In 1878, Henry Irving, the greatest-drawing actor in London, leased the Lyceum Theatre and engaged Ellen as his leading lady. For Ellen, then 31, and Irving, 40, this began an electrifying partnership that lasted more than 20 years. In preparation for her leading role as Ophelia in their first production, Hamlet, Ellen visited local asylums to study inmates’ behaviour. After the first performance, however, she flung herself into the arms of a friend, crying, “I have failed, I have failed!” But, again, the critics thought otherwise, many praising her extravagantly.

Subscribe Today

• Did you enjoy our article?
• Read more in British Heritage magazine
• Subscribe online and save nearly 40%!!!
 

Ellen played almost all Shakespeare’s heroines at the Lyceum and the company frequently toured America. Her natural style of acting and extraordinary rapport with her audience made her one of the world’s most beloved stars. Terry held strongly decided views on the characters she played and expressed these views in her performances. She particularly disliked Desdemona’s weakness and passivity, and believed that Lady Macbeth “is no monster . . . Her strength is all nervous force; her ambition is all for her husband.”

In the autumn of 1900, Ellen bought a beautiful half-timbered, 16th-century farmhouse at Smallhythe in Kent. She had seen it for the first time some years before when driving in a pony trap with Irving around the marshlands between Rye and Tenterden. She fell in love with it at first sight, emphatically stating that this was where she wanted to live and die.

The property, called Smallhythe Place, included two adjacent cottages, one of which Ellen gave to her daughter, Edy, and a large Elizabethan barn. The main house originally served as the port house to the busy local shipyard. But as the sea receded and agriculture took over, the property began to be called “The Farm.” Ellen planned to retire there ‘as a dear old Frump in an arm chair.’

At Smallhythe Ellen could relax, leaving her busy stage life behind, and sit cross-legged on the floor, her white hair pinned up with red combs. She created her own rose garden, played with her son Teddy’s children, and boated on the small inlet.

Ellen continued to act at the Lyceum until it went into liquidation in 1902, due to rising operational expenses and a disastrous fire, which destroyed the theatre’s magnificent sets. Terry later referred to this last decade at the Lyceum as ‘the twilight of the Gods’. Although the early passion of her partnership with Irving had long since waned, his death in 1905 nevertheless devastated her.

Two years later, while acting in Bernard Shaw’s Captain Brassbound’s Conversion, in America, Ellen made another attempt at marriage. Her final husband, James Carew, was an actor in the cast and four years younger than her own son. “I give it two years,” said her daughter Edy acidly. Her son Teddy uncharitably called his mother “unmarriable.” But Ellen continued to exude love and warmth to all those around her, unable to confine her affection to just one person.

Now well into middle age and with parts becoming scarce, Ellen began to give lectures on Shakespeare’s heroines. This series proved to be highly popular, and in 1914 she toured England, Australia, and America. But the passing years took their toll on her sight and memory, and finally, by the early 1920s, her grip on reality began to weaken.

In 1925, Ellen Terry was made a Dame of the British Empire. She received the award in a wheelchair and spent much of the remainder of her life quietly at Smallhythe Place, just as she had wanted. There, on 21st July, 1928, she died.

After Ellen’s death, her daughter Edy dedicated her life to turning her mother’s beloved Smallhythe Place into a museum. Now, open to the public and filled with her mother’s personal and theatrical mementoes, the house resonates with the vitality she exuded during her lifetime.

Her bedroom, filled with family pictures, ornaments, (including her much-loved collection of painted pigs) and her modest dressing table designed by Edward Godwin, remains virtually as she left it. Other rooms emphasize her professional career. The Costume Room showcases some of her costumes, such as the striking red gown she wore as Portia. The Lyceum Room features portraits of Henry Irving, the travelling bed Ellen took with her on tour, and stage accessories such as the tiny satin ballet shoes she wore as a child actress. Ellen treasured the gifts given to her and mementoes of other actors adorn the display cases and walls of the Dining Room. The Terry Room contains more intimate objects, including her theatrical make-up basket, sewing box, and the amber beads she frequently wore.

Help HistoryNet by bookmarking to