CHIEFLY AT THE QUEEN'S THEATRE

As the carrier-dove invariably, and often after a period of long absence, wings its way back to its first home, so in due time Ellen Terry, bringing with her her long-desired message, fluttered back to the stage. We have seen how in 1866 she appeared at the Olympic, playing Helen to her sister's Julia, in "The Hunchback." This was a special occasion, but in the following year she, to the great delight of the public, entered once more on a regular engagement. This was at the Queen's Theatre in Longacre, and it came at the right time. In the August of 1867 playgoers had mourned for the loss of their beloved Kate Terry. In the following October Ellen Terry was at hand to take her place in their hearts. In the previous June she had acted at the Holborn Theatre in a short-lived play by Tom Taylor, entitled "The Antipodes, or Ups and Downs of Life." In it she had the support of a good company, which included that wonderful actress Charlotte Saunders; but though the drama dealt more or less effectively with the racing element in England and the digging element in Australia, it gave little or no chance to the performers, and is only mentioned here for purposes of record.

It was at the Queen's that the new laurels were to be won.

To the playgoers of to-day, who are accustomed to the theatres of Shaftesbury Avenue and the Charing Cross Road, and who are even inclined to regard the historic Strand as a decaying home for the players, it may seem strange to think of houses in Holborn and Longacre, but the Queen's was in its brief day very popular, and to mention it conjures up many happy memories. It was there that John L. Toole appeared in some of his best domestic comedy parts, with such actors as Henry Irving, Lionel Brough, Charles Wyndham, John Clayton, and Henrietta Hodson for his comrades; it was there that all London flocked to see Hermann Vezin in F. C. Burnand's convincing drama, "The Turn of the Tide" (founded upon the then deservedly popular novel, "The Morals of Mayfair"), and in W. G. Wills's first ambitious play, "Hinko"; and it was there that Shakespearean students revelled in Samuel Phelps's perfect impersonation of Bottom the Weaver, and George Rignold's striking, nay, almost startling, rendering of Caliban. Alas! for its many memories, the Queen's Theatre is no more, and, instead of stage, footlights, and auditorium, its walls encase the works of a Longacre carriage-building firm.

When, on its opening night, Ellen Terry joined this now defunct playhouse, its fortunes were controlled by Alfred Wigan, with Charles Reade—who, as we all know, was one of the greatest literary geniuses of his time—for an ally. I meet young people to-day who tell me they have never read this fine novelist's glorious romance, "The Cloister and the Hearth," and say they "don't think they should like it." I am truly sorry for them.

Charles Reade, although his works were greedily snapped up by the publishers, loved the stage, had great faith in his own plays, and took endless trouble over their production.

His drama, "The Double Marriage," was taken from his novel, "White Lies" (which had been suggested by a French play from the pen of Auguste Maquet, entitled "Le Chateau de Grantier"), and it was produced at the Queen's on October 24th, 1867.

It is said that when a quick critic found out the source of the plot, Charles Reade was very angry, and it seems difficult to believe that so great a man should annex another writer's story without acknowledgment.

The cast of "The Double Marriage" was not only a strong but a very interesting one. Ellen Terry and Fanny Addison played the heroines; Alfred Wigan was the hero, Charles Wyndham had an effective part, and in a smaller one Lionel Brough made his dÉbut on the London stage.

Contrary to all expectation, and in spite of excellent acting, "The Double Marriage" did not attract the public. I shall always think that the play deserved a better fate. Years afterwards, on a provincial tour, it was revived by Arthur Dacre and his wife, the well-remembered Amy Roselle. Poor things! They had great faith in their venture, and had expended much money on special scenery and costumes. It was effective enough, and ought to have been attractive, but "bad luck" once more attended it, and I fear it was one of the many disappointments that led to the unfortunate Dacres' tragic end.

At the Queen's "The Double Marriage" soon gave way to a revival of Tom Taylor's perennial "Still Waters Run Deep." In this Ellen Terry played to admiration the by no means easy character of Mrs. Mildmay. Alfred Wigan resumed his original character of the self-contained John Mildmay; Mrs. Wigan was the Mrs. Sternhold; and Charles Wyndham (destined to become the best of all John Mildmays) the Captain Hawkesley. On December 26th a very interesting event took place. Garrick's one-act excision from "The Taming of the Shrew," dubbed "Katherine and Petruchio," was revived, and in it Ellen Terry played for the first time with Henry Irving. Critics very much differed as to the merits of the new "shrew" and her "tamer," and, indeed, they had not much chance in this abridged version of the comedy of displaying their ability, but in face of later theatrical history the meeting is noteworthy. It is a matter for regret that these distinguished artists have not included "The Taming of the Shrew" in their noble Shakespearean repertory at the Lyceum. Possibly they have been deterred by the perfect success made in the leading characters by their American contemporaries, Ada Rehan and John Drew. It has remained for them to show Shakespeare's comedy in all its glory. In her "Stray Memories," Ellen Terry has thus recorded the impression made upon her by Henry Irving in those early days:—

"From the first," she says, "I noticed that Mr. Irving worked more concentratedly than all the other actors put together, and the most important lesson of my working life I learnt from him, that to do one's work well one must work continually, live a life of constant self-denial for that purpose, and, in short, keep one's nose upon the grindstone. It is a lesson one had better learn early in stage life, I think, for the bright, glorious, healthy career of an actor is but brief at the best."

A very pleasant recollection of these days is Ellen Terry's appearance with John Clayton in Francis Talfourd's pretty comedietta, "A Household Fairy," which, with Mr. H. T. Craven and Miss Wyndham in the two parts that form the cast was first produced at the St. James's Theatre on December 24th, 1859. In later years it was admirably performed at the Globe Theatre, Henry Neville playing Julian de Clifford, and Lydia Foote, Catherine. But the sprightly, warm-hearted, and at the same time serious, "Kitty" of the Queen's added lustre to the author's meaning, and was, as he intended her to be, a veritable fairy of the fireside.

But at the close of this brief engagement Ellen Terry again said au revoir (luckily it was not adieu) to the stage, and for seven years her gracious presence was withdrawn from us.

During this period she became the wife of Mr. Charles Wardell, a gentleman well known to playgoers as Charles Kelly, the name he adopted when, retiring from his position as an officer in a first-class cavalry regiment, he followed his inclinations and took to the stage. In parts of what may be called a stolid type Charles Kelly had, in his day, no rival, and his successes were many. The character of Richard Arkwright in Tom Taylor's interesting drama, "Arkwright's Wife," was, probably, his greatest original achievement; but, as we shall presently see, he did admirable work in Shakespearean drama as well as in the modern plays in which his services were highly esteemed, and always in request. He was also an excellent comedian. When John Hare first gave his inimitable performance of Lord Kilclare in "A Quiet Rubber" at the Court Theatre, the honours were pretty equally divided between him and Charles Kelly, who, as the hasty-tempered but high-minded Irish gentleman, Mr. Sullivan, gave a masterly sketch of Hibernian character.

We were all sorry when our well-beloved petrel once more betook herself to the freedom of the winds and the waves; but we waited patiently in the certain hope that she would again return to the shore fringed by the footlights.

In the earliest days of 1874 London theatre lovers who were not behind the scenes were puzzled as to who an "eminent actress" could be who, "after a long period of retirement," was announced to appear at the Queen's Theatre as the heroine of Charles Reade's drama, "The Wandering Heir." With Mrs. John Wood in the character the piece had already made its mark, but that talented actress was under contract to appear elsewhere, and horses had to be swopped in the middle of a stream. Until almost the last moment the secret of the vague announcement was well kept, and then to the general joy it was discovered that the "dark lady" was Ellen Terry.

Of course her admirers rallied round her to a man—and woman—and her difficult task of succeeding an eminent artiste in a newly created part was not only fulfilled to perfection but crowned with well won approbation. There was no false note about the praise. The "wanderer" was not extolled because she was Ellen Terry, but because of the true excellence of her acting.

The enthusiasm of her reception and the appreciation of her critics must have warmed her heart and encouraged her, for she has said that from that time until the present she has never lost zest for her work.

Of this notable impersonation of Charles Reade's Philippa Chester (by the way, the play was no doubt suggested by the famous Tichborne case, which was then the talk of the hour), the critic of the Daily Telegraph said:—

"Miss Ellen Terry possesses exactly the qualifications demanded by such a character as Philippa, and the undiminished brightness and buoyancy of her style became at once apparent in the scene when the hoyden dwells with such delight on her love of boyish pastimes, yet shows how much she retains of girlish modesty and simplicity. Hardly less effective when the action is transferred to America, and Philippa appears in male attire, was her generous devotion to the interests of James Annesley—while the struggle under masculine garb to veil repeated signs of strong womanly devotion was most artistically indicated. Mr. Charles Reade's drama of 'The Wandering Heir,' which possesses a highly-interesting story wrought out with remarkable ingenuity, has thus become endowed with an additional element of attraction, and the prosperous career of a piece having a peculiar significance at the present time promises to be prolonged far beyond the hundred nights it has already nearly attained."

When his tenancy of the Queen's Theatre came to an end, the energetic Charles Reade took his plays and his loyal little company over Westminster Bridge to "Astley's," of immortal memory, and there Ellen Terry distinguished herself not only as Philippa Chester, but as Susan Merton in the famous "Never Too Late to Mend," which, admirable as it was in its volume form, became even more popular when transferred by its masterly author to the stage. Even after this lapse of time the stirring drama, teaching as it does the most useful of lessons, is a good one to conjure with, and in the provinces, at least, is always sure to attract its faithful pit and gallery.

Ellen Terry speaks very affectionately of clever and determined Charles Reade, and cherishes the memory of the time when she served under his somewhat formidably waved banner. "Dear, lovable, aggravating, childlike, crafty, gentle, obstinate, and entirely delightful and interesting Charles Reade," she calls him—and we may be quite sure that while she, despite his foibles, understood his great genius and noble heart, he, in his turn, appreciated her sweet nature and unlimited talents. Before taking leave of "The Wandering Heir" I must make mention of Edmund Leathes, who was the original James Annesley of the cast. He was a gifted as well as a graceful actor, he made his name as an author, and he vanished from us all too soon.

From the days of 1874 to these of 1901 Ellen Terry has always been with us. The carrier-dove had this time come home for good, and the message that she has constantly repeated has been ever a sweet one to those many thousands who, all unknown to her, not only admire but love her.