one would be inclined to agree, even on this occasion, when every art was exhausted to convey the notion of the turmoil of the elements. The truth is, an audience sitting in the stalls and boxes will never be seduced into accepting the rollings and crashings of cannon-balls aloft, and the flashing of lycopodium, as suggesting the awful warring of the elements. ‘Lear’ was brought forward on Thursday, November 10, 1892, and its presentation was a truly romantic one. The figure had little of the usual repulsive aspects of age—the clumsy white beard, etc.—but was picturesque. The entry into his barbaric court, the strange retainers with their head-dresses of cows’ horns, was striking and original. The whole conception was human. The “curse” was delivered naturally. In presenting, however, the senile ravings of the old monarch, the actor unavoidably assumed an indistinctness of utterance, and many sentences were lost. This imperfection was dwelt on in the criticisms with superfluous iteration, and though the actor speedily amended and became almost emphatically distinct, this notion seemed to have settled in the public mind, with some prejudice to the success of the piece. Though he was thus quick to remedy this blemish, distinctness was secured by deliberation, and at some loss of effect. The actor’s extraordinary exertions—for he was at the same time busy with the preparation of a new piece—exhausted him, and obliged him for some nights to entrust the part to another. But the real obstacle to full success could be found in the general lugubrious tone of the character; the uninterrupted sequence of horrors and distresses led to a feeling of monotony difficult for the actor to vanquish. The public never takes very cordially to pieces in which there is this _sustained misery_, though it can relish the alternations of poignant tragedy attended by quick dramatic changes. Cordelia, though a small part, was made prominent by much touching pathos and grace, and the dying recognition by the old King brought tears to many eyes.[57] An interesting feature in Irving’s career has been his long friendship with Tennyson, poet and dramatist, which lasted for some fifteen or sixteen years. The actor showed his appreciation of the poet’s gifts by the rather hazardous experiment of presenting two of his poetical dramas to the public. We have seen what sumptuous treatment was accorded to ‘The Cup’; and in ‘Queen Mary’ the actor contributed his most powerful dramatic efforts in the realization of the grim Philip.