In common with most successful plays it had its tribulations before it faced the footlights. Though possessed of true feeling and inspiration, the author was carried away by his ardour into a neglect of the canons of the stage, writing masses of poetry of inordinate length, which he brought to his friends at the theatre, until at last they began to despair. Many changes had to be made before the poem could be brought into satisfactory shape. Originally, the piece opened with the second act, but the practical Colonel Bateman exclaimed: "Oh, bother politics! Give us some domestic business." This led to the introduction of the tranquil, pastoral scene at Hampton Court. The closing scene, as desired by the author, represented the capture of the King on the field of battle. "Won't do," said the Colonel bluntly; "must wind up with another domestic act." Sorely perplexed by this requirement, which they felt was necessary, both author and actor tried many expedients without success, until one evening the manager suddenly called out, "Look at the last act of 'Black-Eyed Susan!'" And so it came about that the affecting farewell between the doomed Charles and his weeping Queen was due to Douglas Jerrold's time-honoured nautical play. That "Charles I." was an immediate stage success is a matter of ancient history, and in an odd way it had bold advertisement. One of those vehement and amusing discussions which occasionally arise out of a play, and furnish prodigious excitement for the public, was aroused by the conception taken of Cromwell, which was, in truth, opposed to tradition; for the Protector was exhibited as willing to condone the King's offences, and to desert his party, for the considerations of a marriage designed to gratify his own social ambition. This ludicrous view, based on some loose gossip, was, reasonably enough, thought to degrade Cromwell's character, and the point was debated with much fierceness. It was also argued that the dramatist had made Charles not only a hero and a martyr, but also a modern gentleman with superior manners and a melancholy smile. But the public forgave the slanders for the sake of the prettiness and the pathos of the domestic scenes. The play was not only revived in 1879 but in 1883, and again in 1893. In 1901 it exercised all its old charm. The best advice to those who go to see it is not to expect historical accuracy, but, without criticism of the dramatist's portraits of the King and Cromwell, to heartily enjoy a delightful and soul-stirring drama. It is only the other day that Ellen Terry said, "There is nothing more beautifully pathetic in the world than Sir Henry Irving's Charles." And she is right. At the end of this busy season, in the last days of hot July, Ellen Terry, on the occasion of her manager's benefit, played Lady Anne to his Gloucester in the first act of "Richard III.," and then, as we have seen in a former chapter, she started on her provincial tour.