And here it may be said that this long connection of Wills and his school with the Lyceum has tended somewhat to the sacrifice of brisk dramatic action, which is always enfeebled by an excess of poetical recitations. There are still many fine subjects and fine dramas which would kindle all the actor’s powers afresh and stir his audiences. What a fine piece, for instance, could be made of Victor Hugo’s ‘Notre Dame’! We already see our actor as the mysterious and romantic monk—one more addition to his ecclesiastical gallery. What opportunities for scenery and music! One of the most picturesque of stories is that of Theodore of Corsica, he who dreamed of being a king and actually became one, and who died in the King’s Bench Prison in the most piteous state of misery. We should like to see him, too, as Rodin, in Sue’s ‘Wandering Jew,’ and, better still, in ‘Venice Preserved,’ or in ‘Mlle. de Belleisle.’
After his twenty years’ fruitful work at the Lyceum—twenty years and more of picturesque labour during which a new interest was created in the stage—an official recognition was to be given of our actor’s high position. The year 1895 will henceforth be notable as the year of the first tardy honour ever bestowed on an English actor by the Crown. We have had titled players in abundance on the stage, but they have not owed their honours to the stage. It has been said that Sir Richard Steele and Sir Augustus Harris are the only two titled managers. When, in May, the usual list of what are called “birthday honours” came out, the public was delighted to find their favourite included, in company with a poet, a novelist, and a successful traveller. Few Government acts have given such general satisfaction. There was a general chorus of appreciation. Already a lecturer before the Universities and a doctor of letters, the leading player of his time was now officially recognised.
To no class of the community was the honour more acceptable than to his own profession. A meeting of actor-managers and others was held to take some step “in recognition,” it was said, of the distinction. Mr. Bancroft presided, and a provisional committee was formed, consisting of Mr. Toole, Mr. Pinero, Mr. Beerbohm Tree, Sir A. Harris, Mr. Hare, Mr. Wyndham, Mr. G. Alexander, Mr. Terry, Mr. Forbes Robertson, Mr. Terriss, Mr. Howe, Mr. Brough, Mr. G. Conquest, and some others. Mr. Bashford acted as secretary. Another meeting with the same end in view was called of “proprietors, authors, managers.” All this was very gratifying. Not less striking was the feeling with which the news was received abroad, and his confrères of the French comedy—the “House of Molière” as it proudly and so justly boasts itself—lost not a moment in calling a meeting and sending him a formal “act” of congratulation. This important document ran:
“Paris, May 28, 1895.
“Dear Sir Henry Irving,
“The committee of the Comédie Française and the sociétaires of the House of Molière desire to send you their cordial congratulations, and to signify the joy they feel at the high distinction of which you have lately been made the recipient. We are all delighted to see a great country pay homage to a great artist, and we applaud with all our hearts the fitting and signal recompense paid to an actor who has done such powerful service and profound honour to our calling and our art. Accept, then, dear Sir Henry Irving, the expression of the deep sympathy as artists and the sincere devotion which we feel towards you.—(Signed) Jules Claretie, administrator-general and president of committee; Mounet Sully, G. Worms, Silvain, Georges Baillet, Coquelin cadet, Proudhon, etc., of the committee; S. Reichemberg, Bartet, B. Baretta Worms, Paul Mounet, Mary Kalb, Blanche Pierson, A. Dudlay, etc., sociétaires.”
Looking back over this long period of nigh thirty years, we are astonished to find this laborious and conscientious performer never absent from his stage. Night after night, year after year, he is still found at his post, defiant of fatigue or ill-health. Only on one occasion, I think, owing to some affection of his throat, had a substitute to take his place. The pressure and constant struggle of our time, it may be, takes no account of weakness or failure; no one dares relax, and as Mrs. Siddons declared the player’s nerves must be made of cart-ropes, so must he have a constitution of iron or steel.
Notwithstanding this constant strain upon his time and labour, there is no figure more conspicuous in the whole round of social duties and entertainments. Wherever there is a gathering for the purpose of helping his profession, he is to be found presiding or assisting. He takes his share in the important movements of the day, and his utterances, always judicious, useful, and valuable, are quoted abundantly.
CHAPTER XVII.
L’ENVOI.
Irving has always shown himself eager to plead for his profession, to urge its claim as a wholesome and instructive moral influence that will implant in the community elevating instincts of even a religious kind. All our great actors have been forward in this way, notably Garrick, Kemble, and Macready. The former’s reply to the bishop as to the success and failure of their different styles of preaching is well known. In these days, when we have that singular “Church and State Guild,” with the pleadings of the Reverend Stewart Headlam, and of other clergymen, in favour of the ballet, it is curious to find how this indulgent and tolerant view is repaid by the introduction on the stage of grotesque curates, vicars, and deans, the line being drawn at bishops, who now figure in many a comic opera in absurd and even degrading situations. Our actor is very earnest, and fondly believes that the day is approaching when the stage, and its ways and works, will be recognised by the Church, and by good people generally, as healthy, useful agents in the work of reforming men and women. He is fond of repeating the Bishop’s remark to him, when he asked why, with such a taste for the theatre, he did not frequent it—“My dear Irving, I am afraid of the Rock and the Record.”