This clearly shows that she was intent on giving her own original reading of Lady Macbeth.
Clement Scott has recorded a very interesting conversation that took place between them after the production. In the course of it she said:—
"Although I know I cannot do what I want to do in this part, I don't even want to be a 'fiend,' and I can't believe for a moment that Lady Macbeth did conceive that murder—that one murder. Most women break the law during their lives; few women realise the consequences of what they do to-day.... I do believe that at the end of that banquet, that poor wretched creature was brought through agony and sin to repentance, and was forgiven. Surely she called the spirits to be made bad, because she knew she was not so very bad?"
And in response to the inquiry—"But was Lady Macbeth good?" she said:—
"No, she was not good, but not so much worse than many women you know.... Was it not nice of an actress—she sent me Mrs. Siddons' shoes! not to wear, but to keep. I wish I could have stood in 'em! She played Lady Macbeth—her Lady Macbeth, not Shakespeare's; and if I could I would have done hers, for Shakespeare's Lady Macbeth was a fool to it. But, at the same time, I don't think I'd even care to try to imitate her imitators.... I wish I could have seen Helen Faucit in the part. I do believe she was the rightest, although not to be looked at by the side of the Siddons portrait as a single effective figure."
Now all this goes to prove that though Ellen Terry believed that the "Siddons" view of the character was the most effective from the theatrical point of view, she was not what Shakespeare meant, and that she had resolutely determined to give it her own reading.
On the 29th of December 1888, the tragedy was performed before a crowded, distinguished, and excited audience. What a picture Ellen Terry looked in her queenly and exquisitely-designed robes and her long plaits of squirrel-coloured hair! One could understand a man doing anything at the bidding of such a lovely, commanding, yet withal winsome creature. This made her influence over Macbeth very easy of comprehension, and, so far, a great point was gained; but I remember thinking that night that the new Lady Macbeth seemed, as the play advanced, to become an encumbrance rather than a support to her husband, and that she left him to fight his losing battle alone. She seemed to content herself with presenting an attractive, affectionate, and devoted wife, who could rule her husband at will, and encouraged him in his crimes because she thought they would advance his ambition. Despite her collusion in the series of cruel murders that were designed to clear the Thane of Cawdor's way to the throne, she was always feminine, and far sooner than he, she collapsed under the weight of their mutual guilt.
That the impersonation proved singularly attractive is beyond all doubt, and it was well summed up in the words:—
"Miss Terry's Lady Macbeth filled every one with wonder and admiration. As in the case of her Queen Katherine, it seemed a miracle of energy and dramatic inspiration triumphing over physical difficulties and habitual associations. The task was herculean, and even those who objected could not restrain their admiration."
Indeed, we were all heart and soul with Henry Irving, when, at the fall of the curtain, and in response to ringing cheers, he said:—