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SIR HENRY IRVING

PERCY FITZGERALD

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SIR HENRY IRVING

A BIOGRAPHY

PERCY FITZGERALD

AUTHOR OF "THE LIFE OF DAVID CARRICK," "FIFTY YEARS
OF CATHOLIC LIFE," " I.ADV JEAN," ETC.

"As in a theatre the eyes of men,
After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage,
Are idly bent on him that enters next."

PHILADELPHIA
GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO
PUBLISHERS

£3
n

,^ TO

GEORGE ALEXANDER

^u*

77GS0

Preface

THUS early, after the death of the great actor,
I venture to offer this new and revised
account of his very romantic life and work. I have
dwelt more especially on the former, as it is agreed
that herein was found his chief power or attraction.
It is, in fact, the story of his ever engaging cha-
racter and fashions that I have attempted to bring
home before the reader, showing him in his habit
as he lived.

There have been many elaborate accounts of his
acting and managerial career, set off plentifully with
dates of performances, casts of characters, and criti-
cisms. These things have beyond doubt their
value ; but they make heavy and uninteresting
reading. You cannot see the wood for the trees. I
prefer to let the agreeable and original actor pro-
menade it about through these pages according to
his humour. I had the advantage of knowing him
for some thirty years ; and from the first, as will
be seen here, on the most intimate terms with him

viii PREFACE

and his following — hence I can speak with full
knowledge.

The present is practically the third issue of this
life. It was written under Irving's hearty en-
couragement, and all the earlier sheets were revised
and corrected by him. However, later on when I
came to dealing critically with his performances
it became a rather too delicate matter for an
actor's supervision, and I felt that it was better
to give over the submission of the sheets to him
— I am afraid not exactly to his satisfaction.

It has been thoroughly revised — large additions
have been made which cover a period of some
ten years, and bring the work down to his lamented
death.

It will be seen that I have written independently
and freely. Unlike the general crowd of admirers,
and perhaps flatterers, for whom everything in their
hero was '■'■ superbe ! '' ''' niagnifique ! '' "■dernier
crif" &c., I have pointed out all that might seem
faulty or exaggerated to trained and impartial
judges. I have dwelt on what were his real gifts
and merits, as well as on their limits. Praising
indiscriminately is no praise at all.

I may add that particular attention has been
given to the illustrations in this volume. No one
has been so copiously "limned" as this actor. I
myself have filled some twenty huge folios with
such pictures. I may call attention to the fine
portrait which forms the frontispiece, as a truly
artistic and successful rendering" of Irving-'s
thoughtful and expressive features, adapted as it

PREFACE ix

were to the part he was playing. With this the
reader may contrast the one given at the close of
the volume, which shows him with his everyday
countenance and costume, the former worn and
sharpened — aged also — by the wear and tear of
performances.

Contents

CHAPTER I

PAGE

SCHOOL-DAYS — EARLY TASTE FOR THE STAGE — FIRST

APPEARANCE (1838 — 1 856) . . . . I

CHAPTER n

EDINBURGH AND THE SCOTTISH THEATRES (1857 — 1859) . 12

CHAPTER HI

THE ST. James's theatre — 'hunted down' — the new

VAUDEVILLE THEATRE — 'THE TWO ROSES ' (1866) . 33

CHAPTER IV

'THE BELLS' — WILLS'S 'CHARLES I.' (1871) . . 46

CHAPTER V

'hamlet' — 'OTHELLO' — ' MACBETH ' — DEATH OF "THE

COLONEL" — 'QUEEN MARY ' (1874) . . .60

xii CONTENTS

CHAPTER VI

? THE LYCEUM —
SYSTEM AND ASSISTANTS (1878) . , . 81

PAGE

THE NEW MANAGER OF THE LYCEUM — MISS TERRY — HIS

CHAPTER Vn

'THE MERCHANT OF VENICE' (1879)

. 102

CHAPTER VIII

'THE CORSICAN BROTHERS' AND 'THE CUP ' (1880) . 1 13

CHAPTER IX

'OTHELLO' AND 'THE TWO ROSES ' REVIVED (1881) , 125

CHAPTER X

'ROMEO AND JULIET' — THE BANQUET (1882) . . 140

CHAPTER XI

' MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING ' — AMERICAN VISIT ARRANGED

(1882) 147

CHAPTER XII

' TWELFTH NIGHT ' — ' THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD ' —

OXFORD HONOURS (1884) .... l6l

CHAPTER XIII

' FAUST ' ' WERNER ' — ' MACAIRE' — THE ACTOR'S SOCIAL

GIFTS (1887) . . . . . .187

CONTENTS xiii

CHAPTER XIV

PAGE

'MACBETH' — 'THE DEAD HEART' — ' RAVENSWOOD ' (1888) 20I

CHAPTER XV
'king lear' — 'becket' (1892) .... 220

CHAPTER XVI

KING ARTHUR' — CORPORAL BREWSTER — HONOURS (1893) 233

CHAPTER XVII

SOCIAL GIFTS ...... 247

CHAPTER XVIII

SYMPTOMS OF DECAY . . . . -255

CHAPTER XIX

RING DOWN THE CURTAIN ..... 272

CHAPTER XX

CHARACTER AND GENERAL ATTRACTION . , . 285

List of Illustrations

SIR HENRY IRVING . . . .

From a Photograph by H. H. H. Cameron.

irving's birthplace at KEINTON MANDEYILLE
irving's first playbill . . . ,

IRVING ......

From an early Photograph by Chancellor.

IRVING AND

From an early Photograph.

IRVING AS M.ATTHIAS IN 'THE BELLS'

IRVING AS JINGLE

IRVING AS CHARLES I. ...

IRVING AS HAMLET

From Onslow Ford's Statue.

IRVING AS DUBOSC ....

From a Bust by the Author.

IRVING AS VANDERDECKEN

ELLEN TERRY .....

From an early Photograph by Elliott and Fry.

IRVING AS HAMLET

From Edwin Long's Painting.

ELLEN TERRY AS PORTIA

IRVING AS SHYLOCK

Frontispiece

Facing page r

15
23

46
49
56

75
85

103
105

Facing

page

122

•>

127

165

167

))

172

177

»)

188

197

214

226

xvi LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

THE LYCEUM LION .....

RIVAL HAMLETS .....

IRVING AS THE VICAR AND ELLEN TERRY AS OLIVIA

IRVING AS THE VICAR ....

THE REVIVAL OF ' FAUST ' AT THE LYCEUM THEATRE

MEPHISTO, THE ACTOK ....

IRVING AS ROBERT MACAIRE

IRVING IN HIS DRESSING-ROOM AT THE LYCEUM
From a Drawing by Paul Renouard.

IRVING AS CARDINAL WOLSEY

IRVING AS BECKET .....

IRVING READING TENNYSON'S ' HECKET ' IN THE
RESTORED CHAPTER - HOUSE OF CANTERBURY
CATHEDRAL ...... „ 228

IRVING AT HOME ..... „ 24I

'DON QUIXOTE' ...... „ 253

From a Drawing by Phil JIay.

ROBESPIERRE REFLECTING .... „ 265

From a Drawing by Harry Furniss.

THE NERVOUS AND SUSPICIOUS ROBESPIERRE . . „ 267

From a Drawing by Harry Furniss.

IRVING WITH MISS LENA ASHWELL IN 'DANTE' . „ 269

IRVING AS DANTE ..... „ 270

PROGRAMME OF IRVING'S FAREWELL PERFORMANCE . „ 276

IRVING'S ROOM AT THE LYCEUM .... „ 284

" WHAT A KNIGHT WE'RE HAVING ! " . . „ 288

Cartoon by Linley Sambourue.

SIR HENRY IRVING. ..... „ 273

From a late Photograph by Histed.

Irving's Birthplack at Keinton Mandevillk

(The house on the right is where the great actor was born )

Photo by E. 6'. Russell.

To face /.. I .

CHAPTER I

1838-1856

SCHOOL-DAYS EARLY TASTE FOR THE STAGE

FIRST APPEARANCE

HENRY IRVING was born at Keinton,
near Glastonbury, in Somersetshire, on
February 6, 1838. His real name was John Henry
Brodribb. "The last place God made " has been
the description given of this little town — Keinton-
Mandeville. The house in which the future actor
was born is still pointed out — a small two-storied
dwelling — lately " bought in " for ^600.

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 brought up among miners and mining
captains in a district " stern and wild," where
lessons of dogged toil and perseverance were to
be learned. The earliest books he read were his
Bible, some old English ballads, and " Don
Quixote," a character which he had long had a
fancy for performing. In an intimate causerie with
his and my friend Joseph Hatton, he strayed back

2 1

2 SIR HENRY IRVING

to these early days of childhood, when he called up
some strikinor scenes of those old mininor associa-
tions. 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.

Shortly after his birth the father removed to
London, but the wife — a woman of purpose —
resolved to bring up the child in the country.
He was accordingly left to the care of his aunt
Penberthy, married to a strange being, captain of
a Cornish mine near St. Ives. As Irving told
Mr. Hatton, one day the giant uncle was angry.
"He walked," said Sir Henry, "into the kitchen
where we youngsters were, and began to smash
everything he could lay his hands on. He took
up the chairs and broke them across his knee,
and they were pretty strong, too — nothing, how-
ever, to him ; he snapped them as if they had been
the merest sticks. Drawers, tables, he smashed
everything ; then walked out and went back to
the mine. We were all terrified while this was
going on. As for me, I got behind the door or
anywhere else out of his way."

But the tactful aunt healed the sore. She did
not scold. But when the captain returned in the
evening, " he paused at the open doorway of the
kitchen, flung back his chest, and gave forth a
great burst of laughter. You never heard such
a laugh ; it was tremendous. My aunt laughed,
too. What do you think he laughed at.'* The
wreck of the furniture had been got together and

SCHOOL-DAYS 3

displayed by my aunt, as if the whole business was
a huge joke. Broken chairs, table-legs, a cupboard
door, pieces of an old seat, all manner of things
were hung upon the walls, as if they were pictures,
articles of virtu, bric-a-brac. And this was all that
occurred. There was no scene ; only the laughter.
During the next day or two the place was put to
rights, and never for a moment did the affair disturb
the happiness of the household ; she knew how to
live with her husband, and he loved her in his big,
devil-may-care kind of way." ^

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. There were about
a hundred boys, one of whom was called Dickens.
At this academy, on some exhibition day, he pro-
posed to recite a rather gruesome piece called ' The
Uncle,' to which his preceptor strongly objected,
when he substituted the more orthodox ' Defence
of Hamilton Rowan,' by Curran.

More than thirty years later, when the boy had
become famous, and was giving a benefit at his
own theatre to a veteran player — Mr. Creswick —
the latter, coming before the curtain, related to the
audience this little anecdote. " I was once," he
said, " invited to hear some schoolboys recite
speeches previous to their breaking up for the

' Daily News, Oct. i6, 1905. Before his death, the actor
was dictating to Mr. Austin Brereton a long and minute account
of these early, childish days — which has recently been issued.

4 SIR HENRY IRVING

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." 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 regu-
larly told, "Very good — very fair; but you should
have heard Irving do it."

On leaving the school, it was determined that
the future actor should adopt a commercial career,
and he was placed in the offices of Messrs. Thacker,
" Indian Merchants in Newg-ate Street." He was
then about fourteen, and remained in the house four
years.' Mr. Edward Russell, of the old Haymarket,
was with him at Thacker's, and describes his elation

' 87 was the number ; and Messrs. Lyons and Co., who now
occupy the premises, are having a tablet placed on the wall to
commemorate the actor.

EARLY TASTE FOR THE STAGE 5

at the purchase of some stage properties, also the
affection of the worthy old Thacker for his clerk.
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, and even reciting in the street.

At this time, about 1853, the late Mr. Phelps'
intelligent efforts, and the admirable style in which
he presented classical dramas, were exciting interest
and even enthusiasm among young men. I now
look back with pleasure to the pilgrimages to
the far-off Sadler's Wells Theatre, where so intel-
lectual an entertainment was provided and sustained
with admirable taste for many seasons. What was
called " The Elocution Class " was one of the
results. It was directed by a Mr. Henry Thomas
with much intelligence : his svstem 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 recita-
tion, and fairly electrified the audience with an
unusual display of elocutionary and dramatic in-
tensity." This was Henry Irving. By and by
the elocution class was moved to the Sussex

6 SIR HENRY IRVING

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 per-
formed. It was remarked that the young performer
was invariably perfect in his "words." In spite
of his youth he gave great effect to such characters
as Wilford in ' The Iron Chest,' and others of a
melodramatic cast. A still more ambitious effort
was Tobin's ' Honeymoon,' given at the little
Soho Theatre, with full accompaniments of scenery,
dresses, and decoration ; and here the young
aspirant won great applause.

It was to be expected that this success and these
associations should more and more encouragfe him
in his desire of adopting a profession to which he
felt irresistibly drawn. He was, of course, a visitor
to the theatres, and always recalled the extraordi-
nary impression left upon him by Phelps' perform-
ances. In every one'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 would try 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, &c., according to his ideas.
Many years later, in America, he said that when
he was a youth he never went to a theatre

EARLY TASTE FOR THE STAGE 7

except to see a Shakespearian play — in fact, for
instruction.

At Sadler's Wells there was a painstaking actor
called Hoskins, who was attracted by the young
fellow's conscientious spirit, and who agreed to give
him a few lessons in his art. These were fixed for
eight o'clock in the morning, so as not to interfere
with commercial business. Hoskins introduced him
to Phelps, who listened to his efforts with some of
that gnarled impassibility which was characteristic
of him ; then in his blunt, good-natured way, gave
him this advice : " Young man, have nothing to do
with the stage ; it is a bad profession ! "

Such, indeed, is the kindest counsel that could be
given to nine-tenths of the postulants of our time.
Their wish is to "go on the stage" — a different
thincr from becomino- 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 earnest-
ness, he proposed to give him an engagement of a
very trifiing kind, which the young man, after
deliberation, declined, on the ground that it would
not afford him opportunities of thoroughly learning
his profession. The good-natured Hoskins, who
was himself leaving the theatre to go to Australia,
gave him a letter to a manager, with these words :
•* You will go on the stage ; when you want an
engagement present that letter, and you will obtain
one." He, indeed, tried to induce him to join him
on his tours, but the offer was declined.

His mother, however, could not reconcile herself

8 SIR HENRY IRVING

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 beingr 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
havinor 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
youth's purpose when it has been deliberately
adopted.

Having come to this resolution, he applied
earnestly to the task of preparing himself seriously
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
eleganceof movement and bearing.

" The die being now cast," according to the
accepted expression, John Brodribb, now become
Henry Irving, bade adieu to his desk, and bethink-
ing him of the Hoskins letter, applied to Mr.
Davis, a country manager, who had just com-
pleted 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

FIRST APPEARANCE 9

* Richelieu,' and the opening night was fixed for
September 29, 1856. The young actor was cast
for the part of the Duke of Orleans, and had to
speak the opening words of the piece.

Mr. Alfred Davis, a well-known provincial actor,
and son of a northern manager, used often to recall
the circumstances attending Irving's "first appear-
ance 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.
Among the names of the corps dramatique were
those of our old friend, Sam Johnson (now of the
Lyceum) ; Miss Ely Loveday (sister of H. J.
Loveday, the much respected stage-manager of
the Lyceum) ; 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, * Heres to our enterprise ! ' had in
them almost a prophetic tone of aspiration and

* Monday Evening, Sept. 29, 1856.

The Season will commence, with Sir E. L. Bulwer Lytton's

beautiful play,

RICHELIEU.
Louis the Thirteenth ... ... Mr. Courtenay.

Gaston (Duke of Orleans) ... ... Mr. Irving. &c.

After ' Richelieu ' came :

The highly successful New Piece of Oriental Sentimentality
or Sentimental Orientality, extracted from Dreams of the
Arabian Nights, by the indefatigable Visionary Hoo-Zure-
Attar, and which to be appreciated must be seen, as the

10 SIR HENRY IRVING

success. So busy was I in front and behind
the scenes, that I was barely able to reach my
place on the stage in time for the rising of the
curtain. I kept my back to the audience till my
cue to speak was given, all the while buttoning
up, tying, and finishing my dressing generally, so
that scant attention would be given to others. But
even under these circumstances I was compelled to
notice, and with perfect appreciation, the great and
most minute care which had been bestowed by our
aspirant on the completion of his costume. In
those days managers provided the mere dress.
Accessories, or ' properties ' as they were called,
were found by every actor. Henry Irving was,
from his splendid white hat and feathers to the
tips of his shoes, a perfect picture ; and, no doubt,
had borrowed his authority from some historical
picture of the Louis XIII. period."

" The impersonation," as the neophyte related it
long afterwards, " was not a success. I was nervous,
and suffered from stage fright. My second appear-
ance 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

most extravagantly laudatory ecomiums {sic) must fall im-
measurably short of the gigantic merit of

THE ENCHANTED LAKE!
Or the Fisherman and the Genie.
Near the end of the cast occurs the following line :
Cooks ... Messrs. Brunt, Irving, Waite, Broderick, Owen., &c.

FIRST APPEARANCE 11

dispensing- with my services, gave me some strong
and practical advice."

All which is dramatic enough, and gives us a
glimpse of the good old provincial stage life. That
touch of encouragement instead of dismissal, is
significant of the fair, honest system, which then
obtained in this useful training school.

Of this stage fright he did not quite shake him-
self clear for a long time. Once acting in ' A
Winter's Tale,' he entered boldly enough, but all
the words passed from his memory. In despera-
tion he called out, "Come to the market-place and
I well tell you further," and so exit.

CHAPTER II

1857-1859

EDINBURGH AND THE SCOTTISH THEATRES

AT the Sunderland Theatre he remained only
four months, and though the manager pressed
him to stay with him, the young actor felt that here
he had not the opportunities he desired. He accord-
ingly accepted an engagement at the Edinburgh
Theatre, which began on February 9, 1857.

Among the faces that used to be familiar at any
" first night " at the Lyceum were those of Robert
Wyndham and his wife. There is something
romantic in the thought that these guests of the
London manao^er and actor in the heio-ht of his

o o

success and prosperity should have been the early
patrons of the unfriended struggling player. Wynd-
ham 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

EDINBURGH AND SCOTTISH THEATRES 13

practice in a vast round of characters. This experi-
ence, though acquired in a hurried and perfunctory
fashion, is of enormous value in the way of training.
The player is thus introduced to every shade and
form of character, and can practise himself in all the
methods of expression. Now that " stock com-
panies " are abolished, and have given place to the
"travelling ones," the actor has few opportunities of
learning his business, and the 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 extra-
ordinary list, ranging over every sort of minor
character.

He here also enjoyed opportunities of performing
with famous "stars" who came round the provinces,
Miss Helen Faucit, Mrs. Stirling, Vandenhoff,
Charles Dillon, Madame Celeste, " Ben " Webster,
Robson, the facetious Wright, the buoyant Charles
Mathews, his life-long friend Toole, of " incompres-
sible humour," and the American, Miss Cushman.^
This, it is clear, was a period of useful drudgery,
but in it he found his account. The company

' 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."

14 SIR HENRY IRVING

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 agree-
able because it was unpretending and without effort.
It would be difficult to give an idea of the
prodigious labour which this earnest, resolute
young man underwent while struggling to " learn
his profession." The iron discipline of the
theatre favoured his efforts, and its calls on
the exertions of the actor seem, nowadays,
truly extraordinary, though 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 singu-
larly 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 panto-
mime 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," con-
cluding with ' The Wandering Boys,' in which we
again meet 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

NEW R07AL LTCEUIH THEATRE

Llccnaed Partaunt to Aec of Parll ant ewt.

Proprietor & Manager, — IMCaK. EQ. 99. XIi.ilL

Tbe IIr«c<l«B being completed, (tie NICW ROTAI< LYCKVK THMATBB

ron THK BKCBPTIOM OF TBB PCBdC

ON MONDAY EVENING NEXT, SEPT, 29th, 1856.

Br. DAVIS wlahea tlint bl« kinil Prlends and Pairvni kliould IbemaelTes Judge of (he elTorta mnde
for (belr a««innnioda(ioii r»lher than be (ulded by any rooameiita freni bin), he will tbereTore
•aly expro* bla hope* lba( l( will be apparent to all how anKioudy he baa laboured (• redevm
the promla** n^ade aa to tti** liniw of opeoiog.

Architect _ _ » -

Assistant Architect and Baperintendent of Works, - M«^_ <arosi. S

The Decorative Department from the Pencil of nana,- <Jr,^k.is. x.,3Czvm

JExecnted under his direction by Messrs. SAUUOEBS & JOHBSOV.

The Masonry by

The Joiner Work by
The Oas and other Fittings by Mr. DANNATT and Mr. CLASPEB.
The Upholaterv by Messrs. ALCOCK, BR7D0K. HESRING. &o-
The Painting Work by Mr. ABHTSON.

MONDAY EVENING. Sept. 29. 1856

Tbe Season wilUcotnMence with Sir K. Lu BCL'WKM L.TT-rOli-s beaatirtil Play

RICIELI

Ijotus the Thirteenth Mr. COUBTENAY Gaston (Duke of Orleans) Mr IBVINQ

The Sieux de Beringhen (aCcurtiei) Mr. ALFRED DAVIS

Barada8 (Favourite of ihe Kiiigi.. Mr. 0RV:KLL The Chevalier de Maaprat. Mr J O COWPEB

Richelieu, CFirst Time in Sunderland) Mr. DAVIS

Father Joseph Mr. FOOTE Huguet a Spvj Mr. BRUNT FrancoisCa Page MissAGNKS MARKHAM

Pages to Richelieu Misses POULSON and MONTAGUE

Pages to the King Misses MILNER, LEIGH, CARTER

Count de Clermont Mr. GIBSON Captain of Guard Mr. WAITB

Gaoler Mr. BRODERTCK Governor Mr. S. JOHNSON

First Secretary Mr. MASTERS Second Do. Mr. EDOUIN Third Do. Mr. MORELLI

Julia de Mortemar (Richelieu's Word) Mrs. ALFRED DAVIS

Marion de Lorme Miss DE CLIFFORD

To Conoladn w<th Ihr highly successful New Piece of OricntaJ Sent^maataUiy, or Santimental OrleiiukUty, extracted from

Dreamt of the Arabian Nighte, by the indefaUgable VUlonary. HOO-ZURE-ATAR. and which to be appreciated moat be seen,

as the me«i eztraTaguntly laudatory ecoiniunis most fall immeasorably short of the ^gantic merit of

THE ENCHANTED LAKE!

OR THE FISHERMAN AND THE GENIE.

Achmet (Autocrat of Bagdad, of imperial Brfendour and minenous .lisposition) Mr. S. JOHNSON

Mooney Pacha (his much-abused Vizier) Mr. FOOTE AbdalJah (the Black Enchanter) Mr. MASTERS

Hassan (» Fii*^'«n"an. "ho finds out that hoDesty is the Uvt policy^ Mr. .^ LiFRED DAVIS

Monkey (w''" 'hough at (irst, ■• a beast,' ultimately proves himiwlf ' o grntleman ' ) JJr. EDOUIN

nonius of tbeBottle ("*"» has no ooonection -ith the Bottle Imp) Mr. OOURTKNAT

U^niUB oi Qgi^j^ Cook of the Palace) Mr. GIBSON

AzorandAzim riVo Youn^ Princes) Mrs. COURTENAY and Miss CARTER

Co^s Messrs. BRUNT, IRVING. WAITE, BRODERICK, OWEN

Fatima and Zeliea (initrcsiioK young L«dies, Daughters of Achmet) Misses OWEW BBd De OLIFFORD

Oueen of the Pen Miss MILNSR

Peris Misaes T.KTGH, POULSONS. C. BROCK, B. BROCK and F. BROCK. <to.

['iV face piifje I").

EDINBURGH AND SCOTTISH THEATRES 15

serious ones, for the melodramatic and dignified
cliaracters. In 'Nicholas Nickleby' he was the
hero ; and Jack Wind, the boatswain, the chief
mutineer, in ' Robinson Crusoe.' In the course of
this season Toole and Miss Louisa Keeley came
to the theatre, when Irving opened the night as the
Marquis de Cevennes in ' Plot and Passion,' next
appearing in the "laughable farce" (and it is one,
albeit old-fashioned), 'The Loan of a Lover,' in
which he was Amersfort, and finally playing Lee-
ford, " Brownlow's nephew," in 'Oliver Twist.' As
Mr. Wyndham informed me : " During the short
period he was under our management, both Mrs.
Wyndham and myself took a most lively interest in
his promotion, for he was always perfect, and any
character, however small, he might have been called
upon to represent, was in itself a study ; and I be-
lieve 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."

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 use-
ful but obscure position in the playbill. 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," &c.,
will have soon altogether disappeared, simply

16 SIR HENRY IRVING

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.

Of these old Edinburgh days Irving thought
fondly. At the Scottish capital he was later wel-
comed with an affectionate sympathy ; and the
various intellectual societies of the city — Philoso-
phical and others — were always 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 beauti-
ful art, and there he learnt the lesson that they
would all learn, that —

" ' Deep the oak must sink its roots in earth obscure,
That hopes to lift its branches to the sky.' "

In some of his later speeches "of occasion" he
has scattered little autobiographical touches that are
not without interest. On one occasion he recalled
how he was once summoned over to Dublin to
supply the place of another actor at the Queen's
Theatre, then under the direction of two "manager-
twins," the Brothers Webb. The Queen's was but
a small house, conducted on old-fashioned principles,
and had a rather turbulent audience. When the
actor made his appearance he was, to his astonish-
ment, greeted with yells, general anger, and dis-

EDINBURGH AND SCOTTISH THEATRES 17

approbation. This was to be his reception
through nearly the whole engagement, which was
luckily not a long one. He, however, stuck gal-
lantly 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 pro-
fession ; they had that marked individuality of
character now so rarely found on the boards. He
discovered, at last, what his offence was, viz., the
taking the place of a dismissed actor — an uncon-
scious exercise of a form of ' land-grabbing ' — but
his placid good-humour gradually made its way,
and before the close of the engagement he had,
according to the correct theatrical phrase, ' won
golden opinions.'"

At the close of the season — in May, 1859 — the
Edinburgh company set out on its travels, visiting
various Scotch provincial towns. During this
peregrination, when at Dundee, the idea occurred
to him and a brother-player of venturing "a read-
ing " in the neighbouring town of Linlithgow.
This adventure he has himself related in print.
Our actor had an agreeable vein of narrative,
marked by a quiet, rather placid humour, also
found in his occasional speeches. The charm and
secret of this is the absence of affectation or pre-
tence ; a talisman ever certain to win listeners and
readers.

18 SIR HENRY IRVING

" I had been about two years upon the stage, and
was fulfilHng my first engagement at Edinburgh.
Like all young men, I was full of hope. It hap-
pened 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.

" Eight o'clock drew near, and we sallied out to
survey the scene of operations. The crowd had
not yet begun to collect in front of the town-hall,
and the man who had undertaken to be there with
the key was not visible. As it was getting late, we
went in search of the doorkeeper. He was quietly
reposing in the bosom of his family, and to our
remonstrance replied, ' Ou, ay, the reading ! I
forgot all aboot it.' This was not inspiriting.

"The 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
nothinof for it but to beat a retreat. No one came
out even to witness our discomfiture.

"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

EDINBURGH AND SCOTTISH THEATRES 19

produced a large sum of money. My companion in
the Linlithgow expedition was Mr. Edward Saker
— now one of the most popular managers in the
provinces."

In March, 1859, we find our actor at the old
Surrey Theatre, playing under Mr, Shepherd and
Mr. Creswick, for a "grand week," so it was an-
nounced, " of Shakespeare, and first-class pieces ;
supported by Miss Elsworthy and Mr. Creswick,
whose immense success during the past week has
been rapturously endorsed by crowded and enthu-
siastic audiences." " Rapturously endorsed " is good.
In ' Macbeth ' we find Irvinsr fitted with the modest
part of Siward, and this only for the first three
nights in the week. There was an after-piece, in
which he had no part, and ' Money ' was given on
the other nights.

But he had now determined to quit Edinburgh,
lured by the prospect of "a London engagement,"
an ignis fatuus for many an actor, who is too soon
to find out that a London engagement does not
mean exactly a London success. In 1859 he made
his farewell appearance in 'Claude Melnotte,' and
was received in very cordial fashion. As he told
the people of Glasgow many years later, he ever
thought gratefully of the Scotch, as they were the
first who gave him encouragement.

Now a London engraa-ement was offered to him
by 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.'

20 SIR HENRY IRVING

As this meagre employment promised neither im-
provement nor fame, he begged his release. This
he obtained, and courageously quitted London,
determined not to return until he could claim a
respectable and conspicuous position. Thus we
find him, with perhaps a heavy heart, once more
returning to the provinces, just as Mrs. Siddons
had to return to the old 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 com-
munity, which had always been "a note" of his
character, prompted him to give two readings at
the old palace of Crosby Hall. In this he was
encouraged by City friends and old companions,
who had faith in his powers. It was something to
make this exhibition under the roof-tree of that
interesting old pile, not yet "restored"; and the
locale, we may imagine, was in harmony with his
own refined tastes. He read the ' Lady of Lyons '
on December 19, 1859, and the somewhat artificial
' Virginius ' on February i, i860. These perform-
ances were received with favour, and were pro-
nounced by the public critics to show scholarly
feeling and correct taste.

I have before me a curious little criticism of this
performance taken from an old and long defunct
journal that bore the name of The Players, which
will now be read with a curious interest :

"We all know the 'Dramatic Reading.' We
have all — at least, all who have served their
apprenticeship to theatrical amusements — suffered

EDINBURGH AND SCOTTISH THEATRES 21

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 Shake-
speare, with Readings, &c.,' and have again under-
gone the insufferable bore of hearing our dear old
poet murdered by the aspiring genius. Thinking
somewhat as we have above written the other even-
ing, 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 honour-
ably figuring in the columns of our provincial con-
temporaries. Now, we were most agreeably dis-
appointed 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

22 SIR HENRY IRVING

poetic feeling as to elicit a loud burst of approval
from his hearers, as also many other passages
occurring in the play. Mr. Irving was frequently
interrupted by the applause of his numerous and
delighted audience, and at the conclusion was un-
animously called to receive their marks of approval."
It was at this interesting performance that Mr.
Toole, as he tells us, first met his friend.

A very monotonous feature in too many of the
dramatic memoirs is found in the record of dates,
engagements, and performances, which in many
instances are the essence of the whole. They are
uninteresting to any one save perhaps to the hero
himself So in this record we shall summarise 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 re-
mained for some four years, till June, 1865. Here
he met fresh histrionic friends, who "came round"
the circuit in succession — such as Edwin Booth,
Sothern, Charles Mathews, G. V. Brooke, Miss
Heath, and that versatile actor and dramatist and
manager, Dion Boucicault. Here he gradually
gained a position of respect — respect for his unfail-
ing 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 recalled the
novelist ; the sympathetic interest in all about him,
the absence of affectation combined with oreat

Sir Hknry Ikvinc,
I-ru}it a pliotOj;raph taken in the early sixties by Chancellor (•'- Son, Dublin.

To face /> . 'I'A

EDINBURGH AND SCOTTISH THEATRES 23

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
encourag-ement he had received here. And his
language is touching and betokens a sympathetic
heart : —

" I lived here for five years, and wherever I look
— to the right or to the left, to the north or the
south — I always find some remembrance, some
memento of those five years. But there is one
association connected with my life here that pro-
bably 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 six-
pence 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 asso-
ciations 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

24 SIR HENRY IRVING

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 £j<, a
year. Perhaps one would be acting out of the fifty-
two weeks of the year some thirty-five. The other
part of the year one would probably be receiving
nothing. Then an actor would be tempted perhaps
to take a benefit, by which he generally lost ^20 or
;^30. I have a very fond recollection, I have an
affection for your city, for very many reasons. The
training I received here was a severe training ; I
must say at first it was very severe. I found it a
difficult thing to make my way at all with the
audience ; and I believe the audience to a certain
extent was right ; I think there was no reason that
I should make my way with them. I don't think I
had learnt enough ; I think I was too raw, too un-
acceptable. 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."

The man that could trace these faithful records of
provincial stage life, and speak in this natural heart-
felt fashion of memories which many would not
perhaps wish to revive, must have had a courageous
and sympathetic nature.

Many years later, in his prosperity, he came to
Bolton to lay the first stone of a new theatre, on
which occasion other old memories recurred to him.

EDINBURGH AND SCOTTISH THEATRES 25

" 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 Uttle 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 appli-
ance, but what the theatre lacked the audience made
up for, and a more spontaneous, good-natured public
I never played to."

On another occasion he ag^ain indulged in a retro-
spect ; indeed, his eyes seem always to have fondly
turned back to Manchester and these early days of
struggle : " I came all the way from Greenock with
a few shillings in my pocket, and found myself in
the splendid theatre now presided over by our
friend Captain Bainbridge. The autumn dramatic
season of i860 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. 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

26 SIR HENRY IRVING

heavy father was considered by some to be any-
thing 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."

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 strugrorles. That he should record it is
evidence of his frank and unaffected nature. It
is as pathetic as it is characteristic : —

" 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 journa-
lists, and when an amateur performance was orga-
nised 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

EDINBURGH AND SCOTTISH THEATRES 27

become a great actor. Fortunately, Joe was able
to dispose of his stock and goodwill for a few hun-
dreds, 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 him-
self a liberal supply of his wares, and started in his
profession with enough shirts, collars, handkerchiefs,
stockings, and underclothing to equip him for
several years.

" The amateur success of poor Joe was never
repeated on the regular stage. He did not make
an absolute failure ; no manasfer would entrust him,
with parts big enough for him to fail in. But he
drifted down to general utility, and then out of
London, and when I met him he was engaged in a
very small way, on a very small salary, at a
Manchester theatre.

"Christmas came in very bitter weather. Joe
had a part in the Christmas pantomime. He
dressed with other poor actors, and he saw how
thinly some of them were clad when they stripped
before him to put on their stage costumes. For one
poor fellow in especial his heart ached. In the
depth of a very cold winter he was shivering in a
suit of very light summer underclothing, and when-
ever Joe looked at him the warm flannel under-
garments 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

28 SIR HENRY IRVING

the shirts and drawers which Joe had cherished so
long went to the pawnbroker's or the slop-shop to
provide the money for the meal. The guests
assembled promptly, for nobody else is ever so
hungry as a hungry actor. The dinner was to be
served at Joe's lodgings, and before it was placed
on the table Joe beckoned his friend with the gauze
underclothing into a bedroom, and pointing to a
chair, silently withdrew. On that chair hung a suit
of underwear which had been Joe's pride. It was
of a comfortable scarlet colour ; it was thick, warm,
and heavy ; it fitted the poor actor as if it had been
manufactured especially to his measure. He put it
on, and as the flaming flannels encased his limbs he
felt his heart glowing within him with gratitude to
dear Joe Robins.

" That actor never knew — or, if he knew, could
never remember — what he had for dinner on that
Christmas afternoon. He revelled in the luxury of
warm garments. The roast beef was nothing to
him in comparison with the comfort of his under-
vest ; he appreciated the drawers more than the
plum pudding. Proud, happy, warm, and comfort-
able, 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 sun-
shiny smile, 'for I was that poor actor ! ' "

This really simple, most affecting, incident, he
himself used to relate when on his first visit to
America.

EDINBURGH AND SCOTTISH THEATRES 29

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 callinof. Sothern
delighted in such pastimes, and Mr. Toole was
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 origi-
nality. 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 Athenaeum. Assuming the dress charac-
teristics of a patron of the Brothers, one Dr. Fergu-
son, Irving came forward and delivered a grotesque
address, and then, in the usual familiar style, pro-
ceeded to "tie up" his coadjutors in the cabinet,
with the accompaniments of ringing bells, beating
tambourines, &c. The whole was, as a matter of
course, successful. It was not, however, strictly
within the programme of an actor who was " toiling
at his oar," though the vivacity of youth was likely
enough to have prompted it.

On the eve of his departure from Manchester he
determined on an exceedingly ambitious attempt,
and played ' Hamlet ' for his own benefit. The
company good-naturedly favoured his project,
though they fancied it was beyond his strength. It
was, as he used to tell, an extraordinary success,

30 SIR HENRY IRVING

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 little likelihood of his emerofino- from the de-
pressing monotonous round of provincial histrionics.
But rescue was nearer at hand than he fancied.
The stage is stored with surprises, and there, at
least, it is the unexpected that always, or usually,
happens.

Leaving Manchester, he passed to Edinburgh,
Bury, Oxford, and even to Douglas, Isle of Man,
where the assembly-room used to do duty as a
"fit-up" theatre. For six months, from January to
July, 1866, he was at Liverpool with Mr. Alexander
Henderson.

Thus had he seen many men and many theatres
and many audiences, and must have learned many
a rude lesson, besides learning his profession. At
this moment, as he described it long after, he found
himself one day standing on the steps of the
theatre looking hopelessly down the street, and
in a sort of despair, without an engagement, and
no very likely prospect of engagement, not knowing,
indeed, which way to turn, unless some " stroke
of luck " came. But the " actor's luck," as he said,
" is really work;'' and the lucky actor is, above all,
a worker. At this hopeless moment arrived unex-
pectedly a proposal from Dion Boucicault that he
should join him at Manchester and take a leading

EDINBURGH AND SCOTTISH THEATRES 31

character in his new piece. He accepted ; but with
some shrewdness stipulated that should he succeed
to the author's satisfaction, he was to obtain an
engagement in London. This was acceded to, and
with a light heart he set off.

Mr. Boucicault, indeed, long after in America
boasted that it was his good fortune to "discover
Irving" in 1866, when he was playing in "the
country." The first 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 debut in
London as a leading actor." He added some
judicious criticism, distinguishing Irving as "an
eccentric serious actor " from Jefferson, who was
"an eccentric comic actor." " His mannerisms are
so very marked that an audience requires a long
familiarity with his style before it can appreciate
many merits that are undeniable. It is unquestion-
able that he is the greatest actor as a tragedian that
London has seen during the last fifty years." ^

' 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

32 SIR HENRY IRVING

In this piece, * Mary Leigh and her Three Lives'
(which later became 'Hunted Down'), the heroine
was performed by Miss Kate Terry, at that time
the only member of a gifted family who had made
a reputation. Irving's character was Rawdon
Scudamore, a polished villain, to which he imparted
such force and finesse, that it impressed all who
witnessed it with the belief that here was an actor
of striking power. It at once gave him " a position,"
and an impression of his gifts was of a sudden left
upon the profession, upon those even who had not
seen him. No fewer than three offers of engage-
ment 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.

Chambers about Irving." All which, as I know from the best
authority, is somewhat imaginative. The engagement was
entirely owing to Boucicault.

Ikving and ANiiTHi;ri.
/■ tout an early photw^rapli.

To face p :;:<.

CHAPTER III

1866
THE ST. James's theatre — ' hunted down ' — the

NEW vaudeville THEATRE 'THE TWO ROSES '

THE directress of the new venture at the St.
James's Theatre was Miss Herbert, a grace-
ful, sympathetic person of much beauty, with
exquisite golden hair and almost devotional features,
which supplied many of the Pre-Raphaelite brethren
with angelic faces for their canvases. On the stage
her efforts were directed by great sympathy and
spirit, and she was now about to essay the diffi-
culties 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 way-
ward public ; with pieces by Reade, Tom Taylor,
and Boucicault. This pleasing actress was destined
to have a chequered course of struggle and adven-
ture, a mingled yarn of success and disappointment,
and has long since retired from the stage.

At the St. James's Theatre the company was
formed of the manageress herself ; of Walter Lacy,

4 33

34 SIR HENRY IRVING

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 inex-
pressible satisfaction, in a respected and respectable
position, one very different from that of the actor-
of-all-work in the provinces. Not the least com-
forting reflection was that he had won his way to
this station by remarkable talent and conscientious
labour. The theatre opened on October 6, 1866.
' Hunted Down ' was the piece originally fixed
upon, but it could not be got ready in time, so a
change was made to the lively old comedy of the
' Belle's Stratagem,' the name which it had been
originally proposed to give to Oliver Goldsmith's
' She Stoops to Conquer.'

The actor tells us of this interesting occasion :
" I was cast for Doricourt, a part which I had never
played before, and which I thought did not suit
me ; I felt that this was the opinion of the audience
soon after the play began. The house appeared to
be indifferent, and I believed that failure was con-
clusively 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."' This compliment was

* Related in one of his conversations with Mr. Joseph Hatton.
I have heard 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.

THE ST. JAMES'S THEATRE 35

nearly always paid to our actor when he performed
this part.

In the criticisms of the piece the efforts of the
interesting manageress-actress, of course, received
the chief attention. Dramatic criticism, however,
at this time was of a somewhat slender kind, and
the elaborate study of an individual performer's
merits was not then in fashion. The play itself
was then "the thing," and accordingly we find the
new actor's exertions dealt with in a curt but en-
couraging 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 AthenmMin. And Mr.
Oxenford, with his usual reserve, after pronouncing
that the comedy was "a compound of English
dulness and Italian pantomime," added that Dori-
court " 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.

It was at one of the Irving suppers, and most amusing was it to
find the veteran struggling to claim his share in the success. " I
noticed the poor young fellow — he was all astray — ' Pardon me,
Mr. Irving,' I said, ' if you will allow me to show you. Here,
bring down a sofa to the front.' " But none of the old school
could sincerely have approved of Irving's methods. I even once
heard the good old Howe, who was ever loud in praise of his
generosity — " He was a Prince " — give him this unconscious
stroke. I was speaking of the excessive decoration in the
Shakespeare plays, " My dear sir, if you take all that away,
what have we left ? "

36 SIR HENRY IRVING

The piece continued in the actor's repertoire,
after being compressed into a few scenes. The
rich, old-fashioned dress and powder suited the per-
former and set off his intelligent features, which
wore a smiling expression, as though consciously-
enjoying the comedy flavour of the piece.

A little later, on November 5th, ' Hunted Down '
was brought forward, in which the actor, as Rawdon
Scudamore, made a deep impression. It was de-
clared that the part " completely served the purpose
of displaying the talent of Mr. Henry Irving, whose
ability in depicting the most vindictive feelings,
merely by dint of facial expression, is very remark-
able." 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.^ 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. Among the spectators were
George Henry Lewes and George Eliot, when the
former is said to have exclaimed, '* In twenty years
he will be at the head of the English stage ! " on
which his companion, " He is there already." I
myself heard Dickens speak with enthusiasm of the
same performance, saying it was most remarkable.
I heard, too, that he was much delighted with the
actor's Mr. Chenevix in ' Uncle Dick's Darling,'

' I may be allowed to refer those who would learn the impor-
tance of this agent of " facial expression " to a little treatise of my
own, *' The Art of Acting " — a lecture at the Royal Institution,
where it is fully discussed.

'HUNTED DOWN' 37

which was a suggestion of his own Mr. Dombey.
It was not noted at the time that Digby Grant in
the ' Two Roses ' with some of the plot was boldly
transferred from the same story. Mr. Disraeli was
said to have once humorously remarked, " I think
he might be mistaken for 7ne I " Many were
the compliments paid him on this creation ; and
friends of Charles Dickens know how much struck
he was with the new actor's impersonation. The
novelist was always eager to recognise new talent
of this kind. Some years later, "Charles Dickens
the younger," as he was then called, related at a
banquet how his celebrated father had once gone
to see the ' Lancashire Lass,' and on his return
home had said : " But there was a young fellow in
the play who sits at the table and is bullied by Sam
Emery ; his name is Henry Irving, and if that
young man does not one day come out as a great
actor, I know nothing of art." A worthy descendant
of the Kembles, Mrs. Sartoris, also heartily appre-
ciated his powers. ^ During the season a round of

' Of this night, my friend Mr. Arthur A'Beckett has recently
recalled some memories : " All the dramatic critics were
assembled. John Oxenford — kindest of men and ripest of
scholars — for the Times, E. L. Blanchard for the Dat'/y Telegraph,
John HoUingshead (still amongst us), the predecessor of my good
friend Moy Thomas of the Daily News, Leicester Buckingham
for the Morning Star, Desmond Ryan (I think) for the Standard,
Heraud for the Illustrated London News, Tomlins or Richard
Lee for the Advertiser, and Joseph Knight (again one of our
veterans) for the Sunday Times. 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

ji'-;'';''G30

38 SIR HENRY IRVING

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 con-
ventional 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. I

Miss Herbert's venture, like so many other
ventures planned on 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

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."

^ 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, with 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 enthu-
siastically, "he is the one ; a perfect gentleman ! Every morning
he comes in to buy his newspaper, and he do speak so nicely. I
do think he is a charming young man," &c.

THE QUEEN'S THEATRE 39

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 Theatre
des Italiens, and in December, 1867, found an
ensfaorement at the Queen's Theatre in Lon^ Acre,
a sort of "converted " concert-room, where nothing
seemed to thrive.

Mr. Labouchere, who has really supplied one of
the best accounts of Irvino;, describes the Queen's
Theatre in his own pleasant, satirical way. " In
the sixties I was the owner of a London theatre ;
sometimes I let it, and sometimes I produced plays
there. Irving was my stage manager, and all the
time he was with me, an exceptionally good
one." 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 occasion-
ally); 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 his Dubosc, would have added to
his reputation. We find him 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.'

It was in 1869, when he was playing at the
Queen's Theatre in Long Acre, that he was married

40 SIR HENRY IRVING

to Florence, the daughter of an Army surgeon,
Surgeon-General Daniel James O'Callaghan of the
Indian Army. This importantly-sounding officer
is not likely to have approved the alliance with
a "play-actor," neither could the actor's friends
have thought it a prudent step in his struggling
condition. Indeed, it does not seem to have been
a very successful alliance, as a separation, on the
ground, I believe, of unsuitability of disposition,
took place a little later. They only met again,
I believe, in Westminster Abbey, when Lady
Irvinof walked behind the bier. Two clever sons
were born ; the eldest, with much of the father's
originality and fervent style, is more than likely
to take a high place in his profession ; the other,
Laurence, full of an impetuous energy and ardour —
witness his violent denunciatory speech in Robes-
pierre's impeachment. The eldest is married to
the fair ' Trilby ' — Dorothea Baird ; the other to
a clever actress. Miss Mabel Hackney, who had
been his father's "leading lady" in his latter days.
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

'UNCLE DICK'S DARLING' 41

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 per-
formance 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 oi genre,
who had the power of creating a character. The
impression made was really remarkable, and this
specimen of good, pure comedy was set off by
the pathetic acting of " friend Toole," who played
Uncle Dick. This was a turning-point in his
career, and no doubt led to an important advance.
But these days of uncertainty were now to close.
I can recall my own experience of the curious
pleasure and satisfaction left by the performance
of this unfamiliar actor, who suggested so much
more than the rather meagre character itself con-
veyed. I found myself drawn to see it several
times, and still the feeling was always that of
some secret undeveloped power in the clever,
yet unpretending, performer.^

' Irving could tell a story in the pleasantest "high comedy"
manner, and without laying emphasis on points. In being enter-

42 SIR HENRY IRVING

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, 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 altera-
tion converted it into a theat -e. The three managers
were anxiously looking for a piece of modern
manners which would exhibit to advantage their
several gifts. A young fellow named Albery, who
had left his desk for playwriting, had brought them

tained by the " Savages," he 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

♦THE TWO ROSES' 43

a sort of comedy which was in a very crude state,
but which, it seemed Hkely, 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 broug-ht in aid of

requested to make myself at home. ' Do you intend me to
spend the night here?' I said to the inspector. 'Certainly,' he
said ; ' that is the idea.' So I asked him to oblige me with a
pencil and a piece of paper, which he reluctantly gave me. I
addressed a few words to Sir Thomas Henry, who was then
presiding magistrate at Bow Street, and with whom I had an
intimacy, in an unofficial capacity. The inspector looked at me.
'Do you know Sir Thomas Henry?' he said. 'Yes,' I said, 'I
have that honour.' The officer suddenly turned round to the
policeman and said, ' What do you mean by bringing such a
charge against this gentleman ? ' Then he turned fiercely on the
cabman, and nearly kicked him out of the office. I returned
home triumphantly in the cab. I cannot give a young ' Savage '
first starting on his career a sounder piece of advice than this —
' Always know your own mind, and also a magistrate.' " Practised
litterateurs might well envy the pleasant facility and point with
which this was told.

44 SIR HENRY IRVING

each other. The little house opened on April i6,
1870, with a piece of Mr. Halliday's ; and it was
not until a few weeks later that the comedy was
brought forward — on June 4th. The success was
instantaneous.

The unctuous Honey, in his own line an excellent
original actor, raised in the good old school of the
"low comedian," which has now disappeared, was
the good-natured Bagman — a part taken later by
James, who was also excellent. Thorne was efficient,
and sufficiently reserved, in the rather unmeaning
blind Caleb Decie ; while Montague was the gallant
and interesting hero. Jack Wyatt. The two girls
were represented in pleasing fashion by Miss Amy
Fawcitt and Miss Newton. The piece, as I have
said, owed much to the actors, though these again
owed much to the piece. It is difficult to adjust
the balance of obligation in such cases ; but good
actors can make nothing of a bad play, whereas
a good play may make good actors. Irving, as
Digby Grant, was the chief attraction, and his
extraordinarily finished and varied playing of that
insincere and selfish being excited general admira-
tion.

It has not been noticed, in these days of appro-
priation, 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 TWO ROSES' 45

the legitimate method, it has always seemed to me,
of making a play ; whereas the average dramatist
adopts a reverse practice of finding a story, and then
finding characters for it. Character itself is a story.
The character of Digby Grant was the first that
gave him firm hold of public favour. It belongs to
pure comedy — a fidgety, selfish being, self-deluded
by the practice of social hypocrisies, querulous,
scheming, wheedling. It is curious that a very
good actor, who later filled the part, took the
villainy azi s^rieux, giving the complaint, " You
annoy me very much ! " repeated so often, as a
genuine reproach, and with anger. Irving's was
the true view — a simulated vexation, " You annoy
me very much ! " The audience sees that he is no^
"annoyed very much."

After our actor's visit to America, his performance
was noticed to be more elaborate and laboured —
overdone in fact — it had lost some of its spon-
taneousness — 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.^

' The good-looking Montague, following the invariable develop-
ment, seceded from the management and set up a theatre for
himself. This not proving successful, he went to America, where
he died early.

CHAPTER IV

1871

* THE bells' WILLS'S 'CHARLES l'

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 piece of juvenile
courtship, called ' The Young Couple.' The elder
later won favour by her powerful and intense acting
in ' Leah ' ; and he was now about taking a theatre
with a view of bringing forward his second daughter,
Isabel. It seems curious now to think that the
handsome, elegantly-designed Lyceum Theatre,
built by an accomplished architect on the most
approved principles, was then lying derelict, as it
were, and at the service of any stray entrepreneur.
It could be had on very cheap terms, for at this
time the revival of theatrical interest had not yet

Irving as "Matthias" in ''Thk Bells.
Photo by the London Stereoscopic Co.

To face p 4ti.

'THE BELLS' 47

come ; the theatre, not yet in high fashion, was
conducted on rather rude and coarse Hnes. 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 open-
ing, and as constantly closing. Burlesques of the
Gaiety pattern were coming into favour. In this
state of things the shrewd American saw an oppor-
tunity. He had an excellent coadjutor in his wife,
a clever, hard-working lady, with characteristics
that often suggested the good-natured Mrs.
Crummies, 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 enofagfement to Irvino".

"At a public function my father," said Miss Bate-
man, "heard him recite 'The Dream of Eugene
Aram,' and returned home in a perfect frenzy of
admiration. ' I have found the greatest English
actor of this age,' he cried, and he backed his
opinion by taking the Lyceum Theatre. My father
had an unconquerable habit of relying on his own
judgment. As you know, Irving in those days had
plenty of detractors, and it was quite amusing to see
the effect these had on Mr. Bateman. He looked
as though he would annihilate any one who dared
to whisper a doubt of Irving's genius. I remember
seeing a man pinned by him against a wall while he
blazed out, ' You look as if you didn't admire him,'

48 SIR HENRY IRVING

in a tone that was sufficient to make an unfortunate
critic tremble in his shoes."

It is difficult to conceive what a dilapidated sort
of place the Lyceum was in the poor old " Colonel's "
day. No one had the awe or respect for it that it
later was to gain ; it was in a ruined state, asso-
ciated with all kinds of " scratch " exhibitions and
performances. It was not, however, until Irving
had taken over the lease and made arrang-ements
with Mr. Arnold, the landlord, that anything was
done to put it in good order. It was to cost
him enormous sums in the way of enlarging and
patching up. He eventually contrived to make
it one of the most stately theatres in London.
The arrangements were elegant, and he re-
tained the vast green curtain — a true dramatic
element.

The new venture started on September ii, 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. ^ The object was to introduce the
manager's daughter 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

* 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.

Irving as "Jingle."
Plicto by the London Stereoscopic Co.

7'ofiice fy. -19.

'THE BELLS' 49

away from the shadow of the great portico of the
Lyceum.

The prospect for the American manager was not
encouraeinof. He had made a serious mistake at
starting. In a few weeks he had replaced it by a
version of " Pickwick," with a view of utiHsing 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 adapta-
tion was conceived in too farcical a spirit. It has
always seemed to me that " the Immortal Pick-
wick " should be treated as comedy rather than
farce, and would be more effective on the stage
were the Jingle scenes set forth with due serious-
ness and sincerity. The incidents at the Rochester
Ball, for instance, belong to pure comedy, and
would be highly effective. Some years later Irving
put the work into the not very skilful hands of
Albery, who reduced it to the proportions of a
farce with some pathetic elements. It was called
' Jingle.'

At this time there was "hanging loose on" the
theatres, as Dr. Johnson once phrased it, one

50 SIR HENRY IRVING

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 was shown to the new
actor. This, as is well known, was by the gifted
pair Erckmann-Chatrian, whose realistic but
picturesque stories, that call up before us the old
" Elsass " life, show extraordinary dramatic power.
This ' Juif Polonais ' is more a succession of tableaux
than a formal play, but, like ' L'Ami Fritz ' of the
same writers, it has a charm that is irresistible. It
is forgotten that a version of this piece had already
been brought before the public at one of the minor
theatres, which was the work of Mr. F. C. Burnand,
at that time a busy caterer for the theatres, chiefly
of melodramas, such as the * Turn of the Tide ' and
* Deadman's Point.'

" Much against the wish of my friends," says our
actor, " I took an engagement at the Lyceum, then
under the management of Mr. Bateman. I had
successfully acted in many plays besides ' The Two
Roses,' which ran three hundred nights. It was
thought by everybody interested in such matters
that I ought to identify myself with what they called
' character parts ' ; though what that phrase means,
by the way, I never could exactly understand, for I
have a prejudice in the belief that every part should
be a character. I always wanted to play in the
higher drama. Even in my boyhood my desire
had been in that direction. When at the Vaudeville
Theatre, I recited the poem of ' Eugene Aram,'
simply to get an idea as to whether I could impress

'THE BELLS' 51

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. Bate-
man eno-ao-ed me he told me he would g^ive 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
IIL' 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." ^

Our actor, 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, 187 1. 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 power-
ful piece that had been produced, and of the more
extraordinary triumph of the new actor. Every

^ "He knew 'The Bells,'" said the manager's daughter, "and
when Irving showed him Leopold Lewis's translation he put it
in rehearsal at once. This, of all the pieces, was the financial
success ; but the rest were mostly artistic successes, of which my
people were very proud. They always had a romantic love of art
for its own sake. How we all lived through those days I don't
know. Every night Irving supped with us, and then on far into
the night went excitedly planning and arranging and mapping out
all the details of the play in prospect. In everything he was
encouraged by my people, and his mind, worn with long work in
the provinces, grew brisk and alert, and all his ambitions revived.
His Hamlet was a revelation."

52 SIR HENRY IRVING

one, according to the well-worn phrase, seemed to
be " electrified." The story was novel, and likely
to excite the profoundest interest.

An extraordinary alteration, due, I believe, to the
manager, was the introduction of the vision of the
Jew in his sledge, a device unmeaning and illogical.
In the original the morbid remorse of the guilty
man is roused by the visit of a travelling Jew, which
very naturally excites his perturbed spirit. But this
vision discounts, as it were, and enfeebles the second
vision. The piece would have been presented
under far more favourable conditions had it been
prepared by or adapted by some one of more skill
and delicacy.

The success was really owing to the contrasts to
the existing methods of performance, and to the
impassioned hysterical, almost frantic style in which
Irving played it. It was truly a grand tour de force,
but taken as a display of dramatic character, it was
forced and unreal and did not represent the situa-
tions. Years later it was played by Coquelin —
according to the truer and more correct methods
of interpretation. He represented a sober, crafty
bourgeois, who did not "give himself away" so
easily, and with great gain to the dramatic interest
of the piece. Of course staunch Irvingites laughed
him to scorn and could only admit the home article.
But the French actor's reading was convincing,
however one might admire Irving's wonderful
display.

For over twenty years and more this remarkable
impersonation kept its hold upon audiences, and

WILLS'S 'CHARLES I.' 53

whenever revived for an occasional performance
or for a longer " run," it never failed to draw full
houses. It was his introduction to the American
audiences.

The new actor was now becoming a " personality."
Every one of note discovered that he was interest-
ing in many ways, and was eager to know such a
man. The accomplished Sir E. Bulwer Lytton
wrote that his performance was " too admirable not
to be appreciated by every competent judge of art,"
and added, " that any author would be fortunate who
obtained his assistance in some character that was
worthy of his powers." A little later the actor took
this hint, and was glad to do full justice to several
pieces of this brilliant and gifted writer.

At this time there was a clever young man "on
town " who had furnished Mr. Vezin with a fine and
effective play, ' The Man o' Airlie,' from a German
original. He was a poet of much grace, his lines
were musical, and suited for theatrical delivery ; he
had been successful as a novelist, and was, more-
over, 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 posi-
tion, but the attractions of the stao-e were too strono;
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

54 SIR HENRY IRVING

was carried away by his ardour into a neglect of the
canons of the stage, writing masses of poetry of
inordinate length, which he brought to his friends
at the theatre, until they at last began to despair.
Many changes had to be made before the poem
could be brought into satisfactory shape ; and, by
aid of the tact and experience of the manager and
his actor, the final act was at last completed to the
satisfaction of all.^

' 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 melo-
dious 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.

Many years ago now we followed the once
popular Wills to his grave in the Brompton
Cemetery. His somewhat erratic and, I fear,

' Originally the piece opened with the second act. The
manager was said to have exclaimed : " Oh, bother politics ! give
us sof?ie domestic business." This led to the introduction of the
tranquil, pastoral scene at Hampton Court. The closing scene,
as devised by the author, represented the capture of the king on
the field of battle. "Won't do," said the "Colonel" bluntly;
" must wind up with another domestic act." Sorely perplexed by
this requirement, which they yet 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.

WILLS'S 'CHARLES I.' 55

troubled course closed in the month of December,
1 89 1. There was a curious suggestion, or remi-
niscence, 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 imagina-
tion 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 protesta-
tions and engagements which he could not help
forofettinof within an hour. But these were amiable
weaknesses. He was careless about his interests ;
and there was a story current that on being bidden
to the Palace to paint one of the Princesses, he sent
an excuse that he had an engagement. I remember
my " tempestuous " friend, John Forster, loudly ex-
pressing his approbation. But he had a thoroughly
good heart, was as sensitive as a woman, or as some
women, affectionate and generous. His life, I fear,
was to the close one of troubles and anxiety. He
certainly did much for the Lyceum, and was our
actor's favourite author. ' Charles L,' ' Eugene
Aram,' 'Olivia,' ' lolanthe,' 'Faust,' 'The Vicar
of Wakefield,' ' Vanderdecken ' (in part), ' Don
Quixote ' — these were his contributions.

56 SIR HENRY IRVING

'Charles I.' 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 pre-
sented a spectacle of calm and dignified suffering,
that disdained to resent or protest ; some of his
pathetic passages, such as the gentle rebuke to the
faithless Huntley and the parting with his children,
have always made the handkerchiefs busy.

The leading actor was well supported by Miss
Isabel Bateman in the character of the Queen, to
which she imparted a good deal of pathetic feeling
and much grace. For many years she was destined
to figure in all the pieces in which he played. This,
it need not be said, was of advantage for the
development of her powers. Even a mediocre
performer cannot withstand the inspiration that
comes of such companionship ; while constant
playing with a really good actor has often made a
good actress. But the manager, who had some
odd, native notions of his own, as to delicacy and
the refinements generally, must have rather incon-
venienced or disturbed — to say the least of it — our
actor, by giving him as a coadjutor, in the part of
Cromwell, an effective low-comedy actor of genre,
in the person of Mr, George Belmore, who did his
work with a conscientious earnestness. By and
by 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

Irving as "Charles I "
Photo by the London Stereoscopic Co.

To face p. 56

WILLS'S 'CHARLES I.' 57

light, rattling touch-and-go farce, such as 'A Regular
Fix.' Both these actors, excellent in their line,
lacked the weight and dignified associations neces-
sary for the high school of tragedy. ^

One of those vehement and amusinof 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 " con-
sideration " of a marriage between himself and
one of the King's daughters ! This ludicrous
view, based on some loose gossip, was, reasonably
enough, thought to degrade Cromwell's character,
and the point was debated with much fierceness.
But somehow it answered dramatically.^

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 gene-
rally known that the author himself dramatised his
story. This was produced on April 19, 1873, but
the tone seemed to be too lugubrious, the actor

^ I recall the manager's complacent anticipation of the success
of his coup. "Clayton," he said, "was a clever, spirited fellow,
and would assuredly make a hit in the part." He certainly played
respectably, and made up by earnestness what he lacked in other
points. He was particularly proud of his own " make-up." But
his inharmonious voice was against him, and it was impossible to
"take him " seriously.

=^ " The Colonel," however, artfully encouraged the two factions,
and was said to have sent persons into the gallery to shout for
Cromwell and Charles.

58 SIR HENRY IRVING

passing from one mournful soliloquy to another.
There was but little action. The ordinary versions
are more effective. But the actor himself produced
a deep, poetical impression.

The manager, now in the height of success,
adopted a style of " bold advertisement," that
suggested Elliston's amusing exaggerations. ^ The
piece ran for over one hundred and fifty nights, to
May 17, 1873, and during a portion of the time the
versatile player would finish the night with ' Jeremy
Diddler.'

The new season of 1873 began on September 27,
with Lord Lytton's ' Richelieu.' It is a tribute to
the prowess of that gifted man that his three
pieces — the ever- fresh and fair ' Lady of Lyons,'
' Money,' and ' Richelieu ' — should be really the
only genuine stock-pieces of the modern stage.
They never seem out of fashion, and are always
welcomed. It used to be said, indeed, that there
was hardly a night on which the ' Lady of Lyons '

I ((

Lyceum— Charles /., Air. Henry Irving. The profound
admiration that has been manifested by all classes (for the
past four months) in this noble poetic play, and the unqualified
approval bestowed by the most illustrious auditors upon Mr.
Henry Irving's great creation of the martyr-king, have marked
a new era in public taste. The manager is proud to be able
to announce that the immense audiences nightly assembled
render any change in the performances impossible. — Miss Isabel
Bateman, in her tender and exquisitely pathetic portraiture
of Queen Henrietta Maria.— J/r. George Belmore, in his vigorous
and masterly assumption of Oliver Cromwell." Thus the modern
Elliston. It was said that the whole outlay on this modest
revival did not exceed ^100 : a startling contrast to the eight or
ten thousand pounds later to be expended.

WILLS'S 'CHARLES I.' 59

was not somewhere acted. In ' Richelieu ' the actor
presented a truly picturesque figure — he was aged,
tottering, nervous, but rallying to full vigour when
the occasion called. The well-known scene, where
he invokes "the curse of Rome," produced extraor-
dinary 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," with too much pitilessness,
began to attract attention. In this part, as in the
first attempt in * Macbeth,' there was noted a lack
of restraint, something hysterical at times, when
control seemed to be set aside. The truth is, most
of his attempts at this period were naturally experi-
mentSy and very different from those deliberate,
long-prepared, and well-matured representations he
offered under the responsibility of serious manage-
ment.

This piece w'as succeeded by an original play,
' Philip,' by an agreeable writer who had made a
name as a novelist, Mr. Hamilton Aide — a dramatic
story of the average pattern, and founded on
jealousy. It was produced on February 7, and
enjoyed a fair share of success.

CHAPTER V

1874

* HAMLET ' ' OTHELLO ' ' MACBETH ' DEATH OF

"THE colonel" 'QUEEN MARY '

BUT now was to be made a serious experiment,
on which much was to depend. Hitherto
Irving had not travelled out of the regions of
conventional drama, or of what might be called
romantic melodrama ; but he was now to lay hands
on the ark, and attempt the most difficult and
arduous of Shakesperian characters, Hamlet. Every
actor has a dream of performing the character, and
fills up his disengaged moments with speculations
as to the interpretation. The vitality of this
wonderful play is such that it nearly always is a
novelty for the audience, because the character is
fitfully changeful, and offers innumerable modes of
interpretation.

The momentous trial was made on October 31,
1874. It had long and studiously been prepared
for : and the actor, in his solitary walks during the
days of his provincial servitude, had worked out a
formal conception of the character. There was

'HAMLET' 61

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 ' Phedre ' 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.

This whirlwind, though much praised at the time,
might make the judicious grieve. There was no
warrant for it in the text — no reason for taking
possession of the chair or throne. The King,
moreover, had betrayed himself to his court, so
there was no need of such wild jubilation — which
was opposed to Hamlet's patient and deliberate
methods of vengeance. His utmost display should
be sardonic triumph. It further "broke up" the
whole scene.

Our actor judiciously took account of all criti-
cisms, and with later performances subdued or
toned down what was extravag'ant. 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

62 SIR HENRY IRVING

character may be said to have remained the same
as it was on that night.

The play was mounted with the favourite
economy of the manager, and contrasted with the
unsparing lavishness of decoration which charac-
terised 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.^
He has now passed away, after long service, to
"that bourne," &c. Miss Bateman was interesting,
and Mrs. Pauncefort, who remained long 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 per-
formances, looked for with an intellectual curiosity.

In March the hundredth night of ' Hamlet '
was celebrated by a banquet, given in the saloon
of the Lyceum Theatre, at which all the critics
and literary persons connected with the stage were

' I have seen in an old criticism a notice of a leading per-
former who in similar fashion " condescended " — so it was
phrased — to the part of the Ghost, and whose impersonation
was declared to be " more than usually gentlemanlike and
reputable.'^ It were well, however, that the old system of slow
charnel-house tones was now given up. There is no reason why
this sort of chautit should be adopted.

Sir Henkv Ikxint, as " Hamlet."
From the Statue in the Guildlwll. by E. Onflow Ford, R.A.

o face p. 62.

' HAMLET ' 63

present. This method of festivity became familiar
enough, owing to the never-flagging hospitahty of
the later manager of the Lyceum, and offered a
striking contrast to the older days, when it was
intimated that " chicken and champagne " was a
ready method of propitiating a critic. Mr.
Pigott, who had recently been appointed the
Licenser of Plays, a man of many friends, from
his amiability, 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 illus-
tration 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 him-
self. 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
was perhaps the only other then surviving who
could have supplied reminiscences of the kind.
Since then what a number of Hamlets have we not
seen ! Forbes Robertson, Martin Harvey, our actor's
son — H. B, Irving — and the divine Sarah herself.

64 SIR HENRY IRVING

A second Shakespearian piece was now deter-
mined on, and on February 14, 1875, 'Othello'
was brought out. This, it was admitted, was not
a very effective performance. It was hysterical,
and in his agitation the actor exhibited movements
almost panther-like, with many strange and novel
notes. At some bursts there was even indecorous
and disrespectful laughter. The ascetic face, too,
was not in harmony with the dusky lineaments of
"the Moor." Here, again, his notion of the
character was immature.

But in the full tide of all this prosperity, theatre-
goers were startled to learn that the shrewd and
capable manager, the energetic " old Colonel," was
dead. This event occurred, with great suddenness,
on Monday, March 22, 1875. On the Sunday he
had been at a banquet at a Pall Mall restaurant in
company with his leading actor and other friends,
but on the next day, complaining of a headache, he
lay down. His daughter went as usual to the theatre,
to which word was soon brought that he had passed
away peacefully. It was thought advisable to let
the performance be completed, and the strange
coincidence was noted that while his child was
bewailing the loss of her theatrical sire, the old
Polonius, she was unconscious of the blow which
had deprived her of her real parent.

There was much speculation as to what arrange-
ment 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

' OTHELLO '— ' MACBETH ' 65

was ready to support her, and though bound
by his engagement, he would, had he been so
inclined, have found it easy to dissolve it, or make
it impracticable. He resolved to lend his best
efforts to support the undertaking, in which his
views would, of course, prevail. It was hardly
a prudent arrangement, as the result proved, for
the three years that followed were scarcely advan-
tageous 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 " some-
what 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 begfan 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. But Irving was, in truth, in a false position.
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.

' Macbeth ' was speedily got ready, and produced

66 SIR HENRY IRVING

on September i8, 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 par-
ticular 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 en-
thusiastic 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 midday, expatiating on the folly of the public :
" Call Imn an actor ! " Some of them had played
with Macready, "and they should think they knew
pretty well what acting was ! " This resentful tone
has been evoked again and again with every new
actor. ^

Objection was taken to the uncertainty in the

' Old Gibber thus grumbled at Garrick's rise, and other
quidnuncs at Kemble's ; and when Edmund Kean came, there
was the old prompter, who, when asked his opinion if he were
not equal to Kemble, said : " Very clever young man indeed,
very clever ; but Lord bless you, sir, Mr. Kemble was a different
thitig altogether y

'MACBETH' 67

touches; the figure did not "stand out" so much
as it ought. Much of this, however, was owing
to the lack of effect in the Lady Macbeth, who,
assuming hoarse and "charnel-house" tones,
seemed to suggest something of Meg Merrilies.
On the later revival, however, his interpretation
became bold, firm, and consistent. The play had,
however, a good deal of attraction, and was played
for some eighty nights.

The King in Tennyson's play-poem, * Queen
Mary,' I have always thought one of the best,
most picturesque, of Irving's impersonations, from
the perfect realisation it offered of the characters,
impressions, feelings of the historic figure he repre-
sented : it was complete in every point of view.
As regards its length, it might be considered
trifling ; but it became important because of the
largeness of the place it fitted. Profound was the
impression made by the actor's Philip — not by what
he had to say, which was little, or by what he had
to do, which was less, or by the dress or " make-
up," which was remarkable. He seemed to speak
by the expression of his figure and glances ; and
apart from the meaning of his spoken words, there
was another meaning beyond — viz., the character,
the almost diseased solitude, the heartless indif-
ference, and other odious historical characteristics
of the Prince, with which it was plain the actor had
filled himself. Mr. Whistler's grim, antique portrait
conveys this perfectly.

His extraordinary success was now to rouse the
jealousy, and even malignity, which followed his

68 SIR HENRY IRVING

course in his earlier days, and was not unaccom-
panied with coarse ridicule and caricature, directed
against the actor's legs even. " Do you know,"
said a personage of Whistlerian principles — " do
you know, it seems to me there is a great deal of
pathos in Irving's legs, particularly in the left leg ! "
A letter had appeared, in January, 1876, in Ftin,
the Punch of the middle and lower class, addressed
to "The Fashionable Tragedian." It affected
alarm at the report that, " so soon as the present
failure can with dignity be withdrawn," he intended
to startle the public and Shakespearian scholars
with a new tragedy. In the name of that humanity
" to which, in spite of your transcendent abilities,
you cannot help belonging," he was entreated to
forbear, if only for the sake of order and morality.
" With the hireling fashion of the press at your
command, you have induced the vulgar and un-
thinking 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 ex-
pected, 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. But the satire
led to police-court proceedings before Sir R.
Garden, the modern Sir Peter Laurie, who sagely

HOMAGE FROM "T. C. D." 69

remarked, " No one ever shed a tear who saw
Toole " ; on which Irving tranquilly, " I am sorry
to hear you say that." The paper was withdrawn
with due apologies.

When the theatre closed in 1876, the indefatigable
manageress organised 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 organisation ;
though with so certain an attraction the tour, like a

good piece, might be said to " play itself," on the
principle of ma fernme et cinq potip^es. 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, with
special [train, and a company perhaps a hundred
strong, and supported by almost as much lavishness
and magnificence as is expected in the Metropolis.
After the piece came the pleasant little supper at
the comfortable lodgings.

On this occasion he was to receive the first of
those intellectual compliments which have since
been paid him by most of the leading Universities.
At Dublin he excited much enthusiasm among the
professors and students of Trinity College. He

70 SIR HENRY IRVING

was invited to receive an address from both Fellows
and students, which was presented by Lord Ash-
bourne, later Lord Chancellor of Ireland, then a
Queen's Counsel. This was conceived in the most
flattering and complimentary terms. The University
was never slack in honouring him, and later gave
him the degree of Doctor of Letters.

About this time there arrived in England the
Italian actor Salvini, of great reputation in his own
country. He presented himself at Drury Lane, then
a great, dilapidated " Dom-Daniel," stored with
ancient scenery, wardrobes, and nearly always asso-
ciated with disaster. In its chilling area, and under
these depressing conditions, he exhibited a very
original and powerful 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 meaner 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
manoeuvre was to industriously spread reports that
he was stung by so unworthy a 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

CARICATURES 71

would be undignified to seek to justify himself for
offences that he had not committed. Every one
knows that during a long course of years no foreign
actor had visited the Lyceum without experiencing,
not merely the lavish hospitality of its manager, but
a series of thoughtful kindnesses and services.

Indeed, as the actor day by day rose in public
estimation, the flood of caricatures, skits, &c,, 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.^ 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." 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 the subject of it could not have been
offended by it, owing to some just compliments
which seemed to be, as it were, extorted by the
actor's merit.

The new Lyceum season opened with yet one
more play of Shakespeare's — ' Richard III.' As
might have been expected, he put aside the old,

' I have a vast collection of these things, filling some
twenty great folio volumes — an extraordinary tribute to the
actor's success.

72 SIR HENRY IRVING

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 happily-selected piece was to follow, the old
melodrama of 'The Courier of Lyons,' which was
brought out on May 1 9, i ^JJ, under a new title, ' The
Lyons Mail ' — the title was furnished by my friend
Walter Pollock, who always contended that the old
one was a mistranslation, " courier " really signifying
a mail-baor. 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 had 3. penchant for portraying characters of
common life under exciting and trying circum-
stances. This play is an admirable specimen of
French workmanship. The characters are marked,
distinct, amusing ; every passage seems to add

' 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 charac-
teristics 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 him 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.

Ikving as " Duuosc."
l-'iom a bust by the A uthor.

To face p. Ti.

LYONS MAIL— LOUIS XL 73

strength to the interest, and with every scene the
interest seems to grow.

In pieces of this kind, where one actor plays
two characters, a nice question of dramatic pro-
priety 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 recoofnised even under diso-uise, are rather
mental and intellectual, and depend on peculiar
expression — a glance from the eye, smiles, &c.
Irving, it must be said, contrived just so much
likeness in the two characters as suited the situa-
tions 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 affec-
tionate to his family, and so blameless in life.
Many will recall the pleasant, smiling, wondering
fashion in which he would listen to the charges
made against him.

A yet bolder experiment was now to be made,
— another piece in which Charles Kean made a
reputation, ' Louis XL,' 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.

74 SIR HENRY IRVING

This marvellous performance ripened and im-
proved year by year, gaining in suggestion, fulness
of detail, and perfect ease. In no other part was he
so completely the character. There was a pleasant
good-humour — a chuckling cunning — an air of in-
difference, as though it were not worth while to be
angry or excited about things. His figure was a
picture, and his face, wonderfully transformed ; yet
it seemed to owe scarcely anything to the "making-
up." Nowhere else did he speak so much with his
expressive features. You could see the cunning
thousfht rising to the surface before the words.
There was the hypocritical air of candour or frank-
ness suddenly assumed, to conceal some villainous
device. There was the genuine enjoyment of hypo-
crisy, and the curious shambling walk. How
admirably graduated, too, the progress of decay
and mortal sickness, with the resistance to their
encroachments. This, with the portrait of his
Richard — not the old-established, roaring, stamping
Richard of the stage, but the weightier, more
composed and refined — dwells long in the memory,
especially such touches as his wary watchings, the
looking from one to the other while they talk, as if
cunningly striving to probe their thoughts ; and the
curious scraping of his cheek with the finger, the
strange senile tones, the sudden sharp ferocity
betokening the ingrained wickedness, and the
special leer, as though the old fox were in high
good humour.*

' Irving always recalled with pleasure any spontaneous and
unaffected tributes which his acting has called forth. A most

Irving as " Vandkkdecken.'
Ftom a bust by the Author.

To face p. 75.

VANDERDECKEN 75

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 exacdy
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

flattering one is associated with 'Louis XL' — 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 authors said, "why we wrote and compiled this
book. A critic had said that, as nothing was really known of
the character, manners, &c., of Louis XL, an actor might take
what liberties he pleased with the subject. We prepared this
little volume to put on record a refutation of the statement, a
protest against it, and a tribute to your impersonation of the
character." Another admirer printed his various thoughts
on Charles L This was set off with beautifully-executed
etchings, tailpieces, &c., and the whole richly bound and
enshrined in a casket. The names of these enthusiasts are
not given.

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."

76 SIR HENRY IRVING

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 situa-
tions, notably the strange and original suggestion of
the Dutchman's being cast up on the shore and
restored to life by the waves.

I recall all the pleasant incidents of this venture,
the journeys to Liverpool and Birmingham to con-
sult 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,
as to " Boz," apply forcibly the melodious lines —

" A merrier man,
Within the limits of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour withal,
His eye begets occasion for his wit,
Which his fair tongue, conceit's expositor,
Turns to a mirth-moving jest."

' 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, "in-
spissated gloom," but there was abundant praise for
the picturesque figure of the actor. Nothing could
be more effective than his first appearance, when he
was revealed standing in a shadowy way beside the
sailors, who had been unconscious of his presence.
This was his own subtle sugrorestion. A fatal
blemish was the unveiling of the picture, on the

PARTNERSHIP DISSOLVED 77

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, how-
ever, never lost faith in the subject, 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
was confident of producing a deep impression.

At this time our actor's position was a singular
one. It had occurred to many that there was
something strange and abnormal in the spectacle
of the most conspicuous performer of his time, the
one who " drew " most money of all his con-
temporaries, 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 too 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 thus no longer, and
that the time had arrived for making some serious
change. The balancing of obligations is always

78 SIR HENRY IRVING

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 litde-known actor in return
brings fortune to the manager.

The situation was, in fact, a false one. Where
was he to find an opening for those sumptuous
plans and artistic developments for which the public
was now ripe, and which he felt that he, and he
alone, could supply.? The breach, however, was
only the occasion of the separation which must
inevitably have come later. It seems that 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, suffi-
cient to assist or inspire his own. As this arrange-
ment was declined, he felt compelled to dissolve the
old partnership.

It presendy 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 pro-
pitious. Except the litde 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

MRS. BATEMAN 79

temperament and abilities was fitted to restore the
drama, and present it worthily, in accordance with
the growing luxurious instinct of the time.

It was a rude shock for the manageress when
this resolution was communicated to her. The loss
of her actor also involved the loss of her theatre.
She might have expostulated, with Shylock :

" You take my house, when you do take the prop
That doth sustain my house."

It followed, therefore, almost as a matter of course,
that the theatre, without any exertion on his part,
would, as it were, drop into his hands. He at once
prepared to carry out his venture on the bold and
sumptuous lines which have since made his repu-
tation. 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.^ With much gallantry and energy she

^ 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 IIL,'
for the first time in London from the original text. Mrs. Bateman's
lease has been transferred to Mr. Henry Irving, to whose attrac-
tion as an artist the prosperity of the theatre is entirely attribut-
able, and she confidently hopes that under his care it may attain

80 S'lR HENRY IRVING

set herself to do battle with fortune in a new and
lower sphere. She secured the old theatre Sadler's
Wells, 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 Shakes-
pearian characters, taking us through the great
characters seriatim. It was, indeed, a very astonish-
ing 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."

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."

CHAPTER VI

1878

THE NEW MANAGER OF THE LYCEUM MISS TERRY

HIS SYSTEM AND ASSISTANTS

THE Lyceum was designed by a true architect
at a time when a great theatre was considered
to be a building or monument, like a public gallery
or museum. In these days little is thought of but
the salle or interior, designed to hold vast audiences
in galleries or shelves, after the pattern of a dissent-
ing chapel. The Lyceum was really a fine structure,
with entrances in four different streets, an imposing
portico, abundance of saloons, halls, chambers, and
other dependances, which are necessary in all good
theatres. There was a special grace in its lobby
and saloon, and in the flowing lines of the interior,
thoupfh it suffered somewhat from unavoidable
alterations.^ The stage was a truly noble one, and
offered the attraction of supplying a dignity and
theatrical illusion to the figures or scenes that were

^ It was built in 1830, so it was then over sixty-five years of age.
The lease, held from Lord Exeter, had not many years to run —
some twenty or so, I believe. It is now a music-hall.

7 81

82 SIR HENRY IRVING

exhibited upon it ; thus contrasting with the rather
mean and prosaic air which the low and contracted
stag^es of most modern houses offer. This dig-nified
effect is secured at a heavy cost to the manager, for
every extra foot multipHes the area of scenery to a
costly degree, and it 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^ — of which Irving was ever boundless in
praise — since destroyed by fire.

It may be imagined that the financial portion
of the transaction could have offered little diffi-
culty. A man of such reputation inspires confi-
dence ; 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." Shortly after Irving's death this statement
was recklessly repeated, and drew from Mr. Burdett
Coutts a spirited and categorical statement that
Irving had never received a shilling from this great
lady. The truth was that Irving entirely relied on
his own talent and resources. According to a state-

^ He was described by a friend as " always just arrived by the
mail in time to see the fish removed, or as going off by the early
coach after the last dance at four in the morning." He wrote his
own epitaph —

" Here lies Samuel Beazely,
Who lived hard and died easily."

THE NEW MANAGER OF THE LYCEUM 83

ment 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 repayment was made out of the gains of
his provincial tour.

The new manager's first effort was to gather
round him an efficient and attractive company. He
was to make a brilliant coup, which settled and
assured the future of the enterprise. It became
presently known that Miss Ellen Terry was to be
his partner and supporter on the stage, and it was
instandy, and almost electrically, felt that triumph
had been already secured. People could see in
advance, in their mind's eye, the gifted pair per-
forming 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 anticipa-
tion of coming enjoyment.

The new actress, a member of a gifted family, was
endowed with one of those magnetically sympathetic
natures, the rarest and most precious quality a per-
former can have. It may be said to be ''twice
blessed," blessing both him that gives and him that
takes — actor and audience. She had a winning face,
strangely expressive, even to her tip-tilted nose, "the
Terry nose," and piquant, irregular chin ; with a
nervous, sinuous figure, and a voice charged with

84 SIR HENRY IRVING

melodious, heart-searching accents. She indeed
merely transferred to the stage that curious air of
fitful efijoitement which distinguished her among
her friends, which often thus supplied to her
performances much that was unfamiliar to the rest of
the audience. She had, in short, a most marked
personality. ^

' I possess a rare and possibly unique bill of one of Miss Ellen
Terry's earliest child-performances, which it may be interesting to
insert here :

LECTURE HALL, CROYDON.

FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY !

Tuesday Evening, March 13/A, i860.
MISS KATE TERRY

AND

MISS ELLEN TERRY,

The original representatives of Ariel, Cordelia, Arthur, Puck, &c.
(which characters were acted by them upwards of one hundred
consecutive nights, and also before her Most Gracious Majesty
the Queen), at the Royal Princess's Theatre, when under the
management of Mr. Charles Kean, will present their new and
successful

ILLUSTRATIVE AND MUSICAL

DRAWING-ROOM ENTERTAINMENT,

In Two Parts, entitled,

♦DISTANT RELATIONS,' and 'HOME FOR THE

HOLIDAYS,'

In which they will sustain several

CHARACTERS IN FULL COSTUME.

N.B. — This entertainment was produced at the Royal Colos-
seum, and represented by the Misses Kate and Ellen Terry thirty
consecutive nights to upwards of 30,000 persons —

and so on.

El.I.KN TlUiUV.

From an early photograph by lilliott &■ Fry.

To face p. 85.

MISS TERRY 85

In her rather fitful course, Ellen Terry ^ had gone
on the stage, left it, and had gone on it again. Her
performance at the Prince of Wales's Theatre, the
little home of comedy, in the piece of ' Masks and
Faces,' had left a deep impression, and I well recall
the sort of passionate intensity she put into the part.
It must be said that there was some uncertainty as
to how she was likely to acquit herself in the very
important round of characters now destined for her ;

' 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 con-
nected with the Edinburgh stage ; her three sisters, her brother,
her two children, have all found their way to the " boards." Even
the precocious child performer, Minnie Terry, is different from
other prodigy children, and imparts a distinction to what is usually
a disagreeable sort of exhibition. I take from the pages of The
Theatre the following minute account of Miss Terry's career : —
"Miss Ellen Terry was born at Coventry on February 27, 1848.
Her first appearance on the stage was made at the Princess's
Theatre, under the management of Mr. Charles Kean, on April
28, 1856. On October 15 of the same year she appeared as
Puck in the revival of ' A Midsummer Night's Dream.' In Mr,
Kean's production of 'King John,' on October 18, 1858, she
acted the part of Arthur. She next appeared at the Royalty and
Haymarket Theatres, and at the latter house she played in 'Much
Ado About Nothing.' In March, 1863, she acted Gertrude in
' The Little Treasure,' at the Haymarket. She then acted at the
Queen's Theatre in Long Acre, where, on October 24, 1867, she
sustained the character of Rose de Beaurepaire in ' The Double
Marriage,' also in ' Still Waters Run Deep ' ; and, on December
26 of the same year, she acted for the first time with Mr. Henry
Irving, playing Katherine to his Petruchio in ' The Taming of
the Shrew.' Miss Terry then retired from the stage for some
years, reappearing on February 28, 1874, at the Queen's Theatre,
as Philippa Chester in 'The Wandering Heir.' On April 18 of

86 SIR HENRY IRVING

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 per-
formance 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 possess-
ing " distinction " and original power. A series of

the same year she acted Susan Merton in ' It's Never Too Late
to Mend,' at Astley's Theatre, a performance which the Daily
Neivs 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 Prin-
cess's Theatre, for one night only, as Pauline in ' The Lady of
Lyons.' Li 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
Button Cook, one of the most painstaking and accurate of men.
Two rival houses in Coventry at this moment claim to be her
birthplace. A greengrocer, at No. 5, Market Street, displays a
plate or placard, announcing that she was born in his house :
while a haberdasher, at No. 26, over the way, protests that " This
house is the original birthplace of Miss Ellen Terry, and no other.
Observe the name, Terry House." Two other householders
make the same claim. But an "old nurse" declares for No. 5.

HIS SYSTEM AND ASSISTANTS 87

such performances at the Court Theatre, under
Mr. Hare's management, had added to her reputa-
tion.

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.^ He did
not forget some of his old comrades in the early
days of struggle, such as Sam Johnson. 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 was really hors ligne in
this walk, being quick of resource, firm, even

' Time moves so quickly on that many will have forgotten
that the popular writer Pinero, whose dramatic works are now in
such demand, was at this time an obscure, painstaking actor, and
one of the first to take service in Irving's corps. By and by he
brought the manager some slight pieces, such as ' Daisy's Escape,'
to serve as levers de rideau. These were neatly written and full
of spirit. He thus practised his pen, and, as the stage was of
large size, had to aim at broad, bold effects, a treatment which
has been of material service in his more formal pieces. To his
efforts as an actor we can scarcely extend the admiration we have
for his writings ; and his performance of Sir Peter Teazle at the
Haymarket was a strange, wonderful thing.

88 SIR HENRY IRVING

despotic where need required it, and eke genial
and forbearing too. The wonderful and ambitious
development at the Lyceum has drawn on all his
resources, equipping him with an experience which
few stage-managers have opportunities of acquiring.
When, as during the performance of ' Henry VIII.,'
a crowd of over five hundred persons passed 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
has not known the sagacious and ever-obliging
Hurst, who controlled the box-office for many
a year! This proper selection of officials is all-
important in an enterprise of this kind. Where
they are well chosen, they help to bind the public
to the house. It is well known that the manager
was well skilled in reading the book of human cha-
racter, and rarely made a mistake in choosing
his followers. On their side, they have always
shown much devotion to the interests of their chief
The two first — Bram Stoker and Loveday — were
with him in service for nigh thirty years, and both
were close at hand on the fateful night of his death.
Not the least important of these assistants was
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.

HIS SYSTEM AND ASSISTANTS 89

and statues. Monumental constructions of all
kinds are contrived, the details, carvings, &c., being
modelled or wrought in papier-mdch^ 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 at-
mosphere, 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. ^ I remember being

' Amiable and forbearing as Irving always showed himself
to his subordinates, he could be resolute in seeing that what
he wished or wanted was carried out. Schemes of scenery found
available on trial were again and again condemned because they
failed to bring about the effect desired. This, however, was 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 have left to the professors,
he had much to say and alter. It might strike him as not being
suited to the situation. Fresh experiments would have to be
made, to be also set aside, to the despair of the composer. Then
the difficile manager would be heard to attempt, vocally, some
rude outline of what he desired, and this suggestion the ready
musician would grasp and put into shape, and it would be agreed
nem. con. that somehow this last attempt suited the situation
exactly. This sense of perfect propriety in om?iibus was a " note "
of the manager's character.

90 SIR HENRY IRVING

with him when he was reviewing a Httle model
scene and being struck by the gracious and amiable
fashion in which he made his objections, which,
however, involved a complete reconstruction.

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. It had the
breadth and effect of rich water-colour drawings
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 was 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 a play and
adds to its dignity, and may be contrasted with the
meagre music ordinarily provided in theatres.

Once, travelling in the North, the manager met
at a hotel a young musician, who, like himself, " was
on tour," with some concert party it might be, and
fell into conversation with him on their respective
professions. This young man chatted freely, and
imparted his ideas on music in general, and on
theatre music in particular. The manager was
pleased with the freshness and practical character
of these views, and both went their way. Long

HIS SYSTEM AND ASSISTANTS 91

after, when thinking of a successor to Stopel —
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 distinc-
tion. His fine, picturesque overtures and incidental
music to 'The Merchant of Venice,' and other
Lyceum pieces, still linger in the memory. In
due time this connection was severed. The
manager later applied for aid to such composers
as Sir Arthur Sullivan, Sir A. Mackenzie, Sir
Julius Benedict, Sir Charles Stanford, Jacobi, and
Mr. German.

Anticipating a little, I may say here that the
Lyceum company, though not affecting to contain
any brilliant " stars," from the beginning exhibited
a true homosfeneousness in sound, conscientious
actors who have always "discharged " their charac-
ters 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 introduction
of Mrs. Stirling, an actress of the first rank, in such
a part as the Nurse, however welcome as a per-
formance, 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 had been with him almost from
the beginning, the manager had thoroughly leavened

92 SIR HENRY IRVING

with his own methods and his own spirit, thus secur-
ing a general harmony. Such useful auxiliaries
include Johnson (a low comedian of the older
school), Tyars, Archer (another low comedian),
Haviland (a most useful performer, who improved
with every year), and Andrews. Another service-
able player was Wenman, who seemed in physique
and method to be exactly suited to Burchell in
* Olivia.' During past seasons, however, this
worthy man has been removed from the company
by death. On a stranger these players might pro-
duce little effect ; but the habitues of the theatre
have grown familiar with their ways and faces and
figures, and would miss them much were they
absent from a new play.

In addition to this permanent body, the manager
was accustomed occasionally to call to his aid per-
formers of mark, such as Terriss and Forbes
Robertson, the former an admirable actor in special
characters suited to his robustness, though his
powers would have gained by some refining.
Forbes Robertson is a picturesque performer
of many resources, who can supply colour and
passion at need. 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,
now Mrs. Cyril Maude, who took Miss Terry's
place in case of indisposition or fatigue.

HIS SYSTEM AND ASSISTANTS 93

The new manager made some decorative altera-
tions in the theatre which, considering the Httle
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 rearranged, 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 decora-
tions, pursued over a term of a dozen years.

On Monday, December ;^o, 1878, the theatre was
opened with the revived ' Hamlet.' This was the
first of those glittering nights — or premieres — which
were to become a feature of the London season.
From the brilliancy of the audience — which usually
included all that was notable in the arts and profes-
sions — as well as from the rich dresses, jewels, and
flowers, which suggested the old opera nights, the
spectacle became one of extraordinary interest, and
invitations were eagerly sought. Here were seen
the regular habitu^s^ who from the first were
always invited ; for the constancy of the manager to
his old friends was well known.

94 SIR HENRY IRVING

The play was given with new scenery, dresses,
music, &c. The aim was to cast over the whole
a poetical and dreamy glamour, which was exhibited
conspicuously in the treatment of the opening
scenes when the Ghost appeared. There were the
mysterious battlements seen at a distance, shadowy
walls, and the cold blue of breaking day. There
were fine halls, with arches and thick pillars of
Norman pattern. Irving's version of the part was
in the main the same as before, but it was noted
that he had moderated it, as it were ; it became
more thoughtful.

Of course, much interest and speculation was
excited by the new actress, who exhibited all her
charming grace and winsomeness, with a tender
piteousness, when the occasion called. "Why," she
told an interviewer, " I am so high strung on a first
night, that if I realised there was an audience in
front staring at me, I should fly off and be down at
Winchelsea in two twos ! " On this momentous
night of trial she thought she had completely failed,
and without waitinor for the fifth act she flungr herself
into the arms of a friend, repeating, " I have failed,
I have failed ! " She drove up and down the
Embankment half a dozen times before she found
courage to go home.

This successful inauguration of his venture was to
bear fruit in a long series of important pieces, each
produced with all the advantages that unsparing
labour, good taste, study, and expense could supply.
Who could have dreamed — or did he dream on that
night .-* — that no fewer than nine of Shakespeare's

Irvisg as ■' Hamlf.t."
Front the painting by Edicin Long, A.R.A.
(By kind permission of Mr. Burdett-Coutts.)

To/,ii.ep. 94.

HIS SYSTEM AND ASSISTANTS 95

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 un-
consciously learnt much from this accomplished man.

On this occasion, adopting a custom since always
adhered to, the manager had his arrangement of the
play printed, with an introduction by a good Shake-
spearian student, who was destined to be a well-
known figure in the entourage of the Lyceum. This
was "Frank Marshall," with his excited, bustling
ways, and eccentric exterior. He was always bon
enfant. He had written one very pleasing comedy,
' False Shame,' and was also rated as a high autho-
rity on all Shakespearian matters. He published
an elaborate " Study of Hamlet," and later induced
Irving to join him in an ambitious edition of Shake-
speare, which took some years to complete. 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 litterateur.

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
in this respect. At the opening of Irving's manage-
ment there was certainly a tendency to wholesale
and lavish panegyric. Not unnaturally, too, for all
were grateful to one who was making" such exertion

06 SIR HENRY IRVING

to restore the stage to elegance. Some of the ordi-
nary newspapers, however, overwhelmed him with
their rather tedious, indiscriminate praises ; it seemed
as though too much could not be said. There is no
praise where everything is praised ; nor is such very
acceptable to its object. A really candid discussion
on the interpretation of a character, with reasonable
objections duly made, and argued out with respect,
and suggestions put forward — this becomes of real
profit to the performer. Thus in one single short
criticism on a character of Garrick's — he was once
playing a gentleman disguised as a valet — Johnson
furnished not only Garrick, but all players too, with
an invaluable principle which is the foundation of
all acting : " No, sir ; he does not let the gentleman
break out through the footman."

A new play at the Lyceum was rarely concluded
without a speech being insisted upon. Irving him-
self favoured this practice, but reluctantly, yielding
only to the irresistible pressure of ardent and clam-
orous admirers. The system now obtains at every
theatre where there is an " actor-manager." But
there can be no question but that it is an abuse, and
a perilous one. It encourages a familiarity, and often
insolence, which shakes authority. The manager,
when he makes his speech, seems to invite the
galleries down on to his stage, and it is to be noticed
that the denizens of these places are growing bolder,
and fancy, not unreasonably, that they are entitled
to have their speech, as the manager has his. ^ It

' Once, at Edinburgh, during a performance of ' The Merchant
of Venice,' the students of the University had been very

'LADY OF LYONS' 97

also impairs the mystic feeling which always
attached to the figure of the actor.

The manager was 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 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 elocution-
ary 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 presented 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 mused over them they fell into
their place — the figures moved ; a happy suitable

tumultuous, and scarcely a word was heard of the first scenes.
Suddenly the drop-scene descended, and the actor appeared.
There was silence ; then, 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.

98 SIR HENRY IRVING

background suggests itself, with new and striking
arrangements ; and thus the whole order and tone
of the piece furnishes him with inspiration.

Indeed, it must be confessed that there are few
plays we should be less inclined to part with than
this hackneyed and well-worn drama. The " casual
sight " of that familiar title on the red-brick corner
wall in some country or manufacturing town — it may
be weeks old, the old paper flapping flag-like —
always touches a welcome note, and the names of
the 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 com-
pounded 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 weak
spot in Melnotte's character — the unworthy decep-
tion, which involves loss of respect. Pauline, how-
ever, is a most charming character, from the mixture
of emotions ; if played, that is, in a tender, impulsive
way, and not made a vehicle for elocutionary
display. The gracious, engaging part of the heroine
has been essayed by our most graceful actresses,
after being created by the once irresistible Miss
Helen Faucit. For over six 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

"THE WALRUS" 99

is all but certain that he could deliver the passage
ending, ''Dost like the picture?'' — a burst often
smiled at, but never failing to tell. Every one of
the characters is good and actable, and, though vi^e
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. In
Irving's Claude there was a sincerity and earnest-
ness which went far to neutralise these highly
artificial, not to say " high-fiown," passages which
have so often excited merriment. Miss Terry, as
may be conceived, was perfectly suited in her
character — the ever-charming Pauline ; and dis-
played an abundance of spontaneousness, sympathy,
and tenderness.^

The public was at this time to learn with interest
that the actor was to accompany Lady Burdett-
Coutts, with whom he was in high favour, on a
voyage to the Mediterranean in her yacht The
Walrus, and all was speculation as to the party and
their movements. But this party of pleasure was to
be fruitful of some romantic results, for a young
American found favour in the eyes of his hostess —
who shortly after married him. Unassisted by this
alliance, Mr. Bartlett — now Mr. Burdett-Coutts,
M.P. — has fashioned for himself a distinguished
career. During this pleasant voyage The Walrus
directed her course to Venice and various Italian
cities — all new and welcome to our actor, who was

^ The late Earl of Lytton once told me many interesting
particulars of his father's popular play. It was really an adapta-
tion from a French story called "The Bellows-mender."

100 SIR HENRY IRVING

at the same time taking stock of the manners, cus-
toms, dresses, &c., of the country, and acquiring, as
it were, the general flavour and couleur locale. His
scene-painter had also found his way there, and was
filling his sketch-book with rich " bits of colour,"
picturesque streets, and buildings. The manager
was, in fact, pondering over a fresh Shakespearian
venture — an Italian play, which was to be produced
with the new season. He was 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. Every one anticipated by a sort of instinct
what entertainment was in store for them : for here
was the part and here was the actor. Notwith-
standing the elaborate character of the preparations,
the whole was "got up" in some four weeks, though
this period did not comprise the long course of
private study and meditation during which the
scheme was gradually matured in his mind. When
on his yachting expedition he had taken advantage
of a hasty visit to Tangier to purchase Moorish
costumes to be used in the Shakespearian spectacle
he was preparing.

To fill up the interval he got ready Colman's
drama 'The Iron Chest,' produced on September
27, 1879. This powerful but lugubrious piece has
always had an unaccountable attraction for trage-
dians. Sir Edward Mortimer belongs, indeed, to
the family of Sir Giles Overreach. The character
offered temptation to our actor from its long-

SIR EDWARD MORTIMER 101

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 was hopelessly old-fashioned. It is
impossible in our day to accept seriously a "band of
robbers," who, moreover, live " in the forest" ; and
the "proofs" of Sir Edward's guilt, a knife and
blood-stained cloth, carefully preserved in an old
chest which is always in sight, have a burlesque air.
Irving very successfully presented the image of
the tall, wan, haggard man, a prey to secret remorse
and sorrow. Wilford, the secretary, is by anticipa-
tion, as it were, in possession of the terrible secret
of the murder, and is himself a character of much
force and masterful control. He was really the
complement of the leading personage. But Norman
Forbes — one of the Forbes Robertson family,
ingenuus puer, and likewise boncB indolis — made of
this part merely an engaging youth, who certainly
ought to have given no anxiety in the world to a
conscience-stricken murderer. The terrors of Sir
Edward would have had more force and effect had
he been in presence of a more robust and resolute
personage — one who was not to be drawn off the
scent, or shaken off his prey. This piece well
served its purpose as "a stop-gap" until the new
one was ready.

CHAPTER VII

1879
'the merchant of Venice'

THIS great and attractive play was now ready ;
all was anticipation and eager interest. The
night of its production — November i, 1879 — was
a festive one. The house was most brilliant : and
indeed this may be accounted the first regular, official
Lyceum premiere. 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
rarely been matched. The figures seemed to have
a grace that belonged not to the beings that pace,
and declaim upon, the boards. Add the back-
ground, the rich, exquisite dresses, the truly noble
scenery — a revel of colour, yet mellowed — the elegant

theatre itself crammed with an audience as elegant,

102

ELLliN TeKRY as " PoKI lA."

Fhoto by Lock &■ Whitfield, Ealing, IV.

To face p. 103.

'THE MERCHANT OF VENICE' 103

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-grey 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, &c., surely for taste, contrivance, and effect
has never been surpassed. 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 mdlange of dappled colour in the great Louvre
picture. There was a judicious reserve too, and
none of that overloading of illustration without
a propos, which was such a serious blemish in later
productions.

Shylock was not the convential usurer with
patriarchal beard and flowing robe, dirty and hook-
nosed, but a picturesque and refined Italianised
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

104 SIR HENRY IRVING

piercing, his face is sallow, his hair spare and
turning grey ; he wears a black cap, a brown
gaberdine faced with black, and a short robe
underneath. ^ And, at the same time, it must be
said that this system of reviving the tone of the era
seems quite ?//z- Shakespearian. These revels and
Venetian dances and gondolas, put in for " local
colour," have really litde to do with high tragedy
and dramatic interest : persons of our day, when
involved in an acute crisis, have no thought of such
material things about them. You must " come to
the 'osses." Everything else seems trivial and
interruptive. But this "overloading" of the Bard
is a fertile theme and almost requires a treatise to
itself.

The "Trial scene," with its shifting passions,
must have stamped Irving as a fine actor. See

' Sometimes one of his richer revivals would cost eight or ten
thousand pounds. Further, as he was easy and magnificent in his
dealings, he was charged always the full or fullest price. How
unlike the worthy old " Colonel " Bateman ! I was once with the
latter when a traveller in stuffs was shown in and unfolded his
cheap wares, blue, green, crimson, which the Colonel felt and
tested all ways, and got his own price too ! Everybody had their
"pull "at the "Chief." He was always splendid in his private
transactions. Any book that he desired at an auction he bought
without limit of price. After one visit to Mr. Quaritch in search
of a book of German costumes for ' Faust,' he came away having
paid ;^8o for a number of volumes ! I was once with him in
Birmingham at Christmas-time, when he brought me to
Elkington's to choose handsome presents for the company. It
was fine to see in what stately style he selected — pointing to this
and that piece of silver, " Send up that ! " I was not forgotten.
All which was to have its natural sequel.

Ikving as "Shylock "

I'hoto by f.yddell, Sawyer, <&• I>iinr..

To face p 105.

'THE MERCHANT OF VENICE* 105

him as he enters, having laid aside his gaberdine
and stick, and arrayed in his short-skirted gown,
not with flowine but tia-htened sleeves, so that this
spareness seems to lend a general gauntness to his
appearance. There he stands, with eyes half fur-
tively, half distrustfully following the Judge as he
speaks. When called upon to answer the appeal
made to him "from the bench," how different from
the expected conventional declaration of violent
hatred! Instead, his explanation is given with an
artful adroitness as if drawn from him. Thus, "If
you deny it " is a reminder given with true and
respectful dignity, not a threat ; and when he further
declares that it "is his humour," there is a candour
which might commend his case, though he cannot
restrain a gloating look at his prey. But as he
dwells on the point, and gives instances of other
men's loathing, this malignity seems to carry him
away, and, complacent in the logic of his illustration
of the " gaping pig" and " harmless necessary cat,"
he bows low with a Voltairean smile, and asks, ''Are
you answered?'' How significant, too, his tapping
the bag of gold several times with his knife, in
rejection of the double sum offered, meant as a
calm, business-like refusal ; and the " I would have
my bond ! " emphasised 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

106 SIR HENRY IRVING

being read out he listens with a quiet interest,
plucking his beard a Httle 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," &c., becoming almost wheed-
ling. And when he pleads his oath —

"Shall I lay perjury upon my soul?
No, not for Venice ! "

there is a hypocritical earnestness, as if he were
given his reason privately to the counsel, though
there is a strange, indescribable sneer conveyed in
that "not for Venice." Then the compliment to
Portia, " How much more elder art thou than thy
looks ! " which he utters, crouching low, with a
smiling, even leering, admiration, but admiration
given for what is on his own side. And what
follows opens a most natural piece of business,
arising out of the sort of confidential intimacy
which he would establish between them —

"Ay, his breast,
So says the bond; — Doth it not, noble judge?
Nearest his heart, those are the very words";

the latter words pronounced with canine ferocity,
his eyes straining over the other's shoulders, while
he points with his knife — secure, too, that the other
will agree with him. He fancies that he has
brought over the counsel to his side. And it may

'THE MERCHANT OF VENICE' 107

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, totter-
ing away bewildered and utterly broken. As may
be imagined, this new Shylock excited a vast deal
of controversy. The " old school " was scornful ;
and here again it would have been worth hearing
the worthy Jack Ryder — whom we still must take
to be the type of the good old past — on the
subject.

Nothing was more remarkable than the general

108 SIR HENRY IRVING

effect of this fine and thoughtful representation upon
the public. It was a distinct education, too, and set
every one discussing and reading. Admittedly one
result was the great increase in the sale of editions
of Shakespeare's works ; and the ephemeral litera-
ture 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. But there was plenty of fair and
honest dissent as to the interpretation of the play,
with some reasonably argued protests against the
over-abundant decoration. ^

The hundredth night of the run of this pro-
digiously successful revival was celebrated in
hospitable fashion by a supper, to which all that
was artistic, literary, and fashionable — tout Londres
in short — was bidden. The night was Saturday,
February 14, 1880, the hour half-past eleven.
As soon as the piece was terminated a panto-
mimic change was accomplished. In an incredibly

^ As I write, there is being performed a very meritorious
and interesting revival of the play, by Mr. Bourchier, at the
Garrick Theatre. It is a thoughtful, and even sufficient,
rendering. But it must be said, there is a wide gulf between
it and Irving's version. The Bourchier representation is
practical and prosaic. Irving's was full of poetical suggestion :
of a sort of pulsating feeling which stirred the spectators.
Improving on the hint given by Irving, of Shylock being shown
returning to his house after the flight of his daughter, Mr.
Bourchier "works it up "—pauses before his door, knocks,
and knocks again. After all, we had seen his daughter carried
off by her young man, which disposed of the business. As we
depart further from the date of Irving's death we shall come
to recognise his merits.

'THE MERCHANT OF VENICE' 109

short space of time — some forty minutes — an
enormous marquee, striped red and white, that
enclosed the whole of the stage, was set up ; the
tables were arranged and spread with "all the
luxuries of the season " with magic rapidity. An
enjoyable night followed. The host's health was
given by that accomplished man, and man of
elegant tastes, Lord Houghton, in what was thought
a curiously mal ct propos speech. After conventional
eulogiums, he could not resist some half-sarcastic
remarks as to "this new method of adorninof
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 improve-
ment 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 condi-
tion were ready to allow their children to go on the
stage. We put our sons and daughters into it." I
recall now the genuine indignation and roughly-
expressed sentiments of some leading performers
and critics who were sitting near me at this very
awkward compliment. He then proceeded to speak
of the new impersonation, describing how he had
seen a Shylock, formerly considered a ferocious
monster, but who had, under their host's treatment,
become a "gentleman of the Jewish persuasion, in
voice very like a Rothschild, afflicted with a stupid
servant and wilful and pernicious daughter, to

no SIR HENRY IRVING

be eventually foiled by a very charming woman.
But there was one character Mr. Irvine would
never pervert or misrepresent, and that was his
own," &c.

Never was the power and good-humour — the bon-
ho77iie — of the manager more happily displayed than
in his reply. As was said at the time, it showed him
in quite a new light. Taken wholly unawares —
for whatever preparation he might have made was,
he said, " rendered useless by the unexpected tone
of Lord Houghton's remarks " — he was thrown on
his impromptu resources, and proved that he
really possessed what is called debating power.
He spoke without hesitation, and with much good
sense and playful humour put aside these blended
compliments and sarcasms.

Some time before the manager, who was on
friendly terms with the gifted Helen Faucit, deter-
mined to revive a piece in which she had once made
a deep impression, viz., ' King Rene's Daughter.'
This poem, translated by her husband, set out the
thoughts and feelings of a young girl in the con-
trasted conditions of blindness and of sight recovered.
With a natural enthusiasm for his art, Irving per-
suaded 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 old 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 Anti-
gone. But, alas ! for the old Antigone dreams ;

lOLANTHE 111

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 recosi'nition.

Miss Terry herself had always fancied the charac-
ter of lolanthe, and it was now proposed to give the
play as an after-piece to ' The Merchant of Venice,'
a substantial meal for one night. Our heroine made
a tender, natural, and highly emotional character of
it. A new version or adaptation from the Danish
had been made, for obvious reasons, by the trusty
Wills : the piece was set off by one really lovely
scene, which represented the heart of some deep
grove, that seemed almost inaccessible to us, weird
and jungle-like. A golden, gorgeous light played
on the trees capriciously ; there was a rich tangle of
huge tropical flowers ; while behind, the tall, bare
trunks of trees were ranged close together like
sentinels. Golden doors opened with a musical
chime, or clang ; strange, weird music, as of seolian
harps, floated up now and again. With this back-
ground, 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

112 SIR HENRY IRVING

devotional trust, as when she exclaimed, " I ^^
to find the light ! " This sort of rapture also
tinned the hero's character, and the audience
were lifted into a region where emotion reigned
supreme.

CHAPTER VIII

1880

'the CORSICAN brothers' and ' THE CUP '

WITH his usual tact the manager had deter-
mined 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-con-
structed 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
ripertoire that can be put beside these ingenious
efforts. Some thirty years ago, when it was pro-
duced 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 Stopel, and the mysterious, gliding progress of
the murdered brother across the stao^e, enthrallingf
every one. There was a story at the time that the
acts, sent over from Paris in separate parcels for

9 113

114 SIR HENRY IRVING

translation, had become transposed, the second act
being placed first, and this order was retained in the
representation with some benefit to the play. This
may be a legend ; but the fact is that either act
could come first without making any serious
difference.

Magnificent and attractive as was the mounting
of this piece at this time, it was far excelled in
sumptuousness on its later revival in 1891. The
experience of ten years had made the manager feel
a certainty in the results of his own efforts ; his
touch had become sure ; the beautiful and striking
effects were developed naturally, without that undue
emphasis which often disturbs the onward course of
a piece. Hence that fine, unobtrusive harmony
which reigned in all his pictures. Even now the
wonderful opera house, the forest glades, the salon
in Paris, all rise before us. Nor was there less art
shown in the subdued tone of mystery which it was
contrived to throw over the scenes. The scenes
themselves, even those of reckless gaiety, seemed to
strike this " awesome " note. Much as the familiar
" ghost tune " was welcomed, more mysterious, as
it always seemed to me, was the creepy variation
on the original theme, devised by Mr. H. Clarke,
and which stole in mournfully at some impending
crisis all through the piece. There was some criti-
cism on the D'Orsay costumes of the piece ; the
short-waisted waistcoats, the broad-brimmed opera
hats, and the rich cravats — Joinvilles, as they used
to be called. These lent a piquancy, and yet were
not too remote from the present time. Terriss, it

'THE CORSICAN BROTHERS' 115

must be said, was lacking in elegance and " dis-
tinction." There always lingers in the memory the
imao-e of the smooth orrace 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. " Chateau-
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." A judicious
criticism.

Familiarity has now somewhat dulled the effect
of the gliding entrance of the ghostly Louis, which
at first seemed almost supernatural. The art was
in making the figure rise as it advanced, and an
ingenious contrivance was devised by one of the
stage foremen. It was a curious feeling to find one-
self in the cavernous reg-ions below the stao-e, and
see the manager rush down and hurriedly place
himself on the trap to be worked slowly upwards. ^

' 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

116 SIR HENRY IRVING

The use of intense light has favoured the intro-
duction 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,
throuo^h 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 mao-ic-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 the gauzes.

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 had noted how artfully the
performer changed his weapon ; for in the early

Nature " in such points. She has no replicas in her store : makes
everything distinct. And it is significant of the strong individua-
lity 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 back
outline of the figure, arms, &c. I believe no two people could be
found so alike in their general appearance as to be indistinguish-
able — thus illustrating the late Mr. Carlyle's quaint phrase when
speaking of some one whose character he had interpreted un-
favourably, ^^ I knew it by the twist of the hip of him."

'THE CORSICAN BROTHERS' 117

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 com-
batants lean as on the seconds to rather strength
for the second "round," and one gets his new
weapon from behind a tree, the other from behind
a prostrate log.

But it is in the next act that the series of elaborate
set scenes succeeding each other entails the most
serious difficulties, only to be overcome in one way
— viz., by the employment of an enormous number
of persons. Few modern scenes were more striking
than that of the opera house lit a giorno, with its
grand chandelier and smaller clusters running round.
The blaze of light was prodigious ; for this some five
thousand feet of gas-tubing had to be laid down, the
floor covered with snake-like coils of indiarubber
pipes, and the whole to be contrived so as to be con-
trolled 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.^

' 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,
&c. It was succeeded almost instantly by a scene occupying the

118 SIR HENRY IRVING

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 catiserie through the
small hours, concluded a delightful and rather
oriorinal form of a night's entertainment.

As we call up the memories of the Lyceum
performances, with what a series of picturesque
visions is our memory furnished — poetical Shake-
spearian pageants ; romantic melodramatic stories,
set forth with elegance and vraisemb lance ; plays of
pathetic or domestic interest ; exhilarating comedies ;

same space — that of the forest, requiring the minutest treatment,
innumerable properties, real trees, &c. This is how it is con-
trived. 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 pros-
trate trunk of a tree — every one from practice knowing the exact
place of the particular article he is appointed to carry. Others
arrive with bags of sand, which are emptied and strewn on the
floor ; the circular tree is in position, the limelights ready. The
transformation was effected, in what space of time will the reader
imagine ? In thirty-eight seconds^ by the stage-manager's watch !
By that time the tableau had been drawn aside, and Chateau-
Renaud and his friend Maugiron were descending into the gloomy
glade after their carriage had broken down.

A curious little controversy arose as to the authorship of the

'THE CORSICAN BROTHERS' 119

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 presenta-
tions 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
VHL,' 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 archaeology !

The late Laureate, not contented with the popu-
larity which his poems have won, always "hankered"
after the entrancing publicity and excitement of the

Ghost Melody. It was claimed for Mr. Stopel, who was acting as
chef dorchestre at the Theatre Historique when the play was
originally produced. Another claim was made for Varney, author
of the stirring hymn, Mourir pour la patrie. Oddly enough,
Stopel, 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. But there used to be a
pianoforte piece by one Rosellen — a Reverie — which certainly
began and went on for many bars in the same fashion. However,
a copy of the music of the Ghost Melody, arranged for the piano-
forte, and published in 1852, was unearthed, which bore on its
title the words : " Composed by M. Varney, of the Theatre
Historique : arranged by R. Stopel, 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 credit of this air to Varney.

120 SIR HENRY IRVING

theatre.^ He made many an attempt in this direction,
and his Hst 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 ' Pro-
mise of May' — the regular "first-nighter," as he is
called, was indebted for an amusing and enjoyable
evening's entertainment.^ It must be conceded,
however, that there is a dramatic tone or flavour
about his pieces which is attractive, in spite of all
deficiencies, and any one who could not see a touch-
ing 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 pro-
ject for bringing forward a new drama by the poet.
The preparations for this elegant play were of the

^ Tennyson s dramatic "baggage" is really important, for a poet.
He can count no less than six pieces.

^ This was one of the most hilarious, enjoyable nights that it
was possible to conceive. The richest Palais Royal farce could
not compare. I " assisted." It was a great event. The great
Gladstone came specially to see his friend's triumph, and " duly
emboxed," glared portentously round the house. The hero of
the piece was a flagrant Socialist, uttering periodically the
most shocking doctrines, on which the gallery became by and
by inflamed, uttering cries and booings. The point of the jest,
however, was that the bard intended to hold up the character to
odium; but unluckily the crowd took this to be the author's repel-
lent creed, and so the tumult increased. The gloom gathered on
the brow of the great politician, who yet seemed persuaded that
all would be well. But it went from bad to worse.

'THE CUP' 121

most lavish and unstinted kind. Nothing, literally,
was spared in the outlay of either study, thought,
money, or art. The manager usually followed an
eclectic system, choosing his aides and assistants as
they appear suited to each play. Thus an architect
of literary tastes, Mr. Knowles, was called in to
design a regular Temple-interior, which was the
principal scene, and which was to be treated, secun-
dimt artem, in professional style. And so it rose with
all its pillars and pediments "behind the scenes."

" No ponderous axes rung ;
Like some tall palm the mystic fabric sprung."

The name of the new piece was * The Cup,' a fine
" barbarian " story, strangely interesting and even
fascinating. It was, of course, diffuse and expanded
to inordinate length. And there were many pleasant
stories afloat of the poet contending "for the dear life "
for his "ewe lambs," and for every line of his poetry ;
the manager, in his pleasant, placid way — but firm
withal — quietly insisting on the most abundant com-
pression.

The night of performance was that of January 3,
1 88 1, 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 some-
thing so fascinating about the play, something so
refining, and also so " fantastical," that though lack-

122 SIR HENRY IRVING

ing the strong thews and muscles of a regular drama,
it satisfied eye and ear. As it floated before us, in
airy, evanescent fashion, it seemed to recall the lines
that wind up the most charming of Shakespeare's
plays, when the revels now had ended, and all had
" melted into air, into thin air." The noble Temple,
with its rich mouldings, was destined too soon, alas !
to pass away into the same dark grave of so many
noble creations. On the two chief characters, both
full of tragic power, the eye rested with an almost
entrancing interest. Never did Irving act better —
that is, never did he convey by his look and tones
the evidence of the barbaric conception within him.
There was a fine, pagan, reckless savagery, yet
controlled by dignity. Miss Terry's Camma returns
to the memory like the fragment of a dream. The
delightful creation was brought before us more by her
sympathetic bearing and motion than by speech; but
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 associa-
tion 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.

Mr. Gladstone always affected a particular interest
in our actor — even an enthusiasm ; and used to sit
in the wings, his hand to his ear listening to the
Tennyson and other plays. This must have been
an amiable aff"ectation, for what he saw could not

THE LYCEUM LION.
"A SCORE OF Dogs onawko at hi>! anklks; at last he felt the tuol-blc ok his

FEET — i'UT FORTH ONE PAW, SLEW FOUll AND KNEW IT XOT." — "THE CUP."

[To faci- pdije 122,

♦THE CUP' 123

have been after his taste. Indeed, none of " the old
school," I always noted, could understand or tolerate
Irving. When he went to Windsor to play ' Becket'
before her late Majesty, the performance was not
found suited to her old-fashioned taste.

It was not a little disheartening to think that this
"entire, perfect chrysolite" was received with a
rather cold admiration, or at least not with the
enthusiasm it richly merited. The apathetic crowd
scarcely appreciated the too delicate fare set before
It, we scarcely know why. I suppose that it had
not sufficient robustness, as it is called. After some
weeks the manager found it needful to supplement
the attraction of the play by the revived ' Corsican
Brothers.' It may be conceived what a strain ^ was

^ One agreeable night which was spent behind the scenes
enabled me to study the admirable arrangements by which this
complicated operation was carried out with smoothness and success.

" No sooner has the drop-scene fallen — and a person always
' stood by ' to see that the huge roller was kept clear of careless
spectators — than a busy scene set 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

124 SIR HENRY IRVING

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.

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, &c., 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 com-
plete, and men bear in the altars and steps and the enormous idol
at the back — over twenty feet high. It is worth while looking
close even at the sound and effective modelling of the raised
classic figures that encircle the lower portions of each column, all
in good relief, such as we see in Mr. Alma Tadema's pictures.
The variety and richness of these are surprising, and they fairly
bear a close inspection. They are coloured, too, with that ivory
tone which the older marbles acquire. All this was wrought in
the property-room, and worked in clay ; the figures were then
plastered over with paper, or papier-mache^ 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 Unes 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 " build-
ing " 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."

CHAPTER IX
1881

* OTHELLO ' AND * THE TWO ROSES ' REVIVED

AT this time there came to London an American
actor whose reputation in his own country was
very high, and for whom it was claimed that, as a
legitimate performer, he was superior to all rivals.
This was Edwin Booth. He was welcomed with
cordiality and much curiosity, and by none was
he received with such hearty goodwill as by the
manager of the Lyceum. Unluckily, he had made
his arrangements injudiciously, having agreed to
appear under a management which was quite
unsuited to the proper exhibition of his gifts. The
Princess's Theatre was a house devoted to melo-
drama of the commoner type, and was directed by
commercial rather than by aesthetic principles. In
fact, we had seen horses on this stage ! 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.

126 SIR HENRY IRVING

starved fashion that was fatal to the American's
chances.

In this disastrous state of things the manager of
the Lyceum nobly came to the rescue of his confrere
with a suggestion as delicate as it was generous.
He offered him his theatre, with its splendid
resources and traditions, his company, and — him-
self. He proposed that a Shakespearian play
should be produced on the customary scale of
magnificence, and that he and Booth should fill the
leading characters. This handsome offer was, of
course, accepted with gratitude, and ' Othello ' was
selected as the play.

The arrangements for this " Booth season," as it
might be termed, were of an unusual and certainly
laborious kind. The manager, however, was never
disposed to spare himself The programme began
on May 2, 1881, when Booth was to appear as
Othello, performing on Monday, Wednesday, and
Friday, the manager playing lago. 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.^

' One morning, during the preparations, I found myself in the
painting-room, where Mr. Craven was busy with one of the
interesting Httle 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, &c., 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,

RIVAL HAM LETS.

liux (/111 Eiifj;liKli Ihnnlet) — ^^'no auf. You?

Ctox (An American Hamlet) — Ik it comes to that. Who ari: Yoh ?

[To fifcr jiiKjc 127.

'OTHELLO' REVIVED 127

The night of May 2 was an exciting one, even in
the Hst of exciting Lyceum nights. The Americans
were, of course, there in tremendous force. Irving
— Booth — Ellen Terry : this surely formed, in
theatrical phrase, a galaxy of talent, and the cyno-
sure of a crowded, brilliant audience. It was,
indeed, a pleasing 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, emphasised
with strides and lunges, are done with.

Of Irving's lago it would be difficult to say too
much. There have been always the two extremes :
one portraying the Ancient as a malignant, scowl-
ing, 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 emphasised 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 treat-
ment — the character was coherent throughout. The
keynote was found in his humour. In "I hate
the Moor ! " — one of those secret, jealous, mor-
bid broodings which belong to human nature,

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 ; but this entailed making a new design,
all which he suggested to the painter with pleasant persuasion and
kindly, apologetic courtesy, but was, as always, firm in his purpose.
If a second experiment did not satisfy, it must be tried again.
Suaviter in modo, &c., was certainly his maxim.

128 SIR HENRY IRVING

and an admirably delivered soliloquy — he strives
to find some reasonable excuse for this sugges-
tion ; ' 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, some-
times alternated with a short cloak and a red mantle
worn on one arm. This striking impersonation
deeply impressed the judicious and reflecting — from
its extraordinary cleverness. It was so intelli-
gent : the meaning of passages was so distinctly
brought out. Yet, strange to say, he never
thought of it again or reverted to it. This was
really curious, as he thus lost what might have
proved a great success and one of his striking
characters. But then — the Manager Actor inter-
poses — what of the Othello ?

In Booth's Othello there appeared to be a lack of
vigour, and the elocutionist was too much 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

'OTHELLO' REVIVED 129

measure. But in the scene with lago, 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 higher class, and stirred us. Miss
Terry's Desdemona was pathetic, and her piteous
pleadings and remonstrances went straight to the
heart.

At the next performance the parts were inter-
changed. A figure arrayed in a flowing amber robe
over a purple brocaded gaberdine ; a small, snow-
white turbine ; 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.

Booth's lago had been seen before, and v/as
much praised. It was on the old " Mephistopheles "
lines. The dress, indeed, strangely meagre and
old-fashioned, scarcely harmonised with the rich
costumes about him. I remember Lord Houghton,

130 SIR HENRY IRVING

on his return from the United States, telling me,
on my asking him his opinion, that " Booth was
a really fine actor — quite so." But it struck me
and many others that he was of an old fashion,
and about twenty years behind Irving.

The whole of this transaction, as I have said, did
honour to the English actor. Nothing more cordi-
ally hospitable could have been imagined. But at
the time there was a " Booth party," who gave out
that their favourite had not had fair play, and that
on a stage of his own his superiority to all rivals
would be apparent. These and other insinua-
tions were scattered about freely. Irving might
have passed them by with indifference. It was
certainly not his duty to share his stage with a
stranger and a rival. At the same time we may
give him credit for a certain delicate finesse, and he
may have later thought, with a smiling, good-
humoured complacency, that, owing to his allow-
ing the experiment, the issue had turned out very
differently from what "good-natured people" had
hoped. He had not been " played down." The
mortification for the American must have been
the greater from the disadvantage of the con-
trast, which brought out in the most forcible way
the want of "distinction," the stock of old, rather
faded, devices with which he came provided, and
which he tried on his audience with an antique
gravity. Audiences have, unfortunately, but little
delicacy. In their plain way they show their appre-
ciation of whom they think "the better man" in
a business-like manner ; and I remember how they

'OTHELLO' REVIVED 131

insisted that the encouraging applause which they
gave to the new actor should be shared by his host.^
When the actor took his benefit — how strange
the phrase reads, for the new generation knows
nothing of " benefits " ! — 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 entertain-
ment consisted of the stock piece of 'The Bells.'
Mr. Toole performed Mr. Hollingshead's farce,
* The Birthplace of Podgers,' a happy subject, which
showed that the "germ" of the aesthete "business"
existed twenty years before. The feature of the
night was a well-known scene from ' The Hunch-
back,' 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 hand-
some curtains, festooned in rich and abundant folds,

' 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. It is sad to think that later when
Irving went to the States Booth studiously kept aloof.

132 SIR HENRY IRVING

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.
It was played in sparkling fashion by Irving and
his partner. 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 insen-
sible to her advances must have succumbed. But
in truth this wonderful creature " adorns all
she touches." There was a Jordan-like vein of
comedy. 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 oafish-
ness, so as to make it surprising that there should
be any object in winning such a being. Irving
imparted a suitable air to it, and lifted the character
into pure comedy.

At the end came the expected speech, delivered
with a pleasant familiarity, and dwelling on past
successes and future plans. It was a pleasant and
remarkable season to look back upon : the en-
chanting '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 Enorlish actor on
the same stage, and their strangely opposed readings
of the same characters.

"OLD HOWE" 133

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 was then, perhaps, the only link with the
generation of the greater actors. It was a graceful
and thoughtful act of Irving's to seek out the
veteran and attach him to his company. In the
years following he always treated him with a kindly
and courteous consideration. Every one who knew
Howe could testify to his pleasant, lovable quali-
ties. He had not a 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 hwi, 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 Isle worth, the image of many a pleasant hour
in the old Haymarket days has risen up with his
presence. With him rose Buckstone, Mrs. Fitz-
william. Miss Woolgar, and so many more. It was
always pleasant to encounter his honest face in the
Strand, where he lived, as he was hurrying to his
work. ^

' This performer was associated with the best traditions of the
good old school ; and is linked with many interesting associa-
tions. It is curious, too, to think that he 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

134 SIR HENRY IRVING

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 crea-
tion. 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

those old pieces, you know, such as ' The Roman Gladiator,' or
'Paul before Agrippa.' In this way I acquired my first liking for the
stage. One night I went with my cousin John to the Old Drury
Lane Theatre to see Kean, who was then creating a furore by his
magnificent acting. In those days, you know, they sold good
seats in the gallery for a shilling ; so I and my cousin Jack paid
our shilling — the usual half-price — and went into the gallery. I
shall never forget that night. The playing opened, I think, with
the third act. I see Kean as plainly as if it were only yesterday.
There he sat, a small man, upon his throne in the middle of the
stage. Well, after leaving the theatre, Jack and I had to cross a
bridge on our way home. I sat down in the recess of the bridge,
almost overcome by my emotion, and said, ' John, I am going to
be an actor.' He tried to dissuade me, and laughed at the folly
of the idea, but my mind was made up." One of the most strik-
ing incidents of 'King Lear' was the "ovation," as it is called,
which greeted the veteran as he presented himself in a small
character.

'THE TWO ROSES' REVIVED 135

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 listened to the
advice, and secured an actor who was of his own
school, of well-defined instincts and much elegance,
and exactly suited to h^jeune premier o^xhe. Lyceum.
It may be conceived with what delight, as he him-
self has told me, this unexpected opening was re-
ceived by the then obscure youth ; and at a pleasant
supper the new engagement was ratified. Now the
young Glasgow candidate is the prosperous manager
of the St. James's Theatre, a position which many
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
Jin de siecle times, both days and hours have doubled
their value.

The piece was well mounted and well played, and
there was much interest felt in comparing the new
cast with the old. In a pleasant, half-sad medita-
tion, my friend the late 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

136 SIR HENRY IRVING

had taken the place of the oleaginous Honey, and
for those who had not seen the latter, was an
admirable representative of the part. The " Roses"
were Miss Helen Mathews and Miss Emery.

The manager, in his old part, received much
praise from the entire circle of critics. Some con-
sidered it his most perfect creation, and likened it
to Got's 'Due Job' and Regnier's 'Annibal.' It
was certainly a finished and original perform-
ance ; 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. It was much " coarsened," even over-
done ; for Irving now was beginning to lose that
delicate comedy touch, which once so distinguished
him — and I really think fancied he could be farcical
when he chose. But 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 artifi-
ciality. Under the old repertoire system, when a
piece was given for a few nights, then suspended to
be resumed after an interval, the actor came to his
part with a certain freshness and feeling of novelty.

At the same time, it should be said that the play
itself was accountable for this loss of effect. It was
of but an ephemeral sort, and belonged to an old
school which had passed away. It was written for
a particular moment and season. Other players
besides Irving, conscious of this weakness, have
felt themselves constrained to supplement it by
such broad touchings. The average " play of
commerce " is but the inspiration of the time.

THE LYCEUM BEAUTIFIED 137

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 : it seems flat, and must be supplemented.
When closing his season and making the im-
portant announcement of the selection of ' Romeo
and Juliet ' for the new one, the manager promised
alterations and improvements in the theatre. These
were duly carried out, and not only added to
the comfort of the audience, but also to the profits
of the management. The corridor at the back of
the dress-circle was taken in, and supplied some
sixty or seventy new seats ; while below, on the pit
floor, place was found for some two hundred addi-
tional 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 Lord 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. The manager was not content until,

' It was amazing in the pre-County Council days how such
shifts could be tolerated. The Lyceum pit was always a terrible
cavern, and in case of panic there would have been terrible
scenes.

138 SIR HENRY IRVING

many years later, he had purchased the adjoining
houses and thoroughly remodelled the whole. ^

In the interval he took his company on a pro-
vincial tour to the leadinof towns. At Glasgfow it
was proclaimed 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 extra-
ordinary " drawing " power of our actor was never
exhibited more signally than during the engage-
ment at Edinburgh, at Mr. Howard's theatre,
which produced results that were really unprece-
dented. On his last appearance Irving told the
audience that this " engagement — and you must
not take it for egotism — has been the most re-

' 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 Planche
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 these later alterations. The elegant contour was dis-
turbed ; the double pillars, which recurred periodically in the
dress-circle, 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 altera-
tions 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.

GREAT RECEIPTS 139

markable one played for any twelve nights in any
theatre, I should think, in Great Britain, certainly
out of London, and there are some large theatres
in London. I may tell you that there has been
taken during the engagement here ^4,300, which is
certainly the largest sum ever had before in any
theatre during the space of time, and I believe it is
perfectly unprecedented in any city." This was a
tribute to his attraction. On his departure a gold
repeater watch was presented to him.

CHAPTER X
1882

' ROMEO AND JULIET ' — BANQUET

BY March 8, 1882, the great revival of ' Romeo
and JuHet ' 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 so many years have elapsed since the
opening night. " Among the restorations will be
found that of Romeo's unrequited love for Rosaline,
omitted, among other things, in Garrick's version."
Those who came away from the Lyceum on that
opening night must have had a sense almost of
bewilderment, so rich and dazzling were the scenes
of light and colour that had for hours passed before
their eyes. According to a true illusive principle
of this stage, the lights were lowered as every
scene was about to change, by which a sense of
mystery was produced, and the prosaic mechanism
of the movement shrouded. Hence, a sort of

140

'ROMEO AND JULIET' 141

richness of effect and surprise as the gloom passes
away and a gorgeous scene steeped in effulgence
and colour is revealed. Since this sentence was
written the darkening has become a familiar, almost
necessary custom, though the darkening has been
overdone. Irving, perhaps, did not know that it
was Goethe who first indicated this method. It
would take long to detail the beautiful views, streets,
palaces, chambers, dresses, groupings, that were set
before the audience, all devised with an extra-
ordinary 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. All was glitter and jewels and colours,
and all bathed in floods of light ; Shakespeare
seemed altogether lost and drowned. Not the least
pleasurable part of the whole was the romantic
music, written in a flowing, tender strain by Sir
Julius Benedict, full of a juvenile freedom and
spirit, thoroughly Italian in character, and having
something of the grace and character of Schubert's
' Rosamunde.' In the exquisite garden, with it,
depths 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

142 SIR HENRY IRVING

standing. I fancy this was the scenic triumph of
the night.

When we consider that Romeo and Juliet are
characters almost impossible to play so as to
reach the Shakespearian ideal, it becomes easier to
"liberate one's mind" on the subject of the per-
formance of the two leadinof characters. The chief
objection was that they scarcely presented the ideal
of superabundant youth — boyish and girlish — re-
quired 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 over-
powered, as it were, by the acting. It is the acting
of youth, not the appearance of youth, that is
required ; and a case is conceivable where all the
flush of youth with its physical accompaniments
may be present in perfection, and yet from failure
of the acting the idea of maturity and age may be
conveyed. I In the dramatic ball-room scene, when

' 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 man-
nerisms, 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.

'ROMEO AND JULIET' 143

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 Hfe. The critics spoke freely in this
sense.

It was, indeed — if we must speak the truth —
a most grotesque exhibition, and when he became
the passionate lover, his frantic gestures and extra-
ordinary gamut became truly comic. The youthful
antics combined with an elderly face, even now
provokes a smile. But such experiments are par-
donable and natural too. It was really the fault of
the assiduous flappers and flatterers. "Oh, Mr.
Irving, you would be an ideal Romeo!" I heard
some ladies say at a dinner; "you 7nust act Romeo."
But in the latter, more tragic portion of the play,
the very intensity of the emotion seemed to add
maturity and depth to the character of Romeo.
Nothing could better supply the notion of im-
pending destiny, of gathering gloom, than the
view of the dismal, heart-chilling street, the scene
of the visit to the apothecary. Our actor's pic-
turesque sense was shown in his almost perfect
conception of this situation. The forlorn look of
the houses, the general desolation, the stormy

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 much truth.

144 SIR HENRY IRVING

grandeur in keeping with the surroundings, the
properly subdued grotesqueness of the seller of
simples (it was the grotesqueness of fnisery 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 "girlish-
ness." All agreed as to its engaging character and
its winning charm. Terriss was the Mercutio,
which he gave with his favourite blunt impetuosity.
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 im-
portant as the leading pair, but from no fault of
the actress. She but followed the due course.
Such 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 Bottom the Weaver, or his
melancholy Jacques, to the very fullest extent
of which they are capable. But there should
be subordination ; these are merely humours ex-
hibited en passant. With an actress of Mrs.
Stirling's powers and rank, the manager no doubt
felt too much delicacy to interfere ; nor would
perhaps the audience have placidly accepted any
effacing of her part. But as it was, the

BANQUET 145

figure of this humble retainer became unduly-
prominent.''

' Romeo and Juliet' was witnessed one night by
the impetuous Sarah Bernhardt, who afterwards
came behind the scenes to congratulate the per-
formers. " How can you act in this way every
night ? " she exclaimed to Ellen Terry. The latter,
in her simple, natural way, explained : "It is the
audience — they inspire me ! "

Such was this refined, elegant, and brilliant
spectacle, which, as usual, furnished "talk for the
town," and stirred its interest. The hundredth
night of performance was celebrated by the usual
banquet on the stage, on Sunday night, June 25,
1882. Here assembled critics, dramatists, artists,
e tutti quanti; there were many admirers, friends,
and sympathisers present, most of whom have
since passed away. There is a sadness in thinking
of these disappearances.

But among the guests at the banquet was Mr.
Abbey, the American manager, well known for
his many daring and very successful coups in
management. His appearance excited much inte-
rest and speculation. In the course of the night
there were 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

' A rapturous article from a Liverpool critic, Sir E. Russell,
appeared in Mactnillan's Magazine^ which was, indeed, too
indiscriminating in its praises.

146 SIR HENRY IRVING

scheme had long been in his thoughts ; and, indeed,
already many invitations and proposals had been
made to him to visit the United States. There
was something dazzling and fascinating in this
prospect of going forth to conquer a new great
kingdom and new audiences. There was the
chance, too, of riches "beyond the dreams of
avarice." No wonder, then, that the scheme
began to take shape, and was presently to be
decided upon.

After one hundred and thirty nights' performance
of ' Romeo and Juliet,' the season was brought to
a close, the manager taking "a benefit" on his last
night. Some ungracious folk objected to this old-
established form of compliment, but he defended
it in a very modest and judicious way.

CHAPTER XI

1882

' MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING ' — AMERICAN VISIT

ARRANGED

IN his speech at the close of the season, the
manager announced the new piece selected for
the next season. With the judicious view to con-
trast or relief which directed all his efforts, he had
setded on a true comedy — the effective ' Much Ado
About Nothing.' To this piece many had long
since pointed as being exactly adapted to the
special gifts of the two performers. Here was the
fourth Shakespearian play of an Italian complexion
and atmosphere, which entailed accordingly a fresh
exhibition of Italian streets, manners, and costumes.
A happy impression was produced by the very note
of preparation, the air was filled with the breath of
the coming piece ; all felt, in anticipation, the agree-
able 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,

147

148 SIR HENRY IRVING

quiet enjoyment and good-humour with which
nothing else can compare.

On Wednesday, October ii, 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 rt^pertoire. 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 spec-
tacles, we find that there is no confusion of one
with the other, that each has a special, distinct
note, and thus was started a train of impressions,
delightful for their variety, which enrich the
chambers of the memory.

There was one scene which, for its splendour and
originality, was to be talked of for many a day, viz.,
the beautiful interior of a church at Messina — the
''Church Scene," as it was called. The art dis-
played here, the combination of " built-up " scenery
with "cloths," the rich harmonious tintings, the
ecclesiastical details, the metal-work, altars, &c.,

'MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING' 149

made an exquisite picture. ^ 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, how-
ever, that the genuflections before the altar were
introducing- rather too awful a sugrorestion, though
the intention was, no doubt, reverent. It must be
admitted by all whose memories wander back to
that performance, that the vision of this " Church
Scene " rises before them with an almost pathetic
significance, owing in some part to the touching,
sympathetic acting of Miss Millward. One of the
most typical instances of Irving's dealings with
Shakespeare was found in this effective ecclesi-
astical panorama. Still the critic is compelled to
say that this " Church Scene " unhappily exhibits
the worst vices of the new Shakespearian illustra-
tion. The stage directions are large and general :
as here, "A Church." By this is meant simply
the precincts of a church — somewhere within the
walls. All Catholics know that in great cathedrals
the average wedding takes place in a side chapel —
a clergyman comes out and ties the knot ; there
is no procession, incense, boys, or trains of priests.
The familiarity of the talk and lack of reverence
shows that it took place somewhere in aisles when
folk talk freely. The idea of Benedick and Beatrice
making love in front of the high altar is not to be
thought of.

' 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.

150 SIR HENRY IRVING

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.

He also imparted to the character a sort of
pragmatical air — but somewhat lacked the gay,
impulsive, irresponsible feeling. Self-consciousness,
to a certain degree, was always present. At the
same time he did it far better than any one else
could do it : and his own strong personality
neutralized defects.

These two characters. Benedick and Beatrice, are
so much the heritage of all lovers of true comedy,
that every one seems to have fixed a standard for
himself, which he will critically apply to every
representation. This partiality does not make us
particularly exigeant, but we have each our own
fancies. There is nothing more interesting, enter-
taining, 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 emphasised the somewhat farcical pas-
sages. 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 de-

AMERICAN VISIT ARRANGED 151

jected condition, almost inviting laughter and rude
** rallying." ^

During all this time, preparations for the great
American visit were being carefully matured.
There is supposed to be a sort of hostility be-
tween artistic gifts and business-like habits ; but
Irving always showed great capacity where organi-
sation and arrangement were in question — he had
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 even a
trifle in the best way that it could be done. Any-
thing worth doing at all, he would say, was worth
doing well.

Nothing then was left undone to ensure success.
Everything was "thought out" beforehand with

^ It was an unusual tribute to the interest excited in every
direction by the actor's personality, that 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 extra-
ordinary success was a proof of his merit. The opposition was
led by Mrs. Brooksbanks, who fairly and unsparingly attacked
the actor for his mannerisms and various defects. After a reply
from Miss Rees, the original motion was put to the ladies, and
was carried by a slender majority. The actor must have read
these proceedings, which were flattering enough, with much
enjoyment.

152 SIR HENRY IRVING

the greatest care and deliberation. The Ameri-
can 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.^ Further, with a view to making the
company thoroughly familiar with the repertoire,
for months beforehand a sort of continuous re-
hearsal went on before the regular Lyceum audi-
ences ; that is, all the stock-pieces were revived
one after the other, and performed with much care.
The honours and flatterinsf 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 compli-
ment 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

^ An idea of what a " tremendous " business this was may be
gathered from a single detail. A well-known experienced wig.
maker from Covent Garden, with two assistants, was engaged to
look after the coiffures of the company, and these "artists in
hair " had under their charge a collection of wigs, entirely new,
no fewer than eleven hundred in number. On a later visit there
were fifteen hundred !

TESTIMONIALS 153

profusely anointed, by critics and others, from a tub
filled with a composition labelled "butter." In
another the Prince of Wales is obsequiously pre-
senting an invitation, which the actor excuses
himself from accepting owing to " my many
engagements." The most famous portrait-painter
of the day begged to be allowed to paint his pic-
ture, which he wished to offer as a present to the
Garrick Club.' Rumours were busily circulated —
and contradicted — that a knighthood had been
offered and declined.

The public dinner at St. James's Hall was fixed
for July 4 — a compliment to the American people.
The list of stewards was truly extraordinary, com-
prising almost every one 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 appli-

' 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 IIL
They are not very striking performances, but they are refined
and interesting portraits. Mr. Whistler produced an extra-
ordinary 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. For this he gave me sittings in the year 1876, when he
was only 37. There is an ugly bust of him also done about this
time.

154 SIR HENRY IRVING

cants 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.' At this
banquet, beside the Chief Justice and the Lord
Chancellor of Ireland, there were five other judges
present, together with all that was distinguished in
the professions and arts.

The Chairman, in a thoughtful and studied
speech, delivered perhaps one of the best apologias
for the actor that is ever likely to be offered. The
skill and moderation of the accomplished advocate
was shown to perfection ; he did not adulate,
but gave the actor a graduated and judicious
measure of praise for all he had done in the
improvement in the general tone, morals, and
methods of the stage. Irving acknowledged these
compliments in grateful and heartfelt terms, ad-
dressed not so much to the diners present as to
the kingdom in creneral.

After these metropolitan honours, he passed to
Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Liverpool. At each city

' 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. Later, he was an assiduous
frequenter of the Lyceum, and in his eighty-third year was seen
in the stalls or behind the scenes, in a little special corner,
near the prompter's box, following the course of ' Henry VIII.'
with unabated interest.

FIRST PLAY IN AMERICA 155

he was greeted with complimentary banquets. At
Edinburgh he opened a new theatre, named in com-
pliment to his own, the Lyceum. He was invited
to Hawarden by Mr. Gladstone, and also to Knows-
ley by Lord Derby.

On October lo, 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, &c., had been
already shipped. The following day Irving and
Miss Terry embarked on board the White Star
liner, The Britannic. Up to the last moment
telegrams and letters containing good wishes (liter-
ally by hundreds) were being brought in. Even
while the vessel was detained at Oueenstown, the
Mayor and Corporation of Cork seized the oppor-
tunity of saluting him with a parting address. The
incidents have been all described by my friend
Mr. Joseph Hatton, who attended the party as
"historiographer"; and I may refer the reader to
his interesting volumes.

The visit was to prove one long triumph, and the
six months' progress a strange, wonderful phantas-
magoria of receptions, entertainments, hospitalities
of all kinds. Novel and original, too, were the
humours and fashions that greeted them every-
where, and the eyes of the two players must
have often turned back with pleasure to that odd
pantomime.

' The Bells ' was selected for his first perform-
ance, which was on October 29, 1883. Though
his reception was overpowering and tumultuous,

156 SIR HENRY IRVING

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 pro-
foundest impression. But when ' Louis XL' and
' Much Ado About Nothing ' were presented, all
doubts vanished. Such things were all probably
new to them. Miss Terry won all hearts ; her sym-
pathetic style and winsome ways made conquest of
every audience. It might be almost said that s/ie
was his loadstar. Nothinor 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 adven-
tures, is set forth fully in the story of the tour. But
it is only by consulting the American journals that
we can gather a notion of the odd "humours," often
grotesque, by which the American public displays
its enthusiastic approbation. I 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.

' These newspapers were sent to me without interruption
during all his tours by Irving's direction.

AMERICAN VISIT 157

'He has rung," said a newspaper, ''the knell of
gibbering Gosh ! " ^

The party remained in the country until the May
of the year following. The receipts exceeded every
forecast, a quarter of a million dollars having been
taken in the first four weeks. But the expenses
were enormous. The substantial profit was found
in Irving's securing a new, vast, and prominent
audience in the West ; in his winning the suffrages
of Americans abroad as well as of those at home,
who became his most fervent adherents.

The followinof is an amusingf scene. " Irvino- had
been invited to the Journalists' Club, and after the
close of the performance of ' Louis XI.,' the actor

' A description of a " first-night " at the Opera House is worth
quoting : —

" 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

158 SIR HENRY IRVING

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
gendemen. The guest of the evening then held
an informal reception.

" After he had said something pleasant to almost
every one, he volunteered to do his share towards
entertaining those present. It had been slighdy
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

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 grey
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."

AMERICAN VISIT 159

the serious to the comic. He recited, in a way
that provoked roars of laughter, the funny little
poem, 'Tommy's First Love.'

"When this was over there was a unanimous
shout, which lasted several minutes. It was a
loud cry for more. Mr. Irving expressed his will-
ingness 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 man-
agement,' he suggested. ' Can't we all sit down ? '
This was received with some merriment, as there
were few chairs in the room. Some one, however,
saw Mr. Irvine's idea that those in the front ranks
should sit upon the floor, and in a moment the four
foremost lines were kneeling upon the carpet.

" Mr. Irvinor then recited ' Eucrene Aram's
Dream.' The splendid elocutionary talents of the
actor kept the audience spellbound. Every emo-
tion, every pang of the schoolmaster was vividly
depicted by the expressive face of the tragedian.
The scene was a remarkable one. Mr. Irving
threw himself so earnestly into the character that
at one time he tore the white necktie fro7n his throat
without realising 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 recitation the motionless figures, some
standing, some sitting with crossed legs upon the
floor, became moving, enthusiastic men. Those
on their feet threw their arms into the air and

160 SIR HENRY IRVING

cheered as if for dear life, while those on the
floor bounded up simultaneously and expressed
their enthusiasm. It was some time before the
excitement subsided.

" ' I recited that once to a friend of mine,' said
Mr. Irving, after quiet had been restored, 'and
what do you think he said ? Why, he seriously
exclaimed : "There is one point in that story that
I'd like to know about. What became of the boy?'''
This anecdote produced a chorus of laughter.
After shaking hands all round, Mr. Irving went
downstairs and out, accompanied by the club's
officers. Before he left the room, ' Three cheers
for Mr. Irving ' were called for and given by
throats already hoarse with applauding him."

CHAPTER XII

1884

' TWELFTH NIGHT ' — ' THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD '

OXFORD HONOURS

ON July 8, 1884, a few weeks after the return
to London, 'Twelfth Night ' was brought
out at the Lyceum, and, for luxury of scenery,
dresses, and mounting, fully equalled all its pre-
decessors. Irving was, of course, the Malvolio,
which he rendered not exactly after Charles Lamb's
interpretation, but, indeed, as any one of Shake-
spearian intelligence would have done, never lapsing
into farce, but treating the whole earnestly. It was
a beautiful and graceful show, full of alternate sym-
pathy 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

12 161

162 SIR HENRY IRVING

the oppressive heat of a July night, which fretted
and put them out of humour ; but I believe because
they were unfamiliar with the piece, and had not
been " educated up to it." When the manager
came out at the close, with all the good-humour
and freedom of a privileged favourite, he was
confounded to find his expressions of self-con-
gratulation and satisfaction greeted with uncouth
denial and 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 inci-
dents ; and there must be broad, comprehensive
types of character. Now, Malvolio, one of the
most delicately exquisite of conceptions, it could
be seen, was quite unintelligible to "the general":
they took him for some "crank," or half-cracked
being, appearing in his nightcap, &c. 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-man-
nered section of the audience.

It was argued, indeed, by critics that Irving's

'TWELFTH NIGHT' 163

Malvolio was somewhat too much in earnest, and
therefore was Hable to be accepted by the audience
as a serious person, actually in love with his mis-
tress, and this, 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 " fan-
tastical " parts should hint to the audience, slily as
it were, that he is only half in earnest.

A most delightful sense of pure natural comedy
was induced by the likeness between the Terrys,
brother and sister, who had a sort of Shakespearian
elegance in their bearinc^. But this did not avail
much with the uncultured crowd. It was objected
also that the play was set forth somewhat pedanti-
cally and too much au grand sdrieux, many of the
actors, not being comedians — witness Mr. Terriss —
imparting a literal tone to all they said and did.
This was not without its effect on the audience,
who by the very promise of seriousness were
beguiled into expecting something serious. Irving
himself was not wholly free from this method ; and
in the strange scene of the imprisonment, so difficult
to "carry off," he was deeply tragic, as if really
suffering, and without any underlying grotesque-
ness. His exit, too, with solemn menaces, had the
air of retributive punishment in store.'

^ As the world knows, it was given with great effect and popu-
larity at His Majesty's Theatre. I am afraid, owing to extreme
farcical treatment, the judicious wondered and grieved as they
saw Malvolio enter, preceded by half a dozen serving-men

164 SIR HENRY IRVING

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 arrangements
of his house. It was announced that places in the
pit might be reserved and secured in advance, which
gave rise to indignant protest and to cries of " Give
us back our PUT The question was warmly dis-
cussed in the newspapers. The advantage of
the debate was that it clearly established a true
theatrical principle — viz., that 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 recog-
nised the public discontent, and made announce-
ment that on May i8th he would restore the old
custom.

In accordance with his engagement he now pro-
ceeded to get ready Wills's pleasing and sympa-
thetic drama, ' Olivia.' This was no doubt selected
with a view to furnishing a fresh opportunity for
the display of Miss Terry's magic attraction ; but
it will be seen that she was not to be altogether the
cynosure of the whole, and that two other accom-

stepping in time to a comic tune ! These were graduated in size
so as to produce due pantomimic effect. Mr. Tree, to receive
the ng, held out his long stick of office, on which it was made
to slide up to his hand !

Ikvini; as "'riii; \'i(AF(," AND Ei.i.EN Tkrkv as "Olivia.
J'lwto by Wtmloiv & Grove.

Til /dec p Ifi.T.

'THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD' 165

plished performers were to share the honours of
the piece. It was produced on May 27, 1885, and
excited much interest. The Vicar had been ad-
mirably performed by Vezin — on the old conven-
tional lines of the kindly but " heavy" father, and it
became interesting to contrast the two styles. The
creation of Dr. Primrose is one of the most de-
lightful and most oriofinal of Irvino-'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 was so filled in
and rounded with unspoken acting — that is, by the
play of facial expression, gesture, walk, &c. It
was, indeed, a delightful performance, and always
held the audience, which attentively followed the
Vicar's successive emotions. These the actor
allowed unconsciously, as it were, to escape him,
as he pursues his little domestic course unconscious
of spectators. One reason for this complete success
was, of course, that Irving, like so many others, had
read, known, and felt this engaging character from
his childhood, altogether outside dramatic condi-
tions, though of course it is not every play that
enjoys this advantage.

As we look back to the Lyceum, the eye rests
with infinite pleasure on the engaging figure of the
Vicar, with his powdered wig and rusted suit, and
that amiable smile of simplicity which betokened

166 SIR HENRY IRVING

what agreeable fancies were occupying his mind.
There was he. centre of a happy family, content
with the happiness of his wife and children. No
picture could have been prettier. With an exqui-
site feeling of propriety, the quaint, antique associa-
tions were developed, and no more pleasing scene
could have been conceived, nor one that lingers
more in the memory, than the scene at night, when
the family are singing at the spinet, Moses accom-
panying with his flute, ^ the Vicar in his chair, the
cuckoo-clock in the corner. It was a fine instinct
that directed these things.

It should be added that the piece had been some-
what 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. The
various characters are introduced with singular
skill. The last act seemed, indeed, somewhat super-
fluous and too much drawn out ; but the whole
design was really admirable.

This play of Wills's was always for me an
unsolved and most perplexing thing ; it is so work-
manlike, so artistic, so full of nature and admirable
character-drawing, that it seemed incredible it

' When the piece was first given at the Court Theatre there
was a bit of reaUsm that was almost too conscientious. The
httle family music was accompanied on a genuine old harpsi-
chord, 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.

Ir\ing as "The Vicar" in "Olivia.
Photo by VVindoii/ & Grove.

To face t> 107.

'THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD' 167

should have come from his hand. In his other
pieces there is a sort of incoherence, almost childish
at times, with an insistence on trivial points. Could
it be that some secret coadjutor helped him, or was
it some ingeniously adapted French play ^ If not,
it was a marvel, truly, and its author deserves
infinite credit.

It was poor Wills's fate to have alternating
**ups and downs" — reverses and triumphs — in his
playwriting. Two of his sensational pieces still
keep the stage, and are constantly travelling round
the country, to wit, ' Jane Shore ' and that capital
Napoleonic drama ' A Royal Divorce.' The suc-
cess of the latter he did not live to witness. I have
seen him, when he was writing to the actor's mea-
sure, take out an envelope on which he had scrib-
bled some half a dozen verses, and recite the same
to the great man, as part of an intended speech.
And, strange to say, the other listened with pleasure
and approbation.

Such tales as these — world-wide stories that
belong- to all countries and to all time — Shake-
spearian, 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 were indeed at their best here. In
the excellently-contrived scene at the " Dragon,"
Miss Terry's transition of horror, astonishment,
rage, shame, succeeding each other, were dis-

168 SIR HENRY IRVING

played with extraordinary force and variety. Some
insisted that the part suffered from her restlessness,
but, as it was happily said, " She is for ever flicker-
ing about the stage in a series of poses, or rather
disturbance of pose, each in itself so charming that
one can hardly account for the distrust she herself
shows of it by instantly changing it for another,"
The other characters were no less excellent in their
way. Terriss, as the Squire, was admirably suited,
his very defect — an excessively pronounced brusque-
ness — adding to the effect. It was said at the time
in the theatre that there was only the one performer
for Thornhill, and that one Terriss. He — and he
only — must be secured. He never performed so
well as in this character.

A year later there occurred what must have been
one of the most gratifying incidents in the actor's
career, and one of the most pleasant to recall. The
Oxford commencements, held on June 26, 1886,
were more than usually brilliant. At that time the
late learned and popular Dr. Jowett was Vice-
Chancellor, a man, as was 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 dis-
tinguished 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,

OXFORD HONOURS 169

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 cottp he contrived
that the very omission of the actor's name — like the
absence of one portrait from a series — should sug-
gest 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." It may
be conceived that the figure of the popular player
became the cynosure of attraction in the brilliant
academic show.

" For when the well-grac'd actor quits the scene,
The eyes of men are idly bent on him
That enters next."

When it became known that the actor was to
give his address, every one of note and culture and
importance in the place rushed to secure seats.
Some fourteen hundred persons were present, with
most of " the Heads of Houses," and distinguished
professors. Dr. Jowett welcomed him in some
warm and well-chosen phrases, telling him how
much honoured they felt by his coming to them.
A good English actor, he said happily enough,
lived in the best company — that of Goethe and
Shakespeare ; and, coming from such, he might
seem to convey that he was good enough company
for them.

But during the year 1892 the University of

170 SIR HENRY IRVING

Dublin was the first to recognise officially the
actor's position, and at the celebration of its ter-
centenary 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 Uni-
versity, 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 HI.,' a chapter of "David
Copperfield," and ' Eugene Aram.' An illumi-
nated address was presented to him, and to make
the day truly festive and collegiate, the actor dined
in the hall, the guest of the college, and went his
way covered with honours.

Later came the turn of Edinburgh, where he
was much considered, and in 1881 delivered a
lecture before the Edinburgh Philosophical Insti-
tute. He gave, also, an interesting lecture on
Acting at the Royal Institution in London. With
pleasure, too, must he have looked back to his
welcome at Harvard University. 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

'FAUST' 171

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 sub-
terranean passage. The president was in a con-
spicuous place, and all the professors and dons
attended. Another American University, that of
Cambridge, also invited him to lecture (rather to
give instruction) before them, and the newspapers
of the country declared that the honours with which
he was welcomed were really " unprecedented."
Ao^ain 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 profes-
sors 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 recog-
nition of a cultured and artistic feelino' that has
influenced the community and done excellent educa-
tional service.

Irving had long wished to display his sardonic
power in Goethe's great character of Mephis-
topheles. He had already given proof of his
quality in this line in Louis XI. and Richard III. ;
but there was the satirical piquancy and range in
Mephistopheles which naturally offered him an
attraction, from the mixture of the comic or gro-
tesque with deep tragic force. It also offered room
for a superb and almost unlimited display of scenic

172 SIR HENRY IRVING

magnificence. It was no secret, too, that in this
particular display he was resolved to surpass all his
previous efforts.

To Wills was entrusted the work of preparing
the adaptation, this writer having, as I said, a
command of flowing and melodious versification,
which, moreover, was fitted to the actor's delivery.
The adapter had completed his task many years
before, and the piece had long lain in the
manager's desk. During this period he let his
conception of the piece slowly ripen ; he discussed
it with scholars ; thought over it ; while the adapter,
a German student himself, revised his work at
intervals, according to the views of his chief All
this was judicious enough. It was, however, des-
tined to be one of the last works that he was to pre-
pare for his old friend and faithful Lyceum patron.
It must be said that the latest adapter was not alto-
gether well fitted for the task, as he was too much
given to descriptions and " recitations," while
Mephistopheles might have been made far more of.

The preparations made were of the most thorough
kind. For months the managrer's rooms were huno"
round with a profusion of sketches by artists of all
kinds, relics of Nuremberg and the Goethe country,
with old engravings of Albert Durer, and great
folios of costumes. To permeate himself with
something of the tone and feeling of the piece, he
travelled in Germany, accompanied by his scene-
painter, Mr. Craven. Both stayed at Nuremberg,
where the artist imbued himself with the whole
poetry of the old city. Every one of artistic feeling

'FAUST' 173

will recall one truly romantic scene — a simple cloth
set very forward on the scene, perhaps to its disad-
vantage — a view of the old city, with its dull red
high roofs and quaintly-peaked spires.

During the preparations, the theatre, now some
eighty years old, had been redecorated afresh, but
at the complete sacrifice of the old Vestris adorn-
ments, 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 abolished. For such changes
no one can be brought to account — the irre-
sistible pressure of the time and the laws of con-
venience 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 had always
shown himself careful.

On December 19, 1886, the piece was produced.
There was the now invariable excitement of a
Lyceum premiere, and there were stories of frantic
efforts, grovellings, implorings, &c., 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 of
Wales 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

174 SIR HENRY IRVING

successive performances he enriched it with innu-
merable telling and grotesque touches ; for, as I
have said, the adapter had " laid out " the character
on rather conventional lines. In spite of all these
defects, he suggested the notion of " uncanniness "
and a supernatural diablerie. His antic scaring of
the women at the church-door will be recalled by
many. Miss Terry's Marguerite was full of pathos
and poetry, occasionally suggesting, as in the
"Jewel" scene, the operatic heroine. But at the
first performance it became plain that a serious
mistake had been made in the choice of Conway
for the hero, Faust. He seemed scarcely to feel or
understand the part ; there was a lack of passion and
sympathy. It was, indeed, an overwhelming burden
for a player whose gifts lay in the direction of light
comedy.

But on one Saturday night the audience was
somewhat astonished to see before them a new
Faust, one who, moreover, came on with a book in
his hand, which he continued to read aloud even
after Mephisto had paid him his visit through the
steam clouds. It proved that Conway was suffer-
ing from gout, and Alexander, resigning his own
character to Tyars, took the role of Faust, which on
the following night he assumed permanendy, and
"discharged" in the regular way. Considering the
shortness of the notice, he performed this awkward
duty en vrai artiste — as, indeed, might be expected. ^

' It is but fair to add that Mr. Conway was suffering from
the approach of a serious illness, which declared itself shortly
after.

'FAUST' 175

However, the cast was further strengthened by the
excellent Mrs. Stirling, whose part was scarcely
worthy of her. Placing a strong performer in a part
that is inferior in strength, instead of improving
or fortifying, only further brings out the poverty
of the character.

In this piece numerous scientific devices were
introduced to add to the effect, such as the clouds of
steam which veiled the apparition of Mephistopheles,
a device of French origin. This is scarcely illusive,
as it is attended by an unmistakable "hissing"
sound, as of a locomotive ; it seems what it is —
namely, steam. The blue electric light flashed with
weird effect as the swords of Valentine and Faust
crossed. But here again there was an electric wire
and "contact," and a current "switched on." It
may be paradoxical to say so, but these "advances"
in scenic art are really retrograde steps.

Of the regular scenes or structures put on the
stage, it would be difficult to say too much. The
grandly-built porch of the Church of St. Lorentz
Platz at Nuremberg, and the buildings grouped
round it, were extraordinary works of construction,
the porch being "moulded" in all its details, and of
the real or natural size. Another scene that lingers
in the memory with a sort of twilight melancholy is
the garden scene, which again illustrated the ad-
mirable 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 har-
monise, and the deep sunset cast a melancholy glow

176 SIR HENRY IRVING

or tinge over all. The most striking effects were
contrived by changes of the lights and "mediums."

The Brocken scene, for its vastness and ambitious
attempt to suggest space and atmosphere, has never
been surpassed. Most people were struck by the
bewildering crowd of unearthly spirits, witches, and
demons, &c. ; but the real marvel was the simulation
of the chill mountain atmosphere, the air of dizziness,
of mists that hover over vast crevasses and depths,
and make one shiver to look at. The designing,
direction, and controlling of the elements in this
wonderful scene seemed a bewildering and gigantic
task.

The vision of Angels in the last act seemed a
little conventional. There were many objections,
too, taken mostly by Germans, to the treatment of
the great story, such as the fixing of the scene at
Nuremberg instead of at Leipsic, the placing the
drinking bout in the open air, and at the tavern
door, instead of in Auerbach's cellar. These changes
could not, of course, be justified, save on the ground
of theatrical expediency.

For seven months, though ' Faust ' continued to
attract vast houses, it had really, as the manager
said, "only started on its wild career." On the
occasion of Miss Terry's benefit, he made an in-
teresting, half-jocular speech announcing his plans.

The ninety-ninth night was celebrated in a
remarkable and somewhat appropriate fashion.
The venerable Abbe Liszt was at this time in
London, followed with an eager curiosity, affecting
even the "cabbies" with interest, who were heard

MKi'lIISTU.

'IHK AC'IOR.
[To face 'page 17/

THE ABBE LISZT 177

talkincr of the " Habby List." No one who had
seen him at this time will forget the striking per-
sonality 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 " March," and, being presently
recognised by the audience, the great virtuoso
received a perfect ovation. He followed the piece
throughout with singular interest, and applauded
with enthusiasm. After the play was over, he was
welcomed at a supper in the old Beef-steak dining-
room, where there were invited to meet him a
few distinguished persons. His favourite dishes —
"lentil pudding, lamb cutlets, mushrooms in batter"
— were prepared for him by Gunter's chef. He was
delighted with this delicate hospitality. This is one
of the many pleasant and dignified memories asso-
ciated with the Lyceum.

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. She has since " gone far,"
indeed. It was generally agreed that, considering
her resources, she had supplied the place of the
absent actress very well. The feti sacri was, of
course, not to be expected, and cannot be supplied
to order.

It was when ' Faust ' was being played that the
catastrophe of the burning of the French Opera

178 SIR HENRY IRVING

Comique occurred. This excited general sympathy,
and the kindly manager of the Lyceum promised
that when the proper time came he would furnish
assistance. In due course a performance of ' Faust'
was announced for the benefit of the sufferers, and a
crowded audience assembled. Every one concerned
— and they were to be counted by hundreds — gave
their services gratis — the manager behaved in his
own liberal style — and, as the result, a sum of ^419
was despatched to Paris. This liberality was much
appreciated by the French press. The Figaro de-
voted 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."
This appreciation of our manager-actor by the
French will naturally suggest the inquiry. What is
his reputation generally in that eminently theatrical
country, whence we draw our chief supply of dramas
and dramatic ideas, and whose school of acting is
perhaps the first in Europe ? So frequent have
been the visits of French companies to London,
that nearly all the leading performers have had
opportunities of seeing the English actor perform.
Their ignorance of the language has, of course,
stood in the way of a satisfactory judgment — they
cannot follow the play as an average Englishman
will follow a French piece ; but all have been struck
by his fine faculty of imparting colour and romance
to a character, and have broken into raptures over
the intelligence that directs the scene, and the lavish
magnificence of the spectacle.

VISIT OF THE FRENCH COMEDY 179

The memorable visit of the French Comedians 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 fin fieur of French critics,
Sarcey, Claretie (since become director of the com-
pany he had so often criticised), and others of less
note. These judges were glad to seize an oppor-
tunity, which under other circumstances they would
never have thought of seeking, of visiting the
Lyceum and witnessing the performances of the
most distinguished of English actors. I recall
Sarcey at this time, a coarsely-built man, with not
very refined features, lounging night after night into
his stall, with an air of something like arrogance.
He did not relish his enforced banishment from the
Boulevards, and indemnified himself by making
rather free criticisms on the French players. He
was induced to go and see some of the English per-
formances, but with an amusing hauteur pleaded his
ignorance of the language as an excuse for not
passing any serious judgment. He wrote :

" Havino- weighed the matter well, I have deter-
mined 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,

180 SIR HENRY IRVING

however, that Mr. Henry Irving appeared to me a
remarkable actor, notwithstanding a wilful tendency
to exaggeration. Possibly, in this latter respect, he
followed rather the taste of his audience, whom his
instinct judges, than his own deliberate choice."

To these brilliant and gifted strangers, however,
the new manager did the honours of his craft and
extended to them a kindly hospitality. Indeed,
since that day, no distinguished artist has visited
these shores without being welcomed with rare
hospitality.^

The most accomplished of French comedians is
Coquelin aind, an extraordinary performer, from the
versatility and even classical character of his talents.
This gifted man, who never appears without impart-

^ I recall a Sunday morning during this visit, when a message
arrived from the manager asking me to join a festive party to
Dorking, to which he had invited some members of the French
Comedy. At the Garrick Club, the favourite coach, " Old
Times," was waiting, and presently it was " Buzz ! — here come
the players." A delightful drive it was, and a truly enjoyable
day. There was Mounet Sully, the fervent stage lover — then, it
was whispered, the prey of a hopeless attachment to the gifted
"Sarah " — the spirituel Delaunay, still a Jeiine prejnier in spite of
his years ; with two or three others of the corps. Of the party
were also my friend Mr. Walter Pollock, with his genial, well-
cultured father, the late Sir Frederick ; Campbell Clarke, and
Mr. Bartlett, now Mr. Burdett-Coutts. 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 "a truly sympathetic personage, with a great deal of French
grace and bonhomie in his nature."

COQUELIN V. IRVING 181

ing intellectual enjoyment of the highest kind seems
to have always been attracted to the English actor,
though exhibiting his feelings in an oddly mixed
fashion, compounded of admiration and hostility.
Analysis of the workings of character is the most
entertaining of pastimes, and is, of course, the foun-
dation 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 obe-
dience to the very natural " force and pressure " of
gain which was beginning to dissolve the great
company of the French Comedy, he had begun to
"star it," as it is called, in the various capitals
of Europe, and having found himself appreciated in
London at private houses, as well as on the stage,
he seems to have nourished a feeling that he was
contending for the suffrages of the public with the
English actor ! Not that he was conscious of any
actual "jealousy," but something of this impression
was left on those who were watching the incident.
In matters of art, however, such contentions are
healthy, and pardonable enough.

An early token of this curious feeling was offered
in an article published in Harpers Magazine in
May, 1887, where the French actor discussed with
some acuteness the different systems of acting in
England and in France, particularly in the matter of
what is called " natural " or materialistic acting. He
dwelt on the question how far the gifts of the

182 SIR HENRY IRVING

comedian will enable him to exhibit tragic characters,
contending that the practice of minute observation
would materially aid him.

What was in Coquelin's thoughts all this time
would appear to have been a sort of eagerness to
measure himself with the English actor in ' Le Juif
Polonais,' which he looked upon as his own, and
which had made a reputation for Irving. With
some lack of taste or tact, Coquelin later challenged
an English audience to decide between the two
readings of Mathias. He performed it, I think, on
two different occasions. It was an interesting and
instructive experiment, for it proved that two artists
of eminence might legitimately take directly opposite
views of the same character. But does not character
in real life offer the same varieties of interpretation ?
Coquelin presented a sort of comfortable bourgeois,
a tradesman-like personage, who was not likely to
reach the heroic or melodramatic place. He was
not over-sensitive, nor was his remorse very poig-
nant ; and the keynote to his agitation was the
desire to be thought respectable, to keep his posi-
tion, 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 conscious-
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

CLARETIE 183

is that of his fears, and the arrival of the second
Jew, so Hke the first, terrifies him ; and too much
wine on the night of the wedding brings on the dis-
turbed dream." The question might be thus sum-
marised : Irving's reading was that of a tragedian ;
CoqueHn's that of a comedian. For myself, I
confess a liking for both.

A friendly and even enthusiastic appreciation of
the actor was furnished by Jules Claretie, then a
critic of eminence. "His reputation," he said,
" would be even greater than it is if he had the
leisure to extend his studies and correct his faults ;
but, as Mr. Walter Pollock remarks, a man who
has to play six or seven times a week can hardly be
expected to find much time for study. England,
unlike France, does not possess a national theatre.^

" * Richelieu ' was the first play in which I saw
Mr. Irving in London. Here he is superb. The
performance amounts to a resurrection. The great
Cardinal, lean, worn, eaten up with ambition, less
for himself than for France, is admirably rendered.
His gait is jerky, like that of a man shaken by
fever ; his eye has the depth of a visionary's ; a
hoarse cough preys upon that feeble frame. When
Richelieu appears in the midst of the courtiers, when

' Mr. Pollock had translated Diderot's curious and instructive
piece, in which is discussed so acutely the point whether an
actor should perform under actual, real emotion, or simulate
it. Irving held, in theory as in practice, that the actor must
train his feelings and exhibit them artificially, otherwise each
performance will be worse than the preceding. It has not been
noted that Bishop Butler's analysis of active and passive habits
helps to supply the solution.

184 SIR HENRY IRVING

he flings his scorn in the face of the mediocrity that
is to succeed him, when he suppHcates and adjures
the vacillating Louis XIIL, Mr, Irving endows that
fine figure with a striking majesty.

"What a profound artist this tragedian is! The
performance over, I was taken to see him in his
dressing-room. I found him surrounded by portraits
of Richelieu. He had before him the three studies
of Philippe de Champaigne, one representing
Richelieu in full face, and the others in profile.
There was also a photograph of the same painter's
full-length portrait of the Cardinal. Before playing
Louis XL again, Mr. Irving studied Commines,
Victor Hugo, Walter Scott, and all who have
written of the bourgeois and avaricious king, who
wore out the elbows of his pourpoint de ratine on the
tables of his gossips, the skin-dressers and shoe-
makers. The actor is an adept in the art of face-
painting, and attaches great importance to the
slightest details of his costume.

" I asked him what other historical personage he
would like to represent, what face he, who excelled
in what I call stage-resurrection, would wish to
revive. He reflected a moment, his countenance
assuming a thoughtful expression. ' Francais ou
Anglais ? ' he at length asked. ' Francais ou
Anglais: peu importe,' I replied. 'Eh bien ! ' he
said, after another short pause, 'je serais heureux
de crder un Camille Desmoulins.'

"Mr. Irving's literary and subtle mind leans to
psychological plays — plays which, if I may so
express myself, are more tragic than dramatic. He

CLARETIE ' 185

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,ooo 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 Comedie Francaise, as he would like to
found a sort of Conservatoire to afford young
English artists the instruction they stand so much
in need of.

"In Louis XI. Mr. Irving has been adjudged
superior to Ligier. Dressed with historical accuracy,
he is admirable in the comedy element of the piece
and the chief scenes with the Monk and Nemours.
The limelight projected like a ray of the moon on
his contracted face as he pleads for his life excited
nothing less than terror. The hands, lean and
crooked as those of a Harpagon — the fine hands
whose character is changed with each of his roles —
aid his words. And how striking in its realism is
the last scene, representing the struggle between
the dying king and his fate ! "

Another admirable French player. Got, once the
glory of the French Comedie, and unquestionably
the most powerful and varied performer of his day,
used to come a grood deal to London between the
years 1870 and 1880.

It was a singular tribute to Irving that so great
a player, in his day greater even than Coquelin,
should have been drawn from his retirement to take
up one of his characters. Got, the " Dean of the

186 SIR HENRY IRVING

French stage," as Irving is " Dean " of the English
theatre, by and by felt himself irresistibly impelled
to give his version of ' The Bells.' He induced a
Paris manager to draw forth the long-forgotten piece
from its obscurity, and presented Mathias very much
on the bourgeois lines of Coquelin.

CHAPTER XIII
1887

' FAUST ' ' WERNER ' ' MACAIRE ' THE ACTOR's

SOCIAL GIFTS

HE was now preparing for his third American
tour, the object of which was to introduce
to the audiences of the United States his splendid
spectacular piece, ' Faust.' This had excited much
interest and expectation, and its attractions were
even magnified by distance. It was the "last
word " in scenic display. The Americans had now
become a section, as it were, of the audiences,
and it would seem to be inevitable that at fixed
intervals, and when a series of striking plays
had 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. Hence-
forth the periodical visit to America became a
necessity ; a new visit was planned in concert
with Mr. Abbey, and fixed for 1893.

On the return of the company, after their United

1S7

188 SIR HENRY IRVING

States triumphs, * Faust ' was revived for a short
period. At the close of the first performance the
manager announced his plans, which were awaited
with some curiosity. " The devil," he said, " had
been to and fro on the face of the earth." After a
month of ' Faust,' he proposed to give Mr. Calmour's
' Amber Heart,' to bring forward Miss Terry, while
he himself was to conclude the evening with a
revival of 'Robert Macaire.'

On July I, 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
lent his theatre to benefit a veteran dramatist, Dr.
Westland Marston, who in his day had been asso-
ciated with the classical orlories of the stacje, and
had written the interesting ' Wife's Secret ' for
Charles Kean. As he now told the audience from
the stage, fifty years had elapsed since he had
written his first piece for Macready. The com-
mittee formed was a most influential one, and com-
prised the names of such eminent litterateurs as
Browning, Alfred Austin, E. W. Gosse, William
Black, Wilkie Collins, Gilbert, Swinburne, Tenny-
son, 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

MJlHtHTt/lKJlHu

{To Jacc pat,,' 188.

' WERNER '— ' MACAIRE ' 189

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 had rather dipenckmtt for these morosely gloomy
men, who stalk about the stage and deliver long and
remorseful reviews and retrospects of their lives.
Audiences, however, sympathise, and listen with
respectful attention.

' Werner ' was to illustrate once more the con-
scientious 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 " Stefan o della Bella" in 1630. So patiently
difficile was our manager in satisfying himself, that
it is said the dresses in ' Faust ' were made and
re-made three times before they were found satis-
factory. In this case all the arms of antique
pattern, the dresses, quaint head-dresses, and the
like, even down to the peculiar buttons of the
period, were made especially in Paris under
Auguste's superintendence.

'Robert Macaire,' that strange, almost weird-like
drama, was familiar enough to Irving, who had
occasionally played it in the early part of his course,
and also at the St. James's Theatre in 1867. For
all performers of genius who have taste for the mere
diablerie of acting, and the eccentric mixture of
traeic and comic, this character offers an attraction,

if not a fascination. We can feel its power our-
selves as we call up the grotesque figure ; nay,

190 SIR HENRY IRVING

even those who have never seen the piece can have
an understanding of the character, as a coherent
piece of grotesque. There is something of genius
in the contrasted and yet intimate union between
the eccentric pair. In June, 1883, there had been
a performance at the Lyceum for the Royal College
of Music, when Irving had played the character,
assisted by " friend Toole," Bancroft, Terriss, and
Miss Terry — certainly a strong cast. When the
piece was formally brought out, the part was allotted
to Mr. Weedon Grossmith, who was in the other
extreme, and too subordinate.

The play was produced in July, 1888, and was
found not so attractive as was anticipated. It
seemed as though it were not wholly intelligible to
the audience. There were some reasons for this,
the chief being the gruesome assassination at "the
roadside inn," which is old-fashioned, being literally
"played out." More curious was it to find that the
quaint type of Macaire seemed to convey nothing
very distinct. All accepted it as an incoherent
extravagance : which opens an interesting specula-
tion — 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? Lemaitre's extraordinary success was, as
is well known, the result of a happy inspiration
conceived during the progress of the piece. From
being a serious or tragic character, he turned it into
a grotesque one. There may have been here
something founded on the sort of gaminerie that
seems to go with crime ; or it may have been

'MAC AIRE' 191

a recklessness, which, together with ludicrous
attempts at a squalid dandyism, showed a mind
not only depraved, but dulled and embet^. This
sort of inspiration, where an actor sees his own
conception in the part and makes it his own, is
illustrated by ' The Bells,' which — in the hands of
another actor — might have been played according
to conventional laws. An English actor who
would have succeeded in the part was the elder
Robson. In Irving's case, the audience were not
in key, or in tune ; the thing seemed passe, though
our actor had all the traditions of the part, even to
the curiously "creaking snuff-box. "^

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 rather graceful verse 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

' This also seemed quite unintelligible to the audience ; but
its secret was the secret of the creator or originator of the part.
Such devices are really significant of something dramatic that has
actually prompted them ; they become an expression. The
revived "business," therefore, will not serve unless the original
spirit attends it. This squeaking snuff-box was a note of diablerie,
introduced with strange sudden spasms at unexpected moments,
and corresponded to the twitches and spasms of Macaire's mind.
For the manager I collected much of old Lemaitre's business,
and 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 when
" Pickwick " came out.

192 SIR HENRY IRVING

Messenger,' in which the graceful and sympathetic
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 matinde. It proved
to be a sort of dreamy Tennysonian poem, and
was received with considerable favour.

'The Amber Heart,' now placed in the bill with
' Robert Macaire,' was revived with the accustomed
Lyceum state and liberality. To Alexander was
allotted the hero's part, and he declaimed the
harmonious lines with good effect. But I fancy the
piece was found of rather too delicate a structure
for such large and imposing surroundings.^

Whenever there is some graceful act, a memorial
to a poet or player to be inaugurated, it was pretty
certain that our actor-manager would be called on
to take the leading and most disting^uished share in
the ceremonial. At the public meeting, or public
dinner, he deported himself with much effect.
There are plenty of persons of culture who have
been deputed to perform such duties ; but we feel
there is often something artificial in their methods
and speeches. In the case of the actor, we know

^ 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.

THE ACTOR'S SOCIAL GIFTS 193

that there is a something genuine ; he supplies a life
to the dry bones, and we depart knowing that he has
added grace to our recollections of the scene. Nor
does he 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 by
Mr. Onslow Ford was unveiled to Marlowe, the
dramatist, in the good old town of Canterbury. It
was an enjoyable expedition, with something simple
and rustic on the whole, while to any one 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 enter-
tained his guests and where there were more
speeches. The image of the sleepy old town, and
the grand Cathedral, and of the pretty litde fountain

194 SIR HENRY IRVING

— 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. With this little expedition I was later
destined to be associated in a more intimate way.
From lack of funds three of the four niches
were left unfilled, and I am at this moment
supplying figures of my own design and work-
manship to fill the spaces.

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 had been
hitherto eager to associate his name, in painted
windows and other ways, with distinguished Eng-
lishmen of bygone times. It may be suspected
that Childs's own 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. Irving took his part in this show.

Many a delightful night have his friends owed to
the thoughtful kindness and hospitality of their
interesting host. Such was, indeed, one of the
privileges of being his friend. The stage brings
with it abundance of pleasant associations ; but
there are a number of specially agreeable memories
bound up with the Lyceum. Few will forget the
visit of the Duke of Meiningen's company of
players to this country, which forms a landmark of

THE ACTOR'S SOCIAL GIFTS 195

extraordinary importance in the history of our
modern stage. With it came Barnay, that accom-
plished and romantic actor; and a wonderful instinct
of disciplining crowds, and making them express
the passions of the moment, as in Shakespeare's
'Julius Caesar.' 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.

It was 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 Beefsteak-room, 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
pledgings. Not until the furthest of the small hours
did we separate, indebted to our kindly, unaffected
host for yet one more delightful evening.

The manager once furnished a pleasantly piquant
afternoon's amusement for his friends on the stage

196 SIR HENRY IRVING

of his handsome theatre. Among those who have
done service to the stage is Mr. Walter Pollock,
lately editor of the Saturday Revieiv, 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
avtateurs enragds for armour and swordsmanship,
many of whom have fine collections of helmets,
hauberks, and blades of right Damascene and
Toledo.^ Mr. Egerton Castle and others of his
friends have written costly and elaborate works on
fencing, arms, and the practice of the arme blanche,
and at their meetings held 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, mediaeval,
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.

' 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."

SIR IIKNKV IK\1M; IX HIS I )R KSSl NC- KOdM Al' 'IHK l.V( KIM I' 1 1 ICATKE.

riiK KMcii'i' MK ■nil'; si'ack.

Drawn I'roiii l.ilo l>,v I'aiil JJcnouard.

[To face I'dfjc 197

THE ACTOR'S SOCIAL GIFTS 197

Irvincr often contributed his share to "benefits"
for his distressed brethren, as they are often
called. In the days when he was a simple actor
he took his part like the rest ; when he became
manager he would handsomely lend his theatre, and
actually "get up" the whole as though it were one
of his own pieces. This is the liberal, grand style
of conferring a favour.

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 perform-
ance 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
is held to be one of the most difficult in the whole
repertoire to interpret. It was the most extraordi-
nary, puzzling exhibition that could be conceived ;
utterly unlike all idea of Joseph Surface — in fact,
travelling off in lines totally opposed to any rational
conception of the character. It seemed that he
could make nothing of it. It was, in short, a
phenomenon. At the Belford benefit — Belford and
his services to the stage, such as they were, are
lonsf since forgotten — the all but enormous sum
of ;^i,ooo was received! For schools, charities,

198 SIR HENRY IRVING

convents even, and philanthropic work of all
kinds, some contribution from Henry Irving in the
shape of a recitation or scene was always looked
for.

Irving's vein of pleasantry was as welcome as it is
unpretentious. I have heard him at the General
Theatrical Fund dinner give the toast of " The
Army, Navy, and Reserve Forces," when he said,
"There is an Artists' Corps — I am curious to know
why there should not be an Actors' Corps. We are
accustomed to haiidle weapons'' On this occasion
"friend Toole "had to leave on duty ; "whose fine
Roman visage," said his friend, "has beamed on
us during dinner — he has been obliged to go away,
fortified, I hope, for his arduous labours, but he will
return — I know him well — and he will too, I am sure,
with a most excellent donation." He could tell a
story or relish a humorous situation with equal effect.
In company with Toole, he often contrived a droll
situation or comic adventure.^

' Once, when visiting Stratford-on-Avon with Toole, he saw a
rustic sitting on a fence, whom they submitted to an interroga-
tory. "That's Shakespeare's house, isn't it?" it was asked inno-
cently. "Ees." "Ever been there?" "Noa." "How long
has he been dead ? " " Dunno." " What did he do ? " " Dunno."
" Did he not write ? " " Oh yes, he did summat." " What was
it?" "Well, I think he writ Boible." A pleasantry that both
the players once contrived in Scotland, at the expense of an old
waiter at an hotel, is of a higher order of merit than such hoaxes
usually offer. At this country inn they had noted that the spoons,
forks, &c., 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

THE ACTOR'S SOCIAL GIFTS 199

At one period, when he was oppressed with hard
work, it was suggested to him that sleeping in the
country would be a great restorative after his
labours. He much fancied an old house and grounds
at Hammersmith, known as "The Grange"; and
having purchased it, he laid out a good deal of
money in improving and restoring it. It had nice
old gardens, with summer-house, a good staircase,
and some old panelled rooms.

To a man with such social tastes, the journey
down and the night spent there must have been
banishment, or perhaps was found too troublesome.
Literary men, artists, and the like do not much relish
these tranquil pleasures, though practical men of
business do. Most will agree, I am certain, that
they leave Fleet Street and the Strand with reluc-
tance and return to it with pleasure. After a few
years he was anxious to be rid of what was only a

ground, and hid themselves in the shrubbery. The old man
re-entered : they heard his cries of rage and astonishment at the
robbery, and at the disappearance of the supposed thieves. He
then rushed from the room to summon the household. The rest
of the story is worth giving in Irving's words, as reported by Mr.
Hatton. " We all crept back to the room, closed the window,
drew down the blind, relighted the gas and our cigars, put each
piece of silver back into its proper place, and sat down to wait for
our bill. In a few minutes we heard evidently the entire
household coming pell-mell to the dining-room. Then our door
was flung open ; but the crowd, instead of rushing in upon us,
suddenly paused en masse, and Sandy exclaimed, ' Great God !
Weel, weel ! Hae I just gane clean daft ? '

"'Come awa', drunken foo', come awa' ! ' exclaimed the
landlord, pulling Sandy and the rest back into the passage and
shutting the door."

200 SIR HENRY IRVING

useless toy, and it was offered for sale for, I think,
^4,000.1

^ Quite a number of relics of great actors have, as we have
already shown, found their way to Irving's custody. Thus on his
visit to Oxford he had spoken of the last days of Edmund Kean.
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 combination.
" 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 ? " At the recent sale of his effects there were
seen a vast number of these memorials.

CHAPTER XIV

1888

' MACBETH ' ' THE DEAD HEART ' ' RAVENSWOOD '

THE approach of the opening night of ' Mac-
beth' — its second revival by our actor — caused
more excitement than perhaps any of the Lyceum
productions. There was a sort of fever of expect-
ancy ; 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.* The scenery
was to be vast, solid, and monumental. It was no
surprise when it was learned that before the day of

^ One of these many " snappers-up of trifies " 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. Sargent,

formed a striking but not very pleasing portrait.

201

202 SIR HENRY IRVING

performance some ;!^ 2,000 had been paid for seats
at the box-office.

While allowing due praise to the accomplishments
and sagacity of our dramatic critics, I confess to
looking with some distrust and alarm at a sort of
"new criticism" which, like the so-called "new
humour," has developed in these latter days. This
amounts to the assumption of an aggressive person-
ality — 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 dis-
played is often ludicrous enough. The instances,
however, are fortunately rare.

Produced on December 29th, the play caused con-
siderable excitement among Shakespearian students
and "constant readers" ; and Miss Terry's reading
— or rather the appearance of Miss Terry in the
part — produced much vehement controversy. We
had " The Real Macbeth " in the Daily Telegraph,
with the usual "old playgoers" who had seen Mrs.
Charles Kean. I fancy there were but three or four
persons who were able to compare the performance
of Miss Terry with that of Mrs. Siddons — about
sixty years before.^

' It was likely that the majority of these persons were incapa-
citated 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.

'MACBETH' 203

Banquo's ghost has always been the difficulty
in every presentation of the play ; all modern
apparitions and phantasmagorian effects neutralise
or destroy themselves. The powerful light behind
exhibits the figure through the gauzes, but to pro-
cure this effect the lights in front must be lowered
or darkened. This gives notice in clumsy fashion
of what is coming, and prepares us for the ghost.

" New and original " readings rarely seem accept-
able, and, indeed, are scarcely ever welcomed by
the public, who have their old favourite lines to
which they are well accustomed. We never hear one
of these novelties without an effect being left as of
something "purely fantastical," as Elia has it, and
invariably they seem unacceptable and forced, pro-
ducing surprise rather than pleasure. Irving rarely
introduced these changes. A curious one in
' Macbeth ' was the alteration of a line —

mto

" She should have died hereafter,"
" She would have died hereafter."

Fladgate of the Garrick Club, a most interesting man, well stored
with anecdotes of Kemble, Kean, and others, who, 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.
A most characteristic incident was a letter from the veteran Mrs.
Keeley, with much generous criticism of Miss Terry's perform-
ance, 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 per-
former 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.

204 SIR HENRY IRVING

That is a sort of careless dismissal of his wife's
death, as something that must have occurred, accord-
ing to the common lot. But who could condone the
strange reading of the passage, " What, if we fail,"
&c., to which Miss Terry, in a light, pleasant way
replied, " We fail " ; in other words, "Why, we fail —
that's all " ? The true, obvious meaning being " We
fail ! " a thing" not to be thought of. 1 1 seems incredible
that Irving should have conceived such a reading.

The irresolution and generally dejected tone of
the Scottish King, as presented by the actor, was
much criticised, and severely too. There was some-
thing " craven," it was said, in this constant faltering
and shrinking. This, however, was the actor's con-
scientious " reading " of the part : he was not bound
by the Kemble or Macready traditions, but irre-
sistibly impelled to adopt the highly -coloured
"romantic" view of our day. He made it
interesting and picturesque, and, in parts, forcible.
When, later, he gave readings of the play, his
conception had become firm and matured — it was
a very interesting and thoughtful performance.
Miss Terry's Lady Macbeth filled every one with
wonder and admiration ; as in the case of her
Queen Katharine, 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. ^

' Charles Reade's strange, odd appreciation of this gifted,
mercurial woman is worth preserving : —

" Ellen Terry is an enigma. Her eyes are pale, her nose

'MACBETH' 205

The pictures set forth in this wonderful represen-
tation linger in the memory. The gloomy Scottish
scenes, the castles and their halls, the fine spread-
ing landscapes, the treatment of the witches, and
Banquo's ghost, were all but perfect in tone, and
were treated with a judicious reserve. There was
nothing overdone. How admirably and exactly,
for instance, did the scene correspond to the beauti-
ful lines : —

" This castle hath a pleasant seat ; the air
Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself."

There painting and poetry went together! The
banqueting-hall, the arrangement of the tables, at
right angles with the audience, had a strange,
barbaric effect, the guests being disposed in the
most natural and unceremonious fashion.

After the run of ' Macbeth ' had ceased, the
manager proceeded to carry out a plan which had
long been in his thoughts, and which many had

rather long, her mouth nothing particular, complexion a delicate
brick-dust, her hair rather like tow. Yet, somehow, she is beauti-
ful. Her expression kills any pretty face you see beside her. Her
figure is lean and bony, her hand masculine in size and form.
Yet she is a pattern of fawn-like grace. Whether in movement
or repose, grace pervades the hussy. In character impulsive,
intelligent, weak, hysterical — in short, all that is abominable and
charming in woman. Ellen Terry is a very charming actress.
I see through and through her. Yet she pleases me all the same.
Little Duck ! "

This suggests the old rhyme : —

"Thou hast so many pleasing, teazing ways about thee,
There's no living with thee or without thee."

206 SIR HENRY IRVING

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, and which, it is clear, were already
straining his resources. For here is the penalty of
this sort of dram drinkingf — the dose must be made
strono^er with each successive draucrht. We found
ourselves gazing vacantly on some gorgeous and
elaborate display which had cost time, labour,
and money, but which did not excel previous
efforts. All expected, as of right, that he would
"go one better." One could fancy that nothing
cGvuld be more attractive than such " readings," the
interest in the personality of the two great per-
formers being so generally diffused. He rearranged
' Macbeth ' for this purpose, and set off on a tour
in the provinces. But though everywhere well re-
ceived, I think the plan did not command the full
success that was expected. There was a defect
somehow in the plan : two characters seemed to rob
the performance of that unity which is the charm
of a reading. Further, it was illustrated by the fine
music, with orchestra, &c., and this again disturbed
the natural simplicity of a reading. The actor's own
vividly-coloured imagination and tastes could not, in
fact, be content with the bald and triste mechanisms
of the ordinary reader : he tried to impart what
ornamentation he could. The experiment was not,
however, carried out very long.'^

' It was interesting to note, at a St. James's Hall performance,
June 25th, the pleasant, eager vivacity of the actress, who, familiar

'THE DEAD HEART' 207

Some thirty years before, in the old Adelphi
days, when "Ben" Webster was ruHng, a drama
was produced, the work of a hard-working, drudging
dramatist, Watts Phillips. It was a pure melodrama,
and people had not yet lost their faith in the old
devices. There was an honest belief that villainy
would be punished ere the end came. By the laws
of such pieces, the most painful situations were
always contrasted with scenes of broadest farce,
which were supposed to relieve the excited feelings.
I well recall these humours. On the revival, how-
ever, all this was softened away or abolished, and,
I fancy, not without injury to the constitution of
the old piece.

This production of ' The Dead Heart ' furnished
one more instance of the tact and abilities which
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, enriched
it, brought the whole into harmony with the
times, and, by the skilful remaniejnent o^ Vir. Walter
Pollock, imparted to it a romantic grace. It is
admitted that he himself has rarely been fitted with

as she was with the play, seemed to be repeating with her Hps
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, sometime^ giving them the signal.
This very natural behaviour interested every one.

208 SIR HENRY IRVING

a part so suited to his genius and capacities, or In
which he has roused the sympathies of his audience
more thoroughly. It is only the romantic actor
that understands what might be called the key of
a play.

In this picturesque part of Robert Landry were
exhibited no fewer than four contrasted phases of
character : the gay, hopeful young artist ; the
terribly metamorphosed prisoner of nearly twenty
years ; the recently delivered man, newly restored
to the enjoyment of life ; and, lastly, the grim revo-
lutionary chief, full of stern purpose of vengeance.
This offered an opening for the display of versatile
gifts, which were certainly brought out in the most
strikinof 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 stern a purpose in view, will be disdain-
ful of speech, and oppressed, as it were, with his
terrible design. Quiet, condensed purpose, with-
out any " fiendish " emphasis, was never better
suggested. Even when the drop-scene is raised,
and he is revealed standing by his table, there Is the
same morose, unrelenting air, with an impression
that here was one who had just passed through the
fire, and had been executing an act of vengeance
which had left its mark.

In a drama like ' The Dead Heart,' music forms
a fitting accompaniment, furnishing colour and ap-

'RAVENSWOOD' 209

propriate illustration. It is almost uninterrupted
from beginning to end. M. Jacobi, of the Alhambra,
furnished some effective, richly-coloured strains,
alternately gay and lugubrious. More, however,
might have been made of the stirring " Marseillaise,"
which could have been treated in various disguises
and patterns as a sort of Leitmotiv, much as Litolf
has done in his symphonic w^ork on the same sub-
ject. It was a strange coincidence that Dickens
was writing his " Tale of Two Cities" at the time
the dramatist was busy with his work. There were
the same incidents and the S2>.m.& finale, and charges
of plagiarism were freely made. ^

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 writer's
grotesque pieces, ' The Don,' and others — to
which, indeed, the author's wife had contributed
some share.

The new piece, which was called ' Ravens wood,'
had lain long in the manager's cabinet, where

^ This incident will be found discussed in my " Life of
Dickens."

210 SIR HENRY IRVING

reposed a number of other MSS., "commanded"
and already purchased, from the pens of Wills,
Calmour, 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 accept-
ance with an awkward a propos.^ There is a
character, indeed, in one of Boz's early stories, in
which, as the tradition runs, Irving formerly made
almost as deep an impression as in 'The Bells.'
This was Bill Sikes, and we can conceive what
a savagery he would have imparted to it. It

' 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 absorb-
ing 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 Wills was often 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 was ' Coriolanus,' for which Mr. Alma
Tadema designed scenery, and which was at last produced a few
years before the manager's death.

'RAYENSWOOD' 211

would seem to be exactly suited to his powers
and to his special style ; though, of course, here
there would be a suCT^estion of Dubosc. With Miss
Terry as Nancy here would have been opened a
realm of squalid melodrama, and " Raquin-like "
horrors.

There are other effective pieces which seemed to
invite the performance of this accomplished pair.
Such, for instance, is the pathetic, heartrending
'Venice Preserved.' Though there mig^ht be a
temptation here for the scenic artist — since Venice,
and its costumes, &c., would stifle the simple pathos
of the drama. ' The Taminof of the Shrew ' had
been often suggested and often thought of, but it
had been effectively done at this theatre by another
company. 'The Jealous Wife' — Mr. and Mrs.
Oakley — would also have suited well. There was
' The Winter's Tale,' and finally ' Three Weeks
after Marriage ' — one of the most diverting pieces
of farcical comedy that can be conceived.

' Ravenswood ' was produced on September 20,
1890. While its scenes were being unfolded before
us one could not but feel the general weakness of
the literary structure, which was unequal to the
rich and costly setting ; neither did it correspond
to the broad and limpid texture of the original
story. It was unfortunately cast, as I venture to
think. Mackintosh, who performed Caleb, was
somewhat artificial; while Ashton/6V-'^ and his lady,
rendered by Bishop and Miss Le Thiere, could
hardly be taken au sdrieux. Irving infused a deep
and gloomy pathos into his part, and Miss Terry

212 SIR HENRY IRVING

was, as ever, interesting, touching, and charming.
But the characters, as was the story, were Httle
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 Ravens-
wood has come for the entombment of his father,
and is interrupted by the arrival of his enemy,
Ashton. The weird-like last scene, the " Kelpie
Sands," with the cloak lying on the place of dis-
appearance, 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 great 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.

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 VI II.'
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
consolinsf fumes of his ciofar 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 unquestion-
ably a "large" and splendid setting of the play,
which, to my mind, whatever be the value of the

'HENRY VIIi; 213

opinion, is certainly one of the finest, most finished,
most poetical, and sufficient of the many works
that he set before us." There was a greater Shake-
spearian 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 had supplied an ease and boldness in his
effects. To appreciate this excellence we have
only to turn to similar attempts made by others,
whether managers or manager-actors, or manager-
authors — when we find only the conventional ex-
ertion of the scene-painter and stage-manager.
They have not the same inspiration.

This play, produced on January 5, 1892, was
received with great enthusiasm. It became "a

^ An American lady, a Californian artist, was the first to enter
tlie pit for the opening performance of ' Henry VIII.' at the
Lyceum. " I and a friend went with our camp-stools and took
our places next the door at ten o'clock in the morning. We were
provided with a volume of Harper^s Magazine^ a sketch-book,
writing-paper, and a fountain-pen, caricatures of Henry Irving,
and much patience. A newspaper spread under the feet and a
Japanese muff warmer, with sandwiches and a bottle of wine,
kept us comfortable. Two ladies were the next comers, and
shortly a crowd began to collect. Real amusing it was, but not
very elegant. After about two hours Mr. Bram Stoker came and
had a look at us, and cheered our hearts by telling us that tea
would be served from the neighbouring saloon (public-house).
At last, at seven o'clock, we were rewarded for our patience by
getting seats in the front row. The play was superb, and the
audience — well, every one looked as if he had done something."

214 SIR HENRY IRVING

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 Katharine, gradually developed and worked out,
we had surely a story sufficiently interesting.

I have little doubt that Irving kept steadily in
view the object the great author had before him,
viz., to present a page of history enriched by all
the suitable accompaniments of dress and manners
and customs. In this he was perfectly and trium-
phantly successful. We were taken into the great
chambers and tribunals ; shown the ecclesiastical
pomp and state, so difficult to conceive of now ; the
processions passing through the streets, and pre-
sented in an exceedingly natural and unconven-
tional fashion.^ The drama was set forth fully,
with every adjunct of dress, furniture, scenes, and
numbers of auxiliaries.

The scenery, offering wonderful perspectives of

^ 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, warn-
ing those whom it might concern to make way for their high
and puissant lord.

Irving as "Cardinal Wolsev."
Photo by W. & D. Downey, 57 Ebury St., SAV.

To face p. 21-1

'HENRY VIII.' 215

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.^ These,
too, seemed to acquire new force from the arrange-
ment of the " Trial Scene," as it was called, which
displayed a great hall with the dais, seats for the
Cardinal, the King, 8lc. This was, of course, only
of the size of the stage — about a third, perhaps,
of the original. 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.^

* It was publicly stated that the " mounting " of this play had
cost ;^i 5,000, and that the weekly expenses were some ;^8oo.
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.

' 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

216 SIR HENRY IRVING

When we consider what are the traditions of the
two great characters, how vivid they are, from the
deep impressions left by the great brother and sister
on their contemporaries — an impression which has
really extended to our time — too much praise could
hardly be given to the performance of Irving and
his gifted companion. Irving's Wolsey was exactly
what those familiar with his other impersonations
could anticipate — poetical, elegant, and in many
portions powerful. He was the Churchman to
perfection, carrying his robes admirably ; in the
face there was a suggestion of the late departed
Cardinal Manning. All through the piece there
was that picturesque acting which fills the eye, not
the ear, at the moment when speech is at rest. It
is thus that are confuted those theorists, including
Elia, who hold that Shakespeare is to be read, not
acted.

It is, perhaps, the power of suggestion and of

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 mini-
mum time. ' Henry VIIL' 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 en-
tirety." As a fact, very nearly one-half the play disappears
from the modern acting copies. My friend, Mr. W. Pollock,
in a paper in the National Review, has justly urged in this
connection that half a ' Hamlet ' is better than no ' Hamlet '
at all.

•HENRY VIII.' 217

stirring our imagination that brings about this air
of fulness and richness. Irving, when he was not
speaking, acted the pomp and state and consum-
mately depicted the smoothness of the Cardinal.
When he was lost to view you felt the application
of the oft-quoted line touching the absence of " the
well-ofrac'd " actor from the scene ; and it was won-
derful to think, as we glanced round the brilliant
salle — glittering with its vast crowd of well-dressed,
even jewelled, women ("Quite an opera pit!" as
Ellison would say) — to the fine stage before us,
with its showy figures, pictures, and pageants,
that all this was his work and of his creation !

There were many diverse criticisms on Irving's
conception of this famous character ; some held that
it was scarcely " large," rude, or overbearing enough.
His view, however, as carried out, seemed natural
and consistent. The actor wished to exhibit the
character as completely overwhelmed by adverse
fortune ; witness Macbeth, Othello, and many other
characters. In the last great soliloquy it was urged
there was a want of variety. Still, allowing for all
traditional defects, it stands beyond contradiction
that it was a "romantic" performance, marked by
"distinction," and a fine grace ; far superior to the
thin theatrical clericalism of " Becket " ; 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 Church-

218 SIR HENRY IRVING

man revealed ; he was not, as was the case with so
many others, a performer robed in clerical garb.

Of Miss Terry's Queen Katharine, it can be said
that it was an astonishing performance, and took
even her admirers by surprise. She made the same
almost gigantic effort as she did in ' Macbeth ' to
interpret a vast character, one that might have
seemed beyond her strength, physical as well
as mental. By sheer force of will and genius
she contrived to triumph. It was not, of course, the
great Queen Katharine of Mrs. Siddons, nor did she
awe and command all about her ; but such earnest-
ness and reality and dramatic power did she impart
to the character that she seemed to supply the
absence of greater gifts. Her performance at the
Court and other scenes of the persecuted, hunted
woman, now irritated, now resigned, was truly
pathetic and realistic. There may have been
absent the overpowering, queen-like dignity, the
state and heroism, but it was impossible to resist
her — it was her *' way," and by this way she gained
all hearts. It must be confessed that nothing ever
supplied such an idea of the talents and " cleverness "
of this truly brilliant woman as her victory over the
tremendous difficulties of these parts. The per-
formance won her the sympathies of all in an
extraordinary degree.

So admirably had our manager been penetrated
with the spirit of the scenes, that he was enabled to
present them in a natural and convincing way, and
seemed to revive the whole historic time and mean-
ing of the situation. This was particularly shown

'HENRY VIIL' 219

in the scene when Buckingham is led to execution ;
his address to the crowd was dehvered 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 enter-
ing the boat, stopped for a moment to address to
sympathisers who met him on the way.

The music, the work of a young composer, Mr.
Edward German, was truly romantic and expressive ;
stately and richly-coloured. How wonderful, by the
way, is the progress made of late years in theatrical
music ! We have now a group of composers who
expend their talents and elegancies in the adorn-
ment of the stas^e. The flowinor melodies and
stately marches of the Lyceum music still linger in
the ear, while portions, such as the dances, &c.,
have become stock pieces for orchestras.

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 sur-
geon, 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.

CHAPTER XV

1892

' KING LEAR ' — ' BECKET '

AFTER presenting so many of Shakespeare's
great dramas, it was to be expected that the
manager could not well pass by what has been
justly styled the Titanic play of ' King Lear.' This
had, indeed, always been in his thoughts ; but he
naturally shrank from the tremendous burden and
physical strain that 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 emphasised.
It is only when we compare the ambitious attempts
of other managers who would indulge in effects

320

'KING LEAR' 221

equally lavish and sumptuous, that we recognise the
ability, ease, reserve and force of the Lyceum
manager. I They, too, will have their "archaeology "
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 supernu-
merary. The secret is the perfect subordination of
such details to the general effect. They should be,
like the figures on a tapestry, indistinct, but effective
as a background. Charles Lamb's well-worn dictum,
that ' Lear ' should never be acted, was trotted forth
in every criticism. There is some truth in this
exaggerated judgment, because it can never be
adequately presented, and the performance must
always fall short of the original grandeur. With his
remarks on the pettiness of the stage-storm, one
would be inclined to agree, even on this occasion,
when every art was exhausted to convey the notion
of the turmoil of the elements. The truth is, an
audience sitting in the stalls and boxes will never be
seduced into accepting the rollings and crashings of
cannon-balls aloft, and the flashing of lycopodium,
as suggesting the awful warring of the elements.
' King Lear ' was brought forward on Thursday,

^ To illustrate his most recent productions, the manager was
accustomed to issue what is called "a souvenir," an artistic series
of pictures of the scenes, groupings, &c. 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.

222 SIR HENRY IRVING

November lo, 1892, and its presentation was a truly
romantic one. The figure had little of the usual
repulsive aspects of age — the clumsy white beard,
&c. — 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 had to be secured by delibera-
tion, and at some loss of effect. The actor's extra-
ordinary 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 lugu-
brious tone of the character ; the uninterrupted
sequence of horrors and distresses led to a feeling of
monotony difficult for the actor to vanquish. The
public never takes very cordially to pieces in which
there is this sustained misery, though it can relish
the alternations of poignant tragedy attended by
quick dramatic changes. Cordelia, though a small
part, was made prominent by much touching pathos

TENNYSON 223

and grace, and the dying recognition by the old
King brought tears to many eyes.^

An interesting feature in Irving's career had been
his long friendship with Tennyson, poet and drama-
tist, which lasted for some fifteen or sixteen years.
The actor had shown his appreciation of the poet's
gifts by the rather hazardous experiment of present-
ing 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
realisation of the grim Philip.^

The poet, however, made little allowance for the
exigencies of the stage. During the preparation of
' The Cup,' he contended eagerly for the retention
of long speeches and scenes, which would have
shipwrecked the piece. Yet, undramatic as most of
his dramas are, a taste for them was springing up,
and not long before his death he had the gratification
of knowing that his ' Foresters ' had met with

' 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.

^ As I write, Whistler's portrait of him in this character — a
picture, dark, misty and colourless — was sold for over ^3,000.

224 SIR HENRY IRVING

surprising success in America. No less than six
pieces of his have been produced, and though the
idea prevails that he has been "a failure" as a
dramatist, it will be found that on the whole he has
been successful. It may be that by and by he will
be in higher favour. But he will have owed much
to Irving, not merely for presenting his plays with
every advantage, but for putting them into fitting
shape, with firm, unerring touch removing all that
is superfluous.

So far back as the year 1879 the poet had placed
in Irving's hands a drama on the subject of Becket
and the fair Rosamund. It was really a poem of
moderate length, though in form a drama, and the
actor naturally shrank from the difficulties of dealing
with such a piece. The " pruning knife " would here
have been of little avail; the axe or "chopper"
would have to be used unsparingly. The piece was
accordingly laid aside for that long period ; the
lamented death of the poet probably removed the
chief obstacle to its production.^ It was repeated,
indeed, that almost one-half was cut away before it
could be put in shape for performance. On Monday,
February 6, 1893 — ^^ actor's birthday — this posthu-
mous piece was brought out with every advantage,
and before an assemblasfe 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

^ It has been said however, that the poet learned on his
death-bed of the actor's intentions.

' BECKET ' 225

ecclesiastics in his repertoire — Richelieu, Wolsey,
and Becket ; but, as he pleasantly said, he could
contrast with these an English clergyman, the
worthy Dr. Primrose, Vicar of Wakefield. Yet he
admirably and dramatically distinguished their
several characters.

There is always a curiosity to have the curtain
lifted, so that we may have a glimpse of a play in
the throes and troubles of rehearsal. A writer
in one of the magazines gave a very dramatic
sketch of how thing^s were conducted during- the
preparation of ' Becket ' : —

" After Mr. Irving has grouped the men on the
benches, he steps back and looks at the table. 'We
ought to have on it some kind of mace or crozier,'
he says — ' a large crozier. Now for the " make-up."
All the barons and every one who has a moustache
must wear a small beard. All the gentlemen who
have no beards remain unshaven. All the
priests and bishops are unshaven. The mob can
have slight beards, but this is unimportant. Now,
take off your hats, gentlemen, please. Some of you
must be old, some young. Hair very short;' and
he passes from group to group selecting the different
people. ' Now, I think that is all understood pretty
well. Where are the sketches for dresses .^ '

" The sketches are brought, and he goes carefully
through them. Miss Terry and Mr. Terriss also
look over the big white sheets of paper. The fox-
terrier strolls up to the group, gives a glance at
them, and walks back again to Miss Terry's chair
with a slighdy cynical look. Then Mr. Irving

226 SIR HENRY 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 pro-
miscuously, but three or four of you together. Try
to put a little action into it. I want you to show
your arms, and not to keep them glued to your sides
like trussed fowls. No ; that isn't half enough
action. Don't be frightened. Better make too
much noise rather than too little, but don't stop too
suddenly. Start arguing when I ring the first bell.
As I ring the second bell, you see me enter, and
stop.' The dog stands one bell, but the second
annoys him, and he disappears from the stage
altogether, until the people on the benches have
finished their discussion.

" Mr. Irving next tries the three-cornered stools
which are placed around the table, but prefers
square ones. The dog returns, walks over to the
orchestra, looks vainly for a rat, and retreats under
the table in the centre of the stage as if things were
getting really too much for him. But his resting-
place is ill-chosen, for presently half a dozen angry
lords jump on the table, and he is driven forth once
more. After a stormy scene with the lords, Mr.
Irving walks up the steps again. ' When I say " I
depart," you must let me get up the steps. All this
time your pent-up anger is waiting to burst out sud-
denly. Don't go to sleep over it' He looks at the
table in the centre of the stage, and turns to a car-
penter. 'This table will never do. It has to be
jumped on by so many people that it must be

[I>,-aini I'll C. .1. Iltichrl.

iu\im; as " HKCKi'.r.''

Jl'o fiicc I'dije 226.

' BECKET * 227

very strong. They follow me.' (To Miss Terry)
' They'd better catch hold of me, up the steps here.'

" Miss Terry : ' They must do something. They
can't stand holding you like that.'

"Mr. Irving: 'No.' The door opens suddenly
at top of steps, and discovers the crowd, who
shout, ' Blessed is he that cometh in the name of
the Lord.'

"The doors open and the crowd shout, but the
effect is not good.

" Miss Terry : ' It would be better if it were done
at the foot of the steps. The people needn't show
their faces as they do it, and the effect will be so
much better.'" ' Becket ' contained thirty charac-
ters, 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 associ-
ated with the poet.

Never had 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, &c. — points
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 had
the art of moulding his features and expression to
the complexion of the character he was performing
nightly. Thus, in ' Becket,' it could be seen that

228 SIR HENRY IRVING

he had already assumed the meditative, wary look
of the aspiring- ecclesiastic.

It is evidence of the interest excited by ' Becket,'
that a little discussion arose between a Benedictine
Father and another ecclesiastic on the hymn, "Tel-
luris 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-classifica-
tion "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 mmutiiB 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, did the
fame of our manager's efforts reach !

One of the most remarkable things connected
with ' Becket ' was the unanimous applause and
approbation of the entire press. ^ Even one or two

' On March i8, 1893, Irving and his whole company were
bidden to Windsor Castle to play 'Becket ' before her late 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

Irving Reading Tennyson's ' Beckf.t "

IN THE R^;ST()REI) C H AfTE R-Hol'SV. OE CaNTERULRY CaTHEHRAI

Drawn by S. Be^n.

r<,f<!ccp. 22S.

'BECKET' 229

evening papers, which had spoken with a Httle hesi-
tation, 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.

For Tennyson he always retained the warmest
regard. " Lord Tennyson," he once observed, " was
one of the greatest of men, and one of the dearest
and best of friends. One of the most touching
incidents which I remember occurred while he was
on his death-bed. You know that some of his plays
lacked playing qualities. One night before his death
he turned to his physician, Dr. Dabbs, who told me
of the incident, and said : ' I suppose I shall never
see "Becket"?' 'I fear not,' said the doctor.
'When do they produce " Becket" ?' 'I think in
May,' was the reply. ' They did not do me justice
with " The Promise of May," ' said the dying poet ;
'but Irving will do me justice in "Becket." ' Of
that remark and confidence I was justly proud,"
concluded Irving. He once suggested Dante as
the theme for a play. Tennyson at first seemed
pleased with the subject, but after thinking for a few
moments he said slowly, " Yes ; but where would

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, &c., was serious. Yet the general impression, on the
whole, was that Her Majesty did not relish, or perhaps did not
quite understand, this new school of acting, being accustomed
to more old-fashioned methods.

230 SIR HENRY IRVING

you find a Dante to writei it ? " And he thereupon
gave up the idea.

Apart from his professional gifts, Irving was
assuredly one of those figures that filled the public
eye, and of which there are but few. This was
owing to a sort of sympathetic attraction, and to an
absence of affectation. He played many parts in
the social scheme, and always did so with judicious-
ness, contributing to the effect of the situation. His
utterances on most subjects were thoughtful and well
considered, and contributed to the enlightenment
of the case. At his examination by the London
County Council, when many absurd questions were
put to him, he answered with much sagacity. His
views on the employment of children in theatres
were truly sensible. More remarkable, however,
were 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. ^

' 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 fol-
lowed 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 legiti-
mate bounds, as in the instance of the late Mr. Leslie, he

POPULARITY 231

There have been many laments over the fleeting,
evanescent character of an actor's efforts. If his
success be triumphant, it is only a dream for those
who have not seen. Description gives but the
faintest idea of his gifts. The writer, as it were,
continues to write after his death, and is read, as he
was in his lifetime. But the player gone, the play
is over. The actor, it is true, if he be a personality,
has another audience outside his theatre. As I
have shown in these pages, he can attract by force
of character the interest and sympathies of the
general community. Whatever he does, or wherever
he appears, eyes are turned to him as they would be
to one on a stage. There was a sort of indulgent
partiality in the case of Irving. He was a dramatic
figure, much as was Charles Dickens. Eyes are idly
bent on him that enters next. And this high position
was never disturbed during his life ; and though
all popularity is precarious enough, he had the art
and tact to adapt his position to the shifty, capricious
changes of taste, and in the hackneyed phrase was

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 was the unconscious imitation which was gain-
ing 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
caught up many 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.

232 SIR HENRY IRVING

more " up to date " than any person of his time.
The fine Hnes 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
every one that enjoys public favour. Alas ! it must
be his lot to be ever at the oar. There is no relax-
ing, no repose ; no coy retirement, or yielding to
importunate rivalry. For —

" To have done, is to hang quite out of fashion,
Like a rusty mail in monumental mockery. . . .
For honour travels in a strait so narrow,
Where one but goes abreast : keep, then, the path ;
For emulation hath a thousand sons,
That one by one pursue : if you give way,
Or turn aside from the direct forth-right,
Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by.
And leave you hindmost ; — and there you lie
Like a gallant horse fallen in first rank.
For pavement to the abject rear, o'er-run
And trampled on ; then, what they do in present.
Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours."

CHAPTER XVI

1893

' KING ARTHUR ' CORPORAL BREWSTER HONOURS

WHEN the theatre opened for the season,
' Faust ' was revived to fill up the interval,
and it drew excellent and satisfactory " houses "
until a new piece was got ready. This, it was said,
was rehearsed on board the steamer on the way
home. Our actor had \oncr 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 entrusted 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, &c.,
for the Lyceum, now came forward as a poet ; and
a very respectable poet he proved to be, with har-
monious, 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 har-

233

234 SIR HENRY IRVING

monious recitations set off by beautiful shows, pro-
cessions, and scenic views. The piece was no doubt
"written in the theatre "under inspiration of the
manager, and supphed exactly what he wanted.
The scenery was designed by Sir E. Burne-Jones,
who supplied some exquisite combinations or ar-
rangements of colour, which were certainly new to
stage-land. The music was Sir Arthur Sullivan's,
and later there was to be the unusual and unprece-
dented incident of no fewer than three knights — a
musician, a painter and an actor — combining their
talents in a single play. Beautiful was the opening
scene with the blue waters and the swimming
maidens imported from ' Rheingold,' with the finding
of the " Excalibur " contrived most skilfully. There
were grand hails and castles, and woodland groves,
all exhibiting much originality of touch, with 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, lacked the weight necessary for the cha-
racter. 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.

That the element of scenery and decoration is
monstrously overdone to the destruction of ^.cting
there can be no question. The elaborate repro-

'KING ARTHUR' 235

duction, or reconstruction, of cities and antique
dresses on the stage is quite outside dramatic art.
In proof of this, what leaves so painful and de-
grading an impression as the passage through the
streets of a cartload of scenes and properties, all
rickety and daubed over with faded colours and
tinsel ? Here we may just glance at Mr. Gordon
Craig's new system, which — though crude and
unscientific as yet — is still a step in the right
direction. His principle would seem a sort of
indistinct generality or misty treatment carried out
by the agency of dark draperies. I recall a church
interior represented in this fashion, and which, with-
out supplying any details, suggested a vast expanse.
The objection, however, is a certain sameness
and sense of repetition. The whole system, how-
ever, is valuable as a protest against what may be
called, simulated scenery.

A striking proof of the care devoted by Irving to
the scenery of his pieces is found in the assistance
which he invoked of the leading artists of his day.
This is really unique in the annals of the stage.
Even when Garrick secured the services of De
Loutherberg, that artist was then, like Stanfield,
only a professional scene-painter, though later both
became Royal Academicians. The roll in Irving's
case was an extraordinary one. It included Sir
Alma Tadema, R.A., Sir E. Burne-Jones, R.A.,
Ford Madox Brown, Gustave Dore, J. Seymour
Lucas, and Sir J. Tenniel. Tadema supplied four
beautiful scenes for 'Coriolanus,' the small sketches
of which produced at the sale close on ;^8oo. Sir

236 SIR HENRY IRVING

E. Burne-Jones contributed no less than twenty-two
designs and two pastels for ' King Arthur,' which
realised only ninety-two guineas. For these con-
tributions we may be sure Irving paid in his
handsome imperial way ; but in their application to
his scenic purposes he was equally imperious if not
impervious. For he would seem to have modified
and adapted them according to the necessities of
the case, not wholly to the satisfaction of the artists.
During a long course of years Alma Tadema's
designs were laid aside altogether, but Burne-Jones's
had been freely altered. " Some things they have
done well and some they have spoiled ; and they
have behaved very badly about Merlin, and drew
him not as I have designed him, so I have made a
row, and now they are going to alter him. They
hurried the thing so that I saw nothing till it was
on the stage." He was clearly dissatisfied. He
also designed the armour.

It may be doubted, however, whether this system
is really profitable, or is not merely a waste of
precious material, for the two domains are almost
opposed. The artist of the first rank cannot feel at
home on the stage — its methods are so different from
his. On the other hand, Irving may have pushed
his system of shaping and docking too far, as he did
in the instance of composers, and also in that of
dramatists.

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

CORPORAL BREWSTER 237

constant changes of scenes, dresses, &c., involved an
enormous strain. The round of pieces included,
within the space of a few weeks, no fewer than
eleven plays : ' Faust,' ' King Arthur,' ' Louis XI.,'
' Merchant of Venice,' ' Becket,' ' Much Ado About
Nothing,' 'The Lyons Mail,' ' Charles L,' 'Nancy
Oldfield,' ' Corsican Brothers,' 'Macbeth.' A new
short piece, ' Journeys End in Lovers Meeting,'
by George Moore and John Oliver Hobbes, which
was to introduce Miss Terry, was also announced.
The burden of "staging " all these great works, in a
short time, must have been enormous. But it was
only in this fashion that the revivals could be done
justice to.

It is a wonderful proof of our actor's ability that,
after so many years of experiment in characters of
all kinds, he should in almost his latest attempt have
made one of his most signal successes. I doubt if
anything he had hitherto tried had more profoundly
impressed his audience than the little cabinet sketch
of Corporal Brewster in Conan Doyle's ' Story
of Waterloo.' This he had first presented to a
provincial audience at Bristol, with such extraordi-
nary effect that the general audience of the kingdom
felt instinctively that a great triumph had been
achieved. Every one 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, 1893, 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,'

238 SIR HENRY IRVING

and some scenes from 'Don Quixote,' Wills's
work. ^

This sketch of the old soldier was a noble 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 restrained with a fine reserve.
The figure will always be present to the memory —
a satisfactory proof of excellence. There was one
mistake, however, in giving the female character to
Miss Hughes, a bright and lively soubrette, who
could not, therefore, supply the necessary sympa-
thetic interest, though she did her best. Taking it
all in all. Corporal Brewster was, in its way, one of
the most masterly things the actor had done, and it
can be praised — ay, extolled — without the smallest
reservation.

It was followed by some scenes from ' Don
Quixote,' and here, again, we must admire that
admirable power of conceiving a character in which
Irving excelled, and in which all true actors should
excel. It was admitted that the piece was but a
sketchy thing. Still 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

' 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.

DON QUIXOTE 239

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 have
been made one of his best. The Don, in Irving's
hands, was a very fine specimen of the Spanish
noble. He was the exact picture of the hero —
dignified and chivalrous — stately in bearing, though
grotesque ; always in grim earnest — even intense ;
with somewhat of a reminiscence of his Malvolio.
Yet here, again, was success missed. The dull
public seemed to think that it was a sort of inauvaise
plaisanterie, or bit of pantomime. It was really
above them. So it ran but for a short time. This
was disheartening enough. And here was thus
one more sign of decay in the failure of that once
marvellous hold on public admiration. He seemed
also to be losing the power of judicious selection.
And yet for years he had been listening to the
flattering compliments showered on him — that he
was "the ideal Don Quixote." Critics, fair dames,
and all joined in the cry : " You would be the ideal
Don Quixote ! " And so he was. But the crowd
could not see it.

And here it may be said that this long connection
of Wills, author of this piece, with the Lyceum
tended somewhat to the sacrifice of brisk dramatic
action, always enfeebled by an excess of poetical reci-
tation. There were still left many fine subjects and
fine dramas which would kindle all the actor's powers
afresh and stir his audiences. What a fine piece.

240 SIR HENRY IRVING

for instance, might be made of Victor Hugo's " Notre
Dame " ! We could call up 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 have liked to have
seen him, too, as Rodin, in Sue's 'Wandering Jew,'
and, better still, in ' Venice Preserved,' or in ' Mile.
de Belleisle.'

After his twenty years' fruitful work at the
Lyceum — twenty years and more of picturesque
labour during which a new interest was created in
the stage — an official recognition was to be given of
our actor's high position. The year 1895 will hence-
forth 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 were the only two titled
managers. When, in May, the usual list of what are
called "birthday honours" came out, the public
was delighted to find their favourite knighted, 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.

HONOURS 241

On the lamented death of the actor, Mr. G.
Bernard Shaw made a rather reckless statement,
to the effect that the actor had actually applied for his
knighthood on the ground that it was due to his pro-
fession, which ought to be honoured in that way just
as much as were the arts and sciences. This singular
contention was put forward in an Austrian paper, ^
and was promptly challenged by Mr. Stephen
Coleridge in a letter, which is a graceful and
effective tribute to the memory of the actor : —

"In 1883 I asked my father to broach the matter
of making Irving a knight to Mr. Gladstone, who
was then Prime Minister. He did so, and Mr.
Gladstone intimated that, before considering the
matter, and before making any recommendation to
the Queen, it was essential that he should know
whether Irving would accept the honour. On the
28th of June, 1883, I went and saw Irving and
asked him whether in the event of a knighthood
being offered him he would accept it, and I now
quote from my diary written at the time :

" ' He would not accept it ; he said that an
actor differed from others, artists, musicians,
and the like, in that he had to appear in
person every night appealing directly to the
public for their favour. That being so, it was
of paramount importance that an actor should
do nothing that could possibly be misconstrued.
That there was a fellowship among actors of a
company that would be impaired by any eleva-
tion of one member over another ; that his

' Neue Freie Fresse, October 20, 1905.
17

242 SIR HENRY IRVING

strength as a manager and power as an actor

lay far more in the suffrages of the plain folk

of the pit than in the patronage, however lofty,

of great people ; that he knew instinctively

that large numbers of those same plain folk

would be offended at their simple Henry Irving

accepting decorations of a titular kind. He

disclaimed any false pride in the matter, he

did not affect to despise such an honour, and

was very grateful to my father for his kind

desires.'

" This is not the language of a man who would

vulgarly ask for honours for himself. I believe that

in 1895 Lord Rosebery, as Prime Minister, sent

Irving's name to the Queen with a recommendation

for a knighthood, and Irving received an intimation

that this had been done and an instruction to repair

to Windsor to receive the honour."

Mr. Shaw defended his assertion by pointing to
certain appeals of Irving's, claiming a recognition for
the stage exactly equivalent to that of the other
artistic professions. He insisted that they should
receive the same honours ; but he did not claim them
for himself. Mr. Labouchere had the same design
in view, and he also went to Mr. Gladstone to suggest
that Irving should be knighted. A little staggered
at the proposal, the Premier answered that he must
first consult Lord Granville, and having done so, he
offered the honour to the actor, who, however,
declined it — thinking, so Mr. Labouchere says,
that it would make him look absurd. Labouchere
always treated with ridicule his friend's crude fancy

HONOURS 243

for the Municipal Theatre as an utterly impracti-
cable thing in this country.

There was always an adroit modesty in Irving's
disclaimer of his new rank. In vain you looked
in his bills for the showy "Sir Henry"; nothing
but plain "Henry Irving" met the eye. And
there was the suggestion from the reader, " Why
does he not give himself his proper designation ? "
Some might think it a sort of ostentation, but it was
far from that ; he really wished not to raise himself
above his comrades. However, propriety is its own
reward, like honesty, and this simple stroke brought
him more distinction than if he had flourished away
in all his full-blown honour. Sir Charles Wyndham
now follows the same precedent.

To no class of the community was the honour
more acceptable than to his own profession. A
meetinor of actor-manas:ers and others was held to
take some step " in recognition," it was said, of the
distinction. Mr. Bancroft presided, and a pro-
visional 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 and managers." All
this was very gratifying. Not less striking was the
feeling with which the news was received abroad,
and his confreres of the French Comedy — the
''House of Moliere " as it proudly and so justly

244 SIR HENRY IRVING

boasts itself — lost not a moment in calling a meet-
ing and sending him a formal "act" of congratu-
lation. This important document ran : —

"Paris, May 28, 1895.
" Dear Sir Henry Irving, — The committee of
the Comedie Fran^aise and the socUtaires of the
House of Moliere 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,
&c., of the committee ; S. Reichemberg, Bartet,
B. Baretta Worms, Paul Mounet, Mary Kalb,
Blanche Pierson, A. Dudlay, &c., soci^taires."

Looking back over this long period of nigh thirty
years, we are astonished to find this laborious and
conscientious performer hardly ever absent from his
stage. Night after night, year after year, he was 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

HONOURS 245

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.

Sir Henry thus expressed himself to an inter-
viewer : "My 'watchword,' as you term it, must
needs be an old one — an old ideal. It is the one
word, Health ! It is of all things essential that we
keep our drama sane, and sound, and sweet, and
wholesome. For my part, I can say that I have
always endeavoured never to produce or take part
in any play that a young fellow might not take his
sweetheart or sister to see." "You do not then
approve of Ibsen.-*" "No. Frankly speaking, I most
distinctly do not. What life do such plays render.-*
What lesson of good do they convey .-* The
playgoing public of England have not altogether
tired of Shakespeare, or of the wondrous lessons
that he teaches. But do you know I am a little
afraid that my son " — and here Sir Henry smiled
across at Mr. Laurence Irving — " has become at
least slightly infected by the ' blight from the
North.'"

" I can have no hesitation in saying," he added,
" that I look hopefully for the time when the English
municipalities shall do something for the stage as
they do in France and Germany. All such innova-
tions are warmly opposed in a country like ours —
take, for example, the simple opening of museums
and picture-galleries, which in certain quarters was
bitterly resented. This insensate opposition must

246 SIR HENRY IRVING

be held to account, at least in part, for the
lamentable lack of healthy and intellectual enjoyment
which one notices as one passes through many
country places. It is not as if we were even
consistent in Great Britain — for do we not find the
municipal authorities helping to give the people
music and outdoor recreations while neglecting to
assist the theatres ? "

CHAPTER XVII

SOCIAL GIFTS

IRVING always showed himself eager to plead
for his profession, to urge its claim as a whole-
some and instructive moral influence that will
implant in the community elevating instincts of
even a religious kind. All our oreat 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. Our actor was very
earnest, and fondly believed that the day is approach-
ing 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 was fond of
repeating the bishop's remark to him, when he
asked why, with such a taste for the theatre, he did
not frequent it — " My dear Irving, I am afraid of
the Rock and the Record.''

In his paper, addressed to the Church of England
Temperance Society, and read on March 3, 1876,
Irving very valiantly pressed for the formal recog-

247

248 SIR HENRY IRVING

nition of his profession by the Church. " Make the
theatre respected by openly recognising its services.
Let members of rehgious congregations know that
there is no harm, but rather good, in entering into
ordinary amusements, so far as they are decorous.
Use the pulpit, the press, and the platform to
denounce not the stage, but certain evils that find
allowance on it. Change your attitude towards the
stage, and, believe me, the stage will co-operate
with you," &c.

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 jRock and the Record,
seems but a pleasant delusion. Some few stray
clerical visitants there are, no doubt ; but in all
ages and climes the Church has found itself
opposed to the stage, on the ground that in the
majority of theatres is found what is destroying and
corrupting. As I have said, the pieces in which
anything instructive, or even elevating, is set forth
are but few.

In his numerous addresses at institutes, and
before the Universities, he urged the same plea.
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

SOCIAL GIFTS 249

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 Shakes-
peare, are set forward with so much magnificence,
show, and spectacle, that the teachings are over-
powered 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 ? The thing is
Utopian — hopeless in these days of ' Spring
Chickens' and 'Mr. Popples.' 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.

As I have said, Irving collected his addresses
in a little volume, " The Drama," 1893. Here,
in an exceedingly persuasive and graceful style,
he expounded the principles of his art. On
every point he has something to say, and all is
marked by judiciousness and a temperate reserve.

250 SIR HENKY IRVING

How true, for instance, is this : " Nor do I think
that serviHty to archaeology on the stage is an
unmixed good. Correctness of costume is ad-
mirable 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 discre-
tion is needed in the use of the materials which
are nowadays at the disposal of the manager.
Music, painting, architecture, costume, have all to
be employed, with a strict regard to the production
of an artistic whole in which no element shall be
obtrusive." When 'Much Ado About Nothing'
was produced, there was a scene representing a
cedar walk, and a critic discovered that there were
no cedars in England until fifty years later, on
which he comments — " Absolute realism on the
stage is not always desirable, any more than the
photographic reproduction of Nature can claim to
rank with the highest art."

A little bit of pleasant comedy was found
in a speech of his at a dinner of the Cab-
drivers' Benevolent Association. He had always
a friendly feeling for this hardworked body of
men, as he told his audience autobiographically :
" I have spent a great part of my life in cabs.
There was a time, indeed, when a hansom, by
a slight stretch of the picturesque, might have been
described as my address. That was in the days of
youth and high spirits. But there comes a moment
in the experience of all of us when the taste for
adventure is satiated, when we are no longer eager
to sit under the charioteer of the sun, and snatch a

SOCIAL GIFTS 251

fearful joy from sharp corners and a sudden con-
gestion of the traffic. So when the decisive
moment came for me I dropped the hansom and
took up with the growler. I remember that my
first appearance in that staid and unambitious
vehicle excited a certain amount of feeling amongst
my old friends the hansom cabmen. There were
letters of remonstrance. One correspondent, as
genial a humorist as Gentleman Joe, hinted that to
be seen in a growler was equivalent to being dead,
and I think he offered to paint my epitaph on the
back. I must say that I am very comfortable in a
growler, except when the bottom drops out almost
as suddenly as if it were a gold mine. That
accident once happened to a friend of mine whose
professional business compelled him to make a
quick change of dress in the cab, and as it was
a light summer evening the passers-by were
astonished to see a pair of white legs running
under the vehicle, and not apparently connected
with the horse."

Again a pleasant sketch: "Taking them as a
body, the cabmen are as industrious and deserving
a class as you can find in the community. There
still lingers amongst them, perhaps, some of the
old spirit which prompted the cabmen to expostulate
rather forcibly with Mr. Pickwick. And considering
the vast area in which these public servants have to
work, and the elasticity of the four-mile radius
in the minds of some citizens, the friction is
surprisingly small. Not a few of us have known
cabmen whom we held in special regard. There

252 SIR HENRY IRVING

was one affable driver that I invited to the Lyceum,
giving him the money for admission. The next
time I saw him I said, ' Well, and how did you like
the play ? ' He hesitated for a moment, choosing,
as I thought, the most grateful words to express his
pleasure and admiration, and then he said, ' Well,
sir, I didn't go.' 'You didn't go! Why not?'
' Well, sir, you see, there's the missus, and she
preferred the Waxworks.'

"A friend of mine, a great ornament of the
medical profession, used to tell a story of the
cabman who drove him regularly on his rounds,
for some years, and always spoke of him with
affectionate familiarity by his Christian name. The
time came for the rising surgeon to set up a
brougham, and with much reluctance he broke this
news to his good friend the cabby, who responded
with cheerful alacrity, ' Oh, you're going to get rid
of me, are you.-* Not a bit of it — I'll drive that
brougham.' And drive it he did, till he became too
old and infirm for the duty. ' Ah, well, I must give
it up,' he said one day; 'I ain't fit for it any longer.'
' Dear me,' said the doctor, in great concern, ' I am
very sorry, very sorry indeed. And what are you
going to do ? ' ' What am I going to do ? What
are y 021 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

,<<^'

" Don Quixote."
Dniwn by Phil May.

To face p. 253

SOCIAL GIFTS 253

with as ofrateful an oblicration to him as that of the
voyager to the pilot amidst the reefs in a storm.
In this labyrinth of London, it is rare for cabby not
to know his way. I have never ceased to wonder
at the cabman's dexterity of eye and hand —
unrivalled, I venture to say, in any other capital in
Europe. And when you consider how small is the
proportion of accidents in this vast business of
locomotion, you may cheerfully grant that cabby
has some claim upon your respect and generosity."

I think the whole " key " of this is admirably
appropriate, and the touch of the lightest.^

Instances of his boundless generosity have been
often quoted. These were of an impulsive, lavish
kind springing from the moment. He would
eneaee an old actor who was of little use for his
purposes simply to furnish a retreat and support —
such as, for instance, of "Old Howe," who once
almost complained to me of his patron's generosity
and "princely" salary, for he said : " I had sooner
he gave me something to do," the veteran being
always allotted some rather minor character. Irving
would meet an old actor in the street and send him

* 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 shiUing 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.

254 SIR HENRY IRVING

on his way rejoicing with cash and stalls ; or,
operating more delicately, if he were an old com-
rade, he would find a small part for him. Once
after such an engagement, the man was taken ill in
the Isle of Wight. Irving actually journeyed down
to see him, comforted him, kept his place open, and
left ;!^ioo. But by this system he overburdened his
company considerably.

CHAPTER XVIII

SYMPTOMS OF DECAY

CYMBELINE,' produced in September, 1896,
was an attempt to open up the mine of less
known Shakespearian drama ; a hopeless task, as
Irving found it on a former occasion. The public
will condescend to interest itself only in such
pieces as it knows or has heard of. As in the
case of the lovely ' Twelfth Night ' revival it
turned its stony ears to the melodic poetry and
closed its eyes to the exquisitely devised scenes.
The "one and only" Miss Terry showed all her
tender graces in Imogen, and her comrade con-
tented himself with lachimo instead of Posthumus.
This was a surprise. As one of his warmest
admirers said naively, " The result was Posthumus
is no longer a very striking personage." This dis-
torting of a character Irving was rather partial to.

Rejane's unique performance of ' Madame Sans
Gene ' had made a striking success in London,
where every one talked of the buoyancy, and
sentiment combined, of the actress. Equal praise
could be accorded to the play, an admirable piece

255

256 SIR HENRY IRVING

of work of Sardou's. Irving, always eager to
show his gifted partner at her best, saw that here
was a character to fit her, though this proved
somewhat of a miscalculation. It was translated
by his son, mounted in the usual tasteful style,
and produced in April, 1897. He himself took the
trifling part of Napoleon, to which his stature was
a serious impediment. This difficulty he contrived
to surmount by some of the ingenious resources of
stagecraft. He made the part impressive and
interesting — with certainly a deep suggestion of the
Corsican's character and gifts. The piece was
beautifully "staged" as it is called, and was
followed with much interest. Some years later it
became an English opera of extraordinary attrac-
tion and success. It was to be lamented that
Sardou, when later employed to write for the
manager, did not make the same exertion, and
could only supply very inferior work — no doubt
owing to a national contempt for the English stage
as compared with the Parisian — a contempt shown
by his never crossing the Channel to see how his
" commissioned " pieces were produced and acted.
In another view this play was of ill omen — as at
this period occurred the first symptoms of incom-
patibility between the actor-manager and his gifted
partner, which was speedily to lead to separation.

Miss Terry was a little of a disappointment : the
character was that of a French woman, whereas
she seemed to portray an English woman of a
type very familiar. Neither was she as coarsely
exuberant as Rdijane. The piece was hardly enthusi-

SYMPTOMS OF DECAY 257

astically welcomed, and there were perhaps signs
of indifference.

Five and twenty years of almost uninterrupted
prosperity was, perhaps, as much as the most
popular actor could desire. It seemed, indeed, that
about this time fortune seemed to tire of her
favourite. The tide was about to turn. He was
now to meet a series of rebuffs, and even disasters,
which led to what was almost a catastrophe. He
had revived, I think, ' Richard HI.' with new
scenery, effects, &c., and was revelling in his grim
and grotesque personation of the King. The
insolent ignoring of Buckingham's earnest petition,
the rage at being interrupted, the malignant
pause between each word, the sort of snarl with
which he said, " I'm not in the vein " — nothing
could be finer. This piece excited little enthusiasm,
and yet it was admirably done. On the first night
it was coldly received in spite of all the lavish outlay.

My old friend, that admirable and measured
critic, Mr. Knight, says justly enough of ' Richard
III.' — and it applies equally to many other of his
performances — that the tragic and conventional
element was dismissed from the character : instead
of the villainous, crooked-backed tyrant, we had a
laughter-moving personage. It is "a character
part." The reason of the change was that the
realistic was substituted for the old conventional
treatment. This raised a serious speculation, and
so important a change in treatment should make us
doubt ; for the modern rendering of Richard seemed
equally composed of Louis XI. and Mephisto.

258 SIR HENRY IRVING

This, with the unmerited treatment of ' Twelfth
Night,' might be considered the only checks he had
received — everything had been triumphant. But
still things began to go wrong. Looking back, it
seems to me that there was a feeline that little
more could be expected. All were familiar with
what he could do : he was not likely to produce any-
thing novel. They had " travelled over his mind,"
as Johnson once said. But now was to come the
most serious blow, the dissolution of the partnership
with the gifted Ellen Terry, which had so increased
the public stock of harmless pleasure.

This came about after the production of * Madame
Sans Gene,' and though the pair were to play
together hereafter, the partnership, as I said, was
dissolved for good. It was said that Irving wished
to introduce some girlish performer who might be
more adapted to the playing of ingenue heroines.
This was not unnatural, but whatever the cause the
separation could not be averted. One result of this
dearth of material was the growing tendency to fall
back on the old productions, and from this time we
find him constantly reviving " old favourites."
When he went "on tour" this was found very con-
venient — he went back to the days of ' The Bells '
and ' Merchant of Venice,' and these with * The
Lyons Mail,' ' Louis XI.,' and later, ' Becket,'
became his regular " stock-pieces." ^

' The old scenery and properties for these, and other pieces,
were stored away in a special warehouse. In his later days one
of his sore trials that I have alluded to was the total destruction
of this emporium by fire, entailing the greatest loss and incon-
venience. His troubles, indeed, came in battalions.

SYMPTOMS OF DECAY 259

The secession of Miss Terry was a serious loss
indeed. Half the interest of his own exhibitions
was gone with her, for it was notorious that many
admirers held that her's was the secret attraction of
the theatre — that her magic charm, vivacity, and
versatility, were what drew the audience ; that,
though nominally his assistant, her talent almost
overpowered his. We might amend this unflatter-
ing view and contend that each was necessary to
the other, and from constant companionship had
come to draw unsuspected gifts and charms.
A great actor and greater actress thus furnishing
entertainment did not quite amount to '* actor
management " — it was nearer to the ideal of the
evenly-balanced company. But here was Irving
now left alone and unsupported — the Melpomene
was gone. We were now likely to have unrelieved,
"inspissated gloom " and declamation.'

It is remarkable what a dearth of talent is found
nowadays, and after what long intervals it shows
itself. It seems to take about forty or fifty years
to produce original gifts. Then follows a long
reign of mediocrity. With all his blemishes, Irving
had no one near him ; no one has surpassed him.
No one in the same period has approached Ellen
Terry. The springs, indeed, seem dried up now.
It is near forty years since Dickens's death, and no
one approaching him has appeared.

' The sparkling, incompressible Beatrice has for some years
been working on her own resources, first as manageress, with new
plays of an unpractical kind and offering Mr. Gordon Craig an
opening for his scenical experiments, and later in characters of
middle age, as in Mr. Barrie's piece, " Alice sit-by-the-Fire."

260 SIR HENRY IRVING

This feeling of being a little tired of their hero
was not an unnatural one, considering the long
period his sway had endured. People began to
repeat, " Oh, here is the same thing over and over
again ! " — as indeed it was, and was obliged to be.
He was eager to secure novelty could he find it.
The wonder was that during the almost thirty years
no rival had risen, nor has any risen since, though
the Shakespearian decorator and upholsterer has.

While we are lamenting the eminent and amiable
actor's loss, we should recollect that there was
coming on with advance of years a decay, not only
in his strength and health, but in his methods.
Nothinor was more obvious during- the last few
years of his life, than the gradual weakening of his
voice, with indistinctness of utterance. He seemed
also to be careless of stage discipline, and would,
during his own or other persons' speeches, introduce
strange sounds of dissent, exclamations, which was
literally no more than "gag." This, he seemed to
think, imported a sort of spontaneous and degage
tone to his part. His new reading of the
Mephisto had too much of this would-be
"buffoonery," he making jocose comments sotto
voce on what was going on before him.

One of the cries most frequently heard, and
tediously iterated, even by friendly advisers, was
his persistent neglect of the " native talent." True,
there was not much "native talent " about, but why
not call to his side the Pineros, Henry Arthur Jones'
— beside others of the respectable rank and file.'*
He was warned — even threatened, with disastrous

SYMPTOMS OF DECAY 261

consequences, if he were still to cling to the
old dramas. Nothing could be more unfair. A
Lyceum drama was and should be sui generis.
The house required a largeness of treatment, broad
lines, great force in the characters, and, above all,
the piece was to be constructed — in an easy natural
way — round the two main characters.

Irving's admirers were now to be rather surprised
at his next proceeding. It is rather an uncommon
thing- to find the distinguished manager of a dis-
tinguished theatre allowing his son to furnish a play,
he himself taking a leading part. This was ' Peter
the Great,' produced in January, 1898, an ambitious
effort, not without promise. It was, indeed, more a
descriptive poem than a play. Irving did his best
with the hero and worked laboriously, reciting many
a lengthy speech ; but he excited little interest in
spite of a good deal of barbaric show and local
colour.

During its short run the oddity was witnessed of
the young author's taking his father's place in the
leading part. This was hardly judicious policy ; as
it showed either too much parental indulgence, or
some indifference to what the public might think.
Indeed, it was hardly a compliment to the audience
to ask them to accept a substitute. The choice of
this piece betrayed, as I believe, the anxiety he felt
at this critical stage of his course. Troubles and
difficulties were gathering about him, and to these
difficulties, the failure of several plays in succession
made a serious addition. And yet he was about to
strive and repair all by a very doubtful cast — he had

262 SIR HENRY IRVING

accepted a play by Messrs. Traill and Hichens.
This was called " The Medicine Man," which
was at least to furnish a topic of wondering specu-
lation how so sagacious a judge could have so
deliberately chosen perhaps the weakest and most
unsuitable of all the pieces sent to him for perusal.
It turned on the "antics," as they may be called,
of an odd physician — half serious, half grotesque.
But the audience were determined not to take it
seriously, and before the close mixed laughter and
disapprobation greeted him. Nothing was more
mortifying than the way this was displayed. They
dared not boo or hoot, but there was somethine
contemptuous in the opposition. They put the
whole thing aside, as who should say, " You
are trying a joke on us ! " The pampered
crowd was also nettled that he had not o-one
to the usual expense and extravagance. He was
bound to ruin himself, they thought, in enter-
taining them. It was plain that these unexpected
insults wounded him grievously. It is painful to
think of such things. But the public is often thus
brutal, even to its old favourites. Still, apart from
its merits or demerits, every one thought that
such a class of piece was unsuited to the Lyceum.
It was withdrawn almost at once, and something
from the "stock" substituted.

But this was to prove the coup de grace — his own
illnesses and accidents, with the failure of three
plays in succession, were rude shocks too strong for
him to encounter. His sensitive temperament, long
accustomed to the tides of success, had no fibre

SYMPTOMS OF DECAY 263

with which to encounter disaster. He was au bout
— and in truth he was at the end of his resources —
without money put by for a rainy day. He had
lived always in handsome style.

Accordingly who shall forget the surprise, when
one day it was asked mysteriously, '' Had you heard
any ritmours about Irving? " It was soon spread
about that money was short — that large sums were
owing for salaries, &c. An index of this sad state
of affairs was the sudden appearance at auction of
many of his prized books, collections, rarities, all
which brought wretched prices. The name and
book plates, &c., had not been removed. It was
presently openly said that he could no longer carry
on the theatre.

It has always seemed to me that this crisis in his
affairs was rather clumsily handled. Had a few of
his wealthy friends been called into council, and all
matters placed in their hands, they would have
devised a scheme for his extrication ; money would
have been found to satisfy a large portion of his
creditors. But no doubt his own lofty pride stood
in the way. I never learned how much was the
sum for which he was indebted — perhaps thirty or
forty thousand pounds — but it is certain that no
one would have pressed him unduly, and that he
would have found as indula;ent creditors as did Sir
Walter Scott before him. What was he to do now
— go round the provinces or set off for America ?

But now his old friend, Mr. Comyns Carr, came
to his rescue with a bold scheme. It was agreed
that, considering his health and resources, the theatre

264 SIR HENRY IRVING

was no longer to be relied upon. A company was
to be formed, the shares to be taken up, Mr.
Comyns Carr was to be secretary or managing-
director, and Irving was to accept a number of
shares for his interest while contributing a " short
season " during the year of about four months — the
rest of his time to be at his own disposal and for his
own profit. It must have been a wrench thus to
have his kingdom taken from him ; but from what
a burden was he released ! Henceforth he was a
free man and could roam where he willed. He
had soon arranged his debts and formed a modest
travelling company to go round the kingdom and
later to the States. Through this trial, which
was also a serious mortification, Irving com-
ported himself with a dignity and resignation that
were quite admirable. He did not advertise his
sorrows, or make claims for assistance or sympathy
on the ground of past service. He bore all like a
man, and did his best to extricate himself. He
determined to undertake the dull round of provincial
touring, visiting places where he had not been
seen, and thus work a fresh mine of interest. He
made a most successful visit to the United States,
where he was received with all the old enthusiasm
and affection. It was remarkable how constant
were the Americans to him, they never seemed to
tire of him and his plays. He came and yet came
ao"ain.

He had, now, however, to cast about him for
some suitable actress of not much pretension to
play the supporting female characters. He thus

ROBKSl'IKKKK KKKl KCIIM;.
liy llairy Fuiuiss. From au ongiiuil ilrawiuK kut Ly tbe Artist.

[To face iiaijc 265.

SYMPTOMS OF DECAY 265

adopted Miss Cissie Loftus, "Miss Cecilia" she
became for the Lyceum dignity ; Miss Feely,
an American actress ; Miss Mabel Hackney, later
wife of his son Laurence ; and finally that most
interesting and graceful performer, the creator of
* Everyman,' Miss E. Wynne-Mathieson. This ab-
sence of a first-class female performer obliged him
to discard some of the more important pieces, and
henceforward he contented himself with playing
such old favourites as 'The Lyons' Mail,' 'Merchant
of Venice,' 'Faust,' 'Becket,' 'The Bells,' and
others, where the whole burden was thrown upon
his single self.

In April, 1899, the new Lyceum Company having
got to work with a piece by Wills's brother (' The
Only Way,' another variation of the " Tale of Two
Cities "), we find Irving fulfilling his part in the
contract, by appearing with his " Travelling Com-
pany " — for such it was — in a new piece.

The expropriated manager was now to bring for-
ward a Shakespearian play under the old conditions.
It is to be presumed that he was given a free hand.
The play chosen was the long-deferred and often-
announced ' Coriolanus.' He had lying by him the
scenery designed and executed long before by a
celebrated artist, but which seemed ineffective.
This last of the Shakespearian revivals was
destined, owing to the ill-fortune which seemed to
pursue Irving, to be comparatively unsuccessful,
perhaps from the feeling that this was not "the old
Lyceum."

Irving, always original and enterprising, was led

266 SIR HENRY IRVING

on by the success of ' Madame Sans Gene,' to
enter into treaty with Sardou, to adapt a drama
to his own measure, suggesting the subject of
Robespierre. To this he was drawn by his own
fancied resemblance to the great " sea green," to a
certain reserve and grotesqueness found in both
characters. He, as it were, " felt " the man before
him. Then there was the poetic entourage, the
crowds, red caps, procession, ''Marseillaise,'' and the
rest. But had not these things been presented in
' The Dead Heart,' which, indeed, offered the same
topics and opportunities. Sardou, as is his wont,
fashioned a story of his own, without any regard to
historical or biographical accuracy. There was an
illegitimate son introduced, whose parent Miss
Terry was to enact. Hence some movingly
pathetic scenes : the mother pleading for the
son, the " sea green " stern for a while, yet
moved himself and softened. Indeed, there were
scenes when the great man was shown at home,
relaxing, with a tender heart, and enjoying the
placid joys of the domestic fireside !

The play was produced on April 15th, and Miss
Terry, who had a rather conventional part, rejoined
the company. It must be said, Robespierre was
one of Irving's most striking "character " parts; the
general figure and bearing, with a sort of quaintness,
still live in the memory, and are revived in Mr.
Harry Furniss' spirited sketch of him, where the
half grotesque expression of the actor is caught to
the very life.

One of the attractions at the Irving sale was a

ACT III.

The nervous and suspicious Robespierre.

By_kind permission of Mr. Harry Furiiiss autl the Proprietors of the " Daily Telegraph."

[T(i face jmrfe 267.

SYMPTOMS OF DECAY 267

huge volume overflowing with prints and illustrations
all dealing with the period of the French Revolution,
There were costumes, portraits, and everything
connected with the subject. These Irving had
diligently collected when he was preparing- this play.
This showed his earnest conscientiousness. Yet
surely this seems so much waste and misspent
labour, expended, moreover, in the wrong direction.
The costumiers, property men, and scenic artists
are all fully equipped with the conventional types of
the period quite sufficiently to set forth the piece.
All minute archaeological details are thrown away
upon an audience who, moreover, have not sufficient
knowledge to appreciate or even notice them. But
all this is associated with a false and rather corrupt
principle of stage illustration — which would make of
the stage itself a sort of old curiosity shop and his-
torical panorama. The effect is, as of those museums
at Amsterdam and other cities, where we are shown
rooms filled with figures in national costumes of
different periods. The spirit of the time is what is
required, and a close study of Carlyle's glowing
book — written in letters of fire — would have helped
far more. We wanted the Revolution acted rather
than shown. Nothing, as a spectacle, could have
been finer than the Procession of the Supreme
Being, but it was really no more than a costly shoiv.
Antoine, that strange and remarkable actor and
organizer, once gave a realistic, lurid sketch of the
trial and execution of the Due D'Enghien — any one
who witnessed it could never forget the perfect im-
pression it left of the Napoleonic era ; it was all so

268 SIR HENRY IRVING

vivid and concentrated and distilled to the very
essence. Yet there were only a couple of scenes
and scarcely any decoy's. But all were permeated
with the spirit.

In the spring of the year 1904 our actor was to
" produce " — cest le 7not ^ — the very last of all his
long line of pieces — ' Dante.'

" How like Dante ! it would be an ideal part! "
again exclaimed, in rapture, admirers and adulators ;
and certainly the two faces were strangely alike.
Irving no doubt fancied himself parading the stage
with slow strides, and gazing dreamily at the pit.
He dreamed that they would associate him somehow
with all the genius of poetry and romance — exhibit-
ing the poet in his work. This poetical notion, I
am convinced, was the reason of his choice. Did
he say ever so little, his fine features would still
discourse for him ! Yet it was to prove an utterly
disappointing business. Sardou completely failed,
and that true trader in plays did not seem to have
exerted himself. It was a poor, skimpy, story-
less, passionless thing — likely enough what is
familiarly called "a pot-boiler," very different from
the powerful things he fashioned for the "divine
Sarah," and which have gone round the world.
The shrewd Parisian, who received a good price for

' The American managers now among us use a strange jargon
of their own, by way of securing credit for what is done off the

stage. They now "present" Mr. or Miss in a new

play, which is " produced " by some one else, "stage-managed "
by another, and written by one less important than the rest.
Thus there is the manager, stage-manager, producer, under the
direction of the " presenter."

Irving with Miss Lkna Ashwell in " Dante,
AT Drurv Lanf. Theatre (igo3).

To face p. 2m

SYMPTOMS OF DECAY 269

his work, also took care to benefit his compatriots,
and "recommended" a painter for the scenes, with
a special composer for the music. This scenery,
though pretentious, was scarcely so good or effective
as would have been furnished at home, while the
music was of the crude "advanced" sort, which
was too deep for the audience. The composer
overflowed in his abundance, and was confounded
when the ever-tranquil and smiling manager pro-
ceeded to "cut out" wholesale and hew in all
directions, throwing over all top hamper. There
was much indignation in the Parisian journals.
But if the piece were bad and uninteresting, it could
hardly have been redeemed by Irving's acting.
He was, indeed, the great poet for the first few
minutes, as he stood or moved about, gazing from
beneath his cowl and toga, which he was perpetu-
ally draping on his arm, or throwing over his
shoulder. His voice was at this time weak and
thin ; his speech slow and monotonous — it was
more a recitation than acting. In fact he was not
Dante. There was little or no passion or action.
The character made no impression and seemed to
be overpowered by the noisy, riotous crowds that
overflowed the piece. At the more dramatic, or
perhaps less dull, moments of the piece, he became
almost extinct, looking on in a sort of helpless
fashion at what was going forward. Irving, it may
be noted, never could dominate the crowd as the
great classical actors could do. He must have his
stage to himself, he and his audience. This was
shown in ' Robespierre,' where though he raved and

270 SIR HENRY IRVING

shrieked at the mob, he seemed overpowered ; quite
a cypher. So with the " I banish yoti ! " in his
' Coriolanus.' The faithful, however, saw none of
these blemishes, but thought all good. It was the
man — the personality, they loved to look on — their
old friend. In the country when it was taken on
tour, it was hardly tolerated.

But in spite of these efforts it was presently
rumoured that all was not going well with the
Lyceum Company. The rosy forecasts of success
were not being justified — there were protests and
clamours from dissatisfied shareholders. At the
meetings even the late manager was not spared,
until the faithful Stoker had to announce that he
had suffered more than the rest.

But presently was to fall a swinging stroke, which
completely wrecked the unlucky company. This
was a peremptory summons from the inquisition of
the London County Council to put their house in
order, at the tremendous cost of nearly ;^20,ooo.
Their coffers were empty. They might raise the sum,
but the charge would swamp the enterprise. One
could understand how the immense prestige of
Irving should have kept off so long the inspecting
intruders, but it seemed strange how the Paul Prys
of the Council, busy with all the theatres, should
have overlooked it. Nor was this requisition un-
reasonable or made too soon. The wonder was
that things had been allowed to go on so long, for
it was a simple death-trap. Who will forget the
appalling tunnels that led to the stalls, where only
two could pass, and where a cry of fire would have

|CHf^VA-BUC^

lK\iNr, AS " Dantk

To face j). 270.

SYMPTOMS OF DECAY 271

been destruction ! Every portion of it was honey-
combed with contrivances to secure extra room.
The back portion of the pit was Hke a cellarage.
When the demand was presented the unhappy
shareholders saw no issue before them save that
of ofettino- rid of the whole concern. It was
accordingly sold to a Music Hall Company, and
razed to the ground ! But before this catastrophe
Irving had dissolved his connection with the place.
He had given his final performance there in July,
1903 — 'The Merchant of Venice,' the last as it
was the first and best of all his delineations in
the famous old house. As he quitted the Doge's
Court with his famous scowl, I wonder did he
think of that night, some twenty-four years before
— one of tumultuous rapture and enjoyment and
which set the very seal to his fame ; or could he
have divined that within a couple of years the
theatre would be levelled and he himself borne up
the aisles of Westminster Abbey ?

CHAPTER XIX

RING DOWN THE CURTAIN

^7[ T'E have now to contemplate the closing
V V scene of this strenuous and romantic
career. After his long and brilliant course, it was
a rude shock to find that he had, as it were, to
begin the world anew, and this feeling, no doubt,
disheartened and perhaps weakened him. He must
have had a strong constitution to stand the strain
of his nigh fifty years' hard work, but these latter
failures must have made him despondent, while his
irregular fashion of turning nights into days, kept up
for years, must have laid the foundation of illness or
disease. A constant strain of work and responsi-
bility without recuperation by sleep is sure to work
on the nerves and on the heart, and this proved to
be the case in Irving's instance. Scott, Dickens,
Irving, all three became victims to this overwork —
a sad warning! Dickens fancied that he could
strain the machine just " one little bit more," and
then would relax and retire. Irving wished to
make something for his old age from these final
performances in the provinces, but miscalculated
his strength.

272

Sir Henrv Ir\in(',.
From a late photo.^raph by Histcd.

7"o/,(ct-/>, '273.

RING DOWN THE CURTAIN 273

For a year before his death there were symptoms
of a breakdown in health. At one of the Boz
Club's dinners, where I had prevailed on him to take
the chair, he looked sadly aged, quite an old man,
his hair whitening rapidly. He made a speech
which seemed rather of a rambling sort, chiefly
about " Crummies and his pumps," which he reiter-
ated again and again, as though the mere sound of
the words was sufficiently comic. But a few weeks
before his death a well-known personage, who had
been dining in his company and sitting beside him,
told me how shocked he was by his condition.
Nothing better shows the almost appalling change
in his features than a photograph taken only a few
weeks before his death for the Sphere.

Before he set out on his last provincial circuit in
1905, it was understood that he was to make one
farewell visit to the States. But as the progress
went on, he seems to have shrunk from the task,
and it appears to have been debated whether this
should not be abandoned. More significant was
the notice issued a week or so before the event,
withdrawing ' The Bells ' from his programme as
too exhausting. These things ought to have sup-
plied warning; but who heeds such warning .-^
However, he pursued his drudging course from
town to town, receiving addresses and civic honours
as he went on — compliments which naturally pleased
him and took off his thoughts from his state. On
this — his last as it proved — tour, Irving came to
places where he had never visited before, and found
novelty and tumultuous encouragement. At Cardiff

274 SIR HENRY IRVING

particularly he made a deep impression. After the
play had concluded, the Welsh enthusiasts broke
out into the hymn, '* God be with you till we meet
again." Surely never before in the annals of the
stage has an actor been greeted thus — with a hymn.
It was a remarkable sight, Sir Henry standing
reverently on the stage listening with bowed head
to the sacred song, charged as it was with affectionate
regard.

And thus as the days went by he felt the ligatures
coiling- tio-hter about his heart. Each nig-ht worn and
sinking, he must have returned spent and exhausted.
The same old weary routine — 'The Bells,' Brewster,
Shylock and Becket — " Backet" as he would call it
— who could stand the wearing grind of that stage
machinery going on from eight till eleven ? And
this — all this for a poor frail being such as he
was !

This ending of one of the most successful and
admired of his veneration was sad enouo-h. But
there was present an almost tragical element to add
to the poignancy of his state — the alarming pre-
cariousness of his position. When he had announced
his retirement, no doubt dictated by the condition
of his health, he reckoned that the enthusiasm of
his friends, and the general rush to see him for the
last time, would enable him to make a sufficient
provision for his declining years. And many, indeed,
made certain that this provision had been in part
secured. But a number of disastrous accidents
were to frustrate these plans — the failure of the
Lyceum Company, the breakdown of his health,

RING DOWN THE CURTAIN 275

which entailed the withdrawal of his most effective
characters as being too agitating, and, above all, the
abandonment of the American tour, which he
counted on as a perfect mine of gold. All that
was left was the touring from town to town — an
expensive business, as he carried round with him his
company, scenes, properties, &c.^

What, then, was to become of him when he finally
took leave ? All he could hope for was a few
thousand pounds to be gathered during the last few
weeks of his appearance. To one of his taste and
habits a few hundreds a year would be beggary.

It will be said, however, that he left behind him a
substantial sum, nigh twenty thousand pounds, result
of the sale of his collections. But by an odd perverse
fate this sum could not have existed during his life-
time, for he had to die to give it existence. It was
his prestige as a dead actor that enhanced the price
to four or five times its value.^

So, in addition to his physical sufferings, there was
added the poignant feeling of anxiety as to the
future. What was to become of him with no
income — nothing- saved ?

Add to this that he had to carry a smiling,
triumphant face, to make a brave, imperial show, to
be liberal and lavish as was his wont, to receive his
honours ; while all the shouting lookers-on assumed

^ At the time of his death he had been "on the road" some
months, yet it does not appear from his will that profits were
made, or if they were they had been expended.

^ This is no mere speculation as a portion of these effects was
sold in his lifetime, and brought prices far below their value.

276 SIR HENRY IRVING

he was the most fortunate of men, and " coining
money." All the while the broken actor had this
weight at his heart — mental as well as physical.

Now let us think of the poor, harassed creature,
suffering in body, filled with gnawing anxieties,
and hopeless for the future, and see how deep was
the tragedy of it all ! In vain the doctors bade him
take care. Go forward he must ; though his heart
sank and failed, money must be got, for he was
committed to engagements. And how chilling for
him was the thought that loomingf ahead was the
serious business of the whole — the " Farewells " in
great cities, the packed masses, the shoutings, the
call for exertion. How should he face that.-* Finally
we must think of him as he appeared on that last
night, when he sank down virtually alone. There
was none near him, no friend or relative near to
comfort, soothe, or give hopes. He had indeed his
trusted lieutenants, but they had their serious
work. Disdainfully he shut up his sorrows within
himself

It was while he was playing at Wolverhampton,
in February, some eight months before his death,
that he had a serious premonitory warning of what
was impending. He had already learned that he was
sufferino- from enlaro^ed heart — a ©"rave and serious
danger — and as rest and absence of violent excite-
ment was absolutely necessary for his safety, he
should have withdrawn from work, just as Dickens,
on a premonition of another kind of attack, at once
suspended his readings, though, like Irving, he
unhappily resumed his labours. If ever there was

Cbeatre Ropal Bradford.

Le«ee JOHN HART.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 9th. 1905, FOR SIX NIGHTS.

HENRY IRVING

AND HIS COMPANY.

TUESDAY and FRID.AY NIGHTS, Oct. 10th and I.Uh, at 7.30

BECKETT

By ALFRED LORD TENNYSON.

AD.APIKI) FOR IHK STA(_;E I;V HENRY IRVING.

Ti T> 1 . ' Chancellor of England, | ucwdv iD\/iMr

Thomas Becket -, afterwards Archbishop / HENRY IRVING

Henry II. (King of England) Mr, GERALD LAWRENCE

King Louis of France Mr. H. B. STANFORD

Gilbert Foliot (Bishop of London) Mr. H. ASHETON TONGE

Roger (Archbishop of York) ; Mr. WILLIAM Ll'GG

John of Salisbury I Friends of ( Mr. MARK I'ATON

Herbert of Hosham / Becket ( Mr. JAMES HEARN

John of O.xford (Called the Swearer) Mr. V. REYNOLDS

Sir Reginald Fitzurs- \ The Four Knights of ( Mr. FR.^NK T\'ARS

Sir Richard de Brito I the Kings Household, I Mr. G. GRAVSTONK

Sir William de Tracy (" Enemies of 1 Mr. L. BELMORE

Sir Hugh de .Morville j Becket \ Mr. LESLIE PALMER

Richard de Hastings (Grand Prior of Templars) Mr. J. ARCHF.R

The N'oungest Knight Templar Mr. STF^VIiNS

Lord Leicester Mr. VINCENT STERNROVI)

Philip de ICleemosvna (The Pope's Almoner) Mr. W. ]. VICLD.M.XN

Herald ' ^L; H. R. COOK

Monk -Mr. A. CURNEV

(jeofVrey (Son of Rosamund and Heiuy) Master TC^NCjE

„ . ( Mr. A. FISHER

''^'^••'""^'■^ i Mr. HAYES

^ ( Mr. CHARLES DODSWORTH

Servant Mr. W. MARION

11 r \ . ■ i Oueen (jf England, divorced | ,, rr^ir n \\ i ir'u

I'Jeanor of .Xiiuatainc- { ^ r j ■ r l- 1 Mrs. CECIL R.aLF.KjH

' ( Ironi Louis of France /

Margery Miss GRACE HAMPTON

Rosamund de Cliffotd (Fair Ro>aminid) .Mi^s EDITH W^■NXE MAI IHISON

Knights, Monks, Heralds, Soldiers. Retainers, &c.

['I face vaijc 276.

RING DOWN THE CURTAIN 277

a play likely to bring on a crisis it was surely the
tempestuous 'Bells,' and even 'Becket' was trying
enough. His doctor had specially interdicted the
former piece, but the actor felt that half his attrac-
tion would be gone without it.

" He promised me not to play in ' The Bells '
again," said Dr. Davis to a Wolverhampton
correspondent, " but when I heard of his death I
was much afraid that he had been doinsf so. He
has died from practically the same thing from which
he suffered at Wolverhampton. Sir Henry, how-
ever, always thought of the public, and though
unfit to go on the stage, he persisted in playing
Becket on the second night at Wolverhampton.
An armchair was placed for him in the wings, and
at the conclusion of the more severe parts he fell
into the chair utterly exhausted. It was impossible
to remove him from Wolverhampton for many days,
but complete rest and quiet, combined with his
determination to get into harness again, enabled
him to continue his tour, though the American trip
had to be abandoned and many other important
engagements cancelled." ^

And now was to arrive the fateful closing scene —
almost on the scenic boards — on the night of October
14, 1905, when he, worn, weary of heart, was to
"crack" under its burden. It was at the Theatre
Royal, Bradford, where was welcomed with civic
honours — "freedom of the city," Guildhall lunch.
Mayor in the chair, &c. Here is the bill — the very
last bill of that long fifty years' struggle. The
' Daily Mail, October 1 6.

278 SIR HENRY IRVING

first has been given — and how much between. ^
Here is the usual "Henry Irving" — not the "Sir
Henry."

I take the following account of the last incidents
from the Daily Mail of October i6th : —

" None of his company at the Bradford Theatre
Royal had observed during the performance on
Friday night anything in the bearing of their chief
to warrant the belief that he was ill. If anything,
Sir Henry's portrayal of his favourite character was
more powerful than usual.

" His comrades now recall that once or twice his
step seemed to falter and his hand steal out to sup-
port himself. But the first premonition of anything
serious did not come until the end of the last scene,
where Becket dies. Asa rule, Sir Henry fell prone
on the stage. On Friday night, however, he sank
on the altar steps.

" I do commend my cause to God. . . .
Into Thy hands, O Lord — into Thy hands."

" These, the last words of Becket, were the last
to be uttered on the stage by the great actor.

" For some moments after the curtain had fallen
Sir Henry lay on the altar steps. An attendant
hurried to his assistance, and touching his hands,
found that they 'felt quite cold.' To the inquiry

^ I have an extraordinary collection of Lyceum bills — one
for every night of performance — so most are mere repetitions.
As they are all well bound in volumes, I fancy they had belonged
to the actor himself.

RING DOWN THE CURTAIN 279

whether he was ill, Sir Henry Irving made no
reply.

** The curtain was raised and lowered several times.
Struggling to his feet in a confused way, Sir Henry
turned to Mr. Belmore, his assistant stage-manager,
who offered his hand to pilot him.

•' ' What now ? ' said Sir Henry.

" ' They are calling for you,' answered Mr. Bel-
more. ' You must make a speech, sir.' He hesi-
tated for a moment, then slowly went before the
footlights and spoke a few words of thanks.

" In his room he dressed slowly. He was tired
and exhausted, but not worse than he had been on
two or three previous occasions.

"In this condition the great actor performed a
characteristically kind act. A Bradford boy, aged
fifteen, named Frederick C. P. Mobbs, employed in
a shipping house, had two nights previously made
a sketch of Sir Henry and left it at the stage door
with the request that the actor might be pleased to
attach his autograph to it. The youthful artist
again visited the theatre on Friday night, and after
the conclusion of the performance timidly inquired
of the manager if Sir Henry had yet complied with
his request. He was instructed to wait until the
drawing had been signed. It was returned to him
with the desired autograph at 11.15. A few
minutes later the dying actor was being assisted
into a cab by his valet.

" As Sir Henry entered the cab, he remarked to
him, 'Are you not coming in to-night."*' The
attendant thereupon accompanied him to the Mid-

280 SIR HENRY IRVING

land Hotel, where Sir Henry had engaged a suite
of rooms. His secretary also occupied a seat in the
cab. During the drive Sir Henry rested his feet
on the seat opposite, and seemed in pain, but made
no remark.

" He alighted from the cab without assistance
and walked into the hotel, but as he entered the
hall he stumbled and lurched forward. Mr. Shep-
herd, however, who was immediately behind, caught
him before he could fall." He then asked faintly
for a chair, and when he was seated almost instantly
expired.

There is something pathetic and tragic about
this scene. It was often noted that his last words
on the stage were, " Into Thy hands, O Lord."
R.I. P. But those who are too accustomed to
"visualise" find it hard to shut out the thoughts
and dreams that must have visited him that long
and arduous night. The constricting, deadly grip —
the sinking — the purpose to get through to the
end — the strange feeling between the acts as he
strove to "pull himself together" — what if he
had heard a whisper — " Before midnight the
curtain will have fallen for yoiL, for ever, as well
as for Becket."

The remains of the actor were cremated, accord-
ing to his desire, and at the funeral in the
Abbey were carried in a coffin to their resting-
place. In this there seemed something of the
usual make-believe or simulation of the stage.

The supreme honours of the Abbey were really
paid to the exceeding personality of the man, for

RING DOWN THE CURTAIN 281

it could not be contended that his professional
merits reached the highest standard. The Spectator,
I think of all the journals, was alone in disapproval
of the place of burial. Much could be said on
both sides of the question, and a man of sterner
fibre than the present Dean — such as Dean Stanley
— would not have yielded his consent, save under
the greatest pressure. I give no opinion on the
point, save this, that when public opinion unani-
mously and tumultuously calls for the privilege it
would be ungracious and perhaps impossible to resist.
Even serious objection or discussion in presence of
the unburied is thought scarcely decent ; neither is
there time to discuss, and so the matter is hurried
through. Most impressive was the ceremonial in
the Abbey, the solemn music, the gathering of dis
tinguished persons, and the stately procession.
One of the pall-bearers was a noble lord, the
Earl of Aberdeen ; yet one could not but feel
a little surprise that on such an occasion more of
that company of noble and distinguished people
whom he so often fSted were not in attendance.
This may be but a fanciful notion. But, after all,
he was followed to the grave by the most dis-
tinguished of his own profession, which was the
right thing. The French Comedy sent a deputa-
tion, who brought with them a wreath, and also,
it is believed, a prepared ^loge, which, as might
be expected, was not delivered.

Few can imagine what a personage Irving was
in the eyes of both French and Germans. His
romantic course and methods, his noble and

282 SIR HENRY IRVING

generous hospitalities to foreigners of his pro-
fession, his intimacy with the leading performers,
these things made him quite familiar abroad.
To the leaders — to the immortal Sarah, Coquelin,
Mounet Sully — he was overwhelming in his atten-
tions. The two latter bewailed his loss sincerely,
and were lavish in their praises. Mounet Sully said
of him : " I cannot speak so soon after his death
without emotion of Irving, my brother tragedian
and the master of us all. As a man, as an actor,
and as a manager he stands out as one of the
great figures in the history of the stage. His
nobility of character shone in everything he did,
both on the stage and off it, and I can assure
you that his loss is felt among us here at the
Comedie Fran9aise deeply and sincerely."

The testimony of Coquelin is full and so very
remarkable from its sincerity and obvious truth
that it should be given at length : —

" I hardly know how to find words in which
to express my sorrow," Coquelin said. " Irving
has been my friend for over thirty years. I have
never been to London without seeing him con-
stantly, and scarcely a week has passed throughout
our friendship without some token of his affection
reaching me. Only last week two friends of his
came over who had seen him on his provincial
tour. They told me that he seemed better than
I had hoped, and in brighter spirits, and the news
of his death, coming as it did so quickly after
this sfood news, grave me a shock from which I
have not yet recovered. For we were like

RING DOWN THE CURTAIN 283

brothers, Irving and I, and I am only, as you
know, two years his junior. Yet there is Httle
selfishness, I think and hope, in my sense of loss
at this great man's death — cdtait une tres belle
mort. He always said he hoped to die in harness.
He was a great man, and not England only, but
the whole world loses by his death. He was so
much more than an actor. Irving's life work has
raised the tone not only of the stage, but of all
English art and of the art of the world.

" The man was kindliness incarnate, the manager
was the greatest master of stagecraft and of scenery
in dramatic history, and of such a man's produc-
tions it is almost impossible to speak in detail.
I have seen him, I think, in every play he ever
played.

" As a friend and as a comrade Irvinof was
incomparable. I usually supped with him after
the theatre when I was in London, and I remember
more especially the last hours that I spent with him.
We talked late into the morning of old times and
old experiences, and when I left him I was per-
meated with the indefinable charm of the man —
a charm which had for a basis an unconquerable
and illimitable love for his fellow men, seasoned
with a brilliancy of sparkling wit such as no other
man I know, or have known, possessed.

" I have known brilliant talkers ; I have known
men who were leaders of men (M. Coquelin was
a close friend of Gambetta), but I have never
met anybody whose personal charm or whose
personal nobility of character equalled Henry

284 SIR HENRY IRVING

Irving's. Everybody employed in his theatre,
from the leading actors and actresses to the
dressers and the call-boys, loved him, and one
word from 'the Chief was enough to smooth all
difficulties.

" I could not if I would judge my old friend's
art impartially. He was perhaps greater as a stage-
manager than he was an actor, but he was truly
great in either and every character, and greatest
of all, perhaps, in private life. His grasp of detail
was extraordinary, his power of work was wonder-
ful. I am myself a worker, and I love my pro-
fession. Henry Irving was wrapped up in his.
He lived for it.^

^ I have already pointed out that the actor's temperament had
something akin to that of Dickens. How strange and how Httle
noted was the forecast of impending death, given in " Edwin
Drood": "Cutting out the gravestones of the next two people
destined to die at Cloisterham — curious to make a guess at the
two, or say at o?ie of the two." Within a few weeks he himself
was gone.

CHAPTER XX

CHARACTER AND GENERAL ATTRACTION

ALL who knew Irving intimately must agree
that he was one of the most charming,
interesting men they ever met. He had a
sort of simpHcity and nciivetd that was exceed-
ingly attractive and engaging. That captivating
smile of his worked as a sort of spell. He
never said anything in a dictatorial way, or "laid
down the law " as it is called. He usually put
the matter in a doubtful, interrogatorial way, with
a "Hey, hey — what d'ye think? Eh, now.'*"
This was really Garrick's style. He was all the
time a dreamy, half-poetical creature.

He was not a regularly educated man, but he
had acquired a vast deal of knowledge in a won-
derful way. Nothing was more characteristic than
his notion that he knew French. He had really
" picked up " a great deal about French and
France generally, and he had a general instinct
as to all that was French. He was so intelli-
ofent that he understood a little, and carried it
off somehow — but still, he could not speak the
language. He OdCkd the knowing of French — made

385

286 SIR HENRY IRVING

his few words go far. It really was highly dramatic
to see him carrying on a sort of conversation with
the French actors — all winning smiles and gestures,
and movement, but little language ; but so clever was
he that he always contrived to convey his meaning.

What a orenerous host he was ! how mao^nificent
in his treatment of his guest ! Everything was of
the very best. How often did we hear his kindly,
most pressing invitation — "That's Pommery-Greno
of '93. Try it. Here ! Bring one of the — er — mag-
nums." At one of his vast banquets, when there were
a couple of hundred folk, magnum after magnum
of this Pommery-Greno was emptied. His great
caterer was Gunter, for the little snug supper or
the grand banquet. When the debacle came there
was a huge sum owing to these caterers, but they
were honourably and faithfully paid off within a
short time. His ideas were really magnificent in
every direction ; he would have nothing but of
the best — the very best. Even if you went to
him for one of those midnight suppers in the
beefsteak-room in the Lyceum, you had an ex-
quisite banquet. There was a poor creature who
had to sit up till the guest departed between two
and three a.m., who had looked after the banquet
and then saw his master into the hansom. But
this turning of night into day was a tremendous
strain, and it was wonderful how he bore it so long.

That sagacious man of business and shrewd
observer — his former manager also — Mr. Henry
Labouchere, used to try to advise him, and
begged of him to save; "Again and again I

CHARACTER AND GENERAL ATTRACTION 287

urged him to put by a certain sum, so as to be
independent under all circumstances. He would
reply : ' This is all very well to advise, but a
play at the Lyceum costs a great deal to produce ;
it needs many full houses to get it back, and then
it has to be spent in getting up the next play.'
And I never could convince him that this was
not business. Had it not been for his old friend
Mr. Bram Stoker, he would have been eaten out
of home and theatre very speedily."

"As a man," he goes on in his generous tribute,
" I greatly admired him. He was ever the kindest
and most generous of human beings. Money burnt
holes in his pockets. No one who appealed to him
for assistance — oh, and many did — ever appealed
in vain.i He spent little on himself, but much in
charity and on hospitality, and he wasted a good
deal on superfluity of detail in his pieces."

The same friend gives one of the most accurate
sketches of the actor's dreamy fashion of taking his
pleasures. Once at Twickenham, about midnight,
there entered Irving, who had been dining at Rich-
mond, saying, " He thought he would look in on
him." He had his hansom. He stayed an hour
or so, went off to call on some one at Teddington,
and promised to return. A friend staying with
Labouchere was rather astonished. " Does he
know how late it is?" "Certainly," he replied,

* His kindly thought of his friends was once illustrated when
he was in Scotland at Christmas time, when we, all of his
intimates, received a jar of the choicest old whisky, despatched
from one of the most famous distilleries of the North.

288 SIR HENRY IRVING

" but I have no doubt we shall have him back."
And so he did arrive about two, remaining" till five,
then drivino- back to London. He was fond of
these late, or early, hours. Such was Irving all
over. Who of his friends cannot see him as he
would enter in those small hours with his engaging
smile and his " Eh ! eh ! "

This friend also discusses his professional merits
in his own impartial way. Irving's acting in Shake-
speare was always sensational, " it depended on
something new or striking in the way of ' business '
or readings. Irving could impress an audience
with his own personality, but he never seemed to
me able to carry them away, and consequently
had to depend on other methods to capture
them. But he never passed the line where art
ends and gejiius begins.'' How true is this! He
was not capable of those natural outbursts of feel-
ing which sweep the hearer off his feet. He had
no tempestuousness in his passion, when the words
tumble forth in confusion — on top of each other
as it were. On the contrary, he grew slow and
yet slower. Every one knows that when danger
is at hand, pressing us close — the voice trembles,
we hurry in speech — speak low for fear of being
heard. But with Irving — the greater the crisis, the
more his words became like " minute guns." ^

' In the ' Lyons Mail,' when Dubosc was rifling the letter-bags,
this was shown conspicuously. At such a moment everything
would be excitement and hurry — not a moment to be lost — and
this would affect the spectator. But no ; Irving was as slow and
leisurely and making long speeches.

"what a KMGIIT we're HAVINi;!"

Davtd CtAUKU'K : " Coiigraf.ulato you, Sir Heiiry, in tlic Naiiio of tlic ProlV'ssiiui !

May you live long, and ])rosper ! "

l'"riMii the Ciirtoou by Liiili^y Siuubounu;. By peviiiission of llie Proprietors of " I'uiiL'h."

[To face imr)e. 28:

CHARACTER AND GENERAL ATTRACTION 289

His unaffected modesty and total lack of "side,"
even at his greatest prosperity, were extraordinary,
and recalled Dickens, who always seemed to me the
most modest man of his time. He took no airs. I
recollect him one night at supper, when he com-
plained to me of a stage carpenter who would care-
lessly leave a pail in the wing, over which the
actor would trip as he impetuously "came off." I
hear him quietly stating his grievance. " I remon-
strated with the man. He said he couldn't help it.
'But, my friend,' I said, 'you should try. Would
it not be a serious thing for me if I broke my leg
over your pail. I am sure you would be sorry, but
that would be no good to me.' He went away
grumbling." This was said in a gentle voice, as
though the man had rights in the matter. Yet on
a word from Irving^ he could have "g"Ot the sack."
The legends of Irving's liberality are almost incred-
ible. We hear of some tale of distress, with ^loo
or ^50 sent off as a solatium. Any old friend fallen
on evil time might rely on help. No doubt he had a
satisfaction in this princely lavishness : it ministered
to his state, though this was far from being the
motive. And the variety of shapes his hospitality
took seemed inexhaustible. Here was a delightful
summer evening. He must gather all his friends on
board a chartered Thames steamer, and go down to
Greenwich. In those days whitebait dinners were
still in vogue. What an agreeable, parti-coloured
complexion had those feasts — actors, actresses,
writers, lawyers, musicians — but all of the Irving
"set," and therefore more or less homogeneous.

290 SIR HENRY IRVING

Those of his own theatrical household he never
forgot. Witness Alexander, then his ideal " young
first," with his charming, vivacious wife. Then
came the return at midnight, a delightful sail back,
on the river. I have mentioned how on one
summer Sunday morning a hansom cabman
arrived express with a letter from " the Chief,"
inviting to a day at Dorking with the French
Company of " La Comedie." What a delight-
ful day that was ! We had Delaunay, Mounet
Sully, Coquelin, I think, and another — with Sir F.
Pollock and his son, Campbell, the present Mr.
Burdett-Coutts, and some others. We had lunch
at one of the old inns, and I noted as we
walked about afterwards how careful was our
host to seize any opportunity to increase his
popularity. A young man staying at the hotel
spoke to him, and Irving answered him cordially
and presently offered one of his own choice
cigars. The Frenchmen were deeply affected by
his goodwill, and made ineffectual attempts to under-
stand. Sumptuous as was the lunch, it did not
suffice, and we returned to dine at the Garrick
in superior style. So with the Meiningen Per-
formers. There were great banquets for them, and
they were treated with the same lavish hospitality,
which was shared by us all.

Irving was extraordinarily fortunate in his figure
and general appearance. It was truly picturesque
and quite remarkable. It used to be said that there
were only three or four men whom people would
turn to look after in the street — Mr. Gladstone, Car-

CHARACTER AND GENERAL ATTRACTION 291

dinal Mannins:, and Irvingr. He was fortunate in
his spare figure, his dark wavy hair, and finely cut
features. It is curious that this should not have
been the original type, for in the days of his
early youth we find him a rather conventional-
looking young man with a full moustache. It is
clear that he developed the later style by a sort of
intellectual effort, by earnestly concentrating his
thoughts on characters, feelings, passions, &c. He
wore his features down and refined them : and so
his face acquired a spiritual look. There was the
fine forehead, well-cut nose, and beautifully ex-
pressive mouth. He added a slightly eccentric
style of dress, a tall, broad-brimmed hat, a low
collar, and a curiously cut coat, with " flowing "
collar and skirt. In this he suggested Dickens.
His voice — his natural voice — was low, sweet, and
winning, but his walk in private, as on the stage,
was strao"Q-linQf and ungraceful. Yet these oddities
were interesting, and meant absence of affectation,
and that he was careless about such matters. He
was, indeed, a most attractive man, and had he been
single would certainly have captivated some dame
of high degree.

With such attractions it is a surprise that no
fitting portrait has been left of the actor. Millais,
Edwin Long, and Whistler have been the most
conspicuous artists to whom he sat. Millais' effort
is a side face of a sketchy sort, the colouring poor,
and the likeness not very striking ; Long shows
him as Hamlet, and is an interesting picture ;
Whistler's is a shadowy thing in his own special

292 SIR HENRY IRVING

style, and I well remember the ridicule with which
it was greeted. It brought a high price at the sale.
The sculptors have not been more successful.
Onslow Ford's sitting figure of him as Hamlet is
rather ungainly in attitude, and has little romance or
feeling. There is an early bust by Joseph, I think —
also prosaic enough — casts of which he used to give
his friends. And there is a statuette of him as
Mathias in ' The Bells.' The finest, most thought-
ful and expressive reproduction of his face was
assuredly the Cameron photograph of him as
Becket, the frontispiece of this volume. His many
admirers will be glad to have it.

Not many weeks after the actor's death, his
numerous effects, curios, and general collections
were "brought to the hammer" at Christie's. It
was quite a gala time and caused some excitement.
The fashionable dowagers with their daughters
crowded into the rooms, certainly not with inten-
tion of purchase. Que font Us dans ce galere ?
No one could answer that. It was the same at the
time of Dickens' sale, when such extravagant prices
were realised. Never was there such a hetero-
geneous collection as was now exhibited. It
seemed like walking through the rooms of some
old curiosity shop, for there were pictures, armour,
china, bronzes, books, figures, ornaments. The
effect, however, was not unpleasing. The actor
seems to have followed his fancy and purchased
whatever pleased him at the time. The attraction
of the whole was the portrait of himself as Philip, by
Whistler, and that gaudy presentment of Miss Terry,

CHARACTER AND GENERAL ATTRACTION 293

by Sargent, each fetching a large sum. Among
the books the most interesting were the " Gran-
gerised" copies of memoirs, notably that of Dickens's
life, enriched with rare portraits, autographs, letters,
&c.^ The money received for the whole was close
on ;^ 1 9,000.

Irvinof was much honoured in "Clubland." He was
a member of four distinguished clubs — the Reform,
the Garrick, the Athenaeum, and the Marlborough.
Rarely has an actor been so honoured. At the
Garrick he was a power. There he received his
friends to dinner and supper, and there he knew
every one. To the Athenaeum he was elected in
its complimentary way, viz., under Rule 2, and by
choice of the committee. It may be doubted, how-
ever, whether he would have been admitted within
its august portals by the ordinary ballot. This we
might forecast from the fate of another distinguished
player, who was later excluded by a rather un-
handsome combination. The Marlborough was
truly "select," being at the time recognised as the
Prince of Wales's own club, and who appeared to
nominate its members.

Irvinsf had ever a sort of romantic interest in
the Roman Catholic Church and its ceremonial
orandeur. I often think that he fancied he was
somehow affiliated to it, from having so often

' The fluctuations of taste and fashion are shown by the loss
of interest in this Grangerising process. For owing to the rise in
the price of prints, portraits, and letters, it is found more profitable
to " break up " these collections, made at such cost and trouble,
and sell the component items separately,

294 SIR HENRY IRVING

fig-ured as one of its ecclesiastics on the stage.
Cardinals, bishops, priests, religious processions,
rites, altars, sanctuaries — all these he was perfecdy
familiar with, and he had "made up" by the most
careful inquiries all details that were necessary.
It was said that he obtained his Cardinal's robes
through a Catholic house of business, and cer-
tain of the faith were said to have advised him
in that department. At all events, there was a
tenderness in his bearing towards the Church.
He knew the two Cardinals Manning and Vaughan,
and had many Catholic friends. On the first
performance of ' Becket ' he, as usual, gave
his friends and acquaintances a handsome banquet
on the stage. We remained on and on until
it came to nigh two in the morning. I well
remember his coming down to the door in his
monastic robes and tonsure, which he had worn
through the supper. He was dreamily placid,
delighted with every one and with himself — he
seemed to be half Irving, half the monk : for as I
passed into the street, wishing him good-night, he
wrung my hand slowly and warmly, uttering at the
same time a fervent benediction: " God bless you!
God bless you ! " For a second he seemed to be in
real orders, or a sort of orders. Cardinal Vaughan
invited him to give a reading at Archbishop's
House, for his schools. And the actor agreed
cordially : he came and read ' Macbeth ' with great
spirit to a vast number of priests, who would
otherwise never have seen or heard him. One of
the school girls came forward and prattled some

CHARACTER AND GENERAL ATTRACTION 295

complimentary lines, and it was delightful to see
the actor transformed into the good Vicar of
Wakefield and smiling encouragingly on the child.

The question has been often discussed : Was
Irving's stage system good ? Was the Lyceum
school conducive to the general effect ? This
really raises the question of actor-managership,
which is a sort of amiable despotism. For it is
admitted that any performer who attempts to take
full scope and license would interfere with the ruler.
Hence Irving's rigidity, compelling all to be subor-
dinate : to indulge in no strong or distracting efforts.
It was almost amusingf to see how all this was
unconsciously felt and quietly enforced.

And what has been the effect on the stage of
this modern institution of actor-manager ? In truth,
Irvinor miwht be considered the first and most
successful. Of course, there had been actors long
before him who were also manaofers, such as
Garrick, Macready, and Phelps. But these were
not manager-actors in the modern sense. Garrick,
Macready, and Phelps were all members of a
company, and allowed members of the company to
be as prominent as themselves. The play was
dominant. Play succeeded play in the course
of the week, so that every one's turn came
round. Charles Kean and his wife, indeed, rather
engrossed the whole attraction of a scene, and
may be said to have been precursors of Irving
and Miss Terry. This modern system is founded,
strangely enough, on a liking for the person and
character of a leading player. Audiences grow

296 SIR HENRY IRVING

to love their player ; they like to see him ; they
relish his ways, tones, defects even. They go to see
him, not his play or his " show." Hence he
naturally thinks that the more he can give of
himself to the exclusion of disturbing elements
the better. At another person's theatre, he must
take his place in the ranks ; for others have their
claims. He is thus gradually encouraged to seek
an exclusive domain of his own, where he can rule
and be the central figure. Irving set the example
for this system, which he carried on successfully for
twenty years. His example was duly followed by
every successful performer, and the motto, " One
man, one theatre," has become "your only wear."
Alexander, Tree, Maude, Seymour Hicks, Wynd-
ham, Terry, Bourchier, and others all represent the
system in full force. It is obvious that it is hardly
a healthy one for the stage, as the result of
Irving's twenty years' experiment has shown. It
has indirectly destroyed the general taste for " the
play." It has all but extinguished the dramatist,
who ought to have a company to write for, not a
single actor or a "show." Curiously enough, Irving
was to exemplify this state of things, for when he
came to cast about for original plays he found none
that would suit him or his conditions. There is but
little dramatic interest in these " one-man " parts ;
and thus it came about that after this long series of
years the public showed signs of fatigue, if not
of indifference. Of course, as might be expected,
for their own credit audiences will cling to their
pld favourite, but still the old idolatrous devotion

CHARACTER AND GENERAL ATTRACTION 297

is a thing of the past. And now, as we look
round, what do we find as the result of the system ?
The stage mainly in possession, not of the drama,
but of showmen and shows ! — for musical comedy,
we are told, is " the natural expression of English
taste." There are a few sketchy plays mainly
furnished by a writer of foreign extraction, but
these possess what attraction they have, not
owing to the manager-actor, but to an equal
distribution of interest among the characters.
In short, then, two elements — the " one-man "
play and the exhibition of shows — must destroy
all interest in the purer intellectual delight
of real drama. In fact, as Mr. Hare said recently
with excusable exaggeration, " By and by there
will be no ' play ' at all." No one could say
that this was from selfishness or jealousy — it was
the system. It must disturb the balance. There
was one great central force and attraction, all the
others were softened down and graduated. Thus
there was a harmonious whole. ^

But would we find further proof of the failure of
this actor-manager principle we have only to con-
sider the case of Irvino; himself. No one ever

' Once, and once only, I saw Irving actually " played down "
almost to extinction by one of his own comrades, and in his own
theatre. It was at a performance of ' Robert Macaire ' for a
charity, and Toole had good naturedly volunteered for Jacques
Strop. Never was there such an exhibition. Poor Macaire
could not get in a word. Toole completely overpowered him,
"gagging" eternally, inventing "business," in fact dominating
the whole to roars of laughter. Irving had virtually to look on.
Yet this was all done with the best intentions,

298 SIR HENRY IRVING

received more money from the public ; in one
year, and in perhaps more, he " took at the doors "
close on ^100,000. His yearly profit must have
been always from ;^8,ooo to ^10,000. Yet at his
death he left nothing. Nothing saved or put by.
True, his curios and relics brought nigh ^19,000
owing to the factitious enthusiasm of the moment.
Here was the result of actor-management ; it was so
with Charles Kean, and will be so with many who
are now actor-managing. The truth is, the actor
and the manager are distinct professions, and
cannot be combined. They are both most difficult
professions, requiring skill, instinct, and training.
The actor-manager really does not manage, for
management means the controlling of a large
corps of clever persons, with study of their special
gifts with a view to setting them out profitably, and
to the best advantage. The actor has none of this
class to attend to, nothing but to set off his own
personal advantages in the best way, and to make
the most of his own popularity. When this
popularity begins to wane his fortunes wane also.
Irving, I noticed, was never quite at home in
other theatres than his own, as when he played
in a grand combination version of ' The School
for Scandal.' The best and choicest of the profes-
sion had volunteered even for the smallest parts.
But Irving had Joseph. " How fine," said every
one, "he will be. Suit him down to the orround !
Fancy the screen scene ! " Never was there a
greater disappointment ; it was really the worst
Joseph one had ever seen. He was perpetually

CHARACTER AND GENERAL ATTRACTION 299

changing his legs, jumping up and down. Half
he said was scarcely heard ; it was at Old Drury,
but it was clear to all that he had no conception
of the part. He could only give it his own habitual
resources ; strange jerks, queer tones and general
restlessness.

Still, it must be said, a vast deal has been done
for Shakespeare at the Lyceum. What a long
series, and how splendidly presented ! What an
education during twenty years ! Nothing can be
so true, and we are under infinite obligations to
him. Even granting that the system of illustration
is the best, if persisted in, it must lead to
catastrophe. For it is too costly and over-
whelming. Again, the list of performing Shake-
spearian plays is not very long. Yet it would seem
almost impossible to get the public to accept any
beyond those they are well accustomed to. A
strange phenomenon surely ! The more favoured
are ' Hamlet,' ' Macbeth,' ' As You Like It,' ' Henry
VHL,' 'Much Ado About Nothing,' 'Henry IV.' and
' Henry V.,' ' Midsummer's Night Dream,' ' Othello,'
* Richard III.' and one or two more. ' Richard II.,'
'Twelfth Night,' and ' Cymbeline ' had been at-
tempted by Irving, but with little success. One
often wished that he had brought forward ' The
Tempest,' which many conceived would have
suited him and his theatre admirably ; he would
have declaimed Prospero in a noble, stately fashion,
but he shrank from the duller and heavier moments.
I have already insisted that the ' Twelfth Night'
was one of his most beautiful and poetical efforts :

300 SIR HENRY IRVING

the scenery and his own acting were all but
perfect. But t'would not do, it was coldly if not
hostilely received.

Irvinof will be recollected not so much for his
acting as for these Shakespearian revivals. Not
that all can be considered to have been in the best
and most complete taste ; indeed it may be that in a
generation or two his revivals will be classed with
those of Macready and the Charles Keans, which
were just as much extolled. Mr. Tree has long
since entered the field as a competing revivalist, and
has gone "one better," and is more " up to date."
Irving's changes and illustration were often matters
of critical taste. But he ever showed a reverent
respect for his art. Mr. Tree's are guided by
no principle but that of dealing with the bard as
though be had lived in our day, and of making his
humorous characters funny on modern lines. ^

The absurdity of the modern system of decorat-
ing Shakespeare, or piling on him ornaments, can
be shown by one specimen — the burial scene of
Ophelia. It will serve as a typical instance. Every
manager at once says, " Here we must have
a procession — king, queen, priests, censers, lights,
copes, &c., and solemn music from the organ in an

' Thus Bottom was fashioned into a sort of London clown.
The part was amplified and extended for the benefit of the
manager, who played it, so that it became the chief character of
the play. Yet, strange to say, this adapter gave us, beyond
doubt, the finest representation of 'Julius Caesar' that it was possible
to imagine. Antony's speech, and the whole scene of the crowds,
&c,, were really unsurpassable. O sic omties !

CHARACTER AND GENERAL ATTRACTION 301

adjoining church." All wrong, for Ophelia was
debarred from rites, and was buried as a suicide —
a single priest officiating, with no procession, I
myself doubt whether any great effect is produced
by these processions, battles, armies, combats and
such shows. They are never convincing. It is
clear to the spectator that the "super" soldiers
tumble down of their own motion, so as " to make
believe " that they are killed. I was always rather
astonished that Irving did not think out some
new and original method of illustration, based on
a profound study of the bard, and search out what
is the minimum, not the maximum, of illustration.
But he really favoured the old stagey and stale
methods. Often did I all but implore him to
discard the cumbrous and expensive "built-up"
structures and revert to the " cloths," and he used
to promise ; or he would turn it aside with a
pleasant smile. "Cloths" painted artistically, with
vivid colour, have an exceeding dramatic effect.
I am afraid his taste in many directions was a
little corrupt.

It grew to be almost a custom that I had to
collect for him for the particular play that was being
got up, all the points, effects, readings of great
actors, bits of emphasis, " business," &c., recorded
in the scattered " Memoirs." He found this very
useful. I thus found for him the criticisms on Le
Maitre in ' Robert Macaire.' I even manufactured
a sort of refrain of a sons: about " toilinor and
moiling," which he used to "hum" as he lounged
about in his part.

302 SIR HENRY IRVING

As a training school for acting, and particularly
for elocution, emotional emphasis and the rest, it
must be said Irving's teaching and example were
unsatisfactory. This was specially shown in his
Shakespearian productions, and was the result of
the manager's rigid, well-thought out system of
effacing, as it were, his followers. They were
to be figures — graceful, interesting figures — but
without prominence. They seemed to be allowed
to recite their beautiful lines in a sort of lisfht,
chattering style, as young men of our day would
talk. The verses were turned into running prose,
and the pace was so fast and the utterance so
indistinct, that it was difficult to gather the mean-
ing. All had the same methods and seemed
indistinguishable one from the other. There was
nothing illiberal in this ; as I have said it was his
system. The two principals were the real actors ;
on them was the whole attention to be concen-
trated, undivided and undistracted.

I think it is within the experience of many, that
at dinner parties in those days, Irving usually
came in for much good-natured attack. " I hate
him, he is quite ridiculous," would the ladies say.
The general voice, without exception, was for the
enchanting and captivating Ellen, then in her
prime, ever engaging and winsome. They *' grew
wanton in her praise." The truth was, Irving in
those days preached much. When launched on
a long verified soliloquy he fell into a lugubrious
and most monotonous chant which, as in the case
of Peter Magnus, "amused his friends very much."

CHARACTER AND GENERAL ATTRACTION 303

The effect on persons who had never seen him
before was often surprising, the extraordinary tones
emitted by the actor at moments of agitation being
truly unique and astonishing. When he would
express passionate grief, it took the shape of
strange croonings, yelpings, and animal noises.
All his pronunciations such as "Gud" for God,
" wammin " for "women" became intensified.
Where, or why, or how he engendered this ex-
pression of emotion it is hard to say. It clung
to him to the last, and his more fanatical adherents
thought it all very beautiful. And the same emotion
produced that queer, limping gait. He revelled in
these long speeches, hence the secret of his fondness
for Wills, who knew how to supply him.

Most of Irving's gifts were exterior. He had
true glamour, a gracious presence, a romantic
bearing, but little real passion, though he could
simulate it in a sort of effective way. His curious
tones in grief or anger were generally inappro-
priate and often opposed to the sense of the words ;
strange as it may seem, he suggested a lack of
training and education. And yet it was not always
so. His early efforts were admirably finished,
correct in style, his elocution good. I have men-
tioned the extraordinary deterioration of his playing
in ' The Two Roses,' his making a complete and
rough caricature of what was formerly the highest
and sincerest bit of comedy. No doubt the
absence of control, the want of some one to advise
and tell him the truth, the abundant compliments
and flatteries that pursued him only confirmed him

304 SIR HENRY IRVING

in his ways, and could not encourage correction or
improvement.

Again, it was extraordinary that one who gave
certain characters so perfectly, should have done
others so badly and poorly. What could have
been more natural, easy and appealing, than
his Vicar of Wakefield, so genuinely affecting and
affectionate, so full of little engaging ways! It
was, as I have always said, a perfect performance.
He looked the part admirably. His Shylock, also,
would pass anywhere, and in any theatre, as a
really finished and finely interpreted character.
Louis XI. also was remarkable, though the
hypocrisy was a little too marked and panto-
mimic.

It is sad that in almost the last words of this
perhaps too partial account I should record that,
though some months have elapsed since his death,
the great actor's name is scarcely mentioned. He
seems, indeed, forgotten. For many a " cheap "
celebrity, there are committees and subscriptions
and memorials and statues ; but nothing of the
kind has been even suggested.

Looking back across the flood of criticism that
since the actor's death has burst through the
fiood-gates, and weighing the absurd raptures —
the unkind — the praises of the wrong thing, the
appreciation that seems fairest and most just was
the one in the Times the morning after his
death. Nothing can be more temperate, more
judicious.

Such was Henry Irving, the actor and the man.

CHARACTER AND GENERAL ATTRACTION 305

An actor of high and unusual pretension, interesting
and romantic, while he must be counted a reformer
of the stage ; a man of a most attractive kind, of
winning and engaging character.

INDEX

Abbey, Mr,, the American man-
ager, 145, 152, 187

A' Beckett, Arthur, 37

Aberdeen, Earl of, 281

Addison, Joseph, 34

Adelphi, The, 119, 207

Adrastus in ' Ion,' 4

Advertiser, 37

Ai'de, Hamilton, 59

Albery, 42, 49

Alexander, George, 231, 243, 290,
296; in 'Faust,' 174; in 'The
Amber Heart,' 192 ; introduc-
tion to Irving, 135

Alhambra, The, 209

' Alice Sit-by-the-Fire,' 259

Alma Tadema, R.A., 124,210,235,
236

'Amber Heart, The,' by Calmour,
188, 192

American tours, Irving's, 155-160,
187,264, 273,275,277

Amersfoot in 'The Loan of a
Lover,' 15

' L'Ami Fritz,' 50

Andrew Aguecheek, Sir, 162

Andrews, 92

Andrews, Dr. Thomas H., 157

' Annibal,' by Regnier, 136

Antigone, no

Antoine, 267

Antonio in ' The Merchant of
Venice,' 103, 105, 107

Antony in 'Julius Cajsar,' 298

Archbishop's House, 294

Archer, 92

Archer, William, 71

Ariel, 84

Arnold, Mr., 48

Arthur in ' King John,' 85

" Art of Acting, The," 170, 171

"Art of Acting, The," by Fitz-
gerald, 36

Ashbourne, Lord, 70

Ashton in ' Ravenswood,' 211,
212

Astley's Theatre, 86

' As You Like It,' 297

Athenaeum, The, Manchester, 29

Athenaeum Club, 293

Afhenceum, The, 35

Auerbach's Cellar, 176

Austin, Alfred, 188

Avenue Theatre, 192

Baillet, Georges, 244
Bainbridge, Captain, 25
Baird, Dorothea, as Trilby, 40
Bancroft, Sir Squire, 197, 243
Banquo's Ghost, 203, 205
Bar nay, 195
Barrie, J. M., 259

307

308

INDEX

Bartet, 244

Bartlett, Mr. (see Burdett-Coutts,

Mr.)
Bashford, 243
Bateman, Isabel, 47, 51, 58, 62, 80 ;

as Ophelia, 64 ; as the Queen in

' Charles I.,' 56
Bateman, Miss, 80 ; as Lady Mac-
beth, 66, 67 ; as Leah, 46
Bateman, Mr., "the Colonel," 46,

47. 48, 50. 5i> 54. 57. 64, 65, 75,

80, 104
Bateman, Mrs., 47 ; as manageress

of the Lyceum, 64, 65, 69, 77, 79,

80,87
Beaconsfield, Lord, 37, 142
Beatrice, 147, 148, 150, 259
Beatty- Kingston, 195
Beazely, 82
'Becket,' 123, 217, 221, 224, 225,

227, 228, 229, 237, 258, 265, 274,

275. 277. 278, 281, 292, 294
Beefsteak-room, The, 118, 177,

195
Behenna, Sarah (Mrs. Brodribb),

1,7.8
Belford, 197
Bellario in 'The Merchant of

Venice,' 105
' Bellows-mender, The,' 99
' Belle's Stratagem, The,' 34, 126,

133
' Bells, The,' 48, 50-54,72, 116, 131,

155, 186, 191, 210, 228, 258, 265,

273, 274, 277
Belmore, George, 56, 279 ; as

Cromwell, 58
Benedick, 147, 148, 150
Benedict, Sir Julius, 91, 141
Benson Company, The, 219
Bentley, 80
Bernhardt, Sarah, 145, 180, 268,

282 ; as Hamlet, 63 ; in ' Phedre,'

61
' Bill Sikes,' 39, 210

' Birthplace of Podgers, The,' by

Hollingshead, 131
Bishop, 92 ; as Mr. Ashton in

' Ravenswood,' 211
Black, William, 188
' Black-Eyed Susan,' 54
Blaine, 157
Blanchard, E. L., 37
Blanche Haye in 'Ours, 86
Booth, Edwin, 22, 125, 126, 127,

131. 132 ; as lago, 129, 130 ; as

Othello, 128
' Boots at the Swan,' 6
Boswell, 26

Bottom the Weaver, 144, 298
Boucicault, Dion, 22, 30, 31, 32,33,

37. 38, 40
Bourchier, Arthur, 108, 294
" Boz," 76, 210
" Boz " Club, 273
Bradford, Midland Hotel, 279 ;

Theatre Royal, 277-278
Brereton, Austin, 3
Brewster, Attorney-General, 158
Brewster, Corporal, 237, 238,

274
' Bride of Lammermoor,' 209
Bright, Mr. John, 168, 169
Britannic, The, 155
Broderick, Waite, 10
Brodribb, John Henry {see Irving,

Sir Henry)
Brooke, G. V., 22
Brooksbanks, Mrs., 151
Brough, 39, 243
Brown, Ford Madox, 235
Browne, Hablot, 49
Browning, Robert, i88, 200
Brunt, Mr,, 10
Buckingham, 214, 219
Buckingham, Leicester, 37
Buckstone, 47, 133
Burchell in ' Olivia,' 92
Burdett-Coutts, Baroness, 72, 82,

93.99

INDEX

309

Burdett-Coutts, Mr., 82, 290

Burgin, Mr., 225

Burnand, F. C, 50

Burne-Jones, Sir E., 234, 235, 236

Butler, Bishop, 183

Byron, Henry, 102, 188

' Bygones,' by Pinero, 237

Cabdrivers' Benevolent Associa-
tion, 250
Caleb Decie ift ' The Two Roses,'

44, 134
Calmour, Mr., 188, 191, 209

Calvert, Charles, 23, 25

Cambridge University, U.S.A., 171

Cameron photographs, 292

Camma in ' The Cup,' 122

Carden, Sir R., 68

Carlyle, Robert, 116,267

Carr, Comyns, 233, 263, 264

Carr, Mrs. Comyns, 201

Castle, Egerton, 196

' Catherine and Fetruchio,' 39

Celeste, Madame, 13

Chambers, Mr., 31, 32

Champaigne, Philippe de, 184

' Charles I.,' 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58,

75, 156, 237
Chateau-Renaud in 'The Corsican

Brothers,' 115, 118
Chevenix in ' Uncle Dick's Dar-
ling,' 36, 41
' Chief, The ' (see Irving, Sir

Henry)
Childs, Mr., of New York, 194
Chippendale, Mr., as Polonius, 62,

63 ; presents Irving with Kean's

sword, 72
Chippendale, Mrs., 92
Christie's, 292
Church of England Temperance

Society, 247
Cibber, Colley, 66

Clara Douglas in ' Money,' 86

Claretic, Jules, 179, 244 ; appre-
ciation of Irving, 183-185

Clarke, Campbell, 180

Clarke, Sir Edward, 4

Clarke, Hamilton, 90, 91, 114, 220

Claude Melnotte in ' The Lady of
Lyons,' 19, 21,98

' Claudian,' 231

Clayton, John, 56 ; as Cromwell,

57
Clement Street Opera House, 157

Cleomenes, 10

Cloisterham, 284

Coleridge, Lord, 153, 154, 241

Coleridge, Miss, 92

Coleridge, Stephen, 241

Collins, Wilkie, 188

Colman, 100

Comedie Frangaise (French

Comedy), 179, 180, 181, 185,

243, 244, 281, 282, 290
Commines, 184
Conquest, G., 243
Conway, Mr., in ' Faust,' 174
Cook, Dutton, 86
Coquelin aine, 52, 180, 181, 182,

183, 185, 186,282, 283, 284, 290
Coquelin cadet, 244
Cordelia, 84, 222
' Coriolanus,' 210, 235, 266, 270
Cork, The Mayor and Corporation

oi, IS5
'Corsican Brothers, The,' 115, 118,

123, 132, 237
Court Theatre, 86, 87, 166
Craig, Gordon, 235, 258
Cramp, Charles E., 157
Craven, Hawes, 88, 89, 126, 172,

220
Creswick, 3, 19
Cromwell, 57
Crosby Hall, 20, 21
Croydon Lecture Hall, 84
Crummies, 273 ; Mrs., 47

310

INDEX

'Cup, The/ by Tennyson, 121,

123, 126, 132, 223
' Cupid's Messenger,' 191, 192
Curran, 3

Cushman, Charlotte, 13
' CymbeHne,' 255, 297

Dabbs, Dr., 229

Daily Mail, 277, 278

Daily News, 37, 86

Daily Telegraph, 37, 180

' Daisy's Escape,' by Pinero, 87

' Dante,' 229, 230, 268, 269

Darbyshire, A., 93

Davenport Brothers, 29

" David Copperfield," 170

Davis, Alfred, 8, 9

Davis, Dr., 275

Davis, L. Clark, 157

Day, Philip, 29

' Dead Heart, The,' 207, 208, 265

' Deadman's Point,' 50

' Dearer than Life,' 39

' Defence of Hamilton Rowan,' 3

Delaunay, 180, 290

D'Enghien, Due, 267

Derby, Lord, 155

Desdemona, 120

Desmoulins, Camille, 184

Dickens, Charles, 3, 22, 36, 37, 38,

44; 151, 209, 231, 259, 272, 276,

284, 289,291, 292, 293
Dickens, Charles, the younger, 37
Diderot, 183
Digby Grant in ' The Two Roses,'

37
Dillon, Charles, 13
Disraeli {see Beaconsfield, Lord)
' Distant Relations,' 84
Dixie, 231
' Dr. Faustus,' 192
Dogberry, 144
Doge's Court, 270

" Dombey," 37

' Don, The,' by Herman Merivale,
209

Donaldson, Tom, 157

' Don Quixote,' 55, 238, 239

Dore, Gustave, 235

Doricourt in ' The Belle's Strata-
gem,' 34, 35

Dornton in 'The Road to Ruin,'

38
Dorrit, 45
D'Orsay, 114

' Double Marriage, The,' 85
Downing, Robert W., 158
Doyle, Dr. Conan, 237
" Drama, The," 249
" Dream of Eugene Aram," 47
Drury Lane, 20, 40, 70, 134, 197
Dublin, Queen's Theatre, 16
Dublin, Theatre Royal, 38, 83, 90
Dublin University, 170
Dubosc, 39, 211, 288
' Due Job,' by Got, 136
Dudlay, A., 244
Duke of Orleans, 9
Diirer, Albert, 172

Edinburgh Lyceum, 155
Edinburgh Philosophical Institute,

170
Edinburgh Theatre Royal, 12, 14,

16
Edward Mortimer, Sir, in ' The

Iron Chest,' 100, loi
" Edwin Drood," 284
Elaine, 234
' Elia,' 203, 216
Eliot, George, 36
Elkington's, 104
Ellison, 217
Elliston, 58
"Elsass" life, 50
Elsworthy, Miss, 19

INDEX

311

Emery, Sam, 37

Emery, Miss Winifred (Mrs. Cyril

Maude), 92 ; as Marguerite, 177 ;

in 'The Two Roses,' 136
Emilia in 'Othello,' 129
Emmett, Robert, 210
" Enchanted Lake, The," 10
Erckmann-Chatrian, 50
' Eugene Aram,' 50, 55, 57, 170,

210
" Eugene Aram's Dream," 159
' Everyman,' 265
Exeter, Lord, 81

' Falcon, The,' by Tennyson, 120

Falkland in ' The Rivals,' 39

' False Shame,' by F. Marshall,

' Fanchette,' 48

Faucit, Helen, 13, 98 ; as lolanthe,

m ; in ' King Rene's Daughter,'

no
' Faust,' 55, 104, 174-178, 187-189,

233> 237. 265
' Faust and Marguerite,' 25
Fawcett, Miss, 151
Fawcitt, Amy, 44 ; as Lottie in

' The Two Roses,' 135
Feely, Miss, 265
Ferguson, Dr., 29
Figaro, The, 178
Fitzwilliam, Mrs., 133
Fladgate, Mr., 203
' Flying Dutchman, The,' by

Wagner, 75
Forbes, Norman, as Wilford in

'The Iron Chest,' loi
Ford, Onslow, 193, 292
' Foresters, The,' 223
' Formosa,' by Boucicault, 40
Forster, John, 55, 200
Forster, Mrs. John, 72
Fox, Daniel M., 158

Fox, George S., 158

Fox, Miss Hattie, 158

French Opera Comique, Burning
of the, 177

Fun and " The Fashionable Trage-
dian," 68

Furniss, Harry, 266

Gaiety Theatre, 41

Gambetta, 283

'Gamester, The,' 210

Garrick, 27, 66, 72, 96, 140, 235,

247, 285, 295
Garrick Club, 153, 180, 203, 290.

293
Garrick Theatre, 108

General Theatrical Fund dinner,

198

' Gentleman Joe,' 25

" George, The," 72

" George and Vulture," 3

German, Edward, 91, 219

Gertrude in ' The Little Treasure,'

85
Gilbert, 188

Giles Overreach, Sir, 100
Gladstone, 120, 122, 153, 154, 155,

241, 242, 290
Glasgow, Glover's Theatre, 22
" God be with you till we meet

again," 274
" God save the King," 25
Goethe, 141, 169, 170
Goldsmith, Oliver, 34
Gosse, E. W., 188
Got, 130, 185
Granville, Lord, 242
Gratiano in ' The Merchant of

Venice,' 107
Green, Miss K. N., 158
Gregoire in ' The Wandering

Boys,' 14.
Grossmith, Weedon, 190

312

INDEX

Guinevere, 234
Gunter, 177, 286
' Guy Fawkes," 27

Hackney, Mabel, 40, 265

Halliday, 44

' Hamlet,' 29, 51, 60-63, 75,93, HQ,

151, 153, 185, 216, 291, 297
Hare, John, 86, 243, 295
Harker, 220
Harlow, 215
Harpagon, a, 185
Harper's Magazine, 181, 213
Harris, A., 19, 90
Harris, Sir Augustus, 240, 243
Harvard University, 170
Harvey, Martin, 63
Hatton, Joseph, i, 2, 34, 155
Haviland, 92, 231
Haydon, Judge William, 157
Haymarket, 40, 47, 85, 87, 133, 197
Heath, Miss, 22
Henderson, Alexander, 30
' Henry IV,,' 297
' Henry V.,' 297
'Henry VIH.,' 88, 119, 212, 213,

214, 215, 216, 219, 224, 297
Henry, Sir Thomas, 43
Heraud, 37

Herbert, Miss, 31, 32, 38
Hichens, R,, 262
Hicks, Seymour, 294
His Majesty's Theatre, 163
Hobbes, John Oliver, 237
Hollingshead, John, 37, 131
' Home for the Holidays,' 84
Honey as the Bagman, 44 ; in ' The

Two Roses,' 136
' Honeymoon, The,' 6
" Hoo-Zure-Attar," 9
Hoskins, 7, 8
Houghton's, Lord, opinion of

Booth's Othello, 129-130 ;

speech at Lyceum supper, 108-

IIO

' House of Darnley,' 86

" House of Mohere," 243, 244

Howard's, Mr., theatre, 138

Howe, 243

Howe, Henry, 35, 63, 133, 134,

253
Hudson in 'Claudian,' 231
Hughes, Annie, 238
Hugo, Victor, 184, 240
' Hunchback, The,' 131
" Hunted Down," 31, 32, 34, 35,

36,37
Hurst, 88

Hutton, Captain, 196

lachimo, 255

lago, 126, 127

Ibsen, 243

Illustrated London News, 37

Imogen, 255

" Into Thy hands, O Lord," 278,
280

' lolanthe,' iii

' Ion,' 4

' Iron Chest, The,' by Colman,
100

Irving, Sir Henry, Alexander and,
135 ; American tours, 155, 187 ;
anecdotes of, 198 ; attacks on,
68-71 ; ' Becket,' produces, 224-
232 ; ' Bells,' in the, 50-53 ;
benefits, 131, 197 ; birth and
family, 1-2 ; Boucicault, with
Dion, 31-32 ; business life, in,
4 ; character, 285-288 ; ' Charles
I.,' in, 53-57 ; connection with
Batemans closed, 79 ; ' Corsican
Brothers,' in the, 113-118;
Crosby Hall, at, 20-22 ; ' Cup,'
in the, 120-122; 'Cymbeline,'
produces, 255 ; ' Dead Heart,'

INDEX

313

in the, 207-209; death, 280;
dramatic heirlooms, receives,
72 ; Dublin, at, 16-17 j early
taste for the stage, 6-8 ; Edin-
burgh, at, 12-19 ' elocution les-
sons, 5 ; ' Eugene Aram,' in, 58 ;
'Faust,' in, 172-177; first ap-
pearance, 9-1 1 ; French appre-
ciation of, 178-186, 281-284 ;
funeral, 280-281 ; Gaiety, at the,
41 ; Glasgow, at, 22 ; ' Hamlet,'
in, 60-62, 93-96 ; Haymarket, at
the, 40 ; health, 244-246 ; ' Henry
VIII.,' in, 213-219 ; honours from
the Universities, 69 ; ' Hunch-
back,' in the, 132 ; ' lolanthe,' in,
111-112; 'Iron Chest,' in the,
loo-ioi ; Journalists' Club, at the,
157-160 ; ' King Arthur,' in, 233-
236 ; ' King Lear,' in, 220-223 ;
' King Rene's Daughter,' in, no ;
knighthood, 240-244 ; last days,
272-280; 'Louis XI.,' in, 73;
Lyceum, and the, 47-50, 87-93,
I 19-120, 123, 137, 270-271 ;
' Macbeth,' in, 66, 67, 201-205 >
' Madame Sans Gene,' in, 256 ;
manager, as, 80 ; Manchester, at,
22-30 ; Marlowe Festival, at the,
193 ; marriage, 40 ; ' Merchant
of Venice,' in, 102-105 ; ' Much
Ado About Nothing,' in, 147-
150 ; ' Medicine Man,' in the,
262; 'Olivia,' in, 164-168;
'Othello,' in, 64, 126-130; per-
sonality, 288-292 ; portraits, 153 ;
Princess's, at the, 19 ; profession,
247-254 ; ' Queen Mary,' in, 67 ;
Queen's Theatre, at the, 39 ;
' Ravenswood,' in, 211 -212;
readings, 206 ; relics, 200 ; re-
vivals, 237; 'Richard III.,' in,
72 ; ' Richelieu,' in, 59 ; ' Robert
Macaire,' in, 190 ; ' Robespierre,'
in, 266-269 ; ' Romeo and Juliet,'

in, 140-146 ; St. James's Hall, at,
154 ; St. James's Theatre, at the,
33-38 ; school-days, 3 ; Shakes-
pearian revivals, 298 ; ' Story of
Waterloo,' in, 238-240 ; Surrey
Theatre, at the, 19 ; Tennyson,
and, 224 ; Terry, joined by Ellen,
83 ; tour, on, 138-139 ; troubles,
257-264, 273 ; ' Twelfth Night,'
in, 161-163 ; 'Two Roses,' in the,
42-45, 134, 137; Universities,
and the, 151, 168-171 ; ' Vander-
decken,' in, 76 ; Walrus, on the,
99-100 ; ' Werner,' in, 189

Irving, H. B., 40, 63

Irving, Laurence, 40, 319,243, 256,
261, 265

Islington Theatre, 80

' It's Never Too Late to Mend,' 86

' Ivy Hall,' 19

Jack Wyatt in ' The Two Roses,'

42, 135
Jacobi, of the Alhambra, 91, 209
Jacques, The Melancholy, 144
Jacques Strop in ' Robert Macaire,'

297
James, David, 42, 44 ; in ' The

Two Roses,' 135, 136
' Jane Shore,' by Wills, 167
' Jealous Wife, The,' 2H
Jefferson, 31
' Jeremy Diddler,' 49, 58
Jingle in ' Pickwick,' 49, 191
Job Trotter, 191
Johnson, Dr., 49, 96, 203, 258
Johnson, Sam, 9, 87, 92
Jones, Henry Arthur, 260
Jones, John R., 158
Jones, Miss, 158
Joseph, 292

Joseph Surface, 197, 298
Journalists' Club, 157

314

INDEX

'Journeys End in Lovers' Meet-
ing,' 237
'Juif Polonais, Le,' 50, 182
Juliet, 141
' Julius Caesar,' 195, 298

Kalb, Mary, 244

Katharine in ' Taming of the

Shrew,' 85
Kean, Charles, 27, 63, 72, 73, 84,

85. 113; 134' 188, 200, 203, 29s,

298, 300
Kean, Edmund, 66, 157, 200
Kean, Mrs. Charles, 202, 295, 300
Keeley, Louisa, 15
Keeley, Mrs., 203
Kemble, 27, 63, 66, 203, 204, 247
Kembles, The, 37, 109
Kent, 223

" Kerneuzers, The," 196
' King Arthur,' 234, 236, 237
King's Bench Prison, 240
'King John,' 85
' King Lear,' 119, 134, 220-223
King Philip IL in 'Queen Mary,'

120, 223, 292
'King Rene's Daughter,' no
Knight, Joseph, 37, 257
Knowles, Mr., 31, 121
Knowles, Sheridan, 131

Labouchere, Henry, 39, 142, 242,

286, 287
Lacy, Walter, 33, 34
Lady Macbeth, 66, 201, 203, 204
* Lady of Lyons,' 18, 20, 21, 58,

86,97, 113
Lamb, Charles, 161, 163, 221, 223
' Lancashire Lass,' 37
Lancelot, 234
Laurie, Sir Peter, 68

' Leah,' 46, 66

Lee, Richard, 37

Leeford in ' Oliver Twist,' 15

Lemaitre, 190, 191, 301

Leslie, Mr., 230

Le Thiere, 211

Lewes, George Henry, 36

Lewis, Leopold, 50, 51

" Life of Dickens," 209, 293

Ligier, 185

Lilian Vavaseur in ' New Men and

Old Acres,' 86
Liszt, Abbe, 176, 177
Litolf, 209
' Little Bo-Peep,' 14
' Little Dorrit,' 44
' Little Toddlekins,' 6
' Little Treasure,' 85
' Loan of a Lover, The, 15
Loftus, Miss Cissie, 265
Long's, Edwin, portraits of Irving,

153, 291
Lord Chamberlain, 137
Lottie in ' The Two Roses,' 135
Lougherberg, De, 235
Louis in ' The Corsican Brothers,'

115
' Louis XL,' 73, 156, 157, 171, 184,

185, 237, 257, 258, 304

' Louis XHL,' 9, 184

Loveday, Miss Ely, 9

Loveday, H. J., 9, 87, 88

Lucas, Seymour J., 189, 235

Lyceum, The, 9, 12, 46-48, 50, 51,
55, 62, 71, 79, 80, 81, 88, 90, 91,
92, 93> 95> 118, 119, 125, 126,
137, 138, 140, 148, 152, 154, 164,
165, 173, 177-179, 185, 187, 188,
190, 192, 194, 195, 201, 203, 207,
213, 216, 219, 221, 228, 239, 240,
252, 253, 261, 265, 266, 270, 274,
278, 286, 287, 295, 297

Lyceum, The Sunderland, 8, 9,
12

Lyons, The Brothers, 80

INDEX

315

' Lyons Mail, The,' or, ' The Cou-
rier of Lyons,' 72, 237, 258, 265,
286

Lyons & Co., W. P., 4

Lytton, Earl of, 99

Lytton, Sir E. L. Bulwer, 9, 53, 57,
58,99

Mabel Vane in ' Masks and Faces,'

85,86
'Macbeth,' 59, 65, 79, 119, 201, 203,

204, 205, 206, 216, 217, 219, 237, 294
Maccabe, Frederic, 29
Mackay, Mrs., 181
Mackenzie, Sir A., 91
Mackintosh as Caleb Balderstone,

211
Macklin, 92

Macmillan's Magazine, 145
Macready, 66, 72, 188, 204, 249,

295, 300
' Madame Sans Gene,' by Sardou,

255, 258, 265
' Mdlle. de Bellisle,' 240
Magnus, Peter, 302
Mahomet, 210
' Maid and the Magpie,' by Byron,

25
Malvolio, 161-163, 239

Mamilius in ' The Winter's Tale,'

86
Manchester, Theatre Royal, 22
Manning, Cardinal, 216, 291, 294
' Man o'Airhe, The,' 53
March, by Liszt, 177
Marguerite, 174
Marlowe, 193
Marquis de Cevennes in ' Plot and

Passion,' 15
Marshall, Frank, 95, 188, 210
Marston, Dr. Westland, 188
' Masks and Faces,' 85, 86
Mathews, Charles, 13, 22
Mathews, the Frank, 34

Mathews, Helen, in 'The Two

Roses,' 136
Mathias in 'The Bells,' 182, 186, 292
Matthison, Arthur, 115
Maude, Cyril, 296
Maude, Mrs. Cyril, 92
Maugiron in 'Corsican Brothers,'

118
Mayer, Mr., 181
Mead as the Ghost in ' Hamlet,'

62 87
Medici, Lorenzo de, 103
'Medicine Man, The,' by Traill

and Hichens, 262
' Meg Merrilies,' 67
Meiningen, Duke of, 194; per-
formers, 290
Meissonier, 165
Melpomene, 259
Mephistopheles, 25, 127, 129, 171,

172, 173, 174, 175, 257, 260
Mercutio, 144
Merchant of Venice,' 86, 91, 96,

100, 102, III, 119, 171, 228, 237,

253, 258, 265, 271
Merivale, Herman, 209
Merlin, 236
Middleton's Witch, 79
' Middy Ashore,' 14
' Midsummer Night's Dream,' 85,

299
Millais, 291
Millward, Miss, 149
' Mr. Popple,' 249
Mobbs, Frederick C. P., 279
Modus in 'The Hunchback,' 131,

132
' Money,' 19, 58, 86
Montague, Harry, 42, 45, 135
Moore, George, 237
Moses in 'The Vicar of Wakefield,'

166
Mounet, Paul, 244
' Mourir pour la patrie,' by Varney,

119

316

INDEX

'Much Ado About Nothing,' 85,

156, 299
Murray, 12

' Nance Oldfield,' 237

Nancy, 211

Napoleon in ' Madame Sans Gene,'

256
National Review, 216
Neilson, Miss, 197
Netie Freie Pnsse, 241
' New Men and Old Acres,' 86
Newton, Miss, 44
' Nicholas Nickleby,' 15, 38, 69
' Not Guilty,' by Watts Phillips, 39
'Notre Dame,' by Victor Hugo,

240

Oakley, Mr. and Mrs,, in ' The
Jealous Wife,' 211

O'Callaghan, Florence (Lady Ir-
ving), 40

O'Callaghan, Surgeon - General
Daniel James, 40

O'Hoolagan in 'Rapid Thaw,' 38

'Old Times,' 180

Olivia in the ' Vicar of Wakefield,'
55, 86, 92, 164, 167

' Oliver Twist,' 15

' Only Way, The,' by Wills, 265

Ophelia, 300, 301

'Othello,' 64, 70, 119, 126, 128, 132,

133

' Ours,' 86

Owen, 10

Oxenford, John, 35, 37

Palais Royal, 120
Paris, Theatre des Italiens, 39
Pauline in 'The Lady of Lyons,'
86, 97, 98

Pauncefort, Mrs,, 62, 92
Penberthy, Mr. and Mrs., i, 2
Peter Teazle, Sir, 87

' Peter the Great,' 261

' Petite Fadette,' by George Sand,
48

' Phedre,' 61

Phelps, Mr,, 5, 6, 7, 62, 197, 295

'Phihp,' by Hamilton Aide, 59, 67

Philippa Chester in ' The Wander-
ing Heir,' 85

Phillips, Miss Kate, 92

Phillips, Watts, 39, 207

' Pickwick,' 49, 191, 251

Pierson, Blanche, 244

Pigott, Mr,, 63

Pinches, Dr,, 3

Pinches, Mr,, 154

Pinero, A, W,, 87, 191, 237, 243,
260

Planche burlesque, 138

Players, The, 20

' Playing with Fire,' 25

Pollock, Campbell, 290

Pollock, Sir Frederick, 180, 290

Pollock, Walter, 72, 180, 183, 196,
207, 216

Portia, 86, 103, 106, 107

Posthumus in ' Twelfth Night,' 255

Prince of Wales, The, 153, 173,
181, 196, 228, 293

Prince of Wales's Theatre, 78, 85,
86

Princess's Theatre, 19, 85, 113, 119,

125
Pritchard, Mrs,, 203
Prospero, 299
Prout, 90
Puck, 84, 85

Quaritch, Mr., 104
Queen Katharine, 204, 214, 218
'Queen Mary,' by Tennyson, 67,
79, 120, 223

INDEX

317

Queen's Theatre, Long Acre, 39,

85
Queen Victoria, 123, 228, 229, 241,
242

' Race for a Dinner/ 49
Raffaelle's Loggia at the Vatican,

173
' Rapid Thaw,' 38

' Ravenswood,' by Herman Meri-

vale, 209, 211, 212

Rawdon Scudamore in ' Hunted

Down,'

J-' jj

" Real Macbeth, The," 202

Record, 247, 248

Redburn in the ' Lancashire Lass,'

39
Rees, Miss, 151
Reeve, W., 31

Reform Club, 293

Regnier, 136

' Regular Fix, A," 57

Reichemberg, S., 244

Rejane, Madame, 255, 256

' Rheingold,' 234

'Richard IL,' 299

'Richard IH.,' 51, 71, 72, 79, 153,

170, 171, 257, 299
' RicheHeu,' 9, 46, 58, 59, 183, 184,

225
Rienzi, 210
' Road to Ruin,' 38
' Robert Macaire,' 38, 188, 189, 190,

192, 297
Robertson, 38
Robertson, Forbes, 63,92, loi, 149,

234. 243
' Robespierre,' 265, 266, 269
Robins, Joe, 26, 27, 28
Robson, 13, 191
Rock, 247, 248
Rodin in ' The Wandering Jew,'

240
' Roman Gladiator, The,' 134

'Romeo and Juliet,' 119, 137, 140,

142, 145, 146, 148
Rorke, Mary, 192
Rosamund, Fair, 224
' Rosamunde,' 141
Rosebery, Lord, 242
Rose de Beaurepaire in ' The

Double Marriage,' 85
Rosellen's "Reverie," 119
Royal College of Music, 190
' Royal Divorce, The,' 167
Royal Family, 173
Royal Institution, 170
Royalty Theatre, 85
Russell, Edward, 4
Russell, Mr., 145
Ryder, "Jack," 66, 107

Sadler's Wells Theatre, 5, 7

St. James's Hall, 153, 206

St. James's Theatre, 32, 33, 135,

189
Saker, Edward, 19
Salvini as Othello, 70
Sande's Theatre, 170
Sandringham, 228
Sarcey, 179
Sardou, 250, 265, 268
Sargent, Mr., 201, 293
Sartoris, Mrs., 37
" Savages, The," 42
'School for Scandal,' 38, 39, 197,

249, 298
Scott, Clement, 115, 135
Scott, Sir Walter, 85, 184, 263, 272
Schubert's ' Rosamunde,' 141
Scruncher in ' Little Bo-Peep,' 14
Seymour, 49

Shaw, G. Bernard, 241, 242
Shepherd, Mr., 19, 280
' She Stoops to Conquer,' 34
Shylock, 79, 103, 107, 108, 109, 253,

274. 304

318

INDEX

Siddons Mrs., 20, 202, 218, 245

Silvain, 244

Simpson, Palgrave, 195

Siward in ' Macbeth,' 19

Soho Theatre, 6

Sothern, 22, 29, 39

Spectator, 281

Sphere, 273

' Spring Chicken, The,' 249

' Spy, The,' 25

Stanfield, 235

Stanford, Sir Charles, 91

Stanford, Professor, 227

Stanley, Dean, 281

Steele, Sir Richard, 240

' Stefano della Bella,' 189

' Still Waters Run Deep,' 85

Stirling, Arthur, 92

Stirling, Mrs., 13, 91, 144, 175

Stoker, Bram, 87, 88, 138, 154, 157,
213, 270, 287

Stopel, 113, 119

" Story of Swordsmanship," 196

'Story of Waterloo,' by Conan
Doyle, 237

Strand Theatre, 42

'Stranger, The,' 189, 203, 210

Students' Union Dramatic Society,
16

"Study of Hamlet," by F. Mar-
shall, 95

Sue's ' Wandering Jew,' 240

Sullivan, Sir Arthur, 91, 234

Sully, Mounet, 180, 244, 282, 290

Surrey Theatre, 19

Susan Merton in ' It's Never Too
Late to Mend,' 86

Swinburne, 62, 87, 188

Tait, Lawson, 219
" Tale of Two Cities," 209, 265
' Taming of the Shrew,' 85, 211
Taylor, Tom, 32, 33, 102

' Tempest, The,' 299

Tenniel, Sir John, 235

Tennyson, Lord, 119, 120, 121, 122,
188, 223, 224, 229, 233, 258

Terriss, William, 92, 115, 163, 243 ;
as Mercutio, 144 ; as the Squire
in the 'Vicar of Wakefield,' 168 ;
in ' Becket,' 225 ; in ' Robert
Macaire,' 190

Terry, Edward, 163, 243, 296

Terry, Ellen, 39, 77, 92, 237, 292,
295 ; American tour, 155-156 ;
as Beatrice, 150 ; as Camma in
'The Cup,' 122 ; as Desdemona,
127-129 ; as Guinevere, 234 ; as
Imogen, 255 ; as lolanthe, 11 1 ;
as Juliet, 145 : as Lady Macbeth,
201 ; as Madame Sans Gene,
256 ; as Marguerite, 174-176 ; as
Olivia, 164, 167, 168 ; as Pauline
in ' The Lady of Lyons,' 98, 99 ;
as Queen Katharine, 218 ; as
Viola, 161, 163 ; debut at the
Lyceum, 94 ; early record, 85,
86 ; in 'Amber Heart,' 188, 192 ;
in ' Becket,' 225, 227, 228 ; in
' Robert Macaire,' 190; in ' Robes-
pierre,' 266 ; in ' The Hunch-
back,' 132 ; joins Irving, 83, 84 ;
Reade's appreciation, 204, 205 ;
Reading, a, 207, 211 ; separation
from Irving, 258, 259

Terry, Kate, 32, 84

Terry, Minnie, 85

Thacker, Messrs., 4, 5

Theatre, The, 85

Theatre Historique, 1 19

Theodore of Corsica, 240

" Thirty Years of a Gambler's
Life," 113

Thomas, Henry, 5

Thomas, Moy, 37

Thorne, 42, 44, 134

' Three Weeks After Marriage,' 211

Times, The, 10, 304

INDEX

319

Titian, 103

Tobias, Joseph F., 157

Tobin, 6

' Toby, Sir,' 162

Tomlins, 37

' Tommy's First Love,' 159

Tonnish in ' Middy Ashore,' 14

Tony Lumpkin, 162

Toole, 13, 15, 18, 22, 29, 39, 41, 69,

190, 198, 209, 243, 297
Traill, H. D., 2C2

Tree, Beerbohm, 164, 243, 296, 300
Trinity College, Dublin, 69, 170
' Troilus and Cressida,' 232
' Turn of the Tide,' 50
'Twelfth Night,' 119, 161, 255, 299
'Two Orphans,' 113
'Two Roses,' by Albery, 43, 50,

134. 303
Tyars, 92, 174

' Uncle, The,' 3

' Uncle Dick's Darling,' 41

Valentine in ' Faust,' 175

Vandenhoff, 13

' Vanderdecken,' 55, 75, 76, 231

Vandyke, 56

Varney, 119

Vaudeville Theatre, 50

Vaughan, Cardinal, 294

'Venice Preserved,' 211, 240

Veronese, Paolo, 103

Verrio, 103

Vestris, Madame, 93, 138, 173

Vezin, Herman, 53, 165

'Vicar of Wakefield,' 55, 86, 225,

295. 304
'Victoire,' 113
Villiers, Charles, 203
Viola, i6i

Virginia, 72

' Virginius,' 20, 72

Wagner, 75
Walrus, The, 99
' Wandering Boys,' 14
' Wandering Heir, The,' 85
' Wandering Jew, The,' 240
Ward, Miss Genevieve, 92
Warding, Horace, 157
Warner, Charles, 80
Waterloo Chamber, 228
Webb, The Brothers, 16
Webster, " Ben," 13, 47, 197. 207
Wenman, 92

'Werner,' by Byron, 188, 189
Westminster Abbey, 271, 280, 281
Westpoint, 171

Whistler's Portrait of Irving as
Philip IL, 67, 153, 223, 291, 292
'Wife's Secret,' by Marston, 188
Wigan, Alfred, 115
Wilford in 'The Iron Chest,' loi

Wills, 53, 54. 55. 57. 75- 76, HQ,
191, 209, 210, 239, 265, 303 ;
' Don Quixote,' 238 ; ' Faust,'
172 ; ' lolanthe,' m ; 'Jane
Shore,' 167; 'Olivia,' 164, 166;
' Royal Divorce,' 167 ; ' Vicar of
Wakefield,' 86

'Winter's Tale, A,' 10, 11, 86, 211

Wolsey, 214-217, 225

Woolgar, Miss, 133

Worms, B. Baretta, 244

Worms, G., 244

Wright, 13

Wyndham, Sir Charles, 243, 296

Wyndham, Robert, 12, 15

Wyndham, Mrs. R., 12, 15

Wynne-Mathieson, Miss E., 265

' Young Couple,' 46

UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED,
WOKING AND LONDON.

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES

THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

This book is DUE on the last date stamped below

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