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diff --git a/old/64575-0.txt b/old/64575-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1dac620..0000000 --- a/old/64575-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6754 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Sir Henry Irving--A record of over Twenty -Years at the Lyceum, by Percy Hetherington Fitzgerald - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Sir Henry Irving--A record of over Twenty Years at the Lyceum - -Author: Percy Hetherington Fitzgerald - -Release Date: February 16, 2021 [eBook #64575] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: MFR and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIR HENRY IRVING--A RECORD OF OVER -TWENTY YEARS AT THE LYCEUM *** - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - SIR HENRY IRVING - - A RECORD OF OVER TWENTY YEARS - AT THE LYCEUM - - BY - PERCY FITZGERALD, M.A. - AUTHOR OF - “THE LIFE OF GARRICK,” “THE KEMBLES,” “ART OF THE STAGE,” ETC. - - “As in a theatre the eyes of men, - After a well-grac’d actor leaves the stage, - Are idly bent on him that enters next.” - - _A NEW EDITION, REVISED - WITH AN ADDITIONAL CHAPTER_ - - LONDON - CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY - 1895 - - - - -PREFACE. - - -One attraction in the life of an actor who has fought his way, and -triumphed over many difficulties, in his struggles to eminence, is -found in the spirit of adventure which nearly always marks his course. -Such a story must be always gratifying and encouraging to read; -and we follow it now with sympathy, now with admiration. Nor is it -without gratification for the actor himself, who must look back with -complacency to troubles surmounted, and to habits of patience and -discipline acquired. In this severe and trying school he may acquire -the practical virtues of resignation, courage, perseverance, and the -art of confronting difficulties. Even at the present moment, when the -stage is presumed to be more flourishing than at any former period, the -element of precariousness is more present than ever. Everything seems a -lottery—theatres, pieces, actors. A theatre has gained a high reputation -with one or two successful pieces: of a sudden the newest play fails—or -“falls,” as the French have it—to be succeeded by another, and yet -another: each failing or “falling,” and seeming to prove that, if nothing -succeeds like success, nothing fails like failure. - -There is a spectacle often witnessed in the manufacturing counties, -when we may be standing waiting in one of the great stations, which -leaves a melancholy impression. A huge theatrical train containing -one of the travelling companies comes up and thunders through. Here is -the “Pullman Car,” in which the performers are seen playing cards, or -chatting, or lunching. They have their pets with them—parrots, dogs, etc. -It suggests luxury and prosperity. But this ease is dearly purchased, -for we know that the performer has bound himself in a sort of slavery, -and has consented to forego all the legitimate methods of learning his -profession. He belongs to some peripatetic company, a “travelling” -one, or to one of the innumerable bands who take round a single play, -for years, it may be; and in it he must play his single character over -and over again. Hence, he must learn—nay, is compelled to play—every -character in the same fashion, for he knows no other method. His wage -is modest, but constant; but he can never rise higher, and if he lose -his place it will be difficult for him to find another. It will be -interesting to see what a contrast this system offers to the course of -our cultured actors, who have endured the iron training and discipline of -the old school; and in this view we shall follow the adventurous career -of the popular Henry Irving, admittedly the foremost of our performers. -In his instance we shall see how the struggle, so manfully sustained, -became an invariable _discipline_, slowly forming the character which has -made him an interesting figure on which the eyes of his countrymen rest -with pleasure: and developing, as I have said, the heroic qualities of -patience, resolution, and perseverance. - -At the same time, I do not profess to set forth in these pages what -is called “a biography” of the actor. But this seems a fitting moment -for presenting a review of his artistic, laborious work at the Lyceum -Theatre, during a period of over twenty years. Having known the actor -from the very commencement of his career; having seen him in all -his characters; having written contemporaneous criticisms of these -performances—I may be thought to be at least fairly qualified for -undertaking such a task. I possess, moreover, a vast collection of what -may be called _pièces justificatifs_, which includes almost everything -that has been written of him. It will be seen that the tone adopted is -an independent one, and I have freely and fairly discussed Sir Henry -Irving’s merits, both real and imputed. Where praise is undiscriminating, -there is no praise. I have also dealt with many interesting “open -questions,” as they may be called, connected with theatrical management -and the “art of the stage.” I may add that in this new edition I have -added many particulars which will be found interesting, and have brought -the story down to the present moment. - - ATHENÆUM CLUB, - _July, 1895_. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - - CHAPTER I. - - SCHOOL-DAYS—EARLY TASTE FOR THE STAGE—FIRST APPEARANCE - (1838-1856) 1 - - CHAPTER II. - - EDINBURGH AND THE SCOTTISH THEATRES (1857-1859) 6 - - CHAPTER III. - - THE ST. JAMES’S THEATRE—‘HUNTED DOWN’—THE NEW VAUDEVILLE - THEATRE—‘THE TWO ROSES’ (1866) 23 - - CHAPTER IV. - - ‘THE BELLS’—WILLS’S ‘CHARLES I.’ (1871) 31 - - CHAPTER V. - - ‘HAMLET’—‘OTHELLO’—‘MACBETH’—DEATH OF ‘THE COLONEL’—‘QUEEN - MARY’ (1874) 38 - - CHAPTER VI. - - THE NEW MANAGER OF THE LYCEUM—MISS TERRY—HIS SYSTEM AND - ASSISTANTS (1878) 50 - - CHAPTER VII. - - ‘THE MERCHANT OF VENICE’ (1879) 64 - - CHAPTER VIII. - - ‘THE CORSICAN BROTHERS’ AND ‘THE CUP’ (1880) 69 - - CHAPTER IX. - - ‘OTHELLO’ AND ‘THE TWO ROSES’ REVIVED (1881) 76 - - CHAPTER X. - - ‘ROMEO AND JULIET’—THE BANQUET (1882) 85 - - CHAPTER XI. - - ‘MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING’—AMERICAN VISIT ARRANGED (1882) 88 - - CHAPTER XII. - - ‘TWELFTH NIGHT’—‘THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD’—OXFORD HONOURS (1884) 96 - - CHAPTER XIII. - - ‘FAUST’—‘WERNER’—‘MACAIRE’—THE ACTOR’S SOCIAL GIFTS (1887) 111 - - CHAPTER XIV. - - ‘MACBETH’—‘THE DEAD HEART’—‘RAVENSWOOD’ (1888) 119 - - CHAPTER XV. - - ‘KING LEAR’—‘BECKET’ (1892) 131 - - CHAPTER XVI. - - ‘KING ARTHUR’—CORPORAL BREWSTER—HONOURS (1893) 138 - - CHAPTER XVII. - - L’ENVOI 143 - - - - -SIR HENRY IRVING - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -1838-1856. - -SCHOOL-DAYS—EARLY TASTE FOR THE STAGE—FIRST APPEARANCE. - - -Henry Irving was born at Keinton, near Glastonbury, in Somersetshire, -on February 6, 1838. His real name was John Henry Brodribb. “The -last place God made” has been the description given of this little -town—Keinton-Mandeville—which lies near Glastonbury. The house in which -the future actor was born is still pointed out—a small two-storied -dwelling, of a poorish sort. - -Henry Irving’s mother was Sarah Behenna, a woman of strong, marked -character, who early took the child into Cornwall to her sister -Penberthy. Thus was he among the miners and mining captains in a district -“stern and wild,” where lessons of dogged toil and perseverance were to -be learned. The earliest books he read were his Bible, some old English -ballads, and “Don Quixote,” a character which he had long had a fancy -for performing. In an intimate _causerie_ with his and my friend Joseph -Hatton, he was induced to stray back to these early days of childhood, -when he called up some striking scenes of those old mining associations. -This aunt Penberthy was a resolute, striking woman, firm and even grim of -purpose, and the scenes in which she figured have a strong flavour, as -Mr. Hatton suggests, of Currer Bell’s stories. - -He was early sent to a school then directed by Dr. Pinches, in George -Yard, Lombard Street, close by the George and Vulture, which still -happily stands, and where Mr. Pickwick always put up when he was in -town. At this academy, on some exhibition day, he proposed to recite a -rather gruesome piece called “The Uncle,” to which his preceptor strongly -objected, when he substituted the more orthodox “Defence of Hamilton -Rowan,” by Curran. - -More than thirty years later, when the boy had become famous, and was -giving a benefit at his own theatre to a veteran player—Mr. Creswick—the -latter, coming before the curtain, related to the audience this little -anecdote. “I was once,” he said, “invited to hear some schoolboys recite -speeches previous to their breaking up for the holidays. The schoolmaster -was an old friend of mine, whom I very much respected. The room was -filled from wall to wall with the parents and friends of the pupils. I -was not much entertained with the first part: I must confess that I was -a little bored; but suddenly there came out a lad who at once struck me -as being rather uncommon, and he riveted my attention. The performance, -I think, was a scene from ‘Ion,’ in which he played Adrastus. I well saw -that he left his schoolfellows a long way behind. That schoolboy was -Master Henry Irving. Seeing that he had dramatic aptitude, I gave him -a word of encouragement, perhaps the first he had ever received, and -certainly the first he had received from one in the dramatic profession, -to which he is now a distinguished honour.” The late Solicitor-General, -Sir Edward Clarke, who was sent to the school after Irving left it, -long after made humorous complaint at a Theatrical Fund dinner that, on -exhibiting his own powers at the same school, he used to be regularly -told, “Very good—very fair; but you should have heard Irving do it.” - -On leaving the school, it was determined that the future actor should -adopt a commercial career, and he was placed in the offices of Messrs. -Thacker, “Indian merchants in Newgate Street.” He was then about -fourteen, and remained in the house four years. - -But his eyes were even now straying from his desk to the stage. He was -constantly reading plays and poetry, and seeking opportunity for practice -in the art in which he felt he was destined so to excel. - -At this time, about 1853, the late Mr. Phelps’ intelligent efforts, and -the admirable style in which he presented classical dramas, excited -abundant interest and even enthusiasm among young men. Many now look back -with pleasure to their pilgrimages to the far-off Sadler’s Wells Theatre, -where such an intellectual entertainment was provided and sustained with -admirable taste for many seasons. What was called “The Elocution Class” -was one of the results. It was directed by Mr. Henry Thomas with much -intelligence; his system was to encourage his pupils to recite pieces -of their own selection, on which the criticisms of the listeners were -freely given and invited. “On one evening,” says one of Irving’s old -class-fellows, “a youth presented himself as a new member. He was rather -tall for his age, dressed in a black suit, with what is called a round -jacket, and a deep white linen collar turned over it. His face was very -handsome, with a mass of black hair, and eyes bright and flashing with -intelligence. He was called on for his first recitation, and fairly -electrified the audience with an unusual display of elocutionary and -dramatic intensity.” The new member was Henry Irving. By-and-by the -elocution class was moved to the Sussex Hall, in Leadenhall Street, when -something more ambitious was attempted in the shape of regular dramatic -performances. The pieces were chiefly farces, such as ‘Boots at the -Swan,’ or ‘Little Toddlekins,’ though more serious plays were performed. -It was remarked that the young performer was invariably perfect in his -“words.” In spite of his youth he gave great effect to such characters as -Wilford in ‘The Iron Chest,’ and others of a melodramatic cast. A still -more ambitious effort was Tobin’s ‘Honeymoon,’ given at the little Soho -Theatre with full accompaniments of scenery, dresses, and decoration; and -here the young aspirant won great applause. - -It was to be expected that this success and these associations should -more and more encourage him in his desire of adopting a profession to -which he felt irresistibly drawn. He was, of course, a visitor to the -theatres, and still recalls the extraordinary impression left upon him -by Mr. Phelps’ performances. In everyone’s experience is found one of -these “epoch-making” incidents, which have an influence we are often -scarcely conscious of; and every thinking person knows the value of such -“turning-points” in music or literature. The young man’s taste was no -caprice, or stage-struck fancy; he tried his powers deliberately; and -before going to see a play would exercise himself in regular study of its -parts, attempting to lay out the action, business, etc., according to -his ideas. Many years later in America, he said that when he was a youth -he never went to a theatre except to see a Shakespearian play—except, in -fact, for instruction. - -At Sadler’s Wells there was a painstaking actor called Hoskins, who was -attracted by the young fellow’s enthusiasm and conscientious spirit, and -who agreed to give him a few lessons in his art. These were fixed for -eight o’clock in the morning, so as not to interfere with commercial -business. Hoskins introduced him to Phelps, who listened to his efforts -with some of that gnarled impassibility which was characteristic of him; -then, in his blunt, good-natured way, gave him this advice: “Young man, -have nothing to do with the stage; _it is a bad profession_!” - -Such, indeed, is the kindest counsel that could be given to nine-tenths -of the postulants of our time. Their wish is to “go on the stage”—a -different thing from the wish to become an actor. The manager had -nothing before him to show that there were here present the necessary -gifts of perseverance, study, and intelligence. Struck, however, by his -earnestness, he proposed to give him an engagement of a very trifling -kind, which the young man, after deliberation, declined, on the ground -that it would not afford him opportunities of thoroughly learning his -profession. The good-natured Hoskins, who was himself leaving the theatre -to go to Australia, gave him a letter to a manager, with these words: -“You will go on the stage; when you want an engagement present that -letter, and you will obtain one.” He, indeed, tried to induce him to join -him on his tours, but the offer was declined. - -His mother, however, could not reconcile herself to his taking so -serious a step as “going on the stage.” “I used frequently,” writes his -companion at the elocution class, “to visit at her house to rehearse -the scenes in which John and I were to act together. I remember her as -being rather tall, somewhat stately, and very gentle. On one occasion she -begged me very earnestly to dissuade him from thinking of the stage as a -profession; and having read much of the vicissitudes of actors’ lives, -their hardships, and the precariousness of their work, I did my best to -impress this view upon him.” But it is ever idle thus striving to hinder -a child’s purpose when it has been deliberately adopted. - -Having come to this resolution, he applied earnestly to the task of -preparing himself for his profession. He learned a vast number of -characters; studied, and practised; even took lessons in fencing, -attending twice a week at a school-of-arms in Chancery Lane. This -accomplishment, often thought trifling, was once an important branch of -an actor’s education; it supplies an elegance of movement and bearing. - -“The die being now cast,” according to the accepted expression, John -Brodribb, who had now become Henry Irving, bade adieu to his desk, and -bethinking him of the Hoskins letter, applied to Mr. Davis, a country -manager, who had just completed the building of a new theatre at -Sunderland. With a slender stock of money he set off for that town. By -an odd coincidence the name of the new house was the Lyceum. The play -appointed was ‘Richelieu,’ and the opening night was fixed for September -29, 1856. The young actor was cast for the part of the Duke of Orleans, -and had to speak the opening words of the piece. - -Mr. Alfred Davis, a well-known provincial actor, and son of the northern -manager, used often to recall the circumstances attending Irving’s “first -appearance on any stage.” “The new theatre,” he says, “was opened in -September, 1856, and on the 29th of that month we started. For months -previously a small army of scenic artists had been at work. Carpenters, -property-makers, and, of course, _costumiers_, had been working night and -day, and everything was, as far as could be foreseen, ready and perfect. -Among the names of a carefully-selected _corps dramatique_ were those of -our old friend Sam Johnson (now of the Lyceum Theatre, London); George -Orvell (real name, Frederick Kempster); Miss Ely Loveday (sister of H. -J. Loveday, the present genial and much-respected stage-manager of the -Lyceum), afterwards married to Mr. Kempster; and a youthful novice, just -eighteen, called Henry Irving. Making his first appearance, he spoke the -first word in the first piece (played for the first time in the town, I -believe), on the first or opening night of the new theatre. The words -of the speech itself, ‘_Here’s to our enterprise!_’ had in them almost -a prophetic tone of aspiration and success. So busy was I in front and -behind the scenes, that I was barely able to reach my place on the stage -in time for the rising of the curtain. I kept my back to the audience -till my cue to speak was given, all the while buttoning up, tying, and -finishing my dressing generally, so that scant attention would be given -to others. But even under these circumstances I was compelled to notice, -and with perfect appreciation, the great and most minute care which had -been bestowed by our aspirant on the completion of his costume. In those -days managers provided the mere dress. Accessories, or ‘properties’ as -they were called, were found by every actor. Henry Irving was, from his -splendid white hat and feathers to the tips of his shoes, a perfect -picture; and, no doubt, had borrowed his authority from some historical -picture of the Louis XIII. period.” - -“The impersonation,” as the neophyte related it long afterwards, “was -not a success. I was nervous, and suffered from stage fright. My second -appearance as Cleomenes in ‘A Winter’s Tale’ was even more disheartening, -as in Act V. I entirely forgot my lines, and abruptly quitted the scene, -putting out all the other actors. My manager, however, put down my -failure to right causes, and instead of dispensing with my services, gave -me some strong and practical advice.” - -All which is dramatic enough, and gives us a glimpse of the good old -provincial stage life. That touch of encouragement instead of dismissal -is significant of the fair, honest system which then obtained in this -useful training school. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -1857-1859. - -EDINBURGH AND THE SCOTTISH THEATRES. - - -At the Sunderland Theatre he remained only four months, and though the -manager pressed him to stay with him, the young actor felt that here -he had not the opportunities he desired. He accordingly accepted an -engagement at the Edinburgh Theatre, which began on February 9, 1857. - -Among the faces that used to be familiar at any “first night” at the -Lyceum were those of Mr. Robert Wyndham and his wife. There is something -romantic in the thought that these guests of the London manager and -actor in the height of his success and prosperity should have been the -early patrons of the unfriended provincial player. Mr. Wyndham was one -of the successors of that sagacious Murray to whom the Edinburgh stage -owes so much that is respectable. Here our actor remained for two years -and a half, enjoying the benefits of that admirable, useful discipline, -by which alone a knowledge of acting is to be acquired—viz., a varied -practice in a vast round of characters. This experience, though acquired -in a hurried and perfunctory fashion, is of enormous value in the way -of training. The player is thus introduced to every shade and form of -character, and can practise himself in all the methods of expression. -Now that provincial theatres are abolished, and have given place to the -“travelling companies,” the actor has few opportunities of learning his -business, and one result is a “thinness” or meagreness of interpretation. -In this Edinburgh school our actor performed “a round,” as it is called, -of no fewer than three hundred and fifty characters! This seems amazing. -It is, in truth, an extraordinary list, ranging over every sort of minor -character. - -He here also enjoyed opportunities of performing with famous “stars” who -came round the provinces, Miss Ellen Faucit, Mrs. Stirling, Vandenhoff, -Charles Dillon, Madame Celeste, “Ben” Webster, Robson, the facetious -Wright, the buoyant Charles Mathews, his life-long friend Toole, of -“incompressible humour,” and the American, Miss Cushman.[1] This, it is -clear, was a period of useful drudgery, but in it he found his account. -The company visited various Scotch towns, which the actor has described -pleasantly enough in what might seem an extract from one of the old -theatrical memoirs. He had always a vein of quiet humour, the more -agreeable because it is unpretending and without effort. - -It would be difficult to give an idea of the prodigious labour which this -earnest, resolute young man underwent while struggling to “learn his -profession” in the most thorough way. The iron discipline of the theatre -favoured his efforts, and its calls on the exertions of the actor -seem, nowadays, truly extraordinary. In another laborious profession, -the office of “deviling” for a counsel in full practice, which entails -painful gratuitous drudgery, is welcomed as a privilege by any young man -who wishes to rise. A few of these Edinburgh bills are now before me, -and present nights of singularly hard work for so young a man. We may -wonder, too, at the audience which could have stomach for so lengthy -a programme. Thus, one night, January 7, 1858, when the pantomime was -running, the performances began with the pantomime of ‘Little Bo-Peep,’ -in which we find our hero as Scruncher, “the Captain of the Wolves.” -After the pantomime came ‘The Middy Ashore,’ in which he was Tonnish, -“an exquisite,” concluding with ‘The Wandering Boys,’ in which we again -find him as Gregoire, “confidential servant to the Countess Croissey.” -We find him nearly always in three pieces of a night, and he seems, in -pieces of a light sort, to have been “cast” for the gentlemanly captain -of the “walking” sort; in more serious ones, for the melodramatic and -dignified characters. In ‘Nicholas Nickleby’ he was the hero; and also -Jack Wind, the boatswain, the chief mutineer, in ‘Robinson Crusoe.’ -In the course of this season Toole and Miss Louisa Keeley came to the -theatre, when Irving opened the night as the Marquis de Cevennes in ‘Plot -and Passion,’ next appearing in the “laughable farce” (and it _is_ one, -albeit old-fashioned), ‘The Loan of a Lover,’ in which he was Amersfort, -and finally playing Leeford, “Brownlow’s nephew,” in ‘Oliver Twist.’ - -The young man, full of hope and resolution, went cheerfully through -these labours, though “my name,” as he himself tells us, “continued -to occupy a useful but obscure position in the playbill, and nothing -occurred to suggest to the manager the propriety of doubling my salary, -though he took care to assure me I was ‘made to rise.’” This salary was -the modest one of thirty shillings a week, then the usual one for what -was termed “juvenile lead.” The old classification, “walking lady,” -“singing chambermaid,” “heavy father,” etc., will have soon altogether -disappeared, simply because the round of characters that engendered it -has disappeared. Now the manager selects, at his goodwill and pleasure, -anybody, in or out of his company, who he thinks will best suit the -character. - -As Mr. Wyndham informs me: “During the short period he was under our -management, both Mrs. Wyndham and myself took a most lively interest in -his promotion, for he was always perfect, and any character, however -small, he might have been called upon to represent, was in itself a -study; and I believe he would have sacrificed a week’s salary—a small -affair, by the way—to exactly look like the character he was about to -portray.” - -Of these old Edinburgh days Irving always thought fondly. At the Scottish -capital he is now welcomed with an affectionate sympathy; and the various -intellectual societies of the city—Philosophical and others—are ever glad -to receive instruction and entertainment from his lips. In November, -1891, when he was visiting the Students’ Union Dramatic Society, he -told them that some thirty years before “he was member of a University -there—the old Theatre Royal. There he had studied for two years and a -half his beautiful art, and there he learnt the lesson that they would -all learn, that— - - “‘Deep the oak must sink its roots in earth obscure, - That hopes to lift its branches to the sky.’” - -In some of his later speeches “of occasion” he has scattered little -autobiographical touches that are not without interest. On one occasion -he recalled how he was once summoned over to Dublin to supply the place -of another actor at the Queen’s Theatre, then under the direction of -two “manager-twins,” the Brothers Webb. The Queen’s was but a small -house, conducted on old-fashioned principles, and had a rather turbulent -audience. When the actor made his appearance he was, to his astonishment, -greeted with yells, general anger, and disapprobation. This was to be his -reception throughout the whole engagement, which was luckily not a long -one. He, however, stuck gallantly to his post, and sustained his part -with courage. He described the manager as perpetually making “alarums and -excursions” in front of the curtain to expostulate with the audience. -These “Brothers Webb, who had found their twinship profitable in playing -the ‘Dromios,’ were worthy actors enough, and much respected in their -profession; they had that marked individuality of character now so rarely -found on the boards. Having discovered, at last, what his offence was, -viz., the taking the place of a dismissed actor—an unconscious exercise -of a form of ‘land-grabbing’—his placid good-humour gradually made its -way, and before the close of the engagement he had, according to the -correct theatrical phrase, ‘won golden opinions.’” - -At the close of the season—in May, 1859—the Edinburgh company set out -on its travels, visiting various Scotch provincial towns. During -this peregrination, when at Dundee, the idea occurred to him and a -brother-player of venturing “a reading” in the neighbouring town of -Linlithgow. This adventure he has himself related in print. Our actor has -an agreeable vein of narrative, marked by a quiet, rather placid humour, -which is also found in his occasional speeches. The charm and secret of -this is the absence of affectation or pretence; a talisman ever certain -to win listeners and readers. Taking his friend, who was Mr. Saker, into -his confidence, he proceeded to arrange the scheme. But he shall tell the -story himself: - -“I had been about two years upon the stage, and was fulfilling my -first engagement at Edinburgh. Like all young men, I was full of hope. -It happened to be vacation time—‘preaching week,’ as it is called in -Scotland—and it struck me that I might turn my leisure to account by -giving a reading. I imparted this project to another member of the -company, who entered into it with enthusiasm. He, too, was young and -ambitious. I promised him half the profits. - -“Having arranged the financial details, we came to the secondary -question—Where was the reading to be given? It would scarcely do in -Edinburgh; the public there had too many other matters to think about. -Linlithgow was a likely place. My friend accordingly paid several visits -to Linlithgow, engaged the town-hall, ordered the posters, and came back -every time full of confidence. Meanwhile, I was absorbed in the ‘Lady -of Lyons,’ which, being the play that most charmed the fancy of a young -actor, I had decided to read; and day after day, perched on Arthur’s -Seat, I worked myself into a romantic fever. The day came, and we arrived -at Linlithgow in high spirits. I felt a thrill of pride at seeing my -name for the first time in big capitals on the posters, which announced -that at ‘eight o’clock precisely Mr. Henry Irving would read the “Lady -of Lyons.”’ At the hotel we eagerly questioned our waiter as to the -probability of there being a great rush. He pondered some time; but we -could get no other answer out of him than ‘Nane can tell.’ ‘Did he think -there would be fifty people there?’ ‘_Nane can tell._’ - -“Eight o’clock drew near, and we sallied out to survey the scene of -operations. The crowd had not yet begun to collect in front of the -town-hall, and the man who had undertaken to be there with the key was -not visible. As it was getting late, we went in search of the doorkeeper. -He was quietly reposing in the bosom of his family, and to our -remonstrance replied, ‘Ou, ay, the reading! I forgot all aboot it.’ This -was not inspiriting. - -“The door was opened, the gas was lighted, and my manager made the -most elaborate preparations for taking the money. While he was thus -energetically applying himself to business, I was strolling like a casual -spectator on the other side of the street, taking some last feverish -glances at the play, and anxiously watching for the first symptoms of -‘the rush.’ - -“The time wore on. The town clock struck eight, and still there was no -sign of ‘the rush.’ Half-past eight, and not a soul to be seen—not even a -small boy! I could not read the ‘Lady of Lyons’ to an audience consisting -of the manager, with a face as long as two tragedies, so there was -nothing for it but to beat a retreat. No one came out even to witness our -discomfiture. Linlithgow could not have taken the trouble to study the -posters, which now seemed such horrid mockeries in our eyes. - -“We managed to scrape together enough money to pay the expenses, which -operation was a sore trial to my speculative manager, and a pretty severe -tax upon the emoluments of the ‘juvenile lead.’ We returned to Edinburgh -the same night, and on the journey, by way of showing that I was not at -all cast down, I favoured my manager with selections from the play, which -he good-humouredly tolerated. - -“This incident was vividly revived last year, as I passed through -Linlithgow on my way from Edinburgh to Glasgow, in which cities I gave, -in conjunction with my friend Toole, two readings on behalf of the -sufferers by the bank failure, which produced a large sum of money. My -companion in the Linlithgow expedition was Mr. Edward Saker—now one of -the most popular managers in the provinces.” - -In March, 1859, we find our actor at the old Surrey Theatre, playing -under Mr. Shepherd and Mr. Creswick, for a “grand week,” so it was -announced, “of Shakespeare, and first-class pieces; supported by Miss -Elsworthy and Mr. Creswick, whose immense success during the past week -has been _rapturously endorsed_ by crowded and enthusiastic audiences.” -“Rapturously endorsed” is good. In ‘Macbeth’ we find Irving fitted with -the modest part of Siward, and this only for the first three nights in -the week. There was an after-piece, in which he had no part, and ‘Money’ -was given on the other nights. - -But he had now determined to quit Edinburgh, lured by the prospect of -“a London engagement,” an _ignis fatuus_ for many an actor, who is too -soon to find out that a London engagement does not mean exactly a London -success. In 1859 he made his farewell appearance in ‘Claude Melnotte,’ -and was received in very cordial fashion. As he told the people of -Glasgow many years later, he ever thought gratefully of the Scotch, as -they were the first who gave him encouragement. - -Once when engaged at some country theatre in Scotland the company were -playing in ‘Cramond Brig,’ a good sound old melodrama—of excellent -humour, too. Years later, when the prosperous manager and actor was -directing the Lyceum, some of the audience were surprised to find him -disinterring this ancient drama, and placing it at the opening of the -night’s performance. But I fancy it was the associations of this little -adventure that had given it a corner in his memory, and secured for it a -sort of vitality. Thus he tells the story: - - “When the play was being rehearsed, our jolly manager - said, ‘Now, boys, I shall stand a real supper to-night; no - paste-board and parsley, but a real sheep’s head, and a little - drop of real Scotch.’ A tumult of applause. - - “The manager was as good as his word, for at night there was - a real head well equipped with turnips and carrots, and the - ‘drop of real Scotch.’ The ‘neighbour’s bairn,’ an important - character in the scene, came in and took her seat beside the - miller’s chair. She was a pretty, sad-eyed, intelligent child - of some nine years old. In the course of the meal, when Jock - Howison was freely passing the whisky, she leaned over to - him and said, ‘Please, will you give me a little?’ He looked - surprised. She was so earnest in her request, that I whispered - to her, ‘To-morrow, perhaps, if you want it very much, you - shall have a thimbleful.’ - - “To-morrow night came, and, as the piece was going on, to my - amusement, she produced from the pocket of her little plaid - frock a bright piece of brass, and held it out to me. I said, - ‘What’s this?’ ‘A thimble, sir.’ ‘But what am I to do with it?’ - ‘You said that you would give me a thimbleful of whisky if I - wanted it, and I do want it.’ - - “This was said so naturally, that the audience laughed and - applauded. I looked over to the miller, and found him with - the butt-end of his knife and fork on the table, and his eyes - wide open, gazing at us in astonishment. However, we were both - experienced enough to pass off this unrehearsed effect as a - part of the piece. I filled the thimble, and the child took - it back carefully to her little ‘creepy’ stool beside the - miller. I watched her, and presently saw her turn her back to - the audience and pour it into a little halfpenny tin snuff-box. - She covered the box with a bit of paper, and screwed on the - lid, thus making the box pretty watertight, and put it into her - pocket. - - “When the curtain fell, our manager came forward and patted the - child’s head. ‘Why, my little girl,’ said he, ‘you are quite a - genius. Your gag is the best thing in the piece. We must have - it in every night. But, my child, you mustn’t drink the whisky. - No, no! that would never do.’ - - “‘Oh, sir, indeed I won’t; I give you my word I won’t!’ she - said quite earnestly, and ran to her dressing-room. - - “‘Cramond Brig’ had an unprecedented run of six nights, and the - little lady always got her thimbleful of whisky, and her round - of applause. And each time I noticed that she corked up the - former safely in the snuff-box. I was curious as to what she - could possibly want with the spirit, and who she was, and where - she came from. I asked her, but she seemed so unwilling to - tell, and turned so red, that I did not press her; but I found - out that it was the old story—no mother, and a drunken father. - - “I took a fancy to the little thing, and wished to fathom - her secret, for a secret I felt sure there was. After the - performance, I saw my little body come out. Poor little child! - there was no mother or brother to see her to her home. She - hurried up the street, and turning into the poorest quarter of - the town, entered the common stair of a tumbledown old house. I - followed, feeling my way as best I could. She went up and up, - till in the very top flat she entered a little room. A handful - of fire glimmering in the grate revealed a sickly boy, some two - years her junior, who crawled towards her from where he was - lying before the fire. - - “‘Cissy, I’m glad you’re home,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d never - come.’ - - “She put her arms round him, laid the poor little head on her - thin shoulder, and took him over to the fire again, trying to - comfort him as she went. - - “The girl leaned over and put her arms round him, and kissed - him; she then put her hand into her pocket and took out the - snuff-box. - - “‘Oh, Willie, I wish we had more, so that it might cure the - pain.’ - - “Having lighted a dip candle, she rubbed the child’s rheumatic - shoulder with the few drops of spirit, and then covered up the - little thin body, and, sitting before the fire, took the boy’s - head on her knee, and began to sing him to sleep. - - “I took another look into the room through the half-open door; - my foot creaked; the frightened eyes met mine. I put my finger - on my lips and crept away. - - “But as I began to descend the stair I met a drunken man - ascending—slipping and stumbling as he came. He slipped and - stumbled by me, and entered the room. I followed to the landing - unnoticed, and stood in the dark shadow of the half-open door. - - “A hoarse, brutal voice growled: ‘What are you doing there?—get - up!’ - - “‘I can’t, father; Willie’s head is on my knees.’ - - “‘Get up!’ - - “The girl bowed her head lower and lower. - - “I could not bear it. I entered the room. The brute was on - the bed already in his besotted sleep. The child stole up to - me, and in a half-frightened whisper said, ‘Oh, sir, oughtn’t - people to keep secrets, if they know them? I think they ought, - if they are other people’s.’ This with the dignity of a queen. - - “I could not gainsay her, so I said as gravely as I could to - the little woman, ‘The secret shall be kept, but you must ask - me if you want anything.’ She bent over, suddenly kissed my - hand, and I went down the stair. - - “The next night she was shy in coming for the whisky, and I - took care that she had good measure. - - “The last night of our long run of six nights she looked more - happy than I had ever seen her. When she came for the whisky - she held out the thimble, and whispered to me with her poor, - pale lips trembling, ‘You need only pretend to-night.’ - - “‘Why?’ I whispered. - - “‘Because—he doesn’t want it now. He’s dead.’” - -The London engagement was offered him by the late Mr. A. Harris, then -managing the Princess’s Theatre. It was for three years. But when he -arrived he found that the only opening given him was a part of a few -lines in a play called ‘Ivy Hall.’ As this meagre employment promised -neither improvement nor fame, he went to the manager and begged his -release. This he obtained, and courageously quitted London, determined -not to return until he could claim a respectable and conspicuous -position. Thus we find him, with perhaps a heavy heart, once more -returning to the provinces, just as Mrs. Siddons had to return to the -same form of drudgery after her failure at Drury Lane. Before leaving -London, that wholesome taste for appealing to the appreciation of the -judicious and intellectual portion of the community, which has always -been “a note” of his character, prompted him to give two readings at the -old palace of Crosby Hall. In this he was encouraged by City friends and -old companions, who had faith in his powers. It was something to make -this exhibition under the roof-tree of that interesting old pile, not -yet “restored”; and the _locale_, we may imagine, was in harmony with -his own refined tastes. He read the ‘Lady of Lyons’ on December 19, -1859, and the somewhat artificial ‘Virginius’ on February 1, 1860. These -performances were received with favour, and were pronounced by the public -critics to show scholarly feeling and correct taste. “His conception was -good, his delivery clear and effective, and there was a gentlemanly ease -and grace in his manners which is exceedingly pleasing to an audience.” -One observer with some prescience detected “the indefinite something -which incontestably and instantaneously shows that the fire of genius -is present.” Another pronounced “that he was likely to make a name for -himself.” At the last scenes between the hero and Pauline, the listeners -were much affected, and “in some parts of the room sobs were heard.” -Another judge opined that “if he attempted a wider sphere of action,” he -would have a most successful career. This “wider sphere of action” he has -since “attempted,” but at that moment his eyes were strained, wearily -enough, looking for it. It lay before him in the weary round of work in -the provinces, to which, as we have seen, he had now to return. - -I have before me a curious little criticism of this performance taken -from an old and long defunct journal that bore the name of _The Players_, -which will now be read with a curious interest: - -“We all know the ‘Dramatic Reading.’ We have all—at least, all who -have served their apprenticeship to theatrical amusements—suffered -the terrible infliction of the Dramatic Reader; but then with equal -certainty we have all answered to the next gentleman’s call of a ‘Night -with Shakespeare, with Readings, etc.,’ and have again undergone the -insufferable bore of hearing our dear old poet murdered by the aspiring -genius. Thinking somewhat as we have above written the other evening, -we wended our editorial way towards Crosby Hall, where our informant -‘circular’ assured us Mr. Henry Irving was about to read Bulwer’s ‘Lady -of Lyons.’ We asked ourselves, Who is Mr. Henry Irving? and memory, -rushing to some hidden cave in our mental structure, answered—Henry -Irving, oh! yes, to be sure; how stupid! We at once recollected that Mr. -Irving was a gentleman of considerable talent, and a great favourite in -the provinces. We have often seen his name honourably figuring in the -columns of our provincial contemporaries. Now, we were most agreeably -disappointed on this present occasion; for instead of finding the -usual conventional respectable-looking ‘mediocrity,’ we were gratified -by hearing the poetical ‘Lady of Lyons’ poetically read by a most -accomplished elocutionist, who gave us not only words, but that finer -indefinite something which proves incontestably and instantaneously that -the fire of genius is present in the artist. It would be out of place -now to speak of the merits of the piece selected by this gentleman, -but the merits appeared as striking and the demerits as little so as -on any occasion of the kind in our recollection. Claude’s picture of -his imaginary home was given with such poetic feeling as to elicit a -loud burst of approval from his hearers, as also many other passages -occurring in the play. The characters were well marked, especially -Beauseant and Madame Deschappelles, whilst the little part of Glavis -was very pleasingly given. Mr. Irving was frequently interrupted by the -applause of his numerous and delighted audience, and at the conclusion -was unanimously called to receive their marks of approval.” It was at -this interesting performance that Mr. Toole, as he tells us, first met -his friend. - -A very monotonous feature in too many of the dramatic memoirs is found -in the record of dates, engagements, and performances, which in many -instances are the essence of the whole. They are uninteresting to anyone -save perhaps to the hero himself. So in this record we shall summarize -such details as much as possible. Our actor went straight to Glasgow, -to Glover’s Theatre, whence he passed to the Theatre Royal, Manchester, -where he remained for some four years, till June, 1865. Here he met fresh -histrionic friends, who “came round” the circuit in succession—such as -Edwin Booth, Sothern, Charles Mathews, G.V. Brooke, Miss Heath, and -that versatile actor and dramatist and manager, Dion Boucicault. Here -he gradually gained a position of respect—respect for his unfailing -assiduity and scrupulous conscientiousness, qualities which the public -is never slow to note. In many points he offers a suggestion of Dickens, -as in his purpose of doing whatever he attempted in the very best way he -could. There are other points, too, in which the actor strongly recalls -the novelist; the sympathetic interest in all about him, the absence -of affectation combined with great talents, the aptitude for practical -business, the knowledge of character, the precious art of making friends, -and the being unspoiled by good fortune. Years later he recalled with -grateful pleasure the encouragement he had received here. And his -language is touching and betokens a sympathetic heart: - -“I lived here for five years, and wherever I look—to the right or to the -left, to the north or the south—I always find some remembrance, some -memento of those five years. But there is one association connected with -my life here that probably is unknown to but a few in this room. That is -an association with a friend, which had much to do, I believe, with the -future course of our two lives. When I tell you that for months and years -we fought together and worked together to the best of our power, and with -the means we had then, to give effect to the art we were practising; -when I tell you we dreamt of what might be done, but was not then done, -and patted each other on the back and said, ‘Well, old fellow, perhaps -the day will come when you may have a little more than sixpence in your -pocket;’ when I tell you that that man was well known to you, and that -his name was Calvert, you will understand the nature of my associations -with Manchester. I have no doubt that you will be able to trace in my -own career, and the success I have had, the benefit of the communion I -had with him. When I was in Manchester I had very many friends. I needed -good advice at that time, for I found it a very difficult thing as an -actor to pursue my profession and to do justice to certain things that -I always had a deep, and perhaps rather an extravagant, idea of, on the -sum of £75 a year. I have been making a calculation within the last few -minutes of the amount of money that I did earn in those days, and I found -that it was about £75 a year. Perhaps one would be acting out of the -fifty-two weeks of the year some thirty-five. The other part of the year -one would probably be receiving nothing. Then an actor would be tempted -perhaps to take a benefit, by which he generally lost £20 or £30. I have -a very fond recollection, I have an affection for your city, for very -many reasons. The training I received here was a severe training; I must -say at first it was very severe. I found it a difficult thing to make my -way at all with the audience; and I believe the audience to a certain -extent was right; I think there was no reason that I _should_ make my way -with them. I don’t think I had learnt enough; I think I was too raw, too -unacceptable. But I am very proud to say that it was not long before, -with the firmness of the Manchester friendship which I have always found, -they got to like me; and I think before I parted with them they had an -affection for me. At all events, I remember when in this city as little -less—or little more—than a walking gentleman, I essayed the part of -Hamlet the Dane, I was looked upon as a sort of madman who ought to be -taken to some asylum and shut up; but I found in acting it before the -audience that their opinion was a very different one, and before the play -was half gone through I was received with a fervour and a kindness which -gave me hope and expectation that in the far and distant future I might -perhaps be able to benefit by their kindness. Perhaps they thought that -by encouraging me they might help me on in the future. I believe they -thought that, I believe that was in the thoughts of many of the audience, -for they received me with an enthusiasm and kindness which my merits did -not deserve.” - -The man that could trace these faithful records of provincial stage life, -and speak in this natural heartfelt fashion of memories which many would -not perhaps wish to revive, must have a courageous and sympathetic nature. - -Many years later, in his prosperity, he came to Bolton to lay the first -stone of a new theatre, on which occasion other old memories recurred to -him. “I once played here,” he said, “for a week, I am afraid to say how -many years ago, and a very good time we had with a little sharing company -from Manchester, headed by an actor, Charles Calvert. The piece we acted -was called ‘Playing with Fire’; and though we did not play with too much -money, we enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. I always look back to that week -with very great pleasure. The theatre then had not certainly every modern -appliance, but what the theatre lacked the audience made up for, and a -more spontaneous, good-natured public I never played to.” - -On another occasion he again indulged in a retrospect; indeed, his eyes -seem always to have fondly turned back to Manchester and these early -days of struggle: “I came all the way from Greenock with a few shillings -in my pocket, and found myself in the splendid theatre now presided -over by our friend Captain Bainbridge. The autumn dramatic season of -1860 commenced with a little farce, and a little two-act piece from -the French, called ‘The Spy,’ the whole concluding with ‘God Save the -Queen,’ in which, and in the little two-act piece from the French, I -took prominent parts; so you see, gentlemen, that as a vocalist I even -then had some proficiency, although I had not achieved the distinction -subsequently attained by my efforts in Mephistopheles. Well, you will -admit that the little piece from the French and the one-act farce—‘God -Save the Queen’ was left out after the first night, through no fault of -mine, I assure you—you will admit that these two pieces did not make up -a very sensational bill of fare. I cannot conscientiously say that they -crammed the theatre for a fortnight, but what did that matter?—we were at -the Theatre Royal, Manchester, the manager was a man of substance, and -we were all very happy and comfortable. Besides ‘Faust and Marguerite,’ -there was a burlesque of Byron’s, ‘The Maid and the Magpie,’ in which I -also played, the part being that of an exceedingly heavy father; and you -will forgive me, I am sure, for saying that the very heavy father was -considered by some to be anything but a dull performance. But though the -houses were poor, we were a merry family. Our wants were few: we were not -extravagant. We had a good deal of exercise, and what we did not earn we -worked hard to borrow as frequently as possible from one another. Ah! -they were very happy days. But do not think that this was our practice -always of an afternoon; there was plenty of fine work done in the -theatre. The public of Manchester was in those days a critical public, -and could not long be satisfied with such meagre fare as I have pictured. -During the five years of my sojourn in Manchester there was a succession -of brilliant plays performed by first-rate actors, and I must say that I -owe much to the valuable experience which I gained in your Theatre Royal -under the management of John Knowles.” - -In his Manchester recollections, as we see, there are hints of very -serious struggles and privations. Such are, as says Boswell, “bark and -steel for the mind.” A man is the better for them, though the process is -painful; they assuredly teach resource and patience. Years after, the -actor, now grown celebrated and prosperous, used to relate, and relate -dramatically, this very touching little story of his struggles: - -“Perhaps the most remarkable Christmas dinner at which I have ever been -present was the one at which we dined upon underclothing. Do you remember -Joe Robins—a nice genial fellow who played small parts in the provinces? -Ah, no; that was before your time. Joe Robins was once in the gentleman’s -furnishing business in London city. I think he had a wholesale trade, and -was doing well. However, he belonged to one of the semi-Bohemian clubs, -associated a great deal with actors and journalists, and when an amateur -performance was organized for some charitable object, he was cast for -the clown in a burlesque called ‘Guy Fawkes.’ He determined to go upon -the stage professionally and become a great actor. Fortunately, Joe was -able to dispose of his stock and goodwill for a few hundreds, which he -invested so as to give him an income sufficient to prevent the wolf from -getting inside his door in case he did not eclipse Garrick, Kean, and -Kemble. He also packed up for himself a liberal supply of his wares, and -started in his profession with enough shirts, collars, handkerchiefs, -stockings, and underclothing to equip him for several years. - -“The amateur success of poor Joe was never repeated on the regular stage. -He did not make an absolute failure; no manager would entrust him with -parts big enough for him to fail in. But he drifted down to general -utility, and then out of London, and when I met him he was engaged in a -very small way, on a very small salary, at a Manchester theatre. - -“Christmas came in very bitter weather. Joe had a part in the Christmas -pantomime. He dressed with other poor actors, and he saw how thinly -some of them were clad when they stripped before him to put on their -stage costumes. For one poor fellow in especial his heart ached. In the -depth of a very cold winter he was shivering in a suit of very light -summer underclothing, and whenever Joe looked at him, the warm flannel -undergarments snugly packed away in an extra trunk weighed heavily on -his mind. Joe thought the matter over, and determined to give the actors -who dressed with him a Christmas dinner. It was literally a dinner upon -underclothing, for most of the shirts and drawers which Joe had cherished -so long went to the pawnbroker’s or the slop-shop to provide the money -for the meal. The guests assembled promptly, for nobody else is ever so -hungry as a hungry actor. The dinner was to be served at Joe’s lodgings, -and before it was placed on the table, Joe beckoned his friend with the -gauze underclothing into a bedroom, and pointing to a chair, silently -withdrew. On that chair hung a suit of underwear, which had been Joe’s -pride. It was of a comfortable scarlet colour; it was thick, warm, and -heavy; it fitted the poor actor as if it had been manufactured especially -to his measure. He put it on, and as the flaming flannels encased his -limbs, he felt his heart glowing within him with gratitude to dear Joe -Robins. - -“That actor never knew—or, if he knew, could never remember—what he -had for dinner on that Christmas afternoon. He revelled in the luxury -of warm garments. The roast beef was nothing to him in comparison with -the comfort of his under-vest; he appreciated the drawers more than -the plum-pudding. Proud, happy, warm, and comfortable, he felt little -inclination to eat; but sat quietly, and thanked Providence and Joe -Robins with all his heart. ‘You seem to enter into that poor actor’s -feelings very sympathetically.’ ‘I have good reason to do so, replied -Irving, with his sunshiny smile, ‘_for I was that poor actor_!’” - -This really simple, most affecting, incident he himself related when on -his first visit to America. - -Most actors have a partiality for what may be called fantastic freaks -or “practical jokes,” to be accounted for perhaps by a sort of reaction -from their own rather monotonous calling. The late Mr. Sothern delighted -in such pastimes, and Mr. Toole is not exactly indifferent to them. The -excitement caused by that ingenious pair of mountebanks, the Davenport -Brothers, will still be recalled: their appearance at Manchester early -in 1865 prompted our actor to a lively method of exposure, which he -carried out with much originality. With the aid of another actor, Mr. -Philip Day, and a prestidigitator, Mr. Frederic Maccabe, he arranged his -scheme, and invited a large number of friends and notables of the city -to a performance in the Athenæum. Assuming the dress characteristics -of a patron of the Brothers, one Dr. Ferguson, Irving came forward -and delivered a grotesque address, and then, in the usual familiar -style, proceeded to “tie up” his coadjutors in the cabinet, with the -accompaniments of ringing bells, beating tambourines, etc. The whole -was, as a matter of course, successful. It was not, however, strictly -within the programme of an actor who was “toiling at his oar,” though the -vivacity of youth was likely enough to have prompted it. - -On the eve of his departure from Manchester he determined on an ambitious -attempt, and, as already stated, played ‘Hamlet’ for his own benefit. The -company good-naturedly favoured his project, though they fancied it was -beyond his strength. It was, as he has told us, an extraordinary success, -and the performance was called for on several nights—a high compliment, -as it was considered, in the city, where the custom was to require a “new -bill” every night. He himself did not put much faith in the prophecies -of future eminence that were uttered on this occasion; he felt that, -after all, there was no likelihood of his emerging from the depressing -monotonous round of provincial histrionics. But rescue was nearer at hand -than he fancied. The stage is stored with surprises, and there, at least, -it is the unexpected that always, or usually, happens. - -Leaving Manchester, he passed to Edinburgh, Bury, Oxford, and even to -Douglas, Isle of Man, where the assembly-room used to do duty as a -“fit-up” theatre. For six months, from January to July, 1866, he was at -Liverpool with Mr. Alexander Henderson. - -Thus had he seen many men and many theatres and many audiences, and must -have learned many a rude lesson, besides learning his profession. At this -moment, as he described it long after, he found himself one day standing -on the steps of the theatre looking hopelessly down the street, and in a -sort of despair, without an engagement, and no very likely prospect of -engagement, not knowing, indeed, which way to turn, unless some “stroke -of luck” came. But the “actor’s luck,” as he said, “is really _work_;” -and the lucky actor is, above all, a worker. At this hopeless moment -arrived unexpectedly a proposal from Dion Boucicault that he should join -him at Manchester and take a leading character in his new piece. He -accepted; but with some shrewdness stipulated that should he succeed to -the author’s satisfaction, he was to obtain an engagement in London. This -was acceded to, and with a light heart he set off. - -Mr. Boucicault, indeed, long after in America boasted that it was his -good fortune to “discover Irving” in 1866, when he was playing in “the -country.” The performance took place on July 30, 1866. “He was cast -for a part in ‘Hunted Down,’ and played it so admirably that I invited -my friend Mr. Charles Reade to go and see him. He confirmed my opinion -so strongly, that when ‘Hunted Down’ was played in London a few months -afterwards, I gave it conditionally on Mr. Irving’s engagement. That -was his _début_ in London as a leading actor.” He added some judicious -criticism, distinguishing Irving as “an eccentric serious actor” from -Jefferson, who was “an eccentric comic actor.” “His mannerisms are -so very marked that an audience requires a long familiarity with his -style before it can appreciate many merits that are undeniable. It is -unquestionable that he is the greatest actor as a tragedian that London -has seen during the last fifty years.”[2] - -In this piece, ‘Mary Leigh and her Three Lives’ (which later became -‘Hunted Down’), the heroine was performed by Miss Kate Terry, at that -time the only member of a gifted family who had made a reputation. -Irving’s character was Rawdon Scudamore, a polished villain, to which he -imparted such force and _finesse_, that it impressed all who witnessed -it with the belief that here was an actor of striking power. It at once -gave him “a position,” and an impression of his gifts was of a sudden -left upon the profession, upon those even who had not seen him. No fewer -than three offers of engagement were made to him. The author of the -piece, as we have seen, was particularly struck with his powers; his -London engagement was now secure, and he was to receive a tempting offer, -through Mr. Tom Taylor, from the management of the St James’s Theatre, -about to open with the new season. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -1866. - -THE ST. JAMES’S THEATRE—‘HUNTED DOWN’—THE NEW VAUDEVILLE THEATRE—‘THE TWO -ROSES.’ - - -The directress of the new venture at the St. James’s Theatre was Miss -Herbert, a graceful, sympathetic person of much beauty, with exquisite -golden hair and almost devotional features, which supplied many of the -Pre-Raphaelite brethren with angelic faces for their canvases. On the -stage her efforts were directed by great intelligence and spirit, and -she was now about to essay all the difficulties and perplexities of -management. Like so many others, she had before her a very high ideal -of her office: the good, vivacious old comedies, with refined, correct -acting, were to entice the wayward public, with pieces by Reade, Tom -Taylor, and Boucicault. This pleasing actress was destined to have a -chequered course of struggle and adventure, a mingled yarn of success and -disappointment, and has long since retired from the stage. - -At the St. James’s Theatre the company was formed of the manageress -herself; of Walter Lacy, an actor of fine polish and grace; of Addison, -one of the old school; with that excellent mirth-making pair, the Frank -Mathews. The stage-manager was Irving. Here, then, he found himself, to -his inexpressible satisfaction, in a respected and respectable position, -one very different from that of the actor-of-all-work in the provinces. -Not the least comforting reflection was that he had won his way to this -station by remarkable talent and conscientious labour. The theatre -opened on October 6, 1866. ‘Hunted Down’ was the piece originally fixed -upon, but it could not be got ready in time, so a change was made to the -lively old comedy of the ‘Belle’s Stratagem,’ the name which it had been -originally proposed to give to Oliver Goldsmith’s ‘She Stoops to Conquer.’ - -The actor tells us of this interesting occasion: “I was cast for -Doricourt, a part which I had never played before, and which I thought -did not suit me; I felt that this was the opinion of the audience -soon after the play began. The house appeared to be indifferent, and -I believed that failure was conclusively stamped upon my work, when -suddenly, upon my exit after the mad scene, I was startled by a burst of -applause, and so great was the enthusiasm of the audience, that I was -compelled to reappear upon the scene, a somewhat unusual thing except -upon the operatic stage.”[3] This compliment is nearly always paid to our -actor when he performs this part. - -In the criticisms of the piece the efforts of the interesting -manageress-actress of course received the chief attention. Dramatic -criticism, however, at this time was of a somewhat slender kind, and the -elaborate study of an individual performer’s merits was not then in -fashion. The play itself was then “the thing,” and accordingly we find -the new actor’s exertions dealt with in a curt but encouraging style: -“Mr. H. Irving was the fine gentleman in Doricourt: but he was more, -for his mad scenes were truthfully conceived and most subtly executed.” -Thus the _Athenæum_. And Mr. Oxenford, with his usual reserve, after -pronouncing that the comedy was “a compound of English dulness and -Italian pantomime,” added that Doricourt “was heavy company till he -feigns madness, and the mock insanity represented by Mr. H. Irving is the -cause of considerable mirth.” This slight and meagre tribute contrasts -oddly with the elaborate fulness of stage criticism in our day. - -The piece has always continued in the actor’s _répertoire_, after being -compressed into a few scenes. The rich, old-fashioned dress and powder -suits the performer and sets off his intelligent features, which wear a -smiling expression, as though consciously enjoying the comedy flavour of -the piece. - -A little later, on November 5, ‘Hunted Down’ was brought forward, in -which the actor, as Rawdon Scudamore, made a deep impression. It was -declared that the part “completely served the purpose of displaying -the talent of Mr. Henry Irving, whose ability in depicting the most -vindictive feelings, _merely by dint of facial expression_, is very -remarkable.” Facial expression is, unhappily, but little used on our -English stage, and yet it is one of the most potent agencies—more so than -speech or gesture.[4] It was admitted, too, that he displayed another -precious gift—reserve—conveying even more than he expressed: a store of -secret villainy as yet unrevealed. Many were the compliments paid him on -this creation; and friends of Charles Dickens know how much struck he -was with the new actor’s impersonation. The novelist was always eager to -recognise new talent of this kind. Some years later, “Charles Dickens the -younger,” as he was then called, related at a banquet how his celebrated -father had once gone to see the ‘Lancashire Lass,’ and on his return -home had said: “But there was a young fellow in the play who sits at the -table and is bullied by Sam Emery; his name is Henry Irving, and if that -young man does not one day come out as a great actor, I know nothing of -art.” A worthy descendant of the Kembles, Mrs. Sartoris, also heartily -appreciated his powers.[5] During the season a round of pieces were -brought forward, such as ‘The Road to Ruin,’ ‘The School for Scandal’ -(in which he played young Dornton and Joseph Surface), ‘Robert Macaire,’ -and a new Robertson drama, ‘A Rapid Thaw,’ in which he took the part of -a conventional Irishman, O’Hoolagan! It must have been a quaint surprise -to see our actor in a Hibernian character. After the season closed, the -company went “on tour” to Liverpool, Dublin, and other towns.[6] - -Miss Herbert’s venture, like so many other ventures planned on an -intellectual basis, did not flourish exceedingly; and in the course of -the years that followed we find our actor appearing rather fitfully -at various London theatres, which at this time, before the great -revival of the stage, were in rather an unsettled state. He went with -Sothern to play in Paris, appearing at the Théâtre des Italiens, and -in December, 1867, found an engagement at the Queen’s Theatre in Long -Acre, a sort of “converted” concert-room, where nothing seemed to -thrive; and here for the first time he played with Miss Ellen Terry, -in ‘Catherine and Petruchio’ (a piece it might be well worth while to -revive at the Lyceum); and in that very effective drama, ‘Dearer than -Life,’ with Brough and Toole; in ‘The School for Scandal’; also making a -striking effect in ‘Bill Sikes.’ I fancy this character, though somewhat -discounted by Dubosc, would, if revived, add to his reputation. We find -him also performing the lugubrious Falkland in ‘The Rivals.’ He also -played Redburn in the highly popular ‘Lancashire Lass,’ which “ran” -for many months. At the Queen’s Theatre he remained for over a year, -not making any marked advance in his profession, owing to the lack of -favourable opportunities. He had a part in Watts Phillips’ drama of ‘Not -Guilty.’ Then, in 1869, he came to the Haymarket, and had an engagement -at Drury Lane in Boucicault’s ‘Formosa,’ a piece that gave rise to -much excited discussion on the ground of the “moralities.” His part -was, however, colourless, being little more than a cardboard figure: -anything fuller or rounder would have been lost on so huge a stage. It -was performed, or “ran,” for over a hundred nights. With his sensitive, -impressionable nature the performance of so barren a character must -have been positive pain: his dramatic soul lay blank and fallow during -the whole of that unhappy time. Not very much ground had been gained -beyond the reputation of a sound and useful performer. Relying on my -own personal impressions—for I followed him from the beginning of his -course—I should say that the first distinct effort that left prominent -and distinct impression was his performance at the Gaiety Theatre, in -December, 1869, of the cold, pompous Mr. Chenevix, in Byron’s ‘Uncle -Dick’s Darling.’ It was felt at once, as I then felt, that here was a -rich original creation, a figure that lingered in the memory, and which -you followed, as it moved, with interest and pleasure. There was a -surprising finish and reserve. It was agreed that we had now an actor of -_genre_, who had the power of creating a character. The impression made -was really remarkable, and this specimen of good, pure comedy was set -off by the pathetic acting of “friend Toole,” who played ‘Uncle Dick.’ -This was a turning-point in his career, and no doubt led to an important -advance. But these days of uncertainty were now to close. I can recall -my own experience of the curious pleasure and satisfaction left by the -performance of this unfamiliar actor, who suggested so much more than -the rather meagre character itself conveyed. I found myself drawn to see -it several times, and still the feeling was always that of some secret -undeveloped power in the clever, yet unpretending, performer. - -Irving can tell a story in the pleasantest “high comedy” manner, and -without laying emphasis on points. In May last, being entertained by the -“Savages,” he made a most agreeable speech, and related this adventure -of his early Bohemian days, in illustration of the truth that “it is -always well to have a personal acquaintance with a presiding magistrate.” -“I had driven one night from the Albion to some rooms I occupied in old -Quebec Street, and after bidding the cabman farewell, I was preparing -to seek repose, when there came a knock at the door. Upon opening it -I found the cabman, who said that I had given him a bad half-crown. -Restraining myself, I told him ‘to be—to begone.’ I shut the door, but -in a few moments there came another knock, and with the cabman appeared -a policeman, who said, with the grave formality of his office, ‘You -are charged with passing a bad half-crown, and must come with me to -the police-station.’ I explained that I was a respectable, if unknown, -citizen, pursuing a noble, though precarious, calling, and that I could -be found in the morning at the address I had given. The policeman was -not at all impressed by that, so I jumped into the cab and went to the -station, where the charge was entered upon the night-sheet, and I was -briefly requested to make myself at home. ‘Do you intend me to spend the -night here?’ I said to the inspector. ‘Certainly,’ he said; ‘that is the -idea.’ So I asked him to oblige me with a pencil and a piece of paper, -which he reluctantly gave me. I addressed a few words to Sir Thomas -Henry, who was then presiding magistrate at Bow Street, and with whom I -had an intimacy, in an unofficial capacity. The inspector looked at me. -‘Do you know Sir Thomas Henry?’ he said. ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I have that -honour.’ The officer suddenly turned round to the policeman and said, -‘What do you mean by bringing such a charge against this gentleman?’ -Then he turned fiercely on the cabman, and nearly kicked him out of the -office. I returned home triumphantly in the cab. I cannot give a young -‘Savage’ first starting on his career a sounder piece of advice than -this—‘Always know your own mind, and also a magistrate.’” We practised -_littérateurs_ might well envy the pleasant facility and point with which -this is told. - -About this time an attractive actor, who had been much followed on -account of his good looks, one Harry Montague, had joined in management -with two diverting drolls—as they were then—James and Thorne, who were -the pillars of burlesque at the Strand Theatre. All three felt a sort -of inspiration that they were capable of something higher and more -“legitimate”—an impression which the event has more than justified. The -two last, by assiduous study and better opportunities, became admirable -comedians. A sort of club that had not prospered was lying unused in the -Strand, and a little alteration converted it into a theatre. The three -managers were anxiously looking for a piece of modern manners which -would exhibit to advantage their several gifts. A young fellow, who had -left his desk for playwriting, had brought them a sort of comedy which -was in a very crude state, but which, it seemed likely, could be made -what they wanted; and by the aid of their experience and suggestions, it -was fashioned into shape. Indeed, it proved that never was a piece more -admirably suited to the company that played it. The characters fitted -them all, as it is called, “like gloves.” They were bright, interesting, -natural, and humorous; the story was pleasing and interesting, and the -dialogue agreeable and smart. Such was ‘The Two Roses,’ which still holds -the stage, though it now seems a little old-fashioned. Irving was one of -the performers, and was perhaps the best suited of the group. The perfect -success of the piece proved how advantageous is the old system of having -a piece “written in the theatre,” when the intelligence of the performers -and that of the managers are brought in aid of each other. The little -house opened on April 16, 1870, with a piece of Mr. Halliday’s; and it -was not until a few weeks later that the piece was brought forward—on -June 4. The success was instantaneous. - -The unctuous Honey, in his own line an excellent original actor, raised -in the good old school of the “low comedian,” which has now disappeared, -was the good-natured Bagman—a part taken later by James, who was also -excellent. Thorne was efficient, and sufficiently reserved, in the -rather unmeaning blind Caleb Decie; while Montague was the gallant and -interesting hero, Jack Wyatt. The two girls were represented in pleasing -fashion by Miss Amy Fawcitt and Miss Newton. The piece, as I have said, -owed much to the actors, though these again owed much to the piece. It -is difficult to adjust the balance of obligation in such cases; but good -actors can make nothing of a bad play, whereas a good play may make -good actors. Irving, as Digby Grant, was the chief attraction, and his -extraordinarily finished and varied playing of that insincere and selfish -being excited general admiration. - -It has not been noticed, in these days of appropriation, that the piece -was practically an ingenious variation, or adaptation, of Dickens’ -‘Little Dorrit.’ For here we find old Dorrit, his two daughters, and one -of their admirers; also the constant loans, the sudden good fortune, and -the equally sudden reverse. It was easy to see that the piece had been -formed by the evolution of this one character, the legitimate method, it -has always seemed to me, of making a play; whereas the average dramatist -adopts a reverse practice of finding a story, and then finding characters -for it. Character itself _is_ a story. The character of Digby Grant was -the first that gave him firm hold of public favour. It belongs to pure -comedy—a fidgety, selfish being, self-deluded by the practice of social -hypocrisies, querulous, scheming, wheedling. It is curious that a very -good actor, who later filled the part, took the villainy _au sérieux_, -giving the complaint, “_You annoy me very much!_” repeated so often, as a -genuine reproach, and with anger. Irving’s was the true view—a simulated -vexation, “_You annoy me very much!_” The audience sees that he is not -“annoyed very much.” - -After our actor’s visit to America, his performance was noticed -to be more elaborate and laboured, but it had lost some of its -spontaneousness—a result which, it has been noted, is too often the -result of playing to American audiences, who are pleased with broad -effects. This piece continued to be played for about a year—then thought -to be a prodigious run, though it is now found common enough—during which -time Irving’s reputation steadily increased.[7] - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -1871. - -‘THE BELLS’—WILLS’S ‘CHARLES I.’ - - -Among those who had taken note of Irving’s efforts was a “long-headed” -American manager, whose loudly-expressed criticism was that “he ought -to play Richelieu!” This was a far-seeing view. Many years before, this -manager had been carrying round the country his two “prodigy” daughters, -who had attracted astonishment by their precocious playing in a pretty -little piece of courtship, called ‘The Young Couple.’ The elder later -won favour by her powerful and intense acting in ‘Leah’; and he was -now about taking a theatre with a view of bringing forward his second -daughter, Isabel. It seems curious now to think that the handsome, -elegantly-designed Lyceum Theatre, built by an accomplished architect -on the most approved principles, was then lying derelict, as it were, -and at the service of any stray _entrepreneur_. It could be had on very -cheap terms, for at this time the revival of theatrical interest had not -yet come; the theatre, not yet in high fashion, was conducted on rude, -coarse lines. The attractions of the old correct comedy, as seen at the -Haymarket, were waning, and the old companies were beginning to break up. -Buckstone and Webster were in their decay, yet still lagged ingloriously -on the stage. The pit and galleries were catered for. Theatres were -constantly opening, and as constantly closing. Burlesques of the Gaiety -pattern were coming into favour. In this state of things the shrewd -American saw an opportunity. He had an excellent coadjutor in his wife, a -clever, hard working lady, with characteristics that often suggested the -good-natured Mrs. Crummles, but without any of her eccentricities. Her -husband took the Lyceum, and proceeded to form a company; and one of his -first steps was to offer an engagement to Irving. - -The new venture started on September 11, 1871, with an unimportant piece, -‘Fanchette,’ founded on George Sand’s ‘Petite Fadette,’ in which our -actor had a character quite unsuited to his gifts, a sort of peasant -lover.[8] The object was to introduce the manager’s daughter, Isabel, -in a fantastical part, but the piece was found “too French,” and rather -far-fetched. It failed very disastrously. The young actor, of course, had -to bear his share in the failure; but he could not have dreamt at that -moment that here he was to find his regular home, and that for twenty -long years he was destined never to be away from the shadow of the great -portico of the Lyceum. - -The prospect for the American manager was now not very encouraging. He -had made a serious mistake at starting. In a few weeks he had replaced it -by a version of _Pickwick_, with a view of utilizing his chief comedian’s -talent as “Jingle.” The play was but a rude piece of carpentry, without -any of the flavour of the novel, hastily put together and acted -indifferently; the actors were dressed after the pictures in the story, -but did not catch the spirit of their characters. Irving in face and -figure and dress was thoroughly Pickwickian, and reproduced Seymour and -Hablot Browne’s sketch, very happily catching the recklessness and rattle -of the original. Still, it was difficult to avoid the suggestion of -‘Jeremy Diddler,’ or of the hero of ‘A Race for a Dinner.’ The reason, -perhaps, was that the adaptation was conceived in a purely farcical -spirit. It has always seemed to me that “the Immortal Pickwick” should -be treated as comedy rather than farce, and would be more effective on -the stage were the Jingle scenes set forth with due seriousness and -sincerity. The incidents at the Rochester Ball, for instance, belong to -pure comedy, and would be highly effective. Some years later Irving put -the work into the not very skilful hands of Albery, who reduced it to -the proportions of a farce with some pathetic elements. It was called -‘Jingle.’ - -At this time there was “hanging loose on” the theatres, as Dr. Johnson -once phrased it, one Leopold Lewis, who had been seduced from an office -by the enchantments of the stage. He had made a translation of a very -striking French play, ‘Le Juif Polonais,’ which had been shown to the new -actor. This, as is well known, was by the gifted pair Erckmann-Chatrian, -whose realistic but picturesque stories, that call up before us the old -“Elsass” life, show extraordinary dramatic power. This ‘Juif Polonais’ is -more a succession of tableaux than a formal play, but, like ‘L’Ami Fritz’ -of the same writers, it has a charm that is irresistible. It is forgotten -that a version of this piece had already been brought before the public -at one of the minor theatres, which was the work of Mr. F. C. Burnand, -at that time a busy caterer for the theatres, chiefly of melodramas, such -as the ‘Turn of the Tide’ and ‘Deadman’s Point.’ - -“Much against the wish of my friends,” says our actor, “I took an -engagement at the Lyceum, then under the management of Mr. Bateman. I -had successfully acted in many plays besides ‘The Two Roses,’ which ran -three hundred nights. It was thought by everybody interested in such -matters that I ought to identify myself with what they called ‘character -parts’; though what that phrase means, by the way, I never could exactly -understand, for I have a prejudice in the belief that every part should -be a character. I always wanted to play in the higher drama. Even in my -boyhood my desire had been in that direction. When at the Vaudeville -Theatre, I recited the poem of ‘Eugene Aram,’ simply to get an idea as -to whether I could impress an audience with a tragic theme. I hoped I -could, and at once made up my mind to prepare myself to play characters -of another type. When Mr. Bateman engaged me he told me he would give -me an opportunity, if he could, to play various parts, as it was to -his interest as much as to mine to discover what he thought would be -successful—though, of course, never dreaming of ‘Hamlet’ or of ‘Richard -III.’ Well, the Lyceum opened, but did not succeed. Mr. Bateman had lost -a lot of money, and he intended giving it up. He proposed to me to go -to America with him. By my advice, and against his wish, ‘The Bells’ -was rehearsed, but he did not believe in it much. When he persuaded the -manager to produce ‘The Bells,’ he was told there was a prejudice against -that sort of romantic play. It produced a very poor house, although a -most enthusiastic one. From that time the theatre prospered.” - -Our actor, thus always earnest and persuasive, pressed his point, and -at last extorted consent—and the play, which required scarcely any -mounting, was performed on November 25, 1871. At that time I was living -in the south of France, in a remote and solitary place, and I recollect -the surprise and curiosity with which I heard and read of the powerful -piece that had been produced, and of the more extraordinary triumph of -the new actor. Everyone, according to the well-worn phrase, seemed to be -“electrified.” The story was novel, and likely to excite the profoundest -interest. - -An extraordinary alteration, due, I believe, to the manager, was the -introduction of the vision of the Jew in his sledge, a device unmeaning -and illogical. In the original the morbid remorse of the guilty man is -roused by the visit of a travelling Jew, which very naturally excites his -perturbed spirit. But this vision discounts, as it were, and enfeebles -the _second_ vision. The piece would have been presented under far more -favourable conditions had it been prepared by or adapted by someone of -more skill and delicacy than Mr. Leopold Lewis. - -For twenty years and more this remarkable impersonation has kept its -hold upon audiences, and whenever it is revived for an occasional -performance or for a longer “run,” it never fails to draw full houses; -and so it doubtless will do to the end of the actor’s career. It was his -introduction to the American audiences; and it is likely enough that it -will be the piece in which he will take his farewell. - -The new actor was now becoming a “personality.” Everyone of note -discovered that he was interesting in many ways, and was eager to -know such a man. The accomplished Sir E. Bulwer Lytton wrote that his -performance was “too admirable not to be appreciated by every competent -judge of art,” and added, “that any author would be fortunate who -obtained his assistance in some character that was worthy of his powers.” -A little later the actor took this hint, and was glad to do full justice -to several pieces of this brilliant and gifted writer. - -At this time there was a clever young man “on town” who had furnished -Mr. Vezin with a fine and effective play, ‘The Man o’ Airlie,’ from a -German original. He was a poet of much grace, his lines were musical, and -suited for theatrical delivery; he had been successful as a novelist, and -was, moreover, a portrait-painter in the elegant art of pastel, then but -little practised. In this latter direction it was predicted that he was -likely to win a high position, but the attractions of the stage were too -strong for him. Becoming acquainted with the popular actor, a subject for -a new creation was suggested by his very physique and dreamy style. This -was the story of the unhappy Charles I. Both the manager and the player -welcomed the suggestion, and the dramatist set to work. Though possessed -of true feeling and a certain inspiration, the author was carried away -by his ardour into a neglect of the canons of the stage, writing masses -of poetry of inordinate length, which he brought to his friends at the -theatre, until they at last began to despair. Many changes had to be made -before the poem could be brought into satisfactory shape; and, by aid of -the tact and experience of the manager and his actor, the final act was -at last completed to the satisfaction of all.[9] - -‘Charles I.’ was brought out on September 28, 1872. Having been present -on this night, I can recall the tranquil pleasure and satisfaction and -absorbing interest which this very legitimate and picturesque performance -imparted, while the melodious and poetical lines fell acceptably on the -ear. This tranquil tone contrasted effectively with the recent tumult and -agitation of ‘The Bells.’ It was a perfect success, and the author shared -in the glories. - -Only lately we followed the once popular Wills to his grave in the -Brompton Cemetery. His somewhat erratic and, I fear, troubled course -closed in the month of December, 1891. There was a curious suggestion, -or reminiscence, of his countryman Goldsmith in his character and ways. -Like that great poet, he had a number of “hangers-on” and admirers who -were always welcome to his “bit and sup,” and helped to kill the hours. -If there was no bed there was a sofa. There were stories, too, of a -“piece purse” on the chimney to which people might apply. He had the -same sanguine temperament as Goldsmith, and the slightest opening would -present him with a magnificent prospect, on which his ready imagination -would lavish all sorts of roseate hues. He was always going to make -his fortune, or to make a “great hit.” He had the same heedless way of -talking, making warm and even ardent protestations and engagements which -he could not help forgetting within an hour. But these were amiable -weaknesses. He had a thoroughly good heart, was as sensitive as a woman, -or as _some_ women, affectionate and generous. His life, I fear, was to -the close one of troubles and anxiety. He certainly did much for the -Lyceum, and was our actor’s favourite author. ‘Charles I.,’ ‘Eugene -Aram,’ ‘Olivia,’ ‘Iolanthe,’ ‘Faust,’ ‘Vanderdecken’ (in part), ‘Don -Quixote’—these were his contributions. - -The play was written after the correct and classical French model. The -opening scene, as a bit of pictorial effect—the placid garden of Hampton -Court, with a startling reproduction of Vandyke’s figure—has always been -admired, and furnishes “the note” of the play. All through the actor -presented a spectacle of calm and dignified suffering, that disdained -to resent or protest; some of his pathetic passages, such as the gentle -rebuke to the faithless Huntley and the parting with his children, have -always made the handkerchiefs busy. - -The leading actor was well supported by Miss Isabel Bateman in the -character of the Queen, to which she imparted a good deal of pathetic -feeling and much grace. For many years she was destined to figure in -all the pieces in which he played. This, it need not be said, was of -advantage for the development of her powers. Even a mediocre performer -cannot withstand the inspiration that comes of such companionship; while -constant playing with a really good actor has often made a good actress. -But the manager, who had some odd, native notions of his own, as to -delicacy and the refinements generally, must have rather inconvenienced -or disturbed—to say the least of it—our actor, by giving him as a -coadjutor, in the part of Cromwell, an effective low-comedy actor of -_genre_, in the person of Mr. George Belmore, who did his work with a -conscientious earnestness, but with little colouring or picturesque -effect. On a later occasion he supplied another performer who was yet -more unsuited—viz., the late Mr. John Clayton—who used to open the -night’s proceedings in a light rattling touch-and-go farce, such as -‘A Regular Fix.’ Both these actors, excellent in their line, lacked -the weight and dignified associations necessary for the high school of -tragedy.[10] - -One of those vehement and amusing discussions which occasionally arise -out of a play, and furnish prodigious excitement for the public, was -aroused by the conception taken of Cromwell, which was, in truth, opposed -to tradition; for the Protector was exhibited as willing to condone the -King’s offences, and to desert his party, for the “consideration” of a -marriage between himself and one of the King’s daughters. This ludicrous -view, based on some loose gossip, was, reasonably enough, thought -to degrade Cromwell’s character, and the point was debated with much -fierceness. - -During the “run” of ‘Charles I.’ the successful dramatist was busy -preparing a new poetical piece on the subject of Eugene Aram. It is not -generally known that the author himself dramatized his story. This was -produced on April 19, 1873, but the tone seemed to be too lugubrious, -the actor passing from one mournful soliloquy to another. There was but -little action. The ordinary versions are more effective. But the actor -himself produced a deep, poetical impression. - -The manager, now in the height of success, adopted a style of “bold -advertisement,” that suggested Elliston’s amusing exaggerations.[11] The -piece ran for over one hundred and fifty nights, to May 17, 1873, and -during a portion of the time the versatile player would finish the night -with ‘Jeremy Diddler.’ - -The new season of 1873 began on September 27, with Lord Lytton’s -‘Richelieu.’ It is a tribute to the prowess of that gifted man that -his three pieces—the ever-fresh and fair ‘Lady of Lyons,’ ‘Money,’ and -‘Richelieu’—should be really the only genuine stock-pieces of the modern -stage. They never seem out of fashion, and are always welcomed. It might -be said, indeed, that there is hardly a night on which the ‘Lady of -Lyons’ is not _somewhere_ acted. In ‘Richelieu’ the actor presented a -truly picturesque figure—he was aged, tottering, nervous, but rallying -to full vigour when the occasion called. The well-known scene, where he -invokes “the curse of Rome,” produced extraordinary enthusiasm, cheers, -waving of handkerchiefs, and a general uproar from the pit. It was in -this piece that those “mannerisms” which have been so often “girded -at,” often with much pitilessness, began to attract attention. In this -part, as in the first attempt in ‘Macbeth,’ there was noted a lack of -restraint, something hysterical at times, when control seemed to be set -aside. The truth is, most of his attempts at this period were naturally -_experiments_, and very different from those deliberate, long-prepared, -and well-matured representations he offered under the responsibility of -serious management. - -This piece was succeeded by an original play, ‘Philip,’ by an agreeable -writer who had made a name as a novelist, Mr. Hamilton Aïdé—a dramatic -story of the average pattern, and founded on jealousy. It was produced on -February 7, and enjoyed a fair share of success. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -1874. - -‘HAMLET’—‘OTHELLO’—‘MACBETH’—DEATH OF ‘THE COLONEL’—‘QUEEN MARY.’ - - -But now was to be made a serious experiment, on which much was to depend. -Hitherto Irving had not travelled out of the regions of conventional -drama, or of what might be called romantic melodrama; but he was now -to lay hands on the ark, and attempt the most difficult and arduous of -Shakespearian characters, Hamlet. Every actor has a dream of performing -the character, and fills up his disengaged moments with speculations as -to the interpretation. The vitality of this wonderful play is such that -it nearly always is a novelty for the audience, because the character is -fitfully changeful, and offers innumerable modes of interpretation. - -The momentous trial was made on October 31, 1874. It had long and -studiously been prepared for: and the actor, in his solitary walks -during the days of his provincial servitude, had worked out his formal -conception of the character. There was much curiosity and expectation; -and it was noted that so early as three o’clock in the afternoon a dense -crowd had assembled in the long tunnel that leads from the Strand to -the pit door. I was present in the audience, and can testify to the -excitement. Nothing I have ever seen on the stage, except perhaps the -burst that greeted Sarah Bernhardt’s speech in ‘Phèdre’ on the first -night of the French Comedy in London, has approached the tumult of the -moment when the actor, after the play scene, flung himself into the -King’s chair. - -Our actor judiciously took account of all criticisms, and with later -performances subdued or toned down what was extravagant. The whole gained -in thoughtfulness and in general meditative tone, and it is admitted that -the meaning of the intricate soliloquies could not be more distinctly or -more intelligibly conveyed to an audience. He played a good deal with his -face, as it is called: with smilings of intelligence, as if interested or -amused. But, as a whole, his conception of the character may be said to -remain the same as it was on that night. - -The play was mounted with the favourite economy of the manager, -and contrasted with the unsparing lavishness of decoration which -characterized its later revival. But the actors were good. The sound, -“full-bodied” old Chippendale was Polonius; Swinburne, also of the old -school, was the King; and the worthy Mead, long ago a star himself, -and one of Mr. Phelps’ corps, “discharged” the Ghost with admirable -impression and elocution.[12] He has now passed away, after long service, -to “that bourne,” etc. Miss Bateman was interesting, and Mrs. Pauncefort, -who was till lately at the Lyceum, was an excellent Queen. Actor and -manager expected much success for ‘Hamlet,’ and counted on a run of -eighty nights, but it was performed for two hundred! To the present hour -it has always continued—though sparingly revived—the most interesting of -the actor’s performances, looked for with an intellectual curiosity. - -In March the hundredth night of ‘Hamlet’ was celebrated by a banquet, -given in the saloon of the Lyceum Theatre, at which all the critics and -literary persons connected with the stage were present. This method of -festivity has since become familiar enough, owing to the never-flagging -hospitality of the later manager of the Lyceum, and offers a striking -contrast to the older days, when it was intimated that “_chicken and -champagne_” was a ready method of propitiating the critics. Mr. Pigott, -who had recently been appointed the Licenser of Plays, a man of many -friends, from his amiability—now, alas! gone from us—proposed the health -of the lessee, which was followed by the health of the actor and of the -author of the establishment, the latter, as it was rather sarcastically -said, “giving the hundred and odd literary men present the oft-repeated -illustration of how far apart are authorship and oratory.” The good old -Chippendale told how he had played Polonius to the Hamlet of Kemble, -Kean, Young, and other famous tragedians; but protested that “the most -natural and, to his mind, the most truthful representation he had seen -was that of his friend here.” Something must be allowed for post-prandial -exuberance, and no one could more shrewdly appreciate their value than -the actor himself. We may be certain that in his “heart of heart” he did -not agree that he had excelled Kemble, Kean, Young, and the others. It -was interesting, however, to meet such histrionic links with the past, -which are now broken. Mr. Howe is perhaps the only person now surviving -who could supply reminiscences of the kind. - -A second Shakespearian piece was now determined on, and on February 14, -1875, ‘Othello’ was brought out. This, it was admitted, was not a very -effective performance. It was somewhat hysterical, and in his agitation -the actor exhibited movements almost panther-like, with many strange and -novel notes. The ascetic face, too, was not in harmony with the dusky -lineaments of ‘the Moor.’ Here, again, his notion of the character was -immature. - -In the full tide of all this prosperity, theatre-goers were startled to -learn that the shrewd and capable manager, the energetic “old Colonel,” -as he was styled by his friends, was dead. This event occurred, with -great suddenness, on Monday, March 22, 1875. On the Sunday he had been -at a banquet at a Pall Mall restaurant in company with his leading actor -and other friends, but on the next day, complaining of a headache, he lay -down. His daughter went as usual to the theatre, to which word was soon -brought that he had passed away peacefully. It was thought advisable to -let the performance be completed, and the strange coincidence was noted -that while his child was bewailing the loss of her theatrical sire, the -old Polonius, she was unconscious of the blow which had deprived her of -her real parent. - -There was much speculation as to what arrangement would follow, and -some surprise when it was announced that the widow was ready to step -intrepidly into his place, and carry on matters exactly as before. The -mainstay of the house was ready to support her, and though bound by -his engagement, he would, had he been so inclined, have found it easy -to dissolve it, or make it impracticable. He resolved to lend his best -efforts to support the undertaking, in which his views would, of course, -prevail. It was hardly a prudent arrangement, as the result proved, for -the three years that followed were scarcely advantageous to his progress. -The management was to be of a thrifty kind, without boldness, and lacking -the shrewd, safe instincts of the late manager; while the actor had the -burden, without the freedom, of responsibility. It struck some that the -excellent Mrs. Bateman was “insisting” somewhat too much upon the family -element. The good-hearted, busy, and managing lady was in truth unsuited -to bear the burden of a great London theatre, and what woman could be? -her views were hardly “large” enough, and too old-fashioned. The public -was not slow to find all this out, and the fortunes of the theatre -began almost at once to change. Our actor, ambitious, and encouraged by -plaudits, was eager to essay new parts; and the manageress, entirely -dependent on his talent, was naturally anxious to gratify him. Here it -was that the deliberation of the “old Colonel” became valuable. He would -debate a question, examine it from all points, feel the public pulse, and -this rational conduct influenced his coadjutor. Irving was, in truth, in -a false position. - -‘Macbeth’ was speedily got ready, and produced on September 18, 1875. -Miss Bateman, of Leah fame, was the Lady Macbeth, but the performance -scarcely added to her reputation. The actor, as may be conceived, was -scarcely then suited, by temperament or physique, to the part, and by a -natural instinct made it conform to his own particular qualifications. -His conception was that of a dreamy, shrinking being, overwhelmed with -terrors and remorse, speaking in whispers, and enfeebled by his own -dismal ruminations. There was general clamour and fierce controversy -over this reading, for by this time the sympathetic powers of the player -had begun to exercise their attraction. He had a large and passionately -enthusiastic following; but there were Guelphs and Ghibellines, -Irvingites and anti-Irvingites—the latter a scornful and even derisive -faction. I could fancy some of the old school, honest “Jack” Ryder, for -instance, as they patrolled the Strand at mid-day, expatiating on the -folly of the public: “Call _him_ an actor!” Some of them had played with -Macready, “and _they_ should think they knew pretty well what acting -was!” This resentful tone has been evoked again and again with every new -actor.[13] - -Objection was taken to the uncertainty in the touches; the figure did -not “stand out” so much as it ought. Much of this, however, was owing -to the lack of effect in the Lady Macbeth, who, assuming hoarse and -“charnel-house” tones, seemed to suggest something of Meg Merrilies. On -the later revival, however, his interpretation became bold, firm, and -consistent. The play had, however, a good deal of attraction, and was -played for some eighty nights. - -The King in Tennyson’s play-poem, ‘Queen Mary,’ I have always thought -one of the best, most picturesque, of Irving’s impersonations, from the -realization it offered of the characters, impressions, feelings, of what -he represented: it was complete in every point of view. As regards its -length, it might be considered trifling; but it became important because -of the _largeness_ of the place it fitted. Profound was the impression -made by the actor’s Philip—not by what he had to say, which was little, -or by what he had to do, which was less, or by the dress or “make-up,” -which was remarkable. He seemed to speak by the expression of his figure -and glances; and apart from the meaning of his spoken words, there was -another meaning beyond—viz., the character, the almost diseased solitude, -the heartless indifference, and other odious historical characteristics -of the Prince, with which it was plain the actor had filled himself. Mr. -Whistler’s grim, antique portrait conveys this perfectly. - -His extraordinary success was now to rouse the jealousy, and even -malignity, which followed his course in his earlier days, and was not -unaccompanied with coarse ridicule and caricature, directed against -the actor’s legs even. “Do you know,” said a personage of Whistlerian -principles—“do you know, it seems to me there is a great deal of _pathos_ -in Irving’s legs, particularly in the _left_ leg!” - -A letter had appeared, in January, 1876, in _Fun_, the _Punch_ of the -middle and lower class, addressed to “The Fashionable Tragedian.” It -affected alarm at the report that, “so soon as the present failure -can with dignity be withdrawn,” he intended to startle the public and -Shakespearian scholars with ‘Othello.’ In the name of that humanity -“to which, in spite of your transcendent abilities, you cannot help -belonging,” he was entreated to forbear, if only for the sake of order -and morality. “With the hireling fashion of the press at your command, -you have induced the vulgar and unthinking to consider you a model of -histrionic ability.” In the course of the investigation the article was -traced to a writer who has since become popular as a dramatist, and who, -as might be expected, has furnished a fair proportion of murders and -other villainies to the stage. What was behind the attack it would be -difficult to say; but there are people to whom sudden unexpected success -is a subject of irritation. Just as hypocrisy is the homage paid to vice, -so it may be that the attacks of this kind are some of the penalties that -have to be paid for success. - -When the theatre closed in 1876, the indefatigable manageress organized -a tour of the company in the provinces, with the view of introducing the -new tragedian to country audiences. There was, as may be conceived, a -prodigious curiosity to see him, and the tour was very successful. She -brought to the task her usual energy and spirit of organization; though -with so certain an attraction, the tour, like a good piece, might be said -to “play itself,” on the principle of _ma femme et cinq poupées_. I can -recall the image of the busy lady on one of these nights at Liverpool or -Birmingham, seated in her office, surrounded by papers, the play going -on close by, the music of a house crowded to overflowing being borne -to her ears. There was here the old Nickleby flavour, and a primitive, -homely spirit that contrasts oddly with the present brilliant system of -“touring,” which must be “up to date,” as it is called, and supported by -as much lavishness and magnificence as is expected in the Metropolis. -After the piece came the pleasant little supper at the comfortable -lodgings. - -On this occasion he was to receive the first of those intellectual -compliments which have since been paid him by most of the leading -Universities. At Dublin he excited much enthusiasm among the professors -and students of Trinity College. He was invited to receive an address -from both Fellows and students, which was presented by Lord Ashbourne, -lately Lord Chancellor of Ireland, then a Queen’s Counsel. This was -conceived in the most flattering and complimentary terms. - -About this time there arrived in England the Italian actor Salvini, of -great reputation in his own country. He presented himself at Drury Lane, -then a great, dilapidated “Dom-Daniel” stored with ancient scenery, -wardrobes, and nearly always associated with disaster. In its chilling -area, and under these depressing conditions, he exhibited a very original -and dramatic conception of the Moor, chiefly marked by Southern fire -and passion. The earlier performances were sad to witness, owing to the -meagre attendance, but soon enthusiasm was kindled. It was likely that -mean natures, who had long resented the favour enjoyed by the English -actor, should here see an opportunity of setting up a rival, and of -diminishing, if possible, his well-earned popularity. Comparisons of a -rather offensive kind were now freely made, and the next manœuvre was -to industriously spread reports that the English actor was stung by an -unworthy jealousy, that the very presence of the Italian was torture to -him, and that he would not even go to see his performance. These reports -were conveyed to the Italian, who was naturally hurt, and stood coldly -aloof. The matter being thus inflamed, Irving, himself deeply resenting -the unjust imputation made on him, felt it would be undignified to seek -to justify himself for offences that he had not committed. Everyone knows -that during a long course of years no foreign actor has visited the -Lyceum without experiencing, not merely the lavish hospitality of its -manager, but a series of thoughtful kindnesses and services. But in the -present case there were unfortunately disturbing influences at work. - -Indeed, as the actor day by day rose in public estimation, the flood -of caricatures, skits, etc., never relaxed. He could afford to smile -contemptuously at these efforts, and after a time they ceased to appear. -The tide was too strong to be resisted, and the lampooners even were -constrained to join in the general eulogy.[14] At one of them he must -himself have been amused—a pamphlet which dealt with his mannerisms and -little peculiarities in a very unsparing way. It was illustrated with -some malicious but clever sketches, dealing chiefly with the favourite -topic of the “legs.” My friend Mr. William Archer, who has since become a -critic of high position, about this time also wrote a pamphlet in which -he examined the actor’s claims with some severity. Yet so judicial was -the spirit of this inquiry, that I fancy the subject of it could not have -been offended by it, owing to some compliments which seemed to be, as it -were, extorted by the actor’s merit. - -The new Lyceum season opened with yet one more play of -Shakespeare’s—‘Richard III.’ As might have been expected, he put aside -the old, well-established Cibberian version, a most effective piece of -its kind, and restored the pure, undiluted text of the Bard, to the -gratification, it need not be said, of all true critics and cultivated -persons. It was refreshing to assist at this intellectual feast, and to -follow the original arrangement, which had all the air of novelty.[15] - -A happily-selected piece was to follow, the old melodrama of ‘The Courier -of Lyons,’ which was brought out on May 19, 1877, under a new title, ‘The -Lyons Mail.’ The success of ‘The Bells’ had shown that for a certain -class of romantic melodramas the actor had exceptional gifts; and it may -be added that he has a _penchant_ for portraying characters of common -life under exciting and trying circumstances. This play is an admirable -specimen of French workmanship. The characters are marked, distinct, -amusing; every passage seems to add strength to the interest, and with -every scene the interest seems to grow. The original title—‘The Courier -of Lyons’—seems a more rational one than ‘The Lyons Mail.’ - -With pieces of this kind, where one actor plays two characters, a nice -question of dramatic propriety arises, viz., to how far the point of -likeness should be carried. In real life no two persons could be so alike -as a single person, thus playing the two characters, would be to himself. -The solution I believe to be this, that likenesses of this kind, which -are recognised even under disguise, are rather mental and intellectual, -and depend on peculiar expression—a glance from the eye, smiles, etc. -Irving, it must be said, contrived just so much likeness in the two -characters as suited the situations and the audience also. Superficially -there was a resemblance, but he suggested the distinct individualities in -the proper way. The worthy Lesurques was destined to be one of his best -characters, from the way in which he conveyed the idea of the tranquil, -innocent merchant, so affectionate to his family, and so blameless in -life. Many will recall the pleasant, smiling fashion in which he would -listen to the charges made against him. - -A yet bolder experiment was now to be made, and another piece in which -Charles Kean made a reputation, ‘Louis XI.,’ was brought out on March -9, 1878. It may be said without hesitation that this is one of the most -powerful, finished, and elaborate of all Irving’s efforts, and the one to -which we would bring, say, a foreign actor who desired to see a specimen -of the actor’s talents. - -This marvellous performance has ripened and improved year by year, -gaining in suggestion, fulness of detail, and perfect ease. In no other -part is he so completely the character. There is a pleasant good-humour—a -chuckling cunning—an air of indifference, as though it were not worth -while to be angry or excited about things. His figure is a picture, and -his face, wonderfully transformed, yet seems to owe scarcely anything -to the ‘making-up.’ Nowhere does he speak so much with his expressive -features. You see the cunning thought rising to the surface before the -words. There is the hypocritical air of candour or frankness suddenly -assumed, to conceal some villainous device. There is the genuine -enjoyment of hypocrisy, and the curious shambling walk. How admirably -graduated, too, the progress of decay and mortal sickness, with the -resistance to their encroachments. The portrait of his Richard—not -the old-established, roaring, stamping Richard of the stage, but the -weightier and more composed and refined—dwells long on the memory, -especially such touches as his wary watchings, looking from one to the -other while they talk, as if cunningly striving to probe their thoughts; -that curious scraping of his cheek with the finger, the strange senile -tones, the sudden sharp ferocity betokening the ingrained wickedness, and -the special leer, as though the old fox were in high good humour. - -Irving naturally recalls with pleasure any spontaneous and unaffected -tributes which his acting has called forth. A most flattering one is -associated with ‘Louis XI.’—a critical work which one of his admirers -had specially printed, and which enforced the actor’s view of Louis’s -character. “You will wonder,” the author said, “why we wrote and compiled -this book. A critic had said that, as nothing was really known of -the character, manners, etc., of Louis XI., an actor might take what -liberties he pleased with the subject. We prepared this little volume -to put on record a refutation of the statement, a protest against it, -and a tribute to your impersonation of the character.” Another admirer -had printed his various thoughts on Charles I. This was set off with -beautifully-executed etchings, tailpieces, etc., and the whole richly -bound and enshrined in a casket. The names of these enthusiasts are not -given.[16] - -A few years before this time Wagner’s weird opera, ‘The Flying Dutchman,’ -had been performed in London, and the idea had occurred to many, and -not unnaturally, that here was a character exactly suited to Irving’s -methods. He was, it was often repeated, the “ideal” Vanderdecken. He -himself much favoured the suggestion, and after a time the “Colonel” -entrusted me and my friend Wills with the task of preparing a piece -on the subject. For various reasons the plan was laid aside, and the -death of the manager and the adoption of other projects interfered. It -was, however, never lost sight of, and after an interval I got ready -the first act, which so satisfied Irving that the scheme was once more -taken up. After many attempts and shapings and re-shapings, the piece -was at last ready—Wills having undertaken the bulk of the work, I myself -contributing, as before, the first act. The actor himself furnished some -effective situations, notably the strange and original suggestion of the -Dutchman’s being cast up on the shore and restored to life by the waves. - -I recall all the pleasant incidents of this venture, the journeys to -Liverpool and Birmingham to consult on the plot and read the piece; above -all, the company of the always agreeable Irving himself, and his placid, -unaffected gaiety. Indeed, to him apply forcibly the melodious lines— - - “A merrier man, - Within the limits of becoming mirth, - I never spent an hour withal.” - -‘Vanderdecken,’ as it was called, was produced on July 8, 1878, but was -found of too sombre a cast to attract. It was all, as Johnson once said, -“inspissated gloom,” but there was abundant praise for the picturesque -figure of the actor. Nothing could be more effective than his first -appearance, when he was revealed standing in a shadowy way beside the -sailors, who had been unconscious of his presence. This was his own -subtle suggestion. A fatal blemish was the unveiling of the picture, -on the due impressiveness of which much depended, and which proved to -be a sort of grotesque daub, greeted with much tittering—a fatal piece -of economy on the part of the worthy manageress. An unusually sultry -spell of summer that set in caused “the booking to go all to pieces”—the -box-keeper’s consolatory expression. Our actor, however, has not lost -faith in the subject to this hour, and a year or two later he encouraged -me to make another attempt; while Miss Terry has been always eager to -attempt the heroine, in which she is confident of producing a deep -impression. - -At this time our actor’s position was a singular one. It had occurred -to many that there was something strange and abnormal in the spectacle -of the most conspicuous performer of his time, the one who “drew” most -money of all his contemporaries, being under the direction of a simple, -excellent lady, somewhat old-fashioned in her ideas, and in association -with a mediocre company and economical appointments. There was here -power clearly going to waste. It soon became evident that his talents -were heavily fettered, and that he had now attained a position which, -to say the least, was inconsistent with such surroundings. His own -delicacy of feeling, and a sense of old obligation, which, however, was -really slender enough, had long restrained him; but now, on the advice -of friends, and for the sake of his own interests, he felt that matters -could go on no longer, and that the time had arrived for making some -serious change. The balancing of obligations is always a delicate matter, -but it may be said that in such cases quite as much is returned as is -received. The successful manager may “bring forward” the little-known -actor, but the little-known actor in return brings fortune to the manager. - -The situation was, in fact, a false one. Where was he to find an opening -for those sumptuous plans and artistic developments for which the public -was now ripe, and which he felt that he, and he alone, could supply? -The breach, however, was only the occasion of the separation which must -inevitably have come later. As it was, he had suggested a change in stage -companionship: the attraction of the “leading lady,” with whom he had -been so long associated, was not, he thought, sufficient to assist or -inspire his own. As this arrangement was declined, he felt compelled to -dissolve the old partnership. - -It presently became known that the popular player was free, and ready -to carry out the ambitious and even magnificent designs over which he -had so long pondered. The moment was propitious. Except the little -Prince of Wales’s, there was no theatre in London that was conducted in -liberal or handsome style, and no manager whose taste or system was of -a large or even dignified sort. Everything was old-fashioned, meagre, -and mercantile. Everything seemed in a state of languor and decay. No -one thought of lavish and judicious outlay, the best economy in the end. -There was really but one on whom all eyes now instinctively rested as the -only person who by temperament and abilities was fitted to restore the -drama, and present it worthily, in accordance with the growing luxurious -instinct of the time. - -It was a rude shock for the manageress when this resolution was -communicated to her. The loss of her actor also involved the loss of her -theatre. She might have expostulated, with Shylock: - - “You take my house, when you do take the prop - That doth sustain my house.” - -It followed therefore, almost as a matter of course, that the theatre, -without any exertion on his part, would, as it were, drop into his hands. -He at once prepared to carry out his venture on the bold and sumptuous -lines which have since made his reputation. The poor lady naturally -fancied that she had a grievance; but her complaint ought in truth to -have been directed against the hard fate which had placed her in a -position that was above her strength.[17] With much gallantry and energy -she set herself to do battle with fortune in a new and lower sphere. She -secured the old theatre at Islington, which she partially rebuilt and -beautified, and on the opening night was encouraged by a gathering of -her old friends, who cheered her when she appeared, supported by her two -faithful daughters. Even this struggle she could not carry on long. She -took with her some of her old company, Bentley, the Brothers Lyons, and -others, and she furnished melodramas, brought out in a somewhat rude but -effective style, suited to the lieges of the district. Later Mr. Charles -Warner, greatly daring, gave a whole course of Shakespearian characters, -taking us through the great characters _seriatim_. It was indeed a very -astonishing programme. But the truth was, she had fallen behind the -times; the old-fashioned country methods would no longer “go down.” In -a few years she gave up the weary struggle, and, quite worn-out, passed -away to join the “old Colonel.” - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -1878. - -THE NEW MANAGER OF THE LYCEUM—MISS TERRY—HIS SYSTEM AND ASSISTANTS. - - -The Lyceum was designed by a true architect at a time when a great -theatre was considered to be a building or monument, like a public -gallery or museum. In these days little is thought of but the _salle_ -or interior, designed to hold vast audiences in galleries or shelves, -and laid out much like a dissenting chapel. The Lyceum is really a fine -structure, with entrances in four different streets, an imposing portico, -abundance of saloons, halls, chambers, and other _dependances_, which -are necessary in all good theatres. There is a special grace in its -lobby and saloon, and in the flowing lines of the interior, though they -have suffered somewhat from unavoidable alterations.[18] The stage is a -truly noble one, and offers the attraction of supplying a dignity and -theatrical illusion to the figures or scenes that are exhibited upon -it; thus contrasting with the rather mean and prosaic air which the -stages of most modern houses offer. This dignified effect is secured at -a heavy cost to the manager, for every extra foot multiplies the area of -scenery to a costly degree, and requires many figures to fill the void. -Beazely, a pleasant humorist and writer of some effective dramas, was -the architect of this fine temple, as also of the well-designed Dublin -Theatre, since destroyed by fire.[19] - -It may be imagined that the financial portion of the transaction could -have offered little difficulty. A man of such reputation inspires -confidence; and there are always plenty ready to come forward and support -him in his venture, his abilities being the security. A story was long -industriously circulated that he was indebted to the generosity of a -noble lady well known for her wealth and liberality, who had actually -“presented him with the lease of the theatre.” The truth, however, -was that Irving entirely relied on his own resources. According to a -statement which he found it necessary to have circulated, he borrowed -a sum of money on business terms, which he was enabled to pay off -gradually, partly out of profits, and partly out of a substantial legacy. -His first repayments were made out of the gains of his provincial tour. - -The new manager’s first effort was to gather round him an efficient and -attractive company. It became presently known that Miss Ellen Terry was -to be his partner and supporter on the stage, and it was instantly, and -almost electrically, felt that triumph had been already secured. People -could see in advance, in their mind’s eye, the gifted pair performing -together in a series of romantic plays; they could hear the voices -blending, and feel the glow of dramatic enjoyment. This important step -was heartily and even uproariously acclaimed. No manager ever started on -his course cheered by such tokens of goodwill and encouragement, though -much of this was owing to a natural and selfish anticipation of coming -enjoyment. - -The new actress, a member of a gifted family, was endowed with one of -those magnetically sympathetic natures, the rarest and most precious -quality a performer can have. It may be said to be “twice blessed,” -blessing both him that gives and him that takes—actor and audience. She -had a winning face, strangely expressive, even to her tip-tilted nose, -“the Terry nose,” and piquant, irregular chin; with a nervous, sinuous -figure, and a voice charged with melodious, heart-searching accents. -She indeed merely transferred to the stage that curious air of fitful -_enjouement_ which distinguished her among her friends, which often thus -supplied to her performances much that was unfamiliar to the rest of the -audience. She had, in short, a most marked _personality_. - -I possess a rare and possibly unique bill of one of Miss Ellen Terry’s -earliest child-performances, which it may be interesting to insert here: - - LECTURE HALL, CROYDON. - - FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY! - - _Tuesday Evening, March 13th, 1860._ - - MISS KATE TERRY - - AND - - MISS ELLEN TERRY, - - The original representatives of Ariel, Cordelia, Arthur, Puck, - etc. (which characters were acted by them upwards of one - hundred consecutive nights, and also before her Most Gracious - Majesty the Queen), at the Royal Princess’s Theatre, when under - the management of Mr. Charles Kean, will present their new and - successful - - ILLUSTRATIVE AND MUSICAL - - DRAWING-ROOM ENTERTAINMENT, - - In Two Parts, entitled - - ‘DISTANT RELATIONS,’ AND ‘HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS,’ - - In which they will sustain several - - CHARACTERS IN FULL COSTUME. - - N.B.—This entertainment was produced at the Royal Colosseum, - and represented by the Misses Kate and Ellen Terry thirty - consecutive nights to upwards of 30,000 persons— - -and so on. - -In ‘Home for the Holidays,’ the burden seems to have been cast on Ellen -Terry, who performed ‘Hector Melrose, a slight specimen of the rising -generation.’ - -In her rather fitful course, Ellen Terry[20] had gone on the stage, -left it, and had gone on it again. Her performance at the Prince of -Wales’s Theatre, the little home of comedy, in the piece of ‘Masks -and Faces,’ had left a deep impression, and I well recall the sort of -passionate intensity she put into the part. It must be said that there -was some uncertainty as to how she was likely to acquit herself in the -very important round of characters now destined for her; but her friends -and admirers were confident that her natural dramatic instincts and -quick ability, together with the inspiration furnished by so powerful a -coadjutor, would supply all deficiencies. And these previsions were to -be amply justified. But it was the sympathetic, passionate, and touching -performance of Olivia in Mr. Wills’s version of ‘The Vicar of Wakefield’ -that had lately drawn all eyes to her. It was felt that here was an -actress possessing “distinction” and original power. A series of these -performances at the Court Theatre, under Mr. Hare’s management, had added -to her reputation. - -For the opening of his theatre, the new manager did not much care -to engage actors of mark, relying on a few sound but unpretentious -performers, such as the late Mead, Swinburne, and others.[21] On his -visits to Dublin, the new manager had met a clever, ardent young man, who -had taken share in the flattering honours offered by Trinity College. -This was the now well-known Bram Stoker, whose geniality, good-nature, -and tact were to be of much service to the enterprise. A short time -before he was in one of the public offices in Dublin; he was now offered -the post of director of the theatre, or “business-manager,” as it is -technically called. Mr. H. Loveday had been stage-manager under the -Bateman dynasty, and was continued in his office. This gentleman is -really _hors ligne_ in this walk, being quick of resource, firm, even -despotic where need requires it, and eke genial and forbearing too. The -wonderful and ambitious development at the Lyceum has drawn on all his -resources, equipping him with an experience which few stage-managers -have opportunities of acquiring. When, as during the performance of -‘Henry VIII.,’ a crowd of over five hundred persons passes through the -stage-door of the Lyceum, a stage-manager must needs have gifts of -control of a high order to maintain discipline and direct his forces. -And who does not know the sagacious and ever-obliging Hurst, who has -controlled the box-office for many a year! - -This proper selection of officials is all-important in an enterprise of -this kind. Where they are well chosen, they help to bind the public to -the house. It is well known that our manager is well skilled in reading -the book of human character, and has rarely made a mistake in choosing -his followers. On their side, they have always shown much devotion to the -interests of their chief. - -Not the least important of these assistants is an accomplished artist, -Mr. Hawes Craven, the painter of the scenery, the deviser of the many -elaborate settings and tableaux which have for so long helped to enrich -the Lyceum plays. The modern methods of scenery now require an almost -architectural knowledge and skill, from the “built-up” structures which -are found necessary, the gigantic portals and porticoes of cathedrals, -houses, squares, and statues. Monumental constructions of all kinds are -contrived, the details, carvings, etc., being modelled or wrought in -_papier-mâché_ material. It may be doubted whether this system really -helps stage illusion as it affects to do, or whether more sincere -dramatic effects would not be gained by simpler and less laboured -methods. To Mr. Craven, too, we owe the development of what is the -“medium” principle—the introduction of atmosphere, of phantasmagoric -lights of different tones, which are more satisfactory than the same -tones when produced by ordinary colours. The variety of the effects thus -produced has been extraordinary. As might be expected, the artistic -instincts of the manager have here come in aid of the painter, who with -much readiness and versatility has been ready to seize on the idea and -give it practical shape by his craft.[22] - -Mr. Craven, years ago, practised his art on the boards of the old Dublin -Theatre Royal, under Mr. Harris, where his scenery attracted attention -for its brilliancy and originality. His scenes had the breadth and effect -of rich water-colour drawings, somewhat of the Prout school. Scenic -effect is now seriously interfered with by the abundant effulgence of -light in which the stage is bathed, and in which the delicate middle -tints are quite submerged. The contrast, too, with moulded work is -damaging, and causes the painted details to have a “poorish,” flat air. -Another point to which much prominence had been given from the first at -the Lyceum is the music. A fine and full orchestra—on an operatic scale -almost—with excellent conductors, who were often composers of reputation, -was provided. This rich and melodious entertainment sets off the play -and adds to its dignity, and may be contrasted with the meagre music -ordinarily provided in theatres. - -Once, travelling in the North, the manager met at a hotel a young -musician who, like himself, “was on tour,” with some concert party -it might be, and fell into conversation with him on their respective -professions. This young man chatted freely, and imparted his ideas on -music in general, and on theatre music in particular. The manager was -pleased with the freshness and practical character of these views, -and both went their way. Long after, when thinking of a successor to -Stöpel—the old-established Lyceum conductor—he recalled this agreeable -companion, who was Mr. Hamilton Clarke, and engaged him, at the handsome -salary of some six hundred a year, to direct the music. He was, moreover, -a composer of great distinction. His fine, picturesque overtures and -incidental music to ‘The Merchant of Venice,’ and other Lyceum pieces, -still linger in the memory. It is to be lamented that this connection was -severed. The manager has later applied for aid to such composers as Sir -Arthur Sullivan, Sir A. Mackenzie, Sir Julius Benedict, Stanford, Jacobi, -and Mr. German. - -When he was thus busy with preparations for inaugurating his new -ambitious venture, he had engagements to fulfil in the country, and -could only rush up to town occasionally to push on the preparations. -He tells us how, having secured a new Horatio, a “modern young actor,” -as he called him, whom he had never seen perform, he came up to town -especially to hear him go through his part. After reading it over for him -in the way he desired it to be done, Irving said, “Now you try it; I will -be the Ghost.” “So he began, and what a surprise it was! As Horatio he -apostrophized me in the most cool, familiar, drawing-room, conventional -style possible to imagine. I was aghast, ‘No, no,’ I cried. ‘Stop, -consider the situation, its thrills of horror, the supernatural!’ ‘Oh, -yes,’ he replied, ‘but how am I to do it?’ ‘Can’t you understand it?’ -I said; ‘try again.’ He did still the same again and again. There was -nothing to be done but engage another performer.” - -Anticipating a little, I may say here that the Lyceum company, though -not affecting to contain any brilliant “stars,” has from the beginning -exhibited a true homogeneousness in those sound conscientious actors who -have always “discharged” their characters in an effective way, suited -to the requirements of the piece. With a certain logical consistency, -the manager has ever considered the requirements of his audience and the -theatre. The attraction, it was understood, was to be the two leading -performers, who were to stand, as it were, before a well-studied, -well-composed background. The subsidiary characters, it was felt, should -set off the leading characters. The introduction of Mrs. Stirling, an -actress of the first rank, in such a part as the Nurse, however welcome -as a performance, almost disturbed the dramatic harmony, and made an -inferior part too prominent. This may seem hypercritical, but there can -be no doubt as to its truth, and it shows what tact is necessary to -secure an even performance. Those members of the corps who have been with -him almost from the beginning, the manager has thoroughly leavened with -his own methods and his own spirit, thus securing a general harmony. Such -useful auxiliaries include Johnson (a low comedian of the older school), -Tyers, Archer (another low comedian), Haviland (a most useful performer, -who improves with every year), and Andrews. Another serviceable player -was Wenman, who seemed in physique and method to be exactly suited to -Burchell in ‘Olivia.’ During the past seasons, however, this worthy man -has been removed from the company by death. On a stranger these players -might produce little effect; but the _habitués_ of the theatre have grown -familiar with their ways and faces and figures, and would miss them much -were they absent from a new play. - -In addition to this permanent body, the manager is accustomed -occasionally to call to his aid performers of mark, such as Terriss and -Forbes Robertson, the former an admirable actor in special characters -that are suited to his robustness, though his powers would gain by some -refining. Forbes Robertson is a picturesque performer of many resources, -who can supply colour and passion at need. He has a fair share of what -is called “distinction”; indeed, we wonder that his position has not ere -this become more fixed and certain. But this rests on a deeper question, -and is connected with the conditions of the stage at this moment, when -the only course open to the player is to become a “manager-actor,” and -have his own theatre, otherwise he must wander from house to house. -Arthur Stirling and Macklin—excellent, well-trained actors both—have -been found at the Lyceum, as also Mr. Bishop. Of the ladies there are -Miss Genevieve Ward, the excellent Mrs. Pauncefort (of the school of -Mrs. Chippendale), Miss Coleridge, occasionally the vivacious Miss -Kate Phillips, and Miss Emery, who takes Miss Terry’s place in case of -indisposition or fatigue. - -The new manager made some decorative alterations in the theatre which, -considering the little time at his disposal, did credit to his taste -and promptitude. The auditorium was treated in sage green and turquoise -blue; the old, familiar “cameos” of Madame Vestris’s day, ivory tint, -were still retained, while the hangings were of blue silk, trimmed -with amber and gold, with white lace curtains. The ceiling was of pale -blue and gold. The stalls were upholstered in blue, “a special blue” -it was called; escaloped shells were used to shield the glare of the -footlights. The dressing-rooms of the performers, the Royal box, and -Lady Burdett-Coutts’ box were all handsomely decorated and re-arranged, -the whole being directed by Mr. A. Darbyshire, a Manchester architect. -This, however, was but the beginning of a long series of structural -alterations, additions, and costly decorations, pursued over a term of a -little over a dozen years. - -On Monday, December 30, 1878, the theatre was opened with the revived -‘Hamlet.’ This was the first of those glittering nights—_premières_—which -have since become a feature of a London season. From the brilliancy -of the company—which usually includes all that is notable in the arts -and professions—as well as from the rich dresses, jewels, and flowers, -which suggest the old opera nights, the spectacle has become one of -extraordinary interest, and invitations are eagerly sought. Here are seen -the regular _habitués_, who from the first have been always invited: for -the constancy of the manager to his old friends is well known. - -The play was given with new scenery, dresses, music, etc. The aim was to -cast over the whole a poetical and dreamy glamour, which was exhibited -conspicuously in the treatment of the opening scenes when the Ghost -appeared. There were the mysterious battlements seen at a distance, -shadowy walls, and the cold blue of breaking day. There were fine halls, -with arches and thick pillars of Norman pattern. Irving’s version of the -part was in the main the same as before, but it was noted that he had -moderated it, as it were; it became more thoughtful. - -Of course, much interest and speculation was excited by the new actress, -who exhibited all her charming grace and winsomeness, with a tender -piteousness, when the occasion called. “Why,” she told an interviewer, -“I am so high strung on a first night that if I realized there was -an audience in front staring at me, I should fly off and be _down at -Winchester in two twos_!” On this momentous night of trial she thought -she had completely failed, and without waiting for the fifth act she -flung herself into the arms of a friend, repeating, “I have failed, I -have failed!” She drove up and down the Embankment half a dozen times -before she found courage to go home. - -This successful inauguration of his venture was to bear fruit in a long -series of important pieces, each produced with all the advantages that -unsparing labour, good taste, study, and expense could supply. Who could -have dreamed, or did _he_ dream on that night? that no fewer than nine -of Shakespeare’s greatest plays, a liberal education for audiences, -were destined to be his contribution to “the public stock of harmless -pleasure”? Every one of taste is under a serious obligation to him, -having consciously or unconsciously learnt much from this accomplished -man. - -On this occasion, adopting a custom since always adhered to, the manager -had his arrangement of the play printed, with an introduction by a good -Shakespearian student, who was destined to be a well-known figure in -the _entourage_ of the Lyceum. Albeit a little _tête montée_, “Frank -Marshall,” with his excited, bustling ways, and eccentric exterior, seems -now to be missed. He was always _bon enfant_. He had written one very -pleasing comedy, ‘False Shame,’ and was also rated as a high authority -on all Shakespearian matters. He published an elaborate _Study of -Hamlet_, and later induced Irving to join him in an ambitious edition of -Shakespeare, which has recently been completed. He was also a passionate -bibliomaniac, though not a very judicious one, lacking the necessary -restraint and judgment. He had somewhat of a troubled course, like so -many a London _littérateur_. - -At this time the average theatrical criticism, from lack of suitable -stimulant to excite it, was not nearly so discriminating as it is now, -when there is a body of well-trained, capable men, who sign their names -and carry out their duty with much independence. It is extraordinary what -a change has taken place. At the opening of Irving’s management there was -certainly a tendency to wholesale and lavish panegyric. Not unnaturally, -too, for all were grateful to one who was making such exertion to -restore the stage to elegance. Some of the ordinary newspapers, however, -overwhelmed him with their rather tedious, indiscriminate praises; it -seemed as though too much could not be said. There is no praise where -_everything_ is praised; nor is such very acceptable to its object. A -really candid discussion on the interpretation of a character, with -reasonable objections duly made, and argued out with respect, and -suggestions put forward—this becomes of real profit to the performer. -Thus in one single short criticism on a character of Garrick’s—he was -once playing a gentleman disguised as a valet—Johnson has furnished not -only Garrick, but all players too, with an invaluable principle which is -the foundation of all acting: “No, sir; he does not let the gentleman -break out through the footman.” - -A new play at the Lyceum is rarely concluded without a speech being -insisted upon. Irving himself has favoured this practice, but -reluctantly, yielding only to the irresistible pressure of ardent and -clamorous admirers. The system now obtains at every theatre where there -is an “actor-manager.” But there can be no question but that it is -an abuse, and a perilous one. It encourages a familiarity, and often -insolence, which shakes authority. The manager, when he makes his speech, -seems to invite the galleries down on to his stage, and it is to be -noticed that the denizens of these places are growing bolder, and fancy, -not unreasonably, that they are entitled to have _their_ speech, as the -manager has his.[23] - -The manager has been always guided by the principle of alternating -his greater attempts with others on a more moderate and less -pretentious scale. With this view he brought out, on April 17, 1879, -the ever-attractive ‘Lady of Lyons’—which would seem naturally suited -to him and his companion. He was himself in sympathy with the piece, -and prepared it on the most romantic and picturesque lines. It has -been usually presented in a stagey, declamatory fashion, as affording -opportunity to the two leading performers for exhibiting a robustious -or elocutionary passion. It was determined to tone the whole down, as -it were, and present it as an interesting love-story, treated with -restraint. Nothing could be more pleasing than the series of scenes thus -unfolded, set off by the not unpicturesque costumes of the revolutionary -era. It is difficult to conceive now of a Pauline otherwise attired. -It would seem that a play always presents itself to our manager’s eye -as a series of poetical scenes which take shape before him, with all -their scenery, dresses, and situations. As he muses over them they fall -into their place—the figures move; a happy suitable background suggests -itself, with new and striking arrangements; and thus the whole order and -tone of the piece furnishes him with inspiration. - -Indeed, it must be confessed that there are few plays we should be less -inclined to part with than this hackneyed and well-worn drama. The -“casual sight” of that familiar title on the red-brick corner wall in -some country or manufacturing town, it may be weeks old—the old paper -flapping flag-like—always touches a welcome note, and the names of -characters have a romantic sound. In the story there is the charm of -simple effects and primitive emotion; it is worked out without violence -or straining, and all through the ordinary sympathies are firmly struck, -and in the most touching way. Tinselly or superficial as many have -pronounced the piece, there is depth in it. So artfully is it compounded -that it is possible to play the two characters in half-a-dozen different -ways; and clever actors have exerted themselves to gloss over the one -weak spot in Melnotte’s character—the unworthy deception, which involves -loss of respect. Pauline, however, is a most charming character, from the -mixture of emotions; if played, that is, in a tender, impulsive way, and -not made a vehicle for elocutionary display. The gracious, engaging part -of the heroine has been essayed by our most graceful actresses, after -being created by the once irresistible Miss Helen Faucit. For over fifty -years this drama has held its ground, and is always being performed. -The young beginner, just stepping on the boards, turns fondly to the -effective “gardener’s son,” and is all but certain that he could deliver -the passage ending, “_Dost like the picture?_”—a burst often smiled -at, but never failing to tell. Every one of the characters is good and -actable, and, though we may have seen it fifty times, as most playgoers -have, there is always a reserve of novelty and attraction left which is -certain to interest. - -On this occasion, the old, well-worn drama was so picturesquely set -forth, that it seemed to offer a new pastoral charm. In Irving’s Claude -there was a sincerity and earnestness which went far to neutralize these -highly artificial, not to say “high-flown,” passages which have so often -excited merriment. Miss Terry, as may be conceived, was perfectly suited -in her character—the ever-charming Pauline; and displayed an abundance of -spontaneousness, sympathy, and tenderness. - -The public was at this time to learn with interest that the actor was -to accompany Lady Burdett-Coutts on a voyage to the Mediterranean in -her yacht _The Walrus_, and all was speculation as to the party and -their movements. One of her guests was an agreeable young American named -Bartlett, now better known as Mr. Burdett-Coutts, since become the -husband of the lady. During this pleasant voyage _The Walrus_ directed -her course to Venice and various Italian cities—all new and welcome -to our actor, who was at the same time taking stock of the manners, -customs, dresses, etc., of the country, and acquiring, as it were, -the general flavour and _couleur locale_. His scene-painter had also -found his way there, and was filling his sketch-book with rich “bits of -colour,” picturesque streets, and buildings. The manager was, in fact, -pondering over a fresh Shakespearian venture—an Italian play, which -was to be produced with the new season. He was, in fact, about to set -on the stage ‘The Merchant of Venice,’ with every aid that money and -taste could supply. The moment this selection was known, it was felt -almost universally that it was exactly the piece that should have been -chosen. Everyone anticipated by a sort of instinct what entertainment -was in store for them: for here was the part and here was the actor. -Notwithstanding the elaborate character of the preparations, the whole -was “got up” in some four weeks, though this period did not comprise the -long course of private study and meditation during which the scheme was -gradually matured in his mind. When on his yachting expedition he had -taken advantage of a hasty visit to Tangier to purchase Moorish costumes -to be used in the Shakespearian spectacle he was preparing. - -To fill up the interval he got ready Colman’s drama ‘The Iron Chest,’ -produced on September 27, 1879. This powerful but lugubrious piece -has always had an unaccountable attraction for tragedians. Sir Edward -Mortimer belongs, indeed, to the family of Sir Giles Overreach. The -character offered temptation to our actor from its long-sustained, -mournful, and poetical soliloquies, in which the state of the remorseful -soul was laid bare at protracted length; but, though modified and -altered, the piece is hopelessly old-fashioned. It is impossible in -our day to accept seriously a “band of robbers,” who moreover live -in “the forest”; and the “proofs” of Sir Edward’s guilt, a knife and -blood-stained cloth, carefully preserved in an old chest which is always -in sight, have a burlesque air. - -Irving very successfully presented the image of the tall, wan, haggard -man, a prey to secret remorse and sorrow. Wilford, the secretary, is -by anticipation, as it were, in possession of the terrible secret of -the murder, and is himself a character of much force and masterful -control. He is really the complement of the leading personage. But Norman -Forbes—one of the Forbes Robertson family, _ingenuus puer_, and likewise -_bonæ indolis_—made of this part merely an engaging youth, who certainly -ought to have given no anxiety in the world to a conscience-stricken -murderer. The terrors of Sir Edward would have had more force and effect -had he been in presence of a more robust and resolute personage—one who -was not to be drawn off the scent, or shaken off his prey. This piece -well served its purpose as “a stop-gap” until the new one was ready. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -1879. - -‘THE MERCHANT OF VENICE.’ - - -This great and attractive play was now ready: all was anticipation and -eager interest The night of its production—November 1, 1879—was a festive -one. The house was most brilliant: and indeed this may be accounted the -first _regular_, official Lyceum _première_. I recall that among the -audience were Tom Taylor and Henry Byron, names that now seem ghost-like, -so rapidly do literary shadows depart. Like some rich Eastern dream, -steeped in colours and crowded with exquisite figures of enchantment, -the gorgeous vision of the pageant seems now to rise in the cold, sober -daylight. As a view of Venetian life, manners, and scenery, it has never -been matched. The figures seemed to have a grace that belonged not to -the beings that pace, and declaim upon, the boards. Add the background, -the rich exquisite dresses, the truly noble scenery—a revel of colour, -yet mellowed—the elegant theatre itself crammed with an audience that -even the Lyceum had not witnessed, and it may be conceived what a night -it was. The scenery alone would take an essay to itself, and it is hard -to say which of the three artists engaged most excelled. The noble -colonnade of the ducal palace was grand and imposing; so was the lovely -interior of Portia’s house at Belmont, with its splendid amber hangings -and pearl-gray tones, its archings and spacious perspective. But the -Court scene, with its ceiling painted in the Verrio style, its portraits -of Doges, the crimson walls with gilt carvings, and the admirable -arrangements of the throne, etc., surely for taste, contrivance, and -effect has never been matched. The whole effect was produced by the -painting, not by built-up structures. The dresses too—groupings, -servants, and retainers—what sumptuousness! The pictures of Moroni and -Titian had been studied for the dove-coloured cloaks and jerkins, the -violet merchant’s gown of Antonio, the short hats—like those of our -day—and the frills. The general tone was that of one of Paolo Veronese’s -pictures—as gorgeous and dazzling as the _mélange_ of dappled colour in -the great Louvre picture. - -Shylock was not the conventional Hebrew usurer with patriarchal beard -and flowing robe, dirty and hook-nosed, but a picturesque and refined -Italianized Jew, genteelly dressed: a dealer in money, in the country of -Lorenzo de’ Medici, where there is an aristocracy of merchants. His eyes -are dark and piercing, his face is sallow, his hair spare and turning -gray; he wears a black cap, a brown gaberdine faced with black, and a -short robe underneath. - -The “Trial scene,” with its shifting passions, would have stamped Irving -as a fine actor. See him as he enters, having laid aside his gaberdine -and stick, and arrayed in his short-skirted gown, not with flowing -but tightened sleeves, so that this spareness seems to lend a general -gauntness to his appearance. There he stands, with eyes half furtively, -half distrustfully following the Judge as he speaks. When called upon -to answer the appeal made to him “from the bench,” how different from -the expected conventional declaration of violent hatred! Instead, his -explanation is given with an artful adroitness as if _drawn_ from him. -Thus, “If you deny it” is a reminder given with true and respectful -dignity, not a threat; and when he further declares that it “is his -humour,” there is a candour which might commend his case, though he -cannot restrain a gloating look at his prey. But as he dwells on the -point, and gives instances of other men’s loathing, this malignity seems -to carry him away, and, complacent in the logic of his illustration -of the “gaping pig” and “harmless necessary cat,” he bows low with a -Voltairean smile, and asks, “_Are you answered?_” How significant, too, -his tapping the bag of gold several times with his knife, in rejection -of the double sum offered, meant as a calm business-like refusal; and -the “I would have my bond!” emphasized with a meaning clutch. Then the -conclusion, “Fie upon your law,” delivered with folded arms and a haughty -dignity; indeed, a barrister might find profit here, and study the art of -putting a case with adroitness and weight. But when Antonio arrives his -eyes follow him with a certain uneasy distrust, and on Bellario’s letter -being read out he listens with a quiet interest, plucking his beard a -little nervously. As, however, he sees the tone the young lawyer takes, -he puts on a most deferential and confidential manner, which colours his -various compliments: “O wise young Judge,” “A Daniel,” etc., becoming -almost wheedling. And when he pleads his oath— - - “Shall I lay perjury upon my soul? - No, not for Venice!” - -there is a hypocritical earnestness, as if he were giving his reason -privately to the counsel, though there is a strange, indescribable sneer -conveyed in that “not for Venice.” Then the compliment to Portia, “How -much more elder art thou than thy looks!” which he utters, crouching -low, with a smiling, even leering, admiration, but admiration given for -what is on his own side. And what follows opens a most natural piece of -business, arising out of the sort of confidential intimacy which he would -establish between them— - - “Ay, his breast, - So says the bond;—Doth it not, noble judge? - _Nearest his heart_, those are the very words”; - -the latter words pronounced with canine ferocity, his eyes straining -over the other’s shoulders, while he points with his knife—secure, too, -that the other will agree with him. He fancies that he has brought -over the counsel to his side. And it may be added that this knife is -not flourished in the butcher’s style we are accustomed to; it is more -delicately treated, as though something surgical were contemplated. When -bidden to “have by some surgeon,” nothing could be better than the sham -curiosity with which he affects to search the bond for such a proviso, -letting his knife travel down the lines, and the tone of “I cannot find -it,” in a cold, helpless way, as if he had looked out of courtesy to -his “young Judge,” who appeared to be on his side. The latter at last -declares that there is no alternative, but that Antonio must yield his -bosom to the knife; then the Jew’s impatience seems to override his -courtesies, his gloating eyes never turn from his victim, and with greedy -ferocity he advances suddenly with “Come, prepare!” When, however, Portia -makes her “point” about the “drop of blood,” he drops his scales with -a start; and, Gratiano taunting him, his eyes turn with a dazed look -from one to the other; he says slowly, “Is—that—the—law?” Checked more -and more in his reluctant offers, he at last bursts out with a demoniac -snarl—“Why, then, the devil give him good of it!” Finally he turns to -leave, tottering away bewildered and utterly broken. As may be imagined, -the new Shylock excited a vast deal of controversy. The “old school” was -scornful; and here again it would have been worth hearing the worthy Jack -Ryder—whom we still must take to be the type of the good old past—on the -subject. - -Nothing was more remarkable than the general effect of this fine and -thoughtful representation upon the public. It was a distinct education, -too, and set everyone discussing and reading. Admittedly one result was -the great increase in the sale of editions of Shakespeare’s works; and -the ephemeral literature engendered in the shape of articles, criticisms, -and illustrations of all kinds was truly extraordinary. Here again was -heard the harsh note of the jealous and the envious. There was plenty of -fair and honest dissent as to the interpretation of the play, with some -reasonably argued protests against the over-abundant decoration. - -The hundredth night of the run of this prodigiously successful revival -was celebrated in hospitable fashion by a supper, to which all that was -artistic, literary, and fashionable—_tout Londres_ in short—was bidden. -The night was Saturday, February 14, 1880, the hour half-past eleven. -As soon as the piece was terminated a wonderful _tour de force_ was -accomplished. In an incredibly short space of time—some forty minutes, -I believe—an enormous marquee, striped red and white, that enclosed the -whole of the stage, was set up; the tables were arranged and spread with -“all the luxuries of the season” with magic rapidity. An enjoyable night -followed. The host’s health was given by that accomplished man, and man -of elegant tastes, Lord Houghton, in what was thought a curiously _mal à -propos_ speech. After conventional eulogiums, he could not resist some -half-sarcastic remarks as to “this new method of adorning Shakespeare.” -He condemned the system of long “runs,” which he contrasted with that of -his youth, when pieces were given not oftener than once or twice in the -week. He then praised the improvement in the manners of the profession, -“so that the tradition of good breeding and high conduct was not confined -to special families like the Kembles, or to special individuals like Mr. -Irving himself, but was spread over the profession, so that families of -condition were ready to allow their children to go on the stage. _We put -our sons and daughters into it._” I recall now the genuine indignation -and roughly-expressed sentiments of some leading performers and critics -who were sitting near me at this very awkward compliment. He then -proceeded to speak of the new impersonation, describing how he had seen -a Shylock, formerly considered a ferocious monster, but who had, under -their host’s treatment, become a “gentleman of the Jewish persuasion, in -voice very like a Rothschild, afflicted with a stupid servant and wilful -and pernicious daughter, to be eventually foiled by a very charming -woman. But there was one character Mr. Irving would never pervert or -misrepresent, and that was his own,” etc. - -Never was the power and good-humour—the _bonhomie_—of the manager more -happily displayed than in his reply. As was said at the time, it showed -him in quite a new light. Taken wholly unawares—for whatever preparation -he might have made was, he said, “rendered useless by the unexpected tone -of Lord Houghton’s remarks”-he was thrown on his impromptu resources, and -proved that he really possessed what is called debating power. He spoke -without hesitation, and with much good sense and playful humour put aside -these blended compliments and sarcasms. - -Some time before the manager, who was on friendly terms with the gifted -Helen Faucit, determined to revive a piece in which she had once made a -deep impression, viz., ‘King Réné’s Daughter.’ This poem, translated by -her husband, set out the thoughts and feelings of a young girl in the -contrasted conditions of blindness and of sight recovered. With a natural -enthusiasm for his art, Irving persuaded the actress, who had long since -withdrawn from the stage, to emerge from her retirement and play her old -character “for one night only.” This news really stirred the hearts of -true playgoers, who recalled this actress in her old days of enchantment, -when she was in her prime, truly classical and elegant in every pose, -playing the pathetic Antigone. But, alas! for the old Antigone dreams; we -could have wished that we had stayed away! The actress’s devices seemed -to have hung too long a “rusty mail, and seemed quite out of fashion.” -Irving did all he could, in an almost chivalrous style, and it was -certainly a kindly act of admiration and enthusiasm for his art to think -of such a revival. Such homage deserved at least tolerance or recognition. - -Miss Terry herself had always fancied the character of Iolanthe, and it -was now proposed to give the play as an after-piece to ‘The Merchant -of Venice,’ a substantial meal for one night. Our heroine made a -tender, natural, and highly emotional character of it. A new version or -adaptation from the Danish had been made, for obvious reasons, by the -trusty Wills: the piece was set off by one really lovely scene, which -represented the heart of some deep grove, that seemed almost inaccessible -to us, weird and jungle-like. A golden, gorgeous light played on the -trees capriciously; there was a rich tangle of huge tropical flowers; -while behind, the tall, bare trunks of trees were ranged close together -like sentinels. Golden doors opened with a musical chime, or clang; -strange, weird music, as of æolian harps, floated up now and again. With -this background, knightly figures of the Arthurian pattern and ethereal -maidens were seen to float before us. Miss Terry’s conception of the -maid was not Miss Faucit’s, which was that of a placid, rather cold and -elegant being. She cast over the character a rapture, as though she were -all love and impulse, with an inexpressible tenderness and devotional -trust, as when she exclaimed, “I _go_ to find the light!” This sort of -rapture also tinged Mr. Irving’s character, and the audience were lifted -into a region where emotion reigned supreme. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -1880. - -‘THE CORSICAN BROTHERS’ AND ‘THE CUP.’ - - -With his usual tact the manager had determined on a change of -entertainment which should offer a marked contrast to the classical -success just obtained, and was now meditating a revival of the once -popular romantic drama, ‘The Corsican Brothers,’ with all its spectral -effects—certainly one of the best of many admirably-constructed and -effective French pieces. To such a group belong the absorbing ‘Two -Orphans,’ ‘Thirty Years of a Gambler’s Life,’ ‘Victorine,’ and others. -‘The Lady of Lyons’ is the only one of our _répertoire_ that can be -put beside these ingenious efforts. Some thirty years ago, when it was -produced at the Princess’s, the horny-voiced Charles Kean performing -the Brothers, it took hold of the public with a sort of fascination—the -strange music of Stöpel, and the mysterious, gliding progress of the -murdered brother across the stage, enthralling everyone. There was a -story at the time that the acts, sent over from Paris in separate parcels -for translation, had become transposed, the second act being placed -first, and this order was retained in the representation with some -benefit to the play. This may be a legend; but the fact is that either -act could come first without making any serious difference. - -Magnificent and attractive as was the mounting of this piece at the time, -it was really excelled in sumptuousness on its later revival in 1891. -The experience of ten years had made the manager feel a certainty in the -results of his own efforts; his touch had become sure; the beautiful and -striking effects were developed naturally, without that undue emphasis -which often disturbs the onward course of a piece. All his agents had -grown skilled in the resources of the scene; and he himself, enjoying -this security, and confident as would be a rider on the back of a -well-trained horse, could give his undoubted fancy and imagination full -range. Hence that fine, unobtrusive harmony which now reigns in all his -pictures. Even now the wonderful opera house, the forest glades, the -_salon_ in Paris, all rise before us. Nor was there less art shown in the -subdued tone of mystery which it was contrived to throw over the scenes. -The scenes themselves, even those of reckless gaiety, seemed to strike -this “awesome” note. Much as the familiar “ghost tune” was welcomed, more -mysterious, as it always seemed to me, was the “creepy variation” on the -original theme, devised by Mr. H. Clarke, and which stole in mournfully -at some impending crisis all through the piece. There was some criticism -on the D’Orsay costumes of the piece; the short-waisted waist-coats, the -broad-brimmed opera hats, and the rich cravats—_Joinvilles_, as they -used to be called. These lent a piquancy, and yet were not too remote -from the present time. Terriss, it must be said, was lacking in elegance -and “distinction.” There always lingers in the memory the image of the -smooth grace and courtesies of Alfred Wigan, who really made a dramatic -character of the part—sympathetic and exciting interest. It is in these -things that we miss the style, the bearing which is itself acting, -without utterance of a word, and which now seems to be a lost art. One -result of this treatment, as Mr. Clement Scott truly pointed out, was the -shifting of sympathies. “Château-Renaud was, no doubt, a villain, but he -was one of the first class, and with magnetic power in him. He had won -for himself a high place. He was cold as steel, and reserved. For him to -deal with Louis was child’s play. And yet all this was reversed: it was -Louis that dominated the situation; no one felt the least apprehension -for his fate.” This is a judicious criticism. - -Familiarity has now somewhat dulled the effect of the gliding entrance of -the ghostly Louis, which at first seemed almost supernatural. The art was -in making the figure rise as it advanced, and an ingenious contrivance -was devised by one of the stage foremen. It was a curious feeling to find -oneself in the cavernous regions below the stage, and see the manager -rush down and hurriedly place himself on the trap to be worked slowly -upwards.[24] - -The use of intense light has favoured the introduction of new effects in -the shape of transparent scenery; that is, of a scene that looks like -any ordinary one, but is painted on a thick gauzy material. Thus, in -the first act, the back of the scene in the Corsican Palace is of this -material, through which the tableau of the Paris duel is shown, a fierce -light being cast upon it. In the original representation the whole wall -descended and revealed the scene. The upper half ascending, the other -offers something of a magic-lantern or phantasmagorian air. The same -material is used in the dream in ‘The Bells,’ when the spectral trial is -seen going on, made mysterious and misty by the interposition of this -gauze. - -In the duel scene one of the swords is broken by an accident; the other -combatant breaks his across his knee, that the duel may proceed “on equal -terms.” It is not, of course, to be supposed that a sword is broken every -night. They are made with a slight rivet and a little solder, the fitting -being done every morning, so that the pieces are easily parted. But few -note how artfully the performers change their weapons; for in the early -stages of the duel the flourishings and passes would have soon caused -the fragments to separate. It is done during the intervals of rest, when -the combatants lean on the seconds and gather strength for the second -“round,” and one gets his new weapon from behind a tree, the other from -behind a prostrate log. - -But it is in the next act that the series of elaborate set scenes -succeeding each other entails the most serious difficulties, only to be -overcome in one way—viz., by the employment of an enormous number of -persons. Few modern scenes were more striking than that of the Opera -House lit _à giorno_, with its grand chandelier and smaller clusters -running round. The blaze of light was prodigious; for this some five -thousand feet of gas-tubing had to be laid down, the floor covered with -snake-like coils of indiarubber pipes, and the whole to be contrived -so as to be controlled from a single centre-pipe. There were rows of -boxes with crimson curtains, the spectators filling them—some faces -being painted in, others being represented by living persons. Yet -nothing could be more simple than the elements of this Opera House. -From the audience portion one would fancy that it was an elaborately -built and costly structure. It was nothing but two light screens pierced -with openings, but most artfully arranged and coloured. At its close, -down came the rich tableau curtains, while behind them descended the -cloth with the representation of the lobby scene in the Opera House. -It used to be customary for the manager’s friends to put on a mask and -domino and mingle with the gay throng of roysterers in the Opera House -scene, or to take a place in one of the practicable boxes and survey -the whole—and a curious scene it was. A cosy supper in the Beef-steak -room, and a pleasant _causerie_ through the small hours, concluded a -delightful and rather original form of a night’s entertainment. This -was followed by the double rooms of the supper party, a very striking -scene: two richly-furnished rooms, Aubusson carpets, a pianoforte, -nearly twenty chairs, sofas, tables, clocks, and a supper-table covered -with delicacies, champagne bottles, flowers, etc. This is succeeded -almost instantly by a scene occupying the same space—that of the forest, -requiring the minutest treatment, innumerable properties, real trees, -etc. This is how it is contrived. The instant the tableau curtains are -dropped, the auxiliaries rush on the scene; away to right and left fly -the portions of the Parisian drawing-room: tables, chairs, piano, sofa, -vanish in an instant. Men appear carrying tall saplings fixed in stands; -one lays down the strip of frozen pond, another the prostrate trunk of -a tree—everyone from practice knowing the exact place of the particular -article he is appointed to carry. Others arrive with bags of sand, which -are emptied and strewn on the floor; the circular tree is in position, -the limelights ready. The transformation was effected, in what space -of time will the reader imagine? In thirty-eight _seconds_, by the -stage-manager’s watch. By that time the tableau had been drawn aside, and -Château-Renaud and his friend Maugiron were descending into the gloomy -glade after their carriage had broken down.[25] - -As we call up the memories of the Lyceum performances, with what a series -of picturesque visions is our memory furnished—poetical Shakespearian -pageants; romantic melodramatic stories, set forth with elegance and -_vraisemblance_; plays of pathetic or domestic interest; exhilarating -comedies; with highly dramatic poems, written by the late Poet Laureate, -Wills, and others. Indeed, who could have conceived on the opening night -of the Lyceum management, when ‘Hamlet’ was to be brought out, that this -was to be the first of a regular series—viz., nine gorgeous and ambitious -presentations of Shakespearian pieces, each involving almost stupendous -efforts, intellectual and physical, that we were to see in succession -‘The Merchant of Venice,’ ‘Romeo and Juliet,’ ‘Much Ado About Nothing,’ -‘Othello,’ ‘Twelfth Night,’ ‘Macbeth,’ ‘Henry VIII.,’ and ‘King Lear’? -What a gift to the public in the shape of the attendant associations, -in the glimpses of Italian and other scenery, the rich costumes, the -archæology! - -The late Laureate, not contented with the popularity which his poems have -won, always “hankered” after the entrancing publicity and excitement of -the theatre. He made many an attempt in this direction, and his list -of performed dramas is a fairly long one; few, however, have enjoyed -any signal success, save perhaps the last, recently produced in the -United States. To one indeed—witness the unlucky ‘Promise of May’—the -regular “first-nighter,” as he is called, was indebted for an amusing -and enjoyable evening’s entertainment. It must be conceded, however, -that there is a dramatic tone or flavour about his pieces which is -attractive, in spite of all deficiencies, and anyone who could not see -a touching grace and elegance in such a piece as ‘The Falcon,’ weak as -it is in treatment, must have little taste or feeling. So with ‘Queen -Mary,’ which had a certain grim power, and, above all, local colour. His -own striking success in the character of King Philip was an agreeable -recollection for Irving; and he now lent himself with much enthusiasm to -a project for bringing forward a new drama by the poet. The preparations -for this elegant play were of the most lavish and unstinted kind. -Nothing, literally, was spared in the outlay of either study, thought, -money, or art. The manager usually follows an eclectic system, choosing -his _aides_ and assistants as they appear suited to each play. Thus an -architect of literary tastes, Mr. Knowles, was called in to design a -regular Temple-interior, which was the principal scene, and which was to -be treated, _secundum artem_, in professional style. And so it rose with -all its pillars and pediments “behind the scenes.” - - “No ponderous axes rung; - Like some tall palm the mystic fabric sprung.” - -The name of the new piece was ‘The Cup,’ a fine “barbarian” story, -strangely interesting and even fascinating. It was, of course, diffuse -and expanded to inordinate length. And there were many pleasant stories -afloat of the poet contending “for the dear life” for his “ewe lambs,” -and every line of his poetry; the manager, in his pleasant, placid -way—but firm withal—quietly insisting on the most abundant compression. - -The night of performance was that of January 3, 1881, when the beautiful -play-poem was at last set before the audience in all its attraction. -It still lingers in the memory with an inexpressible charm, breathing -poetry and romance. We shall ever look back fondly to ‘The Cup,’ with its -exquisite setting, and lament heartily that others did not so cordially -or enthusiastically appreciate it. There was something so fascinating -about the play, something so refining, and also so “fantastical,” that -though lacking the strong thews and muscles of a regular drama, it -satisfied eye and ear. As it floated before us, in airy, evanescent -fashion, it seemed to recall the lines that wind up the most charming of -Shakespeare’s plays, when the revels now had ended, and all had “melted -into air, into thin air.” The noble Temple, with its rich mouldings, -was destined too soon, alas! to pass away into the same dark grave -of so many noble creations. On the two chief characters, both full of -tragic power, the eye rested with an almost entrancing interest. Never -did Irving _act_ better—that is, never did he convey by his look and -tones the evidence of the barbaric conception within him. There was a -fine, pagan, reckless savagery, yet controlled by dignity. Miss Terry’s -Camma returns to the memory like the fragment of a dream. The delightful -creation was brought before us more by her sympathetic bearing and motion -than by speech; what music was there in those tones, pitched in low, -melodious key, interpreting the music of Tennyson! Her face and outline -of figure, refined and poetical as they were, became more refined still -in association with the lovely scenery and its surroundings. She seemed -to belong to the mythological past. There was a strange calm towards the -close, and all through no undue theatrical emphasis or faulty tone of -recitation to disturb that dreamy sense. - -It was not a little disheartening to think that this “entire, perfect -chrysolite” was received with a rather cold admiration, or at least not -with the enthusiasm it richly merited. The apathetic crowd scarcely -appreciated the too delicate fare set before it, we scarcely know why. I -suppose that it had not sufficient _robustness_, as it is called. After -some weeks the manager found it needful to supplement the attraction of -the play by the revived ‘Corsican Brothers.’ It may be conceived what a -strain[26] was here on the resources, not merely of the actors, but even -of all who were concerned with the scenery and properties. Two important -pieces had to be treated and manipulated within an incredibly short space -of time. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -1881. - -‘OTHELLO’ AND ‘THE TWO ROSES’ REVIVED. - - -At this time there came to London an American actor whose reputation -in his own country was very high, and for whom it was claimed that, as -a legitimate performer, he was superior to all rivals. This was Mr. -Edwin Booth. He was welcomed with cordiality and much curiosity, and -by none was he received with such hearty goodwill as by the manager -of the Lyceum. Unluckily, he had made his arrangements injudiciously, -having agreed to appear under a management which was quite unsuited -to the proper exhibition of his gifts. The Princess’s Theatre was a -house devoted to melodrama of the commoner type, and was directed by -commercial rather than by æsthetic principles. This mistake proved fatal. -The manager, finding that there was no likelihood of success, was not -inclined to waste his resources, and, no doubt to the anguish of the -actor, brought out the pieces in a meagre fashion that was consistent -with the traditions of Oxford Street, but fatal to the American’s chances. - -In this disastrous state of things the manager of the Lyceum came to the -rescue of his _confrère_ with a suggestion as delicately conceived as it -was generous. He offered him his theatre, with its splendid resources and -traditions, his company, and—himself. He proposed that a Shakespearian -play should be produced on the customary scale of magnificence, and that -he and Booth should fill the leading characters. This handsome offer was, -of course, accepted with gratitude, and ‘Othello’ was selected as the -play. - -The arrangements for this “Booth season,” as it might be termed, were -of an unusual and certainly laborious kind. The manager, however, was -never disposed to spare himself. The programme began on May 2, 1881, when -Booth was to appear as Othello, performing on Monday, Wednesday, and -Friday, the manager playing Iago. On the other nights of the week, ‘The -Cup,’ with the lively ‘Belle’s Stratagem,’ was to be performed. In the -following week there was the same arrangement, except that Irving took -the part of Othello.[27] - -The night of May 2 was an exciting one, even in the list of exciting -Lyceum nights. The Americans were, of course, there in great force. -Irving—Booth—Ellen Terry: this surely formed, in theatrical phrase, a -galaxy of talent, and the cynosure of a crowded, brilliant audience. It -was, indeed, a charming performance—intellectual, highly-coloured, and -treated in the romantic fashion which the age seems to demand. The old -days of lusty-throated, welkin-splitting declamation, emphasized with -strides and lunges, are done with. - -Of Irving’s Iago it would be difficult to say too much. There have been -always the two extremes: one portraying the Ancient as a malignant, -scowling, crafty villain, doing much work with his eyes; the other as a -kind of dapper, sarcastic, sneering personage, much after the model of -Mephistopheles, this tone being emphasized by an airy, fashionable dress, -as though he were some cynical Venetian “about town.” In Irving was seen -the man of power and capability. There was breadth of treatment—the -character was coherent throughout. The keynote to the perplexing -character was found in his _humour_. In “I hate the Moor!”—one of those -secret, jealous, morbid broodings which belong to human nature—an -admirably delivered soliloquy, he strives to find some reasonable excuse -for this suggestion; ‘He has done my office’ is merely accepted as a -suitable pretext. The mode in which this was, as it were, chased through -the turnings of his soul; the anxious tone of search, “I know not if -’t be true”; the covering up his face, and the motion by which he let -his hands glide, revealing an elated expression at having found what -would “serve,” was a perfect exhibition of the processes of thought. All -this was set off by a dress of singular appropriateness and richness: a -crimson and gold jerkin, with a mantle of dull or faded green, sometimes -alternated with a short cloak and a red mantle worn on one arm. - -In Booth’s Othello there appeared to be a lack of vigour, and the -elocutionist was too present. There was a system of “points.” Some -critics were rude enough to say that “his make-up suggested at times an -Indian juggler, while about the head he seemed a low-cast Bengali.” He -was never the “noble Moor.” “He had a tendency at times to gobble like a -turkey.” This was rather hard measure. But in the scene with Iago, and, -above all, in the scenes with Desdemona, the frantic bursts of jealousy, -the command of varied tones, the by-play, the fierce ordering of Emilia -and his wife—all this was of a high class, and stirred us. Miss Terry’s -Desdemona was pathetic, and her piteous pleadings and remonstrances went -straight to the heart. - -On the next performance the parts were interchanged. A figure arrayed -in a flowing amber robe over a purple brocaded gaberdine; a small, -snow-white turban; a face dark, yet not “black”—such was Irving’s -conception of Othello, which indeed answered to our ideal of the Moor. -His tall figure gave him advantage. His reading of the part, again, was -of the romantic, passionate kind, and he leant more on the tender side -of the character than on the ferocious or barbaric. In the scene of -Desdemona’s death or murder, there was now another and more effective -arrangement: the bed was placed in the centre of the stage, and the whole -became more important and conspicuous. When it was at the side, as in the -Booth arrangement, it was difficult to believe in the continued presence -of the lady after her death, and there was an awkwardness in the efforts -to keep in sight of the audience during the struggle. There is not space -to give details of the points which distinguished this conception—it -is virtually a new character; but it will always be played by Irving -under a disadvantage, as the play of his expressive face—the meaning, -“travelling” eyes—is greatly veiled by the enforced swarthiness and -Æthiop tint. - -Booth’s Iago had been seen before, and was much praised. It was on the -old “Mephistopheles” lines. The dress, indeed, strangely meagre and -old-fashioned, scarcely harmonized with the rich costumes about him. - -The whole of this transaction, as I have said, did honour to the English -actor. Nothing more cordially hospitable could have been imagined. At the -time there was a “Booth party,” who gave out that their favourite had -not had fair play at the Princess’s, and that on a properly-appointed -stage his superiority to all rivals would be apparent. These and other -utterances were scattered about freely. Irving might have passed them -by with indifference. It was certainly not his duty to share his stage -with a stranger and a rival. At the same time we may give him credit -for a certain delicate _finesse_, and he may have later thought, with -a smiling, good-humoured complacency, that, owing to his allowing -the experiment, the issue had turned out very differently from what -“good-natured people” had hoped. The mortification for the American -must have been the greater from the disadvantage of the contrast, which -brought out in the most forcible way the want of “distinction,” the -stock of old, rather faded, devices with which he came provided, and -which he tried on his audience with an antique gravity. Audiences have, -unfortunately, but little delicacy. In their plain way they show their -appreciation of whom they think “the better man” in a business-like -manner; and I remember how they insisted that the encouraging applause -which they gave to the new actor should be shared by his host. - -It should be mentioned that the prices on this engagement were raised -to the opera scale—a guinea in the stalls, half-a-guinea for the -dress-circle. - -When the actor took his benefit at the close of this laborious season, -the theatre presented an opera-house appearance, and was filled to -overflowing with a miscellany of brave men and fair women, the latter -arrayed in special splendour and giving the whole an air of rich luxury -and magnificence befitting the handsomest and best-appointed theatre in -the kingdom. Bouquets of unusual brilliancy and dimensions were laid -in position, clearly not brought for the enjoyment of the owners. The -entertainment consisted of the stock piece of ‘The Bells.’ Mr. Toole -performed Mr. Hollingshead’s farce, ‘The Birthplace of Podgers,’ a happy -subject, which shows that the “germ” of the æsthete “business” existed -twenty years ago. The feature of the night was the well-known scene from -‘The Hunchback,’ in which Modus is so pleasantly drawn into making a -declaration. Sheridan Knowles is often ridiculed for his sham Elizabethan -situations; yet it may be doubted if any living writer could treat this -incident with such freshness or so naturally. It is a piece of good, -wearing stuff, and will wear even better. When the scene drew up, the -handsome curtains, festooned in rich and abundant folds, revealed a new -effect, throwing out, by contrast, the pale greenish-tinted scene, and -heightening the light so that the two figures were projected on this -mellow background with wonderful brilliancy. Miss Terry’s performance -was full of animation and piquancy. Most remarkable, indeed, was the new -store of unexpected attitudes and graces revealed at every moment—pretty -stoopings, windings, sudden half turns, inviting “rallyings”—so that even -a Modus more insensible to her advances must have succumbed. But in truth -this wonderful creature “adorns all she touches.” It is clear that there -is a Jordan-like vein of comedy in her yet to be worked. Irving’s Modus -was full of a quaint earnestness, and his air of helplessness in the -hands of such a mistress was well maintained. Modus is generally made to -hover on the verge of oafishness, so as to make it surprising that there -should be any object in gaining such a being. Irving imparted a suitable -air to it, and lifted the character into pure comedy. - -At the end came the expected speech, delivered with a pleasant -familiarity, and dwelling on past successes and future plans. As in -the case of another Premier, announcement was made of “improvement -for tenants” in the pit and boxes, who were to have more room—to be -“rooted,” if not to the soil, in their places at least. It was a pleasant -and remarkable season to look back upon: the enchanting ‘Cup,’ which -lingers like a dream, or lotus-eating fancy; the ‘Corsican Brothers,’ so -sumptuously mounted; the splendid ‘Othello,’ the meeting of the American -and the English actor on the same stage, and their strangely opposed -readings of the same characters. - -The performance of ‘The Belle’s Stratagem,’ which supplemented the -attraction of ‘Othello,’ was interesting, as it introduced once more -to active life that excellent and sound old actor, Henry Howe, who is -now perhaps the only link with the generation of the great actors. It -was a graceful and thoughtful act of Irving’s to seek out the veteran -and attach him to his company. During the decade of years that have -since elapsed, he has always treated him with a kindly and courteous -consideration. Everyone who knows Mr. Howe—and everyone who does is glad -to be counted among his friends—can testify to his kindly and loveable -qualities. He has not the least particle of that testy discontent which -too often distinguishes the veteran actor, who extols the past and is -discontented with the present, because it is discontented with him, or -thinks that he lags superfluous on the stage. As we have talked with him -of a summer’s afternoon, in his little retreat at Isleworth, the image -of many a pleasant hour in the old Haymarket days has risen up with his -presence. It is always pleasant to encounter his honest face in the -Strand, where he lives, as he is hurrying to his work.[28] - -In January, 1882, our manager revived a piece in which he had achieved -one of his earliest triumphs—‘The Two Roses.’ Miss Terry was at this time -busily preparing for what was to be her great effort, in Juliet, and this -interruption to her labours was judicious policy on the manager’s part. -Much had occurred during the long interval of twelve years since the play -had been first performed, but many still recalled with enjoyment Irving’s -masterly creation. When he was casting the characters for the piece, he -had counted on the original Caleb Decie—Thorne—who held the traditions -of the play. Owing to some sudden change—I think to his entering on -management—this arrangement had to be given up, and the manager was -somewhat perplexed as to who he could find to fill the character. He -happened to be in Glasgow at this time, when the local manager said to -him, “There is a young fellow here who, I think, would exactly suit you; -he is intelligent, hard working, and anxious to get on. His name is -Alexander.” Irving accepted the advice, and secured an actor who was of -his own school, of well-defined instincts and a certain elegance, and -exactly suited to be _jeune premier_ of the Lyceum. It may be conceived -with what delight, as he himself has told me, this unexpected opening -was received by the then obscure youth; and at a pleasant supper the new -engagement was ratified. At this moment the young Glasgow candidate is -the prosperous manager of the St. James’s Theatre, a position which a -dozen years of conscientious work has placed him in. Far more rough and -thorny was the path along which Irving had to toil, during a score of -years, before he found himself at the head of a theatre. But in these -_fin de siècle_ times, the days and hours have doubled their value. - -The piece was well mounted and well played, and there was much interest -felt in comparing the new cast with the old. In a pleasant, half-sad -meditation, my friend Mr. Clement Scott called up some of the old -memories; the tyrant Death, he said, had played sad havoc with the -original companies that did so much for this English comedy. “Far away, -leagues from home, across the Atlantic sleep both Harry Montague and -Amy Fawcitt. We may associate them still with Jack Wyatt and Lottie—who -seemed the very boy and girl lovers that such a theme required—so bright -and manly and noble, so tender, young, and handsome.” David James, as I -have said, had taken the place of the oleaginous Honey, and for those who -had not seen the latter, was an admirable representative of the part. The -“Roses” were Miss Helen Mathews and Miss Emery. - -The manager, in his old part, received universal praise from the entire -circle of critics. Some considered it his most perfect creation, and -likened it to Got’s ‘Duc Job’ and Regnier’s ‘Annibal.’ It was certainly -a most finished and original performance; but it must be confessed that -the larger stage and larger house had its effect, and tempted the actor -into laying greater emphasis on details of the character. An actor -cannot stand still, as it were. Repetition for a hundred nights is one -of the vices of the modern stage, and leads to artificiality. Under the -old _répertoire_ system, when a piece was given for a few nights, then -suspended to be resumed after an interval, the actor came to his part -with a certain freshness and feeling of novelty. - -At the same time, it should be said that the play itself was accountable -for this loss of effect. It was of but an ephemeral sort, and belonged -to an old school which had passed away. Other players besides Irving, -conscious of this weakness, have felt themselves constrained to -supplement it by these broad touchings. The average “play of commerce” is -but the inspiration of the moment, and engendered by it—authors, manager, -actors, audience all join, as it were, in the composition. Every portion, -therefore, reflects the tone of the time. But after a number of years -this tone becomes lost or forgotten; the fashions of feeling and emotion, -both off as well as on the stage, also pass away. - -When closing his season and making the important announcement of the -selection of ‘Romeo and Juliet’ for the new one, the manager, as we have -seen, had promised some alterations and improvements in the theatre. -These were duly carried out, and not only added to the comfort of the -audience, but also to the profits of the management. The corridor at -the back of the dress-circle was taken in and supplied some sixty or -seventy new seats; while below, on the pit floor, place was found for -some two hundred additional persons, by including the saloon. Further, -the arch of the gallery which impeded the view was raised, padded -seats were furnished for the pit, and the manager was willing even to -supply “backs,” an unusual luxury, to the seats in the gallery; but the -Chamberlain interposed, on the ground that in any panic or hurrying down -the steep ascent, these might be found an obstruction. Other alterations -were made in the exits and entrances—though these were merely in the -nature of makeshifts. But the manager was not content until, many years -later, he had purchased the adjoining house and thoroughly remodelled the -whole.[29] - -The manager, in the interval, took his company on a provincial tour -to the leading towns. At Glasgow it was announced to be “the greatest -engagement ever witnessed in that city.” As he told his audience on the -last night, the receipts for the twelve nights amounted to over £4,000—an -average of £334 per night. But the extraordinary “drawing” power of our -actor was never exhibited more signally than during the engagement at -Edinburgh, at Mr. Howard’s Theatre, which produced results that were -really unprecedented. On his last appearance Irving told the audience -that “this engagement—and you must not take it for egotism—has been -the most remarkable one played for any twelve nights in any theatre, I -should think, in Great Britain, certainly out of London, and there are -some large theatres in London. I may tell you that there has been taken -during the engagement here £4,300, which is certainly the largest sum -ever had before in any theatre during the space of time, and I believe -it is perfectly unprecedented in any city.” This was a tribute to his -attraction. On his departure a gold repeater watch was presented to him. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -1882. - -‘ROMEO AND JULIET’—THE BANQUET. - - -By March 8, 1882, the great revival of ‘Romeo and Juliet’ was ready. -For this performance the manager drew upon all the resources of his -taste, purse, study, and experience. The fascinating play, indeed, -offered opportunities for adornment only too tempting. Those glittering, -bewitching pictures still linger in the memory of the playgoer, though -more than ten years have elapsed since the opening night “Among the -restorations will be found that of Romeo’s unrequited love for Rosaline, -omitted, among other things, in Garrick’s version.” - -Those who came away from the Lyceum on that opening night must have had -a sense almost of bewilderment, so rich and dazzling were the scenes of -light and colour that had for hours passed before their eyes. According -to the true illusive principle in use on this stage, the lights are -lowered as every scene is about to change, by which a sense of mystery is -produced, and the prosaic mechanism of the movement is shrouded. Hence, -a sort of richness of effect and surprise as the gloom passes away and -a gorgeous scene steeped in effulgence and colour is revealed. It would -take long to detail the beautiful views, streets, palaces, chambers, -dresses, groupings, that were set before the audience, all devised with -an extraordinary originality and fertility of resource; though this was -the third of these Italian revivals. When it is considered that there -were twenty-two scenes, and that most of these were “sets,” it is amazing -with what rapidity and smoothness the changes were contrived. Not the -least pleasurable part of the whole was the romantic music, written in a -flowing, tender strain by Sir Julius Benedict, full of a juvenile freedom -and spirit, thoroughly Italian in character, and having something of the -grace and character of Schubert’s ‘Rosamunde.’ In the exquisite garden, -with its depth of silvered trees glistening in the moonlight, viewed -from a terrace, the arrangement of the balcony was the only successful -solution seen as yet. It has always been forgotten that Juliet has to -act—is, as it were, “on the stage”—and should not be perched in a little -wobbling cage. Here it was made a sort of solid loggia, as much a part of -the stage as that upon which her lover was standing. I fancy this was the -scenic triumph of the night. - -When it is considered that Romeo and Juliet are characters almost -impossible to perform so as to reach the Shakespearian ideal, it becomes -easier to “liberate one’s mind” on the subject of the performance of -the two leading characters. The chief objection was that they scarcely -presented the ideal of superabundant youth—boyish and girlish—required by -the play. I have always thought this a point to be but little insisted -upon; it is much the same as with strictness of costume, which is -overpowered, as it were, by the acting. It is the _acting_ of youth, not -the appearance of youth, that is required; and a case is conceivable -where all the flush of youth with its physical accompaniments may be -present in perfection, and yet from failure of the acting the idea of -maturity and age may be conveyed.[30] In the dramatic ballroom scene, -when he was moving about arrayed as a pilgrim, the unbecoming dress and -rather too swarthy features seemed to convey the presentment of a person -in the prime of life. The critics spoke freely in this sense. - -In the latter, more tragic portion of the play, the very intensity of -the emotion seemed to add maturity and depth to the character of Romeo. -Nothing could better supply the notion of impending destiny, of gathering -gloom, than the view of the dismal heart-chilling street, the scene of -the visit to the apothecary. Our actor’s picturesque sense was shown in -his almost perfect conception of this situation. The forlorn look of the -houses, the general desolation, the stormy grandeur in keeping with the -surroundings, the properly subdued grotesqueness of the seller of simples -(it was the grotesqueness of _misery_ that was conveyed), filled the -heart with a sadness that was almost real. In Miss Terry’s case there was -a division of opinions, some thinking her performance all but perfect, -others noting the absence of “girlishness.” All agreed as to its engaging -character and its winning charm. Terriss was the Mercutio, which he gave -with his favourite blunt impetuosity. But one of the most perfectly -played characters was Mrs. Stirling’s Nurse. This accomplished woman -represented all the best traditions—high training, admirable elocution, -with the art of giving due weight and breadth to every utterance. And -yet—here was a curious phenomenon—the very excellence of the delineation -disturbed the balance of the play. The Nurse became almost as important -as the leading performers, but not from any fault of the actress. She -but followed the due course. This is a blemish which is found in many -exhibitions of Shakespearian plays, where the inferior actor works up -his Dogberry, or his Gravedigger, or his Jacques to the very fullest -extent of which they are capable. But there should be subordination; -these are merely humours exhibited _en passant_. With an actress of Mrs. -Stirling’s powers and rank, the manager no doubt felt too much delicacy -to interfere; nor would perhaps the audience have placidly accepted any -effacing of her part. But as it was, the figure of this humble retainer -became unduly prominent.[31] - -‘Romeo and Juliet’ was witnessed one night by the impetuous Sarah -Bernhardt, who afterwards came behind the scenes to congratulate the -performers. “How can you act in this way every night?” she exclaimed to -Ellen Terry. The latter, in her simple, natural way, explained: “It is -the audience—they inspire me!” - -Such was this refined, elegant, and truly brilliant spectacle, which, -as usual, furnished “talk for the town,” and stirred its interest. The -hundredth night of performance was celebrated by a banquet on the stage, -on Sunday night, June 25, 1882. Here assembled critics, dramatists, -artists, _e tutti quanti_; there were many admirers, friends, and -sympathizers present, some of whom have since passed away—Sir W. Hardman, -Dr. Cox, Laman Blanchard, Palgrave Simpson, and many more. There is a -sadness in thinking of these disappearances. - -Among the guests at the banquet was Mr. Abbey, the American manager, well -known for his many daring and very successful _coups_ in management. In -the course of the night there were some rumours circulated as to the -motives of his presence in town; but an allusion in Irving’s speech, when -he said pointedly that he hoped next year to have good experience of the -cordiality of American audiences, set the matter at rest. This scheme -had long been in his thoughts; and, indeed, already many invitations -and proposals had been made to him to visit the United States. There -was something dazzling and fascinating in this prospect of going forth -to conquer a new great kingdom and new audiences. There was the chance, -too, of riches “beyond the dreams of avarice.” No wonder, then, that the -scheme began to take shape, and was presently to be decided upon. - -After one hundred and thirty nights’ performance of ‘Romeo and Juliet,’ -the season was brought to a close, the manager taking “a benefit” on his -last night. Some ungracious folk object to this old-established form of -compliment, but he defended it in a very modest and judicious way. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -1882. - -‘MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING’—AMERICAN VISIT ARRANGED. - - -In his speech at the close of the season, the manager announced the -new piece selected for the next season. With that judicious view to -contrast or relief which directed all his efforts, he had settled on a -true comedy—the effective ‘Much Ado About Nothing.’ To this piece many -had long since pointed as being exactly adapted to the special gifts -of the two performers. Here was the fourth Shakespearian play of an -Italian complexion and atmosphere, which entailed accordingly a fresh -exhibition of Italian streets, manners, and costumes. A happy impression -was produced by the very note of preparation, the air was filled with -the breath of the coming piece; all felt, in anticipation, the agreeable -humours and fancies of Benedick and his Beatrice. This feeling of comedy, -it may be said, is ever a delightful one; it spreads abroad a placid, -quiet enjoyment and good-humour with which nothing else can compare. - -On Wednesday, October 11, 1882, the delightful piece was brought out. -From the excellent acting of the two principal performers, and the -beautiful “setting” of the whole, it was destined to become one of the -most popular and acceptable of the Lyceum _répertoire_. By a curious -delusion, owing no doubt to the recollection of the lavish splendours of -‘Romeo and Juliet,’ some critics pronounced that it had been brought out -with but a moderate display of scenic resources. The truth was that the -play had been “mounted” with as much state as it would properly bear. -Some scenes were equipped in an unusually lavish and superb style. The -general effect, however, was harmonious; indeed, the happy tact of the -manager was never displayed to such advantage as in seizing on what might -be termed the proper key of the piece. When we recall, with a pleasant -enjoyment, these various Lyceum spectacles, we find that there is no -confusion of one with the other, that each has a special, distinct note, -and thus is started a train of impressions, delightful for their variety, -which enrich the chambers of the memory. - -There was one scene which, for its splendour and originality, was to -be talked of for many a day, viz., the beautiful interior of a church -at Messina—the “Church Scene,” as it was called. The art displayed -here, the combination of “built-up” scenery with “cloths,” the rich -harmonious tintings, the ecclesiastical details, the metal-work, altars, -etc., made an exquisite picture.[32] The well-known passage of the -interrupted bridal was “laid out” with extraordinary picturesqueness, -much emphasis being given to the religious rites. It was felt, however, -that the genuflections before the altar were introducing rather too -awful a suggestion, though the intention was, no doubt, reverent. It -must be admitted by all whose memories wander back to that performance, -that the vision of this “Church Scene” rises before them with an almost -pathetic significance, owing in some part to the touching, sympathetic -acting of Miss Millward. By this emphasizing of the state and publicity -of the scene, the crowds and rich dresses and ecclesiastical robes, the -“distressful” character of such a trial for a young bride was brought out -in a very striking way. - -All eyes, as it may be conceived, were drawn to the figures of Benedick -and Beatrice, as portrayed by Irving and Ellen Terry. Their scenes were -followed with a delighted interest, and their gay encounters of wit and -flirtation gave unalloyed pleasure. Irving threw a Malvolian gravity over -the character, alternated by a certain jocoseness. - -These two characters, Benedick and Beatrice, are so much the heritage of -all lovers of true comedy, that everyone seems to have fixed a standard -for himself, which he will critically apply to every representation. This -partiality does not make us particularly _exigeant_, but we have each -our own fancies. There is nothing more interesting, entertaining, or -fruitful in speculation than the discussion of how favourite characters -in comedy should be represented. It is as though they were figures in -real life. For myself, I confess I should have preferred that the actor -had taken the character into still higher realms of airy comedy, and -had less emphasized the somewhat farcical passages. Benedick was a man -of capacity, a soldier, a gentleman, and though he was likely to be so -imposed upon, he would not have given his friends the satisfaction of -seeing him in this dejected condition, almost inviting laughter and rude -“rallying.”[33] - -During all this time, preparations for the great American visit were -being carefully matured. There is supposed to be a sort of hostility -between artistic gifts and business-like habits; but Irving has -always shown great capacity where organization and arrangement are in -question—he has the clearest vision, and the firmest, most decided -purpose. In this he has often suggested a surprising likeness to the -departed novelist Dickens, who was also remarkable for his business power -and decision of character, and whose motto it was to do every trifle in -the best way that it could be done. Anything worth doing at all, he would -say, was worth doing well. - -Nothing was left undone to ensure success. Everything was “thought -out” beforehand with the greatest care and deliberation. The American -manager, Abbey, who had undertaken the direction of the venture, and had -a vast store of experience and skill at command, planned, of course, -the arrangements of the visit; but the purely theatrical details were -thrown upon the English actor, who had to equip completely some dozen -plays with scenery, dresses, and properties. A following of from seventy -to a hundred persons—including actors, actresses, secretaries, scenic -and music artists, dressers, supernumeraries—was to be taken out.[34] -Further, with a view to making the company thoroughly familiar with the -_répertoire_, for months beforehand a sort of continuous rehearsal went -on before the regular Lyceum audiences; that is, all the stock-pieces -were revived one after the other, and performed with much care. - -The honours and flattering tributes that were now lavished on the -departing actor would have turned the head of one less sensible or -less unspoiled. The town seemed really to have “run horn-mad” after -him, and could talk of nothing but of him and his expedition. As was -to be expected, the compliment of a public dinner was the smallest of -these tributes. Presents and invitations were lavished upon him. In a -caricature he was shown as being profusely anointed, by critics and -others, from a tub filled with a composition labelled “butter.” In -another the Prince of Wales is obsequiously presenting an invitation, -which the actor excuses himself from accepting owing to “my many -engagements.” The most famous portrait-painter of the day begged -to be allowed to paint his picture, which he wished to offer as a -present to the Garrick Club.[35] Rumours were busily circulated—and -contradicted—that a knighthood had been offered and declined. - -The public dinner at St. James’s Hall was fixed for July 4—a compliment -to the American people. The list of stewards was truly extraordinary, -comprising almost everyone of mark in the arts and the great professions. -The Chief Justice, Lord Coleridge, who was himself setting out for a tour -in the States, was to take the chair. Mr. Gladstone and some Cabinet -Ministers were on the committee. There were three thousand applicants for -the five hundred possible seats, all that Mr. Pinches, the secretary—a -relation of the actor’s old master—could contrive to supply. Two Bishops -excused their attendance in flattering terms; and Mr. Gladstone would -gladly have attended, but was compelled by his duties to be absent.[36] -At this banquet, besides the Chief Justice and the Lord Chancellor of -Ireland, there were five other judges present, together with all that was -distinguished in the professions and arts. - -The Chairman, in a thoughtful and studied speech, delivered perhaps -one of the best _apologias_ for the actor that is ever likely to be -offered. The skill and moderation of the accomplished advocate was shown -to perfection: he did not adulate, but gave the actor a graduated and -judicious measure of praise for all he had done in the improvement in the -general tone, morals, and methods of the stage. Irving acknowledged these -compliments in grateful and heartfelt terms, addressed not so much to the -diners present as to the kingdom in general. - -After these metropolitan honours, he passed to Edinburgh, Glasgow, and -Liverpool. At each city he was greeted with complimentary banquets. -At Edinburgh he opened a new theatre, named in compliment to his own, -the Lyceum. He was invited to Hawarden by Mr. Gladstone, and also to -Knowsley, on a visit to Lord Derby. - -On October 10, 1883, the chief members of the company—over forty in -number—sailed for New York, under the conduct of Mr. Bram Stoker. Tons -of scenery, dresses, properties, etc., had been already shipped. The -following day Irving and Miss Terry embarked on board the White Star -liner, _The Britannic_. Up to the last moment telegrams and letters -containing good wishes literally by hundreds were being brought in. Even -while the vessel was detained at Queenstown, the Mayor and Corporation -of Cork seized the opportunity of saluting him with a parting address. -The incidents have been all described by my friend Mr. Joseph Hatton, who -attended the party as “historiographer”; and I may refer the reader to -his interesting volumes. - -The visit was to prove one long triumph, and the six months’ progress -a strange, wonderful phantasmagoria of receptions, entertainments, -hospitalities of all kinds. Novel and original, too, were the humours and -fashions that greeted them everywhere, and the eyes of the two players -must have often turned back with pleasure to that odd pantomime. - -‘The Bells’ was selected for the opening performance which was on October -29, 1883. Though his reception was overpowering and tumultuous, there was -some hesitation as to the success of the play itself, and the critics -seemed to be a little doubtful as to whether it fairly represented the -full measure of his gifts. ‘Charles I.’, however, followed, and the two -great artists made the profoundest impression. But when ‘Louis XI.’ and -‘Much Ado About Nothing’ were presented, all doubts vanished. Miss Terry -won all hearts; her sympathetic style and winsome ways made conquest of -every audience. Nothing struck the Americans with such astonishment as -the exquisite arrangement and “stage management” of the Shakespearian -comedy, the reserved yet effectively harmonious treatment of all the -details being a complete revelation. The actor’s consummate taste was -recognised; in fact, the result of the visit was a complete revolution -in all the American stage methods. The extraordinary record of lavish -hospitalities, tributes of all kinds, with the adventures, is set -forth fully in the story of the tour. But it is only by consulting the -American journals that we can gather a notion of the odd “humours,” -often grotesque, by which the American public displays its enthusiastic -approbation.[37] The “interviewers,” as may be imagined, were rampant, -and extracted from the genial and courteous actor opinions on everything -connected with his profession. One immortal criticism deserves to be -recorded here. “He has rung,” said a newspaper, “_the knell of gibbering_ -GOSH!”[38] - -The party remained in the country until the May of the year following. -The receipts exceeded every forecast, a quarter of a million dollars -having been taken in the first four weeks. But the expenses were -enormous. The substantial profit was found in Irving’s securing a new, -vast, and prominent audience in the West; in his winning the suffrages of -Americans abroad as well as of those at home, who became his most fervent -adherents. - -The following is an amusing scene. Irving had been invited to the -Journalists’ Club, and after the close of the performance of ‘Louis -XI.,’ the actor had come round to the club, where he partook of a supper -tendered to him by a few members in a private room. He had been in the -building three-quarters of an hour before he made known his presence by -coming upstairs, escorted by several gentlemen. The guest of the evening -then held an informal reception. - -“After he had said something pleasant to almost everyone, he volunteered -to do his share towards entertaining those present. It had been slightly -hinted to him that something of the kind was looked for, and he entered -into the spirit of the occasion. Then the great tragedian turned from -the serious to the comic. He recited, in a way that provoked roars of -laughter, the funny little poem, ‘Tommy’s First Love.’ - -“When this was over there was a unanimous shout, which lasted several -minutes. It was a loud cry for more. Mr. Irving expressed his willingness -to give another recitation, and called for a chair. After sitting down -he observed that, as all were standing, those in the rear could see but -indifferently. ‘Suppose we change the stage management,’ he suggested. -‘Can’t we all sit down?’ This was received with some merriment, as there -were few chairs in the room. Someone, however, saw Mr. Irving’s idea that -those in the front ranks should sit upon the floor, and in a moment the -four foremost lines were kneeling upon the carpet. - -“Mr. Irving then recited ‘Eugene Aram’s Dream.’ The splendid elocutionary -talents of the actor kept the audience spellbound. Every emotion, every -pang of the schoolmaster was vividly depicted by the expressive face of -the tragedian. The scene was a remarkable one. Mr. Irving threw himself -so earnestly into the character that at one time _he tore the white -necktie from his throat_ without realizing what he was doing, and, as -his features were wrought up to show the usher’s agony, similar lines -seemed to show themselves by sympathy in the faces of those present. At -the close of the recitation the motionless figures, some standing, some -sitting with crossed legs upon the floor, became moving, enthusiastic -men. Those on their feet threw their arms into the air and cheered as -if for dear life, while those on the floor bounded up simultaneously -and expressed their enthusiasm. It was some time before the excitement -subsided. - -“I recited that once to a friend of mine,” said Mr. Irving, after quiet -had been restored, “and what do you think he said? Why, he seriously -exclaimed: ‘There is one point in that story that I’d like to know -about. _What became of the boy?_’” This anecdote produced a chorus of -laughter. After shaking hands all round, Mr. Irving went downstairs and -out, accompanied by the club’s officers. Before he left the room, “Three -cheers for Mr. Irving” were called for and given by throats already -hoarse with applauding him. - -A second American expedition followed in the September of the same year, -during which a visit was paid to Canada. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -1884. - -‘TWELFTH NIGHT’—‘THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD’—OXFORD HONOURS. - - -On July 8, 1884, a few weeks after the return to London, ‘Twelfth Night’ -was brought out at the Lyceum, and, for luxury of scenery, dresses, and -mounting, fully equalled all its predecessors. Irving was, of course, -the Malvolio, which he rendered not exactly after Charles Lamb’s -interpretation, but, indeed, as anyone of Shakespearian intelligence -would have done, never lapsing into farce, but treating the whole -earnestly. It was a beautiful and graceful show, full of alternate -sympathy and humour. Personally we look back to it as one of the most -welcome and interesting of his revivals; all the incidents connected with -Viola, so charmingly interpreted by Ellen Terry, have an irresistible and -touching interest. The scenery was costly and exquisite, and reflected -the tone of the piece. The audience, however, listened with a somewhat -languid interest—some said because of the oppressive heat of a July -night, which fretted and put them out of humour; but I believe because -they were unfamiliar with the piece, and had not been “educated up to -it.” When the manager came out at the close, with all the good-humour -and freedom of a privileged favourite, he was confounded to find his -expressions of self-congratulation and satisfaction greeted with uncouth -denial and rude interruptions. He was not accustomed to such coarse -reception, and with much spirit he administered this well-deserved -chastisement: “I can’t understand how a company of earnest comedians and -admirable actors, having these three cardinal virtues of actors—being -sober, clean, and perfect—and having exercised their abilities on one of -the most difficult plays, can have given any cause for dissatisfaction.” -But there are curious idiosyncrasies in audiences, one of which is, as I -have noted, that they must be in some way familiar with the piece and its -incidents; and there must be broad, comprehensive types of character. Now -Malvolio, one of the most delicately exquisite of conceptions, it could -be seen, was almost unintelligible to “the general”: they took him for -some “crank,” or half-cracked being, appearing in his nightcap, etc. Sir -Toby and Sir Andrew and their rollickings were actually thought “low” or -vulgar, on the same principle that Tony Lumpkin’s alehouse friend could -not abide anything low. So much for the ignorant, ill-mannered section of -the audience. - -It was argued, indeed, by critics that Irving’s Malvolio was somewhat -_too_ much in earnest, and therefore was liable to be accepted by the -audience as a serious person, actually in love with his mistress, which -with his eccentricities and oddities became an impertinence. Whereas, -as Lamb says, by imparting a quaint humorousness, the audience sees the -absurdity of the jest and is amused. Elia, indeed, always insists that -the actor of such “fantastical” parts should hint to the audience, slyly, -as it were, that he is only half in earnest. - -A most delightful sense of pure natural comedy was induced by the -likeness between the Terrys, brother and sister, who had a sort of -Shakespearian elegance in their bearing. But this did not avail much -with the uncultured crowd. It was objected also that the play was set -forth somewhat pedantically and too much _au grand sérieux_, many of -the actors, not being comedians—witness Mr. Terriss—imparting a literal -tone to all they said and did. This was not without its effect on the -audience, who by the very promise of seriousness were beguiled into -expecting something serious. Irving himself was not wholly free from -this method; and in the strange scene of the imprisonment, so difficult -to “carry off,” he was deeply tragic, as if really suffering, and without -any underlying grotesqueness. His exit, too, with solemn menaces, had the -air of retributive punishment in store. - -Now followed a second expedition to the States, as well as to Canada, -the details of which I pass over. On the reopening of his theatre on -his return a rather disagreeable episode occurred, connected with an -alteration he had made in the arrangement of his house. It was announced -that places in the pit might be reserved and secured in advance, which -gave rise to indignant protest and to cries of “_Give us back our Pit_.” -The question was warmly discussed in the newspapers. - -The advantage of the debate was that it clearly established a true -theatrical principle—viz., that the pit and galleries are intended for -the crowd, and should be free and open to the “man in the street”: that -the best seats here must be the prize of the strongest and most patient. -The principle of numbering and booking, it was shown, would actually -abolish the pit. The judicious manager understood and recognised the -public discontent, and made announcement that on May 18 he would restore -the old custom. - -In accordance with his engagement, the manager now proceeded to get ready -Wills’s pleasing and sympathetic drama, ‘Olivia.’ This was no doubt -selected with a view to furnishing a fresh opportunity for the display -of Miss Terry’s attractions; but it will be seen that she was not to be -altogether the cynosure of the whole, and that two other accomplished -performers were to share the honours of the piece. It was produced on May -27, 1885, and excited much interest. The creation of Dr. Primrose is one -of the most interesting and most original of Irving’s characters. It is -elaborated and finished to the very highest point, and yet there is no -lack of simplicity or unaffected grace. The character suited him in every -way, and seemed to hold completely in check all his little “mannerisms,” -as they are called. There was a sort of Meissonnier delicacy in his -touches, and scarcely any other of his characters is so filled in and -rounded with unspoken acting—that is, by the play of facial expression, -gesture, walk, etc. It is, indeed, a delightful performance, and always -holds the audience, which attentively follows the Vicar’s successive -emotions. These the actor allows unconsciously, as it were, to escape -him, as he pursues his little domestic course unconscious of spectators. -One reason for this complete success was, of course, that Irving, like so -many others, had read, known, and felt this engaging character from his -childhood, altogether outside dramatic conditions, though of course it is -not every play that enjoys this advantage. - -As we look back to the Lyceum, the eye rests with infinite pleasure on -the engaging figure of the Vicar, with his powdered wig and rusted suit, -and that amiable smile of simplicity which betokened what agreeable -fancies were occupying his mind. There he was, the centre of a happy -family, content with the happiness of his wife and children. No picture -could have been prettier. With an exquisite feeling of propriety, the -quaint, antique associations were developed, and no more pleasing scene -could have been conceived, or one that lingers more in the memory, than -the scene at night, when the family are singing at the spinet, Moses -accompanying with his flute,[39] the Vicar in his chair, the cuckoo-clock -in the corner. It was a fine instinct that directed these things. - -It should be added that the piece had been somewhat altered from its -first shape, and no doubt gained from the manager’s suggestions. One -of the most astonishing things connected with it is the admirably firm -and coherent construction, it being laid out in the most effective way. -Its various characters are introduced with singular skill. The last -act seemed, indeed, somewhat superfluous and too much drawn out; but -the whole design was really admirable. Yet its adapter was admittedly -deficient in the arts of construction, and most of his other pieces -display singular and even ludicrous incoherencies. It might be that he -had received assistance in this individual case, or had been so inspired -by the subject as to triumph over his own defects. - -Such tales as these—world-wide stories that belong to all countries and -to all time—Shakespearian, in short—seem on repetition to have the air -of novelty; at least, they always interest. The situations are dramatic, -and the characters even more dramatic than the situations. Miss Terry’s -Olivia is not only one of her best characters, but is a most touchingly -graceful and varied performance. The gifted pair are indeed at their -best here. In the excellently-contrived scene at the Dragon, Miss Terry’s -transition of horror, astonishment, rage, shame, succeeding each other, -were displayed with extraordinary force and variety. Some insisted that -the part suffered from her restlessness, but, as it was happily said, -“She is for ever flickering about the stage in a series of _poses_, or -rather disturbance of _pose_, each in itself so charming that one can -hardly account for the distrust she herself shows of it by instantly -changing it for another.” The other characters were no less excellent -in their way. Terriss, as the Squire, was admirably suited, his very -defect—an excessively pronounced brusqueness—adding to the effect. I -recollect it was said at the time in the theatre that there was only the -one performer for Thornhill, and that one Terriss. He—and he only—must be -secured. He never performed so well as in this character. - -A year later there occurred what must have been one of the most -gratifying incidents in the actor’s career, and one of the most pleasant -to recall. The Oxford commencements, held on June 26, 1886, were more -than usually brilliant. At that time, the late learned and popular Dr. -Jowett was Vice-Chancellor, a man, as is well known, of the largest -sympathies. Though a divine, he took a deep interest in Irving and his -profession. On its being proposed to confer honorary degrees on certain -distinguished guests, including Mr. John Bright, the Vice-Chancellor, it -is said, suggested the name of the well-known actor. There was something, -as I say, dramatic or characteristic in this proposal, coming as it -did from so expressive a personality. The University, however, was not -prepared to go so far as this, though the proposal was only negatived, -it is said, by a narrow majority of two votes. The vigorous purpose of -the Vice-Chancellor was not to be thus baffled, and by a brilliant _coup_ -he contrived that the very omission of the actor’s name—like the absence -of one portrait from a series—should suggest that the chief performer -had been “left” out, and thus supplied a fresh element in the brilliancy -of his reception. He invited him to deliver a lecture on his art in the -very precincts of the University, and under the patronage of its most -distinguished professors and “Heads,” and it may be conceived that the -figure of the popular player became the cynosure of attraction in the -brilliant academic show. - - “For when the well-grac’d actor quits the scene, - The eyes of men are idly bent on him that enters next.” - -When it became known that the actor was to give his address, everyone -of note and culture and importance in the place rushed to secure seats. -Some fourteen hundred persons were present, with most of “the Heads of -Houses,” and distinguished professors. Dr. Jowett welcomed him in some -warm and well-chosen phrases, telling him how much honoured they felt by -his coming to them. A good English actor, he said happily enough, lived -in the best company—that of Goethe and Shakespeare; and coming from such, -he might seem to convey that he was good enough company for them. - -But during the year 1892 the University of Dublin was the first to -recognise officially the actor’s position, and at the celebration of its -tercentenary conferred on him the degree of Doctor of Letters, in company -with many distinguished men. Indeed, Irving’s sympathetic temperament -has always been specially acceptable to this University, and the youths -of Trinity College from the beginning were eager to exhibit their -appreciation and admiration of his talent. They would attend him home -from the theatre in uproarious procession, and sing songs in his praise -in the galleries. So early as June, 1877, he had given a reading in the -University in its great Examination Hall. The Provost, the Dean, and -other “dons” all attended. He gave ‘Richard III.,’ a chapter of ‘David -Copperfield,’ and ‘Eugene Aram.’ An illuminated address was presented to -him, and to make the day truly festive and collegiate, the actor dined in -the hall, the guest of the college, and went his way covered with honours. - -Later came the turn of Edinburgh, where he was much considered, and in -1881 delivered a lecture before the Edinburgh Philosophical Institute. -He gave, also, an interesting lecture on acting at the Royal Institution -in London. With pleasure, too, must he look back to his welcome at -Harvard University, in the United States. The novelty of the scene, the -warm welcome accorded to him in a strange land, must have made a most -welcome form of honour. He delivered a lecture on the “Art of Acting”—his -favourite topic—in the great Sande’s Theatre, into which over two -thousand persons were crowded—the usual audience was sixteen hundred. An -enormous crowd blocked the doors, so that the actor on his arrival could -not gain admittance, and had to be taken in by a subterranean passage. -The president was in a conspicuous place, and all the professors and -dons attended. Another American University, that of Cambridge, also -invited him to lecture (rather to give instruction) before them, and -the newspapers of the country declared that the honours with which he -was welcomed were really “unprecedented.” Again he discoursed on the -“Art of Acting.” An even more flattering and unusual compliment was -the invitation to the Military Academy at West-point, where, with his -company, he performed ‘The Merchant of Venice’ in Elizabethan dresses, -but without scenery—to the huge enjoyment of professors and students. -Here is a round of University distinctions that has never fallen to the -lot of any other actor. We may see in it an instinctive recognition of a -cultured and artistic feeling that has influenced the community and done -excellent educational service. - -Irving had long wished to display his sardonic power in Goethe’s great -character of Mephistopheles. He had already given proof of his quality -in this line in Louis XI. and Richard III.; but there was a piquancy -and range in Mephistopheles which naturally offered him an attraction, -from the mixture of the comic or grotesque with deep tragic force. It -also offered room for a superb and almost unlimited display of scenic -magnificence. It was no secret, too, that in this particular display he -was resolved to surpass all his previous efforts. - -To Wills was entrusted the work of preparing the adaptation, this writer -having, as I said, a command of flowing and melodious versification, -which, moreover, was fitted to the actor’s delivery. The adapter had -completed his task many years before, and the piece had long lain in the -manager’s desk. During this period he let his conception of the piece -slowly ripen; he discussed it with scholars; thought over it; while -the adapter, a German student himself, revised his work at intervals -according to the views of his chief. All this was judicious enough. It -was, however, destined to be the last work that he was to prepare for his -old friend and faithful Lyceum patron. It must be said that the latest -adapter was not altogether well fitted for the task, as he was too much -given to descriptions and “recitations,” while Mephistopheles might have -been made far more of. - -The preparations made were of the most thorough kind. For months the -manager’s rooms were hung round with a profusion of sketches by artists -of all kinds, relics of Nuremberg and the Goethe country, with old -engravings of Albert Dürer, and great folios of costumes. To permeate -himself with something of the tone and feeling of the piece, he travelled -in Germany, accompanied by his scene-painter, Mr. Craven. Both stayed -at Nuremberg, where the artist imbued himself with the whole poetry of -the old city. Everyone of artistic feeling will recall one truly romantic -scene—a simple cloth set very forward on the scene, perhaps to its -disadvantage—a view of the old city, with its dull red high roofs and -quaintly-peaked spires. - -During the preparations, the theatre, now some eighty years old, had been -redecorated afresh, but at the complete sacrifice of the old Vestris -adornments, the elegant medallions or cameos, and the double-gilt -pillars, which were thought to interfere with the view. The outline of -the dress-circle was brought forward with some gain of space, and its -graceful undulations were abolished. For such changes no one can be -brought to account—the irresistible pressure of the time and the laws of -convenience bring them about. An entirely new system of decoration was -introduced, suggested by that of Raffaelle’s Loggie at the Vatican, which -seemed scarcely sober enough for an auditorium. More structural changes -were also made in the interests of the galleries, of which the manager -has always shown himself careful. - -On December 19, 1886, the piece was produced. There was the now -invariable excitement of a Lyceum _première_, and there were stories -of frantic efforts, grovellings, implorings, etc., to obtain a seat. A -peer had actually been seen in the gallery—and was more than content -with his place. The Royal Family were in their box, and the Prince, then -in mourning, watched the play from behind the scenes. Mephistopheles -was destined for many a night to give the keenest enjoyment to vast -audiences. It was, indeed, a most original conception. With successive -performances he enriched it with innumerable telling and grotesque -touches; for, as I have said, the adapter had “laid out” the character on -rather conventional lines. In spite of all these defects, he suggested -the notion of “uncanniness” and a supernatural _diablerie_. His antic -scaring of the women at the church-door will be recalled by many. -Miss Terry’s Marguerite was full of pathos and poetry, occasionally -suggesting, as in the “Jewel” scene, the operatic heroine. But at the -first performance it became plain that a serious mistake had been made -in the choice of Conway for the hero, Faust. He seemed scarcely to feel -or understand the part; there was a lack of passion and sympathy. It -was, indeed, an overwhelming burden for a player whose gifts lay in the -direction of light comedy. - -But on one Saturday night the audience was somewhat astonished to see -before them a new Faust, one who, moreover, came on with a book in his -hand, which he continued to read aloud even after Mephisto had paid him -his visit through the steam clouds. It proved that Conway was suffering -from gout, and Alexander, resigning his own character to Tyars, took the -_rôle_ of Faust, which on the following night he assumed permanently, and -“discharged” in the regular way. Considering the shortness of the notice, -he performed this awkward duty _en vrai artiste_—as, indeed, might be -expected.[40] However, the cast was further strengthened by the excellent -Mrs. Stirling, whose part was scarcely worthy of her. Placing a strong -performer in a part that is inferior in strength, instead of improving or -fortifying, only further brings out the poverty of the character. - -In this piece numerous scientific devices were introduced to add to -the effect, such as the clouds of steam which veiled the apparition of -Mephistopheles, a device of French origin. This is scarcely illusive, as -it is attended by an unmistakable “hissing” sound, as of a locomotive; -it seems what it is—namely, steam. The blue electric light flashed with -weird effect as the swords of Valentine and Faust crossed. But here again -there was an electric wire and “contact,” and a current “switched on.” -It may be paradoxical to say so, but these “advances” in scenic art are -really retrograde steps. - -Of the regular scenes or structures put on the stage, it would be -difficult to say too much. The grandly-built porch of the Church of St. -Lorentz Platz at Nuremberg, and the buildings grouped round it, were -extraordinary works of construction, the porch being “moulded” in all its -details, and of the real or natural size. Another scene that lingers in -the memory with a sort of twilight melancholy is the garden scene, which -again illustrates the admirable instinct of the manager. Red-brick walls -of calm, quiet tones, old trees, and, above all, the sombre towers of -the city, were seen in the distance. The dresses of the characters were -chosen to harmonize, and the deep sunset cast a melancholy glow or tinge -over all. The most striking effects were contrived by changes of the -lights and “mediums.” - -The Brocken scene, for its vastness and ambitious attempt to suggest -space and atmosphere, has never been surpassed. Most people were struck -by the bewildering crowd of unearthly spirits, witches, and demons, etc.; -but the real marvel was the simulation of the chill mountain atmosphere, -the air of dizziness, of mists that hover over vast crevasses and depths, -and make one shiver to look at. The designing, direction, and controlling -of the elements in this wonderful scene seemed a bewildering and gigantic -task. - -The vision of Angels in the last act seemed a little conventional. There -were many objections, too, taken mostly by Germans, to the treatment of -the great story, such as the fixing of the scene at Nuremberg instead of -at Leipsic, the placing the drinking bout in the open air, and at the -tavern door, instead of in Auerbach’s cellar. These changes could not, of -course, be justified, save on the ground of theatrical expediency. - -For seven months, though ‘Faust’ continued to attract vast houses, it had -really, as the manager said, “only started on its wild career.” On the -occasion of Miss Terry’s benefit, he made an interesting, half-jocular -speech announcing his plans. - -The ninety-ninth night of ‘Faust’ was celebrated in a remarkable and -somewhat appropriate fashion. The venerable Abbé Liszt was at this time -in London, followed with an eager curiosity, affecting even the “cabbies” -with interest, who were heard talking of the “Habby List.” No one who -had seen him at this time will forget the striking personality of this -interesting and brilliant man. He was induced to visit the theatre, -and to witness the performance. After the first act, the orchestra -broke into his own “Hungarian March,” and, being presently recognised -by the audience, the great virtuoso received a perfect ovation. He -followed the piece throughout with singular interest, and applauded -with enthusiasm. After the play was over, he was welcomed at a supper -in the old Beef-steak dining-room, where there were invited to meet him -a few distinguished persons. His favourite dishes—“lentil pudding, lamb -cutlets, mushrooms in batter”—were prepared for him by Gunter’s _chef_. -He was delighted with this delicate hospitality. This is one of the many -pleasant and dignified memories associated with the Lyceum. - -It was when ‘Faust’ was being played that the catastrophe of the burning -of the French Opéra Comique occurred. This excited general sympathy, -and the kindly manager of the Lyceum promised that when the proper -time came he would furnish assistance. In due course a performance of -‘Faust’ was announced for the benefit of the sufferers, and a crowded -audience assembled. Everyone concerned—and they were to be counted by -hundreds—gave their services gratis—the manager behaved in his own -liberal style—and, as the result, a sum of £419 was despatched to Paris. -This liberality was much appreciated by the French press. The _Figaro_ -devoted an article to a review of the various characters played by the -English actor, and in flattering terms pointed out that, notwithstanding -all his detractors, Mr. Henry Irving was “the most perfect gentleman.” - -During the performance of ‘Faust,’ Miss Terry found the fatigue -excessive, and, not being very strong at the time, had to resign her -part. During these intervals, the character was supported by a clever -young actress, bearing an historic name, Miss Winifred Emery, who brought -much intelligence and refinement to her task. It was generally agreed -that, considering her resources, she had supplied the place of the absent -actress very well indeed. The _feu sacré_ was, of course, not to be -expected, and cannot be supplied to order. - -This appreciation of our manager-actor by the French will naturally -suggest the inquiry, What is his reputation generally in that eminently -theatrical country, whence we draw our chief supply of dramas and -dramatic ideas, and whose school of acting is perhaps the first in -Europe? So frequent have been the visits of French companies to London, -that nearly all the leading performers have had opportunities of seeing -the English actor perform. Their ignorance of the language has, of -course, stood in the way of a satisfactory judgment—they cannot follow -the play as an average Englishman will follow a French piece; but all -have been struck by his fine faculty of imparting colour and romance to -a character, and have broken into raptures over the intelligence that -directs the scene, and the lavish magnificence of the _spectacle_. - -The memorable visit of the French Comedy to London in 1879, and the -fine series of performances in which every player of note displayed -his talent, curiously coincided with the new departure on the English -stage. Few will forget the deep impressions left by that season or the -opportunities afforded for a liberal education in dramatic taste. With -the company came the _fine fleur_ of French critics, Sarcey, Claretie -(since become director of the company he had so often criticized), and -others of less note. These judges were glad to seize an opportunity, -which under other circumstances they would never have thought of -seeking, of visiting the Lyceum and witnessing the performances of the -most distinguished of English actors. I recall Sarcey at this time, a -coarsely-built man, with not very refined features, lounging night after -night into his stall, with an air of something like arrogance. He did -not relish his enforced banishment from the Boulevards, and indemnified -himself by making rather free criticisms on the French players. He was -induced to go and see some of the English performances, but with an -amusing hauteur pleaded his ignorance of the language as an excuse for -not passing any serious judgment. - -“Having weighed the matter well, I have determined to say very little -regarding English actors. I have as yet seen but a few, and those only -through the medium of a language imperfectly understood. I should be -placing myself in a ridiculous position if I had the impertinence to -touch upon matters which I am thus incompetent to deal with. I may -remark, however, that Mr. Henry Irving appeared to me a remarkable actor, -notwithstanding a wilful tendency to exaggeration. Possibly, in this -latter respect, he followed rather the taste of his audience, whom his -instinct judges, than his own deliberate choice.” - -To these brilliant and gifted strangers, however, the new manager did the -honours of his craft and extended to them a kindly hospitality. Indeed, -since that day, no distinguished artist has visited these shores without -being welcomed with rare hospitality.[41] - -The most accomplished of French comedians is Coquelin _ainé_, an -extraordinary performer, from the versatility and even classical -character of his talents. This gifted man, who never appears without -imparting intellectual enjoyment of the highest kind, seems to have -always been attracted to the English actor, though exhibiting his -feelings in an oddly mixed fashion, compounded of admiration and -hostility. Analysis of the workings of character is the most entertaining -of pastimes, and is, of course, the foundation of theatrical enjoyment; -and the public has much relished the controversies between two such -eminent personages. In 1886 Coquelin, during a supper at Mrs. Mackay’s, -was invited in a very flattering way by the Prince of Wales to play in -London under Mr. Mayer. At this time, in obedience to the very natural -“force and pressure” of gain which was beginning to dissolve the great -company of the French Comedy, he had begun to “star it,” as it is called, -in the various capitals of Europe, and having found himself appreciated -in London at private houses, as well as on the stage, he seems to have -nourished a feeling that he was contending for the suffrages of the -public with the English actor! Not that he was conscious of any actual -“jealousy,” but something of this impression was left on those who were -watching the incident. In matters of art, however, such contentions are -healthy, and pardonable enough. - -An early token of this curious feeling was offered in an article -published in _Harper’s Magazine_ in May, 1887, where the French actor -discussed with some acuteness the different systems of acting in England -and in France, particularly in the matter of what is called “natural” or -materialistic acting. He dwelt on the question how far the gifts of the -comedian will enable him to exhibit tragic characters, contending that -the practice of minute observation would materially aid him. - -What was in Coquelin’s thoughts all this time would appear to have been -a sort of eagerness to measure himself with the English actor in ‘Le -Juif Polonais,’ which he looked upon as his own, and which had made a -reputation for Irving. With some lack of taste or tact, Coquelin later -challenged an English audience to decide between the two readings of -Mathias. He performed it, I think, on two different occasions. It was an -interesting and instructive experiment, for it proved that two artists -of eminence might legitimately take directly opposite views of the same -character. But does not character in real life offer the same varieties -of interpretation? Coquelin presented a sort of comfortable _bourgeois_, -a tradesman-like personage, who was not likely to reach the heroic or -melodramatic place. He was not over-sensitive, nor was his remorse very -poignant; and the keynote to his agitation was the desire to be thought -respectable, to keep his position, and not be found out. It was agreed -that the two conceptions were altogether opposed. “Irving’s hero was a -grave, dignified, and melancholy being; Coquelin’s was a stout Alsatian, -well-to-do, respected by his neighbours, but still on an equality -with the humble folk around him. Irving’s was a conscience-stricken -personage; Coquelin’s had no conscience at all. Irving’s was all remorse; -Coquelin was not in the least disturbed. He takes delight in his ill-got -treasures. The only side on which he is assailable is that of his fears, -and the arrival of the second Jew, so like the first, terrifies him; and -too much wine on the night of the wedding brings on the disturbed dream.” -The question might be thus summarized: Irving’s reading was that of a -tragedian; Coquelin’s that of a comedian. For myself, I confess a liking -for both. - -A friendly and even enthusiastic appreciation of the actor was furnished -by Jules Claretie, then a critic of eminence. “His reputation,” he said, -“would be even greater than it is if he had the leisure to extend his -studies and correct his faults; but, as Mr. Walter Pollock remarks, a man -who has to play six or seven times a week can hardly be expected to find -much time for study. England, unlike France, does not possess a national -theatre. - -“‘Richelieu’ was the first play in which I saw Mr. Irving in London. -Here he is superb. The performance amounts to a resurrection. The great -Cardinal, lean, worn, eaten up with ambition, less for himself than for -France, is admirably rendered. His gait is jerky, like that of a man -shaken by fever; his eye has the depth of a visionary’s; a hoarse cough -preys upon that feeble frame. When Richelieu appears in the midst of the -courtiers, when he flings his scorn in the face of the mediocrity that -is to succeed him, when he supplicates and adjures the vacillating Louis -XIII., Mr. Irving endows that fine figure with a striking majesty. - -“What a profound artist this tragedian is! The performance over, I -was taken to see him in his dressing-room. I found him surrounded by -portraits of Richelieu. He had before him the three studies of Philippe -de Champaigne, one representing Richelieu in full face, and the others in -profile. There was also a photograph of the same painter’s full-length -portrait of the Cardinal. Before playing Louis XI. again, Mr. Irving -studied Commines, Victor Hugo, Walter Scott, and all who have written -of the _bourgeois_ and avaricious king, who wore out the elbows of his -_pourpoint de ratine_ on the tables of his gossips, the skin-dressers -and shoemakers. The actor is an adept in the art of face-painting, and -attaches great importance to the slightest details of his costume. - -“I asked him what other historical personage he would like to represent, -what face he, who excelled in what I call stage-resurrection, would wish -to revive. He reflected a moment, his countenance assuming a thoughtful -expression. ‘Français ou Anglais?’ he at length asked. ‘Français ou -Anglais: peu importe,’ I replied. ‘Eh bien!’ he said, after another short -pause, ‘je serais heureux de créer un Camille Desmoulins.’ - -“Mr. Irving’s literary and subtle mind leans to psychological plays—plays -which, if I may so express myself, are more tragic than dramatic. He -is the true Shakespearian actor. How great was the pleasure which the -performance of ‘Hamlet’ afforded me! For a literary man it is a source of -real enjoyment. Mr. Irving, as manager of the Lyceum, spends more than -£3,000 a month to do things on an adequate scale. His theatre is the -first in London. He would like to make it a sort of Comédie Française, as -he would like to found a sort of Conservatoire to afford young English -artists the instruction they stand so much in need of. - -“In Louis XI. Mr. Irving has been adjudged superior to Ligier. Dressed -with historical accuracy, he is admirable in the comedy element of the -piece and the chief scenes with the Monk and Nemours. The limelight -projected like a ray of the moon on his contracted face as he pleads for -his life excited nothing less than terror. The hands, lean and crooked as -those of a Harpagon—the fine hands whose character is changed with each -of his _rôles_—aid his words. And how striking in its realism is the last -scene, representing the struggle between the dying king and his fate!” - -Another admirable French player, Got, once the glory of the French -Comédie, and unquestionably the most powerful and varied performer of his -day, used to come a good deal to London between the years 1870 and 1880. - -It was a singular tribute to Irving that so great a player, in his day -greater even than Coquelin, should have been drawn from his retirement -to take up one of his characters. Got, the “Dean of the French stage,” -as Irving is “Dean” of the English theatre, by-and-by felt himself -irresistibly impelled to give his version of ‘The Bells.’ He induced a -Paris manager to draw forth the long-forgotten piece from its obscurity, -and presented Mathias very much on the _bourgeois_ lines of Coquelin. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -1887. - -‘FAUST’—‘WERNER’—‘MACAIRE’—THE ACTOR’S SOCIAL GIFTS. - - -He was now preparing for his third American tour, the object of which -was to introduce to the audiences of the United States his splendid -spectacular piece, ‘Faust.’ This had excited much interest and -expectation, and its attractions were even magnified by distance. It -was the “last word” in scenic display. The Americans have now become -a section, as it were, of the Lyceum audiences, and it would seem to -be inevitable that at fixed intervals, and when a series of striking -plays have been given in England, the manager should feel a sort of -irresistible pressure to present the same attractions on the other side -of the Atlantic. This expedition took place in October, 1887, and was -crowned with all success. Henceforth the periodical visit to America will -become a necessity; and a new visit was already planned in concert with -Mr. Abbey, which was fixed for 1893. - -On the return of the company, after their United States triumphs, ‘Faust’ -was revived for a short period. At the close of the first performance the -manager announced his plans, which were awaited with some curiosity. “The -devil,” he said, “had been to and fro on the face of the earth.” After -a month of ‘Faust,’ he proposed to give Mr. Calmour’s ‘Amber Heart,’ to -bring forward Miss Terry, while he himself was to conclude the evening -with a revival of ‘Robert Macaire.’ - -On July 1, 1887, the manager of the Lyceum performed one of those many -kindly, graceful acts with which his name is connected—an act done at -the right moment, and for the suitable person. He gave his theatre to -benefit a veteran dramatist, Dr. Westland Marston, who in his day had -been associated with the classical glories of the stage, and had written -the interesting ‘Wife’s Secret’ for Charles Kean. As he now told the -audience from the stage, fifty years had elapsed since he had written his -first piece for Macready. The committee formed was a most influential -one, and comprised the names of such eminent _littérateurs_ as Browning, -Alfred Austin, E. W. Gosse, William Black, Wilkie Collins, Gilbert, -Swinburne, Tennyson, and many more. The performance was an afternoon -one, and the play selected was Byron’s ‘Werner,’ written “up to date,” -as it is called, by Frank Marshall. New scenery and dresses had been -provided, though the actor did not propose giving another representation. -He, however, intended to perform it on his approaching American tour. It -must be said that the play gave little satisfaction, and was about as -lugubrious as ‘The Stranger,’ some of the acts, moreover, being played in -almost Cimmerian gloom. What inclined the manager to this choice it would -be difficult to say. He has rather a _penchant_ for these morosely gloomy -men, who stalk about the stage and deliver long and remorseful reviews -and retrospects of their lives. The audience, however, sympathizes, and -listens with respectful attention. - -‘Werner’ was to illustrate once more the conscientious and laborious care -of the manager in the production of his pieces. He engaged Mr. Seymour -Lucas to furnish designs for the dresses, who drew his inspirations -from an old volume of etchings of one “Stefano della Bella” in 1630. So -patiently _difficile_ is our manager in satisfying himself, that it is -said the dresses in ‘Faust’ were made and re-made three times before they -were found satisfactory. In this case all the arms of antique pattern, -the dresses, quaint head-dresses, and the like, even down to the peculiar -buttons of the period, were made especially in Paris under Auguste’s -superintendence. - -‘Robert Macaire,’ that strange, almost weird-like drama, was familiar -enough to Irving, who had occasionally played it in the early part -of his course, and also at the St. James’s Theatre in 1867. For all -performers of genius who have taste for the mere _diablerie_ of acting, -and the eccentric mixture of tragic and comic, this character offers an -attraction, if not a fascination. We can feel its power ourselves as we -call up the grotesque figure; nay, even those who have never seen the -piece can have an understanding of the character, as a coherent piece -of grotesque. There is something of genius in the contrasted and yet -intimate union between the eccentric pair. In June, 1883, there had been -a performance at the Lyceum for the Royal College of Music, when Irving -had played the character, assisted by “friend Toole,” Bancroft, Terriss, -and Miss Terry—certainly a strong cast. Toole, on this occasion, was -almost too irrepressible, and rather distorted the proportion of the -two characters, encroaching on the delicate details in the part of his -friend, and overflowing with the pantomimic humours, or “gags,” which -are the traditions of Jacques Strop. When the piece was formally brought -out, the part was allotted to Mr. Weedon Grossmith, who was in the other -extreme, and too subordinate. - -The play was produced in July, 1888, and was found not so attractive as -was anticipated. It seemed as though it were not wholly intelligible -to the audience. There were some reasons for this, the chief being the -gruesome assassination at “the roadside inn,” which is old-fashioned, -being literally “played out.” More curious was it to find that the -quaint type of Macaire seemed to convey nothing very distinct. All -accepted it as an incoherent extravagance: which opens an interesting -speculation—viz., How many such parts are there which have been the -characters of the original actors, and not the author’s—the former’s -creation, in short? Lemaître’s extraordinary success was, as is well -known, the result of a happy inspiration conceived during the progress -of the piece. From being a serious or tragic character, he turned it -into a grotesque one. There may have been here something founded on the -sort of _gaminerie_ that seems to go with crime; or it may have been -recklessness, which, together with a ludicrous attempt at a squalid -dandyism, showed a mind not only depraved, but dulled and _embêté_. This -sort of inspiration, where an actor sees his own conception in the part -and makes it his own, is illustrated by ‘The Bells,’ which—in the hands -of another actor—might have been played according to conventional laws. - -An English actor who would have succeeded in the part was the elder -Robson. In Irving’s case, the audience were not in key, or in tune; the -thing seemed _passé_, though our actor had all the traditions of the -part, even to the curiously “creaking snuff-box.”[42] - -Among Wills’s friends, admirers, and associates—of which his affectionate -disposition always brought him a following—was Calmour, the author of -some pieces full of graceful poetry of the antique model. Like Mr. -Pinero, he “knew the boards,” having “served” in the ranks, an essential -advantage for all who would write plays; had written several slight -pieces of a poetical cast, notably ‘Cupid’s Messenger,’ in which the -graceful and piquant Mary Rorke had obtained much success in a “trunk and -hose” character. But a play of a more ambitious kind, ‘The Amber Heart,’ -had taken Miss Terry’s fancy; she, as we have said, had “created” the -heroine at a _matinée_. It proved to be a sort of dreamy Tennysonian -poem, and was received with considerable favour. - -‘The Amber Heart,’ now placed in the bill with ‘Robert Macaire,’ was -revived with the accustomed Lyceum state and liberality. To Alexander was -allotted the hero’s part, and he declaimed the harmonious lines with good -effect. I fancy the piece was found of rather too delicate a structure -for such large and imposing surroundings.[43] - -Whenever there is some graceful act, a memorial to a poet or player to be -inaugurated, it is pretty certain that our actor-manager will be called -on to take the leading and most distinguished share in the ceremonial. -At the public meeting, or public dinner, he can deport himself with much -effect. - -There are plenty of persons of culture who have been deputed to perform -such duties; but we feel there is often something artificial in their -methods and speeches. In the case of the actor, we feel there is a -something genuine; he supplies a life to the dry bones, and we depart -knowing that he has added grace to our recollections of the scene. -Nor does be add an exaggeration to what he says; there is a happy -judicious reserve. This was felt especially on the occasion of one -pleasant festival day in the September of 1891, when a memorial was -unveiled to Marlowe, the dramatist, in the good old town of Canterbury. -It was an enjoyable expedition, with something simple and rustic in the -whole, while to anyone of poetical tastes there was something unusually -harmonious in the combination offered of the antique town, the memory -of “Dr. Faustus,” the old Cathedral, and the beaming presence of the -cultured artist, of whom no one thought as manager of a theatre. A crowd -of critics and authors came from town by an early train, invited by the -hospitable Mayor. At any season the old town is inviting enough, but now -it was pleasant to march through its narrow streets, under the shadow of -its framed houses, to the small corner close to the Christ Church gate -of the Cathedral, where the speeching and ceremonials were discharged. -The excellent natives seemed perhaps a little puzzled by the new-found -glories of their townsman; they were, however, glad to see the well-known -actor. Equally pleasant, too, was it to make our way to the old Fountain -Inn, where the “worthy” Mayor entertained his guests, and where there -were more speeches. The image of the sleepy old town, and the grand -Cathedral, and of the pretty little fountain—which, however, had but -little suggestion of the colossal Marlowe—and the general holiday tone -still lingers in the memory. Irving’s speech was very happy, and for its -length is singularly suggestive. - -It was in October, 1887, that a memorial was set up at Stratford, a -clock-tower and fountain, in memory of Shakespeare. It was the gift of -the wealthy Mr. Childs, of New York, who has been hitherto eager to -associate his name, in painted windows and other ways, with distinguished -Englishmen of bygone times. It may be suspected that Childs’s name will -not be so inseparably linked with celebrated personages as he fondly -imagined. There is a sort of incongruity in this association of a casual -stranger with an English poet. - - * * * * * - -Many a delightful night have his friends owed to the thoughtful kindness -and hospitality of their interesting host. Such is, indeed, one of the -privileges of being his friend. The stage brings with it abundance of -pleasant associations; but there are a number of specially agreeable -memories bound up with the Lyceum. Few will forget the visit of the -Duke of Meiningen’s company of players to this country, which forms -a landmark of extraordinary importance in the history of our modern -stage. With it came Barnay, that accomplished and romantic actor; and a -wonderful instinct of disciplining crowds, and making them express the -passions of the moment, as in Shakespeare’s ‘Julius Cæsar.’ The skilful -German stage-managers did not import their crowds, but were able to -inspire ordinary bands of supernumeraries with the dramatic feelings and -expression that they wanted. - -I recall one pleasant Sunday evening at the close of a summer’s day, -when Irving invited his friends to meet the German performers at the -Lyceum. The stage had been picturesquely enclosed and fashioned into -a banqueting-room, the tables spread; the orchestra performed in the -shadowy pit. It was an enjoyable night. There was a strange mingling -of languages—German, French, English. There were speeches in these -tongues, and at one moment Palgrave Simpson was addressing the company in -impetuous fashion, passing from English to French, from French to German, -with extraordinary fluency. Later in the evening there was an adjournment -to the Beef-steak rooms, where the accomplished Barnay found himself at -the piano, to be succeeded by the versatile Beatty-Kingston, himself half -German. There were abundant “Hochs” and pledging. Not until the furthest -of the small hours did we separate, indebted to our kindly, unaffected -host for yet one more delightful evening. - -The manager once furnished a pleasantly piquant afternoon’s amusement -for his friends on the stage of his handsome theatre. Among those who -have done service to the stage is Mr. Walter Pollock, lately editor -of the _Saturday Review_, who, among his other accomplishments, is a -swordsman of no mean skill. He has friends with the same tastes, with -whom he practises this elegant art, such as Mr. Egerton Castle, Captain -Hutton, and others. It is not generally known that there is a club known -as the Kerneuzers, whose members are _amateurs enragés_ for armour and -swordsmanship, many of whom have fine collections of helmets, hauberks, -and blades of right Damascene and Toledo.[44] - -Mr. Egerton Castle and others of his friends have written costly and -elaborate works on fencing, arms, and the practice of _armes blanches_, -and at their meetings hold exciting combats with dirk and foil. It was -suggested that Mr. Castle should give a lecture on this subject, with -practical illustrations; and the manager, himself a fencer, invited a -number of friends and amateurs to witness the performance, which took -place on February 25, 1891. This lecture was entitled “The Story of -Swordsmanship,” especially in connection with the rise and decline of -duelling. And accordingly there was witnessed a series of combats, -mediæval, Italian, and others, back-sword, small-sword, sword and cloak, -and the rest. Later the performance was repeated at the instance of the -Prince of Wales. - -Irving has often contributed his share to “benefits” for his distressed -brethren, as they are often called. In the days when he was a simple -actor he took his part like the rest; when he became manager he would -handsomely lend his theatre, and actually “get up” the whole as though -it were one of his own pieces. This is the liberal, _grand_ style of -conferring a favour. Miss Ellen Terry “takes her benefit” each year. - -In June, 1876, a performance was arranged at the Haymarket for a benefit, -when the ever-blooming ‘School for Scandal’ was performed by Phelps, -Miss Neilson, “Ben” Webster, Irving, Bancroft, and others. Irving was -the Joseph Surface, a performance which excited much anticipation and -curiosity. Some time after he performed the same character at Drury Lane. -It might naturally have been thought that the part would have exactly -suited him, but whether from novelty or restlessness, there was a rather -artificial tone about the performance. But what actor can be expected to -play every character, and to find every character suited to him? Joseph -we hold to be one of the most difficult in the whole _répertoire_ to -interpret. At the Belford benefit—and Belford and his services to the -stage, such as they were, are long since forgotten—the all but enormous -sum of £1,000 was received! For schools, charities, convents even, and -philanthropic work of all kinds, some contribution from Henry Irving in -the shape of a recitation or scene may be looked for. - -Irving s vein of pleasantry is ever welcome as it is unpretentious. I -have heard him at the General Theatrical Fund dinner give the toast of -“The Army, Navy, and Reserve Forces,” when he said, “There is an Artists’ -Corps—I am curious to know why there should not be an Actors’ Corps. -_We are accustomed to handle weapons._” On this occasion “friend Toole” -had to leave on duty; “whose fine Roman visage,” said his friend, “has -beamed on us during dinner—he has been obliged to go away, fortified, I -hope, for his arduous labours, but he will return—I know him well—and he -will too, I am sure, with a most excellent donation.” He can tell a story -or relish a humorous situation with equal effect. In company with Toole, -he has often contrived a droll situation or comic adventure.[45] - -At one period, when he was oppressed with hard work, it was suggested -to him that sleeping in the country would be a great restorative after -his labours. He much fancied an old house and grounds at Hammersmith, -known as “The Grange”; and having purchased it, he laid out a good deal -of money in improving and restoring it It had nice old gardens, with -summer-house, a good staircase, and some old panelled rooms. - -To a man with such social tastes, the journey down and the night spent -there must have been banishment, or perhaps was found too troublesome. -Literary men, artists, and the like do not much relish these tranquil -pleasures, though practical men of business do. I am certain most will -agree that they leave Fleet Street and the Strand with reluctance and -return to it with pleasure. After a few years he was anxious to be rid of -what was only a useless toy, and it was offered for sale for, I think, -£4,000.[46] - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -1888. - -‘MACBETH’—‘THE DEAD HEART’—‘RAVENSWOOD.’ - - -The approach of the opening night of ‘Macbeth’ caused more excitement -than perhaps any of the Lyceum productions. There was a sort of fever of -expectancy; it was known that everything in the way of novelty—striking -and sumptuous dress and scenery, elaborate thought and study, and -money had been expended in almost reckless fashion. There were legends -afloat as to Miss Terry’s marvellous “beetle-green” dress, and the -copper-coloured tresses which were to hang down on her shoulders.[47] The -scenery was to be vast, solid, and monumental. It was no surprise when it -was learned that before the day of performance some £2,000 had been paid -for seats at the box-office. - -While allowing due praise to the accomplishments and sagacity of our -dramatic critics, I confess to looking with some distrust and alarm -at a sort of “new criticism” which, like the so-called “new humour,” -has developed in these latter days. This amounts to the assumption of -an aggressive personality—there is a constant manifestation, not of -the play or performers criticised, but of the writer’s own thoughts -and opinions. It seems to be the fashion for a critic to devote his -article to Mr. ——, an opposing critic, as though the public attached any -importance to the opinions these gentlemen held of each other. The vanity -thus unconsciously displayed is often ludicrous enough. The instances, -however, are fortunately rare. - -Produced on December 29, the play caused considerable excitement -among Shakespearian students and “constant readers”; and Miss Terry’s -reading—or rather the appearance of Miss Terry in the part—produced much -vehement controversy. We had “The Real Macbeth” in the _Daily Telegraph_, -with the usual “old playgoers” who had seen Mrs. Charles Kean. I fancy -there were but three or four persons who were able to compare the -performance of Miss Terry with that of Mrs. Siddons—about sixty years -before.[48] - -Banquo’s ghost has always been a difficulty in every presentation of the -play; all the modern apparitions and phantasmagorian effects neutralize -or destroy themselves. The powerful light behind exhibits the figure -through the gauzes, but to procure this effect the lights in front must -be lowered or darkened. This gives notice in clumsy fashion of what is -coming, and prepares us for the ghost. - -“New and original” readings rarely seem acceptable, and, indeed, are -scarcely ever welcomed by the public, who have their old favourite lines -to which they are well accustomed. We never hear one of these novelties -without an effect being left as of something “purely fantastical,” as -Elia has it, and invariably they seem unacceptable and forced, producing -surprise rather than pleasure. Irving rarely introduces these changes. A -curious one in ‘Macbeth’ was the alteration of a line— - - “She should have died hereafter,” - -into - - “She would have died hereafter.” - -That is a sort of careless dismissal of his wife’s death, as something -that must have occurred, according to the common lot. - -The irresolution and generally dejected tone of the Scottish King, as -presented by the actor, was much criticised, and severely too. There -was something “craven,” it was said, in this constant faltering and -shrinking. This, however, was the actor’s conscientious “reading” of -the part: he was not bound by the Kemble or Macready traditions, but -irresistibly impelled to adopt the highly-coloured “romantic” view of our -day. He made it interesting and picturesque, and, in parts, forcible. -Miss Terry’s Lady Macbeth filled everyone with wonder and admiration; as -in the case of her Queen Katherine, it seemed a miracle of energy and -dramatic inspiration triumphing over physical difficulties and habitual -associations. The task was herculean, and even those who objected could -not restrain their admiration.[49] - -The pictures set forth in this wonderful representation linger in the -memory. The gloomy Scottish scenes, the castles and their halls, the fine -spreading landscapes, the treatment of the witches, and Banquo’s ghost, -were all but perfect in tone, and had a judicious reserve. There was -nothing overlaid or overdone. How admirably and exactly, for instance, -did the scene correspond to the beautiful lines: - - “This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air - Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself.” - -There painting and poetry went together! The banqueting-hall, the -arrangement of the tables, at right angles with the audience, had a -strange, barbaric effect, the guests being disposed in the most natural -fashion. - -After the run of ‘Macbeth’ had ceased, the manager proceeded to carry out -a plan which had long been in his thoughts, and which many had suggested -to him. This was to give “readings,” in conjunction with Miss Terry, -of some of his plays. This would offer some respite from the enormous -outlay entailed by producing these great pieces at his theatre. One -could fancy that nothing could be more attractive than such “readings,” -the interest in the personality of the two great performers being so -generally diffused. He re-arranged “Macbeth” for this purpose, and set -off on a tour in the provinces. But though everywhere well received, -I think the plan did not command the full success that was expected. -There was a defect somehow in the plan: two characters seemed to rob the -performance of that _unity_ which is the charm of a reading. Further, -it was illustrated by the fine music, with orchestra, etc., and this -again disturbed the natural simplicity of a reading. The actor’s own -vividly-coloured imagination and tastes could not, in fact, be content -with the bald and _triste_ mechanisms of the ordinary reader: he tried -to impart what ornamentation he could. The experiment was not, however, -carried out very long.[50] - -Some thirty years before, in the old Adelphi days, when “Ben” Webster -was ruling, a drama was produced, the work of a hard-working, drudging -dramatist, Watts Phillips. It was a pure melodrama, and people had not -yet lost their faith in the old devices. There was an honest belief -that villainy would be punished ere the end came. By the laws of such -pieces, the most painful situations were always contrasted with scenes -of broadest farce, which were supposed to relieve the excited feelings. I -well recall these humours. On the revival, however, all this was softened -away or abolished, and, I fancy, with some injury to the constitution of -the old piece. - -The production of ‘The Dead Heart’ furnished one more instance of the -tact and abilities which have secured the manager of the Lyceum his high -position. Here was a piece of an old-fashioned kind, which, had it been -“revived” at an ordinary theatre, would have been found not only flat and -stale, but unprofitable for all concerned. Our manager, seeing that it -had dramatic life and situations, brought the whole into harmony with the -times, and, by the skilful _remaniement_ of Mr. Walter Pollock, imparted -to it a romantic grace. It is admitted that he himself has rarely been -fitted with a part so suited to his genius and capacities, or in which he -has roused the sympathies of his audience more thoroughly. It is only the -romantic actor that understands what might be called the _key_ of a play. - -In this picturesque part of Robert Landry were exhibited no fewer than -four contrasted phases of character: the gay, hopeful young artist; the -terribly metamorphosed prisoner of nearly twenty years; the recently -delivered man, newly restored to the enjoyment of life; and, lastly, -the grim revolutionary chief, full of his stem purpose of vengeance. -This offered an opening for the display of versatile gifts, which were -certainly brought out in the most striking contrast. But it was in the -later scenes of the play, when he appears as the revolutionary chief, -that our “manager-actor” exhibited all his resources. Nothing was more -artistic than the sense of restraint and reserve here shown, which is -founded on human nature. A person who has thus suffered, and with so -stem a purpose in view, will be disdainful of speech, and oppressed, as -it were, with his terrible design. Quiet, condensed purpose, without any -“fiendish” emphasis, was never better suggested. Even when the drop-scene -is raised, and he is revealed standing by his table, there is the same -morose unrelenting air, with an impression that here was one who had just -passed through the fire, and had been executing an act of vengeance which -had left its mark. - -In a drama like ‘The Dead Heart,’ music forms a fitting accompaniment -furnishing colour and appropriate illustration. It is almost -uninterrupted from beginning to end. M. Jacobi of the Alhambra furnished -some effective, richly-coloured strains to ‘The Dead Heart,’ alternately -gay and lugubrious. More, however, might have been made of the stirring -‘Marseillaise,’ which could have been treated in various disguises -and patterns as a sort of _Leitmotiv_, much as Litolf has done in his -symphonic work on the same subject. - -A Scotch play—an adaptation of ‘The Bride of Lammermoor’—was now prepared -by Mr. Herman Merivale, a dramatist of much poetical feeling, but whose -course was marked by piteous and disastrous incidents. Buoyed up by the -encouragement and admiration of his friends, and of kindly critics who -found merit in all he did, he struggled on in spite of miserable health -and a too highly-strung nervous temperament. His work showed refinement -and elegance, but it was more for the reader than the playgoer. A gleam -of prosperity, however, came when Mr. Toole began to figure in the -writers grotesque pieces, ‘The Don,’ and others—to which, indeed, the -author’s wife had contributed some share. - -The new piece, which was called ‘Ravenswood,’ had lain long in the -manager’s cabinet, where at this moment repose a number of other MSS., -“commanded” and already purchased, from the pens of Wills, Frank -Marshall, and others. The latter had fashioned Robert Emmett into a -picturesque figure, the figure and bearing of the manager having no doubt -much that suggested the Irish patriot; but the troubled period of Land -Leagues and agrarian violence set in at the time of its acceptance with -an awkward _à propos_.[51] - -There is a character, indeed, in which, as the tradition runs, he -formerly made almost as deep an impression as in ‘The Bells.’ This was -Bill Sikes, and we can conceive what a savagery he would have imparted to -it. It would seem to be exactly suited to his powers and to his special -style; though of course here there would be a suggestion of Dubosc. With -Miss Terry as Nancy here would be opened a realm of squalid melodrama, -and “Raquin-like” horrors. - -There are other effective pieces which seem to invite the performance of -this accomplished pair. Such, for instance, is the pathetic, heartrending -‘Venice Preserved.’ Though there might be a temptation here for the -scenic artist—since Venice, and its costumes, etc, would stifle the -simple pathos of the drama. ‘The Taming of the Shrew’ has been often -suggested and often thought of, but it has been effectively done at this -theatre by another company. ‘The Jealous Wife’—Mr. and Mrs. Oakley—would -also suit well. There is ‘The Winter’s Tale,’ and finally ‘Three Weeks -after Marriage’—one of the most diverting pieces of farcical comedy that -can be conceived. - -‘Ravenswood’ was produced on September 20, 1890. While its scenes were -being unfolded before us one could not but feel the general weakness -of the literary structure, which was unequal to the rich and costly -setting; neither did it correspond to the broad and limpid texture of -the original story. It was unfortunately cast, as I venture to think. -Mackintosh, who performed Caleb, was somewhat artificial; while Ashton -père and his lady, rendered by Bishop and Miss Le Thière, could hardly -be taken _au sérieux_. Irving infused a deep and gloomy pathos into his -part, and Miss Terry was, as ever, interesting, touching, and charming. -But the characters, as was the story, were little more than thinly -outlined. The scenes, however, unfolded themselves with fine spectacular -effect; nothing could be more impressive than the scene of the first -act—a mountain gorge where Ravenswood has come for the entombment of his -father, and is interrupted by the arrival of his enemy, Ashton. Beside -it the Merivale version appeared bald enough. The weird-like last scene, -the “Kelpie Sands,” with the cloak lying on the place of disappearance, -the retainer gazing in despair, was one of Irving’s finely poetical -conceptions, but it was more spectacular than dramatic. The truth is, -where there is so fine a theatre, and where all arts are supplied to set -off a piece in sumptuous style, these elements require substantial stuff -to support them, otherwise the effect becomes trivial in exact proportion -to the adornment. - -Irving has been often challenged for not drawing on the talent of native -dramatists, and for not bringing forward “new and original” pieces. -The truth is, at this moment we may look round and seek in vain for a -writer capable of supplying a piece large and forcible enough in plot and -character to suit the Lyceum. We have Pinero and Henry Arthur Jones, but -they are writers of comedies and problem-dramas. Wills, in spite of his -faults, had genuine faith in the old methods. He was of the school of -Westland Marston. In this dearth of talent, it might be well for Irving -to give a commission to a French dramatist to work on whatever subject he -fancied, and have the piece adapted. - -It was at the Christmas season of 1891 that the manager was enabled -to carry out a plan that had for years been before him—a revival of -‘Henry VIII.’ We can quite conceive how, as the fashion always was with -him, the play ripened as it were with meditation; how, as he walked or -followed the consoling fumes of his cigar in his chamber at Grafton -Street, each scene fell into shape or suggested some new and effective -arrangement, which again might be discarded as difficulties arose, or -as something happier occurred to him. The result of these meditations -was unquestionably a “large” and splendid setting of the play, which, -to my mind, whatever be the value of the opinion, is certainly one of -the finest, most finished, most poetical, and sufficient of the many -works that he has set before us.[52] There was a greater Shakespearian -propriety, and the adornments, however lavish, might all be fairly -justified. Most to be admired was the supreme elegance of touch found in -every direction—acting, scenery, dresses, music, all reflected the one -cultivated mind. The truth is, long practice and the due measuring of his -own exertion have now supplied an ease and boldness in his effects. To -appreciate this excellence we have only to turn to similar attempts made -by others, whether managers, or manager-actors, or manager-authors—and -we find only the conventional exertion of the scene-painter and -stage-manager. They have not the same inspiration. - -This play, produced on January 5, 1892, was received with great -enthusiasm. It became “a common form” of criticism to repeat that it was -of doubtful authorship; that it was nothing but a number of scenes strung -together; that there was no story; that Buckingham vanished almost at the -beginning of the play; and that towards the end, Wolsey vanished also. -These, as I venture to say, are but ignorant objections; characters will -always supply a dramatic story, or a dramatic interest that amounts to a -story, and in the fate of Wolsey and of Katherine, gradually developed -and worked out, we had surely a story sufficiently interesting. - -I have little doubt that Irving kept steadily in view the object the -great author had before him, viz., to present a page of history enriched -by all the suitable accompaniments of dress and manners and customs. In -this he was perfectly and triumphantly successful. We were taken into -the great chambers, and tribunals; shown the ecclesiastical pomp and -state, so difficult to conceive now; the processions passing through -the streets, and presented in an exceedingly natural and unconventional -fashion.[53] The drama was set forth fully, with every adjunct of dress, -furniture, scenes, and numbers of auxiliaries. - -The scenery, offering wonderful perspectives of Tudor halls and -interiors, the arrangements of the courts and various meetings, were -original and very striking. Yet here I should be inclined to suggest -anew the objections often made to the modern system of large groupings -compressed into the small area of a stage, which, as it seems, is -opposed to the canons of scenic art.[54] These, too, seemed to acquire -new force from the arrangement of the “Trial scene,” as it was called, -which displayed a great hall with the daïs, seats for the Cardinal, the -King, etc. The result of thus supplying a great area by the system of -compression (I am speaking merely of the principle), is that the leading -figures become dwindled in scale and overpowered by the surrounding -crowd. The contrast with the older system is brought out by Harlow’s -well-known picture, where only the leading figures are grouped, and where -by consequence they stand out in greater relief. The spectator stands, as -it were, close beside them; but by the modern arrangement he appears to -be afar off, at the bottom of the hall, obtaining but a distant view of -them.[55] - -When we consider what are the traditions of the two great characters, how -vivid they are, from the deep impressions left by the great brother and -sister on their contemporaries—an impression which has really extended -to our time—too much praise could hardly be given to the performance -of Irving and his gifted companion. Irving’s Wolsey was exactly what -those familiar with his other impersonations could anticipate—poetical, -elegant, and in many portions powerful. He was the churchman to -perfection, carrying his robes admirably; in the face there was a -suggestion of the late departed Cardinal Manning. All through the piece -there was that picturesque acting which fills the eye, not the ear, at -the moment when speech is at rest. It is thus that are confuted those -theorists, including Elia, who hold that Shakespeare is to be read, not -acted. - -It is perhaps the power of suggestion and of stirring our imagination -that brings about this air of fulness and richness. Irving, when he -was not speaking, _acted_ the pomp and state and consummately depicted -the smoothness of the Cardinal. When he was lost to view you felt -the application of the oft-quoted line touching the absence of “the -well-grac’d” actor from the scene, and it was wonderful to think, as we -glanced round the brilliant _salle_—glittering with its vast crowd of -well-dressed, even jewelled, women (“Quite an opera pit!” as Ellison -would say)—to the fine stage before us, with its showy figures, pictures, -and pageants, that all this was _his_ work and of his creation! - -There were many diverse criticisms on Irving’s conception of this famous -character; some held that it was scarcely “large,” rude, or overbearing -enough. His view, however, as carried out, seemed natural and consistent. -The actor wished to exhibit the character as completely overwhelmed by -adverse fortune; witness Macbeth, Othello, and many other characters. In -the last great soliloquy it was urged there was a want of variety. Still, -allowing for all traditional defects, it stands beyond contradiction that -it was a “romantic” performance, marked by “distinction,” and a fine -grace; and we might vainly look around for any performer of our time -who could impart so poetical a cast to the character. And we may add a -praise which I am specially qualified to give, viz., that he was the -perfect ecclesiastic: as he sat witnessing the revels, now disturbed, now -careless—there was the Churchman revealed; he was not, as was the case -with so many others, a performer robed in clerical garb. - -Of Miss Terry’s Queen Katharine, it can be said that it was an -_astonishing_ performance, and took even her admirers by surprise. -She made the same almost gigantic effort as she did in ‘Macbeth’ to -interpret a vast character, one that might have seemed beyond her -strength, physical as well as mental. By sheer force of will and genius -she contrived to triumph. It was not, of course, the _great_ Queen -Katharine of Mrs. Siddons, nor did she awe and command all about her; -but such earnestness and reality and dramatic power did she impart to -the character that she seemed to supply the absence of greater gifts. -Her performance in the Court and other scenes of the persecuted, hunted -woman, now irritated, now resigned, was truly pathetic and realistic. -There may have been absent the overpowering, queen-like dignity, the -state and heroism, but it was impossible to resist her—it was her “way,” -and by this way she gained all hearts. It must be confessed that nothing -ever supplied such an idea of the talents and “cleverness” of this truly -brilliant woman as her victory over the tremendous difficulties of these -parts. The performance won her the sympathies of all in an extraordinary -degree. - -So admirably had our manager been penetrated with the spirit of the -scenes, that he was enabled to present them in a natural and convincing -way, and seemed to revive the whole historic time and meaning of the -situation. This was particularly shown in the scene when Buckingham is -led to execution; his address to the crowd was delivered with so natural -a fashion, with such judicious and pathetic effect, that it not only -gained admiration for the performance, but brought the scene itself -within range of every day life. For, instead of the old conventional -declamatory speech to a stage crowd, we had some “words” which the -sufferer, on entering the boat, stopped for a moment to address to -sympathizers who met him on the way. - -The music, the work of a young composer, Mr. Edward German, was truly -romantic and expressive; stately and richly-coloured. How wonderful, by -the way, is the progress made of late years in theatrical music! We have -now a group of composers who expend their talents and elegancies in the -adornment of the stage. The flowing melodies and stately marches of the -Lyceum music still linger in the ear. - -It was in January, 1892, when he was performing in ‘Henry VIII.,’ that a -very alarming piece of news, much magnified by report, reached him. His -son Laurence was playing at Belfast in the Benson Company, and had by -some accident shot himself with a revolver; this casualty was exaggerated -to an extraordinary degree,—three local doctors issued bulletins; “the -lung had been pierced”—until the anxious father at last sent over an -experienced surgeon, Mr. Lawson Tait, who was able to report that the -wound was trivial, and the weapon a sort of “toy-pistol.” Much sympathy -was excited by this casualty. The manager has two sons, Henry and -Laurence, the latter named after Mr. Toole, who are now both following -their father’s profession. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -1892. - -‘KING LEAR’—‘BECKET.’ - - -After presenting so many of Shakespeare’s great dramas, it was to be -expected that the manager could not well pass by what has been justly -styled the Titanic play of ‘King Lear.’ This had, indeed, always been -in his thoughts; but he naturally shrank from the tremendous burden -it entailed. It was prepared in his usual sumptuous style. There were -sixteen changes of scene and twenty-two characters, and the music was -furnished by Hamilton Clarke. The scenery was divided between Craven and -Harker, the latter a very effective artist of the same school. There -were some beautiful romantic effects: the halls, the heath, and notably -the Dover scenes, were exquisite. I doubt if their presentation has been -excelled by any preceding attempts. The barbaric tone and atmosphere -of the piece was conveyed to perfection, without being insisted on or -emphasized. It is only when we compare the ambitious attempts of other -managers who would indulge in effects equally lavish and sumptuous, -that we recognise the ability, ease, reserve, and force of the Lyceum -manager.[56] They, too, will have their “archæology” and their built-up -temples, designed by painters of repute, and crowds; but there is present -only the sense of stage effect and the flavour of the supernumerary. -The secret is the perfect subordination of such details to the general -effect. They should be, like the figures on a tapestry, indistinct, but -effective as a background. Charles Lamb’s well-worn dictum, that ‘Lear’ -should never be acted, was trotted forth in every criticism. There -is some truth in this exaggerated judgment, because it can never be -_adequately_ presented, and the performance must always fall short of the -original grandeur. With his remarks on the pettiness of the stage-storm, -one would be inclined to agree, even on this occasion, when every art was -exhausted to convey the notion of the turmoil of the elements. The truth -is, an audience sitting in the stalls and boxes will never be seduced -into accepting the rollings and crashings of cannon-balls aloft, and the -flashing of lycopodium, as suggesting the awful warring of the elements. - -‘Lear’ was brought forward on Thursday, November 10, 1892, and its -presentation was a truly romantic one. The figure had little of the -usual repulsive aspects of age—the clumsy white beard, etc.—but was -picturesque. The entry into his barbaric court, the strange retainers -with their head-dresses of cows’ horns, was striking and original. The -whole conception was human. The “curse” was delivered naturally. In -presenting, however, the senile ravings of the old monarch, the actor -unavoidably assumed an indistinctness of utterance, and many sentences -were lost. This imperfection was dwelt on in the criticisms with -superfluous iteration, and though the actor speedily amended and became -almost emphatically distinct, this notion seemed to have settled in the -public mind, with some prejudice to the success of the piece. Though -he was thus quick to remedy this blemish, distinctness was secured by -deliberation, and at some loss of effect. The actor’s extraordinary -exertions—for he was at the same time busy with the preparation of a new -piece—exhausted him, and obliged him for some nights to entrust the part -to another. But the real obstacle to full success could be found in the -general lugubrious tone of the character; the uninterrupted sequence -of horrors and distresses led to a feeling of monotony difficult for -the actor to vanquish. The public never takes very cordially to pieces -in which there is this _sustained misery_, though it can relish the -alternations of poignant tragedy attended by quick dramatic changes. -Cordelia, though a small part, was made prominent by much touching pathos -and grace, and the dying recognition by the old King brought tears to -many eyes.[57] - -An interesting feature in Irving’s career has been his long friendship -with Tennyson, poet and dramatist, which lasted for some fifteen or -sixteen years. The actor showed his appreciation of the poet’s gifts by -the rather hazardous experiment of presenting two of his poetical dramas -to the public. We have seen what sumptuous treatment was accorded to -‘The Cup’; and in ‘Queen Mary’ the actor contributed his most powerful -dramatic efforts in the realization of the grim Philip. - -The poet, however, made little allowance for the exigencies of the -stage. During the preparation of ‘The Cup,’ he contended eagerly for the -retention of long speeches and scenes, which would have shipwrecked the -piece. Yet, undramatic as most of his dramas are, a taste for them was -springing up, and not long before his death he had the gratification of -knowing that his ‘Foresters’ had met with surprising success in America. -No less than six pieces of his have been produced, and though the idea -prevails that he has been “a failure” as a dramatist, it will be found -that on the whole he has been successful. It may be that by-and-by he -will be in higher favour. But he will have owed much to Irving, not -merely for presenting his plays with every advantage, but for putting -them into fitting shape, with firm, unerring touch removing all that is -superfluous. - -So far back as the year 1879 the poet had placed in Irving’s hands a -drama on the subject of Becket and the Fair Rosamund. It was really -a _poem_ of moderate length, though in form a drama, and the actor -naturally shrank from the difficulties of dealing with such a piece. -The “pruning knife” would here have been of little avail; the axe or -“chopper” would have to be used unsparingly. The piece was accordingly -laid aside for that long period; the lamented death of the poet probably -removed the chief obstacle to its production. It is said, indeed, -that almost one-half was cut away before it could be put in shape for -performance. On Monday, February 6, 1893, the actor’s birthday, this -posthumous piece was brought out with every advantage, and before an -assemblage even more brilliant than usual. It revived the memories of -the too recent ‘Henry VIII.,’ in which there is much the same struggle -between Prince and Bishop. The actor has thus no less than three eminent -Catholic ecclesiastics in his _répertoire_—Richelieu, Wolsey, and Becket; -but, as he pleasantly said, he could contrast with these an English -clergyman, the worthy Dr. Primrose, Vicar of Wakefield. Yet he admirably -and dramatically distinguished their several characters. - -There is always a curiosity to have the curtain lifted, so that we may -have a glimpse of a play in the throes and troubles of rehearsal. Mr. -Burgin, in one of the magazines, gave a very dramatic sketch of how -things were conducted during the preparation of ‘Becket’: - -“After Mr. Irving has grouped the men on the benches, he steps back -and looks at the table. ‘We ought to have on it some kind of mace or -crozier,’ he says—‘a large crozier. Now for the “make up.” All the -barons and everyone who has a moustache must wear a small beard. All the -gentlemen who have no beards remain unshaven. All the priests and bishops -are unshaven. The mob can have slight beards, but this is unimportant. -Now, take off your hats, gentlemen, please. Some of you must be old, some -young. Hair very short;’ and he passes from group to group selecting the -different people. ‘Now, I think that is all understood pretty well. Where -are the sketches for dresses?’ - -“The sketches are brought, and he goes carefully through them. Miss -Terry and Mr. Terriss also look over the big white sheets of paper. -The fox-terrier strolls up to the group, gives a glance at them, and -walks back again to Miss Terry’s chair with a slightly cynical look. -Then Mr. Irving returns to the groups by the benches. ‘Remember, -gentlemen, you must be arguing here, laying down the law in this way,’ -suiting the action to the word. ‘Just arrange who is to argue. Don’t -do it promiscuously, but three or four of you together. Try to put a -little action into it. I want you to show your arms, and not to keep -them glued to your sides like trussed fowls. No; that isn’t half enough -action. Don’t be frightened. Better make too much noise rather than too -little, but don’t stop too suddenly. Start arguing when I ring the first -bell. As I ring the second bell, you see me enter, and stop.’ The dog -stands one bell, but the second annoys him, and he disappears from the -stage altogether, until the people on the benches have finished their -discussion. - -“Mr. Irving next tries the three-cornered stools which are placed around -the table, but prefers square ones. The dog returns, walks over to the -orchestra, looks vainly for a rat, and retreats under the table in the -centre of the stage as if things were getting really too much for him. -But his resting-place is ill-chosen, for presently half-a-dozen angry -lords jump on the table, and he is driven forth once more. After a stormy -scene with the lords, Mr. Irving walks up the steps again. ‘When I say -“I depart,” you must let me get up the steps. All this time your pent-up -anger is waiting to burst out suddenly. Don’t go to sleep over it.’ He -looks at the table in the centre of the stage, and turns to a carpenter. -‘This table will never do. It has to be jumped on by so many people that -it must be very strong. They follow me.’ (To Miss Terry) ‘They’d better -catch hold of me, up the steps here.’ - -“Miss Terry: ‘They must do something. They can’t stand holding you like -that.’ - -“Mr. Irving: ‘No.’ The door opens suddenly at top of steps, and discovers -the crowd, who shout, ‘Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord.’ - -“The doors open and the crowd shout, but the effect is not good. - -“Miss Terry: ‘It would be better if it were done at the foot of the -steps. The people needn’t show their faces as they do it, and the effect -will be so much better.’” - -‘Becket’ contained thirty characters, and was set off by fine scenery -and excellent music, written specially by Professor Stanford, this not -being the first time his notes had been associated with the poet. Never -have Irving’s efforts been greeted with such overpowering, tumultuous -applause. At the end of every act there were as many as five “recalls.” -In such pieces, as well as in some of Shakespeare’s, there is always a -matter of interesting debate in fixing the era, dresses, architecture, -etc.—a matter perhaps of less importance than is supposed. Irving’s -conception of ‘Becket’ was truly picturesque and romantic; he imported -a pathetic tone, with a sort of gloomy foreboding of the impending -martyrdom, conveyed by innumerable touches. The actor has the art of -moulding his features and expression to the complexion of the character -he is performing nightly. Thus, in ‘Becket,’ it can be seen that he had -already assumed the meditative, wary look of the aspiring ecclesiastic. - -It is evidence of the interest excited by ‘Becket,’ that a little -discussion arose between a Benedictine Father and another ecclesiastic on -the hymn, “Telluris ingens Conditor,” which was played in the cathedral -scene and through the piece. The Benedictine contended that it must have -been some older form of the hymn before the pseudo-classicalization -“of the Breviary Hymns in the sixteenth century.” “I do not suppose,” -he added, “that Mr. Irving’s well-known attention to detail extends to -such _minutiæ_ as these. The famous cathedral scene, in his presentment -of ‘Much Ado about Nothing,’ was received with a chorus of praise as a -marvel of liturgical accuracy. But I am told that to Catholic eyes at -least some of its details appeared incorrect.” Thus, to the monastery -even, does the fame of our manager’s efforts reach! - -One of the most remarkable things connected with ‘Becket’ was the -unanimous applause and approbation of the entire press.[58] Even one or -two evening papers, which had spoken with a little hesitation, returned -to the subject a few nights later to correct their judgment and to admit -that they had been hasty. All confessed that they had been captivated by -the picturesqueness of the central figure. - -Apart from his professional gifts, Irving is assuredly one of those -figures which fill the public eye, and of which there are but few. This -is owing to a sort of sympathetic attraction, and to an absence of -affectation. He plays many parts in the social scheme, and always does -so with judiciousness, contributing to the effect of the situation. -His utterances on most subjects are thoughtful and well considered, -and contribute to the enlightenment of the case. At his examination -by the London County Council, when many absurd questions were put to -him, he answered with much sagacity. His views on the employment of -children in theatres are truly sensible. More remarkable, however, are -his opinions on the science of acting, the art of management, and of -dealing with audiences and other kindred topics, which show much thought -and knowledge. He has, in truth, written a great deal, and his various -“discourses,” recently collected in a pretty little volume, do credit to -his literary style and power of expression.[59] - -Here we must pause. We have seen what our actor has done, what a change -he has worked in the condition of the stage: what an elegant education -he has furnished during all these years. And though he has been -associated with the revival of the stage, and a complete reform in all -that concerns its adornment, it will be his greatest glory that he has -presented SHAKESPEARE on a grand scale, under the sumptuous and judicious -conditions and methods that have made the poet acceptable to English -audiences of our day. - -There have been many laments over the fleeting, evanescent character of -an actor’s efforts. If his success be triumphant, it is like a dream for -those who have not seen. Description gives but the faintest idea of his -gifts. The writer, as it were, continues to write after his death, and -is read, as he was in his lifetime. But the player gone, the play is -over. The actor, it is true, if he be a personality, has another audience -outside his theatre. As I have shown in these pages, he can attract by -force of character the interest and sympathies of the general community. -Whatever he does, or wherever he appears, eyes are turned to him as they -would be to one on a stage. There is a sort of indulgent partiality in -the case of Irving. He is a dramatic figure, much as was Charles Dickens. -Eyes are idly bent on him that enters next. And this high position is not -likely to be disturbed; and though all popularity is precarious enough, -he has the art and tact to adapt his position to the shifty, capricious -changes of taste, and in the hackneyed phrase is more “up to date” than -any person of his time. The fine lines in ‘Troilus and Cressida’—the -most magnificent in Shakespeare, as they seem to me—should ring in every -actor’s ear, or indeed in that of everyone that enjoys public favour. -Alas! it must be his lot to be ever at the oar. There is no relaxing, no -repose; no coy retirement, or yielding to importunate rivalry: - - “To have done, is to hang quite out of fashion, - Like a rusty mail in monumental mockery.... - For honour travels in a strait so narrow, - Where one but goes abreast: keep, then, the path; - For emulation hath a thousand sons, - That one by one pursue: if you give way, - Or turn aside from the direct forth-right, - Like to an enter’d tide, they all rush by, - And leave you hindmost;—and there you lie - Like a gallant horse fallen in first rank, - For pavement to the abject rear, o’er-run - And trampled on; then, what they do in present, - Though less than yours in past, must o’ertop yours.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -1893. - -‘KING ARTHUR’—CORPORAL BREWSTER—HONOURS. - - -When the theatre opened for the season, ‘Faust’ was revived to fill -the time, and it drew excellent and satisfactory “houses” until the -new piece was got ready. This, it was said, was rehearsed on board the -steamer on the way home. Our actor had long before him the idea of -playing the “spotless King,” and had the late Laureate been alive he -might have been tempted to shape his great poem into a play. As it was, -the versatile Comyns Carr was intrusted with the task, and, somewhat -to the surprise of the public, he who had been art-critic, manager of -Grosvenor and New Galleries, dramatist and designer of dresses, etc., for -the Lyceum, now came forward as a poet; and a very respectable poet he -proved to be, with harmonious mellifluous lines, effective from a stage -point of view. It must be said, however, that the play is altogether a -literary one, and rather lacks dramatic movement. It is really a series -of dramatic recitations set off by beautiful shows, processions, and -scenic views. The situations, too, scarcely brought about or led up to, -are effective enough when we reach them. The piece was no doubt “written -in the theatre” under inspiration of the manager, and supplied exactly -what he wanted. The scenery was designed by Sir E. Burne Jones, who -supplied some exquisite combinations or arrangements of colour, which -were certainly new to stage-land. The music was Sir Arthur Sullivan’s, -and there was later to be the unusual and unprecedented incident of no -fewer than _three_ knights—a musician, a painter, and an actor—combining -their talents in a single play. Beautiful was the opening scene with -the blue waters and the swimming maidens imported from ‘Rheingold,’ -with the finding of the “Excalibur” contrived most skilfully. There -were grand halls and castles, and woodland groves, all exhibiting much -originality of touch, that unvarying effective grace and tact which made -the most of the materials. The characters were rather faintly outlined. -King Arthur and his queen are comparatively colourless; so is Elaine. -Mr. Forbes Robertson, who played Lancelot with picturesque power, was -early withdrawn, being bound by some other engagement. His successor, a -pleasing light comedian, lacks the weight necessary for the character. -Miss Terry was, as usual, touching and pathetic. So refined, so perfect -was the general treatment, that it attracted and drew larger and yet -larger houses. - -As the season went on, the manager, following his favourite policy, -prepared a series of revivals on a gigantic scale. These were virtually -convenient rehearsals for the coming American tour. But the constant -changes of scenes, dresses, etc., involve an enormous strain. The -round of pieces included, within the space of a few weeks, no fewer -than eleven plays: ‘Faust,’ ‘King Arthur,’ ‘Louis XI.,’ ‘Merchant of -Venice,’ ‘Becket,’ ‘Much Ado about Nothing,’ ‘The Lyons Mail,’ ‘Charles -I.,’ ‘Nance Oldfield,’ ‘Corsican Brothers,’ ‘Macbeth.’ A new short -piece, ‘Journeys End in Lovers Meeting,’ by George Moore and John Oliver -Hobbes, which was to introduce Miss Terry, was also announced. The burden -of “staging” all these great works, in a short time, must have been -enormous. But it was only in this fashion that the revivals could be done -justice to. - -It is a wonderful proof of our actor’s ability that, after so many years -of experiment in characters of all kinds, he should in almost his latest -attempt have made one of his most signal successes. I doubt if anything -he has hitherto tried has more profoundly impressed his audience than the -little cabinet sketch of Corporal Brewster in Dr. Conan Doyle’s ‘Story -of Waterloo.’ This he had first presented to a provincial audience, some -eight months ago, at Bristol, with such extraordinary effect that the -general audience of the kingdom felt instinctively that a great triumph -had been achieved. Everyone at a distance at once knew and was interested -in the old corporal. A second trial was made in London, for a charity; -and at last, on May 4 of the present year, it was formally brought -forward in the regular programme. There was what is called “a triple -bill,” consisting of Mr. Pinero’s early drama, ‘Bygones,’ this ‘Story -of Waterloo,’ and some scenes from ‘Don Quixote,’ Wills’s posthumous -work.[60] - -This sketch of the old soldier is a fine piece of acting, highly -finished, yet natural and unobtrusive, full of pathos and even tragedy. -The actor excelled himself in numerous forcible touches, now humorous, -now pathetic. He gave the effect of its being a large history in little; -we had the whole life of the character laid out before us. It was -original, too, and the oddities were all kept in with a fine reserve. -The figure will always be present to the memory, a satisfactory proof -of excellence. There was one mistake, however, in giving the female -character to Miss Hughes, a bright and lively _soubrette_, who could not, -therefore, supply the necessary sympathetic interest, though she did her -best. Taking it all in all, Corporal Brewster is, in its way, one of -the most masterly things the actor has done, and it can be praised—ay, -extolled—without the smallest reservation. - -It was followed by the scenes from ‘Don Quixote,’ and here, again, we -must admire that admirable power of conceiving a character in which -Irving excels, and in which all true actors should excel. It was admitted -that the piece was a “poorish” thing, but here was supplied the living -image of the hapless and ever interesting “Don,” who lived, moved, and -had his being before us, in the most perfect way. There was a general -dreaminess over him; his soul was so filled with high chivalrous visions -that he was indifferent to the coarsely prosaic incidents going on about -him. He filled the stage; the rest were mere puppets. The character, in -spite of the shortcomings of the piece, might be made one of his best. -“One of these days”—always an indefinite period—we may look to see him in -a vigorous, well-written drama on this subject. - -And here it may be said that this long connection of Wills and his school -with the Lyceum has tended somewhat to the sacrifice of brisk dramatic -action, which is always enfeebled by an excess of poetical recitations. -There are still many fine subjects and fine dramas which would kindle all -the actor’s powers afresh and stir his audiences. What a fine piece, for -instance, could be made of Victor Hugo’s ‘Notre Dame’! We already see -our actor as the mysterious and romantic monk—one more addition to his -ecclesiastical gallery. What opportunities for scenery and music! One -of the most picturesque of stories is that of Theodore of Corsica, he -who dreamed of being a king and actually became one, and who died in the -King’s Bench Prison in the most piteous state of misery. We should like -to see him, too, as Rodin, in Sue’s ‘Wandering Jew,’ and, better still, -in ‘Venice Preserved,’ or in ‘Mlle. de Belleisle.’ - -After his twenty years’ fruitful work at the Lyceum—twenty years and -more of picturesque labour during which a new interest was created in -the stage—an official recognition was to be given of our actor’s high -position. The year 1895 will henceforth be notable as the year of the -first tardy honour ever bestowed on an English actor by the Crown. We -have had titled players in abundance on the stage, but they have not owed -their honours to the stage. It has been said that Sir Richard Steele and -Sir Augustus Harris are the only two titled managers. When, in May, the -usual list of what are called “birthday honours” came out, the public was -delighted to find their favourite included, in company with a poet, a -novelist, and a successful traveller. Few Government acts have given such -general satisfaction. There was a general chorus of appreciation. Already -a lecturer before the Universities and a doctor of letters, the leading -player of his time was now officially recognised. - -To no class of the community was the honour more acceptable than to -his own profession. A meeting of actor-managers and others was held to -take some step “in recognition,” it was said, of the distinction. Mr. -Bancroft presided, and a provisional committee was formed, consisting of -Mr. Toole, Mr. Pinero, Mr. Beerbohm Tree, Sir A. Harris, Mr. Hare, Mr. -Wyndham, Mr. G. Alexander, Mr. Terry, Mr. Forbes Robertson, Mr. Terriss, -Mr. Howe, Mr. Brough, Mr. G. Conquest, and some others. Mr. Bashford -acted as secretary. Another meeting with the same end in view was called -of “proprietors, authors, managers.” All this was very gratifying. Not -less striking was the feeling with which the news was received abroad, -and his _confrères_ of the French comedy—the “House of Molière” as it -proudly and so justly boasts itself—lost not a moment in calling a -meeting and sending him a formal “act” of congratulation. This important -document ran: - - “Paris, _May 28, 1895_. - - “DEAR SIR HENRY IRVING, - - “The committee of the Comédie Française and the _sociétaires_ - of the House of Molière desire to send you their cordial - congratulations, and to signify the joy they feel at the high - distinction of which you have lately been made the recipient. - We are all delighted to see a great country pay homage to a - great artist, and we applaud with all our hearts the fitting - and signal recompense paid to an actor who has done such - powerful service and profound honour to our calling and our - art. Accept, then, dear Sir Henry Irving, the expression of the - deep sympathy as artists and the sincere devotion which we feel - towards you.—(Signed) Jules Claretie, administrator-general - and president of committee; Mounet Sully, G. Worms, Silvain, - Georges Baillet, Coquelin cadet, Proudhon, etc., of the - committee; S. Reichemberg, Bartet, B. Baretta Worms, Paul - Mounet, Mary Kalb, Blanche Pierson, A. Dudlay, etc., - _sociétaires_.” - -Looking back over this long period of nigh thirty years, we are -astonished to find this laborious and conscientious performer never -absent from his stage. Night after night, year after year, he is -still found at his post, defiant of fatigue or ill-health. Only on -one occasion, I think, owing to some affection of his throat, had a -substitute to take his place. The pressure and constant struggle of our -time, it may be, takes no account of weakness or failure; no one dares -relax, and as Mrs. Siddons declared the player’s nerves must be made of -cart-ropes, so must he have a constitution of iron or steel. - -Notwithstanding this constant strain upon his time and labour, there -is no figure more conspicuous in the whole round of social duties and -entertainments. Wherever there is a gathering for the purpose of helping -his profession, he is to be found presiding or assisting. He takes his -share in the important movements of the day, and his utterances, always -judicious, useful, and valuable, are quoted abundantly. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -L’ENVOI. - - -Irving has always shown himself eager to plead for his profession, to -urge its claim as a wholesome and instructive moral influence that will -implant in the community elevating instincts of even a religious kind. -All our great actors have been forward in this way, notably Garrick, -Kemble, and Macready. The former’s reply to the bishop as to the success -and failure of their different styles of preaching is well known. In -these days, when we have that singular “Church and State Guild,” with -the pleadings of the Reverend Stewart Headlam, and of other clergymen, -in favour of the ballet, it is curious to find how this indulgent and -tolerant view is repaid by the introduction on the stage of grotesque -curates, vicars, and deans, the line being drawn at bishops, who now -figure in many a comic opera in absurd and even degrading situations. Our -actor is very earnest, and fondly believes that the day is approaching -when the stage, and its ways and works, will be recognised by the Church, -and by good people generally, as healthy, useful agents in the work of -reforming men and women. He is fond of repeating the Bishop’s remark to -him, when he asked why, with such a taste for the theatre, he did not -frequent it—“My dear Irving, I am afraid of the _Rock_ and the _Record_.” - -In his numerous addresses at institutes, and before the Universities, he -has urged the same plea. And yet, with this skilful and loyal advocacy, -we have an instinct that the stage can have but small effect on the -masses, and does little beyond making them acquainted with certain -refining ideas and situations. As for its fostering moral or religious -impressions, by exhibiting “virtue triumphant and vice defeated,” that -seems to be rather fanciful. It is probable that the playwrights, -managers, actors, and audiences use the theatres for profit and for -amusement, not for self improvement in religion or morals. Even the -great classical works, such as those of Shakespeare, are set forward -with so much magnificence, show, and spectacle, that the teachings are -overpowered in the spectacle and general entertainment. But even granting -the contention that it may become a pure leaven in the profession, or -sweetening salt to purify the rest, who can maintain that the stage as -a whole, with its burlesques, “grotesques,” frivolities, fooleries, and -license of speech and manners, can be considered an edifying school for -morality and religion? What a deep impression, on the other hand, leaves -such a piece as ‘The School for Scandal’! what a genuine disgust for -deceit and insincerity! How it shows the danger of “playing with fire”! -What a pleasant sympathy is aroused with the natural, manly virtues! -Here is a certain sort of teaching if you will, and here, too, is there -an elemental morality. But in these days we unhappily not only lack the -talent to supply such comedies, but the public taste is debauched and -gorged with grosser dishes. - -In his paper, addressed to the Church of England Temperance Society, -and read on March 3, 1876, Irving very valiantly pressed for the -formal recognition of his profession by the Church. “Make the theatre -respected by openly recognising its services. Let members of religious -congregations know that there is no harm, but rather good, in entering -into ordinary amusements, so far as they are decorous. Use the pulpit, -the press, and the platform to denounce not the stage, but certain evils -that find allowance on it. Change your attitude towards the stage, and, -believe me, the stage will co-operate with you,” etc. - -It must be said, however, as regards this friendly invitation, that this -idea of the churches cordially recommending the stage and of the clergy -being seen in the stalls, and of bishops who would go to the theatre but -for fear of the _Rock_ and the _Record_, seems but a pleasant delusion. -Some few stray clerical visitants there are, no doubt; but in all ages -and climes the Church has found itself opposed to the stage, on the -ground that in the majority of theatres is found what is destroying and -corrupting. As I have said, the pieces in which anything instructive, or -even elevating, is set forth are but few. - -Irving has collected his various addresses in a charming little volume, -“The Drama,” 1893. Here, in an exceedingly persuasive and graceful -style, he has expounded the principles of his art. On every point he has -something to say, and all is marked by judiciousness and a temperate -reserve. He does not adopt Diderot’s well-known theory. How true, for -instance, is this: “Nor do I think that servility to archæology on -the stage is an unmixed good. Correctness of costume is admirable and -necessary up to a certain point, but when it ceases to be ‘as wholesome -as sweet’ it should, I think, be sacrificed. The nicest discretion is -needed in the use of the materials which are nowadays at the disposal -of the manager. Music, painting, architecture, costume, have all to be -employed, with a strict regard to the production of an artistic whole -in which no element shall be obtrusive.” When ‘Much Ado about Nothing’ -was produced, there was a scene representing a cedar walk, and a critic -discovered that there were no cedars in England until fifty years later, -on which he comments—“Absolute realism on the stage is not always -desirable, any more than the photographic reproduction of Nature can -claim to rank with the highest art.” - -A little bit of pleasant comedy is found in a recent speech of his at the -dinner of the Cabdrivers’ Benevolent Association in June last. He had -always a friendly feeling for this hard-worked body of men, as he told -his audience autobiographically: “I have spent a great part of my life -in cabs. There was a time, indeed, when a hansom, by a slight stretch -of the picturesque, might have been described as my address. That was -in the days of youth and high spirits. But there comes a moment in the -experience of all of us when the taste for adventure is satiated, when we -are no longer eager to sit under the charioteer of the sun, and snatch a -fearful joy from sharp corners and a sudden congestion of the traffic. -So when the decisive moment came for me I dropped the hansom and took -up with the growler. I remember that my first appearance in that staid -and unambitious vehicle excited a certain amount of feeling amongst my -old friends the hansom cabmen. There were letters of remonstrance. One -correspondent, as genial a humorist as Gentleman Joe, hinted that to be -seen in a growler was equivalent to being dead, and I think he offered -to paint my epitaph on the back. I must say that I am very comfortable -in a growler, except when the bottom drops out almost as suddenly as if -it were a gold mine. That accident once happened to a friend of mine -whose professional business compelled him to make a quick change of dress -in the cab, and as it was a light summer evening the passers-by were -astonished to see a pair of white legs running under the vehicle, and not -apparently connected with the horse.” - -Again a pleasant sketch: “Taking them as a body, the cabmen are as -industrious and deserving a class as you can find in the community. -There still lingers amongst them, perhaps, some of the old spirit which -prompted the cabmen to expostulate rather forcibly with Mr. Pickwick. And -considering the vast area in which these public servants have to work, -and the elasticity of the four-mile radius in the minds of some citizens, -the friction is surprisingly small. Not a few of us have known cabmen -whom we held in special regard. There was one affable driver that I -invited to the Lyceum, giving him the money for admission. The next time -I saw him I said, ‘Well, and how did you like the play?’ He hesitated for -a moment, choosing, as I thought, the most grateful words to express his -pleasure and admiration, and then he said, ‘Well, sir, I didn’t go.’ ‘You -didn’t go! Why not?’ ‘Well, sir, you see, there’s the missus, and she -preferred the Waxworks.’ - -“A friend of mine, a great ornament of the medical profession, used to -tell a story of the cabman who drove him regularly on his rounds for -some years, and always spoke of him with affectionate familiarity by -his Christian name. The time came for the rising surgeon to set up a -brougham, and with much reluctance he broke this news to his good friend -the cabby, who responded with cheerful alacrity, ‘Oh, you’re going to get -rid of me, are you? Not a bit of it—I’ll drive that brougham.’ And drive -it he did, till he became too old and infirm for the duty. ‘Ah, well, I -must give it up,’ he said one day; ‘I ain’t fit for it any longer.’ ‘Dear -me,’ said the doctor, in great concern, ‘I am very sorry, very sorry -indeed. And what are you going to do?’ ‘What am I going to do? What are -_you_ going to do for me? Don’t you fear—I’ll never leave you!’ And he -spent the rest of his days on a pension. That story has always seemed to -me to put the spirit of charity and goodwill in a thoroughly practical -light. You can scarcely get through life in this town without a sense of -your dependence on cabby’s skill and endurance, and with as grateful an -obligation to him as that of the voyager to the pilot amidst the reefs in -a storm. In this labyrinth of London, it is rare for cabby not to know -his way. I have never ceased to wonder at the cabman’s dexterity of eye -and hand—unrivalled, I venture to say, in any other capital in Europe. -And when you consider how small is the proportion of accidents in this -vast business of locomotion, you may cheerfully grant that cabby has some -claim upon your respect and generosity.” - -I think the whole “key” of this is admirably appropriate, and the touch -of the lightest.[61] - -At dinners and meetings he often glides into lively recollections of his -early days, related in an unaffected style, as when, not long since, he -told his lieges at Bristol: “My recollections of Bristol carry me back -to the days when my father told me stirring tales of the great Bristol -Riots, which had brought him the honours of a special constable. I think -I wanted to grow up to be a special constable too, and I had great hopes -that Bristol would kindly become sufficiently riotous to favour that -ambition. But I also had a turn for natural history, and it is indelibly -stamped upon my memory that on one occasion, when I was about four years -old, I made a little excursion by myself from St. James’s Barton to -Redcliffe Street in order to study a stag’s head which projected as -a sign from a certain house, where I was found by my anxious mother -peacefully contemplating the head of the antlered beast and wondering why -on earth he smelt so strongly of tallow. It was soon after this incident -that I witnessed a great event in the history of Bristol, the launching -of the steamship _Great Britain_. There was a vast throng of people to -see this mighty vessel, but the one thing which monopolized my attention -was the moustache of Prince Albert, who presided over the ceremony. I -was fired by an unquenchable longing to possess a similar ornament, and -I consulted a friend of mine, a chemist, who kept a particular brand -of acid-drops which I patronized at that time, and who consented to -make a moustache for me. It was a long business, and when I impatiently -inquired how it was getting on, he used to explain that he was growing it -somewhere at the back of his shop. Well, one day I demanded it with an -imperious energy which was not to be resisted, so he put me on a chair -and adorned my upper lip with burnt cork, with which I went home feeling -much elated, though a little disturbed by the demonstrations of the -juvenile public on the way. I have sometimes wondered whether it was that -burnt cork—the earliest of the rites in honour of Thespis—which gave my -career the bent that has brought me among you to-day. If my distinguished -colleague, Miss Ellen Terry, were here, she could tell you many stories -of the Bristol Theatre, in which I may almost say she was cradled.” - - * * * * * - -Such is an imperfect picture of a really remarkable man, who has left a -deep impression on his contemporaries. It was lately written of him by -one not always inclined to be partial to him: “We find the quality of -nobility to be the keynote of his character. No one ever accused him of -a mean or low act. His instincts are, to use a word that has been often -applied to them, ‘princely.’ He has in him that curious combination of -gentleness and dignity which used to be called ‘the grand style.’ Without -being tortuous in his methods, he is instinctively diplomatic, and there -are suggestions of delicacy, almost of asceticism, in his physique, -which convey an impression of refinement and possible self-denial.” Such -a character as this given of some stranger unknown would irresistibly -attract and make us eager to know him. And the author of animated -pictures of society in the various capitals adds these touches: “Whatever -he does is done on a great, even a grand, scale, and done without -ostentation, without violating any of the laws of good taste. His figure -is interesting, and not wanting in distinction. His manner is polished -and gentle; his voice, off the stage, always agreeable, and his style -peculiarly winning.” - - -THE END - -BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD. - - - - -FOOTNOTES - - -[1] Long after, in his prosperity, he recalled to American listeners an -excellent piece of advice given him by this actress. He was speaking of -the invaluable practice of revealing thoughts in the face before giving -them utterance, where, he said, it “will be found that the most natural, -the most seemingly accidental, effects are obtained when the working -of the mind is seen before the tongue gives its words. This lesson was -enjoined on me when I was a very young man by that remarkable actress, -Charlotte Cushman. I remember that when she played Meg Merrilies I was -cast for Henry Bertram, on the principle, seemingly, that an actor -with no singing voice is admirably fitted for a singing part. It was -my duty to give Meg Merrilies a piece of money, and I did it after the -traditional fashion by handing her a large purse full of coin of the -realm, in the shape of broken crockery, which was generally used in -financial transactions on the stage, because when the virtuous maiden -rejected with scorn the advances of the lordly libertine, and threw his -pernicious bribe upon the ground, the clatter of the broken crockery -suggested fabulous wealth. But after the play, Miss Cushman, in the -course of some kindly advice, said to me, ‘Instead of giving me that -purse, don’t you think it would have been much more natural if you had -taken a number of coins from your pocket and given me the smallest? That -is the way one gives alms to a beggar, and it would have added greatly to -the realism of the scene.’ I have never forgotten that lesson.” - -[2] It is not surprising that many more should have been found to claim -the credit of “discovering” Henry Irving. Mr. W. Reeve writes: “A long -talk again with Miss Herbert. As I have two theatres on my hands and a -company, decided not to go. She seemed very disappointed; asked me what -she should do. Thought of Henry Irving, who followed me in Manchester; -advised her to write to Mr. Chambers; promised to do so as well, if -engaged, for Mr. Knowles to release him. Wrote to Chambers about Irving.” -All which, as I know from the best authority, is somewhat imaginative. -The engagement was entirely owing to Boucicault. - -[3] Related in one of his conversations with Mr. Joseph Hatton. I have -heard Mr. Walter Lacy describe the modest, grateful fashion in which -our actor received some hints given him at rehearsal by this old and -experienced performer as to the playing of his part. - -[4] I may be allowed to refer those who would learn the importance of -this agent of “facial expression” to a little treatise of my own, _The -Art of Acting_—lecture at the Royal Institution, where it is fully -discussed. - -[5] Of this night, my friend Mr. Arthur A’Beckett has recently -recalled some memories: “All the dramatic critics were assembled. John -Oxenford—kindest of men and ripest of scholars—for the _Times_, E. L. -Blanchard for the _Daily Telegraph_, John Hollingshead (still amongst -us), the predecessor of my good friend Moy Thomas of the _Daily News_, -Leicester Buckingham for the _Morning Star_, Desmond Ryan (I think) -for the _Standard_, Heraud for the _Illustrated London News_, Tomlins -or Richard Lee for the Advertiser, and Joseph Knight (again one of our -veterans) for the _Sunday Times_. There were others—Clement Scott, W. S. -Gilbert, Andrew Halliday, Tom Robertson, Harry Leigh, Jeff Prowse, Tom -Hood—all members of the Savage Club in the days before clay-pipes went -out of fashion. We were assembled to see a new piece by Dion Boucicault, -then one of the most prolific of dramatists. Well, we were waiting for -the curtain to draw up on the first act of the new play. It was called -‘Hunted Down,’ and it was buzzed in the stalls that Dion had picked up -a very clever young actor in the provinces, who, after a short career -in town, had made his mark in Manchester. He was called Henry Irving. -Then there was another comparatively new name on the bills—Ada Dyas. -The piece had a strong plot, and was fairly successful; but, assisted -by the title, I believe it was a fight against long odds. A repentant -woman ‘with a past’ was hunted down. I fancy Miss Herbert (one of the -most charming actresses that ever trod the boards) was the ‘woman with -the past,’ and that it was she who was ‘hunted down.’ But, although my -impressions of the play are vague and blurred, I can see Henry Irving as -the most admirable villain—cool, calm, and implacable—and Ada Dyas as his -suffering wife. They stand before me as I write, two distinct figures. Of -the rest of the piece, I repeat, I remember next to nothing.” - -[6] At this time I happened to be living in Dublin, and recall with -pleasure the comedian’s striking face and figure, and the entertainment -that he imparted. Once buying a newspaper in a shop that was close by the -fine old Theatre Royal, since destroyed by fire, a “characteristical” -pair entered, whom I recognised from having seen them on the stage. I -was particularly struck with the pale, well-marked features, the black -flowing hair, the dress of correct black, the whole very much suggesting -Nicholas Nickleby, or some other of Dickens’ “walking gentlemen.” There -was something strangely attractive about him, and a courteous, kindly -tone to the owner of the shop as he made his purchase. When the pair -had departed the lady’s tongue “grew wanton in his praise.” “Oh, but -Mr. Irving,” she said enthusiastically, “he is the _one_; a perfect -gentleman! Every morning he comes in to buy his newspaper, and he do -speak so _nicely_. I _do_ think he is a charming young man,” etc. - -[7] The good-looking Montague, following the invariable development, -seceded from the management and set up a theatre for himself. This not -proving successful, he went to America, where he died early. - -[8] It has been stated, I know not with what truth, that he was engaged -at a salary of £15 a week, which was raised on the success of ‘The Bells’ -to £35. - -[9] Originally the piece opened with the second act, and the manager was -said to have exclaimed: “Oh, bother politics! give us _some domestic -business_.” This led to the introduction of the tranquil, pastoral -scene at Hampton Court. The closing scene, as devised by the author, -represented the capture of the king on the field of battle. “Won’t do,” -said the “Colonel” bluntly; “must wind up with _another_ domestic act.” -Sorely perplexed by this requirement, which they felt was correct, -both author and actor tried many expedients without success, until one -evening, towards the small hours, the manager, who appeared to be dozing -in his chair, suddenly called out: “Look at the last act of ‘Black-eyed -Susan,’ with the prayer-book, chain, and all.” All which may be -legendary, and I give it for what it is worth. - -[10] I recall the manager’s complacent anticipation of the success of his -_coup_. “Clayton,” he said, “was a clever, spirited fellow, and would -assuredly make a hit in the part.” He certainly played respectably, -and made up by earnestness what he lacked in other points. He was -particularly proud of his own “make up.” But his inharmonious voice was -against him, and it was impossible to “take him” seriously. - -[11] “_Lyceum.—Charles I., Mr. Henry Irving._ The profound admiration -that has been manifested by all classes (for the past four months) in -this noble poetic play, and the unqualified approval bestowed by the -most illustrious auditors upon Mr. Henry Irving’s great creation of the -martyr-king, have marked a new era in public taste. The manager is proud -to be able to announce that the immense audiences nightly assembled -render any change in the performances impossible.—_Miss Isabel Bateman_, -in her tender and exquisitely pathetic portraiture of Queen Henrietta -Maria.—_Mr. George Belmore_, in his vigorous and masterly assumption of -Oliver Cromwell.” Thus the modern Elliston. - -[12] I have seen in an old criticism a notice of a leading performer who -in similar fashion “condescended”—so it was phrased—to the part of the -Ghost, and whose impersonation was declared to be “more than usually -_gentlemanlike and reputable_.” - -[13] Old Cibber thus grumbled at Garrick’s rise, and other quidnuncs at -Kemble’s; and when Edward Kean came, there was the old prompter, who, -when asked his opinion if he were not equal to Kemble, said: “Very clever -young man indeed, very clever; but Lord bless you, sir, Mr. Kemble _was a -different thing altogether_.” - -[14] I have a vast collection of these things, filling some fourteen -great folio volumes—an extraordinary tribute to the actor’s success. - -[15] At the close of the performance, Mr. Chippendale presented to -him the sword used by Kean when playing Richard. Later a friend gave -him “the George,” which the great actor also wore in the part. Lady -Burdett-Coutts, always one of his great admirers, added Garrick’s ring, -“in recognition of the gratification derived from his Shakespeare -representations, uniting to many characteristics of his great -predecessors in histrionic art (whom he is too young to remember) the -charm of original thought.” I may add that I was the medium of conveying -to Irving Macready’s dress as Virginius, at the request of Mrs. John -Forster, to whose husband it had been given by the great tragedian, with -the accompanying “tinfoil dagger” with which he used to immolate Virginia. - -[16] One night, during the performance of ‘Hamlet,’ something was thrown -from the gallery on to the stage. It fell into the orchestra, and for -a time could not be found. A sad-looking working-woman called at the -stage-door to ask about it, and was glad to learn it was found. It was -only a cheap, common thing. “I often go to the gallery,” she said, “and -I wanted Mr. Irving to have this. I wanted him alone in the world to -possess it.” “This,” he added, telling the story, “is the little trinket -which I wear on my watch-chain.” - -[17] Her valedictory address ran: “Mrs. Bateman begs to announce that -her tenancy of the Lyceum Theatre terminates with the present month. For -seven years it has been associated with the name she bears. During the -three years and a half that the business management has been under her -special control, the liberal patronage of the public has enabled her -to wind up the affairs of each successive season with a profit. During -this period ‘Macbeth’ was produced for the first time in London without -interpolation from Middleton’s ‘Witch.’ Tennyson’s first play, ‘Queen -Mary,’ was given; and Shakespeare’s ‘King Richard III.,’ for the first -time in London from the original text. Mrs. Bateman’s lease has been -transferred to Mr. Henry Irving, to whose attraction as an artist the -prosperity of the theatre is entirely attributable, and she confidently -hopes that under his care it may attain higher artistic distinction and -complete prosperity. In conclusion, Mrs. Bateman ventures to express -her gratitude for the kindness and generosity extended to her by the -public—kindness that has overlooked many shortcomings, and generosity -that has enabled her to faithfully carry out all her obligations to the -close of her tenancy.—Lyceum, August 31, 1878.” - -[18] It was built in 1830, so it is now over sixty-five years of age. The -lease, held from Lord Exeter, has not many years to run—some twenty or -so, I believe. - -[19] He was described by a friend as “always just arrived by the mail in -time to see the fish removed, or as going off by the early coach after -the last dance at four in the morning.” He wrote his own epitaph— - - “Here lies Samuel Beazely, - Who lived hard and died easily.” - -[20] The actress is of a genuinely theatrical family. Readers of Scott’s -Life will recall the clever, industrious Terry, who was long connected -with the Edinburgh stage, and had himself adapted so many of the Scott -novels. Miss Terry’s father was also long connected with the Edinburgh -stage; her three sisters, her brother, her two children, have all -found their way to the “boards.” Even the precocious child performer, -Minnie Terry, is different from other prodigy children, and imparts a -distinction to what is usually a disagreeable sort of exhibition. I -take from the pages of _The Theatre_ the following minute account of -Miss Terry’s career:—“Miss Ellen Terry was born at Coventry on February -27, 1848. Her first appearance on the stage was made at the Princess’s -Theatre, under the management of Mr. Charles Kean, on April 28, 1856. -On October 15 of the same year she appeared as Puck in the revival of -‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream.’ In Mr. Kean’s production of ‘King John,’ -on October 18, 1858, she acted the part of Arthur. She next appeared at -the Royalty and Haymarket Theatres, and at the latter house she played -in ‘Much Ado About Nothing.’ In March, 1863, she acted Gertrude in ‘The -Little Treasure,’ at the Haymarket. She then acted at the Queen’s Theatre -in Long Acre, where, on October 24, 1867, she sustained the character -of Rose de Beaurepaire in ‘The Double Marriage,’ also in ‘Still Waters -Run Deep’; and, on December 26 of the same year she acted for the first -time with Mr. Henry Irving, playing Katherine to his Petruchio in ‘The -Taming of the Shrew.’ Miss Terry then retired from the stage for some -years, reappearing on February 28, 1874, at the Queen’s Theatre, as -Philippa Chester in ‘The Wandering Heir.’ On April 18 of the same year -she acted Susan Merton in ‘It’s Never Too Late to Mend,’ at Astley’s -Theatre, a performance which the _Daily News_ thought worthy of ‘especial -mention.’ Miss Terry’s first ‘hit,’ however, was made in April, 1875, -when she acted Portia in ‘The Merchant of Venice,’ at the Prince of -Wales’s Theatre. At the same theatre, in May following, she acted Clara -Douglas in ‘Money’; and on August 7, 1875, she appeared at the Princess’s -Theatre, for one night only, as Pauline in ‘The Lady of Lyons.’ In -November following she acted Mabel Vane in ‘Masks and Faces’; and in -May, 1876, she played Blanche Haye in ‘Ours,’ at the Prince of Wales’s -Theatre. Going to the Court Theatre, in the autumn of the same year, she -appeared in ‘The House of Darnley,’ and represented Lilian Vavaseur in -‘New Men and Old Acres.’”—Her first appearance was not in 1856, as so -many have set down, but in 1854. This was in the part of one of the young -princes “murdered in the Tower,” though it has been often stated that -the part was the child one of Mamilius in ‘The Winter’s Tale.’ This was -ascertained by my late friend Dutton Cook, one of the most painstaking -and accurate of men. - -Two rival houses in Coventry at this moment claim to be her birthplace. -A greengrocer, at No. 5, Market Street, displays a plate or placard, -announcing that she was born in his house: while a haberdasher, at No. -26, over the way, protests that “This house is the original birthplace of -Miss Ellen Terry, _and no other_. Observe the name, _Terry House_.” Two -other householders make the same claim. But an “old nurse” declares for -No. 5. - -[21] Time moves so quickly on that many will have forgotten that the -popular writer Pinero, whose dramatic works are now in such demand, was -at this time an obscure, painstaking actor, and one of the first to take -service in Irving’s _corps_. By-and-by he brought the manager some slight -pieces, such as ‘Daisy’s Escape,’ to serve as _levers de rideau_. These -were neatly written and full of spirit. He thus practised his pen, and, -as the stage was of large size, had to aim at broad, bold effects, a -treatment which has been of material service in his more formal pieces. -To his efforts as an actor we can scarcely extend the admiration we -have for his writings; and his performance of Sir Peter Teazle at the -Haymarket was a strange, wonderful thing. - -[22] Amiable and forbearing as Irving has always shown himself to his -subordinates, he can be resolute in seeing that what he wishes or wants -is carried out. Schemes of scenery found available on trial have again -and again been condemned because they failed to bring about the effect -desired. This, however, is the secret of the unity and homogeneousness of -his productions. It is admitted that even in the matter of the elaborate -orchestral music, which we might fancy he would leave to the professors, -he has much to say and alter. It may strike him as not being suited to -the situation. Fresh experiments will have to be made, to be also set -aside, to the despair of the composer. Then the _difficile_ manager will -be heard to attempt, vocally, some rude outline of what he desires, and -this rude suggestion the ready musician will grasp and put into shape, -and it will be agreed _nem. con._ that somehow this last attempt suits -the situation exactly. This sense of perfect propriety _in omnibus_ is a -“note” of our manager’s character. - -[23] Once, at Edinburgh, during a performance of ‘The Merchant of -Venice,’ the students of the University had been very tumultuous, and -scarcely a word was heard of the first scenes. Suddenly the drop-scene -descended, and the actor appeared. There was silence when, with perfect -good-humour and firmness, he said that, owing to some misunderstanding, -the first portion of the piece had not been heard by the audience, and -that he was now going to recommence the whole from the beginning. And so -it was done. - -[24] Arthur Matthison, a quaint, clever American, who had written some -successful dramas, was chosen to play “the double” of the leading actor: -that is, after passing behind the “practicable” tree, he was to emerge, -taking care to keep his back to the audience. Unluckily for stage -effect, no known art will help “to dodge Nature” in such points. She -has no _replicas_ in her store: makes everything distinct. And it is -significant of the strong individuality which belongs to the whole body -as well as to the face, that the eye will at once note the difference -of expression in the outline of the figure, arms, etc. I believe no two -people could be found so alike in their general appearance as to be -indistinguishable—thus illustrating the late Mr. Carlyle’s quaint phrase -when speaking of someone whose character he had interpreted unfavourably, -“_I knew it by the twist of the hip of him_.” - -[25] A curious little controversy arose as to the authorship of the -_Ghost Melody_. It was claimed for Mr. Stöpel, who was acting as _chef -d’orchestre_ at the Théâtre Historique when the play was originally -produced. Another claim was made for Varney, author of the stirring -hymn, _Mourir pour la patrie_. Oddly enough, Stöpel, who was then at the -Adelphi, could not be got “to say yes or no.” “He was amused,” he said, -“at the importance attached to such a trifle, and could, if he chose, set -the matter at rest in a few words.” But he did not. Still, there used to -be a pianoforte piece by one Rosellen—a _Reverie_—which certainly began -and went on for many bars in the same fashion. However, a copy of the -music of the _Ghost Melody_, arranged for the pianoforte, and published -in 1852, was unearthed, which bore on its title the words: “Composed by -M. Varney, of the Théâtre Historique: arranged by R. Stöpel, director -of the music at the Princess’s Theatre.” This settled the point, and it -explained the ambiguous declaration of the arranger. We must assuredly -give the whole credit of this air to Varney. - -[26] One agreeable night which was spent behind the scenes enabled me to -study the admirable arrangements by which this complicated operation was -carried out with smoothness and success. - -No sooner has the drop-scene fallen—and a person always “stands by” to -see that the huge roller is kept clear of careless spectators—than a -busy scene sets in. Instantly men emerge from every side; the hills and -banks, the slopes leading down the hill, the steps and massive pedestal -that flank the entrance to the Temple on the right, are lifted up and -disappear gradually; the distant landscape mounts slowly into the air; -the long rows of jets are unfastened and carried off—in three or four -minutes the whole is clear. At this moment are seen slowly coming down -from aloft what appear to be three long heavy frames or beams—two in -the direction of the length, one across the whole breadth of the stage. -These make a sort of enclosure open on one side, and form the pediment -or upper portion of the Temple meant to rest on the pillars. Soon busy -hands have joined these three great joists by bolts and fastenings; the -signal is given, and it begins to ascend again. Meanwhile, others have -been bringing out from the “scene dock” pillars with their bases, and -arranging them; and as the great beams move slowly up to their place, -they hoist with them the columns, attached by ropes which pass through. -By this time all the columns are swinging in the air; another moment and -they have dropped into their places in the pedestal. The place of each -pedestal is marked on the floor. In a few moments everything is fitted -and falls into its place, with an almost martial exactness. Then are seen -slowly descending the other portions of the roof, sky-borders, etc., all -falling into their places quietly and with a sort of mysterious growth. -We have glimpses in the galleries aloft of men hauling at ropes and -pulleys, or turning “drums.” Finally the whole is set and complete, and -men bear in the altars and steps and the enormous idol at the back—over -twenty feet high. It is worth while looking close even at the sound and -effective modelling of the raised classic figures that encircle the lower -portions of each column, all in good relief, such as we see in Mr. Alma -Tadema’s pictures. The variety and richness of these are surprising, and -they fairly bear a close inspection. They are coloured, too, with that -ivory tone which the older marbles acquire. All this was wrought in the -property-room, and worked in clay; the figures were then plastered over -with paper, or _papier-mâché_, a material invaluable to the scenic artist -as furnishing relief and detail so as to catch the lights and shadows, -having the merit of being exceedingly light and portable, of bearing -rough usage and knocking about, which carved wood would not. The idol, -now looming solemnly at the back, is formed of the same material. It is -curious to find that the pillars and their capitals are all constructed -literally in the lines of perspective, as such would be drawn on a flat -surface; they diminish in height as they are farther off, and their top -and bottom surfaces are sloped in a converging line. Thus the “building” -stood revealed and complete, and round the pillars ran an open space, -enclosed as it were by the walls. What with the gloom and the general -mystery, the whole would pass, even to those standing by, as a very -imposing structure. - -[27] One morning, during the preparations, I found myself in the -painting-room, where Mr. Craven was busy with one of the interesting -little models of scenery by which the effect can be tested. The reader -may not know that the scenic artist has his model theatre, a foot or -so wide, but made “to scale.” He has also ground-plans of the stage, -showing all the exits, etc., also done to scale. By these aids the most -complicated scenes can be designed and tried. I was struck with the -careful, conscientious fashion in which the manager discussed a little -Venetian scene, rudely painted in water-colours, which had just been -set. He saw it in connection with the entrances of the actors, and was -not quite satisfied with the arrangement. He tried various devices, and -proposed a gateway, which entailed making a new design. This he suggested -to the painter with pleasant persuasion and kindly apologetic courtesy, -but was, as always, firm in his purpose. If a second experiment did not -satisfy, it must be tried again. _Suaviter in modo_, etc., is certainly -his maxim. - -[28] This performer is associated with the best traditions of the good -old school; and is linked with many interesting associations. It is -curious, too, to think that he belongs, or belonged, to the Society of -Friends. We have, and have had, a good many Jews upon the stage, but a -Quaker is a rarity. When he was in America, he related the story of his -life to an inquirer: “I was attending a public school in Yorkshire. It -was a Quaker school at Ackworth, although boys not of Quaker parentage -attended it. Somehow I was always selected to recite some piece for -the visitors—some of those old pieces, you know, such as _The Roman -Gladiator_, or _Paul before Agrippa_. In this way I acquired my first -liking for the stage. One night I went with my cousin John to the Old -Drury Lane Theatre to see Kean, who was then creating a _furore_ by his -magnificent acting. In those days, you know, they sold good seats in the -gallery for a shilling; so I and my cousin Jack paid our shilling—the -usual half-price—and went into the gallery. I shall never forget that -night. The playing opened, I think, with the third act. I see Kean as -plainly as if it were only yesterday. There he sat, a small man, upon his -throne in the middle of the stage. Well, after leaving the theatre, Jack -and I had to cross a bridge on our way home. I sat down in the recess of -the bridge, almost overcome by my emotion, and said, ‘John, I am going to -be an actor.’ He tried to dissuade me, and laughed at the folly of the -idea, but my mind was made up.” One of the most striking incidents at -a recent production of ‘King Lear’ was the ‘ovation,’ as it is called, -which greeted the veteran as he presented himself in a small character. - -[29] For a time the house was “on crutches,” as it is called, an -operation of considerable architectural delicacy. In the great -“cellarage” below the stage, huge storehouses filled with the rubbish of -half a century, were discovered masses of decayed peacocks’ feathers, -which much perplexed the explorers and everybody else, until it was -recalled that these were the antique “properties” used by Madame Vestris -in one of her Planché burlesques. The labour was herculean, and the -indefatigable Bram Stoker threw himself with heart and soul into the -business. We might lament, however, that the beautiful interior suffered -somewhat in the later alterations. The elegant contour was disturbed; -the double pillars, which recurred periodically in the dress tier, were -reduced to a single one. The fine entrance-hall lost its symmetry from -being enlarged. But such sacrifices are absolutely necessary, and are not -the first that have had to be made under “the form and pressure of the -time.” The alterations cost a very large sum indeed, but our manager has -always been an improving tenant, and has periodically laid out vast sums -on the improvement and decoration of his house. - -[30] Mr. Labouchere, a shrewd observer, a friend and admirer of the -actor’s abilities, always speaks out his opinions in plain, blunt terms: -“An actor must, in order to win popularity, have mannerisms, and the -more peculiar they are, the greater will be his popularity. No one -can for a moment suppose that Mr. Irving could not speak distinctly, -progress about the stage after the fashion of human beings, and stand -still without balancing to and fro if he pleased. Yet, had he not done -all this, he would—notwithstanding that there is a touch of real genius -about his acting sometimes—never have made the mark that he has. He -is, indeed, to the stage what Lord Beaconsfield was to politics. That -exceedingly able man never could utter the resonant clap-trap in which -he so often indulged, and which made men talk about him, without almost -showing by his manner that he himself despised the tricks which gave him -individuality. Were Mr. Irving at present to abate his peculiarities, -his fervent worshippers would complain that their idol was sinking into -mere common-place. Therefore, as I sincerely hope that, for his sake, the -idolaters will continue to bow down before him and fill his treasury, I -trust that he will never change.” There is a cynical flavour in this, and -it is not very flattering to the audience, but underlying it there is -some truth. - -[31] A rapturous article from a Liverpool critic, Mr. Russell, had -appeared in _Macmillan’s Magazine_, which was, indeed, somewhat -indiscriminating in its praises of the Lyceum ‘Romeo and Juliet.’ - -[32] Mr. Forbes Robertson, who is painter as well as actor, depicted this -striking scene on canvas, giving portraits of the performers. It has been -engraved (or rather “processed”) with very happy result. - -[33] It was an unusual tribute to the interest excited in every direction -by the actor’s personality, that in the December of this year the lady -students at University College should have chosen him for the subject of -a formal debate, under the presidency of the clever Miss Fawcett. The -thesis set down was, “That Henry Irving has, by his dramatic genius, -earned his place as foremost among living actors,” and the discussion -was begun with much spirit and fluency by Miss Rees, who proceeded to -give an analysis of his Hamlet and other characters, contending that -his extraordinary _success_ was a proof of his merit. The opposition -was led by Mrs. Brooksbanks, who fairly and unsparingly attacked the -actor for his mannerisms and various defects. After a reply from Miss -Rees, the original motion was put to the ladies, and was carried by a -slender majority. The actor must have read these proceedings, which were -flattering enough, with much enjoyment. - -[34] An idea of what a “tremendous” business this was may be gathered -from a single detail. A well-known experienced wigmaker from Covent -Garden, with two assistants, was engaged to look after the _coiffures_ -of the company, and these “artists in hair” had under their charge a -collection of wigs, entirely new, no fewer than eleven hundred in number. -On a later visit there were fifteen hundred wigs! - -[35] Where it now hangs over the chimneypiece in the Guests’ Room. It -is not so successful as many others of Millais’ works; it is rather -sketchily painted, and lacks force and expression. The late Mr. Long -painted the actor as Hamlet and Richard III. These are not very striking -performances, but they are refined and interesting portraits. Mr. -Whistler produced an extraordinary one of him as Philip II., strangely -“shadowy” but powerful, and of preternatural length. A number of artists -of less pretension have also essayed to limn the actor; but all have -failed to sketch the mobile, delicate expression of the lips. Boldly -daring, I myself have fashioned a bust of him in terra-cotta. - -[36] It is said that the origin of the acquaintance between Irving and -this statesman was an accidental encounter in the street, when the -latter, with a sympathetic impulsiveness, stopped Irving and introduced -himself. He has since been an assiduous frequenter of the Lyceum, and -in his eighty-third year was seen in the stalls or behind the scenes, -following the course of ‘Henry VIII.’ with unabated interest. - -[37] These newspapers were sent to me without interruption through the -whole tour by Irving’s direction. - -[38] A description of a “first-night” at the Clement Street Opera House -is worth quoting here: - -“Ladies took their place in line and waited for hours to get tickets for -the opening performance. The face of the tall and genial Bram Stoker, -Mr. Irving’s agent, wore a broad smile as, standing in the vestibule, -he noticed the swelling crowd passing between the continually swinging -doors. The array of regular first-nighters was up to the notch, and all -the familiar faces, not only those most looked for with the lorgnettes, -but those that vanish between the acts, were there. Tall Tom Donaldson, -one of Blaine’s lieutenants, whose wife and daughter were in one of the -boxes, was leaning against the wall talking to Judge William Haydon, -formerly of Nevada, one of the oldest theatre-goers in the United States, -who saw Edmund Kean play Hamlet, and thinks Irving the best actor he -has seen since. Joseph F. Tobias, ruddy, genial, and Chesterfieldian as -ever, was shaking hands at every turn, and L. Clark Davis, in immaculate -evening dress and pearl studs, but with the inevitable Bohemian hat, was -the centre of a chatty group. Charles E. Cramp and Horace Warding were -talking to Dr. Thomas H. Andrews, who has the largest theatrical practice -of any physician in Philadelphia, and has been called to attend half the -stars who have appeared here in recent years. Almost every well-known -first-nighter was on hand, and the invariable sentiment was that this -was the big event of the present year. There were many well-known people -who are not often seen at the theatre, notably Daniel M. Fox, Director -of the Mint, who sat in the centre aisle, near the stage, with a party -of friends, and appeared to enjoy the performance very much. Just back -of him was a large party from Bethlehem, Pa. John R. Jones, the Bible -publisher, had with him Miss Jones, in a stunning gray imported costume, -one of the most artistic in the theatre. Robert W. Downing had quite a -party. There were several large theatrical parties. The most noticeable -was the one given by Miss K. N. Green, which included many attractive -ladies. Ex-Attorney-General Brewster was the centre of quite a large -party in the orchestra, including several ladies. A very beautiful bevy -was the party given by Miss Hattie Fox, daughter of George S. Fox, which -numbered thirty-five. They all had seats in the orchestra circle. Some of -the most fashionable people had to be content with seats upstairs, and -there was one party of young ladies in the family circle who were in full -dress and went direct in carriages, at the close of the performance, to -the dancing-class.” - -[39] When the piece was first given at the Court Theatre, there was a bit -of realism that was almost too conscientious. The little family music was -accompanied on a genuine old harpsichord, which, it was gravely announced -in the bill, was actually dated 1768, about the period of the novel, and -was of course, “kindly lent” by the owner. - -[40] It is but fair to add that Mr. Conway was suffering from the -approach of a serious illness, which declared itself shortly after. - -[41] I recall a Sunday morning during this visit, when a message arrived -from the manager asking me to join a festive party to Dorking, to which -he had invited some members of the French comedy. At the Garrick Club, -the favourite coach, “Old Times,” was waiting, and presently it was -“Buzz!—here come the players.” A delightful drive it was, and a truly -enjoyable day. There was Mounet Sully, the fervent stage lover—then, -it was whispered, the prey of a hopeless attachment to the gifted -“Sarah”—the _spirituel_ Delaunay, still a _jeune premier_ in spite of his -years; with two or three others of the _corps_. Of the party were also -my friend Mr. Walter Pollock, with his genial, well-cultured father, the -late Sir Frederick; Campbell Clarke, French correspondent to the _Daily -Telegraph_, and some other _littérateurs_. There was the drive down to -the inviting little town, with a lunch at the old inn, some wanderings -about its leafy lanes, and a return in the evening to the club, where -the host gave a banquet, at which speeches in French and English were -delivered. The interesting strangers took away with them the lasting -impression that he was “truly a sympathetic personage, with a great deal -of French grace and _bonhomie_ in his nature.” - -[42] This also seemed rather unintelligible to the audience; but its -secret was the secret of the creator or originator of the part. Such -devices are really significant of something dramatic that has actually -prompted them; they become an expression. The revived “business,” -therefore, will not serve unless the original spirit attends it. This -squeaking snuff-box was a note of _diablerie_, introduced with strange -sudden spasms at unexpected moments, and corresponded to the twitches -and spasms of Macaire’s mind. For the manager I collected much of old -Lemaître’s business, with those curious chants with which the robber -carried off his villainies. Jingle and Job Trotter were certainly -modelled on Macaire and his man; for the piece was being played as -_Pickwick_ came out. - -[43] We may at least admire this writer’s perseverance and intrepidity, -who from that time has never relaxed his efforts to win the approbation -or secure the attention of the public. One could have wished him better -success with his later venture and most ambitious attempt, the management -of the Avenue Theatre, where he introduced his own piece illustrative of -“modern English Life,” with which his critics—for whom, like the sapper, -nothing is sacred—made merry. He is not likely to be daunted by this, and -I have little doubt he will “arrive” at last. - -[44] The quaint name of this club, “the Kerneuzers,” was suggested by -a simple attendant, who actually so described the members; it was his -pronunciation of the word “connoisseurs.” - -[45] Once, when visiting Stratford-on-Avon with Toole, he saw a rustic -sitting on a fence, whom they submitted to an interrogatory. “That’s -Shakespeare’s house, isn’t it?” it was asked innocently. “Ees.” “Ever -been there?” “Noä.” “How long has he been dead?” “Dunno.” “What did he -do?” “Dunno.” “Did he not write?” “Oh yes, he did summat.” “What was it?” -“Well, I think he writ _Boible_.” A pleasantry that both the players once -contrived in Scotland, at the expense of an old waiter at a hotel, is of -a higher order of merit than such hoaxes usually offer. At this country -inn they had noted that the spoons, forks, etc., seemed to be of silver, -and with some artfully designed emphasis they questioned the waiter about -the property. As soon as he had gone out, they concealed all the plate, -and, having rung the bell, jumped out of the window, which was close to -the ground, and hid themselves in the shrubbery. The old man re-entered: -they heard his cries of rage and astonishment at the robbery, and at the -disappearance of the supposed thieves. He then rushed from the room to -summon the household. The rest of the story is worth giving in Irving’s -words, as reported by Mr. Hatton. - -“We all crept back to the room, closed the window, drew down the blind, -relighted the gas and our cigars, put each piece of silver back into its -proper place, and sat down to wait for our bill. In a few minutes we -heard evidently the entire household coming pell-mell to the dining-room. -Then our door was flung open; but the crowd, instead of rushing in upon -us, suddenly paused _en masse_, and Sandy exclaimed, ‘Great God! Weel, -weel! Hae I just gane clean daft?’ - -“‘Come awa’, drunken foo’, come awa’!’ exclaimed the landlord, pulling -Sandy and the rest back into the passage and shutting the door.” - -[46] Quite a number of relics of great actors have, as we have already -shown, found their way to Irving’s custody; and there is always something -pleasant for him to think of when he recalls the presentation. Thus on -his visit to Oxford he had spoken of the last days of Edmund Kean, who -had died in sore straits. A few days later he received a purse of faded -green silk found in the pocket of the great actor just after his death, -and found empty. It had been given by Charles Kean to John Forster, and -by him to Robert Browning. Edmund and Charles Kean, Forster, Browning, -and Irving form a remarkable pedigree. “How can I more worthily place -it,” wrote Browning, “than in your hands, if they will do me the honour -to take it, with all respect and regard?” - -[47] One of these many “snappers-up of trifles” described the nightgown -worn by Lady Macbeth in her sleep-walking scene, which was all of wool -knitted into a pretty design. Mrs. Comyns Carr designed Miss Terry’s -dresses, which certainly did not lack bold originality. There was the -curious peacock blue and malachite green dress which contrasted with the -locks of copper-coloured hair, from which the half American artist, Mr. -Serjeant, formed a striking but not very pleasing portrait. - -[48] It was likely that the majority of these persons were incapacitated -by age from forming a judgment on this matter; but it was curious that -I should have conversed with two persons at least who were capable of -making the comparison. One was Mr. Fladgate of the Garrick Club, a most -interesting man, well stored with anecdotes of Kemble, Kean, and others, -who once, in the library of the club, gave me a vivid delineation of -the good John’s methods in ‘The Stranger.’ The other was Mr. Charles -Villiers, who is, at the moment I write, in about his ninetieth year. A -most characteristic incident was a letter from the veteran Mrs. Keeley, -with much generous criticism of Miss Terry’s performance, thus showing -none of the old narrow spirit which can only “praise bygone days.” She -frankly added that until visiting the Lyceum she had never witnessed a -performance of the play from one end to the other, though she had seen -many a great performer in it, and had herself performed in it. This -recalls Mrs. Pritchard, one of the great Lady Macbeths, who, as Dr. -Johnson said, had never seen the fifth act, as it did not fall within her -part. - -[49] Charles Reade’s strange, odd appreciation of this gifted, mercurial -woman is worth preserving: - -“Ellen Terry is an enigma. Her eyes are pale, her nose rather long, her -mouth nothing particular, complexion a delicate brick-dust, her hair -rather like tow. Yet, somehow, she is _beautiful_. Her expression _kills_ -any pretty face you see beside her. Her figure is lean and bony, her hand -masculine in size and form. Yet she is a pattern of fawn-like grace. -Whether in movement or repose, grace _pervades the hussy_. In character -impulsive, intelligent, weak, hysterical—in short, all that is abominable -and charming in woman. Ellen Terry is a very charming actress. I see -through and through her. Yet she pleases me all the same. _Little Duck!_” - -This suggests the old rhyme: - - “Thou hast so many pleasing, teazing ways about thee, - There’s no living with thee or without thee.” - -[50] It was interesting to note, at a St. James’s Hall performance, June -25, the pleasant, eager vivacity of the actress, who, familiar as she was -with the play, seemed to be repeating with her lips all the portions in -which she was not concerned. In the more dramatic portions, it was plain -she was eager to be on the scene once more. As she sat she anxiously -waited for the orchestra to come in at their proper places, sometimes -giving them the signal. This very natural behaviour interested everyone. - -[51] Another play was written for him on the subject of ‘Mahomet,’ which -he was inclined to bring out; but here again authority interposed, -and “invited him,” as the French so politely have it, to abandon his -purpose. It was at the end of the summer season of 1879 that our manager, -after naming these pieces, spoke of others which he had in reserve, -either revivals or wholly new ones. It is interesting to think that -he had thought of the stormy and pathetic ‘Gamester,’ which has ever -an absorbing attraction; ‘The Stranger’ also was spoken of; but their -treatment would have offered too many points of similarity to Eugene -Aram and other characters of “inspissated gloom.” On this occasion, when -speaking of “the romantic and pathetic story” of Emmett, he announced a -drama on the subject of Rienzi, which his friend Wills had prepared for -him, but which has never yet seen the light. Years have rolled by swiftly -since that night, and the author has often been heard to bewail the -delays and impediments which hindered the production of what he no doubt -considered his finest performance. Another great drama long promised and -long due is ‘Coriolanus,’ for which Mr. Alma Tadema has designed scenery. - -[52] An American lady, a Californian artist, was the first to enter the -pit for the opening performance of ‘Henry VIII.’ at the Lyceum. “I and -a friend went with our camp-stools and took our places next the door at -ten o’clock in the morning. We were provided with a volume of _Harper’s -Magazine_, a sketch-book, writing-paper, and a fountain-pen, caricatures -of Henry Irving, and much patience. A newspaper spread under the feet and -a Japanese muff warmer, with sandwiches and a bottle of wine, kept us -comfortable. Two ladies were the next comers, and shortly a crowd began -to collect. Real amusing it was, but not very elegant. After about two -hours Mr. Bram Stoker came and had a look at us, and cheered our hearts -by telling us that tea would be served from the neighbouring saloon -(public-house). At last, at seven o’clock, we were rewarded for our -patience by getting seats in the front row. The play was superb, and the -audience—well, everyone looked as if he had done something.” - -[53] As an instance of the manager’s happy touch in a trifling matter, we -might name the State trumpets constantly “blaring” and sounding as the -King approached, which offered nothing of the usual “super” arrangement. -The men seemed to tramp along the street as though conscious of their own -dignity, warning those whom it might concern to make way for their high -and puissant lord. - -[54] It was publicly stated that the “mounting” of this play had cost -£15,000, and that the weekly expenses were some £800. The manager wrote -to contradict this, as being altogether beyond the truth; though, he -added, with a sigh, as it were, that he heartily wished the second -statement were true, and that the expenses could be put at so low a -figure. - -[55] According to one writer, “an emissary was sent to Rome to acquire -a Cardinal’s robe. After some time a friend managed to secure one of -the very period, whereupon an exact copy, ‘both of colour and texture,’ -was made. A price has to be paid for scenic splendours in the shape of -the delays that they necessarily occasion. Thanks to the ingenuity of -stage-carpenters and machinists, these delays at the Lyceum are reduced -to a minimum time. ‘Henry VIII.’ being not one of the longest of the -plays—though it is one-third longer than ‘Macbeth’—the text at the Lyceum -has been treated with comparative leniency. ‘Hamlet,’ on the other -hand, which comprises nearly four thousand lines, cannot on the modern -system of sumptuous mounting possibly be given in anything approaching -its entirety.” As a fact, very nearly one-half the play disappears -from the modern acting copies. My friend Mr. W. Pollock, in a paper in -the _National Review_, has justly urged in this connection that half a -‘Hamlet’ is better than no ‘Hamlet’ at all. - -[56] To illustrate his most recent productions, the manager is accustomed -to issue what is called “a souvenir,” an artistic series of pictures of -the scenes, groupings, etc. It may be added, as a proof of the pictorial -interest of the Lyceum productions, that in little more than a week -after the first performance of ‘Becket’ no fewer than five-and-twenty -illustrations, some of great pretension, had appeared in the papers. -On the first night of ‘Lear’ a marchioness of artistic tastes was seen -making sketches, which were published in an evening paper. - -[57] One touch, which might escape the superficial, showed the fine, -delicate sense of the manager. The scene where Kent is exhibited in the -stocks has always suggested something grotesque and prosaic. It was here -so dignified in its treatment as to become almost pathetic. I may add -here that the deepest strokes of Shakespeare, not being on the surface, -are apt to escape us altogether, save when some inspired critic lays his -finger on them. The faithful Kent at the close is brought to his master’s -notice, who does not recognise him. Here Lamb points out how noble is -Kent’s self-sacrifice in not bringing himself to the King’s recollection. - -[58] On March 18, 1893, Irving and his whole company were bidden to -Windsor Castle to play ‘Becket’ before her Majesty. A theatre was fitted -up in the Waterloo Chamber; special scenery was painted; the Lyceum was -closed; and the company, 170 strong, was transported to Windsor and -brought back on the same night. The performance was given with much -effect and to the enjoyment of the Queen. Some three or four years -before, a no less interesting entertainment was arranged at Sandringham -by the Prince of Wales, who was anxious that her Majesty should see the -two favourite performers in their most effective pieces—‘The Bells’ -and the “Trial scene” in ‘The Merchant of Venice,’ The outlay of time, -trouble, and skilful management to provide for all the arrangements -within a short space of time can scarcely be imagined. The pecuniary -cost, owing to the closing of the theatre, transport, etc., was serious. - -[59] An Irving “Bibliography” would fill many columns, and would -include a vast quantity of controversial writing—attacks, defences, -and discussions. Besides his official discourses, he has written many -agreeable papers in the leading “monthlies.” I have already spoken of -the “skits” and personalities which followed his early successes, and -which he encountered with excellent temper and a patient shrug. These -have long since been forgotten. At attempts at “taking him off,” though a -favourite pastime, he could afford to smile; though when it was carried -beyond legitimate bounds, as in the instance of the late Mr. Leslie, he -interposed with quiet firmness, and put it down in the interests of the -profession. An American burlesque actor, named Dixie, with execrable -taste gave an imitation of him in his presence. More curious is the -unconscious imitation of him which is gaining in the ranks of the -profession, and which has had some droll results. Thus one Hudson—when -playing the Tetrarch in ‘Claudian’ in the States—was so strangely like -him in manner and speech, that it was assumed by the American audience -that he was maliciously “taking him off.” His own company have caught up -most of his “ways” and fashions—notably Haviland, and even Alexander. -At the opening of ‘Vanderdecken,’ two at least of the performers were -mistaken for him—from their walk—and had a “reception” accordingly. - -[60] This “triple bill” is an unmeaning term, for a triple bill means, if -anything, three bills in one, and not, as is supposed, a single bill in -three parts. - -[61] In this connection there is a characteristic story told of our -actor. He was driving in a hansom one night to the Lyceum when the -‘Merchant of Venice’ was running. In a fit of absence of mind he tendered -a shilling for his fare, whereas it should have been eighteenpence or -two shillings. Whereupon the cabby, who had recognised his man, burst -out: “If yer plays the Jew inside that theayter as well as yer does -outside, darned if I won’t spend this bob on coming to see yer.” It is -said he was so delighted with the retort that he promptly gave the man -half-a-sovereign. - - - - -BOOKS BY PERCY FITZGERALD. - - -THE SAVOY OPERA. - - With 60 Illustrations and Portraits. Crown 8vo., cloth extra, - 3s. 6d. - -THE WORLD BEHIND THE SCENES. - - Crown 8vo., cloth extra, 3s. 6d. - -LITTLE ESSAYS. - - SELECTIONS FROM THE LETTERS OF CHARLES LAMB. Post 8vo., cloth - limp, 2s. 6d. - -A DAY’S TOUR: - - A JOURNEY THROUGH FRANCE AND BELGIUM. With facsimile Sketches. - Crown 4to., picture cover, 1s. - -LIFE OF JAMES BOSWELL (OF AUCHINLECK). - - With an Account of his Sayings, Doings, and Writings; and Four - Portraits. Two vols., demy 8vo., cloth extra, 24s. - -FATAL ZERO: - - A NOVEL. Crown 8vo., cloth extra, 3s. 6d.; post 8vo., - illustrated boards, 2s. - -Post 8vo., illustrated boards, 2s. each. - - BELLA DONNA. - NEVER FORGOTTEN. - THE SECOND MRS. TILLOTSON. - SEVENTY-FIVE BROOKE STREET. - POLLY. - THE LADY OF BRANTOME. - -LONDON: CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIR HENRY IRVING--A RECORD OF OVER -TWENTY YEARS AT THE LYCEUM *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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