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withdrawn at once but acted three nights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 e
motion say,
`O Macready!'
Lady Martin has
spoken to me of the poet's attitude on the occasion
of this
performance as being full of
generoussympathy 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
sympathyled him rather to over- than to under-rate 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 of Robert Browning's beautiful drama,
`A Blot in the 'Scutcheon'. As a rule Mr. Macready always read the new plays.
But owing, I suppose, to some press of business, the task was entrusted
on this occasion to the head prompter, -- a clever man in his way,
but
wholly unfitted to bring out, or even to understand,
Mr. Browning's meaning. Consequently, the
delicate, subtle lines
were twisted, perverted, and sometimes even made
ridiculous in his hands.
My "cruel father" [Mr. Elton] was a warm
admirer of the poet.
He sat writhing and
indignant, and tried by gentle asides to make me see
the real meaning of the verse. But somehow the
mischief proved irreparable,
for a few of the actors during the
rehearsals chose to continue
to
misunderstand the text, and never took the interest in the play
which they would have done had Mr. Macready read it.'