NEW YORK received Miss Terry, on her first appearance before an
American audience, as cordially as it had welcomed Irving. It was as
Henrietta Maria that she spoke her first words on the stage of the New
World.[11] There is no more tenderly poetic play in the repertoire of
the modern drama than “Charles the First.” The story in Irving’s hands
is told with a truthful simplicity that belongs to the highest form of
theatrical art. All the leading critics recognized this. The effect of
the well-known Hampton Court cloth was so perfect in its way and so new
to some of them, that it was regarded as a cut cloth, with “raking”
and water pieces. The “Tribune” interpreted the general opinion of
the audience, when it said, “what most impressed them was Irving’s
extraordinary physical fitness to the accepted ideal of Charles Stuart,
combined with the passionate earnestness and personal magnetism that
enable him to create and sustain a perfect illusion”; while it may
be said to have just as happily expressed the views of another class
in the words, “To the student Mr. Irving’s Charles is especially
significant, as indicative of the actor’s method in applying what is
termed ‘natural’ treatment to the poetic drama.”
“Louis XI.,” “The Merchant of Venice,” “The Lyons Mail,” and “The
Belle’s Stratagem,” were the other pieces produced during the four
weeks in New York. The theatre was crowded nightly, and on the Saturday
_matinées_. The speculators found it easier to dispose of their
tickets, as the weeks wore on, even than during the first five or six
days of the engagement. Nothing damped the public ardor. The opera war
between Mapleson and Abbey, as representatives of two great parties
of wealthy art patrons, had no apparent influence on the receipts
at the Star Theatre. One of the greatest nights of the month marked
the first appearance of Patti at the Academy of Music. Inclement
weather, abnormal charges for seats, strong counterattractions at the
other houses, including the two grand Italian Opera Companies, might
have been expected to discount the financial success of any rival
entertainment. They made no difference to Irving. He was the talk, not
of New York, but of America; and after her appearance as Portia, Miss
Ellen Terry was almost as much written about as he himself. Unrivalled
in the higher walks of comedy, at home or abroad, Miss Terry is as new
to the American public in the naturalness of her methods, as Irving
himself.
Shylock excited controversy, Louis inspired admiration, Dubosc and
his virtuous double commanded respect, and the method of presenting
the plays was a theme of praise and delight in and out of the press.
Of Louis the “Sun” said “Mr. Irving won his audience to him almost
at once. It was impossible to withstand the intensity, the vivid
picturesqueness, and imposing reality of his portrayal, and after
each great scene of the play he was called again and again before the
curtain by hearty and most demonstrative applause. It was a wonderful
performance, and the impression that it left is one that can never be
laid aside.” The “Times” was struck with his appearance. “His make-up
is as perfect in its kind as that of Charles the First, and nobody
would imagine the actor to be the same as the actor in either of the
other parts which he has presented. But the verisimilitude here goes
much deeper than the make-up. There is the senile garrulity and the
senile impatience of garrulity, the senile chuckle over successful
strokes of business. And this character is deepened as the play
advances. The occasional expressions of energy are spasmodic; and after
each the patient relapses into a still more listless apathy, and this
decay is progressive until the death-scene, which is the strongest and
most impressive piece of realism that Mr. Irving has yet given us.”
The “Herald” commended Shylock to the Shakespearian student, “as the
best exposition of the character that can be seen on the stage”; while
the “Tribune” said of Miss Terry, “Her simple manner, always large and
adequate, with nothing puny or mincing about it, is one of the greatest
beauties of the art which it so deftly conceals. Her embodiment of a
woman’s loveliness, such as in Portia should be at once stately and
fascinating, and inspire at once respect and passion, was felicitous
beyond the reach of descriptive phrases. Her delivery of the Mercy
speech was one of the few perfectly modulated and entirely beautiful
pieces of eloquence that will dwell forever in memory. Her sweet and
sparkling by-play in the ‘business’ about the ring and in her exit
can only be called exquisite. Better comedy has not in our time been
seen.”[12]