[50] It was interesting to note, at a St. James’s Hall performance, June 25, the pleasant, eager vivacity of the actress, who, familiar as she was with the play, seemed to be repeating with her lips all the portions in which she was not concerned. In the more dramatic portions, it was plain she was eager to be on the scene once more. As she sat she anxiously waited for the orchestra to come in at their proper places, sometimes giving them the signal. This very natural behaviour interested everyone. [51] Another play was written for him on the subject of ‘Mahomet,’ which he was inclined to bring out; but here again authority interposed, and “invited him,” as the French so politely have it, to abandon his purpose. It was at the end of the summer season of 1879 that our manager, after naming these pieces, spoke of others which he had in reserve, either revivals or wholly new ones. It is interesting to think that he had thought of the stormy and pathetic ‘Gamester,’ which has ever an absorbing attraction; ‘The Stranger’ also was spoken of; but their treatment would have offered too many points of similarity to Eugene Aram and other characters of “inspissated gloom.” On this occasion, when speaking of “the romantic and pathetic story” of Emmett, he announced a drama on the subject of Rienzi, which his friend Wills had prepared for him, but which has never yet seen the light. Years have rolled by swiftly since that night, and the author has often been heard to bewail the delays and impediments which hindered the production of what he no doubt considered his finest performance. Another great drama long promised and long due is ‘Coriolanus,’ for which Mr. Alma Tadema has designed scenery. [52] An American lady, a Californian artist, was the first to enter the pit for the opening performance of ‘Henry VIII.’ at the Lyceum. “I and a friend went with our camp-stools and took our places next the door at ten o’clock in the morning. We were provided with a volume of _Harper’s Magazine_, a sketch-book, writing-paper, and a fountain-pen, caricatures of Henry Irving, and much patience. A newspaper spread under the feet and a Japanese muff warmer, with sandwiches and a bottle of wine, kept us comfortable. Two ladies were the next comers, and shortly a crowd began to collect. Real amusing it was, but not very elegant. After about two hours Mr. Bram Stoker came and had a look at us, and cheered our hearts by telling us that tea would be served from the neighbouring saloon (public-house). At last, at seven o’clock, we were rewarded for our patience by getting seats in the front row. The play was superb, and the audience—well, everyone looked as if he had done something.”