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diff --git a/old/64575-h/64575-h.htm b/old/64575-h/64575-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 4a21d22..0000000 --- a/old/64575-h/64575-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8290 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Sir Henry Irving, by Percy Fitzgerald, M.A. - </title> - - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - -<style type="text/css"> - -a { - text-decoration: none; -} - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -h1,h2 { - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -h2.nobreak { - page-break-before: avoid; -} - -hr.chap { - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - clear: both; - width: 65%; - margin-left: 17.5%; - margin-right: 17.5%; -} - -div.chapter { - page-break-before: always; -} - -p { - margin-top: 0.5em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: 0.5em; - text-indent: 1em; -} - -table { - margin: 1em auto 1em auto; - max-width: 30em; - border-collapse: collapse; -} - -td { - padding-left: 2.25em; - padding-right: 0.25em; - vertical-align: top; - text-indent: -2em; - text-align: justify; -} - -.tdc { - text-align: center; - padding-top: 1em; - padding-bottom: 0.5em; -} - -.tdpg { - vertical-align: bottom; - text-align: right; -} - -.ad { - margin: auto; - max-width: 30em; -} - -.blockquote { - margin: 1.5em 10%; -} - -.center { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; -} - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -.footnotes { - margin-top: 1em; - border: dashed 1px; -} - -.footnote { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; - font-size: 0.9em; -} - -.footnote .label { - position: absolute; - right: 84%; - text-align: right; -} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: super; - font-size: .8em; - text-decoration: none; -} - -.hanging { - padding-left: 2em; - text-indent: -2em; -} - -.larger { - font-size: 150%; -} - -.noindent { - text-indent: 0em; -} - -.pagenum { - position: absolute; - right: 4%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; -} - -.poetry-container { - text-align: center; - margin: 1em; -} - -.poetry { - display: inline-block; - text-align: left; -} - -.poetry .stanza { - margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; -} - -.poetry .verse { - padding-left: 3em; -} - -.poetry .indent0 { - text-indent: -3em; -} - -.poetry .indent10 { - text-indent: 2em; -} - -.poetry .indent18 { - text-indent: 6em; -} - -.poetry .indent22 { - text-indent: 8em; -} - -.right { - text-align: right; -} - -.smaller { - font-size: 80%; -} - -.smcap { - font-variant: small-caps; - font-style: normal; -} - -.tb { - margin-top: 2em; -} - -.titlepage { - text-align: center; - margin-top: 3em; - text-indent: 0em; -} - -@media handheld { - -img { - max-width: 100%; - width: auto; - height: auto; -} - -.poetry { - display: block; - margin-left: 1.5em; -} - -.blockquote { - margin: 1.5em 5%; -} -} - </style> - </head> -<body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Sir Henry Irving--A record of over Twenty Years at the Lyceum, by Percy Hetherington Fitzgerald</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Sir Henry Irving--A record of over Twenty Years at the Lyceum</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Percy Hetherington Fitzgerald</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: February 16, 2021 [eBook #64575]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: MFR and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIR HENRY IRVING--A RECORD OF OVER TWENTY YEARS AT THE LYCEUM ***</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_i">[i]</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 475px;"> -<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="475" height="700" alt="" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p class="titlepage larger">SIR HENRY IRVING</p> - -<p class="center">A RECORD OF OVER TWENTY YEARS -AT THE LYCEUM</p> - -<p class="titlepage"><span class="smaller">BY</span><br /> -PERCY FITZGERALD, M.A.<br /> -<span class="smaller">AUTHOR OF<br /> -“THE LIFE OF GARRICK,” “THE KEMBLES,” “ART OF THE STAGE,” ETC.</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“As in a theatre the eyes of men,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">After a well-grac’d actor leaves the stage,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Are idly bent on him that enters next.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="titlepage"><i>A NEW EDITION, REVISED<br /> -WITH AN ADDITIONAL CHAPTER</i></p> - -<p class="titlepage">LONDON<br /> -CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY<br /> -1895</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iii">[iii]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">PREFACE.</h2> - -</div> - -<p>One attraction in the life of an actor who has fought his -way, and triumphed over many difficulties, in his struggles to -eminence, is found in the spirit of adventure which nearly always -marks his course. Such a story must be always gratifying and -encouraging to read; and we follow it now with sympathy, now -with admiration. Nor is it without gratification for the actor -himself, who must look back with complacency to troubles -surmounted, and to habits of patience and discipline acquired. -In this severe and trying school he may acquire the practical -virtues of resignation, courage, perseverance, and the art of -confronting difficulties. Even at the present moment, when -the stage is presumed to be more flourishing than at any former -period, the element of precariousness is more present than -ever. Everything seems a lottery—theatres, pieces, actors. -A theatre has gained a high reputation with one or two successful -pieces: of a sudden the newest play fails—or “falls,” -as the French have it—to be succeeded by another, and yet -another: each failing or “falling,” and seeming to prove that, -if nothing succeeds like success, nothing fails like failure.</p> - -<p>There is a spectacle often witnessed in the manufacturing -counties, when we may be standing waiting in one of the -great stations, which leaves a melancholy impression. A huge<span class="pagenum" id="Page_iv">[iv]</span> -theatrical train containing one of the travelling companies -comes up and thunders through. Here is the “Pullman Car,” -in which the performers are seen playing cards, or chatting, -or lunching. They have their pets with them—parrots, dogs, -etc. It suggests luxury and prosperity. But this ease is dearly -purchased, for we know that the performer has bound himself -in a sort of slavery, and has consented to forego all the legitimate -methods of learning his profession. He belongs to some -peripatetic company, a “travelling” one, or to one of the -innumerable bands who take round a single play, for years, it -may be; and in it he must play his single character over and -over again. Hence, he must learn—nay, is compelled to play—every -character in the same fashion, for he knows no other -method. His wage is modest, but constant; but he can never -rise higher, and if he lose his place it will be difficult for him -to find another. It will be interesting to see what a contrast -this system offers to the course of our cultured actors, who -have endured the iron training and discipline of the old school; -and in this view we shall follow the adventurous career of the -popular Henry Irving, admittedly the foremost of our performers. -In his instance we shall see how the struggle, so -manfully sustained, became an invariable <em>discipline</em>, slowly -forming the character which has made him an interesting figure -on which the eyes of his countrymen rest with pleasure: and -developing, as I have said, the heroic qualities of patience, -resolution, and perseverance.</p> - -<p>At the same time, I do not profess to set forth in these -pages what is called “a biography” of the actor. But this -seems a fitting moment for presenting a review of his artistic, -laborious work at the Lyceum Theatre, during a period of over -twenty years. Having known the actor from the very commencement -of his career; having seen him in all his characters; -having written contemporaneous criticisms of these performances—I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_v">[v]</span> -may be thought to be at least fairly qualified for -undertaking such a task. I possess, moreover, a vast collection -of what may be called <i lang="fr">pièces justificatifs</i>, which includes almost -everything that has been written of him. It will be seen that -the tone adopted is an independent one, and I have freely -and fairly discussed Sir Henry Irving’s merits, both real and -imputed. Where praise is undiscriminating, there is no praise. -I have also dealt with many interesting “open questions,” as -they may be called, connected with theatrical management and -the “art of the stage.” I may add that in this new edition I -have added many particulars which will be found interesting, -and have brought the story down to the present moment.</p> - -<p class="hanging"><span class="smcap">Athenæum Club</span>,<br /> -<i>July, 1895</i>.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">[vii]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS.</h2> - -</div> - -<table summary="Contents"> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td class="tdpg smaller">PAGE</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER I.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>SCHOOL-DAYS—EARLY TASTE FOR THE STAGE—FIRST APPEARANCE (1838-1856)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">1</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER II.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>EDINBURGH AND THE SCOTTISH THEATRES (1857-1859)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">6</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER III.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>THE ST. JAMES’S THEATRE—‘HUNTED DOWN’—THE NEW VAUDEVILLE THEATRE—‘THE TWO ROSES’ (1866)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">23</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER IV.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>‘THE BELLS’—WILLS’S ‘CHARLES I.’ (1871)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">31</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER V.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>‘HAMLET’—‘OTHELLO’—‘MACBETH’—DEATH OF ‘THE COLONEL’—‘QUEEN MARY’ (1874)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">38</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER VI.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>THE NEW MANAGER OF THE LYCEUM—MISS TERRY—HIS SYSTEM AND ASSISTANTS (1878)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">50</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER VII.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>‘THE MERCHANT OF VENICE’ (1879)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">64</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER VIII.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>‘THE CORSICAN BROTHERS’ AND ‘THE CUP’ (1880)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">69</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">[viii]</span>CHAPTER IX.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>‘OTHELLO’ AND ‘THE TWO ROSES’ REVIVED (1881)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">76</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER X.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>‘ROMEO AND JULIET’—THE BANQUET (1882)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">85</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER XI.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>‘MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING’—AMERICAN VISIT ARRANGED (1882)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">88</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER XII.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>‘TWELFTH NIGHT’—‘THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD’—OXFORD HONOURS (1884)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">96</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER XIII.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>‘FAUST’—‘WERNER’—‘MACAIRE’—THE ACTOR’S SOCIAL GIFTS (1887)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">111</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER XIV.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>‘MACBETH’—‘THE DEAD HEART’—‘RAVENSWOOD’ (1888)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">119</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER XV.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>‘KING LEAR’—‘BECKET’ (1892)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">131</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER XVI.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>‘KING ARTHUR’—CORPORAL BREWSTER—HONOURS (1893)</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">138</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdc">CHAPTER XVII.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>L’ENVOI</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">143</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[1]</span></p> - -<h1>SIR HENRY IRVING</h1> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1838-1856.<br /> -SCHOOL-DAYS—EARLY TASTE FOR THE STAGE—FIRST APPEARANCE.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>Henry Irving was born at Keinton, near Glastonbury, in -Somersetshire, on February 6, 1838. His real name was John -Henry Brodribb. “The last place God made” has been the -description given of this little town—Keinton-Mandeville—which -lies near Glastonbury. The house in which the future -actor was born is still pointed out—a small two-storied dwelling, -of a poorish sort.</p> - -<p>Henry Irving’s mother was Sarah Behenna, a woman of -strong, marked character, who early took the child into Cornwall -to her sister Penberthy. Thus was he among the miners -and mining captains in a district “stern and wild,” where -lessons of dogged toil and perseverance were to be learned. -The earliest books he read were his Bible, some old English -ballads, and “Don Quixote,” a character which he had long -had a fancy for performing. In an intimate <i lang="fr">causerie</i> with his -and my friend Joseph Hatton, he was induced to stray back to -these early days of childhood, when he called up some striking -scenes of those old mining associations. This aunt Penberthy -was a resolute, striking woman, firm and even grim of purpose, -and the scenes in which she figured have a strong flavour, as -Mr. Hatton suggests, of Currer Bell’s stories.</p> - -<p>He was early sent to a school then directed by Dr. Pinches, -in George Yard, Lombard Street, close by the George and -Vulture, which still happily stands, and where Mr. Pickwick -always put up when he was in town. At this academy, on some<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[2]</span> -exhibition day, he proposed to recite a rather gruesome piece -called “The Uncle,” to which his preceptor strongly objected, -when he substituted the more orthodox “Defence of Hamilton -Rowan,” by Curran.</p> - -<p>More than thirty years later, when the boy had become -famous, and was giving a benefit at his own theatre to a veteran -player—Mr. Creswick—the latter, coming before the curtain, -related to the audience this little anecdote. “I was once,” he -said, “invited to hear some schoolboys recite speeches previous -to their breaking up for the holidays. The schoolmaster was -an old friend of mine, whom I very much respected. The -room was filled from wall to wall with the parents and friends -of the pupils. I was not much entertained with the first part: -I must confess that I was a little bored; but suddenly there -came out a lad who at once struck me as being rather uncommon, -and he riveted my attention. The performance, I -think, was a scene from ‘Ion,’ in which he played Adrastus. I -well saw that he left his schoolfellows a long way behind. -That schoolboy was Master Henry Irving. Seeing that he -had dramatic aptitude, I gave him a word of encouragement, -perhaps the first he had ever received, and certainly the first he -had received from one in the dramatic profession, to which he -is now a distinguished honour.” The late Solicitor-General, -Sir Edward Clarke, who was sent to the school after Irving left -it, long after made humorous complaint at a Theatrical Fund -dinner that, on exhibiting his own powers at the same school, -he used to be regularly told, “Very good—very fair; but you -should have heard Irving do it.”</p> - -<p>On leaving the school, it was determined that the future -actor should adopt a commercial career, and he was placed in -the offices of Messrs. Thacker, “Indian merchants in Newgate -Street.” He was then about fourteen, and remained in the -house four years.</p> - -<p>But his eyes were even now straying from his desk to the -stage. He was constantly reading plays and poetry, and seeking -opportunity for practice in the art in which he felt he was -destined so to excel.</p> - -<p>At this time, about 1853, the late Mr. Phelps’ intelligent -efforts, and the admirable style in which he presented classical -dramas, excited abundant interest and even enthusiasm among -young men. Many now look back with pleasure to their -pilgrimages to the far-off Sadler’s Wells Theatre, where such an -intellectual entertainment was provided and sustained with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span> -admirable taste for many seasons. What was called “The -Elocution Class” was one of the results. It was directed by -Mr. Henry Thomas with much intelligence; his system was -to encourage his pupils to recite pieces of their own selection, -on which the criticisms of the listeners were freely given -and invited. “On one evening,” says one of Irving’s old -class-fellows, “a youth presented himself as a new member. -He was rather tall for his age, dressed in a black suit, with -what is called a round jacket, and a deep white linen collar -turned over it. His face was very handsome, with a mass of -black hair, and eyes bright and flashing with intelligence. He -was called on for his first recitation, and fairly electrified the -audience with an unusual display of elocutionary and dramatic -intensity.” The new member was Henry Irving. By-and-by -the elocution class was moved to the Sussex Hall, in Leadenhall -Street, when something more ambitious was attempted in the -shape of regular dramatic performances. The pieces were -chiefly farces, such as ‘Boots at the Swan,’ or ‘Little Toddlekins,’ -though more serious plays were performed. It was -remarked that the young performer was invariably perfect in his -“words.” In spite of his youth he gave great effect to such -characters as Wilford in ‘The Iron Chest,’ and others of a -melodramatic cast. A still more ambitious effort was Tobin’s -‘Honeymoon,’ given at the little Soho Theatre with full -accompaniments of scenery, dresses, and decoration; and here -the young aspirant won great applause.</p> - -<p>It was to be expected that this success and these associations -should more and more encourage him in his desire of adopting -a profession to which he felt irresistibly drawn. He was, of -course, a visitor to the theatres, and still recalls the extraordinary -impression left upon him by Mr. Phelps’ performances. -In everyone’s experience is found one of these “epoch-making” -incidents, which have an influence we are often scarcely conscious -of; and every thinking person knows the value of such -“turning-points” in music or literature. The young man’s -taste was no caprice, or stage-struck fancy; he tried his powers -deliberately; and before going to see a play would exercise -himself in regular study of its parts, attempting to lay out the -action, business, etc., according to his ideas. Many years later -in America, he said that when he was a youth he never went -to a theatre except to see a Shakespearian play—except, in fact, -for instruction.</p> - -<p>At Sadler’s Wells there was a painstaking actor called<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span> -Hoskins, who was attracted by the young fellow’s enthusiasm -and conscientious spirit, and who agreed to give him a few -lessons in his art. These were fixed for eight o’clock in the -morning, so as not to interfere with commercial business. -Hoskins introduced him to Phelps, who listened to his efforts -with some of that gnarled impassibility which was characteristic -of him; then, in his blunt, good-natured way, gave him this -advice: “Young man, have nothing to do with the stage; <em>it -is a bad profession</em>!”</p> - -<p>Such, indeed, is the kindest counsel that could be given to -nine-tenths of the postulants of our time. Their wish is to -“go on the stage”—a different thing from the wish to become -an actor. The manager had nothing before him to show that -there were here present the necessary gifts of perseverance, -study, and intelligence. Struck, however, by his earnestness, -he proposed to give him an engagement of a very trifling kind, -which the young man, after deliberation, declined, on the -ground that it would not afford him opportunities of thoroughly -learning his profession. The good-natured Hoskins, who was -himself leaving the theatre to go to Australia, gave him a letter -to a manager, with these words: “You will go on the stage; -when you want an engagement present that letter, and you will -obtain one.” He, indeed, tried to induce him to join him on -his tours, but the offer was declined.</p> - -<p>His mother, however, could not reconcile herself to his -taking so serious a step as “going on the stage.” “I used -frequently,” writes his companion at the elocution class, “to -visit at her house to rehearse the scenes in which John and I -were to act together. I remember her as being rather tall, -somewhat stately, and very gentle. On one occasion she -begged me very earnestly to dissuade him from thinking of the -stage as a profession; and having read much of the vicissitudes -of actors’ lives, their hardships, and the precariousness of -their work, I did my best to impress this view upon him.” But -it is ever idle thus striving to hinder a child’s purpose when -it has been deliberately adopted.</p> - -<p>Having come to this resolution, he applied earnestly to the -task of preparing himself for his profession. He learned a vast -number of characters; studied, and practised; even took -lessons in fencing, attending twice a week at a school-of-arms -in Chancery Lane. This accomplishment, often thought -trifling, was once an important branch of an actor’s education; -it supplies an elegance of movement and bearing.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span></p> - -<p>“The die being now cast,” according to the accepted expression, -John Brodribb, who had now become Henry Irving, -bade adieu to his desk, and bethinking him of the Hoskins -letter, applied to Mr. Davis, a country manager, who had just -completed the building of a new theatre at Sunderland. With -a slender stock of money he set off for that town. By an odd -coincidence the name of the new house was the Lyceum. The -play appointed was ‘Richelieu,’ and the opening night was -fixed for September 29, 1856. The young actor was cast for -the part of the Duke of Orleans, and had to speak the opening -words of the piece.</p> - -<p>Mr. Alfred Davis, a well-known provincial actor, and son of -the northern manager, used often to recall the circumstances -attending Irving’s “first appearance on any stage.” “The new -theatre,” he says, “was opened in September, 1856, and on -the 29th of that month we started. For months previously -a small army of scenic artists had been at work. Carpenters, -property-makers, and, of course, <i lang="fr">costumiers</i>, had been working -night and day, and everything was, as far as could be foreseen, -ready and perfect. Among the names of a carefully-selected -<i lang="fr">corps dramatique</i> were those of our old friend Sam Johnson (now -of the Lyceum Theatre, London); George Orvell (real name, -Frederick Kempster); Miss Ely Loveday (sister of H. J. Loveday, -the present genial and much-respected stage-manager of -the Lyceum), afterwards married to Mr. Kempster; and a -youthful novice, just eighteen, called Henry Irving. Making -his first appearance, he spoke the first word in the first piece -(played for the first time in the town, I believe), on the first or -opening night of the new theatre. The words of the speech -itself, ‘<em>Here’s to our enterprise!</em>’ had in them almost a prophetic -tone of aspiration and success. So busy was I in front -and behind the scenes, that I was barely able to reach my -place on the stage in time for the rising of the curtain. I kept -my back to the audience till my cue to speak was given, all the -while buttoning up, tying, and finishing my dressing generally, -so that scant attention would be given to others. But even -under these circumstances I was compelled to notice, and with -perfect appreciation, the great and most minute care which had -been bestowed by our aspirant on the completion of his -costume. In those days managers provided the mere dress. -Accessories, or ‘properties’ as they were called, were found -by every actor. Henry Irving was, from his splendid white -hat and feathers to the tips of his shoes, a perfect picture; and,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span> -no doubt, had borrowed his authority from some historical -picture of the Louis XIII. period.”</p> - -<p>“The impersonation,” as the neophyte related it long afterwards, -“was not a success. I was nervous, and suffered from -stage fright. My second appearance as Cleomenes in ‘A -Winter’s Tale’ was even more disheartening, as in Act V. I -entirely forgot my lines, and abruptly quitted the scene, putting -out all the other actors. My manager, however, put down my -failure to right causes, and instead of dispensing with my -services, gave me some strong and practical advice.”</p> - -<p>All which is dramatic enough, and gives us a glimpse of the -good old provincial stage life. That touch of encouragement -instead of dismissal is significant of the fair, honest system -which then obtained in this useful training school.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1857-1859.<br /> -EDINBURGH AND THE SCOTTISH THEATRES.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>At the Sunderland Theatre he remained only four months, and -though the manager pressed him to stay with him, the young -actor felt that here he had not the opportunities he desired. -He accordingly accepted an engagement at the Edinburgh -Theatre, which began on February 9, 1857.</p> - -<p>Among the faces that used to be familiar at any “first night” -at the Lyceum were those of Mr. Robert Wyndham and his -wife. There is something romantic in the thought that these -guests of the London manager and actor in the height of his -success and prosperity should have been the early patrons of -the unfriended provincial player. Mr. Wyndham was one of -the successors of that sagacious Murray to whom the Edinburgh -stage owes so much that is respectable. Here our actor remained -for two years and a half, enjoying the benefits of that -admirable, useful discipline, by which alone a knowledge of -acting is to be acquired—viz., a varied practice in a vast round -of characters. This experience, though acquired in a hurried -and perfunctory fashion, is of enormous value in the way of -training. The player is thus introduced to every shade and -form of character, and can practise himself in all the methods<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span> -of expression. Now that provincial theatres are abolished, -and have given place to the “travelling companies,” the actor -has few opportunities of learning his business, and one result -is a “thinness” or meagreness of interpretation. In this -Edinburgh school our actor performed “a round,” as it is -called, of no fewer than three hundred and fifty characters! -This seems amazing. It is, in truth, an extraordinary list, -ranging over every sort of minor character.</p> - -<p>He here also enjoyed opportunities of performing with famous -“stars” who came round the provinces, Miss Ellen Faucit, -Mrs. Stirling, Vandenhoff, Charles Dillon, Madame Celeste, -“Ben” Webster, Robson, the facetious Wright, the buoyant -Charles Mathews, his life-long friend Toole, of “incompressible -humour,” and the American, Miss Cushman.<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> This, it -is clear, was a period of useful drudgery, but in it he found -his account. The company visited various Scotch towns, which -the actor has described pleasantly enough in what might seem -an extract from one of the old theatrical memoirs. He had -always a vein of quiet humour, the more agreeable because it is -unpretending and without effort.</p> - -<p>It would be difficult to give an idea of the prodigious labour -which this earnest, resolute young man underwent while struggling -to “learn his profession” in the most thorough way. -The iron discipline of the theatre favoured his efforts, and its<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span> -calls on the exertions of the actor seem, nowadays, truly extraordinary. -In another laborious profession, the office of -“deviling” for a counsel in full practice, which entails painful -gratuitous drudgery, is welcomed as a privilege by any young -man who wishes to rise. A few of these Edinburgh bills are -now before me, and present nights of singularly hard work for -so young a man. We may wonder, too, at the audience which -could have stomach for so lengthy a programme. Thus, one -night, January 7, 1858, when the pantomime was running, the -performances began with the pantomime of ‘Little Bo-Peep,’ -in which we find our hero as Scruncher, “the Captain of the -Wolves.” After the pantomime came ‘The Middy Ashore,’ in -which he was Tonnish, “an exquisite,” concluding with ‘The -Wandering Boys,’ in which we again find him as Gregoire, -“confidential servant to the Countess Croissey.” We find -him nearly always in three pieces of a night, and he seems, in -pieces of a light sort, to have been “cast” for the gentlemanly -captain of the “walking” sort; in more serious ones, for the -melodramatic and dignified characters. In ‘Nicholas Nickleby’ -he was the hero; and also Jack Wind, the boatswain, the chief -mutineer, in ‘Robinson Crusoe.’ In the course of this season -Toole and Miss Louisa Keeley came to the theatre, when Irving -opened the night as the Marquis de Cevennes in ‘Plot and -Passion,’ next appearing in the “laughable farce” (and it <em>is</em> one, -albeit old-fashioned), ‘The Loan of a Lover,’ in which he was -Amersfort, and finally playing Leeford, “Brownlow’s nephew,” -in ‘Oliver Twist.’</p> - -<p>The young man, full of hope and resolution, went cheerfully -through these labours, though “my name,” as he himself tells -us, “continued to occupy a useful but obscure position in the -playbill, and nothing occurred to suggest to the manager the -propriety of doubling my salary, though he took care to assure -me I was ‘made to rise.’” This salary was the modest one of -thirty shillings a week, then the usual one for what was termed -“juvenile lead.” The old classification, “walking lady,” “singing -chambermaid,” “heavy father,” etc., will have soon altogether -disappeared, simply because the round of characters that engendered -it has disappeared. Now the manager selects, at his -goodwill and pleasure, anybody, in or out of his company, who -he thinks will best suit the character.</p> - -<p>As Mr. Wyndham informs me: “During the short period he -was under our management, both Mrs. Wyndham and myself -took a most lively interest in his promotion, for he was always<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span> -perfect, and any character, however small, he might have been -called upon to represent, was in itself a study; and I believe -he would have sacrificed a week’s salary—a small affair, by the -way—to exactly look like the character he was about to portray.”</p> - -<p>Of these old Edinburgh days Irving always thought fondly. -At the Scottish capital he is now welcomed with an affectionate -sympathy; and the various intellectual societies of the city—Philosophical -and others—are ever glad to receive instruction -and entertainment from his lips. In November, 1891, when he -was visiting the Students’ Union Dramatic Society, he told them -that some thirty years before “he was member of a University -there—the old Theatre Royal. There he had studied for two -years and a half his beautiful art, and there he learnt the lesson -that they would all learn, that—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“‘Deep the oak must sink its roots in earth obscure,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That hopes to lift its branches to the sky.’”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>In some of his later speeches “of occasion” he has scattered -little autobiographical touches that are not without interest. -On one occasion he recalled how he was once summoned over -to Dublin to supply the place of another actor at the Queen’s -Theatre, then under the direction of two “manager-twins,” the -Brothers Webb. The Queen’s was but a small house, conducted -on old-fashioned principles, and had a rather turbulent -audience. When the actor made his appearance he was, to -his astonishment, greeted with yells, general anger, and disapprobation. -This was to be his reception throughout the whole -engagement, which was luckily not a long one. He, however, -stuck gallantly to his post, and sustained his part with courage. -He described the manager as perpetually making “alarums and -excursions” in front of the curtain to expostulate with the -audience. These “Brothers Webb, who had found their twinship -profitable in playing the ‘Dromios,’ were worthy actors -enough, and much respected in their profession; they had -that marked individuality of character now so rarely found on -the boards. Having discovered, at last, what his offence was, -viz., the taking the place of a dismissed actor—an unconscious -exercise of a form of ‘land-grabbing’—his placid good-humour -gradually made its way, and before the close of the engagement -he had, according to the correct theatrical phrase, ‘won golden -opinions.’”</p> - -<p>At the close of the season—in May, 1859—the Edinburgh -company set out on its travels, visiting various Scotch provincial<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span> -towns. During this peregrination, when at Dundee, -the idea occurred to him and a brother-player of venturing “a -reading” in the neighbouring town of Linlithgow. This adventure -he has himself related in print. Our actor has an -agreeable vein of narrative, marked by a quiet, rather placid -humour, which is also found in his occasional speeches. The -charm and secret of this is the absence of affectation or -pretence; a talisman ever certain to win listeners and readers. -Taking his friend, who was Mr. Saker, into his confidence, he -proceeded to arrange the scheme. But he shall tell the story -himself:</p> - -<p>“I had been about two years upon the stage, and was fulfilling -my first engagement at Edinburgh. Like all young men, -I was full of hope. It happened to be vacation time—‘preaching -week,’ as it is called in Scotland—and it struck me that I -might turn my leisure to account by giving a reading. I imparted -this project to another member of the company, who -entered into it with enthusiasm. He, too, was young and -ambitious. I promised him half the profits.</p> - -<p>“Having arranged the financial details, we came to the -secondary question—Where was the reading to be given? It -would scarcely do in Edinburgh; the public there had too -many other matters to think about. Linlithgow was a likely -place. My friend accordingly paid several visits to Linlithgow, -engaged the town-hall, ordered the posters, and came back -every time full of confidence. Meanwhile, I was absorbed in -the ‘Lady of Lyons,’ which, being the play that most charmed -the fancy of a young actor, I had decided to read; and day -after day, perched on Arthur’s Seat, I worked myself into a -romantic fever. The day came, and we arrived at Linlithgow -in high spirits. I felt a thrill of pride at seeing my name for -the first time in big capitals on the posters, which announced -that at ‘eight o’clock precisely Mr. Henry Irving would read -the “Lady of Lyons.”’ At the hotel we eagerly questioned -our waiter as to the probability of there being a great rush. He -pondered some time; but we could get no other answer out of -him than ‘Nane can tell.’ ‘Did he think there would be fifty -people there?’ ‘<em>Nane can tell.</em>’</p> - -<p>“Eight o’clock drew near, and we sallied out to survey the -scene of operations. The crowd had not yet begun to collect -in front of the town-hall, and the man who had undertaken to -be there with the key was not visible. As it was getting late, -we went in search of the doorkeeper. He was quietly reposing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span> -in the bosom of his family, and to our remonstrance replied, -‘Ou, ay, the reading! I forgot all aboot it.’ This was not -inspiriting.</p> - -<p>“The door was opened, the gas was lighted, and my manager -made the most elaborate preparations for taking the money. -While he was thus energetically applying himself to business, I -was strolling like a casual spectator on the other side of the -street, taking some last feverish glances at the play, and -anxiously watching for the first symptoms of ‘the rush.’</p> - -<p>“The time wore on. The town clock struck eight, and still -there was no sign of ‘the rush.’ Half-past eight, and not a -soul to be seen—not even a small boy! I could not read the -‘Lady of Lyons’ to an audience consisting of the manager, -with a face as long as two tragedies, so there was nothing for it -but to beat a retreat. No one came out even to witness our -discomfiture. Linlithgow could not have taken the trouble to -study the posters, which now seemed such horrid mockeries in -our eyes.</p> - -<p>“We managed to scrape together enough money to pay the -expenses, which operation was a sore trial to my speculative -manager, and a pretty severe tax upon the emoluments of the -‘juvenile lead.’ We returned to Edinburgh the same night, -and on the journey, by way of showing that I was not at all -cast down, I favoured my manager with selections from the -play, which he good-humouredly tolerated.</p> - -<p>“This incident was vividly revived last year, as I passed -through Linlithgow on my way from Edinburgh to Glasgow, in -which cities I gave, in conjunction with my friend Toole, two -readings on behalf of the sufferers by the bank failure, which -produced a large sum of money. My companion in the Linlithgow -expedition was Mr. Edward Saker—now one of the -most popular managers in the provinces.”</p> - -<p>In March, 1859, we find our actor at the old Surrey Theatre, -playing under Mr. Shepherd and Mr. Creswick, for a “grand -week,” so it was announced, “of Shakespeare, and first-class -pieces; supported by Miss Elsworthy and Mr. Creswick, whose -immense success during the past week has been <em>rapturously -endorsed</em> by crowded and enthusiastic audiences.” “Rapturously -endorsed” is good. In ‘Macbeth’ we find Irving fitted -with the modest part of Siward, and this only for the first three -nights in the week. There was an after-piece, in which he had -no part, and ‘Money’ was given on the other nights.</p> - -<p>But he had now determined to quit Edinburgh, lured by the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span> -prospect of “a London engagement,” an <i lang="la">ignis fatuus</i> for many -an actor, who is too soon to find out that a London engagement -does not mean exactly a London success. In 1859 he -made his farewell appearance in ‘Claude Melnotte,’ and was -received in very cordial fashion. As he told the people of -Glasgow many years later, he ever thought gratefully of the -Scotch, as they were the first who gave him encouragement.</p> - -<p>Once when engaged at some country theatre in Scotland the -company were playing in ‘Cramond Brig,’ a good sound old -melodrama—of excellent humour, too. Years later, when the -prosperous manager and actor was directing the Lyceum, some -of the audience were surprised to find him disinterring this -ancient drama, and placing it at the opening of the night’s -performance. But I fancy it was the associations of this little -adventure that had given it a corner in his memory, and secured -for it a sort of vitality. Thus he tells the story:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“When the play was being rehearsed, our jolly manager said, -‘Now, boys, I shall stand a real supper to-night; no paste-board -and parsley, but a real sheep’s head, and a little drop of -real Scotch.’ A tumult of applause.</p> - -<p>“The manager was as good as his word, for at night there was -a real head well equipped with turnips and carrots, and the -‘drop of real Scotch.’ The ‘neighbour’s bairn,’ an important -character in the scene, came in and took her seat beside -the miller’s chair. She was a pretty, sad-eyed, intelligent child -of some nine years old. In the course of the meal, when Jock -Howison was freely passing the whisky, she leaned over to -him and said, ‘Please, will you give me a little?’ He looked -surprised. She was so earnest in her request, that I whispered -to her, ‘To-morrow, perhaps, if you want it very much, you -shall have a thimbleful.’</p> - -<p>“To-morrow night came, and, as the piece was going on, to -my amusement, she produced from the pocket of her little plaid -frock a bright piece of brass, and held it out to me. I said, -‘What’s this?’ ‘A thimble, sir.’ ‘But what am I to do -with it?’ ‘You said that you would give me a thimbleful of -whisky if I wanted it, and I do want it.’</p> - -<p>“This was said so naturally, that the audience laughed and -applauded. I looked over to the miller, and found him with -the butt-end of his knife and fork on the table, and his eyes -wide open, gazing at us in astonishment. However, we were -both experienced enough to pass off this unrehearsed effect as -a part of the piece. I filled the thimble, and the child took it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span> -back carefully to her little ‘creepy’ stool beside the miller. -I watched her, and presently saw her turn her back to the -audience and pour it into a little halfpenny tin snuff-box. -She covered the box with a bit of paper, and screwed on the -lid, thus making the box pretty watertight, and put it into her -pocket.</p> - -<p>“When the curtain fell, our manager came forward and patted -the child’s head. ‘Why, my little girl,’ said he, ‘you are -quite a genius. Your gag is the best thing in the piece. We -must have it in every night. But, my child, you mustn’t drink -the whisky. No, no! that would never do.’</p> - -<p>“‘Oh, sir, indeed I won’t; I give you my word I won’t!’ -she said quite earnestly, and ran to her dressing-room.</p> - -<p>“‘Cramond Brig’ had an unprecedented run of six nights, -and the little lady always got her thimbleful of whisky, and -her round of applause. And each time I noticed that she -corked up the former safely in the snuff-box. I was curious -as to what she could possibly want with the spirit, and who she -was, and where she came from. I asked her, but she seemed -so unwilling to tell, and turned so red, that I did not press her; -but I found out that it was the old story—no mother, and a -drunken father.</p> - -<p>“I took a fancy to the little thing, and wished to fathom her -secret, for a secret I felt sure there was. After the performance, -I saw my little body come out. Poor little child! there -was no mother or brother to see her to her home. She hurried -up the street, and turning into the poorest quarter of the town, -entered the common stair of a tumbledown old house. I -followed, feeling my way as best I could. She went up and -up, till in the very top flat she entered a little room. A handful -of fire glimmering in the grate revealed a sickly boy, some two -years her junior, who crawled towards her from where he was -lying before the fire.</p> - -<p>“‘Cissy, I’m glad you’re home,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d -never come.’</p> - -<p>“She put her arms round him, laid the poor little head on -her thin shoulder, and took him over to the fire again, trying -to comfort him as she went.</p> - -<p>“The girl leaned over and put her arms round him, and kissed -him; she then put her hand into her pocket and took out the -snuff-box.</p> - -<p>“‘Oh, Willie, I wish we had more, so that it might cure the -pain.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span></p> - -<p>“Having lighted a dip candle, she rubbed the child’s -rheumatic shoulder with the few drops of spirit, and then -covered up the little thin body, and, sitting before the fire, took -the boy’s head on her knee, and began to sing him to sleep.</p> - -<p>“I took another look into the room through the half-open -door; my foot creaked; the frightened eyes met mine. I put -my finger on my lips and crept away.</p> - -<p>“But as I began to descend the stair I met a drunken man -ascending—slipping and stumbling as he came. He slipped -and stumbled by me, and entered the room. I followed to -the landing unnoticed, and stood in the dark shadow of the -half-open door.</p> - -<p>“A hoarse, brutal voice growled: ‘What are you doing -there?—get up!’</p> - -<p>“‘I can’t, father; Willie’s head is on my knees.’</p> - -<p>“‘Get up!’</p> - -<p>“The girl bowed her head lower and lower.</p> - -<p>“I could not bear it. I entered the room. The brute was -on the bed already in his besotted sleep. The child stole up -to me, and in a half-frightened whisper said, ‘Oh, sir, oughtn’t -people to keep secrets, if they know them? I think they ought, -if they are other people’s.’ This with the dignity of a queen.</p> - -<p>“I could not gainsay her, so I said as gravely as I could to -the little woman, ‘The secret shall be kept, but you must ask -me if you want anything.’ She bent over, suddenly kissed my -hand, and I went down the stair.</p> - -<p>“The next night she was shy in coming for the whisky, and -I took care that she had good measure.</p> - -<p>“The last night of our long run of six nights she looked more -happy than I had ever seen her. When she came for the -whisky she held out the thimble, and whispered to me with -her poor, pale lips trembling, ‘You need only pretend to-night.’</p> - -<p>“‘Why?’ I whispered.</p> - -<p>“‘Because—he doesn’t want it now. He’s dead.’”</p> - -</div> - -<p>The London engagement was offered him by the late Mr. -A. Harris, then managing the Princess’s Theatre. It was for -three years. But when he arrived he found that the only -opening given him was a part of a few lines in a play called -‘Ivy Hall.’ As this meagre employment promised neither -improvement nor fame, he went to the manager and begged -his release. This he obtained, and courageously quitted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span> -London, determined not to return until he could claim a -respectable and conspicuous position. Thus we find him, -with perhaps a heavy heart, once more returning to the provinces, -just as Mrs. Siddons had to return to the same form -of drudgery after her failure at Drury Lane. Before leaving -London, that wholesome taste for appealing to the appreciation -of the judicious and intellectual portion of the community, -which has always been “a note” of his character, prompted -him to give two readings at the old palace of Crosby Hall. -In this he was encouraged by City friends and old companions, -who had faith in his powers. It was something to -make this exhibition under the roof-tree of that interesting old -pile, not yet “restored”; and the <i lang="fr">locale</i>, we may imagine, was -in harmony with his own refined tastes. He read the ‘Lady -of Lyons’ on December 19, 1859, and the somewhat artificial -‘Virginius’ on February 1, 1860. These performances were -received with favour, and were pronounced by the public -critics to show scholarly feeling and correct taste. “His conception -was good, his delivery clear and effective, and there -was a gentlemanly ease and grace in his manners which is -exceedingly pleasing to an audience.” One observer with -some prescience detected “the indefinite something which -incontestably and instantaneously shows that the fire of genius -is present.” Another pronounced “that he was likely to make -a name for himself.” At the last scenes between the hero and -Pauline, the listeners were much affected, and “in some parts -of the room sobs were heard.” Another judge opined that “if -he attempted a wider sphere of action,” he would have a most -successful career. This “wider sphere of action” he has since -“attempted,” but at that moment his eyes were strained, -wearily enough, looking for it. It lay before him in the weary -round of work in the provinces, to which, as we have seen, he -had now to return.</p> - -<p>I have before me a curious little criticism of this performance -taken from an old and long defunct journal that bore -the name of <cite>The Players</cite>, which will now be read with a curious -interest:</p> - -<p>“We all know the ‘Dramatic Reading.’ We have all—at -least, all who have served their apprenticeship to theatrical -amusements—suffered the terrible infliction of the Dramatic -Reader; but then with equal certainty we have all answered to -the next gentleman’s call of a ‘Night with Shakespeare, with -Readings, etc.,’ and have again undergone the insufferable<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span> -bore of hearing our dear old poet murdered by the aspiring -genius. Thinking somewhat as we have above written the -other evening, we wended our editorial way towards Crosby -Hall, where our informant ‘circular’ assured us Mr. Henry -Irving was about to read Bulwer’s ‘Lady of Lyons.’ We asked -ourselves, Who is Mr. Henry Irving? and memory, rushing to -some hidden cave in our mental structure, answered—Henry -Irving, oh! yes, to be sure; how stupid! We at once recollected -that Mr. Irving was a gentleman of considerable talent, and a -great favourite in the provinces. We have often seen his name -honourably figuring in the columns of our provincial contemporaries. -Now, we were most agreeably disappointed on this -present occasion; for instead of finding the usual conventional -respectable-looking ‘mediocrity,’ we were gratified by -hearing the poetical ‘Lady of Lyons’ poetically read by a -most accomplished elocutionist, who gave us not only words, -but that finer indefinite something which proves incontestably -and instantaneously that the fire of genius is present in the -artist. It would be out of place now to speak of the merits of -the piece selected by this gentleman, but the merits appeared -as striking and the demerits as little so as on any occasion of -the kind in our recollection. Claude’s picture of his imaginary -home was given with such poetic feeling as to elicit a loud -burst of approval from his hearers, as also many other passages -occurring in the play. The characters were well marked, -especially Beauseant and Madame Deschappelles, whilst the -little part of Glavis was very pleasingly given. Mr. Irving was -frequently interrupted by the applause of his numerous and -delighted audience, and at the conclusion was unanimously -called to receive their marks of approval.” It was at this interesting -performance that Mr. Toole, as he tells us, first met -his friend.</p> - -<p>A very monotonous feature in too many of the dramatic -memoirs is found in the record of dates, engagements, -and performances, which in many instances are the essence -of the whole. They are uninteresting to anyone save -perhaps to the hero himself. So in this record we shall -summarize such details as much as possible. Our actor went -straight to Glasgow, to Glover’s Theatre, whence he passed -to the Theatre Royal, Manchester, where he remained for -some four years, till June, 1865. Here he met fresh -histrionic friends, who “came round” the circuit in succession—such -as Edwin Booth, Sothern, Charles Mathews,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span> -G.V. Brooke, Miss Heath, and that versatile actor and dramatist -and manager, Dion Boucicault. Here he gradually gained a -position of respect—respect for his unfailing assiduity and -scrupulous conscientiousness, qualities which the public is -never slow to note. In many points he offers a suggestion of -Dickens, as in his purpose of doing whatever he attempted in the -very best way he could. There are other points, too, in which -the actor strongly recalls the novelist; the sympathetic interest -in all about him, the absence of affectation combined with -great talents, the aptitude for practical business, the knowledge -of character, the precious art of making friends, and the being -unspoiled by good fortune. Years later he recalled with grateful -pleasure the encouragement he had received here. And -his language is touching and betokens a sympathetic heart:</p> - -<p>“I lived here for five years, and wherever I look—to the -right or to the left, to the north or the south—I always find -some remembrance, some memento of those five years. But -there is one association connected with my life here that -probably is unknown to but a few in this room. That is an -association with a friend, which had much to do, I believe, -with the future course of our two lives. When I tell you that -for months and years we fought together and worked together -to the best of our power, and with the means we had then, to -give effect to the art we were practising; when I tell you we -dreamt of what might be done, but was not then done, and -patted each other on the back and said, ‘Well, old fellow, -perhaps the day will come when you may have a little more -than sixpence in your pocket;’ when I tell you that that man -was well known to you, and that his name was Calvert, you -will understand the nature of my associations with Manchester. -I have no doubt that you will be able to trace in my own -career, and the success I have had, the benefit of the communion -I had with him. When I was in Manchester I had -very many friends. I needed good advice at that time, for I -found it a very difficult thing as an actor to pursue my profession -and to do justice to certain things that I always had a -deep, and perhaps rather an extravagant, idea of, on the sum -of £75 a year. I have been making a calculation within the -last few minutes of the amount of money that I did earn in -those days, and I found that it was about £75 a year. -Perhaps one would be acting out of the fifty-two weeks of the -year some thirty-five. The other part of the year one would probably -be receiving nothing. Then an actor would be tempted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span> -perhaps to take a benefit, by which he generally lost £20 or -£30. I have a very fond recollection, I have an affection for -your city, for very many reasons. The training I received -here was a severe training; I must say at first it was very -severe. I found it a difficult thing to make my way at all with -the audience; and I believe the audience to a certain extent -was right; I think there was no reason that I <em>should</em> make my -way with them. I don’t think I had learnt enough; I think -I was too raw, too unacceptable. But I am very proud to say -that it was not long before, with the firmness of the Manchester -friendship which I have always found, they got to like me; and -I think before I parted with them they had an affection for me. -At all events, I remember when in this city as little less—or -little more—than a walking gentleman, I essayed the part of -Hamlet the Dane, I was looked upon as a sort of madman -who ought to be taken to some asylum and shut up; but I -found in acting it before the audience that their opinion was a -very different one, and before the play was half gone through I -was received with a fervour and a kindness which gave me hope -and expectation that in the far and distant future I might -perhaps be able to benefit by their kindness. Perhaps they -thought that by encouraging me they might help me on in the -future. I believe they thought that, I believe that was in the -thoughts of many of the audience, for they received me with an -enthusiasm and kindness which my merits did not deserve.”</p> - -<p>The man that could trace these faithful records of provincial -stage life, and speak in this natural heartfelt fashion of memories -which many would not perhaps wish to revive, must have a -courageous and sympathetic nature.</p> - -<p>Many years later, in his prosperity, he came to Bolton to lay -the first stone of a new theatre, on which occasion other old -memories recurred to him. “I once played here,” he said, -“for a week, I am afraid to say how many years ago, and a -very good time we had with a little sharing company from -Manchester, headed by an actor, Charles Calvert. The piece -we acted was called ‘Playing with Fire’; and though we did -not play with too much money, we enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. -I always look back to that week with very great pleasure. The -theatre then had not certainly every modern appliance, but -what the theatre lacked the audience made up for, and a more -spontaneous, good-natured public I never played to.”</p> - -<p>On another occasion he again indulged in a retrospect; -indeed, his eyes seem always to have fondly turned back to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span> -Manchester and these early days of struggle: “I came all the -way from Greenock with a few shillings in my pocket, and -found myself in the splendid theatre now presided over by our -friend Captain Bainbridge. The autumn dramatic season of -1860 commenced with a little farce, and a little two-act piece -from the French, called ‘The Spy,’ the whole concluding with -‘God Save the Queen,’ in which, and in the little two-act piece -from the French, I took prominent parts; so you see, gentlemen, -that as a vocalist I even then had some proficiency, although I -had not achieved the distinction subsequently attained by my -efforts in Mephistopheles. Well, you will admit that the little -piece from the French and the one-act farce—‘God Save the -Queen’ was left out after the first night, through no fault of -mine, I assure you—you will admit that these two pieces did -not make up a very sensational bill of fare. I cannot conscientiously -say that they crammed the theatre for a fortnight, -but what did that matter?—we were at the Theatre Royal, -Manchester, the manager was a man of substance, and we were -all very happy and comfortable. Besides ‘Faust and Marguerite,’ -there was a burlesque of Byron’s, ‘The Maid and the -Magpie,’ in which I also played, the part being that of an -exceedingly heavy father; and you will forgive me, I am sure, -for saying that the very heavy father was considered by some -to be anything but a dull performance. But though the houses -were poor, we were a merry family. Our wants were few: we -were not extravagant. We had a good deal of exercise, and -what we did not earn we worked hard to borrow as frequently -as possible from one another. Ah! they were very happy days. -But do not think that this was our practice always of an afternoon; -there was plenty of fine work done in the theatre. The -public of Manchester was in those days a critical public, and -could not long be satisfied with such meagre fare as I have -pictured. During the five years of my sojourn in Manchester -there was a succession of brilliant plays performed by first-rate -actors, and I must say that I owe much to the valuable experience -which I gained in your Theatre Royal under the -management of John Knowles.”</p> - -<p>In his Manchester recollections, as we see, there are hints of -very serious struggles and privations. Such are, as says Boswell, -“bark and steel for the mind.” A man is the better for them, -though the process is painful; they assuredly teach resource -and patience. Years after, the actor, now grown celebrated and -prosperous, used to relate, and relate dramatically, this very -touching little story of his struggles:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span></p> - -<p>“Perhaps the most remarkable Christmas dinner at which I -have ever been present was the one at which we dined upon -underclothing. Do you remember Joe Robins—a nice genial -fellow who played small parts in the provinces? Ah, no; that -was before your time. Joe Robins was once in the gentleman’s -furnishing business in London city. I think he had a wholesale -trade, and was doing well. However, he belonged to one -of the semi-Bohemian clubs, associated a great deal with actors -and journalists, and when an amateur performance was organized -for some charitable object, he was cast for the clown in a -burlesque called ‘Guy Fawkes.’ He determined to go upon -the stage professionally and become a great actor. Fortunately, -Joe was able to dispose of his stock and goodwill for a few -hundreds, which he invested so as to give him an income -sufficient to prevent the wolf from getting inside his door in -case he did not eclipse Garrick, Kean, and Kemble. He also -packed up for himself a liberal supply of his wares, and started -in his profession with enough shirts, collars, handkerchiefs, -stockings, and underclothing to equip him for several years.</p> - -<p>“The amateur success of poor Joe was never repeated on -the regular stage. He did not make an absolute failure; no -manager would entrust him with parts big enough for him to fail -in. But he drifted down to general utility, and then out of -London, and when I met him he was engaged in a very small -way, on a very small salary, at a Manchester theatre.</p> - -<p>“Christmas came in very bitter weather. Joe had a part in -the Christmas pantomime. He dressed with other poor actors, -and he saw how thinly some of them were clad when they -stripped before him to put on their stage costumes. For one -poor fellow in especial his heart ached. In the depth of a -very cold winter he was shivering in a suit of very light summer -underclothing, and whenever Joe looked at him, the warm -flannel undergarments snugly packed away in an extra trunk -weighed heavily on his mind. Joe thought the matter over, -and determined to give the actors who dressed with him a -Christmas dinner. It was literally a dinner upon underclothing, -for most of the shirts and drawers which Joe had cherished so -long went to the pawnbroker’s or the slop-shop to provide the -money for the meal. The guests assembled promptly, for -nobody else is ever so hungry as a hungry actor. The dinner -was to be served at Joe’s lodgings, and before it was placed on -the table, Joe beckoned his friend with the gauze underclothing -into a bedroom, and pointing to a chair, silently withdrew. On<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span> -that chair hung a suit of underwear, which had been Joe’s -pride. It was of a comfortable scarlet colour; it was thick, -warm, and heavy; it fitted the poor actor as if it had been -manufactured especially to his measure. He put it on, and as -the flaming flannels encased his limbs, he felt his heart glowing -within him with gratitude to dear Joe Robins.</p> - -<p>“That actor never knew—or, if he knew, could never remember—what -he had for dinner on that Christmas afternoon. -He revelled in the luxury of warm garments. The roast beef -was nothing to him in comparison with the comfort of his -under-vest; he appreciated the drawers more than the plum-pudding. -Proud, happy, warm, and comfortable, he felt little -inclination to eat; but sat quietly, and thanked Providence -and Joe Robins with all his heart. ‘You seem to enter into -that poor actor’s feelings very sympathetically.’ ‘I have good -reason to do so, replied Irving, with his sunshiny smile, ‘<em>for I -was that poor actor</em>!’”</p> - -<p>This really simple, most affecting, incident he himself related -when on his first visit to America.</p> - -<p>Most actors have a partiality for what may be called fantastic -freaks or “practical jokes,” to be accounted for perhaps by a -sort of reaction from their own rather monotonous calling. -The late Mr. Sothern delighted in such pastimes, and Mr. Toole -is not exactly indifferent to them. The excitement caused by -that ingenious pair of mountebanks, the Davenport Brothers, -will still be recalled: their appearance at Manchester early in -1865 prompted our actor to a lively method of exposure, which -he carried out with much originality. With the aid of another -actor, Mr. Philip Day, and a prestidigitator, Mr. Frederic -Maccabe, he arranged his scheme, and invited a large number -of friends and notables of the city to a performance in the -Athenæum. Assuming the dress characteristics of a patron -of the Brothers, one Dr. Ferguson, Irving came forward and -delivered a grotesque address, and then, in the usual familiar -style, proceeded to “tie up” his coadjutors in the cabinet, with -the accompaniments of ringing bells, beating tambourines, etc. -The whole was, as a matter of course, successful. It was not, -however, strictly within the programme of an actor who was -“toiling at his oar,” though the vivacity of youth was likely -enough to have prompted it.</p> - -<p>On the eve of his departure from Manchester he determined -on an ambitious attempt, and, as already stated, played ‘Hamlet’ -for his own benefit. The company good-naturedly favoured<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span> -his project, though they fancied it was beyond his strength. -It was, as he has told us, an extraordinary success, and the -performance was called for on several nights—a high compliment, -as it was considered, in the city, where the custom was -to require a “new bill” every night. He himself did not put -much faith in the prophecies of future eminence that were -uttered on this occasion; he felt that, after all, there was no -likelihood of his emerging from the depressing monotonous -round of provincial histrionics. But rescue was nearer at hand -than he fancied. The stage is stored with surprises, and there, -at least, it is the unexpected that always, or usually, happens.</p> - -<p>Leaving Manchester, he passed to Edinburgh, Bury, Oxford, -and even to Douglas, Isle of Man, where the assembly-room -used to do duty as a “fit-up” theatre. For six months, from -January to July, 1866, he was at Liverpool with Mr. Alexander -Henderson.</p> - -<p>Thus had he seen many men and many theatres and many -audiences, and must have learned many a rude lesson, besides -learning his profession. At this moment, as he described it -long after, he found himself one day standing on the steps of -the theatre looking hopelessly down the street, and in a sort -of despair, without an engagement, and no very likely prospect -of engagement, not knowing, indeed, which way to turn, unless -some “stroke of luck” came. But the “actor’s luck,” as he -said, “is really <em>work</em>;” and the lucky actor is, above all, a -worker. At this hopeless moment arrived unexpectedly a -proposal from Dion Boucicault that he should join him at -Manchester and take a leading character in his new piece. -He accepted; but with some shrewdness stipulated that should -he succeed to the author’s satisfaction, he was to obtain an -engagement in London. This was acceded to, and with a -light heart he set off.</p> - -<p>Mr. Boucicault, indeed, long after in America boasted that -it was his good fortune to “discover Irving” in 1866, when -he was playing in “the country.” The performance took place -on July 30, 1866. “He was cast for a part in ‘Hunted Down,’ -and played it so admirably that I invited my friend Mr. Charles -Reade to go and see him. He confirmed my opinion so -strongly, that when ‘Hunted Down’ was played in London a -few months afterwards, I gave it conditionally on Mr. Irving’s -engagement. That was his <i lang="fr">début</i> in London as a leading actor.” -He added some judicious criticism, distinguishing Irving as -“an eccentric serious actor” from Jefferson, who was “an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span> -eccentric comic actor.” “His mannerisms are so very marked -that an audience requires a long familiarity with his style before -it can appreciate many merits that are undeniable. It is -unquestionable that he is the greatest actor as a tragedian that -London has seen during the last fifty years.”<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p>In this piece, ‘Mary Leigh and her Three Lives’ (which -later became ‘Hunted Down’), the heroine was performed by -Miss Kate Terry, at that time the only member of a gifted -family who had made a reputation. Irving’s character was -Rawdon Scudamore, a polished villain, to which he imparted -such force and <i lang="fr">finesse</i>, that it impressed all who witnessed it -with the belief that here was an actor of striking power. It at -once gave him “a position,” and an impression of his gifts -was of a sudden left upon the profession, upon those even -who had not seen him. No fewer than three offers of engagement -were made to him. The author of the piece, as we have -seen, was particularly struck with his powers; his London engagement -was now secure, and he was to receive a tempting -offer, through Mr. Tom Taylor, from the management of the -St James’s Theatre, about to open with the new season.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1866.<br /> -THE ST. JAMES’S THEATRE—‘HUNTED DOWN’—THE NEW -VAUDEVILLE THEATRE—‘THE TWO ROSES.’</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>The directress of the new venture at the St. James’s Theatre -was Miss Herbert, a graceful, sympathetic person of much -beauty, with exquisite golden hair and almost devotional -features, which supplied many of the Pre-Raphaelite brethren -with angelic faces for their canvases. On the stage her efforts<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span> -were directed by great intelligence and spirit, and she was now -about to essay all the difficulties and perplexities of management. -Like so many others, she had before her a very high ideal -of her office: the good, vivacious old comedies, with refined, -correct acting, were to entice the wayward public, with pieces -by Reade, Tom Taylor, and Boucicault. This pleasing actress -was destined to have a chequered course of struggle and -adventure, a mingled yarn of success and disappointment, and -has long since retired from the stage.</p> - -<p>At the St. James’s Theatre the company was formed of the -manageress herself; of Walter Lacy, an actor of fine polish -and grace; of Addison, one of the old school; with that -excellent mirth-making pair, the Frank Mathews. The stage-manager -was Irving. Here, then, he found himself, to his inexpressible -satisfaction, in a respected and respectable position, -one very different from that of the actor-of-all-work in the -provinces. Not the least comforting reflection was that he -had won his way to this station by remarkable talent and conscientious -labour. The theatre opened on October 6, 1866. -‘Hunted Down’ was the piece originally fixed upon, but it -could not be got ready in time, so a change was made to the -lively old comedy of the ‘Belle’s Stratagem,’ the name which it -had been originally proposed to give to Oliver Goldsmith’s -‘She Stoops to Conquer.’</p> - -<p>The actor tells us of this interesting occasion: “I was cast -for Doricourt, a part which I had never played before, and -which I thought did not suit me; I felt that this was the -opinion of the audience soon after the play began. The house -appeared to be indifferent, and I believed that failure was conclusively -stamped upon my work, when suddenly, upon my -exit after the mad scene, I was startled by a burst of applause, -and so great was the enthusiasm of the audience, that I was -compelled to reappear upon the scene, a somewhat unusual -thing except upon the operatic stage.”<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> This compliment is -nearly always paid to our actor when he performs this part.</p> - -<p>In the criticisms of the piece the efforts of the interesting -manageress-actress of course received the chief attention. -Dramatic criticism, however, at this time was of a somewhat -slender kind, and the elaborate study of an individual performer’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span> -merits was not then in fashion. The play itself was -then “the thing,” and accordingly we find the new actor’s -exertions dealt with in a curt but encouraging style: “Mr. H. -Irving was the fine gentleman in Doricourt: but he was more, -for his mad scenes were truthfully conceived and most subtly -executed.” Thus the <cite>Athenæum</cite>. And Mr. Oxenford, with -his usual reserve, after pronouncing that the comedy was “a -compound of English dulness and Italian pantomime,” added -that Doricourt “was heavy company till he feigns madness, -and the mock insanity represented by Mr. H. Irving is the -cause of considerable mirth.” This slight and meagre tribute -contrasts oddly with the elaborate fulness of stage criticism in -our day.</p> - -<p>The piece has always continued in the actor’s <i lang="fr">répertoire</i>, -after being compressed into a few scenes. The rich, old-fashioned -dress and powder suits the performer and sets off -his intelligent features, which wear a smiling expression, as -though consciously enjoying the comedy flavour of the piece.</p> - -<p>A little later, on November 5, ‘Hunted Down’ was brought -forward, in which the actor, as Rawdon Scudamore, made a -deep impression. It was declared that the part “completely -served the purpose of displaying the talent of Mr. Henry -Irving, whose ability in depicting the most vindictive feelings, -<em>merely by dint of facial expression</em>, is very remarkable.” Facial -expression is, unhappily, but little used on our English stage, -and yet it is one of the most potent agencies—more so than -speech or gesture.<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> It was admitted, too, that he displayed -another precious gift—reserve—conveying even more than he -expressed: a store of secret villainy as yet unrevealed. Many -were the compliments paid him on this creation; and friends -of Charles Dickens know how much struck he was with the -new actor’s impersonation. The novelist was always eager to -recognise new talent of this kind. Some years later, “Charles -Dickens the younger,” as he was then called, related at a -banquet how his celebrated father had once gone to see the -‘Lancashire Lass,’ and on his return home had said: “But -there was a young fellow in the play who sits at the table and -is bullied by Sam Emery; his name is Henry Irving, and if -that young man does not one day come out as a great actor, I -know nothing of art.” A worthy descendant of the Kembles,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span> -Mrs. Sartoris, also heartily appreciated his powers.<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> During -the season a round of pieces were brought forward, such as -‘The Road to Ruin,’ ‘The School for Scandal’ (in which he -played young Dornton and Joseph Surface), ‘Robert Macaire,’ -and a new Robertson drama, ‘A Rapid Thaw,’ in which he -took the part of a conventional Irishman, O’Hoolagan! It -must have been a quaint surprise to see our actor in a -Hibernian character. After the season closed, the company -went “on tour” to Liverpool, Dublin, and other towns.<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span></p> - -<p>Miss Herbert’s venture, like so many other ventures planned -on an intellectual basis, did not flourish exceedingly; and in -the course of the years that followed we find our actor appearing -rather fitfully at various London theatres, which at this -time, before the great revival of the stage, were in rather an -unsettled state. He went with Sothern to play in Paris, -appearing at the Théâtre des Italiens, and in December, 1867, -found an engagement at the Queen’s Theatre in Long Acre, a -sort of “converted” concert-room, where nothing seemed to -thrive; and here for the first time he played with Miss Ellen -Terry, in ‘Catherine and Petruchio’ (a piece it might be well -worth while to revive at the Lyceum); and in that very -effective drama, ‘Dearer than Life,’ with Brough and Toole; -in ‘The School for Scandal’; also making a striking effect in -‘Bill Sikes.’ I fancy this character, though somewhat discounted -by Dubosc, would, if revived, add to his reputation. -We find him also performing the lugubrious Falkland in ‘The -Rivals.’ He also played Redburn in the highly popular -‘Lancashire Lass,’ which “ran” for many months. At the -Queen’s Theatre he remained for over a year, not making -any marked advance in his profession, owing to the lack of -favourable opportunities. He had a part in Watts Phillips’ -drama of ‘Not Guilty.’ Then, in 1869, he came to the Haymarket, -and had an engagement at Drury Lane in Boucicault’s -‘Formosa,’ a piece that gave rise to much excited discussion -on the ground of the “moralities.” His part was, however, -colourless, being little more than a cardboard figure: anything -fuller or rounder would have been lost on so huge a stage. It -was performed, or “ran,” for over a hundred nights. With his -sensitive, impressionable nature the performance of so barren a -character must have been positive pain: his dramatic soul lay -blank and fallow during the whole of that unhappy time. Not -very much ground had been gained beyond the reputation of a -sound and useful performer. Relying on my own personal -impressions—for I followed him from the beginning of his -course—I should say that the first distinct effort that left -prominent and distinct impression was his performance at the -Gaiety Theatre, in December, 1869, of the cold, pompous Mr. -Chenevix, in Byron’s ‘Uncle Dick’s Darling.’ It was felt at -once, as I then felt, that here was a rich original creation, a -figure that lingered in the memory, and which you followed, as -it moved, with interest and pleasure. There was a surprising -finish and reserve. It was agreed that we had now an actor of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span> -<i lang="fr">genre</i>, who had the power of creating a character. The impression -made was really remarkable, and this specimen of -good, pure comedy was set off by the pathetic acting of -“friend Toole,” who played ‘Uncle Dick.’ This was a turning-point -in his career, and no doubt led to an important -advance. But these days of uncertainty were now to close. I -can recall my own experience of the curious pleasure and -satisfaction left by the performance of this unfamiliar actor, -who suggested so much more than the rather meagre character -itself conveyed. I found myself drawn to see it several times, -and still the feeling was always that of some secret undeveloped -power in the clever, yet unpretending, performer.</p> - -<p>Irving can tell a story in the pleasantest “high comedy” -manner, and without laying emphasis on points. In May last, -being entertained by the “Savages,” he made a most agreeable -speech, and related this adventure of his early Bohemian days, -in illustration of the truth that “it is always well to have a -personal acquaintance with a presiding magistrate.” “I had -driven one night from the Albion to some rooms I occupied in -old Quebec Street, and after bidding the cabman farewell, I -was preparing to seek repose, when there came a knock at the -door. Upon opening it I found the cabman, who said that I -had given him a bad half-crown. Restraining myself, I told -him ‘to be—to begone.’ I shut the door, but in a few -moments there came another knock, and with the cabman -appeared a policeman, who said, with the grave formality of -his office, ‘You are charged with passing a bad half-crown, and -must come with me to the police-station.’ I explained that I -was a respectable, if unknown, citizen, pursuing a noble, -though precarious, calling, and that I could be found in the -morning at the address I had given. The policeman was not -at all impressed by that, so I jumped into the cab and went to -the station, where the charge was entered upon the night-sheet, -and I was briefly requested to make myself at home. ‘Do you -intend me to spend the night here?’ I said to the inspector. -‘Certainly,’ he said; ‘that is the idea.’ So I asked him to -oblige me with a pencil and a piece of paper, which he reluctantly -gave me. I addressed a few words to Sir Thomas -Henry, who was then presiding magistrate at Bow Street, and -with whom I had an intimacy, in an unofficial capacity. The -inspector looked at me. ‘Do you know Sir Thomas Henry?’ -he said. ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I have that honour.’ The officer -suddenly turned round to the policeman and said, ‘What do<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span> -you mean by bringing such a charge against this gentleman?’ -Then he turned fiercely on the cabman, and nearly kicked him -out of the office. I returned home triumphantly in the cab. I -cannot give a young ‘Savage’ first starting on his career a -sounder piece of advice than this—‘Always know your own -mind, and also a magistrate.’” We practised <i lang="fr">littérateurs</i> -might well envy the pleasant facility and point with which this -is told.</p> - -<p>About this time an attractive actor, who had been much -followed on account of his good looks, one Harry Montague, -had joined in management with two diverting drolls—as they -were then—James and Thorne, who were the pillars of -burlesque at the Strand Theatre. All three felt a sort of inspiration -that they were capable of something higher and more -“legitimate”—an impression which the event has more than -justified. The two last, by assiduous study and better opportunities, -became admirable comedians. A sort of club that -had not prospered was lying unused in the Strand, and a little -alteration converted it into a theatre. The three managers -were anxiously looking for a piece of modern manners which -would exhibit to advantage their several gifts. A young fellow, -who had left his desk for playwriting, had brought them a sort -of comedy which was in a very crude state, but which, it -seemed likely, could be made what they wanted; and by the -aid of their experience and suggestions, it was fashioned into -shape. Indeed, it proved that never was a piece more admirably -suited to the company that played it. The characters -fitted them all, as it is called, “like gloves.” They were -bright, interesting, natural, and humorous; the story was -pleasing and interesting, and the dialogue agreeable and smart. -Such was ‘The Two Roses,’ which still holds the stage, though -it now seems a little old-fashioned. Irving was one of the -performers, and was perhaps the best suited of the group. -The perfect success of the piece proved how advantageous is -the old system of having a piece “written in the theatre,” when -the intelligence of the performers and that of the managers are -brought in aid of each other. The little house opened on -April 16, 1870, with a piece of Mr. Halliday’s; and it was not -until a few weeks later that the piece was brought forward—on -June 4. The success was instantaneous.</p> - -<p>The unctuous Honey, in his own line an excellent original -actor, raised in the good old school of the “low comedian,” -which has now disappeared, was the good-natured Bagman—a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span> -part taken later by James, who was also excellent. Thorne -was efficient, and sufficiently reserved, in the rather unmeaning -blind Caleb Decie; while Montague was the gallant and interesting -hero, Jack Wyatt. The two girls were represented in -pleasing fashion by Miss Amy Fawcitt and Miss Newton. The -piece, as I have said, owed much to the actors, though these -again owed much to the piece. It is difficult to adjust the -balance of obligation in such cases; but good actors can make -nothing of a bad play, whereas a good play may make good -actors. Irving, as Digby Grant, was the chief attraction, and -his extraordinarily finished and varied playing of that insincere -and selfish being excited general admiration.</p> - -<p>It has not been noticed, in these days of appropriation, that -the piece was practically an ingenious variation, or adaptation, -of Dickens’ ‘Little Dorrit.’ For here we find old Dorrit, his -two daughters, and one of their admirers; also the constant -loans, the sudden good fortune, and the equally sudden reverse. -It was easy to see that the piece had been formed by the -evolution of this one character, the legitimate method, it has -always seemed to me, of making a play; whereas the average -dramatist adopts a reverse practice of finding a story, and then -finding characters for it. Character itself <em>is</em> a story. The -character of Digby Grant was the first that gave him firm hold -of public favour. It belongs to pure comedy—a fidgety, selfish -being, self-deluded by the practice of social hypocrisies, querulous, -scheming, wheedling. It is curious that a very good -actor, who later filled the part, took the villainy <i lang="fr">au sérieux</i>, -giving the complaint, “<em>You annoy me very much!</em>” repeated so -often, as a genuine reproach, and with anger. Irving’s was the -true view—a simulated vexation, “<em>You annoy me very much!</em>” -The audience sees that he is not “annoyed very much.”</p> - -<p>After our actor’s visit to America, his performance was -noticed to be more elaborate and laboured, but it had lost some -of its spontaneousness—a result which, it has been noted, is -too often the result of playing to American audiences, who are -pleased with broad effects. This piece continued to be played -for about a year—then thought to be a prodigious run, though -it is now found common enough—during which time Irving’s -reputation steadily increased.<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1871.<br /> -‘THE BELLS’—WILLS’S ‘CHARLES I.’</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>Among those who had taken note of Irving’s efforts was a “long-headed” -American manager, whose loudly-expressed criticism -was that “he ought to play Richelieu!” This was a far-seeing -view. Many years before, this manager had been carrying round -the country his two “prodigy” daughters, who had attracted -astonishment by their precocious playing in a pretty little -piece of courtship, called ‘The Young Couple.’ The elder -later won favour by her powerful and intense acting in ‘Leah’; -and he was now about taking a theatre with a view of bringing -forward his second daughter, Isabel. It seems curious now to -think that the handsome, elegantly-designed Lyceum Theatre, -built by an accomplished architect on the most approved -principles, was then lying derelict, as it were, and at the service -of any stray <i lang="fr">entrepreneur</i>. It could be had on very cheap -terms, for at this time the revival of theatrical interest had not -yet come; the theatre, not yet in high fashion, was conducted -on rude, coarse lines. The attractions of the old correct -comedy, as seen at the Haymarket, were waning, and the old -companies were beginning to break up. Buckstone and -Webster were in their decay, yet still lagged ingloriously on -the stage. The pit and galleries were catered for. Theatres -were constantly opening, and as constantly closing. Burlesques -of the Gaiety pattern were coming into favour. In this state -of things the shrewd American saw an opportunity. He had -an excellent coadjutor in his wife, a clever, hard working lady, -with characteristics that often suggested the good-natured -Mrs. Crummles, but without any of her eccentricities. Her -husband took the Lyceum, and proceeded to form a company; -and one of his first steps was to offer an engagement to Irving.</p> - -<p>The new venture started on September 11, 1871, with an -unimportant piece, ‘Fanchette,’ founded on George Sand’s -‘Petite Fadette,’ in which our actor had a character quite -unsuited to his gifts, a sort of peasant lover.<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> The object was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span> -to introduce the manager’s daughter, Isabel, in a fantastical -part, but the piece was found “too French,” and rather far-fetched. -It failed very disastrously. The young actor, of -course, had to bear his share in the failure; but he could not -have dreamt at that moment that here he was to find his -regular home, and that for twenty long years he was destined -never to be away from the shadow of the great portico of the -Lyceum.</p> - -<p>The prospect for the American manager was now not very -encouraging. He had made a serious mistake at starting. In a -few weeks he had replaced it by a version of <cite>Pickwick</cite>, with a -view of utilizing his chief comedian’s talent as “Jingle.” The -play was but a rude piece of carpentry, without any of the -flavour of the novel, hastily put together and acted indifferently; -the actors were dressed after the pictures in the story, -but did not catch the spirit of their characters. Irving in face -and figure and dress was thoroughly Pickwickian, and reproduced -Seymour and Hablot Browne’s sketch, very happily -catching the recklessness and rattle of the original. Still, it -was difficult to avoid the suggestion of ‘Jeremy Diddler,’ or of -the hero of ‘A Race for a Dinner.’ The reason, perhaps, was -that the adaptation was conceived in a purely farcical spirit. -It has always seemed to me that “the Immortal Pickwick” -should be treated as comedy rather than farce, and would be -more effective on the stage were the Jingle scenes set forth -with due seriousness and sincerity. The incidents at the -Rochester Ball, for instance, belong to pure comedy, and would -be highly effective. Some years later Irving put the work into -the not very skilful hands of Albery, who reduced it to the -proportions of a farce with some pathetic elements. It was -called ‘Jingle.’</p> - -<p>At this time there was “hanging loose on” the theatres, as -Dr. Johnson once phrased it, one Leopold Lewis, who had been -seduced from an office by the enchantments of the stage. He -had made a translation of a very striking French play, ‘Le Juif -Polonais,’ which had been shown to the new actor. This, as -is well known, was by the gifted pair Erckmann-Chatrian, -whose realistic but picturesque stories, that call up before us -the old “Elsass” life, show extraordinary dramatic power. -This ‘Juif Polonais’ is more a succession of tableaux than a -formal play, but, like ‘L’Ami Fritz’ of the same writers, it has -a charm that is irresistible. It is forgotten that a version of -this piece had already been brought before the public at one of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span> -the minor theatres, which was the work of Mr. F. C. Burnand, -at that time a busy caterer for the theatres, chiefly of melodramas, -such as the ‘Turn of the Tide’ and ‘Deadman’s Point.’</p> - -<p>“Much against the wish of my friends,” says our actor, “I -took an engagement at the Lyceum, then under the management -of Mr. Bateman. I had successfully acted in many plays -besides ‘The Two Roses,’ which ran three hundred nights. It -was thought by everybody interested in such matters that I -ought to identify myself with what they called ‘character parts’; -though what that phrase means, by the way, I never could -exactly understand, for I have a prejudice in the belief that -every part should be a character. I always wanted to play in -the higher drama. Even in my boyhood my desire had been -in that direction. When at the Vaudeville Theatre, I recited -the poem of ‘Eugene Aram,’ simply to get an idea as to -whether I could impress an audience with a tragic theme. I -hoped I could, and at once made up my mind to prepare myself -to play characters of another type. When Mr. Bateman -engaged me he told me he would give me an opportunity, if he -could, to play various parts, as it was to his interest as much -as to mine to discover what he thought would be successful—though, -of course, never dreaming of ‘Hamlet’ or of -‘Richard III.’ Well, the Lyceum opened, but did not succeed. -Mr. Bateman had lost a lot of money, and he intended giving -it up. He proposed to me to go to America with him. By my -advice, and against his wish, ‘The Bells’ was rehearsed, but he -did not believe in it much. When he persuaded the manager -to produce ‘The Bells,’ he was told there was a prejudice -against that sort of romantic play. It produced a very poor -house, although a most enthusiastic one. From that time the -theatre prospered.”</p> - -<p>Our actor, thus always earnest and persuasive, pressed his -point, and at last extorted consent—and the play, which required -scarcely any mounting, was performed on November 25, -1871. At that time I was living in the south of France, in a -remote and solitary place, and I recollect the surprise and -curiosity with which I heard and read of the powerful piece -that had been produced, and of the more extraordinary triumph -of the new actor. Everyone, according to the well-worn phrase, -seemed to be “electrified.” The story was novel, and likely to -excite the profoundest interest.</p> - -<p>An extraordinary alteration, due, I believe, to the manager, -was the introduction of the vision of the Jew in his sledge, a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span> -device unmeaning and illogical. In the original the morbid -remorse of the guilty man is roused by the visit of a travelling -Jew, which very naturally excites his perturbed spirit. But -this vision discounts, as it were, and enfeebles the <em>second</em> vision. -The piece would have been presented under far more favourable -conditions had it been prepared by or adapted by someone of -more skill and delicacy than Mr. Leopold Lewis.</p> - -<p>For twenty years and more this remarkable impersonation -has kept its hold upon audiences, and whenever it is revived -for an occasional performance or for a longer “run,” it never -fails to draw full houses; and so it doubtless will do to the end -of the actor’s career. It was his introduction to the American -audiences; and it is likely enough that it will be the piece in -which he will take his farewell.</p> - -<p>The new actor was now becoming a “personality.” Everyone -of note discovered that he was interesting in many ways, -and was eager to know such a man. The accomplished Sir E. -Bulwer Lytton wrote that his performance was “too admirable -not to be appreciated by every competent judge of art,” and -added, “that any author would be fortunate who obtained his -assistance in some character that was worthy of his powers.” -A little later the actor took this hint, and was glad to do full -justice to several pieces of this brilliant and gifted writer.</p> - -<p>At this time there was a clever young man “on town” who -had furnished Mr. Vezin with a fine and effective play, ‘The -Man o’ Airlie,’ from a German original. He was a poet of -much grace, his lines were musical, and suited for theatrical -delivery; he had been successful as a novelist, and was, moreover, -a portrait-painter in the elegant art of pastel, then but -little practised. In this latter direction it was predicted that -he was likely to win a high position, but the attractions of the -stage were too strong for him. Becoming acquainted with the -popular actor, a subject for a new creation was suggested -by his very physique and dreamy style. This was the story of -the unhappy Charles I. Both the manager and the player -welcomed the suggestion, and the dramatist set to work. -Though possessed of true feeling and a certain inspiration, the -author was carried away by his ardour into a neglect of the -canons of the stage, writing masses of poetry of inordinate -length, which he brought to his friends at the theatre, until -they at last began to despair. Many changes had to be made -before the poem could be brought into satisfactory shape; -and, by aid of the tact and experience of the manager and his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span> -actor, the final act was at last completed to the satisfaction -of all.<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></p> - -<p>‘Charles I.’ was brought out on September 28, 1872. Having -been present on this night, I can recall the tranquil pleasure -and satisfaction and absorbing interest which this very legitimate -and picturesque performance imparted, while the melodious -and poetical lines fell acceptably on the ear. This tranquil -tone contrasted effectively with the recent tumult and agitation -of ‘The Bells.’ It was a perfect success, and the author shared -in the glories.</p> - -<p>Only lately we followed the once popular Wills to his grave -in the Brompton Cemetery. His somewhat erratic and, I fear, -troubled course closed in the month of December, 1891. There -was a curious suggestion, or reminiscence, of his countryman -Goldsmith in his character and ways. Like that great poet, -he had a number of “hangers-on” and admirers who were -always welcome to his “bit and sup,” and helped to kill the -hours. If there was no bed there was a sofa. There were -stories, too, of a “piece purse” on the chimney to which people -might apply. He had the same sanguine temperament as -Goldsmith, and the slightest opening would present him with -a magnificent prospect, on which his ready imagination would -lavish all sorts of roseate hues. He was always going to make -his fortune, or to make a “great hit.” He had the same heedless -way of talking, making warm and even ardent protestations -and engagements which he could not help forgetting within an -hour. But these were amiable weaknesses. He had a thoroughly -good heart, was as sensitive as a woman, or as <em>some</em> women, -affectionate and generous. His life, I fear, was to the close -one of troubles and anxiety. He certainly did much for the -Lyceum, and was our actor’s favourite author. ‘Charles I.,’ -‘Eugene Aram,’ ‘Olivia,’ ‘Iolanthe,’ ‘Faust,’ ‘Vanderdecken’ -(in part), ‘Don Quixote’—these were his contributions.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span></p> - -<p>The play was written after the correct and classical French -model. The opening scene, as a bit of pictorial effect—the -placid garden of Hampton Court, with a startling reproduction -of Vandyke’s figure—has always been admired, and furnishes -“the note” of the play. All through the actor presented a -spectacle of calm and dignified suffering, that disdained to -resent or protest; some of his pathetic passages, such as the -gentle rebuke to the faithless Huntley and the parting with his -children, have always made the handkerchiefs busy.</p> - -<p>The leading actor was well supported by Miss Isabel Bateman -in the character of the Queen, to which she imparted a -good deal of pathetic feeling and much grace. For many -years she was destined to figure in all the pieces in which he -played. This, it need not be said, was of advantage for the -development of her powers. Even a mediocre performer cannot -withstand the inspiration that comes of such companionship; -while constant playing with a really good actor has often -made a good actress. But the manager, who had some -odd, native notions of his own, as to delicacy and the refinements -generally, must have rather inconvenienced or disturbed—to -say the least of it—our actor, by giving him as a coadjutor, -in the part of Cromwell, an effective low-comedy actor of <i lang="fr">genre</i>, -in the person of Mr. George Belmore, who did his work with -a conscientious earnestness, but with little colouring or picturesque -effect. On a later occasion he supplied another performer -who was yet more unsuited—viz., the late Mr. John -Clayton—who used to open the night’s proceedings in a light -rattling touch-and-go farce, such as ‘A Regular Fix.’ Both -these actors, excellent in their line, lacked the weight and -dignified associations necessary for the high school of tragedy.<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></p> - -<p>One of those vehement and amusing discussions which -occasionally arise out of a play, and furnish prodigious excitement -for the public, was aroused by the conception taken of -Cromwell, which was, in truth, opposed to tradition; for the -Protector was exhibited as willing to condone the King’s -offences, and to desert his party, for the “consideration” of a -marriage between himself and one of the King’s daughters. -This ludicrous view, based on some loose gossip, was, reasonably<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span> -enough, thought to degrade Cromwell’s character, and -the point was debated with much fierceness.</p> - -<p>During the “run” of ‘Charles I.’ the successful dramatist -was busy preparing a new poetical piece on the subject of -Eugene Aram. It is not generally known that the author himself -dramatized his story. This was produced on April 19, -1873, but the tone seemed to be too lugubrious, the actor -passing from one mournful soliloquy to another. There was -but little action. The ordinary versions are more effective. -But the actor himself produced a deep, poetical impression.</p> - -<p>The manager, now in the height of success, adopted -a style of “bold advertisement,” that suggested Elliston’s -amusing exaggerations.<a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> The piece ran for over one hundred -and fifty nights, to May 17, 1873, and during a portion of the -time the versatile player would finish the night with ‘Jeremy -Diddler.’</p> - -<p>The new season of 1873 began on September 27, with Lord -Lytton’s ‘Richelieu.’ It is a tribute to the prowess of that -gifted man that his three pieces—the ever-fresh and fair ‘Lady -of Lyons,’ ‘Money,’ and ‘Richelieu’—should be really the -only genuine stock-pieces of the modern stage. They never -seem out of fashion, and are always welcomed. It might be -said, indeed, that there is hardly a night on which the ‘Lady -of Lyons’ is not <em>somewhere</em> acted. In ‘Richelieu’ the actor -presented a truly picturesque figure—he was aged, tottering, -nervous, but rallying to full vigour when the occasion called. -The well-known scene, where he invokes “the curse of Rome,” -produced extraordinary enthusiasm, cheers, waving of handkerchiefs, -and a general uproar from the pit. It was in this -piece that those “mannerisms” which have been so often -“girded at,” often with much pitilessness, began to attract -attention. In this part, as in the first attempt in ‘Macbeth,’ -there was noted a lack of restraint, something hysterical at -times, when control seemed to be set aside. The truth is,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span> -most of his attempts at this period were naturally <em>experiments</em>, -and very different from those deliberate, long-prepared, and -well-matured representations he offered under the responsibility -of serious management.</p> - -<p>This piece was succeeded by an original play, ‘Philip,’ by -an agreeable writer who had made a name as a novelist, Mr. -Hamilton Aïdé—a dramatic story of the average pattern, and -founded on jealousy. It was produced on February 7, and -enjoyed a fair share of success.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1874.<br /> -‘HAMLET’—‘OTHELLO’—‘MACBETH’—DEATH OF ‘THE -COLONEL’—‘QUEEN MARY.’</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>But now was to be made a serious experiment, on which much -was to depend. Hitherto Irving had not travelled out of the -regions of conventional drama, or of what might be called -romantic melodrama; but he was now to lay hands on the ark, -and attempt the most difficult and arduous of Shakespearian -characters, Hamlet. Every actor has a dream of performing -the character, and fills up his disengaged moments with speculations -as to the interpretation. The vitality of this wonderful -play is such that it nearly always is a novelty for the audience, -because the character is fitfully changeful, and offers innumerable -modes of interpretation.</p> - -<p>The momentous trial was made on October 31, 1874. It -had long and studiously been prepared for: and the actor, in -his solitary walks during the days of his provincial servitude, -had worked out his formal conception of the character. There -was much curiosity and expectation; and it was noted that so -early as three o’clock in the afternoon a dense crowd had -assembled in the long tunnel that leads from the Strand to the -pit door. I was present in the audience, and can testify to the -excitement. Nothing I have ever seen on the stage, except -perhaps the burst that greeted Sarah Bernhardt’s speech in -‘Phèdre’ on the first night of the French Comedy in London, -has approached the tumult of the moment when the actor, -after the play scene, flung himself into the King’s chair.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span></p> - -<p>Our actor judiciously took account of all criticisms, and with -later performances subdued or toned down what was extravagant. -The whole gained in thoughtfulness and in general -meditative tone, and it is admitted that the meaning of the -intricate soliloquies could not be more distinctly or more -intelligibly conveyed to an audience. He played a good deal -with his face, as it is called: with smilings of intelligence, as if -interested or amused. But, as a whole, his conception of the -character may be said to remain the same as it was on that night.</p> - -<p>The play was mounted with the favourite economy of the -manager, and contrasted with the unsparing lavishness of -decoration which characterized its later revival. But the actors -were good. The sound, “full-bodied” old Chippendale was -Polonius; Swinburne, also of the old school, was the King; -and the worthy Mead, long ago a star himself, and one of Mr. -Phelps’ corps, “discharged” the Ghost with admirable impression -and elocution.<a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> He has now passed away, after long -service, to “that bourne,” etc. Miss Bateman was interesting, -and Mrs. Pauncefort, who was till lately at the Lyceum, was an -excellent Queen. Actor and manager expected much success -for ‘Hamlet,’ and counted on a run of eighty nights, but it -was performed for two hundred! To the present hour it has -always continued—though sparingly revived—the most interesting -of the actor’s performances, looked for with an intellectual -curiosity.</p> - -<p>In March the hundredth night of ‘Hamlet’ was celebrated -by a banquet, given in the saloon of the Lyceum Theatre, at -which all the critics and literary persons connected with the -stage were present. This method of festivity has since become -familiar enough, owing to the never-flagging hospitality of the -later manager of the Lyceum, and offers a striking contrast to -the older days, when it was intimated that “<em>chicken and champagne</em>” -was a ready method of propitiating the critics. Mr. -Pigott, who had recently been appointed the Licenser of -Plays, a man of many friends, from his amiability—now, -alas! gone from us—proposed the health of the lessee, which -was followed by the health of the actor and of the author of the -establishment, the latter, as it was rather sarcastically said, -“giving the hundred and odd literary men present the oft-repeated<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span> -illustration of how far apart are authorship and -oratory.” The good old Chippendale told how he had played -Polonius to the Hamlet of Kemble, Kean, Young, and other -famous tragedians; but protested that “the most natural and, -to his mind, the most truthful representation he had seen was -that of his friend here.” Something must be allowed for post-prandial -exuberance, and no one could more shrewdly appreciate -their value than the actor himself. We may be certain that in -his “heart of heart” he did not agree that he had excelled -Kemble, Kean, Young, and the others. It was interesting, -however, to meet such histrionic links with the past, which are -now broken. Mr. Howe is perhaps the only person now -surviving who could supply reminiscences of the kind.</p> - -<p>A second Shakespearian piece was now determined on, and -on February 14, 1875, ‘Othello’ was brought out. This, it -was admitted, was not a very effective performance. It was -somewhat hysterical, and in his agitation the actor exhibited -movements almost panther-like, with many strange and novel -notes. The ascetic face, too, was not in harmony with the -dusky lineaments of ‘the Moor.’ Here, again, his notion of -the character was immature.</p> - -<p>In the full tide of all this prosperity, theatre-goers were -startled to learn that the shrewd and capable manager, the -energetic “old Colonel,” as he was styled by his friends, was -dead. This event occurred, with great suddenness, on Monday, -March 22, 1875. On the Sunday he had been at a banquet -at a Pall Mall restaurant in company with his leading actor -and other friends, but on the next day, complaining of a headache, -he lay down. His daughter went as usual to the theatre, -to which word was soon brought that he had passed away -peacefully. It was thought advisable to let the performance -be completed, and the strange coincidence was noted that while -his child was bewailing the loss of her theatrical sire, the old -Polonius, she was unconscious of the blow which had deprived -her of her real parent.</p> - -<p>There was much speculation as to what arrangement would -follow, and some surprise when it was announced that the -widow was ready to step intrepidly into his place, and carry on -matters exactly as before. The mainstay of the house was -ready to support her, and though bound by his engagement, he -would, had he been so inclined, have found it easy to dissolve -it, or make it impracticable. He resolved to lend his best -efforts to support the undertaking, in which his views would, of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span> -course, prevail. It was hardly a prudent arrangement, as the -result proved, for the three years that followed were scarcely -advantageous to his progress. The management was to be -of a thrifty kind, without boldness, and lacking the shrewd, -safe instincts of the late manager; while the actor had the -burden, without the freedom, of responsibility. It struck some -that the excellent Mrs. Bateman was “insisting” somewhat too -much upon the family element. The good-hearted, busy, and -managing lady was in truth unsuited to bear the burden of a -great London theatre, and what woman could be? her views -were hardly “large” enough, and too old-fashioned. The -public was not slow to find all this out, and the fortunes of the -theatre began almost at once to change. Our actor, ambitious, -and encouraged by plaudits, was eager to essay new parts; and -the manageress, entirely dependent on his talent, was naturally -anxious to gratify him. Here it was that the deliberation of -the “old Colonel” became valuable. He would debate a -question, examine it from all points, feel the public pulse, and -this rational conduct influenced his coadjutor. Irving was, in -truth, in a false position.</p> - -<p>‘Macbeth’ was speedily got ready, and produced on September -18, 1875. Miss Bateman, of Leah fame, was the Lady -Macbeth, but the performance scarcely added to her reputation. -The actor, as may be conceived, was scarcely then -suited, by temperament or physique, to the part, and by a -natural instinct made it conform to his own particular qualifications. -His conception was that of a dreamy, shrinking being, -overwhelmed with terrors and remorse, speaking in whispers, -and enfeebled by his own dismal ruminations. There was -general clamour and fierce controversy over this reading, for -by this time the sympathetic powers of the player had begun to -exercise their attraction. He had a large and passionately -enthusiastic following; but there were Guelphs and Ghibellines, -Irvingites and anti-Irvingites—the latter a scornful and even -derisive faction. I could fancy some of the old school, honest -“Jack” Ryder, for instance, as they patrolled the Strand at -mid-day, expatiating on the folly of the public: “Call <em>him</em> -an actor!” Some of them had played with Macready, “and -<em>they</em> should think they knew pretty well what acting was!” -This resentful tone has been evoked again and again with -every new actor.<a id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span></p> - -<p>Objection was taken to the uncertainty in the touches; the -figure did not “stand out” so much as it ought. Much of -this, however, was owing to the lack of effect in the Lady -Macbeth, who, assuming hoarse and “charnel-house” tones, -seemed to suggest something of Meg Merrilies. On the later -revival, however, his interpretation became bold, firm, and -consistent. The play had, however, a good deal of attraction, -and was played for some eighty nights.</p> - -<p>The King in Tennyson’s play-poem, ‘Queen Mary,’ I have -always thought one of the best, most picturesque, of Irving’s -impersonations, from the realization it offered of the characters, -impressions, feelings, of what he represented: it was complete -in every point of view. As regards its length, it might be considered -trifling; but it became important because of the <em>largeness</em> -of the place it fitted. Profound was the impression -made by the actor’s Philip—not by what he had to say, which -was little, or by what he had to do, which was less, or by the -dress or “make-up,” which was remarkable. He seemed to -speak by the expression of his figure and glances; and apart -from the meaning of his spoken words, there was another -meaning beyond—viz., the character, the almost diseased -solitude, the heartless indifference, and other odious historical -characteristics of the Prince, with which it was plain the actor -had filled himself. Mr. Whistler’s grim, antique portrait conveys -this perfectly.</p> - -<p>His extraordinary success was now to rouse the jealousy, -and even malignity, which followed his course in his earlier -days, and was not unaccompanied with coarse ridicule and -caricature, directed against the actor’s legs even. “Do you -know,” said a personage of Whistlerian principles—“do you -know, it seems to me there is a great deal of <em>pathos</em> in Irving’s -legs, particularly in the <em>left</em> leg!”</p> - -<p>A letter had appeared, in January, 1876, in <cite>Fun</cite>, the <cite>Punch</cite> -of the middle and lower class, addressed to “The Fashionable -Tragedian.” It affected alarm at the report that, “so soon as -the present failure can with dignity be withdrawn,” he intended -to startle the public and Shakespearian scholars with ‘Othello.’ -In the name of that humanity “to which, in spite of your -transcendent abilities, you cannot help belonging,” he was entreated<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span> -to forbear, if only for the sake of order and morality. -“With the hireling fashion of the press at your command, you -have induced the vulgar and unthinking to consider you a -model of histrionic ability.” In the course of the investigation -the article was traced to a writer who has since become popular -as a dramatist, and who, as might be expected, has furnished a -fair proportion of murders and other villainies to the stage. -What was behind the attack it would be difficult to say; but -there are people to whom sudden unexpected success is a subject -of irritation. Just as hypocrisy is the homage paid to vice, -so it may be that the attacks of this kind are some of the -penalties that have to be paid for success.</p> - -<p>When the theatre closed in 1876, the indefatigable manageress -organized a tour of the company in the provinces, with the view -of introducing the new tragedian to country audiences. There -was, as may be conceived, a prodigious curiosity to see him, -and the tour was very successful. She brought to the task her -usual energy and spirit of organization; though with so certain -an attraction, the tour, like a good piece, might be said to -“play itself,” on the principle of <i lang="fr">ma femme et cinq poupées</i>. I -can recall the image of the busy lady on one of these nights at -Liverpool or Birmingham, seated in her office, surrounded by -papers, the play going on close by, the music of a house -crowded to overflowing being borne to her ears. There was -here the old Nickleby flavour, and a primitive, homely spirit -that contrasts oddly with the present brilliant system of “touring,” -which must be “up to date,” as it is called, and supported -by as much lavishness and magnificence as is expected -in the Metropolis. After the piece came the pleasant little -supper at the comfortable lodgings.</p> - -<p>On this occasion he was to receive the first of those intellectual -compliments which have since been paid him by most -of the leading Universities. At Dublin he excited much -enthusiasm among the professors and students of Trinity -College. He was invited to receive an address from both -Fellows and students, which was presented by Lord Ashbourne, -lately Lord Chancellor of Ireland, then a Queen’s -Counsel. This was conceived in the most flattering and complimentary -terms.</p> - -<p>About this time there arrived in England the Italian actor -Salvini, of great reputation in his own country. He presented -himself at Drury Lane, then a great, dilapidated “Dom-Daniel” -stored with ancient scenery, wardrobes, and nearly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span> -always associated with disaster. In its chilling area, and under -these depressing conditions, he exhibited a very original and -dramatic conception of the Moor, chiefly marked by Southern -fire and passion. The earlier performances were sad to witness, -owing to the meagre attendance, but soon enthusiasm was -kindled. It was likely that mean natures, who had long -resented the favour enjoyed by the English actor, should here -see an opportunity of setting up a rival, and of diminishing, if -possible, his well-earned popularity. Comparisons of a rather -offensive kind were now freely made, and the next manœuvre -was to industriously spread reports that the English actor -was stung by an unworthy jealousy, that the very presence of -the Italian was torture to him, and that he would not even go -to see his performance. These reports were conveyed to the -Italian, who was naturally hurt, and stood coldly aloof. The -matter being thus inflamed, Irving, himself deeply resenting the -unjust imputation made on him, felt it would be undignified to -seek to justify himself for offences that he had not committed. -Everyone knows that during a long course of years no foreign -actor has visited the Lyceum without experiencing, not merely -the lavish hospitality of its manager, but a series of thoughtful -kindnesses and services. But in the present case there were -unfortunately disturbing influences at work.</p> - -<p>Indeed, as the actor day by day rose in public estimation, -the flood of caricatures, skits, etc., never relaxed. He could -afford to smile contemptuously at these efforts, and after a time -they ceased to appear. The tide was too strong to be resisted, -and the lampooners even were constrained to join in the general -eulogy.<a id="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> At one of them he must himself have been amused—a -pamphlet which dealt with his mannerisms and little -peculiarities in a very unsparing way. It was illustrated with -some malicious but clever sketches, dealing chiefly with the -favourite topic of the “legs.” My friend Mr. William Archer, -who has since become a critic of high position, about this time -also wrote a pamphlet in which he examined the actor’s claims -with some severity. Yet so judicial was the spirit of this -inquiry, that I fancy the subject of it could not have been -offended by it, owing to some compliments which seemed to -be, as it were, extorted by the actor’s merit.</p> - -<p>The new Lyceum season opened with yet one more play of -Shakespeare’s—‘Richard III.’ As might have been expected,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span> -he put aside the old, well-established Cibberian version, a most -effective piece of its kind, and restored the pure, undiluted text -of the Bard, to the gratification, it need not be said, of all true -critics and cultivated persons. It was refreshing to assist at -this intellectual feast, and to follow the original arrangement, -which had all the air of novelty.<a id="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a></p> - -<p>A happily-selected piece was to follow, the old melodrama of -‘The Courier of Lyons,’ which was brought out on May 19, -1877, under a new title, ‘The Lyons Mail.’ The success of -‘The Bells’ had shown that for a certain class of romantic -melodramas the actor had exceptional gifts; and it may be -added that he has a <i lang="fr">penchant</i> for portraying characters of -common life under exciting and trying circumstances. This -play is an admirable specimen of French workmanship. The -characters are marked, distinct, amusing; every passage seems -to add strength to the interest, and with every scene the interest -seems to grow. The original title—‘The Courier of -Lyons’—seems a more rational one than ‘The Lyons Mail.’</p> - -<p>With pieces of this kind, where one actor plays two characters, -a nice question of dramatic propriety arises, viz., to how -far the point of likeness should be carried. In real life no two -persons could be so alike as a single person, thus playing the -two characters, would be to himself. The solution I believe -to be this, that likenesses of this kind, which are recognised -even under disguise, are rather mental and intellectual, and -depend on peculiar expression—a glance from the eye, smiles, -etc. Irving, it must be said, contrived just so much likeness -in the two characters as suited the situations and the audience -also. Superficially there was a resemblance, but he suggested -the distinct individualities in the proper way. The worthy -Lesurques was destined to be one of his best characters, from -the way in which he conveyed the idea of the tranquil, innocent -merchant, so affectionate to his family, and so blameless in life.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span> -Many will recall the pleasant, smiling fashion in which he would -listen to the charges made against him.</p> - -<p>A yet bolder experiment was now to be made, and another -piece in which Charles Kean made a reputation, ‘Louis XI.,’ -was brought out on March 9, 1878. It may be said without -hesitation that this is one of the most powerful, finished, and -elaborate of all Irving’s efforts, and the one to which we would -bring, say, a foreign actor who desired to see a specimen of the -actor’s talents.</p> - -<p>This marvellous performance has ripened and improved year -by year, gaining in suggestion, fulness of detail, and perfect -ease. In no other part is he so completely the character. -There is a pleasant good-humour—a chuckling cunning—an -air of indifference, as though it were not worth while to be -angry or excited about things. His figure is a picture, and his -face, wonderfully transformed, yet seems to owe scarcely anything -to the ‘making-up.’ Nowhere does he speak so much -with his expressive features. You see the cunning thought -rising to the surface before the words. There is the hypocritical -air of candour or frankness suddenly assumed, to conceal -some villainous device. There is the genuine enjoyment -of hypocrisy, and the curious shambling walk. How admirably -graduated, too, the progress of decay and mortal sickness, with -the resistance to their encroachments. The portrait of his -Richard—not the old-established, roaring, stamping Richard of -the stage, but the weightier and more composed and refined—dwells -long on the memory, especially such touches as his wary -watchings, looking from one to the other while they talk, as if -cunningly striving to probe their thoughts; that curious scraping -of his cheek with the finger, the strange senile tones, the sudden -sharp ferocity betokening the ingrained wickedness, and the -special leer, as though the old fox were in high good humour.</p> - -<p>Irving naturally recalls with pleasure any spontaneous and -unaffected tributes which his acting has called forth. A most -flattering one is associated with ‘Louis XI.’—a critical work -which one of his admirers had specially printed, and which -enforced the actor’s view of Louis’s character. “You will -wonder,” the author said, “why we wrote and compiled this -book. A critic had said that, as nothing was really known of -the character, manners, etc., of Louis XI., an actor might take -what liberties he pleased with the subject. We prepared this -little volume to put on record a refutation of the statement, a -protest against it, and a tribute to your impersonation of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span> -character.” Another admirer had printed his various thoughts -on Charles I. This was set off with beautifully-executed etchings, -tailpieces, etc., and the whole richly bound and enshrined -in a casket. The names of these enthusiasts are not -given.<a id="FNanchor_16" href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a></p> - -<p>A few years before this time Wagner’s weird opera, ‘The -Flying Dutchman,’ had been performed in London, and the -idea had occurred to many, and not unnaturally, that here was -a character exactly suited to Irving’s methods. He was, it was -often repeated, the “ideal” Vanderdecken. He himself much -favoured the suggestion, and after a time the “Colonel” entrusted -me and my friend Wills with the task of preparing a -piece on the subject. For various reasons the plan was laid -aside, and the death of the manager and the adoption of other -projects interfered. It was, however, never lost sight of, and -after an interval I got ready the first act, which so satisfied -Irving that the scheme was once more taken up. After many -attempts and shapings and re-shapings, the piece was at last -ready—Wills having undertaken the bulk of the work, I myself -contributing, as before, the first act. The actor himself furnished -some effective situations, notably the strange and original suggestion -of the Dutchman’s being cast up on the shore and -restored to life by the waves.</p> - -<p>I recall all the pleasant incidents of this venture, the journeys -to Liverpool and Birmingham to consult on the plot and read -the piece; above all, the company of the always agreeable -Irving himself, and his placid, unaffected gaiety. Indeed, to -him apply forcibly the melodious lines—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent18">“A merrier man,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Within the limits of becoming mirth,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I never spent an hour withal.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>‘Vanderdecken,’ as it was called, was produced on July 8, -1878, but was found of too sombre a cast to attract. It was -all, as Johnson once said, “inspissated gloom,” but there was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span> -abundant praise for the picturesque figure of the actor. Nothing -could be more effective than his first appearance, when he was -revealed standing in a shadowy way beside the sailors, who -had been unconscious of his presence. This was his own -subtle suggestion. A fatal blemish was the unveiling of the -picture, on the due impressiveness of which much depended, -and which proved to be a sort of grotesque daub, greeted with -much tittering—a fatal piece of economy on the part of the -worthy manageress. An unusually sultry spell of summer that -set in caused “the booking to go all to pieces”—the box-keeper’s -consolatory expression. Our actor, however, has not lost faith -in the subject to this hour, and a year or two later he encouraged -me to make another attempt; while Miss Terry has been always -eager to attempt the heroine, in which she is confident of producing -a deep impression.</p> - -<p>At this time our actor’s position was a singular one. It had -occurred to many that there was something strange and abnormal -in the spectacle of the most conspicuous performer of -his time, the one who “drew” most money of all his contemporaries, -being under the direction of a simple, excellent lady, -somewhat old-fashioned in her ideas, and in association with a -mediocre company and economical appointments. There was -here power clearly going to waste. It soon became evident -that his talents were heavily fettered, and that he had now -attained a position which, to say the least, was inconsistent -with such surroundings. His own delicacy of feeling, and a -sense of old obligation, which, however, was really slender -enough, had long restrained him; but now, on the advice of -friends, and for the sake of his own interests, he felt that -matters could go on no longer, and that the time had arrived -for making some serious change. The balancing of obligations -is always a delicate matter, but it may be said that in such -cases quite as much is returned as is received. The successful -manager may “bring forward” the little-known actor, but the -little-known actor in return brings fortune to the manager.</p> - -<p>The situation was, in fact, a false one. Where was he to find -an opening for those sumptuous plans and artistic developments -for which the public was now ripe, and which he felt -that he, and he alone, could supply? The breach, however, -was only the occasion of the separation which must inevitably -have come later. As it was, he had suggested a change in stage -companionship: the attraction of the “leading lady,” with whom -he had been so long associated, was not, he thought, sufficient<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span> -to assist or inspire his own. As this arrangement was declined, -he felt compelled to dissolve the old partnership.</p> - -<p>It presently became known that the popular player was free, -and ready to carry out the ambitious and even magnificent -designs over which he had so long pondered. The moment -was propitious. Except the little Prince of Wales’s, there was -no theatre in London that was conducted in liberal or handsome -style, and no manager whose taste or system was of a -large or even dignified sort. Everything was old-fashioned, -meagre, and mercantile. Everything seemed in a state of -languor and decay. No one thought of lavish and judicious -outlay, the best economy in the end. There was really but -one on whom all eyes now instinctively rested as the only -person who by temperament and abilities was fitted to restore -the drama, and present it worthily, in accordance with the -growing luxurious instinct of the time.</p> - -<p>It was a rude shock for the manageress when this resolution -was communicated to her. The loss of her actor also involved -the loss of her theatre. She might have expostulated, with -Shylock:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“You take my house, when you do take the prop</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That doth sustain my house.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">It followed therefore, almost as a matter of course, that the -theatre, without any exertion on his part, would, as it were, -drop into his hands. He at once prepared to carry out his -venture on the bold and sumptuous lines which have since -made his reputation. The poor lady naturally fancied that she -had a grievance; but her complaint ought in truth to have -been directed against the hard fate which had placed her in a -position that was above her strength.<a id="FNanchor_17" href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> With much gallantry<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span> -and energy she set herself to do battle with fortune in a new -and lower sphere. She secured the old theatre at Islington, -which she partially rebuilt and beautified, and on the opening -night was encouraged by a gathering of her old friends, who -cheered her when she appeared, supported by her two faithful -daughters. Even this struggle she could not carry on long. -She took with her some of her old company, Bentley, the -Brothers Lyons, and others, and she furnished melodramas, -brought out in a somewhat rude but effective style, suited to -the lieges of the district. Later Mr. Charles Warner, greatly -daring, gave a whole course of Shakespearian characters, taking -us through the great characters <i lang="la">seriatim</i>. It was indeed a very -astonishing programme. But the truth was, she had fallen -behind the times; the old-fashioned country methods would -no longer “go down.” In a few years she gave up the weary -struggle, and, quite worn-out, passed away to join the “old -Colonel.”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1878.<br /> -THE NEW MANAGER OF THE LYCEUM—MISS TERRY—HIS -SYSTEM AND ASSISTANTS.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>The Lyceum was designed by a true architect at a time when -a great theatre was considered to be a building or monument, -like a public gallery or museum. In these days little is thought -of but the <i lang="fr">salle</i> or interior, designed to hold vast audiences in -galleries or shelves, and laid out much like a dissenting chapel. -The Lyceum is really a fine structure, with entrances in four -different streets, an imposing portico, abundance of saloons, -halls, chambers, and other <i lang="fr">dependances</i>, which are necessary -in all good theatres. There is a special grace in its lobby -and saloon, and in the flowing lines of the interior, though -they have suffered somewhat from unavoidable alterations.<a id="FNanchor_18" href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> -The stage is a truly noble one, and offers the attraction of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span> -supplying a dignity and theatrical illusion to the figures or -scenes that are exhibited upon it; thus contrasting with the -rather mean and prosaic air which the stages of most modern -houses offer. This dignified effect is secured at a heavy cost -to the manager, for every extra foot multiplies the area of scenery -to a costly degree, and requires many figures to fill the void. -Beazely, a pleasant humorist and writer of some effective -dramas, was the architect of this fine temple, as also of the -well-designed Dublin Theatre, since destroyed by fire.<a id="FNanchor_19" href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a></p> - -<p>It may be imagined that the financial portion of the transaction -could have offered little difficulty. A man of such -reputation inspires confidence; and there are always plenty -ready to come forward and support him in his venture, his -abilities being the security. A story was long industriously -circulated that he was indebted to the generosity of a noble -lady well known for her wealth and liberality, who had -actually “presented him with the lease of the theatre.” The -truth, however, was that Irving entirely relied on his own resources. -According to a statement which he found it necessary -to have circulated, he borrowed a sum of money on business -terms, which he was enabled to pay off gradually, partly out of -profits, and partly out of a substantial legacy. His first repayments -were made out of the gains of his provincial tour.</p> - -<p>The new manager’s first effort was to gather round him an -efficient and attractive company. It became presently known -that Miss Ellen Terry was to be his partner and supporter on -the stage, and it was instantly, and almost electrically, felt that -triumph had been already secured. People could see in advance, -in their mind’s eye, the gifted pair performing together in a -series of romantic plays; they could hear the voices blending, -and feel the glow of dramatic enjoyment. This important step -was heartily and even uproariously acclaimed. No manager -ever started on his course cheered by such tokens of goodwill -and encouragement, though much of this was owing to a natural -and selfish anticipation of coming enjoyment.</p> - -<p>The new actress, a member of a gifted family, was endowed -with one of those magnetically sympathetic natures, the rarest -and most precious quality a performer can have. It may be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span> -said to be “twice blessed,” blessing both him that gives and -him that takes—actor and audience. She had a winning face, -strangely expressive, even to her tip-tilted nose, “the Terry -nose,” and piquant, irregular chin; with a nervous, sinuous -figure, and a voice charged with melodious, heart-searching -accents. She indeed merely transferred to the stage that curious -air of fitful <i lang="fr">enjouement</i> which distinguished her among her friends, -which often thus supplied to her performances much that was -unfamiliar to the rest of the audience. She had, in short, a -most marked <em>personality</em>.</p> - -<p>I possess a rare and possibly unique bill of one of Miss Ellen -Terry’s earliest child-performances, which it may be interesting -to insert here:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="center">LECTURE HALL, CROYDON.</p> - -<p class="center smaller">FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY!</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Tuesday Evening, March 13th, 1860.</i></p> - -<p class="center">MISS KATE TERRY</p> - -<p class="center smaller">AND</p> - -<p class="center">MISS ELLEN TERRY,</p> - -<p class="noindent">The original representatives of Ariel, Cordelia, Arthur, Puck, etc. (which -characters were acted by them upwards of one hundred consecutive -nights, and also before her Most Gracious Majesty the Queen), at the -Royal Princess’s Theatre, when under the management of Mr. Charles -Kean, will present their new and successful</p> - -<p class="center">ILLUSTRATIVE AND MUSICAL</p> - -<p class="center">DRAWING-ROOM ENTERTAINMENT,</p> - -<p class="center">In Two Parts, entitled</p> - -<p class="center">‘DISTANT RELATIONS,’ <span class="smcap">and</span> ‘HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS,’</p> - -<p class="center">In which they will sustain several</p> - -<p class="center">CHARACTERS IN FULL COSTUME.</p> - -<p>N.B.—This entertainment was produced at the Royal Colosseum, and -represented by the Misses Kate and Ellen Terry thirty consecutive nights -to upwards of 30,000 persons—</p> - -</div> - -<p class="noindent">and so on.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span></p> - -<p>In ‘Home for the Holidays,’ the burden seems to have been -cast on Ellen Terry, who performed ‘Hector Melrose, a slight -specimen of the rising generation.’</p> - -<p>In her rather fitful course, Ellen Terry<a id="FNanchor_20" href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> had gone on the -stage, left it, and had gone on it again. Her performance at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span> -the Prince of Wales’s Theatre, the little home of comedy, in -the piece of ‘Masks and Faces,’ had left a deep impression, -and I well recall the sort of passionate intensity she put into -the part. It must be said that there was some uncertainty as -to how she was likely to acquit herself in the very important -round of characters now destined for her; but her friends and -admirers were confident that her natural dramatic instincts and -quick ability, together with the inspiration furnished by so -powerful a coadjutor, would supply all deficiencies. And these -previsions were to be amply justified. But it was the sympathetic, -passionate, and touching performance of Olivia in Mr. Wills’s -version of ‘The Vicar of Wakefield’ that had lately drawn all -eyes to her. It was felt that here was an actress possessing -“distinction” and original power. A series of these performances -at the Court Theatre, under Mr. Hare’s management, -had added to her reputation.</p> - -<p>For the opening of his theatre, the new manager did not -much care to engage actors of mark, relying on a few sound -but unpretentious performers, such as the late Mead, Swinburne, -and others.<a id="FNanchor_21" href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> On his visits to Dublin, the new manager -had met a clever, ardent young man, who had taken share in -the flattering honours offered by Trinity College. This was -the now well-known Bram Stoker, whose geniality, good-nature, -and tact were to be of much service to the enterprise. A short -time before he was in one of the public offices in Dublin; he -was now offered the post of director of the theatre, or “business-manager,” -as it is technically called. Mr. H. Loveday had -been stage-manager under the Bateman dynasty, and was continued -in his office. This gentleman is really <i lang="fr">hors ligne</i> in this -walk, being quick of resource, firm, even despotic where need -requires it, and eke genial and forbearing too. The wonderful -and ambitious development at the Lyceum has drawn on all -his resources, equipping him with an experience which few -stage-managers have opportunities of acquiring. When, as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span> -during the performance of ‘Henry VIII.,’ a crowd of over five -hundred persons passes through the stage-door of the Lyceum, a -stage-manager must needs have gifts of control of a high order -to maintain discipline and direct his forces. And who does -not know the sagacious and ever-obliging Hurst, who has controlled -the box-office for many a year!</p> - -<p>This proper selection of officials is all-important in an enterprise -of this kind. Where they are well chosen, they help to -bind the public to the house. It is well known that our manager -is well skilled in reading the book of human character, and has -rarely made a mistake in choosing his followers. On their side, -they have always shown much devotion to the interests of their -chief.</p> - -<p>Not the least important of these assistants is an accomplished -artist, Mr. Hawes Craven, the painter of the scenery, the deviser -of the many elaborate settings and tableaux which have for so -long helped to enrich the Lyceum plays. The modern methods -of scenery now require an almost architectural knowledge and -skill, from the “built-up” structures which are found necessary, -the gigantic portals and porticoes of cathedrals, houses, squares, -and statues. Monumental constructions of all kinds are contrived, -the details, carvings, etc., being modelled or wrought in -<i lang="fr">papier-mâché</i> material. It may be doubted whether this system -really helps stage illusion as it affects to do, or whether more -sincere dramatic effects would not be gained by simpler and -less laboured methods. To Mr. Craven, too, we owe the -development of what is the “medium” principle—the introduction -of atmosphere, of phantasmagoric lights of different -tones, which are more satisfactory than the same tones when -produced by ordinary colours. The variety of the effects thus -produced has been extraordinary. As might be expected, the -artistic instincts of the manager have here come in aid of the -painter, who with much readiness and versatility has been ready -to seize on the idea and give it practical shape by his craft.<a id="FNanchor_22" href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span></p> - -<p>Mr. Craven, years ago, practised his art on the boards of the -old Dublin Theatre Royal, under Mr. Harris, where his scenery -attracted attention for its brilliancy and originality. His scenes -had the breadth and effect of rich water-colour drawings, somewhat -of the Prout school. Scenic effect is now seriously interfered -with by the abundant effulgence of light in which the -stage is bathed, and in which the delicate middle tints are quite -submerged. The contrast, too, with moulded work is damaging, -and causes the painted details to have a “poorish,” flat air. -Another point to which much prominence had been given from -the first at the Lyceum is the music. A fine and full orchestra—on -an operatic scale almost—with excellent conductors, who -were often composers of reputation, was provided. This rich -and melodious entertainment sets off the play and adds to its -dignity, and may be contrasted with the meagre music ordinarily -provided in theatres.</p> - -<p>Once, travelling in the North, the manager met at a hotel a -young musician who, like himself, “was on tour,” with some -concert party it might be, and fell into conversation with him -on their respective professions. This young man chatted freely, -and imparted his ideas on music in general, and on theatre -music in particular. The manager was pleased with the freshness -and practical character of these views, and both went their -way. Long after, when thinking of a successor to Stöpel—the -old-established Lyceum conductor—he recalled this agreeable -companion, who was Mr. Hamilton Clarke, and engaged him, -at the handsome salary of some six hundred a year, to direct -the music. He was, moreover, a composer of great distinction. -His fine, picturesque overtures and incidental music to ‘The -Merchant of Venice,’ and other Lyceum pieces, still linger in -the memory. It is to be lamented that this connection was -severed. The manager has later applied for aid to such composers -as Sir Arthur Sullivan, Sir A. Mackenzie, Sir Julius -Benedict, Stanford, Jacobi, and Mr. German.</p> - -<p>When he was thus busy with preparations for inaugurating -his new ambitious venture, he had engagements to fulfil in the -country, and could only rush up to town occasionally to push -on the preparations. He tells us how, having secured a new -Horatio, a “modern young actor,” as he called him, whom he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span> -had never seen perform, he came up to town especially to hear -him go through his part. After reading it over for him in the -way he desired it to be done, Irving said, “Now you try it; I -will be the Ghost.” “So he began, and what a surprise it was! -As Horatio he apostrophized me in the most cool, familiar, -drawing-room, conventional style possible to imagine. I was -aghast, ‘No, no,’ I cried. ‘Stop, consider the situation, its -thrills of horror, the supernatural!’ ‘Oh, yes,’ he replied, ‘but -how am I to do it?’ ‘Can’t you understand it?’ I said; ‘try -again.’ He did still the same again and again. There was -nothing to be done but engage another performer.”</p> - -<p>Anticipating a little, I may say here that the Lyceum company, -though not affecting to contain any brilliant “stars,” has from -the beginning exhibited a true homogeneousness in those sound -conscientious actors who have always “discharged” their -characters in an effective way, suited to the requirements of -the piece. With a certain logical consistency, the manager -has ever considered the requirements of his audience and the -theatre. The attraction, it was understood, was to be the two -leading performers, who were to stand, as it were, before a well-studied, -well-composed background. The subsidiary characters, -it was felt, should set off the leading characters. The introduction -of Mrs. Stirling, an actress of the first rank, in such a -part as the Nurse, however welcome as a performance, almost -disturbed the dramatic harmony, and made an inferior part too -prominent. This may seem hypercritical, but there can be no -doubt as to its truth, and it shows what tact is necessary to -secure an even performance. Those members of the corps -who have been with him almost from the beginning, the manager -has thoroughly leavened with his own methods and his own -spirit, thus securing a general harmony. Such useful auxiliaries -include Johnson (a low comedian of the older school), Tyers, -Archer (another low comedian), Haviland (a most useful performer, -who improves with every year), and Andrews. Another -serviceable player was Wenman, who seemed in physique and -method to be exactly suited to Burchell in ‘Olivia.’ During -the past seasons, however, this worthy man has been removed -from the company by death. On a stranger these players might -produce little effect; but the <i lang="fr">habitués</i> of the theatre have grown -familiar with their ways and faces and figures, and would miss -them much were they absent from a new play.</p> - -<p>In addition to this permanent body, the manager is accustomed -occasionally to call to his aid performers of mark,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span> -such as Terriss and Forbes Robertson, the former an admirable -actor in special characters that are suited to his robustness, -though his powers would gain by some refining. Forbes -Robertson is a picturesque performer of many resources, who -can supply colour and passion at need. He has a fair share of -what is called “distinction”; indeed, we wonder that his position -has not ere this become more fixed and certain. But this -rests on a deeper question, and is connected with the conditions -of the stage at this moment, when the only course open to the -player is to become a “manager-actor,” and have his own theatre, -otherwise he must wander from house to house. Arthur Stirling -and Macklin—excellent, well-trained actors both—have been -found at the Lyceum, as also Mr. Bishop. Of the ladies there -are Miss Genevieve Ward, the excellent Mrs. Pauncefort (of the -school of Mrs. Chippendale), Miss Coleridge, occasionally the -vivacious Miss Kate Phillips, and Miss Emery, who takes Miss -Terry’s place in case of indisposition or fatigue.</p> - -<p>The new manager made some decorative alterations in the -theatre which, considering the little time at his disposal, did -credit to his taste and promptitude. The auditorium was -treated in sage green and turquoise blue; the old, familiar -“cameos” of Madame Vestris’s day, ivory tint, were still retained, -while the hangings were of blue silk, trimmed with amber and -gold, with white lace curtains. The ceiling was of pale blue -and gold. The stalls were upholstered in blue, “a special -blue” it was called; escaloped shells were used to shield the -glare of the footlights. The dressing-rooms of the performers, -the Royal box, and Lady Burdett-Coutts’ box were all handsomely -decorated and re-arranged, the whole being directed by -Mr. A. Darbyshire, a Manchester architect. This, however, -was but the beginning of a long series of structural alterations, -additions, and costly decorations, pursued over a term of a -little over a dozen years.</p> - -<p>On Monday, December 30, 1878, the theatre was opened -with the revived ‘Hamlet.’ This was the first of those glittering -nights—<i lang="fr">premières</i>—which have since become a feature of a -London season. From the brilliancy of the company—which -usually includes all that is notable in the arts and professions—as -well as from the rich dresses, jewels, and flowers, which -suggest the old opera nights, the spectacle has become one of -extraordinary interest, and invitations are eagerly sought. Here -are seen the regular <i lang="fr">habitués</i>, who from the first have been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span> -always invited: for the constancy of the manager to his old -friends is well known.</p> - -<p>The play was given with new scenery, dresses, music, etc. -The aim was to cast over the whole a poetical and dreamy -glamour, which was exhibited conspicuously in the treatment -of the opening scenes when the Ghost appeared. There were -the mysterious battlements seen at a distance, shadowy walls, -and the cold blue of breaking day. There were fine halls, with -arches and thick pillars of Norman pattern. Irving’s version -of the part was in the main the same as before, but it was noted -that he had moderated it, as it were; it became more thoughtful.</p> - -<p>Of course, much interest and speculation was excited by the -new actress, who exhibited all her charming grace and winsomeness, -with a tender piteousness, when the occasion called. -“Why,” she told an interviewer, “I am so high strung on a -first night that if I realized there was an audience in front -staring at me, I should fly off and be <em>down at Winchester in -two twos</em>!” On this momentous night of trial she thought -she had completely failed, and without waiting for the fifth act -she flung herself into the arms of a friend, repeating, “I have -failed, I have failed!” She drove up and down the Embankment -half a dozen times before she found courage to go home.</p> - -<p>This successful inauguration of his venture was to bear fruit -in a long series of important pieces, each produced with all the -advantages that unsparing labour, good taste, study, and expense -could supply. Who could have dreamed, or did <em>he</em> dream on -that night? that no fewer than nine of Shakespeare’s greatest -plays, a liberal education for audiences, were destined to be -his contribution to “the public stock of harmless pleasure”? -Every one of taste is under a serious obligation to him, having -consciously or unconsciously learnt much from this accomplished -man.</p> - -<p>On this occasion, adopting a custom since always adhered -to, the manager had his arrangement of the play printed, with -an introduction by a good Shakespearian student, who was -destined to be a well-known figure in the <i lang="fr">entourage</i> of the -Lyceum. Albeit a little <i lang="fr">tête montée</i>, “Frank Marshall,” with -his excited, bustling ways, and eccentric exterior, seems now to -be missed. He was always <i lang="fr">bon enfant</i>. He had written one -very pleasing comedy, ‘False Shame,’ and was also rated as a -high authority on all Shakespearian matters. He published an -elaborate <cite>Study of Hamlet</cite>, and later induced Irving to join -him in an ambitious edition of Shakespeare, which has recently<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span> -been completed. He was also a passionate bibliomaniac, though -not a very judicious one, lacking the necessary restraint and -judgment. He had somewhat of a troubled course, like so -many a London <i lang="fr">littérateur</i>.</p> - -<p>At this time the average theatrical criticism, from lack of -suitable stimulant to excite it, was not nearly so discriminating -as it is now, when there is a body of well-trained, capable men, -who sign their names and carry out their duty with much -independence. It is extraordinary what a change has taken -place. At the opening of Irving’s management there was certainly -a tendency to wholesale and lavish panegyric. Not unnaturally, -too, for all were grateful to one who was making such -exertion to restore the stage to elegance. Some of the ordinary -newspapers, however, overwhelmed him with their rather tedious, -indiscriminate praises; it seemed as though too much could -not be said. There is no praise where <em>everything</em> is praised; -nor is such very acceptable to its object. A really candid discussion -on the interpretation of a character, with reasonable -objections duly made, and argued out with respect, and suggestions -put forward—this becomes of real profit to the performer. -Thus in one single short criticism on a character of Garrick’s—he -was once playing a gentleman disguised as a valet—Johnson -has furnished not only Garrick, but all players too, with an -invaluable principle which is the foundation of all acting: -“No, sir; he does not let the gentleman break out through -the footman.”</p> - -<p>A new play at the Lyceum is rarely concluded without a -speech being insisted upon. Irving himself has favoured this -practice, but reluctantly, yielding only to the irresistible pressure -of ardent and clamorous admirers. The system now -obtains at every theatre where there is an “actor-manager.” -But there can be no question but that it is an abuse, and a -perilous one. It encourages a familiarity, and often insolence, -which shakes authority. The manager, when he makes his -speech, seems to invite the galleries down on to his stage, and it -is to be noticed that the denizens of these places are growing -bolder, and fancy, not unreasonably, that they are entitled to -have <em>their</em> speech, as the manager has his.<a id="FNanchor_23" href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span></p> - -<p>The manager has been always guided by the principle of -alternating his greater attempts with others on a more moderate -and less pretentious scale. With this view he brought out, on -April 17, 1879, the ever-attractive ‘Lady of Lyons’—which -would seem naturally suited to him and his companion. He -was himself in sympathy with the piece, and prepared it on the -most romantic and picturesque lines. It has been usually presented -in a stagey, declamatory fashion, as affording opportunity -to the two leading performers for exhibiting a robustious -or elocutionary passion. It was determined to tone the whole -down, as it were, and present it as an interesting love-story, -treated with restraint. Nothing could be more pleasing than -the series of scenes thus unfolded, set off by the not unpicturesque -costumes of the revolutionary era. It is difficult -to conceive now of a Pauline otherwise attired. It would -seem that a play always presents itself to our manager’s eye as -a series of poetical scenes which take shape before him, with -all their scenery, dresses, and situations. As he muses over -them they fall into their place—the figures move; a happy -suitable background suggests itself, with new and striking -arrangements; and thus the whole order and tone of the piece -furnishes him with inspiration.</p> - -<p>Indeed, it must be confessed that there are few plays we -should be less inclined to part with than this hackneyed and -well-worn drama. The “casual sight” of that familiar title on -the red-brick corner wall in some country or manufacturing -town, it may be weeks old—the old paper flapping flag-like—always -touches a welcome note, and the names of characters -have a romantic sound. In the story there is the charm of -simple effects and primitive emotion; it is worked out without -violence or straining, and all through the ordinary sympathies -are firmly struck, and in the most touching way. Tinselly or -superficial as many have pronounced the piece, there is depth -in it. So artfully is it compounded that it is possible to play -the two characters in half-a-dozen different ways; and clever -actors have exerted themselves to gloss over the one weak -spot in Melnotte’s character—the unworthy deception, which -involves loss of respect. Pauline, however, is a most charming -character, from the mixture of emotions; if played, that is, in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span> -a tender, impulsive way, and not made a vehicle for elocutionary -display. The gracious, engaging part of the heroine -has been essayed by our most graceful actresses, after being -created by the once irresistible Miss Helen Faucit. For over -fifty years this drama has held its ground, and is always being -performed. The young beginner, just stepping on the boards, -turns fondly to the effective “gardener’s son,” and is all but -certain that he could deliver the passage ending, “<em>Dost like the -picture?</em>”—a burst often smiled at, but never failing to tell. -Every one of the characters is good and actable, and, though -we may have seen it fifty times, as most playgoers have, there -is always a reserve of novelty and attraction left which is -certain to interest.</p> - -<p>On this occasion, the old, well-worn drama was so picturesquely -set forth, that it seemed to offer a new pastoral charm. -In Irving’s Claude there was a sincerity and earnestness which -went far to neutralize these highly artificial, not to say “high-flown,” -passages which have so often excited merriment. Miss -Terry, as may be conceived, was perfectly suited in her -character—the ever-charming Pauline; and displayed an abundance -of spontaneousness, sympathy, and tenderness.</p> - -<p>The public was at this time to learn with interest that the -actor was to accompany Lady Burdett-Coutts on a voyage to -the Mediterranean in her yacht <i>The Walrus</i>, and all was -speculation as to the party and their movements. One of -her guests was an agreeable young American named Bartlett, -now better known as Mr. Burdett-Coutts, since become -the husband of the lady. During this pleasant voyage <i>The -Walrus</i> directed her course to Venice and various Italian -cities—all new and welcome to our actor, who was at the -same time taking stock of the manners, customs, dresses, etc., -of the country, and acquiring, as it were, the general flavour -and <i lang="fr">couleur locale</i>. His scene-painter had also found his way -there, and was filling his sketch-book with rich “bits of -colour,” picturesque streets, and buildings. The manager was, -in fact, pondering over a fresh Shakespearian venture—an -Italian play, which was to be produced with the new season. -He was, in fact, about to set on the stage ‘The Merchant of -Venice,’ with every aid that money and taste could supply. -The moment this selection was known, it was felt almost -universally that it was exactly the piece that should have been -chosen. Everyone anticipated by a sort of instinct what entertainment -was in store for them: for here was the part and here<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span> -was the actor. Notwithstanding the elaborate character of -the preparations, the whole was “got up” in some four weeks, -though this period did not comprise the long course of private -study and meditation during which the scheme was gradually -matured in his mind. When on his yachting expedition he -had taken advantage of a hasty visit to Tangier to purchase -Moorish costumes to be used in the Shakespearian spectacle -he was preparing.</p> - -<p>To fill up the interval he got ready Colman’s drama ‘The -Iron Chest,’ produced on September 27, 1879. This powerful -but lugubrious piece has always had an unaccountable attraction -for tragedians. Sir Edward Mortimer belongs, indeed, to -the family of Sir Giles Overreach. The character offered -temptation to our actor from its long-sustained, mournful, and -poetical soliloquies, in which the state of the remorseful soul -was laid bare at protracted length; but, though modified and -altered, the piece is hopelessly old-fashioned. It is impossible -in our day to accept seriously a “band of robbers,” who moreover -live in “the forest”; and the “proofs” of Sir Edward’s -guilt, a knife and blood-stained cloth, carefully preserved in an -old chest which is always in sight, have a burlesque air.</p> - -<p>Irving very successfully presented the image of the tall, wan, -haggard man, a prey to secret remorse and sorrow. Wilford, -the secretary, is by anticipation, as it were, in possession of the -terrible secret of the murder, and is himself a character of -much force and masterful control. He is really the complement -of the leading personage. But Norman Forbes—one of -the Forbes Robertson family, <i lang="la">ingenuus puer</i>, and likewise <i lang="la">bonæ -indolis</i>—made of this part merely an engaging youth, who -certainly ought to have given no anxiety in the world to a -conscience-stricken murderer. The terrors of Sir Edward -would have had more force and effect had he been in presence -of a more robust and resolute personage—one who was not to -be drawn off the scent, or shaken off his prey. This piece well -served its purpose as “a stop-gap” until the new one was -ready.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1879.<br /> -‘THE MERCHANT OF VENICE.’</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>This great and attractive play was now ready: all was anticipation -and eager interest The night of its production—November -1, 1879—was a festive one. The house was most brilliant: -and indeed this may be accounted the first <em>regular</em>, official -Lyceum <i lang="fr">première</i>. I recall that among the audience were Tom -Taylor and Henry Byron, names that now seem ghost-like, so -rapidly do literary shadows depart. Like some rich Eastern -dream, steeped in colours and crowded with exquisite figures -of enchantment, the gorgeous vision of the pageant seems -now to rise in the cold, sober daylight. As a view of Venetian -life, manners, and scenery, it has never been matched. The -figures seemed to have a grace that belonged not to the -beings that pace, and declaim upon, the boards. Add the -background, the rich exquisite dresses, the truly noble scenery—a -revel of colour, yet mellowed—the elegant theatre itself -crammed with an audience that even the Lyceum had not -witnessed, and it may be conceived what a night it was. The -scenery alone would take an essay to itself, and it is hard to -say which of the three artists engaged most excelled. The -noble colonnade of the ducal palace was grand and imposing; -so was the lovely interior of Portia’s house at Belmont, with its -splendid amber hangings and pearl-gray tones, its archings and -spacious perspective. But the Court scene, with its ceiling -painted in the Verrio style, its portraits of Doges, the crimson -walls with gilt carvings, and the admirable arrangements of the -throne, etc., surely for taste, contrivance, and effect has never -been matched. The whole effect was produced by the painting, -not by built-up structures. The dresses too—groupings, -servants, and retainers—what sumptuousness! The pictures -of Moroni and Titian had been studied for the dove-coloured -cloaks and jerkins, the violet merchant’s gown of Antonio, -the short hats—like those of our day—and the frills. The -general tone was that of one of Paolo Veronese’s pictures—as -gorgeous and dazzling as the <i lang="fr">mélange</i> of dappled colour in -the great Louvre picture.</p> - -<p>Shylock was not the conventional Hebrew usurer with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span> -patriarchal beard and flowing robe, dirty and hook-nosed, but a -picturesque and refined Italianized Jew, genteelly dressed: a -dealer in money, in the country of Lorenzo de’ Medici, where -there is an aristocracy of merchants. His eyes are dark and -piercing, his face is sallow, his hair spare and turning gray; he -wears a black cap, a brown gaberdine faced with black, and a -short robe underneath.</p> - -<p>The “Trial scene,” with its shifting passions, would have -stamped Irving as a fine actor. See him as he enters, having -laid aside his gaberdine and stick, and arrayed in his short-skirted -gown, not with flowing but tightened sleeves, so that this -spareness seems to lend a general gauntness to his appearance. -There he stands, with eyes half furtively, half distrustfully -following the Judge as he speaks. When called upon to -answer the appeal made to him “from the bench,” how -different from the expected conventional declaration of violent -hatred! Instead, his explanation is given with an artful adroitness -as if <em>drawn</em> from him. Thus, “If you deny it” is a -reminder given with true and respectful dignity, not a threat; -and when he further declares that it “is his humour,” there is -a candour which might commend his case, though he cannot -restrain a gloating look at his prey. But as he dwells on the -point, and gives instances of other men’s loathing, this malignity -seems to carry him away, and, complacent in the logic of -his illustration of the “gaping pig” and “harmless necessary -cat,” he bows low with a Voltairean smile, and asks, “<em>Are you -answered?</em>” How significant, too, his tapping the bag of -gold several times with his knife, in rejection of the double -sum offered, meant as a calm business-like refusal; and the -“I would have my bond!” emphasized with a meaning clutch. -Then the conclusion, “Fie upon your law,” delivered with -folded arms and a haughty dignity; indeed, a barrister might -find profit here, and study the art of putting a case with adroitness -and weight. But when Antonio arrives his eyes follow -him with a certain uneasy distrust, and on Bellario’s letter -being read out he listens with a quiet interest, plucking his -beard a little nervously. As, however, he sees the tone the -young lawyer takes, he puts on a most deferential and confidential -manner, which colours his various compliments: “O -wise young Judge,” “A Daniel,” etc., becoming almost wheedling. -And when he pleads his oath—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Shall I lay perjury upon my soul?</div> - <div class="verse indent0">No, not for Venice!”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span></p> - -<p class="noindent">there is a hypocritical earnestness, as if he were giving his -reason privately to the counsel, though there is a strange, -indescribable sneer conveyed in that “not for Venice.” Then -the compliment to Portia, “How much more elder art thou than -thy looks!” which he utters, crouching low, with a smiling, even -leering, admiration, but admiration given for what is on his own -side. And what follows opens a most natural piece of business, -arising out of the sort of confidential intimacy which he -would establish between them—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent22">“Ay, his breast,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">So says the bond;—Doth it not, noble judge?</div> - <div class="verse indent0"><em>Nearest his heart</em>, those are the very words”;</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">the latter words pronounced with canine ferocity, his eyes -straining over the other’s shoulders, while he points with his -knife—secure, too, that the other will agree with him. He -fancies that he has brought over the counsel to his side. And -it may be added that this knife is not flourished in the butcher’s -style we are accustomed to; it is more delicately treated, as -though something surgical were contemplated. When bidden -to “have by some surgeon,” nothing could be better than the -sham curiosity with which he affects to search the bond for -such a proviso, letting his knife travel down the lines, and the -tone of “I cannot find it,” in a cold, helpless way, as if he had -looked out of courtesy to his “young Judge,” who appeared to -be on his side. The latter at last declares that there is no -alternative, but that Antonio must yield his bosom to the -knife; then the Jew’s impatience seems to override his -courtesies, his gloating eyes never turn from his victim, and -with greedy ferocity he advances suddenly with “Come, prepare!” -When, however, Portia makes her “point” about the -“drop of blood,” he drops his scales with a start; and, -Gratiano taunting him, his eyes turn with a dazed look from -one to the other; he says slowly, “Is—that—the—law?” -Checked more and more in his reluctant offers, he at last -bursts out with a demoniac snarl—“Why, then, the devil give -him good of it!” Finally he turns to leave, tottering away -bewildered and utterly broken. As may be imagined, the new -Shylock excited a vast deal of controversy. The “old school” -was scornful; and here again it would have been worth hearing -the worthy Jack Ryder—whom we still must take to be -the type of the good old past—on the subject.</p> - -<p>Nothing was more remarkable than the general effect of this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span> -fine and thoughtful representation upon the public. It was a -distinct education, too, and set everyone discussing and reading. -Admittedly one result was the great increase in the sale -of editions of Shakespeare’s works; and the ephemeral literature -engendered in the shape of articles, criticisms, and illustrations -of all kinds was truly extraordinary. Here again was -heard the harsh note of the jealous and the envious. There -was plenty of fair and honest dissent as to the interpretation of -the play, with some reasonably argued protests against the -over-abundant decoration.</p> - -<p>The hundredth night of the run of this prodigiously successful -revival was celebrated in hospitable fashion by a supper, to -which all that was artistic, literary, and fashionable—<i lang="fr">tout -Londres</i> in short—was bidden. The night was Saturday, -February 14, 1880, the hour half-past eleven. As soon as the -piece was terminated a wonderful <i lang="fr">tour de force</i> was accomplished. -In an incredibly short space of time—some forty -minutes, I believe—an enormous marquee, striped red and -white, that enclosed the whole of the stage, was set up; the -tables were arranged and spread with “all the luxuries of the -season” with magic rapidity. An enjoyable night followed. -The host’s health was given by that accomplished man, and -man of elegant tastes, Lord Houghton, in what was thought a -curiously <i lang="fr">mal à propos</i> speech. After conventional eulogiums, -he could not resist some half-sarcastic remarks as to “this new -method of adorning Shakespeare.” He condemned the system -of long “runs,” which he contrasted with that of his youth, -when pieces were given not oftener than once or twice in the -week. He then praised the improvement in the manners of -the profession, “so that the tradition of good breeding and -high conduct was not confined to special families like the -Kembles, or to special individuals like Mr. Irving himself, but -was spread over the profession, so that families of condition -were ready to allow their children to go on the stage. <em>We put -our sons and daughters into it.</em>” I recall now the genuine -indignation and roughly-expressed sentiments of some leading -performers and critics who were sitting near me at this very -awkward compliment. He then proceeded to speak of the new -impersonation, describing how he had seen a Shylock, formerly -considered a ferocious monster, but who had, under their host’s -treatment, become a “gentleman of the Jewish persuasion, in -voice very like a Rothschild, afflicted with a stupid servant and -wilful and pernicious daughter, to be eventually foiled by a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span> -very charming woman. But there was one character Mr. Irving -would never pervert or misrepresent, and that was his own,” etc.</p> - -<p>Never was the power and good-humour—the <i lang="fr">bonhomie</i>—of -the manager more happily displayed than in his reply. As was -said at the time, it showed him in quite a new light. Taken -wholly unawares—for whatever preparation he might have made -was, he said, “rendered useless by the unexpected tone of Lord -Houghton’s remarks”-he was thrown on his impromptu resources, -and proved that he really possessed what is called -debating power. He spoke without hesitation, and with much -good sense and playful humour put aside these blended compliments -and sarcasms.</p> - -<p>Some time before the manager, who was on friendly terms -with the gifted Helen Faucit, determined to revive a piece in -which she had once made a deep impression, viz., ‘King Réné’s -Daughter.’ This poem, translated by her husband, set out the -thoughts and feelings of a young girl in the contrasted conditions -of blindness and of sight recovered. With a natural -enthusiasm for his art, Irving persuaded the actress, who had -long since withdrawn from the stage, to emerge from her retirement -and play her old character “for one night only.” This -news really stirred the hearts of true playgoers, who recalled -this actress in her old days of enchantment, when she was in -her prime, truly classical and elegant in every pose, playing the -pathetic Antigone. But, alas! for the old Antigone dreams; -we could have wished that we had stayed away! The actress’s -devices seemed to have hung too long a “rusty mail, and -seemed quite out of fashion.” Irving did all he could, in an -almost chivalrous style, and it was certainly a kindly act of admiration -and enthusiasm for his art to think of such a revival. -Such homage deserved at least tolerance or recognition.</p> - -<p>Miss Terry herself had always fancied the character of -Iolanthe, and it was now proposed to give the play as an after-piece -to ‘The Merchant of Venice,’ a substantial meal for -one night. Our heroine made a tender, natural, and highly -emotional character of it. A new version or adaptation from -the Danish had been made, for obvious reasons, by the trusty -Wills: the piece was set off by one really lovely scene, which -represented the heart of some deep grove, that seemed almost -inaccessible to us, weird and jungle-like. A golden, gorgeous -light played on the trees capriciously; there was a rich tangle -of huge tropical flowers; while behind, the tall, bare trunks of -trees were ranged close together like sentinels. Golden doors<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span> -opened with a musical chime, or clang; strange, weird music, as -of æolian harps, floated up now and again. With this background, -knightly figures of the Arthurian pattern and ethereal -maidens were seen to float before us. Miss Terry’s conception -of the maid was not Miss Faucit’s, which was that of a placid, -rather cold and elegant being. She cast over the character a -rapture, as though she were all love and impulse, with an -inexpressible tenderness and devotional trust, as when she -exclaimed, “I <em>go</em> to find the light!” This sort of rapture also -tinged Mr. Irving’s character, and the audience were lifted into -a region where emotion reigned supreme.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1880.<br /> -‘THE CORSICAN BROTHERS’ AND ‘THE CUP.’</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>With his usual tact the manager had determined on a change -of entertainment which should offer a marked contrast to the -classical success just obtained, and was now meditating a -revival of the once popular romantic drama, ‘The Corsican -Brothers,’ with all its spectral effects—certainly one of the best -of many admirably-constructed and effective French pieces. -To such a group belong the absorbing ‘Two Orphans,’ ‘Thirty -Years of a Gambler’s Life,’ ‘Victorine,’ and others. ‘The -Lady of Lyons’ is the only one of our <i lang="fr">répertoire</i> that can be -put beside these ingenious efforts. Some thirty years ago, -when it was produced at the Princess’s, the horny-voiced -Charles Kean performing the Brothers, it took hold of the -public with a sort of fascination—the strange music of Stöpel, -and the mysterious, gliding progress of the murdered brother -across the stage, enthralling everyone. There was a story at -the time that the acts, sent over from Paris in separate parcels -for translation, had become transposed, the second act being -placed first, and this order was retained in the representation -with some benefit to the play. This may be a legend; but the -fact is that either act could come first without making any serious -difference.</p> - -<p>Magnificent and attractive as was the mounting of this piece -at the time, it was really excelled in sumptuousness on its later<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span> -revival in 1891. The experience of ten years had made the -manager feel a certainty in the results of his own efforts; his -touch had become sure; the beautiful and striking effects -were developed naturally, without that undue emphasis which -often disturbs the onward course of a piece. All his agents -had grown skilled in the resources of the scene; and he himself, -enjoying this security, and confident as would be a rider -on the back of a well-trained horse, could give his undoubted -fancy and imagination full range. Hence that fine, unobtrusive -harmony which now reigns in all his pictures. Even now -the wonderful opera house, the forest glades, the <i lang="fr">salon</i> in Paris, -all rise before us. Nor was there less art shown in the subdued -tone of mystery which it was contrived to throw over the scenes. -The scenes themselves, even those of reckless gaiety, seemed -to strike this “awesome” note. Much as the familiar “ghost -tune” was welcomed, more mysterious, as it always seemed to -me, was the “creepy variation” on the original theme, devised -by Mr. H. Clarke, and which stole in mournfully at some impending -crisis all through the piece. There was some criticism -on the D’Orsay costumes of the piece; the short-waisted waist-coats, -the broad-brimmed opera hats, and the rich cravats—<i lang="fr">Joinvilles</i>, -as they used to be called. These lent a piquancy, -and yet were not too remote from the present time. Terriss, -it must be said, was lacking in elegance and “distinction.” -There always lingers in the memory the image of the smooth -grace and courtesies of Alfred Wigan, who really made a -dramatic character of the part—sympathetic and exciting -interest. It is in these things that we miss the style, the bearing -which is itself acting, without utterance of a word, and -which now seems to be a lost art. One result of this treatment, -as Mr. Clement Scott truly pointed out, was the shifting -of sympathies. “Château-Renaud was, no doubt, a villain, but -he was one of the first class, and with magnetic power in him. -He had won for himself a high place. He was cold as steel, -and reserved. For him to deal with Louis was child’s play. -And yet all this was reversed: it was Louis that dominated the -situation; no one felt the least apprehension for his fate.” This -is a judicious criticism.</p> - -<p>Familiarity has now somewhat dulled the effect of the gliding -entrance of the ghostly Louis, which at first seemed almost -supernatural. The art was in making the figure rise as it -advanced, and an ingenious contrivance was devised by one of -the stage foremen. It was a curious feeling to find oneself<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span> -in the cavernous regions below the stage, and see the manager -rush down and hurriedly place himself on the trap to be -worked slowly upwards.<a id="FNanchor_24" href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a></p> - -<p>The use of intense light has favoured the introduction of -new effects in the shape of transparent scenery; that is, of a -scene that looks like any ordinary one, but is painted on a thick -gauzy material. Thus, in the first act, the back of the scene -in the Corsican Palace is of this material, through which the -tableau of the Paris duel is shown, a fierce light being cast -upon it. In the original representation the whole wall descended -and revealed the scene. The upper half ascending, the other -offers something of a magic-lantern or phantasmagorian air. -The same material is used in the dream in ‘The Bells,’ when -the spectral trial is seen going on, made mysterious and misty -by the interposition of this gauze.</p> - -<p>In the duel scene one of the swords is broken by an accident; -the other combatant breaks his across his knee, that the duel -may proceed “on equal terms.” It is not, of course, to be -supposed that a sword is broken every night. They are made -with a slight rivet and a little solder, the fitting being done -every morning, so that the pieces are easily parted. But few -note how artfully the performers change their weapons; for in -the early stages of the duel the flourishings and passes would -have soon caused the fragments to separate. It is done during -the intervals of rest, when the combatants lean on the seconds -and gather strength for the second “round,” and one gets his -new weapon from behind a tree, the other from behind a -prostrate log.</p> - -<p>But it is in the next act that the series of elaborate set scenes -succeeding each other entails the most serious difficulties, only -to be overcome in one way—viz., by the employment of an -enormous number of persons. Few modern scenes were more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span> -striking than that of the Opera House lit <i lang="it">à giorno</i>, with its -grand chandelier and smaller clusters running round. The -blaze of light was prodigious; for this some five thousand feet -of gas-tubing had to be laid down, the floor covered with -snake-like coils of indiarubber pipes, and the whole to be contrived -so as to be controlled from a single centre-pipe. There -were rows of boxes with crimson curtains, the spectators filling -them—some faces being painted in, others being represented -by living persons. Yet nothing could be more simple than the -elements of this Opera House. From the audience portion -one would fancy that it was an elaborately built and costly -structure. It was nothing but two light screens pierced with -openings, but most artfully arranged and coloured. At its -close, down came the rich tableau curtains, while behind them -descended the cloth with the representation of the lobby scene -in the Opera House. It used to be customary for the manager’s -friends to put on a mask and domino and mingle with the gay -throng of roysterers in the Opera House scene, or to take a -place in one of the practicable boxes and survey the whole—and -a curious scene it was. A cosy supper in the Beef-steak -room, and a pleasant <i lang="fr">causerie</i> through the small hours, concluded -a delightful and rather original form of a night’s entertainment. -This was followed by the double rooms of the -supper party, a very striking scene: two richly-furnished -rooms, Aubusson carpets, a pianoforte, nearly twenty chairs, -sofas, tables, clocks, and a supper-table covered with delicacies, -champagne bottles, flowers, etc. This is succeeded almost -instantly by a scene occupying the same space—that of the -forest, requiring the minutest treatment, innumerable properties, -real trees, etc. This is how it is contrived. The instant the -tableau curtains are dropped, the auxiliaries rush on the scene; -away to right and left fly the portions of the Parisian drawing-room: -tables, chairs, piano, sofa, vanish in an instant. Men -appear carrying tall saplings fixed in stands; one lays down -the strip of frozen pond, another the prostrate trunk of a tree—everyone -from practice knowing the exact place of the particular -article he is appointed to carry. Others arrive with -bags of sand, which are emptied and strewn on the floor; the -circular tree is in position, the limelights ready. The transformation -was effected, in what space of time will the reader -imagine? In thirty-eight <em>seconds</em>, by the stage-manager’s watch. -By that time the tableau had been drawn aside, and Château-Renaud<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span> -and his friend Maugiron were descending into the -gloomy glade after their carriage had broken down.<a id="FNanchor_25" href="#Footnote_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a></p> - -<p>As we call up the memories of the Lyceum performances, -with what a series of picturesque visions is our memory furnished—poetical -Shakespearian pageants; romantic melodramatic -stories, set forth with elegance and <i lang="fr">vraisemblance</i>; plays of -pathetic or domestic interest; exhilarating comedies; with -highly dramatic poems, written by the late Poet Laureate, -Wills, and others. Indeed, who could have conceived on the -opening night of the Lyceum management, when ‘Hamlet’ -was to be brought out, that this was to be the first of a regular -series—viz., nine gorgeous and ambitious presentations of -Shakespearian pieces, each involving almost stupendous efforts, -intellectual and physical, that we were to see in succession -‘The Merchant of Venice,’ ‘Romeo and Juliet,’ ‘Much -Ado About Nothing,’ ‘Othello,’ ‘Twelfth Night,’ ‘Macbeth,’ -‘Henry VIII.,’ and ‘King Lear’? What a gift to the public -in the shape of the attendant associations, in the glimpses of -Italian and other scenery, the rich costumes, the archæology!</p> - -<p>The late Laureate, not contented with the popularity which -his poems have won, always “hankered” after the entrancing -publicity and excitement of the theatre. He made many -an attempt in this direction, and his list of performed dramas -is a fairly long one; few, however, have enjoyed any signal -success, save perhaps the last, recently produced in the United -States. To one indeed—witness the unlucky ‘Promise of -May’—the regular “first-nighter,” as he is called, was indebted -for an amusing and enjoyable evening’s entertainment. It must -be conceded, however, that there is a dramatic tone or flavour<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span> -about his pieces which is attractive, in spite of all deficiencies, -and anyone who could not see a touching grace and elegance -in such a piece as ‘The Falcon,’ weak as it is in treatment, -must have little taste or feeling. So with ‘Queen Mary,’ which -had a certain grim power, and, above all, local colour. His -own striking success in the character of King Philip was an -agreeable recollection for Irving; and he now lent himself with -much enthusiasm to a project for bringing forward a new drama -by the poet. The preparations for this elegant play were of -the most lavish and unstinted kind. Nothing, literally, was -spared in the outlay of either study, thought, money, or art. -The manager usually follows an eclectic system, choosing his -<i lang="fr">aides</i> and assistants as they appear suited to each play. Thus -an architect of literary tastes, Mr. Knowles, was called in to -design a regular Temple-interior, which was the principal scene, -and which was to be treated, <i lang="la">secundum artem</i>, in professional -style. And so it rose with all its pillars and pediments “behind -the scenes.”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent10">“No ponderous axes rung;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Like some tall palm the mystic fabric sprung.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The name of the new piece was ‘The Cup,’ a fine “barbarian” -story, strangely interesting and even fascinating. It -was, of course, diffuse and expanded to inordinate length. And -there were many pleasant stories afloat of the poet contending -“for the dear life” for his “ewe lambs,” and every line of his -poetry; the manager, in his pleasant, placid way—but firm -withal—quietly insisting on the most abundant compression.</p> - -<p>The night of performance was that of January 3, 1881, when -the beautiful play-poem was at last set before the audience in -all its attraction. It still lingers in the memory with an inexpressible -charm, breathing poetry and romance. We shall -ever look back fondly to ‘The Cup,’ with its exquisite setting, -and lament heartily that others did not so cordially or enthusiastically -appreciate it. There was something so fascinating -about the play, something so refining, and also so -“fantastical,” that though lacking the strong thews and muscles -of a regular drama, it satisfied eye and ear. As it floated -before us, in airy, evanescent fashion, it seemed to recall the -lines that wind up the most charming of Shakespeare’s plays, -when the revels now had ended, and all had “melted into air, -into thin air.” The noble Temple, with its rich mouldings, -was destined too soon, alas! to pass away into the same dark<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span> -grave of so many noble creations. On the two chief characters, -both full of tragic power, the eye rested with an almost entrancing -interest. Never did Irving <em>act</em> better—that is, never -did he convey by his look and tones the evidence of the -barbaric conception within him. There was a fine, pagan, -reckless savagery, yet controlled by dignity. Miss Terry’s -Camma returns to the memory like the fragment of a dream. -The delightful creation was brought before us more by her -sympathetic bearing and motion than by speech; what music -was there in those tones, pitched in low, melodious key, interpreting -the music of Tennyson! Her face and outline of -figure, refined and poetical as they were, became more refined -still in association with the lovely scenery and its surroundings. -She seemed to belong to the mythological past. There was a -strange calm towards the close, and all through no undue -theatrical emphasis or faulty tone of recitation to disturb that -dreamy sense.</p> - -<p>It was not a little disheartening to think that this “entire, -perfect chrysolite” was received with a rather cold admiration, -or at least not with the enthusiasm it richly merited. The -apathetic crowd scarcely appreciated the too delicate fare set -before it, we scarcely know why. I suppose that it had not -sufficient <em>robustness</em>, as it is called. After some weeks the -manager found it needful to supplement the attraction of the -play by the revived ‘Corsican Brothers.’ It may be conceived -what a strain<a id="FNanchor_26" href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> was here on the resources, not merely of the -actors, but even of all who were concerned with the scenery -and properties. Two important pieces had to be treated and -manipulated within an incredibly short space of time.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1881.<br /> -‘OTHELLO’ AND ‘THE TWO ROSES’ REVIVED.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>At this time there came to London an American actor whose -reputation in his own country was very high, and for whom it -was claimed that, as a legitimate performer, he was superior to -all rivals. This was Mr. Edwin Booth. He was welcomed -with cordiality and much curiosity, and by none was he received -with such hearty goodwill as by the manager of the -Lyceum. Unluckily, he had made his arrangements injudiciously, -having agreed to appear under a management which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span> -was quite unsuited to the proper exhibition of his gifts. The -Princess’s Theatre was a house devoted to melodrama of the -commoner type, and was directed by commercial rather than by -æsthetic principles. This mistake proved fatal. The manager, -finding that there was no likelihood of success, was not inclined -to waste his resources, and, no doubt to the anguish of the -actor, brought out the pieces in a meagre fashion that was -consistent with the traditions of Oxford Street, but fatal to -the American’s chances.</p> - -<p>In this disastrous state of things the manager of the Lyceum -came to the rescue of his <i lang="fr">confrère</i> with a suggestion as delicately -conceived as it was generous. He offered him his -theatre, with its splendid resources and traditions, his company, -and—himself. He proposed that a Shakespearian play should -be produced on the customary scale of magnificence, and that -he and Booth should fill the leading characters. This handsome -offer was, of course, accepted with gratitude, and ‘Othello’ -was selected as the play.</p> - -<p>The arrangements for this “Booth season,” as it might be -termed, were of an unusual and certainly laborious kind. The -manager, however, was never disposed to spare himself. The -programme began on May 2, 1881, when Booth was to appear -as Othello, performing on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, the -manager playing Iago. On the other nights of the week, ‘The -Cup,’ with the lively ‘Belle’s Stratagem,’ was to be performed. -In the following week there was the same arrangement, except -that Irving took the part of Othello.<a id="FNanchor_27" href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a></p> - -<p>The night of May 2 was an exciting one, even in the list of -exciting Lyceum nights. The Americans were, of course, -there in great force. Irving—Booth—Ellen Terry: this surely<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span> -formed, in theatrical phrase, a galaxy of talent, and the cynosure -of a crowded, brilliant audience. It was, indeed, a charming -performance—intellectual, highly-coloured, and treated in -the romantic fashion which the age seems to demand. The -old days of lusty-throated, welkin-splitting declamation, emphasized -with strides and lunges, are done with.</p> - -<p>Of Irving’s Iago it would be difficult to say too much. -There have been always the two extremes: one portraying the -Ancient as a malignant, scowling, crafty villain, doing much -work with his eyes; the other as a kind of dapper, sarcastic, -sneering personage, much after the model of Mephistopheles, -this tone being emphasized by an airy, fashionable dress, as -though he were some cynical Venetian “about town.” In -Irving was seen the man of power and capability. There was -breadth of treatment—the character was coherent throughout. -The keynote to the perplexing character was found in his -<em>humour</em>. In “I hate the Moor!”—one of those secret, jealous, -morbid broodings which belong to human nature—an admirably -delivered soliloquy, he strives to find some reasonable excuse -for this suggestion; ‘He has done my office’ is merely -accepted as a suitable pretext. The mode in which this was, -as it were, chased through the turnings of his soul; the anxious -tone of search, “I know not if ’t be true”; the covering up his -face, and the motion by which he let his hands glide, revealing -an elated expression at having found what would “serve,” was -a perfect exhibition of the processes of thought. All this was -set off by a dress of singular appropriateness and richness: a -crimson and gold jerkin, with a mantle of dull or faded green, -sometimes alternated with a short cloak and a red mantle worn -on one arm.</p> - -<p>In Booth’s Othello there appeared to be a lack of vigour, -and the elocutionist was too present. There was a system of -“points.” Some critics were rude enough to say that “his -make-up suggested at times an Indian juggler, while about the -head he seemed a low-cast Bengali.” He was never the -“noble Moor.” “He had a tendency at times to gobble like -a turkey.” This was rather hard measure. But in the scene -with Iago, and, above all, in the scenes with Desdemona, the -frantic bursts of jealousy, the command of varied tones, the -by-play, the fierce ordering of Emilia and his wife—all this -was of a high class, and stirred us. Miss Terry’s Desdemona -was pathetic, and her piteous pleadings and remonstrances -went straight to the heart.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span></p> - -<p>On the next performance the parts were interchanged. A -figure arrayed in a flowing amber robe over a purple brocaded -gaberdine; a small, snow-white turban; a face dark, yet not -“black”—such was Irving’s conception of Othello, which indeed -answered to our ideal of the Moor. His tall figure gave -him advantage. His reading of the part, again, was of the -romantic, passionate kind, and he leant more on the tender -side of the character than on the ferocious or barbaric. In the -scene of Desdemona’s death or murder, there was now another -and more effective arrangement: the bed was placed in the -centre of the stage, and the whole became more important and -conspicuous. When it was at the side, as in the Booth arrangement, -it was difficult to believe in the continued presence of -the lady after her death, and there was an awkwardness in the -efforts to keep in sight of the audience during the struggle. -There is not space to give details of the points which distinguished -this conception—it is virtually a new character; but -it will always be played by Irving under a disadvantage, as the -play of his expressive face—the meaning, “travelling” eyes—is -greatly veiled by the enforced swarthiness and Æthiop tint.</p> - -<p>Booth’s Iago had been seen before, and was much praised. -It was on the old “Mephistopheles” lines. The dress, indeed, -strangely meagre and old-fashioned, scarcely harmonized with -the rich costumes about him.</p> - -<p>The whole of this transaction, as I have said, did honour to -the English actor. Nothing more cordially hospitable could -have been imagined. At the time there was a “Booth party,” -who gave out that their favourite had not had fair play at the -Princess’s, and that on a properly-appointed stage his superiority -to all rivals would be apparent. These and other utterances -were scattered about freely. Irving might have passed them -by with indifference. It was certainly not his duty to share his -stage with a stranger and a rival. At the same time we may -give him credit for a certain delicate <i lang="fr">finesse</i>, and he may have -later thought, with a smiling, good-humoured complacency, -that, owing to his allowing the experiment, the issue had -turned out very differently from what “good-natured people” -had hoped. The mortification for the American must have -been the greater from the disadvantage of the contrast, which -brought out in the most forcible way the want of “distinction,” -the stock of old, rather faded, devices with which he came -provided, and which he tried on his audience with an antique -gravity. Audiences have, unfortunately, but little delicacy.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span> -In their plain way they show their appreciation of whom they -think “the better man” in a business-like manner; and I -remember how they insisted that the encouraging applause -which they gave to the new actor should be shared by his -host.</p> - -<p>It should be mentioned that the prices on this engagement -were raised to the opera scale—a guinea in the stalls, half-a-guinea -for the dress-circle.</p> - -<p>When the actor took his benefit at the close of this laborious -season, the theatre presented an opera-house appearance, and -was filled to overflowing with a miscellany of brave men and -fair women, the latter arrayed in special splendour and giving -the whole an air of rich luxury and magnificence befitting the -handsomest and best-appointed theatre in the kingdom. -Bouquets of unusual brilliancy and dimensions were laid in -position, clearly not brought for the enjoyment of the owners. -The entertainment consisted of the stock piece of ‘The Bells.’ -Mr. Toole performed Mr. Hollingshead’s farce, ‘The Birthplace -of Podgers,’ a happy subject, which shows that the -“germ” of the æsthete “business” existed twenty years ago. -The feature of the night was the well-known scene from ‘The -Hunchback,’ in which Modus is so pleasantly drawn into -making a declaration. Sheridan Knowles is often ridiculed -for his sham Elizabethan situations; yet it may be doubted if -any living writer could treat this incident with such freshness -or so naturally. It is a piece of good, wearing stuff, and will -wear even better. When the scene drew up, the handsome -curtains, festooned in rich and abundant folds, revealed a new -effect, throwing out, by contrast, the pale greenish-tinted scene, -and heightening the light so that the two figures were projected -on this mellow background with wonderful brilliancy. Miss -Terry’s performance was full of animation and piquancy. Most -remarkable, indeed, was the new store of unexpected attitudes -and graces revealed at every moment—pretty stoopings, windings, -sudden half turns, inviting “rallyings”—so that even a -Modus more insensible to her advances must have succumbed. -But in truth this wonderful creature “adorns all she touches.” -It is clear that there is a Jordan-like vein of comedy in her yet -to be worked. Irving’s Modus was full of a quaint earnestness, -and his air of helplessness in the hands of such a mistress -was well maintained. Modus is generally made to hover on -the verge of oafishness, so as to make it surprising that there -should be any object in gaining such a being. Irving<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span> -imparted a suitable air to it, and lifted the character into pure -comedy.</p> - -<p>At the end came the expected speech, delivered with a -pleasant familiarity, and dwelling on past successes and future -plans. As in the case of another Premier, announcement was -made of “improvement for tenants” in the pit and boxes, who -were to have more room—to be “rooted,” if not to the soil, in -their places at least. It was a pleasant and remarkable season -to look back upon: the enchanting ‘Cup,’ which lingers like -a dream, or lotus-eating fancy; the ‘Corsican Brothers,’ so -sumptuously mounted; the splendid ‘Othello,’ the meeting of -the American and the English actor on the same stage, and -their strangely opposed readings of the same characters.</p> - -<p>The performance of ‘The Belle’s Stratagem,’ which supplemented -the attraction of ‘Othello,’ was interesting, as it -introduced once more to active life that excellent and sound -old actor, Henry Howe, who is now perhaps the only link with -the generation of the great actors. It was a graceful and -thoughtful act of Irving’s to seek out the veteran and attach -him to his company. During the decade of years that have -since elapsed, he has always treated him with a kindly and -courteous consideration. Everyone who knows Mr. Howe—and -everyone who does is glad to be counted among his -friends—can testify to his kindly and loveable qualities. He has -not the least particle of that testy discontent which too often -distinguishes the veteran actor, who extols the past and is discontented -with the present, because it is discontented with him, -or thinks that he lags superfluous on the stage. As we have -talked with him of a summer’s afternoon, in his little retreat -at Isleworth, the image of many a pleasant hour in the old -Haymarket days has risen up with his presence. It is always -pleasant to encounter his honest face in the Strand, where he -lives, as he is hurrying to his work.<a id="FNanchor_28" href="#Footnote_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span></p> - -<p>In January, 1882, our manager revived a piece in which he -had achieved one of his earliest triumphs—‘The Two Roses.’ -Miss Terry was at this time busily preparing for what was to be -her great effort, in Juliet, and this interruption to her labours -was judicious policy on the manager’s part. Much had -occurred during the long interval of twelve years since the play -had been first performed, but many still recalled with enjoyment -Irving’s masterly creation. When he was casting the -characters for the piece, he had counted on the original Caleb -Decie—Thorne—who held the traditions of the play. Owing -to some sudden change—I think to his entering on management—this -arrangement had to be given up, and the manager -was somewhat perplexed as to who he could find to fill the -character. He happened to be in Glasgow at this time, when -the local manager said to him, “There is a young fellow here -who, I think, would exactly suit you; he is intelligent, hard -working, and anxious to get on. His name is Alexander.” -Irving accepted the advice, and secured an actor who was of -his own school, of well-defined instincts and a certain elegance, -and exactly suited to be <i lang="fr">jeune premier</i> of the Lyceum. It may -be conceived with what delight, as he himself has told me, this -unexpected opening was received by the then obscure youth; -and at a pleasant supper the new engagement was ratified. -At this moment the young Glasgow candidate is the prosperous -manager of the St. James’s Theatre, a position which a dozen -years of conscientious work has placed him in. Far more -rough and thorny was the path along which Irving had to toil, -during a score of years, before he found himself at the head of -a theatre. But in these <i lang="fr">fin de siècle</i> times, the days and hours -have doubled their value.</p> - -<p>The piece was well mounted and well played, and there was -much interest felt in comparing the new cast with the old. In<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span> -a pleasant, half-sad meditation, my friend Mr. Clement Scott -called up some of the old memories; the tyrant Death, he -said, had played sad havoc with the original companies that did -so much for this English comedy. “Far away, leagues from -home, across the Atlantic sleep both Harry Montague and -Amy Fawcitt. We may associate them still with Jack Wyatt -and Lottie—who seemed the very boy and girl lovers that such -a theme required—so bright and manly and noble, so tender, -young, and handsome.” David James, as I have said, had -taken the place of the oleaginous Honey, and for those who -had not seen the latter, was an admirable representative of the -part. The “Roses” were Miss Helen Mathews and Miss -Emery.</p> - -<p>The manager, in his old part, received universal praise from -the entire circle of critics. Some considered it his most perfect -creation, and likened it to Got’s ‘Duc Job’ and Regnier’s -‘Annibal.’ It was certainly a most finished and original performance; -but it must be confessed that the larger stage and -larger house had its effect, and tempted the actor into laying -greater emphasis on details of the character. An actor cannot -stand still, as it were. Repetition for a hundred nights is one -of the vices of the modern stage, and leads to artificiality. -Under the old <i lang="fr">répertoire</i> system, when a piece was given for a -few nights, then suspended to be resumed after an interval, the -actor came to his part with a certain freshness and feeling of -novelty.</p> - -<p>At the same time, it should be said that the play itself was -accountable for this loss of effect. It was of but an ephemeral -sort, and belonged to an old school which had passed away. -Other players besides Irving, conscious of this weakness, have -felt themselves constrained to supplement it by these broad -touchings. The average “play of commerce” is but the inspiration -of the moment, and engendered by it—authors, -manager, actors, audience all join, as it were, in the composition. -Every portion, therefore, reflects the tone of the time. -But after a number of years this tone becomes lost or forgotten; -the fashions of feeling and emotion, both off as well as on the -stage, also pass away.</p> - -<p>When closing his season and making the important announcement -of the selection of ‘Romeo and Juliet’ for the new one, -the manager, as we have seen, had promised some alterations -and improvements in the theatre. These were duly carried -out, and not only added to the comfort of the audience, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span> -also to the profits of the management. The corridor at the -back of the dress-circle was taken in and supplied some sixty -or seventy new seats; while below, on the pit floor, place was -found for some two hundred additional persons, by including -the saloon. Further, the arch of the gallery which impeded -the view was raised, padded seats were furnished for the pit, -and the manager was willing even to supply “backs,” an unusual -luxury, to the seats in the gallery; but the Chamberlain -interposed, on the ground that in any panic or hurrying down -the steep ascent, these might be found an obstruction. Other -alterations were made in the exits and entrances—though -these were merely in the nature of makeshifts. But the -manager was not content until, many years later, he had purchased -the adjoining house and thoroughly remodelled the -whole.<a id="FNanchor_29" href="#Footnote_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a></p> - -<p>The manager, in the interval, took his company on a provincial -tour to the leading towns. At Glasgow it was announced -to be “the greatest engagement ever witnessed in that city.” -As he told his audience on the last night, the receipts for the -twelve nights amounted to over £4,000—an average of £334 -per night. But the extraordinary “drawing” power of our -actor was never exhibited more signally than during the engagement -at Edinburgh, at Mr. Howard’s Theatre, which produced -results that were really unprecedented. On his last appearance -Irving told the audience that “this engagement—and you must -not take it for egotism—has been the most remarkable one -played for any twelve nights in any theatre, I should think, in -Great Britain, certainly out of London, and there are some -large theatres in London. I may tell you that there has<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span> -been taken during the engagement here £4,300, which is -certainly the largest sum ever had before in any theatre during -the space of time, and I believe it is perfectly unprecedented -in any city.” This was a tribute to his attraction. On his -departure a gold repeater watch was presented to him.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1882.<br /> -‘ROMEO AND JULIET’—THE BANQUET.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>By March 8, 1882, the great revival of ‘Romeo and Juliet’ was -ready. For this performance the manager drew upon all the -resources of his taste, purse, study, and experience. The -fascinating play, indeed, offered opportunities for adornment -only too tempting. Those glittering, bewitching pictures still -linger in the memory of the playgoer, though more than ten -years have elapsed since the opening night “Among the -restorations will be found that of Romeo’s unrequited love for -Rosaline, omitted, among other things, in Garrick’s version.”</p> - -<p>Those who came away from the Lyceum on that opening -night must have had a sense almost of bewilderment, so rich -and dazzling were the scenes of light and colour that had for -hours passed before their eyes. According to the true illusive -principle in use on this stage, the lights are lowered as every -scene is about to change, by which a sense of mystery is produced, -and the prosaic mechanism of the movement is shrouded. -Hence, a sort of richness of effect and surprise as the gloom -passes away and a gorgeous scene steeped in effulgence and -colour is revealed. It would take long to detail the beautiful -views, streets, palaces, chambers, dresses, groupings, that were -set before the audience, all devised with an extraordinary -originality and fertility of resource; though this was the third -of these Italian revivals. When it is considered that there -were twenty-two scenes, and that most of these were “sets,” it -is amazing with what rapidity and smoothness the changes -were contrived. Not the least pleasurable part of the whole -was the romantic music, written in a flowing, tender strain by -Sir Julius Benedict, full of a juvenile freedom and spirit, -thoroughly Italian in character, and having something of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span> -grace and character of Schubert’s ‘Rosamunde.’ In the exquisite -garden, with its depth of silvered trees glistening in the moonlight, -viewed from a terrace, the arrangement of the balcony -was the only successful solution seen as yet. It has always -been forgotten that Juliet has to act—is, as it were, “on the -stage”—and should not be perched in a little wobbling cage. -Here it was made a sort of solid loggia, as much a part of the -stage as that upon which her lover was standing. I fancy this -was the scenic triumph of the night.</p> - -<p>When it is considered that Romeo and Juliet are characters -almost impossible to perform so as to reach the Shakespearian -ideal, it becomes easier to “liberate one’s mind” on the subject -of the performance of the two leading characters. The chief -objection was that they scarcely presented the ideal of superabundant -youth—boyish and girlish—required by the play. I -have always thought this a point to be but little insisted upon; -it is much the same as with strictness of costume, which is -overpowered, as it were, by the acting. It is the <em>acting</em> of youth, -not the appearance of youth, that is required; and a case is -conceivable where all the flush of youth with its physical accompaniments -may be present in perfection, and yet from failure -of the acting the idea of maturity and age may be conveyed.<a id="FNanchor_30" href="#Footnote_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> -In the dramatic ballroom scene, when he was moving about -arrayed as a pilgrim, the unbecoming dress and rather too -swarthy features seemed to convey the presentment of a person -in the prime of life. The critics spoke freely in this sense.</p> - -<p>In the latter, more tragic portion of the play, the very intensity<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span> -of the emotion seemed to add maturity and depth to -the character of Romeo. Nothing could better supply the -notion of impending destiny, of gathering gloom, than the -view of the dismal heart-chilling street, the scene of the visit -to the apothecary. Our actor’s picturesque sense was shown -in his almost perfect conception of this situation. The forlorn -look of the houses, the general desolation, the stormy grandeur -in keeping with the surroundings, the properly subdued grotesqueness -of the seller of simples (it was the grotesqueness of -<em>misery</em> that was conveyed), filled the heart with a sadness that -was almost real. In Miss Terry’s case there was a division of -opinions, some thinking her performance all but perfect, others -noting the absence of “girlishness.” All agreed as to its -engaging character and its winning charm. Terriss was the -Mercutio, which he gave with his favourite blunt impetuosity. -But one of the most perfectly played characters was Mrs. -Stirling’s Nurse. This accomplished woman represented all -the best traditions—high training, admirable elocution, with -the art of giving due weight and breadth to every utterance. -And yet—here was a curious phenomenon—the very excellence -of the delineation disturbed the balance of the play. The -Nurse became almost as important as the leading performers, -but not from any fault of the actress. She but followed the -due course. This is a blemish which is found in many exhibitions -of Shakespearian plays, where the inferior actor works -up his Dogberry, or his Gravedigger, or his Jacques to the very -fullest extent of which they are capable. But there should be -subordination; these are merely humours exhibited <i lang="fr">en passant</i>. -With an actress of Mrs. Stirling’s powers and rank, the manager -no doubt felt too much delicacy to interfere; nor would perhaps -the audience have placidly accepted any effacing of her part. -But as it was, the figure of this humble retainer became unduly -prominent.<a id="FNanchor_31" href="#Footnote_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a></p> - -<p>‘Romeo and Juliet’ was witnessed one night by the impetuous -Sarah Bernhardt, who afterwards came behind the -scenes to congratulate the performers. “How can you act in -this way every night?” she exclaimed to Ellen Terry. The -latter, in her simple, natural way, explained: “It is the audience—they -inspire me!”</p> - -<p>Such was this refined, elegant, and truly brilliant spectacle,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span> -which, as usual, furnished “talk for the town,” and stirred its -interest. The hundredth night of performance was celebrated -by a banquet on the stage, on Sunday night, June 25, 1882. -Here assembled critics, dramatists, artists, <i lang="it">e tutti quanti</i>; there -were many admirers, friends, and sympathizers present, some -of whom have since passed away—Sir W. Hardman, Dr. Cox, -Laman Blanchard, Palgrave Simpson, and many more. There -is a sadness in thinking of these disappearances.</p> - -<p>Among the guests at the banquet was Mr. Abbey, the -American manager, well known for his many daring and very -successful <i lang="fr">coups</i> in management. In the course of the night -there were some rumours circulated as to the motives of his -presence in town; but an allusion in Irving’s speech, when he -said pointedly that he hoped next year to have good experience -of the cordiality of American audiences, set the matter at rest. -This scheme had long been in his thoughts; and, indeed, -already many invitations and proposals had been made to him -to visit the United States. There was something dazzling and -fascinating in this prospect of going forth to conquer a new -great kingdom and new audiences. There was the chance, -too, of riches “beyond the dreams of avarice.” No wonder, -then, that the scheme began to take shape, and was presently -to be decided upon.</p> - -<p>After one hundred and thirty nights’ performance of ‘Romeo -and Juliet,’ the season was brought to a close, the manager -taking “a benefit” on his last night. Some ungracious folk -object to this old-established form of compliment, but he -defended it in a very modest and judicious way.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1882.<br /> -‘MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING’—AMERICAN VISIT ARRANGED.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>In his speech at the close of the season, the manager announced -the new piece selected for the next season. With that judicious -view to contrast or relief which directed all his efforts, he had -settled on a true comedy—the effective ‘Much Ado About -Nothing.’ To this piece many had long since pointed as being -exactly adapted to the special gifts of the two performers.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span> -Here was the fourth Shakespearian play of an Italian complexion -and atmosphere, which entailed accordingly a fresh -exhibition of Italian streets, manners, and costumes. A happy -impression was produced by the very note of preparation, the -air was filled with the breath of the coming piece; all felt, in -anticipation, the agreeable humours and fancies of Benedick -and his Beatrice. This feeling of comedy, it may be said, is -ever a delightful one; it spreads abroad a placid, quiet enjoyment -and good-humour with which nothing else can compare.</p> - -<p>On Wednesday, October 11, 1882, the delightful piece was -brought out. From the excellent acting of the two principal -performers, and the beautiful “setting” of the whole, it was -destined to become one of the most popular and acceptable of -the Lyceum <i lang="fr">répertoire</i>. By a curious delusion, owing no doubt -to the recollection of the lavish splendours of ‘Romeo and -Juliet,’ some critics pronounced that it had been brought out -with but a moderate display of scenic resources. The truth -was that the play had been “mounted” with as much state as -it would properly bear. Some scenes were equipped in an unusually -lavish and superb style. The general effect, however, -was harmonious; indeed, the happy tact of the manager was -never displayed to such advantage as in seizing on what might -be termed the proper key of the piece. When we recall, with -a pleasant enjoyment, these various Lyceum spectacles, we find -that there is no confusion of one with the other, that each has -a special, distinct note, and thus is started a train of impressions, -delightful for their variety, which enrich the chambers of -the memory.</p> - -<p>There was one scene which, for its splendour and originality, -was to be talked of for many a day, viz., the beautiful interior -of a church at Messina—the “Church Scene,” as it was called. -The art displayed here, the combination of “built-up” scenery -with “cloths,” the rich harmonious tintings, the ecclesiastical -details, the metal-work, altars, etc., made an exquisite picture.<a id="FNanchor_32" href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> -The well-known passage of the interrupted bridal was “laid -out” with extraordinary picturesqueness, much emphasis being -given to the religious rites. It was felt, however, that the -genuflections before the altar were introducing rather too awful -a suggestion, though the intention was, no doubt, reverent. It -must be admitted by all whose memories wander back to that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span> -performance, that the vision of this “Church Scene” rises -before them with an almost pathetic significance, owing in -some part to the touching, sympathetic acting of Miss Millward. -By this emphasizing of the state and publicity of the scene, the -crowds and rich dresses and ecclesiastical robes, the “distressful” -character of such a trial for a young bride was brought -out in a very striking way.</p> - -<p>All eyes, as it may be conceived, were drawn to the figures -of Benedick and Beatrice, as portrayed by Irving and Ellen -Terry. Their scenes were followed with a delighted interest, -and their gay encounters of wit and flirtation gave unalloyed -pleasure. Irving threw a Malvolian gravity over the character, -alternated by a certain jocoseness.</p> - -<p>These two characters, Benedick and Beatrice, are so much -the heritage of all lovers of true comedy, that everyone seems -to have fixed a standard for himself, which he will critically -apply to every representation. This partiality does not make -us particularly <i lang="fr">exigeant</i>, but we have each our own fancies. -There is nothing more interesting, entertaining, or fruitful in -speculation than the discussion of how favourite characters in -comedy should be represented. It is as though they were -figures in real life. For myself, I confess I should have preferred -that the actor had taken the character into still higher -realms of airy comedy, and had less emphasized the somewhat -farcical passages. Benedick was a man of capacity, a soldier, -a gentleman, and though he was likely to be so imposed upon, -he would not have given his friends the satisfaction of seeing -him in this dejected condition, almost inviting laughter and -rude “rallying.”<a id="FNanchor_33" href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a></p> - -<p>During all this time, preparations for the great American -visit were being carefully matured. There is supposed to be a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span> -sort of hostility between artistic gifts and business-like habits; -but Irving has always shown great capacity where organization -and arrangement are in question—he has the clearest vision, -and the firmest, most decided purpose. In this he has often -suggested a surprising likeness to the departed novelist Dickens, -who was also remarkable for his business power and decision -of character, and whose motto it was to do every trifle in the -best way that it could be done. Anything worth doing at all, -he would say, was worth doing well.</p> - -<p>Nothing was left undone to ensure success. Everything was -“thought out” beforehand with the greatest care and deliberation. -The American manager, Abbey, who had undertaken -the direction of the venture, and had a vast store of -experience and skill at command, planned, of course, the -arrangements of the visit; but the purely theatrical details -were thrown upon the English actor, who had to equip completely -some dozen plays with scenery, dresses, and properties. -A following of from seventy to a hundred persons—including -actors, actresses, secretaries, scenic and music artists, -dressers, supernumeraries—was to be taken out.<a id="FNanchor_34" href="#Footnote_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a> Further, -with a view to making the company thoroughly familiar with -the <i lang="fr">répertoire</i>, for months beforehand a sort of continuous rehearsal -went on before the regular Lyceum audiences; that is, -all the stock-pieces were revived one after the other, and performed -with much care.</p> - -<p>The honours and flattering tributes that were now lavished -on the departing actor would have turned the head of one less -sensible or less unspoiled. The town seemed really to have -“run horn-mad” after him, and could talk of nothing but of him -and his expedition. As was to be expected, the compliment -of a public dinner was the smallest of these tributes. Presents -and invitations were lavished upon him. In a caricature he -was shown as being profusely anointed, by critics and others, -from a tub filled with a composition labelled “butter.” In -another the Prince of Wales is obsequiously presenting an -invitation, which the actor excuses himself from accepting -owing to “my many engagements.” The most famous portrait-painter<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span> -of the day begged to be allowed to paint his picture, -which he wished to offer as a present to the Garrick Club.<a id="FNanchor_35" href="#Footnote_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a> -Rumours were busily circulated—and contradicted—that a -knighthood had been offered and declined.</p> - -<p>The public dinner at St. James’s Hall was fixed for July 4—a -compliment to the American people. The list of stewards -was truly extraordinary, comprising almost everyone of mark -in the arts and the great professions. The Chief Justice, -Lord Coleridge, who was himself setting out for a tour in the -States, was to take the chair. Mr. Gladstone and some -Cabinet Ministers were on the committee. There were three -thousand applicants for the five hundred possible seats, all that -Mr. Pinches, the secretary—a relation of the actor’s old master—could -contrive to supply. Two Bishops excused their -attendance in flattering terms; and Mr. Gladstone would -gladly have attended, but was compelled by his duties to be -absent.<a id="FNanchor_36" href="#Footnote_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a> At this banquet, besides the Chief Justice and the -Lord Chancellor of Ireland, there were five other judges -present, together with all that was distinguished in the professions -and arts.</p> - -<p>The Chairman, in a thoughtful and studied speech, delivered -perhaps one of the best <i lang="la">apologias</i> for the actor that is ever -likely to be offered. The skill and moderation of the accomplished -advocate was shown to perfection: he did not adulate, -but gave the actor a graduated and judicious measure of praise -for all he had done in the improvement in the general tone, -morals, and methods of the stage. Irving acknowledged these -compliments in grateful and heartfelt terms, addressed not so -much to the diners present as to the kingdom in general.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span></p> - -<p>After these metropolitan honours, he passed to Edinburgh, -Glasgow, and Liverpool. At each city he was greeted with -complimentary banquets. At Edinburgh he opened a new -theatre, named in compliment to his own, the Lyceum. He -was invited to Hawarden by Mr. Gladstone, and also to -Knowsley, on a visit to Lord Derby.</p> - -<p>On October 10, 1883, the chief members of the company—over -forty in number—sailed for New York, under the conduct -of Mr. Bram Stoker. Tons of scenery, dresses, properties, etc., -had been already shipped. The following day Irving and Miss -Terry embarked on board the White Star liner, <i>The Britannic</i>. -Up to the last moment telegrams and letters containing good -wishes literally by hundreds were being brought in. Even -while the vessel was detained at Queenstown, the Mayor and -Corporation of Cork seized the opportunity of saluting him -with a parting address. The incidents have been all described -by my friend Mr. Joseph Hatton, who attended the party as -“historiographer”; and I may refer the reader to his interesting -volumes.</p> - -<p>The visit was to prove one long triumph, and the six months’ -progress a strange, wonderful phantasmagoria of receptions, -entertainments, hospitalities of all kinds. Novel and original, -too, were the humours and fashions that greeted them everywhere, -and the eyes of the two players must have often turned -back with pleasure to that odd pantomime.</p> - -<p>‘The Bells’ was selected for the opening performance -which was on October 29, 1883. Though his reception was -overpowering and tumultuous, there was some hesitation as to -the success of the play itself, and the critics seemed to be a -little doubtful as to whether it fairly represented the full -measure of his gifts. ‘Charles I.’, however, followed, and the -two great artists made the profoundest impression. But when -‘Louis XI.’ and ‘Much Ado About Nothing’ were presented, -all doubts vanished. Miss Terry won all hearts; her sympathetic -style and winsome ways made conquest of every -audience. Nothing struck the Americans with such astonishment -as the exquisite arrangement and “stage management” -of the Shakespearian comedy, the reserved yet effectively -harmonious treatment of all the details being a complete -revelation. The actor’s consummate taste was recognised; in -fact, the result of the visit was a complete revolution in all the -American stage methods. The extraordinary record of lavish -hospitalities, tributes of all kinds, with the adventures, is set<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span> -forth fully in the story of the tour. But it is only by consulting -the American journals that we can gather a notion of -the odd “humours,” often grotesque, by which the American -public displays its enthusiastic approbation.<a id="FNanchor_37" href="#Footnote_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a> The “interviewers,” -as may be imagined, were rampant, and extracted -from the genial and courteous actor opinions on everything -connected with his profession. One immortal criticism -deserves to be recorded here. “He has rung,” said a newspaper, -“<em>the knell of gibbering</em> <span class="smcap">Gosh</span>!”<a id="FNanchor_38" href="#Footnote_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a></p> - -<p>The party remained in the country until the May of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span> -year following. The receipts exceeded every forecast, a -quarter of a million dollars having been taken in the first four -weeks. But the expenses were enormous. The substantial -profit was found in Irving’s securing a new, vast, and prominent -audience in the West; in his winning the suffrages of -Americans abroad as well as of those at home, who became -his most fervent adherents.</p> - -<p>The following is an amusing scene. Irving had been invited to -the Journalists’ Club, and after the close of the performance of -‘Louis XI.,’ the actor had come round to the club, where he -partook of a supper tendered to him by a few members in -a private room. He had been in the building three-quarters -of an hour before he made known his presence by coming -upstairs, escorted by several gentlemen. The guest of the -evening then held an informal reception.</p> - -<p>“After he had said something pleasant to almost everyone, he -volunteered to do his share towards entertaining those present. -It had been slightly hinted to him that something of the kind -was looked for, and he entered into the spirit of the occasion. -Then the great tragedian turned from the serious to the comic. -He recited, in a way that provoked roars of laughter, the funny -little poem, ‘Tommy’s First Love.’</p> - -<p>“When this was over there was a unanimous shout, which -lasted several minutes. It was a loud cry for more. Mr. Irving -expressed his willingness to give another recitation, and called -for a chair. After sitting down he observed that, as all were -standing, those in the rear could see but indifferently. -‘Suppose we change the stage management,’ he suggested. -‘Can’t we all sit down?’ This was received with some merriment, -as there were few chairs in the room. Someone, however, -saw Mr. Irving’s idea that those in the front ranks should -sit upon the floor, and in a moment the four foremost lines -were kneeling upon the carpet.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Irving then recited ‘Eugene Aram’s Dream.’ The -splendid elocutionary talents of the actor kept the audience -spellbound. Every emotion, every pang of the schoolmaster -was vividly depicted by the expressive face of the tragedian. -The scene was a remarkable one. Mr. Irving threw himself so -earnestly into the character that at one time <em>he tore the white -necktie from his throat</em> without realizing what he was doing, -and, as his features were wrought up to show the usher’s agony, -similar lines seemed to show themselves by sympathy in the -faces of those present. At the close of the recitation the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span> -motionless figures, some standing, some sitting with crossed -legs upon the floor, became moving, enthusiastic men. Those -on their feet threw their arms into the air and cheered as if for -dear life, while those on the floor bounded up simultaneously -and expressed their enthusiasm. It was some time before the -excitement subsided.</p> - -<p>“I recited that once to a friend of mine,” said Mr. Irving, -after quiet had been restored, “and what do you think he -said? Why, he seriously exclaimed: ‘There is one point in -that story that I’d like to know about. <em>What became of the -boy?</em>’” This anecdote produced a chorus of laughter. After -shaking hands all round, Mr. Irving went downstairs and out, -accompanied by the club’s officers. Before he left the room, -“Three cheers for Mr. Irving” were called for and given by -throats already hoarse with applauding him.</p> - -<p>A second American expedition followed in the September of -the same year, during which a visit was paid to Canada.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1884.<br /> -‘TWELFTH NIGHT’—‘THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD’—OXFORD -HONOURS.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>On July 8, 1884, a few weeks after the return to London, -‘Twelfth Night’ was brought out at the Lyceum, and, for -luxury of scenery, dresses, and mounting, fully equalled all its -predecessors. Irving was, of course, the Malvolio, which he -rendered not exactly after Charles Lamb’s interpretation, but, -indeed, as anyone of Shakespearian intelligence would have -done, never lapsing into farce, but treating the whole earnestly. -It was a beautiful and graceful show, full of alternate sympathy -and humour. Personally we look back to it as one of the most -welcome and interesting of his revivals; all the incidents connected -with Viola, so charmingly interpreted by Ellen Terry, -have an irresistible and touching interest. The scenery was -costly and exquisite, and reflected the tone of the piece. The -audience, however, listened with a somewhat languid interest—some -said because of the oppressive heat of a July night,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span> -which fretted and put them out of humour; but I believe -because they were unfamiliar with the piece, and had not been -“educated up to it.” When the manager came out at the -close, with all the good-humour and freedom of a privileged -favourite, he was confounded to find his expressions of self-congratulation -and satisfaction greeted with uncouth denial and -rude interruptions. He was not accustomed to such coarse -reception, and with much spirit he administered this well-deserved -chastisement: “I can’t understand how a company -of earnest comedians and admirable actors, having these three -cardinal virtues of actors—being sober, clean, and perfect—and -having exercised their abilities on one of the most difficult -plays, can have given any cause for dissatisfaction.” But there -are curious idiosyncrasies in audiences, one of which is, as I -have noted, that they must be in some way familiar with the -piece and its incidents; and there must be broad, comprehensive -types of character. Now Malvolio, one of the most -delicately exquisite of conceptions, it could be seen, was almost -unintelligible to “the general”: they took him for some -“crank,” or half-cracked being, appearing in his nightcap, etc. -Sir Toby and Sir Andrew and their rollickings were actually -thought “low” or vulgar, on the same principle that Tony -Lumpkin’s alehouse friend could not abide anything low. So -much for the ignorant, ill-mannered section of the audience.</p> - -<p>It was argued, indeed, by critics that Irving’s Malvolio was -somewhat <em>too</em> much in earnest, and therefore was liable to be -accepted by the audience as a serious person, actually in love -with his mistress, which with his eccentricities and oddities -became an impertinence. Whereas, as Lamb says, by imparting -a quaint humorousness, the audience sees the absurdity of -the jest and is amused. Elia, indeed, always insists that the -actor of such “fantastical” parts should hint to the audience, -slyly, as it were, that he is only half in earnest.</p> - -<p>A most delightful sense of pure natural comedy was induced -by the likeness between the Terrys, brother and sister, who -had a sort of Shakespearian elegance in their bearing. But -this did not avail much with the uncultured crowd. It was -objected also that the play was set forth somewhat pedantically -and too much <i lang="fr">au grand sérieux</i>, many of the actors, not being -comedians—witness Mr. Terriss—imparting a literal tone to all -they said and did. This was not without its effect on the -audience, who by the very promise of seriousness were beguiled -into expecting something serious. Irving himself was not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span> -wholly free from this method; and in the strange scene of the -imprisonment, so difficult to “carry off,” he was deeply tragic, -as if really suffering, and without any underlying grotesqueness. -His exit, too, with solemn menaces, had the air of retributive -punishment in store.</p> - -<p>Now followed a second expedition to the States, as well as -to Canada, the details of which I pass over. On the reopening -of his theatre on his return a rather disagreeable episode -occurred, connected with an alteration he had made in the -arrangement of his house. It was announced that places in -the pit might be reserved and secured in advance, which gave -rise to indignant protest and to cries of “<em>Give us back our Pit</em>.” -The question was warmly discussed in the newspapers.</p> - -<p>The advantage of the debate was that it clearly established -a true theatrical principle—viz., that the pit and galleries are -intended for the crowd, and should be free and open to the -“man in the street”: that the best seats here must be the -prize of the strongest and most patient. The principle of -numbering and booking, it was shown, would actually abolish -the pit. The judicious manager understood and recognised -the public discontent, and made announcement that on -May 18 he would restore the old custom.</p> - -<p>In accordance with his engagement, the manager now proceeded -to get ready Wills’s pleasing and sympathetic drama, -‘Olivia.’ This was no doubt selected with a view to furnishing -a fresh opportunity for the display of Miss Terry’s attractions; -but it will be seen that she was not to be altogether the -cynosure of the whole, and that two other accomplished performers -were to share the honours of the piece. It was produced -on May 27, 1885, and excited much interest. The -creation of Dr. Primrose is one of the most interesting and -most original of Irving’s characters. It is elaborated and -finished to the very highest point, and yet there is no lack of -simplicity or unaffected grace. The character suited him in -every way, and seemed to hold completely in check all his little -“mannerisms,” as they are called. There was a sort of -Meissonnier delicacy in his touches, and scarcely any other of -his characters is so filled in and rounded with unspoken acting—that -is, by the play of facial expression, gesture, walk, etc. -It is, indeed, a delightful performance, and always holds the -audience, which attentively follows the Vicar’s successive emotions. -These the actor allows unconsciously, as it were, to escape -him, as he pursues his little domestic course unconscious of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span> -spectators. One reason for this complete success was, of -course, that Irving, like so many others, had read, known, and -felt this engaging character from his childhood, altogether -outside dramatic conditions, though of course it is not every -play that enjoys this advantage.</p> - -<p>As we look back to the Lyceum, the eye rests with infinite -pleasure on the engaging figure of the Vicar, with his powdered -wig and rusted suit, and that amiable smile of simplicity which -betokened what agreeable fancies were occupying his mind. -There he was, the centre of a happy family, content with the -happiness of his wife and children. No picture could have -been prettier. With an exquisite feeling of propriety, the -quaint, antique associations were developed, and no more -pleasing scene could have been conceived, or one that lingers -more in the memory, than the scene at night, when the family -are singing at the spinet, Moses accompanying with his flute,<a id="FNanchor_39" href="#Footnote_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a> -the Vicar in his chair, the cuckoo-clock in the corner. It was -a fine instinct that directed these things.</p> - -<p>It should be added that the piece had been somewhat -altered from its first shape, and no doubt gained from the -manager’s suggestions. One of the most astonishing things -connected with it is the admirably firm and coherent construction, -it being laid out in the most effective way. Its various -characters are introduced with singular skill. The last act -seemed, indeed, somewhat superfluous and too much drawn out; -but the whole design was really admirable. Yet its adapter -was admittedly deficient in the arts of construction, and most -of his other pieces display singular and even ludicrous incoherencies. -It might be that he had received assistance in -this individual case, or had been so inspired by the subject as -to triumph over his own defects.</p> - -<p>Such tales as these—world-wide stories that belong to all -countries and to all time—Shakespearian, in short—seem on -repetition to have the air of novelty; at least, they always -interest. The situations are dramatic, and the characters even -more dramatic than the situations. Miss Terry’s Olivia is not -only one of her best characters, but is a most touchingly -graceful and varied performance. The gifted pair are indeed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span> -at their best here. In the excellently-contrived scene at the -Dragon, Miss Terry’s transition of horror, astonishment, rage, -shame, succeeding each other, were displayed with extraordinary -force and variety. Some insisted that the part -suffered from her restlessness, but, as it was happily said, “She -is for ever flickering about the stage in a series of <em>poses</em>, or -rather disturbance of <em>pose</em>, each in itself so charming that one -can hardly account for the distrust she herself shows of it by -instantly changing it for another.” The other characters were -no less excellent in their way. Terriss, as the Squire, was -admirably suited, his very defect—an excessively pronounced -brusqueness—adding to the effect. I recollect it was said at -the time in the theatre that there was only the one performer -for Thornhill, and that one Terriss. He—and he only—must -be secured. He never performed so well as in this character.</p> - -<p>A year later there occurred what must have been one of the -most gratifying incidents in the actor’s career, and one of the -most pleasant to recall. The Oxford commencements, held -on June 26, 1886, were more than usually brilliant. At that -time, the late learned and popular Dr. Jowett was Vice-Chancellor, -a man, as is well known, of the largest sympathies. -Though a divine, he took a deep interest in Irving and his -profession. On its being proposed to confer honorary degrees -on certain distinguished guests, including Mr. John Bright, the -Vice-Chancellor, it is said, suggested the name of the well-known -actor. There was something, as I say, dramatic or -characteristic in this proposal, coming as it did from so expressive -a personality. The University, however, was not prepared -to go so far as this, though the proposal was only negatived, -it is said, by a narrow majority of two votes. The vigorous -purpose of the Vice-Chancellor was not to be thus baffled, and -by a brilliant <i lang="fr">coup</i> he contrived that the very omission of the -actor’s name—like the absence of one portrait from a series—should -suggest that the chief performer had been “left” out, -and thus supplied a fresh element in the brilliancy of his -reception. He invited him to deliver a lecture on his art in -the very precincts of the University, and under the patronage -of its most distinguished professors and “Heads,” and it may -be conceived that the figure of the popular player became the -cynosure of attraction in the brilliant academic show.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“For when the well-grac’d actor quits the scene,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The eyes of men are idly bent on him that enters next.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span></p> - -<p>When it became known that the actor was to give his -address, everyone of note and culture and importance in the -place rushed to secure seats. Some fourteen hundred persons -were present, with most of “the Heads of Houses,” and distinguished -professors. Dr. Jowett welcomed him in some -warm and well-chosen phrases, telling him how much honoured -they felt by his coming to them. A good English actor, he -said happily enough, lived in the best company—that of Goethe -and Shakespeare; and coming from such, he might seem to -convey that he was good enough company for them.</p> - -<p>But during the year 1892 the University of Dublin was the -first to recognise officially the actor’s position, and at the celebration -of its tercentenary conferred on him the degree of -Doctor of Letters, in company with many distinguished men. -Indeed, Irving’s sympathetic temperament has always been -specially acceptable to this University, and the youths of -Trinity College from the beginning were eager to exhibit their -appreciation and admiration of his talent. They would attend -him home from the theatre in uproarious procession, and sing -songs in his praise in the galleries. So early as June, 1877, -he had given a reading in the University in its great Examination -Hall. The Provost, the Dean, and other “dons” all -attended. He gave ‘Richard III.,’ a chapter of ‘David -Copperfield,’ and ‘Eugene Aram.’ An illuminated address -was presented to him, and to make the day truly festive -and collegiate, the actor dined in the hall, the guest of the -college, and went his way covered with honours.</p> - -<p>Later came the turn of Edinburgh, where he was much considered, -and in 1881 delivered a lecture before the Edinburgh -Philosophical Institute. He gave, also, an interesting lecture on -acting at the Royal Institution in London. With pleasure, too, -must he look back to his welcome at Harvard University, in -the United States. The novelty of the scene, the warm welcome -accorded to him in a strange land, must have made a most -welcome form of honour. He delivered a lecture on the -“Art of Acting”—his favourite topic—in the great Sande’s -Theatre, into which over two thousand persons were crowded—the -usual audience was sixteen hundred. An enormous crowd -blocked the doors, so that the actor on his arrival could not -gain admittance, and had to be taken in by a subterranean -passage. The president was in a conspicuous place, and all -the professors and dons attended. Another American University, -that of Cambridge, also invited him to lecture (rather<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span> -to give instruction) before them, and the newspapers of the -country declared that the honours with which he was welcomed -were really “unprecedented.” Again he discoursed on the -“Art of Acting.” An even more flattering and unusual compliment -was the invitation to the Military Academy at West-point, -where, with his company, he performed ‘The Merchant -of Venice’ in Elizabethan dresses, but without scenery—to -the huge enjoyment of professors and students. Here is a -round of University distinctions that has never fallen to the -lot of any other actor. We may see in it an instinctive recognition -of a cultured and artistic feeling that has influenced the -community and done excellent educational service.</p> - -<p>Irving had long wished to display his sardonic power in -Goethe’s great character of Mephistopheles. He had already -given proof of his quality in this line in Louis XI. and -Richard III.; but there was a piquancy and range in Mephistopheles -which naturally offered him an attraction, from the -mixture of the comic or grotesque with deep tragic force. It -also offered room for a superb and almost unlimited display of -scenic magnificence. It was no secret, too, that in this particular -display he was resolved to surpass all his previous efforts.</p> - -<p>To Wills was entrusted the work of preparing the adaptation, -this writer having, as I said, a command of flowing and -melodious versification, which, moreover, was fitted to the -actor’s delivery. The adapter had completed his task many -years before, and the piece had long lain in the manager’s desk. -During this period he let his conception of the piece slowly -ripen; he discussed it with scholars; thought over it; while -the adapter, a German student himself, revised his work at -intervals according to the views of his chief. All this was -judicious enough. It was, however, destined to be the last -work that he was to prepare for his old friend and faithful -Lyceum patron. It must be said that the latest adapter was -not altogether well fitted for the task, as he was too much given -to descriptions and “recitations,” while Mephistopheles might -have been made far more of.</p> - -<p>The preparations made were of the most thorough kind. -For months the manager’s rooms were hung round with a profusion -of sketches by artists of all kinds, relics of Nuremberg -and the Goethe country, with old engravings of Albert Dürer, -and great folios of costumes. To permeate himself with something -of the tone and feeling of the piece, he travelled in -Germany, accompanied by his scene-painter, Mr. Craven.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span> -Both stayed at Nuremberg, where the artist imbued himself -with the whole poetry of the old city. Everyone of artistic -feeling will recall one truly romantic scene—a simple cloth set -very forward on the scene, perhaps to its disadvantage—a view -of the old city, with its dull red high roofs and quaintly-peaked -spires.</p> - -<p>During the preparations, the theatre, now some eighty years -old, had been redecorated afresh, but at the complete sacrifice -of the old Vestris adornments, the elegant medallions or -cameos, and the double-gilt pillars, which were thought to -interfere with the view. The outline of the dress-circle was -brought forward with some gain of space, and its graceful undulations -were abolished. For such changes no one can be -brought to account—the irresistible pressure of the time and -the laws of convenience bring them about. An entirely new -system of decoration was introduced, suggested by that of -Raffaelle’s Loggie at the Vatican, which seemed scarcely sober -enough for an auditorium. More structural changes were also -made in the interests of the galleries, of which the manager -has always shown himself careful.</p> - -<p>On December 19, 1886, the piece was produced. There -was the now invariable excitement of a Lyceum <i lang="fr">première</i>, and -there were stories of frantic efforts, grovellings, implorings, etc., -to obtain a seat. A peer had actually been seen in the gallery—and -was more than content with his place. The Royal Family -were in their box, and the Prince, then in mourning, watched -the play from behind the scenes. Mephistopheles was destined -for many a night to give the keenest enjoyment to vast audiences. -It was, indeed, a most original conception. With -successive performances he enriched it with innumerable -telling and grotesque touches; for, as I have said, the adapter -had “laid out” the character on rather conventional lines. In -spite of all these defects, he suggested the notion of “uncanniness” -and a supernatural <i lang="fr">diablerie</i>. His antic scaring of the -women at the church-door will be recalled by many. Miss -Terry’s Marguerite was full of pathos and poetry, occasionally -suggesting, as in the “Jewel” scene, the operatic heroine. -But at the first performance it became plain that a serious -mistake had been made in the choice of Conway for the hero, -Faust. He seemed scarcely to feel or understand the part; -there was a lack of passion and sympathy. It was, indeed, an -overwhelming burden for a player whose gifts lay in the direction -of light comedy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span></p> - -<p>But on one Saturday night the audience was somewhat -astonished to see before them a new Faust, one who, moreover, -came on with a book in his hand, which he continued to read -aloud even after Mephisto had paid him his visit through the -steam clouds. It proved that Conway was suffering from gout, -and Alexander, resigning his own character to Tyars, took the -<i lang="fr">rôle</i> of Faust, which on the following night he assumed permanently, -and “discharged” in the regular way. Considering -the shortness of the notice, he performed this awkward duty -<i lang="fr">en vrai artiste</i>—as, indeed, might be expected.<a id="FNanchor_40" href="#Footnote_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a> However, the -cast was further strengthened by the excellent Mrs. Stirling, -whose part was scarcely worthy of her. Placing a strong -performer in a part that is inferior in strength, instead of -improving or fortifying, only further brings out the poverty of -the character.</p> - -<p>In this piece numerous scientific devices were introduced to -add to the effect, such as the clouds of steam which veiled -the apparition of Mephistopheles, a device of French origin. -This is scarcely illusive, as it is attended by an unmistakable -“hissing” sound, as of a locomotive; it seems what it is—namely, -steam. The blue electric light flashed with weird -effect as the swords of Valentine and Faust crossed. But here -again there was an electric wire and “contact,” and a current -“switched on.” It may be paradoxical to say so, but these -“advances” in scenic art are really retrograde steps.</p> - -<p>Of the regular scenes or structures put on the stage, it would -be difficult to say too much. The grandly-built porch of the -Church of St. Lorentz Platz at Nuremberg, and the buildings -grouped round it, were extraordinary works of construction, -the porch being “moulded” in all its details, and of the real -or natural size. Another scene that lingers in the memory -with a sort of twilight melancholy is the garden scene, which -again illustrates the admirable instinct of the manager. Red-brick -walls of calm, quiet tones, old trees, and, above all, the -sombre towers of the city, were seen in the distance. The -dresses of the characters were chosen to harmonize, and the -deep sunset cast a melancholy glow or tinge over all. The most -striking effects were contrived by changes of the lights and -“mediums.”</p> - -<p>The Brocken scene, for its vastness and ambitious attempt -to suggest space and atmosphere, has never been surpassed.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span> -Most people were struck by the bewildering crowd of unearthly -spirits, witches, and demons, etc.; but the real marvel was the -simulation of the chill mountain atmosphere, the air of dizziness, -of mists that hover over vast crevasses and depths, and -make one shiver to look at. The designing, direction, and -controlling of the elements in this wonderful scene seemed a -bewildering and gigantic task.</p> - -<p>The vision of Angels in the last act seemed a little conventional. -There were many objections, too, taken mostly by -Germans, to the treatment of the great story, such as the fixing -of the scene at Nuremberg instead of at Leipsic, the placing -the drinking bout in the open air, and at the tavern door, -instead of in Auerbach’s cellar. These changes could not, of -course, be justified, save on the ground of theatrical expediency.</p> - -<p>For seven months, though ‘Faust’ continued to attract vast -houses, it had really, as the manager said, “only started on its -wild career.” On the occasion of Miss Terry’s benefit, he -made an interesting, half-jocular speech announcing his plans.</p> - -<p>The ninety-ninth night of ‘Faust’ was celebrated in a remarkable -and somewhat appropriate fashion. The venerable -Abbé Liszt was at this time in London, followed with an eager -curiosity, affecting even the “cabbies” with interest, who were -heard talking of the “Habby List.” No one who had seen -him at this time will forget the striking personality of this -interesting and brilliant man. He was induced to visit the -theatre, and to witness the performance. After the first act, -the orchestra broke into his own “Hungarian March,” and, -being presently recognised by the audience, the great virtuoso -received a perfect ovation. He followed the piece throughout -with singular interest, and applauded with enthusiasm. After -the play was over, he was welcomed at a supper in the old -Beef-steak dining-room, where there were invited to meet him -a few distinguished persons. His favourite dishes—“lentil -pudding, lamb cutlets, mushrooms in batter”—were prepared -for him by Gunter’s <i lang="fr">chef</i>. He was delighted with this delicate -hospitality. This is one of the many pleasant and dignified -memories associated with the Lyceum.</p> - -<p>It was when ‘Faust’ was being played that the catastrophe -of the burning of the French Opéra Comique occurred. This -excited general sympathy, and the kindly manager of the -Lyceum promised that when the proper time came he would -furnish assistance. In due course a performance of ‘Faust’ -was announced for the benefit of the sufferers, and a crowded<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span> -audience assembled. Everyone concerned—and they were -to be counted by hundreds—gave their services gratis—the -manager behaved in his own liberal style—and, as the result, -a sum of £419 was despatched to Paris. This liberality was -much appreciated by the French press. The <cite>Figaro</cite> devoted -an article to a review of the various characters played by the -English actor, and in flattering terms pointed out that, notwithstanding -all his detractors, Mr. Henry Irving was “the most -perfect gentleman.”</p> - -<p>During the performance of ‘Faust,’ Miss Terry found the -fatigue excessive, and, not being very strong at the time, had -to resign her part. During these intervals, the character was -supported by a clever young actress, bearing an historic name, -Miss Winifred Emery, who brought much intelligence and -refinement to her task. It was generally agreed that, considering -her resources, she had supplied the place of the absent -actress very well indeed. The <i lang="fr">feu sacré</i> was, of course, not to -be expected, and cannot be supplied to order.</p> - -<p>This appreciation of our manager-actor by the French will -naturally suggest the inquiry, What is his reputation generally -in that eminently theatrical country, whence we draw our chief -supply of dramas and dramatic ideas, and whose school of -acting is perhaps the first in Europe? So frequent have been -the visits of French companies to London, that nearly all the -leading performers have had opportunities of seeing the English -actor perform. Their ignorance of the language has, of course, -stood in the way of a satisfactory judgment—they cannot follow -the play as an average Englishman will follow a French piece; -but all have been struck by his fine faculty of imparting colour -and romance to a character, and have broken into raptures -over the intelligence that directs the scene, and the lavish -magnificence of the <em>spectacle</em>.</p> - -<p>The memorable visit of the French Comedy to London in -1879, and the fine series of performances in which every player -of note displayed his talent, curiously coincided with the new -departure on the English stage. Few will forget the deep impressions -left by that season or the opportunities afforded for a -liberal education in dramatic taste. With the company came -the <i lang="fr">fine fleur</i> of French critics, Sarcey, Claretie (since become -director of the company he had so often criticized), and others -of less note. These judges were glad to seize an opportunity, -which under other circumstances they would never have thought -of seeking, of visiting the Lyceum and witnessing the performances<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span> -of the most distinguished of English actors. I recall -Sarcey at this time, a coarsely-built man, with not very refined -features, lounging night after night into his stall, with an air of -something like arrogance. He did not relish his enforced -banishment from the Boulevards, and indemnified himself by -making rather free criticisms on the French players. He was -induced to go and see some of the English performances, but -with an amusing hauteur pleaded his ignorance of the language -as an excuse for not passing any serious judgment.</p> - -<p>“Having weighed the matter well, I have determined to say -very little regarding English actors. I have as yet seen but a -few, and those only through the medium of a language imperfectly -understood. I should be placing myself in a ridiculous -position if I had the impertinence to touch upon matters which -I am thus incompetent to deal with. I may remark, however, -that Mr. Henry Irving appeared to me a remarkable actor, notwithstanding -a wilful tendency to exaggeration. Possibly, in -this latter respect, he followed rather the taste of his audience, -whom his instinct judges, than his own deliberate choice.”</p> - -<p>To these brilliant and gifted strangers, however, the new -manager did the honours of his craft and extended to them a -kindly hospitality. Indeed, since that day, no distinguished -artist has visited these shores without being welcomed with rare -hospitality.<a id="FNanchor_41" href="#Footnote_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a></p> - -<p>The most accomplished of French comedians is Coquelin -<i lang="fr">ainé</i>, an extraordinary performer, from the versatility and even -classical character of his talents. This gifted man, who never -appears without imparting intellectual enjoyment of the highest<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span> -kind, seems to have always been attracted to the English actor, -though exhibiting his feelings in an oddly mixed fashion, compounded -of admiration and hostility. Analysis of the workings -of character is the most entertaining of pastimes, and is, of -course, the foundation of theatrical enjoyment; and the public -has much relished the controversies between two such eminent -personages. In 1886 Coquelin, during a supper at Mrs. -Mackay’s, was invited in a very flattering way by the Prince of -Wales to play in London under Mr. Mayer. At this time, in -obedience to the very natural “force and pressure” of gain -which was beginning to dissolve the great company of the -French Comedy, he had begun to “star it,” as it is called, in -the various capitals of Europe, and having found himself appreciated -in London at private houses, as well as on the stage, he -seems to have nourished a feeling that he was contending for -the suffrages of the public with the English actor! Not that -he was conscious of any actual “jealousy,” but something of -this impression was left on those who were watching the incident. -In matters of art, however, such contentions are healthy, and -pardonable enough.</p> - -<p>An early token of this curious feeling was offered in an article -published in <cite>Harper’s Magazine</cite> in May, 1887, where the -French actor discussed with some acuteness the different -systems of acting in England and in France, particularly in -the matter of what is called “natural” or materialistic acting. -He dwelt on the question how far the gifts of the comedian -will enable him to exhibit tragic characters, contending -that the practice of minute observation would materially aid -him.</p> - -<p>What was in Coquelin’s thoughts all this time would appear -to have been a sort of eagerness to measure himself with the -English actor in ‘Le Juif Polonais,’ which he looked upon as -his own, and which had made a reputation for Irving. With -some lack of taste or tact, Coquelin later challenged an English -audience to decide between the two readings of Mathias. He -performed it, I think, on two different occasions. It was an -interesting and instructive experiment, for it proved that two -artists of eminence might legitimately take directly opposite -views of the same character. But does not character in real -life offer the same varieties of interpretation? Coquelin presented -a sort of comfortable <i lang="fr">bourgeois</i>, a tradesman-like personage, -who was not likely to reach the heroic or melodramatic -place. He was not over-sensitive, nor was his remorse very<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span> -poignant; and the keynote to his agitation was the desire to -be thought respectable, to keep his position, and not be found -out. It was agreed that the two conceptions were altogether -opposed. “Irving’s hero was a grave, dignified, and melancholy -being; Coquelin’s was a stout Alsatian, well-to-do, respected -by his neighbours, but still on an equality with the -humble folk around him. Irving’s was a conscience-stricken -personage; Coquelin’s had no conscience at all. Irving’s was -all remorse; Coquelin was not in the least disturbed. He -takes delight in his ill-got treasures. The only side on which -he is assailable is that of his fears, and the arrival of the second -Jew, so like the first, terrifies him; and too much wine on the -night of the wedding brings on the disturbed dream.” The -question might be thus summarized: Irving’s reading was that -of a tragedian; Coquelin’s that of a comedian. For myself, I -confess a liking for both.</p> - -<p>A friendly and even enthusiastic appreciation of the actor -was furnished by Jules Claretie, then a critic of eminence. -“His reputation,” he said, “would be even greater than it is -if he had the leisure to extend his studies and correct his -faults; but, as Mr. Walter Pollock remarks, a man who has to -play six or seven times a week can hardly be expected to find -much time for study. England, unlike France, does not -possess a national theatre.</p> - -<p>“‘Richelieu’ was the first play in which I saw Mr. Irving -in London. Here he is superb. The performance amounts -to a resurrection. The great Cardinal, lean, worn, eaten up -with ambition, less for himself than for France, is admirably -rendered. His gait is jerky, like that of a man shaken by -fever; his eye has the depth of a visionary’s; a hoarse cough -preys upon that feeble frame. When Richelieu appears in the -midst of the courtiers, when he flings his scorn in the face of -the mediocrity that is to succeed him, when he supplicates and -adjures the vacillating Louis XIII., Mr. Irving endows that -fine figure with a striking majesty.</p> - -<p>“What a profound artist this tragedian is! The performance -over, I was taken to see him in his dressing-room. I -found him surrounded by portraits of Richelieu. He had -before him the three studies of Philippe de Champaigne, one -representing Richelieu in full face, and the others in profile. -There was also a photograph of the same painter’s full-length -portrait of the Cardinal. Before playing Louis XI. again, Mr. -Irving studied Commines, Victor Hugo, Walter Scott, and all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span> -who have written of the <i lang="fr">bourgeois</i> and avaricious king, who -wore out the elbows of his <i lang="fr">pourpoint de ratine</i> on the tables of -his gossips, the skin-dressers and shoemakers. The actor is -an adept in the art of face-painting, and attaches great importance -to the slightest details of his costume.</p> - -<p>“I asked him what other historical personage he would -like to represent, what face he, who excelled in what I call -stage-resurrection, would wish to revive. He reflected a -moment, his countenance assuming a thoughtful expression. -‘Français ou Anglais?’ he at length asked. ‘Français ou -Anglais: peu importe,’ I replied. ‘Eh bien!’ he said, after -another short pause, ‘je serais heureux de créer un Camille -Desmoulins.’</p> - -<p>“Mr. Irving’s literary and subtle mind leans to psychological -plays—plays which, if I may so express myself, are more tragic -than dramatic. He is the true Shakespearian actor. How -great was the pleasure which the performance of ‘Hamlet’ -afforded me! For a literary man it is a source of real enjoyment. -Mr. Irving, as manager of the Lyceum, spends more -than £3,000 a month to do things on an adequate scale. His -theatre is the first in London. He would like to make it a -sort of Comédie Française, as he would like to found a sort of -Conservatoire to afford young English artists the instruction -they stand so much in need of.</p> - -<p>“In Louis XI. Mr. Irving has been adjudged superior to -Ligier. Dressed with historical accuracy, he is admirable in -the comedy element of the piece and the chief scenes with the -Monk and Nemours. The limelight projected like a ray of -the moon on his contracted face as he pleads for his life -excited nothing less than terror. The hands, lean and crooked -as those of a Harpagon—the fine hands whose character is -changed with each of his <i lang="fr">rôles</i>—aid his words. And how -striking in its realism is the last scene, representing the struggle -between the dying king and his fate!”</p> - -<p>Another admirable French player, Got, once the glory of the -French Comédie, and unquestionably the most powerful and -varied performer of his day, used to come a good deal to -London between the years 1870 and 1880.</p> - -<p>It was a singular tribute to Irving that so great a player, -in his day greater even than Coquelin, should have been drawn -from his retirement to take up one of his characters. Got, the -“Dean of the French stage,” as Irving is “Dean” of the -English theatre, by-and-by felt himself irresistibly impelled to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span> -give his version of ‘The Bells.’ He induced a Paris manager -to draw forth the long-forgotten piece from its obscurity, and -presented Mathias very much on the <i lang="fr">bourgeois</i> lines of -Coquelin.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1887.<br /> -‘FAUST’—‘WERNER’—‘MACAIRE’—THE ACTOR’S SOCIAL GIFTS.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>He was now preparing for his third American tour, the object -of which was to introduce to the audiences of the United States -his splendid spectacular piece, ‘Faust.’ This had excited -much interest and expectation, and its attractions were even -magnified by distance. It was the “last word” in scenic display. -The Americans have now become a section, as it were, -of the Lyceum audiences, and it would seem to be inevitable -that at fixed intervals, and when a series of striking plays have -been given in England, the manager should feel a sort of irresistible -pressure to present the same attractions on the other -side of the Atlantic. This expedition took place in October, -1887, and was crowned with all success. Henceforth the -periodical visit to America will become a necessity; and a -new visit was already planned in concert with Mr. Abbey, which -was fixed for 1893.</p> - -<p>On the return of the company, after their United States -triumphs, ‘Faust’ was revived for a short period. At the -close of the first performance the manager announced his -plans, which were awaited with some curiosity. “The devil,” -he said, “had been to and fro on the face of the earth.” After -a month of ‘Faust,’ he proposed to give Mr. Calmour’s ‘Amber -Heart,’ to bring forward Miss Terry, while he himself was to -conclude the evening with a revival of ‘Robert Macaire.’</p> - -<p>On July 1, 1887, the manager of the Lyceum performed one -of those many kindly, graceful acts with which his name is -connected—an act done at the right moment, and for the -suitable person. He gave his theatre to benefit a veteran -dramatist, Dr. Westland Marston, who in his day had been -associated with the classical glories of the stage, and had written<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span> -the interesting ‘Wife’s Secret’ for Charles Kean. As he now -told the audience from the stage, fifty years had elapsed since -he had written his first piece for Macready. The committee -formed was a most influential one, and comprised the names -of such eminent <i lang="fr">littérateurs</i> as Browning, Alfred Austin, E. W. -Gosse, William Black, Wilkie Collins, Gilbert, Swinburne, -Tennyson, and many more. The performance was an afternoon -one, and the play selected was Byron’s ‘Werner,’ written -“up to date,” as it is called, by Frank Marshall. New scenery -and dresses had been provided, though the actor did not propose -giving another representation. He, however, intended to perform -it on his approaching American tour. It must be said -that the play gave little satisfaction, and was about as lugubrious -as ‘The Stranger,’ some of the acts, moreover, being played in -almost Cimmerian gloom. What inclined the manager to this -choice it would be difficult to say. He has rather a <i lang="fr">penchant</i> -for these morosely gloomy men, who stalk about the stage and -deliver long and remorseful reviews and retrospects of their -lives. The audience, however, sympathizes, and listens with -respectful attention.</p> - -<p>‘Werner’ was to illustrate once more the conscientious and -laborious care of the manager in the production of his pieces. -He engaged Mr. Seymour Lucas to furnish designs for the -dresses, who drew his inspirations from an old volume of -etchings of one “Stefano della Bella” in 1630. So patiently -<i lang="fr">difficile</i> is our manager in satisfying himself, that it is said the -dresses in ‘Faust’ were made and re-made three times before -they were found satisfactory. In this case all the arms of -antique pattern, the dresses, quaint head-dresses, and the like, -even down to the peculiar buttons of the period, were made -especially in Paris under Auguste’s superintendence.</p> - -<p>‘Robert Macaire,’ that strange, almost weird-like drama, was -familiar enough to Irving, who had occasionally played it in -the early part of his course, and also at the St. James’s Theatre -in 1867. For all performers of genius who have taste for the -mere <i lang="fr">diablerie</i> of acting, and the eccentric mixture of tragic -and comic, this character offers an attraction, if not a fascination. -We can feel its power ourselves as we call up the grotesque -figure; nay, even those who have never seen the piece can -have an understanding of the character, as a coherent piece of -grotesque. There is something of genius in the contrasted and -yet intimate union between the eccentric pair. In June, 1883, -there had been a performance at the Lyceum for the Royal<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span> -College of Music, when Irving had played the character, assisted -by “friend Toole,” Bancroft, Terriss, and Miss Terry—certainly -a strong cast. Toole, on this occasion, was almost too irrepressible, -and rather distorted the proportion of the two -characters, encroaching on the delicate details in the part of -his friend, and overflowing with the pantomimic humours, or -“gags,” which are the traditions of Jacques Strop. When the -piece was formally brought out, the part was allotted to Mr. -Weedon Grossmith, who was in the other extreme, and too -subordinate.</p> - -<p>The play was produced in July, 1888, and was found not so -attractive as was anticipated. It seemed as though it were not -wholly intelligible to the audience. There were some reasons -for this, the chief being the gruesome assassination at “the -roadside inn,” which is old-fashioned, being literally “played -out.” More curious was it to find that the quaint type of -Macaire seemed to convey nothing very distinct. All accepted -it as an incoherent extravagance: which opens an interesting -speculation—viz., How many such parts are there which have -been the characters of the original actors, and not the author’s—the -former’s creation, in short? Lemaître’s extraordinary -success was, as is well known, the result of a happy inspiration -conceived during the progress of the piece. From being a -serious or tragic character, he turned it into a grotesque one. -There may have been here something founded on the sort of -<i lang="fr">gaminerie</i> that seems to go with crime; or it may have been -recklessness, which, together with a ludicrous attempt at a -squalid dandyism, showed a mind not only depraved, but -dulled and <i lang="fr">embêté</i>. This sort of inspiration, where an actor -sees his own conception in the part and makes it his own, is -illustrated by ‘The Bells,’ which—in the hands of another -actor—might have been played according to conventional -laws.</p> - -<p>An English actor who would have succeeded in the part was -the elder Robson. In Irving’s case, the audience were not in -key, or in tune; the thing seemed <i lang="fr">passé</i>, though our actor had -all the traditions of the part, even to the curiously “creaking -snuff-box.”<a id="FNanchor_42" href="#Footnote_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span></p> - -<p>Among Wills’s friends, admirers, and associates—of which -his affectionate disposition always brought him a following—was -Calmour, the author of some pieces full of graceful poetry -of the antique model. Like Mr. Pinero, he “knew the boards,” -having “served” in the ranks, an essential advantage for all -who would write plays; had written several slight pieces of a -poetical cast, notably ‘Cupid’s Messenger,’ in which the graceful -and piquant Mary Rorke had obtained much success in a -“trunk and hose” character. But a play of a more ambitious -kind, ‘The Amber Heart,’ had taken Miss Terry’s fancy; she, -as we have said, had “created” the heroine at a <i lang="fr">matinée</i>. It -proved to be a sort of dreamy Tennysonian poem, and was -received with considerable favour.</p> - -<p>‘The Amber Heart,’ now placed in the bill with ‘Robert -Macaire,’ was revived with the accustomed Lyceum state and -liberality. To Alexander was allotted the hero’s part, and he -declaimed the harmonious lines with good effect. I fancy the -piece was found of rather too delicate a structure for such large -and imposing surroundings.<a id="FNanchor_43" href="#Footnote_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a></p> - -<p>Whenever there is some graceful act, a memorial to a -poet or player to be inaugurated, it is pretty certain that -our actor-manager will be called on to take the leading and -most distinguished share in the ceremonial. At the public -meeting, or public dinner, he can deport himself with much -effect.</p> - -<p>There are plenty of persons of culture who have been -deputed to perform such duties; but we feel there is often -something artificial in their methods and speeches. In the -case of the actor, we feel there is a something genuine; he -supplies a life to the dry bones, and we depart knowing that -he has added grace to our recollections of the scene. Nor<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span> -does be add an exaggeration to what he says; there is a happy -judicious reserve. This was felt especially on the occasion of -one pleasant festival day in the September of 1891, when a -memorial was unveiled to Marlowe, the dramatist, in the good -old town of Canterbury. It was an enjoyable expedition, with -something simple and rustic in the whole, while to anyone of -poetical tastes there was something unusually harmonious in -the combination offered of the antique town, the memory of -“Dr. Faustus,” the old Cathedral, and the beaming presence -of the cultured artist, of whom no one thought as manager of -a theatre. A crowd of critics and authors came from town by -an early train, invited by the hospitable Mayor. At any season -the old town is inviting enough, but now it was pleasant to -march through its narrow streets, under the shadow of its -framed houses, to the small corner close to the Christ Church -gate of the Cathedral, where the speeching and ceremonials -were discharged. The excellent natives seemed perhaps a little -puzzled by the new-found glories of their townsman; they were, -however, glad to see the well-known actor. Equally pleasant, -too, was it to make our way to the old Fountain Inn, where -the “worthy” Mayor entertained his guests, and where there -were more speeches. The image of the sleepy old town, and -the grand Cathedral, and of the pretty little fountain—which, -however, had but little suggestion of the colossal Marlowe—and -the general holiday tone still lingers in the memory. Irving’s -speech was very happy, and for its length is singularly suggestive.</p> - -<p>It was in October, 1887, that a memorial was set up at -Stratford, a clock-tower and fountain, in memory of Shakespeare. -It was the gift of the wealthy Mr. Childs, of New -York, who has been hitherto eager to associate his name, in -painted windows and other ways, with distinguished Englishmen -of bygone times. It may be suspected that Childs’s -name will not be so inseparably linked with celebrated -personages as he fondly imagined. There is a sort of incongruity -in this association of a casual stranger with an English -poet.</p> - -<p class="tb">Many a delightful night have his friends owed to the thoughtful -kindness and hospitality of their interesting host. Such is, -indeed, one of the privileges of being his friend. The stage -brings with it abundance of pleasant associations; but there -are a number of specially agreeable memories bound up with -the Lyceum. Few will forget the visit of the Duke of Meiningen’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span> -company of players to this country, which forms a -landmark of extraordinary importance in the history of our -modern stage. With it came Barnay, that accomplished and -romantic actor; and a wonderful instinct of disciplining -crowds, and making them express the passions of the moment, -as in Shakespeare’s ‘Julius Cæsar.’ The skilful German -stage-managers did not import their crowds, but were able to -inspire ordinary bands of supernumeraries with the dramatic -feelings and expression that they wanted.</p> - -<p>I recall one pleasant Sunday evening at the close of a -summer’s day, when Irving invited his friends to meet the -German performers at the Lyceum. The stage had been -picturesquely enclosed and fashioned into a banqueting-room, -the tables spread; the orchestra performed in the shadowy pit. -It was an enjoyable night. There was a strange mingling -of languages—German, French, English. There were speeches -in these tongues, and at one moment Palgrave Simpson was -addressing the company in impetuous fashion, passing from -English to French, from French to German, with extraordinary -fluency. Later in the evening there was an adjournment to -the Beef-steak rooms, where the accomplished Barnay found -himself at the piano, to be succeeded by the versatile Beatty-Kingston, -himself half German. There were abundant “Hochs” -and pledging. Not until the furthest of the small hours did we -separate, indebted to our kindly, unaffected host for yet one -more delightful evening.</p> - -<p>The manager once furnished a pleasantly piquant afternoon’s -amusement for his friends on the stage of his handsome theatre. -Among those who have done service to the stage is Mr. Walter -Pollock, lately editor of the <cite>Saturday Review</cite>, who, among -his other accomplishments, is a swordsman of no mean skill. -He has friends with the same tastes, with whom he practises -this elegant art, such as Mr. Egerton Castle, Captain Hutton, -and others. It is not generally known that there is a club -known as the Kerneuzers, whose members are <i lang="fr">amateurs enragés</i> -for armour and swordsmanship, many of whom have fine -collections of helmets, hauberks, and blades of right Damascene -and Toledo.<a id="FNanchor_44" href="#Footnote_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a></p> - -<p>Mr. Egerton Castle and others of his friends have written -costly and elaborate works on fencing, arms, and the practice<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span> -of <i lang="fr">armes blanches</i>, and at their meetings hold exciting combats -with dirk and foil. It was suggested that Mr. Castle should -give a lecture on this subject, with practical illustrations; and -the manager, himself a fencer, invited a number of friends -and amateurs to witness the performance, which took place on -February 25, 1891. This lecture was entitled “The Story of -Swordsmanship,” especially in connection with the rise and -decline of duelling. And accordingly there was witnessed a -series of combats, mediæval, Italian, and others, back-sword, -small-sword, sword and cloak, and the rest. Later the performance -was repeated at the instance of the Prince of Wales.</p> - -<p>Irving has often contributed his share to “benefits” for his -distressed brethren, as they are often called. In the days -when he was a simple actor he took his part like the rest; -when he became manager he would handsomely lend his -theatre, and actually “get up” the whole as though it were one -of his own pieces. This is the liberal, <em>grand</em> style of conferring -a favour. Miss Ellen Terry “takes her benefit” each year.</p> - -<p>In June, 1876, a performance was arranged at the Haymarket -for a benefit, when the ever-blooming ‘School for -Scandal’ was performed by Phelps, Miss Neilson, “Ben” -Webster, Irving, Bancroft, and others. Irving was the Joseph -Surface, a performance which excited much anticipation and -curiosity. Some time after he performed the same character at -Drury Lane. It might naturally have been thought that the -part would have exactly suited him, but whether from novelty -or restlessness, there was a rather artificial tone about the performance. -But what actor can be expected to play every -character, and to find every character suited to him? Joseph -we hold to be one of the most difficult in the whole <i lang="fr">répertoire</i> -to interpret. At the Belford benefit—and Belford and his -services to the stage, such as they were, are long since forgotten—the -all but enormous sum of £1,000 was received! -For schools, charities, convents even, and philanthropic work -of all kinds, some contribution from Henry Irving in the shape -of a recitation or scene may be looked for.</p> - -<p>Irving s vein of pleasantry is ever welcome as it is unpretentious. -I have heard him at the General Theatrical Fund -dinner give the toast of “The Army, Navy, and Reserve -Forces,” when he said, “There is an Artists’ Corps—I am -curious to know why there should not be an Actors’ Corps. -<em>We are accustomed to handle weapons.</em>” On this occasion -“friend Toole” had to leave on duty; “whose fine Roman<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span> -visage,” said his friend, “has beamed on us during dinner—he -has been obliged to go away, fortified, I hope, for his arduous -labours, but he will return—I know him well—and he will -too, I am sure, with a most excellent donation.” He can tell -a story or relish a humorous situation with equal effect. In -company with Toole, he has often contrived a droll situation -or comic adventure.<a id="FNanchor_45" href="#Footnote_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a></p> - -<p>At one period, when he was oppressed with hard work, it -was suggested to him that sleeping in the country would be a -great restorative after his labours. He much fancied an old -house and grounds at Hammersmith, known as “The Grange”; -and having purchased it, he laid out a good deal of money in -improving and restoring it It had nice old gardens, with -summer-house, a good staircase, and some old panelled rooms.</p> - -<p>To a man with such social tastes, the journey down and -the night spent there must have been banishment, or perhaps -was found too troublesome. Literary men, artists, and the -like do not much relish these tranquil pleasures, though -practical men of business do. I am certain most will agree -that they leave Fleet Street and the Strand with reluctance and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span> -return to it with pleasure. After a few years he was anxious -to be rid of what was only a useless toy, and it was offered for -sale for, I think, £4,000.<a id="FNanchor_46" href="#Footnote_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1888.<br /> -‘MACBETH’—‘THE DEAD HEART’—‘RAVENSWOOD.’</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>The approach of the opening night of ‘Macbeth’ caused more -excitement than perhaps any of the Lyceum productions. -There was a sort of fever of expectancy; it was known that -everything in the way of novelty—striking and sumptuous -dress and scenery, elaborate thought and study, and money -had been expended in almost reckless fashion. There were -legends afloat as to Miss Terry’s marvellous “beetle-green” -dress, and the copper-coloured tresses which were to hang down -on her shoulders.<a id="FNanchor_47" href="#Footnote_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a> The scenery was to be vast, solid, and -monumental. It was no surprise when it was learned that -before the day of performance some £2,000 had been paid for -seats at the box-office.</p> - -<p>While allowing due praise to the accomplishments and -sagacity of our dramatic critics, I confess to looking with some -distrust and alarm at a sort of “new criticism” which, like the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span> -so-called “new humour,” has developed in these latter days. -This amounts to the assumption of an aggressive personality—there -is a constant manifestation, not of the play or performers -criticised, but of the writer’s own thoughts and opinions. It -seems to be the fashion for a critic to devote his article to -Mr. ——, an opposing critic, as though the public attached any -importance to the opinions these gentlemen held of each other. -The vanity thus unconsciously displayed is often ludicrous -enough. The instances, however, are fortunately rare.</p> - -<p>Produced on December 29, the play caused considerable -excitement among Shakespearian students and “constant -readers”; and Miss Terry’s reading—or rather the appearance -of Miss Terry in the part—produced much vehement controversy. -We had “The Real Macbeth” in the <cite>Daily Telegraph</cite>, -with the usual “old playgoers” who had seen Mrs. Charles -Kean. I fancy there were but three or four persons who were -able to compare the performance of Miss Terry with that of -Mrs. Siddons—about sixty years before.<a id="FNanchor_48" href="#Footnote_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a></p> - -<p>Banquo’s ghost has always been a difficulty in every presentation -of the play; all the modern apparitions and phantasmagorian -effects neutralize or destroy themselves. The -powerful light behind exhibits the figure through the gauzes, -but to procure this effect the lights in front must be lowered or -darkened. This gives notice in clumsy fashion of what is -coming, and prepares us for the ghost.</p> - -<p>“New and original” readings rarely seem acceptable, and, -indeed, are scarcely ever welcomed by the public, who have -their old favourite lines to which they are well accustomed. -We never hear one of these novelties without an effect being<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span> -left as of something “purely fantastical,” as Elia has it, and -invariably they seem unacceptable and forced, producing surprise -rather than pleasure. Irving rarely introduces these -changes. A curious one in ‘Macbeth’ was the alteration of a -line—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“She should have died hereafter,”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">into</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“She would have died hereafter.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">That is a sort of careless dismissal of his wife’s death, as something -that must have occurred, according to the common lot.</p> - -<p>The irresolution and generally dejected tone of the Scottish -King, as presented by the actor, was much criticised, and -severely too. There was something “craven,” it was said, in -this constant faltering and shrinking. This, however, was the -actor’s conscientious “reading” of the part: he was not bound -by the Kemble or Macready traditions, but irresistibly impelled -to adopt the highly-coloured “romantic” view of our -day. He made it interesting and picturesque, and, in parts, -forcible. Miss Terry’s Lady Macbeth filled everyone with -wonder and admiration; as in the case of her Queen Katherine, -it seemed a miracle of energy and dramatic inspiration -triumphing over physical difficulties and habitual associations. -The task was herculean, and even those who objected could -not restrain their admiration.<a id="FNanchor_49" href="#Footnote_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a></p> - -<p>The pictures set forth in this wonderful representation linger -in the memory. The gloomy Scottish scenes, the castles and -their halls, the fine spreading landscapes, the treatment of the -witches, and Banquo’s ghost, were all but perfect in tone, and -had a judicious reserve. There was nothing overlaid or overdone.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span> -How admirably and exactly, for instance, did the scene -correspond to the beautiful lines:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">There painting and poetry went together! The banqueting-hall, -the arrangement of the tables, at right angles with the -audience, had a strange, barbaric effect, the guests being disposed -in the most natural fashion.</p> - -<p>After the run of ‘Macbeth’ had ceased, the manager proceeded -to carry out a plan which had long been in his thoughts, -and which many had suggested to him. This was to give -“readings,” in conjunction with Miss Terry, of some of his -plays. This would offer some respite from the enormous outlay -entailed by producing these great pieces at his theatre. -One could fancy that nothing could be more attractive than -such “readings,” the interest in the personality of the two great -performers being so generally diffused. He re-arranged “Macbeth” -for this purpose, and set off on a tour in the provinces. -But though everywhere well received, I think the plan did not -command the full success that was expected. There was a -defect somehow in the plan: two characters seemed to rob the -performance of that <em>unity</em> which is the charm of a reading. -Further, it was illustrated by the fine music, with orchestra, -etc., and this again disturbed the natural simplicity of a reading. -The actor’s own vividly-coloured imagination and tastes -could not, in fact, be content with the bald and <i lang="fr">triste</i> mechanisms -of the ordinary reader: he tried to impart what ornamentation -he could. The experiment was not, however, carried out -very long.<a id="FNanchor_50" href="#Footnote_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a></p> - -<p>Some thirty years before, in the old Adelphi days, when -“Ben” Webster was ruling, a drama was produced, the work -of a hard-working, drudging dramatist, Watts Phillips. It was -a pure melodrama, and people had not yet lost their faith in the -old devices. There was an honest belief that villainy would be -punished ere the end came. By the laws of such pieces, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span> -most painful situations were always contrasted with scenes of -broadest farce, which were supposed to relieve the excited -feelings. I well recall these humours. On the revival, however, -all this was softened away or abolished, and, I fancy, with -some injury to the constitution of the old piece.</p> - -<p>The production of ‘The Dead Heart’ furnished one more -instance of the tact and abilities which have secured the -manager of the Lyceum his high position. Here was a piece -of an old-fashioned kind, which, had it been “revived” at -an ordinary theatre, would have been found not only flat and -stale, but unprofitable for all concerned. Our manager, seeing -that it had dramatic life and situations, brought the whole -into harmony with the times, and, by the skilful <i lang="fr">remaniement</i> -of Mr. Walter Pollock, imparted to it a romantic grace. It is -admitted that he himself has rarely been fitted with a part so -suited to his genius and capacities, or in which he has roused -the sympathies of his audience more thoroughly. It is only -the romantic actor that understands what might be called the -<em>key</em> of a play.</p> - -<p>In this picturesque part of Robert Landry were exhibited no -fewer than four contrasted phases of character: the gay, hopeful -young artist; the terribly metamorphosed prisoner of nearly -twenty years; the recently delivered man, newly restored to the -enjoyment of life; and, lastly, the grim revolutionary chief, full -of his stem purpose of vengeance. This offered an opening -for the display of versatile gifts, which were certainly brought -out in the most striking contrast. But it was in the later scenes -of the play, when he appears as the revolutionary chief, that -our “manager-actor” exhibited all his resources. Nothing was -more artistic than the sense of restraint and reserve here shown, -which is founded on human nature. A person who has thus -suffered, and with so stem a purpose in view, will be disdainful -of speech, and oppressed, as it were, with his terrible design. -Quiet, condensed purpose, without any “fiendish” emphasis, -was never better suggested. Even when the drop-scene is -raised, and he is revealed standing by his table, there is the -same morose unrelenting air, with an impression that here was -one who had just passed through the fire, and had been executing -an act of vengeance which had left its mark.</p> - -<p>In a drama like ‘The Dead Heart,’ music forms a fitting -accompaniment furnishing colour and appropriate illustration. -It is almost uninterrupted from beginning to end. M. Jacobi -of the Alhambra furnished some effective, richly-coloured strains<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span> -to ‘The Dead Heart,’ alternately gay and lugubrious. More, -however, might have been made of the stirring ‘Marseillaise,’ -which could have been treated in various disguises and patterns -as a sort of <i lang="de">Leitmotiv</i>, much as Litolf has done in his symphonic -work on the same subject.</p> - -<p>A Scotch play—an adaptation of ‘The Bride of Lammermoor’—was -now prepared by Mr. Herman Merivale, a -dramatist of much poetical feeling, but whose course was -marked by piteous and disastrous incidents. Buoyed up by -the encouragement and admiration of his friends, and of kindly -critics who found merit in all he did, he struggled on in spite -of miserable health and a too highly-strung nervous temperament. -His work showed refinement and elegance, but it was -more for the reader than the playgoer. A gleam of prosperity, -however, came when Mr. Toole began to figure in the -writers grotesque pieces, ‘The Don,’ and others—to which, -indeed, the author’s wife had contributed some share.</p> - -<p>The new piece, which was called ‘Ravenswood,’ had lain -long in the manager’s cabinet, where at this moment repose a -number of other MSS., “commanded” and already purchased, -from the pens of Wills, Frank Marshall, and others. The latter -had fashioned Robert Emmett into a picturesque figure, the -figure and bearing of the manager having no doubt much that -suggested the Irish patriot; but the troubled period of Land -Leagues and agrarian violence set in at the time of its acceptance -with an awkward <i lang="fr">à propos</i>.<a id="FNanchor_51" href="#Footnote_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a></p> - -<p>There is a character, indeed, in which, as the tradition runs, -he formerly made almost as deep an impression as in ‘The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span> -Bells.’ This was Bill Sikes, and we can conceive what a -savagery he would have imparted to it. It would seem to be -exactly suited to his powers and to his special style; though -of course here there would be a suggestion of Dubosc. With -Miss Terry as Nancy here would be opened a realm of squalid -melodrama, and “Raquin-like” horrors.</p> - -<p>There are other effective pieces which seem to invite the -performance of this accomplished pair. Such, for instance, is -the pathetic, heartrending ‘Venice Preserved.’ Though there -might be a temptation here for the scenic artist—since Venice, -and its costumes, etc, would stifle the simple pathos of the -drama. ‘The Taming of the Shrew’ has been often suggested -and often thought of, but it has been effectively done at this -theatre by another company. ‘The Jealous Wife’—Mr. and -Mrs. Oakley—would also suit well. There is ‘The Winter’s -Tale,’ and finally ‘Three Weeks after Marriage’—one of the -most diverting pieces of farcical comedy that can be conceived.</p> - -<p>‘Ravenswood’ was produced on September 20, 1890. -While its scenes were being unfolded before us one could not -but feel the general weakness of the literary structure, which -was unequal to the rich and costly setting; neither did it correspond -to the broad and limpid texture of the original story. -It was unfortunately cast, as I venture to think. Mackintosh, -who performed Caleb, was somewhat artificial; while Ashton -père and his lady, rendered by Bishop and Miss Le Thière, -could hardly be taken <i lang="fr">au sérieux</i>. Irving infused a deep and -gloomy pathos into his part, and Miss Terry was, as ever, interesting, -touching, and charming. But the characters, as was -the story, were little more than thinly outlined. The scenes, -however, unfolded themselves with fine spectacular effect; -nothing could be more impressive than the scene of the first -act—a mountain gorge where Ravenswood has come for the -entombment of his father, and is interrupted by the arrival of -his enemy, Ashton. Beside it the Merivale version appeared -bald enough. The weird-like last scene, the “Kelpie Sands,” -with the cloak lying on the place of disappearance, the retainer -gazing in despair, was one of Irving’s finely poetical conceptions, -but it was more spectacular than dramatic. The truth is, -where there is so fine a theatre, and where all arts are supplied -to set off a piece in sumptuous style, these elements require -substantial stuff to support them, otherwise the effect becomes -trivial in exact proportion to the adornment.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span></p> - -<p>Irving has been often challenged for not drawing on the -talent of native dramatists, and for not bringing forward “new -and original” pieces. The truth is, at this moment we may -look round and seek in vain for a writer capable of supplying a -piece large and forcible enough in plot and character to suit -the Lyceum. We have Pinero and Henry Arthur Jones, but -they are writers of comedies and problem-dramas. Wills, in -spite of his faults, had genuine faith in the old methods. He -was of the school of Westland Marston. In this dearth of -talent, it might be well for Irving to give a commission to a -French dramatist to work on whatever subject he fancied, and -have the piece adapted.</p> - -<p>It was at the Christmas season of 1891 that the manager was -enabled to carry out a plan that had for years been before him—a -revival of ‘Henry VIII.’ We can quite conceive how, as -the fashion always was with him, the play ripened as it were -with meditation; how, as he walked or followed the consoling -fumes of his cigar in his chamber at Grafton Street, each scene -fell into shape or suggested some new and effective arrangement, -which again might be discarded as difficulties arose, or -as something happier occurred to him. The result of these -meditations was unquestionably a “large” and splendid setting -of the play, which, to my mind, whatever be the value of -the opinion, is certainly one of the finest, most finished, most -poetical, and sufficient of the many works that he has set before -us.<a id="FNanchor_52" href="#Footnote_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a> There was a greater Shakespearian propriety, and the -adornments, however lavish, might all be fairly justified. -Most to be admired was the supreme elegance of touch found -in every direction—acting, scenery, dresses, music, all reflected -the one cultivated mind. The truth is, long practice and the -due measuring of his own exertion have now supplied an ease<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span> -and boldness in his effects. To appreciate this excellence we -have only to turn to similar attempts made by others, whether -managers, or manager-actors, or manager-authors—and we find -only the conventional exertion of the scene-painter and stage-manager. -They have not the same inspiration.</p> - -<p>This play, produced on January 5, 1892, was received with -great enthusiasm. It became “a common form” of criticism -to repeat that it was of doubtful authorship; that it was -nothing but a number of scenes strung together; that there -was no story; that Buckingham vanished almost at the beginning -of the play; and that towards the end, Wolsey vanished -also. These, as I venture to say, are but ignorant objections; -characters will always supply a dramatic story, or a dramatic -interest that amounts to a story, and in the fate of Wolsey and -of Katherine, gradually developed and worked out, we had -surely a story sufficiently interesting.</p> - -<p>I have little doubt that Irving kept steadily in view the -object the great author had before him, viz., to present a page -of history enriched by all the suitable accompaniments of dress -and manners and customs. In this he was perfectly and -triumphantly successful. We were taken into the great -chambers, and tribunals; shown the ecclesiastical pomp and -state, so difficult to conceive now; the processions passing -through the streets, and presented in an exceedingly natural -and unconventional fashion.<a id="FNanchor_53" href="#Footnote_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a> The drama was set forth fully, -with every adjunct of dress, furniture, scenes, and numbers of -auxiliaries.</p> - -<p>The scenery, offering wonderful perspectives of Tudor halls -and interiors, the arrangements of the courts and various -meetings, were original and very striking. Yet here I should -be inclined to suggest anew the objections often made to the -modern system of large groupings compressed into the small -area of a stage, which, as it seems, is opposed to the canons of -scenic art.<a id="FNanchor_54" href="#Footnote_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a> These, too, seemed to acquire new force from the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span> -arrangement of the “Trial scene,” as it was called, which displayed -a great hall with the daïs, seats for the Cardinal, the -King, etc. The result of thus supplying a great area by the -system of compression (I am speaking merely of the principle), -is that the leading figures become dwindled in scale and -overpowered by the surrounding crowd. The contrast with -the older system is brought out by Harlow’s well-known picture, -where only the leading figures are grouped, and where by consequence -they stand out in greater relief. The spectator stands, -as it were, close beside them; but by the modern arrangement -he appears to be afar off, at the bottom of the hall, obtaining -but a distant view of them.<a id="FNanchor_55" href="#Footnote_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a></p> - -<p>When we consider what are the traditions of the two great -characters, how vivid they are, from the deep impressions left by -the great brother and sister on their contemporaries—an impression -which has really extended to our time—too much praise -could hardly be given to the performance of Irving and his gifted -companion. Irving’s Wolsey was exactly what those familiar -with his other impersonations could anticipate—poetical, -elegant, and in many portions powerful. He was the churchman -to perfection, carrying his robes admirably; in the face -there was a suggestion of the late departed Cardinal Manning. -All through the piece there was that picturesque acting which -fills the eye, not the ear, at the moment when speech is at -rest. It is thus that are confuted those theorists, including -Elia, who hold that Shakespeare is to be read, not acted.</p> - -<p>It is perhaps the power of suggestion and of stirring our -imagination that brings about this air of fulness and richness. -Irving, when he was not speaking, <em>acted</em> the pomp and state -and consummately depicted the smoothness of the Cardinal.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span> -When he was lost to view you felt the application of the oft-quoted -line touching the absence of “the well-grac’d” actor from the -scene, and it was wonderful to think, as we glanced round the -brilliant <i lang="fr">salle</i>—glittering with its vast crowd of well-dressed, -even jewelled, women (“Quite an opera pit!” as Ellison -would say)—to the fine stage before us, with its showy figures, -pictures, and pageants, that all this was <em>his</em> work and of his -creation!</p> - -<p>There were many diverse criticisms on Irving’s conception of -this famous character; some held that it was scarcely “large,” -rude, or overbearing enough. His view, however, as carried -out, seemed natural and consistent. The actor wished to -exhibit the character as completely overwhelmed by adverse -fortune; witness Macbeth, Othello, and many other characters. -In the last great soliloquy it was urged there was a want of -variety. Still, allowing for all traditional defects, it stands -beyond contradiction that it was a “romantic” performance, -marked by “distinction,” and a fine grace; and we might -vainly look around for any performer of our time who could -impart so poetical a cast to the character. And we may add a -praise which I am specially qualified to give, viz., that he was -the perfect ecclesiastic: as he sat witnessing the revels, now -disturbed, now careless—there was the Churchman revealed; -he was not, as was the case with so many others, a performer -robed in clerical garb.</p> - -<p>Of Miss Terry’s Queen Katharine, it can be said that it was -an <em>astonishing</em> performance, and took even her admirers by -surprise. She made the same almost gigantic effort as she did -in ‘Macbeth’ to interpret a vast character, one that might -have seemed beyond her strength, physical as well as mental. -By sheer force of will and genius she contrived to triumph. It -was not, of course, the <em>great</em> Queen Katharine of Mrs. Siddons, -nor did she awe and command all about her; but such earnestness -and reality and dramatic power did she impart to the -character that she seemed to supply the absence of greater -gifts. Her performance in the Court and other scenes of the -persecuted, hunted woman, now irritated, now resigned, was -truly pathetic and realistic. There may have been absent the -overpowering, queen-like dignity, the state and heroism, but it -was impossible to resist her—it was her “way,” and by this way -she gained all hearts. It must be confessed that nothing ever -supplied such an idea of the talents and “cleverness” of this -truly brilliant woman as her victory over the tremendous difficulties<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span> -of these parts. The performance won her the sympathies -of all in an extraordinary degree.</p> - -<p>So admirably had our manager been penetrated with the -spirit of the scenes, that he was enabled to present them in a -natural and convincing way, and seemed to revive the whole -historic time and meaning of the situation. This was particularly -shown in the scene when Buckingham is led to -execution; his address to the crowd was delivered with so -natural a fashion, with such judicious and pathetic effect, -that it not only gained admiration for the performance, but -brought the scene itself within range of every day life. For, -instead of the old conventional declamatory speech to a stage -crowd, we had some “words” which the sufferer, on entering -the boat, stopped for a moment to address to sympathizers -who met him on the way.</p> - -<p>The music, the work of a young composer, Mr. Edward -German, was truly romantic and expressive; stately and -richly-coloured. How wonderful, by the way, is the progress -made of late years in theatrical music! We have now a group -of composers who expend their talents and elegancies in the -adornment of the stage. The flowing melodies and stately -marches of the Lyceum music still linger in the ear.</p> - -<p>It was in January, 1892, when he was performing in -‘Henry VIII.,’ that a very alarming piece of news, much -magnified by report, reached him. His son Laurence was -playing at Belfast in the Benson Company, and had by some -accident shot himself with a revolver; this casualty was exaggerated -to an extraordinary degree,—three local doctors -issued bulletins; “the lung had been pierced”—until the -anxious father at last sent over an experienced surgeon, Mr. -Lawson Tait, who was able to report that the wound was -trivial, and the weapon a sort of “toy-pistol.” Much sympathy -was excited by this casualty. The manager has two sons, -Henry and Laurence, the latter named after Mr. Toole, who -are now both following their father’s profession.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1892.<br /> -‘KING LEAR’—‘BECKET.’</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>After presenting so many of Shakespeare’s great dramas, it -was to be expected that the manager could not well pass by -what has been justly styled the Titanic play of ‘King Lear.’ -This had, indeed, always been in his thoughts; but he naturally -shrank from the tremendous burden it entailed. It was prepared -in his usual sumptuous style. There were sixteen -changes of scene and twenty-two characters, and the music was -furnished by Hamilton Clarke. The scenery was divided -between Craven and Harker, the latter a very effective artist of -the same school. There were some beautiful romantic effects: -the halls, the heath, and notably the Dover scenes, were exquisite. -I doubt if their presentation has been excelled by any -preceding attempts. The barbaric tone and atmosphere of -the piece was conveyed to perfection, without being insisted on -or emphasized. It is only when we compare the ambitious -attempts of other managers who would indulge in effects equally -lavish and sumptuous, that we recognise the ability, ease, -reserve, and force of the Lyceum manager.<a id="FNanchor_56" href="#Footnote_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a> They, too, will -have their “archæology” and their built-up temples, designed -by painters of repute, and crowds; but there is present only -the sense of stage effect and the flavour of the supernumerary. -The secret is the perfect subordination of such details to the -general effect. They should be, like the figures on a tapestry, -indistinct, but effective as a background. Charles Lamb’s -well-worn dictum, that ‘Lear’ should never be acted, was -trotted forth in every criticism. There is some truth in this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span> -exaggerated judgment, because it can never be <em>adequately</em> presented, -and the performance must always fall short of the -original grandeur. With his remarks on the pettiness of the -stage-storm, one would be inclined to agree, even on this -occasion, when every art was exhausted to convey the notion -of the turmoil of the elements. The truth is, an audience -sitting in the stalls and boxes will never be seduced into -accepting the rollings and crashings of cannon-balls aloft, and -the flashing of lycopodium, as suggesting the awful warring of -the elements.</p> - -<p>‘Lear’ was brought forward on Thursday, November 10, -1892, and its presentation was a truly romantic one. The -figure had little of the usual repulsive aspects of age—the -clumsy white beard, etc.—but was picturesque. The entry -into his barbaric court, the strange retainers with their head-dresses -of cows’ horns, was striking and original. The whole -conception was human. The “curse” was delivered naturally. -In presenting, however, the senile ravings of the old monarch, -the actor unavoidably assumed an indistinctness of utterance, -and many sentences were lost. This imperfection was dwelt on -in the criticisms with superfluous iteration, and though the actor -speedily amended and became almost emphatically distinct, -this notion seemed to have settled in the public mind, with -some prejudice to the success of the piece. Though he was -thus quick to remedy this blemish, distinctness was secured by -deliberation, and at some loss of effect. The actor’s extraordinary -exertions—for he was at the same time busy with the -preparation of a new piece—exhausted him, and obliged him -for some nights to entrust the part to another. But the real -obstacle to full success could be found in the general lugubrious -tone of the character; the uninterrupted sequence of horrors -and distresses led to a feeling of monotony difficult for the -actor to vanquish. The public never takes very cordially to -pieces in which there is this <em>sustained misery</em>, though it can -relish the alternations of poignant tragedy attended by quick -dramatic changes. Cordelia, though a small part, was made -prominent by much touching pathos and grace, and the dying -recognition by the old King brought tears to many eyes.<a id="FNanchor_57" href="#Footnote_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span></p> - -<p>An interesting feature in Irving’s career has been his long -friendship with Tennyson, poet and dramatist, which lasted -for some fifteen or sixteen years. The actor showed his -appreciation of the poet’s gifts by the rather hazardous -experiment of presenting two of his poetical dramas to the -public. We have seen what sumptuous treatment was accorded -to ‘The Cup’; and in ‘Queen Mary’ the actor contributed -his most powerful dramatic efforts in the realization of the grim -Philip.</p> - -<p>The poet, however, made little allowance for the exigencies -of the stage. During the preparation of ‘The Cup,’ he contended -eagerly for the retention of long speeches and scenes, -which would have shipwrecked the piece. Yet, undramatic as -most of his dramas are, a taste for them was springing up, and -not long before his death he had the gratification of knowing -that his ‘Foresters’ had met with surprising success in America. -No less than six pieces of his have been produced, and though -the idea prevails that he has been “a failure” as a dramatist, -it will be found that on the whole he has been successful. It -may be that by-and-by he will be in higher favour. But he -will have owed much to Irving, not merely for presenting his -plays with every advantage, but for putting them into fitting -shape, with firm, unerring touch removing all that is superfluous.</p> - -<p>So far back as the year 1879 the poet had placed in Irving’s -hands a drama on the subject of Becket and the Fair Rosamund. -It was really a <em>poem</em> of moderate length, though in -form a drama, and the actor naturally shrank from the difficulties -of dealing with such a piece. The “pruning knife” would -here have been of little avail; the axe or “chopper” would -have to be used unsparingly. The piece was accordingly laid -aside for that long period; the lamented death of the poet -probably removed the chief obstacle to its production. It is -said, indeed, that almost one-half was cut away before it could -be put in shape for performance. On Monday, February 6,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span> -1893, the actor’s birthday, this posthumous piece was brought -out with every advantage, and before an assemblage even more -brilliant than usual. It revived the memories of the too recent -‘Henry VIII.,’ in which there is much the same struggle -between Prince and Bishop. The actor has thus no less than -three eminent Catholic ecclesiastics in his <i lang="fr">répertoire</i>—Richelieu, -Wolsey, and Becket; but, as he pleasantly said, he could -contrast with these an English clergyman, the worthy Dr. -Primrose, Vicar of Wakefield. Yet he admirably and dramatically -distinguished their several characters.</p> - -<p>There is always a curiosity to have the curtain lifted, so that -we may have a glimpse of a play in the throes and troubles of -rehearsal. Mr. Burgin, in one of the magazines, gave a very -dramatic sketch of how things were conducted during the preparation -of ‘Becket’:</p> - -<p>“After Mr. Irving has grouped the men on the benches, he -steps back and looks at the table. ‘We ought to have on it -some kind of mace or crozier,’ he says—‘a large crozier. Now -for the “make up.” All the barons and everyone who has a -moustache must wear a small beard. All the gentlemen who -have no beards remain unshaven. All the priests and bishops -are unshaven. The mob can have slight beards, but this is -unimportant. Now, take off your hats, gentlemen, please. -Some of you must be old, some young. Hair very short;’ -and he passes from group to group selecting the different -people. ‘Now, I think that is all understood pretty well. -Where are the sketches for dresses?’</p> - -<p>“The sketches are brought, and he goes carefully through -them. Miss Terry and Mr. Terriss also look over the big -white sheets of paper. The fox-terrier strolls up to the group, -gives a glance at them, and walks back again to Miss Terry’s -chair with a slightly cynical look. Then Mr. Irving returns to -the groups by the benches. ‘Remember, gentlemen, you -must be arguing here, laying down the law in this way,’ suiting -the action to the word. ‘Just arrange who is to argue. Don’t -do it promiscuously, but three or four of you together. Try to -put a little action into it. I want you to show your arms, and -not to keep them glued to your sides like trussed fowls. No; -that isn’t half enough action. Don’t be frightened. Better -make too much noise rather than too little, but don’t stop too -suddenly. Start arguing when I ring the first bell. As I ring -the second bell, you see me enter, and stop.’ The dog stands<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span> -one bell, but the second annoys him, and he disappears from -the stage altogether, until the people on the benches have -finished their discussion.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Irving next tries the three-cornered stools which are -placed around the table, but prefers square ones. The dog -returns, walks over to the orchestra, looks vainly for a rat, and -retreats under the table in the centre of the stage as if things -were getting really too much for him. But his resting-place is -ill-chosen, for presently half-a-dozen angry lords jump on the -table, and he is driven forth once more. After a stormy scene -with the lords, Mr. Irving walks up the steps again. ‘When I -say “I depart,” you must let me get up the steps. All this -time your pent-up anger is waiting to burst out suddenly. -Don’t go to sleep over it.’ He looks at the table in the centre -of the stage, and turns to a carpenter. ‘This table will never -do. It has to be jumped on by so many people that it must -be very strong. They follow me.’ (To Miss Terry) ‘They’d -better catch hold of me, up the steps here.’</p> - -<p>“Miss Terry: ‘They must do something. They can’t stand -holding you like that.’</p> - -<p>“Mr. Irving: ‘No.’ The door opens suddenly at top of -steps, and discovers the crowd, who shout, ‘Blessed is he that -cometh in the name of the Lord.’</p> - -<p>“The doors open and the crowd shout, but the effect is not -good.</p> - -<p>“Miss Terry: ‘It would be better if it were done at the foot of -the steps. The people needn’t show their faces as they do it, -and the effect will be so much better.’”</p> - -<p>‘Becket’ contained thirty characters, and was set off by fine -scenery and excellent music, written specially by Professor Stanford, -this not being the first time his notes had been associated -with the poet. Never have Irving’s efforts been greeted with -such overpowering, tumultuous applause. At the end of every -act there were as many as five “recalls.” In such pieces, as -well as in some of Shakespeare’s, there is always a matter of -interesting debate in fixing the era, dresses, architecture, etc.—a -matter perhaps of less importance than is supposed. Irving’s -conception of ‘Becket’ was truly picturesque and romantic; -he imported a pathetic tone, with a sort of gloomy foreboding -of the impending martyrdom, conveyed by innumerable touches. -The actor has the art of moulding his features and expression -to the complexion of the character he is performing nightly.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span> -Thus, in ‘Becket,’ it can be seen that he had already assumed -the meditative, wary look of the aspiring ecclesiastic.</p> - -<p>It is evidence of the interest excited by ‘Becket,’ that a little -discussion arose between a Benedictine Father and another -ecclesiastic on the hymn, “Telluris ingens Conditor,” which -was played in the cathedral scene and through the piece. The -Benedictine contended that it must have been some older form -of the hymn before the pseudo-classicalization “of the Breviary -Hymns in the sixteenth century.” “I do not suppose,” he -added, “that Mr. Irving’s well-known attention to detail -extends to such <i lang="la">minutiæ</i> as these. The famous cathedral -scene, in his presentment of ‘Much Ado about Nothing,’ was -received with a chorus of praise as a marvel of liturgical -accuracy. But I am told that to Catholic eyes at least some -of its details appeared incorrect.” Thus, to the monastery even, -does the fame of our manager’s efforts reach!</p> - -<p>One of the most remarkable things connected with ‘Becket’ -was the unanimous applause and approbation of the entire -press.<a id="FNanchor_58" href="#Footnote_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a> Even one or two evening papers, which had spoken -with a little hesitation, returned to the subject a few nights -later to correct their judgment and to admit that they had been -hasty. All confessed that they had been captivated by the -picturesqueness of the central figure.</p> - -<p>Apart from his professional gifts, Irving is assuredly one of -those figures which fill the public eye, and of which there are -but few. This is owing to a sort of sympathetic attraction, and -to an absence of affectation. He plays many parts in the social -scheme, and always does so with judiciousness, contributing to -the effect of the situation. His utterances on most subjects -are thoughtful and well considered, and contribute to the enlightenment -of the case. At his examination by the London<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span> -County Council, when many absurd questions were put to him, -he answered with much sagacity. His views on the employment -of children in theatres are truly sensible. More remarkable, -however, are his opinions on the science of acting, the -art of management, and of dealing with audiences and other -kindred topics, which show much thought and knowledge. He -has, in truth, written a great deal, and his various “discourses,” -recently collected in a pretty little volume, do credit to his -literary style and power of expression.<a id="FNanchor_59" href="#Footnote_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a></p> - -<p>Here we must pause. We have seen what our actor has -done, what a change he has worked in the condition of the -stage: what an elegant education he has furnished during all -these years. And though he has been associated with the -revival of the stage, and a complete reform in all that concerns -its adornment, it will be his greatest glory that he has presented -<span class="smcap">Shakespeare</span> on a grand scale, under the sumptuous and -judicious conditions and methods that have made the poet -acceptable to English audiences of our day.</p> - -<p>There have been many laments over the fleeting, evanescent -character of an actor’s efforts. If his success be triumphant, -it is like a dream for those who have not seen. Description -gives but the faintest idea of his gifts. The writer, as it were, -continues to write after his death, and is read, as he was in his -lifetime. But the player gone, the play is over. The actor, -it is true, if he be a personality, has another audience outside<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span> -his theatre. As I have shown in these pages, he can attract -by force of character the interest and sympathies of the general -community. Whatever he does, or wherever he appears, eyes -are turned to him as they would be to one on a stage. -There is a sort of indulgent partiality in the case of Irving. -He is a dramatic figure, much as was Charles Dickens. Eyes -are idly bent on him that enters next. And this high position -is not likely to be disturbed; and though all popularity is precarious -enough, he has the art and tact to adapt his position to -the shifty, capricious changes of taste, and in the hackneyed -phrase is more “up to date” than any person of his time. -The fine lines in ‘Troilus and Cressida’—the most magnificent -in Shakespeare, as they seem to me—should ring in every -actor’s ear, or indeed in that of everyone that enjoys public -favour. Alas! it must be his lot to be ever at the oar. There -is no relaxing, no repose; no coy retirement, or yielding to importunate -rivalry:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“To have done, is to hang quite out of fashion,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Like a rusty mail in monumental mockery....</div> - <div class="verse indent0">For honour travels in a strait so narrow,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Where one but goes abreast: keep, then, the path;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">For emulation hath a thousand sons,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That one by one pursue: if you give way,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Or turn aside from the direct forth-right,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Like to an enter’d tide, they all rush by,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And leave you hindmost;—and there you lie</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Like a gallant horse fallen in first rank,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">For pavement to the abject rear, o’er-run</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And trampled on; then, what they do in present,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Though less than yours in past, must o’ertop yours.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.<br /> -<span class="smaller">1893.<br /> -‘KING ARTHUR’—CORPORAL BREWSTER—HONOURS.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>When the theatre opened for the season, ‘Faust’ was revived to -fill the time, and it drew excellent and satisfactory “houses” -until the new piece was got ready. This, it was said, was rehearsed -on board the steamer on the way home. Our actor had long<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span> -before him the idea of playing the “spotless King,” and had -the late Laureate been alive he might have been tempted to -shape his great poem into a play. As it was, the versatile -Comyns Carr was intrusted with the task, and, somewhat to -the surprise of the public, he who had been art-critic, manager -of Grosvenor and New Galleries, dramatist and designer of -dresses, etc., for the Lyceum, now came forward as a poet; -and a very respectable poet he proved to be, with harmonious -mellifluous lines, effective from a stage point of view. It must -be said, however, that the play is altogether a literary one, and -rather lacks dramatic movement. It is really a series of -dramatic recitations set off by beautiful shows, processions, and -scenic views. The situations, too, scarcely brought about or led -up to, are effective enough when we reach them. The piece -was no doubt “written in the theatre” under inspiration of the -manager, and supplied exactly what he wanted. The scenery -was designed by Sir E. Burne Jones, who supplied some exquisite -combinations or arrangements of colour, which were -certainly new to stage-land. The music was Sir Arthur -Sullivan’s, and there was later to be the unusual and unprecedented -incident of no fewer than <em>three</em> knights—a musician, a -painter, and an actor—combining their talents in a single play. -Beautiful was the opening scene with the blue waters and the -swimming maidens imported from ‘Rheingold,’ with the -finding of the “Excalibur” contrived most skilfully. There -were grand halls and castles, and woodland groves, all exhibiting -much originality of touch, that unvarying effective grace -and tact which made the most of the materials. The characters -were rather faintly outlined. King Arthur and his queen -are comparatively colourless; so is Elaine. Mr. Forbes Robertson, -who played Lancelot with picturesque power, was early -withdrawn, being bound by some other engagement. His -successor, a pleasing light comedian, lacks the weight necessary -for the character. Miss Terry was, as usual, touching and -pathetic. So refined, so perfect was the general treatment, that -it attracted and drew larger and yet larger houses.</p> - -<p>As the season went on, the manager, following his favourite -policy, prepared a series of revivals on a gigantic scale. These -were virtually convenient rehearsals for the coming American -tour. But the constant changes of scenes, dresses, etc., involve -an enormous strain. The round of pieces included, -within the space of a few weeks, no fewer than eleven plays:<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span> -‘Faust,’ ‘King Arthur,’ ‘Louis XI.,’ ‘Merchant of Venice,’ -‘Becket,’ ‘Much Ado about Nothing,’ ‘The Lyons Mail,’ -‘Charles I.,’ ‘Nance Oldfield,’ ‘Corsican Brothers,’ ‘Macbeth.’ -A new short piece, ‘Journeys End in Lovers Meeting,’ by -George Moore and John Oliver Hobbes, which was to introduce -Miss Terry, was also announced. The burden of “staging” all -these great works, in a short time, must have been enormous. -But it was only in this fashion that the revivals could be done -justice to.</p> - -<p>It is a wonderful proof of our actor’s ability that, after so -many years of experiment in characters of all kinds, he should -in almost his latest attempt have made one of his most signal -successes. I doubt if anything he has hitherto tried has more -profoundly impressed his audience than the little cabinet sketch -of Corporal Brewster in Dr. Conan Doyle’s ‘Story of Waterloo.’ -This he had first presented to a provincial audience, some -eight months ago, at Bristol, with such extraordinary effect that -the general audience of the kingdom felt instinctively that a -great triumph had been achieved. Everyone at a distance at -once knew and was interested in the old corporal. A second -trial was made in London, for a charity; and at last, on May 4 -of the present year, it was formally brought forward in the -regular programme. There was what is called “a triple bill,” -consisting of Mr. Pinero’s early drama, ‘Bygones,’ this ‘Story -of Waterloo,’ and some scenes from ‘Don Quixote,’ Wills’s -posthumous work.<a id="FNanchor_60" href="#Footnote_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a></p> - -<p>This sketch of the old soldier is a fine piece of acting, highly -finished, yet natural and unobtrusive, full of pathos and even -tragedy. The actor excelled himself in numerous forcible -touches, now humorous, now pathetic. He gave the effect of -its being a large history in little; we had the whole life of the -character laid out before us. It was original, too, and the -oddities were all kept in with a fine reserve. The figure will -always be present to the memory, a satisfactory proof of excellence. -There was one mistake, however, in giving the female -character to Miss Hughes, a bright and lively <i lang="fr">soubrette</i>, -who could not, therefore, supply the necessary sympathetic -interest, though she did her best. Taking it all in all, Corporal -Brewster is, in its way, one of the most masterly things the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span> -actor has done, and it can be praised—ay, extolled—without -the smallest reservation.</p> - -<p>It was followed by the scenes from ‘Don Quixote,’ and -here, again, we must admire that admirable power of conceiving -a character in which Irving excels, and in which all true -actors should excel. It was admitted that the piece was a -“poorish” thing, but here was supplied the living image of -the hapless and ever interesting “Don,” who lived, moved, and -had his being before us, in the most perfect way. There was -a general dreaminess over him; his soul was so filled with high -chivalrous visions that he was indifferent to the coarsely prosaic -incidents going on about him. He filled the stage; the rest -were mere puppets. The character, in spite of the shortcomings -of the piece, might be made one of his best. “One -of these days”—always an indefinite period—we may look to -see him in a vigorous, well-written drama on this subject.</p> - -<p>And here it may be said that this long connection of Wills -and his school with the Lyceum has tended somewhat to the -sacrifice of brisk dramatic action, which is always enfeebled by -an excess of poetical recitations. There are still many fine subjects -and fine dramas which would kindle all the actor’s powers -afresh and stir his audiences. What a fine piece, for instance, -could be made of Victor Hugo’s ‘Notre Dame’! We already -see our actor as the mysterious and romantic monk—one more -addition to his ecclesiastical gallery. What opportunities for -scenery and music! One of the most picturesque of stories is -that of Theodore of Corsica, he who dreamed of being a king and -actually became one, and who died in the King’s Bench Prison -in the most piteous state of misery. We should like to see -him, too, as Rodin, in Sue’s ‘Wandering Jew,’ and, better still, -in ‘Venice Preserved,’ or in ‘Mlle. de Belleisle.’</p> - -<p>After his twenty years’ fruitful work at the Lyceum—twenty -years and more of picturesque labour during which a new -interest was created in the stage—an official recognition was -to be given of our actor’s high position. The year 1895 will -henceforth be notable as the year of the first tardy honour ever -bestowed on an English actor by the Crown. We have had -titled players in abundance on the stage, but they have not -owed their honours to the stage. It has been said that Sir -Richard Steele and Sir Augustus Harris are the only two titled -managers. When, in May, the usual list of what are called -“birthday honours” came out, the public was delighted to find<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span> -their favourite included, in company with a poet, a novelist, -and a successful traveller. Few Government acts have given -such general satisfaction. There was a general chorus of -appreciation. Already a lecturer before the Universities and a -doctor of letters, the leading player of his time was now -officially recognised.</p> - -<p>To no class of the community was the honour more acceptable -than to his own profession. A meeting of actor-managers -and others was held to take some step “in recognition,” it was -said, of the distinction. Mr. Bancroft presided, and a provisional -committee was formed, consisting of Mr. Toole, Mr. Pinero, -Mr. Beerbohm Tree, Sir A. Harris, Mr. Hare, Mr. Wyndham, -Mr. G. Alexander, Mr. Terry, Mr. Forbes Robertson, Mr. -Terriss, Mr. Howe, Mr. Brough, Mr. G. Conquest, and some -others. Mr. Bashford acted as secretary. Another meeting -with the same end in view was called of “proprietors, authors, -managers.” All this was very gratifying. Not less striking -was the feeling with which the news was received abroad, and -his <i lang="fr">confrères</i> of the French comedy—the “House of Molière” -as it proudly and so justly boasts itself—lost not a moment in -calling a meeting and sending him a formal “act” of congratulation. -This important document ran:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right">“Paris, <i>May 28, 1895</i>.</p> - -<p class="noindent">“<span class="smcap">Dear Sir Henry Irving</span>,</p> - -<p>“The committee of the Comédie Française and the -<i lang="fr">sociétaires</i> of the House of Molière desire to send you their -cordial congratulations, and to signify the joy they feel at the -high distinction of which you have lately been made the recipient. -We are all delighted to see a great country pay homage -to a great artist, and we applaud with all our hearts the fitting -and signal recompense paid to an actor who has done such -powerful service and profound honour to our calling and our -art. Accept, then, dear Sir Henry Irving, the expression of -the deep sympathy as artists and the sincere devotion which -we feel towards you.—(Signed) Jules Claretie, administrator-general -and president of committee; Mounet Sully, G. Worms, -Silvain, Georges Baillet, Coquelin cadet, Proudhon, etc., -of the committee; S. Reichemberg, Bartet, B. Baretta -Worms, Paul Mounet, Mary Kalb, Blanche Pierson, A. Dudlay, -etc., <i lang="fr">sociétaires</i>.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Looking back over this long period of nigh thirty years, we<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span> -are astonished to find this laborious and conscientious performer -never absent from his stage. Night after night, year -after year, he is still found at his post, defiant of fatigue or ill-health. -Only on one occasion, I think, owing to some affection -of his throat, had a substitute to take his place. The -pressure and constant struggle of our time, it may be, takes -no account of weakness or failure; no one dares relax, -and as Mrs. Siddons declared the player’s nerves must be -made of cart-ropes, so must he have a constitution of iron or -steel.</p> - -<p>Notwithstanding this constant strain upon his time and -labour, there is no figure more conspicuous in the whole round -of social duties and entertainments. Wherever there is a gathering -for the purpose of helping his profession, he is to be found -presiding or assisting. He takes his share in the important -movements of the day, and his utterances, always judicious, -useful, and valuable, are quoted abundantly.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.<br /> -<span class="smaller">L’ENVOI.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>Irving has always shown himself eager to plead for his profession, -to urge its claim as a wholesome and instructive moral -influence that will implant in the community elevating instincts -of even a religious kind. All our great actors have been forward -in this way, notably Garrick, Kemble, and Macready. The -former’s reply to the bishop as to the success and failure of -their different styles of preaching is well known. In these -days, when we have that singular “Church and State Guild,” -with the pleadings of the Reverend Stewart Headlam, and of -other clergymen, in favour of the ballet, it is curious to -find how this indulgent and tolerant view is repaid by the -introduction on the stage of grotesque curates, vicars, and -deans, the line being drawn at bishops, who now figure in -many a comic opera in absurd and even degrading situations. -Our actor is very earnest, and fondly believes that the day is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span> -approaching when the stage, and its ways and works, will be -recognised by the Church, and by good people generally, as -healthy, useful agents in the work of reforming men and women. -He is fond of repeating the Bishop’s remark to him, when he -asked why, with such a taste for the theatre, he did not frequent -it—“My dear Irving, I am afraid of the <cite>Rock</cite> and the -<cite>Record</cite>.”</p> - -<p>In his numerous addresses at institutes, and before the -Universities, he has urged the same plea. And yet, with this -skilful and loyal advocacy, we have an instinct that the stage -can have but small effect on the masses, and does little beyond -making them acquainted with certain refining ideas and situations. -As for its fostering moral or religious impressions, -by exhibiting “virtue triumphant and vice defeated,” that -seems to be rather fanciful. It is probable that the playwrights, -managers, actors, and audiences use the theatres for profit -and for amusement, not for self improvement in religion or -morals. Even the great classical works, such as those of -Shakespeare, are set forward with so much magnificence, show, -and spectacle, that the teachings are overpowered in the -spectacle and general entertainment. But even granting the -contention that it may become a pure leaven in the profession, -or sweetening salt to purify the rest, who can maintain that the -stage as a whole, with its burlesques, “grotesques,” frivolities, -fooleries, and license of speech and manners, can be considered -an edifying school for morality and religion? What a deep -impression, on the other hand, leaves such a piece as ‘The -School for Scandal’! what a genuine disgust for deceit and -insincerity! How it shows the danger of “playing with -fire”! What a pleasant sympathy is aroused with the natural, -manly virtues! Here is a certain sort of teaching if you will, -and here, too, is there an elemental morality. But in these -days we unhappily not only lack the talent to supply such -comedies, but the public taste is debauched and gorged with -grosser dishes.</p> - -<p>In his paper, addressed to the Church of England Temperance -Society, and read on March 3, 1876, Irving very valiantly -pressed for the formal recognition of his profession by the -Church. “Make the theatre respected by openly recognising -its services. Let members of religious congregations know -that there is no harm, but rather good, in entering into ordinary -amusements, so far as they are decorous. Use the pulpit, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span> -press, and the platform to denounce not the stage, but certain -evils that find allowance on it. Change your attitude towards -the stage, and, believe me, the stage will co-operate with you,” -etc.</p> - -<p>It must be said, however, as regards this friendly invitation, -that this idea of the churches cordially recommending the stage -and of the clergy being seen in the stalls, and of bishops who -would go to the theatre but for fear of the <cite>Rock</cite> and the <cite>Record</cite>, -seems but a pleasant delusion. Some few stray clerical visitants -there are, no doubt; but in all ages and climes the Church has -found itself opposed to the stage, on the ground that in the -majority of theatres is found what is destroying and corrupting. -As I have said, the pieces in which anything instructive, or -even elevating, is set forth are but few.</p> - -<p>Irving has collected his various addresses in a charming -little volume, “The Drama,” 1893. Here, in an exceedingly -persuasive and graceful style, he has expounded the principles -of his art. On every point he has something to say, and all is -marked by judiciousness and a temperate reserve. He does -not adopt Diderot’s well-known theory. How true, for instance, -is this: “Nor do I think that servility to archæology on the -stage is an unmixed good. Correctness of costume is admirable -and necessary up to a certain point, but when it ceases to be -‘as wholesome as sweet’ it should, I think, be sacrificed. The -nicest discretion is needed in the use of the materials which -are nowadays at the disposal of the manager. Music, painting, -architecture, costume, have all to be employed, with a strict -regard to the production of an artistic whole in which no -element shall be obtrusive.” When ‘Much Ado about Nothing’ -was produced, there was a scene representing a cedar walk, and -a critic discovered that there were no cedars in England until -fifty years later, on which he comments—“Absolute realism -on the stage is not always desirable, any more than the photographic -reproduction of Nature can claim to rank with the -highest art.”</p> - -<p>A little bit of pleasant comedy is found in a recent speech -of his at the dinner of the Cabdrivers’ Benevolent Association -in June last. He had always a friendly feeling for this hard-worked -body of men, as he told his audience autobiographically: -“I have spent a great part of my life in cabs. There -was a time, indeed, when a hansom, by a slight stretch of the -picturesque, might have been described as my address. That<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span> -was in the days of youth and high spirits. But there comes a -moment in the experience of all of us when the taste for adventure -is satiated, when we are no longer eager to sit under -the charioteer of the sun, and snatch a fearful joy from sharp -corners and a sudden congestion of the traffic. So when the -decisive moment came for me I dropped the hansom and took -up with the growler. I remember that my first appearance in -that staid and unambitious vehicle excited a certain amount of -feeling amongst my old friends the hansom cabmen. There -were letters of remonstrance. One correspondent, as genial a -humorist as Gentleman Joe, hinted that to be seen in a growler -was equivalent to being dead, and I think he offered to paint -my epitaph on the back. I must say that I am very comfortable -in a growler, except when the bottom drops out almost as -suddenly as if it were a gold mine. That accident once happened -to a friend of mine whose professional business compelled -him to make a quick change of dress in the cab, and as it was -a light summer evening the passers-by were astonished to see a -pair of white legs running under the vehicle, and not apparently -connected with the horse.”</p> - -<p>Again a pleasant sketch: “Taking them as a body, the -cabmen are as industrious and deserving a class as you can -find in the community. There still lingers amongst them, -perhaps, some of the old spirit which prompted the cabmen to -expostulate rather forcibly with Mr. Pickwick. And considering -the vast area in which these public servants have to work, and -the elasticity of the four-mile radius in the minds of some -citizens, the friction is surprisingly small. Not a few of us -have known cabmen whom we held in special regard. There -was one affable driver that I invited to the Lyceum, giving him -the money for admission. The next time I saw him I said, -‘Well, and how did you like the play?’ He hesitated for a -moment, choosing, as I thought, the most grateful words to -express his pleasure and admiration, and then he said, ‘Well, -sir, I didn’t go.’ ‘You didn’t go! Why not?’ ‘Well, sir, -you see, there’s the missus, and she preferred the Waxworks.’</p> - -<p>“A friend of mine, a great ornament of the medical profession, -used to tell a story of the cabman who drove him regularly -on his rounds for some years, and always spoke of him with -affectionate familiarity by his Christian name. The time came -for the rising surgeon to set up a brougham, and with much<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span> -reluctance he broke this news to his good friend the cabby, -who responded with cheerful alacrity, ‘Oh, you’re going to get -rid of me, are you? Not a bit of it—I’ll drive that brougham.’ -And drive it he did, till he became too old and infirm for the -duty. ‘Ah, well, I must give it up,’ he said one day; ‘I ain’t -fit for it any longer.’ ‘Dear me,’ said the doctor, in great concern, -‘I am very sorry, very sorry indeed. And what are you -going to do?’ ‘What am I going to do? What are <em>you</em> going -to do for me? Don’t you fear—I’ll never leave you!’ And -he spent the rest of his days on a pension. That story has -always seemed to me to put the spirit of charity and goodwill -in a thoroughly practical light. You can scarcely get through -life in this town without a sense of your dependence on cabby’s -skill and endurance, and with as grateful an obligation to him -as that of the voyager to the pilot amidst the reefs in a storm. -In this labyrinth of London, it is rare for cabby not to know -his way. I have never ceased to wonder at the cabman’s -dexterity of eye and hand—unrivalled, I venture to say, in any -other capital in Europe. And when you consider how small -is the proportion of accidents in this vast business of locomotion, -you may cheerfully grant that cabby has some claim upon -your respect and generosity.”</p> - -<p>I think the whole “key” of this is admirably appropriate, -and the touch of the lightest.<a id="FNanchor_61" href="#Footnote_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a></p> - -<p>At dinners and meetings he often glides into lively recollections -of his early days, related in an unaffected style, as when, -not long since, he told his lieges at Bristol: “My recollections -of Bristol carry me back to the days when my father -told me stirring tales of the great Bristol Riots, which had -brought him the honours of a special constable. I think I -wanted to grow up to be a special constable too, and I had -great hopes that Bristol would kindly become sufficiently riotous -to favour that ambition. But I also had a turn for natural -history, and it is indelibly stamped upon my memory that on -one occasion, when I was about four years old, I made a little<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span> -excursion by myself from St. James’s Barton to Redcliffe Street -in order to study a stag’s head which projected as a sign from -a certain house, where I was found by my anxious mother -peacefully contemplating the head of the antlered beast and -wondering why on earth he smelt so strongly of tallow. It -was soon after this incident that I witnessed a great event in -the history of Bristol, the launching of the steamship <i>Great -Britain</i>. There was a vast throng of people to see this mighty -vessel, but the one thing which monopolized my attention was -the moustache of Prince Albert, who presided over the ceremony. -I was fired by an unquenchable longing to possess a -similar ornament, and I consulted a friend of mine, a chemist, -who kept a particular brand of acid-drops which I patronized -at that time, and who consented to make a moustache for me. -It was a long business, and when I impatiently inquired how -it was getting on, he used to explain that he was growing it -somewhere at the back of his shop. Well, one day I demanded -it with an imperious energy which was not to be resisted, so he -put me on a chair and adorned my upper lip with burnt cork, -with which I went home feeling much elated, though a little -disturbed by the demonstrations of the juvenile public on the -way. I have sometimes wondered whether it was that burnt -cork—the earliest of the rites in honour of Thespis—which -gave my career the bent that has brought me among you to-day. -If my distinguished colleague, Miss Ellen Terry, were -here, she could tell you many stories of the Bristol Theatre, in -which I may almost say she was cradled.”</p> - -<p class="tb">Such is an imperfect picture of a really remarkable man, -who has left a deep impression on his contemporaries. It was -lately written of him by one not always inclined to be partial -to him: “We find the quality of nobility to be the keynote of -his character. No one ever accused him of a mean or low -act. His instincts are, to use a word that has been often -applied to them, ‘princely.’ He has in him that curious combination -of gentleness and dignity which used to be called -‘the grand style.’ Without being tortuous in his methods, he -is instinctively diplomatic, and there are suggestions of delicacy, -almost of asceticism, in his physique, which convey an impression -of refinement and possible self-denial.” Such a character -as this given of some stranger unknown would irresistibly -attract and make us eager to know him. And the author of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span> -animated pictures of society in the various capitals adds these -touches: “Whatever he does is done on a great, even a grand, -scale, and done without ostentation, without violating any of the -laws of good taste. His figure is interesting, and not wanting -in distinction. His manner is polished and gentle; his voice, -off the stage, always agreeable, and his style peculiarly -winning.”</p> - -<p class="titlepage">THE END</p> - -<p class="titlepage smaller">BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak">FOOTNOTES</h2> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> Long after, in his prosperity, he recalled to American listeners an -excellent piece of advice given him by this actress. He was speaking of -the invaluable practice of revealing thoughts in the face before giving them -utterance, where, he said, it “will be found that the most natural, the most -seemingly accidental, effects are obtained when the working of the mind is -seen before the tongue gives its words. This lesson was enjoined on me -when I was a very young man by that remarkable actress, Charlotte Cushman. -I remember that when she played Meg Merrilies I was cast for -Henry Bertram, on the principle, seemingly, that an actor with no singing -voice is admirably fitted for a singing part. It was my duty to give Meg -Merrilies a piece of money, and I did it after the traditional fashion by -handing her a large purse full of coin of the realm, in the shape of broken -crockery, which was generally used in financial transactions on the stage, -because when the virtuous maiden rejected with scorn the advances of the -lordly libertine, and threw his pernicious bribe upon the ground, the clatter -of the broken crockery suggested fabulous wealth. But after the play, -Miss Cushman, in the course of some kindly advice, said to me, ‘Instead of -giving me that purse, don’t you think it would have been much more natural -if you had taken a number of coins from your pocket and given me the -smallest? That is the way one gives alms to a beggar, and it would have -added greatly to the realism of the scene.’ I have never forgotten that -lesson.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> It is not surprising that many more should have been found to claim -the credit of “discovering” Henry Irving. Mr. W. Reeve writes: “A long -talk again with Miss Herbert. As I have two theatres on my hands and a -company, decided not to go. She seemed very disappointed; asked me -what she should do. Thought of Henry Irving, who followed me in Manchester; -advised her to write to Mr. Chambers; promised to do so as -well, if engaged, for Mr. Knowles to release him. Wrote to Chambers -about Irving.” All which, as I know from the best authority, is somewhat -imaginative. The engagement was entirely owing to Boucicault.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> Related in one of his conversations with Mr. Joseph Hatton. I have -heard Mr. Walter Lacy describe the modest, grateful fashion in which our -actor received some hints given him at rehearsal by this old and experienced -performer as to the playing of his part.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[4]</a> I may be allowed to refer those who would learn the importance of -this agent of “facial expression” to a little treatise of my own, <cite>The Art -of Acting</cite>—lecture at the Royal Institution, where it is fully discussed.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[5]</a> Of this night, my friend Mr. Arthur A’Beckett has recently recalled -some memories: “All the dramatic critics were assembled. John Oxenford—kindest -of men and ripest of scholars—for the <cite>Times</cite>, E. L. Blanchard -for the <cite>Daily Telegraph</cite>, John Hollingshead (still amongst us), the predecessor -of my good friend Moy Thomas of the <cite>Daily News</cite>, Leicester -Buckingham for the <cite>Morning Star</cite>, Desmond Ryan (I think) for the <cite>Standard</cite>, -Heraud for the <cite>Illustrated London News</cite>, Tomlins or Richard Lee for -the Advertiser, and Joseph Knight (again one of our veterans) for the -<cite>Sunday Times</cite>. There were others—Clement Scott, W. S. Gilbert, Andrew -Halliday, Tom Robertson, Harry Leigh, Jeff Prowse, Tom Hood—all -members of the Savage Club in the days before clay-pipes went out of -fashion. We were assembled to see a new piece by Dion Boucicault, then -one of the most prolific of dramatists. Well, we were waiting for the -curtain to draw up on the first act of the new play. It was called ‘Hunted -Down,’ and it was buzzed in the stalls that Dion had picked up a very -clever young actor in the provinces, who, after a short career in town, had -made his mark in Manchester. He was called Henry Irving. Then there -was another comparatively new name on the bills—Ada Dyas. The piece -had a strong plot, and was fairly successful; but, assisted by the title, I -believe it was a fight against long odds. A repentant woman ‘with a past’ -was hunted down. I fancy Miss Herbert (one of the most charming -actresses that ever trod the boards) was the ‘woman with the past,’ and -that it was she who was ‘hunted down.’ But, although my impressions -of the play are vague and blurred, I can see Henry Irving as the most -admirable villain—cool, calm, and implacable—and Ada Dyas as his -suffering wife. They stand before me as I write, two distinct figures. Of -the rest of the piece, I repeat, I remember next to nothing.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[6]</a> At this time I happened to be living in Dublin, and recall with pleasure -the comedian’s striking face and figure, and the entertainment that he imparted. -Once buying a newspaper in a shop that was close by the fine old -Theatre Royal, since destroyed by fire, a “characteristical” pair entered, -whom I recognised from having seen them on the stage. I was particularly -struck with the pale, well-marked features, the black flowing hair, the dress of -correct black, the whole very much suggesting Nicholas Nickleby, or some -other of Dickens’ “walking gentlemen.” There was something strangely -attractive about him, and a courteous, kindly tone to the owner of the shop -as he made his purchase. When the pair had departed the lady’s tongue -“grew wanton in his praise.” “Oh, but Mr. Irving,” she said enthusiastically, -“he is the <em>one</em>; a perfect gentleman! Every morning he comes in -to buy his newspaper, and he do speak so <em>nicely</em>. I <em>do</em> think he is a charming -young man,” etc.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[7]</a> The good-looking Montague, following the invariable development, -seceded from the management and set up a theatre for himself. This not -proving successful, he went to America, where he died early.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">[8]</a> It has been stated, I know not with what truth, that he was engaged -at a salary of £15 a week, which was raised on the success of ‘The Bells’ -to £35.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">[9]</a> Originally the piece opened with the second act, and the manager was -said to have exclaimed: “Oh, bother politics! give us <em>some domestic business</em>.” -This led to the introduction of the tranquil, pastoral scene at -Hampton Court. The closing scene, as devised by the author, represented -the capture of the king on the field of battle. “Won’t do,” said the -“Colonel” bluntly; “must wind up with <em>another</em> domestic act.” Sorely -perplexed by this requirement, which they felt was correct, both author -and actor tried many expedients without success, until one evening, towards -the small hours, the manager, who appeared to be dozing in his chair, -suddenly called out: “Look at the last act of ‘Black-eyed Susan,’ with -the prayer-book, chain, and all.” All which may be legendary, and I give -it for what it is worth.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">[10]</a> I recall the manager’s complacent anticipation of the success of his -<i lang="fr">coup</i>. “Clayton,” he said, “was a clever, spirited fellow, and would assuredly -make a hit in the part.” He certainly played respectably, and made -up by earnestness what he lacked in other points. He was particularly -proud of his own “make up.” But his inharmonious voice was against -him, and it was impossible to “take him” seriously.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="label">[11]</a> “<em>Lyceum.—Charles I., Mr. Henry Irving.</em> The profound admiration -that has been manifested by all classes (for the past four months) in this -noble poetic play, and the unqualified approval bestowed by the most -illustrious auditors upon Mr. Henry Irving’s great creation of the martyr-king, -have marked a new era in public taste. The manager is proud to be -able to announce that the immense audiences nightly assembled render any -change in the performances impossible.—<em>Miss Isabel Bateman</em>, in her -tender and exquisitely pathetic portraiture of Queen Henrietta Maria.—<em>Mr. -George Belmore</em>, in his vigorous and masterly assumption of Oliver Cromwell.” -Thus the modern Elliston.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="label">[12]</a> I have seen in an old criticism a notice of a leading performer who -in similar fashion “condescended”—so it was phrased—to the part of the -Ghost, and whose impersonation was declared to be “more than usually -<em>gentlemanlike and reputable</em>.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="label">[13]</a> Old Cibber thus grumbled at Garrick’s rise, and other quidnuncs at -Kemble’s; and when Edward Kean came, there was the old prompter, who, -when asked his opinion if he were not equal to Kemble, said: “Very -clever young man indeed, very clever; but Lord bless you, sir, Mr. -Kemble <em>was a different thing altogether</em>.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14" class="label">[14]</a> I have a vast collection of these things, filling some fourteen great -folio volumes—an extraordinary tribute to the actor’s success.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15" class="label">[15]</a> At the close of the performance, Mr. Chippendale presented to him -the sword used by Kean when playing Richard. Later a friend gave him -“the George,” which the great actor also wore in the part. Lady Burdett-Coutts, -always one of his great admirers, added Garrick’s ring, “in recognition -of the gratification derived from his Shakespeare representations, -uniting to many characteristics of his great predecessors in histrionic art -(whom he is too young to remember) the charm of original thought.” I -may add that I was the medium of conveying to Irving Macready’s dress -as Virginius, at the request of Mrs. John Forster, to whose husband it had -been given by the great tragedian, with the accompanying “tinfoil -dagger” with which he used to immolate Virginia.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_16" href="#FNanchor_16" class="label">[16]</a> One night, during the performance of ‘Hamlet,’ something was thrown -from the gallery on to the stage. It fell into the orchestra, and for a time -could not be found. A sad-looking working-woman called at the stage-door -to ask about it, and was glad to learn it was found. It was only a -cheap, common thing. “I often go to the gallery,” she said, “and I wanted -Mr. Irving to have this. I wanted him alone in the world to possess it.” -“This,” he added, telling the story, “is the little trinket which I wear on -my watch-chain.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_17" href="#FNanchor_17" class="label">[17]</a> Her valedictory address ran: “Mrs. Bateman begs to announce that -her tenancy of the Lyceum Theatre terminates with the present month. -For seven years it has been associated with the name she bears. During -the three years and a half that the business management has been under -her special control, the liberal patronage of the public has enabled her to -wind up the affairs of each successive season with a profit. During this -period ‘Macbeth’ was produced for the first time in London without -interpolation from Middleton’s ‘Witch.’ Tennyson’s first play, ‘Queen -Mary,’ was given; and Shakespeare’s ‘King Richard III.,’ for the first time -in London from the original text. Mrs. Bateman’s lease has been transferred -to Mr. Henry Irving, to whose attraction as an artist the prosperity -of the theatre is entirely attributable, and she confidently hopes that under -his care it may attain higher artistic distinction and complete prosperity. -In conclusion, Mrs. Bateman ventures to express her gratitude for the -kindness and generosity extended to her by the public—kindness that has -overlooked many shortcomings, and generosity that has enabled her to -faithfully carry out all her obligations to the close of her tenancy.—Lyceum, -August 31, 1878.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_18" href="#FNanchor_18" class="label">[18]</a> It was built in 1830, so it is now over sixty-five years of age. The -lease, held from Lord Exeter, has not many years to run—some twenty -or so, I believe.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_19" href="#FNanchor_19" class="label">[19]</a> He was described by a friend as “always just arrived by the mail in -time to see the fish removed, or as going off by the early coach after the -last dance at four in the morning.” He wrote his own epitaph—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Here lies Samuel Beazely,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Who lived hard and died easily.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_20" href="#FNanchor_20" class="label">[20]</a> The actress is of a genuinely theatrical family. Readers of Scott’s Life -will recall the clever, industrious Terry, who was long connected with the -Edinburgh stage, and had himself adapted so many of the Scott novels. -Miss Terry’s father was also long connected with the Edinburgh stage; her -three sisters, her brother, her two children, have all found their way to the -“boards.” Even the precocious child performer, Minnie Terry, is different -from other prodigy children, and imparts a distinction to what is usually a -disagreeable sort of exhibition. I take from the pages of <cite>The Theatre</cite> the -following minute account of Miss Terry’s career:—“Miss Ellen Terry was -born at Coventry on February 27, 1848. Her first appearance on the stage -was made at the Princess’s Theatre, under the management of Mr. Charles -Kean, on April 28, 1856. On October 15 of the same year she appeared -as Puck in the revival of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream.’ In Mr. Kean’s -production of ‘King John,’ on October 18, 1858, she acted the part of -Arthur. She next appeared at the Royalty and Haymarket Theatres, and -at the latter house she played in ‘Much Ado About Nothing.’ In March, -1863, she acted Gertrude in ‘The Little Treasure,’ at the Haymarket. -She then acted at the Queen’s Theatre in Long Acre, where, on October 24, -1867, she sustained the character of Rose de Beaurepaire in ‘The Double -Marriage,’ also in ‘Still Waters Run Deep’; and, on December 26 of the same -year she acted for the first time with Mr. Henry Irving, playing Katherine -to his Petruchio in ‘The Taming of the Shrew.’ Miss Terry then retired -from the stage for some years, reappearing on February 28, 1874, at the -Queen’s Theatre, as Philippa Chester in ‘The Wandering Heir.’ On -April 18 of the same year she acted Susan Merton in ‘It’s Never Too Late -to Mend,’ at Astley’s Theatre, a performance which the <cite>Daily News</cite> thought -worthy of ‘especial mention.’ Miss Terry’s first ‘hit,’ however, was made -in April, 1875, when she acted Portia in ‘The Merchant of Venice,’ at the -Prince of Wales’s Theatre. At the same theatre, in May following, she -acted Clara Douglas in ‘Money’; and on August 7, 1875, she appeared at -the Princess’s Theatre, for one night only, as Pauline in ‘The Lady of -Lyons.’ In November following she acted Mabel Vane in ‘Masks and -Faces’; and in May, 1876, she played Blanche Haye in ‘Ours,’ at the -Prince of Wales’s Theatre. Going to the Court Theatre, in the autumn of -the same year, she appeared in ‘The House of Darnley,’ and represented -Lilian Vavaseur in ‘New Men and Old Acres.’”—Her first appearance was -not in 1856, as so many have set down, but in 1854. This was in the part -of one of the young princes “murdered in the Tower,” though it has been -often stated that the part was the child one of Mamilius in ‘The Winter’s -Tale.’ This was ascertained by my late friend Dutton Cook, one of the -most painstaking and accurate of men.</p> - -<p>Two rival houses in Coventry at this moment claim to be her birthplace. -A greengrocer, at No. 5, Market Street, displays a plate or placard, announcing -that she was born in his house: while a haberdasher, at No. 26, -over the way, protests that “This house is the original birthplace of Miss -Ellen Terry, <em>and no other</em>. Observe the name, <em>Terry House</em>.” Two other -householders make the same claim. But an “old nurse” declares for No. 5.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_21" href="#FNanchor_21" class="label">[21]</a> Time moves so quickly on that many will have forgotten that the -popular writer Pinero, whose dramatic works are now in such demand, -was at this time an obscure, painstaking actor, and one of the first to take -service in Irving’s <i lang="fr">corps</i>. By-and-by he brought the manager some slight -pieces, such as ‘Daisy’s Escape,’ to serve as <i lang="fr">levers de rideau</i>. These were -neatly written and full of spirit. He thus practised his pen, and, as the -stage was of large size, had to aim at broad, bold effects, a treatment which -has been of material service in his more formal pieces. To his efforts as -an actor we can scarcely extend the admiration we have for his writings; -and his performance of Sir Peter Teazle at the Haymarket was a strange, -wonderful thing.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_22" href="#FNanchor_22" class="label">[22]</a> Amiable and forbearing as Irving has always shown himself to his -subordinates, he can be resolute in seeing that what he wishes or wants is -carried out. Schemes of scenery found available on trial have again and -again been condemned because they failed to bring about the effect desired. -This, however, is the secret of the unity and homogeneousness of his productions. -It is admitted that even in the matter of the elaborate orchestral -music, which we might fancy he would leave to the professors, he has much -to say and alter. It may strike him as not being suited to the situation. -Fresh experiments will have to be made, to be also set aside, to the despair -of the composer. Then the <i lang="fr">difficile</i> manager will be heard to attempt, -vocally, some rude outline of what he desires, and this rude suggestion the -ready musician will grasp and put into shape, and it will be agreed <i lang="la">nem. -con.</i> that somehow this last attempt suits the situation exactly. This sense -of perfect propriety <i lang="la">in omnibus</i> is a “note” of our manager’s character.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_23" href="#FNanchor_23" class="label">[23]</a> Once, at Edinburgh, during a performance of ‘The Merchant of -Venice,’ the students of the University had been very tumultuous, and -scarcely a word was heard of the first scenes. Suddenly the drop-scene -descended, and the actor appeared. There was silence when, with perfect -good-humour and firmness, he said that, owing to some misunderstanding, -the first portion of the piece had not been heard by the audience, and that -he was now going to recommence the whole from the beginning. And so -it was done.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_24" href="#FNanchor_24" class="label">[24]</a> Arthur Matthison, a quaint, clever American, who had written some -successful dramas, was chosen to play “the double” of the leading actor: -that is, after passing behind the “practicable” tree, he was to emerge, -taking care to keep his back to the audience. Unluckily for stage effect, -no known art will help “to dodge Nature” in such points. She has no -<em>replicas</em> in her store: makes everything distinct. And it is significant of -the strong individuality which belongs to the whole body as well as to the -face, that the eye will at once note the difference of expression in the outline -of the figure, arms, etc. I believe no two people could be found so -alike in their general appearance as to be indistinguishable—thus illustrating -the late Mr. Carlyle’s quaint phrase when speaking of someone whose -character he had interpreted unfavourably, “<em>I knew it by the twist of the -hip of him</em>.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_25" href="#FNanchor_25" class="label">[25]</a> A curious little controversy arose as to the authorship of the <cite>Ghost -Melody</cite>. It was claimed for Mr. Stöpel, who was acting as <i lang="fr">chef d’orchestre</i> -at the Théâtre Historique when the play was originally produced. Another -claim was made for Varney, author of the stirring hymn, <cite>Mourir pour la -patrie</cite>. Oddly enough, Stöpel, who was then at the Adelphi, could not be -got “to say yes or no.” “He was amused,” he said, “at the importance -attached to such a trifle, and could, if he chose, set the matter at rest in a -few words.” But he did not. Still, there used to be a pianoforte piece by -one Rosellen—a <cite>Reverie</cite>—which certainly began and went on for many -bars in the same fashion. However, a copy of the music of the <cite>Ghost -Melody</cite>, arranged for the pianoforte, and published in 1852, was unearthed, -which bore on its title the words: “Composed by M. Varney, of the -Théâtre Historique: arranged by R. Stöpel, director of the music at the -Princess’s Theatre.” This settled the point, and it explained the ambiguous -declaration of the arranger. We must assuredly give the whole credit of -this air to Varney.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_26" href="#FNanchor_26" class="label">[26]</a> One agreeable night which was spent behind the scenes enabled me to -study the admirable arrangements by which this complicated operation was -carried out with smoothness and success.</p> - -<p>No sooner has the drop-scene fallen—and a person always “stands by” -to see that the huge roller is kept clear of careless spectators—than a busy -scene sets in. Instantly men emerge from every side; the hills and banks, -the slopes leading down the hill, the steps and massive pedestal that flank -the entrance to the Temple on the right, are lifted up and disappear -gradually; the distant landscape mounts slowly into the air; the long -rows of jets are unfastened and carried off—in three or four minutes the -whole is clear. At this moment are seen slowly coming down from aloft -what appear to be three long heavy frames or beams—two in the direction -of the length, one across the whole breadth of the stage. These make a -sort of enclosure open on one side, and form the pediment or upper portion -of the Temple meant to rest on the pillars. Soon busy hands have joined -these three great joists by bolts and fastenings; the signal is given, and it -begins to ascend again. Meanwhile, others have been bringing out from -the “scene dock” pillars with their bases, and arranging them; and as the -great beams move slowly up to their place, they hoist with them the -columns, attached by ropes which pass through. By this time all the -columns are swinging in the air; another moment and they have dropped -into their places in the pedestal. The place of each pedestal is marked on -the floor. In a few moments everything is fitted and falls into its place, -with an almost martial exactness. Then are seen slowly descending the -other portions of the roof, sky-borders, etc., all falling into their places -quietly and with a sort of mysterious growth. We have glimpses in the -galleries aloft of men hauling at ropes and pulleys, or turning “drums.” -Finally the whole is set and complete, and men bear in the altars and steps -and the enormous idol at the back—over twenty feet high. It is worth -while looking close even at the sound and effective modelling of the raised -classic figures that encircle the lower portions of each column, all in good -relief, such as we see in Mr. Alma Tadema’s pictures. The variety and -richness of these are surprising, and they fairly bear a close inspection. -They are coloured, too, with that ivory tone which the older marbles -acquire. All this was wrought in the property-room, and worked in clay; -the figures were then plastered over with paper, or <i lang="fr">papier-mâché</i>, a material -invaluable to the scenic artist as furnishing relief and detail so as to catch the -lights and shadows, having the merit of being exceedingly light and portable, -of bearing rough usage and knocking about, which carved wood -would not. The idol, now looming solemnly at the back, is formed of the -same material. It is curious to find that the pillars and their capitals are -all constructed literally in the lines of perspective, as such would be drawn -on a flat surface; they diminish in height as they are farther off, and their -top and bottom surfaces are sloped in a converging line. Thus the “building” -stood revealed and complete, and round the pillars ran an open space, -enclosed as it were by the walls. What with the gloom and the general -mystery, the whole would pass, even to those standing by, as a very imposing -structure.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_27" href="#FNanchor_27" class="label">[27]</a> One morning, during the preparations, I found myself in the painting-room, -where Mr. Craven was busy with one of the interesting little models -of scenery by which the effect can be tested. The reader may not know -that the scenic artist has his model theatre, a foot or so wide, but made -“to scale.” He has also ground-plans of the stage, showing all the -exits, etc., also done to scale. By these aids the most complicated -scenes can be designed and tried. I was struck with the careful, conscientious -fashion in which the manager discussed a little Venetian scene, -rudely painted in water-colours, which had just been set. He saw it -in connection with the entrances of the actors, and was not quite satisfied -with the arrangement. He tried various devices, and proposed a gateway, -which entailed making a new design. This he suggested to the painter -with pleasant persuasion and kindly apologetic courtesy, but was, as always, -firm in his purpose. If a second experiment did not satisfy, it must be -tried again. <i lang="la">Suaviter in modo</i>, etc., is certainly his maxim.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_28" href="#FNanchor_28" class="label">[28]</a> This performer is associated with the best traditions of the good old -school; and is linked with many interesting associations. It is curious, -too, to think that he belongs, or belonged, to the Society of Friends. We -have, and have had, a good many Jews upon the stage, but a Quaker is a -rarity. When he was in America, he related the story of his life to an -inquirer: “I was attending a public school in Yorkshire. It was a Quaker -school at Ackworth, although boys not of Quaker parentage attended it. -Somehow I was always selected to recite some piece for the visitors—some -of those old pieces, you know, such as <cite>The Roman Gladiator</cite>, or -<cite>Paul before Agrippa</cite>. In this way I acquired my first liking for the stage. -One night I went with my cousin John to the Old Drury Lane Theatre to -see Kean, who was then creating a <i lang="fr">furore</i> by his magnificent acting. In -those days, you know, they sold good seats in the gallery for a shilling; so -I and my cousin Jack paid our shilling—the usual half-price—and went -into the gallery. I shall never forget that night. The playing opened, I -think, with the third act. I see Kean as plainly as if it were only yesterday. -There he sat, a small man, upon his throne in the middle of the -stage. Well, after leaving the theatre, Jack and I had to cross a bridge -on our way home. I sat down in the recess of the bridge, almost overcome -by my emotion, and said, ‘John, I am going to be an actor.’ He -tried to dissuade me, and laughed at the folly of the idea, but my mind was -made up.” One of the most striking incidents at a recent production of -‘King Lear’ was the ‘ovation,’ as it is called, which greeted the veteran -as he presented himself in a small character.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_29" href="#FNanchor_29" class="label">[29]</a> For a time the house was “on crutches,” as it is called, an operation -of considerable architectural delicacy. In the great “cellarage” below -the stage, huge storehouses filled with the rubbish of half a century, were -discovered masses of decayed peacocks’ feathers, which much perplexed -the explorers and everybody else, until it was recalled that these were the -antique “properties” used by Madame Vestris in one of her Planché -burlesques. The labour was herculean, and the indefatigable Bram Stoker -threw himself with heart and soul into the business. We might lament, -however, that the beautiful interior suffered somewhat in the later alterations. -The elegant contour was disturbed; the double pillars, which recurred -periodically in the dress tier, were reduced to a single one. The -fine entrance-hall lost its symmetry from being enlarged. But such sacrifices -are absolutely necessary, and are not the first that have had to be made under -“the form and pressure of the time.” The alterations cost a very large -sum indeed, but our manager has always been an improving tenant, and -has periodically laid out vast sums on the improvement and decoration of -his house.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_30" href="#FNanchor_30" class="label">[30]</a> Mr. Labouchere, a shrewd observer, a friend and admirer of the actor’s -abilities, always speaks out his opinions in plain, blunt terms: “An actor -must, in order to win popularity, have mannerisms, and the more peculiar -they are, the greater will be his popularity. No one can for a moment -suppose that Mr. Irving could not speak distinctly, progress about the -stage after the fashion of human beings, and stand still without balancing -to and fro if he pleased. Yet, had he not done all this, he would—notwithstanding -that there is a touch of real genius about his acting sometimes—never -have made the mark that he has. He is, indeed, to the stage -what Lord Beaconsfield was to politics. That exceedingly able man never -could utter the resonant clap-trap in which he so often indulged, and which -made men talk about him, without almost showing by his manner that he -himself despised the tricks which gave him individuality. Were Mr. Irving -at present to abate his peculiarities, his fervent worshippers would complain -that their idol was sinking into mere common-place. Therefore, as I sincerely -hope that, for his sake, the idolaters will continue to bow down -before him and fill his treasury, I trust that he will never change.” There -is a cynical flavour in this, and it is not very flattering to the audience, but -underlying it there is some truth.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_31" href="#FNanchor_31" class="label">[31]</a> A rapturous article from a Liverpool critic, Mr. Russell, had appeared -in <cite>Macmillan’s Magazine</cite>, which was, indeed, somewhat indiscriminating in -its praises of the Lyceum ‘Romeo and Juliet.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_32" href="#FNanchor_32" class="label">[32]</a> Mr. Forbes Robertson, who is painter as well as actor, depicted this -striking scene on canvas, giving portraits of the performers. It has been -engraved (or rather “processed”) with very happy result.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_33" href="#FNanchor_33" class="label">[33]</a> It was an unusual tribute to the interest excited in every direction by -the actor’s personality, that in the December of this year the lady students -at University College should have chosen him for the subject of a formal -debate, under the presidency of the clever Miss Fawcett. The thesis set -down was, “That Henry Irving has, by his dramatic genius, earned his -place as foremost among living actors,” and the discussion was begun with -much spirit and fluency by Miss Rees, who proceeded to give an analysis -of his Hamlet and other characters, contending that his extraordinary -<em>success</em> was a proof of his merit. The opposition was led by Mrs. Brooksbanks, -who fairly and unsparingly attacked the actor for his mannerisms -and various defects. After a reply from Miss Rees, the original motion -was put to the ladies, and was carried by a slender majority. The actor -must have read these proceedings, which were flattering enough, with much -enjoyment.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_34" href="#FNanchor_34" class="label">[34]</a> An idea of what a “tremendous” business this was may be gathered -from a single detail. A well-known experienced wigmaker from Covent -Garden, with two assistants, was engaged to look after the <i lang="fr">coiffures</i> of the -company, and these “artists in hair” had under their charge a collection -of wigs, entirely new, no fewer than eleven hundred in number. On a -later visit there were fifteen hundred wigs!</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_35" href="#FNanchor_35" class="label">[35]</a> Where it now hangs over the chimneypiece in the Guests’ Room. It -is not so successful as many others of Millais’ works; it is rather sketchily -painted, and lacks force and expression. The late Mr. Long painted -the actor as Hamlet and Richard III. These are not very striking performances, -but they are refined and interesting portraits. Mr. Whistler -produced an extraordinary one of him as Philip II., strangely “shadowy” -but powerful, and of preternatural length. A number of artists of less pretension -have also essayed to limn the actor; but all have failed to sketch -the mobile, delicate expression of the lips. Boldly daring, I myself have -fashioned a bust of him in terra-cotta.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_36" href="#FNanchor_36" class="label">[36]</a> It is said that the origin of the acquaintance between Irving and this -statesman was an accidental encounter in the street, when the latter, with -a sympathetic impulsiveness, stopped Irving and introduced himself. He -has since been an assiduous frequenter of the Lyceum, and in his eighty-third -year was seen in the stalls or behind the scenes, following the course -of ‘Henry VIII.’ with unabated interest.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_37" href="#FNanchor_37" class="label">[37]</a> These newspapers were sent to me without interruption through the -whole tour by Irving’s direction.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_38" href="#FNanchor_38" class="label">[38]</a> A description of a “first-night” at the Clement Street Opera House is -worth quoting here:</p> - -<p>“Ladies took their place in line and waited for hours to get tickets for -the opening performance. The face of the tall and genial Bram Stoker, -Mr. Irving’s agent, wore a broad smile as, standing in the vestibule, he -noticed the swelling crowd passing between the continually swinging doors. -The array of regular first-nighters was up to the notch, and all the familiar -faces, not only those most looked for with the lorgnettes, but those that -vanish between the acts, were there. Tall Tom Donaldson, one of Blaine’s -lieutenants, whose wife and daughter were in one of the boxes, was leaning -against the wall talking to Judge William Haydon, formerly of Nevada, -one of the oldest theatre-goers in the United States, who saw Edmund -Kean play Hamlet, and thinks Irving the best actor he has seen since. -Joseph F. Tobias, ruddy, genial, and Chesterfieldian as ever, was shaking -hands at every turn, and L. Clark Davis, in immaculate evening dress and -pearl studs, but with the inevitable Bohemian hat, was the centre of a -chatty group. Charles E. Cramp and Horace Warding were talking to -Dr. Thomas H. Andrews, who has the largest theatrical practice of any -physician in Philadelphia, and has been called to attend half the stars who -have appeared here in recent years. Almost every well-known first-nighter -was on hand, and the invariable sentiment was that this was the big event -of the present year. There were many well-known people who are not -often seen at the theatre, notably Daniel M. Fox, Director of the Mint, -who sat in the centre aisle, near the stage, with a party of friends, and -appeared to enjoy the performance very much. Just back of him was a -large party from Bethlehem, Pa. John R. Jones, the Bible publisher, had -with him Miss Jones, in a stunning gray imported costume, one of the most -artistic in the theatre. Robert W. Downing had quite a party. There -were several large theatrical parties. The most noticeable was the one -given by Miss K. N. Green, which included many attractive ladies. Ex-Attorney-General -Brewster was the centre of quite a large party in the -orchestra, including several ladies. A very beautiful bevy was the party -given by Miss Hattie Fox, daughter of George S. Fox, which numbered -thirty-five. They all had seats in the orchestra circle. Some of the most -fashionable people had to be content with seats upstairs, and there was one -party of young ladies in the family circle who were in full dress and went -direct in carriages, at the close of the performance, to the dancing-class.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_39" href="#FNanchor_39" class="label">[39]</a> When the piece was first given at the Court Theatre, there was a bit -of realism that was almost too conscientious. The little family music was -accompanied on a genuine old harpsichord, which, it was gravely announced -in the bill, was actually dated 1768, about the period of the novel, and was -of course, “kindly lent” by the owner.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_40" href="#FNanchor_40" class="label">[40]</a> It is but fair to add that Mr. Conway was suffering from the approach -of a serious illness, which declared itself shortly after.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_41" href="#FNanchor_41" class="label">[41]</a> I recall a Sunday morning during this visit, when a message arrived -from the manager asking me to join a festive party to Dorking, to which -he had invited some members of the French comedy. At the Garrick Club, -the favourite coach, “Old Times,” was waiting, and presently it was -“Buzz!—here come the players.” A delightful drive it was, and a truly -enjoyable day. There was Mounet Sully, the fervent stage lover—then, it -was whispered, the prey of a hopeless attachment to the gifted “Sarah”—the -<i lang="fr">spirituel</i> Delaunay, still a <i lang="fr">jeune premier</i> in spite of his years; with two -or three others of the <i lang="fr">corps</i>. Of the party were also my friend Mr. Walter -Pollock, with his genial, well-cultured father, the late Sir Frederick; -Campbell Clarke, French correspondent to the <cite>Daily Telegraph</cite>, and some -other <i lang="fr">littérateurs</i>. There was the drive down to the inviting little town, -with a lunch at the old inn, some wanderings about its leafy lanes, and a -return in the evening to the club, where the host gave a banquet, at which -speeches in French and English were delivered. The interesting strangers -took away with them the lasting impression that he was “truly a sympathetic -personage, with a great deal of French grace and <i lang="fr">bonhomie</i> in his -nature.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_42" href="#FNanchor_42" class="label">[42]</a> This also seemed rather unintelligible to the audience; but its secret -was the secret of the creator or originator of the part. Such devices are -really significant of something dramatic that has actually prompted them; -they become an expression. The revived “business,” therefore, will not -serve unless the original spirit attends it. This squeaking snuff-box was a -note of <i lang="fr">diablerie</i>, introduced with strange sudden spasms at unexpected -moments, and corresponded to the twitches and spasms of Macaire’s mind. -For the manager I collected much of old Lemaître’s business, with those -curious chants with which the robber carried off his villainies. Jingle and -Job Trotter were certainly modelled on Macaire and his man; for the -piece was being played as <cite>Pickwick</cite> came out.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_43" href="#FNanchor_43" class="label">[43]</a> We may at least admire this writer’s perseverance and intrepidity, -who from that time has never relaxed his efforts to win the approbation or -secure the attention of the public. One could have wished him better -success with his later venture and most ambitious attempt, the management -of the Avenue Theatre, where he introduced his own piece illustrative of -“modern English Life,” with which his critics—for whom, like the sapper, -nothing is sacred—made merry. He is not likely to be daunted by this, -and I have little doubt he will “arrive” at last.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_44" href="#FNanchor_44" class="label">[44]</a> The quaint name of this club, “the Kerneuzers,” was suggested by a -simple attendant, who actually so described the members; it was his pronunciation -of the word “connoisseurs.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_45" href="#FNanchor_45" class="label">[45]</a> Once, when visiting Stratford-on-Avon with Toole, he saw a rustic -sitting on a fence, whom they submitted to an interrogatory. “That’s -Shakespeare’s house, isn’t it?” it was asked innocently. “Ees.” “Ever -been there?” “Noä.” “How long has he been dead?” “Dunno.” -“What did he do?” “Dunno.” “Did he not write?” “Oh yes, he -did summat.” “What was it?” “Well, I think he writ <cite>Boible</cite>.” A -pleasantry that both the players once contrived in Scotland, at the expense -of an old waiter at a hotel, is of a higher order of merit than such hoaxes -usually offer. At this country inn they had noted that the spoons, forks, -etc., seemed to be of silver, and with some artfully designed emphasis they -questioned the waiter about the property. As soon as he had gone out, they -concealed all the plate, and, having rung the bell, jumped out of the -window, which was close to the ground, and hid themselves in the shrubbery. -The old man re-entered: they heard his cries of rage and -astonishment at the robbery, and at the disappearance of the supposed -thieves. He then rushed from the room to summon the household. The -rest of the story is worth giving in Irving’s words, as reported by Mr. -Hatton.</p> - -<p>“We all crept back to the room, closed the window, drew down the -blind, relighted the gas and our cigars, put each piece of silver back into its -proper place, and sat down to wait for our bill. In a few minutes we -heard evidently the entire household coming pell-mell to the dining-room. -Then our door was flung open; but the crowd, instead of rushing in upon -us, suddenly paused <i lang="fr">en masse</i>, and Sandy exclaimed, ‘Great God! Weel, -weel! Hae I just gane clean daft?’</p> - -<p>“‘Come awa’, drunken foo’, come awa’!’ exclaimed the landlord, pulling -Sandy and the rest back into the passage and shutting the door.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_46" href="#FNanchor_46" class="label">[46]</a> Quite a number of relics of great actors have, as we have already -shown, found their way to Irving’s custody; and there is always something -pleasant for him to think of when he recalls the presentation. Thus on -his visit to Oxford he had spoken of the last days of Edmund Kean, who -had died in sore straits. A few days later he received a purse of faded -green silk found in the pocket of the great actor just after his death, and -found empty. It had been given by Charles Kean to John Forster, and by -him to Robert Browning. Edmund and Charles Kean, Forster, Browning, -and Irving form a remarkable pedigree. “How can I more worthily place -it,” wrote Browning, “than in your hands, if they will do me the honour -to take it, with all respect and regard?”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_47" href="#FNanchor_47" class="label">[47]</a> One of these many “snappers-up of trifles” described the nightgown -worn by Lady Macbeth in her sleep-walking scene, which was all of wool -knitted into a pretty design. Mrs. Comyns Carr designed Miss Terry’s -dresses, which certainly did not lack bold originality. There was the -curious peacock blue and malachite green dress which contrasted with the -locks of copper-coloured hair, from which the half American artist, Mr. -Serjeant, formed a striking but not very pleasing portrait.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_48" href="#FNanchor_48" class="label">[48]</a> It was likely that the majority of these persons were incapacitated by -age from forming a judgment on this matter; but it was curious that I -should have conversed with two persons at least who were capable of -making the comparison. One was Mr. Fladgate of the Garrick Club, a -most interesting man, well stored with anecdotes of Kemble, Kean, and -others, who once, in the library of the club, gave me a vivid delineation -of the good John’s methods in ‘The Stranger.’ The other was Mr. Charles -Villiers, who is, at the moment I write, in about his ninetieth year. A -most characteristic incident was a letter from the veteran Mrs. Keeley, with -much generous criticism of Miss Terry’s performance, thus showing none -of the old narrow spirit which can only “praise bygone days.” She -frankly added that until visiting the Lyceum she had never witnessed a -performance of the play from one end to the other, though she had seen -many a great performer in it, and had herself performed in it. This recalls -Mrs. Pritchard, one of the great Lady Macbeths, who, as Dr. Johnson -said, had never seen the fifth act, as it did not fall within her part.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_49" href="#FNanchor_49" class="label">[49]</a> Charles Reade’s strange, odd appreciation of this gifted, mercurial -woman is worth preserving:</p> - -<p>“Ellen Terry is an enigma. Her eyes are pale, her nose rather long, -her mouth nothing particular, complexion a delicate brick-dust, her hair -rather like tow. Yet, somehow, she is <em>beautiful</em>. Her expression <em>kills</em> any -pretty face you see beside her. Her figure is lean and bony, her hand -masculine in size and form. Yet she is a pattern of fawn-like grace. -Whether in movement or repose, grace <em>pervades the hussy</em>. In character -impulsive, intelligent, weak, hysterical—in short, all that is abominable -and charming in woman. Ellen Terry is a very charming actress. I see -through and through her. Yet she pleases me all the same. <em>Little Duck!</em>”</p> - -<p>This suggests the old rhyme:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Thou hast so many pleasing, teazing ways about thee,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">There’s no living with thee or without thee.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_50" href="#FNanchor_50" class="label">[50]</a> It was interesting to note, at a St. James’s Hall performance, June 25, -the pleasant, eager vivacity of the actress, who, familiar as she was with -the play, seemed to be repeating with her lips all the portions in which she -was not concerned. In the more dramatic portions, it was plain she was -eager to be on the scene once more. As she sat she anxiously waited for -the orchestra to come in at their proper places, sometimes giving them the -signal. This very natural behaviour interested everyone.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_51" href="#FNanchor_51" class="label">[51]</a> Another play was written for him on the subject of ‘Mahomet,’ -which he was inclined to bring out; but here again authority interposed, -and “invited him,” as the French so politely have it, to abandon his -purpose. It was at the end of the summer season of 1879 that our manager, -after naming these pieces, spoke of others which he had in reserve, either -revivals or wholly new ones. It is interesting to think that he had thought -of the stormy and pathetic ‘Gamester,’ which has ever an absorbing attraction; -‘The Stranger’ also was spoken of; but their treatment would have -offered too many points of similarity to Eugene Aram and other characters -of “inspissated gloom.” On this occasion, when speaking of “the -romantic and pathetic story” of Emmett, he announced a drama on the -subject of Rienzi, which his friend Wills had prepared for him, but which -has never yet seen the light. Years have rolled by swiftly since that night, -and the author has often been heard to bewail the delays and impediments -which hindered the production of what he no doubt considered his finest -performance. Another great drama long promised and long due is ‘Coriolanus,’ -for which Mr. Alma Tadema has designed scenery.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_52" href="#FNanchor_52" class="label">[52]</a> An American lady, a Californian artist, was the first to enter the pit -for the opening performance of ‘Henry VIII.’ at the Lyceum. “I and a -friend went with our camp-stools and took our places next the door at ten -o’clock in the morning. We were provided with a volume of <cite>Harper’s -Magazine</cite>, a sketch-book, writing-paper, and a fountain-pen, caricatures of -Henry Irving, and much patience. A newspaper spread under the feet -and a Japanese muff warmer, with sandwiches and a bottle of wine, kept -us comfortable. Two ladies were the next comers, and shortly a crowd -began to collect. Real amusing it was, but not very elegant. After about -two hours Mr. Bram Stoker came and had a look at us, and cheered our -hearts by telling us that tea would be served from the neighbouring saloon -(public-house). At last, at seven o’clock, we were rewarded for our -patience by getting seats in the front row. The play was superb, and the -audience—well, everyone looked as if he had done something.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_53" href="#FNanchor_53" class="label">[53]</a> As an instance of the manager’s happy touch in a trifling matter, -we might name the State trumpets constantly “blaring” and sounding -as the King approached, which offered nothing of the usual “super” -arrangement. The men seemed to tramp along the street as though conscious -of their own dignity, warning those whom it might concern to make -way for their high and puissant lord.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_54" href="#FNanchor_54" class="label">[54]</a> It was publicly stated that the “mounting” of this play had cost -£15,000, and that the weekly expenses were some £800. The manager -wrote to contradict this, as being altogether beyond the truth; though, he -added, with a sigh, as it were, that he heartily wished the second statement -were true, and that the expenses could be put at so low a figure.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_55" href="#FNanchor_55" class="label">[55]</a> According to one writer, “an emissary was sent to Rome to acquire a -Cardinal’s robe. After some time a friend managed to secure one of the -very period, whereupon an exact copy, ‘both of colour and texture,’ was -made. A price has to be paid for scenic splendours in the shape of the -delays that they necessarily occasion. Thanks to the ingenuity of stage-carpenters -and machinists, these delays at the Lyceum are reduced to a -minimum time. ‘Henry VIII.’ being not one of the longest of the plays—though -it is one-third longer than ‘Macbeth’—the text at the Lyceum -has been treated with comparative leniency. ‘Hamlet,’ on the other hand, -which comprises nearly four thousand lines, cannot on the modern system -of sumptuous mounting possibly be given in anything approaching its -entirety.” As a fact, very nearly one-half the play disappears from the -modern acting copies. My friend Mr. W. Pollock, in a paper in the -<cite>National Review</cite>, has justly urged in this connection that half a ‘Hamlet’ -is better than no ‘Hamlet’ at all.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_56" href="#FNanchor_56" class="label">[56]</a> To illustrate his most recent productions, the manager is accustomed -to issue what is called “a souvenir,” an artistic series of pictures of the -scenes, groupings, etc. It may be added, as a proof of the pictorial interest -of the Lyceum productions, that in little more than a week after the first -performance of ‘Becket’ no fewer than five-and-twenty illustrations, some -of great pretension, had appeared in the papers. On the first night of -‘Lear’ a marchioness of artistic tastes was seen making sketches, which -were published in an evening paper.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_57" href="#FNanchor_57" class="label">[57]</a> One touch, which might escape the superficial, showed the fine, delicate -sense of the manager. The scene where Kent is exhibited in the stocks -has always suggested something grotesque and prosaic. It was here so -dignified in its treatment as to become almost pathetic. I may add here -that the deepest strokes of Shakespeare, not being on the surface, are apt -to escape us altogether, save when some inspired critic lays his finger on -them. The faithful Kent at the close is brought to his master’s notice, -who does not recognise him. Here Lamb points out how noble is Kent’s -self-sacrifice in not bringing himself to the King’s recollection.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_58" href="#FNanchor_58" class="label">[58]</a> On March 18, 1893, Irving and his whole company were bidden to -Windsor Castle to play ‘Becket’ before her Majesty. A theatre was fitted -up in the Waterloo Chamber; special scenery was painted; the Lyceum -was closed; and the company, 170 strong, was transported to Windsor -and brought back on the same night. The performance was given with -much effect and to the enjoyment of the Queen. Some three or four years -before, a no less interesting entertainment was arranged at Sandringham -by the Prince of Wales, who was anxious that her Majesty should see the -two favourite performers in their most effective pieces—‘The Bells’ and -the “Trial scene” in ‘The Merchant of Venice,’ The outlay of time, -trouble, and skilful management to provide for all the arrangements within -a short space of time can scarcely be imagined. The pecuniary cost, owing -to the closing of the theatre, transport, etc., was serious.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_59" href="#FNanchor_59" class="label">[59]</a> An Irving “Bibliography” would fill many columns, and would include -a vast quantity of controversial writing—attacks, defences, and discussions. -Besides his official discourses, he has written many agreeable papers in the -leading “monthlies.” I have already spoken of the “skits” and personalities -which followed his early successes, and which he encountered with -excellent temper and a patient shrug. These have long since been forgotten. -At attempts at “taking him off,” though a favourite pastime, he -could afford to smile; though when it was carried beyond legitimate -bounds, as in the instance of the late Mr. Leslie, he interposed with quiet -firmness, and put it down in the interests of the profession. An American -burlesque actor, named Dixie, with execrable taste gave an imitation of -him in his presence. More curious is the unconscious imitation of him -which is gaining in the ranks of the profession, and which has had some -droll results. Thus one Hudson—when playing the Tetrarch in ‘Claudian’ -in the States—was so strangely like him in manner and speech, that it was -assumed by the American audience that he was maliciously “taking him -off.” His own company have caught up most of his “ways” and fashions—notably -Haviland, and even Alexander. At the opening of ‘Vanderdecken,’ -two at least of the performers were mistaken for him—from their -walk—and had a “reception” accordingly.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_60" href="#FNanchor_60" class="label">[60]</a> This “triple bill” is an unmeaning term, for a triple bill means, if -anything, three bills in one, and not, as is supposed, a single bill in three -parts.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_61" href="#FNanchor_61" class="label">[61]</a> In this connection there is a characteristic story told of our actor. He -was driving in a hansom one night to the Lyceum when the ‘Merchant of -Venice’ was running. In a fit of absence of mind he tendered a shilling -for his fare, whereas it should have been eighteenpence or two shillings. -Whereupon the cabby, who had recognised his man, burst out: “If yer -plays the Jew inside that theayter as well as yer does outside, darned if I -won’t spend this bob on coming to see yer.” It is said he was so delighted -with the retort that he promptly gave the man half-a-sovereign.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="ad"> - -<p class="center">BOOKS BY PERCY FITZGERALD.</p> - -<p class="hanging">THE SAVOY OPERA.</p> - -<p class="smaller">With 60 Illustrations and Portraits. Crown 8vo., cloth extra, 3s. 6d.</p> - -<p class="hanging">THE WORLD BEHIND THE SCENES.</p> - -<p class="smaller">Crown 8vo., cloth extra, 3s. 6d.</p> - -<p class="hanging">LITTLE ESSAYS.</p> - -<p class="smaller">SELECTIONS FROM THE LETTERS OF CHARLES LAMB. -Post 8vo., cloth limp, 2s. 6d.</p> - -<p class="hanging">A DAY’S TOUR:</p> - -<p class="smaller">A JOURNEY THROUGH FRANCE AND BELGIUM. With -facsimile Sketches. Crown 4to., picture cover, 1s.</p> - -<p class="hanging">LIFE OF JAMES BOSWELL (OF AUCHINLECK).</p> - -<p class="smaller">With an Account of his Sayings, Doings, and Writings; and Four -Portraits. Two vols., demy 8vo., cloth extra, 24s.</p> - -<p class="hanging">FATAL ZERO:</p> - -<p class="smaller">A NOVEL. Crown 8vo., cloth extra, 3s. 6d.; post 8vo., illustrated -boards, 2s.</p> - -<p class="center smaller">Post 8vo., illustrated boards, 2s. each.</p> - -<p class="hanging">BELLA DONNA.</p> - -<p class="hanging">NEVER FORGOTTEN.</p> - -<p class="hanging">THE SECOND MRS. 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