In 1891, when we revived “Much Ado,” Henry’s Benedick was far more brilliant than it was at first.  In my diary, January 5, 1891, I wrote: 

“Revival of ‘Much Ado about Nothing.’  Went most brilliantly.  Henry has vastly improved upon his old rendering of Benedick.  Acts larger now—­not so ‘finicking.’  His model (of manner) is the Duke of Sutherland.  VERY good.  I did some parts better, I think—­made Beatrice a nobler woman.  Yet I failed to please myself in the Cathedral Scene.”

Two days later.—­“Played the Church Scene all right at last.  More of a blaze.  The little scene in the garden, too, I did better (in the last act).  Beatrice has confessed her love, and is now softer.  Her voice should be beautiful now, breaking out into playful defiance now and again, as of old.  The last scene, too, I made much more merry, happy, soft.”

January 8.—­“I must make Beatrice more flashing at first, and softer afterwards.  This will be an improvement upon my old reading of the part.  She must be always merry and by turns scornful, tormenting, vexed, self-communing, absent, melting, teasing, brilliant, indignant, sad-merry, thoughtful, withering, gentle, humorous, and gay, Gay, Gay!  Protecting (to Hero), motherly, very intellectual—­a gallant creature and complete in mind and feature.”

After a run of two hundred and fifty nights, “Much Ado,” although it was still drawing fine houses, was withdrawn as we were going to America in the autumn (of 1883) and Henry wanted to rehearse the plays that we were to do in the States by reviving them in London at the close of the summer season.  It was during these revivals that I played Janette in “The Lyons Mail”—­not a big part, and not well suited to me, but I played it well enough to support my theory that whatever I have not been, I have been a useful actress.

I always associate “The Lyons Mail” with old Mead, whose performance of the father, Jerome Lesurques, was one of the most impressive things that this fine actor ever did with us. (Before Henry was ever heard of, Mead had played Hamlet at Drury Lane!) Indeed when he “broke up,” Henry put aside “The Lyons Mail” for many years because he dreaded playing Lesurques’ scene with his father without Mead.

In the days just before the break-up, which came about because Mead was old, and—­I hope there is no harm in saying of him what can be said of many men who have done finely in the world—­too fond of “the wine when it is red,” Henry use to suffer great anxiety in the scene, because he never knew what Mead was going to do or say next.  When Jerome Lesurques is forced to suspect his son of crime, he has a line: 

     “Am I mad, or dreaming?  Would I were.”

Mead one night gave a less poetic reading: 

     “Am I mad or drunk?  Would I were!”