N.B.—This entertainment was produced at the Royal Colosseum, and represented by the Misses Kate and Ellen Terry thirty consecutive nights to upwards of 30,000 persons—
and so on.
In ‘Home for the Holidays,’ the burden seems to have been cast on Ellen Terry, who performed ‘Hector Melrose, a slight specimen of the rising generation.’
In her rather fitful course, Ellen Terry[20] had gone on the stage, left it, and had gone on it again. Her performance at the Prince of Wales’s Theatre, the little home of comedy, in the piece of ‘Masks and Faces,’ had left a deep impression, and I well recall the sort of passionate intensity she put into the part. It must be said that there was some uncertainty as to how she was likely to acquit herself in the very important round of characters now destined for her; but her friends and admirers were confident that her natural dramatic instincts and quick ability, together with the inspiration furnished by so powerful a coadjutor, would supply all deficiencies. And these previsions were to be amply justified. But it was the sympathetic, passionate, and touching performance of Olivia in Mr. Wills’s version of ‘The Vicar of Wakefield’ that had lately drawn all eyes to her. It was felt that here was an actress possessing “distinction” and original power. A series of these performances at the Court Theatre, under Mr. Hare’s management, had added to her reputation.
For the opening of his theatre, the new manager did not much care to engage actors of mark, relying on a few sound but unpretentious performers, such as the late Mead, Swinburne, and others.[21] On his visits to Dublin, the new manager had met a clever, ardent young man, who had taken share in the flattering honours offered by Trinity College. This was the now well-known Bram Stoker, whose geniality, good-nature, and tact were to be of much service to the enterprise. A short time before he was in one of the public offices in Dublin; he was now offered the post of director of the theatre, or “business-manager,” as it is technically called. Mr. H. Loveday had been stage-manager under the Bateman dynasty, and was continued in his office. This gentleman is really hors ligne in this walk, being quick of resource, firm, even despotic where need requires it, and eke genial and forbearing too. The wonderful and ambitious development at the Lyceum has drawn on all his resources, equipping him with an experience which few stage-managers have opportunities of acquiring. When, as during the performance of ‘Henry VIII.,’ a crowd of over five hundred persons passes through the stage-door of the Lyceum, a stage-manager must needs have gifts of control of a high order to maintain discipline and direct his forces. And who does not know the sagacious and ever-obliging Hurst, who has controlled the box-office for many a year!
This proper selection of officials is all-important in an enterprise of this kind. Where they are well chosen, they help to bind the public to the house. It is well known that our manager is well skilled in reading the book of human character, and has rarely made a mistake in choosing his followers. On their side, they have always shown much devotion to the interests of their chief.
Not the least important of these assistants is an accomplished artist, Mr. Hawes Craven, the painter of the scenery, the deviser of the many elaborate settings and tableaux which have for so long helped to enrich the Lyceum plays. The modern methods of scenery now require an almost architectural knowledge and skill, from the “built-up” structures which are found necessary, the gigantic portals and porticoes of cathedrals, houses, squares, and statues. Monumental constructions of all kinds are contrived, the details, carvings, etc., being modelled or wrought in papier-mâché material. It may be doubted whether this system really helps stage illusion as it affects to do, or whether more sincere dramatic effects would not be gained by simpler and less laboured methods. To Mr. Craven, too, we owe the development of what is the “medium” principle—the introduction of atmosphere, of phantasmagoric lights of different tones, which are more satisfactory than the same tones when produced by ordinary colours. The variety of the effects thus produced has been extraordinary. As might be expected, the artistic instincts of the manager have here come in aid of the painter, who with much readiness and versatility has been ready to seize on the idea and give it practical shape by his craft.[22]
Mr. Craven, years ago, practised his art on the boards of the old Dublin Theatre Royal, under Mr. Harris, where his scenery attracted attention for its brilliancy and originality. His scenes had the breadth and effect of rich water-colour drawings, somewhat of the Prout school. Scenic effect is now seriously interfered with by the abundant effulgence of light in which the stage is bathed, and in which the delicate middle tints are quite submerged. The contrast, too, with moulded work is damaging, and causes the painted details to have a “poorish,” flat air. Another point to which much prominence had been given from the first at the Lyceum is the music. A fine and full orchestra—on an operatic scale almost—with excellent conductors, who were often composers of reputation, was provided. This rich and melodious entertainment sets off the play and adds to its dignity, and may be contrasted with the meagre music ordinarily provided in theatres.
Once, travelling in the North, the manager met at a hotel a young musician who, like himself, “was on tour,” with some concert party it might be, and fell into conversation with him on their respective professions. This young man chatted freely, and imparted his ideas on music in general, and on theatre music in particular. The manager was pleased with the freshness and practical character of these views, and both went their way. Long after, when thinking of a successor to Stöpel—the old-established Lyceum conductor—he recalled this agreeable companion, who was Mr. Hamilton Clarke, and engaged him, at the handsome salary of some six hundred a year, to direct the music. He was, moreover, a composer of great distinction. His fine, picturesque overtures and incidental music to ‘The Merchant of Venice,’ and other Lyceum pieces, still linger in the memory. It is to be lamented that this connection was severed. The manager has later applied for aid to such composers as Sir Arthur Sullivan, Sir A. Mackenzie, Sir Julius Benedict, Stanford, Jacobi, and Mr. German.
When he was thus busy with preparations for inaugurating his new ambitious venture, he had engagements to fulfil in the country, and could only rush up to town occasionally to push on the preparations. He tells us how, having secured a new Horatio, a “modern young actor,” as he called him, whom he had never seen perform, he came up to town especially to hear him go through his part. After reading it over for him in the way he desired it to be done, Irving said, “Now you try it; I will be the Ghost.” “So he began, and what a surprise it was! As Horatio he apostrophized me in the most cool, familiar, drawing-room, conventional style possible to imagine. I was aghast, ‘No, no,’ I cried. ‘Stop, consider the situation, its thrills of horror, the supernatural!’ ‘Oh, yes,’ he replied, ‘but how am I to do it?’ ‘Can’t you understand it?’ I said; ‘try again.’ He did still the same again and again. There was nothing to be done but engage another performer.”