Why on earth does Mr. Irving yearn for the companionship of Bishops? Does he want to convert them all to Irvingism, and to come and listen to him discoursing Shakespearean Inspirations in Unknown Tongues? Does he require Church Patronage for the Stage, and his Theatre Stalls filled as those of a Cathedral are with Prebends, Minor Canons and Greater Guns of the Ecclesiastical Establishment? Is it the height of an Actor's ambition to swell the crowd of distinguished Nobodies at the Duchess of Mountrouge's reception, or to appear as a great attraction of Lady Doubtful's Assemblies, and to be able to exhibit cards of fashionable "At Homes" in the mirror which is held up to Nature over his mantelpiece? Elevation of the Stage forsooth! We should have thought that the Stage had elevated Mr. Irving above all such twaddle as this. "Act well your part, there all the honour lies." Be satisfied with this: Live for your Art, not for that limited, narrow, uncharitable, scandalmongering section of the great public which calls itself "Society," and which loves to patronize Art in any form at the least possible cost to itself. Even harsher is the rebuke administered three weeks later to Irving for his self-laudatory speeches, and the unnecessary autobiographical reminiscences in which he contrasted his present with his past earnings, thus creating a false impression of one who was in reality the most generous of men. The petting of actors by society appealed to _Punch_ no more than the invasion of the stage by amateurs; he regarded such favouritism as ministering to their worst infirmity, vanity; and in 1884 he fell foul of Mrs. Kendal's speech at the Social Science Congress on the social position of actors, in which she reprobated self-advertisement (Satan rebuking Sin, according to her critic), but claimed a recognition which _Punch_ denounced as mere snobbishness. Of Ellen Terry, who was associated with Irving at the Lyceum from 1878, _Punch_ remained the affectionate and benevolent admirer, though he admitted that her conception of Lady Macbeth in 1889 raised a good deal of legitimate criticism. The lavish mounting of the Lyceum revivals, I may add, exercised _Punch's_ frugal mind, and reached a climax in the production of _Henry VIII_ in 1892. [Illustration: THE NEW CRAZE Scene--_The Green-Room of the Parthenon, before rehearsal_. HARD-WORKING BARONET: "Here's the Duke, confound him! Only been six months on the stage, and getting twenty guineas a week!" CONSCIENTIOUS VISCOUNT: "Yes, and us only getting six after ten years of it. I hate these beastly Dukes coming and spoiling the profession!" AMBITIOUS EARL: "Ugh! I hate all amateurs, hang 'em, taking the bread out of one's mouth!"] [Sidenote: _Idols of the 'Eighties_]