Ellen Terry and Her Sisters

by T. Edgar Pemberton

And so it was with all the critics. Probably there never was an occasion on which they were so unanimous. In the presence of true genius we must all agree.

How difficult it is to define the word "genius." To my mind it has never been so well done as by George William Curtis, who said—

"The secret of the rose's sweetness, of the bird's ecstasy, of the sunset's glory, that is the secret of genius."

Certainly this seems to sum up the genius of Ellen Terry.

Since that night when she first played Portia, it has never lost its hold upon the public, or its influence upon our stage. With an equally magnetic Shylock the Bancrofts' brave venture with "The Merchant of Venice" would surely have run for many months, and in view of the deep impression she has made, it must have been a great disappointment to Ellen Terry that this was not to be. She did not know then that both in England and America her Portia would prove an ever-recurring joy. It was ordained that as Ophelia she should commence her long and brilliant series of Shakespearean impersonations with Henry Irving at the Lyceum, but it was as Portia at the Bancrofts' Prince of Wales' Theatre that she first won all our hearts, from the scholarly critic of our greatest poet, to those who only regard "The Merchant of Venice" as an interesting play that they pay their money to see. Portia will, I think, ever sparkle as the brightest gem in her well bejewelled crown.

Being human, Ellen Terry must have felt somewhat chagrined that the fiasco of Charles Coghlan's Shylock should, for a time, banish her Portia, and it is characteristic of her generous nature that a few months later she should be playing, for a single performance, Pauline Deschappelles to his Claude Melnotte at the Princess's Theatre. It was one of those ephemeral stage experiments that could lead to no immediate good. It involved much study, great anxiety, and hard work. Probably in undertaking the task Ellen Terry was actuated by the unselfish desire to help to reinstate her old comrade of the Bristol days in the public estimation. I know that in the long period of her unalterably established fame she has ever been the first to help a fellow actor fallen by the way. If this was her desire she succeeded beyond her expectations. As Claude Melnotte Coghlan did much to redeem his recent unfortunate venture, and as Pauline she evoked pæans of praise. Writing of this performance Joseph Knight said that its effect was to set the seal upon a growing reputation, and to make evident the fact that an actress of a high, if not the highest, order had arisen in our midst. He felt, as every one felt, that in Ellen Terry an artist had developed in whom there was that perception of analogies, that insight into mysteries, and that power of interpretation on which the world has bestowed the name of genius. "Circumstances," he truly remarked, "took Miss Terry from the stage at a time when men dimly perceived in her the promise which has since been realised. It is probable that some delay in that maturity of style indispensable to perfection in histrionic art has resulted from this break in her career. The interval can scarcely have been misspent, however, since Miss Terry reappeared on the stage with ripened powers and with improved methods."

In saying that her presentation of Pauline "comprised a series of pictures each more graceful than the preceding," he echoed the general opinion; but I do not think that the great mass of enthusiastic playgoers could be with him when he added that they were "all too good for the lackadaisical play in which she appeared."

Poor "Lady of Lyons"! There are still a little band of your faithful admirers who hate to hear you condemned as you are to-day, as tawdry, cheap, and artificial. They look back fondly on happy and soul-stirring hours spent with you in the past; they know that you can still hold intelligent, if somewhat sentimentally inclined, audiences spellbound; and they believe that if any later-day dramatist could write a play containing as good a character for a stage heroine, he would reap a fortune. But among the superfine, my sweet "Lady of Lyons," you are condemned as "old-fashioned," and your loyal followers, if they open their lips in your praise, must be content to share the same ridicule and fate. It is very terrible to be old-fashioned; but I, for one, shall be true to you as long as I live. In the course of his criticism the writer said, "It is too early yet to gauge fully the talent which has revealed itself. It seems probable that Miss Terry's powers will be restrained to depicting the grace, tenderness, and passion of love. In the short scene in the third act, in which Pauline chides her lover for treachery, the actress scarcely rose to the requisite indignation. Limiting, however, what is to be hoped for her within the bounds indicated, what chance is there not afforded? Juliet, in the stronger scenes, would be, we should fancy, outside the physical resources of the artist. Beatrice, Rosalind, Viola, Imogen, Miranda, and a score of other characters of the most delicate and fragrant beauty, are, however, all within what appears to be her range. In the present state of public feeling respecting the Shakespearean drama, it will be strange indeed if some manager does not take the opportunity of mounting some of those plays for which her talent is so eminently adapted. The period during which an actress can play such parts with effect is brief; and a portion of Miss Terry's career has already been lost so far as the stage is concerned. There will be regrettable waste if talent, so specially suited to the Shakespearean drama, is confined to Lord Lytton's facile sentiment and sparkling rhetoric."

Do not heed these final words, dear "Lady of Lyons." Believe me, there are still many hundreds of gardeners' sons, Princes of Coma, and Colonel Moiriers, ready to be your lovers, and worship at your feet.