A new play at the Lyceum is rarely concluded without a speech being insisted upon. Irving himself has favoured this practice, but reluctantly, yielding only to the irresistible pressure of ardent and clamorous admirers. The system now obtains at every theatre where there is an “actor-manager.” But there can be no question but that it is an abuse, and a perilous one. It encourages a familiarity, and often insolence, which shakes authority. The manager, when he makes his speech, seems to invite the galleries down on to his stage, and it is to be noticed that the denizens of these places are growing bolder, and fancy, not unreasonably, that they are entitled to have _their_ speech, as the manager has his.[23] The manager has been always guided by the principle of alternating his greater attempts with others on a more moderate and less pretentious scale. With this view he brought out, on April 17, 1879, the ever-attractive ‘Lady of Lyons’—which would seem naturally suited to him and his companion. He was himself in sympathy with the piece, and prepared it on the most romantic and picturesque lines. It has been usually presented in a stagey, declamatory fashion, as affording opportunity to the two leading performers for exhibiting a robustious or elocutionary passion. It was determined to tone the whole down, as it were, and present it as an interesting love-story, treated with restraint. Nothing could be more pleasing than the series of scenes thus unfolded, set off by the not unpicturesque costumes of the revolutionary era. It is difficult to conceive now of a Pauline otherwise attired. It would seem that a play always presents itself to our manager’s eye as a series of poetical scenes which take shape before him, with all their scenery, dresses, and situations. As he muses over them they fall into their place—the figures move; a happy suitable background suggests itself, with new and striking arrangements; and thus the whole order and tone of the piece furnishes him with inspiration.