CHAPTER XI.

1882.

‘MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING’—AMERICAN VISIT ARRANGED.

In his speech at the close of the season, the manager announced the new piece selected for the next season. With that judicious view to contrast or relief which directed all his efforts, he had settled on a true comedy—the effective ‘Much Ado About Nothing.’ To this piece many had long since pointed as being exactly adapted to the special gifts of the two performers. Here was the fourth Shakespearian play of an Italian complexion and atmosphere, which entailed accordingly a fresh exhibition of Italian streets, manners, and costumes. A happy impression was produced by the very note of preparation, the air was filled with the breath of the coming piece; all felt, in anticipation, the agreeable humours and fancies of Benedick and his Beatrice. This feeling of comedy, it may be said, is ever a delightful one; it spreads abroad a placid, quiet enjoyment and good-humour with which nothing else can compare.

On Wednesday, October 11, 1882, the delightful piece was brought out. From the excellent acting of the two principal performers, and the beautiful “setting” of the whole, it was destined to become one of the most popular and acceptable of the Lyceum _répertoire_. By a curious delusion, owing no doubt to the recollection of the lavish splendours of ‘Romeo and Juliet,’ some critics pronounced that it had been brought out with but a moderate display of scenic resources. The truth was that the play had been “mounted” with as much state as it would properly bear. Some scenes were equipped in an unusually lavish and superb style. The general effect, however, was harmonious; indeed, the happy tact of the manager was never displayed to such advantage as in seizing on what might be termed the proper key of the piece. When we recall, with a pleasant enjoyment, these various Lyceum spectacles, we find that there is no confusion of one with the other, that each has a special, distinct note, and thus is started a train of impressions, delightful for their variety, which enrich the chambers of the memory.

There was one scene which, for its splendour and originality, was to be talked of for many a day, viz., the beautiful interior of a church at Messina—the “Church Scene,” as it was called. The art displayed here, the combination of “built-up” scenery with “cloths,” the rich harmonious tintings, the ecclesiastical details, the metal-work, altars, etc., made an exquisite picture.[32] The well-known passage of the interrupted bridal was “laid out” with extraordinary picturesqueness, much emphasis being given to the religious rites. It was felt, however, that the genuflections before the altar were introducing rather too awful a suggestion, though the intention was, no doubt, reverent. It must be admitted by all whose memories wander back to that performance, that the vision of this “Church Scene” rises before them with an almost pathetic significance, owing in some part to the touching, sympathetic acting of Miss Millward. By this emphasizing of the state and publicity of the scene, the crowds and rich dresses and ecclesiastical robes, the “distressful” character of such a trial for a young bride was brought out in a very striking way.

All eyes, as it may be conceived, were drawn to the figures of Benedick and Beatrice, as portrayed by Irving and Ellen Terry. Their scenes were followed with a delighted interest, and their gay encounters of wit and flirtation gave unalloyed pleasure. Irving threw a Malvolian gravity over the character, alternated by a certain jocoseness.

These two characters, Benedick and Beatrice, are so much the heritage of all lovers of true comedy, that everyone seems to have fixed a standard for himself, which he will critically apply to every representation. This partiality does not make us particularly _exigeant_, but we have each our own fancies. There is nothing more interesting, entertaining, or fruitful in speculation than the discussion of how favourite characters in comedy should be represented. It is as though they were figures in real life. For myself, I confess I should have preferred that the actor had taken the character into still higher realms of airy comedy, and had less emphasized the somewhat farcical passages. Benedick was a man of capacity, a soldier, a gentleman, and though he was likely to be so imposed upon, he would not have given his friends the satisfaction of seeing him in this dejected condition, almost inviting laughter and rude “rallying.”[33]

During all this time, preparations for the great American visit were being carefully matured. There is supposed to be a sort of hostility between artistic gifts and business-like habits; but Irving has always shown great capacity where organization and arrangement are in question—he has the clearest vision, and the firmest, most decided purpose. In this he has often suggested a surprising likeness to the departed novelist Dickens, who was also remarkable for his business power and decision of character, and whose motto it was to do every trifle in the best way that it could be done. Anything worth doing at all, he would say, was worth doing well.

Nothing was left undone to ensure success. Everything was “thought out” beforehand with the greatest care and deliberation. The American manager, Abbey, who had undertaken the direction of the venture, and had a vast store of experience and skill at command, planned, of course, the arrangements of the visit; but the purely theatrical details were thrown upon the English actor, who had to equip completely some dozen plays with scenery, dresses, and properties. A following of from seventy to a hundred persons—including actors, actresses, secretaries, scenic and music artists, dressers, supernumeraries—was to be taken out.[34] Further, with a view to making the company thoroughly familiar with the _répertoire_, for months beforehand a sort of continuous rehearsal went on before the regular Lyceum audiences; that is, all the stock-pieces were revived one after the other, and performed with much care.

The honours and flattering tributes that were now lavished on the departing actor would have turned the head of one less sensible or less unspoiled. The town seemed really to have “run horn-mad” after him, and could talk of nothing but of him and his expedition. As was to be expected, the compliment of a public dinner was the smallest of these tributes. Presents and invitations were lavished upon him. In a caricature he was shown as being profusely anointed, by critics and others, from a tub filled with a composition labelled “butter.” In another the Prince of Wales is obsequiously presenting an invitation, which the actor excuses himself from accepting owing to “my many engagements.” The most famous portrait-painter of the day begged to be allowed to paint his picture, which he wished to offer as a present to the Garrick Club.[35] Rumours were busily circulated—and contradicted—that a knighthood had been offered and declined.

The public dinner at St. James’s Hall was fixed for July 4—a compliment to the American people. The list of stewards was truly extraordinary, comprising almost everyone of mark in the arts and the great professions. The Chief Justice, Lord Coleridge, who was himself setting out for a tour in the States, was to take the chair. Mr. Gladstone and some Cabinet Ministers were on the committee. There were three thousand applicants for the five hundred possible seats, all that Mr. Pinches, the secretary—a relation of the actor’s old master—could contrive to supply. Two Bishops excused their attendance in flattering terms; and Mr. Gladstone would gladly have attended, but was compelled by his duties to be absent.[36] At this banquet, besides the Chief Justice and the Lord Chancellor of Ireland, there were five other judges present, together with all that was distinguished in the professions and arts.

The Chairman, in a thoughtful and studied speech, delivered perhaps one of the best _apologias_ for the actor that is ever likely to be offered. The skill and moderation of the accomplished advocate was shown to perfection: he did not adulate, but gave the actor a graduated and judicious measure of praise for all he had done in the improvement in the general tone, morals, and methods of the stage. Irving acknowledged these compliments in grateful and heartfelt terms, addressed not so much to the diners present as to the kingdom in general.

After these metropolitan honours, he passed to Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Liverpool. At each city he was greeted with complimentary banquets. At Edinburgh he opened a new theatre, named in compliment to his own, the Lyceum. He was invited to Hawarden by Mr. Gladstone, and also to Knowsley, on a visit to Lord Derby.

On October 10, 1883, the chief members of the company—over forty in number—sailed for New York, under the conduct of Mr. Bram Stoker. Tons of scenery, dresses, properties, etc., had been already shipped. The following day Irving and Miss Terry embarked on board the White Star liner, _The Britannic_. Up to the last moment telegrams and letters containing good wishes literally by hundreds were being brought in. Even while the vessel was detained at Queenstown, the Mayor and Corporation of Cork seized the opportunity of saluting him with a parting address. The incidents have been all described by my friend Mr. Joseph Hatton, who attended the party as “historiographer”; and I may refer the reader to his interesting volumes.

The visit was to prove one long triumph, and the six months’ progress a strange, wonderful phantasmagoria of receptions, entertainments, hospitalities of all kinds. Novel and original, too, were the humours and fashions that greeted them everywhere, and the eyes of the two players must have often turned back with pleasure to that odd pantomime.

‘The Bells’ was selected for the opening performance which was on October 29, 1883. Though his reception was overpowering and tumultuous, there was some hesitation as to the success of the play itself, and the critics seemed to be a little doubtful as to whether it fairly represented the full measure of his gifts. ‘Charles I.’, however, followed, and the two great artists made the profoundest impression. But when ‘Louis XI.’ and ‘Much Ado About Nothing’ were presented, all doubts vanished. Miss Terry won all hearts; her sympathetic style and winsome ways made conquest of every audience. Nothing struck the Americans with such astonishment as the exquisite arrangement and “stage management” of the Shakespearian comedy, the reserved yet effectively harmonious treatment of all the details being a complete revelation. The actor’s consummate taste was recognised; in fact, the result of the visit was a complete revolution in all the American stage methods. The extraordinary record of lavish hospitalities, tributes of all kinds, with the adventures, is set forth fully in the story of the tour. But it is only by consulting the American journals that we can gather a notion of the odd “humours,” often grotesque, by which the American public displays its enthusiastic approbation.[37] The “interviewers,” as may be imagined, were rampant, and extracted from the genial and courteous actor opinions on everything connected with his profession. One immortal criticism deserves to be recorded here. “He has rung,” said a newspaper, “_the knell of gibbering_ GOSH!”[38]

The party remained in the country until the May of the year following. The receipts exceeded every forecast, a quarter of a million dollars having been taken in the first four weeks. But the expenses were enormous. The substantial profit was found in Irving’s securing a new, vast, and prominent audience in the West; in his winning the suffrages of Americans abroad as well as of those at home, who became his most fervent adherents.

The following is an amusing scene. Irving had been invited to the Journalists’ Club, and after the close of the performance of ‘Louis XI.,’ the actor had come round to the club, where he partook of a supper tendered to him by a few members in a private room. He had been in the building three-quarters of an hour before he made known his presence by coming upstairs, escorted by several gentlemen. The guest of the evening then held an informal reception.

“After he had said something pleasant to almost everyone, he volunteered to do his share towards entertaining those present. It had been slightly hinted to him that something of the kind was looked for, and he entered into the spirit of the occasion. Then the great tragedian turned from the serious to the comic. He recited, in a way that provoked roars of laughter, the funny little poem, ‘Tommy’s First Love.’

“When this was over there was a unanimous shout, which lasted several minutes. It was a loud cry for more. Mr. Irving expressed his willingness to give another recitation, and called for a chair. After sitting down he observed that, as all were standing, those in the rear could see but indifferently. ‘Suppose we change the stage management,’ he suggested. ‘Can’t we all sit down?’ This was received with some merriment, as there were few chairs in the room. Someone, however, saw Mr. Irving’s idea that those in the front ranks should sit upon the floor, and in a moment the four foremost lines were kneeling upon the carpet.

“Mr. Irving then recited ‘Eugene Aram’s Dream.’ The splendid elocutionary talents of the actor kept the audience spellbound. Every emotion, every pang of the schoolmaster was vividly depicted by the expressive face of the tragedian. The scene was a remarkable one. Mr. Irving threw himself so earnestly into the character that at one time _he tore the white necktie from his throat_ without realizing what he was doing, and, as his features were wrought up to show the usher’s agony, similar lines seemed to show themselves by sympathy in the faces of those present. At the close of the recitation the motionless figures, some standing, some sitting with crossed legs upon the floor, became moving, enthusiastic men. Those on their feet threw their arms into the air and cheered as if for dear life, while those on the floor bounded up simultaneously and expressed their enthusiasm. It was some time before the excitement subsided.

“I recited that once to a friend of mine,” said Mr. Irving, after quiet had been restored, “and what do you think he said? Why, he seriously exclaimed: ‘There is one point in that story that I’d like to know about. _What became of the boy?_’” This anecdote produced a chorus of laughter. After shaking hands all round, Mr. Irving went downstairs and out, accompanied by the club’s officers. Before he left the room, “Three cheers for Mr. Irving” were called for and given by throats already hoarse with applauding him.

A second American expedition followed in the September of the same year, during which a visit was paid to Canada.