[8] 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.
[9] Originally the piece opened with the second act, and the manager was said to have exclaimed: “Oh, bother politics! give us some 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 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.
[10] 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.
[11] “Lyceum.—Charles I., Mr. 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.—Mr. George Belmore, in his vigorous and masterly assumption of Oliver Cromwell.” Thus the modern Elliston.
[12] I have seen in an old criticism a notice of a leading performer who in similar fashion “condescended”—so it was phrased—to the part of the Ghost, and whose impersonation was declared to be “more than usually gentlemanlike and reputable.”
[13] Old Cibber thus grumbled at Garrick’s rise, and other quidnuncs at Kemble’s; and when Edward Kean came, there was the old prompter, who, when asked his opinion if he were not equal to Kemble, said: “Very clever young man indeed, very clever; but Lord bless you, sir, Mr. Kemble was a different thing altogether.”
[14] I have a vast collection of these things, filling some fourteen great folio volumes—an extraordinary tribute to the actor’s success.
[15] At the close of the performance, Mr. Chippendale presented to him the sword used by Kean when playing Richard. Later a friend gave him “the George,” which the great actor also wore in the part. Lady Burdett-Coutts, always one of his great admirers, added Garrick’s ring, “in recognition of the gratification derived from his Shakespeare representations, uniting to many characteristics of his great predecessors in histrionic art (whom he is too young to remember) the charm of original thought.” I may add that I was the medium of conveying to Irving Macready’s dress as Virginius, at the request of Mrs. John Forster, to whose husband it had been given by the great tragedian, with the accompanying “tinfoil dagger” with which he used to immolate Virginia.
[16] 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.”
[17] Her valedictory address ran: “Mrs. Bateman begs to announce that her tenancy of the Lyceum Theatre terminates with the present month. For seven years it has been associated with the name she bears. During the three years and a half that the business management has been under her special control, the liberal patronage of the public has enabled her to wind up the affairs of each successive season with a profit. During this period ‘Macbeth’ was produced for the first time in London without interpolation from Middleton’s ‘Witch.’ Tennyson’s first play, ‘Queen Mary,’ was given; and Shakespeare’s ‘King Richard III.,’ for the first time in London from the original text. Mrs. Bateman’s lease has been transferred to Mr. Henry Irving, to whose attraction as an artist the prosperity of the theatre is entirely attributable, and she confidently hopes that under his care it may attain higher artistic distinction and complete prosperity. In conclusion, Mrs. Bateman ventures to express her gratitude for the kindness and generosity extended to her by the public—kindness that has overlooked many shortcomings, and generosity that has enabled her to faithfully carry out all her obligations to the close of her tenancy.—Lyceum, August 31, 1878.”