‘Ravenswood’ was produced on September 20, 1890. While its scenes were being unfolded before us one could not but feel the general weakness of the literary structure, which was unequal to the rich and costly setting; neither did it correspond to the broad and limpid texture of the original story. It was unfortunately cast, as I venture to think. Mackintosh, who performed Caleb, was somewhat artificial; while Ashton père and his lady, rendered by Bishop and Miss Le Thière, could hardly be taken _au sérieux_. Irving infused a deep and gloomy pathos into his part, and Miss Terry was, as ever, interesting, touching, and charming. But the characters, as was the story, were little more than thinly outlined. The scenes, however, unfolded themselves with fine spectacular effect; nothing could be more impressive than the scene of the first act—a mountain gorge where Ravenswood has come for the entombment of his father, and is interrupted by the arrival of his enemy, Ashton. Beside it the Merivale version appeared bald enough. The weird-like last scene, the “Kelpie Sands,” with the cloak lying on the place of disappearance, the retainer gazing in despair, was one of Irving’s finely poetical conceptions, but it was more spectacular than dramatic. The truth is, where there is so fine a theatre, and where all arts are supplied to set off a piece in sumptuous style, these elements require substantial stuff to support them, otherwise the effect becomes trivial in exact proportion to the adornment. Irving has been often challenged for not drawing on the talent of native dramatists, and for not bringing forward “new and original” pieces. The truth is, at this moment we may look round and seek in vain for a writer capable of supplying a piece large and forcible enough in plot and character to suit the Lyceum. We have Pinero and Henry Arthur Jones, but they are writers of comedies and problem-dramas. Wills, in spite of his faults, had genuine faith in the old methods. He was of the school of Westland Marston. In this dearth of talent, it might be well for Irving to give a commission to a French dramatist to work on whatever subject he fancied, and have the piece adapted.