings, -and before it was placed on the table, Joe beckoned his friend with the -gauze underclothing into a bedroom, and pointing to a chair, silently -withdrew. On that chair hung a suit of underwear, which had been Joe’s -pride. It was of a comfortable scarlet colour; it was thick, warm, and -heavy; it fitted the poor actor as if it had been manufactured especially -to his measure. He put it on, and as the flaming flannels encased his -limbs, he felt his heart glowing within him with gratitude to dear Joe -Robins. - -“That actor never knew—or, if he knew, could never remember—what he -had for dinner on that Christmas afternoon. He revelled in the luxury -of warm garments. The roast beef was nothing to him in comparison with -the comfort of his under-vest; he appreciated the drawers more than -the plum-pudding. Proud, happy, warm, and comfortable, he felt little -inclination to eat; but sat quietly, and thanked Providence and Joe -Robins with all his heart. ‘You seem to enter into that poor actor’s -feelings very sympathetically.’ ‘I have good reason to do so, replied -Irving, with his sunshiny smile, ‘_for I was that poor actor_!’” - -This really simple, most affecting, incident he himself related when on -his first visit to America. - -Most actors have a partiality for what may be called fantastic freaks -or “practical jokes,” to be accounted for perhaps by a sort of reaction -from their own rather monotonous calling. The late Mr. Sothern delighted -in such pastimes, and Mr. Toole is not exactly indifferent to them. The -excitement caused by that ingenious pair of mountebanks, the Davenport -Brothers, will still be recalled: their appearance at Manchester early -in 1865 prompted our actor to a lively method of exposure, which he -carried out with much originality. With the aid of another actor, Mr. -Philip Day, and a prestidigitator, Mr. Frederic Maccabe, he arranged his -scheme, and invited a large number of friends and notables of the city -to a performance in the Athenæum. Assuming the dress characteristics -of a patron of the Brothers, one Dr. Ferguson, Irving came forward -and delivered a grotesque address, and then, in the usual familiar -style, proceeded to “tie up” his coadjutors in the cabinet, with the -accompaniments of ringing bells, beating tambourines, etc. The whole -was, as a matter of course, successful. It was not, however, strictly -within the programme of an actor who was “toiling at his oar,” though the -vivacity of youth was likely enough to have prompted it. - -On the eve of his departure from Manchester he determined on an ambitious -attempt, and, as already stated, played ‘Hamlet’ for his own benefit. The -company good-naturedly favoured his project, though they fancied it was -beyond his strength. It was, as he has told us, an extraordinary success, -and the performance was called for on several nights—a high compliment, -as it was considered, in the city, where the custom was to require a “new -bill” every night. He himself did not put much faith in the prophecies -of future eminence that were uttered on this occasion; he felt that, -after all, there was no likelihood of his emerging from the depressing -monotonous round of provincial histrionics. But rescue was nearer at hand -than he fancied. The stage is stored with surprises, and there, at least, -it is the unexpected that always, or usually, happens. - -Leaving Manchester, he passed to Edinburgh, Bury, Oxford, and even to -Douglas, Isle of Man, where the assembly-room used to do duty as a -“fit-up” theatre. For six months, from January to July, 1866, he was at -Liverpool with Mr. Alexander Henderson. - -Thus had he seen many men and many theatres and many audiences, and must -have learned many a rude lesson, besides learning his profession. At this -moment, as he described it long after, he found himself one day standing -on the steps of the theatre looking hopelessly down the street, and in a -sort of despair, without an engagement, and no very likely prospect of -engagement, not knowing, indeed, which way to turn, unless some “stroke -of luck” came. But the “actor’s luck,” as he said, “is really _work_;” -and the lucky actor is, above all, a worker. At this hopeless moment -arrived unexpectedly a proposal from Dion Boucicault that he should join -him at Manchester and take a leading character in his new piece. He -accepted; but with some shrewdness stipulated that should he succeed to -the author’s satisfaction, he was to obtain an engagement in London. This -was acceded to, and with a light heart he set off. - -Mr. Boucicault, indeed, long after in America boasted that it was his -good fortune to “discover Irving” in 1866, when he was playing in “the -country.” The performance took place on July 30, 1866. “He was cast -for a part in ‘Hunted Down,’ and played it so admirably that I invited -my friend Mr. Charles Reade to go and see him. He confirmed my opinion -so strongly, that when ‘Hunted Down’ was played in London a few months -afterwards, I gave it conditionally on Mr. Irving’s engagement. That -was his _début_ in London as a leading actor.” He added some judicious -criticism, distinguishing Irving as “an eccentric serious actor” from -Jefferson, who was “an eccentric comic actor.” “His mannerisms are -so very marked that an audience requires a long familiarity with his -style before it can appreciate many merits that are undeniable. It is -unquestionable that he is the greatest actor as a tragedian that London -has seen during the last fifty years.”[2] - -In this piece, ‘Mary Leigh and her Three Lives’ (which later became -‘Hunted Down’), the heroine was performed by Miss Kate Terry, at that -time the only member of a gifted family who had made a reputation. -Irving’s character was Rawdon Scudamore, a polished villain, to which he -imparted such force and _finesse_, that it impressed all who witnessed -it with the belief that here was an actor of striking power. It at once -gave him “a position,” and an impression of his gifts was of a sudden -left upon the profession, upon those even who had not seen him. No fewer -than three offers of engagement were made to him. The author of the -piece, as we have seen, was particularly struck with his powers; his -London engagement was now secure, and he was to receive a tempting offer, -through Mr. Tom Taylor, from the management of the St James’s Theatre, -about to open with the new season. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -1866. - -THE ST. JAMES’S THEATRE—‘HUNTED DOWN’—THE NEW VAUDEVILLE THEATRE—‘THE TWO -ROSES.’ - - -The directress of the new venture at the St. James’s Theatre was Miss -Herbert, a graceful, sympathetic person of much beauty, with exquisite -golden hair and almost devotional features, which supplied many of the -Pre-Raphaelite brethren with angelic faces for their canvases. On the -stage her efforts were directed by great intelligence and spirit, and -she was now about to essay all the difficulties and perplexities of -management. Like so many others, she had before her a very high ideal -of her office: the good, vivacious old comedies, with refined, correct -acting, were to entice the wayward public, with pieces by Reade, Tom -Taylor, and Boucicault. This pleasing actress was destined to have a -chequered course of struggle and adventure, a mingled yarn of success and -disappointment, and has long since retired from the stage. - -At the St. James’s Theatre the company was formed of the manageress -herself; of Walter Lacy, an actor of fine polish and grace; of Addison, -one of the old school; with that excellent mirth-making pair, the Frank -Mathews. The stage-manager was Irving. Here, then, he found himself, to -his inexpressible satisfaction, in a respected and respectable position, -one very different from that of the actor-of-all-work in the provinces. -Not the least comforting reflection was that he had won his way to this -station by remarkable talent and conscientious labour. The theatre -opened on October 6, 1866. ‘Hunted Down’ was the piece originally fixed -upon, but it could not be got ready in time, so a change was made to the -lively old comedy of the ‘Belle’s Stratagem,’ the name which it had been -originally proposed to give to Oliver Goldsmith’s ‘She Stoops to Conquer.’ - -The actor tells us of this interesting occasion: “I was cast for -Doricourt, a part which I had never played before, and which I thought -did not suit me; I felt that this was the opinion of the audience -soon after the play began. The house appeared to be indifferent, and -I believed that failure was conclusively stamped upon my work, when -suddenly, upon my exit after the mad scene, I was startled by a burst of -applause, and so great was the enthusiasm of the audience, that I was -compelled to reappear upon the scene, a somewhat unusual thing except -upon the operatic stage.”[3] This compliment is nearly always paid to our -actor when he performs this part. - -In the criticisms of the piece the efforts of the interesting -manageress-actress of course received the chief attention. Dramatic -criticism, however, at this time was of a somewhat slender kind, and the -elaborate study of an individual performer’s merits was not then in -fashion. The play itself was then “the thing,” and accordingly we find -the new actor’s exertions dealt with in a curt but encouraging style: -“Mr. H. Irving was the fine gentleman in Doricourt: but he was more, -for his mad scenes were truthfully conceived and most subtly executed.” -Thus the _Athenæum_. And Mr. Oxenford, with his usual reserve, after -pronouncing that the comedy was “a compound of English dulness and -Italian pantomime,” added that Doricourt “was heavy company till he -feigns madness, and the mock insanity represented by Mr. H. Irving is the -cause of considerable mirth.” This slight and meagre tribute contrasts -oddly with the elaborate fulness of stage criticism in our day. - -The piece has always continued in the actor’s _répertoire_, after being -compressed into a few scenes. The rich, old-fashioned dress and powder -suits the performer and sets off his intelligent features, which wear a -smiling expression, as though consciously enjoying the comedy flavour of -the piece. - -A little later, on November 5, ‘Hunted Down’ was brought forward, in -which the actor, as Rawdon Scudamore, made a deep impression. It was -declared that the part “completely served the purpose of displaying -the talent of Mr. Henry Irving, whose ability in depicting the most -vindictive feelings, _merely by dint of facial expression_, is very -remarkable.” Facial expression is, unhappily, but little used on our -English stage, and yet it is one of the most potent agencies—more so than -speech or gesture.[4] It was admitted, too, that he displayed another -precious gift—reserve—conveying even more than he expressed: a store of -secret villainy as yet unrevealed. Many were the compliments paid him on -this creation; and friends of Charles Dickens know how much struck he -was with the new actor’s impersonation. The novelist was always eager to -recognise new talent of this kind. Some years later, “Charles Dickens the -younger,” as he was then called, related at a banquet how his celebrated -father had once gone to see the ‘Lancashire Lass,’ and on his return -home had said: “But there was a young fellow in the play who sits at the -table and is bullied by Sam Emery; his name is Henry Irving, and if that -young man does not one day come out as a great actor, I know nothing of -art.” A worthy descendant of the Kembles, Mrs. Sartoris, also heartily -appreciated his powers.[5] During the season a round of pieces were -brought forward, such as ‘The Road to Ruin,’ ‘The School for Scandal’ -(in which he played young Dornton and Joseph Surface), ‘Robert Macaire,’ -and a new Robertson drama, ‘A Rapid Thaw,’ in which he took the part of -a conventional Irishman, O’Hoolagan! It must have been a quaint surprise -to see our actor in a Hibernian character. After the season closed, the -company went “on tour” to Liverpool, Dublin, and other towns.[6] - -Miss Herbert’s venture, like so many other ventures planned on an -intellectual basis, did not flourish exceedingly; and in the course of -the years that followed we find our actor appearing rather fitfully -at various London theatres, which at this time, before the great -revival of the stage, were in rather an unsettled state. He went with -Sothern to play in Paris, appearing at the Théâtre des Italiens, and -in December, 1867, found an engagement at the Queen’s Theatre in Long -Acre, a sort of “converted” concert-room, where nothing seemed to -thrive; and here for the first time he played with Miss Ellen Terry, -in ‘Catherine and Petruchio’ (a piece it might be well worth while to -revive at the Lyceum); and in that very effective drama, ‘Dearer than -Life,’ with Brough and Toole; in ‘The School for Scandal’; also making a -striking effect in ‘Bill Sikes.’ I fancy this character, though somewhat -discounted by Dubosc, would, if revived, add to his reputation. We find -him also performing the lugubrious Falkland in ‘The Rivals.’ He also -played Redburn in the highly popular ‘Lancashire Lass,’ which “ran” -for many months. At the Queen’s Theatre he remained for over a year, -not making any marked advance in his profession, owing to the lack of -favourable opportunities. He had a part in Watts Phillips’ drama of ‘Not -Guilty.’ Then, in 1869, he came to the Haymarket, and had an engagement -at Drury Lane in Boucicault’s ‘Formosa,’ a piece that gave rise to -much excited discussion on the ground of the “moralities.” His part -was, however, colourless, being little more than a cardboard figure: -anything fuller or rounder would have been lost on so huge a stage. It -was performed, or “ran,” for over a hundred nights. With his sensitive, -impressionable nature the performance of so barren a character must -have been positive pain: his dramatic soul lay blank and fallow during -the whole of that unhappy time. Not very much ground had been gained -beyond the reputation of a sound and useful performer. Relying on my -own personal impressions—for I followed him from the beginning of his -course—I should say that the first distinct effort that left prominent -and distinct impression was his performance at the Gaiety Theatre, in -December, 1869, of the cold, pompous Mr. Chenevix, in Byron’s ‘Uncle -Dick’s Darling.’ It was felt at once, as I then felt, that here was a -rich original creation, a figure that lingered in the memory, and which -you followed, as it moved, with interest and pleasure. There was a -surprising finish and reserve. It was agreed that we had now an actor of -_genre_, who had the power of creating a character. The impression made -was really remarkable, and this specimen of good, pure comedy was set -off by the pathetic acting of “friend Toole,” who played ‘Uncle Dick.’ -This was a turning-point in his career, and no doubt led to an important -advance. But these days of uncertainty were now to close. I can recall -my own experience of the curious pleasure and satisfaction left by the -performance of this unfamiliar actor, who suggested so much more than -the rather meagre character itself conveyed. I found myself drawn to see -it several times, and still the feeling was always that of some secret -undeveloped power in the clever, yet unpretending, performer. - -Irving can tell a story in the pleasantest “high comedy” manner, and -without laying emphasis on points. In May last, being entertained by the -“Savages,” he made a most agreeable speech, and related this adventure -of his early Bohemian days, in illustration of the truth that “it is -always well to have a personal acquaintance with a presiding magistrate.” -“I had driven one night from the Albion to some rooms I occupied in old -Quebec Street, and after bidding the cabman farewell, I was preparing -to seek repose, when there came a knock at the door. Upon opening it -I found the cabman, who said that I had given him a bad half-crown. -Restraining myself, I told him ‘to be—to begone.’ I shut the door, but -in a few moments there came another knock, and with the cabman appeared -a policeman, who said, with the grave formality of his office, ‘You -are charged with passing a bad half-crown, and must come with me to -the police-station.’ I explained that I was a respectable, if unknown, -citizen, pursuing a noble, though precarious, calling, and that I could -be found in the morning at the address I had given. The policeman was -not at all impressed by that, so I jumped into the cab and went to the -station, where the charge was entered upon the night-sheet, and I was -briefly requested to make myself at home. ‘Do you intend me to spend the -night here?’ I said to the inspector. ‘Certainly,’ he said; ‘that is the -idea.’ So I asked him to oblige me with a pencil and a piece of paper, -which he reluctantly gave me. I addressed a few words to Sir Thomas -Henry, who was then presiding magistrate at Bow Street, and with whom I -had an intimacy, in an unofficial capacity. The inspector looked at me. -‘Do you know Sir Thomas Henry?’ he said. ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I have that -honour.’ The officer suddenly turned round to the policeman and said, -‘What do you mean by bringing such a charge against this gentleman?’ -Then he turned fiercely on the cabman, and nearly kicked him out of the -office. I returned home triumphantly in the cab. I cannot give a young -‘Savage’ first starting on his career a sounder piece of advice than -this—‘Always know your own mind, and also a magistrate.’” We practised -_littérateurs_ might well envy the pleasant facility and point with which -this is told. - -About this time an attractive actor, who had been much followed on -account of his good looks, one Harry Montague, had joined in management -with two diverting drolls—as they were then—James and Thorne, who were -the pillars of burlesque at the Strand Theatre. All three felt a sort -of inspiration that they were capable of something higher and more -“legitimate”—an impression which the event has more than justified. The -two last, by assiduous study and better opportunities, became admirable -comedians. A sort of club that had not prospered was lying unused in the -Strand, and a little alteration converted it into a theatre. The three -managers were anxiously looking for a piece of modern manners which -would exhibit to advantage their several gifts. A young fellow, who had -left his desk for playwriting, had brought them a sort of comedy which -was in a very crude state, but which, it seemed likely, could be made -what they wanted; and by the aid of their experience and suggestions, it -was fashioned into shape. Indeed, it proved that never was a piece more -admirably suited to the company that played it. The characters fitted -them all, as it is called, “like gloves.” They were bright, interesting, -natural, and humorous; the story was pleasing and interesting, and the -dialogue agreeable and smart. Such was ‘The Two Roses,’ which still holds -the stage, though it now seems a little old-fashioned. Irving was one of -the performers, and was perhaps the best suited of the group. The perfect -success of the piece proved how advantageous is the old system of having -a piece “written in the theatre,” when the intelligence of the performers -and that of the managers are brought in aid of each other. The little -house opened on April 16, 1870, with a piece of Mr. Halliday’s; and it -was not until a few weeks later that the piece was brought forward—on -June 4. The success was instantaneous. - -The unctuous Honey, in his own line an excellent original actor, raised -in the good old school of the “low comedian,” which has now disappeared, -was the good-natured Bagman—a part taken later by James, who was also -excellent. Thorne was efficient, and sufficiently reserved, in the -rather unmeaning blind Caleb Decie; while Montague was the gallant and -interesting hero, Jack Wyatt. The two girls were represented in pleasing -fashion by Miss Amy Fawcitt and Miss Newton. The piece, as I have said, -owed much to the actors, though these again owed much to the piece. It -is difficult to adjust the balance of obligation in such cases; but good -actors can make nothing of a bad play, whereas a good play may make -good actors. Irving, as Digby Grant, was the chief attraction, and his -extraordinarily finished and varied playing of that insincere and selfish -being excited general admiration. - -It has not been noticed, in these days of appropriation, that the piece -was practically an ingenious variation, or adaptation, of Dickens’ -‘Little Dorrit.’ For here we find old Dorrit, his two daughters, and one -of their admirers; also the constant loans, the sudden good fortune, and -the equally sudden reverse. It was easy to see that the piece had been -formed by the evolution of this one character, the legitimate method, it -has always seemed to me, of making a play; whereas the average dramatist -adopts a reverse practice of finding a story, and then finding characters -for it. Character itself _is_ a story. The character of Digby Grant was -the first that gave him firm hold of public favour. It belongs to pure -comedy—a fidgety, selfish being, self-deluded by the practice of social -hypocrisies, querulous, scheming, wheedling. It is curious that a very -good actor, who later filled the part, took the villainy _au sérieux_, -giving the complaint, “_You annoy me very much!_” repeated so often, as a -genuine reproach, and with anger. Irving’s was the true view—a simulated -vexation, “_You annoy me very much!_” The audience sees that he is not -“annoyed very much.” - -After our actor’s visit to America, his performance was noticed -to be more elaborate and laboured, but it had lost some of its -spontaneousness—a result which, it has been noted, is too often the -result of playing to American audiences, who are pleased with broad -effects. This piece continued to be played for about a year—then thought -to be a prodigious run, though it is now found common enough—during which -time Irving’s reputation steadily increased.[7] - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -1871. - -‘THE BELLS’—WILLS’S ‘CHARLES I.’ - - -Among those who had taken note of Irving’s efforts was a “long-headed” -American manager, whose loudly-expressed criticism was that “he ought -to play Richelieu!” This was a far-seeing view. Many years before, this -manager had been carrying round the country his two “prodigy” daughters, -who had attracted astonishment by their precocious playing in a pretty -little piece of courtship, called ‘The Young Couple.’ The elder later -won favour by her powerful and intense acting in ‘Leah’; and he was -now about taking a theatre with a view of bringing forward his second -daughter, Isabel. It seems curious now to think that the handsome, -elegantly-designed Lyceum Theatre, built by an accomplished architect -on the most approved principles, was then lying derelict, as it were, -and at the service of any stray _entrepreneur_. It could be had on very -cheap terms, for at this time the revival of theatrical interest had not -yet come; the theatre, not yet in high fashion, was conducted on rude, -coarse lines. The attractions of the old correct comedy, as seen at the -Haymarket, were waning, and the old companies were beginning to break up. -Buckstone and Webster were in their decay, yet still lagged ingloriously -on the stage. The pit and galleries were catered for. Theatres were -constantly opening, and as constantly closing. Burlesques of the Gaiety -pattern were coming into favour. In this state of things the shrewd -American saw an opportunity. He had an excellent coadjutor in his wife, a -clever, hard working lady, with characteristics that often suggested the -good-natured Mrs. Crummles, but without any of her eccentricities. Her -husband took the Lyceum, and proceeded to form a company; and one of his -first steps was to offer an engagement to Irving. - -The new venture started on September 11, 1871, with an unimportant piece, -‘Fanchette,’ founded on George Sand’s ‘Petite Fadette,’ in which our -actor had a character quite unsuited to his gifts, a sort of peasant -lover.[8] The object was to introduce the manager’s daughter, Isabel, -in a fantastical part, but the piece was found “too French,” and rather -far-fetched. It failed very disastrously. The young actor, of course, had -to bear his share in the failure; but he could not have dreamt at that -moment that here he was to find his regular home, and that for twenty -long years he was destined never to be away from the shadow of the great -portico of the Lyceum. - -The prospect for the American manager was now not very encouraging. He -had made a serious mistake at starting. In a few weeks he had replaced it -by a version of _Pickwick_, with a view of utilizing his chief comedian’s -talent as “Jingle.” The play was but a rude piece of carpentry, without -any of the flavour of the novel, hastily put together and acted -indifferently; the actors were dressed after the pictures in the story, -but did not catch the spirit of their characters. Irving in face and -figure and dress was thoroughly Pickwickian, and reproduced Seymour and -Hablot Browne’s sketch, very happily catching the recklessness and rattle -of the original. Still, it was difficult to avoid the suggestion of -‘Jeremy Diddler,’ or of the hero of ‘A Race for a Dinner.’ The reason, -perhaps, was that the adaptation was conceived in a purely farcical -spirit. It has always seemed to me that “the Immortal Pickwick” should -be treated as comedy rather than farce, and would be more effective on -the stage were the Jingle scenes set forth with due seriousness and -sincerity. The incidents at the Rochester Ball, for instance, belong to -pure comedy, and would be highly effective. Some years later Irving put -the work into the not very skilful hands of Albery, who reduced it to -the proportions of a farce with some pathetic elements. It was called -‘Jingle.’ - -At this time there was “hanging loose on” the theatres, as Dr. Johnson -once phrased it, one Leopold Lewis, who had been seduced from an office -by the enchantments of the stage. He had made a translation of a very -striking French play, ‘Le Juif Polonais,’ which had been shown to the new -actor. This, as is well known, was by the gifted pair Erckmann-Chatrian, -whose realistic but picturesque stories, that call up before us the old -“Elsass” life, show extraordinary dramatic power. This ‘Juif Polonais’ is -more a succession of tableaux than a formal play, but, like ‘L’Ami Fritz’ -of the same writers, it has a charm that is irresistible. It is forgotten -that a version of this piece had already been brought before the public -at one of the minor theatres, which was the work of Mr. F. C. Burnand, -at that time a busy caterer for the theatres, chiefly of melodramas, such -as the ‘Turn of the Tide’ and ‘Deadman’s Point.’ - -“Much against the wish of my friends,” says our actor, “I took an -engagement at the Lyceum, then under the management of Mr. Bateman. I -had successfully acted in many plays besides ‘The Two Roses,’ which ran -three hundred nights. It was thought by everybody interested in such -matters that I ought to identify myself with what they called ‘character -parts’; though what that phrase means, by the way, I never could exactly -understand, for I have a prejudice in the belief that every part should -be a character. I always wanted to play in the higher drama. Even in my -boyhood my desire had been in that direction. When at the Vaudeville -Theatre, I recited the poem of ‘Eugene Aram,’ simply to get an idea as -to whether I could impress an audience with a tragic theme. I hoped I -could, and at once made up my mind to prepare myself to play characters -of another type. When Mr. Bateman engaged me he told me he would give -me an opportunity, if he could, to play various parts, as it was to -his interest as much as to mine to discover what he thought would be -successful—though, of course, never dreaming of ‘Hamlet’ or of ‘Richard -III.’ Well, the Lyceum opened, but did not succeed. Mr. Bateman had lost -a lot of money, and he intended giving it up. He proposed to me to go -to America with him. By my advice, and against his wish, ‘The Bells’ -was rehearsed, but he did not believe in it much. When he persuaded the -manager to produce ‘The Bells,’ he was told there was a prejudice against -that sort of romantic play. It produced a very poor house, although a -most enthusiastic one. From that time the theatre prospered.” - -Our actor, thus always earnest and persuasive, pressed his point, and -at last extorted consent—and the play, which required scarcely any -mounting, was performed on November 25, 1871. At that time I was living -in the south of France, in a remote and solitary place, and I recollect -the surprise and curiosity with which I heard and read of the powerful -piece that had been produced, and of the more extraordinary triumph of -the new actor. Everyone, according to the well-worn phrase, seemed to be -“electrified.” The story was novel, and likely to excite the profoundest -interest. - -An extraordinary alteration, due, I believe, to the manager, was the -introduction of the vision of the Jew in his sledge, a device unmeaning -and illogical. In the original the morbid remorse of the guilty man is -roused by the visit of a travelling Jew, which very naturally excites his -perturbed spirit. But this vision discounts, as it were, and enfeebles -the _second_ vision. The piece would have been presented under far more -favourable conditions had it been prepared by or adapted by someone of -more skill and delicacy than Mr. Leopold Lewis. - -For twenty years and more this remarkable impersonation has kept its -hold upon audiences, and whenever it is revived for an occasional -performance or for a longer “run,” it never fails to draw full houses; -and so it doubtless will do to the end of the actor’s career. It was his -introduction to the American audiences; and it is likely enough that it -will be the piece in which he will take his farewell. - -The new actor was now becoming a “personality.” Everyone of note -discovered that he was interesting in many ways, and was eager to -know such a man. The accomplished Sir E. Bulwer Lytton wrote that his -performance was “too admirable not to be appreciated by every competent -judge of art,” and added, “that any author would be fortunate who -obtained his assistance in some character that was worthy of his powers.” -A little later the actor took this hint, and was glad to do full justice -to several pieces of this brilliant and gifted writer. - -At this time there was a clever young man “on town” who had furnished -Mr. Vezin with a fine and effective play, ‘The Man o’ Airlie,’ from a -German original. He was a poet of much grace, his lines were musical, and -suited for theatrical delivery; he had been successful as a novelist, and -was, moreover, a portrait-painter in the elegant art of pastel, then but -little practised. In this latter direction it was predicted that he was -likely to win a high position, but the attractions of the stage were too -strong for him. Becoming acquainted with the popular actor, a subject for -a new creation was suggested by his very physique and dreamy style. This -was the story of the unhappy Charles I. Both the manager and the player -welcomed the suggestion, and the dramatist set to work. Though possessed -of true feeling and a certain inspiration, the author was carried away -by his ardour into a neglect of the canons of the stage, writing masses -of poetry of inordinate length, which he brought to his friends at the -theatre, until they at last began to despair. Many changes had to be made -before the poem could be brought into satisfactory shape; and, by aid of -the tact and experience of the manager and his actor, the final act was -at last completed to the satisfaction of all.[9] - -‘Charles I.’ was brought out on September 28, 1872. Having been present -on this night, I can recall the tranquil pleasure and satisfaction and -absorbing interest which this very legitimate and picturesque performance -imparted, while the melodious and poetical lines fell acceptably on the -ear. This tranquil tone contrasted effectively with the recent tumult and -agitation of ‘The Bells.’ It was a perfect success, and the author shared -in the glories. - -Only lately we followed the once popular Wills to his grave in the -Brompton Cemetery. His somewhat erratic and, I fear, troubled course -closed in the month of December, 1891. There was a curious suggestion, -or reminiscence, of his countryman Goldsmith in his character and ways. -Like that great poet, he had a number of “hangers-on” and admirers who -were always welcome to his “bit and sup,” and helped to kill the hours. -If there was no bed there was a sofa. There were stories, too, of a -“piece purse” on the chimney to which people might apply. He had the -same sanguine temperament as Goldsmith, and the slightest opening would -present him with a magnificent prospect, on which his ready imagination -would lavish all sorts of roseate hues. He was always going to make -his fortune, or to make a “great hit.” He had the same heedless way of -talking, making warm and even ardent protestations and engagements which -he could not help forgetting within an hour. But these were amiable -weaknesses. He had a thoroughly good heart, was as sensitive as a woman, -or as _some_ women, affectionate and generous. His life, I fear, was to -the close one of troubles and anxiety. He certainly did much for the -Lyceum, and was our actor’s favourite author. ‘Charles I.,’ ‘Eugene -Aram,’ ‘Olivia,’ ‘Iolanthe,’ ‘Faust,’ ‘Vanderdecken’ (in part), ‘Don -Quixote’—these were his contributions. - -The play was written after the correct and classical French model. The -opening scene, as a bit of pictorial effect—the placid garden of Hampton -Court, with a startling reproduction of Vandyke’s figure—has always been -admired, and furnishes “the note” of the play. All through the actor -presented a spectacle of calm and dignified suffering, that disdained -to resent or protest; some of his pathetic passages, such as the gentle -rebuke to the faithless Huntley and the parting with his children, have -always made the handkerchiefs busy. - -The leading actor was well supported by Miss Isabel Bateman in the -character of the Queen, to which she imparted a good deal of pathetic -feeling and much grace. For many years she was destined to figure in -all the pieces in which he played. This, it need not be said, was of -advantage for the development of her powers. Even a mediocre performer -cannot withstand the inspiration that comes of such companionship; while -constant playing with a really good actor has often made a good actress. -But the manager, who had some odd, native notions of his own, as to -delicacy and the refinements generally, must have rather inconvenienced -or disturbed—to say the least of it—our actor, by giving him as a -coadjutor, in the part of Cromwell, an effective low-comedy actor of -_genre_, in the person of Mr. George Belmore, who did his work with a -conscientious earnestness, but with little colouring or picturesque -effect. On a later occasion he supplied another performer who was yet -more unsuited—viz., the late Mr. John Clayton—who used to open the -night’s proceedings in a light rattling touch-and-go farce, such as -‘A Regular Fix.’ Both these actors, excellent in their line, lacked -the weight and dignified associations necessary for the high school of -tragedy.[10] - -One of those vehement and amusing discussions which occasionally arise -out of a play, and furnish prodigious excitement for the public, was -aroused by the conception taken of Cromwell, which was, in truth, opposed -to tradition; for the Protector was exhibited as willing to condone the -King’s offences, and to desert his party, for the “consideration” of a -marriage between himself and one of the King’s daughters. This ludicrous -view, based on some loose gossip, was, reasonably enough, thought -to degrade Cromwell’s character, and the point was debated with much -fierceness. - -During the “run” of ‘Charles I.’ the successful dramatist was busy -preparing a new poetical piece on the subject of Eugene Aram. It is not -generally known that the author himself dramatized his story. This was -produced on April 19, 1873, but the tone seemed to be too lugubrious, -the actor passing from one mournful soliloquy to another. There was but -little action. The ordinary versions are more effective. But the actor -himself produced a deep, poetical impression. - -The manager, now in the height of success, adopted a style of “bold -advertisement,” that suggested Elliston’s amusing exaggerations.[11] The -piece ran for over one hundred and fifty nights, to May 17, 1873, and -during a portion of the time the versatile player would finish the night -with ‘Jeremy Diddler.’ - -The new season of 1873 began on September 27, with Lord Lytton’s -‘Richelieu.’ It is a tribute to the prowess of that gifted man that -his three pieces—the ever-fresh and fair ‘Lady of Lyons,’ ‘Money,’ and -‘Richelieu’—should be really the only genuine stock-pieces of the modern -stage. They never seem out of fashion, and are always welcomed. It might -be said, indeed, that there is hardly a night on which the ‘Lady of -Lyons’ is not _somewhere_ acted. In ‘Richelieu’ the actor presented a -truly picturesque figure—he was aged, tottering, nervous, but rallying -to full vigour when the occasion called. The well-known scene, where he -invokes “the curse of Rome,” produced extraordinary enthusiasm, cheers, -waving of handkerchiefs, and a general uproar from the pit. It was in -this piece that those “mannerisms” which have been so often “girded -at,” often with much pitilessness, began to attract attention. In this -part, as in the first attempt in ‘Macbeth,’ there was noted a lack of -restraint, something hysterical at times, when control seemed to be set -aside. The truth is, most of his attempts at this period were naturally -_experiments_, and very different from those deliberate, long-prepared, -and well-matured representations he offered under the responsibility of -serious management. - -This piece was succeeded by an original play, ‘Philip,’ by an agreeable -writer who had made a name as a novelist, Mr. Hamilton Aïdé—a dramatic -story of the average pattern, and founded on jealousy. It was produced on -February 7, and enjoyed a fair share of success. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -1874. - -‘HAMLET’—‘OTHELLO’—‘MACBETH’—DEATH OF ‘THE COLONEL’—‘QUEEN MARY.’ - - -But now was to be made a serious experiment, on which much was to depend. -Hitherto Irving had not travelled out of the regions of conventional -drama, or of what might be called romantic melodrama; but he was now -to lay hands on the ark, and attempt the most difficult and arduous of -Shakespearian characters, Hamlet. Every actor has a dream of performing -the character, and fills up his disengaged moments with speculations as -to the interpretation. The vitality of this wonderful play is such that -it nearly always is a novelty for the audience, because the character is -fitfully changeful, and offers innumerable modes of interpretation. - -The momentous trial was made on October 31, 1874. It had long and -studiously been prepared for: and the actor, in his solitary walks -during the days of his provincial servitude, had worked out his formal -conception of the character. There was much curiosity and expectation; -and it was noted that so early as three o’clock in the afternoon a dense -crowd had assembled in the long tunnel that leads from the Strand to -the pit door. I was present in the audience, and can testify to the -excitement. Nothing I have ever seen on the stage, except perhaps the -burst that greeted Sarah Bernhardt’s speech in ‘Phèdre’ on the first -night of the French Comedy in London, has approached the tumult of the -moment when the actor, after the play scene, flung himself into the -King’s chair. - -Our actor judiciously took account of all criticisms, and with later -performances subdued or toned down what was extravagant. The whole gained -in thoughtfulness and in general meditative tone, and it is admitted that -the meaning of the intricate soliloquies could not be more distinctly or -more intelligibly conveyed to an audience. He played a good deal with his -face, as it is called: with smilings of intelligence, as if interested or -amused. But, as a whole, his conception of the character may be said to -remain the same as it was on that night. - -The play was mounted with the favourite economy of the manager, -and contrasted with the unsparing lavishness of decoration which -characterized its later revival. But the actors were good. The sound, -“full-bodied” old Chippendale was Polonius; Swinburne, also of the old -school, was the King; and the worthy Mead, long ago a star himself, -and one of Mr. Phelps’ corps, “discharged” the Ghost with admirable -impression and elocution.[12] He has now passed away, after long service, -to “that bourne,” etc. Miss Bateman was interesting, and Mrs. Pauncefort, -who was till lately at the Lyceum, was an excellent Queen. Actor and -manager expected much success for ‘Hamlet,’ and counted on a run of -eighty nights, but it was performed for two hundred! To the present hour -it has always continued—though sparingly revived—the most interesting of -the actor’s performances, looked for with an intellectual curiosity. - -In March the hundredth night of ‘Hamlet’ was celebrated by a banquet, -given in the saloon of the Lyceum Theatre, at which all the critics and -literary persons connected with the stage were present. This method of -festivity has since become familiar enough, owing to the never-flagging -hospitality of the later manager of the Lyceum, and offers a striking -contrast to the older days, when it was intimated that “_chicken and -champagne_” was a ready method of propitiating the critics. Mr. Pigott, -who had recently been appointed the Licenser of Plays, a man of many -friends, from his amiability—now, alas! gone from us—proposed the health -of the lessee, which was followed by the health of the actor and of the -author of the establishment, the latter, as it was rather sarcastically -said, “giving the hundred and odd literary men present the oft-repeated -illustration of how far apart are authorship and oratory.” The good old -Chippendale told how he had played Polonius to the Hamlet of Kemble, -Kean, Young, and other famous tragedians; but protested that “the most -natural and, to his mind, the most truthful representation he had seen -was that of his friend here.” Something must be allowed for post-prandial -exuberance, and no one could more shrewdly appreciate their value than -the actor himself. We may be certain that in his “heart of heart” he did -not agree that he had excelled Kemble, Kean, Young, and the others. It -was interesting, however, to meet such histrionic links with the past, -which are now broken. Mr. Howe is perhaps the only person now surviving -who could supply reminiscences of the kind. - -A second Shakespearian piece was now determined on, and on February 14, -1875, ‘Othello’ was brought out. This, it was admitted, was not a very -effective performance. It was somewhat hysterical, and in his agitation -the actor exhibited movements almost panther-like, with many strange and -novel notes. The ascetic face, too, was not in harmony with the dusky -lineaments of ‘the Moor.’ Here, again, his notion of the character was -immature. - -In the full tide of all this prosperity, theatre-goers were startled to -learn that the shrewd and capable manager, the energetic “old Colonel,” -as he was styled by his friends, was dead. This event occurred, with -great suddenness, on Monday, March 22, 1875. On the Sunday he had been -at a banquet at a Pall Mall restaurant in company with his leading actor -and other friends, but on the next day, complaining of a headache, he lay -down. His daughter went as usual to the theatre, to which word was soon -brought that he had passed away peacefully. It was thought advisable to -let the performance be completed, and the strange coincidence was noted -that while his child was bewailing the loss of her theatrical sire, the -old Polonius, she was unconscious of the blow which had deprived her of -her real parent. - -There was much speculation as to what arrangement would follow, and -some surprise when it was announced that the widow was ready to step -intrepidly into his place, and carry on matters exactly as before. The -mainstay of the house was ready to support her, and though bound by -his engagement, he would, had he been so inclined, have found it easy -to dissolve it, or make it impracticable. He resolved to lend his best -efforts to support the undertaking, in which his views would, of course, -prevail. It was hardly a prudent arrangement, as the result proved, for -the three years that followed were scarcely advantageous to his progress. -The management was to be of a thrifty kind, without boldness, and lacking -the shrewd, safe instincts of the late manager; while the actor had the -burden, without the freedom, of responsibility. It struck some that the -excellent Mrs. Bateman was “insisting” somewhat too much upon the family -element. The good-hearted, busy, and managing lady was in truth unsuited -to bear the burden of a great London theatre, and what woman could be? -her views were hardly “large” enough, and too old-fashioned. The public -was not slow to find all this out, and the fortunes of the theatre -began almost at once to change. Our actor, ambitious, and encouraged by -plaudits, was eager to essay new parts; and the manageress, entirely -dependent on his talent, was naturally anxious to gratify him. Here it -was that the deliberation of the “old Colonel” became valuable. He would -debate a question, examine it from all points, feel the public pulse, and -this rational conduct influenced his coadjutor. Irving was, in truth, in -a false position. - -‘Macbeth’ was speedily got ready, and produced on September 18, 1875. -Miss Bateman, of Leah fame, was the Lady Macbeth, but the performance -scarcely added to her reputation. The actor, as may be conceived, was -scarcely then suited, by temperament or physique, to the part, and by a -natural instinct made it conform to his own particular qualifications. -His conception was that of a dreamy, shrinking being, overwhelmed with -terrors and remorse, speaking in whispers, and enfeebled by his own -dismal ruminations. There was general clamour and fierce controversy -over this reading, for by this time the sympathetic powers of the player -had begun to exercise their attraction. He had a large and passionately -enthusiastic following; but there were Guelphs and Ghibellines, -Irvingites and anti-Irvingites—the latter a scornful and even derisive -faction. I could fancy some of the old school, honest “Jack” Ryder, for -instance, as they patrolled the Strand at mid-day, expatiating on the -folly of the public: “Call _him_ an actor!” Some of them had played with -Macready, “and _they_ should think they knew pretty well what acting -was!” This resentful tone has been evoked again and again with every new -actor.[13] - -Objection was taken to the uncertainty in the touches; the figure did -not “stand out” so much as it ought. Much of this, however, was owing -to the lack of effect in the Lady Macbeth, who, assuming hoarse and -“charnel-house” tones, seemed to suggest something of Meg Merrilies. On -the later revival, however, his interpretation became bold, firm, and -consistent. The play had, however, a good deal of attraction, and was -played for some eighty nights. - -The King in Tennyson’s play-poem, ‘Queen Mary,’ I have always thought -one of the best, most picturesque, of Irving’s impersonations, from the -realization it offered of the characters, impressions, feelings, of what -he represented: it was complete in every point of view. As regards its -length, it might be considered trifling; but it became important because -of the _largeness_ of the place it fitted. Profound was the impression -made by the actor’s Philip—not by what he had to say, which was little, -or by what he had to do, which was less, or by the dress or “make-up,” -which was remarkable. He seemed to speak by the expression of his figure -and glances; and apart from the meaning of his spoken words, there was -another meaning beyond—viz., the character, the almost diseased solitude, -the heartless indifference, and other odious historical characteristics -of the Prince, with which it was plain the actor had filled himself. Mr. -Whistler’s grim, antique portrait conveys this perfectly. - -His extraordinary success was now to rouse the jealousy, and even -malignity, which followed his course in his earlier days, and was not -unaccompanied with coarse ridicule and caricature, directed against -the actor’s legs even. “Do you know,” said a personage of Whistlerian -principles—“do you know, it seems to me there is a great deal of _pathos_ -in Irving’s legs, particularly in the _left_ leg!” - -A letter had appeared, in January, 1876, in _Fun_, the _Punch_ of the -middle and lower class, addressed to “The Fashionable Tragedian.” It -affected alarm at the report that, “so soon as the present failure -can with dignity be withdrawn,” he intended to startle the public and -Shakespearian scholars with ‘Othello.’ In the name of that humanity -“to which, in spite of your transcendent abilities, you cannot help -belonging,” he was entreated to forbear, if only for the sake of order -and morality. “With the hireling fashion of the press at your command, -you have induced the vulgar and unthinking to consider you a model of -histrionic ability.” In the course of the investigation the article was -traced to a writer who has since become popular as a dramatist, and who, -as might be expected, has furnished a fair proportion of murders and -other villainies to the stage. What was behind the attack it would be -difficult to say; but there are people to whom sudden unexpected success -is a subject of irritation. Just as hypocrisy is the homage paid to vice, -so it may be that the attacks of this kind are some of the penalties that -have to be paid for success. - -When the theatre closed in 1876, the indefatigable manageress organized -a tour of the company in the provinces, with the view of introducing the -new tragedian to country audiences. There was, as may be conceived, a -prodigious curiosity to see him, and the tour was very successful. She -brought to the task her usual energy and spirit of organization; though -with so certain an attraction, the tour, like a good piece, might be said -to “play itself,” on the principle of _ma femme et cinq poupées_. I can -recall the image of the busy lady on one of these nights at Liverpool or -Birmingham, seated in her office, surrounded by papers, the play going -on close by, the music of a house crowded to overflowing being borne -to her ears. There was here the old Nickleby flavour, and a primitive, -homely spirit that contrasts oddly with the present brilliant system of -“touring,” which must be “up to date,” as it is called, and supported by -as much lavishness and magnificence as is expected in the Metropolis. -After the piece came the pleasant little supper at the comfortable -lodgings. - -On this occasion he was to receive the first of those intellectual -compliments which have since been paid him by most of the leading -Universities. At Dublin he excited much enthusiasm among the professors -and students of Trinity College. He was invited to receive an address -from both Fellows and students, which was presented by Lord Ashbourne, -lately Lord Chancellor of Ireland, then a Queen’s Counsel. This was -conceived in the most flattering and complimentary terms. - -About this time there arrived in England the Italian actor Salvini, of -great reputation in his own country. He presented himself at Drury Lane, -then a great, dilapidated “Dom-Daniel” stored with ancient scenery, -wardrobes, and nearly always associated with disaster. In its chilling -area, and under these depressing conditions, he exhibited a very original -and dramatic conception of the Moor, chiefly marked by Southern fire -and passion. The earlier performances were sad to witness, owing to the -meagre attendance, but soon enthusiasm was kindled. It was likely that -mean natures, who had long resented the favour enjoyed by the English -actor, should here see an opportunity of setting up a rival, and of -diminishing, if possible, his well-earned popularity. Comparisons of a -rather offensive kind were now freely made, and the next manœuvre was -to industriously spread reports that the English actor was stung by an -unworthy jealousy, that the very presence of the Italian was torture to -him, and that he would not even go to see his performance. These reports -were conveyed to the Italian, who was naturally hurt, and stood coldly -aloof. The matter being thus inflamed, Irving, himself deeply resenting -the unjust imputation made on him, felt it would be undignified to seek -to justify himself for offences that he had not committed. Everyone knows -that during a long course of years no foreign actor has visited the -Lyceum without experiencing, not merely the lavish hospitality of its -manager, but a series of thoughtful kindnesses and services. But in the -present case there were unfortunately disturbing influences at work. - -Indeed, as the actor day by day rose in public estimation, the flood -of caricatures, skits, etc., never relaxed. He could afford to smile -contemptuously at these efforts, and after a time they ceased to appear. -The tide was too strong to be resisted, and the lampooners even were -constrained to join in the general eulogy.[14] At one of them he must -himself have been amused—a pamphlet which dealt with his mannerisms and -little peculiarities in a very unsparing way. It was illustrated with -some malicious but clever sketches, dealing chiefly with the favourite -topic of the “legs.” My friend Mr. William Archer, who has since become a -critic of high position, about this time also wrote a pamphlet in which -he examined the actor’s claims with some severity. Yet so judicial was -the spirit of this inquiry, that I fancy the subject of it could not have -been offended by it, owing to some compliments which seemed to be, as it -were, extorted by the actor’s merit. - -The new Lyceum season opened with yet one more play of -Shakespeare’s—‘Richard III.’ As might have been expected, he put aside -the old, well-established Cibberian version, a most effective piece of -its kind, and restored the pure, undiluted text of the Bard, to the -gratification, it need not be said, of all true critics and cultivated -persons. It was refreshing to assist at this intellectual feast, and to -follow the original arrangement, which had all the air of novelty.[15] - -A happily-selected piece was to follow, the old melodrama of ‘The Courier -of Lyons,’ which was brought out on May 19, 1877, under a new title, ‘The -Lyons Mail.’ The success of ‘The Bells’ had shown that for a certain -class of romantic melodramas the actor had exceptional gifts; and it may -be added that he has a _penchant_ for portraying characters of common -life under exciting and trying circumstances. This play is an admirable -specimen of French workmanship. The characters are marked, distinct, -amusing; every passage seems to add strength to the interest, and with -every scene the interest seems to grow. The original title—‘The Courier -of Lyons’—seems a more rational one than ‘The Lyons Mail.’ - -With pieces of this kind, where one actor plays two characters, a nice -question of dramatic propriety arises, viz., to how far the point of -likeness should be carried. In real life no two persons could be so alike -as a single person, thus playing the two characters, would be to himself. -The solution I believe to be this, that likenesses of this kind, which -are recognised even under disguise, are rather mental and intellectual, -and depend on peculiar expression—a glance from the eye, smiles, etc. -Irving, it must be said, contrived just so much likeness in the two -characters as suited the situations and the audience also. Superficially -there was a resemblance, but he suggested the distinct individualities in -the proper way. The worthy Lesurques was destined to be one of his best -characters, from the way in which he conveyed the idea of the tranquil, -innocent merchant, so affectionate to his family, and so blameless in -life. Many will recall the pleasant, smiling fashion in which he would -listen to the charges made against him. - -A yet bolder experiment was now to be made, and another piece in which -Charles Kean made a reputation, ‘Louis XI.,’ was brought out on March -9, 1878. It may be said without hesitation that this is one of the most -powerful, finished, and elaborate of all Irving’s efforts, and the one to -which we would bring, say, a foreign actor who desired to see a specimen -of the actor’s talents. - -This marvellous performance has ripened and improved year by year, -gaining in suggestion, fulness of detail, and perfect ease. In no other -part is he so completely the character. There is a pleasant good-humour—a -chuckling cunning—an air of indifference, as though it were not worth -while to be angry or excited about things. His figure is a picture, and -his face, wonderfully transformed, yet seems to owe scarcely anything -to the ‘making-up.’ Nowhere does he speak so much with his expressive -features. You see the cunning thought rising to the surface before the -words. There is the hypocritical air of candour or frankness suddenly -assumed, to conceal some villainous device. There is the genuine -enjoyment of hypocrisy, and the curious shambling walk. How admirably -graduated, too, the progress of decay and mortal sickness, with the -resistance to their encroachments. The portrait of his Richard—not -the old-established, roaring, stamping Richard of the stage, but the -weightier and more composed and refined—dwells long on the memory, -especially such touches as his wary watchings, looking from one to the -other while they talk, as if cunningly striving to probe their thoughts; -that curious scraping of his cheek with the finger, the strange senile -tones, the sudden sharp ferocity betokening the ingrained wickedness, and -the special leer, as though the old fox were in high good humour. - -Irving naturally recalls with pleasure any spontaneous and unaffected -tributes which his acting has called forth. A most flattering one is -associated with ‘Louis XI.’—a critical work which one of his admirers -had specially printed, and which enforced the actor’s view of Louis’s -character. “You will wonder,” the author said, “why we wrote and compiled -this book. A critic had said that, as nothing was really known of -the character, manners, etc., of Louis XI., an actor might take what -liberties he pleased with the subject. We prepared this little volume -to put on record a refutation of the statement, a protest against it, -and a tribute to your impersonation of the character.” Another admirer -had printed his various thoughts on Charles I. This was set off with -beautifully-executed etchings, tailpieces, etc., and the whole richly -bound and enshrined in a casket. The names of these enthusiasts are not -given.[16] - -A few years before this time Wagner’s weird opera, ‘The Flying Dutchman,’ -had been performed in London, and the idea had occurred to many, and -not unnaturally, that here was a character exactly suited to Irving’s -methods. He was, it was often repeated, the “ideal” Vanderdecken. He -himself much favoured the suggestion, and after a time the “Colonel” -entrusted me and my friend Wills with the task of preparing a piece -on the subject. For various reasons the plan was laid aside, and the -death of the manager and the adoption of other projects interfered. It -was, however, never lost sight of, and after an interval I got ready -the first act, which so satisfied Irving that the scheme was once more -taken up. After many attempts and shapings and re-shapings, the piece -was at last ready—Wills having undertaken the bulk of the work, I myself -contributing, as before, the first act. The actor himself furnished some -effective situations, notably the strange and original suggestion of the -Dutchman’s being cast up on the shore and restored to life by the waves. - -I recall all the pleasant incidents of this venture, the journeys to -Liverpool and Birmingham to consult on the plot and read the piece; above -all, the company of the always agreeable Irving himself, and his placid, -unaffected gaiety. Indeed, to him apply forcibly the melodious lines— - - “A merrier man, - Within the limits of becoming mirth, - I never spent an hour withal.” - -‘Vanderdecken,’ as it was called, was produced on July 8, 1878, but was -found of too sombre a cast to attract. It was all, as Johnson once said, -“inspissated gloom,” but there was abundant praise for the picturesque -figure of the actor. Nothing could be more effective than his first -appearance, when he was revealed standing in a shadowy way beside the -sailors, who had been unconscious of his presence. This was his own -subtle suggestion. A fatal blemish was the unveiling of the picture, -on the due impressiveness of which much depended, and which proved to -be a sort of grotesque daub, greeted with much tittering—a fatal piece -of economy on the part of the worthy manageress. An unusually sultry -spell of summer that set in caused “the booking to go all to pieces”—the -box-keeper’s consolatory expression. Our actor, however, has not lost -faith in the subject to this hour, and a year or two later he encouraged -me to make another attempt; while Miss Terry has been always eager to -attempt the heroine, in which she is confident of producing a deep -impression. - -At this time our actor’s position was a singular one. It had occurred -to many that there was something strange and abnormal in the spectacle -of the most conspicuous performer of his time, the one who “drew” most -money of all his contemporaries, being under the direction of a simple, -excellent lady, somewhat old-fashioned in her ideas, and in association -with a mediocre company and economical appointments. There was here -power clearly going to waste. It soon became evident that his talents -were heavily fettered, and that he had now attained a position which, -to say the least, was inconsistent with such surroundings. His own -delicacy of feeling, and a sense of old obligation, which, however, was -really slender enough, had long restrained him; but now, on the advice -of friends, and for the sake of his own interests, he felt that matters -could go on no longer, and that the time had arrived for making some -serious change. The balancing of obligations is always a delicate matter, -but it may be said that in such cases quite as much is returned as is -received. The successful manager may “bring forward” the little-known -actor, but the little-known actor in return brings fortune to the manager. - -The situation was, in fact, a false one. Where was he to find an opening -for those sumptuous plans and artistic developments for which the public -was now ripe, and which he felt that he, and he alone, could supply? -The breach, however, was only the occasion of the separation which must -inevitably have come later. As it was, he had suggested a change in stage -companionship: the attraction of the “leading lady,” with whom he had -been so long associated, was not, he thought, sufficient to assist or -inspire his own. As this arrangement was declined, he felt compelled to -dissolve the old partnership. - -It presently became known that the popular player was free, and ready -to carry out the ambitious and even magnificent designs over which he -had so long pondered. The moment was propitious. Except the little -Prince of Wales’s, there was no theatre in London that was conducted in -liberal or handsome style, and no manager whose taste or system was of -a large or even dignified sort. Everything was old-fashioned, meagre, -and mercantile. Everything seemed in a state of languor and decay. No -one thought of lavish and judicious outlay, the best economy in the end. -There was really but one on whom all eyes now instinctively rested as the -only person who by temperament and abilities was fitted to restore the -drama, and present it worthily, in accordance with the growing luxurious -instinct of the time. - -It was a rude shock for the manageress when this resolution was -communicated to her. The loss of her actor also involved the loss of her -theatre. She might have expostulated, with Shylock: - - “You take my house, when you do take the prop - That doth sustain my house.” - -It followed therefore, almost as a matter of course, that the theatre, -without any exertion on his part, would, as it were, drop into his hands. -He at once prepared to carry out his venture on the bold and sumptuous -lines which have since made his reputation. The poor lady naturally -fancied that she had a grievance; but her complaint ought in truth to -have been directed against the hard fate which had placed her in a -position that was above her strength.[17] With much gallantry and energy -she set herself to do battle with fortune in a new and lower sphere. She -secured the old theatre at Islington, which she partially rebuilt and -beautified, and on the opening night was encouraged by a gathering of -her old friends, who cheered her when she appeared, supported by her two -faithful daughters. Even this struggle she could not carry on long. She -took with her some of her old company, Bentley, the Brothers Lyons, and -others, and she furnished melodramas, brought out in a somewhat rude but -effective style, suited to the lieges of the district. Later Mr. Charles -Warner, greatly daring, gave a whole course of Shakespearian characters, -taking us through the great characters _seriatim_. It was indeed a very -astonishing programme. But the truth was, she had fallen behind the -times; the old-fashioned country methods would no longer “go down.” In -a few years she gave up the weary struggle, and, quite worn-out, passed -away to join the “old Colonel.” - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -1878. - -THE NEW MANAGER OF THE LYCEUM—MISS TERRY—HIS SYSTEM AND ASSISTANTS. - - -The Lyceum was designed by a true architect at a time when a great -theatre was considered to be a building or monument, like a public -gallery or museum. In these days little is thought of but the _salle_ -or interior, designed to hold vast audiences in galleries or shelves, -and laid out much like a dissenting chapel. The Lyceum is really a fine -structure, with entrances in four different streets, an imposing portico, -abundance of saloons, halls, chambers, and other _dependances_, which -are necessary in all good theatres. There is a special grace in its -lobby and saloon, and in the flowing lines of the interior, though they -have suffered somewhat from unavoidable alterations.[18] The stage is a -truly noble one, and offers the attraction of supplying a dignity and -theatrical illusion to the figures or scenes that are exhibited upon -it; thus contrasting with the rather mean and prosaic air which the -stages of most modern houses offer. This dignified effect is secured at -a heavy cost to the manager, for every extra foot multiplies the area of -scenery to a costly degree, and requires many figures to fill the void. -Beazely, a pleasant humorist and writer of some effective dramas, was -the architect of this fine temple, as also of the well-designed Dublin -Theatre, since destroyed by fire.[19] - -It may be imagined that the financial portion of the transaction could -have offered little difficulty. A man of such reputation inspires -confidence; and there are always plenty ready to come forward and support -him in his venture, his abilities being the security. A story was long -industriously circulated that he was indebted to the generosity of a -noble lady well known for her wealth and liberality, who had actually -“presented him with the lease of the theatre.” The truth, however, -was that Irving entirely relied on his own resources. According to a -statement which he found it necessary to have circulated, he borrowed -a sum of money on business terms, which he was enabled to pay off -gradually, partly out of profits, and partly out of a substantial legacy. -His first repayments were made out of the gains of his provincial tour. - -The new manager’s first effort was to gather round him an efficient and -attractive company. It became presently known that Miss Ellen Terry was -to be his partner and supporter on the stage, and it was instantly, and -almost electrically, felt that triumph had been already secured. People -could see in advance, in their mind’s eye, the gifted pair performing -together in a series of romantic plays; they could hear the voices -blending, and feel the glow of dramatic enjoyment. This important step -was heartily and even uproariously acclaimed. No manager ever started on -his course cheered by such tokens of goodwill and encouragement, though -much of this was owing to a natural and selfish anticipation of coming -enjoyment. - -The new actress, a member of a gifted family, was endowed with one of -those magnetically sympathetic natures, the rarest and most precious -quality a performer can have. It may be said to be “twice blessed,” -blessing both him that gives and him that takes—actor and audience. She -had a winning face, strangely expressive, even to her tip-tilted nose, -“the Terry nose,” and piquant, irregular chin; with a nervous, sinuous -figure, and a voice charged with melodious, heart-searching accents. -She indeed merely transferred to the stage that curious air of fitful -_enjouement_ which distinguished her among her friends, which often thus -supplied to her performances much that was unfamiliar to the rest of the -audience. She had, in short, a most marked _personality_. - -I possess a rare and possibly unique bill of one of Miss Ellen Terry’s -earliest child-performances, which it may be interesting to insert here: - - LECTURE HALL, CROYDON. - - FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY! - - _Tuesday Evening, March 13th, 1860._ - - MISS KATE TERRY - - AND - - MISS ELLEN TERRY, - - The original representatives of Ariel, Cordelia, Arthur, Puck, - etc. (which characters were acted by them upwards of one - hundred consecutive nights, and also before her Most Gracious - Majesty the Queen), at the Royal Princess’s Theatre, when under - the management of Mr. Charles Kean, will present their new and - successful - - ILLUSTRATIVE AND MUSICAL - - DRAWING-ROOM ENTERTAINMENT, - - In Two Parts, entitled - - ‘DISTANT RELATIONS,’ AND ‘HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS,’ - - In which they will sustain several - - CHARACTERS IN FULL COSTUME. - - N.B.—This entertainment was produced at the Royal Colosseum, - and represented by the Misses Kate and Ellen Terry thirty - consecutive nights to upwards of 30,000 persons— - -and so on. - -In ‘Home for the Holidays,’ the burden seems to have been cast on Ellen -Terry, who performed ‘Hector Melrose, a slight specimen of the rising -generation.’ - -In her rather fitful course, Ellen Terry[20] had gone on the stage, -left it, and had gone on it again. Her performance at the Prince of -Wales’s Theatre, the little home of comedy, in the piece of ‘Masks -and Faces,’ had left a deep impression, and I well recall the sort of -passionate intensity she put into the part. It must be said that there -was some uncertainty as to how she was likely to acquit herself in the -very important round of characters now destined for her; but her friends -and admirers were confident that her natural dramatic instincts and -quick ability, together with the inspiration furnished by so powerful a -coadjutor, would supply all deficiencies. And these previsions were to -be amply justified. But it was the sympathetic, passionate, and touching -performance of Olivia in Mr. Wills’s version of ‘The Vicar of Wakefield’ -that had lately drawn all eyes to her. It was felt that here was an -actress possessing “distinction” and original power. A series of these -performances at the Court Theatre, under Mr. Hare’s management, had added -to her reputation. - -For the opening of his theatre, the new manager did not much care -to engage actors of mark, relying on a few sound but unpretentious -performers, such as the late Mead, Swinburne, and others.[21] On his -visits to Dublin, the new manager had met a clever, ardent young man, who -had taken share in the flattering honours offered by Trinity College. -This was the now well-known Bram Stoker, whose geniality, good-nature, -and tact were to be of much service to the enterprise. A short time -before he was in one of the public offices in Dublin; he was now offered -the post of director of the theatre, or “business-manager,” as it is -technically called. Mr. H. Loveday had been stage-manager under the -Bateman dynasty, and was continued in his office. This gentleman is -really _hors ligne_ in this walk, being quick of resource, firm, even -despotic where need requires it, and eke genial and forbearing too. The -wonderful and ambitious development at the Lyceum has drawn on all his -resources, equipping him with an experience which few stage-managers -have opportunities of acquiring. When, as during the performance of -‘Henry VIII.,’ a crowd of over five hundred persons passes through the -stage-door of the Lyceum, a stage-manager must needs have gifts of -control of a high order to maintain discipline and direct his forces. -And who does not know the sagacious and ever-obliging Hurst, who has -controlled the box-office for many a year! - -This proper selection of officials is all-important in an enterprise of -this kind. Where they are well chosen, they help to bind the public to -the house. It is well known that our manager is well skilled in reading -the book of human character, and has rarely made a mistake in choosing -his followers. On their side, they have always shown much devotion to the -interests of their chief. - -Not the least important of these assistants is an accomplished artist, -Mr. Hawes Craven, the painter of the scenery, the deviser of the many -elaborate settings and tableaux which have for so long helped to enrich -the Lyceum plays. The modern methods of scenery now require an almost -architectural knowledge and skill, from the “built-up” structures which -are found necessary, the gigantic portals and porticoes of cathedrals, -houses, squares, and statues. Monumental constructions of all kinds are -contrived, the details, carvings, etc., being modelled or wrought in -_papier-mâché_ material. It may be doubted whether this system really -helps stage illusion as it affects to do, or whether more sincere -dramatic effects would not be gained by simpler and less laboured -methods. To Mr. Craven, too, we owe the development of what is the -“medium” principle—the introduction of atmosphere, of phantasmagoric -lights of different tones, which are more satisfactory than the same -tones when produced by ordinary colours. The variety of the effects thus -produced has been extraordinary. As might be expected, the artistic -instincts of the manager have here come in aid of the painter, who with -much readiness and versatility has been ready to seize on the idea and -give it practical shape by his craft.[22] - -Mr. Craven, years ago, practised his art on the boards of the old Dublin -Theatre Royal, under Mr. Harris, where his scenery attracted attention -for its brilliancy and originality. His scenes had the breadth and effect -of rich water-colour drawings, somewhat of the Prout school. Scenic -effect is now seriously interfered with by the abundant effulgence of -light in which the stage is bathed, and in which the delicate middle -tints are quite submerged. The contrast, too, with moulded work is -damaging, and causes the painted details to have a “poorish,” flat air. -Another point to which much prominence had been given from the first at -the Lyceum is the music. A fine and full orchestra—on an operatic scale -almost—with excellent conductors, who were often composers of reputation, -was provided. This rich and melodious entertainment sets off the play -and adds to its dignity, and may be contrasted with the meagre music -ordinarily provided in theatres. - -Once, travelling in the North, the manager met at a hotel a young -musician who, like himself, “was on tour,” with some concert party -it might be, and fell into conversation with him on their respective -professions. This young man chatted freely, and imparted his ideas on -music in general, and on theatre music in particular. The manager was -pleased with the freshness and practical character of these views, -and both went their way. Long after, when thinking of a successor to -Stöpel—the old-established Lyceum conductor—he recalled this agreeable -companion, who was Mr. Hamilton Clarke, and engaged him, at the handsome -salary of some six hundred a year, to direct the music. He was, moreover, -a composer of great distinction. His fine, picturesque overtures and -incidental music to ‘The Merchant of Venice,’ and other Lyceum pieces, -still linger in the memory. It is to be lamented that this connection was -severed. The manager has later applied for aid to such composers as Sir -Arthur Sullivan, Sir A. Mackenzie, Sir Julius Benedict, Stanford, Jacobi, -and Mr. German. - -When he was thus busy with preparations for inaugurating his new -ambitious venture, he had engagements to fulfil in the country, and -could only rush up to town occasionally to push on the preparations. -He tells us how, having secured a new Horatio, a “modern young actor,” -as he called him, whom he had never seen perform, he came up to town -especially to hear him go through his part. After reading it over for him -in the way he desired it to be done, Irving said, “Now you try it; I will -be the Ghost.” “So he began, and what a surprise it was! As Horatio he -apostrophized me in the most cool, familiar, drawing-room, conventional -style possible to imagine. I was aghast, ‘No, no,’ I cried. ‘Stop, -consider the situation, its thrills of horror, the supernatural!’ ‘Oh, -yes,’ he replied, ‘but how am I to do it?’ ‘Can’t you understand it?’ -I said; ‘try again.’ He did still the same again and again. There was -nothing to be done but engage another performer.” - -Anticipating a little, I may say here that the Lyceum company, though -not affecting to contain any brilliant “stars,” has from the beginning -exhibited a true homogeneousness in those sound conscientious actors who -have always “discharged” their characters in an effective way, suited -to the requirements of the piece. With a certain logical consistency, -the manager has ever considered the requirements of his audience and the -theatre. The attraction, it was understood, was to be the two leading -performers, who were to stand, as it were, before a well-studied, -well-composed background. The subsidiary characters, it was felt, should -set off the leading characters. The introduction of Mrs. Stirling, an -actress of the first rank, in such a part as the Nurse, however welcome -as a performance, almost disturbed the dramatic harmony, and made an -inferior part too prominent. This may seem hypercritical, but there can -be no doubt as to its truth, and it shows what tact is necessary to -secure an even performance. Those members of the corps who have been with -him almost from the beginning, the manager has thoroughly leavened with -his own methods and his own spirit, thus securing a general harmony. Such -useful auxiliaries include Johnson (a low comedian of the older school), -Tyers, Archer (another low comedian), Haviland (a most useful performer, -who improves with every year), and Andrews. Another serviceable player -was Wenman, who seemed in physique and method to be exactly suited to -Burchell in ‘Olivia.’ During the past seasons, however, this worthy man -has been removed from the company by death. On a stranger these players -might produce little effect; but the _habitués_ of the theatre have grown -familiar with their ways and faces and figures, and would miss them much -were they absent from a new play. - -In addition to this permanent body, the manager is accustomed -occasionally to call to his aid performers of mark, such as Terriss and -Forbes Robertson, the former an admirable actor in special characters -that are suited to his robustness, though his powers would gain by some -refining. Forbes Robertson is a picturesque performer of many resources, -who can supply colour and passion at need. He has a fair share of what -is called “distinction”; indeed, we wonder that his position has not ere -this become more fixed and certain. But this rests on a deeper question, -and is connected with the conditions of the stage at this moment, when -the only course open to the player is to become a “manager-actor,” and -have his own theatre, otherwise he must wander from house to house. -Arthur Stirling and Macklin—excellent, well-trained actors both—have -been found at the Lyceum, as also Mr. Bishop. Of the ladies there are -Miss Genevieve Ward, the excellent Mrs. Pauncefort (of the school of -Mrs. Chippendale), Miss Coleridge, occasionally the vivacious Miss -Kate Phillips, and Miss Emery, who takes Miss Terry’s place in case of -indisposition or fatigue. - -The new manager made some decorative alterations in the theatre which, -considering the little time at his disposal, did credit to his taste -and promptitude. The auditorium was treated in sage green and turquoise -blue; the old, familiar “cameos” of Madame Vestris’s day, ivory tint, -were still retained, while the hangings were of blue silk, trimmed -with amber and gold, with white lace curtains. The ceiling was of pale -blue and gold. The stalls were upholstered in blue, “a special blue” -it was called; escaloped shells were used to shield the glare of the -footlights. The dressing-rooms of the performers, the Royal box, and -Lady Burdett-Coutts’ box were all handsomely decorated and re-arranged, -the whole being directed by Mr. A. Darbyshire, a Manchester architect. -This, however, was but the beginning of a long series of structural -alterations, additions, and costly decorations, pursued over a term of a -little over a dozen years. - -On Monday, December 30, 1878, the theatre was opened with the revived -‘Hamlet.’ This was the first of those glittering nights—_premières_—which -have since become a feature of a London season. From the brilliancy -of the company—which usually includes all that is notable in the arts -and professions—as well as from the rich dresses, jewels, and flowers, -which suggest the old opera nights, the spectacle has become one of -extraordinary interest, and invitations are eagerly sought. Here are seen -the regular _habitués_, who from the first have been always invited: for -the constancy of the manager to his old friends is well known. - -The play was given with new scenery, dresses, music, etc. The aim was to -cast over the whole a poetical and dreamy glamour, which was exhibited -conspicuously in the treatment of the opening scenes when the Ghost -appeared. There were the mysterious battlements seen at a distance, -shadowy walls, and the cold blue of breaking day. There were fine halls, -with arches and thick pillars of Norman pattern. Irving’s version of the -part was in the main the same as before, but it was noted that he had -moderated it, as it were; it became more thoughtful. - -Of course, much interest and speculation was excited by the new actress, -who exhibited all her charming grace and winsomeness, with a tender -piteousness, when the occasion called. “Why,” she told an interviewer, -“I am so high strung on a first night that if I realized there was -an audience in front staring at me, I should fly off and be _down at -Winchester in two twos_!” On this momentous night of trial she thought -she had completely failed, and without waiting for the fifth act she -flung herself into the arms of a friend, repeating, “I have failed, I -have failed!” She drove up and down the Embankment half a dozen times -before she found courage to go home. - -This successful inauguration of his venture was to bear fruit in a long -series of important pieces, each produced with all the advantages that -unsparing labour, good taste, study, and expense could supply. Who could -have dreamed, or did _he_ dream on that night? that no fewer than nine -of Shakespeare’s greatest plays, a liberal education for audiences, -were destined to be his contribution to “the public stock of harmless -pleasure”? Every one of taste is under a serious obligation to him, -having consciously or unconsciously learnt much from this accomplished -man. - -On this occasion, adopting a custom since always adhered to, the manager -had his arrangement of the play printed, with an introduction by a good -Shakespearian student, who was destined to be a well-known figure in -the _entourage_ of the Lyceum. Albeit a little _tête montée_, “Frank -Marshall,” with his excited, bustling ways, and eccentric exterior, seems -now to be missed. He was always _bon enfant_. He had written one very -pleasing comedy, ‘False Shame,’ and was also rated as a high authority -on all Shakespearian matters. He published an elaborate _Study of -Hamlet_, and later induced Irving to join him in an ambitious edition of -Shakespeare, which has recently been completed. He was also a passionate -bibliomaniac, though not a very judicious one, lacking the necessary -restraint and judgment. He had somewhat of a troubled course, like so -many a London _littérateur_. - -At this time the average theatrical criticism, from lack of suitable -stimulant to excite it, was not nearly so discriminating as it is now, -when there is a body of well-trained, capable men, who sign their names -and carry out their duty with much independence. It is extraordinary what -a change has taken place. At the opening of Irving’s management there was -certainly a tendency to wholesale and lavish panegyric. Not unnaturally, -too, for all were grateful to one who was making such exertion to -restore the stage to elegance. Some of the ordinary newspapers, however, -overwhelmed him with their rather tedious, indiscriminate praises; it -seemed as though too much could not be said. There is no praise where -_everything_ is praised; nor is such very acceptable to its object. A -really candid discussion on the interpretation of a character, with -reasonable objections duly made, and argued out with respect, and -suggestions put forward—this becomes of real profit to the performer. -Thus in one single short criticism on a character of Garrick’s—he was -once playing a gentleman disguised as a valet—Johnson has furnished not -only Garrick, but all players too, with an invaluable principle which is -the foundation of all acting: “No, sir; he does not let the gentleman -break out through the footman.” - -A new play at the Lyceum is rarely concluded without a speech being -insisted upon. Irving himself has favoured this practice, but -reluctantly, yielding only to the irresistible pressure of ardent and -clamorous admirers. The system now obtains at every theatre where there -is an “actor-manager.” But there can be no question but that it is -an abuse, and a perilous one. It encourages a familiarity, and often -insolence, which shakes authority. The manager, when he makes his speech, -seems to invite the galleries down on to his stage, and it is to be -noticed that the denizens of these places are growing bolder, and fancy, -not unreasonably, that they are entitled to have _their_ speech, as the -manager has his.[23] - -The manager has been always guided by the principle of alternating -his greater attempts with others on a more moderate and less -pretentious scale. With this view he brought out, on April 17, 1879, -the ever-attractive ‘Lady of Lyons’—which would seem naturally suited -to him and his companion. He was himself in sympathy with the piece, -and prepared it on the most romantic and picturesque lines. It has -been usually presented in a stagey, declamatory fashion, as affording -opportunity to the two leading performers for exhibiting a robustious -or elocutionary passion. It was determined to tone the whole down, as -it were, and present it as an interesting love-story, treated with -restraint. Nothing could be more pleasing than the series of scenes thus -unfolded, set off by the not unpicturesque costumes of the revolutionary -era. It is difficult to conceive now of a Pauline otherwise attired. -It would seem that a play always presents itself to our manager’s eye -as a series of poetical scenes which take shape before him, with all -their scenery, dresses, and situations. As he muses over them they fall -into their place—the figures move; a happy suitable background suggests -itself, with new and striking arrangements; and thus the whole order and -tone of the piece furnishes him with inspiration. - -Indeed, it must be confessed that there are few plays we should be less -inclined to part with than this hackneyed and well-worn drama. The -“casual sight” of that familiar title on the red-brick corner wall in -some country or manufacturing town, it may be weeks old—the old paper -flapping flag-like—always touches a welcome note, and the names of -characters have a romantic sound. In the story there is the charm of -simple effects and primitive emotion; it is worked out without violence -or straining, and all through the ordinary sympathies are firmly struck, -and in the most touching way. Tinselly or superficial as many have -pronounced the piece, there is depth in it. So artfully is it compounded -that it is possible to play the two characters in half-a-dozen different -ways; and clever actors have exerted themselves to gloss over the one -weak spot in Melnotte’s character—the unworthy deception, which involves -loss of respect. Pauline, however, is a most charming character, from the -mixture of emotions; if played, that is, in a tender, impulsive way, and -not made a vehicle for elocutionary display. The gracious, engaging part -of the heroine has been essayed by our most graceful actresses, after -being created by the once irresistible Miss Helen Faucit. For over fifty -years this drama has held its ground, and is always being performed. -The young beginner, just stepping on the boards, turns fondly to the -effective “gardener’s son,” and is all but certain that he could deliver -the passage ending, “_Dost like the picture?_”—a burst often smiled -at, but never failing to tell. Every one of the characters is good and -actable, and, though we may have seen it fifty times, as most playgoers -have, there is always a reserve of novelty and attraction left which is -certain to interest. - -On this occasion, the old, well-worn drama was so picturesquely set -forth, that it seemed to offer a new pastoral charm. In Irving’s Claude -there was a sincerity and earnestness which went far to neutralize these -highly artificial, not to say “high-flown,” passages which have so often -excited merriment. Miss Terry, as may be conceived, was perfectly suited -in her character—the ever-charming Pauline; and displayed an abundance of -spontaneousness, sympathy, and tenderness. - -The public was at this time to learn with interest that the actor was -to accompany Lady Burdett-Coutts on a voyage to the Mediterranean in -her yacht _The Walrus_, and all was speculation as to the party and -their movements. One of her guests was an agreeable young American named -Bartlett, now better known as Mr. Burdett-Coutts, since become the -husband of the lady. During this pleasant voyage _The Walrus_ directed -her course to Venice and various Italian cities—all new and welcome -to our actor, who was at the same time taking stock of the manners, -customs, dresses, etc., of the country, and acquiring, as it were, -the general flavour and _couleur locale_. His scene-painter had also -found his way there, and was filling his sketch-book with rich “bits of -colour,” picturesque streets, and buildings. The manager was, in fact, -pondering over a fresh Shakespearian venture—an Italian play, which -was to be produced with the new season. He was, in fact, about to set -on the stage ‘The Merchant of Venice,’ with every aid that money and -taste could supply. The moment this selection was known, it was felt -almost universally that it was exactly the piece that should have been -chosen. Everyone anticipated by a sort of instinct what entertainment -was in store for them: for here was the part and here was the actor. -Notwithstanding the elaborate character of the preparations, the whole -was “got up” in some four weeks, though this period did not comprise the -long course of private study and meditation during which the scheme was -gradually matured in his mind. When on his yachting expedition he had -taken advantage of a hasty visit to Tangier to purchase Moorish costumes -to be used in the Shakespearian spectacle he was preparing. - -To fill up the interval he got ready Colman’s drama ‘The Iron Chest,’ -produced on September 27, 1879. This powerful but lugubrious piece -has always had an unaccountable attraction for tragedians. Sir Edward -Mortimer belongs, indeed, to the family of Sir Giles Overreach. The -character offered temptation to our actor from its long-sustained, -mournful, and poetical soliloquies, in which the state of the remorseful -soul was laid bare at protracted length; but, though modified and -altered, the piece is hopelessly old-fashioned. It is impossible in -our day to accept seriously a “band of robbers,” who moreover live -in “the forest”; and the “proofs” of Sir Edward’s guilt, a knife and -blood-stained cloth, carefully preserved in an old chest which is always -in sight, have a burlesque air. - -Irving very successfully presented the image of the tall, wan, haggard -man, a prey to secret remorse and sorrow. Wilford, the secretary, is -by anticipation, as it were, in possession of the terrible secret of -the murder, and is himself a character of much force and masterful -control. He is really the complement of the leading personage. But Norman -Forbes—one of the Forbes Robertson family, _ingenuus puer_, and likewise -_bonæ indolis_—made of this part merely an engaging youth, who certainly -ought to have given no anxiety in the world to a conscience-stricken -murderer. The terrors of Sir Edward would have had more force and effect -had he been in presence of a more robust and resolute personage—one who -was not to be drawn off the scent, or shaken off his prey. This piece -well served its purpose as “a stop-gap” until the new one was ready. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -1879. - -‘THE MERCHANT OF VENICE.’ - - -This great and attractive play was now ready: all was anticipation and -eager interest The night of its production—November 1, 1879—was a festive -one. The house was most brilliant: and indeed this may be accounted the -first _regular_, official Lyceum _première_. I recall that among the -audience were Tom Taylor and Henry Byron, names that now seem ghost-like, -so rapidly do literary shadows depart. Like some rich Eastern dream, -steeped in colours and crowded with exquisite figures of enchantment, -the gorgeous vision of the pageant seems now to rise in the cold, sober -daylight. As a view of Venetian life, manners, and scenery, it has never -been matched. The figures seemed to have a grace that belonged not to -the beings that pace, and declaim upon, the boards. Add the background, -the rich exquisite dresses, the truly noble scenery—a revel of colour, -yet mellowed—the elegant theatre itself crammed with an audience that -even the Lyceum had not witnessed, and it may be conceived what a night -it was. The scenery alone would take an essay to itself, and it is hard -to say which of the three artists engaged most excelled. The noble -colonnade of the ducal palace was grand and imposing; so was the lovely -interior of Portia’s house at Belmont, with its splendid amber hangings -and pearl-gray tones, its archings and spacious perspective. But the -Court scene, with its ceiling painted in the Verrio style, its portraits -of Doges, the crimson walls with gilt carvings, and the admirable -arrangements of the throne, etc., surely for taste, contrivance, and -effect has never been matched. The whole effect was produced by the -painting, not by built-up structures. The dresses too—groupings, -servants, and retainers—what sumptuousness! The pictures of Moroni and -Titian had been studied for the dove-coloured cloaks and jerkins, the -violet merchant’s gown of Antonio, the short hats—like those of our -day—and the frills. The general tone was that of one of Paolo Veronese’s -pictures—as gorgeous and dazzling as the _mélange_ of dappled colour in -the great Louvre picture. - -Shylock was not the conventional Hebrew usurer with patriarchal beard -and flowing robe, dirty and hook-nosed, but a picturesque and refined -Italianized Jew, genteelly dressed: a dealer in money, in the country of -Lorenzo de’ Medici, where there is an aristocracy of merchants. His eyes -are dark and piercing, his face is sallow, his hair spare and turning -gray; he wears a black cap, a brown gaberdine faced with black, and a -short robe underneath. - -The “Trial scene,” with its shifting passions, would have stamped Irving -as a fine actor. See him as he enters, having laid aside his gaberdine -and stick, and arrayed in his short-skirted gown, not with flowing -but tightened sleeves, so that this spareness seems to lend a general -gauntness to his appearance. There he stands, with eyes half furtively, -half distrustfully following the Judge as he speaks. When called upon -to answer the appeal made to him “from the bench,” how different from -the expected conventional declaration of violent hatred! Instead, his -explanation is given with an artful adroitness as if _drawn_ from him. -Thus, “If you deny it” is a reminder given with true and respectful -dignity, not a threat; and when he further declares that it “is his -humour,” there is a candour which might commend his case, though he -cannot restrain a gloating look at his prey. But as he dwells on the -point, and gives instances of other men’s loathing, this malignity seems -to carry him away, and, complacent in the logic of his illustration -of the “gaping pig” and “harmless necessary cat,” he bows low with a -Voltairean smile, and asks, “_Are you answered?_” How significant, too, -his tapping the bag of gold several times with his knife, in rejection -of the double sum offered, meant as a calm business-like refusal; and -the “I would have my bond!” emphasized with a meaning clutch. Then the -conclusion, “Fie upon your law,” delivered with folded arms and a haughty -dignity; indeed, a barrister might find profit here, and study the art of -putting a case with adroitness and weight. But when Antonio arrives his -eyes follow him with a certain uneasy distrust, and on Bellario’s letter -being read out he listens with a quiet interest, plucking his beard a -little nervously. As, however, he sees the tone the young lawyer takes, -he puts on a most deferential and confidential manner, which colours his -various compliments: “O wise young Judge,” “A Daniel,” etc., becoming -almost wheedling. And when he pleads his oath— - - “Shall I lay perjury upon my soul? - No, not for Venice!” - -there is a hypocritical earnestness, as if he were giving his reason -privately to the counsel, though there is a strange, indescribable sneer -conveyed in that “not for Venice.” Then the compliment to Portia, “How -much more elder art thou than thy looks!” which he utters, crouching -low, with a smiling, even leering, admiration, but admiration given for -what is on his own side. And what follows opens a most natural piece of -business, arising out of the sort of confidential intimacy which he would -establish between them— - - “Ay, his breast, - So says the bond;—Doth it not, noble judge? - _Nearest his heart_, those are the very words”; - -the latter words pronounced with canine ferocity, his eyes straining -over the other’s shoulders, while he points with his knife—secure, too, -that the other will agree with him. He fancies that he has brought -over the counsel to his side. And it may be added that this knife is -not flourished in the butcher’s style we are accustomed to; it is more -delicately treated, as though something surgical were contemplated. When -bidden to “have by some surgeon,” nothing could be better than the sham -curiosity with which he affects to search the bond for such a proviso, -letting his knife travel down the lines, and the tone of “I cannot find -it,” in a cold, helpless way, as if he had looked out of courtesy to -his “young Judge,” who appeared to be on his side. The latter at last -declares that there is no alternative, but that Antonio must yield his -bosom to the knife; then the Jew’s impatience seems to override his -courtesies, his gloating eyes never turn from his victim, and with greedy -ferocity he advances suddenly with “Come, prepare!” When, however, Portia -makes her “point” about the “drop of blood,” he drops his scales with -a start; and, Gratiano taunting him, his eyes turn with a dazed look -from one to the other; he says slowly, “Is—that—the—law?” Checked more -and more in his reluctant offers, he at last bursts out with a demoniac -snarl—“Why, then, the devil give him good of it!” Finally he turns to -leave, tottering away bewildered and utterly broken. As may be imagined, -the new Shylock excited a vast deal of controversy. The “old school” was -scornful; and here again it would have been worth hearing the worthy Jack -Ryder—whom we still must take to be the type of the good old past—on the -subject. - -Nothing was more remarkable than the general effect of this fine and -thoughtful representation upon the public. It was a distinct education, -too, and set everyone discussing and reading. Admittedly one result was -the great increase in the sale of editions of Shakespeare’s works; and -the ephemeral literature engendered in the shape of articles, criticisms, -and illustrations of all kinds was truly extraordinary. Here again was -heard the harsh note of the jealous and the envious. There was plenty of -fair and honest dissent as to the interpretation of the play, with some -reasonably argued protests against the over-abundant decoration. - -The hundredth night of the run of this prodigiously successful revival -was celebrated in hospitable fashion by a supper, to which all that was -artistic, literary, and fashionable—_tout Londres_ in short—was bidden. -The night was Saturday, February 14, 1880, the hour half-past eleven. -As soon as the piece was terminated a wonderful _tour de force_ was -accomplished. In an incredibly short space of time—some forty minutes, -I believe—an enormous marquee, striped red and white, that enclosed the -whole of the stage, was set up; the tables were arranged and spread with -“all the luxuries of the season” with magic rapidity. An enjoyable night -followed. The host’s health was given by that accomplished man, and man -of elegant tastes, Lord Houghton, in what was thought a curiously _mal à -propos_ speech. After conventional eulogiums, he could not resist some -half-sarcastic remarks as to “this new method of adorning Shakespeare.” -He condemned the system of long “runs,” which he contrasted with that of -his youth, when pieces were given not oftener than once or twice in the -week. He then praised the improvement in the manners of the profession, -“so that the tradition of good breeding and high conduct was not confined -to special families like the Kembles, or to special individuals like Mr. -Irving himself, but was spread over the profession, so that families of -condition were ready to allow their children to go on the stage. _We put -our sons and daughters into it._” I recall now the genuine indignation -and roughly-expressed sentiments of some leading performers and critics -who were sitting near me at this very awkward compliment. He then -proceeded to speak of the new impersonation, describing how he had seen -a Shylock, formerly considered a ferocious monster, but who had, under -their host’s treatment, become a “gentleman of the Jewish persuasion, in -voice very like a Rothschild, afflicted with a stupid servant and wilful -and pernicious daughter, to be eventually foiled by a very charming -woman. But there was one character Mr. Irving would never pervert or -misrepresent, and that was his own,” etc. - -Never was the power and good-humour—the _bonhomie_—of the manager more -happily displayed than in his reply. As was said at the time, it showed -him in quite a new light. Taken wholly unawares—for whatever preparation -he might have made was, he said, “rendered useless by the unexpected tone -of Lord Houghton’s remarks”-he was thrown on his impromptu resources, and -proved that he really possessed what is called debating power. He spoke -without hesitation, and with much good sense and playful humour put aside -these blended compliments and sarcasms. - -Some time before the manager, who was on friendly terms with the gifted -Helen Faucit, determined to revive a piece in which she had once made a -deep impression, viz., ‘King Réné’s Daughter.’ This poem, translated by -her husband, set out the thoughts and feelings of a young girl in the -contrasted conditions of blindness and of sight recovered. With a natural -enthusiasm for his art, Irving persuaded the actress, who had long since -withdrawn from the stage, to emerge from her retirement and play her old -character “for one night only.” This news really stirred the hearts of -true playgoers, who recalled this actress in her old days of enchantment, -when she was in her prime, truly classical and elegant in every pose, -playing the pathetic Antigone. But, alas! for the old Antigone dreams; we -could have wished that we had stayed away! The actress’s devices seemed -to have hung too long a “rusty mail, and seemed quite out of fashion.” -Irving did all he could, in an almost chivalrous style, and it was -certainly a kindly act of admiration and enthusiasm for his art to think -of such a revival. Such homage deserved at least tolerance or recognition. - -Miss Terry herself had always fancied the character of Iolanthe, and it -was now proposed to give the play as an after-piece to ‘The Merchant -of Venice,’ a substantial meal for one night. Our heroine made a -tender, natural, and highly emotional character of it. A new version or -adaptation from the Danish had been made, for obvious reasons, by the -trusty Wills: the piece was set off by one really lovely scene, which -represented the heart of some deep grove, that seemed almost inaccessible -to us, weird and jungle-like. A golden, gorgeous light played on the -trees capriciously; there was a rich tangle of huge tropical flowers; -while behind, the tall, bare trunks of trees were ranged close together -like sentinels. Golden doors opened with a musical chime, or clang; -strange, weird music, as of æolian harps, floated up now and again. With -this background, knightly figures of the Arthurian pattern and ethereal -maidens were seen to float before us. Miss Terry’s conception of the -maid was not Miss Faucit’s, which was that of a placid, rather cold and -elegant being. She cast over the character a rapture, as though she were -all love and impulse, with an inexpressible tenderness and devotional -trust, as when she exclaimed, “I _go_ to find the light!” This sort of -rapture also tinged Mr. Irving’s character, and the audience were lifted -into a region where emotion reigned supreme. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -1880. - -‘THE CORSICAN BROTHERS’ AND ‘THE CUP.’ - - -With his usual tact the manager had determined on a change of -entertainment which should offer a marked contrast to the classical -success just obtained, and was now meditating a revival of the once -popular romantic drama, ‘The Corsican Brothers,’ with all its spectral -effects—certainly one of the best of many admirably-constructed and -effective French pieces. To such a group belong the absorbing ‘Two -Orphans,’ ‘Thirty Years of a Gambler’s Life,’ ‘Victorine,’ and others. -‘The Lady of Lyons’ is the only one of our _répertoire_ that can be -put beside these ingenious efforts. Some thirty years ago, when it was -produced at the Princess’s, the horny-voiced Charles Kean performing -the Brothers, it took hold of the public with a sort of fascination—the -strange music of Stöpel, and the mysterious, gliding progress of the -murdered brother across the stage, enthralling everyone. There was a -story at the time that the acts, sent over from Paris in separate parcels -for translation, had become transposed, the second act being placed -first, and this order was retained in the representation with some -benefit to the play. This may be a legend; but the fact is that either -act could come first without making any serious difference. - -Magnificent and attractive as was the mounting of this piece at the time, -it was really excelled in sumptuousness on its later revival in 1891. -The experience of ten years had made the manager feel a certainty in the -results of his own efforts; his touch had become sure; the beautiful and -striking effects were developed naturally, without that undue emphasis -which often disturbs the onward course of a piece. All his agents had -grown skilled in the resources of the scene; and he himself, enjoying -this security, and confident as would be a rider on the back of a -well-trained horse, could give his undoubted fancy and imagination full -range. Hence that fine, unobtrusive harmony which now reigns in all his -pictures. Even now the wonderful opera house, the forest glades, the -_salon_ in Paris, all rise before us. Nor was there less art shown in the -subdued tone of mystery which it was contrived to throw over the scenes. -The scenes themselves, even those of reckless gaiety, seemed to strike -this “awesome” note. Much as the familiar “ghost tune” was welcomed, more -mysterious, as it always seemed to me, was the “creepy variation” on the -original theme, devised by Mr. H. Clarke, and which stole in mournfully -at some impending crisis all through the piece. There was some criticism -on the D’Orsay costumes of the piece; the short-waisted waist-coats, the -broad-brimmed opera hats, and the rich cravats—_Joinvilles_, as they -used to be called. These lent a piquancy, and yet were not too remote -from the present time. Terriss, it must be said, was lacking in elegance -and “distinction.” There always lingers in the memory the image of the -smooth grace and courtesies of Alfred Wigan, who really made a dramatic -character of the part—sympathetic and exciting interest. It is in these -things that we miss the style, the bearing which is itself acting, -without utterance of a word, and which now seems to be a lost art. One -result of this treatment, as Mr. Clement Scott truly pointed out, was the -shifting of sympathies. “Château-Renaud was, no doubt, a villain, but he -was one of the first class, and with magnetic power in him. He had won -for himself a high place. He was cold as steel, and reserved. For him to -deal with Louis was child’s play. And yet all this was reversed: it was -Louis that dominated the situation; no one felt the least apprehension -for his fate.” This is a judicious criticism. - -Familiarity has now somewhat dulled the effect of the gliding entrance of -the ghostly Louis, which at first seemed almost supernatural. The art was -in making the figure rise as it advanced, and an ingenious contrivance -was devised by one of the stage foremen. It was a curious feeling to find -oneself in the cavernous regions below the stage, and see the manager -rush down and hurriedly place himself on the trap to be worked slowly -upwards.[24] - -The use of intense light has favoured the introduction of new effects in -the shape of transparent scenery; that is, of a scene that looks like -any ordinary one, but is painted on a thick gauzy material. Thus, in -the first act, the back of the scene in the Corsican Palace is of this -material, through which the tableau of the Paris duel is shown, a fierce -light being cast upon it. In the original representation the whole wall -descended and revealed the scene. The upper half ascending, the other -offers something of a magic-lantern or phantasmagorian air. The same -material is used in the dream in ‘The Bells,’ when the spectral trial is -seen going on, made mysterious and misty by the interposition of this -gauze. - -In the duel scene one of the swords is broken by an accident; the other -combatant breaks his across his knee, that the duel may proceed “on equal -terms.” It is not, of course, to be supposed that a sword is broken every -night. They are made with a slight rivet and a little solder, the fitting -being done every morning, so that the pieces are easily parted. But few -note how artfully the performers change their weapons; for in the early -stages of the duel the flourishings and passes would have soon caused -the fragments to separate. It is done during the intervals of rest, when -the combatants lean on the seconds and gather strength for the second -“round,” and one gets his new weapon from behind a tree, the other from -behind a prostrate log. - -But it is in the next act that the series of elaborate set scenes -succeeding each other entails the most serious difficulties, only to be -overcome in one way—viz., by the employment of an enormous number of -persons. Few modern scenes were more striking than that of the Opera -House lit _à giorno_, with its grand chandelier and smaller clusters -running round. The blaze of light was prodigious; for this some five -thousand feet of gas-tubing had to be laid down, the floor covered with -snake-like coils of indiarubber pipes, and the whole to be contrived -so as to be controlled from a single centre-pipe. There were rows of -boxes with crimson curtains, the spectators filling them—some faces -being painted in, others being represented by living persons. Yet -nothing could be more simple than the elements of this Opera House. -From the audience portion one would fancy that it was an elaborately -built and costly structure. It was nothing but two light screens pierced -with openings, but most artfully arranged and coloured. At its close, -down came the rich tableau curtains, while behind them descended the -cloth with the representation of the lobby scene in the Opera House. -It used to be customary for the manager’s friends to put on a mask and -domino and mingle with the gay throng of roysterers in the Opera House -scene, or to take a place in one of the practicable boxes and survey -the whole—and a curious scene it was. A cosy supper in the Beef-steak -room, and a pleasant _causerie_ through the small hours, concluded a -delightful and rather original form of a night’s entertainment. This -was followed by the double rooms of the supper party, a very striking -scene: two richly-furnished rooms, Aubusson carpets, a pianoforte, -nearly twenty chairs, sofas, tables, clocks, and a supper-table covered -with delicacies, champagne bottles, flowers, etc. This is succeeded -almost instantly by a scene occupying the same space—that of the forest, -requiring the minutest treatment, innumerable properties, real trees, -etc. This is how it is contrived. The instant the tableau curtains are -dropped, the auxiliaries rush on the scene; away to right and left fly -the portions of the Parisian drawing-room: tables, chairs, piano, sofa, -vanish in an instant. Men appear carrying tall saplings fixed in stands; -one lays down the strip of frozen pond, another the prostrate trunk of -a tree—everyone from practice knowing the exact place of the particular -article he is appointed to carry. Others arrive with bags of sand, which -are emptied and strewn on the floor; the circular tree is in position, -the limelights ready. The transformation was effected, in what space -of time will the reader imagine? In thirty-eight _seconds_, by the -stage-manager’s watch. By that time the tableau had been drawn aside, and -Château-Renaud and his friend Maugiron were descending into the gloomy -glade after their carriage had broken down.[25] - -As we call up the memories of the Lyceum performances, with what a series -of picturesque visions is our memory furnished—poetical Shakespearian -pageants; romantic melodramatic stories, set forth with elegance and -_vraisemblance_; plays of pathetic or domestic interest; exhilarating -comedies; with highly dramatic poems, written by the late Poet Laureate, -Wills, and others. Indeed, who could have conceived on the opening night -of the Lyceum management, when ‘Hamlet’ was to be brought out, that this -was to be the first of a regular series—viz., nine gorgeous and ambitious -presentations of Shakespearian pieces, each involving almost stupendous -efforts, intellectual and physical, that we were to see in succession -‘The Merchant of Venice,’ ‘Romeo and Juliet,’ ‘Much Ado About Nothing,’ -‘Othello,’ ‘Twelfth Night,’ ‘Macbeth,’ ‘Henry VIII.,’ and ‘King Lear’? -What a gift to the public in the shape of the attendant associations, -in the glimpses of Italian and other scenery, the rich costumes, the -archæology! - -The late Laureate, not contented with the popularity which his poems have -won, always “hankered” after the entrancing publicity and excitement of -the theatre. He made many an attempt in this direction, and his list -of performed dramas is a fairly long one; few, however, have enjoyed -any signal success, save perhaps the last, recently produced in the -United States. To one indeed—witness the unlucky ‘Promise of May’—the -regular “first-nighter,” as he is called, was indebted for an amusing -and enjoyable evening’s entertainment. It must be conceded, however, -that there is a dramatic tone or flavour about his pieces which is -attractive, in spite of all deficiencies, and anyone who could not see -a touching grace and elegance in such a piece as ‘The Falcon,’ weak as -it is in treatment, must have little taste or feeling. So with ‘Queen -Mary,’ which had a certain grim power, and, above all, local colour. His -own striking success in the character of King Philip was an agreeable -recollection for Irving; and he now lent himself with much enthusiasm to -a project for bringing forward a new drama by the poet. The preparations -for this elegant play were of the most lavish and unstinted kind. -Nothing, literally, was spared in the outlay of either study, thought, -money, or art. The manager usually follows an eclectic system, choosing -his _aides_ and assistants as they appear suited to each play. Thus an -architect of literary tastes, Mr. Knowles, was called in to design a -regular Temple-interior, which was the principal scene, and which was to -be treated, _secundum artem_, in professional style. And so it rose with -all its pillars and pediments “behind the scenes.” - - “No ponderous axes rung; - Like some tall palm the mystic fabric sprung.” - -The name of the new piece was ‘The Cup,’ a fine “barbarian” story, -strangely interesting and even fascinating. It was, of course, diffuse -and expanded to inordinate length. And there were many pleasant stories -afloat of the poet contending “for the dear life” for his “ewe lambs,” -and every line of his poetry; the manager, in his pleasant, placid -way—but firm withal—quietly insisting on the most abundant compression. - -The night of performance was that of January 3, 1881, when the beautiful -play-poem was at last set before the audience in all its attraction. -It still lingers in the memory with an inexpressible charm, breathing -poetry and romance. We shall ever look back fondly to ‘The Cup,’ with its -exquisite setting, and lament heartily that others did not so cordially -or enthusiastically appreciate it. There was something so fascinating -about the play, something so refining, and also so “fantastical,” that -though lacking the strong thews and muscles of a regular drama, it -satisfied eye and ear. As it floated before us, in airy, evanescent -fashion, it seemed to recall the lines that wind up the most charming of -Shakespeare’s plays, when the revels now had ended, and all had “melted -into air, into thin air.” The noble Temple, with its rich mouldings, -was destined too soon, alas! to pass away into the same dark grave -of so many noble creations. On the two chief characters, both full of -tragic power, the eye rested with an almost entrancing interest. Never -did Irving _act_ better—that is, never did he convey by his look and -tones the evidence of the barbaric conception within him. There was a -fine, pagan, reckless savagery, yet controlled by dignity. Miss Terry’s -Camma returns to the memory like the fragment of a dream. The delightful -creation was brought before us more by her sympathetic bearing and motion -than by speech; what music was there in those tones, pitched in low, -melodious key, interpreting the music of Tennyson! Her face and outline -of figure, refined and poetical as they were, became more refined still -in association with the lovely scenery and its surroundings. She seemed -to belong to the mythological past. There was a strange calm towards the -close, and all through no undue theatrical emphasis or faulty tone of -recitation to disturb that dreamy sense. - -It was not a little disheartening to think that this “entire, perfect -chrysolite” was received with a rather cold admiration, or at least not -with the enthusiasm it richly merited. The apathetic crowd scarcely -appreciated the too delicate fare set before it, we scarcely know why. I -suppose that it had not sufficient _robustness_, as it is called. After -some weeks the manager found it needful to supplement the attraction of -the play by the revived ‘Corsican Brothers.’ It may be conceived what a -strain[26] was here on the resources, not merely of the actors, but even -of all who were concerned with the scenery and properties. Two important -pieces had to be treated and manipulated within an incredibly short space -of time. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -1881. - -‘OTHELLO’ AND ‘THE TWO ROSES’ REVIVED. - - -At this time there came to London an American actor whose reputation -in his own country was very high, and for whom it was claimed that, as -a legitimate performer, he was superior to all rivals. This was Mr. -Edwin Booth. He was welcomed with cordiality and much curiosity, and -by none was he received with such hearty goodwill as by the manager -of the Lyceum. Unluckily, he had made his arrangements injudiciously, -having agreed to appear under a management which was quite unsuited -to the proper exhibition of his gifts. The Princess’s Theatre was a -house devoted to melodrama of the commoner type, and was directed by -commercial rather than by æsthetic principles. This mistake proved fatal. -The manager, finding that there was no likelihood of success, was not -inclined to waste his resources, and, no doubt to the anguish of the -actor, brought out the pieces in a meagre fashion that was consistent -with the traditions of Oxford Street, but fatal to the American’s chances. - -In this disastrous state of things the manager of the Lyceum came to the -rescue of his _confrère_ with a suggestion as delicately conceived as it -was generous. He offered him his theatre, with its splendid resources and -traditions, his company, and—himself. He proposed that a Shakespearian -play should be produced on the customary scale of magnificence, and that -he and Booth should fill the leading characters. This handsome offer was, -of course, accepted with gratitude, and ‘Othello’ was selected as the -play. - -The arrangements for this “Booth season,” as it might be termed, were -of an unusual and certainly laborious kind. The manager, however, was -never disposed to spare himself. The programme began on May 2, 1881, when -Booth was to appear as Othello, performing on Monday, Wednesday, and -Friday, the manager playing Iago. On the other nights of the week, ‘The -Cup,’ with the lively ‘Belle’s Stratagem,’ was to be performed. In the -following week there was the same arrangement, except that Irving took -the part of Othello.[27] - -The night of May 2 was an exciting one, even in the list of exciting -Lyceum nights. The Americans were, of course, there in great force. -Irving—Booth—Ellen Terry: this surely formed, in theatrical phrase, a -galaxy of talent, and the cynosure of a crowded, brilliant audience. It -was, indeed, a charming performance—intellectual, highly-coloured, and -treated in the romantic fashion which the age seems to demand. The old -days of lusty-throated, welkin-splitting declamation, emphasized with -strides and lunges, are done with. - -Of Irving’s Iago it would be difficult to say too much. There have been -always the two extremes: one portraying the Ancient as a malignant, -scowling, crafty villain, doing much work with his eyes; the other as a -kind of dapper, sarcastic, sneering personage, much after the model of -Mephistopheles, this tone being emphasized by an airy, fashionable dress, -as though he were some cynical Venetian “about town.” In Irving was seen -the man of power and capability. There was breadth of treatment—the -character was coherent throughout. The keynote to the perplexing -character was found in his _humour_. In “I hate the Moor!”—one of those -secret, jealous, morbid broodings which belong to human nature—an -admirably delivered soliloquy, he strives to find some reasonable excuse -for this suggestion; ‘He has done my office’ is merely accepted as a -suitable pretext. The mode in which this was, as it were, chased through -the turnings of his soul; the anxious tone of search, “I know not if -’t be true”; the covering up his face, and the motion by which he let -his hands glide, revealing an elated expression at having found what -would “serve,” was a perfect exhibition of the processes of thought. All -this was set off by a dress of singular appropriateness and richness: a -crimson and gold jerkin, with a mantle of dull or faded green, sometimes -alternated with a short cloak and a red mantle worn on one arm. - -In Booth’s Othello there appeared to be a lack of vigour, and the -elocutionist was too present. There was a system of “points.” Some -critics were rude enough to say that “his make-up suggested at times an -Indian juggler, while about the head he seemed a low-cast Bengali.” He -was never the “noble Moor.” “He had a tendency at times to gobble like a -turkey.” This was rather hard measure. But in the scene with Iago, and, -above all, in the scenes with Desdemona, the frantic bursts of jealousy, -the command of varied tones, the by-play, the fierce ordering of Emilia -and his wife—all this was of a high class, and stirred us. Miss Terry’s -Desdemona was pathetic, and her piteous pleadings and remonstrances went -straight to the heart. - -On the next performance the parts were interchanged. A figure arrayed -in a flowing amber robe over a purple brocaded gaberdine; a small, -snow-white turban; a face dark, yet not “black”—such was Irving’s -conception of Othello, which indeed answered to our ideal of the Moor. -His tall figure gave him advantage. His reading of the part, again, was -of the romantic, passionate kind, and he leant more on the tender side -of the character than on the ferocious or barbaric. In the scene of -Desdemona’s death or murder, there was now another and more effective -arrangement: the bed was placed in the centre of the stage, and the whole -became more important and conspicuous. When it was at the side, as in the -Booth arrangement, it was difficult to believe in the continued presence -of the lady after her death, and there was an awkwardness in the efforts -to keep in sight of the audience during the struggle. There is not space -to give details of the points which distinguished this conception—it -is virtually a new character; but it will always be played by Irving -under a disadvantage, as the play of his expressive face—the meaning, -“travelling” eyes—is greatly veiled by the enforced swarthiness and -Æthiop tint. - -Booth’s Iago had been seen before, and was much praised. It was on the -old “Mephistopheles” lines. The dress, indeed, strangely meagre and -old-fashioned, scarcely harmonized with the rich costumes about him. - -The whole of this transaction, as I have said, did honour to the English -actor. Nothing more cordially hospitable could have been imagined. At the -time there was a “Booth party,” who gave out that their favourite had -not had fair play at the Princess’s, and that on a properly-appointed -stage his superiority to all rivals would be apparent. These and other -utterances were scattered about freely. Irving might have passed them -by with indifference. It was certainly not his duty to share his stage -with a stranger and a rival. At the same time we may give him credit -for a certain delicate _finesse_, and he may have later thought, with -a smiling, good-humoured complacency, that, owing to his allowing -the experiment, the issue had turned out very differently from what -“good-natured people” had hoped. The mortification for the American -must have been the greater from the disadvantage of the contrast, which -brought out in the most forcible way the want of “distinction,” the -stock of old, rather faded, devices with which he came provided, and -which he tried on his audience with an antique gravity. Audiences have, -unfortunately, but little delicacy. In their plain way they show their -appreciation of whom they think “the better man” in a business-like -manner; and I remember how they insisted that the encouraging applause -which they gave to the new actor should be shared by his host. - -It should be mentioned that the prices on this engagement were raised -to the opera scale—a guinea in the stalls, half-a-guinea for the -dress-circle. - -When the actor took his benefit at the close of this laborious season, -the theatre presented an opera-house appearance, and was filled to -overflowing with a miscellany of brave men and fair women, the latter -arrayed in special splendour and giving the whole an air of rich luxury -and magnificence befitting the handsomest and best-appointed theatre in -the kingdom. Bouquets of unusual brilliancy and dimensions were laid -in position, clearly not brought for the enjoyment of the owners. The -entertainment consisted of the stock piece of ‘The Bells.’ Mr. Toole -performed Mr. Hollingshead’s farce, ‘The Birthplace of Podgers,’ a happy -subject, which shows that the “germ” of the æsthete “business” existed -twenty years ago. The feature of the night was the well-known scene from -‘The Hunchback,’ in which Modus is so pleasantly drawn into making a -declaration. Sheridan Knowles is often ridiculed for his sham Elizabethan -situations; yet it may be doubted if any living writer could treat this -incident with such freshness or so naturally. It is a piece of good, -wearing stuff, and will wear even better. When the scene drew up, the -handsome curtains, festooned in rich and abundant folds, revealed a new -effect, throwing out, by contrast, the pale greenish-tinted scene, and -heightening the light so that the two figures were projected on this -mellow background with wonderful brilliancy. Miss Terry’s performance -was full of animation and piquancy. Most remarkable, indeed, was the new -store of unexpected attitudes and graces revealed at every moment—pretty -stoopings, windings, sudden half turns, inviting “rallyings”—so that even -a Modus more insensible to her advances must have succumbed. But in truth -this wonderful creature “adorns all she touches.” It is clear that there -is a Jordan-like vein of comedy in her yet to be worked. Irving’s Modus -was full of a quaint earnestness, and his air of helplessness in the -hands of such a mistress was well maintained. Modus is generally made to -hover on the verge of oafishness, so as to make it surprising that there -should be any object in gaining such a being. Irving imparted a suitable -air to it, and lifted the character into pure comedy. - -At the end came the expected speech, delivered with a pleasant -familiarity, and dwelling on past successes and future plans. As in -the case of another Premier, announcement was made of “improvement -for tenants” in the pit and boxes, who were to have more room—to be -“rooted,” if not to the soil, in their places at least. It was a pleasant -and remarkable season to look back upon: the enchanting ‘Cup,’ which -lingers like a dream, or lotus-eating fancy; the ‘Corsican Brothers,’ so -sumptuously mounted; the splendid ‘Othello,’ the meeting of the American -and the English actor on the same stage, and their strangely opposed -readings of the same characters. - -The performance of ‘The Belle’s Stratagem,’ which supplemented the -attraction of ‘Othello,’ was interesting, as it introduced once more -to active life that excellent and sound old actor, Henry Howe, who is -now perhaps the only link with the generation of the great actors. It -was a graceful and thoughtful act of Irving’s to seek out the veteran -and attach him to his company. During the decade of years that have -since elapsed, he has always treated him with a kindly and courteous -consideration. Everyone who knows Mr. Howe—and everyone who does is glad -to be counted among his friends—can testify to his kindly and loveable -qualities. He has not the least particle of that testy discontent which -too often distinguishes the veteran actor, who extols the past and is -discontented with the present, because it is discontented with him, or -thinks that he lags superfluous on the stage. As we have talked with him -of a summer’s afternoon, in his little retreat at Isleworth, the image -of many a pleasant hour in the old Haymarket days has risen up with his -presence. It is always pleasant to encounter his honest face in the -Strand, where he lives, as he is hurrying to his work.[28] - -In January, 1882, our manager revived a piece in which he had achieved -one of his earliest triumphs—‘The Two Roses.’ Miss Terry was at this time -busily preparing for what was to be her great effort, in Juliet, and this -interruption to her labours was judicious policy on the manager’s part. -Much had occurred during the long interval of twelve years since the play -had been first performed, but many still recalled with enjoyment Irving’s -masterly creation. When he was casting the characters for the piece, he -had counted on the original Caleb Decie—Thorne—who held the traditions -of the play. Owing to some sudden change—I think to his entering on -management—this arrangement had to be given up, and the manager was -somewhat perplexed as to who he could find to fill the character. He -happened to be in Glasgow at this time, when the local manager said to -him, “There is a young fellow here who, I think, would exactly suit you; -he is intelligent, hard working, and anxious to get on. His name is -Alexander.” Irving accepted the advice, and secured an actor who was of -his own school, of well-defined instincts and a certain elegance, and -exactly suited to be _jeune premier_ of the Lyceum. It may be conceived -with what delight, as he himself has told me, this unexpected opening -was received by the then obscure youth; and at a pleasant supper the new -engagement was ratified. At this moment the young Glasgow candidate is -the prosperous manager of the St. James’s Theatre, a position which a -dozen years of conscientious work has placed him in. Far more rough and -thorny was the path along which Irving had to toil, during a score of -years, before he found himself at the head of a theatre. But in these -_fin de siècle_ times, the days and hours have doubled their value. - -The piece was well mounted and well played, and there was much interest -felt in comparing the new cast with the old. In a pleasant, half-sad -meditation, my friend Mr. Clement Scott called up some of the old -memories; the tyrant Death, he said, had played sad havoc with the -original companies that did so much for this English comedy. “Far away, -leagues from home, across the Atlantic sleep both Harry Montague and -Amy Fawcitt. We may associate them still with Jack Wyatt and Lottie—who -seemed the very boy and girl lovers that such a theme required—so bright -and manly and noble, so tender, young, and handsome.” David James, as I -have said, had taken the place of the oleaginous Honey, and for those who -had not seen the latter, was an admirable representative of the part. The -“Roses” were Miss Helen Mathews and Miss Emery. - -The manager, in his old part, received universal praise from the entire -circle of critics. Some considered it his most perfect creation, and -likened it to Got’s ‘Duc Job’ and Regnier’s ‘Annibal.’ It was certainly -a most finished and original performance; but it must be confessed that -the larger stage and larger house had its effect, and tempted the actor -into laying greater emphasis on details of the character. An actor -cannot stand still, as it were. Repetition for a hundred nights is one -of the vices of the modern stage, and leads to artificiality. Under the -old _répertoire_ system, when a piece was given for a few nights, then -suspended to be resumed after an interval, the actor came to his part -with a certain freshness and feeling of novelty. - -At the same time, it should be said that the play itself was accountable -for this loss of effect. It was of but an ephemeral sort, and belonged -to an old school which had passed away. Other players besides Irving, -conscious of this weakness, have felt themselves constrained to -supplement it by these broad touchings. The average “play of commerce” is -but the inspiration of the moment, and engendered by it—authors, manager, -actors, audience all join, as it were, in the composition. Every portion, -therefore, reflects the tone of the time. But after a number of years -this tone becomes lost or forgotten; the fashions of feeling and emotion, -both off as well as on the stage, also pass away. - -When closing his season and making the important announcement of the -selection of ‘Romeo and Juliet’ for the new one, the manager, as we have -seen, had promised some alterations and improvements in the theatre. -These were duly carried out, and not only added to the comfort of the -audience, but also to the profits of the management. The corridor at -the back of the dress-circle was taken in and supplied some sixty or -seventy new seats; while below, on the pit floor, place was found for -some two hundred additional persons, by including the saloon. Further, -the arch of the gallery which impeded the view was raised, padded -seats were furnished for the pit, and the manager was willing even to -supply “backs,” an unusual luxury, to the seats in the gallery; but the -Chamberlain interposed, on the ground that in any panic or hurrying down -the steep ascent, these might be found an obstruction. Other alterations -were made in the exits and entrances—though these were merely in the -nature of makeshifts. But the manager was not content until, many years -later, he had purchased the adjoining house and thoroughly remodelled the -whole.[29] - -The manager, in the interval, took his company on a provincial tour -to the leading towns. At Glasgow it was announced to be “the greatest -engagement ever witnessed in that city.” As he told his audience on the -last night, the receipts for the twelve nights amounted to over £4,000—an -average of £334 per night. But the extraordinary “drawing” power of our -actor was never exhibited more signally than during the engagement at -Edinburgh, at Mr. Howard’s Theatre, which produced results that were -really unprecedented. On his last appearance Irving told the audience -that “this engagement—and you must not take it for egotism—has been -the most remarkable one played for any twelve nights in any theatre, I -should think, in Great Britain, certainly out of London, and there are -some large theatres in London. I may tell you that there has been taken -during the engagement here £4,300, which is certainly the largest sum -ever had before in any theatre during the space of time, and I believe -it is perfectly unprecedented in any city.” This was a tribute to his -attraction. On his departure a gold repeater watch was presented to him. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -1882. - -‘ROMEO AND JULIET’—THE BANQUET. - - -By March 8, 1882, the great revival of ‘Romeo and Juliet’ was ready. -For this performance the manager drew upon all the resources of his -taste, purse, study, and experience. The fascinating play, indeed, -offered opportunities for adornment only too tempting. Those glittering, -bewitching pictures still linger in the memory of the playgoer, though -more than ten years have elapsed since the opening night “Among the -restorations will be found that of Romeo’s unrequited love for Rosaline, -omitted, among other things, in Garrick’s version.” - -Those who came away from the Lyceum on that opening night must have had -a sense almost of bewilderment, so rich and dazzling were the scenes of -light and colour that had for hours passed before their eyes. According -to the true illusive principle in use on this stage, the lights are -lowered as every scene is about to change, by which a sense of mystery is -produced, and the prosaic mechanism of the movement is shrouded. Hence, -a sort of richness of effect and surprise as the gloom passes away and -a gorgeous scene steeped in effulgence and colour is revealed. It would -take long to detail the beautiful views, streets, palaces, chambers, -dresses, groupings, that were set before the audience, all devised with -an extraordinary originality and fertility of resource; though this was -the third of these Italian revivals. When it is considered that there -were twenty-two scenes, and that most of these were “sets,” it is amazing -with what rapidity and smoothness the changes were contrived. Not the -least pleasurable part of the whole was the romantic music, written in a -flowing, tender strain by Sir Julius Benedict, full of a juvenile freedom -and spirit, thoroughly Italian in character, and having something of the -grace and character of Schubert’s ‘Rosamunde.’ In the exquisite garden, -with its depth of silvered trees glistening in the moonlight, viewed -from a terrace, the arrangement of the balcony was the only successful -solution seen as yet. It has always been forgotten that Juliet has to -act—is, as it were, “on the stage”—and should not be perched in a little -wobbling cage. Here it was made a sort of solid loggia, as much a part of -the stage as that upon which her lover was standing. I fancy this was the -scenic triumph of the night. - -When it is considered that Romeo and Juliet are characters almost -impossible to perform so as to reach the Shakespearian ideal, it becomes -easier to “liberate one’s mind” on the subject of the performance of -the two leading characters. The chief objection was that they scarcely -presented the ideal of superabundant youth—boyish and girlish—required by -the play. I have always thought this a point to be but little insisted -upon; it is much the same as with strictness of costume, which is -overpowered, as it were, by the acting. It is the _acting_ of youth, not -the appearance of youth, that is required; and a case is conceivable -where all the flush of youth with its physical accompaniments may be -present in perfection, and yet from failure of the acting the idea of -maturity and age may be conveyed.[30] In the dramatic ballroom scene, -when he was moving about arrayed as a pilgrim, the unbecoming dress and -rather too swarthy features seemed to convey the presentment of a person -in the prime of life. The critics spoke freely in this sense. - -In the latter, more tragic portion of the play, the very intensity of -the emotion seemed to add maturity and depth to the character of Romeo. -Nothing could better supply the notion of impending destiny, of gathering -gloom, than the view of the dismal heart-chilling street, the scene of -the visit to the apothecary. Our actor’s picturesque sense was shown in -his almost perfect conception of this situation. The forlorn look of the -houses, the general desolation, the stormy grandeur in keeping with the -surroundings, the properly subdued grotesqueness of the seller of simples -(it was the grotesqueness of _misery_ that was conveyed), filled the -heart with a sadness that was almost real. In Miss Terry’s case there was -a division of opinions, some thinking her performance all but perfect, -others noting the absence of “girlishness.” All agreed as to its engaging -character and its winning charm. Terriss was the Mercutio, which he gave -with his favourite blunt impetuosity. But one of the most perfectly -played characters was Mrs. Stirling’s Nurse. This accomplished woman -represented all the best traditions—high training, admirable elocution, -with the art of giving due weight and breadth to every utterance. And -yet—here was a curious phenomenon—the very excellence of the delineation -disturbed the balance of the play. The Nurse became almost as important -as the leading performers, but not from any fault of the actress. She -but followed the due course. This is a blemish which is found in many -exhibitions of Shakespearian plays, where the inferior actor works up -his Dogberry, or his Gravedigger, or his Jacques to the very fullest -extent of which they are capable. But there should be subordination; -these are merely humours exhibited _en passant_. With an actress of Mrs. -Stirling’s powers and rank, the manager no doubt felt too much delicacy -to interfere; nor would perhaps the audience have placidly accepted any -effacing of her part. But as it was, the figure of this humble retainer -became unduly prominent.[31] - -‘Romeo and Juliet’ was witnessed one night by the impetuous Sarah -Bernhardt, who afterwards came behind the scenes to congratulate the -performers. “How can you act in this way every night?” she exclaimed to -Ellen Terry. The latter, in her simple, natural way, explained: “It is -the audience—they inspire me!” - -Such was this refined, elegant, and truly brilliant spectacle, which, -as usual, furnished “talk for the town,” and stirred its interest. The -hundredth night of performance was celebrated by a banquet on the stage, -on Sunday night, June 25, 1882. Here assembled critics, dramatists, -artists, _e tutti quanti_; there were many admirers, friends, and -sympathizers present, some of whom have since passed away—Sir W. Hardman, -Dr. Cox, Laman Blanchard, Palgrave Simpson, and many more. There is a -sadness in thinking of these disappearances. - -Among the guests at the banquet was Mr. Abbey, the American manager, well -known for his many daring and very successful _coups_ in management. In -the course of the night there were some rumours circulated as to the -motives of his presence in town; but an allusion in Irving’s speech, when -he said pointedly that he hoped next year to have good experience of the -cordiality of American audiences, set the matter at rest. This scheme -had long been in his thoughts; and, indeed, already many invitations -and proposals had been made to him to visit the United States. There -was something dazzling and fascinating in this prospect of going forth -to conquer a new great kingdom and new audiences. There was the chance, -too, of riches “beyond the dreams of avarice.” No wonder, then, that the -scheme began to take shape, and was presently to be decided upon. - -After one hundred and thirty nights’ performance of ‘Romeo and Juliet,’ -the season was brought to a close, the manager taking “a benefit” on his -last night. Some ungracious folk object to this old-established form of -compliment, but he defended it in a very modest and judicious way. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -1882. - -‘MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING’—AMERICAN VISIT ARRANGED. - - -In his speech at the close of the season, the manager announced the -new piece selected for the next season. With that judicious view to -contrast or relief which directed all his efforts, he had settled on a -true comedy—the effective ‘Much Ado About Nothing.’ To this piece many -had long since pointed as being exactly adapted to the special gifts -of the two performers. Here was the fourth Shakespearian play of an -Italian complexion and atmosphere, which entailed accordingly a fresh -exhibition of Italian streets, manners, and costumes. A happy impression -was produced by the very note of preparation, the air was filled with -the breath of the coming piece; all felt, in anticipation, the agreeable -humours and fancies of Benedick and his Beatrice. This feeling of comedy, -it may be said, is ever a delightful one; it spreads abroad a placid, -quiet enjoyment and good-humour with which nothing else can compare. - -On Wednesday, October 11, 1882, the delightful piece was brought out. -From the excellent acting of the two principal performers, and the -beautiful “setting” of the whole, it was destined to become one of the -most popular and acceptable of the Lyceum _répertoire_. By a curious -delusion, owing no doubt to the recollection of the lavish splendours of -‘Romeo and Juliet,’ some critics pronounced that it had been brought out -with but a moderate display of scenic resources. The truth was that the -play had been “mounted” with as much state as it would properly bear. -Some scenes were equipped in an unusually lavish and superb style. The -general effect, however, was harmonious; indeed, the happy tact of the -manager was never displayed to such advantage as in seizing on what might -be termed the proper key of the piece. When we recall, with a pleasant -enjoyment, these various Lyceum spectacles, we find that there is no -confusion of one with the other, that each has a special, distinct note, -and thus is started a train of impressions, delightful for their variety, -which enrich the chambers of the memory. - -There was one scene which, for its splendour and originality, was to -be talked of for many a day, viz., the beautiful interior of a church -at Messina—the “Church Scene,” as it was called. The art displayed -here, the combination of “built-up” scenery with “cloths,” the rich -harmonious tintings, the ecclesiastical details, the metal-work, altars, -etc., made an exquisite picture.[32] The well-known passage of the -interrupted bridal was “laid out” with extraordinary picturesqueness, -much emphasis being given to the religious rites. It was felt, however, -that the genuflections before the altar were introducing rather too -awful a suggestion, though the intention was, no doubt, reverent. It -must be admitted by all whose memories wander back to that performance, -that the vision of this “Church Scene” rises before them with an almost -pathetic significance, owing in some part to the touching, sympathetic -acting of Miss Millward. By this emphasizing of the state and publicity -of the scene, the crowds and rich dresses and ecclesiastical robes, the -“distressful” character of such a trial for a young bride was brought out -in a very striking way. - -All eyes, as it may be conceived, were drawn to the figures of Benedick -and Beatrice, as portrayed by Irving and Ellen Terry. Their scenes were -followed with a delighted interest, and their gay encounters of wit and -flirtation gave unalloyed pleasure. Irving threw a Malvolian gravity over -the character, alternated by a certain jocoseness. - -These two characters, Benedick and Beatrice, are so much the heritage of -all lovers of true comedy, that everyone seems to have fixed a standard -for himself, which he will critically apply to every representation. This -partiality does not make us particularly _exigeant_, but we have each -our own fancies. There is nothing more interesting, entertaining, or -fruitful in speculation than the discussion of how favourite characters -in comedy should be represented. It is as though they were figures in -real life. For myself, I confess I should have preferred that the actor -had taken the character into still higher realms of airy comedy, and -had less emphasized the somewhat farcical passages. Benedick was a man -of capacity, a soldier, a gentleman, and though he was likely to be so -imposed upon, he would not have given his friends the satisfaction of -seeing him in this dejected condition, almost inviting laughter and rude -“rallying.”[33] - -During all this time, preparations for the great American visit were -being carefully matured. There is supposed to be a sort of hostility -between artistic gifts and business-like habits; but Irving has -always shown great capacity where organization and arrangement are in -question—he has the clearest vision, and the firmest, most decided -purpose. In this he has often suggested a surprising likeness to the -departed novelist Dickens, who was also remarkable for his business power -and decision of character, and whose motto it was to do every trifle in -the best way that it could be done. Anything worth doing at all, he would -say, was worth doing well. - -Nothing was left undone to ensure success. Everything was “thought -out” beforehand with the greatest care and deliberation. The American -manager, Abbey, who had undertaken the direction of the venture, and had -a vast store of experience and skill at command, planned, of course, -the arrangements of the visit; but the purely theatrical details were -thrown upon the English actor, who had to equip completely some dozen -plays with scenery, dresses, and properties. A following of from seventy -to a hundred persons—including actors, actresses, secretaries, scenic -and music artists, dressers, supernumeraries—was to be taken out.[34] -Further, with a view to making the company thoroughly familiar with the -_répertoire_, for months beforehand a sort of continuous rehearsal went -on before the regular Lyceum audiences; that is, all the stock-pieces -were revived one after the other, and performed with much care. - -The honours and flattering tributes that were now lavished on the -departing actor would have turned the head of one less sensible or -less unspoiled. The town seemed really to have “run horn-mad” after -him, and could talk of nothing but of him and his expedition. As was -to be expected, the compliment of a public dinner was the smallest of -these tributes. Presents and invitations were lavished upon him. In a -caricature he was shown as being profusely anointed, by critics and -others, from a tub filled with a composition labelled “butter.” In -another the Prince of Wales is obsequiously presenting an invitation, -which the actor excuses himself from accepting owing to “my many -engagements.” The most famous portrait-painter of the day begged -to be allowed to paint his picture, which he wished to offer as a -present to the Garrick Club.[35] Rumours were busily circulated—and -contradicted—that a knighthood had been offered and declined. - -The public dinner at St. James’s Hall was fixed for July 4—a compliment -to the American people. The list of stewards was truly extraordinary, -comprising almost everyone of mark in the arts and the great professions. -The Chief Justice, Lord Coleridge, who was himself setting out for a tour -in the States, was to take the chair. Mr. Gladstone and some Cabinet -Ministers were on the committee. There were three thousand applicants for -the five hundred possible seats, all that Mr. Pinches, the secretary—a -relation of the actor’s old master—could contrive to supply. Two Bishops -excused their attendance in flattering terms; and Mr. Gladstone would -gladly have attended, but was compelled by his duties to be absent.[36] -At this banquet, besides the Chief Justice and the Lord Chancellor of -Ireland, there were five other judges present, together with all that was -distinguished in the professions and arts. - -The Chairman, in a thoughtful and studied speech, delivered perhaps -one of the best _apologias_ for the actor that is ever likely to be -offered. The skill and moderation of the accomplished advocate was shown -to perfection: he did not adulate, but gave the actor a graduated and -judicious measure of praise for all he had done in the improvement in the -general tone, morals, and methods of the stage. Irving acknowledged these -compliments in grateful and heartfelt terms, addressed not so much to the -diners present as to the kingdom in general. - -After these metropolitan honours, he passed to Edinburgh, Glasgow, and -Liverpool. At each city he was greeted with complimentary banquets. -At Edinburgh he opened a new theatre, named in compliment to his own, -the Lyceum. He was invited to Hawarden by Mr. Gladstone, and also to -Knowsley, on a visit to Lord Derby. - -On October 10, 1883, the chief members of the company—over forty in -number—sailed for New York, under the conduct of Mr. Bram Stoker. Tons -of scenery, dresses, properties, etc., had been already shipped. The -following day Irving and Miss Terry embarked on board the White Star -liner, _The Britannic_. Up to the last moment telegrams and letters -containing good wishes literally by hundreds were being brought in. Even -while the vessel was detained at Queenstown, the Mayor and Corporation -of Cork seized the opportunity of saluting him with a parting address. -The incidents have been all described by my friend Mr. Joseph Hatton, who -attended the party as “historiographer”; and I may refer the reader to -his interesting volumes. - -The visit was to prove one long triumph, and the six months’ progress -a strange, wonderful phantasmagoria of receptions, entertainments, -hospitalities of all kinds. Novel and original, too, were the humours and -fashions that greeted them everywhere, and the eyes of the two players -must have often turned back with pleasure to that odd pantomime. - -‘The Bells’ was selected for the opening performance which was on October -29, 1883. Though his reception was overpowering and tumultuous, there was -some hesitation as to the success of the play itself, and the critics -seemed to be a little doubtful as to whether it fairly represented the -full measure of his gifts. ‘Charles I.’, however, followed, and the two -great artists made the profoundest impression. But when ‘Louis XI.’ and -‘Much Ado About Nothing’ were presented, all doubts vanished. Miss Terry -won all hearts; her sympathetic style and winsome ways made conquest of -every audience. Nothing struck the Americans with such astonishment as -the exquisite arrangement and “stage management” of the Shakespearian -comedy, the reserved yet effectively harmonious treatment of all the -details being a complete revelation. The actor’s consummate taste was -recognised; in fact, the result of the visit was a complete revolution -in all the American stage methods. The extraordinary record of lavish -hospitalities, tributes of all kinds, with the adventures, is set -forth fully in the story of the tour. But it is only by consulting the -American journals that we can gather a notion of the odd “humours,” -often grotesque, by which the American public displays its enthusiastic -approbation.[37] The “interviewers,” as may be imagined, were rampant, -and extracted from the genial and courteous actor opinions on everything -connected with his profession. One immortal criticism deserves to be -recorded here. “He has rung,” said a newspaper, “_the knell of gibbering_ -GOSH!”[38] - -The party remained in the country until the May of the year following. -The receipts exceeded every forecast, a quarter of a million dollars -having been taken in the first four weeks. But the expenses were -enormous. The substantial profit was found in Irving’s securing a new, -vast, and prominent audience in the West; in his winning the suffrages of -Americans abroad as well as of those at home, who became his most fervent -adherents. - -The following is an amusing scene. Irving had been invited to the -Journalists’ Club, and after the close of the performance of ‘Louis -XI.,’ the actor had come round to the club, where he partook of a supper -tendered to him by a few members in a private room. He had been in the -building three-quarters of an hour before he made known his presence by -coming upstairs, escorted by several gentlemen. The guest of the evening -then held an informal reception. - -“After he had said something pleasant to almost everyone, he volunteered -to do his share towards entertaining those present. It had been slightly -hinted to him that something of the kind was looked for, and he entered -into the spirit of the occasion. Then the great tragedian turned from -the serious to the comic. He recited, in a way that provoked roars of -laughter, the funny little poem, ‘Tommy’s First Love.’ - -“When this was over there was a unanimous shout, which lasted several -minutes. It was a loud cry for more. Mr. Irving expressed his willingness -to give another recitation, and called for a chair. After sitting down -he observed that, as all were standing, those in the rear could see but -indifferently. ‘Suppose we change the stage management,’ he suggested. -‘Can’t we all sit down?’ This was received with some merriment, as there -were few chairs in the room. Someone, however, saw Mr. Irving’s idea that -those in the front ranks should sit upon the floor, and in a moment the -four foremost lines were kneeling upon the carpet. - -“Mr. Irving then recited ‘Eugene Aram’s Dream.’ The splendid elocutionary -talents of the actor kept the audience spellbound. Every emotion, every -pang of the schoolmaster was vividly depicted by the expressive face of -the tragedian. The scene was a remarkable one. Mr. Irving threw himself -so earnestly into the character that at one time _he tore the white -necktie from his throat_ without realizing what he was doing, and, as -his features were wrought up to show the usher’s agony, similar lines -seemed to show themselves by sympathy in the faces of those present. At -the close of the recitation the motionless figures, some standing, some -sitting with crossed legs upon the floor, became moving, enthusiastic -men. Those on their feet threw their arms into the air and cheered as -if for dear life, while those on the floor bounded up simultaneously -and expressed their enthusiasm. It was some time before the excitement -subsided. - -“I recited that once to a friend of mine,” said Mr. Irving, after quiet -had been restored, “and what do you think he said? Why, he seriously -exclaimed: ‘There is one point in that story that I’d like to know -about. _What became of the boy?_’” This anecdote produced a chorus of -laughter. After shaking hands all round, Mr. Irving went downstairs and -out, accompanied by the club’s officers. Before he left the room, “Three -cheers for Mr. Irving” were called for and given by throats already -hoarse with applauding him. - -A second American expedition followed in the September of the same year, -during which a visit was paid to Canada. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -1884. - -‘TWELFTH NIGHT’—‘THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD’—OXFORD HONOURS. - - -On July 8, 1884, a few weeks after the return to London, ‘Twelfth Night’ -was brought out at the Lyceum, and, for luxury of scenery, dresses, and -mounting, fully equalled all its predecessors. Irving was, of course, -the Malvolio, which he rendered not exactly after Charles Lamb’s -interpretation, but, indeed, as anyone of Shakespearian intelligence -would have done, never lapsing into farce, but treating the whole -earnestly. It was a beautiful and graceful show, full of alternate -sympathy and humour. Personally we look back to it as one of the most -welcome and interesting of his revivals; all the incidents connected with -Viola, so charmingly interpreted by Ellen Terry, have an irresistible and -touching interest. The scenery was costly and exquisite, and reflected -the tone of the piece. The audience, however, listened with a somewhat -languid interest—some said because of the oppressive heat of a July -night, which fretted and put them out of humour; but I believe because -they were unfamiliar with the piece, and had not been “educated up to -it.” When the manager came out at the close, with all the good-humour -and freedom of a privileged favourite, he was confounded to find his -expressions of self-congratulation and satisfaction greeted with uncouth -denial and rude interruptions. He was not accustomed to such coarse -reception, and with much spirit he administered this well-deserved -chastisement: “I can’t understand how a company of earnest comedians and -admirable actors, having these three cardinal virtues of actors—being -sober, clean, and perfect—and having exercised their abilities on one of -the most difficult plays, can have given any cause for dissatisfaction.” -But there are curious idiosyncrasies in audiences, one of which is, as I -have noted, that they must be in some way familiar with the piece and its -incidents; and there must be broad, comprehensive types of character. Now -Malvolio, one of the most delicately exquisite of conceptions, it could -be seen, was almost unintelligible to “the general”: they took him for -some “crank,” or half-cracked being, appearing in his nightcap, etc. Sir -Toby and Sir Andrew and their rollickings were actually thought “low” or -vulgar, on the same principle that Tony Lumpkin’s alehouse friend could -not abide anything low. So much for the ignorant, ill-mannered section of -the audience. - -It was argued, indeed, by critics that Irving’s Malvolio was somewhat -_too_ much in earnest, and therefore was liable to be accepted by the -audience as a serious person, actually in love with his mistress, which -with his eccentricities and oddities became an impertinence. Whereas, -as Lamb says, by imparting a quaint humorousness, the audience sees the -absurdity of the jest and is amused. Elia, indeed, always insists that -the actor of such “fantastical” parts should hint to the audience, slyly, -as it were, that he is only half in earnest. - -A most delightful sense of pure natural comedy was induced by the -likeness between the Terrys, brother and sister, who had a sort of -Shakespearian elegance in their bearing. But this did not avail much -with the uncultured crowd. It was objected also that the play was set -forth somewhat pedantically and too much _au grand sérieux_, many of -the actors, not being comedians—witness Mr. Terriss—imparting a literal -tone to all they said and did. This was not without its effect on the -audience, who by the very promise of seriousness were beguiled into -expecting something serious. Irving himself was not wholly free from -this method; and in the strange scene of the imprisonment, so difficult -to “carry off,” he was deeply tragic, as if really suffering, and without -any underlying grotesqueness. His exit, too, with solemn menaces, had the -air of retributive punishment in store. - -Now followed a second expedition to the States, as well as to Canada, -the details of which I pass over. On the reopening of his theatre on -his return a rather disagreeable episode occurred, connected with an -alteration he had made in the arrangement of his house. It was announced -that places in the pit might be reserved and secured in advance, which -gave rise to indignant protest and to cries of “_Give us back our Pit_.” -The question was warmly discussed in the newspapers. - -The advantage of the debate was that it clearly established a true -theatrical principle—viz., that the pit and galleries are intended for -the crowd, and should be free and open to the “man in the street”: that -the best seats here must be the prize of the strongest and most patient. -The principle of numbering and booking, it was shown, would actually -abolish the pit. The judicious manager understood and recognised the -public discontent, and made announcement that on May 18 he would restore -the old custom. - -In accordance with his engagement, the manager now proceeded to get ready -Wills’s pleasing and sympathetic drama, ‘Olivia.’ This was no doubt -selected with a view to furnishing a fresh opportunity for the display -of Miss Terry’s attractions; but it will be seen that she was not to be -altogether the cynosure of the whole, and that two other accomplished -performers were to share the honours of the piece. It was produced on May -27, 1885, and excited much interest. The creation of Dr. Primrose is one -of the most interesting and most original of Irving’s characters. It is -elaborated and finished to the very highest point, and yet there is no -lack of simplicity or unaffected grace. The character suited him in every -way, and seemed to hold completely in check all his little “mannerisms,” -as they are called. There was a sort of Meissonnier delicacy in his -touches, and scarcely any other of his characters is so filled in and -rounded with unspoken acting—that is, by the play of facial expression, -gesture, walk, etc. It is, indeed, a delightful performance, and always -holds the audience, which attentively follows the Vicar’s successive -emotions. These the actor allows unconsciously, as it were, to escape -him, as he pursues his little domestic course unconscious of spectators. -One reason for this complete success was, of course, that Irving, like so -many others, had read, known, and felt this engaging character from his -childhood, altogether outside dramatic conditions, though of course it is -not every play that enjoys this advantage. - -As we look back to the Lyceum, the eye rests with infinite pleasure on -the engaging figure of the Vicar, with his powdered wig and rusted suit, -and that amiable smile of simplicity which betokened what agreeable -fancies were occupying his mind. There he was, the centre of a happy -family, content with the happiness of his wife and children. No picture -could have been prettier. With an exquisite feeling of propriety, the -quaint, antique associations were developed, and no more pleasing scene -could have been conceived, or one that lingers more in the memory, than -the scene at night, when the family are singing at the spinet, Moses -accompanying with his flute,[39] the Vicar in his chair, the cuckoo-clock -in the corner. It was a fine instinct that directed these things. - -It should be added that the piece had been somewhat altered from its -first shape, and no doubt gained from the manager’s suggestions. One -of the most astonishing things connected with it is the admirably firm -and coherent construction, it being laid out in the most effective way. -Its various characters are introduced with singular skill. The last -act seemed, indeed, somewhat superfluous and too much drawn out; but -the whole design was really admirable. Yet its adapter was admittedly -deficient in the arts of construction, and most of his other pieces -display singular and even ludicrous incoherencies. It might be that he -had received assistance in this individual case, or had been so inspired -by the subject as to triumph over his own defects. - -Such tales as these—world-wide stories that belong to all countries and -to all time—Shakespearian, in short—seem on repetition to have the air -of novelty; at least, they always interest. The situations are dramatic, -and the characters even more dramatic than the situations. Miss Terry’s -Olivia is not only one of her best characters, but is a most touchingly -graceful and varied performance. The gifted pair are indeed at their -best here. In the excellently-contrived scene at the Dragon, Miss Terry’s -transition of horror, astonishment, rage, shame, succeeding each other, -were displayed with extraordinary force and variety. Some insisted that -the part suffered from her restlessness, but, as it was happily said, -“She is for ever flickering about the stage in a series of _poses_, or -rather disturbance of _pose_, each in itself so charming that one can -hardly account for the distrust she herself shows of it by instantly -changing it for another.” The other characters were no less excellent -in their way. Terriss, as the Squire, was admirably suited, his very -defect—an excessively pronounced brusqueness—adding to the effect. I -recollect it was said at the time in the theatre that there was only the -one performer for Thornhill, and that one Terriss. He—and he only—must be -secured. He never performed so well as in this character. - -A year later there occurred what must have been one of the most -gratifying incidents in the actor’s career, and one of the most pleasant -to recall. The Oxford commencements, held on June 26, 1886, were more -than usually brilliant. At that time, the late learned and popular Dr. -Jowett was Vice-Chancellor, a man, as is well known, of the largest -sympathies. Though a divine, he took a deep interest in Irving and his -profession. On its being proposed to confer honorary degrees on certain -distinguished guests, including Mr. John Bright, the Vice-Chancellor, it -is said, suggested the name of the well-known actor. There was something, -as I say, dramatic or characteristic in this proposal, coming as it -did from so expressive a personality. The University, however, was not -prepared to go so far as this, though the proposal was only negatived, -it is said, by a narrow majority of two votes. The vigorous purpose of -the Vice-Chancellor was not to be thus baffled, and by a brilliant _coup_ -he contrived that the very omission of the actor’s name—like the absence -of one portrait from a series—should suggest that the chief performer -had been “left” out, and thus supplied a fresh element in the brilliancy -of his reception. He invited him to deliver a lecture on his art in the -very precincts of the University, and under the patronage of its most -distinguished professors and “Heads,” and it may be conceived that the -figure of the popular player became the cynosure of attraction in the -brilliant academic show. - - “For when the well-grac’d actor quits the scene, - The eyes of men are idly bent on him that enters next.” - -When it became known that the actor was to give his address, everyone -of note and culture and importance in the place rushed to secure seats. -Some fourteen hundred persons were present, with most of “the Heads of -Houses,” and distinguished professors. Dr. Jowett welcomed him in some -warm and well-chosen phrases, telling him how much honoured they felt by -his coming to them. A good English actor, he said happily enough, lived -in the best company—that of Goethe and Shakespeare; and coming from such, -he might seem to convey that he was good enough company for them. - -But during the year 1892 the University of Dublin was the first to -recognise officially the actor’s position, and at the celebration of its -tercentenary conferred on him the degree of Doctor of Letters, in company -with many distinguished men. Indeed, Irving’s sympathetic temperament -has always been specially acceptable to this University, and the youths -of Trinity College from the beginning were eager to exhibit their -appreciation and admiration of his talent. They would attend him home -from the theatre in uproarious procession, and sing songs in his praise -in the galleries. So early as June, 1877, he had given a reading in the -University in its great Examination Hall. The Provost, the Dean, and -other “dons” all attended. He gave ‘Richard III.,’ a chapter of ‘David -Copperfield,’ and ‘Eugene Aram.’ An illuminated address was presented to -him, and to make the day truly festive and collegiate, the actor dined in -the hall, the guest of the college, and went his way covered with honours. - -Later came the turn of Edinburgh, where he was much considered, and in -1881 delivered a lecture before the Edinburgh Philosophical Institute. -He gave, also, an interesting lecture on acting at the Royal Institution -in London. With pleasure, too, must he look back to his welcome at -Harvard University, in the United States. The novelty of the scene, the -warm welcome accorded to him in a strange land, must have made a most -welcome form of honour. He delivered a lecture on the “Art of Acting”—his -favourite topic—in the great Sande’s Theatre, into which over two -thousand persons were crowded—the usual audience was sixteen hundred. An -enormous crowd blocked the doors, so that the actor on his arrival could -not gain admittance, and had to be taken in by a subterranean passage. -The president was in a conspicuous place, and all the professors and -dons attended. Another American University, that of Cambridge, also -invited him to lecture (rather to give instruction) before them, and -the newspapers of the country declared that the honours with which he -was welcomed were really “unprecedented.” Again he discoursed on the -“Art of Acting.” An even more flattering and unusual compliment was -the invitation to the Military Academy at West-point, where, with his -company, he performed ‘The Merchant of Venice’ in Elizabethan dresses, -but without scenery—to the huge enjoyment of professors and students. -Here is a round of University distinctions that has never fallen to the -lot of any other actor. We may see in it an instinctive recognition of a -cultured and artistic feeling that has influenced the community and done -excellent educational service. - -Irving had long wished to display his sardonic power in Goethe’s great -character of Mephistopheles. He had already given proof of his quality -in this line in Louis XI. and Richard III.; but there was a piquancy -and range in Mephistopheles which naturally offered him an attraction, -from the mixture of the comic or grotesque with deep tragic force. It -also offered room for a superb and almost unlimited display of scenic -magnificence. It was no secret, too, that in this particular display he -was resolved to surpass all his previous efforts. - -To Wills was entrusted the work of preparing the adaptation, this writer -having, as I said, a command of flowing and melodious versification, -which, moreover, was fitted to the actor’s delivery. The adapter had -completed his task many years before, and the piece had long lain in the -manager’s desk. During this period he let his conception of the piece -slowly ripen; he discussed it with scholars; thought over it; while -the adapter, a German student himself, revised his work at intervals -according to the views of his chief. All this was judicious enough. It -was, however, destined to be the last work that he was to prepare for his -old friend and faithful Lyceum patron. It must be said that the latest -adapter was not altogether well fitted for the task, as he was too much -given to descriptions and “recitations,” while Mephistopheles might have -been made far more of. - -The preparations made were of the most thorough kind. For months the -manager’s rooms were hung round with a profusion of sketches by artists -of all kinds, relics of Nuremberg and the Goethe country, with old -engravings of Albert Dürer, and great folios of costumes. To permeate -himself with something of the tone and feeling of the piece, he travelled -in Germany, accompanied by his scene-painter, Mr. Craven. Both stayed -at Nuremberg, where the artist imbued himself with the whole poetry of -the old city. Everyone of artistic feeling will recall one truly romantic -scene—a simple cloth set very forward on the scene, perhaps to its -disadvantage—a view of the old city, with its dull red high roofs and -quaintly-peaked spires. - -During the preparations, the theatre, now some eighty years old, had been -redecorated afresh, but at the complete sacrifice of the old Vestris -adornments, the elegant medallions or cameos, and the double-gilt -pillars, which were thought to interfere with the view. The outline of -the dress-circle was brought forward with some gain of space, and its -graceful undulations were abolished. For such changes no one can be -brought to account—the irresistible pressure of the time and the laws of -convenience bring them about. An entirely new system of decoration was -introduced, suggested by that of Raffaelle’s Loggie at the Vatican, which -seemed scarcely sober enough for an auditorium. More structural changes -were also made in the interests of the galleries, of which the manager -has always shown himself careful. - -On December 19, 1886, the piece was produced. There was the now -invariable excitement of a Lyceum _première_, and there were stories -of frantic efforts, grovellings, implorings, etc., to obtain a seat. A -peer had actually been seen in the gallery—and was more than content -with his place. The Royal Family were in their box, and the Prince, then -in mourning, watched the play from behind the scenes. Mephistopheles -was destined for many a night to give the keenest enjoyment to vast -audiences. It was, indeed, a most original conception. With successive -performances he enriched it with innumerable telling and grotesque -touches; for, as I have said, the adapter had “laid out” the character on -rather conventional lines. In spite of all these defects, he suggested -the notion of “uncanniness” and a supernatural _diablerie_. His antic -scaring of the women at the church-door will be recalled by many. -Miss Terry’s Marguerite was full of pathos and poetry, occasionally -suggesting, as in the “Jewel” scene, the operatic heroine. But at the -first performance it became plain that a serious mistake had been made -in the choice of Conway for the hero, Faust. He seemed scarcely to feel -or understand the part; there was a lack of passion and sympathy. It -was, indeed, an overwhelming burden for a player whose gifts lay in the -direction of light comedy. - -But on one Saturday night the audience was somewhat astonished to see -before them a new Faust, one who, moreover, came on with a book in his -hand, which he continued to read aloud even after Mephisto had paid him -his visit through the steam clouds. It proved that Conway was suffering -from gout, and Alexander, resigning his own character to Tyars, took the -_rôle_ of Faust, which on the following night he assumed permanently, and -“discharged” in the regular way. Considering the shortness of the notice, -he performed this awkward duty _en vrai artiste_—as, indeed, might be -expected.[40] However, the cast was further strengthened by the excellent -Mrs. Stirling, whose part was scarcely worthy of her. Placing a strong -performer in a part that is inferior in strength, instead of improving or -fortifying, only further brings out the poverty of the character. - -In this piece numerous scientific devices were introduced to add to -the effect, such as the clouds of steam which veiled the apparition of -Mephistopheles, a device of French origin. This is scarcely illusive, as -it is attended by an unmistakable “hissing” sound, as of a locomotive; -it seems what it is—namely, steam. The blue electric light flashed with -weird effect as the swords of Valentine and Faust crossed. But here again -there was an electric wire and “contact,” and a current “switched on.” -It may be paradoxical to say so, but these “advances” in scenic art are -really retrograde steps. - -Of the regular scenes or structures put on the stage, it would be -difficult to say too much. The grandly-built porch of the Church of St. -Lorentz Platz at Nuremberg, and the buildings grouped round it, were -extraordinary works of construction, the porch being “moulded” in all its -details, and of the real or natural size. Another scene that lingers in -the memory with a sort of twilight melancholy is the garden scene, which -again illustrates the admirable instinct of the manager. Red-brick walls -of calm, quiet tones, old trees, and, above all, the sombre towers of -the city, were seen in the distance. The dresses of the characters were -chosen to harmonize, and the deep sunset cast a melancholy glow or tinge -over all. The most striking effects were contrived by changes of the -lights and “mediums.” - -The Brocken scene, for its vastness and ambitious attempt to suggest -space and atmosphere, has never been surpassed. Most people were struck -by the bewildering crowd of unearthly spirits, witches, and demons, etc.; -but the real marvel was the simulation of the chill mountain atmosphere, -the air of dizziness, of mists that hover over vast crevasses and depths, -and make one shiver to look at. The designing, direction, and controlling -of the elements in this wonderful scene seemed a bewildering and gigantic -task. - -The vision of Angels in the last act seemed a little conventional. There -were many objections, too, taken mostly by Germans, to the treatment of -the great story, such as the fixing of the scene at Nuremberg instead of -at Leipsic, the placing the drinking bout in the open air, and at the -tavern door, instead of in Auerbach’s cellar. These changes could not, of -course, be justified, save on the ground of theatrical expediency. - -For seven months, though ‘Faust’ continued to attract vast houses, it had -really, as the manager said, “only started on its wild career.” On the -occasion of Miss Terry’s benefit, he made an interesting, half-jocular -speech announcing his plans. - -The ninety-ninth night of ‘Faust’ was celebrated in a remarkable and -somewhat appropriate fashion. The venerable Abbé Liszt was at this time -in London, followed with an eager curiosity, affecting even the “cabbies” -with interest, who were heard talking of the “Habby List.” No one who -had seen him at this time will forget the striking personality of this -interesting and brilliant man. He was induced to visit the theatre, -and to witness the performance. After the first act, the orchestra -broke into his own “Hungarian March,” and, being presently recognised -by the audience, the great virtuoso received a perfect ovation. He -followed the piece throughout with singular interest, and applauded -with enthusiasm. After the play was over, he was welcomed at a supper -in the old Beef-steak dining-room, where there were invited to meet him -a few distinguished persons. His favourite dishes—“lentil pudding, lamb -cutlets, mushrooms in batter”—were prepared for him by Gunter’s _chef_. -He was delighted with this delicate hospitality. This is one of the many -pleasant and dignified memories associated with the Lyceum. - -It was when ‘Faust’ was being played that the catastrophe of the burning -of the French Opéra Comique occurred. This excited general sympathy, -and the kindly manager of the Lyceum promised that when the proper -time came he would furnish assistance. In due course a performance of -‘Faust’ was announced for the benefit of the sufferers, and a crowded -audience assembled. Everyone concerned—and they were to be counted by -hundreds—gave their services gratis—the manager behaved in his own -liberal style—and, as the result, a sum of £419 was despatched to Paris. -This liberality was much appreciated by the French press. The _Figaro_ -devoted an article to a review of the various characters played by the -English actor, and in flattering terms pointed out that, notwithstanding -all his detractors, Mr. Henry Irving was “the most perfect gentleman.” - -During the performance of ‘Faust,’ Miss Terry found the fatigue -excessive, and, not being very strong at the time, had to resign her -part. During these intervals, the character was supported by a clever -young actress, bearing an historic name, Miss Winifred Emery, who brought -much intelligence and refinement to her task. It was generally agreed -that, considering her resources, she had supplied the place of the absent -actress very well indeed. The _feu sacré_ was, of course, not to be -expected, and cannot be supplied to order. - -This appreciation of our manager-actor by the French will naturally -suggest the inquiry, What is his reputation generally in that eminently -theatrical country, whence we draw our chief supply of dramas and -dramatic ideas, and whose school of acting is perhaps the first in -Europe? So frequent have been the visits of French companies to London, -that nearly all the leading performers have had opportunities of seeing -the English actor perform. Their ignorance of the language has, of -course, stood in the way of a satisfactory judgment—they cannot follow -the play as an average Englishman will follow a French piece; but all -have been struck by his fine faculty of imparting colour and romance to -a character, and have broken into raptures over the intelligence that -directs the scene, and the lavish magnificence of the _spectacle_. - -The memorable visit of the French Comedy to London in 1879, and the -fine series of performances in which every player of note displayed -his talent, curiously coincided with the new departure on the English -stage. Few will forget the deep impressions left by that season or the -opportunities afforded for a liberal education in dramatic taste. With -the company came the _fine fleur_ of French critics, Sarcey, Claretie -(since become director of the company he had so often criticized), and -others of less note. These judges were glad to seize an opportunity, -which under other circumstances they would never have thought of -seeking, of visiting the Lyceum and witnessing the performances of the -most distinguished of English actors. I recall Sarcey at this time, a -coarsely-built man, with not very refined features, lounging night after -night into his stall, with an air of something like arrogance. He did -not relish his enforced banishment from the Boulevards, and indemnified -himself by making rather free criticisms on the French players. He was -induced to go and see some of the English performances, but with an -amusing hauteur pleaded his ignorance of the language as an excuse for -not passing any serious judgment. - -“Having weighed the matter well, I have determined to say very little -regarding English actors. I have as yet seen but a few, and those only -through the medium of a language imperfectly understood. I should be -placing myself in a ridiculous position if I had the impertinence to -touch upon matters which I am thus incompetent to deal with. I may -remark, however, that Mr. Henry Irving appeared to me a remarkable actor, -notwithstanding a wilful tendency to exaggeration. Possibly, in this -latter respect, he followed rather the taste of his audience, whom his -instinct judges, than his own deliberate choice.” - -To these brilliant and gifted strangers, however, the new manager did the -honours of his craft and extended to them a kindly hospitality. Indeed, -since that day, no distinguished artist has visited these shores without -being welcomed with rare hospitality.[41] - -The most accomplished of French comedians is Coquelin _ainé_, an -extraordinary performer, from the versatility and even classical -character of his talents. This gifted man, who never appears without -imparting intellectual enjoyment of the highest kind, seems to have -always been attracted to the English actor, though exhibiting his -feelings in an oddly mixed fashion, compounded of admiration and -hostility. Analysis of the workings of character is the most entertaining -of pastimes, and is, of course, the foundation of theatrical enjoyment; -and the public has much relished the controversies between two such -eminent personages. In 1886 Coquelin, during a supper at Mrs. Mackay’s, -was invited in a very flattering way by the Prince of Wales to play in -London under Mr. Mayer. At this time, in obedience to the very natural -“force and pressure” of gain which was beginning to dissolve the great -company of the French Comedy, he had begun to “star it,” as it is called, -in the various capitals of Europe, and having found himself appreciated -in London at private houses, as well as on the stage, he seems to have -nourished a feeling that he was contending for the suffrages of the -public with the English actor! Not that he was conscious of any actual -“jealousy,” but something of this impression was left on those who were -watching the incident. In matters of art, however, such contentions are -healthy, and pardonable enough. - -An early token of this curious feeling was offered in an article -published in _Harper’s Magazine_ in May, 1887, where the French actor -discussed with some acuteness the different systems of acting in England -and in France, particularly in the matter of what is called “natural” or -materialistic acting. He dwelt on the question how far the gifts of the -comedian will enable him to exhibit tragic characters, contending that -the practice of minute observation would materially aid him. - -What was in Coquelin’s thoughts all this time would appear to have been -a sort of eagerness to measure himself with the English actor in ‘Le -Juif Polonais,’ which he looked upon as his own, and which had made a -reputation for Irving. With some lack of taste or tact, Coquelin later -challenged an English audience to decide between the two readings of -Mathias. He performed it, I think, on two different occasions. It was an -interesting and instructive experiment, for it proved that two artists -of eminence might legitimately take directly opposite views of the same -character. But does not character in real life offer the same varieties -of interpretation? Coquelin presented a sort of comfortable _bourgeois_, -a tradesman-like personage, who was not likely to reach the heroic or -melodramatic place. He was not over-sensitive, nor was his remorse very -poignant; and the keynote to his agitation was the desire to be thought -respectable, to keep his position, and not be found out. It was agreed -that the two conceptions were altogether opposed. “Irving’s hero was a -grave, dignified, and melancholy being; Coquelin’s was a stout Alsatian, -well-to-do, respected by his neighbours, but still on an equality -with the humble folk around him. Irving’s was a conscience-stricken -personage; Coquelin’s had no conscience at all. Irving’s was all remorse; -Coquelin was not in the least disturbed. He takes delight in his ill-got -treasures. The only side on which he is assailable is that of his fears, -and the arrival of the second Jew, so like the first, terrifies him; and -too much wine on the night of the wedding brings on the disturbed dream.” -The question might be thus summarized: Irving’s reading was that of a -tragedian; Coquelin’s that of a comedian. For myself, I confess a liking -for both. - -A friendly and even enthusiastic appreciation of the actor was furnished -by Jules Claretie, then a critic of eminence. “His reputation,” he said, -“would be even greater than it is if he had the leisure to extend his -studies and correct his faults; but, as Mr. Walter Pollock remarks, a man -who has to play six or seven times a week can hardly be expected to find -much time for study. England, unlike France, does not possess a national -theatre. - -“‘Richelieu’ was the first play in which I saw Mr. Irving in London. -Here he is superb. The performance amounts to a resurrection. The great -Cardinal, lean, worn, eaten up with ambition, less for himself than for -France, is admirably rendered. His gait is jerky, like that of a man -shaken by fever; his eye has the depth of a visionary’s; a hoarse cough -preys upon that feeble frame. When Richelieu appears in the midst of the -courtiers, when he flings his scorn in the face of the mediocrity that -is to succeed him, when he supplicates and adjures the vacillating Louis -XIII., Mr. Irving endows that fine figure with a striking majesty. - -“What a profound artist this tragedian is! The performance over, I -was taken to see him in his dressing-room. I found him surrounded by -portraits of Richelieu. He had before him the three studies of Philippe -de Champaigne, one representing Richelieu in full face, and the others in -profile. There was also a photograph of the same painter’s full-length -portrait of the Cardinal. Before playing Louis XI. again, Mr. Irving -studied Commines, Victor Hugo, Walter Scott, and all who have written -of the _bourgeois_ and avaricious king, who wore out the elbows of his -_pourpoint de ratine_ on the tables of his gossips, the skin-dressers -and shoemakers. The actor is an adept in the art of face-painting, and -attaches great importance to the slightest details of his costume. - -“I asked him what other historical personage he would like to represent, -what face he, who excelled in what I call stage-resurrection, would wish -to revive. He reflected a moment, his countenance assuming a thoughtful -expression. ‘Français ou Anglais?’ he at length asked. ‘Français ou -Anglais: peu importe,’ I replied. ‘Eh bien!’ he said, after another short -pause, ‘je serais heureux de créer un Camille Desmoulins.’ - -“Mr. Irving’s literary and subtle mind leans to psychological plays—plays -which, if I may so express myself, are more tragic than dramatic. He -is the true Shakespearian actor. How great was the pleasure which the -performance of ‘Hamlet’ afforded me! For a literary man it is a source of -real enjoyment. Mr. Irving, as manager of the Lyceum, spends more than -£3,000 a month to do things on an adequate scale. His theatre is the -first in London. He would like to make it a sort of Comédie Française, as -he would like to found a sort of Conservatoire to afford young English -artists the instruction they stand so much in need of. - -“In Louis XI. Mr. Irving has been adjudged superior to Ligier. Dressed -with historical accuracy, he is admirable in the comedy element of the -piece and the chief scenes with the Monk and Nemours. The limelight -projected like a ray of the moon on his contracted face as he pleads for -his life excited nothing less than terror. The hands, lean and crooked as -those of a Harpagon—the fine hands whose character is changed with each -of his _rôles_—aid his words. And how striking in its realism is the last -scene, representing the struggle between the dying king and his fate!” - -Another admirable French player, Got, once the glory of the French -Comédie, and unquestionably the most powerful and varied performer of his -day, used to come a good deal to London between the years 1870 and 1880. - -It was a singular tribute to Irving that so great a player, in his day -greater even than Coquelin, should have been drawn from his retirement -to take up one of his characters. Got, the “Dean of the French stage,” -as Irving is “Dean” of the English theatre, by-and-by felt himself -irresistibly impelled to give his version of ‘The Bells.’ He induced a -Paris manager to draw forth the long-forgotten piece from its obscurity, -and presented Mathias very much on the _bourgeois_ lines of Coquelin. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -1887. - -‘FAUST’—‘WERNER’—‘MACAIRE’—THE ACTOR’S SOCIAL GIFTS. - - -He was now preparing for his third American tour, the object of which -was to introduce to the audiences of the United States his splendid -spectacular piece, ‘Faust.’ This had excited much interest and -expectation, and its attractions were even magnified by distance. It -was the “last word” in scenic display. The Americans have now become -a section, as it were, of the Lyceum audiences, and it would seem to -be inevitable that at fixed intervals, and when a series of striking -plays have been given in England, the manager should feel a sort of -irresistible pressure to present the same attractions on the other side -of the Atlantic. This expedition took place in October, 1887, and was -crowned with all success. Henceforth the periodical visit to America will -become a necessity; and a new visit was already planned in concert with -Mr. Abbey, which was fixed for 1893. - -On the return of the company, after their United States triumphs, ‘Faust’ -was revived for a short period. At the close of the first performance the -manager announced his plans, which were awaited with some curiosity. “The -devil,” he said, “had been to and fro on the face of the earth.” After -a month of ‘Faust,’ he proposed to give Mr. Calmour’s ‘Amber Heart,’ to -bring forward Miss Terry, while he himself was to conclude the evening -with a revival of ‘Robert Macaire.’ - -On July 1, 1887, the manager of the Lyceum performed one of those many -kindly, graceful acts with which his name is connected—an act done at -the right moment, and for the suitable person. He gave his theatre to -benefit a veteran dramatist, Dr. Westland Marston, who in his day had -been associated with the classical glories of the stage, and had written -the interesting ‘Wife’s Secret’ for Charles Kean. As he now told the -audience from the stage, fifty years had elapsed since he had written his -first piece for Macready. The committee formed was a most influential -one, and comprised the names of such eminent _littérateurs_ as Browning, -Alfred Austin, E. W. Gosse, William Black, Wilkie Collins, Gilbert, -Swinburne, Tennyson, and many more. The performance was an afternoon -one, and the play selected was Byron’s ‘Werner,’ written “up to date,” -as it is called, by Frank Marshall. New scenery and dresses had been -provided, though the actor did not propose giving another representation. -He, however, intended to perform it on his approaching American tour. It -must be said that the play gave little satisfaction, and was about as -lugubrious as ‘The Stranger,’ some of the acts, moreover, being played in -almost Cimmerian gloom. What inclined the manager to this choice it would -be difficult to say. He has rather a _penchant_ for these morosely gloomy -men, who stalk about the stage and deliver long and remorseful reviews -and retrospects of their lives. The audience, however, sympathizes, and -listens with respectful attention. - -‘Werner’ was to illustrate once more the conscientious and laborious care -of the manager in the production of his pieces. He engaged Mr. Seymour -Lucas to furnish designs for the dresses, who drew his inspirations -from an old volume of etchings of one “Stefano della Bella” in 1630. So -patiently _difficile_ is our manager in satisfying himself, that it is -said the dresses in ‘Faust’ were made and re-made three times before they -were found satisfactory. In this case all the arms of antique pattern, -the dresses, quaint head-dresses, and the like, even down to the peculiar -buttons of the period, were made especially in Paris under Auguste’s -superintendence. - -‘Robert Macaire,’ that strange, almost weird-like drama, was familiar -enough to Irving, who had occasionally played it in the early part -of his course, and also at the St. James’s Theatre in 1867. For all -performers of genius who have taste for the mere _diablerie_ of acting, -and the eccentric mixture of tragic and comic, this character offers an -attraction, if not a fascination. We can feel its power ourselves as we -call up the grotesque figure; nay, even those who have never seen the -piece can have an understanding of the character, as a coherent piece -of grotesque. There is something of genius in the contrasted and yet -intimate union between the eccentric pair. In June, 1883, there had been -a performance at the Lyceum for the Royal College of Music, when Irving -had played the character, assisted by “friend Toole,” Bancroft, Terriss, -and Miss Terry—certainly a strong cast. Toole, on this occasion, was -almost too irrepressible, and rather distorted the proportion of the -two characters, encroaching on the delicate details in the part of his -friend, and overflowing with the pantomimic humours, or “gags,” which -are the traditions of Jacques Strop. When the piece was formally brought -out, the part was allotted to Mr. Weedon Grossmith, who was in the other -extreme, and too subordinate. - -The play was produced in July, 1888, and was found not so attractive as -was anticipated. It seemed as though it were not wholly intelligible -to the audience. There were some reasons for this, the chief being the -gruesome assassination at “the roadside inn,” which is old-fashioned, -being literally “played out.” More curious was it to find that the -quaint type of Macaire seemed to convey nothing very distinct. All -accepted it as an incoherent extravagance: which opens an interesting -speculation—viz., How many such parts are there which have been the -characters of the original actors, and not the author’s—the former’s -creation, in short? Lemaître’s extraordinary success was, as is well -known, the result of a happy inspiration conceived during the progress -of the piece. From being a serious or tragic character, he turned it -into a grotesque one. There may have been here something founded on the -sort of _gaminerie_ that seems to go with crime; or it may have been -recklessness, which, together with a ludicrous attempt at a squalid -dandyism, showed a mind not only depraved, but dulled and _embêté_. This -sort of inspiration, where an actor sees his own conception in the part -and makes it his own, is illustrated by ‘The Bells,’ which—in the hands -of another actor—might have been played according to conventional laws. - -An English actor who would have succeeded in the part was the elder -Robson. In Irving’s case, the audience were not in key, or in tune; the -thing seemed _passé_, though our actor had all the traditions of the -part, even to the curiously “creaking snuff-box.”[42] - -Among Wills’s friends, admirers, and associates—of which his affectionate -disposition always brought him a following—was Calmour, the author of -some pieces full of graceful poetry of the antique model. Like Mr. -Pinero, he “knew the boards,” having “served” in the ranks, an essential -advantage for all who would write plays; had written several slight -pieces of a poetical cast, notably ‘Cupid’s Messenger,’ in which the -graceful and piquant Mary Rorke had obtained much success in a “trunk and -hose” character. But a play of a more ambitious kind, ‘The Amber Heart,’ -had taken Miss Terry’s fancy; she, as we have said, had “created” the -heroine at a _matinée_. It proved to be a sort of dreamy Tennysonian -poem, and was received with considerable favour. - -‘The Amber Heart,’ now placed in the bill with ‘Robert Macaire,’ was -revived with the accustomed Lyceum state and liberality. To Alexander was -allotted the hero’s part, and he declaimed the harmonious lines with good -effect. I fancy the piece was found of rather too delicate a structure -for such large and imposing surroundings.[43] - -Whenever there is some graceful act, a memorial to a poet or player to be -inaugurated, it is pretty certain that our actor-manager will be called -on to take the leading and most distinguished share in the ceremonial. -At the public meeting, or public dinner, he can deport himself with much -effect. - -There are plenty of persons of culture who have been deputed to perform -such duties; but we feel there is often something artificial in their -methods and speeches. In the case of the actor, we feel there is a -something genuine; he supplies a life to the dry bones, and we depart -knowing that he has added grace to our recollections of the scene. -Nor does be add an exaggeration to what he says; there is a happy -judicious reserve. This was felt especially on the occasion of one -pleasant festival day in the September of 1891, when a memorial was -unveiled to Marlowe, the dramatist, in the good old town of Canterbury. -It was an enjoyable expedition, with something simple and rustic in the -whole, while to anyone of poetical tastes there was something unusually -harmonious in the combination offered of the antique town, the memory -of “Dr. Faustus,” the old Cathedral, and the beaming presence of the -cultured artist, of whom no one thought as manager of a theatre. A crowd -of critics and authors came from town by an early train, invited by the -hospitable Mayor. At any season the old town is inviting enough, but now -it was pleasant to march through its narrow streets, under the shadow of -its framed houses, to the small corner close to the Christ Church gate -of the Cathedral, where the speeching and ceremonials were discharged. -The excellent natives seemed perhaps a little puzzled by the new-found -glories of their townsman; they were, however, glad to see the well-known -actor. Equally pleasant, too, was it to make our way to the old Fountain -Inn, where the “worthy” Mayor entertained his guests, and where there -were more speeches. The image of the sleepy old town, and the grand -Cathedral, and of the pretty little fountain—which, however, had but -little suggestion of the colossal Marlowe—and the general holiday tone -still lingers in the memory. Irving’s speech was very happy, and for its -length is singularly suggestive. - -It was in October, 1887, that a memorial was set up at Stratford, a -clock-tower and fountain, in memory of Shakespeare. It was the gift of -the wealthy Mr. Childs, of New York, who has been hitherto eager to -associate his name, in painted windows and other ways, with distinguished -Englishmen of bygone times. It may be suspected that Childs’s name will -not be so inseparably linked with celebrated personages as he fondly -imagined. There is a sort of incongruity in this association of a casual -stranger with an English poet. - - * * * * * - -Many a delightful night have his friends owed to the thoughtful kindness -and hospitality of their interesting host. Such is, indeed, one of the -privileges of being his friend. The stage brings with it abundance of -pleasant associations; but there are a number of specially agreeable -memories bound up with the Lyceum. Few will forget the visit of the -Duke of Meiningen’s company of players to this country, which forms -a landmark of extraordinary importance in the history of our modern -stage. With it came Barnay, that accomplished and romantic actor; and a -wonderful instinct of disciplining crowds, and making them express the -passions of the moment, as in Shakespeare’s ‘Julius Cæsar.’ The skilful -German stage-managers did not import their crowds, but were able to -inspire ordinary bands of supernumeraries with the dramatic feelings and -expression that they wanted. - -I recall one pleasant Sunday evening at the close of a summer’s day, -when Irving invited his friends to meet the German performers at the -Lyceum. The stage had been picturesquely enclosed and fashioned into -a banqueting-room, the tables spread; the orchestra performed in the -shadowy pit. It was an enjoyable night. There was a strange mingling -of languages—German, French, English. There were speeches in these -tongues, and at one moment Palgrave Simpson was addressing the company in -impetuous fashion, passing from English to French, from French to German, -with extraordinary fluency. Later in the evening there was an adjournment -to the Beef-steak rooms, where the accomplished Barnay found himself at -the piano, to be succeeded by the versatile Beatty-Kingston, himself half -German. There were abundant “Hochs” and pledging. Not until the furthest -of the small hours did we separate, indebted to our kindly, unaffected -host for yet one more delightful evening. - -The manager once furnished a pleasantly piquant afternoon’s amusement -for his friends on the stage of his handsome theatre. Among those who -have done service to the stage is Mr. Walter Pollock, lately editor -of the _Saturday Review_, who, among his other accomplishments, is a -swordsman of no mean skill. He has friends with the same tastes, with -whom he practises this elegant art, such as Mr. Egerton Castle, Captain -Hutton, and others. It is not generally known that there is a club known -as the Kerneuzers, whose members are _amateurs enragés_ for armour and -swordsmanship, many of whom have fine collections of helmets, hauberks, -and blades of right Damascene and Toledo.[44] - -Mr. Egerton Castle and others of his friends have written costly and -elaborate works on fencing, arms, and the practice of _armes blanches_, -and at their meetings hold exciting combats with dirk and foil. It was -suggested that Mr. Castle should give a lecture on this subject, with -practical illustrations; and the manager, himself a fencer, invited a -number of friends and amateurs to witness the performance, which took -place on February 25, 1891. This lecture was entitled “The Story of -Swordsmanship,” especially in connection with the rise and decline of -duelling. And accordingly there was witnessed a series of combats, -mediæval, Italian, and others, back-sword, small-sword, sword and cloak, -and the rest. Later the performance was repeated at the instance of the -Prince of Wales. - -Irving has often contributed his share to “benefits” for his distressed -brethren, as they are often called. In the days when he was a simple -actor he took his part like the rest; when he became manager he would -handsomely lend his theatre, and actually “get up” the whole as though -it were one of his own pieces. This is the liberal, _grand_ style of -conferring a favour. Miss Ellen Terry “takes her benefit” each year. - -In June, 1876, a performance was arranged at the Haymarket for a benefit, -when the ever-blooming ‘School for Scandal’ was performed by Phelps, -Miss Neilson, “Ben” Webster, Irving, Bancroft, and others. Irving was -the Joseph Surface, a performance which excited much anticipation and -curiosity. Some time after he performed the same character at Drury Lane. -It might naturally have been thought that the part would have exactly -suited him, but whether from novelty or restlessness, there was a rather -artificial tone about the performance. But what actor can be expected to -play every character, and to find every character suited to him? Joseph -we hold to be one of the most difficult in the whole _répertoire_ to -interpret. At the Belford benefit—and Belford and his services to the -stage, such as they were, are long since forgotten—the all but enormous -sum of £1,000 was received! For schools, charities, convents even, and -philanthropic work of all kinds, some contribution from Henry Irving in -the shape of a recitation or scene may be looked for. - -Irving s vein of pleasantry is ever welcome as it is unpretentious. I -have heard him at the General Theatrical Fund dinner give the toast of -“The Army, Navy, and Reserve Forces,” when he said, “There is an Artists’ -Corps—I am curious to know why there should not be an Actors’ Corps. -_We are accustomed to handle weapons._” On this occasion “friend Toole” -had to leave on duty; “whose fine Roman visage,” said his friend, “has -beamed on us during dinner—he has been obliged to go away, fortified, I -hope, for his arduous labours, but he will return—I know him well—and he -will too, I am sure, with a most excellent donation.” He can tell a story -or relish a humorous situation with equal effect. In company with Toole, -he has often contrived a droll situation or comic adventure.[45] - -At one period, when he was oppressed with hard work, it was suggested -to him that sleeping in the country would be a great restorative after -his labours. He much fancied an old house and grounds at Hammersmith, -known as “The Grange”; and having purchased it, he laid out a good deal -of money in improving and restoring it It had nice old gardens, with -summer-house, a good staircase, and some old panelled rooms. - -To a man with such social tastes, the journey down and the night spent -there must have been banishment, or perhaps was found too troublesome. -Literary men, artists, and the like do not much relish these tranquil -pleasures, though practical men of business do. I am certain most will -agree that they leave Fleet Street and the Strand with reluctance and -return to it with pleasure. After a few years he was anxious to be rid of -what was only a useless toy, and it was offered for sale for, I think, -£4,000.[46] - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -1888. - -‘MACBETH’—‘THE DEAD HEART’—‘RAVENSWOOD.’ - - -The approach of the opening night of ‘Macbeth’ caused more excitement -than perhaps any of the Lyceum productions. There was a sort of fever of -expectancy; it was known that everything in the way of novelty—striking -and sumptuous dress and scenery, elaborate thought and study, and -money had been expended in almost reckless fashion. There were legends -afloat as to Miss Terry’s marvellous “beetle-green” dress, and the -copper-coloured tresses which were to hang down on her shoulders.[47] The -scenery was to be vast, solid, and monumental. It was no surprise when it -was learned that before the day of performance some £2,000 had been paid -for seats at the box-office. - -While allowing due praise to the accomplishments and sagacity of our -dramatic critics, I confess to looking with some distrust and alarm -at a sort of “new criticism” which, like the so-called “new humour,” -has developed in these latter days. This amounts to the assumption of -an aggressive personality—there is a constant manifestation, not of -the play or performers criticised, but of the writer’s own thoughts -and opinions. It seems to be the fashion for a critic to devote his -article to Mr. ——, an opposing critic, as though the public attached any -importance to the opinions these gentlemen held of each other. The vanity -thus unconsciously displayed is often ludicrous enough. The instances, -however, are fortunately rare. - -Produced on December 29, the play caused considerable excitement -among Shakespearian students and “constant readers”; and Miss Terry’s -reading—or rather the appearance of Miss Terry in the part—produced much -vehement controversy. We had “The Real Macbeth” in the _Daily Telegraph_, -with the usual “old playgoers” who had seen Mrs. Charles Kean. I fancy -there were but three or four persons who were able to compare the -performance of Miss Terry with that of Mrs. Siddons—about sixty years -before.[48] - -Banquo’s ghost has always been a difficulty in every presentation of the -play; all the modern apparitions and phantasmagorian effects neutralize -or destroy themselves. The powerful light behind exhibits the figure -through the gauzes, but to procure this effect the lights in front must -be lowered or darkened. This gives notice in clumsy fashion of what is -coming, and prepares us for the ghost. - -“New and original” readings rarely seem acceptable, and, indeed, are -scarcely ever welcomed by the public, who have their old favourite lines -to which they are well accustomed. We never hear one of these novelties -without an effect being left as of something “purely fantastical,” as -Elia has it, and invariably they seem unacceptable and forced, producing -surprise rather than pleasure. Irving rarely introduces these changes. A -curious one in ‘Macbeth’ was the alteration of a line— - - “She should have died hereafter,” - -into - - “She would have died hereafter.” - -That is a sort of careless dismissal of his wife’s death, as something -that must have occurred, according to the common lot. - -The irresolution and generally dejected tone of the Scottish King, as -presented by the actor, was much criticised, and severely too. There -was something “craven,” it was said, in this constant faltering and -shrinking. This, however, was the actor’s conscientious “reading” of -the part: he was not bound by the Kemble or Macready traditions, but -irresistibly impelled to adopt the highly-coloured “romantic” view of our -day. He made it interesting and picturesque, and, in parts, forcible. -Miss Terry’s Lady Macbeth filled everyone with wonder and admiration; as -in the case of her Queen Katherine, it seemed a miracle of energy and -dramatic inspiration triumphing over physical difficulties and habitual -associations. The task was herculean, and even those who objected could -not restrain their admiration.[49] - -The pictures set forth in this wonderful representation linger in the -memory. The gloomy Scottish scenes, the castles and their halls, the fine -spreading landscapes, the treatment of the witches, and Banquo’s ghost, -were all but perfect in tone, and had a judicious reserve. There was -nothing overlaid or overdone. How admirably and exactly, for instance, -did the scene correspond to the beautiful lines: - - “This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air - Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself.” - -There painting and poetry went together! The banqueting-hall, the -arrangement of the tables, at right angles with the audience, had a -strange, barbaric effect, the guests being disposed in the most natural -fashion. - -After the run of ‘Macbeth’ had ceased, the manager proceeded to carry out -a plan which had long been in his thoughts, and which many had suggested -to him. This was to give “readings,” in conjunction with Miss Terry, -of some of his plays. This would offer some respite from the enormous -outlay entailed by producing these great pieces at his theatre. One -could fancy that nothing could be more attractive than such “readings,” -the interest in the personality of the two great performers being so -generally diffused. He re-arranged “Macbeth” for this purpose, and set -off on a tour in the provinces. But though everywhere well received, -I think the plan did not command the full success that was expected. -There was a defect somehow in the plan: two characters seemed to rob the -performance of that _unity_ which is the charm of a reading. Further, -it was illustrated by the fine music, with orchestra, etc., and this -again disturbed the natural simplicity of a reading. The actor’s own -vividly-coloured imagination and tastes could not, in fact, be content -with the bald and _triste_ mechanisms of the ordinary reader: he tried -to impart what ornamentation he could. The experiment was not, however, -carried out very long.[50] - -Some thirty years before, in the old Adelphi days, when “Ben” Webster -was ruling, a drama was produced, the work of a hard-working, drudging -dramatist, Watts Phillips. It was a pure melodrama, and people had not -yet lost their faith in the old devices. There was an honest belief -that villainy would be punished ere the end came. By the laws of such -pieces, the most painful situations were always contrasted with scenes -of broadest farce, which were supposed to relieve the excited feelings. I -well recall these humours. On the revival, however, all this was softened -away or abolished, and, I fancy, with some injury to the constitution of -the old piece. - -The production of ‘The Dead Heart’ furnished one more instance of the -tact and abilities which have secured the manager of the Lyceum his high -position. Here was a piece of an old-fashioned kind, which, had it been -“revived” at an ordinary theatre, would have been found not only flat and -stale, but unprofitable for all concerned. Our manager, seeing that it -had dramatic life and situations, brought the whole into harmony with the -times, and, by the skilful _remaniement_ of Mr. Walter Pollock, imparted -to it a romantic grace. It is admitted that he himself has rarely been -fitted with a part so suited to his genius and capacities, or in which he -has roused the sympathies of his audience more thoroughly. It is only the -romantic actor that understands what might be called the _key_ of a play. - -In this picturesque part of Robert Landry were exhibited no fewer than -four contrasted phases of character: the gay, hopeful young artist; the -terribly metamorphosed prisoner of nearly twenty years; the recently -delivered man, newly restored to the enjoyment of life; and, lastly, -the grim revolutionary chief, full of his stem purpose of vengeance. -This offered an opening for the display of versatile gifts, which were -certainly brought out in the most striking contrast. But it was in the -later scenes of the play, when he appears as the revolutionary chief, -that our “manager-actor” exhibited all his resources. Nothing was more -artistic than the sense of restraint and reserve here shown, which is -founded on human nature. A person who has thus suffered, and with so -stem a purpose in view, will be disdainful of speech, and oppressed, as -it were, with his terrible design. Quiet, condensed purpose, without any -“fiendish” emphasis, was never better suggested. Even when the drop-scene -is raised, and he is revealed standing by his table, there is the same -morose unrelenting air, with an impression that here was one who had just -passed through the fire, and had been executing an act of vengeance which -had left its mark. - -In a drama like ‘The Dead Heart,’ music forms a fitting accompaniment -furnishing colour and appropriate illustration. It is almost -uninterrupted from beginning to end. M. Jacobi of the Alhambra furnished -some effective, richly-coloured strains to ‘The Dead Heart,’ alternately -gay and lugubrious. More, however, might have been made of the stirring -‘Marseillaise,’ which could have been treated in various disguises -and patterns as a sort of _Leitmotiv_, much as Litolf has done in his -symphonic work on the same subject. - -A Scotch play—an adaptation of ‘The Bride of Lammermoor’—was now prepared -by Mr. Herman Merivale, a dramatist of much poetical feeling, but whose -course was marked by piteous and disastrous incidents. Buoyed up by the -encouragement and admiration of his friends, and of kindly critics who -found merit in all he did, he struggled on in spite of miserable health -and a too highly-strung nervous temperament. His work showed refinement -and elegance, but it was more for the reader than the playgoer. A gleam -of prosperity, however, came when Mr. Toole began to figure in the -writers grotesque pieces, ‘The Don,’ and others—to which, indeed, the -author’s wife had contributed some share. - -The new piece, which was called ‘Ravenswood,’ had lain long in the -manager’s cabinet, where at this moment repose a number of other MSS., -“commanded” and already purchased, from the pens of Wills, Frank -Marshall, and others. The latter had fashioned Robert Emmett into a -picturesque figure, the figure and bearing of the manager having no doubt -much that suggested the Irish patriot; but the troubled period of Land -Leagues and agrarian violence set in at the time of its acceptance with -an awkward _à propos_.[51] - -There is a character, indeed, in which, as the tradition runs, he -formerly made almost as deep an impression as in ‘The Bells.’ This was -Bill Sikes, and we can conceive what a savagery he would have imparted to -it. It would seem to be exactly suited to his powers and to his special -style; though of course here there would be a suggestion of Dubosc. With -Miss Terry as Nancy here would be opened a realm of squalid melodrama, -and “Raquin-like” horrors. - -There are other effective pieces which seem to invite the performance of -this accomplished pair. Such, for instance, is the pathetic, heartrending -‘Venice Preserved.’ Though there might be a temptation here for the -scenic artist—since Venice, and its costumes, etc, would stifle the -simple pathos of the drama. ‘The Taming of the Shrew’ has been often -suggested and often thought of, but it has been effectively done at this -theatre by another company. ‘The Jealous Wife’—Mr. and Mrs. Oakley—would -also suit well. There is ‘The Winter’s Tale,’ and finally ‘Three Weeks -after Marriage’—one of the most diverting pieces of farcical comedy that -can be conceived. - -‘Ravenswood’ was produced on September 20, 1890. While its scenes were -being unfolded before us one could not but feel the general weakness -of the literary structure, which was unequal to the rich and costly -setting; neither did it correspond to the broad and limpid texture of -the original story. It was unfortunately cast, as I venture to think. -Mackintosh, who performed Caleb, was somewhat artificial; while Ashton -père and his lady, rendered by Bishop and Miss Le Thière, could hardly -be taken _au sérieux_. Irving infused a deep and gloomy pathos into his -part, and Miss Terry was, as ever, interesting, touching, and charming. -But the characters, as was the story, were little more than thinly -outlined. The scenes, however, unfolded themselves with fine spectacular -effect; nothing could be more impressive than the scene of the first -act—a mountain gorge where Ravenswood has come for the entombment of his -father, and is interrupted by the arrival of his enemy, Ashton. Beside -it the Merivale version appeared bald enough. The weird-like last scene, -the “Kelpie Sands,” with the cloak lying on the place of disappearance, -the retainer gazing in despair, was one of Irving’s finely poetical -conceptions, but it was more spectacular than dramatic. The truth is, -where there is so fine a theatre, and where all arts are supplied to set -off a piece in sumptuous style, these elements require substantial stuff -to support them, otherwise the effect becomes trivial in exact proportion -to the adornment. - -Irving has been often challenged for not drawing on the talent of native -dramatists, and for not bringing forward “new and original” pieces. -The truth is, at this moment we may look round and seek in vain for a -writer capable of supplying a piece large and forcible enough in plot and -character to suit the Lyceum. We have Pinero and Henry Arthur Jones, but -they are writers of comedies and problem-dramas. Wills, in spite of his -faults, had genuine faith in the old methods. He was of the school of -Westland Marston. In this dearth of talent, it might be well for Irving -to give a commission to a French dramatist to work on whatever subject he -fancied, and have the piece adapted. - -It was at the Christmas season of 1891 that the manager was enabled -to carry out a plan that had for years been before him—a revival of -‘Henry VIII.’ We can quite conceive how, as the fashion always was with -him, the play ripened as it were with meditation; how, as he walked or -followed the consoling fumes of his cigar in his chamber at Grafton -Street, each scene fell into shape or suggested some new and effective -arrangement, which again might be discarded as difficulties arose, or -as something happier occurred to him. The result of these meditations -was unquestionably a “large” and splendid setting of the play, which, -to my mind, whatever be the value of the opinion, is certainly one of -the finest, most finished, most poetical, and sufficient of the many -works that he has set before us.[52] There was a greater Shakespearian -propriety, and the adornments, however lavish, might all be fairly -justified. Most to be admired was the supreme elegance of touch found in -every direction—acting, scenery, dresses, music, all reflected the one -cultivated mind. The truth is, long practice and the due measuring of his -own exertion have now supplied an ease and boldness in his effects. To -appreciate this excellence we have only to turn to similar attempts made -by others, whether managers, or manager-actors, or manager-authors—and -we find only the conventional exertion of the scene-painter and -stage-manager. They have not the same inspiration. - -This play, produced on January 5, 1892, was received with great -enthusiasm. It became “a common form” of criticism to repeat that it was -of doubtful authorship; that it was nothing but a number of scenes strung -together; that there was no story; that Buckingham vanished almost at the -beginning of the play; and that towards the end, Wolsey vanished also. -These, as I venture to say, are but ignorant objections; characters will -always supply a dramatic story, or a dramatic interest that amounts to a -story, and in the fate of Wolsey and of Katherine, gradually developed -and worked out, we had surely a story sufficiently interesting. - -I have little doubt that Irving kept steadily in view the object the -great author had before him, viz., to present a page of history enriched -by all the suitable accompaniments of dress and manners and customs. In -this he was perfectly and triumphantly successful. We were taken into -the great chambers, and tribunals; shown the ecclesiastical pomp and -state, so difficult to conceive now; the processions passing through -the streets, and presented in an exceedingly natural and unconventional -fashion.[53] The drama was set forth fully, with every adjunct of dress, -furniture, scenes, and numbers of auxiliaries. - -The scenery, offering wonderful perspectives of Tudor halls and -interiors, the arrangements of the courts and various meetings, were -original and very striking. Yet here I should be inclined to suggest -anew the objections often made to the modern system of large groupings -compressed into the small area of a stage, which, as it seems, is -opposed to the canons of scenic art.[54] These, too, seemed to acquire -new force from the arrangement of the “Trial scene,” as it was called, -which displayed a great hall with the daïs, seats for the Cardinal, the -King, etc. The result of thus supplying a great area by the system of -compression (I am speaking merely of the principle), is that the leading -figures become dwindled in scale and overpowered by the surrounding -crowd. The contrast with the older system is brought out by Harlow’s -well-known picture, where only the leading figures are grouped, and where -by consequence they stand out in greater relief. The spectator stands, as -it were, close beside them; but by the modern arrangement he appears to -be afar off, at the bottom of the hall, obtaining but a distant view of -them.[55] - -When we consider what are the traditions of the two great characters, how -vivid they are, from the deep impressions left by the great brother and -sister on their contemporaries—an impression which has really extended -to our time—too much praise could hardly be given to the performance -of Irving and his gifted companion. Irving’s Wolsey was exactly what -those familiar with his other impersonations could anticipate—poetical, -elegant, and in many portions powerful. He was the churchman to -perfection, carrying his robes admirably; in the face there was a -suggestion of the late departed Cardinal Manning. All through the piece -there was that picturesque acting which fills the eye, not the ear, at -the moment when speech is at rest. It is thus that are confuted those -theorists, including Elia, who hold that Shakespeare is to be read, not -acted. - -It is perhaps the power of suggestion and of stirring our imagination -that brings about this air of fulness and richness. Irving, when he -was not speaking, _acted_ the pomp and state and consummately depicted -the smoothness of the Cardinal. When he was lost to view you felt -the application of the oft-quoted line touching the absence of “the -well-grac’d” actor from the scene, and it was wonderful to think, as we -glanced round the brilliant _salle_—glittering with its vast crowd of -well-dressed, even jewelled, women (“Quite an opera pit!” as Ellison -would say)—to the fine stage before us, with its showy figures, pictures, -and pageants, that all this was _his_ work and of his creation! - -There were many diverse criticisms on Irving’s conception of this famous -character; some held that it was scarcely “large,” rude, or overbearing -enough. His view, however, as carried out, seemed natural and consistent. -The actor wished to exhibit the character as completely overwhelmed by -adverse fortune; witness Macbeth, Othello, and many other characters. In -the last great soliloquy it was urged there was a want of variety. Still, -allowing for all traditional defects, it stands beyond contradiction that -it was a “romantic” performance, marked by “distinction,” and a fine -grace; and we might vainly look around for any performer of our time -who could impart so poetical a cast to the character. And we may add a -praise which I am specially qualified to give, viz., that he was the -perfect ecclesiastic: as he sat witnessing the revels, now disturbed, now -careless—there was the Churchman revealed; he was not, as was the case -with so many others, a performer robed in clerical garb. - -Of Miss Terry’s Queen Katharine, it can be said that it was an -_astonishing_ performance, and took even her admirers by surprise. -She made the same almost gigantic effort as she did in ‘Macbeth’ to -interpret a vast character, one that might have seemed beyond her -strength, physical as well as mental. By sheer force of will and genius -she contrived to triumph. It was not, of course, the _great_ Queen -Katharine of Mrs. Siddons, nor did she awe and command all about her; -but such earnestness and reality and dramatic power did she impart to -the character that she seemed to supply the absence of greater gifts. -Her performance in the Court and other scenes of the persecuted, hunted -woman, now irritated, now resigned, was truly pathetic and realistic. -There may have been absent the overpowering, queen-like dignity, the -state and heroism, but it was impossible to resist her—it was her “way,” -and by this way she gained all hearts. It must be confessed that nothing -ever supplied such an idea of the talents and “cleverness” of this truly -brilliant woman as her victory over the tremendous difficulties of these -parts. The performance won her the sympathies of all in an extraordinary -degree. - -So admirably had our manager been penetrated with the spirit of the -scenes, that he was enabled to present them in a natural and convincing -way, and seemed to revive the whole historic time and meaning of the -situation. This was particularly shown in the scene when Buckingham is -led to execution; his address to the crowd was delivered with so natural -a fashion, with such judicious and pathetic effect, that it not only -gained admiration for the performance, but brought the scene itself -within range of every day life. For, instead of the old conventional -declamatory speech to a stage crowd, we had some “words” which the -sufferer, on entering the boat, stopped for a moment to address to -sympathizers who met him on the way. - -The music, the work of a young composer, Mr. Edward German, was truly -romantic and expressive; stately and richly-coloured. How wonderful, by -the way, is the progress made of late years in theatrical music! We have -now a group of composers who expend their talents and elegancies in the -adornment of the stage. The flowing melodies and stately marches of the -Lyceum music still linger in the ear. - -It was in January, 1892, when he was performing in ‘Henry VIII.,’ that a -very alarming piece of news, much magnified by report, reached him. His -son Laurence was playing at Belfast in the Benson Company, and had by -some accident shot himself with a revolver; this casualty was exaggerated -to an extraordinary degree,—three local doctors issued bulletins; “the -lung had been pierced”—until the anxious father at last sent over an -experienced surgeon, Mr. Lawson Tait, who was able to report that the -wound was trivial, and the weapon a sort of “toy-pistol.” Much sympathy -was excited by this casualty. The manager has two sons, Henry and -Laurence, the latter named after Mr. Toole, who are now both following -their father’s profession. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -1892. - -‘KING LEAR’—‘BECKET.’ - - -After presenting so many of Shakespeare’s great dramas, it was to be -expected that the manager could not well pass by what has been justly -styled the Titanic play of ‘King Lear.’ This had, indeed, always been -in his thoughts; but he naturally shrank from the tremendous burden -it entailed. It was prepared in his usual sumptuous style. There were -sixteen changes of scene and twenty-two characters, and the music was -furnished by Hamilton Clarke. The scenery was divided between Craven and -Harker, the latter a very effective artist of the same school. There -were some beautiful romantic effects: the halls, the heath, and notably -the Dover scenes, were exquisite. I doubt if their presentation has been -excelled by any preceding attempts. The barbaric tone and atmosphere -of the piece was conveyed to perfection, without being insisted on or -emphasized. It is only when we compare the ambitious attempts of other -managers who would indulge in effects equally lavish and sumptuous, -that we recognise the ability, ease, reserve, and force of the Lyceum -manager.[56] They, too, will have their “archæology” and their built-up -temples, designed by painters of repute, and crowds; but there is present -only the sense of stage effect and the flavour of the supernumerary. -The secret is the perfect subordination of such details to the general -effect. They should be, like the figures on a tapestry, indistinct, but -effective as a background. Charles Lamb’s well-worn dictum, that ‘Lear’ -should never be acted, was trotted forth in every criticism. There -is some truth in this exaggerated judgment, because it can never be -_adequately_ presented, and the performance must always fall short of the -original grandeur. With his remarks on the pettiness of the stage-storm, -one would be inclined to agree, even on this occasion, when every art was -exhausted to convey the notion of the turmoil of the elements. The truth -is, an audience sitting in the stalls and boxes will never be seduced -into accepting the rollings and crashings of cannon-balls aloft, and the -flashing of lycopodium, as suggesting the awful warring of the elements. - -‘Lear’ was brought forward on Thursday, November 10, 1892, and its -presentation was a truly romantic one. The figure had little of the -usual repulsive aspects of age—the clumsy white beard, etc.—but was -picturesque. The entry into his barbaric court, the strange retainers -with their head-dresses of cows’ horns, was striking and original. The -whole conception was human. The “curse” was delivered naturally. In -presenting, however, the senile ravings of the old monarch, the actor -unavoidably assumed an indistinctness of utterance, and many sentences -were lost. This imperfection was dwelt on in the criticisms with -superfluous iteration, and though the actor speedily amended and became -almost emphatically distinct, this notion seemed to have settled in the -public mind, with some prejudice to the success of the piece. Though -he was thus quick to remedy this blemish, distinctness was secured by -deliberation, and at some loss of effect. The actor’s extraordinary -exertions—for he was at the same time busy with the preparation of a new -piece—exhausted him, and obliged him for some nights to entrust the part -to another. But the real obstacle to full success could be found in the -general lugubrious tone of the character; the uninterrupted sequence -of horrors and distresses led to a feeling of monotony difficult for -the actor to vanquish. The public never takes very cordially to pieces -in which there is this _sustained misery_, though it can relish the -alternations of poignant tragedy attended by quick dramatic changes. -Cordelia, though a small part, was made prominent by much touching pathos -and grace, and the dying recognition by the old King brought tears to -many eyes.[57] - -An interesting feature in Irving’s career has been his long friendship -with Tennyson, poet and dramatist, which lasted for some fifteen or -sixteen years. The actor showed his appreciation of the poet’s gifts by -the rather hazardous experiment of presenting two of his poetical dramas -to the public. We have seen what sumptuous treatment was accorded to -‘The Cup’; and in ‘Queen Mary’ the actor contributed his most powerful -dramatic efforts in the realization of the grim Philip. - -The poet, however, made little allowance for the exigencies of the -stage. During the preparation of ‘The Cup,’ he contended eagerly for the -retention of long speeches and scenes, which would have shipwrecked the -piece. Yet, undramatic as most of his dramas are, a taste for them was -springing up, and not long before his death he had the gratification of -knowing that his ‘Foresters’ had met with surprising success in America. -No less than six pieces of his have been produced, and though the idea -prevails that he has been “a failure” as a dramatist, it will be found -that on the whole he has been successful. It may be that by-and-by he -will be in higher favour. But he will have owed much to Irving, not -merely for presenting his plays with every advantage, but for putting -them into fitting shape, with firm, unerring touch removing all that is -superfluous. - -So far back as the year 1879 the poet had placed in Irving’s hands a -drama on the subject of Becket and the Fair Rosamund. It was really -a _poem_ of moderate length, though in form a drama, and the actor -naturally shrank from the difficulties of dealing with such a piece. -The “pruning knife” would here have been of little avail; the axe or -“chopper” would have to be used unsparingly. The piece was accordingly -laid aside for that long period; the lamented death of the poet probably -removed the chief obstacle to its production. It is said, indeed, -that almost one-half was cut away before it could be put in shape for -performance. On Monday, February 6, 1893, the actor’s birthday, this -posthumous piece was brought out with every advantage, and before an -assemblage even more brilliant than usual. It revived the memories of -the too recent ‘Henry VIII.,’ in which there is much the same struggle -between Prince and Bishop. The actor has thus no less than three eminent -Catholic ecclesiastics in his _répertoire_—Richelieu, Wolsey, and Becket; -but, as he pleasantly said, he could contrast with these an English -clergyman, the worthy Dr. Primrose, Vicar of Wakefield. Yet he admirably -and dramatically distinguished their several characters. - -There is always a curiosity to have the curtain lifted, so that we may -have a glimpse of a play in the throes and troubles of rehearsal. Mr. -Burgin, in one of the magazines, gave a very dramatic sketch of how -things were conducted during the preparation of ‘Becket’: - -“After Mr. Irving has grouped the men on the benches, he steps back -and looks at the table. ‘We ought to have on it some kind of mace or -crozier,’ he says—‘a large crozier. Now for the “make up.” All the -barons and everyone who has a moustache must wear a small beard. All the -gentlemen who have no beards remain unshaven. All the priests and bishops -are unshaven. The mob can have slight beards, but this is unimportant. -Now, take off your hats, gentlemen, please. Some of you must be old, some -young. Hair very short;’ and he passes from group to group selecting the -different people. ‘Now, I think that is all understood pretty well. Where -are the sketches for dresses?’ - -“The sketches are brought, and he goes carefully through them. Miss -Terry and Mr. Terriss also look over the big white sheets of paper. -The fox-terrier strolls up to the group, gives a glance at them, and -walks back again to Miss Terry’s chair with a slightly cynical look. -Then Mr. Irving returns to the groups by the benches. ‘Remember, -gentlemen, you must be arguing here, laying down the law in this way,’ -suiting the action to the word. ‘Just arrange who is to argue. Don’t -do it promiscuously, but three or four of you together. Try to put a -little action into it. I want you to show your arms, and not to keep -them glued to your sides like trussed fowls. No; that isn’t half enough -action. Don’t be frightened. Better make too much noise rather than too -little, but don’t stop too suddenly. Start arguing when I ring the first -bell. As I ring the second bell, you see me enter, and stop.’ The dog -stands one bell, but the second annoys him, and he disappears from the -stage altogether, until the people on the benches have finished their -discussion. - -“Mr. Irving next tries the three-cornered stools which are placed around -the table, but prefers square ones. The dog returns, walks over to the -orchestra, looks vainly for a rat, and retreats under the table in the -centre of the stage as if things were getting really too much for him. -But his resting-place is ill-chosen, for presently half-a-dozen angry -lords jump on the table, and he is driven forth once more. After a stormy -scene with the lords, Mr. Irving walks up the steps again. ‘When I say -“I depart,” you must let me get up the steps. All this time your pent-up -anger is waiting to burst out suddenly. Don’t go to sleep over it.’ He -looks at the table in the centre of the stage, and turns to a carpenter. -‘This table will never do. It has to be jumped on by so many people that -it must be very strong. They follow me.’ (To Miss Terry) ‘They’d better -catch hold of me, up the steps here.’ - -“Miss Terry: ‘They must do something. They can’t stand holding you like -that.’ - -“Mr. Irving: ‘No.’ The door opens suddenly at top of steps, and discovers -the crowd, who shout, ‘Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord.’ - -“The doors open and the crowd shout, but the effect is not good. - -“Miss Terry: ‘It would be better if it were done at the foot of the -steps. The people needn’t show their faces as they do it, and the effect -will be so much better.’” - -‘Becket’ contained thirty characters, and was set off by fine scenery -and excellent music, written specially by Professor Stanford, this not -being the first time his notes had been associated with the poet. Never -have Irving’s efforts been greeted with such overpowering, tumultuous -applause. At the end of every act there were as many as five “recalls.” -In such pieces, as well as in some of Shakespeare’s, there is always a -matter of interesting debate in fixing the era, dresses, architecture, -etc.—a matter perhaps of less importance than is supposed. Irving’s -conception of ‘Becket’ was truly picturesque and romantic; he imported -a pathetic tone, with a sort of gloomy foreboding of the impending -martyrdom, conveyed by innumerable touches. The actor has the art of -moulding his features and expression to the complexion of the character -he is performing nightly. Thus, in ‘Becket,’ it can be seen that he had -already assumed the meditative, wary look of the aspiring ecclesiastic. - -It is evidence of the interest excited by ‘Becket,’ that a little -discussion arose between a Benedictine Father and another ecclesiastic on -the hymn, “Telluris ingens Conditor,” which was played in the cathedral -scene and through the piece. The Benedictine contended that it must have -been some older form of the hymn before the pseudo-classicalization -“of the Breviary Hymns in the sixteenth century.” “I do not suppose,” -he added, “that Mr. Irving’s well-known attention to detail extends to -such _minutiæ_ as these. The famous cathedral scene, in his presentment -of ‘Much Ado about Nothing,’ was received with a chorus of praise as a -marvel of liturgical accuracy. But I am told that to Catholic eyes at -least some of its details appeared incorrect.” Thus, to the monastery -even, does the fame of our manager’s efforts reach! - -One of the most remarkable things connected with ‘Becket’ was the -unanimous applause and approbation of the entire press.[58] Even one or -two evening papers, which had spoken with a little hesitation, returned -to the subject a few nights later to correct their judgment and to admit -that they had been hasty. All confessed that they had been captivated by -the picturesqueness of the central figure. - -Apart from his professional gifts, Irving is assuredly one of those -figures which fill the public eye, and of which there are but few. This -is owing to a sort of sympathetic attraction, and to an absence of -affectation. He plays many parts in the social scheme, and always does -so with judiciousness, contributing to the effect of the situation. -His utterances on most subjects are thoughtful and well considered, -and contribute to the enlightenment of the case. At his examination -by the London County Council, when many absurd questions were put to -him, he answered with much sagacity. His views on the employment of -children in theatres are truly sensible. More remarkable, however, are -his opinions on the science of acting, the art of management, and of -dealing with audiences and other kindred topics, which show much thought -and knowledge. He has, in truth, written a great deal, and his various -“discourses,” recently collected in a pretty little volume, do credit to -his literary style and power of expression.[59] - -Here we must pause. We have seen what our actor has done, what a change -he has worked in the condition of the stage: what an elegant education -he has furnished during all these years. And though he has been -associated with the revival of the stage, and a complete reform in all -that concerns its adornment, it will be his greatest glory that he has -presented SHAKESPEARE on a grand scale, under the sumptuous and judicious -conditions and methods that have made the poet acceptable to English -audiences of our day. - -There have been many laments over the fleeting, evanescent character of -an actor’s efforts. If his success be triumphant, it is like a dream for -those who have not seen. Description gives but the faintest idea of his -gifts. The writer, as it were, continues to write after his death, and -is read, as he was in his lifetime. But the player gone, the play is -over. The actor, it is true, if he be a personality, has another audience -outside his theatre. As I have shown in these pages, he can attract by -force of character the interest and sympathies of the general community. -Whatever he does, or wherever he appears, eyes are turned to him as they -would be to one on a stage. There is a sort of indulgent partiality in -the case of Irving. He is a dramatic figure, much as was Charles Dickens. -Eyes are idly bent on him that enters next. And this high position is not -likely to be disturbed; and though all popularity is precarious enough, -he has the art and tact to adapt his position to the shifty, capricious -changes of taste, and in the hackneyed phrase is more “up to date” than -any person of his time. The fine lines in ‘Troilus and Cressida’—the -most magnificent in Shakespeare, as they seem to me—should ring in every -actor’s ear, or indeed in that of everyone that enjoys public favour. -Alas! it must be his lot to be ever at the oar. There is no relaxing, no -repose; no coy retirement, or yielding to importunate rivalry: - - “To have done, is to hang quite out of fashion, - Like a rusty mail in monumental mockery.... - For honour travels in a strait so narrow, - Where one but goes abreast: keep, then, the path; - For emulation hath a thousand sons, - That one by one pursue: if you give way, - Or turn aside from the direct forth-right, - Like to an enter’d tide, they all rush by, - And leave you hindmost;—and there you lie - Like a gallant horse fallen in first rank, - For pavement to the abject rear, o’er-run - And trampled on; then, what they do in present, - Though less than yours in past, must o’ertop yours.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -1893. - -‘KING ARTHUR’—CORPORAL BREWSTER—HONOURS. - - -When the theatre opened for the season, ‘Faust’ was revived to fill -the time, and it drew excellent and satisfactory “houses” until the -new piece was got ready. This, it was said, was rehearsed on board the -steamer on the way home. Our actor had long before him the idea of -playing the “spotless King,” and had the late Laureate been alive he -might have been tempted to shape his great poem into a play. As it was, -the versatile Comyns Carr was intrusted with the task, and, somewhat -to the surprise of the public, he who had been art-critic, manager of -Grosvenor and New Galleries, dramatist and designer of dresses, etc., for -the Lyceum, now came forward as a poet; and a very respectable poet he -proved to be, with harmonious mellifluous lines, effective from a stage -point of view. It must be said, however, that the play is altogether a -literary one, and rather lacks dramatic movement. It is really a series -of dramatic recitations set off by beautiful shows, processions, and -scenic views. The situations, too, scarcely brought about or led up to, -are effective enough when we reach them. The piece was no doubt “written -in the theatre” under inspiration of the manager, and supplied exactly -what he wanted. The scenery was designed by Sir E. Burne Jones, who -supplied some exquisite combinations or arrangements of colour, which -were certainly new to stage-land. The music was Sir Arthur Sullivan’s, -and there was later to be the unusual and unprecedented incident of no -fewer than _three_ knights—a musician, a painter, and an actor—combining -their talents in a single play. Beautiful was the opening scene with -the blue waters and the swimming maidens imported from ‘Rheingold,’ -with the finding of the “Excalibur” contrived most skilfully. There -were grand halls and castles, and woodland groves, all exhibiting much -originality of touch, that unvarying effective grace and tact which made -the most of the materials. The characters were rather faintly outlined. -King Arthur and his queen are comparatively colourless; so is Elaine. -Mr. Forbes Robertson, who played Lancelot with picturesque power, was -early withdrawn, being bound by some other engagement. His successor, a -pleasing light comedian, lacks the weight necessary for the character. -Miss Terry was, as usual, touching and pathetic. So refined, so perfect -was the general treatment, that it attracted and drew larger and yet -larger houses. - -As the season went on, the manager, following his favourite policy, -prepared a series of revivals on a gigantic scale. These were virtually -convenient rehearsals for the coming American tour. But the constant -changes of scenes, dresses, etc., involve an enormous strain. The -round of pieces included, within the space of a few weeks, no fewer -than eleven plays: ‘Faust,’ ‘King Arthur,’ ‘Louis XI.,’ ‘Merchant of -Venice,’ ‘Becket,’ ‘Much Ado about Nothing,’ ‘The Lyons Mail,’ ‘Charles -I.,’ ‘Nance Oldfield,’ ‘Corsican Brothers,’ ‘Macbeth.’ A new short -piece, ‘Journeys End in Lovers Meeting,’ by George Moore and John Oliver -Hobbes, which was to introduce Miss Terry, was also announced. The burden -of “staging” all these great works, in a short time, must have been -enormous. But it was only in this fashion that the revivals could be done -justice to. - -It is a wonderful proof of our actor’s ability that, after so many years -of experiment in characters of all kinds, he should in almost his latest -attempt have made one of his most signal successes. I doubt if anything -he has hitherto tried has more profoundly impressed his audience than the -little cabinet sketch of Corporal Brewster in Dr. Conan Doyle’s ‘Story -of Waterloo.’ This he had first presented to a provincial audience, some -eight months ago, at Bristol, with such extraordinary effect that the -general audience of the kingdom felt instinctively that a great triumph -had been achieved. Everyone at a distance at once knew and was interested -in the old corporal. A second trial was made in London, for a charity; -and at last, on May 4 of the present year, it was formally brought -forward in the regular programme. There was what is called “a triple -bill,” consisting of Mr. Pinero’s early drama, ‘Bygones,’ this ‘Story -of Waterloo,’ and some scenes from ‘Don Quixote,’ Wills’s posthumous -work.[60] - -This sketch of the old soldier is a fine piece of acting, highly -finished, yet natural and unobtrusive, full of pathos and even tragedy. -The actor excelled himself in numerous forcible touches, now humorous, -now pathetic. He gave the effect of its being a large history in little; -we had the whole life of the character laid out before us. It was -original, too, and the oddities were all kept in with a fine reserve. -The figure will always be present to the memory, a satisfactory proof -of excellence. There was one mistake, however, in giving the female -character to Miss Hughes, a bright and lively _soubrette_, who could not, -therefore, supply the necessary sympathetic interest, though she did her -best. Taking it all in all, Corporal Brewster is, in its way, one of -the most masterly things the actor has done, and it can be praised—ay, -extolled—without the smallest reservation. - -It was followed by the scenes from ‘Don Quixote,’ and here, again, we -must admire that admirable power of conceiving a character in which -Irving excels, and in which all true actors should excel. It was admitted -that the piece was a “poorish” thing, but here was supplied the living -image of the hapless and ever interesting “Don,” who lived, moved, and -had his being before us, in the most perfect way. There was a general -dreaminess over him; his soul was so filled with high chivalrous visions -that he was indifferent to the coarsely prosaic incidents going on about -him. He filled the stage; the rest were mere puppets. The character, in -spite of the shortcomings of the piece, might be made one of his best. -“One of these days”—always an indefinite period—we may look to see him in -a vigorous, well-written drama on this subject. - -And here it may be said that this long connection of Wills and his school -with the Lyceum has tended somewhat to the sacrifice of brisk dramatic -action, which is always enfeebled by an excess of poetical recitations. -There are still many fine subjects and fine dramas which would kindle all -the actor’s powers afresh and stir his audiences. What a fine piece, for -instance, could be made of Victor Hugo’s ‘Notre Dame’! We already see -our actor as the mysterious and romantic monk—one more addition to his -ecclesiastical gallery. What opportunities for scenery and music! One -of the most picturesque of stories is that of Theodore of Corsica, he -who dreamed of being a king and actually became one, and who died in the -King’s Bench Prison in the most piteous state of misery. We should like -to see him, too, as Rodin, in Sue’s ‘Wandering Jew,’ and, better still, -in ‘Venice Preserved,’ or in ‘Mlle. de Belleisle.’ - -After his twenty years’ fruitful work at the Lyceum—twenty years and -more of picturesque labour during which a new interest was created in -the stage—an official recognition was to be given of our actor’s high -position. The year 1895 will henceforth be notable as the year of the -first tardy honour ever bestowed on an English actor by the Crown. We -have had titled players in abundance on the stage, but they have not owed -their honours to the stage. It has been said that Sir Richard Steele and -Sir Augustus Harris are the only two titled managers. When, in May, the -usual list of what are called “birthday honours” came out, the public was -delighted to find their favourite included, in company with a poet, a -novelist, and a successful traveller. Few Government acts have given such -general satisfaction. There was a general chorus of appreciation. Already -a lecturer before the Universities and a doctor of letters, the leading -player of his time was now officially recognised. - -To no class of the community was the honour more acceptable than to -his own profession. A meeting of actor-managers and others was held to -take some step “in recognition,” it was said, of the distinction. Mr. -Bancroft presided, and a provisional committee was formed, consisting of -Mr. Toole, Mr. Pinero, Mr. Beerbohm Tree, Sir A. Harris, Mr. Hare, Mr. -Wyndham, Mr. G. Alexander, Mr. Terry, Mr. Forbes Robertson, Mr. Terriss, -Mr. Howe, Mr. Brough, Mr. G. Conquest, and some others. Mr. Bashford -acted as secretary. Another meeting with the same end in view was called -of “proprietors, authors, managers.” All this was very gratifying. Not -less striking was the feeling with which the news was received abroad, -and his _confrères_ of the French comedy—the “House of Molière” as it -proudly and so justly boasts itself—lost not a moment in calling a -meeting and sending him a formal “act” of congratulation. This important -document ran: - - “Paris, _May 28, 1895_. - - “DEAR SIR HENRY IRVING, - - “The committee of the Comédie Française and the _sociétaires_ - of the House of Molière desire to send you their cordial - congratulations, and to signify the joy they feel at the high - distinction of which you have lately been made the recipient. - We are all delighted to see a great country pay homage to a - great artist, and we applaud with all our hearts the fitting - and signal recompense paid to an actor who has done such - powerful service and profound honour to our calling and our - art. Accept, then, dear Sir Henry Irving, the expression of the - deep sympathy as artists and the sincere devotion which we feel - towards you.—(Signed) Jules Claretie, administrator-general - and president of committee; Mounet Sully, G. Worms, Silvain, - Georges Baillet, Coquelin cadet, Proudhon, etc., of the - committee; S. Reichemberg, Bartet, B. Baretta Worms, Paul - Mounet, Mary Kalb, Blanche Pierson, A. Dudlay, etc., - _sociétaires_.” - -Looking back over this long period of nigh thirty years, we are -astonished to find this laborious and conscientious performer never -absent from his stage. Night after night, year after year, he is -still found at his post, defiant of fatigue or ill-health. Only on -one occasion, I think, owing to some affection of his throat, had a -substitute to take his place. The pressure and constant struggle of our -time, it may be, takes no account of weakness or failure; no one dares -relax, and as Mrs. Siddons declared the player’s nerves must be made of -cart-ropes, so must he have a constitution of iron or steel. - -Notwithstanding this constant strain upon his time and labour, there -is no figure more conspicuous in the whole round of social duties and -entertainments. Wherever there is a gathering for the purpose of helping -his profession, he is to be found presiding or assisting. He takes his -share in the important movements of the day, and his utterances, always -judicious, useful, and valuable, are quoted abundantly. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -L’ENVOI. - - -Irving has always shown himself eager to plead for his profession, to -urge its claim as a wholesome and instructive moral influence that will -implant in the community elevating instincts of even a religious kind. -All our great actors have been forward in this way, notably Garrick, -Kemble, and Macready. The former’s reply to the bishop as to the success -and failure of their different styles of preaching is well known. In -these days, when we have that singular “Church and State Guild,” with -the pleadings of the Reverend Stewart Headlam, and of other clergymen, -in favour of the ballet, it is curious to find how this indulgent and -tolerant view is repaid by the introduction on the stage of grotesque -curates, vicars, and deans, the line being drawn at bishops, who now -figure in many a comic opera in absurd and even degrading situations. Our -actor is very earnest, and fondly believes that the day is approaching -when the stage, and its ways and works, will be recognised by the Church, -and by good people generally, as healthy, useful agents in the work of -reforming men and women. He is fond of repeating the Bishop’s remark to -him, when he asked why, with such a taste for the theatre, he did not -frequent it—“My dear Irving, I am afraid of the _Rock_ and the _Record_.” - -In his numerous addresses at institutes, and before the Universities, he -has urged the same plea. And yet, with this skilful and loyal advocacy, -we have an instinct that the stage can have but small effect on the -masses, and does little beyond making them acquainted with certain -refining ideas and situations. As for its fostering moral or religious -impressions, by exhibiting “virtue triumphant and vice defeated,” that -seems to be rather fanciful. It is probable that the playwrights, -managers, actors, and audiences use the theatres for profit and for -amusement, not for self improvement in religion or morals. Even the -great classical works, such as those of Shakespeare, are set forward -with so much magnificence, show, and spectacle, that the teachings are -overpowered in the spectacle and general entertainment. But even granting -the contention that it may become a pure leaven in the profession, or -sweetening salt to purify the rest, who can maintain that the stage as -a whole, with its burlesques, “grotesques,” frivolities, fooleries, and -license of speech and manners, can be considered an edifying school for -morality and religion? What a deep impression, on the other hand, leaves -such a piece as ‘The School for Scandal’! what a genuine disgust for -deceit and insincerity! How it shows the danger of “playing with fire”! -What a pleasant sympathy is aroused with the natural, manly virtues! -Here is a certain sort of teaching if you will, and here, too, is there -an elemental morality. But in these days we unhappily not only lack the -talent to supply such comedies, but the public taste is debauched and -gorged with grosser dishes. - -In his paper, addressed to the Church of England Temperance Society, -and read on March 3, 1876, Irving very valiantly pressed for the -formal recognition of his profession by the Church. “Make the theatre -respected by openly recognising its services. Let members of religious -congregations know that there is no harm, but rather good, in entering -into ordinary amusements, so far as they are decorous. Use the pulpit, -the press, and the platform to denounce not the stage, but certain evils -that find allowance on it. Change your attitude towards the stage, and, -believe me, the stage will co-operate with you,” etc. - -It must be said, however, as regards this friendly invitation, that this -idea of the churches cordially recommending the stage and of the clergy -being seen in the stalls, and of bishops who would go to the theatre but -for fear of the _Rock_ and the _Record_, seems but a pleasant delusion. -Some few stray clerical visitants there are, no doubt; but in all ages -and climes the Church has found itself opposed to the stage, on the -ground that in the majority of theatres is found what is destroying and -corrupting. As I have said, the pieces in which anything instructive, or -even elevating, is set forth are but few. - -Irving has collected his various addresses in a charming little volume, -“The Drama,” 1893. Here, in an exceedingly persuasive and graceful -style, he has expounded the principles of his art. On every point he has -something to say, and all is marked by judiciousness and a temperate -reserve. He does not adopt Diderot’s well-known theory. How true, for -instance, is this: “Nor do I think that servility to archæology on -the stage is an unmixed good. Correctness of costume is admirable and -necessary up to a certain point, but when it ceases to be ‘as wholesome -as sweet’ it should, I think, be sacrificed. The nicest discretion is -needed in the use of the materials which are nowadays at the disposal -of the manager. Music, painting, architecture, costume, have all to be -employed, with a strict regard to the production of an artistic whole -in which no element shall be obtrusive.” When ‘Much Ado about Nothing’ -was produced, there was a scene representing a cedar walk, and a critic -discovered that there were no cedars in England until fifty years later, -on which he comments—“Absolute realism on the stage is not always -desirable, any more than the photographic reproduction of Nature can -claim to rank with the highest art.” - -A little bit of pleasant comedy is found in a recent speech of his at the -dinner of the Cabdrivers’ Benevolent Association in June last. He had -always a friendly feeling for this hard-worked body of men, as he told -his audience autobiographically: “I have spent a great part of my life -in cabs. There was a time, indeed, when a hansom, by a slight stretch -of the picturesque, might have been described as my address. That was -in the days of youth and high spirits. But there comes a moment in the -experience of all of us when the taste for adventure is satiated, when we -are no longer eager to sit under the charioteer of the sun, and snatch a -fearful joy from sharp corners and a sudden congestion of the traffic. -So when the decisive moment came for me I dropped the hansom and took -up with the growler. I remember that my first appearance in that staid -and unambitious vehicle excited a certain amount of feeling amongst my -old friends the hansom cabmen. There were letters of remonstrance. One -correspondent, as genial a humorist as Gentleman Joe, hinted that to be -seen in a growler was equivalent to being dead, and I think he offered -to paint my epitaph on the back. I must say that I am very comfortable -in a growler, except when the bottom drops out almost as suddenly as if -it were a gold mine. That accident once happened to a friend of mine -whose professional business compelled him to make a quick change of dress -in the cab, and as it was a light summer evening the passers-by were -astonished to see a pair of white legs running under the vehicle, and not -apparently connected with the horse.” - -Again a pleasant sketch: “Taking them as a body, the cabmen are as -industrious and deserving a class as you can find in the community. -There still lingers amongst them, perhaps, some of the old spirit which -prompted the cabmen to expostulate rather forcibly with Mr. Pickwick. And -considering the vast area in which these public servants have to work, -and the elasticity of the four-mile radius in the minds of some citizens, -the friction is surprisingly small. Not a few of us have known cabmen -whom we held in special regard. There was one affable driver that I -invited to the Lyceum, giving him the money for admission. The next time -I saw him I said, ‘Well, and how did you like the play?’ He hesitated for -a moment, choosing, as I thought, the most grateful words to express his -pleasure and admiration, and then he said, ‘Well, sir, I didn’t go.’ ‘You -didn’t go! Why not?’ ‘Well, sir, you see, there’s the missus, and she -preferred the Waxworks.’ - -“A friend of mine, a great ornament of the medical profession, used to -tell a story of the cabman who drove him regularly on his rounds for -some years, and always spoke of him with affectionate familiarity by -his Christian name. The time came for the rising surgeon to set up a -brougham, and with much reluctance he broke this news to his good friend -the cabby, who responded with cheerful alacrity, ‘Oh, you’re going to get -rid of me, are you? Not a bit of it—I’ll drive that brougham.’ And drive -it he did, till he became too old and infirm for the duty. ‘Ah, well, I -must give it up,’ he said one day; ‘I ain’t fit for it any longer.’ ‘Dear -me,’ said the doctor, in great concern, ‘I am very sorry, very sorry -indeed. And what are you going to do?’ ‘What am I going to do? What are -_you_ going to do for me? Don’t you fear—I’ll never leave you!’ And he -spent the rest of his days on a pension. That story has always seemed to -me to put the spirit of charity and goodwill in a thoroughly practical -light. You can scarcely get through life in this town without a sense of -your dependence on cabby’s skill and endurance, and with as grateful an -obligation to him as that of the voyager to the pilot amidst the reefs in -a storm. In this labyrinth of London, it is rare for cabby not to know -his way. I have never ceased to wonder at the cabman’s dexterity of eye -and hand—unrivalled, I venture to say, in any other capital in Europe. -And when you consider how small is the proportion of accidents in this -vast business of locomotion, you may cheerfully grant that cabby has some -claim upon your respect and generosity.” - -I think the whole “key” of this is admirably appropriate, and the touch -of the lightest.[61] - -At dinners and meetings he often glides into lively recollections of his -early days, related in an unaffected style, as when, not long since, he -told his lieges at Bristol: “My recollections of Bristol carry me back -to the days when my father told me stirring tales of the great Bristol -Riots, which had brought him the honours of a special constable. I think -I wanted to grow up to be a special constable too, and I had great hopes -that Bristol would kindly become sufficiently riotous to favour that -ambition. But I also had a turn for natural history, and it is indelibly -stamped upon my memory that on one occasion, when I was about four years -old, I made a little excursion by myself from St. James’s Barton to -Redcliffe Street in order to study a stag’s head which projected as -a sign from a certain house, where I was found by my anxious mother -peacefully contemplating the head of the antlered beast and wondering why -on earth he smelt so strongly of tallow. It was soon after this incident -that I witnessed a great event in the history of Bristol, the launching -of the steamship _Great Britain_. There was a vast throng of people to -see this mighty vessel, but the one thing which monopolized my attention -was the moustache of Prince Albert, who presided over the ceremony. I -was fired by an unquenchable longing to possess a similar ornament, and -I consulted a friend of mine, a chemist, who kept a particular brand -of acid-drops which I patronized at that time, and who consented to -make a moustache for me. It was a long business, and when I impatiently -inquired how it was getting on, he used to explain that he was growing it -somewhere at the back of his shop. Well, one day I demanded it with an -imperious energy which was not to be resisted, so he put me on a chair -and adorned my upper lip with burnt cork, with which I went home feeling -much elated, though a little disturbed by the demonstrations of the -juvenile public on the way. I have sometimes wondered whether it was that -burnt cork—the earliest of the rites in honour of Thespis—which gave my -career the bent that has brought me among you to-day. If my distinguished -colleague, Miss Ellen Terry, were here, she could tell you many stories -of the Bristol Theatre, in which I may almost say she was cradled.” - - * * * * * - -Such is an imperfect picture of a really remarkable man, who has left a -deep impression on his contemporaries. It was lately written of him by -one not always inclined to be partial to him: “We find the quality of -nobility to be the keynote of his character. No one ever accused him of -a mean or low act. His instincts are, to use a word that has been often -applied to them, ‘princely.’ He has in him that curious combination of -gentleness and dignity which used to be called ‘the grand style.’ Without -being tortuous in his methods, he is instinctively diplomatic, and there -are suggestions of delicacy, almost of asceticism, in his physique, -which convey an impression of refinement and possible self-denial.” Such -a character as this given of some stranger unknown would irresistibly -attract and make us eager to know him. And the author of animated -pictures of society in the various capitals adds these touches: “Whatever -he does is done on a great, even a grand, scale, and done without -ostentation, without violating any of the laws of good taste. His figure -is interesting, and not wanting in distinction. His manner is polished -and gentle; his voice, off the stage, always agreeable, and his style -peculiarly winning.” - - -THE END - -BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD. - - - - -FOOTNOTES - - -[1] Long after, in his prosperity, he recalled to American listeners an -excellent piece of advice given him by this actress. He was speaking of -the invaluable practice of revealing thoughts in the face before giving -them utterance, where, he said, it “will be found that the most natural, -the most seemingly accidental, effects are obtained when the working -of the mind is seen before the tongue gives its words. This lesson was -enjoined on me when I was a very young man by that remarkable actress, -Charlotte Cushman. I remember that when she played Meg Merrilies I was -cast for Henry Bertram, on the principle, seemingly, that an actor -with no singing voice is admirably fitted for a singing part. It was -my duty to give Meg Merrilies a piece of money, and I did it after the -traditional fashion by handing her a large purse full of coin of the -realm, in the shape of broken crockery, which was generally used in -financial transactions on the stage, because when the virtuous maiden -rejected with scorn the advances of the lordly libertine, and threw his -pernicious bribe upon the ground, the clatter of the broken crockery -suggested fabulous wealth. But after the play, Miss Cushman, in the -course of some kindly advice, said to me, ‘Instead of giving me that -purse, don’t you think it would have been much more natural if you had -taken a number of coins from your pocket and given me the smallest? That -is the way one gives alms to a beggar, and it would have added greatly to -the realism of the scene.’ I have never forgotten that lesson.” - -[2] It is not surprising that many more should have been found to claim -the credit of “discovering” Henry Irving. Mr. W. Reeve writes: “A long -talk again with Miss Herbert. As I have two theatres on my hands and a -company, decided not to go. She seemed very disappointed; asked me what -she should do. Thought of Henry Irving, who followed me in Manchester; -advised her to write to Mr. Chambers; promised to do so as well, if -engaged, for Mr. Knowles to release him. Wrote to Chambers about Irving.” -All which, as I know from the best authority, is somewhat imaginative. -The engagement was entirely owing to Boucicault. - -[3] Related in one of his conversations with Mr. Joseph Hatton. I have -heard Mr. Walter Lacy describe the modest, grateful fashion in which -our actor received some hints given him at rehearsal by this old and -experienced performer as to the playing of his part. - -[4] I may be allowed to refer those who would learn the importance of -this agent of “facial expression” to a little treatise of my own, _The -Art of Acting_—lecture at the Royal Institution, where it is fully -discussed. - -[5] Of this night, my friend Mr. Arthur A’Beckett has recently -recalled some memories: “All the dramatic critics were assembled. John -Oxenford—kindest of men and ripest of scholars—for the _Times_, E. L. -Blanchard for the _Daily Telegraph_, John Hollingshead (still amongst -us), the predecessor of my good friend Moy Thomas of the _Daily News_, -Leicester Buckingham for the _Morning Star_, Desmond Ryan (I think) -for the _Standard_, Heraud for the _Illustrated London News_, Tomlins -or Richard Lee for the Advertiser, and Joseph Knight (again one of our -veterans) for the _Sunday Times_. There were others—Clement Scott, W. S. -Gilbert, Andrew Halliday, Tom Robertson, Harry Leigh, Jeff Prowse, Tom -Hood—all members of the Savage Club in the days before clay-pipes went -out of fashion. We were assembled to see a new piece by Dion Boucicault, -then one of the most prolific of dramatists. Well, we were waiting for -the curtain to draw up on the first act of the new play. It was called -‘Hunted Down,’ and it was buzzed in the stalls that Dion had picked up -a very clever young actor in the provinces, who, after a short career -in town, had made his mark in Manchester. He was called Henry Irving. -Then there was another comparatively new name on the bills—Ada Dyas. -The piece had a strong plot, and was fairly successful; but, assisted -by the title, I believe it was a fight against long odds. A repentant -woman ‘with a past’ was hunted down. I fancy Miss Herbert (one of the -most charming actresses that ever trod the boards) was the ‘woman with -the past,’ and that it was she who was ‘hunted down.’ But, although my -impressions of the play are vague and blurred, I can see Henry Irving as -the most admirable villain—cool, calm, and implacable—and Ada Dyas as his -suffering wife. They stand before me as I write, two distinct figures. Of -the rest of the piece, I repeat, I remember next to nothing.” - -[6] At this time I happened to be living in Dublin, and recall with -pleasure the comedian’s striking face and figure, and the entertainment -that he imparted. Once buying a newspaper in a shop that was close by the -fine old Theatre Royal, since destroyed by fire, a “characteristical” -pair entered, whom I recognised from having seen them on the stage. I -was particularly struck with the pale, well-marked features, the black -flowing hair, the dress of correct black, the whole very much suggesting -Nicholas Nickleby, or some other of Dickens’ “walking gentlemen.” There -was something strangely attractive about him, and a courteous, kindly -tone to the owner of the shop as he made his purchase. When the pair -had departed the lady’s tongue “grew wanton in his praise.” “Oh, but -Mr. Irving,” she said enthusiastically, “he is the _one_; a perfect -gentleman! Every morning he comes in to buy his newspaper, and he do -speak so _nicely_. I _do_ think he is a charming young man,” etc. - -[7] The good-looking Montague, following the invariable development, -seceded from the management and set up a theatre for himself. This not -proving successful, he went to America, where he died early. - -[8] It has been stated, I know not with what truth, that he was engaged -at a salary of £15 a week, which was raised on the success of ‘The Bells’ -to £35. - -[9] Originally the piece opened with the second act, and the manager was -said to have exclaimed: “Oh, bother politics! give us _some domestic -business_.” This led to the introduction of the tranquil, pastoral -scene at Hampton Court. The closing scene, as devised by the author, -represented the capture of the king on the field of battle. “Won’t do,” -said the “Colonel” bluntly; “must wind up with _another_ domestic act.” -Sorely perplexed by this requirement, which they felt was correct, -both author and actor tried many expedients without success, until one -evening, towards the small hours, the manager, who appeared to be dozing -in his chair, suddenly called out: “Look at the last act of ‘Black-eyed -Susan,’ with the prayer-book, chain, and all.” All which may be -legendary, and I give it for what it is worth. - -[10] I recall the manager’s complacent anticipation of the success of his -_coup_. “Clayton,” he said, “was a clever, spirited fellow, and would -assuredly make a hit in the part.” He certainly played respectably, -and made up by earnestness what he lacked in other points. He was -particularly proud of his own “make up.” But his inharmonious voice was -against him, and it was impossible to “take him” seriously. - -[11] “_Lyceum.—Charles I., Mr. Henry Irving._ The profound admiration -that has been manifested by all classes (for the past four months) in -this noble poetic play, and the unqualified approval bestowed by the -most illustrious auditors upon Mr. Henry Irving’s great creation of the -martyr-king, have marked a new era in public taste. The manager is proud -to be able to announce that the immense audiences nightly assembled -render any change in the performances impossible.—_Miss Isabel Bateman_, -in her tender and exquisitely pathetic portraiture of Queen Henrietta -Maria.—_Mr. George Belmore_, in his vigorous and masterly assumption of -Oliver Cromwell.” Thus the modern Elliston. - -[12] I have seen in an old criticism a notice of a leading performer who -in similar fashion “condescended”—so it was phrased—to the part of the -Ghost, and whose impersonation was declared to be “more than usually -_gentlemanlike and reputable_.” - -[13] Old Cibber thus grumbled at Garrick’s rise, and other quidnuncs at -Kemble’s; and when Edward Kean came, there was the old prompter, who, -when asked his opinion if he were not equal to Kemble, said: “Very clever -young man indeed, very clever; but Lord bless you, sir, Mr. Kemble _was a -different thing altogether_.” - -[14] I have a vast collection of these things, filling some fourteen -great folio volumes—an extraordinary tribute to the actor’s success. - -[15] At the close of the performance, Mr. Chippendale presented to -him the sword used by Kean when playing Richard. Later a friend gave -him “the George,” which the great actor also wore in the part. Lady -Burdett-Coutts, always one of his great admirers, added Garrick’s ring, -“in recognition of the gratification derived from his Shakespeare -representations, uniting to many characteristics of his great -predecessors in histrionic art (whom he is too young to remember) the -charm of original thought.” I may add that I was the medium of conveying -to Irving Macready’s dress as Virginius, at the request of Mrs. John -Forster, to whose husband it had been given by the great tragedian, with -the accompanying “tinfoil dagger” with which he used to immolate Virginia. - -[16] One night, during the performance of ‘Hamlet,’ something was thrown -from the gallery on to the stage. It fell into the orchestra, and for -a time could not be found. A sad-looking working-woman called at the -stage-door to ask about it, and was glad to learn it was found. It was -only a cheap, common thing. “I often go to the gallery,” she said, “and -I wanted Mr. Irving to have this. I wanted him alone in the world to -possess it.” “This,” he added, telling the story, “is the little trinket -which I wear on my watch-chain.” - -[17] Her valedictory address ran: “Mrs. Bateman begs to announce that -her tenancy of the Lyceum Theatre terminates with the present month. For -seven years it has been associated with the name she bears. During the -three years and a half that the business management has been under her -special control, the liberal patronage of the public has enabled her -to wind up the affairs of each successive season with a profit. During -this period ‘Macbeth’ was produced for the first time in London without -interpolation from Middleton’s ‘Witch.’ Tennyson’s first play, ‘Queen -Mary,’ was given; and Shakespeare’s ‘King Richard III.,’ for the first -time in London from the original text. Mrs. Bateman’s lease has been -transferred to Mr. Henry Irving, to whose attraction as an artist the -prosperity of the theatre is entirely attributable, and she confidently -hopes that under his care it may attain higher artistic distinction and -complete prosperity. In conclusion, Mrs. Bateman ventures to express -her gratitude for the kindness and generosity extended to her by the -public—kindness that has overlooked many shortcomings, and generosity -that has enabled her to faithfully carry out all her obligations to the -close of her tenancy.—Lyceum, August 31, 1878.” - -[18] It was built in 1830, so it is now over sixty-five years of age. The -lease, held from Lord Exeter, has not many years to run—some twenty or -so, I believe. - -[19] He was described by a friend as “always just arrived by the mail in -time to see the fish removed, or as going off by the early coach after -the last dance at four in the morning.” He wrote his own epitaph— - - “Here lies Samuel Beazely, - Who lived hard and died easily.” - -[20] The actress is of a genuinely theatrical family. Readers of Scott’s -Life will recall the clever, industrious Terry, who was long connected -with the Edinburgh stage, and had himself adapted so many of the Scott -novels. Miss Terry’s father was also long connected with the Edinburgh -stage; her three sisters, her brother, her two children, have all -found their way to the “boards.” Even the precocious child performer, -Minnie Terry, is different from other prodigy children, and imparts a -distinction to what is usually a disagreeable sort of exhibition. I -take from the pages of _The Theatre_ the following minute account of -Miss Terry’s career:—“Miss Ellen Terry was born at Coventry on February -27, 1848. Her first appearance on the stage was made at the Princess’s -Theatre, under the management of Mr. Charles Kean, on April 28, 1856. -On October 15 of the same year she appeared as Puck in the revival of -‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream.’ In Mr. Kean’s production of ‘King John,’ -on October 18, 1858, she acted the part of Arthur. She next appeared at -the Royalty and Haymarket Theatres, and at the latter house she played -in ‘Much Ado About Nothing.’ In March, 1863, she acted Gertrude in ‘The -Little Treasure,’ at the Haymarket. She then acted at the Queen’s Theatre -in Long Acre, where, on October 24, 1867, she sustained the character -of Rose de Beaurepaire in ‘The Double Marriage,’ also in ‘Still Waters -Run Deep’; and, on December 26 of the same year she acted for the first -time with Mr. Henry Irving, playing Katherine to his Petruchio in ‘The -Taming of the Shrew.’ Miss Terry then retired from the stage for some -years, reappearing on February 28, 1874, at the Queen’s Theatre, as -Philippa Chester in ‘The Wandering Heir.’ On April 18 of the same year -she acted Susan Merton in ‘It’s Never Too Late to Mend,’ at Astley’s -Theatre, a performance which the _Daily News_ thought worthy of ‘especial -mention.’ Miss Terry’s first ‘hit,’ however, was made in April, 1875, -when she acted Portia in ‘The Merchant of Venice,’ at the Prince of -Wales’s Theatre. At the same theatre, in May following, she acted Clara -Douglas in ‘Money’; and on August 7, 1875, she appeared at the Princess’s -Theatre, for one night only, as Pauline in ‘The Lady of Lyons.’ In -November following she acted Mabel Vane in ‘Masks and Faces’; and in -May, 1876, she played Blanche Haye in ‘Ours,’ at the Prince of Wales’s -Theatre. Going to the Court Theatre, in the autumn of the same year, she -appeared in ‘The House of Darnley,’ and represented Lilian Vavaseur in -‘New Men and Old Acres.’”—Her first appearance was not in 1856, as so -many have set down, but in 1854. This was in the part of one of the young -princes “murdered in the Tower,” though it has been often stated that -the part was the child one of Mamilius in ‘The Winter’s Tale.’ This was -ascertained by my late friend Dutton Cook, one of the most painstaking -and accurate of men. - -Two rival houses in Coventry at this moment claim to be her birthplace. -A greengrocer, at No. 5, Market Street, displays a plate or placard, -announcing that she was born in his house: while a haberdasher, at No. -26, over the way, protests that “This house is the original birthplace of -Miss Ellen Terry, _and no other_. Observe the name, _Terry House_.” Two -other householders make the same claim. But an “old nurse” declares for -No. 5. - -[21] Time moves so quickly on that many will have forgotten that the -popular writer Pinero, whose dramatic works are now in such demand, was -at this time an obscure, painstaking actor, and one of the first to take -service in Irving’s _corps_. By-and-by he brought the manager some slight -pieces, such as ‘Daisy’s Escape,’ to serve as _levers de rideau_. These -were neatly written and full of spirit. He thus practised his pen, and, -as the stage was of large size, had to aim at broad, bold effects, a -treatment which has been of material service in his more formal pieces. -To his efforts as an actor we can scarcely extend the admiration we -have for his writings; and his performance of Sir Peter Teazle at the -Haymarket was a strange, wonderful thing. - -[22] Amiable and forbearing as Irving has always shown himself to his -subordinates, he can be resolute in seeing that what he wishes or wants -is carried out. Schemes of scenery found available on trial have again -and again been condemned because they failed to bring about the effect -desired. This, however, is the secret of the unity and homogeneousness of -his productions. It is admitted that even in the matter of the elaborate -orchestral music, which we might fancy he would leave to the professors, -he has much to say and alter. It may strike him as not being suited to -the situation. Fresh experiments will have to be made, to be also set -aside, to the despair of the composer. Then the _difficile_ manager will -be heard to attempt, vocally, some rude outline of what he desires, and -this rude suggestion the ready musician will grasp and put into shape, -and it will be agreed _nem. con._ that somehow this last attempt suits -the situation exactly. This sense of perfect propriety _in omnibus_ is a -“note” of our manager’s character. - -[23] Once, at Edinburgh, during a performance of ‘The Merchant of -Venice,’ the students of the University had been very tumultuous, and -scarcely a word was heard of the first scenes. Suddenly the drop-scene -descended, and the actor appeared. There was silence when, with perfect -good-humour and firmness, he said that, owing to some misunderstanding, -the first portion of the piece had not been heard by the audience, and -that he was now going to recommence the whole from the beginning. And so -it was done. - -[24] Arthur Matthison, a quaint, clever American, who had written some -successful dramas, was chosen to play “the double” of the leading actor: -that is, after passing behind the “practicable” tree, he was to emerge, -taking care to keep his back to the audience. Unluckily for stage -effect, no known art will help “to dodge Nature” in such points. She -has no _replicas_ in her store: makes everything distinct. And it is -significant of the strong individuality which belongs to the whole body -as well as to the face, that the eye will at once note the difference -of expression in the outline of the figure, arms, etc. I believe no two -people could be found so alike in their general appearance as to be -indistinguishable—thus illustrating the late Mr. Carlyle’s quaint phrase -when speaking of someone whose character he had interpreted unfavourably, -“_I knew it by the twist of the hip of him_.” - -[25] A curious little controversy arose as to the authorship of the -_Ghost Melody_. It was claimed for Mr. Stöpel, who was acting as _chef -d’orchestre_ at the Théâtre Historique when the play was originally -produced. Another claim was made for Varney, author of the stirring -hymn, _Mourir pour la patrie_. Oddly enough, Stöpel, who was then at the -Adelphi, could not be got “to say yes or no.” “He was amused,” he said, -“at the importance attached to such a trifle, and could, if he chose, set -the matter at rest in a few words.” But he did not. Still, there used to -be a pianoforte piece by one Rosellen—a _Reverie_—which certainly began -and went on for many bars in the same fashion. However, a copy of the -music of the _Ghost Melody_, arranged for the pianoforte, and published -in 1852, was unearthed, which bore on its title the words: “Composed by -M. Varney, of the Théâtre Historique: arranged by R. Stöpel, director -of the music at the Princess’s Theatre.” This settled the point, and it -explained the ambiguous declaration of the arranger. We must assuredly -give the whole credit of this air to Varney. - -[26] One agreeable night which was spent behind the scenes enabled me to -study the admirable arrangements by which this complicated operation was -carried out with smoothness and success. - -No sooner has the drop-scene fallen—and a person always “stands by” to -see that the huge roller is kept clear of careless spectators—than a -busy scene sets in. Instantly men emerge from every side; the hills and -banks, the slopes leading down the hill, the steps and massive pedestal -that flank the entrance to the Temple on the right, are lifted up and -disappear gradually; the distant landscape mounts slowly into the air; -the long rows of jets are unfastened and carried off—in three or four -minutes the whole is clear. At this moment are seen slowly coming down -from aloft what appear to be three long heavy frames or beams—two in -the direction of the length, one across the whole breadth of the stage. -These make a sort of enclosure open on one side, and form the pediment -or upper portion of the Temple meant to rest on the pillars. Soon busy -hands have joined these three great joists by bolts and fastenings; the -signal is given, and it begins to ascend again. Meanwhile, others have -been bringing out from the “scene dock” pillars with their bases, and -arranging them; and as the great beams move slowly up to their place, -they hoist with them the columns, attached by ropes which pass through. -By this time all the columns are swinging in the air; another moment and -they have dropped into their places in the pedestal. The place of each -pedestal is marked on the floor. In a few moments everything is fitted -and falls into its place, with an almost martial exactness. Then are seen -slowly descending the other portions of the roof, sky-borders, etc., all -falling into their places quietly and with a sort of mysterious growth. -We have glimpses in the galleries aloft of men hauling at ropes and -pulleys, or turning “drums.” Finally the whole is set and complete, and -men bear in the altars and steps and the enormous idol at the back—over -twenty feet high. It is worth while looking close even at the sound and -effective modelling of the raised classic figures that encircle the lower -portions of each column, all in good relief, such as we see in Mr. Alma -Tadema’s pictures. The variety and richness of these are surprising, and -they fairly bear a close inspection. They are coloured, too, with that -ivory tone which the older marbles acquire. All this was wrought in the -property-room, and worked in clay; the figures were then plastered over -with paper, or _papier-mâché_, a material invaluable to the scenic artist -as furnishing relief and detail so as to catch the lights and shadows, -having the merit of being exceedingly light and portable, of bearing -rough usage and knocking about, which carved wood would not. The idol, -now looming solemnly at the back, is formed of the same material. It is -curious to find that the pillars and their capitals are all constructed -literally in the lines of perspective, as such would be drawn on a flat -surface; they diminish in height as they are farther off, and their top -and bottom surfaces are sloped in a converging line. Thus the “building” -stood revealed and complete, and round the pillars ran an open space, -enclosed as it were by the walls. What with the gloom and the general -mystery, the whole would pass, even to those standing by, as a very -imposing structure. - -[27] One morning, during the preparations, I found myself in the -painting-room, where Mr. Craven was busy with one of the interesting -little models of scenery by which the effect can be tested. The reader -may not know that the scenic artist has his model theatre, a foot or -so wide, but made “to scale.” He has also ground-plans of the stage, -showing all the exits, etc., also done to scale. By these aids the most -complicated scenes can be designed and tried. I was struck with the -careful, conscientious fashion in which the manager discussed a little -Venetian scene, rudely painted in water-colours, which had just been -set. He saw it in connection with the entrances of the actors, and was -not quite satisfied with the arrangement. He tried various devices, and -proposed a gateway, which entailed making a new design. This he suggested -to the painter with pleasant persuasion and kindly apologetic courtesy, -but was, as always, firm in his purpose. If a second experiment did not -satisfy, it must be tried again. _Suaviter in modo_, etc., is certainly -his maxim. - -[28] This performer is associated with the best traditions of the good -old school; and is linked with many interesting associations. It is -curious, too, to think that he belongs, or belonged, to the Society of -Friends. We have, and have had, a good many Jews upon the stage, but a -Quaker is a rarity. When he was in America, he related the story of his -life to an inquirer: “I was attending a public school in Yorkshire. It -was a Quaker school at Ackworth, although boys not of Quaker parentage -attended it. Somehow I was always selected to recite some piece for -the visitors—some of those old pieces, you know, such as _The Roman -Gladiator_, or _Paul before Agrippa_. In this way I acquired my first -liking for the stage. One night I went with my cousin John to the Old -Drury Lane Theatre to see Kean, who was then creating a _furore_ by his -magnificent acting. In those days, you know, they sold good seats in the -gallery for a shilling; so I and my cousin Jack paid our shilling—the -usual half-price—and went into the gallery. I shall never forget that -night. The playing opened, I think, with the third act. I see Kean as -plainly as if it were only yesterday. There he sat, a small man, upon his -throne in the middle of the stage. Well, after leaving the theatre, Jack -and I had to cross a bridge on our way home. I sat down in the recess of -the bridge, almost overcome by my emotion, and said, ‘John, I am going to -be an actor.’ He tried to dissuade me, and laughed at the folly of the -idea, but my mind was made up.” One of the most striking incidents at -a recent production of ‘King Lear’ was the ‘ovation,’ as it is called, -which greeted the veteran as he presented himself in a small character. - -[29] For a time the house was “on crutches,” as it is called, an -operation of considerable architectural delicacy. In the great -“cellarage” below the stage, huge storehouses filled with the rubbish of -half a century, were discovered masses of decayed peacocks’ feathers, -which much perplexed the explorers and everybody else, until it was -recalled that these were the antique “properties” used by Madame Vestris -in one of her Planché burlesques. The labour was herculean, and the -indefatigable Bram Stoker threw himself with heart and soul into the -business. We might lament, however, that the beautiful interior suffered -somewhat in the later alterations. The elegant contour was disturbed; -the double pillars, which recurred periodically in the dress tier, were -reduced to a single one. The fine entrance-hall lost its symmetry from -being enlarged. But such sacrifices are absolutely necessary, and are not -the first that have had to be made under “the form and pressure of the -time.” The alterations cost a very large sum indeed, but our manager has -always been an improving tenant, and has periodically laid out vast sums -on the improvement and decoration of his house. - -[30] Mr. Labouchere, a shrewd observer, a friend and admirer of the -actor’s abilities, always speaks out his opinions in plain, blunt terms: -“An actor must, in order to win popularity, have mannerisms, and the -more peculiar they are, the greater will be his popularity. No one -can for a moment suppose that Mr. Irving could not speak distinctly, -progress about the stage after the fashion of human beings, and stand -still without balancing to and fro if he pleased. Yet, had he not done -all this, he would—notwithstanding that there is a touch of real genius -about his acting sometimes—never have made the mark that he has. He -is, indeed, to the stage what Lord Beaconsfield was to politics. That -exceedingly able man never could utter the resonant clap-trap in which -he so often indulged, and which made men talk about him, without almost -showing by his manner that he himself despised the tricks which gave him -individuality. Were Mr. Irving at present to abate his peculiarities, -his fervent worshippers would complain that their idol was sinking into -mere common-place. Therefore, as I sincerely hope that, for his sake, the -idolaters will continue to bow down before him and fill his treasury, I -trust that he will never change.” There is a cynical flavour in this, and -it is not very flattering to the audience, but underlying it there is -some truth. - -[31] A rapturous article from a Liverpool critic, Mr. Russell, had -appeared in _Macmillan’s Magazine_, which was, indeed, somewhat -indiscriminating in its praises of the Lyceum ‘Romeo and Juliet.’ - -[32] Mr. Forbes Robertson, who is painter as well as actor, depicted this -striking scene on canvas, giving portraits of the performers. It has been -engraved (or rather “processed”) with very happy result. - -[33] It was an unusual tribute to the interest excited in every direction -by the actor’s personality, that in the December of this year the lady -students at University College should have chosen him for the subject of -a formal debate, under the presidency of the clever Miss Fawcett. The -thesis set down was, “That Henry Irving has, by his dramatic genius, -earned his place as foremost among living actors,” and the discussion -was begun with much spirit and fluency by Miss Rees, who proceeded to -give an analysis of his Hamlet and other characters, contending that -his extraordinary _success_ was a proof of his merit. The opposition -was led by Mrs. Brooksbanks, who fairly and unsparingly attacked the -actor for his mannerisms and various defects. After a reply from Miss -Rees, the original motion was put to the ladies, and was carried by a -slender majority. The actor must have read these proceedings, which were -flattering enough, with much enjoyment. - -[34] An idea of what a “tremendous” business this was may be gathered -from a single detail. A well-known experienced wigmaker from Covent -Garden, with two assistants, was engaged to look after the _coiffures_ -of the company, and these “artists in hair” had under their charge a -collection of wigs, entirely new, no fewer than eleven hundred in number. -On a later visit there were fifteen hundred wigs! - -[35] Where it now hangs over the chimneypiece in the Guests’ Room. It -is not so successful as many others of Millais’ works; it is rather -sketchily painted, and lacks force and expression. The late Mr. Long -painted the actor as Hamlet and Richard III. These are not very striking -performances, but they are refined and interesting portraits. Mr. -Whistler produced an extraordinary one of him as Philip II., strangely -“shadowy” but powerful, and of preternatural length. A number of artists -of less pretension have also essayed to limn the actor; but all have -failed to sketch the mobile, delicate expression of the lips. Boldly -daring, I myself have fashioned a bust of him in terra-cotta. - -[36] It is said that the origin of the acquaintance between Irving and -this statesman was an accidental encounter in the street, when the -latter, with a sympathetic impulsiveness, stopped Irving and introduced -himself. He has since been an assiduous frequenter of the Lyceum, and -in his eighty-third year was seen in the stalls or behind the scenes, -following the course of ‘Henry VIII.’ with unabated interest. - -[37] These newspapers were sent to me without interruption through the -whole tour by Irving’s direction. - -[38] A description of a “first-night” at the Clement Street Opera House -is worth quoting here: - -“Ladies took their place in line and waited for hours to get tickets for -the opening performance. The face of the tall and genial Bram Stoker, -Mr. Irving’s agent, wore a broad smile as, standing in the vestibule, -he noticed the swelling crowd passing between the continually swinging -doors. The array of regular first-nighters was up to the notch, and all -the familiar faces, not only those most looked for with the lorgnettes, -but those that vanish between the acts, were there. Tall Tom Donaldson, -one of Blaine’s lieutenants, whose wife and daughter were in one of the -boxes, was leaning against the wall talking to Judge William Haydon, -formerly of Nevada, one of the oldest theatre-goers in the United States, -who saw Edmund Kean play Hamlet, and thinks Irving the best actor he -has seen since. Joseph F. Tobias, ruddy, genial, and Chesterfieldian as -ever, was shaking hands at every turn, and L. Clark Davis, in immaculate -evening dress and pearl studs, but with the inevitable Bohemian hat, was -the centre of a chatty group. Charles E. Cramp and Horace Warding were -talking to Dr. Thomas H. Andrews, who has the largest theatrical practice -of any physician in Philadelphia, and has been called to attend half the -stars who have appeared here in recent years. Almost every well-known -first-nighter was on hand, and the invariable sentiment was that this -was the big event of the present year. There were many well-known people -who are not often seen at the theatre, notably Daniel M. Fox, Director -of the Mint, who sat in the centre aisle, near the stage, with a party -of friends, and appeared to enjoy the performance very much. Just back -of him was a large party from Bethlehem, Pa. John R. Jones, the Bible -publisher, had with him Miss Jones, in a stunning gray imported costume, -one of the most artistic in the theatre. Robert W. Downing had quite a -party. There were several large theatrical parties. The most noticeable -was the one given by Miss K. N. Green, which included many attractive -ladies. Ex-Attorney-General Brewster was the centre of quite a large -party in the orchestra, including several ladies. A very beautiful bevy -was the party given by Miss Hattie Fox, daughter of George S. Fox, which -numbered thirty-five. They all had seats in the orchestra circle. Some of -the most fashionable people had to be content with seats upstairs, and -there was one party of young ladies in the family circle who were in full -dress and went direct in carriages, at the close of the performance, to -the dancing-class.” - -[39] When the piece was first given at the Court Theatre, there was a bit -of realism that was almost too conscientious. The little family music was -accompanied on a genuine old harpsichord, which, it was gravely announced -in the bill, was actually dated 1768, about the period of the novel, and -was of course, “kindly lent” by the owner. - -[40] It is but fair to add that Mr. Conway was suffering from the -approach of a serious illness, which declared itself shortly after. - -[41] I recall a Sunday morning during this visit, when a message arrived -from the manager asking me to join a festive party to Dorking, to which -he had invited some members of the French comedy. At the Garrick Club, -the favourite coach, “Old Times,” was waiting, and presently it was -“Buzz!—here come the players.” A delightful drive it was, and a truly -enjoyable day. There was Mounet Sully, the fervent stage lover—then, -it was whispered, the prey of a hopeless attachment to the gifted -“Sarah”—the _spirituel_ Delaunay, still a _jeune premier_ in spite of his -years; with two or three others of the _corps_. Of the party were also -my friend Mr. Walter Pollock, with his genial, well-cultured father, the -late Sir Frederick; Campbell Clarke, French correspondent to the _Daily -Telegraph_, and some other _littérateurs_. There was the drive down to -the inviting little town, with a lunch at the old inn, some wanderings -about its leafy lanes, and a return in the evening to the club, where -the host gave a banquet, at which speeches in French and English were -delivered. The interesting strangers took away with them the lasting -impression that he was “truly a sympathetic personage, with a great deal -of French grace and _bonhomie_ in his nature.” - -[42] This also seemed rather unintelligible to the audience; but its -secret was the secret of the creator or originator of the part. Such -devices are really significant of something dramatic that has actually -prompted them; they become an expression. The revived “business,” -therefore, will not serve unless the original spirit attends it. This -squeaking snuff-box was a note of _diablerie_, introduced with strange -sudden spasms at unexpected moments, and corresponded to the twitches -and spasms of Macaire’s mind. For the manager I collected much of old -Lemaître’s business, with those curious chants with which the robber -carried off his villainies. Jingle and Job Trotter were certainly -modelled on Macaire and his man; for the piece was being played as -_Pickwick_ came out. - -[43] We may at least admire this writer’s perseverance and intrepidity, -who from that time has never relaxed his efforts to win the approbation -or secure the attention of the public. One could have wished him better -success with his later venture and most ambitious attempt, the management -of the Avenue Theatre, where he introduced his own piece illustrative of -“modern English Life,” with which his critics—for whom, like the sapper, -nothing is sacred—made merry. He is not likely to be daunted by this, and -I have little doubt he will “arrive” at last. - -[44] The quaint name of this club, “the Kerneuzers,” was suggested by -a simple attendant, who actually so described the members; it was his -pronunciation of the word “connoisseurs.” - -[45] Once, when visiting Stratford-on-Avon with Toole, he saw a rustic -sitting on a fence, whom they submitted to an interrogatory. “That’s -Shakespeare’s house, isn’t it?” it was asked innocently. “Ees.” “Ever -been there?” “Noä.” “How long has he been dead?” “Dunno.” “What did he -do?” “Dunno.” “Did he not write?” “Oh yes, he did summat.” “What was it?” -“Well, I think he writ _Boible_.” A pleasantry that both the players once -contrived in Scotland, at the expense of an old waiter at a hotel, is of -a higher order of merit than such hoaxes usually offer. At this country -inn they had noted that the spoons, forks, etc., seemed to be of silver, -and with some artfully designed emphasis they questioned the waiter about -the property. As soon as he had gone out, they concealed all the plate, -and, having rung the bell, jumped out of the window, which was close to -the ground, and hid themselves in the shrubbery. The old man re-entered: -they heard his cries of rage and astonishment at the robbery, and at the -disappearance of the supposed thieves. He then rushed from the room to -summon the household. The rest of the story is worth giving in Irving’s -words, as reported by Mr. Hatton. - -“We all crept back to the room, closed the window, drew down the blind, -relighted the gas and our cigars, put each piece of silver back into its -proper place, and sat down to wait for our bill. In a few minutes we -heard evidently the entire household coming pell-mell to the dining-room. -Then our door was flung open; but the crowd, instead of rushing in upon -us, suddenly paused _en masse_, and Sandy exclaimed, ‘Great God! Weel, -weel! Hae I just gane clean daft?’ - -“‘Come awa’, drunken foo’, come awa’!’ exclaimed the landlord, pulling -Sandy and the rest back into the passage and shutting the door.” - -[46] Quite a number of relics of great actors have, as we have already -shown, found their way to Irving’s custody; and there is always something -pleasant for him to think of when he recalls the presentation. Thus on -his visit to Oxford he had spoken of the last days of Edmund Kean, who -had died in sore straits. A few days later he received a purse of faded -green silk found in the pocket of the great actor just after his death, -and found empty. It had been given by Charles Kean to John Forster, and -by him to Robert Browning. Edmund and Charles Kean, Forster, Browning, -and Irving form a remarkable pedigree. “How can I more worthily place -it,” wrote Browning, “than in your hands, if they will do me the honour -to take it, with all respect and regard?” - -[47] One of these many “snappers-up of trifles” described the nightgown -worn by Lady Macbeth in her sleep-walking scene, which was all of wool -knitted into a pretty design. Mrs. Comyns Carr designed Miss Terry’s -dresses, which certainly did not lack bold originality. There was the -curious peacock blue and malachite green dress which contrasted with the -locks of copper-coloured hair, from which the half American artist, Mr. -Serjeant, formed a striking but not very pleasing portrait. - -[48] It was likely that the majority of these persons were incapacitated -by age from forming a judgment on this matter; but it was curious that -I should have conversed with two persons at least who were capable of -making the comparison. One was Mr. Fladgate of the Garrick Club, a most -interesting man, well stored with anecdotes of Kemble, Kean, and others, -who once, in the library of the club, gave me a vivid delineation of -the good John’s methods in ‘The Stranger.’ The other was Mr. Charles -Villiers, who is, at the moment I write, in about his ninetieth year. A -most characteristic incident was a letter from the veteran Mrs. Keeley, -with much generous criticism of Miss Terry’s performance, thus showing -none of the old narrow spirit which can only “praise bygone days.” She -frankly added that until visiting the Lyceum she had never witnessed a -performance of the play from one end to the other, though she had seen -many a great performer in it, and had herself performed in it. This -recalls Mrs. Pritchard, one of the great Lady Macbeths, who, as Dr. -Johnson said, had never seen the fifth act, as it did not fall within her -part. - -[49] Charles Reade’s strange, odd appreciation of this gifted, mercurial -woman is worth preserving: - -“Ellen Terry is an enigma. Her eyes are pale, her nose rather long, her -mouth nothing particular, complexion a delicate brick-dust, her hair -rather like tow. Yet, somehow, she is _beautiful_. Her expression _kills_ -any pretty face you see beside her. Her figure is lean and bony, her hand -masculine in size and form. Yet she is a pattern of fawn-like grace. -Whether in movement or repose, grace _pervades the hussy_. In character -impulsive, intelligent, weak, hysterical—in short, all that is abominable -and charming in woman. Ellen Terry is a very charming actress. I see -through and through her. Yet she pleases me all the same. _Little Duck!_” - -This suggests the old rhyme: - - “Thou hast so many pleasing, teazing ways about thee, - There’s no living with thee or without thee.” - -[50] It was interesting to note, at a St. James’s Hall performance, June -25, the pleasant, eager vivacity of the actress, who, familiar as she was -with the play, seemed to be repeating with her lips all the portions in -which she was not concerned. In the more dramatic portions, it was plain -she was eager to be on the scene once more. As she sat she anxiously -waited for the orchestra to come in at their proper places, sometimes -giving them the signal. This very natural behaviour interested everyone. - -[51] Another play was written for him on the subject of ‘Mahomet,’ which -he was inclined to bring out; but here again authority interposed, -and “invited him,” as the French so politely have it, to abandon his -purpose. It was at the end of the summer season of 1879 that our manager, -after naming these pieces, spoke of others which he had in reserve, -either revivals or wholly new ones. It is interesting to think that -he had thought of the stormy and pathetic ‘Gamester,’ which has ever -an absorbing attraction; ‘The Stranger’ also was spoken of; but their -treatment would have offered too many points of similarity to Eugene -Aram and other characters of “inspissated gloom.” On this occasion, when -speaking of “the romantic and pathetic story” of Emmett, he announced a -drama on the subject of Rienzi, which his friend Wills had prepared for -him, but which has never yet seen the light. Years have rolled by swiftly -since that night, and the author has often been heard to bewail the -delays and impediments which hindered the production of what he no doubt -considered his finest performance. Another great drama long promised and -long due is ‘Coriolanus,’ for which Mr. Alma Tadema has designed scenery. - -[52] An American lady, a Californian artist, was the first to enter the -pit for the opening performance of ‘Henry VIII.’ at the Lyceum. “I and -a friend went with our camp-stools and took our places next the door at -ten o’clock in the morning. We were provided with a volume of _Harper’s -Magazine_, a sketch-book, writing-paper, and a fountain-pen, caricatures -of Henry Irving, and much patience. A newspaper spread under the feet and -a Japanese muff warmer, with sandwiches and a bottle of wine, kept us -comfortable. Two ladies were the next comers, and shortly a crowd began -to collect. Real amusing it was, but not very elegant. After about two -hours Mr. Bram Stoker came and had a look at us, and cheered our hearts -by telling us that tea would be served from the neighbouring saloon -(public-house). At last, at seven o’clock, we were rewarded for our -patience by getting seats in the front row. The play was superb, and the -audience—well, everyone looked as if he had done something.” - -[53] As an instance of the manager’s happy touch in a trifling matter, we -might name the State trumpets constantly “blaring” and sounding as the -King approached, which offered nothing of the usual “super” arrangement. -The men seemed to tramp along the street as though conscious of their own -dignity, warning those whom it might concern to make way for their high -and puissant lord. - -[54] It was publicly stated that the “mounting” of this play had cost -£15,000, and that the weekly expenses were some £800. The manager wrote -to contradict this, as being altogether beyond the truth; though, he -added, with a sigh, as it were, that he heartily wished the second -statement were true, and that the expenses could be put at so low a -figure. - -[55] According to one writer, “an emissary was sent to Rome to acquire -a Cardinal’s robe. After some time a friend managed to secure one of -the very period, whereupon an exact copy, ‘both of colour and texture,’ -was made. A price has to be paid for scenic splendours in the shape of -the delays that they necessarily occasion. Thanks to the ingenuity of -stage-carpenters and machinists, these delays at the Lyceum are reduced -to a minimum time. ‘Henry VIII.’ being not one of the longest of the -plays—though it is one-third longer than ‘Macbeth’—the text at the Lyceum -has been treated with comparative leniency. ‘Hamlet,’ on the other -hand, which comprises nearly four thousand lines, cannot on the modern -system of sumptuous mounting possibly be given in anything approaching -its entirety.” As a fact, very nearly one-half the play disappears -from the modern acting copies. My friend Mr. W. Pollock, in a paper in -the _National Review_, has justly urged in this connection that half a -‘Hamlet’ is better than no ‘Hamlet’ at all. - -[56] To illustrate his most recent productions, the manager is accustomed -to issue what is called “a souvenir,” an artistic series of pictures of -the scenes, groupings, etc. It may be added, as a proof of the pictorial -interest of the Lyceum productions, that in little more than a week -after the first performance of ‘Becket’ no fewer than five-and-twenty -illustrations, some of great pretension, had appeared in the papers. -On the first night of ‘Lear’ a marchioness of artistic tastes was seen -making sketches, which were published in an evening paper. - -[57] One touch, which might escape the superficial, showed the fine, -delicate sense of the manager. The scene where Kent is exhibited in the -stocks has always suggested something grotesque and prosaic. It was here -so dignified in its treatment as to become almost pathetic. I may add -here that the deepest strokes of Shakespeare, not being on the surface, -are apt to escape us altogether, save when some inspired critic lays his -finger on them. The faithful Kent at the close is brought to his master’s -notice, who does not recognise him. Here Lamb points out how noble is -Kent’s self-sacrifice in not bringing himself to the King’s recollection. - -[58] On March 18, 1893, Irving and his whole company were bidden to -Windsor Castle to play ‘Becket’ before her Majesty. A theatre was fitted -up in the Waterloo Chamber; special scenery was painted; the Lyceum was -closed; and the company, 170 strong, was transported to Windsor and -brought back on the same night. The performance was given with much -effect and to the enjoyment of the Queen. Some three or four years -before, a no less interesting entertainment was arranged at Sandringham -by the Prince of Wales, who was anxious that her Majesty should see the -two favourite performers in their most effective pieces—‘The Bells’ -and the “Trial scene” in ‘The Merchant of Venice,’ The outlay of time, -trouble, and skilful management to provide for all the arrangements -within a short space of time can scarcely be imagined. The pecuniary -cost, owing to the closing of the theatre, transport, etc., was serious. - -[59] An Irving “Bibliography” would fill many columns, and would -include a vast quantity of controversial writing—attacks, defences, -and discussions. Besides his official discourses, he has written many -agreeable papers in the leading “monthlies.” I have already spoken of -the “skits” and personalities which followed his early successes, and -which he encountered with excellent temper and a patient shrug. These -have long since been forgotten. At attempts at “taking him off,” though a -favourite pastime, he could afford to smile; though when it was carried -beyond legitimate bounds, as in the instance of the late Mr. Leslie, he -interposed with quiet firmness, and put it down in the interests of the -profession. An American burlesque actor, named Dixie, with execrable -taste gave an imitation of him in his presence. More curious is the -unconscious imitation of him which is gaining in the ranks of the -profession, and which has had some droll results. Thus one Hudson—when -playing the Tetrarch in ‘Claudian’ in the States—was so strangely like -him in manner and speech, that it was assumed by the American audience -that he was maliciously “taking him off.” His own company have caught up -most of his “ways” and fashions—notably Haviland, and even Alexander. -At the opening of ‘Vanderdecken,’ two at least of the performers were -mistaken for him—from their walk—and had a “reception” accordingly. - -[60] This “triple bill” is an unmeaning term, for a triple bill means, if -anything, three bills in one, and not, as is supposed, a single bill in -three parts. - -[61] In this connection there is a characteristic story told of our -actor. He was driving in a hansom one night to the Lyceum when the -‘Merchant of Venice’ was running. In a fit of absence of mind he tendered -a shilling for his fare, whereas it should have been eighteenpence or -two shillings. Whereupon the cabby, who had recognised his man, burst -out: “If yer plays the Jew inside that theayter as well as yer does -outside, darned if I won’t spend this bob on coming to see yer.” It is -said he was so delighted with the retort that he promptly gave the man -half-a-sovereign. - - - - -BOOKS BY PERCY FITZGERALD. - - -THE SAVOY OPERA. - - With 60 Illustrations and Portraits. Crown 8vo., cloth extra, - 3s. 6d. - -THE WORLD BEHIND THE SCENES. - - Crown 8vo., cloth extra, 3s. 6d. - -LITTLE ESSAYS. - - SELECTIONS FROM THE LETTERS OF CHARLES LAMB. Post 8vo., cloth - limp, 2s. 6d. - -A DAY’S TOUR: - - A JOURNEY THROUGH FRANCE AND BELGIUM. With facsimile Sketches. - Crown 4to., picture cover, 1s. - -LIFE OF JAMES BOSWELL (OF AUCHINLECK). - - With an Account of his Sayings, Doings, and Writings; and Four - Portraits. Two vols., demy 8vo., cloth extra, 24s. - -FATAL ZERO: - - A NOVEL. Crown 8vo., cloth extra, 3s. 6d.; post 8vo., - illustrated boards, 2s. - -Post 8vo., illustrated boards, 2s. each. - - BELLA DONNA. - NEVER FORGOTTEN. - THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. - SEVENTY-FIVE BROOKE STREET. - POLLY. - THE LADY OF BRANTOME. - -LONDON: CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIR HENRY IRVING--A RECORD OF OVER -TWENTY YEARS AT THE LYCEUM *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Sir Henry Irving--A record of over Twenty Years at the Lyceum</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Percy Hetherington Fitzgerald</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: February 16, 2021 [eBook #64575]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: MFR and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIR HENRY IRVING--A RECORD OF OVER TWENTY YEARS AT THE LYCEUM ***</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_i">[i]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 475px;"> -<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="475" height="700" alt="" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p class="titlepage larger">SIR HENRY IRVING</p> - -<p class="center">A RECORD OF OVER TWENTY YEARS -AT THE LYCEUM</p> - -<p class="titlepage"><span class="smaller">BY</span><br /> -PERCY FITZGERALD, M.A.<br /> -<span class="smaller">AUTHOR OF<br /> -“THE LIFE OF GARRICK,” “THE KEMBLES,” “ART OF THE STAGE,” ETC.</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“As in a theatre the eyes of men,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">After a well-grac’d actor leaves the stage,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Are idly bent on him that enters next.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="titlepage"><i>A NEW EDITION, REVISED<br /> -WITH AN ADDITIONAL CHAPTER</i></p> - -<p class="titlepage">LONDON<br /> -CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY<br /> -1895</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iii">[iii]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">PREFACE.</h2> - -</div> - -<p>One attraction in the life of an actor who has fought his -way, and triumphed over many difficulties, in his struggles to -eminence, is found in the spirit of adventure which nearly always -marks his course. Such a story must be always gratifying and -encouraging to read; and we follow it now with sympathy, now -with admiration. Nor is it without gratification for the actor -himself, who must look back with complacency to troubles -surmounted, and to habits of patience and discipline acquired. -In this severe and trying school he may acquire the practical -virtues of resignation, courage, perseverance, and the art of -confronting difficulties. Even at the present moment, when -the stage is presumed to be more flourishing than at any former -period, the element of precariousness is more present than -ever. Everything seems a lottery—theatres, pieces, actors. -A theatre has gained a high reputation with one or two successful -pieces: of a sudden the newest play fails—or “falls,” -as the French have it—to be succeeded by another, and yet -another: each failing or “falling,” and seeming to prove that, -if nothing succeeds like success, nothing fails like failure.</p> - -<p>There is a spectacle often witnessed in the manufacturing -counties, when we may be standing waiting in one of the -great stations, which leaves a melancholy impression. A huge<span class="pagenum" id="Page_iv">[iv]</span> -theatrical train containing one of the travelling companies -comes up and thunders through. Here is the “Pullman Car,” -in which the performers are seen playing cards, or chatting, -or lunching. They have their pets with them—parrots, dogs, -etc. It suggests luxury and prosperity. But this ease is dearly -purchased, for we know that the performer has bound himself -in a sort of slavery, and has consented to forego all the legitimate -methods of learning his profession. He belongs to some -peripatetic company, a “travelling” one, or to one of the -innumerable bands who take round a single play, for years, it -may be; and in it he must play his single character over and -over again. Hence, he must learn—nay, is compelled to play—every -character in the same fashion, for he knows no other -method. His wage is modest, but constant; but he can never -rise higher, and if he lose his place it will be difficult for him -to find another. It will be interesting to see what a contrast -this system offers to the course of our cultured actors, who -have endured the iron training and discipline of the old school; -and in this view we shall follow the adventurous career of the -popular Henry Irving, admittedly the foremost of our performers. -In his instance we shall see how the struggle, so -manfully sustained, became an invariable <em>discipline</em>, slowly -forming the character which has made him an interesting figure -on which the eyes of his countrymen rest with pleasure: and -developing, as I have said, the heroic qualities of patience, -resolution, and perseverance.</p> - -<p>At the same time, I do not profess to set forth in these -pages what is called “a biography” of the actor. But this -seems a fitting moment for presenting a review of his artistic, -laborious work at the Lyceum Theatre, during a period of over -twenty years. Having known the actor from the very commencement -of his career; having seen him in all his characters; -having written contemporaneous criticisms of these performances—I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_v">[v]</span> -may be thought to be at least fairly qualified for -undertaking such a task. I possess, moreover, a vast collection -of what may be called <i lang="fr">pièces justificatifs</i>, which includes almost -everything that has been written of him. It will be seen that -the tone adopted is an independent one, and I have freely -and fairly discussed Sir Henry Irving’s merits, both real and -imputed. Where praise is undiscriminating, there is no praise. -I have also dealt with many interesting “open questions,” as -they may be called, connected with theatrical management and -the “art of the stage.” I may add that in this new edition I -have added many particulars which will be found interesting, -and have brought the story down to the present moment.</p> - -<p class="hanging"><span class="smcap">Athenæum Club</span>,<br /> -<i>July, 1895</i>.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">[vii]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS.</h2> - -</div> - -<table summary="Contents"> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td class="tdpg smaller">PAGE</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER I.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>SCHOOL-DAYS—EARLY TASTE FOR THE STAGE—FIRST APPEARANCE (1838-1856)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">1</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER II.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>EDINBURGH AND THE SCOTTISH THEATRES (1857-1859)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">6</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER III.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>THE ST. JAMES’S THEATRE—‘HUNTED DOWN’—THE NEW VAUDEVILLE THEATRE—‘THE TWO ROSES’ (1866)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">23</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER IV.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>‘THE BELLS’—WILLS’S ‘CHARLES I.’ (1871)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">31</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER V.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>‘HAMLET’—‘OTHELLO’—‘MACBETH’—DEATH OF ‘THE COLONEL’—‘QUEEN MARY’ (1874)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">38</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER VI.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>THE NEW MANAGER OF THE LYCEUM—MISS TERRY—HIS SYSTEM AND ASSISTANTS (1878)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">50</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER VII.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>‘THE MERCHANT OF VENICE’ (1879)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">64</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER VIII.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>‘THE CORSICAN BROTHERS’ AND ‘THE CUP’ (1880)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">69</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">[viii]</span>CHAPTER IX.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>‘OTHELLO’ AND ‘THE TWO ROSES’ REVIVED (1881)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">76</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER X.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>‘ROMEO AND JULIET’—THE BANQUET (1882)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">85</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER XI.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>‘MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING’—AMERICAN VISIT ARRANGED (1882)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">88</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER XII.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>‘TWELFTH NIGHT’—‘THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD’—OXFORD HONOURS (1884)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">96</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER XIII.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>‘FAUST’—‘WERNER’—‘MACAIRE’—THE ACTOR’S SOCIAL GIFTS (1887)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">111</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER XIV.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>‘MACBETH’—‘THE DEAD HEART’—‘RAVENSWOOD’ (1888)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">119</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER XV.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>‘KING LEAR’—‘BECKET’ (1892)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">131</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER XVI.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>‘KING ARTHUR’—CORPORAL BREWSTER—HONOURS (1893)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">138</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER XVII.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>L’ENVOI</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">143</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[1]</span></p> - -<h1>SIR HENRY IRVING</h1> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1838-1856.<br /> -SCHOOL-DAYS—EARLY TASTE FOR THE STAGE—FIRST APPEARANCE.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>Henry Irving was born at Keinton, near Glastonbury, in -Somersetshire, on February 6, 1838. His real name was John -Henry Brodribb. “The last place God made” has been the -description given of this little town—Keinton-Mandeville—which -lies near Glastonbury. The house in which the future -actor was born is still pointed out—a small two-storied dwelling, -of a poorish sort.</p> - -<p>Henry Irving’s mother was Sarah Behenna, a woman of -strong, marked character, who early took the child into Cornwall -to her sister Penberthy. Thus was he among the miners -and mining captains in a district “stern and wild,” where -lessons of dogged toil and perseverance were to be learned. -The earliest books he read were his Bible, some old English -ballads, and “Don Quixote,” a character which he had long -had a fancy for performing. In an intimate <i lang="fr">causerie</i> with his -and my friend Joseph Hatton, he was induced to stray back to -these early days of childhood, when he called up some striking -scenes of those old mining associations. This aunt Penberthy -was a resolute, striking woman, firm and even grim of purpose, -and the scenes in which she figured have a strong flavour, as -Mr. Hatton suggests, of Currer Bell’s stories.</p> - -<p>He was early sent to a school then directed by Dr. Pinches, -in George Yard, Lombard Street, close by the George and -Vulture, which still happily stands, and where Mr. Pickwick -always put up when he was in town. At this academy, on some<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[2]</span> -exhibition day, he proposed to recite a rather gruesome piece -called “The Uncle,” to which his preceptor strongly objected, -when he substituted the more orthodox “Defence of Hamilton -Rowan,” by Curran.</p> - -<p>More than thirty years later, when the boy had become -famous, and was giving a benefit at his own theatre to a veteran -player—Mr. Creswick—the latter, coming before the curtain, -related to the audience this little anecdote. “I was once,” he -said, “invited to hear some schoolboys recite speeches previous -to their breaking up for the holidays. The schoolmaster was -an old friend of mine, whom I very much respected. The -room was filled from wall to wall with the parents and friends -of the pupils. I was not much entertained with the first part: -I must confess that I was a little bored; but suddenly there -came out a lad who at once struck me as being rather uncommon, -and he riveted my attention. The performance, I -think, was a scene from ‘Ion,’ in which he played Adrastus. I -well saw that he left his schoolfellows a long way behind. -That schoolboy was Master Henry Irving. Seeing that he -had dramatic aptitude, I gave him a word of encouragement, -perhaps the first he had ever received, and certainly the first he -had received from one in the dramatic profession, to which he -is now a distinguished honour.” The late Solicitor-General, -Sir Edward Clarke, who was sent to the school after Irving left -it, long after made humorous complaint at a Theatrical Fund -dinner that, on exhibiting his own powers at the same school, -he used to be regularly told, “Very good—very fair; but you -should have heard Irving do it.”</p> - -<p>On leaving the school, it was determined that the future -actor should adopt a commercial career, and he was placed in -the offices of Messrs. Thacker, “Indian merchants in Newgate -Street.” He was then about fourteen, and remained in the -house four years.</p> - -<p>But his eyes were even now straying from his desk to the -stage. He was constantly reading plays and poetry, and seeking -opportunity for practice in the art in which he felt he was -destined so to excel.</p> - -<p>At this time, about 1853, the late Mr. Phelps’ intelligent -efforts, and the admirable style in which he presented classical -dramas, excited abundant interest and even enthusiasm among -young men. Many now look back with pleasure to their -pilgrimages to the far-off Sadler’s Wells Theatre, where such an -intellectual entertainment was provided and sustained with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span> -admirable taste for many seasons. What was called “The -Elocution Class” was one of the results. It was directed by -Mr. Henry Thomas with much intelligence; his system was -to encourage his pupils to recite pieces of their own selection, -on which the criticisms of the listeners were freely given -and invited. “On one evening,” says one of Irving’s old -class-fellows, “a youth presented himself as a new member. -He was rather tall for his age, dressed in a black suit, with -what is called a round jacket, and a deep white linen collar -turned over it. His face was very handsome, with a mass of -black hair, and eyes bright and flashing with intelligence. He -was called on for his first recitation, and fairly electrified the -audience with an unusual display of elocutionary and dramatic -intensity.” The new member was Henry Irving. By-and-by -the elocution class was moved to the Sussex Hall, in Leadenhall -Street, when something more ambitious was attempted in the -shape of regular dramatic performances. The pieces were -chiefly farces, such as ‘Boots at the Swan,’ or ‘Little Toddlekins,’ -though more serious plays were performed. It was -remarked that the young performer was invariably perfect in his -“words.” In spite of his youth he gave great effect to such -characters as Wilford in ‘The Iron Chest,’ and others of a -melodramatic cast. A still more ambitious effort was Tobin’s -‘Honeymoon,’ given at the little Soho Theatre with full -accompaniments of scenery, dresses, and decoration; and here -the young aspirant won great applause.</p> - -<p>It was to be expected that this success and these associations -should more and more encourage him in his desire of adopting -a profession to which he felt irresistibly drawn. He was, of -course, a visitor to the theatres, and still recalls the extraordinary -impression left upon him by Mr. Phelps’ performances. -In everyone’s experience is found one of these “epoch-making” -incidents, which have an influence we are often scarcely conscious -of; and every thinking person knows the value of such -“turning-points” in music or literature. The young man’s -taste was no caprice, or stage-struck fancy; he tried his powers -deliberately; and before going to see a play would exercise -himself in regular study of its parts, attempting to lay out the -action, business, etc., according to his ideas. Many years later -in America, he said that when he was a youth he never went -to a theatre except to see a Shakespearian play—except, in fact, -for instruction.</p> - -<p>At Sadler’s Wells there was a painstaking actor called<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span> -Hoskins, who was attracted by the young fellow’s enthusiasm -and conscientious spirit, and who agreed to give him a few -lessons in his art. These were fixed for eight o’clock in the -morning, so as not to interfere with commercial business. -Hoskins introduced him to Phelps, who listened to his efforts -with some of that gnarled impassibility which was characteristic -of him; then, in his blunt, good-natured way, gave him this -advice: “Young man, have nothing to do with the stage; <em>it -is a bad profession</em>!”</p> - -<p>Such, indeed, is the kindest counsel that could be given to -nine-tenths of the postulants of our time. Their wish is to -“go on the stage”—a different thing from the wish to become -an actor. The manager had nothing before him to show that -there were here present the necessary gifts of perseverance, -study, and intelligence. Struck, however, by his earnestness, -he proposed to give him an engagement of a very trifling kind, -which the young man, after deliberation, declined, on the -ground that it would not afford him opportunities of thoroughly -learning his profession. The good-natured Hoskins, who was -himself leaving the theatre to go to Australia, gave him a letter -to a manager, with these words: “You will go on the stage; -when you want an engagement present that letter, and you will -obtain one.” He, indeed, tried to induce him to join him on -his tours, but the offer was declined.</p> - -<p>His mother, however, could not reconcile herself to his -taking so serious a step as “going on the stage.” “I used -frequently,” writes his companion at the elocution class, “to -visit at her house to rehearse the scenes in which John and I -were to act together. I remember her as being rather tall, -somewhat stately, and very gentle. On one occasion she -begged me very earnestly to dissuade him from thinking of the -stage as a profession; and having read much of the vicissitudes -of actors’ lives, their hardships, and the precariousness of -their work, I did my best to impress this view upon him.” But -it is ever idle thus striving to hinder a child’s purpose when -it has been deliberately adopted.</p> - -<p>Having come to this resolution, he applied earnestly to the -task of preparing himself for his profession. He learned a vast -number of characters; studied, and practised; even took -lessons in fencing, attending twice a week at a school-of-arms -in Chancery Lane. This accomplishment, often thought -trifling, was once an important branch of an actor’s education; -it supplies an elegance of movement and bearing.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span></p> - -<p>“The die being now cast,” according to the accepted expression, -John Brodribb, who had now become Henry Irving, -bade adieu to his desk, and bethinking him of the Hoskins -letter, applied to Mr. Davis, a country manager, who had just -completed the building of a new theatre at Sunderland. With -a slender stock of money he set off for that town. By an odd -coincidence the name of the new house was the Lyceum. The -play appointed was ‘Richelieu,’ and the opening night was -fixed for September 29, 1856. The young actor was cast for -the part of the Duke of Orleans, and had to speak the opening -words of the piece.</p> - -<p>Mr. Alfred Davis, a well-known provincial actor, and son of -the northern manager, used often to recall the circumstances -attending Irving’s “first appearance on any stage.” “The new -theatre,” he says, “was opened in September, 1856, and on -the 29th of that month we started. For months previously -a small army of scenic artists had been at work. Carpenters, -property-makers, and, of course, <i lang="fr">costumiers</i>, had been working -night and day, and everything was, as far as could be foreseen, -ready and perfect. Among the names of a carefully-selected -<i lang="fr">corps dramatique</i> were those of our old friend Sam Johnson (now -of the Lyceum Theatre, London); George Orvell (real name, -Frederick Kempster); Miss Ely Loveday (sister of H. J. Loveday, -the present genial and much-respected stage-manager of -the Lyceum), afterwards married to Mr. Kempster; and a -youthful novice, just eighteen, called Henry Irving. Making -his first appearance, he spoke the first word in the first piece -(played for the first time in the town, I believe), on the first or -opening night of the new theatre. The words of the speech -itself, ‘<em>Here’s to our enterprise!</em>’ had in them almost a prophetic -tone of aspiration and success. So busy was I in front -and behind the scenes, that I was barely able to reach my -place on the stage in time for the rising of the curtain. I kept -my back to the audience till my cue to speak was given, all the -while buttoning up, tying, and finishing my dressing generally, -so that scant attention would be given to others. But even -under these circumstances I was compelled to notice, and with -perfect appreciation, the great and most minute care which had -been bestowed by our aspirant on the completion of his -costume. In those days managers provided the mere dress. -Accessories, or ‘properties’ as they were called, were found -by every actor. Henry Irving was, from his splendid white -hat and feathers to the tips of his shoes, a perfect picture; and,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span> -no doubt, had borrowed his authority from some historical -picture of the Louis XIII. period.”</p> - -<p>“The impersonation,” as the neophyte related it long afterwards, -“was not a success. I was nervous, and suffered from -stage fright. My second appearance as Cleomenes in ‘A -Winter’s Tale’ was even more disheartening, as in Act V. I -entirely forgot my lines, and abruptly quitted the scene, putting -out all the other actors. My manager, however, put down my -failure to right causes, and instead of dispensing with my -services, gave me some strong and practical advice.”</p> - -<p>All which is dramatic enough, and gives us a glimpse of the -good old provincial stage life. That touch of encouragement -instead of dismissal is significant of the fair, honest system -which then obtained in this useful training school.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1857-1859.<br /> -EDINBURGH AND THE SCOTTISH THEATRES.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>At the Sunderland Theatre he remained only four months, and -though the manager pressed him to stay with him, the young -actor felt that here he had not the opportunities he desired. -He accordingly accepted an engagement at the Edinburgh -Theatre, which began on February 9, 1857.</p> - -<p>Among the faces that used to be familiar at any “first night” -at the Lyceum were those of Mr. Robert Wyndham and his -wife. There is something romantic in the thought that these -guests of the London manager and actor in the height of his -success and prosperity should have been the early patrons of -the unfriended provincial player. Mr. Wyndham was one of -the successors of that sagacious Murray to whom the Edinburgh -stage owes so much that is respectable. Here our actor remained -for two years and a half, enjoying the benefits of that -admirable, useful discipline, by which alone a knowledge of -acting is to be acquired—viz., a varied practice in a vast round -of characters. This experience, though acquired in a hurried -and perfunctory fashion, is of enormous value in the way of -training. The player is thus introduced to every shade and -form of character, and can practise himself in all the methods<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span> -of expression. Now that provincial theatres are abolished, -and have given place to the “travelling companies,” the actor -has few opportunities of learning his business, and one result -is a “thinness” or meagreness of interpretation. In this -Edinburgh school our actor performed “a round,” as it is -called, of no fewer than three hundred and fifty characters! -This seems amazing. It is, in truth, an extraordinary list, -ranging over every sort of minor character.</p> - -<p>He here also enjoyed opportunities of performing with famous -“stars” who came round the provinces, Miss Ellen Faucit, -Mrs. Stirling, Vandenhoff, Charles Dillon, Madame Celeste, -“Ben” Webster, Robson, the facetious Wright, the buoyant -Charles Mathews, his life-long friend Toole, of “incompressible -humour,” and the American, Miss Cushman.<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> This, it -is clear, was a period of useful drudgery, but in it he found -his account. The company visited various Scotch towns, which -the actor has described pleasantly enough in what might seem -an extract from one of the old theatrical memoirs. He had -always a vein of quiet humour, the more agreeable because it is -unpretending and without effort.</p> - -<p>It would be difficult to give an idea of the prodigious labour -which this earnest, resolute young man underwent while struggling -to “learn his profession” in the most thorough way. -The iron discipline of the theatre favoured his efforts, and its<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span> -calls on the exertions of the actor seem, nowadays, truly extraordinary. -In another laborious profession, the office of -“deviling” for a counsel in full practice, which entails painful -gratuitous drudgery, is welcomed as a privilege by any young -man who wishes to rise. A few of these Edinburgh bills are -now before me, and present nights of singularly hard work for -so young a man. We may wonder, too, at the audience which -could have stomach for so lengthy a programme. Thus, one -night, January 7, 1858, when the pantomime was running, the -performances began with the pantomime of ‘Little Bo-Peep,’ -in which we find our hero as Scruncher, “the Captain of the -Wolves.” After the pantomime came ‘The Middy Ashore,’ in -which he was Tonnish, “an exquisite,” concluding with ‘The -Wandering Boys,’ in which we again find him as Gregoire, -“confidential servant to the Countess Croissey.” We find -him nearly always in three pieces of a night, and he seems, in -pieces of a light sort, to have been “cast” for the gentlemanly -captain of the “walking” sort; in more serious ones, for the -melodramatic and dignified characters. In ‘Nicholas Nickleby’ -he was the hero; and also Jack Wind, the boatswain, the chief -mutineer, in ‘Robinson Crusoe.’ In the course of this season -Toole and Miss Louisa Keeley came to the theatre, when Irving -opened the night as the Marquis de Cevennes in ‘Plot and -Passion,’ next appearing in the “laughable farce” (and it <em>is</em> one, -albeit old-fashioned), ‘The Loan of a Lover,’ in which he was -Amersfort, and finally playing Leeford, “Brownlow’s nephew,” -in ‘Oliver Twist.’</p> - -<p>The young man, full of hope and resolution, went cheerfully -through these labours, though “my name,” as he himself tells -us, “continued to occupy a useful but obscure position in the -playbill, and nothing occurred to suggest to the manager the -propriety of doubling my salary, though he took care to assure -me I was ‘made to rise.’” This salary was the modest one of -thirty shillings a week, then the usual one for what was termed -“juvenile lead.” The old classification, “walking lady,” “singing -chambermaid,” “heavy father,” etc., will have soon altogether -disappeared, simply because the round of characters that engendered -it has disappeared. Now the manager selects, at his -goodwill and pleasure, anybody, in or out of his company, who -he thinks will best suit the character.</p> - -<p>As Mr. Wyndham informs me: “During the short period he -was under our management, both Mrs. Wyndham and myself -took a most lively interest in his promotion, for he was always<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span> -perfect, and any character, however small, he might have been -called upon to represent, was in itself a study; and I believe -he would have sacrificed a week’s salary—a small affair, by the -way—to exactly look like the character he was about to portray.”</p> - -<p>Of these old Edinburgh days Irving always thought fondly. -At the Scottish capital he is now welcomed with an affectionate -sympathy; and the various intellectual societies of the city—Philosophical -and others—are ever glad to receive instruction -and entertainment from his lips. In November, 1891, when he -was visiting the Students’ Union Dramatic Society, he told them -that some thirty years before “he was member of a University -there—the old Theatre Royal. There he had studied for two -years and a half his beautiful art, and there he learnt the lesson -that they would all learn, that—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“‘Deep the oak must sink its roots in earth obscure,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That hopes to lift its branches to the sky.’”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>In some of his later speeches “of occasion” he has scattered -little autobiographical touches that are not without interest. -On one occasion he recalled how he was once summoned over -to Dublin to supply the place of another actor at the Queen’s -Theatre, then under the direction of two “manager-twins,” the -Brothers Webb. The Queen’s was but a small house, conducted -on old-fashioned principles, and had a rather turbulent -audience. When the actor made his appearance he was, to -his astonishment, greeted with yells, general anger, and disapprobation. -This was to be his reception throughout the whole -engagement, which was luckily not a long one. He, however, -stuck gallantly to his post, and sustained his part with courage. -He described the manager as perpetually making “alarums and -excursions” in front of the curtain to expostulate with the -audience. These “Brothers Webb, who had found their twinship -profitable in playing the ‘Dromios,’ were worthy actors -enough, and much respected in their profession; they had -that marked individuality of character now so rarely found on -the boards. Having discovered, at last, what his offence was, -viz., the taking the place of a dismissed actor—an unconscious -exercise of a form of ‘land-grabbing’—his placid good-humour -gradually made its way, and before the close of the engagement -he had, according to the correct theatrical phrase, ‘won golden -opinions.’”</p> - -<p>At the close of the season—in May, 1859—the Edinburgh -company set out on its travels, visiting various Scotch provincial<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span> -towns. During this peregrination, when at Dundee, -the idea occurred to him and a brother-player of venturing “a -reading” in the neighbouring town of Linlithgow. This adventure -he has himself related in print. Our actor has an -agreeable vein of narrative, marked by a quiet, rather placid -humour, which is also found in his occasional speeches. The -charm and secret of this is the absence of affectation or -pretence; a talisman ever certain to win listeners and readers. -Taking his friend, who was Mr. Saker, into his confidence, he -proceeded to arrange the scheme. But he shall tell the story -himself:</p> - -<p>“I had been about two years upon the stage, and was fulfilling -my first engagement at Edinburgh. Like all young men, -I was full of hope. It happened to be vacation time—‘preaching -week,’ as it is called in Scotland—and it struck me that I -might turn my leisure to account by giving a reading. I imparted -this project to another member of the company, who -entered into it with enthusiasm. He, too, was young and -ambitious. I promised him half the profits.</p> - -<p>“Having arranged the financial details, we came to the -secondary question—Where was the reading to be given? It -would scarcely do in Edinburgh; the public there had too -many other matters to think about. Linlithgow was a likely -place. My friend accordingly paid several visits to Linlithgow, -engaged the town-hall, ordered the posters, and came back -every time full of confidence. Meanwhile, I was absorbed in -the ‘Lady of Lyons,’ which, being the play that most charmed -the fancy of a young actor, I had decided to read; and day -after day, perched on Arthur’s Seat, I worked myself into a -romantic fever. The day came, and we arrived at Linlithgow -in high spirits. I felt a thrill of pride at seeing my name for -the first time in big capitals on the posters, which announced -that at ‘eight o’clock precisely Mr. Henry Irving would read -the “Lady of Lyons.”’ At the hotel we eagerly questioned -our waiter as to the probability of there being a great rush. He -pondered some time; but we could get no other answer out of -him than ‘Nane can tell.’ ‘Did he think there would be fifty -people there?’ ‘<em>Nane can tell.</em>’</p> - -<p>“Eight o’clock drew near, and we sallied out to survey the -scene of operations. The crowd had not yet begun to collect -in front of the town-hall, and the man who had undertaken to -be there with the key was not visible. As it was getting late, -we went in search of the doorkeeper. He was quietly reposing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span> -in the bosom of his family, and to our remonstrance replied, -‘Ou, ay, the reading! I forgot all aboot it.’ This was not -inspiriting.</p> - -<p>“The door was opened, the gas was lighted, and my manager -made the most elaborate preparations for taking the money. -While he was thus energetically applying himself to business, I -was strolling like a casual spectator on the other side of the -street, taking some last feverish glances at the play, and -anxiously watching for the first symptoms of ‘the rush.’</p> - -<p>“The time wore on. The town clock struck eight, and still -there was no sign of ‘the rush.’ Half-past eight, and not a -soul to be seen—not even a small boy! I could not read the -‘Lady of Lyons’ to an audience consisting of the manager, -with a face as long as two tragedies, so there was nothing for it -but to beat a retreat. No one came out even to witness our -discomfiture. Linlithgow could not have taken the trouble to -study the posters, which now seemed such horrid mockeries in -our eyes.</p> - -<p>“We managed to scrape together enough money to pay the -expenses, which operation was a sore trial to my speculative -manager, and a pretty severe tax upon the emoluments of the -‘juvenile lead.’ We returned to Edinburgh the same night, -and on the journey, by way of showing that I was not at all -cast down, I favoured my manager with selections from the -play, which he good-humouredly tolerated.</p> - -<p>“This incident was vividly revived last year, as I passed -through Linlithgow on my way from Edinburgh to Glasgow, in -which cities I gave, in conjunction with my friend Toole, two -readings on behalf of the sufferers by the bank failure, which -produced a large sum of money. My companion in the Linlithgow -expedition was Mr. Edward Saker—now one of the -most popular managers in the provinces.”</p> - -<p>In March, 1859, we find our actor at the old Surrey Theatre, -playing under Mr. Shepherd and Mr. Creswick, for a “grand -week,” so it was announced, “of Shakespeare, and first-class -pieces; supported by Miss Elsworthy and Mr. Creswick, whose -immense success during the past week has been <em>rapturously -endorsed</em> by crowded and enthusiastic audiences.” “Rapturously -endorsed” is good. In ‘Macbeth’ we find Irving fitted -with the modest part of Siward, and this only for the first three -nights in the week. There was an after-piece, in which he had -no part, and ‘Money’ was given on the other nights.</p> - -<p>But he had now determined to quit Edinburgh, lured by the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span> -prospect of “a London engagement,” an <i lang="la">ignis fatuus</i> for many -an actor, who is too soon to find out that a London engagement -does not mean exactly a London success. In 1859 he -made his farewell appearance in ‘Claude Melnotte,’ and was -received in very cordial fashion. As he told the people of -Glasgow many years later, he ever thought gratefully of the -Scotch, as they were the first who gave him encouragement.</p> - -<p>Once when engaged at some country theatre in Scotland the -company were playing in ‘Cramond Brig,’ a good sound old -melodrama—of excellent humour, too. Years later, when the -prosperous manager and actor was directing the Lyceum, some -of the audience were surprised to find him disinterring this -ancient drama, and placing it at the opening of the night’s -performance. But I fancy it was the associations of this little -adventure that had given it a corner in his memory, and secured -for it a sort of vitality. Thus he tells the story:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“When the play was being rehearsed, our jolly manager said, -‘Now, boys, I shall stand a real supper to-night; no paste-board -and parsley, but a real sheep’s head, and a little drop of -real Scotch.’ A tumult of applause.</p> - -<p>“The manager was as good as his word, for at night there was -a real head well equipped with turnips and carrots, and the -‘drop of real Scotch.’ The ‘neighbour’s bairn,’ an important -character in the scene, came in and took her seat beside -the miller’s chair. She was a pretty, sad-eyed, intelligent child -of some nine years old. In the course of the meal, when Jock -Howison was freely passing the whisky, she leaned over to -him and said, ‘Please, will you give me a little?’ He looked -surprised. She was so earnest in her request, that I whispered -to her, ‘To-morrow, perhaps, if you want it very much, you -shall have a thimbleful.’</p> - -<p>“To-morrow night came, and, as the piece was going on, to -my amusement, she produced from the pocket of her little plaid -frock a bright piece of brass, and held it out to me. I said, -‘What’s this?’ ‘A thimble, sir.’ ‘But what am I to do -with it?’ ‘You said that you would give me a thimbleful of -whisky if I wanted it, and I do want it.’</p> - -<p>“This was said so naturally, that the audience laughed and -applauded. I looked over to the miller, and found him with -the butt-end of his knife and fork on the table, and his eyes -wide open, gazing at us in astonishment. However, we were -both experienced enough to pass off this unrehearsed effect as -a part of the piece. I filled the thimble, and the child took it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span> -back carefully to her little ‘creepy’ stool beside the miller. -I watched her, and presently saw her turn her back to the -audience and pour it into a little halfpenny tin snuff-box. -She covered the box with a bit of paper, and screwed on the -lid, thus making the box pretty watertight, and put it into her -pocket.</p> - -<p>“When the curtain fell, our manager came forward and patted -the child’s head. ‘Why, my little girl,’ said he, ‘you are -quite a genius. Your gag is the best thing in the piece. We -must have it in every night. But, my child, you mustn’t drink -the whisky. No, no! that would never do.’</p> - -<p>“‘Oh, sir, indeed I won’t; I give you my word I won’t!’ -she said quite earnestly, and ran to her dressing-room.</p> - -<p>“‘Cramond Brig’ had an unprecedented run of six nights, -and the little lady always got her thimbleful of whisky, and -her round of applause. And each time I noticed that she -corked up the former safely in the snuff-box. I was curious -as to what she could possibly want with the spirit, and who she -was, and where she came from. I asked her, but she seemed -so unwilling to tell, and turned so red, that I did not press her; -but I found out that it was the old story—no mother, and a -drunken father.</p> - -<p>“I took a fancy to the little thing, and wished to fathom her -secret, for a secret I felt sure there was. After the performance, -I saw my little body come out. Poor little child! there -was no mother or brother to see her to her home. She hurried -up the street, and turning into the poorest quarter of the town, -entered the common stair of a tumbledown old house. I -followed, feeling my way as best I could. She went up and -up, till in the very top flat she entered a little room. A handful -of fire glimmering in the grate revealed a sickly boy, some two -years her junior, who crawled towards her from where he was -lying before the fire.</p> - -<p>“‘Cissy, I’m glad you’re home,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d -never come.’</p> - -<p>“She put her arms round him, laid the poor little head on -her thin shoulder, and took him over to the fire again, trying -to comfort him as she went.</p> - -<p>“The girl leaned over and put her arms round him, and kissed -him; she then put her hand into her pocket and took out the -snuff-box.</p> - -<p>“‘Oh, Willie, I wish we had more, so that it might cure the -pain.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span></p> - -<p>“Having lighted a dip candle, she rubbed the child’s -rheumatic shoulder with the few drops of spirit, and then -covered up the little thin body, and, sitting before the fire, took -the boy’s head on her knee, and began to sing him to sleep.</p> - -<p>“I took another look into the room through the half-open -door; my foot creaked; the frightened eyes met mine. I put -my finger on my lips and crept away.</p> - -<p>“But as I began to descend the stair I met a drunken man -ascending—slipping and stumbling as he came. He slipped -and stumbled by me, and entered the room. I followed to -the landing unnoticed, and stood in the dark shadow of the -half-open door.</p> - -<p>“A hoarse, brutal voice growled: ‘What are you doing -there?—get up!’</p> - -<p>“‘I can’t, father; Willie’s head is on my knees.’</p> - -<p>“‘Get up!’</p> - -<p>“The girl bowed her head lower and lower.</p> - -<p>“I could not bear it. I entered the room. The brute was -on the bed already in his besotted sleep. The child stole up -to me, and in a half-frightened whisper said, ‘Oh, sir, oughtn’t -people to keep secrets, if they know them? I think they ought, -if they are other people’s.’ This with the dignity of a queen.</p> - -<p>“I could not gainsay her, so I said as gravely as I could to -the little woman, ‘The secret shall be kept, but you must ask -me if you want anything.’ She bent over, suddenly kissed my -hand, and I went down the stair.</p> - -<p>“The next night she was shy in coming for the whisky, and -I took care that she had good measure.</p> - -<p>“The last night of our long run of six nights she looked more -happy than I had ever seen her. When she came for the -whisky she held out the thimble, and whispered to me with -her poor, pale lips trembling, ‘You need only pretend to-night.’</p> - -<p>“‘Why?’ I whispered.</p> - -<p>“‘Because—he doesn’t want it now. He’s dead.’”</p> - -</div> - -<p>The London engagement was offered him by the late Mr. -A. Harris, then managing the Princess’s Theatre. It was for -three years. But when he arrived he found that the only -opening given him was a part of a few lines in a play called -‘Ivy Hall.’ As this meagre employment promised neither -improvement nor fame, he went to the manager and begged -his release. This he obtained, and courageously quitted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span> -London, determined not to return until he could claim a -respectable and conspicuous position. Thus we find him, -with perhaps a heavy heart, once more returning to the provinces, -just as Mrs. Siddons had to return to the same form -of drudgery after her failure at Drury Lane. Before leaving -London, that wholesome taste for appealing to the appreciation -of the judicious and intellectual portion of the community, -which has always been “a note” of his character, prompted -him to give two readings at the old palace of Crosby Hall. -In this he was encouraged by City friends and old companions, -who had faith in his powers. It was something to -make this exhibition under the roof-tree of that interesting old -pile, not yet “restored”; and the <i lang="fr">locale</i>, we may imagine, was -in harmony with his own refined tastes. He read the ‘Lady -of Lyons’ on December 19, 1859, and the somewhat artificial -‘Virginius’ on February 1, 1860. These performances were -received with favour, and were pronounced by the public -critics to show scholarly feeling and correct taste. “His conception -was good, his delivery clear and effective, and there -was a gentlemanly ease and grace in his manners which is -exceedingly pleasing to an audience.” One observer with -some prescience detected “the indefinite something which -incontestably and instantaneously shows that the fire of genius -is present.” Another pronounced “that he was likely to make -a name for himself.” At the last scenes between the hero and -Pauline, the listeners were much affected, and “in some parts -of the room sobs were heard.” Another judge opined that “if -he attempted a wider sphere of action,” he would have a most -successful career. This “wider sphere of action” he has since -“attempted,” but at that moment his eyes were strained, -wearily enough, looking for it. It lay before him in the weary -round of work in the provinces, to which, as we have seen, he -had now to return.</p> - -<p>I have before me a curious little criticism of this performance -taken from an old and long defunct journal that bore -the name of <cite>The Players</cite>, which will now be read with a curious -interest:</p> - -<p>“We all know the ‘Dramatic Reading.’ We have all—at -least, all who have served their apprenticeship to theatrical -amusements—suffered the terrible infliction of the Dramatic -Reader; but then with equal certainty we have all answered to -the next gentleman’s call of a ‘Night with Shakespeare, with -Readings, etc.,’ and have again undergone the insufferable<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span> -bore of hearing our dear old poet murdered by the aspiring -genius. Thinking somewhat as we have above written the -other evening, we wended our editorial way towards Crosby -Hall, where our informant ‘circular’ assured us Mr. Henry -Irving was about to read Bulwer’s ‘Lady of Lyons.’ We asked -ourselves, Who is Mr. Henry Irving? and memory, rushing to -some hidden cave in our mental structure, answered—Henry -Irving, oh! yes, to be sure; how stupid! We at once recollected -that Mr. Irving was a gentleman of considerable talent, and a -great favourite in the provinces. We have often seen his name -honourably figuring in the columns of our provincial contemporaries. -Now, we were most agreeably disappointed on this -present occasion; for instead of finding the usual conventional -respectable-looking ‘mediocrity,’ we were gratified by -hearing the poetical ‘Lady of Lyons’ poetically read by a -most accomplished elocutionist, who gave us not only words, -but that finer indefinite something which proves incontestably -and instantaneously that the fire of genius is present in the -artist. It would be out of place now to speak of the merits of -the piece selected by this gentleman, but the merits appeared -as striking and the demerits as little so as on any occasion of -the kind in our recollection. Claude’s picture of his imaginary -home was given with such poetic feeling as to elicit a loud -burst of approval from his hearers, as also many other passages -occurring in the play. The characters were well marked, -especially Beauseant and Madame Deschappelles, whilst the -little part of Glavis was very pleasingly given. Mr. Irving was -frequently interrupted by the applause of his numerous and -delighted audience, and at the conclusion was unanimously -called to receive their marks of approval.” It was at this interesting -performance that Mr. Toole, as he tells us, first met -his friend.</p> - -<p>A very monotonous feature in too many of the dramatic -memoirs is found in the record of dates, engagements, -and performances, which in many instances are the essence -of the whole. They are uninteresting to anyone save -perhaps to the hero himself. So in this record we shall -summarize such details as much as possible. Our actor went -straight to Glasgow, to Glover’s Theatre, whence he passed -to the Theatre Royal, Manchester, where he remained for -some four years, till June, 1865. Here he met fresh -histrionic friends, who “came round” the circuit in succession—such -as Edwin Booth, Sothern, Charles Mathews,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span> -G.V. Brooke, Miss Heath, and that versatile actor and dramatist -and manager, Dion Boucicault. Here he gradually gained a -position of respect—respect for his unfailing assiduity and -scrupulous conscientiousness, qualities which the public is -never slow to note. In many points he offers a suggestion of -Dickens, as in his purpose of doing whatever he attempted in the -very best way he could. There are other points, too, in which -the actor strongly recalls the novelist; the sympathetic interest -in all about him, the absence of affectation combined with -great talents, the aptitude for practical business, the knowledge -of character, the precious art of making friends, and the being -unspoiled by good fortune. Years later he recalled with grateful -pleasure the encouragement he had received here. And -his language is touching and betokens a sympathetic heart:</p> - -<p>“I lived here for five years, and wherever I look—to the -right or to the left, to the north or the south—I always find -some remembrance, some memento of those five years. But -there is one association connected with my life here that -probably is unknown to but a few in this room. That is an -association with a friend, which had much to do, I believe, -with the future course of our two lives. When I tell you that -for months and years we fought together and worked together -to the best of our power, and with the means we had then, to -give effect to the art we were practising; when I tell you we -dreamt of what might be done, but was not then done, and -patted each other on the back and said, ‘Well, old fellow, -perhaps the day will come when you may have a little more -than sixpence in your pocket;’ when I tell you that that man -was well known to you, and that his name was Calvert, you -will understand the nature of my associations with Manchester. -I have no doubt that you will be able to trace in my own -career, and the success I have had, the benefit of the communion -I had with him. When I was in Manchester I had -very many friends. I needed good advice at that time, for I -found it a very difficult thing as an actor to pursue my profession -and to do justice to certain things that I always had a -deep, and perhaps rather an extravagant, idea of, on the sum -of £75 a year. I have been making a calculation within the -last few minutes of the amount of money that I did earn in -those days, and I found that it was about £75 a year. -Perhaps one would be acting out of the fifty-two weeks of the -year some thirty-five. The other part of the year one would probably -be receiving nothing. Then an actor would be tempted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span> -perhaps to take a benefit, by which he generally lost £20 or -£30. I have a very fond recollection, I have an affection for -your city, for very many reasons. The training I received -here was a severe training; I must say at first it was very -severe. I found it a difficult thing to make my way at all with -the audience; and I believe the audience to a certain extent -was right; I think there was no reason that I <em>should</em> make my -way with them. I don’t think I had learnt enough; I think -I was too raw, too unacceptable. But I am very proud to say -that it was not long before, with the firmness of the Manchester -friendship which I have always found, they got to like me; and -I think before I parted with them they had an affection for me. -At all events, I remember when in this city as little less—or -little more—than a walking gentleman, I essayed the part of -Hamlet the Dane, I was looked upon as a sort of madman -who ought to be taken to some asylum and shut up; but I -found in acting it before the audience that their opinion was a -very different one, and before the play was half gone through I -was received with a fervour and a kindness which gave me hope -and expectation that in the far and distant future I might -perhaps be able to benefit by their kindness. Perhaps they -thought that by encouraging me they might help me on in the -future. I believe they thought that, I believe that was in the -thoughts of many of the audience, for they received me with an -enthusiasm and kindness which my merits did not deserve.”</p> - -<p>The man that could trace these faithful records of provincial -stage life, and speak in this natural heartfelt fashion of memories -which many would not perhaps wish to revive, must have a -courageous and sympathetic nature.</p> - -<p>Many years later, in his prosperity, he came to Bolton to lay -the first stone of a new theatre, on which occasion other old -memories recurred to him. “I once played here,” he said, -“for a week, I am afraid to say how many years ago, and a -very good time we had with a little sharing company from -Manchester, headed by an actor, Charles Calvert. The piece -we acted was called ‘Playing with Fire’; and though we did -not play with too much money, we enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. -I always look back to that week with very great pleasure. The -theatre then had not certainly every modern appliance, but -what the theatre lacked the audience made up for, and a more -spontaneous, good-natured public I never played to.”</p> - -<p>On another occasion he again indulged in a retrospect; -indeed, his eyes seem always to have fondly turned back to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span> -Manchester and these early days of struggle: “I came all the -way from Greenock with a few shillings in my pocket, and -found myself in the splendid theatre now presided over by our -friend Captain Bainbridge. The autumn dramatic season of -1860 commenced with a little farce, and a little two-act piece -from the French, called ‘The Spy,’ the whole concluding with -‘God Save the Queen,’ in which, and in the little two-act piece -from the French, I took prominent parts; so you see, gentlemen, -that as a vocalist I even then had some proficiency, although I -had not achieved the distinction subsequently attained by my -efforts in Mephistopheles. Well, you will admit that the little -piece from the French and the one-act farce—‘God Save the -Queen’ was left out after the first night, through no fault of -mine, I assure you—you will admit that these two pieces did -not make up a very sensational bill of fare. I cannot conscientiously -say that they crammed the theatre for a fortnight, -but what did that matter?—we were at the Theatre Royal, -Manchester, the manager was a man of substance, and we were -all very happy and comfortable. Besides ‘Faust and Marguerite,’ -there was a burlesque of Byron’s, ‘The Maid and the -Magpie,’ in which I also played, the part being that of an -exceedingly heavy father; and you will forgive me, I am sure, -for saying that the very heavy father was considered by some -to be anything but a dull performance. But though the houses -were poor, we were a merry family. Our wants were few: we -were not extravagant. We had a good deal of exercise, and -what we did not earn we worked hard to borrow as frequently -as possible from one another. Ah! they were very happy days. -But do not think that this was our practice always of an afternoon; -there was plenty of fine work done in the theatre. The -public of Manchester was in those days a critical public, and -could not long be satisfied with such meagre fare as I have -pictured. During the five years of my sojourn in Manchester -there was a succession of brilliant plays performed by first-rate -actors, and I must say that I owe much to the valuable experience -which I gained in your Theatre Royal under the -management of John Knowles.”</p> - -<p>In his Manchester recollections, as we see, there are hints of -very serious struggles and privations. Such are, as says Boswell, -“bark and steel for the mind.” A man is the better for them, -though the process is painful; they assuredly teach resource -and patience. Years after, the actor, now grown celebrated and -prosperous, used to relate, and relate dramatically, this very -touching little story of his struggles:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span></p> - -<p>“Perhaps the most remarkable Christmas dinner at which I -have ever been present was the one at which we dined upon -underclothing. Do you remember Joe Robins—a nice genial -fellow who played small parts in the provinces? Ah, no; that -was before your time. Joe Robins was once in the gentleman’s -furnishing business in London city. I think he had a wholesale -trade, and was doing well. However, he belonged to one -of the semi-Bohemian clubs, associated a great deal with actors -and journalists, and when an amateur performance was organized -for some charitable object, he was cast for the clown in a -burlesque called ‘Guy Fawkes.’ He determined to go upon -the stage professionally and become a great actor. Fortunately, -Joe was able to dispose of his stock and goodwill for a few -hundreds, which he invested so as to give him an income -sufficient to prevent the wolf from getting inside his door in -case he did not eclipse Garrick, Kean, and Kemble. He also -packed up for himself a liberal supply of his wares, and started -in his profession with enough shirts, collars, handkerchiefs, -stockings, and underclothing to equip him for several years.</p> - -<p>“The amateur success of poor Joe was never repeated on -the regular stage. He did not make an absolute failure; no -manager would entrust him with parts big enough for him to fail -in. But he drifted down to general utility, and then out of -London, and when I met him he was engaged in a very small -way, on a very small salary, at a Manchester theatre.</p> - -<p>“Christmas came in very bitter weather. Joe had a part in -the Christmas pantomime. He dressed with other poor actors, -and he saw how thinly some of them were clad when they -stripped before him to put on their stage costumes. For one -poor fellow in especial his heart ached. In the depth of a -very cold winter he was shivering in a suit of very light summer -underclothing, and whenever Joe looked at him, the warm -flannel undergarments snugly packed away in an extra trunk -weighed heavily on his mind. Joe thought the matter over, -and determined to give the actors who dressed with him a -Christmas dinner. It was literally a dinner upon underclothing, -for most of the shirts and drawers which Joe had cherished so -long went to the pawnbroker’s or the slop-shop to provide the -money for the meal. The guests assembled promptly, for -nobody else is ever so hungry as a hungry actor. The dinner -was to be served at Joe’s lodgings, and before it was placed on -the table, Joe beckoned his friend with the gauze underclothing -into a bedroom, and pointing to a chair, silently withdrew. On<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span> -that chair hung a suit of underwear, which had been Joe’s -pride. It was of a comfortable scarlet colour; it was thick, -warm, and heavy; it fitted the poor actor as if it had been -manufactured especially to his measure. He put it on, and as -the flaming flannels encased his limbs, he felt his heart glowing -within him with gratitude to dear Joe Robins.</p> - -<p>“That actor never knew—or, if he knew, could never remember—what -he had for dinner on that Christmas afternoon. -He revelled in the luxury of warm garments. The roast beef -was nothing to him in comparison with the comfort of his -under-vest; he appreciated the drawers more than the plum-pudding. -Proud, happy, warm, and comfortable, he felt little -inclination to eat; but sat quietly, and thanked Providence -and Joe Robins with all his heart. ‘You seem to enter into -that poor actor’s feelings very sympathetically.’ ‘I have good -reason to do so, replied Irving, with his sunshiny smile, ‘<em>for I -was that poor actor</em>!’”</p> - -<p>This really simple, most affecting, incident he himself related -when on his first visit to America.</p> - -<p>Most actors have a partiality for what may be called fantastic -freaks or “practical jokes,” to be accounted for perhaps by a -sort of reaction from their own rather monotonous calling. -The late Mr. Sothern delighted in such pastimes, and Mr. Toole -is not exactly indifferent to them. The excitement caused by -that ingenious pair of mountebanks, the Davenport Brothers, -will still be recalled: their appearance at Manchester early in -1865 prompted our actor to a lively method of exposure, which -he carried out with much originality. With the aid of another -actor, Mr. Philip Day, and a prestidigitator, Mr. Frederic -Maccabe, he arranged his scheme, and invited a large number -of friends and notables of the city to a performance in the -Athenæum. Assuming the dress characteristics of a patron -of the Brothers, one Dr. Ferguson, Irving came forward and -delivered a grotesque address, and then, in the usual familiar -style, proceeded to “tie up” his coadjutors in the cabinet, with -the accompaniments of ringing bells, beating tambourines, etc. -The whole was, as a matter of course, successful. It was not, -however, strictly within the programme of an actor who was -“toiling at his oar,” though the vivacity of youth was likely -enough to have prompted it.</p> - -<p>On the eve of his departure from Manchester he determined -on an ambitious attempt, and, as already stated, played ‘Hamlet’ -for his own benefit. The company good-naturedly favoured<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span> -his project, though they fancied it was beyond his strength. -It was, as he has told us, an extraordinary success, and the -performance was called for on several nights—a high compliment, -as it was considered, in the city, where the custom was -to require a “new bill” every night. He himself did not put -much faith in the prophecies of future eminence that were -uttered on this occasion; he felt that, after all, there was no -likelihood of his emerging from the depressing monotonous -round of provincial histrionics. But rescue was nearer at hand -than he fancied. The stage is stored with surprises, and there, -at least, it is the unexpected that always, or usually, happens.</p> - -<p>Leaving Manchester, he passed to Edinburgh, Bury, Oxford, -and even to Douglas, Isle of Man, where the assembly-room -used to do duty as a “fit-up” theatre. For six months, from -January to July, 1866, he was at Liverpool with Mr. Alexander -Henderson.</p> - -<p>Thus had he seen many men and many theatres and many -audiences, and must have learned many a rude lesson, besides -learning his profession. At this moment, as he described it -long after, he found himself one day standing on the steps of -the theatre looking hopelessly down the street, and in a sort -of despair, without an engagement, and no very likely prospect -of engagement, not knowing, indeed, which way to turn, unless -some “stroke of luck” came. But the “actor’s luck,” as he -said, “is really <em>work</em>;” and the lucky actor is, above all, a -worker. At this hopeless moment arrived unexpectedly a -proposal from Dion Boucicault that he should join him at -Manchester and take a leading character in his new piece. -He accepted; but with some shrewdness stipulated that should -he succeed to the author’s satisfaction, he was to obtain an -engagement in London. This was acceded to, and with a -light heart he set off.</p> - -<p>Mr. Boucicault, indeed, long after in America boasted that -it was his good fortune to “discover Irving” in 1866, when -he was playing in “the country.” The performance took place -on July 30, 1866. “He was cast for a part in ‘Hunted Down,’ -and played it so admirably that I invited my friend Mr. Charles -Reade to go and see him. He confirmed my opinion so -strongly, that when ‘Hunted Down’ was played in London a -few months afterwards, I gave it conditionally on Mr. Irving’s -engagement. That was his <i lang="fr">début</i> in London as a leading actor.” -He added some judicious criticism, distinguishing Irving as -“an eccentric serious actor” from Jefferson, who was “an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span> -eccentric comic actor.” “His mannerisms are so very marked -that an audience requires a long familiarity with his style before -it can appreciate many merits that are undeniable. It is -unquestionable that he is the greatest actor as a tragedian that -London has seen during the last fifty years.”<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p>In this piece, ‘Mary Leigh and her Three Lives’ (which -later became ‘Hunted Down’), the heroine was performed by -Miss Kate Terry, at that time the only member of a gifted -family who had made a reputation. Irving’s character was -Rawdon Scudamore, a polished villain, to which he imparted -such force and <i lang="fr">finesse</i>, that it impressed all who witnessed it -with the belief that here was an actor of striking power. It at -once gave him “a position,” and an impression of his gifts -was of a sudden left upon the profession, upon those even -who had not seen him. No fewer than three offers of engagement -were made to him. The author of the piece, as we have -seen, was particularly struck with his powers; his London engagement -was now secure, and he was to receive a tempting -offer, through Mr. Tom Taylor, from the management of the -St James’s Theatre, about to open with the new season.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1866.<br /> -THE ST. JAMES’S THEATRE—‘HUNTED DOWN’—THE NEW -VAUDEVILLE THEATRE—‘THE TWO ROSES.’</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>The directress of the new venture at the St. James’s Theatre -was Miss Herbert, a graceful, sympathetic person of much -beauty, with exquisite golden hair and almost devotional -features, which supplied many of the Pre-Raphaelite brethren -with angelic faces for their canvases. On the stage her efforts<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span> -were directed by great intelligence and spirit, and she was now -about to essay all the difficulties and perplexities of management. -Like so many others, she had before her a very high ideal -of her office: the good, vivacious old comedies, with refined, -correct acting, were to entice the wayward public, with pieces -by Reade, Tom Taylor, and Boucicault. This pleasing actress -was destined to have a chequered course of struggle and -adventure, a mingled yarn of success and disappointment, and -has long since retired from the stage.</p> - -<p>At the St. James’s Theatre the company was formed of the -manageress herself; of Walter Lacy, an actor of fine polish -and grace; of Addison, one of the old school; with that -excellent mirth-making pair, the Frank Mathews. The stage-manager -was Irving. Here, then, he found himself, to his inexpressible -satisfaction, in a respected and respectable position, -one very different from that of the actor-of-all-work in the -provinces. Not the least comforting reflection was that he -had won his way to this station by remarkable talent and conscientious -labour. The theatre opened on October 6, 1866. -‘Hunted Down’ was the piece originally fixed upon, but it -could not be got ready in time, so a change was made to the -lively old comedy of the ‘Belle’s Stratagem,’ the name which it -had been originally proposed to give to Oliver Goldsmith’s -‘She Stoops to Conquer.’</p> - -<p>The actor tells us of this interesting occasion: “I was cast -for Doricourt, a part which I had never played before, and -which I thought did not suit me; I felt that this was the -opinion of the audience soon after the play began. The house -appeared to be indifferent, and I believed that failure was conclusively -stamped upon my work, when suddenly, upon my -exit after the mad scene, I was startled by a burst of applause, -and so great was the enthusiasm of the audience, that I was -compelled to reappear upon the scene, a somewhat unusual -thing except upon the operatic stage.”<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> This compliment is -nearly always paid to our actor when he performs this part.</p> - -<p>In the criticisms of the piece the efforts of the interesting -manageress-actress of course received the chief attention. -Dramatic criticism, however, at this time was of a somewhat -slender kind, and the elaborate study of an individual performer’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span> -merits was not then in fashion. The play itself was -then “the thing,” and accordingly we find the new actor’s -exertions dealt with in a curt but encouraging style: “Mr. H. -Irving was the fine gentleman in Doricourt: but he was more, -for his mad scenes were truthfully conceived and most subtly -executed.” Thus the <cite>Athenæum</cite>. And Mr. Oxenford, with -his usual reserve, after pronouncing that the comedy was “a -compound of English dulness and Italian pantomime,” added -that Doricourt “was heavy company till he feigns madness, -and the mock insanity represented by Mr. H. Irving is the -cause of considerable mirth.” This slight and meagre tribute -contrasts oddly with the elaborate fulness of stage criticism in -our day.</p> - -<p>The piece has always continued in the actor’s <i lang="fr">répertoire</i>, -after being compressed into a few scenes. The rich, old-fashioned -dress and powder suits the performer and sets off -his intelligent features, which wear a smiling expression, as -though consciously enjoying the comedy flavour of the piece.</p> - -<p>A little later, on November 5, ‘Hunted Down’ was brought -forward, in which the actor, as Rawdon Scudamore, made a -deep impression. It was declared that the part “completely -served the purpose of displaying the talent of Mr. Henry -Irving, whose ability in depicting the most vindictive feelings, -<em>merely by dint of facial expression</em>, is very remarkable.” Facial -expression is, unhappily, but little used on our English stage, -and yet it is one of the most potent agencies—more so than -speech or gesture.<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> It was admitted, too, that he displayed -another precious gift—reserve—conveying even more than he -expressed: a store of secret villainy as yet unrevealed. Many -were the compliments paid him on this creation; and friends -of Charles Dickens know how much struck he was with the -new actor’s impersonation. The novelist was always eager to -recognise new talent of this kind. Some years later, “Charles -Dickens the younger,” as he was then called, related at a -banquet how his celebrated father had once gone to see the -‘Lancashire Lass,’ and on his return home had said: “But -there was a young fellow in the play who sits at the table and -is bullied by Sam Emery; his name is Henry Irving, and if -that young man does not one day come out as a great actor, I -know nothing of art.” A worthy descendant of the Kembles,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span> -Mrs. Sartoris, also heartily appreciated his powers.<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> During -the season a round of pieces were brought forward, such as -‘The Road to Ruin,’ ‘The School for Scandal’ (in which he -played young Dornton and Joseph Surface), ‘Robert Macaire,’ -and a new Robertson drama, ‘A Rapid Thaw,’ in which he -took the part of a conventional Irishman, O’Hoolagan! It -must have been a quaint surprise to see our actor in a -Hibernian character. After the season closed, the company -went “on tour” to Liverpool, Dublin, and other towns.<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span></p> - -<p>Miss Herbert’s venture, like so many other ventures planned -on an intellectual basis, did not flourish exceedingly; and in -the course of the years that followed we find our actor appearing -rather fitfully at various London theatres, which at this -time, before the great revival of the stage, were in rather an -unsettled state. He went with Sothern to play in Paris, -appearing at the Théâtre des Italiens, and in December, 1867, -found an engagement at the Queen’s Theatre in Long Acre, a -sort of “converted” concert-room, where nothing seemed to -thrive; and here for the first time he played with Miss Ellen -Terry, in ‘Catherine and Petruchio’ (a piece it might be well -worth while to revive at the Lyceum); and in that very -effective drama, ‘Dearer than Life,’ with Brough and Toole; -in ‘The School for Scandal’; also making a striking effect in -‘Bill Sikes.’ I fancy this character, though somewhat discounted -by Dubosc, would, if revived, add to his reputation. -We find him also performing the lugubrious Falkland in ‘The -Rivals.’ He also played Redburn in the highly popular -‘Lancashire Lass,’ which “ran” for many months. At the -Queen’s Theatre he remained for over a year, not making -any marked advance in his profession, owing to the lack of -favourable opportunities. He had a part in Watts Phillips’ -drama of ‘Not Guilty.’ Then, in 1869, he came to the Haymarket, -and had an engagement at Drury Lane in Boucicault’s -‘Formosa,’ a piece that gave rise to much excited discussion -on the ground of the “moralities.” His part was, however, -colourless, being little more than a cardboard figure: anything -fuller or rounder would have been lost on so huge a stage. It -was performed, or “ran,” for over a hundred nights. With his -sensitive, impressionable nature the performance of so barren a -character must have been positive pain: his dramatic soul lay -blank and fallow during the whole of that unhappy time. Not -very much ground had been gained beyond the reputation of a -sound and useful performer. Relying on my own personal -impressions—for I followed him from the beginning of his -course—I should say that the first distinct effort that left -prominent and distinct impression was his performance at the -Gaiety Theatre, in December, 1869, of the cold, pompous Mr. -Chenevix, in Byron’s ‘Uncle Dick’s Darling.’ It was felt at -once, as I then felt, that here was a rich original creation, a -figure that lingered in the memory, and which you followed, as -it moved, with interest and pleasure. There was a surprising -finish and reserve. It was agreed that we had now an actor of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span> -<i lang="fr">genre</i>, who had the power of creating a character. The impression -made was really remarkable, and this specimen of -good, pure comedy was set off by the pathetic acting of -“friend Toole,” who played ‘Uncle Dick.’ This was a turning-point -in his career, and no doubt led to an important -advance. But these days of uncertainty were now to close. I -can recall my own experience of the curious pleasure and -satisfaction left by the performance of this unfamiliar actor, -who suggested so much more than the rather meagre character -itself conveyed. I found myself drawn to see it several times, -and still the feeling was always that of some secret undeveloped -power in the clever, yet unpretending, performer.</p> - -<p>Irving can tell a story in the pleasantest “high comedy” -manner, and without laying emphasis on points. In May last, -being entertained by the “Savages,” he made a most agreeable -speech, and related this adventure of his early Bohemian days, -in illustration of the truth that “it is always well to have a -personal acquaintance with a presiding magistrate.” “I had -driven one night from the Albion to some rooms I occupied in -old Quebec Street, and after bidding the cabman farewell, I -was preparing to seek repose, when there came a knock at the -door. Upon opening it I found the cabman, who said that I -had given him a bad half-crown. Restraining myself, I told -him ‘to be—to begone.’ I shut the door, but in a few -moments there came another knock, and with the cabman -appeared a policeman, who said, with the grave formality of -his office, ‘You are charged with passing a bad half-crown, and -must come with me to the police-station.’ I explained that I -was a respectable, if unknown, citizen, pursuing a noble, -though precarious, calling, and that I could be found in the -morning at the address I had given. The policeman was not -at all impressed by that, so I jumped into the cab and went to -the station, where the charge was entered upon the night-sheet, -and I was briefly requested to make myself at home. ‘Do you -intend me to spend the night here?’ I said to the inspector. -‘Certainly,’ he said; ‘that is the idea.’ So I asked him to -oblige me with a pencil and a piece of paper, which he reluctantly -gave me. I addressed a few words to Sir Thomas -Henry, who was then presiding magistrate at Bow Street, and -with whom I had an intimacy, in an unofficial capacity. The -inspector looked at me. ‘Do you know Sir Thomas Henry?’ -he said. ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I have that honour.’ The officer -suddenly turned round to the policeman and said, ‘What do<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span> -you mean by bringing such a charge against this gentleman?’ -Then he turned fiercely on the cabman, and nearly kicked him -out of the office. I returned home triumphantly in the cab. I -cannot give a young ‘Savage’ first starting on his career a -sounder piece of advice than this—‘Always know your own -mind, and also a magistrate.’” We practised <i lang="fr">littérateurs</i> -might well envy the pleasant facility and point with which this -is told.</p> - -<p>About this time an attractive actor, who had been much -followed on account of his good looks, one Harry Montague, -had joined in management with two diverting drolls—as they -were then—James and Thorne, who were the pillars of -burlesque at the Strand Theatre. All three felt a sort of inspiration -that they were capable of something higher and more -“legitimate”—an impression which the event has more than -justified. The two last, by assiduous study and better opportunities, -became admirable comedians. A sort of club that -had not prospered was lying unused in the Strand, and a little -alteration converted it into a theatre. The three managers -were anxiously looking for a piece of modern manners which -would exhibit to advantage their several gifts. A young fellow, -who had left his desk for playwriting, had brought them a sort -of comedy which was in a very crude state, but which, it -seemed likely, could be made what they wanted; and by the -aid of their experience and suggestions, it was fashioned into -shape. Indeed, it proved that never was a piece more admirably -suited to the company that played it. The characters -fitted them all, as it is called, “like gloves.” They were -bright, interesting, natural, and humorous; the story was -pleasing and interesting, and the dialogue agreeable and smart. -Such was ‘The Two Roses,’ which still holds the stage, though -it now seems a little old-fashioned. Irving was one of the -performers, and was perhaps the best suited of the group. -The perfect success of the piece proved how advantageous is -the old system of having a piece “written in the theatre,” when -the intelligence of the performers and that of the managers are -brought in aid of each other. The little house opened on -April 16, 1870, with a piece of Mr. Halliday’s; and it was not -until a few weeks later that the piece was brought forward—on -June 4. The success was instantaneous.</p> - -<p>The unctuous Honey, in his own line an excellent original -actor, raised in the good old school of the “low comedian,” -which has now disappeared, was the good-natured Bagman—a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span> -part taken later by James, who was also excellent. Thorne -was efficient, and sufficiently reserved, in the rather unmeaning -blind Caleb Decie; while Montague was the gallant and interesting -hero, Jack Wyatt. The two girls were represented in -pleasing fashion by Miss Amy Fawcitt and Miss Newton. The -piece, as I have said, owed much to the actors, though these -again owed much to the piece. It is difficult to adjust the -balance of obligation in such cases; but good actors can make -nothing of a bad play, whereas a good play may make good -actors. Irving, as Digby Grant, was the chief attraction, and -his extraordinarily finished and varied playing of that insincere -and selfish being excited general admiration.</p> - -<p>It has not been noticed, in these days of appropriation, that -the piece was practically an ingenious variation, or adaptation, -of Dickens’ ‘Little Dorrit.’ For here we find old Dorrit, his -two daughters, and one of their admirers; also the constant -loans, the sudden good fortune, and the equally sudden reverse. -It was easy to see that the piece had been formed by the -evolution of this one character, the legitimate method, it has -always seemed to me, of making a play; whereas the average -dramatist adopts a reverse practice of finding a story, and then -finding characters for it. Character itself <em>is</em> a story. The -character of Digby Grant was the first that gave him firm hold -of public favour. It belongs to pure comedy—a fidgety, selfish -being, self-deluded by the practice of social hypocrisies, querulous, -scheming, wheedling. It is curious that a very good -actor, who later filled the part, took the villainy <i lang="fr">au sérieux</i>, -giving the complaint, “<em>You annoy me very much!</em>” repeated so -often, as a genuine reproach, and with anger. Irving’s was the -true view—a simulated vexation, “<em>You annoy me very much!</em>” -The audience sees that he is not “annoyed very much.”</p> - -<p>After our actor’s visit to America, his performance was -noticed to be more elaborate and laboured, but it had lost some -of its spontaneousness—a result which, it has been noted, is -too often the result of playing to American audiences, who are -pleased with broad effects. This piece continued to be played -for about a year—then thought to be a prodigious run, though -it is now found common enough—during which time Irving’s -reputation steadily increased.<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1871.<br /> -‘THE BELLS’—WILLS’S ‘CHARLES I.’</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>Among those who had taken note of Irving’s efforts was a “long-headed” -American manager, whose loudly-expressed criticism -was that “he ought to play Richelieu!” This was a far-seeing -view. Many years before, this manager had been carrying round -the country his two “prodigy” daughters, who had attracted -astonishment by their precocious playing in a pretty little -piece of courtship, called ‘The Young Couple.’ The elder -later won favour by her powerful and intense acting in ‘Leah’; -and he was now about taking a theatre with a view of bringing -forward his second daughter, Isabel. It seems curious now to -think that the handsome, elegantly-designed Lyceum Theatre, -built by an accomplished architect on the most approved -principles, was then lying derelict, as it were, and at the service -of any stray <i lang="fr">entrepreneur</i>. It could be had on very cheap -terms, for at this time the revival of theatrical interest had not -yet come; the theatre, not yet in high fashion, was conducted -on rude, coarse lines. The attractions of the old correct -comedy, as seen at the Haymarket, were waning, and the old -companies were beginning to break up. Buckstone and -Webster were in their decay, yet still lagged ingloriously on -the stage. The pit and galleries were catered for. Theatres -were constantly opening, and as constantly closing. Burlesques -of the Gaiety pattern were coming into favour. In this state -of things the shrewd American saw an opportunity. He had -an excellent coadjutor in his wife, a clever, hard working lady, -with characteristics that often suggested the good-natured -Mrs. Crummles, but without any of her eccentricities. Her -husband took the Lyceum, and proceeded to form a company; -and one of his first steps was to offer an engagement to Irving.</p> - -<p>The new venture started on September 11, 1871, with an -unimportant piece, ‘Fanchette,’ founded on George Sand’s -‘Petite Fadette,’ in which our actor had a character quite -unsuited to his gifts, a sort of peasant lover.<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> The object was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span> -to introduce the manager’s daughter, Isabel, in a fantastical -part, but the piece was found “too French,” and rather far-fetched. -It failed very disastrously. The young actor, of -course, had to bear his share in the failure; but he could not -have dreamt at that moment that here he was to find his -regular home, and that for twenty long years he was destined -never to be away from the shadow of the great portico of the -Lyceum.</p> - -<p>The prospect for the American manager was now not very -encouraging. He had made a serious mistake at starting. In a -few weeks he had replaced it by a version of <cite>Pickwick</cite>, with a -view of utilizing his chief comedian’s talent as “Jingle.” The -play was but a rude piece of carpentry, without any of the -flavour of the novel, hastily put together and acted indifferently; -the actors were dressed after the pictures in the story, -but did not catch the spirit of their characters. Irving in face -and figure and dress was thoroughly Pickwickian, and reproduced -Seymour and Hablot Browne’s sketch, very happily -catching the recklessness and rattle of the original. Still, it -was difficult to avoid the suggestion of ‘Jeremy Diddler,’ or of -the hero of ‘A Race for a Dinner.’ The reason, perhaps, was -that the adaptation was conceived in a purely farcical spirit. -It has always seemed to me that “the Immortal Pickwick” -should be treated as comedy rather than farce, and would be -more effective on the stage were the Jingle scenes set forth -with due seriousness and sincerity. The incidents at the -Rochester Ball, for instance, belong to pure comedy, and would -be highly effective. Some years later Irving put the work into -the not very skilful hands of Albery, who reduced it to the -proportions of a farce with some pathetic elements. It was -called ‘Jingle.’</p> - -<p>At this time there was “hanging loose on” the theatres, as -Dr. Johnson once phrased it, one Leopold Lewis, who had been -seduced from an office by the enchantments of the stage. He -had made a translation of a very striking French play, ‘Le Juif -Polonais,’ which had been shown to the new actor. This, as -is well known, was by the gifted pair Erckmann-Chatrian, -whose realistic but picturesque stories, that call up before us -the old “Elsass” life, show extraordinary dramatic power. -This ‘Juif Polonais’ is more a succession of tableaux than a -formal play, but, like ‘L’Ami Fritz’ of the same writers, it has -a charm that is irresistible. It is forgotten that a version of -this piece had already been brought before the public at one of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span> -the minor theatres, which was the work of Mr. F. C. Burnand, -at that time a busy caterer for the theatres, chiefly of melodramas, -such as the ‘Turn of the Tide’ and ‘Deadman’s Point.’</p> - -<p>“Much against the wish of my friends,” says our actor, “I -took an engagement at the Lyceum, then under the management -of Mr. Bateman. I had successfully acted in many plays -besides ‘The Two Roses,’ which ran three hundred nights. It -was thought by everybody interested in such matters that I -ought to identify myself with what they called ‘character parts’; -though what that phrase means, by the way, I never could -exactly understand, for I have a prejudice in the belief that -every part should be a character. I always wanted to play in -the higher drama. Even in my boyhood my desire had been -in that direction. When at the Vaudeville Theatre, I recited -the poem of ‘Eugene Aram,’ simply to get an idea as to -whether I could impress an audience with a tragic theme. I -hoped I could, and at once made up my mind to prepare myself -to play characters of another type. When Mr. Bateman -engaged me he told me he would give me an opportunity, if he -could, to play various parts, as it was to his interest as much -as to mine to discover what he thought would be successful—though, -of course, never dreaming of ‘Hamlet’ or of -‘Richard III.’ Well, the Lyceum opened, but did not succeed. -Mr. Bateman had lost a lot of money, and he intended giving -it up. He proposed to me to go to America with him. By my -advice, and against his wish, ‘The Bells’ was rehearsed, but he -did not believe in it much. When he persuaded the manager -to produce ‘The Bells,’ he was told there was a prejudice -against that sort of romantic play. It produced a very poor -house, although a most enthusiastic one. From that time the -theatre prospered.”</p> - -<p>Our actor, thus always earnest and persuasive, pressed his -point, and at last extorted consent—and the play, which required -scarcely any mounting, was performed on November 25, -1871. At that time I was living in the south of France, in a -remote and solitary place, and I recollect the surprise and -curiosity with which I heard and read of the powerful piece -that had been produced, and of the more extraordinary triumph -of the new actor. Everyone, according to the well-worn phrase, -seemed to be “electrified.” The story was novel, and likely to -excite the profoundest interest.</p> - -<p>An extraordinary alteration, due, I believe, to the manager, -was the introduction of the vision of the Jew in his sledge, a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span> -device unmeaning and illogical. In the original the morbid -remorse of the guilty man is roused by the visit of a travelling -Jew, which very naturally excites his perturbed spirit. But -this vision discounts, as it were, and enfeebles the <em>second</em> vision. -The piece would have been presented under far more favourable -conditions had it been prepared by or adapted by someone of -more skill and delicacy than Mr. Leopold Lewis.</p> - -<p>For twenty years and more this remarkable impersonation -has kept its hold upon audiences, and whenever it is revived -for an occasional performance or for a longer “run,” it never -fails to draw full houses; and so it doubtless will do to the end -of the actor’s career. It was his introduction to the American -audiences; and it is likely enough that it will be the piece in -which he will take his farewell.</p> - -<p>The new actor was now becoming a “personality.” Everyone -of note discovered that he was interesting in many ways, -and was eager to know such a man. The accomplished Sir E. -Bulwer Lytton wrote that his performance was “too admirable -not to be appreciated by every competent judge of art,” and -added, “that any author would be fortunate who obtained his -assistance in some character that was worthy of his powers.” -A little later the actor took this hint, and was glad to do full -justice to several pieces of this brilliant and gifted writer.</p> - -<p>At this time there was a clever young man “on town” who -had furnished Mr. Vezin with a fine and effective play, ‘The -Man o’ Airlie,’ from a German original. He was a poet of -much grace, his lines were musical, and suited for theatrical -delivery; he had been successful as a novelist, and was, moreover, -a portrait-painter in the elegant art of pastel, then but -little practised. In this latter direction it was predicted that -he was likely to win a high position, but the attractions of the -stage were too strong for him. Becoming acquainted with the -popular actor, a subject for a new creation was suggested -by his very physique and dreamy style. This was the story of -the unhappy Charles I. Both the manager and the player -welcomed the suggestion, and the dramatist set to work. -Though possessed of true feeling and a certain inspiration, the -author was carried away by his ardour into a neglect of the -canons of the stage, writing masses of poetry of inordinate -length, which he brought to his friends at the theatre, until -they at last began to despair. Many changes had to be made -before the poem could be brought into satisfactory shape; -and, by aid of the tact and experience of the manager and his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span> -actor, the final act was at last completed to the satisfaction -of all.<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></p> - -<p>‘Charles I.’ was brought out on September 28, 1872. Having -been present on this night, I can recall the tranquil pleasure -and satisfaction and absorbing interest which this very legitimate -and picturesque performance imparted, while the melodious -and poetical lines fell acceptably on the ear. This tranquil -tone contrasted effectively with the recent tumult and agitation -of ‘The Bells.’ It was a perfect success, and the author shared -in the glories.</p> - -<p>Only lately we followed the once popular Wills to his grave -in the Brompton Cemetery. His somewhat erratic and, I fear, -troubled course closed in the month of December, 1891. There -was a curious suggestion, or reminiscence, of his countryman -Goldsmith in his character and ways. Like that great poet, -he had a number of “hangers-on” and admirers who were -always welcome to his “bit and sup,” and helped to kill the -hours. If there was no bed there was a sofa. There were -stories, too, of a “piece purse” on the chimney to which people -might apply. He had the same sanguine temperament as -Goldsmith, and the slightest opening would present him with -a magnificent prospect, on which his ready imagination would -lavish all sorts of roseate hues. He was always going to make -his fortune, or to make a “great hit.” He had the same heedless -way of talking, making warm and even ardent protestations -and engagements which he could not help forgetting within an -hour. But these were amiable weaknesses. He had a thoroughly -good heart, was as sensitive as a woman, or as <em>some</em> women, -affectionate and generous. His life, I fear, was to the close -one of troubles and anxiety. He certainly did much for the -Lyceum, and was our actor’s favourite author. ‘Charles I.,’ -‘Eugene Aram,’ ‘Olivia,’ ‘Iolanthe,’ ‘Faust,’ ‘Vanderdecken’ -(in part), ‘Don Quixote’—these were his contributions.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span></p> - -<p>The play was written after the correct and classical French -model. The opening scene, as a bit of pictorial effect—the -placid garden of Hampton Court, with a startling reproduction -of Vandyke’s figure—has always been admired, and furnishes -“the note” of the play. All through the actor presented a -spectacle of calm and dignified suffering, that disdained to -resent or protest; some of his pathetic passages, such as the -gentle rebuke to the faithless Huntley and the parting with his -children, have always made the handkerchiefs busy.</p> - -<p>The leading actor was well supported by Miss Isabel Bateman -in the character of the Queen, to which she imparted a -good deal of pathetic feeling and much grace. For many -years she was destined to figure in all the pieces in which he -played. This, it need not be said, was of advantage for the -development of her powers. Even a mediocre performer cannot -withstand the inspiration that comes of such companionship; -while constant playing with a really good actor has often -made a good actress. But the manager, who had some -odd, native notions of his own, as to delicacy and the refinements -generally, must have rather inconvenienced or disturbed—to -say the least of it—our actor, by giving him as a coadjutor, -in the part of Cromwell, an effective low-comedy actor of <i lang="fr">genre</i>, -in the person of Mr. George Belmore, who did his work with -a conscientious earnestness, but with little colouring or picturesque -effect. On a later occasion he supplied another performer -who was yet more unsuited—viz., the late Mr. John -Clayton—who used to open the night’s proceedings in a light -rattling touch-and-go farce, such as ‘A Regular Fix.’ Both -these actors, excellent in their line, lacked the weight and -dignified associations necessary for the high school of tragedy.<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></p> - -<p>One of those vehement and amusing discussions which -occasionally arise out of a play, and furnish prodigious excitement -for the public, was aroused by the conception taken of -Cromwell, which was, in truth, opposed to tradition; for the -Protector was exhibited as willing to condone the King’s -offences, and to desert his party, for the “consideration” of a -marriage between himself and one of the King’s daughters. -This ludicrous view, based on some loose gossip, was, reasonably<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span> -enough, thought to degrade Cromwell’s character, and -the point was debated with much fierceness.</p> - -<p>During the “run” of ‘Charles I.’ the successful dramatist -was busy preparing a new poetical piece on the subject of -Eugene Aram. It is not generally known that the author himself -dramatized his story. This was produced on April 19, -1873, but the tone seemed to be too lugubrious, the actor -passing from one mournful soliloquy to another. There was -but little action. The ordinary versions are more effective. -But the actor himself produced a deep, poetical impression.</p> - -<p>The manager, now in the height of success, adopted -a style of “bold advertisement,” that suggested Elliston’s -amusing exaggerations.<a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> The piece ran for over one hundred -and fifty nights, to May 17, 1873, and during a portion of the -time the versatile player would finish the night with ‘Jeremy -Diddler.’</p> - -<p>The new season of 1873 began on September 27, with Lord -Lytton’s ‘Richelieu.’ It is a tribute to the prowess of that -gifted man that his three pieces—the ever-fresh and fair ‘Lady -of Lyons,’ ‘Money,’ and ‘Richelieu’—should be really the -only genuine stock-pieces of the modern stage. They never -seem out of fashion, and are always welcomed. It might be -said, indeed, that there is hardly a night on which the ‘Lady -of Lyons’ is not <em>somewhere</em> acted. In ‘Richelieu’ the actor -presented a truly picturesque figure—he was aged, tottering, -nervous, but rallying to full vigour when the occasion called. -The well-known scene, where he invokes “the curse of Rome,” -produced extraordinary enthusiasm, cheers, waving of handkerchiefs, -and a general uproar from the pit. It was in this -piece that those “mannerisms” which have been so often -“girded at,” often with much pitilessness, began to attract -attention. In this part, as in the first attempt in ‘Macbeth,’ -there was noted a lack of restraint, something hysterical at -times, when control seemed to be set aside. The truth is,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span> -most of his attempts at this period were naturally <em>experiments</em>, -and very different from those deliberate, long-prepared, and -well-matured representations he offered under the responsibility -of serious management.</p> - -<p>This piece was succeeded by an original play, ‘Philip,’ by -an agreeable writer who had made a name as a novelist, Mr. -Hamilton Aïdé—a dramatic story of the average pattern, and -founded on jealousy. It was produced on February 7, and -enjoyed a fair share of success.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1874.<br /> -‘HAMLET’—‘OTHELLO’—‘MACBETH’—DEATH OF ‘THE -COLONEL’—‘QUEEN MARY.’</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>But now was to be made a serious experiment, on which much -was to depend. Hitherto Irving had not travelled out of the -regions of conventional drama, or of what might be called -romantic melodrama; but he was now to lay hands on the ark, -and attempt the most difficult and arduous of Shakespearian -characters, Hamlet. Every actor has a dream of performing -the character, and fills up his disengaged moments with speculations -as to the interpretation. The vitality of this wonderful -play is such that it nearly always is a novelty for the audience, -because the character is fitfully changeful, and offers innumerable -modes of interpretation.</p> - -<p>The momentous trial was made on October 31, 1874. It -had long and studiously been prepared for: and the actor, in -his solitary walks during the days of his provincial servitude, -had worked out his formal conception of the character. There -was much curiosity and expectation; and it was noted that so -early as three o’clock in the afternoon a dense crowd had -assembled in the long tunnel that leads from the Strand to the -pit door. I was present in the audience, and can testify to the -excitement. Nothing I have ever seen on the stage, except -perhaps the burst that greeted Sarah Bernhardt’s speech in -‘Phèdre’ on the first night of the French Comedy in London, -has approached the tumult of the moment when the actor, -after the play scene, flung himself into the King’s chair.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span></p> - -<p>Our actor judiciously took account of all criticisms, and with -later performances subdued or toned down what was extravagant. -The whole gained in thoughtfulness and in general -meditative tone, and it is admitted that the meaning of the -intricate soliloquies could not be more distinctly or more -intelligibly conveyed to an audience. He played a good deal -with his face, as it is called: with smilings of intelligence, as if -interested or amused. But, as a whole, his conception of the -character may be said to remain the same as it was on that night.</p> - -<p>The play was mounted with the favourite economy of the -manager, and contrasted with the unsparing lavishness of -decoration which characterized its later revival. But the actors -were good. The sound, “full-bodied” old Chippendale was -Polonius; Swinburne, also of the old school, was the King; -and the worthy Mead, long ago a star himself, and one of Mr. -Phelps’ corps, “discharged” the Ghost with admirable impression -and elocution.<a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> He has now passed away, after long -service, to “that bourne,” etc. Miss Bateman was interesting, -and Mrs. Pauncefort, who was till lately at the Lyceum, was an -excellent Queen. Actor and manager expected much success -for ‘Hamlet,’ and counted on a run of eighty nights, but it -was performed for two hundred! To the present hour it has -always continued—though sparingly revived—the most interesting -of the actor’s performances, looked for with an intellectual -curiosity.</p> - -<p>In March the hundredth night of ‘Hamlet’ was celebrated -by a banquet, given in the saloon of the Lyceum Theatre, at -which all the critics and literary persons connected with the -stage were present. This method of festivity has since become -familiar enough, owing to the never-flagging hospitality of the -later manager of the Lyceum, and offers a striking contrast to -the older days, when it was intimated that “<em>chicken and champagne</em>” -was a ready method of propitiating the critics. Mr. -Pigott, who had recently been appointed the Licenser of -Plays, a man of many friends, from his amiability—now, -alas! gone from us—proposed the health of the lessee, which -was followed by the health of the actor and of the author of the -establishment, the latter, as it was rather sarcastically said, -“giving the hundred and odd literary men present the oft-repeated<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span> -illustration of how far apart are authorship and -oratory.” The good old Chippendale told how he had played -Polonius to the Hamlet of Kemble, Kean, Young, and other -famous tragedians; but protested that “the most natural and, -to his mind, the most truthful representation he had seen was -that of his friend here.” Something must be allowed for post-prandial -exuberance, and no one could more shrewdly appreciate -their value than the actor himself. We may be certain that in -his “heart of heart” he did not agree that he had excelled -Kemble, Kean, Young, and the others. It was interesting, -however, to meet such histrionic links with the past, which are -now broken. Mr. Howe is perhaps the only person now -surviving who could supply reminiscences of the kind.</p> - -<p>A second Shakespearian piece was now determined on, and -on February 14, 1875, ‘Othello’ was brought out. This, it -was admitted, was not a very effective performance. It was -somewhat hysterical, and in his agitation the actor exhibited -movements almost panther-like, with many strange and novel -notes. The ascetic face, too, was not in harmony with the -dusky lineaments of ‘the Moor.’ Here, again, his notion of -the character was immature.</p> - -<p>In the full tide of all this prosperity, theatre-goers were -startled to learn that the shrewd and capable manager, the -energetic “old Colonel,” as he was styled by his friends, was -dead. This event occurred, with great suddenness, on Monday, -March 22, 1875. On the Sunday he had been at a banquet -at a Pall Mall restaurant in company with his leading actor -and other friends, but on the next day, complaining of a headache, -he lay down. His daughter went as usual to the theatre, -to which word was soon brought that he had passed away -peacefully. It was thought advisable to let the performance -be completed, and the strange coincidence was noted that while -his child was bewailing the loss of her theatrical sire, the old -Polonius, she was unconscious of the blow which had deprived -her of her real parent.</p> - -<p>There was much speculation as to what arrangement would -follow, and some surprise when it was announced that the -widow was ready to step intrepidly into his place, and carry on -matters exactly as before. The mainstay of the house was -ready to support her, and though bound by his engagement, he -would, had he been so inclined, have found it easy to dissolve -it, or make it impracticable. He resolved to lend his best -efforts to support the undertaking, in which his views would, of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span> -course, prevail. It was hardly a prudent arrangement, as the -result proved, for the three years that followed were scarcely -advantageous to his progress. The management was to be -of a thrifty kind, without boldness, and lacking the shrewd, -safe instincts of the late manager; while the actor had the -burden, without the freedom, of responsibility. It struck some -that the excellent Mrs. Bateman was “insisting” somewhat too -much upon the family element. The good-hearted, busy, and -managing lady was in truth unsuited to bear the burden of a -great London theatre, and what woman could be? her views -were hardly “large” enough, and too old-fashioned. The -public was not slow to find all this out, and the fortunes of the -theatre began almost at once to change. Our actor, ambitious, -and encouraged by plaudits, was eager to essay new parts; and -the manageress, entirely dependent on his talent, was naturally -anxious to gratify him. Here it was that the deliberation of -the “old Colonel” became valuable. He would debate a -question, examine it from all points, feel the public pulse, and -this rational conduct influenced his coadjutor. Irving was, in -truth, in a false position.</p> - -<p>‘Macbeth’ was speedily got ready, and produced on September -18, 1875. Miss Bateman, of Leah fame, was the Lady -Macbeth, but the performance scarcely added to her reputation. -The actor, as may be conceived, was scarcely then -suited, by temperament or physique, to the part, and by a -natural instinct made it conform to his own particular qualifications. -His conception was that of a dreamy, shrinking being, -overwhelmed with terrors and remorse, speaking in whispers, -and enfeebled by his own dismal ruminations. There was -general clamour and fierce controversy over this reading, for -by this time the sympathetic powers of the player had begun to -exercise their attraction. He had a large and passionately -enthusiastic following; but there were Guelphs and Ghibellines, -Irvingites and anti-Irvingites—the latter a scornful and even -derisive faction. I could fancy some of the old school, honest -“Jack” Ryder, for instance, as they patrolled the Strand at -mid-day, expatiating on the folly of the public: “Call <em>him</em> -an actor!” Some of them had played with Macready, “and -<em>they</em> should think they knew pretty well what acting was!” -This resentful tone has been evoked again and again with -every new actor.<a id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span></p> - -<p>Objection was taken to the uncertainty in the touches; the -figure did not “stand out” so much as it ought. Much of -this, however, was owing to the lack of effect in the Lady -Macbeth, who, assuming hoarse and “charnel-house” tones, -seemed to suggest something of Meg Merrilies. On the later -revival, however, his interpretation became bold, firm, and -consistent. The play had, however, a good deal of attraction, -and was played for some eighty nights.</p> - -<p>The King in Tennyson’s play-poem, ‘Queen Mary,’ I have -always thought one of the best, most picturesque, of Irving’s -impersonations, from the realization it offered of the characters, -impressions, feelings, of what he represented: it was complete -in every point of view. As regards its length, it might be considered -trifling; but it became important because of the <em>largeness</em> -of the place it fitted. Profound was the impression -made by the actor’s Philip—not by what he had to say, which -was little, or by what he had to do, which was less, or by the -dress or “make-up,” which was remarkable. He seemed to -speak by the expression of his figure and glances; and apart -from the meaning of his spoken words, there was another -meaning beyond—viz., the character, the almost diseased -solitude, the heartless indifference, and other odious historical -characteristics of the Prince, with which it was plain the actor -had filled himself. Mr. Whistler’s grim, antique portrait conveys -this perfectly.</p> - -<p>His extraordinary success was now to rouse the jealousy, -and even malignity, which followed his course in his earlier -days, and was not unaccompanied with coarse ridicule and -caricature, directed against the actor’s legs even. “Do you -know,” said a personage of Whistlerian principles—“do you -know, it seems to me there is a great deal of <em>pathos</em> in Irving’s -legs, particularly in the <em>left</em> leg!”</p> - -<p>A letter had appeared, in January, 1876, in <cite>Fun</cite>, the <cite>Punch</cite> -of the middle and lower class, addressed to “The Fashionable -Tragedian.” It affected alarm at the report that, “so soon as -the present failure can with dignity be withdrawn,” he intended -to startle the public and Shakespearian scholars with ‘Othello.’ -In the name of that humanity “to which, in spite of your -transcendent abilities, you cannot help belonging,” he was entreated<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span> -to forbear, if only for the sake of order and morality. -“With the hireling fashion of the press at your command, you -have induced the vulgar and unthinking to consider you a -model of histrionic ability.” In the course of the investigation -the article was traced to a writer who has since become popular -as a dramatist, and who, as might be expected, has furnished a -fair proportion of murders and other villainies to the stage. -What was behind the attack it would be difficult to say; but -there are people to whom sudden unexpected success is a subject -of irritation. Just as hypocrisy is the homage paid to vice, -so it may be that the attacks of this kind are some of the -penalties that have to be paid for success.</p> - -<p>When the theatre closed in 1876, the indefatigable manageress -organized a tour of the company in the provinces, with the view -of introducing the new tragedian to country audiences. There -was, as may be conceived, a prodigious curiosity to see him, -and the tour was very successful. She brought to the task her -usual energy and spirit of organization; though with so certain -an attraction, the tour, like a good piece, might be said to -“play itself,” on the principle of <i lang="fr">ma femme et cinq poupées</i>. I -can recall the image of the busy lady on one of these nights at -Liverpool or Birmingham, seated in her office, surrounded by -papers, the play going on close by, the music of a house -crowded to overflowing being borne to her ears. There was -here the old Nickleby flavour, and a primitive, homely spirit -that contrasts oddly with the present brilliant system of “touring,” -which must be “up to date,” as it is called, and supported -by as much lavishness and magnificence as is expected -in the Metropolis. After the piece came the pleasant little -supper at the comfortable lodgings.</p> - -<p>On this occasion he was to receive the first of those intellectual -compliments which have since been paid him by most -of the leading Universities. At Dublin he excited much -enthusiasm among the professors and students of Trinity -College. He was invited to receive an address from both -Fellows and students, which was presented by Lord Ashbourne, -lately Lord Chancellor of Ireland, then a Queen’s -Counsel. This was conceived in the most flattering and complimentary -terms.</p> - -<p>About this time there arrived in England the Italian actor -Salvini, of great reputation in his own country. He presented -himself at Drury Lane, then a great, dilapidated “Dom-Daniel” -stored with ancient scenery, wardrobes, and nearly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span> -always associated with disaster. In its chilling area, and under -these depressing conditions, he exhibited a very original and -dramatic conception of the Moor, chiefly marked by Southern -fire and passion. The earlier performances were sad to witness, -owing to the meagre attendance, but soon enthusiasm was -kindled. It was likely that mean natures, who had long -resented the favour enjoyed by the English actor, should here -see an opportunity of setting up a rival, and of diminishing, if -possible, his well-earned popularity. Comparisons of a rather -offensive kind were now freely made, and the next manœuvre -was to industriously spread reports that the English actor -was stung by an unworthy jealousy, that the very presence of -the Italian was torture to him, and that he would not even go -to see his performance. These reports were conveyed to the -Italian, who was naturally hurt, and stood coldly aloof. The -matter being thus inflamed, Irving, himself deeply resenting the -unjust imputation made on him, felt it would be undignified to -seek to justify himself for offences that he had not committed. -Everyone knows that during a long course of years no foreign -actor has visited the Lyceum without experiencing, not merely -the lavish hospitality of its manager, but a series of thoughtful -kindnesses and services. But in the present case there were -unfortunately disturbing influences at work.</p> - -<p>Indeed, as the actor day by day rose in public estimation, -the flood of caricatures, skits, etc., never relaxed. He could -afford to smile contemptuously at these efforts, and after a time -they ceased to appear. The tide was too strong to be resisted, -and the lampooners even were constrained to join in the general -eulogy.<a id="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> At one of them he must himself have been amused—a -pamphlet which dealt with his mannerisms and little -peculiarities in a very unsparing way. It was illustrated with -some malicious but clever sketches, dealing chiefly with the -favourite topic of the “legs.” My friend Mr. William Archer, -who has since become a critic of high position, about this time -also wrote a pamphlet in which he examined the actor’s claims -with some severity. Yet so judicial was the spirit of this -inquiry, that I fancy the subject of it could not have been -offended by it, owing to some compliments which seemed to -be, as it were, extorted by the actor’s merit.</p> - -<p>The new Lyceum season opened with yet one more play of -Shakespeare’s—‘Richard III.’ As might have been expected,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span> -he put aside the old, well-established Cibberian version, a most -effective piece of its kind, and restored the pure, undiluted text -of the Bard, to the gratification, it need not be said, of all true -critics and cultivated persons. It was refreshing to assist at -this intellectual feast, and to follow the original arrangement, -which had all the air of novelty.<a id="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a></p> - -<p>A happily-selected piece was to follow, the old melodrama of -‘The Courier of Lyons,’ which was brought out on May 19, -1877, under a new title, ‘The Lyons Mail.’ The success of -‘The Bells’ had shown that for a certain class of romantic -melodramas the actor had exceptional gifts; and it may be -added that he has a <i lang="fr">penchant</i> for portraying characters of -common life under exciting and trying circumstances. This -play is an admirable specimen of French workmanship. The -characters are marked, distinct, amusing; every passage seems -to add strength to the interest, and with every scene the interest -seems to grow. The original title—‘The Courier of -Lyons’—seems a more rational one than ‘The Lyons Mail.’</p> - -<p>With pieces of this kind, where one actor plays two characters, -a nice question of dramatic propriety arises, viz., to how -far the point of likeness should be carried. In real life no two -persons could be so alike as a single person, thus playing the -two characters, would be to himself. The solution I believe -to be this, that likenesses of this kind, which are recognised -even under disguise, are rather mental and intellectual, and -depend on peculiar expression—a glance from the eye, smiles, -etc. Irving, it must be said, contrived just so much likeness -in the two characters as suited the situations and the audience -also. Superficially there was a resemblance, but he suggested -the distinct individualities in the proper way. The worthy -Lesurques was destined to be one of his best characters, from -the way in which he conveyed the idea of the tranquil, innocent -merchant, so affectionate to his family, and so blameless in life.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span> -Many will recall the pleasant, smiling fashion in which he would -listen to the charges made against him.</p> - -<p>A yet bolder experiment was now to be made, and another -piece in which Charles Kean made a reputation, ‘Louis XI.,’ -was brought out on March 9, 1878. It may be said without -hesitation that this is one of the most powerful, finished, and -elaborate of all Irving’s efforts, and the one to which we would -bring, say, a foreign actor who desired to see a specimen of the -actor’s talents.</p> - -<p>This marvellous performance has ripened and improved year -by year, gaining in suggestion, fulness of detail, and perfect -ease. In no other part is he so completely the character. -There is a pleasant good-humour—a chuckling cunning—an -air of indifference, as though it were not worth while to be -angry or excited about things. His figure is a picture, and his -face, wonderfully transformed, yet seems to owe scarcely anything -to the ‘making-up.’ Nowhere does he speak so much -with his expressive features. You see the cunning thought -rising to the surface before the words. There is the hypocritical -air of candour or frankness suddenly assumed, to conceal -some villainous device. There is the genuine enjoyment -of hypocrisy, and the curious shambling walk. How admirably -graduated, too, the progress of decay and mortal sickness, with -the resistance to their encroachments. The portrait of his -Richard—not the old-established, roaring, stamping Richard of -the stage, but the weightier and more composed and refined—dwells -long on the memory, especially such touches as his wary -watchings, looking from one to the other while they talk, as if -cunningly striving to probe their thoughts; that curious scraping -of his cheek with the finger, the strange senile tones, the sudden -sharp ferocity betokening the ingrained wickedness, and the -special leer, as though the old fox were in high good humour.</p> - -<p>Irving naturally recalls with pleasure any spontaneous and -unaffected tributes which his acting has called forth. A most -flattering one is associated with ‘Louis XI.’—a critical work -which one of his admirers had specially printed, and which -enforced the actor’s view of Louis’s character. “You will -wonder,” the author said, “why we wrote and compiled this -book. A critic had said that, as nothing was really known of -the character, manners, etc., of Louis XI., an actor might take -what liberties he pleased with the subject. We prepared this -little volume to put on record a refutation of the statement, a -protest against it, and a tribute to your impersonation of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span> -character.” Another admirer had printed his various thoughts -on Charles I. This was set off with beautifully-executed etchings, -tailpieces, etc., and the whole richly bound and enshrined -in a casket. The names of these enthusiasts are not -given.<a id="FNanchor_16" href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a></p> - -<p>A few years before this time Wagner’s weird opera, ‘The -Flying Dutchman,’ had been performed in London, and the -idea had occurred to many, and not unnaturally, that here was -a character exactly suited to Irving’s methods. He was, it was -often repeated, the “ideal” Vanderdecken. He himself much -favoured the suggestion, and after a time the “Colonel” entrusted -me and my friend Wills with the task of preparing a -piece on the subject. For various reasons the plan was laid -aside, and the death of the manager and the adoption of other -projects interfered. It was, however, never lost sight of, and -after an interval I got ready the first act, which so satisfied -Irving that the scheme was once more taken up. After many -attempts and shapings and re-shapings, the piece was at last -ready—Wills having undertaken the bulk of the work, I myself -contributing, as before, the first act. The actor himself furnished -some effective situations, notably the strange and original suggestion -of the Dutchman’s being cast up on the shore and -restored to life by the waves.</p> - -<p>I recall all the pleasant incidents of this venture, the journeys -to Liverpool and Birmingham to consult on the plot and read -the piece; above all, the company of the always agreeable -Irving himself, and his placid, unaffected gaiety. Indeed, to -him apply forcibly the melodious lines—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent18">“A merrier man,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Within the limits of becoming mirth,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I never spent an hour withal.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>‘Vanderdecken,’ as it was called, was produced on July 8, -1878, but was found of too sombre a cast to attract. It was -all, as Johnson once said, “inspissated gloom,” but there was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span> -abundant praise for the picturesque figure of the actor. Nothing -could be more effective than his first appearance, when he was -revealed standing in a shadowy way beside the sailors, who -had been unconscious of his presence. This was his own -subtle suggestion. A fatal blemish was the unveiling of the -picture, on the due impressiveness of which much depended, -and which proved to be a sort of grotesque daub, greeted with -much tittering—a fatal piece of economy on the part of the -worthy manageress. An unusually sultry spell of summer that -set in caused “the booking to go all to pieces”—the box-keeper’s -consolatory expression. Our actor, however, has not lost faith -in the subject to this hour, and a year or two later he encouraged -me to make another attempt; while Miss Terry has been always -eager to attempt the heroine, in which she is confident of producing -a deep impression.</p> - -<p>At this time our actor’s position was a singular one. It had -occurred to many that there was something strange and abnormal -in the spectacle of the most conspicuous performer of -his time, the one who “drew” most money of all his contemporaries, -being under the direction of a simple, excellent lady, -somewhat old-fashioned in her ideas, and in association with a -mediocre company and economical appointments. There was -here power clearly going to waste. It soon became evident -that his talents were heavily fettered, and that he had now -attained a position which, to say the least, was inconsistent -with such surroundings. His own delicacy of feeling, and a -sense of old obligation, which, however, was really slender -enough, had long restrained him; but now, on the advice of -friends, and for the sake of his own interests, he felt that -matters could go on no longer, and that the time had arrived -for making some serious change. The balancing of obligations -is always a delicate matter, but it may be said that in such -cases quite as much is returned as is received. The successful -manager may “bring forward” the little-known actor, but the -little-known actor in return brings fortune to the manager.</p> - -<p>The situation was, in fact, a false one. Where was he to find -an opening for those sumptuous plans and artistic developments -for which the public was now ripe, and which he felt -that he, and he alone, could supply? The breach, however, -was only the occasion of the separation which must inevitably -have come later. As it was, he had suggested a change in stage -companionship: the attraction of the “leading lady,” with whom -he had been so long associated, was not, he thought, sufficient<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span> -to assist or inspire his own. As this arrangement was declined, -he felt compelled to dissolve the old partnership.</p> - -<p>It presently became known that the popular player was free, -and ready to carry out the ambitious and even magnificent -designs over which he had so long pondered. The moment -was propitious. Except the little Prince of Wales’s, there was -no theatre in London that was conducted in liberal or handsome -style, and no manager whose taste or system was of a -large or even dignified sort. Everything was old-fashioned, -meagre, and mercantile. Everything seemed in a state of -languor and decay. No one thought of lavish and judicious -outlay, the best economy in the end. There was really but -one on whom all eyes now instinctively rested as the only -person who by temperament and abilities was fitted to restore -the drama, and present it worthily, in accordance with the -growing luxurious instinct of the time.</p> - -<p>It was a rude shock for the manageress when this resolution -was communicated to her. The loss of her actor also involved -the loss of her theatre. She might have expostulated, with -Shylock:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“You take my house, when you do take the prop</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That doth sustain my house.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">It followed therefore, almost as a matter of course, that the -theatre, without any exertion on his part, would, as it were, -drop into his hands. He at once prepared to carry out his -venture on the bold and sumptuous lines which have since -made his reputation. The poor lady naturally fancied that she -had a grievance; but her complaint ought in truth to have -been directed against the hard fate which had placed her in a -position that was above her strength.<a id="FNanchor_17" href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> With much gallantry<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span> -and energy she set herself to do battle with fortune in a new -and lower sphere. She secured the old theatre at Islington, -which she partially rebuilt and beautified, and on the opening -night was encouraged by a gathering of her old friends, who -cheered her when she appeared, supported by her two faithful -daughters. Even this struggle she could not carry on long. -She took with her some of her old company, Bentley, the -Brothers Lyons, and others, and she furnished melodramas, -brought out in a somewhat rude but effective style, suited to -the lieges of the district. Later Mr. Charles Warner, greatly -daring, gave a whole course of Shakespearian characters, taking -us through the great characters <i lang="la">seriatim</i>. It was indeed a very -astonishing programme. But the truth was, she had fallen -behind the times; the old-fashioned country methods would -no longer “go down.” In a few years she gave up the weary -struggle, and, quite worn-out, passed away to join the “old -Colonel.”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1878.<br /> -THE NEW MANAGER OF THE LYCEUM—MISS TERRY—HIS -SYSTEM AND ASSISTANTS.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>The Lyceum was designed by a true architect at a time when -a great theatre was considered to be a building or monument, -like a public gallery or museum. In these days little is thought -of but the <i lang="fr">salle</i> or interior, designed to hold vast audiences in -galleries or shelves, and laid out much like a dissenting chapel. -The Lyceum is really a fine structure, with entrances in four -different streets, an imposing portico, abundance of saloons, -halls, chambers, and other <i lang="fr">dependances</i>, which are necessary -in all good theatres. There is a special grace in its lobby -and saloon, and in the flowing lines of the interior, though -they have suffered somewhat from unavoidable alterations.<a id="FNanchor_18" href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> -The stage is a truly noble one, and offers the attraction of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span> -supplying a dignity and theatrical illusion to the figures or -scenes that are exhibited upon it; thus contrasting with the -rather mean and prosaic air which the stages of most modern -houses offer. This dignified effect is secured at a heavy cost -to the manager, for every extra foot multiplies the area of scenery -to a costly degree, and requires many figures to fill the void. -Beazely, a pleasant humorist and writer of some effective -dramas, was the architect of this fine temple, as also of the -well-designed Dublin Theatre, since destroyed by fire.<a id="FNanchor_19" href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a></p> - -<p>It may be imagined that the financial portion of the transaction -could have offered little difficulty. A man of such -reputation inspires confidence; and there are always plenty -ready to come forward and support him in his venture, his -abilities being the security. A story was long industriously -circulated that he was indebted to the generosity of a noble -lady well known for her wealth and liberality, who had -actually “presented him with the lease of the theatre.” The -truth, however, was that Irving entirely relied on his own resources. -According to a statement which he found it necessary -to have circulated, he borrowed a sum of money on business -terms, which he was enabled to pay off gradually, partly out of -profits, and partly out of a substantial legacy. His first repayments -were made out of the gains of his provincial tour.</p> - -<p>The new manager’s first effort was to gather round him an -efficient and attractive company. It became presently known -that Miss Ellen Terry was to be his partner and supporter on -the stage, and it was instantly, and almost electrically, felt that -triumph had been already secured. People could see in advance, -in their mind’s eye, the gifted pair performing together in a -series of romantic plays; they could hear the voices blending, -and feel the glow of dramatic enjoyment. This important step -was heartily and even uproariously acclaimed. No manager -ever started on his course cheered by such tokens of goodwill -and encouragement, though much of this was owing to a natural -and selfish anticipation of coming enjoyment.</p> - -<p>The new actress, a member of a gifted family, was endowed -with one of those magnetically sympathetic natures, the rarest -and most precious quality a performer can have. It may be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span> -said to be “twice blessed,” blessing both him that gives and -him that takes—actor and audience. She had a winning face, -strangely expressive, even to her tip-tilted nose, “the Terry -nose,” and piquant, irregular chin; with a nervous, sinuous -figure, and a voice charged with melodious, heart-searching -accents. She indeed merely transferred to the stage that curious -air of fitful <i lang="fr">enjouement</i> which distinguished her among her friends, -which often thus supplied to her performances much that was -unfamiliar to the rest of the audience. She had, in short, a -most marked <em>personality</em>.</p> - -<p>I possess a rare and possibly unique bill of one of Miss Ellen -Terry’s earliest child-performances, which it may be interesting -to insert here:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="center">LECTURE HALL, CROYDON.</p> - -<p class="center smaller">FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY!</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Tuesday Evening, March 13th, 1860.</i></p> - -<p class="center">MISS KATE TERRY</p> - -<p class="center smaller">AND</p> - -<p class="center">MISS ELLEN TERRY,</p> - -<p class="noindent">The original representatives of Ariel, Cordelia, Arthur, Puck, etc. (which -characters were acted by them upwards of one hundred consecutive -nights, and also before her Most Gracious Majesty the Queen), at the -Royal Princess’s Theatre, when under the management of Mr. Charles -Kean, will present their new and successful</p> - -<p class="center">ILLUSTRATIVE AND MUSICAL</p> - -<p class="center">DRAWING-ROOM ENTERTAINMENT,</p> - -<p class="center">In Two Parts, entitled</p> - -<p class="center">‘DISTANT RELATIONS,’ <span class="smcap">and</span> ‘HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS,’</p> - -<p class="center">In which they will sustain several</p> - -<p class="center">CHARACTERS IN FULL COSTUME.</p> - -<p>N.B.—This entertainment was produced at the Royal Colosseum, and -represented by the Misses Kate and Ellen Terry thirty consecutive nights -to upwards of 30,000 persons—</p> - -</div> - -<p class="noindent">and so on.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span></p> - -<p>In ‘Home for the Holidays,’ the burden seems to have been -cast on Ellen Terry, who performed ‘Hector Melrose, a slight -specimen of the rising generation.’</p> - -<p>In her rather fitful course, Ellen Terry<a id="FNanchor_20" href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> had gone on the -stage, left it, and had gone on it again. Her performance at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span> -the Prince of Wales’s Theatre, the little home of comedy, in -the piece of ‘Masks and Faces,’ had left a deep impression, -and I well recall the sort of passionate intensity she put into -the part. It must be said that there was some uncertainty as -to how she was likely to acquit herself in the very important -round of characters now destined for her; but her friends and -admirers were confident that her natural dramatic instincts and -quick ability, together with the inspiration furnished by so -powerful a coadjutor, would supply all deficiencies. And these -previsions were to be amply justified. But it was the sympathetic, -passionate, and touching performance of Olivia in Mr. Wills’s -version of ‘The Vicar of Wakefield’ that had lately drawn all -eyes to her. It was felt that here was an actress possessing -“distinction” and original power. A series of these performances -at the Court Theatre, under Mr. Hare’s management, -had added to her reputation.</p> - -<p>For the opening of his theatre, the new manager did not -much care to engage actors of mark, relying on a few sound -but unpretentious performers, such as the late Mead, Swinburne, -and others.<a id="FNanchor_21" href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> On his visits to Dublin, the new manager -had met a clever, ardent young man, who had taken share in -the flattering honours offered by Trinity College. This was -the now well-known Bram Stoker, whose geniality, good-nature, -and tact were to be of much service to the enterprise. A short -time before he was in one of the public offices in Dublin; he -was now offered the post of director of the theatre, or “business-manager,” -as it is technically called. Mr. H. Loveday had -been stage-manager under the Bateman dynasty, and was continued -in his office. This gentleman is really <i lang="fr">hors ligne</i> in this -walk, being quick of resource, firm, even despotic where need -requires it, and eke genial and forbearing too. The wonderful -and ambitious development at the Lyceum has drawn on all -his resources, equipping him with an experience which few -stage-managers have opportunities of acquiring. When, as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span> -during the performance of ‘Henry VIII.,’ a crowd of over five -hundred persons passes through the stage-door of the Lyceum, a -stage-manager must needs have gifts of control of a high order -to maintain discipline and direct his forces. And who does -not know the sagacious and ever-obliging Hurst, who has controlled -the box-office for many a year!</p> - -<p>This proper selection of officials is all-important in an enterprise -of this kind. Where they are well chosen, they help to -bind the public to the house. It is well known that our manager -is well skilled in reading the book of human character, and has -rarely made a mistake in choosing his followers. On their side, -they have always shown much devotion to the interests of their -chief.</p> - -<p>Not the least important of these assistants is an accomplished -artist, Mr. Hawes Craven, the painter of the scenery, the deviser -of the many elaborate settings and tableaux which have for so -long helped to enrich the Lyceum plays. The modern methods -of scenery now require an almost architectural knowledge and -skill, from the “built-up” structures which are found necessary, -the gigantic portals and porticoes of cathedrals, houses, squares, -and statues. Monumental constructions of all kinds are contrived, -the details, carvings, etc., being modelled or wrought in -<i lang="fr">papier-mâché</i> material. It may be doubted whether this system -really helps stage illusion as it affects to do, or whether more -sincere dramatic effects would not be gained by simpler and -less laboured methods. To Mr. Craven, too, we owe the -development of what is the “medium” principle—the introduction -of atmosphere, of phantasmagoric lights of different -tones, which are more satisfactory than the same tones when -produced by ordinary colours. The variety of the effects thus -produced has been extraordinary. As might be expected, the -artistic instincts of the manager have here come in aid of the -painter, who with much readiness and versatility has been ready -to seize on the idea and give it practical shape by his craft.<a id="FNanchor_22" href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span></p> - -<p>Mr. Craven, years ago, practised his art on the boards of the -old Dublin Theatre Royal, under Mr. Harris, where his scenery -attracted attention for its brilliancy and originality. His scenes -had the breadth and effect of rich water-colour drawings, somewhat -of the Prout school. Scenic effect is now seriously interfered -with by the abundant effulgence of light in which the -stage is bathed, and in which the delicate middle tints are quite -submerged. The contrast, too, with moulded work is damaging, -and causes the painted details to have a “poorish,” flat air. -Another point to which much prominence had been given from -the first at the Lyceum is the music. A fine and full orchestra—on -an operatic scale almost—with excellent conductors, who -were often composers of reputation, was provided. This rich -and melodious entertainment sets off the play and adds to its -dignity, and may be contrasted with the meagre music ordinarily -provided in theatres.</p> - -<p>Once, travelling in the North, the manager met at a hotel a -young musician who, like himself, “was on tour,” with some -concert party it might be, and fell into conversation with him -on their respective professions. This young man chatted freely, -and imparted his ideas on music in general, and on theatre -music in particular. The manager was pleased with the freshness -and practical character of these views, and both went their -way. Long after, when thinking of a successor to Stöpel—the -old-established Lyceum conductor—he recalled this agreeable -companion, who was Mr. Hamilton Clarke, and engaged him, -at the handsome salary of some six hundred a year, to direct -the music. He was, moreover, a composer of great distinction. -His fine, picturesque overtures and incidental music to ‘The -Merchant of Venice,’ and other Lyceum pieces, still linger in -the memory. It is to be lamented that this connection was -severed. The manager has later applied for aid to such composers -as Sir Arthur Sullivan, Sir A. Mackenzie, Sir Julius -Benedict, Stanford, Jacobi, and Mr. German.</p> - -<p>When he was thus busy with preparations for inaugurating -his new ambitious venture, he had engagements to fulfil in the -country, and could only rush up to town occasionally to push -on the preparations. He tells us how, having secured a new -Horatio, a “modern young actor,” as he called him, whom he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span> -had never seen perform, he came up to town especially to hear -him go through his part. After reading it over for him in the -way he desired it to be done, Irving said, “Now you try it; I -will be the Ghost.” “So he began, and what a surprise it was! -As Horatio he apostrophized me in the most cool, familiar, -drawing-room, conventional style possible to imagine. I was -aghast, ‘No, no,’ I cried. ‘Stop, consider the situation, its -thrills of horror, the supernatural!’ ‘Oh, yes,’ he replied, ‘but -how am I to do it?’ ‘Can’t you understand it?’ I said; ‘try -again.’ He did still the same again and again. There was -nothing to be done but engage another performer.”</p> - -<p>Anticipating a little, I may say here that the Lyceum company, -though not affecting to contain any brilliant “stars,” has from -the beginning exhibited a true homogeneousness in those sound -conscientious actors who have always “discharged” their -characters in an effective way, suited to the requirements of -the piece. With a certain logical consistency, the manager -has ever considered the requirements of his audience and the -theatre. The attraction, it was understood, was to be the two -leading performers, who were to stand, as it were, before a well-studied, -well-composed background. The subsidiary characters, -it was felt, should set off the leading characters. The introduction -of Mrs. Stirling, an actress of the first rank, in such a -part as the Nurse, however welcome as a performance, almost -disturbed the dramatic harmony, and made an inferior part too -prominent. This may seem hypercritical, but there can be no -doubt as to its truth, and it shows what tact is necessary to -secure an even performance. Those members of the corps -who have been with him almost from the beginning, the manager -has thoroughly leavened with his own methods and his own -spirit, thus securing a general harmony. Such useful auxiliaries -include Johnson (a low comedian of the older school), Tyers, -Archer (another low comedian), Haviland (a most useful performer, -who improves with every year), and Andrews. Another -serviceable player was Wenman, who seemed in physique and -method to be exactly suited to Burchell in ‘Olivia.’ During -the past seasons, however, this worthy man has been removed -from the company by death. On a stranger these players might -produce little effect; but the <i lang="fr">habitués</i> of the theatre have grown -familiar with their ways and faces and figures, and would miss -them much were they absent from a new play.</p> - -<p>In addition to this permanent body, the manager is accustomed -occasionally to call to his aid performers of mark,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span> -such as Terriss and Forbes Robertson, the former an admirable -actor in special characters that are suited to his robustness, -though his powers would gain by some refining. Forbes -Robertson is a picturesque performer of many resources, who -can supply colour and passion at need. He has a fair share of -what is called “distinction”; indeed, we wonder that his position -has not ere this become more fixed and certain. But this -rests on a deeper question, and is connected with the conditions -of the stage at this moment, when the only course open to the -player is to become a “manager-actor,” and have his own theatre, -otherwise he must wander from house to house. Arthur Stirling -and Macklin—excellent, well-trained actors both—have been -found at the Lyceum, as also Mr. Bishop. Of the ladies there -are Miss Genevieve Ward, the excellent Mrs. Pauncefort (of the -school of Mrs. Chippendale), Miss Coleridge, occasionally the -vivacious Miss Kate Phillips, and Miss Emery, who takes Miss -Terry’s place in case of indisposition or fatigue.</p> - -<p>The new manager made some decorative alterations in the -theatre which, considering the little time at his disposal, did -credit to his taste and promptitude. The auditorium was -treated in sage green and turquoise blue; the old, familiar -“cameos” of Madame Vestris’s day, ivory tint, were still retained, -while the hangings were of blue silk, trimmed with amber and -gold, with white lace curtains. The ceiling was of pale blue -and gold. The stalls were upholstered in blue, “a special -blue” it was called; escaloped shells were used to shield the -glare of the footlights. The dressing-rooms of the performers, -the Royal box, and Lady Burdett-Coutts’ box were all handsomely -decorated and re-arranged, the whole being directed by -Mr. A. Darbyshire, a Manchester architect. This, however, -was but the beginning of a long series of structural alterations, -additions, and costly decorations, pursued over a term of a -little over a dozen years.</p> - -<p>On Monday, December 30, 1878, the theatre was opened -with the revived ‘Hamlet.’ This was the first of those glittering -nights—<i lang="fr">premières</i>—which have since become a feature of a -London season. From the brilliancy of the company—which -usually includes all that is notable in the arts and professions—as -well as from the rich dresses, jewels, and flowers, which -suggest the old opera nights, the spectacle has become one of -extraordinary interest, and invitations are eagerly sought. Here -are seen the regular <i lang="fr">habitués</i>, who from the first have been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span> -always invited: for the constancy of the manager to his old -friends is well known.</p> - -<p>The play was given with new scenery, dresses, music, etc. -The aim was to cast over the whole a poetical and dreamy -glamour, which was exhibited conspicuously in the treatment -of the opening scenes when the Ghost appeared. There were -the mysterious battlements seen at a distance, shadowy walls, -and the cold blue of breaking day. There were fine halls, with -arches and thick pillars of Norman pattern. Irving’s version -of the part was in the main the same as before, but it was noted -that he had moderated it, as it were; it became more thoughtful.</p> - -<p>Of course, much interest and speculation was excited by the -new actress, who exhibited all her charming grace and winsomeness, -with a tender piteousness, when the occasion called. -“Why,” she told an interviewer, “I am so high strung on a -first night that if I realized there was an audience in front -staring at me, I should fly off and be <em>down at Winchester in -two twos</em>!” On this momentous night of trial she thought -she had completely failed, and without waiting for the fifth act -she flung herself into the arms of a friend, repeating, “I have -failed, I have failed!” She drove up and down the Embankment -half a dozen times before she found courage to go home.</p> - -<p>This successful inauguration of his venture was to bear fruit -in a long series of important pieces, each produced with all the -advantages that unsparing labour, good taste, study, and expense -could supply. Who could have dreamed, or did <em>he</em> dream on -that night? that no fewer than nine of Shakespeare’s greatest -plays, a liberal education for audiences, were destined to be -his contribution to “the public stock of harmless pleasure”? -Every one of taste is under a serious obligation to him, having -consciously or unconsciously learnt much from this accomplished -man.</p> - -<p>On this occasion, adopting a custom since always adhered -to, the manager had his arrangement of the play printed, with -an introduction by a good Shakespearian student, who was -destined to be a well-known figure in the <i lang="fr">entourage</i> of the -Lyceum. Albeit a little <i lang="fr">tête montée</i>, “Frank Marshall,” with -his excited, bustling ways, and eccentric exterior, seems now to -be missed. He was always <i lang="fr">bon enfant</i>. He had written one -very pleasing comedy, ‘False Shame,’ and was also rated as a -high authority on all Shakespearian matters. He published an -elaborate <cite>Study of Hamlet</cite>, and later induced Irving to join -him in an ambitious edition of Shakespeare, which has recently<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span> -been completed. He was also a passionate bibliomaniac, though -not a very judicious one, lacking the necessary restraint and -judgment. He had somewhat of a troubled course, like so -many a London <i lang="fr">littérateur</i>.</p> - -<p>At this time the average theatrical criticism, from lack of -suitable stimulant to excite it, was not nearly so discriminating -as it is now, when there is a body of well-trained, capable men, -who sign their names and carry out their duty with much -independence. It is extraordinary what a change has taken -place. At the opening of Irving’s management there was certainly -a tendency to wholesale and lavish panegyric. Not unnaturally, -too, for all were grateful to one who was making such -exertion to restore the stage to elegance. Some of the ordinary -newspapers, however, overwhelmed him with their rather tedious, -indiscriminate praises; it seemed as though too much could -not be said. There is no praise where <em>everything</em> is praised; -nor is such very acceptable to its object. A really candid discussion -on the interpretation of a character, with reasonable -objections duly made, and argued out with respect, and suggestions -put forward—this becomes of real profit to the performer. -Thus in one single short criticism on a character of Garrick’s—he -was once playing a gentleman disguised as a valet—Johnson -has furnished not only Garrick, but all players too, with an -invaluable principle which is the foundation of all acting: -“No, sir; he does not let the gentleman break out through -the footman.”</p> - -<p>A new play at the Lyceum is rarely concluded without a -speech being insisted upon. Irving himself has favoured this -practice, but reluctantly, yielding only to the irresistible pressure -of ardent and clamorous admirers. The system now -obtains at every theatre where there is an “actor-manager.” -But there can be no question but that it is an abuse, and a -perilous one. It encourages a familiarity, and often insolence, -which shakes authority. The manager, when he makes his -speech, seems to invite the galleries down on to his stage, and it -is to be noticed that the denizens of these places are growing -bolder, and fancy, not unreasonably, that they are entitled to -have <em>their</em> speech, as the manager has his.<a id="FNanchor_23" href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span></p> - -<p>The manager has been always guided by the principle of -alternating his greater attempts with others on a more moderate -and less pretentious scale. With this view he brought out, on -April 17, 1879, the ever-attractive ‘Lady of Lyons’—which -would seem naturally suited to him and his companion. He -was himself in sympathy with the piece, and prepared it on the -most romantic and picturesque lines. It has been usually presented -in a stagey, declamatory fashion, as affording opportunity -to the two leading performers for exhibiting a robustious -or elocutionary passion. It was determined to tone the whole -down, as it were, and present it as an interesting love-story, -treated with restraint. Nothing could be more pleasing than -the series of scenes thus unfolded, set off by the not unpicturesque -costumes of the revolutionary era. It is difficult -to conceive now of a Pauline otherwise attired. It would -seem that a play always presents itself to our manager’s eye as -a series of poetical scenes which take shape before him, with -all their scenery, dresses, and situations. As he muses over -them they fall into their place—the figures move; a happy -suitable background suggests itself, with new and striking -arrangements; and thus the whole order and tone of the piece -furnishes him with inspiration.</p> - -<p>Indeed, it must be confessed that there are few plays we -should be less inclined to part with than this hackneyed and -well-worn drama. The “casual sight” of that familiar title on -the red-brick corner wall in some country or manufacturing -town, it may be weeks old—the old paper flapping flag-like—always -touches a welcome note, and the names of characters -have a romantic sound. In the story there is the charm of -simple effects and primitive emotion; it is worked out without -violence or straining, and all through the ordinary sympathies -are firmly struck, and in the most touching way. Tinselly or -superficial as many have pronounced the piece, there is depth -in it. So artfully is it compounded that it is possible to play -the two characters in half-a-dozen different ways; and clever -actors have exerted themselves to gloss over the one weak -spot in Melnotte’s character—the unworthy deception, which -involves loss of respect. Pauline, however, is a most charming -character, from the mixture of emotions; if played, that is, in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span> -a tender, impulsive way, and not made a vehicle for elocutionary -display. The gracious, engaging part of the heroine -has been essayed by our most graceful actresses, after being -created by the once irresistible Miss Helen Faucit. For over -fifty years this drama has held its ground, and is always being -performed. The young beginner, just stepping on the boards, -turns fondly to the effective “gardener’s son,” and is all but -certain that he could deliver the passage ending, “<em>Dost like the -picture?</em>”—a burst often smiled at, but never failing to tell. -Every one of the characters is good and actable, and, though -we may have seen it fifty times, as most playgoers have, there -is always a reserve of novelty and attraction left which is -certain to interest.</p> - -<p>On this occasion, the old, well-worn drama was so picturesquely -set forth, that it seemed to offer a new pastoral charm. -In Irving’s Claude there was a sincerity and earnestness which -went far to neutralize these highly artificial, not to say “high-flown,” -passages which have so often excited merriment. Miss -Terry, as may be conceived, was perfectly suited in her -character—the ever-charming Pauline; and displayed an abundance -of spontaneousness, sympathy, and tenderness.</p> - -<p>The public was at this time to learn with interest that the -actor was to accompany Lady Burdett-Coutts on a voyage to -the Mediterranean in her yacht <i>The Walrus</i>, and all was -speculation as to the party and their movements. One of -her guests was an agreeable young American named Bartlett, -now better known as Mr. Burdett-Coutts, since become -the husband of the lady. During this pleasant voyage <i>The -Walrus</i> directed her course to Venice and various Italian -cities—all new and welcome to our actor, who was at the -same time taking stock of the manners, customs, dresses, etc., -of the country, and acquiring, as it were, the general flavour -and <i lang="fr">couleur locale</i>. His scene-painter had also found his way -there, and was filling his sketch-book with rich “bits of -colour,” picturesque streets, and buildings. The manager was, -in fact, pondering over a fresh Shakespearian venture—an -Italian play, which was to be produced with the new season. -He was, in fact, about to set on the stage ‘The Merchant of -Venice,’ with every aid that money and taste could supply. -The moment this selection was known, it was felt almost -universally that it was exactly the piece that should have been -chosen. Everyone anticipated by a sort of instinct what entertainment -was in store for them: for here was the part and here<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span> -was the actor. Notwithstanding the elaborate character of -the preparations, the whole was “got up” in some four weeks, -though this period did not comprise the long course of private -study and meditation during which the scheme was gradually -matured in his mind. When on his yachting expedition he -had taken advantage of a hasty visit to Tangier to purchase -Moorish costumes to be used in the Shakespearian spectacle -he was preparing.</p> - -<p>To fill up the interval he got ready Colman’s drama ‘The -Iron Chest,’ produced on September 27, 1879. This powerful -but lugubrious piece has always had an unaccountable attraction -for tragedians. Sir Edward Mortimer belongs, indeed, to -the family of Sir Giles Overreach. The character offered -temptation to our actor from its long-sustained, mournful, and -poetical soliloquies, in which the state of the remorseful soul -was laid bare at protracted length; but, though modified and -altered, the piece is hopelessly old-fashioned. It is impossible -in our day to accept seriously a “band of robbers,” who moreover -live in “the forest”; and the “proofs” of Sir Edward’s -guilt, a knife and blood-stained cloth, carefully preserved in an -old chest which is always in sight, have a burlesque air.</p> - -<p>Irving very successfully presented the image of the tall, wan, -haggard man, a prey to secret remorse and sorrow. Wilford, -the secretary, is by anticipation, as it were, in possession of the -terrible secret of the murder, and is himself a character of -much force and masterful control. He is really the complement -of the leading personage. But Norman Forbes—one of -the Forbes Robertson family, <i lang="la">ingenuus puer</i>, and likewise <i lang="la">bonæ -indolis</i>—made of this part merely an engaging youth, who -certainly ought to have given no anxiety in the world to a -conscience-stricken murderer. The terrors of Sir Edward -would have had more force and effect had he been in presence -of a more robust and resolute personage—one who was not to -be drawn off the scent, or shaken off his prey. This piece well -served its purpose as “a stop-gap” until the new one was -ready.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1879.<br /> -‘THE MERCHANT OF VENICE.’</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>This great and attractive play was now ready: all was anticipation -and eager interest The night of its production—November -1, 1879—was a festive one. The house was most brilliant: -and indeed this may be accounted the first <em>regular</em>, official -Lyceum <i lang="fr">première</i>. I recall that among the audience were Tom -Taylor and Henry Byron, names that now seem ghost-like, so -rapidly do literary shadows depart. Like some rich Eastern -dream, steeped in colours and crowded with exquisite figures -of enchantment, the gorgeous vision of the pageant seems -now to rise in the cold, sober daylight. As a view of Venetian -life, manners, and scenery, it has never been matched. The -figures seemed to have a grace that belonged not to the -beings that pace, and declaim upon, the boards. Add the -background, the rich exquisite dresses, the truly noble scenery—a -revel of colour, yet mellowed—the elegant theatre itself -crammed with an audience that even the Lyceum had not -witnessed, and it may be conceived what a night it was. The -scenery alone would take an essay to itself, and it is hard to -say which of the three artists engaged most excelled. The -noble colonnade of the ducal palace was grand and imposing; -so was the lovely interior of Portia’s house at Belmont, with its -splendid amber hangings and pearl-gray tones, its archings and -spacious perspective. But the Court scene, with its ceiling -painted in the Verrio style, its portraits of Doges, the crimson -walls with gilt carvings, and the admirable arrangements of the -throne, etc., surely for taste, contrivance, and effect has never -been matched. The whole effect was produced by the painting, -not by built-up structures. The dresses too—groupings, -servants, and retainers—what sumptuousness! The pictures -of Moroni and Titian had been studied for the dove-coloured -cloaks and jerkins, the violet merchant’s gown of Antonio, -the short hats—like those of our day—and the frills. The -general tone was that of one of Paolo Veronese’s pictures—as -gorgeous and dazzling as the <i lang="fr">mélange</i> of dappled colour in -the great Louvre picture.</p> - -<p>Shylock was not the conventional Hebrew usurer with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span> -patriarchal beard and flowing robe, dirty and hook-nosed, but a -picturesque and refined Italianized Jew, genteelly dressed: a -dealer in money, in the country of Lorenzo de’ Medici, where -there is an aristocracy of merchants. His eyes are dark and -piercing, his face is sallow, his hair spare and turning gray; he -wears a black cap, a brown gaberdine faced with black, and a -short robe underneath.</p> - -<p>The “Trial scene,” with its shifting passions, would have -stamped Irving as a fine actor. See him as he enters, having -laid aside his gaberdine and stick, and arrayed in his short-skirted -gown, not with flowing but tightened sleeves, so that this -spareness seems to lend a general gauntness to his appearance. -There he stands, with eyes half furtively, half distrustfully -following the Judge as he speaks. When called upon to -answer the appeal made to him “from the bench,” how -different from the expected conventional declaration of violent -hatred! Instead, his explanation is given with an artful adroitness -as if <em>drawn</em> from him. Thus, “If you deny it” is a -reminder given with true and respectful dignity, not a threat; -and when he further declares that it “is his humour,” there is -a candour which might commend his case, though he cannot -restrain a gloating look at his prey. But as he dwells on the -point, and gives instances of other men’s loathing, this malignity -seems to carry him away, and, complacent in the logic of -his illustration of the “gaping pig” and “harmless necessary -cat,” he bows low with a Voltairean smile, and asks, “<em>Are you -answered?</em>” How significant, too, his tapping the bag of -gold several times with his knife, in rejection of the double -sum offered, meant as a calm business-like refusal; and the -“I would have my bond!” emphasized with a meaning clutch. -Then the conclusion, “Fie upon your law,” delivered with -folded arms and a haughty dignity; indeed, a barrister might -find profit here, and study the art of putting a case with adroitness -and weight. But when Antonio arrives his eyes follow -him with a certain uneasy distrust, and on Bellario’s letter -being read out he listens with a quiet interest, plucking his -beard a little nervously. As, however, he sees the tone the -young lawyer takes, he puts on a most deferential and confidential -manner, which colours his various compliments: “O -wise young Judge,” “A Daniel,” etc., becoming almost wheedling. -And when he pleads his oath—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Shall I lay perjury upon my soul?</div> - <div class="verse indent0">No, not for Venice!”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span></p> - -<p class="noindent">there is a hypocritical earnestness, as if he were giving his -reason privately to the counsel, though there is a strange, -indescribable sneer conveyed in that “not for Venice.” Then -the compliment to Portia, “How much more elder art thou than -thy looks!” which he utters, crouching low, with a smiling, even -leering, admiration, but admiration given for what is on his own -side. And what follows opens a most natural piece of business, -arising out of the sort of confidential intimacy which he -would establish between them—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent22">“Ay, his breast,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">So says the bond;—Doth it not, noble judge?</div> - <div class="verse indent0"><em>Nearest his heart</em>, those are the very words”;</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">the latter words pronounced with canine ferocity, his eyes -straining over the other’s shoulders, while he points with his -knife—secure, too, that the other will agree with him. He -fancies that he has brought over the counsel to his side. And -it may be added that this knife is not flourished in the butcher’s -style we are accustomed to; it is more delicately treated, as -though something surgical were contemplated. When bidden -to “have by some surgeon,” nothing could be better than the -sham curiosity with which he affects to search the bond for -such a proviso, letting his knife travel down the lines, and the -tone of “I cannot find it,” in a cold, helpless way, as if he had -looked out of courtesy to his “young Judge,” who appeared to -be on his side. The latter at last declares that there is no -alternative, but that Antonio must yield his bosom to the -knife; then the Jew’s impatience seems to override his -courtesies, his gloating eyes never turn from his victim, and -with greedy ferocity he advances suddenly with “Come, prepare!” -When, however, Portia makes her “point” about the -“drop of blood,” he drops his scales with a start; and, -Gratiano taunting him, his eyes turn with a dazed look from -one to the other; he says slowly, “Is—that—the—law?” -Checked more and more in his reluctant offers, he at last -bursts out with a demoniac snarl—“Why, then, the devil give -him good of it!” Finally he turns to leave, tottering away -bewildered and utterly broken. As may be imagined, the new -Shylock excited a vast deal of controversy. The “old school” -was scornful; and here again it would have been worth hearing -the worthy Jack Ryder—whom we still must take to be -the type of the good old past—on the subject.</p> - -<p>Nothing was more remarkable than the general effect of this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span> -fine and thoughtful representation upon the public. It was a -distinct education, too, and set everyone discussing and reading. -Admittedly one result was the great increase in the sale -of editions of Shakespeare’s works; and the ephemeral literature -engendered in the shape of articles, criticisms, and illustrations -of all kinds was truly extraordinary. Here again was -heard the harsh note of the jealous and the envious. There -was plenty of fair and honest dissent as to the interpretation of -the play, with some reasonably argued protests against the -over-abundant decoration.</p> - -<p>The hundredth night of the run of this prodigiously successful -revival was celebrated in hospitable fashion by a supper, to -which all that was artistic, literary, and fashionable—<i lang="fr">tout -Londres</i> in short—was bidden. The night was Saturday, -February 14, 1880, the hour half-past eleven. As soon as the -piece was terminated a wonderful <i lang="fr">tour de force</i> was accomplished. -In an incredibly short space of time—some forty -minutes, I believe—an enormous marquee, striped red and -white, that enclosed the whole of the stage, was set up; the -tables were arranged and spread with “all the luxuries of the -season” with magic rapidity. An enjoyable night followed. -The host’s health was given by that accomplished man, and -man of elegant tastes, Lord Houghton, in what was thought a -curiously <i lang="fr">mal à propos</i> speech. After conventional eulogiums, -he could not resist some half-sarcastic remarks as to “this new -method of adorning Shakespeare.” He condemned the system -of long “runs,” which he contrasted with that of his youth, -when pieces were given not oftener than once or twice in the -week. He then praised the improvement in the manners of -the profession, “so that the tradition of good breeding and -high conduct was not confined to special families like the -Kembles, or to special individuals like Mr. Irving himself, but -was spread over the profession, so that families of condition -were ready to allow their children to go on the stage. <em>We put -our sons and daughters into it.</em>” I recall now the genuine -indignation and roughly-expressed sentiments of some leading -performers and critics who were sitting near me at this very -awkward compliment. He then proceeded to speak of the new -impersonation, describing how he had seen a Shylock, formerly -considered a ferocious monster, but who had, under their host’s -treatment, become a “gentleman of the Jewish persuasion, in -voice very like a Rothschild, afflicted with a stupid servant and -wilful and pernicious daughter, to be eventually foiled by a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span> -very charming woman. But there was one character Mr. Irving -would never pervert or misrepresent, and that was his own,” etc.</p> - -<p>Never was the power and good-humour—the <i lang="fr">bonhomie</i>—of -the manager more happily displayed than in his reply. As was -said at the time, it showed him in quite a new light. Taken -wholly unawares—for whatever preparation he might have made -was, he said, “rendered useless by the unexpected tone of Lord -Houghton’s remarks”-he was thrown on his impromptu resources, -and proved that he really possessed what is called -debating power. He spoke without hesitation, and with much -good sense and playful humour put aside these blended compliments -and sarcasms.</p> - -<p>Some time before the manager, who was on friendly terms -with the gifted Helen Faucit, determined to revive a piece in -which she had once made a deep impression, viz., ‘King Réné’s -Daughter.’ This poem, translated by her husband, set out the -thoughts and feelings of a young girl in the contrasted conditions -of blindness and of sight recovered. With a natural -enthusiasm for his art, Irving persuaded the actress, who had -long since withdrawn from the stage, to emerge from her retirement -and play her old character “for one night only.” This -news really stirred the hearts of true playgoers, who recalled -this actress in her old days of enchantment, when she was in -her prime, truly classical and elegant in every pose, playing the -pathetic Antigone. But, alas! for the old Antigone dreams; -we could have wished that we had stayed away! The actress’s -devices seemed to have hung too long a “rusty mail, and -seemed quite out of fashion.” Irving did all he could, in an -almost chivalrous style, and it was certainly a kindly act of admiration -and enthusiasm for his art to think of such a revival. -Such homage deserved at least tolerance or recognition.</p> - -<p>Miss Terry herself had always fancied the character of -Iolanthe, and it was now proposed to give the play as an after-piece -to ‘The Merchant of Venice,’ a substantial meal for -one night. Our heroine made a tender, natural, and highly -emotional character of it. A new version or adaptation from -the Danish had been made, for obvious reasons, by the trusty -Wills: the piece was set off by one really lovely scene, which -represented the heart of some deep grove, that seemed almost -inaccessible to us, weird and jungle-like. A golden, gorgeous -light played on the trees capriciously; there was a rich tangle -of huge tropical flowers; while behind, the tall, bare trunks of -trees were ranged close together like sentinels. Golden doors<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span> -opened with a musical chime, or clang; strange, weird music, as -of æolian harps, floated up now and again. With this background, -knightly figures of the Arthurian pattern and ethereal -maidens were seen to float before us. Miss Terry’s conception -of the maid was not Miss Faucit’s, which was that of a placid, -rather cold and elegant being. She cast over the character a -rapture, as though she were all love and impulse, with an -inexpressible tenderness and devotional trust, as when she -exclaimed, “I <em>go</em> to find the light!” This sort of rapture also -tinged Mr. Irving’s character, and the audience were lifted into -a region where emotion reigned supreme.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1880.<br /> -‘THE CORSICAN BROTHERS’ AND ‘THE CUP.’</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>With his usual tact the manager had determined on a change -of entertainment which should offer a marked contrast to the -classical success just obtained, and was now meditating a -revival of the once popular romantic drama, ‘The Corsican -Brothers,’ with all its spectral effects—certainly one of the best -of many admirably-constructed and effective French pieces. -To such a group belong the absorbing ‘Two Orphans,’ ‘Thirty -Years of a Gambler’s Life,’ ‘Victorine,’ and others. ‘The -Lady of Lyons’ is the only one of our <i lang="fr">répertoire</i> that can be -put beside these ingenious efforts. Some thirty years ago, -when it was produced at the Princess’s, the horny-voiced -Charles Kean performing the Brothers, it took hold of the -public with a sort of fascination—the strange music of Stöpel, -and the mysterious, gliding progress of the murdered brother -across the stage, enthralling everyone. There was a story at -the time that the acts, sent over from Paris in separate parcels -for translation, had become transposed, the second act being -placed first, and this order was retained in the representation -with some benefit to the play. This may be a legend; but the -fact is that either act could come first without making any serious -difference.</p> - -<p>Magnificent and attractive as was the mounting of this piece -at the time, it was really excelled in sumptuousness on its later<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span> -revival in 1891. The experience of ten years had made the -manager feel a certainty in the results of his own efforts; his -touch had become sure; the beautiful and striking effects -were developed naturally, without that undue emphasis which -often disturbs the onward course of a piece. All his agents -had grown skilled in the resources of the scene; and he himself, -enjoying this security, and confident as would be a rider -on the back of a well-trained horse, could give his undoubted -fancy and imagination full range. Hence that fine, unobtrusive -harmony which now reigns in all his pictures. Even now -the wonderful opera house, the forest glades, the <i lang="fr">salon</i> in Paris, -all rise before us. Nor was there less art shown in the subdued -tone of mystery which it was contrived to throw over the scenes. -The scenes themselves, even those of reckless gaiety, seemed -to strike this “awesome” note. Much as the familiar “ghost -tune” was welcomed, more mysterious, as it always seemed to -me, was the “creepy variation” on the original theme, devised -by Mr. H. Clarke, and which stole in mournfully at some impending -crisis all through the piece. There was some criticism -on the D’Orsay costumes of the piece; the short-waisted waist-coats, -the broad-brimmed opera hats, and the rich cravats—<i lang="fr">Joinvilles</i>, -as they used to be called. These lent a piquancy, -and yet were not too remote from the present time. Terriss, -it must be said, was lacking in elegance and “distinction.” -There always lingers in the memory the image of the smooth -grace and courtesies of Alfred Wigan, who really made a -dramatic character of the part—sympathetic and exciting -interest. It is in these things that we miss the style, the bearing -which is itself acting, without utterance of a word, and -which now seems to be a lost art. One result of this treatment, -as Mr. Clement Scott truly pointed out, was the shifting -of sympathies. “Château-Renaud was, no doubt, a villain, but -he was one of the first class, and with magnetic power in him. -He had won for himself a high place. He was cold as steel, -and reserved. For him to deal with Louis was child’s play. -And yet all this was reversed: it was Louis that dominated the -situation; no one felt the least apprehension for his fate.” This -is a judicious criticism.</p> - -<p>Familiarity has now somewhat dulled the effect of the gliding -entrance of the ghostly Louis, which at first seemed almost -supernatural. The art was in making the figure rise as it -advanced, and an ingenious contrivance was devised by one of -the stage foremen. It was a curious feeling to find oneself<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span> -in the cavernous regions below the stage, and see the manager -rush down and hurriedly place himself on the trap to be -worked slowly upwards.<a id="FNanchor_24" href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a></p> - -<p>The use of intense light has favoured the introduction of -new effects in the shape of transparent scenery; that is, of a -scene that looks like any ordinary one, but is painted on a thick -gauzy material. Thus, in the first act, the back of the scene -in the Corsican Palace is of this material, through which the -tableau of the Paris duel is shown, a fierce light being cast -upon it. In the original representation the whole wall descended -and revealed the scene. The upper half ascending, the other -offers something of a magic-lantern or phantasmagorian air. -The same material is used in the dream in ‘The Bells,’ when -the spectral trial is seen going on, made mysterious and misty -by the interposition of this gauze.</p> - -<p>In the duel scene one of the swords is broken by an accident; -the other combatant breaks his across his knee, that the duel -may proceed “on equal terms.” It is not, of course, to be -supposed that a sword is broken every night. They are made -with a slight rivet and a little solder, the fitting being done -every morning, so that the pieces are easily parted. But few -note how artfully the performers change their weapons; for in -the early stages of the duel the flourishings and passes would -have soon caused the fragments to separate. It is done during -the intervals of rest, when the combatants lean on the seconds -and gather strength for the second “round,” and one gets his -new weapon from behind a tree, the other from behind a -prostrate log.</p> - -<p>But it is in the next act that the series of elaborate set scenes -succeeding each other entails the most serious difficulties, only -to be overcome in one way—viz., by the employment of an -enormous number of persons. Few modern scenes were more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span> -striking than that of the Opera House lit <i lang="it">à giorno</i>, with its -grand chandelier and smaller clusters running round. The -blaze of light was prodigious; for this some five thousand feet -of gas-tubing had to be laid down, the floor covered with -snake-like coils of indiarubber pipes, and the whole to be contrived -so as to be controlled from a single centre-pipe. There -were rows of boxes with crimson curtains, the spectators filling -them—some faces being painted in, others being represented -by living persons. Yet nothing could be more simple than the -elements of this Opera House. From the audience portion -one would fancy that it was an elaborately built and costly -structure. It was nothing but two light screens pierced with -openings, but most artfully arranged and coloured. At its -close, down came the rich tableau curtains, while behind them -descended the cloth with the representation of the lobby scene -in the Opera House. It used to be customary for the manager’s -friends to put on a mask and domino and mingle with the gay -throng of roysterers in the Opera House scene, or to take a -place in one of the practicable boxes and survey the whole—and -a curious scene it was. A cosy supper in the Beef-steak -room, and a pleasant <i lang="fr">causerie</i> through the small hours, concluded -a delightful and rather original form of a night’s entertainment. -This was followed by the double rooms of the -supper party, a very striking scene: two richly-furnished -rooms, Aubusson carpets, a pianoforte, nearly twenty chairs, -sofas, tables, clocks, and a supper-table covered with delicacies, -champagne bottles, flowers, etc. This is succeeded almost -instantly by a scene occupying the same space—that of the -forest, requiring the minutest treatment, innumerable properties, -real trees, etc. This is how it is contrived. The instant the -tableau curtains are dropped, the auxiliaries rush on the scene; -away to right and left fly the portions of the Parisian drawing-room: -tables, chairs, piano, sofa, vanish in an instant. Men -appear carrying tall saplings fixed in stands; one lays down -the strip of frozen pond, another the prostrate trunk of a tree—everyone -from practice knowing the exact place of the particular -article he is appointed to carry. Others arrive with -bags of sand, which are emptied and strewn on the floor; the -circular tree is in position, the limelights ready. The transformation -was effected, in what space of time will the reader -imagine? In thirty-eight <em>seconds</em>, by the stage-manager’s watch. -By that time the tableau had been drawn aside, and Château-Renaud<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span> -and his friend Maugiron were descending into the -gloomy glade after their carriage had broken down.<a id="FNanchor_25" href="#Footnote_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a></p> - -<p>As we call up the memories of the Lyceum performances, -with what a series of picturesque visions is our memory furnished—poetical -Shakespearian pageants; romantic melodramatic -stories, set forth with elegance and <i lang="fr">vraisemblance</i>; plays of -pathetic or domestic interest; exhilarating comedies; with -highly dramatic poems, written by the late Poet Laureate, -Wills, and others. Indeed, who could have conceived on the -opening night of the Lyceum management, when ‘Hamlet’ -was to be brought out, that this was to be the first of a regular -series—viz., nine gorgeous and ambitious presentations of -Shakespearian pieces, each involving almost stupendous efforts, -intellectual and physical, that we were to see in succession -‘The Merchant of Venice,’ ‘Romeo and Juliet,’ ‘Much -Ado About Nothing,’ ‘Othello,’ ‘Twelfth Night,’ ‘Macbeth,’ -‘Henry VIII.,’ and ‘King Lear’? What a gift to the public -in the shape of the attendant associations, in the glimpses of -Italian and other scenery, the rich costumes, the archæology!</p> - -<p>The late Laureate, not contented with the popularity which -his poems have won, always “hankered” after the entrancing -publicity and excitement of the theatre. He made many -an attempt in this direction, and his list of performed dramas -is a fairly long one; few, however, have enjoyed any signal -success, save perhaps the last, recently produced in the United -States. To one indeed—witness the unlucky ‘Promise of -May’—the regular “first-nighter,” as he is called, was indebted -for an amusing and enjoyable evening’s entertainment. It must -be conceded, however, that there is a dramatic tone or flavour<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span> -about his pieces which is attractive, in spite of all deficiencies, -and anyone who could not see a touching grace and elegance -in such a piece as ‘The Falcon,’ weak as it is in treatment, -must have little taste or feeling. So with ‘Queen Mary,’ which -had a certain grim power, and, above all, local colour. His -own striking success in the character of King Philip was an -agreeable recollection for Irving; and he now lent himself with -much enthusiasm to a project for bringing forward a new drama -by the poet. The preparations for this elegant play were of -the most lavish and unstinted kind. Nothing, literally, was -spared in the outlay of either study, thought, money, or art. -The manager usually follows an eclectic system, choosing his -<i lang="fr">aides</i> and assistants as they appear suited to each play. Thus -an architect of literary tastes, Mr. Knowles, was called in to -design a regular Temple-interior, which was the principal scene, -and which was to be treated, <i lang="la">secundum artem</i>, in professional -style. And so it rose with all its pillars and pediments “behind -the scenes.”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent10">“No ponderous axes rung;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Like some tall palm the mystic fabric sprung.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The name of the new piece was ‘The Cup,’ a fine “barbarian” -story, strangely interesting and even fascinating. It -was, of course, diffuse and expanded to inordinate length. And -there were many pleasant stories afloat of the poet contending -“for the dear life” for his “ewe lambs,” and every line of his -poetry; the manager, in his pleasant, placid way—but firm -withal—quietly insisting on the most abundant compression.</p> - -<p>The night of performance was that of January 3, 1881, when -the beautiful play-poem was at last set before the audience in -all its attraction. It still lingers in the memory with an inexpressible -charm, breathing poetry and romance. We shall -ever look back fondly to ‘The Cup,’ with its exquisite setting, -and lament heartily that others did not so cordially or enthusiastically -appreciate it. There was something so fascinating -about the play, something so refining, and also so -“fantastical,” that though lacking the strong thews and muscles -of a regular drama, it satisfied eye and ear. As it floated -before us, in airy, evanescent fashion, it seemed to recall the -lines that wind up the most charming of Shakespeare’s plays, -when the revels now had ended, and all had “melted into air, -into thin air.” The noble Temple, with its rich mouldings, -was destined too soon, alas! to pass away into the same dark<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span> -grave of so many noble creations. On the two chief characters, -both full of tragic power, the eye rested with an almost entrancing -interest. Never did Irving <em>act</em> better—that is, never -did he convey by his look and tones the evidence of the -barbaric conception within him. There was a fine, pagan, -reckless savagery, yet controlled by dignity. Miss Terry’s -Camma returns to the memory like the fragment of a dream. -The delightful creation was brought before us more by her -sympathetic bearing and motion than by speech; what music -was there in those tones, pitched in low, melodious key, interpreting -the music of Tennyson! Her face and outline of -figure, refined and poetical as they were, became more refined -still in association with the lovely scenery and its surroundings. -She seemed to belong to the mythological past. There was a -strange calm towards the close, and all through no undue -theatrical emphasis or faulty tone of recitation to disturb that -dreamy sense.</p> - -<p>It was not a little disheartening to think that this “entire, -perfect chrysolite” was received with a rather cold admiration, -or at least not with the enthusiasm it richly merited. The -apathetic crowd scarcely appreciated the too delicate fare set -before it, we scarcely know why. I suppose that it had not -sufficient <em>robustness</em>, as it is called. After some weeks the -manager found it needful to supplement the attraction of the -play by the revived ‘Corsican Brothers.’ It may be conceived -what a strain<a id="FNanchor_26" href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> was here on the resources, not merely of the -actors, but even of all who were concerned with the scenery -and properties. Two important pieces had to be treated and -manipulated within an incredibly short space of time.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1881.<br /> -‘OTHELLO’ AND ‘THE TWO ROSES’ REVIVED.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>At this time there came to London an American actor whose -reputation in his own country was very high, and for whom it -was claimed that, as a legitimate performer, he was superior to -all rivals. This was Mr. Edwin Booth. He was welcomed -with cordiality and much curiosity, and by none was he received -with such hearty goodwill as by the manager of the -Lyceum. Unluckily, he had made his arrangements injudiciously, -having agreed to appear under a management which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span> -was quite unsuited to the proper exhibition of his gifts. The -Princess’s Theatre was a house devoted to melodrama of the -commoner type, and was directed by commercial rather than by -æsthetic principles. This mistake proved fatal. The manager, -finding that there was no likelihood of success, was not inclined -to waste his resources, and, no doubt to the anguish of the -actor, brought out the pieces in a meagre fashion that was -consistent with the traditions of Oxford Street, but fatal to -the American’s chances.</p> - -<p>In this disastrous state of things the manager of the Lyceum -came to the rescue of his <i lang="fr">confrère</i> with a suggestion as delicately -conceived as it was generous. He offered him his -theatre, with its splendid resources and traditions, his company, -and—himself. He proposed that a Shakespearian play should -be produced on the customary scale of magnificence, and that -he and Booth should fill the leading characters. This handsome -offer was, of course, accepted with gratitude, and ‘Othello’ -was selected as the play.</p> - -<p>The arrangements for this “Booth season,” as it might be -termed, were of an unusual and certainly laborious kind. The -manager, however, was never disposed to spare himself. The -programme began on May 2, 1881, when Booth was to appear -as Othello, performing on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, the -manager playing Iago. On the other nights of the week, ‘The -Cup,’ with the lively ‘Belle’s Stratagem,’ was to be performed. -In the following week there was the same arrangement, except -that Irving took the part of Othello.<a id="FNanchor_27" href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a></p> - -<p>The night of May 2 was an exciting one, even in the list of -exciting Lyceum nights. The Americans were, of course, -there in great force. Irving—Booth—Ellen Terry: this surely<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span> -formed, in theatrical phrase, a galaxy of talent, and the cynosure -of a crowded, brilliant audience. It was, indeed, a charming -performance—intellectual, highly-coloured, and treated in -the romantic fashion which the age seems to demand. The -old days of lusty-throated, welkin-splitting declamation, emphasized -with strides and lunges, are done with.</p> - -<p>Of Irving’s Iago it would be difficult to say too much. -There have been always the two extremes: one portraying the -Ancient as a malignant, scowling, crafty villain, doing much -work with his eyes; the other as a kind of dapper, sarcastic, -sneering personage, much after the model of Mephistopheles, -this tone being emphasized by an airy, fashionable dress, as -though he were some cynical Venetian “about town.” In -Irving was seen the man of power and capability. There was -breadth of treatment—the character was coherent throughout. -The keynote to the perplexing character was found in his -<em>humour</em>. In “I hate the Moor!”—one of those secret, jealous, -morbid broodings which belong to human nature—an admirably -delivered soliloquy, he strives to find some reasonable excuse -for this suggestion; ‘He has done my office’ is merely -accepted as a suitable pretext. The mode in which this was, -as it were, chased through the turnings of his soul; the anxious -tone of search, “I know not if ’t be true”; the covering up his -face, and the motion by which he let his hands glide, revealing -an elated expression at having found what would “serve,” was -a perfect exhibition of the processes of thought. All this was -set off by a dress of singular appropriateness and richness: a -crimson and gold jerkin, with a mantle of dull or faded green, -sometimes alternated with a short cloak and a red mantle worn -on one arm.</p> - -<p>In Booth’s Othello there appeared to be a lack of vigour, -and the elocutionist was too present. There was a system of -“points.” Some critics were rude enough to say that “his -make-up suggested at times an Indian juggler, while about the -head he seemed a low-cast Bengali.” He was never the -“noble Moor.” “He had a tendency at times to gobble like -a turkey.” This was rather hard measure. But in the scene -with Iago, and, above all, in the scenes with Desdemona, the -frantic bursts of jealousy, the command of varied tones, the -by-play, the fierce ordering of Emilia and his wife—all this -was of a high class, and stirred us. Miss Terry’s Desdemona -was pathetic, and her piteous pleadings and remonstrances -went straight to the heart.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span></p> - -<p>On the next performance the parts were interchanged. A -figure arrayed in a flowing amber robe over a purple brocaded -gaberdine; a small, snow-white turban; a face dark, yet not -“black”—such was Irving’s conception of Othello, which indeed -answered to our ideal of the Moor. His tall figure gave -him advantage. His reading of the part, again, was of the -romantic, passionate kind, and he leant more on the tender -side of the character than on the ferocious or barbaric. In the -scene of Desdemona’s death or murder, there was now another -and more effective arrangement: the bed was placed in the -centre of the stage, and the whole became more important and -conspicuous. When it was at the side, as in the Booth arrangement, -it was difficult to believe in the continued presence of -the lady after her death, and there was an awkwardness in the -efforts to keep in sight of the audience during the struggle. -There is not space to give details of the points which distinguished -this conception—it is virtually a new character; but -it will always be played by Irving under a disadvantage, as the -play of his expressive face—the meaning, “travelling” eyes—is -greatly veiled by the enforced swarthiness and Æthiop tint.</p> - -<p>Booth’s Iago had been seen before, and was much praised. -It was on the old “Mephistopheles” lines. The dress, indeed, -strangely meagre and old-fashioned, scarcely harmonized with -the rich costumes about him.</p> - -<p>The whole of this transaction, as I have said, did honour to -the English actor. Nothing more cordially hospitable could -have been imagined. At the time there was a “Booth party,” -who gave out that their favourite had not had fair play at the -Princess’s, and that on a properly-appointed stage his superiority -to all rivals would be apparent. These and other utterances -were scattered about freely. Irving might have passed them -by with indifference. It was certainly not his duty to share his -stage with a stranger and a rival. At the same time we may -give him credit for a certain delicate <i lang="fr">finesse</i>, and he may have -later thought, with a smiling, good-humoured complacency, -that, owing to his allowing the experiment, the issue had -turned out very differently from what “good-natured people” -had hoped. The mortification for the American must have -been the greater from the disadvantage of the contrast, which -brought out in the most forcible way the want of “distinction,” -the stock of old, rather faded, devices with which he came -provided, and which he tried on his audience with an antique -gravity. Audiences have, unfortunately, but little delicacy.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span> -In their plain way they show their appreciation of whom they -think “the better man” in a business-like manner; and I -remember how they insisted that the encouraging applause -which they gave to the new actor should be shared by his -host.</p> - -<p>It should be mentioned that the prices on this engagement -were raised to the opera scale—a guinea in the stalls, half-a-guinea -for the dress-circle.</p> - -<p>When the actor took his benefit at the close of this laborious -season, the theatre presented an opera-house appearance, and -was filled to overflowing with a miscellany of brave men and -fair women, the latter arrayed in special splendour and giving -the whole an air of rich luxury and magnificence befitting the -handsomest and best-appointed theatre in the kingdom. -Bouquets of unusual brilliancy and dimensions were laid in -position, clearly not brought for the enjoyment of the owners. -The entertainment consisted of the stock piece of ‘The Bells.’ -Mr. Toole performed Mr. Hollingshead’s farce, ‘The Birthplace -of Podgers,’ a happy subject, which shows that the -“germ” of the æsthete “business” existed twenty years ago. -The feature of the night was the well-known scene from ‘The -Hunchback,’ in which Modus is so pleasantly drawn into -making a declaration. Sheridan Knowles is often ridiculed -for his sham Elizabethan situations; yet it may be doubted if -any living writer could treat this incident with such freshness -or so naturally. It is a piece of good, wearing stuff, and will -wear even better. When the scene drew up, the handsome -curtains, festooned in rich and abundant folds, revealed a new -effect, throwing out, by contrast, the pale greenish-tinted scene, -and heightening the light so that the two figures were projected -on this mellow background with wonderful brilliancy. Miss -Terry’s performance was full of animation and piquancy. Most -remarkable, indeed, was the new store of unexpected attitudes -and graces revealed at every moment—pretty stoopings, windings, -sudden half turns, inviting “rallyings”—so that even a -Modus more insensible to her advances must have succumbed. -But in truth this wonderful creature “adorns all she touches.” -It is clear that there is a Jordan-like vein of comedy in her yet -to be worked. Irving’s Modus was full of a quaint earnestness, -and his air of helplessness in the hands of such a mistress -was well maintained. Modus is generally made to hover on -the verge of oafishness, so as to make it surprising that there -should be any object in gaining such a being. Irving<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span> -imparted a suitable air to it, and lifted the character into pure -comedy.</p> - -<p>At the end came the expected speech, delivered with a -pleasant familiarity, and dwelling on past successes and future -plans. As in the case of another Premier, announcement was -made of “improvement for tenants” in the pit and boxes, who -were to have more room—to be “rooted,” if not to the soil, in -their places at least. It was a pleasant and remarkable season -to look back upon: the enchanting ‘Cup,’ which lingers like -a dream, or lotus-eating fancy; the ‘Corsican Brothers,’ so -sumptuously mounted; the splendid ‘Othello,’ the meeting of -the American and the English actor on the same stage, and -their strangely opposed readings of the same characters.</p> - -<p>The performance of ‘The Belle’s Stratagem,’ which supplemented -the attraction of ‘Othello,’ was interesting, as it -introduced once more to active life that excellent and sound -old actor, Henry Howe, who is now perhaps the only link with -the generation of the great actors. It was a graceful and -thoughtful act of Irving’s to seek out the veteran and attach -him to his company. During the decade of years that have -since elapsed, he has always treated him with a kindly and -courteous consideration. Everyone who knows Mr. Howe—and -everyone who does is glad to be counted among his -friends—can testify to his kindly and loveable qualities. He has -not the least particle of that testy discontent which too often -distinguishes the veteran actor, who extols the past and is discontented -with the present, because it is discontented with him, -or thinks that he lags superfluous on the stage. As we have -talked with him of a summer’s afternoon, in his little retreat -at Isleworth, the image of many a pleasant hour in the old -Haymarket days has risen up with his presence. It is always -pleasant to encounter his honest face in the Strand, where he -lives, as he is hurrying to his work.<a id="FNanchor_28" href="#Footnote_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span></p> - -<p>In January, 1882, our manager revived a piece in which he -had achieved one of his earliest triumphs—‘The Two Roses.’ -Miss Terry was at this time busily preparing for what was to be -her great effort, in Juliet, and this interruption to her labours -was judicious policy on the manager’s part. Much had -occurred during the long interval of twelve years since the play -had been first performed, but many still recalled with enjoyment -Irving’s masterly creation. When he was casting the -characters for the piece, he had counted on the original Caleb -Decie—Thorne—who held the traditions of the play. Owing -to some sudden change—I think to his entering on management—this -arrangement had to be given up, and the manager -was somewhat perplexed as to who he could find to fill the -character. He happened to be in Glasgow at this time, when -the local manager said to him, “There is a young fellow here -who, I think, would exactly suit you; he is intelligent, hard -working, and anxious to get on. His name is Alexander.” -Irving accepted the advice, and secured an actor who was of -his own school, of well-defined instincts and a certain elegance, -and exactly suited to be <i lang="fr">jeune premier</i> of the Lyceum. It may -be conceived with what delight, as he himself has told me, this -unexpected opening was received by the then obscure youth; -and at a pleasant supper the new engagement was ratified. -At this moment the young Glasgow candidate is the prosperous -manager of the St. James’s Theatre, a position which a dozen -years of conscientious work has placed him in. Far more -rough and thorny was the path along which Irving had to toil, -during a score of years, before he found himself at the head of -a theatre. But in these <i lang="fr">fin de siècle</i> times, the days and hours -have doubled their value.</p> - -<p>The piece was well mounted and well played, and there was -much interest felt in comparing the new cast with the old. In<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span> -a pleasant, half-sad meditation, my friend Mr. Clement Scott -called up some of the old memories; the tyrant Death, he -said, had played sad havoc with the original companies that did -so much for this English comedy. “Far away, leagues from -home, across the Atlantic sleep both Harry Montague and -Amy Fawcitt. We may associate them still with Jack Wyatt -and Lottie—who seemed the very boy and girl lovers that such -a theme required—so bright and manly and noble, so tender, -young, and handsome.” David James, as I have said, had -taken the place of the oleaginous Honey, and for those who -had not seen the latter, was an admirable representative of the -part. The “Roses” were Miss Helen Mathews and Miss -Emery.</p> - -<p>The manager, in his old part, received universal praise from -the entire circle of critics. Some considered it his most perfect -creation, and likened it to Got’s ‘Duc Job’ and Regnier’s -‘Annibal.’ It was certainly a most finished and original performance; -but it must be confessed that the larger stage and -larger house had its effect, and tempted the actor into laying -greater emphasis on details of the character. An actor cannot -stand still, as it were. Repetition for a hundred nights is one -of the vices of the modern stage, and leads to artificiality. -Under the old <i lang="fr">répertoire</i> system, when a piece was given for a -few nights, then suspended to be resumed after an interval, the -actor came to his part with a certain freshness and feeling of -novelty.</p> - -<p>At the same time, it should be said that the play itself was -accountable for this loss of effect. It was of but an ephemeral -sort, and belonged to an old school which had passed away. -Other players besides Irving, conscious of this weakness, have -felt themselves constrained to supplement it by these broad -touchings. The average “play of commerce” is but the inspiration -of the moment, and engendered by it—authors, -manager, actors, audience all join, as it were, in the composition. -Every portion, therefore, reflects the tone of the time. -But after a number of years this tone becomes lost or forgotten; -the fashions of feeling and emotion, both off as well as on the -stage, also pass away.</p> - -<p>When closing his season and making the important announcement -of the selection of ‘Romeo and Juliet’ for the new one, -the manager, as we have seen, had promised some alterations -and improvements in the theatre. These were duly carried -out, and not only added to the comfort of the audience, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span> -also to the profits of the management. The corridor at the -back of the dress-circle was taken in and supplied some sixty -or seventy new seats; while below, on the pit floor, place was -found for some two hundred additional persons, by including -the saloon. Further, the arch of the gallery which impeded -the view was raised, padded seats were furnished for the pit, -and the manager was willing even to supply “backs,” an unusual -luxury, to the seats in the gallery; but the Chamberlain -interposed, on the ground that in any panic or hurrying down -the steep ascent, these might be found an obstruction. Other -alterations were made in the exits and entrances—though -these were merely in the nature of makeshifts. But the -manager was not content until, many years later, he had purchased -the adjoining house and thoroughly remodelled the -whole.<a id="FNanchor_29" href="#Footnote_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a></p> - -<p>The manager, in the interval, took his company on a provincial -tour to the leading towns. At Glasgow it was announced -to be “the greatest engagement ever witnessed in that city.” -As he told his audience on the last night, the receipts for the -twelve nights amounted to over £4,000—an average of £334 -per night. But the extraordinary “drawing” power of our -actor was never exhibited more signally than during the engagement -at Edinburgh, at Mr. Howard’s Theatre, which produced -results that were really unprecedented. On his last appearance -Irving told the audience that “this engagement—and you must -not take it for egotism—has been the most remarkable one -played for any twelve nights in any theatre, I should think, in -Great Britain, certainly out of London, and there are some -large theatres in London. I may tell you that there has<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span> -been taken during the engagement here £4,300, which is -certainly the largest sum ever had before in any theatre during -the space of time, and I believe it is perfectly unprecedented -in any city.” This was a tribute to his attraction. On his -departure a gold repeater watch was presented to him.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1882.<br /> -‘ROMEO AND JULIET’—THE BANQUET.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>By March 8, 1882, the great revival of ‘Romeo and Juliet’ was -ready. For this performance the manager drew upon all the -resources of his taste, purse, study, and experience. The -fascinating play, indeed, offered opportunities for adornment -only too tempting. Those glittering, bewitching pictures still -linger in the memory of the playgoer, though more than ten -years have elapsed since the opening night “Among the -restorations will be found that of Romeo’s unrequited love for -Rosaline, omitted, among other things, in Garrick’s version.”</p> - -<p>Those who came away from the Lyceum on that opening -night must have had a sense almost of bewilderment, so rich -and dazzling were the scenes of light and colour that had for -hours passed before their eyes. According to the true illusive -principle in use on this stage, the lights are lowered as every -scene is about to change, by which a sense of mystery is produced, -and the prosaic mechanism of the movement is shrouded. -Hence, a sort of richness of effect and surprise as the gloom -passes away and a gorgeous scene steeped in effulgence and -colour is revealed. It would take long to detail the beautiful -views, streets, palaces, chambers, dresses, groupings, that were -set before the audience, all devised with an extraordinary -originality and fertility of resource; though this was the third -of these Italian revivals. When it is considered that there -were twenty-two scenes, and that most of these were “sets,” it -is amazing with what rapidity and smoothness the changes -were contrived. Not the least pleasurable part of the whole -was the romantic music, written in a flowing, tender strain by -Sir Julius Benedict, full of a juvenile freedom and spirit, -thoroughly Italian in character, and having something of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span> -grace and character of Schubert’s ‘Rosamunde.’ In the exquisite -garden, with its depth of silvered trees glistening in the moonlight, -viewed from a terrace, the arrangement of the balcony -was the only successful solution seen as yet. It has always -been forgotten that Juliet has to act—is, as it were, “on the -stage”—and should not be perched in a little wobbling cage. -Here it was made a sort of solid loggia, as much a part of the -stage as that upon which her lover was standing. I fancy this -was the scenic triumph of the night.</p> - -<p>When it is considered that Romeo and Juliet are characters -almost impossible to perform so as to reach the Shakespearian -ideal, it becomes easier to “liberate one’s mind” on the subject -of the performance of the two leading characters. The chief -objection was that they scarcely presented the ideal of superabundant -youth—boyish and girlish—required by the play. I -have always thought this a point to be but little insisted upon; -it is much the same as with strictness of costume, which is -overpowered, as it were, by the acting. It is the <em>acting</em> of youth, -not the appearance of youth, that is required; and a case is -conceivable where all the flush of youth with its physical accompaniments -may be present in perfection, and yet from failure -of the acting the idea of maturity and age may be conveyed.<a id="FNanchor_30" href="#Footnote_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> -In the dramatic ballroom scene, when he was moving about -arrayed as a pilgrim, the unbecoming dress and rather too -swarthy features seemed to convey the presentment of a person -in the prime of life. The critics spoke freely in this sense.</p> - -<p>In the latter, more tragic portion of the play, the very intensity<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span> -of the emotion seemed to add maturity and depth to -the character of Romeo. Nothing could better supply the -notion of impending destiny, of gathering gloom, than the -view of the dismal heart-chilling street, the scene of the visit -to the apothecary. Our actor’s picturesque sense was shown -in his almost perfect conception of this situation. The forlorn -look of the houses, the general desolation, the stormy grandeur -in keeping with the surroundings, the properly subdued grotesqueness -of the seller of simples (it was the grotesqueness of -<em>misery</em> that was conveyed), filled the heart with a sadness that -was almost real. In Miss Terry’s case there was a division of -opinions, some thinking her performance all but perfect, others -noting the absence of “girlishness.” All agreed as to its -engaging character and its winning charm. Terriss was the -Mercutio, which he gave with his favourite blunt impetuosity. -But one of the most perfectly played characters was Mrs. -Stirling’s Nurse. This accomplished woman represented all -the best traditions—high training, admirable elocution, with -the art of giving due weight and breadth to every utterance. -And yet—here was a curious phenomenon—the very excellence -of the delineation disturbed the balance of the play. The -Nurse became almost as important as the leading performers, -but not from any fault of the actress. She but followed the -due course. This is a blemish which is found in many exhibitions -of Shakespearian plays, where the inferior actor works -up his Dogberry, or his Gravedigger, or his Jacques to the very -fullest extent of which they are capable. But there should be -subordination; these are merely humours exhibited <i lang="fr">en passant</i>. -With an actress of Mrs. Stirling’s powers and rank, the manager -no doubt felt too much delicacy to interfere; nor would perhaps -the audience have placidly accepted any effacing of her part. -But as it was, the figure of this humble retainer became unduly -prominent.<a id="FNanchor_31" href="#Footnote_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a></p> - -<p>‘Romeo and Juliet’ was witnessed one night by the impetuous -Sarah Bernhardt, who afterwards came behind the -scenes to congratulate the performers. “How can you act in -this way every night?” she exclaimed to Ellen Terry. The -latter, in her simple, natural way, explained: “It is the audience—they -inspire me!”</p> - -<p>Such was this refined, elegant, and truly brilliant spectacle,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span> -which, as usual, furnished “talk for the town,” and stirred its -interest. The hundredth night of performance was celebrated -by a banquet on the stage, on Sunday night, June 25, 1882. -Here assembled critics, dramatists, artists, <i lang="it">e tutti quanti</i>; there -were many admirers, friends, and sympathizers present, some -of whom have since passed away—Sir W. Hardman, Dr. Cox, -Laman Blanchard, Palgrave Simpson, and many more. There -is a sadness in thinking of these disappearances.</p> - -<p>Among the guests at the banquet was Mr. Abbey, the -American manager, well known for his many daring and very -successful <i lang="fr">coups</i> in management. In the course of the night -there were some rumours circulated as to the motives of his -presence in town; but an allusion in Irving’s speech, when he -said pointedly that he hoped next year to have good experience -of the cordiality of American audiences, set the matter at rest. -This scheme had long been in his thoughts; and, indeed, -already many invitations and proposals had been made to him -to visit the United States. There was something dazzling and -fascinating in this prospect of going forth to conquer a new -great kingdom and new audiences. There was the chance, -too, of riches “beyond the dreams of avarice.” No wonder, -then, that the scheme began to take shape, and was presently -to be decided upon.</p> - -<p>After one hundred and thirty nights’ performance of ‘Romeo -and Juliet,’ the season was brought to a close, the manager -taking “a benefit” on his last night. Some ungracious folk -object to this old-established form of compliment, but he -defended it in a very modest and judicious way.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1882.<br /> -‘MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING’—AMERICAN VISIT ARRANGED.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>In his speech at the close of the season, the manager announced -the new piece selected for the next season. With that judicious -view to contrast or relief which directed all his efforts, he had -settled on a true comedy—the effective ‘Much Ado About -Nothing.’ To this piece many had long since pointed as being -exactly adapted to the special gifts of the two performers.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span> -Here was the fourth Shakespearian play of an Italian complexion -and atmosphere, which entailed accordingly a fresh -exhibition of Italian streets, manners, and costumes. A happy -impression was produced by the very note of preparation, the -air was filled with the breath of the coming piece; all felt, in -anticipation, the agreeable humours and fancies of Benedick -and his Beatrice. This feeling of comedy, it may be said, is -ever a delightful one; it spreads abroad a placid, quiet enjoyment -and good-humour with which nothing else can compare.</p> - -<p>On Wednesday, October 11, 1882, the delightful piece was -brought out. From the excellent acting of the two principal -performers, and the beautiful “setting” of the whole, it was -destined to become one of the most popular and acceptable of -the Lyceum <i lang="fr">répertoire</i>. By a curious delusion, owing no doubt -to the recollection of the lavish splendours of ‘Romeo and -Juliet,’ some critics pronounced that it had been brought out -with but a moderate display of scenic resources. The truth -was that the play had been “mounted” with as much state as -it would properly bear. Some scenes were equipped in an unusually -lavish and superb style. The general effect, however, -was harmonious; indeed, the happy tact of the manager was -never displayed to such advantage as in seizing on what might -be termed the proper key of the piece. When we recall, with -a pleasant enjoyment, these various Lyceum spectacles, we find -that there is no confusion of one with the other, that each has -a special, distinct note, and thus is started a train of impressions, -delightful for their variety, which enrich the chambers of -the memory.</p> - -<p>There was one scene which, for its splendour and originality, -was to be talked of for many a day, viz., the beautiful interior -of a church at Messina—the “Church Scene,” as it was called. -The art displayed here, the combination of “built-up” scenery -with “cloths,” the rich harmonious tintings, the ecclesiastical -details, the metal-work, altars, etc., made an exquisite picture.<a id="FNanchor_32" href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> -The well-known passage of the interrupted bridal was “laid -out” with extraordinary picturesqueness, much emphasis being -given to the religious rites. It was felt, however, that the -genuflections before the altar were introducing rather too awful -a suggestion, though the intention was, no doubt, reverent. It -must be admitted by all whose memories wander back to that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span> -performance, that the vision of this “Church Scene” rises -before them with an almost pathetic significance, owing in -some part to the touching, sympathetic acting of Miss Millward. -By this emphasizing of the state and publicity of the scene, the -crowds and rich dresses and ecclesiastical robes, the “distressful” -character of such a trial for a young bride was brought -out in a very striking way.</p> - -<p>All eyes, as it may be conceived, were drawn to the figures -of Benedick and Beatrice, as portrayed by Irving and Ellen -Terry. Their scenes were followed with a delighted interest, -and their gay encounters of wit and flirtation gave unalloyed -pleasure. Irving threw a Malvolian gravity over the character, -alternated by a certain jocoseness.</p> - -<p>These two characters, Benedick and Beatrice, are so much -the heritage of all lovers of true comedy, that everyone seems -to have fixed a standard for himself, which he will critically -apply to every representation. This partiality does not make -us particularly <i lang="fr">exigeant</i>, but we have each our own fancies. -There is nothing more interesting, entertaining, or fruitful in -speculation than the discussion of how favourite characters in -comedy should be represented. It is as though they were -figures in real life. For myself, I confess I should have preferred -that the actor had taken the character into still higher -realms of airy comedy, and had less emphasized the somewhat -farcical passages. Benedick was a man of capacity, a soldier, -a gentleman, and though he was likely to be so imposed upon, -he would not have given his friends the satisfaction of seeing -him in this dejected condition, almost inviting laughter and -rude “rallying.”<a id="FNanchor_33" href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a></p> - -<p>During all this time, preparations for the great American -visit were being carefully matured. There is supposed to be a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span> -sort of hostility between artistic gifts and business-like habits; -but Irving has always shown great capacity where organization -and arrangement are in question—he has the clearest vision, -and the firmest, most decided purpose. In this he has often -suggested a surprising likeness to the departed novelist Dickens, -who was also remarkable for his business power and decision -of character, and whose motto it was to do every trifle in the -best way that it could be done. Anything worth doing at all, -he would say, was worth doing well.</p> - -<p>Nothing was left undone to ensure success. Everything was -“thought out” beforehand with the greatest care and deliberation. -The American manager, Abbey, who had undertaken -the direction of the venture, and had a vast store of -experience and skill at command, planned, of course, the -arrangements of the visit; but the purely theatrical details -were thrown upon the English actor, who had to equip completely -some dozen plays with scenery, dresses, and properties. -A following of from seventy to a hundred persons—including -actors, actresses, secretaries, scenic and music artists, -dressers, supernumeraries—was to be taken out.<a id="FNanchor_34" href="#Footnote_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a> Further, -with a view to making the company thoroughly familiar with -the <i lang="fr">répertoire</i>, for months beforehand a sort of continuous rehearsal -went on before the regular Lyceum audiences; that is, -all the stock-pieces were revived one after the other, and performed -with much care.</p> - -<p>The honours and flattering tributes that were now lavished -on the departing actor would have turned the head of one less -sensible or less unspoiled. The town seemed really to have -“run horn-mad” after him, and could talk of nothing but of him -and his expedition. As was to be expected, the compliment -of a public dinner was the smallest of these tributes. Presents -and invitations were lavished upon him. In a caricature he -was shown as being profusely anointed, by critics and others, -from a tub filled with a composition labelled “butter.” In -another the Prince of Wales is obsequiously presenting an -invitation, which the actor excuses himself from accepting -owing to “my many engagements.” The most famous portrait-painter<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span> -of the day begged to be allowed to paint his picture, -which he wished to offer as a present to the Garrick Club.<a id="FNanchor_35" href="#Footnote_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a> -Rumours were busily circulated—and contradicted—that a -knighthood had been offered and declined.</p> - -<p>The public dinner at St. James’s Hall was fixed for July 4—a -compliment to the American people. The list of stewards -was truly extraordinary, comprising almost everyone of mark -in the arts and the great professions. The Chief Justice, -Lord Coleridge, who was himself setting out for a tour in the -States, was to take the chair. Mr. Gladstone and some -Cabinet Ministers were on the committee. There were three -thousand applicants for the five hundred possible seats, all that -Mr. Pinches, the secretary—a relation of the actor’s old master—could -contrive to supply. Two Bishops excused their -attendance in flattering terms; and Mr. Gladstone would -gladly have attended, but was compelled by his duties to be -absent.<a id="FNanchor_36" href="#Footnote_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a> At this banquet, besides the Chief Justice and the -Lord Chancellor of Ireland, there were five other judges -present, together with all that was distinguished in the professions -and arts.</p> - -<p>The Chairman, in a thoughtful and studied speech, delivered -perhaps one of the best <i lang="la">apologias</i> for the actor that is ever -likely to be offered. The skill and moderation of the accomplished -advocate was shown to perfection: he did not adulate, -but gave the actor a graduated and judicious measure of praise -for all he had done in the improvement in the general tone, -morals, and methods of the stage. Irving acknowledged these -compliments in grateful and heartfelt terms, addressed not so -much to the diners present as to the kingdom in general.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span></p> - -<p>After these metropolitan honours, he passed to Edinburgh, -Glasgow, and Liverpool. At each city he was greeted with -complimentary banquets. At Edinburgh he opened a new -theatre, named in compliment to his own, the Lyceum. He -was invited to Hawarden by Mr. Gladstone, and also to -Knowsley, on a visit to Lord Derby.</p> - -<p>On October 10, 1883, the chief members of the company—over -forty in number—sailed for New York, under the conduct -of Mr. Bram Stoker. Tons of scenery, dresses, properties, etc., -had been already shipped. The following day Irving and Miss -Terry embarked on board the White Star liner, <i>The Britannic</i>. -Up to the last moment telegrams and letters containing good -wishes literally by hundreds were being brought in. Even -while the vessel was detained at Queenstown, the Mayor and -Corporation of Cork seized the opportunity of saluting him -with a parting address. The incidents have been all described -by my friend Mr. Joseph Hatton, who attended the party as -“historiographer”; and I may refer the reader to his interesting -volumes.</p> - -<p>The visit was to prove one long triumph, and the six months’ -progress a strange, wonderful phantasmagoria of receptions, -entertainments, hospitalities of all kinds. Novel and original, -too, were the humours and fashions that greeted them everywhere, -and the eyes of the two players must have often turned -back with pleasure to that odd pantomime.</p> - -<p>‘The Bells’ was selected for the opening performance -which was on October 29, 1883. Though his reception was -overpowering and tumultuous, there was some hesitation as to -the success of the play itself, and the critics seemed to be a -little doubtful as to whether it fairly represented the full -measure of his gifts. ‘Charles I.’, however, followed, and the -two great artists made the profoundest impression. But when -‘Louis XI.’ and ‘Much Ado About Nothing’ were presented, -all doubts vanished. Miss Terry won all hearts; her sympathetic -style and winsome ways made conquest of every -audience. Nothing struck the Americans with such astonishment -as the exquisite arrangement and “stage management” -of the Shakespearian comedy, the reserved yet effectively -harmonious treatment of all the details being a complete -revelation. The actor’s consummate taste was recognised; in -fact, the result of the visit was a complete revolution in all the -American stage methods. The extraordinary record of lavish -hospitalities, tributes of all kinds, with the adventures, is set<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span> -forth fully in the story of the tour. But it is only by consulting -the American journals that we can gather a notion of -the odd “humours,” often grotesque, by which the American -public displays its enthusiastic approbation.<a id="FNanchor_37" href="#Footnote_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a> The “interviewers,” -as may be imagined, were rampant, and extracted -from the genial and courteous actor opinions on everything -connected with his profession. One immortal criticism -deserves to be recorded here. “He has rung,” said a newspaper, -“<em>the knell of gibbering</em> <span class="smcap">Gosh</span>!”<a id="FNanchor_38" href="#Footnote_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a></p> - -<p>The party remained in the country until the May of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span> -year following. The receipts exceeded every forecast, a -quarter of a million dollars having been taken in the first four -weeks. But the expenses were enormous. The substantial -profit was found in Irving’s securing a new, vast, and prominent -audience in the West; in his winning the suffrages of -Americans abroad as well as of those at home, who became -his most fervent adherents.</p> - -<p>The following is an amusing scene. Irving had been invited to -the Journalists’ Club, and after the close of the performance of -‘Louis XI.,’ the actor had come round to the club, where he -partook of a supper tendered to him by a few members in -a private room. He had been in the building three-quarters -of an hour before he made known his presence by coming -upstairs, escorted by several gentlemen. The guest of the -evening then held an informal reception.</p> - -<p>“After he had said something pleasant to almost everyone, he -volunteered to do his share towards entertaining those present. -It had been slightly hinted to him that something of the kind -was looked for, and he entered into the spirit of the occasion. -Then the great tragedian turned from the serious to the comic. -He recited, in a way that provoked roars of laughter, the funny -little poem, ‘Tommy’s First Love.’</p> - -<p>“When this was over there was a unanimous shout, which -lasted several minutes. It was a loud cry for more. Mr. Irving -expressed his willingness to give another recitation, and called -for a chair. After sitting down he observed that, as all were -standing, those in the rear could see but indifferently. -‘Suppose we change the stage management,’ he suggested. -‘Can’t we all sit down?’ This was received with some merriment, -as there were few chairs in the room. Someone, however, -saw Mr. Irving’s idea that those in the front ranks should -sit upon the floor, and in a moment the four foremost lines -were kneeling upon the carpet.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Irving then recited ‘Eugene Aram’s Dream.’ The -splendid elocutionary talents of the actor kept the audience -spellbound. Every emotion, every pang of the schoolmaster -was vividly depicted by the expressive face of the tragedian. -The scene was a remarkable one. Mr. Irving threw himself so -earnestly into the character that at one time <em>he tore the white -necktie from his throat</em> without realizing what he was doing, -and, as his features were wrought up to show the usher’s agony, -similar lines seemed to show themselves by sympathy in the -faces of those present. At the close of the recitation the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span> -motionless figures, some standing, some sitting with crossed -legs upon the floor, became moving, enthusiastic men. Those -on their feet threw their arms into the air and cheered as if for -dear life, while those on the floor bounded up simultaneously -and expressed their enthusiasm. It was some time before the -excitement subsided.</p> - -<p>“I recited that once to a friend of mine,” said Mr. Irving, -after quiet had been restored, “and what do you think he -said? Why, he seriously exclaimed: ‘There is one point in -that story that I’d like to know about. <em>What became of the -boy?</em>’” This anecdote produced a chorus of laughter. After -shaking hands all round, Mr. Irving went downstairs and out, -accompanied by the club’s officers. Before he left the room, -“Three cheers for Mr. Irving” were called for and given by -throats already hoarse with applauding him.</p> - -<p>A second American expedition followed in the September of -the same year, during which a visit was paid to Canada.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1884.<br /> -‘TWELFTH NIGHT’—‘THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD’—OXFORD -HONOURS.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>On July 8, 1884, a few weeks after the return to London, -‘Twelfth Night’ was brought out at the Lyceum, and, for -luxury of scenery, dresses, and mounting, fully equalled all its -predecessors. Irving was, of course, the Malvolio, which he -rendered not exactly after Charles Lamb’s interpretation, but, -indeed, as anyone of Shakespearian intelligence would have -done, never lapsing into farce, but treating the whole earnestly. -It was a beautiful and graceful show, full of alternate sympathy -and humour. Personally we look back to it as one of the most -welcome and interesting of his revivals; all the incidents connected -with Viola, so charmingly interpreted by Ellen Terry, -have an irresistible and touching interest. The scenery was -costly and exquisite, and reflected the tone of the piece. The -audience, however, listened with a somewhat languid interest—some -said because of the oppressive heat of a July night,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span> -which fretted and put them out of humour; but I believe -because they were unfamiliar with the piece, and had not been -“educated up to it.” When the manager came out at the -close, with all the good-humour and freedom of a privileged -favourite, he was confounded to find his expressions of self-congratulation -and satisfaction greeted with uncouth denial and -rude interruptions. He was not accustomed to such coarse -reception, and with much spirit he administered this well-deserved -chastisement: “I can’t understand how a company -of earnest comedians and admirable actors, having these three -cardinal virtues of actors—being sober, clean, and perfect—and -having exercised their abilities on one of the most difficult -plays, can have given any cause for dissatisfaction.” But there -are curious idiosyncrasies in audiences, one of which is, as I -have noted, that they must be in some way familiar with the -piece and its incidents; and there must be broad, comprehensive -types of character. Now Malvolio, one of the most -delicately exquisite of conceptions, it could be seen, was almost -unintelligible to “the general”: they took him for some -“crank,” or half-cracked being, appearing in his nightcap, etc. -Sir Toby and Sir Andrew and their rollickings were actually -thought “low” or vulgar, on the same principle that Tony -Lumpkin’s alehouse friend could not abide anything low. So -much for the ignorant, ill-mannered section of the audience.</p> - -<p>It was argued, indeed, by critics that Irving’s Malvolio was -somewhat <em>too</em> much in earnest, and therefore was liable to be -accepted by the audience as a serious person, actually in love -with his mistress, which with his eccentricities and oddities -became an impertinence. Whereas, as Lamb says, by imparting -a quaint humorousness, the audience sees the absurdity of -the jest and is amused. Elia, indeed, always insists that the -actor of such “fantastical” parts should hint to the audience, -slyly, as it were, that he is only half in earnest.</p> - -<p>A most delightful sense of pure natural comedy was induced -by the likeness between the Terrys, brother and sister, who -had a sort of Shakespearian elegance in their bearing. But -this did not avail much with the uncultured crowd. It was -objected also that the play was set forth somewhat pedantically -and too much <i lang="fr">au grand sérieux</i>, many of the actors, not being -comedians—witness Mr. Terriss—imparting a literal tone to all -they said and did. This was not without its effect on the -audience, who by the very promise of seriousness were beguiled -into expecting something serious. Irving himself was not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span> -wholly free from this method; and in the strange scene of the -imprisonment, so difficult to “carry off,” he was deeply tragic, -as if really suffering, and without any underlying grotesqueness. -His exit, too, with solemn menaces, had the air of retributive -punishment in store.</p> - -<p>Now followed a second expedition to the States, as well as -to Canada, the details of which I pass over. On the reopening -of his theatre on his return a rather disagreeable episode -occurred, connected with an alteration he had made in the -arrangement of his house. It was announced that places in -the pit might be reserved and secured in advance, which gave -rise to indignant protest and to cries of “<em>Give us back our Pit</em>.” -The question was warmly discussed in the newspapers.</p> - -<p>The advantage of the debate was that it clearly established -a true theatrical principle—viz., that the pit and galleries are -intended for the crowd, and should be free and open to the -“man in the street”: that the best seats here must be the -prize of the strongest and most patient. The principle of -numbering and booking, it was shown, would actually abolish -the pit. The judicious manager understood and recognised -the public discontent, and made announcement that on -May 18 he would restore the old custom.</p> - -<p>In accordance with his engagement, the manager now proceeded -to get ready Wills’s pleasing and sympathetic drama, -‘Olivia.’ This was no doubt selected with a view to furnishing -a fresh opportunity for the display of Miss Terry’s attractions; -but it will be seen that she was not to be altogether the -cynosure of the whole, and that two other accomplished performers -were to share the honours of the piece. It was produced -on May 27, 1885, and excited much interest. The -creation of Dr. Primrose is one of the most interesting and -most original of Irving’s characters. It is elaborated and -finished to the very highest point, and yet there is no lack of -simplicity or unaffected grace. The character suited him in -every way, and seemed to hold completely in check all his little -“mannerisms,” as they are called. There was a sort of -Meissonnier delicacy in his touches, and scarcely any other of -his characters is so filled in and rounded with unspoken acting—that -is, by the play of facial expression, gesture, walk, etc. -It is, indeed, a delightful performance, and always holds the -audience, which attentively follows the Vicar’s successive emotions. -These the actor allows unconsciously, as it were, to escape -him, as he pursues his little domestic course unconscious of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span> -spectators. One reason for this complete success was, of -course, that Irving, like so many others, had read, known, and -felt this engaging character from his childhood, altogether -outside dramatic conditions, though of course it is not every -play that enjoys this advantage.</p> - -<p>As we look back to the Lyceum, the eye rests with infinite -pleasure on the engaging figure of the Vicar, with his powdered -wig and rusted suit, and that amiable smile of simplicity which -betokened what agreeable fancies were occupying his mind. -There he was, the centre of a happy family, content with the -happiness of his wife and children. No picture could have -been prettier. With an exquisite feeling of propriety, the -quaint, antique associations were developed, and no more -pleasing scene could have been conceived, or one that lingers -more in the memory, than the scene at night, when the family -are singing at the spinet, Moses accompanying with his flute,<a id="FNanchor_39" href="#Footnote_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a> -the Vicar in his chair, the cuckoo-clock in the corner. It was -a fine instinct that directed these things.</p> - -<p>It should be added that the piece had been somewhat -altered from its first shape, and no doubt gained from the -manager’s suggestions. One of the most astonishing things -connected with it is the admirably firm and coherent construction, -it being laid out in the most effective way. Its various -characters are introduced with singular skill. The last act -seemed, indeed, somewhat superfluous and too much drawn out; -but the whole design was really admirable. Yet its adapter -was admittedly deficient in the arts of construction, and most -of his other pieces display singular and even ludicrous incoherencies. -It might be that he had received assistance in -this individual case, or had been so inspired by the subject as -to triumph over his own defects.</p> - -<p>Such tales as these—world-wide stories that belong to all -countries and to all time—Shakespearian, in short—seem on -repetition to have the air of novelty; at least, they always -interest. The situations are dramatic, and the characters even -more dramatic than the situations. Miss Terry’s Olivia is not -only one of her best characters, but is a most touchingly -graceful and varied performance. The gifted pair are indeed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span> -at their best here. In the excellently-contrived scene at the -Dragon, Miss Terry’s transition of horror, astonishment, rage, -shame, succeeding each other, were displayed with extraordinary -force and variety. Some insisted that the part -suffered from her restlessness, but, as it was happily said, “She -is for ever flickering about the stage in a series of <em>poses</em>, or -rather disturbance of <em>pose</em>, each in itself so charming that one -can hardly account for the distrust she herself shows of it by -instantly changing it for another.” The other characters were -no less excellent in their way. Terriss, as the Squire, was -admirably suited, his very defect—an excessively pronounced -brusqueness—adding to the effect. I recollect it was said at -the time in the theatre that there was only the one performer -for Thornhill, and that one Terriss. He—and he only—must -be secured. He never performed so well as in this character.</p> - -<p>A year later there occurred what must have been one of the -most gratifying incidents in the actor’s career, and one of the -most pleasant to recall. The Oxford commencements, held -on June 26, 1886, were more than usually brilliant. At that -time, the late learned and popular Dr. Jowett was Vice-Chancellor, -a man, as is well known, of the largest sympathies. -Though a divine, he took a deep interest in Irving and his -profession. On its being proposed to confer honorary degrees -on certain distinguished guests, including Mr. John Bright, the -Vice-Chancellor, it is said, suggested the name of the well-known -actor. There was something, as I say, dramatic or -characteristic in this proposal, coming as it did from so expressive -a personality. The University, however, was not prepared -to go so far as this, though the proposal was only negatived, -it is said, by a narrow majority of two votes. The vigorous -purpose of the Vice-Chancellor was not to be thus baffled, and -by a brilliant <i lang="fr">coup</i> he contrived that the very omission of the -actor’s name—like the absence of one portrait from a series—should -suggest that the chief performer had been “left” out, -and thus supplied a fresh element in the brilliancy of his -reception. He invited him to deliver a lecture on his art in -the very precincts of the University, and under the patronage -of its most distinguished professors and “Heads,” and it may -be conceived that the figure of the popular player became the -cynosure of attraction in the brilliant academic show.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“For when the well-grac’d actor quits the scene,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The eyes of men are idly bent on him that enters next.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span></p> - -<p>When it became known that the actor was to give his -address, everyone of note and culture and importance in the -place rushed to secure seats. Some fourteen hundred persons -were present, with most of “the Heads of Houses,” and distinguished -professors. Dr. Jowett welcomed him in some -warm and well-chosen phrases, telling him how much honoured -they felt by his coming to them. A good English actor, he -said happily enough, lived in the best company—that of Goethe -and Shakespeare; and coming from such, he might seem to -convey that he was good enough company for them.</p> - -<p>But during the year 1892 the University of Dublin was the -first to recognise officially the actor’s position, and at the celebration -of its tercentenary conferred on him the degree of -Doctor of Letters, in company with many distinguished men. -Indeed, Irving’s sympathetic temperament has always been -specially acceptable to this University, and the youths of -Trinity College from the beginning were eager to exhibit their -appreciation and admiration of his talent. They would attend -him home from the theatre in uproarious procession, and sing -songs in his praise in the galleries. So early as June, 1877, -he had given a reading in the University in its great Examination -Hall. The Provost, the Dean, and other “dons” all -attended. He gave ‘Richard III.,’ a chapter of ‘David -Copperfield,’ and ‘Eugene Aram.’ An illuminated address -was presented to him, and to make the day truly festive -and collegiate, the actor dined in the hall, the guest of the -college, and went his way covered with honours.</p> - -<p>Later came the turn of Edinburgh, where he was much considered, -and in 1881 delivered a lecture before the Edinburgh -Philosophical Institute. He gave, also, an interesting lecture on -acting at the Royal Institution in London. With pleasure, too, -must he look back to his welcome at Harvard University, in -the United States. The novelty of the scene, the warm welcome -accorded to him in a strange land, must have made a most -welcome form of honour. He delivered a lecture on the -“Art of Acting”—his favourite topic—in the great Sande’s -Theatre, into which over two thousand persons were crowded—the -usual audience was sixteen hundred. An enormous crowd -blocked the doors, so that the actor on his arrival could not -gain admittance, and had to be taken in by a subterranean -passage. The president was in a conspicuous place, and all -the professors and dons attended. Another American University, -that of Cambridge, also invited him to lecture (rather<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span> -to give instruction) before them, and the newspapers of the -country declared that the honours with which he was welcomed -were really “unprecedented.” Again he discoursed on the -“Art of Acting.” An even more flattering and unusual compliment -was the invitation to the Military Academy at West-point, -where, with his company, he performed ‘The Merchant -of Venice’ in Elizabethan dresses, but without scenery—to -the huge enjoyment of professors and students. Here is a -round of University distinctions that has never fallen to the -lot of any other actor. We may see in it an instinctive recognition -of a cultured and artistic feeling that has influenced the -community and done excellent educational service.</p> - -<p>Irving had long wished to display his sardonic power in -Goethe’s great character of Mephistopheles. He had already -given proof of his quality in this line in Louis XI. and -Richard III.; but there was a piquancy and range in Mephistopheles -which naturally offered him an attraction, from the -mixture of the comic or grotesque with deep tragic force. It -also offered room for a superb and almost unlimited display of -scenic magnificence. It was no secret, too, that in this particular -display he was resolved to surpass all his previous efforts.</p> - -<p>To Wills was entrusted the work of preparing the adaptation, -this writer having, as I said, a command of flowing and -melodious versification, which, moreover, was fitted to the -actor’s delivery. The adapter had completed his task many -years before, and the piece had long lain in the manager’s desk. -During this period he let his conception of the piece slowly -ripen; he discussed it with scholars; thought over it; while -the adapter, a German student himself, revised his work at -intervals according to the views of his chief. All this was -judicious enough. It was, however, destined to be the last -work that he was to prepare for his old friend and faithful -Lyceum patron. It must be said that the latest adapter was -not altogether well fitted for the task, as he was too much given -to descriptions and “recitations,” while Mephistopheles might -have been made far more of.</p> - -<p>The preparations made were of the most thorough kind. -For months the manager’s rooms were hung round with a profusion -of sketches by artists of all kinds, relics of Nuremberg -and the Goethe country, with old engravings of Albert Dürer, -and great folios of costumes. To permeate himself with something -of the tone and feeling of the piece, he travelled in -Germany, accompanied by his scene-painter, Mr. Craven.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span> -Both stayed at Nuremberg, where the artist imbued himself -with the whole poetry of the old city. Everyone of artistic -feeling will recall one truly romantic scene—a simple cloth set -very forward on the scene, perhaps to its disadvantage—a view -of the old city, with its dull red high roofs and quaintly-peaked -spires.</p> - -<p>During the preparations, the theatre, now some eighty years -old, had been redecorated afresh, but at the complete sacrifice -of the old Vestris adornments, the elegant medallions or -cameos, and the double-gilt pillars, which were thought to -interfere with the view. The outline of the dress-circle was -brought forward with some gain of space, and its graceful undulations -were abolished. For such changes no one can be -brought to account—the irresistible pressure of the time and -the laws of convenience bring them about. An entirely new -system of decoration was introduced, suggested by that of -Raffaelle’s Loggie at the Vatican, which seemed scarcely sober -enough for an auditorium. More structural changes were also -made in the interests of the galleries, of which the manager -has always shown himself careful.</p> - -<p>On December 19, 1886, the piece was produced. There -was the now invariable excitement of a Lyceum <i lang="fr">première</i>, and -there were stories of frantic efforts, grovellings, implorings, etc., -to obtain a seat. A peer had actually been seen in the gallery—and -was more than content with his place. The Royal Family -were in their box, and the Prince, then in mourning, watched -the play from behind the scenes. Mephistopheles was destined -for many a night to give the keenest enjoyment to vast audiences. -It was, indeed, a most original conception. With -successive performances he enriched it with innumerable -telling and grotesque touches; for, as I have said, the adapter -had “laid out” the character on rather conventional lines. In -spite of all these defects, he suggested the notion of “uncanniness” -and a supernatural <i lang="fr">diablerie</i>. His antic scaring of the -women at the church-door will be recalled by many. Miss -Terry’s Marguerite was full of pathos and poetry, occasionally -suggesting, as in the “Jewel” scene, the operatic heroine. -But at the first performance it became plain that a serious -mistake had been made in the choice of Conway for the hero, -Faust. He seemed scarcely to feel or understand the part; -there was a lack of passion and sympathy. It was, indeed, an -overwhelming burden for a player whose gifts lay in the direction -of light comedy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span></p> - -<p>But on one Saturday night the audience was somewhat -astonished to see before them a new Faust, one who, moreover, -came on with a book in his hand, which he continued to read -aloud even after Mephisto had paid him his visit through the -steam clouds. It proved that Conway was suffering from gout, -and Alexander, resigning his own character to Tyars, took the -<i lang="fr">rôle</i> of Faust, which on the following night he assumed permanently, -and “discharged” in the regular way. Considering -the shortness of the notice, he performed this awkward duty -<i lang="fr">en vrai artiste</i>—as, indeed, might be expected.<a id="FNanchor_40" href="#Footnote_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a> However, the -cast was further strengthened by the excellent Mrs. Stirling, -whose part was scarcely worthy of her. Placing a strong -performer in a part that is inferior in strength, instead of -improving or fortifying, only further brings out the poverty of -the character.</p> - -<p>In this piece numerous scientific devices were introduced to -add to the effect, such as the clouds of steam which veiled -the apparition of Mephistopheles, a device of French origin. -This is scarcely illusive, as it is attended by an unmistakable -“hissing” sound, as of a locomotive; it seems what it is—namely, -steam. The blue electric light flashed with weird -effect as the swords of Valentine and Faust crossed. But here -again there was an electric wire and “contact,” and a current -“switched on.” It may be paradoxical to say so, but these -“advances” in scenic art are really retrograde steps.</p> - -<p>Of the regular scenes or structures put on the stage, it would -be difficult to say too much. The grandly-built porch of the -Church of St. Lorentz Platz at Nuremberg, and the buildings -grouped round it, were extraordinary works of construction, -the porch being “moulded” in all its details, and of the real -or natural size. Another scene that lingers in the memory -with a sort of twilight melancholy is the garden scene, which -again illustrates the admirable instinct of the manager. Red-brick -walls of calm, quiet tones, old trees, and, above all, the -sombre towers of the city, were seen in the distance. The -dresses of the characters were chosen to harmonize, and the -deep sunset cast a melancholy glow or tinge over all. The most -striking effects were contrived by changes of the lights and -“mediums.”</p> - -<p>The Brocken scene, for its vastness and ambitious attempt -to suggest space and atmosphere, has never been surpassed.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span> -Most people were struck by the bewildering crowd of unearthly -spirits, witches, and demons, etc.; but the real marvel was the -simulation of the chill mountain atmosphere, the air of dizziness, -of mists that hover over vast crevasses and depths, and -make one shiver to look at. The designing, direction, and -controlling of the elements in this wonderful scene seemed a -bewildering and gigantic task.</p> - -<p>The vision of Angels in the last act seemed a little conventional. -There were many objections, too, taken mostly by -Germans, to the treatment of the great story, such as the fixing -of the scene at Nuremberg instead of at Leipsic, the placing -the drinking bout in the open air, and at the tavern door, -instead of in Auerbach’s cellar. These changes could not, of -course, be justified, save on the ground of theatrical expediency.</p> - -<p>For seven months, though ‘Faust’ continued to attract vast -houses, it had really, as the manager said, “only started on its -wild career.” On the occasion of Miss Terry’s benefit, he -made an interesting, half-jocular speech announcing his plans.</p> - -<p>The ninety-ninth night of ‘Faust’ was celebrated in a remarkable -and somewhat appropriate fashion. The venerable -Abbé Liszt was at this time in London, followed with an eager -curiosity, affecting even the “cabbies” with interest, who were -heard talking of the “Habby List.” No one who had seen -him at this time will forget the striking personality of this -interesting and brilliant man. He was induced to visit the -theatre, and to witness the performance. After the first act, -the orchestra broke into his own “Hungarian March,” and, -being presently recognised by the audience, the great virtuoso -received a perfect ovation. He followed the piece throughout -with singular interest, and applauded with enthusiasm. After -the play was over, he was welcomed at a supper in the old -Beef-steak dining-room, where there were invited to meet him -a few distinguished persons. His favourite dishes—“lentil -pudding, lamb cutlets, mushrooms in batter”—were prepared -for him by Gunter’s <i lang="fr">chef</i>. He was delighted with this delicate -hospitality. This is one of the many pleasant and dignified -memories associated with the Lyceum.</p> - -<p>It was when ‘Faust’ was being played that the catastrophe -of the burning of the French Opéra Comique occurred. This -excited general sympathy, and the kindly manager of the -Lyceum promised that when the proper time came he would -furnish assistance. In due course a performance of ‘Faust’ -was announced for the benefit of the sufferers, and a crowded<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span> -audience assembled. Everyone concerned—and they were -to be counted by hundreds—gave their services gratis—the -manager behaved in his own liberal style—and, as the result, -a sum of £419 was despatched to Paris. This liberality was -much appreciated by the French press. The <cite>Figaro</cite> devoted -an article to a review of the various characters played by the -English actor, and in flattering terms pointed out that, notwithstanding -all his detractors, Mr. Henry Irving was “the most -perfect gentleman.”</p> - -<p>During the performance of ‘Faust,’ Miss Terry found the -fatigue excessive, and, not being very strong at the time, had -to resign her part. During these intervals, the character was -supported by a clever young actress, bearing an historic name, -Miss Winifred Emery, who brought much intelligence and -refinement to her task. It was generally agreed that, considering -her resources, she had supplied the place of the absent -actress very well indeed. The <i lang="fr">feu sacré</i> was, of course, not to -be expected, and cannot be supplied to order.</p> - -<p>This appreciation of our manager-actor by the French will -naturally suggest the inquiry, What is his reputation generally -in that eminently theatrical country, whence we draw our chief -supply of dramas and dramatic ideas, and whose school of -acting is perhaps the first in Europe? So frequent have been -the visits of French companies to London, that nearly all the -leading performers have had opportunities of seeing the English -actor perform. Their ignorance of the language has, of course, -stood in the way of a satisfactory judgment—they cannot follow -the play as an average Englishman will follow a French piece; -but all have been struck by his fine faculty of imparting colour -and romance to a character, and have broken into raptures -over the intelligence that directs the scene, and the lavish -magnificence of the <em>spectacle</em>.</p> - -<p>The memorable visit of the French Comedy to London in -1879, and the fine series of performances in which every player -of note displayed his talent, curiously coincided with the new -departure on the English stage. Few will forget the deep impressions -left by that season or the opportunities afforded for a -liberal education in dramatic taste. With the company came -the <i lang="fr">fine fleur</i> of French critics, Sarcey, Claretie (since become -director of the company he had so often criticized), and others -of less note. These judges were glad to seize an opportunity, -which under other circumstances they would never have thought -of seeking, of visiting the Lyceum and witnessing the performances<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span> -of the most distinguished of English actors. I recall -Sarcey at this time, a coarsely-built man, with not very refined -features, lounging night after night into his stall, with an air of -something like arrogance. He did not relish his enforced -banishment from the Boulevards, and indemnified himself by -making rather free criticisms on the French players. He was -induced to go and see some of the English performances, but -with an amusing hauteur pleaded his ignorance of the language -as an excuse for not passing any serious judgment.</p> - -<p>“Having weighed the matter well, I have determined to say -very little regarding English actors. I have as yet seen but a -few, and those only through the medium of a language imperfectly -understood. I should be placing myself in a ridiculous -position if I had the impertinence to touch upon matters which -I am thus incompetent to deal with. I may remark, however, -that Mr. Henry Irving appeared to me a remarkable actor, notwithstanding -a wilful tendency to exaggeration. Possibly, in -this latter respect, he followed rather the taste of his audience, -whom his instinct judges, than his own deliberate choice.”</p> - -<p>To these brilliant and gifted strangers, however, the new -manager did the honours of his craft and extended to them a -kindly hospitality. Indeed, since that day, no distinguished -artist has visited these shores without being welcomed with rare -hospitality.<a id="FNanchor_41" href="#Footnote_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a></p> - -<p>The most accomplished of French comedians is Coquelin -<i lang="fr">ainé</i>, an extraordinary performer, from the versatility and even -classical character of his talents. This gifted man, who never -appears without imparting intellectual enjoyment of the highest<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span> -kind, seems to have always been attracted to the English actor, -though exhibiting his feelings in an oddly mixed fashion, compounded -of admiration and hostility. Analysis of the workings -of character is the most entertaining of pastimes, and is, of -course, the foundation of theatrical enjoyment; and the public -has much relished the controversies between two such eminent -personages. In 1886 Coquelin, during a supper at Mrs. -Mackay’s, was invited in a very flattering way by the Prince of -Wales to play in London under Mr. Mayer. At this time, in -obedience to the very natural “force and pressure” of gain -which was beginning to dissolve the great company of the -French Comedy, he had begun to “star it,” as it is called, in -the various capitals of Europe, and having found himself appreciated -in London at private houses, as well as on the stage, he -seems to have nourished a feeling that he was contending for -the suffrages of the public with the English actor! Not that -he was conscious of any actual “jealousy,” but something of -this impression was left on those who were watching the incident. -In matters of art, however, such contentions are healthy, and -pardonable enough.</p> - -<p>An early token of this curious feeling was offered in an article -published in <cite>Harper’s Magazine</cite> in May, 1887, where the -French actor discussed with some acuteness the different -systems of acting in England and in France, particularly in -the matter of what is called “natural” or materialistic acting. -He dwelt on the question how far the gifts of the comedian -will enable him to exhibit tragic characters, contending -that the practice of minute observation would materially aid -him.</p> - -<p>What was in Coquelin’s thoughts all this time would appear -to have been a sort of eagerness to measure himself with the -English actor in ‘Le Juif Polonais,’ which he looked upon as -his own, and which had made a reputation for Irving. With -some lack of taste or tact, Coquelin later challenged an English -audience to decide between the two readings of Mathias. He -performed it, I think, on two different occasions. It was an -interesting and instructive experiment, for it proved that two -artists of eminence might legitimately take directly opposite -views of the same character. But does not character in real -life offer the same varieties of interpretation? Coquelin presented -a sort of comfortable <i lang="fr">bourgeois</i>, a tradesman-like personage, -who was not likely to reach the heroic or melodramatic -place. He was not over-sensitive, nor was his remorse very<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span> -poignant; and the keynote to his agitation was the desire to -be thought respectable, to keep his position, and not be found -out. It was agreed that the two conceptions were altogether -opposed. “Irving’s hero was a grave, dignified, and melancholy -being; Coquelin’s was a stout Alsatian, well-to-do, respected -by his neighbours, but still on an equality with the -humble folk around him. Irving’s was a conscience-stricken -personage; Coquelin’s had no conscience at all. Irving’s was -all remorse; Coquelin was not in the least disturbed. He -takes delight in his ill-got treasures. The only side on which -he is assailable is that of his fears, and the arrival of the second -Jew, so like the first, terrifies him; and too much wine on the -night of the wedding brings on the disturbed dream.” The -question might be thus summarized: Irving’s reading was that -of a tragedian; Coquelin’s that of a comedian. For myself, I -confess a liking for both.</p> - -<p>A friendly and even enthusiastic appreciation of the actor -was furnished by Jules Claretie, then a critic of eminence. -“His reputation,” he said, “would be even greater than it is -if he had the leisure to extend his studies and correct his -faults; but, as Mr. Walter Pollock remarks, a man who has to -play six or seven times a week can hardly be expected to find -much time for study. England, unlike France, does not -possess a national theatre.</p> - -<p>“‘Richelieu’ was the first play in which I saw Mr. Irving -in London. Here he is superb. The performance amounts -to a resurrection. The great Cardinal, lean, worn, eaten up -with ambition, less for himself than for France, is admirably -rendered. His gait is jerky, like that of a man shaken by -fever; his eye has the depth of a visionary’s; a hoarse cough -preys upon that feeble frame. When Richelieu appears in the -midst of the courtiers, when he flings his scorn in the face of -the mediocrity that is to succeed him, when he supplicates and -adjures the vacillating Louis XIII., Mr. Irving endows that -fine figure with a striking majesty.</p> - -<p>“What a profound artist this tragedian is! The performance -over, I was taken to see him in his dressing-room. I -found him surrounded by portraits of Richelieu. He had -before him the three studies of Philippe de Champaigne, one -representing Richelieu in full face, and the others in profile. -There was also a photograph of the same painter’s full-length -portrait of the Cardinal. Before playing Louis XI. again, Mr. -Irving studied Commines, Victor Hugo, Walter Scott, and all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span> -who have written of the <i lang="fr">bourgeois</i> and avaricious king, who -wore out the elbows of his <i lang="fr">pourpoint de ratine</i> on the tables of -his gossips, the skin-dressers and shoemakers. The actor is -an adept in the art of face-painting, and attaches great importance -to the slightest details of his costume.</p> - -<p>“I asked him what other historical personage he would -like to represent, what face he, who excelled in what I call -stage-resurrection, would wish to revive. He reflected a -moment, his countenance assuming a thoughtful expression. -‘Français ou Anglais?’ he at length asked. ‘Français ou -Anglais: peu importe,’ I replied. ‘Eh bien!’ he said, after -another short pause, ‘je serais heureux de créer un Camille -Desmoulins.’</p> - -<p>“Mr. Irving’s literary and subtle mind leans to psychological -plays—plays which, if I may so express myself, are more tragic -than dramatic. He is the true Shakespearian actor. How -great was the pleasure which the performance of ‘Hamlet’ -afforded me! For a literary man it is a source of real enjoyment. -Mr. Irving, as manager of the Lyceum, spends more -than £3,000 a month to do things on an adequate scale. His -theatre is the first in London. He would like to make it a -sort of Comédie Française, as he would like to found a sort of -Conservatoire to afford young English artists the instruction -they stand so much in need of.</p> - -<p>“In Louis XI. Mr. Irving has been adjudged superior to -Ligier. Dressed with historical accuracy, he is admirable in -the comedy element of the piece and the chief scenes with the -Monk and Nemours. The limelight projected like a ray of -the moon on his contracted face as he pleads for his life -excited nothing less than terror. The hands, lean and crooked -as those of a Harpagon—the fine hands whose character is -changed with each of his <i lang="fr">rôles</i>—aid his words. And how -striking in its realism is the last scene, representing the struggle -between the dying king and his fate!”</p> - -<p>Another admirable French player, Got, once the glory of the -French Comédie, and unquestionably the most powerful and -varied performer of his day, used to come a good deal to -London between the years 1870 and 1880.</p> - -<p>It was a singular tribute to Irving that so great a player, -in his day greater even than Coquelin, should have been drawn -from his retirement to take up one of his characters. Got, the -“Dean of the French stage,” as Irving is “Dean” of the -English theatre, by-and-by felt himself irresistibly impelled to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span> -give his version of ‘The Bells.’ He induced a Paris manager -to draw forth the long-forgotten piece from its obscurity, and -presented Mathias very much on the <i lang="fr">bourgeois</i> lines of -Coquelin.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1887.<br /> -‘FAUST’—‘WERNER’—‘MACAIRE’—THE ACTOR’S SOCIAL GIFTS.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>He was now preparing for his third American tour, the object -of which was to introduce to the audiences of the United States -his splendid spectacular piece, ‘Faust.’ This had excited -much interest and expectation, and its attractions were even -magnified by distance. It was the “last word” in scenic display. -The Americans have now become a section, as it were, -of the Lyceum audiences, and it would seem to be inevitable -that at fixed intervals, and when a series of striking plays have -been given in England, the manager should feel a sort of irresistible -pressure to present the same attractions on the other -side of the Atlantic. This expedition took place in October, -1887, and was crowned with all success. Henceforth the -periodical visit to America will become a necessity; and a -new visit was already planned in concert with Mr. Abbey, which -was fixed for 1893.</p> - -<p>On the return of the company, after their United States -triumphs, ‘Faust’ was revived for a short period. At the -close of the first performance the manager announced his -plans, which were awaited with some curiosity. “The devil,” -he said, “had been to and fro on the face of the earth.” After -a month of ‘Faust,’ he proposed to give Mr. Calmour’s ‘Amber -Heart,’ to bring forward Miss Terry, while he himself was to -conclude the evening with a revival of ‘Robert Macaire.’</p> - -<p>On July 1, 1887, the manager of the Lyceum performed one -of those many kindly, graceful acts with which his name is -connected—an act done at the right moment, and for the -suitable person. He gave his theatre to benefit a veteran -dramatist, Dr. Westland Marston, who in his day had been -associated with the classical glories of the stage, and had written<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span> -the interesting ‘Wife’s Secret’ for Charles Kean. As he now -told the audience from the stage, fifty years had elapsed since -he had written his first piece for Macready. The committee -formed was a most influential one, and comprised the names -of such eminent <i lang="fr">littérateurs</i> as Browning, Alfred Austin, E. W. -Gosse, William Black, Wilkie Collins, Gilbert, Swinburne, -Tennyson, and many more. The performance was an afternoon -one, and the play selected was Byron’s ‘Werner,’ written -“up to date,” as it is called, by Frank Marshall. New scenery -and dresses had been provided, though the actor did not propose -giving another representation. He, however, intended to perform -it on his approaching American tour. It must be said -that the play gave little satisfaction, and was about as lugubrious -as ‘The Stranger,’ some of the acts, moreover, being played in -almost Cimmerian gloom. What inclined the manager to this -choice it would be difficult to say. He has rather a <i lang="fr">penchant</i> -for these morosely gloomy men, who stalk about the stage and -deliver long and remorseful reviews and retrospects of their -lives. The audience, however, sympathizes, and listens with -respectful attention.</p> - -<p>‘Werner’ was to illustrate once more the conscientious and -laborious care of the manager in the production of his pieces. -He engaged Mr. Seymour Lucas to furnish designs for the -dresses, who drew his inspirations from an old volume of -etchings of one “Stefano della Bella” in 1630. So patiently -<i lang="fr">difficile</i> is our manager in satisfying himself, that it is said the -dresses in ‘Faust’ were made and re-made three times before -they were found satisfactory. In this case all the arms of -antique pattern, the dresses, quaint head-dresses, and the like, -even down to the peculiar buttons of the period, were made -especially in Paris under Auguste’s superintendence.</p> - -<p>‘Robert Macaire,’ that strange, almost weird-like drama, was -familiar enough to Irving, who had occasionally played it in -the early part of his course, and also at the St. James’s Theatre -in 1867. For all performers of genius who have taste for the -mere <i lang="fr">diablerie</i> of acting, and the eccentric mixture of tragic -and comic, this character offers an attraction, if not a fascination. -We can feel its power ourselves as we call up the grotesque -figure; nay, even those who have never seen the piece can -have an understanding of the character, as a coherent piece of -grotesque. There is something of genius in the contrasted and -yet intimate union between the eccentric pair. In June, 1883, -there had been a performance at the Lyceum for the Royal<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span> -College of Music, when Irving had played the character, assisted -by “friend Toole,” Bancroft, Terriss, and Miss Terry—certainly -a strong cast. Toole, on this occasion, was almost too irrepressible, -and rather distorted the proportion of the two -characters, encroaching on the delicate details in the part of -his friend, and overflowing with the pantomimic humours, or -“gags,” which are the traditions of Jacques Strop. When the -piece was formally brought out, the part was allotted to Mr. -Weedon Grossmith, who was in the other extreme, and too -subordinate.</p> - -<p>The play was produced in July, 1888, and was found not so -attractive as was anticipated. It seemed as though it were not -wholly intelligible to the audience. There were some reasons -for this, the chief being the gruesome assassination at “the -roadside inn,” which is old-fashioned, being literally “played -out.” More curious was it to find that the quaint type of -Macaire seemed to convey nothing very distinct. All accepted -it as an incoherent extravagance: which opens an interesting -speculation—viz., How many such parts are there which have -been the characters of the original actors, and not the author’s—the -former’s creation, in short? Lemaître’s extraordinary -success was, as is well known, the result of a happy inspiration -conceived during the progress of the piece. From being a -serious or tragic character, he turned it into a grotesque one. -There may have been here something founded on the sort of -<i lang="fr">gaminerie</i> that seems to go with crime; or it may have been -recklessness, which, together with a ludicrous attempt at a -squalid dandyism, showed a mind not only depraved, but -dulled and <i lang="fr">embêté</i>. This sort of inspiration, where an actor -sees his own conception in the part and makes it his own, is -illustrated by ‘The Bells,’ which—in the hands of another -actor—might have been played according to conventional -laws.</p> - -<p>An English actor who would have succeeded in the part was -the elder Robson. In Irving’s case, the audience were not in -key, or in tune; the thing seemed <i lang="fr">passé</i>, though our actor had -all the traditions of the part, even to the curiously “creaking -snuff-box.”<a id="FNanchor_42" href="#Footnote_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span></p> - -<p>Among Wills’s friends, admirers, and associates—of which -his affectionate disposition always brought him a following—was -Calmour, the author of some pieces full of graceful poetry -of the antique model. Like Mr. Pinero, he “knew the boards,” -having “served” in the ranks, an essential advantage for all -who would write plays; had written several slight pieces of a -poetical cast, notably ‘Cupid’s Messenger,’ in which the graceful -and piquant Mary Rorke had obtained much success in a -“trunk and hose” character. But a play of a more ambitious -kind, ‘The Amber Heart,’ had taken Miss Terry’s fancy; she, -as we have said, had “created” the heroine at a <i lang="fr">matinée</i>. It -proved to be a sort of dreamy Tennysonian poem, and was -received with considerable favour.</p> - -<p>‘The Amber Heart,’ now placed in the bill with ‘Robert -Macaire,’ was revived with the accustomed Lyceum state and -liberality. To Alexander was allotted the hero’s part, and he -declaimed the harmonious lines with good effect. I fancy the -piece was found of rather too delicate a structure for such large -and imposing surroundings.<a id="FNanchor_43" href="#Footnote_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a></p> - -<p>Whenever there is some graceful act, a memorial to a -poet or player to be inaugurated, it is pretty certain that -our actor-manager will be called on to take the leading and -most distinguished share in the ceremonial. At the public -meeting, or public dinner, he can deport himself with much -effect.</p> - -<p>There are plenty of persons of culture who have been -deputed to perform such duties; but we feel there is often -something artificial in their methods and speeches. In the -case of the actor, we feel there is a something genuine; he -supplies a life to the dry bones, and we depart knowing that -he has added grace to our recollections of the scene. Nor<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span> -does be add an exaggeration to what he says; there is a happy -judicious reserve. This was felt especially on the occasion of -one pleasant festival day in the September of 1891, when a -memorial was unveiled to Marlowe, the dramatist, in the good -old town of Canterbury. It was an enjoyable expedition, with -something simple and rustic in the whole, while to anyone of -poetical tastes there was something unusually harmonious in -the combination offered of the antique town, the memory of -“Dr. Faustus,” the old Cathedral, and the beaming presence -of the cultured artist, of whom no one thought as manager of -a theatre. A crowd of critics and authors came from town by -an early train, invited by the hospitable Mayor. At any season -the old town is inviting enough, but now it was pleasant to -march through its narrow streets, under the shadow of its -framed houses, to the small corner close to the Christ Church -gate of the Cathedral, where the speeching and ceremonials -were discharged. The excellent natives seemed perhaps a little -puzzled by the new-found glories of their townsman; they were, -however, glad to see the well-known actor. Equally pleasant, -too, was it to make our way to the old Fountain Inn, where -the “worthy” Mayor entertained his guests, and where there -were more speeches. The image of the sleepy old town, and -the grand Cathedral, and of the pretty little fountain—which, -however, had but little suggestion of the colossal Marlowe—and -the general holiday tone still lingers in the memory. Irving’s -speech was very happy, and for its length is singularly suggestive.</p> - -<p>It was in October, 1887, that a memorial was set up at -Stratford, a clock-tower and fountain, in memory of Shakespeare. -It was the gift of the wealthy Mr. Childs, of New -York, who has been hitherto eager to associate his name, in -painted windows and other ways, with distinguished Englishmen -of bygone times. It may be suspected that Childs’s -name will not be so inseparably linked with celebrated -personages as he fondly imagined. There is a sort of incongruity -in this association of a casual stranger with an English -poet.</p> - -<p class="tb">Many a delightful night have his friends owed to the thoughtful -kindness and hospitality of their interesting host. Such is, -indeed, one of the privileges of being his friend. The stage -brings with it abundance of pleasant associations; but there -are a number of specially agreeable memories bound up with -the Lyceum. Few will forget the visit of the Duke of Meiningen’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span> -company of players to this country, which forms a -landmark of extraordinary importance in the history of our -modern stage. With it came Barnay, that accomplished and -romantic actor; and a wonderful instinct of disciplining -crowds, and making them express the passions of the moment, -as in Shakespeare’s ‘Julius Cæsar.’ The skilful German -stage-managers did not import their crowds, but were able to -inspire ordinary bands of supernumeraries with the dramatic -feelings and expression that they wanted.</p> - -<p>I recall one pleasant Sunday evening at the close of a -summer’s day, when Irving invited his friends to meet the -German performers at the Lyceum. The stage had been -picturesquely enclosed and fashioned into a banqueting-room, -the tables spread; the orchestra performed in the shadowy pit. -It was an enjoyable night. There was a strange mingling -of languages—German, French, English. There were speeches -in these tongues, and at one moment Palgrave Simpson was -addressing the company in impetuous fashion, passing from -English to French, from French to German, with extraordinary -fluency. Later in the evening there was an adjournment to -the Beef-steak rooms, where the accomplished Barnay found -himself at the piano, to be succeeded by the versatile Beatty-Kingston, -himself half German. There were abundant “Hochs” -and pledging. Not until the furthest of the small hours did we -separate, indebted to our kindly, unaffected host for yet one -more delightful evening.</p> - -<p>The manager once furnished a pleasantly piquant afternoon’s -amusement for his friends on the stage of his handsome theatre. -Among those who have done service to the stage is Mr. Walter -Pollock, lately editor of the <cite>Saturday Review</cite>, who, among -his other accomplishments, is a swordsman of no mean skill. -He has friends with the same tastes, with whom he practises -this elegant art, such as Mr. Egerton Castle, Captain Hutton, -and others. It is not generally known that there is a club -known as the Kerneuzers, whose members are <i lang="fr">amateurs enragés</i> -for armour and swordsmanship, many of whom have fine -collections of helmets, hauberks, and blades of right Damascene -and Toledo.<a id="FNanchor_44" href="#Footnote_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a></p> - -<p>Mr. Egerton Castle and others of his friends have written -costly and elaborate works on fencing, arms, and the practice<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span> -of <i lang="fr">armes blanches</i>, and at their meetings hold exciting combats -with dirk and foil. It was suggested that Mr. Castle should -give a lecture on this subject, with practical illustrations; and -the manager, himself a fencer, invited a number of friends -and amateurs to witness the performance, which took place on -February 25, 1891. This lecture was entitled “The Story of -Swordsmanship,” especially in connection with the rise and -decline of duelling. And accordingly there was witnessed a -series of combats, mediæval, Italian, and others, back-sword, -small-sword, sword and cloak, and the rest. Later the performance -was repeated at the instance of the Prince of Wales.</p> - -<p>Irving has often contributed his share to “benefits” for his -distressed brethren, as they are often called. In the days -when he was a simple actor he took his part like the rest; -when he became manager he would handsomely lend his -theatre, and actually “get up” the whole as though it were one -of his own pieces. This is the liberal, <em>grand</em> style of conferring -a favour. Miss Ellen Terry “takes her benefit” each year.</p> - -<p>In June, 1876, a performance was arranged at the Haymarket -for a benefit, when the ever-blooming ‘School for -Scandal’ was performed by Phelps, Miss Neilson, “Ben” -Webster, Irving, Bancroft, and others. Irving was the Joseph -Surface, a performance which excited much anticipation and -curiosity. Some time after he performed the same character at -Drury Lane. It might naturally have been thought that the -part would have exactly suited him, but whether from novelty -or restlessness, there was a rather artificial tone about the performance. -But what actor can be expected to play every -character, and to find every character suited to him? Joseph -we hold to be one of the most difficult in the whole <i lang="fr">répertoire</i> -to interpret. At the Belford benefit—and Belford and his -services to the stage, such as they were, are long since forgotten—the -all but enormous sum of £1,000 was received! -For schools, charities, convents even, and philanthropic work -of all kinds, some contribution from Henry Irving in the shape -of a recitation or scene may be looked for.</p> - -<p>Irving s vein of pleasantry is ever welcome as it is unpretentious. -I have heard him at the General Theatrical Fund -dinner give the toast of “The Army, Navy, and Reserve -Forces,” when he said, “There is an Artists’ Corps—I am -curious to know why there should not be an Actors’ Corps. -<em>We are accustomed to handle weapons.</em>” On this occasion -“friend Toole” had to leave on duty; “whose fine Roman<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span> -visage,” said his friend, “has beamed on us during dinner—he -has been obliged to go away, fortified, I hope, for his arduous -labours, but he will return—I know him well—and he will -too, I am sure, with a most excellent donation.” He can tell -a story or relish a humorous situation with equal effect. In -company with Toole, he has often contrived a droll situation -or comic adventure.<a id="FNanchor_45" href="#Footnote_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a></p> - -<p>At one period, when he was oppressed with hard work, it -was suggested to him that sleeping in the country would be a -great restorative after his labours. He much fancied an old -house and grounds at Hammersmith, known as “The Grange”; -and having purchased it, he laid out a good deal of money in -improving and restoring it It had nice old gardens, with -summer-house, a good staircase, and some old panelled rooms.</p> - -<p>To a man with such social tastes, the journey down and -the night spent there must have been banishment, or perhaps -was found too troublesome. Literary men, artists, and the -like do not much relish these tranquil pleasures, though -practical men of business do. I am certain most will agree -that they leave Fleet Street and the Strand with reluctance and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span> -return to it with pleasure. After a few years he was anxious -to be rid of what was only a useless toy, and it was offered for -sale for, I think, £4,000.<a id="FNanchor_46" href="#Footnote_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1888.<br /> -‘MACBETH’—‘THE DEAD HEART’—‘RAVENSWOOD.’</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>The approach of the opening night of ‘Macbeth’ caused more -excitement than perhaps any of the Lyceum productions. -There was a sort of fever of expectancy; it was known that -everything in the way of novelty—striking and sumptuous -dress and scenery, elaborate thought and study, and money -had been expended in almost reckless fashion. There were -legends afloat as to Miss Terry’s marvellous “beetle-green” -dress, and the copper-coloured tresses which were to hang down -on her shoulders.<a id="FNanchor_47" href="#Footnote_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a> The scenery was to be vast, solid, and -monumental. It was no surprise when it was learned that -before the day of performance some £2,000 had been paid for -seats at the box-office.</p> - -<p>While allowing due praise to the accomplishments and -sagacity of our dramatic critics, I confess to looking with some -distrust and alarm at a sort of “new criticism” which, like the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span> -so-called “new humour,” has developed in these latter days. -This amounts to the assumption of an aggressive personality—there -is a constant manifestation, not of the play or performers -criticised, but of the writer’s own thoughts and opinions. It -seems to be the fashion for a critic to devote his article to -Mr. ——, an opposing critic, as though the public attached any -importance to the opinions these gentlemen held of each other. -The vanity thus unconsciously displayed is often ludicrous -enough. The instances, however, are fortunately rare.</p> - -<p>Produced on December 29, the play caused considerable -excitement among Shakespearian students and “constant -readers”; and Miss Terry’s reading—or rather the appearance -of Miss Terry in the part—produced much vehement controversy. -We had “The Real Macbeth” in the <cite>Daily Telegraph</cite>, -with the usual “old playgoers” who had seen Mrs. Charles -Kean. I fancy there were but three or four persons who were -able to compare the performance of Miss Terry with that of -Mrs. Siddons—about sixty years before.<a id="FNanchor_48" href="#Footnote_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a></p> - -<p>Banquo’s ghost has always been a difficulty in every presentation -of the play; all the modern apparitions and phantasmagorian -effects neutralize or destroy themselves. The -powerful light behind exhibits the figure through the gauzes, -but to procure this effect the lights in front must be lowered or -darkened. This gives notice in clumsy fashion of what is -coming, and prepares us for the ghost.</p> - -<p>“New and original” readings rarely seem acceptable, and, -indeed, are scarcely ever welcomed by the public, who have -their old favourite lines to which they are well accustomed. -We never hear one of these novelties without an effect being<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span> -left as of something “purely fantastical,” as Elia has it, and -invariably they seem unacceptable and forced, producing surprise -rather than pleasure. Irving rarely introduces these -changes. A curious one in ‘Macbeth’ was the alteration of a -line—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“She should have died hereafter,”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">into</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“She would have died hereafter.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">That is a sort of careless dismissal of his wife’s death, as something -that must have occurred, according to the common lot.</p> - -<p>The irresolution and generally dejected tone of the Scottish -King, as presented by the actor, was much criticised, and -severely too. There was something “craven,” it was said, in -this constant faltering and shrinking. This, however, was the -actor’s conscientious “reading” of the part: he was not bound -by the Kemble or Macready traditions, but irresistibly impelled -to adopt the highly-coloured “romantic” view of our -day. He made it interesting and picturesque, and, in parts, -forcible. Miss Terry’s Lady Macbeth filled everyone with -wonder and admiration; as in the case of her Queen Katherine, -it seemed a miracle of energy and dramatic inspiration -triumphing over physical difficulties and habitual associations. -The task was herculean, and even those who objected could -not restrain their admiration.<a id="FNanchor_49" href="#Footnote_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a></p> - -<p>The pictures set forth in this wonderful representation linger -in the memory. The gloomy Scottish scenes, the castles and -their halls, the fine spreading landscapes, the treatment of the -witches, and Banquo’s ghost, were all but perfect in tone, and -had a judicious reserve. There was nothing overlaid or overdone.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span> -How admirably and exactly, for instance, did the scene -correspond to the beautiful lines:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">There painting and poetry went together! The banqueting-hall, -the arrangement of the tables, at right angles with the -audience, had a strange, barbaric effect, the guests being disposed -in the most natural fashion.</p> - -<p>After the run of ‘Macbeth’ had ceased, the manager proceeded -to carry out a plan which had long been in his thoughts, -and which many had suggested to him. This was to give -“readings,” in conjunction with Miss Terry, of some of his -plays. This would offer some respite from the enormous outlay -entailed by producing these great pieces at his theatre. -One could fancy that nothing could be more attractive than -such “readings,” the interest in the personality of the two great -performers being so generally diffused. He re-arranged “Macbeth” -for this purpose, and set off on a tour in the provinces. -But though everywhere well received, I think the plan did not -command the full success that was expected. There was a -defect somehow in the plan: two characters seemed to rob the -performance of that <em>unity</em> which is the charm of a reading. -Further, it was illustrated by the fine music, with orchestra, -etc., and this again disturbed the natural simplicity of a reading. -The actor’s own vividly-coloured imagination and tastes -could not, in fact, be content with the bald and <i lang="fr">triste</i> mechanisms -of the ordinary reader: he tried to impart what ornamentation -he could. The experiment was not, however, carried out -very long.<a id="FNanchor_50" href="#Footnote_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a></p> - -<p>Some thirty years before, in the old Adelphi days, when -“Ben” Webster was ruling, a drama was produced, the work -of a hard-working, drudging dramatist, Watts Phillips. It was -a pure melodrama, and people had not yet lost their faith in the -old devices. There was an honest belief that villainy would be -punished ere the end came. By the laws of such pieces, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span> -most painful situations were always contrasted with scenes of -broadest farce, which were supposed to relieve the excited -feelings. I well recall these humours. On the revival, however, -all this was softened away or abolished, and, I fancy, with -some injury to the constitution of the old piece.</p> - -<p>The production of ‘The Dead Heart’ furnished one more -instance of the tact and abilities which have secured the -manager of the Lyceum his high position. Here was a piece -of an old-fashioned kind, which, had it been “revived” at -an ordinary theatre, would have been found not only flat and -stale, but unprofitable for all concerned. Our manager, seeing -that it had dramatic life and situations, brought the whole -into harmony with the times, and, by the skilful <i lang="fr">remaniement</i> -of Mr. Walter Pollock, imparted to it a romantic grace. It is -admitted that he himself has rarely been fitted with a part so -suited to his genius and capacities, or in which he has roused -the sympathies of his audience more thoroughly. It is only -the romantic actor that understands what might be called the -<em>key</em> of a play.</p> - -<p>In this picturesque part of Robert Landry were exhibited no -fewer than four contrasted phases of character: the gay, hopeful -young artist; the terribly metamorphosed prisoner of nearly -twenty years; the recently delivered man, newly restored to the -enjoyment of life; and, lastly, the grim revolutionary chief, full -of his stem purpose of vengeance. This offered an opening -for the display of versatile gifts, which were certainly brought -out in the most striking contrast. But it was in the later scenes -of the play, when he appears as the revolutionary chief, that -our “manager-actor” exhibited all his resources. Nothing was -more artistic than the sense of restraint and reserve here shown, -which is founded on human nature. A person who has thus -suffered, and with so stem a purpose in view, will be disdainful -of speech, and oppressed, as it were, with his terrible design. -Quiet, condensed purpose, without any “fiendish” emphasis, -was never better suggested. Even when the drop-scene is -raised, and he is revealed standing by his table, there is the -same morose unrelenting air, with an impression that here was -one who had just passed through the fire, and had been executing -an act of vengeance which had left its mark.</p> - -<p>In a drama like ‘The Dead Heart,’ music forms a fitting -accompaniment furnishing colour and appropriate illustration. -It is almost uninterrupted from beginning to end. M. Jacobi -of the Alhambra furnished some effective, richly-coloured strains<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span> -to ‘The Dead Heart,’ alternately gay and lugubrious. More, -however, might have been made of the stirring ‘Marseillaise,’ -which could have been treated in various disguises and patterns -as a sort of <i lang="de">Leitmotiv</i>, much as Litolf has done in his symphonic -work on the same subject.</p> - -<p>A Scotch play—an adaptation of ‘The Bride of Lammermoor’—was -now prepared by Mr. Herman Merivale, a -dramatist of much poetical feeling, but whose course was -marked by piteous and disastrous incidents. Buoyed up by -the encouragement and admiration of his friends, and of kindly -critics who found merit in all he did, he struggled on in spite -of miserable health and a too highly-strung nervous temperament. -His work showed refinement and elegance, but it was -more for the reader than the playgoer. A gleam of prosperity, -however, came when Mr. Toole began to figure in the -writers grotesque pieces, ‘The Don,’ and others—to which, -indeed, the author’s wife had contributed some share.</p> - -<p>The new piece, which was called ‘Ravenswood,’ had lain -long in the manager’s cabinet, where at this moment repose a -number of other MSS., “commanded” and already purchased, -from the pens of Wills, Frank Marshall, and others. The latter -had fashioned Robert Emmett into a picturesque figure, the -figure and bearing of the manager having no doubt much that -suggested the Irish patriot; but the troubled period of Land -Leagues and agrarian violence set in at the time of its acceptance -with an awkward <i lang="fr">à propos</i>.<a id="FNanchor_51" href="#Footnote_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a></p> - -<p>There is a character, indeed, in which, as the tradition runs, -he formerly made almost as deep an impression as in ‘The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span> -Bells.’ This was Bill Sikes, and we can conceive what a -savagery he would have imparted to it. It would seem to be -exactly suited to his powers and to his special style; though -of course here there would be a suggestion of Dubosc. With -Miss Terry as Nancy here would be opened a realm of squalid -melodrama, and “Raquin-like” horrors.</p> - -<p>There are other effective pieces which seem to invite the -performance of this accomplished pair. Such, for instance, is -the pathetic, heartrending ‘Venice Preserved.’ Though there -might be a temptation here for the scenic artist—since Venice, -and its costumes, etc, would stifle the simple pathos of the -drama. ‘The Taming of the Shrew’ has been often suggested -and often thought of, but it has been effectively done at this -theatre by another company. ‘The Jealous Wife’—Mr. and -Mrs. Oakley—would also suit well. There is ‘The Winter’s -Tale,’ and finally ‘Three Weeks after Marriage’—one of the -most diverting pieces of farcical comedy that can be conceived.</p> - -<p>‘Ravenswood’ was produced on September 20, 1890. -While its scenes were being unfolded before us one could not -but feel the general weakness of the literary structure, which -was unequal to the rich and costly setting; neither did it correspond -to the broad and limpid texture of the original story. -It was unfortunately cast, as I venture to think. Mackintosh, -who performed Caleb, was somewhat artificial; while Ashton -père and his lady, rendered by Bishop and Miss Le Thière, -could hardly be taken <i lang="fr">au sérieux</i>. Irving infused a deep and -gloomy pathos into his part, and Miss Terry was, as ever, interesting, -touching, and charming. But the characters, as was -the story, were little more than thinly outlined. The scenes, -however, unfolded themselves with fine spectacular effect; -nothing could be more impressive than the scene of the first -act—a mountain gorge where Ravenswood has come for the -entombment of his father, and is interrupted by the arrival of -his enemy, Ashton. Beside it the Merivale version appeared -bald enough. The weird-like last scene, the “Kelpie Sands,” -with the cloak lying on the place of disappearance, the retainer -gazing in despair, was one of Irving’s finely poetical conceptions, -but it was more spectacular than dramatic. The truth is, -where there is so fine a theatre, and where all arts are supplied -to set off a piece in sumptuous style, these elements require -substantial stuff to support them, otherwise the effect becomes -trivial in exact proportion to the adornment.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span></p> - -<p>Irving has been often challenged for not drawing on the -talent of native dramatists, and for not bringing forward “new -and original” pieces. The truth is, at this moment we may -look round and seek in vain for a writer capable of supplying a -piece large and forcible enough in plot and character to suit -the Lyceum. We have Pinero and Henry Arthur Jones, but -they are writers of comedies and problem-dramas. Wills, in -spite of his faults, had genuine faith in the old methods. He -was of the school of Westland Marston. In this dearth of -talent, it might be well for Irving to give a commission to a -French dramatist to work on whatever subject he fancied, and -have the piece adapted.</p> - -<p>It was at the Christmas season of 1891 that the manager was -enabled to carry out a plan that had for years been before him—a -revival of ‘Henry VIII.’ We can quite conceive how, as -the fashion always was with him, the play ripened as it were -with meditation; how, as he walked or followed the consoling -fumes of his cigar in his chamber at Grafton Street, each scene -fell into shape or suggested some new and effective arrangement, -which again might be discarded as difficulties arose, or -as something happier occurred to him. The result of these -meditations was unquestionably a “large” and splendid setting -of the play, which, to my mind, whatever be the value of -the opinion, is certainly one of the finest, most finished, most -poetical, and sufficient of the many works that he has set before -us.<a id="FNanchor_52" href="#Footnote_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a> There was a greater Shakespearian propriety, and the -adornments, however lavish, might all be fairly justified. -Most to be admired was the supreme elegance of touch found -in every direction—acting, scenery, dresses, music, all reflected -the one cultivated mind. The truth is, long practice and the -due measuring of his own exertion have now supplied an ease<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span> -and boldness in his effects. To appreciate this excellence we -have only to turn to similar attempts made by others, whether -managers, or manager-actors, or manager-authors—and we find -only the conventional exertion of the scene-painter and stage-manager. -They have not the same inspiration.</p> - -<p>This play, produced on January 5, 1892, was received with -great enthusiasm. It became “a common form” of criticism -to repeat that it was of doubtful authorship; that it was -nothing but a number of scenes strung together; that there -was no story; that Buckingham vanished almost at the beginning -of the play; and that towards the end, Wolsey vanished -also. These, as I venture to say, are but ignorant objections; -characters will always supply a dramatic story, or a dramatic -interest that amounts to a story, and in the fate of Wolsey and -of Katherine, gradually developed and worked out, we had -surely a story sufficiently interesting.</p> - -<p>I have little doubt that Irving kept steadily in view the -object the great author had before him, viz., to present a page -of history enriched by all the suitable accompaniments of dress -and manners and customs. In this he was perfectly and -triumphantly successful. We were taken into the great -chambers, and tribunals; shown the ecclesiastical pomp and -state, so difficult to conceive now; the processions passing -through the streets, and presented in an exceedingly natural -and unconventional fashion.<a id="FNanchor_53" href="#Footnote_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a> The drama was set forth fully, -with every adjunct of dress, furniture, scenes, and numbers of -auxiliaries.</p> - -<p>The scenery, offering wonderful perspectives of Tudor halls -and interiors, the arrangements of the courts and various -meetings, were original and very striking. Yet here I should -be inclined to suggest anew the objections often made to the -modern system of large groupings compressed into the small -area of a stage, which, as it seems, is opposed to the canons of -scenic art.<a id="FNanchor_54" href="#Footnote_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a> These, too, seemed to acquire new force from the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span> -arrangement of the “Trial scene,” as it was called, which displayed -a great hall with the daïs, seats for the Cardinal, the -King, etc. The result of thus supplying a great area by the -system of compression (I am speaking merely of the principle), -is that the leading figures become dwindled in scale and -overpowered by the surrounding crowd. The contrast with -the older system is brought out by Harlow’s well-known picture, -where only the leading figures are grouped, and where by consequence -they stand out in greater relief. The spectator stands, -as it were, close beside them; but by the modern arrangement -he appears to be afar off, at the bottom of the hall, obtaining -but a distant view of them.<a id="FNanchor_55" href="#Footnote_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a></p> - -<p>When we consider what are the traditions of the two great -characters, how vivid they are, from the deep impressions left by -the great brother and sister on their contemporaries—an impression -which has really extended to our time—too much praise -could hardly be given to the performance of Irving and his gifted -companion. Irving’s Wolsey was exactly what those familiar -with his other impersonations could anticipate—poetical, -elegant, and in many portions powerful. He was the churchman -to perfection, carrying his robes admirably; in the face -there was a suggestion of the late departed Cardinal Manning. -All through the piece there was that picturesque acting which -fills the eye, not the ear, at the moment when speech is at -rest. It is thus that are confuted those theorists, including -Elia, who hold that Shakespeare is to be read, not acted.</p> - -<p>It is perhaps the power of suggestion and of stirring our -imagination that brings about this air of fulness and richness. -Irving, when he was not speaking, <em>acted</em> the pomp and state -and consummately depicted the smoothness of the Cardinal.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span> -When he was lost to view you felt the application of the oft-quoted -line touching the absence of “the well-grac’d” actor from the -scene, and it was wonderful to think, as we glanced round the -brilliant <i lang="fr">salle</i>—glittering with its vast crowd of well-dressed, -even jewelled, women (“Quite an opera pit!” as Ellison -would say)—to the fine stage before us, with its showy figures, -pictures, and pageants, that all this was <em>his</em> work and of his -creation!</p> - -<p>There were many diverse criticisms on Irving’s conception of -this famous character; some held that it was scarcely “large,” -rude, or overbearing enough. His view, however, as carried -out, seemed natural and consistent. The actor wished to -exhibit the character as completely overwhelmed by adverse -fortune; witness Macbeth, Othello, and many other characters. -In the last great soliloquy it was urged there was a want of -variety. Still, allowing for all traditional defects, it stands -beyond contradiction that it was a “romantic” performance, -marked by “distinction,” and a fine grace; and we might -vainly look around for any performer of our time who could -impart so poetical a cast to the character. And we may add a -praise which I am specially qualified to give, viz., that he was -the perfect ecclesiastic: as he sat witnessing the revels, now -disturbed, now careless—there was the Churchman revealed; -he was not, as was the case with so many others, a performer -robed in clerical garb.</p> - -<p>Of Miss Terry’s Queen Katharine, it can be said that it was -an <em>astonishing</em> performance, and took even her admirers by -surprise. She made the same almost gigantic effort as she did -in ‘Macbeth’ to interpret a vast character, one that might -have seemed beyond her strength, physical as well as mental. -By sheer force of will and genius she contrived to triumph. It -was not, of course, the <em>great</em> Queen Katharine of Mrs. Siddons, -nor did she awe and command all about her; but such earnestness -and reality and dramatic power did she impart to the -character that she seemed to supply the absence of greater -gifts. Her performance in the Court and other scenes of the -persecuted, hunted woman, now irritated, now resigned, was -truly pathetic and realistic. There may have been absent the -overpowering, queen-like dignity, the state and heroism, but it -was impossible to resist her—it was her “way,” and by this way -she gained all hearts. It must be confessed that nothing ever -supplied such an idea of the talents and “cleverness” of this -truly brilliant woman as her victory over the tremendous difficulties<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span> -of these parts. The performance won her the sympathies -of all in an extraordinary degree.</p> - -<p>So admirably had our manager been penetrated with the -spirit of the scenes, that he was enabled to present them in a -natural and convincing way, and seemed to revive the whole -historic time and meaning of the situation. This was particularly -shown in the scene when Buckingham is led to -execution; his address to the crowd was delivered with so -natural a fashion, with such judicious and pathetic effect, -that it not only gained admiration for the performance, but -brought the scene itself within range of every day life. For, -instead of the old conventional declamatory speech to a stage -crowd, we had some “words” which the sufferer, on entering -the boat, stopped for a moment to address to sympathizers -who met him on the way.</p> - -<p>The music, the work of a young composer, Mr. Edward -German, was truly romantic and expressive; stately and -richly-coloured. How wonderful, by the way, is the progress -made of late years in theatrical music! We have now a group -of composers who expend their talents and elegancies in the -adornment of the stage. The flowing melodies and stately -marches of the Lyceum music still linger in the ear.</p> - -<p>It was in January, 1892, when he was performing in -‘Henry VIII.,’ that a very alarming piece of news, much -magnified by report, reached him. His son Laurence was -playing at Belfast in the Benson Company, and had by some -accident shot himself with a revolver; this casualty was exaggerated -to an extraordinary degree,—three local doctors -issued bulletins; “the lung had been pierced”—until the -anxious father at last sent over an experienced surgeon, Mr. -Lawson Tait, who was able to report that the wound was -trivial, and the weapon a sort of “toy-pistol.” Much sympathy -was excited by this casualty. The manager has two sons, -Henry and Laurence, the latter named after Mr. Toole, who -are now both following their father’s profession.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1892.<br /> -‘KING LEAR’—‘BECKET.’</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>After presenting so many of Shakespeare’s great dramas, it -was to be expected that the manager could not well pass by -what has been justly styled the Titanic play of ‘King Lear.’ -This had, indeed, always been in his thoughts; but he naturally -shrank from the tremendous burden it entailed. It was prepared -in his usual sumptuous style. There were sixteen -changes of scene and twenty-two characters, and the music was -furnished by Hamilton Clarke. The scenery was divided -between Craven and Harker, the latter a very effective artist of -the same school. There were some beautiful romantic effects: -the halls, the heath, and notably the Dover scenes, were exquisite. -I doubt if their presentation has been excelled by any -preceding attempts. The barbaric tone and atmosphere of -the piece was conveyed to perfection, without being insisted on -or emphasized. It is only when we compare the ambitious -attempts of other managers who would indulge in effects equally -lavish and sumptuous, that we recognise the ability, ease, -reserve, and force of the Lyceum manager.<a id="FNanchor_56" href="#Footnote_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a> They, too, will -have their “archæology” and their built-up temples, designed -by painters of repute, and crowds; but there is present only -the sense of stage effect and the flavour of the supernumerary. -The secret is the perfect subordination of such details to the -general effect. They should be, like the figures on a tapestry, -indistinct, but effective as a background. Charles Lamb’s -well-worn dictum, that ‘Lear’ should never be acted, was -trotted forth in every criticism. There is some truth in this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span> -exaggerated judgment, because it can never be <em>adequately</em> presented, -and the performance must always fall short of the -original grandeur. With his remarks on the pettiness of the -stage-storm, one would be inclined to agree, even on this -occasion, when every art was exhausted to convey the notion -of the turmoil of the elements. The truth is, an audience -sitting in the stalls and boxes will never be seduced into -accepting the rollings and crashings of cannon-balls aloft, and -the flashing of lycopodium, as suggesting the awful warring of -the elements.</p> - -<p>‘Lear’ was brought forward on Thursday, November 10, -1892, and its presentation was a truly romantic one. The -figure had little of the usual repulsive aspects of age—the -clumsy white beard, etc.—but was picturesque. The entry -into his barbaric court, the strange retainers with their head-dresses -of cows’ horns, was striking and original. The whole -conception was human. The “curse” was delivered naturally. -In presenting, however, the senile ravings of the old monarch, -the actor unavoidably assumed an indistinctness of utterance, -and many sentences were lost. This imperfection was dwelt on -in the criticisms with superfluous iteration, and though the actor -speedily amended and became almost emphatically distinct, -this notion seemed to have settled in the public mind, with -some prejudice to the success of the piece. Though he was -thus quick to remedy this blemish, distinctness was secured by -deliberation, and at some loss of effect. The actor’s extraordinary -exertions—for he was at the same time busy with the -preparation of a new piece—exhausted him, and obliged him -for some nights to entrust the part to another. But the real -obstacle to full success could be found in the general lugubrious -tone of the character; the uninterrupted sequence of horrors -and distresses led to a feeling of monotony difficult for the -actor to vanquish. The public never takes very cordially to -pieces in which there is this <em>sustained misery</em>, though it can -relish the alternations of poignant tragedy attended by quick -dramatic changes. Cordelia, though a small part, was made -prominent by much touching pathos and grace, and the dying -recognition by the old King brought tears to many eyes.<a id="FNanchor_57" href="#Footnote_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span></p> - -<p>An interesting feature in Irving’s career has been his long -friendship with Tennyson, poet and dramatist, which lasted -for some fifteen or sixteen years. The actor showed his -appreciation of the poet’s gifts by the rather hazardous -experiment of presenting two of his poetical dramas to the -public. We have seen what sumptuous treatment was accorded -to ‘The Cup’; and in ‘Queen Mary’ the actor contributed -his most powerful dramatic efforts in the realization of the grim -Philip.</p> - -<p>The poet, however, made little allowance for the exigencies -of the stage. During the preparation of ‘The Cup,’ he contended -eagerly for the retention of long speeches and scenes, -which would have shipwrecked the piece. Yet, undramatic as -most of his dramas are, a taste for them was springing up, and -not long before his death he had the gratification of knowing -that his ‘Foresters’ had met with surprising success in America. -No less than six pieces of his have been produced, and though -the idea prevails that he has been “a failure” as a dramatist, -it will be found that on the whole he has been successful. It -may be that by-and-by he will be in higher favour. But he -will have owed much to Irving, not merely for presenting his -plays with every advantage, but for putting them into fitting -shape, with firm, unerring touch removing all that is superfluous.</p> - -<p>So far back as the year 1879 the poet had placed in Irving’s -hands a drama on the subject of Becket and the Fair Rosamund. -It was really a <em>poem</em> of moderate length, though in -form a drama, and the actor naturally shrank from the difficulties -of dealing with such a piece. The “pruning knife” would -here have been of little avail; the axe or “chopper” would -have to be used unsparingly. The piece was accordingly laid -aside for that long period; the lamented death of the poet -probably removed the chief obstacle to its production. It is -said, indeed, that almost one-half was cut away before it could -be put in shape for performance. On Monday, February 6,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span> -1893, the actor’s birthday, this posthumous piece was brought -out with every advantage, and before an assemblage even more -brilliant than usual. It revived the memories of the too recent -‘Henry VIII.,’ in which there is much the same struggle -between Prince and Bishop. The actor has thus no less than -three eminent Catholic ecclesiastics in his <i lang="fr">répertoire</i>—Richelieu, -Wolsey, and Becket; but, as he pleasantly said, he could -contrast with these an English clergyman, the worthy Dr. -Primrose, Vicar of Wakefield. Yet he admirably and dramatically -distinguished their several characters.</p> - -<p>There is always a curiosity to have the curtain lifted, so that -we may have a glimpse of a play in the throes and troubles of -rehearsal. Mr. Burgin, in one of the magazines, gave a very -dramatic sketch of how things were conducted during the preparation -of ‘Becket’:</p> - -<p>“After Mr. Irving has grouped the men on the benches, he -steps back and looks at the table. ‘We ought to have on it -some kind of mace or crozier,’ he says—‘a large crozier. Now -for the “make up.” All the barons and everyone who has a -moustache must wear a small beard. All the gentlemen who -have no beards remain unshaven. All the priests and bishops -are unshaven. The mob can have slight beards, but this is -unimportant. Now, take off your hats, gentlemen, please. -Some of you must be old, some young. Hair very short;’ -and he passes from group to group selecting the different -people. ‘Now, I think that is all understood pretty well. -Where are the sketches for dresses?’</p> - -<p>“The sketches are brought, and he goes carefully through -them. Miss Terry and Mr. Terriss also look over the big -white sheets of paper. The fox-terrier strolls up to the group, -gives a glance at them, and walks back again to Miss Terry’s -chair with a slightly cynical look. Then Mr. Irving returns to -the groups by the benches. ‘Remember, gentlemen, you -must be arguing here, laying down the law in this way,’ suiting -the action to the word. ‘Just arrange who is to argue. Don’t -do it promiscuously, but three or four of you together. Try to -put a little action into it. I want you to show your arms, and -not to keep them glued to your sides like trussed fowls. No; -that isn’t half enough action. Don’t be frightened. Better -make too much noise rather than too little, but don’t stop too -suddenly. Start arguing when I ring the first bell. As I ring -the second bell, you see me enter, and stop.’ The dog stands<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span> -one bell, but the second annoys him, and he disappears from -the stage altogether, until the people on the benches have -finished their discussion.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Irving next tries the three-cornered stools which are -placed around the table, but prefers square ones. The dog -returns, walks over to the orchestra, looks vainly for a rat, and -retreats under the table in the centre of the stage as if things -were getting really too much for him. But his resting-place is -ill-chosen, for presently half-a-dozen angry lords jump on the -table, and he is driven forth once more. After a stormy scene -with the lords, Mr. Irving walks up the steps again. ‘When I -say “I depart,” you must let me get up the steps. All this -time your pent-up anger is waiting to burst out suddenly. -Don’t go to sleep over it.’ He looks at the table in the centre -of the stage, and turns to a carpenter. ‘This table will never -do. It has to be jumped on by so many people that it must -be very strong. They follow me.’ (To Miss Terry) ‘They’d -better catch hold of me, up the steps here.’</p> - -<p>“Miss Terry: ‘They must do something. They can’t stand -holding you like that.’</p> - -<p>“Mr. Irving: ‘No.’ The door opens suddenly at top of -steps, and discovers the crowd, who shout, ‘Blessed is he that -cometh in the name of the Lord.’</p> - -<p>“The doors open and the crowd shout, but the effect is not -good.</p> - -<p>“Miss Terry: ‘It would be better if it were done at the foot of -the steps. The people needn’t show their faces as they do it, -and the effect will be so much better.’”</p> - -<p>‘Becket’ contained thirty characters, and was set off by fine -scenery and excellent music, written specially by Professor Stanford, -this not being the first time his notes had been associated -with the poet. Never have Irving’s efforts been greeted with -such overpowering, tumultuous applause. At the end of every -act there were as many as five “recalls.” In such pieces, as -well as in some of Shakespeare’s, there is always a matter of -interesting debate in fixing the era, dresses, architecture, etc.—a -matter perhaps of less importance than is supposed. Irving’s -conception of ‘Becket’ was truly picturesque and romantic; -he imported a pathetic tone, with a sort of gloomy foreboding -of the impending martyrdom, conveyed by innumerable touches. -The actor has the art of moulding his features and expression -to the complexion of the character he is performing nightly.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span> -Thus, in ‘Becket,’ it can be seen that he had already assumed -the meditative, wary look of the aspiring ecclesiastic.</p> - -<p>It is evidence of the interest excited by ‘Becket,’ that a little -discussion arose between a Benedictine Father and another -ecclesiastic on the hymn, “Telluris ingens Conditor,” which -was played in the cathedral scene and through the piece. The -Benedictine contended that it must have been some older form -of the hymn before the pseudo-classicalization “of the Breviary -Hymns in the sixteenth century.” “I do not suppose,” he -added, “that Mr. Irving’s well-known attention to detail -extends to such <i lang="la">minutiæ</i> as these. The famous cathedral -scene, in his presentment of ‘Much Ado about Nothing,’ was -received with a chorus of praise as a marvel of liturgical -accuracy. But I am told that to Catholic eyes at least some -of its details appeared incorrect.” Thus, to the monastery even, -does the fame of our manager’s efforts reach!</p> - -<p>One of the most remarkable things connected with ‘Becket’ -was the unanimous applause and approbation of the entire -press.<a id="FNanchor_58" href="#Footnote_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a> Even one or two evening papers, which had spoken -with a little hesitation, returned to the subject a few nights -later to correct their judgment and to admit that they had been -hasty. All confessed that they had been captivated by the -picturesqueness of the central figure.</p> - -<p>Apart from his professional gifts, Irving is assuredly one of -those figures which fill the public eye, and of which there are -but few. This is owing to a sort of sympathetic attraction, and -to an absence of affectation. He plays many parts in the social -scheme, and always does so with judiciousness, contributing to -the effect of the situation. His utterances on most subjects -are thoughtful and well considered, and contribute to the enlightenment -of the case. At his examination by the London<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span> -County Council, when many absurd questions were put to him, -he answered with much sagacity. His views on the employment -of children in theatres are truly sensible. More remarkable, -however, are his opinions on the science of acting, the -art of management, and of dealing with audiences and other -kindred topics, which show much thought and knowledge. He -has, in truth, written a great deal, and his various “discourses,” -recently collected in a pretty little volume, do credit to his -literary style and power of expression.<a id="FNanchor_59" href="#Footnote_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a></p> - -<p>Here we must pause. We have seen what our actor has -done, what a change he has worked in the condition of the -stage: what an elegant education he has furnished during all -these years. And though he has been associated with the -revival of the stage, and a complete reform in all that concerns -its adornment, it will be his greatest glory that he has presented -<span class="smcap">Shakespeare</span> on a grand scale, under the sumptuous and -judicious conditions and methods that have made the poet -acceptable to English audiences of our day.</p> - -<p>There have been many laments over the fleeting, evanescent -character of an actor’s efforts. If his success be triumphant, -it is like a dream for those who have not seen. Description -gives but the faintest idea of his gifts. The writer, as it were, -continues to write after his death, and is read, as he was in his -lifetime. But the player gone, the play is over. The actor, -it is true, if he be a personality, has another audience outside<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span> -his theatre. As I have shown in these pages, he can attract -by force of character the interest and sympathies of the general -community. Whatever he does, or wherever he appears, eyes -are turned to him as they would be to one on a stage. -There is a sort of indulgent partiality in the case of Irving. -He is a dramatic figure, much as was Charles Dickens. Eyes -are idly bent on him that enters next. And this high position -is not likely to be disturbed; and though all popularity is precarious -enough, he has the art and tact to adapt his position to -the shifty, capricious changes of taste, and in the hackneyed -phrase is more “up to date” than any person of his time. -The fine lines in ‘Troilus and Cressida’—the most magnificent -in Shakespeare, as they seem to me—should ring in every -actor’s ear, or indeed in that of everyone that enjoys public -favour. Alas! it must be his lot to be ever at the oar. There -is no relaxing, no repose; no coy retirement, or yielding to importunate -rivalry:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“To have done, is to hang quite out of fashion,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Like a rusty mail in monumental mockery....</div> - <div class="verse indent0">For honour travels in a strait so narrow,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Where one but goes abreast: keep, then, the path;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">For emulation hath a thousand sons,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That one by one pursue: if you give way,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Or turn aside from the direct forth-right,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Like to an enter’d tide, they all rush by,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And leave you hindmost;—and there you lie</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Like a gallant horse fallen in first rank,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">For pavement to the abject rear, o’er-run</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And trampled on; then, what they do in present,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Though less than yours in past, must o’ertop yours.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1893.<br /> -‘KING ARTHUR’—CORPORAL BREWSTER—HONOURS.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>When the theatre opened for the season, ‘Faust’ was revived to -fill the time, and it drew excellent and satisfactory “houses” -until the new piece was got ready. This, it was said, was rehearsed -on board the steamer on the way home. Our actor had long<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span> -before him the idea of playing the “spotless King,” and had -the late Laureate been alive he might have been tempted to -shape his great poem into a play. As it was, the versatile -Comyns Carr was intrusted with the task, and, somewhat to -the surprise of the public, he who had been art-critic, manager -of Grosvenor and New Galleries, dramatist and designer of -dresses, etc., for the Lyceum, now came forward as a poet; -and a very respectable poet he proved to be, with harmonious -mellifluous lines, effective from a stage point of view. It must -be said, however, that the play is altogether a literary one, and -rather lacks dramatic movement. It is really a series of -dramatic recitations set off by beautiful shows, processions, and -scenic views. The situations, too, scarcely brought about or led -up to, are effective enough when we reach them. The piece -was no doubt “written in the theatre” under inspiration of the -manager, and supplied exactly what he wanted. The scenery -was designed by Sir E. Burne Jones, who supplied some exquisite -combinations or arrangements of colour, which were -certainly new to stage-land. The music was Sir Arthur -Sullivan’s, and there was later to be the unusual and unprecedented -incident of no fewer than <em>three</em> knights—a musician, a -painter, and an actor—combining their talents in a single play. -Beautiful was the opening scene with the blue waters and the -swimming maidens imported from ‘Rheingold,’ with the -finding of the “Excalibur” contrived most skilfully. There -were grand halls and castles, and woodland groves, all exhibiting -much originality of touch, that unvarying effective grace -and tact which made the most of the materials. The characters -were rather faintly outlined. King Arthur and his queen -are comparatively colourless; so is Elaine. Mr. Forbes Robertson, -who played Lancelot with picturesque power, was early -withdrawn, being bound by some other engagement. His -successor, a pleasing light comedian, lacks the weight necessary -for the character. Miss Terry was, as usual, touching and -pathetic. So refined, so perfect was the general treatment, that -it attracted and drew larger and yet larger houses.</p> - -<p>As the season went on, the manager, following his favourite -policy, prepared a series of revivals on a gigantic scale. These -were virtually convenient rehearsals for the coming American -tour. But the constant changes of scenes, dresses, etc., involve -an enormous strain. The round of pieces included, -within the space of a few weeks, no fewer than eleven plays:<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span> -‘Faust,’ ‘King Arthur,’ ‘Louis XI.,’ ‘Merchant of Venice,’ -‘Becket,’ ‘Much Ado about Nothing,’ ‘The Lyons Mail,’ -‘Charles I.,’ ‘Nance Oldfield,’ ‘Corsican Brothers,’ ‘Macbeth.’ -A new short piece, ‘Journeys End in Lovers Meeting,’ by -George Moore and John Oliver Hobbes, which was to introduce -Miss Terry, was also announced. The burden of “staging” all -these great works, in a short time, must have been enormous. -But it was only in this fashion that the revivals could be done -justice to.</p> - -<p>It is a wonderful proof of our actor’s ability that, after so -many years of experiment in characters of all kinds, he should -in almost his latest attempt have made one of his most signal -successes. I doubt if anything he has hitherto tried has more -profoundly impressed his audience than the little cabinet sketch -of Corporal Brewster in Dr. Conan Doyle’s ‘Story of Waterloo.’ -This he had first presented to a provincial audience, some -eight months ago, at Bristol, with such extraordinary effect that -the general audience of the kingdom felt instinctively that a -great triumph had been achieved. Everyone at a distance at -once knew and was interested in the old corporal. A second -trial was made in London, for a charity; and at last, on May 4 -of the present year, it was formally brought forward in the -regular programme. There was what is called “a triple bill,” -consisting of Mr. Pinero’s early drama, ‘Bygones,’ this ‘Story -of Waterloo,’ and some scenes from ‘Don Quixote,’ Wills’s -posthumous work.<a id="FNanchor_60" href="#Footnote_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a></p> - -<p>This sketch of the old soldier is a fine piece of acting, highly -finished, yet natural and unobtrusive, full of pathos and even -tragedy. The actor excelled himself in numerous forcible -touches, now humorous, now pathetic. He gave the effect of -its being a large history in little; we had the whole life of the -character laid out before us. It was original, too, and the -oddities were all kept in with a fine reserve. The figure will -always be present to the memory, a satisfactory proof of excellence. -There was one mistake, however, in giving the female -character to Miss Hughes, a bright and lively <i lang="fr">soubrette</i>, -who could not, therefore, supply the necessary sympathetic -interest, though she did her best. Taking it all in all, Corporal -Brewster is, in its way, one of the most masterly things the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span> -actor has done, and it can be praised—ay, extolled—without -the smallest reservation.</p> - -<p>It was followed by the scenes from ‘Don Quixote,’ and -here, again, we must admire that admirable power of conceiving -a character in which Irving excels, and in which all true -actors should excel. It was admitted that the piece was a -“poorish” thing, but here was supplied the living image of -the hapless and ever interesting “Don,” who lived, moved, and -had his being before us, in the most perfect way. There was -a general dreaminess over him; his soul was so filled with high -chivalrous visions that he was indifferent to the coarsely prosaic -incidents going on about him. He filled the stage; the rest -were mere puppets. The character, in spite of the shortcomings -of the piece, might be made one of his best. “One -of these days”—always an indefinite period—we may look to -see him in a vigorous, well-written drama on this subject.</p> - -<p>And here it may be said that this long connection of Wills -and his school with the Lyceum has tended somewhat to the -sacrifice of brisk dramatic action, which is always enfeebled by -an excess of poetical recitations. There are still many fine subjects -and fine dramas which would kindle all the actor’s powers -afresh and stir his audiences. What a fine piece, for instance, -could be made of Victor Hugo’s ‘Notre Dame’! We already -see our actor as the mysterious and romantic monk—one more -addition to his ecclesiastical gallery. What opportunities for -scenery and music! One of the most picturesque of stories is -that of Theodore of Corsica, he who dreamed of being a king and -actually became one, and who died in the King’s Bench Prison -in the most piteous state of misery. We should like to see -him, too, as Rodin, in Sue’s ‘Wandering Jew,’ and, better still, -in ‘Venice Preserved,’ or in ‘Mlle. de Belleisle.’</p> - -<p>After his twenty years’ fruitful work at the Lyceum—twenty -years and more of picturesque labour during which a new -interest was created in the stage—an official recognition was -to be given of our actor’s high position. The year 1895 will -henceforth be notable as the year of the first tardy honour ever -bestowed on an English actor by the Crown. We have had -titled players in abundance on the stage, but they have not -owed their honours to the stage. It has been said that Sir -Richard Steele and Sir Augustus Harris are the only two titled -managers. When, in May, the usual list of what are called -“birthday honours” came out, the public was delighted to find<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span> -their favourite included, in company with a poet, a novelist, -and a successful traveller. Few Government acts have given -such general satisfaction. There was a general chorus of -appreciation. Already a lecturer before the Universities and a -doctor of letters, the leading player of his time was now -officially recognised.</p> - -<p>To no class of the community was the honour more acceptable -than to his own profession. A meeting of actor-managers -and others was held to take some step “in recognition,” it was -said, of the distinction. Mr. Bancroft presided, and a provisional -committee was formed, consisting of Mr. Toole, Mr. Pinero, -Mr. Beerbohm Tree, Sir A. Harris, Mr. Hare, Mr. Wyndham, -Mr. G. Alexander, Mr. Terry, Mr. Forbes Robertson, Mr. -Terriss, Mr. Howe, Mr. Brough, Mr. G. Conquest, and some -others. Mr. Bashford acted as secretary. Another meeting -with the same end in view was called of “proprietors, authors, -managers.” All this was very gratifying. Not less striking -was the feeling with which the news was received abroad, and -his <i lang="fr">confrères</i> of the French comedy—the “House of Molière” -as it proudly and so justly boasts itself—lost not a moment in -calling a meeting and sending him a formal “act” of congratulation. -This important document ran:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right">“Paris, <i>May 28, 1895</i>.</p> - -<p class="noindent">“<span class="smcap">Dear Sir Henry Irving</span>,</p> - -<p>“The committee of the Comédie Française and the -<i lang="fr">sociétaires</i> of the House of Molière desire to send you their -cordial congratulations, and to signify the joy they feel at the -high distinction of which you have lately been made the recipient. -We are all delighted to see a great country pay homage -to a great artist, and we applaud with all our hearts the fitting -and signal recompense paid to an actor who has done such -powerful service and profound honour to our calling and our -art. Accept, then, dear Sir Henry Irving, the expression of -the deep sympathy as artists and the sincere devotion which -we feel towards you.—(Signed) Jules Claretie, administrator-general -and president of committee; Mounet Sully, G. Worms, -Silvain, Georges Baillet, Coquelin cadet, Proudhon, etc., -of the committee; S. Reichemberg, Bartet, B. Baretta -Worms, Paul Mounet, Mary Kalb, Blanche Pierson, A. Dudlay, -etc., <i lang="fr">sociétaires</i>.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Looking back over this long period of nigh thirty years, we<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span> -are astonished to find this laborious and conscientious performer -never absent from his stage. Night after night, year -after year, he is still found at his post, defiant of fatigue or ill-health. -Only on one occasion, I think, owing to some affection -of his throat, had a substitute to take his place. The -pressure and constant struggle of our time, it may be, takes -no account of weakness or failure; no one dares relax, -and as Mrs. Siddons declared the player’s nerves must be -made of cart-ropes, so must he have a constitution of iron or -steel.</p> - -<p>Notwithstanding this constant strain upon his time and -labour, there is no figure more conspicuous in the whole round -of social duties and entertainments. Wherever there is a gathering -for the purpose of helping his profession, he is to be found -presiding or assisting. He takes his share in the important -movements of the day, and his utterances, always judicious, -useful, and valuable, are quoted abundantly.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.<br /> -<span class="smaller">L’ENVOI.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>Irving has always shown himself eager to plead for his profession, -to urge its claim as a wholesome and instructive moral -influence that will implant in the community elevating instincts -of even a religious kind. All our great actors have been forward -in this way, notably Garrick, Kemble, and Macready. The -former’s reply to the bishop as to the success and failure of -their different styles of preaching is well known. In these -days, when we have that singular “Church and State Guild,” -with the pleadings of the Reverend Stewart Headlam, and of -other clergymen, in favour of the ballet, it is curious to -find how this indulgent and tolerant view is repaid by the -introduction on the stage of grotesque curates, vicars, and -deans, the line being drawn at bishops, who now figure in -many a comic opera in absurd and even degrading situations. -Our actor is very earnest, and fondly believes that the day is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span> -approaching when the stage, and its ways and works, will be -recognised by the Church, and by good people generally, as -healthy, useful agents in the work of reforming men and women. -He is fond of repeating the Bishop’s remark to him, when he -asked why, with such a taste for the theatre, he did not frequent -it—“My dear Irving, I am afraid of the <cite>Rock</cite> and the -<cite>Record</cite>.”</p> - -<p>In his numerous addresses at institutes, and before the -Universities, he has urged the same plea. And yet, with this -skilful and loyal advocacy, we have an instinct that the stage -can have but small effect on the masses, and does little beyond -making them acquainted with certain refining ideas and situations. -As for its fostering moral or religious impressions, -by exhibiting “virtue triumphant and vice defeated,” that -seems to be rather fanciful. It is probable that the playwrights, -managers, actors, and audiences use the theatres for profit -and for amusement, not for self improvement in religion or -morals. Even the great classical works, such as those of -Shakespeare, are set forward with so much magnificence, show, -and spectacle, that the teachings are overpowered in the -spectacle and general entertainment. But even granting the -contention that it may become a pure leaven in the profession, -or sweetening salt to purify the rest, who can maintain that the -stage as a whole, with its burlesques, “grotesques,” frivolities, -fooleries, and license of speech and manners, can be considered -an edifying school for morality and religion? What a deep -impression, on the other hand, leaves such a piece as ‘The -School for Scandal’! what a genuine disgust for deceit and -insincerity! How it shows the danger of “playing with -fire”! What a pleasant sympathy is aroused with the natural, -manly virtues! Here is a certain sort of teaching if you will, -and here, too, is there an elemental morality. But in these -days we unhappily not only lack the talent to supply such -comedies, but the public taste is debauched and gorged with -grosser dishes.</p> - -<p>In his paper, addressed to the Church of England Temperance -Society, and read on March 3, 1876, Irving very valiantly -pressed for the formal recognition of his profession by the -Church. “Make the theatre respected by openly recognising -its services. Let members of religious congregations know -that there is no harm, but rather good, in entering into ordinary -amusements, so far as they are decorous. Use the pulpit, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span> -press, and the platform to denounce not the stage, but certain -evils that find allowance on it. Change your attitude towards -the stage, and, believe me, the stage will co-operate with you,” -etc.</p> - -<p>It must be said, however, as regards this friendly invitation, -that this idea of the churches cordially recommending the stage -and of the clergy being seen in the stalls, and of bishops who -would go to the theatre but for fear of the <cite>Rock</cite> and the <cite>Record</cite>, -seems but a pleasant delusion. Some few stray clerical visitants -there are, no doubt; but in all ages and climes the Church has -found itself opposed to the stage, on the ground that in the -majority of theatres is found what is destroying and corrupting. -As I have said, the pieces in which anything instructive, or -even elevating, is set forth are but few.</p> - -<p>Irving has collected his various addresses in a charming -little volume, “The Drama,” 1893. Here, in an exceedingly -persuasive and graceful style, he has expounded the principles -of his art. On every point he has something to say, and all is -marked by judiciousness and a temperate reserve. He does -not adopt Diderot’s well-known theory. How true, for instance, -is this: “Nor do I think that servility to archæology on the -stage is an unmixed good. Correctness of costume is admirable -and necessary up to a certain point, but when it ceases to be -‘as wholesome as sweet’ it should, I think, be sacrificed. The -nicest discretion is needed in the use of the materials which -are nowadays at the disposal of the manager. Music, painting, -architecture, costume, have all to be employed, with a strict -regard to the production of an artistic whole in which no -element shall be obtrusive.” When ‘Much Ado about Nothing’ -was produced, there was a scene representing a cedar walk, and -a critic discovered that there were no cedars in England until -fifty years later, on which he comments—“Absolute realism -on the stage is not always desirable, any more than the photographic -reproduction of Nature can claim to rank with the -highest art.”</p> - -<p>A little bit of pleasant comedy is found in a recent speech -of his at the dinner of the Cabdrivers’ Benevolent Association -in June last. He had always a friendly feeling for this hard-worked -body of men, as he told his audience autobiographically: -“I have spent a great part of my life in cabs. There -was a time, indeed, when a hansom, by a slight stretch of the -picturesque, might have been described as my address. That<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span> -was in the days of youth and high spirits. But there comes a -moment in the experience of all of us when the taste for adventure -is satiated, when we are no longer eager to sit under -the charioteer of the sun, and snatch a fearful joy from sharp -corners and a sudden congestion of the traffic. So when the -decisive moment came for me I dropped the hansom and took -up with the growler. I remember that my first appearance in -that staid and unambitious vehicle excited a certain amount of -feeling amongst my old friends the hansom cabmen. There -were letters of remonstrance. One correspondent, as genial a -humorist as Gentleman Joe, hinted that to be seen in a growler -was equivalent to being dead, and I think he offered to paint -my epitaph on the back. I must say that I am very comfortable -in a growler, except when the bottom drops out almost as -suddenly as if it were a gold mine. That accident once happened -to a friend of mine whose professional business compelled -him to make a quick change of dress in the cab, and as it was -a light summer evening the passers-by were astonished to see a -pair of white legs running under the vehicle, and not apparently -connected with the horse.”</p> - -<p>Again a pleasant sketch: “Taking them as a body, the -cabmen are as industrious and deserving a class as you can -find in the community. There still lingers amongst them, -perhaps, some of the old spirit which prompted the cabmen to -expostulate rather forcibly with Mr. Pickwick. And considering -the vast area in which these public servants have to work, and -the elasticity of the four-mile radius in the minds of some -citizens, the friction is surprisingly small. Not a few of us -have known cabmen whom we held in special regard. There -was one affable driver that I invited to the Lyceum, giving him -the money for admission. The next time I saw him I said, -‘Well, and how did you like the play?’ He hesitated for a -moment, choosing, as I thought, the most grateful words to -express his pleasure and admiration, and then he said, ‘Well, -sir, I didn’t go.’ ‘You didn’t go! Why not?’ ‘Well, sir, -you see, there’s the missus, and she preferred the Waxworks.’</p> - -<p>“A friend of mine, a great ornament of the medical profession, -used to tell a story of the cabman who drove him regularly -on his rounds for some years, and always spoke of him with -affectionate familiarity by his Christian name. The time came -for the rising surgeon to set up a brougham, and with much<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span> -reluctance he broke this news to his good friend the cabby, -who responded with cheerful alacrity, ‘Oh, you’re going to get -rid of me, are you? Not a bit of it—I’ll drive that brougham.’ -And drive it he did, till he became too old and infirm for the -duty. ‘Ah, well, I must give it up,’ he said one day; ‘I ain’t -fit for it any longer.’ ‘Dear me,’ said the doctor, in great concern, -‘I am very sorry, very sorry indeed. And what are you -going to do?’ ‘What am I going to do? What are <em>you</em> going -to do for me? Don’t you fear—I’ll never leave you!’ And -he spent the rest of his days on a pension. That story has -always seemed to me to put the spirit of charity and goodwill -in a thoroughly practical light. You can scarcely get through -life in this town without a sense of your dependence on cabby’s -skill and endurance, and with as grateful an obligation to him -as that of the voyager to the pilot amidst the reefs in a storm. -In this labyrinth of London, it is rare for cabby not to know -his way. I have never ceased to wonder at the cabman’s -dexterity of eye and hand—unrivalled, I venture to say, in any -other capital in Europe. And when you consider how small -is the proportion of accidents in this vast business of locomotion, -you may cheerfully grant that cabby has some claim upon -your respect and generosity.”</p> - -<p>I think the whole “key” of this is admirably appropriate, -and the touch of the lightest.<a id="FNanchor_61" href="#Footnote_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a></p> - -<p>At dinners and meetings he often glides into lively recollections -of his early days, related in an unaffected style, as when, -not long since, he told his lieges at Bristol: “My recollections -of Bristol carry me back to the days when my father -told me stirring tales of the great Bristol Riots, which had -brought him the honours of a special constable. I think I -wanted to grow up to be a special constable too, and I had -great hopes that Bristol would kindly become sufficiently riotous -to favour that ambition. But I also had a turn for natural -history, and it is indelibly stamped upon my memory that on -one occasion, when I was about four years old, I made a little<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span> -excursion by myself from St. James’s Barton to Redcliffe Street -in order to study a stag’s head which projected as a sign from -a certain house, where I was found by my anxious mother -peacefully contemplating the head of the antlered beast and -wondering why on earth he smelt so strongly of tallow. It -was soon after this incident that I witnessed a great event in -the history of Bristol, the launching of the steamship <i>Great -Britain</i>. There was a vast throng of people to see this mighty -vessel, but the one thing which monopolized my attention was -the moustache of Prince Albert, who presided over the ceremony. -I was fired by an unquenchable longing to possess a -similar ornament, and I consulted a friend of mine, a chemist, -who kept a particular brand of acid-drops which I patronized -at that time, and who consented to make a moustache for me. -It was a long business, and when I impatiently inquired how -it was getting on, he used to explain that he was growing it -somewhere at the back of his shop. Well, one day I demanded -it with an imperious energy which was not to be resisted, so he -put me on a chair and adorned my upper lip with burnt cork, -with which I went home feeling much elated, though a little -disturbed by the demonstrations of the juvenile public on the -way. I have sometimes wondered whether it was that burnt -cork—the earliest of the rites in honour of Thespis—which -gave my career the bent that has brought me among you to-day. -If my distinguished colleague, Miss Ellen Terry, were -here, she could tell you many stories of the Bristol Theatre, in -which I may almost say she was cradled.”</p> - -<p class="tb">Such is an imperfect picture of a really remarkable man, -who has left a deep impression on his contemporaries. It was -lately written of him by one not always inclined to be partial -to him: “We find the quality of nobility to be the keynote of -his character. No one ever accused him of a mean or low -act. His instincts are, to use a word that has been often -applied to them, ‘princely.’ He has in him that curious combination -of gentleness and dignity which used to be called -‘the grand style.’ Without being tortuous in his methods, he -is instinctively diplomatic, and there are suggestions of delicacy, -almost of asceticism, in his physique, which convey an impression -of refinement and possible self-denial.” Such a character -as this given of some stranger unknown would irresistibly -attract and make us eager to know him. And the author of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span> -animated pictures of society in the various capitals adds these -touches: “Whatever he does is done on a great, even a grand, -scale, and done without ostentation, without violating any of the -laws of good taste. His figure is interesting, and not wanting -in distinction. His manner is polished and gentle; his voice, -off the stage, always agreeable, and his style peculiarly -winning.”</p> - -<p class="titlepage">THE END</p> - -<p class="titlepage smaller">BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak">FOOTNOTES</h2> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> Long after, in his prosperity, he recalled to American listeners an -excellent piece of advice given him by this actress. He was speaking of -the invaluable practice of revealing thoughts in the face before giving them -utterance, where, he said, it “will be found that the most natural, the most -seemingly accidental, effects are obtained when the working of the mind is -seen before the tongue gives its words. This lesson was enjoined on me -when I was a very young man by that remarkable actress, Charlotte Cushman. -I remember that when she played Meg Merrilies I was cast for -Henry Bertram, on the principle, seemingly, that an actor with no singing -voice is admirably fitted for a singing part. It was my duty to give Meg -Merrilies a piece of money, and I did it after the traditional fashion by -handing her a large purse full of coin of the realm, in the shape of broken -crockery, which was generally used in financial transactions on the stage, -because when the virtuous maiden rejected with scorn the advances of the -lordly libertine, and threw his pernicious bribe upon the ground, the clatter -of the broken crockery suggested fabulous wealth. But after the play, -Miss Cushman, in the course of some kindly advice, said to me, ‘Instead of -giving me that purse, don’t you think it would have been much more natural -if you had taken a number of coins from your pocket and given me the -smallest? That is the way one gives alms to a beggar, and it would have -added greatly to the realism of the scene.’ I have never forgotten that -lesson.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> It is not surprising that many more should have been found to claim -the credit of “discovering” Henry Irving. Mr. W. Reeve writes: “A long -talk again with Miss Herbert. As I have two theatres on my hands and a -company, decided not to go. She seemed very disappointed; asked me -what she should do. Thought of Henry Irving, who followed me in Manchester; -advised her to write to Mr. Chambers; promised to do so as -well, if engaged, for Mr. Knowles to release him. Wrote to Chambers -about Irving.” All which, as I know from the best authority, is somewhat -imaginative. The engagement was entirely owing to Boucicault.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> Related in one of his conversations with Mr. Joseph Hatton. I have -heard Mr. Walter Lacy describe the modest, grateful fashion in which our -actor received some hints given him at rehearsal by this old and experienced -performer as to the playing of his part.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[4]</a> I may be allowed to refer those who would learn the importance of -this agent of “facial expression” to a little treatise of my own, <cite>The Art -of Acting</cite>—lecture at the Royal Institution, where it is fully discussed.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[5]</a> Of this night, my friend Mr. Arthur A’Beckett has recently recalled -some memories: “All the dramatic critics were assembled. John Oxenford—kindest -of men and ripest of scholars—for the <cite>Times</cite>, E. L. Blanchard -for the <cite>Daily Telegraph</cite>, John Hollingshead (still amongst us), the predecessor -of my good friend Moy Thomas of the <cite>Daily News</cite>, Leicester -Buckingham for the <cite>Morning Star</cite>, Desmond Ryan (I think) for the <cite>Standard</cite>, -Heraud for the <cite>Illustrated London News</cite>, Tomlins or Richard Lee for -the Advertiser, and Joseph Knight (again one of our veterans) for the -<cite>Sunday Times</cite>. There were others—Clement Scott, W. S. Gilbert, Andrew -Halliday, Tom Robertson, Harry Leigh, Jeff Prowse, Tom Hood—all -members of the Savage Club in the days before clay-pipes went out of -fashion. We were assembled to see a new piece by Dion Boucicault, then -one of the most prolific of dramatists. Well, we were waiting for the -curtain to draw up on the first act of the new play. It was called ‘Hunted -Down,’ and it was buzzed in the stalls that Dion had picked up a very -clever young actor in the provinces, who, after a short career in town, had -made his mark in Manchester. He was called Henry Irving. Then there -was another comparatively new name on the bills—Ada Dyas. The piece -had a strong plot, and was fairly successful; but, assisted by the title, I -believe it was a fight against long odds. A repentant woman ‘with a past’ -was hunted down. I fancy Miss Herbert (one of the most charming -actresses that ever trod the boards) was the ‘woman with the past,’ and -that it was she who was ‘hunted down.’ But, although my impressions -of the play are vague and blurred, I can see Henry Irving as the most -admirable villain—cool, calm, and implacable—and Ada Dyas as his -suffering wife. They stand before me as I write, two distinct figures. Of -the rest of the piece, I repeat, I remember next to nothing.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[6]</a> At this time I happened to be living in Dublin, and recall with pleasure -the comedian’s striking face and figure, and the entertainment that he imparted. -Once buying a newspaper in a shop that was close by the fine old -Theatre Royal, since destroyed by fire, a “characteristical” pair entered, -whom I recognised from having seen them on the stage. I was particularly -struck with the pale, well-marked features, the black flowing hair, the dress of -correct black, the whole very much suggesting Nicholas Nickleby, or some -other of Dickens’ “walking gentlemen.” There was something strangely -attractive about him, and a courteous, kindly tone to the owner of the shop -as he made his purchase. When the pair had departed the lady’s tongue -“grew wanton in his praise.” “Oh, but Mr. Irving,” she said enthusiastically, -“he is the <em>one</em>; a perfect gentleman! Every morning he comes in -to buy his newspaper, and he do speak so <em>nicely</em>. I <em>do</em> think he is a charming -young man,” etc.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[7]</a> The good-looking Montague, following the invariable development, -seceded from the management and set up a theatre for himself. This not -proving successful, he went to America, where he died early.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">[8]</a> It has been stated, I know not with what truth, that he was engaged -at a salary of £15 a week, which was raised on the success of ‘The Bells’ -to £35.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">[9]</a> Originally the piece opened with the second act, and the manager was -said to have exclaimed: “Oh, bother politics! give us <em>some domestic business</em>.” -This led to the introduction of the tranquil, pastoral scene at -Hampton Court. The closing scene, as devised by the author, represented -the capture of the king on the field of battle. “Won’t do,” said the -“Colonel” bluntly; “must wind up with <em>another</em> domestic act.” Sorely -perplexed by this requirement, which they felt was correct, both author -and actor tried many expedients without success, until one evening, towards -the small hours, the manager, who appeared to be dozing in his chair, -suddenly called out: “Look at the last act of ‘Black-eyed Susan,’ with -the prayer-book, chain, and all.” All which may be legendary, and I give -it for what it is worth.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">[10]</a> I recall the manager’s complacent anticipation of the success of his -<i lang="fr">coup</i>. “Clayton,” he said, “was a clever, spirited fellow, and would assuredly -make a hit in the part.” He certainly played respectably, and made -up by earnestness what he lacked in other points. He was particularly -proud of his own “make up.” But his inharmonious voice was against -him, and it was impossible to “take him” seriously.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="label">[11]</a> “<em>Lyceum.—Charles I., Mr. Henry Irving.</em> The profound admiration -that has been manifested by all classes (for the past four months) in this -noble poetic play, and the unqualified approval bestowed by the most -illustrious auditors upon Mr. Henry Irving’s great creation of the martyr-king, -have marked a new era in public taste. The manager is proud to be -able to announce that the immense audiences nightly assembled render any -change in the performances impossible.—<em>Miss Isabel Bateman</em>, in her -tender and exquisitely pathetic portraiture of Queen Henrietta Maria.—<em>Mr. -George Belmore</em>, in his vigorous and masterly assumption of Oliver Cromwell.” -Thus the modern Elliston.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="label">[12]</a> I have seen in an old criticism a notice of a leading performer who -in similar fashion “condescended”—so it was phrased—to the part of the -Ghost, and whose impersonation was declared to be “more than usually -<em>gentlemanlike and reputable</em>.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="label">[13]</a> Old Cibber thus grumbled at Garrick’s rise, and other quidnuncs at -Kemble’s; and when Edward Kean came, there was the old prompter, who, -when asked his opinion if he were not equal to Kemble, said: “Very -clever young man indeed, very clever; but Lord bless you, sir, Mr. -Kemble <em>was a different thing altogether</em>.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14" class="label">[14]</a> I have a vast collection of these things, filling some fourteen great -folio volumes—an extraordinary tribute to the actor’s success.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15" class="label">[15]</a> At the close of the performance, Mr. Chippendale presented to him -the sword used by Kean when playing Richard. Later a friend gave him -“the George,” which the great actor also wore in the part. Lady Burdett-Coutts, -always one of his great admirers, added Garrick’s ring, “in recognition -of the gratification derived from his Shakespeare representations, -uniting to many characteristics of his great predecessors in histrionic art -(whom he is too young to remember) the charm of original thought.” I -may add that I was the medium of conveying to Irving Macready’s dress -as Virginius, at the request of Mrs. John Forster, to whose husband it had -been given by the great tragedian, with the accompanying “tinfoil -dagger” with which he used to immolate Virginia.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_16" href="#FNanchor_16" class="label">[16]</a> One night, during the performance of ‘Hamlet,’ something was thrown -from the gallery on to the stage. It fell into the orchestra, and for a time -could not be found. A sad-looking working-woman called at the stage-door -to ask about it, and was glad to learn it was found. It was only a -cheap, common thing. “I often go to the gallery,” she said, “and I wanted -Mr. Irving to have this. I wanted him alone in the world to possess it.” -“This,” he added, telling the story, “is the little trinket which I wear on -my watch-chain.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_17" href="#FNanchor_17" class="label">[17]</a> Her valedictory address ran: “Mrs. Bateman begs to announce that -her tenancy of the Lyceum Theatre terminates with the present month. -For seven years it has been associated with the name she bears. During -the three years and a half that the business management has been under -her special control, the liberal patronage of the public has enabled her to -wind up the affairs of each successive season with a profit. During this -period ‘Macbeth’ was produced for the first time in London without -interpolation from Middleton’s ‘Witch.’ Tennyson’s first play, ‘Queen -Mary,’ was given; and Shakespeare’s ‘King Richard III.,’ for the first time -in London from the original text. Mrs. Bateman’s lease has been transferred -to Mr. Henry Irving, to whose attraction as an artist the prosperity -of the theatre is entirely attributable, and she confidently hopes that under -his care it may attain higher artistic distinction and complete prosperity. -In conclusion, Mrs. Bateman ventures to express her gratitude for the -kindness and generosity extended to her by the public—kindness that has -overlooked many shortcomings, and generosity that has enabled her to -faithfully carry out all her obligations to the close of her tenancy.—Lyceum, -August 31, 1878.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_18" href="#FNanchor_18" class="label">[18]</a> It was built in 1830, so it is now over sixty-five years of age. The -lease, held from Lord Exeter, has not many years to run—some twenty -or so, I believe.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_19" href="#FNanchor_19" class="label">[19]</a> He was described by a friend as “always just arrived by the mail in -time to see the fish removed, or as going off by the early coach after the -last dance at four in the morning.” He wrote his own epitaph—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Here lies Samuel Beazely,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Who lived hard and died easily.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_20" href="#FNanchor_20" class="label">[20]</a> The actress is of a genuinely theatrical family. Readers of Scott’s Life -will recall the clever, industrious Terry, who was long connected with the -Edinburgh stage, and had himself adapted so many of the Scott novels. -Miss Terry’s father was also long connected with the Edinburgh stage; her -three sisters, her brother, her two children, have all found their way to the -“boards.” Even the precocious child performer, Minnie Terry, is different -from other prodigy children, and imparts a distinction to what is usually a -disagreeable sort of exhibition. I take from the pages of <cite>The Theatre</cite> the -following minute account of Miss Terry’s career:—“Miss Ellen Terry was -born at Coventry on February 27, 1848. Her first appearance on the stage -was made at the Princess’s Theatre, under the management of Mr. Charles -Kean, on April 28, 1856. On October 15 of the same year she appeared -as Puck in the revival of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream.’ In Mr. Kean’s -production of ‘King John,’ on October 18, 1858, she acted the part of -Arthur. She next appeared at the Royalty and Haymarket Theatres, and -at the latter house she played in ‘Much Ado About Nothing.’ In March, -1863, she acted Gertrude in ‘The Little Treasure,’ at the Haymarket. -She then acted at the Queen’s Theatre in Long Acre, where, on October 24, -1867, she sustained the character of Rose de Beaurepaire in ‘The Double -Marriage,’ also in ‘Still Waters Run Deep’; and, on December 26 of the same -year she acted for the first time with Mr. Henry Irving, playing Katherine -to his Petruchio in ‘The Taming of the Shrew.’ Miss Terry then retired -from the stage for some years, reappearing on February 28, 1874, at the -Queen’s Theatre, as Philippa Chester in ‘The Wandering Heir.’ On -April 18 of the same year she acted Susan Merton in ‘It’s Never Too Late -to Mend,’ at Astley’s Theatre, a performance which the <cite>Daily News</cite> thought -worthy of ‘especial mention.’ Miss Terry’s first ‘hit,’ however, was made -in April, 1875, when she acted Portia in ‘The Merchant of Venice,’ at the -Prince of Wales’s Theatre. At the same theatre, in May following, she -acted Clara Douglas in ‘Money’; and on August 7, 1875, she appeared at -the Princess’s Theatre, for one night only, as Pauline in ‘The Lady of -Lyons.’ In November following she acted Mabel Vane in ‘Masks and -Faces’; and in May, 1876, she played Blanche Haye in ‘Ours,’ at the -Prince of Wales’s Theatre. Going to the Court Theatre, in the autumn of -the same year, she appeared in ‘The House of Darnley,’ and represented -Lilian Vavaseur in ‘New Men and Old Acres.’”—Her first appearance was -not in 1856, as so many have set down, but in 1854. This was in the part -of one of the young princes “murdered in the Tower,” though it has been -often stated that the part was the child one of Mamilius in ‘The Winter’s -Tale.’ This was ascertained by my late friend Dutton Cook, one of the -most painstaking and accurate of men.</p> - -<p>Two rival houses in Coventry at this moment claim to be her birthplace. -A greengrocer, at No. 5, Market Street, displays a plate or placard, announcing -that she was born in his house: while a haberdasher, at No. 26, -over the way, protests that “This house is the original birthplace of Miss -Ellen Terry, <em>and no other</em>. Observe the name, <em>Terry House</em>.” Two other -householders make the same claim. But an “old nurse” declares for No. 5.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_21" href="#FNanchor_21" class="label">[21]</a> Time moves so quickly on that many will have forgotten that the -popular writer Pinero, whose dramatic works are now in such demand, -was at this time an obscure, painstaking actor, and one of the first to take -service in Irving’s <i lang="fr">corps</i>. By-and-by he brought the manager some slight -pieces, such as ‘Daisy’s Escape,’ to serve as <i lang="fr">levers de rideau</i>. These were -neatly written and full of spirit. He thus practised his pen, and, as the -stage was of large size, had to aim at broad, bold effects, a treatment which -has been of material service in his more formal pieces. To his efforts as -an actor we can scarcely extend the admiration we have for his writings; -and his performance of Sir Peter Teazle at the Haymarket was a strange, -wonderful thing.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_22" href="#FNanchor_22" class="label">[22]</a> Amiable and forbearing as Irving has always shown himself to his -subordinates, he can be resolute in seeing that what he wishes or wants is -carried out. Schemes of scenery found available on trial have again and -again been condemned because they failed to bring about the effect desired. -This, however, is the secret of the unity and homogeneousness of his productions. -It is admitted that even in the matter of the elaborate orchestral -music, which we might fancy he would leave to the professors, he has much -to say and alter. It may strike him as not being suited to the situation. -Fresh experiments will have to be made, to be also set aside, to the despair -of the composer. Then the <i lang="fr">difficile</i> manager will be heard to attempt, -vocally, some rude outline of what he desires, and this rude suggestion the -ready musician will grasp and put into shape, and it will be agreed <i lang="la">nem. -con.</i> that somehow this last attempt suits the situation exactly. This sense -of perfect propriety <i lang="la">in omnibus</i> is a “note” of our manager’s character.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_23" href="#FNanchor_23" class="label">[23]</a> Once, at Edinburgh, during a performance of ‘The Merchant of -Venice,’ the students of the University had been very tumultuous, and -scarcely a word was heard of the first scenes. Suddenly the drop-scene -descended, and the actor appeared. There was silence when, with perfect -good-humour and firmness, he said that, owing to some misunderstanding, -the first portion of the piece had not been heard by the audience, and that -he was now going to recommence the whole from the beginning. And so -it was done.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_24" href="#FNanchor_24" class="label">[24]</a> Arthur Matthison, a quaint, clever American, who had written some -successful dramas, was chosen to play “the double” of the leading actor: -that is, after passing behind the “practicable” tree, he was to emerge, -taking care to keep his back to the audience. Unluckily for stage effect, -no known art will help “to dodge Nature” in such points. She has no -<em>replicas</em> in her store: makes everything distinct. And it is significant of -the strong individuality which belongs to the whole body as well as to the -face, that the eye will at once note the difference of expression in the outline -of the figure, arms, etc. I believe no two people could be found so -alike in their general appearance as to be indistinguishable—thus illustrating -the late Mr. Carlyle’s quaint phrase when speaking of someone whose -character he had interpreted unfavourably, “<em>I knew it by the twist of the -hip of him</em>.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_25" href="#FNanchor_25" class="label">[25]</a> A curious little controversy arose as to the authorship of the <cite>Ghost -Melody</cite>. It was claimed for Mr. Stöpel, who was acting as <i lang="fr">chef d’orchestre</i> -at the Théâtre Historique when the play was originally produced. Another -claim was made for Varney, author of the stirring hymn, <cite>Mourir pour la -patrie</cite>. Oddly enough, Stöpel, who was then at the Adelphi, could not be -got “to say yes or no.” “He was amused,” he said, “at the importance -attached to such a trifle, and could, if he chose, set the matter at rest in a -few words.” But he did not. Still, there used to be a pianoforte piece by -one Rosellen—a <cite>Reverie</cite>—which certainly began and went on for many -bars in the same fashion. However, a copy of the music of the <cite>Ghost -Melody</cite>, arranged for the pianoforte, and published in 1852, was unearthed, -which bore on its title the words: “Composed by M. Varney, of the -Théâtre Historique: arranged by R. Stöpel, director of the music at the -Princess’s Theatre.” This settled the point, and it explained the ambiguous -declaration of the arranger. We must assuredly give the whole credit of -this air to Varney.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_26" href="#FNanchor_26" class="label">[26]</a> One agreeable night which was spent behind the scenes enabled me to -study the admirable arrangements by which this complicated operation was -carried out with smoothness and success.</p> - -<p>No sooner has the drop-scene fallen—and a person always “stands by” -to see that the huge roller is kept clear of careless spectators—than a busy -scene sets in. Instantly men emerge from every side; the hills and banks, -the slopes leading down the hill, the steps and massive pedestal that flank -the entrance to the Temple on the right, are lifted up and disappear -gradually; the distant landscape mounts slowly into the air; the long -rows of jets are unfastened and carried off—in three or four minutes the -whole is clear. At this moment are seen slowly coming down from aloft -what appear to be three long heavy frames or beams—two in the direction -of the length, one across the whole breadth of the stage. These make a -sort of enclosure open on one side, and form the pediment or upper portion -of the Temple meant to rest on the pillars. Soon busy hands have joined -these three great joists by bolts and fastenings; the signal is given, and it -begins to ascend again. Meanwhile, others have been bringing out from -the “scene dock” pillars with their bases, and arranging them; and as the -great beams move slowly up to their place, they hoist with them the -columns, attached by ropes which pass through. By this time all the -columns are swinging in the air; another moment and they have dropped -into their places in the pedestal. The place of each pedestal is marked on -the floor. In a few moments everything is fitted and falls into its place, -with an almost martial exactness. Then are seen slowly descending the -other portions of the roof, sky-borders, etc., all falling into their places -quietly and with a sort of mysterious growth. We have glimpses in the -galleries aloft of men hauling at ropes and pulleys, or turning “drums.” -Finally the whole is set and complete, and men bear in the altars and steps -and the enormous idol at the back—over twenty feet high. It is worth -while looking close even at the sound and effective modelling of the raised -classic figures that encircle the lower portions of each column, all in good -relief, such as we see in Mr. Alma Tadema’s pictures. The variety and -richness of these are surprising, and they fairly bear a close inspection. -They are coloured, too, with that ivory tone which the older marbles -acquire. All this was wrought in the property-room, and worked in clay; -the figures were then plastered over with paper, or <i lang="fr">papier-mâché</i>, a material -invaluable to the scenic artist as furnishing relief and detail so as to catch the -lights and shadows, having the merit of being exceedingly light and portable, -of bearing rough usage and knocking about, which carved wood -would not. The idol, now looming solemnly at the back, is formed of the -same material. It is curious to find that the pillars and their capitals are -all constructed literally in the lines of perspective, as such would be drawn -on a flat surface; they diminish in height as they are farther off, and their -top and bottom surfaces are sloped in a converging line. Thus the “building” -stood revealed and complete, and round the pillars ran an open space, -enclosed as it were by the walls. What with the gloom and the general -mystery, the whole would pass, even to those standing by, as a very imposing -structure.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_27" href="#FNanchor_27" class="label">[27]</a> One morning, during the preparations, I found myself in the painting-room, -where Mr. Craven was busy with one of the interesting little models -of scenery by which the effect can be tested. The reader may not know -that the scenic artist has his model theatre, a foot or so wide, but made -“to scale.” He has also ground-plans of the stage, showing all the -exits, etc., also done to scale. By these aids the most complicated -scenes can be designed and tried. I was struck with the careful, conscientious -fashion in which the manager discussed a little Venetian scene, -rudely painted in water-colours, which had just been set. He saw it -in connection with the entrances of the actors, and was not quite satisfied -with the arrangement. He tried various devices, and proposed a gateway, -which entailed making a new design. This he suggested to the painter -with pleasant persuasion and kindly apologetic courtesy, but was, as always, -firm in his purpose. If a second experiment did not satisfy, it must be -tried again. <i lang="la">Suaviter in modo</i>, etc., is certainly his maxim.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_28" href="#FNanchor_28" class="label">[28]</a> This performer is associated with the best traditions of the good old -school; and is linked with many interesting associations. It is curious, -too, to think that he belongs, or belonged, to the Society of Friends. We -have, and have had, a good many Jews upon the stage, but a Quaker is a -rarity. When he was in America, he related the story of his life to an -inquirer: “I was attending a public school in Yorkshire. It was a Quaker -school at Ackworth, although boys not of Quaker parentage attended it. -Somehow I was always selected to recite some piece for the visitors—some -of those old pieces, you know, such as <cite>The Roman Gladiator</cite>, or -<cite>Paul before Agrippa</cite>. In this way I acquired my first liking for the stage. -One night I went with my cousin John to the Old Drury Lane Theatre to -see Kean, who was then creating a <i lang="fr">furore</i> by his magnificent acting. In -those days, you know, they sold good seats in the gallery for a shilling; so -I and my cousin Jack paid our shilling—the usual half-price—and went -into the gallery. I shall never forget that night. The playing opened, I -think, with the third act. I see Kean as plainly as if it were only yesterday. -There he sat, a small man, upon his throne in the middle of the -stage. Well, after leaving the theatre, Jack and I had to cross a bridge -on our way home. I sat down in the recess of the bridge, almost overcome -by my emotion, and said, ‘John, I am going to be an actor.’ He -tried to dissuade me, and laughed at the folly of the idea, but my mind was -made up.” One of the most striking incidents at a recent production of -‘King Lear’ was the ‘ovation,’ as it is called, which greeted the veteran -as he presented himself in a small character.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_29" href="#FNanchor_29" class="label">[29]</a> For a time the house was “on crutches,” as it is called, an operation -of considerable architectural delicacy. In the great “cellarage” below -the stage, huge storehouses filled with the rubbish of half a century, were -discovered masses of decayed peacocks’ feathers, which much perplexed -the explorers and everybody else, until it was recalled that these were the -antique “properties” used by Madame Vestris in one of her Planché -burlesques. The labour was herculean, and the indefatigable Bram Stoker -threw himself with heart and soul into the business. We might lament, -however, that the beautiful interior suffered somewhat in the later alterations. -The elegant contour was disturbed; the double pillars, which recurred -periodically in the dress tier, were reduced to a single one. The -fine entrance-hall lost its symmetry from being enlarged. But such sacrifices -are absolutely necessary, and are not the first that have had to be made under -“the form and pressure of the time.” The alterations cost a very large -sum indeed, but our manager has always been an improving tenant, and -has periodically laid out vast sums on the improvement and decoration of -his house.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_30" href="#FNanchor_30" class="label">[30]</a> Mr. Labouchere, a shrewd observer, a friend and admirer of the actor’s -abilities, always speaks out his opinions in plain, blunt terms: “An actor -must, in order to win popularity, have mannerisms, and the more peculiar -they are, the greater will be his popularity. No one can for a moment -suppose that Mr. Irving could not speak distinctly, progress about the -stage after the fashion of human beings, and stand still without balancing -to and fro if he pleased. Yet, had he not done all this, he would—notwithstanding -that there is a touch of real genius about his acting sometimes—never -have made the mark that he has. He is, indeed, to the stage -what Lord Beaconsfield was to politics. That exceedingly able man never -could utter the resonant clap-trap in which he so often indulged, and which -made men talk about him, without almost showing by his manner that he -himself despised the tricks which gave him individuality. Were Mr. Irving -at present to abate his peculiarities, his fervent worshippers would complain -that their idol was sinking into mere common-place. Therefore, as I sincerely -hope that, for his sake, the idolaters will continue to bow down -before him and fill his treasury, I trust that he will never change.” There -is a cynical flavour in this, and it is not very flattering to the audience, but -underlying it there is some truth.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_31" href="#FNanchor_31" class="label">[31]</a> A rapturous article from a Liverpool critic, Mr. Russell, had appeared -in <cite>Macmillan’s Magazine</cite>, which was, indeed, somewhat indiscriminating in -its praises of the Lyceum ‘Romeo and Juliet.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_32" href="#FNanchor_32" class="label">[32]</a> Mr. Forbes Robertson, who is painter as well as actor, depicted this -striking scene on canvas, giving portraits of the performers. It has been -engraved (or rather “processed”) with very happy result.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_33" href="#FNanchor_33" class="label">[33]</a> It was an unusual tribute to the interest excited in every direction by -the actor’s personality, that in the December of this year the lady students -at University College should have chosen him for the subject of a formal -debate, under the presidency of the clever Miss Fawcett. The thesis set -down was, “That Henry Irving has, by his dramatic genius, earned his -place as foremost among living actors,” and the discussion was begun with -much spirit and fluency by Miss Rees, who proceeded to give an analysis -of his Hamlet and other characters, contending that his extraordinary -<em>success</em> was a proof of his merit. The opposition was led by Mrs. Brooksbanks, -who fairly and unsparingly attacked the actor for his mannerisms -and various defects. After a reply from Miss Rees, the original motion -was put to the ladies, and was carried by a slender majority. The actor -must have read these proceedings, which were flattering enough, with much -enjoyment.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_34" href="#FNanchor_34" class="label">[34]</a> An idea of what a “tremendous” business this was may be gathered -from a single detail. A well-known experienced wigmaker from Covent -Garden, with two assistants, was engaged to look after the <i lang="fr">coiffures</i> of the -company, and these “artists in hair” had under their charge a collection -of wigs, entirely new, no fewer than eleven hundred in number. On a -later visit there were fifteen hundred wigs!</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_35" href="#FNanchor_35" class="label">[35]</a> Where it now hangs over the chimneypiece in the Guests’ Room. It -is not so successful as many others of Millais’ works; it is rather sketchily -painted, and lacks force and expression. The late Mr. Long painted -the actor as Hamlet and Richard III. These are not very striking performances, -but they are refined and interesting portraits. Mr. Whistler -produced an extraordinary one of him as Philip II., strangely “shadowy” -but powerful, and of preternatural length. A number of artists of less pretension -have also essayed to limn the actor; but all have failed to sketch -the mobile, delicate expression of the lips. Boldly daring, I myself have -fashioned a bust of him in terra-cotta.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_36" href="#FNanchor_36" class="label">[36]</a> It is said that the origin of the acquaintance between Irving and this -statesman was an accidental encounter in the street, when the latter, with -a sympathetic impulsiveness, stopped Irving and introduced himself. He -has since been an assiduous frequenter of the Lyceum, and in his eighty-third -year was seen in the stalls or behind the scenes, following the course -of ‘Henry VIII.’ with unabated interest.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_37" href="#FNanchor_37" class="label">[37]</a> These newspapers were sent to me without interruption through the -whole tour by Irving’s direction.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_38" href="#FNanchor_38" class="label">[38]</a> A description of a “first-night” at the Clement Street Opera House is -worth quoting here:</p> - -<p>“Ladies took their place in line and waited for hours to get tickets for -the opening performance. The face of the tall and genial Bram Stoker, -Mr. Irving’s agent, wore a broad smile as, standing in the vestibule, he -noticed the swelling crowd passing between the continually swinging doors. -The array of regular first-nighters was up to the notch, and all the familiar -faces, not only those most looked for with the lorgnettes, but those that -vanish between the acts, were there. Tall Tom Donaldson, one of Blaine’s -lieutenants, whose wife and daughter were in one of the boxes, was leaning -against the wall talking to Judge William Haydon, formerly of Nevada, -one of the oldest theatre-goers in the United States, who saw Edmund -Kean play Hamlet, and thinks Irving the best actor he has seen since. -Joseph F. Tobias, ruddy, genial, and Chesterfieldian as ever, was shaking -hands at every turn, and L. Clark Davis, in immaculate evening dress and -pearl studs, but with the inevitable Bohemian hat, was the centre of a -chatty group. Charles E. Cramp and Horace Warding were talking to -Dr. Thomas H. Andrews, who has the largest theatrical practice of any -physician in Philadelphia, and has been called to attend half the stars who -have appeared here in recent years. Almost every well-known first-nighter -was on hand, and the invariable sentiment was that this was the big event -of the present year. There were many well-known people who are not -often seen at the theatre, notably Daniel M. Fox, Director of the Mint, -who sat in the centre aisle, near the stage, with a party of friends, and -appeared to enjoy the performance very much. Just back of him was a -large party from Bethlehem, Pa. John R. Jones, the Bible publisher, had -with him Miss Jones, in a stunning gray imported costume, one of the most -artistic in the theatre. Robert W. Downing had quite a party. There -were several large theatrical parties. The most noticeable was the one -given by Miss K. N. Green, which included many attractive ladies. Ex-Attorney-General -Brewster was the centre of quite a large party in the -orchestra, including several ladies. A very beautiful bevy was the party -given by Miss Hattie Fox, daughter of George S. Fox, which numbered -thirty-five. They all had seats in the orchestra circle. Some of the most -fashionable people had to be content with seats upstairs, and there was one -party of young ladies in the family circle who were in full dress and went -direct in carriages, at the close of the performance, to the dancing-class.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_39" href="#FNanchor_39" class="label">[39]</a> When the piece was first given at the Court Theatre, there was a bit -of realism that was almost too conscientious. The little family music was -accompanied on a genuine old harpsichord, which, it was gravely announced -in the bill, was actually dated 1768, about the period of the novel, and was -of course, “kindly lent” by the owner.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_40" href="#FNanchor_40" class="label">[40]</a> It is but fair to add that Mr. Conway was suffering from the approach -of a serious illness, which declared itself shortly after.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_41" href="#FNanchor_41" class="label">[41]</a> I recall a Sunday morning during this visit, when a message arrived -from the manager asking me to join a festive party to Dorking, to which -he had invited some members of the French comedy. At the Garrick Club, -the favourite coach, “Old Times,” was waiting, and presently it was -“Buzz!—here come the players.” A delightful drive it was, and a truly -enjoyable day. There was Mounet Sully, the fervent stage lover—then, it -was whispered, the prey of a hopeless attachment to the gifted “Sarah”—the -<i lang="fr">spirituel</i> Delaunay, still a <i lang="fr">jeune premier</i> in spite of his years; with two -or three others of the <i lang="fr">corps</i>. Of the party were also my friend Mr. Walter -Pollock, with his genial, well-cultured father, the late Sir Frederick; -Campbell Clarke, French correspondent to the <cite>Daily Telegraph</cite>, and some -other <i lang="fr">littérateurs</i>. There was the drive down to the inviting little town, -with a lunch at the old inn, some wanderings about its leafy lanes, and a -return in the evening to the club, where the host gave a banquet, at which -speeches in French and English were delivered. The interesting strangers -took away with them the lasting impression that he was “truly a sympathetic -personage, with a great deal of French grace and <i lang="fr">bonhomie</i> in his -nature.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_42" href="#FNanchor_42" class="label">[42]</a> This also seemed rather unintelligible to the audience; but its secret -was the secret of the creator or originator of the part. Such devices are -really significant of something dramatic that has actually prompted them; -they become an expression. The revived “business,” therefore, will not -serve unless the original spirit attends it. This squeaking snuff-box was a -note of <i lang="fr">diablerie</i>, introduced with strange sudden spasms at unexpected -moments, and corresponded to the twitches and spasms of Macaire’s mind. -For the manager I collected much of old Lemaître’s business, with those -curious chants with which the robber carried off his villainies. Jingle and -Job Trotter were certainly modelled on Macaire and his man; for the -piece was being played as <cite>Pickwick</cite> came out.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_43" href="#FNanchor_43" class="label">[43]</a> We may at least admire this writer’s perseverance and intrepidity, -who from that time has never relaxed his efforts to win the approbation or -secure the attention of the public. One could have wished him better -success with his later venture and most ambitious attempt, the management -of the Avenue Theatre, where he introduced his own piece illustrative of -“modern English Life,” with which his critics—for whom, like the sapper, -nothing is sacred—made merry. He is not likely to be daunted by this, -and I have little doubt he will “arrive” at last.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_44" href="#FNanchor_44" class="label">[44]</a> The quaint name of this club, “the Kerneuzers,” was suggested by a -simple attendant, who actually so described the members; it was his pronunciation -of the word “connoisseurs.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_45" href="#FNanchor_45" class="label">[45]</a> Once, when visiting Stratford-on-Avon with Toole, he saw a rustic -sitting on a fence, whom they submitted to an interrogatory. “That’s -Shakespeare’s house, isn’t it?” it was asked innocently. “Ees.” “Ever -been there?” “Noä.” “How long has he been dead?” “Dunno.” -“What did he do?” “Dunno.” “Did he not write?” “Oh yes, he -did summat.” “What was it?” “Well, I think he writ <cite>Boible</cite>.” A -pleasantry that both the players once contrived in Scotland, at the expense -of an old waiter at a hotel, is of a higher order of merit than such hoaxes -usually offer. At this country inn they had noted that the spoons, forks, -etc., seemed to be of silver, and with some artfully designed emphasis they -questioned the waiter about the property. As soon as he had gone out, they -concealed all the plate, and, having rung the bell, jumped out of the -window, which was close to the ground, and hid themselves in the shrubbery. -The old man re-entered: they heard his cries of rage and -astonishment at the robbery, and at the disappearance of the supposed -thieves. He then rushed from the room to summon the household. The -rest of the story is worth giving in Irving’s words, as reported by Mr. -Hatton.</p> - -<p>“We all crept back to the room, closed the window, drew down the -blind, relighted the gas and our cigars, put each piece of silver back into its -proper place, and sat down to wait for our bill. In a few minutes we -heard evidently the entire household coming pell-mell to the dining-room. -Then our door was flung open; but the crowd, instead of rushing in upon -us, suddenly paused <i lang="fr">en masse</i>, and Sandy exclaimed, ‘Great God! Weel, -weel! Hae I just gane clean daft?’</p> - -<p>“‘Come awa’, drunken foo’, come awa’!’ exclaimed the landlord, pulling -Sandy and the rest back into the passage and shutting the door.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_46" href="#FNanchor_46" class="label">[46]</a> Quite a number of relics of great actors have, as we have already -shown, found their way to Irving’s custody; and there is always something -pleasant for him to think of when he recalls the presentation. Thus on -his visit to Oxford he had spoken of the last days of Edmund Kean, who -had died in sore straits. A few days later he received a purse of faded -green silk found in the pocket of the great actor just after his death, and -found empty. It had been given by Charles Kean to John Forster, and by -him to Robert Browning. Edmund and Charles Kean, Forster, Browning, -and Irving form a remarkable pedigree. “How can I more worthily place -it,” wrote Browning, “than in your hands, if they will do me the honour -to take it, with all respect and regard?”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_47" href="#FNanchor_47" class="label">[47]</a> One of these many “snappers-up of trifles” described the nightgown -worn by Lady Macbeth in her sleep-walking scene, which was all of wool -knitted into a pretty design. Mrs. Comyns Carr designed Miss Terry’s -dresses, which certainly did not lack bold originality. There was the -curious peacock blue and malachite green dress which contrasted with the -locks of copper-coloured hair, from which the half American artist, Mr. -Serjeant, formed a striking but not very pleasing portrait.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_48" href="#FNanchor_48" class="label">[48]</a> It was likely that the majority of these persons were incapacitated by -age from forming a judgment on this matter; but it was curious that I -should have conversed with two persons at least who were capable of -making the comparison. One was Mr. Fladgate of the Garrick Club, a -most interesting man, well stored with anecdotes of Kemble, Kean, and -others, who once, in the library of the club, gave me a vivid delineation -of the good John’s methods in ‘The Stranger.’ The other was Mr. Charles -Villiers, who is, at the moment I write, in about his ninetieth year. A -most characteristic incident was a letter from the veteran Mrs. Keeley, with -much generous criticism of Miss Terry’s performance, thus showing none -of the old narrow spirit which can only “praise bygone days.” She -frankly added that until visiting the Lyceum she had never witnessed a -performance of the play from one end to the other, though she had seen -many a great performer in it, and had herself performed in it. This recalls -Mrs. Pritchard, one of the great Lady Macbeths, who, as Dr. Johnson -said, had never seen the fifth act, as it did not fall within her part.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_49" href="#FNanchor_49" class="label">[49]</a> Charles Reade’s strange, odd appreciation of this gifted, mercurial -woman is worth preserving:</p> - -<p>“Ellen Terry is an enigma. Her eyes are pale, her nose rather long, -her mouth nothing particular, complexion a delicate brick-dust, her hair -rather like tow. Yet, somehow, she is <em>beautiful</em>. Her expression <em>kills</em> any -pretty face you see beside her. Her figure is lean and bony, her hand -masculine in size and form. Yet she is a pattern of fawn-like grace. -Whether in movement or repose, grace <em>pervades the hussy</em>. In character -impulsive, intelligent, weak, hysterical—in short, all that is abominable -and charming in woman. Ellen Terry is a very charming actress. I see -through and through her. Yet she pleases me all the same. <em>Little Duck!</em>”</p> - -<p>This suggests the old rhyme:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Thou hast so many pleasing, teazing ways about thee,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">There’s no living with thee or without thee.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_50" href="#FNanchor_50" class="label">[50]</a> It was interesting to note, at a St. James’s Hall performance, June 25, -the pleasant, eager vivacity of the actress, who, familiar as she was with -the play, seemed to be repeating with her lips all the portions in which she -was not concerned. In the more dramatic portions, it was plain she was -eager to be on the scene once more. As she sat she anxiously waited for -the orchestra to come in at their proper places, sometimes giving them the -signal. This very natural behaviour interested everyone.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_51" href="#FNanchor_51" class="label">[51]</a> Another play was written for him on the subject of ‘Mahomet,’ -which he was inclined to bring out; but here again authority interposed, -and “invited him,” as the French so politely have it, to abandon his -purpose. It was at the end of the summer season of 1879 that our manager, -after naming these pieces, spoke of others which he had in reserve, either -revivals or wholly new ones. It is interesting to think that he had thought -of the stormy and pathetic ‘Gamester,’ which has ever an absorbing attraction; -‘The Stranger’ also was spoken of; but their treatment would have -offered too many points of similarity to Eugene Aram and other characters -of “inspissated gloom.” On this occasion, when speaking of “the -romantic and pathetic story” of Emmett, he announced a drama on the -subject of Rienzi, which his friend Wills had prepared for him, but which -has never yet seen the light. Years have rolled by swiftly since that night, -and the author has often been heard to bewail the delays and impediments -which hindered the production of what he no doubt considered his finest -performance. Another great drama long promised and long due is ‘Coriolanus,’ -for which Mr. Alma Tadema has designed scenery.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_52" href="#FNanchor_52" class="label">[52]</a> An American lady, a Californian artist, was the first to enter the pit -for the opening performance of ‘Henry VIII.’ at the Lyceum. “I and a -friend went with our camp-stools and took our places next the door at ten -o’clock in the morning. We were provided with a volume of <cite>Harper’s -Magazine</cite>, a sketch-book, writing-paper, and a fountain-pen, caricatures of -Henry Irving, and much patience. A newspaper spread under the feet -and a Japanese muff warmer, with sandwiches and a bottle of wine, kept -us comfortable. Two ladies were the next comers, and shortly a crowd -began to collect. Real amusing it was, but not very elegant. After about -two hours Mr. Bram Stoker came and had a look at us, and cheered our -hearts by telling us that tea would be served from the neighbouring saloon -(public-house). At last, at seven o’clock, we were rewarded for our -patience by getting seats in the front row. The play was superb, and the -audience—well, everyone looked as if he had done something.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_53" href="#FNanchor_53" class="label">[53]</a> As an instance of the manager’s happy touch in a trifling matter, -we might name the State trumpets constantly “blaring” and sounding -as the King approached, which offered nothing of the usual “super” -arrangement. The men seemed to tramp along the street as though conscious -of their own dignity, warning those whom it might concern to make -way for their high and puissant lord.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_54" href="#FNanchor_54" class="label">[54]</a> It was publicly stated that the “mounting” of this play had cost -£15,000, and that the weekly expenses were some £800. The manager -wrote to contradict this, as being altogether beyond the truth; though, he -added, with a sigh, as it were, that he heartily wished the second statement -were true, and that the expenses could be put at so low a figure.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_55" href="#FNanchor_55" class="label">[55]</a> According to one writer, “an emissary was sent to Rome to acquire a -Cardinal’s robe. After some time a friend managed to secure one of the -very period, whereupon an exact copy, ‘both of colour and texture,’ was -made. A price has to be paid for scenic splendours in the shape of the -delays that they necessarily occasion. Thanks to the ingenuity of stage-carpenters -and machinists, these delays at the Lyceum are reduced to a -minimum time. ‘Henry VIII.’ being not one of the longest of the plays—though -it is one-third longer than ‘Macbeth’—the text at the Lyceum -has been treated with comparative leniency. ‘Hamlet,’ on the other hand, -which comprises nearly four thousand lines, cannot on the modern system -of sumptuous mounting possibly be given in anything approaching its -entirety.” As a fact, very nearly one-half the play disappears from the -modern acting copies. My friend Mr. W. Pollock, in a paper in the -<cite>National Review</cite>, has justly urged in this connection that half a ‘Hamlet’ -is better than no ‘Hamlet’ at all.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_56" href="#FNanchor_56" class="label">[56]</a> To illustrate his most recent productions, the manager is accustomed -to issue what is called “a souvenir,” an artistic series of pictures of the -scenes, groupings, etc. It may be added, as a proof of the pictorial interest -of the Lyceum productions, that in little more than a week after the first -performance of ‘Becket’ no fewer than five-and-twenty illustrations, some -of great pretension, had appeared in the papers. On the first night of -‘Lear’ a marchioness of artistic tastes was seen making sketches, which -were published in an evening paper.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_57" href="#FNanchor_57" class="label">[57]</a> One touch, which might escape the superficial, showed the fine, delicate -sense of the manager. The scene where Kent is exhibited in the stocks -has always suggested something grotesque and prosaic. It was here so -dignified in its treatment as to become almost pathetic. I may add here -that the deepest strokes of Shakespeare, not being on the surface, are apt -to escape us altogether, save when some inspired critic lays his finger on -them. The faithful Kent at the close is brought to his master’s notice, -who does not recognise him. Here Lamb points out how noble is Kent’s -self-sacrifice in not bringing himself to the King’s recollection.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_58" href="#FNanchor_58" class="label">[58]</a> On March 18, 1893, Irving and his whole company were bidden to -Windsor Castle to play ‘Becket’ before her Majesty. A theatre was fitted -up in the Waterloo Chamber; special scenery was painted; the Lyceum -was closed; and the company, 170 strong, was transported to Windsor -and brought back on the same night. The performance was given with -much effect and to the enjoyment of the Queen. Some three or four years -before, a no less interesting entertainment was arranged at Sandringham -by the Prince of Wales, who was anxious that her Majesty should see the -two favourite performers in their most effective pieces—‘The Bells’ and -the “Trial scene” in ‘The Merchant of Venice,’ The outlay of time, -trouble, and skilful management to provide for all the arrangements within -a short space of time can scarcely be imagined. The pecuniary cost, owing -to the closing of the theatre, transport, etc., was serious.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_59" href="#FNanchor_59" class="label">[59]</a> An Irving “Bibliography” would fill many columns, and would include -a vast quantity of controversial writing—attacks, defences, and discussions. -Besides his official discourses, he has written many agreeable papers in the -leading “monthlies.” I have already spoken of the “skits” and personalities -which followed his early successes, and which he encountered with -excellent temper and a patient shrug. These have long since been forgotten. -At attempts at “taking him off,” though a favourite pastime, he -could afford to smile; though when it was carried beyond legitimate -bounds, as in the instance of the late Mr. Leslie, he interposed with quiet -firmness, and put it down in the interests of the profession. An American -burlesque actor, named Dixie, with execrable taste gave an imitation of -him in his presence. More curious is the unconscious imitation of him -which is gaining in the ranks of the profession, and which has had some -droll results. Thus one Hudson—when playing the Tetrarch in ‘Claudian’ -in the States—was so strangely like him in manner and speech, that it was -assumed by the American audience that he was maliciously “taking him -off.” His own company have caught up most of his “ways” and fashions—notably -Haviland, and even Alexander. At the opening of ‘Vanderdecken,’ -two at least of the performers were mistaken for him—from their -walk—and had a “reception” accordingly.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_60" href="#FNanchor_60" class="label">[60]</a> This “triple bill” is an unmeaning term, for a triple bill means, if -anything, three bills in one, and not, as is supposed, a single bill in three -parts.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_61" href="#FNanchor_61" class="label">[61]</a> In this connection there is a characteristic story told of our actor. He -was driving in a hansom one night to the Lyceum when the ‘Merchant of -Venice’ was running. In a fit of absence of mind he tendered a shilling -for his fare, whereas it should have been eighteenpence or two shillings. -Whereupon the cabby, who had recognised his man, burst out: “If yer -plays the Jew inside that theayter as well as yer does outside, darned if I -won’t spend this bob on coming to see yer.” It is said he was so delighted -with the retort that he promptly gave the man half-a-sovereign.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="ad"> - -<p class="center">BOOKS BY PERCY FITZGERALD.</p> - -<p class="hanging">THE SAVOY OPERA.</p> - -<p class="smaller">With 60 Illustrations and Portraits. Crown 8vo., cloth extra, 3s. 6d.</p> - -<p class="hanging">THE WORLD BEHIND THE SCENES.</p> - -<p class="smaller">Crown 8vo., cloth extra, 3s. 6d.</p> - -<p class="hanging">LITTLE ESSAYS.</p> - -<p class="smaller">SELECTIONS FROM THE LETTERS OF CHARLES LAMB. -Post 8vo., cloth limp, 2s. 6d.</p> - -<p class="hanging">A DAY’S TOUR:</p> - -<p class="smaller">A JOURNEY THROUGH FRANCE AND BELGIUM. With -facsimile Sketches. Crown 4to., picture cover, 1s.</p> - -<p class="hanging">LIFE OF JAMES BOSWELL (OF AUCHINLECK).</p> - -<p class="smaller">With an Account of his Sayings, Doings, and Writings; and Four -Portraits. Two vols., demy 8vo., cloth extra, 24s.</p> - -<p class="hanging">FATAL ZERO:</p> - -<p class="smaller">A NOVEL. Crown 8vo., cloth extra, 3s. 6d.; post 8vo., illustrated -boards, 2s.</p> - -<p class="center smaller">Post 8vo., illustrated boards, 2s. each.</p> - -<p class="hanging">BELLA DONNA.</p> - -<p class="hanging">NEVER FORGOTTEN.</p> - -<p class="hanging">THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON.</p> - -<p class="hanging">SEVENTY-FIVE BROOKE STREET.</p> - -<p class="hanging">POLLY.</p> - -<p class="hanging">THE LADY OF BRANTOME.</p> - -<p class="titlepage">LONDON: CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> -<img src="images/chatto-windus.jpg" width="200" height="200" alt="" /> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIR HENRY IRVING--A RECORD OF OVER TWENTY YEARS AT THE LYCEUM ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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