To no class of the community was the honour more acceptable than to his own profession. A meeting of actor-managers and others was held to take some step “in recognition,” it was said, of the distinction. Mr. Bancroft presided, and a provisional committee was formed, consisting of Mr. Toole, Mr. Pinero, Mr. Beerbohm Tree, Sir A. Harris, Mr. Hare, Mr. Wyndham, Mr. G. Alexander, Mr. Terry, Mr. Forbes Robertson, Mr. Terriss, Mr. Howe, Mr. Brough, Mr. G. Conquest, and some others. Mr. Bashford acted as secretary. Another meeting with the same end in view was called of “proprietors, authors, managers.” All this was very gratifying. Not less striking was the feeling with which the news was received abroad, and his _confrères_ of the French comedy—the “House of Molière” as it proudly and so justly boasts itself—lost not a moment in calling a meeting and sending him a formal “act” of congratulation. This important document ran: “Paris, _May 28, 1895_. “DEAR SIR HENRY IRVING, “The committee of the Comédie Française and the _sociétaires_ of the House of Molière desire to send you their cordial congratulations, and to signify the joy they feel at the high distinction of which you have lately been made the recipient. We are all delighted to see a great country pay homage to a great artist, and we applaud with all our hearts the fitting and signal recompense paid to an actor who has done such powerful service and profound honour to our calling and our art. Accept, then, dear Sir Henry Irving, the expression of the deep sympathy as artists and the sincere devotion which we feel towards you.—(Signed) Jules Claretie, administrator-general and president of committee; Mounet Sully, G. Worms, Silvain, Georges Baillet, Coquelin cadet, Proudhon, etc., of the committee; S. Reichemberg, Bartet, B. Baretta Worms, Paul Mounet, Mary Kalb, Blanche Pierson, A. Dudlay, etc., _sociétaires_.” Looking back over this long period of nigh thirty years, we are astonished to find this laborious and conscientious performer never absent from his stage. Night after night, year after year, he is still found at his post, defiant of fatigue or ill-health. Only on one occasion, I think, owing to some affection of his throat, had a substitute to take his place. The pressure and constant struggle of our time, it may be, takes no account of weakness or failure; no one dares relax, and as Mrs. Siddons declared the player’s nerves must be made of cart-ropes, so must he have a constitution of iron or steel.