THE Chestnut Street Theatre, where Irving appeared on November 28, is
a handsome brick building. The width of the stage at the proscenium is
thirty-three feet, depth forty feet, height of proscenium forty feet.
There are three tiers of seats, which will accommodate one thousand
five hundred people. The theatre was first opened in 1863, under the
management of William Wheatley, with Edwin Forrest as the leading
actor. The interior was reconstructed in 1874, and improved in 1875,
with results that make the house singularly elegant and comfortable.
Among the audience on the first night of Irving’s appearance were
his old friend Mr. McHenry, and a party of relatives and friends;
the latter including Lord and Lady Bury, whom he and Miss Terry, and
several of his fellow-travellers, met at a number of social receptions
during the week.
Irving’s Louis made just as profound an impression here as in New York.
“No finer performance has been seen on the Philadelphian stage for many
years,” said the “Ledger.”—“From his first appearance on the stage
to the moment when he falls dead upon the floor, he rose from climax
to climax, and held, not the hearts, but the minds, of his audience
captive,” said the “Inquirer”; and they give the cue to the general
criticisms. The other plays were equally well received. Shylock excited
the usual controversy as to Shakespeare’s intentions, but none as to
Irving’s interpretation of his own views. The critics, on the whole,
were the honest mouth-pieces of the audiences in regard to their
enjoyment of the entire play. A writer, who confessed to disappointment
in Miss Terry’s Portia, and who counted Shylock’s business as above his
elocution, had no words to express his admiration of the entire setting
of the piece, which he described as “a discovery and a conquest.” It
is no reflection upon the literary skill and critical powers of the
Philadelphia press, when it has to be admitted that here and there
the notices bore evidence of an influence preceding Mr. Irving’s
appearance, notably in their criticisms of Hamlet.
“There are three kinds of criticisms,” said Irving, when discussing
this point one evening after a quiet supper: “the criticism that is
written before the play; the criticism that is more or less under the
influence of the preconceived ideas that are associated with previous
representations by other actors; and the criticism that is _bona
fide_ a result of the night’s performance, and also, in a measure,
an interpretation of the opinions of the audience. What I mean by a
criticism written before the play is the notice that has been partially
prepared beforehand, in connection with the literature of the subject,
and the controversies as to the proper or improper views taken of the
character under discussion. These start in on one side or the other,
just as the writer feels about it, irrespective of the art that is
exercised by the actor. This is more particularly the case in regard
to Shylock and Hamlet. As to the latter character there is the natural
loyalty some writers feel towards what is called the established or
accepted Hamlet of the country. It is not given to all men to feel that
art is universal, and of no country. Don’t think I am complaining; I
am not. I am trying to justify some of the Philadelphian notices of
Hamlet, which were in opposition to the verdict of the audience before
whom I played it in America for the first time.”
“You were warned that Philadelphia claims to occupy the highest
critical chair in America; and that, of all other cities, it would be
the least likely to accept a new Hamlet, especially a Hamlet that aims
at being natural as against the artificial school; or, in better words,
an impersonation as opposed to the so-called traditional school of
declamation.”
“I think that decided me to play Hamlet for the first time in
Philadelphia; and I never played it to an audience that entered more
fully into the spirit of my work.”
“I have never,” said a Philadelphian, “seen an audience in this city
rise and cheer an actor as they cheered you when you took your call
after the play scene in Hamlet. Such enthusiasm is unknown here. Miss
Terry and yourself both might have had scene-calls of the most cordial
character. You both refused them; it is a rule, I understand, with you
to do so. The excitement of some audiences would have been dampened by
these checks. Not so yours,—the calls at the close of the play were
quite phenomenal for Philadelphia.”
A numerous company of critics and reporters came from New York, Boston,
and other cities, to be present at Irving’s first appearance in Hamlet.
Nowhere at any time during the tour were the influences of London so
apparent as in the criticisms of Hamlet at Philadelphia; most of them
entirely out of harmony with the warmly expressed satisfaction of
one of the most intellectual and high-class audiences ever gathered
together in the Chestnut Street Theatre.[22] For instance, the “Evening
Bulletin” found in the duelling scene reminiscences of “æsthetic
sketches from ‘Punch,’” and the “Press” said “It is unfortunate that
Du Maurier has taken Miss Terry as the model of the æsthetic set. The
curly blonde hair, delicate face, and soft, clinging robes reminded
one so often of ‘Punch’s’ caricature, that it was difficult to take
it seriously.” There is, in certain critical circles of Philadelphia,
the same kind of affectation of a knowledge of English thought, and a
following of London taste, as there is in London in regard to French
art and French criticism. The audience at the Chestnut Street Theatre
had no difficulty in taking Miss Terry’s Ophelia seriously. There was
hardly a dry eye in the house during her mad scene. The “Bulletin”
critic aired his knowledge of English affectation by associating her
with “Burns-Jonesism”; but the “Times” found “Miss Terry’s Ophelia
tender and beautiful, and pathetic beyond any Ophelia we have lately
seen.” The “Record” described it as “sweet and unartificial as the
innocent and demented maiden Shakespeare painted for us.” Said the
“Inquirer,” in a criticism of singular literary force:—
In the play scene, in which he seemed to fill the whole stage, in
which a real frenzy appeared to fall upon his mind, he justified by
the greatness of his acting almost all that has been or could be said
in praise of it. So grandly and impressively did he bring the scene
to a close as to call down thunders of applause from an audience that
he had thrilled and swayed by a power undeniably great. If that scene
was ever before so nobly played we were not there to see it done. Mr.
Irving rose to greater heights of excellence as the play proceeded.
From the moment Miss Terry put her foot upon the scene she held and
controlled her audience as she would. Never before upon our stage has
there appeared an actress who played Ophelia with such lovely grace
and piteous pathos. To all who saw this most perfect performance it
was a revelation of a higher, purer, and nobler dramatic art than they
had ever seen or dreamed. What she did just here or there, or how she
did it, cannot be told. Over it all was cast the glamour of the genius
in which this fine woman is so greatly blessed. She does not seem to
act, but to do that which nature taught her.