at present -- or two years hence perhaps. The `mere amateurs'
are no high game.

Macready received and accepted the play, while he was engaged
at the Haymarket, and retained it for Drury Lane, of which I was ignorant

that he was about to become the manager: he accepted it
`at the instigation' of nobody, -- and Charles Dickens was not in England

when he did so: it was read to him after his return, by Forster --
and the glowing letter which contains his opinion of it,

although directed by him to be shown to myself, was never heard of
nor seen by me till printed in Forster's book some thirty years after.

When the Drury Lane season began, Macready informed me
that he should act the play when he had brought out two others --

`The Patrician's Daughter', and `Plighted Troth': having done so,
he wrote to me that the former had been unsuccessful in money-drawing,

and the latter had `smashed his arrangements altogether': but he would
still produce my play. I had -- in my ignorance of certain symptoms

better understood by Macready's professional acquaintances --
I had no notion that it was a proper thing, in such a case,

to `release him from his promise'; on the contrary, I should have fancied
that such a proposal was offensive. Soon after, Macready begged

that I would call on him: he said the play had been read to the actors
the day before, `and laughed at from beginning to end':

on my speaking my mind about this, he explained that the reading had been done
by the Prompter, a grotesque person with a red nose and wooden leg,

ill at ease in the love scenes, and that he would himself make amends
by reading the play next morning -- which he did, and very adequately --

but apprised me that, in consequence of the state of his mind,
harassed by business and various trouble, the principal character

must be taken by Mr. Phelps; and again I failed to understand, --
what Forster subsequentlyassured me was plain as the sun at noonday, --

that to allow at Macready's Theatre any other than Macready
to play the principal part in a new piece was suicidal, -- and really believed

I was meeting his exigencies by accepting the substitution.
At the rehearsal, Macready announced that Mr. Phelps was ill,

and that he himself would read the part: on the third rehearsal,
Mr. Phelps appeared for the first time, and sat in a chair

while Macready more than read, rehearsed the part. The next morning
Mr. Phelps waylaid me at the stage-door to say, with much emotion,

that it never was intended that HE should be instrumental
in the success of a new tragedy, and that Macready would play Tresham

on the ground that himself, Phelps, was unable to do so.
He added that he could not expect me to waive such an advantage, --

but that, if I were prepared to waive it, `he would take ether,
sit up all night, and have the words in his memory by next day.'

I bade him follow me to the green-room, and hear what I decided upon --
which was that as Macready had given him the part, he should keep 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 jealousadherent 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 re-consider 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 unjusttreatment 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 good-will 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 generousmotive 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