Two rival houses in Coventry at this moment claim to be her birthplace. A greengrocer, at No. 5, Market Street, displays a plate or placard, announcing that she was born in his house: while a haberdasher, at No. 26, over the way, protests that “This house is the original birthplace of Miss Ellen Terry, _and no other_. Observe the name, _Terry House_.” Two other householders make the same claim. But an “old nurse” declares for No. 5. [21] Time moves so quickly on that many will have forgotten that the popular writer Pinero, whose dramatic works are now in such demand, was at this time an obscure, painstaking actor, and one of the first to take service in Irving’s _corps_. By-and-by he brought the manager some slight pieces, such as ‘Daisy’s Escape,’ to serve as _levers de rideau_. These were neatly written and full of spirit. He thus practised his pen, and, as the stage was of large size, had to aim at broad, bold effects, a treatment which has been of material service in his more formal pieces. To his efforts as an actor we can scarcely extend the admiration we have for his writings; and his performance of Sir Peter Teazle at the Haymarket was a strange, wonderful thing. [22] Amiable and forbearing as Irving has always shown himself to his subordinates, he can be resolute in seeing that what he wishes or wants is carried out. Schemes of scenery found available on trial have again and again been condemned because they failed to bring about the effect desired. This, however, is the secret of the unity and homogeneousness of his productions. It is admitted that even in the matter of the elaborate orchestral music, which we might fancy he would leave to the professors, he has much to say and alter. It may strike him as not being suited to the situation. Fresh experiments will have to be made, to be also set aside, to the despair of the composer. Then the _difficile_ manager will be heard to attempt, vocally, some rude outline of what he desires, and this rude suggestion the ready musician will grasp and put into shape, and it will be agreed _nem. con._ that somehow this last attempt suits the situation exactly. This sense of perfect propriety _in omnibus_ is a “note” of our manager’s character. [23] Once, at Edinburgh, during a performance of ‘The Merchant of Venice,’ the students of the University had been very tumultuous, and scarcely a word was heard of the first scenes. Suddenly the drop-scene descended, and the actor appeared. There was silence when, with perfect good-humour and firmness, he said that, owing to some misunderstanding, the first portion of the piece had not been heard by the audience, and that he was now going to recommence the whole from the beginning. And so it was done.