Ellen Terry and Her Sisters

by T. Edgar Pemberton

In 1879 the Terry-Kelly programme was augmented by the production of an ephemeral version by Mrs. Comyns Carr of the everlasting "Frou Frou," entitled "Butterfly." Guided as it has been, and happily still is, by that great authority on dramatic art, Sir Edward Russell, the Liverpool Daily Post has always been famous for its theatrical criticisms, and in dealing with these days it is interesting to cull the following lines from its columns:—

"We cannot find words to express the charm with which Miss Terry, than whom there is no more tender and graceful actress on the British stage, invests the character of Butterfly, but those who can appreciate versatility of acting should see her play the part, and then ask themselves the question—'Could any one do it better?' She was most ably supported by Mr. Charles Kelly and Miss Fanny Pitt, whose acting greatly contributed to the success of the piece."

Of "New Men and Old Acres" the same authority rightly said:—

"It is seldom that such a piece is rendered with such perfection as that which the leading members of the cast succeeded in achieving. There is only one word which can adequately describe Miss Terry's personation of Lilian Vavasour, and that word is perfection. Natural and graceful in expression, with an inexhaustible vivacity, she maintains an unbroken spell, which is only deepened by each fresh stroke of humour and girlish outburst of sentiment, accompanied by a bewitching artillery of attitude and expression. The acting of Mr. Charles Kelly as Mr. Brown, the quiet, self-possessed man of business, was excellent in the extreme."

Of her reading of Lady Teazle in the screen scene of "The School for Scandal," it was recorded that her tenderly, tremulous, and broken accents touchingly conveyed the womanly contrition which so pathetically points the moral of a dramatic incident in which human infirmity, passion, perfidy, generosity of sentiment, and youthful gaiety and frivolity are so wonderfully and skilfully blended. And of her Dora, it was "something more than a mere stage-picture—a living, breathing reality, a perfect embodiment of Tennyson's conception."

In the September of 1880 a very interesting event took place, and as it foreshadowed one of my heroine's greatest subsequent triumphs I shall speak of it at length—or rather, I shall take the liberty of letting that eminent critic, Mr. Davenport Adams, speak for me.

"On Friday, September 3rd, Miss Ellen Terry will play Beatrice for the first time on any stage at the Grand Theatre, Leeds."

That was his text for an article from his pen that appeared in that unhappily defunct periodical, The Theatre magazine.

"I forget," he continues, "when and where I first cast eyes on this delectable announcement. It may have been here, it may have been there. I only know that when I saw it I came to an immediate and irrevocable resolution. Miss Terry as Beatrice! Why, it was one of the dreams of my existence! I say 'one of the dreams,' because I had hoped, and still hope, to see Miss Terry not only as Beatrice, but as Viola, and Imogen, and Rosalind, and perchance as Juliet, if the gods but prove propitious. But Miss Terry as Beatrice! To me it was an 'opening paradise.' My dreams were coming true. Here was the first instalment, and who should say when the remainder might not be realised? Assuredly there might be some who would resist such an attraction as the above; but I was not among them. Friday, September 3rd, saw me duly speeding northwards as fast as the Midland Railway Company could be induced to carry me. I had never been in Leeds before, and I do not hesitate to say that, save under similar provocation, I have no anxiety to go there again. Yet what cannot the imagination do for one? For me, on this occasion, Leeds was 'apparelled in celestial light.' Boar Lane and Briggate became for the nonce the primrose path which led me to the halcyon doors of the Grand Theatre. And fine doors they are! Everything is a little new, perhaps; there is nothing of the venerable temple of the drama about this brand-new building, with its imposing frontage and evident commodiousness. Clearly, you say to yourself, this is a specimen of recent handiwork, and requires time in which to mellow; but once get through the delightfully cool passages, which lead from the vestibule to the stalls—once put your foot within the auditorium—and you are charmed with everything you see. It may be all very fresh, but it is all very magnificent and impressive. O si sic omnes! If every theatre roof were but so high—if every pit were but so spacious and well-lighted—if every circle, upper circle, and gallery were but so gracefully superimposed one above the other—and, especially, if everywhere there were such a rich profusion of decoration as one sees around one! Evidently there could be no more gorgeous frame for the picture which Miss Terry was about to paint for us.

"It was Miss Terry's benefit night, and every stall was taken. This seemed to be the case, too, with the circle, and may have been so with other portions of the house. It seemed as if the pit were crammed, and in the stalls standing room was diligently sought for. It was obvious that Leeds playgoers had understood the nature of the treat that was before them. Whether it was that Miss Terry was personally the attraction of the evening, or whether Miss Terry as Beatrice had drawn the crowd, I cannot say. Suffice it that the crowd was, and that the crowd soon showed itself to be delighted."