In June, 1876, a performance was arranged at the Haymarket for a benefit, when the ever-blooming ‘School for Scandal’ was performed by Phelps, Miss Neilson, “Ben” Webster, Irving, Bancroft, and others. Irving was the Joseph Surface, a performance which excited much anticipation and curiosity. Some time after he performed the same character at Drury Lane. It might naturally have been thought that the part would have exactly suited him, but whether from novelty or restlessness, there was a rather artificial tone about the performance. But what actor can be expected to play every character, and to find every character suited to him? Joseph we hold to be one of the most difficult in the whole répertoire to interpret. At the Belford benefit—and Belford and his services to the stage, such as they were, are long since forgotten—the all but enormous sum of £1,000 was received! For schools, charities, convents even, and philanthropic work of all kinds, some contribution from Henry Irving in the shape of a recitation or scene may be looked for.
Irving s vein of pleasantry is ever welcome as it is unpretentious. I have heard him at the General Theatrical Fund dinner give the toast of “The Army, Navy, and Reserve Forces,” when he said, “There is an Artists’ Corps—I am curious to know why there should not be an Actors’ Corps. We are accustomed to handle weapons.” On this occasion “friend Toole” had to leave on duty; “whose fine Roman visage,” said his friend, “has beamed on us during dinner—he has been obliged to go away, fortified, I hope, for his arduous labours, but he will return—I know him well—and he will too, I am sure, with a most excellent donation.” He can tell a story or relish a humorous situation with equal effect. In company with Toole, he has often contrived a droll situation or comic adventure.[45]
At one period, when he was oppressed with hard work, it was suggested to him that sleeping in the country would be a great restorative after his labours. He much fancied an old house and grounds at Hammersmith, known as “The Grange”; and having purchased it, he laid out a good deal of money in improving and restoring it It had nice old gardens, with summer-house, a good staircase, and some old panelled rooms.
To a man with such social tastes, the journey down and the night spent there must have been banishment, or perhaps was found too troublesome. Literary men, artists, and the like do not much relish these tranquil pleasures, though practical men of business do. I am certain most will agree that they leave Fleet Street and the Strand with reluctance and return to it with pleasure. After a few years he was anxious to be rid of what was only a useless toy, and it was offered for sale for, I think, £4,000.[46]
CHAPTER XIV.
1888.
‘MACBETH’—‘THE DEAD HEART’—‘RAVENSWOOD.’
The approach of the opening night of ‘Macbeth’ caused more excitement than perhaps any of the Lyceum productions. There was a sort of fever of expectancy; it was known that everything in the way of novelty—striking and sumptuous dress and scenery, elaborate thought and study, and money had been expended in almost reckless fashion. There were legends afloat as to Miss Terry’s marvellous “beetle-green” dress, and the copper-coloured tresses which were to hang down on her shoulders.[47] The scenery was to be vast, solid, and monumental. It was no surprise when it was learned that before the day of performance some £2,000 had been paid for seats at the box-office.
While allowing due praise to the accomplishments and sagacity of our dramatic critics, I confess to looking with some distrust and alarm at a sort of “new criticism” which, like the so-called “new humour,” has developed in these latter days. This amounts to the assumption of an aggressive personality—there is a constant manifestation, not of the play or performers criticised, but of the writer’s own thoughts and opinions. It seems to be the fashion for a critic to devote his article to Mr. ——, an opposing critic, as though the public attached any importance to the opinions these gentlemen held of each other. The vanity thus unconsciously displayed is often ludicrous enough. The instances, however, are fortunately rare.
Produced on December 29, the play caused considerable excitement among Shakespearian students and “constant readers”; and Miss Terry’s reading—or rather the appearance of Miss Terry in the part—produced much vehement controversy. We had “The Real Macbeth” in the Daily Telegraph, with the usual “old playgoers” who had seen Mrs. Charles Kean. I fancy there were but three or four persons who were able to compare the performance of Miss Terry with that of Mrs. Siddons—about sixty years before.[48]
Banquo’s ghost has always been a difficulty in every presentation of the play; all the modern apparitions and phantasmagorian effects neutralize or destroy themselves. The powerful light behind exhibits the figure through the gauzes, but to procure this effect the lights in front must be lowered or darkened. This gives notice in clumsy fashion of what is coming, and prepares us for the ghost.
“New and original” readings rarely seem acceptable, and, indeed, are scarcely ever welcomed by the public, who have their old favourite lines to which they are well accustomed. We never hear one of these novelties without an effect being left as of something “purely fantastical,” as Elia has it, and invariably they seem unacceptable and forced, producing surprise rather than pleasure. Irving rarely introduces these changes. A curious one in ‘Macbeth’ was the alteration of a line—