Note 30 — Chapter X · 1882. ‘ROMEO AND JULIET’—THE BANQUET.

Mr. Labouchere, a shrewd observer, a friend and admirer of the actor’s abilities, always speaks out his opinions in plain, blunt terms: “An actor must, in order to win popularity, have mannerisms, and the more peculiar they are, the greater will be his popularity. No one can for a moment suppose that Mr. Irving could not speak distinctly, progress about the stage after the fashion of human beings, and stand still without balancing to and fro if he pleased. Yet, had he not done all this, he would—notwithstanding that there is a touch of real genius about his acting sometimes—never have made the mark that he has. He is, indeed, to the stage what Lord Beaconsfield was to politics. That exceedingly able man never could utter the resonant clap-trap in which he so often indulged, and which made men talk about him, without almost showing by his manner that he himself despised the tricks which gave him individuality. Were Mr. Irving at present to abate his peculiarities, his fervent worshippers would complain that their idol was sinking into mere common-place. Therefore, as I sincerely hope that, for his sake, the idolaters will continue to bow down before him and fill his treasury, I trust that he will never change.” There is a cynical flavour in this, and it is not very flattering to the audience, but underlying it there is some truth.