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The Actor-Manager Career of Sir Frank Robert Benson in Perspective: an Evaluation

The Actor-Manager Career of Sir Frank Robert Benson in Perspective: an Evaluation

71-27,577

TOTH, John William, 1936- THE -MANAGER CAREER OF SIR FRANK ROBERT BENSON IN PERSPECTIVE: AN EVALUATION.

The Ohio State University, Ph.D., 1971 Theater 1

University Microfilms, A XEROK Company, Ann Arbor, Michigan

THIS DISSERTATION HAS BEÉI MICROFILMED EXACTLY AS RECEIVED THE ACTOR-MANAGER CAREER OF SIR FRANK ROBERT BENSON

IN PERSPECTIVE* AN EVALUATION

DISSERTATION

Presented in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree Doctor of Philosophy in the Graduate School of The Ohio State University

by John Willieun Toth, B.A., M.A.

********

The Ohio State University 1971

Approved by

Adviser Division of AC KNOWLEDGEMENTS

For their help in acquiring materials for this study, I wish to thank the following individuals: Miss Eileen Robinson, The Shakespeare Centre, Stratford- Upon-Avon; Mr, George Nashe and Mr, Tony Latham, The

Enthoven Collection, The and Albert Museum, London,

My sincere thanks I extend to Dr, John H. McDowell who first introduced me to F,R, Benson;

to Dr, Roy Bowen and Dr, Charles C, Ritter whose editorial help has been invaluable; and to Dr, John C, Morrow whose helpful suggestions, scholarship, guidance, and humor have provided continuous encouragement.

Finally, I wish to thank my parents without whose moral support, patience and understanding this project could never have been accomplished.

ii VITA

September 29, 1936t.. Born - South Bend, Indiana

1954...... Graduated from Central High School, South Bend, Indiana

1954-1957...t...... Attended Wabash College, Crawfordsville, Indiana

1959...... B.A., The University of Notre Dame, Notre Dame, Indiana

1959-1960.,, ,...... Teacher, Central High School, South Bend, Indiana 1960-1962,,,,,, ,.... Teaching Assistant, English Department, The Catholic University of America, Washington, D,C, 1962...... ,,. M..A., The Catholic University of America, Washington, D.C, 1962-1968...... Teacher, Washington High School, South Bend, Indiana 1968-1971.... ,,,,,,, Teaching Associate, Division of Theatre, The Ohio State University, Columbus, Ohio

FIELDS OF STUDY

Major Field: Theatre

Studies in History of the Theatre and Criticism, Professors John H, McDowell, John C, Morrow Studies in Dramatic Literature. Professor John C, Morrow

Studies in Acting, Professor Roy Bowen Studies in Direction, Professor Charles C, Ritter iii TABLE OF CONTENTS

Page ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS...... 11

VITA...... Ill LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS...... vl

Chapter I. THE THEATRE IN LONDON PRIOR TO I89O... 1 The Major and Minor Playhouses and the The Audience The State of the Theatre The Rise of the Actor-Manager Tradition Shakespearean Revival The Purposes and Format of the Study A Biographical Sketch of

II. BENSON'S LONDON APPEARANCES .... 4-5 The Theatre In London During the 1890's I A General Statement The Theatre's Return to Respecta­ bility Prominent Actor-Managers In London During the Nineties The Coming of Benson's Call to the Theatre Benson's Early Years In London The Season at the (I889-I89O) The Lyceum Season (I900) The Theatre Season (I9OO- 1901) III. BENSON ON TOUR.. 14-2 On Tour With the Bentley Company Benson Enters Management The "Melnlngen System” Iv A Return to Oxford Benson and His Company Life on Tour The Problems of Touring The Bensonian Audience

IV. THE STRATFORD FESTIVAL.,...... 199 The Development of the Festival Idea Benson and the Stratford Festival The "Syndicate" and the American Tour Sir Frank Robert Benson The Road Away from Stratford V . BENSON AND THE BENSONIANS...... 256 Benson's Acting Background The Acting Teacher A Personal Glimpse of Frank Benson The Bensonian Spirit VI. 0 ONGLUSIONS...... 294

APPENDIX • ■ • f ’ , f . • ■ I • • 1 • ' A...... 304

B ...... 314

BIBLIOGRAPHY...... 316 LIST OP ILLUSTRATIONS

Figure Page 1 . Frontispiece: F.R. Benson, I9IO From portrait by Hugh Riviere vii

2 , Frank Benson as Romeo, c, I887,,,..... 27 3 « Frank Benson as , I89O., . 1^5 4 . Frank Benson as , I903«»ti,«. 176

5, Frank Benson as King Henry the Fifth, 1912,.,., 200

VI Figure 1 Frontispiece I Frank Benson, I9IO From portrait by Hugh Riviere vii CHAPTER I THE THEATRE IN LONDON PRIOR TO I89O

After the Shakespearean Tercentenary performance of on May 2, I9I6 , a rather dusty, dishev­ eled actor dressed in the bloody of Julius

Caesar, was knighted by King George V. In the Royal Room behind the Royal Box of London's Drury Lane Theatre, Prank Robert Benson received what was perhaps the most important honor of his career. How had this man come to this great honor? What events had shaped his destiny so that he would be knighted by the King in such an unorthodox manner? In order to answer these questions, it will be necessary to understand that part of the history of the late nineteenth-century

English theatre that relates to the formation of the traditions, concepts, and ideals that influenced and became an integral part of this man's artistic philo­ sophy. In order to understand Benson, an actor-manager devoted to the production of Shakespeare's plays, it is necessary to understand, generally, the conditions

1. 2. that existed in the English theatre of the nineteenth centuryI the development of the actor-manager tradition, and the attitudes concerning Shakespearean revival as they evolved during that century.

The Manor and Minor Playhouses and the Drama

The nineteenth-century English theatre was a theatre in flux. The conditions and problems of the theatre of

1800 were completely different from the conditions and problems of I900, Watson characterizes the early years of the nineteenth century (1800-18^-3) as a period of growth, "Growth was the great fact of the age: the 1 growing pains might well be excused," There was a growth in the confusion created by the monopoly of the patent , the rise of the so-called "minor" theatres, and the lack of clarity concerning the types of entertainment these two distinctly different kinds of theatres were to present. There was a growth in the population of the city of London and a subsequent rise in the economic stability of this expanded population as a result of the Industrial Revolution, This new and monied population, living in newly democratic times, sought varying kinds of entertainment, thereby changing the composition of theatrical audiences. New demands for entertainment also influenced the growth of the physical theatre and the development of the star system. creating financial problems for the actor-manager- producers.

From the time of the Restoration in 1660, Drury

Lane and , the patent or "major" playhouses, enjoyed the exclusive privilege of presenting what became known as "legitimate" drama. The monopoly caused by the patent legislation of 1660 and the reinforcing Liscensing Act of 1737 restricted all other theatres, excepting the Haymarket in summer months, from presenting "legitimate" drama. These theatres became known as the "minor" theatres. In 1800 the "legitimate" drama meant any form of spoken dialogue; whereas the "illigiti- mate" drama was entertainment in which nothing could be said without musical accompaniment," such various entertainments as melodramas, farces, burlettas, comic operas, burlesques, and extravaganzas,^ As a result of the Licensing Act of 1737» the two patent houses, as well as the Haymarket Theatre in the summer months, were guaranteed by lav/ that only they could produce the legitimate drama. All of the other theatres were restricted to the presentation of illegitimate drama. Enforcement of the law, however, depended on the interpretation given to it by the Lord Chamberlain. As more liberally inclined men came to hold the post of Lord Chamberlain, this interpretation became broader in scope. As a result. 4.

the minor theatres were able to infringe upon the type

of plays that originally were in the domain of the patents by the simple process of adding some musical accompani­ ment and changing the title. Such action allowed the minor theatres nominally to stay within the limits of

the law.

Over the years, the liberal interpretations of the Licensing Act of 1737 caused much confusion in attempting to identify the distinctions between the major and minor playhouses. If the minors stole the fare usually offered by the majors, the majors liberally borrowed the fare of the minor theatres, presenting spectacles, ballets, animal shows, burlesques, and acrobats as afterpieces and melodramas in the place of legitimate ,^ The worst part of the pilfering done by the major theatres was that while the patentees could prosecute the minors for infringing on their rights, the minors had no legal recourse for the wrongdoings of the majors, Watson claims that "no fact helped the minors more than this injustice in win­ ning the sympathy of the populace and of the critics,^

When John Phillip Kemble, in 1811, introduced an eques­ trian show at Drury Lane, The Dramatic Censor cried that

"this evening should bo considered as a black epoch forever!"^ This reaction proteste I the introduction of 5o an illegitimate form of entertainment into a patent house 0

The vagueness of the distinction between the types of entertainment presented at the major and minor theatres continued to grow during the first thirty years of the nineteenth centuryo By I832 Douglas Jerrold, appearing before the Select Committee appointed by

Parliament in I832 to report on the state of drama, defined legitimate drama as occurring "when the interest of the piece is mental rather than physical,"^ A further indication of the confusion between the major and minor theatres v/as found in The Theatrical Observer of May 26, I83I: At the theatre royal, Drury Lane we have Timour the Tartar and the horses, at the theatre royal. Covent Garden, we have the Life and Death of Buonaparte, as a mere spectacle accompanied by every kind of catch-shilling gee-gaw, and some horses; while, on the other hand, we find at Sadler's Wells, . Katherine and Petruchio; at the Surrey, Richard III, several other of Shakespeare's plays and Cumberland's Jew, with Ellison; and finally, at the new City Theatre in Milton Street (alais Grub) ; Shylock, Mr, Keanîîl^

In I807 there were ten theatres giving performances during the winter, and one open only in the summer. In 1861 there were twenty-two theatres in constant operation. In I87O there were thirty,^ 6.

Since, in 1807* the only patent theatres were Covent Garden and Drury Lane in the winter and the Haymarket

Theatre in the summer, that left eight minor theatres in existence in 1807, The growth in the number of theatres can largely be attributed to the growth in the population of London, From a population in 1800 of slightly over a million, London, by the beginning of

Victoria’s reign in 1837* had grown to almost two million inhabitants. By the middle of the century London’s population was nearly three million strong.

The Audience

The Industrial Revolution in , and the paral­

lel rise of democracy in England, meant that as the lower classes became more affluent, more and more of them turned to the theatre as a place of entertainment. The theatres seemed to invite the masses as never before, and the masses had made the theatres almost exclusively their own. The aristocracy and the intelligencia slowly withdrew from the theatre as the masses advanced.

The common cry of the managers of the period was that throughout the first half of the century only the pits and the galleries, the habitats of the lower classes, were filled, while the boxes, usually inhabited by the aristocracy, remained empty. The aristocracy could rarely be persuaded to attend the theatre.

Generally speaking, the new audience of this period was a vulgar and unruly mob, Nicoll relates: ,,,,A11 contemporaries are agreed on one thing; the spectators in the larger theatres during the first decades of the century were often licentious and debased, while those in the minor playhouses were vulgar, unruly, and physically obnoxious.

He goes on to quote The Theatrical Repertory; or. Weekly

Rosciad for Monday, December 28, 1801, describing a disturbance which took place at a Covent Garden perfor­ mance of Richard III ;

A ruffian in the Two Shilling Gallery threw a quart bottle upon the Stage, which fell so near Mr, Betterton as to strike the hat which he held in his hand, but fortunately did no injury either to that gentleman or any of the other performers,

The type of behavior described above hastened the decline in attendance of the aristocracy. As the un­ educated masses became the dominant part of the audience, managers found that the audience's tastes also declined. The lower classes were not seeking the poetical dis­ courses on morals or manners found in the drama. They sought, instead, action, romance, color, and escape from the drabness of their industrially oriented lives.

This lowering of tastes caused by the cruder and coarser audience also helped to drive the more discriminating 8. theatre-goer away from the theatre. The managers had no choice but to cater to the dominant portion oi their audience. In their struggle for survival, these managers produced pantomime, spectacle, and melodrama.

The power of this nev/ audience was demonstrated by the 0, P, riots in 1809# Watson refers to them as 11 the "triumph of democracy," These riots began at the reopening of Covent Garden under the management of

John Phillip Kemble, These disturbances protesting an increase in ticket prices, were organized by a band of "Pittites" known as the 0, P.'s from their call for Ah, "old prices," The riots were a fight for the right of theatrical entertainment at a low price and for the righ-t-of a voice in the management of the theatres. They lasted for sixty-one nights, and resulted in the restoration of former prices. They were a fierce expres­ sion of the new theatrical democracy and of a new in­ fluence upon the drama,

The new audience became generally boisterous and noisy, and many an act was performed in virtual dumb- show. As the demeanor of the audience deteriorated, the solicitations by prostitutes increased. Instead of opposing it, manag'.a:s made use of this traffic to fill their boxes. They encouraged these solicitations by giving out "orders", or passes, so as to attract gentlemen to the box office, "So excessive was this abuse that all observers spoke of it with the utmost astonishment 1 f\ and disgust," Even as late as 1844, The Theatrical Journal described the theatres as "great public brothels", remarking that "surely no man would be mad enough to say the saloons of our theatres are not the very hot- 17 beds of vice." ' Although everyone denounced such practices publicly, few managers had the courage to combat such practices for fear that there would be losses at the box office. The clergy undoubtedly denounced the practices of the prostitutes and helped reinforce the long prevailing attitude that the theatre was immoral.

Along with those conditions already mentioned, the fashionable audiences were not attracted to the theatres for other reasons. It had become the vogue for the social elite to attend the performances of the Italian opera at the King's Theatre, The managers of the patents attempted to counter the competition by producing operas themselves, but they were never successful in persuading the scions of fashion to return to their patronage of the theatre. Severely felt also was a lack of royal patronage at the patent theatres. These theatres were forced to operate without the aura of respectability that only royalty could bestow. It was not until 10.

invited Charles Kean to stage a long series of theatricals at in 1849 that the upper classes began to return to the theatre, Watson says; "the importance of this patronage cannot, I believe, be overestimated in its effect upon audiences. From this time on, the

upper classes showed a far greater interest in the stage 18 than hitherto."

The State of the Theatre

The increase in the number of people who attended the theatre, class distinctions aside, influenced the increase in the size of the theatres themselves. When Covent Garden was rebuilt in 1792 and Drury Lane in 1?9^» both houses were doubled in size, Drury Lane seating as 19 many as 3oll persons. ^ Contemporary critics, according to Watson, believed the increase in the size of these two theatres to be one of the most injurious of the evil-working 20 influences upon the drama. It was especially harmful because only at these two theatres could the spoken drama be presented before 1843. With the increase in the size of the auditoriums, all the subtleties of acting disappeared, as the were forced to project both voice and action to the upper galleries. As a result, the accessories of music and spectacle, and later of horsemanship, aquatics, and menageries, were indispensable to keep 11.

21 theatres from utter failure, Alec Clunes described the theatre cf the early nineteenth century as "gran­

diose" : 'Grandiose' is the key word at the turn cf the century. It is inherent in the characters cf Siddcns and Kemble and becomes even mere apparent as they settle into their mould. And the characteristic is sadly and mon­ strously aggravated when the old intimate theatres are rebuilt, 'A wilderness cf a place' said Mrs, Siddcns cf the 1?94 Drury Lane in which the original accomodation cf two thousand people had been increased to thirty-six hundred,.Ccvent Garden, rebuilt in 1806 after fire, accomodated little short cf three thousand. In these two huge theatres, cavernous and ill-lit, the actors struggled to magnify their effects to overcome the constant complaints that they could neither be seen nor heard properly-- and in an attempt to gain authority over a new audience increasingly given to tumult and disorder. This led to a concentration on pageantry and spectacle plays with a minimum af simple dialogue and a maximum of violent action supported by all the resources of sensationalism, glittering and spectacular scenic effects. Grandiose staging, grandiose acting, and the hollow ring of grandiosity in the new p l a y s . 22

Another factor that influenced the position of the theatre in the early years of the nineteenth century was the great financial burden placed upon the managers by the ever increasing demand for spectacle. The long- run policy had not been established and the tradition of nightly or almost nightly change-of-bill meant that a great masiy plays had to be prepared during a season. 12,

Added to this was the expense of maintaining multiple companies— separate companies for the presentation of tragedy, comedy, ballet, and opera. Finally, the rent of the theatre, the cost of costumes and scenery, and the salaries of the stars and players were overpowering.

The nightly overhead of the patent theatres averaged as much as three hundred pounds.The disappearance of the subtleties of acting has already been mentioned, in relation to the size increase of the auditoriums. What has not been mentioned is the development of the star system. The audience came not so much to see the as the star, Edmund Kean as or Charles Kemble as were the attractions rather than the plays themselves. Ensemble acting was practically unknown and all of the subordinate roles were sacrificed to the glory of the star. Stars, especially the popular ones, were undoubtedly expensive and added to the costs of the managers.

The years 1800 to 18^3 were years of growth. The city of London more than doubled its population, creating a new audience which was "rowdy, illmannered, and vociferous," who "clamoured for freaks and acrobats, and OL for a programme of six or even eight attractions." The new audience caused the increase in size of the theatre auditoriums, and with this development, an increase in 13. the cost of producing the kind of entertainments the audiences desired. These years also marked the growth in the confusion surrounding the monopoly of the patent theatres and the rise of the minor theatres and their right to the liscensed and unliscensed drama. These were years of little theatrical freedom because of legal restriction. In 1843 the Theatre Regulating Act, granting freedom of the theatres, was passed. The monopoly of the patent houses was removed and there was no longer any need for a distinction between legitimate and illegitimate drama.

After the passage of the new law, many people assumed that a rapid change would take place in the theatre and that many new theatre buildings would be erected. The period between 1843 and I860 became instead one of re-evaluation and recovery. No new theatres were built in London between 1845 and 1866,^^ No marvels of dramatic art appeared on the London stage during the decade immediately following the passage of the new law,^^ The patent theatres, if they had the good fortune to be open at all, were abandoned to spectacles, animals, and music. According to Watson, "only the Haymarket, during the first years of the free stage, gave any reassuring promise, The years 14, prior to 1843 were "a heritage of eighteenth-century striving; the Theatre Regulation Act belongs to the 28 period which carries us on to our own days,"

Besides the passage of the Theatre Regulation Act, there were several movements in the first half-century which proved to be the origin of later tendencies. The eighteenth century had inaugurated the correct costuming and setting of historical plays, but archaeology did not take full possession of the theatre until the days of Macready and Kean, Of these men, Nicoll says: These actor-managers, although they worked in gas-light and in ignorance, had the ideals which resulted in the better-known efforts of Irving and Tree, Dramatically, the age produced, out of the welter of melodrama, the origins of that form which, adopted and perfected by Tom Robert­ son, marked the beginnings of the modern realistic movement. Technically, it gave scene painters and machinists who proved to be the masters of those later years. In re­ gard to material arrangements, it introduced stalls and reserved seats and a dozen other little theatrical conveniences which are familiar in the playhouses of today,

With the restoration of Royal patronage in 1849, "a brighter day had dawned,The tide of aristocratic favor had once again turned toward the drama. This new interest was sparing at first, but, as a result of the impetus given it by the Robertsonian school of 1865, by

I87O it had become constant. No one cause was responsible 15.

for this change. Watson lists several: The most important inducements were: Macready's scholarly and artistic standards, and his suppression of vice; Victoria's enthusiastic patronage; Kean's sumptuous staging; and, perhaps greatest of all, the legal recognition of small theatres, making possible the work of Kean at the Princess's, of Vestris and Mathews at the Lyc-^um, and of Robertsog. and the Bancrofts at the Prince of Wales's.-'l

Three aspects of the mid-nineteenth-century theatre that had their effect on the work of Frank Benson must be surveyed briefly: the rise of the actor-manager, Shakespearean revival, and the increasing dedication to historical authenticity and spectacularisni in the production of Shakespeare,

The Rise of the Actor-Manager Tradition

The actor-manager tradition had its roots in the eighteenth-century theatre of . During the middle third of that century, Garrick was a dominant force in the English theatre. In 1?^7 he became joint manager of Drury Lane, a position he held until his retirement in 17?6, His contributions to the theatie were of a sweeping and beneficial character. He removed the audience from the stage, gave a finish and elegance to the art of acting, not only in his own performances, but in the total effectiveness of his company, and restored

Shakespeare, in somewhat crude versions authored by 16.

himself or Nahum Tate, among others, to a "veneration" from which he had fallen during the days of pseudo- classical thinking.^^ John Phillip Kemble followed the tradition of Garrick when he took over the Drury Lane as acting manager in 1?88, In 1802, tired of coping with the inadequacies of Richard Brinsley Sheridan as manager, he moved to Covent Garden where he remained until his retirement in 1817. It was not until the management of William Charles Macready, however, that the position of the actor-manager took on the scope that became an integral part of its tradition as this position was understood at the time of Benson.

Macready's two stints at management— Covent

Garden from 1837 to I839 and Drury Lane from 1841 to 1843— came during the monopoly period, and the largeness of the auditoriums caused him financial difficulties.

Despite the problems and difficulties that he encoun­ tered, Watson says that he could have boasted that he had taken the first step toward "restoring the dramatic art of England from its lowest decline to a place of respect and popularity among thoughtful men."^^ A specific look at his contributions is necessary at this point. 17.

Abraham Bassett credits Macready with restoring the original texts of Shakespeare and eliminating the adulterations and interpolations that beset the Shakespearean texts, in some cases, for one-hundred fifty years, Bassett also credits Macready with estab­

lishing Shakespeare on the stage through the art of careful production which attracted audiences to the theatre, proving Shakespearean plays could be more lucra­ tive than any other type of play, Bassett credits

Macready further with advancing the trend toward his­ torical accuracy, placing emphasis on ensemble acting, emphasizing the unity of production, stressing the importance of adequate rehearsals, and innovating methods in staging such as limelight and moving dioramas, Macready was also credited with helping to make the theatre a place decent people could feel free to attend without embarrassment. This he accomplished by excluding the prostitutes, installing stalls in the pit, and numbering

„all seats in the house, lastly, Bassett calls him the first of the modern directors,^

Macready gave up management in 1843, disappointed

in his efforts to achieve a financially stable theatre of high quality. An actor who had been Macready's

principal support since I837, , took over an out of the way, run down theatre— Sadler's Wells— and 18. made it the home of poetic drama between 1844 and 1862, This theatre, once a notorious home for thieves and more recently the home of the darkest and most watery melo­ , was erected into a temple to the dramatic m u s e , After the abolition of the monopoly of the patents, Sadler's Wells came to the front with the pres­ entation of legitimate drama, which had previously been the sole property of these patent theatres. This theatre, remote from London's theatrical center, became the home of the art-loving and appreciative audience Phelps drew to it. No other theatre in London, except perhaps the

Haymarket, enjoyed a period of unbroken prosperity for so long a time,3^

The undisputed contribution of Phelps, according to Watson, was his development into an educational force in the theatre. Many of the greatest plays in the English language were revived during the eighteen years of Phelps' management at the Sadler's Wells, much to the delight of the "uncouth denizens" of this almost suburban 37 quarter,^' Phelps produced no less than thirty-four of

Shakespeare's plays, all the First Folio plays with the exception of Henry VI. , Richard II. and Titus Andronicuso3^ In addition to Shakespeare, he revived plays by such authors as Massinger, Webster,

Beaumont and Fletcher, and Otway, Phelps found the 19. thirst in the neighborhood of the theatre for a better vintage of play so great that only twice did he attempt modern melodramatic productions. The old stock drama seemed to satisfy his patrons. His following soon spread beyond the limits of the neighborhood, and included visitors from all parts of the city.^^

When viewed in historical perspective, Phelps' management made no distinct contribution to . His revivals lacked the magnificance and scholarly exactness of Macready's and Charles Kean's mountings. He was primarily satisfied with the older schools of acting and management, and was regarded by his contem­ poraries as the "embodiment of all that was traditional kn and 'respectable' in drama,"

The management of Phelps gave precedence for the work of Benson, His stage became an institution of social betterment and a marvelous proof of the power of great drama to appeal to the simple, everyday human understanding, Benson, in later years, was to prove much the same thing.

Another actor-manager who was to establish the prominence of what had once been a minor theatre was Charles Kean at the Princess Theatre, His management at this theatre lasted from I85O to 18591 and his work is 20. significant for several reasons. Budge Threlkeld, in his study of the management of Kean at the Princess Theatre, gives Kean credit for: instituting the long run policy, a trend still popular today; considering the setting of the plays he produced in terms of environment; and the employment of the box set for interior scenes. From the examination of prompt books, Threlkeld deduces that illusion was heightened through the regular use of lighting and sound effects. In general, Kean maintained a level of production unequalled prior to his time. Threlkeld considers Kean the inspiration for the celebrated Duke of Saxe-Meiningan and his success with the minutely directed crowd scene which later gave him great acclaim. Threlkeld concludes that it was Kean v/ho pioneered in the area of these directorial concepts thereby making himself one of the first, if not the first, English stage directors in the modern sense of the term. His contributions in elevating the standards of theatrical production and in reviving an enthusiasm for the national Lz drama of Shakespeare cannot go unnoticed. In addition to all of the above, Watson credits Kean with attracting the refined classes to the theatre, and "worthily main- li'i taining royal favor." 21.

Another actor-manager that must be considered is , who managed the Lyceum Theatre from 1879 until the end of the I9OI-I902 season. Irving came to the Lyceum as manager after a long career as an actor. His preparation for a career on the stage had been a sketchy one. There had been very little formal education. Born as John Henry Brodribb, he attended school in Halestown, and afterwards enrolled in the City Commercial School in London for two years. When he was twelve years old his formal schooling came to an end. Some of his biographers have suggested that he felt the social disadvantage of his limited education; Bram Stoker said, "All College men were naturally privileged persons with him," Feelings of educational deficiency did not hamper Irving's confidence in his theatrical abilities. He is quoted as saying, "I may not know all Shakespeare, but of any play of his which I present on the stage I know more than 4 4 any man in England,"

The era of Irving management at the Lyceum opened with Hamlet and closed with the Merchant of Venice, but only twelve of the thirty-seven full-length plays pro­ duced by Irving while manager of the Lyceum were by Shakespeare, One of the most important decisions of Irving's managerial career was his decision in I878 to engage as the leading actress of his company. She 22. remained a regular member of the Lyceum company until the I9OI-I902 season. Other aspects of his management that were important included his use of costume and scenery based on archeologically accurate designs. His devotion to detail in his productions was, according to Brereton, responsible for his success as a manager.

Byron Schaffer, in his discussion of Irving's practices, states that Irving was a man dependent upon the immediate favorable response of the audience. This response proved for Irving to be a stimulus and a guide whose authority was unquestioned. Schaffer says further that Irving acquiesced to popular taste time and again. The audiences demanded spectacle and authenticity and Irving supplied these needs in order to satisfy the tastes of the audience. Irving, according to Schaffer, did not manifest in his methods of stage management a difference of kind, but rather of degree. He developed few innovations for his audience because they would not anticipate them. Irving's success lay in his ability to polish those techniques that could be appreciated without further study. Emphasis upon the need for harmony and unison between the disparate parts of a production guided Irving's efforts as a manager.

Every attempt was made to integrate each detail of presentation so that no single element would distract 23. from the total effectiveness of the whole. This harmony would include the elements of music, lighting, scenic effects, costume and the ensemble as well. This harmony could only be achieved through the efforts of one single authority to reinforce the meaning of the script. Illusion was his aim, but idealized illusion was the goal of Irving's management. According to Schaffer, Irving saw truth as things as they should be, while the real was things as they were in life. The former was ideal and should be sought out, the latter was mundane and ought to be avoided,

Shakespearean Revival

Shortly after the death of Shakespeare in 1616, the changing and adapting of his texts began. Just as he had borrowed his plots from other sources, his plays were used as the basis for adaptation. In this manner, Taming of the Shrew became Saunv the Scot courtesy of John Lacy in 1667; John Dryden revised and simplified and called it All for Love; and Nahum Tate did an adaptation of King Lear in which he excised the Fool, wrote in a romance between Edgar and Cordelia, and changed the tragic ending to a happy one. These revised versions of Shakespeare were performed constantly throughout the latter part of the seventeenth and the eighteenth centuries, David Garrick and John 24.

Phillip Kemble are only two of the many producers who presented this "doctored" Shakespeare. William Charles Macready began, during the years of his management, to restore the original texts of the Bard’s plays. The adulterations and interpolations that had become part of these plays at the hands of the "improvers" of Shake­ speare began, at last, to disappear. In King Lear, for example, the interpolated love scenes were removed and the Fool restored. As noted previously, Samuel Phelps began the most complete series of Shakespearean revivals in 1844. Macready had produced seventeen of Shakespeare's plays; Phelps produced thirty-four. One of these pro­ ductions, A Midsummer Night's Dream, provides an excellent example of the way Phelps treated Shakespeare, He cut only 330 lines out of a total of 2,171 lines, Margo Voltz suggests that these omissions could be made without any change in the structure of the play. She indicates that the type of omissions included indelicate references, lines that repeated what had been said earlier, lines that were inappropriate because they did not fit into the business or costume plot of the production, or lines that did not fit the physical descriptions of the actors 48 playing specific characters. There is no question that the Shakespeare Phelps presented was generally closer to the original text than most of what had gone before. 25.

excluding the Shakespeare presented by Macready. What makes him truly remarkable as a Shakespearean revivalist is that he enjoyed great success with his revivals and produced so many of the Shakespearean plays. Hudson

remarks about Phelps ; As a producer his great merit was that he 'put over' Shakespeare at a time when this 'spelt ruin', not as Edmund Kean and Macready had done by extracting from his plays all their inherent melodrama, but actually by stressing their poetry. Phelps did not disdain the assistance of the scene-painter and the stage machinist who were then beginning to acquire an unprece­ dented importance in the partnership of the theatre. His 'productions' were presented with a certain amount of splendour, as much possibly as his means would run to, though by no means with the lavishness of Charles Kean's Shakespeare 'r e v i v a l s ' .^9

"If there was any notable advance in the theatre of the 'fifties it was in the direction of scenic mag­ nificence."^^ This advance became an integral part in the work of Charles Kean and was carried to the height of sophistication by Henry Irving. Because of their preoccupation with "scenic magnificence", Kean and Irving showed little concern for textual purity in their productions of Shakespeare. Following in the footsteps of Macready, who consistently sought historical accuracy in costumes and scenery, Kean and Irving took his precepts to an even greater extreme. Kean bcjcame devoted 26. to E/, b:i 1 variant.sm. He developed "historical accuracy" as a production concept further than any previous English producer. Beginning with his 1853 production of , he provided his audiences with printed lists of the authorities he had consulted in his quest for authenticity. He considered his election in 1857 to the Society of Antiquaries as one of his greatest honors, Alec Clunes refers to Kean and his practice in the following manner: Charles Kean's productions of Shakespeare at the Princess's Theatre from 1853 to 1859 —— suffered from what Peter Ustinov, speaking of similar vulgarities in our own day, has aptly diagnosed as Veneer Disease, Kean sought to impress as a scholar 'to convey information to the general public through the medium of refined amusement,' His audience, like captive school children, were bombarded with scholarship; his interminable programme-no tes were even heavier than his scenery. Correctness, as he saw it, was all. Unfortunately, the standards by which he sat­ isfied himself were more archeo-logical than logical. In eight years, ten plays received massive maltreatment, their texts cut to the bone to permit time for the erection and dismant­ ling of 'an abundance of edifices restored from contemporaneous buildings^ in the absence of absolute vestiges,

Irving's work furthered the trend toward pictorial realism, illusionistic as it may be. Although he was never the stickler for accuracy that Kean and been, Irving sometimes employed archeologists to aid him.

Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema, for instance, designed the 2 7 .

Figure 2 Frank Benson as Romeo, c, I887 28. costumes and scenery for Cvmbeline in I896, His produc­ tions of Shakespearean plays were done in much the same manner as Kean, Clunes says: Shakespeare's text was maltreated to permit sumptuous scenery. Max Beerhohm praises Irving as the first man to give Shakespeare'a setting that should match the pleasure of the eye with the pleasure of the ear.,..Irving may have sometimes overdone it ; but he always overdid it beautifully.'52

From the above, it can be seen that, excluding Phelps, textual purity in Shakespearean production v/as the ex­ ception rather than the rule.

The Purposes and Format of the Study

By briefly considering in general terms the theatrical background of nineteenth-century England, the development of the actor-manager tradition, and the attitudes concerning Shakespearean revival, the exclusion of many other areas of the history of this period has been necessary. This introductory material has been selected because of its pertinence to the subject and purpose of this study. An examination of this purpose, the study's methodology, and its goals is called for at this time.

The primary purpose of this dissertation is to evaluate Sir Frank Robert Benson's contributions to English theatrical history of the late nineteenth 29. century and the early twentieth century. More specifically, the period of time involved begins with his birth in 1858 and ends with his knighthood in 1916. Although he continued to live for some thirty-three years after this time, his major contributions were made during his dominant years— 18?9 to I9I6 ,

The pursuit of this study was undertaken after it became evident that Benson was a neglected personality in English theatrical history, Allardyce Nicoll mentions him only in connection with playwright .

In other books he has been accorded a line or two in connection with serving his apprenticeship with Irving or as a devotee of Shakespearean revival. While pursuing a prompt book study under the direction of Dr. John McDowell, this author encountered several of Benson*s prompt books in the Ohio State University Theatre

Collection, but, with the exception of one production of Julius Caesar, they were essentially barren. In a further search for information, J.C, Trewin's affectionate biography Benson and the Bensonians was discovered. Upon reading this sprawling, somewhat disjointed book, Benson's colorful casualness and somewhat unorthodox approach to life proved fascinating to the author. Even more intriguing were his accomplishments and contributions to English theatrical history. Further research while on 30. a seminar in England, helped to formulate the premise of this dissertation— setting into historical perspective the creative efforts of this man and subsequently evalu­ ating his contributions.

There are three secondary purposes of this study: to show (1) that his repeated tours through the provinces of England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales helped to popularize the works of Shakespeare, to which he was devoted, among the common people of provincial Great

Britain; (2) that his thirty-year career as director of the Shakespeare Memorial Theatre at Stratford-Upon-Avon was instrumental in developing the Festival from a one-week celebration in 1886 to the nine-month celebration it has become today; and (3) that he contributed many first-rate actors and actresses to the English theatre through the educative process of providing the fledgling an opportunity to serve an apprenticeship in the labora­ tory of the theatre and by endowing them with a love for the discipline of the stage.

Materials for the discussion come from the two books written by Benson, his auto-biography, Mv Memoirs, and a short, terse treatise on acting, I Want to go On the Staee: and his wife's memoirs, Mainlv Players.

Newspaper reviews of his productions, periodical articles 31. of the period, articles and books by his contemporaries, scattered and incomplete papers and records of his com­ pany as they exist in the collections of various libraries and museums, and the previously mentioned, incomplete prompt books are the only other available primary sources of material on Benson. Trewin's books about Stratford-Upon-Avon and the Memorial Theatre are good secondary sources about his work. Biographies of his contemporaries and secondary sources relating to the period have been used to add to whatever primary material concerning the period has been available.

Benson's work will be evaluated by comparing what he and his wife have said about it with the reactions of contemporary critics and members of his audience. What he has said about himself will be placed in juxtaposition with what others have said about him and then judgments leading to the conclusions will be made. Whenever it is possible, existing records of his company will be used to distinguish truth from the illusion of truth. (Both Benson's and Lady Benson's memoirs were written several years after their dominant period.)

The first chapter of the study is devoted to a general survey of the English theatre delineating the development of conditions existing in the theatres. 32. the rise of spectaoularism, the rise of Shakespearean revival, and the evolution of ihe actor-manager tradition. The last portion of the chapter is concerned with a brief biographical sketch of Benson’s life.

Chapter II is concerned with Benson’s attempts to become a rejuvenating force in the theatre of London, He took Irving’s invitation to reform the London stage with a company of university trained, intellectually agile minds as a command and this command became his guiding force. The forces that worked against his achieving the unqualified London success he dreamed of are con­ sidered, His philosophy of production is shown as it evolved during his three main attempts to become a majo} actor-manager in London,

Chapter III is devoted to the consideration of Benson on tour. It treats his tours of the provinces in general terms throughout his years of dominance. His success at building a rapport with the common English laboring man of the province, and,therefore, an audience for his touring productions is considered, as well as his manner of presentation, the scope of his touring, and the problems faced by an actor on tour,

Chaptt>r IV considers the Benson association with the Shakespeare Memorial. Theatre, After a brief history 33. of that Festival, the years at Stratford are treated in the light of the building and strengthening of the Memorial celebration, Benson's relationship with the people of

Stratford, his production of most of Shakespeare's work, and his tour of North America are considered insofar as they relate to the goals of the Festival and of Benson,

Chapter V concerns the Bensonians, a name lovingly taken by those actors who served their apprenticeship in his company. Many of these men and women went on to make marked contributions to the theatre, both at home and abroad, after leaving his aegis. Also included is a treatment of the relationship between Benson and these people, his teaching techniques, and his educational philosophy.

Chapter VI summarizes the various areas of the study. Conclusions are then made and further areas of study indicated.

The first of two Appendices to this study is comprised of a list of the productions done at the Shakespeare-Memorial Theatre in Stratford-Upon-Avon during Benson's thirty-year tenure as director of that

Festival, Special indication is given to the Birthday Play, the annual production commemorating Shakespeare's 34. birth. The second is a list of Bensonians active in

London in 1913.

A Biographical Sketch of Frank Benson

Frank Robert Benson was born November 4, 1858, to William Benson and Elizabeth Soulsby Smith Benson at

Tunbridge Wells in Kent. He was the fourth child of six— the third son. Family legend, according to the memoirs, traced the Benson family back to the Vikings. The family had a "cousinly" claim to the lines of Stewart, Bruce, Cromwell, Gordon, Lloyd, Wilson, Rathbone ( was a distant cousin), Forster, Dochray, and Braithwaite.

William Benson was a country squire. After graduating from Cambridge, he became a barrister. Because of early ill health, he ceased legal practice and undertook the duties of landowner and magistrate.

In I867 Frank entered Larch's Preparatory School at , and from there attended Winchester College which he entered at the age of twelve. In I878 he entered Oxford— New College. While at Winchester, he absorbed the school's Hellenic insistence on physical fitness and in his later years there he became enamoured of Beethoven and Greek poetry, particularly Homer. Here also he began to feel and interpret Shakespeare— at first in women's roles such as Ophelia, Rosalind, and— on a gala night with 35. the public admitted— Constance, It was reported that one day while rehearsing Constance's last strangled cry, he so frightened a housemaid that she nearly rolled down the stairs.

At Oxford Frank excelled in athletics, particularly track and lawn tennis. In 1880 he played Clytemnestra in the Agamemnon of Aeschylus done in the original tongue, Agamemnon was a smashing success and toured to Winchester,

Eton, Harrow, and three performances in London, The performances in London were well attended by the leading actors of the English theatre, among them Ellen Terry and Henry Irving, Irving and Terry invited Benson and his friend G, Lawrence who had played Cassandra to visit them backstage at the Lyceum where The Corsican Brothers was playing. It is said that at this time Benson realized what his profession must be. This realization was further solidified when Ellen Terry invited both him and Lawrence to "Come and enlist under our banner, and help us in the great work,"^^ When Benson informed his parents of his desire to enter the theatre, they said that they would rather he did something else, but that since he had chosen the stage, they would help him as though it had been their own choice. 36.

In 1881, after leaving Oxford, Benson produced, directed, and starred in a production of Romeo and Juliet. The production was beautifully staged, but it was obvious to those Londoners v/ho attended it that Benson had been too busy with every other aspect of the production to do very much with Romeo. Beginning in I883, Benson began to work in earnest at preparing himself for the stage. He took up boxing, fencing, wrestling, single stick, elocution, and ballet, Henry Irving Benson to appear in a production of Romeo and Juliet— this time as the County Paris— at the Lyceum, The year was I883. Irving and Terry helped him with his role, but when it was reviewed upon opening, his debut was merely acknowledged without critical comment.

Advised to get some experience under his belt, Benson toured the provinces for the next year with Walter

Bentley's Dramatic Company, Benson fared badly with the critics. When Bentley skipped off to with the current receipts, Benson wired his father for money to pay off the outstanding debts of the organization and thereby took over control of the company. In 1885 his company performed Macbeth at Leamington Spa as an audition for the position of producer of the Stratford

Festival, The performance was catastrophic--the curtain came down at the wrong time, an actor fell through a 37. trap, and Benson, playing the title role, blanked in his lines— but, nevertheless, he was invited to Stratford for the festival of April, 1886, Thus began an association which was to continue for the next thirty years.

The 1886 Festival opened with Hamlet. Benson of course in the title role. The production was well received, as was Benson's Hamlet, The following July he married Constance Featherstonehaugh, a young actress in his company,

Benson continued to tour the provinces over the next two years with his Shakespearean productions and each Spring presented the program of plays for the Stratford Festival, In I889 he opened a production for the first time in London, He produced A Midsummer Night's Dream at the Old Globe Theatre, It was quite a lavish and imaginative production and was very well received for the most part. For no explainable reason, he suddenly changed the bill to The Tamin^^0P the Shrew and his performance, mai-ked with lively antics, as well as the performance of Mrs, Benson as a shrill voiced Kate were panned unmercifully. He then switched the bill to Hamlet which was also received with great distaste. Thus,

Benson's first attempt to conquer London, as did all subsequent attempts, failed miserably. 38.

The following years were marked with his tours of the provinces and his appearances at the Stratford Festival. His success at Stratford was due to a large extent, to his new Festival production each year. He mounted pro­ ductions not often seen and therefore became immensely popular. He then incorporated these productions into his repertoire and toured them during the following year. Of course, with each new production he also added to his stock of scenery and costumes. A fire at the Theatre Royal in Mewcastle-on-Tyne on November 24, 1899, destroyed everything— his extensive collection of costumes and scenery, prompt books, and other theatrical materials valued at over four thousand pounds.

In 1900 he again appeared in London— twice. The first time, in February, he appeared at the Lyceum. He played eight productions in repertory and was accorded a colossal financial failure. He tried to crack the London

jinx again in December of that year playing at the Comedy Theatre, During this run he alternated with a German company, playing Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday evenings and Saturday afternoons. Another disaster.

He made history at Stratford during the I90I Festival by presenting a "Week of Kings"— King John;

Richard II ; Henry IV. part 2 ; : Henry VI. part 2 ; 39. and Richard III, These productions were very well received. The summer of that year also saw the foundation of a formal school for actors. These actor-pupils travelled with the company doing small roles and super spots while taking classes in elocution, fencing, dancing, and rehearsal techniques,

Benson, always aglow with the fire of creativity, had little time or energy to devote to the business aspects of his company. The tours and the Stratford seasons were not always profitable, and existence became rather hand to mouth with the company always on the brink of bankruptcy. In I9IO the Stratford directors took over the management of Benson's company and paid him a regular salary for running it. That season Benson had difficulties with the directors over Mrs, Benson, They considered Mrs, Benson too old to be playing the ingenue roles. She did not share their view, but she left the company.

Under the aegis of the Stratford Company, Benson undertook a North American tour in 1913. This tour was successful in Canada, but Benson was not well received in many cities of the and as a result the tour was not a complete financial success. Upon his return to England, Benson disassociated himself with 40.

Stratford and the company the directors at Stratford had established. In I919 unable to reach an amiable agreement with the Board of Governors, he retired from

Stratford.

The highlight of his career occurred on May 2, 1Ç16, when he was knighted after the Tercentenary performance of Julius Caesar at the Drury Lane Theatre. His remaining years were marked with failure as he tried to establish repertory companies in London and in the provinces. He toured and kept appearing as lesser characters in rather fly-by-night groups and in music halls. For example, he went from Hamlet to the Ghost and from Macbeth to the First Witch. On March 27, 19331 he was struck by a "pedal-cyclist", hit his head on a lamp-post and v/as hospitalized. He never returned to the stage again. He lived in retirement until December 3I, 1939, when he died of senescence and pneumonia.

This chapter has been devoted to a general over­ view of Benson within the context of his historical period. Now a more specific look at Benson's London appearances. FOOTNOTES — CHAPTER I

Ernest Bradlee Watson, Sheridan to Robertson; A Study of the Nineteenth-Centurv London Stage (: Benjamin Blom, Inc., 1926), p. 3»

^Ibid,. pp. 20-21.

^Allardyce Nicoll, A History of Early Nineteenth Century Drama: 1600-1690 (Cambridge: University Press, 1930), Voie 1, p. iXo

^Watson, p. 42.

^Ibid.

^Ibid.. p« 43.

^Quoted by Watson, p. 21,

^The Theatrical Observer. No. 2946, May 26, I83I

^Watson, p. 3»

l°Ibid.

^^Niooll, p. 80

l^Ibid.

^^Watson, p, 9»

l^Ibid.

^^Ibid.. p. 11. 41. 42,

l^Ibid.. p, I'J,

Quoted by Watson, p. 13»

^®I Md., p. 19.

l^ibid.. p. 7. ZOlbid.

^^Ibid. 22 Alec Clunes, The British Theatre (London* Cassell and Company, Limited, 1964), 111,

Macqueen-Pope, "Covent Garden Theatre" in Phyllis Hartnoll, (ed,). The Oxford Companion To The Theatre (London: , 1957), 2nd ed,, p, 165.

^^Lynton Hudson, The English Stage: 1850-1950 (London: George G, Harrap and Co, Ltd,, 1951), P* 16.

^^Nicoll, p. 6,

^^Watson, p, 51. 27lbid.

^®Nicoll, p, 6.

29%bid,

^®Watson, p, 19,

^^Ibid,

^^Ibido. p. 160,

33lbid.. p. 188; 43,

^ Abraham Joseph Bassett, "The Actor-Manager Career of William Charles Maoready." (Unpublished Doctoral dissertation, Columbus: The Ohio State University, I962), pp. ^13-414-, 416-418,

^^Watson, p. 216,

36%bid,

37%bid,. p, 217,

^^Hudson, p. 20,

^^Watson, p, 217,

4^Ibid,. p. 218,

4^Ibid, 42 Budge Threlkeld, "A Study of the Management of Charles Kean at the Princess’s Theatre: 1850-1859•" (Unpublished Doctoral dissertation, Columbus: The Ohio State University, 1955), pp. 178-182,

^^Watson, p. 234, 44 Bram Stoker, Personal Reminiscences of Henry Irving (New York: Macmillan Company, I9O6 ), Vol. I, p. 50.

^^Laurence Irving, Henry Irving: The Actor and His World (New York: Macmillan Company, I952), p, 242, 46 Austin Brereton, The Life of Henry Irving (London: Longmans Green and Co., I9O8), Vol. I, p. 7. 4? 'Byron Smith Schaffer, "The Stage Management of Henry Irving in America 1883-1904," (Unpublished Doctoral dissertation, Columbus: The Ohio State University, I967), pp, 93-110, itft ' Margo Jean Voltz, "Samuel Phelps* Interpretation of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream," (Unpub­ lished Master's thesis, Columbus: The Ohio State University, I968), pp. 66-67.

^^Hudson, p. 21.

5°lbid.

^^Clunes, p. 126,

^^Ibid.. p. 146.

^^Allardyce Niooll, A History of Late Nineteenth Century Drama: 1860-1900 (Cambridge: University Press, 1949), Vol. I, p. 269.

^ S i r Frank Benson, My Memoirs (London: Ernest Benn.Limited, 1930), p. 128. CHAPTER II BENSON'S LONDON APPEARANCES

The Theatre in London During the 1890's: A General Statement

The 1890's were a major turning point in the history of the English theatre. This was a period when "so much that was nev/ locked in such desperate combat with so much that was old."^ It is helpful at this point to summarize the theatrical trends of the later nineteenth century: (1) London had grown to an enormous metropolis linked to a sprawl of new suburbs by extensive rail and road services thereby establishing a vast new po­ tential audience I (2) the theatres, subject only to the censor, were free to choose their ovm programs which allowed for a fantastic variety of entertainment; (3) a change in the social status of the audience, which was now more educated, allowed for a wide variety of plays catering to an increasing range of tastes; (4) the number of theatres increased (the new ones were

smaller, more intimate in nature), and most of the stages were behind the proscenium arch; (5) advances in scenic and lighting effects (Macready's use of limelight, 43. 46.

Kean's electric sun and moon, others' experimentation with the control of gas lighting and electricity) allowed for more realism and/or historical authenticity, expe- cially in the long runs which had the benefit of per­ manent and specially designed' lighting plots and sets with a detailed wealth of trimming, leading audiences to become accustomed to a look of "convincing solidarity"— spectacularism; (6) copyright laws encouraged more quality in drama as opposed to "hack" work, scripts, protected from the pirating that had gone on before the copyright acts of 1897 and 1890, were published concur­ rently with the play's premiere production; (?) there was a progressively greater adherence to Shakespeare's texts and the birth of "Bardolotry"; and (8) the role of the actor-manager-director— particularly the modern concept of the director as the one controlling force in 2 a production— evolved.

The second half of the nineteenth century represented a revolution of changing tastes and tendencies in the theatre that stamped itself upon the consciousness both of those who were merely spectators and those who were actively involved in the practical business of the theatre. The trends of the first third of the century became motivating forces during the middle third of the century 47. and by the last third of the century, particularly the

1890's, they had become the basis on which the modern theatre is based.^ By 1895 The Era could definitely pronounce its judgment: The drama in England never was in a better condition than at the present time. The tone of criticism, the ideals of the actor and the actress, and the aims of the dramatist, have all been elevated,...The drama is taking its proper place amongst the arts; and we may expect in the next ten or twenty years to find our progress even more gratifying and astonishing than that which we have made since the fifties.4

In discussing the theatre of I9OO, Nicoll says that it represented "the final and assured culmination of an organic growth which may be traced back at least to the stage of the Restoration."^ A closer look at the changes in the composition of the audience and their

tastes, the development of the theatres, the approaches to acting, the social status of the actor, and the approach to criticism will help to provide a more adequate background against which Benson and his efforts can be contrasted.

The Theatre's Return to Respectability

The audience of the early nineteenth century theatre was composed, by and large, of the newly affluent, unsophisticated lower class. The upper or aristocratic class was driven away from the theatre. With the Queen's 48. appointment of Charles Kean to the position of Master of the Revels and the return of royal patronage to the theatre, the upper classes slowly began to return to the theatres. This does not imply that their return was immediate after Kean's appointment in 1848. It was instead a slow and gradual process. During the early part of the century the "staid middle class and the respectable, dignified nobility tended to look upon the stage as a thing not to be supported in an active manner."^ Improved transportation both outside the city of London and within the city itself made the theatres more readily available to the members of the middle class, resident in the outlying districts, and enabled them to come to the theatrical district within the heart of metropolitan 7 London. The Queen's patronage hastened the return of the respectable middle and upper classes to the theatres and stimulated the enthusiasm for the drama, so much so that in I896 the following could be said: Acting, as a profession, now has the direct sanction and approval of the fount of honour in these islands; and it owes that recogni­ tion to the gracious sympathy and appreciation of the present wielder of the sceptre.®

Another aspect of the audience of the last half of the century was the growth of the intellectual aware- neww of the public. The newspapers and periodicals of the period devoted more and more space to the subject 4 9 , of the theatre and the drama. "By the nineties the increase of interest taken in the drama had become incontrovertible,"^ By I898 such comments as the following placed the theatre in perspective; The theatre is growing in importance as a social organ. Modern civilization is rapidly multiplying the class’ to which the theatre is both school and church, and when the dramatic art is practised rightly,,.the national importance of the theatre will be as unquestioned as that of the army, the fleet, the Church, the law and the schools,10

A curious alliance between the theatre and the Church helped to add to the respectability of the theatre. Of this, Nicoll says: The approval of the Church, whatever disadvantages and misconceptions might arise, was of immense value to the theatre; without it the audience could not have become truly representative of the community. In the seventies the discussions in congresses and the sermons from the pulpit were beginning to draw back to the auditorium certain sections of the community which had refrained from attendance at dramatic representa­ tions or attended seldom and in mental perturbation,11 The knighthood of Henry Irving in 1897 represented the culmination of the new attitudes toward the theatre.

The honor bestowed upon Irving demonstrated the acting profession's new position; an actor was not received into polite society and he was treated as an artist worthy of distinguished recognition. The activities 50. of Irving's knighthood included his reading of Becket in Canterbury Cathedral, and the unveiling of a statue of Mrs. Siddons in Paddington Green— the first statue of an actor to be erected in London. Here was signifi­ cant recognition by the Church and by the public of the 12 actor's worth and new position.

The production techniques of the managers and the tastes of the audience went hand in hand. The audience wanted more and more realism in the mounting of the productions on the stage. The trend toward historical authenticity had been begun by Macready and Kean. So, as the end of the century approached, the audiences demanded more and more detail both in the historical revivals and in the plays dealing with contemporary problems. Experiments with gauzes, dioramas, panoramas, lighting techniques, , and set pieces helped to advance theatrical effects to make them more real. While referring to the nineties, Nicoll summarizes this trend when he says ; Often unadorned realism held such charms that but to see reproduced upon the stage what anyone might see without effort on the streets outside the theatre was very ecstasy and bliss. A real cow could make the success of a play, not because it was a strange cow or a prize cow or a sagacious cow— simply because it, a cow of cows, was made to appear in a faithfully imitated farmyard scene, A 51 é

real lamp-post on the stage was a wonder, and a real hansom cab the realization of a dream. Men began to pay attention now to things they had never heeded b e f o r e , 13

Audiences' desire for detail and reality in stage production carried over into acting styles as well, A "classical" style of acting had been popular at the beginning of the century, John Phillip Kemble and Mrs, Siddons were the leaders of a group which considered acting to be a conventional art and they strove to demonstrate their skill as actors rather than to simulate life. Therefore their approach to acting was primarily iZl intellectual rather than emotional. However, a style of acting evolved during the first half of the century through the passionate rantings of Edmund Kean, the more colloquial styles of Macready and Phelps, the "gentlemanly" air of Charles Kean,^^ until, during the last twenty years of the century, the art became noteworthy for the

"suppressed emotion" and a "reserved force" which, when carried to extremes, resulted in underplaying,"^ This restraint more nearly satisfied the audience's desire for realistic presentation by performers.

One of the changes that was brought about in the theatre during the last half of the century created problems for actors. As the long run principle became established, the stock company-repertory theatre declined. 52.

It had been the practice before the advent of the long run for a number of London theatres to have permanent stock companies or at least a company engaged for the season. When London theatres needed additional personnel, they merely raided the similar companies existing in the larger towns in the provinces. Any young actor desiring a career in London was expected to serve his apprentice­ ship in the stock companies of the provinces. These stock companies were a provincial nursery for the stars of the future, where the aspiring actor or actress gained excellent experience by the constant variation of the repertoire. Once the long run became popular this same young actor found himself without an adequate opportunity for training. Once touring became popular, the apprentice actor might get a role in a touring production, but he would be forced to spend a long period of time in a single role rather than gaining experience in a variety of roles in a repertory company.

The demise of the repertory theatres as a result of the long run also created a problem for a segment of the audience. Instead of seeing a variety of old and new plays done in repertory, they were forced to see either the long run successes or occasional and elaborate re­ vivals, The amount of opportunity available to the young playwright was also reduced. Like today, only those 53. plays that were considered to be potential successes were produced. The preference for the long run and the lack of opportunity for the young actor were two problems Benson sought to solve.

That newspapers and periodicals of the last part of the century devoted more and more space to the theatre and drama has already been noted. This circumstance suggests the rise of the knowledgeability of the members of the new audience and the increasing popularity of the theatre. The widespread discussions of theatrical matters in these publications also permitted the develop­ ment of two groups of critics and essayists, which in turn mirrored two major differences in viewpoint among 17 the spectators. ' W.A. Lewis Bettany described the two 1 P schools of thought as "the Ancients and the Moderns".

The Ancients represented the great mass of stolid, respectable, middle class opinion. was the leader of the Ancients. He was held in great personal esteem by the public j a "reflection of a tendency which produced a Henry Irving and a Beerbohm Tree."^^ Scott's reviews were characterized by his sentimental heart. What appealed to his sentiment he praised; what was aimed at appealing to his mind he did not appreciate. He did his best to kill the spirit of the new drama, the social 54.

problem play. to him represented a sociological

pamphlet which discussed topics about which he was grimly determined to maintain public silence. 20

The tastes of the younger intellectuals who, sensing the change in the theatre, "had come to look upon it as a place where high aspirations and daring thought might find

scope," represented the Moderns. headed this school of criticism. Where Scott admired with his

emotion. Archer admired with his reason. He entirely

condemned the conventional drama, and did a great service in championing the cause of Ibsen and other young natural- 21 istic writers.

Each school had its disciples and of course there was a group that held to the middle of the road. But what was really important was that criticism was no

longer a prefunctary thing. It had become a part of the public's interest, no longer appealing only to the 22 intellectuals.

Prominent Actor-Managers in London during the Nineties

The evolution of the actor-manager tradition has been summarized in Chapter I, Before turning attention specifically to Benson, a look at the leading actor- managers involved in Shakespearean revival during the 1890's

is necessary. According to Odell, the Lyceum became the 55.. leading theatre in London, perhaps of the English speaking world, with the accession of Henry Irving to sole management in 18?8, This reputation stayed with this theatre until Irving left it in 1902, Even during the later years of Irving's management, when successes were harder to come by, there is little doubt in Odell's mind of the supremacy of the Lyceum as the home of im­ portant Shakespearean production in the minds of the London playgoers,But, as is always the case, there were those actor-managers who sought to supercede the power and prominance of Irving and the Lyceum, If this were not possible, they could at least establish them­ selves so that they could legitimately lay claim to the title of Irving's successor.

Two men. Sir Johnston Forbes-Robertson and Sir , were undoubtedly responsible, along with Irving, for shaping the tastes of the London audiences in the direction of Shakespearean revival and spectacular production during the 1890's, They established their reputations with the London audience and in the theatres soon to be associated with their names during the last decade of the century.

Sir Johnston Forbes-Robertson, according to Hesketh Pearson, was the only famous actor incapable of giving an indifferent performance in any role who did not 56.

oh, like acting. Gifted with classical features, an engaging manner, a natural elegance of speech and move­ ment, and a rich, melodious voice; his Hamlet was con­ sidered by most actors and the general public to be the definitive one. He had the ability to deliver Shakespearean language as if it were his own idiom. The beauty of his 2< diction matched the beauty of the words, Donald Brook, writing in 1950, describes his acting style by saying that he disliked most of the "advanced" ideas of underplaying that were being propagated some thirty or forty years before, and preferred to be guided by his own good sense of the beautiful and to "preserve a balance between the so-called 'intellectual* acting 26 and the highly emotional style.

Born in 1853i Forbes-Robertson*s early years were spent preparing himself to be an artist and as his draw­ ings showed considerable promise he became a student at the Royal Academy,^? After three years at that insti­ tution it became necessary for him to earn his ovm living and he embarked upon a career on the stage. His early years as a professional actor were spent in the stock companies of London and the larger provincial cities, lending support to leading actors. While playing in Charles Calvert's company in , he met

Samuel Phelps, then in his seventies, and Phelps took 57. the young actor under his wing and tutored him in the art of acting.

Trained by Phelps, he was steeped in the tradition of Shakespearean revival. Aside from Hamlet, his other Shakespearean roles included Romeo, Claudio, Leontes, Buckingham, Macbeth, Othello, and Shylock, Claudio,

Leontes, and Buckingham he did at the Lyceum for Irving, During Irving's tours of the provinces and/or America, he took over the Lyceum and produced such Shakespearean plays as Romeo and Juliet. Macbeth, and Hamlet, as well as non-Shakespearean plays. Mrs, Patrick Campbell was his leading lady in these Lyceum efforts,

Forbes-Robertson first took over the Lyceum in

1895, William Winter, a devoted friend, describes the reasons 1 Forbes-Robertson, when a little past the age of forty, found himself in a position in which it was essential for him to decide whether to devote the remainder of his life to the business of 'supporting' other actors or to venture for himself. Viewing the condition of the English Stage, he saw the prosperity of actors who, with less of professional experience and actual accomplishment to their credit than his own, were prominent and influential in the theatrical world, and he became convinced that if he was ever to occupy the position to which he was rightfully entitled and to act the great parts he wished to act he must produce plays for himself, as most of the managers were also actors and 58.

could not be expected to bring out the plays for h i m , 28

His second stint as a manager at the Lyceum came in 1897, the year of his widely acclaimed Hamlet, Irving was so impressed by his performance in this great tragedy that he told him "'You must go and play Hamlet all over the w o r l d , '"^9 Acting upon Irving's advice, he took the company to and Holland in the early spring of I898,

About this same time, Forbes-Robertson formed a close relationship with , The pro­ ductions of two of Shaw's plays were among his greatest successes. The Devil's Disciple was one and Caesar and Cleopatra the other. They often argued violently about the plays, but their association was built on mutual respect.

At the death of Sir Henry Irving it was chiefly through the efforts of Forbes-Robertson that the famous actor was buried in Westminster Abbey, It was he who obtained suitable signatures to the petition and approached the Dean and Chapter, He was also one of the twelve pall-bearers,^®

He retired from the theatre in I915, after nearly four years of farewell tours in Great Britain and America, During the next twenty years he devoted much of his 59. leisure time to painting, art criticism, and tc the writing cf his autobiography. He died in 1937.

Of the other prominent stage personalities in the period dominated by Irving, aside from Forbes-Robertson, Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree was one of the more outstanding and vital characters of this group: "a great artist in whom a poetic temperament and a flair for sound stage management were successfully united.Tree's contri­ butions to the theatre included not only his activities as actor, manager, and producer, but also in 1904 he founded the Academy for Dramatic Art.

Tree, born in 1853» w^-s the son of a grain merchant.

After completing his formal education, he entered his father's office. His evenings were spent reading the works of the great dramatists and haunting the London theatres.He soon became involved in amateur theatricals, working in two or three of London's better amateur groups. He demonstrated more skill in these amateur productions than many of his fellow actors and went regularly to seek the advice and help of experienced people in the professional theatre. Through the efforts of these people, he began to get a few minor parts in professional productions. "Being an exceptionally good mimic of some of the leading actors of the day, and a good comedian, he 6 0 . found favour easily in certain obscure and unfashionable

London theatres.

His early years were filled with roles in touring companies and appearances in London, He began to build his reputation in character roles. In 1882 he married

Miss Maude Holt, a teacher who had consulted him about her own prospects for a career on the stage. Their married life must have been a very close one for they shared many changes of fortune and Mrs, Tree provided him with constant encouragement. Early in his career, out of work and low on funds, the Trees rented out their little house on Wilton Street and moved to a shabby apartment on Haverstock Hill until things became better "ail for them financially.^

In 1887f Tree entered management at the Comedy

Theatre. Later that same year, he took over the management of the Haymarket Theatre, where he remained for ten years. His first Shakespearean production was The Merry Wives of Windsor in 1889, with himself as Falstaff. He took the comment by one critic that "no actor has ever leered more naturally, or has expressed the dominant desire in his mind by facial expression more strikingly than does this latest Falstaff," as a doubtful compliment. 61.

Tree's ability with character roles, especially with those of a comic nature was extraordinary. One of his greatest assets was a skill with make-up. Sir George Arthur Hill in his reminiscences From Phelps to Gielgud. says of this skill: Tree's flair for make-up was truly remarkable, far exceeding that of any actor; he could alter the shape of his head as easily as he could rearrange his features, but unfortunately he could not remodel his hands, which were the weak part of his physique. Although the cares of production might cause him to be a little vague about his words on a first night, it was always evident that, word-perfect or not, he not only looked but really felt the character he was assuming. As Gringoire he felt hungry, as Svengali he felt musical, magnetic and dirty, as Fagin he felt himself an old Jew of the worst type, as Richard and John he felt himself a king.3°

In I695 he conceived the idea of building Her Majesty's Theatre, which was completed early in I897. It was in this house that his productions of Shakespeare became known (and oftentimes condemned) for their spectacle. Pearson says of them: They were done with the utmost splendour and realism. The wood near Athens in A Midsummer Night's Dream had rabbits running about in it: 's garden in was carpeted with grass and filled with flowers and statuary; the opening scene of showed a complete ship rocking in a sea the waves of which splashed over the deck and made many in the audience feel squeamish; the rustic waterfall, a willow-tree, reeds and such-like riparian devices; King John contained a still life picture which 62.

exercised the ability of the entire company to keep still and look like a picture but did not forward Shakespeare's dramatic in­ tent; in Richard II Tree rode through London on horseback though Shakespeare was content with making-another character mention the episode,,..-^'

During his lengthy career as an actor-manager Mr, Tree produced the following Shakespearean revivals: The Merry Wives of Windsor. Hamlet. Henry IV. Part I. Julius Caesar. King John. A Midsummer Night's Dream. Twelfth Night. Richard II. The Tempest. . The Winter's Tale. Antony and Cleopatra. The Merchant of Venice and O t h e l l o Brook described his mountings of these productions as being magnificent.^^

Comments by anonymous author on his production of The Tempest (1904) might well be used as a summary of critical opinion that grew to surround these Shakespearean revivals t ...Mr. Tree...has taken infinite care not to produce The Tempest at all. The play which now enthrals the uncritical audience is Shakespeare's only in name and title. The whole frame and fabric of the drama are misinformed, Shakespeare, for reasons which doubtless appeared excellent to him, composed The Tempest in five acts. This arrangement does not commend itself to Mr, Tree, who ruthlessly cuts it do’m to three.

This writer then went on to add athat Shakespeare's plays afforded "no decent opportunity" for elaborate scenery and charged Tree with mounting the play as if it 63. had been "the most modern of the moderns", with making vulgar use of stage illusion, of irrelevant scenery, of real water around Prospère’s magic island, Shakespeare had been smothered beneath a mass of painted canvas, and all the actors had been incompetent and the whole play had been reduced to the level of a Christmas pantomime

In June of I9I7 , Tree met with an accident and was severely injured. He died from complications after an operation to correct the injuries. The date was July 2, 1917.

What has gone before helps to suggest the climate of the English theatre as it existed when Benson had his first season in London at the end of I889 and during the first half of I89O, The attitudes and trends had been clearly established by the time he attempted to conquer London for the second time in February of I9OO, Before Benson's major attempts to establish himself as a force in the theatre of London can be considered, one must understand what shaped his desire to become a leading theatrical figure in the theatre capital of England, 64.

The Coming of Benson's Call to the Theatre

Two events, which happened in Benson's last years at Oxford, were to have a lasting influence on his career. The one was his winning the three mile race against Cambridge on Thursday, April ?, 1881, The other was his appearance as Clytemnestra in Aeschylus' Agamemnon. On June 3, 1880, in Balliol Hall, five years before the founding of the Oxford University Dramatic Society, there was staged under the direct patronage of Jowett, Master of Balliol, the first serious attempt in Britain, some schoolboy efforts aside, to perform a Greek play in the original tongue. To treat these two events in the order Benson did in his memoirs, his accomplishments as a track star will be considered first.

Throughout his career, Benson's name was closely linked with athletics and physical fitness. His winning of the three mile race, his devotion to athletics of all kinds, and his incorporation of this devotion into his theory of acting and subsequently his performances, provided the basis for many of the jokes about Benson's acting style that were to dog him throughout his career.

But to return to the race which Benson caH.ls "one of the red-letter hours in my life,"^^ By way of 65. background, the Oxford track team was tied with Cambridge four all. The success of the competition for Oxford rested upon Benson's winning the three mile race against Hough, later Bishop of Woolv/ich, who had beaten Benson in the same event the year before, Benson describes the event as follows s My instructions were to jump off from the start, cut down the speedy Hough, make him race all the way, wearing him out by his endurance if possible, 'Get away from him before entering the straight',,,,We two led off together, stride by stride, faster and faster. Hough led me for the first two miles— Cambridge was jubilant,,,, Jackson, father of athletics for Oxford and England, as we reeled off the laps, muttered fiercely to me : 'Remember your instructions; you are throwing your chances away,' I had a different theory, and meant to follow it,,,.Cheerily Hough strode away, going strongly, I stuck to him,,,.Stride by stride we go along. Two more laps to go. The crier sounds his bell. Things begin to happen; young Cambridge and Oxford watch. Going along the 'backer* of the second lap from home I draw up to Hough's shoulder, A surprised look steals over Hough's face, but he runs gamely, I pull back. It was just a feeler and no more. He thinks he's got me, Cambridge is relieved,,,. Round the top we stride. We are quick­ ening, Now down the straight leading to the last lap, I again come up to Hough's shoulder, making a strong effort to spring by. Hough forestalls me, but in doing so lurches- right out into the centre of the path, forcing me almost to the outer edge .,,,1, however, am quite satisfied; again I drop back.,,,I had gathered that my antagonist was more done than myself. Hough's breath cam sobbingly, I fancied I detected a falter in his stride,,,,I had planned, when the last quarter-mile post 66.

came, to run my hardest from there to the winning post till I reached the tape, or dropped. I was not afraid of Hough's fast time for a quarter. Round the bend v/e come, still stride for stride. The band is playing, the crowd intent and silent. We reach the commencement of the last lap. With a bound Hough dashes off: triumphant roar of Cambridge, Dismay of Oxford: 'This is what happened last year. It was just at this point that Hough left Benson standing still,' Not quite the same today, I lengthened out a little and was again at Hough's shoulder, Cambridge's shout of triumph dies away. Step by step we struggle to the quarter mile post. Straining my utmost, this time I spurt past at top speed for home, A roar from Oxford; Cambridge looks aghast, A desperate plunge from Hough to try to regain the lead— he stumbles, trips and falls full-length to the right upon the grass, I heard the Oxford roar in answer to his effort; I heard the roar die away and thought : 'I suppose Hough is still holding on.' Faster I sped and faster, until friend Bruce, whom I had asked to stand by the corner to cheer me on in the last desperate sprint home, ran at me, waving: 'Hough's down, you've wonl* Then all the interest dies away, and for the first time I felt the wind was blowing hard against me and I had had a tough struggle,,,.Congratula­ tions, cheers, quite the hero of the afternoon,42

The winning of this athletic contest and the importance that has been placed upon it here seems contradictory when put in juxtaposition with Benson's other accomplishment during his Oxford days— playing Clytemnestra in the Agamemnon, The apparent contradiction between this "red letter hour" and his first theatrical success 67. will be clarified as we procéda.

Benson refers to the Agamemnon as the "coming of the call." In that day, there was no real dramatic club at the university. There had been private theatri­ cals at the various colleges, but the school administra­ tion did not wish for the undergraduates to act in public. Actors, unless they had the name of Irving or

Terry, were looked down upon. The general attitude toward the theatre in Oxford was negative. Benson had no idea that he could do anything about the state of the theatre in Oxford and was content to read female roles for the Shakespeare Society. Greek drama was an entirely fresh idea. In the spring of 1880, vrhen the New College

Shakespeareans discussed their season's program, the Agamemnon v/as daringly suggested to Benson as a possibility for performance. Benson, ready to accept any challenge, suggested that they act it rather than read it. After much consideration, Benson and his friend W.N. Bruce, a Greek scholar, hit upon the idea of staging the play in Balliol Kail. This meant an interview v/ith Benjamin Jov/ett, Master of Balliol Hall. Before presenting their suggestion, they decided to do a little more ground work, cast the proposed production, and try to find some semblance of support for the project. Since most of 68-i their friends were leading athletes, these men were invited to participate in the production of the play.

Scholars and athletes, judiciously mixed, would form the chorus. The power of the athlete was felt even then, and Jowett received the idea with approbation, especially since eight Balliol Hall men were included in the'chorus, and some of his favorite scholars were to play leading roles. Bruce, in whom Howett had implicit faith, was to play Agamemnon. Permission to use Balliol Hall was granted.

Preparations for the production took six weeks. William Benson, Frank's brother, designed the scenery.

They consulted with the most eminent Greek scholars within reach. Burne-Jones and Alma-Tadema advised Benson on how to get the effect of Greek drapery by the use of Bolton sheeting and fine linen and twisted muslin. Benson, seized with a singleness of purpose, did nothing else but work on the production. Every bath and wash basin in Oxford bore the signs of use for dyeing material: and linen and Bolton sheeting were hung from the windows and across bushes to bleach and/or dry.

The night of June 3 came all too quickly and before a most impressive audience that included most of academic 69.

Oxford as well as Robert Browning, who was Jowett's guest, the performance took place, The play was ahuge success— a conquest for the athletes in the cast as well as for the scholars. Benson describes the result as follows : The fact that our company was composed of well-known scholars and athletes fitted them in a peculiar degree for their task. It attracted the attention and aroused the enthusiasm of the audience, while it helped to cairy off unnoticed their want of tech­ nical skill. The simple directness and reverent thoroughness with which we set about our task suited the austere grandeur of the play,45

At any rate, "congratulations poured in from every quarter,The cast promptly accepted invitations to perform their piece at Winchester, Eton, and Harrow, and in December three performances were given at St, George's Hall in London, By then the amateur Agamemnon had become a show-piece that most of the leading actors of the London theatre wanted to see. If the language was Greek to them, the acting was eloquent. The response was even more eloquent. Of this Benson says: The leading actors in London all came to see it, and many of them wrote nice letters to me expressing their surprise and delight. Among them, one of the most treasured marks of approbation, came a card from , the great American actor. Still more welcome was a line from Ellen Terry and ■ Henry Irving, inviting George Lawrence and me to see the performance at the Lyceum and visit them behind the scenes. The 70,

play happened to be The Corsican Brothers. We were ushered into Irving's dressing room. Tough and sinewy looked that spare figure in the picturesque Corsican dress. The pale sensitive face wore a wistful, restless expression, modified by lines of playful and sarcastic humour; the firm clean-cut mouth and square chin bespoke determination, corresponding with the command, courage and nobility of the finely modelled nose; from under the re­ fined artistic brows a pair of piercing yet gentle eyes looked into the heart of men and things, 'You young men did splendidly,' said Irving, with a sigh, 'Ah, if only I had had the opportunity in my young days that you have in yours I Why do you not band together in your troupe, work, study and become a company, the like of which this age has not seen? We have the technical skill upon the stage, we have the traditions; the difficulty nowadays is to get a company that has the literary mind and the trained intellectuality that is associated with university students. Should any of you determine to adopt the stage as your profession I shall be only too glad to render you any assistance I can,' This was no idle promise, as I found after­ wards, and I have remained for ever grateful for the encouragement conveyed in this generous compliment,^7

At this point in their interview, Irving was called onstage for a scene and the two fledgling actors were led to the wings by Bram Stoker to watch the remainder

of the act. Standing there in the wings, watching as paper snow fluttered to the stage, an orange and red sun paled before the rising moon, and Chateau-Renard () talked to the charcoal burner in the silent snow-glistening forest of Fontainebleau, Benson 71. realised what his profession must be. In 1930, Benson recalls this moment as follows: All this nearly a hundred years ago, yet within a yard of last century, on solid planks, re­ paired in 1880, among scenes and framework platforms of the same date, property men in blue coats, stage men in white, all in list slippers, moved noiselessly, yet alert, where? on earth? or in heaven? when? How? No matter, the moment was alive, intensely alive, and the call sounded clearly now to me. I heard it and understood,^® If this is how Benson heard the call, then his assurance was confirmed by Ellen Terry in the following manner:

I had heard the call, and got its confirmation next instant in the passage, A presence rustled around us, an atmosphere of joyous, vibrant vitality— Ellen Terry, graciously profuse in appreciation of Agamemnon. 'one of the greatest things' she had ever seen, and then, alert, erect in her radiant beauty, chief priestess of her own shrine: 'You must come and enlist under our banner, help in the great work. Good-night,' And so back to the audience, but not to earth and humdrum mortality— for many days,^9

Little mention has been made of Benson's performance as Clytemnestra in the Agamemnon, Ellen Terry, in her memoirs, describes the effect of Benson in the performance she saw in the following way: A young woman veiled in black with bowed head was brought in on a chariot. Suddenly she lifted her head and looked round, revealing a face of such pure classic beauty and a glance of such pathos that I called out: 'What a supremely beautiful girlI' Then I remembered that there were no women in the cast I The face belonged to a young Oxford undergraduate, Frank Benson,50 72.

Miss Terry was perhaps the first professional person of the theatre to recognize Benson's classic good looks, Trewin describes him as having a Dantesque appearance, and a profile that might have been found on a Roman coin. He also mentions Benson's aristocratic

demeanor. Lady Benson, while recalling her first meeting with her future husband, describes him as a "handsome boyish figure," (See Figure 1,)

In another review by Andrew Lang, Clytemnestra was

described as : The tall, white figure, the waving arms, the face that expressed with equal skill, horror, triumph, pity (when Iphigenia was named), the fanatical conviction that right was wrong, are likely to dwell long in the memory of the audience,51

That Benson had made an impression in the role of Clytemnestra, that his production of the Agamemnon had been effective had left little question, Benson had felt the call of the theatre. Flushed with his success and what seemed to be the encouragement of professionals, he decided to enter upon a career in the theatre. It was at this juncture that his father said that although he and Mrs, Benson would rather Frank had chosen another direction, they would put no obstacles in his way and would help in his chosen profession as if they, themselves, had chosen it for him,^^ 73.

Benson’s Early Years in London

Upon leaving Oxford, which had afforded him success and renown in two rather dissimilar areas— the theatre and the athletic field— Benson began to study the London theatre as if it had just risen from the deep. Though sports would always play an important part in his life, at this time the theatre became his all consuming passion. "The praise that is often indis­ criminately bestowed on the amateur had no doubt slightly turned my head. I thought my call was to reform the stage.Told by his friends that he was already a great actor, Benson was vain and ignorant enough to believe them. He saw so much that was obviously wrong with the professional stage, at least in his own mind, he thought that these wrongs could be easily amended. He set to work to train for the stage with as much vigor as he had employed to win the three mile race or to carry through the performance of Agamemnon.

Dreaming of the charge Irving had put to him— to establish a band of university students who would study and work into a finished intellectual brotherhood of artists--he took every opportunity of going to the theatre. If he had been Irving, according to Benson, "I could have achieved my task on the lines that I 74.

first laid down for myself in process of long years;

being only myself I thought this end could be attained

in a few months.'

He saw Irving as Shylock, Hamlet, and Macbeth; Ellen Terry as Portia; Miss Bateman as Ophelia, He admitted that he did not at first appreciate Irving's

genius, "I thought will and work were all that was required to ensure success, I am not sure that I did not often mistake 'I want' for 'I will', and treated incli­ nation as call. It took me years to find out what Irving really meant,He knew nothing of the gulf between what was professional and what was amateur. He did not

realize that "there is 'no art but taketh time and pains to learn,

Fresh from the success of the Agamemnon; cheered on by his reception from such established luminaries as

Irving and Terry, overcome with his desire to accomplish Irving's charge, Benson undertook the production of Romeo and Juliet, his first attempt within the confines

of metropolitan London, Several old friends from the Agamemnon joined him, Benson, of course, was to play Romeo, Without a Juliet and never considering for one moment that she wouldn't be eager to join his amateur company, Benson suggested to the famous Polish actress. 75.

Helena Modjeska, that she might care to appear as Juliet,

Madame Modjeska had been much applauded in London,

Benson describes his encounter with her as follows: I well remember the interview with Madame Modjeska, Charmingly gracious was this beautiful artist, I think my cheek must have taken her breath away. She showed no surprise at my impudent request. To give myself due credit, it was very tact­ fully and respectfully put. Due stress was laid on the great desire and interest there would be in seeing such a Juliet, The lady, who had been genuinely impressed with the Greek play, gave the proposition her most careful and kind consideration. Her consent v/as almost obtained when Wil­ son Barret, her manager, at the Court Theatre, decided to produce the play on his own account,57

After Madame Modjeska*s refusal, Benson finally settled on a young actress. Miss Rose Lamb Kenney, to play Juliet, He describes her as an actress of "great recommendation, young, good appearance, and already a professional actress," He admits that she was "handi­ capped by my raw methods, puzzled by my new theories; she had more experience of the stage in her little finger than I had in my whole body,"^® As a professional actress. Miss Kenney had undoubtedly worked with older members of the profession v/ho were not university graduates and members of an "intellectual brotherhood," The fact that she was experienced only served to contrast Benson*s inexperience, Benson admits that in his 76. ignorance and vanity, he was blind, "In spite of my blindness, in characteristic fashion I set to work."^^

It is small wonder that she was puzzled by his methods and zeal.

The visual aspects of the production were far superior to the acting. The athletic background of many of the cast members lent great credulity to the fencing scene, the duellists being well trained and practiced with the foils. "The struggles between the

Montagues and Capulets lacked nothing in realism at the 60 hands of a muscular crowd." The scenery was painted by John O'Connor, with the help of William Benson, and Barthe was the costumer. They made a series of reproduc­ tions of medieval pictures which were absolutely accurate in archeological detail, thereby following the footsteps of the designers of the Lyceum. The properties were skillfully copied from pictures and models in the National Gallery and the museums. "The whole setting, atmosphere and treatment were full of poetic feeling, 61 graceful form and colour."

The production was far from successful at the box office or with the critics. Because the theatre was unfashionably out of the way and Benson scorned adver­ tising, he failed to advertise the play properly and 77. the opening night audience was sparse. Prices were too low and the general public's feeling that something for nothing was a trap kept many people away. Confident that the whispers that the Agamemnons were coming to town would fill the house, Benson neglected to "paper" the house for the opening. Eager to do unabridged Shakespeare in the tradition of Phelps, he used an almost uncut text, a fact made the play last until well after midnight.

A notice in The Morning Post on July 11, 1881, spoke rather inelegantly for the meagre press: Never was tragedy better staged or worse played....Nothing was left undone to please the vision of the audience. For their mental enjoyment but little provision was made, the acting being below the sad average of non-professional performance.

Benson, while evaluating the performance and production, cites other reactions: As a production it was a good bit of work, full of music, full of poetry ; it was simple and reverent. But I believed it better than it was. Arrogantly, I claimed for it an importance and merit that can be acquired only in the professional workshop. Natural­ ly, judged by this standard, I failed. v/as not slow to point out my failures: 'These ruddy amateurs from Oxford think they are going to teach the London stage its business, do they? Let them try! A Greek play by undergraduates is one thing; Shakespeare by incompetents, another.' A paragraph distorted by a printer's error into, 'Some members of the Agamemnon company and their friends, ladies 78,

and gentlemen,' added fuel to the flames, 'Pretentious, impertinent young snobs. An insult to the profession, etc,, etc. We'll put them in their proper places,' The audience composed largely of the friends of the performers, were enthu­ siastic, Not so the Press, reinforced on the three subsequent nights by an invited pit and gallery, Juliet, the Priest (George Lawrence), Mercutio (Dunne), Peter (Fowke) and the Apothecary (Tatham) deservedly carried off the honours, Romeo was fair. Poor me. What with looking after all the company, seeing to every detail in front of the house and behind the scenes (quite unnecessarily), buying cold cream and towels half-an- hour before the curtain went up, ignorant of everything that lightens the labour of the stage manager, I think it was wonderful that I got through as I did. Many old 'pros' and some managers thought the same, and in their next production of the piece copied much of the business and designing. Quite rightly. Press and public make no allowances, 'Wherefore art thou Romeo?'^^

The production had been a costly one and the box office receipts in no way equalled the cost. Squire Benson sent Frank sufficient funds to bail him out. He had enjoyed the production and was determined not to let the boy suffer,

Benson's descriptions of the athleticism in the

duelling scenes in the play and of the reproductions of medieval paintings used as scenic backgrounds have already been mentioned. These effects undoubtedly were what Walter Lacey, who had acted with Charles Kean, 79. was referring to when he went out of his v/ay to congratu­ late Bensons 'Hearty congratulations, young Benson. What struck us in the club was the bold treatment, the originality of the ideas and stage- businesso Was it all your own?.,.you will go very far indeed, both as an actor and pro­ ducer. Don't misunderstand. You can't act for nuts at present; you don't know the rudiments; but you've got power, you've got acting in you and, by God', sir, hardened old stager as I am, you carried me away some­ times and made me pipe my eye.'o^

Though the production had been far from an unqualified success, Benson would long remember the encouragement from this actor and the other positive results from the experience. Within the year, he would leave the ranks of the amateur and enter the ranks of the professional as a member of the company at Irving's Lyceum. During the interim, the words of Laoey and the advice of Irving— that he must refresh the stage, bring to it players supple in art and thought— would serve as inspiration. He thought only in the terms of the theatre of metropolitan London, never once considering that his lack of experience, youthful enthusiasm and ideology might be bitterly resented by the older struggling professionals. It was to be a while yet before he realized that his training ground v/as to be the provinces. 80.

The year between his amateur production of Romeo and Juliet and his professional debut at the Lyceum as the County Paris in the same play was spent in preparation and training as an actor, Benson's penchant for athle­ tics has already been mentioned. It is not surprising then, that his training for the stage included such athletic disciplines as boxing, fencing, wresting, and single-stick. The git s that would come to him in later years— that he acted more with his muscles than his mind— would never bother him, because he placed great importance on being physically fit and agile. In his mind, the discipline necessary for the athlete was equally important to the actor. Thus, he bridged the gap, which to many observers must have seemed unbridge­ able, between two quite different fields of interest, the athletic and the aesthetic. He found similarity in what many thought dissimilar. He also studied elocution with various masters: Walter Lacey, William Creswick, and Herman Vezin, who was proud of speaking at once faster and more clearly than anyone in the theatre. The ballet-master of the Lyceum taught him stage dancing. This whole period was for him rather self-conscious where matters of his voice were concerned. His body he knew.

He could discipline that. His voice v/as another matter.

He was constantly examining it, testing it, embarassing 81. it. In later life he realized that he should have got on the stage at once, anywhere, anyhow. But the exuberance of youth and his "vision" kept him, instead, running between tutors. In his later years, he acknowledges what he might have gained from an apprenticeship onstage: On looking back I realize that possibly I should have avoided many pitfalls, and have escaped many faulty mannerisms, if I had at once started in the school of experience, the workshop of the actual stage,,..The danger of all school tuition is its tendency to generate self-consciousness, the great foe to the dramatic and every other art,65

In July of 1882, Irving kept his promise to help, Benson was invited to replace as the County Paris in the Lyceum revival of Romeo and Juliet.

Alexander was leaving the company when the production closed at the end of July for vacation. He was to join Hare and the Rendais at the St. James. Benson thought that the new-model stage would now be inaugurated. His engagement was to commence September 2 or 4 for the run of the play. He was to receive four pounds per week for six performances a week.

On July 26, he v/as asked to attend a rehearsal the next day. The prompter, J.H. (Jimmy) Allen, was to run him through his part. Then he would meet the company. As he was about to run through the last scene first, he 82, was seized by the realization that the moment of truth had at last arrived. Oxford culture would restore to

English romantic acting a true sense of rhythm, the Shakespearean line. This was the moment when, as a professional actor, Benson of New College and Agamemnon fame, would begin his redemptive task. But, alas, the rehearsal was a disaster, Benson kept going up in his lines, Allen chastised him for "rake-helling all over the town" the night before instead of learning his lines.

Riled by Benson's attempts to "do justice to the poetry," Allen proceeded to lecture him about everything professional actors have told amateurs since Thespis, He demonstrated the proper way to read the lines, and although Benson did not think his rendition was properly Shakespearean, he was impressed with his naturalness. He left the rehearsal in a daze,^^

The next day marked his introduction to the company. He was very kindly and graciously received by the more experienced members of the company who were returning from a two-week vacation. In the midst of all the chattering and laughing of the actors, Irving made his appearance, Benson describes it thus:

Hardly any greating, hardly a word to anyone, except to old Mrs, Stirling (whom he kissed on either cheek); a friendly hurried nod to me, 'Glad to see you, my boy; hope you will 83. be comfortable,' and so off to his sanctum. He does not realize, I thought, that I have come to teach him how to act."?

The rehearsals did not go well for Benson, Proud of his skill with the foil and eager to show off, he thought to show Irving (as Romeo) the proper method when faced with their duel in the last act, Irving saw at once that Paris* stance for the duel was too correct. Wary of the younger man's preconceived notions, he seized Benson's foil, stuck him over the knuckles with his own sword, prodded him in the stomach with his knee, clattered the swords together swiftly, and muttered, "Die, my boy, die— down— down— down I" Elbowed and kneed

Benson into the mouth of the tomb, and then brandished a torch over him. According to Benson, it was all over so quickly that no one could possibly have observed the accurate death spasm he had studied at St, George's Hospital, So far he had done little to reform the theatre of the Lyceum,^®

The opening on September 2 was complicated by an event outside of the usual nervousness, Mrs, Kendal, a member of the company, advised against using make-up as it hid the expression. Confident in this advice, he made his first entrance, spoke his few words with Capulet, and later went on to dance the minuet with Ellen Terry at Capulet's feast. As he came offstage, an irate Bram 84.

Stoker pounced on him: 'Good God, Benson, you have got a dirty face, I rushed round to tell you, it shows from the front. It's a hot night, you are nervous, and you are sweating like a pig in a blue funk.' 'I have a theory,' I began, 'Theory be damned I You can't go on the stage of this theatre with a dirty face. Here, Foster, get him some grease paint, and show him how to use it,'^9

The rest of the performance was played in proper make-up.

After the first performance, the ever gracious

Ellen Terry sent him a note: "Well done, for first done. Most earnestly I do wish you all success,Grateful for her kindness, several days later he wrote her a humble, rather puzzled reply: Thank you very much for writing me a word of encouragement,,,,I was very much ashamed and disgusted with myself all Sunday for my poverty-stricken and thin performance,,,, I feel doubly grateful to you and Mr, Irving for the light you shed from the lamp of art on life, r.ovi that I begin to understand the labour and weariness the process of trimming the lamp entails,71

Later, Miss Terry advised him to "Study and work, young 72 man, study— and watch old Howe and the othersl"'

The idealistic, rather impertinent young man,

learned a lesson in humility. At the end of the first week, feeling that he had not earned his salary, he failed to show up for "treasury call," He was promptly informed that this was not the Lyceum way and that 85. although he was neither good nor bad, they would inform him when they did not want him, and here was his salary,

Benson went on learning. He practised, watched Irving from the wings and proceeded to unlearn what he had learned outside of the theatre. He listened to his fellow actors— especially the more seasoned performers— and learned much from them. Probably the best advice that was given to him was that given by Mrs, Stirling, the actress playing the Nurse: You will never be an actor until you have learned to get through your part— six new ones a week, perhaps— though the snow comes through the roof; with an audience of only two or three drunks, who are not listening; while sparrows twitter and flitter round the auditorium before settling to roost in the flies; while rats trot across the footlights with your pet powder-puff in their mouths; when you have not had a square meal for a month and will probably get no salary on Saturday; when you are sent on for a part of two or three hundred lines with one night's study, and no proper rehearsal. When you can do this, and not dry up; but hold an audience, great or small, drunk or sober, stalls or gallery or Royal Box, whether the play is good or bad, and your part actor-proof or impossible, then and not till then may you call yourself an actor.74

This seemed to the listening Benson a thousand miles from the glorious days of the Oxford Agamemnon. 86.

Romeo and Juliet ended its run on October 7, 1882. Benson had hoped to be a part of Irving's next production

Much Ado About Nothing, but his services were not called for. Instead, he was told that he should find a touring company. He had begun at the top and it was now time to glance down at the plains. More subdued than he had ever been, he looked around for a company where he could gain the experience he wanted and needed. At length, recommended by Irving, he joined in December, at Manchester, the Shakespearean company of Charles Bernard and Miss Alleyn. Thus, he left London and his dreams of revolutionizing the theatre of London by farming an intellectual brotherhood of university trained actors as Henry Irving had charged him to do. It was seven years before he tried once again to woo the elusive London theatre and its audience. It is difficult to imagine that the London audience, growing more sophisticated all the time, would have responded to this inexperienced actor whose driving passion for the theatre was not supported by background or training in the art of the theatre. The audiences of London had become used to seeing these actors and actresses who had served their apprenticeships and had more or less mastered the techni­ ques of theatre art. They would have echoed Irving's feeling that he needed to learn his craft and its disciplines before he again tried to,make them take 87. notice of him.

The Season at the Globe Theatre (I889-I89O)

The seven years between 1882 and I889 were marked with accomplishment and growth for Benson. In 1883» after taking over the debts of the Walter Bentley Company with which he was touring, he became a manager. He began his long association with Stratford-Upon-Avon in 1886 and in that year also was married to Constance

Featherstonehaugh, an actress in his company. He con­ tinued to tour the provinces, continually adding to his repertory of Shakespeare, assembling a company of talented young performers, many straight from the university, and establishing his reputation as a Shakespearean revivalist. This period is treated in more detail in Chapters III and IV.

These years served as a preparation for his "pet scheme of establishing in London a theatre that should revive the palmy days of the Lyceum and the repertoire seasons of the old stock companies."?^ This undertaking seemed to Benson the best way of ministering to the ever growing demands made on the theatre by the developments of drama. The social problem plays of Ibsen, Shaw, Pinero, Robertson and others were growing in popularity as was the concept of the long run. The desire voiced 88. by a portion of the theatre-going public for a return to repertory of the classics has already been mentioned. Since Shakespeare was certainly considered to be classic, Benson's ideal of returning the the repertory of the old stock companies, would satisfy a certain portion of the London audience at least. He considered it necessary to "carry on my company on a larger scale of expenditure than the waning interest taken in Shakespeare by manage­ ments warranted if there was to be any margin of profit.?^

Furthermore, Benson wanted to make it clear to the London public that he had come to town on a "repertoire, not a long-run, basis" and that he had not come to star himself, but "to give an all-round performance in which every artist got a chance of giving his best." He admitted in later years that he failed to make either of these points clear.

He leased the Globe Theatre in Newcastle Street,

Strand, for the end of I889 and during the first half of 1890. The season was to begin on December 10, I889— a date later altered to December I9— with A Midsummer Night's Dream. The original intention had been to play through their "extensive repertoire," but, because of the smallness of the theatre, the plan had to be altered.

The initial production was to be followed by Hamlet. 89.

The Taming of the Shrew, and Othello.

In later years, when recalling his warm welcome at the Lyceum by Henry Irving's company in 1882, Benson

writesi Nothing but helpful kindliness and a desire to make me feel at home, in spite of the fact that young Oxford on the stage was more of a rara avis in those days than now; in spite of the fact that I came from the not very welcome class, the well- to-do amateur. Why should such a one go on the stage and keep the bread out of an actor's mouth, whose father perhaps was not well off, and who might, for all one knew, have a starving wife and children? It was a burning question then where it was fair for anyone of independent means to become an actor or a singer,7°

But in 1889 Benson was unconscious that a move into London was a move into danger. Managers,who had not minded when the young fellow from Oxford was traipsing around the provinces, did not want him as a metropolitan rival, and the attitudes expressed above must have been the prevailing ones in London at the time of his arrival

in I889, Benson remembers that these managers were amused by his "amateur" company of students from the universities, but that they, along with the older actors, hated "the

upstart nursery," Long before the season started, both factions started working to see that Benson, the preten­

tious one, be taught a lesson, "But, ah, how slowly 79 did the old moon of ill-success and misplaced effort wane," 90,

Oblivious to these machinations, the company worked at polishing their opening production, A Mid­ summer Night's Dream had entered the repertory early in 1888 and had been a part of the Stratford Festival that spring, Mrs, Benson, in her memoirs, recalls the 80 production as being a "very lovely show," Husband and wife had designed the production with the lushest of Athenian woods, scampering coveys of elves and fairies to mingle with the trees, plants and flowers which clus­ tered in the forest, Mrs. Benson recallst It was before the law was passed, forbidding children under fourteen to take part in theatrical performances, so we were able to have forty or fifty children as fairies, many of them not more than four or five years old, clothed only in fleshings, with tiny wings on their heads and backs. The effect was exquisitely fairylike as they darted in and out of the forest,81

When the play opened in Stratford, a protracted fight between a spider and a wasp was arranged by Benson; Titania, played by Mrs, Benson, was plagued by an Indian boy who carried the long golden veil which floated from her head; the full Mendelssohn score was used; Puck flew in and about; all of the atmospherics of moonbeam and mist were also included, Benson played Quince at this point, but switched to the role of

Lysander for the Globe presentation. 91.

The Stratford-on-Avon Herald of April 27, 1888, said that the play was beautifully mounted, the fairy scenes were "admirably carried out, and a series of tableaux are produced which, in their picturesqueness, 82 would do credit to even metropolitan theatres." In additional comments on May 4, 1888, the same paper says: ...The comic characters want playing with more care...The words put into their mouths contain v/it sufficient to provoke laughter, and require not the addition of action strongly suggestive of buffoonery.,,. Something better is now attempted, and it is a relief to welcome actors who are supported by a company of competent per­ sons, who exercise taste in the setting of every play, and who bring to the stage the natural methods of the new school [of acting] instead of the loud­ ness and the stilted declamation of the old.83

In general, the play was declared an artistic success and was thoroughly enjoyed by everyone. It was the highlight of that particular season.

The play opened in London with the exhausted company (rehearsals had been long and demanding) giving gay and lyrical performances in spite of theirfatigue.

Benson's detractors knew that the play was going too well for their purposes, Benson records remembered reactions :

'How dare these young people come to town and make all these innovations? What right have they to depart from old traditions, and experiment upon us with their new inven- 92.

tions and ideas?' 'By the right of their own brains,' snapped , in the stalls, to the dismayed grumbler behind him. 'They've done what you never do, man in your criticisms— take the trouble to think.' ^

What were Benson's innovations? Without the benefit of a fully marked prompt book, one must assume that the effects Mrs. Benson mentions of the protracted fight between a wasp and a spider, the Indian boy serving as Titania's veil bearer, and the flight across the stage of the actress playing Puck in the final tableau represent several of these inno­ vations. A survey of the press reaction to the production indicates no others. When comparing these effects with those discussed by Margo Voltz in her study of the Phelps production of this same play, there are no similarities of business.

The reviews were friendlier than Benson's enemies had hoped, although divided. A review of February 8,

I89O, in The Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic News, says: ...I am anxious to admit, to begin with, that if Mr. and Mrs Benson are aspirants more than ordinarily ambitious, there is evidence from first to last that they are also very much in earnest. Indeed, the labour and money expended to produce the play and keep it upon the boards testify not only to the strength of their zeal for theatrical renown, but also to their spirit of self-sacrifice. For in my opinion the pretty scenery, the ad­ mirable orchestra with Mendelssohn's music, the effective ballet and liberal chorus— 93.

quite take the chief place in one's impression of the revival. As to the acting, not only of Mr. and Mrs. Benson but of most of the principles, tottering all the time under its own inadequacy, the additional weight of the mise en scene is too much for it entirely.

Referring to an 1875 production of the play by Phelps, the reviewer mentions that cast's difficulty in making the best of the beautiful verse of the poem, especially the rhyming verse. Of Benson's company, he says further: Is it surprising that the young gentlemen and ladies whom Mr. Benson has gathered round him should cause one to feel the same defect?....Perfection can only be attained by experience and comparison; there is scarcely a fine passage in Shake­ speare of which, when rendered properly, the effects have not been laboriously built up by past actors. Failing this, point after point will be missed by an audience which knows anything about the Bard at all; and it will be more cross about one grace lost in a familiar passage then about a dozen weaknesses in other directions. In the performance at the Globe this newness of the actors to their work seemed to me to be the con­ tinuous drawback. I got the general meaning of the plot, and— because they depended so largely upon Miss Kate Rorke and Miss Ada Ferrar— a fair idea of the love scenes in the forest; but I missed many of the beauties and most of the subtlties of the play as a poem.

After commenting on all of the individual performances, the critic ended this series of remarks by saying, "Of all these I must say— speaking for myself— that I fancy

I could find the same number of pure amateurs who could do as well or better with somebody like the late John 94.

Rider to give them a few week's schooling," He concluded his review by calling the production "a pleasing enter­ tainment, however far it may fall short as a Shakespearean 87 performance,"

In another review in the Pall Mall Gazette of December 20, 1889, Benson was warmly welcomed as he opened his "metropolitan campaign" at the Globe Theatre, This critic says of the opening performance: Of the success of Mr, Benson's first experiment there seems little doubt, 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' has not been seen in the metropolis proper for some years, and many of its scenes and episodes have lost that familiar ring which they possessed in the days of Phelps and his predecessors. But yet last night's audience greeted the quaint old comedy for all the world as if it were a succession of household words. For a good deal of this friendly enthusiasm Mr, Benson's liberality and excellent taste were doubtless responsi­ ble, There has been no 'scamping' behind the scenes at the Globe— no half measures in the matter of mounting. On the contrary, the play has been put upon the stage with as much care as if it were intended to run for a year. At the end of his comments, he tells of Benson's curtain speech and remarks about the play in general: At the end of the play Mr, Benson came forward in response to a loud 'call,' and in a very brief speech expressed his thanks for the cordial reception which had been extended to his company and himself. That reception can hardly fail to be continued during the Christmas 95.

holidays, for in the Globe 'Midsummer Night's Dream' we surely have a model Shakespearian play for our young folks.O"

In summary, the other reviews must be mentioned. The Times thought the revival was "intelligent and appreciative."®^ Joseph Knight, in The Athenaeum, was disappointed: "Mr. Benson will do well to leaven his company of apparent actors with a few trained actors,...the general representation is inadequate. William Archer, in The World, was kinder. If there was nothing superlative in the production not much was inadequate 0^^ In Clement Scott liked Benson's graceful and disarming speech of thanks at midnight, but not much else: "Charitably the audience forgot the self-evident fact that here v/as a poetical play by Shakespeare with all its poetry, all its fancy, all its imagination unaccountably omitted.

If one is to judge the above reviews as accurate, it is safe to assume that the production was an opulent and visually spectacular one. These critics were used to extravagant visualization in the theatre, and their judgment would undoubtedly be based on the comparison of the spectacle contained in this production with that seen in other productions, not necessarily of the same play. The comments about the inexperienced company and 96.

the recurring remarks about the amateur actors were also probably accurate, at least according to London standards.

Except for a small nucleus of experienced and accomplished actors like Alice Denvil and George Weir, two very experienced low comedians, the majority of the company was undoubtedly young. Many of them were from the university and therefore not solidly trained in their art. Those actors who did show promise, were immediately wooed away from the Benson company after they had es­ tablished, in some degree at least, their ability. Benson kept refurbishing the company from season to

season with young people fresh from the university or from less important theatres. Therefore, he undoubtedly had a group of young, inexperienced actors working for him. The theatre critics of London were, for the most part, used to seeing experienced, skilled actors on the stage, and by comparison, Benson's company must have seemed inept and amateurish.

The lack of lyricism in the production is easy to understand and believe as well. Benson had an under­ standing of rhythm. "I always had a keen sense of

rhythm— which rhythm showed itself in running, in rowing, in dancing and in drama, but strangely little in sense of tune,"93 That he had little "sense of tune," is demonstrated by another story; 97.

Continuing my experiments, I was introduced to Madame Schumann, at afternoon tea in my cousin's pretty drawing-room in Kensington Square, which he kindly allowed to regard as my home when in London. Madame gra­ ciously agreed to consider the training of my voice. She sat down to the piano and sounded a chord somewhere in the bass. I responded in a high tenor. She looked up furtively and said: *Vatl You prefer a higher key, eh?' and struck a chord in the region of my first utterance. I immediately responded with a low growl in the bass voice of Buffalo Bill. She seemed surprised, not to say a little pained, and after a few seconds of chasing one another up and down the key­ board she slammed down the lid, sprang to her feet with flashing eyes, and in a voice of disgust and suffering yelled at me the words of doom: 'You have no ear, and your voice he is beasleel'9^

From the above, it is safe to assume that he was tone deaf. If this were the case, he would not be able to hear the music in the lines of Shakespeare, and therefore his company would not be directed or coached in conveying every nuance of the lyricism inherent in the lines.

The play ran on briskly. The audience, spurred on by a visit from members of the royal family, began to accept the Dream as a success and flocked tobuy tickets. One must remember that the audience of this period had started its return to the theatre when Queen Victoria, some years before, had given Charles Kean her patronage. Royal sanction and approval served as an official endorsement, similar to the endorsement of 98.

commercial products by sports stars, movie stars, and prominent government officials of today. The visual spectacle, the elaborate comic business that one of the

critics mentioned, the subject matter of the play itself— with fairies, elves, and the charming "mechanicals", the music and the Christmas season all worked together

to make this an attractive production for children to see, thus helping to swell the box office.

This production had played at the Globe for a month when Benson, faithful to his belief in repertory,

and his refusal to let a play be staled by custom— beliefs Macready had held with equal misfortune some fifty years earlier— suddenly changed the bill and put

on on January 23 , He did this against the advice of his manager and friends. Although this is the normal run of seasonal repertory at Stratford

and the National Theatre today, in I89O it bewildered the London playgoers who were used to the long run system, Benson recalls : The public accepted the Dream as a success, and they flocked to take tickets. Suddenly it was announced that Hamlet [During the last weeks of the Globe season, Benson res­ urrected Dream on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday and Hamlet on Thursday and Friday,] was also going into the bill, Argal, the Dream cannot have been a success; argal, we have been duped; argal, we will ask our money back; argal, the whole thing is a fraud. 99.

'A box for the Dream. 'said an opulent patron, springing out of his hansom-cab, 'Very sorry, sir, but it's Hamlet to­ night. The Dream is on tomorrow night,' 'Blast the place'.' exclaimed the outraged Maecenas, 'One never knows what's on. Damned if I'll ever come near your theatre again!'95

The box office fell into a slump, the above being only one example of the London playgoer's attitude. Benson admitted that it had been a temptation to abandon his theory of repertoire for the sake of exploiting a legitimate and well-earned success; "but, though I might have made a fortune, I felt I should have been untrue to my text, and so I decided to carry out my original intention,A substantial loan from his P? brother Godfrey enabled him to keep the season going,'

The critical reaction to The Taming of the Shrew was a puzzled one, Benson's athletic performance of Petruchio was received with much scorn. Archer finds some words of praise and then adds qualifications: To the end of the second act there was much to be said for Mr, Benson's Petruchio, I believe it was strictly Shakespearean in conception; for the Petruchio of the text is surely a boar and a ruffian by nature, not (as we m o d e m s would fain conceive him) a gentleman putting on the mask of brutality for a given purpose. It is hard to tell why Mr, Benson would make him a sailor,,.. 100.

Not until Petruchio "brings Katharine to his home did Mr. Benson overstep the limit even of Elizabethan crudity. Here his Petruchio ceased to be a boar only to be­ come a montebank, an "acrobat", a "knock- ab-out artist" of the most violent type. The scene is one of pure farce, granted; it must be boistrous or it is naught; but there is no reason why it should be ear splitting, nerve torturing, senseless, barbarous, brutal.9°

The Times considered that Benson was undoubtedly wise to appeal to the groundlings, though his athleticism "seemed to scandalize a section of the house, who received his exuberance with some slight hissing." One news­ paper critic put Benson in his place. After scoring the . rage for "athletic exercises and abnormal muscular development" on the stages, in the music halls, and even at the Drury Lane pantomime performances," hesays: ...So why should not young Oxford's most celebrated athlete, the Apollo Belvedere of the Isis, the champion high jumper, the swift footed Achilles of his time, now that he has turned actor, treat the dear old bard of Avon from the purely physical standpoint?...surely never before was the comedy of 'The Taming of the Shrew' re­ garded as an athletic exercise. Mr. Benson sees his way to a perfectly new idea of Petruchio. Leather-lunged and strident he has often been on the stage. He has roared, and roared louder than the lion beloved of Bully Bottom. Says Mr. Benson, let him roar again. But no only that. It is not only necessary to lift the roof of the theatre with throaty ululations; it is not sufficient to "split the ears of the groundlings," and to indulge in inexplicable dumb show and noise; the time has come for showing what Oxford athleticism has done for. the development of the Shakespearean student. 101.

So, to the applause of dons and doctors and tutors, the champion Oxford high jumper, in the character of Petruchio, takes tables and chairs in a standing leap, jerks Katharine with the palm of his hand, and twists round the termagant as if she were a tactotum. In this wretched weather the exercise appears to do the Shakespearean actor a vast amount of good. It expands his chest and exercises his muscles....Altogether, it is a very exhilarating exhibition, and probably doctors would recommend it as a cure for the microbic influenza, but what it all has to do with art of Shakespearean interpretation few as yet have been enabled to discover.99

The tone of this review would certainly indicate a lack of regard for Benson and his efforts. Judging from the snide quality of the piece, the critic belonged

to that coterie which had little use for "Oxford's most celebrated athlete" and his approach to Shakespeare. It might be safe to assume that this writer and those

that felt like him, were the same ones who referred to the provinces with a sneer. Anything that did not have its origin within the confines of London, would be looked dovm upon. To them "provincial" would probably be regarded as "second" or even "third" rate. This faction might well have been a part of the group of London news­ paper people who had attacked the Board of Governors of the Shakespeare Memorial Theatre in Stratford as un­ mercifully some ten years before. (See Chapter IV.) 102.

After The Taming of the Shrew, which he admitted did not add to his reputation, Benson turned to Hamlet on March 6, The flood of opposition to the production nearly swamped the Globe, The Athenaeum summarizes this opposition: ...In an exhibition of dreamlike beauty Mr. Benson's company is seen to some ad­ vantage, and in farce it is not much more extravagant than other English companies. For tragedy it exhibits, however, no qualification, and the fact that the majority of those taking part in the representation are amateurs becomes painfully evident.... Mr. Benson seems to realize neither the char­ acter nor the play. Not only has his Hamlet no fatefulness} it has no congruity, it may almost be said no continuity. Vacillation and uncertainty are ordinarily assigned Hamlet, but Mr. Benson seems to possess a chameleon-like power of adaptation, and to be the man of whatever circumstances arise. He has on emergency some fire, and is best when he is most wrathful. He adopts, moreover, unfamiliar attitudes, and is much on the ground, on his knees, or half recumbant. These things matter little. But he is also loquacious and does not seem to have any distinct knowledge of his own mind. Absolute bewilderment is produced in the playgoer when Hamlet, while repudiating all love for Ophelia, is seen to be wooing her to the very best of his ability, unable to keep his hands off her.100

Hamlet won little glory. Undaunted, Benson promised revivals of Othello. Twelfth Night. The Merchant of Venice, and The Merry Wives of Windsor.

Finances caused Benson to cancel all but Othello. which opened on April 18. It played two performances. 103.

Benson's light skinned Othello was described as scholarly and zealous. His executive power v/as not always equal to his creative intelligence, and he became extremely violent without need. The Times regretted a lack of command, and other writers felt that Cartwright, straight from Adelphi villainy, was an lago none could loi have looked upon as honest. The Athenaeum had a final jab. An experiment by a group of untrained, or half trained actors had had as much success as could be expected. Agreed, the company had had "a triumph" 102 in comedy— but Othello. like Hamlet, was a blunder. It is odd that this magazine used the term "triumph" in reference to Benson's comedy productions. Dream had been successful, for the reasons discussed earlier, but Shrew, aside from its spectacle, had drawn very little favorable response. It may have been the case that the , however lacking they may have been by London standards, when placed in contrast with the , looked like triumphs by comparison.

Othello played on Thursday and Friday evenings.

On Saturday, the company presented two performances of A Midsummer Night's Dream and ended thereby their run at the Globe, Benson still had time to run on his lease, but he was able to rent out the theatre and retreated to the provinces to begin planning his autumn tour. The 104. sole feat of the season had been to renew the stage popularity of A Midsummer Night’s Dreair:. a popularity that would never be lost.

That Dream was the most successful of his presenta­ tions during the Globe season is fairly obvious from the reviews. Once again, it becomes a matter of degree in contrast to the other productions. Dream at least was making money at the box office when Benson took it off the program. It had received the most favorable review of all the other plays.

In evaluating his season at the Globe, Benson says: I have never quite relinquished the idea with which I started. That there is some method in my madness; that in spite of many mis­ takes at the Globe, my theory is a sane one, is proved by the numerous repertory efforts that have continued to be started from that time to this. ...This visit to town achieved much less than I had hoped. If gained for me many offers that would have more than recouped the outlay, and secured for me wealth and prosperity, had these things been my main object— I mean, in the direction of pos­ sessing solid brick and mortar interests at the commencement of the modern rise in the value of such theatrical property. But I felt the old qualms about owning a theatre for whose output I could not always be responsible. I felt that my own pet scheme of a central home and school of poetical and national drama would be jeoperdized if I chose the primrose way to heaven, I therefore elected to stumble blindly down the straight and narrow path, which often led Filmed as received without page(s) ,

UNIVERSITY MICROFILMS. 1 0 6 , choice. His fellow actors considered Forbes-Robertson 1 0 t r the most likely candidate," Benson, going along with his fellow actors, chose Forbes-Robertson: I think the later theatrical world would agree that, while Irving is still without a successor to fi]1 his place, the mantle of Elijah fell legitimately on the shoulders of his disciple. Sir Johnston Forbes- Robertson, Sir Henry himself, before his death, said that the days when such an institution as the Lyceum was possible had passed away for ever, I think myself that he was wrong in this view, and am sufficiently an optimist to believe that a similar temple will again arise,10°

That Benson chose Forbes-Robertson is not difficult to believe, Forbes-Robertson elected to go into management because he wanted to play important roles, Benson had done the same thing. Shortly after taking over the Bentley company, he had put himself into the leading roles of the productions the company presented, Forbes- Robertson was "an actor's actor," His work with Phelps had started him out in the more formal school of acting--

"classical" acting. This of course meant that his performances v/ere larger than life, full of the old- style tricks of playing the audience and consciousness of the audience. Later he made a compromise between intellect and emotion and came much closer to the then current vogue of simulating reality— a style of acting necessary for the successful presentation of the new social and realistic drama. He enjoyed great success .107. as an actor in this kind of drama as well as in 107 Shakespeare. Benson's acting roots were in the same tradition as those of Forbes-Robertson, When he was preparing himself to go on the stage, he studied eloqution with older actors such as Walter Lacey, who had acted professionally for many years with such performers as the Keans, Kembles, Macready, Glover and 1OR Young. There was, therefore, a similarity of back­ ground, It seems logical then, that Benson would choose as the successor to Irving the actor regarded by the members of his ovm profession as being an outstanding actor.

The Lyceum Season (I9OO)

It v/as to be ten years before Benson tried to con­ quer London once again. His season at the Globe had been a financial failure. It was rudely clear that London did not want him yet. He had been called provincial by the lofty London critics. Then to the provinces he would return. Ironically, the fact that he had appeared at the Globe, induced more of the first ranked provincial houses to offer dates. There was ample work to keep him occupied. There were new audiences to build, new towns to challenge and fresh plays to direct. He resolved to complete the Folio in performance. There would be new actors to train and new and better costumes and scenery 108. to collect so that the company could once again advance upon London in complete readiness. Benson had no idea at this point that when he next attempted London, pictorial Shakespeare, on a soale way beyond his means, would be the vogue.

The ten year interim between the London perfor­ mances of the Benson Shakespearean Company allowed for the evolution and solidification of the Benson philosophy of production and the recognition of that philosophy by several of the more astute members of the London literati. In an article by Sidney Lee in the May, I9OO issue of "Cornhill Magazine" five principles guiding Benson's work were listed and put into proper perspec­ tive. Lee felt that while these principles had been ignored, unwisely disregarded; they were matters of urgent public interest and could not be too often pressed on public notice. They weret (1) it is to the benefit of the nation that Shakespeare's plays should be acted constantly and in their variety; (2) a theatrical manager who undertakes to produce Shakespearean drama should change his program at frequent inter­ vals, and should permit no long continuous run of any single play; (3) all the parts, whatever their signi­ ficance, should be entrusted to exponents who have been trained in the delivery of blank verse, and 109.

have gained some knowledge and exper­ ience of the range of the Shakespearean drama ; (4 ) no play should be adapted by the manager so as to give greater promi­ nence than the text invites to any single roles} and (5) the scenic embellishment should be simple and inexpensive, and subordi­ nate to the dramatic interest. Lee expressed the opinion that these principles were not novel. They had been accepted by Betterton, Garrick, Edmund Kean, the Kembles, and notably by Phelps. They were accepted in the contemporary theatres of France and

Germany. Because the audiences of London, for a generation or more, had considered these principles to be outdated, true Shakespearean lovers had been the losers. No extended series of Shakespearean dramas had been presented of late on the London stage. The occasional single play revivals, expensively over produced, were burdened by the liabilities of the modern system of production and therefore Shakespearean production was dangerously near being banished from the stages of London. A return to these discarded principles, practiced in the nineteenth century up to the time of Charles Kean, seemed imperative

This article, written at the end of Benson's engagement at the Lyceum, succinctly outlined the Benson purpose. It focused attention on the ideology 110, that v/as the motivating force behind Benson's work.

Although he would never state it as well himself publicly, it v/as the direction in which his work moved during the 1890'So Some consideration has been given to the evolution of spectacularism from Macready and Kean, through Irving, to Tree, The popularity of this produc­ tion concept in Shakespearean revival with the London audiences has been made evident. In discussing London's theatrical climate around I9OO, Odell says : Elaborateness was the order of the day. This convention Tree, especially, accepted with implicit belief in its effectiveness. Today we discredit such procedure. With us the play's the first thing, and we must give all of it that decorum allows, or the order of scenes selected by the poet himself, and with the minimum sacrifice of any element of the original conception. Scenery, if used, must be simple and unobtrusive ; preferably the stage should be undecorated and Elizabethan, At the end of Irving's career, signs of this spirit appeared. The most notable within the years we are considering was the incursion into London of Mr, F,R, Benson, who introduced his repertoire company, from the provinces, at the Lyceum on February 15, I9OO— at the very turn of the century, Mr, Benson had, as we Icnov/, started at the Globe in I889-9O with quite different ideals, but his appearance was as a challenge to all preceding principles. No one maintained that the actors, Mr, Benson included, were individually good; in fact, the critics called him amateurish. But they at least produced several plays of Shakespeare not acted for many years, and a few of the players of this and succeeding years— Mr, , Miss Ill,

Lily Brayton, Mr. and Mr. Mat.heson Lang— have forged ahead to the front places of the profession.1^0

Neither Benson nor Mrs. Benson make any direct statements in their memoirs about a change in ideals as Mr. Odell seems to indicate. Benson was still interest­ ed in the establishment of repertory in London. He claimed that his failure to adjust "the difficulties arising from establishing a repertoire season for a public accustomed to long runs" was one of the reasons 111 the company did not do well at the box office. What these changes in ideals were, must be deduced from the circumstances of Benson's life during the ten years between London engagements.

The implied changes might possibly be related to Benson's change in attitude concerning his position in

London. In I890 he still had visions of becoming a moving force in the London theatre. His attempts had not been successful. By I9OO, the success of his Festival appearances at Stratford had been established, and his reputation in the provinces was firmly estab­ lished. Perhaps he had realized that all of England was to be his stage, rather than a specific stage in London. London had become just another step on his tour schedule. His devotion to the continual production of Shakespeare's 112.

plays had grown. He had decided to produce all of the

Bard's producible plays: "whilst in due course we were the first to achieve the notable feat of playing the 112 whole list of Shakespeare's plays." The number of Bensonians who had gone on to prominence in London had grown. He was quite proud of the fact that sixty-eight of his former associates were playing important parts

in the London theatres by the year 1920.^^^ He used this statistic in his memoirs as evidence of the quality of the company during the Lyceum season. Thus,

his attitude had become one of merely exhibiting his work and promulgating his philosophy, as it was so aptly delineated by Lee. This represented quite a

change from his attitude when he approached London in

1889.

And so Benson came to London once again. He had leased the Lyceum while Irving was on tour in America.

Early in the new year of I9OO, the Bensonians assembled at the Lyceum to rehearse for their February Ij? opening of Henry V. This Lyceum was not quite the same place

young Paris had entered in 1882. It looked the same, playgoers approached its doors with the same feeling— that it was a national playhouse— but conditions were

• 1 different, Irving's latest appearance, in his

son's translation of Sardou's Robespierre. had been a 113. failure. His cash reserves depleted by the replacement of his vast stores of scenery and costumes which had been destroyed by fire, Irving had sold his interests in the Lyceum to a syndicate. Tree's opulent productions at the new Her Majesty's Theatre were in high fashion, Benson did not mind. For him the season undoubtedly fulfilled a dream of twenty years to play the Lyceum as ac tor-manager 0

Irving was not the only one who had faced near ruin by fire. Early in the morning of November 24, 1899i the Theatre Royal at Newcastle-on-Tyne burned to the ground. In the theatre was the majority of the scenery and costume collection that Benson had been building up over the past years. His loss, nearly 5000 pounds, was not covered by insurance, Benson went to London to see what he could do about rounding up makeshift costumes and sets. The producers of London helped as much as they could. Many of them, especially Irving, sent baskets of little used costumes and some set pieces. The members of the company worked tirelessly to replace the costumes that had been destroyed. All energies were devoted to­ ward preparing the company for its London appearance some twelve weeks hence. 114,

There was less animosity toward the company than there had been at the time of the Globe appearance, Some of the older actors remembered their grudge, but the younger members of the profession respected Benson and knew what his training could mean to the developing actor. There was still a great clamor about muscle bound athletes, London was confident that it was seeing a school and a cricket school at that. What had begun as a joke had become identified as established truth, a fact not to be helped when dealt with the subject in his review of Henry V , There were still the smug comments on the company's provincial origins, and these would have their effect on the metropolitan audiences. But the company stuck together and the box office business at first was good— rememberance of Benson's loss at Newcastle brought sympathisers,

Benson could not have chosen his opening production, Henry V , more astutely. The Boer War had begun the October before, and the tide of nationalism was running high. The audience was kind, the press fairly so.

The Times thought Benson as Prince Hal "hardly robust enough,I,(There is too much sense of effort in his performance, and he does not alv/ays keep to the words as closely as their beauty demands,The Illustrated

London News said: 115.

Indeed, judged by his initial venture, Mr. Benson's gallant enterprise (he posi­ tively promises seven of the bard's plays in the course of a couple of months) is likely to be distinguished by some capital merits--a fairly religious treatment of the text, and avoidance of scenic extravagance, and a general standard of earnest and respectable acting.

The one review of the opening production that overshadows all the others is the one by Max Beerbohm. It would do Benson more harm than its author could ever have imagined. This review, printed in The Saturday

Review, appeared on February 24, I9OO t Mr. P.R. Benson is an Oxford man, and he is in the habit of recruiting his company from his university. Insomuch that, according to the Daily Chronicle, 'the influence of university cricket has been seen in the cricket fields of many provincial towns visited by Mr. Benson's company, as well as that of university culture on the boards of the local theatres. In the summer months cricket by day and dramatic art in the evening is a rule which he follows as far as possible.' A delightful existence! The stumps are drawn, the curtain is rung up. All day long the sun shines while Mr. Benson and his merry men wring from the neighborhood respectful admiration of university cricket. But, when the shadows of the wickets lengthen across the pitch, the call-boy appears, and the tired but victorious mimes go to doff their flannels and to don the motley. I repeat, a delight­ ful existence! But one cannot help wondering what Mr. Vincent Crummies would have thought of it. 'Trace the influence of university cricket and university culture on histrionic art at the close of the nineteenth century' is likely to be a favorite question when the Drama, at length, gets its chartered academy, with power to 116. set examination papers. University culture imbues the mime with some sense of blank verse, and saves him from solecisms in pronunciation. University cricket keeps his body in good training, enables him to move on the stage with the more agility and to posture with the more grace. In the old days, before the cult of athletics, and before acting was regarded as a genteel art, the strolling mimes were mostly illiterate and mostly fat. They knew little of anything but their art, and they spent their days in drinking, and smoking, and talking about their performances. They were not gentlemen, and as men they were very poor creatures indeed, vastly inferior to their successors. But as artists? That is another matter. The better man is not necessarily the better mime, nor does even gentility carry one very far in art. Art is a mysterious thing, in which cads and weak­ lings may often excel, and gentlemanly ath­ letes may often fail. The old strollers lived a life of degradation; but it does not follow that their excess in alcohol and nicotine hurt them as mimes. The new strol­ lers play cricket and other games, and are healthy reputable fellows ; but they do not necessarily act the better for that. Indeed, I should say (though it is a hard saying) that the old method was better than the new. The art of acting, more even than any other art, demands that the artist live on his nerves: the more highly strung his nerves, the better he will act. The old stroller, living a sedentary life and indulging overmuch in stimulants, was a bundle of nerves. The new stroller is a bundle of muscles. Of course, as I have suggested, muscles are very good for a mime to have. The ideal mime would be a bundle of nerves and muscles. But alas I the two things do not go together, and nerves are infinitely the more important of the two. The old stroller would cut a sorry figure on the cricket pitch : he would muff all his catches and be bowled out first ball. But on the wooden boards, behind the footlights, he seems to us more admirable than the members of Mr. Benson's eleven— company. 11 < •

I mean. Alertness, agility, grace, physical strength --all these good attributes are obvious in the mimes who were, last week, playing Henry the Fifth at the Lyceum. Every member of the cast seemed in tip-top condition— thoroughly 'fit'. Subordinates and principals all worked well together. The fielding was excellent, and so was the batting. Speech after speech was sent spinning across the boundry, and one was con­ stantly inclined to shout 'Well played, sir! Well played indeed!' As a branch of univer­ sity cricket, the whole performance was, indeed beyond praise. But, as a form of acting, it was not impressive. No one of the parts was played with any distinction....It was simply what the dramatic critics call 'adequate*, meaning 'inadequate'. Now, there are some Shakespearean plays of which 'ade­ quate' performances are tolerable. But Henry the Fifth is not one of them. It should be done brilliantly, splendidly, or not at all. Only the best kind of acting, and the best kind of production, could make it anything but tedious.

This piece would serve for a long time as a handy text for attacks on Benson, his company, and his methods. It hurt a little at the time, but was a delayed source of much of the unkind humor which capitalized on Benson's penchant for the athletic, a humor that caused him great pain later on.

When this essay appeared, Benson was already in the midst of his revival of A Midsummer Night's Dream. According to a program note, the production was "as produced at the Globe Theatre, I890," The play was generally well received. The Illustrated London News 118.

said that Benson's production compared "not unfavorably with the grand performances at Her Majesty's." When comparing the visual spectacle, Benson lost out to Tree, but the critic acknowledged that "a policy of

short runs does not allow for magnificent spectacle," Still, "adequate mounting, carefully thought-out business, a graceful band of dancing child-sprites,"

indicated approval. One advantage this production had over Tree's was "its more vivacious rendering of the 11R comic interludes." The Standard considered it bold to produce the play while Tree's "admirable representa­ tion" of the same piece was playing at Her Majesty's Theatre. After praising several of the actors and ac­

tresses, this reviewer concluded that "the representation as a whole, is highly enjoyable. It had been con­ sidered a mistake by many for Benson to even attempt his production of this play against the scenic magnifi­ cence of Beerbohm Tree's production at the Her Majesty's Theatre. Tree had opened his Dream just a few weeks before, and London theatre goers were agog over the spectacle and the live rabbits scampering around the most arboreal of Athenian woods. A note found on a program for Benson's production, located in the Benson file in the Enthoven Collection, said: "Excellent, far better than Tree's— well balanced and complete." 119.

The third play of Benson's season caused much excitement in London: his revival of the complete Hamlet, first done in Stratford the season before, Odell credits Benson with introducing an entirely new princi­ ple of presenting Shakespeare as written— with the maximum of text possible— at the end of a century that had devoted as many of its hundred years to "driving the bastard stage versions of the dramatist from public view," He credits Benson's having less scenery to manipulate as the reason for Benson's ability to retain more of the text, Odell draws a parallel between Bayreuth and its productions of Wagner and Benson's entire Hamlet, The production was presented in two sessions. The first session ran from 3*30 to 6 ,30, 120 the second from 8 to 11 o'clock.

The critical reaction to the play v/as not very affirmative. The Athenaeum of March 10 said that the play held "a certain academic interest" because it was a production of an unabridged version of the play. The play was dealt with "fairly and squarely" and there v/as a certain pleasure derived from the "restitution of passages never previously heard upon the stage," The reviewer called Benson a "colourless and uninspiring Hamlet," while the rest of the characters were "feebly 120. portrayed" in general. The review concluded:

That it pays the expenditure of time in­ volved will scarcely be said...We can all of us read the whole of Hamlet at our ease and leisure, and the amount of illumina­ tion afforded is not sufficient to justify the substitution of one's easy- chair for the crowning discomfort of a Lyceum stall, and the devotion to the theatre of what is practically the whole of a working day.^^l

Odell concludes his remarks by suggesting that while the performances were not good, they were the first based on the theory that Shakespeare should be produced as written, not as adapted. He adds that this new concept has grown more accepted and has become the 122 attitude of many recent managers.

One other comment that undoubtedly made Benson happy, especially because it was directly related to one of his five principles, came from The Times. After commenting that Benson had a tendency to be a violent and explosive Hamlet— forgetting that Hamlet was a "sweet prince" the reviewer commended the manner in which the cast handled the blank verse : "All have been taught to speak blank verse with intelligence; and that is much to be thankful for."^^^

Apparently, Richard II. re-costumed with so many pains, was the highlight of the season. It had been 121, nearly half a century cince Mac road;, ' :: revival, London, mildly disbelieving, had licard of h, neon's p.'rformance. Charles Edward Montague had written in Th" Manchester

Guardian of December 4, I899, one of the most famous theatre essays ever written. Its :;ubjoct was Benson's Richaid II:

In him every other feeling is master, except at a few passing moments, by a passion of interest in the exercise of his gift of exquisite responsiveness to the appeal made to his artistic sensibility by whatever life throws for the moment in his way. Lamb said it was worth while to have been cheated of the legacy so as not to miss 'the idea o f the rogue v/ho did it. That, on a little scale, is the kind of aesthetic dis­ interestedness which in Shakespeare's Richard, rightly presented by Mr, Benson, passes all bounds. The 'idea o f a king's fall, the 'idea o f a wife and husband torn apart, the 'idea o f a very crucifixion of indignities— as each new idea comes he revels in his own warmed and lighted appre­ hension of it as freely as in his apprehension of the majesty and mystery of the idea of a kingship by divine right. He runs out to meet the thought of a lower fall or a new shame as a man might go to his door to see a sunset or a storm. It has been called the aim of artistic culture to witness things with appropriate emotions. That is this Richard's aim. Good news or bad news, the first thing with him is to put himself in the right vein for getting the fullest and most poignant sense of its contents. Is ruin the word— his mind runs to steep itself in relevant pathos with which in turn to saturate the object put before it ; he will 'talk of graves and epitaphs', 'talk of wills', 'tell sad stories of the death of kings', Once in the vein, he rejoices like a good artist who has caught the spirit of his subject. The very sense of loss of hope becomes 'that sweet way I was 122.

in to despair'• To his wife at their las I meeting he bequeaths, as one imaginative writer might bequeath to another some trea­ sure of possibilities of tragic effect, 'the lamentable tale of me'. To this intoxicating sense of the beauty or poignancy of what is next to him he joins the true passion of concern for its perfect expression.,,.Nothing in Mr. Benson's performance was finer than the king's air, during the mirror soliloquy, as of a man going about his mind's engrossing business in a solitude of its own making. He gave their full value, again, to all those passages, so enigmatic, if not ludicrous, to strictly prosaic minds, in which Richard's craving for finished expression issues in a joining of words with figurative action to point and eke them out.,.

In an earlier portion of this review, Montague had stated that Benson, "an actor faulty in some other ways," was alv/ays picturesque, romantic, inventive, with an excellent sensibility to beauty in words and siutations. He felt that critics had not given Benson credit for accomplishing the amazing feat of placing "the capable and faithful artist in the same skin as the incapable and unfaithful King." Thus, Benson and

Richard had become fused into one essence, with Benson bringing the "appropriate reality" that made Richard a living, breathing human being. Benson's Richard reacted, responded, felt as a human being really would, catching "the spirit of his subject," It was this total fusion of Benson the actor and Richard the character from the 123. printed page into one essence that undoubtedly impressed

Montague, He continues: There was just one point— perhaps it was a mere slip— at which Mr. Benson seemed to us to fail. In the beginning of the scene at Pomfret what one may call the artistic heroism of this man, so craven in every­ thing but art, reaches its climax. Ruined, weary, with death waiting in the next room, he is shown still toiling at the attainment of a perfect, because perfectly expressed, apprehension of such dregs as are left him of life, still following passionately on the old quest of the ideal world, the unique image, the one perfect way of saying the one thing. 'I cannot do it; yet I’ll hammer it out,’ Everybody knows that cry of the artist wresting with the angel in the dark for the word it will not give, of Balzac ’ply­ ing the pick for dear life, like an entombed miner,’ of our own Stevenson, of Flaubert ’sick, irritated, the pray a thousand times a day of cruel pain,’ but ’continuing my labour like a true working man, vfho, with sleeves turned up, in the sweat of his brow, beats away at his an­ vil, whether it rain or blow, hail or thunder.’ That ’yet I’ll hammer it out’ is the gem of the whole passage, yet on Saturday Mr. Benson, by some strange mischance, left the words clean out. He made amends with a beautiful little piece of insight at the close, where, after the lines Mount, mount, my soulI Thy seat is up on high. Whilst my gross flesh sinks down­ ward, here to die, uttered much as any other man might utter them under the first shock of the immi­ nence of death, he half rises from the ground with a brightened face and repeats the two last words v/ith a sudden return of animation and interest, the eager spirit leaping up with a last flicker 124.

before it goes quite out, to seize on the new 'idea o f the death of the body. Greater love of art could no man have than this, and, if we understand him rightly, it was a brilliant thought of Mr. Benson's to end on such a note.124

Montague had expressed earlier in the review the opinion that the artist has a heightened and delighted personal sense of fact, "a knack of seeing visions at the instance of seen things." Obviously, from the tone of this description of Benson's handling of the omission, the reviewer felt that Benson had realized this gift of the true artist with a "brilliant thought." For Montague, this performance must have been one of those rare aesthetic encounters experienced much to rarely by the sensitive theatre-goer.

Other words of praise for this performance came from the London critics as well. Spenser Wilkinson, in The Morning Post, had to admit that it was all but a triumph : It wants but one thing— an important thing certainly— to take its rank among the finest Shakespearean impersonations of the modern English stage. The one thing need­ ful is a tear....One in Mr. Benson's eye or in his voice, and half the house would have given way. But it is just this tear that is beyond Mr. Benson's reach.125

According to Allardyce Nicoll, as the end of the century approached the public was "clamouring for realism." 125.

Some critics felt that the authors of this type of drama were getting into ruts, afraid of offending Clement Scott on the one extreme, or Shaw on the other.To those who truly recognised the spirit of the time, however, there could be no doubt. Max Beerbohm suggests that the main current of the time was that "of realistic modern 127 comedy and tragedy." '

The 1890's saw other movements in the aesthetic interest of the time. One of these was the development of the new comedy of wit. Nicoll credited with bringing this kind of comedy to the fore with The Importance of Being Earnest. Wilde's earlier plays, according to Nicoll, had found their basis in the works of Jones and Pinero. But with Earnest, he stepped outside of their influence and dipped back into the comedic techniques of the eighteenth century. Wilde was not creating illusion, he was creating an oppor­ tunity to indulge his wit. His devices, according to Hudson, were borrowed from Sheridan. The dropped fan, the stolen letter, the indiscreet wife concealed from her jealous husband, the surprise revelation of hidden identity, all had been seen before. Wilde had entered the field of drama only to make money, not because he felt 12R it a "necessity of his nature," Here, then, was no attempt to preach, influence thought, or reform except 126. through comic satire. It was a chance to cause people to laugh and enjoy.

Hudson describes the vast majority of playgoers of the 1890's as going to the theatre to feel and not to think. The theatre was "the place of light and sound, of mystery and magic,There was an indifference to a drama's thought and purpose. As the century drew to a close the "play was not the thing," The attraction of the theatre became spectacle and the performer. Audiences went to see Irving and Terry, to see Forbes- Robertson not Hamlet, I t is easy to understand, if this were indeed the case, why spectacle and stars worked together to attract audiences.

If the audiences did indeed seek to feol rather than to think, then Nicoll's comments about the renewed interest in the poetic drama, primarily Shakespeare, became important. Plays based on romantic legends or historical figures by such men as Stephen Phillips,

Tennyson, and others 5 the cloak-and-sword plays with all of their flamboyant adventure 5 Eind the plays of Shake­ speare "created a mood different from and larger than that provided by Jones and Pinero,Tastes differed; the purposes for producing plays differed both in the audience's reaction and in the playwrights and/or 12?.

producers reasons for presenting them.

Consequently, it is easier to understand Beerbohm's

review of Henry V . If he championed the cause of modern, realistic drama, then Shakespeare would not be his pleasure. If he belonged to that portion of the audience for whom the educative elements of the drama and the performances of star personalities were most important, then he would not appreciate the efforts— good, bad, or indifferent—

of the provincial company. Undoubtedly, Beerbohm was used to seeing top-notch, carefully rehearsed, spectacular drama, Benson's makeshift production, fire or no fire, would be most unimpressive. On the other hand, Montague was obviously made to feel what conflicts there were inherent in the character of Richard II, and Benson, provincial or not, was the actor who made him aware of the full meaning of the play and depicted the futility of the deposed King,

As the season progressed, some of Benson's friends had to admit that both the theatre and the time selected were unfortunate. The name of the theatre itself, with all its associations with the Irving legend implied scenic magnificence. That this was a time of lavish scenic

display has been established, Shakespeare and spectacle were inseparable. And here was Frank Benson at the 128.

Lyceum, with all its traditions, performing makeshift productions, good enough for the provinces, but not for the London public. They might cast an eye of pity on his losses from fire, but they could go to Her Majesty's Theatre and see Shakespeare mounted as it, according to many, should be.

But the season went on. Twelfth Night was the fifth play of Shakespeare's to be staged. Individual actors received praise for their performances, but the production was not considered particularly startling or different. Benson's drew some praise on its dryness. The Times, however, felt that Benson failed to realize the fact that Malvolio was essentially a comic 112 character. He was too austere and chilling,

The final plays, Antony and Cleopatra and The Tempest were the most pictorial. The Morning Post when speaking of Antony and Cleopatra, was generally satisfied with the mounting of the play, but objected to a portrait that hung on the Queen's wall with "the beautiful Antony" written beneath it in Greek characters as if Cleopatra were afraid she might forget his name.

The critic seemed baffled by the acting. He found

Benson's Antony interesting but strained, "taking his pleasures sadly— one might almost say bitterly," which 129. is a rather modern view of the role, Mrs. Benson's Cleopatra was "hysterical, but only after the manner of the pampered parlour boarder.The Times said Benson played Caliban in The Tempest "with all of the gusto and athletic prowess he could muster," While describing Benson's antics in the role, the reviewer took great delight in describing Benson's tree climbing antics complete with a fish in his mouth. His general reaction v/as favorable, so impressed was he with the athletic energy. A note, found on a copy of the program in the Enthoven Collection file on Benson in the Victoria and Albert Museum, merely says "dreadful" beside his name on the program.

When the Lyceum season was first announced, it was to last eight weeks. Benson had arranged that the season be conducted on a season ticket basis for the series of plays. This approach made advertising much easier. The pre-season bookings were excellent for the 1 "a t; whole eight weeks. Benson recounted that the expense of producing eight plays in eight weeks together with the loss incurred by the fire prevented any adequate margin of profit. However, Benson flushed with the modicum of success he had enjoyed during these first eight weeks, extended the run for four more. This he had done against the advice of all his friends. Now 130.

that there were no season ticket holders, and the company v/as playing through the Lenten season, there was a sharp decline in the box office. It was only through a gen­ erous loan from Ctho Stuart that the season was carried

through to its advertised end,^^^

The playgoing public of London had been cool to

Benson, After the first wave of sympathy over his losses as a result of the fire, the houses must have slackened

off, Benson, himself, considered the season a financial

loss.^^^ There had been a modest artistic success, especially for his performers, many of whom went on to greater fame elsewhere. Several writers, however,

recognized what Benson was trying to do, Sidney Lee's article, already quoted, is typical. Written at the end

of Benson's engagement at the Lyceum, it listed the five points of the Bensonian creed. In addition to mentioning these points Lee replied to Max Beerbohm: "Shakespearean actors should be graduates in Shakespeare's university. Unlike graduates of other universities, they should master not merely formal knowledge, but a flexible power

for using it," Hamilton Fyfe buttressed this viewpoint

in an article in The Fortnightly Review of May, I9OO, Why was it, he asked, that London audiences could enjoy a

repertory season for only a few weeks? "Every time we visit a Continental capital, even a small Continental 131. town, we feel a prick of amazement and regret.

The Comedy Theatre Season (I9OO-I9OI)

"Impoverished, tut undaunted," Benson, together with a gentleman named Harold Large, set to work to organize The National Drama Company. They began with a capital of six thousand pounds, two thousand of which was paid for good will, scenery, wardrobe, and effects They toured through the summer and fall and then opened a new Shakespeare season in London on December I9 , I9OO. The Benson group was to perform at the Comedy Theatre 0 But something was wrong. The Comedy was occupied by a group of German players. Large had agreed to share the theatre with the Germans from December I9 , I9OO until

April 9» 1901. The program included eight plays, each to be given for two weeks, on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday evenings and Saturday afternoons. This had undoubtedly come about because of the expense of renting the theatre and The National Drama Company's limited funds. The season opened with The Merry Wives of Windsor on the appointed date. Notices were moderate, rather a rehash of what had been said of the company during its Lyceum engagement.

Productions of The Taming of the Shrew. The

Merchant of Venice, and followed, to much 132.

the same reaction, Benson, it seemed, v/as dogged by- disaster, "The death of the Queen and the anxiety of

the Boer War reduced the inclination of the public for theatre-going to zero,"^^° (Queen Victoria died at

Osborne on January 22, I90I,)

When the theatre reopened after the inevitable

closure during the funeral and first mourning period, the seats were empty. The company had to cancel its planned production of Henry IV, Part 2 , The subject matter, the death of a king and the coronation of a prince, was not deemed suitable, was done in

its stead0 The play, with Genevieve Ward appearing as l4l Volumnia, enjoyed a considerable success. It was too late however: strength had drained from the company,

Benson was not well. He developed acute gastric trouble as a result of late work, skipped meals, and working through those meals he did take. He was compelled to go on a milk diet and get plenty of rest. He was also desperate for money. Continued losses had forced both he and Mrs, Benson to sell personal belongings— pictures, li+2 furniture, and silver— to keep the company going. The members of the company tried to help by forming themselves into a commonwealth and taking just what money they needed to survive. They kept the season alive until the date agreed upon before the engagement 133.

had begun» When the season closed, The National Drama Company came to an end, the shareholders "quite naturally 1^3 declining to cai-ry on at a loss."

This season accomplished little or nothing for Benson. It did not add to his recognition and prestige. It had been costly. He was in desperate financial straits.

He left London for Stratford and the Memorial celebrations. When Benson appeared on London stages in later years, these appearances were either in non-Shakespearean works

or as part of Shakespearean celebrations» He was never to return again as the actor-manager, devoted to Shake­ spearean revival, who wished to effect change in the London theatre— both onstage and among audiences. Gone were his dreams of becoming a primary force in the theatre of London. The challenge he thought Irving had put to him as many years before would go unanswered. He was now content with putting his principles to work in the provinces and at Stratford. Here he was wanted, he was loved, he did belong. FOOTNOTES

^Clunes, p, 133.

^Ibid., pp. 136-137.

^Nicoll, A History of the Late Nineteenth Century Drama; 1850-1900. p. 2

^The Era. January 26, 1895» P* 1?.

^Nicoll, p. 3 .

^Ibid.. p. 9 .

"^Ibid.. p. 8. Q "The Stage Under Victoria," The Theatre. November, I896, pp. 242-243.

^Nicoll, p. 13.

^^Nicoll quoting "The Stage and Its Critics" (Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, June, I898, pp. 87I- 874.), p. 13.

^^Ibid.. pp. 17-18.

^^Ibid.. p. 18.

^^Ibid.. p. 47.

11x Ibid.. p. 49.

^^Ibid.. p. 50.

13^. 135.

1 < m i d . , p. 52.

p. 21. 1 ' '"i Lewis Bettany, "Criticism and Renascent Drama," Tlic Theatre, XIX (June, I892), p. 277,

^^Nicoll, p. 22,

-'^Ibid.. p. 23.

^^Ibid.. p. 24.

^^Ibid.. p. 25.

^^George Odell, Shakespeare From Betterton to Irvine;, Vol. II (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1920), p. 371. 24 Hesketh Pearson, The Last Actor-Managers (London: Methuen and Co., Ltd., I950), p. 1.

^^Ibid.. p. 2 . 26 Donald Brook, A Paf^eant of Enp;lish Actors (London: Rockliff Publishing Corporation, Ltd., 1950), p. 234.

I ^"^Ibid.. p. 235. 28 William Winter, Vagrant Memories (New York: George H. Doran Company, 1915J, p. 355.

^^Brool:, p. 2 3 7 .

^°Ibid., p. 2 3 9 .

^^Ibid. , p. 2 4 2 .

^^Ibid.

^^Ibid. , P« 2 4 3 . 136.

Max Beerbohm (éd.), Herbert Beerbohm Tree (London: Hutchinson and Co., I920), pp. ly-19.

^^Brook, pp. 247-248.

^^Sir George Arthur, From Phelns to Gieloud (New York: Books for Libraries Press, I967), p. I3I'

37Pearson, p. 10.

38Beerbohm, pp. ix-x.

39Brook, p. 252,

40Blackwood's Magaz.ine. October, 1904.

Sir Frank Benson, Mv Memoirs (London: Ernest Benn Limited, I93O), p. I15.

^^Ibid. pp. 112-114.

43lbid. p. 115.

^^Ibid. p. 121.

^^Ibid. p. 125.

46lbid. p. 125.

4^Ibid. p. 127-128.

48ibld. p. 128.

49ibld. pp. 128-129.

^^ and Chr Terry's Memoirs (New 1932), p. 171.

^^J.C. Trewin, Benson and the Bensonians (London: Barrie and Rockliff, i960], p. 10. 137.

<2 Benson, p. 144,

^^Ibid,. p. 145.

3^Ibid.

^^Ibido. pp. 147-148,

5®Ibid,, p, 148,

^^Ibid.. po 146,

G°Ibid.

^^Ibid.. p, 149, 62 The Morning Post (London), July 11, 1881,

^^Benson, pp. 149-I50, 64 Ibid,. p, 151,

^■^Ibid,, pp, I62-I63,

**Ibid,. pp, I65-I68,

^^Ibid,. p. 170.

^^Ibid,. p, 173,

^^Ibid,. p, 172, f°Ibid.

71 Ellen Terry's Memoirs, p, I72, 138.

"^^Benson, pp. I72-I73,

' f^Ibid., p. 173.

T^Ibid.. p. 190.

’^^Ibid., p. 285.

T^Ibid.

7?Ibid.. p. 288.

. Po 170.

f^Ibid.. p. 288. fio Lady Benson, Mainly Players ; Bensonian Memories (London: Thornton Butterworth, Ltd., 1926), p. 80.

G^Ibid.

^^Stratford-on-Ayon Herald. April 27, 1888.

^^Stratford-on-Avon Herald. May 4, 1888.

Benson, p. 287.

^^Benson, p. 287.

^^Margo Jean Voltz, "Samuel Phelps' Interpretation of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Might's D r e a m '.' Unpublished Master's thesis, Columbus: The Ohio State University, 1968. 87 The Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic News, February 6 , I890.

^^Pall Mall Gazette, December 20, I889.

^^The Times (London), December 20, 1889. 139.

^^The Atenaeum. January 6, I89O.

^^The World (London), December 20, I889,

^^The Daily Telegraph (London), December 20, I889,

^^Benson, p= 152.

^^Ibid.. pp. I6I-I62.

^^Ibid., p. 288.

^^Ibid.. pp. 288-289.

9?lbid., p. 289.

^^The World, undated clipping, Benson file, Enthoven Collection, Victoria and Alber Museum, London, England.

^^^The Athenaeum. March I5, I89O. lot The Times (London), March ?, I890.

102 The Atenaeum. May 3» I89O.

^^^Benson, p. 29I.

^^^George 0. D. Odell, Shakespeare From Betterton to Irvine, Vol. II (New York; Charles Scribner's Sons, Ï92O), p. 371.

^Pearson, p. 7*

^^^Benson, p. 29I,

^^^Brook, p. 231,

^^^Benson, p. 154. 140.

^^^Sidney Lee, Cornhill Magazine. May, I900.

llOodell, p. 392. Ill Benson, p. 30?•

, p. 293.

ll^Ibid.. p. 307.

J.C, Trewin, Benson and the Bensoniar.s (London: Barrie and Rockliff, I96O), p. 108,

^^^The Times (London), February 16, I9OO. 116 The Illustrated London News, February 24, I900,

^^?The Saturday Review. February 24, I900, 1_ 1R Illustrated London News. March 3i I9OO, 119 The Standard (London), February 23, I900,

^^°Odell, p. 413.

121 The Athenaeum. March 10, I9OO,

^^^Odell, p. 413.

^^^The Times (London), March 2, I900. 124 The Manchester Guardian. December 4, I899. 12 4 The Morning Post (London), March 16, I900, A O Nicoll, A History of Late Nineteenth Century Drama. pp, I88-I89, I4l,

Saturday Review. July 2 8, I900, p. 112, 128 Hudson, pp. 99-100,

. p. 121,

^^°Ibid,. pp, 121-122,

^^^Nicoll, pp, 208-210,

Times (London), March 23, I900,

Morning Post (London), March 30, I900,

^^^The Times (London), April 6, I900,

^^^Lady Benson, p, 172,

^^^Benson, p, 306,

^^'^Ibid,. p, 307,

^^^The Fortnightly Review. May, I9OO,

^^^Benson, p, 308,

^^^Benson, p, 309,

l^libid,

^^^Ibid, l^^Ibid,. p, 308,

1 CHAPTER III

BENSON ON TOUR

J.C. Trewin, in an article in the Post and Gazette of November 4, 1958, the centenary of the birth of P.R. Benson, quoted on Benson's toursi

'There is no statue in London to Sir Prank Benson, and there ought not to be. If ever I am asked for a subscription for that purpose, I shall stipulate for a statue on wheels, to be kept outside London, hauled about the country, and stood for one month in each year in each of our twelve largest provincial towns.

The saga of the Benson tours is an interesting one. His life was primarily spent "on wheels." Prom 1882 until well into the I920's, Benson personally toured England,

Ireland, Scotland, South Africa, and North America; he also sent a company of his players to the West Indies.

When Benson left Oxford to go to London, he was beginning at the wrong end. He had not considered the necessity of serving an apprenticeship to the stage. He was unaware of the grind of travelling around the lesser provincial ruts; the difficulty of improvising in glum halls or corn exchanges; the problems of actors, under­ paid and battling though they might be, who did not show

142. 143. in their movements on stage and off that they belonged to a race branded with roguery and vagabondage. Unaware of having to change trains on a Sunday to make the next date, looking for "digs" in small towns where actors were frowned upon; he saw only Irving's challenge to refresh the stage, bring to it players supple in art and thought. He would, however, understand presently that his work must not be in metropolitan London as he imagined, but rather in the provinces from which he had come. There he could gain the experience he lacked, refine and shape his ideologies, and become realistically acquainted with all of the ramifications of his chosen profession.

His experience at Irving's Lyceum had been a chastening one. He had not been re-engaged for the next production, Irving had suggested he join a touring company, and so, in December of 1882, with the recommen­ dation of Irving, he joined, in Manchester, the Shake­ spearean company of Charles Bernard and Miss Alleyn, This engagement was to last only a few weeks, and he was to play only minor roles. When he joined the company, Benson, with what was at this point his usual lack of modesty, entertained hopes of moving to leading juvenile parts. These were not offered, and he protested to Mr, Bernard, Benson recalled his interview with Bernard: 144.

'Yes,' said Bernard; 'but you have hardly come up to the promise which at one time I thought you would show. I could not possibly give you such a part as Romeo until you have advanced further in knowledge and stage-technique. To be perfectly plain with you, your movements are angular and awkward; your elocution is most sing-songy and un­ natural; your gestures are ungraceful and ill-timed. My advice to you is to leave the stage. Good morning.' I thought that I was hardly used, and said so. In reality it was about the best lesson I ever had in my life.2

On Tour with the Bentley Company

Instead of leaving the stage, however, Benson joined another of the touring Shakespeare companies, run by an actor named Walter Bentley. This company toured the tarnished second theatres and halls where actors would move from a stage palace to an unheated, candle­ lit alcove.3 Here, in profusion, were the drunks, sparrows, rats, and snow recommended by Mrs. Stirling.

Bentley was the son of Dr. Begg, Moderator of the United Presbyterian Church of Scotland. He v/as a tall and swaggering man with good looks and great sociability. He had starred in Scotland in most of the principal stock characters. Scottish playgoers admired him as actor and manager more than his players did. He had played a season with Irving under Mrs. Batemen's Lyceum management, There, in January 1877, he had had a tumultuous welcome 145.

Figure 3 Frank Benson as Hamlet, I890 146» as Clarence in Richard III. The next day Irving strategically and severely cropped the part, an action for which Bentley never forgave him. Bentley had however, brought together a capital company. Benson, upon joining it, met for the first time the low comedian George Weir (who would be his faithful friend for a quarter of a century), Henry Jalland (who would later become his manager), and other actors such as William Mollison, John Glendenning, and T,J. Merridew.

Benson joined the company at Stirling on March 26, 1883, the first of six nights at the Stirling Town Hall Arcade. At rehearsal he wore a shapeless covert-coat, a deplorable brown "wideawake" hat set on tossled hair, and leather shoes that looked rather shapeless and shabby, but which were near and dear to his heart since he had walked from Oxford to London in them in one night. The company decided that he had either been disowned by his family, or that he was a fugitive from justice. He looked so deplorable, that one actress in- 4 vited him to dinner so that he could have a good meal.

Bentley had not attended the day's rehearsal, and so, Benson had the misfortune of meeting his new manager for the first time on stage that evening. The play was Hamlet. Bentley, of course, was in the title role, and Benson was Rosencrantz. Neither knew their lines well. Rosencrantz, wearing a straggly yellow wig, v/as greeted in a loud aside with: "What the hell have you got on your "blasted head? Get off the stage and change it," Recalling that night, Benson said: "Dramatic impression made that evening distinctly minus,

His performance on the second night v/as rather better. He played Sir Frederick Blount in Money wearing an excellent single-breasted, long skirted brown frock coat, and attempted a "colourful imitation of Bancroft as a fashionable heavy," The events of the third night’s performance are recorded as follows: The next night I made further progress in my stage reputation by dashing on in a scene with the manager as a wild Irishman in Still Waters Run Deep, I had never been in Ireland, and this was before the days of Yeats and Moore, Pagan and Sean O'Casey, and the many sons of the Emerald Isle who have enriched our stage by their acting and authorship in recent years. I therefore accepted without any qualification or question, the stage caricature of a 'typical Irishman'— hat brushed the wrong way, dishevelled hair, flaming sidewhiskers, brilliant green tie with loose ends always flapping in the wind, fly-away frock-coat unbuttoned, red waist coat cut very low, displaying a voluminous shirt- front with one stud doing duty for three, radiant trousers of loudest pattern, with a generous display of somewhat untidy spats and large boots. Added to this, I sought to con­ ceal my ignorance of the mellifluous brogue by a generous interpolation of 'shura' and 'begorra' on every occasion, possible and impossible. By this time I had learned not to wait for cues, and to be grateful for such scraps of dialogue as the star condescended 148.

to hand out to me. Whether it was the Hampshire, North Country, or broken French that did duty for the Irish accent, or whether it was the superabundant muscular energy with which I raced round the stage, the still waters were tempestuously stirred to their depths. The star manager was completely flabbergasted, and stood watching the new man in amused aston- - ishment. Regardless of cues, which I did not get, I pounded out my sentences in a resistless, continuous flow, banged off my exit at the wrong door, and was rewarded with rounds of applause from the audience: result with the company, jealous apprehension and questioning judgments as to the amount of my dramatic ability, I went to bed that night comparatively pleased with myself,°

The fourth night Benson played Glavis in The Lady of Lyons, He had played the role before and, therefore, was rather successful in his performance. However, the events of the fifth night were memorable and resulted in Benson*s being summoned before Bentley the next morning, Benson records the memories of that performance: Next night there came a frost— 'a killing frost*— brought about by my efforts to make love to the leading lady in a Scottish accent. It is a difficult job to make love on the stage, with any convincing effect, even for actors of long experience, and that night it proved far beyond my powers, I thought that I was doing it well, poor lad; but was quickly disillusioned by rude remarks from the gallery that no decent lassie would listen to such a gawk; that I had better study the Scots language before I burlesqued it on their stage. They were not sure that I could speak the Sassenach dialect correctly; but, in any case, I had better take the next train back to the habitation of that uncouth and barbarous people. The leading lady, with great presence of mind, rose from the rustic seat on which we were seated and led me off the stage. 149.

murmuring: ’My father wadna abide ye, an’ me mitner wants me at hame,’ Derisive cheers from the audience; tearful abuse from the heroine for having spoilt her best scene; impression on the company— minus.f

During the next morning’s interview with Bentley, Benson v/as told that he should take a little more care with his make-up. Furiously, Benson replied that, manager or no manager, he would not be insulted as he had been on the stage at the first performance, Bentley, weak with laughter, repeated that a knowledge of make-up and acting technique would often help an artist. And he added: "If you wear that yellow wig again, there isn’t

Q a management on God’s earth that wouldn’t insult you."

Benson Enters Management

The Bentley Company's spring tour continued playing in , Paisley, and Edinburgh. When they moved to Cupar in Fife, rumors were rampant that the manager was almost out of money. The company had been booked in Cupar for six performances beginning on a Monday. They were to play at the only theatre, an unused Free Church in South Union Street, renamed the Union Street Hall. Bentley, who had not played the last perfor­ mance of the Edinburgh date, was reported to be ill with an actue catarrh of the stomach. Later that week, the Fife Herald elaborated a little more, saying that 150.

i Bentley had been ordered by his medical advisor to take g a rest in the South of France.^ Friday was treasury day and the company wondered whether or not they would be paid. The Wednesday before, they had learned that Bentley had taken a ship to Australia, The rent of Union Street Hall had not been paid and George Innes, an owner, locked up the properties as security. It was under these circumstances that Frank Benson rescued the company whose hopes were in shreds and entered the field of theatre management.

Benson had listened to the rumors and decided to take advantage of what promised to be a grand opportunity.

He had wired his father in Alresford and announced that a hundred pounds might help him to take over an exceptional company. William Benson responded with the requested funds, a response that was to be repeated many times in the

^ . 10 future 0

The anxious actors, eagerly awaiting their pay on that fateful Friday, had about given up hope when Benson appeared with the money from his father's check. He had the salary list, which amounted to thirty pounds, in hand and settled the matter at once. With the remainder of the funds he proceeded to arrange performances in Airdie for the next week. He purchased from Bentley's creditors the costume collection, swords, and sets for the sum of 151. one hundred and ten pounds, A few purchases in supplemented Bentley's sets. The thirty baskets that formed the nucleus of the costume collection were designed to cover most of the Shakespeare plays, Rob Roy, Richelieu. and the Old Comedies, They were an odd mixture but they served. The designs were somewhat confused as to period, Shakespeare was divided roughly into two divisions--Venetian, shirts of any pattern up to 15^0 , and then trunks, doublets, and so forth for Elizabethan and early Stuart, The intervening period between this and old comedy squarecuts was to a certain extent bridged by a very good set of Louis XIII dresses. 11

The company, under its new manager, finished dates at Airdie, Alloa, Alva, and Falkirk, Scottish audiences stayed away in large numbers. This resulted in Squire Benson sending about fifty pounds a fortnight to keep the 12 company going.

The net loss on the tour, including the money spent on scenery, costumes, properties, and the like, amounted to about four hundred and fifty pounds. In Benson's mind it didn't matter. There would be time to get it back. The important thing was that the fellowship of the Bensonians had been born under his management Now it was on to planning the next season. Forward to the theories, the ideals, the mission. 152.

The "Meiningen System" and Rehearsal Discipline

During the first few years of Benson's management,

the phrase "conducted on the Meiningen system" appeared on his programs. Now at the helm of his own company, he could bring into play this theory that he had been introduced to during 1881, That summer he had seen the company of the Court Theatre of Meiningen at Drury Lane in Julius Caesar. Schiller's Wilhelm Tell, and The Winter's

Tale. These players, directed by George, Duke of Saxe- Meiningen, and his morganatic wife Ellen Franz the actress, had established a reputation for their realistic

production of historical plays, and for crowd scenes rehearsed almost to the intake of a breath. Some play­ goers found it all too calculated— "mosaic work wrought

in hard labour and conscious of the toil"— but most people appreciated the complex pattern, the variety of the effects, the relation of a setting and the player's movements within that setting, and the dramatic impact of a crowd in v/hich every unit was a well defined per- sonality, ' The Duke of Saxe-Meiningen had been influenced

by the historical realism of the school of English acting and the historical realism represented by Macready, Charles Kean, and Phelps. He wanted, however, to abolish 153.

star performances that could overwhelm the totality of

the productions, and to replace them by a dedication to the details of an intricate and complete stage picture-- a devotion to ensemble playing.

Benson was impressed with the idea of the concerted

scenes and the fact that, when required, every actor and actress in the company had to join the crowd no matter what their rank in the company. He turned eagerly

to this system as the guiding directorial principle of his own company. Everybody, he proclaimed with relish, would have to "super" when asked— burdened as he was with

the responsibilities of management and major roles, he rarely had time for it himself— and the company endured hour upon hour of minutely watched rehearsal, both before and during a second tour that opened in August I883 under "Mr. F.R. Benson, from the Lyceum Theatre, London," at

the Drill Hall in Ulverston.^^

The discovery was soon made that these methods and theories were impractical for a small touring company with limited means. He modified his thinking as the years rolled by and he gained in experience, but he never forgot the Meiningen theory completely. It remained at least in his subconscious, and from time to time bits and pieces of it were to appear in his productions. 154. especially those containing large crowd scenes. Evidence of this fact can be found when examining a promptbook of a production of Julius Caesar.

Julius Caesar was first introduced into the Benson repertoire during the tour of I89O. This was early enough in his managerial career that the Meiningen in­ fluence, even remembrances of the Court Theatre's performance of the same play, seen in 1881, could linger in his mind and influence his own production. All of Benson's early promptbooks, including the original promptbook of this production, were destroyed in the Newcastle fire of 1899? the promptbook notes used in the following discussion come from a later production, as late as I921, done by his wife's touring company. Charles Shattuck assumes that this production was based on Benson's earlier treatment of the same play.^"^

At this point, a brief examination of Benson's handling of crowd scenes, at least nominally in the Meiningen tradition, will be undertaken. First of all, the promptbook indicates that eighteen characters were cut from the play by cutting the text and reassigning dialogue. This left sixteen speaking roles and twenty places for crowd or supers. These twenty men were divided into five groups of four men each, and labelled 155.

A, B, C, D, and E. Each group was then assigned a function in each of the crowd scenes, Group A became Dietors in Act I, Scene 1; did shouts in Act II, Scene 1 ; became Dietors again in Act III; rested during Act IV,

Scenes 1 and 2 and became soldiers in Act IV, Scene 3* (The scenes in the play were reorganized into four acts instead of five.) Group B alternated between being Blacks and offstage shouts throughout the play. Group C became crowd, offstage shouts, and finally soldiers in the last scene. In the first scene. Group D became crowd, then offstage shouters, and finally became Brass soldiers for the remaining scenes. Act I, Scene 1, saw Group E as crowd and then as offstage shouts, crowd again in Act III, and finally, two members of this group became standard bearers in Act IV, Scenes 2 and 3i while the 1 fi others remained in the crowd.

The majority of the existing promptbooks representing Benson's work are incomplete and sketchy. This particu­ lar promptbook, however, is fairly complete, especially where the crowd scenes are concerned. Taking Act III, the scene containing Antony's famous oration, and the business delineated for the extras in that scene as an example, the commentary runs something like this. "B, C , D, E Co' is discovered on stage mixed with company. All except

D Co. carry sticks. They join in shouts and movements 156#

with company (as in promptbook) till curtain," An interesting note is that in the promptbook the action is merely indicated as "Business," Continuing, the

commentary says: "Dietors (A) enter R,U,E. double file followed by Cassius, they push their way through crov/d and exit R,L.E, This is done as the curtain rises," The

directions continue: "They remain ready off R.U,E, until : 'Rise and mutiny' when they follow gents on and get dovm L in front of fire and clear away the

faggots and laurel and throw it into fire," The directions indicate that this action is to mask the entrance of the property men. Finally, the instructions for the remainder of the scene are as follows: "They stand in front of fire and mask it from audience until Antony climbs on to rostrum by body when they get down L«

shouting 'Ave Caesar' with others till curtain, (A and 19 C must have shields and spears,)"

In a review of Benson's production of the play, the critic mentioned that Benson appeared dressed in

goatskins in the first act crowd scene, showing in his actions and movements the quick spirit that was to be in Antony (the role he played). The description of

the Forum scene noted the brilliance of the crowd business,

the kindling of Caesar's funeral pyre, the casting into this fire of bracelets and jewels, and the fact that around 157. the pyre "stones volleyed, staves and broken benches hurtled in the air, and the scene that Shakespeare ends with the quiet 'Bring me to Octavius* closed in a 20 crimsoned fury of noise and fire." Once again, Benson's devotion to physical action was demonstrated, this time coupled with his attempt to work in the tradi­ tion of the Duke of Saxe-Meiningen.

Excited by his newly adopted directorial concept, Benson began to rehearse for his second tour as a manager. The pattern that he established was to be followed throughout his touring lifetime. Those weeks set aside for specific tour preparation were used up with exhausting, detailed rehearsals. Once the company was on the road, the mornings were occupied with rehearsals ; the after­ noons with hockey, cricket, water-polo, or football, according to the season; and the evenings with perfor­ mances. Sometimes brush-ups on small scenes took place after the performance, and then the company was free to do whatever it wished until the next morning's rehearsal call. It mattered little to Benson what they did as long as the actors were on time for the morning's business,

Mrs, Benson recalled that rehearsal during tour preparation began at ten-thirty in the morning and lasted, without break, until five-thirty. The company lunched 158,

off buns brought in by Benson's faithful servant

Titherington (later succeeded by Charles Richmond), and paid for with the money collected as fines. The actors were fined rather frequently in the earlier days of the 21 company for infractions against company rules, Benson kept his actors hard at work. She described one rehearsal of Macbeth at which, after nearly seven hours of work without meals, Macbeth reached his cry "They have tied me to the stake I" William Mollison exclaimed in answer, "I wish to God they would tie me on one I" Benson,

returning to reality and realizing that the company had 22 not eaten for many hours, dismissed rehearsal,

A Return to Oxford

The second tour opened, as has been mentioned, in Ulverston, In October the company played Cambridge and

then moved on to Oxford, The season's plays included the plays from the Bentley repertory: Hamlet. The Merchant of Venice. The Lady of Lyons, and The Corsican Brothers, to which were added The Rivals. Robert Macaire, and Hannah Cowley's The Belle's Strata^cem, preceded by The Waterman, Anticipating a warm reception in Oxford, the scene of his former triumphs, Benson was surprised to discover that it was one thing to have played in and stage-managed a Greek tragedy as F.R. Benson of New College. 159.

It was unimportant, and in fact regrettable, to reappear at the University as F.R. Benson, a professional actor "from the Lyceum Theatre, London", especially with a repertory including such plays as The Corsican Brothers and Robert Macaire.Personally he was greated warmly, but as a man of the theatre his reception was rather cool. After much discussion with the guiding administrative powers of the university, the on3.y local theatre, the Royal Victoria, was placed in limits for the student body.

In previous times this particular theatre was noted

for having been run on the theory that performers were the last people who required any attention, or who were to be considered responsible for the entertainment.

The play was only of secondary importance. The real

excitement was that the pit had to take umbrellas to shield themselves from being pelted and spat on by the people in the gallery. The umbrella was not only a shield but an effective offensive weapon when the pit lunged upstairs to retaliate. The front rov/ of the stalls spent most of its time destroying the instruments

of the orchestra and those seated in the dress circle would rush on the stage to embrace the actresses or add a bit of impromptu business. Quite the opposite behavior

characterized the Benson company's performances. In fact, evening dross was even worn to the theatre and not only 160. students attended, but professors and dons as well 24

The engagement progressed fairly well, Romeo and

Juliet opened the run and was well received, the actors being called before the curtain at the end of each act. Hamlet followed. It was during a performance of this particular play that Benson endured a rather ignominious confrontation : The interest of the audience was a little bit flagging. Suddenly, I observed the under­ graduates sitting up and taking notice, 'Ah!' thought I, 'its the old story of Irving and Kean and Garrick over again. I will compel them to hear me. I have got them at last.' From this happy mood I was brought to the prosaic region of common sense by a loud growl close behind me. I was in the middle of 'To be or not to be.' Turning on 'that is the question' I found myself face to face with the Evil One in the likeness- of a black dog. The dog was looking at me critically, and I thought I might possibly edge him off the stage; and so I proceeded with the soliloquy, with one eye on the audience and one on the dog, punc­ tuating my speech every nov/ and again with a back kick at the enemy. Certainly the house was breathless with excitement. Bets were being offered and taken on the result of the man and dog fight now proceeding. I backed, and kicked the infernal animal into one corner, hoping the stage- would capture the beast; but it had an evil reputation, and all the staff had fled from the wings. I threw my mantle over it, got in a thundering kick, and proceeded with my speech. My triumph was brief. To the delight of the audience the dog crawled out from under the mantle and charged ferociously in the direction of the 'Melancholy Dane.' It evidently did not approve of me or of my rendition of the text. The excitement rose to fever-heat. 'Two to one on Hamlet!' 'Two to one on the pup!' were nov/ to be heard in all parts of the house. Suiting the action 161

in the word— ’with a bare bodkin'— I drew my sword, and with the flat of it warded off the animal’s attack and, still reciting Shakespeare at my loudest, beat, pushed and kicked the snarling spawn of Satan into the prompt-corner, The flight of the prompt- corner's occupants attracted the animal to follow them off the stage and down the stairs, where someone put a fire-bucket on its head and hurled it into the street, 5

The Oxford Magazine treated the week at great length and was friendlier to Benson than to his company, "His position on the stage must shortly be assured," In mentioning the company, it said: ",,,it is difficult to see, although it is conducted on the Meiningen system, wherein it differs from ordinary second-rate provincial companies,

The tale of the tour of the ensuing year, 1884, was simply one of continued establishment in the secondary groove of the provincial touring groups. At this point, it would be helpful to understand the state of touring companies in Great Britain during this period. Benson mentions the "decay of the circuit system and the local stock companies,Though Britain bulged with theatres, royal, ancient, and shoddy, touring dates were not easy to get. Such travelling classical repertories as those of Osmond Tearle, Barry Sullivan, and the Comptons had to compete with thin, watered down productions of this or that London success, Benson had to fight for his dates. 162,

He could not yet aspire to many of the major towns.

From these early tours and from his experiences with Irving at the Lyceum, Benson observed the changing texture of the English theatre. Because of these in­ fluences he developed his own philosophy of what a good touring company could accomplish and the weaknesses that it could shore up. It was the elements of this philosophy that would solidify into the five guiding principles Sidney Lee would mention in that Cornhill Magazine article of May, I9OO, mentioned in Chapter II.

Benson recognized the effect of the changes in the English theatre during the Victorian period brought about by "a nev/ and more social patriotism, the inspiration of Imperial industrialism," He likened Great Britain to the workship and market place of the world, overflowing with new wealth. He summarized his feelings as follows : Some years ago the change commenced, when the monopoly of privileges and opportunities ceased to be confined to patent theatres. The gradual increase in the number of theatres, the lessening of religious antag­ onism, the enlargement of the auditorium, the increased scale of expenditure on splendid, archeologically accurate productions, and the drift of the country population into town revolutionized the methods that were in vogue from the days of Garrick, Mrs, Siddons, the Kembles, the Keans and Macready, 163.

The expenditure involved needs, perhaps, more financial and business ability than is usually found in the artistic temperament, and long struggle commenced between the financial statement and the artist's design, I do not know that the adjustment has been yet successfully achieved,28

He referred to those conditions, or the lack

thereof, that influenced his work as signposts. The first one he mentioned was the already considered death and decay of the circuit system and the local stock

companies. As a result of the demise of these theatrical institutions, there was no school in which actors could satisfactorily gain experience. This was the lessen he

had learned at the Lyceum, He had not satisfactorily learned his craft. The second signpost that he encountered was at Stratford-Upon-Avon, where Charles Flower and

his friends had endowed and erected the Memorial Theatre, Flower deplored the gradual disappearance of Shakespeare and Shakespearean acting from the stage. To quote

Bensons "He understood, as many others have done, how ignoble and impoverished the national life tends to become if the voice of their sweetest singer and wisest

seer is no longer heard in the land,"^^ Benson continued to say that after a year on the stage, he sensed how his work might one day be attuned to the Stratford undertaking of Flower. 164.

The third signpost Benson considered was the task of forming a Shakespearean company that would preserve what was best in the old conditions of the stage, at the same time adapting them to modern requirements, so that he might grow in the knowledge of the art and give a similar opportunity to others. The problems facing such a company were plain: All of us had to struggle hard in competition with the London companies bringing down some established success, and with the gradual de­ cline in the intimate knowledge of, the friendship for, the theatre which was in on the abandonment of the circuit and the old stock systems.30

Another very noticeable change, and one not conducive to the elevation of dramatic standards, according to Benson, was to be found in the fact that

Shakespeare no longer supplied "the chief test of mind in an author and his exponents," Of this, he says further ; When I first began, the majority of every audience would probably have seen a dozen Shakespeare plays, and they would judge other plays in relation to them. They would have measured the skill of an actor by his success in leading Shakespearean roles, just as the sculptor or the painter measures his skill by reference to the galleries of Spain, France, the Netherlands, Germany and, above all, Italy, Perhaps the position may be better understood when one recollects how W,G, Grace and Hobbs mark the scale of a cricketeer's excellence. 165,

Today, the audiences which have interest in or knowledge of stage-craft can be counted on the fingers of one hand. Shakespeare out of date? Never! Not so long as 'It's just me and Bill at the battle of Wipers'--in our army; or so long as the denizen of the slum tells you that the average play he sees lasts for a night, but the Shakespeare play stays with him always.31 Although some members of the audience may have considered Shakespeare outmoded, Benson most certainly did not.

So, with these needs to be answered, Benson set out on his quest. He thought of Shakespeare not as

dust beneath a chancel slab, but as a living man whose work must live through his actors. It was this particular attitude that would endear him to Charles Flower.

As the years passed, Benson solidified his prin­

ciples. It must be recognized, however, that in the 1880's there was very little that an actor of small means, on a tour of the lesser towns, could do. Benson had seen, and he had toured with resolute, Bohemian strollers who were sociable, simple, often capable, sometimes not, who could stroll direct from bar to dressing room. With his family background, he set his goals higher. He believed that it was good for an actor, especially a Shakespearean actor, to be in sound physical condition. In later

years it would be proven that Benson's physical training

kept him supple, otherwise his performances would have 166 •

perished from fatigue. As it was, his voice, which was

ever prone to harshness, would grate and fray. Physical

stamina, however, aided him greatly in going on stage after losing all his energy he expended directing the plays, and struggling with all aspects of their presen-

tation,

Benson and His Company

More and more young players wanted to join the company, especially those young men fresh from the uni­ versities, and young women aware of the pitfalls of touring on the road who felt that the Benson rule would be honorable and sure, Benson liked the young men to get the same kind of training he had begun to have during his first years in London, Howe and Mead and Jimmy Farnandea had taught him at the Lyceum, "Your body and your voice are your instruments,"^^ and he was glad to

see the novice going to the more experienced and seasoned performers in the company for help. Although the

fledgling actors learned more from observation and practical experience than from formalized instruction, there were several things Benson insisted on. One of these was that the company should understand what it was talking about. No one got through on bravura or personal charm. Always Benson saw a play as a whole; he n 16?' 0 could show anybody how to heighten a speech or to edge a phrase, and he would let players argue out stage business among themselves. says of the Benson method :

Here was acting, a curious and beautiful art, with its inward part and its outward part, with every detail, every gesture full of significance; and everything open to discussion, to a reasoned enquiry into the right or the wrong, the more graceful and the less graceful way of doing it.,,,It has always seemed to me that the Benson way is the v/ay to make actors who think, who delight in nice enquiry into every detail, who have an intelligent joy and interest in the art they foll o w , 3^

Because he wanted his productions to move fast, Benson often rearranged the sequence of scenes. In The Merchant of Venice, for example, the Venetian scenes were played in sequence, followed by the Belmont scenes, Portia, in one arrangement of six acts, arrived in Act IV0 Oddly, he still believed that boisterousness implied pace, that rapid physical action could hide lagging speech, A Benson company was never inaudible; it never lopped its sentences, it allowed none to ask in doubt if Viola in her first scene on the Illyrian sea- coast was saying "worthy service" or "worth his service,

From the time that Benson first became a manager in I883, throughout the rest of that decade, his re­ volutionary ideas combining athletics and aesthetics into a theory of acting made him unpopular with the more 168. established members of the profession. To put it mildly, they were shocked, and outside of his own company this unpopularity grew, as did that of the university bred company. The older rank and file of the profession, veterans of stock, battered spear carriers, harshly referred to "Benson's Boys" as snobs and amateurs. A Class warfare developed,These were the attitudes that were so prevalent during his appearances at London's Globe

Theatre in 1889,

It may have been true that a few of his actors were muscle bound; according to his memoirs, there were some evenings of stiffness after football and hockey. But, nowhere in the stories of Bensonian life is there evidence that proves that athletics interfered with the player's work. Moreover, the members of the company were never darkly austere * it is possible, from all of the jokes and gibes that floated about concerning their athletic endeavors, to think that every Bensonian had lived on a regimen of barley-water and water-polo, with a little blank verse thrown in for good measure. The simple fact is that they acted Shakespeare because, like Benson, they loved it, and played games because they enjoyed them. They were not a company of cricketeers or amphibians. They knew what acting ought to be, they criticized themselves and others as bluntly and as 169. harshly as young men always did, and still do today,

Benson attributed the attitude of those more established in the profession, the "old hands," to the natural 27 resistance to change in an era promising a "New Age,"

Over the years, the faces in the company were in a constant flux. There were some that remained longer than others, but each new season of touring brought new faces and new talents to train, Benson had talked of a training school— a place where young, aspiring performers could experiment in the laboratory of the theatre and discover the length and breadth of their talents. This laboratory, although not formally organized with a structured pedagogy, proved very fruitful.

There were some women who left the company to marry; there were some who left because they discovered that neither their talents nor their devotion to the theatre was sufficient enough to carry them on, but the majority, after testing and discovering themselves, went on to join other companies and to move up the ladder of success. This was particularly true after the first Lon­ don engagement at the Globe, The London managers scouted Benson's company and skimmed off the best talents with promises of more money and more prestigious engagements, Benson, painfully aware of his limited 1 7 0 . budget, was always happy for those that made the break into the more prestigious circles. In later years, his greatest pleasure was counting the number of

Bensonians employed in the London theatres. The Bensonian bond and loyalty among the performers who moved on was strong, as shall be seen later.

Because of the constant change in the personnel of the company, Benson was always eager to hear new talent. After a performance or between acts in his dressing room, or at odd times in his living quarters, he would hear aspiring actors and actresses who hoped he would show them the v/ay to London, the Lyceum, and the ranks of Ellen Terry and Henry Irving. It was in this way that he met the young actress who was later to become his wife. The then Constance Featherstonhaugh described her interview as follows: It was a bitterly cold December morning, with snow deep on the ground. When I reached Albert Villas, Kensington, I was shown into a room without a fire, the windows open, the snow drifting in and lying in mounds on the carpet. I saw a handsome boyish figure sit­ ting at a table, sipping cold milk. I ex­ plained that I had an appointment with his father, Mr. F.R. Benson. 'I am F.R. Benson,' he said. I fairly gasped, he was so utterly unlike any Manager I had ever met. His dress was strange, not to say eccentric; a pair of very baggy ill fitting trousers of an enormous check, a well cut Norfolk coat, showing a low flannel collar, once white, but not yellowed by many visits to the laundry; 171.

a peacock-blue tie, with long ragged ends, and big Jaeger cloth boots with shiny toes. His hair flowed in wavy tresses over his collar, and he seemed to me some strange character out of a book. He told me he never felt the cold, but his fingers were icy, and his nose decidedly pinko When he raised his hands, he dis­ closed wide shirt sleeves of grey flannel, tied with rope at the wrist, and the same curious adornments topped his boots. After a conversation of two hours, on most interesting subjects, he engaged me to play 'lead' in the Comedies, and 'Juliet' and 'Emilia' in the tragedies. He explained that his Company was conducted on the 'Meiningen system' and all the members of the Company had to 'super,' he himself observing the rule. (I may say I never once saw him 'super' in those days, though later on I have known him to go on in crowds). I was to receive a salary of three pounds a week, and find my own dresses, about twenty- one in all.38

When Benson engaged Walter Shaw Sparrow, later an artist and art critic, he warned him that he would need: ...several wigs— second hand ones will do— two or three for character parte, and three or four flowing wigs for courtiers. And you'll want two pairs of Shakespearean shoes, russet and black; three pairs of tights, grey, black and red; some grease paint for making up; some lace; a little false jewellery, and a large basket for your properties....I provide everything else the men require.39

Sparrow was grateful. While he was learning the ways of the stage he would receive no pay— no salary for rehearsal. 1 7 2 .

G.F. Hannam-Clark, In unpublished memoirs, recalled the terms of a contract for the season begin­ ning in the fall of 1904, It was with the F.R. Benson Company Ltd. and was an impressive document which engaged him for "suitable parts" at a salary of two pounds per week of seven performances, with four shillings for an extra matinee, and two weeks of preliminary rehearsal unpaid. It declared further: Any person being intoxicated, or swearing, or using obscene, abusive, or insulting language, or indulging in unseemly con­ duct, shall pay by way of liquidated damages a sum equal to a week's salary, and the Company shall be entitled at their option to,nut an immediate end to his engagement.

Obviously the actresses in the Benson company had a harder time than the men, for they had to provide and to fit their own dresses, sometimes on as little as thirty-five shillings a week.

Life on Tour

Lady Benson recalled that travelling while on tour would be in reasonable comfort, though it might involve a Sunday journey from Exeter to Dublin, or from Glasgow to Brighton. On the way there v/as much talk of audiences, past or possible. On long rail journeys Benson was anxious for the comfort of everyone. 173. but preferred to sit quietly by himself, while his wife joined the company for conversation. At any prolonged

stop he would often run up and down the platform, bareheaded, unaware of the attention he drew.

Several problems plagued the members of the com­ pany while on touro One of these was the finding of

suitable lodgings for their stay in any given town. Lady Benson described one of her first encounters with this problem at the start of her first tour. The place was Falkirk, and the company had journeyed all night. Arriving very early in the morning, the individual members of the company set out to find breakfast and

lodgings. There was one difficulty, it was Sunday, She and another actor, Herbert Ross, finally persuaded a cottager to give them "breakfast and a wash," The wash they were allowed to have only in the backyard out of a bucket as their hostess informed them that they were breaking the Sabbath and could not perform their ablutions under her roof. The remainder of the story follows ; After a meal, cooked with great reluctance by this stern Sabbatarian, we set out to hunt for rooms. I was directed to a desolate looking house, which styled itself a Temperance Hotel, and after some persua­ sion, the landlady consented to take me in. While in the bedroom, unpacking my bag, I heard the lock turned in the door, and a harsh voice shouting, "Ye’ll no raise the 174,

blinds, nor come out of the room, until the Kirk is over. I wouldna hae the neighbors ken I had a low play actress in ma hoosel"42

Attitudes such as this were common. In those days there was nobody obliging enough to find rooms for the company, so unless they were fortunate enough to get addresses from friends, they had to scour the town themselves and many a door was slammed in their faces, according to Lady Benson. It was a common occurrence, when they asked for rooms, to be told, "We don't take your sort," or "No, thank you, we had a black gentleman last week, and he went off with a silver spoon; we take no more theatricals." ^

A second problem concerned the condition of the provincial theatres. Lady Benson recalled dressing with nine or ten others, a dress basket becoming a dressing table. Oftentimes the light v/as so bad that a candle stuck in a beer bottle served as the source of illumina­ tion, Many times, especially in the smaller halls, they had to climb a sort of ladder to get to the stage. Sometimes the curtains shielding them from the audience were so short that the pit amused itself by rolling oranges under them. Frequently, grease paints were eaten by rats and mice. One time, the stage manager while inspecting and alloting dressing rooms, said to the local manager, "This one will do for the ladies," 175.

To which the local man exclaimed, "The ladies, can't they dress with the gents? I thought the Benson Com­ pany was such a friendly oneî"^^^

A third problem of touring concerned the use of supers--extra personnel for crowd scenes. Frequently as many as sixty of these extras were hired for a big production. They oftentimes cut a sorry figure, for the same costumes had to be worn by men of all shapes and sizes. They didn't wear them well, and there was scarcely time for alterations and careful instruction on the manner of wearing them. The extra ladies had problems also. The costumes seldom fit them properly either. The ladies often wore their own street shoes in production. But they generally took more interest in the play being performed than did the men. Lady

Benson mentioned overhearing two of these extra women, during the church scene in Much Ado About Nothing, when Hero is cast off by Claudio, one saying to the other, "What's she done, dearie?" "Nothing much, love," said L K the other, "only been a little bit gay,"

While their personal lives were often complicated with adventures and misadventures such as those mentioned above, their lives on stage were often complicated too, A story or two concerning these events will help to 176.

Figure 4 Frank Benson as King Lear, I903 177. illustrate. Benson described a performance of Hamlet in which Belle Cecil, appearing as Gertrude, had a difficult time I As her Majesty of Denmark, on one occasion she showed that presence of mind and determi­ nation to carry on which is one of the characteristics of our profession. As Hamlet stabbed Polonius behind the curtain, on a stage the size of a kitchen-table, his excited mother rushed on to the point of the blood-stained sword, receiving a severe cut in the eye. In audible stage whispers ensued the following dialogue, not usually in the text: *My God, guv*nor, I am blindI* Hamlet: *No, you are not. Go on.* Queen: *0 , what a rash and bloody deed is this'. (Guv*nor, is my eye out?)* Hamlet: *A bloody deed! (go on, you are all right)— almost as bad, good mother, as (mop the blood off your forehead with the table-cloth) kill a king and marry with his brother! (Go on, woman, get it sewn up afterwards.)* Which she did, but. not till the end of the performance.

These were indeed days and nights crammed with misadventure. Once in Romeo and Juliet, the then Miss

Featherstonhaugh, as Juliet, was hurled from a balcony of movable dress baskets straight into Romeo*s arms, the balcony following after. Another time, after a Rob Roy fight, loved by Benson, in which everyone joined, even Titherington, Benson*s valet, Titherington was heard to say: "Muster Benson*s knocked out ma front tooth...*Is own nose was bleeding awful! Aye, it were a proper fight!"^^ 178.

Such mishaps as these unfortunately created problems for Benson and his company. These unfortunate occurrences became jokes and as such, were remembered over the quality of the performances. The more conser­ vative theatrical practitioners, both in the provinces and London, were quite eager to hear these stories and by combining them with their derisive opinions of Benson's devotion to all forms of athletics, they used them as ammunition against him in their efforts to sully his reputation and denegrate his work. As a result, Benson became the target of many jeers and gibes.

Further, except in a few towns such as Manchester, , and Birmingham, provincial drama criticism could be unfortunate. After reading many reviews of this period, it becomes obvious that provincial writers seemed to be curiously oblivious to experimentation. At the time, drama criticism in the smaller towns consisted rarely of more than a roll of the players and parts, with each player being alotted one descriptive adjective. All of this v/as unfair to the Benson revivals which could have unappreciated complexities on the one hand, but the actors were capable, on the other, of displaying the more obvious gifts of honesty and devotion in their performances. 179.

Lady Benson recalled that the tours were filled with rehearsals in the morning, competitive sporting events in the afternoons with the male Bensonians versus local athletic teams (the ladies of the company acted as a cheering section), performances in the evening and then a round of parties given by the citizens of the particular town in which they were appearing. There are, among the various newspaper clippings in the

Stratford Memorial Theatre Scrapbooks and in the Benson file in the Enthoven Collection of the Victoria and Albert Museum, myriad reports of Bensonians on the athletic field. One wonders how the evening productions could not be affected after a day when the Bensonian Athletic Club beat the Grimsby Constitutional Club by seventy-two runs, or Bensonian Oscar Asche took nine wickets against the Gaiety Girl company at Scarborough, or the Cliftonville (Ulster) hockey club was beaten by three goals to one (three by F.R, Benson on "an almost unplayable ground"), or a very tough water polo match was lost at Nottingham. When the company was not engaged in athletic competition, Benson, himself, might very well have been. A clipping from the middle nineties shows him playing Rugby for Barrow against Ambleside; "Barrow had the services of Mr. F.R. Benson, proprietor of the company engaged last week at the Alhambra, to 180. whom the spectators were indebted for some of the best dodging runs on the Park for a long time,,,."

One of the company's favorite places was Ireland,

From Londonv y to Limerick, they were treated with great kindn and enthusiasm. The people made it plain that they w; od to do nothing but watch the Bensonians at night and play against them in the afternoon. Their hospitality was unparalleled, Mrs, Benson recalled that during one season in Cork the performances inter­ rupted a run of parties; the players seldom slept, they Ilq were kept so busy, ^

Benson, after remembering some particularly stirring competitions between the members of his company and various university teams, summarized his feelings about athleticism : Surely all this sport and pastime with good company is, and always has been, a most important and essential condition of a healthy form of art expression. The benefit thereof cannot be weighed in pounds, shillings and penoe--in the measurement of chest and biceps, in publicity, records, or avoirdupois. Walks, swims, skating, golf, fencing, and single-stick, hunting, rowing and gymnastics still kept up the athletic fibre of the company,50 181.

The Problems of Touring

The problems that confronted Benson as actor- manager were varied. In addition to handling personnel, directing and acting, there were the problems of mounting his plays. Pictorially his productions, generally speaking, were without pomp. It was true that he pro­ duced in the traditional mode, as pictorially as possible within his means, but it was the acting of the young Bensonians that was vigorous and appealing. While the spectacularism of London overwhelmed its plays, Benson's scenic and costume display was intended as merely supportive to the effectiveness of the acting and the play itself. An article from the Stratford-Upon-Avon Herald of May 5» 1905» discussed the supportiveness of his visuals at Stratford. Since his production concepts on tour or at Stratford were one and the same, it will be interesting to note this article in detail: If it is a great art to create pictures with paint, that must be a great artist indeed v/ho paints them with men. He who can take live human beings and use them as his colours, his technique, his creations, must feel nov/ and again a tu­ mult of Greek fire in his soul; his feelings must rise high sometimes when he sees a piece of Life live before his eyes, and feels that he has stirred its pulse, and that his tools are men and women. This is the level of art to which Mr. Benson has raised the position of actor-manager. Just as a musician can bring to life the beautiful creations of Beethoven or Mozart and gladden our 182.

souls by calling forth the dead spirit of the piece from its chrysalis of ink and paper, so Mr. Benson brings Shakespeare's soul to life before our eyes, and tells us by his fine art what the very breath of Shakespeare's life was as it lived in his mind....Like a true artist, his background and his details all help better ■-’to express his subject; the scenery is beautiful and fitted to the drama as it is played out before us; the dresses show the beauty of the lady actors, and also the romance of other days. But the life and fire that fill the whole play, the perfec­ tion in minor details, and the focussed force of expression in the important parts-- these we see better under Mr. Benson's artistic management than in any other stage representation of Shakespeare...,We can lay at Benson's feet this tribute of praise-- at Stratford we go to see not Benson, but Shakespeare.51

Benson's notorious lack of concern for financial matters was tempered by the fact that he was fortunate

to have a series of steady business managers. Their caution, however, was not always sufficient to keep

him from amassing a collection of scenery and properties that demolished his profits. During these years, the wardrobe, too, was nursed with great care by Constance

and Lyall Swete. It grew month by month, even if the excellent designs had to be executed in inferior materials. In the years before the destructive fire of

I899» he maintained that he was preparing for the future and London where all of his financial difficulties would be cleared, a dream that was never fulfilled. The years after the fire, which nearly destroyed him, were spent 183. rebuilding what he had lost.

Touring scenery was an expensive proposition. For the most part, Benson kept his more popular productions lighter in scenery, using certain backcloths almost universally. At times, however, he did tour heavier productions. A Midsummer Nizht's Dream. Henry V .

Antony and Cleopatra, and Julius Caesar were probably the most ornate. In an article in The Magazine of Art,

W.J. Lawrence, described Benson as haying found the

"golden mean" between the oyer-elaboration of scenic display in the productions of London and the return to Elizabethan simplicity adyocated by Arthur Dillon of the Elizabethan Stage Societyi Happily for the well-being of Shakespeare in the proyinces a golden mean has been struck between the dingy, inappropriate framework of yore and the minutely realistic and over­ elaborate backgrounds of our present day London theatres, A knowledge of the scenic system pursued by that very earnest and ambitious young actor-manager, Mr. F.R. Benson, whose vogue in the country grows apace, would have given even Mr. Arthur Dillon pause. Full of local colour (notably so, indeed, in the scenery designed by Mr. L. Alma-Tadema, R.A., for the revival of Julius Caesar in 1893)i and otherwise conceding much to the temper of the times, the Benson mise-on-scene invariably affords a setting of sober appropriateness in nowise counter to the spirit of the purpose of the poet. Supremely contemptuous of out­ worn precepts, Mr. Benson has wisely realised that the Shakespearian drama, unlike the drama of Mr. Pinero and Mr. Henry Arthur Jones, connotes no accessories being essentially 184.

devoid of background and detail. Prom this conclusion he deduces the corollary that no play should be elaborately mounted when a change of scene takes place in the middle of an act. Hence his scheme of setting takes little note of ground rows, raking pieces, and the general litter of proper­ ties, the only luxury indulged in being an occasional heavy flight of steps in exteriors. The old system of one-surface paintings has been largely followed; but by the substitution of drops for flat.s the disturbing element complained of by Mr, Dillon has been materially obviated.

The article continues by praising Benson for not employing the "carpenter's scene", the scene done in "one", which the author considers an "obnoxious device,"

Wise in his generation, Mr, Benson as arrived at the conclusion that the quality of aloofness given to the higher drama by the grov/th of tradition is beginning to detract from its value as a theatrical force. Even as the bluest of blood re­ cruits itself by occasional commingling with a plebain strain, so the "legitimate," as it is strangely styled, may derive renewed vigor from the sustenance of its inferiors. Hence, finding it absolutely necessary, in accordance with his princi­ ples, frequently to exhibit a couple of set scenes in the same act without making use of an intercalary front scene, Mr, Benson had little or no compunction in pressing into service a certain grateful mechanical device hitherto the sole prerogative of melodrama. This ingenious revolving system of scene shifting permits of one heavy sot being transferred bodily in the place of another, the whole creating little distur­ bance when performed under cover of a darkened stage. Originally adapted from the French drama. La Crime de Faverne. twenty years ago, when the astute Boucicault turned it to account in the prison scene of The Shaughraun. this device has since been utilised to 185.

excellent purpose in The Silver King. Human Nature. and In the Ranks. The voice of the fine old crusted Tory is still heard in the land, but in Mr. Benson's case protests have evidently been stayed by the reflection that the end thoroughly justifies the m e a n s . -5*

The Bensonian Audience

In the beginning years of Benson's touring, despite the fact that he had to battle for his engagements, even in the smaller towns, those audiences that saw him thought that the company was exciting. It did not always act well, but it gave to everything a drive that startled provincials who were used to a certain sepul­ chral pomp, Sullivan style, with dirty Dutch-metalled papier-mache goblets. These Benson people acted not as ritual but as recreation. Often they got through a play at a pace that could be unseemly. Audiences in the Lake District or the North Riding had never known anything like the fights in which Mr. Benson used a rapier like he meant it. Other pleasures lingered:

George Weir's "Twinkling unction in the comic characters, aided by a fluency of gesture that was never misplaced";

William Mollison's voice— "that when it chose, could be like a river in flood— making unearthly music of the Ghost, or glancing through the Scottish rhythms of the Bailie in Rob Roy."^^ 186.

Benson was supposed to be leading the "new school" of Shakespearean acting and was called "the coming

Shakespearean actor." He got away from many of the old traditions and "business," and though some critics censured him for this, many hailed it with relief. He thought out much new "business," "a good deal of which is now followed by most Shakespearean Companies, who probably have no idea who originated it.

Touring was a risky business, but more and more people wanted to see Benson and his company as the years rolled by. Provincial managers, realizing how audiences to'ok to him, ceased to be witty about that "amateur from the Greek play." He was a responsible director who knew how to pick a company, all the time finding better scenery and costumes. The tour list developed,

Manchester took to Benson and Manchester's word meant a lot to other towns. There were always new pieces to see because Benson was constantly adding to his repertory, never wanting to get into a rut.

One aspect of Benson's touring that helped to build his audiences both in the provinces and at Stratford was that he arranged to play the schools. says :

It is acknowledged in the acting profession in England that it is useless to take 187.

Shakespeare on tour unless you can rope in the schools. The method is to find out what are 'the set books,' i.e., the plays appointed by the various educational authorities as 'Eng. Lit.' for examina­ tion purposes, and then include them in the repertory, especially for matinee performances. Thus a company "on the road" with Shakespeare will probably do better business in the afternoons than at night.55

This was to be the reasoning behind the instigation of the Summer Festivals at Stratford in later years.

It must be remembered that until the end of the nineteenth century the theatre was still regarded as a

House of Sin by the majority of the British educational authorities. It was widely assumed that acting and immorality went together. This long standing hatred of the theatre began to melt in the hearts of these school administrators and their colleagues in the churches partly because of the passage of time, and partly because of the work of actor-managers like Frank Benson, who brought Shakespeare to school and school to Shakespeare.^^

Benson was eminently qualified to undertake the introduction of drama in the schools. He was a fine young English gentleman. Shakespeare had been promoted to high cultural honors by many of the learned. But he did delight in smutty jokes, some of his plots were far from uplifting, and the language was rather lurid in 188. spots. The National Bard or no, he had to be presented with much taste and discretion. Who could perform this service better than an Oxford gentleman, who had participated in sports while at Oxford, who recruited gentlemanly actors and set them to play cricket and hockey as well as Shakespeare? The plays would be carefully selected and cut.

While Benson did not systematically tour the schools, he did make it a point to bring the "school plays" in to his repertory. Usually arrangements were made for the schools to come to the theatre, but on rare occasions where such visits were impossible, he took the company to the school. Perhaps the most famous of his school visits were those to the Cheltenham College for Ladies,

Lady Benson's description of these visits serves as a good indication of how the performances were modified so as not to be offensive to the young ladies in attendance :

Miss Beale was the head mistress, and a real autocrat. She would not allow the girls to visit the theatre, so the performance had to take place on a small stage in a class­ room, without scenery or furniture. Among the numbers of girls present, only one man was admitted, a clergyman, who sat in the middle of the front row of seats, F,R,B. used to give us many instructions before the day. We were to wear 'demi-semi' dresses, and the men dress clothes. We were never to mention the word 'Cod' or 'Hell,' but substitute 'Heaven' and 'Below,' We were not to look at the audience, and 189.

above all things, we were not to laugh. These restrictions, in some cases, we found difficult to carry out. It may easily be imagined how hard it was to keep a serious face, while Mollison and Weir walked round a chair, in full evening dress, pronouncing the gruesome words of the Witches in Act I of 'Macbeth.* The apparitions had to stand on a chair behind a screen and put their heads over the top , while they gave out their words, and as many of these were'doubles,* with nothing to disguise them, it must have been very confusing to the audience. While Janet Achurch was in the middle of the 'sleep-walking' scene. Miss Beale walked on the stage and requested her to 'Wait a few minutes until the gas was lit.' The actors wore daggers thrust into their braces. No 'make-up' of any kind was permitted, consequently old men often looked considerably younger than their grand- sires, thus making 'confusion worse con­ founded. ' When we played 'Merchant of Venice' the part of 'Jessica' had to be much cut, as Miss Beale thought the character a bad example to the g i r l s . 5 8

These school audiences helped bring in the money that was necessary to keep the company on the road, thereby serving an immediate need. The performances undoubtedly aided, as the years passed, in the building of the audiences of the future. Wherever the students went as they grew to their majority and entered the world on their own, they would be likely to attend performances of the Benson company. 190,

As time passed and the company moved into the twentieth century, the touring program became more tightly organized. The same towns reappeared in roughly the same order, and their playgoers looked for Benson as for an old friend. During the first years of the new century there could have been hardly a place of any moderate size in England, Scotland, Wales or Ireland, that a Benson company— at one period four were on the road— did not visit at one time or another. Borrowing from the scattered account sheets in the Stratford-Upon-Avon Shakespeare Centre Library's collection of Bensoniana, the spring tour of I9II included the following towns: Aberdeen, Dundee, Edin­ burgh, Nottingham, Glasgow, Middlesborough, Hull, Newcastle, Hanley, Stratford, Leicester, Cheltenham,

Malvern, Newport, and Oxford. This record was for the Number One Company and lasted from the week ending February 4 through the week ending June 10, The autumn tour of this same company, lasting from the week ending September I6th through December 16, included Wimbledon, Holloway, Brighton, Liverpool, Birmingham,

Bristol, , Bath, Bradford, Manchester, Leeds, and Derby,

The latter months of I90I presented problems for the Bensons. Husband and wife had been through great 191. strain. The fire and the two London seasons in I9OO-I9OI had taken their toll. They both had been working together so closely for sixteen years that it was felt that a separation would help. So, for a few months after Christmas I90I, while Frank Benson continued his rounds in the North, Constance took some of the members on a secondary tour in Ireland and Southern England, The Tatler of April 23, I902, observed that his was "a eg hew force, making for the education of the provinces,

This marked the beginning of a new phase in Benson's touring. In the fall of 1904, a firm of banana im­ porters announced that it would back a Benson company on a West Indian tour. This tour lasted from the autumn of 1904 into the spring of I905 playing, among other places, Trinidad, Barbados, and British Guiana,

Shakespeare was well received and the tour, troubled with misadventure, was called a success. The idea of multi-company touring grew and by the fall of I906, there were four companies crossing and criss-crossing the British Isles, There was, of course, the Number One company headed by Benson, The other three companies were named after the regions they travelled— North, South, and Midland, The Number One company played the large metropolitan areas— the major cities. The three secondary companies played in the smaller towns spreading 192. the works of Shakespeare to the masses.

Throughout the years treated in this study, the Benson company maintained the same,kind of schedule, rehearsing in the morning, athletic contests in the afternoon, and performances in the evening. They wooed and won their audiences from among their competitors on the sporting fields, and from the sports enthusiasts who watched the competitions. The comaradarie that developed from the respect the actors garnered on the sporting fields, created a curiosity among these locals to see what these actor-athletes were capable of in their chosen profession. Once the common man had sampled their theatrical skills, and enjoyed them, he returned again and again to see what the members of the company undertook on stage with the same vigor and enthusiasm they displayed on the athletic field.

Benson recalled being moved by the interest in

Hamlet, Ophelia, Shylock and Portia by the squalid and poverty-stricken neighborhood that surrounded the Rotunda Theatre in Liverpool. One of the sentiments that was expressed was: "Most plays we forget as soon as we *ave seen 'em; Shakespeare stays with us until you comes

6 *** again." Another time he recalled the reactions of the

"friends and neighbours of the countryside" at Winchester, 193. the site of his old school. Dicker, the coachman, thought Jessica was a minx, and that the Jew had been badly treated by the Christians, Kennison, the head gardner, thought "it was proper Shakespeare, and natural- 62 like to see Skylark going hare carrying a stable lantern," On still another occasion, after Hamlet, he received the doubtful compliment: "The finest Hamlet I ever sav; in my life— maybe I was drunk when I sav/ ye, and that’s the reason I think ut,"^^

In Benson’s mind, reactions such as these demon­ strated that he was fulfilling his purpose. As The Times would remark at the time of his death, Shakespeare was his master passion; as time went on, he came to see in

Shakespeare much more than the beauty of drama and of poetry. "By the eve of Shakespeare had come 64- to stand in Benson’s mind for the spirit of England»"

At Ellen Terry’s premiere performance at Stratford in

1902, Benson remarked: "Shakespeare has helped us, and every man, to catch, according to his capacity, some rhythm of God’s heart-beat pulsations through a beauteous living world0"^^

In an article found among the clippings in the Benson File at the Shakespeare Centre Library in Stratford,

Benson is quoted in a rare interview describing his players: 194.

Poor players or begging friars, we go up and down the length and breadth of the land-- the one that the poor may have the Gospel preached unto them, the other that the people may never be without the opportunity of seeing Shakespeare played by a company dedicated to his service.

1 195.

FOOTNOTES

^Birmingham Post and Gazette. November 4, 195S. 2 Benson, p. I9I.

3lbid.. pp. 194-195.

^Ibid. pp. 194-195.

^Ibid. p. 196.

^Ibid. pp. 196-197.

?Ibid. p. 198.

®Ibid. p. 20.

9lbid.

l°Ibid.

l^Ibid.. p. 202,

l^ibid.. p. 202.

^^J.C. Trewin, The Story of Stratford-Upon-Avon (London; Staples Press, 1950), p. j.

^^Trewin, Benson and the Bensonians. p. 30.

l^Ibid.

^^Ibid.. p. 31.

^'^Charles H. Shattuck, The Shakespeare Promptbook (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, I965), p. I87, 196.

^ ^'Promptbook of Julius Caesar, OSUTC, p. 957»

l^Ibid.

20 Unidentified Newspaper Clipping, Benson Holdings, Enthoven Collection, Victoria and Albert Museum, London, England.

^^Lady Benson, p. 45.

Z^lbid.. p. 56.

^^Benson, p. 204.

Z^ibid.. po 205.

^■^Benson, pp. 206-207. P A Clipping from The Oxford Magazine, October 22, 1883, Benson File, Enthoven Collection, Victoria and Albert Museum, London, England.

^^Benson, p. 245.

^^Ibid.. p. 245.

^^Ibid.. p. 246.

3°Ibid.

Ibid., Po 247.

^^Trewin, Benson and the Bensonians. p. 82,

^^Benson, p. 180.

Arthur Mac hen, "The Benson Company," Theatre Arts Monthly. September, 1931» P* 737.

^^Trewin, Benson and the Bensonians. p. 90. 197.

3^Ibid.. p. 41.

3?Benson, p. 244,

^®Lady Benson, pp. 37-38,

^^Walter Shaw Sparrow, Memories of Art and Life (Londont John Lane, 1925)» p,~''54,

^^Trewin, Benson and the Bensonians, pp, 144-145, £t H Lady Benson, pp, 120-122, Jk P Ibid,. p, 38,

^^Ibid,. p, 39.

^^Ibid,. pp, 41-42,

^^Ibid,. pp, 42-43,

^^Benson, pp, 209-210,

^^Lady Benson, pp, 49-50,

J[i Q Unidentified Newspaper Clipping, Benson File, Enthoven Collection, Victorian and Albert Museum, London, England,

^^Lady Benson, pp, II3-II5 ,

^^Benson, p, ?60,

" The Stratford-Uoon-Avon Herald. May 5» 1905.

^^W,J, Lawrence, "Scenery on Tour," The Magazine of Art, 1896, pp, 478-479.

^^Lady Benson, pp, 61-62, 198.

e c -^^Ivor Brown and George Fearon, Amazing Monument (London: William Heinemann Ltd., 1939), p. ?53*

5*Ibid., pp. 255-2560

^^Ibid.. p. 2560 qo Lady Benson, pp. 60-61.

^^The Tatler. April 23, I902.

^^Benson, pp. 213-214.

^^Ibid.. p. 214.

62lbid.. p. 218.

63lbid,, p. 260.

^^The Times (London), January 1, 19^0.

65rThe Stratford-Upon-Avon Herald. April 29, I902,

^^Undated clipping, Benson File, Shakespeare Centre Library, Stratford-Upon-Avon. 199,

CHAPTER IV

THE STRATFORD FESTIVAL

Bayreuth, Oberammergau, Stratford-on-Avon— it would almost seem that the day is not far distant when the three names will range together in the minds of the cosmopolitan, and the quaint little town in the heart of the Garden of England will draw them to its yearly Shakespeare Festivals as potently as either of the other strongholds of a somewhat similar ideal.1

Today, the potency of the Shakespeare Festival in

Stratford-Upon-Avon cannot be doubted. The years have born out this prophecy— this festival and this town have become a thriving memorial to Shakespeare,

The contributors to the Festival's success have been ’i many. Not the least of these is Frank Benson, who for over thirty years influenced and aided in the development of this celebration into what it has become today. An examination of the history of the festival, the Benson years and the results of these years will place into perspective the contributions of this man who "first set the ball rolling," and whose enterprise, unflagging spirit and love of the legiti- 2 mate drama helped to make Shakespeare popular. 200.

#'

Figure 5 Prank Benson as King Henry the Fifth 1912 201.

Olympus is nowadays somewhat out of fashion. But there are still echoes of the scorn hurled at the heads of those who first thought of founding a centre for Shakespearean study on Shakespeare'S own ground, in Stratford. That an approach to Shakespeare should include Stratford is distasteful to many even now; and when in 1874 a Stratford citizen announced his intention of building a Shakespeare Memorial Theatre there the plan was regarded as both pretentious and absurd. A few odd celebrations, such as Garrick's 1759 'Jubilee*, 'Birthday' proces­ sions and speeches, even the more ambitious Tercentenary of 1864, were harmless, if ludicrously inadequate, tributes to a great writer. A theatre was just n o n s e n s e . 3

The "scorn" mentioned above had its basis in failure— the failure of the Garrick "Jubilee," the failures of previous attempts to produce Shakespeare's work in Stratford, the failure of London to secure the per­ manent Memorial within its limits, and the failure of communication between the sophisticated townsmen who I thought of the countryman as a "bumpkin" ahd the countryman who pitied the townsman for having the misfortune of living and working in a city.

The Development of the Festival Idea: Backgrounds

The "Garrick Jubilee" of 17&9 was the first great effort to organize a Shakespearean celebration in the town of Shakespeare's birth. Garrick had known Stratford in his younger days. In 1742 he had visited the town with Charles Macklin and sat under the boughs 202. of the mulberry tree in New Place, Ideas of doing something on a grand scale to honor the birthplace of England's most famous author were constantly on his mind. In I769, when he was the undisputed leader of the English theatre, he had his opportunity. The Stratford Corporation— not without hope that the flattered Garrick might present to it a statue for the vacant niche above the new Town hall— decided to offer him the freedom of the borough. In May, I769, a delegation from Stratford visited Garrick in London and presented to him the scroll of freedom in a mulberry casket carved from the wood of the Tree (the one supposed­ ly planted by Shakespeare) and adorned by Fame holding the bust of Shakespeare, by the Three Graces crowning him with laurels, and Garrick in the character of Lear in the storm scene. The depiction of the storm scene proved to be quite prophetic.

Garrick thanked the Corporation profusely and, as hoped, presented Stratford with a leaden statue and a picture by Benjamin Wilson of Shakespeare in his study. In its turn the Town Council purchased Gainsborough's portrait of "Garrick himself in a grove, leaning against an unexpectedly human and good looking bust of Shakespeare."^ The two portraits were hung in the new Town Hall, Garrick decided that he must do 203. something else, and so he conceived the idea of a "Jubilee" in Shakespeare's honor, done in his home town. Stratford Race Week, not Shakespeare's Birthday, was chosen as the time. Race Week was a popular racing festival in September, Urgent preparations filled the summer. Painters and carpenters were sent from Drury Lane to Stratford to build The Rotunda, a temporary amphitheatre supported by a circular arcade of Corin­ thian columns, capable of holding an orchestra of one hundred and a thousand spectators, A vast chandelier containing eight hundred lights hung from the painted dome,

The activities of the "Jubilee" included parades, fireworks, a costume ball, a horse race, a vast formal dinner, and Garrick's recitation of an ode he had written especially for the occasion. There was one element that had not been considered. The scheduled days of the "Jubilee" were characterized by great downpours of rain which flooded the Avon, washed away part of the Rotunda, and either ruined or cancelled most of the planned festivities. It is interesting to note that while all of these activités were planned in the name of Shakespeare, not one of his plays was produced. The "Jubilee" was a total failure, but it planted the seed of Shakespearean commemoration. 204.

During the years that followed there were occa­ sional performances of Shakespeare's plays. On one occasion, John Dryden's version of Shakespeare's The Tempest was presented. It was a curious piece in that

Miranda had a sister, Dorinda, and a new comic charac­ ter arrived in the person of Mustacho the Mate, In 1816 Stratford dutifully celebrated-the bicentenary of

Shakespeare's death by bell-ringing, cannon-firing, and a public breakfast, dinner, and ball, with a brilliant display of fireworks. There was no enter­ tainment of a literary or dramatic nature.

In 1824 the local Shakespeare Club was born at a dinner, for Gentlemen only, in the Falcon Hotel. A dozen Stratfordians attended. The membership grew in six years to nearly four hundred. In 1827 the Club, influenced by memories of Garrick, arranged a three day festival as the first of a series of triennial commemorations. There was a Shakespeare procession to the Birthplace, and the foundation stonelaying of a new theatre in Chapel Lane, a venture that gave hope of being a prosperous venture. The modestly-designed house opened the following December with a production of As You Like It. followed by "Garrick's perversion" of The Taminr of the Shrew.^ The people of Stratford stayed away in crowds. Although the theatre survived 205.

for forty-five years it had no stage for two-thirds of that time, and passed most of its life, unknown to fame, as the Royal Shakespeare Rooms. By the winter of 18?2 it had been demolished; the lawn on which it had stood became once more the garden of New Place. From this time until the Tercentenary celebrations of 1864, parades, breakfasts, banquets, and speeches marked the more important Shakespeare dates. The seed was ger­ minating.

"The Wars of the Roses are, in the eyes of the true Stratfordians, not to be compared with the blood­ less war which raged between Stratford-Upon-Avon and London during the years 1861 and 1864.It was not an easy matter to convince the world that the Tercenten- I f ary of the-birth of Shakespeare should be nationally celebrated in the town which claimed that honor. It appeared to be much more natural, as far as London was concerned, for the commemoration to take place in that city. In London there was every advantage. Actors, proper theatres, persons adept at organizing such a

celebration--all were available in London in plentiful supply. London considered these same qualities lacking in Stratford. Stratford used the argument that it could show the world where Shakespeare was born, where he walked, where his wife lived, where he went to 206. school, and, above all, where he got his inspiration. London responded by saying that London was the place where Shakespeare had found his success, it had men of letters, and an excellent transportation system— a festival held within the city's boundaries would be easily reached. To the latter, Stratford responded that it too had a transportation system and that those who so 'Wished could make the journey with relative ease. The two squabbled back and forth in the press.

Three years before the celebration was to take place both London and Stratford formed committees to handle the festivities and make the plans. The two committees vied with each other in efforts to get support in the larger cities of the provinces. For a while it looked as if London were winning ^ then the Stratford committee cajne up with the idea of going international and the tide changed. The Stratford committee sent circulars throughout the world offering the citizens of the world three practical opportunities to pay homage to Shakespeare. The first was to send money for a scholarship which could only be earned at Shakespeare's school, the second was to send money towards the cost of a Monumental Memorial, and the third was to send money to the Festival Fund. One of the members of the Stratford committee who worked 207. diligently for the cause was the Mayor of Stratford,

E.P. Flower.

The activities of the London committee slowed down from lack of leadership. Great were the expec­ tations, but nothing much was accomplished. People in London began to grow impatient. There were no practical plans for the London activities. The London newspapers began to respond to the headway that was being made in Stratford and began to give that city encourage­ ment. The Daily Telegraph, the Daily News, the Star, and The Times all came out with leading articles in favor of Stratford.?

"Mr. Flower and his colleagues were certainly knowledgeable men and not the country bumpkins some

Q Londoners would have us believe." They proceeded with their plans to erect a temporary theatre, at which the plays of Shakespeare would be performed. The citizenry reacted favorably to the plans and anticipated the celebration eagerly. Unluckily, some of the actors who had agreed to journey to Warwickshire started to quarrel among themselves. Samuel Phelps and Charles Albert Fechter fell out like school children over the assignment to Fechter of Hamlet, a part in which he shone but which was claimed by Phelps as leader of the 208,

British stage. In the end neither of them came, Helen Faucit also cancelled her promise to appear when she heard that Stella Colas, a young and distinguished French actress, would he Juliet. She had, however, the grace to contribute towards the funds. Hasty read­ justments were made and the Festival opened and ran for two weeks,9

Financially, the Tercentenary was not rewarding. The committee was not disappointed--they had at least made a start, "Many good actors such as Buckstone, 10 Howe, Chippendale, Rogers, and Compton came down," was also a visitor. Attention had been drawn to their effort, and the committee was pleased that their celebration had at least been an artistic

success. The seed had grown to a blossom.

By 18?4, Charles Edward Flower had become the prime mover in a drive to establish a permanent Memorial to Shakespeare, He had seen his father, E,F, Flower, working night and day in the interests of Shakespearean celebration during the Tercentenary of 1864, He had seen him negotiate for the building of a temporary

theatre ; he, himself, had helped that celebration financially; visions of a permanent Memorial must have 209.

filled his head. The projected Monument mentioned in the plans of the 1864 celebration had never materialized. So, in 1874 Charles Edward Flower organized a committee, persons of either national or local distinction, and set about the realization of his dream— a permanent Memorial Theatre» The first practical step was his donation to the Town Council of a riverside property he had just purchased. The conditions of this purchase included the stipulation that a proper site in the garden be used for a Shakespeare Memorial Theatre if funds for such a project could be raised. In the follow­ ing year the Shakespeare Memorial Association was properly incorporated with Charles Flower as Chairman and an appeal for subscriptions was announced. The Town

Council voted one hundred pounds to the project.

The London Press was far from enthusiastic. The

old arguments were raked up. Shakespeare had done nearly

all of his work in London, he made his name in London, and in London should be built the National Memorial Theatre dedicated to his name. The antagonism between

the two factions was so one-sided that it had little or no effect. Flower refused to squabble with the London Press. The Stratfordians proceeded with their task.

The composition of Mr. Flower's Board of Governors

•i • . showed the,way his mind workéd. This was not to be a 210. local endeavor. Drury Lane, the Haymarket, and Adelphi Theatres were all represented on the Board. A few London actors including Barry Sullivan and an American actor, Edwin Booth, were also on the committee.

A competition was announced fcr the design of the building. The plan was to include a theatre, a library, and an art gallery. The idea in the back of Flower's mind was the ultimate development of a school for dramatic and scholastic study of Shakespeare. It was finally decided to build the theatre first and then add on the library and art gallery at a later date. The design accepted was submitted by Messrs. Dodgshun and Unsworth, and was to cost about twenty-one thousand pounds. The appeal for funds in England only produced one thousand pounds. Stratford, determined not to be beaten, came up with the rest of the necessary funds, mostly from Mr. Flower's pocket. The foundation stone was laid on April 23, 1877, the traditional date of Shakespeare's birth.

Once the London press realized that the project was going on at all costs, it started to ask a number of impertinent questions. How, it was asked, was Stratford to get an audience? It was one thing to build a theatre and another to fill it. Where were 211, they to get actors? London felt that there must be some reason, other than altruistic, which was prompting Flower and his colleagues to persist in their plans. Unable to stop Stratford's pursuit of its dream, London made itself look more and more undignified by "hurling ridiculous names at a cultured and dignified 12 committee," Flower and the other members of his committee let London wear itself out by remaining silent. It was not until the opening day of the Theatre,

April 2 3 , I879, that Flower answered in a speech the malcontents of London : A new line of criticism has been taken up by some who say we are presumptuous in under­ taking it. They say we do not represent literature, science, scholarship, clergy or law; they say we are not inhabitants of that great metropolis which ought to monopolise such great works; they say, in fact, we are a set of Respectable Nobodies I All I can say is that the 'Nobodies,* having waited three hundred years for the 'Some­ bodies' to do something, surely blame ought not to attach to us; rather let criticism be given to those great social and literary 'Somebodies' who have done nothing, I fear the case is that many of the great 'Somebodies' would have been willing enough to join our ranks, except that we desired to admit those only who were willing and able to give some real assistance. We don't want names only,,,. We have not forestalled others; we have simply taken up the work because others have not done so, I am sure that the ' members of this association would have been most delighted if they could have shifted the responsibility of the work, not to say the expense, to other shoulders. But this I will say— that the Memorial being 212.

established, we may depend upon the local enthusiasm which has been so much despised to ensure its being carried on usefully and honorably; that future inhabitants of Stratford will be no less alive than we outselves to its credit and responsibility. It is quite true we are nobodies. We know that, and therefore do not despair because we cannot accomplish great things in a single effort. We shall be ready to go on quietly and patiently with out­ work, knowing that we do so in a true spirit of love and reverence for the great man for whose memory we do it,13 Thus, Flower attempted to dispel beliefs that there were ulterior motives behind the building of the Memorial Theatre,

Barry Sullivan was responsible for the presenta­ tion of the first Festival in the new theatre. He was Midland b o m and had made a sizeable fortune out of touring Shakespeare, therefore, he was a reasonable choice. He contributed generously to the funds, served as one of the original Governors, and presented a ten day Festival of Shakespearean repertory at his own cost. The opening play. Much Ado About Nothing, had Helen Faucit as Beatrice, She had made a considerable reputation for herself in Shakespearean parts, playing with Macready and other leading actors of her day. She was retired by this time, but was delighted to play Beatrice in the opening production of the new Memorial Theatre, 213.

The whole of the proceedings were conducted with dignity and caution. Flower was not alone in his endeavor and was aided by the people of the community. Over the years, the entire community helped to shape the policy of the enterprise. The attitude of the town was typified in a saying of Flower's wife: "Don't run, walk. If you are in such a hurry, there will be no roots in the thing, and in a few years it lût will die." This philosophy prevailed in subsequent years. No ambitious schemes were attempted. It was enough to keep the Birthday Festival. Barry Sullivan brought a company, again free of charge, for the second year's celebration. The Shakespearean Birthday play, The Merchant of Venice, was well attended. The / audience came mainly from Stratford and the surrounding district.

1881 brought the completion of the Art Gallery.

A loan and gift collection for Shakespearean pictures was started and an appeal for gifts for the library was also made. brought his company for that year's Festival, playing, onoe again. Much Ado About Nothing as the Birthday play. In 1882 this same company brought Romeo and Juliet as the Birthday piece. Compton's company was well received during both Festi­ vals, but comedy was their forte as their name indicates— 214.

The Compton Comedy Company. The Council decided that the playgoers should have a chance to see Shakespearean tragedy at the Festival and in 1883 invited Elliot Galar, who had a good reputation as manager of the Leicester Royal Opera House, to bring his company.

King Lear was the Birthday play and Macbeth the other tragedy they presented.

At the I883 annual meeting of the Memorial Governors, always held during the Birthday season, it was formally decided to have an annual series of performances in the Memorial Theatre and to include one of Shakespeare's rarely performed plays as the Birthday play. The Festivals up to this point had been "unremarkable,”^^ What was being accomplished was that Stratford had begun to house the plays. The derisive attitude that the outside world directed toward the Memorial Theatre only served to strengthen local patriotism. The entire project became the "darling child" of the area and became a tangible object of devotion and happy pride. The Governors nurtured their "child" and allowed it a natural growth--a growth of interest in Shakespeare and his Theatre. 215.

The Birthday celebrations of 1884 and 1885 were presented by the company of Charles Bernard and Miss Alleyn. In 1884 Cvmbeline was the Birthday play and the other Shakespearean offering. One notable happening that occurred during the 1884 season was the marriage of Mr. Bernard and Miss Alleyn at the Parish Church. In 1885» this same company nlaved love's Labour's Lost on April 23,

By 1884 the completion of the central tower added the finishing touch to the exterior of the Memorial Theatre. The Art Gallery was opened and the Library was well on its way to being established. The Birthday Festival had become an established custom in Stratford. "The stage was set and everything ready for the leading 16 actor to make his entrance."

Benson and the Stratford Festival

The coming of Frank Benson has been described as a miracle; but there are conditions at­ tached to miracles. The act of faith is the essential preliminary. If Stratford had not been essentially genuine in intention to honour Shakespeare it may be doubted whether she would have encountered the man who lived to that end.17

The events that precipitated that coming were inauspicious to say the least. 216.

One fall evening in 1885, Charles Edward Flower and his wife drove over to the neighboring town of Leamington Spa to see a performance of Macbeth. They were, in effect, auditioning the company of F.R. Benson for the next Festival, Benson had extended the invita­ tion to the performance with this hope in mind.

Macbeth was moonstruck that night and if Flcwer had taken what he saw seriously, that performance might have changed the entire history of Stratford-Upon-Avon and blasted the hopes of the Benson enterprise t

Much was hoped by me from this performance, net only as a preparation for Macbeth on a large scale at Reading, but as possibly bringing about an engagement for the Memorial performances at Stratford-cn- Avon. Unfortunately, as sometimes hap­ pens when one is particularly anxious all should go right, on that night everything went wrong.lo

One of the first events of that fateful evening involved

George Weir, the company's marvelous character man.

Benscn recalled that Weir usually gave "an impressive mystical rendering of the First Witch." That afternoon,

Weir had spent much time gossiping with friends over

"healths five fathoms deep," His performance made evident his rather pixilated state.

He came down to the footlights in a friendly, cheery way, beamed vacucusly at the audience, and then, in a ccnfiden- tial whisper, informed them that 'The cat has mewed three times.' I think I never realized the difference between prose and 217,

'Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd. Thrice, and one the hedge pig whin'd. Harper cries?--'tie time, 'tie time I' and in place of this invocation merely came, in the manner of the latest racing tip, the friendly information concerning pussy recorded above.

Carefully planned effects went wrongi

I was proud of my new business in having a small tea-bell sounded as a signal from Lady Macbeth that it was time for the murder to be accomplished. Unfortunately, as I was preparing for my great exit, the man in the flies thought the bell was the signal for lowering the curtain, and down it came in the middle of the scene.

The Dagger speech was left unsaid. While whispering simmered around the house, the curtain flew up again to reveal Frank Benson staring skyward and using a vocabulary that would have shocked his Quaker ancestors. 21 It certainly astonished his players. Lady Benson recalled another part of the performance »

Things went on more or less smoothly after this until the banquet scene, when a local 'super' dressed in full armour, standing majestic in a prominent position on the steps of the throne, felt himself over-balancing, clutched at his helmet, knocked it off, and trying to catch it, played a sort of bat-ball game, and finally struck it into the centre of the stage. This was greeted with shouts of laughter from the gallery, and a certain amount of silent merriment from all the Company, except our infuriated manager, v/ho saw the engagement at Stratford-on-Avon gradually fading into nothingness.22

The last incident, and perhaps the crowning touch, was recalled I 218,

A faint hope still remained to redeem these mishaps by the spirited acting of the guilty couple after the murder. I, who was inclined, as we have seen, to make muscular activity do duty for mental perception, used to pick up Lady Macbeth with my left arm, carrying her off the stage on my left shoulder, whilst I kept at bay with my right sword arm the infuriated thanes. On this particular night I brushed my fair partner against one of the wings, 'Hope I did not hurt you?' I murmured as I hurried past the stage-bpx, in which Mr, and Mrs, Charles Flower sat, 'No dear, I am all right,' replied Lady Macbeth, The next moment this friendly assurance was suddenly changed, as she was banged against an archway, into: 'Damn you, you clumsy devil, you have broken my backI' All this in tones plainly audible to the august persons in the box,23 It was about this time that the actors on stage noticed that the box was empty. The Flowers had left the theatre.

The following Sunday Benson drove down to Stratford, Over a family luncheon in the Flower's home, Avonbank, Benson explained away the events of the audition. His eloquence must have been magnificent because, despite the grim experiences of that perfor­ mance, he and his company were engaged to conduct the one-week Festival of 1886, This Festival marked the beginning of a thirty-year relationship, during which Benson dominated Stratford, There were a few early breaks in the continuity of his Festivals, but they did not hinder his dominion nor check the development of the pattern he evolved. 219.

Ruth Ellis describes why Benson rose above all of the unhappy experiences of his audition and estab­ lished himself so firmly on the Stratford scene : Benson himself was...invincible, for the most powerful of all reasons. He was a man with a "call". He considered that he had been b o m to * preach the Gospel of Shake­ speare.* He took all England for his mission field, but Stratford was the obvious cathedral and to Stratford he meant to go.24

The Stratford-on-Avon Herald announced in early April that the Festival of 1886 would be "under the direction of Mr. F.R. Benson with his Shakespeare and Old English Comedy Company." It added hopefully, "Mr. Benson's representations have been given in nearly all the principal towns of the kingdom, and we have not yet seen a notice which speaks disparagingly of his assumptions." The article also announced the produc­ tions for the Festival week: Hamlet (the Birthday play).

The Rivals. Othello. Richard III, and The Corsican

Brothers

A sampling of the notices in the Herald and surrounding newspapers gives a splendid indication of the success of Benson's debut Festival season. First to be considered is Hamleti

He realized to a great extent Goethe's idea of a b o m prince— gentle, thoughtful, without the strength of nerve to make a hero, and overcome by the responsibility 220.

put upon him by a vision whose mission he alternately accepts and doubts,

In general terms, the reviewer mentioned a notable variety which made the play dramatically interesting and a clearly marked, intelligent performance which pleased the audience. The reviewer praised Benson's figure, drawing a similarity between his profile and

Irving's, and found no fault with his almost faultless elocution. One drawback that was mentioned was a tendency to drop his voice at the end of sentences in soliloquies, losing the words, thereby marring some fine passages. The scene with Ophelia in the second act was considered to be masterly because it brought out the depth of Hamlet’s real love. The comments on

Hamlet closed with: "There were specimens of undeniably fine acting in Mr, Benson's portraiture, and he is to be congratulated on a distinct Shakespearean triumph.

The next Shakespearean performance to be consi­ dered by the reviewer was Othello, Benson's performance as Othello was considered as equally fine a piece of acting as his Hamlet, He gave his performance "graphic power" and "splendid intensity," and "all the transi­ tions of feeling were vividly marked in voice, facial expression and movement," He won the audience's sympathy in the first act speeches to Brabantio, After 221. the handkershief speech by lago, Othello's "countenance seemed like a human mirror reflecting the feelings of the mind and soul within." The reviewer said that in the final scene the audience was spellbound by the "realism of the incidents and the terrible intensity of the acting." Benson, it seems, departed from what was then traditional business, and strangled Desdamona. The remorse following this "cruel act" "seemed to wring his frame--every emotion was reflected with 28 terrible distinctness."

The critic's regard for Benson's performance as Richard III is reflected in the followingi An actor who can play the title role faultlessly is a genius. He has to re­ present nearly every phase of human character--the hero, the lover, the statesman, and the hypocrite. Mr. Benson may be congratulated on his assumption. It had many strong points and very few weak ones. It was painstaking and laborious, and at times he kept the audience under the spell of his influence. There was little or no break in the in­ terest in which he invests the unfolding of the tortuous purposes and character of Richard and the gradations by which the climax of the action is reached showed the skill of an artist. This is not the least successful of Mr. Benson's por­ traitures,

The critic evaluated the settings of Benson's productions in an interesting way. Hamlet's set was described as followsi "The play was mounted with 222.

truthfulness and good taste, the graveyard scene being particularly effective. Although pretty scenery is used at the Memorial, it is always made subordinate to the living figures." Turning to Othello's set the

reviewer said: "The performance reflected the highest credit on the company, the greatest attention being paid to the minutest details. The setting of the play was quite worthy of a metropolitan theatre." The scenery used in Richard III was favorably compared to that seen in the provincial theatres in Liverpool, Man­ chester, and Birmingham. Praised also was the balance— "the scenery aids and enhances the actors and the play— it doesn't dominate them or distract from them.

This same paper summarized the season in a later edition by saying that Benson appeared in three widely different roles and in each he presented a distinct individuality. "Each was regarded as leaving a clear impression upon the mind of a different man— and each was distinct from Mr. Benson himself."3^

Another paper's critic. The Evesham Journal. mentioned being particularly impressed with the male

. » members of the company whose performances were consider­ ably above average. Benson, himself, was described 223. as an actor of much pcwer and originality, "and his performances will be remembered fcr their many fine points." This article concluded by suggesting that Benson had much to leam, but "in some respects he is able to impart a lesson to older and more experienced actors."3^

That Benson and his company were a success at this particular Festival is beyond question. The association that was to last for nearly thirty years had solidly begun. The company was almost immediately engaged for the Festival week of 1887, further proof of their acceptability to the Board of Governors and the community as a whole.

The steady growth of Stratford's popularity under Benson was the more remarkable because during the whole thirty years, Benson's companies were touring all over the British Isles and it was not, therefore, necessary to go to Stratford to see them. Perhaps this was why the public came in ever increasing numbers--to see their old friend, Benson. Whatever the reason, the growing attendance compelled a gradual extension of the Festivals and silenced seme of the jibes about the futility of rural Shakespeare. 224.

This developmental growth seems less impressive than, in faot, it was beoause it was a slow, natural growth, not a planned campaign. It was due, not only to the right men being there, but to the combination of these men at the right time. All those concerned united in affection not only for Shakespeare but also for Stratford. They saw the town not as it was, but as they wanted it to become. When the Flowers com­ bined forces with the Bensonians to glorify Stratford, they succeeded beyond reasonable predictions. Benson, in his exuberant and tireless devotion, loved Stratford because of Shakespeare and the people of Stratford loved the town beoause it was home. Together, Benson and the people of Stratford made Shakespeare's birthplace an ideal setting for his plays.

The manner in which this success was achieved was quite simple. The Bensonians, through the familiar medium of games and general good fellowship, made themselves citizens of Stratford and were gladly accepted as such. Devoted to the works of Shakespeare and steeped in his traditions, they accepted Stratford as home. They were aware of some of the disadvantages of small-town life, but after the arduous life on the road such a life provided a welcome respite. When the company arrived in Stratford, they acted as if they had 225. come home. The citizenry was not regarded as "the public" but as friends and partners in the cause they were both championing— Shakespeare, They rehearsed and chatted in the pubs, played the town teams on the playing fields across the river from the theatre, and absorbed themselves in the best that Stratford had to offer both in work and in leisure. They served Shakespeare with a great devotion that infected the town and everyone in it so that it became a real playground of the spirit. The magnetic enchantment that grew from the united efforts of so many people drew an ever- widening circle of people to the town and the theatre,

Charles Edward Flower's "child" had come a long way. That he did not live to see the Festival come of age is a shame, for he died in April, I892, His brother, Edgar Flower, succeeded him as Chairman of the

Memorial Theatre Board of Governors, Edgar Flower had a large family, an interest in agricultural pursuits, and an appreciation for natural beauty. He did not have the time to debote to the theatre that his brother had had. Perhaps this was the best thing that could have happened at this time, because he backed the Bensons completely, never interfering in their work. 226.

During the early years of the Festival, Benson and his company endeared themselves to the local citizens. The company was in constant flux— many performers left from year to year to seek fame and fortune in other theatres. Some remained behind and formed a permanent nucleus. Two of those who remained behind and became a part of this nucleus were Frank Rodney and George Weir. Their humor and personalities endeared them, particularly, to the people of Stratford. Characteristic of the Bensonians as a whole was that they taught their audiences to love not chiefly them­ selves, but their author as well. The Bensonians also had a firm tenacity of purpose which was frequently in evidence. For instance, at the time of the I893 Birthday, Benson was dangerously ill with typhoid fever, and it was impossible to produce the scheduled

Birthday play, Coriolanus. on the traditional date. It was entirely typical of Benson that he should recover against all odds and insist on producing this play at the Memorial Theatre in the following August. Some of the advantages of the insistence on strenuous team games were also in evidence. According to Benson, without such physical vitality, swift thought and instant ability to combine in winning as is fostered on the playing fields, no theatrical company could have 227, taken the strain. 34

After three Stratford seasons, Benson and his company did not return for the Birthday celebrations of I889 and I89O. Both he and the Flowers felt that other companies on the road had a claim to Birthday Week and that there should be a change, though the break need not be an enduring one. Benson's identification with Shakespeare, like Flower's, was so close, that there were even jokes that Shakespeare was an old Bensonian. The players had fit well into the Stratford scene, and the Bensons had gotten on so well with the Flowers that they welcomed an invitation to return in I89I.

By I894 Benson had attained a prominent position as an actor-manager in ila provinces. In that same year, in recognition of his work for Shakespeare, he was elected to the position of Life Governor of the

Shakespeare Memorial Association. By the time of the Festival of I897, the popularity of the Birthday Celebrations had grown so that they were permanently extended to two weeks. That year the Birthday play was Henry V . The production was a vigorous one and attracted both critics and playgoers alike. There was one extra­ ordinary, omission 1 The Chorus. Benson employed all the pomp and ceremony— tableaux of a spectacular nature— 228. that might have been better filled with the Chorus. Benson as Henry was a martial Henry. One critic mentioned that in his anger with Westmoreland, he "clanked" on for the Crispin speech, swinging a mace with its spiked iron ball. The Manchester Guardian observed that all was vivid, even to the dancing girls who helped the French soldiers while away the night before battle.In another commentary, the bi-lingual wooing scene was characterised as being carried off with affectionate and humorous gallantry.Productions such as this one helped add to Benson's reputation at the Memorial Theatre during the following two years. But there were some thorns in the bouquets. The Memorial Celebration of I9OO became one of the thorniest.

During the early months of 1900, Benson was firmly entrenched in London's Lyceum Theatre. He had vowed to keep the season going there and realized that he couldn't fulfill his obligation at Stratford. He promised to send instead a company composed of those he could spare, with additions, to put on a week's Festival. Pericles was to be the revival play. Directing and starring in this production was John Coleman.

Coleman, seventy-two at the time, was like every old actor joke personified. He spoke verse with the 229. rumble of a cannon-ball rolling down the thunder track. He had had a long and extensive career in practically all the theatres in England. Pericles had long held an overpowering fascination for him. His greatest dream was to act the leading role in his own version of the play. Of this, Mrs. Benson remarkedi c John Coleman, I was told, had had this 'Bowdlerized* version of 'Pericles' lying by, awaiting production for fifteen years, and his joy was great when F.R.B.'s difficulty gave him his opportunity. I have it from one who was in the cast that the original play had been so ruthlessly treated with scissors and paste that, when Coleman gave a preliminary reading of it, it was utterly impossible to follow him in the text. John Coleman was one of the last of the old actors of the Barry Sullivan type. His gestures and style of delivery seemed to the young 20th Century so extravagant and unrestrained as to border on the ridiculous.

The production had to be put togethet in two weeks' time, but it mattered little to Coleman since it was the opportunity he had been awaiting for some fifteen years. Rehearsals took place in London. At the last minute, the actress playing Marina fell ill

and had to be replaced with Lilian Braithwaite. Coleman rehearsed her one entire night on the stage of the Lyceum. The company rehearsed the next day while

on the train to Stratford* The more experienced Bensonians viewed this production in which they were 230. entrapped with horror. Coleman's performance was described in the following manner : As a handsome youth, shipwrecked and thrown upon the shore, he wore wrinkled pink fleshings with green wool gummed here and there to represent sea-weed. Gold powder, sprinkled on his shaggy eyebrows and heavy white mustache, shook off at every move­ ment. The join of his golden wig had not been coloured to match his rouged cheeks. He had worsted stockings, also sewn about with seaweed, and boots of green satin. Because no one applauded his entrance he walked off stage, re-entered, and dried up so completely that Asche had to speak every word for himigprefaoed by 'You said my Lord— ',3°

From the above, there are strong indications of just how total a failure this production was. The reviews were scathing and Benson was blamed for allowing such an outrage to Shakespeare's memory. » In the following year Benson went back to

Stratford for the usual two weeks with, this time, his first History Cycle. Stratford christened this week of the Festival the "Week of Kings." This simply entailed the production in sequence of King John. Richard II. Henrv IV. Part 2 . Henrv V . Henry VI. Part 2 . and Richard III. The players must have prayed that they would stay in the right reign.

The week was an unqualified success. The theatre was jammed* W.B. Yeats, who came to Stratford at this 231. time was enchanted seeing so much history. He recalled that the theatre was charming in red-brick Gothic, and that on the night he came they had to get him a kitchen chair as no other seat was vacant. He talked of events that were in the Warwickshire wind: the chance of a school of acting, a hope that the chief players of the time could be engaged for Stratford, the thought that this Festival might become "with favouring chance the supreme dramatic event of the w o r l d , "39 In an article in The Speaker, he discussed the Benson company: Of Mr. Benson and his players one need say little, for they have been in London till a few weeks ago, but one or two things one must say. They speak their verse not indeed perfectly, but less imperfectly than any other players upon.our stage, and the stagemanagement is more imaginative than that of other companies. Richard the Second beating time to the music at the end of the Abdication scene, and his leaning on Bolingbroke for his protection at the end of the scene before Flint Castle, are dramatic in the highest sense.... I thought Mr. Benson's Henry the Fifth nearly as good as his Richard the Second, and admired how he kept that somewhat crude King, as Mr. Waller did not, from becoming vulgar in the love scene at the end when the language of passion has to become the instrument of policy.40

The popularity that this Festival engendered coupled with the appearance the following year of

üiSiMSÉ^ià 232,

Miss Ellen Terry as Queen Katharine in Henrv VIII, necessitated the lengthening of the Festival to three weeks in 1902, Miss Terry had not appeared in Stratford before and her visit at this time was heralded far and wide. As was expected, the appearance of this great star, brought such audiences as Stratford had never known before. Another direct result of her visit was that there was an immediate increase in the number of critics sent to Stratford by the London Press, Miss Terry's visit and its subsequent success, helped to establish the fact that visiting stars would be a very healthy innovation for the Festival, Perhaps more artistic recognition could be gained by such measures, along with the "drawing power" of an established

London star.

Not only were the Festivals growing in length and popularity, but gradually the ritual celebration of the Birthday became more elaborate. There had been many formal meals or "collations" as part of the festi­ vities, Beginning in I903, the now familiar "Birthday Luncheon" with the "Immortal Memory" as the chief toast became a regular feature of April 23, In that year. Sir Oliver Lodge proposed the "Immortal Memory" with eloquence. An incident which later grew into somewhat 231, of a scandal marked the occasion# Beerbohm Tree, in replying for the Drama, hinted that he had been invited to conduct the Festival in the following year. This brought a rebuke from the Executive Council of the Memorial Theatre with the assertion that the announce- ment was premature.

In August of 1903 Edgar Flower died and was succeeded as Chairman by his son, Archibald Dennis Flower. Mr. A.D. Flower's attitude toward the Memorial Theatre resembled that of his uncle, Charles Edward Flower, rather than that of his father. He gave himself to it with a single-minded purpose. He had many of the qualities of his uncle who had built the Theatre in the face of derision and neglect. He came to his office at a time when the Theatre had begun its climb to real success. It had attained a measure of 42 renown and a powerful charm for many diverse playgoers. The Festival of 1904, his first as Chairman, was the

Festival of the Silver Jubilee of the Memorial Theatre. It was a record success, playing for three crowded weeks and including in its program the Orestean Trilogy, as well as a full measure of Shakespearean plays. At the end of the Festival Benson announced that he had been invited to return in the following year, and received a bay wreath in addition to the ordinary presents 234. freely distributed among his company. The great enthusiastic acclamation of this particular season had a unique appeal for many hundreds of playgoers, who found in rural Warwickshire an unrivalled setting for Shakespeare's plays, played by the best Shakespearean company in England,

The years continued on in their merry course. In 1905 it was announced that Sir Henry Irving and his company would open the Spring Festival with The Merchant of Venice, Irving, however, was too ill to undertake such a venture and his visit was cancelled. That year the Festival, a success despite Irving's absence, was culminated by the presentation of the first Benson Memorials, These were in the form of window panels inscribed "We few, we happy few, we band of brothers," They were unveiled in the Art Gallery by Mrs, Charles Flower and were the gift of the "Benson Old Boy Associa­ tion," Oscar Asche presented them to the Board of Governors•

The I907 celebrations were presented on a scale hitherto unattempted, Benson invited a number of the leading players of the day to assist with the Festival performances. They were to perform only once at "Special Performances", their roles then being taken 235. by the current member of the company assigned to that role in subsequent performances of any particular play. These visiting stars included Otho Stuart, , Lilian Braithwaite, Mabel Moore, Ella Tarrant,

Arthur Bourchier, , , E, Lyall Swete, A.E, George, , Henry Ainley, and Wynne Mathison. Most of them were, of course, old Bensonians who had often played Stratford before they had attained stardom. The town responded to this extra flourish by arranging a Shakespeare Costume Ball and Old English sports. This was only the first of the star-studded Festivals. The practice of inviting distinguished visiting artists was continued during the following years. Sometimes the visitors played with the Benson company and at other times they brought their own companies, thereby adding diversity to the

Festivals. For example, it was considered fit that the playgoers of Stratford should see the work of , the Elizabethan purist, whose methods did not gain any vast popularity in Stratford, but were interesting for their innovativeness.

By 1909 the Festivals had become so popular that the time seemed right for further expansion.

School administrators, teachers, and authorities in the field of education wgre consulted, and it was decided to 2 3 6 . hold a season of Shakespeare at the Memorial Theatre during the summer holidays of I9IO, At this time, the plays set for examination were to be included in the repertory. Arrangements were made for parties of school children to attend the Summer Festival, This innovation was considered by teachers, parents, and educational leaders alike to be an invaluable aid in the teaching of English Literature, The children ignored the educational value and enjoyed their exposure to Stratford for the treat that it was,^^ An incident recorded by Ivor Brown several years later, undoubtedly held true for the students of I9IO and immediately thereafter I Not long ago at Stratford a complete class of girls from a High School celebrated the end of term by paying for expensive seats at a performance of 'Romeo and Juliet', buying large boxes of chocolates as well as numerous photographs of their favourite actors. When asked what induced them to celebrate in this fashion, they said that: 'It was such fun being able to see the play and know that they would not have to write an essay on it afterwards,'^5 It was with this particular extension of the usefulness of the Memorial Theatre that the Stratfordians chose to show its appreciation of Benson's services to Shakespeare in Stratford by making him the second Freeman of the Borough, The first Freeman of the Borough had been David Garrick in I769. 2 3 7 .

The honor was bestowed on Benson on July 25, I9IO0

It was given to him in the Council Chamber of the Town Hall. There, holding a casket of sixteenth century oak, part of the woodwork of Shakespeare's church, he said: "This day you have constituted me your knight, your friend, your serving man. I hope I may be spared to owe you still my life and eervloe."

Outside the Town Hall, where a crowd had taken the horses from a decorated carriage, he and Mrs. Benson were drawn round the streets after a troop of morris danoers. Flowers were thrown; bouquets and chaplets of bay and laurel were handed up to them. At last the carriage reached the Theatre steps where Benson, alighting, had to speak, with his wife at his side and a strong evening sun slanting between the sycamores on Water Side. After the performance the company itself pulled the carriage with the Bensons, their daughter, and Otho Stuart to the Shakespeare Hotel.In later years he recalled this honor as follows I On a shelf devoted to medals, athletic trophies, and the like, stands in close proximity to the Croix de Guerre a box of cunningly carved oak, part of the old woodwork of Stratford Church. Within rests a scroll, blazoned with red and gold and blue, conferring the Free­ dom of Ancient Stratford. The sight of it conjures up visions of grave seigneurs and gracious burghers in the well-known Council 238.

Chamber; then of a crowd of friendly faces and kindly smiles, hand-grips strong and gentle, and a shout of cheering around the steps of the Memorial Theatre. Many of the faces I can see before me clearly at this moment.... Many of the voices are silent, but the words remain, words of kindness and citizen comradeship, blending with the melody of the nightingales across the river, the glad song of the mavis and the marie, and the low murmur of the Avon as it whispers and winds between the Cotswalds to the western sea. Some of the faces, care-free and kindly, look through the mist of vanished years; others I still meet on occasional visits to my fellow-townsmen. Ever since has glowed in my heart, in storm or snow or scorching heat, the gladness and the comfort of that English summer day.^o From these thoughts it is possible to infer his exact attitude toward the community of Stratford and its people.

As an added inducement to the general public to visit Stratford in the summer, Otho Stuart, one of the Governors, offered a prize for a new play to be performed at the Memorial Theatre. The winning play was a dramatic version of the Pied Piper story written by an American, Mrs. Lionel Marks. It was entitled The Piper. Marion Terry was engaged to play the leading female role for the I9IO Stratford season. The play was popular with these audiences at Stratford, especially children. The Bensons liked it well enough to put it on in the West End of London some months after the end of the summer season at the Memorial Theatre. It did 2 3 9 1 not enjoy much success in London and was one of the causes of a decline in the Benson fortunes• Financial difficulties were considerably increased by the play's failure to draw the London public, even to the point of threatening their invaluable work. The play, beyond its production costs, had lost two hundred and forty pounds.

The "Syndicate" and the American Tour

Benson's lack of financial acumen was notorious. His friends, hoping to enable him to continue his work without interruption or embarassment, decided that all the burdens of administration should be taken from his shoulders. With Archibald Flower leading the organi­ zation, Sir Henry Urwick and W. Lee Mathews, among others, set about the formation of the organization that would ultimately become known as "The Syndicate." Their first task was to determine the extent of Benson's debts. These included income tax, various theatrical expenses, Otho Stuart (who at various times over the years had lent Benson nearly three thousand so that he could keep his company going), other loans, and bank overdrafts. Otho Stuart did not ask for repayment of

Benson's debt to him, others to whom Benson was indebted took stock in the new company in place of their money. 240.

All of the debts were taken over by the new company and disposed of in one way or another. Benson arranged to pay some personal debts off at the rate of five pounds per week.^®

On February 19, 1911, F.R. Benson and Company, Limited emerged from a welter of documents. Francis Robert Benson agreed to serve the company as "dramatic and artistic expert" for the period of five years

beginning on January JO, I9II. He was to function as an advisor on all theatre matters including the produc­ tion of folk drama, dancing, music, and pageants, at an annual salary of 1,040 pounds, paid at the rate of twenty pounds per week. After various charges upon them, he would get a proportion of the annual net profits, less ten percent to form a trust fund and to

settle remaining debts.Relieved of problems that never really bothered him anyway, Benson adjusted to this new scheme quite easily.

Now freed from the concern for financial matters, another situation developed as the result of the formation of "The Syndicate," Benson was, in effect, controlled by the same executive powers that controlled ^ ' ' '. ; thê Memdrial Theatre at Stratford. Constance Benson*q position in the company presented some difficulty. She 241.

had made some enemies because of her spirited partisan­ ship and her lack of tactful discretion when picking

her words. This was the beginning of a new era fcr Stratford and fcr the Festival. Regàrd fcr tradition was no longer as strong as it had once been. The ever­ growing new audiences, knowing little or nothing of the Benson tradition, found it difficult to hold in reveren­ tial awe, as had their parents, an actress now too old to play the ingenue roles. Many people felt that a younger leading lady should be employed for the company. This was an embarassing. situation and was avoided during the spring of I9II. After the Spring Festival, Benson sent a letter to the directors of "The Syndicate" in an effort to persuade them in her favor:

I must risk tiring the patience of a Board that have given many instances of their friendly consideration. I suggest some new points of view have risen on the subject of engaging Constance Benson. (1) She is invaluable to me in the work of re-organising and polishing (2) She is invaluable in teaching (a) artists; (b) school (3) I think terms and parts cou^d be satisfactorily adjusted. (4) Her engagement would not preclude another lady in leading parts: Miss Green or X. With these two and Miss McDowell we can tackle anything. .V (5) History Plays in which she played Queen Margaret and Doll Tearsheeti , (6) Nicholson and Ayrton will not probably return if C.B. does not, She q^presents and stands for so much of what is called the Bensonian

‘V .r.ii J. i 242.

spirit. This is some value when re-starting. (7) The Stratford-Upon-Avon prejudice has lessened. (8) Now she does not play all the leads, I find old objectors fewer. (9) In certain parts managers think her a draw. (10) We shall draw on new plays, better adver­ tisement, and more polish. (11) Neither Porbes-Robertson nor I have ever found stars draw in Shakespeare.52 Despite his efforts, she did not return.

The public swiftly acquired the habit of summer playgoing at Stratford and the three week season of I 9I 0 became four in succeeding years. The Chairman was not satisfied. He had set his hopes on a six month season running continuously at the Memorial Theatre. He knew that a step toward the realization of this ambition was the encouragement of overseas visitors. Stratford experience had proved that the more the public had of Shakespeare, the more it wanted. It seemed reasonable, therefore, to suppose that if companies could be sent abroad to the United States, Canada, and South Africa, the infection could be spread. So, in the Spring of 1913 "The Syndicate" decided to send two companies abroad. One, headed by Benson, was to tour North America--Canada and the United States; another, headed by Henry Herbert, was to tour South Africa. The companies were renamed the Stratford-Upon-Avon Players with the hope of attracting attention to Stratford and 243. the Festival.

"The Syndicate" had engaged Constance Benson for three parts during the Spring Festival of I9I3. She played Doll Tearsheet, the Shrew, and Lady Anne at a salary of fifty pounds for the month. She had been well received at her return to Stratford and the

Chairman set about negotiating with her to join the

North American tour. She was offered the roles of

Doll Tearsheet, Lady Anne, either Kate or Mistress

Ford, Constance in King John (should that be one of the plays toured), and a guarantee that no one else would play Lady Macbeth. This did not satisfy her. On

A p r i l 2 , 1913, she wrote the following letter: Dear Mr. Flower, I shall be happy to accept an offer for America on following terms: viz. that the parts mentioned in enclosed are guaran­ teed, and that should the other plays go up, I play parts named— not worded: 'No one else in the Company shall play— ' but engaged for the parts, should the plays be put up. (Enclosure : Lady Anne in Richard the Third Doll Tearsheet in Henry IV. Part 2 Mrs. Ford in The Merry Wives of Windsor Katharine in The Taming of the Shrew Those parts certain. If the plays following are put up: Emilia in Othello.. . Constance in King John Margaret or Eleanor in Henrv VI - Beatrice in Much Ado About Nothing Lady Macbeth in Macbeth 244.

Provided these parts are agreed, I would con­ sent to play the Queen in Hamlet. Salary I 30 pounds a week,") It would hardly be worth my while to throw up all my work in London and tour Canada, working solely for the good of the Directors, taking out quantities of introductions from influential people, if I am to play merely third-rate parts, and only those occasionally. The salary, as you must realise, is absurdly small, but when one is expected to entertain, and work the social side, it means no possibility of doing more than just paying one's way. My husband tells me you wish me to help with rehearsals, dances and generally organise the wardrobe, etc, I think you can hardly realise the offer you suggest— in return for all the work you ask. Please let me know your decision. I would not dream of going without both Katharine and Mrs. Ford, both parts in which I made a considerable success in London. Yours sincerely, CONSTANCE BENSON^^

The directors were not disposed to agree. Negotiations went on throughout the Spring, each giving a little, but when everything was settled, the North American Company did not include Constance Benson,

The North American Company sailed in September of 1913 with an extensive coast to coast itinerary. They opened in on October 6th with great success and went from there to Ottawa, Kingston, Hamilton, London (Ontario), and , These Canadian towns gave the Bensonians a warm welcome. When the company moved to Chicago, however, the press was generally hostile. In spite of this fact and the consequent financial loss. 245.

they went on to play Columbus, Indianapolis, Grand Rapids, Toledo, Detroit, St. Louis, Louisville, Syracuse, Rochester, Buffalo, Baltimore, Norfolk, Richmond, Augusta, Charlotte, Nashville, New Orleans, San Antonio, ElFaso, San Diago, , San Francisco, Sacramento *54 and Seattle.^

This formidable tour of the United States was followed by the return journey across Canada, with performances at Victoria, , Edmunton, , , and Fort William. The players were excellently received in Canada and in many cities of the United States, but some of the newspaper attacks there indicated that Benson himself had no appeal for a section of the

American people.

Ivor Brown discussed Benson's American notices this way I Some of Benson's American notices caused a great deal of amusement in the Company, America was far less accustomed to Shakespeare than it is now, and many of the responses were very odd, 'Humor three hundred years old, but funny,' was typical of the Press reception accorded to them. Others read: 'Merry Wives of Windsor' gives audience laughing cramps,' 'That Stratford troupe certainly can play Richard,' 'This husband knows how,' 'Wife- taming pleasant diversion,' 'Falstaff gets gay with the Windsor Dames,' and the one that caused the greatest amusement was : 'Smothers the kids while Mother weeps; or Richard Plantageget slays youngst#r% in order to reach the throne, and is thrown through the double cross.'5° 246.

Despite the discouragements, the tour realized many if not all of the Chairman's hopes. While in

San Francisco, the company was engaged, minus Benson, to appear for a long season at the San Francisco Exposition scheduled for the fall of 1914. This engagement would

have more than made up for the losses incurred on the current tour. More important, the desired effect of the tour on the Festivals became a reality. As early as the summer of 1914 there was a noticeable increase in the number of visitors to the Festival from the United States and Canada.One can assume that the truth of this previous statement cannot be accurately tested, especially because of the intervention of World War I and the subsequent lessening of the number of

Americans travelling to England.

The length of the North American tour had pre­

vented the Bensonians from participating in the Spring Festival of 1914. When they returned home on August 3, 1914, they were given a warm welcome by the citizens of Stratford. The outbreak of the war on the next day was considered by some as an indication that the theatre would be closed. However, the Governors and Benson decided to go on with the Summer Festival. As the European situation worsened, all plans for the proposed San Francisco engagement were abandoned as I 24?.

were plans for another general North American tour. Eventually, the Stratford Company was dissolved and the Bensons were hard hit because so many of their men were young and therefore eligible for military service. In the fall of 1914 Mr. and Mrs. Benson toured England with a company of women and older men. They played the Festival of I915 with a strong production of Henrv V as the Birthday Play. It was about this time that Benson announced that he had been asked to undertake the organi­ zation of the Tercentenary Celebrations of I9I6.

Sir Frank Robert Benson

There had been much debate concerning this cele­

bration, but it was finally decided to hold it in spite of the war. The event took place at the Drury Lane Theatre on May 2, I9I6. The full length play that was produced was Julius Caesar. Benson played Caesar. There had been rumors circulating about Benson receiving knighthood, and these rumors became fact when,

after the performance. King George V bestowed the honor on him with a property sword secured for the occasion. London was ecstatic. The reaction to the news in

/ Stratford was. doubly so. r

Otho Stuart, Benson's friend of long standing, had not waited to see the performance of Julius Caesar. 248.

Rumors of Benson's impending knighthood had been rampant, so he hurried off to Stratford after the performance began to await official news that the event had indeed taken place. While he was at dinner, the expected news came in the form of a telegram from Constance, At once he went down to the theatre with the news. The company had just approached the end of a performance of A Midsummer Night's Dream. The moment the curtain fell, he went out before the audience and announced: "Ladies and gentlemen, I have just returned from London, and I think you will be glad to hear that at Drury Lane Theatre this afternoon. His Majesty the King was graciously pleased..." That sentence was never finished; both before and behind the curtain they were shouting so loudly that words were neither needed nor possible.

The next day the Bensons hoped to return quietly to Stratford for a performance of All's Well That Ends Well. When their train drew into the Stratford station, they were beleaguered: Constance, carrying huge bunches of flowers, and Benson, a chaplet of bays, -were borne out to an open landau to which the players and townspeople harnessed themselves. For the second time in six years Frank and Constance Benson were drawn through the streets of Stratford under a shower of petals. Crowds eddied outside the Shakespeare Hotel 249. where they had to stop to say a few words and again outside the theatre,

The Road Awav from Stratford

1916, however, was not entirely a year of honors and flowers for the Bensons, During the bitter fighting in France, they lost their only son. Early in the summer of that year Sir Frank went to France to drive an ambulance and Lady Benson also left England to run a canteen behind the battle lines. Thoughts of Stratford were put aside for the duration.

The Old Vic Company played a summer season at

Stratford in I916, That particular season was the last of war-time Shakespeare for the Memorial Theatre, The Directors decided to close the Theatre during 19^7 and 1918, In the spring of I9I9 , the Bensons, back from their war service, played a few scenes from Shakespeare on the afternoon of the Birthday, They received a check from the Governors of the Theatre and the citizens of Stratford, Their welcome was a warm one, but it was to be their last Stratford appearance in connection with a Festival,

The attitudes in Stratford had changed. The Festival had grown to a point beyond Benson's talents. 250.

He was at that point just past sixty years of age, and the necessary energy was no longer there. According to the Directors of the Festival, it was time to find younger blood to sustain the Festival's pattern of growth. The fact that the Memorial Celebrations had been closed down for two years made the desired transi­ tion easier. During the summer of I9I9 , the control of the Festival passed into the hands of London's Shakespeare Memorial National Theatre Committee aided by the Stratford Governors, It was apparent to the Directors that if they invited Benson to Stratford permanently, it could not be as an actor. The financial aid of the previously mentioned London committee was needed desperately to restore a war-shaken Stratford, New blood was needed to rebuild. The Festival could no longer be Benson's exclusively,^® The Joint Committee offered the post of Director of the Festival to Benson, His activities were to include directing the Festival and conducting a school of acting. For these services he would receive a house in Shottery and a substantial fee. He was to modulate his activities to those of an elder statesman. Insisting that it would be humiliating to accept such an offer, Constance urged him to refuse. Refuse he did. On August 2, 1919, W, Bridges-Adams began 61 work at Stratford in Benson's stead. 251.

I Benson had fulfilled a life-long dream during his i tenure at Stratford. He had produced every play in the [I I Folio except Titus Andronious and Troilus and Cressida.

Ivor Brown saysi ! The work that Benson did in the cause of the Shakespeare Industry in incalculable. He put poetry right with the middle classes. In England that is not so difficulti in England ■ you can put anything right with the right- j thinking man, even religion, if you mix it up with cricket and physical fitness and a healthy outlook on life. He strongly be­ lieved that players should play games. The well-known story of Benson wiring to his agent to 'Send a good fast bowler to play Laertes' is typical of the man. He urged ^ his actors to play cricket, hockey and Î football. He encouraged them to swim, to run, to walk. He once said: 'Give me an actor who is fit— really fit--and I'll make a great actor of him,' There is a story y told of Oscar Asche that when he joined the i- Company he told Benson that he had come y over with the Australians; so he had, but only on the boat I That, with Benson, was a sign of grace, O.B, Clarence, Randle Ayrton, Henry Ainley, Sir , H.R. Hignett, H.O. Nicholson and Murray Carrington are but a few of those who trained I under Benson both as Shakespearean actors f and as Bensonian athletes. In the Shakespearean arena they all gained notable i' fame and developed as first-class actors, thanks to their own abilities and the more than lucky chance that a young man called Benson once found himself in charge of a company which had been left without a i manager.o2

Ruth Ellis says of him: "During his reign the Memorial

Festivals grew to be 'the natural bloom of Stratford town and district' and the affection that had fostered this happy growth remained with him to the end of this

life."*3 FOOTNOTES

^"The Festival at Stratford-on-Avon," The Sketch. April 20, 1898, p. 5^6.

^The Stratford-Uoon-Avon Herald. April 26, I907.

^Ruth Ellis, The Shakespeare Memorial Theatre (London: Winchester Publications Limited, 19^8), p. ?,

^Ihid.. p. 41,

^Ibid.. p. 4.

^Brown and Fearon, p. 1?0,

?Ibid.. p. 175.

^ Ibid.. p. 176.

^Trewin, The Story of Stratford-Unon-Avon. p. 48.

l°Ibid. 11 Brown and Fearon, p, 215,

l^ibid.. p. 219.

l^Ibid.. pp. 220-221.

l^Ellis, p. 14.

^^Trewin, The Story of Stratford-Upon-Avon. p. 50.

l^Ellis, p. 19.

2 5 2 . 253.

l?Ibid.. p. 18.

^^Benson, p. 226.

. p. 227.

2°Ibid.

21 Lady Benson, p. ?0.

Z^lbid.

^^Benson, p. 227-228.

Z^Ellis, p. 21.

^^The Stratford-on-Avon Herald. April 9» 1886.

^^The Stratford-on-Avon Herald. April 30# 1886.

2?lbid.

28%bid. 29lbid.

3°Ibid.

^^The Stratford-on-Avon Herald. May 7» 1886.

^^The Evesham Journal. May 1, 1886.

S^Ellis, p. 21-22.

3^Ibid.. p. 25.

3^The Manchester Guardian, undated review, Shakespeare Memorial Scrapbook, Vol. 3* Shakespeare Centre Library, Stratford-Upon-Avon, England. 254.

^^Shakespeare Memorial Scrapbook, Vol. 3i Shakespeare Centre Library, Stratford-Upon-Avon, England.

^^Lady Benson, p. 185»

^®Trewin, Benson and the Bensonians. p. 118.

39w.B. Yeats, Ideas of Good and Evil (New York: Russell and Russell, I903), pp. 1^2-145.

^®A Clipping from The Speaker. Undated, Found in the Benson File, Shakespeare Centre, Stratford-Upon-Avon.

^^Ellis, p. 29.

^^Ibid.

^^Ibid., p. 30.

44ibid.. p. 34.

^^Brown and Fearon, p. 254.

^^The Stratford-on-Avon Herald. July 26, I9IO.

^^Ibid. Ko Benson, p. 321.

^^Minutes of the Business Meetings of F.R. Benson and Company, Limited, Benson Holdings, Shakespeare Memorial Library, Stratford-Upon-Avon.

3^Ibid.

^^Ibid.

5%ibid.. p. 27-28. 255.

. pp. 67-68.

pp. 35-36.

^^Ibid.. p. 36.

^^Brown and Fearon, p. 26?.

57E1Ü S , p. 36.

^^The Stratford-Upon-Avon Herald. May 4, I9I6 . 39lbid.

^®Trewin, The Story of Stratford-Upon-Avon. p. 63.

^^Ibid.

62Brown and Fearon, p. 268.

G^Ellis, p. 39. CHAPTER V BENSON AND THE BENSONIANS

One cannot adequately discuss the career of Frank

Benson without discussing his relationship with the actors who worked with him— the Bensonians, His com­ panies, according to The Daily Telegraph, were char­ acterized by "this quality of teamwork" which was tremendously enjoyed by the audiences who participated in their performances, "Everyone*in front' believed that they were a band of brothers, and if such simple faith in the theatre is not always justified, of the 1 Bensonians it was no illusion, J.C. Trewin describes the Benson spirit which was mirrored in his company: "The players caught something of his sunrise spirit. With F.R.B. it was always four o'clock on a summer 2 morning, and the freshness of daybreak was in his work," The Observer said of the Benson company:

So it was that his company became the university of acting. The young men and women who joined him were really put through the discipline in rehearsal, as understudies, and in small parts. Consequently to be an Old Bensonian was to have more than a proud name : it meant

2 5 6 . 257.

genuine qualification, Benson went on supplying the provinces with Shakespeare and London with 'stars.'

Benson's Acting Background

Benson, himself, had had difficulty in preparing for the stage. In his memoirs he states that the ac­ quirement of stage technique had always been a difficult and complex task: "the more so because of its seeming simplicity," He goes on to add: From Irving right through the list, I gathered that the best school— that is, the stock company, and a season of repertoire alongside trained artists— had well-nigh ceased to exist. Miss Sarah Thorne's repertoire theatre, open all the year round at , for modern, classic and romantic drama, and pantomime, was still turning out most promising recruits for the stage, but as far as good advice from the profes­ sion went I received little, if any, help, beyond the advice to join a stock company, qualified by the assertion that there were none. He recalls attending a meeting of amateurs, artists, and critics with the idea of founding a dramatic school.

The leading actors and actresses of the day were conspicuous by their absence. He recalls that with the exception of Mrs. Kendel, few of the speakers who were present were acquainted with the subject from the inside workshop point of view. Some of the older actors damned the scheme with faint praise ; while others. 258. like John Ryder, forcibly denounced it. John Ryder felt that there was only one school; the workshop, the stage itself. Supervised by a manager who knew his business rather than an amateur theorist, the fledgling actor could learn his trade as it should be learned— on the stage itself.^

Thus Benson began his tutoring sessions with a series of elocutionists. He admits later: The harmonizing of the life-rhythms of voice with play of feature, movements and gesture began to come only after years of grind in the workshop and observation of daily life. Here at once rises the vexed question of the value of the self-conscious teaching of an academy, with its theories, and the limitations of those theories by practical experience. On looking back I realize that possibly I should have avoided many pitfalls, and have escaped many faulty mannerisms, if I had at once started in the school of experience, the workshop of the actual stage. At the same time, my varied experience of different teachers per­ haps has enabled me to be of some service as a stage-manager and trainer. The dan­ ger of all school tuition is its tendency to generate self-consciousness, the great foe to the dramatic and every other art. On the other hand, the danger of experimenting solely in the workshop is the acquirement of certain technical faults and weaknesses that, unless discovered in time and eradicated, lessen the chance of a successful career. He did admit that temperaments vary and one individual may learn more from actual experience while another 259. z may benefit from the gradual preparation at a school.

Generally speaking, while looking back over his years as an actor-manager, he felt that those who prepared themselves for the theatre by using teachers

of elocution, dancing, fencing, and physical drill became proficient in their craft sooner than those who were left to their own resources. But he did not negate the benefit of practical experience under the watchful

eye of one more experienced in the art. He drew a parallel between learning the art of acting and learning the skills required to become proficient in various athletic endeavors: In the ssune way, in athletics, cricket, football, golf, riding, rowing, and all forms of sport, there are those with an inborn love of some pursuit who teach themselves the rudiments of their particular art in hours of play, or in assisting the expert— like the caddy at golf, the groundsman at cricket, football and running, the boatman on the river, or the stable-boy. To all alike, however, comes the moment when they need the ad­ vice of an adept,?

Thus, it is safe to assume that Benson favored

a combination of private instruction and carefully guided laboratory experience. He admitted that after his experience with Irving's company at the Lyceum,

he learned that "Art has no laws, only general principles;" that among those general principles the 260. most important were to be : "always in the picturej always helping to carry on the story; to realize when you are part of the background and when you are bearing the chief weight of the play on your shoulders." He admitted further, that it was difficult for the beginner to "co-operate unobtrusively with his fellow-artist O when it is his turn to discharge the task." He recalls the advice of W.H. Howe on this matter: 'Ah,' said old Howe, one morning, 'you will find that it is the most difficult part of your work, without undue prominence and without distracting the attention of the audience, and disturbing the chief actor, to convey by look, gesture and movement the meaning of the words or the actions that are going on around you.'9 Benson considered this ability the infallible mark that indicated the greatest promise in a beginner-the extent to which they were able to register by the look in their eye, a movement, a position, a breath, a gesture, their relationship to the picture of the moment. The mere action of taking a breath, according to Benson, gave new life to the figure and brought a new life to the eye. This was, in his estimation, the sole condition that made it possible to convey thought, feeling or "life influence" to a large audience.

Much has been said of Benson's penchant for the athletic. Of this he says: 261.

I had somehow realized the extraordinary efficiency attained by Greek art along the lines of mental and physical develop­ ment, Having devoted so much time to athletics, I carried my athletic gospel with me on the stage. When I becajne my own manager they used to say that I was mad on the subject: that I acted more with my muscles than with my mind; but the fact remains that I did something to keep alive the athletic habit of body rendered necessary for the wandering actor in early days by the requirements of the caravan, scene-shifting, dance, pantomime, harlequinade, circus and sword play,11

Other things that he learned under the tutelage of more experienced actors included the traditional first position on the stage. He credited Irving with teaching him that the actor should, as a general rule, stand much as a fencer stands, at attention, only "less constrained, with the feet wider apart, the body three-quarter face to the audience," He felt that the actor could then command with his face the whole audience without moving his feet, and without "giving any impression of unreality or staginess," Ellen Terry taught him about exits and entrances. It was through her efforts that he realized what to him became a basic rule, that a stage exit would always end three yards beyond the line of sight, and "an entrance commence at the same point," According to Benson, it was an education in itself to watch these old actors. 262, steeped in the traditions of the past, and to know how those traditions always strove never to overstep the 12 "modesty of nature•" He was told by other older actors t 'Your capital,' urged Fernandez, 'is your soul, your body, your Voice, your life, and all life's energy. To become an adequate artist you have to train, teach, develop and govern that complex entity yourself,'

Vezin and Lacey took up where Fernandez left off: 'Dance, fence, sing; take every form of exercise; train as you would for athletics, as the old actors trained. Watch everyone, listen to everyone, observe the children, the navvies, the sailors, the aboriginals, their power, their grace. You cannot act grace ; you have got to have sufficient power and command of your limbs to be able to use them with the greatest economy of energy; your will, your nervous system and muscles so knit together, and so tense, that you can express whatever emotion or thought may be required instantly, without any hesitation— in clear simple outline, as it were, with the ease and readiness of what is called good form, Grace is the inseparable accompaniment of power properly applied. After receiving this kind of advice, Benson began to understand why Irving, when he had asked him some months earlier how to prepare for the stage, had sadly shaken his head as he answered: 'I cannot tell you; since the stock companies, which used to be the only schools, have ceased, 263.

When attempting to place Benson's acting theories into historical perspective one must remember that the art of acting had undergone a change during the middle years of the Victorian era. Changes in technique had become evident by the seventies. These changes had been made necessary by the development of the long run naturalistic plays of Tom Robertson, The old stock company style of acting had become stale and mechanical. The characters of the post-Robertson plays had to be as "real" as the doorknobs or the chairs, and actors, old and new, were obliged to meet the passion for verisimilitude, and produced an imitation of the "real" figures of English middle class society. Instead of declaiming their lines, they chatted in a "natural" mumble I they did not move across the stage with con­ scious grace and deliberation, but shambled about with a fine sense of English manners. The new breed of players did not betray unseemly feeling in emotional crisis, but bit their lips or momentarily clenched their fists. These actors may have presented a more accurate representation of English life than the boom and bluster of the old guard, but they almost brought about the demise of the art of acting through their "diminuâtion of histrionics" as a result of this naturalistic drama. Larger than life size playing 264.

gradually grew out of fashion; the heroic style had 14 become the "ham" routine.

In all probability, Benson's acting style did not coincide with the growing trend toward realistic acting that Findlater mentions. Benson's style of performance

was undoubtedly an eclectic one. His early training for the stage consisted of elocution lessons taught by older actors experienced in the more heroic approach

to acting and work in stage movement— ballet, fencing, and other athletic disciplines which would aid in developing an agile and graceful body. This training undoubtedly influenced his firm belief in the technical aspects of vocal production and the thorough

command of the body. His early association with his idol Henry Irving added another dimension to his acting technique. Here he was given a first hand introduction to the romanticism that characterized this actor-manager's

style of acting. Irving was predisposed to the presen­ tation of idealized effects rather than realistic

causes. By watching and listening to the older, more experienced actors in the Irving-Lyceum company, he learned the techniques of listening to the other actors on stage, becoming a part of the stage picture, and making exists and entrances that carried meaning beyond the boundries of the stage setting. Assimilating these F"'"-'

265»

techniques, he added much vigorous physical action to his own performances--leaping over tables as Petruchio in The Taming of the Shrew or swinging from tree to tree

as Caliban in The Tempest■ The vitality and vigor of this type of physical action must have added a lifelike dimension to his performances. This is not to be

confused with the naturalistic underplaying of those actors belonging to the Robertsonian school of acting.

His acting style primarily based on technique, Benson was not an innovator in the art of acting. His style, more readily acceptable in the early years of his long career, unquestionably became more outmoded as time passed. What he did possess, much to his credit,

was an undying love for the theatre, a devotion to its causes, and a thorough sense of physical discipline which provided him with an uncanny amount of energy and stamina. By sheer persistance he kept alive a style of acting which might have died out during the early years of the century. According to Findlater,

Benson’s acting style is what provided the basis for the revival of the art of English acting by " and her henchmen.' 266.

The Acting Teacher

Thus, all of the difficulties Benson encountered

during his formative years as an actor influenced his ideas about acting. The lessons, so quickly learned during his few short weeks at the Lyceum with Irving*s company, more than likely formed his attitudes about helping others l e a m the art of the theatre. The demise of the local stock companies and the circuit system precluded the kind of laboratory training that had helped aspiring actors and actresses become schooled in their craft. While at the Lyceum, he had heard Irving say about these stock companies* "In six months, my boy, one used to l e a m more about acting than your young people would learn in six years, possibly a life- 16 time, under a long-run system." Thus, the foundations were laid for the formation of an acting school that would produce many performers over the years ahead.

Loosely organized, pedagogically unstructured until after the turn of the century, this acting school undoubtedly provided the kind of experience that Benson

had been seeking when he first joined the Bernard- Alleyn Company and finally the Bentley Company. The Times said of Benson; "F.R.B., it was said, did not 17 teach acting; he gave opportunities of learning." And so, Benson's company, in addition to presenting Shakespeare 267. throughout England, became an active and productive acting laboratory, a school that provided young actors the chance of serving an apprenticeship in the theatre. He gave the "opportunity of learning," an opportunity that had not been readily available to him,

Benson's methodology of instruction, prior to the establishment of his formally organized travelling drama school in I90I, was described earlier as being loosely organized and pedagogically unstructured. Fortunately for the researcher, Arthur Machen, in his introduction to Lady Benson's Mainly Players : Bensonian Memories, describes the type of training the neophyte actor experienced in the Benson company prior to the establishment of the school, Machen had joined the

Bensons during the latter part of I9OO, At that time he was thirty-nine years old, an established author, and a man in search of himself after the death of his wife. The year I900 was one of reorientation and adjustment for this man and he did strange things in an effort to find a new pattern of life. One of these things was to join the Benson company, an action which helped to establish the pattern of his life for the 18 next nine years. He did not stay long with the company, but joined other companies to play more important roles. However, it was with the Bensons that he learned 268. his new craft. His recollections of his apprenticeship are useful and charming. They can undoubtedly be considered an accurate account of the kind of experience the fledgling actor encountered in the Benson company, a company that was "good in a super-eminent degree; it was blessed."^9

The beginner, according to Machen, had an easy time for the first few months of his stage existence.

His memory was not taxed to a very great extent by the parts he was required to leam. For a time he merely did "walk ons" and was required to shout "ShameI" "Down with himI" "God and Saint George," and so forth in unison with the others. Then by degrees he was given a line or two, half a dozen lines, a dozen lines; his time for "study" was certainly not extensive. But he was not a lazy fellow. Roughly speaking, he was required to be in the theatre or within call-boy range of it for the better part of a day. He was either actively rehearsing, or else he was

"standing by," which seemed at first a pleasant form of idleness, but which soon became tediousness. Machen describes as a wearing job, the waiting hour after hour to say I "I'll bring you to him straight," and finding likely enough that even that is not so simple a matter as it seemed. There was a right way and a wrong way to 269. do everything on stage, even a right way and a wrong way of doing nothing at all "save standing perfectly still;" and that right way had to be learned, *,

Still, Machen says further, the beginner's day was not a very hard one. But the nights were a different matter » Remember that he is a beginner, that he has not only to l e a m the business of the stage but also the business of the dressing room; that the use of grease paints is un­ familiar to him, that the manufacture of a probable sixteenth century beard and moustache out of something that looks like an attenuated pigtail is yet a nightly mystery and miracle to him, that he knows nothing whatever of the tricks and manners of medieval and Elizabethan costume, and that, anyhov/, he has never been required to dress and undress at lightning speed. Remember, too, that the beginner dresses, often enough, at the top of three flights of stairs; the rooms near the stage being reserved properly for the actors with the real parts. He continues to discuss Mr, Beginner during the evening hours and the performance:

He comes early, if he be wise, and finds him­ self one of seven in a dressing room built for four. There are piles of clothes everywhere, sometimes piles of armour as well. Armour and bundles of clothes are heaped on the floor, on the theatre baskets, under the dressing place, upon it. There is hardly space to move in and out of the room ; properly again, Mr, Beginner does not get the most brilliantly lighted place to dress at. He does pretty well with his first costume and make-up, doing all at 270.

leisure. He may chance to hear some criticism of his beard, as to his notions on the subject of * lining* when the other actors come in, and he will probably receive a brief and kindly practical lesson on this or some other matter.

Mr. Beginner goes down to do his first "bit"; it might be something like "Mistress, your father bids you leave your books. You know it is your sister's wedding day." This great effort accomplished, the Major Domo must quickly transform himself into an "awkward servant" which entails a complete make-up and costume change. Racing down two or three flights of stairs from the dressing room in fear of being late for his next entrance, he soon finds himself valiantly trying to avoid the shower of plates that Petruchio is throwing at him and his colleagues. He is smacked across the face with a burned leg of mutton and half of his face is then covered with a black compound. He races back up the stairs to clean it off, and then back down to accompany Petruchio and Katharine on their journey.

Another quick rush to change into an officer of the law, and finally a complete change of make-up and costume: "crepe hair— quite different from that used by the

Major Domo"— and an elaborate and festal Elizabethan costume with all sorts of trim requiring extra time and patience for unpracticed hands to make the proper buttons or hooks meet the proper button-holes or eyes. 271,

Machen sums up the education of the neophyte actor:

Now, that is a busy evening for Mr. Beginners and all that, of course, is pure elements and ABC. His real work will begin a year or two later. He has to study parts, though he still continues to walk on and execute quick changes and race up and down stairs, and he has to find time to learn these parts, though he is rehearsing most of the day and playing most of the night. And, somehow, he contrives to do it all, because he loves the work and rejoices in it, because it gives a relish to his tankard of ale; because he does it all for fun.20

Lady Benson recalls that in the early days of the Benson company a kind of unwritten code of discipline existed among the senior members for the benefit of the junior members. If one of the more experienced performers received a good notice in a local paper, he would not refer to it. If he had the bad taste to do so, he was immediately snubbed by the other members of the company. Lady Benson calls this procedure "a most efficacious remedy for the disease of swelled headI" She describes the esnrit-de-coros that developed in the company. The ruthless but humorous severity of the "old brigade" mentioned above contributed to the fellowship of the company. It became a kind of ûeemasonry, a "kind of miniature public school, where no one ranked save as a brother."

The success of one was the success of all, and the artist's work became merged into the Benson work. In 272. that way, "no one member played for his own hand, but 21 for the good of the whole."

Other aspects of the training program were dis­ cussed by Lady Benson. She recalled the versatility of the actors. They were trained to be versatile.

Parts were not described as "Irving parts" or "Terry parts." Instead, these actors were discussed in the part. "The part was not written round the personality, but an actor merged his personality in the part." Salaries were quite low, but Lady Benson recalls few grumbles about this circumstance. The young actors considered themselves lucky if they got any money for their first engagement. "One looked upon it as an apprenticeship, and the cost of learning one's business."

Older actors like George Weir, an excellently skilled low comedian, were great inspiration to the young players. Watching him perform, working with him on stage, talking with him in simple conversation 22 provided an excellent education.

Anyone who has ever worked in summer stock as an apprentice can fully appreciate the kind of education that was provided by the Benson company. The practical experience is invaluable. The amount of skill that can be developed by learning from those actors more skilled 273. and at home on the stage is inestimable. The doubling of roles, the disciplining at rehearsals, the sensing of what is right and wrong from those who are more proficient, the "feeling out" of an audience while being a spear carrier, all provide a background that a thousand years in the classroom will not equal. The years before the formal organization of the drama school were truly years of Benson giving "opportunities of learning,"

In 1901, persuaded by Otho Stuart, Benson founded his travelling drama school. Here began the "formal" organization of the educational policy that had been undoubtedly going on from the beginning of Benson's touring management. An advertisement in an unidenti­ fied paper of I903 described the school as providing instruction in fencing, elocution, dancing (by specially engaged teachers), and rehearsal sessions conducted by

Mr, Benson, Prospective students were warned that the management in no way undertook to provide engagements. Tuition was set at fifty pounds for a forty week term.

Railway fares on tour were also included in the tuition,

The first students in the Benson school joined in the late summer of 1901, Included in the group were Dorothy Green, Mable Moore, Hutin Britan, and Walter Hampden, 2?4.

Miss Green, in a letter to J.C. Trewin, remembered

that the school day began with early morning fencing lessons. These sessions lasted for an hour. Rehearsals 2li began at eleven o'clock. Eleanor Elder, a later student, recalled some of Benson's teaching methods. The students would have to line up in the wings and go on stage singly to kneel and say "My Lord, the Duke of Buckingham is taken." This was to be accomplished without getting too near to the throne, without going down on the wrong knee, and without speaking while in motion. Later, a more difficult assignment included sitting on a packing case throne and crying "Off with his headI Away towards SalisburyI" and then making an exit.^^

The unpublished recollections of Darby Foster, a student who later became Benson's leading man, re­ called the regimen of the student. He took a full course. Mornings were spent in the theatre, fencing, dancing, listening to lectures, walking on as Gentleman, Soldier, Courtier, Guard, Banner-bearer, Servant, in short anything that was needed. He recalled that Benson gave magnificant talks on acting and production, health and life. He would put a chair in the middle of the room and say: "Now you are a King. Enter and sit down as a King." They were taught to walk, to 275. stand, to sit still, to listen, to use broad gesture, to move gracefully, and to use their limbs freely, Foster stated that one could tell a Bensonian by his grace of movement. This he attributed to the hours spent studying fencing with a very clever ex-sergeant.

Poster related that the ambitious student had to work on his own if he wanted to succeed. He spent hours at the side of the stage watching the more established artists getting their effects. He recalled that there was always a scramble for understudies and small parts. Everyone in the company knew their jobs and the students soon learned theirs. It was not unusual for Benson to return a student's money and tell them gently that it was no good to continue. One of the secrets of the 26 Benson training was a sense of humor,

Basil Rathbone, in a letter to Trewin, recalled Benson's saying to him: "You are on trial. Young actors are like two-year-old racehorses— they may show promise, but it is impossible to estimate their potential until they are three-year-olds," He stated that there were many examples of Benson's sensitivity and under­ standing in the training of young actors. He gave one example :

I was playing Bernardo in Hamlet, and also doubling Cfuildenstern with a walk-on courtier 276.

in the last act. In the opening scene on the parapet of Elsinore Mr. Benson suddenly stopped the rehearsal and asked for a quality in the voice that would show it was night. He asked me if I was not aware of the difference in the quality of one's voice when it was used at night. 'You may be enjoying yourself at some party', he said, 'and you walk out of the house into the garden. As you continue to talk with your companion, your voice almost unconsciously, changes its quality as the mystery of night folds its cloak gently about you. '

According to Dorothy Green's introduction to Benson and the Bensonians. beginners unconsciously learned taste, good behavior, and respect for great figures of the stage, past and present. They had the advantage of watching many fine actors at work. These actors were always ready to give help and advice. In the theatre there was strict discipline 1 punc­ tuality at rehearsals, careful attention to dress and make-up, and silence in the wings during a performance. Benson brought to rehearsals an eager enthusiasm, "and 2ft that most important quality, excitement,"

In his memoirs, Benson recalls a discussion he had had with Henry Ainley about his teaching. Ainley told Benson: "You didn't teach us, though you never knew it. Rodney and Weir did. We knew what you wanted and tried to do it. You were so fearfully aloof and detached." To this, Benson replied: 277.

Thank you; I don't think I am so much now. A teacher can only teach by showing the student that he, the teacher, is till more keen to l e a m then the taught. One thing I taught you, that if your body wasn't fit, and your nervous and muscular energy kept up, nor anything else that may become an actor and a man. I always say that what I can teach, or try to teach, is nothing. The opportunity I give you of learning is everything. Possibly I, or your fellow students, or the older members of the company, above all the audience, can help to bring out what you have in you, or show you that you have mistaken your vocation. Ainley replied that Benson was right about the other actors. He said that Benson used to make the company terribly angry, but that they never let anyone else curse him. That privilege they reserved for themselves. Ainley said that Benson worked the young company "like blazes;" that he didn't spare them, but then he didn't spare himself either. Benson had never said that he was tired, so, of course, the members of the company couldn't say that they were. He then commented on how Benson always rushed the members of the company out to play football, or cricket, or hockey after a rehearsal. He added that this sort of strenuous regime sometimes saved them from trouble. Ainley recognized the fact that the exercise Benson forced his company into was a healthy routine for mind and body. He recalled that Prank Rodney was the most finished actor on the stage. Rodney would take hours coaching a beginner. 278.

helping him to learn the best way of making an exit or an entrance. George Weir would show the neophytes how things had been done in the old school Ainley recalled saying cockily to Weir one morning: "I know all my words, George." "Yes, laddie, but d'ye know how to use them?" Ainley referred to Weir as "One of the Olympians on the heights, whose home was in the peaks towards which we Bensonians humbly and laboriously sought to climb." Benson's final reply to Ainley concerned his teaching: "I gave you the opportunity of learning, of trying your wits in the best drama in the world— Shakespeare before the great master, an English audience."^9

The difference between the learning experience

offered before and after I90I is obvious. After I90I, Benson combined the two aspects of his own education— laboratory experience and instruction in basic techni­

ques, What the student learned was determined, according

to Mr. Foster, by the amount of energy and effort he put into that situation. Benson truly provided "opportunities of learning." His students, according to Miss Green, learned unconsciously, as well as con­ sciously. Benson's company helped to fill in the gap

created by the demise of the stock and repertory companies.

It is likely that Benson was not a great teacher in 279. the strictest sense of the word. He did not place stringent demands on his students. From what his students have said, the demands that were placed on them were of a strictly personal nature. Benson taught by example. He devoted his life and his energies to the theatre arts, setting an admirable example for his students to follow. He must have been successful in his endeavors. (See Appendix B.)

A Personal Glimpse of Frank Benson

A brief look at the man and some of his personal beliefs and idiosyncrasies will help to establish the kind of person he was, Benson did not believe in self­ advertising.' He steadily refused to be interviewed during the early years of his career. Gradually, ac­ cording to Mrs. Benson, he had to give into the demands for interviews. However, he never advertised himself or spoke of his art in a personal way. He felt strongly that an actor became stale and mechanical in a role after several consecutive nights of playing in the same play. In his fear of giving a lifeless performance, he took plays off while the box office receipts showed their success, thereby ruining his chances at making money. Lady Benson felt that this rash act probably led people to believe that all the plays were financial 280.

failures.

Earlier references to Benson's casual attitude

about clothes provide insight into the man's attitudes about personal appearance. To say that he was a "casual" would be an understatement. Lady Benson re­ called that his attitudes about clothes and food were ruled by theories. He thought that it hardened a man to be cold, to eat only twice a day, to wear digited

socks, and to sleep in flannel sheets with his jaw tied up, like Lazarus, to avoid an open mouth. It was healthy to have the windows open day and night, and to have no fires: to drink quarts of milk, and eat only apple tart for supper. He did not smoke or drink. He loved to dive in the river or the sea when

the now was deep on the ground and in winter he refused to wear an overcoat.-'

Frank Benson surrounded himself with the aura of an elder statesman. He gave his company the

impression that he was aloof and unapproachable.

Lady Benson remembered hearing him called inhuman. She agreed that in his early days of management, "this was to a certain extent true, but he purposely exaggerated his aloofness, to strengthen his control of a Company where most of the male members were considerably older 281, than himself," During the period of her engagement to Benson, she recalled conversations similar to the following I 'Can you believe anyone ever called F.R.B, by an endearing name?' 'Oh, I think perhaps his nurse may have done so,' 'I don't, I am sure directly he was breeched he was called "Mr, Benson," and I'm positive his mother shook hands with him, on saying "good night," as he lay in his cradle,' 'Fancy anyone ever dandling F.R.B,' Whatever their attitudes, the company members respected Benson, calling him "Sir" as a matter of course. A few of the younger ones, talking together, might speak of him with affection as "Pa" and say before a Tempest "Pa's climbing tonight," but nobody would use this to his face. A tradition of respect for Benson quickly developed, and the senior members of the company saw to it that the rule was kept,^^ An amusing anecdote told by Lady Benson in her memoirs suggests the type of aura Benson surrounded himself with as well as the atmosphere of the company itself. She was discussing a group of newly arrived ballet dancers employed for one of the more spectacular productions: At another time, one of these ladies was bewailing the 'dull respectability of the Company, and one of the men asked her how she generally amused herself in other Companies. 'Oh,' she said, 'I generally mash the Boss,' 'Well, why don't you mash Benson?' 'Mash Benson?' she answered, 'not I, 'E's too 'aggard,'33 282,

The Bensonian Spirit

The kinship, the close band, the basis for the

brotherhood of the Bensonians, according to Trewin, was directly related to the good will that Frank Benson fostered in his company. Throughout his life, Benson

always looked for something to praise. He was not a man given to cynicism or malice. Perhaps if he had had a harder fight in his earlier years, he might

have judged others more harshly. Something might have been gained, much lost; "the society of the Bensonians was not founded on ill-will,

Newcomers discovered that they were known as

"puddings" when they arrived in the company, and as "earwigs" when they got their first small parts. An old Bensonian was called "an ancient mackeral," The

Bensonian anthem became Christopher Wilson's Bolingbroke March from his Richard II music, A few notes whistled anywhere, in a street of Dublin, Halifax, Stratford,

or even in mid-Strand, were enough to draw towards the sound any Bensonian within range. In those days one was nearly always about,Benson regretted it when his players left him to go elsewhere once they had proved their value. Some, however, were permanent, George Weir, Alice Denvil, and Elinor Aickin 283. were perhaps the most dedicated of those that stayed.

Younger people often stayed longer than they would have in other circumstances because of their loyalty to Benson. The fellowship of the company was constantly changing and renewing itself along with the personnel of the company. But those who left never wavered in their pride of having been a Bensonian.

The strength of the Bensonian spirit was demon­ strated in many ways. The formation of the company into a commonwealth during the season at the Comedy has already been mentioned. In order to keep the Bensons from selling all their personal belongings during the bleak season at the Comedy, the members of the company kept the season going by taking only what money they needed for survival. Otho Stuart, who left the company to become a manager in his own right, lent Benson money several times. Early in the new century the

Old Bensonian annual dinners were inaugurated. They were to continue for many years. At these festive occasions "Pa” was properly addressed as "Sir" and gave speeches fitting the occasion. Trewin quotes Henry Ainley about the Old- Bensonian's feeling for Benson: "What we feel towards him is a mixture of love and fear.

It is almost a religious feeling compelled by his blazing spirit."3? In I905 the Bensonians marked their Filmed as received without page(s) ,

UNIVERSITY MICROFILMS. 285. made by former members of the Benson company. These remarks provide a strong indication of what the rela­ tionship between Benson and his company was like. Oscar Asche, at the time of Benson's knighthood, described his eight years as a member of the troupe as "the most enjoyable time I have ever spent as a member of a theatrical company." He related that the work had been hard, but good comradeship had been plentiful. Everyone in the company had worked together in good spirit. Asche praised the "great feature of our life on tour"— the time given to athletics. He recalled that

Benson could be stern at timest I remember once we were playing 'Richardlll* at Hartlepool. I had to come on as the mes­ senger to tell Richard (Benson), who was surrounded by officers, about the approach of Richmond's army. While I was delivering the message I heard a titter on the stage. 'Pa's' grip on my throat tightened and I was nearly throttled. The officers, upstage, had been regaling each other with funny stories and could not restrain their laughter. The delinquents were 'called' for rehearsal at 8 o'clock the following morning. They found the stage door closed and had to wait outside until 12 o'clock, when 'Pa' strolled up and told them that they could go. There was very little laughter on the stage after that. He related another story that reflected the degree of affection of the people of Ireland for the Bensons t Benson is extremely popular in Ireland, and it was at Cork, I think, that he experienced one of his most trying moments. It was the last night of his visit there, and he and 286,

Mrs, Benson were together on the stage when two cabbages were thrown at them from the stalls, *Pa' was furious, and the curtain was rung down. Then one of the company picked up the cabbages and began examining them and, to everyone's astonishment, found a gold watch in one and a gold bracelet for Mrs. Benson in the other,39

Arthur Machen has already been mentioned in connection with the training provided by the Benson company. Other comments include his feeling tha% his entry into the acting profession could not have been made under any happier circumstances. He comments on the training that the company provided: It has been said, I think, more than once, and said by men far more qualified to speak than I, that if it had not been for the Benson Company, acting as an ordered art, with its technique and tradition, would pretty well have perished out of England,,,.But under the training provided by the Benson Company it was a man's fault if he did not learn to act; it was pretty definite proof that there was no acting in his composition.40

In a letter to H,0, Nicholson, written shortly after Benson's death, he said further: I have known for years the F.R.B. was a very great man; but it was only when I heard the news of his death that I found the formula of his greatness. He was great in the manner of a conductor, who may not play the violin as well as his leader, but who inspires his leader and every player in his orchestra, from the first violin to the triangle--and I wish I had not given him so much trouble h. over the line, 'I'll bring you to him straight,' 28?.

In a letter to Trewin, , who had

joined Benson as an eighteen year old in I923, described

Benson as "a great man." He said that Benson's greatness shone through him irresistibly even when his acting was bad. "And his greatness was shot through with a wonderful benevolence that he never quite lost. Even in his Shylock it shone like a halo when he should hZ have been most villainous."

Clarence Derwent, who later became a very popular actor in the United States, spent four years as a member of Benson's number one company. He started with this company in September of 1904. He recalled that rehearsals under Benson were an inspiration. The productions were like "old wine that had been ripened and matured over the years." Derwent added that these productions had the unity and cohesion of the Art Theatre or the D'Oyly Carte Company which had achieved the same kind of perfection with the Gilbert and Sullivan operettas. Team work was mentioned as the guiding spirit of the Benson company. According to Mr. Derwent, "There is not a Shakespearean perfor­ mance in the English language anywhere in the world which has not been influenced directly or indirectly by Mr. Benson's productions."^^ 288.

William Poel, the noted Elizabethan revivalist,

spent six months with Benson, serving as stage manager.

He started shortly after Christmas of I883, According to his biographer, Robert Speaight, he found much to criticize but much also to admire t

...for Benson was not only himself an actor of remarkable quality— an inspired amateur, he has sometimes been called— but he was a born leader of men and he had gathered round him, already, a brilliant company of actors. For a man like Poel, who was dominated by a single idea, practical experience was an essential, a saving grace. It was important to him to realise what actors were like; how far they were malleable; where, in any particular case, the line had to be drawn between personality and impersonation. He had to learn what could or could not be done for Shakespeare within the limits of the proscenium arch; he had to guess how far you could induce in a modem audience an Elizabethan frame of mind. He had never before worked with actors as good as the Benson company, and they helped to keep him in touch, with the hard, capable, often unimaginative core of the profession.

Poel, at the time of Benson's knighthood, believed that the honor was richly deserved and he was instrumental in bringing about a national testimonial in Benson's honor. In comparing Benson with Irving, he felt that Benson had a larger and healthier grasp of his re­ sponsibility as a manager towards his author. The actors who worked with Benson, according to Poel, were encouraged and expected to do their utmost to give individuality and prominence to their parts. 289.

The affection with which Henry Ainley regarded Benson was touching. Trewin quotes Ainley*s remarks at a 1916 luncheon in Benson's honor: During the thirty years of our existence no Bensonian has ever addressed F.R.B. familiarly. To his face, *Mr. Benson, sir*j behind his back, *That blighter Pa.* Large, angry men have entered his dressing-room to take his life for not goving them the parts of King Lear and Macbeth, but they have always emerged smiling, gladly taking a pound a week less, and doubling Francisco and Rosencrantz and the Second Gravedigger. Athletically and spiritually, he not only turned men into actors, but sometimes actors into men.^o

In later years, the years just before his death, Benson welcomed the visits of Ainley. Whenever Ainley was out of London, he wrote letter after letter to Benson, who preserved them carefully. Thqy contained such passages as these :

(from Broadstairsi undated): Maestro, I met a priest on the sands to-day, one Sir Oliver Martext. He and I spoke of you with great affection. He looks about your age. He has the greatest admiration for you as a man, and by some strange chance, admires your prowess as an actor. Of course, I said you were not considered to ^ an actor. You were knighted because you had so many children— from Asche Ainley to Zebedee ....Like all .the world, I bow my knee to you, Harry Ainley 290,

(from Broadstairsi December 10, 1936)

Dear Sir Frank, ...We shall be a happy flock when we meet in Heaven. George Weir will have found a hos­ telry where travellers must be content with unfilled cans. My love and homage. Henry Ainley And finally I (from Broadstairsi undated)

Beloved Master, The blessing of all Old Bensonians upon you, and may God smile always upon your path. You are the finest man I have ever had the honour and privilege of serving. Harry^?

It was perhaps fitting that this man— Henry Ainley— should take part in the last ceremonies honoring Sir Frank Benson. It was his privilege, at a special memorial service conducted by and for "Benson*s men", to deliver the following lines from King Lean Vex not his ghosti 0, let him pass I he hates him That would upon the rock of this tought world Stretch him out longer.... I have a journey, sir, shortly to go» My master calls me,— I must not say no. FOOTNOTES

The Daily Telegraph (London), January 28, 1926. 2 J.C. Trewin, The English Theatre (London: Paul Elak Publishers, Ltd., 1948), p. 95.

^The Observer (Londo 4 Benson . p. 159.

^Ibid., pp. 159-160,

*Ibid., pp. 162-163.

?Ibid., pp. 163-164,

®Ibid., p. 174,

9%bid., pp. 174-175.

l°Ibid.. p. 175.

l^Ibid.. pp. 178-179.

l^ibid.. p. 180.

l^ibid.. pp. 180-181,

14 Richard Findlater, Victor Gollancz Ltd., 1952), p. 80.

^^Ibid.. p. 81.

l^Ibid.. pp. 245-246. 291. 292.

^^The Times (London), November 4 , 1938.

18 Wesley D. Sweetser, Arthur Machen (New York: Twayne Publishers, Inc., 1964), p. 30.

^^Lady Benson, p. 15•

ZOlbid.. pp. 17-19.

2^ Ibid.. p. 46.

Z^lbid.. pp. 54-55.

^^Unidentified newspaper clipping, Benson File, Enthoven Collection, Victoria and Albert Museum, London, England.

24 Quoted by J.C. Trewin in Benson and the Ben­ sonians . p. 133. 26 •^In a letter to J.C. Trewin and quoted in Benson and the Bensonians. p. 166. 26 Quoted by Trewin in Benson and the Bensonians. pp. I90-I9I.

27 'Quoted by Trewin in Benson and the Bensonians. p. 201.

28 Trewin, Benson and the' Bensonians. p. ix.

^^Benson, pp. 312-314.

^®Lady Benson, p. 50.

3^Ibid.. p. 51.

S^ibid.. pp. 52-53.

33lbid.. p. 95. 293.

^^Trewin, Benson and the Bensonians. p. 50•

. p. 165.

3*Ibid.. p. 75.

3?Ibid.. p. 149.

5 ® l M d . , p. 175.

^^The Weekly Dispatch (London), May 7, 1916.

Arthur Machen, Things Near and Far (Londoni Martin Sacker, 1926), pp. 161-162, L 4 Quoted by Trewin in Benson and the Bensonians. p. 272.

42 Quoted by Trewin in Benson and the Bensonians. p. 249.

^^Clarence Derwent, The Derwent Story (New York: Henry Schuman, 1953)» P* 33.

^^Robert Speaight, William Poel and the Eliza- bethan Revival (London: William Heinemann Ltd., 1954), pp. 59-60 .

^^Ibid.. p. 216.

46,Trewin, Benson and the Bensonians. p. 218.

Quoted by Trewin in Benson and the Bensonians. p. 269. CHAPTER VI

CONCLUSIONS

During the last two decades of the nineteenth century, London remained the unquestioned center of English theatre. Henry Irving became the dominant producer of Shakespeare's plays in the theatre capital during this period. Later Herbert Beerbohm Tree and

Johnston Forbes-Robertson added their contributions to Shakespearean revival. The attitudes of these men nurtured the long run policy, established the accepted production standards, shaped the audience's tastes for Shakespeare, and selected the type of Shakespearean drama that was produced. Individually, these men approached Shakespeare with varying attitudes. Irving, following partially in the tradition of historical accuracy started by William Charles Macready and Charles Kean, sought to produce totally integrated, opulently mounted plays. He differed from Macready and Kean in that the he sought to display were tempered by a desire to create picturesque illusion rather than antiquarian authenticity. He wanted to give his audiences, whose taste for spectacle guided his production techniques, an 2 9 4 . 295. idealized illusion in which the key word was truth— things as they should be— as opposed to reality— things as they are in life. Therefore Irving's choice of Shakespearean plays for revival was governed in part by the opportunities they provided for romanticized visual display. Because he was involved with this kind of production technique, he cut the texts of the plays to allow for the changing of the scenery. He adapted Shakespeare to his purpose rather than serving the purpose of the playwright by presenting the plays as they were written. Tree used

Shakespeare in a somewhat similar manner. Although he was not solely devoted to historical authenticity, he was devoted to spectacular presentation. He used the plays of Shakespeare as a springboard for the showcasing of his production concepts. The generous use of livestock, real grass and foliage, water effects, and lush costuming sometimes over-shadowed the intrinsic merits of the plays. These production concepts helped to satisfy the established tastes of the audiences for visual delights, Forbes-

Robertson, who had entered the actor-manager profession so that he could play leading roles, dipped into the works of Shakespeare to find the kind of challenging roles he wanted to play, Hamlet, according to some critics, became his most famous role. There was little or no determination on his part to popularize Shakespeare generally. 296.

When the Benson company first appeared in London in

December of 1889, it was with the avowed purpose of re­ establishing the repertory system of presentation. Benson was convinced that the long run, the current and popular mode of presentation, had to be done away with. It was his firm belief that the long run drained the life-like quality out of the actor's performance. The actors in a long run quickly became stale in their roles as a result of constant repetition. He also wanted to make clear to London audiences that his company was not imbued with the new social drama, but was instead devoted to the production of Shakespeare in as pure a form as possible.

A third goal was to establish a policy in which his productions did not feature stars. The ensemble playing of the company was to be the main attraction. Every person in his company, Benson believed, was a part of a well rounded performance in which every artist was given the opportunity of doing his or her best. By Benson's own admission, these goals were not totally achieved. His lack of financial stability and backing, his failure to adver­ tise his productions properly, his inability to equal the visual spectacle of the firmly established London producers, and his reputation as a "provincial" prevented him from accomplishing these goals. 297.

Ten years later, Benson again tried to establish his reputation as an actor-manager in the theatrical circles of London, Once again he promulgated his ideas about reviving Shakespeare's plays as written rather than as adapted, freed from all of trappings of spectacular scenery. He still believed in the virtues of the reper­ tory and ensemble systems versus the long run and the star systems. This time, however, he was not interested in revolutionizing the theatre of London, He had long since established his reputation in the provinces and at Stratford- Upon-Avon, London had become merely another stop on his tour schedule. He had realized that all of England v/as to be his stage, rather than a specific stage in

London, Several critics recognized his ideals andr commentary in contemporary periodicals praised his efforts at producing a purer Shakespeare in which all elements of production were subordinate to the dramatic interest in­ herent in the plays.

His appearances at the Lyceum in I9OO and at the Comedy in I9OI were not financially rewarding because they were carried on in direct opposition to the accepted norms and standards of production of Shakespeare as they were then known in London, In later years, he recalled with pleasure the recognition members of his company achieved among the ranks of the popular actor-manager- 298, producers of London as a result of their appearances in London under his aegis. Many of the actors that he trained became an integral part of the companies of those men who were established as the theatrical leaders of London, In 1913, on the eve of the Benson company's departure to the United States and Canada, The Times listed over ninety Bensonians who were actively working in the theatres of London,

Actors of the stature of Henry Irving and Ellen Terry.had lent great prestige to the London stage. In the provincial towns, however, the theatre and the pro­ fession of acting were still regarded, with sidelong glances. Once Benson determined to concentrate his energies on the provinces rather than on London, provin­ cial attitudes began to change. For here was a young man, well bom, well off, well educated, handsome, charming, athletic, and a complete stranger to the Bohemia of the

London theatre, at the head of a theatrical company which soon grew to be unlike any other theatrical company in England, The members of his company, many from better families, many educated in important universities, were intelligent and educated, placing them on a social scale several rungs above the average touring actor. These young spirits were full of energy, always playing cricket or hockey or swimming or running when they were not 299.

rehearsing. Even the most active members of the company were constantly trying to keep up with the boundless, energy of their leader, Frank Benson. The Bensonian spirit was enriched by a very strong and a very Bensonian

influence for good sense and good fellowship in hard work and play. These qualities earned the recognition and respect of the citizenry of the provincial towns and helped to provide audiences for the Benson company. The respecta­ bility that surrounded the Benson company undoubtedly aided in the general social acceptance of acting as a profession. Irving became the first actor to be honored with knighthood in 1897. Tree and Forbes-Robertson, among other, were similarly honored in the years following.

Benson, of course, v/as honored by King George V in I9I 6 * Thus, the social position of the actor had changed partially through the efforts of Frank Benson and his company.

The Benson company carried Shakespeare over the length and breadth of the . Through their efforts, many of the lingering prejudices against actors and the stage play were dissolved in cathedral city, in dingy manufacturing town, and in the centers of agricultural life. Shakespeare was rescued from death in school

examinations and the never opened gift book on parlor tables. The company gave the people of the provinces a 300. glimpse of the meaning and the value of art,

Shakespeare became Benson's master passion. He became the first actor-manager to produce all of the Folio with the exception of Troilus and Cressida and . By the advent of World War I , Shakespeare came to stand in Benson's mind for the spirit of England. He firmly believed that this spirit of England would regenerate the world.

Beginning in 1886 Stratford-Upon-Avon became the center of this world for Benson. He and his company spent thirty years giving the annual Shakespeare Festival performance in this little Warwickshire town that was the birthplace of Shakespeare. Benson became so integral a part of the life of the community that he was awarded the freedom of the town during the summer festival of I9IO.

The only man to receive that honor before him had been David Garrick during the Jubilee year of 1769» The award was given to Benson in recognition of the services he had rendered to the borough and to the nation by the single-minded devotion with which he had labored to awaken throughout the world a more lively and abiding sense of the true value of the works of Shakespeare, the town's most distinguished citizen. Benson felt that the only way Shakespeare could receive the proper respect due his 301.

works was to make these works readily available to the

English common man. If he were to preach the Gospel of Shakespeare, then all of England had to be his mission field. The bestowing of the Freedom of the Borough was one of the first formal honors Benson received recognizing his devotion to this cause. Knighthood was certainly

another.

During Benson's tenure at Stratford, the Festival

grew in popularity until it was expanded to four weeks in the spring and four weeks in the summer, becoming an integral part of the community. His devotion to the cause

of Shakespearean production, mirrored in a definite and perpetual joy expressed in his company|s performances, was communicated to the audiences. In 19&9 it was possible

for one to feel still the result of the Bensonian influence. The mention of his name to an older citizen of the community would bring a warm smile and a pleasant

story. The citizens of Stratford who remember him, or those who are dedicated to the cultural, historical and theatrical legacy of the area, regard Benson with a warm

affection. He had worked with his company and the com­ munity to create a proper memorial to its greatest citizen,

It had been a mission, not a business. 302.

The Benson company became the "nursery" of the

English stage. He provided opportunities to aspiring young actors and actresses that the death of the stock and repertory companies had denied them for a time. In his company the novice performer could stretch and test his talents while serving a valuable apprenticeship on the stage. While under-studying major roles, supering, walking on, and filling minor roles, the neophyte could l e a m from watching the elder, more experienced actors.

Playing a variety of roles in a variety of productions gave depth and breadth to the young performers. Their talents were polished and shaped by actual experience in a laboratory situation. The number of Bensonians who achieved prominance in the English theatre bears testimony to the success of this training ground,

Benson was not a great actor. He admitted that he had been inadequately trained. Because he worked so hard at all the many duties of an actor-manager, he seldom did himself justice in his own performances. When his mind was on his own performance and the part was particularly suited to his talents, as in Richard II which many critics accounted his best role, he was at least a very good actor. His mind, however, was almost always on the production as a whole. He was passionately devoted to the totality of his productions and their performance on the stage, 303.

Perhaps Benson's greatest achievement was his obedience, through more labor and disappointment and difficulty than befell the lot of most men in his position, to the noble passion which bade him carry as far as he could reach over the English speaking world the glory and the fun of Shakespeare and his own high vision of the English spirit. His dedication to the art of the theatre, free of all ego-centric attitudes, might serve as a fine example to the would-be artist of today. His tenacity in the face of repeated failure, his discipline, his dedication to his art and to Shakespeare serve as a valuable object lesson to the theatre men of today. His record is proof that self-aggrandizement is not the proper goal in the theatre today. Rather, the goal of the theatre should be to serve the heart and soul of man. APPENDIX A

The following list gives the plays produced each season that Benson was at Stratford# The asterisk denotes the Birthday Play,

1886 (Festival lasted one week)

Hamlet ♦ Othello Richard III The Rivals The Corsican Brothers

1887 (Festival lasted one week) The Merry Wives of Windsor * The Merchant of Venice Richard III Priest or Painter She Stoops to Conquer

1888 (Festival lasted one week) Romeo and Juliet * Hamlet A Midsummer Night*s Dream Andrea, or Mine Enemy The Belle's Stratagem

1891 (Festival lasted one week) The Tempest * Hamlet Much Ado About Nothing New Man and Old Acres

1892 (Festival lasted one week) Timon of Athens* A Midsummer Nleht's Dream Julius Caesar Twelfth Night 304. 305.

1893 (Festival lasted one week)

The Taming of the Shrew * Romeo and Juliet The Merchant of Venice The Merry Wives of Windsor Twelfth Night

(On August 17, Coriolanus planned for the Birthday but postponed because of Benson's illness, was played.)

1894 (Festival lasted one week) Much Ado About Nothing * Henry IV (Part Two) As You Like It Richard III The School for Scandal

1896 (Festival lasted one week) Richard II * Twelfth Night Julius Caesar Macbeth The Taming of the Shrew Hamlet

1897 (Festival lasted two weeks) Henry V * The Tempest The Merry Wives of Windsor Othello As You Like It Romeo and Juliet The Merchant of Venice The Tuning of the Shrew Much Ado About Nothing" Richard III The School for Scandal 306,

1898 (Festival lasted two weeks)

Antony and Cleopatra * Julius Caesar The Merchant of Venice Hamlet The Taming of the Shrew Twelfth Night Coriolanus The Merry Wives of Windsor Henry IV (Part Two) Richelieu

1899 (Festival lasted two weeks) Henry VI (Part Two) * Hamlet As You Like It Richard III Macbeth Twelfth Night Henry V The Merchant of Venice The Merry Wives of Windsor Richard II The Rivals

1900 (Festival lasted one week) Pericles. Prince of Tyre * As You Like It Othello Macbeth The Merchant of Venice

1901 (Festival lasted two weeks) Richard II * King John"" Henry IV Henry V Richard III Henry VI (Part Two) Much Ado About Nothing The Merry Wives of Windsor The Merchant of Venice As You Like it She Stoops to~~Conquer The School for Scandal 307-

1902 (Festival lasted three weeks) Henry VIII * Twelfth Night Othello Hamlet Romeo and Juliet King Lear The Merry Wives of Windsor The Taming of the Shrew Henry V The Rivils Richelieu

1903 (Festival lasted two weeks) The Winter's Tale * Hamlet Macbeth The Merry Wives of Windsor A Midsummer Night's Dream Every Man in his Humour

1904 (Festival lasted three weeks) Hamlet * The Merchant of Venice Richard II The winter's Tale The Merry Wives of Windsor King Lear Julius Caesar As You Like It Twelfth Night The Taming of the Shrew The Tempest Orestian Trilogy

1905 (Festival lasted three weeks) The Merchant of Venice * . the Merry Wives of Windsor Romeo and JulieT Much Ado About Nothing Richard II ------^ Henry Iv (Parts One and Two) 308,

Henry V Twelfth Night As You Like It Hamlet Macbeth Othello The Taming of the Shrew Edward II

1906 (Festival lasted three weeks) Much Ado About Nothing * Henry VI (All parts) Richard II Henry IV (Part Two) Richard III The Merchant of Venice King Lear A Midsummer Night's Dream The Taming of the Shrew Hamlet Julius Caesar Macbeth As You Like It She Stoops to Conquer Richelieu The Rivals

1907 (Festival lasted three weeks) Love's Labour*s Lost * Coriolanus The Merchant of Venice Othello Much Ado About Nothing As You Like It Henry V Twelfth Night The Taming of the Shrew Richard II Hamlet The Merry Wives of Windsor David Garrick The Country Girl Don Quixote 309.

1908 (Festival lasted three weeks)

A Midsummer Night's Dream * The Winter's Tale Richard III Henry V Romeo and Juliet Measure for Measure Hamlet Much Ado About Nothing Richard II The Tempest The Merry Wives of Windsor Macbeth Julius Caesar The Country Girl Dr. Johnson M. de Paris

1909 (Festival lasted three weeks) Cvmbeline * Julius Caesar Much Ado About Nothing Coriolanus Hamlet Henry V Richard III The Merchant of Venice Richard II King John The Merry Wives of Windsor Henry IV (Part One) Twelfth Night Henry VI (Part Two) The Taming of the Shrew Richelieu The Belle's Stratagem A Midnight Bridal The Passing of the Third Floor Back

1910 (Festival lasted three weeks) The Two Gentlemen of Verona * Hamlet The Winter's Tale Richard III Twelfth Night Much Ado About Nothing 310.

Coriolanus The Merchant of Venice Julius Caesar The Finer The Knieht of the Burning Pastie

Summer Festival (lasted three weeks)

The Winter's Tale Julius. Caesar Macbeth Twelfth Night As You Like It Richard II Hamlet Henry V The Merry Wives of Windsor The Piper Masques and Faces

1911 (Festival lasted three weeks)

Much Ado About Nothing * The Merry Wives of Windsor The Merchant of Venice Twelfth Night Othello Julius Caesar As You Like It Romeo and Juliet A Midsummer Night*s Dream Richard III The Critic

Summer Festival (July 22-August 19)

A Midsummer Night's Dream Henry V Kicnara II The Merchant of Venice Romeo and JulieT As You Like ït The taming of the Shrew flâmlêf— ------The Tempest 311'

1912 (Festival lasted three weeks)

Antony and Cleopatra * The t^ing of the Shrew The Merchant of Venice Henry V A Midsummer Night* s Dream Hamlet / Romeo and Juliet Coriolanus' Julius Caesar ï^weli'th Night Kichard TIT You Never Can Tell Felleas and Melisande £>he btoops to conquer

Summer Festival (August 3“31) A Midsummer Night's Dream The Merry Wives oi" Windsor As YOU Like It Ôthelio Henry v Antony and Cleopatra The Rivals Ir 1 WERe Ring

1913 (Festival lasted four weeks) Henry IV (Part Two) * Richard II The Merry Wives of Windsor Henrv V Richard III Much Ado About Nothing As You Like It Hamlet Pomoey the Great The Rivals The Devil's Disciple 312,

Summer Festival (August 2-30)

Hamlet The Merchant of Venice As You Like It Henry IV The Taming of the Shrew Much Ado About Nothing Twelfth Night Richard II King John Romeo and Juliet The Merry Wives of Windsor Richelieu Pompey the Great

1914 Summer Festival (August 1-29 )

Much Ado About Nothing The Merry Wives of Windsor The Merchant of Venice Richard II Henry IV (Part Two) Henry V As You Like It Twelfth Night Julius Caesar The Taming of the Shrew Romeo and JulieT

1915 (Festival lasted two weeks) Henry V * Julius Caesar Romeo and Juliet The Merry Wives"of Windsor The Merchant of Venice Hamlet ... Twelfth Night R&ohard III Coriolanus The Taming of the Shrew 313.

Summer Festival (July 31-August 28)

The Taming of the Shrew The Merry Wives of Windsor Henry IV ( Part ) Hamlet Henry V Richard III As You Like It Twelfth Night Romeo and Juliet Paolo and Francesca

1916 (Festival lasted two weeks) Henry V * The Merchant of Venice The Taming of the Shrew King John The Merry Wives of Windsor A Midsummer Night's Dream All's Well That Ends Well Hamlet Henry IV (Part Two) APPENDIX B

The following is a list of Old Bensonians compiled and published by The Times on September 18, I9I3 , This list of actors were for the most part still on the stage

"giving daily proof of the excellence of the training they received in Mr. Benson's great school of acting, unmatched in the history of the British stage."

Henry Ainley Hugh Moss Oscar Asche H.O. Nicholson P. Randle Ayrton Bernard Partridge James Berry A.S. Pigott Charles Bibby B.A. Pittar Graham Browne Nigel Playfair Alfred Brydone William Poel George Buchanan Stephen Phillips Harry Caine Charles Quartermmane Guy Rathbone William Calvert Frank Rodney Murray Carrington Herbert Ross O.B. Clarence G. Kay Souper Hannam Clark Otho Stuart Thalbery Corbett E. Lyall Swete Clarence Derwent Alfred Wareing James Fagan Edward Warburton George Fitzgerald Arthur Whitby A.E. George Harcourt Williams Arthur Grenville T.G. Worlock Herbert Gremwood George Weir Walter Hampden Elinor Aickin Henry Herbert Jessie Bateman H.R. Hignett Mrs. F.R. Benson Halliwell Hobbes Lilian Braithwaite Laurence Irving Tita Brand Moffat Johnston Cyril Keightley Hutin Britton Matheson Lange Alice Crawford Cecil Loyd Elsie Chester Arthur Machen Dorothy Dene Alice Denvil William Mollison Marion Denvil 3 1 4 . 315.

Frances Dillon Ethel McDowell Isadora Duncan Madge McIntosh Beryl Faber Jean Mackinlay Helen Farrar Mabel Moore Violet Farebrother Olive Noble Ada Farrar Rose Norreys Beatrice Ferrar Mona K. Oram Dorothy Green Constance Robertson Helen Haye Cissie Saumarez Lean Henman Gertrude Scott Nora Lancaster Frances Wetherall Kitty Loftus BIBLIOGRAPHY

Books

Aidan, Reynolds and William Charlton, Arthur Machen, Philadelphia: Dufour Editions, 19&4,

Arthur, Sir George, From Phelps to Gielgud, Freeport, New York: Books for Libraries Press, Inc,, 1967, Baker, H, Barton, History of the London Stage, New York: Benjamin Blom, Inc,, I969, Beerbohm, Max, ed, Herbert Beerbohm Tree, London: Hutchinson and Company, 1920, More Theatres, New York: Taplinger Publishing Company, I969, Benson, Constance, Mainly Players, London: Thornton Butterworth, Ltd,, l92o, Benson, Sir Frank, My Memoirs, London: Ernest Benn Limited, 1930. Brereton, Austin, The Life of Henry Irying, London: Longmans Green and Company, I9O8 , Bridges-Adams, W, The British Theatre, London: Longmans Green and Company, 1944, Brook, Donaldi A Pageant of English Actors, London: Rockliff Publishing Corporation Ltd,, 1950, Brown, Ivor and Fearon, George, Amazing Monument, London: William Heinemann, Ltd,, 1939* Buckley, R,R, The Shakespeare Revival, London: George Allen and Sons, 19H« 316. 317.

BurtonI E.J, The British Theatre. 1100-1900. London: Herbert Jenkins, i960. ^ Clunes, Alec. The British Theatre. London: Cassell and Company, Limited, 1964,

Craig, Edith and St. John, Christopher, eds. Ellen Terry's Memoirs. New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1952. Crosse, Gordon. Fifty Years of Shakespearean Playgoing. London: A.R. Mowbray and Company., Ltd., 1941. Derwent, Clarence. The Derwent Story. New York: Henry Schuman, 1953. Ellis, Ruth. The Shakespeare Memorial Theatre. London: Winchester Publications, Limited, i9^8. Ervine, St. John, The Theatre in My Time. London: Rich and Coryan, Ltd., 1933. Pindlater, Richard. The Unholy Trade. London: Victor Gollanoz, Ltd., 1952. Hartnell, Phyllis, ed. The Oxford Companion to the Theatre. London: Oxford University Press, 1957. Hudson, Lynton. The English Stage: 1850-1950. London: George G. Harrap and Company, Ltd., 1951. Irving, Laurence. Henrv Irving: The Actor and His World. New York: The Macmillan Company, 1952. Jaggard, Gerald. Stratford Mosaic. New York: Frederick Unger Publishing Company, i960. Machen, Arthur. Things Near and Far. London: Martin Seeker, I926. NiCO11, Allardyce. A History of Early Nineteenth Century Drama. 1ÔOO-Ï55Ü1 Vol. I . Cambridge : University Press, I93O. ______. A History of Late Nineteenth Century Drama. 1950-1900% Cambridge : University Press, 1949. 318,

Odell, George C.D. Shakespeare from Betterton to Irving, Vol. II. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons., 1920. Pearson, Hesketh. The Last Actor-Managers. London: Methuen and Company, Ltd., 1950. Rowell, George. The Victorian Theatre. London: Oxford University Press, 1956. Shattuck, Charles H. The Shakespearean Promptbook. Urvana, University of Illinois Press, 1963.

Short, Ernest. Introducing the Theatre. London: Eyre and Spottiswoods, I949. Sparrow, Walter Shaw. Memories of Art and Life. Lodnon: John Lane, I923. Speaight, Robert. William Poel and the Elizabethan Revival. London: William Heinemann, Ltd., 1954. Stoker, Bram. Personal Reminiscences of Henrv Irving. New Yorkl Macmillan Company, I9O6 . Sweetser, Wesley D. Arthur Machen. New York: Twayne Publishers, Inc., 1964.

Trewin, J.C. Benson and the Bensonians. London: Barrie and Rockliff, I960. ______. The English Theatre. London: Paul Elek Publishers, Ltd., 1948. . The Night Has Been Unrulv. London : Robert Hale Limited, 1957* The Story of Stratford-Upon-Avon. London : Staples Press, 1950, . Theatre Programme. London: Frederick Muller, Ltd., 1954V The Theatre Since 1900. London: - ^ Andrew bakers Limited, 1955j Watson, Ernest. Sheridan to Robertson. New York: Benjamin Blom, Inc., I963. 319,

Wilson, A.E, Edwardian Theatre. Londoni Arthur Barker Ltd., 1951• Winbum, Martha. Garrick’s Jubilee. Columbusi Ohio State University Press, 1964.

Winter, William. Vagrant Memories. New York: George H. Doran Company, 19i5t Yeats, W.B. Ideas of Good and Evil. New York: Russell and Russell, 1963.

Articles. Newspapers and Periodicals

The Athenaeum. I89O.

The Athenaeum. I9OO. Bettany, W.A. Lewis. "Criticism and Renascent Drama," The Theatre. XIX (June, I892), p. 277. Birmingham Post and Gazette. 1958. Blackwood’s Magazine. October, 1904. Comhill Magazine. May, I900. The Daily Telegraph (London). I926.

The Era. January 26, 1895» "The Festival at Stratford-on-Avon," The Sketch (April 20, 1898), p. 546.

The Fortnightly Review. May, I9OO. The Illustrated London News. I90O. The Illustrated Snorting and Dramatic News. I89O. Lawrence, W.J. "Scenery on Tour," The Magazine of Art (I896), pp. 477-479i The Manchester Guardian. December 4, I899.

The Morning Post (London). 1881. The Morning Post (London). I9OO. 320.

The^ Observor (London). January ?, 1940.

Pall Mall Gazette. 1889. The Saturday Review. February, I9OO.

The Saturday Review. July 28, I9OO. f "The Stage Under Victoria," The Theatre (November, I896), pp. 242-243.

The Standard (London). February, I9OO. Stratford-on-Avon Herald. I886-I916. Stratford-on-Avon•Herald. 1940. The Tatier. April 23, I902, Theatre Arts Monthlv (September, I93I), p. 737.

The Theatrical Observer. No. 2946. May 26, I83I. The Times (London). I889. The Times (London). 1890. The Times (London). I900.

The Times (London). I90I. The Times (London). I9I3. The Weekly Dispatch (London). May 7, I9I6 . The World (London). I889.

Theses & Dissertations

Bassett, Abraham Joseph. "The Actor-Manager Career of William Charles Macready." Ph.D. dissertation. Ohio State University, 3.962.

Schaffer, Byron Smith. "The Stage Management of Henry Irving in America 1883-1904." Ph.D. dissertation. Ohio State University, I967. 321.

Threlkeld, Budge, "A Study of the Management of Charles Kean at the Princess's Theatre; 1850- 1859, Ph.D. dissertation, Ohio State University, 1955. Voltz, Margo Jean, "Samuel Phelps* Interpretation of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's D r e ^ , M,A, thesis, Ohio State University, I968,

Other Sources

Benson's Promptbook for Julius Caesar, Shakespeare Centre Library, Ohio State University Theatre Collection, No, 957, 1921, P.R. Benson Pile, Shakespeare Centre, Stratford-Upon- Avon, P.R. Benson Pile, Enthoven Collection, Victoria and Albert Museum, London, England, Shakespeare Memorial Theatre Scrapbooks, I886-I9I6 , Shakespeare Centre, Stratford-Upon-Avon,

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