act she struck, in
natural and noble indignation, the libertine who had betrayed her, there
was, I think, no one in the theatre who did not recognise that in Miss
Terry our stage possesses a really great artist, who can thrill an
audience without harrowing it, and by means that seem simple and easy can
produce the finest dramatic effect. Mr. Irving, as Dr. Primrose,
intensified the beautiful and blind idolatry of the old pastor for his
daughter till his own tragedy seems almost greater than hers; the scene
in the third act, where he breaks down in his attempt to reprove the lamb
that has strayed from the fold, was a masterpiece of fine acting; and the
whole performance, while carefully elaborate in detail, was full of
breadth and dignity. I acknowledge that I liked him least at the close
of the second act. It seems to me that here we should be made to feel
not merely the passionate rage of the father, but the powerlessness of
the old man. The taking down of the pistols, and the attempt to follow
the young duellist, are pathetic because they are useless, and I hardly
think that Mr. Irving conveyed this idea. As regards the rest of the
characters, Mr. Terriss's Squire Thornhill was an admirable picture of a
fascinating young rake. Indeed, it was so fascinating that the moral
equilibrium of the audience was quite disturbed, and nobody seemed to
care very much for the virtuous Mr. Burchell. I was not sorry to see
this triumph of the artistic over the ethical sympathy. Perfect heroes
are the monsters of melodramas, and have no place in dramatic art. Life
possibly contains them, but Parnassus often rejects what Peckham may
welcome. I look forward to a reaction in favour of the cultured
criminal. Mr. Norman Forbes was a very pleasing Moses, and gave his
Latin quotations charmingly, Miss Emery's Sophy was most winning, and,
indeed, every part seemed to me well acted except that of the virtuous
Mr. Burchell. This fact, however, rather pleased me than otherwise, as
it increased the charm of his attractive nephew.

The scenery and costumes were excellent, as indeed they always are at the
Lyceum when the piece is produced under Mr. Irving's direction. The
first scene was really very beautiful, and quite as good as the famous
cherry orchard of the Theatre Francais. A critic who posed as an
authority on field sports assured me that no one ever went out hunting
when roses were in full bloom. Personally, that is exactly