THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. INCLUDING A SUMMARY OF THE ENGLISH STAGE FOR THE LAST FIFTY YEARS. BY JOHN WILLIAM COLE. ' Orator ad vos venio ornatu prologi ; Sinite exorator ut sim. — Quia sciebam dubiam fortunam esse sceuicam, Spe incerta cettum mihilaborem sustuli."— Tehenui HEcyBii IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. ]. SECOND EDITION. LONDON : RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET, Ipublisltr in ©rbiiuinr to "^tx H^ajtstu. 1859. \Thc rl^hL^^^^t^^^^^tP^ rcsciTcd.] e^GL. 9^9 C68 FD. LONDON : K. CLAY, PRINTER, BREAD STREET HILL. PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. My work, published at the close of the London Season, has reached a Second Edition much sooner than my warmest hopes could have anticipated. For this success I am entirely indebted to the indulgence of the public, and the highly complimentary tone of a great majority of the leading papers which have honoui-ed me with their notice. To the latter, however, there have been a few remarkable exceptions. I pass these over without comment, being on all occasions an advocate for freedom of opinion, and feeling, in the present instance, abundantly satisfied with the general result. John William Cole. London, November, 1859. PREFACE. Many reasons and suggestions not necessary to enu- merate here, have induced me to offer these volumes, which have been long thought of, to the consideration of the public. Years of uninterrupted private friend- ship, and professional association of the most intimate nature with the leading personage of the work, have afforded me facilities and information which no one else possesses to the same extent. With these ad- vantages and materials, I sliall endeavour to add a faithful and, as I trust, a profitable contribution to the dramatic records of our country. It is an easier, as well as a less delicate task, to write a memoir of the dead than of the living. Facts may be stated and opinions delivered with more unreserved confidence, and diminished danger of offence or con- troversy, when they relate to one whose transitory probation has been completed, whose earthly career is finally closed, and to whom may be applied the touching elegy of Shakespeare : — " Fear no more the heat of the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages ; Thou, thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone and ta'en thy wages." » In the present instance, we may safely foreshadow the future by the past, and predict with certainty * Cymheline. that the end (far distant may it Le) will crown tlie work, and that " the catastrophe will do no dishonour to the conduct of the piece." * A biography must be undertaken by one of four persons : by the subject of it himself, by a stranger, an enemy, or a friend. If a man chronicles his own deeds, although it is . quite certain that he knows his motives of action and phases of thought, more minutely than they can be interpreted by another, human weakness interferes with a true delineation. In spite of himself, or his inherent conscientiousness, he will palliate or justify his errors, exaggerate his good intentions, or gloss them over to avoid the charge of egotism. If he descends to " Con- fessions," he commits moral suicide. The reputation of Rousseau, unenviable as it is, suffered immeasurably from his ; and the fame of Lord Byron would have been tarnished for ever, if Moore had not consigned his " private diary " to the flames. A stranger must acquire his knowledge from desultory sources, when and .where he can ; from current report, popular fallacies, general conversation, or imperfect documents. He can scarcely be ranked higher than a secondary evidence. An enemy dips his pen in gall, misrepresents every- thing, and systematically distorts truth for the express purpose of presenting a repulsive portrait. An honest friend is most to be depended on. He speaks from his own knowledge, has means at com- mand, and may be expected to use them fairly. In this light I hope to be considered ; and if the following pages evince a general disposition to praise rather than Junius. to censure, I have at least chosen the less popular course of the two, and Avoukl rather be accused of partiality than malice. A few passages, scattered here and there, liave ap- peared hefore. They are my own, and I trust there is no plagiarism in borrowing from myself. I have been most anxious to state facts correctly. The opinions and inferences are merely ventured as the results of a single experience. Let them be taken at their value, and judged according to the weight of argument by which they are supported. There are those who think that personal memoirs should be withheld altogether during the lifetime of the parties to whom they refer. In answer to this it may be observed, that the motives and actions of public men, in whatever positions they may be placed, are frequently misrepresented or open to erroneous in- terpretation. Surely, under such circumstances, those who know them best are permitted, if they are not absolutely called upon, to rectify mistakes before they are sanctioned by time, or receive the stamp of current value in the absence of refutatory explanation. John William Cole London, Jiibj 25, 1859. CONTENTS TO VOT.UME i. CHAPTER I. PAGK The Subject opened— Birth of Charles Keau— Brief Ketrospect of the Early Stage in England— Betterton— Booth— Quin— Garrick— Henderson— John Kemble— C4eorge Frederick Cooke — William T. Lewis— Reputed Decline of the Modern Stage, and Causes thereof— Increase of Theatres— Multiplication of Actors — Relative number of Theatres in London and Paris — Unfitness of Aspirants for Dramatic Honours — Drudgery of Inferior Actors— Fascinations peculiar to Acting— A Manager's Correspondence— How Actors might be Trained —Overflow of ]\Iodern Authors— Garrick's Mistakes in the Selection of New Plays — Perplexities of Management ......... 1 CHAPTER II. Covent Garden and Dniry Lane burnt down in 1808 and 1809 — Application for a Third Patent rejected— 0. P. Riots at Covent Garden — Injudicious Proceedings and Ultimate Submission of the Managers — Strength of the Covent Garden Company — Limited Attraction of Shakespeare's Plays —Retirement of Mrs. Siddons — Her Supplemental Re- appearances — Summary of her Career — Her Opinion and John Kemble's of the Diffi- culty of Acting — Anecdote from Dow's History of Hindostan — Importance of Sound Criticism — Ludicrous Mistakes and Mis-statements— Conventional Phraseology — Edmund Kean and Mrs. Garrick — Leigh Hunt and Hazlitt as Theatrical Critics — Extravagant Prejudices of the latter — Instances Quoted — Consolation for Sufferers 28 CONTENTS TO VOL. I. CHAPTER III. The Name of Kean in association with the Drama — Reputed Genealogy of Edmund Kean — Position of the Family during the Infancy of Charles Kean — First Engagement of Edmund Kean in London — His appearance in " Shylock" at Drury Lane — Triumphant Success — Great Influence of the JsTewspapers— Mr. Whitbread's Speech on the Close of the Season ... . CHAPTER I\'. Last Performances of Mrs. Jordan at Covent Garden — Her Death at St. Cloud — Miss Stephens — iliss O'N'eill — Her short and brilliant Career — Retirement of John Bannister — His Admira- tion of Kean — First Appearance of John P. Harley at Drury Lane — And of William Charles Macready at Covent Garden . CHAPTER Y. Edmund Kean the sole Prop of Drury Lane — Continued Success — Sir Giles Overreach — Kean's Opinion of Talma in " Orestes" —Original Anecdotes — Encounter with Booth in " Othello " — Difference of Applause in 1817 and 1857— Lord Byron's Opinions on the Actors of his Day — Conway and Warde, and the Rival Factions at Bath — Expectation of Kean and Miss O'Neill Playing together — Not accomplished CHAPTER YI. Retirement of John Kemble — Public Dinner and Presentation of a Vase — Talma's Speech — Kemble as an Actor— His Black- letter Learning — His splendid Library and Reasons for its Collection — Reflections on " Bibliomania "—Public Libraries and their Utility — Kemble's Roman Costumes — Talma's Togas introduced as more Classical — Garrick's Alterations of Shake- speare — Hard Usage of the Great Poet CHAPTER VII. Kemble's Physical Deficiencies— The Comparative Value of Voice and Eye to an Actor— Talma's Elocution — Mistakes in Cos- tume — Kemble's Principal Characters — His Notion that Na- ture intended him for a Comedian — His own Anecdote of his playing Charles Surface— Erudition of Promiscuous Audiences CONTENTS TO VOL. I. ix I'AGK — First Appearance of William Farren — Eetirement of Iris^h Johnstone — Comparison between Johnstone and Power — Mor- bid Temperament of Comic Actors — Threatened Revival of the Eosciomaitia — Miss Clara Fisher — Young Betty the Rosch's — Miss Mudie — A Legion of Roscii and Rosciw — Instances of Precocious Talent HI CHAPTER VIIL Edmund Kean in "King Lear" and "De Montfort" — Reference; to the Original Performance of the latter Play — Causes of its Non-Success — Superiority of "The Stranger" as an acting Drama — Miss Baillie's Plays on the Passions — Rayner and Constantino Palteologus — Mrs. Hemans's " Vespers of Palermo" Retirement and Death of John Emery— Romeo Coates, the Amateur of Fashion — Edmund Kean and Young together at Drury Lane — Retirement of Joseph Munden — Death of Talma — Early Education of Charles Kean — His First Appearance on the Stage 126 CHAPTER IX. Charles Kean at Drury Lane — He leaves London for Practice in the Country— His First Appearance in Dublin — His Cordial Welcome — Anecdotes of the Dublin Galleries — Indulgence of the Public to the Caprices of Favourite Actors — Edmund Kean and the Audience of the Cobourg Theatre — Charles Kean at Glasgow — Reconciliation with his Father— They Perform to- gether for the Son's Benefit, in "Brutus" — Natural Acting the Consummation of Art — Talma's Opinion on this Point— Garrick and Dr. Johnson — Anecdote not in Boswell — Harmless Vanity of Actors— Modern Criticism on Garrick's King Lear — Davies, Murphy, and Gait, on Garrick — Mistakes of Anec- dote-hunters — Garrick's Career a very happy one 154 CHAPTER X. Fall of the Brunswick Theatre — Lamentable Loss of Life, anu many severe Casualties — Religious Inferences— Charles Kean returns to Drury Lane — Appears in Romeo — Discouragement of the Papers, and Coldness of the Public— Visits the Country again, and acts with his Father in Dublin and Cork— At the Haymarket in the Autumn of 1829— Success in Sir Edward Mortimer— Th.Q Press praise him for the First Time— Visits VOL. I. b X CONTENTS TO VOL. I. PACE Amsterdam and the Hague — The Manager leaves the Company to shift for themselves —They are extricated by a Benefit — Charles Kean's First Visit to America in 1830 — His warm Reception and Success — Death of Robert William EUiston — His First Great Benefit at the Opera House — His Extravagant Propensities— Embarrassed Aflairs of Covent Garden Theatre — Appearance of Miss Fanny Kemble — She retrieves the Property from Bankruptcy 173 CHAPTER XI. Retirement of Mrs. Davenport and Fawcett — Easy Management Fifty Years ago — Fawcett's Brusque Planner and Literary Censorship — Nicolo Paganini — His Visit to England and Ire- land — Anecdotes and Eccentricities of the Great Violinist — Retirement of Charles Young — Summary of his Private and Professional Character 187 CHAPTER XII. Charles Kean returns from America — Long Passage Contrastea with present Speed — Serious Accident on Landing — Engaged by Laporte at Covent Garden, and appears as Sir Edu-ard Mortimer — Qualified Success — Acts lago to his Father's Othello — Last Performance of Edmund Kean— His Death and Public Funeral at Richmond — Tablet erected to his Memory by his Son — Sale of his Efiects by Auction — Fate of the Drury Lane Vase — Chai'les Kean leaves London and determines never to return until he can command his own Terms — Reflections on the Perishing Nature of the Actor's Art, with its relative Advantages and Disadvantages — Anecdotes of Ancient and Modern Actors 203 CHAPTER XIII. Charles Kean at Dublin — Engagement in Hamburgh — Successful Opening— Performances Interdicted by the Local Authorities — Attachment to Miss Ellen Tree, afterwards Mrs. C. Kean — Ludicrous Anecdotes at Exeter — The late Duchess of St. Al- ban's — Marquis of Xormanby— Lord Pluakett — Great Success in Edinburgh — Lord Meadowbank— Compliment from Mr. Strange, who remembered Garrick in Hamlet — Lord Jefl&-ey — Madame Malibran— Her unexpected Death at Manchester — CONTENTS TO VOL. I. Death of Charles Matthews, sen.— Montague Talbot, a Diil)lin Actor — Matthews's Gallery of Theatrical Portraits — Edwin Forrest, the American Tragedian — Retirement of Charles Kemble — His Return for a few Nights, by desire of Her dresent Majesty — Retirement of John Listen — Death of John Reeve CHAPTER XIV. Charles Kean making rapid ground in the Provinces— Correspon- dence with Mr. Macready relative to an Engagement at Covent Garden— Engages with Mr. Bunn— Appears as Hamlet at Drury Lane- Unprecedented Success— Warm Eulogiums of the leading Papers — Contrast of Position and Prospects be- tween 1827 and 1S38 24.': CHAPTER XV. Complimentary and Critical Letters 26 » CHAPTER XVI. Continued Success— iZicAarc? the Third— Sir Giles Overreach— Public Dinner and Presentation of a Silver Vase, in the Saloon of Drury Lane Theatre — Engagement at Edinburgh — Resumed Performances in London — Othello — Commencement of a Hos- tile Clique — Correspondence with the Company of the English Opera-house— With the Secretary of the General Theatrical Fund— With the Bath Company 279 CHAPTER XVII. Correspondence with Sir Edward Bulwer relative to a new Play — Engagement at the Haymarket — Hamlet— Str Giles Overreach — Second Visit to America — Burning of the National Tiieatre at New York— Attack of Bronchitis, and Performances sus- pended in consequence — Visit to the Havannah — Letter from thence — Return to England in June, 1840 — Second Engage- ment at the Haymarket — Hamlet— Richard the Third— Shylock — Sir Giles Overreach— Macbeth — Article headed " Charles Kean and his London Critics " — Engages at the Haymarket for Three successive Seasons CONTENTS TO VOL. I. CHAPTER XVIII. Farewell Benefit of AVilliam DoTvton at the Opera-house — JsTego- tiation of Charles Kean with Sheridan Knowles for a New Play — Engagement at Brighton — Threatened Opposition over- come — " Romeo and Juliet " at the Haymarket— Epigram on . "The Stranger" — Farewell Benefit of Samuel Russell — Mar- riage of Charles Kean with Miss Ellen Tree— Leading Inci- dents of her previous Theatrical History— Her wonderful Attraction in America — Sheridan Knowles's "Rose of Arra- gon," at the Haymarket — His Excellence as a Dramatic Writer — Purity of his Female Characters — Death of Frederick Yates — Brilliant and. Short Career of Adelaide Kemble — Second Engagement of Charles Kean at Drury Lane — Hos- tility renewed 319 CHAPTER XIX. Mr. and Mrs. C. Kean visit America together— Residence there for nearly Two Years— Enormous Receipts of the First Year — "The Wife's Secret"— "King John "—Richard the Third" — Return to England — Short Visit to Dublin— Appearance at the Haymarket in " The Wife's Secret " — Successful Run of the New Play — General Attraction of the Engagement — Pri- vate Theatricals at Windsor Castle— Charles Kean appointed Director by her Majesty — Difficulties attendant on the Post — He presides at the Fourth Anniversarj- Dinner of the General Theatrical Fund- Speeches on that Occasion— Retirement and Death of ilrs. Glover LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES OP CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. CHAPTER I. THE SUBJECT OPENED — BIRTH OF CHARLES KEAN — BRIEF RETROSPECT OF T^HE EARLY STAGE IN ENGLAND— BETTERTON —BOOTH — QUIN — GARRICK HENDERSON — JOHN KEMBLE — GEORGE FREDERICK COOKE — WILLIAM T. LEWIS — REPUTED DECLINE OF THE MODERN STAGE, AND CAUSES THEREOF — INCREASE OF THEATRES — MULTIPLICATION OP ACTORS RE- LATIVE NUMBER OP THEATRES IN LONDON AND PARIS UNFITNESS OF ASPIRANTS FOR DRAMATIC HONOURS — DRUDGERY OP INFERIOR ACTORS — FASCINATIONS PECULIAR TO ACTING — A MANAGER'S CORRESPONDENCE- HOW ACTORS MIGHT BE TRAINED— OVERFLOW OF MODERN AUTHORS — GARRICK's MISTAKES IN THE SELECTION OP NEW PLAYS —PERPLEXITIES OP MANAGEMENT. Charles John Kean, the leading object of this work, and the most prominent character in the follow- ing pages, was born on the 18th of January, 1811. From about that date, we propose to bring together a few passing records of the art with which his name is so honourably and inseparably associated, and to accom- pany these details with such reflections as the subject may suggest. Historians and biographers usually pre- liminarize in a lengthened introduction, in which they VOL. I. B 2 THE LIFE AND THEATKICAL TIMES often go back to a remote period, connecting antecedents with actualities, and tracing effects from causes in a complicated chain. The long-winded, advocate in Eacine's comedy (" Les Plaideurs ") opens his case "before the commencement of the world; " whereupon the dismayed judge directs him at once to " pass on to the deluge." We abstain from such remote retro- spection for several reasons. In the first place, because Horace, an acknowledged preceptor in composition, has laid down a contrary rule, and recommends plunging at once " inmediasres ;"" — Secondly, because introductory chapters are usually passed over by impatient, rapid readers, who form a strong majority ;— and, Thirdly, from the impossibility of saying anything new or inte- resting on matters which have been worn threadbare in a thousand specific volumes, and a whole library of detached essays and lectures. All who have bestowed any attention on theatrical topics are well aware that the precursors of the Drama in England (and other countries of modern Europe) were mysteries and moralities, founded generally on sacred subjects, and sometimes handled with singular irreverence: — that in time, these strange conceptions gave way to interludes and plays of rude construction and homely incident ; of which " Gammer Gurton's Needle," by Bishop Still, and " Gorbodue," by Sackville, Lord Buckhurst, and Thomas Norton, may be named as amongst the earliest and most remarkable ; that the sun of Shakespeare rose and expanded to unparalleled per- fection under the fostering patronage of Elizabeth and the first James ; that his contemporaries and immediate successors were Hey wood, Lyly, Marlowe, Ben Jonson, Marston, Green, Beaumont and Fletcher, Webster, Ford, Massinger, and others of less note ; that, in 1633, theatres and plays had become so popular and licentious that they OF CHARLES KEAN, F..S.A. 3 excited the ire of the puritanical Prynne, wlio denounccil them and their frequenters in a monstrous helJuo Uhrorum, entitled, " liistriomastix ; or, the Players' Scourge and Actors' Tragedie," a quarto of one thousand and twelve close pages (that nobody ever read through), which took nine years to compile, and seven to print, and cost the author his worldly substance, his ears, and his liberty ; that during the long quarrel between Charles I. and his parliament the theatres were suppressed, and nothing flourished but " civil dudgeon," and cut-and- thrust polemics ; that the actors fought, like loyal sub- jects, on the king's side ; that some were killed, and others promoted; that, under the Protectorate, they gained precarious bread by stealth ; that, at the Resto- ration, they again basked in the rays of royal favour, but that foreign taste and corrupted fashion banished Shakespeare for a while ; that he was re-installed by Betterton, to whom succeeded Booth, who was followed by Quin, who was deposed by Garrick, who substituted nature and passion for frigid declamation, and esta- blished what was then called the new school, which would now be considered as stiff, formal, and antiquated as the cumbrous court suits and powdered wigs in which (to use honest Bottoms phrase) he discharged the heroes of the tragic drama. There he stands, taken from the life, in Zoffany's painting of the murder scene in " Macbeth " (now in the unrivalled gallery of the Garrick Club), with Mrs. Pritchard by his side, and looks the heau ideal of a small state-coachman in full and gorgeous livery on a gala day. The pair are much more suggestive of the butler and housekeeper con- triving the death of the intoxicated squire than of a Saxon or Celtic thane and his helpmate of the eleventh century perpetrating the murder of a sleeping king. Prodigious, indeed, must have been the talent that b2 4 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES could triumph over the associations which such a grotesque costume inevitably provokes. Tlie secession of Garrick in 1776 made way for Henderson, who did wonders, in defiance of more physical deficiencies than even those of Le Kain, the great French Roscius. But he was cut off prematurely by an accident, in 1785, before he had completed his thirty-eighth year* Then the Kemble dynasty reigned for more than a quarter of a century in acknowledged supremacy. George Frederick Cooke came, like a meteor, in 1800, and, as he said himself, " made black Jack tremble in his shoes ; " but irregular habits marred his fortunes and enfeebled his genius. In 1810, he departed for America, whence he returned no more. His death took place at New York, on the 26th of September, 1812. The physician who attended him in his last illness said, that systematic intemperance had destroyed one of the finest constitutions that man could have possessed. Edmund Kean, who partly modelled himself on Cooke, and surpassed his original, erected a monument to his memory when he visited the New World. When sober and himself, Cooke was not only a great actor but a well-bred gentleman in appearance, manner, and conversation., When drunk, he degenerated into s, noisy, brutish bacchanal, fit only to herd with the rout of Comus or Silenus. His style was as opposite to that of Kemble as can possibly be conceived. It was fiery, impulsive energy, opposed to dignified col- lectedness ; quick, impassioned utterance, instead of regulated intonation ; epigrammatic terseness and pun- gency, in place of lofty eloquence ; rapid motion and * His wife gave him a wrong medicine by mistake — an embrocation instead of a draught— wliich killed him. She was never made ac- quainted with the immediate cause of his death. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 5 gesticulation, rather tlian studied attitudes, or lengthened pauses. Deficient in artificial refinement, be sought to be natural. In a soliloquy, he was eminently eflfective. Instead of flourishing about, and crossing the stage backwards and forwards, as many actors do, he con- centrated himself, and stood almost motionless, not addressing the audience, or making them a party to his thoughts, but wrapped up in a kind of self-conference, in which the soliloquizer may be said to be communing with his own soul. Cooke was not gifted with the elegant figure and deportment of John Kemble. His arms were short, and his movements abrupt and angular. His features were powerfully expressive of the darker passions, and he had a strong vein of sarcastic humour. His voice, though somewhat high and sharp in its ordinary tone, possessed great compass, and carried him without failure through the most arduous character ; a pre- eminence over his rival in which he absolutely revelled, and never omitted to exercise when he found an oppor- tunity. His best parts were Tago, Richard the Third, Glenalvon, Shylock, StuMij, Sir Giles Overreach, Kitely, Sir Archy MacSarcasm, and Sir Pertinax Mac- Sycophant. The latter, as a whole, may be considered one of the most complete pictures ever presented on the stage. Those who have seen it (and a few still sur- vive) can never forget the impression it left upon them. Of Cooke's many followers, the late Charles Young was the only one who recalled their prototype in this particular character. All the others were either tame, or outrageously coarse, without humour.* King George III. commanded the " Man of the World " five * Mr. Phelps must be quoted as a living exception. He never could have seen Cooke. We have not witnessed his performance, but have heard it highly extolled by good judges. 6 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES times iu two seasons, and declared that Cooke's Sir Pertinax surpassed all that he recollected of Garrick in his very best assumptions. Cooke's genius confined itself to a narrow range. It was well remarked by a critic of the day, that he did not play many parts to perfection, but that he played those in which he really excelled better than anybody else. That critic had not then seen Edmund Kean, who went beyond Cooke in Shi/lock, Richard, and Sir Oiles Overreach, not to speak of his Othello, in which he stood alone and unapproachable. We must here request our readers to go back with us for a year or two, behind the commencement of our proposed reminiscences, while we give a short paragraph to the memory of William Thomas Lewis, of whom, we believe, no separate biography has ever been written. He came to London in 1773, and retired on the 29th of May, 1809. The Covent Garden company, being recently burnt out of their own theatre, were then play- ing at the Haymarket. Lewis took leave in his favourite character of Michael Perez, the " Copper Captain." For a long time, during his early progress, he was com- pelled to toil, with adverse attributes, in tragic parts. In these he acquitted himself respectably ; but in the more congenial line of light comedy, he soon surpassed all competitors. In this walk, Elliston followed Lewis with a voice of greater power and variety, which en- abled him to round oiF a sentiment or wind up a pathetic appeal with superior effect. Lewis filled the difficult office of acting and stage manager at Covent Garden, for twenty years, with admirable tact and great practical skill. Few, in that invidious post, so thoroughly escaped the ill-will of authors and performers. The former he easily made his friends, for he was the chief support of modern comedies ; OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 7 but the complaints of the latter he was somethiies obliged to bear, which he did with most enviable equa- nimity of temper. His style suffered from the extrava- gant parts which the authors of the day, and Reynolds in particular, thought proper to write for him in their five-act farces. In these he received great applause ; but no judicious observer would place his performance of such ephemeral eccentricities on a level with his Ranger, Mcrcutio, or Benedick. " I saw him," says Cooke in his Journal (quoted in Dunlap's Memoirs), " in his best style, before he descended to be the gen- teel buffoon of modern farce, miscalled comedy. For thirty years he was the unrivalled favourite of the laugh- ing Muse, in all that was gay, frolicsome, humorous, whimsical, and, at the same time, elegant." He then adds, " Billy Lewis, as a stage manager, was the model for making every one do his duty by kindness and gentlemanlike treatment." Lewis had a natural animation, an overflowing exu- berance of spirits, which never tired, and of which modern audiences and actors have not the most remote conception. Were he to be suddenly produced now, he would be pronounced insufferably extravagant, and set down as a lunatic escaped from Hanwell or Bedlam, We have seen light comedians, as they are called, and call themselves (heaven save the mark !), take more time with a sentence than he usually allowed to a scene. The very sound of his voice at the wing, before he entered, was the signal for mirth and increased pul- sation, which flagged no more until the curtain fell. He was never quiet for an instant. His speed antici- pated the express train and the electric telegTaph. He was here, there, and everywhere, in a twinkling, always doing something; and although it must be admitted that he not unfrequently " o'erstepped the modesty of 8 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES nature," yet there was a grace and a charm in his extra- vagance, and an epidemic infection in his hilarity, which belonged to himself alone. Long before the audience had time to think whether he was right or %\Tong, or whether they ought to laugh or appear shocked, he was off to something else, which carried them along with him in spite of themselves, and drowned criticism in a tempestuous whirlwind of ap- plause. " Push on, keep moving," was his perpetual maxim and practice. To be tame or prosy, when by his side on the stage, was utterly impossible. He was well versed in every minute point connected "s\ath the mechanism of the dramatic art, and the means of pro- ducing the most certain effects. One of his favourite axioms was, that no change of dress, however charac- teristic or essential, no excellence in acting, could restore the good temper of the audience, or revive their excitement, if either should be interrupted by a long wait between the acts. Perhaps he learned this during his early acquaintance with our old friends of the Dublin gallery, who, in days of yore, never failed to cry, " Up with the rag ! " even before the act-drop, so classically designated, had time to reach the ground. Reader, you probably remember, and may have often seen, the late Richard Jones. He was a lively, agree- able, gentlemanlike, animated actor, but be assured that he was not William Thomas Lewis, who has never had a legitimate successor, or an equal in his peculiar vein — unless, perhaps, we may be induced to consider Elliston as entitled to the inheritance. Lewis died within two years after his retirement, aged sixty -three. Amongst his best characters may be reckoned, Belcour, Rover, Ranger, Mercutio, Petruchio, the Copper Captain, Benedick, Millamour, Atall, Mar- plot, Lackland, Vapid, Qoldfincli, Tom Shuffietony and OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 9 Jeremy Diddler. His son, the late Tliomas Lewis, many years lessee of the Liverpool Theatre, bequeathed, in an evil moment, a celebrated full-length portrait of his father, as the Marquis, in the " Midnight Hour," — an admirable likeness and painting, — to the National Gallery. Who has ever seen it there? and in what dark lumber-room or damp cellar is it condemned to rot ? Far better would it have been to have left such a memorial to the Garrick Club (the house was once his private residence), where it would have been hung up in light and warmth, equally safe from the rats and the remorseless restorer. That the stage has declined in modern times, and that the true love for the drama has evaporated, more espe- cially amongst the higher classes, are assertions so often repeated, and so generally believed, that it may appear hopeless to combat them. In support of these assumed facts, a host of causes are duly assigned ; some substan- tial, others visionary, but all tending to the same effect. Amongst them are prominently set forward, — the dege- neracy of living actors ; the incompetence of managers ; the constantly increasing number of theatres ; the an- nulling of the old law of limitation ; the bad taste of the public, which inclines in other directions ; the spread of education, that mighty leveller, which dispels all mists, opens all eyes, and brings all seeming marvels down to their true standard; the late dinner hour; the all-absorbing spirit of speculation ; the decrease of cash ; the increase of outward piety; the income-tax; the rail-roads, which carry all the world to see everything somewhere else ; the rapid character of the age, which fevers the blood of humanity, and incapacitates everybody from listening pa- tiently to any one given subject for half an hour at a time; the vast multiplication of cheap amusements, in and out of doors ; mechanics' institutes, " salons micsicales,'" 10 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES clubs and debating societies, casinos, monster concerts, drum polkas, and music for the million ; lectures on every conceivable science and invention ; mesmerism, table-rapping, spirit-raising, and clairvoyance ; phre- nology, geology, toxicology, ontology, nosology, and electro-biology.* These, and other objections whicli baffle enumeration, are brought to bear on the question with the crushing force of a breaching battery or an avalanche. What can be advanced on the other side, in arrest of judgment ? It is useless to argue ; we must look for facts. The date of Charles Kean's birth falls within the period which has been called, by a hackneyed and pedantic figure, '* the palmy days of the drama." According to the census of 1811, London, in its extended capacity, then con- tained 1,009,546 inhabitants. There were within this boundary eleven theatres: three with what were considered perpetual patents, Drury Lane and Covent Garden unre- stricted as to time, the Haymarket open in the summer only; and eight minors limited to certain periods and performances. In this list, the Italian Opera House is not included, being then, as now, looked upon in the light of an exotic exception. In 1859, the population of this overgrown metropolis approaches two millions and a-half, and has more than doubled within forty-eight years ; while, despite the supposed counteracting in- fluences, the number of places in which, under various names, stage representations are given, amount at least to twenty-eight. There are not so many in Paris, although the French capital has long been universally quoted as, beyond all comparison, the most theatrical city in the world. The population, it is true, is little more than half that of London ; but mere extent of * The latest of the Ologles. "What does it mean? OF CHARLES KExVN, F.S.A. H population is no criterion by wliicli to test the love of amusement. All Paris lives in the theatres. The London patents, alluded to above, if they still exist, have ceased to possess any value. They resemble the hereditary championship— a nominal office, of which the duties are in abeyance. The Lord Chamberlain's annual licence, wherever it extends, has abrogated ex- clusive privileges, and sanctions dramatic performances generally, without reference to the vexed questions of legitimate and illegitimate, regular and irregular — ques- tions on which much ink and argument have been un- profitably wasted, and which never were, and never could be brought to any conclusive definition. It may be added, as a corollary, that although adaptations from the French, and melo-dramatic spectacles, have many followers, the great plays of Shakespeare are more popu- lar, more attractive, and more frequently represented now, than at any former epoch which may be selected for parallel. From these facts, the following inferences may be mathematically deduced : — Notwithstanding the despondent prophecies and ele- giac lamentations of the elders, who are ever exclaiming that our pure national drama is dying, dead, and buried; who aggrandize the past at the expense of the present, and advocate the inherent decay of every human inven- tion, — the stage is still alive, and flourishing in whole- some vigour. The taste for the drama has increased rather than declined, and in the right direction, from which it wan- dered only in the absence of trustworthy guide-posts. The extinction or deterioration of what were once called the two great national theatres, the double Palla- dium of dramatic prosperity, has neither extinguished nor deteriorated Shakespeare. 12 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES And, finally, there is no lack of brilliant living talent on the stage, although not concentrated, as formerly, in one or two prominent fields of action. The three- deckers may not he as numerous, but the aggregate weight of metal is much greater. When Listen, during his early apprenticeship at Newcastle-on-Tyne (where he was a great favourite) quarrelled with the manager, Stephen Kemble, and threatened to resign his engagement unless relieved from an inferior part, the burly autocrat told him that he might go as soon as he pleased, for actors were to be found under every hedge. He was wrong.* More than fifty years later, Charles Kemble, in the course of his examination before the Committee of the House of Com- mons, on the theatrical question, informed that august section of elected legislature, that they might, if they pleased, build theatres at the corner of every street in London, but that actors Avere beyond the creative powers of Parliament. He was right. Yet actors (such as they are) have been forthcoming on demand, as fresh merchandise finds its way into the market, according to increased consumption. But the new supply, though abundant in quantity, is not equal in quality to the ancient stock. The living talent, of which we have already spoken, is to be sought for amongst the scattered remains of the " Old Guard," rather than in the ranks of their half-educated recruits. Fifty years ago, an engagement in London amounted to a settlement for life. As soon as a new actor\s position was ascertained in one of the national theatres, he left it * A day or two after, while taking a walk in the fields, King Stephen observed his rebellious subject seated in a ditch, carefully watcliing the opposite hedge. " What are you doing there, Mr. Liston," said he, " when you ought to be at rehearsal ?" " Looking for actors, sir," replied the son of Momus, " but I haven't found any yet." OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 13 no more ; service became inheritance, as in other com- munities. To obtain this post, he waited for a vacancy, and then graduated in due course, from Dublin, Edin- burgh, Bath, or Liverpool. These were the acknow- ledged training-houses from whence supplies were regularly drawn for the metropolitan boards. They exist no longer as such. Cheap prices and free trade have brought them down to the level of large minors. Eailroads carry all who have cash and cmiosity, to see the attractive novelties produced in London, long before they can reach the out-quarters. Our ancestors ventured on long journeys once or twice in a century. Their descendants half live in an express train. The twenty- eight theatres and theatrical saloons of the metropolis are ever in want of hands. They tempt away the rising- talent while crude and half-drilled, and, in nine cases out of ten, induct it into a worse school than it has quitted. The modern disciples of Thespis, it must be admitted, are not as soundly brought up as were their predeces- sors under the old system, and many of them are ill qualified for a profession which demands high intellect, varied acquirements, polished bearing, and regular gen- tlemanlike habits. This might be remedied, and the theatre elevated to its proper position, if the authorities could be induced to consider the stage, as in other countries, a portion of the state, and a valuable imple- ment in the hands of government. But this is not within the category of probabilities. For who is there to take such an enlarged view, to break down the bar- riers of precedent and routine, and to reason prejudice into an experiment which would surely be rejected on proposal as equally unimportant and impracticable ? They take a very different view of these matters in Paris, where the four leading theatres, which are con- 14 THE LIFE AND THEATKICAL TIMES sidered national, receive an annual grant of 1,160,000 francs (48^333/. 6s. 8d.), apportioned as follows: — To the Academic Imperiale .... 620,000 fr. „ Theatre Francais .... 200,000 „ „ Opera Comique 240,000 „ „ Od^on 100,000 „ The young actors of the present day are, perhaps, the fastest pupils of a fast age. Thej are not content to walk before they run : nothing satisfies them but to begin with a gallop. " Vaulting ambition," in their eyes, supersedes the necessity of education — education in general, and theatrical education in particular. Inclina- tion is too often mistaken for genius, while inclination itself is frequently prompted by idleness. Luxurious midshipmen, in the olden times, who disliked the severe discipline of the forecastle and mast-head, were wont to exclaim, "I can't stand this any longer ; I'll sail large, and bear up for a marine" — the marine officer's life being considered one of unmingled ease. He kept no watch, superintended the mess, played all day at back- gammon, and slept eleven hours on an average. All he had to do was to fight when required, which he did most gallantly. In the same manner, aspiring youngsters, who groan under the monotonous drudgery of the office or the counter, suddenly behold bright visions of fame and for- tune through the certain, immediate, and easy avenue of the stage. Yain is it to reason vrith man or woman, youth or damsel, when he or she is once imbued with the theatrical mania. Nothing satisfies them but the experi- ment, which, in a gi-eat majority of cases, eventuates in utter failure or hopeless mediocrity. Success and profit will smoothe the roughest road, and lighten the heaviest task ; but obscm'ity and small pay, joined to hard work, OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 15 are enongli to break the back of Hercules himself. The life of a galley-slave is not enviable, but it may be looked upon as one continued siesta when compared with that of the rank and file, or utility-men of a theatre. How they get through the duties of their position is beyond a miracle. In a pantomime, for instance, they represent, on the average, four characters in the opening, with treble that number in the comic sequel, and a change of dress for each. Young am- bitionists of honours histrionic, who are weary of their indentures, and fancy they have souls for poetry, figure to themselves the stage as a haven of refuge and enjoyment, a nice, jolly, easy, idle kind of do-nothing life. Let them begin at the beginning, and enlist as utilitarians for the run of the Christmas spectacle. There is nothing like experience for cooling down enthusiasm. Long before their term of service has expired, they will petition for dismissal, commit some breach of discipline to entail immediate discharge, or use interest for a speedy exchange into the comparative comfort and relaxation of the tread-miU. Truly there must be a fascination in acting peculiar to itself, and beyond that fabulously attributed to the basilisk or the rattle-snake. As war is called " the needy bankrupt's last resort," so is the stage often con- sidered a certain resource for all who are unfit for any- thing else, or too lazy to learn the rudiments of a laborious calling. It is the only trade which teaches itself, or comes by inspiration, without apprenticeship. As Pitt was a "heaven-born minister," why not a per- fect actor, without practice? "I think I could do it quite as well, if not better!" This is a common delusion of the conceited, untried, theatrical tyro who from pit or gallery listens to the applause which a Kemble or a Kean can only elicit after twenty years of 16 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES hard service. It is worse than useless to point this out to him. He pages you with ready instances, and tells you of Holland, and Powell, and Mossop, and the elder Sheridan, who became great actors all at once; and of Spranger Barry who ste]:)ped from behind a counter on the boards a perfect Othello, Jaffier^ and Varayies, and two years afterwards shook Garrick on his throne. All this, and more to the same effect was once said to an experienced manager, by a shambling, blear-eyed strip- ling, without a voice, and scarcely five feet one in stature, who panted to come out in Hamlet or Macbeth. It was remarked to him in reply, that Barry was singularly gifted by nature with physical requisites, such as are seldom combined in the same individual, and that with- out some external advantages, and at least, moderate lungs, the case would be hopeless. " Oh," said he con- temptuously, " genius can do without such paltry aids. Le Kain, the great French tragedian, was little and deformed, with a cast in one eye, a defective utterance, and an ugly, inexpressive face. Henderson's voice was thick, he spoke as if his mouth was stuffed with worsted, had flat features and a clumsy figure. Garrick was diminutive and inclined to fat, and Edmund Kean was often husky." Heaven only knows where he had picked up these rebutting facts, for he seemed perfectly un- educated, and rejoiced in a broad, provincial accent, which made the blood curdle. A manager's correspondence supplies a curious and varied chapter in the history of human character. It includes remonstrances and applications from authors, actors, amateurs, and ambitious aspirants ; anonymous counsellors, anxious partisans, secret enemies, petitioners with claims, and pretenders without any ; useful and useless hints, friendly and hostile admonitions from well- wishers and evil-wishers ; threatenings and denuncia- OF CHARLES KEAN^^j^^ii^-^'' 17 tions from the discharged, the rebellious, the neglected, the ill-treated, or the incompetent. The following are genuine specimens, culled from a huge mass, preserved by the parties to whom they were addressed, and submitted to the selection of the writer of these volumes : — " Sir — i am a yung man is dasiros of actin sheekspeer in yur theter. I hav had a gud eddicashun, and am careless of trubl and ixpinsis — I luk for no remunera- shong i am worthy to command, an in the meane time waite yure plaisure. an anser to a B at 3 Boot lane will cunfur obbligashun. i doe not minshun my name till resaiving a favrite anser. Yours &c. Patrick Flynn." Here is another, in a different strain, from a fair lady :— " I have long resolved on a plunge which w^ll deter- mine the colour of my future life. The stage is my passion, and I am well read in the best dramatic authors. I have never acted, but have rehearsed before good judges, who assure me I shall soar above all competition. I wash to know what I am to expect for three perform- ances of LadT/ Macbeth, Julia in the ' Hunchback,' and OpTielia ; the three plays, altered and re-written by myself to suit my own conceptions. I am twenty-three, my figure is petite, and has been pronounced faultless. My features are expressive, my eyes and hair of the raven's hue, and my voice melodious. I do not think much of any actress now on the stage ; and have formed ideas of my own, which I shall be happy to communi- cate on a proper understanding, if this letter leads to wliat I expect, an interview. The bearer waits for your reply." VOL. I. C 18 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES On this occasion, managerial curiosity excited a desire to see the correspondent. Time and place being ap- pointed, she came in form, attended by a duenna, and presented to view a little, corpulent, swarthy personage, unquestionably on the shady side of thirty-five, and altogether what the French ungallantly call laide a faire peur! Nothing could exceed her astonishment and indignation when she found her ^^ews discouraged, and her improvements on Shakespeare and Sheridan Knowles denied a hearing. A third letter ran thus : — " Sir, — I leel very desirous to ' smell the lamps.' I have been flattered by friends that 'my mission' is decidedly to preach Shakespeareanity. I shall esteem it a favour yom* informing me your terms for a dozen lessons in elocution. This is all I require for my stock- in-trade." A fourth contained a more formidable announce- ment : — " Sir, — I am a riter of tradgedys, and with gode in- spirashun, can doe one in a week. I have a large stok reddy. If you will name a time when I can call uppon you the terms will sone bi setled. I was bum (Qy. born ?) a poet." No. 5, varied again : — " Sir, — Should there be a vacancy for a junior actor in your theatre, I should be happy to offer myself as a candidate. I am eighteen years of age, and of good, plain English education. I have never figured on the stage, but have a gi-eat desire to do so. I can have excellent testimonials, am a great reader, and six feet two in height." OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 19 No. 6 resembles the preceding : — " I hope you will excuse me for the trouble I give you, but I am so terrible stage-struck I cannot help it. A few gentlemen advised me to write to you, to try and get on the stage. I acted but once, that was in the ' Lady of Lyons.' I acted Claude. I would rival you, if such a thing could be." No. 7 is singular and interesting, from a lowly but educated youth, written and spelt correctly, and sugges- tive of very salutary reflections : — " Sir, — I hope you will excuse the liberty I have taken in thus writing to you, and which I have no doubt you will when you know the cause that prompts me to do so. I am in my nineteenth year, and finding that Heaven has gifted me with talents for both poetic and dramatic writing, I appeal to your world-famed generosity for support ; being so poor myself that I can hardly furnish paper to write upon. I have been employed for the last two years in the Great Western Railway as engine- cleaner at Is. Qd. per day ! — upon which small sum I have managed to live honestly ; but now even that has failed me, and as a last resource I look to you for assist- ance, which, if refused, I know not where to turn my thoughts but to the army. " I do not write to you, Sir, as a humble petitioner for money, but as one conscious of the powers which Providence has bestowed upon him, and feels it a duty to seek for that aid which would enable him to use them to advantage. I have written a great deal, both poetic and dramatic, and mostly in those hours when I should be resting my body after the toil of the day, but which for want of patronage I have not been able to turn to any good. Therefore if you could give me c2 20 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES any berth in the theatre where my services would be worth 12s. per week, that I might be enabled to pursue my literary labours, the everlasting prayers and thanks should be due of " Your very humble and obedient Servant, * % * * *^ " P.S. I inclose a few of my pieces in their first writing (which I have not been able to finish for want of time), as specimens, leaving to yourself to judge what difference is caused by leisure, place, and position in such kinds of composition. I should be for ever grateful if you would give me an audience. Will call on Monday, 10 A.M. ''Dec. 2\st, 1855." The last epistle we shall quote at present is of a higher order than No. 7, and even more painful in cha- racter : — " I am the son of a clergyman, and lately a member of the University of Cambridge. My father has left me to work my own way in the world, — in fact to live by my wits, and I see nothing before me save the stage or enlistment, as my education fits me for nothing else. I need not say I should prefer the former, and could you give me any employment, however small the emolument, and in the humblest capacity, I should be much obliged. In short, if there be any post in your establishment in which a gentleman, and, if I may so call myself, a scholar, may be of use to you, I shall rejoice to fill it, and do my best to merit your approval." In every scientific or intellectual profession, the stage alone excepted, some rudimentary acquirement is deemed necessary. There must be instruction, preparatory dis- cipline, examination, a qualifying certificate, a degree, OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 21 or a diploma. The elements of any single art can only be conquered by a regular course of study, while the art of acting, which combines many in one, is supposed to be attainable at once, by instinct or volition. On what rational principle can an actor be made off-hand more readily than a painter, a sculptor, an architect, an astro- nomer, a mathematician, an engineer, a medical practi- tioner, or a lawyer? It has often been thought and urged that schools or colleges might be established for the regular training of dramatic neophytes. Garrick more than once contemplated some institution for this purpose, but gave way before the apparent obstacles. These are numerous, no doubt, but not insurmountable. The most difficult to grapple with is the general apathy on the subject which unfortunately prevails, and is likely to increase. It can scarcely be disputed, that the stage will con- tinue to exist as long as civilization lasts and human nature retains its present development. Next to the religious principle, a desire to imitate in action is the strongest innate feeling of the human mind. The first indication of reason that a child gives, is to copy some- thing that it has seen or heard. The propensity is universal. Blind fanatics may persuade themselves and endeavour to convince their listeners, that theatres are purely Satanic in origin and influence, and that they will be, or ought to be, abolished. As well might they attempt to alter the system of creation. They would employ their time to more advantage in trying tor- elevate what they cannot overturn. Why should not the stage be regulated and improved by salutary restrictions and indispensable education? In many countries on the continent the number of physicians, surgeons, and apothecaries is strictly regulated by municipal law, according to the population of the town or district, and 22 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES the bills of mortality proclaim the advantage of the enactment. If actors were confined Avithin the same limitations, and the exercise of their vocation pronounced unlawful without a certificate, both art and artists would hold their heads higher than they do at present; they would rise in general estimation ; the social and political utility of either would be increased, and the stage would then become permanently what Cicero says it was intended for, " Imitatio vitce, speculum consuetudims.'^ The uninitiated in the arcana of theatrical government will scarcely believe in the number of new pieces, of every conceivable form and construction, which are sent in every season for acceptance. Half a dozen per week is a moderate computation for a leading metropolitan theatre. There is a continual glut of dramatic genius in the market, if bulk be taken as a test of merit. Then follows the physical labour of reading them all, either in person or by competent deputy. Many authors are so impatient, that they propose to call the next day for an answer ; and some will even wait, or come back the same evening. The manager's most dreaded nightmare is when the applicant proposes to read his own play. It has been said, and loudly echoed (by themselves), that writers of talent and brilliant promise have been crushed or held back by the tyranny of theatrical potentates, who, from utter ignorance and incapacity, from want of common judgment, from pique or undue partiality, or from sheer laziness, are given to discard good plays, and to *adopt bad ones ; or to reject indiscriminately all the rich prizes that are offered to their acceptance. Such things have happened certainly, but not often. Managers may commit errors, like other people, but it is reasonable to suppose that they study their own interest, and understand something of their own business. If they do not, they suffer in a tender point, in the pocket, OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 23 and pay dearly for mistakes. A balance on the wrono- side of the ledger is a great remover of prejudices. Garrick was thrifty and acute, generally right in his tactics, cautious, clear, and calculating; but still not infallible. He either would not, or could not see the talent of Mrs. Siddons, and Henderson. This might be jealousy, for he was an incarnation of that weakness ; he trembled and fidgetted even if Punch obtained a larger audience than usual. An author himself, he under- valued and feared to accept Goldsmith's " Good-natured Man," while living on the most friendly terms with him ; he played fast and loose with his comedy, tortured him by vexatious delays, winding up with a refusal ; drove him to Covent Garden, and lost " She Stoops to Con- quer," which met with the greatest success, and still holds its place on the acting list. He was also blind to the merit of Home's " Douglas," which he repudiated, while he accepted subsequently, " Agis," the " Siege of Aquileia," and the " Fatal Discovery," three very in- ferior, unattractive, and forgotten productions from the same hand. When Colman sent in his play of " The Afr-icans" to Covent Garden, it fell to John Kemble to read it, in his capacity of acting-manager. The story is simply this. Three brothers of an African tribe are burnt out of their village by enemies, and fly to the woods with an aged mother. They are reduced to the last extremity of physical suffering, and cast lots that one may be sold to obtain sustenance for their parent. " What is this new thing of Colman's about?" said Harris to his partner and deputy ; " Oh," replied Kemble (who had skimmed it carelessly, or perhaps had not quite recovered the preface to the " Iron Chest"), " it will never do. Here are three black men, who sell their mother." " Colman must be mad," rejoined Harris ; " return it to him at once." 24 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES The play was afterwards produced at the Haymarket, aud rather coldly received. Its moderate attraction arose principally from a ridiculous parody on " Will you come to the Bower," introduced by Liston, as Matthew Mug, and nightly encored. Not a great many years since, a band of authors, who conceived themselves victimized by managerial caprice, formed a confederacy or club, and published at their own expense a series of plays entitled " The Rejected Drama," one or more of which they also contrived to get acted. But the public voice, in both experiments, vindicated the individual judgment. The authors stood condemned on their own evidence. They perpetrated self-immolation, as the Hindoo widows were wont to do at the Suttees, and as Thelwall would have done when tried for high treason in 1794, if he had persisted in pleading his own cause. " I'll make my own defence, I'll be hanged if I don't," whispered he to Erskine, his leading counsel. " You'll be hanged if you do," replied the future Lord Chancellor, calmly, which brought the refractory client to his senses in a twinkling. It is something to save a man from his friends, but it is even better to save him from himself. What can induce any one to encounter the endless turmoil, the dissatisfaction, the risk, the anxiety, the incessant wear and tear, both mental and physical, which are inseparable from the management of a theatre ? It must be one of three controlling impulses which entraps so many into this devouring maelstroom — lofty emula- tion, an enthusiastic passion for genuine art, or love of power; which last enthrals the human species as rats are subdued and fascinated by prussic acid and oil of rhodium. The arch-enemy of man angles with many baits, but he catches more unwary victims with power than with any other lure in his magazine of temptations. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 25 It lias been often said, and truly, that a theatre repre- sents an epitome of a kingdom, a microcosm or miniature of the gi-eat globe itself, a condensed edition of humanity, combining within its narrow limits all the complicated machinery, all the mingled passions, propensities, an- tipathies, conflicting interests and jarring feelings, which are exhibited on a more expanded scale in the political and moral legislation of a mighty empire. Man may be subdivided into distinct classifications, and each may retain its own identical characteristics ; but a theatrical community alone embraces man in extenso, and calls into operation at once, and in bold relief, every variation of which his subtle components are susceptible. As Shakespeare said, with undeniable truth, " all the world's a stage," so may we transpose his apothegm, with equal fidelity, and say, " the stage reflects a picture of all the world." The philosopher who studies human nature can open few volumes in which he will find such ample information. A manager of a theatre is a tolerably potent monarch, on a small scale, as far as mere power is concerned ; that is, the power to order, direct, and control the internal economy of his little dominion, as swayed by judgment or prqudice. He may do good or evil, justice or in- justice, and render those under him happy or miserable, to a considerable extent, according to the bent of his disposition, which may be benevolent or capricious, kind or cruel, mild or vindictive, long-suffering or impatient under contradiction. He is not compelled by the con- stitution of his kingdom to have either ministry or cabinet council unless he pleases; and can dismiss or rule without them if they interfere with troublesome suggestions, or run counter to his wishes. He can make a law, if one is wanted on an emergency, without waiting for the forms of a debate, or the cavils of opposition. He 26 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES lias only to saj, "let tins he, le Rot le vent^'' affix liis sign manual, send forth the edict, and the Sultan's Firman is not more implicitly acknowledged hy his well-disciplined subjects. Mutiny is almost unknown, as a special article in the Codex Dramaticus provides that disobedience of lawful orders, or misprision of rebel- lion, is followed by constant discharge, without benefit of remonstrance. But this exalted position has its " drawbacks," as the valet said of his place, which he would not change with the king, if his master only got drunk six nights in the week, and gave him a single chance. A manager does not of necessity inherit the purse of Fortunatus. His banker's book represents finity. He is often com- pelled to pause in an important enterprise for want of supplies. He has no power to levy constitutional taxes by Act of Parliament ; his state resources are drawn from voluntary contributions alone. If the public and he happen to ftill out, and take different views, his royal prerogative dwindles into an empty shadow, enve- loped by harassing and unprofitable responsibility. Theodore of Corsica may be quoted as a substantial monarch in comparison. Talleyrand, the witty and unscrupulous, defined the government of Russia as an absolute despotism, limited by assassination. He might have described a theatre also as an uncontrolled monarchy, not unfrequently bounded by an empty exchequer. In fine, to manage a theatre is to live in a perpetual fever of excitement, to wear out existence in hopes more constantly disap- pointed than realized, to see the best calculated arrange- ments shattered by an unforeseen casualty, and to be daily building up the fortunes of others, while you are hourly wasting your own health and store. More than one dramatic potentate has been compelled to take home OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 27 to himself the powerful description in whicli Spenser sums up the ills that beset the career of another class of popularity-seekers, — placemen and political depen- dents : — " To lose good days that might be better spent, To waste long nights m pensive discontent. To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow. To feed on hope, to pine with fear and sorrow, To fret the soul with crosses and with cares, To eat the heart tlu'ough comfortless despairs, To fawn, to crouch, to wait, to ride, to run, To spend, to give, to want, to be undone !" 28 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES CHAPTER II. COVEXT GARDEN AST) DRURT LANE BURNT DOWN IN 180S AND 1S09— APPLICATION FOR A THIRD PATENT REJECTED— O. P. RIOTS AT COVENT GARDEN — INJUDICIOUS PROCEEDINGS AND ULTIMATE SUBMISSION OF THE MANAGERS— STRENGTH OF THE COVENT GARDEN COMPANY— LIMITED ATTRACTION OF SHAKESPEAUE's PLAYS — RETIREMENT OF MRS. SIDDONS HER SUPPLEMENTAL RE-APPEARANCES— SUMM^VRY OF HER CAREER— HEB OPINION AND JOHN KEMBLE'S OF THE DIFFICULTY OF ACTING ANECDOTE FROM DOW's HISTORY OF HINDOSTAN — IMPORTANCE OF SOUND CRITICISM— LUDICROUS MISTAKES AND MIS-STATEMENTS CON- VENTIONAL PHRASEOLOGY— EDMUND KEAN AND MRS. GARRICK— LEIGH HUNT AND HAZLITT AS THEATRICAL CRITICS — EXTRAVAGANT PREJUDICES OF THE LATTER— INSTANCES QUOTED— CONSOLATION FOR SUFFERERS. About two years before the birth of Charles Keaii, both the great theatres were burnt to the ground within five months of each other, — Co vent-garden on the 19th of Kovember, 1808 ; Drury-lane on the 24th of February, 1809. The close proximity of these lamentable events gave rise to many suspicions of foul play, but nothing ever transpired beyond surmise. The received opinion now is, that the first arose from accident, the second from shameful neglect. Covent Garden sprang again from its ashes in renovated splendour within twelve months. Drury Lane, being beset by heavier incum- brances, remained in abeyance for more than three years and a-half, until the 12th of December, 1812, during the greater part of which interval the company set up their standard at the Lyceum. It is surprising that theatres are not burnt down more frequently than they are, considering the increased OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 29 danger arising from gas, if not properly tended (when is it so ?), the indigenous facility of combustion, and the difficulty of watching the watchmen. A fire in a theatre may be prevented, but is not easily extinguished when once it gains head. The best precautious, next to a general system of carefulness, are, a small portable engine on the stage, with a fifty-foot hose attached, and a good supply of water ready in tanks on the roof. All the mischief is done in the first few minutes, while messengers are despatched for the brigade engines, the alarmed neighbours are shouting " Fire ! " and a few are knocking their heads against each other, in a futile search for the plug, which, of course, no one can find at the critical moment. A fire-plug resembles a police- man — always in the way except when it is wanted. Tell-tale clocks are good common-place evidences of the care or neglect of the night guardians ; but if these functionaries are experienced in their business, and "know what belongs to a watch," they can find out ways and means of putting them into such a thorough state of disrepair as would baffle the mechanical skill of Archimedes, or defy Mr. Hobbs, the great American pick-lock, to restore them to serviceable condition. During the parliamentary session of 1810 and 1811, great efforts were made to obtain a patent for a third winter theatre. The bill to that efi'ect, strongly sup- ported, was thrown out chiefly through the exertions of Mr. "Whitbread, who took much interest in the affairs of Drury Lane. His vehement opposition in the House of Commons decided the question in the negative. The promoters of the measure issued prospectuses, and wrote pamphlets containing many proposed reforms and good resolutions. Amongst others, no freedoms of any kind, or orders, even to autliors and performers, were to be granted; on the ground that such privileges gave rise to 30 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES cabals, by introducing partisans for invidious purposes, or were used as matters of unlawful traffic, and often as decoys, to give a factitious appearance of success to a theatre deserted by tlie paying community. In the list they forgot to enumerate the best of all arguments on their side, — an orderly house is constitutionally a dull one. Your sons of freedom form a cold audience. They never applaud heartily, and discourage the lengthened run of a new piece. There they are in their places every night, and want variety. It is a curious fact in physiology that people who never visit a theatre until by some means or other they get on the free list, are seldom absent from it afterwards. They go, not from enthusiasm, but because they have nothing else to do. We think more highly of what we pay for than of that which we can obtain for nothing. Two or three shillings form a serious investment, and those who risk it do so with a full conviction that they will get value received for their money. They expect to be entertained, and the antici- pation feeds the result. Their minds are predisposed to admire all they see and hear, rather than to cavil or criticise. In 1811, Covent Garden had scarcely recovered from the celebrated O. P. riots, which destroyed the first season, and marred the opening of the second. A long and tedious account of these disgraceful proceedings is contained in two octavo volumes, entitled " The Covent Garden Journal," compiled for Stockdale, and published by him in 1810. The facts, on the whole, are correctly, but not impartially, stated, the tone of the work being hostile to the proprietors beyond what they deserved. The public were more in the wrong, and more unreason- able in their demands, than were the managers in their proposed scale of prices, and the reasons assigned for the augmented tariff. Cobbett, the gi-eat radical of the OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 31 day, observed in his " Eegister," " tlie demand for old prices was unreasonable, as being a violation of the rights of property, and an attempt to compel people to sell entertainment at the price pointed out by the pm-- chaser." The Times newspaper took another view, and said, "■ Let the company play to empty benches — let the public agree to desert the theatre — and the proprietors must come down." If the 0. P. party had pursued this plan, nothing could have been said against them ; but they had no right to disturb the quiet spectator, and prevent him from hearing what he had paid his money to hear. Right, however, on such occasions, is the last thing thought of. As Kate Matchlock says, in Steele's comedy of the " Funeral,^' " a war is a war ; " so with the majority of playhouse insurgents, a riot is a riot, let the original cause be what it may. The managers committed a fatal error in the employ- ment of professional pugilists to coerce the refractory pit. This direct attack upon his independence, roused the ire of John Bull beyond fever heat, and induced him to exact severe and humiliating terms before he granted an amnesty to the vanquished authorities. Peace was at length concluded, after sixty-seven nights of uninter- mitting hostility. The dismissal of Brandon, the box book-keeper, was peremptorily and most unjustly in- sisted on, as a sine qua non, although the unlucky official had merely obeyed orders, and discharged his duty faithfully to his employers.* During this sharp rebellion, John Kemble, hitherto the popular idol, and the classic pillar of the stage, was nightly exposed, in his capacity of acting proprietor and manager, to the most scurrilous abuse and outrageous indignity. The conduct of the 0. P. faction towards Charles Kemble was, if possible, still worse, as he held * Brandun was subsequently reinstated. 32 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TOIES no post in the obnoxious government, and it was never pretended that he had given them any personal offence. Yet he too was to be insulted, and for no reason on earth but because he was John's brother. In the course of the dispute, much had been said and written against the increased number of private boxes, insinuating thej were likely to be converted into places of assignation and intrigue. Cobbett said on this point, " As to the private boxes, considered as a source of immorality, I do not think much of that, being of opinion that the quantity of immorality will remain much the same, whether those boxes be public or private." The year 1811, in which Charles Kean first saw the light, was one prolific in public events of great impor- tance. Three battles were won by the English in Spain, — Barossa, Albuera,andruentes D'Onore ; General Hill sm-prised Girard at Arroyo de Molinos, and nearly annihilated his corps ; an action was fought between the British sloop. Little Belt, and the American frigate, President, which led to the subsequent war ; more than half-a-million sterling was subscribed in England to relieve the sufferers by the French invasion of Portugal ; the Duke of York resumed the office he had so long ably filled, of Commander-in-Chief ; the Prince of Wales became Eegent of the United Kingdom ; and the for- tunes of the French Emperor appeared to reach their consummation by the birth of a son. The theatres flourished, notwithstanding the heavy taxes, and the continual drain of the war, which seemed to resemble an interminable Chancery suit, or a never-ending game of chess, to be bequeathed to posterity. The company at Covent Garden included great names : Mrs. Siddons, Mrs. Jordan, Mrs. C. Kemble, Mrs. H. Johnston, Mrs. Dickens, Mrs. Liston, Mrs. Davenport, OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 33 Miss Bolton, Miss S. Booth, Mrs. Gibbs, John and Charles Kenible, Young, Liston, Emery, Fawcett, Farley, Munden, Blanchard, Simmons, and Richard Jones. A wonderful phalanx of talent, such as we are not likely to see collected together again under the free trade system. Yet, " Henry the Fifth," reputed to be one of John Kemble's most successful revivals, attracted but five audiences ; and the far-famed " Julius Csesar " (in the following year), the renown of which rang through the world, with his own Brutus, the Cassius of Young, and the Mm^Jc Aiitony of Charles Kemble, a cast of the play which has never since been approached, could not command more than eighteen repetitions. Mrs. Siddons, then on the eve of her departure, acted only thirty-three times during the season of 1810—1811. The attractive novelty was, beyond all dispute, the grand melo-dramatic equestrian spectacle of "Timour the Tartar," written expressly for the display of live cavalry, and which, although produced so late as the 29th of April, ran, without intermission or failure, for forty-four nights. Mrs. Siddons retired formally on the 29th of June, 1812, the night being announced as her benefit. She selected Lady Macbeth for her closing performance. Her friends insisted on having the play terminated, when she made her final exit, in the sleeping scene. There were those amongst the audience who disliked this abrupt conclusion, and expressed themselves to that effect ; but they were overpowered and silenced. This extravagant compliment was an absurdity imported from enthusiastic Ireland. When j\Irs. Siddons died towards the close of a tragedy, it had been for years usual in Dublin to drop the curtain immediately, as she was often so exhausted as to render it expedient to do so. But the case was ouite different with regard to " Macbeth." It looked VOL. I. D 34 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES like sacrificing Shakespeare to his representative. Thus, if she had selected the Lady Constance for her leave- taking, " King John " must have been cut short with the close of the third act. After a pause of about twenty minutes, Mrs. Siddons was once more discovered, sitting at a table, simply attired in white. She rose, came forward, and delivered a poetical farewell, written for the occasion by her nephew, Mr. Horace Twiss. A great actor or actress, after a premeditated and an- nounced retirement, ought never to appear again. The curtain, once fallen, should rise no more. A return resembles a revival of the dead. Such yearnings, if voluntary, are as little entitled to respect as the resump- tion of imperial power by Maximian after his abdica- tion. Mrs. Siddons was solicited in a very urgent manner to come back to the stage. A regular committee was formed for the purpose, but she had the good taste to resist their importunities. The gentleman who began the attempt greatly suspected that in her heart she wished to form a new engagement. Between the years 1813 and 1819, she acted on nineteen occasions, always without personal profit, and for benevolent purposes. Three of these performances were for the theatrical funds; ten for the advantage of the family of her deceased son, in Edinburgh ; two at the express desire of the Princess Charlotte, in 1816 ; and four for the benefits of Charles Kemble and his wife. Her real last appearance occurred at Covent Garden, as Lady Randolph, on the 9th of July, 1819.* She was then within a few days of sixty-four, having been born on the 5th of July, 1755. When Mrs. Siddons closed her regular professional career, in 1812, her powers had in no way declined, but her figure had become corpulent and unwieldy ; so much * For the benefit of Mr. and Mrs. C. Kemble. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 35 SO, that, latterly, cushions were brought and placed on the stage for her convenience in the dying scene of Zara in the " Mourning Bride." When she knelt to the Duke, as Isabella in " Measure for Measure," she was unable to rise without assistance. This great actress, who may almost be said to have been born on the stage, was the eldest of a singularly gifted family. Her father, Roger Kemble, was a pro- vincial manager and actor of good repute. In early youth, she lived for some time in a dependent condition with Lady Mary Greathead, at Guy's Cliff in Warwick- shire, from whence, in her nineteenth year, she married for love ; the object of her choice being Mr. Siddons, a performer in her father's company, an indifferent actor, but a very handsome man. She herself was in her youth transcendently beautiful, with every physical requisite that could lead to eminence on the stage. Yet her first appearance in London, in 1776, during Garrick's last season, amounted to a failure. She appeared as Portia in the "Merchant of Venice," without producing much effect, acted with the retiring Roscius as Mrs. Strickland in the " Suspicious Husband," and Lady Anne in " Richard the Third," and then subsided into Venus in the Vv^alking pageant of the " Jubilee." Six years later she returned in the full bloom of womanhood, after mature practice, and took the town by storm as Isabella, in Southern's " Fatal Marriage," which character she re- peated twenty-five times during the season. Her supre- macy was at once acknowledged, and never afterwards disputed. For thirty years she reigned without a rival. All who have written on the subject, and all who remem- ber her personally, have agreed in saying that she far surpassed her ablest predecessors and contemporaries. She was, perhaps, the greatest tragic actress that ever trod the boards of any stage, or adorned the theatre of d2 36 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES any country ; but it would have been better for her fame if she had never attempted comedy. Nature, which had so bountifully lavished her gifts in other respects, denied the versatility which could command equal admiration in the double worship of the sister Muses. It was no uncommon occurrence for females to be carried out of the house in fits during some of Mrs. Siddons' impassioned scenes in her early career ; and the actors declared that the best comedians, in the richest farces, failed to revive the spirits of the audience to mirth, so totally had she depressed them. Mrs. Clive came up from her retirement to see her act, and ex- claimed, with honest enthusiasm, "It is all truth and beauty from beginning to end ! " Dr. Johnson paid her several eloquent compliments when she visited him in Bolt Court. After she had retired, he loudly ex- pressed his admiration to Dr. Glover, who was present. " Sir," said he, " she is a prodigiously fine woman ! " "Yes, sir," replied Dr. Glover ; " but do you not think she is much finer on the stage, when adorned by art?" " Sir," rejoined Dr. Johnson, " on the stage art does not adorn ; nature adorns her there, and art glorifies her." Mrs. Siddons studied laboriously and incessantly. She was never satisfied with her execution of any part, and thought she could imjn-ove it to the last. Bishop Home, in his " Essays and Thoughts on various Sub- jects," has the following observations with regard to this fact : — " Mrs. Siddons, the famous actress, receiving many invitations to the houses of the great and opulent, excused herself from accepting any of them, because her time was due to the public, that she might prepare herself in the most perfect manner for the duties she had undertaken. When a clergyman is invited to spend his hours at card-playing, or chit-chat meetings, has he not an apology to make of the same kind, but of a more OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 37 important and interesting nature ? And if he be defi- cient in the duties of his profession for want of so exercising himself, will not Mrs. Siddons rise up in judgment against him, and condemn him?" * It has been recorded that John Kemble wrote out the part of Hamlet thirty times, and each time discovered some new and effective reading which had escaped him before. During his last season, he said, " Now that the failure of my physical powers has warned me to retire, I am only beginning thoroughly to understand my art." After Mrs. Siddons had left the stage, a friend, calling on her one morning, found her walking in the garden with a book in her hand. ''What are you reading?" inquired the visitor. . " You will hardly guess," replied she; " I am looking over Lady Macbeth, and am amazed to find some points in the character that never struck me until now." Such is the true nature of the profession which the enemies of the stage are pleased to call idle, and casual observers, who enjoy the effect without knowing the labour by which it is accomplished, are apt to consider easy. They little know the constant exercise of mind and body it requires. As Cumberland has justly re- marked, in his "Observer," "there is no calling or employment in life that can less endure the distractions of intemperance and dissipation." From Dow's History of Hindostan, the above-named writer has copied the following anecdote : — " During these transactions, the gates of Delhi were kept shut. Famine began to rage every day more and more, but the Schah was deaf to the miseries of mankind. The public spirit of Tucki, a famous actor, deserves to be recorded on this occasion. He exhibited a play before Nadir Schah, with which that monarch was so well pleased, that he commanded * Bishop Home's Works, vol. i. p. 357. 38 THE LIFE AND THEATKICAL TIMES Tucki to ask, and what he wished should be done for him. Tucki fell on his face, and said, ' king, com- mand the gates to be opened, that the poor may not perish.' His request was gi-anted ; half the city poured into the country, and the place was supplied in a few days with plenty of provisions." Few actors can expect to reach the eminence or good fortune of rescuing a city from starvation, but the humblest can render themselves useful and respectable members of society, and may aspire to catch a few of the reflected rays which the great lights of the profession have cast around the youngest and most complicated of the ornamental arts. To retm-n to Mrs. Siddons. In her youth she excelled in delineating the tender pathos of Juliet, Behidera, Moyiimia, Desdemona, Mrs. Beverley, and Isabella. In these she drew as many tears as she commanded plaudits. As she became mature and mati'only, the grander and more stately heroines identified themselves with her peculiar attributes. Amongst her best characters may be placed foremost, Lady Macbeth ; Zara, in the " Mourning Bride;" Margaret of Anjou, in the " Earl of Warwick;" Elvira, Constance, Queen Katharine, Voluninia, Herraione, and Lady RandoljjTi. She was not fortunate in original parts. Perhaps the greatest triumph of her genius was the importance and interest with which she contrived to invest the repulsive mistress of Pizarro, in Sheridan's inflated paraphrase of Kotzebue's melodrama. James Ballantine, Sir Walter Scott's friend and printer, editor of the Edinburgh Weekly Journal, and one of the ablest theatrical critics of his day, in a notice of what was then supposed to be Mrs. Siddons' last appearance in Edin- burgh, on the 13th of !March, 1812, thus sums up his eulogy — and those who never saw the subject of it may be assured that it is not in the slightest degree ex- aggerated : — " We have lost, and for ever, an artist, OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 39 whose performances rendered appropriate praise cither difficult or unnecessary, and adequate praise impossible. Future times may wonder at, and perhaps douht, in their honest love of some contemporary favourite, the magic wonders delivered to them by the present age, of the powers of Siddons; but we can only say, and, we think, truly say, that no sculptor or painter, in the sublimest flights of his fancy, ever embodied— no poet, in the most luxurious indulgence of his imagination, ever described — a creature so formed, so gifted, to agitate, to awe, and to astonish mankind by her professional powers as she whose matchless form, face, voice, and eye are now finally withdrawn from our public admira- tion." It is truly invigorating to read this manly, fervid tribute to exalted genius, untainted as it is by the leaven of critical restraint or exceptional qualification. And this leads us to say a few words on criticism in the abstract — an art which accompanies the art of acting as an inseparable pendant, freely indulged, as freely abused, and sometimes little understood by many of its prac- titioners. No human excellence has ever yet achieved universal suffrage. The most ambitious votary of fame must content himself with a majority. To be without detrac- tors is a certain indication of mediocrity. Homer, Plato, Isocrates, and Aristotle had their Zoilus and Aristarchus; Crebillon, Voltaire, and the wits of the age of Louis XV. had their Fr(^ron ; Addison and Pope their Dennis ; Garrick his Ealph and Kenrick ; Talma, Mole, and La Rive, their Geoffroy; and Charles Kean his Douglas Jerrold. " Ten censm-e wi-oug for one who writes amiss ;" so said or sang the bard of Twickenham, in his cele- brated essay. Professed critics will not be disposed to 40 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES admit the soundness of this dictum. Our modern Zoili are, to the full, as imperative in their decisions, and quite as well convinced of their infallibility, as were the ancient founders of their school. Perhaps the two easiest things in the world are, to give advice and to find fault ; and these very faculties may be taken as the leading reason why both propensities are so constantly indulged. The converse of the proposition is equally true. Nothing can be more difficult than to give good advice or to find fault judiciously. As the drama includes a combination of many arts, to examine and report correctly on the merits of a play or an actor, requires a far wider scope of knowledge, with a greater variety of acquirement, than would suffice to pronounce opinion on any particular poem, painting, or statue. In the vast quantity of theatrical criticism that passes under the public eye, we meet with endless theories, and very often these theories are extravagant and contradictory. The writers name promptly enough what appears to them erroneous, but they are not so ready to point out how error is to be rectified. They see the disease, but are usually unprovided with a cure. Amongst these gentlemen, some are also dramatic writers themselves — a questionable foundation for gene- ral impartiality. We should certainly not select them, by choice, on a special jury to try the merits of their brethren whose productions had been chosen by mana- gers in preference to their own. A novice in writing is apt to imagine that he can master the difficulties of criticism by inspiration. It is enough to be employed, and he becomes at once an ex officio oracle. Some are governed by cliquerie, private partiality, or personal prejudice. Others are bound together in a solemn league and covenant of dogmatical opinions, drawn within a narrow circle. Any dissenters OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 41 from their own code they impale with unsparing seve- rity. Let it not be supposed that these remarks are intended for sweeping or universal application. We admit unhesitatingly that there are many honourable, independent, and accomplished exceptions. Theatrical notices are, from necessity, often composed and committed to the press in a few hurried moments late at night, after the performance is over, when the writer is fatigued in body and jaded in mind, before he has allowed himself time to arrange his ideas, or to feel certain as to his own impressions. This part of the system was fully discussed in an article headed " Lon- don Newspapers and London Theatres," which appeared in No, 342 of Chamhers Edinburgli Journal on the 20th of July, 1850. The author has evidently been be- hind the scenes, and is well acquainted with theatrical machinery. Strange eccentricities are sometimes indulged in by professional chroniclers, who undertake to instruct tlie world on the passing events of the day. Criticisms have been written beforehand, in anticipation of the performance of a play duly announced, but suddenly changed in consequence of the illness of a principal performer; the writer not intending to be present, but having made up his mind as to who he should praise and who condemn. On the following morning the public have been enlightened with an elaborate disqui- sition on what never took place. More than once, in such cases, actions have been brought, and damages recovered for libel. Stephen Kemble, during his management of tlie theatre at Newcastle-on-Tyne, severely punished a local journal which had assailed him by this hazardous mode of vituperation. The same course was adopted with equal effect by Jackson, of Edinburgh. On Saturday, 42 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES tlie 5th of October, 1805, a revival of Farquliar's comedy of the " Constant Couple" was announced for that evening at Drury Lane, but postponed on account of the illness of Elliston. A Sunday paper, however, contained the following account : — " Last night, Farquhai-'s sprightly comedy of the ' Constant Couple ' was most laboriously and successfully murdered at this theatre. Ellis- ton tamed down the gaiety of Sir Hairy Wildair with a fehcity which they who admire such doings can never sufficiently extol. The gay knight was, by the care of his misrepresentative, reduced to a figiu-e of as little fantastic vivacity, as could be shown by Tom Errand in Beai(, Clinchei-'s clothes. Beau Clincher himself was quite lost in Jack Ban- nister ; it was Bannister, not the Clincher of Farquhar, that the perfoimance suggested to the audience. IMiss Mellon was not an un- pleasing representative of Angelica; but criticism has not language severe enough to mark, as it deserves, the impertinence of Barrpnore's presuming to put himself forward in the part of Colonel Standard. We were less offended, although it was impossible to be much pleased, with Dowton's attempt to enact Alderman Smurjgler. But the acting was altogether very soiry." The maligned actors brought an action against the authorities of the paper, who compromised, and got off cheaply, by paying 50Z. to the theatrical fund. Diu-ing the summer of 1857, a morning paper pub- lished a studied criticism on the first performance of Madame Bosio and Mario, at the Italian Opera House, Lyceum, in " La Traviata^' telling how the theatre was crowded from floor to ceiling, how the great singers were applauded, how they were called for at the end of each act, and how they were crowned with acclamations and bouquets at the close. There were also many flourishes on andante movements, ascending scales, Jioriture, and other musical obscurities, known only to the chosen few who are learned in the Eleusinian mysteries of the opera. But the whole was a fiction, for the piece had been unexpectedly withdrawn, and another substituted. On the next day, an editorial apology announced the OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 43 summaiy discharge of the iuventivc reporter. "V^'e would suggest to gentlemen of this lively turn of imagination, 'that if they find it convenient to write their articles beforehand, common prudence might whis- per that it is dangerous to commit them to press with- out being quite sure that the event came off as recorded. The same paper seems to have inherited lineal ten- dencies to this clairvoyant mode of anticipating Avhat does not happen. In the Theatrical Inquisitor for Octo- ber, 1812 (a periodical in continuation of the Monthly Mirror), we find the following extract, headed " News- paper Criticism," taken from the pages of the identical journal's predecessor. "Oct. 3d.— We were supremely gi-atified on Tuesday evening, at Coveut Garden Theatre, during the representation of the opera of the " Cabinet," to hear that Mr. Sinclau- had attended to oiu- critical advice, and that his adoption of it was eminently serviceable to his profes- sional character. In executing the folacca, he veiy prudently abstained from any wild flourishes, but kept strictly to the law of melody, by wliich he gained upon the public ear so strongly, and so deservedly, that he was encored three times, by the unanimous desire of the whole audience ; and we trust, after so decided a victory upon the part of tme melody over the vagaiies of science, that he will never more be fantas- tical. Unadidterated nature is modest and simple, and, like the pure beauty, is ever most efficient in attraction when she is unbedizened by the frippery of art. A meretricious female resorts to ffiiery in the hope of acquiring a substitute for the lost loveliness of vii-tue ; but the most cunning labour of her toilette is not propitious to the aims of her desire." On this foggy jargon the Inquisitor comments thus : — " To this exquisitely-laboured piece of criticism there is but one solitary objection, — the opera of the ' Cabinet ' was indeed underlined at the bottom of the Monday play-bills, for the following night; but in those of Tuesday it was changed to the ' English Fleet/ which 44 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES was accordinglj represented on the Tuesday evening — that very evening on which the reporter of the veracious journal to which we allude heard ]\Ir. Sinclair thrice encored in the polacca. This is exercising the power of second sight with a vengeance; but we suspect that most of our readers may be, like the governor of Tilbury Fort in the ' Critic,' very little disposed to admit the possibility of seeing things that are invisible : — * The Spanish fleet thou can'st not see, because It is not yet in sight.' " When Bouffe was last in London, in 1851, it so happened that the wi-iter of these pages had never seen him. Watching the announcement of one of his most popular characters, he repaired to the St. James's theatre, fiill of expectation. But the great luminary was suffering a teiuporary eclipse, and unable to shine. Instead of flourishing on the boards, he lay writhing in bed, under the gentle discipline of two physicians. There was a total change of performance, but, of course, no Bouffe. The next day, a paper of extensive circula- tion stated that he had appeared on the previous evening with unwonted brilliancy, and had sent the audience home in a state of rapturous delight. Particular points were noticed with particular praise. The reader was sorely puzzled, and began to doubt if he had been there ; long habit having induced him to place implicit reliance on anything he saw in such responsible columns. " Can such things be?" thought he, " and am I only a myth, a fabulous existence, an embodied chimera, a sort of physical dream?" He was fast lapsing into Pyrrhonism ; and felt himself in much the same predi- cament in which he once saw the late heroic Marquis of Anglesea at his own table, who, during a conversation OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 45 on the battle of Waterloo, became so bewildered by the inventions and details of a gasconading amateur, who had not been present in that great field, that he looked down on the cork substitute which supplied the place of the leg he had left there, and rubbed it several times, to be convinced that he was really himself, and not a surreptitious double. More than twenty years before the demise of the late Duke of Cumberland, after- wards King of Hanover, a Bath paper announced his death officially, with a black border and several minute particulars. Not many months since, a daily paper animadverted most harshly on the singing of an eminent tenor in Haydn's " Creation," at Exeter Hall. He had been announced, but was absent from severe indisposition. Shortly after, a ludicrous incident occurred at Chelten- ham. A black man, patronised by a physician of that fashionable resort, undertook to deliver a lecture on the social condition of his class. The room was filled, and the audience expectant, but the lecturer was found to be " Bacchi plenus," as Dr. Pangloss says, and unfit to appear. The money was returned, with the best apology that could be made ; but nevertheless, on the following morning, a detailed account of the lecture appeared in a well-circulated paper, which must have considerably astonished any of its readers who had formed a portion of the disappointed assembly. When newspapers are thus committed, through the carelessness of their subordinates, if the mistake inclines to the side of panegyric, it may be passed over with a smile, although injurious to the credit of the journal in question, and tending to lower the character of criticism in general; but when an opposite course is adopted, when certain individuals are selected for specific censure, and slashed right and left with a 46 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES mortal tomahawk, the matter becomes too serious for pleasantry, and gives rise to painful reflections. As a general rule, criticism which inclines to extreme censure rather than to praise, attracts by far the greater share of attention. There is more nerve and more excitement in vituperation than in eulogy. Few like to confess the fact, but there is a latent pleasure in seeing a hole picked in yom- neighbom-'s coat, especially if you have any suspicion that the said neighbour sets up for a better or a wiser man than yourself. No one brooks assumed superiority with complaisance, and it is meat and drink to find our betters assailed with ourselves. A tale of scandal is propagated much more quickly than a deed of benevolence. Unpleasant tidings travel fast, and an ill-natured article in a newspaper or magazine is sure to be communicated by some anxious friend whose optics are less on the alert to discover a panegyric. Writers write with a view to being read, consequently they study the prevailing taste, while the actual merits of the subject under discussion may chance to be a secondary point in their consideration ; as in selection for public office, fitness or capability are usually the last recom- mendations which influence the bestowing patron. Amongst other peculiar featiu-es of dramatic criticism, may be remarked a vice of recent growth, — the affi^cta- tion of interlarding foreign words and idioms to such an extent that the whole composition becomes an ill- assorted hybrid, neither French nor English, but an unnatural jumble of both, in the midst of which the honest vernacular loses all sense of identity, and wonders at its own transformation, and how it has got mixed up in such a fantastical masquerade. Acting a part is now called interpreting a role / songs are not sung, but rendered ; a play is no longer simply got up, but mounted; the dresses and decorations are mystified OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 47 into the mise en scene, and the whole affiiir is called the ensemble. But these are transparent obscurities com- pared with the uh'osT/ncratu's, (Esthetics, syncretics, synthetics, architectonics, esoterics, idealisms, transcen- dentalisms, and a legion of other incomprehensible moder-nisms, which, as Junius says of Sir William Draper's figures of speech, " dance through " some of these articles " in all the mazes of metaphorical con- fusion." A recent author talks of an oisthetical tea, at which he assisted in Dresden, We have heard of a dancing and dining tea in London {The dansante, or dinante), and either of these has a strange sound ; but an jesthetical tea is quite appalling. These hard com- pounds, so frequently and unmercifully dragged in, remind us of the poet's lines, — " The words themselves are neither rich nor rare, The wonder 's how the devU they got there." The abuse complained of is not confined to dramatic critics, but is, we are sorry to observe, gaining gi-ound with writers in general ; — a sad act of injustice to the native, vigorous Saxon, which is thus pushed from its legitimate position to make way for imported intruders with very inferior pretensions. At the present rate, we shall soon cease to have a national tongue. English will disappear into French, and our standard authors of fifty years' antiquity will require the help of a glossary, and be classed, with Greek and Latin, amongst the dead languages. There seems to have been always a conventional style exclusively appropriated to criticism. Sterne, more than eighty years ago, gives an amusing imitation of the mode in his day, winding up thus : — " Grant me patience! Of all the cants which are canted in this canting world, though the cant of hypocrisy may be the worst, the cant of criticism is the most tormenting." 48 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Excellent rules are laid down by approved authorities for acquiring this difficult art. Those who wish to study it soundly cannot do better than apply themselves to Pope's Essay, or to a very elaborate treatise by Dryden, called the " Grounds of Criticism in Tragedy," prefixed to his alteration of Shakespeare's " Troilus and Cressida," and to be found in the collected edition of his works. There is no occasion to travel back to Aris- totle or Quintilian. Others, who may desire to be ingeniously wrong, or simply scurrilous, will find tolerable guides in the pages of Rymer, Gildon, or Dennis, and some recent followers of that school. Goldsmith says that, as regards painting, criticism lies in a very small compass ; " all consists in saying the picture would have been better if the painter had taken more pains, and in praising the works of Pietro Perugino." A well-known authority of our own days built his reputation on never committing himself by a decision. He was a patient listener (rare and ines- timable gift!), and when his judgment was appealed to, answered, after much deliberation, and with the solem- nity of a bench of bishops, " There's a great deal to be said on both sides." Menage has proposed an easy general rule. One day the Cardinal de Retz requested that he would oblige him with a few lectures on poetry, "for," said he, " such quantities of verses are brought to me, that I ought at least to appear to be somewhat of a judge." "It would," replied Menage, "be difficult to give yom* eminence many rudiments of criticism without taking up too much of your time ; but I would advise you, as a practice, to look over the first page or two, and then exclaim, ' Sad stuff ! wretched poetaster ! miserable verses ! ' and, ninety-nine times in a hundred, you may be sure you are right." OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 49 Edmund Kean was a great favourite with ]\Irs. Gar- rick, the widow of his celebrated predecessor. It was usual -^^dth the Drury Lane committee, when they wanted a new-comer to make a hit, to bring the venerable old lady out to her private box, and then to prompt her to say that he reminded her of David. She said so, and the saying- went the round of the papers accordingly. In the case of Kean she spoke honestly. He did remind her of her husband, and was nearer to him by many degrees than any actor she had seen since his death, although both agreed that he could not play Abel Drugger.'^ Mrs. Garrick frequently visited at Kean's house, in Clarges Street; and one day, making a morning call, she found the tragedian in the drawing-room in a state of unusual excitement. He received his guest rather abruptly, and retired. The old lady's eyes followed him with some astonishment, and turning to Mrs. Kean she said, in her broken English, " What is the matter with your husband? he seems disturbed." "Oh," re- plied Mrs. Kean, " you mustn't mind him ; he has just read a spiteful notice of his Othello in one of the news- papers, which has terribly vexed him." " But why should he mind that?" said Mrs. Garrick; "he is above the papers, and can afford to be abused." " Yes," observed Mrs. Kean ; " but he says the article is so well written: but for that, he wouldn't care for the abuse." " Then, my dear Mrs. Kean, he should do as David did, and he would be spared this annoyance." " What's that?" exclaimed the anxious wife, with in- Kean essayed Alel Drugger for liis first lienefit on the 24th of May, 1814, which di-ew the following laconic note from Mrs. Garrick :— Dear Sir,— You cannot play Alel J)rugc/er.—Y oms, Eva Garrick.'' He replied :— " Dear jMadam,— I know it.— Youi-s, Edmund Kean." But he balanced this inferiority by discovering that David was imable to sing, while he warbled melodiously. VOL. I. E 50 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES tense eagerness. " Write tlie articles himself : David always did so." Assuredly David was a good general, and never exercised his tactics with more skill than in adopting this sound conservative practice.* Those were really the "palmy days of the drama," when journals paid for the advertisements, and shopkeepers for exhibiting the biUs. These are well-authenticated facts. In An- drews' " History of British Jom-nalism," published by Bentley, 1858, we find the following paragraph (vol. i. p 192) with reference to the PuUic Advertiser and the expenses of that paper for one year, as copied from the ledger of Henry Woodfall :— - The theatres are a great expense to the papers. Amongst the items of payment are-playhouses lOOZ. ; Drury Lane advertisements, 64?. 85. 6c?. ; Covent Gar- den, ditto, 66?. 11.. The papers paid 200?. a-year to each theatre for the accounts of new plays, and would reward the messenger with a shilling or half-a-crown who brought them the first copy of a play-bill. _ More than once, in conversation with the writer ot these volumes, Edmund Kean, when he had been vexed by recent criticisms, complained that the newspapers made sad mistakes as to his conceptions of character, readings, points, and other peculiarities of acting. " These people," said he, " don't understand then- business. They give me credit where I make no effort to deserve praise, and pass over passages on which I have bestowed the utmost care and atten- tion.! They think because my style is new, and * Garrick was a shareliolder in the Public Advertiser. It must be rememWrhat the newspapers hi his thne were few m nrnnber, while ^fT^t ^SiS^S;earse sc^e hy scene to his wife^ 1. repeat a speech twenty times, until both were satisfied that he had hit the true vem. OF CHARLES KEAN. F.S.A n * OX appears natural, that I never study; and talk about t he sudden impulse of genius. With genuine artist here is no such thing as impulsive acting ; all is arranged beforehand; else, why should we rehearse? AYe m.v act better or worse on a particular night, from particular cn-cumstances, but the conception is the same. 1 have done all these things a thousand times in country theatres, and perhaps better, before I was recognised as a great actor, and have been loudly applauded; but the sound m those days never reached as far as London. In 1807 a small volume was published by Leio-h Hunt, entitled ^'Critical Essays on the Performers of the London Theatres," being a rifacchnento or enlarged edition of a course of tlieatrical articles which originallv appeared m a weekly paper called Tlie News, llany of these are ably written, and the work may be referred to as a fair specimen of this class of composition. Hazlitt's notices, supplied when he was connected with more than one paper, have also re-appeared in a separate volume, which has gone through several editions, under the title of ' A \iew of the English Stage," and have acquired a standard reputation ; but they are inferior to Hunt's, both m judgment and impartiality. They abound m smart severities, and epigi-ammatic ad captandum tui-ns; yet the book is valuable as a stage record, as J^'^ri^^'.'r.^''^^''^' of the first appearances of Miss Oj^eill, Miss Foote, Miss Stephens, Kean, and Mac- ready; and also of the last performances of Mrs. Sid- dons, John Kemble, and John Bannister. In Hazlitt's pages will be found a much greater amount of prejudice than candour, and infinitely more gall than honey. He ^^ undervalues Miss 0\\eill, billingsgates Conway, abso- ., lutely Lbels Young, and deifies the two or three fortu- nate exceptions who find favour in his eyes. A few e2 52 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES extracts will corroborate this statement more convinc- ingly than a simple assertion : — " The best thing we remember in Coleridge's tragedy of ' Kemorse,' and which gave the greatest satisfaction to the audience, was that part in which Mr. D was precipitated into a deep pit, from which, by the elabo- rate description bestowed on it by the poet, it was plainly ' impossible he should ever rise again/ If Mr. W is to be puffed up, and stuck at the head of his profession at this unmerciful rate, it would almost in- duce us to wish Mr. Coleridge would write another tragedy, to dispose of him in the same way as his pre- decessor." Speaking of one of the most elegant and classical actors of the day, recognised by the public as such, he says : — "Mr. Young ought never to condescend to play comedy, nor aspire to play tragedy. Sentimental panto- mime is his^^rfe." " Mr. Young is brought forward as a downright common madman, just broken loose from a mad-house at Richmond, and is going to dash out the brains of his daughter and her infant with a club. The infant is no other than a large wooden doll. It fell on the floor the other evening without receiving any hurt, at which the audience laughed." " As to Mr. Young's lago, we never saw a gentleman acted finer." "Mr. Yomig's Prospero was good for nothing, and consequently was indescribably bad. Mr. Emery had nothing of Caliban but his gaberdine, which did not become him." " Mr. C. Kemble seemed to be rehearsing Don Felix with an eye to Macduff, or some face-making character." OF CHAKLES KEAN, F.S.A. 53 " Mr. Incledon both speaks and sings as if he had a lozenge or a slice of marmalade in his mouth. If he would go to America, and leave his voice behind him, it would be a great benefit — to the parent country." " Mrs. Dickens never appeared to us anything but an ordinary musical instrument, and at present she is very much out of tune." " Mr. Jones acts as if he was moved by wires. He is a very lively automaton." *' Mr. Jones is no favourite of ours. He is always the same Mr. Jones, who shows his teeth, and rolls his eyes, and looks like ' a jackdaw just caught in a snare.' " " Mr. Terry, as Sir- Oliver Surface, wore a great coat with yellow buttons ; Mr. Farley, in 7r?}j), had a large bouquet ; and why should we refuse to do justice to Mr. Claremont, who was dressed in black?" " Mr. Conway topped the part of Comus with his usual felicity, and seemed almost as if the genius of a may- pole had inspired a human form. He is said to make a very handsome Comus ; so he would make a very hand- some Caliban, and the common sense of the transforma- tion would be the same." " Of Mr. Conway's Romeo we cannot speak with patience. He bestrides the stage like a Colossus, throws his arms into the air like the sails of a windmill, and his motion is as unwieldy as that of a young elephant. Query : Why does he not marry?" Now all these flippant, sarcastic nothings are very easily written, very well calculated to lacerate sensitive feelings, and admirably disposed to amuse a breakfast table, or to elicit exclamations of "How good!" "Capital!" "Deuced keen!" &c. ; but we ask any unprejudiced reader, are they criticism ? Perhaps the best sentence in Hazlitt's book is this : — 54 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES "■ Mr. Kemble lias been compared lately (in the Times) to the ruins of a magnificent temple, in which the di- vinity still resides. This is not the case. The temple is unimpaired, but the divinity is sometimes from home." One of the most apt remarks, in this line of notice, that we recollect, was made by a critic in a London paper (not Hazlitt) on a new Richard the Third, who was too good to be hissed and not good enough to be ap- plauded. The writer said, " We never until now thoroughly understood honest Dogberry's meaning when he uses the phrase, ' most tolerable, and not to be endured.' " All public characters, in every grade of life, are lawfully open to public animadversion, from the sovereign on the throne and the prime minister, down to the lowest sub- ordinate on the stage, who says " The coach is at the door," or " The dinner is served." " 'Tis the rough brake that virtue must go through," and should be endured by gi-eat and small with becoming philosophy. Any thin- skinned patient who writhes under this discipline should get rid as soon as possible, and how he may, of the outer cuticle with which his natural construction has in- vested him, and encase himself in the hide of a rhino- ceros. It is certainly not pleasant to think that the professional reputation which it has taken a quarter of a century to establish may be damaged, if not " snuffed out by an article," and possibly an incompetent or pre- judiced one, written hastily, in a quarter of an hour. But the sufferer must console himself by reflecting that mighty names have, ere now, been extinguished by trifling agencies. King Pyrrhus, who shook Rome to her centre, was slain by an old woman who threw a tile on his head from a garret window ; Abyssinian Bruce fell down-stairs while hastening to hand an aged lady OP CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 55 into her carriage, pitched on his head, and never spoke again ; Lord Anson, who sailed round the world, cauo-ht his death hy tumbling into a brook ; and the great Duke of Marlborough died of sixpence.* * He walked home from the Rooms at Bath, on a rainy night, ratlier than pay sixpence for a chair, got wet, and thus laid the foimdation of the disease wliich killed him. To make the story more characteristic, it was said that he borrowed the sixpence from Lord Chesterfield, and never repaid it. 56 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES CHAPTER III. THE NAME OP KEAN IN ASSOCIATION WITH THE DRAMA —REPUTED GENE- ALOGY OF EDMOND KEAN — POSITION OF THE FAMILY DURING THE IN- FANCY OF CHARLES KEAN — FIRST ENGAGEMENT OF EDMUND KEAN IN LONDON— HIS DEB^T IN SHYLOCK AT DRURY LANE — TRIUMPHANT SUC- CESS—GREAT INFLUENCE OF THE NEWSPAPERS — MR. WHITBREAD's SPEECH ON THE CLOSE OF THE SEASON. Sir Philip Sidney Avas wont to say that the old baUad of "Chevy Chase" had that in it which stirred the soul like the effect of a trumpet. So has the name of Kean a thrilling- sound in association with the annals of the stage. The brilliant career of Edmund Kean, the father, dazzling and eccentric as that of a comet, with its melancholy close, are still vivid in the remembrance of his contemporaries, and by them as vividly conveyed to the present generation. Two years after his decease (in 1835), memoirs of his life, in two volumes, were pub- lished by Moxon, without the author's name, but gene^ rally reputed to be from the pen of Barry Cornwall. The materials with which he was supplied were au- thentic ; the facts are correctly stated, and may be fully depended on. The book is agreeably written, and con- pression that, as a whole, it is meagre and hurried, especially towards the close. It has more the appear- ance of being undertaken as an imposed task, than as a voluntary labour of love. The general tone is little calculated to elevate the profession of which it treats, or to raise the genius of the individual subject above the OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 57 failings by which that rare endowment was clouded and prematurely destroyed. History and biography require truth ; but truth does not, of necessity, demand that the defective features of any given portrait should be thrust witli undue prominence into the foreground. Fi-ailties and weakness ought not to be entirely blotted out from a genuine record ; neither should they be coloured up into ludicrous exaggeration. The point of difhculty lies in the discrimination with which such delicate matters are handled. Shakespeare says, with amiable and just philosophy, " The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together ; our virtues would be proud, if our faults whipped them not ; and our crimes would despair, if they were not cherished by our virtues."'^ It is a common theory that, in sketching the lives of public characters, we have no right to allude to their private transactions ; that the veil by which the latter are hidden should never be withdrawn. False premises, and unsound conclusion. How can we pro- nounce on the true merit of a medal, unless we examine the reverse side as well as the face? Lord Lyttleton, in his history of Henry II., suppressed all mention of certain traditionary incidents in the conduct of Queen Elinor, and some of the fair ornaments of her court. This omission being charged against him, he replied, with courtly gallantry, " I cannot lend myself to tlie perpetuation of scandal against ladies of high rank so long deceased." Oliver Cromwell, with a total absence of personal vanity, desired his painters on no account to omit the unsightly warts by which his physiognomy was defaced. If a remarkable blemish is either passed over entirely, or distorted, the identity of the picture is lost, and its reflected value, either as an example or a warning, sinks into insignificance. * " AU's Well that Ends Well," Act IV. Sc. iu. 58 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Charles Kean, inlieriting the genius and success of his father, but avoiding the fatal improvidence by which both were rendered unavailing, has, while jet within the meridian of life, placed himself at the head of a difficult profession, for which he was not trained or intended; realized a competent independence by his own exertions ; established a new epoch in the history of dramatic art, and won an honourable estimation in the eyes of all who are acquainted with him. It is not given to many to achieve such multiplied advantages ; nor have they been gained in the present instance without trial, persevering- effort, disappointment, and vicissitude. Scenes of exciting interest have been passed through, and many difficulties met and surmounted. The history of a career so active and varied, can scarcely fail to amuse the careless, and instruct tlie reflecting reader. Charles Kean is an Irishman, and a native of Water- ford ; the ta-hs intacta, as it is proudly designated in Hibernian annals. The same place had previously given birth to Dorothea Jordan, and Tp-one Power was born in the county. Edmund Kean, at the time of Charles's birth, formed one of the company attached to the theatre in the above-named city. Of his own parent- age and ancestry little is known, and that little is in- volved in much uncertainty. He was not clearly informed on the subject himself, and gave contradictory accounts whenever it was introduced. A modern historian, of high rej)ute, claims for him a noble, though a left-handed, descent from George Savile, Marquis of Halifax, one of the most honest and least trimming statesmen who lived and flourished in the trimming times of Charles II., James, and William. In the third volume of Macaulay (page 543), the following passage occurs : — '' It is, per- haps, not generally known that some adventurers, who, without advantages of fortune or position, made them- OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 59 selves conspicuous by the mere force of ability, inlievited the blood of Halifax. He left a natural son, Henry Carey, whose dramas once drew crowded audiences to the theatres, and some of whose gay and spirited verses still live in the memory of hundreds of thousands.* From Henry Carey descended that Edmund Kean, who, in our own time, transformed himself so marvellously into Shyloch, lago, and Otlielloy This Henry Carey left a son, George Savile Carey, whose daughter, Ann Carey, was the reputed mother of the great tragedian, although he sometimes doubted and questioned the claim, while he supported and allowed her an annuity. It has also been said that Miss Tidswell was his mother, and the Duke of Norfolk, who succeeded to the title in 1786, his father. Being once directly asked the question by the Hon. Douglas Kinnaird, one of the Drury Lane committee, his Grace replied, good- hum ouredly, " I am not aware of the fact ; but I should be very proud of a son possessed of such talent.^' Ovid, writing eighteen hundred years ago, says : — " Nam genus et proavos et quae non fecimus ipsi, Vix ea nostra voco." Birth and ancestry, and what we have not ourselves achieved, we can scarcely call our own. The sentiment contains a just rebuke to empty pride, unsustained by inborn worth ; but as good blood manifests itself in the higher animals, so is it something in man, and not to be under-rated, if, as it ought and often does, it acts as an incentive to virtue, and as a rampart in support of in- tegrity. Nevertheless, everything must have a begin- * Hemy Carey, who died by his own hand in 1743, is supposed hy many to have been the author and composer of the words and nielon, appearing in a few charac-ters of second-rate import- ance, and then departed to push his fortunes elsewhere. The time had not yet arrived when a Falstafl" without stuffing could be announced as an attraction. Henderson was still aUve, and until he made a vacancy, the meny knight and he had become identified as Siamese twins. OF CHARLES KEAX, F.S.A. 101 parts in which Miss O'Xeill approached the nearest to her illustrious predecessor. Kemble's foi*tune received much injury from the burn- ing of Covent Garden Theatre, and he died less wealthv than might have been expected. His habits, with the exception of a passion for buying scarce old books, were not expensive. His library, which contained manv valuable editions, was sold by auction, with the excep- tion of the theatrical portion, purchased entire by the Duke of Devonshire, and now at Chatsworth. He was universally reputed an accomplished scholar ; but his pronunciation of many words was too arbiti-ary, singular, and pedantic, to justify a claim to sound erudition. For these eccentricities, he could neither adduce classical nor etymological authority, nor even the sovereign rule of custom, " Quern penes arbitrium est, et ^-is, et norma loquendi" Colman evidently had Kemble in his eye when he described Sir Edward Mortimer : — " Edward is aE deep reading and black-letter ; He shows it in his very chin. He speaks IMere dictionary, and he pores on pages That give plain sense the headache. ' Scarce and curious " Are baits his learning nibbles at ; his brain Is cramm'd with mouldy volumes, cramp and useless. Like a librarian's lumber-room." The picture is overcharged as such pictures generally are. Charles Kemble, in conversation with the writer of these pages, has more than once said that his brother delighted in collecting, exhibiting, and arranging his rare copies, but that he read them less than people sup- posed. In Boaden's life of ^Mrs. Jordan (vol. ii. pp. 144-5,) we find a curious passage which bears directly on this subject — Boaden, it must be observed, though a weak biographer, was a devoted worshipper of his idols : — 102 THE LIFE AXD THEATRICAL TIMES ''Kemble.'" lie says. •' had long enjoyed the reputation of being a scholar, and of being pedantic in scholarship; he was accused of plaving the commentator, where it was of little moment, and of liWng upon points and pauses. It is astonishing what hatred was worked up against him ; and amongst other absurdities, those who disliked him, gifted him with black-letter tendencies, which most certainly he never had, though some friend on such a presumption, gave him a MS. of Chaucer's •• Canterbury Tales," which it was supposed had been the favourite volume of his own Hotspur, and which he read with difficulty I know, and I am confident never read throughout. The old plays of his country he collected, because Mr. Garrick had done so before him ; and be- sides that, he thought there should be in some library at hand, every play that could by possibility be used ; that if any impositions were practised, their source might be pointed out. K there was some ostentation in all this, it is surely a natural foible in any actor to possess the materials of his art. His plays cost him many thousand pounds, and were uniformly bound together in several hundred volumes of the quarto shape. We may be sure, as to Shakespeare, the god of his idolatry, he had everything that could be got for money." Poor ^at. Lee, who was himself as insane a Bedlam- ite as ever raved in poetry, has said, — " Sxirely there is a pleasure in being mad, TNTiich none but madmen know." The frenzy of book-collecting has also a peculiar charm intelligible only to the collector. Of all the pas- sions to which the human mind can surrender itself, there is none more absorbing than the " Bibliomania," Let those speak honestly who have indulged in it. It is a species of bulimia — an insatiable appetite, which OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 103 grows by what it feeds on. The writer has purchased his experience in this matter rather dearly, having at one period of his life occupied much time, and laid out more money than he likes to think of, in collecting a library. Books formed his chief solace and amusement during many years of an active life. Circumstances induced him to part with them, and taught the owner practically the vast distinction between buying and selling. It was something to see placarded in imposing type, " Catalogue of the valuable and select library of a gentleman, containing many rare and curious editions."' But, alas ! the sum produced was scarcely a third of the intrinsic value, and less than half of the original cost. There have been instances — but they are " few and far between " — when libraries have been sold at a premium. Take, for an example, the collection of Dr. Farmer, of Emanuel College, Cambridge, — he who wrote so learn- edly of Shakespeare's want of learning ; and whose "unanswerable" Essay has been repeatedly answered and refuted. This library, singularly rich in Shake- spearean authorities, and black-letter lore, produced above 2,200Z., and was supposed to have cost the author not more than 500?. Many works are presents : when you get the character of a collector, a stray gift often drops in, and scarce volumes find their way to your shelves, which the quondam owners, uninitiated in the bibliomania, know not the worth of. An excellent and perfect copy of the quarto " Hamlet," of 1611, was not long since purchased from an innocent bibliopolist for five shillings. The conscience of the buyer smote him, but the tempta- tion was irresistible. This small, dingy volume, origin- ally publislied at sixpence, has sold for 12/. The best copy in existence of the Caxtonian edition of Gower's " De Confessione Amantis," fol. 1483, one of the rarest amongst printed books, was purchased by a Dublin 104 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES bookseller, at Cork (in 1832), with a lot of old rubbish, for a mere trifle, and was sold afterwards for more than 300^. It is now in the celebrated Spencer Library, at Althorp. Books in all ages have brought fabulous prices. St. Jerome says, he ruined himself by buying a copy of the works of Origen. A large estate was given for a Treatise on Cosmography, by King Alfred, in 872. Two hundred sheep, and five quarters of wheat, have been exchanged for a single Homily, in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. In our own times, an Illustra- ted copy of Macklin's Bible has produced five hundred guineas. A yet more superb copy is actually insured in a London office at 3,000L The '• Decameron," of 1471, was bought at the Duke of Roxburgh's sale in 1812, by the Duke of Jilarlborough, for 2,260^. What time does book-collecting occupy! What anxiety it excites ! What money it requires ! What evil passions it sets in motion ! It makes man exclu- sively selfish, and withers up Christian charity. As Burns says, of another, and more unholy indulgence — " It hardens a' witliiu. And petrifies the feehng." Under the influence of this insanity, we live in a per- petual breach of the tenth commandment, coveting our neighbours' goods, and anticipating the hour of his departure, when we may compete for his " Valdarfer Boccaccio," his unique "Game and Play of the Chesse," printed by Caxton in 1474, or his first folio Shakespeare, with genuine title-page and portrait. The great use of books is to read them. The mere accumulation is an empty fantasy. Your thorough- bred collector seldom reads anything but catalogues, after the mania has fully possessed him, or such biblio- OF CHAELES KEAX, F.S.A. 105 graphical works as facilitate his purchases. Antonio Magliabechi is an exception, and cannot be quoted as a type of the species. If you are too poor to buy, and desire to read, there are public collections in abundance to which access may be obtained. There is a circu- lating library in every village, and there are plenty of private ones undisturbed by their owners. Subscribe or borrow; don t steal/ — a common practice enough, and not without authority.* If your friends are churlish, and hesitate to lend ; if your pockets are empty, and you have no cash even to subscribe, still you can think — you may try to remember what you have read, and live on your recollections of past enjoyment, as the Wife of Bath does in old Chaucer's tale. You'll save your eyes too, and, when you get on the shady side of life, you will find that point worthy of attention. After all, what do we collect for ? At most, a few years' doubtful possession of what we can very well do without. When iSir Walter Raleigh was on his way to execution, he asked for a cup of ale, and observed, as he quaffed it, '' That is good drink, if a man could only stay by it." So are rare and curious libraries good things, if we could stay by them ; but we cannot. When the time comes, we must go, and then our books, and pictures, and prints, and furniture, and china, go too ; and are knocked down by the smirking callous auc- tioneer, with as little remorse as a butciier knocks a bullock on the head, or a poulterer wrings round the neck of a pullet, or a surgeon excises your arm out of the socket, chuckling at his own skill, Avhilst you are writhing in unspeakable agony. Reader, once more, don't collect books, and envy not the possessors of costly libraries. Read and recollect, * '•■ This borrow, steal,— don't buy." Vide " Childe Harold's Pilgrimage." 106 THE LIFE AND THE.^TRICAL TIMES how and when vou can. Of course von have a Bible and Prayer-lvx-k. Add to these the -Pilgrim's Pro- gress." Shakespeare. Milton, Pope. Byron (if yon like', a History oi England. Greece, and Rome, Boswell's •• Life of Johnson." and Xapier's '• Peninsular War."' A m«?derate sum will give you these : and you possess a cabinet encyclopjedia of religious, moral, historical, miscellaneous, and entertaining knowledge, containing more than you want for practical ptirposes. and quite as much as your brains can easily carry. Never mind the old classics. They may abound in wisdom and philo- sophy, but they are iotolerably slow. Leave them to col- lege libraries, where they look respectable, and enjoy long slumbers. The monthly periodicals and leading papers will place you much more au courant with the conversa- tion and popular acqtiirements of the day. Should you happen to be in business of any kind, add, if you can, to the books we have named, a Ledger, with a good soimd balance on the right side, and you will be a happier and perhaps a better read man. than though you were un- controlled master of the Bodleian, the Imperial Library of France and the innumerable tomes of the Vatican into the bargain. Don't collect books, I tell you again emphatically. Collect wisdom ; collect experience : above all, collect money; not as our friend Horace recommends. '• ^mo autque modo.^^ but by honest hard-working industry alone. And, when you have done this, remember who gave you the advice, and be grateful. What is said here applies to private collecting only. Far be it from the writer to discotirage great public libraries, which, under proper arrangements, are great national benefits, useful to society, and invaluable to literature. But, as they are regulated at present, fenced rotmd with so manv restrictions, and accessible chieflv OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 107 to privileged dignitaries, or well-paid officials who seldom trouble them, they are little better than close boroughs with a very narrow constituency. Let it be remembered, however, on the other side, that the public misuse their indulgences, and are little to be trusted. Not one in twenty either knows or cares how to handle a book, not his own property, with becoming delicacy. It is easier to nurse a child. But we have galloped away into a long and unpardonable digression, from which we must dismount, and resume our subject, Kembles widow, who was much younger than him- self, and by whom he had no children, survived him for many years.* Like Garrick. he married for happiness rather than ambition, and made a most fortunate choice. Many stories have been told of the immediate cause and manner of his courtship ; how he received a large sum from a noble lord whose daughter had fallen in love with him, on condition that he married within a given time ; how he proposed to Airs. Brereton, gi>'ing her a fortnight to deliberate ; and how she considered that delays might be dangerous, and accepted him at once. Some of these, including his alleged absence of mind as to the important change of condition on his wedding- day, are humorous exaggerations, and others have been repeated ad Jiauseam. It would be impossible to conceive anything finer than Kemble's appearance in the Roman costume, as introduced by himself. TVhen he revived " Coriolanus" and '• Julius Csesar " at Covent Garden, his togas, then for the first time exhibited on the English stage, became the theme of universal admirarion. They were pro- nounced faultless, minutely classical, even to the long- disputed latus clavus, severely correct, and beautifolly * She had heei previoasly married to Bratton, an actor in the Drary Lane cc-mpany, who died insane, in 1TS7. 108 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TTOES graceful be3'ond precedent. But when the peace brought France and England together, and the treasures of the Louvre presented all the authorities under one glance which had been so long shut out from British eyes, it was found that Talma's senatorial robes were much nearer the truth. Whereupon they were, in due course, transplanted to the London boards, and the Kemble garments were deposed. Charles Young, the affectionate disciple of Kemble, was the first who adopted the new mode, which he studied under the restorer ; and Charles Kemble himself, when attiring for Marc Ajitony, was wont to repair to Young's dressing-room before pre- senting himself on the stage, to be inspected, and assured that the folds of his toga were perfectly arranged according to the Talma model. Kemble obtained great credit with the audiences of the day for his Shakespearean revivals ; yet they cannot stand comparison for a moment, either in accuracy of text, costume, architectural details, or mechanical appli- ances, with the magnificent series we have all witnessed during Mr. Charles Kean's period of management at the Princess's Theatre. Of this, we shall speak more at large in the proper place. Half a century ago, the public were not ripe for the knowledge which they now imperatively demand, and the instructor himself was unoculus inter ccecos — the one-eyed teaching the blind. With all our traditional admiration of Garrick as an actor, we cannot close our eyes to the fact that he committed heavy sins against Shakespeare in the exercise of his managerial power, and the indulgence of his literary ambition. He never could forego the temptation of a clap-trap, and sacrificed consistency to what he considered eifect without scruple or remorse. He literally pandered to, instead of attempting to amend or exalt, the vitiated tendencies of the million ; his OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 109 " alterations," as he called them, were singularly auda- cious ; and not less so was his prologue to one of the most objectionable (the "Winter's Tale"), which he winds up by saying, — " 'Tis my chief wish, my joy, my only plan, To lose no drop of that immortal man." And with these jingling lines, he introduces a noble drama, unmercifully cut down from five acts to three, and in which dull platitudes are substituted for the original inspiration. There was justice in the severity with which Theophilus Gibber reflected on Garrick in a dissertation delivered at the Haymarket in 1756. He says, " AVere Shakespeare's ghost to rise, would he not pour indignation on this mender of poetry which wants no repairs, who thus mangles, mutilates, and transforms his plays? The 'Midsummer Night's Dream' has been minced and fricasseed into a thing called the ' Fairies/ the ' Winter's Tale ' mammocked into a droll, and the * Tempest ' changed into an opera. Yet this sly prince would insinuate that all this ill-usage of the bard is owing, forsooth, to his love of him ; much such a proof of tender regard as the cobbler's drubbing his wife." Strange liberties were indulged in in those days, Avliich the superiority of modern taste utterly repudiates. John Kemble was a better scholar than Garrick ; yet he sanctioned Dryden and Davenant's monstrous interpolations in the " Tempest," calling them Shakespeare's, transplanting the storm to the second act, and removing Frosperos celebrated speech of " the cloud-capp'd towers " from its natural position to the end, for the sake of an effective tag. He also per- petuated Tate's mawkish absurdities in " King Lear," with the loves of Edgar and Cordelia, and the unhappy substitution of a happy catastrophe. He retained 110 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Garrick's weak additions to the " Winter's Tale " and " Cjmbeline," his reduction of the " Taming of a Shrew" into a farce, together with Thompson's or Sheridan's last act of " Coriolanus," It is really a matter of wonder, how a man of reputed classical mind and experienced judgment, could lend himself to such crying mistakes. Dr. Johnson observes with truth, " There is not, perhaps, any play of Shake- speare which could be represented on a modern stage as originally written." But, fortunately, his plays are very long ; and after the omission of all exceptionable passages, more than sufficient materials remain for five acts. The real friends of the immortal poet are no advo- cates for his faults, for even his transcendent genius has its blemishes. They are only desirous of seeing him represented with no changes but such as are absolutely necessary, and feel naturally indignant when influential followers, like Garrick and Kemble, who have given their sanction to the crudities of Tate, Gibber, and Co., are yet so inconsistent as to talk of their veneration for the great original. If Shakespeare encountered John Kemble in the Elysian Fields, unless he held aloof indignantly, as the ghost of Ajax did from the still living Ulysses, he might perhaps say to him, " I thank you heartily for your performance of my Coriolanus, Hamlet, Brutus, Macbeth, &c. — but did you never hear the good old proverb, ' Let every one stick to his trade ?' Why would you tamper with the text of my plays ? Why give many of my characters names which never entered my imagination ? Above all, what could induce you to restore such passages of Tate, as even Garrick had rejected when he revived ' King Lear ' ? Saint Lawrence never suffered more torture on his gridiron than I have endured from the prompt-book." OF CHAPwLES KEAN, F.S.A. HI CHAPTER VII. KEMBLE S PHYSICAL DEFICIENCIES— THE COMPARATIVE VALUE OF VOICE AND EYE TO AN ACTOR TALMa's ELOCUTION — MISTAKES IN COSTUME KEMBLE's PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS HIS NOTION THAT NATURE IN- TENDED HIM FOR A COMEDIAN HIS OWN ANECDOTE OF HIS PLAYING CHARLES SURFACE — ERUDITION OF PROMISCUOUS AUDIENCES — FIRST APPEARANCE OF WILLIAM FARREN- — RETIREMENT OF IRISH JOHNSTONE COMPARISON BETWEEN JOHNSTONE AND POWER MORBID TEMPERA- MENT OF COMIC ACTORS — THREATENED REVIVAL OF THE ROSCIOMANIA — MISS CLARA FISHER YOUNG BETTY THE ROSCIUS — MISS. MUDIE — A LEGION OF ROSCII AND ROSCI^ INSTANCES OF PRECOCIOUS TALENT. Kemble laboured under a constitutional asthma, which obliged him to husband his powers, and restrained him from daringly carrying out his own conceptions. He was ever apprehensive that his voice might fail him in an arduous part, and this sometimes imparted an appearance of languor and monotony to his best efforts. He was often compelled to check himself in the fullest tide of passion, from dread of a physical break-down. Churchill, in his encomium on Garrick, in the "Rosciad," dwells emphatically upon the advantages of the — " Strong expression and strange powers which he Witliin the magic circle of the eye ;" and in this criticism he is right. But even the wonders of the eye will lose much of their charm if not supported by the still more imposing organ of the voice. Of all the personal faculties which a great actor requires, the voice is that which above all others will, according to its strength or weakness^ help or impede 112 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES the execution of liis conceptive genius. Where nature has bestowed the power, intonation will obey, with mechanical submission, the compulsive dictate of feel- ing. Edmund Kean's voice was melodious in the lower notes, but defective in the higher, under the exercise of violent emotion. Young and Macready were magnificently gifted in this respect ; but Talma excelled them all ; his intonation was wonderful ; and his voice possessed a compass and a musical cadence which fell upon the ear with the effect of many well- tuned instruments blended together— a diapason more perfect than human mechanism has ever yet invented to improve and regulate sound. Dugazon, an actor of eminence on the French stage, under Louis XVI., held a theory peculiar to himself. He used to maintain that the nose was the most complete organ of expression, and wrote an essay, with diagrams, to show that there were forty distinct modes of moving this single feature with variety of effect. Kemble paid great attention to the minutiae of the stage, as they were understood in his day, and intro- duced many alterations of costume ; but sometimes he fell into strange mistakes, and was so dogmatic, that he refused to rectify them on evidence. In Hamlet he wore an elephant suspended by a blue ribbon from his neck, and a modern star on his cloak, like that belong- ing to an English order of knighthood. Guthrie tells us, in his "Universal History," that the Order of the Elephant was instituted by Christiern L, of Den- mark ; but Christiern I. began to reign in 1448, whereas, Shakespeare has clearly fixed the time of the action of his play several centuries earlier. Besides, if it were proper for Hamlet to have the effeminate appendage of a badge and ribbon, a fortiori the King ought to be decorated after the same fashion. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 113 In the early scenes of PostJmmus in " Cymbeline," Kemble wore a half modern, open tunic, trimmed with spangles, a ruff, tight pantaloons, and boots of russet leather. This strange garb contrasted incongruously with the Roman togas and shirts of JacMmo and PM- lario ; and still more so with his own military panoply, resembling that of Coriolanus or Brutus, in which he arrayed himself for the discovery in the last act. Kemble, when playing Hamlet, always instructed Guildenstern to attempt to exit before him in one of the scenes ; this breach of etiquette he checked by a severe look, and then walked off with much dignity. He did something of the same kind with Cam2)eius, in the second act of " Henry the Eighth ;" and both these aiTangements of what is called " stage-business," were greatly lauded as profound readings of the author. They might have stood for such had there been one syllable in the text to warrant them, but as no such interpreta- tions are there to be found, they must be looked upon as stage trickery, below the practice of a great actor. In Leon he made no scruple of kicking Cacafogo, but Cacafogo was not allowed to give the original provoca- tion, which utterly destroys the gist of the retort. If he had played Stukely, he might equally have objected to being struck by Leicson. When Mrs. Siddons assumed the part of the termagant Lady Loverule, for a beneiit freak, she left out the strapping as the cobbler's wife. If performers of the first class descend, for their own advantage, to what conventional critics call inferior roles, assuredly they ought to discharge them in their " severe integrity," or let them alone altogether. Kemble's best parts may be considered, Coriolanus, Brutus, Cato, Hamlet, King John, Wolsey, Jacques, \Leontes, Macbeth, Hotspur, Leon, Zanga, Octavian, Pen- \ruddock, the Able Be VEpee, the Stranger, Rolla, and VOL. I. I 114 THE LIFE AND THEATKICAl TIMES De Mcmtfort, Not long before his retirement, he was for several days imderlined for Fabtaf. and wore the dress in his room to become accustomed to it. His firiends wisely saved him from what mnst of necessity have proved a pitiable mistake. The actor who could play eighteen such characters as those we have enumerated above, better than any other living representative. might be satisfied with ranking as a rare exception which scarcely occurs once in a century. Universality of genius is given to no one. Gzirrick failed compara- tively in Marphyt and Othello. John Kemble was convivial in his habits, fond of late hours, and given to indulge freely in post-prandial libations when his company pleased him. But he had the systematic prudence never to exceed when there was btisiness in hand. "A man," he wotdd say, " should get drunk occasionally : it gives nature a iillip." He was a humorist, too, after a peculiar £bi3hion : but his jokes and his laugh were somewhat sepulchraL Even when completely under the influence of wine, he never relapsed from his habitual solemnity of manner, and stately mode of speech. When young on the stage, he fencied, under the strange hallucination by which actors are frequently possessed, that he was gifted with the attributes of gay, dashing comedy. Tate Wilkinson tells us that he selected Piume, Dori- eouri, Archer, Ranger, and similar parts, to please him- self and not by the desire of either manager or public A smile on his coimtenance appeared to wonder how it g>:)t there. As John Wilson Croker said in the " Fami- liar Epistles," it resembled the plating on a coffin. He then g;»es on to say — " Toong Mhrabd \sf Kemble pbj'd, IiKK'k'd like Macbeth in masqxierade." OF CHAELES KEJlS, F.S.A. 115 and adds, in a note. -'I have had the misfortune to see this exhibition ; truly it was. as Shakespeare's clowns say of their interlude of " Pyramus and Thisbe,"' ' very traorical mirth. ' " Reynolds tells an amusing anecdote, for which he quotes the authority of Kemble himself. In 1791 the great tragedian chose to act Charles Surface. Some time afterwards Reynolds and Kemble met at a dinner : the flattering host asserted that Charles Surface had been lost to the stage since the days of Smith, and added, that Kemble's performance of the part should be considered as Charles's Bestoration. On this a less complimentary guest observed, in an under tone, that it should rather be considered as Cttarles's Martyrdom. Kemble overheard the remark, and said, with much good humour, " I will tell you a story about this, which proves that you are right. Some few months ago, having unfortunately taken what is usually called a glass too much. I inadvertently quarrelled with a gentle- man in the street. On the next morning, when I came to my senses. I felt that I was in the wrong, and offered to make him any reasonable reparation. ' Sir,' inter- rupted the gentleman, • at once I meet your proposal, ffi and name one — promise me never to play Charles Sur- face again, and I shall be perfectly satisfied.' I gave :he promise, and have kept it : for though 3ilr. Sheridan was pleased to say he Uked me in the part, I certainly do not Kke mysel£" Kemble, when he told this story, had seen his error, and put the best face he could on it ; but certain it is that when he first acted Charles, he was very desirous of having his performance lauded in the papers. Mrs. Wells has printed in her •" Memoirs, ' a lener from Kemble to Captain Topham. in which he says. '' I hope you will have the goodness to give orders to your people to speak favourablv of the Charles, as i2 ^iim 116 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES more depends on it than yon can possibly be aware of." Topliam, in reply, declared that he could not sacrifice the credit of his paper by puffing either Mrs. Siddons or Kemble in comedy. Mrs. Siddons used sometimes to sing comic songs in private (we have been told that " Billy Taylor " was her favourite) with admirable effect ; but on the stage she was out of her element entirely when she laid down the bowl and dagger of Melpomene. The author of " Familiar Epistles " again says, with humour that atones for the satire, " I have heard of a lady who wept plentifully throughout the whole of ' As You Like It,' when Mrs. Siddons played Rosalind, from an unhappy impression that it was ' Jane Shore.' I am glad to re- late the anecdote that so much good tears should not go for nothing." Promiscuous audiences are capable of very rich flights in erudition. The same writer tells us that in witnessing a performance of Betty, the Young Roscius, as he was called, his neighbours in the pit began to argue as to who this Roscius could be. Some said it was one Garrick's Christian name ; but the gene- ral voice decided that he was a French actor, who had been guillotined in the early days of the Revolution. We ourselves once heard a sapient critic inform an inquiring brother, that the "Merchant of Venice" was written by Sheridan, and the "School for Scandal" conjointly by Beaumont and Fletcher. Boaden, in 1825, published a " Life of John Philip Kemble," in two volumes, 8vo. His intimacy with the subject of his biography, enabled him to give some information which few other persons could have ob- tained ; but this information is little in quantity and less in value. Garrick and Kemble have been unfortunate in their historians, of whom it is difficult to say which has the worst. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 117 On SeptemlDer ISth, 1818, William Farren made his first appearance at Covent Garden, as Sir Peter Teazle, followed in quick succession by Lord Oglebi/, Sir Bash- ful Constant, and Sir Anthony Absolute. A loud flourish of trumpets preceded him from Dublin, where he had long been a universal favourite, and for several seasons stage-manager. He at once established himself as the legitimate successor of King, and held his ground against all rivals during a career of thirty-seven years. When he became known to the London public he was a young man, although he had long accustomed himself to play old characters. The 28th of June, 1820, witnessed the last perfor- mance but one, in London, of Jack Johnstone, the celebrated representative of Irish characters. He took a formal leave of the stage at Liverpool, in the August following ; but returned for one night, at Drury Lane, May the 18th, 1822, when he volunteered his services as Dennis Bulgruddery, for the benefit of his distressed countrymen.* He was then in his seventy-fifth year. Whether in or out of his stage clothes, Johnstone was a remarkably handsome man, with a bearing so innately gentleman-like that it was impossible by any external travesty to change him into a clown. But his constitu- tional humour made up for that strange deficiency in his rustics — a want of natural vulgarity. His acting was ease personified, without the slightest appearance of study or labour. In a military character, or a travelled Irish gentleman, he stood above all rivalry ; but Tyrone Power, who filled his place within a very few years, ex- celled him in the line of rollicking dare-devils, which « Etbnund Kean gave up the proceeds of his Benefit on the 3d of June following, for the same benevolent purpose, and acted three parts -.—Paris, in the " Roman Actor," Odavian, and Torn Tug, in the " Waterman," with all the songs. 118 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES admitted of greater breadth and depended more on phy- sical elasticity and exuberant spirits. In their drunken men both were equally happy, and hit the difficult point of rich merriment without verging on disgust. Irish Johnstone, as he was commonly called, was one of the pleasantest table companions that ever gladdened society. He realized a handsome fortune, and lived to see his eighty-first birth-day* — another eminent in- stance that the exercise of the art histrionic is in itself highly conducive to health, happiness, and longevity. Much of the true spirit of Irish fun and eccentricity, departed, and apparently " never to return," with John- stone and Power. Of some later representatives, the less that is said the better. Hudson and Barney Williams must, however, be quoted as praise-worthy exceptions. They are always agreeable, animated, and natural. But when we witnessed the heavy, measured, hard, mill-grinding attempts of the greater number of the so-called successors of the two great artists of whom we are now speaking, we thought of the past with re- doubled regret, and a feeling very similar to what the late Daniel O'Connell meant to convey, when we once heard him say of a tiresome long-winded talker (the son of a great orator), at a public-meeting, " that young man does not remind me of his father." Irish fun is either the best or the worst thing on the stage. It admits of no medium. The richest, the most varied, and the most exhilarating of all imaginable humour, when truthfully and tastefully depicted ; but when, as Shakespeare says, " overdone, or come tardy off," it becomes in equal pro- portion wearisome, vulgar, and anti-national. The association of John Johnstone and Tyrone Power, * He died on the 26th December, 1828, at his residence, No. 5, Tavis- tock Row, Bedford Square, and lies buried in a vault in St. Paul's, Covent Garden. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 119 wliicli naturally presents itself here, although not in chronological keeping, suggests also an estimate of their relative pretensions. They were unquestionably the two greatest actors of Irishmen the stage has produced, within the range of surviving experience. Which of the two is entitled to take precedence of the other, or whether they stood on an equality, are questions open to endless argu- ment and opinion. Their style and qualifications diifered in essential particulars, however the general merit might be evenly balanced. We know of no other candidate to be admitted into the competition. Charles Connor, who died suddenly on the 7th October, 1826, was next on the list ; but, although good, he scarcely stood beyond first in the second class. His early death made way for Power, before he had himself reached the point of excel- lence, Of those who preceded, we have but scanty records ; and to classify the pretensions of the living would be unprofitable. The step from mediocrity to greatness is wide and impassable except to the chosen few. Moderate talent may please, but high genius alone can delight to enthusiasm. Johnstone, although perhaps less habitually fami- liarized to first class society, had on the stage a more commanding air, and a more imposing personal deport- ment than Power possessed. Never wanting in the spirit and humour whicli his part required, he indulged more in repose. He flashed out occasionally and then subsided for a time. Sometimes he ambled or cantered gently along ; but Power dashed away in a continual gallop. As George the Third said of Ganick, when asked to describe his peculiar manner, " he was unlike anybody else, always doing something, and always keeping the whole audience on the alert." With John- stone the laugh was long and loud at intervals. With Power it was incessant. An occasional round shot, 120 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES as distinguished from the rattling fire of musketry. Johnstone, although rich in his clowns, was scarcely so distinctly identical as his successor. His Dennis Bul- gruddery, Looney Mactwolter, Murtoch Delany, and Teague, were more nearly related than Power's Rory O^More, 0^ Flannigan, Larry Hoolagan, and Teddy the Tihr. Johnstone's " brogue " was purer, indigenously Milesian, and engrafted on his natural attributes. Power could assume or divest himself of his Hibernian dialect and cadence, as he pleased. But absence and a foreign education had mixed up with it some discrepancies which a practical native ear might discover, although not prominently perceptible to ordinary observation. Johnstone excelled in characters where a high-bred tone blended itself with military ease and polish, such as Sir Lucius 0^ Ti'igger, Sindi Ilajor 0^ Flaherty. We are not sure that he would not have surpassed Power in certain points of " The Irish Ambassador," Sir Patrick OTlenipo, admirable as that representation proved in the hands of the actor for whom it was invented. But we question whether he possessed physical energy enough to support a whole play instead of now and then an insulated scene. With Power the point was settled beyond dispute by repeated experiment. Up to his time the Irishman in a comedy or farce had been a feature, and a highly amusing one, thrown in to relieve, rather than a central pivot, on which the entire action revolved. Johnstone brought to perfection an existing style, but Power created a new one for himself. Both studied from nature ; but Power, although by much the younger man, had opened more leaves of her polyglot volume, as he had seen greater varieties of human cha- racter, in different and far-distant countries, and had led a life of superior travel and adventure. He introduced a new school of acting, founded on his own inexhaustible OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 121 energy. Authors began to write pieces for him which partook of the monodramatic class. In these he was the alpha and omega, seldom absent from the stao-c, while the laugh never ceased, and the audience never yawned. As the curtain fell, after three or four hours of joyous excitement, there stood Tyrone Power, fresh, smiling, and untired, as when he bounded on the stage under the first burst of acclamation which greeted his entrance. Natural spirits made his labour light, and doubled the satisfaction of the spectators, who felt that he entertained them without effort. It seems rather an odd contradiction, although a common case, that pro- fessed comic actors are often constitutional hypochon- driacs — men unconscious of a joke, except those set down for them, and who never laugh out of character — bending under morbid melancholy, until relieved by brandy-and-water, or fidgetting in a state of nervous depression, not many degrees removed from lunacy. " Go and see Liston," said an eminent physician to a patient who consulted him as to the best cure for low spirits. " Alas ! I am the man," replied the sufferer in a despairing tone. The story has been fathered on Liston, whom it fits appropriately enough, but we have seen it in earlier print, recorded of a celebrated French comedian, who flourished more than a century ago. Johnstone and Power were remarkable exceptions to this rule — as merry and entertaining in private as on the stage, full of rich anecdote and conversible on many topics. They taught us to believe practically in the value of a " light heart," which, according to the old song, with the accompaniment of light marching order, will carry us triumphantly through the world and all its battles. Power realized more money, and in less time, than Johnstone; he received higher salaries and was more 122 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES individually attractive. He was fortunate, too, in a larger and more brilliant list of original characters ; but this marks the extent of his popularity. Dramatic authors write for the actors who can give their works the greatest currency. Johnstone far excelled Power as a vocalist (he had appeared for several years as a singer) ; and was unrivalled in a chanson-a-hoh-e: but Power sang pleasingly, and always introduced his songs with taste and effect, both on the stage and in private society. He sometimes supplied the words himself, and adapted them to well-known national airs which suited the com- pass of his voice. We are not aware that Johnstone ever meddled with authorship in any shape. Power wrote much, and distinguished himself in more than one branch of ornamental literature. Both were prudent in worldly affairs, honourable in all their dealings, and systematically gentlemanlike in their habits.* Each was the son of an officer in the army, left under the care of an indulgent mother, and intended for the military profession. Each imbibed a fondness for the stage from intimacy with two managers who gave them the entree of their respective theatres in early youth — Johnstone with Ryder of Dublin, and Power with Adamson in Cardiff. Each encountered the strong opposition of parent and friends in the course he had resolved on, and each came out and persisted for years in a line contrary to that for which his attributes were especially moulded. Their ultimate success was equal, but here the parallel ceases ; Johnstone lived to extreme old age, while Power was cut off in his prime. This slight comparison of two very superior men is attempted less in the character * Johnstone was twice married. By his second wife, a Miss Bolton, he left an only daughter, to whom he bequeathed a considerable fortune. She was a lady of great beauty and accomplishments, married Mr. James Wallack, and died, we believe, in 1850. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 123 of a critic than as a recorder of impressions uninfluenced by prejudice, and formed on personal observation. Power, as our readers will remember, was lost in the President, which foundered with all on board, as it is supposed, on the night of the 13th March, 1841. For a considerable time the fact was disbelieved, and such was the prevailing impression of the good fortune attached to the name of Tyrone Power, that it was still confidently expected that the missing steamer would be heard of, long after all reasonable ground for such expectation had ceased to exist. It was singular enough that Power had a prejudice against the President, and gave up the idea of taking his passage in her, as he intended, on her first outward voyage, saying she looked unlucky, and had a broken back. More than eighteen years have passed over since she disappeared in that destroying tempest of March, 1841, and not even the smallest vestige of the ill-starred vessel, or aught that it contained, has been disclosed to human eye. This event stands recorded in its shroud of doubt and darkness, amongst the impressive tragedies of history, and will often be referred to, and called up in illustration — " To point a moral, or adorn a tale." What Dr. Johnson, with some exaggeration of feeling, arising from the memory of long friendship, said of the decease of Garrick after his retirement, may with more strict fidelity be applied to the untimely fate of Power, in the full tide of his popularity : — " His death eclipsed the gaiety of nations, and impoverished the public stock of harmless pleasure." During the early part of 1818, there appeared alarm- ing indications of a revival of the Rosciomania. A child named Clara Fisher, warranted to be only six years old, astonished the town with a performance of Lord Flimnap, in Garrick's romance of "Lilliput, and 124 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES wound up with the tent scene of " Richard the Third." The exhibition was wonderful for so young a creature ; but when she grew to be a woman, her talent fell to a very moderate standard. It had been so before with young Betty, who, as a youth, evinced an extraordinary aptitude for acting ; but his partisans, not content with lauding him up as a boy of great promise, insisted that he was actually at that moment a first-rate performer, and would soon eclipse all competitors. The public, as usual, suffered themselves to be carried away in the whirlpool. As Cumberland says, he was caressed by dukes, and, what is better still, by the daughters of dukes, flattered by wits, feasted by aldermen, stuck up in the windows of print-shops, and wafted to his morn- ing's rehearsal in coronetted carriages, attended by powdered lackeys. One of the prints alluded to exhi- bited Master Betty and John Kemble on the same horse, Betty in front. He was represented as saying to Kemble, " I don't mean to insult you, but when two persons ride on a horse, one must ride behind." George the Third, who was a determined play-goer, could never be induced to see the young Roscius. When told that he was a wonderfully clever boy, " Pooh, pooh ! " said his Majesty, " I don't care for clever boys ; I'll wait till he's a man." He waited and never went; for with manhood came disappointment and mediocrity. When Betty acted at Covent Garden, in 1813, the public had recovered their senses, and the manager never offered to renew the engagement. There have been a legion of youthful Roscu and Boscia on the stage, besides Master Betty and Clara Fisher, but none that ever rivalled the first either in popularity or profit. There was the little girl, Miss Mudie, who, at eight, told the audience with the most perfect self-possession, when they hissed her, that she knew it was an organised conspiracy, and claimed the protection of the British OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 125 public. Tlieu came Master Balfe, and Master Burke, and lately the Batemans, and little Cordelia Howard, and little Anna Maria Quinn ; with infant Viottis, Lyras, and Sapphos without number; some of whom clung pertinaciously on to childhood, till they were proved to be thirty, and were only driven away by a combined assault of baptismal registers. Premature talent is not confined to the dramatic art, but many instances have been recorded in higher and more complicated sciences, which leave the early prodi- gies of the stage at a contemptible distance. Gassendi, according to Bernier, delivered lectures at four, taught astronomy to the boys of his village at seven, and harangued his bishop in Latin at ten. Pascal made discoveries in mathematics at eleven ; Grotius lisped law in his cradle ; Joseph Scaliger spoke thirteen lan- guages at twelve ; and Ferdinand of Cordova was such a sage at nine, that the monks of Venice publicly denounced him as antichrist. Samuel Wesley, on the testimony of Dr. Burney, composed music before he could write. Mozart w^as a proficient on the harpsichord at four, and when just turned of five, wrote a concerto so difficult that nobody could execute it but himself; William Crouch, of Norwich, played " God save the Queen," at little more than two years old, without any previous instruction, and a month or two after, aston- ished his father by a voluntary on the organ of his own composition. But these examples of precocity are nothing to that of the learned Lipsius, who, as we are assured by Mr. Shandy, senior, composed a work the day he was born. We must refer our readers to the book for my Uncle Toby's matter of fact commentary on the hypothesis, as being more natural, though far less profound, than that of the erudite Baillet.* * See " Tristram Shandy," and " Jugement des Savans." 126 THE LIFE AND THEATKICAL TIMES CHAPTER VIII. KDMUND KEAN IN KING LEAR AND DE MONTFORT— REFERENCE TO THB ORIGINAL PERFORMANCE OF THE LATTER PLAT — CAUSES OF ITS NON- SDCCESS — SUPERIORITY OF THE STRANGER AS AN ACTING DRAMA — MISS BAILLIE'S PLATS ON THE PASSIONS — " RAYNER" AND " CONSTANTINE PAL^OLOGUS" MRS. HEMANS'S " VESPERS OF PALERMO" RETIRE- MENT AND DEATH OF JOHN EMERT — ROMEO COATES, THE AMATEUR OF FASHION EDMUND KEAN AND YOUNG TOGETHER AT DRURY LANE RETIREMENT OF JOSEPH MUNDEN DEATH OF TALMA EARLY EDUCATION OF CHARLES KEAN — HIS FIRST APPEARANCE ON THE STAGE. In 1820, Edmund Kean accomplished what had long been a leading object of his ambition, the performance of King Lear. The play continued under suspense from feelings of delicacy, during the last mental de- rangement of George III. ; but the death of the good old King, on the 29th of January, in the year named above, removed the tahoo. Great things were expected from this revival, and by none more sanguinely than by the actor himself. " I will make the audience," he said, " as mad as I shall be." The play drew crowded houses, and was repeated twenty-eight times in that season, but even Kean was not quite satisfied with the effect produced. The curse was tremendous, and there were other points of great excellence, but something was wanting to the completeness of the picture. Per- haps the cause might be that Shakespeare was still enfeebled by Tate's incongruous alterations. Towards the close of the year, Kean paid his first visit to America, where he was received with a ferment of enthusiasm, OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 127 and returned in September, 1821, with increased repu- tation and an overflowing harvest of dollars. On the 27th of November, Miss Baillie's tragedy of " De Montfort," was disinterred for him, with a newly arranged fifth act. Five unattractive repetitions limited the success ; but it is no reproach to Kean that he failed to render a play popular, which, adorned as it is by powerful writing, is so inherently heavy, that even John Kemble and Mrs. Siddons combined were unable to give it dramatic vitality. The authoress complimented Kean on his acting in the warmest terms, and the pro- fessed critics were almost unanimous in his favour. The poet, Campbell, who was present, was so enrap- tm*ed with Kean's performance, that he sought his acquaintance in consequence, and talked of writing a play that he might represent the hero. In his " Life of Mrs. Siddons," he says, " There was so much silence, and so much applause, that though I had had my mis- givings to the contrary, I was impressed, at the end, with a belief that the play had now acquired and would henceforth for ever retain stage popularity. But when I congi-atulated Kean on having rescued ' De Montfort,' he told me that, though a fine poem, it would never be an acting play." When " De Montfort " was originally announced for representation at Drury Lane, in 1800, the public roused up from the periodical apathy which ever and anon comes over them ; the critics prophesied the approach of a new era in dramatic literature, and the talents of the two great artists, then in their zenith, left no doubt that the conceptions of the authoress would be fully realized. The expectation was great, and the disap- pointment commensurate. The audience yawned in spite of themselves, in spite of the exquisite poetry, the vigorous passion, and the transcendent acting of John 128 T'HE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Kemble, supported by Mrs. Siddons. There was a total absence of underplot or skilfully interwoven sub- ordinate characters ; no variety, no relief. It was all De Montfort, through five long acts, with his deadly hatred, his unsatisfactory arguments, his gloomy medi- tations, and their inevitable catastrophe. There was a dreary unredeemed monotony, which coiled round the entire dramatis personce like a sepulchral shroud, and reduced to suffering what should have been enjoyment. It was a positive reprieve when the curtain closed all in, and though the spectators felt that they had been deal- ing with a very superior production, many doubted if they understood it ; few shed tears (the most genuine test of ti-agedy), and still fewer cared to undergo the operation a second time. The play was consigned to the shelf after a short and unproductive run of eleven nights. More than twenty years later, the same result ensued from the same cause. The play, as we have seen, was still foimd to be a ponderous monodrama, and its resur- rection was even more transient than its first brief existence. All this is very discouraging, and some- what extraordinary when there is such undoubted excellence in the writing, and that ■^^-l•iting has been so ably illustrated by the best performers of modern days. Look at the " Stranger," which keeps the stage, and never fails to interest the audience, although recent critics have entered into a league against this and other dramas of the same class. It scarcely possesses a tithe of the merit or pretensions of " De Montfort," yet it is a far more efi'ective play, and the same great actors, Kemble and Mrs. Siddons, immortalized this German impropriety, this daring outrage upon our social feelings, while they failed in giving permanent life to the purer and more legitimate English tragedy. It must be (as OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 129 we think) that the one, with all its faults and inferi- ority, is more natural than the other, more intelligible to the mass of spectators, more likely to happen to-day or to-morrow. The one is simple, the other strained. It is the rule opposed to the exception. We sympathise more readily with what is likely, than with what is barely possible. Many are inclined to think that the authoress of "De Montfort " has gone beyond nature in colouring hatred so strongly, when arising from an insignificant cause, and cherished pertinaciously after so long an interval. For one case of romantic or highly wrought incident, either of crime or virtue, and which only happens to peculiar natures under peculiar contin- gencies, there occur twenty common ones in the ordinary- incidents of eveiy day life ; and in which, as everybody can understand them, they take a greater interest. If this reasoning is coiTect, it may be applied as a general rule, although inti-oduced here to bear on a particular instance, and proves that a mere skilful playr^Tight may carry away the public suffrage, which is sometimes refused to higher genius and far more profound con- ceptions. Miss Baillie having -wi'itten her double series of " Plays on the Passions," — which were generally pro- nounced more adapted to the closet than the stage, — published, in 1804, an additional volume of " Miscel- laneous Plays," intended expressly for representation, and all of which, at different times, had been offered to, and rejected by the London managers. She was evi- dently solicitous that her dramas should be acted, and says in the Preface, " It has been, and still is, my strongest desire to add a few pieces to the stock of what may be called our national or permanently acting plays, how unequal soever my abilities may be to the object of my ambition." And again, " I have wished to leave VOL. I. K 130 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES behind me, in the world, a few plays, some of which might have a chance of continuing to be acted even in our canvas theatres and barns, and of preserving to my name some remembrance of that species of amusement which I have, above every other, enjoyed." She says, very justly too, that the failure of her attempts to add to the acted drama is the more to be regretted, as having no opportunity of seeing any of her produc- tions on the stage, many faults respecting effect, arising from want of practical experience, would remain undis- covered, and thus render improvement in her subsequent productions almost impossible. This Preface was pub- lished after the first production of " De Montfort," although written probably at an antecedent date. That she had, even without experience, some idea of what are called stage effects, or coups de tliedtre^ may be evi- denced by several instances from her dramas : — such as the arrangements for the execution of Etliwald ;'^ the sawing asunder of the planks supporting the scaffold by Ohio, the negro, in " Rayner," and the contrivance of Otlioric to escape death with torture, in " Constantine Palseologus." " A ^ropos des hottes,''' as somebody says in an old French farce, and everybody quotes when they want an apt sentence — there is a passage in a letter from Sir Walter Scott to Mrs. Hemans (in Lockhart's " Life "), on the production of her tragedy, called the " Vespers of Palermo," in Edinburgh, in 1824, which supports so strongly the argument that construction supersedes lan- guage with our present audiences, that we venture to insert it. He says, " they care little [that is, audiences] about * A very similar effect was long afterwards copied from this, and in- troduced in a play at Dnu-y Lane, called the " Red Mask," adapted from Cooper's novel of the "Bravo," when the execution of Jacopo was transacted much after the same fashion. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 131 poetry or fine writing, on the stage. It is situation, passion, and rapidity of action which seem to he the principal requisites for ensuring the success of a modern drama; but I trust by dint of a special jury, the piece may have a decent success ; certainly I should not hope for much more." This play did succeed moderately in Edinburgh, although it had been an outside failure in London, but never became popular or attractive, and most probably from a deficiency of the qualities so strongly insisted on in Sir Walter's letter. On the 29th of June, 1822, the boards of Covent Garden were trodden for the last time by John Emery, who died in the course of the following month, at the comparatively early age of forty-five. He has left no successor in his peculiar line, which expired with him. No actor ever evinced more power blended with rich humour than Emery did when portraying the rough and simple nature of unpolished country life. He was great in all he undertook, even down to such small but defined sketches as Barnardine and Justice Silence. He was a painter, too, as well as an actor, and brought his knowledge and taste in the one art to bear on the other. In such opposite characters as Caliban, Dogherr^/, and Barnardine he appeared to be inspired with the very genius of Shakespeare; but Tyke, in the " School of Reform," was the part with which he peculiarly identified his name. It was an im- personation of tremendous energy and truth, equal in the impassioned scenes to the highest efforts of the first tragic actors. Emery could produce effects out of the slenderest materials, and give prominence to parts which, in the hands of a common artist, would have been held of no importance — such as Gibbet and Lockit. He usually visited the provinces in conjunction with Irish Johnstone. They worked well together, and the k2 132 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES combined talents of two comedians so distinct in their walk produced a corresponding attraction. Emery was sometimes encored in the jealous scene of Fixture, in " A Roland for an Oliver," — a compliment, except in this case, and Maimvorm's sermon, when delivered by Liston, invariably confined to singers. Eomeo Coates would sometimes gratify the audience by a voluntary repetition of his dying agonies ; and the celebrated Dublin amateur, Luke Plunkett, once essayed to repeat the fight at Bosworth after he was killed ; but the vic- torious Bichmond held him forcibly down, and refused again to "stand the hazard of the die" against such a desperate adversary. The mention of the celebrated " amateur of fashion," Robert, or, as he was more gene- rally called, Romeo Coates, from his favourite character, may excuse a line or two in our reminiscences. A West ]ndia proprietor, and the owner of extensive estates in the Island of Antigua, he possessed ample means for in- dulging a whimsical taste, and, some forty years ago, Avas a man upon town of the first order of singularity. We recollect him a constant appendage to Bond Street, while that yet favoured locality was still the fashionable lounge, and before Regent Street was thought of. He drove a light claret-coloured curricle, in shape like a cockle-shell, with beautiful bay horses and two splen- didly-mounted outriders. He was usually attired in nankeen tights and white silk stockings, to display his legs, on the symmetry of which he greatly prided him- self His harness, panels, and liveries were bedizened with silver cocks, his adopted armorial bearings, with the motto, " Whilst I live I'll crow." These unlucky cocks furnished an apt cue to his ridiculers, for, as soon as he died in Ttomeo or Lothario, there arose from the gallery of the Haymarket, a simultaneous burst of crow- ing, which sounded as if every farm-yard in England will OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 133 liad furnished its quota for the gratulation. A cruel trick was once played off upon Coates, by sending him a fictitious invitation to one of the Prince Eegent's grand fetes at Carlton House. When his name was an- nounced, and he appeared in gorgeous costume, the Prince, who at once recollected that he was not included amongst the guests, whispered to those about him, " This poor man has been hoaxed, but I will disappoint them." He then advanced to Coates with that peculiar urbanity by which he was distinguished, and welcomed him in the most cordial manner. Divested of his thea- trical mania, Mr. Coates was perfectly rational in conduct, and well informed ; while in disposition he was harmless, amiable, and charitable to a degree. He lived to a great age, and owed his death, at last, in some sort, to the theatre. Coming out of Drury Lane, he was run over by a street cabriolet, and died from the effects of the accident on the 4th of March, 1848. There have been many ab- surd theatrical amateurs, but none to compete with Romeo Coates, who always seemed insensible to the ridicule he excited. During the season of 1822-3, at Drury Lane, a great sensation was produced in the theatrical world by the combined performances of Kean and Young. They appeared together for the first time on the 27th of November, 1822, as Othello and laqo, followed in due course by Jaffier and Pierre, Posthumus and lachimo. These three plays were very attractive. Both performers were roused by the competition, and played their very best. On two benefit occasions they acted Lothaire and Ouiscard in " Adelgitha," and Alexander and Clytus, in " Alexander the Great." On the 31st of May, 1824, Joseph Munden left the stage. His retiring characters were Sir Robert Bramble, in the " Poor Gentleman," and Dozey. in " Past Ten 134 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES O'clock," with the usual valedictory address on similar occasions. He came out at Covent Garden in 1790. Reader, he was a great actor, and, if he sometimes coloured a little beyond nature, it was impossible not to laugh at him. He had not simply a face, but an endless gal- lery of faces. He has been called a grimacer, but this very extravagance added power to what he uttered. When he appeared to have exhausted all his humour, he had ever a stroke or two in store. He possessed also the peculiar merit of playing serious old men as well as comic ones. His Captain Bertram and Old Dornton were equal to his Sir Francis Gripe and Old Rapid. His Marall was inimitable, and his Nipperhin and Christopher Sly never to be forgotten. No living man could wonder or see a ghost like Munden. The old Spanish proverb says, " He who has not seen Seville has lost a miracle." So have you lost a marvellous treat, such as you will never have provided for you again, if you began to frequent playhouses after Joseph Munden had departed. You are as unlucky as Darteneuf, the great epicure of Pope's day, who died just before turtle was first imported from the West Indies. Shall we attempt to describe this incom- parable comedian and his vagaries? If we were to write for a hundred years, we could never emulate the brilliant sentences of Charles Lamb, in " Elia;" and to them we must refer for the better edification of those who may like to read of what they can never hope to look on. Munden was careful, and fond of money, even to ex- treme parsimony. He died in 1832, aged seventy-four, leaving a widow, one son (an officer in the army), and a daughter. His personal effects were sworn under! £20,000. He was supposed to be much richer, but ther emoluments and savings of actors are invariably overrated, j OF CHAKLES KEAN, F.S.A. 135 During the summer of 1824, Edmund Kccan visited the Continent for the second time, and seems to have made a great impression on the monks of St. Bernard. They spoke with delight of him to many subsequent travellers, and he so thoroughly reciprocated the senti- ment, that he inscribed in their book that he had there passed the happiest day of his life. On his return, he became involved in the well-known trial from the result of which his health and popularity never recovered. A second visit to America again recruited his funds ; but his memory began to fail, and, though he could re- tain his old parts, he had lost the faculty of acquiring a new one. He was much too young in years to feel the inroads of time through lawful wear and tear, but he had impaired his powers by reckless indulgence. On the 19th of October, 1826, the celebrated French actor. Talma, died at his house, in Paris. His age was supposed to be sixty-three, but on that point he was mysterious. Whenever asked to decide the question, he replied, with a smile, that " actors and women should never be dated. We are old and young," added he, " according to the characters we represent." This great artist belongs not to the history of the English stage, but he associated much with Englishmen ; and, in a theatrical record, it would be an unpardonable omis- sion not to give him a few tributary passages. Francis Joseph Talma may be ranked amongst the most remarkable men of the age and country in which he lived. His theatrical eminence was only one of his many claims to distinction. The Garrick of the French stage, combined with the powers of a first-rate actor, the man of literature, the well-bred gentleman, the honest citizen, the steady friend, the affectionate husband and father, and the agreeable companion, en- dowed with ample stores of knowledge and unrivalled 136 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES conversational powers. His memory resembled a vast magazine from whence he could draw supplies at will, without danger of exhausting the hoard. A short time before his death, Talma was asked by an admiring friend why he did not write his own biogi'aphy, as La Clairon, Le Kain, Preville, and Mole had done before him. He answered that he had not time ; and, that having so incessantly studied and repeated the thoughts and words of others, he could find no original phrases in which to express his ideas. On a just comparison of pretensions, it may be admitted that Talma was the greatest tragic actor that France has ever produced. Men of high stamp preceded him — such as Baron, Le Kain, Mouvel, La Rive.* He excelled them all ; and none of his successors, to the present year inclusive, are worthy to rank in the same file. There is not a shadow of Talma amongst the living men. In- ferior to Garrick in versatility, he excelled him in classical acquirements, and had built himself more on the ancient models. He was the only French actor who had the good taste and courage to disregard the measured monotony of the rhyme, in which all their tragedies were written, and to break through the fetters of conventional declamation. His first attempts were comparative failures. He was pronounced too natural and familiar — not sufiiciently imposing for the million. There were a few discerning exceptions, however, who saw that the true spirit was in him ; and Ducis, who has been called the " French Shakespeare," was amongst the number. He introduced himself to the debutant. * Monvel had great sensibility, but no advantages of person or face. La Rive was handsome but cold. It was said of the first, that he was a soul without a body ; and of the second, that he was a body without a soul. " To make a perfect actor," said Champfort, " La Rive should be compelled to swallow Monvel." OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 137 and proffered a friendship which terminated only with his life. Talma and Ducis have been materially in- debted to each other for much of the reputation they both enjoy. In 1789, Talma being then in his twenty-sixth year, a play, called " Charles the Ninth," was presented to the Theatre Francais, by Chenier. Many were opposed to the production of this drama. The political senti- ments were considered dangerous and inflammatory. The managers thought they contained the elements of a tumult, but the friends of the author had a predominant influence, and compelled its production. St. Phal, the leading tragedian of the company, was afraid of under- taking the terrible hero of St. Bartholomew, and rejected the character. The next in rank, one by one, as a matter of course, considered themselves treated with indignity, in being applied to as substitutes or stop-gaps, and peremp- torily refused. As a last and desperate resource. Talma was thought of, and eagerly embraced the opportunity. Here was the chance he wanted — an original part, which might make him for ever. The opposite extreme lay in the balance, but the hazard gave him no concern. "He is quite mad enough to risk it," thought his com- panions ; and when it was known that he had so decided, many pronounced his funeral elegy. " Here will be an end of Talma," said they ; " the play and the actor will be condemned together." The result falsified their wishes and expectations. Talma had closely studied the historical descriptions and pictures of Charles IX. ; had impressed himself with a perfect knowledge of his personal appearance, dress, manners, and peculiarities. He presented himself upon the stage a resuscitated portrait of the weak and blood-thirsty Valois. In 1791, Talma married. The wife of his choice, 138 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Mademoiselle Vanhove, was fifteen years older than himself, but still a very attractive, charming woman ; an actress in the same theatre, and the possessor of a con- siderable fortune. The latter circumstance induced many to say that on his part the marriage was one of interest rather than inclination ; but the affectionate life they led, and the happiness of their union, contra- dicted the rumour by the most convincing evidence. Much idle gossip, which has no foundation in truth, has been propagated relative to the early acquaintance of Talma with the first Napoleon ; how they were at school together, and afterwards young men upon town in Paris ; and how, when they dined at a restaurateur's, the actor paid the reckoning, because the future emperor had no cash in his pocket. According to memoranda left by Talma himself, their first meeting took place on the 18th of June. 1792, in the green-room of the Theatre Francais. Napoleon, then Captain Buonaparte, had been brought there by Michaud, an actor of the company, and at his own particular request introduced to Talma, to whom he paid several flattering compliments on his performance of Charles IX. During a short conversation at this inter\dew. Talma discovered that his new acquaintance had read much and reflected more, and that he was no ordinary man, although neither of heroic stature, nor imposing in personal appearance. There can be no doubt that then, and afterwards, Napoleon was in great pecuniary distress; but it does not appear, although often asserted, that he received aid from Talma. Their acquaintance, at that time, was too slight. The actor relates the follow- ing anecdote : — Napoleon, to obtain immediate support, while vainly soliciting employment, had successively pledged what- ever trinkets he possessed, rings, brooches, and watches, OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 139 and his resources were entirely exhausted. The man of destiny was reduced to despair, and resolved to end all by a plunge in the Seine. On his way to the Pont Neuf, he ran against some one in his abstraction, and raising his head, recognised an old school-fellow of Brienne. The latter had just received from his notary the sum of 20,000f. ; the former was intent on suicide, because he had no longer the price of a dinner. They divided the money between them, and Napoleon returned to his lodging. If that warm- hearted comrade of the college had accidentally passed down another street, the history of the next twenty years would have been -^Titten without the names of Lodi, Marengo, Austerlitz, Jena, Friedland, Moscow, Leipzig, and Waterloo. The acquaintance between the great actor and future emperor gradually ripened into friendship. When the Egyptian expedition was planned, Talma, in his enthu- siasm, volunteered to accompany the commander-in- chief. Napoleon, the only person who could by authority prevent this enterprise, set himself entirely against it. " You must not commit such an act of rash folly. Talma," said he. " You have a brilliant course before you ; leave fighting to those who are unable to do any- thing better." When Napoleon rose to be first consul. Talma, with the modesty of his nature, and the good sense of a man of the world, made his visits less frequent at the Tuileries. His reception was, however, as cordial as in the days of their nearer equality. With the progress of events Napoleon became emperor, and the actor naturally concluded that the intimacy of the sovereign and the subject must then entirely cease. But in a few days a note was addressed to him by the first chamberlain, couched in these words: "His Imperial Majesty has 140 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES felt much surprise at not receiving M. Talma's personal felicitations. It appears as if he intended to withdraw himself from his Majesty, which is far from his Majesty's wish. M. Talma is hereby invited to present himself at the Tuileries as soon as he finds convenient." It may be supposed that such an invitation was not declined. He waited on the Emperor, was received with his former friendship, repeated his visits constantly, and never without being Avelcomed with peculiar dis- tinction. All who enjoyed Talma's society are unanimous in praise of his amiable qualities. Lady Morgan (in her book on France) says : " His dignity and tragic powers on the stage are curiously but charmingly contrasted with the simplicity, playfulness, and gaiety of his most unassuming^ unpretending manners in private life." He was thoroughly an honest man, with a cultivated mind, an unerring taste, and a warm, true heart. He dispensed his affluence with hospitality devoid of ostentation. His principal residence was at a villa which he had pur- chased at Brumoy, in the neighbourhood of Paris, with extensive grounds and prospects, where he maintained a splendid establishment, and delighted to pass his time secluded from the noise and bustle of the metropolis. Twice a- week he went to Paris to perform. Talma's superiority was never contested by any ambitious rival, yet he suffered much during a series of years (not in popularity, but in personal annoyance), from the severe and unjustly depreciatory criticisms of Geoffroy, a celebrated Aristarchus of his day, who had checked the success of St. Prix, lacerated the decline of MoM, and driven La Rive prematurely from the stage. He had a double infusion of the waspish acer- bity of Freron (the antagonist of Voltaire), with ten times his erudition and tact in the art of tormentiuff. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 141 Talma writhed under these assaults, which constantly revived at regular intervals, but he was too old then to change his style, and too proud to adopt lessons so dogmatically administered. He derived consolation, however, from the enthusiastic encomiums of Madame de Stael, liberally bestowed in her work entitled, "Germany;" and in the letters addressed to him by Corinna, from her involuntary exile at Coppet. Talma, so late as December, 1821, when he was verging towards his sixtieth year, achieved one of his greatest triumphs, in Jouy's Tragedy of " Sylla." Napoleon had been dead only a few months. The actor determined to recall the living image of his early friend and subsequent patron, by the closest resemblance which art could enable him to present. He dressed his hair exactly after the well-remembered style of the deceased emperor, and his dictatorial wreath exhibited an accurate facsimile of the laurel diadem in gold with which the first Napoleon was crowned at Notre Dame. The intended identity was recognised at once; and when, in the last scene, he descended majestically from the rostrum, and, laying down the coronet, pronounced the line — " J'ai gouveme sans peiir, et j' abclique sans crainte, the whole audience imagined that they saw the embodied spirit of Napoleon standing in awful majesty before them, and demanding their judgment on his actions. The effect upon such an excitable public may be easily conceived. The government trembled, and thought of interdicting the play ; but they confined themselves to a private communication, in which Talma was directed to curl his hair in future, and adopt a totally new arrangement of the head. Something similar to this occurred in England in 142 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES 1835, when Tallyrand was ambassador. In a play- called " The Minister and jMercer," W. Farren, who acted the Minister, wished to present a fac-simile of the old time-serving diplomatist. His intentions tran- spired, and he was ordered to send his wig for the inspection of the Lord Chamberlain, who suggested certain changes, to prevent the rupture of the entente cordiale between the two countries, which such a palpable insult might have endangered. Talma's last original character, Charles the Sixth (in the tragedy of M. Delaville), proved also to be his final performance. While representing this aged monarch, imbecile, demented, and worn out by sufferings and misfortune, he himself was struggling with the mortal disease which came as the herald of death, and was soon destined to close his earthly career. He was taken ill in Paris, and wished once more to revisit his country seat at Brumoy, but his strength failed so rapidly, that removal was found to be impossible. He expired gi-adually, and without pain, on the 19th of October, 1826, at his own house in the Kue de la Tour- des-Dames. His last words were, " The worst of all is that I cannot see." His sight had completely failed during his illness. Within a few hours after his death, two painters took sketches of his head, and David, the sculptor, was employed on a cast, from which was afterwards executed, in marble, the statue destined to occupy a prominent position in the hall of the Theatre Fran9ais. Two days later, on the 21st of October, the body of Talma was borne to its final rest- ing-place on earth, in the cemetery of Pere la Chaise, attended by a concourse of at least one hundred thousand admiring mourners ; and as the coffin was lowered, his friend, comrade, and rival, Lafont, deposited on the lid a wreath of immortelles, and pronounced a funeral OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. \ oration which was long remembered for its affectio> sincerity. The annals of the French stage embrace three dii tinct epochs, signalized by three great masters, eaci remarkable for an opposite style ; Baron, Le Kain, and Talma. A close parallel presents itself in our own dramatic history, when we turn to the ages, schools, and names of David Garrick, John Kemble, and Edmund Kean. Our chronological series now reaches 1827. Thirteen eventful years had elapsed since that decisive evening in February 1814, when Edmund Kean, the father, had, on the boards of Drury Lane Theatre, identified himself with Shylock. Charles Kean, the son, in due course of time was despatched to school, preparatory for Eton College. His father resolved to give him a good education, an advantage which he fully appreciated, though it had not fallen to his own lot. The boy was first sent to the preparatory establishment of Mr. Styles, at Thames Ditton, and was subsequently placed under the Reverend E, Polehampton, at Worplesdon, in Sm-rey, and afterwards at Greenford, near Harrow. At this seminary he remained several years ; the number of scholars being limited, and principally composed of noblemen's sons. In June, 1824, he entered Eton as an "Oppidan," his father fixing his allowance, for board and education, at ,£300 per annum. His tutor was the Eeverend Mr. Chapman, since Bishop of Colombo : Dr. Goodall, Provost ; and Dr. Keate, Head Master. He remained at Eton three years, being placed as high as the rules of the institution, having reference to age, would allow. When taken away, he was in the uppci- division, and had obtained considerable credit by his Latin verses. Boatina- and cricket matches have ever been the l44 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES two great amusements of the Etonians during summer ; but the abolition or modification of these time-honoured, manly exercises, is now menaced by short-sighted, mistaken reformers, who, in the rabid furor of instruc- tion, forget the practical truism that — " All work and no play, Make Jack a duU boy." Charles Kean became so expert a leader in aquatics, that he was chosen second captain of the " Long Boats," as they are called — no insignificant honour in Etonian eyes. Under the tuition of the celebrated Angelo, he also won distinction as an accomplished fencer, a valu- able acquirement in the profession he was destined to pursue. His contemporaries and associates included many youths of rank and promise, who have since risen to marked eminence amongst the " men of the time." In the list we may enumerate the Duke of Newcastle, the late Marquis of Waterford, Lords Eglin- ton. Sandwich, Selkirk, Boscawen, Canning, Walpole, Adare, Alford ; Messrs. W. Gladstone, Somerset, Cow- per. Holmes, Saville, Craven, Wentworth, Middleton, Watts Russell, Alexander, Eyre, &c.* Up to the period at which we have now arrived, everything appeared outwardly happy and prosperous in the Kean family. The domestic skeleton was there, but, as yet, invisible. Charles was repeatedly assured by both his parents that he would inherit a splendid fortune, and be brought up to a distinguished profession. His mother preferred the church ; his father inclined to the navy ; but his own predilection was decidedly for * A series of higlily interesting articles entitled " Recollections of Eton College in the days of Charles Kean," have recently appeared in the Era and attracted much attention. They abound in characteristic anecdotes. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 145 a military career. There can be no doubt whatever, that Edmund Kean might have maintained himself and family in all the elegancies of life, and have left behind him a sum amounting to 50,000^. Since the days of Garrick, no actor had received so much money in the same short space of time. But clouds had long been gathering, and a crisis was at hand. Habits of irregularity and reckless extravagance had gradually settled upon him. Ill-chosen associates estranged him from his wife and son. He had still a few sincere and anxious friends, who stepped in and endeavoured to arrest his down- ward course ; but a legion of evil counsellors hemmed him round, and the warning voice passed by unheeded. He was falling from his high position ; his popularity was on the decline, his physical powers were sink- ing under premature decay, and his finances were exhausted. Charles, who had for some time suspected the total derangement of his father's aifairs, was startled into conviction by a pressing letter from his mother, received during his last half-year at Eton, in the early part of 1827, entreating him to come to her immediately. He obtained permission to absent himself for a few days, and hastened to London. He found her suffering the most intense anxiety, and slie implored him not to leave her. It appeared that Mr. Calcraft, a member of Parlia- ment^ and one of the most influential of the Drury Lane Committee of that day, had offered to procure for him a cadetship in the East India Company's service. His father thought the offer too eligible to be declined, and in giving notice tha,t he intended to accept it, ordered his son to make instant preparations for his departure. Mrs. Kean had been entirely separated from her husband for two or three years ; she was reduced to a broken, pitiable state of health, nearly VOL. I. L 146 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES bed-ridden, helpless as an infant, and without a single relative to whom she could look for succour or conso- lation. Weighing these circumstances well, Charles Kean formed his determination, and sought an interview with his father, at the Hummums, Covent Garden, where he resided at that time, to bring matters to a final understanding. Edmund Kean was then precariously situated. He had dissipated his realised capital, and was living from day to day on the uncertain earnings, which might cease altogether with increasing infirmities. He still commanded a large salary when able to work, but his power of continuing that supply was little to be depended on. He told his son that there remained no alternative for him but to accept the offer of the cadet- ship ; that he would provide his Indian outfit, and this being done, he must depend thenceforth entirely upon his own exertions, and never apply to him for any future support or assistance. Charles replied that he was perfectly contented, and willing to embrace these conditions, provided something like an adequate allow- ^ ance was secured to his mother. Finding that his father no longer had it in his power to promise this with any degree of certainty, he respectfully, but firmly, told him, ! that he would not leave England while his mother lived, and declined, with thanks, the kind proposal of Mr. Calcraft. This answer excited the anger of the elder Kean tO: the highest pitch ; he gave way to the most intemperate' passion, and a painful scene ensued. " What will you do," said he, " when I discard you and you are thrown entirely on your own resources ? " . " In that case," replied the son, " I shall be compelled to seek my fortune on the stage (the father smile in derision) ; and though I may never rise to eminence OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 147 or be a great actor, I shall at least obtain a livelihood for my mother and myself, and be obliged to no one." The father stormed, repeating, almost with inarticulate fury, what he had often said before, that he was resolved to be the first and last tragedian of the name of Kean. The son endured a torrent of vituperation without losing his temper, or forgetting the respect which, under any circumstances, he felt to be still due to a parent. They parted, and from that horn- all intercourse between them was suspended. The result of this conversation was communicated through Mrs. Kean to Mr. Calcraft, and drew from that gentleman the following reply : — " Hanover Square, " February 27th, 1827. "Dear Madam, — "I confess it was a great disappointment to me, that you and your son refused (if it could be obtained) the cadetship to the East Indies ; for, after what you had said, I did not expect it. Yet, having been much pleased with your son's manner, and appear- ance, and being thoroughly sensible of his unprotected situation, I shall not withhold from him any services which may be in my power. Always wishing you to keep in mind that I am entirely without official interest, " I am, dear Madam, " Your obedient servant, "J. Calcraft." In the following July, when the Eton vacation came on, Charles Kean was informed that his accounts were paid up, his allowance stopped, and that he was not to return. A short time before this, a young nobleman, one of his intimate associates, with whom he had first l2 14» THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES become acquainted at Mr. Poleliampton's preparatory school, seeing him unusually dejected, inquired the cause. Kean, in the fulness of his heart, told him the result of his interview with his father, and that, in all probability, he should be driven to adopt the stage as his profession. " I quite approve of your resolution," said his aristocratic friend, " and commend you warmly for it ; but recollect this, if you do so, from that hour you and I must be strangers, as I never did, and never will, speak to or acknowledge an actor." He kept his word. About a year or so afterwards, when Charles Kean was fulfilling an engagement at Leamington, in Warwick- shire, the noble lord, finding himself in the same hotel, moved off instantly, bag and baggage, to avoid the unhallowed propinquity ; thus, at least, carrying out the consistency of his prejudice, without regard to personal convenience. Very fortunately, Charles Kean had contracted no private debts, a rare occurrence in an Etonian, and par- ticularly in one who had hitherto been well supplied with pocket money. He made his way to London, and hastened immediately to his mother's lodgings. He found her in sickness, in sorrow, and in poverty. A small yearly income, hitherto allowed by her husband, had been entirely withdrawn. They were without cash, and utterly destitute of resources. A more forlorn con- dition can scarcely be imagined. Precisely at this juncture, a misunderstanding arose between Edmund Kean and Mr, Stephen Price, the well- known American lessee of Drury Lane Theatre, and for the first time the great tragedian left his old theatrical home, the scene of his early triumphs, to engage with Mr. Charles Kemble at Covent Garden. Mr. Price, having heard how the son was situated, and thinking the name of Kean a powerful talisman, immediately OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 149 made him an offer of an engagement at Drury Lane Theatre for three years, with a salary of 10/. a-week, to be increased to 11?. and 12?. during the second and third years, in case of success. Such an offer appeared to drop from the clouds ; the heart of the young man bounded with hope, and the proposal was gratefully accepted. He stipulated, however, that he must first write to his father, who was then absent from London, and make him acquainted with the circumstance. Price approved of this, received the letter, and under- took to forward it ; but no answer was returned ; and there is reason to believe that the missive never reached the hands for which it was intended. Thus Charles Kean became an actor. Necessity, and not choice, determined his lot in life. How little does the world in general know of the secret springs of our actions. It judges by the surface only, and can seldom penetrate the hidden depths, or sound the under- currents, which, with controlling power, impel us on a course we otherwise might avoid, and never would have selected. For this act he was generally con- demned. Mr. Calcraft considered him as rash and ill-advised. His father's partisans denounced him as flying in the face of parental authority, wilful, thank- less, and disobedient. Some shrugged their shoulders, while others shook their heads, but none whispered a word of encouragement. And all because he would not leave a helpless mother without protection ; who, if his father had died suddenly during his absence, might have starved in her bed ! The future course of the young adventurer being now marked out, his first appearance on any stage took place at Drury Lane Theatre, on the opening night of the season, Monday, October the 1st, 1827. Youny Norval, in Home's tragedy of " Douglas," was the character 150 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES' selected for the occasion. He was yet under seventeen, and so complete a stripling in appearance, as well as in years, that the authorities of the theatre sat in council on the question of, whether he should be announced as Mr. Kean, junior, or Master Kean. He settled the point by rejecting the latter designation with the utmost disdain. On the Saturday night previous to his appearance, a dress-rehearsal was suggested by the manager, that he might " face the lamps " for the first time, and famili- arise himself with his stage costume. Many personal friends of ]\Ir. Price, with some members of the com- mittee, were piesent, who complimented him warmly on the success of this, his preliminary essay. While sup- ping afterwards in the manager's room, with true boyish feeling, he expressed a wish to show himself to his mother in the stage habiliments of Norval. The manager consented, but wondering that he still lingered in the theatre, drew from him, in a whisper, the reluctant confession that he was without the means of paying for a hackney coach. Price supplied the money, and young Kean flew to his mother's lodgings to display his finery, relate the encouragement he had received, and cheer her with the hopes and expectations with which he panted for the following Monday. The expected night arrived. Curiosity to see the sorif of the great actor, Edmund Kean, filled the vast theatr to overflowing. A first appearance before a Londoij public, in those days, and at one of the great nation£.| establishments, was a much more serious afiair than it at present — a trying ordeal even for the experienc* veteran, who might feel confident in his powers, had often tested their efi'ects. What then must it ha^ been to the unpractised novice, trembling at the sour! of his own voice, and unnerved even by the siglit of 'b OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 151 own name for the first time exhibited in print? The awful moment is come — he stands before the audience, fairly launched on the experiment of his life — he has no time to think of all that hangs on the issue of the next two hours, but must brace his spirits to the task, and sink or swim, according to the measure of his own unaided courage. The play was cast as follows : — Youiig Noi-val .... Mr. Charles Kean. {His first appearance on any stage.) Lord Randolph .... Mr. Mude. Glenalvon Mr. Wallack. Old Norval Mr. Cooper. Lady Randolph . . . Mrs. West. Anna Mrs. Knight. Young Norval does not appear until the opening of the second act. His entrance is preceded by that of the retainers of Lord Randolph, bearing in custody the faithless servant, " the trembling coward who forsook his master." The audience unluckily were led to mis- take the latter worthy for the new candidate, and greeted him with the rounds of applause intended for the hero of the evening. Here was another damper, for, in such situations, the veriest trifles have their effect. The debutant recovered himself notwithstanding, and went through his part, at the opening, with hesitating doubt, but as he warmed into the business of the scene, with courage and gi-adually increasing animation. Some un- prejudiced judges (and more than one were present who took an interest in his fate) could detect, even through all the rawness of an unformed style, and the embarrass- ment of a novel situation, the germs of latent ability, and the promise of future excellence. The audience received him throughout with indulgence, encouraged 152 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES him by frequent approbation, and called for him when the tragedy concluded. It was success certainly, but not decided success. Charles Kean felt, that although he had passed his examination with tolerable credit, he had neither carried away " high honours," nor achieved what in theatrical parlance is termed "a hit." On the following morning he rushed with feverish anxiety to the papers, and, without pausing, read them to his mother. His fate and hers, their future subsistence, the hope that sustained them, the bread they were eating, the roof that covered them — all lay in the balance — and all depended on the dictum of the all- powerful press ! It was unanimous in condemnation. !Not simple disapproval, or qualified censui-e, but sen- tence of utter incapacity — stern, bitter, crushing, and conclusive. There was no modified praise, no excep- tional encouragement, no admission of undeveloped faculties, no allowance for youth and inexperience. The crude effort of a school-boy was dealt with as the matured study of a practised man. The papers gave no quarter, but went in unanimously, to burn, sink, and destroy — an overwhelming fleet against a little light-armed gunboat. The hearts of both mother and son were struck with dismay — they wept in concert ; and Charles Kean's first impulse was to abandon the stage in despair. He hastened to Mr. Price, and proposed to cancel the engagement, but this the manager considerately declined, and urged him to persevere. Hope is ever strong in the heart of youth. In the morning of life the voice of cheering approbation impels more than the leaden tongue of censure can impede. For good or evil, to make or mar a fortune, the press, as an organ of critical opinion, is invested with tremen- dous power. How important then is it that such power OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 153 should be exercised by able delegates, with sound dis- cretion, and strict impartiality ! If ever there was a case in which the slow but unen-ing award of time has reversed a hasty judgment, that case stands prominently conspicuous in the position which Charles Kean has won for himself, in defiance of many obstacles, and in the teeth of reiterated discouragement. 154 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES CHAPTER IX. CHARLES KEAX AT DRUET LANE — HE LEAVES LONDON FOR PRACTICE IN THE COUNTRY HIS FIRST APPEARANCE IN DUBLIN — HIS CORDIAL WELCOME ANECDOTES OF THE DUBLIN GALLERIES INDULGENCE OF THE PUBLIC TO THE CAPRICES OF FAVORITE ACTORS — EDMUND KEAN AND THE AUDIENCE OF THE COBOURG THEATRE CHARLES KEAN AT GLASGOW — RECONCILIATION WITH HIS FATHER THEY PER- FORM TOGETHER FOR THE SON's BENEFIT, IN " BRUTUS" — NATURAL ACTING THE CONSUMMATION OF ART — TALMa's OPINION ON THIS POINT GARRICK AND DR. JOHNSON ANECDOTE NOT IN BOSWELL HARM- LESS VANITY OF ACTORS — MODERN CRITICISM ON GARRICK's KING LEAR — DAVIES, MURPHY, AND GALT, ON GARRICK — MISTAKES OF ANEC- DOTE-HUNTERS— GAERICK'S CAREER A VERY HAPPY ONE. On the day following Charles Kean's first appearance, a strenuous partisan of his father, supposed to be a writer of some critical ability, addressed the following letter to Edmund Kean, containing an account of what had taken place, with a prognostic as to the future. The letter becomes remarkable when compared with the sequel. " London, •2d Oct. 1827. " My DEAR Kean, — " I am sure you feel no other^\^se than anxious to know the result of last night's efi'ort on the part of your son. ' I pray you, Sir, take patience,' nor let the knowledge of the fact that he failed to attain, as he was taught to think he should, in one night, and with a single exertion,* that eminence which his father took * How could the writer, who was imacquainted with the boy, dive into thoughts wliich he never uttered even if he conceived them I — so much for prejudice. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 155 years of labour to secure, cause you one moment's uneasiness. I went to see his performance ; and send you by this post, in the Times newspaper, the best critique thereon : it is strictly correct. Every per- former that came on the stage in the first act was, by the favourable audience, taken for your son, and ap- plauded. Even the 'trembling coward/ who, as you remember, enters a short time previously to Young Norval, was loudly and vehemently greeted for ' Mr. Kean, jun.' When Charles first came on the scene, he was heartily received. He trembled exceedingly, sup- ported himself on his sword, and appeared to have much ado to retain his self-possession. He bowed to the audience several times, gracefully, and like a young gentleman of education. He gained his composure wonderfully, for in ten minutes he was so far recovered, that one would have supposed him to have been accus- tomed to the boards from his cradle. His voice is alto- gether puerile ; his appearance that of a well-made genteel youth of eighteen. His speech, ' My name is Norval,' he hurried, and spoke as though he had a cold, or was pressing his finger against his nose. His action, on the whole, better than could have been expected from a novice — I may say, in many instances gi-acefuL He made no points ; and copied your manner in attitude as much as possible. The particular applause bestowed was only in two instances, when he imitated your voice and style ; and his exit in the fourth act, with the words, ' Then let yon false Glenalvon- beware of me,' bordered upon the extreme of ludicrous. My conclusion is, that it was just such a performance as would have been highly creditable to a schoolboy acting in conjunc- tion with his companions, for the amusement of their parents on a breakiug-up day, and nothing beyond this. After the play he was called, and appeared, led on by 156 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Wallack, and bowed gracefully to all parts of the house. So much confidence had he by this time acquired, that he smiled, and smiled again, as though the laurelled crown were already on his head. I have given you as near a report as is in my power ; and I will add, that, even with this well-mustered audience, he would have left the stage for ever, but for the name he bore. He will draw one or two more good houses, and then, I fear, sink into nothingness. Though your son has, I suspect, completely failed to make a gi-eat, or even a good actor, the name of Kean will be handed down to posterity, as long as Shakespeare's play of ' Othello' is remembered." The youthful actor lingered at Drury Lane through the season of 1827-8, occasionally repeating the cha- racter of Norval, varied by Selim, in " Barbarossa," Frederick, in "■ Lovers' Vows," and Lotliaire, in Monk Lewis's tragedy of " Adelgitha," which last was revived when Mrs. Duff, an American actress, made her first appearance. The houses had ceased to be crowded ; his attraction dwindled to nothing ; the audience grew cold in their applause. The papers, whenever they conde- scended to notice him, continued their censure ; and, at length, almost heart-broken, he left London for the pro- vinces, that he might have a better opportunity of ob- taining the constant practice he so much required. On the 20th of April, 1828, Cliarles Kean presented himself to his warm-hearted countrymen, in Dublin, as Young Norval, and met with the cordial reception which might have been anticipated. His father had ever been one of their especial favourites ; and they remembered, with gratitude, how in 1822 he had given the proceeds of his benefit to relieve their starving peasantry. The humour of the Dublin gallery has long been proverbial ; but latterly it has received heavy checks from the OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 157 " exodus" and the temperance movement. To fmi suc- ceeded propriety, the police, politics, and poverty — poverty of wit engendered by vacuity of purse. Nothing checks the play of imagination more effectually than empty pockets. In 1827, there was yet fun enough left amongst the merry Olympians of the Irish capital, to astonish and amuse a stranger. No sooner had the play terminated, on Charles Kean's opening night, than he was unanimously demanded ; and having, under similar circumstances in London, merely made a silent bow and retired, he naturally thought the same pantomimic ac- knowledgment would pass muster elsewhere. Most unexpectedly, he was greeted by a general demand for " a speech.^^ Completely taken by surprise, he hummed and hawed for a moment or two ; then endeavoured to look grateful, placed his hand on his breast, and stam- mered out a few incoherent sentences, nearly as intel- ligible as the following : — " Ladies and Gentlemen, I am deeply sensible of your being quite unprepared — no, I don't mean that — I mean, of my being quite unpre- pared — overwhelming kindness — incapable of thanks — totally unmerited — never to be effaced — when time shall be no more." Here a friendly auditor cried out, " That will do, Charley ; go home to your mother ;" which produced a universal burst of approbation, during which he bowed himself off. As he disappeared at the wing, and the applause was dying away, a stentorian shout arose of "Three cheers for Charles Kean's speech!" which was taken up with overpowering effect. A volume might be filled with characteristic anecdotes of the Dublin gallery. Perhaps the introduction of two or three may not be considered irrelevant. On an occasion when the gods were overcrowded on a benefit night, a loud clamour arose for relief, or more accommodation. After becoming diplomatic delay, the 158 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES tardy manager appeared, and addressed them with the usual formula, "What is your pleasure?" "None at all !" roared out a dozen at once ; " but a d — d sight of pain, for we're all smothering here." A new piece by Power had not made a very success- ful impression ; however, as usual, he was vociferously called for at the close, and announced it for repetition with the customary plaudits. As he was retiring, an anxious admirer in the gallery called out, in a confiden- tial tone, " Tyrone, a word in private — don't take that for your benefit ! " In those days they had an indirect mode of hinting opinions, which they considered less personal than overt hostility. As thus : if Cobham was acting one of Warde's characters, in Warde's absence, after what he intended for a great effect, they would cry, " A clap for Warde!" in that particular speech, and vice versa. If a new piece bored them, they would demand " A groan for the performance ^i'mVa/??/.^" or tell the actors to " cut it short;" or fall back upon their never-complied-with cry for "Garry-Owen!" a tune which has been a bone of contention between the audience and the management ever since the memorable " races of Castlebar," in 179S, Mrs. Siddons was once interrupted in one of her greatest scenes by a vociferous demand for this same " Garry- Owen." She was utterly unconscious of what it meant ; but, anxious to gratify the " celestials," if possible, she paused, and asked solemnly, "What is Garry-Owen? Is it anything that I can do for you ?" There was an old actor at the Dublin Theatre, still living in 1825, named Michael Fullam, who died on the stage during the following year. He had outlived his powers, and was on very familiar terms with the gal- leries, who, knowing the tetchiness of his temper, per- petually tried to excite him, by shouting, " Speak up !" ii- OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 159 a favourite practice of tLeirs from time immemorial, and a natm*al one enough, when people have paid their money to hear, and the actors are mysterious. " Arrah, then, Mick Fullam, the divil a word can we hear ! Speak up, ould boy ! " The first time he would reply, sharply, but without halting in the scene, " I can't." If the call was repeated a second time: " I won't," angrily. If a third time : "'Be quiet, fools ! " in a burst of indig- nant reproof. Then ensued a roar of laughter, in which the whole house joined; and, by-and-by, a da capo of the same composition. This call was once urgently addressed to John Kemble, during his performance of the philosophic Prince of Denmark. Finding it impossible to comply, as his asthmatic tendency always compelled him to husband his lungs, he came forward at once, and said, " Gentlemen of the gallery, I can't sj>eak up; but if you won't speak at all, you'll hear perfectly every word I say." On the first night of a new play by Sheridan Knowles, not many seasons ago, a heavy explanatory scene was " dragging its slow length along," between two still heavier actors, who had no efifects to produce, and were unable to elicit them if they had. The audi- ence were evidently tired, though patient from respect to the name of the author, and now and then relieved themselves by an expressive yawn. There happened to be a momentary pause, when a voice from one of the gallery benches called out, in parliamentary cadence, " I move that this debate be adjourned to this day six months." This sally woke up the house, and prepared them to enjoy the more telling scenes which were about to follow. Every public has its own particular mode of expressing satisfaction or disgust, the usual symbols being applause or hissing, and sometimes 160 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES general somnolency. The latter is the most fatal. " Xou see they don't hiss," said a disciple of Voltaire to the great master, who had accompanied his pupil to witness the expected condemnation of his first tragedy, which the cynical wit had confidently predicted, — " you are mistaken for once, there is not a single hiss." " Not at present," replied Voltaire, " for they are all asleep." A troublesome customer in a thin pit, once adopted a strange mode of vindicating independent opinion. He amused himself and disturbed the rest of the audience, by lying nearly at full length, and hissing and applauding every speech from every actor, at the same time. After a desperate struggle he was removed to the police- office, and when interrogated by the local authorities as to why he had thus interrupted the performance, he said, " he didn't know, he meant no offence ; but he had always understood that any one who paid his money in a theatre had a right to hiss or applaud according as he pleased ; and he thought the fairest way of exercising his privilege was to keep on doing both together." It is amazing what the public will sometimes endure without anger, from favourite performers, when they are either taken by sm-prise, or the good-humoured vein predominates. George Frederic Cooke told the people of Liverpool to their teeth that they were a disgrace to humanity, and that every stone in their city was cemented by human blood — a figurative mode of con- veying that their commercial prosperity sprang from encouraging the slave trade. They saw that he la- boured under his " old complaint," and forgave the actor while they pitied the man. At Washington, in America, when the President had come expressly to see him in " Richard the Third," he flatly refused to com- mence his character, or act before the " King of the Yankee Doodles," as he called him, until the band had OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 161 played " God save the King," in addition to their own national air. And in this extravagance the stiff repub- licans actually indulged him ! During Elliston's ma- nagement of the Surrey Theatre, a very poor play was one niglit unequivocally condemned. He rushed from his dressing-room on the stage, under a tempest of disap- probation, and when silence was with difficulty restored, exclaimed, with a face of bewildered astonishment, " I thought I heard a hiss — unusual sound ! Ladies and gentlemen, you are under a very lamentable mistake here. I can assure you (and I think you will allow my opinion is worth something) this is a most excellent piece, and so you will find out when you exercise your unbiassed judgment, and have seen it three or four times. A British audience invariably gives fair play. With your kind permission, therefore, I shall announce the new drama for every evening until further notice." This address was received without a dissentient voice, and procured for the doomed play a long and success- ful run. But the climax of public endurance occurred with Edmund Kean, at the Victoria, formerly the Cobourg, on the Surrey side of the water. He had been tempted into the engagement by the large terms of 50/. per night. He opened in "Richard the Third" to an enormous house, and all passed off with great effect. On the second night he appeared as Othello, on which occasion lago was personated by Cobham, a prodigious Victoria favourite. The house was crowded as before, but noisy and inattentive. There were nearly twelve hundred persons in a gallery measured for about half the num- ber. The best speeches in the most striking scenes were marred by such unclassical expletives and inter- ruptions as a Cobourg audience were given to dispense, in those days with more freedom than politeness YOL. I. M 162 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES — by the incessant popping of ginger-beer bottles, and by yells of "Bravo, Cobliam!" whenever Kean elicited his most brilliant points. The great tragedian felt disconcerted, and by the time the curtain fell, he overflowed with indignation, a little heightened by copious libations of brandy and water. He was then loudly called for, and after a considerable delay came forward, enveloped in his cloak, his face still smirched, not more than half cleansed from the dingy complexion of the Moor, and his eyes emitting flashes as bright and deadly as forked lightning. He planted himself in the centre of the stage, near the footlights, and demanded, with laconic abruptness, "What do you want?" There was a moment's interval of surprise, when, " You ! you! " was reiterated from many voices. " Well, then, I am here." Another short pause, and he proceeded: Mf,^j " I have acted in every theatre in the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, I have acted in all the principal theatres throughout the United States of America, but in my life I never acted to such a set of ignorant, unmitigated brutes as I now see before me.": So saying, he folded his mantle majestically, made a! slight, contemptuous obeisance, and stalked ofl", with! the dignity of an oflended lion. The actors, carpenters] and property men, who listened to this harangue, stooc; aghast, evidently expecting that the house would be ton down. An awful silence ensued for a moment or two like the gathering storm before the tempest, when sucl denly a thought of deadly retaliation suggested itsel and pent-up vengeance burst out in one simultaneou shout of, "Cobham! Cobham!" Cobham, who wr evidently in waiting at the wing, rushed forth at one bowed reverentially, placed his hand on his heart aga' and again, and pantomimed emotion and gratitude aft the prescribed rules. When the thunders of applau; OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 163 subsided, lie delivered himself as follows : — " Ladies and gentlemen, this is unquestionably the proudest moment of mj life. I cannot give utterance to my feelings ; but to the latest hour of mj existence I shall cherish the remembrance of the honour conferred upon me by one of the most distinguished, liberal, and en- lightened audiences I ever had the pleasure of address- ing/' During the course of Charles Kean's first provincial tour, he found himself, while fulfilling an engagement at Glasgow, in close proximity to his father, who was then enjoying a term of relaxation in a cottage he had built in the Isle of Bute. Notwithstanding their es- trangement, the heart of the son yearned towards his parent, and he made an overture, through a third person, to pay him a visit. The proposal met with a ready assent, and his reception was more cordial than he an- ticipated. Little allusion was made to the past, and a temporary reconciliation took place. This led to a proposition from the elder Kean to act one niglit in the Glasgow theatre for his son's benefit, on the 1st of October, 1828 — by singular coincidence, the anniversary of his first appearance in London. They appeared as Brutus and Titus, in Howard Payne's tragedy of " Brutus." The house, as might be anticipated under such circumstances, presented a complete overflow, the receipts amounting to nearly £300. The strong interest of the play, combined with the natural acting of father and son, completely subdued the audience. They sat sufiused in tears during the last pathetic interview, d until Brutus, overpowered by his emotions, falls on the ca neck of Titus, exclaiming in a burst of agony, " Embrace aii thy wretched father ; " when they broke forth into the ttii relief of loud and prolonged peals of approbation. ,1)1 Edmund Kean then whispered in his son's ear, m2 184 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES "Charley, we are doing the trick." This may appear strange and inconsistent, perhaps unnatural, to those who persuade themselves that the accomplished actor must of necessity feel, at the moment, the full influence of the passion he is so eloquently expressing. Garrick may be cited as an eminent instance to the contrary. His superiority over Barry in Lear consisted chiefly in his power of simulating tears and sobs without sufiering them to impede his utterance, a perfection of art which his rival could never attain, from yielding too much to natural emotion. An enthusiastic admirer of Talma once said to him, " You must be deeply affected to produce such painful impressions on your audiences. How intensely you identify yourself with every character you represent." His reply embraced a lecture on his art. "Acting," said he, "is a complete paradox;" we must possess the power of strong feeling or we could never command and carry with us the sympathy of a mixed public in a crowded theatre ; but we must at the | same time control our own sensations on the stage, for iheir indulgence would enfeeble execution. The skilfal actor calculates his effects beforehand. He never improvises a burst of passion or an explosion ot grief. Everything that he does is the result of pre- arrangement and fore-thought. The agony which appears instantaneous, the joy that seems to gush forth involuntarily, the tone of the voice, the gesture, the look, which pass for sudden inspiration, have been re-^ hearsed a hmidred times. On the other hand a dull.' composed, phlegmatic nature, can never make a great actor. He who loves his profession and expects to excel in it, must study from himself, and compare his owi' proved sensations under grief, happiness, disappointment loss, acquisition, anger, pain, pleasiu-e, and all tin ordinary variations of human events and feelings, witl i OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 165 the imaginary emotions of the character he is supposed to represent." "Not long ago," he added, " I was playing in ' Misanthropy and Kepentance' with an admirable actress. Her natural and aiFecting manner, deeply studied nevertheless, quite overpowered me. She perceived and rejoiced in her triumph, but whispered to me, ' Eecover yourself, Talma; you are excited.'* Had I not listened to the caution, my voice would have failed, the words would have escaped my memory, my gesticulations would have become unmeaning, and the whole effect would have dwindled into insignificance. No, believe me, we are not nature, but art producing nature, and in the excellence of our imitation lies the consummation of skill." We have recorded the substance of similar opinions as expressed by Edmund Kean in more than one con- versation. He and Talma are great authorities on the art which they so eminently illustrated, although in this point laoth dissent from Horace, who, speaking poetically, says, " You must first weep yourself if you wish to excite compassion in others," " Si, vis me flere, dolendum est Primiim ipsi tibi." "Do you believe, Sir," said Boswell to Dr. Johnson, "that Garrick, as he says himself, is so carried away by artistic enthusiasm that he actually fancies he is RicJiard * Charles Young related to Campbell the poet, a similar effect pro- duced upon him by Mrs. Siddons, in the last scene of the " Gamester," ,j '; when as a young actor he was performing with her in that play in I Edinburgh. He was so carried away by her intensity that he totally '-* i forgot his part, until she whispered to him in a low tone ; " Mr. Young, t ; recollect yoiu'self." EUiston really persuaded himself that he was J : George IV., when he personated that monarch in the pageant of the .' : Coronation. As he crossed the platform along the front of the pit, 'l ' he invariably paused, and extending his hands benignly, said to the fit I audience, " Bless you, my people !" 166 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES the Third, every time he performs the character?" " No, Sir," replied the Leviathan, " David talks non- sense, and he knows it. If such a metamorphosis were possible, he would deserve the penalty of hanging every time it occurs." The philosopher knew his man ; and when Garrick rebuked him for talking loud with his friends during the performance, alleging that it disturbed his tragedy feelings, he replied with a laugh, " Pooh, pooh, Davy ; Punch has no feelings." But although Dr. Johnson delighted in teazing Garrick, by pretending to imdervalue the actor's art, and spoke slightingly of him in conversation with others, he never would suifer any one else to do so in his presence. " If I choose to decry David, Sir, is that any reason why I should suffer you to do so?" This was his stern rebuke to more than one " triton of the minnows" who thought to curry favour with him by echoing his senti- ments. When Garrick died. Dr. Johnson caused it to be conveyed to his widow that, if she expressed a wish to that effect, he would undertake the editorship of the works, and also write a memoir of his deceased friend. The lady, from whatever cause, remained silent, and the biography, which, in beauty of composition, and litei-ary value, might have rivalled the life of Savage, orDryden, or Milton, was doomed to execution by the hands of i Tom Davies and Arthur Murphy. An anecdote has escaped the diligence of Boswell, which may be found in a note to Sir W. Forbes's "Life; of Beattie." At Garrick's funeral, which moved in ostentatious display, attended by much that was dig- nified in rank, wealth, and literature, from liis residence! in the Adelphi to Westminster Abbey, Dr. Johnsoni rode in the same coach with Sir William Jones, to whom, and the rest of his companions, he talked incessantly as was his habit ; his theme being an uninterruptec M OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 167 eulogium on the departed actor, both in his public and private capacity. " Garrick," said he, " to my know- ledge, gave away more money than any man in England, with the same means. He was proud of his profession, and had a right to be so. Each owed much to the other. His profession made him rich, and he made his profession respectable." Actors, naturally enough, have an exalted idea of their own calling. But in this harmless vanity they are fully emulated by professors of the kindred arts. Baron, the great French tragedian, said " a tragic actor ought to be born amongst princes, and nursed on the laps of queens." The sentence is well rounded, and reads with an imposing air. Of him, the following hyperbole is gravely recorded. In pronouncing the two lines — " Et dans le meme moment par une action severe, Je I'ai vu rougir de honte, et pallir de colere ; " his panegyrist tells us that as he uttered the words rougir and pallir, his face alternately grew red and white. This was suiting " the action to the word" to an extent that Shakespeare never contemplated — a muscular trickery quite impossible, and utterly absurd if it could be contrived. The actor is merely repeating of another what he is by no means supposed to feel in his own person. This flight may stand side by side with the still higher one of a living theatrical critic, Alison, who, in one of his volumes, mentions that Garrick so studiously copied nature, that he acted Kiiig Lear on crutches, but threw them away to give more complete effect to the great scene. Where on earth did the in- genious essayist and historian find his authority for this extravagance ? We are told by many contemporaries that Garrick used a stick in acting Lear, such as is carried to this day by Shylock, Sir Giles Overreach, and 168 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Other elderly characters ; and for which Edmund Kean, and afterwards Macready, substituted a Saxon sceptre, or hunting-spear. When he came to the curse, if this is what is implied by the great scene, he dashed down this stick, with his cap, and clasped his hands con- vulsively together, as he fell on his knees in the agony of passion. Henderson, John Kemble, and Young, who followed in succession, adopted the same stage business, which appears to have descended lineally from Betterton, through Booth and Quin, to Barry and Garrick. Davies' "Life of Garrick" is little more than a dull register — a mere record of performances, unenlivened by incident or profitable reflection. Murphy's consists of little more than the margin. Gait's is a meagre sketch ; well supplied with en-oneous particulars, and, if possible, of less value than Murphy's. Compilations of personal anecdotes are always popular and entertaining, but not of necessity authentic. Sometimes they are confounded, or misapplied, or break down under the most conclusive of all evidences, when substantiated — an alihi. Your professed anecdote hunter is a dangerous individual to depend on, or quote from. He is, in fact, often a clap- trap actor, ready at any time to yield up the sense for the applause, or to dally with severe truth for the sake^^of a brilliant period, or an epigrammatic point. Let us look j for an instance or two, by way of illustration. How | often have we read that when the great Duke of Marl- ; borough was observed to shed tears at the imaginary ■ woes of Indiana, in Sir Richard Steele's weeping ; comedy of the " Conscious Lovers," it was remarked by \ the lookers on that " he would fight none the worse for I that." Now, how stands the fact? The case falls ' through on an alibi. The illustrious wan-ior died a few months before the play \ was produced, and was thus clearly otherwise engaged ; added to which, his i OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 169 fighting clays were over long before liis cleatli, and tlie last years of his existence passed in strict domestic privacy, clouded by mental prostration. Ireland, the biographer of Henderson, says, that in the winter of 1780, he appeared at Covent Garden as Sir John Brute ; but Mr. Garrick observed, " it was the city Sir John, for egad he had neither the air nor the manner of the rake of fashion." The anecdote slays itself, for Garrick died on the 20th of January, 1779, and thereby was incapacitated from giving an opinion on anybody's acting in the winter of the following year. Another clear case of alibi. Lord Byron sings in " Childe Harold," in imperishable verse, how the so- called Convention of Cintra was negotiated in the palace of the Marquis of Marialva, at that place ; and the entertaining author of the " Diary of an Invalid," im- proving on the story, detected on the table the stains of ink spilt by Junot on that occasion. The more accu- rate Napier (Peninsular War) destroys both fables, by showing to a demonstration that the preliminaries, details, and all particulars connected with the treaty, were discussed and arranged at a distance of twenty miles from Cintra, and had no more connexion with the abode of the Marquis of Marialva than with the imaginary Promontory of Noses, to which the traveller, on the dun- coloured mule, with the huge proboscis, was bound, in Sterne's indecent rhapsody. The Italian chronicler, Gregorio Leti, who came to reside in England during the reign of Charles II., soon gave out that he intended to employ himself in collect- ing materials for an anecdotal history of the reign of the merry monarch. The subject was fertile in incident, but likely to be very objectionable in substance. The King, observing him at one of the levees, asked him how his work went on. "I understand," said his Majesty, "that 170 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES you intend to deal largely in anecdotes of the English court; take care there be no offence." " Sire," answered the Italian, " I will do what I can, and will be as careful as possible ; but if a man were as wise as Solomon, he could hardly publish historical anecdotes without giving some offence." " Why, then," retorted Charles, " do you copy the wisdom of Solomon ; write proverbs, and leave history and anecdotes alone." It would have been well for Leti had he followed this sound adAdce from one of whom Rochester has recorded in a well- known epigram, that " he never said a foolish thing." But he followed his own bent instead, and published his book under the title of " Teatro Britannico." It gave outrageous umbrage in certain high quarters, and raised such a clamour about his ears, that he was ordered to quit the kingdom, which he forthwith did, and betook himself to Amsterdam, where he died in 1701. This same Gregorio Leti, however defective as a com- piler of annals or biography, is entitled to the praise of a most industrious labourer, in more fields than one. He boasted that for twenty consecutive years, without intermission, he presented the world annually with a child and a volume. As a writer of history, his authority is naught. His works of this class are too much overloaded with error and fiction to rank above ingenious romances. But many of his anecdotes are infinitely racy and amusing. In all probability they are founded on truth, which may account for their being so ill-received. All traders in anecdotes, particularly personal "Ana," should keep a constant eye on the caution which Leti disregarded. Garrick, with every allowance for his great merit, was undoubtedly what is called a lucky man. Life ran smoothly with him, for success was his constant com- panion. He suffered much in his latter days from more II OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 171 than one painful infirmity ; and liis retirement in afflu- ence and credit was cut short by the hand of death in three years, and at by no means an advanced age. He began to accumulate the fortune at an early period, which went on continually increasing. His favour with the public never declined; and though he was always in dread of rivals, none ever shook his acknowledged supremacy. His labour was comparatively light, and his performances far less numerous than the drudgery of the modern stage imposes on a leading actor and manager. From thirty to forty comprised the maximum during an average of many seasons. He made two professional visits to Dublin before his purchase of a share in Drury Lane ; but, with these exceptions, he never performed in any theatre out of London, after his fame was securely established. He was happy in his domestic life, although not blessed with children. He had his enemies and waspish detractors in common with all other men of talent. These annoyed him more than he should have permitted. Macklin, from personal pique, both wrote and spoke of him disparagingly; and Macklin, in so doing, was ungrateful as well as spiteful. Tate Wilkin- son records a specimen of his colloquial conversation, too coarse and vulgar for the pages of an otherwise respectable book ; and Kenrick, whose hand, like Ishmael's, was against everybody, provoked him by groundless insinuations, which were unworthy of notice. He had one or two riots in the theatre during a manage- ment of twenty-eight years, and sundry squabbles with the Gibber and the Clive. But his term of existence was nearly all sunshine, darkened only by passing clouds. Few who live by a profession have been so uniformly fortunate. That he deserved his good fortune is equally certain. With many trifling faults, such as vanity, and love of adulation, inseparable from his position, Garrick 172 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES was a kind-hearted, charitable man, an affectionate husband and relative, a firm friend, and far from an implacable enemy. As an actor, he stands unrivalled in the wide scope of his versatility. Others may have equalled, or even excelled him in particular characters or passages, but his range was more extensive than that of any individual who either went before or came after him. He was, perhaps, greater in comedy than in tragedy; but of the two leading divisions of the dra- matic art, it is easier to obtain a high degree in the college of Thalia than in that of Melpomene. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 17:; CHAPTER X. PALL OF THE BRUNSWICK THEATRE — LAMENTABLE LOSS OP LIFE, AND MANY SEVERE CASUALTIES — RELIGIOUS INFERENCES — CHARLES KEAN RETURNS TO DRURT LANE— APPEARS IN ROMEO DISCOURAGEMENT OF THE PAPERS, AND COLDNESS OF THE PUBLIC — VISITS THE COUNTRY AGAIN, AND ACTS WITH HIS FATHER IN DUBLIN AND CORK— AT THE HAYMABKET IN THE AUTUMN OF 1829 SUCCESS IN SIB EDWARD MORTIMER THE PRESS PRAISE HIM FOR THE FIRST TIME — VISITS AM- STERDAM AND THE HAGUE— THE MANAGER LEAVES THE COMPANY TO SHIFT FOR THEMSELVES — THEY ARE EXTRICATED BY A BENEFIT CHARLES KEAN's FIRST VISIT TO AMERICA IN 1830— HIS WARM RECEP- TION AND SUCCESS — DEATH OF ROBERT WILLIAM ELLISTON — HIS FIRST GREAT BENEFIT AT THE OPERA HOUSE HIS EXTRAVAGANT PROPEN- SITIES—EMBARRASSED AFFAIRS OF COVENT GARDEN THEATRE APPEAR- ANCE OF MISS FANNY KEMBLE — SHE RETRIEVES THE PROPERTY FROM BANKRUPTCY. On the 28tli of February, 1828, a lamentable event occurred in the east end of London, by the falling in of the iron roof of the New Brunswick Theatre, erected on the site of the old Royalty, which had been burnt down in 1827. This occurred, most providentially, in the day- time, about half-an-hour previous to a rehearsal^ when there were comparatively few persons within the build- ing. Eleven dead bodies were dug out of the ruins, and twenty-two still living sufferers ; more than one of whom died afterwards in hospital of the injuries they had received. Had this catastrophe taken place at night, during the performance, it is awful to think of the hundreds, perhaps thousands, that would have been immolated. Some overheated pietists, who are ever ready to "saddle with a judgment" (as Thwackum dealt with Square) whatever they happen to disap- 174 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES prove, loudly declared this accident to be a manifest instance of Divine anger, excited by the horrible profli- gacy and impiety of the stage. Similar sentences are pronounced without scruple, whenever any sudden calamity befalls a theatre or an actor. The Rev. John Duncan, Eector of Wimborne Minster, Dorset, in a treatise entitled " The Lawfulness of the Stage Inquired Into,'' published in 1787, quotes the burning of the great theatre at Amsterdam, while the audience were in it, — the Burwell Tragedy in 1727, when eighty persons were burned in a barn, while looking at a puppet-show — and a terrible fire in Wapping, by a pitch-kettle boiling over, all hands belonging to the yard having run into the street to see a dancing bear. He suras up as follows : — " If God had no hand in any of these evils, it is evi- dent he had none in preventing them." It is certainly not easy to parry this mode of reasoning, which affords a specimen of the antithetical style, sufficiently wide to embrace all imaginable casualties. When Covent Garden and Drury Lane were burnt m 1808 and 1809 — when Palmer died on the stage at Liverpool, and Cummins at York, — on these and simi- lar occasions, homilies were delivered and pamphlets printed, all declaring in plain terms that every case was " a judgment from Heaven !" When the Bruns- wick Theatre fell, a sei-mon was actually preached in the ruins before all the sufferers were removed or the extent of the mischief ascertained. But accidents such i as these have happened to churches and chapels dedi- ' cated to holy worship, to ministers in the exercise of i their sacred office, and to individuals at their private ! devotions. It would be difficult to find any voice suf- { ficiently bold or blasphemous to say, that the wrath [ of offended Heaven speaks in these instances also ; or to ' deduce from thence, arguments against preaching or OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 175 praying. Yet, on what ground shall such conclusions be demanded in the one case and denied in the other? What says Minutius Felix, in an early defence of Christianity? — " Fulmina passim cadunt ; sine delectu tangunt loca sacra et profana ; homines noxios feriunt, s^pe et religiosos." * Thunderbolts fall indifferently; they light upon places profane and sacred without any choice ; they strike good men and bad alike. Occur- rences of sudden death or misfortune are powerful argu- ments to arouse the thoughtless to reflection, or the profligate to repentance ; for such purposes we may suppose them to be intended, but we have no warrant to make arbitrary distinctions, or to build conclusions founded on bigotry or prejudice. A letter from Mr. Percy Farren, stage-manager of the Brunswick Theatre, printed with the farce called " An Uncle Too Many," contains some interesting par- ticulars relative to the sudden destruction of the building. He says : — '^ Previously to relating my share in the occurrences of that memorable morning, I must most distinctly state that, for myself, I never apprehended the slightest insecurity, nor did I ever hear an opinion that led to such a belief in others. It was about half- past eleven o'clock, after I had been for some time conversing with Mr. Maurice, the proprietor, in the front of his private box, on the opposite prompt side of the stage, upon the subject of some theatrical arrangements, that our attention was arrested by an almost indescri- bable discordant sound, which must have been heard in every corner of the building, and continued for several seconds. Upon looking upwards, whence it seemed to proceed, I observed the lustre falling. My poor friend rushed towards the centre of the stage, apparently to ascertain the cause of alarm, whilst I, almost without a * Minutius Felix, Octav. p. 14. Edit. Oxon. 1631. 176 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES consciousness of wliat I did, sprang into the box, and supported myself bj the outward pillar of the pro- scenium. In an instant, the whole fabric fell before me with an a^vful crash ; the iron roof buried all beneath it, and the sky was entirely open to my view. So com- plete appeared the work of death and destruction around me, that for some time I considered myself the only survivor of this fearful ruin, until, through the cloud of dust, I distinguished J^Irs. Yaughan's daughter, Miss Yates, severely wounded in the head, and heard her imploring me to save her. With some difficulty I succeeded in rescuing her from her perilous situation, and, on placing her by my side in the box, m'ged her grateful acknowledgments to the Almighty for her preservation up to that moment. The exact period that we remained in this precarious safety, every moment expecting destruction, I cannot conjecture : but my fervent gratitude may be conceived, when I at length saw som.e carpenters and other workmen climbing wounded and bleeding through the rubbish. Upon their recognizing me, I expressed my joy at their escape with life, and inquired if our danger was yet over. Their replies convinced me of the necessity of instant exertion, and amidst horrors and difficulties, which I shall not attempt to describe, I descended and found myself on my knees at the bottom of the ruins, with Miss Yates locked in my arms. Having recovered from the oppression on my feelings by a violent flood of tears, I was at length enabled to place my interesting S charge in a place of safety, and, thank Heaven ! provi- |, dentially escaped myself without any personal injury. I first informed Mrs. Vaughan of the preservation of her 1 1 daughter, and then, in a state of mind more easily con- ceived than described, went to inform my brothers of my own miraculous rescue. On my return to the scene OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 177 of terror I learned the confirmation of my worst fears in the irreparable loss of my most esteemed friend Mr. Maurice, and of the many others who died with him. At the moment when the calamity occurred I was too horror-struck, and my mind too entirely occupied with my own preservation for me to be competent to speak with any accuracy of the escape of those who happily, like me, live to be gi-ateful for it. The number of persons then in the theatre I am also unable to state with any confidence ; though there certainly could not have been more than from twenty to thirty-five on the stage ; and, 1 should say, scarcely more than the same number in other parts of the building." Charles Kean resumed his engagement at Drury Lane a few days before the Christmas of 1828. His country tour had given him practice and confidence. On the 115th of December, a young lady of great promise (a pupil of Mrs. St. Ledger), named Phillips, was announced as a first appearance in Juliet. Price, the manager, J i{ thought that it would be injudicious to risk the appear- ;,. !j ance of two novices on the same night ; and intimated ft i to the expectant Romeo that a more experienced hand ii{ li must be selected for the first performance, but that he J il should take his place on the second. The mortification 1,(1 |1 was great, but inevitable ; so nothing remained but to digest it, and feed on hope. The chosen Montague was of the genus respectahle, a term liateful to the actor to whom it is applied, but popular with some critics, who thereby think they express considerable excellence. He was neither youthful, nor fascinating, nor elegant, but he was, safe; and nothing more was required or expected. Kean sat in the front of the house, and looked on with ,^j. jinterest, and something of the natural jealousy which ^uj' arose from seeing his post occupied by another. He , marked, with inward satisfaction, that the slaying of VOL. I. N 178 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Tybalt passed off without notice. It was tame and business-like. He, however, expected to produce a great point here, hj rapid, graceful fencing, and a striking atti- tude. On that day week he came to the trial. When he rushed furiously on Tyhalt, and after two or three tremendous thrusts, stood bewildered over his fallen enemy, the house thundered down their plaudits, and the actor's heart beat high with exultation. On the following morning an influential paper, speaking in ge- neral condemnation of Mr. Kean, junior, observed of this particular passage, that Mr. would have been a much more effective representative of Romeo, judging by the immense applause he received in the fall and death of such a comparatively inferior part as Tybalt, On Boxing-night, as it is called, " Lover's Vows '^ was revived, when Miss Ellen Tree, the future Mrs. C. Kean, acted Amelia Wildenhaim ; this being the first time of their meeting together on the stage. Fortune was not yet prepared to smile on Charles |, Kean's efforts. The press continued to discourage, and | the public neglected him. He remained a member of the company, but his services were seldom required. He was evidently of no importance to the management, and felt that he was losing his own time. He, therefore, took the first opportunity of again visiting the provinces, for the sake of hard study and frequent practice. In thej course of the summer he acted with his father in Dublin}' and Cork, appearing as Titus, Bassanio, Wellborn, lago. Icilius, and Macduff. In October, 1829, he accepted an offer from Mr. Morris.H of the Haymarket Theatre, to play six nights, during the concluding fortnight of the season, for which he was' to receive 20/. He commenced as Reuben Glenroy ; actec Romeo twice to Miss F. H. Kelly's Jidiet ; Frederick, ir "Lovers' Vows;" and Sir Edward Mortimer in th( OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 179 " Iron Chest." For the first time he felt that he had succeeded. Tlie latter play was repeated on the closing night of the season, with increased effect and attraction. The papers afforded him positive praise. He could scarcely believe it real. Mr. Morris was so struck with the effect he produced in Sir Edward Mortimer, that he offered to engage him permanently for such parts in heavy tragedy as Richard and Macbeth, telling him that he would find his true bent in that line, Charles Kean, with sound judgment, de- clined the tempting ofier, and replied to the manager's proposal that, though such was his ambition, he knew that he required more experience before he could en- counter the risk. During the early part of 1830, he visited Amsterdam and the Hague, with an English company, under the management of an adventurer named Aubrey ; being tempted by an offer of 20?. per week, which his employer evidently had no intention of paying, and of which, with the exception of a few pounds at the commencement, he never received a penny. After a short experiment of about three weeks, Aubrey decamped, leaving his actors without funds, and in rather an awkward predicament, to shift for themselves. As their only resource, they announced a general benefit at Amsterdam, to which the King of Holland contributed by a handsome present. The receipts were doled out in due proportion, and the modicum allotted to Charles Kean enabled him to return to England, by way of Calais. He now began to feel his strength ; his powers were called forth by exercise ; and he had obtained a mastery over the mechanical part of his profession — a knowledge of " stage business," jjjwhich severe apprenticeship only can accomplish. He g,j therefore determined to try his fortune in America ; and, accordingly, crossed the Atlantic, and appeared at the >iles erol ,He t,aDl •efoie, inces, Iitk Dai Jf llorris i»*f 180 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Park Theatre, New York, as Richard the Thirds in the early part of September, 1830. The name of Kean was already well known to our transatlantic descendants ; not only by the voice of fame, but by the two visits of his father, who had produced a most powerful and permanent impression throughout the United States. They were prepared to greet the son with warm cordiality. His reception was all he could desire. Everywhere he attracted numerous audiences, and gained applause, with a solid accompaniment of dollars. His hopes revived in proportion. It was no small triumph for a lad, still under twenty, to establish an enduring American reputation, in such characters as Richard the Third, Hamlet, Romeo, SirEdward Mortimer, and Sir Giles Overreach. Some few years later, at a public dinner in Waterford, he spoke thus of the encouragement which hailed him on his first visit to America : — " Thrown before the public by untoward circumstances, at the early age of sixteen and a-half, encompassed by many difficulties, friendless, and untutored, the efforts of my boyhood were criticised in so severe and spirit- t crushing a strain, as almost to unnerve my energies, and j drive me despairingly from the stage. The indulgence 1 usually extended to novices was denied to me. I wasj not permitted to cherish the hope that time and study j could ever enable me to correct the faults of youthful! inexperience. The very resemblance I bore to my lateJ father was urged against me as an offence, and con-<, demned as being 'strange and unnatural.' Sick at,| heart, I left my home and sought the shores of America.! f To the generous inhabitants of that far land I am in-i debted for the first ray of success that illumined mji clouded career." During Charles Kean's absence in America, an actci OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 181 of great and varied abilities, Robert William Elliston " shuffled off this mortal coil." He died July the 7th, 1831, aged fifty-seven, and was buried on the 15th of the same month, at St. John's Church, Waterloo Road. At the time of his decease, he was manager of the Surrey Theatre, where he made his last appearance as Sheva, on the 24th of June. He was announced in the bills for 3Iegrim, on the 28th, but his rapid illness interfered, and the public saw him no more. Elliston, in his best days, was a most fascinating, brilliant performer, with powers nearly as universal as those of Garrick. Perhaps this universality injured his fame. His comedy was superior to his tragedy, although he succeeded in the arduous character of Sir Edward Mortimer, in which John Kemble had signally failed. His early reputation, like that of Henderson and Mrs. Siddons, was won in Bath. During the height of his popularity he was engaged in London, and through a part of the same season, acted in both places, running backwards and forwards as he was wanted. This rapidity of locomotion, in the old days of heavy coaches, obtained for him the name of the " Telegraph," or " Fortnightly Actor." But the arrangement was found to be incon- venient as well as unprofitable to all parties, and was soon abandoned. Having performed at the Haymarket for several seasons during the summer, he at length appeared at Drury Lane, to contest supremacy Avith Kemble, as RoUa, in " Pizarro ; " being engaged to assume the leading line in both departments of the drama. His success was so great that he took his first benefit at the Opera House — Drury Lane not being large enough to accommodate the expected overflow. The house was literally carried by assault. At every entrance the rush was so over- whelming that the door-keepers, money-takers, and 182 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES assistants, were swept before it, and a scene of confusion ""' ensued, not easy to describe or understand. Fortunately no accident occurred. An address was made from the stage by the actor, and hats were handed round to collect the price of admission from those who had been forced in without the option of disbursement. The receipts reached 600/. ; but if all the places occupied had been fairly paid for, they would have exceeded 1000/., being the largest sura ever levied on the public by any per- former on the occasion of his benefit. EUiston was the original DuJce Ai'anza in the " Honey- moon ;" a part exactly suited to him in all its points, and in which he has never been equalled. He had a fine, full-toned voice, and though sometimes inflated and ex- travagant in tragedy, he delivered a sentiment, or an occa- sional didactic speech in comedy, with an effect peculiar to himself. ]\Irs. Inchbald, a professed theatrical critic, engaged to write prefatory notices for an edition of the " British Theatre," says, in her remarks on the "Honey- , moon," " Mr. EUiston's Duke is most excellent through \ all his different scenes ; and the character requires abili- i ties of so varied and forcible a natm-e, that to represent j him perfectly in all the vicissitudes of his honeymoon! is to possess powers of acting equal to the personation of* every comic, and almost every tragic hero on the stage."' When we consider that this is written of a part tliat; never soars beyond level speaking, of which the leading! attributes are ease, elegance, humour, and firmnessi mingled with affection — but, at the same time, utterlj' untinctured by a scintillation of the terrible passionsi which rend Othello, Macbeth, Lear, or Richard — we lif* up our hands in wonder at the hyperbolical summary, anc! think what strange judgment it must be that could ruii into such a ridiculous extreme. You may cull a hundrecjf first-rate Duke Aranzas before you reach one passablf. m ialuM OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 183 Hamlet, Shylocl:, or Jaffier. A criticism delivered on Edmund Kean, when he plajed the Dulce in the " Honey- moon," is almost as good as Mrs. Inchbald's. " Well, Tom, how did you like it ? " " Oh ! it was magnificent : Kean's dancing is glorious itself, by Jupiter ! " EUiston's last appearance at Drury Lane occurred in May, 1826, when he twice performed Falstaff, in " King Henry the Fourth." Great expectations were excited which were not realized. He possessed every requisite for the part, and ought to have surpassed Henderson, or any living representative. He rehearsed, splendidly, but failed when it came to the acting. Long habits of dis- sipation had impaired his powers before their legitimate time of decay — for he was then only fifty-two ; but he had become careless, vulgarized in style, and slovenly in his delivery of the text of his author. In the same manner he had dilapidated his fortune by an inveterate indulgence in gambling — a vice in itself sufficient to exhaust the treasury of Croesus down to the most imper- ceptible residuum. Amongst his best parts, while in his zenith, may be reckoned, VajMur, Captain Absolute, Sylvester Daggerwood, Walter, Sheva, Octavian, Rolla, Fitzharding, in the " Curfew," Sir Edward Mortimer, Young Rajnd, Dr. Pangloss, Rover, Ranger, Vapid, Ahednego, Boh Handy, Tangent, Belcour, the Three Singles, Jeremy Diddler, Duke Aranza, Felix, in the " Hunter of the Alps," and Mercutio. He failed utterly in Wolsey and Lord Toimly. So did Garrick in Marplot, Gil Bias, and Othello. Elliston was treated very shabbily by the Drury Lane proprietors, or committee. He laid out many thousands in remodelling and improving the theatre ; but because he fell into a small arrear of rent, they kicked him out unceremoniously, for which act of gross injustice, retri- bution came on them in due com'se. 184 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES It has too often been the destiny of large theatres to become a prey to the Fire King, or to be engulphed in the devouring whirlpool of the Bankniptcy Court. The latter fate had nearly anticipated the former, at Covent Garden, in the year 1829. The newspapers said in Au- gust, " The affairs of Covent Garden continue in a bad state. Yesterday the magistrates at Bow Street signed distress warrants for 896/. for arrears of parish rates, and the King's Collector is now in possession for assessed taxes, due to the amount of above 600/." Then the ground landlord came in, and the walls were placarded with bills of sale by auction. The hammer of George Eobins stood ready elevated, and the " incomparable stock" appeared to be on the very eve of dispersion. The proprietors made a last cogent appeal to the public, and the appeal was responded to. In September new para- graphs appeared, to this effect : — " It is said that the ruin which would be consequent on the sale of the fine wardi'obe, splendid scenery, glasses, chandeliers, and decorations of Covent Garden Theatre, is likely to be averted, by the interference of three or four persons of high rank and consideration." And again : — " The subscription for opening Covent Garden Theatre proceeds admirably. Several persons of rank and respec- tability sent various sums yes+erday to the Committee." " The King's Theatre was thronged to an overflow on Friday, in aid of the Covent Garden subscription fund. The net proceeds amount to 750/." Charles Kemble, on the 9tli of September, wrote to the author of these pages as follows : — *' You will, I know, be delighted to hear that my appeal has been answered with even more success tlrnn our most sanguine hopes had anticipated. The stone is set rolling, and, I doubt not, will gather marvellously.' I OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 185 On the 5t]i of October, the theatre opened, when Miss Fanny Kemble made her first appearance as Juliet — her father as Mercutio, — and her mother, Mrs. C. Kemble, returning to the stage for that night, to support her daughter, — as Lady Ccqmlet. Abbott, in the absence of a better, Avas specially retained for Romeo. At the bottom of the bill it was said, — " Miss Kelly has consented to perform gratuitously for ten nights. Miss Foote has also given her services for ten nights. Mr. T. P. Cooke has offered to act six nights, and Mr. Kean will act three nights gratuitously, on his return to London." Miss F. Kemble proved so attractive that she enabled the proprietors of Co vent Garden, in a single season, to pay off 13,000/. of pressing debt. Her characters were Juliet, Belvidera, Euphrasia, Mrs. Beverley, Portia, and Isabella. The papers were extravagant in her praise, and the public received her with enthusiasm, bordering on affection. The impression that she came forward to save the theatre, and to retrieve the affairs of her father and family, added materially to the interest of her per- formances. Her talent was extraordinary, and her suc- cess well-merited ; but it was impossible that at nineteen, without an apprenticeship, she could be either Mrs. Siddons or Miss O'Neill, although there were not want- ing over-heated admirers who said she was both. What somebody christened her Canova, in Juliet, we always considered a terrible mistake. In the fourth act, when during the soliloquy w^hich precedes her taking the potion, she fancies that she sees the ghost of her cousin Tybalt, she ran down from the back of the stage to the right-hand corner of the proscenium, under the stage- box ; and there threw herself into an attitude upon one knee as if driving the apparition before her. Even so under the old conventional system, Macbeth was accus- tomed to bully the spirit of the intruding Banquo at the 186 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES royal feast (tlie said spirit being usually personated by a stout gentleman), step by step, from o. p. to P. s. In both cases nature was equally forgotten. We recoil from an object of terror instead of rushing madly to grapple with it. But, to redeem the false reading, Fanny Kemble's ^^ Do it!''' in the "Hunchback" was really magnificent. „ CEUL OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 187 CHAPTEE XL RETIREMENT OF MRS. DAVENPORT AND FAWCETT EASY MANAGEMENT FIFTY TEARS AGO — FAWCETT'S BRUSQUE MANNER AND LITERARY CENSOR- SHIP — NICOLO PAGANINI — HIS VISIT TO ENGLAND AND IRELAND — ANEC- DOTES AND ECCENTRICITIES OF THE GREAT VIOLINIST — RETIREMENT OF CHARLES YOUNG — SUMMARY OF HIS PRIVATE AND PROFESSIONAL CHARACTER. During the season of 1829-30, at Covent Garden, Mrs. Davenport and Fawcett took leave of the stage. The lady was an excellent actress in her proper line of comic old women, which she never stepped from, either through vanity or the occasional exigencies of the theatre. She originally acted, as a child, at Bath, when Miss Harvey, as far back as December 21st, 1784. As Mrs. Davenport, she appeared in London, in the character of Mrs. Hard- castle, on the 24th of September, 1794. On the 29th of May, 1830, she retired, after thirty-six years of faithful and unremitting service. The last performance was for her own benefit, as the Nurse in " Romeo and Juliet." John Fawcett was the son of an actor who held a situation of minor importance at Drury Lane. At the age of fifteen he was apprenticed to a linen-draper, but left the shop clandestinely for the Margate theatre, where he assumed the name of Foote, and commenced a busi- ness more congenial to his taste. He afterwards joined Tate Wilkinson in the York circuit, and in 1791, made his bow to a London audience, at Covent Garden, as Caleh in "He would be a Soldier." His reputation advanced rapidly by his performances of Ollapod, Dr. Pangloss, 188 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES and Caleb Quotem. Volubility and distinctness of utter- ance were amongst his natural requisites, and these were particularly essential in the above-named parts. There is an admirable portrait of him, by Clint, in the collection of the Garrick Club, as CajJtain Copp, with Charles Kemble as the King, in a scene from " Charles II." In this character, which he had played with great success, he bade farewell to the public on the 20th of May, 1830. Fawcett was the original Job Thornberry, in " John Bull," a part which furnished an excellent specimen of his peculiar style. Munden was called to the reading, having been told by Colman that he had measured him to a hair. He expected Job Thornberry, and chuckled with delight as the reading proceeded ; but great was his indignation when, at the close. Sir Simon Rochdale was put into his hand. This he peremptorily refused, and it was then transferred to Blanchard, to whom it proved a valuable step in the ladder of promotion. The original cast of " John Bull" is worth remember- ing, as a sample of how plays were acted at Covent Garden under the government of the elder Harris ; Job Thorn- berry, Fawcett ; Hon. Tom Shujfleton, Lewis ; Peregrine^ Cooke ; Dennis Brulgruddery , Johnstone ; Sir Simon Rochdale, Blanchard ; Frank Rochdale, H. Johnston ; Dan, Emery ; Lord Fitz-Balaam, Waddy ; Mai-y Thorn- berry, Mrs. Gibbs; Lady Caroline Braymore, Mrs. H. Johnston ; and Mrs. Brulgruddery, Mrs. Davenport. All these were first-rate artists in their respective lines. No single theatre in the present day could produce anything like a parallel. The play, brought out in March, 1803, ran forty-eight nights the first season — an enormous longevity fifty years ago. The name (" John Bull ; or, an Englishman's Fireside") was happily chosen at the time, as the whole nation was in arms to resist the threat OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 189 of French invasion at the commencement of the war; but the piece contained not the most remote allusion to politics or public affairs. Cooke said of this comedy (in Dunlap's "Memoirs"), " We got ' John Bull ' from Colman, act by act, as he wanted money, but the last act did not come, and Harris refused to make any further advances. At last, neces- sity drove Colman to make a finish, and he wrote the fifth act in one night, on separate sheets of paper. As he filled one piece after the other, he threw them on the floor, and finishing his liquor, went to bed. Harris, who impatiently expected the conclusion of the play, accor- ding to promise, sent Fawcett to Colman, whom he found still in bed. By his direction, Fawcett picked up the scraps, and brought them to the theatre." An improve- ment on this story is told of Sheridan and " Pizarro." It has been said, that the last act was not finished when the curtain drew up on the first night, and that the parts were delivered to the actors before the ink was dry, and during the progress of the performance. Those were halcyon days for managerial exchequers, when a single comedy such as "John Bull," the "Heir- at-Law," and the "Poor Gentleman," was considered novelty enough for an entire season. No new scenery was looked for, and the dresses were a mere nothing. There was no previous outlay of two or three thousand pounds, before a shilling could revert to the treasury. - Fawcett succeeded Lewis as stage-manager at Covent Garden, and filled that unenviable office for many years, with as much popularity as belongs to the post. The stage-manager is the adjutant of the establishment. If he does his duty to the commanding-officer, he is hated by the corps. If he sides with the rank and file he be- comes suspicious to the chief. In private life Fawcett •was kind-hearted and irreproachable ; but in his official 190 THE LIFE AND THEATPaCAL TIMES capacity tliere was a quickness of manner which some- times appeared like intentional rudeness. A performer in his own line, and of equal talent, once said to him that he disliked a new part; "You are not engaged to like your part," replied Fawcett, "you are engaged to act it." He was not profound in erudition, and some whimsical stories have been told of his proposed amend- ments in the elocutionary defects of careless actors : amongst others, the late William Abbott used to declare that the stage-manager publicly rebuked him at a re- hearsal for saying " imminent danger," informing him that the adjective should be " eminent." Fawcett possessed much versatility, and many of his delineations were as perfect as art and strong conception could render them. He could either melt the heart with pathos, or stimulate mirth with keen discriminating hu- mour. As an instance of the homely pathetic, his Bolamo, in " Clari," was excellent. His Falstaffs were loudly praised ; while his Touchstone was considered by many equal to Kjing's. Neither were his Lord Ocjhhij and Sir Peter Teazle much behind in the race ; until William Farren, in a sharp contest, left him in the rear, and came in at least neck-and-neck with the original. We may here ask permission to step aside a little from our regular course, to mention a most extraordi- nary phenomenon who visited England for the first time in 1831 ; and though not a member of the English stage, becomes connected with its history from having exhi- bited his rare talent in several leading theatres. We allude to Nicolo Paganini, the inimitable violinist. He came with a prodigious introductory flourish, a vast con- tinental reputation, and a few personal legends of the most exciting character. It was said that he had killed his wife in a fit of jealousy, and made fiddle-strings of her intestines ; and that the devil composed a sonata for 1 OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 191 him in a dream, as he formerly did for Tartini. When you looked at him you thought all this and more very likely to be true. His talent was almost supernatural; while his " get up," or mise en scene, as the French have it, was original and unearthly — such as those who saw him will never forget, and those who did not can with difficulty conceive. The man and his performance were equally unlike anything that had ever been witnessed before. No picture or description can convey an ade- quate idea of his mode of entrance and exit. To walk simply on and off the stage appears a common-place operation enough ; but Paganini did this in a manner of his own, which baffled all imitators. When he placed himself in position to commence, the crowded audience became hushed into a death-like silence ; and the thou- sands present gazed in motionless fascination on that strange epitome of many contrasted attributes. They took in at a glance his black habiliments ; his sallow, attenuated visage ; his chiselled features, Satanically ex- pressive ; his long, silky, raven tresses, and the flash of his dark eye as he shook them back on his shoulders ; his thin, transparent fingers, unusually long ; the fashion after which he grasped his bow, with the tremendous length to which he drew it ; and, climax of all, the antithetical suddenness with which he jerked both bow and instrument under his arm, while he threw his hands behind him, elevated his head, his countenance almost writhing under what was meant for a smile of ecstacy, and his very hair instinct with life, at the conclusion of a bewildering fantasia ! And there he stood, immovable and triumphant, while the theatre rang again with peals on peals of applause, and shouts of the most excited en- thusiasm ! None who witnessed this are likely again to see the same effect produced by mere mortal agency. The one string feat was unworthy of this great master 192 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES in his art. It has been performed by fifty others, and is at best but an imperfect exhibition on a perfect instru- ment ; a mere piece of charlatanerie, or theatrical " gag," to use a professional term, sufficiently intelligible. There have been, and are, mighty magicians on the violin. Spagnoletti, De Beriot, Ole Bull (who, according to some, plays without any string at all), Sivori, Joachim, Ernst, and others, are all in the list of fine players ; but there never was a second Paganini. In Dublin, during the autumn of 1831, Paganini saved the musical festival, which would have foiled utterly but for his individual attraction, although supported by an array of talent in every department. The festival was ]ield in the Theatre Eoyal, then, as now, the only building in the city capable of accommodating the vast numbers which alone could render such an experiment remunerative. The arrangement was to have oratorios kept distinct on certain mornings, and miscellaneous concerts on the evenings of other days. The concerts were crushers, while the first oratorio was a break-down. Many who would listen to sacred music in a church, or hall, objected to enter a theatre ; but both cathedrals had been refused on application. The committee be- came alarmed ; the expenses were enormous, and heavy liabilities stared them in the face. There was no time to be lost in hesitating scruples, and at the second oratorio, duly announced, Paganini appeared, violin in hand, in front of the orchestra, on an advanced platform overhanging the pit, not unlike orator Henley's tub, as immortalized by the satiric poet. Between the acts of the " Messiah " and the " Creation," he fiddled " The Witches at the great Walnut-tree of Benevento," with other equally appropriate interpolations, to the extatic delight of the applauding majority, who cared not a pin for Haydn or Handel, but came to hear Paganini alone; I, OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 193 and to the no small scandal of the pious few, who looked upon the episode as too much on the north side of con- sistency. But expediency carried the day ; the money was thereby forthcoming, everybody was paid in full, the committee escaped without damage, and a hazardous speculation undertaken by a few spirited amateurs was wound up with deserved success. When the festival was over, the town empty, and a cannon-ball might have been fired down Sackville-street without doing much injury, Paganini engaged himself for a series of five concerts, in the theatre. For these he received 1,143/. His dividend on the first night amounted to 333/. The terms he demanded, and ob- tained, were a clear two-thirds of each receipt ; twenty- five guineas per night for Pio Cianchettini, a poor pianoforte player, and a Signora Pietralia, a vocalist who could not sing at all ; the full value for every free ticket, and an express codicil to the agreement, that if he required a rehearsal on a dark morning, when extra light might be indispensable, the expense of candles should not fall on him ; — a contingency which by no possible contrivance could involve a responsibility ex- ceeding five or six shillings. Paganini was in all respects a very singular being, and an interesting subject for study. His talents were by no means confined to his wonderful powers as a musician. On other subjects he was well informed, cute, and conversable, of bland and gentle manners, aslbind in society perfectly well bred. All this contrasted ii;ji3trangely with the dark stories that were bruited abroad, itLtouching some passages in his early life. But outward ill semblance and deportment are treacherous quicksands, atitlwhen taken as guides by which to sound the real depths piilDf human character. Lord Byron has told us that his gjiDOcket was once picked by the civilest person he ever I VOL. I. Him '. 194 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES conversed with, and that by far the mildest individual of his acquaintance was the remorseless Ali Pacha of Yanina. The same has been said of Djezzar, the butcher of Acre, who, as Mrs. Flockhart says of Fergus 1 l«i>ij M'lvor, was reputed to be "a quiet, weel-spoken ff^" gentleman, when not in ane o' his deevilish tirrivies." The expressive lineaments of Paganini's face told a powerful tale of passions which had been fearfully :j excited, which might be raised again from temporary jt , slumber, or were exhausted by indulgence and premature \m\*k decay, leaving deep furrows to mark their intensity, jbem Like the aggregate of his countrymen, he looked much older than he was. Born at Genoa in 1784, he was in his forty-seventh year at the time of his first visit to England. With Italians in general, the elastic vigour of youth and manhood rapidly subsides into a protracted and joyless old age, numbering as many years, but with far less of physical and mental faculty to render them endurable, than the more equally poised gradations of our northern clime. It is by no means unusual to meet a well-developed Italian, whiskered to the eye- brows,and "bearded like the pard," who tells you, to your utter astonishment, that he is scarcely sixteen, when you have set him down from his appearance as, at least, five and-thirty. The women are full grown at thirteen,|: begin to decay at two or three and twenty, and thei: become speedily old, but never die. An ancient marchesai_ or duchess, is as immortal as her diamonds. Paganini's father, who was a commission broker bji trade, but a great admirer of music, initiated his son ii %, the principles of the art at a very early age, and a he grew up, placed him successively under the abl instructions of Costa, Rolla, and Paer. His first pre fessional appearance was at Lucca, where he foun a zealous patroness in the Princess Elisa Bacciocch OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 195 sister of Napoleon, The following extract from Colonel Montgomery Maxwell's book of military reminiscences, entitled, " My Adventures," dated Genoa, February 22d, 1815, supplies the earliest record which has been given to the public respecting Paganini, and affords authentic evidence that some of the mysterious tales which heralded his coming, were not without foundation: — " Talking of music, I have become acquainted with the most outre^ most extravagant, and strangest character I ever beheld, or heard, in the musical line. He has just been emancipated from durance vile, where he has been for a long time incarcerated on suspicion of murder. There is something scriptural or Jewish in the tout ensemble of the strange physiognomy of this uncouth and unearthly figure. Not that, as in times of old, he plays, as Holy Writ tells us, on a ten-stringed instru- ment : on the contrary, he brings the most powerful, the most wonderful, and the most heart-rending tones from one string. His name is Paganini ; he is very improvi- dent, and very poor. The D 's and the Impresario 'V9 of the theatre got up a concert for him the other night, : which was well attended, and on which occasion he electrified the audience. He is a native of Genoa, and if I were a judge of violin playing, I should pronounce liim the most surprising performer in the world." That Paganini was either innocent of the charge for \vhich he suffered the incarceration Colonel Maxwell mentions, or that it could not be proved against him, aiay be reasonably inferred from the fact that he es- . iaped the galleys or the executioner. In Italy there was hen, (whatever there may be now), an exclusive law "or the rich and another for the poor. As he was vithout money or friends, and unable to buy immunity, t is charitable to suppose he was entitled to it from nnocence. A nobleman, with a few zecchini to bribe 02 196 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES the court, was in little danger from the law, which confined its practice entirely to the lower orders. In , 1814, a Sicilian prince, who afterwards became a sort of fashionable lion in London for a season, most wantonly blew a vassal's brains out, merely because he put him [ in a passion. The case was not even inquired into, although it happened at the time when we were sup- posed to have conferred on the inhabitants of Trinacria the blessings and benefits of the English constitution, and to have abolished the feudal privileges and abuses. The prince sent half a dollar to the widow of the defunct (which, by the way, he borrowed from the writer of these memoirs, and never repaid), and there the matter ended. Lord Nelson once suggested to Ferdi- nand IV. of Naples to try and check the daily increase of assassination, by a few salutary executions. "No, no," replied oldNasone, who was far from being as great a fool as he looked, " that is impossible. If I once began that system, my kingdom would soon be depopu- lated. One half of my subjects would continually be : employed in hanging the remainder." Amongst other peculiarities, Paganini was a living compound of avarice and parsimony, with a most contra- dictory passion for gambling. He would haggle for six- , pence in an engagement, and stake a rouleau on a singleliaK. J turn at rouge-et-noir. He screwed all who dealt with himir.j-iiff dq in a bargain as tightly as if they were compressed in alrtsjitj vice ; yet he had intervals of liberality, and occasionallyf deviated into a generous action. In this he bore som( resemblance to the celebrated John Elwes of miserl} notoriety, who debarred himself from the common neces saries of life and lived on a potato-skin, but had beei i known to give a cheque for 100?. to a public charity and to contribute largely to private subscriptions. It i not on record that Paganini went so far as this; bu OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 197 once or twice he played for nothing, and sent a donation to the Mendicity Association when he was in Dublin. Paganini had a faithful attendant called Antonio, who tried to ape his master, but without success, in some of his peculiarities. He affected silence, solemnity, and eccentricity, but these attributes sat uneasily upon him, and he frequently abandoned them, and became social and communicative. Voltaire says, " No man is a hero to his valet-de-chamhre," meaning thereby, as we may suppose, that, being behind the scenes of every-day life, he finds out that Marshal Saxe or Frederick the Great is as subject to the common infirmities of our nature as John Noakes or Peter Styles, Whether Paganini's squire of the body looked upon his master as a hero in the vul- gar acceptation of the word, it is now useless to inquire; but, in spite of his stinginess, which the lackey writhed under, he regarded him with mingled reverence and terror. " A strange person, your master,^' once ob- served a visitor. " Signore,'''' replied the faithful Sancho Panza, " e verainente grand 'uomo ; ma da non potersi convprenderey He is a truly great man, but quite in- comprehensible. It was edifying to mark the awful importance with which Antonio bore the instrument nightly entrusted to his charge to carry to and from the theatre. He considered it an animated something, whether demon or angel he was unable to determine ; but this he firmly believed, that it could speak in actual dialogue when his master pleased, or become a dumb familiar by the same controlling volition. This especial violin was Paganini's inseparable companion. It lay on his table before him as he sat meditating in his solitary chamber ; it was placed by his side at dinner ; and on a chair within his reach when in bed. If he woke, as he constantly did, in the dead of night, and the sudden estro of composition seized him, he grasped his 198 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES '\ instrument, started up, and, on tlie instant, perpetuated »nd ' the inspiration which otherwise he might have lost for ; (^^ ever. This marvellous Cremona, valued at four hun- , hs"'^'' dred guineas, Paganini, on his death-bed, gave to De ^^_ Kontski, his nephew and only pupil, — also an eminent io^ performer, — and in his possession it lately remained. ^o'^- Paganini, having received enormous sums of money I i^ in France and England, returned to Italy, to take up his jj abode. His last years were spent at his villa Gajona, near Parma, but he died at Nice in 1840. Not long lit-- before his decease, he purchased the title of Baron, with otki: a patent of nobility, from some foreign potentate, we camti: believe^ the King of Bavaria. These, with his accumu- ra: " lated earnings, somewhat dilapidated by gaming, he bequeathed to his only son. He was the founder of his school, and the inventor of those extraordinary tricks, with which his endless successors and imitators are accustomed to astonish the uninitiated. But he still stands at the head of the list, although it includes many eminent names, and is not likely to be pushed from his pedestal. We turn from our digression on this singular exotic to speak of the retirement of one of the most popular of English actors, who justly merited the esteem in which he was held both in his private and professional cha- racter. We allude to Charles Young, who closed his public career at Covent Garden, on the 30th of May, 1832. The cliaracter he selected on this occasion was; Hamlet, always considered one of his best performances,' and in which he originally presented himself to a Lon- don audience at the Haymarket, on the 22d June, 1807.' Matthews, who had played Poloniiis with him on his entrance, resumed the same character at his exit, and Macready complimented him by appearing as the Ghost Every place in the boxes had been taken for some days I OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 199 and the first rush filled the pit and galleries to such excess that, from the former, several females were handed over the boxes as they could not endure the dreadful pressure, notwithstanding they had been able to undergo the annoyance of waiting for hours at the doors, and the positive suffering of getting through them. The extremely crowded state of the audience occasioned much confusion and discontent ; so much so, that the earlier part of the tragedy was inaudible, and the actors made symbols of speech, and stared at each other with the most edifying expression. Egerton first came forward, bowed, spread his arms, and retired to the wing, to consult ; bowed, spread his arms again, and finally withdrew without being able to obtain a hearing. Young then appeared. He had hoped to be allowed to go on with his part, and that his presence would have stilled the storm, but he was mistaken. He advanced to the orchestra, and at last was made to understand that more had been admitted than the house would hold without risk of suffocation. He expressed his regret, and pro- mised that the money should be returned to all those who " would have the kindness to take it and quit the theatre." But, by this time, the inconvenienced had wedged themselves into a few yielding inches of space, nobody thought fit to depart, and the disturbance gra- dually subsided. Notwithstanding the discontent. Young was loudly and unanimously greeted on his entrance, and he acknowledged his reception with be- coming grace. He left oif acting in the full vigour of his powers, before they evinced the slightest symptoms of decay, and before he began to feel the inroads of age. In his case, there was no coquetting with last appearances, no recalls for a few nights " by special desire," no longing aspirations to hear once more the applause of former days. When remonstrated with by 200 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES some zealous admirers who wislied him to postpone his resolution, he replied, with the true spirit of a philo- sopher, and in the words of Penruddock which he had so often delivered, " When I am quietly retiring from the stage of this vain world, call me not back to lose the little grace that I have gained ; I would not be made a , spectacle in my decline and dotage." To his last au- dience he repeated the same sentiment in his farewell address. " It has been asked of me," he said^ " why I retire from the stage while I am in possession of all the qualifications I could ever aspire to, unimpaired ? I will give you my motives, but reason and feeling are not always cater-cousins. I feel the excitement and toil of my profession weigh more heavily upon me than formerly ; and, if my qualifications are still unweakened, so I would have them remain. I know that they were never worthy of the degree of approbation with which you honoured them ; but, such as they are, I am unwilling to continue before my patrons until I can offer them only tarnished metal." Young was in easy, independent circumstances, and en- joyed his otium cimi dignitate for twenty-six years, happy in himself, until his last long and painful illness, which he bore with Christian resignation, and contributing much, by his social accomplishments, to the happiness of a large circle of personal friends. He was ever most popular with his professional brethren, from his unvary- ing urbanity of manner and kindliness of disposition, and may be quoted as a rare instance of one " Bless'd with temper whose unclouded ray- Could make to-morrow cheerful as to-day." He was constitutionally light and humorous as a school-boy, and had nothing of the tragedian in his composition except the power of embodying the tragic OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 201 passions, in imitative art. Not long before he left London for his final residence at Brighton, he called with one of his grandsons to see the writer of these pages, who had long enjoyed his personal friendship, and who happened at the moment to be at dinner with his family. " Tell them," he said to the servant, " not to hm-ry, but when they are at leisure, there are two little boys waiting to see them." Beginning life with advantageous prospects, and receiving a good education at the ]\Ierchant Taylors' school, and afterwards at Eton College, Charles Young might have pursued fortune through many channels, but the stage was his fascina- tion. He proved himself to be the most eminent disciple of the Kemble school, and a worthy successor of the founder on whom he built his style. His genius was imitative rather than creative : he had no stage trickery ; his manner was invariably sustained ; his cast of features commanding ; his voice of a noble quality, and beautifully modulated ; his discrimination excellent. If he seldom astonished, he never disappointed an audience. What- ever he did was done well, and altogether he may be pronounced the safest and most reliable actor that ever assumed leading characters. There was no apprehen- sion that his physical powers would ever fail or that his judgment would be at fault. He was equally suited to represent the heroes of the classic drama and of the recent stage. Whether in Roman, Oriental, or modern fashionable costume, his appearance satisfied the eye and fixed the attention of the spectator. It has been repeated that Lord Byron pronounced Young the quintessence of mediocrity. If the noble poet said so, the phrase was more smart than just, more depreciating than true. There was no mediocrity in his performance of Zanga, ii Pierre, lago, Hamlet, The Stranger, Rolla, Rienzi, Brutus im and Cassius, both so excellent, that it was difficult to 202 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES assign the palm to either; and, above all, in his Sir Pertinax Macsycojilmnt^ in which he trod close on the heels of Cooke. In semi-serious characters, vibrating between tragedy and comedy, such as Falkland, Lord Toxonly, Joseph Surface, Penruddoch, and others of that class, he maintained a high reputation. His comic per- formances abounded in rich humour, and he sang with L a pleasant compass of voice, which he never attempted }/.] to force, and with grood taste and execution. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 203 CHAPTEE XII. CHARLES EEAN RETURXS FROM AMERICA — LONG PASSAGE COXTEASTED WITH PRESENT SPEED SERIOUS ACCIDENT ON LANDING — ENGAGED BY LAPORTE AT COVENT GARDEN AND APPEARS AS SIR EDWARD MOR- TIMER — QUALIFIED SUCCESS — ACTS lAGO TO HIS FATHER'S OTHELLO — LAST PERFORMANCE OF EDMUND KEAN HIS DEATH AND PUBLIC FUNE- RAL AT RICHMOND ^TABLET ERECTED TO HIS MEMORY BY HIS SON — SALE OF HIS EFFECTS BY AUCTION FATE OF THE DRURY LANE VASE — CHARLES KEAN LEAVES LONDON AND DETERMINES NEVER TO RETURN UNTIL HE CAN COMMAND HIS OWN TERMS REFLECTIONS ON THE PERISHING NATURE OF THE ACTOR'S ART, WITH ITS RELATIVE ADVAN- TAGES AND DISADVANTAGES — ANECDOTES OF ANCIENT AND MODERN ACTORS. Charles Kean's successful tour in America continued for nearly two years and-a-lialf. Sailing for England in the Ontario, he arrived at Portsmouth, on the 11th of February, 1833, having been forty days on the voyage. This was before the broad Atlantic had been spanned by steamers as with a bridge, reducing to hours what had formerly occupied days, and multiplying life and energy with increased locomotion — a feat which the great philosopher and mechanician. Dr. Lardner, had recently declared to be impracticable, but which he was not long afterwards amongst the first to refute by per- sonal experiment. A voyage of three thousand miles is now scudded over rapidly, and with infinitely less discomfort than it took our ancestors a few generations back, to rumble in a lumbering diligence from Edin- bm-gh to London. As if to prepare the young adventurer for a cool reception at home, in descending into the boat which 204 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES was to convey him on shore, he fell overboard and nar- rowly escaped drowning. Such was his anxiety to reach London, and see his mother, after a long separa- tion, that he travelled all night from Portsmouth in his wet clothes, but fortunately sustained no injury from this act of imprudence. Very soon after his arrival, he was engaged by Monsiem- Laporte, at that time manager at Covent Garden, with a salary of 30?. per week, and stipulated as a sine qua non, in opposition to the wishes of the theati'ical authorities, that he should make his first appearance in >SV/- Edward Mortimer — his former success in that character at the Haymarket, in 1829, appearing a sufficient guarantee for a similar sequel in 1833. But he found himself mistaken. He was but coldly welcomed by the audience ; the press veered round again, and the same papers which had formerly lauded his effijrts in the same character, rescinded their opinions, and fell back on the old tone of condemnation. There seemed to him, in this, " something more than natural," which his philosophy was unable to fathom. He had acted only a few nights with qualified success, when his father was engaged by Laporte, and in the month of March appeared as Shylock. But time and dissipation had done their work. The powers of the elder Kean had long been on the decline, and it was now painful to behold the " poor remains " of the once great delineator of Shakespeare's noblest characters. He was reduced to a mere shadow, the wreck of what he had formerly been. There was still the occasional flash, which, as usual, electrified the audience, but the efi"ect was momentary ; the piercing eye, the varying expres- sion, the epigrammatic distinctness, the sustained passion, were gone for ever. Laporte thought, with sound managerial tact, that the appearance of the father and son in conjunction, i OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 205 would be likely to attract mouey to his almost empty treasury. They acted together for the first, and, as it was so fated, the only time in London, on the 2oth of March, 1833. The play was " Othello." The Moor, as usual, by Edmund Kean, lago by Charles Kean, and Desdemona by Miss Ellen Tree. This eventful performance, the last appearance of the father on the mimic scene, and the rapid precursor of his final exit from the stage of life, is thus graphically described by the pen of Barry Cornwall.* " There was no rehearsal, nor any arrangement as to the mode of play; but when the son arrived at the theatre in the evening, he was told that his father desired to see him. He went accordingly to his dress- ing-room, and found him shivering and exceedingly weak. ' I am very ill,' he said ; ' I am afraid I shall not be able to act.' The actors who were present cheered him up ; but to provide against the worst a servant was desired to air a dress (such as Othello wears), in order that JMr. Warde might take up the part, in case Kean should actually break down before the conclusion. The play commenced. After the first scene, Kean observed, ' Charles is getting on to-night — he's acting very well ; I suppose that's because he is acting with me.' He himself was very feeble. He was, however, persuaded to proceed, and brandy and water was administered to him as usual. By this help he went on pretty well until the commencement of the third act; but before the drop-cm-tain rose, he said to his son, ' Mind, Charles, that you keep before me ; don't get behind me in this act. I don't know that I shall be able to kneel ; but if I do, be sure that you lift me up.' Still, he pursued his way without faltering. He went off with Desdemona, and no one observed any * Life of Edmund Kean, London, 1835, vol. ii. pp. 239 et seq. 206 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES change. But, on entering again, when he says, ' What, false to me, &c.,' he was scarcely able to walk across the stage. He held up, however, until the celebrated ' Farewell,^ which he uttered with all his former pathos ; but on concluding it, after making one or two steps towards his son (who took care to be near him), and attempting the speech, ' Villain, be sure, &c.,' his head sank on his son's shoulder, and the tragedian's acting was at an end. He was able to groan out a few words in Charles's ear, ' I am dying — speak to them, for me ; ' after which (the audience refusing in kindness to hear any apology) he Av^as borne from the stage. His son, assisted by other persons, carried him to his dressing- room, and laid him on the sofa. He was as cold as ice ; his pulse was scarcely perceptible, and he was uncon- scious of all that was going on around him. In this state he remained some time, when the remedies which were applied having restored him to his senses, he was taken to the Wrekin tavern, near the theatre, and IMessrs. Carpue and Duchez (the surgeons) were sent for." After a week's stay he was removed to Richmond, when he rallied a little, and was soon enabled to go out in a carriage. But the weather was cold, and he fancied that this airing gave him his death-blow. On the 15th of May he died. A short time before his death, during an interval of serious reflection, he wrote a penitential and affectionate letter to his wife, entreat- ing her forgiveness and obliteration of the past. " If I have erred," he said, " it was my head and not my heart, and most severely have I suffered for it. Come home, forget and forgive.'''' The letter produced the desired effect. " Mrs. Kean answered this appeal by proceeding at once to Richmond. She saw her husband once more after seven years of estrangement, and the most perfect reconciliation followed. She went to him OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 207 again repeatedly, and the best understanding prevailed between them. All this was the work of their son." * The character of this great original actor, apart from his professional merits, is thus summed up by his biographer : — "As a man, Kean, with all his faults, possessed redeeming points. He had an independent spirit; he was proud in his own way. He gave away large sums of money to his fellow-actors in distress. He exerted himself for charities. He stood up for the cause of his profession. If his delinquencies be retorted upon us, we may reply that his unchecked childhood was of itself sufficient to extenuate many errors ; that years of penury and suffering should also be taken into the account in his favour ; and that the sudden and almost miparalleled fortune that met and lifted him, in a moment, from obscurity and want to the very summit of prosperity and fame, was such as scarcely any man, with the common weakness of humanity, could have encountered without rendering himself liable to some little reproach." Edmund Kean died deeply involved in his pecuniary affairs. He was ever careless of money, paying bills without examining them, and trusting to others in all matters of finance. It is no exaggerated calculation to say, that he gave away, or was fleeced out of half his earnings. Sometimes he wrote cheques at night, when he was in a state of intoxication. These he desired to recall in the morning, but found they had already been presented and honoui-ed, as soon as the doors of Coutts' bank were opened. The holders dreaded the repeal of their documents. The career of this remarkable man — his indomitable genius, long contending with adverse circumstances, but * Life of Edmund Kean, vol. ii. p. 243. 208 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES finally forcing its way in spite of every obstacle ; his reiterated weaknesses and wasted opportunities, — all supply many subjects for painful meditation, but tins is not the place in which they may be indulged. His funeral was most respectably conducted. Nearly all the leading members of the different London theatres were present, with a large proportion of the principal inha- bitants of Richmond. The shops were closed in respect, as the procession passed along the green, and through the streets, to the western portal of the old church, near which his remains are deposited. His son, as soon as he was able, erected a tablet to his memory, with a medallion portrait, bearing the following inscription : — ■ "Edmund Kean, died May 15th, 1833, aged forty- six. A Memorial erected by his son, Charles John Kean, 1839." The theatrical wardrobe and properties, furniture, plate, and other moveables, either at Richmond or the cottage in Bute, were seized and sold for the benefit of creditors. Included amongst these articles were some of peculiar interest — a snuff-box and two swords, gifts of Lord Byron, with the splendid silver cup (made after the celebrated Warwick vase) , which cost three hundred guineas, presented to Edmund Kean in 1816 by the ^j Committee and Company of Drury Lane. It was sold () to a silversmith for the weight of the silver. In July, ■ 1834, this cup was standing in the window of a carver | and gilder's shop in Duucannon Street, Strand. Charles t Kean, accidentally passing by, saw it, and walked in. ' He had a conversation with the shopman (the master being out), told him who he was, and begged him to say, ■ that if not parted with for a reasonable time, the first ' money he earned should be applied to the purchase. * On the following evening it was stolen from the win- dow, as the handbills stated, which were published in OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 209 consequence, offering 20L iseward for its recovery. In all probability it was melted down forthwith, and had ceased to be in existence. Far better would it have been if the play-going public, admirers of the late pos- sessor, or a few personal friends, had thought of securing the relic by subscription, as a present to his widow and son. This more desirable object might have been ac- complished by a timely suggestion. The sale of Edmund Kean's valuables took place on the 17th of June, 1834. The world wondered, or affected to wonder ; and it was said beyond a whisper, by more than one, that Charles Kean ought to have bought in the personal effects of his father, and prevented a public auction. A hasty opinion uttered by those who either knew not, or, what is more likely, chose to forget, that the young man was still struggling for his own subsistence, that he had his mother to support, and that he had not as yet had sufficient time to accumulate I store. Could he have commanded the necessary funds, a MJ comparatively small sum might have redeemed the Bute estate, on which two or three years' ground rent had accumulated. This unprofitable purchase comprised twenty-four acres of bog and rock, on which his father, dreaming that he loved rural retirement, had expended 4,000/. in the building and furniture of a house, in Illy, jthe construction of a road by which it could be reached, |and in other expensive improvements. It was generally iiles irumoured that the noble Marquis, to whom the island 1 ill, ibelonged, had presented Kean the elder with an estate, from mere admiration of his genius. There was no foundation for this, as his lordship had never set himself forward as a Maecenas ; neither was there any reason why fie should affect the character on an insulated occasion, md in favour of a person with whom he was personally inacquainted, who then possessed the means of indulg- VOL. I. p 210 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES ing his fancies. The property at Bute fell with the rest to the creditors of the deceased actor, and was bought "back from them by the Marquis for a mere trifle. Shortly after the interrupted representation of " Othello," Sheridan Knowles' play of the " Wife " was produced at Covent Garden, and met with a success almost equal to that of the " Hunchback," which had been the gi-eat stay of the house during the preceding year. Charles Kean was the original Leonardo Gonzaga, Miss Ellen Tree, Mariana ; Knowles himself playing Julian St. Pierre. The latter was determined to show the world, even if they required demonstration of the fact, that a great author might be a very insufficient reflector of his own creations. This piece, notwith- standing, ran for the remainder of the season, and was continued with undiminished attraction long after the Covent Garden company removed to the Olympic, theatre. But Charles Kean saw he had as yet mad little or no permanent impression. Causes were i operation which time and absence might remove. KnoW' ing that, without difficulty, he could obtain profitabl engagements elsewhere, he resolved to " bide his time,' and to act no more in London until he could pla himself at the "top of the tree." He had encounterei rebuffs and disappointment ; as often as he made a ste in advance, some opposing influence dragged him bai again ; still tlie conviction of ultimate success was stroa within him, and he felt satisfied that, sooner or later should attain the object of his ardent desire. One he accidentally met Mr. Dunn, the treasurer of D: Lane Theatre, who, on the part of jMr, Bunn, at that ti the lessee, proposed a benefit for his mother, as t] widow of Edmund Kean. The offer was a kind o: but Charles declined it, feeling that he was now able support his surviving parent by his own exertions, ai; OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 211 unwilling to let her be considered an object of public charity. Mr. Dunn then suggested, that in all proba- bility he could readily obtain an engagement at Drury Lane at 15?. per week. " No," replied the young actor, " I will never again set my foot on a London stage until I can command my own terms of 501. a night. " Then, Charles Kean," rejoined Mr. Dunn with a smile, " I fear you may bid a long farewell to London ; for the days of such salaries are gone for ever." Time rolled on, and, at the expiration of five years only, during which he had received 20,000/. by acting in the country, he drove to the stage-door of Drury Lane Theatre in his own carriage, with a signed engagement at 501 a night in his pocket, and which engagement, for upwards of forty nights, was paid to him by the very man who had predicted its impossibility. It would be difficult to cite a more striking instance of a strong internal conviction leading to the anticipated end, or of industry and perseverance so amply crowned by a corresponding result. There was talent of no te^l ordinary quality, beyond doubt, with some assisting circumstances, in this individual case ; but a valuable lit ' lesson and a powerful moral of general application are here combined. In struggling through the journey of life, some are doomed to toil perpetually on a rugged path, while others glide with railroad regularity on a smooth one. But the goal is open to all. What one has accomplished another may hope to achieve also, and no one should despair, while retaining health and unclouded faculties to sustain an honourable resolution. A word or two here on the large salaries received by members of the theatrical profession. In all ages suc- cessful actors have been an uncommonly well paid community. This is a substantial fact which no one can deny, however much opinions may differ as to the p2 212 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES comparative value of the liistrionic art, when ranked with poetry, painting, and sculpture. From hence we may infer that the world places a higher estimate on the ornamental accessories than on the bald realities of life. The actor complains of the hard conditions inseparable from his most successful efforts — that they fade with the decay of his own personal capabilities, and are only preserved for a doubtful interval through the medium of unfaithful imitation — very often a bad copy of an original which no longer exists to disprove the libel. In the actor's case, then, something must certainly be deducted on the score of posthumous renown ; but this deficiency is amply balanced by living estimation and a realized fortune. There are many instances of great painters, poets, and sculptors (aye, and philosophers, too), who could scarcely gain a livelihood; but we should be puzzled to name a great actor without an enormous salary. Managers are not included in this category. They are unlucky exceptions ; and not un- frequently lose in sovereignty what they had gained by service. An income of 3,000/. or 4,000/. per annum carries along with it many solid enjoyments. The actor f who can command this by labouring industriously in his i vocation, and whose ears are continually tingling withl the nightly applause of his audience, has no reason toj consider his lot a hard one, because posterity may assign! to him in the temple of Fame a less prominent nicheioi than is occupied by Milton, who, when alive, soL " Paradise Lost " for 151. or by Rembrandt, who w; obliged to feign his own death, before his pictm-ei could provide him a dinner. If these instances faii to content him, let him recollect what is recorded o " Blind Mgeonides." j " Seven Grecian cities claim'd great Homer dead, J- ■ Tlirough which the livuig Homer begg'd his bread." ' OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 213 No doubt it is a grand affair to figure in the page of history, and to be recorded amongst the foremost men of our generation. But there is good practical phi- losophy in the homely proverb which says, " solid pud- ding is better than empty praise." The reputation which wins its cm-rent value during life, is more useful to the proprietor than the honour that comes after death, and comes, as David says, in the " Rivals," " ex- actly when we can make a shift to do without it." To have our merits appreciated two or three ages hence, by generations yet unborn, and to have our works, whether with pen, pencil, or chisel, admired long after what was once our mortal substance is " stopping a beer-barrel," are very pleasing, poetical hallucinations for all who like to indulge in them ; but the chances are we shall know nothing of the matter, while it is quite certain that if we do we shall set no value on it. Posterity, then, will be the chief gainers, and, of all concerned, the only party to whom we owe no obligations. The pos- terity, too, which emanates from the nineteenth century is much more likely to partake of the commercial than the romantic character, and to hold in higher reverence the memory of an ancestor who has left behind him 30,000?. in bank-stock or Consols, than of one who has only bequeathed a marble monument in St. Paul's, or "Westminster's old Abbey" a flourishing memoir in the " Lives of Illustrious Englishmen," or an epic poem in twenty-four cantos. Let it not be supposed tliat we are disciples of Pizarro, who calls the applause of future ages "■ renown for visionary boys to dream of;" or that we depreciate eil«|the love of posthumous fame with " those longings after immortality," which are powerful incentives to raucii that is good and great : but we are led into this train of thought by hearing it so constantly objected as a mis- 214 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES fortune to the actor, that his best efforts are but fleeting shadows, and cannot survive him. This, being inter- preted fairly, means, that he cannot gain all that genius and perseverance toil for ; but he has won a prepon- derating share, and ought to be satisfied. Perhaps, too, the indistinctness of tradition may be more favourable to his memory than the stereotyped, matter-of-fact accu- racy of contemporary evidence. Formerly the actor had to contend with prejudices which stripped him of his place in society, and degraded his calling. This was assuredly a worse evil than perishable fame ; but all this has happily passed away. The interdict is removed, and he takes his place with kindred artists, according to his artistic pretensions. His large salary excites much wondering comment, and more jealousy ; but he is no longer exposed to obloquy and insult. When the elder Sheridan appeared as an evidence on the trials resulting from the celebrated " Mahomet riot" at the Smock Alley Theatre in Dublin, in 1754, he happened to use the term gentleman as applied to himself. On this one of the opposing counsel took him up, and said, " I have often heard of a gentle- J man poet, a gentleman painter, and a gentleman archi- I- tect, but I never yet saw a gentleman player." " Then i| I hope, Sir," replied Sheridan calmly, "that you seeH one now." i \ Le Kain, the French Roscius, once received a heavier i affront than this, which he was obliged to swallow he might. Dining one day at a 7'estaurateicrs, he was accosted by an old general officer near him. " Ah ! Monsieur Le Kain, is that you ? Where have you bee: for some weeks? we have lost you from Paris." '' have been acting in the South, may it please yo excellency.'^ ^' Eh, hienf and how much money have' you earned?" "In six weeks, Sir, I have receivec OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 215 four thousand crowns." " Biahhr exclaimed the gene- ral, twisting his moustache with a truculent frown. "What's this I hear? A miserable mimic such as thou can gain in sis weeks double the sum that I, a nobleman of twenty descents, and a knight of St. Louis, am paid in twelve months ! Voila une vraie in- famier'' "And at what sum, Sir," replied Le Kain, placidly, " do you estimate the privilege of thus address- ing me?" In those days, and long after, in France, an actor was denied Christian burial, and would have been broken alive on the wheel if he had presumed to put himself on an equality with a gentleman, or dared to resent an unprovoked outrage. The large salaries of recent days were even surpassed amongst the ancients. In Home, Roscius, and ^sopus his contemporary, amassed prodigious fortunes by their professional labours. Eoscius was paid at the rate of 45Z. a-day, amounting to more than 15,000?. per an- num of our currency. No wonder he was fond of his art, and unwilling to relinquish its exercise. He became so rich, that at last he declined receiving any emolu- ment, and acted gratuitously for several years.* A modern manager would give something to stumble on such a star, -^sopus, at an entertainment, produced a single dish stuifed with singing birds, which, according to Dr. Arbuthnot's computation, must have cost about 4,883 Z. sterling. He left his son a fortune amounting to 200,000?. British money, f It did not remain long in the family, as, by the evidence of Horace and Pliny, he was a notorious spendthrift, and rapidly dissipated the honest earnings of his father. * Plin. lib. vii. cap. 39 ; Macrob. Sat. lib. ii. cap. 10 ; Middleton's Life of Cicero :— Cic. Orat. pro Q. Roscio. t Macrob. Sat. lib. ii. cap. 10. 216 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Decimus Laberius, a Roman knight, was induced, or, as some writers say, compelled, by Julius C^sar to appear in one of bis own Mimes, an inferior kind of dramatic composition very popular amongst the Ro- mans, and in which he was unrivalled, until supplanted by Publius Syrus, The said Laberius found consola- tion for his degraded dignity in a good round sum, as Caesar gave him twenty thousand crowns and a gold ring for this, his first and only appearance on any stage. Neither was he " alone in his glory," being countenanced by Furius Leptinus and Quintus Calpenus, men of senatorial rank, who, on the authority of Suetonius, fought in the ring for a prize. We are inclined to think the money had its due weight with Laberius. He was evidently vain, and in his prologue, preserved, by Macrobius, and translated by Goldsmith, he laments his age and infirmities quite as pathetically as the dis- grace to which he was subjected. " Why did you not ask me to do this/' thus he remonstrates with Caesar, " when I was young and supple, and could have acquitted myself with credit ? " But, according to Macrobius, the whole business was a regular contract, with the terms settled beforehand. " Laberium asperse libertatis equitem Romanum, Csesar quingeiitis millibus invitavit, ut prodiret in scenam."* Good encourage- ( ment for a single amateur performance ! ' Garrick retired at the age of sixty, having been; thirty-five years connected with the stage. He leftj behind him above 100,000/. in money, besides con-l siderable property in houses, furniture, pictm-es, plate,! and articles of virtu. He lived in the best society, andl feasted archbishops, bishops, and noblemen, with be-| coming splendour. But he had no family to educate! * Macrob. Sat. lib. ii. cai). 7. i ^M OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 217 or provide for, and was systematically prudent in expenditure, although charitable to the extreme of liberality when occasion required. Edmund Kean might have saved a larger fortune than Garrick, had his habits been equally regular. George Frederick Cooke, in many respects a kindred genius to Kean, threw away a golden harvest in vulgar dissipation. The sums he received in America alone would have made him independent. John Kemble and Mrs. Sid- dons both retired in opulence, although less wealthy than might have been expected. She had through life heavy demands upon her ; and he, in an evil hour, in- vested much of his savings in Co vent Garden theatre. Young left the stage in the full tide of his fame, with a handsome independence. Macready did the same under similar circumstances. Liston was always accounted one of the richest actors of his day, and William Farren is generally set down as " a warm man." Miss Ste- phens, the Keans (father and son), Macready, Braham, and others, have frequently received 501. per night for a long series of performances. Tyrone Power bade fair to hold one of the highest places in the list, such was his increasing popularity and attraction, when the untimely catastrophe occurred which ended his career, and produced a vacancy we are not likely to see filled up. John Bull has ever been remarkable for his lavish encouragement of foreign artists. The largest remu- neration awarded to native talent bears no comparison with the salaries given to French and Italian singers, dancers, and musicians. This love of imported prodi- gies is no recent passion, but older than the days of Shakespeare. Trinculo, in the " Tempest," thus apo- strophises the recumbent monster, Caliban, whom he takes for a fish : " Were I in England now, as I was 218 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES once, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver. There would this monster make a man. Any strange beast there makes a man." Catalani, Pasta, Sontag, Malibran, Grisi, Taglioni, Rachel, Rubini, Mario, Tamburini, Lablache, Paganini, cum multis cdiis, have received their thousands and tens of thousands ; but the Jenny Lind mania left all prece- dents at an immeasurable distance. What the Swedish nightingale drew from England during her last public appearance, in concerts alone, has never authentically transpired, but we can scarcely exaggerate when we set the figure at a sum sufiicient to buy up the fee simple of half the hereditary baronies in any given country on the continent. hOe^. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 219 CHAPTEE XIII. CHARLES KEAN AT DUBLIN — ENGAGEMENT IN HAMBURGH — SUCCESSFUL OPENING PERFORMANCES INTERDICTED BY THE LOCAL AUTHORITIES — ATTACHMENT TO MISS ELLEN TREE, AFTERWARDS MRS. C. KEAN — LUDI- CROUS ANECDOTES AT EXETER THE LATE DUCHESS OF ST. ALBAN'S MARQUIS OF NORMANBY — LORD PLUNKETT GREAT SUCCESS IN EDIN- BURGH — LORD MEADOWBANK — COMPLIMENT FROM MR. STRANGE, WHO REMEMBERED GARRICK IN HAMLET LORD JEFFREY MADAME MALI- - BRAN HER UNEXPECTED DEATH AT MANCHESTER — DEATH OF CHARLES MATHEWS, SEN. — MONTAGUE TALBOT, A DUBLIN ACTOR — MATHEWS'S GALLERY OF THEATRICAL PORTRAITS EDWIN FORREST, THE AMERICAN TRAGEDIAN — RETIREMENT OP CHARLES KEMBLE — HIS RETURN FOR A FEW NIGHTS, BY DESIRE OF HER PRESENT MAJESTY — RETIREMENT OP JOHN LISTON— DEATH OF JOHN REEVE. In October, 1833, diaries Kean, after leaving London, performed twelve nights in Dublin, during which engagement he personated the arduous and varied cha- racters of Sir Giles Overreach, Sir Edward Mortimer, Othello, Jaffier, Rexd>en Glenroy, Richard the Third, Romeo, and Macbeth. In all he was well received, and laid the basis of a reputation which from that hour increased rapidly with every succeeding visit. The characteristic warmth with which he was welcomed in Dublin received no impulse from national partiality, because the candidate for their favour happened to be an Irishman — the fact was either unknown or disregarded. But, naturally quick, they saw and encouraged the rising merit, uninfluenced by preconceived opinions or fostered prejudices. Before the close of the year, Charles Kean accepted an offer to perform, with a well-selected English com- pany, in Hamburgh, under the direction of Mr. Barham Livius. The experiment promised successfully, as far 220 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES as general patronage was concerned ; but in a few weeks it came to a premature close, through the interference of the local authorities, to whom a representation was made that the attraction of the " foreign intruders " interfered with and injured the regular establishments. Upon this hint, the English actors received notice to quit. Some governments are less tenacious of the interests of their fellow-countrymen. The heroine of this corapanj was Miss Ellen Tree, a young lady equally distinguished by her amiable cha- racter, personal attractions, and high professional ability. A friend, well acquainted with both, predicted to Charles Kean, when dining one day with his family, that he would infallibly lose his heart, exposed to such combined temptations, and has lived to see his prediction most happily accomplished in the marriage of the parties. The visit to Hamburgh led to an intimacy, increasing a mutual attachment previously commenced in London, and they became engaged to each other. But the pro- jected union was broken off, and for some years^ appeared anything but a likely event, the mothers on both sides deeming it equally ineligible. At this time all the advantages were clearly on the side of the lady. The young actor had yet the world before him, with his fortune to make ; while the object of his choice was in the full tide of her fame, with worth, beauty, and accom- plishments which might have added lustre to a coronet. "When Charles Kean returned from the Continent, \ engagements in all the leading country theatres presented ' J themselves in abundance. During a visit to Exeter, i a ludicrous incident occurred. He had a favourite I Newfoundland dog, named Lion, who accompanied him | everywhere, and usually remained in his dressing-room ! while he was on the stage. One evening, during Richard \ the Third, the door happened to be left open, and Lion ' OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 221 heard the well-known voice in loud excitement. He trotted out, and appeared at the wing just as Richard and Richmond were on the point of engaging in the last scene. Lion growled at his master's antagonist, exhi- bited his teeth, and rushed furiously forward ; where- upon the terrified Richmond, deeming the odds too serious, fled from the field, and was seen no more. Kean, being left without an antagonist, was obliged to fall and die unwounded. Lion bestrode his master in triumph, licking his face, and barking vociferously while the curtain fell, amidst a roar of laughter and applause. Richard was then unanimously summoned before the curtain ; presented himself, made his bow, and retired. Loud calls continued for "the dog;" but Lion, having finished his unstudied role, declined a second appearance. On another occasion, in the same city, and while acting in the same play, Charles Kean had to deal with a tall, ungainly Richmond, who knew nothing of fencing. He pressed him into a corner, until he fell backwards into the orchestra, and remained fixed in the kettle- drum, through which he partially disappeared. Richard again found himself without an opponent, until the musicians helped the latter out of his narrow prison, handed him his sword, and he renewed the fight, so inopportunely impeded. The roars of the audience may be more readily imagined than described. But still Richard remained invulnerable, and at last succumbed without a wound. Richmond then avenged himself by showering deadly thrusts upon his fallen foe. Amongst Charles Kean's early and warmest patron- esses, we must enumerate the late Duchess of St. Alban's, from whose kindness he obtained many valuable introductions. He had no particular claim on her notice, beyond the sympathy naturally excited in a generous mind for a young man of talent struggling 222 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES with difficulties, and in want of patronage. Exalted in rank, and possessed of boundless wealth, she had herself in earlier days gone through the ordeal of adversity ; and when selected by fortune for one of her especial favourites, encountered every species of abuse wliich slander and detraction could invent, to terrify her into the purchase of silence by bribes which would have exhausted the treasury of Croesus, without accomplish- ing the desired object. She had the good sense and firmness to pay no regard to these attacks, while her heart remained ever kind and her hand extended. The portals of fashion being thus opened through interest, Charles Kean made his own way by gentleman- like bearing and unassuming demeanour. During his probationary lustrum in the provinces, Edinburgh vied with Dublin in encouragement and remuneration. In each of these great cities he was invited into the best society. In Dublin he became a frequent guest at the Castle and the Park, under the viceroy alty of the Marquis of Normanby, and the chief secretaryship of the Earl of Carlisle (then Lord Morpeth). These two distinguished noblemen and statesmen have ever been remarkable for their admiration of the dramatic art. The late venerable ex-chancellor, Lord Plunkett, although beyond his seventieth year, was generally to be seen in the dress boxes on the nights of Kean's per- formance. Chief Justice Doherty (whose wife was his mother's second cousin), a most accomplished scholar, was seldom absent. In Edinburgh, in the year 1837, he cleared, by a single engagement, nearly 1,000?. All the leading members of the bench and bar, including many names of first-rate literary celebrity, were to be seen amongst his constant auditors. In the list we may enumerate the Lords of Session (as the Scotch judges are called), Meadowbank, Medwyn, Jefiery, Fullerton, OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 223 Cockburn, Moncrieff, Robertson, and Mr. Maitland, afterwards Lord Dundrennan. The professors of the university also came forth, and many learned and distin- guished scholars, who seldom frequented the ordinary- performances of the theatre. During the same year (1837), an engagement in Glasgow, similar in duration to that of Edinburgh, even exceeded it in profit ; Charles Kean's dividends reaching an average of 1151. While this was going on, a Baillie of influence in the city, remarkable for his non- theatrical tastes, called upon him at his hotel, and with many preliminary flourishes and compliments, invited him to set aside the proceeds of one of his nights for the advantage of a local charity. "Sir," replied Charles Kean, "I live by my pro- fession, and I cannot afford to give up considerably above 1001. for the purpose you name; but oblige me by a sight of your subscription-list, and I will contribute accordingly." "Oh — ah!" said the functionary, a little taken aback. " I didn't view the matter in that light, cer- tainly. Here is the list." "And here. Sir," rejoined Kean, "are ten guineas — the highest sum I find there from any of your richest citizens." " Oh — ah !" ejaculated the Baillie a second time, and departed with many thanks. On his way home he called at the box-office, and, for the first time in his life, took a ticket for the play on the actor's benefit. The residents of the Northern Metropolis, or modern Athenians, as they delight to be called, have ever been slow and cold when sitting in critical judgment on new candidates for their favour; but they are warm and steady when once that judgment is pronounced. On Mrs. Siddons's first appearance, the crowded pit sat in 224 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES solemn silence throughout four-fifths of " Isabella." Point after point, which had electrified the more suscep- tible Londoners, fell upon them without enkindling a flash, or exciting an exclamation. Eyes looked dull, and hands were quiet. The great actress was in despair, and had scarcely courage to go on. One burst more, with concentrated energy, and she paused for the result. Still a moment of silence, when a dictatorial voice from the pit exclaimed, " That's no bad." This settled the question, and roused the whole house to applause, which fell " fast and furious," with scarcely any intermission, to the end of the play. The three letters from the late Lord Meadowbank, here inserted, may be read with interest, as conveying the opinion of a very competent judge on the merits of a young performer ; and also as bearing on . the much disputed question of the real or assumed mental aberra- tion of Hamlet. The two first letters are addressed to Mr. Murray, the manager of the Edinburgh Theatre. The third to Charles Kean himself :~ " 13, Royal Circus, " March, 1836. " Dear Sir, — " I have spoken with a good many persons who were not fortunate enough to have seen Mr. C. Kean play Hamlet, and who are very desirous of having it in their power to do so. Can this be obtained by inter- cepting him on his way back from Aberdeen ? Perhaps the eclat of having been solicited to play another night might induce him to change his plan of not returning by Edinburgh ; and if you think it desirable either for him or you, there will be no difficulty in getting up a requisition to Mr. Kean making the request. To this I shall be ready to subscribe most willingly, as, though I OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 225 see him perform that noble character again. The only- night until the 28th on which I could not do this is the 22d. " I remain, dear Sir, yours faithfully, " A. M. Maconochie. " William Miu'ray, Esq." " 13, Royal Circus, " March 31st, 1836. Deae Sir, — " Having availed myself last night of your kindness in giving me seats, I have been so much delighted again with. Mr. Kean's personification of Hmnlet, that I can- not resist the temptation of requesting that 1 may have % box, should the character be repeated, or should Mr. Kean play Othello, and, above all, LearJ^ *' I have never seen a7iy thing on the stage so perfect IS Mr. Kean's Hamlet. We may rise from reading the jriticisms of Johnson and Malone, without fully compre- lending the precise character which Shakespeare in- ;ended to delineate. But no one can have seen the representation of Mr. Kean, without having all his diffi- ulties removed, and his doubts cleared away. From e beginning to the end, Hamlet is a gentleman and a rince ; but a gentleman the equilibrium of whose brain ■las been deranged, and who, for the purposes of revenge, jl |ieigns that madness in a greater degree. But he is not ensible himself of this derangement. I could not letect a single emphasis improperly placed. The recita- ion of all the speeches was exquisitely fine. Nothing s^as lost to the sense which the most finished study ould convey, and yet the audience were, to all that ap- eared, entirely lost sight of. In short, the identification ras complete ; and it was impossible to fancy that it * This letter led to a renewed engagement with Charles Kean in (linbiirgh, when he had fhiished his northern tour. VOL. I. Q he 226 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES J was not the Prince of Denmark who himself occupied the scene. " I could not help observing, in the scene with the Ghost, that, since the days of Garrick, the observations of Partridge, in ' Tom Jones,' on that part of the play, never could have been so well applied.* I have to offer an apology for yielding to the impulse of the feelings of gratification which were excited last night, by troubling you with these remarks. But having lived long enough to have seen all the Hamlets who have appeared on the stage for forty years, and never before having seen the character embodied as I felt it, I thought it might afford satisfaction to ]Mr. Kean to know (should you think it worth while to tell him) what an old and early admirer of his father thought of his performance of the finest and most ditiicult of Shakespeare's manifold creations. It is now twenty-three years since I went to Glasgow for no other purpose than to see the late Mr. Kean play Othello. " I remain, dear Sir, " Yours faithfully, " A. M. Maconochie. " W. Miuray, Esq." Mr. Murray, as might be supposed, handed this letter with much alacrity, to the subject of its eulogium. I now lies on the table of the writer of these pages whil his hand traces them. The third letter, addressed t Charles Kean, runs thus : — • Dr. Johnson, who lost no opportunity of finding fault with Gi rick, thought his teiTor in this scene exaggerated and unnatur " Do you think, Six, if you saw a ghost," said Boswell, " you woi start as Ganick does in Hamlet V " No, Sir ;" rei)lied the c\t philosopher, " If I did, I should frighten the ghost." OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 227 " 13, Royal Circus, " AprU ISth. My deae Sir, — " Some time ago I ventured to give an opinion that you were endowed with powers to excel equally in the higher walks of comedy, as in tragedy ; an opinion formed on the observation of occasional glimpses of what appeared, in some of the characters in which I had the high gratification of seeing you, as well as from your imanner in the ordinary intercourse of society. That opinion has been confirmed beyond all doubt, by what [I saw in your representation of Hotsimr last night, which, allow me to add, considering the nature and extreme difficulty of the part, has left no doubt on my mind, that if you do not throw away your health, as I fear you are doing, by over-exertion, you will very speedily rival the fame and reputation of Garrick. But the parts which more forcibly struck me as supporting the opinion I have referred to, were, not only the scene after the first interview with the King, as well as I remember it, but that with Lachj Percy, in which the playfulness of anner and the comic effect produced both from voice d expression, satisfied me entirely that you could not fail in Doti Felix, and the like range of characters, if you ould only set your mind to them. It is but failing, at he most ; and if you succeed, then, as I said, you rival jarrick. " Why did you leave out the scene with Glendowerf * " Yours ever, " A. M. Maconochie. " To Charles Kean, Esq." &c. &c. This fuie and characteristic scene has never been acted. Perhaps hom a desire not to let any portion of the play detract from or interfere nth the humorous prominence of Fahtaff. Q2 228 THE LIFE AND THEATKICAL TIMES On a later occasion, Lord Meadowbank, in forwarding to Charles Kean a complimentary note from an old gentleman of the name of Strange, accompanied it by these remarks — " Mr. Strange is son of Sir Robert Strange, the eminent engraver. Being above eighty-four years of age, he was a living play- goer in the days of Garrick, and saw him more than once play Hamlet, which, in his opinion — and he is highly accomplished, and perfectly entire in his faculties — was not equal to Mr. Charles Kean's representation. He is married to a daughter of the late Viscount Melville." Lord Jeffrey, so long known and celebrated as the editor of the Edinhiirgh Revieiv, and the dispenser of^ literary reputation before he became a judge, introduced' himself to Charles Kean in the year 1 836, and soon be- came one of his warmest admirers. In the Caledonian Mercury of Thursday, the 24th of March, 1836, we find this notice of " Eicliard the Third," in wliich the name oj the great critic is introduced : — " During the encountei with Richmond, which Mr. Kean sustained, not only witl wonderful energy and lofty daring, but with a characte: and truth that were truly natural, the excitement of th< audience was raised to the utmost pitch ; and his atti tude, look, and whole expression, after he received th fatal thrust, were appalling to such a degree, that th audience seemed to feel a relief when the proud spiri was for ever quenched. Not the least interesting featui of the scene was the presence of Lord Jeffrey. Hi lordship was in a private box, and unseen during tl: earlier part of the evening ; but during the last spiri' stirring scenes, he presented himself in front, and warm! joined in the general acclaim to the commanding genii of the actor." In a letter to Lady Gilford, about this time, Lo] Jeffrey thus speaks of the impression made on i OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 229 experienced and critical mind hj the fervour of the rising actor : — " You are possibly aware how highly I think of Charles Kean's talents, and how much I shall be grati- fied to see him attain the success which I am persuaded he deserves, and to which I believe he is destined. In- dependent of my admiration of his professional excel- i lence, I have much esteem and regard for him as an individual." These and similar opinions from judges of the same weight, counterbalanced in the mind of Charles Kean the strong censures which had been so unsparingly dealt out to him by a majority of the London papers,* and encouraged his fond hope that prejudice and not justice had dictated their severity. At a later period, when he had triumphantly passed the London ordeal, and was preparing to visit America for the second time, Lord Jeffrey addressed him as follows: — " Craig Creek, n| "July nth, 1839. «' Deae Me. Kean, — " I now inclose you a line of introduction to my brother-in-law, Dr. Wilkes, which will open to you, I make no doubt, the houses of all his family and the rest of that circle. I can scarcely say that I have now any acquaintance at New York, but with your reputation you can really need no introduction. I have accordingly confined my testimony rather to your agreeableness as an individual, and the modesty with which you bear your higli and hard-won fame, than to the gifts and attainments by which you have deserved it. " I hope you will have a prosperous voyage and a bril- * At this very time, and in the midst of his Edinburgh triumphs, a local paper, inoculated with the hostile feeling, said, " When will our public be weary of the contortions of this galvanized carcass 1 " HI 230 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES liant success, and tliat you will come back to us loaded with w^ealtli and honours, before I am too old to understand and rejoice in your prosperity. But I must be very far gone indeed if I am not most happy to see you. With kind remembrances from Mrs. Jeffrey, believe me always, very faithfully yours, J. Jeffrey. " To Charles Kean, Esci-' Liverpool proved to Charles Kean another stronghold, almost equal in value to Dublin or Edinburgh. Man- chester, Bath, Exeter, Plymouth, with many of* the larger towns, followed the example. In the summer of 1836, he visited his native city of Waterford, and was greeted by the compliment of a public dinner. A silver claret jug, valued at 100?., and voted on this occasion, was afterwards presented to him in London, by a de- putation of gentlemen from Waterford, inscribed as follows : — " PRESENTED TO CHARLES KEAN, ESQ. AS A TOKEN OF ESTEEM FOR HIS PRIVATE CHARACTER, AND ADMIRATION OF HIS TALENTS, BY A FEW FRIENDS, IN HIS NATIVE CITT OF WATERFORD, JUNE 2Sth, 1836." He was now making rapid strides towards fame and fortune ; establishing himself in the best society, and acquiring hosts of influential friends in every place in which he appeared. The theatres were almost invari- ably crowded wherever he acted. He presented the unique instance of an actor without metropolitan popu- larity, proving himself the safest speculation and the most attractive "star" that a manager in the countr} could venture to engage. In the meantime the two gi'eat national temples of th( OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 231 British drama, in London, were undergoing the usual vicissitudes. Before the expiration of 1833, Mr. Bunn became lessee of both Drurj Lane and Covent Garden ; a Napoleonic sovereignty which no single head or hand could possibly wield with satisfaction or permanent suc- cess. But this temporary union, which was repealed in 1835, gave rise to much discussion and squabbling on the subject of a third patent theatre. The application, although defeated at the time, led to the ultimate aboli- tion of all patents, and the establishment of the present free trade in theatres, under the control of the Lord Cham- berlain. When Mr. Bunn gave up the lease of Covent Garden, it passed into the hands of Mr. Osbaldistone, of the Cobourg, or Victoria, who removed thither the transpontine prices, system of management, and style, — with what effect the result of two short seasons most un- satisfactorily demonstrated. During tlie season of 1835, the British operatic stage received a memorable although fleeting addition, in the person of an enchanting foreigner — Madame Malibran de Beriot, nee Garcia, as the continental formula runs. She was engaged by Mr. Bunn to appear at both his theatres, and for twenty-six performances, at the rate of three per week, received no less than 3,463/., secured beforehand — an average of rather more than 135/. per night. Her attraction was so great that the daring speculator escaped from his liabilities without being ^^\ absolutely smothered under them ; but the defalcations on the oif-nights of a telling " star," when the costly exotic lies in abeyance, make terrible inroads on the j^ip receipts of any given week. Poor IMalibran died rather suddenly, during the Man- chester festival, on the 23d of September, 1836. She was then only in the twenty-ninth year of her age. She jj,. sank under exhaustion, produced by exertions beyond 232 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES her physical capability ; and not as was generally and maliciously circulated at the time, in consequence of the mistaken treatment of her own foreign physician, who was also an intimate friend, and in whom she placed the most unbounded confidence. Her death-wan-ant was signed before the arrival of Dr. Belluomini, and his system could neither accelerate nor retard its execution. Her remains were in the first instance consigned to the church-yard of the cathedral in Manchester, but not long after exhumed and transported to Lacken, near Brussels, where she and her beloved De Beriot possessed a park and chateau. In a book purporting to be memoirs of the deceased vocalist, by the Countess de Merlin, it is stated that, " The committee of the ^Manchester musical festival wished to pay De Beriot the full amount of his wife's engagement, though she had only performed twice. This he refused!" Mr. Buun, in commenting on the numerous mis-statements in this pretended biography, says, in his work entitled "The Stage; Before and Behind the Curtain" (and he was likely to speak from certain knowledge) , with reference to this particular pas- sage — " De Beriot did no such thing, for he received every farthing of it." Malibran may be pronounced one of the greatest artists the world has ever produced. It is difficult to say whether she excelled most in acting or in singing, in tragedy or in comedy. There was a reality, an ear- nestness, an identity in all she did, which have seldom been equalled, and never surpassed. She was fond of money, and exacting in the terms of a bargain, but enthusiastically attached to her art, and jealous of even the shadow of rivalry. Her mind was in a perpetual fever of excitement. Cut off in the full bloom of youth, fortune, and professional reputation, to her may be aptly applied the impressive lines of Dryden : — OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 233 " A fiery soul, whicli, working out its way, Fretted the puny body to decay, And o'er inform'd the tenement of clay." On the 28th of June, 1835, died, on his fifty-ninth birthday, the inimitable Charles Mathews. We call him inimitable, for, thougli he had many followers, he left no successor, while he himself imitated all the world. He possessed also the faculty of ventriloquism in a rare degree. Mathews was the son of a Wesleyan bookseller in the Strand, who placed him for education in Merchant Taylors' School, where, we believe, he was a fellow- student with Charles Young. It was intended that he should follow his father's business ; but the stage seduced him into its more flowery paths. He obtained much celebrity in the York circuit ; and made his first appearance at the Hay market on the 16th of May, 1803, as Jahal, in the " Jew," and Lingo, in the " Agreeable Surprise." For many years before his death, he had ceased to practise as a legitimate member of any com- pany, and became joint proprietor of the Adelphi, in conjunction with his friend and pupil, Frederick Yates. The latter managed the theatre, while the former went round the country with his budget. Both were sup- posed to be eminently successful ; but read the " Me- moirs of Charles Mathews," and will it not be found written there, how, at the close of what was proclaimed one of the most successful seasons the Adelphi Theatre had ever witnessed, when the house could scarcely con- tain the crowds who nightly thronged the doors, the proprietors wound up their accounts with a surplus on the left-hand side, simply because the expenses exceeded any possible receipts? Let all theatrical speculators lay this salutary lesson to their hearts : the great secret of profitable management consists less in the sum you can 234 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES take than in tlie balance you can contrive to keep. The song says : — " How happy's the soldier that lives on his pay, And spends half-a-crown out of sixpence a day ;" We have never yet heard of any manager disposed to join chorus in this canticle. At the Adelphi, Mathews exhibited regularly his annual "At Home," and never were audiences more delighted than by the j endless variety of portraits which he so accurately sketched for them. But because Mathews established] unrivalled fame in this exclusive line of entertainment, and was admitted to be an imitator beyond parallel, it was usual with many to assert, that for this very reason he could not be an actor : and when he gave up appear- ing as a part of the whole, to take the entire task of entertaining an audience for three successive hours, without interval, on his own shoulders, exceptions criti- cism endeavom-ed to place him in a lower gi-ade than when he formed merely an item in a combined dramatis j)ersonce. As an actor, he would have been deemed greater, had not his peculiar vein given a handle to ready detractors to call that mimicry, which was, in fact, creation. The conclusion appears to us as illogical as it was ungenerous. Entertainments entirely supported by one person had often been given before the days of Charles INIathews. Foote, Tate Wilkinson, Henderson, and Bannister, were each celebrated and successful in their way : but Mathews was the first who added the Monojyolylogue, and wound up with a drama of many characters perso- nated by his single self. In this, the rapidity and com- pleteness of the changes, either as to countenance or costume, far surpassed anything of the kind attempted by the ablest of his predecessors. Harry Stoe Van Dyk OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 235 summed up the character of his professional powers in one comprehensive line : — " Thou live kaleidoscope, thou single Co.!" Mathews was irritable and eccentric to a proverb, full of crotchets and fancies, but withal warm-hearted, unsus- pecting, and liberal ; a most amusing companion, and a steady friend. He enjoyed the intimacy of Sir Walter Scott, Lord Byron, Moore, Kogers, and all the literati of his day ; was not unfrequently the guest of George IV. ; and his society was courted by the highest and noblest in the land. He was as much respected in his private, as applauded in his public life; and few men were more generally beloved by all who had an opportunity of becoming acquainted with his worth. He died poor, for which many causes might be assigned, including unsuccessful speculations ; although, with the exception of Edmund Kean, he received more money in a given period than any performer of his day. His widow and biographer, who knew him better than any one else, says, in an aifectionate tribute to his excellence, " he was one of the most unassuming possessors of genius that ever graced it with a life of undeviating rectitude and goodness." He was twice married, and had one child only, the present Charles Mathews, who inherits much of his father's genius, though not exactly in the same line. During the early part of William Abbott's first season as manager of the Dublin Theatre, Mathews, who was an intimate friend of his, accepted an engage- ment there, and commenced with the characters of Goldfinch and Morbleu, in Moncrieif^s popular farce of " Monsieur Tonson." On the nights when he appeared in the regular wav, the houses were thinly attended. When he gave his " At Home," they were filled to 236 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES suffocation. In the farce of " Monsieur Tonson," the part of Morhleu had been originally personated with great success by Montague Talbot, a favourite of long standing in the Dublin company, and still remembered by the patriarchs of the expiring generation.* During the first scene, when Mathews was beginning already to make a favourable impression, some half-dozen malcon- tents in the gallery raised a cry of "Talbot! Talbot!'^ which operated like an epidemic, and was speedily caught up by a few more. Mathews paused, appeared astonished, and at length said, " I hear a cry of 'Talbot! Talbot ! ' but I am unable to follow the meaning." " We want Talbot," was the reply. " You may have him/' muttered the indignant actor, sotto voce, bowed, and walked off the stage, under considerable excitement. * Talbot was a gentleman of good family and education, and a gra- duate of Trinity College, Dublin. His forte lay in light comedy and Frenchmen ; but his attempts in tragedy were ineffective. He is greatly lauded in Croker's "Familiar Epistles," where it is said of him :- " By art and nature chastely fit To play the gentleman or wit ; Not Harris's nor Colman's boards. Nor all that Drury Lane affords, Can paint the rakish Charles so well, Give so much life to Mirabel ; Or show, for light and airy sport, So exqusite a Doricourt!' Talbot was the original Bezem-elt in " De Montfort," at Drury LaneT a character unsuited to him, and in which he made little impression. In his decline, his notions of acting had become " veiy peculiar." Amongst other eccentricities, he discharged the duties of the Ghost in " Hamlet'* with tin eyes, fastened over his own, to do away with speculation, and a sort of revolving, ambient motion, under the idea that an immaterial, dis- embodied spirit should not stand as if fixed to earth, Init tloat etherially. More than one Eamlet has been sadly disconcerted by this strange demeanour of his father's spirit. In 1826, Talbot's partizans concocted the last of the Dublin '' Rows," which lasted several nights, the object being to compel JNIr. Henry Han-is, the manager, to engage liim con- trary to his wishes. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 237 The interruption then increased to an uproar. The manager came forward, and stated that his friend Mr. Mathews was merely there for a short engagement, to serve and oblige him ; tha;t'^ he performed, as a matter of course, his usual round of characters ; and that he was not come to displace Mr. Talbot, or succeed to his posi- tion. This address was received with universal ac- clamations, which redoubled when Mathews entered, immediatelj afterwards, and resumed his character. But, in a few moments, the mischievous spirits again shouted "Talbot! Talbot!" Mathews, never the most patient of men, now lost his temper entirely. He came forward and said, with brusque irritation, " Either you want to see this farce, or you do not ; so make up your minds at once. If I am interrupted again by this cry of ' Talbot ! Talbot ! ' I shall relieve you from my per- formance ; but it is rather too good, after having acted this part with universal applause in London and all the principal theatres in England, to come here and be an- noyed by you and your Talbot." It was thought he had now committed himself beyond recovery, and would be pelted off; but the audience suddenly veered round to the humorous point, took it all in good part, and there was no more " Talbot !" during the remainder of the engagement. A theatre has been sacked upon less •provocation. But Mathews visited Dublin no more, and never forgot the aflPront. To all subsequent appli- cations he replied laconically, " Talbot, Talbot." • The celebrated gallery of theatrical portraits which now graces the walls of the " Garrick Club," was originally formed by Charles Mathews. These pictures he collected with great taste and perseverance, and without any regard to the cost of such an expensive hobby-horse. For years they constituted the pride of his existence, and comforted him under many disap- 238 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES pointments. This is the only complete series of the kind ever formed, and devoted to one exclusive sub- ject. For those (and there are many) who delight to live on retrospection, and to multiply present enjoy- ments by a revival of the past, they possess a charm irrelevant of and superior to their pretensions as works of art ; and a power over the imagination and feelings wdiicli can be felt more easily than described. We may sit or stand for hours in dreamy abstraction, looking on the familiar faces and costumes which have so often thrilled the soul with high- wrought sentiment, or con- vulsed the faculties with immoderate mirth, imtil they step from their frames in animated reality, surround us in a band, and carry us far away into the realms of fancy. We persuade ourselves that we hear, and are mingling with the social intercourse, the lively green-room gossip, the professional jealousies, the sparkling jest, the biting- sarcasm, or the pungent anecdote. The little, busy world becomes instinct with life, variety, and conflicting passions. These musings are as salutary as they are delightful ; and, like the sleeping Caliban, when enjoy- ing visions of pleasant sights and sounds, we are almost ready to weep on awakening from them. The number of pictures collected by Mathews amounted to 388, according to the printed cata- logue. In the original purchase he sunk nearly 5,000?. He built a room expressly for their accommodation, at his residence. Ivy Cottage, Kentish Town, and took much delight in showing them to his friends. He was frequently bored by vapid, unmeaning cm*i- osity-hunters, many of them perfect strangers, who almost forced themselves in, and would have scarcely left him an hour to himself, had he admitted them all. But nothing afforded him more pleasure than to exhibit his gallery to friends, or even simple OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 239 acquaintances, who were attracted by true taste, and a rational desire to see what was known and admitted to "be one of the lions of the day. Mrs. Mathews says, in her Memoirs of her husband : — " So many came, whom to reject would have been personally mortifying to us, that our peaceful retreat was converted almost into a fatigue to us, too often having all the character of a show- place (from which I pray heaven to defend me !) where we lived more for others than for ourselves." When the pressure of circumstances compelled My. Mathews to break up his suburban establishment and live in London, it became absolutely necessary to part with the pictures. He could not endure the idea of their dispersion. The Garrick Club, it was said, ought to have them. Pleased with the idea of seeing them kept as an unbroken collection, where he could still look at his old associates whenever he felt inclined, the transfer was proposed at 3,0001 ; but the sum which the finances of the club at that time enabled them to offer, was so small (about one-fifth of the original cost), that the idea of their disposal was for the present wholly given up. The owner was then strongly ad- vised to exhibit them, to which with reluctance he con- sented, thinking their deserved popularity would assist and enhance the ultimate sale. It was well that he contemplated no immediate gain. In May, 1833, the exhibition was opened to public view, the price of admittance being one shilling. When the accounts were closed at the end of the period announced, it was found that the loss exceeded 140/. Thus it became evident, upon an unanswerable arithmetical calculation, that the troublesome curiosity, the rabid appetite of thousands, had been excited more by a desire to see the unrivalled Mathews, than Mathews' unrivalled show. When the original proprietor and 240 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES collector died, in 1835, his widow sold the pictures to Mr. John Rowland Durrant, the well-known and wealthy stock-broker, who purchased them for the Garrick Club, they paying him five per cent, interest until convenient to reimburse the capital. At his death, he bequeathed them as a free legacy to the club ; and thus they are permanently fixed (with many subsequent and valuable additions) in the most eligible of all resting places, which appears as if specially provided for their recep- tion, and secured against the probability of being diminished or dispersed. In the course of the season of 1836, Mr, Bunn intro- duced to the London public, in Drury Lane, the renowned hero of the buskin from America, Edwin Forrest. He came out in a native tragedy, written by Dr. Bird, of New York, entitled, the " Gladiator" — a sort of " raw- head and bloody-bones" affair, with here and there a vigorous passage approaching to poetry. But the hero, Spartacus, well suited the physical attributes of his representative. Forrest had a noble, muscular figure, with stentorian lungs. He might have stood for a model of the Farnesean Hercules, When commanded in the arena to kneel to the consul by the attendant officer, and he replied indignantly — " Kneel thou whose craven soul was form'd for crouchmg ; I am here to Fight ! " every one present felt that the athletic individual before them splendidly embodied the purpose for which he was produced. When called forward at the end of the play, to receive the congratulations of the audience, he thanked them very warmly for his reception, not only on his own account, but on the part of his friend, the author of the " Gladiator." But Mr. Bull gave him distinctly to understand that the welcome was intended for himself OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 241 I personally, and that the compliment by no means in- I eluded the literary importation. I Forrest was a bold, rough, manly actor, always in learnest, though frequently incorrect in his Shakespearean ■readings. His curse in Lear was tremendous, and his Isustained palsy natural, though painful to an extreme degree. His dialect was occasionally tinctured by American provincialisms, and he was too confirmed in his elocution and style — too dogmatic in temperament to alter or improve by London experience. Had he been brought up in a good classic school of acting, there was that within him which would have placed his name high in the foremost list. He lost much in the estima- tion of all well-thinking people, by going into the boxes 3f the Edinburgh theatre, after the termination of his 3wn engagement, and hissing Mr. Macready during his aerformance of Hamlet. If he disliked the "^;a5 de mouclioir^'' as he chose to call it, in the third act, good ;aste might have suggested to him to refrain from any public expression of his contempt for the conceptions of I brother actor. But our transatlantic brethren have rery bewildered notions of etiquette or delicacy. The death of the facetious George Colman, in October, .836, opened to Mr. Charles Kenible the appointment •f " Examiner of Plays," to which office he succeeded hrough his personal interest with the then Lord Cham- )erlain, the Marquis Conyngham. A better selection ould not have been made. Charles Kemble was a fine cholar, an experienced artist, well versed in all the arcana f theatrical business, a dramatic author himself, and an ccomplished gentleman in every sense of the word. )Ut the post was incompatible with his position as an ctor still before the public. He therefore determined ) retire, and went through a round of his favourite liaracters, winding up on the 3d of December, with VOL. I. E 242 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Benedick, in which he had long been without a com- petitor. On the 24th of March, 1840, he returned t( the stage for five nights, at the express desire, it was said, of her present gracious Majesty. The characters he appeared in were Don Felix, Mercutio, Benedick Charles Surface, and, finally, Hamlet, which reallj closed his theatrical career on the 10th of April. Thes( performances produced enormous receipts, hut the revivec actor gave his services gratuitously, and thereby renderec considerable service to the theatre in which his brothe: had sunk a large sum of money for a very unprofitabL return. Charles Kemble lived to a good age, dying s( recently as the 12tli of November, 1854, when he wai within a few days only of completing his seventy-nintl year. He was by much the youngest of the gifted race and being intended for one of the learned professions was sent at a very early age, by his brother John, to thi same continental seminary at which he had himself beei educated — the English college at Douay. He afterward; obtained a situation in the Post-office ; but finding thi duties irksome, unintellectual, and monotonous, resolved t( follow the family bent, and try his fortunes on the stage He came out as Malcolm, in " Macbeth," in 1794. Hii progress was slow. For several seasons he was con sidered little better than a walking gentleman ; but, b; time and perseverance, he succeeded in placing himsel in the highest rank. Through a mistaken ambitioi when managerial power enabled him to do as he pleasec, he constantly thrust himself before the public in Hamle Macbeth, and Othello. In these, and the loftiest wal of heavy tragedy, he never soared beyond respectabilit} while in Borneo, Macduff, Edgar, and Cassio, he evince an excellence which no other actor ever contested. ] his own line, a more elegant and finished perform never graced the boards. Those who remember hi OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 243 in the full vigour of his manly beauty, in such parts as Faulconbridqe, Marc Antony, Jaffier, Benedick, Mirabel, Mercutio, Charles Surface, and Don Felix, have seen specimens of acting in the best school, never surpassed, and which they may despair of seeing approached in these "fast" days, when the young aspirants of the stage hold themselves superior to the trammels of study, experience, or example, and expect to achieve "'sudden fame and fortune by a sort of impromptu inspiration. In 1837 the stage lost John Listen, of whom it may be said in the words of Ariosto, '■'■ Natura lo fece e poi ruppe la stampa,''' — Nature after compounding that ineffable physiognomy broke the mould. No human visage, no, not even Munden's, ever resembled or came up to the rich comic powers of Listen's. Heraclitus could not have looked upon that marvellous assemblage of features without being moved to laughter, while the proprietor himself would have remained imperturbable. His great and distinguishing excellence lay in the ease and apparent unconsciousness of effort with which he convulsed an audience. There was no hard straining, no deep delving for a joke which came up by reluctant instalments and produced a consumptive half-strangled laugh, dying in its own echo. The image is somewhat laboured like the humour it deprecates. I Listen was originally a pedagogue of humble preten- isions, a teacher's assistant in a day-school. How is it : possible to fancy boys looking seriously for a moment on that magazine of fun which his countenance must ever have exhibited ! By some strange infatuation he imagined himself destined to excel in the heroes of tragedy, and was not a little mortified when on benefit nights he played Romeo and Octavian in sober seriousness, and the audience insisted on receiving them as burlesques. George IV. encored him from the r2 244 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES royal box in Mawworms sermon, which ever afterwards stamped that unbecoming mummery with a singular reputation and a similar call. It appears strange that the laughter -loving public of Dublin should never have fully understood or tasted the humour of Liston It was a complete mystery to them, although they are (or rather were) entirely compounded of humour ; they neither enjoyed the style nor the pieces written for its peculiar illustration. Being invited in 1832 to make a farewell visit to the Irish metropolis : — " Xo," replied he, " they have seen me for the last time ; they don't laugh at my jokes ; they hiss all my new pieces, and I am rich enough not to expose myself to unnecessary mortification." His last appearance in Dublin was in the latter part of 1824, under the management of his friend William Abbott, when he felt so vexed at his cold reception, that he declared he would never come agam, and kept his word. Liston died on the 22d of J\Iarch, 1846, aged sixty-nine, in ne possession of a handsome fortune — the natm-al consequence of Kving within a large income, and of never having been led to engage, in any hazardous speculations. ; Another rich comedian, John Reeve, but of a clas.s and character quite distinct from Liston, died withir two years after him, on the 24th of January, 1848 He was more of a droll than a legitimate or classica actor, and excelled in burlesque. He had only entere( on his fortieth year. Habits of free living proved hi; bane, and brought him to an early tomb ; his style wa somewhat coarse and exuberant, but it must be ad. mitted that he was the personification of fun, jollitj and good humour. OF CHAKLES KEAN, F.S.A. 245 CHAPTER XIV. CHARLES KEAN MAKING RAPID GROUND IN THE PROVINCES — CORRESPON- DENCE WITH MK. MACREADY RELATIVE TO AN ENGAGEMENT AT COVENT GARDEN — ENGAGES WITH MR. BUNN APPEARS AS HAMLET AT DRURY LANE — UNPRECEDENTED SUCCESS^ — WARM EULOGIUMS OF THE LEADING PAPERS— CONTRAST OF POSITION AND PROSPECTS BETWEEN 1827 AND 1838. 1! n From 1833 to the close of 1837, Charles Kean 'I steadily pursued the course he had laid down for I himself; his eye was ever on the metropolis, but the j road through which he expected to reach it once °' ! more had many windings, and he resolved to traverse I them with patience, and not to jump hastily at any "' opportunity, no matter under how specious a form it ' might present itself. He now approached the culmi- '3 i nating point of his theatrical life — the apex, as it might be called, of his career. He had achieved great marvels in the country; his hold on all the leading provincial theatres was well secured, and, to a certain ''^ ] extent, he was perfectly independent of London. But ''' 1 still London success was the key-stone of his ambition, * j the crowning glory to which he aspired. The time had '" I come when the question was to be decided whether he had formerly been held down by prejudice, or really had not the abilities by some so pertinaciously denied to him. He was twenty-seven years of age, and had served an arduous apprenticeship of more than ten years. He was now to take his degree permanently amongst the masters of his craft, or to sink for ever t 246 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES into the ranks of mediocrity. His enemies (and they were numerous, as well as pertinacious) loudly pre- dicted his failure. To use their own favourite and elegant expression, he was nothing but a "lucky humbug," trading on his name and resemblance to his father. " Let him only face a London audience," said they, " and he will be found out at once." If they were right, all the audiences in the principal theatres throughout the kingdom, all the provincial press, were in a conspiracy to be wrong. His many friends, on the other hand, were equally confident of his triumph. Mr. Macready had entered on the management of Covent Garden in 1837; he was naturally anxious to secure all the strength he could muster, and invited Charles Kean to enter under his standard. The views i of both are clearly set forward in the correspondence; which took place between them : — " 8, Kent Terrace, Regent's Park, " London, July 22d, 1S37. " To Charles Kean, Esq. "Dear Sir,— " The newspapers may, perhaps, have informed you that I have taken Covent Garden Theatre. 1 have embarked in this hazardous enterprise, congenia neither to my habits nor disposition, in the hope o retrieving, in some measure, the character of our declin ing art, or at least of giving to its professors the con! tinuance of one of our national theatres, as a place fo its exercise, which most persons despaired of. Th performers have met the sacrifice I am prepared t make, with a spirit highly laudable to their feelings and I trust the event will prove not discreditable t their judgment. Every one has consented to a reduc tion of his or her claims, and I believe the names c OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 247 all our principal artists are entered on my list. Your celebrity has, of course, reached me ; in the most frank and cordial spirit, I invite you to a participation in the struggle I am about to make. I understand that your expectations are high ; let me know your terms, and, if it he ])0S8ibU, I will most gladly meet them, and do all in my power to secure your assistance, and give the completest scope to the full development of your talents. " I will not further allude to the cause for which I am making this effort, than to express my belief and confidence that your own disposition will [so far sug- gest to you its professional importance, as to insure us against any apprehension of your becoming an antago- nist, should you decline (as I sincerely trust you will not) enrolling yourself as a co-operator. " I remain, dear Sir. " Very faithfully yours, " W. C. Macready." " Cork, July 27, 1827- ''To W. C. Macready, Esq. "Dear Sir,— " I have had the honour to receive your very courteous letter ; and permit me, before I answer that portion of it which relates to myself, to congi-atulate you on the assumption of the Covent Garden manage- ment. "I assure you, with great sincerity, I think it a most fortunate circumstance for the drama and the public, that you have placed yourself at the head of this theatre, and that you occupy a position where your energies will sustain, your taste improve, and your influence elevate the stage. No one could be more 248 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES fitly chosen to preside where you do now. I say this without liesitation, and distinctly ; because, from your well-understood predilection for our classical plays, and your own range of parts, you will give those plays every possible preference ; and thus (to use your own words), ' retrieve in some measure the character of our declining art.' Connected as you now are with Covent Garden, con- trolling its business, and set over its destinies, allow me to wish you, for your own sake, and that of the profes- sion, a long term of prosperous management. " For your offer to me of an engagement, and your assurances of giving ' ample scope to the full develop- ment of my talents,' I thank you very much. Your invitation, and the kind and handsome manner in Avhich you offer it, are most flattering to me ; and though neither my inclination nor my interests point to London just now, still I set due value upon your encouraging proposal. But, let me tell you frankhj, that, were I to go to London, there have occurred some circumstances between Mr. Bunn and me, whereby he might hold me bound (were it only partially so) to him ; and even in a case where a contract was perhaps but implied, if Mr. Bunn made it a question of honour with me, I should, of course, be governed by the absolute and arbitrary dictate of such a monitor. I repeat, however, I do not contemplate a movement towards London for the present. " Another point in your letter demands a few words. You express your confidence that my own disposition will so far suggest to me the professional importance of your present enterprise, as to insure you against my becoming an antagonist elsewhere, should I decline your offer to co-operate with yourself. You may indeed believe that I could not, neither would \, oppose myself to the interests of any establishment or any individual. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 249 But surely you could never suppose that my acceptance of an engagement at any time, with any manager of the other great theatre, would involve hostility to you. The interests of both the national theatres are alike important to the public. I should naturally con- sider my own advantage in connecting myself with either, consistently with my rank in the drama, and its welfare generally ; and were I to assent to your idea of the case, I should necessarily shut myself out of a large sphere of action ; I might deprive myself of those professional associations I most valued ; I should, in fact, compromise my professional freedom and inde- pendence ; and it does not belong to the proud eminence you have yourself attained, to narrow my efforts in working out my individual fame. I labour hard in my profession, and, in doing this, if I can in any way, or at any season, contribute to your success, while honourably zealous for my own, it will gratify my feelings and my heart. " I remain, dear Sir, " Truly yours, " Charles Kean." " Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, " Augiist 2d, 1837. " To Charles Kean, Esq. "Dear Sir, — "I beg my observations may not be considered in the light of a desire to limit you in any way. I intended to convey to you my intention to concede as liberal terms as I supposed either you could demand, or any manager, with the means or purpose of paying you, could grant. Any expectation founded on such an intention was not meant to make a part of 250 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES the husiness of my letter. In inviting you to London, I fulfil a duty that devolves on me with my office, and I do so in the most frank and liberal spirit. '* I shall regret your absence, should you think it right to reject my overtures ; and with my very cordial thanks for the kind expressions of your letter, " I remain, dear Sir, " Yours truly, " W. C. Macready." In this correspondence, conducted with marked cour- tesy on either side, we find it difficult to understand why Mr. Macready fell into the diplomatic error of expecting from Charles Kean a promise or pledge that if he declined coming to him, he would at least abstain from going elsewhere. It was false policy without the chance of success ; as the other, unless he were insane, would surely pay no heed to such a suggestion. He judged that, according to the plan laid down by Mr. Macready, it could not possibly come within his views to place him in the exclusive position at which he had so long aimed. He, therefore, paused to deliberate well before he hazarded the London venture, and finally closed with the offer of Mr. Bunn, to act twenty nights, at Drury Lane, with a salary of 507. per night. That he decided wisely in preferring an arena entirely unoccupied, was evidenced in the most conclusive manner by the result. Had he fallen into the ranks at Covent Garden, he might have proved a valuable recruit, but he would never have risen to a truncheon of command. On the 8th of January, 1838, he appeared as Hamlet, — a memorable evening in his own history — with a tri- umphant issue, never surpassed in the history of the stage. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 251 The play was cast thus : Claudius, King of Denmark . . . Mr. Baker. Hamlet Mr. Charles Kean. Polonius Mr. Dowton. Laertes Mr. King. Horatio Mr. H. Cooke. Rosencrantz Mr. F. Cooke. Guildenstern Mr. Duruset. Osric Mr. Brindal. First Actor Mr. Mc Ian. Second Actor Mr. T. Matthews. First Gravedigger Mr. Compton. Second Gravedigger Mr. Hughes. Ghost of Hamlet's Father . . . Mr. Cooper. Gertrude, Queen of Denmark . . Mrs. Ternan. Ophelia Miss Romer. The house was crowded from orchestra to upper gallery. The new Hayyilet was received with enthusiasm. From his entrance to the close of the performance the applause was unanimous and incessant. The celebrated "Is it the King?" in the third act, produced an electrical effect. To use a favourite expression of his fatlier's, " the pit rose at Mm.'''' At the conclusion he was called for, and hailed with reiterated acclamations. " Caps, hats, and tongues applauded him to the clouds." The success was solid, substantial. There was no array of hired claqueurs, no packing in the pit, no pre-arranged signals, no mana- gerial influence to forestall or misrepresent unbiassed judgment. It was an honest verdict by an impartial jury. The day following, the most influential journals corroborated the opinion of the public. The articles were elaborately written with sound critical acumen, and with candour, kindness, and ability. The Times* spoke thus : — * Mr. Michael Nugent, at that time theatrical critic of the Times, and a writer of much experience, was the author of the article. 252 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES " After a very successful probation in the provinces, Mr. Charles Kean appeared last night again on these boards, where, a few years since, when a mere boy, he endeavoured to conciliate public favour. That was an immatured and ill-judged attempt, and, as might be expected, ended in failure. The mind of the play-going public was still filled with a vivid recollection of the transcendent talents of the elder Kean, who had tempo- rarily retired, and however kind their feelings might be towards the young aspirant, they could not avoid show- ing their discontent at the incapacity of the nominis umhra, who thus early sought, or more probably, per- haps, was solicited, to vault from the school-room into the then vacant tragic chair. Defeated in the first in- stance, he did not abandon the profession. He laboured to improve himself, and subsequently appeared at Covent Garden and the Haymarket, At each of these theatres his exertions effected nothing for the manager in the way of money; nothing for the actor in the way of fame ; still he was not disheartened. A long course in the provinces he thought would do him service. If he succeeded there, he felt that much of the trepidation and awe, which, before a London audience, in a gi-eat degree paralysed his powers, would be removed, and he would have a fair and honest hold on the feelings of those who came in a just and honest spirit to witness his perform- ance. We like these strugglings against untoward circumstances. They speak the workings of a deter- mined mind, which thinks, however the world may have been inclined to slight it, that there are within itself seeds not merely of talent but of genius. Thus much for the early efforts of Mr. Charles Kean. " Now for what we may call his real debut., when expe- rience and judgment have come to the aid of his natural faculties, and made him, in one character certainly, that OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 253 of Hamlet, an accomplished, elegant, and, when the scene requires it, an energetic actor without bombast. Such we think were the leading features of his per- formance last night. He has taken a fine, philosophical view of the part. The groundwork is melancholy ab- straction, sometimes diverted from its vein by the recol- lection of circumstances which elicit passion, or by the interference of court-flies, who sting a gallant nature to sarcasm and reproach by their sinister actions. The sombre hue of the character was well preserved by Mr. Kean, and those occasional bursts of tearful emotion which are directed by Hamlet's knowledge of his father's fate, and his own irresolution in not at once doing- execution on the murderer, were finely contrasted with the prevailing melancholy. Mr. Kean delivered the soliloquies with great feeling, and consequently with corresponding effect. We look, however, for his excellences in the more active scenes •of the play. His rencontre with his father's spirit, where astonishment, awe, and reverence were com- . mingled, was finely acted. The celebrated scene with Ophelia was well imagined, and was as well played before the audience. Here Mr. Kean was wholly dif- ferent from any person we have ever before seen in .the character. There was enough of violence in his manner to justify the grossly lascivious king in saying, " Love ; — his affections do not that way tend ;" but there was also enough of tenderness and delicacy to show to tenderer and more delicate minds that his very heart-strings were breaking, while in his assumed frenzy he was saying unkind things to one whom he entirely loved. The closet scene with his mother was acted with great power. His attitude and look when, having slain 254 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Pohnius, he rushes in exclaiming " Is it the King?" fully deserved the immense applause which followed one of the most striking scenic exhibitions we have witnessed for a long time. In the play scene, Mr. Kean was good ; but though at the conclusion he re- ceived much applause, there was less marking about it, less force, less power, than we have seen manifested by others. His last scene was very good. He fences not merely gracefully but skilfully. We need not say that the house was on this occasion crowded from the pit to the ceiling. The jury before whom Mr. Kean appeared was not a packed one. There was no indiscriminate applause. Assuredly where applause was given, and the instances were very frequent, it was well merited. Looking to the whole of ]Mr. Kean's performance we are greatly pleased with it. It may, however, be ren- dered even better. His pauses are in many instances so long that he fails to make the point at which he is aiming. Again, he carries the weeping sentimentality of Hamlet into situations where he is a mere abstract speculator. The beautiful lines commencing, " Im- perious Cffisar, dead and turned to clay," do not want tears to enforce their moral — the nothingness of defunct mortality. Mr. Kean's reception was of the most cheering de- scription. When he appeared, the applause from every part of the house was enthusiastic ; and throughout the evening the same anxious wish to encourage (we hope now no longer struggling) merit was observable. At the conclusion of the tragedy he was loudly called for, and he made very gracefully his obeisance to a much delighted audience. He certainly has succeeded in giving a very elegant and finished portrait of Hamlet. What he will do with the RicJiards and Macheths is yel to be proved. That he has mind for them we car OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 255 imagine, but yet we cannot speak with anything like decision of Iiis physical powers." The notice in the Morning Post ran thus : — "The old times of Drury seemed last night to have come back again. Never, in its most palmy days, did we witness a greater crowd — never more enthusiasm in an au- dience — and scarcely ever more success in a perform- ance. It was gratifying to witness once more such a house assembled, to delight themselves with one of Shakespeare's plays, and that play, Hamlet — the most refined, perhaps, and most touching of them all. The house was crowded to the roof, and gave Mr. Charles Kean as warm a reception as it is possible to imagine that an actor could receive. He might well say, as his father did before him, that '* the pit rose at him." But it was not the pit alone, but the whole house which rose, and by acclamations loud and long continued, by waving of hats and handkerchiefs, and by every possible demon- stration of welcome, testified their gladness to see Mr. Kean, or (as his Irish friends would say), to see his father's son. From the beginning to the end IMr. Kean's performance was brilliantly successful. We never saw an audience which seemed better pleased, and though we do not hold this by any means an infallible criterion of an actor's merit, it is one upon which much dependence may generally be placed ; and in the present case we think the decisive judgment of the audience was well borne out. " We do not think, indeed, that the performance of j\Ir. Kean was without fault, or that all the parts of it which brought down great applause were entitled to the praise of the considerate and judicious ; but, as a whole, the performance was striking, energetic, skilful, and unde- formed by any such marked blemish as would mar this general impression in the mind of even the most 256 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES fastidious. Our readers are aware that there are two styles of performing Hamlet^ which, like the two great divisions in the modern French literature of fiction, may- be called the classic and the romantic. Within the memory of present audiences the late Mr. Kean was the most prominent representative of the romantic style ; and the late actor — but we are happy to say the still- living private gentleman — Mr. Young, was the most distinguished professor of the classic style. We shall not now enter upon the controversy as to which of the two general modes of performance ought to be preferred ; both have undoubtedly their excellences, and both their defects. An even, uniform performance, however well considered, however dignified in its energy and delicate in its pathos, may be said to be scarcely appli- cable to one whom Shakespeare certainly intended should exhibit strong contrasts : — " This is mere madness, And thus awhile the fit will work on him. Anon, as patient as the female dove, When that her golden coui)lets are disclos'd, His silence will sit drooping." On the other hand, the imagination of most readers of sensibility has been so apt to associate the character of Hamlet with melancholy meditation, that persons of a pensive temperament are almost offended at any de- parture from the serious dignity and philosophic scenes which are the prevading characteristics of Hamlet. He is the man so weary of the world and its sin that he wishes he was dead — who looks upon all the uses of this world as weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable. In this key is the character pitched ; and however airy, , fantastical, satirical, may be its occasional flights, to this deep note of melancholy does it ever return, and we feel OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 257 that he has that within, of killing grief, ' that passeth show.' " Of Mr. Charles Kean's performance we should say that he tries to combine the two styles to which we have alluded; but he is an hereditary actor, and his nature leads him to the romantic. That style materially pre- ponderates. He has evidently studied much, as well as gained much experience, since he last appeared in London, and the result has been remarkable improve- } ment. In height, in gait, in expression of countenance, and especially in voice, he bears the strongest resem- blance to his father. We should not say that the features jof his face are like his father's, or so good ; but the shape of the forehead is the same — the piercing dark eye is the jsame — and, above all, the voice, husky in its energy, land soft, distinct, and clear in its lower and more sub- jdued tones — is exactly that of his father. There were imany passages — not those, we confess, which we liked jbest — in which the mannerisms of the old favourite were iSO vividly brought to mind, that the house rang again iwith applause. Indeed, it struck us occasionally that the audience were determined to enjoy two poets on the one evening — that Eogers as well as Shakespeare had something to do with their delight, and ' The Pleasures Df Memory,' as well as ' Hamlet, Prince of Denmark,' Dccupied their attention, and contributed to their satis- faction. "We believe that, at the very commencement, Mr. C. Kean was somewhat overwhelmed with the enthusiasm )f his reception ; and the extreme slowness of his enun- dation, together with a certain tremulousness which may lot have been intended, threw an expression of grief — ilmost sobbing grief — into his first speeches that the )est interpreters of the character have not, we think, ontemplated. Hamlet speaks, indeed, of the 'fruitful VOL. I. s 258 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES river in the eye,' as one of the shows of grief to whicl the Queen had referred, but it is scarcely consistent witl his appearing in public at all that he should then, whil speaking, be almost weeping too. Mr. Kean's soliloquies thougli well delivered, are not the happiest parts of hi performance : and it was not until the interview wit] Hoi-atio, Marcellus, and Bernardo^ in which the appear ance of the Ghost is related to him, that the spirit of th actor fairly showed itself. The ' In my mind's eye, Horatio,' which was, indeed, most like Edmund Kean's manne of delivering that passage, was loudly applauded ; ani thenceforward, through all the action of the pla^^ similar applause was elicited. It struck us that nothin could be more admirable than tlie conception of M Kean's performance when his companions find him aft his interview with the Ghost. He played it as if whe; first speaking to them of secrecy he had intended tell them all that he had heard, and with that inte tion begins, — ' There's ne'er a villain dwelling in all Denmark,' but then, suddenly remembering the prudence of keep his own secret, lie turns it off with — ' But he's an arrant knave.' Mr. Kean paused between these two lines, and di- vered the second in quite an altered tone. "The third act is the great trial of a performeic Hamlet, and ]\Ir. Kean came well through that till Not that we think the famous soliloquy beginning, ' be or not to be,' was given as well as Mr. Young i to give it ; but from that forward the performs ; throughout the act was admirable, unless we sh( I OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 259 . except what seemed to us a mncli too rapid deliveiy of that most Shakespearean passage : — * I am myself indifferent honest ; but yet I could accuse me of such things, that it were better my mother had not home me : I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious ; with more offences at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do crawling between heaven and earth ! We are arrant knaves, all ; believe none of us.' ita ' This was hurried over with such rapidity that the quickest ears could scarcely follow the words. But the speech to the players was given with delightful ease and nature. The intensity with which he regarded the King at the play, and the exulting conviction with which he leaped up as the King bursts away, conscience-struck, from the scene, were also most natural and vivid ; and ]lithe whole of the scene with his mother was a triumph of bold, vigorous, judicious, and delicate acting. The voice of anxious inquiry — the attitude — the depth of eager expression with which, when returning from slay- mteijing Polomus behind the arras, he asks, — ' Is it the King ? ' was as successful as any piece of performance we ever saw. " In the dying scene we thought there was rather a needless protraction of the hideous pantomime of disso- lution. Prince Hamlet died rather too elaborately, espe- cially as Mr. Kean had presently after to appear before ^^ * the curtain, to receive the renewed shouts of applause, and to witness once more all manner of encomiastic gesticulation. We learned after we had left the theatre — we own to our very great astonishment — that Mr. Kean had certainly never seen his father play Hamlet. A ^ We should have concluded from his performance that he ^0 m^jst i^ave seen him represent the character often. « ^'^ Upon the whole, the performance of last night at Drury s2 keepi 260 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Lane was, in technical phrase, so decided a hit that we apprehend few who ever go to a theatre at all will be satisfied without seeing it, and we expect that the en- gagement of Mr. Kean will be of the utmost advantage to the establishment." The tone of the Globe was equally laudatory with that of the Post^ but the respective critics differed a little in their estimate of particular points. The Globe said : — " The second avatar of Mr. Charles Kean took place last night, when the rich promise given by the crude efforts of his boyhood was amply redeemed. The reports which have for some time past reached us from the provinces, had prepared the public mind for a more than ordinary display of talent, and the house, in consequence, was so full that the management, we conceive, are now able to calculate to a fraction what it will contain. Nc thing could be more cheering than the first receptioi given to the debutant (for in this light we considei him) ; the applause lasted full three minutes by ' oi stop watch,' and seemed to act powerfully on the objec of it, as the first few words he had to utter were trema lous and indistinct. This agitation, however, was bi momentary, and Hamlet was ' himself again.' Minut to criticise the performance of such a character woi carry us into a wider field than our limits would affor but as all our readers are familiar with the part, it be sufficient for us to mention a few of the chief exc lences (for most excellent Mr. Kean's personation throughout) displayed on this occasion ; and we contc ourselves with so doing, the rather that, unquestionab]| every admirer of Shakespeare will take an early opf tunity of judging, in this instance, for himself. " 3Ir. Kean's conception of the part was good ; it we i'i!itt!( OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 261 ■'^ti ■y.k melancholy abstraction, the vacillation, the derangement •'^■* of ' a noble mind o'erthrown,' partly affected and partly real, were finely delineated. In the first scene T\'ith the Ghost, he reminded us much of his father ; it was? however, no servile imitation, but evidently a similarity of conception similarly embodied. The interview with his mother in her closet, too, was admirably sustained, and the effect of his exclamation, ' Is it the King ? ' electrical. If, however, we were to analyze minutely Mr. Kean's performance, we should not hesitate to give the palm to the soliloquies. In the first place, they were real solilo- quies, and not a sort of ' asides ' to the pit, as is too generally the case. In that fine burst of indignation at his own want of firmness — ' 0, what a rogue and peasant slave am I ! ' he was eminently successful, and with great good taste restored many of those brilliant lines of the poet which fashion or convenience has of late years banished from the speech. The scene with Ophelia was well worked otit, though he received but tonad little support from her fair representative, whose excellence 9 l)j '0 was confined to the musical part of the character. In tiitoli the fencing match his elegance and skill were displayed mtraii |o great advantage. We need scarcely add, that Mr. jijsl Kean was called for, and cheered with the greatest )liinit( enthusiasm, at the fall of the curtain. It was impossible ^ won that his triumph could have been more complete, and we ^ jfibi take our leave of him for the present, with the sincerest ngratulations upon his success — a success which has tamped his character, and made his fortune." It refreshes the spirit to read these honest, straight- brward expressions of opinion, from men who. while they knew how to criticise, wrote without a bias, and felt what they described. We have selected the extracts [Tom many of the same tone, and could multiply them neejiti 262 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES readily, but too mucli space would be occupied, and enough are given to show that the impression of this first performance was most flattering to the actor, and fully vindicated the judgment of his friends. Had he been endowed with the united ambition of Alexander, Csesar, and Napoleon, his loftiest aspirations must have been more than realized by the result of the 8th of January, 1838. Far different were the feelings of his mother and himself, when, on the morning following, their breakfast- table was strewed with the encomiums of the leading journals, from that deep mortification with which they had been overwhelmed ten years before from the same source which now conferred their happiness. Presently, there arose a few dissentient cavillers, but their cen- sure passed unheeded and innocuous amidst the over- whelming torrent of approbation. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 263 CHAPTER XV. COMPLIMENTARY AND CRITICAL LETTERS. There could now no longer be any doubt as to the position Charles Kean was thenceforward to hold. His place in the foremost rank of his profession was esta- blished. He had received the diploma for which he had so ardently toiled. His performances were continued for forty-three nights with undiminished attraction, and would have been protracted to a much longer period without intermission, but that a previous engagement in Edinburgh interfered, and compelled his temporary absence from London. Increased terms were offered to him if he could effect a compromise, by which that absence might be suspended. He felt the full disadvan- tage of the break, but determined not to disappoint his northern friends, to whom he was under many obligations. Attentions were now lavished on him from every side — his society was courted by persons of the highest rank — his desk literally groaned beneath the weight of cards, invitations, and congratulatory letters. From the latter, a few selections may not be considered inappro- priate : — From Lady Morgan. " 6, Stafford Row, Buckingham Palace, " Jan. 10th, 1838. "My dear Mr. Kean, — " I trust I am amongst the earliest, as I am certainly amongst the sincerest, to congratulate you on a success 264 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES which I prophesied. I am so blind that I shall reserve further observations and congratulations till we meet, which I trust will be soon. Sir Charles and myself will be delighted to see you, at present in Stafford Row, and in a few days, more comfortably in our own house, which is at present in the hands of the workmen. We are always at home from two till five. Alas ! for our poor Duchess \* How proud she would have been of your triumph. Tell Mrs. Kean I envy her her feelings. How far sweeter is the success of those we love, than our own, I can well tell. With Sir Charles and my niece's best compliments, " My dear Mr. Kean, " Most truly yours, " Sydney Morgan. P.S. '^I confide this to the most worthy two-penny, as I am ignorant of your address, and my footman is Irish." Fro7n Lady Burdett. " Lady Burdett's compliments to Mr. Kean, and begs to offer him her very best congratulations on his distinguished success on his first appearance last evening. " St. James's Place, Tuesday, Jau. 9th, 1S3S." From Lady Blakeney. " Royal Hospital, Dublin, " Jau. ISth, 1S2S. " My dear Mr. Kean, — " It is impossible to express how much gratified both Sir Edward and myself have been by hearing of your * The Duchess of St. Albau's, one of jMr. C. Kean's steadiest fiiends and patronesses, who had died five montlis before, on the 6th August, 1837. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 265 complete and unbounded success in London. "We have read the newspapers with the greatest pleasure, contain- ing, as they all do, such delightful accounts of your reception and triumph. Had it been otherwise, we should have been greatly surprised, feeling how deeply indebted we, and all your numerous friends in Dublin, have frequently been to you, in witnessing your splendid talents. That prosperity, health, and happiness may ever attend you, is, my dear Mr. Kean, Sir Edward's and my most sincere prayer, and believe me, " Very sincerely yours, "Mary Blakeney." From the late General Sir G. D'Aguilar. " Dublin, 13tb Jan. 183S. "My dear Kean, — " I congratulate you with all my heart on the bril- liant success of your debut. You must never complain of the Press again. Take it all in all I think it is most laudatory. I like the Times critique best. To be ' an accomplished, elegant, and energetic actor of Hamlet, without bombast,' is the highest praise. " I am full of business at this moment, but I cannot refrain from sending you this line, and requesting you to make my best respects acceptable to your good mother, whose existence will, I trust, be lengthened by many years more of pleasure and of pride. " Ever faithfully yours, "George D'Aguilar. " Have you seen Mr. Bulwer ?" 266 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES From Lord Viscount Morpeth, now Earl of Carlisle. " Jan. 9, 1838. " My dear Mr. Kean, — "As one not the least interested amongst that crowded and fervid audience which witnessed your appearance last night, allow me to wish you joy on its complete and unequivocal success, and on the entire self-mastery and command of your powers, which you exhibited under circumstances naturally trying. Do not trouble yourself to acknowledge this, but accept my most cordial wishes for your welfare in every possible respect. " I am, " Your faithful servant, " Morpeth." ' From Edward Goulburn, Esq. " 21, Park Street, or Serjeant's Inn, " Chancery Lane. " Friday, Jan. 12, 1838. "My DEAR Sir, — " When at Brighton, I understood that you would have been good enough to let me know when your appearance in London was to take place. I truly, how- ever, rejoice to hear (as I do from all quarters) of its entire success. I hear from my friend, Serjeant Tal- fourd, a most gratifying account. " I am anxious to have the pleasure of making you known to him, and also to Lord Denman (for whom I was commissioned to procure a box to witness your per- formance), and I wish you would name some early day, or, perhaps, in order to secure their presence, two days, on which I could have the pleasure of seeing you at dinner, at my house, which, I need not add, would give me great gratification ; and I hope on one of these to OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 267 find them disengaged, and able to meet you. I send this to Drury Lane, where I take it for granted it will find its way to your hands ; and believe me, with hearty congratulations, " Yours most sincerely, "Edwakd Goulbuen." From Sm Thomas Dick Lauder, Bart. " The Grange House, Edinburgh, " 12th Jan. 1838. "My dear Eean, — " I hope I need not use many words to convince you how much delighted all in this family have been, by the agreeable intelligence we have heard of your triumphant appearance at Drury Lane. It comes upon us by no means as matter of surprise ; for, in fact, it is no more than I have been all along most sanguinely anticipating — and I think that I do not now anticipate too much, when I say, that if it pleases God to spare you to a reason- able span of life, you will yet be reckoned the first actor since Garrick^s time. Instead of writing thus drily, with this abominable iron pen, I wish I was within reach of your hand, to give it such a hearty shake as my feelings at this moment would dictate. God bless you, and may your career from henceforward be as glo- rious as you deserve. " I hope that we in the provinces are not to be cut out of our usual visit from you, because you have now climbed to the top of the tree. I long to see you again amongst us. I was at Howick lately, and had a long talk about you with Colonel Grey, as well as about all our old friends of the 71st. The Colonel is now in constant attendance at Windsor, and I think it looks 268 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES very like as if his corps was destined for Canada. What a dehghtful person Mrs. Grey is ! I fell quite in love with her. " I begin to think that it is a piece of great presump- tion in me to have ventured on such an intrusion as this at such a time, when no doubt millions of billets doux from fair damsels are brought to you every hour, and when it cannot be supposed that such an epistle as mine may hope for consideration. But treat it as you may, it is a poor offering, but an honest offering of the heart, and as such it deserves to be forgiven. With our united best wishes and hearty congratula. tions, believe me, " My dear Kean, "Ever yours most sincerely, "Trios. Dick Lauder." From Lord Meadowbank. " 11, Hanover Terrace, Edinburgh, " Thm-sday. "My dear Kean,— " I enclose you a copy of Lockhart's letter, just as I received it. He said to me that he had no doubt you had the power of equalling any actor who had ever lived. He is, in short, as friendly a critic as you could have, but he is sometimes severe. Knowing well the London audience, his remarks are worth your having. In haste, "Yours faithfully, "A. Maconochie." I OF CHAKLES KEAN, F.S.A. 269 From J. G. Lockhart, Esq.* to Lord Meadowbank. " London, Jan. 17th, 1838. " My dear Lord, — " I saw young Kean in Hamlet, and Avas not disap- pointed in tlie main ; though I did not recognize what had been described to me as the chief merit of his per- formance of that most difficult part ; and I wish you, who have I believe very great authority with him, would caution him that, if he has altered what was so much admired in Scotland, from apprehension of his physical powers being inadequate to do full justice to his own conceptions, in our great theatres here, he is mistaken totally, and may incur a sad risk of marring his destiny. His whisper is as effective as ever Mrs. Siddons's was, and, though I was near, I think his features must tell equally at a distance, as the lines are cut with singular decision. I had been told that he was distinguished from other actors of Hamlet by his ordinary demeanour and tone being quiet, as certainly would best become a prince who had been 'the glass of fashion,' into what- ever state of melancholy abstraction he might have fallen. Kean realized this admirably in his advice to the players, and I could not but think, ' Oh, if he would but stick throughout to his own rules as he now practises them ! "■ He injured, to my feeling sadly, the eflPect of his most beautiful scene on the battlements, by having pre- viously given various parts with a too theatrical vehe- mence ; and, in general, 1 thought he often uttered * Many years editor of the Quarterly Revieiv; the son-in-law, hte- rary executor, and biographer of Sh' Walter Scott. He was a caustic critic, very difficult to please, and full of strange conceits ; but keen and shrewd withal. 270 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES •^ith passionate gesticulation, -^hat Shakespeare meant to be scarcely beyond a whisper. This must be the case with all soliloquies ; and I take it the same rule holds as to all such involuntary expressions of desolate regret over youth and hope departed, as occur throughout Hamlet — nowhere more than in the lamentation over the loss of all power to see beauty in the external world. He acted that passage. I think he should have whis- pered it, with hardly a gesture, except to cast his eyes upwards to the ' golden fires.' Perhaps the truth is, however, that he attributes a more prominent madness to Hamlet than I take the poet to have designed. If so, I saw too well his deep study of the play, to be rash or bold in my dissent from his judgment. I can only speak my own feeling, and it was, that occasional un- called for energy and violence disturbed the general effect of a very graceful and touching performance. " He cannot know how infinitely superior the sweet, melancholy tones of his voice are to all the rest. His pathos and tenderness in many places were never ex- celled. He will never declaim like Kemble, but he may go beyond any actor I have seen in sober, simple, gentleness of effect, if he will — and I think rival any, even his father, in easy variety. I was much gratified ; for, in truth, I never could see any merit in any trage- dian of late years, and I thought I should never see any of Shakespeare^s higher parts done the least justice to again. I shall certainly go to see ' Hamlet ' again very soon, and whatever of that file he takes up next. I am anxious especially for the Macbeth and the Lear. The theatre used to be one of my chief delights, and I feared it was lost to me for ever, like ' many others.' I think I may add that something of the general objec- tions I have hinted, seemed to be felt by the ladies I was in company with, and they are, as he won't deny. OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 271 the most delicate of all critics on matters of deportment and gesture. " I hope IMr. C. Kean may have a long and prosperous career, and die with a fortune like Garrick's, and a character like John Kemble's. " Ever truly yours, "J. G. LOCKHART. "P.S. Do you remember what Goethe says — that Hamlet's sensibilities are like a rose-tree that has grown too big for its china vase ?" Some time after the date of the foregoing letter, when Charles Kean was balloted for, and admitted as a mem- ber of the Athenaeum Club, Lockhart wrote the follow- ing note to Colonel Gore, one of the Committee : — " Athenseuni, March 21st. "Dear Colonel, — " Do be kind, and introduce young Kean as a child of the Committee, therein gratifying his high and laudable ambition ; and showing your own skill in the recognition of true merits — professional, moral, and social. " Yours most truly, "J. G. Lockhart." From Serjeant, afterwards Judge, Taleourd. " Temple, 29tli Jau. 1838. "My dear Sir, — " The flattering terms in which you were so kind as to speak of my dramatic poem C^ Ion ') when I had the pleasure of meeting you on Saturday, encourage me to request your acceptance of one of the very few remain- ing copies of the unpublished edition, which in type and paper may be less unworthy a place in your library 272 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES than the play as printed for sale. I am proud that it should meet with any share of the approbation of one whose rich hereditary claims on the sympathy of the English people, have been superseded by the triumphs of his own genius, and who is entering on a brilliant career, which I trust Avill long be associated with the noblest efforts of the great writers of past times, and with the hopes and successes of those who may humbly seek to follow them. " Believe me, my dear Sir, " Very truly yours, "T. N. Talfourd." " 56, Russell Square, " 14th Feb., 1S3S. ''My dear Sm, — " If you should be disengaged on Saturday, the 24th, and can allow me the honour of your company at dinner, at a quarter before seven, I shall very highly esteem the favor of your company. As I shall leave town for the Circuit on Sunday or Monday following, I have not the opportunity of oflFering you a choice of days — mine being limited to Saturdays and Sundays — which other- wise I should prefer ; but I should be extremely sorry to postpone the pleasure of your society until after my return from my sad prosaic duties, and yours from the delightful welcome which I know awaits you in the beautiful city where your success was predicted and ensured. I have not yet been able to see you in Richard, but I rejoice to hear of your triumph from those on whom I can rely ; and I hope, before the day when I solicit the pleasure of seeing you at my house, to realize the picture they have given me. " Believe me, my dear Sir, " Very faithfully yours, " T. N. Talfoukd." OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 273 From J. H. Merivale, Esq.* " Sunday, Feb. 26, 1838. My dear Kean, — " I endeavoured to find you at the stage-door last night, to tell you how highly I had been gratified by your performance of the Prince of Denmark, which, I can safely assure you, in many points, I never saw per- sonified so much in accordance with my own conception of the part as by yourself. But the porter did not know how to direct me to you, and seemed to think you had already either left the house, or adjourned to one of the private boxes. Herman was with me, and «re were both in the pit, for the sake of seeing you to bhe best advantage. If I were to specify the parts of j^our performance that pleased me most, they are these : ;he first scene, in which the soliloquy ' Oh, that these/ kc, was spoken far more suitably, to what I judge to lave been the poet's own intention, than by any other tor I have seen, not excepting your father or Kemble the scene with the Ghost, which was full of strong d earnest feeling, and gave evident marks of original ins — and that with the Queen Mother. Those in hich I fancied you less successful, and in which I think lou may still greatly improve, are the scenes with Ophelia and with the Gravediggers. In the first, though uich of it was well and strongly imagined, I thought ou too harsh and abrupt, even for assumed madness. a the latter you appeared to me too solemn and ' The friend and schoolfellow of Lord Byron ; a staunch advocate and lolesonie adviser of Edmund Kean. Amongst other literary works he iil)ted to the stage the three parts of Henry the Sixth, under the title of '(■hard Duke of York, which was played with great effect by the elder san, at Drury Lane in 1819. Mr. Merivale translated the Greek ithology in conjunction with the Rev. Robert Bland, and ^vrote a poem 'led Orlando in RoncesvaUes. He became subsequently a commissioner the new Bankruptcy Court. VOL. L T 274 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES j studied. The moralizing reflections on the skull, though prompted by deep feeling, and habits of philo- sophical thought, being intended to be rather sportively, or, if I may say so, whimsically, than sententiously or gravely uttered ; especially the extravaganza of Csesar stopping a beer barrel, which is a mere piece of gro- tesque work, like the grinning heads or faces on the j | roof of an old Gothic cathedral, and illustrating what is often met with in real life— a propensity to jest with one's own wretchedness. You, on the contrary, spoke it as if it was a grave sermon, than which nothing can be more unlike. " Now will you show that you forgive me the freedom ^ of these observations, by saying that you will come and • take your dinner with us on Wednesday the 6th, or if ^ you should be engaged on that day, on Friday, the 8th: "of March, at six o'clock, and let me know which it shall be. " Yours very truly, " J. H. Merivale." From Serjeant Adams. " Com-t of Exchequer, "MY DEAR SIR,- "Nov. 17, 1836., " Mrs. Adams has this morning sent me your mesi sage. I can quite understand your scene with Laertes in which I should have forgiven you, if you had disj played as much feeling, though of a difi'erent naturefj as you did with your Queen Mother. The case waj ' desperate. ; " I am inclined to trouble you with a few of m| opinions on your Eamlet, because, as an old admirer (j your father, and so nearly connected with the history •' your family, they may derive a value in your eyes, 1 OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 275 which they are not intrinsically entitled. Hamlet is a character which I have studied more deeply than any other in our immortal poet. I have seen every great actor who has appeared in it^ from John Kemble down- wards. I remember them all. The first characteristic of your performance is its originality. The second, its depth of feeling and pathos. Your conceptions on these points are so just, that they seem as if they were the real feelings of a youth called forth by actual circumstances. spoil jiig only doubt I have is, whether ?i prince, accustomed ^s*^ to a court, would express them in a manner so true to nature. Your answer will be — they are expressed in teedon solitude, where the prince gives way to the man. " The whole of your scene with the Ghost is beyond araise. It had the same truth — it was the son awe- struck by his father's spirit. I observed that you idopted Young's reading of ' But you'll reveal it,' &c., irhich I am sure is the correct one. Are you quite at iberty to cut out ' my tablets,' &c. ? It certainly nakes the character harmonize better. With respect to the scene with Ophelia, I admit low that I never before thoroughly understood it. The lapping and banging the doors, and the maniac ravings )f the old school, I always protested against ; but I ii,l83S lever could read the scene to my own satisfaction. vo'irffli jittle was wanting here to render the illusion perfect. thlsffi V noble mind obliged to feel that his mother has uhadi ommitted incest, and thinking that if she fails, all >nl nati womankind must — distracted and unsettled, looks at the bject of his love, and, with all the variety of passion beautifully delineated, wishes to save her from the ,te which he thinks awaits her, and to send her from e inevitable corruptions of the world into retirement. ow different was your ' Go to a nunnery, go,' from e bullying tones of older days. t2 SKiLt 276 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES -The address to the players was very pleasing I think in the play scene you somewhat over-acted the Itching of Vmn,, and were a ^e too /«^^^^^ with Ophelia. You were from the begmnmg too confi- dent of the King's guilt. Hamlet, you know, is confi- dent of nothing. Doubt and irresolution are his besetting weaknesses. You began to move towards the King too soon. The whole of the subsequent part of the scene was excellent. "Why did you curtail any part of the first beautiful solilonuv, ' Oh, that this too, too solid flesh would melt, &7? I Wow it is usual, hut I am sure it impa.rs the effeet. I coufess I was a little alarmed when you first anneared-you looked vacant, not sorrowfal-md I TtTd more expression, with a ' a little more than km &c.; but the soliloquy redeemed it. I thmk I hav seen the eloset scene played to greater advantage If I remember right, John Kemble s hand was always on his mother's arm, her eyes fixed on h^-h- own on the Ghost ; and when the Ghost desired him to addres her, he did so mechanically without lookmg at hei, or moving a muscle. , , "With the third act, my criticisms cease, as does the character of HanM. There certainly are some pon* in the last two acts, but they must fall fla with such . La^tes. In the grave scene it was like a kite pounein, upon a sparrow. The poor man looked as if he though yL were actually going to eat him. You have beau praises of your fencing too often to need any more^ ^ ">fter this lengthened disquisition I/l^o^W^^y" the conception of your HanM is splenM. Tha Us a those parts of the character m which th« J"';'''?^ the heart are to be portrayed; your exhibition of the is powerful and true to nature. But the same m also be said of your filial feelings, and especially < '% 1 :ted tli jmk I'l coni .1 coni are ardstti part kutii 111 melt; oairs l-and aan kin 1 1 llM itk OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 277 your feelings for Ophelia ; and that your faults are, that you are not enough of the prince — or somewhat defi- cient in the mixture of condescension and ease which marks the intercourse of a prince of kind and affable disposition with his inferiors. Those who are born to command, acquire a manner which never deserts them, even in their most familiar moments. You are always the gentleman, but not always the prince— Hamlet is both. " I need not say how highly gratified I was with your performance, or how anxious, too, it made me to see your conception of other characters. If you pre OB firij serve your present style of playing to the pit and boxes, you must continue to rise in public favour, in spite of all the minors and melodramas in the world. I have in these remarks avoided all allusion to your ige. If father. It was only occasionally that you reminded me liays o ^ him, and I do not think they were the happiest parts omo ^ your performance — for Hamlet was not a character »adte which particularly suited him. ' Pray make my best remembrances to Mrs. Kean, and excuse this hasty essay, which is written in West- iloestl minster Hall j^ending the argument in Vandenhoff v. Bunn. iih siic1i|L> " I am, my dear Sir, 'potuciml' " Yours faithfully, ;etliougi "John Adams.' lave teal ■ more. 4 sayf ll,atis,|'MY DEAR Mr. Kean, I want to tell you, with my parting good wishes, ,jjjftli ;hat I think your recitation of a continuous passs ssniei speojllj^ From Lord Viscount Morpeth.* . " Nov. Sth, 1838. Written in Dublin, on the conclusion of C. Kean's engagement here, after his London success. 278 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES very beautiful; and I mention thisj because I fancy that you rather slight it yourself, in comparison with the more abrupt and jerking passages, which I cannot value so highly, but which I sometimes think you may learn to indulge from the splendour of hereditary recol- lections. I am more and more confirmed in wishing you to do some lover parts. I see you have all 'the arts of soft persuasion.^ Excuse my intolerable pre- sumption. ]\Iay God bless you with success, and many better things. " Very sincerely yours, " Morpeth." It will be perceived that the notices and critical letters we have inserted, deal with Charles Kean as avowedly a master in his art, and one who by long ser- vice had vindicated his claim to the post he now occupied. They furnish, too, a diversified study of the complicated character, respecting which the best judges of dramatic literature have long been divided in opinion. )RPETE, cntia OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 279 CHAPTER XVI. CONTINUED SUCCESS — BICHARD THE THIRD — SIR GILES OVERREACH — PUBLIC DINNER AND PRESENTATION OP A SILVER VASE, IN THE SALOON OF DRURY LANE THEATRE — ENGAGEMENT AT EDINBURGH — RESUMED PERFORMANCES IN LONDON — OTHELLO — COMMENCEMENT OF A HOS- TILE CLIQUE — CORRESPONDENCE WITH THE COMPANY OF THE ENGLISH OPERA-HOUSE — WITH THE SECRETARY OP THE GENERAL THEATRICAL FUND — WITH THE BATH COMPANY. We have seen that the new performer's first London engagement ran on in one continuous stream of success, exceeding the number of nights originally proposed, and greatly to the reciprocal satisfaction of the public, ilramt t]je manager, and himself. But " siirgit amari aliguid" even in life's most honied intervals. He was beset, from morning till night, by innumerable petitions for relief, from unemployed hangers-on of the stage, decayed actors and artists, and semi-genteel professional mendi- cants; claims from parties he had known and often assisted before ; with demands, sometimes authorita- tively urged, from others whose names and pretensions he had never heard mentioned. Between the 8th of January and the close of March, he received 2,100/., and was asked to lend or bestow at least 6,000/. ! These worthy applicants undoubtedly looked upon him as the public conduit of supply ; and considered that having made a fortune in less than three months, he had nothing to do but to give it away again. Within the period named above, Charles Kean appeared in only three different characters — Hamlet, 280 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Richard the Third, and Sir Giles Overreach.^ The first of these he acted twenty-one nights, twelve of which were without intermission. The following extract from Mr. Bunn's work, " The Stage Before and Behind the Curtain/'t supplies some interesting information, ex- tracted from the account-books of the theatre, Avith respect to the receipts of that engagement, as compared with those of his father's first performances in 1814. " In the first chapter of these volumes will be found a recapitulation of the receipts attracted by Mr. Kean, senior, on his debut before a Loudon audience; and it will be a matter of theatrical curiosity to contrast them with those produced by his son on the present occasion. The difference, when all things are considered, will be found so trifling as to be scarcely worth notice. Be- tween the 8th of January, and the 3d of March, 1838, Mr. Charles Kean played forty-three nights ; twenty- one of them in Hamlet, seventeen in Richard the Third, and five in Sir Giles Overreach. The following is a genuine recapitulation of the receipts, with the nightly average of them as well : — £. s. d. 21 Nights of Hamlet produced .... 6,236 Nightly average 296 19 17 Nights of Richard the Third produced . 5,516 14 Nightly average 324 10 5 Nights of Sir Giles produced .... 1,536 S Nightly average 307 5 43 Nights m all produced 13,289 2 Nightly average 309 10 o * These were also the three characters in which John Kemble madfil his first appearances at Drmy Lane, m 1783, and he acted them in thej same order. t Vol. iii. pp. 26-8. itheDiiJ OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 281 " The nightly average Mr. Charles Kean's father played to in 1814 was 484Z. 9^. ; exhibiting an apparent nightly excess over that his son played to, of 174/. 19s. But it must not be forgotten that the prices of admis- sion in 1814 were 7^. to the boxes, 3^. 6d. to the pit, 2*. to the one gallery, and Is. to the other, and the half-price was in proportion; whereas, in 1838, the prices were 5*. to the boxes, 3^. to the pit, and 2.?. and Is. to the galleries, with a corresponding reduction in the half-price. That the reader may judge of the dif- ference such a deduction makes, a statement shall be submitted to him. The largest receipt Mr. Charles Kean played to was 464/. 3s. Qd. ; on which occasion 770 people paid to the boxes — which number, at 5s. each, makes the sum of 192/. 10s. ; but had the price been 7s. the amount would have been 269/. 10s., a dif- ference of itself of 77/. Then, 768 persons paid to the . pit — which number, at 3s. each, makes a sum of 115/. 4s., whereas, at 3s. 6c?., the amount would be 134/. 8s. 6d. In these two items alone arises a difference of 96/. 4s., which added to 3/. 18s. difference in the half-price to boxes and pit, make a total of 100/. 2s. In addition to this, it must be taken into consideration that the father played only three nights per week, while the son played four nights during the greater part of this engagement ; and that consequently by a more frequent repetition the attraction becomes somewhat lessened. Between the 8th of January and the 3d of March, 1838, the son played forty-three nights, as just stated ; whereas in a corresponding period of 1814, following his debut, the father played, between the 26th of January and the 21st of March, only twenty- two nights. The father in that period played Richard the Third ten times, Shylock ten times, &.i\d Hamlet twice; whereas the son played Richard seventeen times, Hamlet twenty-one times, and Sir Giles 282 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Overreach five times. Thus, in the same period of two months, though each of them only played three charac- ters, yet, barring one night, the son played twice as often as the father. Weighing, therefore, all these points together, it will be found, that in the outburst of their London career, there was but a slight difference in the attraction of either : a coincidence without any parallel in the annals of the stage." It has often been argued that the enormous salaries paid to individual performers in recent times, have had a very damaging effect on the interests of the drama. This may be quite true in the abstract, and sound, as a general principle ; but instances such as that of which we are now treating, furnish unansw^erable exceptions. The matter reduces itself to a commercial speculation, and viewed in that light, no one will deny that the intrinsic w^orth of any commodity is the purchaseable value at which it is quoted in the market. We believe Charles Kean was the first actor of Hamlet, of any note, wdio gave up the old traditionary custom of having a stocking " down-gyved to the ankle," during that part of the play when he assumes a disor- dered intellect — a piece of literal rendering sufficiently vulgar, and certainly " more honoured in the breach than the observance." Garrick, though a professed reformer, indulged freely in these stage trickeries. It is recorded that in the closet scene with the Queen, he had a mechanical contrivance by which his chair fell, as if of itself, when he started upon the sudden entrance of the Ghost. Henderson, his immediate successor in the part, rejected this practice, and his doing so was called, by the critics of the day, a daring innovation. Garrick, with all his brilliant genius, was a very metho- dical actor ; when he had once settled in what is techni- cally called " business " of a part, he never altered it." OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 283 In the play-scene, when he satisfies himself that he has detected the guilt of the King, he wound up his burst of exultation at the close by three flourishes of his pocket- handkerchief over his head, as he paced the stage back- wards and forwards. It was once remarked, as an ex- traordinary deviation, that he added a fourth flourish. The popularity of Charles Kean's Hamlet was by no means on the decline at the twenty-first repetition, but the public were naturally anxious to see the new per- former in another Shakespearean character, of a difi"er- ent cast ; and accordingly, in compliance with incessant applications at the box-ofiice, Richard the Third was brought forward on the 5th of February. The receipts of that evening amounted to 409?. Her Majesty was present throughout the entire performance, and com- manded the manager to express to Mr. Kean her extreme approbation of his performance. The Queen was so pleased that she repeated her visit within a w^eek or two after. The Times spoke thus on the 6th of February : — " Shakespeare's historical play of ' Richard the Third,^ as altered by Colley Gibber, was last night represented before a most crowded audience. Many plays of our great dramatist have, from time to time, been altered by various hands ; but Gibber's alteration of this piece is undoubtedly the best effort of the kind that has yet been made. He has lopped oflF super- fluities, which, however beautiful in the closet, were not calculated to produce a powerful effect on the stage ; and he has condensed within a reasonable compass, more of interest, of striking situation, and of stirring action, than is to be found in almost any other drama. Mr. Charles Kean sustained the character of the crook- backed tyrant. It is not often that the son inherits any great portion of the genius of the father. In this 284 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES instance, however, the mantle of the father has fallen gracefully on the son. When we witnessed his Hamlet, we saw that he had mind ; that he could perform, and finely, that which was quiet, contemplative, melancholy ; but we certainly did feel a doubt whether his physical powers would enable him successfully to enact charac- ters where great bodily as well as great mental exer- tion, was required. His performance of last night has dissipated the doubt. His vigour seemed to grow with the exigency of the scene. The tender, lowly, and in some parts somewhat sarcastic wooing of Lady Anne, was finely contrasted with the bold audacity of the suc- cessful t}Tant in the fourth and fifth acts of the play. These are general remarks : we now wish to devote a few lines to particulars. Richard's opening soliloquy was given with great point and effect ; the latter part more especially, where the mis-shapen monster ex- presses his belief that dogs bark at him as he halts by them. In his delivery of this sentence there was much concentration of bitterness. It told you at once of something like hatred to himself, but certainly of hatred towards the rest of mankind. The courtship scene with Lady Anne was, on the whole, good ; but there was, in the sly sarcasm with which it was sprinkled, too much straining after epigrammatic effect. The audience enjoyed it ; but had Richard, in his wooing, so much exposed his natural aptitude to ' snarl and bite, and play the dog,' he would have never won the widow of his murdered victim. "With the soliloquy in the fourth act, when the murder of the young princes is on foot, we were greatly pleased. Richard, for a moment, is assailed by remorse- ful pangs, but they are quickly expelled by the more powerful feelings of an exorbitant ambition. The mo- mentary penitence and the subsequent hardihood of the OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 285 usurper were forcibly depicted by Mr. Kean. He met with commensurate vigour the busy, bustling scene at the end of the fourth act, where Richard is assailed alternately by good and bad intelligence; when he falters at the idea of Lord Stanley's defection, and re- joices in the overthrow of Buckingham and his rash levied crew. The tent-scene in the last act was ably per- formed. Instead of sliding on his knees when, terrified by the ghosts of his murdered victims, Richard rushes from his couch, Mr. Kean staggered and fell, cowering and conscience-stricken, to the earth. This departure from the old routine was as strikingly effective as it was natural. " Speaking of the entire performance, we should say that Mr. Kean has studied the character thoroughly ; that he understands it, and plays it in a manner worthy of his name. We again, however, object to the length of many of his pauses. They give you, at times, an idea that he has forgotten his part, and is pondering to refresh his memory. We equally object to the manner in which he occasionally weighs out and measures his syllables, when they ought to come trippingly from the tongue. These, nevertheless, are matters of little mo- ment, and with a wish may be corrected. Mr. Kean's reception was of the most flattering kind. At the end of the play, he was loudly called for. He appeared, after considerable delay, occasioned, we believe, by 1 exhaustion, and having made his obeisance to the ! audience, retired." The friends and admirers of Charles Kean, having determined to mark their opinion of his professional ability by a specific compliment, a public dinner was given to him, on the 30th of March, in the saloon of Drury Lane Theatre, on which occasion he was also presented with a magnificent silver vase, value 200/. 286 TKE LIFE Ayr THEATKIC.VL TDtES The waikmaiiship of this gratifving testimonial was exquiatdy designed and finished : the lid being snr- monnted by a model in minatnre of Bonbilliac's cele- brated statne of Shakespeare, left by Garrick to the British Museum (at the death of his wife), a cast firom which stands in the entrance rotunda of Dmry Lane Theatre. On flie firont, the following inscription was engraved : — TO CHARLES KEAy, Vsq. BT THB JtltniHllHS OF HIS DISnXGinSHED TAT.K'\ f AT A ITBUC DCTSXB GITES TO HDC ES THE SiOjOOS iT THE TTTBATRB B0TAI, OSrBT XA^il, MARCH SDth, 19SS; THE BIGHT EOS. UOSD TISOOT7ST BfOBFETH. ItP. At this dinner. Lord Morpeth, now Earl of Carlisle, had, in the kindest and readiest manner, undertaken to pre- side ; but two days before the appointed erening, political duties interfered- and compelled him to write thus to Mr, Bonn, who superintended the arrangements : — " Wednesday ETeDing, " March 2S, ISSSc 'SrB, — '• It is with extreme regret and disappointment that I find myself compelled to announce to you, that, in consequence of a new arrangement of the business of the House of Commons, and the certainty of the debate upon SegTO Emancipation, from which I cannot absent myself, extending over Friday, it will be wholly impos- sible for me to attend the dinner to be given on that day to Mr. Charles Kean. OF CHAELES KEAX, F.5.A. 287 *'I ought, perliaps, to Lave guarded myself more strictly against such a contingencT, Trhen I agreed to discharge the honourable office of chairman on this auspicious occasion. I was misled bj the anticipation of other business in the House, and by my anxiety to bear a part in the tribute which I thought so well deserred. " I am conscious, however, that almost all there is of privation in this matter belongs to myself I beg to inclose my contribution to the vase, which it is intended t : ]: resent to Mr. Kean, as a humble mark of my admira- tion for his talents, and of my regret that I am debarred from this occasion of giving it oral expression. " I have the honour to be, Sir, '• Your most obedient servant, •' MOEPETH. ••' To A- Buim. Esq." This tmexpected disappointment threatened to derange the whole plan, but the difficulty was sur- mounted by an application to the Marquis of Clanri- carde. who was to have officiated as vice-president, but now promptly consented to supply the place of his noble colleague. The dinner took place as appointed, and all went off in the most satisfactory manner. Above one hundred and fifty persons were present, including many names eminent bv their rank, talent, and literary reputa- tion. The speeches, as may be supposed, were eloquent and characteristic. That of Charles Kean. in particular, was remarkable foi* the modest and unassuming tone in which he spoke of himself and his pretensions. The chairman, in his address to the guest of the evening, after expressing his regret at the tmavoidable absence of their mutual friend Lord Morpeth, who. he said, would have performed the duty which had 288 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES in consequence unexpectedly devolved upon him with much superior grace and ability, went on to say : — " But I know your kindness will overlook any deficiency, and that you will not measure the depth of my feeling, and that of the gentlemen I represent, by the inadequate language I can command, or by the value of the offering which is before you. At the same time, I trust you will receive this cup with satisfaction ; for sure I am, there is no tribute which could be offered to you, either from your friends or the public, that you may not attribute to your own merits and your own abilities. Perhaps one source of the high position to which you have attained, is the fact of your having entered upon your professional career with no circumstance or advantage that I can recollect or call to mind. The name you bore, the similarity in form, in featm-e, and in voice, which nature had impressed you with, and which proved to every beholder that the genius of the father was transmitted to the son, counteracted the indulgence usually manifested to a youthful beginner ; but you have overcome all obstacles. You knew the toil, the study, and the perse- verance that it would require to attain to eminence in your profession. By study I mean that diligent examination of the variety of delicate and almost imper- ceptible shades and tints of cliaracter, which our mighty bard has infused into all his heroes, so as not only to create corresponding ideas in your own mind, but to be able to convey those ideas to an audience, and make them feel and recognise the character which. Shakespeare drew. In this you have succeeded, and, in doing so, you have raised the character of the stage, while you have earned the admiration of your friends and the public. It is a circumstance not only singular,, but I believe unprecedented, that a performer should have appeared forty-three nights in one season, and OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 289 played only three parts, and those old stock parts, so well known to the public that they could receive no new "'^yJ impression from them, and no gratification, except in the ^)i way in which they were performed." Ft«l The noble chairman then referred to the estimation in •% which actors had been held in ancient Greece and Rome, and to the low condition of the stage in this country until its character was vindicated by Garrick, and sus- tained by the Kemble family ; names with which that of Kean was well calculated to stand associated. Haying then enumerated amongst Mr. C. Kean's principal claims upon the respect and admiration of his supporters, his unblemished integrity, high honour, and refined taste in private life, he concluded by expressing a hope that the object of his eulogy would long continue the ornament of the stage, the delight of his friends, and, above all, the pride of that surviving parent who lived littedto to bless him as the joy, the stay, and the comfort of nifesteJ her declining years.* This complimentary address and the accompanying gift were thus acknowledged : — me all iiiiiience iiligenl .limper- "My Lords and Gentlemen, — " The situation in which your kindness has at irmiglity this moment placed me, I feel to be the most arduous jtonlyto and difficult I have ever yet encountered. It would be mbecoming affectation were I to pretend that I was not some measure aware of the high and unmerited com- liment you intended to confer on me. I had thought d hoped, that when the proper time arrived I sliould Ye been able to express myself in terms suited to the ccasion. The opinions and wishes of the distinguished ;ompany by which I am surrounded, have been con- eyed to me by the noble chairman in a manner so See " The Stage, Before and Behind the Curtain," vol. iii. pp. 33-4. TOL. I. U 290 THE LIFE ASD THEATKTCAL TIMES nnexvectedly kind, so flattering »d ^oo^Mn^S, that even a practised, orator might falter m his leply , tt leltl should appear cold and nngrateW, while my Wis throhhing^ith ---T -o'io-> — tf v™ to receive the language of the heart, in p ace ot Zs t rJes of studitd eloquence; and to believe in h slerity of those feelings which, by their own inten- , sitv have deprived me of adequate eKpression. "The dis inguished honour I am now receivmg at vour hands is one which artists of the highest name Ind pre ns ions have hailed with delight, when in the declin of life, and at the close of a long and bnliant cl ee a the reward of their honourable exertions w rVwn must I appreciate your kindness, young m ?a;',tXTaLVt on tlJvei, ^^^^^ professional life, my pretensions ™t"f ^^'^ P™ test of time, the station I am ultimately to fill unascei ated upheld, as I now am, by the partial judgnren of enthusfastic friends, and above all, by a name wh. has been my most powerful introduction to the not.c. ^'^n^r/Inlttt wish to blind myself to m: V l..t T feel that an affectionate remem tlcHrr -fatt bS: your eyes, invested the so ^tributes to which he has - persona claim ^n has placed him in a situation, brilliant indeed and da. 'ung'butfuU of difficulty and danger. I f ™"-;^ consdousness of my own inability to realize the xpe tations of those friends who have so kindly and me tiously committed themselves m my favour; yet to alst'hour of my existence, the -membrance of t u the proudest day which that existence has yet witnesse *^Vserve as a' stimulus to -— >S;— ^.^ make me feel as if I had given a pledge which it is incumbent duty to redeem. OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 291 HM a ]\/[y lords and gentlemen, the place where we are now assembled is associated in my mind with feelings of hereditary interest. Within these walls the name of Keau first became known to the London public, and the success of my father created an epoch in the history of the British drama, which will not soon be forgotten, mm _^fj;gj. q;^ interval of twenty-four years, on the same boards, and by the same public, my humble efforts have been received with a degree of favour and indulgence far indeed beyond my merits and expectations, and which has engraved on my heart one paramount impres- sion of lasting gratitude. My lords and gentlemen, I will occupy your attention no longer. What I have said *pl is totally unworthy of the occasion, and conveys but ^^ "l' 1 faintly what I feel. The conduct of my future life can PP alone convince you how I estimate the honour I have received.' iidgma mie TO ninti xertw ■d to stedtlie A few days after the dinner, Charles Kean took his departure for the northern capital, where he was received with the old enthusiasm, and a succession of the same crowded houses. He retm-ned to London on the 9th of May, when his performances at Drury Lane were resumed, but witli something of diminished attraction. The season was advancing, and the interruption (as all persons experienced in theatrical matters antici- pated) , had given a check to the flowing tide. In Mr. Bunn's published diary, we find the subjoined note : — &aii« I " Charles Kean has been absent but five weeks; yet in that time he has allowed those who have seen him to brget him in the folly and fashion of a London season, veiwiwlbfter Easter ; — and those who have wo^, want to know ,,yrtioi|M he is a fine actor, and keep back until they're told. jluck it ^i (There comes a new world into Babylon when this period of the year arrives. At the same time nothing u3 292 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES can be more injudicious than to break the tbreacl, and, too often, the chain of anything, particularly if con- nected with public life. I doubt me if he will rouse up the Cockneys to any great extent until next Christ- •nas hath waned, and then much will depend upon whose hands he gets into. He will, however, at all times do more than any of the dogs who venture to snarl at him." On the 16th of May, Charles Kean essayed the diffi- cult character of Othello, a touchstone, if possible, more ti-ying than any he had yet handled. The performance was most satisfactorily welcomed by a crowded house. The notice in the Morning Post ran thus : — "Drurt Lane Theatre. — Mr. Charles Kean appeared here last evening for the first time, as Othello. Under j any circumstances, the character is an arduous one, butj was rendered more so on the present occasion, from its : having been considered the chef-d' ceuv re of his lamenti 1 father. Mr. C. Kean, however, sustained the burthi most manfully, and achieved so complete a victory over all obstacles (amongst which reminiscences of by-gone days were not the least embarrassing), as to warrant us in pronouncing Othello as entitled to a foremost rank in his range of parts. On his first appearance he evinced by his manner a consciousness of the difficulties he wa£ about to encounter, which created some apprehensioc ' that physically he might be unequal to the task ; but aj the play progressed, and le\«el speaking gave place tc bm-sts of feeling, the genius of the actor shone forth ii its brightest colours, and elicited from a crowded audi ence such manifestations of applause, as might fairlj lead to an anticipation of the revival of the rnos ■ flom-ishing days of the drama. "When everything ^va 30 deserving of praise, to particularise may seem invi ii OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 293 dious ; but we should imperfectly fulfil our duty were we not to select a few passages in the delivery of which Mr. Kean achieved his greatest triumphs. In the first scene of the third act, after lago has first awakened his jealousy, the soliloquy expressive of his resolve as to what course to pursue in the event of Desdemona prov- ing false to him, was given with an alternate power and pathos to find a parallel to which we must revert to the days of his father. The passage commencing — ' If I do prove her haggard, Though that her jesses were my dear heart-strings, I'd whistle her off, and let doTVTi the wiiid, !ior|| To prey at fortune,' was delivered with an efi'ect really appalling ; and the transition from the frenzied manner which accompanied the utterance of the above lines, to the thrilling tone of deep despondency with which he uttered — '7 irraBt! ' Haply, for I am black,' &c., biirtk i^6W tears in abundance from the eyes of the larger portion of his fair auditory. The concluding scene de- mands a word, were it only for the death, which was true to nature, inasmuch as in such a predicament, a ,j.jj^i man does not usually study attitudes ; and, albeit, the j^a Jailing of Mr. Kean may have been premeditated, it was jjj, bardly planned with a due regard to life and limb. For ^,jij5,j the safety of the last we certainly felt no small degree 3f apprehension. The play was announced for repetition m Friday, amidst vehement applause." On the 4th of June following, the engagement termi- y jji lated, when Charles Kean appeared for his own benefit, u jji IS Sir Edioard Mortimer. This second series of perform- mces was less productive than the first; for which some easons have already been assigned. A change, too, had uddenly " come o'er the spirit " of the press ; more than 294 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES one of the most influential journals assumed an altered tone, and condemned the identical '-points" which they had a short time before so warmly praised. It was impos- sible that a few weeks of absence could have produced any variation in the actor's style, or the measure of his pre- tensions. A hostile clique was forming ; but how, where- fore, or by whom suggested, fostered, and matured, it would be fruitless now to inquire. These hidden enemies, whoever they might be, had the merit of keeping counsel with the secrecy of a freemason's lodge, and evinced a pertinacity of purpose which perpetual defeat during a long series of years seems only to have had the effect of sharpening into augmented virulence. The subjoined letter received at a period somewhat later than that of Avhich we are now treating, bears upon the progress of the conspiracy, or coalition, or combination, or whatever it may be called, and was WTitten by Mr.]\Iichael Nugent, for many years the theatrical reporter of the Times, and a critic of acknowledged repute. " New Street, Covent Garden, " My dear Sir,— " J^^ie 9, i839. " I regret sincerely that severe illness, which has confined me to my bed for nearly the whole of the by- gone week, prevented me from seeing you, when yon were good enough to honour me with a call. " It gave me a true and honest satisfaction to perceive by the statements in the country jomiials, that youi career through the long range of the provinces was i continued triumph. That it should be so everywhere requires, in my mind (and I have expressed the senti ment and defended it too, in public and in private, befop those to whom it was little palatable) , nothing move thai a fair, candid, and impartial spirit. " That diu-ing your last London engagement such i OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 295 spirit was not entertained towards you, by certain par- tisans, I can testify. But you may, and ought to laugh at their miserable malice. What have you to fear from the petty malevolence of judges (?) who lauded to the skies and worshipped as stars such ignes fatui as ? Eejoice in their censure. " Were I engaged in the theatrical arena just now, your talents, for talents' sake, should receive my warm- est support. As it is, I am obliged, at this critical period of political strife, to attend to the sayings and doings of the great actors at St. Stephen's. I can only, therefore, offer you my sincere good wishes, whether you pursue fame and fortune in this country, or in the great Western Republic. " Suffer me to subscribe myself " Your admirer and friend, " Michael Nugent. " To C. Kean, Esq." If professional jealousy, in any shape, or through any influence, had anything to do with this growing hostility, it never was exercised upon less justifiable grounds. Charles Kean had ever proved himself a kind and generous friend to his less prosperous brethren. Many instances have fallen within the knowledge of the writer, from which two or three are selected, to establish by evidence what might otherwise be treated as mere assertion. A Letter from Mr. Peake on behalf of the English Opera House Company. " English Opera House, " Sept. 22d, 1838. " Dear Sir, — " We, the undersigned, crave your attention for a few moments, in the hope that you may be induced to 296 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES favour us with an act of kindness wliicli would certainly relieve us from a position of great embarrassment. We ask this boon, knowing your attachment to your pro- fession, and your liberality to the less fortunate brethren thereof. " The undersigned, apprehending that the English Opera House could not, for want of a speculator, open for the summer season, and seeing that a large number of their brothers and sisters must literally starve, by being out of employ, subscribed a little fund and com- menced a season. We have produced no less than ten new dramas, successful as to their representation ; but such has been the state of public apathy as regards the theatres, that every effort of ours has proved a failure. We hav^e paid all the humble classes employed, but at the expense of our own salaries ; and we have also a heavy arrear of rent to meet, with exhausted means. " In great anxiety of mind we ask of your kindness to come and act one imjlit for us. The cause to be assigned openly to the public, and yom* liberality to be as openly recorded. " Pray, dear Sir, take our wishes and hopes into your favourable consideration, and confer a lasting obligation on " Your obedient servants, &c. " To Charles Kean, Esq." Here follow the signatures, sixteen in number. Me. Kean's answer to Mr. Peake, from Leeds. " Scarborough Hotel, Leeds, " Sept. 24th, 1838. " My dear Sir, " I received last night the letter signed by the members of the English Opera House, and was deeply pained to hear that the Company are in such embar- ( OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 297 rassed circumstances. I am equally grieved tliat it is totally out of my power to comply with their request of performing a night for their benefit, and refer you to the list of my engagements left with Mr. Hughes, lest occasion should render my direction necessary, to show that I have not a single day at my command from the present time until Christmas. Presuming, however, that a benefit will be announced for the purpose of removing the present difiiculties, I trust that in place of my professional services, you will accept the enclosed cheque for 1001. to be placed at the disposal of the Com- pany. With every wish for their better success, " I remain, my dear Sir, " Very truly yours, "Chaeles Kean." Mr. Peake to Charles Kean, in rejply : — " English Opera House, London, " Feb. 27th, 1838. "My dear Sir, — " I beg to acknowledge the receipt of your kind letter, and a bank note for lOOZ. "Accept the grateful thanks of all who addressed you for this mark of liberality, which will prove a g-reat relief under the circumstances. I have not adequate words to express my astonishment at this act of princely generosity. The warm feelings of your heart will in some measure repay you ; but may constant and deserved prosperity attend you. We, one and all, fervently say, God bless you ! *' I am, my dear Sir, " Your faithful and obliged servant, " R. B. Peake. " To Charles Kean, Esq., ' Scarborough Hotel, Leeds." . 298 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES It has seldom fallen to the lot of a biographer to transcribe a more satisfactory correspondence than the foregoing. From Me. E. AV. Elton.* " Dear Sir, — " I have great pleasure in acknowledging the receipt of your very liberal donation (of 50/.) to the General Theatrical Fund, and of forwarding the grateful thanks of the directors for so generous an assistance of the object they have in view. At the same time allow me to inform you that if no personal application has been made to you on the subject, the omission has not been through any slight, or forgetfulness of the rank you hold in the pro- fession, but simply because no such application has been made to any one. Our donors have all been, like your- self, volunteers in the cause, and I need not say how happy I am at seeing yom- name added to the corps. I inclose you a formal receipt for your donation, and have great pleasure in subscribing myself, " Dear Sir, yours very truly, '* Edward William Elton. " To Charles Kean, Esq." * A tragic actor, of good, second-rate reputation, who was unfortu- nately lost in the Pegasus on the 19th of July, 1843, wliich Ul-fatedj vessel stmck on the Gold Bock, during a voyage from Leith to London. Of fifty-five persons on hoard, all hut six perished. Poor Elton had] repeatedly expressed the greatest possible horror and commiseration ofj the similarly sudden fate of Tyrone Power, in March, 1841. A sum of J 2,1001. was reahsed for liis family by subscriptions and benefit perform- ances. Whatever may be the professional jealousies of actors, howj often are we called upon to note that when a fraternal appeal is k to them, they are ever ready to respond with generous warmth. OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 299 From the Committee of the Bath Company * To Chaeles Kean, Esq. " Theatre Royal, Bath, " 1st June, 1842. " SlE,— " We, the Committee of Management of the Bath Company, beg to acknowledge the receipt of yom- kind letter, with its very handsome and liberal donation (20/.) . In applying to you for your valuable name and assist- ance, we did so in the conviction that both would be of the highest importance to our interests ; and however we must regret your inability personally to aid us, accept our very sincere and grateful thanks. " We remain, sir, " Yours most gratefully, " J. WOULDS, " Chairman of the Committee, ^- ^f ^'ly m a Ite of considerable emotion, adtessed the house m the following words : — ■Ladies .«d CxE.TLEMEX.-The simple but sincere exTO-ession of my thanks is all the poor return I can make vT your continual kindness. The pride and happi- ness I feel at this moment are darkened by the thought ; I am on the eve of departure. I quit you tor country endeared to me by many recol lectio, s- coun^7 where in my early professional strugg es I oun a home to receive and friends to cheer me. If smce tha p riod my position be changed, how can I aeknowledg. ?1 e debt gi-atitude I owe the British public? En ouratd by this success, I venture to announce that o, n y eS-ly rem™ from the United States I am engage :7ain a[this theatre, till when, ladies and gentlemen I most respectfully and gratefully bid you farewell. Mr. Kean'3 announcement of his return to the Hay OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 307 market was received with an unanimous burst of approbation ; and he left the stage cheered by the reiterated pLaudits of the audience. During the following September he appeared at the National Theatre in Church Street, New York, then under the management of Mr. J. Wallack. The house was crowded and enthusiastic, but after this auspicious commencement clouds gathered rapidly, and a series of fatalities seemed to attend Charles Kean's second visit to the United States. When he began to act he was suffering from an affection of the throat ; exertion made his voice give way, and on the fourth night he entirely broke down. The theatre was soon after destroyed by fire. Such burnings are often suspicious, and on this occasion rumours of foul play were loudly disseminated. Wallack himself made no secret of his impression that a rival manager had some share in his misfortune. That rival was seen conspicuously posted on the roof of the Astor House Hotel, watching the progress of the destroying element, and no one heard him utter expres- sions of sympathy or regret. We naturally think of N"ero, who played the lyre on the terrace of his own oalace, as an accompaniment to the conflagration of his )wn imperial city, fired by his own hand or by the lands of his emissaries. At Boston, in December, 1839, ^Iharles Kean narrowly escaped a frightful catastrophe. VVhile SLCtmgEoUa,m " Pizarro," and standing between he wings, preparatory to his entrance for the dying cene, the child was brought to him ; he stepped a pace orward to receive it ; the leader of the supernumeraries, lamed Stimpson, who was also waiting to go on as one f the Peruvian soldiers, moved into the spot he had left acant : at that moment a heavy counter- weight fell from lie machinery above, broke through a slight scaffolding, nd crushed the unfortunate underling, who was killed x2 308 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES on the spot, his blood profusely sprinkling the dress of RoUa as he rushed on from the wing to finish the tragedy. This shocking disaster was immediately communicated to the crowded audience, who at once departed fi'om the theatre. A gloom was thus unavoid- ably thrown over the remainder of the engagement. ' A renewed attack of bronchitis soon after this compelled Charles Kean to suspend acting until rest should re- move the complaint. Loss of time to a man who lives by his profession is loss of money. Hoping to benefit by change of air and variety of climate in a milder temperature, he visited the Havannah. From thence, the subjoined letter, written to the author of these pages, detailed his proceedings up to that date : — " Matauzas, Island of Cuba, " March 20th, 1840. " My dear C , " I have been long intending to write to you a fuU account of my transatlantic visit, but have procrasti- nated so long from one cause and another, especially as I wished to be able to give you a better account of myself, that I dare say you will be surprised to hear from me at all, after so long a silence, and particularly from the West Indies ; unless the newspapers have in- formed you that ill health obliged me to seek the benefit of this climate, which already has so much improved me. that people smile to hear that I came to Havannah od the sick list. Away from the cares and troubles of mj- American campaign, where I have been subjected to £ succession of annoyances, accidents, and unsatisfactory transactions with managers and others, here I am occupied in visiting an island so novel and interesting to an English eye, and have for the first time since ]|J'f! left home enjoyed those sensations which accompany aiia!^> unshackled mind and healthful body. .■apelei :ii rt wo live J W a mililt 1 km OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 309 " After I had secured a passage with other Englisli travellers, and agreeable companions, from Charleston, in a very small American hrigantine, a steamboat arrived with the ex-governor of Cuba, and having landed his Excellency, was as glad to receive us back as passengers, J as we were to forego our previous quarters, and avail ourselves of a chance that gave us so good an oppor- tunity of visiting the Havannah. On one of the most lovely mornings since the creation, we passed under the frowning battlements of the Moro castle, and the light- house at the entrance to the harbour, and soon set foot in the capital of the Western Indies. I cannot describe the delicious temperament of the morn and evening; although it is considered rather dangerous to walk much abroad under the scorching influence of the meridian sun. Imagine me in the costume of a planter, white jacket and trousers, and straw hat about four feet in the cir- sTjaafj 3umference of the brim. In the evenings, however, you .ust change to something more European, to attend a .ciallyi sapital opera. On the other night this large and hand- ounti some building was crowded to the roof on the occasion 1 to lie )f De Begnis's benefit. A most singular, and, as I think, irticnlaii legrading custom, although a very lucrative one, exists jliaTei lere, of the performer, whose night it is, sitting at the tlielieK loor, dressed for the character he is to represent, with roveii wo silver dishes before him to receive the doubloons ^jnali ad dollars the visitors may think proper to bestow. ^l{3of! Jometimes, I am told, as much as 500/. is collected in ,j^teiti bis manner by a popular actor or actress. De Begnis ifacti )ld me he cleared four hundred, on this occasion, and ^jj 1 1 pom the appearance of the house, he could not have iDteRsJ ^j jig " Unfortunately I am deprived of the pleasure of the oDipaiiJ uU-fights, and a Spanish play, as both these amuse- lents are prohibited during the Lent season; but 310 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES masquerade ball gave me an opportunity of seeing one of the finest theatres, perhaps, in the world. Eight thousand persons were assembled within its walls, while the streets presented the appearance of a carnival. In consequence of the slave trade, which is carried on here to a frightful extent, in spite of all British exertion to the contrary (being privately encouraged, or, I should rather say, permitted, by the Spanish government), several of our ships of war are either in port or cruising about in the neighbourhood ; and one of the captains in his uniform was accosted by a masked lady, who so fascinated the gallant commander, that after much solici- tation and the assurance of a good supper, she exhibited her features to the astonished officer, who gazed with wonder on the face of one of his own midshipmen. " The city is finely situated, with one of the best har- bours in the old or new world. It is strongly fortified intrenched and walled. The antique and venerabh looking churches, convents, prisons, forts, &c., give ai appearance of age. The streets are very narrow, with out side-walks, and crowded with carriages and carts besides multitudes on foot, of every colour and variet of the human species, from the potent Spanish Nabol to the miserable mulatto and slave. The buildings ar generally from tv\'o to three stories high, without an window glass, and built of stone. The population : about 180,000, nearly lialf of which, however, live witl out the walls. There are several fine public square ornamented with and supplied by fountains of wate In one of these squares, opposite the Governor's palac one of the finest military bands I ever heard plays 1 moonlight ; and such sounds in such a climate render tl scene perfectly enchanting. " Formerly, the government of this important islan containing above a million of inhabitants, with a stan ■II? OB H Ion 111 m t I skill nment ^ciijiii captai cwho let ?oli' eshibit lied wit Den, kstla ■ fortife vaerali rW|i udi iidvi sliNal ftgs itkiit pnlation ,live k sqm ;ot'K li plaji ink riant OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 311 ing army of 22,000 capital troops, was intrusted to men totally unworthy of such an important charge, and in consequence, it became little better than a nest of pirates, swindlers, and common thieves ; but under the vigorous administration of Tacon, who was sent out by the Spanish authorities at home, about twelve years since, as Captain General, Havannah, and indeed the entire colony has become a very different place ; — and although Tacon has ceased to be governor, the com- munity are still enjoying the blessings of his laws and regulations. " I travelled by railroad about fifty miles into the interior, and there our party engaged riding horses, and a volante, as their carriages are called, to carry us to Matanzas. I wish I had time and space to give you a full description of our two days' jom-ney through cocoa- nut, palm, and orange trees, sugar and coffee plantations ; armed, according to the custom here, with pistols and swords nearly as long as ourselves. I have suffered greatly from the musquitoes, who appear to have formed a far stronger affection for me, than for any of my com- panions. « " On Sunday I return to Havannah, and shall sail for New York early in April, and steam to England by the Great Western on the 9th of May. Perhaps I may have the pleasure of seeing you in London during my Haymarket engagement, but at any rate you may expect me at the time I usually visit Dublin, from about the end of November to the middle of December. Nothing has reached me from England since the 1st of January, and you may imagine how anxiously I am anticipating my return to the States, where I expect to find a post- office full of letters, waiting my arrival. You cannot think how much I shall miss Colonel D'Aguilar, who, I presume, has by this time received his brevet rank, and 312 THE LIFE AND THEATKICAL TIMES has in consequence, removed from Ireland. Commercial business in the States has been in a deplorable condi- tion, and of course theatricals have not flourished. Mrs. Fitzwilliam has been perhaps the most attractive star, take her for all in all. I have acted so seldom, in con- sequence of ill-health, and partly from the manner in which I have been treated in money matters, that I may say in truth ' I have lost a year,' " Pray remember me most kindly to Mrs. C , and give my love to the children, and do not forget to men- tion me to C , to whom I send every kind wish. Let me hope that I have not exhausted your patience, as completely as I have filled this paper, having hardly space left to assure you how delighted I shall be to see you again, or to subscribe myself, your sincere friend, "Charles Kean. " Not having my writing-desk with me, and finding it impossible to get sealing-wax, pray excuse the wafer." On the 1st of June, 1840, Charles Kean commenced his second engagement at the Haymarket, which con- tinued for thirty nights. Havilet, as usual, was his open- ing part, followed by Richard, Shjloch, and Sir Giles Overreach On Monday the 6th of July, he added Macbeth, for the first time, to his list of London charac- ters. In this, the most metaphysically complicated, perhaps, amongst all the mighty conceptions of Shake- speare, his performance equalled the sanguine expectations ' of his friends, and it has ever since been considered one of his ablest delineations. In the last act, in particular, he was singularly majestic: his death scene was entirely' original. Macbeth had never been ranked amongst his father's greatest eff'orts. It had magnificent passages, but they were insulated. As a whole, there was some- thing wanting of sustained power, with indications of i OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S-A. 313 incomplete stuclj. On the present revival at the Ilay- market, the play was very carefully produced ; it ran fifteen nights, and materially served both the theatre and the actor of the leading character. On the first night, the applause was enthusiastic and unanimous ; on the second, a few expressions of disapprobation were heard, which were ever after continued by the excep- tions minority who thought proper to indulge in them. That this was a systematic opposition became so evident, that the most strenuous efforts were used to detect the parties who so obviously placed themselves in direct oppo- sition to the general voice of the public. But these efforts led to no result, beyond the actual conviction that a planned conspiracy was in existence, the authors and agents of which conducted their proceedings with an impenetrable mystery, not even surpassed by the Vehne gericht of the middle-ages, or the more recent Tugend-hund of modern Germany. They enjoyed their malice and escaped exposure, but this was all the ad- vantage they gained ; while on the other hand, the duration of Mr. Charles Kean's engagement, which ran to thirty nights, was more than doubled by the corre- sponding attraction. After the first representation oi Macbeth, which Charles Kean selected for his benefit on the 3d of July, we find this notice in the Morning Post : — '"Bravo! bravo! Kean! Kean!' the congratulatory cheers which greeted the henejiciare last night, are still ringing in our ears. We never remember to have wit- nessed a more signal triumph. The stage at the fall of the curtain presented the appearance of a vendange of bouquets. The horticultural fete which is to take place this afternoon will not be able to compete with the Haymarket show of flowers ; and well did Mr. Kean 314 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES deserve the tributes which were so plentifully bestowed upon him by his fair admirers. As for obtaining a place in the theatre, that has been out of the question ever since the announcement of Mr. Kean's first appear- ance in Macbeth. The private boxes were crowded to excess, the dress circle was densely thronged, and the upper regions appeared to groan under the weight of the countless masses who came to see whether the son would inherit the transcendent talents of the father in his con- ception of this great character, which has time out of mind been universally acknowledged to be the most magnificent production of Shakespeare's fertile genius. " On his first coming forward, Mr. Kean was enthu- siastically received, and appeared somewhat embarrassed and thrown off his balance at making his first appear- ance before the English public in this difiicult part. In a moment, however, he cast aside all hesitation, and plunged headlong and gallantly into the yawning gulf and fearful whirlpool of conflicting emotions and passions, which soured the milk of human kindness in the breast of Macbeth. " Mr. Kean's success last evening was one of the most brilliant which has ever been recorded in the annals of the drama. Throughout the whole play he continued to achieve a succession of triumphs, far too numerous for us to record ; and at the last, instead of being exhausted by the stupendous exertions he had undergone, he appeared to have gained fresh vigour and inspiration with every successive efibrt, and fought his last fight, and died, like a stern soldier, with his harness on his back — ^just as Edmund Kean did before him; and it would be impossible to accord higher praise. But of Mr. Kean, as the actor of last night, we saw or thought nothing. It was Macbeth, Macheth, Macheth. Ever and anon he appeared before us. First, attired in OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 315 the plaid of the wild highlander, with the weird sisters on the heath ; next, led on by the diabolical instigation of his wife to stain his hands with the blood of his con- fiding sovereign ; and then — we yet shudder and quail at the hideous workings of remorse which tore his heart- strings asunder in the spectre- dagger scene — he threw his words upon us like thunderbolts, and not a soul within the confines of the theatre but felt a weight off his mind when he discovers that he is the dupe of his own disordered brain. It were vain to attempt giving any description of the effect produced by Mr. Kean's utterance of the few simple words — ' There's no such thing.' This and the closing scene are the two grand coujys de main by which he carried away such a splendid harvest of admiration and congratulation. The various costumes worn by Mr. Kean last evening, were some of the most superb ever seen upon the stage. When he appeared in the robes of usurped majesty, his sumptuous attire was well worthy of a monarch.* It consisted of a rich crimson velvet tunic, or gaberdine, on which hung a mantle of dark green velvet, lined with ermine. His other dresses, though necessarily not gorgeous, were remarkable for elegance and simplicity. " Mr. Kean derived great assistance from, and was very ably seconded by, Mrs. Warner, who sustained the character of Lady Macbeth with great intenseness and energy. At the fall of the curtain, J\Ir. Kean was loudly called for, and at length came forward, and received a tremendous fire of applause. He had ' to bide the pelt- ing of a pitiless storm ' of bouquets. An announcement was then given forth that the manager had entered into a fresh engagement with the attractive star for * Such commendation would not now, nineteen years later, ))e bestowed upon a veiy inappropriate costume, which, however rich and graceful, was quite out of character. 316 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES ten more niglits. This led to a second elbullition of Bravo! " The variety of opinions delivered by the press on Charles Kean's acting, during his round of performances at the Haymarket, and the biassed disposition by which some were so transparently dictated, called forth the following article in an Edinbui'gh paper of Monday the 6th of July, entitled, — " CHAELES KEAN AND HIS LONDON CRITICS. " The age of true criticism, like the age of chivalry, is gone. The legitimate drama is neglected by parties interested in the success of the illegitimate ; and trage- dians, comedians, and vocalists are now written down or up, in London, not according to their demerits or deserts, but in proportion as they are identified with parties sensi- tively alive to extraneous considerations. The criticism of the London press, as a whole, and in the light of a guide to judgment, is unworthy of perusal, otherwise than as a matter of composition ; and the reason is, that it has become sectarian, and is influenced in what it puts forth or suppresses, by party spirit. In this state of things, the rising generation, whose opinions are un- formed in respect of great plays and talented performers, is not fairly dealt with, while the public is cavalierly treated. It now forms its own estimate of performances and "stars," and leaves interested flatterers to their adulation, and detractors to their spleen, unheeded ; except to be smiled at with the remark, ' Oh, yes ; we understand ! ' " We have ever been of opinion, that the best star-actor in any age, is he who, in his day, draws the best houses. It is to no purpose that we can be talked at to the con- trary. Taste and fashion are incapable of mathematical demonstration, and are seldom, if ever, reformed by OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 317 the laboured analysis of special pleaders. What Mr. Macreadj is, he yet is, in spite of the London press being for or against him ; and whether Charles Kean be an intellectual performer or not, is a question which it is too late in the day to agitate. Its purpose is seen by the public, who have made up their minds, and who persevere in going in crowds to see him in well-known parts. " The Polytechnic of this mouth has an article, ably written, as writing, cutting up Mr. Charles Kean's Hamlet, and exposing, at the same time, the animus of a party writer at war, less with the popular tragedian, than with the public, who, by their crowded audiences on his nights of playing, show the uselessness of such isolated scolding and raving at merits which they gladly pay to see the exhibition of, and cheer and applaud into the bargain ! How, in the name of fortune, could, or would, a prudent, thorough man of business like Mr. Webster give Mr. C. Kean a large weekly revenue, unless the public, who go along with him in his engage- ments, enable him to do so, and by the most convincing of all proofs of public appreciation — liberal payment, and praise besides? Some critics write and abuse managements, as if a management drove people into their theatres, and fleeced them of money at the point of the bayonet ! " We question much if all the writing at Mr. Kean, in some of the papers in an opposing interest, has kept a shilling out of the Haymarket treasury. On the con- trary, it may have put it into people's heads to go and see the phenomenon of a ' bad actor,' being supported by crowds of all grades of a metropolitan population, and at the west end of London, too ! Well, they go ; and, instead of agreeing with the critic, they join in feeling double interest in the actor, who they think must 318 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES be somebody to be so abused, and to be able to with- stand the shock on the support of full pockets and applauding houses. " In his manners off the stage, Charles Kean is a gentleman; and precisely what is his recommendation to good society, is the secret cause of that perfect hatred which the vulgar and low-minded cannot conceal that they are eaten up with towards him. Those who win may well laugh on the resource of smiles and a princely income. We have pleasure in quoting the Morn- ing Post's statement of Mr. Kean's reception, and the house which he drew last Friday. Had the article been a modern ' critique,' we should not have read it through ; but as it reports what actually took place by an eye- witness of the facts, we have perused and herewith extract it." Then follows the notice in the Morning Post, which we have given above. About this time, Madame Vestris, who had assumed the sovereignty of Covent Garden Theatre in the preceding autumn, expressed a desire to engage Charles Kean, to perform with Miss Ellen Tree, on his now recognized terms of 50/. per night. Mr. Webster hearing this, offered him the same sum, with half a benefit, for tAventy nights during three successive seasons, which offer he accepted. The Haymarket Theatre thus became, for a time, his London home. OF CHAELES^.^aW^'Wa^. 319 CHAPTER XVIII. FAREWELL BENEFIT OP WILLIAM DOWTON AT THE OPERA HOUSE — NEGO- TIATION OF CHARLES KEAN WITH SHERIDAN KNOWLES FOR A NEW PLAY — ENGAGEMENT AT BRIGHTON — THREATENED OPPOSITION OVER- COME — ROMEO AND JULIET AT THE HAYMARKET — EPIGRAM ON THE STRANGER — FAREWELL BENEFIT OF SAMUEL RUSSELL — MARRLVGE OF CHARLES KEAN WITH MISS ELLEN TREE LEADING INCIDENTS OF HER THEATRICAL HISTORY HER WONDERFUL ATTRACTION IN AMERICA SHERIDAN KNOWLES'S ROSE OF AREAGON, AT THE HAYMARKET— HIS EXCELLENCE AS A DRAMATIC WRITER — PURITY OF HIS FEMALE CHARAC- TERS — DEATH OP FREDERICK YATES — BRILLIANT AND SHORT CAREER OF ADELAIDE KEMBLE — SECOND ENGAGEMENT OP CHARLES KEAN AT DRURY LANE — HOSTILITY RENEWED. On Monday, the 8th of June, 1840, the veteran William Dowton took his farewell benefit at the Opera House, in the Haymarket, That theatre was selected, as its vast size could accommodate the looked-for crowds. Accord- ing to the date on his tombstone, at Norwood Cemetery, he must then have reached his seventy-seventh year — the only actor except Macklin who continued to wear his harness to such an advanced period. But he was robust and hale as Cornaro himself, who corroborated his own system by living up to 104. Dowton for nearly half a century had enjoyed a first-class repu- tation, but it was found that when extreme old age came upon him he had saved no money. A power- ful body of friends came forward to rescue him from impending want, by a benefit, with a general sub- scription. The "Poor Gentleman" was selected for performance, in which the aged actor appeared as >S'^/- Robert Bramble. Sheridan Knowles delivered an 320 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES addi-ess, and Dowton spoke a few valedictory words. With the proceeds, an annuity for a given number of years was purchased, on the amount of which he sub- sisted in ease and comfort ; but to the sui-prise of every one, by dint of regular habits and an iron constitution, he outlived the calculated time, and there was danger that he might be reduced to penury. He died on the 19th of August, 1849. Many leading unemployed members of the profession volunteered their services on the night of his benefit, — including W. Farren, Bartley, Harley, Cooper, Webster, Miss Ellen Tree, and Mrs. Glover. Dowton was an actor of strong, correct conception, and sterling powers ; hard and testy rather than rich or unctuous, and excellent in passionate old men. To these his own irritable temperament materially contributed. He was by far the best Sir Anthony Absolute of his day, and played the sleek hypocritical Dr. Ganticell with equal skill and discrimination. An anecdote connected with this part he used to relate himself. During a sum- mer at the Lyceum, the play of the " Hypocrite " formed one of the leading attractions. A lady of fashion drove up to the box-office, and said, " When does Dowton next appear as Dr. CantioeU, and what places can I have?" " On Wednesday next, Madam," was the reply, " and you can have Box No. 3. The performance is for Mr. Dowton^s benefit." "Oh!" exclaimed the liberal pa- troness, " I never go to benefits, and shall wait for another opportunity." Dowton, who happened to be standing in the hall, made her a profound bow as she took her departure, and uttered indignantly, " Thank you, Ma'am." Dowton's Falstaffs were sound and judicious, but he lacked the jocund rolling eye, and the rich overflowing humour which should pom' out involimtarily, coustitu- Pjna same time warm-hearted and generous. His oddities iTree, OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 321 tionally, and, as it were, in spite of itself. In 1836, he ventured to cross the Atlantic, and visit the United States; but he was too far advanced in life to attract attention or draw money. He came back almost as poor as he went; but with a change in his political opinions, in which he has had more than one companion. He entered the land of freedom a furious republican, — he returned from it an ultra tory. He was constitu- tionally discontented, captious, and fretful, but at the were very amusing to those who were intimate with him. He would sit for hours in his dressing-room, arranging and contemplating his wigs, those important lar .ffiptioi, irijlij, accessories to his stage make-up. One of his pecul f,)tliej{ nannerisms was never to play a part without turning his '.riktei *^S' ^ process legitimately belonging to Lmgo, in the liL' day, y" will aned I wait i «Tk Agreeable Surprise." When he acted Dr. PangJoss which, although not his London part, he constantly ssumed on the Kent circuit, where he was for some ,jjp -ears manager), a bet was made that here he would find yjj lis favourite manoeuvre impracticable. He managed it mta evertheless. When Kenrick, the faithful old Irish ser- ant, comes in exultingly, in the last scene, to announce I i-yj') he long-lost Henry Moreland, he was instructed to run I ;iju gainst Dr. PangJoss, who thus obtained the desired '•'fori pportunity of disarranging his head-gear. Dowton undervalued the elder Kean, whose merit he 3uld never be induced to acknowledge. When the vase as presented to that great actor by the committee and J )mpany of Drury Lane, he refused to subscribe, saying-. You may cup Mr. Kean if you please, but you shan^t [eed me." He said, too, the cup should be given to oe Munden, for his performance of Marall. Amongst ;her eccentricities, he fancied (a delusion common to ►medians) that he could play tragedy, and never rested TOL. I. Y 322 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES until lie obtained an opportunity of showing the town that Edmund Kean knew nothing of Shyhck. But the experiment was, as might have been expected, a total failure. The gi-eat point of novelty consisted in having a number of Jews in court, to represent his friends and partisans, during the trial scene ; and in their arms he fainted, when told he was, per force, to become a Chris- tian. The audience laughed outright, as a commentary on the actor's conception. Once he exhibited privately to the writer of these memoirs, the last scene of Sir Giles Overreach, according to his idea of the author's meaning. It occurred at supper, after a performance at Tunbridge Wells, in one of his own theatres, and a very mirthful tragedy it proved. He had a strange inverted idea, that Massinger intended Sir Giles for a comic cha- racter. He also fancied that he could play Lord Oglehijy when nature with her own hand had daguerreotyped him for Mr. Sterling. Such are the vagaries of genius, which are equally mournful and unaccountable. Charles Kean, still anxious for an original part, ha■^^ng failed in his application to Sir Edward Bulwer, now sought to negotiate with Sheridan Knowles, and wrote to him as follows : — " 30, Old Bond-street. " 15th July, 1840. " My dear Knowles,— " I am very sorry you should have left London with- out my seeing you, but I was under the impression thai you went into the country on Tuesday and would retun in a few days. On the other side I have written a fe-n lines to which I hope you will subscribe, and with whicl I trust you will be satisfied. " Sincerely yours, " Charles Kean.' OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 323 The accompanying agreement ran thus: — "Upon my approval of a new original play in five acts, written by James Sheridan Knowles, Esq., I will pay to the said James Sheridan Knowles, for the exclusive right of acting it in the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, and its dependencies, for three years, the sum of 600?. (six hundred pounds). On the third night of its being acted, the further sum of 501. ; on the sixth night, 50/, ; on the ninth, fifteenth, twentieth, twenty- fifth, thirtieth, and fortietli, 501. each, making in all, 1,000/. (one thousand pounds). In addition I give my consent to the printing of the play after it has been acted six nights, and for Mr. Knowles to derive all the advantages that may accrue therefrom." jl This offer Mr. Knowles declined, and there, for the niUfl )resent, the negotiation ended. It has two remarkable 'yF''! 'eatures — the large remuneration which dramatic authors ook for and receive in modern days, and the novelty of eading actors paying large sums for new plays, with hich desirable commodity managers in the olden time lilwei,! ^ere too happy to provide them, at their own expense, iiiil^nd for mutual advantage. Soon after the conclusion of his Haymarket engage- aent, which wound up with " Macbeth," on the 7th of Lugust, Charles Kean repaired to Brighton. But before e appeared there, some interest and a considerable dif- jrence of opinion had been stirred up in that fashionable laburb of London (as we may in truth now call it), by a lisunder standing which had arisen between Mr. J. Wal- ick and the managers of the Brighton theatre, leading ) the publication of an angry correspondence between . ,iem. In this Mr. C. Kean's name was unnecessarily n| id prejudicially mixed up with a controversy in which '3 had not the most remote connexion, either directly • by implication. The facts of the case, briefly stated, Y 2 iJQly,W i 324 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES stood thus : — Very soon after Mr. C. Kean's return from the United States, he had been engaged to represent in Brighton Hamlet, Richard, and the range of Shake- spearean parts he was in the known habit of performing. This engagement was to commence on the 7th of Septem- ber, and to run seven nights. According to the usual and reasonable practice in such cases, it was expressly stipu- lated, that, for the interest of both parties to the contract, those particular characters should not be personated by any one in the interval. Subsequently Mr. Wallack was engaged, and his appearance was to precede that of Charles Kean by a fortnight. No stipulation was made as to what parts Mr. Wallack should perform, the pre- sumption of the manager being that he (Mr. Wallack) would select them from amongst his usual run, and which certainly was not understood by theatrical people to include specially those reserved for j\Ir. Kean's en- gagement, but rather the reverse. A London actor, when "starring" in the country is usually expected tO; be most attractive in the line which has won for him his London reputation, and to select the characters which he has made peculiarly his own. The agreement be- tween Mr. Wallack and the Brighton manager was made in a loose manner. The omitted points ought to have been clearly defined at the time, and then no misunder- standing could have taken place ; but for these omissions Mr. Kean, by no possible perversion of reasoning, could be rendered responsible, as he received no intimation of the Wallack engagement until a later period. When the time for announcement duly arrived, Mr. Wallack gave the manager (Mr. Holmes) to understand, that he intended to commence with Richard the Third, and to follow up the first night by playing exactly those parts for which Mr. C. Kean was engaged. This ar- rangement, of coui'se, would have amounted to a direct A tkt OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 325 violation of the contract with Mr. Kean, and the manager felt himself unable to accede to it. However, Mr. Kean, on being apprised of the difficulty, and re- quested to forego his claims, refused to do so, but at once offered to relinquish the engagement, if the ma- nager considered it to stand in the way of his interest ; d by which means Mr. Wallack might be entitled to play whatever he chose. This the manager declined. Mr. Wallack' s engagement was consequently broken off, and in his published comments he complained bitterly of what he denounced as an unjust monopoly, and an ^" '™ anfair attempt to make private property of Shakespeare, '^ to the exclusion of the great body of actors, who had an jqual right in the reversionary succession. On general ™' ^ mnciples, there was reason in the argument ; but it ^^'P! ;ould not possibly bear on the individual case, — a pre- vious engagement, based on specific stipulations ; and Eion aci yjjici^ stipulations Mr. Wallack himself would un- i\m. loubtedly have insisted on, had the relative positions '• ™M)een reversed. Charles Kean, always reluctant to intrude himself on- he public in any capacity beyond the direct exercise of lis profession, paid no attention to the letters inserted the local papers from the contending parties, or be comments made on them, tending to foment dis- atisfaction, until his friends impressed on him the ecessity of a reply, to set matters right before he ppeared. Accordingly, he addressed the subjoined itter to the editor of the Brighton Herald, which reduced the desired effect in the most conclusive lanner : — "Old Ship Hotel, " 31st Aug. 1840. Sir, — " A published correspondence between Mr. Holmes id Mr. Wallack, to which my attention has been -;.i!o!ii ... misiiiit 326 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES called, imposes on me the duty of submitting to your readers a brief statement of facts, and thereby enabling them to judge for themselves whether anything I have done or written justifies the observations which have been made upon my conduct. " Early in June, shortly after my retm-n from America, Mr. Charles Hill called upon me in London, and en- gaged me to perform seven nights at the Brighton Theatre, to commence on the 7th of September. It was arranged on that occasion, that I should appear as early in the season as possible, /or the express pwyose of being the first visitor to personate the characters I am in the habit of performing ; as I was naturally anxious that, the attraction of those particular characters should not be diminished by previous representation. On this, point I was the more urgent, as it was to be my first; appearance, for two years, in a town where I had always; been received with so much kindness. The manager assured me that he should be injuring his oivn interest, as well as mine, by adopting any other com'se ; and, had it suited his convenience, I could and icoidd, for the reason above specified, have visited Brighton even earlier than the present period. " In the beginning of August, a letter, written in; answer to one of mine to the Brighton management on theatrical business, informed me for the first time that Mr. Charles Hill, who, I beheve, had then left this country for America, had entrusted the control of the theatre to Mr. Holmes ; that an engagement had been entered into, about the 31st of July, with Mr. AVallack, to appear on the 17th of August; and that he (Mr. Wallack) was anxious to perform Richard, Hamlet, and Macbeth. " Upon receiving this information, I immediately re- minded Mr. Holm-es of the terms of the understanding which existed between ISL*. Hill and myself, and at the 10 yoi aailiii id liai Ameii ^affile Bri^litffl 'm. appear wnto OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 327 same time remarked, that I could not consent to any arrangement contrary to those terms ; that the manager, however, teas perfectly/ at liberty to allow Mr. Wallack to perform the characters for which I had stipulated, before the 1th Sep)tember if he chose; but that I should in such case consider myself released from the agreement xoitli Mr. Hill. ' This is, in substance, the whole of the intercourse between Mr. Hill, Mr. Holmes, and myself respectively, with reference to my engagement ; and shows that, so far from my having ' interfered with the arrangements of others,'' others have sought to interfere with mine; iioiistlii and that I may justly complain of such interference, lioiild 1 when, after having formed an engagement early in the On tl season, for the express 'purpose^ and on the condition of myfii heing the first in the field, I find another performer, with iiialwai an engagement made long afier mine, endeavouring to niaDaf( anticipate by only a fortnight, the very characters for ttteiti \ijohich I had stipulated. The course Mr. Wallack has thought proper to pursue in involving my name in the controversy between itoneiBbim and Mr. Holmes is to be regretted, and the more 0, as the real question at issue seems to be one between ;hose two parties alone. Mentfl " In conclusion, I beg to assure you that I never in .•nmeiiany way, either directly or indirectly, presumed to ap- •; left i jbropriate to myself any character or characters, and most ritrolotiMispecially those of Shakespeare, held to be the common itlijiilBaroperty of all actors; but that my engagement was [r.Waiwormed solely with the object I have already expressed ; ;;atlie| Iknd it must be well known to all persons familiar with iiiilf(,i |;heatrical matters, that the frequent representation of the (same characters in a provincial theatre does not advance he interest either of the manager or of the actor. I sclaim most unreservedly the intention of injuring the 328 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES prospects of any member of my profession, and as un- feignedly repeat my regret that circmii stances should have caused, for the first time in my life, the vindication of my conduct to become the subject of discussion in a public journal. " I am. Sir, your obedient servant, " Chaeles Kean.' The Brighton engagement proved an additional triumph. The correspondent of the Morning Post thus communicated the result of the first night : — '■^ Brigliton, Sept. 8. — After the recent correspondence in which the name of the popular actor, ]\lr. Charles Kean, was involved, it was fully expected that his reception on the Brighton boards last night would not have been altogether of so gratifying a character as he has been accustomed to experience in this town. Every part of the house was quite filled, and the boxes included a large sprinkling of fashionable company. " Hamlet' was the play, and on the first appearance of the Ghost, the gallery loudly applauded ; and the moment Mr. Kean entered upon the scene, a simultaneous burst of welcome proceeded from the pit and boxes, a great portion of the company standing. If there was any displeasure shown in the gallery, which we did not hear, it was completely lost in the cheers from the boxes, which lasted for upwards of a minute. The house then became perfectly silent, and the play proceeded. His Hamlet was a beautiful performance ; he appeared to have derived fresh vigour from the cordial reception. He was frequently interrupted by loud plaudits from all parts of the house, and when the manager came on to announce the performance for the following evening, there were loud calls for Kean. The actor obeyed the OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 329 mandate, and bowed his acknowledgments, retiring amidst unbomided applause. He plays Claude Melnotte to-night, and repeats Hamlet on Saturday." This Brighton episode, which at one time threatened a storm, having blown over, Charles Kean continued his usual progress through the country, and again visited the leading towns in which he had won much of his early reputation. Everywhere he found his attraction unvarying, and with each succeeding year his fame and fortune steadily advanced together. On the 17th of May, 1841, his performances at the Haymarket were resumed with " Macbeth." This third engagement, like the two preceding ones, extended far beyond the term specified in the contract, and reached thirty-seven nights. " Macbeth " and " Romeo and Juliet "were the two prevailing attractions, the former being repeated ten, the latter twelve nights. During this season, Charles Kean performed the Stranger, for the first time in London, which gave rise to the following epigram in one of the weekly papers : — " WHICH IS THE STRANGER ? " On those cocks of the scene, Macready and Kean, We thus may decide without danger ; Throughout all its range, Though ]\Iacready is strange, Yet Kean, of the two, is the Stranger^ In "Romeo and Juliet" the heroine was performed by Miss Ellen Tree ; the Mercutio being Mr. J. Wallack. The play was produced under the direction of Charles Kean, affording the first stamp of that rare combination of taste and judgment which he has since carried to such perfection in the Shakespearean revivals at the Princess's Theatre. 330 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES On the 1st of July, 1840, " Macbeth" was performed for the benefit and farewell of Samuel Thomas Russell, a very old actor, who had been attached to the London theatres upwards of forty years. On this occasion Kean contributed a donation of 20/. Russell was generally known in the profession by the sobriquet of "Jerry Sneak," from his excellence in that one character ; just as " Single Speech" Hamilton obtained his distinctive pre- nomen from a solitary display of eloquence in the more exalted theatre of St. Stephen's. But here, as Lord Byron says, " all likeness ends between the pair f for we never heard that Jerry Sneak Russell was suspected of being Junius, while it is certain that Single Speech Hamilton was included in the list of nominees to the unacknowledged but somewhat dangerous authorship of the far-famed letters. Charles Kean's third Hay market engagement termi- nated on the 6th of August. On the 29th of January, 1842, occurred the most auspicious event in his life — the wisest step he had ever taken — and the surest gua- rantee of his future prosperity. He was married at the church of St. Thomas, in Dublin, to Miss Ellen Tree ; a mutual attachment of long standing, and in every respect " a well-assorted union." By this, Charles Kean not only secured his domestic happiness, but obtained a large addition to his worldly means, and an invaluable co-operator in his theatrical career. By a rare combi- nation of private and professional excellence, Miss Ellen Tree had already acquired a handsome indejjendence, and had placed herself in the foremost rank of the dis- tinguished females whose names shed lustre on the history of the British drama. In characters requiring great physical power, with the sterner and more com- manding attributes, something might be wanting in which she had been excelled by a few of her predeces- OP CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 331 sors ; but in all the softer delineations, in a just discri- mination of tlie tenderer and more womanly passions, in versatility, in natural pathos, or elegant vivacity, — iu a clear comprehension of her author's meaning, and in lady-like deportment — she was, and is, without a supe- rior on the modern stage. Miss E. Tree (now Mrs. C. Kean) is one of four sisters who all evinced a predilection for the drama at very early years. Their father held a situation in the East India House. The mother still lives, happy in "a green old age," in the full possession of her faculties, a remarkable instance of health and longevity. Before Ellen appeared on the boards, the name of Tree had already become cele- brated by the performance of the elder sister, Maria, an acting vocalist of superior ability, who will long be re- membered, in conjunction with Miss Stephens and ]\liss Paton, as upholding the charms of pure English song, with combined though varied excellence, at the same theatre (Co vent Garden), during several brilliant seasons. Miss Maria Tree, in 1825, married Mr. Bradshaw, a gentleman of fortune, sometime member for Canterbury, and retired from professional life, too soon for the public, although infinitely to her own happiness and advantage. Miss E. Tree first appeared in public, at Covent Garden, when scarcely seventeen, as Olivia in " Twelfth Night," for her sister's benefit. She next acted in Edinburgh and Bath, and after a period of successful practice, obtained an engagement at Drury Lane, — her opening j)art being Violante, in the " Wonder." On this occasion one of her most eminent predecessors, Mrs. Davison, assumed the subordinate duties of Flora. To Violante succeeded Letitia Hardy, Albiiia Mandeville, Rosalie Somers, Charlotte, in the " Hypocrite," and Miss Hardcastle, in all of which she rapidly advanced in public favour, until the production of the "Youthful 332 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Queen," when her admirable performance of Christina established her as a permanent London favourite. In 1829, her services were transferred to Covent Garden, where she appeared in the character of Lady Townly. Frangoise de Foix, in Miss Fanny Kemble's play of " Francis the First " was the first part that gave even herself a notion that she could act tragedy. This induced her to play Romeo for her benefit, to Miss Kemble's Juliet, which hazardous attempt she achieved with singular success, all the newspapers being unani- mous in her praise. In 1832, she made her first visit to Dublin, in which city she was the original represen- tative of Jidia, in the " Hunchback," when Sheridan Knowles appeared as Master Walter in his own play. The period was one of cholera and dreary political agitation^ which hung heavily on the fortunes of the theatre ; nevertheless, Ellen Tree, during that short in- troduction, established a good understanding with her new audience, which increased with every succeeding engagement. Dm-ing Mr. Bunn's management of both the national theatres, she appeared as Myrrha, in " Sar- danapalus," which she studied in a few hours when the negotiation (real or fictitious) with Mrs. Mardyn fell through. After this, she represented Rachel, the heroine in the successful play of the " Jewess," which ran up- wards of a hundred nights. At the close of the Drury Lane season, she went to the Haymarket, where she proved very attractive in Viola, in " Twelfth Night, " in a new drama called the " Ransom," and in the youthful hero of Serjeant Talfourd's classical tragedy of *' Ion," which ran thirty nights to great houses. Between the years 1836 and 1839, she visited America, and during a lengthened sojourn of two years and nine months, traversed the whole extent of the United States, winning everywhere golden opinions, and bearing away OF CHAKLES KEAN, F.S.A. 333 a substantial harvest of enduring metal. Few English performers have been so universally attractive. The sum realized amounted to 12,000Z., which speaks for itself. After a short engagement at the Haymarket, on her re- turn from America, she migrated once more to Covent Garden, where she performed the Countess of Eppenstem, in Knowles's "Love," for fifty-two consecutive nights. During the year 1840, Leigh Hunt's play of a " Legend of Florence," was produced at Covent Garden. The author and the management were unwilling to offer what appeared such an insignificant part as Genevra to an actress of her high standing and attraction ; but she saw in it the opportunity which she amply verified, in the overpowering effect of one agonizing burst, "Good God! what have I done ? " If we were to select the two characters in which Mrs. C. Kean appeared to the greatest advantage, before she glided into the more matronly line which she now fills, we should name Rosalind and Viola. Perhaps the latter was the most faultless performance on the modern stage. It presented one of the sweetest creations of Shakespeare's fancy, embodied as exactly as if the accom- plished representative had been foreseen by the imagi- nation of the author. In figure, features, expression, and elegant propriety of costume, in the delicate humour of the lighter points, and the exquisite pathos of the serious passages, the portrait was one in which the most exceptions caviller would have been taxed to discover a defective feature, or suggest an improvement. Not many years since, we happened to sit in the stalls of the Princess's Theatre, next to an enthusiastic septua- genarian, who proved to be anything but one of Horace's types of old age, represented by the satirist, as — "Difficilis, querulus, laudator temporis acti Se puero." S34 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES He remembered Mrs. Jordan as Viola, during the zenitli of her reputation. We entered into talk, and he volun- teered a comparison. Mrs. Jordan, he said, was, on the whole, inferior to Mrs. C. Kean. She had greater breadth, higher colouring, more exuberant spirits, and a broad- wheeled laugh peculiar to herself, which bore down every thing before it; but all this, he added, would appear coarse and vulgar to modern ideas of refinement. In personal requisites, in elegance and delicacy of manner, in the grace of sentiment and general finish, the picture was incomplete, and much less agreeable than that pre- sented by her successor. The marriage of Mr. and Mrs. Charles Kean took place on the last day of their Dublin engagement, and on that same evening, by an odd but accidental coinci- dence, they performed together in the " Honejonoon." For private and professional reasons of their own, the union was not immediately made public. Their first appearance in the acknowledged characters of man and wife occurred at Glasgow, on the 27th of the following February, the combined attraction producing, in five performances, included in one week, the sum of 1,000Z. On the 4th of April, 1842, they commenced a joint engagement at the Haymarket, which extended over fifty-two nights, comprised within a period of little more than three months, and ending on the 16th of July. " As You Like It," the " Gamester," and the "Lady of Lyons," were frequently repeated; but the chief novelty consisted in a new play by Sheridan Knowles, called the "Rose of Arragon" — the same for which Charles Kean had offered 1,000?. a year or two before, but which the author now placed at the disposal of the Haymarket manager on much less advantageous terms. This play succeeded in representation, and OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 335 commanded twenty-five consecntive repetitions ; but it has vanished entirely from the permanent acting list, and must be looked upon as one of the least agreeable productions of a very superior dramatist. James Sheridan Knowles has long ceased to write for the stage, and has merged into a theological contro- versialist, or lay preacher, in the Baptist communion ; carrying into his newly selected avocation the same fervid enthusiasm which marked the preceding phases of his chequered career. Under these circumstances, we may speak of him, dramatically considered, as be- longing to history. Of his fifteen plays, which will all live in print, six at least are likely to keep possession of the stage as long as the stage lasts in the United King- dom. These are, " Virginius," "William Tell," the "Hunchback," the "Wife," the "Love Chase," and " Love." After the production of the last, the pen of Knowles moved heavily, and his poetic imagination began to grow torpid. If votes were collected by ballot to decide on the comparative pretensions of all the dramatic writers of the present age, we are inclined to think a large majority would assign the first post of honour to Knowles, and select " Virginius" as the best acting play of modern times. Sharp criticism has pointed out some trifling incongruities in the arrange- ment of the plot, occasional slips in the diction, and a weakness approaching to anti-climax in the fifth act; but sharp criticism investigates with a microscopic eye, and could detect a flaw in the Pitt diamond, or the Koh-i-noor. The more enlarged and liberal gaze of admiration embraces beauty in the mass, and bestows no thought on an almost imperceptible blemish. In opposition to the verdict in favour of " Virginius," we shall be told that a subject selected from history, which the adopter finds ready to his hand, draws less 336 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES upon liis genius than one which he must invent. Many- authors can write good dialogue who are unable to con- struct effective plots, or to work up telling situations. The late Douglas Jen-old may be quoted as an example. Beaumont excelled in the one branch, Fletcher in the other. Hence they worked well together, and the con- junction saved time and trouble, while it insured success. For this reason modem French dramatists ordinarily run in couples, and not unfrequently in leashes. So it is with the fashioners of the garments we wear. One passes competition in the cut of a coat, another stands alone in a waistcoat, and a third baffles rivalry in the graceful folds of the nether integuments. But it is most rare to find one pair of shears equally excellent in a com- plete suit. We once heard an author, of first-rate executive skill, say, " I have no inventive faculty ; I cannot imagine a plot. Furnish me with that, and you shall have such a play as you require in a fortnight." The writer alluded to was offered his own price, and would have had no objection to increase his already ample worldly store by a good round sum. Viewed in the light here stated, such entirely origi- nal plays as the " Hunchback," the " Wife," the " Daughter," the " Love Chase," and " Love," are en- titled to take rank in a class superior to those selected from historical annals, although embellished with all the charms of poetry, and the full force of distinct, identical character. Yet the great Greek fathers of the drama, ^schylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, invariably drew from the legendary or traditional lore handed down to them through recorded history and mythology. The diction, the imagery, the philosophical reflections, the moral, the consequences, the effect upon human trans- actions, the happiness resulting from virtue, the misery inseparable from crime ; — all these arise, and are em- OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 337 ylbodied as they arise, from that innate power possessed ly the writers of conveying what they feel ; but the ower and the feeling are not engendered from imagi- ary or poetical possibilities ; — they are derived from the tudy of real events. Gibbon, in writing of the Emperor Heraclius, has ivided his public life into three distinct epochs — the )pening, the meridian, and the decline. The first and last, comparatively inferior; the central, effulgent in atness. It is so with Knowles in reference to the leinjirder of his plays. The earliest and the latest* are not ose by which his genius can be estimated. The roduce of his mature manhood has elevated him to is exalted post in the temple of Fame; and by this rate posterity will test his comparative excellence. It is teresting to the curious inquirer as a study, that all e productions of a great writer should be preserved ; iat the accompanying reflection, nemo fuit unquam sic ipar sihi, presents itself with almost inseparable cer- inty. Even Homer slumbered sometimes ; and there e passages attributed to Shakespeare which we should ;e to feel convinced he had never written. Knowles has evidently built himself on the dramatists the Elizabethan age, with their immediate successors d followers ; — a school which has been pedantically oted, and cried up ad nauseam, and in imitating ich many have totally failed. He, their most suc- sful imitator, has much of their vigour and intensity, ir nature, their strong sense of the harrowing and hetic, their power of condensed expression, and etimes more than their flowing poetry. He occa- nally copies their conceits, and deviates into their bal obscurity; but he never emulates their coarse- " Leo the Gipsy," " Brian Boroilime," " Caius Gracchus," and ' Ifred," werewi'itten before " Virginius." VOL. I. Z leto ''y;1 il von I .;' k y& en- j^kted \ntli al fctinct,] -rj of till nYariaU] CtlOttS, 338 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES ness, or heightens a plot by their unnatural and revolt- ing extravagance. Above all, he draws woman as if he loved and reverenced her, — with a delicate and admiring hand, with a fervent and devoted heart. His female portraitures present no Clytemnestras, Messalinas, Me- deas, or Lady Macbeths. He reserves the dark, the stormy, and the evil passions for the workings of man's ■ heart, and the process of man's machinations. He con- templates woman in the abstract, as Jqffier looks with rapturous affection on Belvidera in the individual : — " Sure you were made To temper man ; — we had been brutes without you. Angels were painted fan- to look like you ; There's in you all that we believe of Heaven — Amazing brightness, purity, and tmth, Eternal joy, and everlasting love." Knowles's delineations of the softer sex are unexcep- tionably beautiful. They are finished with a grace anc delicacy which Shakespeare only can excel, and entitlt I him to a laurel wreath, entwined by the fair fingers o the loveliest and the most exalted in the land. We an truly rejoiced at this opportunity of rendering feebL tribute to the first of living dramatists, who combine the truth and energy of the giants of an earlier age entirely divested of those errors in taste which blacke; and deform many of their most resplendent passages.* On the 21st of June, 1842, poor Frederick Yate died, at the premature age of forty-five. The imme diate cause of his decease w^as the second or third ruf ture of a blood-vessel, which occurred on the 26th ( March, while he was rehearsing a new part on the stag * In 1847, the Whigs offered Knowles a pension of 100^. a-yea which, though poor, he indignantly declined. It has since 1)een aii mented to 200?., which he now enjoys. It was intended to have mai him cm-ator of Shakespeare's birth-place, at Stratford-on-Avon, witb suitable endowment, but both plans failed from want of fimds. OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 339 of the Dublin Theatre, preparatory to the commence- ment of an engagement on the following day. He went home to his hotel, and never appeared in public again. He was an actor of very versatile powers, and of inde- il« fatigable activity as a manager. After a most success- Ful novitiate in Edinburgh, he made his first bow at event Garden as lago, on the 7th of November, 1818, Dn which occasion Young was the Othello^ C. Kemble, wit! Cassto, and Miss O'Neill, Desdemona. During the season he played Falstaff ; Gloster in "Jane Shore;" Berthold, a very striking part in an unsuccessful tragedy 3y Maturin; Sylvester Daggerwood, and Casca; Flexible, n imitation of Mathews ; Roh Roy, Sliyloch, and Dick n the "Apprentice." But his hit was in " Cozening," m interlude written expressly for him, in which he )ersonated seven different characters. This little piece ''^■^''i an for nearly thirty nights. Yates would have held ^^^^^' auch higher ground than he ultimately attained if he ad confined himself to a more restricted line, and had ■'''^^*' bstained from imitation, the constant practice of which [\ afected his originality, and infused itself into his atural manner almost without his own consciousness. Jut it must be admitted that his imitations were almost good as those of Mathews, his friend and model. Yates married ]\Iiss Brunton, one of the most delight- '^l^^ il actresses of her day, * whether in tragedy or comedy, s well as a thoroughly amiable woman, and has left an nly son, who has acquired distinction in several fields t'^<' if literature. m a; il jiiilie [Mi This same year, 1842, witnessed also the short but azzling career of another scion of the gifted family of Lcmble, — Adelaide, the second daughter of Charles emble, who flashed with the brightness of a meteor * She came out at Covent Garden as Letitia Hardy, on the l'2th of eptember, 1817, and has retured for many years. z2 340 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES across the theatrical horizon, and left a long train ot light behind her when she disappeared. Had she con- tinued on the stage, and devoted herself to tragedy alone, independent of her extraordinary vocal powers, ! she would have carried away the palm from nearly all competitors. She resembled Pasta in style, and her illustrious aunt in appearance, although not on the same majestic scale. Her brief coui-se lasted only from the 20th of November, 1841, to the 23d of December, 1842. ; No succeeding English singer has rivalled her excel- ' lence in the art musical, while acting remains almost a ' sealed book to the whole race of nightingales. During the summer of 1843, Charles Kean concluded his three years' contract at the Haymarket. On this occasion he appeared without his wife for twenty nights, Mrs. C. Kean being unable to support him, in conse- quence of her approaching confinement with their only child, a daughter, born on the 18th of September in that year. During the subsequent winter he entered into another single engagement with Mr. Bunn, at Drury Lane, receiving the same payment as in 1838. In the course of this term, "Richard the Third" was produced in a style of unprecedented magnificence, with historical costumes and appointments. The hostile clique which had so perseveringly attended Charles Kean at the Haymarket, followed him to the changed scene of action. Night after night, penetrating above the loud applauses of the great majority of the house, the two or three dis- sentient voices made themselves conspicuously audible. Wherever the actor went in London, they dogged his steps, and sought to check his popularity and inward, satisfaction, as the slave danced in mockery before thf, chariot of the Roman conqueror throughout his trium- phal progress. The most extraordinary feature of thif strange persecution was, that the instigators, whoeve) OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 341 tliej might be, must have carried it on at the expense of their pockets — a test of malevolence which the most ietermined enemy usually shrinks from, and which proves the personal animosity in this instance to have been deeply rooted indeed. Malice will make great sacrifices, and encounter risk and labour, to attain a :herished object ; — in short, do all but dive into its own ourse. When it goes that length, and pays for in- lulgence, the exception parallels a black swan in rarity. Lord Byron, echoing Machiavelli, in verse, says, with rue knowledge of human nature, — " Kill a man's family, and he may brook it ; But keep your hands out of his breeches-pocket." ^ piotliia liistoiii iiiati ofacli applaJ lyaii inii befoB liist ,tiiieofl ^\ 342 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES CHAPTER XIX. MR. AND MRS. C. KEAN VISIT AMERICA TOGETHER — RESIDENCE THERE FOR NEARLY TWO YEARS — ENORMOUS RECEIPTS OF THE FIRST YEAR — THE wife's SECRET — KING JOHN — RICHARD THE THIRD — RETURN TO ENG- LAND — SHORT VISIT TO DUBLIN — APPEARANCE AT THE HAYMARKET IN THE WIFE'S SECRET — SUCCESSFUL RUN OF THE NEW PLAY — GENERAL: ATTRACTION OF THE ENGAGEMENT PRIVATE THEATRICALS AT WINDSOR CASTLE — CHARLES KEAN APPOINTED DIRECTOR BY HER MAJESTY — DIF- FICULTIES ATTENDANT ON THE POST — HE PRESIDES AT THE FOURTH^ ANNIVERSARY DINNER OF THE GENERAL THEATRICAL FUND — SPEECHES' ON THAT OCCASION — RETIREMENT AND DEATH OF MRS. GLOVER. America has always been considered an " El Dorado "J hy the leading actors of the London stage, — a safe re-r serve to retreat on should home attraction slumber oi; threaten to decline. The truth of the hypothesis hajj generally established itself by successful experimentj The most remarkable instance to the contrary happenecj in the case of ]\Iadame Vestris and Mr. Charles ]\Iathewsii which infinitely surpassed all previous calculation. Thei: want of the expected success could not be traced to anV; affectation of squeamish propriety because they borj different names ; for they were married, and the marriag; publicly announced before they left England. Man;! said that the lady would subdue by her exquisite tast* in costume if not by her talent ; that she would conque with her wardrobe if she failed with her eyes and voic(' They who thought so, forgot that the fashionable dame; of New York are the most showy dressers in the worki and watch the latest Parisian novelties with restlef, anticipation. Some asserted that the clever coup" '.M OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 343 were received coldly because C. Mathews's father had offended American nationality by an extravagant cari- cature of their peculiarities. This could hardly be, for their own actors had done the same, although it is true they might tolerate in one " native and to the manner born" what they refused to permit in an impertinent *' Britisher." But no matter what might be the cause, the case proved an exception to the standard rule. Mr. and Mrs. C. Kean (the latter in particular) were desirous of paying another visit to the many kind friends they had formerly made in the great Western Republic. A very tempting offer presenting itself, they laid aside several excellent engagements at home, and in the summer of 1845 once more embarked for the United States. Being at Liverpool for that purpose, they crossed over to Dublin to take a temporary leave of their Irish patrons, and performed two nights, on the 28th and 29th of July, to crowded houses, and sailed from the shores of England on the 2d of August following. Throughout the Union their success was everywhere jperiffl ^' prodigious." By the close of the first year they Um realized and sent safely home a greater profit than had sMb ever before been accomplished on the same prolific ttoiifi ground within the same time. A new play, called •' The Wife's Secret," which they imported with them, j)roved invariably attractive wherever it was performed. This play, a production of sterling merit, combining [ If^ beauty of language with powerful dramatic incident and situation, was written by Mr. G. Lovell, already well jjtjjj known to the literary and theatrical world by the .jjI^ "Merchant of Bruges," "Love's Sacrifice," the novel of the " Trustee," and many contributions to leading periodicals. The "Wife's Secret" was purchased by Kean, who fully relied on the talent of his author, for the large sum of 400Z., before it was commenced. In 344 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES the year 1846, Charles Kean ventured on an experi- ment never before hazarded in America — the production of the two historical tragedies of " King John " and " Richard the Third," on a scale of splendour which no theatre in London or Paris could have surpassed. The scenery, the decorations, the banners, armorial bearings, heraldic blazonry, groupings, weapons of war, costumes, furniture, and all the minor details were so correctly studied that the most scrutinizing reader of Montfaucjon or Meyrick would have been puzzled to detect an error. But our brethren of the stars and stripes are utilitarians rather than antiquaries ; more inclined to look in ad- , vance thau to turn over pages of the past, or to pore into ancient chronicles. They appeared not to understand or enjoy with a perfect zest the pomp of feudal royalty, and the solemn display of baronial privileges. The upshot of all was that the expenditure far exceeded the return, and the produce of the second year bore no com- parison with that of the first. In the summer of 1847, IMr. and Mrs. C. Kean left the shores of America (where they had found a second home) with many grateful reminiscences, and once more landed safely in England. Their first act on arriving at home was one of disinterested kindness. Hearing, through a mutual friend, that the lessee of the Dublin Theatre had, during their absence, been less prosperous than his well-wishers desired, or his unremitting exer- tions might have justified him in expecting, they pro- ceeded at once, after scarcely any interval of repose, to Ireland, and volunteered to perform for his benefit. The attraction of these powerful auxiliaries, added to the personal popularity of the manager, produced a house crowded by all the rank and fashion of the Irish metro- polis. The play selected was the "Jealous Wife," in which Mr. and Mrs. C. Kean appeared (for the first time \tk li A % Tk m% TCCtlj taiicoi . emt, tariaiii in ai ffl iDts ■^■•Tal : Tt OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 345 in Europe) as 3Ir. and Mrs. Oahly. The Lord- Lieutenant, the Earl of Clarendon, who had very lately- entered on his office, was there, with the Countess, and the usual viceregal suite. There were also present Sir Edward Blakeney, the commander of the forces in Ire- land ; Prince George of Cambridge, commanding the district ; the Lord Mayor, with other civic dignitaries ; many of the leading judges and barristers, and nearly all the officers of the garrison. A more brilliant assem- blage has seldom been collected together within the walls of a theatre. Their Excellencies, the Lord- Lieutenant and his Lady, expressed warm approbation of the performance, and on tlie following Saturday, the 31st of July, repeated their visit to the theatre, in state, commanding the appearance of Mr. and Mrs. C. Kean in the comedy of the " Wonder." This led to a second house, as numerously attended as the former one. They had thus the satisfaction of rendering a double service to an old and valued friend at a very critical juncture. After going through a series of engagements, all settled before they had sailed for America, in Birming- ham, Manchester, Liverpool, and Dublin, they returned to London, to recommence operations at the Haymarket Theatre, early in January, 1848. They were, as a matter of course, disposed to start with their acknowledged round of Shakespearean characters, but were strongly urged not to do so by more than one judicious friend who had closely watched the shifting temperature of theatrical politics during their absence, and wisely counselled T m them against this very natural course, which, they said, ^ ' Jwould assuredly lead to a revival of the old opposition, \ iTpith added virulence. The advisers had no positive * Iforoof to produce, no tangible evidence of premeditated „, -onspiracy, nothing beyond the strong conviction which . ibometimes imnresses itself on tlie mind, and cannot be fott aniviD! Wmi •Dili ■:i«peroii ^ m [ley pro 346 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES sliaken by tlie absence of logical demonstration. They were convinced of the fact, and spoke accordingly. Acting on this suggestion, which entirely accorded with their own feelings, Mr. and Mrs. C. Kean decided on the new play of the " Wife's Secret" for their first appear- ance, on the 17th of January. The result proved that the selection was judicious. The reception of the re- turned favourites, and the success of the play, were equally enthusiastic, and no dissent was even faintly attempted. The "Wife's Secret" ran thirty-six nights with undiminished effect ; the engagement, originally for thirty nights, was extended to sixty ; and on the occa- sion of their benefit, her Majesty honoured them with her presence, conferring the distinction of a " special patronage." This was the first time during a long service of twenty years that Charles Kean had been fortunate enough to obtain an original part of any im- portance ; but Sir Walter Amyot can scarcely be ranked as a first-rate character, being througliout the play sub- ordinate to his wife, the Lady Eveline. Tip to this period his reputation had been exclusively built on his illustrations of Shakespeare. In this respect his fiitlier and himself had been less fortunate than their prede- cessors. Rolla, the Stranger, Penmddock, and Octa- vian assisted the fame of John Kemble, nearly as much as Hamlet, Lear, Wolsey, or Coriolanus. Virginius, William Tell, Werner, Claude Melnotte, and Cardinal Richelieu, proved more valuable stepping-stones to Macready than Kiyig John, Othello, or Macbeth. At the close of 1848, Charles Kean was selected, without application on his part, to conduct the " Windsor theatricals " — a series of private perform- ances at the Castle, adopted by the Queen and the Prince Consort, with the double object of promoting the interests of the British drama, while they gratified OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 347 their own personal inclinations. The principle proposed and carried out was, that the performers should be selected indiscriminately according to their abilities, and without reference to any particular theatre or indi- vidual interest. It was manifest to all, except the discontented minority who can find good in nothing, that this was a great step towards the restoration of fashion to the once crowded but now almost abandoned temples of dramatic worship. In this her Majesty inherited the taste of her grandfather, King George III., with whom the theatre was ever a favourite relaxation. When in the comparative retirement of Windsor and Weymouth, his usual habit was, to command twice a-week, and to go in private on the other two nights of performance. The managers made fortunes, and the actors were exalted. His Majesty and Queen Charlotte once actually travelled all night from Weymouth to London to open parliament, that they might not disap- point a favourite comic performer to whom they had promised their patronage on his benefit night, which had been unavoidably postponed. It was suggested to the kind-hearted monarch that he might send the actor a present, which would compensate for his disappoint- ment. " No, no," replied the King, " I should do that at any rate ; but poor fellow, poor fellow ! he will think much more of our being there than of anything we Csri^ might give him." The compliment of being appointed her Majesty's "master of the revels" in her own private palace, was undoubtedly one of the most gi-atifying nature, both to the man and the actor ; but the difficulties by which it was accompanied might stand by the labours of n d% Herculesj and lose nothing in the comparison. A very general desire was manifested to appear before royalty, in royalty's select retreat ; but it was no easy 348 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES matter to reconcile conflicting claims, or bring down expectations, almost invariably preposterous, to a prac- ticable standard. That Charles Kean acquitted himself to the perfect satisfaction of his august employers, may be assumed from the facts that her Majesty presented him with a diamond ring, and accorded him the still more flattering honour of a personal interview.* To satisfy all his brethren of the sock and buskin was a much more arduous undertaking. He worked with un- ceasing tact, command of temper, and the most perfect impartiality ; but he discovered ere long that to roll up- hill the stone of Sisyphus, to draw water in the bucket of the Danaidffl, to carve Mount Athos into a statue, to dance for uninten-upted hours on the tread-mill, to be fitted to the bed of Procrustes, or to lie on the burning couch of Guatimozin, would be gentle recreation compared to the complicated, impracticable, and hopeless task which he had vainly expected to accomplish. The object and advantages of the Royal Theatricals were well set forth in the following notice, which appeared in the Times of Friday, the 26th of January, 1849:— " For the last month, the plays acted in the Rubens Room at Windsor Castle, have afforded a fertile topic of conversation to those who take interest in the proceed- ings of the Court, and those who discuss the fluctuating fortunes of the British drama. The fact that the Sovereign bespoke a series of English theatrical perform- ances as a recreation in her own palace, has at least the charm of novelty to recommend it to the attention of the curious. Fancy has wandered back to the days of Elizabeth and the first James, when such means of amusement were not uncommon ; and perhaps, * On the 21st of February, 1849. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 349 wandering forward, has augured that a new stock of iiac. dramatists worthy to compete with tliose of the EHza- nsel bethan era may spring into existence from the effect of the Windsor Theatricals. " With respect to the performances just concluded, they seem to have been conducted in the very best taste, and to have given unequivocal satisfaction to the distin- guished auditors. Mr. Charles Kean, under whose direction the whole has taken place, Mr. Grieve, the head of the decorative department, and the principal performers, have all received the special approbation of royalty ; and there is no doubt that an entertain- ment adequate to the royal wishes has been provided on every occasion. " The courtly assembly seems to have laid aside that frigidity which is usually the characteristic of private theatricals, and to have applauded with the zeal of a money-paying public, thoroughly pleased with the return for its outlay. It is a fallacy to suppose that a theatrical exhibition can go on briskly without applause. Approbation is the meat, drink, and spirit of the histri- onic artist; and his professional life, without this aliment constantly bestowed, is a dreary waste without an oasis. " With the large public — the public outside the Castle the question a^pro'pos of these theatricals is, whether or not they confer a benefit on the English drama. That the benefit will not be of that immediately palpable nature which would result from half-a-dozen royal visits in state, and the crowds consequent thereupon, must, we think, be conceded by any impartial person. But at the same time we are inclined to decide tliat an indirect benefit to the English theatres is far from improbable. " When the highest personage in the land considers topic! jHMMI KtOltiD U peifoi lit iaitiwi tlieJ»I pab? 350 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES that an English dramatic performance is such an enter- tainment as to merit the construction of a stage in her own drawing-room, with all the appurtenances of a regular theatre, the opinion that the native drama is unfashionable receives an authoritative rebuke. The plays acted at Windsor Castle are the same that may be seen at the Haymarket and the Lyceum ; the actors in the Rubens Room are precisely the same individuals who appear on the public boards ; and it would be absurd to say that an entertainment which occupies a high rank at Windsor, loses that rank when it comes to the metropolis. " The very circumstance that theatricals are now generally talked about, is in itself likely to be of advan- tage to the English drama. A certain elevated class of the public, by shunning English theatres and skipping English critiques, might soon lose sight of the native drama altogether. But now, the plays and the actors are forced upon the attention of the higher orders from another point. He who studies the proceedings of the Court, has an English theatrical programme thrust into his view ; and the same course of reading which tells ; him that her Majesty took an airing, also informs him i that Mr. and Mrs. C. Kean -pl^j Hamlet and Ophelia. The i crowded state of the principal theatres would seem to j indicate that an awakened interest for theatricals ist already taking effect. I " That many private controversies have arisen respect-«i ing the formation of the theatrical company at Windsor ' Castle, we are perfectly aware. Some have considered i themselves unjustly excluded; others, although admitted, ' have thought themselves disadvantageously placed. These controversies, which are almost infinite in number, each involving its own distinct point, are not within our province. That every one of a class should be satisfied! 11 enter einW -» of a liama is e. Ik tmajk * actors lividiialj •oiili k 'Copies a wmes to ifadvan- class of >k Tk B respect iWinfe snsiieii .admitlf r pld mnmiiiii TitliM jesatefe OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 351 when a selection was to be made, was mathematically impossible. The right and wrong of each individual case is a matter of separate discussion, and much more concerns the parties themselves, than the public before the lamps. "In conclusion, if the royal theatricals at Windsor give an impulse to the drama which proves advan- tageous to its professors, we hope that the exertions of Mr. Charles Kean may not be entirely forgotten." The Windsor performances were continued annually at the Castle at the Christmas season, since the first series, interrupted only on three occasions, — in 1850, m by the death of the Dowager Queen Adelaide ; in 1855, in consequence of the national gloom resulting from the precarious situation of our armies in the Crimea ; and in %iD» 1858, on the marriage of the Princess Royal, when le native they were superseded by other arrangements. Mr. C. lie actor} Kean, in his capacity of Chairman at the dinner of the iersfoil General Theatrical Fund, on the 21st of May, 1849, when proposing her Majesty's health, spoke as follows bstinti with reference to the advantages accruing from the royal iiicli tel patronage ; and what he said was unanimously echoed by the assembled company : — * " The members of the theatrical profession have ever been signalized by their devoted loyalty. You are tricalsifj aware that in the troubled times of Charles I., those times, according to the satiric poet, " When hard words, jealousies, and fears Set folks together by the ears," when political quarrels and puritanic frenzy closed the' theatres, — nearly the whole of the actors took up arms in the cause of their royal master. Hart, Robinson, and Mohun, held commissions in the king's service, and * See pubUshed " Proceedings of the Foui-th Anniversary Festival of the General Theatrical Fund : 18-19." 852 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES were remarkable for their gallant conduct. At a later period, Smith, Griffin, Carlisle, and Wiltshire, served as captains in the wars of William III. ; and the two ' latter fell honourably on the field of battle. I recall these facts with pride and satisfaction on the present occasion. The distinguished company I have now the honour of addressing, are all deeply interested in the prosperity of the Drama. Those amongst us who are not actors, are equally well versed with ourselves in the history of the stage, and as fully impressed as we are with the difficulties that have lately impeded its progress, and somewhat obscured its brilliancy ; but a star of light has arisen on the darkened horizon of our prospects, and I hope I am not too sanguine when I hail it as the harbinger of a steady and improving sunshine. 1 allude to the late series of performances at Windsor Castle, by command of Her Majesty and His Koyal Highness Prince Albert. (Loud cheers.) We all owe a deep debt of gratitude for the honour thus conferred upon us, and for the advantages we have thereby gained. By selecting the drama for their hours of private relax- ation, by introducing it into the chosen circle of their domestic privacy, by permitting the royal children, in their earliest budding youth, to become familiar with the magic verse of Shakespeare, her Majesty and her royal consort have stamped an importance and impressed a sterling value on the stage, that will be long felt and most thankfully appreciated. Covered by the protecting shield of royal favour, assisted by the powerful influence and commanding prestige of royal taste, and heralded, as I may say, by a patent of precedency, our art and its professors resume their position with increasing hopes and redoubled energy." On the 30th of March, 1849, the widow of Edmund Kean died at Keydell, near Horndeau, in Hampshire, OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 353 the coimtiy residence of her son, on a small estate he had purchased in 1844, and where she found a happy etreat during the closing years of her chequered and eventful existence. The history of the elder Mrs. Kean presents us with a moral lesson of the deepest interest, a subject for salutary reflection, and a special instance of the varied dispensations of Providence. During the ;arly years of her married life, she struggled with many jrivations, and drained the cup of poverty to its bitterest Iregs. Then came the episode of London success, with dl its unlooked-for luxury and ruinous profusion. After hat followed the unprovoked desertion of her husband, he combined evils of broken health and vanished hopes, vith disease, neglect, and destitution, more pungently It from an interval of prosperity ; until finally raised gain by the filial piety and untiring exertions of her n, she passed the evening of her days surrounded by 11 the comforts of affluence, and all the soothing cares the fondest affection. Her remains lie in the church - ard of Catherington, a secluded hamlet, not far from ^ydell, where she ended her days. The following scription may be read upon her tomb : — " NATIVE OF WATERFORD. IN MEMORY OF MARY, RELICT OF THE LATE EDMUND KEAN, S WHO DEPARTED THIS LIFE ^ MARCH 30, 1849, IN OR ABOUT THE SEVENTIETH TEAR OF HER AGE. " Flights of angels sing thee to thy rest." THIS TOMB WAS ERECTED BY HER AFFECTIONATE SON, CHARLES JOHN KEAN." ; On the 21st of May, 1849, Charles Kean presided at ■ e fourth anniversary dinner of the General Theatrical .and (to which we have previously alluded). It was the 1st time he had ever been called on to discharge the uties of chairman at a public dinner. The situation VOL. I. A A 354 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES was difficult as well as novel, but he acquitted himself with much ability, and spoke with pathos and effect. The attendance and contributions considerably exceeded those on any of the preceding occasions. He had from the beginning been an annual contributor to this excellent institution, which well deserves the increasing support it appears to receive. The honour of instituting theatrical funds belongs to Thomas Hull, for several years stage manager at Covent Garden, until declining strength compelled him to resign the duties of that troublesome and tliankless office to Mr. Lewis. He was highly respectable both as an author and actor ; in the former character more par- ticularly, and ranks with the patriarchs of the stage,: having played up to 1808, being then in his seventy-' eighth year. But he has a higher claim on the con-' sideration of all who feel an interest in the dramatic artj as being the founder of the Covent Garden Fund for the support of decayed actors, the oldest establish- ment of the kind in the kingdom, which has giver; comfort to many who during their best years contrii buted to the solace and amusement of others, and hai; cheered the desolateness of old age with the certaint}. of an adequate subsistence. Too much honour canno be paid to those who have been the means of carrying into effect such permanent benevolence. The case c Mrs. Hamilton, in 1762, who had filled a position c importance at Covent Garden, but then reduced to sue' distress as to depend entu-ely on the contributions c her professional fraternity, alarmed the whole body c actors. Hull was the fii-st who conceived and brougl to bear a rational project for a substantial remedy again; this evil to which all were exposed. To promote tl: common end, he addressed the performers of Covei Garden in a printed circular, in which, after showin OF CHAKLES KEAN, F.S.A. 355 the necessity of some mode of provision, he stated several reasonable propositions as the foundation of his plan. Sixpence in the pound was named as a weekly subscription out of the respective salaries. His address produced an immediate effect ; a collection was set forward at once, under the joint efforts of himself and Mattocks, who became also a strenuous promoter of fhe scheme. They were most liberally assisted by he patronage of Beard and Rich, the then pro- prietors of Covent Garden. Gibson, an actor of that theatre, was, at his death^ a large contributor, divid- "ng his accumulated savings of 8000/. between the fund and the poor of Liverpool, where he was buried, te md had for many years managed a summer theatre. Cumberland and Mrs. Donaldson were likewise liberal jenefactors. During the first six years, or there- ibouts, the fund received considerable augmentation )y the profits of annual benefits ; but under the elder !3olraan's management, these benefits were stopped, md never afterwards regularly resumed. To them suc- ;eeded dinners, at which the chair was generally filled )y a member of the royal family, or a nobleman of the ighest rank. At these charitable festivities, the col- ij (asfcetions frequently exceeded 1,000Z. The fund grew ,.(.jiiji apidly, and in 1776, received the sanction of an Act f Parliament, the subscribers being thereby declared a lody corporate. The Covent Garden Fund was first proposed while arrick was travelling on the Continent, with the lOuble object of recruiting his health, and of stimulating absence, his somewhat ebbing attraction. The " Box ook fever," as it is technically called, was supposed to be is principal complaint. It is a well-known fact, tested by the books, that, before his departure, he ayed his most popular parts to receipts falling under A A 2 356 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES 20Z. On one occasion, although supported by ]Mr. Gibber, to less than 61. This may appear incredible, but it is nevertheless time. Those "palmy days" of the drama were not all to be marked by a white stone. On Garrick's return home, he felt exceedingly angry; and mortified that a movement of such importance as the establishment of a fund should have been carried on without the least communication with him, who, as; the head of his profession, and as manager and joint, patentee of Druiy Lane, might reasonably have ex- pected to have been consulted. But out of evil came; good, and two charitable institutions were created in- stead of one. Garrick, naturally benevolent, was easily pacified by the excuses which were made to appease him, and with his partner Lacy, in 1766, very heartily concurred to set on foot a similar fund at Drury Lane, They were unanimously seconded by their company with the exception of Mr. and ]Mrs. Yates,* who were not ashamed to assign the selfish, short-sighted reason foi. non-cooperation, that they should never want its assist- ance ! The Drury Lane managers contributed a large sum at the first onset, and gave an annual benefit f the new fund while the patent remained in their hand- On these occasions, Garrick rendered essential service by acting himself. In January, 1776, he paid th expenses of an Act of Parliament, for the legal estah * ]\Irs. Yates ^as the immediate predecessor of jMrs. Siddons, an by some ardent admirers supposed to exceed her in certain character: Yates, her husband, stood high as a comedian ; but he had a defectiv memory, for wliich he fell under the lash of Churchill. He lived up t ninety, and may be included in the list of eccentrics who have jested whe dying. The day before his decease, he complained to a friend that b had been extremely ill-used by the managers of Dniry Lane, who denie him an order! " That was mikind indeed to an old ser\-ant," rejoine the friend. " Yes," replied the dying comedian, " particularly whe my admission could have kept no living soul out of the house ; for only requested an order to be buried mider the centre of the stag' and they were hard-hearted enough to refuse me." OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 357 "mii crtateil lishment (as at the rival house), and it has been com- puted, that bj various donations and bequests, as well as by performing annually capital parts, he personally gained to this institution near 4,500/. The proceeds of T'l^"?! his last appearance, on the 10th of June, 1776, were banded over to it without deduction. But the funds jf Drmy Lane and Covent Garden are subject to •• ™ii many restrictions, and hemmed in by difficulties, arising andjoii from the misfortunes which have fallen on what were )nce the two great national theatres. No one could vilciij)e a member or a claimant unless he or she had erved a given number of seasons in companies which Taseasiliio longer existed. The stock increases, but those who A' appcj done can demand its relief are rapidly verging to :yW ;xtinction. These and other considerations have led to !>niryLas he establishment of a "General Theatrical Fund," inipaii tpen to every member of the profession throughout the ' wk m mpire, who chooses to become a subscriber, and fulfils ir«ai he regulations of this noble institution, which sprang riiL^as'i ato existence in 1839. Her most gracious Majesty is Kiak le Patroness, and annually contributes 100/. ,i toefit The theatrical funds reflect great and lasting credit bii Q the actors with whom they originated. Every true ^r.tiil sen )ver of the drama must say of such laudable under- \i mi ikings (and of similar ones in the provincial theatres), ,, VtjI esii lay they flourish in perpetuity, and may the shadows \[\ sidoii, U f their founders increase. Formerly, the managers of le funds sought for a name of high rank and aristo- ratic influence to fill the chair at their anniversary inners. With the latest institution of the three, the ,„.„. ift of oratory has been held in higher estimation, l^'*j"J hey judged that their cause would be better advanced y a rex convivii who could plead while he presided, id could touch the feelings while he aimed at the Dckets of the company. With this object they have ught for such presidents as Charles Dickens, Sir E. 358 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TOIES Lytton Bulwer, Macready, Charles Kean, Wdbster^ Buckstone, and Phelps. On the fourth annual meeting, Charles Kean detailed the purposes and condition of the fund, at full length, as we find in the following published report of the proceedings on that day : — " Gentlemen, — In the order of toasts as I am in- structed to propose them, I now arrive at that which brings immediately before us the object of the present meeting. The cause entrusted to my feeble advocacy is one so interesting in itself, so all-important to tlu numerous parties wliose welfare it embraces, appealing so exclusively to the kindliest feelings of our nature and at the same time so dependent on the power o weakness of its intercessor, that I shrink embarrassed under the consciousness of my own inability. (Cheers. I feel myself unequal to the task of carrying up thi noble argument to its full vindication, and regret tli?, it has not devolved on one (and such could easily hav been found) more experienced in the duties of a chaii man, — on one less accustomed to repeat exclusively tl) thoughts of others, — on one more gifted with the grac of speech, and endowed with that captivating eloquenc which enchains the reason, wins the heart, and contro the sympathies. (Loud cheers.) I stand before you ; the advocate of Christian charity, of simple, pu: benevolence ; as counsel for the old, the indigent, ar helpless members of our profession. Your own generoi feelings will supply my deficiencies, and plead for n: clients more gracefully and effectually than any effo of mine, even though I were inspired for the occasio as 1 would I were, with a power of utterance — " Great and commanding as the breath of kings, Sweet as the poet's numbers, and prevailing As soft persuasion." (Cheers.) -' OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 359 1. Wel)!tt; " At the three annual festivals which have preceded this, the origin, nature, and object of this institution -■aniletaile li^ve been amply detailed. Its peculiar and most valuable fdl btrti feature of universal association — (cheers) — unrestricted ?'rt oftl ^7 ^g® o^ special service in any particular establishment, has been already explained by the gifted gentlemen vlani] ^^^ presided on those occasions. (Loud cheers.) In Mjatwiic the absence of Mr. Buckstone (the honorary treasurer), 'y.m\ who is unavoidably detained at the Haymarket Theatre, V a^Tocat *^® present condition and prospects of the fund will be ^jjt to t! laid before you by your zealous secretary, Mr. Cullen- :. jr,5fjii, ford. (Cheers.) I will not intrude on his province ' n/jaiB, further than by remarking, which I do with earnest :, pri^jji satisfaction, that his statement will show you the pro- ""Mss? g^sss is steady, and the prospect cheering. But there ^ Cljjjj are still two or three leading points, not connected with yr.^ J. ii these details, to which I will venture to call your attention I ^™( ij for a few passing moments ; and, if I can put forth a sin- j Jij^jjj gle plea in aid of those already pressed upon your notice, .^; "y or, if I can excite an additional throb of sympathy in a ,,i„;;„u single bosom, the time will not be wholly consumed in . .; .L. _ vain, and you ^^dll pardon the tediousness I inflict on you, for the motive by which it has been occasioned. (Cheers.) I L " The advantages of a national drama, its influence on the civilisation, the morals, the manners, the habits, and, I may say, the happiness of men, is so generally felt and admitted, save by those whose minds are clouded by the mists of prejudice — and with such we deal not — (cheers) — that I may be allowed to look upon and name it as a proved fact and admitted principle. Look- ing, therefore, to the means of upholding and invigor- ating this valuable institution, I hail the establishment of a General Theatrical Fund, open alike to the mera- jbers of every theatre, and the professors of every branch of this most complicated art, as a valuable auxiliary, a kforeyoi simple, [ -'d for .13 any t ;tlieoc» ace- 360 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES steady prop, a solid buttress of support ; giving to and deriving' from the parent edifice an increase of strength and power, elevating both art and artist in the scale of respectability, and affording to the latter a haven of refuge when age and infirmities admonish him that — " Time steals on, and higher duties crave Some space between the theatre and grave." " The present position of the two great houses of Covent Garden and Drury Lane — those splendid struc- tures so long and fondly designated as the legitimate tem- ples of Shakespeare and the British Drama, so associated with all that is grand, and classical, and ennobling in the art, so inseparably connected with the brightest names that shed lustre on its annals ; the strange uses to which they are perverted ; * the long and apparently intermin- able eclipse by which they are obscured — these circum- stances engender feelings of regret in all, and despon- dency in many. (Cheers.) In the regret I cordially participate, but I am not amongst the despondent. (Loud cheers.) The prospects of the drama may be darkened by a passing cloud, but I cannot feel that they are extinguished, even though the great houses should never again resume their ancient ascendency. (Cheers.) The tide of fashion, ever varying in its capricious course, may run for a season too strongly in favour of the exotic ballet, the gorgeous spectacle, or the imported opera; but Shakespeare still maintains his hold on the hearts of his countrymen, and will stand pre-eminent on his time- honoured pedestal as long as truth and nature hold their sway, and men can feel the power of language and the grace of action. (Enthusiastic cheers.) I hope, and think, that good days are in store for us, and, as the * The one, at tliat time, was an Italian Opera House ; the other, au arena for ecpiestriau exercises. y OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 361 ] to ii JtieDgil : scale (i tiiat- ■1 nams I'jwliijl iiitemiis number of actors will increase with the increasing pros- perity of the stage, so will the necessity and advantage of a well established and liberally endowed general theatri- cal fund impress itself forcibly on all convictions. I trust we shall make a giant's stride to-day in advance of our object. (Cheers.) The report of our proceedings, the augmentation of the invested property, the amount of our collection here, will give an impulse to opinion 1"^^ '^without, draw to us the support of strangers, and the favour of the general public. I trust, by steady per- severance, to see this comparatively private effort expand into a national institution. (Cheers.) In the long struggle of professional life, and more particularly in the actor's life, distinction and indepen- dence are achieved only by the fortunate few, while the laborious but deserving many toil on in the ranks, earn- ■eiponiei Thespis are universally thoughtless and improvident. uniayl There are many who have never had the opportunity of jltlw'tl" laying in store. Amongst the intellectual avocations, ours KS skill has attached to it some melancholy peculiarities. Bril- iCl« [iant and captivating as the actor's triumphs may ap- !«« pear, they are as perishing as the applause by which lllieexfl they are accompanied. The poet, the painter, and the rtedopti sculptor leave behind them lasting memorials of their ':'' hrti^reative genius, in the living page, the glowing canvas, and the enduring marble. The actor's brightest achieve- nent dies with himself, or survives but in the fading •ecords of imperfect tradition. (Loud cheers.) By ceaseless study and long experience only can he hope to naster the difficulties of his art; and before his mental 'acuities have attained their full meridian, his physical lowers are on the decline, and warn him that he can no 362 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES longer execute his own conceptions. He must leave the field to younger candidates, and retire into solitude and oblivion ; too often with but little to console him in the remembrance of the past, no comfort in the privations of the present, and scarcely a ray of hope from the dark- ness of the future. (Cheers.) A great moralist, Dr. Johnson, tells us, and truly, that " Youth is the season of enjoyment ; the utmost that age can look for is ease." Aye, gentlemen — but let us contemplate age without ease — age with its natural accompaniments of disease and pain, and decaying faculties ; age without the affection- ate hand to smoothe the pillow or the consoling voice to assuage the anguish ; age, bowed down by penury and indigence, with cultivated mind, polished manners, and habits of refinement, linked to squalid beggary, racked by the agonizing doubt tliat the scanty pittance of to-day may cease to be forthcoming to-morrow — (hear, hear) — aye, that even the dismantled garret may not yet be exchanged for the still more loathsome poor-house. (Cheers.) This, though a harrowing picture, is no crea- tion of the fancy, but a stern reality, too often exemplified in the fate of the superannuated actor, whose only refuge from such complicated misery is a nameless grave. " Let us endeavour to reverse the gloomy picture. Be it our task to step in between our aged brethren and their prostrate helplessness ; to restore hope to the de- spairing heart ; to substitute contentment for repining, and competence for destitution. (Cheers.) To efi'ect this, we must press forward the growth of this fund with active zeal and untiring energy. Let us set an example of liberality in our own contributions to foster and enkindle liberality in others. (Cheers.) In such a cause the smallest offering has its full weight and value- Individual efforts, though weak in themselves, produce collective strength, and as the union of labour speedily OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 363 raises a stately edifice, so the combination of many small suras soon amasses a mighty capital. This insti- tution may yet be considered in its infancy, and already there are five annuitants dependent on its resources and secured from want. Like the disbanded soldier on his pension, they rest from toil in humble but honourable retirement. (Loud cheers.) There are many more hands extended to us in supplication, many other voices sounding plaintively in our ears. They have powerful claims and we are bound to entertain them. Whatever may be the faults and professional jealousies of actors, (and from what profession or what pursuit in life are jealousies excluded?) — (hear, hear) — they are ever found ready to assist their poorer brethren. (Cheers.) Those who are now dependent, while they had means them- selves, and the appeal was made, gave cheerfully. In their own hour of need let us remember this, and cheer- fully requite them. (Cheers.) We cannot, it is true, bring back the manly vigour or restore the faded loveli- ness; we cannot check the unsparing scythe of time, call up again the form that delighted the eye, the voice that charmed the ear, or the thrilling energy that com- manded the applause — (cheers) ; — but we can make glad the spirits that are now depressed in sorrow ; we can repay them something for the many hours of recreation that soften the corroding cares of life ; we can give peace and calm repose where there is doubt, and gloom, and poverty; we can cause the flush of joy once again to mantle on the pale cheek from which it appeared to be for ever banished. Above all, let us remember that in thus establishing an asylum for the worn out members of the stage, we advance the importance of the stage itself — (cheers) ; — and while we advocate the purest doc- trine of Christian charity, we give new strength and value to the noble science we study to illustrate, and 364 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES which the poet of Hope thus beautifully eulogises in reference to one of its most stately ornaments : * His* was the spell o'er hearts Which only Acting lends ; The youngest of the sister arts, Where all their beauty blends. For ill can Poetry express Full many a tone of thought sublime ; And Painting, mute and motionless, Steals but a glance from time. But by the mighty Actor brought, , Illusion's perfect triumphs come ; Verse ceases to be aiiy thought. And Sculptui-e to be dumb ! ' " During the seasons of 1848-9, and 1849-50, Charles ; Kean departed from the plan he had hitherto adopted ! in his London engagements of making occasional visits at stated intervals only, and accepted a permanent situ- ■ ation with ]\Ir. Webster at the Haymarket Theatre. I In this determination he was principally influenced by ' family considerations ; the declining health of his mother, which made him unwilling to leave her for any ; lengthened period, and a desire to superintend the early ; education of his daughter and only child, then in her ' sixth and seventh years. At the commencement of : 1849, " Othello " was brought forward, when Charles i Kean personated the Moor and lago, alternately with 1 James Wallack ; Creswick being Cassia, "Wigan, Bode- rigo, Mrs. C. Kean, Emilia, and Miss Laura Addison, Desdemona. On the 20th of June, during the same season, [ Mr. Westland Marston's " Strathmore " was performed: ' a play abounding in poetic beauty and worked up at the close with intense interest and effect ; in our humble ' opinion, by far the best acting drama which the talented ' writer has yet produced. The London attraction of " Strathmore," was somewhat weakened by the lateness of the season and the extreme heat of the weather. In Jolm Kemble. OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A, 365 Dublin and Cork it met with deserved success. ]\[r. and Mrs. C. Kean were again, in this instance, fortunate in original parts of great power and passion, in which they carried out to full reality the author's conception, and added materially to their own established fame. In ]\Iarch, 1850, they concluded their engagements at the Haymarket. On the occasion of their last benetit, the Queen a' second time honoured them with her pre- sence and special patronage. The play selected was " Much Ado about Nothing ;" they appeared as Benedick and Beatrice, characters in which they had won much reputation throughout the season. On the 12th of July, 1850, the veteran mother of the stage, Mrs. Glover, took her farewell benefit at Drury Lane, under the patronage of her Majesty. The bill consisted of the " Rivals," with the farces of " Delicate Ground" and "Friend Wraggles," supported in all the principal parts by volunteer members of the leading theatres. William Farren and Madame Vestris were prominent in the list. The time-worn actress had been confined to her bed for a fortnight previous to the ap- pointed time, and considerable apprehensions existed that she would be unable to present herself on this the closing, as also the most interesting scene in her long professional life. But strong determination can some- times obtain a momentary victory over physical weak- , ness, and so it proved on the present memorable occasion. j She repaired to the theatre, went through the part of I Mrs. Malaprop, with debility visibly increasing at every moment, but was unable to utter the few words of fare- I well which had been announced to the public. When jthe curtain rose again, after the conclusion of the comedy, Mrs. Glover was discovered seated in a chair surrounded Iby her professional brethren and sisters. She bowed to the crowded audience in silent but expressive acknow- ledgment, and was carried from the theatre to the bed 366 THE LIFE AXD THEATKICAL TIMES from whence she rose no more in life. On Tuesday, the ' 16th of Jul J, her death vrsiS announced, and within one short week from her last appearance in public, a grave in the churchyard of St. George's, Bloomshuiy, covered | her remains. It was a sudden close to a long career. \ In early life, Mrs. Glover was eminent for personal J beauty, both in face and figm-e ; but as the latter ex- 1 panded into rotundity with advancing time, she relin- i quished the juvenile heroines before her personal attri-j butes unfitted her to represent them. She had not the idle j vanity of wishing to retain Juliet for forty years, but' subsided in due com-se into the Xurse, with the 3I/'s.\ Heidelhergs, Candours, and Malaprojjs. Histrionic- ladies in general fall into a gTeat mistake, from a| natural disinclination to adopt the old women^ until' they are actually old. There is no line on the stage; that requires more vigour than the simulation of the} passions and humours of age. ' Mrs. Glover, when she died, was in her seventy second: year, having been born at Xewry, in Ireland, on the; 8th of January, 1779. She had been fifty-three year?! a London actress. Her first appearance at CovenV Garden took place on the 12th of October, 1797. She; was then Miss Julia Betterton, and scarcely in the firs' bloom of womanhood. Her selected ti-ial part wa.', Elici'na, in Hannah More's long-interred tragedy o' "Percy;" of which Hazlitt says, on its second ex' humation twenty-eight years later, " we never can for' sive Hannah ]\Iore for makina; us feel that Miss O'Xeil could be tedious," j The authoress of this same "Percy" composed twil other tragedies, "Fatal Falsehood," and the " Inflexibb Captive." In her youth she was an enthusiastic ad mirer of Garrick, and a constant visitor at his house. A she progressed in life she became serious and thought ful, and her early opinions changed. She convince OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 3G7 herself tliat tlie stage was an irreligious business in its very essence, and wrote an essay to that effect, which she prefixed to a republication of her tragedies. She was sincere, no doubt, according to her convictions ; but to have been consistent, and to have obtained weight for her arguments, she should have put forth the essay alone, and withdrawn the tragedies. A little of the vanity of authorship prevailed, and she was thus driven to maintain that a play might be a lawful recreation in the closet, but a very criminal indulgence when acted ; a refinement of casuistry scarcely intelligible, and which amounts to saying that things are not to be applied to ktivAi ^^^ purposes for which they are intended. If anything, no matter what, is good in itself, that which sets forth its qualities in the strongest light is best. If it be bad, away with it altogether, as equally unfit to see or read. All professed writers against the stage endeavour to set up general rules, founded, however, on exceptive cases. But if we test these rules by general application, — and there is no other way of proving their value fairly, — we shall find that, from the beginning to the end, from Stephen Gosson, Prynne, and Collier, down to Hannah More, Styles, Best of Sheffield, and Close of Carlisle, inclusive, they are based on fallacy. A Eoman satirist says, " Totus mundus exerceat his- trionem." * Everybody follows the trade of acting; or, as Shakespeare more beautifully amplifies the thought, — " All the world 's a stage. And all the men and women, merely players." This sentence, forming, perhaps, the truest and most comprehensive apology for the theatre, suggests the following paraphrase : — " Oh, Inconsistency, aU mankind are thy disciples ! " * Tit. Petron. Arb. Satyree, p. 521 Ed. 1669. These words were affixed as a motto to the Globe Theatre in Shakespeare's tune. trom en, m' :ie sta; a of ;: i 368 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES When Miss Betterton adopted the stage as her pro- fession, she found in the Covent Garden company, acting with her from night to night, as models to study from, Mrs. Crawford, Mrs. Abington, Mrs. Litchfield, J\Irs. Davenport, Mrs. Gibbs, Mrs, Mattocks, and Mrs. Martyr. Where, in the present day, could a young beginner look for such a galaxy of talent, on which to found an incipient style? In a school like that, if there was ability, excellence was sure to be achieved. When the rising acti-ess had scarcely entered on her twentieth year, the control of a tyrannical father com- pelled her to a distasteful marriage, and she became Mrs. Glover, under which name, for half a century, she won and maintained her high position in the estimation of the public. For many years she had to struggle with domestic difficulties, arising from the extravagance and persecution of a neglectful husband, tlie maintenance of a numerous family, and the support of a parent who had not discharged his duties as faithfully as she per- formed hers by supporting him in aged destitution. Assuredly, Mrs. Glover has left no duplicate behind her ; no, not even the shadow of a double, amongst her still-living contemporaries. That any of her most re- nowned predecessors, including Miss Pope and Mrs. Mattocks, excelled her, we may reasonably doubt. Her acting, in her peculiar line, was perfection. The most prominent features were, a nice discrimination of cha- racter, a rich vein of comic humour, more in the do- mestic than in the refined or romantic cast, joined to a constitutional buoyancy and energy which suffered no diminution under the inroads of time. END OF VOL. I. R. CLAY, PRINTER, BREAD STREET HILL. LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. INCLUDING A SUilMAfiy OF niE ENGLISH STAGE FOR THE LAST FIFTY YEARS. BY JOHN WILLIAM COLE. ' Orator ad vos venio ornatu prologi : Sinite exorator ut sim. — Quia sciebani dubiani fortunam esse scenicani, Spe incerta certuin ruihi latiorem sustuli.' — Terentii Hlcyrj IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. 11. ;stk n J lei! of til tkJ HEC N I) EDIT 1 N. LONDON : ilCHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET, ^uWisIjtr ill (DrbiuanT to |jcr IHajtstn. 1859. [The right of travdalion U rcscncd.] LOXDON : ?. CLAY. PRINTEU, r.KEAD STREET HII.l CONTENTS TO VOL. II. CHAPTER I. Charles Kean enters on the Management of the Princess's Theatre in Partnership with Mr. Keelc}- — " Twelfth Night " the Open- ing Play— The Great Exhibition of 1851— Its Success and Ob- jects — London Inundated with Foreigners — Opinion of the French on English Character and Habits — Distinction between French and English Dramatists — The Theatres Crowded nightly throughout the Summer — Company engaged at the Princess's Theatre— Old Pieces revived — New Pieces produced — The "Gamester" on Mr. and Mrs. C. Kean's Benefit Night — Eemarks on the Moral Tendency of the Play and the Lesson it Inculcates— Conclusion of the Season — Its great Success— Re- tirement of Mr. Macready — His Farewell Benefit and Parting Address at Drury Lane — Short Summary of his Career — The Conspiracy against him in America . CHAPTER IL The Princess's Theatre under the sole Management of Mr. Charles Kean — The Season commences with the "ilerry AVives of Windsor"— Cast of the Comedy — Critical Observations — " King John," the first great Historical Revival — Mrs. Siddons' Reflec- tions on the Character of Constcmce— The " Corsican Brothers " —Many Versions and Burlesques of the latter — Its great Attrac- tions at the Princess's- Supernatural Agency — Well-authenti- cated Ghost Stories— Mademoiselle Clairon's Disembodied Per- secutor—Tender Precautions— Our Clerks— The Easter Specta- cle, " Wittikind and his Brothers "—Mr. Lovell's Play of the " Trial of Love "—The Phantasm of the Vampire— The Panto- mime of "Betty Taylor"— Close of the Season on the 14th of Jul}'— Number of Pieces performed— General Result , . . . IV CONTENTS. CHAPTER III. PAr.r. Mr. C. Kean's third Season at the Princess's — The Prima Donna — Melodrama of " Mont St. Michel" — Engagement and First Ap- pearance of filr. Wright — Mr. Westland Marston's Play of "Anne Blake" — Retirement of Mr. Bartlej" — Pantomime of "Cherrj- and Fair Sta.r" — Mr. Douglas Jerrold's Comedy of "St. Cupid, or Dorothy's Fortune "' — Revival of "Macbeth" — " Fly Leaf" — General Remarks on the Play as now represented — Easter Spectacle of " JIarco Spada " — Revival of Lord Byron's " Sardanapalus " — " Fly Leaf" — Burlesques— Unfairness of the Practice — Mr. T. P. Cooke at the Princess's — Close of the Season - 40 CHAPTER IV. Correspondence between Mr. Charles Kean and Mr. Douglas Jerrold — Mr. Blanchard Jerrold's Statement in his Father's Life — Reasons for publishing the Letters — Their Tendency and Result — Incidental Observations CHAPTER V. Fourth Season of Mr. C. Kean's Management at the Princess's — "Sardanapalus" continued with unceasing Attraction —Sheri- dan's Comedy of the " Rivals" — The ' ' Lancers," adapted from the French, by Captain L. Vernon, M.P. — "A Modern Fashionable Drawing-room" — Article in a Weekly Paper, on the Windsor Theatricals— Statements answered — Large Sums paid for origi- nal Dramas — Long and serious Illness of ilrs. C. Kean — Panto- mime of the "Miller and his Men'' — Revival of "King Richard HI." — CoUey Cibber's Altei-ations— Great Difference of Opinion on this Point — Reasons for adopting the altered Play — Result not Satisfactorj-^ — Supposed Causes —" Married Unmarried" — "Away with Melancholy " and " A Storm in a Tea-cup " — Magical Drama of " Faust and Marguerite " — Mr. C. Kean's Mephistopheles—" From. Village to Court" — The "Courier of Lyons" produced for Mr. Kean's Benefit — His Performance in the double Characters of Lesurgue^ and Dubosc — Clo.se of the Season — Number of Pieces performed — Jlelo- drama and high Tragedy 9i CONTENTS. CHAPTER VI. Delayed Commencement of the Fifth Season at the Princess's — Cholera in London — Sudden Illness and Death of Mrs. Fitzwil- liam— Death of Mrs. Warner — " Living too Fast"^ — Mr. Douglas .Terrold's Play of the " Heart of Gold "—Comparative Failure- Spectacle of " Schamyl, the Circassian Hero " — Pantomime of "Blue Beard" — Casimir de la Vigne's "Louis the Eleventh," adapted by IMr. Dion BourcicauU — Great Success of the Play — Extraordinary Impression made by Mr. C. Kean in the Character of the King — Critical Analysis — The Author, the Actor, and the Play — Complimentary Letters to Mr. C. Kean CHAPTER VII. . " Game of Romps" — The " Muleteer of Toledo" — "How Stout You're Getting" — Revival of Shakespeare's " King Henry the Eighth," and Return of Mrs. C. Kean to the Stage— Critical Remarks on the Play and Performance— Garrick and Kemble's Alterations of Shakespeare— Mr. C. 'K.e^n'& Cardinal Wolsey ; Mrs. C. Kean's Qneen A'aPENING PLAT THE GREAT EXHIBITION OF 1851 — ITS SUCCESS AND IBJECTS — LONDON INUNDATED WITH FOREIGNERS — OPINION OF THE RENCH ON ENGLISH CHARACTER AND HABITS — DISTINCTION BETWEEN 'BENCH AND ENGLISH DRAMATISTS — THE THEATRES CROWDED NIGHTLY HROUGHOUT THE SUMMER — COMPANY ENGAGED AT THE PRINCESS'S HEATRE — OLD PIECES REVIVED NEW PIECES PRODUCED — ' THE GAME- TER ' ON MR. AND MRS. C. KEAN's BENEFIT NIGHT — REMARKS ON THE ORAL TENDENCY OF THE PLAT AND THE LESSON IT INCULCATES— ONCLUSION OF THE SEASON — ITS GREAT SUCCESS — RETIREMENT OF MACREADY HIS FAREWELL BENEFIT AND PARTING ADDRESS AT KURT LANE — SHORT SUMMART OF HIS CAREER — THE CONSPIRACY GAINST HIM IN AMERICA. [. August, 1850, Charles Kean, in partnership with ^:. Keeley, entered on a lease for two years, of the Pucess's Theatre, in Oxford Street, and for the first ije embarked on the " stormy sea " of management. Iji Keans and the Keeleys formed a rich coalition of F ' OL. II. B THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES I diversified talent. The progressive events of tlieir experiment were watched with unusual interest, howbeit they had fallen on evil days, and their net was cast in troubled waters. Much was wanting to revive public taste and restore the stage, generally supposed to be on the decline, to its former elevation. Mr. Phelps had already raised the standard of legitimacy at Sadler's Wells, and was making a manly stand ; but his scene of action was far east, and too much circumscribed by its locality to divert into unwonted channels the anta-, gonistic tide of fashion. It was felt by all the ardent partisans of our national drama, that unless some com- pelling force could be applied to counterbalance th( thousand and one causes which pressed heavily on iti vitality, the most intellectual of all recreations stood ii danger of being numbered with the things that were and the art and its professors might calculate the hou, when both should lie down peaceably together, inscrib; ing over their common sepulchre — " Fuimus Troes, fu' Ilium, et ingens gloria Teucrorum." Many of Charles Kean's friends trembled when the saw that he had determined to risk in the uncertai issue of managerial speculation the fame and fortur which he had toiled to establish by persevering industi from youth to mature manhood. But a favouring pp sentiment accompanied his name, with a strong inipre sion that the star of his destiny, hitherto so brig! would still continue in the ascendant. He had mar; and high qualifications for his new work, backed 1 sound experience. Much reliance was placed on I, acknowledged abilities, joined with those of his accoii plished lady, their estimation in general society, a.; irreproachable characters. His known liberality too his dealings with authors was expected to give impetus to theatrical literature. He had already pj ^ OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 3 \ second 400?. to the author of the " Wife's Secret," for mother play, and was in treaty with several of the eading English dramatists to employ their pens in a dmilar task. If the genius of Sheridan Knowles slum- )ered on its laurels and could not be awakened, there vere younger disciples of the same school who might Lspire to till his vacant place. In addition to these and >ther prospects on the favourable side, Charles Kean and lis clever coadjutor were backed by a potent ally — apital ; without which reserve, talent and resolution 'ave often been swallowed up and exhausted in the acrifices necessary to ensure victory. What Monte- (uculi said of war is quite as applicable to theatrical .•^nlyoalhanagement. The three most essential ingredients of ccess are money, money, money ! The first season under the new dynasty, at the 'rincess's, commenced on the 28th of September, 1850, ad occupied an uninterrupted period of nearly thirteen tenths; terminating on the 17th of October, 1851, ith the opening play of " Twelfth Night." The net rofit amounted to 7,000?. ; but it was the year of the ikaiiwlkhibition, in Hyde Park, and the result cannot be K jnd im Iken as forming any ground for an average calculation. raiigWill The Great Exhibition of 1851; might well be called tivoiiiiii?!l lie world's wonder, for such in truth it was. The most iJtiODgW Jrfect realization of a magnificent idea that ever entered yito so Ht le mind of man. The scheme of Henri Quatre for a r liah ineral peace coalition throughout Europe was scarcely ore sublime, and evidently not so practicable. The sasures that were brought together in the Crystal Palace, j Hyde Park, exceeded all that imagination could have i;iticipated. No such collection can ever be accu- lulated again, although the shell that contained it Is been surpassed in architectural elegance by its more (jaborate successor at Sydenham. By crossing from b2 ^ that ilatetle rlkr, rjTrofii I 4 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES one department to another, you were as completely in the country designated, as if the carpet of Prince Hous- sein had actually annihilated time and space, and carried you there in a minute. You heard its language, saw the complexion of its people, and investigated its productions. The whole formed a scene of living enchantment, an animated cosmorama, to lose yourself in for a month, without w^eariness, and to think of for ever after. A calculation computed on police returns, estimated the number of visitors to the Crystal Palace, during the six months that it remained open, at seven millions. The total receipt of money considerably exceeded half a million sterling, leaving an available balance of 240,000/. The only way of seeing the Exhibition thoroughly and with comfort, was by a season-ticket, of which, as a matter of course, none but residents could avail themselves. You thus took your time, divided your visit into sections, and examined everything in^ succession. To-day you were in France, to-morrow inj Austria, the day following in Italy, and the next week! in India. You then crossed an imaginary Atlantic and glanced over Canada and the United States. i On this plan it required three months, at the rate o:; several hours per diem, to become acquainted with al. the marvels that were submitted to view. A countrj family arriving by an excursion train, with a returr ticket, good for a week, and sometimes only for thret. days, could obtain little better than a bird's-eye glance galloping along, catalogue in hand (as Sir Franci:; Head scoured the Pampas), reeking with perspira, tion, and resolved as a point of principle as well a of value received, to toil regularly through the officia list of twenty thousand articles. The predictions of the alarmists were verified to th iittelvi jateJii i livit dofi inrin" t! •dance Exliiliitii OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 5 etter during the summer of 1851. London for several months was occupied by the French, but quite in a 'amilj way, and without disturbing the entente cordiaJe. in Englishman wonders how our continental friends ontrive to live in so expensive a city as London, know- g that they are not usually endowed with a superfluity f the circulating medium. But there they were, and ppeared to enjoy themselves amazingly. You met two Dreigners, as you perambulated the streets, for one estimate ^^^S^^o^^ child of the soil. They were less mysti- «ed by the wonders of the Exhibition than by the )tal absence of soldiers, the order and peaceable de- eanour of the vast multitudes that thronged the loroughfares, and the perfect ease with which a few andred policemen managed everything, without any M pparent effort. These points of home discipline are tterly incomprehensible to strangers, who are accustomed behold in every capital of Em^ope a vast entrenched le, M. -niorrof itlantic fitted imp, bristling with bayonets and artillery, — a powder agazine ready to explode with the slightest ignition. hey saw Queen Victoria go into the heart of the city, the Lord Mayor's fete, and return through countless .ousands in the middle of the night, with a simple escort honour. They saw her pass in all the paraphernalia regal state to prorogue the two houses of Parliament, 11 only with a few policemen to keep the passage , while all London stood in respectful attendance, eering and saluting with unaffected loyalty. Here Jre evidences of a firmly-based monarchy, a paternal vernment, a nation satisfied with their institutions, and eir power of maintaining them, more convincing than "• n triple line of fortifications, and a bivouac of troops iu ery square. The great London Exhibition, which has been fol- ded by many imitations, was not only the best, but itk tetlffitl Aco' thai ilyfoi Sir B eisfiV 6 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES had the advantage of being the first. Amongst the remarkable features which distinguished this mighty gathering of the nations, may be noticed the little trouble the police had in keeping order, and the small amount of robbery. But where were the croakers who prophesied failure, and the constitutional opposers of everything, who thought (" the wish was father to the thought ") the building would be gutted by a simultaneous rising of all the socialists, chartists, and red republicans in the world, expressly engaged and congregated for that particular i performance ? The impression left on the mind after each successive ' visit to the Crystal Palace, was one of unqualified admi- i ration, mingled with gratitude to the presiding Provi- ■■ dence which crowned this great undertaking with such ' brilliant success. The blessing which was invoked by ' the greatest of earthly sovereigns on the inaugural day had been signally vouchsafed. The six months which followed were pregnant with instruction. Allwashar-: mony, peace, and good-will. A mantle of protection appeared to be thrown round the vast edifice, from the first opening of its doors. All felt they were entering on a scene devoted exclusively to instructive recreation, i where evil passions had no field for their exercise. There was a universal impression that permanent ad-' vantages would result, irrespective of the vast additional sums of money that had been brought into circulatiou,! and the many thousands who were thereby enabled to' obtain employment. It was estimated that, during the summer of 1851, the average population of London had increased to the amount of 300,000 souls. An inter- course sprang up which had no previous existence Foreigners, instead of vague surmises, acquired more po- sitive knowledge of us, our habits, institutions, resources. "'1 iik ■m. i! OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 7 '^P^ii and peculiarities, from ocular observation, in that short fflijlt period of six months, than in the thirty-six years which liti! had previously elapsed since the gates of the Continent tiiesiiii were opened on the fall of Napoleon. We had gone amongst them, but they had come sparingly to us. Many prejudices liave been abandoned, and many mistaken views have given way, which are not likely again to ob- tain influence. Our foreign friends have seen and learned i\ :hat there are better avenues to public prosperity than mnual revolutions erected on barricades, and that a [jartieti government and constitution may be firmly established fsdthout a garrison of a hundred thousand men in the UTO japital to compel obedience. The exhibition of the ihk produce of all countries was an honest peace-offering Ph Tom England to the whole world — a cordial proclama- tb ion of amity, unaccompanied by protocols or remon- Toyi itrances. When the collection began to be dispersed, here ensued much discussion as to the preservation of he building. With many reasons for the retention of rail l5ir Joseph Paxton's magnificent structure, the arguments rotfB Ijn favour of its removal prevailed. It may be considered ffii Ifortunate that they did. Any other course would have re entf! Ipeen an error. It was erected as a temporary depository )r an express purpose, which had been gloriously ac- omplished, and under the implied condition of being ^jj5ii(B)ulled down within a given period. The whole was a great national event ; an epoch in istory ; a period to date from in the chronology of ture annalists. " ' I was in the great battle under the ZyWralls of Moscow ! ' This," said Napoleon to his veterans y8r *^^® morning of Borodino, "will be your proudest ijjBJecollection when reposing from the toils of service." nd often shall we, in the garrulity of old age, repeat to ur grandchildren, "I was in London at the Great Exhibition of 1851, and will tell you of all the marvels 8 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES I saw there." The enormous mass of all that the intel- lect and ingenuity of man could produce of rare and 1| valuable ; the discoveries of industry, the triumphs of art, the improvements of scientific invention, brought together with such cost and labour from the remotest corners of the earth, and arranged with such unparalleled skill, have long been scattered abroad, and have passed into the hands of different purchasers, never to be col- lected again. The daily recurring thousands, whose presence gave life and animated interest to the glowing scene, have subsided back into the sober, plodding tenor of ordinary avocation. The equipages of the royal, the ; noble, and the refined, no longer throng the surrounding avenues. The ceaseless sound of many voices, the strange blending of many foreign languages, have long been succeeded by unbroken silence. What would have been gained had the building still occupied the vast area, an untenanted monument, an empty reminiscence, a casket stripped of the treasures it was constructed to enclose? The historic records, the practical influence on civiliza- tion, the increase of commercial intercourse, are more enduring and more satisfactory memorials of the mighty bazaar, than the Crystal Palace transformed into a winter garden, or a gigantic hippodrome. Devoted to such purposes as these (which were the most favourite propositions for its conversion), it might have been useful and ornamental, but would have ceased to be a con- necting link with the object which called it into exist- ence. It would have resembled the funereal pyramid of Cheops, without the ashes of the founder ; the mausoleum without the relics of the hero it was intended to preseiwe ; or the mere outward case of the watch, divested of its costly and complicated machinery. Better that all should be removed, than that a mutilated skeleton should be retained. There may be something of barbarism, OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 9 but there was grandeur in the obsequies of ALiric, the conquering Ostrogoth. His devoted followers, by the labour of their prisoners, forcibly diverted the course of the Busentinus, near Consentia, erected his sepulchre in the empty bed of the river, piled over his mortal remains the accumulated treasures and memorials of many con- quered nations, including those of Imperial Rome ; and then turned on the stream again to ingulf the monarch and his trophies, that no vestige of either might remain as tangible evidences, after the soul which gave them reality, and power, and substance, had been summoned back to its account. The immortality of the Exhibition was not dependent on the mutation or breaking up of the building in which it had been contained. It rested with the historian, the painter, the engraver, and the conse- quences to be transmitted through succeeding generations. Foreign visitors are invariably struck with the extent and enormous population of London ; with the building- mania that extends on every side, and seems likely to continue until the whole county of Middlesex is covered with brick. But a general impression seems to exist, more especially amongst the French, that England alto- gether, without reference to climate, is un imijs triste — dull country to live in. A Parisian carries the same alfavoiii gay indifference to the " Bourse " with which he enlivens beennsi the drawing-rooms and cotfee-houses. John Bull cannot do this. With him, the Stock Exchange is the serious business of his life. He has no idea of mixing up a laugh, or a trifling anecdote, with monetary calculations. finansok But his mistake is, that he cannot leave his commercial face at home when he mingles in society, or locked up In the desk with his scrip and debentures. He enjoys himself with an effort ; and whether he is dancing, play- ng cards, or enduring music, appears very much as if le was thinking of something else. If you tell him a ;•, ffk ' glora '.mm ..^ k .•; area,i c,a loeack m\] .are tiiemiglli d intJ Devotei tintoesi Ipjraii itopieso' iivesttl Ettertlnl eletOBst) itbarl)iiit I 10 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES joke, he laughs at the end as a matter of duty and politeness, but seldom looks as if he were listening. He has, usually, what the French call Vavr jjreoccupe, and which they consider, not without cause, the very antipodes of relaxation. He cannot give himself up, heart and soul, as they do, to the influence of the mo- ment. This is one leading reason why our national drama — which is always, to a certain extent, a reflex of national character — with more nerve and vigour, has far less ease, variety, and piquancy than that of our volatile neighbours. It is not that our writers are deficient in sparkling wit or broad humour. The comedies of Con- greve, Farquhar, Goldsmith, Sheridan, Colman, Morton, and various living authors, attest the contrary ; but their telling points are mostly got up for the occasion, and worked off with labour ; as professed diners-out prime themselves with their best stories for public display, when they appear all fun and sparkle. But if you catch them at home in undress, they have a look of habitual melancholy, while their gibes and mockeries are as tlireadbare as their dressing-gowns. In fact, we often assume gaiety without any feeling of mirth ; while the French laugh constitutionally at the most solemn matters, as forming a portion of what they please to consider the burlesque of life. Let us be content to keep our gravity, coupled with the national reproach of heaviness, rather than run into the opposite extreme. During the summer of 1851, there were nineteen theatres open in London, exclusive of the two Italian operas and the St. James's, devoted entirely to French tragedy and comedy. This list applies to quasi-legiti- mates only, and has no reference to hippodromes, gar- dens, casinos, Grecian saloons, and the thousand and one iiTegulars which swarmed in every corner of the city and subm-bs, and where dramatic performances, OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 11 Jrm under some form or other, were represented daily and '^W nightl}^. Nearly all reaped an abundant harvest, princi- pally gathered in from the visitors and foreign strangers ; although throughout the month of May there was an alarm of failure, and managerial faces elongated in proportion. But the panic was momentary, and from June onwards a reactionary tide set in, which never ebbed again, but filled the theatrical treasuries, with two or three exceptions, even to overflowing. In Fraser's Magazine for August, 1851 (No. 260), it was stated that the theatres were empty, that the managers had proved themselves bad calculators in expecting they would be filled ; that our dramas were not formed on the models suited to the taste of conti- nental audiences; and that the Exhibition afforded reason enough for " a beggarly account of empty boxes," as neither foreigner nor native could sit out a play on a hot evening after a long day devoted to the wonders of the Crystal Palace. While this was elaborately set forth for the edifica- tion of country readers, nightly facts obtruded them- fiellj selves in direct refutation. All the theatres were so crowded that it was difficult to obtain squeezing room. More than half the plays exhibited mere adaptations or translations from the French ; while at least five-sixths of the audiences were composed of foreigners and holiday excursionists from the country. That the same pieces Avere repeated night after night with little thought of variety, was a tolerable proof of continued attraction, and also that the attraction rested with the strangers. The resident play-goers were compulsively banished by the " hundred and fifty-fourth night of the ' Alhambra,' " the " two hundred and twenty-third of 'King Charming,' " and the " three hundred and thirty-first of ' Green Bushes.' " The company collected for the opening of the . toe m I natoiiil, attflexti '::,liasfii iTTolatil icicieDtij. ,^ of Cot :Vdtt!iai - Rt pM ;c liispk onaderl m tfoltai rtoFta afonMK 12 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Princess's Theatre, in Sept. 1850, included the follow- ing names : Messrs. C. Kean, Keeley, Harley, Bartley, Wigan, Meadows, Ryder, Fisher, King, Bolton, Cath- cart, Addison, Flexmore ; Mesdames, C. Kean, Keeley, Winstanley, Wigan, Daly ; Mesdemoiselles, Phillips, C. Leclercq, Robertson, Murray, M. Keeley, and Des- borongh. During the first season, the Shakespearean plays represented were as follows: — " Hamlet," fourteen tim'^es; "Twelfth Night," forty; "As You Like It," four; the " Merchant of Venice," twelve ; and " Henry the Fourth" (Part I.), twenty-two. The " Wife's Secret," commanded twenty-six repetitions ; the " Gamester," fourteen ; the " Prisoner of War," thirteen ; the " Stranger," seven ; and " Town and Country," four. The principal novelties were, the " Templar," and the " Duke's Wager," by Mr. Slous ; " Love in a Maze," by Mr. Bourcicault ; and a romantic drama in the melo-dramatic line, of a very peculiar character, skilfully adapted from the French, by Mr. John Oxenford, entitled " Pauline." In the latter, the powerful acting of !Mr. and Mrs. C. Kean, in two well contrasted original parts, elicited universal approbation. The situations in this drama are dangerous and revolt- ing. Nothing but the most artistic delineation, regu- lated by good taste, could have rendered them endurable to any English audience. There were also six light farces, namely, "Platonic Attachments/' "A Model of a Wife," " Sent to the Tower," " Betsy Baker," " To Parents and Guardians," and "Apartments to Let;" with the pantomine of " Alonzo the Brave," by Mr. Fitzball, and the burlesque spectacle of the " Alhambra," by Mr. Albert Smith, produced at Easter and continued without interruption to the close of the season. The total number of pieces acted amounted to twenty-seven, of which twelve were entirely new. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S A. 13 In the earlj part of the season, Her Majesty engaged a box, Avhich she has retained annually ever since, and still more satisfactorily marked her approbation of the theatre by constant personal attendance. On the occasion of their benefit, Mr. and Mrs. C. Kean appeared in the '^ Gamester," and " Honey- moon" — the same bill which had been selected ten years before, in Dublin, on the day of their marriage. The performance was received with enthusiasm by a house crowded to the roof, and called forth long articles of encomium from the leading papers. The characters of il/r. and Mrs. Beverley have always been popular with the leading performers of the day. Mr. and Mrs. C. Kean had been accustomed to act their principal parts together for many years during their tours in the principal country theatres, and their later engagements in London. They thus acquired a power of producing combined effects by long study and practice — a perfec- tion of art which strangers cannot reach, who only meet at accidental intervals in professional life, and have no harmony of thought or reciprocal feeling, in concep- tion of character. By constant association, they were enabled to act up to each other with a certainty of perfect co-operation, tending greatly to the advantage of the play represented, which we have often seen marred and weakened by a want of this complete under- standing between the parties on whom the weight and interest almost entirely rest. We can recall no instance in which the value of mutual support more forcibly de- monstrates itself than in the performance of Beverley and Mrs. Beverley by Mr. and Mrs. C. Kean. The most captious critic would have been puzzled to detect an oversight or propose an improvement in their personi- fication of these two characters. Nothing was wanting to the completeness of the picture, and nothing over- 14 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES | looked from the beginning to the end. We were not startled by a momentary flash of brilliancy, followed by half an hour of unexciting tameness. All was sustained, equal, and impressive, with every varying shade of passion justly discriminated. Mrs. C. Kean is peculiarly suited to Mrs. Beverley, uniting with a natural elegance of manner, refined sensibility and unaiFected pathos. Her never varying affection for her husband under all trials, her perfect confidence in his heart not- withstanding the errors of his head, were beautifully por- trayed. In a character so carefully studied by several generations of higlily-gifted actresses, it is not easy to strike out new efiects, or to introduce untried readings. To deviate from what has been done before, merely to avoid comparison or for the temptation of novelty, is not only injudicious, but opens a dangerous avenue to failure. Mrs. C. Kean's conception and execution of this part were consistent with sound taste and judgment. She is neither a copyist nor an unnecessary innovator. Her general style is not formed on any particular model or school, but follows nature, the great teacher and master of all. Her reply to Stukelys insinuations against Beverley's fidelity, contained in the words, " I'll not believe it," was one of the most powerfully original points we ever saw delivered. The whole of the scene with Stukely, and her last interview with Beverley when he is dying in the prison, absorbed the attention of the audience between mingled plaudits and tears, to an extent of which the modern stage affords but few examples. Some amongst the surviving residue of the old play- goers, who exist on reminiscences of the past, and have little sympathy with living pretensions, speak with rapture of the " astounding sensation" produced by Mrs. Siddons in Mrs. Beverley. Nothing, they say, OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 15 could ever approach the manner in which she uttered the simple sentence, *' Mistaken had been kinder;" or her entire scene where she rejects the overtures of Stukely ; or her exclamation in the fifth act to Jarvis, — " 'Tis false, old man," &c. ; or her hysteric laugh, and look of fixed despair, at the death of Beverley. All this may be true to the letter, as to the effect produced, but it ought not to incline us to undervalue the talents of the artists we possess, or lead us to forget that acting was considered more miraculous, was more fashionably followed, and much more fervently applauded, fifty years ago, than it is now. An apathetic chill has damped the spirit of recent audiences, which tames down the fervor and intensity of the most impassioned performers, checks their confidence in themselves, and often para- lyzes their most powerful efforts. Dr. Johnson remarks, with great truth, in his preface to Shakespeare : — " All, perhaps, are more willing to honour past than present excellence ; the great contention of criticism is to find the faults of the moderns and the beauties of t e ancients. While an author is yet living, we estimate his powers by his worst performance, and when he is dead, we rate them by the best." What is here ap- plied to authors only may be readily extended to actors and artists in general. A statue is often raised to the buried merit, which, when alive, was scarcely recog- nized. Not many years since, a short time only before the j revival of the " Gamester" at the Princesses, when it was acted at the Haymarket and other theatres in London, more than one critic in the daily papers volunteered a crusade against the play itself It was called obso- lete, old-fashioned, common-place, vapid, prosy, out of date ; we are not sure that twaddling was not amongst the disparaging epithets. The subject was pronounced 16 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES too exciting ; tlie catastrophe too liarrowing for the feel- ings ; while the weakness of Beverley rendered him too contemptible for sympathy. All this was easily written, had an imposing aspect in print, and may have passed current with hundreds of mere casual readers who are caught by a novel and intrepid assertion, without troubling themselves to inquire through what mode of reasoning it can be proved. To us, the " Gamester ^' has always appeared a moral lesson worthy of the pulpit, a domestic tragedy of the highest order. Simple, powerful, etfective, and probable in the construction of the plot ; clear, intelli- gible, nervous, and pathetic in the dialogue. A leaf from nature's book, applicable to all times, and all countries ; not a page from the registry of any parti- cular manners, or a record of any passing absurdity ; which may command its votaries to-day, and is totally forgotten to-morrow. The characters appear to be ; made for the situations they are placed in, and the in- : cidents develop themselves naturally as if produced by j the characters. } A vice is here held up to detestation, with all its j appalling consequences, more absorbing than any other, which has brought greater desolation to the hearths of families, and has entailed more misery on the descendants of those who have thus immolated themselves on the altar of that destroying Moloch, than human weakness, tyranny, and depravity, have ever produced in any other shape, or through any other agency. As Dr. Young observed, " the fatal prevalence of gaming required such a caustic as the concluding scene of this play presented." The very want of resolution and consistent firmness in Beverley, the readiness with which he falls into the snares of his tempter and evil genius ; those very points which have been somewhat hastily objected to, consti- OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 17 te the strong truth, the reality, the interest, and above 1, the moral warning of the story. Of ten average en, nine are weak in some particular instance. This is ^f '" lC besetting failure of humanity, and this natural weak- often engenders more mischief than positive crime, he absolutely wicked are few in number compared '^ l" ith the victims they entangle, without whom their 3wer for evil would be circumscribed almost to nullity. Jiey would die for lack of sustenance, or be forced to [•ey upon each other, and become extinct for want of jcessary food to keep their restless faculties in action, he moral teacher keeps back the more valuable half of ^^^ ;S lesson if he suppresses the power of bold iniquity in id i )eration on the irresolutely virtuous. As men are con- i" f^ ituted (and who is to change their organization ?), the )siiriitj imber who resist successfully is far exceeded by those ! total] ho sink when strong temptation presents itself. To ■ to li my sympathy to the fallen, is to close the volume of Itkii ir own humanity and to fly to ideal standards which Wl! ase to be instructive because we know them to be titious. We must study man as he is, if we desire or li all ii pect to extract profit from his example, either in folly Qjotta in wisdom, in error or in excellence. eartlisi It was also quite bewildering to be told that the last •■mM sne of any tragedy could be too harrowing or exciting a on til : the taste of an age which positively revelled in the ireakiiB jnstrous exaggerations of French melodrama and anjotl irman metaphysics, the most extravagant flights of )r.Ioiii lich were eagerly acknowledged and hailed with aireisi ^turous evidences of enjoyment. If the most salu- 0sd \:j elements of legitimate tragedy are not impres- immesii ■'•ely embodied in this fine play, we shall really feel jiDtoi ilebted to some more sublimated discoverer who will rfivpiiiil ; lighten us as to where they are to be found and in (oCOiiS i|iat they consist. VOL. II. C 18 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Charles Kean's Beverley was in every respect worth of his gifted associate. It was, perhaps, his very be.' assumption, up to that time, out of the Shakespearea range. His attitude of deep despair, and the expressio of his countenance when first discovered, furnished a index and an unmistakeable prologue to what was : follow. Before the actor had spoken a dozen line the audience penetrated his masterly conception of tl character, and were prepared for all the thrilling inc dents which form the sequel, and rise on each other ; rapid succession. The scene in the gambling-hou, with Stukely, in the third act, after he had ventured ai, lost his last resource, was given with overwhelmii, power. To call it impassioned is to speak faintly. ) was an absolute whirlwind, a sweeping tempest of ag: nized frenzy, bearing down all before it, and produc an effect on the audience which proclaimed its terril reality. His dying struggles in the last scene W(; equally impressive. One of the distinguishing char;> teristics of his style is the identity with which he mai^ i his stage deaths, according to the causes and circu • stances under which they are supposed to take place, cold, calculating observer, who can think and write tl the fate of Beverley excites no commiseration, has ne seen the part embodied by Charles Kean, or has schoo 1 himself into an insensible, iron stoicism, which sets fej- j ing at defiance, laughs at the calamities of life, all(;l,^ Shakespeare says, " makes a pish at chance and suf - ance." We envy not the frigid philosophy or call indifference which could look on such acting, in sue drama, without deriving benefit from the " salutary \ which Dr. Johnson emphatically describes as the and triumph of the tragic muse. Even the cruel tyi it of Plierse wept at a tragedy of Euripides ; and e doubt if any one, however possessed by the passioi jl I i OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 19 ;ay, coiild witness the "Gamester" without a dctcrmi- ition to reform. The partnership between ]\Iessrs. Keeley and Charles ean terminated by mutual arrangement, before the eatre re-opened for the next season. The former, with ^s talented lady, remained members of the company. It the latter was announced as the sole manager. i\.mongst other " memorabilia" which marked the year ^51, we must enumerate the retirement from the stage i William Cliarles Macready, who, during his long ;)udon career of thirty-five years, had always filled a ] eminent, and latterly a commanding situation. He v>nt through a succession of farewell performances at 1e Hay market during the early part of the winter, and, ( the 26th of February, closed with his final benefit at hury Lane, selecting Macbeth for his last appearance. J his parting address, he spoke fervently of the public s« i!|pport which had cheered him through many difficulties, iii^cHi enhanced the happiness of his life. " The lapse of -if^ae," he said, "has not dimmed the recollection of the iii ™4 30uragement which gave impulse to the inexperienced ;eplace,^iay of my youth, and stimulated me to persevere when :1 TOte| uggling hardly for equality of position with the genius •J. btti^i talent of the great artists whose superior excellence l:a-5clo|ungi-udgingly admitted, admired, and honoured." ii:i sets illo wing the example of Young, he ceased from his lite, m. lOurs while his strength was yet entire, and for the raiii Slice reason. " Because," he concluded, " I would not ,1 or ca| [lingly abate one jot of your esteem, I retire with the -insoiief of yet unfailing powers, rather than linger on the ,iiitaiT«4 ne, to set in contrast the feeble style of age with the ;a5tkore vigorous exertions of better years." Soon after cruel tjti retirement, he was honoured, as his great predecessor er, aiiJIin Kemble had been, with a public dinner, and the ^e pasiff'Sentation of a testimonial. It was the second time he .1 c2 20 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES had received a similar compliment — the first having bee conferred upon him on his secession from the manageria sceptre of Covent Garden, in 1839. Macready practised in an excellent school, and Ion stood side by side in honourable competition with a the greatest performers of his day. He followed n previous style, but with the boldness of a strong mine created one for himself ; peculiar and startling, not em nent for grace, but thrilling with effect. Nature Iib endoAved him with a noble voice, and study gifted hi with the resources of elocution. He was often accust of mannerism, but this charge, of somewhat vague d finition, may lie against almost every artist who h; attained distinguished eminence. James Kenney, tl' dramatic author, was fond of maintaining that an act ought to be a mannerist, provided the manner was gol and original. Whether by direct teaching, or the i; fleeted fascination of example, Macready engendered host of imitators, none of whom have emulated the rep tation of their model, or upheld the strong personah which stamped his conceptions. They were for t most part, servile and offensive, where he was power and original. It is satisfactory to think that the bre tends to extinction rather than increase. Even to his concluding season, it continued to h i debated question whether Macready was, in the enlar^ I sense, a first-rate representative of first-rate Sha]- spearean characters. But on the subject of his mai- gerial efforts to advance the interests of the legitim 3 drama, and to illustrate worthily the works of our gi t poet, there has been but one decision — that of e warmest praise. He proved himself a valuable piom;, opening avenues untrod before ; and would in all } '- bability have advanced much farther, had the enc^- ragement kept pace with the outlay. It has fcn OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 21 equently stated in conversation, and reiterated in print, lat during his four years' management, of two seasons : each term, at the two great national theatres, he ffered in his fortune to the amount of 10,000/. Such result, supposing it to be an approximation to the ath, was sufficient to check the most enthusiastic ti^^jjil lirit, and impresses a conviction that the public were I )t yet prepared for the complete revolution which r. Charles Kean has since effected. The modern drama is almost identified with the name Macready: Knowles, Bulwer, Talfourd, Shell, and yron, may claim him as their predominant illustrator. Thile the works of these popular writers retain their )ld on the living generation, the memory of his acting Virginius and William Tell, in Ion, Werner, Claude •Inotte, and Cardinal Richelieu will also be recorded jth corresponding admiration, Macready twice visited France professionally ; Ame- ca three times. Of all the English tragedians, he oved to be the leading favourite with the Parisians, id his great profits in the United States evinced the )pularity he enjoyed throughout the transatlantic con- lent. His third and last tour was curtailed by the jot at New York, in May, 1849, fomented, it was said, a rival actor, whose name, whether deservedly or not, ks thereby become linked to a notoriety as unenviable that of Erostratus ; and even more criminal, for instead ' the temple only, his madness (should the report be ) involved the destruction of the worshippers. If at actor had any part, directly or indirectly, in the .vage and unmanly tumult, which drove Macready om America, and caused the sacrifice of many lives, J has much to answer for. Mr. Macready carried with him to the privacy of his pmestic circle, a love of classic lore and studious habits, ■'■ lUid pi I fflwitl oilowd m fe inoed t» itheeiJ ;-rate S ofliis k\i -tlati jablef ildini Itli 22 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES resources for the evening of life whicli ordinary casualties have no power to diminish. But his hearth has beei unexpectedly desolated, and his household deities rudeh shivered round him. Gaps have been formed whicl never can be filled up again. These sad visitation; have called forth the unmingled sympathy which ha been universally felt and acknowledged. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 23 CHAPTER II. [E princess's theatre under the sole management of MR. CHARLES KEAN— THE SEASON COMMENCES WITH THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR — CAST OP THE COMEDY — CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS — KING JOHN, THE FIRST GREAT HISTORICAL REVIVAL MRS. SIDDONS'S REFLECTIONS ON THE CHARACTER OF CONSTANCE — THE CORSICAN BROTHERS— MANY VER- SIONS AND BURLESQUES OF THE LATTER — ITS GREAT ATTRACTIONS AT THE princess's — SUPERNATURAL AGENCY WELL AUTHENTICATED GHOST STORIES — MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON'S DISEMBODIED PERSECUTOR TEN- DER PRECAUTIONS OUR CLERKS — THE EASTER SPECTACLE, WITTIKIND AND HIS BROTHERS MR. LOVELL'S PLAY OF THE TRIAL OP LOVE THE PHANTASM OF THE VAMPIRE — THE PANTOMIME OF BILLY TAYLOR — CLOSE OF THE SEASON ON THE 14tH OF JULY — NUMBER OF PIECES PERFORMED — GENERAL RESULT. N Saturday, the 22d of November, 1851, the Princess's heatre re-opened under the sole direction of Mr. Charles 'ean, with Shakespeare's " Merry Wives of Windsor," ivested of the operatic and textual interpolations by Inch it had been too long disfigured. It now became ice more what the author had constructed it for — a gitimate comedy, with a rich assemblage of well-con- asted characters, leading naturally to a quick suc- ission of incidents arising from the situations as they xur. The fine, racy dialogue was no longer impeded Y the introduction of bravuras, interminable duets, and ourishes, so interwoven in labyrinthine mazes, that it )peared impossible for the singers ever to get out of lem ; and made the audience almost echo Dr. Johnson's ish, that such painful vocalism had been impossible, iven more misplaced was the similar attempt to opera- se the " Comedy of Errors," the whole effect of which 24 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES depends on the rapidity with which the action is carriec on, and the perpetually recurring entrances and exits o the persons mistaken for each other. A clever journal, in congratulating the public on th banishment of music from the present revival of Sliake speare's witty comedy, observed : — " Only fancy th arch and perplexing rogueries of the frolicsome dame upon amorous Old Jack interrupted every five minute by warbling information that ' Crabbed age and youth Camiot live together ;' and by reminding us of the old proverb, ' All that glitters is not gold.' Imagine, if you can, characters which ought to be sui tained by actresses of first-rate comic talents, in tl hands of English prima donnas ; and, to complete tl absurdity of the contrast, the accepted lover of swe Ayine Page personated by a gigantic or punchy tenc who stops the action of the play at the exact mome when it is worked up to a point, to sing to you tl pleasing intelligence that * The winter it is past, And the summer's come at last ;' to impart in tuneful obscurity substituted for words, th ' the wintry wind ' is ' Not so unkind As man's ingratitude ;' and in ' sweet sounds ' to make you acquainted with t pleasing fiction that ' A lover's eyes t^tU strike an eagle blind.' " The subjoined cast of the play will furnish an id of the manner in which the restored text of Shakespe; was given at the Princess's on this occasion : — Falstc Mr. Bartley ; Ford, Mr. C. Keau ; Page, Mr. J. Vinin OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 25 Fenton, Mr. J. Cathcart; Shallow, ]\Ir. Meadows; Slender, Mr. Harley ; Sir Hugh Evans, Mr. Keeley ; Doctor Cams, Mr. Wigan; Host, Mr. Addison; Bar- dolph, Mr. Wjnn; Pistol, Mr. Ryder; Nym, Mr. F. Cooke; Mrs. Ford, Mrs. C. Kean; Mrs. Page, Mrs. Keeley ; Anyie Page, Miss Mary Keeley ; Mrs. Quickly, Mrs. Winstanley. The same paper from which we have quoted above, and which, under a changed dynasty, subsequently be- came one of Charles Kean's bitterest assailants, con- tained the following encomium on his performance of Ford: — "We have never seen this character so ably conceived, or executed with such masterly skill. The nervous, irritable manner he displayed in the scene where he induces Falstajf to undertake his mission to Mrs. Ford gave ample evidence of how deeply and cor- rectly Mr. Kean has studied the peculiarities of the jealous husband. It was one of the best pieces of nature we have for some time seen displayed, and as such was felt and appreciated by warm applause." Actors of high standing, John Kemble included, were wont to deliver the part of Ford in a tone of measured, solemn declama- tion, forgetting that the extraordinary phase which jealousy assumes in this eccentric humorist is as distinct from the tragic passion of Othello or Leontes as the wit of Falstaff is from the pathos of Lear. The effect here is to be produced by comic extravagance of manner and utterance, in keeping with the still more extravagant suspicion, which becomes utterly incongruous when coupled with a staid, collected demeanour. Those who are old enough to remember Wroughton in Ford'^ have * Richard Wroughton (a native of Bath) retired in 1815. A second- class actor in general, with strong physical deficiences, but occasionally- inspired to excellence, as in Ford ; DarUmont (" Deaf and Dumb") ; Sir John Restless ("All in the Wrong"); and Apencantus, in " Tiiuon of Athens." 26 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES seen what Shakespeare intended and Charles Kean re- vived. The " Merry Wives of Windsor" ran for twenty- five nights, and then made way for " King John," produced on the 9th of February, 1852. This may be considered the new manager's first great attempt on the phan he has since carried out with such indomitable perseverance and /" triumphant success. He had long felt that, even by his most eminent predecessors, Shakespeare in many respects had been imperfectly illustrated. He had seen what earlier actors and managers had accomplished. He felt that steps had been taken in the right direction, and longed ardently to press farther on in the same path, to a more complete end. No longer fettered by restrain- ing influences, and confident in the result, although pre- vious experiments were attended by failure, he entered boldly on the enterprise. The result is before the public. It has worked a complete revolution in the dramatic system by the establishment of new theories and the subversion of old ones. The time had at length arrived when a total purification of Shakespeare, with every accompaniment that refined knowledge, diligent research, and chronological accuracy could supply, was suited to the taste and temper of the age, which had become emi- nently pictorial and exacting beyond all former prece- dent. The days had long passed when audiences could believe themselves transported from Italy to Athens by the power of poetical enchantment without the aid of / scenic appliances. In addition to the managerial credit which Mr. Charles Kean established by this early effort, and the still higher expectations he gave birth to from the manner in which " King John " was placed before the public, he made an important step in his reputation as an actor of the first class by a very complete and well-studied OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 27 «2iiB§ embodiment of the principal character — one of the most difficult, and perhaps altogether the most repulsive on the stage. There is nothing to assist the representative — no taking qualities, no commanding energy, no bril- liancy, even in crime. All is sordid, contemptible, gloomy, and ferocious. Yet there is dramatic strength in this craven monarch, as Shakespeare has drawn him, which has commanded the attention of the greatest tragedians. Old stage records tell us how the " shining ivi. 11 lights " of other days acquitted themselves in this lie bl arduous part. According to them, Quin lumbered pain- iOii,ffli fiilly through, growled some passages, bellowed others, lepai and chanted the rest. Churchill, in the " Rosciad," neers at Mossop for brow-beating the French King, and ighpi says the poor tame monarch seemed in danger of being eota swallowed up by his voracious brother of England. Sheridan, the elder, was pronounced too monotonous Jianuj Powell deficient in weight, and Holland exuberant in juiij noise. Garrick never could entirely satisfy himself in e part, and alternated between John and Faulconhriclge, lli{T( without reaching perfect mastery in either. Had his fgem, Ere and spirit been trebled, he lacked the six feet and the thews and sinews without which Faulconbridge can- jjjju act satisfy the eye of the spectator. John Kemble's performance of the King was considered faultless Young, following in the track of Kemble, played it with Imost equal effect. Many estimated it as Macready's best Shakespearean attempt ; and in Charles Kean's list [t may perhaps take the fifth place, giving precedence ;o his Hamlet, Lear, Wolsey, and Shyloch. The force of poetical genius is wonderfully exhibited n compounding a stage hero from such unpromising naterials. Unlike his kindred of the house of Anjou, ivho were generally remarkable for gigantic proportions U^g md a gallant bearing, John was as insignificant in form 28 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES as lie was timid and grovelling in mind. His stature, when the skeleton was measured on the opening of the tomb in Worcester Cathedral, proved to be diminutive almost to dwarfishness ; but his capacity for crime was illimitable. He was all gloom, without a scintillation of light, or a momentary interval of relief. Jests have been recorded of Tiberius and Caligula ; Pope Alexander VI. and Louis XI. had within their dark spirits a germ of diabolical humour ; but the features of John Lackland were never known to relax into a smile, or his tongue to give utterance to a mirthful sentiment. The scene where he darkly suggests the murder of Arthur to Hubert, and the terrible agonies of his death, are trying tests of the actor's power, in which he can raise no sympathy, and must extort applause by such life-like touches of painting as none but a great master can elicit. In the Lady Constance, Mrs. C. Kean stepped out of the line peculiarly recognized as her own, and assumed a character of matronly dignity and agonizing passion, which had been supposed to tax to their utmost the surpassing energies of lier greatest predecessor, Mrs. Siddons. She had performed the part with universal approbation in New York, but had not yet ventured it in London. It was a hazardous undertaking, with the reminiscences attached to it. The result completely took the public by surprise. Never was a character represented with more true feeling and natural pathos ; with more convincing evidence of careful study, or a more complete demonstration of having thoroughly caught up the spirit of the author. If Mrs. Siddons filled her audience with superior awe, Mrs. C. Kean drew more largely upon their tears. Campbell says, in his "Life of j\Irs. Siddons," that it was not unusual for spectators to leave the house when her part in the OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 29 tragedy was over, as if they could no longer enjoy Shakespeare himself when she ceased to be his inter- preter. This sounds very like a poet's hallucination. The sentence reads with an imposing air, but we have never heard it corroborated. Constance disappears from the scene in the third act. We find it impossible to believe that any one would lose two-fifths of a fine play, and take so little interest in the general subject, as not to wait for the catastrophe. What the biographer quotes as the great departed representative's own im- pression of the character is of higher value, and com- prises a useful lesson on the importance of abstraction in the art of acting. In the memoranda left behind her, Mrs. Siddons says : — "Whenever I was called upon to personate the character of Constance, I never, from the beginning of the play to the end of my part in it, once suffered my dressing-room door to be closed, in order that my attention might be constantly fixed on those distressing events, which, by this means, I could plainly hear going on upon the stage, the terrible effects of which progress were to be represented by me. More- over, I never omitted to place myself, with Arthur in my hand, to hear the march, when, upon the reconcilia- tion of England and France, they enter the gates of Anglers, to ratify the contract of marriage between the Dauphin and the Lady Blanche; because the sickening- sounds of that march would usually cause the bitter tears of rage, disappointment, betrayed confidence, baffled ambition, and, above all, the agonizing feelings of maternal affection, to gush into my eyes. In short, the spirit of the whole drama took possession of my mind and frame, by my attention being incessantly riveted to the passing scene." A strange contrast to this refined conception of the study that great acting requires, is presented by the 30 THE LIFE AND THEATKICAL TIMES who, until Mrs. Siddons appeared, stood first on the list. It is recorded of her, that she never read more of the play of " Macbeth" than her own part, as furnished by the prompter ; and was perfectly astonished when Garrick purified it of the interpolations of Davenant, and restored the original text.* Quin, also, observed with indignation, " What does little Davy mean by all this nonsense about a new version ? Don't I act Shake- speare's Macbeth?'''' The carelessness and habitual confidence of the young pillars of the drama of the present day, would do well to pause over Mrs. Siddons's memoranda, and other valuable precepts which have been bequeathed for their instruc- tion ; provided they will condescend to profit by them. They are greedy enough of celebrity, but dislike tlie study indispensable to its acquirement. They look eagerly to the top of the ladder, but are apt to forget the laborious instalments by which it is to be reached. Ten years before the production of " King John" at the Princess's, JMr. Macready had revived tlie same play, with much appropriate pomp, at Drury Lane. His field of action was larger, which gave him many advantages; but in accuracy of detail, the second representation sur- passed the first. From the list of authorities, named in the play -bill as having been consulted by Mr. C. Kean, an idea may be formed of the amount of reading and re- search necessary to produce the perfect restoration which was aimed at and attained. The public see the result. They are satisfied, surprised, and excited to vehement applause. But they do not sufiiciently appreciate, and, perhaps, scarcely understand, the ability and industry by which, in three hours, they have gathered in a store * According to Dr. Johnson, Mrs. Pritchard was vulgar, illiterate, and spoke bad English. .evom; vaUl instnif ivtk uke i ■'v !«! to for^ i-acliei me Ills; m. taje itionsu •M Keao,! onwlii lieresil reliefi iate, ■ 1 J ina OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 31 )f information which years of hxborious study could done convey to them through any other channel. Before quitting the subject of " King John" at the Princess's Theatre, it would be unjust not to name, in I special sentence of approval, the impressive acting of Miss Kate Terry, then a child of ten years of age, as Prince Arthur, and of Mr. Ryder as Hubert. Hubert is ubordinate in rank ; but he stands in prominent situa- ions in the play, and requires an actor of weight and udgment. Unless he plays u]3 to the King in the cenes in which they appear together, especially in he third act, the effect will go for nothing. George j'rederick Cooke, after his great London success, sus- ained this apparently second-rate character with John ^emble, and won more applause than was anticipated, Ithough placed far below his mark. Bridgewater was he Hubert in Quin's time : a painstaking actor, and a hrifty man, who combined the opposite trades of a endor of coals and a disciple of Thespis. One night, fter the scene in the fourth act, upon going into the p:een-room, Quin took him by the hand, and thanked lim for his earnest support on that particular occasion : .jjIj^ 'for sometimes, you know, Bridge," said he, "that, in he midst of a most important scene, your ideas wander your coal-wharf, and you are thinking less of Shake- peare than of measuring out a bushel of coals to some Id crone, who looks as if she would never pay for hem." A fortnight after the production of " King John," the erformances were varied by another specimen of the Trench modern school, even more peculiar than its prede- iessor, " Pauline," and destined to a much more enduring ttraction. In this instance, the supernatural was most ngeniously and effectively blended with the romantic. irt' /Ve allude to the far-famed " Corsican Brothers," who 32 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES were first transplanted to the London boards on the i 24th of February, 1852. This singular drama ran i sixty-six nights during the first season ; and has been repeated, in all, nearly two hundred and fifty times. No sooner did it receive the stamp of current fashion at the Princess's, than almost every theatre in the metro- polis brought forward versions of their own. For a time, the subject became a perfect mania ; and, as a matter of course, was burlesqued. There can be no safer criterion of success than ridicule. No opera can be said to have made a hit, unless the telling airs are ground on barrel organs at the corner of every street, and parodied by itinerant ballad-singers. The taste which enjoys and encourages travesty, though participated in by many, is , certainly not of an elevated order. When it invades I Shakespeare, it ought to be denounced as sacrilege, and j inspires a wish for a special act; or, that the outraged I bard could obtain a day rule, and come back in the flesh to carry off the perpetrators bodily to condign judgment in some penal limbo, created expressly for the purpose. As regards the " Corsican Brothers," nothing could be better than the acting of Mr. Charles Kean in the characters of the imperturbable, self-collected Fahien, and the gentler Louis del Franchi; and nothing could be more real and exciting than the masqued carnival at the Opera House in Paris. But, still, the piece owed much of its extraordinary success to the Ghost, with the novel and appalling manner in which its agency was introduced. Unquestionably, there is comfort and consolation, blended with positive enjoyment, in a well-authenticated ghost story. In spite of the advance of practical utili- tarianism, with the accompanying decline of romantic feeling, few are willing to give up Sir George Villiers, V ill k OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 33 [vs. Veal, Lord Tyrone, Lord Lyttleton's dove and hite lady, or the stern half-pay Major who appeared his old friend and comrade, to reprimand him for offering his favourite sword to get rusty. All the orld listens with interest to these and similar records, 'here is a fascination in a tale of supernatural horror, Miich philosophy can no more explain than it can with- and. The credulous followers of spirit rapping and ciirvoyance, the dupes of calculating impostors, are ] or representatives of this genuine faith. More people believe in ghosts than choose to acknow^- llge their credulity. Even scoffers tremble while they Intend to laugh. Let us remember what the sage lilac saySj in " Easselas :" — " That the dead are seen 1 more I will not undertake to maintain, against the c icurrent and unvaried testimony of all ages and of all rtions. There is no people, rude or learned, amongst viom apparitions of the dead are not related and be- ll v^ed. This opinion, which, perhaps, prevails as far as haian nature is diffused, could become universal only I) its truth. Those that never heard of one another ^Yuld not have agreed in a tale which nothing but ex- p ience can make credible. That it is doubted by -igle cavillers can very little weaken the general evi- d ice ; and some who deny it with their tongues confess itiy their fears." There are, it must be admitted, two damaging points ccnected with ghosts, in respect to the fulfilment of tl ir mission. They cannot take the initiative in dia- loLie, they can only speak when they are spoken to ; ai:. in nineteen cases out of twenty, they frighten those tovhom they appear to such an extent, that they render tliai tongue-tied and paralyzed. lademoiselle Clairon, the celebrated French tragic acess, the rival and contemporary of Dumesnil, and ,0L. II. D 34 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES the immediate predecessor of Eaucourt, Duchesnois, and Georges, was haunted for two years* by a ghost, whoi appears to have been exclusively malicious, and dis-j turbed in his rest by disappointed love. He was i\ young man who had sought her acquaintance soon afte: her first brilliant success. She received him into inti macy, liked his society, gave him, certainly, some en couragement, relieved him from pecuniary difficulties but refused to many him under the most passionate an' repeated entreaties. They had known each other fc about two years and a half, when the ill-starred lovei finding himself on his death-bed, implored her to grar him a last interview ; a request which those who sui rounded her warmly seconded, but her own repugnanc prevented her from complying with. He died, attende by servants, and the only friend, a female, whom he ha latterly admitted to his confidence. On that same evei ing, as the clock struck eleven, Mademoiselle Clain being at supper with a large party, a dreadful cry \v heard by all present, which she immediately recognizi as the voice of her deceased lover, and fainted wi emotion and terror. For more than two years this sai , unearthly cry, which seemed to proceed from the emp | air, was constantly heard by her wherever she happen to be at the moment, and by all who were present at t time. In vain the police established the most dilige i- search, thinking it might either be a trick or a consjj L racy ; but nothing ever transpired to shake the imprij sion of its being a supernatural visitation. Sometii)^ j|.^ the sharp report of a gun or pistol was substituted the cry, accompanied by a loud and continued clappi (j^ of hands. This last demonsti-ation reminded her of favour of the public to which she had been so k accustomed ; the efiect was agreeable and consoil(J[!iti,; * See her Memoirs, written by herself. [ OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 35 f *'' ptlier than productive of terror. All this went on for e time already named ; and on the last occasion there as an accompaniment of melodious music, as if the bostlj visitant was taking his departure in a friendly ad reconciled state of mind. Not long after this, an elderly lady was announced, id admitted to the presence of La Clairon, appearing sfore her as a perfect stranger. They sat down and ized on each other in perfect silence, and with instinc- e interest. At length the old lady explained who she , and the object of her visit. She proved to be the end of M. de S ; had attended him on his death- ; and now felt prompted by incontrollable anxiety to the woman whose cruelty had hastened his decease. fter much circumlocution, and many explanations. Mademoiselle," said she, " I do not blame your con- ict ; and my poor friend fully admitted his obligations you; but his unhappy passion mastered his judgment, d your refusal to see him embittered, while it accele- ted, his last moments. His eyes were fixed upon the iabteJ^ck, anxiously watching the motion of the hands, when half-past ten his valet announced to him your positive wmlkiBfusal to come. After a short silence, he seized me by e arm, in a paroxysm of despair, which nearly deprived e of my senses, and exclaimed, ' Unfeeling woman ! she will gain nothing by this ; 1 will persecute her korasBter death, as I have followed her throughout my life!' tried to calm him ; but he died as he uttered these dful words." Such is the account which Mademoiselle Clairon her- tjnueiiiP If has left of this very extraordinary episode in her rsonal history. She states the fact, without pretending understand or account for it ; but modestly admits at she feels herself too insignificant to suppose that she uld be selected as an objector medium of supernatural d2 ::.-mu As iketlie 36 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES communication. Assuredly she was no accomplice in these "manifestations," which, like the more recent table-juggling, were exhibited in the presence of many witnesses. Two light one-act pieces, " Tender Precautions," by Mr. Serle ; and " Our Clerks," by Mr. Tom Taylor, were successfully produced in the early part of the season of 1851-2. The run of the latter was prematurely stopped by the secession from the Princess's of Mr. and Mrs. Keeley, who had performed the principal characters, written expressly for them, and measured to their pecu- liarly happy style. The Easter spectacle of " Wittikind, and liis Brothers," was less universally approved, and reached only twenty-one repetitions, after which it "died and made no sign." This tale of fairy magic combined much splendour of dresses and scenery, lively dialogue and clever acting ; but the plot and story were not skil- fully condensed. They dragged on slowly, producing tedium, which subsequent curtailment was unable to re- lieve. Burlesque had passed its hey-day, and began ti give evident symptoms of decrepitude. On the 7th of June, Mr. Lovell's play of the " Tria of Love " was represented for the first time ; the twi principal characters by Mr. and ]\Irs. C. Kean. Neithe the actors nor the author, on this occasion, came up t the level of the high reputation they had jointly assiste^ in establishing for the "Wife's Secret," to which admh able drama the present bore considerable resemblancf in the construction of plot, the time of action selectee the style of interest, and the truthfulness and grace ( sentiment expressed in language of more than ordinar i poetic beauty. Less than this was not to be looked fcj from the pen of a writer so well known and so justlf appreciated as Mr. Lovell. Judged by a positive starj dard, the merits of the " Trial of Love " call for v> ofi, cliaiad their tittil Med, icliit" iccomi Ijdial) itenot iprodi DiaHeli 'the ie;tte IB, cfinie fltly« md tioiseli ind itBonl teloob DdSOJ lositiw OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 37 )anegyric ; but the high place in literature which the \-riter had attained, exposed him to a comparison with limself — a trying, though an inevitable ordeal. Tested )j his own fame, it must be admitted that something ^as deficient. The characters appeared to be repetitions If his own fancy, reflected symbols of those he had pre- iously created, and with which his mind had become so ientified, that he drew them again without the con- ciousness of their being recognizable as copies of riginal portraits from the one hand. An objection or lemish of this natui'e is more strongly obvious in a play lan in any other form of imaginary composition. The Trial of Love " ran twenty-three nights, greatly to the QJoyment of successive audiences. With the exception f the "Provost of Bruges," and the "Wife's Secret," oth by the same author, we cannot readily name any icent play, belonging to the same class, of superior retensions. On the 14th of June Mr. and Mrs. C. Kean selected le " Trial of Love " for their benefit, after which was reduced a very extraordinary melo-dramatic extrava- anza (by Mr. Dion Bourcicault), with as singular a Bsignation — " The Vampire ; a Phantasm, related in hree Dramas." This strange specimen of the worst 3ssible style of French taste, bore no affinity, excepting 16 first part of the title, to an operatic romance, by lanche, which came out at the English Opera-house in 320, and derived its origin (through French descent) cm a fragment attached to one of Lord Byron's poems, id a tale by Dr. Polidori, for some time attributed, lOugh quite erroneously, to the noble bard himself, he whole affair, including the performance of the ampire hero, by the English dramatizer, may be con- dered a mistake, of which the less that is said the tter. 38 THE life'and theatrical times The season closed on the 14th of July, having been much shorter in duration, and considerably more limited in remunerative success, than its immediate predecessor For this result there were many obvious reasons amongst which might be placed foremost the temporarj reaction, very naturally to be looked for, which hac succeeded the unusual excitement of the Great Exhibi- tion. The different pieces acted amounted to exactlj the same number as in the year preceding, nameb twenty-seven ; of which nine were new. Amongs the latter, the pantomime of " Billy Taylor " must no; be forgotten, which completed its full attraction of nin consecutive weeks, and fully upheld the reputation whid the house had long enjoyed in that most importar branch of the art dramatic. The pantomime has eve been one of a London manager's safest cards, if playe with ordinary skill. No matter how slack business ma be before Christmas, he is sure to turn the tide, an "pull up" losses, through the enticement of the fai usually provided at that genial season. This same vei " to pull up," is one which managers have occasion conjugate more frequently than they desire, and n. always with corresponding success. There is another anomalous feature attached peculiar to the statistics of pantomime. Success has little to ( with excellence. No matter whether the subject 1 original or hackneyed ; whether the concoction be t) best or worst of its kind ; or whether the thousands must inevitably cost, be reckoned by pounds, shilling or pence, — the length of its run, and the returns to t treasury, are pretty much the same. There is a certa sum to be got in a certain time, and no increased pn sure, either in outlay, ornament, or supplementary attre tion; no interpolated adjuncts, whether in the sha of acrobats, aeronauts, funambulists, elephants, horsi OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 39 lancing dogs, or monkeys ; of duplicate harlequins and olumbines, multiplied clowns, and incalculable sprites, an swell that sum beyond the average amount. The ase reduces itself to a matter of arithmetic. So many oliday visitors for a given number of weeks, give so luch and no more. Harlequin and his associates are not indigenous, but (if exotic, continental parentage ; yet they have become, [pith time and familiar association, so thoroughly en- IjTafted on our island soil, that no country can compete Vith England in a genuine comic pantomime. The Humour is not understood or relished elsewhere. The )reed, too, has greatly improved with expatriation. !^either the French Fierrot, nor the Italian Scarainuccia, )r Zannetto, are to be compared to our Clown ; while :he foreign Arlechino is little better than a clumsy, blundering buffoon. On the 2d of Sept. 1852, Mr. J. K. Chapman, many j^ears editor of the Sunday Times, and the husband of Airs. C. Kean's younger sister, Anne, died at a com- paratively early age, leaving his widow and a large family of eleven children utterly unprovided for, and [without worldly hope or prospect. From that moment, Mr. C. Kean, animated by the noblest feelings that can Iwarm the heart, has adopted, fostered, and educated them, with even more than the liberality and affection of a parent. Such conduct stands almost without a parallel. It soars above human eulogy, and will find a higher reward than man's approbation. 40 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES CHAPTER III. MR. C. KEAN'S third SEASON AT THE PRINCESS'S— THE PRIMA DONNA- MELODRAMA OF MONT ST. MICHEL — ENGAGEMENT AND FIRST APPEj\RANCI OF MR. WRIGHT MR. WESTLAND MARSTON'S PLAY OF ANNE BLAKE — RE- TIREMENT OF MR. BARTLEY — PANTOMIME OF CHERRY AND FAIR STAR- MR. DOUGLAS JERROLD'S COMEDY OF ST. CUPID, OR DOROTHY'S FORTUNI REVIVAL OF MACBETH FLY LEAF — GENERAL REMARKS ON THE PLAl AS NOW REPRESENTED — EASTER SPECTACLE OF MARCO SPADA— REVIVAI OF LORD Byron's SARDANAPALUS — FLY LEAF — BURLESQUES — UN- FAIRNESS OF THE PRACTICE — MR. T. P. COOKE AT THE PRINCESS'S— CLOSE OF THE SEASON. Charles Kean's tliird campaign at the Princess's com- menced on the 18th of September, 1852, with a comedy, in two acts, adapted from the French by Bom-cicauU. called the " Prima Donna." This new drama intro- duced Miss Heath, a young beginner of much promise, who made a very favourable impression ; and Mr. Walter Lacy, a well-established metropolitan favourite, who succeeded to the post vacated by the dejmrture ol Mr. Wigan. The "Prima Donna" ran thirty-four nights ; but, though a complete and ingeniously con- structed specimen of the drawing-room class, it had scarcely weight enough to constitute the feature oi an evening's performance. It was well acted, and pleased without being attractive, inaugurating the sea- son as an agreeable prologue to the more important novelties in active preparation. Within three weeks a romantic melodrama followed, under the title ol " Mont St. Michel, or, the Fairy of the Sands ;" also derived from a French source, and dramatized by Mr. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 41 Bayle Bernard. The action is supposed to pass in N"ormandy in 1660, while Cardinal Mazarin exercised dictatorship in France. Every aid that beautiful jcenerj, punctiliously correct costume, and excellent icting could render, to carry out the ideas of the author, rvere lavishly bestowed; but thirteen performances vound up the affair. There was something in the tirrangement of the piece that failed to stamp it with the lixpected longevity. It must be remembered, however, is having presented to a new constituency Mr. Wright, 10 long the comic atlas of the Adelphi, who had now ransferred his services to a very different scene of action —the arena as distinct as if he had travelled to Edinburgh ')r Dublin. Every theatre in London, although it may oe separated only by a street from its next neighbour, las an audience exclusive moulded to its own atmo- iphere. The new comer was received on his entry, as night have been expected, with long and loud applause. ie had trod those boards before, and was a returned avourite rather than a total stranger. For an instant le appeared embarrassed, but soon recovered his self- lommand, and went to his work with the confidence of an xperienced practitioner, and a merry glance of his eye, vliich said emphatically, " our old acquaintanceship has ;ot a little rusty, and we scarcely recognise each other iter some years' absence; but it shall be no fault of 'nine if we are not on intimate terms before the night is iver.^' Harley had a part in the same piece, written up tO his individual peculiarities, a pompous self-sufficient, fmpty-headed local magistrate of the Muddlework or Von uunder family, who venerates the sacred institution of Hanging, and would consign his own father to the '^ edge if penny cord" without remorse, if it fell within the ine of what he persuades himself is his duty. It was lelightful to see two such actors as Harley and Wright^ 42 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES types of different histrionic ages and schools, exchanging hits in friendly contest. They resembled two cunning masters of fence, equally matched, thrusting and parry- ing, playing carte and tierce, without advantage on either side. The third novelty of the season appeared on the 28th of October, in a more important shape than its imme- diate predecessors, — a five-act play, entitled " Anne Blake," from the pen of Mr. Westland Marston, the author of " Strathmore," the '• Patrician's Daughter," and " Marie de Meranie ;" a writer who has placed his name, as a modem dramatist, in the front rank with Sheridan Knowles, Bulwer, Lovell, and Douglas Jerrold. His earlier triumphs had proved that he was gifted with poetical imagination and clear judgment. He had shown himself a master of pathos and a genuine pupil of nature. There was nothing in the title of the present play to fore- stall attention, or shadow forth startling effects ; no pro- mise of agonising incidents or a haiTowing catastrophe. It could neither be historical nor romantic. No clue was indicated by which to guess on what the interest might turn, how the story would unravel itself, what passions ■would be called into action, and by what process the author intended to work out a moral or a conclusion. He must have thought with Juliet — " What's in a name?" when he selected one so simple and inexplicable. All this spoke of the self-reliance of genius, which scorns a flourish of trumpets, and relies on its own inherent strength. In the construction of his play (which has been printed), ]\Ir. W. Marston appears to have taken simph- city in power to be a great secret of dramatic effect, This is one of the points which marks the mastery of Shakespeare over all other dramatic writers. The inci-- dents in " Anne Blake " are small in themselves, bul i OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 43 ey expand under skilful treatment. All that thoy omprise might happen to any one to-morrow in the or- inary occurrences of life ; and, although a happy issue alls less surely within the category of human events, it lere occurs without the appearance of studied design, ind is not forcibly dragged in, as Alexander by mere trength severed the Gordian knot, which he was unable y ingenuity to disentangle. The character of the heroine 3 well suited to call forth the powers of a great actress. Nothing could exceed the truth and beauty of Mrs. C. • lean's performance. Such a part is the more difficult to mbody, in proportion as it appears easy. It abounds in ine touches and delicate pencillings, which require the nost skilful discrimination, the most refined taste, to ring out with due effect. The author has portrayed being, naturally kind and sensitive, warped by .arsh treatment into fretfulness, caprice, and suspicion, rntil, with no inherent fault, she is on the brink of fatal jrror. But the warm heart bubbles up under the imposed mrface, and the true principles vindicate their superiority hen circumstances give them play. Colonel Thorold is fine, manly, open-hearted soldier, clear and consistent Xi thought and action, a just type of a noble class which affords many living exemplars. A man of truth in word 'and deed; the moral and the executive happily com- jbined, and forming together a character more deve- jloped by strength of intellect than oratorical display. !A11 this Mr. C. Kean embodied with the distinctive iden- tity which forms one of his peculiar attributes. When the tfourth act terminated with the finest scene of the play, in iwhich Thorold relates to Anne the story of her parents, jand the ties which bound him so closely to her father, [there was scarcely a dry eye in the house. Intense at- itention was only interrupted by suppressed sobs, and when the audience had time to recover, their satisfaction 44 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES was expressed in a loud and simnltaneous call for tlie two great performers who had so pleased by paining them. A spontaneous compliment which we believe to be without precedent on the English stage. This was repeated with equal fervour as the curtain fell in the fifth act, when the author was also demanded, according to modern custom, and bowed his acknowledgments from a private box. "Anne Blake" was performed for forty-two nights, but miiny of the houses were not remunerative. Here was a play, of a high order, beautifully written, admirably acted, and perfect in all the details of scenic decoration and appointment. Successive audiences evinced their delight by what may be considered the most unerring evidences — mingled tears and applause ; while the press was unanimous in eulogy. How then is it to be ac- counted for that the attraction should fall so far below the expectations justly excited ? The question resolves itself into one of those unaccountable paradoxes appa- rently inherent in all matters connected with the drama, and which neither reasoning nor experience can reduce to a satisfactory conclusion. A manager naturally repeats a good play which gives satisfaction as long as his treasury tells him there is a chance of return ; but the experiment must have a limit. In the olden time, it was not unusual to force down an indifferent or even a bad novelty until it became productive by mere dint of repetition. But the cause and the consequence have both become obsolete in modern practice. On Saturday, the 18th of December, the veteran George Bartley took his leave of the stage in a farewell benefit, announced under the immediate patronage of her Majesty and his Eoyal Highness Prince Albert; that night being the fiftieth anniversary of his appear- ance in London. After sustaining one of his favourite OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 45 haracters, Falstaf, in the first part of " Henry the \uirth," he addressed a crowded audience in a short irewell speech, frequently interrupted by loud applause. Bartley was born in Bath (1782), a city which has given lany good actors to the stage. His father, a decayed lerchaut, had in the decline of life become box-keeper 1 the theatre there, which may have led the son to ubibe a taste for the dramatic art. While struggling -ith the vicissitudes of a strolling life, Mrs. Jordan be- anie acquainted with and recommended him to Sheridan. »u the 11th of December, 1802, he appeared at Drury .ane, as Orlando, in " As You Like It," and in Sil.3, was the original Count Montalhan, in Tobin's iiceessful comedy of the "Honeymoon." For five ears he remained the stock juvenile lover and principal -alkiug gentleman ; but his short stature and disposi- on to obesity warned him that his tenure of that line as likely to be brief. He therefore betook himself to ,ie provinces for more general practice, and for the ^ven succeeding years, filled prominent positions at •rlasgow, Dublin, Manchester, and Liverpool, either as ■ssee, acting-manager, or performer. At Birmingham, ,1 1814, he married his second wife. Miss Smith, a jragic actress of high repute, considered by many the accessor of Mrs. Siddons. In 1815 he re-appeared at rury Lane, as Falstaff, and laid the foundation of his ture fame. He next visited America, accompanied by is wife, and returned with an independent fortune, Lifficient for people of moderate desires. Not wishing 3 retire into idle life, he engaged in the winter at /Ovent Garden, and during the summer recess at the iyceum, occasionally delivering lectures on astronomy svritten for him of course), illustrated by the then ew transparent orrery. When Fawcett retired from be stage-management of Covent Garden, Bartley sue- 46 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES ceeded him, and retained his post through all change-' of dynasty, under Charles Kemble, Laporte, Bunu Macready, and Madame Vestris. He was fond o office, and assimilated himself readily to the views o the shifting authorities. If there was policy rather thai independence in this, the most that can be said is, tha he followed numerous examples, higher in rank anc more expanded in ambition. At a period when h enjoyed professional happiness to a great extent, hi domestic comfort was rudely broken up, by the sue cessive deaths within a few years, of his only so/ and daughter, followed by that of his wife, and coEi summated by the loss of nearly all his realised fortuuf' in a disastrous speculation. During the years 184^j 1849, and 1850, he was honoured by her Majesty' commands to read at Buckingham Palace, and Windsci Castle, the translations of "Antigone" and "CEdipus," f( which Mendelssohn had composed his immortal musi^ Subsequently he was selected to give lessons in eloci tion to his Eoyal Highness the Prince of Wales. C Saturday, the 17th of July, 1858, while sitting withli old friend and brother actor ]\Ir. Charles Farley, at a pe formance of the Christy's Minstrels, he was sudden seized with paralysis, and being immediately convey( home to his house in Woburn Square, he remaim speechless from that period till he died on the followh Thursday, the 2 2d. For a moment or two only appeared sensible to a kind inquiry from her ]\Iajes as to the state of his health. His remains were de]; sited with those of his family in the churchyard St. Mary's, at Oxford. Bartley maintained through life an unbleraish character. The high estimation in which he was hf privately, enhanced his professional reputation, perha beyond the rank to which his talents entitled hi OF CHAKLES KEAN, F.S.A. 47 He could scarcely be deemed an actor of tlic very first- plass. Although uniformly correct, judicious, hearty, md in earnest, with a perfect knowledge of the niechan- sm of his art, there was an appearance of labour, a fvant of that utter concealment of study, and of the rich, anaffected colouring which marked the acknowledged aiaster-pieces of some three or four of his predecessors ^nd contemporaries ; such as Munden, Dowton, Fawcett, md William Farren, We hesitate to place him 3xactly in the same line, though, in many respects, an efficient substitute when called upon to fill the place of iither The Pantomine at the Princess's, for the Christmas of 1852-3, on the subject of " Cherry and Fair Star," had the usual success, and rather more than the usual run, Extending to ten weeks. On Saturday, the 22d of January, 1853, a new Comedy, in three acts, by the late Douglas Jerrold, entitled " St. Cupid; or, Dorothy's jFortune," was presented for the first time in public. jit had been previously recommended for her Majesty's [private theatricals at Windsor, and acted by royal ^command at the Castle, on the preceding evening, Friday, January the 21st. Every effort had been made to establish a favourable anticipation ; every possible care had been bestowed on the rehearsals, and the acting throughout gave the most unqualified satisfac- tion. The principal characters were sustained by Mrs. C. Kean, Mrs. Walter Lacy, Mr. Wright, Mr. Harley, Mr. Walter Lacy, Mr. J. Vining, and Mr. Eyder. The comedy was well received by the public, and noticed by the critics in a just and complimentary strain. It was played thirty-seven nights, but with very limited attraction (the receipts averaging considerably less than the expenditure), and is not likely ever to be asked for again. There was a superabundance of tlie epigrammatic 48 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES terseness of diction, tlie sarcastic pungency, the spark- ling flashes of humour, the originality of design, the distinctness of character, for which the brilliant writer had long been celebrated ; but the one great principle of dramatic vitality — construction — was wanting. Of plot there was little, and of incident less. It was all dialogue ; but the wittiest dialogue will not alone make an effec- tive play. Without the action and situations by which they are enforced, even the inspired lessons of Shake- speare would fall flatly upon the minds of his most devoted v\'orshippers. The tragedy of "Macbeth" was performed before her Majesty at Windsor Castle, on Friday the 4th of February. On Monday, the 14th of the same month, it was given to the public at the Princess's. On this occasion, Mr. C. Kean, for the first time, appended to (- his ordinary play bill, an additional " Fly Leaf," in which he prepared the audience for many innovations in architecture and costume, and named the authorities he had consulted. It ran thus : — " The success which attended the production of ' King John,' in 1852, has encouraged me to atfempt a second Shakespearean revival on the same scale. The very un- certain information, however, which we possess respectino the dress worn by the inhabitants of Scotland, in the eleventh century, renders any attempt to present this tragedy attired in the costume of the period a task oj very great difficulty. I hope, therefore, I may not be deemed presumptuous if I intrude a few words upor the subject, and endeavour to explain upon what autho- rities I have based my opinions. " In the absence of any positive information handec down to us upon this point, I have borrowed material? from those nations to whom Scotland was continual]} opposed in war. The continual inroads of the Norse- OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 49 rn, and the invasion of Canute, in 1031, who, com- 1 ling in his own person the sovereignty of England, I^rwaj, and Denmark, was the most powerful monarch c his time, may have taught, at least the higher cisses, the necessity of adopting the superior weapons ad better defensive armour of their enemies. For t '.-^e reasons I have introduced the tunic, mantle, cross grtering, and ringed byrne of the Danes and Anglo- &xons, between whom it does not appear that any very D'tterial difference existed ; retaining, however, the p2uliarity of the striped and chequered garb, which Slims to be generally admitted as belonging to the &otch long anterior to the history of-thjs play ; together Vfih the eagle's feather in tlie helmet, which, according tj Gaelic tradition, was the distinguishing mark of a cjeftain. Party-coloured woollens and cloths appear to Live been commonly worn amongst the Celtic tribes fi|m a very early period. ['Diodorus Siculus and Pliny, allude to this peculiarity iiitheir account of the dress of the Belgic Gauls ; Strabo, Ijny, and Xiphilin, record the dress of Boadicea, Queen ol:he Iceni, as being worn chequer-wise, of many colours, cjnprising purple, light and dark red, violet and blue. I' There is every reason to believe that the armour and Ttepons of the date of Macbeth were of rich workman- 0. Harold Hardrada, King of Norway, is described Snorre, as wearing, in the battle with Harold 11. , i|tigof England, A. D. 1066, a blue tunic and a splendid himet. The Norwegians not having expected a battle tit day, are said to have been without their coats of mail. I" This mail appears to have been composed of iron ril^s or bosses, sewn upon cloth or leather, like that of tl: Anglo-Saxons. Thorlef, a young Icelandic or Nor- wj^'ian warrior, of the tenth century, is mentioned in tlj Eyrbiggia Saga as wearing a most beautiful dress, 'OL. II. E 50 THE LIFE AND THEATKICAL TIMES and it is also said that his arms and equipments we extremely splendid. " The seals and monuments of the early kings ai nobles of Scotland, represent them as armed and attii: in a style similar to their Anglo-Norman contemporari Meyrick, in his celebrated work on ancient armo gives a plate of Alexander I., who commenced his reii in 1107, (only fifty years after the death of Macbeti and there we find him wearing a hauberk, as depictedi Saxon illuminations, over a tunic of red and blue clol; " The Earl of Huntingdon, who succeeded Alexand, under the title of David I., is represented on horsebaj, in his seal, wearing a tunic to the knee, which Cj. C. H. Smith (one of our most distinguished authorit , to whom I am deeply indebted on this, as on all fori r occasions), in his work on the ancient costume of E: - land, describes as being party coloured. In the sa ? volume he gives the figure of a Scotch knight of 8 time of Edward I., 1306, who holds a spear with a 1(;'- shaped blade. On his head he wears a small skull- ;p of steel, like some of the ancient Anglo-Saxon warr s of the eleventh century, and is habited in a surcoa )f cloth, descending to the knee, very much resemblin a kind of tartan. Siward, Earl of Northumberland, d his son, who, with their followers, were despatched y King Edward the Confessor, to the aid of Malcolm, ■v 'C equipped in the leather suits called coriuni or coriet i, which were introduced amongst the Saxons in the ni h century, and are described as having been worn by 1 rl Harold's soldiers in 1063, in his war with the Wei. In the " Life of St. Colomba," written in Latin ^y Adomnan, one of his successors, in the early part of le seventh century, and translated into English by T- John Smith, in 1798, we are told that the monk at that time were clothed in the skins of beasts : the ;li OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 51 Itterly tliey had woollen stuffs, manufactured by tlicm- jlves, and linen, probably imported from the Continent. iie houses were made of wicker, or wands, woven on ^ikes, which wero. afterwards plastered with clay, and (en the Abbey of lona was built of the same rude nterials. '"Roderick, King of Strathclyde, is mentioned by l.icange as sleeping on a feather bed about this time ; s that even in those primitive ages luxuries were known aongst the great. ;" In the four centuries and a half which intervened I'tween the death of St. Colomba and the reign of Iicbeth, it is reasonable to presume that considerable improvements took place amongst the Scotch, and that tiJ fashion of their dress and buildings was borrowed rm their more civilized neighbours. Under these dasiderations, the architectvire previous to the Norman c'lquest, has been adopted throughout the entire play. tning the five centuries which preceded that event, Vi Anglo-Saxons made great advances, and erected Einy castles and churches of considerable importtvnce. Iiey excelled in iron work, and frequently ornamented t!dr buildings with colour. On this subject I have ajailed myself of the valuable knowledge of George Cdwin, Esq., F.S.A., of the Royal Institute of Archi- t;ts, for whose suggestions I take this opportunity of amowledging my obligations." \rhe attention of the public was powerfully arrested by tis explanatory preface. Had such a document been pjt forth in the days of Garrick, it would have been rire than " caviare " to the million, and scarcely less iiielhgible to the select few. In those days of little ii]uiry on such matters, no one ever thought of figuring t^!his mind's eye a portrait of Macbeth, in the outward njn, divested of a heavy com-t-suit as stiff as buckrnm, I e2 52 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES of complicated rujSles, and a ponderous wig " of Marl-, borough's ample fold," confined at first in a tie, but lei loose to dangle about the actor's e?xs and shouldert when he re-entered in consternation from the murder o Duncan. Mr. Kean was anxious to impart his owr earnest love of correct illustration to the audience t( wliom he appealed, and the " Fly-leaf" carried with i the assurance that in any historical play nothing woulf be introduced except under the sanction of historica authority. From that moment the preface was looke( upon~as a necessary introduction to the performance and became associated with it, as an interpretation, ii the same light in which the Greek chorus elucidates tli U)rogress of the classical tragedy. The novelty wa speedily copied by those who had never thought of i, i before, and from imitation passed on to burlesque, i I the ordinary course of almost every original idea ihi obtains popularity and is felt to be instructive. The system of Shakespearean restoration whic , Charles Kean had so triumphantly introduced in " Kin I • John," he carried, if possible, to a higher degree < perfection in " Macbeth." Encouragement increas< effort. Finding his own views so wannly acknowledge by the public, he pursued them with the contidem which success naturally inspires. " Macbeth " ran i twenty weeks, at the rate of three performances p week. No physical strength could endure or rend, justice to the leading character under more frequei repetition. Throughout the whole of this period, t! houses were literally crowded to the roof, and on mai evenings hundreds were turned away who could obta no admittance. The pit entrance was besieged at early hour, and the old days of dramatic enthusias seemed to be revived. In the new arrangement of t play, the text of Shakespeare was most carefully pi served, a few occasional passages only being omitted OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 53 ] necessary to the action, and lengthening without elu- jlating the dialogue. It was deemed desirable to •ain the appropriate music of Matthew Lock, which j[d been so happily composed for, and so long iden- ;:ed in complete harmony with the subject, that it ight almost be considered as flowing from the Shake- ! ;arean fount. This introduction was still sanctioned, as t'lad ever been before, by general approval. Amongst ;>. chief mechanical novelties we may enumerate the inner in which the apparition of Banqxio was con-. :iv-ed, the entire arrangement of the witches through- )■, particularly in the cauldron scene, wliicli was most p turesquely original ; the, rude grandeur of the banquet iithe third act, and the imposing picture at the close. Mrs. C. Kean had appeared in London before, as Lady 'iicheth, and with great success. Her admirable per- fcmance astonished all who had been accustomed to a ociate her more exclusively with the gentler heroines othe stage, and who were scarcely prepared to find the '[:)Ia, Portia, and Rosalind of Shakespeare equal to this timendous incarnation. Vs Macbeth, Charles Kean had frequently won the a niration and applause of the public during his earlier 8(1 sons at the Hay market. We have already named tls character as one of the prominent features of his airaction at that theatre during the season of 1840-1. Slice that period, his style, retaining all its inherent eirgy, had become mellowed by experience, and C(k-ected by study and constant reflection. When the tcrent of rage became necessary, he gave vent to it, as biore, in an overwhelming burst ; but now, another g.at and perhaps superior attribute presented itself with n^-e marked peculiarity in his general mode of delivery, -i power of condensed energy in repose, with an acompanying clearness of enunciation which renders 54 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES tlie suppressed whisper as impressive as the loudt explosion of agony. There is a mastery of art in Is which none but the most highly gifted and chosen -jv are able to accomplish. The latter quality is progiji- sively derived from judgment regulated by refined tasl; the former springs from the sudden inspiration of geriia with the lightning-like rapidity of thought; as k old Greek painter dashed his sponge at the moutlbf the horse he was delineating, and at once produced le foam which had so long baffled his imitative skill. Nothing indicates true genius and conceptive stren ;li more decidedly than the rare faculty of convejig intense passion, without, as Shakespeare says, " teaiig it to tatters, to very rags," and splitting the ears of le groundlings with intolerable, unmeaning noise. Dp, concentrated feeling is never loud; but common-p];.e, routine imitators of acting, who feel nothing, are n^li given to exercise lungs in place of judgment, an(to roar unmercifully when, if actually possessed by be simulated rage, nature would render them almost ijir- ticulate. They cannot be made to understand this, jad appeal from individual censure to the plaudits of;he injudicious and ignorant many, by which their mist;;es are too often encouraged. " Can you shout?" w! a question once put by a country manager to an ambi lus novice. "I rather flatter myself I can," replied he Macbeth in embryo. " Then learn to shout in ihe right place, and you'll do," was the comforting rejoii^er. In this "right place" lies nearly all the myster] it forms a dramatic ^j)ons asinorum as difficult to surmou as the fifth proposition of Euclid. On one of the most triumphant repetitions of Maeth at the Princess's, Mr. C. Kean received a compliant equally unexpected and agreeable. Mademo jl'le Kachel happened to be present in a private box. He OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 55 ' |iew that slie formed one of the audience, and played ;8 best in consequence. When the play ended, she (,me round to his dressing-room for personal introduc- ■ m. Her praises were poured forth with all the ardour > i" appreciating- genius, and wound up with this enthu- ■ lastic ebullition, " Permettez que je vous embrasse." '■ jach a request demanded instant compliance, and the ' Internal salute was most cordially exchanged between 'i ie two great artists. The incident recalls a similar one I at happened when Garrick visited Paris. In a '■ tivate party at the house of Mademoiselle Clairon, the fi [achel of her day, he w^as asked to gratify the company 'i r a specimen of his powers. He rose at once, and ; ive the dagger soliloquy from " Macbeth," without ! j-eparation or arrangement. The spectators were elec- ified; and Clairon, although unacquainted with the : lugiish language, was so excited by the expressive [ ijtion and features, that she caught Garrick in her arms, ii jid kissed him. Mrs. Garrick, who was present, and ; jequentiy related the story, invariably added, "All s (ere sm-prised, but David and I were delighted." i The Easter spectacle for 1S53, at the Princess's li I'heatre, consisted of a melodrama, entitled, " Marco I ipada," very tastefully adapted by Mr. Palgrave Simp- ;; \>n, from Scribe's opera of the same name ; the music ;; ly Auber being of course omitted. This piece was ; jifinitely embellished by the introduction of a superb ; |all-room scene in the second act. It proved very i/ [iccessful, and commanded a run of forty-six nights, ,- pntmued for thirty-two more after the opening of the iext season. I j On Easter Monday, in this year, an important change . |)ok place in theatrical government. Mr. B. Webster ; jisigned the direction of the Haymarket, which he had J ield for sixteen years, and was succeeded by Mr. Buck- 56 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES stone; the former gentleman from that time confini • himself to the sole superintendence of the Adelp , Mr. Webster's rule over the Haymarket was eminenu- brilliant and successful. The best authors and actc; were most liberally paid, and the national drama encc- raged with patriotic zeal. In 1844, he offered 50(, with contingent advantages, for a prize comedy, >) be awarded by a committee, consisting of Messrs. . Young, E. R. Moran, Henry Ottley, J. C. Searle, I5 Eev. Alexander Dyce, and G. P. E,. James, with Char j Kemble for chairman. Nearly one hundred plays W' j sent in, and the palm was awarded to a comedy call " Quid pro Quo ; or, the Day of Dupes," by Mrs. Gc. This was selected simply because it was considered li best of the lot, and not from any estimate of abstrt merit. It was coldly received by the public ; its shit dramatic life seconded but feebly the liberal intention'! the manager, and brought no reimbursement to :3 exchequer. On the 13th of June, ]\Ir. and Mrs. C. Kean select for their annual benefit Lord Byron's gorgeous tragif of " Sardanapalus." Such a revival immediately folk;- ing "Macbeth," and so totally distinct in character rl historical epoch, excited public expectation to 'e highest pitch. The manner in which all new pies had been produced at the Princess's invested e promise of " Sardanapalus " with unusual intere ; and never within the annals of theatrical histy was a promise more completely redeemed, or n expected enjoyment more thoroughly surpassed. W.n the curtain rose, we saw before us the restored palace ')f Sennaclierih in embodied reality; and within a V moments the stage became filled with the court :d retinue of the Assyrian monarch, who lived 2,'0 years ago, as exactly re-animated — " in form . d OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 57 jnoving as express and admirable" — as if the sculp- iures in the British Museum had stepped on to the boards of the theatre by the power of a magician's ^hsman. We copy the fly-leaf from the bill, wliich, is in the preceding case of "Macbeth," embraces a |)rogramme of the spirit in which the present revival iv^as conceived : — 1 i " In the production of Lord Byron^s tragedy of iSardanapalus,' I have availed myself of the wonderful tiiscoveries made within the last few years by Layard, )3otta, and others, on the site of the ancient Nineveh. it was during the latest excavations made by Mr. jjayard, in the south-east palace of the Mount of Nim- joud, that our illustrious countryman arrived at the jonclusion that this interesting structure was the work jif the son of Esarhaddon, who was himself the son of Sennacherib, so famous in sacred history. ' Although, jays Mr. Layard, ' no part of the history of this royal •)uilder has been as yet recovered, still there is every fcason to believe that this son of Esarhaddon was jio other than the Sardanapalus, who, conquered by the jiledes and Babylonians, under Cyaxares (b. C. 806), jaade one funeral pile of his jDalace, his wealth, and his jV^ives.' I "To render visible to the eye, in connexion with Lord pyron's drama, the costume, architecture, and domestic JQanners of the ancient Assyrian people, verified by the pas-reliefs, which, after having been buried for nearly |',000 years, have in our own day been brought to light, H'as an object that might well inspire the enthusiasm of I'ue who has learnt that scenic illustration, if it have the jreight of authority, may adorn and add dignity to the itoblest works of genius. i " I have humbly endeavoured to convey to the stage 58 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES i an accurate portraiture and a living picture of an age long since past away, but once as famous as our own country for its civilization and power, and more inti-: mately associated with the destructive wars of the; Jewish race than any other people. No pains have, been spared to present to the eye the gorgeous and striking scenery that has been so unexpectedly dug from the very bowels of the earth. The sculptures now in the British Museum have been rigidly followed ; anc when recent discovery has failed to give authority fo: minor detail, I have, wherever it has been possible borrowed designs from surrounding nations flourishing; at the same epoch. In decoration of every kind; whether scenic or otherwise, I have diligently sough! for truth ; and it is with some pride and satisfaction ':. am enabled to announce that a verdict of approval ha' been received from the judge (Mr. Layard) most compe tent to speak with decision upon the surpassingly inte resting subject with which I have had to deal. "It is liardly necessary to remind the reader, thr Assyria and the country beyond the two rivers, th Tigris and the Euphrates, constituted, if not actuall the cradle of mankind, at all events the theatre o which the descendants of Noah performed their firsj conspicuous part. The plains of Shinar witnessed m' only the defeat of that presumptuous enterprise whic scattered them abroad upon the face of the earth, bi also the exploits of the 'mighty hunter,' and tl triumph of his ambition, in the establishment of the fir monarchy recorded either by sacred or profane writers, " ' More than 2,000 years ' (says a modern writer, recording the marvellous results of French and Engli; discovery on the Assyrian plains) ' had Nineveh la in its miknown grave, when a wandering English sch lar, and a French savant, urged by a noble iuspiratio OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 59 sought tlie seat of the once powerful empire, and search- ing until they found the dead city, threw off its shroud pf sand and ruin, and revealed once more to an [astonished and curious world, the temples, the palaces, and the idols, the representations of war, and the triumphs of peaceful art, of the ancient Assyrians, ilhe Nineveh of Scripture — the Nineveh of the oldest jbistorians — the Nineveh, twin sister of Babylon, glory- ling in a civilization of pomp and power, all traces of ivvhich were believed to be gone — the Nineveh in which 'Lhe captive tribes of Israel had laboured and wept, was, after a sleep of twenty centuries, again brought to light. The long lost was found — the dead palaces were ex- iliumed — the strange, huge sculptures were dug out, and :heir inscriptions were deciphered. The proofs of ancient splendour were again beheld by living eyes ; and by the skill of the draughtsman and the pen of the imtiquarian travellers, made known to the world. Pa- iience and industry rescued from the earth these trea- sures of a long gone people, giving proof of a great iivilization existing in the earliest stages of the history of the human race.' , " It is a noteworthy fact, that, until the present mo- bent, it has been impossible to render Lord Byron's tragedy of ' Sardanapalus' upon the stage with proper dra- matic effect, because, until now we have known nothing of Assyrian architecture and costume. It is also deserv- ing of remark, that, interesting as the bas-reliefs which pave furnished such information are, they could not find jlramatic illustration but for the existence of the only l:ragedy that has reference to the period of which they ::reat. I consider myself fortunate in having been per- mitted to link together the momentous discoveries of one benowned Englishman with the poetic labours of another. I " Lord Byron having closely followed the history of 60 THE LIFE A\D THEATPxICAL TIMES Sardanapalus, as given by Diodorus Siculus, who hf erroneously placed the site of the ancient Nineveh c the banks of the Euphrates, I have ventured to alti the text where this mistake is made, and have given tl city its proper position on the river Tigris." The late discoveries on the banks of the far-fam( river having created for Assyria and its capital an m expected interest, Charles Kean, prompted by a tru classical mind, and an inborn love of historical illustr tion, seized upon the opportunity that presented itse while yet the newly imported relics were a topic general conversation, with the tact of a skilful genei and the taste of an accomplished artist. The subje and the time fortuitously harmonized. " Sardanapalu: had been acted at Drury Lane in 1834, under the m nagement of Mr. Bunn, on which occasion Macreai personated, the effeminate monarch. It was not one ' his happy assumptions. With the exception of t dream in the fourth act, his powers appeared to sluml ■ through an uncongenial part. There was some cor;- spondence as to the heroine being supported by M. Mardyn, a very beautiful woman, who had long retii i from the stage, but had never risen beyond an actress f moderate ability even when in her prime. Her nar , in earlier days, had been, in something of a qnestic- able shape, mixed up with that of the noble author, a I it was said that she had supplied the model from wh .1 he drew his fair Ionian slave. But the report of ]r re-appearance subsided into air, while the play itsf made little impression, and was withdrawn after a if unprofitable repetitions. The time for its success 1 production had not arrived. The coming disinterm' t of Nineveh within the next twenty years had cast ,0 shadows before, neither were the wonderful sculptures f I OF CHARLES KEAX, F.S.A. 61 the British Museum, the accumulated treasures of indi- vidual enterprise and sagacity, yet gazed upon by daily jmyriads. Lord Byron declared repeatedly, in conver- ' fsation, in letters, and in print, that his tragedies Avere ■act composed with the most remote view to the stao-e jthat they were neither intended for, nor suited to repre- ^ Mentation ; and exclaimed loudly against Elliston's im- ' Isolation of " Marino FaUeroy He even applied for ■ [m injunction to restrain future attempts, but without ■ 5uccess. Having served on the committee of Drury ' Lane, he was well acquainted with the managers and ' ictors of his day. He had no great opinion either of * :heir taste or discrimination, disliked to be fettered by I' ;heir caprices, and, above all, dreaded the ordeal of a " nixed audience. He may have been sincere to a cer- ' ;ain extent ; but we suspect there was both fencing and '' coquetry in some part of his objections. Why did he " sprite in the dramatic form, if he repudiated the legiti- '; nate exercise of that style of composition? The '"' bssential and characteristic ingredient of a play is action '—"Something," as Jeffrey says in the Edinburgh Review, " supposed to pass before the eyes of the '^ issembled spectators." We have known many dra- ^■' natic authors, but we never yet encountered one who "^ ;onsidered it a compliment to be told that his play was * nore fit for the closet than the stage — that it read better ':' :han it would act. He is almost as well pleased with '^l ,he qualifying distinction as an actor is when an influ- ■' Rntial critic calls his performance of a pet part, respec- " able. That a play should be written for the express " purpose of not being acted, sounds very like a pre- " jletermined contradiction. It seems almost as incon- ceivable as that a dinner should be cooked not to be aten— a song composed not to be sung — a book printed lot to be read — a coat made not to be worn — or a house fl ., 62 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES built not to be inhabited. Had Lord Byron lived to see '* Sardanapalus " placed on the stage as it was at the Princess's Theatre, he would have altered his opi- nion, and must have admitted, from proved experiment, that his tragedy contains all the leading elements ol dramatic success — action, dialogue, incident, interest, and catastrophe; not forgetting what he himself calls the " law of literature throughout the more civilized parts of the world," and still fondly cherished by a few rigidly classical enthusiasts — a strict obsei-vance of tht Aristotelean unities. He would have been taught, too that the tribunal he so earnestly prayed deliveranc(i from, is never slow to acknowledge the supremacy o genius, when clothed in appropriate garb, and attendee' by its indispensable auxiliaries. In spite of all that exploded bigotry and prejudici have attempted to set forth to the contrary, the stage^ a it presents a combination of the ornamental arts, wil ever, when properly administered, be considered the mos impro'V'ing as well as the most intellectual of civilize( recreations. We see there placed before us, in actus existence, the animated reality of what we can otherwis only become acquainted with through the cold mediur of description. The genius of the poet, aided by th executive talent of the actor, recalls the buiied ages c the past, and brings them in review before us wit a living reality which mere reading or relation coul never impart. We think profitably, and acquire usefi lessons in the study, but we live over again in ti theatre. " The di-ama," as Lord Bacon justly observe " is as a history brought before the eyes ; it exhibits tl image of things as if they were present, while histoi treats of them as entirely extinct." Plato wished th; virtue could assume a visible form. Dramatic repr sentation gives one both to virtue and to vice. It se OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 63 brth models for admiration and abhorrence ; and as ex- imple is better tlian precept, the moral thus presented [iffords the benefit of both at once. Manj who had taught themselves to believe, or had )een drilled into a conviction, that the modern stage is n a state of decline, and that we live under the lower pmpire of theatrical taste, began to dismiss their pre- lonceived notions, and to repent of a long-cherished iieresj, as they witnessed and felt the gradual effect of jhese unprecedented revivals. Where one person for- 'nerlj enjoyed the lights of knowledge, and admitted the impulses of refinement, a thousand now possess the ad- vantages which were denied to their grandfathers. But his general advance of education has added new difiicul- ies to the dramatic art. The appetite of the public is nuch more craving and more difficult to satisfy than it Vas fifty or even twenty years ago. The present age is [.minently pictorial, and in tlie embellishment of a play, [he most costly accessories are now indispensable which Ibrmerly were never required. Errors or deficiencies of iostume and general decoration, which in the days of ijarrick and under the management of the Kembles were i)assed without notice, are now watched and scrutinized i7ith the most jealous criticism. The very cavillers who [ry out upon superabundant ornament, would be the st to carp and exclaim if that salient object of their iei ensure should either be modified or withdrawnT) i " Sardanapalus," as revived by Charles Kean, com- jtrised a subject for reflective study, from which the most jareless spectator might derive profitable information and |nnobling thoughts. His own performance of the last tescendant of Semiramis was marked by the truth, jnergy, and variety which distinguish his ablest con- eptions. The Assyrian monarch is a sanguine vo- 'aptuary, without being constitutionally unfeeling or 64 THE LIFE AXD THEATRICAL TIMES effeminate ; a royal sensualist, who enjoys life while he dallies with death ; who rushes from the banquet-table to the battle-field with the careless gaiety of a disciple of Epicurus, and rises into a hero under the pressure of circumstances, without effort or parade. The terrible grandeur of his self-sacrifice would be incredible, nay, almost unnatural, did we not believe it to be trae.' In sociable qualities, and in good temper, he bears a striking resemblance to our own Charles II., while he soars far beyond him in inherent magnanimity. We! feel interested in his fate from the beginning ; he retains' our sympathy to the end, and we mourn sincerely overi his fall. We almost forgive his inconstancy to his: Queen for the touching kindness and self-reproaches oij their parting interview. i Myrrha, the Ionian captive, is a beautiful introduc-' tion, forming the chief charm and relieving feature o the drama. Utterly unselfish, and devoted to the Kin,c from personal affection, she uses her influence over hin for the most ennobling purposes, appearing more like ; guardian genius than an earthly lover, striving to wii him from his fatal course, while she soothes and adoni; its appalling close. The feminine softness and devotioi of the character, so heroically blended with Grecian prid and courage, were portrayed by Mrs. C. Kean with al her accustomed taste and nice discrimination. Mis Heath enacted the single scene, in which the Qxiee. Zarina appears, with dignity and feeling. Some frigi' critics have condemned this affecting episode as un necessary and inappropriate. In our humble judgmer we think it as opposite to both as language can express and if the excited feelings of an audience are to b admitted as evidence on the question, we can appe; to them strongly in support of the impression pre duced. The stern soldier, but faithful friend and subjec OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 65 klemenes, stood prominently forth in tlie hands of Mr. I'der, and formed throughout an admirable contrast t( the amiable thoughtlessness of Sardanapalus. Lord Iron himself imagined that the character of his regal h:o approached the comic ; a strange fantasy, for wich we profess ourselves unable to discover the slight- e; foundation. In the acting version of this noble drama all the snordinate parts were filled by careful and judicious nresentatives. Every line was distinctly and charac- tdstically uttered. The curtailments necessary to hng the play, as originally written, within reasonable aiing length, tended greatly to increase and condense it dramatic force. It is difficult to make selections from a hole so skilfully blended together ; but we may name tlee leading effects, as surpassing in truthful display ai^thing we had ever until then seen attempted on the stge: — the procession which introduced the entiy of Sfdanapalus, in the first act ; the banquet and dance irthe hall of Nimrod in the third ; and the con- fljiiration of the palace and city, which closed the fit. ihose of our readers who are acquainted with the miihanism of a theatre will readily understand that the la^ wonderful exhibition was produced more by artificial mms, than through the agency of real fire — an element to dangerous to employ to any extent. Many of the alienee, however, satin mingled admiration and teiTor. O.the first night, an old half-pay colonel, in the stalls, W[. overheard by his neighbour saying to himself, " ih ! hang it ! this is too much. Kean is going beyond th; mark this time — he will certainly burn the theatre den." He then looked round to observe the effect orthe assembled house, and continued — " There'll be a ish to the doors in a moment, and lives may be lost ; OL. II. F 66 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES but I sliall keep my seat, come what may, until they an all out." The insurance companies took the alarm, and sec their officers to make a strict investigation. Th mystery was explained to them, and on the ne^ night they were posted in a convenient corner of tt stage, from whence they could witness the entiij operation. But when the flames burst forth, the pil began to sink, and what appeared to be blazing raftei' and showers of fire descended from the roof of tl palace, they made a precipitate retreat, exclaiming th they were perfectly satisfied. \ The unusual attraction of the Assyrian tragedy stimJ lated a corresponding amount of the never-wantiil ridicule which dogs the steps of successful managemen according to the received London practice. Such opp( tunities are tempting, and not likely to be passed ov as long as the public encourage what it would be bet taste to condemn. Shakespeare's "Macbeth" a; "Merchant of Venice" had been very recently degracl to travesty ; why then should Lord Byron be spare? Two burlesques on " Sardanapalus " appeared witi a week of each other, at difierent theatres, whilst e original, at the Princess's, was in the first glow of its }- traction. The "Fly-leaf," again, was considered too g fl to escape, and furnished food for more extensive parcr. If there be any truth in spirit-rapping, and the d d are really cognizant of, and take an interest in the eve- day occurrences of the life they have left, we wish S' te specially-gifted medium would charm up Lord By a, and inquire of him how he feels as to the stage ti t- ment of his dramatic works. To the last hour of is existence, he protested against their being acted. 1 3n of " Werner," he said in the preface, " The who] is therein intended, nor in any shape adapted, for the sta ." OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 67 |e wish it were possible to ask liim, for what conceiv- ile reason a professed author dram{vti'^^sa,.p<5^ular ijvel, unless with a conviction of its/fitness for repre- Siitation. y A highly successful seaso^r at thfe Princess's termi- ited with the sixty-first representation of Lord Byron's ;igedy; which, on the re-opening in the following [tober, was again resumed, and continued for thirty- t'3 additional nights. During the season which ended 3 the 2d September, 1853, the " Corsican Brothers " 2iamanded fifty-five full houses. The only light Qrelty produced was a piece, in one act, entitled, '' hesterfieldThinskin" (an adaptation from the French, b Mr. Maddox), which came out in the beginning of ^gust, and ran to the last night. The total number Ojpieces acted, during a season of rather more than elven months, amounted to thirty. Of these, seven oiy, including the pantomime, were entirely new. Tree old farces, the " Spitalfields "Weaver," " Bom- b tes/' and " Deaf as a Post," were revived for Mr. Y;ight, who seceded from the company when the season ei!ed. "Black-eyed Susan" w^as played during a tlj3e-weeks' engagement of T. P. Cooke, before Christ- BQ^. We rejoice to see that this the truest representa- ti'u of the British tar of Nelson's day, who ever stepped fr,n the quarter-deck to the boards, is still rated on the tliatrical books, and has lately danced his inimitable hqnpipe, with as much vigour as he displayed when we fiit had the pleasure of his acquaintance — more years ^^ than we feel disposed to chronicle. Without envy- in him his activity, we sincerely v/ish we were able tomulate it. f2 68 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES CHAPTER IV. CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN MR. CHARLES KEAN AND MR. DOUGLAS JERROL — MR. BLANCHARD JERROLD's STATEMENT IN HIS FATHER'S LIFE — RE/ SONS FOR PUBLISHING THE LETTERS — THEIR TENDENCY AND RESULT-J INCIDENTAL OBSERVATIONS. During the year 1853, from April to October, an intei change of letters took place between Mr. Charles Keai and the late Mr. Douglas Jerrold, entirely confined 1' certain dramatic an-angements pending between therj and as yet imperfectly carried out. It was not intend^; in the present biography, to refer to this correspondenc or to the permanent hostility thereby engendered Mr. Jerrold' s mind towards Mr. Kean in his dout capacity as manager and actor. The matter had h& forgotten by the public ; Mr. Douglas Jerrold was dea and Mr. Kean would never have permitted any allusi^ to, or revival of the ungracious subject, had not J Blanchard Jerrold so unnecessarily (shall we add, ii prudently and indelicately?) raked up its ashes in Ij recent life of his father. In that work lie has thougl proper to republish a most virulent article from Lloyii disposition, — it falls not within the province stranger to dispute the fidelity of the picture, when, to complete this eulogium, facts and infer are assumed, hijm-ious to the character of another u- OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 73 tice casts aside reserve, and demands truth. The deal- ings of public men, in their professional capacities, are ' extensively canvassed and claimed as legitimate subjects • of discussion. Conclusions are often drawn from very imperfect information. If, in the present case, on a full statement, public opinion should be less favoui-able to his father's memory than Mr. Blanchard Jerrold may ■ desire or anticipate, he must remember that he alone ■ ihas evoked the subject, and has no one but himself to '■• Iblame for the result. A ; The writer of these pages, in speaking freely here and in other places, of Mr. Kean's thoughts and - opinions with regard to the transactions referred to, ■1 begs to have it understood explicitly that he was, a tod had been for many years, in daily, he may say a lin hourly communication with him. He knew every If itum of his mind, and reflected the impression of his ii jfeeKngs almost as faithfully as he retained them himself. ii I The " Correspondence" with Mr. Jerrold will tell its i'.i own story ; but a few preliminary observations are h >iecessary, to render the questions it involves suffi- sk piently intelligible. Two three-act dramas had been h jpurchased by Mr. Kean from Mr. Jerrold, in 1851 ; — the ['Heart of Gold," and " St. Cupid ; or, Dorothy's For- Di jtune." For each of these, 300/., the sum agreed on aii jaad been paid to the author on delivery of the respective I B manuscripts. It was intended that the first should take ;K! its due precedence in representation ; but it was mutually ivii Agreed, in consequence of incidental circumstances, that aai i;he order of acting should be inverted, and the second lii supersede the first. In the meantime (in April, 1852), jtf iMr. Jerrold proposed to Mr. Kean a treaty for a third irama. This Mr. Kean was unwilling to enter into, laving already two in hand, paid for but not acted. In jjiij Jie course of the conversation, Mr. Jerrold stated that 74 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES he was urgently in want of money, upon which M" Kean at once adopted his views, and advanced him IOC on account of the suggested play. This sum Mr. Jerro] afterwards considered as a loan, and repaid with tl accruing interest on the 28th of April, 1853. It has been seen that the comedy of '•' St. Cupid having been previously played at Windsor Castle 1 selection of her Majesty, was produced at the Princes? in January, 1853. It was well received and frequent repeated, but, as a commercial venture, the manag found himself out of pocket to a large amount, withe including the purchase money. Early in the year pi ceding, 1852, Mr. Douglas Jerrold, in addition to ] literary connexion with Punch, had become the avow, editor of Lloyd's Weekly Newsjpa'per, one of the mi; extensively circulated publications of the class in 1'^ metropolis. That paper had always, in its tlieatriil criticisms, expressed the most flattering opinions of IL C. Kean in his professional capacity ; and the frien(7 spirit suffered no change under the new editorship mil tlie progress of the correspondence now to be produci. Nothing could be more complimentary than the articis on the " Trial of Love," " Anne Blake," and other lis important novelties. Of "Macbeth" we find ts notice, on the 20tli of February, 1853 : — " ' Macbeth,' played at the Princess's on Moni j night, is a marvellous triumph of scenic and mechijc art. We shall not attempt to describe all its glories, 11 its scenic effects. We would as soon endeavour \:h pen and ink to paint a rainbow on our paper, or to |/e the glowing colours of a cameleon. Suffice it, that is a magnificent triumph for the management, and ill reward Mr. C. Kean with golden opinions, and — "vat he may think quite as good — golden assets." l; i OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 75 ^ Of Sardanapalus, in the paper of tlie 12tli of June, a 'more elaborate panegyric runs thus : — * " That one performance gave us a better insight into the manners and habits of the Assyrians, than a whole ^ 'lifetime has enabled us to acquire of the French. It was a grand lesson of animated geography; and the more curious, as being the animated geography of a nation that is dead. Mr. Charles Kean has been the noble teacher on this occasion, and he cannot be praised too highly for the generous spirit in which he has carried out and illustrated his pleasant teaching. He has done his work like a magician. With his managerial rod he has made Nineveh spring out of the pages of Mr. Layard's monumental book, and to become endowed with all the awe and grandeur of the living thing. He has built a new empire upon the stage ; the result is something to remember for life. We have never seen anything so perfect on the modern stage, and it cer- tainly is a great honour to the theatre that has produced it ; an honour that has not only been honourably gained by the prodigality that has been showered, as profusely as the golden shower of fire in the last scene, upon its production, but likewise by the refined taste that, aided by Mr. Layard, has presided over it. Two great qualities manifest themselves throughout — the feeling of a poet, and the pocket of a prince ; and we need not say how rarely it is that you meet with either the one or the other, much less a combination of the two, in a manager now-a-days. To finish, it is a joy to us to confess that, for many years to come, ' Sardanapalus ' will be a beautiful picture to hang up in the long, dreary halls of our dramatic recollections ; a beautiful picture we shall always be able to look back to with increased pleasure." 76 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Those who are curious in such matters, if they turn over the pages of Punch of about the same period, or a little later, will find this identical picture grossly caricatured by the same hand, which may supply them with materials for profitable meditation; and in Lloyd's of September the 11th, 1853, the earlier opinion of " Macbeth " assumes an altered tone, difficult to understand without a clue : — "Macbeth has been reproduced at Sadler's Wells, with all the original effects of 1847. These are the same effects which Mr. C. Kean made such liberal use of last season, for his version at the Princess's. They are in every respect as effective as the latter, and have the still further merit of being produced the first." In a subsequent article, on the 6th of November, we find this general summary : — " Play-going at the Princess's is sight-seeing, and nothing more ; and a visit is invariably accompanied by the ennvi that accom- panies sight-seeing." The current in Lloyd's Weekly Neiospaper began to turn into the hostile channel after the notice on Sardanapalus in June, and very speedily settled down into unmitigated invective. The squibs and caricatures in Punch had taken long precedence ; but as Punch lashes everybody and everything, Charles Kean had, at least, the satisfaction there of being ridi- culed in good company. A notice of Mr. Blanchard Jerrold's book, in John Bull, of February 26th, 1859, says : " The abuse of Mr. Kean (in Punch) was marked (if we are not mis- taken) by a character of malevolence quite alien from the ordinary tone of dramatic censure. In fact, Mr. JeiTold's attacks on Mr. Kean had commenced long before this, w^hen the former was a contributor to the OP CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 77 Morning Herald, and the latter was just rising into fame as an actor of mark. They commenced, too, immediately after a play of Jerrold's had been declined at the Haymarket Theatre, in consequence, as he con- jectured, of Mr. Kean's repugnance to undertaking one of the characters in it."* Having now cleared the way by explanatory notes, we proceed to introduce the correspondence : — " To Douglas Jereold, Esq. " 3, Torrington Square, " 26th April, 1853. "My dear Mr. Jerrold, — " I have been expecting, according to your promise, to hear from you respecting the Nautical Drama we talked about. It is now nearly twelve months since I advanced you 100?. in anticipation of a new piece, and I am naturally anxious to ascertain that something is in progress. I wish the drama to be in my possession before the close of the present season ; and feel satisfied that the subject is one that, with the aid of your genius, will prove successful. Eequesting an early reply, " I remain, " Yours very truly, " Charles Kean." " To Charles Kean, Esq. " Circus Road, St. John's Wood, " 26th April, 1853. " My dear Mr. Kean, — " Our arrangement for another drama had no refer- ence to a ' Nautical ' drama ; that was an after-propo- * There is a mistake here. When Mr. Kean was acting at the Hay- market and long before he had any idea of entering on management, Mr. D. JeiTold proposed to him to purchase a play of his, called (we beheve) the " Spendthrift," which Mr. Kean declined. 78 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES sition on your part, that I thought had wholly passed away with the late Easter. Nevertheless, our original agreement I will, at your wish, fully cancel. My thoughts have reverted to the first subject, which shall be, or shall not^ as you elect, " If you think the nautical drama available, I shall, notwithstanding, be very glad to give my notion of the matter to a gentleman who, I believe, would do full justice to the subject. " Yours sincerely, " D. Jeerold." " To Douglas Jeerold, Esq. « 27th AprU, 1853. "My dear Mr. Jerrold, — " I do not quite understand your reply to my note. It is perfectly true that you suggested to me a subject for a two-act drama about a twelvemonth since, when you asked for an advance of 100/. I immediately let you have that sum, at no small inconvenience to myself, as you stated you were at the time much pressed for money ; without entering into any very detailed understanding with you respecting the piece, beyond the fact that you were to accomplish it during the theatrical vacation, which portion of your agreement, I need not remind you, was not fulfilled. Having at the time in my possession two three-act pieces from your pen, for which I had paid you the full amount, namely, 300/. for each, it stands to reason I did not then require a third, and was only actuated by a kindly feeling and a desire to oblige you. " When I applied to you on the subject of a nautical . drama, not having heard a word from you -in the interim, on the original subject named, I did so, intend- OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 79 ing this should be m lieu of the one first mentioned. You now tell me that you will either cancel the original subject, or go on with it, as I may wish ; and at the same time infer that you decline writing the nautical piece. " Handing over the subject in question, as you now propose to do, to another author, is of course not to be thought of. If I wished another to undertake the work, I could find that author myself. I wish your aid for the nautical drama, which, if carried out as we agreed upon, I feel would have much more attraction than the subject originally proposed by you. I am quite willing to avail myself of your ofi'er, and cancelthe original understanding. If you will, however, finish (as you promised to do) the nautical drama in three acts, intro- ducing the stage efi"ects we talked of, I will give you an additional 200l to the lOOZ. you have already received. If this arrangement does not meet your views, you will oblige me by returning the 100/. I have advanced. Let me have your answer without delay ; and believe me, " Yours truly, " Chakles Kean." " To Charles Kean, Esq. " 26, Cii-cus Road, St. John's Wood, " 2Stli AprU, 1S53. "My Dfi:AR Mr. Kean, — '■' Herewith I return you the 1001. advanced last April, I think, within a day or two of the present date. Under the circumstances, and to make the matter a purely commercial one between us, you must permit me, in deference to my own self-respect, to add to the 100/. the twelvemonth's interest, at five per cent. It is very true, that, desiring to comply with your wish, so earnestly expressed, I did waive the subject upon which you advanced the money, and consented, with no plea- 80 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES sure to myself, for I have had enough of nautical pieces by which fortunes have been made by others, and com- paratively twopence-halfpenny by your humble servant ; nevertheless, I did consent to handle oakum once more for the Princess's. But this arrangement, as I have said, passed away into thin Easter air with your new Easter drama. My thoughts have since been occupied with the previous subject, However, no harm is done. I might, were it permissible to a writer, a mere writer, to complain about anything, I might, perhaps, venture a slight murmur of disappointment, that my first drama, written for your first season, remains unacted in your third. I might complain, but will be dumb as an oyster, and nevertheless " Yours truly, "Douglas Jerrold." " To Douglas Jerrold, Esq. ; i " 3, Torrington Square, . " 2Sth April, 1853. "My dear Mr. Jerrold, — " I beg to acknowledge the receipt of your cheque for 105?. in return for the 100?. I advanced you last April, the additional 61. being interest for the same. " Of course I have no answer to make to your remarks concerning ' the fortunes that have been made by others and the comparatively twopence-halfpenny by you,' on account of your former nautical pieces, beyond reminding you that my ofier was 300?. for a drama of the kind, being the same sum you have j^i: asked and received from me, for a three-act play and a three-act comedy. " In reply to your concluding remarks, that you might perhaps venture a slight murmur of disappoint- ment that your first drama, written for me, had not yet mv P OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 81 "been acted, you must permit me to remind you that you were put fully in possession by me of the unfor- tunate position of affairs between * * * and myself; and appeared from your tone, not only to sympathise with me, but also to appreciate the motives that induced me to put it aside. Indeed, as you well knew at the time, I had no alternative. " Afterwards, it was at your own express desire that *St. Cupid' should be brought out first, should I be fortunate enough to have it selected for representation at Windsor Castle. " I cannot but feel that you must have forgotten our various conversations, or you would not now urge against me a complaint which has no foundation in justice. " I have endeavoured to do all in my power that is i right and kind by you, and if I have failed in con- : veying that impression to your mind, I can only express i my very great regret. " Truly yours, " Charles Kean." " To Charles Kean, Esq. , " 26, Circus Road, St. John's Wood, " 29th April, 1853. "My dear Mr. Kean. " Pray believe me that I make no complaint what- ever of the postponement of the piece during your junction with * * *. It was necessary, and I felt that you were hardly placed. But, when we parted at the conclusion, or some time before the conclusion of last season, it was certainly my impression that you proposed to open the present season with the first drama. Something mocks my memory, if you did not on that VOL. II. G 82 THE LIFE AXD THEATRICAL TIMES occasion observe, — ' then you'll have tioo pieces next season.' But let this pass. Your offer for the nautical piece is liberal ; and it is bj no means of your terms I should think to complain. What I mean is, the recollection of the scurvy treatment I received where the largest success accrued to others, makes nautical dramas particularly repugnant to me, though I should certainly have written the piece for Easter ; and for thi? simple reason, I had promised to do so. Your arrange ments took another form. " For myself, in this matter, I part in perfect gooc temper ; for, as I have said, there is, I hope, m harm done. " Yours very truly, "Douglas Jeerold." " To Douglas Jeerold, Esq. " 3, Toirington Square, " 30th April, 185 "My dear Me. Jereold, — " You are, so far, quite con-ect in stating that it wa at one time, my intention to commence the presei season with your drama. Afterwards, however, whc * St. Cupid ' had been selected for representation at tl Court Theatricals, I suggested to you the policy of alio-*;, ing that comedy to be first performed at the Princess'l as any previous production of yours in the same seas(| might, in some degi-ee, mar the eclat which woull under the unprecedented circumstances, probably atteifl^ ' St. Cupid.' You perfectly coincided with my opinio! and expressed your desire that ' St. Cupid ' should V first performed ; therefore what has been done receiv . your sanction and approval, and you surely are rt justified in the complaint you have made against n. In answer to what you state respecting ' the nauti'l OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 83 drama," it is perfectly true that, when I first sub- mitted the matter to you, it was with a view to Easter ; ibut in an after conversation between us, while sitting itogether on the bench adjoining Massingham's Office, it was agreed to relinquish the original intention with jegard to Easter (for various reasons which I need not |now enumerate), and you left me with a promise that iyou would write me a drama on the subject named. I was certainly impressed with the feeling that it was as much a bargain between us, as if there had existed a wi-itten contract to that effect. " Yours truly, " Charles Kean." " To Charles Kean, Esq. " 26, Circus Road, St. Jolin's Wood, " May 17th, 1853. "My dear Mr. Kean, — " Will you favour me by letting me know if it be your intention to produce my play of the ' Heart of Gold ' next season. " Yours truly, "Douglas Jerrold." " To Douglas Jerrold, Esq. « May 18th, 1853. "My dear Mr. Jerrold, — " In all our business transactions I have never failed to consult your wishes, and am equally disposed to do so now. Tell me explicitly what you desire irespecting the ' Heart of Gold," and it shall be carried out in every point, if practicable. " Yours truly, "Charles Kean." To this letter Mr. Jerrold sent no reply. g2 84 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES " To Douglas Jeeeold, Esq. ♦' August 24th, 1853. "Deae SlE, " As I infer, from your late correspondence with me, that you are anxious your play of the ' Heart ot Gold ' should be produced without delay, I have deter- mined, whatever may be the inconvenience to myself, to make it one of the earliest novelties of my nest season. " As we close on Friday week, 2d September, i- will be necessary that the drama should be read, anc the parts distributed, before that date. " In the absence of Mr. Wright, who leaves mj theatre, I purpose giving the part of Michaelmas to Mr Harley ; Mrs. Walter Lacy will play Molly Dindle ; Mr. Ryder, the part of John Dymond ; and the rest o ■ the characters will be cast according to the ability c' ; the company. " Perhaps you will so far oblige me, as to name th. day (Saturday excepted), on which you will read th, piece. ' " I remain, yours faithfully, "Charles Kean." *' To Charles Kean, Esq. " 26, Circus Road, St. John's Woe " August 25th. , " Dear Sie, — " Probably I may be enabled to relieve you of n drama of the ' Heart of Gold.' To the cast you pr pose I cannot consent. In the event of finding anoth theatre, are you disposed, the money being repaid, return the drama to " Yours faithfully, "D. Jerrold." I OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 85 " To Douglas Jerrold, Esq. " 25tli Augnst, 1853. 'Dear Sir, — " I vnW meet your wishes, and immediately retm-n he play of the ' Heart of Gold,' if you will refund lie 300?. I have paid you for it. "I do so uncler the conviction that no good can iccrue to any party concerned in its production at my ;heatre, where a hostile and malicious feeling exists, on ;he part of the author, towards the person and manage- nent of the man to whom it is entrusted.* " As I quit London on the 3d September, perhaps ,roTi will be good enough to acquaint me with your deter- nination respecting the re-purchase before that date. " Yours faithfully, " Charles Kean." " To Charles Kean, Esq. " August 30th. Dear Sir, — " I do not return to London until the end of 'f September. I will then, should I find my drama iivailable elsewhere, of which I have little doubt, re- )urchase it of you. Of course, you cannot forget that [rou applied to me to write the piece. I never sought \lou; the parts were written for Mrs. Kean and yourself, ind accepted with much laudation. After three seasons ^ou propose a most damaging alteration of cast'^ du Dreak your compact. Be it so. " And now, dear Sir, as to ' the hostile and malicious eeling' you attribute to me as regards your ' person * This is in reference to the re])eated attacks made upon Mr. C. vean in Lloyd's Weekly Newspwper and Punch. They must be read to i i»nvey an understanding of their fiill virulence. l\ 86 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES and management,' I can believe that your habits may , not enable you to perceive the ill manners and the ( injustice of such an unsupported imputation. Neither ' hostility nor malice exist in me towards you or your ' doings. You would probably think it very rude in me were I, because you have broken faith with me, to stigmatize you as a person vain, capricious, unstable in his agreements, with a festering anxiety to consider every man his mortal enemy, who is not prepared to acknowledge him the eighth wonder of the habitable world. " I feel almost certain that you would think this( very rude in me. Therefore, be more chary of your imputations of malice and hostility towards " Yours faithfully, " Douglas Jekrold. To Douglas Jerrold, Esq. " Auirust 31st, 1853. " Dear Sir, — " I wish to pass over that portion of your lette (received this morning) intended to be offensive, an« confine myself to saying that, throughout our transao tions, I have acted towards you with all the kindness liberality, and consideration in my power, which I fea yom' unfortunate nature is not capable of appreciating.! " Your personalities do not in the least surprise mt for you have taught me to expect them. Did I desen' the opprobrious epithets you have bestowed upon m character, I fear I should not be worthy of that ' respe' from the respected' which I have throughout life end voured to gain, and which I have reason to believei now enjoy. " You are quite right when you assert that /sougj OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 87 you in the first instance. No one has a higher estimate than myself of your talent, and the 'Heart of Gold' was written in consequence of my expressed desire to possess a play from a man of your genius and celebrity. It is quite true that I have had that play by me for three seasons. It was not acted during the two first seasons, as you already know, from the unfortunate dis- lagreement between me and ^ ^ *, " During the present season, you will remember, you were put aside only for YOURSELF. When you wrote the comedy of ' St. Cupid,' you sought me, because at !the time you wanted money, which I at once advanced. (And to suit your interest, quite as well as my own, it !was determined betiveen us that ' St. Cupid ' should itake the place of the 'Heart of Gold' (which was then about to be presented) and be acted first. In our ! third compact, which you afterwards thought proper to ! break, you again sought me, because again you wanted ! money, which / again at once advanced. A year elapsed, and you had not written one line ; you declined fulfilling your agreement with me ; and the money I .had last advanced, namely, lOOZ., was returned to me with 51. interest. jj i " To meet your evident desire that the * Heart of g iGold' should be brought out without any further delay, [{ 1 1 purposed making it the first novelty of the ensuing 5, [ season, and the scenery was already in progress. I J i cannot understand the damaging alteration of cast of ff i which you complain. I never contemplated withdraw- jjing Mrs. KeanJ^ from Maud; Mr. Harley is cast the ^ \ character you expressly wrote for him ; and when I |j , mentioned Mrs. W. Lacy, you appeared perfectly satis- - I fied with her for the maid. The only alteration, then, is the substitution of Mr. Ryder for myself as John . [ Dymond, which, in theatrical parlance, is a rugged, "li THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES ler IS heavy character, and an elderly man. Mr. Kyde good actor, and certainly a favourite at the Princess's, while in other parts he seems acceptable to you. I cannot, then, see what serious damage you can imagine the cast sustains by the simple removal of an actor whose value you are ever endeavouring to depreciate. I never expressed any partiality for the part of Dymond, for I do not think it suited to me; but would very willingly have done my best with it to have satisfied the views and wishes of a popular and fn'endl/j author ; although I see no reason why I should in the slightest degree inconvenience myself for one who studiously seeks occasions to indulge in unprovoked hostility towards " Yours faithfully, " Charles Kean. " I quit London for the Continent on Saturday, and shall be happy to hear from you respecting the re-pur- chase of your play, on my return in October." " To Douglas Jerrold, Esq. " Royal Princess's Theatre " 11th October, 1853. " Dear Sir^ — "Having returned to London, I am anxious ascertain if you are now prepared to carry out yoi own proposal of re-purchasing the ' Heart of Gold. Your answer will oblige " Yours faithfully, " Charles Kean. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 89 " To Charles Kean, Esq. " 26, Circus Road, St. John's Wood, " October 12, 1853. "Dear Sir, — " My proposal to re-pnrcliase the ' Heart of Gold' was, as you will perceive, ^\JiXQ\j provisio7ial. I have beset no manager with any communication on the matter ; and from the aspect of the British theatre in 1853, I see no likelihood of any very successful issue from the representation of the play elsewhere. I can only wish that the time bestowed upon it had been em- ployed on any other composition, that would have borne, as it might, immediate results. Any way, in the present condition of the London stage, I cannot give any further attention to a matter that has been productive only of annoyance and disappointment to " Yours faithfully, " D. Jeerold." " To Douglas Jerrold, Esq. " Royal Princess's Theatre, " Oct. 13th, 1853. « Dear Sir,— " Your letter of yesterday's date has required me to refer to our correspondence, in which you volunteer the proposal of re-purchasing your play of the ' Heart of Gold.' In yours of the 25th of August last, you say, ' Possibly I may be enabled to relieve you of my drama. In the event of finding another theatre, are you disposed, the money being re-paid, to return the drama?' And again, on the 30th August, you write, * I do not return to London until the end of September ; I will then, should I find my drama available else- 90 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES where, of which I have little doubt, re-purchase it of you.' '• From these two communications I naturally con- cluded you had some arrangement in immediate view. You are scarcely likely to find a purchaser, unless you looked for one ; and if you have ' beset no manager' with any communication on the subject, I confess I do not see how any manager could know yon had such an article to dispose of. There are two points in your letter I am unable to understand. First, how the aspect of the British theatre in 1853 can have changed during the short interval of seven weeks, which has elapsed since you made your first overture to me on the subject. And, second, whether your expression, ' I see no likeli- hood of any very successful issue from the play else- where,' is intended as a compliment to my particular theatre, or as an oblique condemnation of the insuffi- ciency of all theatres. Having paid you 300Z. down on delivery of the play, in my humble judgment the ' im- mediate results,' as far as your interests are concerned, have assumed a tolerably substantial form. Mine, I regret to say, are for the present in rather a dim per- spective ; and the delay has been principally occasioned by your own proposal, which, I now understand, you find yourself utterly unable to carry out. " I am, dear Sir, yours truly, " Charles Kean." " To Chaeles Kean, Esq. " 26, Circus Road, St. John's Wood, " Oct. IStli, 1853. ■ " Deae Sie, — " I have little to add to my last. Should an oppor- tunity present itself, promising a fair production of my drama elsewhere than at your theatre, I shall most gladly . OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 91 cany out my first provisional intention of rc-purcliasing the play. " Considering that you are the person who has, origi- nally, broken faith in the matter, it is I who have the right of complaint, for procrastination and final disap- pointment. I have only to repeat that 1 did not seek you, and am heartily sorry that you ever addressed yourself to •' Yours faithfully, "D. Jereold." " To Douglas Jerrold, Esq. " October 14th, 1853. " Dear Sir, — " My reply to yours, of this date, shall be comprised in very few words, and will, I sincerely hope, close our correspondence. Argument having failed, you seem disposed to retire on personalities. There I confess my inability to engage, and must decline to follow. " I most emphatically deny ever having ' broken faith' with you. This is a chimera of your own creation, — an imaginary disappointment, — which I think you will find it very difficult to substantiate beyond mere assertion. You say you are ' heartily sorry that I ever addressed myself to you.' The balance of regret ought to weigh heavily on my side ; as, on looking over my books, I find I have paid you 600?. for two plays (one as yet unacted) ; and that sum is considerably under the loss I sustained by ' St. Cupid.' " Yours faithfully, " Charles Kean." 92 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Before closing the subject, we have yet a remark to make on Mr. Blanchard Jerrold's book. At page 11 of his preface, in reply to some communications sent to the Press, an American paper, by a London con-espond- ent, he says : — " Then the American public is informed that Douglas Jerrold was * down' upon Mr. Charles Kean, in Lloyd's WeeMy Neicspajjer, till his death, because he conceived that Mr. Keau had purposely contrived the failure of the ' Heart of Gold.' The fact is that, after this piece was produced, my father never wrote a line about Mr. Kean or his management in the said newspaper." Mr. Blanchard JeiTold's memory has sadly failed him, or he would have scarcely ventured this strong assertion. We cannot expect our readers to waste their valuable time by wading through the heavy columns from November, 1854, to April, 1857. We supply them with an index to save that trouble.* They will there find abundant evidence that the series of notices on Mr. Kean and his management was continued, whenever the production of a new piece supplied the opportunity, in the same strain, and carrying internal evidence, which cannot be mistaken, of proceeding from the same pen. A denial of the latter inference Avould amount to a transparent quibble. There are the articles, to speak for themselves, inserted by Mr. Douglas Jerrold in the paper of which he was the sole editor. He is as much responsible for their paternity as if they stood acknow- ledged by his signatm*e at full length. * See LloycCs WeeJcly Newspaper, Nov. I2th, 1854 ; Jan. 14th, 1855 Jan. 21st, 1855 ; Jan. 28th, 1855; Feb. 4th, 1855; March 18th, 1855 April 15th, 1855 ; May 20th, 1855 ; May 27th, 1855 ; June 10th, 1855 July 8th, 1855 ; July 22d, 1855 ; Aug. 31st, 1856 ; Oct. 19th, 1856 Oct. 26th, 1856 ; Nov. 9th, 1856 ; March 15th, 1857. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 93 All well-wishers to the stage may probably regret that a dramatic author should ever combine the apparently incompatible functions of a dramatic critic. If his play be rejected or ill received, not being able to retort on the public, the manager presents himself as a ready scape- goat on whom to vent with pen or influence the over- flowings of his disappointment. The case under dis- cussion presents a remarkable instance. For years, Mr. Douglas Jerrold avails himself of a two-fold public channel, entirely at his command, to undermine as far as his power extends Mr. C. Kean's professional reputa- tion, to cry down his most successful efforts, and to hold him up to ridicule and contempt. But when Mr. C. K.ean, after long forbearance, privately defends himself for the satisfaction of his friends, he is charged in the coarsest terms with a departure from the courtesies of refined society, and the meanness of violating the confi- dence of lionourahle minds. •fe We have stated the facts : the commentary we leave to the public. 94 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES CHAPTER V. FOURTH SEASON OF MR. C. KEAN'S MANAGEMENT AT THE PRINCESS'S— SARDANAPALUS CONTINUEDWITH TJNCEASING ATTRACTION — SHERIDAN'S COMEDY OF THE RIVALS — THE LANCERS, ADAPTED FROM THE FRENCH, BY CAPTAIN L. VERNON A MODERN FASHIONABLE DRAWING-ROOM — ARTICLE IN A WEEKLY PAPER, ON THE WINDSOR THEATRICALS — STATE- MENTS ANSWERED— LARGE SUMS PAID FOR ORIGINAL DRAMAS LONG AND SERIOUS ILLNESS OF MRS. C. KEAN — PANTOMIME OF THE MILLER AND HIS MEN — REVIVAL OF KING RICHARD HI. COLLEY CIBBER'S ALTERATIONS — GREAT DIFFERENCE OF OPINION ON THIS POINT — REA- SONS FOR ADOPTING THE ALTERED PLAY — RESULT NOT SATISFACTORY — SUPPOSED CAUSES — MARRIED UNMARRIED AWAY WITH MELANCHOLY, AND A STORM IN A TEA-CUP — MAGICAL SPECTACLE OF FAUST AND MAR- GUERITE MR. C. KEAN's MEPHISTOPHELES FROM VILLAGE TO COURT— THE COURIER OF LYONS PRODUCED FOR MR. KEAN'S BENEFIT — HIS PER- FORMANCE IN THE DOUBLE CHARACTERS OF LESURGUES AND DUBOSC — CLOSE OF THE SEASON — NUMBER OF PIECES PERFORMED — MELODRAMA ' AND HIGH TRAGEDY. The fourth .season at the Princess's commenced or Monday, the 10th of October, 1853, with " Sardana- palus," which appeared to have lost none of its attrac-^ tion. The okl comedy of the " Rivals " was revived,| and with tlie beginning of November the performances were varied by the production of a highly interesting drama, in three acts, entitled the " Lancers ; or, the Gentleman's Son," freely adapted by Captain Leicesteil Vernon, M.P., from the " Fils de Famille," of Monseii Bayard, performed dm-ing the preceding year wit! unusual success at the Gymnase, in Paris. This piecf was acted for forty-nine nights, and gave universa atisfaction. Nothing could be more complete than i OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 95 fac simih of a modern drawing-room, which was repre- sented in the second act, on a stage principally filled by subordinate actors. It is not easy to marshal a mimic army on the boards, to go through the evolutions of a battle, to arrange a triumphal or civic procession, or to produce the trained confusion of a mob of rioters ; but it is far more difficult to present a full company of ladies and gentlemen arrayed in fashionable attire, and moving with the ease of polished society. It is a curious fact, in the peculiarities of acting, that in private theatricals, where the performers are chiefly drawn from the aristo- cratic circles, civil or military, the break-down generally occm-s with the representatives of the high classes, who become stiff and awkward when required to assume theatrically what may be termed their natural attri- butes. Amateur low comedians, such as Jem Baggs or Bill Mattock, are more plentiful than Rangers, Boricourts, or Miraleh. The eccentric Lord Barrymore was inimitable in the ignorant vulgarity of Scrub, but failed when he attempted the airy elegance of Archer. The altered tone of Mr. Douglas Jerrold's mind, in i j regard to Mr. C. Kean, had for some time manifested 0! I itself in a series of depreciating sneers, and insinuations, f I through the ready medium of the two papers before [j(. I named. On the 13th of November, 1853, he opened a ;(] j direct attack (the immediate occasion for which presented jtj i itself in a recent performance at Windsor Castle). An (ij! 1 article in Lloyd's WeeMy Neivspaper contained these ti passages, under the head of " THE GREAT KEAN MONOPOLY. " The Kean monopoly has been broken through. ^Ir. Phelps performed 'Henry the Fifth,' at Windsor Castle, on Thursday last. He has been the first to find a north- ffli I west passage to the palace. The passage once found, i 96 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Others uiaj quickly follow. The difficulties of the pas- sage no one can conceive, but those who have had to steer through the immense blocks of ice which Mr. Charles Kean has thrown in the way of his brother managers He has used this privilege for the glori- fication of himself as an actor and a manager, until the Queen and the Court have been brought to believe that there was but one English actor, and but one English theatre ; that actor being j\Ir. Charles Kean, and that theatre being the Princess's !!.... We hope a dramatic commission will be issued from Windsor Castle (and how proud we shall be if we are nominated to sit upon it !) to inquire into the following questions : — " How far the patronage bestowed upon Mr. Charles Kean has benefited the drama ? "How often he has allowed other managers to perform? — and the number of times those managers have per formed in comparison with Charles Kean? " To inquire how often Mr. Phelps has performed at Windsor Castle, before Thursday evening, Novembei 10th, 1853? " To discover the names of the other tragedians whc have played at Windsor Castle, by the kind permissioi and favour of Mr. Charles Kean ? " To ascertain, if possible, the number of original piece Mr. Charles Kean has produced since he has been i: possession of the patronage of the court ? " On the other side, to ascertain the number of revival' adaptations, and more particularly translations, whic Mr. Charles Kean has produced during the sam period ? "To find out the sum of money, if possible, which M Charles Kean has paid to living authors for the er com*agement of the drama, since he has been manag' r of the Princess's ? : OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 97 "On the other side, to find out the sums of money which My. Charles Kean has paid to translators for the iiscouragement of ditto, during the same period ? " To investigate the principles, if any, of Mr. Charles Kean's management? .... And lastly to state the extent of injury which the English stage would suffer, land whether it would be more weak and ailing than it already is, if Mr. Charles Kean were to lose to-morrow sthe lucrative situation which he at present holds at Court, of ' Wet Nukse to the British Drama ? ' " If the above commission is issued, we should like ot all things to be present during Mr. Charles Kean's ex- jamination. In the meantime, Mr. Phelps has broken i jup the great Kean monopoly ; and the monopoly now 'broken, we hope that henceforth dramatic free trade will [ jreign at the palace in its stead. The actor's loaf and , (the author's crust (for where the former gets a loaf the Hatter only gets a crust) both depend upon it." j; I On reading this article it is difficult to decide whether ilj /disrespect to the Court or animosity against Mr. C. Kean constitutes the prominent feature. A string of I (assertions and inferences such as we find here lie beyond ;(! the scope of argument ; their value can only be tested ibj facts. How do the facts stand in the case before us? g The evidences of printed bills and authenticated accounts „: ipresent them as follows : — Previous to his performance of \Henry the Fifth at Windsor Castle, Mr. Phelps had ^.,,1 .appeared there in the characters of Francesco Agolanti, in -i, Leigh Hunt's " Legend of Florence," in Hubert ( •' King ,jj j John " ) , and in the sick Kitig, in th e second part of ' ' Henry Ithe Fourth." When " Henry the Fifth " was proposed, iljby the Court, as one of the Windsor plays, during the ^jjseason of 1853, Mr. Kean was asked to represent the hero. He remarked that he had never yet acted the part, but that Mr. Phelps had, and suggested the pro- VOL II. H 98 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES priety of its being committed to that gentleman. The suggestion was acceded to. Mr. Macready, i\Ir. Van- denhofF, and Mr. James Wallack had also been included in the casts of "Julius Cassar," "Hamlet," and " Charles the Twelfth." Up to the date of Mr. Douglas Jerrold's article, thirty-two dramatic pieces had been performed; eleven of these before Mr. Kean became a manager. Nine were supplied from the resources of his own theatre ; the remaining twenty-three chiefly from the Haymarket, the Lyceum, Sadler^? Wells, and the Adelplii. Mr. C. Kean had himself performed clever times, Mrs. C. Kean eight, l\h: Webster seven, Mr. C Mathews five, Mr. Keeley ten, and Mr. Buckstom three. The power and patronage so emphatically dc nounced by Mr. Douglas Jerrold, consisted, as far as Mi. C. Kean was concerned, in carrying out the Avishes am: views of his illustrious employers ; the lucrative monopol in the disbursement of a large sum of money. Mr. Kea volunteered his gratuitous services as manager, whic were graciously accepted. He might venture respec fully to name a particular performer or play if aske to do so ; but no reasonable person will suppose for moment that he could presume to step beyond th point ; his functions were to obey and not to dictat When an opportunity offered he exercised the permissii of suggesting, as in the special instances of Mr. Phel for Henry the Fifth, and Mr. Douglas Jerrold's pL of " St. Cupid," which, through his earnest recommer • ation, received the stamp of court favour before it \a! submitted to the public. But notwithstanding this, 1:; play proved, in a commercial sense, a failure. li " actor's loaf " and the "author's crust" changed e relative value, which Mr. Jerrold assigns to them ; ie former being represented by the Algebraic figure - ^minus) to the amount of something like 800^. ; the la jr exemplified by + (plus) 300?. i OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 99 ; Leaving the topic of the Windsor pLays, the points so broadly insinuated in other portions of the article are ■equally answered by simple _^cte. i During his three years of management, Mr. C. Kean ■ ihad accepted and paid for nineteen original dramas, of : iwhich fifteen had been already acted, with eleven adajj- < tations or translations. The Shakespearean revivals ' amounted to nine. For the original pieces he had paid '• 3,685/. ; for the adaptations and translations, 1,135Z. ; total ■ [4,820/. Of this large amount, 600/. had been received :' for two pieces by the writer of the article, who publicly : called upon Mr. Kean to show "the sum of money, if y possible, which he had paid to living authors for the f encouragement of the drama, since he had been manager >i lof the Princess's?" Within two seasons after the date £ Ito which these particulars refer, Mr. Kean paid nearly f l2,000/. more for costly novelties which were seldom pro- li' jductive. Such experiments cannot be repeated ad in- i Ifiniium. They enforce their ow^n termination, by the «' |most coercive of all arguments — a heavy balance on the iti. [wrong side of the ledger. fe[ [ With the commencement of 1 854, the arrangements of \^ [the season received an important check in the serious !' illness of Mrs. C. Kean, which occasioned the substitution 1 • of Miss Murray for her part of Myrrha in ' ' Sardanapalus, ' ' h !and necessitated a total change in the general plan. For i} la long interval of nearly eighteen months, the public «: llamented the absence of one of their greatest favourites, iti jwhile her husband, losing her invaluable co-operation, fe ifelt himself placed in the position of a leader deprived of . ihis right arm. i i The pantomime on the old familiar subject of the u: I" Miller and his Men," proved to be one of the most iiiK lattractive that had been brought forward of late years. iefciSome original and highly effective tricks transported H 2 100 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES from Paris produced an extraordinary sensation. The value of a good pantomime trick in these days, if entirely j new, is equal to that of a virgin nugget. On ^Monday, the 20th of February, 1854, "Richard the Third" was revived with great splendour. In this instance ]\Ir. C. Kean departed for once from his system of a pure restora- tion of the text of Shakespeare, and adopted the long- sanctioned amendments of Colley Gibber, It was a difficult point on which he deliberated maturely before coming to a decision. Shakespeare's tragedy, under tlie title of the " Life and Death of King Richard the Third," had been essayed at Covent Garden on the 12th of 3Iarch, 1821, the principal character by Mr. Macready. It was coldly received, and a single repetition, on the 19th, wound up the experiment. Something was gained in the restoration of Queen Margaret of Anjou* and Clarence's dream, but more was lost by the want of con- densation in the latter portion of the play ; while tht impeachment of Hastings so long pilfered by Rowe, in hi; " Jane Shore/' fell flat from being already too familiar. Mr. C. Kean's reasons for preferring the altered versioi were set forward as follows, in his fly-leaf : — "It is now a general conviction, that to do justice o the stage to the immortal productions of Shakespear( they should be represented, as closely as possible, i conformity with the ascertained text of the poet; and i the Shakespearean revivals which have taken place i late years, at more than one theatre, a laudable ende.' vour has been made to keep this salutary object invie"s If a departure, then, from a rule which it behoves evei true lover of his art to follow with loyal fidelity, occu * Mr. Phelps subsequently retained Queen Margaret, and IMiss Gl played her very effectively. OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 101 it any time, some apology or explanation would seem iue to the public for the rare exception. I " In selecting the play of ' King Richard the Third,' 1 i lave, upon mature consideration, decided on adopting the well-known version of CoUey Gibber, instead of going back to the original text of Shakespeare. That text has been practically declared by the greatest ornaments of ' Ithe drama, less fitted in its integrity for representation on jthe stage than almost any other generally acted play of the great poet ; whilst, on the other hand, the tragedy, 1 las modified by Gibber, being rather a condensation than ' [an alteration of Shakespeare (the interpolations them- iselves being chiefly selections from his other plays), has been pronounced one of the most admirable and skilful [instances of dramatic adaptation ever known. David jGrarrick made his first appearance in London, in 1741, in [ [Colley Gibber's version of ' King Richard the Third ; ' and Henderson adopted the same play; the classical John Kemble followed deliberately in the wake of his great predecessors; and to these succeeded George Frederick Cooke, and my late father, Edmund Kean. With such ; distinguished precedents for my guide, I might well Ihesitate in reverting, on tlie present occasion, to the lOriginal text, even if their judgment had not been sanc- = tioned by the voice of experience, and were it not also - ja fact that the tragedy of ' King Richard tlie Third,' as ' [adapted by Gibber, is most intimately associated with the ■« traditionary admiration of the public for those renowned « tand departed actors. A " There may be a question as to the propriety of tam- *f "pering at all with the writings of our bard ; but there can be none that as an acting play, Golley Gibber's ver- sion of ' King Richard the Third,' evinces great dramatic judgment, and a consummate acquaintance with scenic '' ieiFect. To be convinced of this, it is sufficient to glance 102 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES at the skilful arrangement of the fifth act ; and there can be no doubt, that a careful comparison of the original and the altered tragedy, left no choice to the masters I have named, who were naturally anxious to present the work in the most striking and spirit-stirring form before the eyes of the spectator. " In the production at this theatre of ' Sardanapalus,' ' Macbeth,' and ' King John,' I have selected different periods of history for illustration, and have endeavoured to an-ive at every available authority, with the view of i transferring, as far as possible, to the stage, a living and pictorial embodimenTof the past. ' King Richard the Third' affords a new epoch, distinct from all the fore- going, and I have taken the same pains to give propeif scenic and decorative effect to this most busy and event-: ful chapter of our annals. " The following authorities have been consulted :— ' Meyrick's Ancient Armour,' 'Col. C. H. Smith's Ancien Costume of Great Britain,' ' Planche's unpublished worl on the Costume of Richard HI.,' ' Strutt's Dresses anc Habits of the People of England,' ' Fairholt's Costum^ in England,' ' Fosbroke's Encyclopaedia of Antiquities. ' Dugdale'sMonasticon Anglicanum,' ' Shaw'sDresses ani Decorations,' ' Stothard's Monumental Effigies,' ' Frois sart's Chronicles,' ' Pugin's Glossary of Ecclesiasticf Ornament and Costume,' and the Herald Office." " Richard the Third," in its new form, ran only nine teen nights, a short career and a very limited succei for a great Shakespearean revival at the Princess's. Tl; result was disappointing to the manager, and unexpectf ' by his admirers. Where was the cause of this cor parative failure to be sought for? Not in the acting, f it was loudly applauded by the audience, and eulogizi warmly in the leading papers. Mr. C. Kean had wi OF CHAllLES KEAN, F.S.A. 103 i much of his early Londou reputation in the " Crook- , backed Tyrant," and his performance now, as might be iexpected, was far superior to what it had been in 1838, : .and 1841. The whole action of the play centres in : j Richard. He is the pivot on which every movement turns ; an Atlas who can-ies the entire weight on his shoulders. : ! Seldom absent from the scene, his controlling agency ;: (pervades the collected (Zya««« the south side of Oxford Street, halted suddenly ; if a barrier had arrested its progress at that point. cases penetrated to the north. This singularity \s been even more strikingly exhibited in India. regiment on the march, with the two wings divided { a ravine, has been stricken on the one bank and not >16, she appeared at the Hay market, and subsequently removed to the Olympic ^-no the Surrey, under ElHston and T. Dibdin. At Olympic, she acquired notice by her performance the (Joiiniess cf Lovtltv,^, in " Eochester." and at Surrey surpassed 3Irs. Egerton, the original J/« Wildfire, by the superiority with which she warbled wild snatches of songs interwoven with the part. In 1S2 she married 3Ir. Edward FitzwiUiam, a comic actor vocalist, who left the stage in 1S45. and died, in 1 In 1832, !Mrs. FitzwiUiam assumed the helm of man: ment at Sadler's WeUs, and t*x)k her farewell bene there in 1839. She then visited America tor a year, on her return engaged at the Haymarket. She left W hind her a son and a daughter. The former, a mnsicfi composer of rising fiime, died prematurely. The lately filled an important situation in the theatre so graced by her mother' s abilities, iirs, FitzwiUiam was an artist in the school of Jordan and ^Sliss Fanny KeUy ; — a school which has a representative in 3Irs. Keeley. The four presei succession which seems likely to terminate with the lij ins^ inheritress. The line embraces chambermaids a' OF CHAELES KEAX, F.S.A. 115 country simpletons, impudent boys, Englishwomen of humble rank, -whether BerioiLs or comic ; and includes in all, the fascinating accompaniment of artless, unoma- -'--nted songs and melodies naturally introduced, and ■rrative of the character to -which they are attached. xLie death of Mrs. Fitrvrilliam was followed -within a fortnight by that of Mrs. Warner, which occurred, \ :2-h from a very different ca-use, on the 24th of - -^mber. She had long suffered under a most painful ar.d incurable malady, which prostrated her powers and rendered her incapable of acting for nearly a year and a half. Her last appearance in England was at Sadler's WeUs in August 1851, where she represented Mrs. ': 'y for her o-wn benefit. She then went to America, played with all the success that could be desired, -_ indications of cancer compelled her return to un- jj an operation. Again she -visited New York, but rapid increase of her disease rendered acting impos- '.-. and, in the spring of 1853. she returned home, a ^less invalid. From this period to the date of her -'n.. she bore the most excruciating agony -with sur- ing fortitude. Her Majesty the Queen warmly in- -ted herself in the case, and allowed her the use of a -iage. Her friends exerted themselves to raise a fimd - her support. Mk. C. Kean, through her personal -laence, obtained by far the largest subscription, 1 /anting to 4051., 501. of which was contributed by -. Kean and herself, This money was invested and ■ 1 in weekly proportions up to the day of Mk. War- - 5 death. On the occasion of some judicial proceed - . i which took place in the bankruptcy court in Decem- .. 1853, the judge asked how the poor lady had been ported during the affliction of her long illness- By ; exertions of many kind friends, was the answer, T-j-rioning the names of the parties, but those of Mr. -, Mrs. C. Kean were not even alluded to. The omis- i2 116 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES sloii might have been accidental or intended. In eitlier case it was extraordinary. Mrs. Warner was endowed with great personal beauty, and powers of a high order in the delineation of matronly heroines. Her best parts were Lady Macbeth^ Queen Katharine, Hermione ("Win- ter's Tale"), Emilia, in "Othello," and the Queen, in " Hamlet," which latter she performed at the Windsor theatricals in 1849. Her name will ever remain asso- ciated with that of Mr. Phelps in the honourable exne- riment of converting Sadler's Wells into a Shakespearean theatre. The announcement on the opening-night. May i 27th, 1848, contained this passage: — " Mrs. Warner and Mr. Phelps have embarked in the management of Sadler's Wells Theatre, in the hope of eventually rendering it what a theatre ought to be — a j ])lace for justly representing the works of our great dramatic poets. This undertaking is commenced at a time when the stages which have been exclusively called ' national ' are closed or devoted to very different objects from that of presenting the real drama of England, and when the law has placed all theatres ^ upon an equal footing of security and responsibility leaving no difference except in the object and conducl; of the management." On this occasion, Mrs, A^^arner delivered an opening address, written by Mr. T.' J. Serle, and sustained Lady^ Macbeth, to the Macbeth of Mr. Phelps. Fifteen years have since elapsed. The persevering energy of jMr Phelps has crowned the enterprize so boldly commencec in an unpromising locality with permanent success. The season at the Princess's commenced on Monday the 9th of October, with a new comedietta, in one act by a young author, Mr. A. C. Troughton, entitlec " Living Too Fast; or, a Twelvemonth's Honeymoon.' It was .•;niinently successful^ and has held its place on tli - OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 117 stock list with uncliminislied popularity. The writer has since produced other pieces of a more important character, and has improved on his early promise. But the chief feature of the opening night was a drama, in three acts^ by Mr. Douglas Jerrold, called " A Heart of Gold." [This play, as we have mentioned in a preceding chapter, had been written for, and purchased by, Mr. Kean, prior to the acceptance of " St. Cupid," but by mutual agree- ment the order of respective production was reversed. ^our years rolled on ; actors left the company, others supplied their places, and important changes took place, interfering materially with the original arrangements. The characters in "A Heart of Gold " were confined to omely life ; there was no possible relief or aid to be supplied from show or pageantry, but there was some- thing inherently dreary and uncomfortable in the plot, incidents, and final development. The general tone of lotice in the papers implied, under kind expressions, an ivident feeling that the work was below the standard of :he author's reputation. The public confirmed this )pinion by such a dull reception and slack attendance ;hat the play was withdrawn after the eleventh repre- sentation, in consequence of deficient receipts. It had seen most carefully rehearsed ; new scenes were painted ; md all the performers discharged their duty loyally, dthough the author, in his disappointment, laid much of he failure to their account. On the 6th of November, the " Heart of Gold " was iucceeded by a novelty of very opposite cast — a grand nilitary spectacle, adapted by Mr. Palgrave Simpson, rom a piece then playing in Paris with great success, riie subject suggested itself from the political occur- ences of the hour. Schamyl, the warrior-prophet of Jircassia, had long been considered the delegated hero f the east. The liberation of his country from Russian 118 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES thraldom, through his agency, was as confidently looked for on the opening of the Crimean campaign, as the capture of Sebastopol by a coup de main, the carry- ing of the fleet at Cronstadt by our gallant admiral's sharpened cutlasses, or the consequent conflagration of the docks and arsenals at St. Petersburgh. All these fondly indulged chimeras are, we doubt not, long since catalogued in the regions of the moon, as additions to the roll of miaccomplished events, examined by Astolfo when he ascended thither on his hippogriff in search' of the lost wits of Orlando. The spectacle, however, which cost enough to keep a small principality for a twelvemonth, ran only twenty- three nights, and then died of sheer exhaustion. It helped, nevertheless, to fill up the time before Christmas, when the pantomime, on the subject of " Bluebeard," raised the somewhat stagnant feeling of the play-going public. An amusing incident occurred during one of the re- hearsals of " Schamyl." A particular scene represented a cataract, above which, at a considerable elevation from the stage, a raft had to pass, occupied by three or fou] persons, one erect, and the others in stooping or recum- bent positions. A considerable delay occurred. Mr Kean, who superintended the rehearsal, called loudly t( demand the cause. No answer. " Why does not th< raft come on ? " Again no answer. The questior being reiterated, one of the actors, who should hav been at his post, at last appeared from the back of th' stage, and exclaimed with excitement, "The raft i unsafe, sir ; it would endanger a man's life to venture oi it! , I really cannot incur such a risk." Some furthe discussion then arose, interrupted suddenly by a loui burst of applause from all who were looking on. Thi was occasioned by the appearance of the raft passin. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 119 steadily across with Mrs. Kean standing in the centre, occupying tlie position of the apprehensive remonstrant. We need scarcely say he was silenced by this eloquent reply. Mistakes had been committed, and unexpected diffi- culties assisted also to mar the earlier part of the sea- son. Up to this date, Mr. Kean had only appeared in the three melodramas of the " Corsicau Brothers," "Faust and Marguerite," and the "Courier of Lyons," varied after Christmas by one or two occasional per- formances of "Hamlet," the " Stranger," and the " Iron Chest ;" but on Saturday, the 13th of January, he burst on the town with renovated strength in a new drama of high legitimate nature, being an English adaptation by Mr. Dion Bourcicault, of Casimir De La Vigne's cele- brated historical tragedy of " Louis the Eleventh." This play commanded sixty-two repetitions, and silenced all pertinacious denials of Mr. C. Kean's hardly won pre-eminence as the leading tragedian of the day. Even the most determined opponents at length yielded up their prejudices to the public verdict. During his long practice of twenty-eight years, he now for the first time stood before his judges in an original part of first-rate importance. The play has acquired a cele- brity from his representation of the principal character, which calls upon us to dwell a little on the work and the writer. "Louis the Eleventh" was produced at the Theatre Fran9ais, in Paris, as far back as February, 1832, and by many French critics was held to be the master- piece of its author. Casimir De La Vigne, it will be remembered, died towards the end of the year 1843, aged only forty-nine. He was a prolific writer, and one of the most popular of the modern poets of his country. Noble and inspiring sentiments are embodied in his 120 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES verses ; liis characters, particularly when taken from history, are drawn with fidelity, severe truth, individual precision, and graphic distinctness. He never alters a portrait, which flattery might soften and render more agreeable by keeping in the background, or subduing altogether, prominent but repulsive features ; and he seldom suffers liimself to be seduced into the substitu- tion of mere grace and elegance in place of the vigorous thought and strong sentiment which, though less pleas- ing and attractive, are better calculated to leave a lasting impression on the mind. In more than one respect, he is worthy of a comparison with Corneille. He has the same clear, consecutive reasoning, and a fair portion of the similarly remarkable faculty of condensing much meaning into a small compass. Wliy a dramatist pos- sessed of this ability, and enjoying such an exalted reputation in his own country, should not have been more frequently introduced to the London boards, is a question which naturally occurs, and may be answered by a reference to the many obvious points of distinction in national taste, and to the various experiments by which it has been proved, that because a given play has met Avith great success in Paris, it by no means follows, as a corollary, that it must have the same good fortune in London. Contrary instances are ready in abundance. English managers, on the other hand, are often accused of want of patriotism, or of defective judgment, in run- ning too readily to the foreign market for the supply which may be found, of a superior quality, and to any extent, at hoiue. A glance at the res gestce of the leading London theatres for the last three or four years, or any other selected period, will show that much of this charge is unjust- -that indigenous talent has not been set aside unfairly or indiscriminately — that original authors have not been too modest to ask, or managers too niggardly I OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 121 IC to give, large sums for original plays. But the publ are capricious, and do not always accept the bill thus drawn and endorsed ; in wdiich case, the contracting party who buys is in an infinitely worse predicament than he Avho sells. The former has probably paid something considerably over the usual price for what comes recom- mended under an established name, which looks imposing in an announcement, but in a commercial sense often turns out to be an empty myth. After one or two failures at home, success steps in from abroad. In fact, the French beat us systematically, in plot, construction, and what is universally understood by the term coups de <^a^re— dramatic effects. One English writer may be an imaginative poet ; another,, a stern moralizer ; a third, rich in epigram and satire ; a fourth, an able sketcher of character ; a fifth, a pungent humorist, and so on. But all these qualities count for little unless they are united with a knowledge or perception of practical effect. We do not mean such mechanical contrivances as a trap- door or a sliding panel, a ghost or a demon, surrounded by blue or red fire, in every scene. The ingredients we consider as indispensably requisite, are passion, action, and varied incident. In the dramatic development of these agencies, our continental neighbom-s generally leave us behind them. The French poet has worked the pith of his play al- most entirely into the single character of the King. Whether this plan of a grand historical drama is sound in principle, is a question open to critical inquiry, on which very opposite opinions may be delivered ; but that it demands from the actor who is called upon to embody such a conception of his author, a gigantic combination of mental and physical attributes, is an evident fact, which establishes itself without argu- ment. Louis XI. was essentially a wicked and re- 122 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES morseless tyrant. His reign presents a complicated tissue of crime and hypocrisy, unvaried by a single act of mercy, a solitary impulse of affection, or an excep- tional access of human feeling. He lived in terror, and died in despair. There is an awful lesson to be extracted from the terrible events included within the sixty years of his existence on earth, and during one third of which he was permitted to scourge his fellow-men by the exer- cise of unlimited power. Louis, as presented in Casimir De La Vigne's play, is drawn exclusively from history. No heightened colouring is superadded from poetry or iniagination. The novelist here is not suffered to dis- tort the true character of the monarch. Comines has depicted him with rather a lenient hand. He forgot, or pardoned, the outrage which obtained for him the cog- nomen of tete hottee. Other authorities have been less warped or delicate, and all the hideous features of his character are so familiar by description, that when reading of him, we feel the presence of the demon-man in terrible reality. In Sir Walter Scott's romance of " Quentin Durward," he is pleasant, sometimes almost amiable, and exhibits human sympathy in two or three instances. In the hands of the French dramatist, he never unbends, I never relaxes for a moment from his constitutional ! hypocrisy, his bigotted superstition, his bloodthirsty ' tyranny, his doubts of every one, and his overwhelming ; dread of death and futurity. Louis of Valois was not i naturally a coward, for he had given proofs, at least of passive valour, when he fought at Mont L'Hery ; of cool ; self-possession, when he voluntarily placed himself in the power of Charles of Burgundy, at Peronne; and of > confidence in his personal resources, when he cajoled Ed- :; ward IV. of England, at Amiens, and turned aside by i agile diplomacy the most dangerous invasion that had threatened France since the days of Cressy, Poictiers, i OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 123 and Agiucourt. The whole character, like Richard of Gloucester, his contemporary, is a compound of opposites and antitheses. He was, at the same time, trustlVd and suspicious, hoarding and wasteful, audacious and timid, mild of bearing and given to unbridled bursts of passion, soft of speech and relentless of heart ; a violator of every oath he pledged, a breaker of every treaty to which he subscribed his name ; a scoffer at religion, while lie bent in terror before leaden images of saints ; and to wind up all, the first French monarch who bore the title, long continued by his succesors, of " the most Christian King." To reconcile the play as much as possible to the clas- sical unities, which are still reverenced in France, when what is understood by the "regular drama" is con- cerned, M. De La Vigne has crowded together incidents which took place at long intervals, and ends with the death of Louis, represented as immediately follomng that of Charles the Bold, although seven years actually interposed between the two events. The sequence of incidents is most ingeniously contrived, and except to a rigid chronologist, the anachronisms are imperceptible, and may be excused. The careless spectator, who sits to be entertained, without deep research, will not readily detect where the true chain of history is broken, and reality superseded by fiction. The characters include Philip de Comines, the pliant biographer ; Tristan rilermite, the formidable provost-marshal ; Olivier le Dain, the barber-minister; the amiable Daupliin, after- wards, and but for a short reign, Charles VIIL ; and the devout ascetic, Francois de Paule, who practised in his own person the severe self-denial he recommended to others. There are also Jacques Coitier, the king's physician, who holds his life in his hands, the only living being he dare not do without, lest he should die 124 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TOILS for lack of help in liis disease and guilt ; and Marie, the gentle daughter of Comines ; and the fiery Nemours, her betrothed lover, thirsting for the blood of his father's murderer, and ready to lay dowm youth, life, love, and ambition, on the altar of the ]\Ioloch of revenge. These, with a group of peasants, compelled to act joy while quaking with terror, make up the list of characters. The English adaptation, which is skilfully managed, and conveyed in easy, flowing language, follows the original with accuracy, differing only in one material point at its termination. In the French play, the pardon of Nemours arrives too late. He is executed ; and thus the crimes of Louis receive a posthumous addition, as his solitary act of penitence is too tardy to be availing. In stern moral and poetical justice, as regards the arch criminal, the catastrophe may be justified ; but as a question of which leaves the most satisfactory impression on the audience, public opinion was decidedly in favour of the change. Of the effect produced by Mr. Kean in the character of Louis the Eleventh, it is more than difticult to convey an adequate description. We do not recollect anything to compare with it in recent times ; nor can we name any theatrical performance, it has ever been our fortune to witness, so totally free from blemish or objection ; sustained with such uniform power, relieved by so much variety, and altogether presented to the judgment of the public as a picture of such brilliant colouring and masterly filling up in all its different shades. Many lingering and obstinate cavillers were totally converted by this great achievement. The enthusiastic feeling of the house on the first night reminded us of the excite- ment we had witnessed during the best days of his father's Othello. Even when the play was over, and he lay dead before the audience, they trembled lest he OF CHARLES KEAX, F.S.A. 125 should start up again, and work fresh mischief with the revivified influence of a ghoul or a vampire. Mr. Kean is not, in "Louis the Eleventh," as in the "Wife's Secret," supported hy his accomplished partner, in a part of dramatic strength and interest superior to his own. The play wants the controlling charm which attaches to a prominent heroine. There is nothing here to assist the single actor ; he must create his levers for himself. The character of Louis is so far beyond sym- pathy, so utterly repulsive, that in the hands of a coarse or clumsy artist, it would he unendurable. The secret of the true effect lies in the relief and variety ; and the knowledge of these grand arcana marks the distinction between mediocrity and excellence. Herein lie the mystery and mastery of genius, whether exemplified by the painter, the poet, or the actor; and in the management of these resources, always thrown in at the critical moment, and in the right place, as a skilful general arranges his reserves, Mr. C. Kean carried his audience completely along with him, and swept away objections which a monotonous manner would have ren- dered fatal. The character, as he wielded it, became as plastic as the clay in the hands of the modeller, and, with every slight movement, presented a new feature. Look- ing to the past, we cannot readily select any actor of former days who could have competed with the living representative. Great requisites they had, but seldom or never so many combined ; — the quick, piercing eye, the flexible intonation, the expressive features, the compact, manageable figure ; the rapid action ; the varying conception ; and the same extraordinary facility of depicting the weakness of age, the exhaustion of physical pain, and the gradual approaches of death. On this occasion the press echoed the decision of the public, with scarcely a dissentient voice. " Louis the 126 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Eleventh" was acted for sixty- two nights during the first season of its production, and has ever since continued one of the most attractive plays on the permanent list. ]\Ir. Kean received many congratulatory letters, written by judges whose testimony was valuable, and from which the following are selected, without order of date : — From Colonel the Hon. Sir Charles Phipps, K.C.B. " Buckingham Palace, " Feb. 20th, 1S55. *' My dear Kean, — " I wished very much to have seen you last night, but I could not leave my two young ladies without a chaperon. I wished to have told you, whilst my admi- ration was boiling, how admirable I thought your per- sonification of Louis the Eleventh. I consider it the finest piece of acting that I have seen in my experience. I can understand the possibility of the passionate scenes being equalled jijer7m^:>s, magnificent as they are. But the way in which you managed to identify your mind with the double character you had to porti-ay, is to me an excellence in art which is wonderi'ul. There appeared to be no look, no gesture, no tone of voice, that was not that of a cruel, cowardly old man. Anyone who knows you in private life must feel hoio much of art there must be in this. You have known me often a sincere critic ; you will, I am sure, believe in the truth of my admiration. If I had time I would go much into detail upon this piece of acting, which kept my cheeks burning with excitement, whilst my lower man was, like the King's, in the ' Arabian Eights',' marble from the cold. " I may tell you that the opinion of your performance is equally high upon the part of my royal mistress and OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 127 master. Remember me kindly to Mrs. Kean. I hope she keeps well, " Sincerely yours, '" C. B. Phipps." From Samuel Warren, Esq., M.P. " 35, Woburn Place, Russell Square, "19th January, 1855. " My dear Sir, — " Permit me to thank you cordially for the un- bounded delight which you afforded all my family last night, by your splendid representation of Louis the Eleventh. They hardly know how to express themselves, such is the sort of infatuation with which you have filled them ; and they will not hear of my returning to chambers this morning before I write to say how gi-eatly they are obliged to you This is Term-time, and my evenings are uncertain ; but it shall go hard if I do not, in a day or two, find myself in the stalls. I am most impatient to go ; and to such a piece as that of last night, infinitely prefer going alone. " I hope you will allow me to present you and Mrs. Kean with a copy of the new edition of " Ten Thousand a Year," which I have rigorously revised throughout. " I am, my dear Sir, " Yours, very much obliged, " Samuel Warren." " Sir F. Thesiger and his family were there last night." From W. Farren, Esq. " Jan. 23d, 1855. " My dear Sir, — " I return you a thousand thanks for one of the greatest entertainments I have (as an old actor) expe- rienced for years. The best opinion I can give of 128 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES your performance of Louis the Eleventh, is to reiterate the criticisms of my friend the Critic. Wishing you many years of health to repeat such representations, I have much pleasure in signing myself " Your sincere admirer, " William Farren." From Miss Isabella Glyn. "13, Brook Street, Grosvenor Square. " My dear Sir, — " Indeed I highly value your kindness in affording me the opportunity of witnessing your rare performances as often as I can. Work will soon preclude me from that enjoyment very often, so I at once avail myself of your generosity and ask for a box for next Friday. If last Friday was not one of your grandest nights, what then must you be when self-pleased ! You were great. We all felt very distressed about that noise, for I know how deeply hurt you would be by it ; but you soon lost us to all but your wonderful powers. I have not a doubt but that the seeming coldness of the audience arose from an inability to applaud you. Your intensity is really terrible. I felt white with excitement, and caught myself holding by the chairs, grasping tightly for comfort, for I could scarcely breathe, and could not applaud until I was enough recovered to remember you were acting. I could write pages on every part of your great work. But your entire dying scene, how true and affecting it was. That crawling to the crown with no physical power, but with a deadly yet real energy, makes my flesh creep now only to think of it. I am reluctant not to dwell on this longer, but must cease to intrude upon your valuable time, and patience too, as I fear I do. " Yours, very obliged and admiringly, " Isabella Glyx." OF CHARLES KEAN. F.S.A. 129 From Mrs. Howitt. " The lienuitage, Highgate Rise, " Jan. 23rd. " My dear Mr. Kean, — " You are quite prepared, I am sure, to hear that we were delighted, last night, by your new character, for you must yourself be aware of its extraordinary [power and elaboration. We were astonished, for it exceeded our expectations, and we expected a great jtreat. It was unquestionably one of the most wonder- fully conceived impersonations that was ever given. There is no halting in it, it falls short in no way of the perfection of nature, and one's very blood runs cold at :he realized villainy, hypocrisy, and cowardice of the character. It is a master-piece in your hands, and we congratulate you not only on your success, but on the I aossession of such creative power. •' We longed to say as much to you last night, and have shaken hands with Mrs. Kean, wliom we saw |>n the other side of the theatre, but she was not in her ^: )ox between the acts, nor after the play, and we would lot miss a single word. However, receive our thanks or a very great pleasure, and with our united regards? you both, " Believe me, my dear Sir, " Yours sincerely, " Mary Howitt." From Samuel Lover, Esq. " 43, Denbigh Street, Warwick Square, " 25th Jan., 1855. My Deae Kean, — '' Though you must by this time be almost weary of ludation of your Louis the Eleventh, I cannot resist the ' VOL, 11, K 130 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES pleasure of thanking you for the intellectual enjoyment your performance of Saturday last afforded me. In con- ception most artistic ; in execution masterly. May many more such triumphs lie before you. " Yours faithfully, " Samuel Lover." From J. Palgrave Simpson, Esq. " 9, Alfred Place West, Thurlow Square, Brompton, " 15th Jan., 1855. " My dear Mrs. Kean, — " I called at your house yesterday in the hope of seeing you, but to my disappointment I heard that you were all gone out. Perhaps I ought not, however, to say ' disappointment,' since the fact convinced me that Mr. Kean was not so much exhausted as I feared he would have been from his tremendous exertions the previous day. Pray present him, Avhat I could not give by word of mouth, my heartfelt congratulations upon the triumph he has achieved. I am pleased to find that such papers as I have seen, coincide entirely with me p. in the sentiment that his performance was one of the greatest histrionic displays ever witnessed on the English stage. 1 myself am enthusiastic about him. I have scarcely yet recovered from my state of over- excitement and the intensity of emotion which the performance produced upon me. You know my extreme fond- ness for the stage, and you may' guess with what gratification I witnessed acting in which it is impossible to find one movement that does not completely sym- pathise with one's own feelings ; impossible to see eatre, anything but perfection. I wish my opinion could be \h[\ worth, in your eyes, what that of many better and jiable higher men must be, that I might give my return to jMr. Kean for the great, great gratification he has afforded Ittbt OF CIIAHLES KEAN, F.S.A. 131 ne. One reason for my wishing to see you was, to ask hether you or Mr. Kean liad any commands for Paris, or which place I start to-mori'ow evening, per mail rain. If I can do anything, will you please let me now. With kind regards to Mr. Kean and very wish for your joint success and prosperity, " Yours very sincerely, " J. Palgrave Simpson." The success of " Louis the Eleventh " established a Bcisive period in Mr. C. Kean's career as an actor. It was so remarkable for the winding up of a determined oppo- tion, which had hitherto accompanied every new play reduced under his management. A small knot of ene- ies congregated together on all these occasions, and took )st in different parts of the theatre, acting by signals ider preconcerted arrangement. Whenever the great ijority of the house applauded, they intermingled the ke of disapprobation, and frequently marred the effect the most telling passages by premeditated noises, so I^eniously contrived as to appear accidental. The est points of the finest acting may be destroyed by a iigh or a sneeze, thrown in at the exact moment, as ectually as by the virulent hiss, which cannot always ventured with equal safety. During the run of Richard the Third," the practice was so apparent, and evidently against the feeling of the audience, that . Kean, accompanied by his acting manager, waited Sir R. Mayne, with a view to the adoption of pro- tive measures. The police officers on duty in the atre, declared their conviction that a conspiracy doubtedly existed, but so organized that they were ble to detect it. When the individuals thus engaged that they were under surveillance or had become loxious to the public generally, they never showed k2 132 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES front, but immediately left the theatre or remained silent for the rest of the evening. After the second or third repetition of " Louis the Eleventh " they finally dis- appeared, either from exhausted funds or in despair of canying their object. These matters may appear unin- telligible to those who have never had occasion to fathom the full extent of personal pique or jealousy. In the present instance, " Imputation and strong circumstances WMch lead directly to the door of truth," point to the suspected parties ; but in the absence of positive proof we abstain from the most remote inference. They know themselves, and may be assured that they are known. This remark can offend none but those who are conscious of its application. " Qui capit, ille facit.^' OF CHAKLES KEAN, F.S.A. 133 CHAPTER VII. A GAME OF ROMPS — THE MULETEEK OF TOLEDO — HOW STOUT YOU RE GETTING REVIVAL OF SHAKESPEARE'S KING HENRY THE EIGHTH, AND RETURN OF MRS. C. KEAN TO THE STAGE — CRITICAL REMARKS ON THE PLAT AND PERFORMANCE — MR. C. KEAN'S CARDINAL WOLSEY ; MRS. C. KEAN's queen KATHARINE — UNPRECEDENTED ATTRACTION, AND RUN OF ONE HUNDRED CONSECUTIVE NIGHTS — ACTING SUPERIOR TO PAGEANTRY — PUBLICATION OF HENRY THE EIGHTH, WITH PREFACE AND NOTES— RE- STORED SCENES AND NEW STAGE ARRANGEMENTS— CONDENSATION OF THE FIFTH ACT — END OF THE SEASON — DIFFICULTIES SURMOUNTED CONCLUDING REFLECTIONS AND GENERAL SUMMARY. Subsequently to tlie production of " Louis the JEleventh," tliree light pieces were brought forward at the Princess's, during tlie season of 1854-5, from the pen of Mr. J. M. Morton, author in ordinary to the ii^tablishment. "A Game of Romps," the "Muleteer )f Toledo," and " How Stout You're Getting," were all )f French origin, freely adapted, and met with the Tsual ephemeral success. Why does not this easy, igreeable writer extend his ambition, trust more to his nvn resources, invoke the spirit of his father, and try lis hand at an original comedy ? We have had none i.hat bids for immortality since Sir Bulwer Lytton's ' Money." *^ The field is still open and productive; a •ich harvest might yet be gathered by followers of the * The title and subject of this fine play are, and ever will be, uni- ersally api)licable ; and must ensure enduring popularity, despite the luctuating caprices of fashion, while the wit of Congreve and Sheridan ■i remembered, and then- language spoken. 134 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES same school. " A Game of E,omps," the first of tlu three trifles alluded to above, came out on the 12th o: March. The Frencli piece from which it is taken bearj: the title of " Les Jeux Innocents." It was a mert sketch, with little or no plot, deriving attraction almost exclusively from tlie personal charms of the ladies in-' eluded in the cast, and the humour of Harley, wlic played a sort of French Dominie Samjwon, in which ht was measured to the life. The piece altogether was ar improvement on the original. In Paris there were some; amongst the Levy of intended graces the very opposite i of attractive. At the Princess's they were, without ex-j ception, dangerously beautiful. These short, one-acli introductions, so much in fashion in the present day,: are very available for the purpose of playing in the audience, and setting them in good humour for the mort im])ortant business that is to follow. They are built ex- clusively on smart dialogue, quick repartee, and comic situation. From these ingredients a preliminary half hour of exciting merriment is often gained, particular!} if there is no studied determination to be funny, the transparent labour of which clogs and defeats the mosi zealous aspirations of humorous writers and their ex-j ponents. A spectator or listener never thoroughly, enjoys a joke unless he feels it to be spontaneous,, natural, arising from the circumstances of the case, andi born of itself. Then he laughs heartily, and, having.' got into the true vein, seldom pulls up until his gallop; ' is exhausted. But if he perceives that the author and. actors are flagging, or exhausting themselves in painful attempts to produce hilarity, not to be extracted from the materials with which they are working, he soon be- comes inoculated with their heaviness, and his mirtli evaporates in a yawn. " A Game of Ilomps " wa? entirely divested of this damaging characteristic. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 135 The " Muleteer of Toledo," designated in the bills as a "romance" in two acts, was selected for the Easter novelty.* In its original form as an opera, much of the action was carried on through the medium of M. Adolphe Adam's popular music. In the English alteration we had humour for melody, and smart epi- grammatic dialogue in place of long-concerted pieces and interminable finales, in which the words, supposed and intended to be interpreters of the sense, are too often smotliered up in lyrical evolutions, revolutions, I inflexions, and variations. Whether this change is an ; improvement forms a question for a critical jury ; but if I they were impanneled from an Easter Monday audience, i there can be little doubt that the verdict would be I unanimous in ftivour of the laugh. During that season ! of merriment a joke would carry the day against a I bravura, without hesitation. I "How Stout You're Getting" turns entirely on the j distress of a fat little gentleman, 2Ir. Plummy, a chemist j and druggist, who has no idea that he is becoming i corpulent, until constantly reminded by his wife and [others that he expands daily in circumference and I weight, as a natural consequence of indolent and gor- I mandising habits. Mr. D. Fisher, as Plummy, deserved I the highest praise, not only for his humour but for the I physical exhaustion he so loyally sustained — no trivial i matter in the dog days, with the thermometer at 90°. ! To combine the bulk of an incipient Falstaff with the i agility of Harlequin is more easily conceived than exe- ' cuted. A combination of two important events in IMr. C. * The same sul)ject has since acquu-ed additional reputation with Balfe's music, as the " Rose of Castile," so successfully ])roduced by the Englisli Operatic Company under the management of Miss Pyne and Mr. Harrison. J.'JG TITK LIFE AXb THEATRICAL TIMES ^ Keaii's individnal management, and in general theatrical history, occurred on AVednesday evening, the 16th of; May, 1855, by the production of Shakespeare's " King ] Henry the Eighth," and the re-appearance of Mrs. C. i Kean, after a long secession of nearly a year and a | half, occasioned through severe and constantly recurring i illness. It had been currently reported and believed I that she had retired altogether into private life. The i rumour gained strength with time, and anxiety in- j creased as months rolled by and no announcement , appeared of the return of the highly gifted lady whose ; absence was so severely felt. The apprehension of her , loss was also augmented by the conviction that no rising '. star had given evidence of power, either present or pro- spective, to fill the much regretted vacancy. The recent i recruits were not of a standard to justify their being ; placed in the front rank. There might be some pro- mising candidates ready for judgment, but as yet they were unenlisted. Every great artist is looked upon as public property, and all members of society are jealous . of their share in what they regard as common right. When Garrick went to Italy, a young performer named Powell sprang up unexpectedly, and stopped the gap with ■ so much success, that Lacy wrote to his partner, telling j him there was not the least occasion to hurry himself or abridge his intended tour. This intelligence brought 1 the apprehensive Roscius back at double speed, trembling j lest his laurels should be in danger. When Garrick | retired, Henderson and John Kemble stepped forward, well trained and gifted, to compete for the vacant throne, j When Kemble's hour of repose arrived, there were Young, who had long reflected his style, and Edmund Kean, who had converted half its Avorshippers. As Mrs. Cibber, Mrs. Pritchard, IMrs. Barry, and Mrs. Yates successively waned, Mrs. Siddons rose in her meridian OF f'HAKLES KKAN, F.S.A. 137 splendour, and eclipsed tliem all. When she too with- drew, there was Miss O'Neill ready to step into her place. We could not point to any living luminary likely to console us for the loss of Mrs. Charles Kean. In addition to her acknowledged professional supre- macy, a warmth of regard and respect attaches to her personal character, which gave to the enthusiastic plaudits that resounded through the house as she entered, and were long continued, the appearance rather of the greetings of private friends than the mere delight expressed by a promiscuous audience at once more seeing before them, restored to health and in full possession of her powers, one of the brightest ornaments that has ever graced the theatrical profession. With her return, the Princess's Theatre recovered the full lustre which her long absence had somewhat eclipsed, while the drama in general regained a most important pillar of strength. Much diversity of opinion has been indulged in by learned commentators as to the merit of " King Henry the Eighth" in comparison with the rest of Shakespeare's historical plays. Many consider it the best, as it is the last, and most carefully constructed, both in regard to the facts introduced, and the powerful contrast with which the leading characters are opposed to each other. The age was one of unparalleled magnificence — a taste fed and encouraged by the personal habits of the two monarchs of France and England. The latter nation in particular, then as now, richer than its neighbours, spared no expense in shows, entertainments, and apparel. A nobleman of that day carried half a year's revenue on his back whenever he appeared in full state. We are greatly advanced in our notions and practice of domestic comfort, elegance, and convenience, but we cannot rival our ancestors in outward display. In festivals and banquets, too, they vied with royalty itself, and were as 138 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES lavish as Apicius, who committed suicide after the high Koman fashion, when his steward annomiced to him that the cash in his strong box was reduced to 250,000 crowns, sufficient in his estimation for only one supper more. If there is less of stirring action, of the din and Vicissitude of war, of hero painting and ambitious rivalries, of plots, conspiracies, rebellions, conquests, and political reverses in " Henry the Eighth," than in the plays illustrating earlier and more unsettled reigns, there is a much greater infusion of pomp and pageantry, an increased gorgeousness of detail, mingled with pas- sages of exquisitely imaginative poetry, which compete with any that have proceeded from the same magic pen. The two most prominent characters, the Queen and the Cardinal, require powers of the very highest order, mental rather than physical, and can only be rendered truthful and eifective in proportion as the representatives throw aside stage conventionalities or hereditary adop- tion, and study them from the features so minutely deli- neated in the histories and chronicles from whence Shakespeare derived the sources of his own inspiration. Many of the most important scenes are so faithfully rendered, that the substance and even the words of the dialogue are not altered, but merely heightened by the glowing genius of the poet into harmonious verse. The defect of the play lies in the anti-climax at the end, the total cessation of interest in the fifth act. After the fall of Wolsey and the death of Queen Katharine^ the action ceases. And yet to drop the curtain on the latter incident had always been found somewhat incomplete when the experiment was tried. Then, again, the long and disconnected introduction of the scenes in which Cranmer is concerned was pronounced also to be in- sufferably wearisome. We take no interest in a sub- OF CHAKLES KEAN, F.S.A. 139 ordinate character we have not seen before, and who is brought in at the fag end to supply tlie place of the more attractive principals who have vanished from the scene. However venerable in history, the illustrious archbishop is not entertaining on the stage. We re- member well the yawns and lassitude of the audiences in the days of the Kembles, throughout this inter- minable episode, from which not even the traditional buffooneries of Bishop Gardiner in his forced reconcilia- tion with the Primate, or the following glories of the christening, could effectually revive them. In the arrangement of " Henry the Eighth," which embraces a period of twelve years, Shakespeare has indulged in two or three deviations from chronology, for which he has been loudly condemned. The most im- portant of these is placing the death of Queen Katharine before the birth and christening of the Princess Elizabeth. He did this, not from ignorance or carelessness, as ready censurers have supposed, but to wind up his play more agreeably than if he had closed with a tragic incident ; and to introduce a panegyric on the reigning queen, under whose patronage he wrote, and who was, if pos- sible, more punctilious in her extreme old age, more exacting in obsequious homage, and more swayed by flattery, than she had been in the meridian of her power and womanhood. The poet had another delicate task to accomplish in the delineation of Henri/ the Eighth him- self. It was necessary to render him respectable at least, if not amiable, and neither point Avould be attained without steering far beyond the latitude of truth. Shake- speare, however, compromised the difficulty with tolerable success, by selecting a portion of the sensual tyrant's life the least open to broad objection. If, five years earlier, Mr. C. Kean had said to any given circle of listeners, " 1 will bring out a play of 140 THE LIFE A\P THEATRICAL TIMES Shakespeare, and one not hitherto generally popular, and I will run that play one hundred nights to crowded houses," the company present would have smiled in unanimous unbelief, and would have answered (or, if courtesy chained their tongues, they would have uttered in thought), " The thing is an empty chimera, and the enthusiast who dreams of it as a practical reality, is a candidate for Hanwell or St. Luke's. How is it possible that you, a degenerate modern, should fancy you can accomplish what Garrick and the Kerables never thought of undertaking '? And with Shakespeare, too, who is obsolete and out of fashion, unsuited to the taste of the day ! A text book, if you like, but one seldom opened except as a reference, to settle a dispute, or verify a quotation." Well, the experiment was tried, and succeeded. The attempt and completion became realized facts, to be quoted by futm-e generations, in writing or speaking of the stage, as one of the most marvellous incidents con- nected with the subject on which they dilate ; — a land- mark in dramatic chronology. A Shakespearean play did run for one hundred consecutive nights, with the exception only of Mr. and Mrs. C. Kean's benefit, when a change of performance w^as substituted as a compliment to their immediate patrons and friends. The nearest apjtroacJi to this great attraction occurred in the instance of " Macbeth," at this same theatre in 1S53, and when Miss Fanny Kemble came to the rescue of Covent Garden in the season of 1829 — 30, on which occasion " Romeo and Juliet " produced upwards of forty attrac- tive repetitions. It could not be the pageantry, the pro- cession, the banquet, or the scenery, that achieved this great triumph ; as much, and even more, of all those em- bellishments, and at a greater cost, had been bestowed on the same subject at earlier revivals. Before, and during OF CHAULES KEAN, F.S.A. 141 the period of Garrick's management, •'Ileniy the Eighth" was on the acting list, and selected as a vehicle for costly expenditure seldom reimbursed. We read of its running twenty nights at Drury Lane, in the early part of 1728, to houses which scarcely paid the expense, and were principally attracted by the magnificence of a corona- tion, introduced as a facsimile of that of George II., who had just ascended the throne. Booth acted the King, which in those days was considered the principal part, and CoUey Gibber was the Wohey — a character for which he had no single requisite. 1,0007. was expended on the coronation scene alone — a very large sum more than a century ago. But what was this, or any recent outlay, compared to the 100,0007., which the Athe- nians are said to have lavished on a single tragedy of Euripides? " Henry the Eighth " was also a favourite play during the reign of the Kembles. The writer of these pages, in conversation with Charles Kemble on this particular subject, has more than once been told by him that it was the most costly and least remunerative of all the great revivals under his brother's superintendence. What, then, could have produced the superior attraction in 1855 ? Assuredly not the expenditure and show, for they had been equalled, if not surpassed, before. Let us deal justly, and say, it must have been the extraor- dinary combination of all the highest elements of art, until then, neither sought for nor employed with the same happy discrimination. The result belongs to the life-painting, the vivid resurrection of persons, places, and events — the severe, undeviating accuracy of historic research, rather than to dumb pictorial accompaniments, however appropriate and imposing, or to new mechanical appliances, with all their marvellous ingenuity. The acting is the oil that feeds the lamp, and without that rich pabulum in ample supply, the light would soon fade into '•'• darkness visible." 142 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES In a single season the cliaracters of Wohey and Queen Katharine were played by Mr. and Mrs. C. Kean oftener than by their greatest predecessors during a career of thirty years. This was a fact which the most resohite detractors were unable to dispute, although pertinacious in spirit, while few in number, and clinging to their own notions with the dogged obstinacy of prejudice, deter- mined to be wrong. From this time forward they slackened and declined. Mr. Kean had now so firmly established his position, had won such golden opinions from an overwhelming majority, that he had no occasion to heed a few dissentient voices, which finally lost themselves in their own clamour. The usual " fly-leaf" with which Mr. C. Kean had accompanied his earlier Shakespearean restorations was affixed to the bills of " Henry the Eighth;" but this time both play and preface escaped burlesque. Either the usual indulgers of that practice were conscience- stricken, or the vulgar resource had lost its popularity. With reference to his alterations, Mr. Kean said : "In the revival of ' Henry the Eighth,' it will be perceived that I have ventured to differ from the stage arrange- ments of my predecessors. Although in their time fine scenic effects were produced, and much pageantry was displayed, the management did not attempt, nor did the public require, that scrupulous adherence to historical truth in costume, architecture, and the multiplied details of action, which modern taste demands, and is so capable of appreciating, when employed in the service of the monarch of dramatic poetry." The notice wound up with the following sentence : — " I cannot conclude with- out an allusion to Mrs. Charles Kean's return to the stage, after a long secession, occasioned by severe illness. It is only thus that I can record my appreciation of the compliment she has received in the voluntary proposal OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 143 of the ladies of the company, not representing characters in the phay, to appear as her ' Ladies in Waiting.' Such an offer is the more valuable, as it combines a graceful expression of personal esteem with a zealous desire to uphold the interests of the theatre." The revival of " Henry the Eighth " was accompanied by a printed edition of the play as then acted, with historical and explanatory notes by Mr, C. Kean. The books were sold in the theatre alone, for the exclusive accommodation of its frequenters, and above 6,000 copies were thus circulated. The plan has since been continued with all the subsequent Shakespearean resto- I rations, in an unbroken series. These plays, in a j collected form, are now in course of publication by Messrs. Bradbury and Evans. They are highly valuable I I in a literary sense, and may be strongly recommended ! j as eligible studies for the more youthful readers of the ! dramatic master ; the text being carefully preserved, \ and assiduously purified from all objectionable passages : or expressions. The new acting version of " Henry the Eighth " i must be considered here with regard to its fitness for I representation. It was not ventured as a critical liberty, or an ambitious experiment to improve Shakespeare as ; he wrote ; but as a zealous effort to place the poet on the j stage for which he composed, to the best advantage, and jwith the reality which he conceived and intended, I j although without a hope of seeing the accomplishment [ with his own eyes. In doing this, it is equally permis- I sible as necessary to curtail or restore ; while true taste I I shrinks from any attempt to alter or amend with I i arbitrary judgment^ too often regulated by caprice or i j biassed perception. Mr. C. Kean cannot be too mucli f I commended for the care with which he has preserved the : \ genuine text of Shakespeare, as well as for the re-intro- 144 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES ductiou of some noble passages, to the exclusion of otliers of infinitely less beauty and importance. Tlie notes bespeak depth of research, and the scrupulous regard for truth by which even the most trifling improvement was held in abeyance, until supported by unquestion- able authority. No names are assigned without a stated reason, and characters are no longer blended for stage convenience (such, for instance, as Cromicell and Griffith), which Shakespeare, following history, had distinctly separated. The error has been too often indulged by managers of high pretensions in earlier days, when a punctilious observance of all these details was ess imperative than modern taste requires, and values in proportion. A printed book of Mr. C. Kean's "Henry the Eighth" was absolutely called for to convey the full account of all the startling novelties that were introduced into this fine drama. As every- body went to see it acted, so almost every one who could command a spare sliilling purchased a book, that he might recall at his ease, in his arm-chair, the succes- sion of dazzling scenes which had so enchanted his faculties in the theatre. Many persons have a passion for reading while they are assisting (as the French say) at the performance. We have no right to quarrel with individual taste, but we cannot commend this habit, except in the case of an Italian opera, or a performance in French or German, wlicre the difficulty of following the foreign idiom often demands reference to a present interpreter. A dramatic representation is intended to strike directly through the medium of the eye ; but if \ „ the eye is constantly wandering to a page, more than half the efiect is lost. The reader who is looking on his book instead of on the stage, may occasionally find that fta actor has tripped in the text, or detect him in substituting and for hut. He has made a point OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 145 against him, as a critic, it is true ; but he loses in intel- lectual enjoyment much more than he can possibly gain by the discovery of an unimportant fact. The appearance of a line of students, too, operates as an embarrassmg check on the energies of the performer. We have seen OtlieUo sink suddenly from the height of frenzied passion to dead apathy, when his eye fell by accident on the apparition of a grave, spectacled, elderly gentleman in the stage box, pouring over his text-book as immov- ably and solemnly as if he were spelling a mystified leader, or a long parliamentary debate in one of the morning papers. We therefore recommend it as a much more wholesome canon, to purchase a book by all means, but after you have witnessed the performance, and to ;read it carefully while at breakfast on the following day. We are somewhat surprised to find Hazlitt, who has ibeen often quoted as an acute Shakespearean critic, expressing himself as follows : — " The representing the very finest of Shakespeare's plays on the stage, even by the best actors, is, we apprehend, an abuse of the 3-enius of the poet. Shakespeare has em.bodied his characters so very distinctly, that he stands in no need i)f the actor's assistance to make them more distinct." [t is not very easy to understand these sentences, or to follow their meaning with satisfaction ; but we suppose i;hey are intended to convey that Shakespeare's plays ire weakened by being acted, and ought to be entirely ■eserved for the closet; — a startling position, which vould astonish Shakespeare not a little if he could be 'nade aware of it. As he undoubtedly wrote his plays to )c acted before they were read (many of them were not jrinted at all during his life), for the stage in preference ,0 the library, we may take it for granted that he knew vhat he meant and intended, and how to construct si^ own conceptions for his own selected purpose. But VuL. II. 1. 146 THE LIFE AND THEA'J'UICAL TIMES these subtle commentators would fain persuade u.s that they are more deeply in his confidence than he was himself, and can interpret the workings of his mind \Yith more fidelity than he has exhibited them. ( The same materials from which Mr. C. Kean so laboriously studied and selected in his Shakespearean revivals were available to his predecessors. The same authorities were open to their research, and yet they disregarded, or, having casually looked into them, passed them over as of no moment. It is true that such minute historical accuracy was not then expected. General knowledge was more limited. The taste of the day satisfied itself with a bold outline, a striking feature in a few prominent situations, instead of a portrait complete in all its details. If, occasionally, a great scenic display was presented, it stood by itself; there was no attempt to carry a series of corresponding efforts throughout an entire performance. Mr. Kean is the first manager who has understood and accomplished ihh' [_jDerfect coherence. Former generations saw " Henr}' the Eighth" represented with certain insulated effects — such, for instance, as the coronation of Ajme Boleyn and the christening of her infant daughter ; but the}' never witnessed the whole play illustrated, as now, b} i a succession of historical pictures, in which ever} person, group, and movement is modelled from life ; noi taken from imagination or poetical resemblance, bui embodied from the minute descriptions of those wh( had seen, known, and lived with the characters intro^ duced : with whom they were as familiarly acquainted ai with the places they inhabited and the costumes the} wore. The order of Wolseys march as he is passing t( the council chamber, the dazzling splendour of tb, banquet at York Place, the solemnity of the executioii of Bii(:ki'ii_Qf/aiH, the distribution of the court for thi OF CIIAKLE^'^J^^yHplfA:: 147 trial of tlie divorce question between the King and Katharine of Armgon, the etherial beauty of the vision in the scene of her dream and death ; and above |all, tlie introduction of tlie higlily characteristic intcr- jview between the two cajoL"ng cardinals and their perse- cuted victim ; — these bold and truthful innovations are 3xclusively the result of Mr. Kean's close examination Df his subject, and are as entirely new as they are superior in value and reality to the old conventional irrangements they have so happily superseded. It is by he independent exercise of its own strength that true alent bursts from the fetters of habit and traditional outine, finding variety and pow er n its own innate i j-esources.,^- 1 1 The old mode of disposing the trial scene is per- j petuated in Harlowe's celebrated picture, usually called I [he Kemble Family, from the number of portraits it jiontains of that distinguished race. The painting, we )elieve, has disappeared mysteriously, but the engrav- ings are numerous and familiar. There we see tlie iiing seated on his throne in presiding dignity, and the , jwo cardinals at the table, mixed up with the other jaerabers of council. There is nothing to mark the icclesiastical supremacy with which the court was invested. The Queen stands majestically in the front. A e look on an imposing group, picturesque and I'Xtical, but conveying no true reflection of the event s it occun-ed. According to Mr. Kean's disposition f the stage, the two cardinals, who are appointed under special commission from Eorae to try the case, are 3ated together on an elevated platform. The great hurchmen and lawyers occupy their appointed stalls, 'he King, as plaintiff in the cause, sits on the right- and side in front, and answers to the legal summons, s'he Queen, as defendant, enters when called for, and L 2 148 THE LIFE AND THEATRTCAL TIMES takes her place on the opposite side. Here is history transferred to the boards, and blended in perfect accor- dance with the Shakespearean text. Even in a dramatic sense, the present arrangement is superior to the former one. Another and more important evidence of sound judg- ment was manifested in the restoration of the fine scene' beginning the third act, wherein the two cardinals, by command of the King, visit Queen Katharine in her sad privacy, to try and prevail on her to consent to the divorce. How or why Mrs. Siddons could have been induced to sacrifice this valuable portion of her part we never could understand. Is it possible that John Kemble thought it interfered with his own Wolsei/, and excised it from jealousy? If so, his discrimination was terribly at fault, and his sister's complaisance seriously marred the general interest of the play, the intention of the poet, and the rapid contrast of events his genius sought invariably to produce. At this interview, Wolsey is in the plenitude of his greatness. "Take heed,"; says the Queen, goaded almost to madness by his hollow i importunity, "take heed, for heaven's sake, lest at once* the burden of my sorrows fall upon ye." In the very; next scene, the implied judgment is accomplished, and; we find the king-cardinal suddenly hurled, without the slightest Avarning or preparation, from his high estate into misery more signal and abject than that of the helpless woman he has assisted to destroy. It would be difficult to cite a more consummate instance of Shake- speare's deep insight into the moral of all human trans- actions, as well as his mastery over every possible variety of dramatic efiect. If Kemble could have wit- nessed these two scenes at the Princess's Theatre, he would surely have altered his opinion, and repented of his ill-considered curtailment. OF CHARLES KEAN, E.S.A, 149 Again, we think Mr. Keau displayed the tact of a great practical artist, in cutting down the fifth act to the last scene of the christening, and hy the introduction of a moving panorama, which carried us to the church of the Grey Friars at Greenwich, where that ceremony was performed. There had been already two pro- cessions ; a third would be monotonous. What is gained in other parts of the play outvalues, by an immense calculation, the portions that have been cast aside. The acting has yet to be spoken of before we dismiss the subject. Mrs. C. Kean's Queen Katharine gave ample evidence jthat during her long illness she had found intervals for study and preparation. The character could not be represented in such impressive reality without deep fore- thought and meditative care. It was one of the finest specimens we ever saw of what has been pronounced ihe perfection of acting, — art producing nature. When Mrs. Siddons in the zenith of her success called upon Dr. Johnson, he asked her " which of Shakespeare's leroines she liked best?" She answered, without lesitation, " Queen Katliarine, because it is the most latural and feminine." " You are right, madam," re- plied the great critic, " and when you appear in that [3art, old and infirm as I am, I will endeavour to hobble ;)ut and see you." Now, this is clearly Mrs. C. Kean's reading of Queen Katharine, and these attributes so con- l^enial with her own, enabled her to achieve a signal iriumph. A few sexagenarian playgoers may look back ■vith proud reminiscences, hallow^ed by time, to the com- manding figure of Mrs. Siddons, her sustained solemnity \)i manner, her thrilling, deep-toned utterance, her awful majesty of deportment. All these endowments we fully idmit and remembei- ; but in simple pathos, in natural jursts of indignation when urged beyond patience, in 150 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES the gentle, unartlficial, and purely woman-like featuros of the character, we venture to say, and we hope witii- out heresy, she is exceeded by Mrs. C. Kean. Mr,^ Siddons may have commanded superior admiration but Mrs. C. Kean touches the feelings with great i" intensity. Slie suffers tlie woman to predominate ovc the queen, and mourns the loss of the king's aifectior with deeper regret than the decline from her world)} state. She is wounded in her heart more incurably thai in her rank. This, we apprehend to have been Shake- speare's own view ; and this, in our humble judgment was never so truthfully conveyed before, and withou the restored scene, would be imperfectly attempted We have reason to believe that this opinion in sub- stance, and almost in the same words, has been ex- pressed by one of Mrs. Siddons's earlier and most accom- plished successors, who has long retired into the privac} of domestic life. In the dying scene, Mrs. C. Keai depicted the exhaustion of physical suffering with sucl artistic truthfulness, that every breath was suspended and many were the white handkerchiefs displayed af the act-drop came slowly down. The falling back aftej an effort to rise, and expiring in her chair, was far mori' natural and impressive than if she had tottered off, a; heretofore, supported by her attendants. For som( seconds the audience sat rivetted in absorbed attention and no sound escaped them ; but as soon as the liousi could recover, one simultaneous burst of applause pro claimed the power of the enchantress who had spell bound their faculties by such potent necromancy. It would be difficult to conceive two characters mor thoroughly opposed to each other than Louis the Eleventi and Cardinal Wolsey. There is craft, and cunning, an( duplicity, and conscience yielding to convenience, as fa as worldly matters are concerned, (Wolsey was sincer OF CHAKLES KF.AN, F.S.A. 151 in his velig'ion) in each ; but expressed after a totally different fashion. An actor of great ability might suc- ceed in one and fail in the other ; yet Mr. C. Kean has been eminently successful in both. His versatility was never more strikingly exhibited than in these two contrasted assumptions. Wohey is a difficult, perhaps an overrated character; identiiied too. by the elders, with personal associations of John Kemble. The two first acts contain little beyond unimpassioned declama- tion, and one or two traits of individual peculiarity. In the great scene of his disgrace and fall, in the third act, the entire pith of the part is concentrated ; all that he says and does before work up to that sudden catastrophe. But this single scene contains so much in a small com- pass that it taxes the full powers of the actor, and none but one of first-rate pretensions can grapple with it successfully. Mr. C. Kean does not give us the hereditary TVolsey jof the stage after the mannerism of any preceding actor ; but the Cardinal of history, closely followed, as the poet has transferred him from the chroniclers, and with a minute attention to every small feature, in a portrait drawn with stereotyped distinctness. It is fortunate for himself, as well as wholesome for the cause of the drama, when an actor can venture to eschew established notions, and strike into an untrodden path. Modern advancement permits this, while ancient prejudice shrank from it with holy horror. Mr.C. Kean's deviations from the established rule in Wolsey, were posi- tively alarming. It may not be generally remembered, by those who have the stately mien of Kemble ever before their eyes, that the great cardinal was short in stature, and somewhat corpulent ; and although haughty and imperious with the high nobility who hated him, no man ever exceeded him in affability and courteous- ness of manner, when there was no political motive for 152 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES assuming a different deportment. Mr. C. Kean care- fully noted all these points, and his performance through- out was marked bj the varying shades of character which this consummate actor assumed, according to the circumstances in which he was placed, and the parties with whom he came in contact. Wolsey could simulate humility and self-command when it suited his purpose, but his natural temper was hot and ungovernable. The poet has invested him with a dignity and resignation in his fall, which call forth universal sympathy, until we forget his unbridled ambition and arrogance in the depth of his degradation. Mr. C. Kean gave the whole of his last scene with a most pathetic eloquence, in which nature completely triumphed over systematic habits, and truth superseded hypocrisy. His costume appeared to be taken from undoubted authorities, and so sedulously did he preserve minor details in the manners of this great child of fortune, as well as all the more important attributes, that wdien he crossed the stage in the first procession, he held in his hand " the hollow orange, filled with a part of a sponge, wherein was vinegar and other confections, against the pestilent airs, which Cavendish describes as his constant custom," when passing through streets or cor- ridors, where he might be pressed on by many suitors. An old gentleman, on the first niglit observed to a friend, seated next to him, " Mr. Kean in many respects gives me a more perfect idea of Cardinal Wolsey, as history has described him, than any actor I have ever seen, from John Kemble to the present day." ■ Mr. Walter Lacy deserved much credit for his per- j sonification of Henry the Eighth, which he looked to j a point. His " make up " was admii-able, and his acting ,j equal to it. The monarch of many wives was a fear- | ful companion, although Shakespeare has done all that * genius could effect to humanize and render him fit for OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 153 society, without departing entirely from liistorical facts. There was no safety for any head under such a trucu- lent ruler; his humorous intervals were almost as dangerous as his paroxysms of rage. The part easily admits of exaggeration in the hands of a coarse or care- less actor. ]\Ir. W. Lacy is entitled to full credit foi- not yielding to a temptation sanctioned by respectable precedent. The author has given Anne Bolei/n nothing i to do, and little to say. Her fair representative, Miss Heath, possesses the external requisites, and satislied f the eye, which is not the least important consideration i in filling up the outline of a vapid stage beauty. Mr. j Ryder's Duke of Biichingliam was well conceived and 1 embodied. The part soon fades from the scene, but is invariably assigned to an important actor. Mr. Cooper, in the restored part of Griffith, spoke some beautiful speeches with great propriety and feeling. In every respect the play presented a perfect realization of history, and was universally acknowledged as such by the public, with the exception of a few constitutional sneers from the narrow minority who are never pleased, and a faint expiring groan or two from the unhappy excep- tions who envy the success they can neither arrest nor attain. On 16th July, 1855, William Farren took his final leave of the stage at the Haymarket Theatre, appear- ing in the second act of the " Clandestine Marriage." He retired into private life with a handsome fortune and a brilliant reputation, although the former, we suspect, had suffered a little from his managerial specu- lations at the Strand and the Olympic. For some years, increased infirmities had rendered him so inarticulate, that it was difficult to recognise the great actor of earlier days. The genius was still there, but the phy- sical power was wanting to give the due effect. The Times, in a very eulogistic notice, added : — " It is just 154 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES possible tliat to many young playgoers, our praise of Mr, Farren may appear overcharged ; so we will at once anticipate their objections by declaring that no fre- quenter of theatres of less than eight years' standing is qualified to utter an opinion on the subject." On his last night, Farren acted only a portion of what had formerly been his great part — Zorc? Ogleby. The house was crowded. ]\Iany leading per- formers from various theatres testified professional respect by contributing their services, and were grouped round him for the closing scene. ]\liss Helen Faucit gracefully presented the veteran with a laurel wreath, and Harley flung his arms round tlie neck of his old stage companion. The audience, as might be expected, cheered vociferously when the curtain fell. Mr. C. Kean's season closed on the 14th September, 1855 — a season protracted to the unusual length of eleven months. The fact spoke success ; but it was a success fairly wrung from the public by Herculean exertions, in the face of many incidental obstacles, sufficient to wear out ordinary enterprise, and to exhaust restricted resources. At the commencement of the Avinter, the theatrical horizon presented a dreary pros- pect. People's minds were depressed by the recent visitation of a deadly disease, preoccupied with the novelty of war, the unsatisfactory state of affairs in the Crimea, the exaggerated reports of loss and disaster, the burden of increased taxes, and the general uncer- tainty attendant on a complete revulsion in the usually placid routine of social life. Many families were in mourning for the loss of dear relatives who had fallen in battle; and many more trembled to look over the columns of each succeeding gazette. There was much to think of more absorbing than the ordinary relaxa- tions or amusements of life. It was no easy task, under these circumstances, to direct public attention to the OF CHARr.ES KEAN, F.S.A. 155 theatre, and to retain it there, as if by magnetic attrac- tion, throughout a long and anxious period. Mr. C. Kean accomplished this by untiring energy and perse- verance, marking the most difficult year of his dramatic government by an event without parallel in the history of the stage — one hundred repetitions of a single Shakespearean play. It was difficult to decide whether the public or the manager should receive the heartiest congratulations on this extraordinary success. Mr. Kean, by wdiat he had now done, raised such expecta- tions as to what he would yet do, that it became more than difficult for him to keep pace with his own reputa- tion. He had revived and restored to its pristine vigour the legitimate drama, so repeatedly said to be crumbling to extinction, and had good reason to be proud of what he had effijcted in defiance of potent obstacles. The public felt that they owed him much ; and he, in his turn, could not fail to rely with full con- fidence on their steady support. We had been so long accustomed to be told that Shakespeare was buried more deeply than his own Prospero promised to drown his magic book, and to hear what were once called our great national theatres mourned over as mausoleums of the departed, that our satisfaction was doubled when we found the inimitable bard once more vindicating his claims to his title, and flourishing with renewed vitality. A change of local situation is of no importance. It matters little where the temple is placed, if the true divinity is worshipped within. When ^neas fled from the burning ruins of Troy, he carried his household gods with him, and found a new home for them on the hearthstone of an infant colony. Mr. Kean planted Shakespeare firmly on the boards of the Princess's Theatre, and there he was welcomed with as much warmth as if he had never moved from liis earlier pedestals. 166 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES CHAPTER VIII. RENEWAL OP MR. C. KEAN'S LEASE FOR FOUR YEARS — SEASON OP 1855-6 AT THE princess's— NEW FARCE OP DON't JUDGE BY APPEARANCES — A WONDERFUL WOMAN THE CRITIC THE RIVALS — THE HEIR-AT-LAW EVERY ONE HAS HIS FAULT — MRS. C. KEAN AS LADY ELEANOR IRWIN PANTOMIME ON THE SOBJECT OP THE MAID AND MAGPIE HAMLET JEALOUS WIFE— LOUIS THE ELEVENTH MERCHANT OP VENICE- DEATH OP THE GREAT TENOR SINGER JOHN BRAHAM — THE FIRST PRINTER, A NEW PLAY BY MESSRS. C. READE AND TOM TAYLOR— ARGUMENTS ON THE TREATMENT OP THE SUBJECT AND ITS HISTORICAL ACCURACY — MR. C. KEAN AS LAURENCE COSTAR — FAUST AND MARGUERITE — A PRINCE FOR AN HOUR — THE VICTOR VANQUISHED — REVIVAL OF THE winter's tale— EXTRAORDINARY RUN OF ONE HUNDRED AND TWO NIGHTS — MR. AND MRS. C. KEAN AS LEONTES AND HERMIONE CLOSE OP THE SEASON— MR. C. KEAN's ADDRESS — NUMBER OP SHAKESPEAREAN PERFORMANCES — DEATH OF MADAME VESTRIS. Up to the date of which we have now arrived, Mr. C. Kean had paid considerably above 6,000?. to living authors of hig-h repute for various dramatic novelties ; but the results had not answered his expectations. Shakespeare was evidently his trusting point, and to that inexhaustible mine he determined henceforward to look, for the substantial reward of his labours, and the artistic reputation he valued even more than profit. His lease of the Princess's Theatre terminated on the 31st of July, 1855 ; but he had a stipulated condition enabling him to renew on the same terms for an ad- ditional four years, by giving six months' notice. This clause, on mature deliberation, he determined to avail himself of, and laid his plans accordingly. The ensuing engagements were all made for the fidl term. It was OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 157 ever a point in ]Mr. Kean's .system to liave as few clianges in his company as possible. He knew the value of forces accustomed to work together, and the advantages to be derived from constant association. The most im- portant addition to the company consisted of Mr. Frank Matthews, who joined from the Lyceum, where he had long enlisted under the banners of Madame Vestris, and Mr. C. Mathews The season at the Princess's opened on the 22d of October. The performances commenced with a new farce in one act, by Mr. J. M. Morton, entitled "Don't Judge by Appearances ; " an agreeable trifle, well selected to usher in the stately splendour of " Henry the Eighth." After one hundred repetitions, this noble drama came again before the public as fresh and attractive as during its first run. The christening and diorama were now omitted. On the 27th of October, Mr. C. Dance's clever little comedy of" A Wonderful Woman," was performed, to introduce Mr. Frank Matthews in a part originally played by him, — Crepm the cobbler. This he followed I by Sir Fretful Plagiary in the " Critic." The recep- [ tion of the new actor (new to the boards he was then treading) testified the warm satisfaction of the audience at seeing him enrolled in the ranks, where he has since filled a conspicuous place. "Henry the Eighth" continued to be performed for fifty additional nights before it was finally laid aside. I During the early part of the season, the old comedies of ! the " Rivals," the " Heir-at-Law," and " Every One has ' his Fault,'' were revived in succession, and afforded opportunities of showing the general strength of the company to much advantage. It would be ditiScult to I select three more opposite specimens of distinct schools. Sheridan, Colman, and Mrs. Inchbald, have little in 158 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES common except a thorough knowledge of stage effect, and the conventional technicalities, which form, what we may call the rudiments of dramatic authorship. ]\Irs. Inchbald has not the sparkling wit of Sheridan, the rich humour of Cohnan, or the power of grouping together incidental eccentricities, which the more desultory habits of man's life supply him with in gTcater abundance than a female writer can have opportunities of acquiring from personal experience. Changes of taste, as regard dramatic composition, have become almost as rapid as the varying fashions of our garments. What pleased our fathers, and grandfathers, iinds, with few exceptions, but scanty favom* with their more fastidious descendants. Whether the stage has improved or deteriorated in consequence of these mul- tiplied and ever recurring revolutions is a question diffi- cult to decide ; and which, like many others of higher importance, may be argued to infinity, without arriving at a satisfactory conclusion ; and fortunate it is that such diversity of opinion should continue to exist. Were it otherwise, we should be continually jostling each other in an uncomfortable crowd, if we all travelled together on the one narrow highway of this over-popidous world. As it is, every one chooses a path for himself, in which to indulge his own peculiar bent. By some the revival of an old comedy is. considered a relief and a treat ; by others it is condemned as an uncalled-for resurrection, and *' a bore." We plead guilty to the charge of ranking ourselves with the former class, even at the risk of being pronounced old and " slow," and behind the era in wliich we live. Even on the score of contrast, if for nothing else, the occasional change is A\'elcome. " Every One has his Fault," at the Princess's Theatre was principally remarkable for the performance of Mrs. C. Kean, as Ladji Eleanor Inriii. To a reader of tJie play, the OF CHAKLES KEAN, F.S.A. 159 character appears trivial. She seldom appears on the scene, and what she says has nothing in it beyond tlie simplest expression of her attachment to her husband and children, with her distress at the common misery in which they are involved. There are no stilts, no tragic inflation, and no overwhelming bursts of passion ; but there is natural feeling and pathos, in the delineation of which Mrs. C. Kean has never been surpassed. Mrs. Inchbald's comedy consists of dialogue rather than action. The language is easy and pleasing, but never rises into brilliant wit. The speeches do not sparkle with epigrammatic point, neither do the characters ex- hibit the strong contrast of humour that tells so amaz- ingly in the broader scenes of the " Heir-at-Law." The lady's play is one of a school, which stands midway between the sentimental and the grotesque. The serious portion is certainly overstrained, yet it embraces nothing that might not occur. Fact is often more extraordinary than the wildest romance. The ingredients of the drama will be cut down to a very circumscribed allowance if nothing is to be included but what can be reconciled to ordinary rules. No one disputes the beautiful and natural simplicity which gives the charm to Gold- smith's ''Vicar of Wakefield." Yet the incidents crowded together at the close are improbable to the last extreme. The novel writer and the dramatist are surely entitled to the same latitude, ' The usual pantomime appeared at Christmas with the I usual success. The subject this year was selected by [Mr. Morton from the well-known story of the "Maid and the Magpie." On the 17th of February, 1856^ died in London, John I Braham, who for more than half a century had been I acknowledged as the first English tenor, without a rival. His age was said to be scvcntv-uinc. It could not 160 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES possibly be less, and might have been more, for at the time of his deatli he had been sixty-six years before the public. He made his first appearance at the Royalty Theatre, through the interest of hjs relative and teacher, Mr. Leoni, when scarcely fifteen; and this must have been somewhere about the year 1790. In 1796, being then a full-grown man, he came out at Drury Lane, in the new opera of " Mahmoud," in which John Kemble played the hero. This was the last opera composed by Storace, and was acted fifteen times. The young singer made a most favourable impression, and never afterwards lost his ground. Braham took no formal leave of the stage, although for several years before his death he had ceased to act. At Exeter Hall and other concerts, he. continued to sing almost to the last, and though uncer-j tain, sometimes blazed out with surprising power. He amassed a large fortune, and lived in splendid style, entertaining the first company in the land ; but in evil hour he entered into speculative management at the St. James's and the Colosseum, in both of whicli he sank large sums of money. When examined before the committee of the House of Commons, on the Dramatic Question, in 1832, he was asked amongst other interro- gatories, whether he liad ever been a manager, to which he answered emphatically, " No, thank heaven ! " If he had never been tempted from this resolve, he woul have lived and died a richer man. But greater names than his have been coupled with more flagrant incon- sistency. The Duke of Wellington said in the House of Lords that he must be mad before he would undertake the duties of prime minister. Yet he was installed in the office not long after he volunteered this declaration. ' On Monday, the 3d of March, 1856, a new play in' three acts was produced, entitled the " First Printer,"i the giibject of which is embodied in the title. An. OF CHAKLES KEAN, F.S.A. 161 4 jOrigiiial composition, with no French leaven, but all t||. Sgenuine EngHsh. The authors, Messrs. Charles Reade, alt; 'and Tom Taylor (dramatists of established repute), lit; adopt the Dutch version of the origin of typography, lat, and ascribe the exclusive invention to Laurence Costar, eIj; Isacristan of the Cathedral at Haarlem. While setting ;,ii aside the more recognized claim of John Gutenberg of dI iMentz, they have even drawn the latter as a common H, pilferer, and trader in goods dishonestly obtained. In nj- a preliminary notice affixed to the bill, it was stated ail [that they founded their opinion on the faith of a tale I {handed down by Adrian Junius, the celebrated anti- lij guary, and principal of Haarlem College. According to ;| 'ithis gossip, one Master Cornelius, a bookbinder, who If,! died in 1516, recollected and told how a certain John, B jivho worked with him in the employment of Costar, \j ijvhen they were both lads, broke into the shop and {f jibstracted the printing apparatus, flying to Mentz, where jl; iie set up on his own account. " If this story be true," !j^ ^ay Messrs. Reade and Taylor, " it follows from the I jincontested facts of the history of printing in Mentz, ,jli }:hat this John could have been no other than one of the jpi ijrutenbergs." We confess that we cannot see the logic ij(i pf this assumed conclusion, but look upon it as resting \l\ j)il a shadowy basis. That the Dutch legend presents „] preferable points of dramatic effect, would seem more g like an argument, however the alleged facts may deviate (,, from historical truth. The question has given rise to 5j nuch controversy, and is likely to remain unsettled. II { If we are to judge by such evidence as has reached us, ,|; jt appears most likely that the first conception of print- jjj jng emanated from Costar, who invented wooden blocks. P, j^Vith these, he printed, about the year 1438, and a very J, lihort time before his death (which took place in 143'J, j. |it the age of sixty-nine), a book of images and letters^. ' VOL. IT. M 162 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES entitled " Speculum Humanje Salvationis ;" and com- pounded a species of ink, more glutinous and less likely to blot than that in common use. The leaves of this book were printed on one side only, and afterwards pasted together. Gutenberg improved most materially on the idea of Costar, by the invention of moveable wooden types, which Peter Schasffer carried to the per- fection of the cast metal types in matrices now in use. , The German writers reject the Haarlem tale, and insist on the superior pretensions of Gutenberg. Lamartine, in his recent memoir of the latter, supports the integrity of his character and the extent of his genius, while admitting that Laurence Costar was the father of the ! thought. He says, " the discovery of the poor sacristan would have covered the surface of the earth with plates engraved or sculptured in relief, but would not have been ; a substitute for a single case of moveable type. Never- 1 theless the principle of the art was developed in the ; sacristy of Haarlem, and we might hesitate whether to attribute the honour of it to Costar or Gutenburg, if its invention had not been with one the mere accidental discovery of love and chance, and with the other, the! well-earned victory of patience and genius." i There have not been wanting desperate antiquaries] who carry back this wonderful discovery to an infinitelyJ ■ more remote period. Some maintain that printing wasj in use during the building of Babylon, and others that! the knowledge of the art came even earlier than that! epoch from the Chinese. Abdalla's "Chinese History"! notices wooden tablets engraved to print entire pages , on one side of the leaf, and ages afterwards prac-i tised by Costar and other block-printers, in the Lewi Countries. } Where historical characters are introduced into a poem, a novel, or a play, poetical licence usually claims OP CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 103 le privilege of exalting or depreciating them according the immediate object of the writer. Is this practice Justifiable ? It has multiplied precedent, if not law and reason, on its side. In the case now under discussion, jutenberg's children died before him, and he has left 10 heir or representative to feel hurt at an imputation )n his memory, or to prosecute for libel if he has been mjustly dealt with. The play is well written, and the interest powerfully ustained ; but there is something unsatisfactory in the jonclusion. The same principle of dramatic licence, in |he exercise of which the authors have blackened the tharacter of Gutenberg, called upon them to punish him n proportion to the enormity of his guilt. He loses, it 5 true, the wife he sought to filch from his rival, but e retains the credit of his stolen invention, his conse- uent riches, his reputation, and his rank as master of tie guild. To a worldly-minded man he has more jtian an equivalent for the loss of domestic happiness. jk.s the authors have strained history in the first point, iiey were the more bound to do so in the second. iVhen Euripides was blamed for bringing such a flagi- ous villain as Ixion on the stage, and visiting him with emporary prosperity, he replied, " but yet I brought ;im not ofi" till I had fastened him to a burning ■heel." There are, moreover, some anachronisms in the I First Printer " which could not fail to be generally jicognized. The biographical dictionaries tell us that iaurence Costar was born in 1370, and died in 1439. i ssuming these dates to be correct, it is impossible that e could have met Gutenberg at Mentz in 1440, he him- !lf being still young in years. Again, the famous [entz Bible, spoken of in this play as already printed, as only commenced in 1440, and finislied in 1460 ; M 2 164 THE LIFE AND THEATRKJAL TIMES and tlie honours conferred on the society of printers b^ the Emperor Maximilian, together with their erectioi into a guild, did not take place until long after th( death of Gutenberg, in 1468. The ])art of Laurence Costar, maintained by Mr. C Kean, fell quite beloAv the mark of the leading actor o the day. But he threw his whole energies into it, au( made it stand much more forward than the authors couh have anticipated from the materials with which the'' supplied him. In the scene of the third act, with Guten herg^ he exhibited surprising power. The struggl between physical cxliaustion and intense passion wa given with startling reality. Such efforts of the actor' art furnish examples of what genius can embody from faint outline, and profitable lessons to young performer how the experience of a great master discovers effort which the scholar in his apprenticeship often passe over, or is incapable of distinguishing. A strong pai may be made to tell in comparatively weak hands, but weak one requires the strength of a giant to sustain it importance. ; A play of so much merit, well acted and carefully g( up, eulogised by the press and warmly applauded by tl audience, might have been expected to enrich tl treasury and remain long on the acting list. On tl contrary, it added one more to the insolvable problems < public caprice. After nine representations it was with drawn, simply because the receipts fell regularly belo the nightly expenditure, without any prospect of r action. On the morning of the 6th of March, 1856, whi darkness yet prevailed, the inhabitants in the neighbou hood of Covent Garden Theatre were startled from the slumbers by the announcement of that splendid edifi' being ou tire, In a few hours it was entirely consume OF niAKLF.S KKAy, F.S.A. 165 Tlie discovery was made before an [assembly of many thousands, who had been revelling in the saturnalia of a hal masque, given by Professor Anderson, the Wizard of the North, had entirely dispersed. Fortunately, the lingering revellers were few in number, or the alarm might have occasioned a fatal rush, in which many lives . i would in all probability have been lost. Not long since (I I (in February, 1859) the great Theatre du Cirque, at St. ),. j Petersburg (devoted, to Russian operas and German comedies), met destruction from fire, and also during or immediately after it had been prostituted to a similar desecration. These masquerade balls are as dangerous as they are undramatic and demoralizing. It is mar- vellous that the authorities do not prohibit them in public places, or that the proprietors of theatres expose their buildings to unnecessary risk by letting them for ^ such unhallowed purposes. Covent Garden rose phoenix- y 'like from its ashes with increased splendour, and in less than six months from the laying of the first stone the new theatre opened, on the 15th of May, 1858, with the opera of the " Huguenots." There were many specula- tions as to what would be built on the ground, and whether or not it would ever again be occupied by a dramatic edifice, after two conflagrations, occurring within fifty years. Superstitious observers, as they passed by, might have said or thought, as they gazed on the ruins, and the lumbered site, — " A merry place it was in days of yore, But something ails it now ; the place is curs'd." But the void is filled up by Mr. Gye's magnificent building, one of the most commodious and perfect ,; theatres in Europe, specifically erected as an Italian Opera House, and so constructed as to be equally avail- able for any variety of dramatic entertainment. There 166 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Miss Pyne and Mr. Harrison have, with their we) selected company, recently elevated the standard national music for the encouragement of English a and artists, with the success which their energy at ability so amply deserve. Daring the Easter week, " Faust and Marguerite was again brought forward, supported by two lig pieces, entitled respectively, " A Prince for an Hour and the " Victor Vanquished;" the first by Mr. J. J Morton, the last by Mr. Charles Dance. One introduce the other concluded, the performances. Both we favourably received, and acted for more than fifty nighi The "Victor Vanquished," a comedietta in one a rather than a farce, is an ingeniously contrived ai elegant little drama, abounding in pointed and sparklh dialogue. Tlie characters are confined to three,- Charles the Tivelfth. of Sweden, the Baron de Gortz, \ private secretary and minister, and Ikla, a Tart princess, the Baron's niece. It can scarcely be call historical, for the leading incident implies that the i| nowned Alexander of the North once bowed to t! influence of Cupid, — an assumed fact of which we ha no evidence, but still permissible as a dramatic libert even where such an acknowledged misogynist is co cerned. The traditional attributes of Charles the Twelfi with his singular peculiarities of manner and dre; are so familiarly recognized, that when he appears < the stage, we are prepared to look on a well-knov animated portrait stepping from the frame. Mr. Matthews, his impersonator on this occasion, had e^ dently studied the Royal Swede with the care of discriminating artist, and presented him in living ide tity. No particular feature was overdone ; while t clear, succinct phraseology, and unique, decisive bearin were faithfully preserved. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 167 ^ i On the 28tli of April, Shakespeare's " Winter's Tale " iij I added another to the series of great classical illustrations i|, I by which Mr. C. Kean continued with unremitting per- jj I severance to mark the distinctive feature of his manage- j ment. ,J5 1 When it began to be rumoured that a Greek play was lij I in rehearsal at the Princess's, with all the usual prepara- Iflj 1 tion and research, many thought that ]\Ir. Kean was jl I about to venture on the bold experiment of going back l^ , to first principles, and intended to draw from the stores ^ of the early fathers of the drama, Sophocles or Euri- ,i^ pides. When it became known that the projected re- vival was to be Shakespearean, the " Comedy of Errors," " Troilus and Cressida," " Pericles," or " Timon of Athens," presented themselves as the probable subject of selection ; but no one thought of the " Winter's Tale." ,, , I No sooner was the fact announced in the bills, than there arose much difference of opinion as to the judi- ciousness of the choice, and the means it supplied. "What can be done with the "Winter's Tale"? was asked by experienced play-goers. The plot was known a, I to be incongruous, the play full of anachronisms, uncer- j|j I tain in epoch, confused in locality, irregular beyond all ,, I precedent or comparison in constructi9n, and hitherto i^;. I unattractive. These objections were pronounced insur- ^ mountable. ]\Ir. Kean grappled them with a compelling ^^ j hand, and triumphed over all Without altering the ^j^. I original text, but merely by pruning and excision, he [ i, dissipated conflicting difficulties which had baffled the ingenuity, and developed innumerable beauties which had escaped the notice of his most eminent pre- decessors. After the re-opening of the theatres on the extinction of the Commonwealth, and the return of Charles II., the genius of Shakespeare suffered a long eclipse, or only 168 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TOIES glimmered faintly through the vile imitations and altera tions which the corrupt taste of the day permitted t supersede the majestic originals. Downes, in his Rosciu Anglicanus (1708), mentions that during a protractec series of years, and in a list of fifty-one plays, frequently represented, only three of Shakespeare's are to be found ;- so little was the great dramatist known and followed a that time. Garrick swept away many of these worthies substitutes, but he still retained some, and added a fcT of his own when it suited his purpose. Shakespeare has been condemned by worshippers o the unities for making Perdita an infant in the third act and a woman in the fourth, passing over sixteen year with a short address from Time as Chorus, to explah the intermediate lapse. The censure is more hasty thai; sound. His play, thus divided, is, in fact, a hilogy ; \ story related in two distinct sections — a preliminary an( a sequel, — strictly in accordance with classical rule anc precedent. Garrick destroyed the connexion by omitting the first part of the action, and opening the second witl a short narrative only of the events that had occurred namely, the jealousy of Leontes, the assumed death o Hermione, and the exposure of her infant. To feel anc understand Shakespeare, we must take him as he is " with all his imperfections on his head," or reject hin altogether, ^^grescitque medendo — by being cured h( grows sick. Scenes may be cut out or curtailed, anc objectionable superfluities may be expunged ; but there is something so clear, comprehensive, and identical ii all Shakespeare's designs, that any material alteratior mars them entirely. John Kemble cast aside Garrick'f condensation of the " Winter's Tale," but retained hii added dialogue in the last scene. Macready did the same. As actors, they thought the parts of Hermiorn and Leontes heightened by having more to say at the OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 169 close, Shakespeare, guided by nature, knew that, under the circumstances of their unlooked-for re-union, they would feel more than tliey could utter, and has given them very few words. Mr. C. Kean, by adhering to the original text, has proved himself the ablest commentator and most faithful restorer of the poet's meaning. His object is well conveyed in the passage with which he concludes the prefatory notice attached to the play- bills : — " I have endeavoured," he there says, " and I hope not altogether in vain, by the united accessories of painting, music, and architecture, in conjunction with the rapid movements and multiplied life which belong to the stage alone, to re-embody the past ; trusting that the combination may be considered less an exhibition of pageantry appealing to the eye, than an illustration of history addressed to the understanding." Our readers are as well acquainted as we are with the sources from whence Shakespeare has drawn his plot, the new characters he has created,* the exquisite poetry he has scattered through the play, and the graceful sur- prise with which he winds up the catastrophe. We pass from any trite dissertation on these points, which have been so often discussed, to a review of the play as pro- duced at the Princess's Theatre. It now belongs to the past, and is not likely to be witnessed again ; although Messrs. Bradbury and Evans's printed edition supplies all that reading can substitute for the animated reality. As the curtain rose, we saw before us Syracuse at the epoch of her highest prosperity, about 330 B.C., and gazed on the fountains of Arethusa and the temple of Minerva. After the short introductory scene between CamiUo and Archidamus, we passed to the banqueting- hall in the Royal palace, where Leontes, Polixenes, Her- mione, and guests were discovered reclining on couches, * Antifjonus, Paulina, Autolycus, &nii. Clown. 170 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES after the manner of the ancient Greeks. Musicians were playing the hymn to AjwUo, and slaves supplied wine and garlands. Thirty-six resplendently handsome young girls, representing youths in complete warlike panoply, entered, and performed the evolutions of the far-famed Pyrrhic dance. The effect was electrical, and established \ at the commencement an impression of what might be expected as the play advanced. The action then pro- , ceeded, with the frenzied jealousy of Leontes, his com- | mission to Gamillo to murder PoHxenes, and the escape , of the two latter by flight. At the commencement of the second act we were pre- sented with a beautiful interior, representing Hermione in her domestic privacy, surrounded by the young Prince Mamillitis, and her attendant ladies. They are interrupted by the violent entrance of the King, whose insane delusion has increased with the departure of Polixenes, and the innocent Queen is borne away to prison. In the next scene, a representation of one of j the dreary "Latomise," or excavated dungeons, known I ' as the " Ear of Dionysius," conveyed a corresponding j i idea of the severity with which the guiltless Hermione j ^ is treated. We then return to the palace, and find Leontes still torn by groundless passion, and meditating extreme vengeance. Paulina enters with the new-bom infant, lays it at his feet, upbraids him with his tyranny, and defends her absent mistress in a torrent of indignant eloquence, until she is driven from the apartment. Anti- gonus, her husband, is sworn by the King, on a most solemn oath, involving his own life in pledge of obedi- ence, to convey the babe to a remote, desert land, and leave it there exposed to the chances of fortune. The third act comprised the trial of Queen Hermione in the public theatre at Syracuse, the usual hall of judg- ment on great public occasions. The arrangement of OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 171 the stage here presented an astonishing instance of scenic illusion. The area is extremely limited ; yet, by pictorial and mechanical combination, it appeared to expand to the colossal proportions which we read of as belonging to the most celebrated of those ancient build- ings in which thirty thousand persons might be seated on the benches.* A wonderful realization was presented by the dense assembly of auditory and officials ; by the imposing appearance of the King on his throne, with sages and councillors ranged behind and on each side of him ; by the arraigned Queen, borne in on her litter, with attendant females ; and by the solemn procession of the Oracle. When these were grouped together, and the varying emotions of the whole assembly reflected in animated gesticulation and expression, as the incidents of the scene proceeded, — the rapt, intense attention of the entire house suspended applause for the moment ; but at the close they relieved themselves by reiterated bursts of acclamation. The excitement had scarcely subsided, when, after a considerable interval, the curtain rose again for the fourth act. In this portion of the play Mr. C. Kean substituted Bithynta for Bohemia. The idea originated with Sir i Thomas Hanmer, in his annotations to his own edition I of Shakespeare (1744). The change of locality obviates j the cavil that has often been raised against the incon- I gruity of making Bohemia a country bordering on the j sea. The difference of name, as Mr. Kean observes in I his preface, " in no way affects the incidents or metre ■ of the play, while it affords an opportunity of represent- j ing the costume of the inhabitants of Asia Minor at I a corresponding period, associated so intimately with * The Theatre of Bacchus at Atliens could accommodate this num- ber. Syracuse at one time exceeded even Athens in extent and external magnificence. 172 TUR LIFE AND THEATIJICAL TIMES Greece, professing the same form of paganism, and acquiring additional interest from close proximity to the Homeric kingdom of Troy." Antigomis lands on a desert spot on the coast, and leaves the infant Perdita to her fate. His vessel, with all on board, is wrecked, and he himself torn to pieces hy a bear. An old shepherd and liis son find the child, with the accompanying gold and jewels, and bear it off to be reared in humble obscurity. Clouds now descended and filled the stage, leading to a classical allegory, repre- senting the course of Time. As these clouds dispersed, Selene, or Luna, was discovered in her car, acccompanied by the Stars (personified by living figures), and gra- dually sunk into the ocean. Time then appeared, surmounting the globe, no longer represented by the traditionary bald-headed elder, with his scythe and hour- glass, but as a classical figure, more in accordance with the character of the play as now represented. He spoke the lines with which Shakespeare has connected the two separate epochs of his play. As Time descended, Phoebus rose with surpassing brilliancy in the chariot of the Sun, encircled by a blaze of light which filled every portion of the theatre. The group appeared to be de- rived from that in the centre of Flaxman's Shield of Achilles. The horses were modelled with a life and fire that would have done honour to Baron Marochetti himself. The statue-like grace and immobility of Apollo, as he stood in the car, reining in his impetuous steeds, im- pressed a universal conviction that this figure also was artificial ; but the living reality was conveyed in the most startling manner, when, at the full height of his ascent, he suddenly raised his right arm to lash a restive courser. The effect bafiles description. The entire allegory may be pronounced the greatest triumph of I art ever exhibited on the stage. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 173 As the allegorical ])ictures dissolved, we found our- gelves transported to the palace of Polixenes, in Bithynia, and thence to a road-side landscape, where we were in- troduced to the merry knave Aiitohjcus, in the practice of his thieving- vocation, derived, as he tells us, from his father ; his first victim being the unsuspecting Cloivn. An extensive pastoral scene succeeded, rich in the luxu- riance of Eastern foliage, with a distant view of Nicaja, the capital of Bithynia, on the lake Ascania. Nothing could be more delightful than this complete change from the gorgeous palatial magnificence of the earlier portion of the play ; and in this contrast of sylvan, as opposed to city life, with the appropriate dialogue and imagery he has placed in the mouths of his new actors, the endless variety of Shakespeare's genius is most beauti- fully depicted. A dance of shepherds and shepherdesses comes in so naturally, and was performed with such exquisite grace, and a musical accompaniment so com- pletely in harmony with the scene, that we almost Ifl fancied ourselves in Arcadia during the golden age. The feeling thus produced on the mind of the spectator, is imbued with the refined sentiment gathered from the contemplation of a landscape by Gainsborough, or the Infant John of Murillo. From this delicious dream we were roused by the boisterous merriment of the Dionysia, or grand festival of the vintage, in honour of Bacchus, executed by an overpowering mass of satyrs, men, women, and children, in wild disguises, and with frantic energy. There must have been at least three hundred persons engaged in this revel of organized confusion, which worked up to a maddening burst at the end, when they all rushed out, presenting a perfect revivifica- tion of Comus and his Bacchanalian crew. The act terminated with the discovery of PoUxenes, wiio had attended the rustic fcotival in disguise ; his bitter dcnun- 174 THB LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES elation of tlie attachment of his son and lieir, Florizel, for the supposed shepherdess Perdita ; and the conse- quent flight of the young lovers to Sicily, through the agency of Gamillo. The fifth act is curtailed with infinite advantage, and hastens rapidly to the conclusion. The garden of Leontes, adapted from a drawing found at Herculaneum, exhibited the bereaved monarch, bowed down more by remorse than time, mourning the result of his madness, which has left him alone in his guilt and fruitless penitence. Florizel, Perdita, Gamillo, and Polixenes arrive in succession. The King discovers his lost daughter, and the long-severed friends are reconciled. But a crowning happiness is still in store for Leontes, which he little deserves. Paulina invites him to her mansion to look on a marvellous statue of his deceased Queen. It is herself ; and instond of inanimate marble, he embraces living forgiveness. This closing scene has ever formed the great charm of the play. Mr. C. Kean contrived to invest it with such imposing novelty, that although it wound up a long series of extraordinary effects, each rising above the other, it surpassed them all. The procession by torchlight, the passing round the peristyle within which the statue is placed, the grouping when Hermione was discovered, the expression of wonder at the first stir of her head, and the general movement as the curtain falls, are all within the ample list of his own stage improvements, and the result of the unwearied study and research he brought to bear on this captivating drama, from the beginning to the end. The action of the " Winter's Tale" turns entirely on the sudden jealousy of Leontes. Shakespeare has exhibited this overwhelming passion in three opposite characters, and under very distinct aspects. With OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S A. 175 comic extravagance in Ford, with progressing passion in Othello, and with frenzied suddenness in Leontes. In the latter instance he has been censured by methodical critics, who accuse him of abruptly departing from nature. The jealousy of Leontes, according to them, is unskilfully imagined, in being so utterly baseless, and in the little preparation with which the coming torrent is presented in such overbearing rapidity to the audience. He has no subtle poisoner, no lago to pervert a mind easily excited. But before we question the workings of jealousy, let us remember what the great master says in another place of the nature of this impulse, which he has depicted with such terrible energy :— " Jealous souls— are not ever jealous for the cause, But jealous for they are jealous ; 'tis a monster, Begot upon itself, horn on itself.^'' Othello is gi-adually wrought upon by treachery; ^% Leontes creates and feeds his own disease. When he ^ [utters to himself the first words indicating that the fever "^ is on him—" At my request he would not," with refer- ence to the yielding of PoUxenes to prolong his stay at the entreaty of Eermione, and again when he says soon ■ after, — " Too hot, too hot ! To mingle friendship far, is mingling bloods ;" the audience wonder, and are unable to comprehend his meaning unless prepared for it by something in his previous deportment. Mr. C. Kean, with the compre- Jiensive genius of a great actor, leads up to this from c jthe opening of the scene. The idea, which we never Is jobserved to have been conveyed by any preceding f [representative, appeared to the audience as original as it was artistically executed. By Mr. Kean's arrange- 176 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES ment of tlie stage, Hermione is seated at the foot of the couch of Leontes, in earnest conversation with Polixenes, their guest, who bends forward to address her. Leontes anxiously watches them, as if his mind were already disturbed by the suspicion of undue intimacy ; and when they descended to the front, after the conclusion of the banquet, his manner of soliciting his friend to remain, and his demeanour in their subsequent dialogue, was at intervals cold though courteous, studied but not warm, diplomatic more than affectionate, an effort of the tongue rather than a desire of the heart. It told the story of what was to come, and the profound study with ; which the actor had mastered the subtle conception ■■ of his author. In the following interview with Camillo, ; when Leontes gives way entirely to the demon that possesses him, the expression of Mr. Kean's eye, and the rapid variation of his features, resembled the flash which precedes the thunderbolt and heralds in the approaching storm. Throughout the second act, he sustained the torrent of passion with unabated fervour ; and in the third, at the trial, calmed down to a collected sternness of manner, in tone with the solemnity of the proceedings. His agony of remorse at the end, when the sudden deaths of his wife and son are aiuiounced in quick succession, and the total change in his deportment from the stern despot to the stricken man, marked the care and intelligence with which he felt and threw out in strong variety, the multiplied shades of the character. Shakespeare has beautifully relieved this play, by the pastoral episode which occupies the fourth act. In that fifth, we retm-n to the court of the bereaved monarchal bereaved through his own mad intemperance. Whem Mr. Kean came into his garden, broken in spirit, faded-i OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 177 n form, and pi-ematurely old, the contrast he presented the manly vigour we had beheld in the earlier scenes, Lgain demonstrated the perfect mastery of the actor *! i)ver liis art. His reception of Florizel and Perdita ^"1 {vas touchingly subdued, and the instinctive atfection ■'* jdth which he gazed on the lovely shepherdess prepared '* jhe audience for the recognition. But Leontes has yet 5^( Inother revulsion of feeling to undergo before his part is "*! [■ver. From hopeless sorrow and unavailing repentance e is raised to inexpressible happiness, by finding that he supposed statue of his long-mourned Queen is her ving self. Here the poet has given Leontes little ) say ; but he has left him a world of meaning to 3nvey by look and expressive gesture, more eloquent lan words. What shall we say of Mrs. C. Kean's Hermione — liether in appearance, costume, manner, elocution, or i- pnception? It was exquisite throughout. The cha- licter is thoroughly feminine, and divested of resentful K ielings. Even when her life is in imminent danger, i le grieves more for the "crown and comfort" of that fe, her lord's favour, and for the apprehension of a taint ,1 her fair fame, than for any dread of extreme punish- ife lent. She has no angiy feelings against Leontes, even f. jhile he is destroying her. When Shakespeare drew IK lis and other enchanting ideals of physical and moral aiK yrfection, he must have foreseen in poetical perspective I ijat a time would come when, instead of being imper- ii fjnated by youths, as in his ruder age, they would find ipre congenial representatives in lovely and accomplished f. "jjmen. fii [There is not the intense passion developed in Hermione BE ijat characterises her more fiery husband ; but there is f- ^ual variety of feeling, with superior grace, and the V fded charm of innocence wrongfully accused. We VOL. TL N 178 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES cannot understand the criticism of Horace Walpole, who considers that Shakespeare intended the " Winter's Tale " as a sequel to " Henry the Eighth ;" and we are still more confounded when we are told of the strong similarity between Hermione and Katharine of Arragon. ^L Both are exposed to a trial, it is true, but under circum- \ (^ stances as distinct as their respective demeanour. In the case of Katliarine, the trial is a mere judicial pro- ceeding for a divorce ; in that of Hermione, it is a solemn indictment for life or death. These trials establish no more relationship or comparison between the two heroines than honest Fluellen is able to make out between Aleo> andcr the Great and Harry of Monmouth, on much the same line of argument ; namely, that there is a river in Macedon and another in Wales. In the celebrated statue scene, wliich concludes the play, Mrs. C. Kean's interpretation of the poet's meaning differs entirely from that of her most eminent prede- cessors. A graceful or imposing attitude has been often assumed ; but she adopts that which accords exactly with the language of tlie text. Leontes says : — " Oh, thus she stood, Eveii'witli such life of majesty,— When first I woo'd'.her ! " The position directly implied maiden bashfulness, listen- ing to a favoured suitor : and wlien, at the proper time, she gently raised her head, and extended her right arm, the action spoke, " Take me, I am yours," more emphati- cally than words could have conveyed the sentiment, j The chisel of Phidias or Praxiteles never wrought an \ e&^gj in marble to surpass the motionless beauty and grace of this noble figure, — motionless and still as air, until summoned into life. Her manner of descending from tlie pedestal, and her silent embrace of Leontsa, OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.4. 179 ►oke returning affection more powerfully than could ,ve done a volume of words. The youthful lovers, Florizel and Perdita, found arming impersonators in Miss Heath and Miss C. iciercq, who looked, moved, and spoke as if they had f,en born and bred in a sylvan paradise. When a- 182 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES rating from M, Vestris, she returned to England in 1819 She engaged with Elliston, at that time manager c Drmy Lane, and shortly after established her fame h a burlesque of Mozart's grand opera, called " Giovanc in London," in which she, as the hero, and Harley a Lepoi-eUo, created an extraordinaiy sensation. Fror that time she continued a leading favourite in the ligh range of the drama, both at Co vent Garden and Drur Lane, until in 1829 she became lessee of the Olympi Theatre, which she speedily transformed into one of th most fashionable temples of the dramatic art in Londo: — a perfect theatrical boudoir. In the year 1888, Madame Vestris, whose first hus band had died in 1825, married Mr. Charles Mathews and, leaving the Olympic under the management of M; Planche, they started immediately for America. Th stars of the Olympic made but a slight impression o Cousin Jonathan, and retui-ned to England in 1839, i the September of which year they entered on the lesse( ship of Covent Garden. Here Madame Vestris introduce the system of furnishing the drawing-rooms of moder comedy with the sumptuous elegance of the saloons ( the nobility. But the plan was too expensive for tl receipts, althougli the company comprised a host ( talent, and the best writers were retained to supply constant succession of novelty. The lessees retired wit a heavy loss at the end of their third season, in Apri 1842. In 1847 they opened the Lyceum, where theo) Olympic revels were revived, and many of the form<; actors and authors once more rallied under their formt standard. Madame Vestris played several new parts < importance ; but latterly, as her strength began to fai she principally confined herself to the direction of tl stage, and the charge of the wardrobe, in both of whic departments she evinced extraordinary taste and talen OP CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 183 Her name will long be remembered as one of the most ''f attractive actresses and agreeable singers of her day. Her peculiar excellences lay in a natural ease, grace- fulness, and vivacity, without apparent effort ; in the 'J lelegance of her costumes; and in her scrupulous adhe- '; [rence to the text of the author, even in the lightest of "; ifarces or interludes. k \ 184 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES CHAPTER IX. SEVENTH SEASON UNDER MR. C. KEAN'S MANAGEMENT, AT THE PRINCESS's THEATRE— REVIVAL OF SHERIDAN'S PIZARRO, WITH ALTERATIONS AND; ADDITIONS PREFATORY NOTICE DIFFERENT OPINIONS AS TO THE, LITERARY MERIT OF THE PLAY— MR. AND MRS. C. KEAN AS ROLLA AND ELVIRA HISTORICAL MISTAKE OF KILLING PIZARRO IN THE ORIGINAL PLAY GREAT SUCCESS OF THE PRESENT REVIVAL, SIXTY-EIGHT REPETITIONS — NEXT SHAKESPEAREAN PERFORMANCE A MIDSUMMER night's dream— EARLY ALTERATIONS OF THIS PLAY— GARRICK's OPERA IN 1763 — THE FAIRIES REPRESENTED BY CHILDREN — COLMAN's ADAP- TATION IN 1777 — REYNOLDS'S MUSICAL VERSION AT COVENT GARDEN IN 1816 MADAM VESTRIS'S REVIVAL AT COVENT GARDEN, AND MR. PHELPS'S AT Sadler's wells— both excellent — mr. c. kean's besto-: BATION of the ORIGINAL PLAY BUNS FOR ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY, NIGHTS DURING THE FIRST TWO SEASONS— THE ROSE OF AMIENS, A COMEDY IN TWO ACTS, AND THE PANTOMIME OF ALADDIN, BOTH BY MR. J. M. MORTON. Mr. C. Kean's seventh season commenced on Monday,- September 1st, 1856, after a short recess of one week only. On this occasion, he revived Sheridan's adapta- tion of Kotzebue's " Pizarro," a play that enjoyed great reputation in its day, but had not been acted in London for many years. The subject was entirely new to the present generation. The reasons for this selection were set forth by Mr. Kean in the following preface, ap-! pended to the play-bills, and newly printed edition : — " The success which has attended a series of historical illustrations at the Princess's Theatre, can leave no reason- able doubt that public taste approves this description of entertainment. In compliance, therefore, with an opiniou so unequivocally conveyed, I have sought for a fresh chapter in the pages of the past, which may combine OP CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 185 with the revival of a popular play, appertaining to a deeply interesting period, much that is novel in the accompanying arrangements. " Heretofore, with the exception of ' Sardanapalus/ the subjects have been chosen from the creations of Shakespeare. In the present instance, I have selected the well-known drama of ' Pizarro/ for the purpose of exemplifying the customs, ceremonies, and religion of Peru at the time of the Spanish invasion. " The discovery of the Western hemisphere, by Chris- topher Columbus (the most astounding achievement in the annals of human enterprise), opened a way to the numerous successors of that illustrious pioneer, who penetrated region after region of the vast continent, eager for conquest and for gain. " Europe received the startling intelligence, that in- stead of being occupied by tribes of rude and ignorant savages, Mexico and Peru teemed with millions of humanized beings, far advanced in civilization, power, and refinement. " In fact, ' Pizarro ' and his followers had found the Kingdom of the Incas inhabited by an industrious, disci- plined population, united under the sway of a paternal government, possessing numerous works of art, and many national memorials. While nature appeared to revel in her grandest and most picturesque aspect, the land abounded with precious gems and metals to such an extent, that amidst the gardens of temples and palaces, trees and plants of gold and silver, most exqui- sitely manufactured, stood intermingled with natural productions. Birds of the same costly materials were seen upon the artificial branches, and the interior of the great Temple of the Sun, the most magnificent struc- ture in the new world, was probably unsurpassed in the richness of its decorations by any building in the old. 186 THE LirE AND THEATRICAL TIMES *' In the production of * Sardanapalua/ in 1853, I availed myself of the discoveries of Layard and Botta, to place before the public a restoration of one of the earliest cities enrolled in the world's record. On the present occasion^ I venture to hope that a correspond- ing interest may be excited by the revival of an epoch equally wonderful, although dating little more than three hundred years antecedent to the present time. " By the recent excavations in Assyria, entombed races were raised before the eyes of the living ; while through the adventurous and unscrupulous spirit of the Spanish conquerors of America, in the sixteenth cen- tury, vast nations, buried in obscurity, unknowing and unknown, were revealed in active existence, occupied with the pursuits of cultivated life. We read, with sur- prise mingled with awe, of an extensive empire, whose mysterious origin is lost in the labyrinth of ages, con- fined within its own limits, seeking no external inter- course; — of a people dwelling in towns and hamlets, clustered amidst orchards and gardens, constructing canals and subterraneous aqueducts, canying roads over plains and across mountains, forming beautiful terraces on the sides of the Cordilleras, which bloomed with every variety of vegetation ; rich in flocks, that supplied garments of the finest wool, victims for the altar, and viands for the banquet ; erecting palaces for their Incas, and temples for their God, with a profusion of wealth within the walls that almost rivalled the marvels of Arabian fable ; and what is most remarkable, enjoying the intellectual and refined amusement of a poetical drama ! " In adapting the selected play to the purposes of historical illustration, passages have been abbreviated which appeared unimportant, and several additions made to carry out the object chiefly in view. For OF THAT^LES KEAX, F.S.A. 187 instance, at tlie dose of the third act, I have introduced the principal square of tlie city during the grand festival of Rayrai, the most magnificent and imposing of all the Peruvian religious ceremonies, which was solemnized with feasting, dancing, music, and song. On this occa- sion, when the Grand Luminary was worshipped as a visible god, chiefs, princes, and people, male and female, of every rank, assembled in countless multitudes, and marched in procession variously attired. Some wore the skins of animals, some appeared as angels, with wings of the condor, some in horrible masks threw them- selves into postures like maniacs, while others displayed their characteristic ornaments and warlike arms. High above the joyous crowd, borne on the shoulders of his subjects and seated in his golden chair, came the monarch, prepared to pour out the consecrated wine as a libation to the deity. All advanced to greet with profound admiration the rising sun, which, having arrived at the farthest point of its meridianal career, began to retrace its course to the north. Long and loud were the shouts of joy, songs of triumph, and bursts of clamorous music, when the first rays gilded the summits of the neighbouring mountain range, and the excited multitude inhaled the atmosphere impreg- nated with light. As we possess little information respecting ' Quito ^ (the place named by the dramatist), — the interior of the temple, in the second act, and the view of the city in the third, are taken from the de- sci'iptions so amply given of ' Cuzco/ the ancient capital of the empire, once the scene of so much glory and magnificence. " The Indian airs introduced into the music are founded on melodies published in Rivero and Tschudi's work on ' Peruvian Antiquities,^ as handed down to us by the Spaniards after their conquest. 188 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES " By the revival of ' Pizarro/ long known as a most attractive play, I cannot but think that a wide field is afforded for the introduction of that historical detail which lends new interest to theatrical art. The present age demands that all dramatic representations must of necessity be accompanied by a certain selection of scenery, dresses, and music. The public voice has justified me in deciding that truth in these matters is preferable to inaccuracy. Hence I conclude, that when an appropriate opportunity is embraced of blending in- struction Avith amusement, when the mind may be informed while the eye is gratified, the drama is not likely to lose or be degraded by the attempted associa- tion." "Pizarro" was first acted at Drury Lane, on the 24th of May, 1799 ; too late in the season for the necessary run, which ended on the thirty-first night when the theatre closed. Neither duns from without, nor the bankrupt state of his exchequer, could rouse Sheridan to finish the play in time. He was unacquainted with German, and worked from previous Eughsh transla- tions of Kotzebue, of which there were three or four,* although none had been acted. The literary pretensions of "Pizarro" are certainly not of a high order, and have been reduced by some writers to a contemptible standard. A story is told that, during the season wlien the " Castle Spectre " filled the exhausted treasury of Drury Lane, Sheridan and Monk Lewis (as he was called), the author, had some dispute in the green-room, when the latter offered, in confirmation of his arguments, to bet Mr. S. all the money which the " Castle Spectre '' had brought, that he was right. " No,'' replied the manager, " I cannot afford to bet so much as that ; but I will tell * By I\Iiss Plumptie, M. G. Lewis, and Heron. I OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 1 S9 you what I will do, I'll bet you all it is worth." The witticism was as rich as it was ungrateful, and might have justified a similar retort from the Monk in the case of " Pizarro." Between the two plays it would be difficult to settle the point of inferiority. No speech was ever better calculated to entrap applause than Rollas address to the soldiers, which is entirely Sheridan's, and not in the original. It was evidently intended as a taking reference to the war with the French Republic, and a philippic against the principles of the Revolution ; yet nothing is said which might not with equal propriety be addressed to an army of Peruvians. Such was the popularity of this tragedy, that the King, George III., could not resist his desire to see it. He had ceased to visit Drury Lane for several years. Many causes have been assigned for his absence from that particular theatre, some sufficiently absurd ; such as a personal dislike to Sheridan, because he was a Whig, a partisan of Fox, and an intimate associate of the Prince of Wales ; but the most probable reason was, that he had commanded two pieces, which, on account of the com- plicated machinery, could not be acted on the same evening, unless the King consented to wait two or three hours between the play and the farce. The intimation of the difficulty was given in a manner not considered as consonant Avith court etiquette. The juniors of the present generation who had never seen " Pizarro " until now, had often heard their fathers speak of John Kemble and Mrs. Siddons in Rolla and Elvira ; of the glories of the Temple of the Sun, and of the peals of applause that attended the delivery of the Peruvian leader's far-famed oration to his army. There was fine acting in those days, and splendour and scenic pageantry too, after a certain 190 THE LIFE AND THEATKICAL TIMES fashion; but there was little attempt at historical truth ; no multitudes to fill the stage, uo studied groupings, and no complicated action, in M'hich every supernumerary engaged had a part to play, as essen- tial to the completeness of the general picture, as the imposing attitudes and declamation of the hero or heroine. Instead of addressing an assembled nation, Rolla spoke to some dozen and a half of discharged veterans, who reminded the audience of the Pope's body-guard, described by Voltaire as old ladies who mount guard with umbrellas, and make war on •nobody. They stood on each side of the stage, ranged in single file, with changeless aspects, and shouted feebly at the close of the general's harangue, without movement of limb or feature. Pizarro's tent, with which the play opened, resembled the gorgeous pavi- lion of a Persian satrap, and was large enough for the residence of Tippoo Saib and his harem. There lay Elvira on a sumptuous sofa, with a regal tiara, an embroidered robe, and an interminable train of crimson velvet, which swept the stage as she rose and moved across with measured, queen-like steps. In the German play, Elvira is habited as a page, in male attire, but this was a dress that Mrs. Siddons refused to wear. We remember, too, the lasting impression made on our boyish fancy by the miraculous transit of a ball of lighted tow, which descended upon the altar, in the temple scene, by means of an invisible wire ; and how Rolla, to bribe the sentinel, produced from under his cloak a modern red-morocco jewel-case, similar to that which ladies lay upon their dressing-tables. There were many other monstrous incongruities, but they passed without notice, for the age had not then been impressed with the conviction that " truth in such matters of detail was preferable to inaccuracy." OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 191 The most objectionable point in the original arrange- ment of the play, was the ill-contrived and almost ludicrous manner in which retributive justice was dealt on Pizarro, who, after being bullied through five acts by Alonzo, Elvira, and Rolla, in succession, was killed unfairly in the end ; as Porson commemorates in his amusing parody : — " Four acts are tol, lol ; but the fifth's my delight, Where history's trac'd with the pen of a Varro ; And Elvira in black and Alonzo in white Put an end to the piece by killing Pizarro." It is but just to the memory of Kotzebue to remark that this departure from historical fact was a gratui- tous interpolation by Sheridan, a compliance with what was then the prevailing taste of the play-going public, dragged in to excite the plaudits of the gallery, and to foreshadow the fate of the invader with whom England was menaced. Every schoolboy might have known and remembered that Pizarro lived to con- quer Peru, and was finally assassinated in his viceregal palace at Lima, by the son and friend of his early associate, Almagro, whom he had executed some years before. The omission of this fictitious episode in Mr, Kean's new arrangement, removed what had always been considered an impediment and error, by icontinuing the action after the death of Rolla. It iwas a skilful exercise of the callida junctura which denoted clear critical perception, and sound managerial judgment. A comparison between Mr. C. Kean's printed ver- sion, and the earlier one of Sheridan, will show at once the value and amount of the alterations and introduc- tions. The most important of the latter were the mili- tary chorus, and march of the Spanish troops at the 192 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES end of the first act, and the grand Peruvian festival of Rayrai, Avhich concluded the third. The gradual approach of the rising sun, with the effect of the expanding beams in this scene, and the earlier one of the sacrifice in the temple, was gorgeous, imposing, and novel beyond all precedent. The return of the Peruvian army in triumph from the battle, with the accompanying gratulatious of their wives and children, called up reminiscences of the recent national demon- stration, when the surviving heroes of the Guards, on their return from the Crimea, marched through the streets of London. The management of RoUas escape with Coras child, was another point that utterly bewildered the audience. Instead of the old- fashioned mode of cutting down a rustic bridge, that looked as if arranged for the purpose, he swung himself by the pendent branch of a tree across a tre- mendous chasm, and being mortally struck by the musketry of the Spanish soldiers, in the passage, was seen staggering through the rocks and glades until he disappeared in the distance, the effect of perspective being carried out by a duplicate figure of smaller size, which gave rise to endless conjectures and argu- ments as to how this optical delusion could be contrived. Mrs. C. Kean could never have seen Mrs. Siddons in Elvira, or she might have involuntarily moulded her conception upon that of such an illustrious prede- cessor. This fortunately was impossible, and has given us an original portraiture, instead of an imposing copy. Mrs. Siddons looked and moved the tragedy queen, with an innate air of regality she could never entirely forget. She w^as stately, grand, impressive, tremendous ; but she lacked flexibility, and it was difficult to associate with her the idea that she was a OF CHARLES KEAN, F S.A. 1 9o being who could be led by ardent feeling into a position of subserviency to a spirit inferior to her own. INIrs. C. Kean was more like a warm-hearted, impulsive svoman, governed by excited imagination, more full of "eminine sympathy, and, if we may be permitted to jarry out the antithetical comparison, less fearful, but nore agreeable. In her hands the character became ;oftened without being rendered weak. She represented Elvira as goaded and perverted by insult rather than )y injury. The distinction is as true to nature, as it is jlearly conveyed. " I have suffered at the hands of ?izarro^' she says to Rolla, " as deeply as scorn and mult can infuse their deadly wounds." Her demeanour ind conduct bear out what Junius has so truthfully jiid down as an axiom in the complications of the |uman heart: — "Injuries may be atoned for and for- liven, but insults admit of no compensation ; they jegrade the mind in its own esteem, and force it to jcover its level by revenge.'^ RoUa is a more amiable stage creation. He may 5 unnaturally perfect, but he is infinitely interesting, [e moves through the play the cynosure of universal imiration. Every eye looks on him with delight, and rery ear greedily catches his accents. How angry we el with Cora for her preference of the comparatively .me Alonzo. Mr. C. Kean appeared to great advan- ge in this noble impersonation, than which nothing •Imld be more opposite to his Wolsey, Hamlet, or Louis \e Eleventh. He, too, like his accomplished partner, lust have studied exclusively from his own ideas. .>hn Kemble died long before he became an actor, and ')ung, the legitimate successor of the first i?oZ/«, retired nile Charles Kean was yet in his early novitiate. RoUa ns never amongst his father's acknowledged character'^, sd, on the few occasions when he performed it lu iVOL. II. u 104 THE LIFE AND THEATKICAL TIMES London, tlie play was either slurred over, or cooked |) ni a hurry for a benefit. Pizarro is one of those thankless tyrants who reqi'e an imposing appearance, with a dauntless, determiid bearing; a type of selfish ambition, as opposed to diu- terested patriotism. A more faithful reflection of tis stern warrior could not have been given than by I p. Ryder. Cooper was impressive in Orozembo ; and IV. is Heath displayed much tenderness in Cora. The seen y reflected the highest credit on Mr. Grieve and his a e assistants. The glowing luxuriance and warmth of So h American vegetation were transferred to the canvas mH the delicate finish of the richest cabinet painting. On the 15th of October, 1856, before the attractioDf " Pizarro" had begun to wane, " A Midsummer Nig 's Dream,'' was produced. This beautiful emanation )f Shakespeare's fancy may be considered, perhaps, e most exquisite specimen of graceful, imaginative, ;d harmonious composition that the mind of a great f:;t has ever conceived, or his pen transmitted to poster^. The prying investigation of commentators has tortu;d itself in vain attempts to discover any direct source!)r popular story from whence Shakespeare derived or c'l- structed his drama. All that they have been abho burrow out amounts to the coincidence of a few na);s which have been met with before, and a ver}'^ shit similarity between his fairies and those introducec n Michael Drayton's fantastical poem of " Nymphid " These frivolous disparagements have been hypercritic y set forward to detract from the original conceptioirf the most universal and discursive genius ever enclc d within a human form ; a genius which, with the sw;- ness of thought, could traverse and sui'pass the bou l- aries of the universe, control space and time, and in e woras of his own Puck, " put a girdle round about 4, OF C'lIAllLES KEAN, F.S.A. 195 earth in forty minutes/^ When Shakespeare -wrote for the emergencies of the theatre, he borrowed his subjects ifrom familiar tales, legends, or chronicles; when he niiiiiconiposed from pure inspiration and poetic impulse, he (lisijdrew upon his own exhaustless invention. )ft!J Garrick, when he revived "A Midsummer Night's ullDream" at Drury Lane, in 1763, omitted many of the llHmost poetical passages, which are so profusely scattered ceiithrough the play that they supply more standard quota- iMjtions than almost any other single production of the iiffijsame author. The manager also supposed that as fairies asijare generally associated with the idea of tiny, diminu- itive elves, it would be a happy thought to have Oberon, iiilTitania, and their attendant courts and familiars, repre- S seated by small children. The conception was a mis- iiioiltake, and the experiment a failure. The piece, thus m jmetamorphosed, was acted only once, to a thin Novem- ve iber audience who were cold and drowsy. Respect for eati phakespeare kept them silent, but that silence also ostti jinduced them to follow the example of the four lovcis, toit i«vho in one scene are all discovered lying fast asleep on ji],(j che stage, Shakespeare has endowed the fairy monarch |j[ and his queen with the language, feelings, sentiments, jjl; passions, and jealousies of matured humanity. They ^u ^peak, think, and act like real men and women, remind- ng us of Cupid, no longer the mythological infant, but he lover and husband of Psyche. None of the attributes ;iven to them could be adequately conveyed through the ,^ puerile organs of childhood. Consistency might to a pertain extent be imparted to the eye, but it was lost to the intelligence. Shakespeare's fairies delight in the oonlight revel on the noiseless grass; they are shadowy, herial, bright, elastic essences, gifted with supernatural )wer and refinement, continually mixing themselves up ith the affairs of mortals ; but we cannot figure them 2 19G THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES to our minds as bearing any resemblance to the lilli putian, household imps, so inseparably connected witl our nursery fables and recollections. It has been said, too, that the play is deficient ii dramatic interest ; that the lovers are tame, and tha Theseus and Hrppolyta do nothing. Assuredly it is no intended to embody a history of deep, concentratcf passion. There is no design of harrowing up the soul and of conveying the fearful lessons which are taugh bv "Othello," "Macbeth," or "Lear." To look fo:' violent, conflicting action, and collision of opposite cha^ racter, where the scene passes the boundaries of coramoi' nature, and the chief actors are etherialized beings flitting through boundless space, is to expect them when they can never be found, except in the incongruous tale;' of eastern enchantment. The interest and incidentij of Shakespeare's play amply suffice for the purpose ii' view, and he has combined them with the hand of i great master, and with skilful variety to produce wha he designed, — a fairy drama, A Midsummer Night\ Dream. If the mortals introduced had been renderec more prominent than the mythological agents, the entin construction and object of the play would have beei subverted. Shakespeare knew better than his critic: when, where, and how to bring his resources together and to balance them so as to preserve that just harniom' of proportion, which marks one of the most dehcatt| distinctions between ordinary ability and exalted genius' Very few of Shakespeare's immortalities have beer so unmercifully subjected to the transmuting proces: of the crucible as the "Midsummer Night's Dream.' As far back as the return of Charles II. (in 1661), comic actor named Cox, celebrated for a peculiar clas of drolls and farces, added this magnificent conceptioi' to the list of his mummeries, or rather a part of it, unde OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 197 le title of the " Humours of Bottom the Weaver." bout thirty years later (1692) it became an opera, and as called the " Fairy Queen." In 1716, a drunken iss singer, Leveridge by name, changed it into a asque, entitled, " Pyramus and Thisbe," from which became a mock opera in 1745, the music being sup- ied by a composer named Lampe. Ten years later, arrick produced it as ''The Fairies," with Italian iigers. Colman repeated a similar experiment in 77 ; and, in 1816, it was presented as a musical play i Covent Garden, with alterations and additions by /ederic Reynolds. The interpolations of the last-named v'iter wound up with a grand pageant, commemorative ( the triumphs of Theseus ; which same triumphs have 11 more connexion with the incidents and progress of te original drama, than a panorama of the battle of ^ ateiioo. Theseus himself is only a subordinate pivot, ( indicated point to connect the story. During Madame ^jstris^s management at Covent Garden, the true ^lakespearean version was restored, proving one of her Dst attractive cards. Mr. Phelps also included it in h list at Sadler's Wells. The two latter restorations , cserve to be mentioned in terms of the highest praise ; ^, tsy were steps in the right direction, although the ^ f Im of superiority must be assigned to the still more I rjjent revival by Mr. Kean, of which we are now jspaking. ' jln the "Midsummer Night's Dream," which is aJQost exclusively a creation of fancy, there is scarcely I ajy scope for that illustrative and historical accuracy, , d for that classical research, so peculiarly identified \iph Mr. Kean's system of mauagement, and with which hi name had now become almost synonymous : never- ' tpless, he availed himself of the few opportunities abrded by the subject, of carrying out his favourite 198 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES i plan. So little is known of Greek manners and arc tecture in the time of Theseus, twelve hundred yea; before the Christian era, and so probable is it that th buildings were of the rudest form, that any attempt t represent them on the stage would have failed in th intended object of profitable instruction. Holdin himself, for these reasons, " unfettered with regard 1 chronology," Mr. Kean presented ancient Athens to u' in the opening scene, at the culminating period of i magnificence, " as it would have appeared to one of i own inhabitants at a time when it had attained i greatest splendour in literature and art." His sch( lastic taste took advantage of the specified scene action, to place before the eyes of the spectators, on tl rising of the curtain, a restored view of that faraoi city, "standing in its pride and glory," which excited tl spontaneous sympathy, and called up some of the earlie and deepest impressions of every educated mind. "V^ saw, on the hill of the Acropolis, the far-famed Pa thenon, the Erichtheum, and the statue of the tutela goddess Minerva, or Athena ; by its side the theatre Bacchus ; in advance, the temple of Jupiter Olympi partially hiding the hall of the Museum ; and on t! right, the temple of Theseus. The view also includi the summit of that memorable eminence, *' from when the words of sacred truth were first promulgated to t Athenian citizens by apostolic inspiration." Nothing could exceed the consistent harmony wi which all the varied elements of the play were blend together. The introduction to the haunt of the supf natural beings ; the first appearance of Oberon a Titania, with their attendant trains ; the noiseless fo( steps of the dance on the moonlit greensward, with t shadowed reflection of every rapid and graceful mo^ ment ; the wood peopled with its innumerable fai OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 199 legions, whose voices lull their queen to sleep upon a bank of flowers ; the melodious music composed by Mendelssohn to the words of the author, in a strain and tone of feeling in intimate sympathy with the 'subject ; the perpetual change of scene and incident ; the shifting diorama; the beams of the rising sun glit- tering on the leaves; the gradual dispersion of the mist, discovering the fairy guardians, light and brilliant as ■gossamer, grouped around the unconsciously sleeping .mortals; the dazzling magnificence of tlie palace of Theseus at the close, thronged on every staircase, balustrade and corridor, with myriads of aerial beings, who join in an unseen and unheard epithalamium on the mortal inmates who have retired to rest;— these, in ■an endless succession of skilfully-blended, pictorial, 'mechanical, and musical effects, overpowered the facul- ties of the spectators M'ith the influence of an enchanting Ivision. Written description can convey but a faint idea ',, bf the glowing, animated reality. The monotonous ' Feelings of every-day life were forgotten, and we woke lifter a three hours' journey into another world, as if [[rom the recollection of a delicious dream. What more ionvincing evidence could be given of the potency of the a mention of the fact that " A Midsummer cam " was repeated for one hundred and fifty pights during this and the following season. : The actors ought not to be forgotten. The play contains 10 character suited to the abilities of Mr. and Mrs. C. Kean. Theseus of Athens, ruA Hippolyta, his Amazonian ^ueen, take the lead amongst the human personages. Hippolyta says little,while TV^esews has only to look heroic, ind speak some fine passages of poetry, never omitted in selections from the " beauties of Shakespeare." Both Ivere splendidly impersonated by Miss Murray and Mr. Ryder. Miss Heath and Miss Bufton, as Helena, ijonviucing t , spell than a '^:' jNight's Dre 200 THE LIFE AND Tin:ATRICAL TIMES Mild Hermia, were beautiful to gaze upon. Miss Fann; Ternan made a highly successful first appearance a Oheron, and Miss Carlotta Leclercq acquitted liersel with bewitching grace as Titania, the Fairy Queen The progress of this young lady may be quoted as ; remarkable evidence of the excellent training of thi Princess's Theatre. In six years, from a member o the corps de ballet, she became one of the most accom plished and versatile comic actresses of the presen day. Another presented itself in the precocious talen of Miss Ellen Terry, a child of eight years of age, wh( played the merry goblin, PucJc, a part that require; an old head on young shoulders^ with restless elfisl animation, and an evident enjoyment of her own mis- chievous pranks. For Bottom and his brother operatives' the " hard-handed " men of Athens, who gratify theii> own vanity and amuse their superiors with the tragic mirth of " Pyramus and Thisbe," we had Harley F. Matthews, Meadows, Saker, and F. Cooke. These rich comedians carried off the underplot and relief oj the play with exquisite fooling. Harley in particular presented a variety in the line of originals in which thai worthy scion of the old school had long been without s rival. His acting was, in fact, a school of itself which baffled imitation and died with its master. On Tuesday, the 18th of November, an amusing and well-constructed after-piece^ in two acts, was produced, entitled " Our Wife ; or the Rose of Amiens ;" iu this we recognized an adaptation (by Mr. J. M. Morton) from a French operatic play, acted in Paris some six- teen years ago, at the Opera Comique, called " La "Rose de Peronne," but not until now transplanted to the London stage. The experienced English dramatist condensed his materials with good taste and skill. Our volatile neighbours, in the intricacies and ingenuities or CJIARLES KEAX, F.S.A. 201 of plot, and the combination of unexpected effects, possess a certain superiority of constructive art which we readily imitate and acknowledge, but seldom equal. Yet mixed up with their best plays there is usually « j some leading objection on the score of morality, some- i I thing that offends English propriety and delicacy; a e. 1 series of calamities arising from the eccentric indul- tfc i gence of unsanctioned passion. Writers of this per- suasion appear to think that an audience cannot be ait I excited except by strong pictures of depravity and representations of " three piled " vice, which, for the honour of human nature, we hope and believe to be the exceptions rather than the rule. Hence the outcry which always accompanies the production of a drama of this class, although sometimes without diminishing its attraction. For a nation that professes decorum, and winces at immorality, we should be a little more consistent. The moral poison of the Dame aux Came- lias was refused a licence when presented in sturdy out-spoken English ; but when by alchemic process it became transmuted into Italian melody, it was per- mitted to diffuse itself without let or limit. In the " Rose of Amiens " there was no taint of this besetting sin. All was light, humorous, entertaining, exciting, and interesting, without a line in the dialogue or an inference in the plot and action, that could offend even an audience of puritans. This pleasant little comedy commanded thirty-three repetitions, and was only laid aside for the pantomime, founded this year on the old Arabian Nights' tale of " Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp." 202 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES CHAPTER X. REVIVAL OF KING RICHARD THE SECOND BY MR. C. KEAN — PREVIOUS AL- TERATIONS OF THIS PLAY, BY TATE, THEOBALD, AND WROUGHTON — INVA- RIABLE WANT OF ATTRACTION — ATTRIBUTED TO THE ESSENTIALLY UN- DRAMATIC NATURE OF THE SUBJECT — EDMUND KEAN IN RICHARD THE SECOND, AT DRURY LANE, IN 1815 — MACREADY, IN THE SAME PART, AT THE HAYMARKET, IN 1851 SUMMARY OF THE PLAY, AND NEW EFFECTS, AS PRODUCED BY MR. C. KEAN — HIS ACTING AS THE KING — MRS. C. KEAN AS THE QUEEN THE PLAY RUNS FOR EIGHTY-FIVE NIGHTS WITHOUT IN- TERMISSION — GENERAL REMARKS— REVIVAL OF THE TEMPEST— CLOSE OF THE SEASON — TWO HUNDRED AND FORTY-TWO SHAKESPEAREAN REPRESENTATIONS. John, Duke of Marlborough, a man of action rather than a reader, and of very limited education, was often heard to say that he derived his chief knowledge of his- ■ tory from witnessing the representations of Shakespeare's j i plays. Yet in his day he could only have seen the i great magician imperfectly reflected in the mutilations i of Gildon, Dennis, Nahum Tate, Colley Gibber and Co., with the " Macbeth " and " Tempest" of Dryden and Davenant ; in all of which the name of the author was , preserved, while the strength and beauty of his poetry \ were nearly suffocated. Had the great duke lived in the present age, and witnessed Mr. C. Kean^s genuine revivals at the Princess's Theatre, his notions of Shake- speare and English chronicled history would have been much nearer the truth ; and he would have hailed a revolution in literary and dramatic taste as extraordi- nary, as the political changes to which he so largely contributed. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 20;-? " Richard the Second," from the true text of Shake- speare, was produced at the Princess's on the 12tli of March, 1857. Mr. Keau, in a clear and ably written preface to the published book, while detailing his list of authorities, and thanking the zealous antiquaries who had seconded his own researches, reiterated what he had declared before ; namely, that his leading object in the Shakespearean revivals was to preserve the language of the author inviolate; to embellish his magnificent conceptions with all the accessorial aid of pictorial and mechanical appliances ; to resuscitate history whenever the opportunity presented itself, even to the most minute details, so that every scene should be a text to lecture on ; and to base all that he presented to the spectator on unimpeachable authorities. It need not be asked, how is it possible that the dramatic art, with its multiplied resources and extended influence could be more nobly employed, or how could the memory of the greatest poet that ever breathed, be more honoured and exalted ? There can be but one answer, except from the narrow nil adinirari critics, who find all barren " from Dan to Beersheba;'' who walk the world per- petually writhing and sneering, disappointed and bil- ious, vexed at the success of their neighbours, and who never knew the luxury of an honest burst of exultation, or joined in a heart-springing round of applause. And fortunate it is for the drama, that these jaundiced cavil- lers are in a powerless minority. Steevens, the celebrated Shakespearean commentator and editor, says, in a note appended to the " Yorkshire Tragedy " (one of the seven spurious plays), and in his edition of 1793, — "The critics may applaud " Richard the Second," though the successive audiences of more than a century have respectively slumbered over it as often as it has appeared on the stage. Garrick had 204 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES ouce resolved on its revival, but his good taste at last overpowered his ambition to raise it to the dignity of the acting list." If Garrick had laid his fingers on this play, we should have had as many un-Shakespearean additions and alterations in the text, as he had been guilty of in " Romeo and Juliet," " Hamlet/' the "Winter's Tale," and the "Midsummer Night's Dream." On this point he was possessed with a caco-damon, and fancied it the spirit of the Bard of Avon. Nahura Tate, in 1681, metamorphosed " Richard the Second " into a thing called the " Sicilian Usurper," changing the time, place, and incidents, as well as the language. This farago was stopped on the second night by the au- thorities, not for its demerits or desecration of Shake- speare, but because they thought it dangerous to allow the pubhc to witness successful rebellion. Theobald (the dethroned hero of Pope's "Duuciad") in 1719 produced another monstrous travesty at Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, which ran for seven nights, and obtained for the muti- lator a purse of one hundred guineas from Lord Orrery for a fulsome dedication. In 1738, a third version was tried at Covent Garden, chiefly remarkable for the per- formance of " tall Johnson," as he was called, the son- in-law of Aaron Hill, who was selected for John of Gaunt, because he was bony and burly, and his stature ap- proached seven feet. Then the play slumbered for seventy-seven years, until,in 1815, the Drury Lane Com- mittee employed their stage-manager, Wroughton, to hash it up for Edmund Kean ; the said Wroughton being a heavy actor, and a heavier scholar, with as little of the Shakespearean inspiration as could be expected from leaden mediocrity. Strangely fantastic were the tricks which this play-wright was allowed to play with his subject. The touching and naturally-flowing rhymes, so characteristic of the early compositions of the author. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 205 and so peculiar to the age in which he wrote, were laboriously and pedantically altered to halting blank verse ; scenes were interpolated bodily from the disjecta membra of several other plays; new speeches were written, in justification of which, Colley Gibber on *• Richard the Third " was pleaded as a precedent, but without his happy ingenuity ; Bol'mgbroke delivered a panegyric on thriving ambition, from Aaron the Moor, in "■ Titus Andronicus ; " and the Queen, who had been despatched by Shakespeare to France, in accordance with historical fact, was made to rush in frantically to the dungeon at Pontefract, and expire on the body of her murdered husband. All this (shall we not call it sacrilege ?) and more, was sanctioned in full council by a committee of erudite lords and members of the lower house, who then held the sceptre of Drury Lane in commendam ; all this Shakespearecide received the fiat of the public, to a certain extent, and was perpetrated, moreover, at the precise period which after-dinner orators at charitable festivals, and before the plate goes round, dehght in glorifying and bewailing as " the palmy days of the drama." Edmund Kean did wonders with the part of the deposed king. Many are still living who remember how that bright genius struggled to emancipate Shake- speare from the heavy dross with which he was clogged ; what startling effects he produced, particularly in the third act ; but how, at the same time, no permanent attraction could be elicited from such an ill-assorted mixture. In the arrangement there was little thought bestowed on the author, and none on the truthfulness of history. Not even the powers of a Kean could restore permanent life to a play in which the vital principle had been so cruelly reduced. After ten or twelve repe- titions it ceased to be inquired after. 200 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Time rolled on, and in 1851 Mr. Macready appeared twice as Richard the Second, at the Haymarket, a few weeks only before he retired from professional life. It was scarcely worth his while to venture a new part on the eve of abdication. The play was then acted from the text of Shakespeare, but not, in stage phraseology, " got up," and its immediate withdrawal indicated a very qualified approbation. The tone of criticism in some of the most favourably-disposed journals, implied directly that the want of success was owing to its being essentially undramatic, although, in some respects, a fine poem; — a singular dictum, when we call to mind that Shakespeare wrote exclusively for the stage, without thinking of the study or the lecture room. We have here enumerated all that the London public j have ever seen of " Richard the Second," on the l)oards,* I within the memory of the living generation. Thus, as ; it will appear, the subject came fresh and vigorous into the hands of Mr. Charles Kean. " Richard the Second," as represented at the Prin- cess's Theatre in 1857, opens in the Privy Council j Chamber at Westminster, with the quarrel of Boling- \ broke and Norfolk, in the royal presence, and the King's \ appointment that they shall decide the question by ' single combat. After a short dialogue between the widowed Duchess of Gloucester, who suspects Norfolk of having contrived the murder of her husband, and John ■ of Gaunt, in the Savoy Palace, close to the Strand, the scene shifts to the lists at Gosford Green, near Coven- try ; and here we are presented with a passage of arms according to the usages of ancient chivalry. The an- tagonists are mounted, their spears in rest, the trumpets sound the charge, and they are rushing to engage with * There was an alteration by a certain W. Goodall, resident in the classic regions of Manchester, printed in 1772, but never acted. OF CHARLES KEAX, F.S.A. 207 the impetuosity of mutual hatred, when the King throws down his warder, suspends the duel, and banishes the challenger and challenged. Had the fight proceeded, and jllowbray by good fortune killed his haughty ap- pellant, Richard might never have lost the crown, the tragedy at Pontefract would not have darkened our annals, and the subsequent history of England would have detailed a different series of events. The dying chamber of old " time-honoured Lan- caster," in Ely House, Holborn, commences the second act ; the bed, the paintings on the walls, the furniture, and all the appointments of the room, being scrupu- lously copied from authorities beyond dispute. We hear the indignant reproaches of Gaunt, and his un- heeded advice to the thoughtless monarch, with the angry replies of the latter, followed by the arbitrary appropriation of his uncle's vast possessions, as soon as he has ceased to breathe. The King then departs for the Irish wars. Up to this point of the play, the cha- racter of Richard is merely introductory, affording no scope to the actor and exciting no interest with the audience. He has proved himself an unjust steward, and prepares the way for his own subsequent calamities. The Queen is now introduced, at the entrance to St. Stephen's Chapel. Shakespeare, for the sake of height- ening the interest of his play, has deviated from his- torical truth, by representing Isabella of Valois as a woman; when espoused by Richard, she was a child, not nine years old. There is no evidence to show that she ever saw him after his departure for Ireland. She had scarcely reached ten when he was slain. Henry the Fourth, after some time, allowed her to return to France, when she married the Duke of Orleans, and died in her twenty-second year, September 13th, 1410. As the Qiieen leaves the stage with the Duke of York 208 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES who presents, without questioning his suspicious loyalty, a most incompetent viceroy in troublous times, we pass to a most beautifully painted landscape in Gloucester- shire, through the forest glades of which the army of BoUngbroke advances, in the full panoply of war, con- fident in their leader, and glowing with the pride of anticipated success. In the march of that formidable and unopposed host through the heart of the country, casting their ominous shadows before, we read the approaching downfal of the absent king. As the curtain rises for the third act, Richard hinds from Ireland at Milford Haven ; but has scarcely time to express his joy at once more treading the soil of his own kingdom, when he feels the sceptre gliding from his hands. At every moment he receives tidings of the rapid approach of his rival, and the desertion of his friends. Now the dramatic pith of the character begins to unfold itself. The abyss is yawning beneath his feet, and the sudden discovery prostrates his manhood. The accumulation of misery wrings his soul with agonizing grief. He has no philosophy, but he can feel and suffer acutely the impending degradation. He is a man, though a weak and erring one, and we forget his faults in his misfortunes. Shakespeare has made his poetical Richard utter precisely what we can conceive the real Richard to have given vent to, in that situation ; and most impressively were the speeches rendered, and the conflicting emotions conveyed, in tone, gesture, and expression, by his living representative. We recollect nothing finer than Mr. Kean's acting throughout this entire scene, except perhaps his cHmax in the next, when he comes forth from Flint Castle, and surren- ders to BoUngbroke. The latter kneels and tenders obeisance in mock humility. Richard struggling with his indignation^ replies, — I OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 209 ** Fair cousin, you debase yoiu- princely knee, To make the base earth proud with kissing it : Me rather liad my lieart might feel your love, Than my unpleas'd eye see your courtesy. Up, cousin, up ; yoiu- heart is up, I know, Thus high at least, {touching his own head) although your knee be low." ^'he burst of natural passion with which ]\Ir. C. Keau t /orked up this speech, and the effect he produced upon 1; he audience, almost persuaded those who remembered lis father in the same passage, that they saw him il Landing bodily before them, in the person, and reflected I the mind of his son. Bolingbroke, now virtually king, proceeds to the me- f, opolis, accompanied, or rather attended by the captive ll, ichard. All readers of Shakespeare, from their school- |, jy days, are familiar with the often-quoted description j5 ' the entry of the two cousins into London, so pa- ■fi letically described by their uncle York to his Duchess, |i J. the latter portion of the play. This was declared by p iryden, a jealous critic, to be a sublime passage of dra- ^ :iatic poetry superior to anything in Sophocles or Eu- j,, ipides, and which left the moderns, wiihout exception, ,,j; ij an immeasurable distance. Mr. C. Kean here seized ^j. ^e boldest idea, and transferred to the scene the most p ^aphic Shakespearean illustration that ever entered into , tje mind of actor or manager : an illustration that gave |., j|'eality to the play it was never supposed to possess. He (jibodied and anticipated the description of York, in an f!isode of action, introduced between the third and fourth ; ts, carrying on the story, connecting the chain of events, ,, ad preparing the spectators for the solemn abdication 6^Richard which immediately follows. The contrast o feeling and position between the falling and tno ring monarch is thus brought out in masterly reliei. lis episode was pronounced by thousands who -.Mt- VOL. LL. V 210 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES uessed it on repeated occasions, to be, beyond all coe parison, the most marvellous scenic illusion that lu; ever been attempted. If a citizen of London, at 139 could have been actually revived, and seated within tl stalls of the theatre without passing through the changi external world, he would have fancied that he saw living repetition of what he once had taken a part i There could not have been less than from five to six hu dred persons on those contracted boards, all moving trained regularity or organized disorder, according to t varying incidents. The music, the joy-bells, the dauc< the crowded balconies and windows, the throngs in t streets, the civic processions, the mailed warriors, t haughty BoUngbroke, the heart-broken Richard, i maddening shouts of gratulation which attend the oi, while the other is received with silence, gradually de( ening into murmurs, groans, and insults, the scrupuk accuracy with which every dress and movement is poi trayed ; — all this completed a picture which brought hi : the past to the eyes of the present, and bewildered 1? spectators with a mingled sensation of astonishmjit and admiration. The scene altogether surpassed 1? glories of Woheys banquet and ball in " Henry -^ Eighth,^' or the maddening reality of the Dionysii pastime in the " Winter's Tale." The spell was n,- dered still more potent oy the knowledge that we si passing before us the resuscitation of a memorals passage from our own domestic chronicles. The pomp and bustle of the episode in the street: f London, prepare the audience for the touching soh - nity of Richard's abdication in Westminster H: , which, with a short preceding scene of the Qui with the Gardener at Langley, the Duke of Yo's country residence, occupies the fourth act. Here agin the acting of Mr. C. Kean had its full play, rivett : OF CHARLES KEAN, F S.A. 211 "I the attention of the audience, and dividing tlieir cx- 'atl bressions of satisfaction between tears and applause. til (The effect produced in this part of the tragedy, which I'lBi depends entirely on the actor, proved beyond denial, b; jhovv the poetry can retain its full value distinct from e» jthe surrounding pageantry, and how its power is in- pan icreased rather than obscured or weakened by accessorial iiil; (relief. ira; The fifth act opens before the Traitor's Gate at the ?to' Tower, with a pathetic farewell betw^een Richard and (lam his Queen. This scene affords Mrs. C. Kean the only sib: opportunity a very insignificant part allows of showing ois, that such talent as hers can create material out of !/■( b,lraost nothing, and that the impression which a finislied thet artist can produce, is not dependent on the amount of Ivit Lvords she has to utter. The features, the mind, and upii [the heart, are potent movers, even when the tongue has is ft little to express. ;litli I The play now rapidly hastens to a conclusion. In eiel jthe gloomy dungeon at Pontefract the crime is perpe- lisk (fcrated ; the body of the murdered Richard is laid before d \Bolingbroke, in St. George's Hall, Windsor, while he ;ory jsits in state, as King, attended by the nobles of the land, m jsurrounded on the steps of the throne by his four sons, Oil m the plenitude of his power and triumph. In that trt proud hour, when all his worldly hopes are realized, ;iw remorse touches his soul, the moral is consummated, [the history is complete, and the curtain falls. \U All the dry reading of the closet, the old black-letter I'Sj: tomes of Holinshed and Hall, the multiplied volumes ;r I of Rapin, Tindal and Hume, would fail to impress the le I mind with such a truthful and lasting impression of )|'l' any given passage in our English annals, as that con- ein Nyed by a single play of Shakespeare, as placed upon riis the stage of the Princess's Theatre during Mr. C. Kean's f2 212 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES management. Never was a great problem more com- pletely solved by the result. Old play-goers often remark, and old actors complain, that modern audiences are less enthusiastic in the out- ward and visible tokens of their delight ; less given to applaud than were their fathers and grandfathers. The fact is apparent. Hence it is inferred (somewhat hastily] that acting has degenerated, and dramatic taste become less fervid. We suspect the converse of both conclu- sions to be nearer the truth. Education, refinement.) and general knowledge, have rendered all classes mort exacting. It is not so easy to astonish as it was formerly, Thirty or forty years ago, the great idol of the da) made insulated points, at which the pit stood up, am the house vociferously cheered. It was the actor thejj went to see, rather than the play ; and when he wa5 not on the stage they yawned, for there was little theri of collateral aid to excite sustained attention. At leas half the entertainment operated as a soporific ; then was no succession of pictures, no resuscitation of actua manners and persons as they existed in bygone times ] no accuracy of detail in unimportant as well as in thij more prominent scenes ; and no effort to present a conj sistent whole, instead of a dazzling portion. Marl what Shakespeare himself says in this identical play oi " Richard the Second " :— I I " As in a theatre, the eyes of men, ' After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious." This shows distinctly that in his early day (and th application holds good to a much more recent period), the spectators thought little of the drama itself, am, had no perception of the power with which pictorifi, and mechanical art could be called in to relieve, var. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 213 id enhance the effect of impressive acting. We know ) instance in which the fact has been so thoroughly tablished as in Mr. C. Kean's performance in the third id fourth acts of " Richard the Second/' in which ; dramatic essence of the character is concentrated. e most exceptions critics have admitted that in this duous delineation there was no mannerism, no iraita- m of any style, no exaggeration, nothing artificial or beared; the veritable Richard stood, moved, and oke before us, with all his wounded pride, his ortified sensibihty, his wrongs, his woes, and his arly expiated follies ; — as transferred from the pages of e historian, warmed and coloured by the imagination the poet, and called into re-animated existence by e kindred genius of his interpreter. Mr. and Mrs. C. Kean were ably seconded by Mr. Ryder, 10 both looked and acted well as " the mounting Boling- '■> ioke." Mr. Cooper and Mr. Walter Lacy deserve similar t (raraendation as the Dukes of York and Lancaster. On the evening of the 13th of May, 1857, during te performance of '' Richard the Second," an accident r cteurred, which threatened the destruction of the n teatre, with the loss of many lives. Providentially, the )l i;ipending calamity was averted. As the velvet curtains, h lied instead of the usual drop scene, were withdrawn k the fifth act, they suddenly caught fire from the gas- l;hts at the side. The material being of the most cmbustible nature, ignited with incredible rapidity. '^le conflagration spread over the borders above, and in finoment the whole of the proscenium was in flames, 'jie audience began to rise, and if a sudden rush to the ( ors had taken place, as has sometimes occurred upon ' admilar alarm, it is fearful to reflect on what might 1^'^ I've occurred. Mrs. C. Kean, who was discovered on the sige in her place to commence the act, came instantly 214 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES forward with the most perfect self-possession, assure the audience that there was nothing to apprehend, thi the tire was only momentaiy, and would be subdued ; once, enti-eating; them to sit still. Her presence of mir communicated itself to those she addressed, and the remained in their places. Au ample supply of wat< and other resources were in readiness, with active hanc that knew how to employ them. Some daring ca penters, at the hazard of life and limb, detached tl flaming border from the mass above, and in a fe moments the stage was in a deluge, strewed with tl wrecks of scenery that had been destroyed. Mr. C. Ke? then announced the impossibility of concluding tl play, and requested the indulgence of the audience f the inevitable omission. They dispersed quietly, an as we may suppose, deeply impressed with the geuer escape from an awful danger. But strange elemen are mixed together in the composition of human fet ings, under any circumstances. For several days afte letters were received by the management from parti requiring either a return of their money, or admissif for another night, because a small part of the perforr ance had been curtailed by the fire. These sticklers t the full value received, remind us of the respectable c lady in Colmau's comic tale ; who, when her son f from the gallery to the pit, and broke his neck on t spot, as soon as she recovered from the shock, said the money-taker, — '■ But I must have the shilling back you know, As Moses did not see the show." On the occasion of the fire, Mr. C. Kean, with 1 usual liberality, distributed nearly 70/. in gratuities the carpenters and other labouring people who had loyally distinguished themselves. Mrs. C. Kean's ca^ and courageous exertions were the theme of uuiver OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 21 pncomium. But amongst the most gratifying tokens of acknowledgment she received, was one proceeding from a humble source, but not the less acceptable on that account. Some of the working men of the theatre requested her acceptance of a handsomely-emblazoned testimonial, framed and glazed, bearing the following inscription : — "■ PKESEXTED TO MPwS. CHARLES KEA^\ BY THE opeeatites of the FBOFEBTT DEPAETMEKT, OF THE EO"JAL FEINCESS'S THEATBE, AS A MAEK OF THEIE ESTEEM AXD ADMIBATI05 FOB HEB HEEOIC COSTJrCT, 05 THE XIGHT OF THE FTBE AT THE ABOVE THEATEE, MAT 13th, 1S57." Such unpretending gifts are less costly and osten- tatious than diamond necklaces and bracelets, but they me from the heart, and are equally, if not more liuable, when transmitted as heir- looms; for, as Shakespeare truly says, — " Never anything can le amiss, "^Tien simpleness and duty tender it." The public have long been accustomed to admire in Mrs. C. Kean the accomplished artist, whose rare en- dowments shed lustre on her profession, while they supply an encouraging example to her successors. But the public cannot step behind the more interesting scenes of her private life, and obtain a full knowledge of the wonderful activity and energy of her character . Perhaps the voice of personal friendship may be permitted hereto offer its tributary homage, founded on long experi- ence and observation. While anxiously and affectionately 216 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES seconding her husband throughout his arduous caret of management, her immediate province has been tli superintendence of tlie wardrobe. An idea of the heav responsibility of this office may be formed from the fac that in many of the great Shakesperean plays, no les than five hundred dresses have had to be designed an arranged ; enough of itself to occupy the mind, an distract it from the study of such tine intellectual crej tions as Constance, Hermione^ Queen Katliarine, an Ladij Macbeth. At all times and seasons, in sicknes or in health, whether the tide of human affairs run placidly or becomes troubled, there is in Mrs. C. Kea an imperturbable self-command and equality of tem perament, a warmth of active benevolence, a generou sympathy with, and consideration for the wants an faiUngs of others, which excite the esteem and Avonde of all who are acquainted with her. ]&y what economy of time she is enabled to superintend three distinc' households, independent of her professional duties, n stranger could possibly be made to understand. I addition to her own establishment, she has her age' mother and elder sister, helpless themselves, and entire! dependent on her care; and another widowed sister witij an overwhelming family, who look to her sustainin,; counsel as their earthly guide and beacon. These ar complicated duties, and nobly they have been dis charged. Another of Mr. J. M. Morton's agreeable trifle? always of French origin, entitled, " An Englishman' House is his Castle,'' appeared on the 11th of June ; an( on Wednesday, July the 1st, ''Richard the Second," afte the eighty-fifth night, was withdrawn for a time, ti make wyy for " The Tempest.'' Shakespeare's " Tempest," as all the world knows, i a work exclusively of imagination ; beautiful in thought OF CHARLES KEAX, F.S.A. 217 and original in execution. Coupled with "A Mid- summer Night's Dream," the two form, beyond all question, the richest and most delightful creations of fancy, which human faculty has ever embodied in the poetical or dramatic form. Supernatural and imagina- tive in the highest degree, they are as varied in character, as the elements of the inexhaustible genius which never exhibited the poverty of repeating itself. The fairy wands of Oheron and Titania have nothing in common with the necromantic staff of Prospero. The familiar agents, Ariel and Fuel:, the delicate and the mischievous, are as unlike each other as the masters to whom they are subservient. In Mr. C. Kean's treatment of these exquisite subjects, we trace again the careful study and unerring judgment which have on so many previous occasions won for him the reputation of Shakespeare's truest interpreter. Ariel, in particular, he has invested with an air of originality, the more surprising as the play has been elaborately " got up " under many suc- cessive managements. There have been Ariels in pro- fusion, who could act and sing beyond the reach of critical censure, but they were full-grown voluptuous- looking females : no one could beguile himself into the delusion that they were anything less material or substantial. Mr. C. Kean has given us, and for the first time, the dainty spirit, the etherial essence that could be compressed within a rifted pine, that appears formed to revel on a bat's back, to couch in a cowslip's bell, to tread the ooze of the salt deep, and to run upon the sharp edge of the wind. Volumes have been written by heavy, matter-of-fact commentators, who delight in multiplying clouds and darkness, but seldom irradiate an obscurity, — to prove that Shakespeare founded the " Tempest" on real facts and places, that he drew from some known story or 218 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES published incident ; tliat he is, in this instance, a mere compiler of events, or an ingenious adapter and enlarger of the thoughts of others. There is some confused story that the poet Collins had read the subject in a novel ; but he failed to recollect the name, nor could any one else identify the work from his account of it. One elaborate pundit has endeavoured to show in a rambling essay, that Larapedusa was unquestionably the island of Prospero, because it is, or urns, uninhabited, and lies somewhere in the latitude and longitude within which it is possible a ship might be wrecked on a voyage from Tunis to Naples. The claim set up for Bermuda is more ridiculously out of the question, and plainly dis- proved by the text. Ariel was once called up at mid- night by Prosjjero, " to fetch dew from the still vexed BermootJies.'^ The magician would have had no occasion to send his messenger so many thousand leagues across the Mediterranean and the Atlantic for the precious exhalation, if his own island were the identical place in which he could have supplied himself by merely stepping to the entrance of his cell. Malone and Chalmers each wrote and printed, for private distribution, tracts on the incidents from which the " Tempest '' is derived. As literary rarities, their pamphlets have sold respectively for two and three guineas each ; they contain ingenious conjectures, and help to prove what Shakespeare did not intend. We confess to no feelings in common with the dull, mathe- matical precision which seeks to extinguish the brightest rays of poetical fancy, and to measure an illimitable mind by the ordinary physical standard. The play taken as a whole, is indeed, — " A most majestic vision, And harmonious charmingly." OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 219 Let due honour be rendered to Mr. C. Kean, for rescu- ing Shakespeare from all attempts to localize the scene of action. He says truly, " The enchanted island governed by the wand of P/-os/:>ero, released from its association with the Bermudas, remains an imaginary kingdom, the scene of affecting and mysterious incidents, over which Ariel presides as the image of air, in spiritual contrast to the grosser Caliban, who embodies the earthly element." Shakespeare has fixed no distinct time when the action of the "Tempest" is supposed to pass, either directly, or by inference. In the present revival, the thirteenth century was selected, as aflPording the oppor- tunity of introducing a style of costume at once elegant and picturesque. In earlier times, the " Tempest," like many of Shake- speare's acknowledged master-pieces, suffered terribly from ruthless mutilations. Sir W. Davenant, Dryden, and Shadwell, successively transformed it into a comedy and an opera; in which they were followed by Garrick, the elder Sheridan, and John Kemble, who retained the injudiciously introduced characters of Dorinda and ]rLj2)olito ; thus completely destroying the idea of the author, and the key-note of feeling to the whole play, — the utter desolation of Prospero, with Miranda as his only consolation and companion. The last manager, too, with all his admitted classical taste, transplanted the opening incident of the storm and shipwreck to the second act, where its position is inconsistent. He also removed the celebrated speech in allusion to the intro- duced masque in the fourth act, beginning with " These our actors, as I foretold you, were all spirits," to the end of the play, and in exclusion of the original epilogue. Mr. Kean, following out the system he has invariably acted on in these glorious revivals, presents the text of Shakespeare inviolate, omitting merely an occasional 220 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES passage, or compressing a subordinate scene, with mani- fest advantage to the action of the piece. That the last opinion is correct, is evidenced by the approbation and attendance of eighty-seven successive audiences. One of the most strikingly original conceptions in the new version of the " Tempest," was the entire execution of the music (with the exception of the duet in the masque) by an invisible choir, led by Miss Poole, whose mellow voice sounded with the rich, full clearness of a bell in the midst of, and above, the accompanying melody. Much of this music has hitherto been executed by Ariel, in presence of the audience, rendering too material and terrestrial that airy essence, through whose unseen agency, and by the delegated authority of Pros^yero, the train of magical wonders is produced throughout the play. Artel formerly walked on and off the stage after the conventional mode of entrance and exit, moving with the substantial attributes of mor- tality ; and when dismissed on an important errand, instead of " drinking the air" in rapid obedience, came deliberately forward, while the orchestra struck up a symphony, and sang to the musicians instead of to Prospero, an interpolated aria, beginning with, " Oh bid your faithful Ariel fly," with one eye fixed on the pit, and the other carefully watching the flourish of the conductor's baton. Now, we were really presented with a " delicate spirit," at one moment descending in a ball of fire ; at another, rising gently from a tuft of flowers ; again, sailing on the smooth waters on the back of a dolphin ; then, gliding noiselessly over the sands, as a water-nymph ; and ever and anon, perched on the summit of a rock, riding on a bat, or cleaving mid-air with the velocity of lightning. The powers of modern stage mechanism are almost as marvellous as the gift ascribed to the magic wand and bonk of Prospero. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 221 The play opens, as Shakespeare lias described, with a ship in a tempest, struggling against the com- bined fury of winds and waves, and ultimately seeming to founder with all on board. How such an effect could be produced, within such a confined space, appeared to bafile the compreiiensiou of the audience. As the mist of the storm disperses, the sun rises slowly on the magic island, the sea subsides, the waters recede from i the " yellow sands," and Pros^jero is discovered with Miranda, standing on the point of a rock, superintending the eflPect of his art. He descends, and relates the events of his early life, his deposition and banishment through the treachery of his brother. Ariel and Caliban are summoned in succession. Ferdinand enters, and at the first sight, he and Miranda " change eyes." In the second act, we have a romantic view of the in- terior of the island, where the King of Naples, with his attendant lords, has lauded, and is hopelessly seeking for his lost son. A great triumph of scenic exhibition is reserved for the third act. A long perspective of desolation gradually changes from barrenness to tropical luxuriance; trees rise from the earth, fountains and waterfalls gush from the rocks ; while naiads, wood-nymphs, and satyrs enter, bearing fruit and flowers, with wliich they form a table, and having invited the King and his company to partake, suddenly disappear. These classic denizens of the woods are substituted for the " strange shapes " with- out any specified identity, hitherto represented by ludi- crous and unmeaning monsters, with devils' heads and pitchforks, as being not only more poetical in them- selves, but also more in accordance with the figure of the Earpy which rises in the midst of them. The novelty and elegance of the concluding dance excited universal admiration. 222 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES The fourth act is chiefly occupied with the gorgeous masque of JunOf Ceres, Iris, and their attendant deities ; and richly here does Prosj^ero exhibit the "■ vanity of his art," always assisted by his obedient familiar, Ariel. At the conclusion, Caliban and his sottish associates, in the plot to murder Prospero, are hunted and tortured by a legion of goblins, copied from furies depicted on Etruscan vases. In the fifth act, all the characters are brought together bv the controlling power o^ Prospero, in front of his cell. Mutual recognition takes place. The stately magician forgives the wrongs he has suffered from his false bro- ther, bestows his daughter in marriage on Ferdinarul, and prepares to re-ascend his ducal throne ; having re- nounced for ever the supernatural power he had acquired, breaking his staff and drowning his book. Night en- shrouds the scene. The released spirits take their flight from the island, through the air ; morning breaks, and shows the royal vessel floating gently, and in perfect trim, on the unruffled waters. Prospero, standing on the deck, delivers the epilogue. The ship gradually sails off, the island recedes from sight, Ariel alone occu- pies the scene, suspended in the air, anxiously watching the departure of his late master, while a distant chorus of spirits dies softly away as the curtain falls. Beauti- fully contrasted is this last scene with the terror and despair of the opening shipwreck. The action and situation, the glass-like, motionless tranquillity of the unruffled waters, the glow of atmosphere, and the ac- companying sentiment, more easily felt than described, reminded us of Moore's gently flowing lines, written when sailing within the tropics : — " The sea is like a silvery lake, And o'er its calm the vessel glides, Gently, as if it fear'd to wake The slumber of the silent tides." OF CHAKLES KEAN, F.S.A. 223 Mr. C. Kean was dignified and impressive as Prospero. The character has always been undertaken by the lead- ing tragedian of the day, although it affords no scope for the powers of a first-rate actor. There is neither pas- sion nor variety. All that is required for an adequate representation is sustained solemnity of deportment, with graceful elocution, and here and there an impulse of natural feeling. But the potent necromancer so completely rules the action of the play, and every agent employed is so thoroughly subservient to his will, that the audience never lose sight of his paramount import- ance. Like Mephistopheles, he is felt even when he is not present, and is always expected to appear when wanted, as the deus ex macldna, to solve every difficulty, and to settle every doubt. The true spirit of Ariel, as now so artistically re- modelled, was caught up by Miss Kate Terry with intui- tive quickness. Miss Leclercq and Miss Bufton were delightfully coupled as Miranda and Ferdinand. Mr. Kyder had evidently studied Caliban with a perfect understanding of the author's intention. His execu- tion of this difficult part (difficult, because so easily overdone), was one of the best of his many judicious assumptions. Harley, as Trinculo, and F. Matthews, as Stephana, brought out the comic relief of the play in excellent bearing. The scenery, dances, costumes, music, and mechanical effects, in every department, excited universal admiration. •Cfhe public, in general, are scarcely reflective enough to estimate at their full value the amount of labour, time, and intellectual exertion, to say nothing of the ex- penditure of capital, by which such a revival as the " Tempest '' is carried out to the perfection that appears so easy and natural when offered to public consideration. Mr. C. Kean, bv a lone: series of these costlv and elevated 224 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES experiments, has shown of what the stage is capable, when viewed in the light of a national instructor. He has added another, and a most influential medium to the many sources of educational improvement which at present engross the consideration of the best, the wisest, and the most exalted in the land. It has often been said by enthusiasts who mourned over the degraded position of the stage, real or exag- gerated, and who felt, or affected to feel, the misapplica- tion of its noblest attributes, that the theatre nu'glit he rendered a valuable school, as well as a fascinating temple of recreation. The question has now ceased to be one of retarded or doubtful solution. It has been met by Mr. C. Kean with an unequivocal result. What has been suggested as possible, he has triumphantly accomplished. He has reformed, nay, he has even re- generated, the national drama of the country. He has revived a pure taste, which seemed to be verging towards extinction ; and in an age when orators and philanthropists of every class are clamouring for intellectual progress, he has brought in, to further this great object, the most powerful and attractive auxiliary that refined intellect can supply. Museums are but dumb instructors. Galleries of sculpture and painting, with their cata- logued treasures, are cold and formal. Lectures on philosophy, metaphysics, and mechanical science, are, of necessity, tinged with technical pedantries. Logic never charms, while it often wearies more than it con- vinces. The principle of mingling the utile cum dulci, of amusing while you teach, is as applicable to human nature now, as it was in the days of Horace. The child is a type of the man, and a sick child refuses the medicine which brings health when presented in its natural bitterness, but swallows it voraciously when sweetened with honey. The mass of mankind is more OF CHAiiLES KEAN, F.S.A. 225 likely to profit by instruction agreeably insinuated than ' harshly commanded. The theatre is a gentle monitor, and as such, acceptable to the tastes of a great majority; jappealing to the reason, it is true, through the pleasant, jthough perhaps hazardous medium of the senses, and 'therefore open to objection, as easily pervertible to jabuse. Put the lesson is not the less efficacious, if ijudiciously administered, as tlie senses constitute the most powerful alembic through which knowledge can 36 instilled into the mind. The multitudes who have 10 time or taste for reading, whose faculties are not noulded for profound study, are readily impressed hrough the eyes and ears with those important truths. rhich, while they expand the understanding, soften and mprove the heart. The harmonious poetry of Shake- peare presents nothing incompatible with the higher ources whence our soundest moral doctrines arc lerived. Persuasion often wins more than authority, nd in this sense (we speak it reverently), the stage aay avail when graver teaching fails. The quaint old K ioet, Herbert, took a correct view of man as he is, l« Fhen he wrote :— .If! 1 " A verse may find him whu a sermon flies, And turn delight into a sacrifice." tif Mr. C. Kean closed his seventh season on the 21st of ,««! jiugust, 1857. During the twelve months (wanting » jut ten days) of its duration, not more than twelve ieces were performed, of which three only, including ic Pantomime, were new. Out of the two hundred id ninety acting nights, no less than two hundred and rty-two were devoted to Shakespeare. This fact )eaks more conclusively in favour of Mr. Kean's stem, and furnishes a more unanswerable reply to its )ponents, than a folio of laboured panegyric. VOL. II. Q 226 THE LIP^E AND THEATRICAL TIMES CHAPTER XL I VACATION OF SEVEN WEEKS — MR. AND MRS. KEAN VISIT VENICE 'S THEATRE OPENS ON THE 12TH OF OCTOBER, NEWLY DECORATED — '5 TEMPEST RESUMED — RUNS ALTOGETHER FOR EIGHTY-SEVEN NIGHT - REPRODUCTION OF RICHARD THE SECOND — PANTOMIME OP THE WH 3 CAT — DEATH OF LADY BOOTHBY, FORMERLY MRS. NISBKTT — MR. KH ELECTED A FELLOW OP THE SOCIETY OF ANTIQUARIES — FESTIVAL I - FORMANCES AT THE OPERA HOUSE ON OCCASION OF THE PRINC 3 royal's MARRIAGE — ABSENCE OF MR. AND MRS. C. KEAN— OPINI S EXPRESSED IN THE PAPERS— MACBETH AT THE OPERA HOUSE— HAM r AT THE PRINCESS S ON THE SAJIE EVENING — DEMONSTRATION IN 'E princess's THEATRE ON THE 19X'H OF JANUARY — STATEMENT OP FA'l. The Princesses Tlieatre remained closed for se\i weeks, during which time it was entirely re-painted ?1 decorated in a light and tasteful style. During the recess, Mr. and Mrs. C. Kean made a sh't trip to the continent, passing by Pari« and Laasani, and across the Alps to Milan, Verona, and Yeni . Mr. C. Kean had long desired to see the " Queen of 3 Adriatic," and as the "Merchant of Venice" u intended for a leading feature in the forthcoming seas , he determined to verify the authorities by perso 1 examination. On the 12th of October, 1857, the theatre re-open , and the " Tempest " was resumed. The dtam; c horizon looked cloudy at this juncture. The Amerid defalcations had produced a commercial panic, 3 extent and influence of which was undefined. Mif failures were gazetted, and more anticipated. From (f to day there were announcements of actual, and repc s OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 227 I of expected bankruptcy, which checked the ordinary j current of society, and drew away attention from public I amusements. Under similar contingencies theati'cs are I always amongst the greatest sufferers. We speak of I England exclusively, for in France the general feeling takes an opposite turn. During the horrors of the Revolution, under the reign of terror, when the guil- :E-|lotine knocked at every door, and no one could tell how '^fsoon his own turn would succeed that of his neighbour, Ij^jthe theatres were crowded nightly. In 181-4, and again in 1815, after Waterloo, when the cannon of the allies, frowning from the heights of Belleville and iNIont- martre threatened Paris with destruction, the loungers li! jof the Boulevards sat on their accustomed seats in constitutional carelessness, and repaired to the Odeon, the Gaiete, or the Varietes at the usual hour, as if things were progressing in their customary routine. After a run of eighty-seven nights, the " Tempest " was finally withdrawn, and " Richard the Second " again assumed its place in the bills. Amongst the characters which have won for Mr. C. Kean his acknow- ledged position as the first tragedian of the age, many sound critics were disposed to assign the foremost place to his Richard the Second. They looked upon it as an original eft'ort to be paralleled with Louis the Eleventh. None of his most eminent predecessors, as in many other instances, had associated their names [with the part. It suggested no comparisons. Bet- ^f terton and Booth, Quin, Garrick, and John Kemble, ^1'^ pad passed it by. Edmund Kean, it is true, elicited Anis from it some brilliant points, but although the per- * lormance greatly enhanced his individual reputation i ^ lov the moment, it retained no permanent place on his Fbs acting Ust. It remained for his son to identify himself Mi with the deposed Plantagenet. A play, never before i '"q2 228 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES attractive, which on its first production commaui eighty-five repetitions, and within a few months is agai resumed for twenty-seven more, must be assisted wit some controlling element of success, which no beau of language, no perfection of decorative accompanimeri no amount of archaeological accuracy could of then selves supply. This great element must be sought f in the power of acting ; that rarely bestowed eudo\ ment by which alone the pur[)Ose of the poet can I adequately reflected, and through which channel onl the by-gone ages of the world are called into ne existence, placed before the sight, and presented to tl mind of the spectator and auditor, as in a living paui rama. The scenes of lyiemorable deeds, the actioi and attributes of remarkable men, are thus stamped c our memories and rendered familiar to our perceptioi with an enduring strength, which no other medium information, no silent study in the closet, no consuuv tion of the midnight lamp, no recorded descriptic could possibly impart. At the last session of the Society of Antiquarie during the summer of 1857, on the memorable 18th June, Mr. Kean was elected a fellow of that erudi body, and on the 19th of November following, took h seat in regular form as an admitted member. Tl compliment was as flattering, as it was well earned ar judiciously bestowed. On the 16th of November, a new farce was broug] forward at the Princess's, cleverly adapted from tl French, by Mr. John Oxenford, entitled "A Case of Coi science." It ran for many nights up to the productic of the pantomime, and may be ranked amongst tl most agreeable of the light pieces usually selected ; the Princess's Theatre to play in the Shakespearea revivals. The pantomime, founded on a well-kno^A OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 229 story, was entitled " Harlequin and the White Cat ; or, the Princess Blancheflo^A'er and her Three Godmothers/'' This branch of the dramatic art appears destined never iiiiiiiito lose its Christmas attraction, although it has been often said that the true genius of pantomime has been for some time ejfete, and died with Grimaldi. But ihtlthere is as much immortality in the Clown as in Punch. It is quite certain that Grimaldi is no longer here to enliven us with his fathomless inexpressibles that held every thing in the world, his inimitable thieveries, his jokes, his songs, and his dialogue; but another style of humour has succeeded with another generation. The pM laugh is as unremitting as ever, although the prompting actio: pxcitement is not exactly the same. There is some- ped [:hing in the natural constitution of man in the abstract, ;pti(i. phat attaches him to pantomime. It argues ill for the iiiiii uoral temperament of any one who cannot enjoy this m glorious mummery. We should hesitate to select such ripti jin unhappy exception for a travelling companion or a pext door neighbour. If Heraclitus were to return to nan earth and secure a stall on any given night during the % lolidays, we doubt if he would ever again lapse into his emi jjonstitutional melancholy. If Cato, the censor, could )„t ^talk in after him, with scorn and anger at his heart, ; lind a decree for the abolition of theatres in his pocket, fi][ bye are prepared to offer the long odds that he would be beaten by the epidemic mirth with which his eyes f^j Imd ears would be assailed. At the first peal he would ij, luspend his purpose, at the second, his grim philosophy jj'f Fould relax into a smile, and at the third, he would jjf. rample his decree under foot. If any of our readers ,,, abour under low spirits without knowing why, — that , ilepressing malady of the mind which the learned lenominate hypochondria, — we earnestly recommend u ^hem to try a course of pantomime, which will prove a 230 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES more certaiu, as well as a much Biore palatable mode of cure than the whole series of scientific remedies, with hard appellations, which supplant each other as quickly as the fashions alter, and not unfrequently before we are able to spell their names. On the 18th of January, 1858, died Lady Boothby, better known as ]\Irs. Nisbett, one of the most fasci- nating actresses of modern times. Her joyous, resonant laugh, will never be forgotten by those who remember her as Ladtj Gay Spanker, (" London Assurance,") or as Constance, in the " Love Chase." She was the eldest daughter of the late Lieutenant Frederick Hayes Mac- namara, 52nd Foot, and of his wife, Jane Elizabeth WiUiams. At the time of her death she was in her forty- sixth year, having been born on the 1st of April, 1812. She evinced theatrical talent as a child, and in consequence of family misfortunes adopted the stage as a profession before she had completed fourteen. She appeared at Drury Lane wlien about seventeen years of age, and soon took rank in the first class of comedy, a position she maintained through her life. In January, 1831, when still under twenty, she married Captain John Alexander Nisbett, of the Life Guards; who, within a few months, was killed from the effects of an accident received while trying a vicious and untrained horse. On the death of her husband, Mrs. Nisbett felt herself under the necessity of returning to the stage ; and, having for several seasons delighted the London public by her brilliant acting, she was again led to the altar by Sir William Boothby, Bart, of Ash- bourne Hall. In about three years Sir William died, and she found herself a second time a widow without adequate provision, and once more compelled to resume her theatrical profession. But failing health soon demanded her final retirement from public life. Her OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 231 last days were spent in domestic retirement with lier mother and eldest brother, whose almost sudden deaths within a short period of each other, added to the loss of a dearly beloved sister, so wrought upon her ex- I hausted frame that she was attacked with the illness f which, in two days, terminated her e\istence. On the 25th of January, 1858. the Princess Royal of j England was united to Prince Frederick William of Prussia, heir presumptive to the throne of Frederick the Great; representative also of a staunch Protestant family, the ancient allies of England, and previously connected with the royal line of Hanover by the marriage of the late Duke of York with the eldest daughter of King- Frederick William the Second. Great care had been taken to bring the young couple into previous acquain- tanceship, and to give them opportunities of becoming mutually attached ; a guarantee for future happiness too slightly estimated in royal alliances. In these points the marriage was highly acceptable to the feel- I ings of the English people. Prussia, it is true, was j looked upon suspiciously in a political sense. She had I played a doubtful part during the Russian war ; had I carried the produce of our enemies to and fro in the i ports of the Baltic to the detriment of British trade, I and in evasion of existing treaties ; but this was looked f upon as arising more from the personal bias of the 1 King than from the wishes of his nation, who were I supposed to side warmly with us in their hearts. I Prussia was awkwardly placed, with an open frontier, I almost in the jaws of her gigantic neighbour, and in ) danger of being swallowed up, in case of a rupture, < before distant allies could arrive in time for rescue. 1 Kingdoms of more internal strength, and less accessible 1 to foreign attack, had set the example of a temporising J( policy with infinitely less excuse. England has so com- 232 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES })romised herself more than once when misgoverned bj men who, with little reputation of their own to lose, be- stowed even less thought on the honour of their country, On the occasion of this auspicious marriage, mau'v royal foreigners were invited as the guests of out; gracious Queen. Amongst other festivities, a series oi four dramatic performances under the immediate pa- tronage of her Majesty, and directed by Mr. Mitchell, of Bond Street, was announced to take place at the Opera House, in the Haymarket, selected for the pur- pose from its size and superior accommodation. These performances were to consist of a tragedy, a comedy, and farce, an English and an Italian opera; the two leading objects being to gratify the public with an unusual display of royalty congregated in honour of a national event, and to exhibit before that august assem- blage the most perfect specimens of English dramatic; art that living talent conld supply. Nothing could he'; better in idea than this plan, which nevertheless, like many others equally well laid, was marred in execution by clumsy diplomacy that might have been easily recti- fied. Both objects failed. The absence of several first- rate names, particularly those of Mr. and Mrs. C. Kean, with a total want of skilful organization in the dispos- able strength, reduced a portion of the performances to a scale of painful mediocrity, that must have sadly dis- appointed the strangers who were expected to wonder and admire ; while the general public were ostracised by the fabulous prices of admission, which the specu- lators deemed it convenient and were permitted to exact. They were, in fact, the only parties who had reason to be satisfied with the result.* The actors * As much as eight, ten, and even twelve thousand pounds has been named as their net profit ; but this must be taken as mere report, resting upon no evidence beyond probable conjecture. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A, 233 wasted their efforts on an audience drawn together by the show in front, and not by the professional talent, which they could see at any time, to more advantage and with undivided attention, in the theatres from whence they were drafted. As soon as it became known that " Macbeth" was to take the lead in these festival performances, and that the principal characters would not be sustained by Mr. and iNIrs. C. Kean, people began naturally to in- quire the cause of this omission. It seemed unaccount- able that the first actor and actress of the day, and the selected director of her Majesty's private theatricals at Windsor, should have no part in an arrangement apparently emanating from royal desire. Much dis- quisition took place on the subject, and many para- graphs appeared in the journals, conveying something like a general impression, coupled with surprise, that Mr. C. Kean, under the avowed circumstances, must either have given cause of offence in some quarter, or had not been treated, for some reason or other, with the courtesy to which he was entitled. A few extracts, taken promiscuously from the papers, will show that opinion, however differently expressed, and based on such imperfect facts as had transpired, verged always towards the same point. The Morning Herald wrote thus (18th of January) : — " Much conversation has arisen, and many conflicting statements have gone abroad, on the subject of this forthcoming dramatic festival, as it has been designated. Amongst the points which have been most discussed in connexion with the matter, is the absence from the announced programme of Mr. C. Kean and his com- pany. Tliis omission must appear the more surprising to the public from the fact, that Mr. C. Kean has for 284 THE LIFE AND THEATHia\L TIMES many years conducted, with marked approbation, her Majesty's private plays at Windsor. We cannot pre- tend to penetrate completely tlie mystery in which the transaction is involved ; but we have been informed that Mr. Kean, in the course of the brief negotiations which took place upon the point, held the opinion that all the leading theatres might be thrown open in cele- bration of an event which may be regarded as a subject of national congratulation ; and that he expressed his readiness to carry out such an arrangement in his own establishment. Whatever may be the view we enter- tain of the misunderstanding which has thus arisen, we cannot help regretting that from this theatrical com- memoration of a most interesting ceremony, the greatest of our tragedians should be excluded." The following article appeared in the Mornmg Chro- nicle (January 15) : — " Many rumours are current with reference to the dramatic representations which are to take place at her Majesty's Theatre, in honour of the Princess Royal's marriage ; and the plan, as at present announced, has not been met by any very warm sympathy on the part of the pubHc. "Why could not the projected entertainments have taken place alternately at the regular theatres ? The diflFerent plays would have been better acted on their own ground ; the public expectation would have been more amply gratified; and the remuneration would have flowed into more legitimate channels. 'Macbeth' is to commence the series ; but, in the absence of our leading performers, Mr. and Mrs. C. Kean, it can scarcely convey to her Majesty's foreign guests a cor- rect impression of our national stage. Mr. Kean, as we understand, has declined to assist in a private com- OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 235 mercial speculation. In the same manner, an English opera is to constitute another night's performance, without the presence of our first tenor, Mr. Sims Reeves." In the Examiner (16th January, 1858) we find this notice : — "The arrangements, as they have been announced, with reference to the four performances at the Opera House, under her Majesty^s patronage, on the occasion of the Princess Royal's marriage, have given rise to much conversation, and, we are sorry to add, not a little discontent. The professed object is the gratifica- tion of the public, who will virtually, however, be shut out, owing to the enormous scale of the prices of ad- mission, and the exclusive construction of the theatre selected. The affair is avowedly a commercial specula- tion on the part of the undertaker, entered into at his own risk ; and a great portion of the boxes and stalls being farmed out to the acknowledged theatrical agents, they will, naturally enough, exact prices rising in pro- portion to the extent and eagerness of the demand ; while the name and presence of the Queen, with those of her royal and illustrious guests, will, of course, be sedulously paraded and turned to the best pecuniary account, like any other novelties or attractions of the hour. All this, indeed, is taking place already. " A correspondent of the Globe of Thursday evening complains loudly of the extortions practised under the sanction of her Majesty's name, with reference to the entertainments in question. The Daily News of Friday publishes another letter, protesting against the same proceedings in still stronger terms, and detailing facts within the writer's personal knowledge. " Surely there is something improper and undignified 236 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES in all this, which it would have been both good taste and good sense to avoid. It is, also, naturally asked why a gentleman, in no way connected with the English stage, should have been selected to direct these per- formances in preference to Mr. Charles Kean, so long the conductor of her Majesty's private plays at Wind- sor, not to speak of his professional eminence and merited popularity. The name of an actor so distin- guished and accomplished as Mr. Kean does not even appear in the programme. If, as we have heard it stated, Mr. Kean objected to co-operate with Mr. Mitchell, on the ground that the plan was, in fact, a private undertaking, injurious and opposed to the inte- rests of his own and the other regular theatres, and ill calculated to afford any substantial satisfaction to the public, we must say the objection appears to us to have been perfectly just. A little more tact in the manage- ment of these festivities, might certainly have been displayed with advantage. The plan of alternate visits to the principal theatres would have produced more general satisfaction ; or each manager might have been allowed to superintend his own play, with a fair share in the profit, if any, of the night's performance.^' The following appeared in the Court Circular of the 16th of January : — "The forthcoming 'Dramatic Festival,' in celebra- tion of the Princess Royal's marriage, does not appear to increase in popular favour; and it is generally felt that no opportunity \Till be aflForded to the people of participating in what, on the surface, appears intended for their gratification. Although the royal party will be present at four public theatrical performances, these are rendered so exclusive, by an enormous scale of OF CHAKLES KEAN, F.S.A. 237 prices, that only the most opulent of her Majesty^s subjects will be able to behold the august assemblage. "Neither can any benefit accrue to the legitimate London managers from this mode of appropriating the royal patronage. An opposing attraction, and a very powerful one, is raised up against their own theatres, in the heart of the Christmas season, and nothing what- ever is vouchsafed to them to compensate for the unex- pected injury. " To this view of the affair we are, doubtless, to attribute the fact that Mr. Charles Kean is not in- cluded in the list of those who contribute to the •festival entertainment.' Nothing beyond surmise has yet transpired with regard to the omission of a name that, alone, would have made the performances repre- sentative, inter alia, of English tragedy as it now exists in the metropolis. The cause of Mr. C. Kean's absence will certaiuly be demanded by the public. A Shake- spearean drama played before an assembly of crowned heads, without the assistance of the great Shakespearean actor of the age, is too strange a fact not to elicit anxious inquiry amongst all classes of tliis independent and intellectual capital." The "festival performance'^ of "Macbeth" came off on Tuesday, the 19th of January. The day after, the following notice appeared in the Times :■ — " It is not usual, in recording public festivals, or other exhibitions, to note down what does not take place ; but, nevertheless, an omission may be so ex- ceedingly important as to render the blank it leaves quite as conspicuous as any object presented to the eye. The Roman procession immortalized by Tacitus, in which the busts that were not carried outshone a host 238 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES of sculptured Manlii and Quiuctii, is familiar to the merest dabbler in classical literature ; and those who have not smattered so far, may, if they please, illustrate the omission to which we here immediately allude, by imagining a Lord Mayor's show, with the Lord Mayor's carriage empty. Of course, we refer to the absence of Mr. Charles Kean's name from the list of the artists engaged last night as representatives of English tra- gedy. By histrionic genius, matured of late years to its highest degree of perfection, and by a splendid style of stage management that has made the produc- tion of each succeeding season eclipse its predecessor, Mr. Charles Kean has made the Princess's Theatre the acknowledged home of the Shakespearean drama. The days of the patents have passed away, but the privilege of holding an exclusive rank for the performance of the tragic drama has now belonged for several years to the Princess's Theatre; and to the exertions of Mr. Charles Kean, in his twofold capacity, is this high position to be solely attributed. No one could, indeed, ignore the unquestionable merits of Mr. Phelps in raising the character of Sadler's Wells, and implanting a venera- tion for Shakespeare in a public previously accustomed to lower forms of the drama. But, setting all other consideration aside, it is still impossible to regard the Pentonville district as the focus of the metropolitan drama, or to accept the presence of Mr. Phelps as a reason for the absence of Mr. Charles Kean. ' Why is the manager of the Princess's Theatre and of the W^indsor theatricals not here?' is a question that must have forced itself last night upon ever}'- person who had not mixed in circles where theatrical politics form a staple of conversation. Italian opera will be represented by Mr. Lumley's company, with Signor Giuglini and Mademoiselle Piccolomini, both (for the first time) in OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 239 " La Somnambula :" English opera will be represented by the Pyue-Harrisou company, engaged on the last new work by Mr. Balfe ; the comic drama will be re- presented by contingents from various theatres ; but tragedy is performed without the artist who, above all, is considered its representative. Here is, indeed, a case of the omitted Brutus — of the black cloth of Faliero. " A case so remftrkable needs some explanation, and we believe the facts are something like these, though we by no means warrant thein i)roof against correction. Mr. Charles Kean was not passed over in the selection of actors to play at the ' festival performances,' but, on the contrary, was, in the first instance, requested by Mr. Mitchell, who has the management of the solemni- ties, to undertake the character of Macbeth. The re- quest, it should be distiiictly understood, was made by Mr. Mitchell in his own capacity, as a speculator in the advantages to be derived from a theatre on the occasion of a royal visit; and, therefore, Mr. Charles Kean was not bound to regard it as a demand or invita- tion from the Court. Exercising the right of choice which, under these circumstances, belonged to him, he refused to take any part in the ' festival performances.' Probably he considered that, after many years' good service as superintendent of the Windsor theatricals, the managem.ent of a theatrical entertainment asso- ciated with a royal marriage might have been confided to his well-tried energies ; probal)ly, too, he thought that ' Macbeth' produced under other direction than his own might not impress the foreign visitors of this country with a correct notion as to the manner in which Shakespeare's plays are put upon the stage for the first-class audiences of this country. At all events, this much is certain, that he acted on the broad prin- 240 THE LIFE AND THEATUICAT. TIMES ciple, that one manager is not bound, by right or by courtesy, to act for the benefit of another manager ; ' and this much, also, is certain, that his refusal to play | is highly commended by many adepts in theatrical politics. In an article merely intended to record the events of an evening, it is not our intention to plunge into the depths of a controversy. We merely wisli to explain, in as few terms as possible, the alleged reason of Mr. Kean's non-participation in the ' festival performances.' " However, the attractions of the stage were but of secondary importance last night. The royal party did not arrive till deep in the second act of ' Macbeth,' just when Mr. Phelps had begun the famous dagger soliloquy. Now, the royal party was what the audience expressly came to see, and the eyes constantly directed towards the large empty box denoted an anxiety that did not in the least refer to the fate of Duncan. On the entrance of Her Majesty everybody, of course, arose, and then the scrutiny of the brilliant assemblage occu- pied all who could get a sight of it. So, somehow or other, the tragedy reached its conclusion, not closely watched in its tardy course, and leaving a strong impression that spoken dramas do not greatly move Operatic audiences. Music is evidently required to arouse the sympathies in Her Majesty's Theatre, for even the compositions ascribed to Lock, and so often scorned, proved welcome last night. How, in the pre- sence of that frigid public, must Mr. Phelps have longed for the hearty Shakespeareans of his own district ! How, if the report of the frigidity reached the ears of Mr. Charles Kean, must he have rejoiced to think how well he was out of the affair ! It is no joke to play tragedy before a blase public, whose whole mind is ab- sorbed by a royal box, and who dislike to find their OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 241 meditations interrupted by a ruffle of applause. Mr. Phelps maufully sustained his energies to the end, and weil earned the plaudits that, on the fall of the curtain, 'fal ! proceeded from the dramatically-disposed portion of the audience. Miss Helen Faucit, also, was called for at the close, and though she did not immediately make her appearance, she stood prominently amongst the singers 'A j during the performance of ' God save the Queen.' ffJ I " The singing of this anthem was the real feature of I the evening, and the spectacle presented when the iifj whole audience rose, including the occupants of the (lid royal box, was such as could not easily be found beyond li, 1 the precincts of our magnificent Opera House. For get I presenting a royal party to the public, and for demon- strating the feeling of that public to Royalty, there is no place like her Majesty's Theatre. At the first note of the national anthem all frigidity had vanished, and the acclamations of an audience that completely filled the house were heard on every side." On tlie evening of the performance of " Macbeth " at the Opera House, Mr. Kean appeared as Hamlet at his own theatre. The feeling prevalent in the public mind that he ought at that moment to be engaged elsewhere, , j and that he had received a slight in the omission, led to a special demonstration of respect on this particular occasion. The house was crammed to suffocation in every part soon after the opening of the doors, and hundreds were turned away, unable to obtain entrance. The stalls and boxes were filled by a company more than usually brilliant ; the pit and gallery contained hosts of enthusiastic Shakespeareans, assembled to mark their high estimate of his living representative's claims and position, as actor and manager. On his entry, Mr. Kean was received with a perfect VOL. IL R 242 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Storm of approbation. The stalls rose iu a body ; their example was followed by boxes, pit, and gallery. Cheers upon cheers resounded through the house, and some minutes elapsed before the business of the scene was thought of, or the play could resume its course. Doubt- less many of his own personal friends were present ; but they alone could not have produced the furore which manifested itself. It was a genuine and hearty expression of public feeling, on account of what was evidently considered a public wrong. Mr. Kean appeared for the moment to be over- powered by this spontaneous burst, but he manned himself speedily, and went through his arduous part with redoubled energy, taxed to its highest exertion. Every point was eagerly seized by the audience. The applause was almost unremitting. At the close of the great scene with his mother, which terminates the third act, Hamlet was loudly called for, and was obliged to appear before the curtain. The call was unanimously renewed at the termination of the tra- gedy, when Mr. Kean, having bowed his acknowledg- ments, retired. The audience were not satisfied with this. A continued and more enthusiastic demand for his return made it evident that he was expected to say something. He now felt it his duty to obey. Accord- ingly he addressed the house briefly, but pithily, as follows :— " Ladies and gentlemen, — It is not my custom ever to address an audience, except on the concluding night of a season ; but I fear that were I not on the present occasion to respond to so unanimous an ebullition of public feeling as you have honoured me with this even- ing, my silence might be wrongly interpreted. I am deeply sensible of your kindness, and beg you to accept OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 243 my heartfelt thanks. It would be affectation in me to pretend not to understand the motives which have in- fluenced this particular excitement, and it is another convincing instance, in addition to the many I have already received, that when a public man acts in a con- scientious and upright manner, the public will always i! afford him their sympathy and support. Throughout "!( my life I have coveted the verdict of public opinion, professionally and socially, and this evening impresses ou me a most grateful conviction that my wishes are realized." These few appropriate words, containing a world of condensed meaning, appeared to create a deep sensa- tion, and produced a general repetition of the pre- ceding applause. Several papers in articles on the events of this evening, and with reference to the affair generally, suggested that some further elucidation would be desirable, and that Mr. Kean was, in fact, called upon to supply the deficiency. He thought dif- ferently, felt satisfied with the result, had no inclination to stir up a controversy that might lead to disrespectful conclusions, and remained silent. In a biographical work such as the present, and in treating of a remark- able incident in the life of an eminent professional man, the same reserve might seem to be affected and unneces- sary, while it would inevitably lead to misconstruction. We therefore now state the facts as they occurred, with- out presuming to venture either comment or inference. Soon after the plan was resolved on, Mr. Mitchell called upon Mr. Kean and proposed to him, as a matter of business, to perform " Macbeth " with his company, at the Italian Opera House. He stated that he had taken that theatre for the purpose of giving three or four dramatic and operatic representations during tlie R 2 244 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES festivities consequent on the Princess Royal's marriage ; that the scheme emanated from the Court, who had entrusted him with the details of carrying it out, and that it would receive the patronage of Her Majesty. He distinctly explained that this was a speculation, the loss or profit of which rested with himself, and that he might either win or lose a large sum of money. Mr, Keau asked whether Mr. Mitchell was instructed to make any overture for his co-operation from higher quarters, and was answered with an explicit negative. He requested a short time to consider the proposal, and in the course of the same evening replied in the following letter : — "My dear Mk. ^Mitchell, — ( " I have given the subject you submitted to me ; this morning my deepest consideration, and regret|i extremely that the conclusion at which I have arrived! is opposed to your wishes as expressed to me. " I cannot but feel that the arrangement you con-j template with regard to the Haymarket Opera House, must prove most detrimental to my interest in every way, and that in consequence I shall require all the attraction at my command to counteract such an over- whelming opposition. The absence of my professional services on tlie occasion in question can be of no pos- sible consideration to you ; for the very fact of your being so fortunate as to secure the exclusive permission of announcing Her Majesty's intended visits, must fill the theatre from floor to ceiling, without reference to the performers or performances. From my regard for you personally, and my high estimation of your character, I would waive any objection that did not involve so large a sacrifice; but as it is, the reasons for OF CHAPxLES KEAN, F.S.A. 245 a my present refusal to meet your views are unfortunately k itoo numerous and too powerful. " Yours truly, "Chaeles Kean.* This letter produced a second visit from Mr. Mit- I chell, who again endeavoured with much urgency to V: linduce Mr. Kean to rescind his determination, and in "; the course of the conversation, implied that the Court would perhaps be annoyed at his refusal to co-operate. Mr, Kean replied, " If this is your speculation, Mr. Mitchell, as a matter of business I am justified in declining. If the Court were interested in it, as a matter of courtesy, in consideration of the position I have held for so many years as director of Her Majesty's private theatricals, I should assuredly have received l some personal communication through the usual •'I I channel." These are the words that were used, for ^•' } the writer was present at the interview. Mr. Kean then, to prevent any possibility of mistake, assured Mr. Mitchell that he had no wish whatever to impede his plans ; that he would not have undertaken the speculation had it been proposed to him ; and that even now, if the slightest indication should be con- veyed to him that his services were desired, he would lay aside all objections, and instantly comply. Mr. Mitchell left him in evident anxiety to bring about this result, and with an expectation that it would be easy of accomphshment. In due course of time, the following letter decided the question. * As a proof that Mr. Kean's professional opinion as to the hijurious effect of these performances was justly based, it may be stated here that at that very period, usually the most productive of the London season, he sustained a loss of several thousand pounds. 24G THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES " London, Royal Library, Old Bond Street, " Dec. 7th, 1857. " Dear Mr. Kean, — " I had an interview with on Satur- day, and again to day. He seems quite unwilling to adopt my suggestions, and I therefore feel that I ought not to trouble you any further upon the subject. " Yours faithfully " John Mitchell.^' Here the matter ended. A correspondence sub sequently ensued between a gentleman of high position at the Court, and Mr. Kean ; but being of an unofficial character^ it was obviously not admissible into these volumes. It is quite true, as stated in some of the newspapers, that Mr. Kean proposed to open his theatre gratui- tously to the public, on a given night, to mark his respect for the occasion, provided it would suit her Majesty^s convenience to honour him with her pre- sence. The arrangement was found to be impractic- able. But another fact, no less true, was not stated in the papers, namely, that Mr. Kean conveyed, in the clearest terms, to the proper authorities, his readiness 1 to obey the slightest indication of his royal mistress's I wishes which might be communicated; but such an ' honour was not vouchsafed. There is no reason to deny that Mr. Kean did at the time feel deeply pained by the little consideration extended towards him throughout these proceedings. Can this be surprising? : He had filled for many years, by express selection, the distinguished post of director of her Majesty's private theatricals. In the discharge of that flattering, but at the same time, delicate and difficult duty, he had encountered heavy pecuniary loss, and many profes- Strea OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 247 sional annoyances ; but the coveted approbation of his august employers was dearer to his heart than all other considerations. Public and printed testimony have on more than one occasion been borne to the enthu- BH siasm with which he has invariably prosecuted his art, iigl and the total absence of selfish or mercenary feeling by which his actions have been governed. Let that evidence now be corroborated by one who founds his knowledge on long and intimate acquaintanceship. In the case under immediate discussion, Mr. Kean blended the double feeling of ardent loyalty to his queen, and an anxious desire to uphold the interests of Scijihis profession. Whatever might have been his per- ;lies sonal convictions on the subject, all would have given way at once, had a single word implied the desire which would have been joyfully hailed as a command. 248 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES CHAPTER XII. TWO NEW FARCKS : THE STOCK EXCHANGE, OR THE GREEN BUSINESii. AND SAMUEL IN SEARCH OF HIMSELF ON EASTER MONDAY — REVIVAL OF KING LE.\Jl, FROM THE TEXT OF SHAKESPEARE — TATE's ALTERATION — GENERAL AND CRITICAL REMARKS — DEATH OF MRS. DAVISON, FORMERLY MISS DUNCAN — LAST PERFORMANCE AT THE OLD ADELPHI THEATRE IN THE STRAND — PECULIAR STYLE OF AUDIENCE, ACTORS, AND AUTHORS — REVIVAL OF THE MERCHANT OF VENICE — NOVELTIES INTRODUCED— MR. KEAN'S SHTLOCK — MRS. C. KEANS PORTIA— GENERAL OBSERVA- TIONS ON THE PLAY, AND ACTORS OF THE PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS — THE NEW PRELUDE OF DYING FOR LOVE. (X\ Easter Monday, April the Otli, 1858, " Faust and Marguerite " \yas re-produced, after an interval of two years. There was no change in the cast. A new Comedietta, by Mr. Charles Dance, preceded the sub- stantial dish of the evening ; this was entitled " The Stock Exchange, or the Green Business ;" and was received with marked approbation. Its success de- pended more on the excellence of blended acting than on the predominant effect of one or two parts. In this respect nothing could be better. " Samuel in search of himself" (by Mr, Sterling Coyne and Mr. Coape), which concluded the bill of fare, was farcical and extravagant to the last extreme, well adapted in the position assigned to it, for the purpose of sending an Easter audience "laughing to their beds." The title might have puzzled Q^dipus as far as regards ana- logy or association with the plot of this amusing baga- telle, which was much indebted for its success to the acting of our old friend Harley, fresh and mercurial OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A, 249 to the last, as a novice of yesterday. " King Lear " was produced by Mr. C. Kean on Saturday, the 17th of April. Lear is in many respects the most powerful of Shakespeare's glorious imaginings ; this amounts to saying that it is the finest tragedy the human mind has ever conceived. The absolute palm, in the opinion of most critics, lies dubiously between Macbeth, Hamlet, Othello, and Lear. The poet's materials in Lear, as far as plot and incident extend, are derived from apocryphal history and acknowledged fable. From Geoffrey of Monmouth, an authority of little value, although transcribed by Holinshed ; from an older play, a preceding ballad, and a tale in the ''Arcadia" of Sir Philip Sidney, which supplies the episode, so skilfully interwoven, of Gloucester and his sons. If we are to admit, which we are not disposed to do, that Shakespeare had but the narrow allowance of classic learning so resolutely insisted on by Ben Jonson, Dr. Farmer, and others, he must, at least, have possessed an extensive acquaintance with English literature, and a memory as unbounded as his genius. On such sub- strata, collected from many mines, but amplified by his own exhaustless fancy, he created those unparalleled combinations of philosophy and poetry which have placed his name and works in a category by them- selves. This power of transmuting rough materials to costly metal never has been, and we may safely predict, never will be equalled, except under direct inspiration. Shakespeare enjoyed the happiness accorded to few writers, of living fame, and his immortality may bid defiance to time and change. But after the Restora- tion, and throughout the profligate reigns of the Stuarts, he was nearly forgotten. In a list of more than fifty plays, enumerated by the theatrical chro- niclers of the day, and running over a period of 250 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES twenty years, from 16G3 to 1683, we discover only four of Shakespeare's, including Titus Andronicus. So thoroughly was the great poet lost sight of, that when Nahum Tate produced his mangled adaptation of "Lear,^^ in 1681, he had the audacity to call it his own and it was noticed as such, at a later period, in two numbers of the Tatler. This alteration became the established text, with trifling changes and omissions ; it held possession of the stage for nearly a century and a half, from 1681 until within the last twenty years ; and this spurious version was successively adopted by all the great actors, from Betterton, Booth, Garrick, and Barry, down to John Kemble and Edmund Kean inclusive. " King Lear," as presented at the Princess's Theatre, was considered by many as the most difficult triumph which Mr. Kean had yet accomplished. His historical lectures, for so the series of revivals might be denomi- nated, have wrought a complete revolution in public taste, and placed Shakespeare on a loftier pinnacle than he ever occupied in those days so pathetically bemoaned by the advocates of supposed theatrical degeneracy, and worshipped by them and their followers as the age of giants, and the Augustan era of the British stage. Augean perhaps, would be a more appropriate term when we consider the mass of accumulated dross by which the genuine ore of the poet had been so long corrupted, and the purifying process it had to go through. /- In his arrangement of the text, Mr. Kean omits all (^ repulsive and coarse passages, while the necessary con- densation gives more rapidity to the tide of passion, and connects the incidents in an unbroken chain. The putting out of Gloster's eyes is one of those exceptional horrors that emulates the supper of Thyestes, or the OF CHAKLES KEAN, F.S.A. 251 visible murder of her children by Medea. This is merely glanced at in a few lines of dialogue, and thus a leading objection is removed without injury to the plot. Shakespeare has identified the story of the pas- sionate old king and his three daughters with England, at a time when "the land was peopled with rude heathens, and the minds and hearts of men, as yet unreclaimed by the softening influences of Christianity, were barbarous and cruel." * No exact period is in- dicated, but Mr. Kean has supposed a distinct era for the action of the play (the eighth century), sufficiently remote to assimilate witli the subject, but still within the scope of reliable authority for scenery and costume. When fact is so qualified by fiction that it is impossible to separate these conflicting ingredients, no extent of antiquarian perseverance can reach the minute accuracy which animates into living reflection the more certain age of King John, Richard II., or Henry VIII. Mr. Kean has so skilfully employed the resources which un- wearied research enabled him to collect, that in the arrangements of this great drama — in the pictorial accompaniments, whether sylvan or architectural, — in the dresses, arms, and implements, — he presented us with an original picture of early Saxon England, — fresh, glowing, and characteristic, which surprises and delights the eye, Avhile it leaves on the mind the strong impression of historical truth. In all those points it is evident that Mr. Kean trusts to no model, and refers to no previous example. He forms his own conception of Shakespeare's plays, casting aside all reminiscences of traditional precedent. Not satisfied to pursue the uncertain and ill-defined track which allured so many followers, he strikes out new paths with the hardihood of intuitive genius. His mind travels with the time, * Mr. Kean's preface. 252 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TLMES and adapts itself to the nge that sits in judgment on his efforts. Instead of saying, " I will do this because it has been done before/^ we see clearly he says, " I will avoid all these errors, for I know how they can be remedied;" and he may appeal to public opinion in testimony that his theory and practice are equally sound. The originality so strongly manifested by Mr. C. Kean in his arrangement of the play, was even more conspicuous in his performance of the leading character; perhaps the most arduous on the stage, and the greatest touchstone of the actor's power which even the exhaust- less imagination of Sliakespeare has created. Lear presents an incarnation of impulsive passion — a tem- perament easily goaded to madness under the circum- stances in which the poet has placed him. The sutferings he goes through can only be relieved by death. How thoroughly we sympathise with Kent, M'hen he closes the play with these impressive words : — " Vex not his ghost ; oh, let him pass. He hates him That would upon the rack of this tough world Stretch him out longer." In by-gone days the catastrophe was reversed, winding up with the happy marriage of Edgar and Cordelia (a mawkish interpolation), and the restoration of Lear, who was made to rejoice in his recovered authority. There were not wanting many who hailed the change as an im- provement, and more who received it as genuine Shakes- peare. The present age has been brought to a truer taste and a more just appreciation of the matchless bard ; and not to all his predecessors combined are they so much indebted for the reform as to Mr. Charles Kean. The part of Lear includes all the higher elements of tragedy under their most terrible attributes. It could OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 253 only be undertaken, with the hope of a prosperous issue, by an actor who ranks in the very first class, and com- bines an extraordinary union of mental and physical qualifications. It has been said often by professed critics^ that " Lear " is a play that cannot be acted. We incline, on the contrary, to think that it is essen- tially an acting play ; but its success or failure must entirely depend on the strength with which the leading character is delineated. The scenic appliances, the mechanicism of the storm, beautifully and picturesquely as they were employed in the present revival, would fade into nothing, unless the representative of Lear proved himself an Atlas, capable of bearing the entire weight of the tragedy on his own shoulders. The poet has given him a task far beyond ordinary reach, and measured by his own gigantic standard. Mr. C. Kean did wisely to abstain from grappling with Lear until his judgment was ripened by long experience, and his powers mellowed to their full maturity. This is one of the parts that has been said, for several generations, to have died with its immediate representative. When an actor of eminence retires from the scene, it is usual to predict that, in certain characters, he will have no suc- cessor. At the funeral of Garrick, a devoted partisan, with more zeal than wisdom, sug2;ested that the play of "Hamlet" should be buried in his grave. Yet shortly after there came Henderson, and close on his footsteps, John Kemble, who inherited the laurels of the deceased Roscius in that very part, while yet his memory was green. When Cooke died, in 1812, it was loudly pro- claimed that Shylock and Bichard had expired with him. But within two years up sprang Edmund Kean, who excelled him in both. He, too, has departed, and the proud dynasty of the Kembles is theatrically ex- tinct ; but in their places we have Charles Kean, the 254 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES worthy son of an illustrious sire, who has placed his reputation as an actor of Shakespeare far above living competition^ and has established his fame on an enduring basis, beyond all danger of subversion. Mr. C. Kean's appearance in Lear was considered a challenge to criticism, which was freely accepted. He had every reason to be satisfied with the sentence pro- nounced by the enthusiastic public, and the more cautious exponents who lead or reflect public opinion. The general verdict was that he had equalled his Hamlet and Louis the Eleventh. It would be difficult to bestow higher praise. The performance was, in truth, a mag- nificent impersonation ; not great by fits and starts, or marked by detached points, as was the case with his father's, but a splendid and harmonious whole, com- bining the result of long experience with the quick, comprehensive genius, which not only seizes on the prominent features of a portrait, but can also find a charm, a grace, and an expressive meaning, in what may appear to a less subtle apprehension but as inferior and uncharacteristic lineaments. Mr. C. Kean's manner, gait, and costume, were all in perfect keeping, and indicated the most careful study. There was a tremu- lous cadence in his voice, with an occasional break, under progressive excitement, which conveyed most naturally the impression of old age without the feeble- ness of decay. AYhen the tide of feeling swelled into an overwhelming torrent, it poured from him without any exhibition of artistic prelude. He had not pronounced half-a-dozen speeches before it was clearly manifest to the audience that he had mastered the full range of the character, the sensibility of temperament, the hasty, extravagant passion, the blind, capricious impulsiveness, so readily goaded to insanity, under excessive injury and insult. It is difficult to imagine the efi'ect with OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 255 which, at the close of the first act, he uttered the celebrated curse on Goneril To feel this truly, the actor must he followed through every preceding alter- nation of feeling, all of which converge to one point, and lead up to the climax. Mr. Kean's attitude and expression, when he flung down his hunting spear, and fell on his knees before he spoke, presented a picture worthy of the pencil of a Raphael. There is nothing in written language, ancient or modern, to compete with this tremendous imprecation. Lovers of Greek lore challenge equality for the malediction on his sons, in the " CEdipus Coloneus of Sophocles." * French critics claim even superiority for the tempest of reproach with which Camille assails her victorious brother in " Les Horaces " of Corneille. In our humble opinion, both wither into nothing when placed in direct com- parison with Shakespeare. Through the second act, the whirlwind of passion is kept up iDy Mr. Kean with increasing intensity, as suc- cessive indignities and new acts of ingratitude are heaped upon him at the hands of his second daughter, Regan. He rushes distractedly into the storm, and here his reason begins to wander. The gradual advance to the confirmed madness of the fourth act was finely discriminated ; but if we are to name a particular passage for superior praise, where all was uniformly excellent, we must select the opening scene of the fifth act, in which Lear recovers his intellects, and recognizes his daughter Cordelia. It was so natural and touching, that it excited the tears and plaudits of the house in equal proportions. After that, the aged sufferer has little to do but to expire of grief and worn-out nature, * By an oblivious inconsistency, the deniers of Sliakespeare's original .jienius and learning afftnued that he boiTOwed the idea of this passage from Sophocles. 256 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES with the murdered Cordelia in his arms. A more perfect picture than this sad group, or one that more impressively embodies the substance of a " tragic volume," was never exhibited upon the stage. The manager was well supported by his actors, who all appeared to have caught the true Shakespearean spirit. The Fool, one of the great poet's most delightful conceptions in that class, could not have been entrusted to a more pleasing representative than Miss Poole. Her scraps of old songs were artless and affecting, and softened down with exquisite relief the agonising passion of the scenes in which they are introduced. The old masters omitted the Fool. Garrick feared the buffooneries of Woodward, to whom he thought of assigning it, and abandoned the idea. John Kemble and Edmund Kean found no Fool in Tate's version, and were content to lose him. Macready was the first who restored the character. Nothing was ever more dramatically effec- tive than the contrast produced by the simplicity of this poor natural, the simulated frenzy of Mad Tom, and the gradual insanity of Lear. Mr. Ryder's Edgar was a manly and effective per- formance. One of the weekly papers called it, " a fine sketch of Hanwell before the Conquest." Mr. Walter Lacy was a showy Edmund, and Mr. Cooper pourtrayed with chastened experience, the rough loyalty of Kent. Miss Kate Terry made an interesting Cordelia, and her two unaraiable sisters, Goneril and Regan, were repre- sented with imposing beauty by Miss Heath and Miss Bufton. On Thursday, the 10th of June, 1858, after thirty- two consecutive repetitions, " King Lear '^ was with- drawn to make room for the " jNIerchant of Venice.^' Her Majesty and the Prince Consort were present on the concluding night, it being the fourth visit of the I OF CHARLES KEx^N, F.S.A. 257 royal family to this noble tragedy. Why is it that " Lear," Avhile exciting unbounded admiration, is less universally followed than other plays of inferior mark? Because, though surprising, it is unsatisfactory, and leaves an impression of pain on the spectator's mind that all the power of the poet's genius and the actor's art cannot alleviate. There is no female interest suffi- cient to soften the prevailing gloom. Cordelia is a beautiful sketch, but she is seldom seen. Goneril and Regan are unqualified fiends, more wicked and repulsive than even Lady Macbeth. The latter has commanding energy in her crimes, and is at least faithful to her husband, with one touch of feeling in reference to his JFather. The London papers of the first week of June, 1858, ontained the following announcement, which was read fvith much regret by all who knew the subject of it privately, or remembered her in her professional emi- jence : — " On Sunday, May 30th, died at Brorapton, Maria Rebecca Davison, formerly Miss Duncan, of the Theatres Royal, Drury Lane, Covent Garden, and Hay- inarket, aged seventy-eight, relict of the late James [Davison, Esq. whom she survived ten weeks." Maria Duncan was the successor of Miss Farren, and for many ;ears maintained her position as the first high comedy ictress of the London stage. The original Juliana, in he " Honeymoon," and the best Lady Teazle, Lady Vownly, Beatrice, Romp, Rosina, and Marian Ramsey, if her day. As a singer of Scotch ballads she was un- ivalled. Her parents belonged to the theatrical profes- ion, and it might almost be said she was born upon the tage. At five years of age, she acted the Duke of York, t Liverpool, to the Richard the Third of G. F. Cooke, ud was highly complimented by the great eccentric tar, — an unusual event, for he took little delight in afantine precocity. His contempt for the young VOL. n, S 258 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Roscius was expressed in unmeasured diatribes ; but then he writhed under the degradation of stooping to Glenalvon, while the boy towered above him in the interesting character of Norval. Miss Duncan, at thir- teen, played Rosefta, in "Love in a Village," at Dublin, and soon became an established favourite in the Irish metropolis. Miss Farren saw her there as a mere child, and predicted her future success. But she had still to wait her time and opportunity. Seven years after Miss Farren had lei't the stage and become Countess of Derby, Mr. AYroughton, at that period stage manager of Drury Lane, happened accidentally to see Miss Duncan perform the Widoio CheerJy (Soldier's Daughter), at ^Margate, and offered her at once a liberal engagement for the ensuing season. On the 8th of October, 1804, she appeared as Ladij Teazle, the same character in which Miss Farren had retired. On that evening, Mathews and Elliston also performed, for the first time, Sir Peter Teazle and Charles Surface. Elliston had only commenced his career at Drury Lane a fortnight before, as Rolla, and was then looked upon as the rising actor of the day. The "School for Scandal'' was repeated fifteen times. Miss Duncan followed Lady Teazle by Rosalind, Vlohmte, Lady Townly, and Maria in the " Citizen ; " but Mrs. Jordan was also in the company, and her presence somewhat restricted the opportunities of the new comer. On the 31st of Jan- uary, 1805. in the same season, Tobin's posthumous comedy of the " Honeymoon " was produced, and ran for twenty- eight nights. The Duchess afforded Miss Duncan the -most desirable of all chances in theatrical lie, afine original character, of which she amply availed herself. Her performance in this part has never been approached by any succeeding actress. Her song at the commencement of the fifth act, produced an unfailing encore ; her style of dancing, graceful yet unaffected, and OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 259 SO agreeably contrasting the movements of the lady with tliose of the rustics with whom for the moment she was associated, proved one of the most attractive features in the comedy. In this, she was admirably seconded by EUiston, who danced with such elegance, that excellent light comedians afterwards were deterred from venturing on the Duke Aranza, because they lacked that accom- plishment. Egerton, a heavy actor, selected it for his first London essay, and very nearly failed from his having neglected to worship the muse Terpsichore. Miss Dun- can married Mr. Davison on the 31st of October, 1812. Ladies on the stage are apt to consider themselves more attractive under their maiden appellations, and often continue to retain them after they have become matrons. Miss Duncan had no such weakness. " An old Actress," who has written several amusing "recollections" in the Em (the faithful record of theatrical doings), says of her departed friend : — " Her change of situation was kept a secret, and her marriage surprised every one. She was debating with me how she should he announced. We laughed at the expense of poor Mrs. G., whose husband, on account of false pride, would not suffer her real name to appear, and she was, therefore, announced as the late Miss Betterton. ' No, I will not,' said IMaria, ' be tJie late Miss Duncan, lest my friends, on seeing me act, should consider me but the ghost of my former self.' " The same pen adds, " She remained on the stage for many years after, nor quitted it until declining into the ' vale of years.' The last time I saw her on the boards was at the Haymarket (iu 1825), in a piece called 'Tribulation.' In one scene she and Dowton displayed some fine acting. 'Ah!' exclaimed Bannister, who was of our party, ' we old ones did know how to do it !' and he loudly applauded these kiiidi'ed spirits." s2 260 THE LIFE AND TKEATinCAL TIMES On Weduesclay, Juue tlie '2d, ISoS, the last perfor- mance took place at the " little Adelphi," the doors of which were then closed, never again to open on the same editice. One of the smallest and most incommo- dious ot London theatres, it had long enjoyed a peculiar reputation. The Adelphi had its own audience, its own authors, actors, and pieces. In all these there was an uuiutermpted family inheritance, never disputed, but duly descending from generation to generation. How many names of celebrity are conjured up to memory, when we glance hastily back on the tifty-three years' life of this celebrated histrionic temple, devoted to red- hot melodrama, burlesque, domestic tales of intense interest, and "screaming farce." In its earliest epoch of celebrity it was called the Sans Pareil, managed by '• true-blue Scott," as he was designated in popular phrase, with his daughter as the presiding goddess. Then succeeded Rodwell and Jones, under whom the "Torn and Jerry" mania reflected the taste of the day, and tbe freaks of " men on town ' when George IV. was king. There was much wrenching of knockers and flooring of " Charlies ' diu^g this reign of slang and the back slums ; but it helped to break up beggiug as a profitable investment, and certainly killed poor Billy Watei-s. After Rodwell and Jones came Terry. Mathews, and Yates, whose reign abounds in reminis- cences of Buckstone and Fitzball; of T. P. Cooke, O. Smith, Wilkinson, and Tyrone Power; of Wright and Paul Bedford ; of Mrs. Yates, and Mrs. Keeley ; of '•The Pilot,' ''The Flying Dutchman." " The Wreck Ashore,"" " Victorine,"' - Roiy O'More,"" aud, though last not least, of " Jack Sheppard,"" which has since been interdicted on the ground of its demoralizing example. In 1S44, ^Mr. Webster became proprietor of tue Adelphi, and appointed Madame Celeste as his I OF CHAKLES KEAX, F.S.A. 261 directress. "Then," says a notice in the Times^ "the same author who had maintained the dramatic character of the theatre during the ' Mathews and Yates ' period, came forward with his ' Green Bushes,' which may fairly be pronounced a perfect monster of success ; inasmuch as fourteen years of scarcely interrupted wear and tear have proved insufficient to destroy its [)opularity. Many pieces have been brought out with various degrees of success since first Miami crossed the bridge, with her rifle on her shoulder, and Muster Greenidge and Jack Gong convulsed London with their eccentricities; but nevertheless, Mr. Buckstone's ' Green Bushes" will always remain in the memory of ;he present generation of playgoers as the type of the jld Adelphi. Nay, if in September next, Mr. B. Web- ster, according to announcement, opens a new Adelphi o the patronage of the public, a performance of this lufading piece will be regarded as a very legitimate lOUse warming." The new Adelphi was not opened by Mr. Webster until the 26th of December, 1858, and is low one of the most elegant and commodious theatres n London. There has been much disquisition and some severe lomilies on the pernicious tendency of dramas of the 'Tom and Jerry "and "Jack Sheppard " school. It jannot be said that they elevate the character of the ;tage ; neither, perhaps, would it be easy to prove that hey have permanently injured the morals of the public. They have died sviih. the tastes and habits that inspired hem, and may they long rest in peace. Their time- lonoured prototype, the "Beggars' Opera," is now ;eldom brought forward. The stage would lose nothing f it were finally buried and forgotten. Modern taste las no perception of the poignant satire which gave orce to it when first written, and which has ceased to be 2G2 THE LIFE ^ND THEATRICAL TIMES understood or enjoyed with the times and individuals that have passed away. On Saturday, June the 12th, the " Merchant of Venice," was revived : Mr. and Mrs. C. Kean taking their annual benefit on that evening. Actors and actresses of the highest rank have won clustering laurels as the representatives of ShylocJc and Portia. Macklin, Henderson, Cooke, and Edmund Kean have been indentified by past generations with " the Jew that Shakespeare drew." Mrs. Siddons first presented herself before a London audience as the accomplished heiress of Belmont, and frequently assumed the part in her riper years. In those days, and down to the present date, the " ]\Ierchant of Venice" was treated as a quiet, domestic drama, with some exquisite passages of poetry, and a scene or two of exciting passion ; but it was never dreamed of as a vehicle for tlie most at- tractive and faithful pictorial embellishment, or as a medium for historical illustration equally delightful and instructive. It would be impossible to produce a stronger contrast than that furnished by the present subject when con- sidered with reference to its immediate predecessor. Lear is all wild, romantic, rudely magnificent, painful in progress and catrastrophe ; it touches the extreme verge of tragic pathos and almost extends to the horrible. The " Merchant of Venice," on the other hand, pre- sents a continued series of softened and delicious pictures; not all light, it is true, for then the sur- rounding glare would be intolerable, but M'ith enough of shade and contrast to heighten while it relieves the prevailing brilliancy. The historical importance of Venice has passed away for ever; her palaces are crumbling, her gondolas glide silently through the canals unenlivened by song ; the haunt of merchants is OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 2Go no longer on the Rialto ; — but the immortal verse of Shakespeare has invested the fair city of the sea with a charm for Englishmen which cannot perish with passing events, but which lives and blooms despite of political or national changes. '' For unto us she hath a spell beyond Her name in story, and her long array Of mighty shadows, whose dim forms despond Above the dogeless city's vanish'd sway ; Ours is a trophy which will not decay With the Rialto ; Shylock and the Moor, And Pierre, cannot be swept or worn away — The keystones of the arch ! though all were o'er, For us re-peopled were the sohtary shore." The "Merchant of Venice" has suffered less at the hands of mutilators than many of Shakespeare's equally popular dramas. Until Macklin restored the true version in 1741, a miseral)le imitation by Lord Lans- downe, called the "Jew of Venice/' (in 1701) had superseded it as an acting play. In this, Shylock was buffooned into a low comic character, performed by Dogget, grotesquely habited and vulgarized. It re- quired sometime before the public could be reconciled to the change. As in the case of the Gravedigger's innumerable waistcoats in Hamlet, the galleries were unwilling to give up their traditional laugh. From the days of Macklin until ]Mr. C. Kean's revival, no one meddled with the text, and arrangement of the play, as the contemporary of Quin and Garrick had settled it. Macklin was a fine actor, in a very limited range, and an author of some literary pretensions — witness his comedy of the "Man of the World," and the farce of " Love a la Mode." But he Avas neither archaeologist, nor painter, nor poet, nor an enthusiast for historical accuracy ; and if he had been either or all of all these, 2(U THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES tlie age in which he lived could not have understood him. We have often felt surprised that Garrick never i attempted Shylock. He would have done wonders in the part, with his fiery eye, his animated features, and liis flexible voice. Perhaps he was deterred by the previous fame of Macklin, and unwilling to break a lance with so formidable a competitor. Let us now consider what the taste and study of Mr. Kean have called into life from rich but hitherto neglected materials. The curtain draws up and we discover ourselves in Venice, the famed Queen of the Adriatic, " throned on her hundred Isles." Not repre- sented as of old, by the traditionary pair of flats of Gothic aspect, symbolical alike of every age or country since the style was invented ; but we see the actual j '■ square of St. Mark with the campanile and clock-tower, | " the cathedral, and the three standards, painted from drawings taken on the spot ; restored, as in 1600, when Shakespeare wrote the play, and the incidents he has so skilfully interwoven are supposed to take place. Throngs of picturesquely-contrasted occupants gradually fill the area, passing and re-passing in their ordinary avocations. Nobles, citizens, inquisitors, foreigners, traders, water-carriers, and flower-girls are there ; a ^ ' flourish of trumpets announces the approach of the Doge, who issues in state procession, on his way to some public ceremony. The arrangement of the scene acts as an introductory prologue, and tells a story of identity which at once transplants us to the spot we are supposed to look on, and recals the era designated. Antonio and his companions, who open the play, come forward naturally from the surrounding groups, and commence the dialogue and acting. In all there was truthfulness and novelty ; a richness of conception and a union of poetry, never before attempted or imagined. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 265 which, from the first moment, thoroughly engaged the attention of the audience. The scene now shifts to the country residence of Portia, at Belmont, in which the saloon of the caskets presents a gorgeous picture of mediaeval architecture and domestic luxury. Shylock is then introduced in the square of the Rialto, the exchange of Venice. Here was the real resort of merchants, and not the bridge, as some have erroneously supposed. The second act embraces a general view »f Venice, taken from one of its most picturesque points, containing the canals, bridges, and gondolas, with all the peculiar localities and distinctive palaces that mark this strange city as a gem without a parallel. Here; the abduction of Jessica takes place, in the midst of the frolic and bustle of a masquerade, as indicated by the words of the text. There have been many beautiful exhibitions of dancing and merriment in the Princess's Theatre, characteristic of various ages and countries ; but none that in general estimation has equalled this. A Vene- tian carnival is a thing of itself, as distinct from any other street revel, from a bal masque in the Opera House at Paris, from a country festival, or from an assembly m a private drawing-room, as can possibly be imagined. The great wonder is how, in so small a space, such an appearance of vast extent could be con- veyed, and how so many groups, and such complicated movements, could be so gracefully organized. The third act takes us again to Belmont, where Bassanio wins his lovely prize. In this portion of the play, too, we have the Rialto Bridge in its proper place, and no longer doing duty as the sole memorial by which Venice has, until now, been dramatically familiarized to us. The celebrated trial scene of the fourth act, where the poet puts forth all his strength, and the 256 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES interest of tlie plav is so finely worked up, takes place ill the " Sala dei Pregadi," or Hall of the Senators, one of the most remarkable rooms in the seignorial palace. The architecture and ornaments are puncti- liously preserved. The costumes are taken from indis- putable authority ; but the stage arrangement is exclu- sively novel, and emanates entirely from Mr. Kean's profound knowledge of his art and managerial skill. He has utterly disregarded all conventional precedent, and, confiding in his own genius, has succeeded in embodying the most impressive court of justice that has ever been subjected to the criticism of a theatrical audience. We may readily imagine the amount of mind and physical exertion which must have been brought to bear to arrive at this [jcrfect result. It is not alone by the acting of the principal characters, or by the suj)erior intelligence of leading agents, that the harmonizing effect is produced. The dumb magnificoes, the subordinate officers, the clerks, heralds, and secre- taries, the spectators crowded in the galleries and door-ways, all demonstrate the same interest in the gradual progress of the proceedings, and produce a succession of pictures in which nothing is out of keeping, but which satisfy the eye and critical judg- ment of the most fastidious artist, while they positively enchain the faculties of the general mass of beholders. The verse of Shakespeare tells with tenfold power when aided and expounded by these hitherto neglected accessories. The chief interest of the " Merchant of Venice " undoubtedly ends with the defeat of Shylock and the rescue of Antonio. For this reason some sapient com- mentators, who persuade themselves that they could dictate improvements to Shakespeare, have denounced the last act as trifling and unnecessary. A few words OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 2(57 of explanation^ they say, at the close of the trial, would have sufficed to discover Portia and Nerissa to their husbands ; and then the curtain should have dropped. Garrick was persuaded by reasoning similar to this, when he curtailed " Hamlet" of the two last acts, and wound up with the play scene. But, happily, the judg- ment of posterity has vindicated the original intention of the author. Nothing, to our taste, can be more natural and pleasing than the return to Belmont, in the play we are now noticing, and the mode in which the final explanation takes place. If the objectors could have witnessed the repose and harmony of the moonlight garden, provided by Mr. Grieve, and the lively grace of Mrs. Kean, in the equivoque included in the speeches of Portia, they would have felt, even if they wanted the grace to confess, that the great poet was a truer interpreter of his own mind, and a more consummate master in dra- matic science, than they, with their mistaken crotchets. In his veneration for the pure text of Shakespeare, Mr. Kean has been careful to avoid substituting an expression or a line not emanating from the original source. He has, of necessity, expunged a few coarse passages, which illustrate nothing beyond the colloquial style and manners of an epoch less refined than the present. This comes under the head of purification, not omission, and takes nothing from strength, while it vindicates delicacy. The scenes of courtship by the Princes of Arragon and Morocco, had for many years been excluded from the acting play ; why, it is too late as well as needless, to inquire ; but their restoration is an important feature, which heightens the interest at- tached to the episode of the caskets. They are mate- rial also to the complete development of the position, character, and feelings of Portia. Mr. Kean well knows the value of music and dancing, when those 268 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES charming auxiliaries can be employed without violating consistency. The serenade under Jessica's window; the song, " Tell me, where is fancy bred ? " while Bassanio is commenting silently before the caskets on which his fate depends ; and the madrigal in the last act, in Portia's pleasure-grounds, are as appropriately introduced as they were pleasingly executed. The night carnival which terminates the second act equals the celebrated " Dionysia " in the " Winter's Tale," but in a totally different style ; and is, in fact, such a passage from real life as could only be witnessed in Venice, or on the boards of the Princess's Theatre. What is there wanting in the " Merchant of Venice," as represented by INIr. Kean, that genius can conceive, art combine, or unlimited expenditure, regulated by elegant taste, accompl is h ? We have a play most in geniously constructed, exquisite poetry, and vigorous delineation of character, which no mind but Shake- speare's could have moulded together; combined with acting of the most masterly description, heightened by all that painting, grouping, dressing, and stage ar rangemeut can supply to complete a succession of pictures, harmonious in the general blending, and graphically distinct in each separate division. If any mortal appetite is not satisfied with this, and still re- quires more, the daughter of the horse-leech must cease to be quoted as a type of inordinate expectation. Portia is one of the most fascinating of Shakespeare^s female portraits. With a wise head on young shoulders, we love while we admire her, and envy Bassanio the cer- tainty of his coming happiness. When we regard the feminine grace, purity, delicacy, and depth of feeling with which Shakespeare has so lavishly embellished his heroines ; and when we remember, too, that in the days of dramatic infancy under which he wrote, his Violas, OF CHARLES KEAX, F.S.A. 269 Rosalinds, Juliets, Desdemonas, and Ophelias, were personated by boys or bearded men,* it would be worth the "jewel of Giamschid" or the Koh-i-noor to see him restored in the flesh for a single evening, to witness Mrs. C. Kean's delightful Portia. Our stage experience carries us a long way back, more years than there is any occasion to specify ; but we remember no one who can be placed in comparison with her, taking into account all the varied qualities of this noble, and, at the same time, gentle and affectionate example of woman in her most attractive attributes. Comic actresses of celebrity have given infinite effect to the lighter passages, but have failed entirely in the great touchstone of the play — the trial scene. Under Garrick's reign, Mrs. Clive, unrivalled in her line as a chambermaid, a termagant, or a hoyden, was long permitted to burlesque Portia, for which she was utterly unsuited. When personating the doctor of laws, she gave imitations of the leading barristers of the day. Garrick felt the absurdity, but he lived under awe of her sarcastic wit, and dared not dis- possess her of a part she held by prescriptive right and the favour of the public. On the other hand, some melancholy daughters of Melpomene, with smile as mournful as their sighs, in depicting faithfully the graver features of Portia, have lost sight of the un- affected ease and gaiety, the high tone of natural elegance, the inherent light-heartedness, with which the poet has gifted this charming creature of his fancy. We know not in which her present represen- tative displays the greatest excellence. In the garb and demeanour of the advocate, she was forensic wis- * We all remember the anecdote of the apology made to Charles II., who beg-an to be impatient of delay, that the play could not begin until the Queen was shaved. 270 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES dorn personified. In her own palace, and in her natural habiliments, she looked and moved the princess, in- spiring affection, while she commanded respect and obedience. Shylock stands alone in the dramatic repertory. The part is short, and concentrated into three scenes, unlike any other from the same hand ; intense, but not varied. He stands in complete isolation on the Shake- spearean cauvas. We never find him, or even a shadow of him. again. The passions of hatred and revenge, national and sectarian, in their strongest de- velopment, form the very essence of his nature. These are common enough in humanity ; but, as the great master of the human heart has here depicted them, they assume a harrowing individuality which belongs to the one terrible exception. It is so with Mr. C. Kean's embodiment of the character. We cannot trace in it the slightest resemblance to any of the other great parts with which his name has become identified. There is not a sentence, an action, or a glance, suggestive of Hamlet, Macbeth, Lear, Wolsey, or Louis the Eleventh. By this faculty of abstract painting, this singleness of conception, when required, the actor proves, iu the most convincing manner, his perfect sway over the art he practises, and his full intelligence of the author he undertakes to reflect. Weighed as dramatic metal, Shylock is all pure gold, without dross. He has no superfluous scenes, no supplemental speeches, no diluted eloquence. He utters no syllable without a pungent meaning, and has a sarcasm in every sentence. Per- petual vituperation of his creed, his nation, and his calling, has moulded him into a concentrated retort, a sort of rolled-up porcupine, with his quills pointed iu every direction. Some critics found fault with Mr, C. Kean for showing, as they said, too much feeling, — for OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 271 heightening the two or three passages that humanize this repulsive character. Why should he not ? He has the text to guide him. Shakespeare has made Shylock express affection for the memory of his wife, and place confidence in his daughter. He entrusts her with his keys, and leaves her in charge of the house at night. He spits out venom, it is true, without mea- sure ; but always in reply, and never in attack. He is not malignant from nature, or without strong pro- vocation. The dramatic elements of Shylock are so clearly defined, that it would seem impossible for a man of talent to miss the intended effect ; and yet although, with the exception of Garrick, all the leading actors of successive ages have grappled with him, few have achieved a complete victory. It was Henderson's trial part before a London audience in 1777, at the Hay- market. Macklin attended, and praised him as a debutant of promise. " I assure you. Sir,'' said the recruit, " that I never had the advantage of seeing you in this character." "I can readily believe that," replied the veteran ; " if you had, you would have played very differently." Cooke, in 1800, almost effaced the memory of Henderson's Shylock. He was pro- nounced the legitimate successor of Macklin, until Edmund Kean rose like a meteor in 1814, and Cooke's warmest admirers acknowledged that he was beaten. Charles Kean has now stepped into the place vacated by his father, to complete the quintumvirate of great Shylocks, and satisfy the world that the modern stage has not degenerated. The Kembles — John, Stephen, and Charles — each in their turns donned the gaber- dine of the Jew ; but they would have done more wisely to have left it in the wardrobe. Young and Macready must be added to the list ; but none of the 272 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES last named five added anything to their reputations, while perhaps they disturbed the spirit of Shakespeare by wilfully flying in the face of their peculiar attributes. Legions of daring novices have broken down hopelessly in the ambitious experiment. There is all that can be desired in Mr. C. Kean's style, in his figure, his eye, his features, his distinct elocution, his epigrammatic terseness, his impassioned delivery, and his quick, expressive action, to fit him for complete success in this most striking and original impersonation, Mr. Kean received more complimentary letters on liis performance than would fill a small volume. We select one in particular, from high classical authority : — " 11, Carlton House Tenace, " July 14th, Ibob. " My dear Mr. Keax, — "Allow me to thank you very particularly, m my wife's name and my own, for the treat which the * Merchant of Venice ' afforded us last night. I have found in each of your representations from Shake- speare, that the individuality you give to every play efi'ectually obviates all risk of sameness, either in the characters, or what is more difficult, in the 7nise en scene ; and that no new effort you have made disappoints, even when subjected to the very severe test of comparison with its predecessors. " Let me also thank Mrs. Kean for her large share in our gratification last evening. " I am sorry that your very pressing employments have prevented us from meeting lately ; but I trust that in another season Mrs. W. Gladstone and I mav he more fortunate. " Believe me ^■ery faithfully yours, "^V. Gladstone. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 273 •' P.S. — I should have wished to bestow many com- pliments on your ' King Lear ' in particular, did I not feel that my ignorance and inexperience would render it presumptous." Miss Chapman, a niece of Mrs. Kean's, made her first appearance on any stage as Jessica. She was evidently oppressed by the embarrassment of her position, and rendered even more timid by the kind reception with which she was welcomed. Her appearance was ex- tremely prepossessing, her voice sweet, and her manner untainted by affectation, evidently betokening a familiar acquaintance with good society. On the 28th of June, the " ]\rerchant of Venice " was heralded in by a lively trifle of French paren- tage, from the indefatigable pen of Mr. J. M. Morton, under the name of " Dying for Love," — a close transla- tion of the original title, " Aimer et ^lourir." The English adapter contrived to heighten the very slender materials with his usual characteristic humour. This little piece ran with the "Merchant of Venice"' to the close of the season. VOL. !t. 274 THE LIFE AND THEATPJCAL TIMES CHAPTEE XIII. DEATH OF THE CELEBRATED FRENCH ACTRESS MADEMOISELLE RACHEL, AT liE CANNET NEAR MONTPELLTER — SHORT SUMMARY OF HER THEATRI- CAL CAREER — HER ENORMOUS PROFITS IN A FEW YEARS — HER WILL, AND FUNERAL OBSEQUIES. On the night of Sunday, the 4th of July, 1858, jNIademoiselle Rachel, the pride of the French stage, and one of tlie greatest tragic actresses of any country, died at Le Caunet, in the south of France, after a lingering and painful illness. Her repeated engage- ments in London associate her name in some degree with the English drama, and her world-wide reputation entitles her to a passing word in the theatrical remi- niscences of the time. Young in days, but mature in fame, she was removed from the scene of her earthly triumphs before she had completed her thirty-eighth year. When Rachel returned from America in 185-5, her health was so evidently broken, that her medical advisers at once pronounced her incapable of resuming the duties of her profession. She had caught cold by being too thinly attired at an evening party in New York, and the cold settled on her lungs. From that moment she never ceased to cough. The climate of Cairo was recommended as a last resource — a sentence almost as fatal as Madeira to the consumptive English- man. To the banks of the Nile she accordingly repaired, in seai'ch of the anticipated amendment, which eluded her grasp ; and after a fruitless sojourn she returned to OF CHAULES KEAX, F.S.A. 270 die in the south of France. Not long before her demise, she recalled to her medical attendants an incident of the period of her greatest success. She was playing Phedre, and the Bey of Tunis critically said of her, at the end of the piece, " She has a soul of fire in a body of gauze." It was with a melancholy sigh she remarked to her doctor, "^ Alas! he was right; and now you see that the fire has destroyed the gauze." Many of the living generation have seen and recol- lect Georges and Duchesnois. Rachel may be pro- nounced, on comparative evidence, superior to both. Her mien in the grand heroines of Greek and Roman tragedy was more severely classical. In feature, form, and attitude, in the arrangement of her drapery and the grace of her action, she presented the animated ^''■embodiment of a statue, fresh from the chisel of Chan- s'' itrey or Canova. Mademoiselle Rachel, or, more properly speaking, » fihzabeth Rachel Felix (for such was her correct desig- lation), was of Jewish descent and persuasion. She irst saw the light on the 28th of February, 1821, in a niseraljle country imi at an obscure village called Munf, in the small canton of Aran, in Switzerland. t: ler father, a native of Metz, and her mother, whose naideu name was Esther Haya, followed the avocation f itinerant pedlars or hawkers, and for ten years after ler birth were incessantly occupied in travelling ;hrough Switzerland and Germany. They encountered nany privations in this peripatetic life, and struggled igainst a hard lot with fortitude and perseverance. Tired at last of wandering, they migrated with their % iamily to Lyons, where Madame Felix set up a stall or the sale of her goods, and Monsieur Felix at- ;empted to teach an imitation of German. But sustomers and scholars came in slowly. Sarah, their ,,, o 276 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TlilES eldest daughter, frequented the various coffee-houses, where she sang ballads, accompanied by herself on the guitar; while the little Rachel, her junior-assis- tant, went round the tables with a plate or a basket, to collect voluntary contributions. In 1830, the family made their way to Paris, poor, straggling, and unknown, with no internal consciousness or presentiment of the brilliant future which fortune had in store for them. In the metropolis of France they eked out existence much after the fashion they had followed at Lyons. Rachel, now increased in stature, executed duets with her sister throughout the day at the doors of public places, and in the evening brouglit home the diurual receipts to the family garret in the Place de Greve. These homely details have been denied by injudicious flatterers; but the subject of them, with superior good sense and indepen- dent spirit, frequently related the particulars herself. During this epoch, Etienne Choron, founder of the Royal Institution of Religious Music, chanced to encounter the young vocalists. He was struck by their natural gifts, and proposed to them to join his class. Rachel, of the two, had made the greatest impression on him, and in a consequent visit to her parents, he pressed for her in preference to Sarah. She became his pupil, and he pledged himself to take care of her advancement. Her names were then condensed into Elisa, to please her master. In a short time it was discovered that her magnificent organ of voice, metallic, sonorous, and flexible, was better adapted to produce startling eff'ects in impassioned recitation, than in the more restricted field of scientific music. Whereupon Choron transferred his i^rotigee to St. Aulaire, who trained up candidates for the stage at an establishment not connected with the CoTiser- OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 277 'vatoire. Rachel, up to this period, had received scarcely any education, and read with difficulty. St. Aulaire bestowed on her four years of careful tuition, and taught her, word by word, the parts of Hermione, Iphigenie, and Mary Stuart. But the pupil was per- petually at variance with her instructor. By a strange misconception of her own capabilities, her bent inclined to the chambermaids, or light heroines of comedy — a mistake to which she long continued to cling, in spite of experience and proved inferiority. In October, 1836, Rachel became a pupil of the Conservatoire, in the class of Michelot. She was then in her seventeenth year, and her parents were impa- tient to turn her talent to current account. The wolf was seldom absent from their door. Their poverty increased with their increasing numbers. K"ot many months after Elisa had become a member of the Conservatoire, Poirson, manager of the Gymnase, happened to be present at a representation of Racine's Ipliigenia in Aulis," which took place in the Salle Chantereine. The part of Eriphile was sustained on this occasion by the youthful Jewess. The character ;is not historical, but an interpolated creation of the author, of a very unamiable cast. It contains, never- theless, dramatic force, with a good spice of vindictive passion. The veteran saw, admired, and yielded to the power of an inexperienced novice. Nature spoke in her earnest tones, while strong feeling flashed from her dark eye. Poirson's receipts had for some time been dwindling down on a regularly graduated scale. His money chest was threatened with consumption. The usual frequenters of his theatre yawned over milk and water vaudevilles, and went elsewhere in search of more ticklins: food. He determined to lure them back, if possible, before his declining treasury was symbolized 278 THE LIFE AND THEATRirAL TIMES by an infinite decimal. A treaty Avas soon concluded with Monsieur Felix, for his daughter, on liberal terms, Anth an express stipulation tliat the common-place name of Elisa should be dropped for ever, and that of Bachel substituted in its place. A new drama by Paul Duport. entitled " La Yen- deenne/' was ordered, written, and prepared for her lirst appearance. The press sounded the usual pre- liminary flourishes, the hour of trial arrived, tlie public crowded to the double novelty, but the result proved fatal to both. The piece and the debutante fell toge- ther. The part of La Vendcenne belonged to no de- fined class. It came within the range of comedy, was unsuited to Rachel's style, and afforded no scope for her peculiar attributes. The manager in disappoint- ment and indignation withdrew the play from the bills, and reduced his recruit to the ranks. Her spirit nearly sank under this unlooked for disgrace. The prospect of delivering messages instead of personating heroines, appeared to crush for ever her aspiring hopes. It was in vain that she applied to Vedel (director of the Theatre Francais) for succour or advice. He left her letters unanswered and avoided all personal interviews. He was, in fact, a mere titular monarch without power or prerogative beyond the empty name. The associated members of the Theatre Francais acknowledge a sove- reign, but rule as viceroys over him. The government is a sort of oligarchical republic with a nominal head, — a Doge of Venice controlled by the Council of Ten. Michelot, RacheVs master at the Conservatoire, look- ing upon her prospects as entirely marred by this false step, ceased to take any further interest in her fate. In despair, she had reoourse to Provost, a leading come- dian of the Theatre Francais. He treated her preten- sions with the most undisguised contempt, told her she t OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 279 would never become an actress, advised her to renounce all idea of the stage, and to sell Ijouquets on the Boule- vards. Discouraged again, but not utterly beaten, she now repaired to Samson, the living Moliere of the French drama, equally renowned as author and actor. Here she was more fortunate. He heard her recite, and his attention was speedily rivetted. He expressed the most unbounded admiration at the extent and quality of her voice, and undertook to train her up in the line which nature so imperatively indicated that she should follow. Governed by his sound experience she renounced her favourite chamber-maids, and devoted her combined energies to the lofty range of tragedy. After a few months thus profitably employed, her clouded horizon began to brighten, Vedel became more accessible, and having patched up a truce with his refractory confederates, was allowed for a time to exercise his own discretion. He wisely suffered his judgment to be led by the decided opinion of Samson. Not long after, the bills and advertisements announced :Mademoiselle Rachel, at the Theatre Fran^ais, as Ca- mille, in the far-famed " Horaces " of Corneille. It was a daring hazard for a young girl, damped by previous failure, and who had only completed the first quarter of her nineteenth year. The turning point of her des- tiny had now arrived. The chances were heavily against her, and the time of year the most unfavourable that the chapter of accidents could have selected. It was approaching midsummer, the intense heat had ren- dered Paris a desert ; all the world was at the sea-side or in the country. The streets could have been shelled from the heights of Belleville or Montmartre without- much loss of anything but ammunition. A thinly scattered, listless, and unexpectant audience assembled at the Francais on the evening of that 280 THE LIFE AND TIIEATIIICAL TIMES eventful 12th of June, 1838. The stalls were deserted, and the voices of the actors reverberated back in hollow echoes from the thinly populated area of the pit and boxes. But in that small assemblage three individuals were included who could make or crush a reputa- tion, — Dr. Veron, Merle, and Jules Janin ; a trium- virate of critics, from whose sentences there was no appeal, and who governed theatrical opinion in Paris as despotically as the Emperor of all the Russias en- thrals the minds and bodies of his sixty millions of serfs. It pleased them on this occasion to be enthusi- astic in praise. Janin, in particular, indited an article in the Debats, which settled the question beyond cavil, and assured the success of the aspiring novice. Within five months the new star was enabled to enumerate six distinct and successive triumphs in as many great and opposite characters. A seventh was yet wanting to the list, which Vedel persuaded her, with some misgiving, to undertake. Accordingly, on the 23d of November, 1838, she was announced for Roxcme, in " Bajazet," an imperious virago, before whom Lady Macbeth QXiA Clytemnestra sink intotameness; — another " adorable fury,^' as the French critics designate cer- tain intemperate heroines of Corneille. The associates of the company had already began to boil over with jealousy, although their pockets were at the same time stuffed to unwonted repletion, as they shared in the managerial gains. But even money con- soled them not for being partially eclipsed and placed on the shelf. Comedy, they exclaimed, was in danger of total extinction ! and they were called upon, in the general interest, to make a stand before Rachel trampled tliem all under her feet. Several of the influential papers were induced to side with the malcontents. It was determined that Roxane should immolate Rachel. OF CHAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 281 As soon as she appeared in this new character on the appointed evening, she became suddenly conscious of the conspiracy, and felt that it was serious by the coldness of her reception, the frozen temperament of the pit, and the whispering of the boxes. On this night, every paltry but calculated artifice which an envious and unmanly clique could think of, was put in practice to disconcert the actress and enfeeble her wonted execution. For the moment they prevailed, and dragged down their intended victim far below the level of her usual standard. Even Jules Janin went over to the camp of the enemy, and published to the world in a laboured criticism that Roxane was a mise- rable failure. But, on the second performance, Kachel rose in her inherent strength despite all opposition, carried the unprejudiced portion of the audience with her in a whirlwind of applause, and, for once, the ora- cular dictum was disregarded as a malicious fallacy. At the third representation, the doors were crowded from an early hour ; and, on the fourth, the receipts approached 300?. That evening she was nearly smothered under the storm of wreaths, coronets, and bouquets showered upon her from all parts of the house, as she re-appeared in obedience to an enthusiastic call, after the tragedy had concluded. On the following day she piled the trophies in a carriage, and drove to the residence of Provost. " Buy some of these,'' said she, " since you advised me to sell them." " Forgive a false prophet," replied the old comedian with ready gallantry, " and seal his pardon with a kiss." Rachel had now firmly established her position. Conspiracy henceforward was treated with contempt, and she reigned without fear of rebellion or de- thronement. The highest circles in Parisian society courted her acquaintance, and the most fashionable 282 THE LXFE AND THEATRICAL TliTES drawing-rooms received her as an hoDonred guest. In ISoS, there existed in Paris a select coterie of a demi- rdigioDS diaracter. divided betvreen the spiritoal and the TolnptnoDs. of whidi Madame Recamier. a living !Nlnon de TEndos. the ci-devant Tenus of the Direc- tfflnr and Consulate, was president, and Chateanbriand an influential member. There were bishops and areh- bisbops amoDgst them, and an imposing arrav- of lite- rary cel^ritieSy male and female. This entire conclave ardenthr desired to convert the gifted and popnlsr dangbter of IsraeL It would have been a no: acinerement to win over such an illustrious neopbv^ to the bosom rf tbe Catholic Church. Bachel astuteiy bmnoored die a^iirations of her zealous patrons, and to mrstilT them more completelT fell into their suggestion of studying the part of the Christian convert, Pauline, in Comeille's " Polyeucte Martyr.*^ This professional stratagem was crowned with signal succe^. She won their sympathies, commanded their support, received their lavish preseats — and remained true to tbe faith cfber Others. The extrMMrdinary and enduring attraction of Rachel ai^ieared to justify the demand of unprecedented pay- ment. In England, the leading theatrical st:. daw make more by country engagements in a : _ tlian they can command in the metropolis tkr«>»ghou: a long season. London gives them the stamp and repu- tation by which they are enabled to work the provinces as an nnfiniHiig mine. It is the same in France, when tbey can get the c^ipmtanities, which are not so readily affofded. Leave of absence from Paris is more : : ^ : ill to obtain, and absence without kave is visited focfiatnres which are rigidly exacted, includi:-.: .: pieaent pay and future pension. It is construed. : : into an act of contempt again^ the sovereign pu ' / : Of CaASLES EEA^T- F-S^A. ?5S tie jSiTPSKt TKapalsritT, "Ra r-tnipii, af&iWr SSBHDe tSBBlC ItiB CXaCC *?n: T^C'PTlrti^ BSkd, &OBI 1M5 of lerT all rbsl «e Inow- or haoKi heaod of a£ ioBe or aSvoa^ aod irvals 1^b£ recorded of Ac gsiK «i»wgd ^ r«rD or rrjr-f-f £Tsat ■^ T5aerE ^w«e •^ w^ -DOv, as aaataialaiBseigxiE^:- .: ^>,:-... to tflsm dteir 1^00^1$ xo xh^ sts^ to fiiDow Ulie Mwe of 1^ iriaeii itau c. . Ikeor sBtET to sack a sjmsk df waaihk sai &b:. as xatoia% lesponied to t^ ol, aai rss: qoazler tin <» ^e tiKStfie. ^e ^thoa^i it - pffiEtkaDv, wdi^gioa^ li^ toitabeecr From ^ opnmg dayScr of 4e knon to tine iMt, oImm c wt itway lie ■ipp li i l, c done. does, and will «»dMe to do, tiif B%iit or wroag, tite fnodfie ^ si^fwrtj&i pnetMfiL Bis^odl, F^ix, Solad^ £e^-: tlie iod&mt Dunk were saeoe^n^iKr ear fsm camjpaiBT amd iwrae oa tig tre»aKgi^s!«aaik> — - rioiv &r noae tlom titer vere urart^ BitfkH eeaii warad eDp^«n)i»£LS £ar ker i^sdioB&biit ^iP vas to iaiocaalate th^an -villi ker «einBSL Scareeh- a ^x^ df ker wanrile deseoaded tm ikeir skosloers, vida an es- eepdoD, pokaps, sa taxmr of Bekeeca, wk© •»»« iadi- eatioBs of praaabe, k«t 4£ed fnaniimiir.lT. He p^fir SQ«m kegaa to fed tloa ibbc^^ kad laalMr tsM iBavr of tkc fitoailr.^ Sttck a ssidiiiiiiciST of H^ivew^ des^sattMa^ apfieu«a m «be kifis, aakd so muck Jerosk pkys w^ a — j presemtod itself oa tke koKids, tkax feefde 284 THE LIFE AXI) THEATRICAL TIMES said, " Let us go to the Theatre FraiK^ais," but " Let u^ look in at the Sj^nagogue." The Siddons of the French stage (like our own always rose in the delineation of terrible, majestic, and overwhelming rage with greater effect than when simple tenderness or grief was to be depicted, Avithout any mixture of the sterner passions. She astonished the mind more intensely than she touched the heart, and called forth vociferous plaudits in greater abundance than the silent homage of tears. Her undisputed supremacy was achieved in characters of which the prominent features are, hatred, contempt, irony, rage, or despair. Those who have seen her as Camille in " Les Horaces," can never forget the thrilling burst of agony with which she wound up the celebrated im- precation against Rome, in the fourth act, addressed to her brother, when he returns victorious from the combat, after having slain her lover and betrothed husband. It being Rachel's ambition to include in her range all the recognised heroines of the classical French drama, she continued from year to year to go through the entire series. In all she was powerful and original, but Phedre has been generally pronounced her master- piece, as it had formerly been considered that of her precursor, Duchesnois. The writer of this notice has seen them both, and perfectly recollects the peculiar excellences of each. Nothing could be more opposite than their appearance and manner. Little similarity could be traced, except in the effect, which was pro- duced with equal force by different means. In quality of voice, and skill in modulation, they were nearly on a par; but Rachel had immeasurably tlie advantage of personal appearance. In the Phedre of Duchesnois vou saw and felt a consummate actress, but in Rachel OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 285 you looked upon and acknowledged the veritable pre- sence of the guilty wife of Theseus, the poetical creation of Euripides and Racine, devoured by a passion bej^ond control, and enthralled by a fatal destiny which ren- ders resistance hopeless. Both Duchesnois and Rachel reflected nature through the perfection of art, but the art was more skilfully concealed by the latter and younger representative. It has been repeatedly said by Rachel's detractors (and where is the genius that can escape detraction ?) that her talent was confined to a facility of execution ; that she could do nothing without being taught, and possessed within herself no creative or imaginative power. That, in short, she was a mere parrot, quick to catch au oral impression, or to remember a lesson, but utterly without mental resources, and incapable of teaching herself. In support of this conclusion her defective education has been set forward as a leading argument. According to this censorious clique, when- ever Rachel undertook a new part, she fled to her pre- ceptor and adviser, Samson, from whom she imbibed the inspiration which she could adopt and appropriate with felicitous dexterity ; but which, in the absence of superior intellect, she wanted the faculty of originating. At the close of the most harrowing performance, said these determined oppositionists, when the spectators were bewildered with conflicting emotions, the hand of Rachel was cold, her pulse beat no quicker than usual, her features were composed, and she exhibited no synptom of exhaustion from mental or physical fatigue. In opposition to the well-known canon of Horace, she excited thousands to' enthusiasm, without participating in the fever she had caused. These are extreme opinions, which confute them- selves. Admit that this great artist, in common with 286 THE LIFE AND THEATEICAL TIMES many others, has had recourse to instruction, and I'eceived imparted ideas, — whence came the variety which those who have seen her often and studied her closely, cannot fail to have observed in her delineations of the same character on different occasions ? If she merely repeated a lesson acquired by rote, repetition might mellow but could not alter the manner in which that lesson would be delivered. It was always impos- sible to pronounce judgment on Rachel from her first performance of any given part. On such trials she was often uncertain of her effects, and not until the third or fourth experiment, when she had become confident in the soundness of her conception, could she be said to have discovered or put forth her full strengtii. When Rachel obtained her first leave from the Theatre Fran^ais in 1840, her earliest provincial visit was to the great commercial city of Lyons. Here she produced a furor equal to that she had excited in Paris, and at the conclusion of her engagement, the enthu- siastic functionaries of the corporation presented her with a coronet of massive gold, valued at 350 Napoleons. After a triumphal progress through many of the lead- ing towns in France, in 1841 she repaired to London. and made her first appearance before an English audience at the Opera House in the Hayraarket, then under the management of Laporte. Her attraction exceeded even the most sanguine expectations, and was crowned by the present of a magnificent ring from her majesty Queen Victoria, as a tribute to her profes- sional excellence. In the following year she came again to the same theatre, which had then passed into the hands of INIr. Lumley. Between 1846 and 18.* 3, she fulfilled five successive engagements with ]\Ir. Mitchell at the St. James's, during which the London pubhc had oppor- OF CHARLES KEAX, F.S.A. 287 tuuities of seeing lier in nearly the entire range of her great characters. She brought many influential intro- ductions, and at the outset, invitations poured upon her in abundance from fashionable and aristocratic circles ; but after a season or two, although public admiration continued and increased, private attention received a check. During the summer of 1847, she II appeared in Birmingham, Manchester, Liverpool, Edin- burgh, aud Glasgow. Negotiations were also at that time entered into with the Dublin manager ; but 2501. per night, secured, — the sum proposed for herself and troupe — was considered too hazardous. If any one had then prophesied that within twelve months after, l,r>()0/. nightly would be averaged in the last-named city to five performances of Jeniiy Lind, at an unprece- dented scale of prices, he would liave been pronounced ;in iiicurable lunatic. Such is the unfathomable lottery of all theatrical speculation. Notwithstanding the frozen climate of Russia, St. Petersburgh has invariably given a warm reception to foreign talent in every branch of art. Eachel was received in the northern capital with enthusiasm sur- passing that which had been lavished on the most attractive of her predecessors. She was applauded to the echo, feted, adulated, and returned home laden witli honours and riches, bending under the weight of roubles and diamonds. During her visit to Russia, the war broke out. Towards the conclusion of a grand dinner, to which she was invited as a parting compli- ment, some officers present, attached to the personal staff" of the Czar Nicholas, indulged in vaunting anticipations of the approaching trium, h of their master, and the certain humiliation of France and England. " To our speedy meeting again, Mademoiselle," exclaimed they, pledging the fair guest in bumpers ; " we shall soon 288 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES apj)laucl you ia Paris, and drink your health in the de- licious wines of France." " Gentlemen," replied Rachel, " I thank you for your good wishes, but France is not rich enough to treat her prisoners with champagne." Austria and Italy proved scarcely less remunerative to the all-enchanting daughter of Melpomene. Having, for the moment, exhausted Europe, she determined to glean America. Enormous sums were offered, as a cer- tainty, for two hundred performances in the United States; but Rachel rejected them, and farmed herself out, as she had done before, to her brother Raphael, who had now amassed capital enough to venture on a more gigantic experiment in the New "World, and entirely on his own responsibihty. He miscalculated, and paid dearly for his error. All the indigenous managers united in a dead set against tlie intruding foreigner. He would have done more wisely to have coalesced with Barnum, or some practised speculator " native, and to the manner born ; " success, then, might have been extorted by dexterous puffing. As it was, the whole matter eventuated in a signal commercial failure : a result for which the heroine was totally unprepared. Brother Jonathan bites rabidly at most of the baits that are held out to tempt him. Music, in any lan- guage, fascinates his reason and imagination ; but he is no pupil of Aristotle, has no faith in the unities, and is slow to appreciate Gallic filtrations of Sophocles and Euripides. Whether from chagrin at this single -defeat, or through the rapid inroads of organic disease which undermined her health, Rachel's performances were not resumed on her return to Europe. It was at Charleston that she played for the last time, and her concluding part was that o^ Adrienne Lecouvreur. Despite the loss of time in America, and the un- OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 289 ' jrealized thousands she had calculated on. Rachel was iijenerally reported to be deux fo'is millionaire ; a gran- diloquent phrase, which translated into prosaic English, means that she had amassed one hundred thousand pounds sterling ; — an almost incredible produce for less Jian fifteen years of labour. She bore the character A' being parsimoniously inclined, except where her own relations were concerned. Towards these she ever uractised the extreme of liberality. But her brothers md sisters in the profession, when engaged in her pro- vincial tours, complained that she paid them scantily, uid worked them to death. She herself was indefati- jable, and has often been known to act six times in the veek, travelling, on occasion, twenty leagues from place o place, and sleeping in her carriage. This predominating love of money has been urged as ui argument to show that she could not be endowed vith the esseiitial soul of genius. Avarice, according o those who reason thus, is incompatible with lofty ntellect. It is a sordid, humiliating passion, as all- ibsorbing as it is base ; which grovels on the earth in icarch of dross and vulgar treasure, while pure, etherial uind looks up to heaven, and loses itself in dreams of in mortality. All this sounds well in poetry, but fails n practical illustration. Meanness in some things Iocs not, of necessity, preclude elevation in others. The glorious philosophy of Bacon stooped to the con- aminating influence of corruption ; and this lamentable veakness has associated his name with a couplet of ^ope that will never die : — i " If parts allare thee,, think how Bacon shin' The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind.'' passius was taunted by his intimate friend and brother ith having " an itching palm;" the great Duke of VOL. IL U 290 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Marlborough was known to be a worshipper of gold ; and David Garrick bowed before his ingots, as to the household deities of his hearth. Yet the first was ne- vertheless a staunch patriot, the second an invincible general, and the third a pre-eminent actor. The great French actress never set herself up as an Aspasia in learning, or advanced pretensions to more education than she really possessed. Count Mole, complimenting her one day in a strain of exaggerated flattery, on her pure elocution, said, " Mademoiselle, you have saved the French language." " If so, it is by chance,'^ replied she, " for I have never been taught it." When the revolution of 1848 burst suddenly forth, and Louis Philippe, by his own mismanagement, suf- fered himself to be kicked from the throne he ought never to have occupied, Rachel became a red-hot patriot, in common with the infuriated million of Paris. Night after night she appeared, at the conclusion of the play, in a mixed military and Roman costume, and pealed forth the Marseillaise Hymn, with glowing re- publicanism, waving in her right hand the national standard. The novelty and the prevailing sentiment of the hour drew crowds to the strange exhibition ; but when liberty and fraternity went down once more under Ri the memorable coup d'etat of December, 1851, Rachel 'h veered round in her tactics, and subsided into a fervent jby Napoleonist. Talleyrand himself, who made and broke at least twenty oaths of allegiance, never trimmed his time- serving loyalty with more adroitness. And why should i. blame attach to either ? Dynastic and legislative io changes in France may be considered as certain as the ij periodical returns of a comet, and much more speedy in j^r rotation. No prudent citizen, therefore, should be con- ). deraued for swimming with a tide subject to so m;iny i variations. At the restoration of the Bourbons ia frt OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 291 1814 and 1815, the old soldiers of the Empire were compelled to mount tlie white emblem of the family; 3ut every man kept the tri-coloured cockade in his inapsack, waiting to depose the lily with a moment's lotice, on the first cry of " Vive I'Empereur." " Ready, lye ready/' is a good political motto, which admits of a i'ide application. In the theatre Rachel practised hauteur and reserve owards her associates, and seldom entered the green- oora. The ante-chamber of her dressing apartment, Sumptuously furnished, constituted her hall of audience. There between the acts, or at the close of her perform- mce, she received visitors in queenly state. Ministers md ambassadors were to be found amongst "ijer crowd »f worshippers. At home her exclusive study was to j)lease. Young, renowned, rich, handsome, with the world at er feet, she might have married Avhen and whom she leased ; but she adored the fame pertaining to her art 00 earnestly to surrender it up to domestic privacy ; — er spirit was too independent to endure the ties and Btters by which ordinary natures consent to be bound. It was currently said that Rachel had embraced the i, loman Catholic faith, and received the sacrament, a w days only before her death. This is contradicted y the fact that she was attended in her last moments y a Rabbi, and that her body being removed to Paris, fas publicly buried in the compartment of the cemetery f Pere la Chaise appropriated to her people, according the rites of Judaism. Her will, it was also said, nd the general disposition of her vast property, would e disputed by some who thought they had a more gitimate claim than the nominated legatees. When tie coffin that contained her mortal remains was low- red into the earth, the Rabbi repeated aloud in Hebrew 292 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES the prayer called Hashabe, and then another in French. Funeral orations were delivered by MM. Jules Janin, Bataille, and Maquet. M. Janin expressed his regret that the deceased was not eulogised by the only man com- petent to do so, but at present in exile, namely, Victor Hugo. The grave was then filled up, and the vast attending crowd returned to their daily avocations. OF CHAKLES KEAN, F.S.A. 293 CHAPTER XIV. •ROPOSAL FOR THE ESTABLISHMENT OF A DRAMATIC COLLEGE, OR ASYLUM FOR DECAYED ACTORS AND ACTRESSES — PUBLIC MEETING IN THE princess's TREATRE, MR. C. KEAN IN THE CHAIR— REPORT OF PRO- CEEDINGS READ BY MR. CULLENFORD — SPEECHES BY MR. C. KEAN, MR. DICKENS, MR. CRESWICK, MR. T. P. COOKE, MR. HARLEY, MR. B. WEBSTER, MR. ROBERT BELL, SIR G. ARMYTAGE, MR. F. MATTHEWS, AND SIR W. DE BATHE PUBLISHED REPORT FOR 1858, WITH AMOUNT OP SUB- SCRIPTIONS HER MAJESTY BECOMES PATRONESS— DIFFERENCE WITH MR. HENRY DODD, AND FINAL REJECTION OF HIS OFFER — DEATH OF JOHN PRITT HARLEY— SUMMARY OF HIS CAREER — CLOSE OF THE SEASON AT THE princess's MR. C. KEAN'S ADDRESS — GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. Dn Saturday, tlie 10th of July, 1858, a dramatic event )ccurred which it would be unpardonable not to record. VIr. Buckstone closed the Haymarket, after a season )f little less than five years, and 1,427 acting nights. Throughout that long period, the theatre had remained )pen without interruption, except on Sundays, during ;he Passion Weeks, and on a few other occasional even- ngs prohibited by the Lord Chamberlain. The instance s without precedent, and will in all probability stand ilone in future theatrical history. In the course of the current year, a movement )riginated which had long been wanting to erase a eproach from the profession of the stage, that while ;very trade and calling had its asylum or liouse of refuge ■or destitute or disabled members, the actors alone formed an apparently careless or selfish exception. The spring, when once set in motion, accelerated in pace and strength with corresponding alacrity. 204 TMK LIFE AND THEATIMfAL TIMES On Wednesday, the 21st of July, 1858, a public meeting was held at the Eoyal Princess's Theatre, Charles Kean, Esq., F.S.A., in the chair, for the above- named purpose. The \)h and gallery were thrown open to the public, and were crowded in every part ; the boxes and stalls were occupied by those Avho had applied for tickets before the day of meeting; and the stage was litted up for the use of the Provisional Committee and reporters for the press. A great number of ladies were present, and added much to the beauty of the scene by the deep interest they appeared to take in the pro- ceedings. On Mr. Kean's appearance on the stage, he received several rounds of applause ; and when he proceeded to the performance of his duties as chairman of the meeting, those cheers were repeated. At a few minutes past one o'clock, he addressed the meeting as follows : — "Ladies and Gentlemen, — The object of this meeting is to awaken public attention to a subject of very great interest to the members of the theatrical pro- fession, and, if possible, to excite your sympathies, and to enlist j^our co-operation, in providing an asylum for some of those who, having long administered to your amusement, seek rest and comfort in the evening of their lives, for the brief space allotted to them after years of ,^ toil and trouble, before the dark shadow descends upon m the dial of life. (Applause.) A kind and benevolent ^ gentleman, Mr. Henry Dodd, possessing landed property in Berkshire, has volunteered to give five freehold acres, for the purpose of building certain charitable houses for the reception of aged and worn-out brothers and sisters of the stage. In addition to the grant of land, I am permitted to state that this gentleman will also contri- bute one hundred guineas towards the erection of the OF CHARLES KEAN. F.S.A. 295 lOuses. (Applause.) Apsiireclly we imifjt all feel tliat in this instance wealth has been Lestowed (^n one who truly understands the value of the blessing which Heaven has Nouchsafed to him — to do good to his fellow-creatures, to supply the Avants of the indigent, and to open a tefuge for the aged and destitute. Under these circum- stances, it is a duty we owe to ourselves to strain every nerve to assist this noble undertaking ; and I cannot but feel that, as a professional body, we should be highly culpable were we in any degree to neglect carrying out such a disinterested intention. I will not detain you any longer for the present, b.ut will call upon Mr. Cullenford, our excellent and indefatigable secretary, to read the Report of the Provisional Committee, which will inform you of what has been done towards the establish- ment of this much-desired institution." (Cheers.) Mr. Cullenford read the Report, detailing the preli- iiinary arrangements that had taken place, the appoint- ment of a Provisional Committee, and the general -I'lieme of the proposed institution. Mr. Kean then said : " Ladies and Gentlemen, — The proceedings of this meeting having thus far advanced, it becomes my duty to address a few words to you in l)ehalf of the object we have in view. First, however, in the name of the Committee, allow me to thank you most sincerely for the honour you have conferred upon us by your presence here this day, and for the kind attention you have bestowed on the subject in question —a subject which, you are well aware, is of serious im- port to the profession of the stage, and one which, if successfully carried out, will be the means of com- forting many who, having passed the summer of their lives in your service, have nothing to cheer them, save through your help, during the barren and desolate 296 THE LIFE AND THEATKICAL TIMES winter which awaits the remnant of their days. (Applause.) It may appear strange that no charitable i institution of the kind now proposed has as yet been ; erected for the reception of aged and worn-out members I of tlie dramatic art. Almost every other occupation | of life can point to some such asylum for their decayed and broken associates ; but for the actor there is no roof as yet prepared to shelter his white hairs — no home to receive his shattered frame — no haven of repose towards which he can direct his tottering steps. (Applause.) 1 would not for one moment presume to advance as a claim that which, I am sure, will s[)ring from your own generous and benevolent im])ulses ; but perhaps I may be excused if, on such an occasion, as an actor myself, I derive some satisfaction in alluding to the obligations which England is under to actors. I do not refer to the long list of those distinguished performers whose great talents delighted your ancestors, and. some ot whose monuments now stand side by side with those of the most illustrious of our dead in the Abbey of West- minster ; — (hear, hear) — but I wish to remind you of two important national legacies that have been bequeathed by actors— the legacy of deed, and the legacy of mind. That noble institution for youth, and asylum for age, Dulwich College — (applauvse) — was erected and endoAved by the sole and unaided charity of one of the most honoiirable and respected men that ever drew the breath of life — Edward Alleyne, the actor ; — (great applause) — and what pride must we, as a professional body, feel that the brightest literature of our country, the works of the most comprehensive mind that ever shed lustre on our history, have been left to us by an actor — William Shakespeare. (Cheers.) Were it not for the stage, that mighty genius could not have found vent for the inspi- rations of his wondrous powers. That man, whose name OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 297 is the pride of England — that marvel of the world, whose fame is the envy of the foreigner, while he bows in homage at his shrine — that man was an actor ! (Applause.) The memory of these two celebrated persons alone should teach us all to reflect on the goodness and the greatness of which the stage is capable, and prompt the hearts of every English man and woman to encou- rage and cherish those who devote their lives to the development of an art which, when properly appreciated and properly protected, cannot fail to prove itself a source of national utility. (Loud applause.) Every human undertaking advances by progressive steps, and, in the words of our great poet, — ' We work by wit, and not hy witchcraft, And ^vit depends on dilatory time.' " We do not expect that this project is to spring up in a complete form as if by magic, like Aladdin's palace ; but what we ask this day is, that you will now sow the seed which hereafter may expand into a stately tree — that you will lay the foundation-stone upon which may rise a goodly edifice. Let us hope that this meeting- is but the beginning of the end, and that most of us now present may be spared to witness the prosperous results of this infant scheme, which under your auspices will grow into vigorous manhood. (Cheers.) Ladies and Gentlemen, throughout the varymg series of dramatic representations provided for your amusement, from the lofty inspirations of Shakespeare to the lighter effusions of mirthful fancy, you see the members of each estab- lishment who are endeavouring to aftbrd you recreation from the more serious duties and trials of life — who are engaged for the time being possibly in relieving yom- minds from care and anxiety — you see them in the apparent enjoyment of health and strength. The vital 298 THE LfFE ATCD THEATRICAL TIMES Impark burns strongly and brightly ; but ' look upon this picture and on this ! ' Witness them in years to come, when health is broken and strength prostrated — infirm and aged — ill and in want — helpless and afflicted — no rest, no comfort, no joy, as they close their earthly scene; and then let the small, still voice within whisper — ' To these I am indebted for years and years of service, in some instances perhaps for nearly half a century. They cry for help, and shall I deny them sympathy and assistance?' (Prolonged applause.) No; in the true spirit of Christianity, you will do unto others as you would they should do unto you. (Applause.) Let it be remembered that in our country the actor has no reliance but on the public. His only hope is in the hearts of his audience. Unlike the continental nations of Europe, the theatre here receives no annual subsidy, no pecuniary allowance fi-om the Crown, the Govern- ment, or the municipal authorities. The actor's only recompense is your approval, his only pension your voluntary gift. (Hear, hear.) To the public he must look for support, and the British public never did and never will refuse to do that which is just and liberal in return for lives exhausted in their service. (Applause.) There are hundreds of us, who, through the mercy of Providence, may never need this aid ; and yet who can foresee the changes and vicissitudes that await us ? But we plead for our poorer brethren, for those less fortunate and less strong, who by your bounty may thus be enabled to look forward in old age to some prop on which they may lean with security, relieved from that mental disquietude which is ever engendered by the dread of privation and poverty. Through yom* help they will find a home for mind and body, where they may enjoy in peace the pleasing retrospect of former days, and prepare in tranquil resignation for the great OF rFAT?I.ES KEAN, F.f^.A. 299 and solemn cliange tliat awaits us all. (Applause.) You Avill not, I am sure, allow your feelings to evaporate in useless sensibility, tut you will stretch forth to them the open hand of charity. To those less endowed with means, I would say, do not hesitate because your gift be trifling ; great or small, as the widow's mite was acceptable, so will be your contribution. (Hear, hear.) The act blesses the giver and the receiver. The hour will come when we shall have to account for those gifts which Providence has lent to us on earth. At that solemn moment may the recording angel open the page wherein is written that you have comforted and relieved the aged and the destitute; that you have rewarded to the best of your ability the servants who have toiled for you ; that you have vindicated one of the divine qualities which adorn the human heart — the quality of charity. (Applause.) May you unanimously respond to this appeal, and set an example here this day, which will be followed by thousands, and wdiich only requires the moving impulse to arrive at a full and happy com- pletion. Let us all bear in mind the beautiful and touch- ing words of the Psalmist, ' Blessed is he that consi- dereth the poor and needy, the Lord shall deliver him in the time of trouble, and shall comfort him when he lieth sick upon his bed.' I will not further encroach upon your time and patience ; I fear I have already too long detained you— ('No, no,' and applause)— but I hope you will pardon the enthusiasm of one who feels i deeply the cause he is endeavouring to plead. (Applause.) Before I resume my seat, allow me to state that, in addition to the benevolent donor's intentions, and the manner in which the Drury Lane and Coven t Garden theatrical funds are disposed to assist this undertaking — (great applause) — I have this morning received a letter from Mr. Buckstone, the treasurer of the General 30^ THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Theatrical Fund, who is unavoidably detained in the country, to the effect that his fund is anxious to imitate the example of its elder sisters. If this arrangement, therefore, be carried out, we shall commence with three of the houses at once ; and allow me to take the oppor- tunity of saying, that it will afford me very sincere pleasure to hold myself responsible for the building of a fourth." (Cheers and waving of hats and handkerchiefs.) Mr. Charles Dickens : " Ladies and Gentlemen, — I think I may ventm-e to congratulate you beforehand on the pleasant circumstance that the movers and seconders of the resolutions which will be submitted to you will probably have very little to say. Through the Report which you have heard read, and through the comprehen- sive address of the Chairman, the cause which brings us together has been so very clearly stated to you, that it can stand in need of very little, if of any, further expo- sition. But, as I have the honour to move the ^st resolution which this handsome gift, and the vigorous action that must be taken upon it, necessitate, I think 1 shall only give expression to what is uppermost in the general mind here, if I venture to remark that, many as the parts are in which Mr. Kean has distinguished him- self on these boards, he has never appeared in one in which the large spirit of an artist, the feeling of a man, and the grace of a gentleman — (hear, hear) — have been more admirably blended than in his this day's faithful adherence to the calling of which he is a prosperous ornament, and in this day's manly advocacy of its cause. (Cheers.) Ladies and Gentlemen, the resolution en- trusted to me is — " ' That the Eeport of the Provisional Committee be adopted, and that this meeting joyfully accepts, and gratefully acknowledges, the gift of five acres of land referred to in the said Report.' (•F CHARLK>; KEAN. F.S.A. 301 " It is manifest, I take it. that we are all aj^reed upon this acceptance and acknowledgment, and tliat we all know veiy well that this generous gift c<\n inspire but one sentiment in the breast of all lovers of the dramatic art. As it is far too often forgotten by those who are indebted to it for many a restorative flight out of this working-day world, that the silks, and velvets,and elegant costumes of its professors must be every night ex- changed for the hideous coats and waistcoats of the present day, in which we have now the honour and the misfortune of appearing before you ; — (cheers and laugh- ter) — so, when we do meet with a nature so considerately generous as this donor's, and do find an interest in the real life and struggles of the people who have delighted it, so very spontaneous and so very liberal, we have nothing to do but to accept and to admire : we have no duty left but to ' take the goods the gods provide us,' and to make the best and the most of them. Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me to remark, that in this mode of turning a good gift to the highest account, lies the truest gratitude. In reference to this, I could not but reflect, whilst ^Ir. Kean was speaking, that in an hour or two from this time the spot upon which we are now assembled will be transformed into the scene of a crafty and a cruel bond. Immense cheering, which lasted for seme time.) I knew that, a few hours hence, the grand canal of Venice will flow, with picturesque fidelity, on the very spot on which I now stand dryshod, and that 'the quality of mercy' will be beautifully stated to the Venetian Council by a learned young doctor from Padua ;— on these very boards on which we now enlarge upon the quality of charity and sympathy. Knowing this, it came into ray mind to consider how different the real bond of to-day fi-om the ideal bond of tonight. Now, all generosity, all forbearance, all for- 302 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES getf'ulness of little jealousies and unworthy divisions, all united action for the general good. Then, all selfish- ness, all malignity, all cruelty, all revenge, and all evil^ — now all good. Then, a bond to be broken within the compass of a few, — three or four, — swiftly passing hours, —now, a bond to be valid and of good effect generations hence. (Great cheering.) Ladies and Gentlemen, of the execution and delivery of this bond, between this generous gentleman on the one hand, and the united members of a too often and too long disunited art upon the other, be you the witnesses. Do you attest of every- thing that is liberal and free in spirit, that it is ' so nomi- nated in the bond ; ' and of everything that is grudghig, self-seeking, unjust, or unfair, that it is by no sophistry ever to be found there. I beg to move the resolution which I have already had the plcasm-e of reading." (Loud and continued cheering.) The resolution, which Mr. W. Creswick seconded, was can-ied unanimously. Mr. T. P. Cooke, seconded by Mr. Harlem . proposed : — " That Charles Kean, Benjamin Webster, Charlo Dickens, and W. 3L Thackeray, Esqs., be elected Trustees of the said College." Mr. Benjamin Webster : " Previously, Ladies and Gentlemen, to proposing the third resolution, I am appointed to thank you for your approval of the foui names submitted to you as trustees of this proposed — ] think I may say carried — Institution ; and to assure you that the endeavours of those trustees will be used to carry the object to its utmost extent. I wish that for your advantage one of those named who is absent from us, Mr. Thackeray, had been here to thank you instead OF ciiAULES ki:a\, f.s.a. 303 of myself, but circumstances have occurred whicii pre- vent |liis desired appearance here to-day. I know il will be your loss, and not my gain, for I lack the power of speech of that gifted gentleman. But I will yield in earnestness of purpose, and earnestness of hope for a brighter future'ibr this profession, to no man, be he high or low. (Applause.) I feel it a great honour to hold the post of Trustee to this College, and so, I am sure, do my companions in that office. I thank you in their names, and in^ my- own ; and the more responsibility you give to that office by your liberality, the more you increase ] the^ honour you have conferred upon us. J have now to propose to you the third resolution, wliich is in these words : — " ' Tliat a subscription be entered into for the pur- pose of carrying out the gift of the donor and the in- tention of the Provisional Committee, and of forwarding the benevolent object for which we are assembled.' " After the eloquent speeches which have been ad- dressed to you, which so ably defined the end and object of our assembling here, a few words from me will suffice. I am egotistical enough to believe that many here know my humble efforts to obtain a few crumbs for the poor player from the very rich table of Dulwich College (' Hear, hear,' and cheers) ; but though all I prayed for was most cheerfully granted by the four parishes having the right to its benefit under Alleyne's will, more was thought of building a church — though one existed there sufficient, as it was proved, for all the requirements of the parish — endowing it with 300Z. a year out of the earnings of the profane stage-player, and placing it in the gift of the Archbishop of Canterbury, than conceding a paltry 100?. out of nearly a million and a quarter of wealth, to four worn-out actors and actresses, and edu- . . • ... eating eight of tlieir children ; and this, too, in the face 304 THE LTFE AND THEATETCAL TIMES of the fact that Alleyne originally commenced the Col- lege for actors and their families. I trust that the result has given birth in some degree to this laudable donation. When I looked around upon the numerous colleges, institutions, and hospitals for young and old, specially devoted to certain trades and professions, I did feel that there was an exception to my class, but your presence here to-day proves such an exception to have been un- deserved. (Loud cheers.) It has been the constant pur- pose of my life to see an institution similar to Dulwich College for the care-worn members of our much- neglected and umch-abused profession, having practically known many of the ti'ials and many of the vicissitudes and necessities of an actor! s life. I may be allowed to state. Ladies and Gentlemen, that in my long experience as manager, actor, and a man of the world, I have known no class who, from the highest to the lowest employe in the establishment, give more bountifully to the unfor- tunate brother than the actor. Now if, indeed, charity be a cloak, let it cover the many errors that ignorance and fanaticism unjustly heap upon our calling. Thank Heaven, there are hundreds, thousands, nay millions, who do and will stand by us, even to the highest in the realm, as the following admirably written letter, in answer to a request that her ]\lajesty would become our Patroness, will amply prove : — " ' Osborne, July 16th, 1858. "( what is understood by the terms, a dry, laborioua, invd-working actor. Such men literally drag out ittinition, and earn their fame and money by throes I IK I painful earnestness ; but they rarely cause tUe pulse >f the spectator to quicken, or his thoughts to lose for 1 time all consciousness of the outward cares of life. Harley was one of the last representatives and disciples if a genuine style, which younger aspirants would do wisely to study, before the few survivors of the generation lave entirely passed away. The reception with which our 4(1 friend was invariably greeted, must have convinced iiiiii in the most conclusive manner that ancient favorites ne- not forgotten because fresher candidates may happen ''Mi) THE LIFE AND THEATKU'AL TIMES to be ill the tield, and that in spite of the railway speeil of modern improvement, the old school could stand by the new and lose no ground. The name of llarley was identified with an exten- sive range of parts which no one could touch like him- self. They form a numerous family, and were looked upon as his personal property. We know not to whom he could have bequeathed them, or who can claim legi- timate succession as heir at law, now that a reversion has occurred. On Friday, the 20th of August, he acted Launcelot Gohho with unusual spirit, and in reply to one or two observations as to how well he seemed, answered that he never felt better. Of the numerous audience on that night assembled at the Princess's Theatre, not one who enjoyed the grotesque activity with which he skipped across the bridge when dismisf^ed hjlSIv/hd; imagined that they looked and laughed for the last time, and that the fiat had gone forth destined so rapidly to close his earthly career. As he reached the wing he was seized with paralysis of the left side, and with as- sistance reached the green-room where he was laid on the sofa. Medical aid being immediately provided, the case was pronounced imminent, and as soon as possible he was conveyed to his own house in Gower-street, his sister and only surviving ' relative (since dead) being previously apprised by Mr. Ellis, the stage manager, that an accident had happened to him. In a few hoius he lost recollection, sank gradually, and expired, ap- ])arently without suffering or effort, on the afternoon of Sunday, the 22nd August. The last coherent words he uttered were a quotation from the " Midsummer Night's Dream," " I have an exposition of sleep come upon me." It is not to be supposed that he thereby indicated any consciousness of his approaching end. It was merely the utterance of a familiar passage with regard to his OF CIIARI,K8 KKAN, F.S.A. 311 immediate senscation of drowsines^s. Something simihtr uccurred when John Wesley was dangerously ill and supposed to be at the point of death in Ireland, and whose mind could scarcely be expected to be imbued with tlie imagery of Shakespeare. Observing tlie countenance of a lady who sat by his side endeavouring to conceal her emotion under assumed tranquillity, he looked towards her and said, " She sits like Patience on I'SL monument, smiling at Grief." |{ Different statements have appeared as to Harley's age. We have reason to believe, on good authority, that had he lived to reach another birthday he would have completed seventy-three. He had also long been ac- counted one of the rich men of the stage, but this, to the surprise of all, was found to be erroneous. Except his furniture and personal effects he had no realized property. Yet he had received large sums, was not known to indulge in extravagant propensities, or to have suffered by speculation. At one time he had a very considerable investment in the funds. How did he dis- pose of his superfluity ? This is a mystery not likely to be unravelled. Great mistakes are often made as to the savings of actors, which are not unfrequently esti- mated at more than they have ever received. Harley's life must have been happy beyond the ordinary lot. He was respected and liked by all who knew him. He had a merry heart, an equal temper, and an interminable fund of anecdote, enjoying society, and contributing his full share in lively conversation. He had never en- cumbered himself with the cares of a family, remaining unmarried throughout a long and successful professional career, in which he encountered but a small share of the ordinary rubs and disappointments. It seems rather a remarkable coincidence that only a few weeks before, his friend and comrade Bartley died at nearly the same HVI THE LIFE AND TllEATKICAL TIMES age and from a similar attack. Bartley, however, laboured under a heart complaint, so that his sudden demise might have been more readily looked for. But when men have reached and passed the term named by the Psalmist, and may be supposed to be ready for the great change, it matters little Avhether a learned disease with a hard name, the sudden rupture of a vital chord, or mere exhausted nature, is the proximate cause of their departure. The long and brilliant season at the Princess's Theatre terminated on the evening of tlie 3rd of September, when the " Merchant of Venice " was presented to a crowded house with undiminished effect, and for the seventy-second time without intermission. Had not a short interval of rest been ai)solutely necessary, this beautiful play would, in all probability, have run on to the full completion of one hundred nights, — the ordinary term of a Princess's Shakespearean revival. When the curtain fell on the last scene, Mr. and Mrs. C. Kean were unanimously summoned to receive a parting compliment, after which ^Ir. C Kean came forward alone, and took his temporary leave of the audience in the following short but em- phatic speech : — " Ladies and Gentlemen, — At the close of each succes- sive season it has ever been my custom to address a few words to you in thankfulness for your kind support. The present year, from various circumstances, in part unavoidable, and in part unexpected, has been to me a period of great responsibility, anxiety, and fatigue ; relieved, however, by evidences and expressions of public feeling and sympathy, the memory of which can only fade with life. Contrary to my original intention, I feel compelled, from the mental and bodily strain I have undergone, to seek a few weeks of comparative repose, OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 313 tlmt I may be the better able to bring to a successful termination' my next and last season. '' Permit me, therefore, to take this opportunity of announcing my intention to re- open this house on Saturday, the 2d of October; and at the same time to state that, on the 29th of August next, I sliall take my final leave as director of the Princess's Theatre. In the meantime. Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me, in Mrs. Kean's name, as well as my own, respectfully and grate- fully to bid you farewell." The season, we have said, was brilliant ; so it was in exertion and apparent effect. We wish we could add, successful, in a pecuniary sense. But to this it was diametrically opposed, the loss exceeding 4,000?. A casual observer and occasional visitor who sees a crowded house, considers one sample an index of the whole, but he knows nothing of the enormous outlay and nightly expense, which too often exceed the aggregate returns. The local causes of deficiency, in the present instance, may be chiefly traced to the American failures, which paralyzed the commercial world, to an Italian Opera at fheap prices, through the entire winter, and to the " Festival Performances," which drained the purses of the theatrical constituency, and abstracted large sums from their legitimate i-ecipients. In the course of the eleven months' duration of the expired season, nineteen dififerent pieces were played, of which four only were new; the pantomime and three farces. Out of two hundred and sixty-nine acting nights, there were only forty-two not devoted to Shake- speare. Eveiy human discovery and improvement, all that advances philosophy, science, literature, or mechanical invention, is doomed to undergo the three successive 314 THE LIFE AND THEATKICAL TIMES phases of opposition, ridicule, and adoption. Mr. C. Kean has pre-eminently illustrated this fact in the pro- gress of his professional life. His claims, long and obstinately contested, are at length universally admitted. His restorations of Shakespeare are received as the most truthful homage ever rendered to the greatest genius that England or the world has produced. His fertile mind and extensive scholarship have called into life effects never before imagined ; whilst his versatile em- bodiments of so many great characters in the Shake- spearean range have identified him, as an actor, with the Garricks, Hendersons, and Kembles of bygone ages, and more especially with his own father, who, in two or three leading elements, excelled them all. It is too often the lot of living merit — and the condi- tion is a hard one — to be treated with injustice ; to be undervalued until a gap, not easily filled, impresses the importance of a public loss, and the difficulty of filling up a vacancy. Then follow the selfish regret and un- availing penitence which mourn the absence of a pos- session, the full value of which is only ascertained wh(;n lost beyond recovery ; extorted tears to consecrate the ashes of the dead, instead of the spontaneous tribute which ought to soothe and adorn the presence of the living ; a posthumous instalment on a just debt, which, however flattering to his heirs, is paid too late to gratify the silent creditor. There are such things, too, as personal enmities, neither forgotten nor foregone until they can be no longer indulged. More fortunate than many who seek the temple of fame, Mr. C. Kean has not had to wait for this tardy acknowledgment. His merits and services as a public teacher are freely conceded, and he enjoys the universal respect which attaches to un- blemished private character and rare professional excellence. 1 OF CIIAELES KEAN, F.S.A. 315 Tliroughout the season of 1857-1858, Mr. Kean's name was seldom absent from the bills. Night aftei- night he delighted the public with such varied perform- ances as Prosper o, Ricliard II., Hamlet, Louis XI, Mephistopheles, King Lear, and Shyloch. It is seldom that a great actor and manager, when he has won the double reputation, the acknowledged supremacy, for which he hits so perseveringly toiled, continues to im- pose on himself the physical labour, which, if carried too far, would break down the strongest constitution. Gar- rick and John Kemble, for many years before their retirement, acted only twice or thrice a week, ai particular portions of the season. They reposed on their laurels ; but they remembered also that — " Time hath a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts ahus for obhvion ; A great siz'd monster of ingratitudes : And to have done, is to hang Quite out of ftishion, Hke a rusty mail, In monumental mockery." They therefore took care to present themselves now and then on select occasions, to keep curiosity alive, to pre- vent its being entirely attracted towards others, and to watch their own fame, lest it should tarnish by disuse. But Mr. C. Kean during his period of management never allowed himself an intermitting relief. He re- sembled a sentinel continually at his post, and worked with as much untiring perseverance as in the days of his early novitiate when slowly climbing up the steps of the ladder. Such constant exertion could only be sustained by that inborn enthusiasm which is ever the accompaniment of true genius. It is a fact which in- cludes a flattering compliment, while at the same time it imposes a harassing condition, that although sup- ported by an excellent working company, few plays 316 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES were found to be attractive at the Princess's Theatre, unless the names of Mr. and Mrs. C. Kean were in- cluded in the cast. Here is at once a conclusive argu- ment in reply to the diminishing but still pertinacious section of cavillers, who are ready with an objection for everything, and have so long endeavoured to maintain that accessorial embellishment has injured genuine art, and that the most important figures in the painting are obscured by the gorgeousness of the suiTOunding frame- work. Take away such representatives of Shakespeare's heroes and heroines as ]\[r. and Mrs. C. Kean, and there prejudiced Zoili would soon have it rendered palpable to them, that the upholsterer and property man (those favourite figures for a sneer), the scene-painter and mechanist, are incompetent to touch the hearts of an audience, or to vindicate the superiority of our matchless mover of the passions. When the intricate machinery of a watch is brought into harmony by mechanical skill, it is the mainspring alone that can set the whole in action ; break tliat, and all the rest becomes torpid and in- effective. It is precisely thus with the blended elements of a represented play. The scenery, the costumes, the architecture, tlie arrangement of incidental gi-oups, the evolutions of well-trained supernumei-aries, the most accurate historical reflection of bygone ages and man- ners, — all these adjuncts may be called into use, and restored as perfectly as classical taste and antiquarian knowledge can reproduce them : but still, the life-like reality, the animating cliarm, the mainspring in fact, lies exclusively within the faculty of acting. Let the performers who are set down for the great parts, fall below the corresponding level which the genius of tlie poet demands, and it has ever been seen that they become indistinctly confused with the figures in the background, and the entire picture fades into vapid OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 317 mediocrity. Without acting of a very high order, no extent of pictorial embellishment could command one hundred successive repetitions of a Shakespearean drama. It is only by a well-balanced union of forces that the eftect is produced. Divide these forces, and weakness supersedes power. " The hairs in a horse's tail," says Dr. Donne, in a quaint comparison, " concur in a single root of beauty and strength ; but being separated and plucked out one by one, they lose all value, and serve for little better than springes and 318 THE LTFE AND THEATRKAL TIMES CHAPTEK XV. jrR. c. kean's fakewell season as manager of tht? princess's THEATRE MERCHANT OP VENICE CONTINUED — SECOND REVIVAL OF KING JOHN— DITTO OP MACBETH— PRODUCTION OF MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING MR. AND MRS. C. KEAN AS BENEDICK AND BEATRICE FARCE OF THIRTY-THREE NEXT BIRTHDAY PANTOMIME OF THE KING OF THE CASTLE— JEALOUS WIFE— CORSICAN BROTHERS— MIDSUMMER NIGHT's DREAM— LOUIS THE ELEVENTH- HAMLET. A SHORT recess of four weeks passed rapidly over, and on Saturday, tlie 2nd of October, 1858, Mr. C. Kean opened his last campaign as manager of the Princess's Theatre, with the seventy-third representa- tion of the " Merchant of Venice," preceded by the farce of " Dying for Love." Once more the curtain rose on the Queen of the Adriatic in all her reanimated glory. The enthusiastic welcome with which Mr. and Mrs. Kean were greeted on their appearance, told empha- tically the feeling of the public, and spoke, in a combined voice, of estimation and anticipated regret. Two changes had taken place in the cast of the play. Nerissa was now acted, and very agreeably, by Miss Bufton, a young lady of considerable promise and personal attrac- tions, who improves rapidly with experience. Mr. Saker succeeded the lamented Harley, as Launceht Gohho, and deserves his full meed of praise for a careful study of a part, difficult under such peculiar circum- stances. To give as much variety as possible to his concluding season, Mr. Kean determined to repeat, in quick succes- sion, a series of his principal Shakesperean revivals. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 319 Accordingly, in a fortnight, the "Merchant of Venice," on the 17th of October, gave place to " King John," which had not been represented since 1852. Nothing could be more complete than the change. From the banks of the Brenta and the sunny skies of Italy, — from the gay frolics of the carnival, and the stately, medifeval magnificence of the "dogeless" city, — Mr. Kean, by a single wave of his managerial wand, carried us into other regions and more distant times ; recalling our thoughts to fix them on a remarkable though not glorious period of domestic history. We were now in the stormy era of the Plantagenets, and found ourselves treading the baronial halls and palaces of Norman Eng- land, or listening to the war-blast on the old battle-fields of Anjou and Kent. We have three plays on the subject of King John. The first, anonymous, earlier than Shakespeare's (in 1591), and which by some speculators has been attri- buted to ]\Iarlowe. An action for libel would almost lie on the insinuation. Here Shakespeare found the plot, characters, and incidents. These he freely used ; but the nervous language, the glowing thoughts, the power, the pathos, and the passion, are all his own, and could not have emanated from any other source. There is not a single spark of either in the poor and vulgar original. In 1745, old Colley Gibber, fired with the mania of improving Shakespeare, inflicted on the town a pernicious imitation, entitled, " Papal Tyranny in the reign of King John." On this memorable occasion, the ancient laureate, who had lost his teeth, returned to the stage, and mumbled through Cardinal Pandulph ; but the aflair died a natural death, and its failure had this advantage, that, since then, no sacrilegious invader has ventured to substitute his cramhe repetita for the genuine text of Shakespeare. During the last hundred 320 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES years, "■ King John" has been repeatedly brought forward under successive and rival dynasties, but with mistakes and shortcomings to the last; until, Mr. C. Kean, in 1852, inaugurated his new system with a more perfect revival than had yet been presented by the most highly- gifted of his predecessors. As now re-produced, the play had the advantage of his own intermediate expe- rience, with the high finish of those powers of acting which have grown by progressive steps to their complete development. Although far from the best in Shakespeare's historical series, " King John " has characters of startling power, and passages of poetic beauty, equal to any that he has written elsewhere. When he selected this subject, we have often wondered that he did not ascend a little higher in time, and choose the popular and stirring epoch which immediately preceded, — the reign of the lion-hearted Richard. Here was a monarch more in accordance with English notions of regal heroism ; and his death by the hand of the archer Bertrand de Gourdon, at the siege of the Castle of Chakiz, with his dying mercy to the man by whom he was pre- maturely cut off, although not carried out after his decease, would have supplied a catastrophe more drama- tically striking, and less repulsive than the expiring agonies of his miserable brother. The moral in either case is nearly the same — the transient nature of earthly gi'andeur, and the emptiness of all human ambition. The foreign policy of John was timid and inglorious ; the domestic troubles of his reign invariably resulted from his own overweening tyranny. Shakespeare has entirely passed over all allusion to the gi-eat national Charter, which the English barons wrmig from their cowardly but despotic master. He may have done this from delicacy towards the absolutists of his own OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. * 321 and James, who were also his personal patrons ; but at all events he moulded to his own pur- poses the other incidents in the reign of King John with the scenic arrangement of the old play, scattering about in rich profusion his own harmonious verse, his vigorous passion, and his boundless amplification of mind and feeling. He has engrafted no new cliarac- ters, but he has gloriously heightened the rough sketches he found in a barren soil. We cannot, revel in reminiscences which stir an Englishman's blood, and lilli|) his pride, when our thoughts revert to this dark period of our national annals. But it must not be denied, and may be profitably studied and remembered. Truly refreshing it is to find the living reality evoked on the boards of the Princess's Theatre, in the form of the most agreeable intellectual lesson, and with all the stately adjuncts by which instruction can be seasoned and recommended. It is not easy to estimate Mr. C. Kean's performance of the regal felon of the line of Anjou by any fixed analysis, or comparative standard of excellence. Again, he presented us with a complete and unique portrait, which we can trace to no particular family, or antecedent class. The English monarch is to the full as wicked and remorseless as Louis the Eleventh ; but our thoughts never revert to the one while witnessing the same evil passions depicted in the mind and person of the other. John is a compound of every contemptible and loath- some attribute, either as man or monarch ; ambitious and cruel to the last extreme ; not absolutely a coward in the field, but a moral poltroon in the conduct of life ; helpless and abject in adversity ; covetous, overbearing, and impolitic when fortune smiles on him : a strange blending of opposite qualities, which nevertheless often meet, exhibiting fool and knave in alternating propor- VOL. II. Y 322 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES tions. During his whole existence, as brought before us by Shakespeare, Ave find nothing to admire, and as lie expires under the racking agonies of poison, while we pay our just tribute to the power of his dramatic representative, we feel relieved by the departure of the man. The pervading gloom of the play is felicitously relieved by the humorous, dare-devil gallantry of Fal- conbridge, who vindicates his royal blood, and becomes even dignified as his responsibility increases. But the softening charm lies with Constance and Arthur. For- tune dealt hardly with them. Holinshed relates that Arthur was imprisoned at Rouen, when he was supposed to be murdered, as some said, by his uncle's own hand. He was an adult youth and not a child, as Shakespeare has represented him. This is certainly an important deviation from fact, but by this poetic licence the bard has invested his supplications to Hubert with the sim- plicity of infantine innocence, and has given us one of the most affecting scenes he ever imagined. Again, the veritable Lady Constance of history demands our respect and sympathy with less compelling influence than the wronged widow and bereaved parent, so pow- erfully transferred to the dramatic canvas. Maternal anguish and despair have never been so naturally con- ceived, or so pathetically expressed, as in the Constance of Shakespeare. Enthusiasts in classic lore may turn to the Clytemnestra, Hecuba., and Andromache of Euripides,— but they will seek in vain for those heart- rending exclamations, those overwhelming touches of nature, which lacerate the hearts of the audience, until they find relief in tears. Her apostrophe to death, beginning, " amiable, lovely death,'' in her last scene, is superior to that fine invocation of the chorus in the ■' Supplicants" of ^Eschylus, to the same power. There OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 323 is notliing in the French imitators of the ancients, in the most vaunted passages of Corneille or Racine, to be taken into comparison, Voltaire affected to ridicule Shakespeare, and tried to make his countrymen follow his example The French themselves look upon their cold declamatory tragedies as perfect in construc- tion and dialogue. English taste judges them by a standard very distinct from the scholastics of Aristotle. Accustomed to the uncontrolled flights of Shakespeare, we set little value on unities and classical restrictions. We acknowledge readily the transcendent powers of a Rachel and a Talma, while we wish they had better materials to work with, and varieties of character to delineate more in accordance with the ordinary sympa- thies and feelings of humanity. Such a noble part as Constance requires a great repre- sentative, and on looking down the annals of the stage, we find the names of Mrs. Gibber, Mrs. Yates, Mrs. Siddons, and Miss O'Neill, successively identified with the widow of Geoffrey. Mrs. C. Kean has put forth a proud claim to be associated with this honoured list, and the claim will be unanimously conceded. Her per- formance is truly wonderful, — by far the finest female portraiture on the living stage, and by many degrees her own chef-cTceuvre. How different from the playful elegance of Portia, and yet how thoroughly and intensely Shakesperean ! It is worth going a hundred miles to see, and will be required to be seen again and again before its beauties can be felt or understood as they deserve. Young actresses would do well to study this accomplished mistress of her art, while they have yet an opportunity, for such a model is not likely to be supplied to them again. Next to Constance and King John., Falconhridge, Hubert, and Young Arthur, stand prominently forward o24 THE LIFE AND TIIEATPvICAL TIMES ns Ciicaracters of importance. All three were well ])ers3nated by ]\lr. Walter Lacy, Mr. Ryder, and Miss Ellen Terry, who succeeded her elder sister. Every part was in the hands of an adequate performer. The entire cast Lore evidence of the completeness of the Princess's company, so soon destined to be dispersed, and never again united under the same banner. Macheth was revived on Monday, the 1 st of Novem- ber, and performed alternately with "King John" for some weeks. Five years had elapsed since its first produc- tion by Mr. Kean, but nearly all the principal characters were still in the same hands, the changes being chiefly amongst the rank and file. A quarter of a century hence, when the events of to-day will be included in the records of the past, the generation of the then present hour may possibly esti- mate at a truer value than we do now, the results of Mr. C. Kean's eight years, of what may be exclusively called Shakespearean management, at the Princess's theatre. Time, the universal purifier, can alone decide the question, as to how far national taste, refinement, education, and manners, may have derived a permanent and a beneficial impulse from a source hitherto under- valued, or entirely passed over in the philosophical speculations and practical theories of teachers, preachers, and orators of every class; always on the alert to enlighten and advance the world, but not invariably happy in the means recommended to promote the desired end. We do not believe It possible that any thinking per- son should see such a dramatic exhibition as " Macbeth," at the Princess's theatre, without an impression that* there must be sometliing in this beyond "a show," and. that the delightful recreation thus imparted, is not a fiction of the hour, to make the labourer forget his OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 325 toil, the student relax his overwroughr nbstraction, or the constitutionally indolent rouse up his torpid facul- ties ; hut that it combines a profound moral, and has in it an instructive power, which elevates thought and feeling, and tends to make man happier as Avell as better. Some will smile, deriding this as mere cntliusiasm, and it may be that it is so ; but without enthusiasm the world would be but a weary road to travel on, and many would faint under their appointed trial. Shakespeare has taken his materials for " Macbetli " from Holinshed. The subject is wxll adapted to a dra- matic poet's purpose It has all that his form of com- position requires — situations and characters powerfidly contrasted, events rising in interest, each growing out of the other and leading up to the catastrophe. The intermingling of supernatural agency was never so appropriate. The weak point in Macbeth'' s character is superstition, and on that weakness he gi-adually falls into tlie fathomless abyss of crime. Read the chronicle, and what can be more bald and meagre than the manner in which the events are related. They contain the argu- ment and outline of a dramatic poem, but no colouring. See the play, and who does not feel the sublimity of thought, the harrowing intensity, the redundant images, the practical reflections, the majestic poetry, once heard never to be forgotten, which the genius of Shakespeare has called into life, and consigned to his lawful heirs, the actors, to perpetuate by their executive skill. To find anything to compare with " Macbeth/' we must go back to jEschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides. There we may find glimmerings of kindred inspiration, but we shall seek in vain for them nearer our own times. Let us descend from Greece to Eome, in her best days of poetic pretension. Is there any spark of Shakespeare's muse in the dull, laboured tragedies of Seneca, or who- 326 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES ever may have written them in his name? None, that we could ever discover. What is there of similar genius in the crude metaphysics of Schiller? Not a scintilla- tion. What in the Frenchified classicality of Corneille ? In spite of our respect for M. Guizot's critical acumen, we look upon the attempt to set up a parallel between the father of the French stage and the father of ours as literary profanation almost demanding criminal pioceedings. It is futile to endeavour to silence us, as Voltaire tried to do a century ago, by charges of violations of the unities, breaches of decorum, sins of anachronism, the coarseness of here and there a conven- tional phrase, or the carelessness of rapid composition. In answer to all these pop-gun batteries, Ave oppose the unapproachable beauties of the poetry, the profound philosophy and moral, the majestic scope of the inven- tion, which imagined new worlds when old ones were exhausted, and distanced time himself in the race for immortality. In fine, we say, show us a poem or a play equal to " Macbeth," taken in all its components and bearings, in the collected literature of the world. When Mr. C. Kean enters as Macbeth, he gives the key-note of the character before he has spoken a dozen lines. He prepares us for the description which his wife subsequently gives of him : — " Thou woiUdst be great ; Art not without ambition ; but witliout The illness should attend it. What thoTi wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily ; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win." After his interview with the witches he never loses the bewildered look of a man whose mind has been shaken by a supernatural encounter, and a congenial prophecy. He still has energy and manliness of soul. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 327 but he has lost confidence in himself, and is no longer sure of anything. The agitation of his mind resem- bles the rolling of the sea in a storm. He fights and struggles yet, but he is under a fatal influence, — the prediction of the witches, and the stinging excitements of his wife. His nature is good, but he yields to the double attack. He is brave but superstitious ; differing entirely from Richard the Third, who is naturally callous and void of conscience. Macheth subsides into crime ; and though we abhor his deeds, we think and feel he had that within him which ought to have shaped a better course. His despairing energy in the fifth act clothes his fall with something approaching to dignity. Such is Shakespeare's " IMacbeth," as reflected by Mr. C. Kean. Some of his predecessors have been wonderfully great in insulated scenes ; but, as an entire pei'formance, sound judges place his above them all. We have seen many Macbeths, and the peculiarities of each come back upon us with the freshness of an event of yesterday. Of those who flourished in the ages of our fathers and grandfathers, the records are so ample and minute, that we are as familiar with them as if they also had fallen within our personal observation. Mr. C. Kean, it is true, has the advantage of scenic accompaniments, pictorial accuracy, and historical cos- tume, which impart a reality to the action, very im])er- fectly sought for in earlier days. But let the merit of this rest with himself, for the idea and application are as much his own as the effect is un]n-ecedented. Lady Macbeth is associated with her partner through- out the play. The image and presence of the wife cannot be separated from her help-mate. The chronicle gives but a few lines indicative of her disposition. She is called the stimulatress of her husband to his first deed of blood, — " a woman very ambitious, burning ^^28 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES with an unquenchable desh-e to bear the name of ' queen.' " This slight groundwork is wrought up by Shakespeare into a character of such dramatic power, so repulsive, but irresistibly imposing, that it throws into the shade the finest relics of the Greek tragedians, those vaunted masters and models of the grand and terrific. Compared to Lady Macbeth, CJytemnestra or Medea are angels of peace and gentleness. Yet there is no part on the stage that can win more applause by the commanding strength of her mind and the vigour of her language. But for her remorse in the end, darkly hinted through the incoherent murmurings of her sleep, we should be tempted to reject her as an alien to the human family. It is Shakespeare and not history that has irradiated this dark heroine with the single flash of humanity, by which the unmingled savageness of her heart is brightened. She would have slain the uncon- scious Duncan herself, when she stole into his chamber, and laid the daggers ready for her husband's use. With the swiftness of lightning the infernal suggestion flashed across her mind, but nature spoke for once ; — " he resembled her father as he slept," and her murderous hand became paralysed. In some of the Memoirs of Mrs. Siddons, or in her jjublished correspondence, we have read that her notion of Lady MachetKs personal appearance depicted her as a woman of small stature, with light hair, complexion, and eyes. This is startling. Such physical attributes were very different to those of the Queen of Tragedy herself, and quite opposed to what wx should associate with the being designated by Dr. Johnson, in unvar- nished terms, as " an ogress." Mrs. C. Kean has proved herself the legitimate suc- cessor of Mrs. Siddons, in Lady Macbeth, as in Con- stance. Botli [lerformances are so true to iht author's OF CIIAIJLES KEAN, F.S.A. 329 meaning, while so distinct from each other, that it is impossible to say which is best. The scenes of " Macbeth " would fall flat, nay, they would almost be unintelligible, without the supj.ort of a lady quite up to the mark of the talent required for her husband. When Madame Ristori was here, her Lady Macbeth, not much run after by the public, found inordinate favour with more than one professed critic. We bow to the gallantry which eulogized a handsome woman, a foreigner, and an accomplished artist ; but to compare her Lady Macbeth to that of our own representative was as unnecessary as it was absurd. The superiority of the latter is glaringly manifested throughout, and pre- emhiently in the banquet and sleeping scenes. The sufferings of that midnight walk, as represented by Mrs. C. Kean, almost atone for the blood with which she has deluged the play. Madame Eistori, it must be admitted, had the disadvantage of a Macbeth, as comic as Eobson in the burlesque, but without an atom of his extraordinary power. On Saturday the 19th of November, the performances at the Princess's were varied by the production of " Much Ado about Nothing; " perhaps the most complete comedy ever dashed off by the rich fecundity of Shakespeare's genius. It is a coruscation of brilliancy, teeming with genuine wit, effective situations, and contrasted characters, forming a most delightful relief to the two stately tra- gedies with which it w^as flanked on either side. The play comprises a double plot, most ingeniously contrived and disentangled. Yet some captious objectors find fault with the conspiracy against Hero, as clumsy and improbable. If such hypercriticism is to stand good, it will break down all that successive ages have considered excellent in dramatic composition ; and if the imaginative attributes of the drama are to be judged by, and reduced 330 THE LIFE AXD THEATRIOAL TIMES to matter of fact rules, we may banish at once, fancy, invention, and poetic licence. Besides which, daily ex- perience impresses the conviction that the incidents of real life are often more inconsistent and improbable than the wildest fictions of romance. But whatever may be the merits or defects of the episodial plot of '' Much Ado about Nothing," the atten- tion and interest of the spectators are almost exclusively engrossed by Benedick and Beatrice. They form the charm and cynosure of the play. We think of little else, from their first tilting match in the opening scene, until they are finally tricked into " a mountain of mutual affection." These lively combatants are the most ex- quisite of companions, delicious sweeteners of life's varie- gated feast, however a doubt may arise as to their being the most promising and happily matched of married couples. They are the pure and beautiful emanations of Shakespeare's creative mind. He first conceived and gave a miniature of them as the Biron and Rosaline of " Love's Labour's Lost." Li the present comedy they are expanded into full portraits, and launched on a new sphere of action adopted by the great master for his immediate purpose. It is seldom that Shakespeare takes the trouble to invent his incidents. He usually draws from history or earlier fiction, amplifying and adorning at pleasure the restricted and not unfrequently common- place materials supplied from current sources. The plot on the two self-styled marriage haters is most happily conceived ; and as they are as similar in disposition as the difference of sex allows, repeating the same mode of deception on each is natural and consistent. Mr. and Mrs. C. Kean were seen to great advantage as Benedick and Beatrice. The parts are well selected to afford such opportunities of playing up to each other, which associated feelings alone understand, and nothing UMlV£r^^' » ^ OF CHARLES KWfi?7Trf.A. d,3l but constant practice can exercise witli the high finish of art. Beneclich has ever been a favourite with audience and actors. Garrick, as we are told in his memoirs, absohitely revelled in his delineation of this gallant humorist. Henderson, who followed him, was thought by good judges to tread closely on the heels of his pre- decessor, although when he rehearsed this very part before the great manager, the latter discouraged him by saying, " Young man, you must get the worsted out of your throat before you can expect to be an actor." Lewis had all the breadth and vivacity required, but he wanted aplomb, and marred the general effect by being some- what flippant and fidgetty. Elliston, in his best days, was considered an excellent representative, and Charles Kemble's impersonation commanded universal praise, Mr. C. Kean's may fairly be included in the same list. When witnessing his soldierlike and graceful bearing, with the easy, unlaboured humour by which, with a single glance of the eye, a turn of expression in the features, or a cliange of intonation in the voice, he excites the audience to a unanimous burst of laughter or ap- plause, we can scarcely identify the same individual whom, a night or two before, we have listened to and looked upon as the sanguinary Macbeth, the gloomy JoJin, tlie crafty tyrant Louis, or the frenzied octogenarian Lear. The versatile powers of the actor, as thus dis- played, are truly marvellous. In personal, as in mental attributes, nothing can be more contrasted than these solemn, soul-appalling protagonists, and the accomplished soldier, scholar, and man of fashion, the joyous Benedick, the type of all that we conceive of elegant and fascinat- ing in what Lord Byron aptly termed "gentleman's comedy." Mr. Kean's first step on the stage bespoke his full conception of the character. His early scenes gradually worked up the spectators and himself as his 332 THK LIFE AND THEATRir.VL TIMES humour progressed. There was no occasional flag or pause, no sinking to rise again after a dull interval. It was all buoyancy and flashes of light, each following closely on the other with increasing brightness. We may select for especial praise, and as indexes to the subsequent scenes, the two celebrated soliloquies in the second act, in the garden, wliere tlie supposed love of Beatrice is conveyed to his astonished mind by his acci- dental and unseen presence at the planned conversation of his friends. We must add to these his fervid exit with a detei-mination to requite such unlooked for aff'ec- tion as it deserved. No acting, in the genuine vein of the comic muse, could exceed this, which drew down universal plaudits. In the challenge to Claudio, Benedick loses for the moment all his constitutional light -heartedness. He is transferred into a deeply serious man, in one of the most painful of situations, peremptorily but reluctantly imposed on him by duty and love. Mr. C. Kean, in this finely discriminated passage of the part, is perfectly at home. He plays the scene with marked feeling and delicacy. Charles Young, in general a noble actor, quite mistook it. He preserved even here a comic expression wiiich destroyed the eftect, and would have thrown Shakespeare into a cold perspi- ration, could he have witnessed the strange perversion of his meaning in conscious presence. Beatrice, in dramatic value, stands on a par with Benedick. She yields him no jot of precedence or supe- riority. Happy in the possession of an amiable, warm- hearted temperament, and unaflected spirits, she returns him aiTow for arrow in the combat of words. Her gaiety is artless, natural and unforced. The essence of her mind is wit, which, like Benedick, she directs against love and matrimony. But extremes often meet, and thus these jarring elements are brought to blend into OF CHARLES KEAX, F.S.A. 333 liarmonious and mutual subjection. Mrs. C. Kean thoroughly comprehends every nice shade and feature of this masterly portrait. She presents it in all the glowing life imagined by the author, but without ex- aggeration or over-colouring. With all her elevated position in society, and its associations of manner and habit, her warm sympathies and cultivated tastes, some Shakespearean investigators, seeing through a small microscope, have discovered in Beatrice a tendency to self- will, a strength of purpose, which augur inauspicously for her connubial life in prosjjectu, and may darken it with an occasional cloud. Tliey affect to tremble for Benedick, " the married man," and turn their thoughts with some apprehension to the "predestinate scratched face" he so earnestly deprecates. We confess that we never could take this view, and Mrs. C Kean has confirmed our opposite conviction to our infinite delight. Shrewish wives are not gifted with the good breeding and good temper of her Beatrice. We feel truly grateful to this accomplished mistress of her art for vindicating, by her accurate and refined perception, the true intent of Shakespeare ; and for allowing no infusion of selfish- ness, no wayward humour to blemish or weaken the moral grace and beauty of one of his most captivating heroines. Little was said in the bill, and less in the printed version of the play, of the new effects so lavishly intro- duced in the stage-arrangements and scenery, which lost nothing in comparison with the recent splendour of the " Merchant of Venice." The opening view, the har- bour of Messina, was quite a pictorial gem. The gra- dual illumination of the lighthouse and various mansions, in almost every window, the moon slowly rising and throwing her silver light upon the deep blue waters of the Mediterranean, were managed with imposing reality. 334 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Then followed tlie masquerade, with its variegated lamps, bridge, gardens, and lake, seen through the arches of the palace. The general acting left nothing to be desired. Mr. F. Matthews added much to his repu- tation by his impersonation of Dogherry. He was quaint, original, and overflowing witli stolid, good-humoured importance, reminding the audience of W. Farren in his best days. Mr. Meadows has long been identified with Verges ; a sketch of senile imbecility acquiring in his hands the prominence of a finished picture. In our more important notice of the Shakespearean revival, we must not omit the mention of a new farce produced on Monday the 21st of November, called " Thirty-Three next Birthday," adapted from or founded on a French original, but arranged in its English dress by Mr. J. M. Morton. The substance of this amusing })relude may be compressed into a few words. Miss Havoc, a single lady, on the verge of thirty-three, is determined to get married, and thinking she can more readily obtain admirers as the young wife of an old gentleman, than as a somewhat mature spinster, per- suades an easy-tempered, obliging uncle, Major Havoc, to assume the character of sposo, and accom})any her in that guise to a Welch watering-place. There she speedily wins the hearts of two speculating swains, Mr. Benson and Mr. CacMeherry, one young, and the other middle-aged. After much equivoque and sundry explosions of passion, the lady accepts the elder lover, Mr. CaclxJelierry, the solicitor, and so the piece concludes. The leading parts were extremely well acted by Miss Murray, Mr. Cooper, and Mr. F. Matthews. The latter, in particular, contributed much to the success. The usual pantomime was produced at Christmas, but this year from the pen of IMr. Forester (Alfred CroAT- quill). It proved to be one of the best and most attrac- OF CHAIiLES KEAN, F.S.A. 385 tive that had been produced for years. The subject was entirely invented by the author, the title being " The King of the Castle ; or, Harlequin Prince Diamond and the Princess Brighteyes." In the introduction, tlie elegance and interest of a fairy tale were combined witli a fair proportion of broad burlesque, but without trench- ing on the more legitimate buffooneries of the Clovjn and Pantaloon. The surviving elders of the old school, the contemporaries of Grimaldi, father and son, consider the genius of pantomime as dead, buried, and forgotten ; not considering that taste in this, as in other more im- portant matters, has undergone a complete revolution since their school-boy days, when they revelled in the glories of " Mother Goose and the Golden Egg,'' and that what pleased fifty years ago might be looked upon as coarse, if not unintelligible, by the living generation. It certainly requires more classical knowledge and a higher endowment of intellectual faculty to write a first- rate tragedy or comedy than to compound a good opening to a pantomime ; nevertheless, the latter is a task of great ingenuity, seeing how thoroughly the materials have been ransacked and exhausted. A new idea descends like a ray of light, and an original trick or transforma- tion is as rare as a coin of Otho or Pescennius Niger. The comic scenes of " The King of the Castle '' in- vented and arranged by Mr. Ellis, stage-manager, and Mr. Cormack, ballet-master, contained some good hits at the passing follies of the day, in which crinoline came in for a conspicuous share. Here again the living pantomimist labours under difficulties unknown to his grandfather. There are few salient eccentricities in modern manners to afford subject for illustration or caricature. The world may be wiser than it was, but it has grown more selfish and calculating, and people have 336 THE LIFE AXD THEATRICAL TIMES no longer time to indulge in absurdities, whicli lead to no increase of worldly store. Formerly, no one could sit in a coffee-room for half an hour, or walk up St. James's-Street without meeting character in some decided shape, either developed by dress, bearing, or con- A'ersation. Now, we are all alike ; ever in a hurry, on the one high road of utilitarianism, thinking, travelling and sleeping at railway speed. All this may tend to make people rich, and sharpen their wordly intellects, but it fmniishes no materials for a comic pantomime. Let us, therefore, not criticise too closely, but be thankful to those who still find means to supply us with a fe"^' hearty laughs from the old familiar source. During the run of the pantomime, the old comedy of the "Jealous Wife" was revived. This, with "Louis the Eleventh," and the " Corsican Brothers," alternated the performances, with the Shakespearean plays of " The Merchant of Venice," " A Midsummer Night's Dream," " Macbetli," " Much Ado about Nothing," and " Ham- let;" forming a rich variety, which produced unceasing attraction. " Hamlet " was performed eleven times to crowded houses. " Age cannot wither " this noble play, " nor custom stale its infinite variety." Let the principal character be well acted, and the attraction never fails. To master the representation of the Danish prince requires the study of a life. John Kemble, speaking from long experience, said so, when on the eve of retire- ment. The Germans assume, and many English admirers of German criticism and literature have admited the claim, that they possess a more correct and thorough appreciation of Shakespeare than we ourselves acknow- ledge or feel. In support of this assertion they appeal to the elaborate disquisitions on Hamlet in " Wilhehn OF CHARLKS KKAN, F.S.A. ''.o7 Meister's Apprenticeship," as containing tlie trnest ana- lysis of the play, and the principal character, which luis yet been given to the world. We rebel utterly against this dictum. Shakespeare was neither a metaphysician nor a transcendentalist.* He was simply an inspired pupil of nature, who wrote as he thought and felt, Avith unstrained, obvious meaning, and drew his pictures from men as they are, and not from the ideal exaggerations which dogmatic, and frequently miscalled philosophy creates in a morbid mood, and tries to render intelligible by ingenious sophistries. An English auditor in tlie theatre, and a student in the closet, look upon "Hamlet" less as a poetical illusion than as an actual acquaintance and associate — a familiar being in actual existence. They understand him without perplexing commentary, and when they see him moving before them in living identity, under the person and attributes of a great actor and a faithful reflector of the poet's genius, such as Mr. Charles Kean, they hail tlie illustration with delight, and a perfect comprehension of what is intended to be conveyed to their understandings, more intense and distinct than any impression they could derive from poring over the labored essays of Goethe and Ulrici. On Friday, January 28th, 1859, another veteranactor, Charles Farley, the father of the stage, departed this life. Having attained the ripe age of eighty-seven, he outlivetl all his theatrical contemporaries. Entering the theatrical world in his tenth year, he saw the rise and progress of all the Kerables, Cooke, Yoang, Edmund Kean, * No— nor a materialist, nor a freethinker, nor a denier of revelation and a disbeliever in providence and futurity ; although Mr W. J. linxli, A.M. of New Inn Hall, Oxon, has laboured hard to prove him all these, in a work published in 1847, entitled " An Inquiiy into the Philosophy and Religion of Shakespere." This is not the place to show the fallacy of his arguments, which lie broadly open to refutation. VOL. II. Z 338 THE LrFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES ^Macreafly, and Cliarles Kean. His peculiar talent lay in the superintendance of pantomimes and melo-dramas. He was also tlie author of several pieces of the latter class. Both in his public and private capacity, he Avas mucli esteemed, and his long dramatic experience sup- plied his conversation with an endless fund of anec- dotes. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 389 CHAPTER XVI. PRESENTATION OF A TESTIMONIAL TO MR. KEAN FROM THE COMMITTEE OF THE DRAMATIC COLLEGE MR. AND MRS. C. KEAN's ANNUAL BENEFIT IN 1859 LAST SHAKESPEAREAN REVIVAL — KING HENRY THE FIFTH — ORIGINAI^ EFFECTS — STORMING OF HARFLEUR — BATTLE OP AGINCOURT — INTRODUCED EPISODE OF ACTION TAKEN FROM HISTORICAL AUTHORI- TIES—MRS. C. KEAN AS THE CHORUS ; MR. C. KEAN AS KING HENRY UNPRECEDENTED ATTRACTION OF THE PLAY —DELINEATION OF NATIONAL CHARACTER — FLUELLEN IDENTIFIED WITH DAVID GaM — CORRESPONDENCE — NEW COMEDIETTA, IF THE CAP FITS. — HENRY THE EIGHTH— BANQUET AND TESTIMONIAL PROPOSED BY THE ETONIANS — NOTICES IN THE PAPERS — CONGBATULATORV LETTERS. On Monday, Februaiy the 21st, a deputation, con- sisting of Sir William De Bathe, Bart. ; Sir George Armytage, Bart. ; Mr. Benjamin Webster, the chairman of the provisional committee of the Dramatic College ; and Messrs. Creswick, Jerwood, and CuUenford, waited upon Mr. Charles Kean, at his private residence, in Upper Hyde Park Street, for the purpose of presenting him with the following testimonial : — " In acknowledg- ment of the great obligation of the Royal Dramatic College, to Charles Kean, Esq., F.S.A., for services rendered by him as chairman of the public meeting held in the Royal Princess's Theatre, on the 21st of July, 1858; for his liberality in undertaking to provide one of the dwellings for the reception of aged and infirm actors and actresses ; for his admirable zeal in otherwise pro- moting the interests of the College ; and to record the personal regard and sincere wishes of the Provisional Committee for his future welfare." This testimonial was elegantly inscribed upon vellum by Mr. Moring, of z 2 340 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES Holborn. Mr. Webster, in presenting it, spoke in high praise of the great zeal with which Mr. Kean had exerted himself on behalf of the college, and which the latter gentleman responded to in suitable terms. On Monday, the 28th of March, Mr. and M\s. C. Kean announced their annual benefit and last Shake- spearean revival, the play selected being " Henry the Fiith." The usual fly-leaf affixed to the bills concluded with the following passage : — " As the term of my management is now drawing to a close, I may, perhaps, be permitted, in a few words, to express my thanks for the support and encouragement I have received. While endeavouring, to the best of my ability and judgment, to uphold the interests of the drama in its most exalted form, I may conscientiously assert, that I have been animated by no selfish or com- mercial spirit. An enthusiast in the art to which my life has been devoted, I have always entertained a deeply rooted conviction, that the plan I have pursued for many seasons, might, in due time, under fostering care, render the stage productive of much benefit to society at large. Impressed with a belief that the genius of Shakespeare soars above all rivalry ; that he is the most marvellous writer the world has ever known ; and that his works contain stores of wisdom, intellectual and moral, I cannot but hope that one who has toiled for so many years, in adrairing sincerity, to spread abroad amongst the multitude these invaluable gems, may, at least, be considered as an honest labourer, adding his mite to the great cause of civilization and educational progress. " After nine years of unremitting exertions as actor and director, the constant strain of mind and body warns me to retreat from a combined duty which I find OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 341 beyond my strength, and in the exercise of which neither zeal, nor devotion, nor consequent success, can continue to beguile me into a belief that the end will compensate for the many attendant troubles and anxieties. It would have been impossible, on my part, to gratify my wishes in the illustration of Shakespeare, had not my previous career as an actor placed me in a position of comparative independence with regard to speculative disappointment. Wonderful as have been the yearly receipts, yet the vast suras expended, — sums, 1 have every reason to believe, not to be paralleled in any theatre of the same capability throughout the world, — make it advisable that I should now retire from the self-imposed responsibility of management, involving such a perilous outlay ; and the more especially, as a building so restricted in size as the Princess's, renders any adequate returns utterly hopeless. " My earnest aim has been to promote the well-being of my profession ; and if, in any degree, I have attained so desirable an object, I trust I may not be deemed presumptuous in cherishing the belief, that my arduous struggle has won for me the honourable reward of — public approval." No play could have been more appropriately timed for the particular occasion on which it was brought forward, than " Henry the Fifth,"— the only historical drama in the English series, excepting the second part of " Henry the Fourth," as yet unrepresented at the Princess's. The great grandson of Edward the Third was the most popular monarch that ever swayed the sceptre of England in by-gone days. His short reign may be looked back on with unmingled satisfaction, as an epoch of glory, accomi)anied only by the one regret that he should have been so prematurely cut off. How 342 THE LIFE AND TlIEATUlC'AL TIMES ditferently would English history have been written, had Henrj, with his cliief princes and nobles been slain, or made captive, as the chances were twenty to one against them that they would, on the memorable field of Agiricourt. And again, had he not been suddenly removed in the full bloom of his fame and manhood, leaving the throne to an infant heir, in all human pro- bability, the devastating quarrels of York and Lancas- ter would never ha^-e filled our annals with their san- guinary details. The records of that warlike age, the campaigns in France, make the hearts of Englishmen swell ; and are well recalled at a time when a restless neighbour, armed to the teeth, is evidently in search of an antagonist, anywhere, on any pretext ; and when con- stant alarms warn us to be on our guard, and prepared in case of unprovoked attack. The remembrance of {)ast heroism is a wholesome spur to national pride, a sound guarantee for the future. " Henry the Fifth" contains no female part of im- portance. The play is full of bustle and animation, of variety and excitement ; but, the interest turns on war and politics, almost to the entire exclusion of domestic feelings and relations. Here was an objection at once, but for the happy thought of individualizing the Chorus as the ^luse of History, and of thus securing the exalted talent of Mrs. C. Kean, for the delivery of some of the most impressive poetry of description that Shakespeare ever penned. In other plays, the " Winter's Tale," and " Pericles," for instances, Shakespeare has specifi- cally named Time, and the old poet Gower, as the representatives of this explanatory introduction to each act. In Garrick's day, for some unknown reason, he declined the part of " King Harry," but considered the Chorus worthy of his elocutionary powers. He spoke the speeches as Mr. Garrick, arrayed in the costume of OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 34'> the day, a Ml dress court suit, with powdered bag wig, ruffles and sword. When " Henry the Fifth " was Last revived at Covent Garden, in 1839, we had the symbo- lical " Chorus," under the guise of an aged man, with the traditionary appurtenances. By the present substi- tution, as gracefully described in the preface, " an oppor- tunity is afforded to Mrs. C. Kean, which tlie subject docs not otherwise supply, of appearing in this, the con- cluding revival of her husband's management." In the early editions of the play, this Chorus is simply called a prologue ; and a prologue in effect it is, describing and connecting the quick succession of events, the rapid changes of locality; and elucidating passages which might otherwise appear confused or incongruous. But, chorus, or prologue, or interpreter, or by whatever name the mystical creation is to be designated, never until now has its importance been so thoroughly felt and understood. In the person of Mrs. C. Kean it forms the presiding charm, the key-note, if we may use the term, of the entire play. Her appearance, action, and utterance, present a combined picture of classic grace, and poetical inspiration. She might have stood to any sculptor, ancient or modern, for a statue of the Clio she so magnificently impersonates. It was expected, and with good reason, that Mr. Kean would light on a play (as yet unrepresented) for his last great effort, that might enable him not only to concentrate all the resources of his judgment and experience, but affording at the same time a field for new effects and untried experiments. He had given festivals, masquerades, processions, and dances, ancient and modern ; mythological tableaux and super- natural appearances, unimagined and unattempted by the most gifted of his predecessors. He had also dealt largely with the " pomp and circumstance of 344 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES war," in " j\Iacbetli," "King John," and "Kicliard the Third." " Henry the Fifth," in addition to a great conflict crowned by a .splendid victory, includes a siege, and the storming of a beleaguered fortress. Mr. Kean seized the novelty with the strong grasp of an original mind, and transferred to his small stage a representation of the most terrible of military feats in a manner that no description can even faintly convey an idea of, and which required to be seen again and again before all its wonders could be understood or appreciated. The assault on Harfleur, which opens the third act ; the desperate re- sistance of the French garrison ; the close conflict on the ramparts ; the practice of the rude artillery of the day, with the advance of other besieging engines ; and the final entry of the victorious assailants through the breach, — formed altogether the most marvellous realiza- tion of war, in its deadliest phase, that imitative art has ever attempted. The marvel is increased by the small- ness of the space within which such numbers of men and so much complicated machinery are marshalled, together with the organization of the entire scene. Every supernumerary acted with the intelligence of a trained artist, and every movement appeared as natural as if dictated to each separate individual by the impulse of the moment. Making due allowance for the scale of action, the difference of weapons, equipments, and the absence of defensive armour, — the storming of the breach at Harfleur, as transferred to the boards of the Princess's Theatre, vividly embodied the carrying of the Malakoff, as we have heard it described, and flgure it in our imaginatiouj from pictures and recitals. From Harfleur, the action of the play carries us rapidly on to Agincourt, the Waterloo of the middle ages ; a field which decided for a time the long rivalry between France and England, and entirely to the OF CHARLES KEAX, F.S.A. :M5 advantage of tlie latter. Shakespeare in his glowing- scenes has followed the incidents of this great cam- paign as he found them described in the Chronicles of Holinshed, adorning them with the magic of his own genius. Mr. C. Kean has invested Shake- speare with the living identity he intended to represent, and may have dreamed of as his thoughts looked on- wards to futurity, but which in the infancy of stage resources, and with an uneducated public, he never could have hoped to witness in his own days. The third and fourth acts comjDrise the most inter- esting portion of the play. Again our wonder is called forth by the skill with which the English army is manoeuvi-ed and brought into battle, and by the extent of the masses employed. The march rom their own ground of encampment to the attack on the French host ; — the firm tread and demeanour of men resolved to con- quer or die, roused from momentary despondency, and almost maddened by the inspiring address of their king and leader, so gallantly delivered by Mr. Kean ; — the general excitement and stirring reality, so unlike stage deception, and so closely embodying truth; — all these animated delusions bewilder the faculties of sight and hearing, and enforce on the spectators a conviction that they are looking on the very men who fought and won that glorious field. We are carried back to the actual time and place, until we feel as if really participating in, and present at the events thus surprisingly repro- duced in the theatric microcosm, so faithfully reflecting the world of four hundred and forty years anterior to that of the day in which we live and move. When King Henry returned to his own capital crowned with the laurels of Agincourt, the citizens of London prepared for him a reception which, in splen- dour and imposing pomp, cast into shadow the Pagan 346 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES triumphs of the Eoman Ctesars, while it far exceeded them in heart-felt gratulation. Ever beloved by his people, Henry was now their idol. Shakespeare speaks of this pageant through the mouth of the Chorus, but, of necessity passes over the scene. Mr. Kean has intro- duced it in an episode of action, carefully following the account of an eye-witness, whose MS. has been pre- served, and is referred to in the preface to the printed edition of the play as now acted. The locality is sup- posed to be old London Bridge, from the Surrey side of the river. The success of a somewhat similar episode in "Richard the Second," undoubtedly suggested the idea, but the mode in wdiich the later introduction is carried out, is totally difierent, and far more elaborate, as well as superior in the interest of the situation and the character of the incidents. In " Richard the Second," we had the entry of a successful usuii:ier, clouded by the presence of his deposed and lawful monarch. In " Henry the Fifth " we have the triumph of a popular sovereign, unmingled with painful associations. The arrangement of this scene may be quoted as another wonderful instance of the fertility of Mr. Kean's mind, and of the unremitting research he bestows on the im- mediate subject of his illustration. The action ends here, with the exception of the betrothal of King Henry to the Princess Katharine, in the cathedral of Troyes, which winds up the whole in graceful repose. The play occupied nearly four hours. No prelude or afterpiece w-as acted with it at first, but the attention of the audience never wearied for a moment ; they were manifestly so absorbed in the one subject, that the introduction of any other would have been an inter- ruption and not a relief. There are no fewer than thirty-seven speaking cha- racters in " Henry the Fifth/' but they are all of OF CHARLES KEAN, F.8.A. 347 minor importance, the acting strength being ahnost exclusively concentrated in the King, who is seldom absent from the scene. It is not easy to decide as to what section of the drama this amiable and popular hero belongs. He has a vein of comic humour which reminds us of the constitutional pleasantry of Prince Hal, restrained and chastened by the dignity and responsibility of his royal duties. The part does not embrace the madness of Lear, the conscience-stricken agony of Macbeth, the frenzied jealousy of Othello, or the profoundly meditative philosophy of Hamlet; but it requires, nevertheless, an actor of gTeat and varied power to supply an adequate representative. All the great tragedians of the day, from John Kemble to Charles Kean, have included it in their cast, although with very unequal success. It requires the versatility denied to some, but in which om- present representative so eminently excels. The power and martial bearing of the character lie principally in the third and fourth acts. The reflections on sovereign power, and its hard conditions, suggested to Henry by his midnight walk through the camp on the eve of Agincourt, were delivered by Mr. Kean with deeply impressive feeling. This soliloquy, and his supplication to the " God of battles," are contrasted in a masterly style with the fiery, unstudied energy of his harangue before he leads his army to the charge. The thorough comprehension of the different points in Shakespeare's delineation of his own especial hero, were also marked with great care by Mr. Kean in the frankness of his manner when con- versing with Fluellen ; in his dialogue with the soldiers, Williams and Bates / and in the military freedom and gallantry of his courtship in the last scene. Such a dramatic treat as Mr. Kean's revived " Henry the Fifth," has never before been offered to the public, and 348 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES will stand alone in all future histories of the English stage. We may say, without exaggeration, that all London flocked to see it, and all England crowded to London for the same purpose. When the curtain fell on the last right of its performance, every one felt that it would never rise again on a Shakespearean exhibi- tion of similar excellence. The entire outlay exceeded 30001. The bill for the rehearsals of the supernumeraries alone, amounted to 160?., including their refreshments. Mr. Kean was so well satisfied with their attention to his instructions, and the intelligence they exhibited in catching the spirit of the scenes when explained to them, that he doubled the pay of all on the first night, and distributed above one hundred pounds more in specific gratuities. In the first act of " Henry the Fifth," Shakespeare gives a farewell reminiscence of Falstaff, in the descrip- tion of his death, by Mrs. Quickly. Of his followers. Pistol retains some degree of prominence, but Nym and Bardolph are mere cyphers, and the latter is hanged for sacrilege. A subject so popular as " Henry the Fifth," has occupied pens of far inferior in.spira- tion to that of Shakespeare. Neither the date nor the author of the anonymous drama which preceded his, have been ascertained. A reprint of it is to be found in a collection of six plays, edited by Nichols, and published in 1779. The two volumes occasionally occur in a sale catalogue, and are curious to the Shakespearean collec- tor. In 1664, another " Henry the Fifth," by the Earl of Orrerey, was acted at the Duke of York's Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields. Downes (Roscius Angli- canus) says it was excellently performed, and acted ten days in succession. It is written in rhyme, and has not the least resemblance to Shakespeare's, except in the historical portion. Owen Tudor and the King are OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 849 represented as sworn friends, and are both in love with the Princess Katharine. The love scenes are absurd to the last degree. The characters were most splendidly attired, particularly King Henry, Owen Tudor, and the Duhe of Burgundy, who wore the coronation suits of King Charles IL, the Duke of York, and the Earl of Oxford. The actors who performed them were Harris, Betterton, and Smith. It was said to have been in the part of Otven Tudor that Betterton laid the foundation of the great celebrity he afterwards acquired. In 1723, Aaron Hill produced an alteration of " Henry the Fifth," which was acted at Drury Lane f 'r four nights. Many of the incidents, and much of the language, are borrowed from Shakespeare ; but a second plot is introduced by the addition of a new female character, Harriet, as she is called, a niece of Lord Scroope, who has been formerly seduced by tlie King. She appears in men's clothes throughout, and is made the means of discovering the conspiracy against Henry. Mr. Hill, with a liberality or enthusiasm little known or practised by authors of more recent days, presented the managers of the theatre with sets of scenes for this drama, which cost him 2001. Shakespeare, in the comic relief of his play, has aimed at national dialects as understood in his age. He has given us a Welshman, Fluellen ; an Irishman, Macmorris ; a Scotchman, Jamy ; and a Frenchman, Monsieur le Fer. With the exception of the former ihey have always been omitted, and we may say with- out detriment, in the acting versions. FhteUen is well conceived, and an amusing introduction. In Jones's "History of Brecknockshire," we find the following- passage, tending to connect this imaginary personage with the historical David Gam. who so gallantly sacri- ficed himself at Agincourt to save his king. 350 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES " In consequence of an affray in the High Street of Brecknock, in which David (Gam) unfortunately killed his kinsman, Ritsiart fa'\\a- o'r Slwch, he was compelled to fly into England ; and, to avoid a threatened prosecu- tion for the murder, attached himself to the Lancastrian party, to whose interest he ever after most faitli- fully adhered. There can he little doubt that Shake- speare in his burlesque character of Fhiellen, intended David Gam ; though for obvious reasons, as liis descen- dants were then well known and respected in tlie English court, he chose to disguise the name. I have called Fluellen a burlesque character, because his ' pribbles and prabbles ' sound ludicrously to an English as well as to a Welsh ear. Yet, after all, Llewellyn is a brave soldier, and an honest fellow ; he is admitted into a considerable degree of intimacy with the king, and stands high in his good opinion, which is strong- presumptive proof, notwithstanding Sliakespeare. the better to conceal his object, describes the death of Sir David Gam, yet that he intended David Llewellyn by this portrait of the testy Welchman ; for there was no other person of that country in the English army who could have been supposed to have been on such terms of familiarity with the king. It must also be observed that Llewellyn was the name by which he was known in the army, and not Gam, or Squinting, by which epithet, though it was afterwards assumed by his family, he would probably have knocked down any man who dared to address him. By his behaviour on this memor- able day, he, in some measure, made amends for a life of violence and rapine, and raised his posterity to riches and respect. But, alas ! how weak, how idle is family pride, how unstable worldly wealth ! x\t different periods, between the years 1550, and 1700, I have found these descendants of this hero of Agincourt (who OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 351 lived like a wolf and died like a lion), in possession of every acre of ground in the county of Brecon ; at the commencement of the eighteenth century, 1 find one of them the common bellman of the town of Brecknock ; and before the conclusion, two others supported by the inhabitants of the parish where they resided, and even the name of Games, in the legitimate line, extinct." A small section of the clergy still continue, from time to time, on the old ground of exploded fallacies, the worn-out topic of abuse, to preach against the stage. As usual, the advocates of the theatre reply, and a hot controversy ensues, in which temper and argument are frequently lost together, with more of scandal than profit to either side. A more conclusive answer may be found in the number of divines, who, throughout Mr. Kean's management, might be seen, at all the Shakespearean revivals, in the stalls and boxes of the Princess's Theatre. During the run of " Henry the Fifth," the following letter was addressed to him by the incumbent of a rectory in the country : — " May 3, 1859. " My dear Sir, " Had not a friend unexpectedly come to see me last evening, 1 should have written to you, apologizing for the apparently rude way in which I sent my card to you behind the scenes on Friday, after the per- formance had commenced. Your kind letter received this morning, has quite set my mhid at rest as to the manner in which you received it. My coming to town at all was a sudden freak, carried out on the spur of the moment. I wished to give my boys, who were with me, an Easter holiday. 1 was particularly anxious to see " Henry the Fifth ; " and on Friday morning there was a sudden calm after some rough 352 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES winds, which looked tempting enough for a sea trip. Hence it was that we only arrived in London in time to get to the Princess's at seven o'clock, and found all the stalls engaged, and seemingly, the entire house crammed. Eather than go so far on a fool's errand, after raising the boys' expectations so high, I scratched a hasty message to yourself, to see if you could help me out of the diificulty, and immediately after this, the boxkeeper fomid me a couple of seats, into which we all three managed to pack ourselves, and sat very com- fortably indeed throughout. I was far more than (jratified; I would not have missed the representation for anything ; I was delighted — carried away. Since I returned home, I have read through ''Henry Fifth" again, and wondered that I had not seen so many beauties in it before. For such a lesson in elocution, I and the five or six other clergymen I saw around me, ought to be properly grateful to you. One of the persons, by the bye, was my old tutor at Exeter College, whom I had not seen since 1845. He is now, I believe, a very energetic " via media " man, with a strong bias to " Evangelicalism." He seemed, how- ever, to be thoroughly rapt by the splendour of the ecclesiastical ceremonial you set before us. So modestly chaste, and so simply grand in outward pomp and in exquisite music, that I do not believe even Lord himself could have been offended at it. It was, in fact, too real to oifend the most delicate religious suscepti- bility. There was nothing sham to strike either ear or eye ; and so the touching nature of the various incidents connected with Henry s invasion of France appealed straight to our hearts. I can assure you that our atten- tion and interest remained in the same unflagged con- dition of excitement into which they had been worked by the opening scenes. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. o53 " I slionld much like to know when the period of your management closes, because a large party of us intend to come up on purpose ; and yet, if possible, we want to put off our coming until July. With my kind regards and compliments to Mrs. Kean, in which all my family will gladly join, wh^n I apprise them of my having written, and to yourself also, " I am, my dear Sir, " Very sincerely yours, The attraction of •' Henry the Fifth" superseded the necessity of an Easter novelty ; but on Whit Monday, the play, which until then had stood alone in the bills, was followed by a new Comedietta, in one act, written by Messrs. Yates and Harrington. It was called " If the Cap Fits," and met with a most favourable recep- tion, being repeated for nearly fifty niglits. We know not whether this amusing trifle is of French origin, or entirely original. The dialogue is smartly written, with point and humour, showing that the authors are well practised in one leading essential of dramatic com- position. The characters are ingeniously contrasted, and were impersonated with due spirit by Miss Murray, Miss Bufton, Mr. W. Lacy, Mr. Everett, and Mr. F. Matthews. On Saturday, July the 9th, "Henry the Fifth" was acted for the eighty-fourth time, and finally withdrawn after that evening.* During the last nights the houses were crowded to excess. The aggregate receipts went far beyond those of its most successful Shakespearean predecessors. The run of the play did not terminate because its popularity was on the wane, but from a * At Covent Garden, in 1839, under Mr. Macready's management, Henry the Fifth was acted twenty-one nights ; not consecutively, but on alternative evenings with Richelieu, the Stranger, As You like it. the Winter's Tale, and the Lady of Lyons. VOL. n. A A 354 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES desire on Mr. Kean's part to gi*atify his patrons with variety, as the concluding weeks of his management approached. "Henry the Eighth," which had been repeatedly asked for, was produced on Monday, July the 11th. A lapse of four years had occasioned no changes of importance in the distribution of the prin- cipal characters. All the great scenic effects were re- stored with their former splendour and historical accuracy. The acting of Mr. and Mrs. C. Kean, as CardAnal Wol- sey and the Queen, presented, if possible, more finished exhibitions of two of Shakespeare's most elaborate por- traits, than those with which they had delighted one hundred successive audiences in 1855. Our details in a preceding chapter render repetition here unnecessary. The season now approached its termination; but, before the last night was announced, Mr. Kean received one of the most flattering tributes ever bestowed by public opinion on distinguished ability and services. His old Etonian companions came forward, sponta- neously, to proclaim to the world that the first actor of the day had been educated amongst them, and was one of themselves. Through the following gi-aceful an- nouncement, they invited the people of England to join them in a common tribute- to one whose private and pro- fessional life reflected honour on the seminary to which they all belonged, and had been so perseveringly de- voted to the elevation of a noble art. " Proposed Public Banquet a7id Testimonial to Charles Kean, F.8.A., at St. Jamess Hall, on Wednesday, July 20, 1859. The earl OF CARLISLE in the Chair. " A number of noblemen and gentlemen, educated at Eton, nearly all of them contemporary with Mr. Charles Kean, have formed themselves into a Committee for the OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. />/55 purpose of inviting their old schoolfellow to a banquet, on the occasion of his retiring from the management of the Princess's Theatre, and of presenting him with a testimonial to mark their sense of his distinguished talent. " The Committee, further considering that the right of acknowledging J\Ir. Kean's services belongs to the nation at large, are anxious that the public should unite with them in testifying their admiration for one who has so long and so successfully laboured to provide for their intellectual enjoyment, and who has done so much towards upholding the dignity and higli chai-acter of the national stage. "All commimications to be addressed to the Hon. Secretary, Thomas Henry Taunton, Esq., at Mr. Sams' Royal Library, 1, St. James's Street. COMMITTEE. His Grace the Duke of Kewcastle. His Grace the Duke of Rutland. Most Hon. the Marquis of Lon- donderry. Right Hon. the Earl of Carlisle. Right Hon. the Earl of Eglintoun. Right Hon. the Earl of Craven. Right Hon. the Earl of Dunraven. Right Hon. the Earl of Norltury. Right Hon. the Earl of Sandwich, Right Hon. the Earl of Selkirk. Right Hon. the Earlof Chestei-field. Right Hon. the Viscount Pollingt-on. Right Hon. theViscount Exmouth. Right Hon. tlie Viscount Chelsea. Rt. Hon.the Lord J.Manners, M.P. The Lord Macdonald. The Lord Eniest Bruce, M.P. The Lord Lindsay. The Lord .John Scott. Col. the Hon. Augustus Liddell. Col. the Hon. Js. Lindsay, M.P. Col. De Bathe. Major Blake. The Hon. William Cow^er, M.P. Right Hon. W. E Gladstone, M.P. Right Hon. Spencer Walpole, M.P. Gen, Sir .J. Burgoyne.'Bart.G.C.B. ShWalterMinto Farquhar.Bt.M. P. Sir Frederick Rogers/Bart. Col, Clifford, M. P. C. J. Selwyn, Esq. M.P. Sir John Duntze, Bart. Sir Francis Hastings Doyle, Bart. Mr. Serjeant Kinglake, M. P. William Vansittart, Esq. M.P. Thomas E. Moss, Esq. of Liveq:)Ool. Thomas Phinn, Esq. Q. C. Walker Skirrow, Jun. Esq. William Piatt, Esq. W. C. Long, Esq. P. L. Powys, Esq. M.P. Lewis Loyd, Esq. Charles Goding, Esq. Charles Edward Johnston, Esq, Rev. R. Lewis Browne. James Roliert Hope Scott, Esq. D.C.L. and Q.C. Lieut.-Col. AL Bruce. T. H, Taunton, Esq, Hon. Sec. a2 356 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES These advertisements had no sooner appeared, than many of the leading journals teemed with approving paragraphs, indicating the general interest excited by tlie subject. We select some passages from an article in a paper of extensive circulation, and much weight as a critical authority,* which condenses the chief points in a tone of clear reasoning and just compliment. " To Mr. Charles Kean belongs the singular merit of distinguishing himself as the enthusiastic supporter of a sinking cause, and of delaying the final doom of the drama by his own individual force. From the aspect of the theatrical horizon w^e have no right to augur that any successor will arise to continue his work. On the contrary, we are assured that the next director of the Princess's Theatre will devote it to plays of the Porte Saint Martin school ; and we cannot point to any other establishment in central London, which any living ma- nager would dream of consecrating unreservedly to the manes of Shakespeare. " Looking at the struggles of Mr. Kean, — at the labour of mind and body, for which no treasury could compensate, — we are inclined to compare him to those patriots of the latter days of Greek independence, whose names, less familiar than others who flourished in the days of Marathon and Thermopylge, come down to us surrounded by a tragic halo, and claim an especial respect from the very circumstance that they could only procrastinate, and could not prevent, the ruin of their coimtry— the heroes of the Achsean League. David Garrick, when he revived a love of Shakespeare, had the pleasure of awakening a new sensation ; and the Kembles and the elder Kean maintained the tragic drama while its attractive powers were at their height ; but in Mr. Charles Kean we have the aspect of a zealot * See the " Saturday Review," of June 18th, 1859. OF CHAKLES KEAN, F.S.A. 357 contending against the tide of fashion, — fighting against the deadliest of adversaries, namely, weary indifference, — availing himself of expedient after expedient to carry out the grand ])urpose of his life, without even the hearty encouragement of those who ought to have sym- pathized with his honest and well-directed endeavours. To force the sight-hunters into Hliakcspearean worship, he brought spectacle to a perfection little short of mira- culous ; but by this very method he offended a number of literary dilettanti, who, with monstrous assurance, and in defiance of all the teachings of experience, tried, to make out a case in favour of shabby scenery. In vain did Mr. Kean explain, by an address in his play-bills, tliat his scenery and dresses were replete with historical instruction. The most miserable scribblers of burlesque thought it comic to turn the addresses themselves into ridicule, and were rewarded by the laughter of many who ought to have known better. But the great artist gave the best possible answer to his vituperators. He did not rub a particle of gold from his scenes, or dismiss a man from his band of supernumeraries, when they could be of service; but he relied more and more on his genius as an actor ; and the toils of one entire season were expended to prove that, notwitlistanding all the cant about smothering Shakespeare with finery, nobody was more deeply impressed with the necessity of subor- dinating accessories to principals than the great actoi- himself The characters which he successively played at the commencement of the present (his 'farewell') season, one after the other, imbued the public with tin- conviction that a tragedian, unrivalled beyond the thought of competition, was about to leave them. " And by whom has Mr. Kean been really supported throughout his honourable but toilsome career? Not by any class or clique ; not by the aristocracy ; not by 358 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMEB the cultivators of light literature ; not by a fashionable coterie : but by that substantial, undefinable public that takes in all these, but yet is influenced by none ; that public of which no one can discover individual repre- sentatives ; which expresses itself mass-wise, and which, deaf to the voice of intrigue and party criticism, is quick to appreciate the deserts of those who really work well for its edification or amusement. In the eyes of the public, Mr. Kean has ever been the great actor ; the public have acknowledged the beauty and historic worth of his decorations. It is only at the end of his career that his schoolfellows, the Etonians, make their appear- ance. They find him famous, and they honour the independent exertions by which the fame has been acquired." During the interval that elapsed between the an- nouncement and celebration of the festival, Mr. Kean received a host of congratulatory letters from personal friends and professional admirers, many of whom were total strangers. Amongst the latter communications, few were more gratifying than the one we here subjoin, to which a double interest is attached, arising from the feelings avowed, and the position of the writer as a member of the clerical profession. " My dear Sir, — " I once took the liberty, I fear a very unautho- rized one, of writing to you ; and I got so pleasant an answer, that I venture to repeat the impertinence. Living, as I do, two hundred miles from London, it is no wonder that I have only just seen that a public dinner is to be given to you on the 20th of July, and a testimonial is also to be presented. I am so very poor that I cannot afford to add to the testimonial, much less to make a journey to London. But this makes me the OF CHARLES KEAX, F.S.A. 359 more anxious to express to you, by letter, the unfeigned respect I feel for you, and the great pleasure it would give me to be able to join in any mode of testifying my sense of your admirable conduct in a profession which is sm-rounded by no small difficulties in the way of a man's duty. " It would give me particular pleasure, as a clergyman^ to attend your dinner (as I attended Mr. Macready's farewell dinner) ; because I have a special abhorrence of the cant which pretends that it is improper for a clergy- man to see a play. I believe that I have enjoyed as pure pleasure, as refined and as sweet, as I am capable of enjoying, in a theatre, " I should have liked, also, as an old Eton master, who have acted with Lord Carlisle at the Datchet Lane Theatre, to have expressed, by my presence, my gratifi- cation at finding that Eton can fit a man /or anytldng. " Wishing you all possible prosperity and happiness, "' Believe me, " Your'^ most sincerely. 360 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES CHAPTER XVII. BANQUET AND TESTIMONIAL TO CHARLES KEAN AT THE ST. JAMES'S HALL, ON THE 20TH JULY, 1859— THE DUKE OF NEWCASTLE IN THE CHAIR — SPEECHES ON THAT OCCASION REVIVAL OF THE WIFE's SECRET — THE SEASON CLOSES ON THE 29tH OF AUGUST, WITH HENRY THE EIGHTH — MR. C. KEAN'S FAREWELL ADDRESS— CONCLUDING OBSERVA- TIONS. The Dinner took place, as arranged, at St, James's Hall, Regent-street, on Wednesda}', the 20th of July, An intermediate change of Ministry having called the Earl of Carlisle, who was to have presided, to Ireland, to resume the office of Viceroy,— in his unavoidable absence the chair was most ably filled by his Grace the Duke of Newcastle.* He entered the banquet room a little after seven o'clock, and took his seat on a raised dais running along the breadth of the Hall, having on his right the guest of the evening', and on his left the Right Honorable W. E. Gladstone, Chancellor of the Exchequer. In the height of parliamentary business, these two distinguished statesmen found time to honour the occasion by their personal attendance. Amongst the committee who sat down at the cross table were Viscount Exmouth ; Lord John Manners, M.P. ; Lord Ernest Bruce, M.P. ; Lord Robert Clinton; Colonel the Hon. James Lindsay, M.P. ; the Right Hon. Spencer Walpole, M.P. ; General Sir John Burgoyne, G.C.B.; Sir Walter Minto Farquhar, Bart., M^P. ; Sir Walter Stirling, Bart. ; C. II. tfelwyn, Esq., M.P. ; * It is a remarkable incident that Lord Carlisle was thus, by the inter- ference of political duty, prevented for the second time from presiding at a banquet given in honour of Mr. C. Kean. A similar ditticulty pre- sented itself in 1838. OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 361 Sir Francis Hastings Doyle, Bart. ; ]\Ir. Serjeant King-lake, jNI.P. ; W. Vansittart, Esq., M.P. ; Tlios. E. ]\Ioss, of Liverpool, Esq. ; W. Piatt, Esq. ; W. C. Long, Esq. ; P. L. Powys, Esq., M.P. ; Lewis Loyd, Esq. ; Clias. E. Johnston, Esq. ; the Kev. R. Lewis Browne ; Lient. -Colonel M. Bruce ; Sir Erskine Perry, M.P. ; Sir J. Johnstone, M.P. ; Beresford Hope, Esq., M.P. ; and T. H. Taunton, Esq., honorary secretary. In the general company, amounting to five hundred and fifty (the full number the Hall would contain), were Mr. W. M. Thackeray ; Mr. Clarkson Staufield ; Mr. David Roberts ; Mr. Sims Reeves ; Mr. John Timbs, F.S.A. ; Mr. Godwin, F.S.A. ; Mr. Donne; Mr. Lovell, and many other distinguished representatives of literature, law, the fine arts, and the drama. The Universities of Oxford and Cambridge were respec- tively represented by their members. Behind the Chairman was placed a marble bust of Mr. C. Kean, by Bailey. The entertainment was graced by the presence of nearly four hundred ladies in the galleries, who gave an unwonted brilliancy and animation to the scene. Mrs. Charles Kean entered the balcony during the dinner, and was received with enthusiastic and long- continued plaudits, which she acknowledged with much grace and feeling. The dinner being over, and " Non nobis Domine " having been sung by the choir of Eton College, The noble Chairman proposed "The Queen," which was responded to with the customary enthusiasm, and followed by the " National Anihem." The next toast was " The Prince Consort, Prince of Wales, and the rest of the Royal Family." The Chairman, in proposing it, expressed a hope that the Prince of M^ales, in his next tour, would pay a visit to some of the great colonies of England. (Loud cheers.) 362 THE LIFE AND TIIEATKICAL TIMES He also spoke in terms of high eulogy of the Duke of Cambridge, who, he said, was devotiug the whole of his energies to the reorganisation of the British array. The toast was drunk with the utmost cordiality. Then followed "The Array and Navy," to which General Sir J. Burgoyne replied. The Chairman again rose and said : " Gentleraen, 1 now approach a theme for which I unfeignedly say I feel myself incompetent — a task from which many a man, better fitted than I am, might well, not to his discredit, shrink ; a task which I do not hesitate to say I deeply regret has not fallen to the lot of him who was originally intended to perform it (the Earl of Carlisle). Allow me, before proposing this toast, to say a w^ord with reference to the origin of the present banquet. You, or at least many of you, know that every son of Eton looks back with feelings of the tenderest affection to the school in whicli he was brought up. Many of you who were not educated at Eton may know that there is a freemasonry amongst us which draws us together under whatever circumstances, and in what- ever quarter of the world we raay be thrown. (Hear, hear.) Well, then, we, Etonians, contemporaries of Charles Kean (cheers), felt that whilst we enrolled in our archives the names of some of the most distinguished men which this country has produced (hear, hear) — generals, statesmen, philosophers, poets, and others, we had now a son of Eton w^ho had brought fresh lustre on the school to which we belonged, and of him there- fore we were anxious to prove our admiration. (" Hear, hear," cheers, and a cry of " Bravo.") But we felt at the same time that in such a demonstration it was the right of all to join. (Cheers.) We, Etonians, initiated it, but we felt that it was proper to call upon you to participate in it. (Hear, hear.) AYe felt that the fame OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 363 of Charles Kean is the property of all ; uurtuicd it was at Eton, but it has grown with his growth, and is now the property of his age and of his country ; and therefore we have invited you all to meet at this banquet and to join in that testimonial which is to be the conseqiience of it. (Cheers.) It would occupy too long if I w^ere to attempt to give to you anything like a biography of our guest, but I may be pardoned if in this assembly, initiated by Etonians, I mention that it is now thirty- five years ago since he and I, and many others at this table, were first associated together in that school. (Hear, hear.) That as a scholar he was distinguished you may judge from what you have seen of him in after life. (Hear, hear.) That as a boy he was popular I may appeal to the friends who are assembled around me at this table. (" Hear, hear," and great cheering.) But that he was no book worm merely, I may prove by the fact, that whilst the honorary secretary of this testi- monial was the captain of the boats, he was the second captain, and pulled the stroke in a match of six ; and it is a curious fact that four out of those six are at the present moment in this room. (Hear, and cheers.) Nay, such was his prowess, and such was the honest rivalry, which in that day as in most others, produces friendship, that he and the honorary secretary pulled the rival tens, and I believe it was a drawn match ; at any rate, it was celebrated by a breakfast of the joint crews at the " Christopher.'' (Cheers.) Tn the very year that he left Eton he entered upon the stage. It would be impertinence in me to refer to the circum- stances which induced that step, but I may mention as an additional element of credit to that career that his education had not tended to any such course. I believe that in six years from that time he performed on the boards of Coveut-garden for the last time with his 364 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES distinguished father who died shortly after. (Gieat applause.) And upon that occa,5ion he also acted with another — with Miss Ellen Tree — (cheers, the whole of the company standing up and waving handkerchiefs and hands to Mrs. Kean, who was in the gallery) — with her who has been the partaker of all his labours and all his glories, and who is now the happy participator in the honours Avhich are thrust upon him. {" Hear, hear," and cheers.) Gentlemen, it would be absurd in m(, even if I were not too long encroaching upon your time, (cries of " No, no ") to attempt anything like a descrip- tion of the state of the Stage when Charles Kean entered upon it ; but I may allude to this fact, that for some time before, there had been a complete severance of dramatic poetry from the theatre ; and whilst dramatic poetry occupied the highest position in the imaginative literature of this country, whilst every body delighted in the poetry of the Elizabethan era in the closet, Shakespeare was excluded, or nearly so, from those boards upon which it had been his purpose and delight to introduce the most beautiful conceptions of his genius. (Cheers.) To avoid this evil, and to introduce a reform in such a matter has been the object of Mr. Kean's life. Gentlemen, in the days of ancient Greece, the theatre and the drama were the most effective instruments in form- ing the character of that remarkable nation ; and if it is not the same at this moment, it is at any rate an index to the social status of a people, and we may trace in succession the feelings, and sentiments, and moral opinions of this country if we look back to the coarse- ness of language — and coarseness, 1 believCj of language alone — which prevailed in the age of the Tudors, degenerating into actual obscenity, and, what is worse, profligacy of thought and sentiment in the reign of Charles the Second, followed up by the frivolity of OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 365 subsequent times. AVe sliaJl see, I believe, now, if not a complete revival of what we would earnestly wish to see, at any rate we shall find a material improvement in the tastes and sentiments of the present day. (Hear, hear.) I have referred to ancient Greece. In Greece the actors of that country were considered worthy of the highest honours of the State; and it is strange, indeed, that, in this land of litera- ture and art, whilst other follow^ers of art, whilst sculp- tors, painters, poets, receive, at any rate, some portion and meed of praise, of approbation, and of respect, and, so far from grudging it them, I say they do not receive so much as they ought — (cries of " Bravo," and cheers) — I say that it is strange that while they, at any rate, receive some honour, that branch of art the most rare, the most difficult in which to arrive at excellence, seems to have been cast into the shade, and treated almost with obloquy ; — at any rate, with indifference. (Hear, hear.) Honour. I then say, to the man who has raised the stage from what it was when he entered upon it to what it is now. I do not mean to say that he found it in such a low state as I have represented it to have been in former days, but he has raised it ma- terially; and he has introduced reforms, begun by the great Garrick, followed up by the two Kembles and his own father, and now matured, and impioved. and in- creased by himself. (Applause.) I allude, of course, to what have been called his Shakespearean revivals. We all know their merits ; we have heard them criticized ; but they have outlived criticism. (Hear, hear.) But his fame does not rest alone, however greatly a portion of it may, upon these Shakespearean revivals. He has shown a versatility in his art ; he has shown a know- ledge of the human character ; he has shown the in- fluence of mind over the passions of men ; he has .366 THE LIFE AXD THEATRICAL TIMES shown all these qualities iu a way which proves that he is no copyist, that he is not a mannerist, that he is not a man with one idea only. (Cheers.) Moreover, he is a great historical painter. I see some distinguished professors of the art of painting in this room, and I ask them whether they do not look upon Mr. Kean as a rival in the art, only that their productions, happily for thera, descend, fresh as they came from their easels, to posterity ; his, unhappily for him, perish in the same evening, and leave nothing but their fame behind them ? (Hear, hear.) His sceneries are not only lessons in art, but they are lessons in history, (Hear, hear.) We have become, of late years, many of us, attached to archaeo- logy. I look upon Mr. Kean as one of the greatest archaeologists of the day. (Hear, hear.) He has had a reason for everything ; there is nothing which he in- troduces upon the stage for which he has not authority, and you may see living representations of Shakespeare's characters, with the exact costume, the exact scenery, the exact furniture of the rooms M'hich, there is every reason to believe, from pictures and other sources, existed at the time Shakespeare represented. But he has done more ; he has introduced groups upon the stage which approach to a marvel in merit ; the way he has organized them, the way he has dealt with them, the way he has brought them upon the stage, moved them, and, when they have played their part, removed thera — would be worthy of any general in the service. (" Hear, hear,^' cheers, and laughter.) He has, in act- ing Shakespeare, answered the question of Shakespeare himself — " Can this cockpit hold tlie vasty fields of France ? " and Mr. Kean has proved that his cockpit could ; and if it were said that it could be done in any but his OF CHARLES KEAX, F.S.A. />b< theatre, it \\-ould be believed to be impossible. Well, but in Tvliat spirit has this been entered upon ? It has been in no commercial spirit. (Cheers.) Not neglect- ing the interests of his family — and we should all have less respect for him if he did (hear, hear) — I say, not neglecting the interests of his family, he has nevertheless been actuated by a pure love of art, by a love of his profession, by a noble spirit. (Hear, hear.) He no doubt feels the truth of the lines, — " The drama's laws the di'ama's patrons give, " For those who Uve to please must please to live." We acknowledge that sentiment ; he has not been improperly influenced by it ; he has never allowed the love of gain to induce him to swerve for one moment from that clear line of duty, I may call it, which he has chalked out for himself ; he has followed his career re gardless of every selfish consideration (hear, hear), and I am certain he now has his reward in the approval and admiration of his friends and the public. (Cheers.) At the same time, his hand has ever been open to assist the poor and needy, (hear, hear,) more especially if they have belonged to his own profession. I need only recal to you the meeting in the Princess's Theatre about twelve months ago, when he eloquently advocated the cause of the Dramatic College (a voice, " AVhat has become of it now ? ''), and proved that not only was his eloquence at the service of this charity, but that his purse was ready too, (Hear, hear.) Now then, gen- tlemen, as our guest has to follow me, I should indeed stand unjustifiable before you if I said one word more in advocating this testimonial. You know his public merits ; many of you know his private virtues ("hear," and cheers), and therefore I will only say that I now ask you to drink to the health of one whose virtues and 368 THE LIFE AND TREATRICAL TIMES whose private character have brought around him a wide circle of affectionate and admiring friends; — to one whose zeal in his profession, amountiug almost to enthusiasm, has led him to prove that, the theatre may be made, not merely the vehicle for frivolous amusement, or, what is worse, for dissipation, but that it may be erected into a gigantic instrument of education for the instruction of the young, and for the edification as well as amusement, of those of maturer age. (Cheers, which lasted some time.) I ask you to drink his health as one who has exalted the character of the English theatre ; I ask you to drink his health as one whose benevolence and charity many down-trodden brothers and sisters of his art have felt and blessed (hear, hear) ; I ask you to drink his health as one who by his genius has illustrated, and by his character has elevated, the profession on which he has entered (applause) : and, finally, I ask you to drink his health as one whom I may term, if figura- tively, at any rate without exaggeration, as the hierarch of that glorious temple in which Shakespeare is en- shrined/' (Loud and long-continued cheering, in the midst of which the noble chairman sat down.) The toast was drunk by the company upstanding, amidst enthusiastic cheering and waving of handkerchiefs ou the part of the ladies. Every point in this admir- able speech told upon the listeners; and nothing more forcibly than the tone of personal kindness by which it was pervaded. The general excitement having somewhat abated, Mr. Kean, on rising to return thanks, was rapturously applauded. He said — " My Lords and Gentlemen, when I entered this room and took my seat in presence of this distinguished company, as the invited guest of the evening, I felt and appreciated at its full value, and, I \i'ust, with becoming pride, the flattering position to OF CIIAIILES KEAN, E.S.A. oGO which your favour has exalted me ; but it was impossible for me to anticipate the kind and gracious eulogiums of the noble chairman, so Avarmly and eloquently ex- pressed, and your enthusiastic response, which I may truly say has completely overpowered me. (Cheers.) I am totally unable to thank you as I ought or as I wish. I throw myself on your indulgence, entreating you to believe in the sincerity of ray feebly uttered sentimeAts, and to pardon the poverty of ray language in consideration of tlie overflow of my heart. (Cheers.) Amongst the leading influences of human character the ties of kin- dred occupy a foremost rank ; next to these, perhaps, may be placed the associations of boyhood, the remem- brance of those h;ippy days, at school or college, when life " first put forth the tender leaves of hope;" when all was spring and sunshine ; when our young minds were engrossed with the present, and the gathering clouds of the future were unseen or disregarded. (Sensation.) All these thronging visiuns of the past come back upon me at this moment, after the lapse of more than thirty years, with the freshness of yesterday, and with that pure enjoy- ment v/hich only such revived feelings can impart, as I look upon many of the faces by which I am surrounded, and consider the originating impulse that gave rise to the present brilliant assemblage. (Cheers.) To be thus recognised and presented, as it were, anew to the public, as the fellow-student and early companion of men who have inherited or achieved the highest honours and the purest fame — men as universally esteemed for their talents, their integrity, and their benevolence, as for their exalted rank and social importance — (cheers); — such a crowning episode in the pilgrimage of life is surely more than enough to compensate for years of toil, and to obliterate for ever the memory of past struggles, anxieties, and disappointments. (Cheers.) VOL. 11. li D 370 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TKMES How, also, am I to find words in which to convey my sense of obHgation to my unswerving patrons and sup- porters — tlie pubhc ; that public who have so frankly and generously responded to the present call, and whose co-operation was ever ready to promote what I conscientiously believed to be the blending of their most intellectual recreation with a true development of the best purposes of our national drama. Let me offer to their representatives here my heartfelt gratitude — " Only I have left to say ]\Iore is thy due than more than all can pay." You have done me a great honour — the greatest pos- sible honour that could be conferred on a member of the theatrical profession^ and, consequently, on the dramatic art itself; — that art, the progress and prosperity of which cannot be otherwise than a subject of interest to every reflecting and educated mind; for the legiti- mate object of the drama is to contribute to the intel- lectual culture of mankind— to expose to view the secret springs of action, the most minute vibrations of the human heart ; to exhibit the character of man under all its various and conflicting passions ; to inspire senti- ments which may serve the purposes of truth and morality; — 'Svhose end,^^ as Shakespeare has told us, " both at the first and now, was and is, to hold as ^twere the mirror up to nature ; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time, its form and pressure." (Cheers.) When these objects are not attained, the drama has not fulfilled its mission. It is not because the stage may be degraded from its higher purposes that its beneficial influence should be overlooked or rejected. (Cheers, and cries of " Bravo ! ") All human institutions must neces- sarily l)e defective in their organisation, as comprising OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 371 within themselves mingled elements of good and evil. Imperfect in their source, they cannot he otherwise than imperfect iu their exercise. The effect depends upon the care with which these elements are regulated, and the utmost that can be hoped fur is a preponderance of good. (Cheers.) Thus, iu the natural world, we find plants possessing the contrasted ingredients of health and destruction. Shakespeare has described this in one of his most familiar passages — " Within the infant rind of this small flower Poison hath residence and medicine power ; Two such opposed foes encamp them still In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will ; And where the worser is predominant Full soon the canker death eats up that plant." (Loud Cheers.) These lines contain a brief but comprehensive moral, which may be applied not only to the stage, but to every- thing in life, of whatever class or quality. It may be difficult to preserve a garden free from weeds, but who for that reason would root up the flowers, or abandon them to be choked ? (Cheers.) That which contains certain advantages to society at large, surely should not be dis- regarded as an instrument of good because it is capable of misapplication. Its use, and not its abuse, should be rendered most prominent, and its influence encouraged as a humanizing agent in embellishing life, refining taste, and imparting knowledge. (Cheers.) Let it be remem- bered, in the words of our own immortal poet, " It is in oiu-selvesjtliat we are thus and thus ; " and that " There is good in everything." (Cheers.) The love of the drama is inherent in our nature, and must have been implanted there for some beneficial purpose. For ages it has employed the loftiest intellect, and has asserted universal sway over 372 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES the heart and mind of man. In no country throughout the world, past or present, has the poetical dram;i reached such perfection as in England, for the annals of genius and civilization include but one Shakespeare. (Cheers.) A stream of light has been poured upon the world^s surface by that brilliant luminary which no change can darken, no time can obliterate. (Cheers.) He casts his rays over the highest and the lowest ; his influence is felt by every class and grade j his authority has been appealed to by the advocate, the judge, the statesman, and the divine ; he has furnished texts for science, philosophy, patriotism, affection, charity and religion itself. (Cheers.) Truly has the great moralist, Dr. Johnson, said, " Shakespeare is a mine which contains gold and diamonds in inex- haustible plenty. His plays are filled with practical axioms and domestic wisdom. From his works may be collected an entire system of civil and economical prudence." And surely Dr. Johnson was right; for where shall we find such boundless versatility of thought and reasoning, such consummate knowledge of the human heart, with all its complicated mechanism V such golden precepts to improve the conduct of life, and render men wiser, as well as better ? Not a turn of thought — not a fluctuation of feeling, was unknown to him ; for his comprehensive mind reached everything, glancing "From heaven to earth, from earth to heaven." His faults reflect the manners of the day, not the character of the man. (Cheers.) Had the theatre never existed there would have been no field for the exercise of this mighty genius ; and who will be bold enough to assert that a mere human being was thus inspired by a benign Providence for any other purpose than the advantage of his fellow-creatures? (Loud cheers.) The stage is the surest medium through which the OF CHARLES KE.KN, F.S.A. 373 precious geras of tliis intellectual mine can be scattered amongst tlie multitude; and, as actors, we may well l)e proud to be thus considered the trustees of this mighty treasure. It is our peculiar privilege to bring genera- tion after generation face to face with the poet himself, giving vitality to his works in a manner which appeals to the senses, and teaches while it fascinates. The more Shakespeare is known to the million, the greater amount of beneficial influence will be spread abroad ; and such a result is not to be anticipated from the student in his closet, but from the actor in the theatre. In '' Murphy's Life of David Garrick" an incident is related which may not be uninteresting to the present company. It is there stated that about the year 1737, amidst the darkness which immediately preceded the advent of that wonderful actor and distinguished man, the master works of our great poet were comparatively neglected, and had given place to frivolity and folly. The drama had, in fact, sunk into an abject condition. To the honour of the ladies of that day, it is told that, feeling the unhappy degradation of the national stage, a subscription was set on foot by them to dethrone buiFoonery and restore Shakespeare. (Cheers.) Should we ever again so far degenerate as to turn aside from the right path, I would appeal to " that heaven of beauty which now shines full upon us,'' entreating them to invoke the daughters of England to hasten to our rescue, that under their angelic guidance we may be Jed back from our erring way into the lost track. Then might we say with the poet — " woman, woman, thou wast made Like heaven's own pure and lovely light. To cheer life's dark and desert shade. And guide man's erring footsteps right." (Cheers.) My lords and gentlemen, no words of mine *>74 THE LIFE AND THEATRICAL TIMES can convey my gratitude for the priceless compliment you have bestowed upon me. I can only say that " my endeavours have ever come too short of my desires, yet tiled with my abilities." The memory of this day will be cherished by ray representatives when 1 am no longer amongst them, and 1 hope and believe will serve to stimulate the efforts of the rising actor, awakening in him the reflection that in the honourable exercise of his vocation there is one rewaixl ever open to him which no obstacle can prevent, no prejudice can withhold — a prize above all others to which he should zealously and steadily direct his aim— respect from the respected.'' (Mr. Kean i^esumed his seat amidst reiterated peals of applause.) The Chancellor of the Exchequer, then proposed in eloquent terms " The health of the Cliairman," which was most enthusiastically received. In the course of his speech, referring to the occasion of the meeting, and the guest of the assembly, he said — "I can, too, render witness to Mr. Kean as being a public bene- factor. (Hear, hear.) If anything could add to my individual satisfaction in rendering that witness, it would be the circumstance that I am politically con- nected by representation, and have for many years been connected, with one of the great seats of learning and education in England. (Cheers.) I see in our friend one of those who has ever asserted the social brother- hood that exists between all true and genuine instru- ments of human cultivation. (Hear, hear.) He has said truly that in the Drama the greatest powers of the human mind have been exhibited. 'J'his most influential instrument, which has sometimes grovelled in the mire, and which has rarely been appreciated to the full extent of its capacity, Mr. Kean has devoted almost immea- surable labour to raising up to its due and natural OF CHARLES KEAN, F.S.A. 375 elevation. This is the service that he has conferred upon the age ; this is the service that we are here to commemorate ; and I pray you to drink, as it ought to be drunk, the health of my noble friend, the Chairman ; because he has given us the advantage of his presence, of his carefully matured thoughts, of his powerful ex- pression, in order to convey to the world that which we feel, and that which we desire to sny and record, t commend to you ' The Health of his Grace the Duke of Newcastle.' " The noble Chairman in his reply used an expression which called forth repeated plaudits. " We are met here/^ he said, " without political animosity or jarring feelings of any kind, ministers in office, and ministers out of office, to join in a common tribute to one who, without being of any party, belongs to and is recognised by all." Then followed the toast of "The Honorary Secre- tarv," H. T. Taunton, Esq., which was also warmly responded to. The Chairman, in eloquent and appropriate terais, gave "The health of Mrs. Kean," which produced another remarkable display from the assembled com- pany. "I am conscious," said the noble Duke, "that I stand in the presence of that lady, and I know enough of her delicacy of mind, to know that it would be most unpleasiag to her, if upon this occa- sion, and in so large an assembly as this, I were to enter into any lengthened eulogy of her character. (Cheers.) T know that she will only value the compliment which we now pay her as reflecting upon her husband, and as showing that she has participated in all his labours. She has shared in his triumphs, and she rewards his labours by her devoted affection. (Cheers.) But I may be allowed, even in her presence, to say that she has 870 titt: life and theatrical' times exhibited a briglit example to the Eng^lish Stage in her eai'eer. (Hear, hear.) In no respect liave Mr. and Mrs. Kean brought greater honour upon their establishment — in nothing have they more distinguished themselves in their management of the Princess's Theatre, than in the interest which they have shown in the almost domestic and affectionate care which has been taken of those who are engaged there. (Great applause.) They have watched over their interests ; they have watched over their morality and their happiness. (Hear, hear.) They have attended to their health ; they have made the Princess's more like a great domestic establishment than a public institution in which people have no care for those Avho serve them, provided they fulfil the duties they have to perform. 1 say, then, honour to tliem, and especial honour to Mrs. Kean in setting so bright an example." (Loud cheers.) Mr. Kean in reply said — " The graceful manner in which Mrs. Kean's name has been introduced to your notice through the kindness of the noble chairman, and the enthusiasm with which that name has been received ])y the present company, is indeed most gratifying to me. The compliment which I feel so deeply, is, I know, equally felt by my wife. Permit me, however, to intreat that in my anxiety to spare your time, you will not estimate the amount of our mutual gratitude by the brevity of my I'eply. (Hear, hear.) Amidst the com- plicated duties of management, the director of a theatre, like the general of an army, requires the assistance of an efficient staff. Mrs. Kean has been my first aide- de-camp, and never had commander one more able and more indefatigable. (Loud cheers.) She has been my solace in the hour of trouble, ray counsellor in the hour of need. Her courage never flagged, her heart never failed. I may truly quote the words of Solomon : — '■ She OF CHARLES KEAX, F.R.A. oil openeth her moutli with wisdom, and in her tongue is the law of i