Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1888-01-27
ELLEN TERRY.
The Astounding Energy OF thc CaaTm-
iEE Actress.
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There arc some people Won cannot in- /
teryiew, and Ellen Terry IS one OF them. /
The attempt is sometimes made, and I
the interviewer produces the regulation .
column, from which you learn that Miss
Terry glldos rather than walks, that she .
carves the joint at her domestic dinner,
that she thinks Mrs. Brown Potter very
pretty, that she likes many things II .
America, and that she feels very tired. /
The scribe who writes this knows quite /
well that he is no nearer the real woman .
than If he had never set eyes on her. F.
He has heard her talk for few minutes
so have hundreds Of people. She goes /
to a reception she * surrounded by adj |
mirers six deep; she is very simple and
gracious, and everybody is charmed, yet /.
not ono person in all the crowd has any F.
definite idea of her character
Yet there is nothing really mysterious I.
in this remarkable woman. She IS
as open rs the day. She has none of the /.
affectatious OF success, none OF the tricks I.
of theatrical business. She never poses /
for effect she never talks OF her post /
ton in the profession She never eXtols I
this person at the expense OF that. In /.
her large and generous nature the small .
foibles which theatrical life is so apt To /
foster have no place. No one could /
ever suspect her Of scheme. In /
everything she does, she lives with all F.
the fitness OF her soul. As she is upon /.
the stage, brimful Of Joyous simplicity. /
or broken by sudden grief, so she IS In
private to the few who know her well. .
She has had her share OF sorroHs, but
thew have not darkencd her sunny
spirit she has been surieited with the I
sweets Of fortune. but they have lett her
unspOiled. The natural fountain sparkles
in the sunshine or is dimmed by the
cloud, but its spring is never checked.
Such Is the vitality Of Ellen Terry.
Terribly weary sometimes, tormented by
seepleesness, craving for rest, she never
loses that Astounding energy which IN
vigorates everybody who is near her.
Others feel the strain OF ncessant work.
A dull rehearsal drags itself along, every
one is listleSs and unintcrested. Sudden
w Miss Terry flashes on the scene. 1t
is not one OF her best days She has not
slept the night before; She is pale,
and there is a tired look in the strange
gray eyes. But in an instant, what a
change Her presence Is ike news from
home. Her smiles fill the stage with ra-
dance. She scatters few kindly words,
and flowers sprlngup everywhere. flowers
of good humor aud gentle speech; and
though she yanishes as quickly as She
came everybody from the highest to the
lowest feels new heart and interest in the
days work.
One night in Boston, three years ago,
Mr. Irving was prevented, by temporary
indisposition, from playing Benedict.
There was sudden call on the resources
of the company, some shutting OF parts,
and n good deal of nervousness. Behind
the sceres oil Was excitement: IN front
speculation and curiosity. Never WIS
Beatrice in such irresistible spirits. She
filed every gap. she prompted her col
leagues, she seemed to be everywhere 1t
once. and when she came on With bound
at one point. and found that the wings
of the preceding scene were moving oil
too slowly, she gave one Of them a res0-
lutte and effectual push, amidst the raptu-
rous cheers Of the delighted spectators.
To many women this experience would
have been theme Of excited gossip for
a week. Ellen Terry thought no more
Of it than Of another unrehearsed inci-
dent which took place at the Lyceum
long ago. soon after she was first engaged
at that theatre.
1t was very dull one day, aud she
amused herself by sliding down the
banisters Of the staircase Lending to the
dressing-rooms. At this performance
several members OF the company stood
aghast. Nothing so audaclous mad ever
been seen in this temple OF the drama
and they held their breath at the thought
of what would happen if Mr.. Irving, OF
whom they were all in awe, should wit
ness the scene. Sure enough he came ST.
lently out Of the darkness and looked
erayely on. There was a pause, and
then the culprit went up to him with
clasped hands and a delicioussir of peni-
tence. and said "If you please, can't
help it. The place is so gloomy" And
over the great actors face came that pc
culiarly winning smile Of bis, and he
replied: 81 Ike it; do it again" There
was no more gloom at the Lyceum.
These things are unconventional, but
they are not the eccentricities in which
society delights. They cannot be turned
to account for the purposes OF advertise
ment. There is nothing in common be-
tween the spontaneous ebullitions OF a
nature like this and the decorated sur
faces which interest fashionable circles
in the world of art The mere element
of show, which enters so largely into
some phases OF the theatrical career,
is far removed from Ellen Ter
RVS sphere. She acts with all
her mind and heart, and her tears
show how false is the assumption that
real emotion on tue stage never moves
an audience. She listens with the same
intensity of sympathy. 10 is a study to
see her at the play. Any merit. however
small, enlists her attention at once. She
is an enthusiastic audience in herself. [
have seen company perform progidies
OF excellence that must have astonished
themselves under the inspiration OF that
face, responsive to every emotion OF the
scene.
With such nervous organization, so
delicate and highly strung, It is sur
prising that Ellen Terry has so much re-
serve of strength. But she was never
a woman to all and pine. When she
was child she played Puck in =" Mid
summer Nights Dream, under Charles
Kean. One night her foot was caught
in stage trap. The pain was 50 great
that she could scarcely staDd. Her sister
Kate rushed forward and threw her arms
around the little sufferers neck, and the
two children cried in chorus "Oh,
Nellie "Oh, Katie " while Mrs.
Charles Kean, who had neuralgia very
badly at the time, stood at the wings
with her head tied up in handkerchief
and great tears rolling down her cheeks,