Holroyd's account of this slow ascent has the requisite heroic feel, and the book is equally good at conveying Irving's essential ruthlessness once he was established as an actor-­manager - a polite ruthlessness, for the most part, although he was not above punching or slapping members of his company when they got things wrong in rehearsal. As for the wider world, he was determined that his profession should achieve the respectability that had up to then been denied it. It seems entirely appropriate that he should have been the first actor to be knighted. And yet amid all his success, he remained curiously detached and lonely. Max Beerbohm called him "the Knight from Nowhere".

A Strange Eventful History is a long book, and one that justifies its length. Packed with arresting detail, it displays the same shrewd judgment and relish for idiosyncrasy that mark Holroyd's other biographies. It also features an exceptional supporting cast. Scores of notable personalities play a part in the story.

Of the second generation of leading characters, Ellen's children - they adopted the surname Craig - make a stronger impression than Irving's. The Irving boys, Harry and Laurence, had a difficult childhood. Brought up by a mother who raged against the husband who had deserted her, they did their best to be loyal to her but couldn't help falling under their father's spell. Both of them became successful but not especially remarkable actors (although Laurence had his explosive side); both of them died in their forties. Edith Craig and Edward Gordon Craig lived much longer - in Gordon's case until 1966. They were also far more colourful.

Edith was a critical, independent-­minded child who grew up to be an actress, a gifted stage costumier, the enterprising director of a fringe theatre company and an ardent suffragette. She was also a lesbian, who teamed up with one of her mother's youthful admirers - Christabel Marshall, who evolved into Christopher St John, but was generally known as Chris. The story of their ménage makes a fascinating study in itself. It is also a warning, like much else in the book, against forming too settled a judgment of human beings. Chris, for example, is touching when she first appears, insufferable when she mounts a campaign against Ellen - who was then 60 - for marrying a man of 30, and a rather endearing if somewhat alarming old trout (James Lees-Milne's phrase for her) in her later years.