His bluff was colossal.  Once when he was a little boy and wanted money, he said to his mother:  “Give me L5 or I’ll jump out of the window.”  And she at once believed he meant it, and cried out:  “Come back, come back! and I’ll give you anything.”

He showed the same sort of “attack” with audiences.  He made them believe in him the moment he stepped on to the stage.

His conversation was extremely entertaining—­and, let me add, ingenuous.  One of his favorite reflections was:  “Tempus fugit!  So make the most of it.  While you’re alive, gather roses; for when you’re dead, you’re dead a d——­d long time.”

He was a perfect rider, and loved to do cowboy “stunts” in Richmond Park while riding to the “Star and Garter.”

When he had presents from the front, which happened every night, he gave them at once to the call-boy or the gas-man.  To the women-folk, especially the plainer ones, he was always delightful.  Never was any man more adored by the theater staff.  And children, my own Edy included, were simply daft about him.  A little American girl, daughter of William Winter, the famous critic, when staying with me in England, announced gravely when we were out driving: 

“I’ve gone a mash on Terriss.”

There was much laughter.  When it had subsided, the child said gravely: 

“Oh, you can laugh, but it’s true.  I wish I was hammered to him!”

Perhaps if he had lived longer, Terriss would have lost his throne.  He died as a beautiful youth, a kind of Adonis, although he was fifty years old when he was stabbed at the stage-door of the Adelphi Theater.

Terriss had a beautiful mouth.  That predisposed me in his favor at once!  I have always been “cracked” on pretty mouths!  I remember that I used to say “Naughty Teddy!” to my own little boy just for the pleasure of seeing him put out his under-lip, when his mouth looked lovely!

At the Court Terriss was still under thirty, but doing the best work of his life.  He never did anything finer than Squire Thornhill, although he was clever as Henry VIII.  His gravity as Flutter in “The Belle’s Stratagem” was very fetching; as Bucklaw in “Ravenswood” he looked magnificent, and, of course, as the sailor hero in Adelphi melodrama he was as good as could be.  But it is as Thornhill that I like best to remember him.  He was precisely the handsome, reckless, unworthy creature that good women are fools enough to love.

In the Court production of “Olivia,” both my children walked on to the stage for the first time.  Teddy had such red cheeks that they made all the rouged cheeks look quite pale!  Little Edy gave me a bunch of real flowers that she had picked in the country the day before.

Young Norman Forbes-Robertson was the Moses of the original cast.  He played the part again at the Lyceum.  How charming he was!  And how very, very young!  He at once gave promise of being a good actor and of having done the right thing in following his brother on to the stage.  At the present day I consider him the only actor on the stage who can play Shakespeare’s fools as they should be played.