THE WORK OF THE THEATRE
In 1887 my friend Mr. Beerbohm Tree, who had already won considerable
distinction as an actor, decided to enter upon the management of a
London theatre, and he asked me to associate myself with the enterprise.
The play chosen for his first venture was _The Red Lamp_ by Outram
Tristram, and it is an evidence of some element of strength and
distinction in the work that it still survives, after a lapse of
twenty-one years, as an integral part of Mr. Tree’s repertoire. At the
first it looked very much as though it had but little chance to survive
at all. Coldly received by the Press, it failed during the first days of
its run to attract the notice of the public; but little by little the
audiences grew in numbers, and as the season advanced the house was
crowded night after night by an eager and enthusiastic public.
With the close of the season Mr. Tree shifted his quarters to the
Haymarket, and there it still served him as his opening production while
more important work was in preparation. Those early days of managerial
experiences have left many pleasant recollections. We were both of us
new at our task, and both unshaken in our faith in the readiness of the
public to welcome every form of serious drama.
My alliance with Mr. Tree endured for some little time after his removal
to the Haymarket, and it was not until two years later that, at the
invitation of my friend Mr. Stuart Ogilvie, I undertook the independent
direction of the Comedy Theatre.
Among the writers with whom I was brought into contact during my term of
management was the late Robert Buchanan, a man who undoubtedly possessed
a remarkable talent, but who very often, from a certain indolence of
nature, did himself less than justice. I had met him first at the
Haymarket, where he had prepared a version of Daudet’s famous story of
_Froment Jeune et Risler Ainé_ for production on the stage, and I
confess at that time I was not prepossessed in his favour. It was
impossible at first to shake off the prejudice created by that
unfortunate article wherein, under an assumed name, he had attacked his
brother poets; nor indeed could that particular incident in his career
ever be in any way excused.
But I found in my later knowledge of him that he could boast of other
and better qualities than were exhibited here. A measure of poetic fancy
he had always possessed, a fancy very happily illustrated in the little
musical piece founded upon the story of _The Pied Piper of Hamelin_
produced under my management; but even there his better gifts suffered
from a lack of persistence in working out the theme under his hand. And
so it was with all that Buchanan accomplished. Sometimes a brilliantly
written scene would be followed and robbed of its effect by work that
was only perfunctory.
He had a sense of the stage, but he had never been at the pains fully to
master the conditions of the theatre, so that even in the best that he
accomplished he could not make full use of its resources or duly observe
its limitations.
It was during the period of my association with the Comedy Theatre that
Irving invited me to write for him a play on the subject of King Arthur.
He had already in his possession a drama by W. G. Wills upon the same
theme, and at first the project took the form of an offer on his part
that I should revise, and in part rewrite, Wills’s somewhat slovenly
essay. But when I tried to set myself to the task I found that, for me
at least, it was impossible of achievement. I had long known and loved
the Arthurian legends as they are enshrined in Sir Thomas Malory’s
exquisite romance, and it seemed to me that the tragedy that lay in the
loves of Lancelot and Guinevere was susceptible of more dramatic
treatment than Wills had accorded it. When I explained my difficulty to
Irving he at once gave to his original proposal a new form, permitting
me very willingly to abandon altogether Wills’s experiment and to write
for him a drama of my own.
When the time approached for its production he eagerly acquiesced, as I
have already related, in my suggestion that Burne-Jones should be
invited to design the scenery and costumes, and it was further agreed
between us that the music, which was destined to form an important
feature in the presentation of the piece, should be entrusted to Sir
Arthur Sullivan.
Sullivan was already counted among my intimate friends. I had met him
first many years before at Sir Coutts Lindsay’s country-house in
Scotland, and it was not long before the acquaintance ripened into a
close and lasting friendship. To those who knew and loved Sullivan, and
I think he was loved by all who knew him, the extraordinary charm of his
personality will be unreservedly acknowledged.
There have been few men in our time in any walk of life who have
possessed an equal measure of social fascination. His manner, always
sympathetic and sincere, suffered no change in whatever company he found
himself, and there was added to this finer quality of sympathy a quick
and delicate sense of humour that made closer comradeship with him
inspiring and delightful. And although he was well entitled to claim a
separate consideration for the art to which his whole life was
unsparingly devoted, it was wonderful to observe with what patience and
tact he subordinated any distinctive claim which I have known other
musicians, not so finely endowed, often to assert, and with how much
skilful readiness he could adjust the competing requirements of music
and the drama, when they had to be linked together, so as to produce a
combined effect upon the audience.
The subject of King Arthur, while the production was in progress at the
Lyceum, took a strong hold upon him, and it was only a very little while
before his death that he made a proposition to me that I should so far
rearrange the material I had treated as to provide a libretto for an
opera he had in his mind to compose.
[Illustration:
_Emery Walker_
SIR ARTHUR SULLIVAN
From the painting by Sir J. E. MILLAIS, Bart., P.R.A., in the National
Portrait Gallery.
_To face page 284._
]
It was some little time after the Lyceum production that I became even
more closely associated with him in the production of _The Beauty
Stone_. The book was written by Mr. Pinero and myself, and Sir Arthur
Sullivan was the composer. During a part of that time he occupied a
charming little villa at Beaulieu on the Riviera, and there I stayed
with him for six weeks while he was setting some of the more important
of the lyrics in the opera.
The near neighbourhood of Monte Carlo presented an element of temptation
to Sullivan, who was a born gambler. But he was at the time so hard set
upon his work that he announced to me on my arrival his fixed resolve
that our visits to the Casino should be strictly limited to two days in
the week. Like all born gamblers Arthur had his peculiar superstitions.
He could not endure to be watched while he was playing; and if he
chanced to catch sight of me anywhere near the table at which he was
seated, his resentment found eloquent expression. It was only when I
contrived to keep entirely out of sight that I was able to observe him
as he sat wholly absorbed in the play. The excitement to which he
yielded on these occasions was extraordinary, and the rapidity with
which he covered the series of chosen numbers very often outran his own
remembrance of what he had done.
I have seen him, as he passed from one table to the other, followed by a
friendly croupier carrying a handful of gold which he himself was
ignorant he had won. And when the evening closed, and we found ourselves
once more in the train that was to take us back to Beaulieu, he would
sometimes sink back entirely exhausted with the energy he had expended
in his three hours’ traffic in the rooms.
Our life at Beaulieu, wholly delightful as it was--for there never was a
host to equal him in simple and graceful hospitality--had nevertheless
its humorous aspects. We lived, indeed, a sort of Box and Cox existence.
The brisk air and bright climate tempted me to rise early, and I was
generally at work on the little terrace outside my room by nine o’clock
in the morning. It was Sullivan’s habit, on the other hand, to lie late,
and our first meeting of the day occurred only at lunch-time. Sometimes,
but not always, he would work a little during the afternoon, but it was
only when dinner was over, and we had played a few games of bezique,
that he set himself seriously to his task. We parted generally at about
eleven, and then Arthur’s musical day began. Withdrawing himself into a
little glass conservatory that overlooked the Mediterranean, he would
often remain at his desk, scoring and composing, till four or even five
o’clock in the morning, and it was only rarely during the labour of
composition that he had any need to have recourse to the piano to try
over a few notes of the melody he had under treatment.
His actual pen-work when he was engaged in scoring his composition for
the orchestra was of surprising neatness and delicacy, and I think it
was this part of his task he enjoyed the most. He used to say to me that
the invention of melody rarely presented to him any grave difficulty. It
flowed naturally, almost spontaneously, when he had once fixed the
musical rhythm which he felt the meaning of the words and the chosen
metre of the verse rightly demanded. Here he took extraordinary pains to
satisfy himself, and it was, I think, this spirit of exacting loyalty to
the special quality of each separate lyric that gave to his work its
special value in relation to the theatre.
Sullivan was always anxious to gather any hint or suggestion from the
writer with whom he was associated. I told him one day that in composing
verse that was to be set to music I always had some dumb tune echoing in
my brain, and I can recall now his futile endeavours to extract from me
even the vaguest idea of what this “unheard melody” might be. Sometimes
in a spirit of pure mischief he would see how far he could impose upon
my confessed ignorance of the musician’s art. He invited me one day to
his rooms in Victoria Street to listen to the musical form he proposed
to adopt in setting the final choruses of _King Arthur_, and when, after
playing over what he would himself have described as a “tinpot melody,”
he inquired if the result came up to my expectation, the imperturbable
gravity of his face entirely deceived me.
“Well, my dear Arthur,” I replied, “if that is what you propose, I can
only assume that one of us two is a vulgar fellow, and I suppose I am
the culprit.”
And then, with a twinkle in his eye, he said, “Well, perhaps you prefer
this,” and proceeded to play the melody he had really composed for the
purpose.
Unhappily, during the time that _The Beauty Stone_ was being composed,
poor Sullivan was often suffering great physical pain, which sometimes
rendered his task difficult and onerous. And yet even then the natural
brightness of his disposition constantly asserted itself, and he rarely
allowed others to be conscious of what he himself endured. How great was
the strain illness cast upon him became painfully apparent during the
period of our rehearsals; for, although he never spared himself, it was
clear to those who were near him that the cost to himself in nervous
exhaustion was often almost more than he could bear.
Those who followed his body to St. Paul’s will not easily forget the
touching solemnity of the occasion. His own Chorus from the Savoy was
permitted to sing one of his own beautiful compositions as the coffin
was slowly lowered into the vault. That so beautiful and sunny a nature,
rich in all the qualities that make for sweet friendship, and so nobly
endowed with gifts that leave his place as a musician lasting and
secure, should have been consigned to such martyrdom of physical
suffering ranks among those decrees of fate that it is vain to question
and idle to seek to evade. Few men could boast of having conferred upon
their generation such fresh and lasting enjoyment; for it may be
confidently said that, in that long series of works in which his name
will ever be associated with that of Sir William Gilbert, there was
added to the garnered store of the world’s pure pleasure a new harvest
of delight reaped from a field that none had tilled before.
To those who love the theatre the labours of rehearsal, though they are
exacting and sometimes exhausting, yield many delightful experiences.
There comes a moment even in the writing of a play when the puppets of
the author’s invention seem suddenly to take a detached existence and to
follow a law of development that is only half-consciously dictated by
their creator. This impression, which I suppose nearly all writers in
the region of fiction must have felt, is renewed and intensified as a
play takes shape upon the stage. The intrusion of the actor’s
personality, sometimes enhancing the original conception, and always in
some degree modifying the intended balance of the design, adds a new
colour to the written page. And then, as day by day the scattered
fragments are gradually united and the interpretation grows in emotional
strength, there come moments of keen enjoyment of the actor’s art that
equal, if they do not surpass, any later impression that may be yielded
when the performance is finally presented with the added effects of
costume and scenery.
The bare, empty stage, with the players in their ordinary working-day
dress, presents but a mournful appearance to a chance visitor who is a
stranger to the scene. But those who work day by day in the theatre
sometimes find, as the rehearsals advance, that this ill-lit,
unfurnished void can on a sudden be transformed into a world of
enchantment. The actor and the author together are as yet undisturbed in
their task, and what is still to come in the way of added illusion their
imagination can readily supply.
And yet the bringing together of all the contributory arts that are
combined in the service of an important production has an interest of
its own. From the initial step, when the little toy models of the
scenic artist are passed and approved, to the final moment of the dress
rehearsal, there is a vast amount of work to be done in every
department, and during the progress of that work the theatre becomes a
truly democratic institution. Author and composer, the master carpenter,
the property master, and the electrician are linked together in a spirit
of equal comradeship, and there is not one of them all who has it not in
his power to make or mar the work of his fellows.
It is one of the inscrutable laws of the theatre that nothing is ever
quite ready until the last moment. Costumes are delayed, properties are
incomplete, or it may be some scene that did not quite fit its purpose
is undergoing structural amendment, and has yet to receive the final
touches at the hands of the scene-painter. All these circumstances,
perhaps inevitable in view of the countless details that have to be
fitted together in order to perfect the complex puzzles of a production,
are apt to give to the final rehearsals an impression of chaos and
confusion. It is not an uncommon remark made by those who are admitted
to such rehearsals, “But you surely do not intend to produce this play
in two days’ time?” And, except to the expert who knows that what is
lacking is already in an advanced stage of preparation, the doubt
implied in the question is natural enough.
But even with all the experience of the expert there are occasions when
these inevitable delays approach very nearly to disaster. I remember
that the dress rehearsal of _Called Back_, when I had not yet gained a
full mastery over the mechanical resources of the theatre, lasted till
six o’clock in the morning, and during the small hours one after another
of the members of the company came to me and implored that the
production might be postponed. But with an audacity that was born of
inexperience I persisted that all would be ready in time. We left the
theatre at half-past six, and were back again at ten o’clock to renew
the rehearsal, and to the astonishment of all,--an astonishment in which
I confess I shared,--when the evening came, the play went without mishap
to a successful close. But these long rehearsals often result in trials
of temper as well as of strength, and now and again it happens that the
wearied stagehands are not wholly equal to their work.
_King Arthur_ was produced under conditions that were exceptionally
trying, for, at the time that the heavy scenic material had to be
arranged upon the stage, a pantomime was running at the theatre during
the afternoons. Much that was employed in the pantomime had to be daily
removed to make room for our own scenery, and replaced again for the
performance of the next afternoon. At one of the rehearsals, as Arthur
Sullivan and I stood upon the stage listening to his setting of the “May
Song,” the high platform upon which Queen Guinevere and her maids were
standing suddenly gave way, and to our horror fell with a crash to the
stage. For the moment we thought that some grave disaster must have
occurred, but with sudden instinct Miss Terry had flung herself prone
upon the pedestal where she had been standing, and escaped with nothing
more serious than a few bruises.
The protest against scenic display in the theatre is constantly renewed,
but is not always very intelligently directed. That scenery can be
inappropriate in its magnificence is true enough, but it is not less
true that it can be equally inappropriate in its inefficiency. The
question, when all is said, is one of taste and fitness, and involves no
irrefutable principle.
To ignore the enlarged resources of the modern scene-painter’s art
would, I think, be foolish, even if it were possible. The problem before
the theatre now is to control these resources, and to reconsider and to
reforge the means which shall set them again in clear subjugation to the
essential claims of the drama. It may be conceded that during the last
thirty years the need of this subjugation has not always been
sufficiently borne in mind, and there have been instances not a few
where the eye has been fed at the expense of the ear. But this scenic
art is a thing so beautiful in itself that it would be hard indeed if
any mere pedantry of taste should force its exclusion from the theatre.
INDEX
Abbey, Edwin, 150
Academy, Royal, 59, 94, 106-7, 143, 146, 245;
school of the, 109;
duties of the, 127-30
Actors’ Benevolent Fund, 189-90
Adelphi, the, 231
Adelphi Hotel, Liverpool, 50
Albany, the, 37
Albemarle Hotel, 259
Albert, Prince Consort, 129
Albery, Mr., 230
Albion Tavern, Drury Lane, 233-35
Algiers, 103-5
Alverstone, Lord, 186-88
American ambassadors, orators among the, 189
Amiens, 154
Aquarium, the, 78
Armstrong, Lord, 50
Armstrong, Thomas, 120
Arnold, Arthur, 28, 35
Arnold, Sir Edwin, 28
Arrowsmith, Messrs., 255
_Art Journal_, the, 146-49
Arts, relation of the, 210-14
Arts Club, the, 35, 85, 94, 114, 116, 123, 151, 152
Aspinall, Mr., 56
_Athenæum_, the, 29
Atkinson, 15
Ayrton, Mr., 174
Bancroft, Lady, 233, 261
Bancroft, Sir Squire, 259
Barnes Common, 1-2
Barnum’s Show, 78
Barrère, Camille, 35-36
Barry, 75
Bateman, Dick, 228-29, 232
Bateman, Isabella, 229, 230
Bateman, Richard, 228-35, 254
Bayard, Mr., speech of, 189-91
Beaconsfield, Earl, attack on Mr. Gladstone, 176-78;
visits to the Grosvenor, 179-80;
anecdote concerning, 180-81;
personality, 181-82;
style of oratory, 182-83
Beatty-Kingston, William, 42, 44-46
Beaulieu, 285-86
Beefsteak Club, the, 122, 255, 259
Beefsteak Room of the Lyceum, 241, 270
Beere, Mrs. Bernard, 195
Belt trial, the, 51-52
Bernhardt, Sarah, 239, 275, 279-80
Bigham, Lord Justice, 49
Billingsgate, 249
Birmingham University, 33
_Black and White_, 65
Blake, 74-75
Blandford Square, 121, 255
Bodichon, Madam, 103-4
Book illustration, 109-10
Botticelli, 67, 72, 74
Boughton, G. H., 266
Bow Street, 187
Box Hill, 206
Braid, Mr., 8
Brice, Prof. Stewart, 48
Bright, John, 168-75;
speeches on the Reform movement, 170-72;
impromptu speeches, 173-74;
his allusion to the “Scottish terrier,” 174-75;
Millais’s portrait, 175
British Museum, the, 109, 245
Brontës, the, 11
Brookfield, Charles, 215
Brown, Ford Madox, 63, 130
Browning, Robert, 10, 86, 204, 266;
poetry of, 199-201;
personality, 201-7;
Browning senr., 203
Bruce Castle School, 3-9, 38-39, 228
Bruce, Edgar, 255-56
Buchanan, Robert, 282-83
Burke, Mr., murder of, 267
Burne-Jones, Sir Edward, 8, 74, 85, 117, 130, 132, 210, 267, 283;
Rossetti on, 67, 69-70;
letter _quoted_, 71-72, 82;
the pre-Raphaelite movement, 76;
pen-sketches, 78-79;
essays in the grotesque, 79-80;
personality, 80-82
Buyers, modern, 131-32
Byron, Lord, 181
Café Royal, the, 115, 157-58
Calais, 153
Caldecott, Randolph, 120-21
Callander, 16-17
Cameron, Henry, 193, 198
Cameron, Mrs., 193, 194, 197
Campden Hill, 266
Canning, policy, 177
Caracci, the, 180
Carlyle, 11, 195
Carr, Mr. J. Comyns--boyhood, 1-13;
in the City, 13-14;
idle hours, 15-25;
Junior of the Northern Circuit, 48-58;
theatre management, 281-92;
Journalistic work--_Dramatic and Musical Review_, 26-28;
_Echo_, 28, 35;
_Globe_, 28-36, 38, 59, 68, 264;
_Pall Mall Gazette_, 35, 36, 102, 146;
“Ignotus” articles, 63-64, 71;
_Saturday Review_, 36, 38, 59, 206, 215;
_Examiner_, 36, 38, 46-47, 59;
_World_, 36, 38;
_Manchester Guardian_, 38, 146, 150, 153;
editor of the _English Illustrated Magazine_, 40, 118, 158-65, 257;
English editor of _L’Art_, 140, 146;
_Art Journal_, 146-47, 149;
_Academy_, 150;
_Portfolio_, 149
Dramatic work--_King Arthur_, 83-84, 279, 284, 287, 291-92;
_Called Back_, 255-56;
_Dark Days_, 256;
_The United Pair_, 257;
_The Beauty Stone_, 285, 287-88;
contributions to the performances at St. George’s Hall, 257-58
Carr, Mrs. J. Comyns, _North Italian Folk_, 120
Cavendish, Lord Frederick, 267
Chalons, 72
Chamberlain, Mr., 152;
Mr. Parnell’s attack on, 185-86
Cheyne Walk, Rossetti’s home, 65, 69;
Whistler’s home, 135, 136, 141, 142
Child, Mr., 152-53
Choate, Mr., 189
Churchill, Lord Randolph, 240-41
Cleveland, President, the Venezuelan crisis, 189-90
Coal Hole, the, 33
Coleridge, Lord, 56
Collins, Lord Justice, 49
Collins, Prof. Churton, 33-34, 229
Cologne, 243;
Custom House, 120
_Cologne Gazette_, 265
Colvin, Prof. Sidney, 36, 102
Comedy Theatre, 160, 282, 283
Constable, 91
Continental Hotel, 271
Conway, Hugh, _The Family Affair_, 162;
_Called Back_, 255-56;
personality, 257
Cook, Dutton, 231
Cook, Mr., 37
Coquelin, 279
_Cornhill Magazine_, the, 9-10, 29, 95, 110
Correspondents, special, 39-47
Corry, Montague (Lord Rowton), 267
Cotton, Mrs., prosecution of, 56-57
Crane, Walter, 161
Craven, Hawes, 84, 243
Crawford, Marion, 159
Creighton, Bishop, 47
Crimean remembrances, 3
Croizette, 279
Crompton, Charles, 48, 57
Cumberland, fishing in, 21-22;
walking tours, 24-25
Custom House, the, 249
_Daily News_, the, 40-41
_Daily Telegraph_, the, 28, 43
Daudet, 282
_Débâts_, the, 157
Delane, Mr., 277
Delaunay, 278
Delmas, M., 4
Desclée, 239
Design, renewed study in, 111
Dickens, Charles, 9, 11, 77, 89, 137, 205, 223;
“Mr. Pecksniff,” 147;
his likeness to Tennyson, 194;
on Irving, 230
Dilke, Sir Charles, 146
Dochart, Loch, 18
Doyle, Richard, 119-20
_Dramatic and Musical Review_, the, 26
Drury Lane Theatre, 232
Dublin, 240
Dudley Gallery, 121
Duffield, Richard, 215
Dumas, _L’Étrangère_, 279
Dumfries, 251
Dungeon Ghyll, 24
Dungeon Ghyll Hotel, 25
Duse, Madame, 280
Easedale Tarn, 24
Echenique, 6
_Echo_, the, 28, 35
Elgin Marbles, the, 109
Eliot, George, 11
Emerson, 11
_English Illustrated Magazine_, the, 40, 118, 257;
wood-engravings, 158-59;
literary contributors, 159-66
Engraving, renewed study of, 111
Erckmann-Chatrian, 230
_Examiner_, the, 36, 38, 46, 59
Farringford, home of Tennyson, 193, 194, 197
Faulkner, Charles, 8
Fechter, Charles, 232, 273, 274
Fifeshire, 23
Fishing, the Scottish gillie, 18-21;
the art of, 22-23
Fleury, Robert, 97
Florence, school of, 75, 76
Forbes, Archibald, 39-42
Français, Theatre, 245
Francillon, the novelist, 29-33
Franco-German War, 40, 157, 278
Freshwater, 193
Froude, 11
Fuseli, 75
Gaiety Restaurant, the old, 30, 259
Gaiety Theatre, the, 229, 232, 246
Gainsborough, 93
Gallery of Illustration, Regent Street, 258
Gambetta, 35
Garrick Club, the, 90, 164, 183, 184
Garrison, William Lloyd, 170
Gauthiot, M., 157-58
George III., 128
German Reeds, the, 121, 257-59
Gilbert, Sir John, 109, 119
Gilbert, Sir William, 53-54, 288
Giorgione, 180
Giotto, 73
Gladstone, W. E., 190;
Burne-Jones on, 76;
Millais’s portrait, 175;
style of oratory, 175-76;
his reply to Disraeli’s attack _quoted_, 176-78;
visits to the Grosvenor, 178-79;
his treatment of Parnell, 188
Glasgow, 255
Glebe Place, 143
Glenesk, Lord, 20
Glenmuick, 20
_Globe_, the, the author’s work as dramatic critic, 28-38, 59, 68, 264;
“Ignotus” articles, 63, 71
Got, 278
Gothard Pass, 21
Grain, Corney, 258-59
Grange, the, home of Burne-Jones, 73, 83
Granville, Dr. Mortimer, 28
Grasmere, 16, 24
Great Russell Street, 45
Greenwood, Frederic, 36-37
Grosvenor Gallery, establishment, 65, 127, 129-32, 266, 268-69;
exhibitions, 76, 89-90, 120, 133, 143, 146, 178-80, 198;
Millais’s works, 89-90
Grove End Road, house of Sir L. Tadema, 267-68
Gully, _see_ Selby, Viscount
Gurney, Overend, 12
Guy Fawkes, 2
Hake, George, 64
Hall, Mrs., 147-48
Hall, Samuel Carter (“Mr. Pecksniff”), 146-49
Hallé, Sir Charles E., 89, 126, 132, 146
Hamerton, Philip, 149-50
Hamilton, Lady, 264
Hannen, Mr. Justice, the Parnell trial, 186-88
Harcourt, Sir William, 23, 180-81
Hare, Sir John, 233, 236, 259
Harrop Tarn, 21
Harte, Bret, 159, 223-24
Harwood, Mr., 7, 37-38
Hawtrey, Charles, 256
Haydon, 75
Haymarket Theatre, the, 257, 281-82
Henley, relations with Stevenson, 215, 218-19;
Irving and, 219-21
Henschell, 119
Herschell, Lord, 49, 55-56
Hertfordshire, 23
High White Stones, 24
Hill, Arthur, 3, 5, 6
Hill, Dr. Birkbeck, 6-8, 170
Hill, Sir Rowland, 3
His Majesty’s Theatre, 270
Holker, Lord Justice, 49, 54-55
Hollingshead, John, 232
Home Rule movement, the, 184-85
Hope, Beresford, 37
Horsman, Mr., 174-75
Horton, Miss Priscilla (Mrs. German Reed), 258
Houghton, Lord, 270-71
Howell, Charles, 141-42
Hughenden, 180-81
Hunt, Holman, 75, 111-13, 130
Huxley, Professor, 159
Hyde Park, 170
Ibsen, 208
_Illustrated London News_, the, 97
Indian Mutiny, 2-3
Inglis, Mr., 186
Inner Temple, 14
Irving, Sir Henry, 52, 83, 152, 196;
production of _Becket_, 195-96;
attack on Henley, 219-21;
anecdotes concerning, 221-23, 234-36;
Bob Gassett in _Dearer than Life_, 229;
in _Fanchette_, 230;
Digby Grant in _The Two Roses_, 230, 235-36;
in _The Bells_, 231-34, 239;
personality, 236-38, 241-43, 270-72;
in _Hamlet_, 239-41;
visit to Nuremberg, 243-44;
in _Charles I._, 254;
Ellen Terry and, 279-80;
his request to the author, 283-84
Italy, Northern, aspects of character in, 19
James, Edwin, 167
James, Henry, 159
Jameson, Frederick, 206, 260
Jefferies, Richard, 159;
“The Gamekeeper at Home,” 163-64
Jesmond Dene, 50
Jeune, Sir Francis, _see_ St. Helier, Lord
Jeykell, Miss, 103-5
Johnson, Dr., 7
Jonby, 15
Journalism, relation to literature, 47
Junior of the Circuit, the, 49-50, 56
Keats, 68, 200
Keene, Charles, 118, 244;
sketch of, 114-15
Kelly, Mr., 255
Kelmscott, home of Rossetti, 64
Kennedy, Lord Justice, 49
Kensington Gardens, 90
Killin, 19
Kinsmen Club, the, 223
Knight, Joseph, 264
_Labour News_, the, 27-28
Lambs Club, the, 117, 259-61, 263
Landor, Rossetti on, 68-69
Landseer, Sir Edwin, 72, 88;
personality, 105-7
Langdale Pikes, 24
_L’Art_, 140, 146
_L’Art en Province_, 153
Lawson, Cecil, exhibitions at the Grosvenor, 133, 143;
the “Minister’s Garden,” 143;
the “Pastoral,” 143;
personality, 144-45
Leech, John, 89, 118
Leigh’s School, 109
Leighton, Sir Frederick, 44, 275;
Rossetti on, 67-68;
personality, 93-96;
letter to the author _quoted_, 97-99
Leslie, George, letters to the author _quoted_, 103-7
Lewis, Lady, 79-80, 267
Lewis, Leopold, 230
Lewis, Sir George, 51, 80, 183, 187, 267
Leyland, Mr., 134
Liddon, Canon, 167
Lindsay, Lady, 137, 266-67
Lindsay, Sir Coutts, 119, 132, 143, 146, 266-67, 284
Literature, its relation to music, 211
Locker, Frederick, 198-99
Lockwood, Sir Frank, 190
London University, 14
Louvre, the, 245
Lowe, Mr., M.P., 174-75
Lowell, James Russell, 189
Luib, 18
Lyceum, the, 84, 152, 195, 221, 229, 241, 254, 270, 274, 279, 284
Lynn-Linton, Mrs., 265
M’Connell, Mr., 50, 55
Macfarlane, Mr., 251
Maclure, Macdonald and Macgregor, Messrs., 166
Macmillan, Messrs., 158
Macready, 232
Maidenhead, 117
Malory, Sir Thomas, 83, 283
Manchester Art Gallery, the, 153
_Manchester Guardian_, the, 38, 146, 150, 153
Manor House, Barnes Common, 1-2
Marlborough, Duke of, 240
Marshall, Gen. Henry, 3
Marston, Dr. Westland, 263-65
Martineau, James, preaching of, 167-69
Maurier, M. Du, 114;
personality, 116-17;
work on _Punch_, 117-18;
his love of music, 118-19;
drawing of Frederick Locker, 199
Mecklenburg Square, 43
_Men of the Time_, 97
Meredith, George, 159;
_Evan Harrington_, illustrations, 114;
“The Old Chartist,” illustration, 115;
personality, 205-8;
sonnets on Modern Love, 207;
comment on Ibsen, 208
Michael Angelo, 73, 180
Mill, J. S., 11, 176
Millais, Sir J. E., 63, 75, 116, 138;
Rossetti on, 67, 87;
the author’s early criticism on, 85-86;
the “Carpenter’s Shop,” 86;
“Feast of Lorenzo,” 86;
“The Huguenots,” 86, 90, 92, 93;
“Ophelia,” 86, 92, 93;
personality, 86-89, 90-92, 99-101;
the Grosvenor Gallery exhibitions, 89-90;
his special power, 91-93;
contrasted with Leighton, 93-96;
black and white work, 111-13;
attitude towards the Royal Academy, 130;
portrait of John Bright, 175;
of Gladstone, 175;
of Tennyson, 193;
of Dickens, 194
Miller, Joachim, 264
Millet, Frank, 150
Milton, 200
Minto, Professor, 46-47
Mitre Tavern, Temple Bar, 158
Monnet, 279
Montague, Henry, 234-35
Montague, H. J., 260-61, 273
Monte Carlo, 285
Moore, Albert, 66, 138
Morris, William, 72;
_The Defence of Guinevere_, 10, 208;
poetry of, 208-9;
personality, 209-10
Music, claims of, 210-12
National Gallery, the, 128, 245
Neilson, Adelaide, 264
New Gallery, 126-27, 131-32, 178, 179
Newman, Messrs., 126
North, Mr., 164
Northern Circuit, the, 48-58
Nuremberg, 243
Ogilvie, Mr. Stuart, 282
Old Masters, value of, 131-32
Old Square, Lincoln’s Inn, 41
Oliphant, Lawrence, 159, 164-65
Oliphant, Mrs., “The Lake of Tiberias,” 164-65
_Once a Week_, 107, 110, 113-14, 117
O’Neil, Arthur, 26-28
O’Neil, Henry, 26
Oratory, the art of, 167-92
Orsini, defence of, 167
Oxenford, John, 276-78
Oxford Union Debating Society, 177-78
Pagani’s Italian Restaurant, 121
Palais Royal Theatre, 100
Pall Mall exhibitions, the, 134
_Pall Mall Gazette_, 35, 36, 47, 102, 146, 163, 231
Pall Mall Restaurant, 158
Parnell, C. S., the trial, 186-88;
character, 188;
the forged letter, reply to Mr. Chamberlain, 183-86
Parry, Mr., 258
Parsons, Alfred, 151, 152, 164
Patterdale, 24
Payne, Bernal, 102
Pellegrini, Carlo, 121-25
Penzance, Lord, 49
Perugini, Mrs., 194
Phelps, 232, 244
Pigott, 186, 187
Pinero, _The Beauty Stone_, 285, 287-88
Poe, Edgar Allan, 257
Poetry, music in, 210-12
Poets, some Victorian, 193-214
Pollock, Walter Herries, 37, 215
Pope, Sam, 49, 56
_Portfolio_, the, 149
Power, Richard, 184
Pre-Raphaelites, the, 60, 63, 75-76, 130
Previtale’s, 81
Prince of Wales’s Theatre, 255-56, 261
Princess’s Theatre, 244
_Punch_, 114, 117-18
Purnell, Thomas, 254;
anecdotes concerning, 28-34;
story told by, 147-48
Queen’s Theatre, 229
Rabelais Club, 221
Rachel, Madame, 275
Rae, Mr., of Birkenhead, 63, 65
Raleigh Club, 258
Rannoch, 23
Raphael, 180
Rasselas, mountains of, 182
Reade, Charles, 280
Reed, Alfred, 258
Reform Bill of 1832, 177;
of 1867, 182
Reform, John Bright’s speeches on, 170-75
Restaurants, London, 158
Reynolds, 93
Ristori, Madame, 275-76
Robertson, Tom, 233, 261
Robinson, Sir John, 40-41
Rossetti, Dante Gabriel, 7, 8, 10-11, 60, 72, 75, 85, 115, 117, 130;
the pre-Raphaelite movement, 63, 76;
works of, 64-65;
friendship with the author, 64-70;
expressed opinions of, 66-69, 87;
black and white work, 111, 112;
illustrations for Tennyson’s poems, 112-13;
personality, 264
Rothenberg-on-the-Tauber, 243
Rubens, 80
Ruskin, 11, 60, 113, 138, 141
Russell, Lord, on the Northern Circuit, 49-54, 56-57;
the Parnell trial, 186-88
Russell, Sir William, 39
Sadler’s Wells Theatre, 26, 244
St. George’s Hall, 121, 257-59
St. Helier, Lord, 189
St. James’s Hall, 170, 173, 194
St. Paul’s, burial of Sullivan, 288
Sala, George Augustus, 42-44, 46
Salvini, 275, 278-79
Sandys, Frederick, 114-16
_Saturday Review_, the, 7, 36, 37, 38, 47, 59, 206, 215, 265
Savile Club, the, 215, 219, 223
Savoy, chapel of the, 30
Schlesinger, Dr. Max, 265-66
Scotland, early fishing excursions in, 17-22
Scott, Sir W., 218
Scottish character, some aspects, 17-21, 153-57
Selby, Viscount, 49
Selous, Fred, 4
Severn, Arthur, 121
Shakespeare, 162-63, 200
Shield, Hugh, 55
Simpson’s Restaurant, 158
Skinner, Alan, 41-42, 167
Skinner, Hilary, 41-42
Smith, Prof. Goldwin, 183
Soria, De, 119
South Kensington Museum, 245
Spaniard’s Inn, Highgate, 251
Spurgeon, preaching of, 167-68
Stanley, Dean, 167
Steinle, 97, 98
Stevens, Alfred, 130
Stevenson, R. L., personality, 215-19
Stickle Tarn, 24-25
Stratford-on-Avon, 152
“Student Williams,” 47
Sullivan, Sir Arthur, 283;
_King Arthur_, 283, 287, 291-92;
personality, 284-86;
_The Beauty Stone_, 285, 287-88;
method of work, 286-87;
death, 288
Sully, 279
Swinburne, A. C., 7, 10, 77, 159;
the new music in his poetry, 208-12
Switzerland, 21
Tadema, Lady, 267-68
Tadema, Sir Laurence, 80, 82, 267-68
Taylor, Tom, 193
Tebbs, Mr. Virtue, 66
Tenniel, Sir John, 114
Tennyson, Horatio, 198
Tennyson, Lionel, 198
Tennyson, Lord--_Poems_ (edition 1857), 112-13;
appearance, 193-94;
_The Princess_, 194-95;
_The Promise of May_, 195;
_Becket_, 195, 196;
_The Cup_, 195, 196;
personality, 197-98, 200, 205;
Browning’s admiration for, 204
Terriss, William, 3, 5
Terry, Ellen, visit to Nuremberg, 243-44;
in _Butterfly_, 255;
Sarah Bernhardt’s compliment to, 279;
in _King Arthur_, 291-92
Terry, Kate, 274
Thackeray, W. M., 9-11, 95-96, 110, 205
_The Theatre_, 221
Theatre, the, impressions of childhood, 225-28;
condition of the stage on the advent of Irving, 232;
the actor’s art, 237-49;
need for a national theatre, 244-46;
rehearsals, 288-91;
the question of scenery, 291-92
Thirlemere, 21
Thomson, Hugh, 165-66
Thorne, Tom, 234-35
_Times_, the, 56, 183-84, 276-77
Tissot, James, 268-70
Titian, 180
Toole, J. L., 229-30, 234-35, 250, 254;
friendship with Irving, 241, 246;
personality and anecdotes, 246-53;
a day’s fun, 247-50
Toole’s Theatre, 255
Tottenham Court Road Theatre, 232, 281
Tower of London, visit of Toole, 248-49
Townsend House, 267
“Trafalgar,” Greenwich, 37
Tree, Beerbohm, 256, 270, 281-82
Tristram, Outram, 281
Turner, 66
Ullswater, 15
Unitarian chapel, Great Portland Street, 167, 169
United States, quality of illustrations in, 159
_Vanity Fair_ cartoons, 121, 165
Vaudeville Theatre, 234-35
Venezuela, 189
Verrey’s Restaurant, 158
Vinci, Leonardo da, 180, 245
Walker, Frederick, 114, 144;
personality, 102, 105-7;
visit to Algiers, 103-5;
his work, 107-10
Walking tours, 23-25
Walton, 267
Water-Colour Society, 74
Watts, G. F., 63, 72, 73, 129, 169, 193
Watts-Dunton, Theodore, 47, 159
Webster, _The Duchess of Malfi_, 276
Webster, Sir Richard, _see_ Alverstone, Lord
Westminster Club, the, 254
Westmoreland, fishing in, 21-22;
walking tours, 24-25
Weyman, Stanley, 159-61
Whistler, J. A. M., 114, 115;
criticism of (1873), 133-34;
public attitude, 134-35;
personality 135-38;
style, 138-39;
his love of contest, 139-42;
friends, 142-43;
at Lawson’s, 143
Whymper, T. W., 109
Wilde, Oscar, 118;
poetry of, 212-13;
dramatic work of, 213-14
Wills, W. G., 221-22, 283;
_Charles I._, 254
Wood-engraving, 109-10, 120, 158-59
Wordsworth, 200, 201
_World_, the, 36, 38, 40
Wurtzburg, 243
Yates, Edmund, 147;
founds the _World_, 36, 38-39, 40, 43, 44;
style of oratory, 191-92
_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh_.