"His first effort," says Percy Fitzgerald, "was to gather round him an efficient and attractive company. It became presently known that Ellen Terry was to be his partner and supporter on the stage, and it was instantly, and almost electrically, felt that triumph had been already secured. People could see in advance, in their mind's eye, the gifted pair performing together in a series of romantic plays; they could hear the voices blending, and feel the glow of dramatic enjoyment. This important step was heartily acclaimed. No manager ever started on his course cheered by such tokens of goodwill and encouragement, though much of this was owing to a natural and selfish anticipation of coming enjoyment." To-day we know how that dream of enjoyment has been realised, and how, under the reign of Henry Irving and Ellen Terry at the Lyceum, we have found, in the words of the poet Campbell-- "The spell o'er hearts Which only acting lends, The youngest of the Sister Arts Where all their beauty blends. For ill can Poetry express Full many a tone of thought sublime, And Painting, mute and motionless, Steals but a glance of time. But by the mighty Actor brought Illusion's perfect triumphs come, Verse ceases to be airy thought And Sculpture to be dumb." CHAPTER XII AT THE LYCEUM THEATRE, 1878-1883 Those who are truly interested in the stage must be more or less familiar with a Lyceum first-night under the reign of Henry Irving. He has made the long series of them prominent among the events of the day, and rich and poor alike are eager to be present. We know how the frequenters of the cheaper parts of the house will, in order to obtain good seats, assemble and wait patiently in the Strand from sunrise to sundown; we know how difficult it is to obtain seats at the besieged box-office; we know how from the front row of the pit to the back seats of the gallery the house is densely packed with an audience assembled to hear and see all that is noblest in English dramatic art. It is more than impressive to watch the faces of the patient and expectant pit; and to listen to the sounds in the eager and impulsive gallery; while as to the stalls and boxes, in them you see the cream of those who are distinguished in the paths of art, science, and literature. It is magnificent to be able to command such an audience; on the other hand it must be formidable to face it. It was to such an assemblage as this that Ellen Terry had to make her bow when on the evening of December 30, 1878, she first appeared at the Lyceum, playing Ophelia to the Hamlet of Henry Irving. No doubt it was a trying and anxious moment for her, but the true ring in the long and loud welcome which greeted her on the threshold of the home in which she was destined to do so much noble work must have gone to her heart, and assured her that all would be well.