[_To face page 272._ ] How vividly I recall that anxious first night of November 10, 1892. First impressions are generally the best, and therefore I do not hesitate to repeat what I wrote in the early hours of the succeeding November 11:-- "In penning these lines it is not so much my intention to enter into critical judgment on our leading actor's rendering of the most noble and exacting of Shakespearean characters, but rather to give my readers some description of one of the most notable 'first nights' of the modern stage. Under the Irving sway all first nights are important, but this one was especially so, for to the present generation of theatre-goers 'King Lear' is, from an acting point of view, practically an unknown play. There can be few amongst us now who can recall Macready's revival of 1838, that of Phelps in 1845, or Charles Kean's elaborate production of 1858--of which it was said that 'he had equalled his Hamlet and Louis the Eleventh.' That is exactly what every one hoped Henry Irving would do. More he could not do. Edwin Booth played Lear for a few nights at the Princess's in 1881--and it has, fitfully, been seen in the provinces, but to all intents and purposes the tragedy has for many years been laid on the shelf. What was Irving going to do with it? That was the question asked by every one in the house last night, and if his performance is to be judged by the tumultuous applause that greeted his first entrance, that followed him throughout the play, and that called and recalled him at the end of each act, he had done well indeed. And what a house it was! My comfortable and easily arrived at seat happened to be in the last row of the stalls, and consequently I overheard the conversation of the front rows of the pit--which has been rightly called the mouth through which the final verdict of the house is given. Here were any number of ladies who, bringing books, refreshments, and camp-stools with them, had patiently waited for five hours in the pit entrance of the theatre during a foggy and comfortless November afternoon in order to obtain good seats, and who spoke not only cheerfully, but even boastfully, of their experiences! Such a tribute to the popularity of the actor is surely noteworthy. It mattered nothing to them that the fog got into the theatre and set them coughing, that their camp-stools were sadly in their way, that the play was a long one, and some of the 'waits' were tedious. Eleven o'clock arrived, and there was still an act to be played, but their allegiance was as unshaken as their applause was undiminished. With such a loyal following as this, Henry Irving has no cause to fear a rival. The upper parts of the house were packed. Every available seat in circles and gallery was occupied, and the private boxes can only be described as 'boiling over.' But the fifteen rows of densely thronged stalls formed the centre of attraction. From the first it was noticeable that the house was almost as much