Looking in this light at Mr. Wills's Olivia, it seems to me a very
exquisite work of art. Indeed, I know no other dramatist who could have
re-told this beautiful English tale with such tenderness and such power,
neither losing the charm of the old story nor forgetting the conditions
of the new form. The sentiment of the poet and the science of the
playwright are exquisitely balanced in it. For though in prose it is a
poem, and while a poem it is also a play.

But fortunate as Mr. Wills has been in the selection of his subject and
in his treatment of it, he is no less fortunate in the actors who
interpret his work. To whatever character Miss Terry plays she brings
the infinite charm of her beauty, and the marvellous grace of her
movements and gestures. It is impossible to escape from the sweet
tyranny of her personality. She dominates her audience by the secret of
Cleopatra. In her Olivia, however, it is not merely her personality that
fascinates us but her power also, her power over pathos, and her command
of situation. The scene in which she bade goodbye to her family was
touching beyond any scene I remember in any modern play, yet no harsh or
violent note was sounded; and when in the succeeding act she struck, in
natural and noble indignation, the libertine who had betrayed her, there
was, I think, no one in the theatre who did not recognise that in Miss
Terry our stage possesses a really great artist, who can thrill an
audience without harrowing it, and by means that seem simple and easy can
produce the finest dramatic effect. Mr. Irving, as Dr. Primrose,
intensified the beautiful and blind idolatry of the old pastor for his
daughter till his own tragedy seems almost greater than hers; the scene
in the third act, where he breaks down in his attempt to reprove the lamb
that has strayed from the fold, was a masterpiece of fine acting; and the
whole performance, while carefully elaborate in detail, was full of
breadth and dignity. I acknowledge that I liked him least at the close