The Complete Works of Robert Browning: Poems, Plays, Letters & Biographies in One Edition. Robert Browning

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СКАЧАТЬ it: this was on a Thursday; he rehearsed on Friday and Saturday, — the play being acted the same evening, — of the fifth day after the ‘reading’ by MacReady. Macready at once wished to reduce the importance of the ‘play’, — as he styled it in the bills, — tried to leave out so much of the text, that I baffled him by getting it printed in four-and-twenty hours, by Moxon’s assistance. He wanted me to call it ‘The Sister’! — and I have before me, while I write, the stage-acting copy, with two lines of his own insertion to avoid the tragical ending — Tresham was to announce his intention of going into a monastery! all this, to keep up the belief that Macready, and Macready alone, could produce a veritable ‘tragedy’, unproduced before. Not a shilling was spent on scenery or dresses — and a striking scene which had been used for the ‘Patrician’s Daughter’, did duty a second time. If your critic considers this treatment of the play an instance of ‘the failure of powerful and experienced actors’ to ensure its success, — I can only say that my own opinion was shown by at once breaking off a friendship of many years — a friendship which had a right to be plainly and simply told that the play I had contributed as a proof of it, would through a change of circumstances, no longer be to my friend’s advantage, — all I could possibly care for. Only recently, when by the publication of Macready’s journals the extent of his pecuniary embarrassments at that time was made known, could I in a measure understand his motives for such conduct — and less than ever understand why he so strangely disguised and disfigured them. If ‘applause’ means success, the play thus maimed and maltreated was successful enough: it ‘made way’ for Macready’s own Benefit, and the Theatre closed a fortnight after.

      Having kept silence for all these years, in spite of repeated explanations, in the style of your critic’s, that the play ‘failed in spite of the best endeavours’ &c. I hardly wish to revive a very painful matter: on the other hand, — as I have said; my play subsists, and is as open to praise or blame as it was forty-one years ago: is it necessary to search out what somebody or other, — not improbably a jealous adherent of Macready, ‘the only organizer of theatrical victories’, chose to say on the subject? If the characters are ‘abhorrent’ and ‘inscrutable’ — and the language conformable, — they were so when Dickens pronounced upon them, and will be so whenever the critic pleases to reconsider them — which, if he ever has an opportunity of doing, apart from the printed copy, I can assure you is through no motion of mine. This particular experience was sufficient: but the Play is out of my power now; though amateurs and actors may do what they please.

      Of course, this being the true story, I should desire that it were told thus and no otherwise, if it must be told at all: but not as a statement of mine, — the substance of it has been partly stated already by more than one qualified person, and if I have been willing to let the poor matter drop, surely there is no need that it should be gone into now when Macready and his Athenaeum upholder are no longer able to speak for themselves: this is just a word to you, dear Mr. Hill, and may be brought under the notice of your critic if you think proper — but only for the facts — not as a communication for the public.

      Yes, thank you, I am in full health, as you wish — and I wish you and Mrs. Hill, I assure you, all the good appropriate to the season. My sister has completely recovered from her illness, and is grateful for your enquiries.

      With best regards to Mrs. Hill, and an apology for this long letter, which however, — when once induced to write it, — I could not well shorten, — believe me, Yours truly ever Robert Browning.

      I well remember Mr. Browning’s telling me how, when he returned to the green-room, on that critical day, he drove his hat more firmly on to his head, and said to Macready, ‘I beg pardon, sir, but you have given the part to Mr. Phelps, and I am satisfied that he should act it;’ and how Macready, on hearing this, crushed up the MS., and flung it on to the ground. He also admitted that his own manner had been provocative; but he was indignant at what he deemed the unjust treatment which Mr. Phelps had received. The occasion of the next letter speaks for itself.

      December 21, 1884.

      My dear Mr. Hill, — Your goodness must extend to letting me have the last word — one of sincere thanks. You cannot suppose I doubted for a moment of a goodwill which I have had abundant proof of. I only took the occasion your considerate letter gave me, to tell the simple truth which my forty years’ silence is a sign I would only tell on compulsion. I never thought your critic had any less generous motive for alluding to the performance as he did than that which he professes: he doubtless heard the account of the matter which Macready and his intimates gave currency to at the time; and which, being confined for a while to their limited number, I never chose to notice. But of late years I have got to read, — not merely hear, — of the play’s failure ‘which all the efforts of my friend the great actor could not avert;’ and the nonsense of this untruth gets hard to bear. I told you the principal facts in the letter I very hastily wrote: I could, had it been worth while, corroborate them by others in plenty, and refer to the living witnesses — Lady Martin, Mrs. Stirling, and (I believe) Mr. Anderson: it was solely through the admirable loyalty of the two former that … a play … deprived of every advantage, in the way of scenery, dresses, and rehearsing — proved — what Macready himself declared it to be — ’a complete success’. So he sent a servant to tell me, ‘in case there was a call for the author at the end of the act’ — to which I replied that the author had been too sick and sorry at the whole treatment of his play to do any such thing. Such a call there truly was, and Mr. Anderson had to come forward and ‘beg the author to come forward if he were in the house — a circumstance of which he was not aware:’ whereat the author laughed at him from a box just opposite… . I would submit to anybody drawing a conclusion from one or two facts past contradiction, whether that play could have thoroughly failed which was not only not withdrawn at once but acted three nights in the same week, and years afterwards, reproduced at his own theatre, during my absence in Italy, by Mr. Phelps — the person most completely aware of the untoward circumstances which stood originally in the way of success. Why not enquire how it happens that, this second time, there was no doubt of the play’s doing as well as plays ordinarily do? for those were not the days of a ‘run’.

      … . .

      … This ‘last word’ has indeed been an Aristophanic one of fifty syllables: but I have spoken it, relieved myself, and commend all that concerns me to the approved and valued friend of whom I am proud to account myself in corresponding friendship, His truly ever Robert Browning.

      Mr. Browning also alludes to Mr. Phelps’s acting as not only not having been detrimental to the play, but having helped to save it, in the conspiracy of circumstances which seemed to invoke its failure. This was a mistake, since Macready had been anxious to resume the part, and would have saved it, to say the least, more thoroughly. It must, however, be remembered that the irritation which these letters express was due much less to the nature of the facts recorded in them than to the manner in which they had been brought before Mr. Browning’s mind. Writing on the subject to Lady Martin in February 1881, he had spoken very temperately of Macready’s treatment of his play, while deprecating the injustice towards his own friendship which its want of frankness involved: and many years before this, the touch of a common sorrow had caused the old feeling, at least momentarily, to well up again. The two met for the first time after these occurrences when Mr. Browning had returned, a widower, from Italy. Mr. Macready, too, had recently lost his wife; and Mr. Browning could only start forward, grasp the hand of his old friend, and in a voice choked with emotion say, ‘O Macready!’

      Lady Martin has spoken to me of the poet’s attitude on the occasion of this performance as being full of generous sympathy for those who were working with him, as well as of the natural anxiety of a young author for his own success. She also remains convinced that this sympathy led him rather to over-than to underrate the support he received. She wrote concerning it in ‘Blackwood’s Magazine’, March 1881:

      ‘It seems but yesterday that I sat by his [Mr. Elton’s] side in the green-room at the reading СКАЧАТЬ