ere
exceptions, of course.

When it came to the last ten days before the date named for the
production of "Hamlet," and my scenes with him were still unrehearsed, I
grew very anxious and miserable. I was still a stranger in the theater,
and in awe of Henry Irving personally; but I plucked up courage, and
said:

"I am very nervous about my first appearance with you. Couldn't we
rehearse _our_ scenes?"

"_We_ shall be all right!" he answered, "but we are not going to run the
risk of being bottled up by a gas-man or a fiddler."

When I spoke, I think he was conducting a band rehearsal. Although he
did not understand a note of music, he felt, through intuition, what the
music ought to be, and would pull it about and have alterations made. No
one was cleverer than Hamilton Clarke, Henry's first musical director,
and a most gifted composer, at carrying out his instructions. Hamilton
Clarke often grew angry and flung out of the theater, saying that it was
quite impossible to do what Mr. Irving required.

"Patch it together, indeed!" he used to say to me indignantly, when I
was told off to smooth him down. "Mr. Irving knows nothing about music,
or he couldn't ask me to do such a thing."

But the next day he would return with the score altered on the lines
suggested by Henry, and would confess that the music was improved. "Upon
my soul, it's better! The 'Guv'nor' was perfectly right."

His Danish march in "Hamlet," his Brocken music in "Faust," and his
music for "The Merchant of Venice" were all, to my mind, exactly
_right_. The brilliant gifts of Clarke, before many years had passed,
"o'er-leaped" themselves, and he ended his days in a lunatic asylum.

The only person who did not profit by Henry's ceaseless labors was poor
Ophelia. When the first night came, I did not play the part well,
although the critics and the public were pleased. To myself I _failed_.
I had not rehearsed enough. I can remember one occasion when I played
Ophelia really well. It was in Chicago some ten years later. At Drury
Lane, in 1896, when I played the mad scene for Nelly Farren's benefit,
and took farewell of the part for ever, I was just _damnable_!

Ophelia only _pervades_ the scenes in which she is concerned until the
mad scene. This was a tremendous thing for me, who am not capable of
_sustained_ effort, but can perhaps manage a _cumulative_ effort better
than most actresses. I have been told that Ophelia has "nothing to do"
at first. I