What the Judge Saw: Being Twenty-Five Years in Manchester by One Who Has Done It

by Sir Edward Abbott Parry

“A jolly place,” said he, “in times of old;

But something ails it now: the spot is cursed.”

Yet speaking as one whose duty it was to go to the theatre every week and write about it, I doubt if any city had better theatrical fare than Manchester in the later eighties.

For in those days, mind you, we were a humble people. Those learned young gentlemen who can see no theatrical merit in the leading London actors, and will find no virtue in a play that entertains the

general public, had not yet left those dour Nonconformist nurseries, where doubtless they were raised. It was, if not a better world, certainly a merrier world, and the poor, old-fashioned, uneducated pagans in it actually went to the playhouse after a hard day’s work in search of entertainment. What is more, they got it. And being good judges of acting, and keen about the actor’s art, there came to meet them a never-ending procession of the best actors from London, bringing down their own companies in pieces that had met with success in town.

Turning over some playbills of 1887 it is impossible not to realise that the theatre-goer of that date had the opportunity of seeing a higher and more varied standard of acting than it is possible to witness in the Manchester of to-day. In that one year we had Mr. Farren, that master of old English comedy, in his three greatest studies, Sir Peter Teazle, Sir Anthony Absolute, and Lord Ogleby. One wishes Charles Lamb could have lived to see Farren, and describe his Sir Peter. Lamb only saw King, the comic, fretful, old bachelor, but left on record his judgment that Sir Peter was to be played as a real man, a neighbour, or old friend, which judgment Farren put into execution. Then Miss Mary Anderson was on tour with the most ardent, handsome, and intelligent jeune premier of our time, Forbes-Robertson. They were playing “Pygmalion and Galatea,” “Romeo and Juliet,” and “As You Like It.” Barry Sullivan was still with us, and those who never saw him in

“Richard III.” and “The Gamester” will not be able nowadays to realise what was meant by the “high and palmy” school of acting, and what were its merits and shortcomings. Up against this interesting memory of bygone acting was young Benson, with his fresh, intelligent, new methods and clever comrades, capturing the hearts and winning the intellectual sympathy of an ever-widening circle of play-goers.

In the same year, too, Wilson Barrett brought “Claudian” and the “Silver King,” with the company and scenery that he had with him in London and America; Toole and Edward Terry paid us regular visits, and Mr. and Mrs. Kendal gave us a notable revival of “Lady Clancarty.” Sarah Bernhardt paid Manchester a flying visit with performances of “Adrienne” and “Theodora”; and last, but not least, Henry Irving and Ellen Terry rejoiced the hearts of Manchester playgoers with what we always regarded as the festival week of our theatrical calendar.

When I hear people groaning over the theatre in the provinces of twenty-five years ago, I would ask them to read that list of events and honestly say whether the programme of to-day can beat it. It may be said that there are no such stars in the firmament to-day, and, therefore, they cannot shine upon Manchester. But that is not wholly true. There are great actors to-day and great productions, but nowadays they are not brought to Manchester.

The main reason why that is so is probably a