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Updated: May 7, 2025
A worse performance than his, carried through with decision and attack, might have succeeded, but Coghlan's Shylock was not even bad. It was nothing. You could hardly hear a word he said. He spoke as though he had a sponge in his mouth, and moved as if paralyzed. The perspiration poured down his face; yet what he was doing no one could guess.
Coghlan's clothes were not more perfect than his manner, but both were a little in advance of the appreciation of Bristol playgoers in the 'sixties. At the Princess's Theater I had gained my experience of long rehearsals. When I arrived in Bristol I was to learn the value of short ones. Mr. Chute took me in hand, and I had to wake up and be alert with brains and body.
Dick asked, after the valiant mariner had gone down. Mrs. Tully nodded. "But keep it up, Dick, you've got one dupe. Elsie Coghlan's mother told me about it in Honolulu last year." Not until eleven minutes had elapsed did the smiling face of Paula break the surface. Simulating exhaustion, she slowly crawled out and sank down panting near her aunt.
O'Shaughnessy, Watts-Dunton, Oscar Wilde, Alfred Gilbert, and, I think Swinburne were there. A poetic and artistic atmosphere pervaded the front of the house as well as the stage itself. I have read in some of the biographies of me that have been published from time to time, that I was chagrined at Coghlan's fiasco because it brought my success as Portia so soon to an end.
This motto, so modest, and not less expressive of his own habitual feelings, was chosen by himself, in preference to one proposed, which was more personally complimentary. Appreciating Mr. Coghlan's services, and delighted with the judgment and gallantry he had displayed, Sir Edward offered to place him on his own quarter-deck.
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