The leading actor was well supported by Miss Isabel Bateman in the character of the Queen, to which she imparted a good deal of pathetic feeling and much grace. For many years she was destined to figure in all the pieces in which he played. This, it need not be said, was of advantage for the development of her powers. Even a mediocre performer cannot withstand the inspiration that comes of such companionship; while constant playing with a really good actor has often made a good actress. But the manager, who had some odd, native notions of his own, as to delicacy and the refinements generally, must have rather inconvenienced or disturbed—to say the least of it—our actor, by giving him as a coadjutor, in the part of Cromwell, an effective low-comedy actor of _genre_, in the person of Mr. George Belmore, who did his work with a conscientious earnestness, but with little colouring or picturesque effect. On a later occasion he supplied another performer who was yet more unsuited—viz., the late Mr. John Clayton—who used to open the night’s proceedings in a light rattling touch-and-go farce, such as ‘A Regular Fix.’ Both these actors, excellent in their line, lacked the weight and dignified associations necessary for the high school of tragedy.[10] One of those vehement and amusing discussions which occasionally arise out of a play, and furnish prodigious excitement for the public, was aroused by the conception taken of Cromwell, which was, in truth, opposed to tradition; for the Protector was exhibited as willing to condone the King’s offences, and to desert his party, for the “consideration” of a marriage between himself and one of the King’s daughters. This ludicrous view, based on some loose gossip, was, reasonably enough, thought to degrade Cromwell’s character, and the point was debated with much fierceness. During the “run” of ‘Charles I.’ the successful dramatist was busy preparing a new poetical piece on the subject of Eugene Aram. It is not generally known that the author himself dramatized his story. This was produced on April 19, 1873, but the tone seemed to be too lugubrious, the actor passing from one mournful soliloquy to another. There was but little action. The ordinary versions are more effective. But the actor himself produced a deep, poetical impression. The manager, now in the height of success, adopted a style of “bold advertisement,” that suggested Elliston’s amusing exaggerations.[11] The piece ran for over one hundred and fifty nights, to May 17, 1873, and during a portion of the time the versatile player would finish the night with ‘Jeremy Diddler.’