O F T H E U N I V E R S I T Y O F T E X A S AT A U S T I N

N E W S E R I E S N U M B E R 2 2

Copyright © 1983 by the H um anities Research Center, T he U niversity o f Texas at Austin

Cover illustration: An illum ination (3J4 X 3 U inches) from the H R C copy of Jean Froissart’s "C hronicles,” Book I. H R C Collections.

W ilson B arrett as Othello, ca. 1891. H R C Theatre Arts Collection.Wilson Barrett as Othello, ca. 1891. 11 RC Theatre Arts Collection.

Wilson Barrett s N ew School “Othello”

B y J a m e s T h o m a s

On 22 October 1891, Wilson Barrett’s innovative Othello opened at the Court Theatre in Liverpool, England. Barrett was a popular actor and manager who had achieved his fame chiefly in various forms of literary melodrama, but his Moor was hailed by some reviewers as “the best Othello of our generation.” 1 The production was so successful that it was retained in the actor’s repertory for years afterwards. I t caused contro­versy, but it seldom failed to evoke considerable praise. There is no promptbook extant, bu t its absence need not deter the historian, since a considerable body of other Barrett materials is now housed in the Hoblit- zelle Theatre Arts Collection in the Humanities Research Center. The chronicle of Barrett’s career is laid out plainly here in the copious financial records, manuscripts, letters, photographs, and scenery renderings. These materials make clear the style of Barrett’s work, providing the all- important context within which Barrett’s contributions as a theatre artist become evident. Moreover, there were scores of reviews (many also avail­able in the HRC’s collection) written about Othello in England, the United States, Canada, New Zealand, Australia, and South Africa—every­where Barrett toured—revealing a remarkable continuity of interpretation over the years, especially in key scenes. Most reviews concentrated on Barrett’s unusual interpretation, bu t some also were detailed in their de­scriptions of the text, staging, scenery, and costumes. Notwithstanding the lack of a promptbook, it is therefore possible, by combining HRC’s written and pictorial accounts of Barrett’s career and style with a careful collating of reviews, to form a reasonably complete picture of this production and to come to some understanding of the general principles that governed it.

Othello was only the third Shakespearean role undertaken by Barrett during his mature years as an actor. His untraditional interpretation of a lively Mercutio was well received in a production of Romeo and Juliet with Johnston Forbes-Robertson and Helena Modjeska produced at the Royal Court in 1881. Hamlet, staged in 1884 when he was manager of the

1The L a d y ’s Pictorial, 31 O ctober 1891, HRC T heatre Arts Collection.

Princess’s, was popular with the public bu t was considered too uncon­ventional by influential critics. A recent reexamination of this production, however, indicates that Barrett was more than the star-struck actor- manager of sensational melodramas that some critics at the time took him to be.2 The problem was that Barrett’s attraction to melodrama made him the target for more than his share of critics’ abuse.3 Actually, as Hamlet and the HRC record of his more straightforward melodrama productions clearly reveal, he was a theatrical innovator who brought a high degree of sensitivity and erudition to all his work.

Victorian theatre history has been preoccupied for the most part with re­cording the emergence of social drama and with the acting of Henry Irving, Ellen Terry, and a few other notables. Popular theatre, the lifeblood of the Victorian stage, has often been neglected in favor of this historical pre­disposition, with the result that an irregular picture of the Victorian theatre has emerged which tends to overlook a wealth of artistry. In an important way popular theatre artists, admittedly inferior geniuses, had the liberty to proceed with only mild regard for the predominant artistic tastes of the times. Hence, popular theatre tended to be imaginative and inventive, often with strikingly original results.

HRC records make it clear that Wilson Barrett was not only a leader of popular theatre in England for over thirty years, bu t that aside from Henry Irving he was the best known and most successful actor-manager of the period. After Irving, Barrett was a popular choice for knighthood, and several letters disclose that he was considered by many as the heir to Irving’s throne.4 A balanced conception of the Victorian theatre, therefore, must rank Barrett with Irving in historical importance. Unfortunately, Barrett was like most melodramatic actors in that the primary ingredient of his art—his charismatic stage personality—simply could not sustain interest beyond the end of his career. Such vehicles as The Silver King, The Manxman, and The Sign of the Cross make thin reading today, even though in Barrett’s hands each was a stage triumph. But Shakespeare remains a touchstone by which actors from all ages can be judged. Barrett’s new school Hamlet has proven to be far more important than many Victorian critics could have guessed, and Barrett’s Othello is worthy of equal attention.

Barrett was a practitioner of new school reforms in acting, which in­volved primarily two aspects. First, new school actors began to adapt to

2Iam es Thom as, “W ilson B arre tt’s H am let," Theatre Journal 31 (D ecem b er 1979): 479- 500.

3Philip Amory, “ Mr. and Mrs. lo h n Bull P re tend ,’’ The C om et (M ay 1897): 30-43 .4See especially the letters of H enry A rthur Jones, Bronson H ow ard, H elen Faucit, and

M atthew Arnold, H RC T heatre Arts Collection.

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their Shakespearean roles, along with the accepted stage patterns of courtly manners, the behavioral mannerisms of everyday life. In practice, this turned out to be a lowering of the socioeconomic decorum of the charac­ters. Second, new school speech was quiet speech, a marked contrast to traditional “received” stage speech with its conventionalized pronuncia­tions and rhythms, and its often excessive volume. English critics grudg­ingly made allowances for these practices among foreign actors, such as Charles Fechter and Tommaso Salvini. In 1884, when Wilson Barrett ap­plied new school acting to Hamlet, his style was rejected by many tra ­ditional-minded critics yet was highly successful with the public. Accord­ing to the critics, realistic acting was still not applicable to Shakespeare, who required meter and customary interpretation. For example, Henry Irving’s popular Hamlet, widely accepted by critics, was essentially from the English stage tradition, with the addition of the actor’s behavioral eccentricities. Though Hamlet remained one of Barrett’s most popular plays on tour, London critics disapproved of his new school interpretation, a major reason for his not acting Shakespeare in London during the seven years between 1884 and 1891. W ith Othello, Barrett once again applied new school methods to Shakespeare, bu t this time he wisely chose Liver­pool for the opening of his 1891 production.

Always one of Shakespeare’s most popular plays, Othello enjoyed major revivals in nineteenth-century England, beginning with Edm und Kean’s Romantic interpretation in the 1830s, though not all the productions were successful. William Charles Macready, Barrett’s favorite actor, produced in the 1830s a stately, elaborate rendition in which the visual spectacle represented one of that actor’s proudest accomplishments. In 1858 Charles Kean, another Barrett favorite, starred in a version that was just as sceni- cally impressive. The first new school interpretation of the role was Charles Fechter’s at the Princess’s in 1861, a version which made such an impres­sion that three years later Samuel Phelps’s old school revival failed to make a hit at Drury Lane.5 Tommaso Salvini made his first appearance in London as the Moor at Drury Lane in 1875. Critics disliked his new school inter­pretation, bu t they admired his sure technique. Henry Irving first at­tem pted the role in 1876 under Bateman’s management at the Lyceum, bu t George C. Odell relates that it was a negligible part in Irving’s career. Edwin Booth’s old school rendition at the Princess’s in 1880 also failed, as did the Irving-Booth Lyceum production in 1881, in which the two actors alternated the leading roles. Nor did the American actor John McCul­lough’s old school interpretation, presented at the Lyceum two years after the Irving-Booth production, meet with success. Othello did continue as a

5B arrett’s actress-wife, C aroline H eath , perform ed periodically w ith b o th Samuel Phelps and Charles Fechter.

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popular play, yet, as Salvini noted when he arrived in London, there seemed to be few English actors capable of playing Shakespeare’s heroic drama in the proper new school manner. Wilson Barrett, however, proved to possess the realistic technique and the broad traditional heroism which had been appropriate for Othello ever since Fechter and Salvini had introduced their new school versions.

The passing of English old school stage tradition began seriously with the efforts of Charles Kean at the Princess’s during the 1850s. Kean, how­ever, limited his innovations for the most part to his “gentlemanly melo­dramas.” His Shakespearean productions remained quite firmly rooted in the old patterns. In Sheridan to Robertson, E.B. Watson points out that Charles Kean’s major contribution came in predisposing middle-class audiences to new school methods. Charles Fechter carried on new school reforms with his Hamlet in 1861, and through 1867 with other plays during his tenure at the Lyceum. Fechter’s new school challenge con­sisted of a confident disregard for traditional interpretations of Shakes­pearean roles and a conscious attem pt to include the histrionic effects of melodrama within the Shakespearean repertoire. For example, Fechter introduced vivid facial and bodily adjustments, extensive detailed stage business (tha t is, pantomimic movements within the acting area), and frequent climactic tableaux where previous actors on the English stage had been content largely with statuesque repose and rhetorical intona­tions. Moreover, Fechter’s productions were fully developed “interpre­tations” (albeit occasionally misconceived) that were staged with extra­ordinary attention to the dramatic effect of the whole play. At one and the same time, his new school methods replaced the acting “points” ( cus­tomary climactic moments) and flights of rhetoric that had been the stock-in-trade of a previous generation of English classical actors. During the 1870s, Tommaso Salvini used the new school approach to emphasize to an even greater degree the reforms successfully instituted by Fechter.

Wilson Barrett had begun his lengthy up-and-down career in London working amateur theatricals, and early on he was a fervent admirer of Charles Kean’s Shakespearean revivals at the Princess’s. His first profes­sional engagement occurred in 1864 when he was hired as “juvenile utility” at the Theatre Royal, Halifax. Four years later Barrett married Caroline Heath, an established star who had acted with Kean’s company and who was a favorite of Dion Boucicault, a specialist in the newer forms of domestic melodrama then coming into vogue. Barrett and Miss Heath thereafter toured the provinces and London as a team, and during this time Barrett made his metropolitan debut at the Surrey late in 1868, playing Tom Robinson in Charles Reade’s prison yam, I t’s Never Too Late to Mend. The success of the Barrett and Heath artistic partnership led to the formation of a provincial touring company established in 1870 to sup­

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port Miss Heath under Barrett’s management. This was one of the first successful “combination” companies in England.6

At first it was difficult for the new company, but prosperity was finally achieved at Leeds in 1875. There Barrett staged a production of the melo­drama Jane Shore, newly adapted by the poet and playmaker William Gorman Wills, which developed into a financial goldmine. Barrett’s mana­gerial talents advanced another step when in 1875 he also assumed control of the Leeds Amphitheatre. The twenty-nine-year-old manager showed signs of future accomplishment by challenging the theatrical monopoly held by his close friend, the formidable provincial lessee, John Coleman. Unfortunately, the Amphitheatre burned to the ground later in the year, but the impact of Barrett’s management upon the townsmen soon led to the construction of a new playhouse, built at their request under Barrett’s supervision. The new Grand Theatre (today the northern home of the English National Opera) proved to be such a model of efficiency and splendor for the provinces that it effectively put Coleman out of business. In 1878 Barrett took control of another playhouse, the Theatre Royal in Hull. His management of these provincial playhouses was uniformly ex­cellent. In fact, his annual pantomimes became so popular that special trains were scheduled during the Christmas season to bring playgoers from London.

HRC financial records show that the profits from these leases, and from three subsidiary provincial companies Barrett formed between 1875 and 1878, supplied enough capital for him to finance in 1879 his first London playhouse, the Royal Court Theatre on Sloane Square. This venture did not begin well, however, for Miss Heath was forced to retire from the stage early in the season because of a lingering illness contracted during her years of arduous provincial touring. Bad fortune changed to good when Barrett succeeded in booking in place of Miss Heath the inter­national star Helena Modjeska for a season-long London debut engage­ment that resulted in a great deal of good press, both for her and for the new manager.

More good fortune followed. Modjeska’s popular engagement happened to coincide with Edwin Booth’s series of hapless appearances at the Prin­cess’s under the commercial management of W alter Gooch. Booth’s failure there was the latest in a train of disasters that finally convinced Gooch in 1880 to give up and lease his playhouse to Barrett. This led to a meteoric rise in fame for the new manager, beginning with four triumphantly suc­cessful dramas calculated to introduce London to Barrett’s interesting policy of literary melodrama based upon English themes. His maiden pro­

6Account Books of the W ilson B arrett C om pany, 1871-1904, H RC T h ea tre Arts Collection. See also T he Era (28 August 1886): 11.

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ductions, Lights o’ London and The Romany Rye, were the first of journal­ist George R. Sims’s famous “gospel of rags” melodramas and ran for a sur­prising total of thirteen months. Some critics disliked the graphic depiction of city slum life, but audiences loved it; they especially loved Barrett’s heroic treatment of working-class characters. These plays were followed in November 1882 by Henry Arthur Jones’s first major play, The Silver King, now regarded as a major English literary melodrama. Barrett’s talents ex­ceeded themselves in his next play, Claudian, a “high prose” historical drama by William Gorman Wills which was lavishly designed by the noted antiquarian E.W. Godwin and boasted the most terrifying earthquake scene ever viewed on the English stage.

The high point of Barrett’s management at the Princess’s came in 1884 with his Hamlet. An altogether unusual production, expensively mounted and acted in the new school style, it won a lasting place for Barrett in the hearts of popular audiences despite severe criticism from intellectuals among the press and the acting profession. Barrett’s fortunes following Hamlet, however, were not so bright as would have been expected from the popularity of the production. A disastrous series of plays at the Prin­cess’s, combined with a large stock investment loss and the adverse opinion of influential pro-Irving critics, forced Barrett out of London management in 1887, after which he undertook the life of an itinerant international touring star.

Many among London’s artistic elite looked down their noses at Barrett’s accomplishments; he was, after all, a popular actor who catered to the masses. Nonetheless, the high quality of his work encouraged others to treat him as a serious theatrical force. In fact, the fame of Barrett’s Princess’s plays, together with the continued good fortune of his provincial companies and playhouses and his achievements at the Royal Court, assured for him among the general public the reputation of a first-class actor-manager. His staging talents were compared to those of the renowned Meiningen troupe from Germany, which had recently visited London.7 Moreover, in sharp contrast to the lackluster performances by supporting actors associated with Henry Irving at the Lyceum, Barrett’s plays demonstrated that an English company could act as a theatrical ensemble.8

It was to Barrett’s greater credit that his managerial talents combined with his impressive scenic productions to make him an artistic as well as a theatrical force. He made it a practice throughout his career to avoid cheap staging and to hire the best scene painters available, sparing no ex-

7Philip Beck, “Realism,” The Theatre (S ep tem ber 1883): 127-31.8M atthew Arnold, “At the Play,” Pall M all G azette ( D ecem ber 1884): 4, and George

B ernard Shaw, Dramatic O pinions and Essays, vol. 2 (N e w York: B rentano’s, 1917), p. 281.

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W ilson B arrett as H am let, ca. 1884. H R C Theatre A rts Collection.Wilson Barrett: as Hamlet, ca. 1884. HRC Theatre Am Collection.

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pense in mounting splendid productions. His record of sophisticated scenery and sound staging brought theatre managers from as far away as Germany to see his plays, while influential men such as John Ruskin, Matthew Arnold, and William Gladstone threw their support behind his artistic policies. Ruskin even decreed that his productions were educational examples for the elevation of English taste.9

All the same, Barrett’s fame did not rely exclusively upon his talents as director and producer, for the central interest was always Barrett’s acting. In the first place, Barrett himself presented a better picture on the stage than his chief competitor, Henry Irving, because, unlike Irving, he pos­sessed every physical attribute accounted necessary for an actor. His fig­ure was robust and well-proportioned and, though he was short (and there­fore wore high-heeled boots), his movement was graceful, in classical roles even beautiful. A square, thin-lipped, and determined mouth under a prominent nose gave him a Roman countenance that portrayed in repose a kind of melancholy. Barrett’s romantic image stemmed from his keen, dark-grey eyes and from his full and curly dark-brown hair, which he often wore in a wavy roll over his forehead. His voice presented another advan­tage over Irving; he was a tenor of fine clarity, resonance, and projection— “a silver bell,” according to Clement Scott.10 And Barrett differed from Irving in acting style as well. Irving demonstrated a poetic bu t macabre imagination and specialized in parts such as Richelieu, Mephistopheles, Mathias (in The Bells), and Hamlet—all roles in which his eccentric looks, unusual turn of mind, uncommon voice, and unheroic manner would show to best advantage. Outraged honor was not in his range, and he was a failure at being a stage lover. On the other hand, Barrett was handsome, spirited, and manly. His style was straightforward rather than poetic and lent humanity to classical roles, and dignity to humble ones. He excelled at heroism and was an effective stage lover. Barrett’s physical and artistic assets prompted several observers to hail him as Irving’s equal in talent. Austin Brereton, Irving’s biographer and also a drama critic, claimed, for example, that Barrett was “one of the few really great actors of the century.”11

Barrett was also an exceptional manager and financial wizard. By 1890, there were nearly a dozen companies playing Princess’s dramas through­out Great Britain and the United States, with annual profits amounting to nearly £.20,000.12 Barrett had truly become a theatrical power. Clement

9L etter from John Buskin to W ilson Barrett, 16 February 1884, HR C T heatre Arts Collection.

10The Theatre (Jan u a ry 1884): 47-48 .11Austin Brereton, “W ilson B arrett,” T h e Theatre ( Jan u a ry 1883): 33-41 .12See financial records, 1871-1904, passim , H R C T heatre Arts Collection.

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Scott and other London critics argued that Barrett’s work, and that of his company, demanded the strongest possible attention.

Five years and two United States tours after Barrett left the Princess’s, his Othello began for him an upswing that would eventually lead to his triumphant return to London in 1896 with his spectacular religious melo­drama, The Sign of the Cross, a play he wrote, directed, and starred in. The first indications of a new direction occurred in 1890 when Barrett parted company with Mary Eastlake, his leading lady of ten years. Her position in the company was taken by the American Maud Jeffries, a more talented actress who remained Barrett’s co-star until 1899, after which she became H erbert Beerbohm Tree’s wife and leading lady. Beginning with Caroline Heath, Barrett had been unusually sensitive to his female part­ners; therefore, it was logical that his plans for Othello should have been inspired in part by the talents of Jeffries and by her new school acting style. Moreover, as with Hamlet, Barrett had played the role in the prov­inces when he was young; he wished to attem pt it again now that he was a more mature actor and experienced manager. At any rate, Barrett’s reputa­tion drew many actors and critics to the opening, lending to the Liverpool production the distinctiveness of a London premiere. After all, the popular provincial tragedian Gustavus Vaughan Brooke had acted his famous Othello at the Court in Liverpool, as had the melodramatic favorite, Charles Dillon. Furthermore, it would not have escaped public notice that Henry Irving had appeared in Liverpool at the same theatre the previous week, playing The Merchant of Venice with Ellen Terry.

Unlike most other Shakespeare plays, Othello had not been greatly “im­proved” or “adapted” by actor-managers, though it had undergone severe editing in performance during the nineteenth century.13 Act 4 suffered the worst from editing. Othello’s eavesdropping on Cassio in scene 1 and Desdemona’s preparations for bed in scene 4 were among the most ob­vious omissions. But other cuts were common throughout the play, in­cluding many of Iago’s scenes without Othello, almost all of Ludovico’s, and all of Bianca’s. The fight scene of act 5, scene 1, in which Roderigo is killed, was also considerably reduced. Lacy’s edition of Othello, the basic text used by Phelps, Brooke, the Keans, and Booth, was the common nine­teenth-century acting version. I t contained 2,150 lines, compared with 3,315 in the standard Globe (F irst Folio) edition—a loss of 1,165 lines, or about thirty-five percent of the play. Clearly, by 1880 Othello had been reduced by overzealous actor-managers almost to a one-character play.

In his textual efforts with Hamlet, which were unheard of among actor- managers of the day, Barrett ignored the doctored versions of the play as

13A rthur C olby Sprague, Shakespeare and the Actors (C am bridge , Mass.: H arvard

University Press, 1944), pp . 185 ff.

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acted according to stage tradition and returned instead to the original sources.14 The Globe edition (later revised as the Cambridge edition), edited by W.G. Clark and W.A. Wright, appeared in 1864. F.J. Furnivall published an edition of Shakespeare’s plays in quartos beginning in 1880. Barrett used both of these editions with great success in Hamlet, restoring edited lines of dialogue, restructuring act-scene divisions, and returning characters such as Claudius and Gertrude to something approximating their original status.15

Following a pattern of work he established with Hamlet, Barrett did not use the Lacy text for Othello; rather, he presented his own version using a combination of the First Folio and the quartos. Barrett apparently restored lines to the text that had been omitted for generations, including much of Ludovico’s dialogue and virtually all of Iago’s. Act 1 seems to have been an improvment over Lacy by 135 lines, act 2 by 128, act 3 by 85, act 4 by 273, and act 5 by 93. In all, Barrett’s version probably totaled about 2,864 lines, 714 more than Lacy’s. (See table on page 77.) This was a twenty- one percent improvement, restoring the play to eighty-six percent of its full length. (Bianca’s episodes accounted for most of the remaining omissions.) For the first time in remembered stage history, Othello was seen as the balanced dramatic effort which Shakespeare intended. This kind of modern directorial approach to a classical play was just as un ­usual in 1891 as it had been in 1884 when Barrett applied it to Hamlet.

Barrett had demonstrated surprising stage sense and erudition with Hamlet, not only by restoring lines to the acting version but also by re-

14Thom as, pp . 479-500.15D espite the fact that, unlike H am let, there is no extant prom ptbook fo r Othello,

significant progress tow ard a com plete p icture of B arrett’s text can be achieved by using other, less d irect, means. Specific textual details of the p roduction w ere discussed in several reviews, notably The Theatre, th e Chicago Tribune, the Philadelphia Press, and The Era, am ong others. Furtherm ore , O thello’s act-scene divisions are considered in E d w ard Rose’s essay “T he Division into Acts of H am let,” w hich B arrett used as a m ajor source for his revisions of H am let. (F o r the Rose essay see transactions of the N ew Shakespeare Society [1877-79]: 1 -1 0 .) M oreover, the m odern directorial a ttitu d e , w hich was an im portan t dim ension of all B arrett’s p lays (including, presum ably, O th e llo ), can be recognized in several extensive essays B arrett wrote to accom pany H am let. (F o r B arrett’s essays see the N ew Orleans T im es Picayune [9 M arch 1894]; “H am let,” Lip p in co tt’s 45 [April 1890]: 580-88; “Mr. W ilson B arrett on the C harac ter of H am let,” The Scotsm an [9 D ecem ber 1887]: 5; an d “On H am le t’s Age,” Shake- speariana 3 [ 1886]: 5 8 4 -8 6 .) M y discussion of B arrett’s textual adjustm ents was d e te r ­m ined by an analysis of these essays, of the aforem entioned reviews, and of Rose’s essay, followed b y com parison of these w ith the G lobe edition, the quartos, and L acy’s acting edition. T he results m ake no claim to com plete accuracy. W h at is im portan t is the spirit of B arrett’s work on the text and the b road outlines of his revisions as revealed w ith in the context of the available information.

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T A B L E

Barrett’s Restoration of Lines to Othello

G lobe

A ct Sce ne G lobe L acy B arrett B a r re t t L ocales

i i 184 141 184 a street in Venice

2 99 107" 99 the Sagittary

3 410 310 410 the Senate

lines 693 558 693

2 l 321 193 321

2 12 — — the port of Cyprus

3 394 339 339

lines 727 532 660

3 1 58 — —

2 6 — ---a room in the castle

3 479 394 479

4 201 121 121

lines 744 515 600

4 l 293 76 102

2 252 111 252 a room in the castle

3 106 — Lacy 4 —

lines 651 187 354

5 1 129 62 80 another room in the

2 371 296 477* # the bedchamber

lines 500 358 557

play total 3315 2150 2864

« includes additions by an anonymous authorO 0 includes Globe 4,3

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arranging traditional act and scene divisions to make the story clearer. He made fewer rearrangements with Othello, but where he did rearrange, the results were effective. He transposed the Willow-Song scene from 4,3 to 5,2, using it as an introduction to the climactic murder at the end of the play; and he consolidated the action in acts 2, 3, and 4 to one locale each. Critics were pleased that the sequence of events in Othello was thereby unified and clarified. This new version was so coherent that reporters un­familiar with the original text of Othello mistakenly interpreted Barrett’s many restorations as “small changes in the division of scenes.”16

Appropriately enough, audiences also became more aware of the sup­porting characters in the play, especially Iago and Desdemona, who had heretofore been deemphasized. Three different actors played Iago for Barrett between 1891 and 1901: the first, Henry Cooper-Cliffe of the famous theatrical Cliffe family; the second, the Canadian-born actor Frank­lin McLeay; and the third, Englishman James Carter-Edwards. McLeay was the most effective in the role, though all the actors portrayed similar interpretations and used the same stage business. Surprisingly, Iago was acted young—a jovial and sincere soldier who had a decided predilection for philosophizing. He was not the traditionally obvious villain. For this reason, Iago was not immediately accepted by audiences used to the stan­dard demonic interpretation. One journalist observed that Iago was extraordinarily “different from that to which theatregoers have been ac­customed to,” bu t he added significantly, “the change is a good one” ( Brooklyn Standard Union). As performances progressed, playgoers came to accept this “easy, light, at times even jaunty” approach to the role (The Standard [London]). Most important, Iago, it was said, was once more “raised to his proper level of importance” as the chief antagonist of the play ( Philadelphia Inquirer). Similar comments had been written about Claudius in Barrett’s Hamlet.

Maud Jeffries’s interpretation of Desdemona was another appealing di­mension of the production. Her approach in itself was not a new one, for

' “The Chicago Tribune, 1 May 1894. M any reviews quoted in this article are in the HR C T heatre Arts Collection and are cited hereafter w ithin the text, w ithout dates. In a lphabetical order, they are: T he Australasian, 5 M arch 1898; the Boston D aily Globe, 5 February 1895; the Boston E ven ing Transcript, 5 February 1895; th e Boston Globe, 25 N ovem ber 1893; the Brooklyn Standard Union, 16 N ovem ber 1893; the Buffalo Express, 17 January 1894; the Chicago E ven ing N ew s, 22 February 1894; the C hi­

cago Tim es, 1 M ay 1894; The E cho, 23 O ctober 1891; T h e Era, 24 O ctober 1891; th e Liverpool D aily Post, 31 O ctober 1891; the N ew York C itizen, 12 D ecem ber 1893; the N ottingham Express and Journal, 23 Septem ber 1893; the Philadelphia Inquirer, 15 April 1893; the Philadelphia Press, 15 April 1893; the St. Louis M orning Dispatch, 14 January 1894; the St. Louis Star-Sayings, 14 January 1894; T he Scots Pictorial, 27 D ecem ber 1898; The Stage, 29 O ctober 1891; T h e Standard [L ondon], 29 October 1891; T h e Theatre (D ecem b er 1891): 249-56.

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M aud Jeffries as M ercia in The Sign o f th e Cross, ca. 1896. F rom the souvenir p rogram

of T h e Sign o f the Cross. H R C Theatre A rts Collection.

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Maud Jeffries IS Mercia in T~ SIgn of Ihe erN". ca. l8g6. From che souvenir program of The SIgn of the erO$!, HRC Th(!Qtre Arb Colkction.

Desdemona was traditionally played as delicate and tender ( The Echo). W hat made the role fresh was Jeffries’s unique acting style. She could be girlish, but she could also carry herself with the self-command of a queen, filling the stage with her presence whenever the role dictated ( Liverpool Post). Moreover, her American accent made the interpretation seem “mod­ern,” especially in her scenes with the men ( Liverpool Daily Post), and be­cause of her strong technique she was able to illustrate in the character a variety of moods. In the past the play had begun to falter after 4,2 as audiences despaired of seeing anything new in the character of Desde­mona, but with Barrett’s help Jeffries discovered the significant dramatic action of acts 4 and 5 that allowed her Desdemona to become more im­portant to the story ( Liverpool Daily Post). Her scenes in the later acts were more vital than in previous interpretations, in which Desdemona’s role had been shortened. One of the most prominent examples of this occurred in 4,2, during the speech in which she declares her love despite Othello’s brutality. This moment, said one opening-night critic, was por­trayed with the “gentle simplicity of a broken-hearted lady and not with the customary pomp of a Shakespearean heroine” ( Liverpool Daily Post).

Barrett’s own role was just as freshly conceived as those of his supporting actors. He had never found it difficult to play nobility or soldierly com­mand; therefore, it was not unusual that his Othello came to be recognized early as a “proud soldier . . . steeled by suffering to great self-command” ( The Theatre). On the other hand, Barrett’s majesty was far less promi­nent than it was even in Salvini’s new school concept ( The Echo). Fur­thermore, Barrett’s Moor was not old, as in the traditional interpretations; he was in the prime of middle age. Barrett’s contribution to the new school interpretation of the role derived from his display of an artless nature which counterpointed the straightforward heroism of earlier interpreta­tions and foretold Othello’s downfall at the hands of worldly-wise Iago. Speaking of Barrett’s Othello in The Theatre, Addison Bright called him “an unsuspicious man, prepared to recognize in others candour equal to his own.” In Barrett’s version there was also a strong emphasis on Othello’s Moorishness, especially his superstition. Pictures of Barrett in costume re­veal that he appeared to be more Arab than African, but in terms of his act­ing, playgoers were reminded of a “savage heart” in Othello that was continually hounded by portents of doom. The superstition became pro­nounced in later acts as Barrett gave increasing attention to the importance in the dialogue of subtextual images, illustrating subtly in his acting Othello’s return to his “savage” roots (The Australasian).

Barrett’s interpretation of Othello as heroic, credulous, and superstitious included still another trait, one which reflected upon all the others— Othello’s ardent love for Desdemona. This love for his wife was of a “rare and exalted kind; it [was] worship as well as love” ( The Scots Pictorial).

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Barrett displayed in Othello “an appealing, trustful love for his wife” that shone through him everywhere in the play ( The Theatre). In this respect, Barrett managed to keep Othello sympathetic even when the Moor was accusing Desdemona of infidelity, making him tender at his most unreason­ing moment—the key to Barrett’s scheme for the entire play. His Othello was the story of a man who loved his wife too much, a tragedy of disillu­sionment in which an ideal was destroyed ( The Scots Pictorial). Barrett’s new school interpretation brought to Shakespeare’s play a psychological complexity that had been absent from traditional versions.

As fresh as Barrett’s approach was, his highest achievement lay in a skillful revelation of Othello’s character development, a component of the role which some previous actors had failed to appreciate. In the early scenes, for example, Barrett seemed to possess the “spare, athletic form of a trained soldier” ( The Scots Pictorial). Later in the play, for the important domestic scenes with Desdemona, he transformed himself into an “ardent, occasionally public lover” (The Australasian). In the end, he abandoned his courtly manners and reverted to the “passionate savage.” Barrett made a strong impression in those scenes where Iago’s poison has begun to take effect. He was not quick to suspect; on the contrary, he remained as long as possible the devoted husband, cheerfully confident in the love of his wife, carefully illustrating the gradual working of suspicion and the final abandonment of his nature to Iago’s lies ( Chicago Evening News). Cos­tume played a very important part in this development. In the opening scenes Barrett, long-haired and bearded, wore over his head a vivid red mantle which hung long over lightly colored robes—all elegant and noble. Later he changed to soldierly silver-gilt armor, and still later he wore Moorish clothes whose garish decorations accented, along with a scimitar, his aboriginal heritage. Audiences accustomed to Othello as a play about jealousy from beginning to end were pleased to see the hero’s more grad­ual awakening to “reality,” which was made fully apparent by what Addi­son Bright characterized as “Mr. Barrett’s conception [that] is simplicity itself. One can have no doubt as to his meaning” (T he Theatre).

In Shakespeare and the Actors, Arthur Colby Sprague records that in­creased realistic use of furniture and properties was one of Fechter’s major contributions to theatrical reform. For the first time chairs and tables be­came genuine tools for acting Shakespeare, and not merely stage decora­tions. Barrett capitalized on this technique and used it to call further at­tention to his interpretation of the play. In act 3, for example, he worked at a desk planning new fortifications for the city, a piece of business that proved to be a “happily conceived method of bridging a period of in­action” (Liverpool Daily Post). This business also provided the players with other realistic acting opportunities. During Desdemona’s appeal on behalf of Cassio in 3,3, she knelt at the desk, teasingly took away

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W ilson B arrett as O thello. F rom T he Theatre 18 ( Ju ly -D ecem b er 1 891): 253. H R C Theatre Arts Collection.Wilson Barrett as Othello. From The Theatre 18 (July-December lB9I): 253. flRC Theatre Art, Colltcti(m.

Othello’s papers, and ran out of the room, then quickly returned to put her arms affectionately around his neck ( Liverpool Daily Post). Later Othello used various props on the same desk, marking the plans in counter­point to Iago’s machinations. Act 3, scene 3 deserves further attention for the unusual manner in which Barrett used a painting of Desdemona on an easel opposite the desk. W hen the thought of jealousy was first spoken by Iago (line 165), Barrett crossed to the painting, lost in wonder. On the words “I’ll see before I doubt” (190) he confidently gestured to the paint­ing and went back to work at the desk, unconvinced. Asked a short time afterwards whether he suspected Desdemona (197), Othello replied “Not a jot” (214), bu t this time he moved back to the painting for solace, looking at it steadily. Finally, after the awful “tru th” hit him (434 and ff.), Othello lashed out at the painting with his scimitar and hacked it to pieces. Then, realizing his loss, he fell upon nearby cushions and wept ( The Theatre).

Detailed stage business of the new school variety, which involved subtle pantomimic movement of any sort by the actor, also conveyed in Barrett’s interpretation the “superstitious savage” within Othello. In 1,3 ( the Senate scene), after being warned by Brabantio of Desdemona’s willfulness, Othello raised her from her kneeling position, looked deeply into her eyes, and embraced her coldly and without passion. One reporter said that it was as if “a curse had clouded [Othello’s] bright day” ( The The­atre). Moreover, when Othello met Desdemona at Cyprus he was eager but somehow restrained. The same reporter wrote that in answer to Des­demona’s “If it were now to die / ’Twere to be most happy” Othello’s “Amen to that, sweet powers” (197) was “more like a prayer than a con­clusion.” An example of Barrett’s use of what reporters called “calm and dangerous silences” to emphasize his superstition occurred at the end of 2,3 when he suddenly remembered that on this same spot, within a single night, he had been reunited with his wife but had lost his best friend. W ith a sense of dark irony Barrett looked around sadly, remembered, looked unhappily at Cassio, then “musingly” reentered the castle ( The Theatre).

Besides these quiet and thoughtful touches, more significant evidence of Barrett’s untraditionally realistic stage businesses could be seen in the last scene of the play. It began with Jeffries singing the melancholy Willow Song. After she went to bed, the mood of the scene changed as Othello entered quietly, pulled aside the bed curtains, and desperately covered his wife with kisses. Desdemona awoke and began to plead when she dis­covered Othello’s intentions. Othello seized Desdemona and threw her to the floor; she crawled to him and cried for mercy. At this moment Barrett agonized quietly for a few seconds that kept the audience spellbound, a “terribly realistic moment,” said the reporter for The Stage, in which Bar­rett “touched the grandest strings of emotional acting.” Determined to carry on, Othello next lifted Desdemona and threw her upon the bed—a

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“perilous innovation,” The Echo warned Victorian audiences. After this, Othello drew the bed curtains and performed the murder. His own death occurred moments later when he plunged a short sword deep into his chest, crawled to Desdemona’s side, and died with her hand resting on his shoulder in a gesture of forgiveness. This scene was praised as “daring, powerful, and well-justified,” an acting achievement that “arrested the breaths of the audience—a tour de force” ( Liverpool Daily Post).

The seven years’ interim since Hamlet had done little to change the atti­tudes of many reporters with regard to new school techniques in Shake­speare. They criticized Barrett’s speech for its lack of attention to the verse, saying it was “weak and uninspiring” ( Chicago Evening N ew s), that it was often inaudible, and that it “lacked the appropriate emphasis” ( Chicago Tribune). His readings, said the critic for the Boston Globe, “were not always distinguished by a proper concession to rhythm.” His elocution, observed another Bostonite, “was positive torture to anyone who believes that the form of blank verse is as essential as its meaning, and that both must go together” ( Boston Evening Transcript). George Bernard Shaw, an admirer of Barrett in many other respects, concluded that his voice lacked the proper “orchestration” for the role.17 As for the acting as a whole, the Boston Daily Globe was typical of the antagonistic responses in saying that Barrett’s Moor was no more than “a ranting, raving madman with hardly ever a sane moment.” The Boston Evening Transcript wrote that Barrett was, and always would be, a melodramatic actor: “His methods may be suited to the romantic characters of the semi- melodramatic type, bu t they are as far as possible from the dignity and repose of the heroes of poetic tragedy.” Either through his own melodra­matic technique or, just as likely, through the expectations of certain critics, Barrett’s characteristic acting methods carried over into Othello and inevitably provoked attack. H e had obtained the same results with Hamlet in 1884.

Other playgoers, however, recognized that in place of the traditional rhetorical manner, Barrett was using the new school acting style, with its natural, comparatively quiet, speech. “W ith the donning of Othello’s rich Oriental robes,” wrote Addison Bright, “Mr. Barrett pu t on a natural method and tones to suit” ( The Theatre). Bright contended that Barrett’s Othello was not a piece of elocution but rather “the simple, natural u tter­ance of a soldierly man,” who spoke “quietly, naturally, and with little gesture. . . . No elocutionary effect [was] aimed at.” Natural speech was accompanied by realistic movement and detailed stage business, another reporter noted. Barrett’s “reading [was] a very human one. . . . Daring

1 "George Bernard Shaw, O ur Theatre in the N ineties, vol. 3 (L ondon : Constable,

1932), pp. 147- 51-

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R o y a l L y c eu m T h e a t r eM a n a g i n g D i r e c t o r M r . J. COMYNS CARR

M r. WILSON BARRETT’S SEASON

SHAKESPEARE'S

0 7 HRLIJ)

Cover of the souvenir p rogram for W ilson B arre tt’s O thello a t the Royal L yceum T h ea tre in L ondon, 1899. H R C Theatre A rts Collection.

touches of realism here and there [threw] a flood of light upon Othello’s inner life” ( The Lady’s Pictorial). Moreover, as with Hamlet, Barrett ex­tended this interpretation into the acting of every role. For example, as a character trait, Iago often used furniture in an unconventional manner, just as Fechter had. Jeffries’s Desdemona was “unconventional,” “un­forced,” and “unstrained” ( The Standard). Her stage business portrayed a “delightful simplicity and naivete” ( Liverpool Post). Clearly, Barrett was continuing with Othello his practice of natural acting and staging in Shakespeare, though cosmopolitan theatre in England and America ap­parently remained enraptured with the traditional old school techniques.

Scenically, the production was in accord with the elaborate, expensive, and historically accurate mountings which can be found in the HRC’s renderings of other Barrett productions. Designed and executed by his own staff, the settings were praised unanimously. The style of the scenery was Moorish and highly decorative, and even though this necessitated long changes between acts (the premiere lasted four hours and ten m inutes), most critics did not seem to mind. The play “breathes the spirit of medi­evalism and Romanticism,” said the Boston Globe: “Every scene is a work of art in itself. . . . Not a single detail of the setting, down to those of the most trivial nature, offends the sense of what is artistic or harmonious with the general effect of the whole.” “This Othello,” reported the St. Louis Star-Sayings, “surpasses Salvini in scenic effects, [containing] a wealth of color, a regard for historical detail, and a general desire to favorably im­press that merited the highest praise.” Barrett was never known to cut comers with respect to scenery; his Othello was no exception.

Barrett’s admirers were beginning to fear that the excessive touring he had undertaken since 1887 had begun to dull the power of his acting. As Othello, Barrett dismissed these worries altogether. After the premiere, as news of his popular success spread, he received dozens of congratulatory telegrams from his colleagues throughout Britain. The public loved Bar­rett’s interpretation primarily for its freshness. This Moor, said Addison Bright, “was played certainly as no English-speaking actor of our age has played it.” It “differed from the tradition almost as radically as [Barrett’s] Hamlet” ( The Australasian). The production was “a considerable depar­ture from the accepted Othellos of the past” (N ew York Citizen). The Era believed that the performance was “supremely powerful and intelli­gent.” “Mr. Wilson Barrett is thoroughly possessed with the sentiments of the part,” said Edward Russell in The Dramatic Yearbook: “In all he is most convincing and powerful, carrying the audience thoroughly, rapidly, and excitedly with him.”18 Furthermore, some believed that Barrett’s Othello merited an honored place in the history of the role. “Entirely suc-

, s 77ie Dramatic Yearbook, ed. Charles C heltnam (L o n d o n : T rischner, 1892), p . 45.

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cessful and received with enthusiasm,” wrote another critic: “All that Othello can be . . . Mr. Barrett is. The ferocity of the Moor, combined with his intense agony, is realized from the moment when the poison first works, with a sincerity and absorption which places Mr. Wilson Barrett’s Othello in the first rank” ( Liverpool Daily Post). “There have been many Othel- los,” concluded the critic for The Stage, “but Mr. Barrett’s conception will always rank among the best.”

After the Liverpool premiere, Barrett continued to play Othello on tours, where, according to HRC financial records, it remained popular for many years.19 The production finally reached London in 1897, but by this time Barrett’s fortunes were turning in another direction with The Sign of the Cross, and he withdrew Othello after only a few matinee performances. Besides, highbrow cabals continued to dissuade him from attempting the better classics. Barrett ended his career in 1904, wealthy and still trying to hold on to his position of eminence in English theatre, but in point of fact he never managed to regain the measure of artistic success he had achieved with Hamlet and Othello.

Though marred by his melodramatic tendencies, Wilson Barrett’s pro­duction of Othello had important implications for developments in the Victorian theatre and the history of Shakespearean staging. With his editorial restorations in Othello, Barrett made a quantum leap for the increasingly important practice of returning Shakespeare’s plays on stage to their original textual status. Just as important, Barrett’s new school staging techniques, regularly used in all his productions and amply docu­mented in the HRC collections, further predisposed audiences to theatrical reforms introduced by Charles Kean, Charles Fechter, and Tommaso Sal­vini. Nevertheless, the influence of the negative response to his new school acting was so strong among some critics that his interpretation left no im­mediate artistic legacy. The next important English production of the play occurred in 1902 when Johnston Forbes-Robertson acted Othello at the Lyric. To some degree he exploited the new school staging techniques, but there was nothing in his performance of Barrett’s new school interpretation of the role. It was not until the next theatrical generation that English- speaking actors began regularly to emphasize the dimensions of supersti­tion, deep love, and unheroic fallibility which Fechter, Salvini, and Wilson Barrett recognized and developed so effectively in one of Shakespeare’s finest tragic roles.

19See tour accounts 1891 ff., passim, H R C T heatre Arts Collection.

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