In 1874 she became a prominent member of Henry Neville's company at the Olympic, appearing (inter alia) in an English version of "Le Mariage de Figaro," by James Mortimer, entitled "A School for Intrigue." Henry Neville was the Almaviva, Edward Righton the Figaro, and Emily Fowler the Suzanne. Later, in a revival of "Much Ado about Nothing," she made a very winsome Hero to the Beatrice of Emily Fowler, the Benedick of Henry Neville (this was a delightful reproduction of Shakespeare's spirited picture), the Don Pedro of W. H. Vernon, the Dogberry of Edward Righton, and the Verges of G. W. Anson. Then she migrated to the Strand Theatre, to play in some of H. J. Byron's pleasant comedies, such as "Old Sailors" and "Weak Woman." Of the last-named play, Edward Leman Blanchard (never inclined to be enthusiastic) said that it was "a brightly written and most ingeniously constructed piece; excellently acted, and having a well-deserved success." As its heroine, Marion Terry became very popular, and successes were also made by Ada Swanborough, W. H. Vernon, J. G. Grahame, Harry Cox, and Edward Terry. In the hands of the last-named admirable comedian—and thanks to the excellence of his acting in the eccentric character of Captain Ginger—"Weak Woman" still holds the stage. On September 11th, 1876, came the young actress's first great chance, and right worthily she availed herself of it. On that evening W. S. Gilbert's three-act drama, "Dan'l Druce, Blacksmith," was produced at the Haymarket Theatre, and to her was allotted the one feminine, but all-important, part of Dorothy. The dramatist had avowedly taken the episode of the first act—the finding by the saturnine blacksmith of a wee but winning girl-baby in his lonely hermitage—a mere hut by the sea-shore—from George Eliot's beautiful story, "Silas Marner," but that was all the better, for it formed the prelude to a most interesting play. In it Marion Terry made an instantaneous success by the absolute simplicity of her acting. With a grip rare in so young an artiste, she had realised her author's meaning; her love-scenes (with Forbes Robertson) were finely presented, and, throughout the two acts in which she appeared, her quietly won victory was from the first apparent, and ultimately complete. With such actors as Hermann Vezin, Henry Howe, Odell, and Forbes Robertson, she easily held her own, and shared in the honours of a notable artistic success.
In the October of 1877 there was a greater and even a unique triumph. This was in W. S. Gilbert's whimsically conceived and wittily written farcical comedy "Engaged,"—in its way a gem of the first water, with its every facet cut and polished to the point of resplendency. Good as was the acting of George Honey as Cheviot Hill, Fred Dewar as Angus Macalister, Harold Kyrle (Kyrle Bellew) as Belvawney, Henry Howe as Mr. Symperson, Lucy Buckstone as Miss Symperson, Emily Thorne as Mrs. Macfarlane, and Julia Stewart as the "Lowland Lassie," Maggie Macfarlane, the Belinda Treherne of Marion Terry capped them one and all. It was, indeed, an impersonation as humorous as it was original. If it had not been interpreted as she interpreted it, the very fabric of the work might have fallen; but the extreme cleverness of her acting in a most difficult part held it up, and she became a joy to all endowed with a true sense of fun. It will be remembered that the character is that of a young lady who, apparently steeped in romantic notions, possesses a remarkably matter-of-fact mind. She manifestly believes in herself, but, under the surface of her honeyed rhodomontade, she has to let the audience see the under-current of her secret and worldly aspirations. Badly done, the character would have been impossible. Handled as it was by Marion Terry it became not only delicious in its humour, but strangely convincing. Let us listen to the ring of one or two of the sentences with which she was called upon to deal.
In the first act she meets the susceptible Cheviot Hill; he immediately falls in love with her, and in reply to his words of gushing admiration she says—
"I cannot deny that there is much truth in the sentiments you so beautifully express, but I am, unhappily, too well aware that, whatever advantages I may possess, personal beauty is not among the number."
And when he has replied—
"How exquisitely modest is this chaste insensibility to your own singular loveliness! How infinitely more winning than the bold-faced self-appreciation of underbred country girls!"
She answers—
"I am glad, sir, that you are pleased with my modesty. It has often been admired." The whole house rocked with laughter, and there, on the stage, stood the graceful, pretty, and impassive girl, who, in a very remarkable way, had given meaning to the writer's every word. Her lines were so ridiculous, yet so telling, that we all felt it a wonder that she did not laugh with us. No! Like the perfect, well-graced actress she has ever been, she lived in her part, and seemed absolutely to forget that she was playing to a crowded audience.
One more instance.
In the third act the amorous Cheviot returns from his mission to Scotland to find that during his absence his two English lady-loves, Belinda Treherne and Minnie Symperson, have (at least) been amusing themselves with the dangerous Belvawney. Prompted by absurd jealousy, the ridiculous man expostulates; he cannot bear to hear that the girls, who ought to have been pining for him, have been amused by the impostor's conjuring tricks, that they have, in short, to use his own words, been "Belvawneying." The following conversation ensues:—