With Gordon Craig we are in a different league. His bold, semi-­abstract theatre designs and his theoretical writings about the theatre made him a European figure, the colleague of such men as Stanislavski and Count Kessler, the celebrated German patron of the arts. Holroyd dutifully tells us about his experiments with moveable screens and all the rest of it, but the focus is mainly on the sublime selfishness of his private life - especially the ease with which he took up with women (most famously, Isadora Duncan) and fathered children. Although Ellen always took pride in him, he couldn't find time to come to London - unlike Eleonora Duse and Enrico Caruso, among others - for the jubilee cele­bra­ting her 50 years on the stage. But then he didn't show up either for the funeral of the small daughter he had had with Isadora Duncan, after she had drowned in an accident.

In the end, gripping though the last chapters are, it is Ellen Terry and Irving who dominate the book. One question remains unanswered: just how good were they as actors? Ellen clearly relied heavily on charm, Irving - who had limitations of taste as well eccentricities - on personal magnetism. But then charm and magnetism are not just optional extras but an essential part of a great actor's equipment. And for the rest, when we get away from the mysteries of the theatre, Holroyd gives us the best, most deeply considered portraits of the famous pair that we have.