still some idea of her
becoming a singer, but I strongly advised the stage, and wrote to my
friend J. Comyns Carr, who was managing the Comedy Theater, that I knew
a girl with "supreme talent" whom he ought to engage. Lena was engaged.
After that she had her fight for success, but she went steadily forward.

Henry Irving has often been attacked for not preferring Robert Louis
Stevenson's "Macaire" to the version which he actually produced in 1883.
It would have been hardly more unreasonable to complain of his producing
"Hamlet" in preference to Mr. Gilbert's "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern."
Stevenson's "Macaire" may have all the literary quality that is claimed
for it, although I personally think Stevenson was only making a
delightful idiot of himself in it. Anyhow, it is frankly a burlesque, a
skit, a _satire_ on the real Macaire. The Lyceum was _not_ a burlesque
house! Why should Henry have done it?

It was funny to see Toole and Henry rehearsing together for "Macaire."
Henry was always _plotting_ to be funny. When Toole as Jacques Strop hid
the dinner in his pocket, Henry, after much labor, thought of his hiding
the plate inside his waistcoat. There was much laughter later on when
Macaire, playfully tapping Strop with his stick, cracked the plate, and
the pieces fell out! Toole hadn't to bother about such subtleties, and
Henry's deep-laid plans for getting a laugh must have seemed funny to
dear Toole, who had only to come on and say "Whoop!" and the audience
roared!

Henry's death as Macaire was one of a long list of splendid deaths.
Macaire knows the game is up, and makes a rush for the French windows at
the back of the stage. The soldiers on the stage shoot him before he
gets away. Henry did not drop, but turned round, swaggered impudently
down to the table, leaned on it, then suddenly rolled over, dead.

Henry's production of "Werner" for one matinee was to do some one a good
turn, and when Henry did a "good turn," he did it magnificently.[1] We
rehearsed the play as carefully as if we were in for a long run.
Beautiful dresses were made for me by my friend Alice Carr. But when we
had given that one matinee, they were put away for ever. The play may be
described as gloom, gloom, gloom. It was worse than "The Iron Chest."

[Footnote 1: _From my Diary, June_ 1, 1887.--"Westland-Marston Benefit
at the Lyceum. A triumphant success entirely due to the genius and
admirable industry and devotion of H.I., for it is jus