rincess Lieven (the famous Russian ambassadress) and the celebrated
Guizot, the French Prime Minister and historian. I should have to veil
the identity _slightly_, and also make the story a husband and wife
story--it would be more amusing this way. It is comedy from beginning to
end. Sir Henry would make a splendid Guizot, and you the ideal Madame de
Lieven. Do let me talk it over with you. 'The School for Saints' was, as
it were, a born biography. But the Lieven-Guizot idea is a play.

"Yours ever affectionately,

"PEARL MARY THERESA CRAIGIE."

In another letter she writes:

"I am changing all my views about so-called 'literary' dialogue. It
means pedantry. The great thing is to be lively."

"A first night at the Lyceum" was an institution. I don't think that it
has its parallel nowadays. It was not, however, to the verdict of all
the brilliant friends who came to see us on the first night that Henry
Irving attached importance. I remember some one saying to him after the
first night of "Ravenswood": "I don't fancy that your hopes will be
quite fulfilled about the play. I heard one or two on Saturday night--"

"Ah yes," said Henry very carelessly and gently, "but you see there were
so many _friends_ there that night who didn't pay--_friends_. One must
not expect too much from friends! The paying public will, I think,
decide favorably."

Henry never cared much for society, as the saying is--but as host in the
Beefsteak Room he thoroughly enjoyed himself, and every one who came to
his suppers seemed happy! Every conceivable type of person used to be
present--and there, if one had the _mind_[1] one could study the world
in little.

[Footnote 1: "Wordsworth says he could write like Shakespeare if he had
the _mind_. Obviously it is only the mind that is lacking."--_Charles
Lamb's Letters._]

One of the liveliest guests was Sir Francis Burnand--who entirely
contradicted the theory that professional comedians are always the most
gloomy of men in company.

A Sunday evening with the Burnand family at their home in The Bottoms
was a treat Henry Irving and I often looked forward to--a particularly
restful, lively evening. I think a big family--a "party" in itself--is
the only "party" I like. Some of the younger Burnands have greatly
distinguished themselves, and they are all perfect dears, so unaffected,
kind, and genial.

Sir Francis never jealously guarded his fun for _Punch_. He was always
generous with