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rr 
 
 
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MEMOIH 
 
 OF THE 
 
 LIFE 
 
 w 
 
 EDMUND KEAN, Esq.^ 
 
 JI?CtUDING TUE ACCOUNT OF Mr. KEAN'S PRJJSENt 
 VISIT TO AMERICA. 
 
 
 CAREFULLY COMPILED. 
 
 ^Mtf AUTHENTIC S0UIICU> AND INTEaPKBSlD WITH ANIOSOTIf. 
 
 - r 
 
 QUEBEC: 
 
 PRINTED AND SOLJ> BY NEILSON & COWAN, 
 
 TMNTIRS AND BOOKSILtERS, NO. 3, MOUNTAIN STRKBT. 
 
 1826. 
 
! 
 
 O 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 — HE visit of this celebrated actor to the Cities of Montreal 
 and Quebec, and the sensation occasioned by this era in the 
 dramatic annals of Canada, has induced the publishers of this 
 brief sketch to submit it to the public, in the hopt that it will 
 not be unacceptable at a period when every circumstance con- 
 nected with the extraordinary individual to whom it relates is 
 a matter of considerable interest. 
 
 4Tn. Sbptbmber, 1826. 
 
MEMOIR OF Mr. KEAN. 
 
 reat 
 the 
 this 
 will 
 Jon- 
 es is 
 
 v^ 
 
 Mr. KEAN was born in Castle-street, Leicester-square^ 
 London, November 'l, 1787. His father, Aaron Kean, was 
 in the humble walks of life ; his mother, who, we understand 
 is still living was a daughter of the celebrated George Saville 
 Carey. His uncle, Moses Kean, was much celebrated for his 
 ventriloquism and imit:.tive talents. 
 
 The subject of our memoir was scarcely able to walk alone, 
 when his parents, whose poverty would not allow of their being 
 burthened with an idle inmate in the family, placed him in 
 Drury-Lane Theatre in the lower department of pantomime, 
 under a celebrated posture-master, under whose tuition his limbs 
 acquired an extraordinary degree of flexibility, and became capa- 
 ble of adapting themselves to the most surprising attitudes and 
 the strangest contortions. These exertions, however, were too 
 great for his strength and health, and his bones became in some 
 degree distorted, affording a singular contrast to his features, 
 which were naturally beautiful, and were rendered more inte- 
 resting by the sickly hue which they thus acquired. There 
 were some among the actor^ whom his early talents had conci- 
 liated, and who, when his parents had begun to look with des- 
 pair on his increasing deformity, generously came forward and 
 procured for him medical advice, and the necessary applications 
 to counteract this dreadful evil. The distorted limbs were fur- 
 nished with irons to direct and support their growth, and as 
 these incumbrances unfitted him for the performance of Cupid 
 \n Cimon, the manager converted him into a Devil in the Christ' 
 mas Pantomime. 
 
 He remained at the Theatre till his fifth year, about which 
 time a curious incident is said to have occurred to him, and 
 which was the cause of his quitting this Temple of Thespis : 
 it is thus detailed by one of his biographers: — In the perfor- 
 mance of Macbeth, at the opening of the new house in March, 
 179t, Mr. John Kemble, who was at that time manager, ima- 
 gined that he could increase the effect of the incantation scene, 
 and theiefore resolved that " the black spirits and while, bUie 
 spirits and jfrey," should be brought before the audi'encfe in 
 propria persona, and a number of children were accordingly ap. 
 jjoiiiled to personate a party of goblins and other fantastical 
 creations, who were to dance in,a circle, while the witchea were 
 moving round a cauldron, winding up the charm that was 
 
 4 
 
 'jmassm^^' 
 
( 4 ) 
 
 afterwards to deceive the usurper of Duncan's throne.-^ 
 Amor.g those selected for this purpose, young Kean of course 
 was employed, as being accustdmed to the stage ; but his ap- 
 pearance on this occasion was as little advantageous to himself 
 as his employer : just at the moment of Macbeth's entrance into 
 the cavern, the boy made an unlucky step, from which, owing 
 to the irons about his limbsj he could not recover • he feu 
 against the child nes^t to him, who rolled lipori his neighbour, 
 who, in turn, jostled upon the next, and the impulse ihiis com- 
 municated, like an electric shock, went round the circle, till 
 the whole party «* toppled down headlong," and was laid pros- 
 trate on the floor. The comedy of this event mingled not very 
 harmoniou9ly with the tragic-sublime of the scene, and the 
 laughter of the audience was, if possible, still less in unison 
 with the feelings of Mr. Kemble, who, however remarkable foi- 
 self-possession, could not fail to be disconcerted by an accident 
 so ludicrous. He was a decided enemy to every thing that in 
 the slightest way infringed upon the decorum of the scene ; of 
 coursej, then, he looked upon this accident as a serious evil, and 
 determined to dismids the goblin troop from Macbeth, observ- 
 ing, « these things niust not be done after these ways, else they 
 would make us mad." The cause of this confusion, however, 
 
 •' smllled in th6 storm. 
 And very philosdphically replied to all reproachesj that « he had 
 never before acted in tragedy," a reply which by no means al- 
 tered the nlanager's resolution : he was dismissed from Macbeth 
 and the Theatre. This anecdote, if true, is certainly most curi- 
 ous. Little could the manager have thought, that the mis- 
 chief-making goblin who had thus spoiled his beautiful inven- 
 tion, would one day become the rival of his Fame I 
 
 His early talents already gave proniiscof his future superiority^ 
 and his mother felt anxious to give him the beneBts of educa- 
 tion. Accordingly, on his quitting the Theatre* she obtained 
 his consent (which it appears was a necessary preliminary, as he 
 already evinced that he possessed a will of his own) to the plan 
 which she had laid down, and he was sent to a school in Orange- 
 court. Soon> however, he became weary of the monotonous 
 recurrence of stated tasks, and determined to go to sea. In 
 vain his mother combated this resolution with all her power ; 
 for when he saw that he could not obtain her consent to his 
 plan, he determined to put it in practice without, and accor- 
 dingly left his home without the ceremony of leave-taking, and 
 entered as cabin boy on board a .edsel bound to Madeira. It 
 roust be tolerably clear that the state of absolute slavery into 
 which he had thus wilfully consigned himself, would by no 
 means agree with hia established habits of independence : it is, 
 therefore, not at all burpriaiug to find him, before the Vessel 
 
( 
 
 5 ) 
 
 -4 
 I 
 
 ^rrWed al its destination, laying a plan for l»is escape from the 
 Vigours of his servitude, which by counterfeiting illness, attended 
 by deafness, he was at length enabled to effect. 
 
 Arrived in London, and restored by the healthful hrcezps of 
 his native land to the free use of his faculties, he found himself 
 destitute both of friends and money. His mother, unfortunately, 
 was gone into the country, and he knew not to whom else to 
 apply ; at length he bethought him of his nurse, and she con- 
 ducted him to the lodgings of his uncle Moses. Here he met 
 Miss Tidswell of Drury-Lane Theatre, a lady who, from this 
 time, treated him with a kindness truly maternal. His uncle 
 encouraged his predilection for the stage, and is said tcf have 
 given him several hints, which he afterwards turned to good 
 account. It was natural, however, that there should exist a 
 shade of difference, in regard to the Drama, between the uncle 
 and nephew : the old man's views were of course turned towards 
 the regular drama, while the imagination of the boy could not 
 fail to be captivated by the pantomimic exhibitions of Bartlio. 
 lomew Fair, and his body having retained all its flexibility, while 
 his bones had recovered their proper direction, the rope dancers 
 and tumblers ok Saunders' Company encouraged him in the 
 practice of the manoeuvres by which they entertained the pub- 
 lic. He has often been caught in the act of running round 
 the room upon his hands with his legs in the air, and of per- 
 forming other tumbling tricks, and could imitate, before he 
 was seven years' old, nightingales, monkies, knife-{jrinders, and 
 other interesting animals, &c. To the lower walks of the pro- 
 fesjion, however, his uncle entertained the most decided objec- 
 tions ; and it is probable that he was indebted to him for 
 speeches from Lear, Richard III., ^c. which he was accus- 
 tomed to recite in the manner of the most popular performers 
 
 of the day. 
 
 Death, however, soon deprived him of his uncle's protection ; 
 and now that he was left at liberty to follow the bent of his 
 incUnation, he united himself to Saunders' Company at Bartho- 
 lomew Fair, at which he made his first appearance in the cha- 
 racter of a monkey, the gambols of which he imitated with pe- 
 culiar cleverness : his dexteri' ;, indeed, in changing his figure 
 was so great, that he has been seen on throwing himself to the 
 ground (like Aaron's rod) to take the form of a serpent. He 
 did not, however, accompauy th^ troop from fair to fair, but 
 remained in London under Miss Tidswell's protection for nearly 
 seven years, during which time the inquiries which he made con- 
 cerning his mother were unavailing. At Icnglh, having heard 
 that his mother was playing at Portsmouth, he rtsiolvcd, in 
 spite of the remonstrance of his protectress, to set out in scaich 
 of hci. He travelled OH foot to Portsmouth, and on hisaiiival 
 
what wa, he to d. / b". ZeZu "'■ '? "■'' '•""S'-'^Y 
 
 room f„r ,he purpose of "„^H """ "'"", '" ^'"'-^' '"'«' » 
 ponses home. " ,„"",:!, el" ^^ oc'cr.w''. t'ct^ H ' V 
 
 ^5;«., by the approbation testified by RoXv of hi, /^^ " 
 tioii of Saturn's j4dAr>.,, tr. n ^ ^ «.oyauy, ot his recita- 
 
 noHce of Dr. Drurv Iho ,„ "'""""'"^ ^'"'^Z^ '<> "Iract the 
 l-i. .o.E.„„ sSSVi; tXrrSeryerlJ Thi' 
 
 w.iLrc ne played //«/«/^/ vvith success, but not with that ^n\A a 
 
 FrZ iV ^^r'^T" '" "'"''••'' '- '-<• beer c„.,„Stf 
 
 I rom Uirmmgham he proceeded to F.dinburKh, whereX m7 
 ■11. pidyca namlet, to crowded houses If*. nnv» ^ j "'^ 
 
 i::ie.:h^rL,t;d^^-'^Tr:,e-'t:e^,:ri^.n'-'r-fr^ 
 
 n..derg„„e the usual vici.situdes of a",rLl W's life ao^.t „",! 
 k.,o„„ th« he wa, .ubjected ,„,„ „,ost d adW V" at^"- 
 Jle played a, Se.eo Oaks, at Swansea, and at Wa crfLrd T^ 
 which latter pace he marnVr! h; • i '^^ '•^'^""'^a, at 
 with it n, i "e married. His union, however, brought 
 
 T r ' "^' '"^'^■^'^'^ "f f"'t""c. and consequently added toThl 
 
 vfrillVr''"'"' he had to contend!^ He'teSdVwo 
 yca,s .« Cheriy'. company, which he Icfl for Weymouth, and 
 
( 7 ) 
 
 Weymouth again for Exeter, where he became a universal favou- 
 rite. A dispute with the manager drove him from these boards, 
 and his next appearance was on the Guernsey stage ; and here 
 we meet with the following curious and authentic document, 
 which deserve? to be recorded as a warning to all ignorant and 
 malicious critics on the one hand, aud to a too credulous public 
 on the other : — 
 
 " Last night a young man, whose name the bills said was Kean, made his 
 first appearance in Havdet, and truly his performance of that character made 
 us wish that we had been indulged with the country system of excluding ii, 
 and playing all the other characters. This person had, we understand, a high 
 character in several parts of England, and his vanity has repeatedly prompted 
 him to endeavour to procure an engagement at one of the theatres in the 
 metropolis ; the difliculties he has met with have, however, proved insur- 
 mountable, and the theatres of Urury-Lane and Covent- Garden have spared 
 thmielves the disgrace to which thev would be subject, by countenancmg such 
 impudence and incompetency. Even his performance of the inferior cha- 
 racters of the drama would be objectionable, if there was nothing to render 
 him ridiculous but one of the vilest figures that has been seen either on or olf 
 the stage ; and if his mind was half so well qualified for the conception of 
 Richard III. which he is shortly to appear in, as his person is suited to the de- 
 formities with which the tyrant is said to have been distinguished from his 
 brothers, his success would be most unequivocal. As to his Hamlet, it was 
 one of the most terrible misrepresentations to which Shakespeare has ever 
 been subjected. Without grace or dignity he comes forward ; he shows an wn- 
 comciousness that any body is before /dm,' and is ojlen so forgetful of the res- 
 pect due to an audience, that he turns his back upon them in some of those 
 scenes where contemplation is to be indulged, as it for the purpose of showing 
 his abstractedness {rom alt ordinary objects !/ f His voice is harsh and mo- 
 notonous, but as it is deep, answers well enough the idea he entertains of 
 impressing terror by a tone which seems to proceed from a charnel-house." 
 
 They who are accustomed to the London newspapers, and 
 know what influence they possess over the pub ic mind, will be 
 well aware that such criticism was enough to ruin the youthful 
 candidate. Those to whom it was addressed were willing to be 
 convinced ; and Kean had too little prudence as well as too 
 much spirit, to bow before the coming tempest : accordingly 
 whenhe there first appeared in iJ;V/jar J, hewasgreeted withlaugh- 
 ler and hisses, evenin the first scene : for some tiine his patience 
 was proof agaiuot the worst efforts of malignityj till at last, irri- 
 tated by continued oppositian, he applied the words of tho 
 scene to his auditors, and boldly addressed the pitj v ih— 
 
 " Unmannered DOQs, stand ye when /command !" 
 The clamour of course increased, and only paused a moment in 
 expectation of an apology. In this, however, they were de- 
 ceived ; so far from attempting to soothe their wounded pride, 
 Kean came forward and told them, " that the only proof of 
 understanding they had ever given, was the proper application 
 of the few words he had just uttered." The manager now 
 thought proper to interfere, and the part of Richard was given 
 to a man oFlj^WS ability, but in higher favour with the brutal 
 audience. 
 
 His merciless enemies, ho\Vever, did not rest satisfied with 
 
( 8 ) 
 
 this ; to have driven him from the stage, and reduced him and 
 }iis family to a state nearly approaching to starvation, was not 
 enough. Ti.ey persisted in their attacks upon him, and com- 
 pelled him at length to quit the town, and take refuge in its 
 outskirts. They believed that their triumph over him \/oula 
 not be complete until they had reduced him to unconditional 
 submission, and this they were determined, if possible, to effect. 
 But they had mistaken the man with whom they had to deal ; 
 and though his distress daily increased, his spirit still rose supe- 
 rior to persecution. At length some strangers on the Island, 
 who had seen and admired him at Weymouth, applied to Go- 
 vernor Doyle on his behalf, and the Goveruor warmly espous- 
 ing his cause, immediataly offered to become responsible for 
 the trifling debts which he had contracted, and which did not 
 exceed twenty pounds. This welcome act of friendship, though 
 it freed him from aU present fear, opened no prospects for the 
 future, and it became a serious question — what was next to be 
 done ? His profession seemed at the moment totally lost to him, 
 and that of ^rms seemed now to offer the fairest chance of suc- 
 cess. Accordingly, he applied to the Qovernor ; informed 
 him of the resolution he had taken, and asked his assistance io 
 the accomplishment of his object, which was readily promised, 
 though at the same time, the Governor fairly pointed out to 
 him the little prospect there was of being able to support a fa- 
 mily on the pay of a subaltern. To this, Kean replied, " that 
 he was aware of the weight of this objection, but his wife had 
 often been obliged to eat of the camelion's dish, and the incon- 
 veniencies likely to occur in the new character could not possibly 
 amount to a total denial of comforts, for what family could 
 starve upon four and nine-pence a-day ? As to his children, 
 one of them was certainly an infant, but the other was two 
 years old, and had already made considerable advances in the 
 business of the stage, and could support his brother till that 
 brother was able to act for himself." On the mention of the 
 extraordinary abilit ies of this child, the Governor expressed a 
 wish to witness them ; and the astonishment which he felt at 
 the child's talents, which could be only attributed to the in- 
 structions of the father, induced him, in the warmth of the 
 moment, to request the latter to recite some favourite scene.-r 
 Kean selected that in which lago speaks of the handkerchief, 
 and the Governor was so delighted with his delineation of the 
 two characters, that he immediately retracted his promise of 
 military patronage, declaring that it would be a crime to with- 
 draw such talent from its proper sphere, and offering him at the 
 same time his assistance in his profession. 
 
 The favour of the (jovernor, though it silenced his enemies, 
 and shielded him in a great measure from their persecutions, 
 
 I 
 
i 
 
 ( » ) 
 
 was not sufficient to render him popular, consequently his benefit 
 did not produce a sufficient sum to discharge his friendly debt, 
 
 1 and pay for the passage of himself and his family to England. 
 
 ' It was just after the acquittal of the Princess of Wales from 
 
 the charges of Lady Douglas, and that event of course 
 formed the principal topic of public conversation. He 
 determined o'y advertising the appearance of his infant son in a 
 new pantomime, and skilfully availing himself of the excite- 
 ment of the public mind, privately circulated a report that 
 
 I Lady Douglas was to be present on the occasion. Tjie scheme 
 
 answered completely ; those whoi.- the greatest ex .'rtiont of 
 genius would have failed to attract, crowded to his theatre, a 
 room in a public-house, in hopeti of gaining a sight of 
 her Ladyship. While all eyes were anxiously employed 
 in watching for her entrance, the seats, which bad been 
 temporaly erected for the occasion, suddenly gave way 
 beneath the pressure, and the audience fell to the ground. No 
 serious accident occurred, and the activity of Kean soon pre- 
 pared another room for the reception of the company. The 
 produce of this benefit was sufficient for his present purpose, 
 and he determined to return to Weymouth. On his departure* 
 General Doyle, who was highly pleased with the talents of the 
 child, generously offered to tak6 its education upon himself ; 
 but to this proposal Kean could not bring himself to consent. 
 On his arrival at Weymouth, an opportunity offered of testify- 
 ing his resentment of the ill treatment which he had received 
 from the manager. He found the company playing to empty 
 benches, and peremptorily refused the solicitations of the ma- 
 nager, who hoped by his means to reinstate himself in the pub- 
 lic favour. Brighter prospects now began to dawn upon him, 
 and he received offers fiom Taunton and Dorchester, at each 
 of which places in succession he accepted an engagement. At 
 the latter place, Kean was performing by turns in every walk 
 of the Drama ; Tragedy, Comedy, Opera, Pantomime, — nothing 
 came amiss to him. Indeed he appears most to have delighted 
 the Natives in the latter ; his harlequin leaps, it is said, being 
 most extraordinary. 
 
 Dr. Drury, who had long marked the aspiring originality of 
 his genius, and the rapid strides with which he was advancing 
 towards perfection, saw him at Exeter in 1813, and was so 
 struck with his performance, that he immediately wrote to Mr. 
 Pascoc Grenfell, one of the managing Committee of Drury- 
 Lane Theatre, recommending that a trial should be granted him 
 there, and observing, that he alone was capable of sustaining the 
 declining fortunes of the theatre. Drury-lane was then on the 
 verge of ruin : there seemed, to be a spell cast over it, under the 
 
 B 
 
( 10 ) 
 
 influence of which nothing could prosper— novelty after novelty 
 had been produced in vain—the tide of public opinion set 
 strongly against the establishment, and all the exertions of the 
 Committee to stem the torrent had proved unavailing -—in a 
 word the house vas literally deserted. It was at this critical 
 moment that Mr. Grenfell received the communication, which 
 he immediately imparted to the other members of the Commit- 
 tee, and they decided upon sending Mr. Arnold, who was then 
 stage-manager at Drury-Lane, to Dorchester, to determine 
 upon the correctness of the imitation. The parts which Kean 
 performed on the nights of Mr. Arnold's visit, were Octavian 
 in The Mountaineers y and Kanko in The Savages, founded on 
 the story of La Perouse. Mr. Arnold immediately resolved to 
 secure his talents for Drury-Lane : he invited him to breakfast 
 with him the next morning ; and so satisfied did he feel that 
 Kean was capable of fulfilling all the expectations of the Com- 
 mittee, that, without waiting for further instructions from them, 
 he immediately entered into an engagement with him for three 
 years, at an encreasing salary of eight guineas a-week for the 
 first year, ten for the second, and twelve for the third. But 
 the pleasant anticipations which this circumstance was calculated 
 to inspire, were damped by the death of his eldest son, which 
 took place on the same day. His engagement at Dorchester 
 still wanted three weeks of its completion : in the mean while 
 the London Papers were busily employed in collecting the 
 floating rumours, and in raising the public expectation ; while, 
 on the other hand, the provincial Editors began to open their 
 eyes to his claims, and to laud him to the skies. As soon as 
 he was at liberty he set out for London, and on his arrival was 
 introduced by Mr. Arnold to the Committee, who wereinduccd, 
 by his personal appearance, to form so humble an estimate of 
 his talents, that they severely lectured Mr. Arnold for his want 
 of taste and discernment in burthening the Theatre with so 
 considerable a salary, to a performer so /////<? likely to retrieve it 
 from its almost hopeless situation. The agreement, however, 
 could not be violated, and his claim upon the treasury was in 
 the first instance admitted ; but before the second week had 
 elapsed, a circumstance occurred which the Committee eagerly 
 seized on, as a basis on which to found a pretence for getting 
 rid of the engagement. Mr. Elliston wrote to the manager, 
 and claimed him as engaged at the Surry Theatre. It seems, 
 that ptevious to Kean's engagement at Drury-Lane, Mr. 
 Elliston had offered him a situation at one of his establishments ; 
 and had even gone so far as to propose the enotmous salary of 
 two pounds a-weck to a man who could do every thing, though 
 at the same time, he would not venture to conclude so weighty 
 an affair without mature deliberation. Accordingly, while he 
 
( 11 ) 
 
 deliberated, Mr. Arnold carried off the prize, and he saved his 
 money. Now, however, that he saw the turn which affairs 
 were likely to take, he determined upon claiming Kean as his 
 own. Kean immediately applied to Dr. Drury on the subject ; 
 and having laid before the Committee his correspondence with 
 Mr. EUiston, which proved that no definitive arrangement had 
 been entered into, was reinstated in his rights, and announced 
 for his first appearance before a London audience on January 
 26, 1814. 
 
 Thus we see the benefit of activa Friendship to bring forward 
 obscure worth, and what powerful aidi a discerning mind may 
 render to those under the shade of difficulty, and the contumely 
 of an ignorant multitude. 
 
 The part which he selected for this occasion was that of Shy- 
 loci, and his success was most decisive. The originality of his 
 style, and the vigour of his genius, drew down the most enthu- 
 siastic applause, which increased with every scene, and at length 
 became absolutely tumultuous. His fame increased with -'h 
 successive repetition of the character, and it was admitted . -at 
 he might safely challenge competition with the most distinguish- 
 ed ornaments of the stage : but it was reserved for his perfor- 
 mance of Richard the Third io place him at once on the highest 
 pinnacle of dramatic gloiy. His first performance of this cha- 
 racter took place on the 12th of February following ; and so 
 complete was his success, that it may fairly be said that he has 
 made this part his own — that he has identified himself with it. 
 The empty benches of Drury wefe now exchanged for rver- 
 flowing houses, and so great was the attraction, that although 
 the house was estimated to contain only 620/., the usual receipts 
 on the nights of his performance amounted to 700/. Sensible 
 of this, the committee honourably canceled the original articles, 
 and renewed the engagement for five years at the rate of 16/. a- 
 week for the first year, 18/. for the second, and 20/. for the 
 remaining three, and made him a present of one hundred guineas. 
 
 On the 13th of March he played Hamlet, on May the 5th 
 Othello, and on May the 7th lago. In the first of these cha- 
 racters the force of his genius broke hrough the disadvantages 
 of his figure, and the brilliant points which illuminated his deli- 
 cnatiou of the character were so numerous, as entirely to cast 
 his defects into the shade. Othello absolutely electrified the 
 audience, and his personification of that arduous character may 
 be justly deemed one of the most powerful displays the Stage 
 can boast of. On the 25lh of May he tookhis first benefit, on 
 which occasion he played Luke \n Ruhes (a tt.utilHtion of Mas- 
 siiigcr's admirable play The CI/// Jlladam), a character exceed- 
 ingly well adapted lor t!i,e display of his peculiar powers, and 
 Ml which he could nut fail to uuiiiiiuiiid iiiiivtirgal a])j)lausc. Thiu 
 
( 12 ) 
 
 benefit was produciivc beyond all example , thr r ■ , 
 ing remitted the usual charge for the pvI ^''^^^'nmiitce ha. 
 many of his admirers havinfp^d 1 iberallv f '"^^^^ ^°"''^' ^^^ 
 «a,d to have produced him Co'nH ''.'"" *'"^«»'' • « '"» 
 
 public favour „.ore deseTve'dJy gU "r'n'.h'^ ""^'- "^' ^^^ 
 ensuing Season he appeared in Afi/,M*r.„ "^^^<=o"«e of the 
 
 benefit,) Z.^„ aud Octavan,aTineiui ?'"^^"' ^^'^ ^'» 
 acquired new claims to public admiraLn^-^ul^""" characters 
 «« height, and which all he eSrof Th'^^^'f^^'-^^^h^d 
 unable to lessen. ' °^ ^^^ "^^l theatre were 
 
 It would be useless to follow h;™ »i, t , 
 racters which he succe^ : y pe?rna?eril'^r'"^'5^ °^^^- 
 stances connected with some ofTji™\u '^"''^ "^^ ^"<^"'n- 
 over in silence. We are indebted t^ hi "^c''^ """°^ ^^ Passed 
 admirable old plays which had o"-h ''''^' ''"'"'^ "^ ""a"/ 
 and their places usurped by the ffn^'T "T^""'^ ^° '^' '^elf, 
 grace the%resent day \^o„IT J^PP''''' "^^ich dis. 
 
 afford must be fresh in^he^eeVelw^^ 1^'^ '^'r 
 
 drama : indeed, such was the efflo? I^*"^. """^ 'over of the 
 Oi».rr.a.A, tha a sub.rript on w- " ^'°?-"''i ''^ '^'^ "^^ ^''^« 
 his brother Actors, aMhrrgJe'irn'f^fyr"^ ?° "^^ 
 purchase of a gold cup, to be presented rn^-" *^"''"y' '°'' '^^ 
 to his excellence in that charL^Ir f/ ° '"'" ^' ^ compliment 
 nected with the Drama ohctedt'bet.r'"' ^'"^^^'"'" -"' 
 nation. On June 25, 18£6 the r„ ^ P'""^" '" ^^^ <J°- 
 Palmer, then father of thTDrurv I .? ?' P'"'""'^'^ ^^ ^r. 
 over the names of the donert, vll"!^'"' ^'^^e. After reading 
 
 Messrs. Pope, OxberJv pfr J' ^"t'''''"' "^^^O"* Esq, 
 
 WvATT, G. Smith ?IlKrMadi?^'''^^^^'""«"^«» 
 LiNGTON, Miss Kelly Mr/ n ^ Stohace, Mrs. Ha- 
 
 Mahov.. Mrs.OKGH„;a^dotherrortheD' ^T""'^ M^ 
 anjounting to upwards of fifty Xl^^f^J;-^^"^ Corp.. 
 follows; — / i^'-isons, mi. ralmer spoke as 
 
 -^^o^hl'^lrl^^^^^^ ^'\^!-^^^ has been una- 
 
 believe this,%„ canno eel mores'?' ^"P"«"°"^ ^ ^^' 
 cup than /have pleasure in pre^c. uinl ' n'°", '" '^^'^•"g *'«« 
 and gentlemen whose na'nesarXr^ V ^u'^?'''^ °^''»^ ^^^ies 
 give you this Cup, vvisC vou h ^."^^L'^^^.' P^^-^it me to 
 life to enjoy it." * ^ ^^^ ''^''^''' happiness, and long 
 
( 13 ) 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 Mr. Kean then relumed his thanks for A) mom done him 
 in the following manner :— 
 
 " Gentlemen j — If I ever lamented the ward of eloquence, I 
 must do so on the present occasion, when I find myself incapa- 
 pable of expressing what 1 feel, or to reply to my friends in the 
 glowing language which they have used. I cannot but lament 
 my deficiency, and trust they will accept the honest dictate of 
 my heart in the declaration, that I consider this as the proudest 
 moment of my existence. In public favour there has been, 
 there will be those that hold a superior rank to myself ; I truly 
 value the public approbation, but the favour T have gained in 
 the opinion and attachment of my professional colleagues is most 
 flattering to the best feelings of my heart, and the recollection 
 of it shall never be effaced from my memory. It has ever been 
 my study to obtain their good opinion, and this token of their 
 regard I proudly conceive to be a testimony of the success of 
 my endeavours. 
 
 ** I sl.all study to be brief, but I must be insensible if I did 
 not truly appreciate the honour conferred upon me in the present 
 tribute, and the past attentions of the father of the stage. A 
 just and commendable prejudice exists in favour of early impres- 
 sions, and a compliment is increased when it comes from a vete- 
 ran, (who remembers and venerates the old school,) by whom 
 the talents of Garrick and Barry are held in reverence, and who 
 trod the stage along with them. The approbation of Mr. Pal- 
 mer therefore comes to me with peculiar gratefulness. 
 
 " Permit me to conclude by saying, that however honourable 
 to my feelings, I should receive this valuable mark of your com- 
 mendation with difidence, did not my heart whisper me that 
 my professional success gratifies me the most by its affording mc 
 the means of serving those who may not be so fortunate as my- 
 self — for I trust that no one, however hostile, can say of me 
 that I am changed by fortune. I offer you individually my 
 sincere thanks, assuring you that it shall always be my study 
 to preserve your good wishes, and that the memory of this 
 hour shall be engraven on my heart to its latest pulsation." 
 
 About this period he thought fit to establish a Club, the os- 
 tensible motives of which were humanity, but the real princi- 
 ples pleasure. — This was called the Wolf Club. A Speech 
 delivered by Kean as Grand Master on the opening of the Ses- 
 sion, sufficiently indicated the prindiples of the Society, yet an 
 erroneous opinion got into circulation that it was the object of 
 the Society to support Kean by crushing his compelitois. In 
 consequence of this ides the Society was dissolved. After this 
 Mr. Keau turned his attention to the study of Muuic, and be- 
 came, in a very short period capable of touching the Piano in 
 a style that would not diuj^rucc u profet>s>ur. 
 
?■« 
 
 I 
 
 ( 11 ) 
 
 In the Summer of 1818, !. made a t.ip to the Continent, 
 lie amvedat Pans on the 'Jd of July, and was almost immcdi- 
 ately visited by the great French tragedian 7Wm« ; who jjave 
 on the loth, a superb dinner to him and a numerous party, 
 which consisted of all the distinguished Artists in every line of 
 the Drama, lad.es as well as gentlemen, at that time in the 
 french capital. The Managers of the T/ieatre Fran^ah, also 
 presented him with a superb snuff-box. Towards the dose of 
 this year, he made his appearance in Brutus, in Howard Payne's 
 tragedy ot that name, and in that character achieved the great- 
 est triumph of his genius ; it was the last step to the pinnacle 
 ot excel ence, and conveyed a most decisive answer to all those 
 who had attempted to depreciate his former efforts. It had 
 been asserted that he possessed but o«. manner of acting, that 
 he was destitute of dignity, tliat he could not support the Ro- 
 man character. But here was a character differing entirely from 
 all vyhich he had ever attempted, free from any of the dark 
 passions , and without any of those points to which he used to 
 give 80 much effect ; its leading feature was dignity, dijrnitv 
 approaching to the sublime, and downright simpTc energy ' 
 In the commencement of 1819, a circumstance occurred 
 which for a short time excited the public mind against him.— 
 Un the production of Miss Jane Porter's tragedy of «« Swil- 
 zer/anJ," m which he had to sustain the principal character, 
 conceiving that it afforded no peculiar opportunities for the dis- 
 play of his talents, it is affirmed that he lua/hJ through his 
 part, and the Tragedy was consequently condemned. At this 
 juncture Mr. Bucke, (who had some time before offered a Tras 
 gedy, entitled " The Italians'' to the Committee, which had 
 been accepted, and who had previously suspected Mr. Kean of 
 some disaffection to his Tragedy,) seized this opportunity of 
 withdrawing his play ; alleging Kean's conduct on this occasion 
 as Ins reason for so doing. He immediately published "27,^ 
 Jta/uirts," with a preface ; which drew from Mr. Kean an an- 
 wcr written under the influence of angry feeling, and such as 
 could not fail to expose him to the la«h of his cooler and more 
 discreet adversary, who was too able a tactitian not to see the 
 advantage which he had gained, and which he pursued in a 
 triumphant reply, which closed the controversy. The public 
 indignation, which was thus excited, was, however of short 
 coiiiinnance : it could not long hold out against such a favou- 
 rite ; so that in a few weeks it had passed away entirely, and 
 the circumstances which gave rise to ii were almost forgotten. 
 
 llie next occurrence worthy of mention, is recorded in the 
 iollowing letter from Sir John Sinclair:— 
 
 " SiK,— Some of yuur frienda in this cicy, (Edinburgh,) 
 became extremely dcsiroua of prcjciuin;; you with a maik of 
 
 ys 
 a 
 
1 
 
 ( l-'i ) 
 
 the high estimation which they entertain for your talents as an 
 actor: more cspcciaily after having witnessed the very superior 
 manner in which you performed the cliaracter of Macleth. — 
 After considering- the subject, it was at last resolved to present 
 you with a Sword of State, to be worn when you appear upon 
 the Stage, in that Tragedy, as the Crowned King of Scotland, 
 I have much pleasure in sending you the Sword, which is pre- 
 pared by some of our ablest artists, for the purpose of being 
 transmitted to you. « // Is of the true Highland maket' and or- 
 namented with some of the most valuable precious stones that 
 Scotland produces. — « Macbeth' is, on the whole, the greatest 
 effort of dramatic genius the world has yet produced ; and no 
 one has hitherto attempted to represent the Scottish Tyrant, 
 who has done, or could possibly do more justice to the charac- 
 ter, than the gentleman to whom I have now the honour of 
 addressing myself. 
 
 « The presentation of this Sword reminds me of two parti- 
 culars : — 1 . The swords in ancient time were large and weighty, 
 and the scabbards broad at the point. Hence, in Shakspeare, 
 Hotspur describes himself (Part I. Henry IF. act i. scene 3,) 
 « Leaning upon his sword,' that is to say, resting upon it in 
 the scabbard. The sword also was not carried in behs attached 
 to the person, (which with a large and heavy sword vvould have 
 been too cumbersome,) but was either held on the right hand, 
 or carried on the left arm, the elbow being bent for the pur- 
 pose. In battle, when the sword was drawn, the scabbard was 
 thrown away, to imply, as the phrase denotes, that the com- 
 bat was to terminate with the death of one of the parties. '2. 
 There is reason to believe that Shakspeare collected materials 
 for the tragedy of « Macbeth,' on the spot where many of the 
 transactions took place. It is recorded in GuTllEniE's « His- 
 tory of Scotland,' that Queen Elizabeth sent some English 
 actors to the Couit of her successor James, which was then 
 held at Perth ; and it is supposed that Shakspeare was one of 
 the number. This idea receives strong confirmation by the fol- 
 lowing striking circumstance : The Castle of Dunsinane is 
 situated about seven or eight miles from Perth. When I exa- 
 mined, some years ago, the temains of that Castl;, and the 
 scenes in its neighbourhood, I found, that the traditions of the 
 country people were identically the same as the story represented 
 in Shakspeare : — iheie was but one exception. The tradition 
 is, that Macbeth endeavoured to escape when he found the Cas- 
 tle no longer tenable. Being pursued by Macduff, he ran up 
 an adjoining hill, but instead of being slain in single combat by 
 Macduff, (which Shakspeare preferred as being a more interest- 
 int>- dramatic incident) the country people said, tliat in despair 
 he'tlucw himself over a preripico, at the bultoiu uf which there 
 
 ' 
 

 ) 
 is 
 
 ( 16 ) 
 
 still remains « n^ Giants Grave\ where it is supposed Macleth 
 was buned When you next visit Scotland, ifwould^^. 
 resting to take an early opportunity of examining these class" 
 
 JL7}'^\^^ ^'"■'J't? '^'^ y°" ""^y J°"g continue an orna- 
 ^mnt, ^'""^ ^^^*^^^' ^ ^^'"^'"' Sir, your obedient 
 
 « John Sinclair." 
 To this epistle, Mr, Kean made the following reply :— 
 '» Sir,— I have the honour to acknowledge the receiot of 
 your letter, announcing the transmission of a valuable Sword 
 which you teach me to receive as a token of the flatterinVesti- 
 mation m which my professional exertions in the NorthTrK . 
 tal are held by yourself, and a portion of that pubiL, to whose 
 fostering indulgence I am already bound in lasting gratTtude! 
 To those unknown Patrons, in whose name you have been 
 phased, m such gratifying terms, to address m^e, I bep IZ 
 
 vished where .t ,3 not duly appreciated and deeply felt. 
 
 rn ^^i.^'^.^P '"• '^"^ ^°"^'c'io"» that I shall only do justice 
 
 NatLTJTh ';^ '" ''?'''¥ ^^^ ^^^••'^ «« «» «"<^e a record of 
 National Liberality, and a pledge of Scottish patronage of the 
 Stage : may I not recognise this as their object, by the sel.c! 
 turn of the distinguished pen which has honoured mVwVh he 
 communication, as well as in the costume of the presenTitself 
 whu:h, youare pleased ro inform me, is strictly natTona I, bo h 
 in Its character and in its ornaments ? Permit me o add S r 
 that my own feelings could feel no higher gratila HL to 
 be instructed in tke hehef, that I have been The fortunate instru- 
 ment of increasing the number of Patrons of our art! the dif- 
 ficulties of wh,ch oiay in some measure be appreciated by the 
 
 J'S 7 1 'f '^''"^ °^ ^""^^« » ^"d '» -hich we but too 
 sensibly feel, how necessary is public pro.ectio,. to encourage 
 and sustain us even in our least chequered and uncoloured career! 
 
 « I have the honour to be, with grateful respect. 
 Your obedient Servant, 
 
 " E. Kean.'> 
 
 The annexed Inscriptions appear on the sword.— 
 
 -On the rront.-7b Edmund Kean, Esq, as a Tribute of 
 
 hurgh. Presented November, 18/6.-On the Reverse. -77,;. 
 Sword ^as presented to Edmund Kean, Esj, avhen he appears 
 " on the Stase as Macbeth, the King of Scotland.'' 
 
 f 
 ■J 
 
? 
 
 
 ( 17 ) 
 
 In the autumn of thU year, Mr, Kean announced hi* inten- 
 tion of visiting America, conceiving himself hberated from hw 
 engagement at Drury-Lane, in consequence of a misunderstan- 
 ding which had taken place between him and Mr. Elhslon, into 
 whose hands that establishment had now fallen. The public 
 voice, however, was loudly expressed in opposition to this de- 
 termination, and he submitted to its demands, and resumed his 
 duties at Drury-Lane during the following season. His m- 
 tention, nevertheless, was only relinquished for a time ; for on 
 the 17th of September, 1820, he took leave of the audience in 
 the following Address :— 
 
 « Ladies and Gentlemen :— The play-bilU haveannounced 
 to you that a considerable period must elapse before I can hope 
 to have the honour of again appearing before you ; and, when 
 I reflect on the uncertainty of human life, a reflection will in- 
 trude itself that this may possibly be my last performance on 
 
 these boards (Here there were loud cries of iVio, no ! we hope 
 
 not, Kean ! and Mr. K. seemed to be deeply affected.)— My 
 feelings ©vcrcome me ; I am unable to proceed.'* 
 
 After a considerable pause, he continued as follows :— • 
 «' I cannot but remember with gratitude, that on this spot I 
 first enjoyed the welcome of public favour j you received me, a 
 wanderer, and unknown ; you gave me a residence and a name ; 
 your support lent me new life ; and it is your favour that 
 freights my venture to that distant shore to which J now pro- 
 ceed : it has been the pride and pleasure of my existence ; and 
 my epitaph shall recwdit when I am no more. 
 
 « Ladies and Gentlemen :— After seven years of anxious en- 
 deavour and struggle to deserve your favour, I have now to bid 
 you farewell. My recollections will be gratifying, for they 
 will remind me of that honourable rank in my profession, to 
 which your kindness elevated me. If at any time I have for- 
 gotten the dignity of that station, it should be imputed to the 
 delirium which your favour inspired ; and it is to you alone that 
 I need apologise. It is you who have sheltered me from the in- 
 numerable attacks of calumny to which I have been exposed. — 
 My feelings are too much excited to suffer me to find words to 
 express them. What always did support, and supports me now, 
 is the conviction that 1 have ever been before an enlightened 
 and generous public. With the utmost respect, regret, and 
 gratitude, I bid you farewell." 
 
 After the conclusion of the performance he gave a Supper 
 to the performers, and immediately set out for Liverpool, where 
 he took leave on the 6th of October, iu Othello. On the 1 1th 
 he embarked for New- York, where he arrived on the 10th of 
 November, and made his ^f3«Mn /?/VAar^ ///. So highly was 
 public curiosity excited, that many people are said to have come 
 
J- ! 
 
 H 
 
 V 
 
 ( 18 1 
 
 from I'hiladelphia, a distance of 90 miles, for the sole purpose 
 of seeing his performance ; and the receipts, which before kir 
 arrival had seldom amounted to 1000 dollars per week, now 
 produced more than that sum nightly. On the 28th of De< 
 cember, some Gentlemen of New- York gave him a publie din- 
 ner at the City Hotel, after which he set out for Philadelphia. 
 From Philadelphia he probeeded to Boston, where the demand 
 for places to witness hit performance was so great that they 
 were stctually disposed of by auction. He returned to New- 
 York in April, played again at Philadelphia in May, and again 
 visited Boston, but not meeting there on this occasion the same 
 warmth of approbation which he obtained on his first visit, he 
 quitted the Theatre in disgust, leaving the manager to appease 
 the audience the best way he could. He arrived at New-York 
 for the third time on the 28th of May, with the intention of 
 continuing his performances there, but finding that a strong pre- 
 judice had been excited against him by his conduct at Boston, 
 and that the Americans were determined to resent it, he resolved 
 to leave America immediately. Accordingly he sailed on the 
 8th of June, and reached Liverpool in the third week of July, 
 after an absence of nine months. During, his stay in America, 
 he erected in the church-yard of St. Paul, at new- York, an 
 elegant monument to the memory of George Frederick Cooke, 
 who is buried there. The monument consists of a simple pedes- 
 tal, surmounted by an Urn, and bears the following inscription : 
 
 " Erected to the Memory of George Frederick Cooke, 
 by Edmund Kean, of the Theatre Royal Drury-Lane, 1821.** 
 
 In the ensiling Season he again resumed his duties at Drury- 
 Lane, where he was received with that renewed cordiality which 
 the return of an old favourite is sure to awaken. 
 
 The first act of Kean deserving of notice after his return 
 from America, was the appropriating the proceeds of his an- 
 nual Benefit at Drury Lane, in aid of the Funds for the relief 
 of the distressed Irish ; this forms one, amongst numerous, in- 
 stances of the generosity of his disposition and may serve to 
 palliate in some degree the failings which are unhappily attach- 
 ed to his character. 
 
 It is now our painful duty briefly to notice the unpleasant 
 cause which has so materially affected the private character of 
 thisextraordinary individual, the effects of which have appa- 
 rently expatriated him, in the very Zenith of his fame and con- 
 strained him to solicit in a foreign * land *' a shelter in which 
 he may close his professional and mortal career." 
 
 On Monday, Januat-y 17th, 1825, we find Mr. Kean de- 
 fendant in an action brought by Albion Cox, Esqr. Alderman 
 of the City of London, for criminal conversation with his (the 
 
 * Vide his Leltet addressed to the Cituen« of New York. 
 
( 1» 
 
 i 
 
 t 
 
 o. • .■lf.\ Wift • the fact. w«f .uKciently ffiti, and *800 
 PUwIilPO W '<' • •"' " ™. evidence on the part of the pro- 
 damage, were awardeJ The '«,den l-^^^l ^^^ ^^ 
 
 Kcutiot. went to prove a b'eacl, not o y 
 
 ,he tie. of intimate '""f "?' *'t!7" ,o ,he pe""-! »' ••« 
 of the earlier patron, of Kean, and, up to t p 
 
 di«o,ery of «'•= PJX'iSaninr^.remelTu.geni- 
 Scarlett on the part of •"' "'«"*■"' impropriety on the part 
 o«. Speech proved «'"^' "'"f A'°"o, «tabli.h the fact of 
 
 *''„*^'''reiw«n *e PlS ndt. Wife, .ati.f.ctoril, 
 c„ll„.«,n betw«n *e r^ „„,hecked, yet perfectly 
 
 ll^Uh'fh^^cogSce of the Hu.b.nd, to be the wU-ng parfc 
 
 ^•?',:'ir^^rg^r"S'«curby th. «.«u 
 
 ^ThU T^S :»a in thf ve.y f^or of ^u.h e„.e..n^K«^^^ 
 ""wdedTelee" T.^' eS«''of KeTn; Ippe^red deter- 
 
 -?-5!no^rwr;«^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 ?;',.^na\u„;7 wearied Lh. he »ncea.i^^^ 
 „f oot on hi. a.ual year', provmcal toor. »» "^J ^f . ^ 
 
 k„t,:.ow dr w.um«U"ous and enraged Spectator. «. .n.ut 
 
 ^^ Item's*- «"— :^" ^^ 
 
 °\thU«rmU;;r:rc-a. appeared the only A.ylam left 
 for Jhe Scalded fJvVuc, yet there a weighty and long a«oun 
 
 ^btife^ie^rir^'cot^e^teTcltar't^c^:^ 
 by he an?oo„«me»t o! hi, re-appearance , 'l-^ New.papr. 
 I \.AaA \n Pverv SDCCies of perspnal attack upon his charac- 
 t^^calcul ed17e^^^^ public feeling against him ; wh.le 
 
 on the com ary. his numerous friends exerted every engn.e of 
 ?hdr influen J to produce for him a favourabk reception. 
 On Monday the 4th November', 1825, he made hjs appearance 
 tt the Park Theatre, in his favorite character of Richard. At 
 an e^lv hour every part of the house was filled, but no Jad.e. 
 bono d him vith\heir presence) the most tumultuous ao- 
 ^W followed the rise of the Curtain, and when Kean made 
 
( 20 ) 
 
 his appfarance, the Pit rose in one mass and gave him six 
 cheers, which were participated in by every part of the House. 
 Kean came forward smiUng, folded his arms and calmly await- 
 ed the termination of the applause to address the Audience, 
 and it was presumed, with the intention of offering some Apo- 
 logy for his conduct, but the incessant cheering and vocifera- 
 tion prevented his intention : having made several attempts to 
 speak, he went to the side-scene and called Mr. Simpson the 
 Manager who came forward and prayed that Mr. Kean might 
 be beard, as the New /ork Audience was not in the habit of 
 condemning an Actor without a hearing : to all which a ready 
 assent was yielded but the continued vociferation gave a prac- 
 tical denial to the s&me ! The Play then proceeded, but amid 
 such shouts t groans and applause^ that not one syllable of the 
 performance could be heard — cries of " Boston I send htm to 
 Boston !** were uppermost in the mingled sounds, missiles were 
 h'lrled on the Stage, and an orange struck Mr. Kean on the 
 breast, — the tumult continued until the end of the Play, and 
 the Curtain fell amid the most deafening and uproarious scene 
 of confusion that ever disgraced a Theatre. The events of 
 the Night induced Mr. Kean to write the following Letter, 
 which appeared in all the Papers on the Wednesday following, 
 the night on which he was announced for Othello :— 
 
 " Messrs. JJdt/or*.— Sirs,— With oppressed feelings, heart-rending to my 
 friends, and triumphant to my enemies, I make an appeal to that country 
 famed for hospitality to the stranger, and mercy to the conquered. Allow 
 me to say. Sirs, whaterer are my ofTences, I disclaim all intention of offer- 
 ing anything in the shape of disrespect towards the inhabitants of Mew 
 York — they received me from the first with an enthusiasm, grateful in those 
 hours to my pride, in the present to my memory. I cannot recal to my 
 mind any act or thought that did not prompt me to an unfeigned acknow- 
 ledgment of their favors as a public, and profound admiration of the private 
 worth of those circles, in which I had the honour to move. 
 «« That 1 have committed an error, appears too evident from the all-decisive 
 voice of the public ; but, surely, it is but justice (o the delinquent (whatever 
 may be his enormities,) to be allowed to make reparation where the ofTonces 
 were committed. My misunderstandings took place in Boston. To Bos- 
 ton I shall assuredly go, to apologise for my indiscretions. 
 
 " 1 visit this country now, under different feelings and auspices than on a 
 former occasion. Then I was an ambitious man, and the proud represent- 
 ative of Shakspeare's heroes. The spark of ambition is extinct ; and I 
 merely ask a shelter in which to close my professional and mortal career. 
 I give the weapon into the hands of my enemies ; if they are brave they 
 will not turn it against the defenceless. EDMUND KEAN. 
 
 fTaj/rt'ngton Hall, November 15lh, 1825." 
 
 The most intense anxiety, was manifested as to the result of 
 the second night's performance» the somewhat humiliating ap- 
 peal had removed the scruples of the moderate party and con- 
 firmed the Friendship of his Friends ; others however consi- 
 dered it as no Apology, and a great portion of this party oc- 
 cupied the Theatre on the Wediicsday Evening, The appear- 
 
I 
 
 I «1 ) 
 
 , ,^, ,. SoUe Moo." «» \'''JSdlraS„tTonfi:: 
 ance ot the n • (.ommeoced, mingiea i xoedcnt 
 
 ,ioo. until the r" ^jaiion, wb:h by ^T/;. . became 
 
 of »uppre«9ing tbe r a^' ^^ ^"^f '^^V-T Ic >Jlien the 
 
 ''*^7Xooo.Uion having ce»Kd.»l«/'™„,, ,„;„„ ^p. 
 ^n'^Bati «« p..f«.ly '»»r;tok materially > V.. fa- 
 
 ,h. Public "V "o.. tt>ri'«''"»''^y- t .h. New Yo't Audi- 
 'Xing ""'"^Sd .he prejudu:" "J J^'^^^ ^ „„*d 
 
 tion of tue «"" j^ ^„a not cotiKi ^ , ), ,i,c 
 
 , ,he clo»c °[^^=^ ;,e,,„re they ?'"^^Zo'l '"d "«- 
 fcstauon f '''=;i,,^ Je. destroying 'J= ."""in,^ ^,o,v<l ou.- 
 ""rr/verv oTher .pecie..of depredatron- I h^^^^^^^ 
 
 "t'biareqnally alarming, and .t «. .^ _^^^,^ ^^ ^ 
 notexpecinioielhanuiw. 
 
 \y 
 
( 22 ) 
 
 Afrer going through his fivoi e a ^'r^Mctert at New York 
 Mr. Kean was inducr I to accep- . .gigement a Philadel- 
 phia. Ihe high tone of mm\\M ,ot. ,ed by this lit,, war- 
 ranted a just fear that hu ,,,K;eption m.g,. not be the most fa- 
 vorable. Contrary howcT^r to general expectation, his recep- 
 tion was maiked w.th itt small a portion of displeasure that it 
 might be termed a triumph, .. hich was gratefully acknow- 
 ledged by Kean in the fultuvring address published the next day : 
 
 7V» the Citizens of PhUadelpk^. I it ««n4«d e.i address you lastevanin* 
 but was prcra.led on to proceed w.ih my p«.v rather than J^ve uSrancJ to 
 Iho feelings of gratitude which you then ere .ted in my boSm. 
 
 triends who take an interest in my welfare, assure me that the nost un 
 founded stories have been circulated, with a view to prejuaiceyou aMStme' 
 
 ill tn ,11*"'^ '"'^"*'* '"^''"'" punishment. The Inhabitants of ihi, c t 
 } am totally unconscious of ever having offended. But if I have uncon 
 
 X^'!^»*t"V°i'"r'.'''""''"'y'«8'" ■'• I '«'»« always borne tow^rS; 
 this city the kindest feelings, and the events of last night, will impresTstill 
 
 aii(J prdeof my life to manifest. EnMuvn K-.i* 
 
 Philadelphia, Thursday morning. ^ohvsd K«an. 
 
 After the close of a very successful and profitable engage- 
 ment he again returned to New York, appeared in several new 
 Characters, and then proceeded to Charleston where his recep- 
 tion was in the highest degree flattering. 
 
 At the request of several Gentlemen of Montreal, Mr. 
 Kean clc I an ^^aagement with Mr. F. Brown, the present 
 l-f-isee oi (he % .ureal Theatre, and made hi? first appear- 
 ancen H'chard, on Monday, the 31st ultimo. The quusual 
 circumstance of j,e first Tragic Actor of the day, appeariiiP- 
 in these Provinces, the high reoutation of that Actor, and 
 the popularity his fame and his adventures had excited, all con- 
 spired to render his appearance in Montreal one of deep inte- 
 rest. The House was crowded to excess, and the effect pro- 
 duced by his superior performance of the « crook'd back'd 
 tyrant" was powerfully impressive. He has since played his 
 usual round of Characters, with approbation ; a Public Din- 
 ner, has been given to him, and the most flattering personal ci. 
 vihtieshave welcomed him anr ngst his Countrymen and fellow 
 subjects. He has accepted a». engagement to perform a few 
 Nights at our Theatre, and will attord the Quebec Public the 
 means of satisfying a laudable curiosity to witness the per- 
 formance of this extraordinary and highly talented Actor. 
 
 In conclusion we may be allowed to say, that Mr. Kean is 
 undoubtedly the greatest Actor of the age His private de- 
 tects, his eccentricities and his weaknesses may deteriorate from 
 his private character but cannot i- cfere with his public and 
 professional one ; in that light he -r-es amongst us, and we 
 trust his reception may justify tht e ;, .u..nt. Wc might cite 
 
 mar 
 
 poll 
 
 feci 
 tioi 
 
 P 
 c 
 
 I 
 
 { 
 
( ^3 ) 
 
 \x Kean hai redeeming 
 
 ^ FEW ANECDOTES OF M-^Kf^^^. an op- 
 Tn" by the public favour. he met with an old act, ng 
 
 •^ !to «tothcThe.piancond.Ktor_le^ Kcan, "for y<»' 
 motoing. «»«' .. J „„„e of «. '"'" ' ' .<,, aware 
 
 f„ln from Dserliiig "=-^" ;', „„,cd by >i>e "'""■'S=' •""' 
 •-- n= "C „rabo'r cf"&cira and a Wn. K- 
 
 to one ot inv. »'"• 
 
 V^' 
 
1/ 
 
 b 
 
 ( 2+ ) 
 
 when apprised that Kcan was of the party, ushered them into 
 ail elegant room, thanked the actor for the honour that he did 
 hirn, and for ten minutes overwhclnned him wiih obsequious ci- 
 vilities. Kean bore it well for some time ; but at length knitting 
 his brow, and fixing his eyes upon the landlord with that 
 
 tremendous expression so often witnessed, said, «« Mr. H 
 
 I came into your house, at the request of these gentlemen, to 
 partake of some refreshment, and not to be pestered with your 
 civilities, which to me are so many insults. Look at me, Sir 
 w^ll : you do not recollect me, I see j but you know that I am' 
 Mr, Kean, Edmund Kean, Sir ; the same Edmund Kean that 
 I was fifteen years ago, when you kept a very small inn in 
 Portsmouth. At that time. Sir, I was a member of a strolhW 
 company of players, and came with a troop to your fair, where 
 I acted. I remember well ?hat I went one day to the bar of 
 your house, and called for half a pint of porter, which, after 
 1 had waited your pleasure patiently, was given to me by you 
 with one hand, as the other was extended to receive the money : 
 never. Sir, shall I forget your insolent demeanour, and the 
 acutcness of my feelings. Now, Mr. H , things are alter- 
 ed : you are in a fine hotel, and I am— but never mind ; you 
 
 arc stiU plain H , and I am Edmund Kean, the same EJ. 
 
 mund Kean that I was fifteen years ago, when you insulted me. 
 l.ook at me again. Sir. What alteration beyond that of dress 
 do you discover in me ? Am T a better man than I was then > 
 What IS there in me now that you should overwhelm me with 
 
 your compliments ? Go to, Mr. H , I am ashamed of 
 
 you ; keep your wine m yoiir cellar, T will have none of it «» 
 Having said this, the indignant actor turned his back upon the 
 mortified landlord, and with the whole of his companions im- 
 mediately left the house, to get their refreshments elsewhere. 
 
 Among the host of men of first rate talent and unquestioned 
 abihties, for forming a just estimate of Kean's claims to admi- 
 ration, none have done this highly-gifted actor more homage 
 than Lord Byron j so delighted was this great poet with ifi, 
 masterly ddineation of Richard III. that he visited the Thea- 
 tre everif night of his performing the character during the first 
 season of his appearance in London : he also sent him an ele- 
 gant snuff box from Italy, and addressed the following Line; 
 to him, which evince the very high opinion the Noble Bard 
 
 must have formed of his histrionic powers : 
 
 — — " Thou art the sun's bright child ! 
 1 he genius that irradiates thy mind 
 Cauglit all its purity and light from heaven ! 
 1 nine ia the task, with mastery most perfect, 
 To bind the passions captive in thv train ! 
 i^ach chrystal tear that slumbers in the depth 
 Of feeling's fountain, doth obey thy call ! 
 
( 25 ) 
 th«.'. not 8 joy or sorrow mortals prove, 
 I'jilJon to im^ir^y ^"'''JUe, to thee : 
 
 ?te only altar g="^?,3'bu7n fng mind. ^ 
 
 T^SdStt immortality I . ^y^^ <. Cabin e^ oi 
 
 u"T'Vr:.inciai .^--SSo/slat^ which the 
 
 August. 1809. is a c""°^» ^^^^cur^ The performance of 
 
 name of our hero ^^^f ^^J^^ °Xe SS^i ^^ ^""' " "°""t 
 u Catherine and Petruchto^** on Ote ^^^ ^^^^^^ „ , „p by 
 Petruchio. by Kkan. On tbe 25 h, . ^„a i,e played 
 
 Kean.'* called «m Sa^'^J^J^' ,«.,/ MarnW." Onthe28tb. 
 S^ir^ Faulkner in the « «^«i^ ''fJZ^ personated O.mo«^ 
 
 GrSmo^^'i^*" were ''^P^^J^^'^ti let er. not a word is sa,d m 
 ^^8 the Daran. Throughout th^ tier. ^^^ ^^.^^^ ^,3. 
 
 raiseof hisperformances Howl tie ^^^^^ ^^^^^ 
 ^p^^MhatereW o ^^^ /-?; ,,e fatne of the .an he 
 from one extremity to uic 
 
 had thus slightingly rtoticed I ^^ ^^^^^ ,,auded from 
 
 Mr. Sheridan was so much often ^^^^^^^ ^f ,^ 
 
 any concern in the -^-^"f l"^ „ever to^nter it ; f.om wh.ch he 
 firlthat he made a rf ol""°%"^;7f,,° ^u death. When Kean. 
 5 d'not deviate till a few monh^^^^^^^^^ ""-;^^\rPra 
 
 however, came out, and his talents ^ s^ed with an 
 
 of conversation and admiration. M • ^ ^^ ^.^ ^^^^^^^^,„„, ^e 
 
 tS during the whole time he stayed n ^.^ every word. 
 
 tnat uu. 6 . studied nis eveiy f wine. 
 
 --nnCS SH-'lVs aU=n.ion away frcn b,. 
 having even cttarmeu w 
 
 ^1 
 
( 26 ) 
 
 lie.'' When Kean was gone, Siieridam said — «< What sala- 
 ry do yoii give that man ?" — " Fifteen poiiiids a-week" was 
 the reply — «' 'Tis ashame ; (he said) he ought at least to 
 have double that sum ; take my word, you have got a treasure, 
 he will be the salva'.ion and support of the theatre." Mr. 
 SnEiiiDAN at length could no longer resist the attraction of 
 K ban's talents, but did go to the theatre to see his performance 
 of the character of Sir Giles Overreach of which he thought 
 so highly, that he said — " 7^/iere is mind indeed ! those are ta- 
 lents that can never fail, but must be more and more admired 
 ih^ more thej) are known." 
 
 l>^ 
 
 * 
 
* 
 
 /«