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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-23 09:27:03 -0800 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-23 09:27:03 -0800 |
| commit | c7e3b3da55aa5690e19ccb445ee74b953bfb9bf8 (patch) | |
| tree | ec86f096e10c599d0f8c7ad4519c92ea67411c2c /64575-h | |
| parent | 96eb09a23a3ae0df47cf65df44bb772388732225 (diff) | |
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-<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Sir Henry Irving--A record of over Twenty Years at the Lyceum, by Percy Hetherington Fitzgerald</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-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 <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>
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-<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>
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-<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>
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-<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>
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-<p class="hanging">POLLY.</p>
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-<p class="hanging">THE LADY OF BRANTOME.</p>
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-<p class="titlepage">LONDON: CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY.</p>
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+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Sir Henry Irving, by Percy Fitzgerald, M.A. + </title> + + <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> + +<style type="text/css"> + +a { + text-decoration: none; +} + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +h2.nobreak { + page-break-before: avoid; +} + +hr.chap { + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + clear: both; + width: 65%; + margin-left: 17.5%; + margin-right: 17.5%; +} + +div.chapter { + page-break-before: always; +} + +p { + margin-top: 0.5em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; + text-indent: 1em; +} + +table { + margin: 1em auto 1em auto; + max-width: 30em; + border-collapse: collapse; +} + +td { + padding-left: 2.25em; + padding-right: 0.25em; + vertical-align: top; + text-indent: -2em; + text-align: justify; +} + +.tdc { + text-align: center; + padding-top: 1em; + padding-bottom: 0.5em; +} + +.tdpg { + vertical-align: bottom; + text-align: right; +} + +.ad { + margin: auto; + max-width: 30em; +} + +.blockquote { + margin: 1.5em 10%; +} + +.center { + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; +} + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.footnotes { + margin-top: 1em; + border: dashed 1px; +} + +.footnote { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-size: 0.9em; +} + +.footnote .label { + position: absolute; + right: 84%; + text-align: right; +} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none; +} + +.hanging { + padding-left: 2em; + text-indent: -2em; +} + +.larger { + font-size: 150%; +} + +.noindent { + text-indent: 0em; +} + +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + right: 4%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; +} + +.poetry-container { + text-align: center; + margin: 1em; +} + +.poetry { + display: inline-block; + text-align: left; +} + +.poetry .stanza { + margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; +} + +.poetry .verse { + padding-left: 3em; +} + +.poetry .indent0 { + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poetry .indent10 { + text-indent: 2em; +} + +.poetry .indent18 { + text-indent: 6em; +} + +.poetry .indent22 { + text-indent: 8em; +} + +.right { + text-align: right; +} + +.smaller { + font-size: 80%; +} + +.smcap { + font-variant: small-caps; + font-style: normal; +} + +.tb { + margin-top: 2em; +} + +.titlepage { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 3em; + text-indent: 0em; +} + +@media handheld { + +img { + max-width: 100%; + width: auto; + height: auto; +} + +.poetry { + display: block; + margin-left: 1.5em; +} + +.blockquote { + margin: 1.5em 5%; +} +} + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 64575 ***</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>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 64575 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |