>.*§« 
 
 
 i -^J^ffl 
 
 ■ ♦ 
 
 
 
 ^■^:'t,.
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 AN 
 
 AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE 
 
 OF 
 
 MR. KEMBLE'S 
 
 %ttixtmmt from t|)e ^tage; 
 
 INCLUDING 
 
 FAREWELL ADDRESS, CRITICISMS, POEMS, &c, 
 
 SELECTED FROM VARIOUS PERIODICAL PUBLICATIONS; 
 
 WITH 
 
 AN ACCOUNT OF THE DINNER GIVEN AT THE 
 FREEMASONS' TAVERN, JUNE 27, 1817; 
 
 AN ALPHABETICAL LIST OF THE COMPANY PRESENT; 
 
 SPEECHES OF LORD HOLLAND, MR. KEMBLE; 
 
 MR. CAMPBELL'S ODE, &c. &c. 
 
 TO WHICIt IS PREFIXED, 'Mt "■ ' ' 
 
 ESSAY,,- 
 
 EMBELLISHED WITH PLATES. , 
 
 " You shall not be 
 
 " The grave of your deseiving ; Rome must know 
 
 " The value of htr own." 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 LOISDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR JOHN MILLER, 25, BOW-STREET, 
 COVENT-GARDEN. 
 
 1817. 
 
 [Cntcrco at Stationew' i^ali].
 
 « c t t 
 
 
 London : Printed by Ij. M'MiUan, 3 
 itow Street, Covent Garden. )
 
 ^^( 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PACK 
 
 Biographical and Critical Essay, 
 
 Narrative, 1 
 
 List of Characters sustained by Mr. Kemble, 1816-17, • • • • 2 
 
 Mr. Kemble's Farewell Address, 6 
 
 Copy of Ornamented Scroll, 7 
 
 Anecdotes, &c. 10 
 
 CRITICISMS. 
 
 From Morning Clironicle, 12 
 
 Sun, ir 
 
 Morning Post, 20 
 
 Times, 21 
 
 Bell's Weekly Messenger, 27 
 
 News, 30 
 
 Tribute to a departed Actor, by James Smith, Esq. 33 
 
 Ode on the Retirement of Mr. Kemble, 35 
 
 Account of the Dinner, 38 
 
 Inscription for the Vase, 44 
 
 Deputation from Drury-Lane Theatre, 45 
 
 List of the Company present at the Dinner, 47 
 
 Lord Holland's Speech, 53 
 
 Mr. Campbell's Ode, 56 
 
 Mr. Kemble's Speech, &c. &c. 59 
 
 General Observations, 67 
 
 Theatrical Portrait of Mr. Kemble, 69 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Bill of the first Play in which Mr. Kemble acted, 72 
 
 List of Mr. Kemble's Literary Productions, 73 
 
 Extract from a French Paper, 75 
 
 from Dedicatiou to the Duke of Northumberland, • • 76 
 
 Poetical Address by Walter Scott, Esq. 76 
 
 Bill of the last Play in which Mr. Kemble acted, 78 

 
 «'r «cr r««
 
 ESSAY, 
 
 IN writing an Essay, whose subject matter 
 is closely connected with the character of an in^ 
 dividual, it might perhaps be required of us to 
 enter in to a minute detail concerning the person 
 to whom we must necessarily have such frequent 
 reference ; our limits, however, forbid us, in the 
 present instance, dwelling further on the early 
 life or progress of Mr. Kemble's professional 
 career, than simply to relate the leading facts 
 and circumstances which led to, and ultimately 
 confirmed his Theatrical and Literary reputa- 
 tion ; yet what may be wanting in minute- 
 ness of narrative, we trust will be compen- 
 sated in the accuracy of the circumstances we 
 have collected, and now present to our readers, 
 having received our information from sources 
 whose truth may be relied on. 
 
 John Philip Kemble, was born at Prescot, in 
 Lancashire, on the 1st of February, 1757. At 
 the time of his birth, his father, Mr. Roger 
 Kemble, was the Manager of a Company of 
 Comedians who had a regular routine of per- 
 
 b
 
 VI 
 
 formances in Lancashire, and some of the 
 neighbouring counties. 
 
 He received the early principles of education 
 in the Roman Catholic seminary, at Sedge- 
 ley Park, Staffordshire, where he gave early 
 proofs of an extraordinary taste for Literature. 
 On this account, he was sent by his father to 
 the University of Douay, in the year 1770, with 
 the intent of qualifying him for one of the learn- 
 ed professions. During a residence there, his 
 elocutionary powers developed themselves in a 
 very unusual degree ; particularly in recitations 
 from the Works of Shakspeare. 
 
 Having finished his career of juvenile studies, 
 he returned to England, and having a decided 
 preference for the Stage, he made his appear- 
 ance in Chamberlain's Company, at Wolver- 
 hampton, in the character of Theodosius, in the 
 Force of Love, with tolerable success. This 
 may be considered as his actual debut, although 
 he had at so early a period as ten years old, played 
 in his father's Company at Worcester, (with 
 his sister, now Mrs. Siddons), the part of the 
 Duke of York, in the Tragedy o^ King Charles 
 the First*. 
 
 His second appearance was at Wolverhamp- 
 ton, in the part of Bajazet, in which he gave 
 more decided promise of those extraordinary 
 
 See Appendix, A.
 
 Vll 
 
 talents, whicli have since raised him to unri- 
 valled eminence. 
 
 It would be uninteresting to follow Mr. 
 Kemble at this early period of his career, 
 through the provincial towns which he visited, 
 previously to his engagement at Liverpool and 
 York. 
 
 " Whilst at York, Mr. Kemble tried a new 
 species of entertainment in the theatre of 
 that city, consisting of a repetition of the 
 most beautiful odes from Mason, Gray, and 
 Collins; of the tales of Le Fevre and Maria, 
 from Sterne ; with other pieces in prose and 
 verse ; and in this novel and hazardous un- 
 dertaking, met with such approbation, that 
 we have ever since been over-run by crowds 
 of reciters, who want nothing but his talents 
 to be as successful as their original *." 
 Tate Wilkinson, the Patentee of York, 
 having about this time taken the Edinburgh 
 Theatre, Mr. Kemble accompanied him thither, 
 and established his reputation among men of 
 letters, in the composition and delivery of a 
 Lecture on Sacred and Profane Oratory, in which 
 he proved himself an able Critic, and an eloquent 
 declaimer. From Edinburgh we trace him to 
 Dublin, in the year 1782, in which city he first 
 appeared in the character of Hamlet, and re- 
 
 * Biographia Dramatica. 
 
 b2
 
 VIU 
 
 malned there two seasons, increasing in po- 
 pularity and estimation. In 1783, he ieil Dub- 
 lin, and made his first appearance in London, 
 on the 30th September of that ye.ar, at Drury- 
 Lane Tiicatre, in the character of Ham'et. His 
 performance of this character was of such un- 
 questionable merit, that he became the object of 
 urn versal praise and observation; but from the 
 circumstance of Mr. Smith being then in pos- 
 session of the chief tragic parts, Mr. Remble 
 was for a time prevented displaying the full 
 extent of his abilities, until, by the retire- 
 ment of that Gentleman in 1788, he became in- 
 vested with absolute tragic sway, and esta- 
 blished that fame which he has since upheld 
 with undiminished excellence. In 1787 he mar- 
 ried Mrs. Brereton, the widow of Mr. Brereton, 
 daughter of Mr. Hopkins, the the)) Prompter of 
 Drury-Lane Theatre; and in 1788, became a 
 useful as well as ornamental pillar of his profes- 
 sion, in the character of Manager of Drury- 
 Lane Theatre. Cotemporary testimonies in liis 
 favour are not wanting, to confirm what might 
 well be imagined, that his taste and science 
 wouk! be as successfully displaced in the direc- 
 tion of others, as in the government of himself; 
 and he is thus spoken of in a work of undoubted 
 impartiality. 
 
 In this oiBce, v.hich he held uninter- 
 ruptedly for eight years, he amply justified 

 
 IX 
 
 " the discernment that had placed him in it, 
 by the many material improvements which he 
 made in the general conduct of the prepara- 
 tory business of the Stage, in the regular de- 
 corum of representation, in the impartial ap- 
 pointment of performers to characters suited 
 to their real abilities, and in giving to all 
 characters their true and appropriate cos- 
 tume. The departments of the painter and 
 machinist were likewise objects of his con- 
 " stant attention ; and to his study and ex- 
 ertions, the Drama is indebted for the present 
 propriety and magnificence of its scenery and 
 decorations. These essential improvements 
 " will at once give testimony to the good sense, 
 " the professional knowledge, and classical taste 
 " of their introducer, and lay our native Drama 
 " under great obligations to him, for having 
 " raised it, in truth and splendour of repre- 
 " sentation, far above the competition of any 
 " other in Europe*."' 
 
 During the time of Mr Kemble's manage- 
 ment, he did not confine iiin'.*e)f mereiy to ^he 
 duties of his situation, but adoed very consider- 
 ably to the stock of dramatic pieces, both by 
 original compositions, and also by translations 
 and revisions of foreign and obsolete playsi*. 
 With the intervention of a short interval, Mr. 
 
 a 
 
 * Biographia Dramatica. 
 t See Appendix, B.
 
 Kemble continued Manager till the end of the 
 season of 1801 : the following year he devoted 
 to travel) ing, and having for his main object 
 the improvement of the scenic art, he visited 
 the cities of Paris and Madrid, where he paid 
 unremitting attention to the practice of his bro- 
 ther professors in both those capitals. During 
 his residence abroad, he received the most flat- 
 tering marks of respect and attention from socie- 
 ties and individuals of literary character*, and 
 formed an acquaintance with M. Talma, which 
 has since grown into the closest intimacy. In 
 1803, Mr. Kemble returned to England, and 
 having purchased a sixth share of the property 
 in Covent-Garden Theatre, became Manager, 
 (Mr. Lewis resigning that situation), and ap- 
 peared for the first time on those boards in the 
 character of Hamlet, on the 24th day of Septem- 
 ber, 1803. 
 
 His reception was gratifying in the extreme, 
 and was an ample proof of his popularity and 
 reputation as an Actor, which continued even 
 to increase till 1808, when, on the 20th Sep- 
 tember in that year, the destructive fire took 
 place, which in less than three hours, consumed 
 the whole interior of the building, involving the 
 Proprietors in incalculable loss By this deplor- 
 able catastrophe, in addition to the injury to 
 
 * Sec Appendix, C.
 
 XI 
 
 property, humanity had to lament the loss of 
 more than twenty lives, from the falling-in of 
 the building near the Piazza door. Various 
 anecdotes are afloat, as to the liberality of the 
 late Duke of Northumberland to Mr. Kemble 
 on this affecting occasion ; but as His Grace 
 was far above ostentation, and wished to avoid 
 notoriety for an act which was the spontane- 
 ous offering of his friendship, he doubtless re- 
 strained the object of his patronage, from any 
 public acknowledgment of his bounty. The 
 particulars of this circumstance, are therefore 
 only known to the individuals interested ; and 
 whatever idle stories may be in circulation, 
 truth and error are so mixed up in the relation, 
 that they ought to be entirely rejected. Mr. Kem- 
 ble has himself, in the dedication to a late work, 
 adverted to the fact, in terms which are enough 
 for the establishment of the Duke's munificence; 
 and the extent, which is not mentioned, could 
 add but little to the value of the act itself*. 
 
 The new Theatre rose like magic on the 
 ruins of the old, being entirely completed in 
 the small space of nine months. The founda- 
 tion stone of the new structure, received the 
 high honour of being laid by His Royal Highness 
 the Prince of Wales in person, as Grand Master 
 of the Freemasons of Great Britain, attended by 
 
 * See Appendix, D.
 
 xu 
 
 the Grand Lodge in ample form. Mr. Smirke, 
 jun. was the architect, and Mr. Copeland the 
 builder. It is not our office further to dilate on 
 the beauty or propriety of the building, than 
 simply to observe, that to Mr. Kemble's classical 
 taste, the architect is somewhat indebted for 
 many valuable suggestions in the completion of 
 that stupendous work of art. 
 
 The opening of the Theatre took place on the 
 18th September, 1809, with the Tragedy of 
 Macbeth. On the drawing up of the curtain, an 
 unfortunate squabble, between the Proprietors 
 and the Public, so well known by the title of 
 the "OP Riot," (the initials of the two words, 
 *' old prices)," broke out in acts of extraordi- 
 nary violence. It will be remembered, that the 
 offence originated in the advanced price of 
 admission, and the increased number of private 
 boxes. Without advocating; either side of the 
 question, it is but fair to state the grounds of 
 the dispute : the Public were incensed at what 
 they considered a grievous innovation, and the 
 Proprietors justified themselves, by the enormous 
 loss they had sustained from their recent cala- 
 mity, and the high price of building materi- 
 als, at the time of erecting the new Theatre. The 
 reasoning of the one party was, however, not 
 satisfactory to the other, and the altercation 
 continued for the period of sixty nights, when 
 at last a compromise was effected, by the reduc-
 
 Xlll 
 
 tion of Private Boxes, to the number in 1802; 
 by the concession of the Pit remaining- at its old 
 price ; and the Proprietors being benefited by 
 an advance of a shilling on each admission to 
 the Boxes. 
 
 Ton ard the end of the season 1811-12, Mr. 
 Kerable quitted the London Stage, for the pur- 
 pose of making a professional tour in the 
 country. 
 
 On the 11th January, 1814, being re-en- 
 gaged for a term of three years, he appeared 
 at Covent-Garden Theatre, in the character of 
 Coriolanus, and was greeted with the most extra- 
 ordinary and enthusiastic marks of applause by 
 the Audience : a Laurel Crown was thrown upon 
 the Stage, and the whole Audience rose simul- 
 taneously to welcome him. Here Mr. Kemble 
 continued till the close of his splendid career, 
 performing however, at intervals, in several of the 
 Provincial Theatres. His last performance in 
 Edinburgh, took place on Saturday, 29th of 
 March, 1817, in the part of Macbeth; on which 
 occasion, he delivered an Address, written by his 
 friend Walter Scott, Esq.* His friends in that 
 capital greeted him, for the last time, with 
 feelings of regard similar to those which 
 awaited him on his return to London, where, 
 during the last season, he performed, and 
 
 * See Appendix, E. 
 C
 
 XIV 
 
 frequently repeated many of his chief characters, 
 until he finally closed his professional labours, 
 on the 23d day of June, 1817, in the part of 
 Coriolanus ; an event accompanied by such 
 extraordinary marks of public admiration and 
 regard towards him, that the circumstances 
 attending it, and the tribute of respect which 
 followed, arc thought worthy of being recorded 
 in a subsequent part of the work. 
 
 WE have thus briefly sketched the early his^ 
 tory of Mr. Kemble's professional life, more for 
 the sake of conformity with what is generally 
 expected in a memoir of a celebrated individual, 
 than for the purpose of satisfying the curiosity 
 of the reader on points of well ascertained fact, 
 for which we may refer him to publications of 
 authenticity. 
 
 The talents and execution of Mr. Kemble as 
 an Actor, have for many years been so much the 
 object of the Critic's pen, that it would only be 
 repeating a " twice told tale," to enter into a 
 minute examination of his comparative excel- 
 lencies in those characters which have contri . 
 buted to the establishment of his general repu- 
 tation. The purport of this Essay, is briefly 
 to enquire into the qualifications which entitle 
 an Actor to become a standard of imitative ex- 
 cellence, and to shew whether Mr. Kemble pos-
 
 XV 
 
 sessed them In such a degree as to warrant his 
 being considered the Founder of a School for 
 future Students in the Art. 
 
 There seem to be three essential requisites 
 for perfection in a Tragic Actor: the first, 
 exclusively the gift of Nature ; we mean the 
 exterior advantages of figure and face, which 
 Mr. Kemble possessed in a very eminent degree. 
 
 His brow was the faithful reflector of the 
 internal workings of his mind ; there was a 
 flexibility of muscle, true to the expression of 
 the varied emotions of his soul. Althouo-h 
 peculiarly adapted for the expression of the 
 noble and heroic, yet there was a melancholy 
 sentimental composure of feature, which gave 
 the fullest tone to the delineation of manly 
 sorrow. It cannot be denied, that his fio^ure, 
 however just in symmetry, had the appearance 
 of restraint, and gave us the idea, that it 
 would cease to be pliant, if it were required to 
 be thrown into more familiar positions; but it 
 should be remembered, that this is only a con- 
 templated defect ; his form did all that he de- 
 manded of it, in that walk of the Drama which 
 he made his peculiar province, and when he did 
 draw upon it for co-operation in the exhibition 
 of a character, it was abundantly obedient. 
 
 There was something so pre-eminently ex- 
 pressive, both in Mr. Kemble's look and atti- 
 tude, that it would frequently seem unneccs- 
 
 c2
 
 XVI 
 
 sar^ for him to increase the effect, by the aid of 
 speech. Let us call to mind, for instance, his 
 proud yet conciliating deportment in the Vol- 
 scian hall. Does it not tell his story ere his 
 tongue betrays it? We there discern at once 
 an expression of deeply offended pride — of tow- 
 ering native dignity, rendered still more lofty 
 by the self-imposed act of seeking alliance with 
 an inveterate enemy, and after all, there is a 
 look indicating (not remorse), but something 
 like surprize, at finding himself in a situation 
 not wholly to be justified by circumstances. 
 
 This is only one of the many instances where 
 the exterior of the Actor is almost exclusively 
 called into play ; not that the mental faculties 
 are to be idle at the moment the effect is pro- 
 duced, but their fullest energy would be un- 
 availing, if the personal accompaniment were not 
 physically capable of receiving the impression, 
 and of thence becoming in an instant, strikingly 
 descriptive of the situation represented. 
 
 The next requisite which it seems essentially 
 necessary for an Actor to possess, is a good 
 understanding; and to this, perhaps, the subject 
 of this Essay was more indebted for the success 
 he obtained, than even for the personal qualifi- 
 cations already touched upon. The discrimi- 
 nating judgment of Mr. Kemble, not only assist- 
 ed him in the closet, in developing the true 
 meanino; of an Author's text, but it enabled him
 
 xvu 
 
 ©n the stage, to give the due and distinguish* 
 ing characteristic of each pecuHar passage. It 
 is his merit universally, to identify correctly, 
 and preserve faithfully throughout the dramatic 
 existence of every character he represented. 
 He alwavs takes care, 
 
 " Prinio ne medium, medio ne discrepet imum." 
 
 It may be, and doubtless is, frequently ob- 
 jected, that the consequence of this studious 
 discernment, is to fetter genius, and to create 
 too ofreat a sameness in the exertions of the 
 artist. It is verv true, that if thisdiscriminatins: 
 quality be not accompanied with an equally 
 vigorous power of exhibition ; then, indeed, the 
 judgment would only have the effect of prevent- 
 ing extravagance, and the Actor would be tame 
 and uninteresting. In such a case, the wild 
 excursions of genius might be preferable to the 
 repressed acting of a judicious, but ineffective 
 performer ; but Mr. Kemble left us nothing to 
 regret, either in the fullness and chastity of 
 his conception, or in the vigour and truth of his 
 expression. He took care never to give a 
 forced construction to a passage, or an over- 
 strained peculiarity to any single beauty. Ge- 
 nius may be, and indeed frequently is, power- 
 fully manifested in a start, a cadence, or a pause, 
 but each must have its limited extent, or the 
 charm is lost : the minutest point beyond pro*.
 
 xviii 
 
 priety, disorganizes the whole. He had doubt- 
 less experienced, what all have witnessed, thai 
 the same gesture, start, or pause, will at one 
 time have the whole magical effect desired; 
 and that at another, owing to some minute in- 
 describable defect in expression, it passes to- 
 tally unobserved, or comparatively ineffective : 
 he always endured to the end, and never sa- 
 crificed one part of a representation for the sake 
 of another ; yet was he not deficient in produc- 
 ing the effect of these sudden transitions, when 
 he considered it safe to display them. He could 
 occasionally shew the force of contrast in his 
 emotions, to a most wonderful extent ; witness 
 the vivid change from the agony of suspicion to 
 the relief of hope, in Posthumus, when tortured 
 by lachimo's proof of Imogens infidelity, he 
 eagerly catches at the bare suggestion of his 
 friend Philario, that the ring might have been 
 stolen by her women, and half interrupting him, 
 exclaims, 
 
 " A}e, very true !" 
 
 If it be surmised that Mr. Kemble, from his 
 strict attention to magnificence in deportment, 
 which was his proud peculiarity, was thereby 
 less effective in the delivery of passages, or even 
 in the working up of entire scenes, let us call 
 to mind his interview with Cassius, where he
 
 XIX 
 
 relates the circumstance of the death of Portia : 
 could any thing exceed the melancholy com- 
 posure, the manly resignation, with which he 
 delivered the three words, 
 
 " Portia is dead !" 
 
 In a common Actor, these words would but 
 convey the relation of a single fact! — melan- 
 choly indeed, and therefore affecting ; — ^but as 
 delivered by Mr. Kemble, they are teeming 
 with electric effect. 
 
 The manner with which he accompanies these 
 accents, is (as applicable to his own situation) 
 strongly indicative of a mind lately agonized at 
 the intelligence conveyed to it, yet chastened by 
 the philosophy with which his soul was deeply 
 embued ; as relating to Cassius, it was at once 
 a satisfactory corrective answer to the impatient 
 zeal with which he doubtingly sought to be in- 
 formed of the fact. The ardent temper of Cas- 
 sius is manifested at this period under the most 
 winning and engaging circumstances ; imme- 
 diately consequent to a reconciliation with his 
 dearest friend, uhom he had somewhat unjusti- 
 fiably endeavoured to provoke, he hears of an 
 event, which he considers as destructive of that 
 friend's future happiness. We immediately enter 
 into the feelings of compunction which must 
 have agitated him, and willingly go along with
 
 XX 
 
 him in the burst of affectionate solicitude, which 
 he displays in his enquiries after the truth of 
 the report ; but how much more are we inte- 
 rested, how readily do we abandon our sym- 
 pathy with Cassius, to be sharers in the noble 
 feeling of heroic resignation to the decrees of 
 Fate, which Brutus, represented by Mr. Kemble, 
 so powerfully displays? We consider this as 
 one of the most extraordinary effects, produced 
 perhaps more independently of the Author from 
 qualities purely in possession of the Actor, than 
 any we remember. They are such, as so entirely 
 surprise us, that our wonder is immediately 
 followed by a self-investigation, whether there 
 be not somethino' in the art itself not to be 
 accounted for; some magic in the illusion, 
 which reason cannot reconcile. The idea is but 
 transitory, for judgment comes in aid of ima- 
 gination, and informs us, that no display of 
 genius, however striking, is unattainable, or 
 even difficult, to a mind originally gifted as Mr. 
 Kemble's, enlarged, ennobled, and refined, by 
 continued cultivated taste, and indefatigable 
 labour. 
 
 In giving these instances of sudden effect, as 
 produced by Mr. Kemble, we have almost pre- 
 cluded ourselves from the solution of the ques- 
 tion, whether he has, or has not, the third re- 
 quisite, so necessary to an eminent Actor — -sen-
 
 XXI 
 
 sibility, or the power to receive impressions, and 
 the disposition to be quickly aft'ected by the 
 passions ? 
 
 We have ah'eadv shewn that he has full claim 
 to such a possession. Neither his person nor his 
 understanding alone, would otherwise have 
 enabled him to produce the effects already in- 
 stanced: his heart must have been composed 
 of the right material, or his judgment would 
 have left him bankrupt. 
 
 Are we not bound to confess, that he indispu- 
 tably held the master-key of our affections, not 
 using it indeed too frequently, lest it should 
 lose its power ; but when he did unloose them, 
 were they not wholly resigned to whatever de- 
 gree of sensation he cliose them to endure? 
 
 It were beyond the limits of a few pages, 
 dedicated to such a subject, beyond also the 
 critical talents of the Author, to enter minutely 
 into the various instances of depicted feeling, 
 which the Public have so often witnessed fi'oni 
 Mr. Kemble ; but to renew the memory of it, 
 let them call to mind his Penruddock. Was 
 not his heart so entirely possessed with the 
 situation of him he represented, that we can 
 scarcely conceive any thing in life to equal the 
 deep intensity of his sorrow ? His mind was a 
 picture of ungovernable fieeling preying upon 
 itself. His assumption of melancholy, more poig- 
 naut than reality, appeared to be stronger from 
 
 d
 
 XXll 
 
 liabit and endurance. Yet was his misery dig- 
 nified throughout ; nor did it lose any thing of 
 sympathy in the required admiration of its ele- 
 gance. On his first appearance in the play, he 
 looks \\ hat he afterwards proves to be, the care- 
 worn philosophic recluse ; not of morbid sensi- 
 bility or misanthropic selfishness, but the ill- 
 starred victim of conflicting circumstances, with- 
 drawing from the world, which the acuteness 
 of bitter remembrance forbade him to enjoy; 
 possessed of a heart severe and cruel to himself, 
 yet teeming with benevolence to his species. 
 
 If the display of other passions be required to 
 entitle him to the merit of possessing sensibility 
 in an ample degree, let us revert to his late 
 performance of Hotspur. Towards the close of 
 life, in the decline of physical strength, at a 
 time when even vanity, that powerful stimu- 
 lant, failed in urging him to continue his pro- 
 fessional exertions, he ventured to represent the 
 youthful and intemperate warrior; and so power- 
 fully did he pour tray the attributes of the cha- 
 racter, that the illusion was complete ; and 
 what was wanting in corporeal strength of mus- 
 cle, was recompensed by an increase of intellec- 
 tual vigour. 
 
 His Coriolanus too: — here we might drop 
 our pen, and say our task is ended, with the 
 bare mention of that name. Nothing new can 
 be said of that which has exhausted praise ; but
 
 XXHl 
 
 there are persons whose judgments are so 
 warped by prejudice or conceit, that though 
 they concur in the general acknowledgment, 
 they seek an excuse for coinciding, and endea- 
 vour to detract from merit, though they con- 
 fess its efficacy. By some such men it is not 
 unfrequent to hear it asserted, that the cause 
 of Mr. Kemble's excellence in this character, 
 is his close approximation to it in real life. Not 
 to deny the fact, which however we could do, 
 (for we believe the cast of Mr. Kemble's mind 
 to be as unlike that of the stern unyielding Ro- 
 man, as it is to any other of his personations) ; 
 yet they know but little of the art, who imagine 
 that the display of familiarity in a part, arises 
 solely from a correspondent natural disposition in 
 the Actor ; they ought to be informed, that ease 
 is the most difficult of attainment, and that 
 when most observable, it is the sure result 
 of deep study, corrected taste, and finished exe- 
 cution. 
 
 There is no doubt but that Coriolanus was one 
 of the first, if not decidedly the best, of Mr. 
 Kemble's performances ; but its merits had a 
 much firmer foundation than natural assimila- 
 tion. They were the fruits of a highly cultivated 
 classical taste. He had inhaled from the pages 
 of the ancient Poets and Historians, the lofty 
 inspiration of Roman dignity ; and identifying 
 himself in imagination with the hero of Corioli, 
 
 d2
 
 XXIV 
 
 he wholly abandoned the consciousness of his 
 actual self, and thought, looked, and breathed, 
 the scornful conqueror, the rejected consul, or 
 relenting patriot of Roman origin and patrician 
 blood. 
 
 Mr. Kemble has been thought by some, to carry 
 his studies of grandeur, grace, and elegance, 
 too generally throughout his performances, and 
 by his precision of style, to weaken the natural 
 effect of passages, M^hose aim it is to go directly 
 to the lieart, not having time to wait for atten- 
 dant artificial beauties. 
 
 Before we try the truth of this opinion, it 
 may not be amiss to enquire into what is now 
 generally termed "natural acting;" and to see 
 whether they who have the term so much at 
 command, do not imagine that there is a myste- 
 rious charm in the combination of the words, 
 which their real intrinsic import will not con- 
 vey. Nature herself is so much an object of ad- 
 miration, that to convert it into an epithet, is"^ 
 necessarily to attach a beauty to the subject it 
 is coupled with : but before we blindly subscribe 
 to the preference given to what is designated 
 natural acting, let us be sure that we under- 
 stand the term aright, and not fall into the 
 vulgar error, that giving rules to original 
 genius, is detracting from its spirit. 
 
 If by natural acting, is meant, the represent- 
 ing characters literally as they would be in
 
 XXV 
 
 nature, that is, in reality, with all the peculiari- 
 ties both of mind and person, which might pos- 
 sibly belong to them in life, and that to make a 
 faithful portrait, such a drawing is requisite ; 
 then must we wholly dissent from a theory, which, 
 in practice, would find an apology for extrava-. 
 gance, under the specious appearance of truth. 
 
 Playing, after all, is an art, and must be 
 studied as such : the science lies in exhibiting 
 Nature, not with perfect truth, but mellowed, 
 or heightened, so as to beget an admiration for 
 the fiction which reality does not deserve. It 
 would be no gratification to see a real king or 
 countryman upon the stage, speaking in lan- 
 guage suitable to their separate situations in life ; 
 the charm lies in seeing a man who is neither 
 the one nor the other, adapting his mind and 
 features to such a personation ; and the more 
 distant we know his real character to be from 
 that he is assuming, the greater is his merit, and 
 the more we applaud his art in the conealment. 
 
 " Artis est celarc arteni." 
 
 Nature may be copied too closely, and she will 
 then disgust. A young Actor, of modern note, 
 (whose name, for his own sake, need not be 
 mentioned), in representing the death of a cha- 
 racter, (an inference by no means deducible from 
 the Author), hit upon the expedient of holding 
 a piece of sponge in his mouth, full of some red
 
 XXVI 
 
 liquid, which he occasionally pressed, thereby 
 intending to convey the idea to the audience, 
 that the death he was feigning was occasioned 
 by the breakingof a blood-vessel. 
 
 Monstrous as this may appear, it did occur, 
 and no revolting feeling was discernible in the 
 audience at the exhibition. If such scenes are 
 to be permitted, where is the required approxi- 
 mation to Nature to stop ? The truth is, that 
 the advocates for natural representation, forget 
 w^hat Mr. Kemble always bore in mind, that it 
 is the best part of Nature only, which should be 
 faithfully given ; that stooping to represent the 
 common defects of common life, either in per- 
 son or action, degrades the character and the 
 art, and only makes that too palpable, which 
 even in reality had better be concealed. 
 
 The truth is, that the Drama itself, (particu- 
 larly Tragedy), is not, and never can be, the 
 representation of real life ; it must only not 
 be inconsistent with it. The situations of the 
 characters are generally not such as do happen, 
 but such as may in possibility occur ; the feelings 
 and sentiments expressed, are correspondently 
 enhanced in force or dignity ; and would it not 
 be highly inconsistent, and wholly destructive 
 of keeping in the picture, if in situations of 
 romantic interest, exalted sentiments were to 
 be delivered in the same tone and manner as
 
 XXV 11 
 
 familiar conversation in actual human inter- 
 course ? 
 
 While we are thus endeavouring to try the 
 truth of a theory by the force of ridicule, we 
 must be understood as only assailing the prin- 
 ciple, from its liability to abuse. Nature, we 
 know, must be imitated, and truly; but the 
 Actor, like the Artist, should chuse his subjects 
 properly. If his studies are from Nature, he 
 should take her in her best attire, whether sim- 
 ple, or adorned : she must also have endowed 
 him with the fullest powers of receiving and 
 exhibiting a faithful copy of her countenance; 
 on this basis he must add a superstructure of 
 art, composed and ornamented agreeably to the 
 best rules of intellectual architecture. 
 
 That the subject of this Essay was thus highly 
 gifted, we hesitate not to pronounce ; — that, 
 with a magnificent expression of countenance, 
 and grandeur of form, he united a correspondent 
 tone of thought and feeling; — that, from his 
 judgment, taste, and genius, displayed with 
 continued success through a brilliant professional 
 life, we are bound to consider him as a master 
 of his art; — and that so splendid a combination 
 of acquirements must entitle, to an inscription 
 on the tablet of Fame, the name of KEMBLE.
 
 N A R R A T I V E, 
 
 S)-c. Sfc. 
 
 ' . • * 5 
 
 On the evening of the 2-5th October, 1816, 
 Mr. Kemble commenced his last season of per- 
 formance, in the character of Cato. Had any 
 thing been wanting to revive those feelings of ad- 
 miration which the public mind had fostered in 
 his absence, he could not perhaps have selected a 
 character which more immediately tended to 
 refresh those remembrances than the one in ques- 
 tion, in which he is allowed on all hands to 
 stand unrivalled and alone. The merits of this 
 performance have been so frequently the subject 
 of critical approbation, that any extract from the 
 journals of the day, would merely be a repetition 
 of the public testimony in its favour, and which 
 even repetition could not strengthen. It is only 
 necessary to observe, that on this occasion there 
 was no abatement or relaxation in the energies 
 of the mental agent, or in the full investiture of 
 the character, as to outward personation, Jle 
 was, as he had ever been, the stern, severe, yet 
 philosophic Cato; and the illusion was nearly as 
 
 B
 
 2 
 
 complete, as if the inflexible Roman's spirit had 
 been again incorporated, for the purposes of 
 dramatic action 
 
 The foUcwirjg is a correct List of the Charac- 
 ters sustained by Mr. Kemble during the last 
 season of his acting, which finally terminated 
 on the 23d June, by his glorious and high- 
 wrought portraiture of the proud unyielding 
 Coriolanus. 
 
 1816. 
 
 Oct. 25. Cato. 
 
 28. Coriolanus. 
 31. Coriolanus. 
 Nov. 2. The Stranger. 
 4. Coriolanus. 
 7. Pierre. 
 9. Coriolanus. 
 15. Brutus. 
 19. Coriolanus. 
 22. Lord Townley. 
 26. Lord Townley. 
 
 Nov. 28. Coriolanus. 
 
 30. Pierre. 
 Dec. 3. King John. 
 
 6. King John. 
 
 7. King John. 
 9. Brutus. 
 
 12. King John. 
 14. King John. 
 17. Penruddock. 
 19. Coriolanus. 
 
 April22. King John. 
 24. The Stranger. 
 26. Coriolanus. 
 29. Brutus. 
 
 1817. 
 
 May 1. The Stranger. 
 6. Brutus. 
 8. Penruddock. 
 10. Coriolanus.
 
 3 
 
 May 13. Hotspur, 
 15. Cato. 
 17. Brutus. 
 
 20. Penruddock. 
 
 21. Hamlet. 
 
 22. Zanga. 
 
 23. Coriolanus. 
 27. Cardinal Wolsey. 
 29. Octavian. 
 
 SO. Leonatus Pos- 
 
 thumus. 
 31. Brutus. 
 June 2. Cardinal Wolsey. 
 
 3. Hotspur. 
 
 (Benefit of Mr. Young). 
 
 4. Cato. 
 
 5. Macbeth. 
 
 (Benefit of Mr. C. KemhlcJ. 
 
 June 7- The Stranger. 
 
 (Benefit of Miss O'Neill). 
 
 9. Brutus. 
 11. Hamlet. 
 
 (Benefit of Miss Stephens). 
 
 14. King John. 
 
 16. Hamlet. 
 
 17. Cardinal Wolsey. 
 
 (Benefit of Mr. Farley) . 
 
 19. Brutus. 
 
 (Benefit of Mrs. Gibbs). 
 
 20. Penruddock. 
 
 (Benefit of Mr. Blanchard) . 
 
 21. The Stranger. 
 *23, Coriolanus. 
 
 * See Appendix, F. 
 
 b2
 
 Tiie aiiiioiiiicement of die last appearance of 
 such a man, and in such a character, was art 
 attraction of so peculiar a nature, as at once to 
 command the attendance of a large proportion 
 of the talent and splendour of a London Audi- 
 ence, and yet at the same time to deter the gene- 
 ral frequenters of the Theatre from attempting to 
 gain admittance, from the anticipation that uni- 
 versally prevailed, of the impossibility of obtain- 
 ins: seats. The whole of the Boxes had been 
 taken a fortnight previously; and in order to 
 gratify the enthusiastic admirers of Mr. Kemble, 
 who thronged to the Box-office, impatient in 
 their demands for seats in front of the house be- 
 yond all precedent, the Orchestra was invaded 
 by persons of the first rack and literary ability, 
 amono'st the latter of whom was M. Talma. 
 
 The unanimous testimony of the daily jour- 
 nalists will perhaps afford the highest criterion 
 of the merits of this performance, and of the 
 sensation of the public mind on the occasion, and 
 they are therefore extracted and faithfully given ; 
 but we must be allowed to add our tribute of 
 homage, to the general offering of admiration 
 and condolence which alternately affected the 
 audience, as they caught, and d^velt upon those 
 brilliant touches of genius, taste, and judg- 
 ment, which Mr. Kemble produced in the exe- 
 cution of this, perhaps, his most finished effort ; 
 feeling, at the same time, obliged to chasten their
 
 6 
 
 " LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, 
 
 " I have appeared before you for the last time. 
 This night closes my long professional life. {Lilerrup- 
 Hon of " No, 710.") I am so much agitated, that I can- 
 not express with any tolerable propriety what 1 w^ish to 
 say. I feared, indeed, that I should not be able to take 
 my leave of you with sufficient fortitude, — composure, I 
 mean, — and had intended to withdraw myself from be- 
 fore you in silence; (Here Mr. Kemhle paused, and teas 
 for sometime unable to resume his speech.) — but I suffered 
 myself to be persuaded, that, if it were only from old 
 custom, some little parting word would be expected from 
 me on this occasion. — (Long continued bursts of applause. 
 Mr. Kemble, icith encreased emotion, proceeded.) Ladies 
 and Gentlemen, I entreat you to believe, that, what- 
 ever abilities I have possessed, — either as an Actor, in 
 the performance of the characters allotted to me, — or as 
 a Manager, in endeavouring at a union of propriety and 
 splendour in the representation of our best plays, and 
 particularly of those of the divine Shakspeare, — (Enthu- 
 siastic plaudits and sJioids.J — I entreat you to believe, 
 tiiat all my labours, all my studies, whatever they have 
 been, have been made delightful to me, by the appro- 
 bation with which you have been pleased constantly to 
 reward them. — (After repeated applauses, Mr. Kemble, 
 hardly able to master his emotions, continued.) 1 beg 
 you, Ladies and Gentlemen, to accept my thanks for the 
 great kindness you have invariably shewn me, from the 
 first night 1 became a candidate for public favour, down 
 to this — (Here Mr. Kemble paused an i)tstant.) — pain- 
 ful moment of my parting with you, — (It is impossible 
 to describe the mingled feelings of the audience at the 
 close of this sentence : Mr. Kemble became totally over- 
 powered, and was only able to add in a smothered, but 
 deeply penetrating, tone.)— I must take my leave at once, 
 — Ladies and Gentlemen, 1 most respectfully bid you 
 along, and an unwilling, farewell !" 
 
 At the moment of his Avithdrawing, u Scroll
 
 6 
 
 exuberant delight by the recollection, that the 
 mental treat they were then enjoying, was to 
 be a last repast. This painful conviction was 
 indeed so prevalent, that enthusiasm got the bet- 
 ter of delicacy, and on the dropping of the cur- 
 tain, nothing was to be heard but shouts of, 
 *' No farewell ! No farewell from Kemble !" — 
 During the exhibition of this influence, Mr. 
 Kemble came forward, evidently under the most 
 heart-rending sensations of gratitude and grief. 
 These he controuled with as much fortitude as 
 he could command ; but there is a manifestation 
 of kindness so overwhelming, that no heroism, 
 however true, can stand up against it. Mr. Kem- 
 ble was obliged in part to yield to this in- 
 fluence, and in the inter^^als of corrected feel- 
 ing, unaffectedly began his Address by this 
 regretted trutii: " I have now appeared before 
 you for the last time; this night closes my pro- 
 fessional life." At this moment the impulse 
 above alluded to, became more ardently dis- 
 played, and cries of, "No! No!" prevented 
 for a time the progress of Mr. Kemble's speech. 
 As some part, however, of the audience, more 
 judicious than the rest, considered that his situa- 
 tion would thus be rendered doubly painful, 
 tranquillity was at last restored, and he conti- 
 nued his Address, in the following words :
 
 traced on a piece of elegantly ornamented wliite 
 satin, to which a laurel crown was attached, was 
 passed by a gentleman in the Pit to M. Talma, 
 with a request that he would hand it over to Mr. 
 Kemble. This however was not effected in 
 time, and consequently the Scroll, of which the 
 following is a copy, remained upon the Stage. 
 
 To John Philip Kemble, Esq. of the Tlieatre Royal 
 
 Covent Garden. 
 SIR, 
 
 After having so long received from the dis- 
 play of your eminent abilities, the greatest degree of gra- 
 tification and instruction, which the highest class of 
 histrionic representation could bestow, we think upon 
 the near approach of your intended farewell to the 
 Stage, with sentiments of deep concern, and if possible, 
 an increase of respect. In justice to the interests of the 
 Drama, and our own feelings, we would fain postpone 
 the moment of a separation so painful. Fitted by the 
 endowments of Nature, and by classical acquirements, 
 by high association and the honourable ambition of ex- 
 cellence, you have, for upwards of thirty years, dignified 
 the profession of an Actor, by your private conduct and 
 public exertions in the British Capital. We beheld, in 
 your personification, the spirit of history and poetry 
 united. In embodying the characters of Shakespeare and 
 our other dramatic writers, you were not contented to 
 revive an outward show of their greatness alone. The 
 splendour of an antique costume — the helmet and armour 
 — the crown and sceptre, all that pertains to the insignia 
 of command, are easily assumed. When you appeared, 
 the habit and the man were, as soul and body. The age
 
 8 
 
 and country, in which we live, were forgotten. Tiroe 
 rolled back a long succession of centuries. The grave 
 gave up its illustrious dead. Cities and nations long 
 passed away, re-appeared ; and the elder brothers of re- 
 nown, the heroes and statesmen, the sages and nionarcht^ 
 of other years, girt in the brightness of their shadowy 
 glory, lived and loved, and fought, and bled, before us. 
 We beheld in you, not only their varying looks and 
 gestures, their proud march and grandeur of demeanour ; 
 but the elevated tone of their mind, and the flame of 
 their passions. We mean not here to enumerate the 
 various characters in which you have shone as the light 
 . of your era : but we may be allowed to say, that you ex- 
 celled in that which was most excellent; that wherever 
 the grandeur of an exalted mind was united with majesty 
 of person ; wherever the noblest organ was required for 
 the noblest expression ; wherever Nature, holding up 
 the mould of character, called for an impression from tlie 
 most precious of metals, there she looked to Kemble 
 as her gold ; there you shone with pre-eminent lustre. 
 In tlie austere dignity of Cato, the stern patriotism of 
 Bruttis; the fiery bearing of Coriulanus, and the mad in- 
 toxication of Alexander, you transported your aiullence 
 in imagination, alternately to Greece, Rome, or Baby- 
 lon. Seconded by the well-painted illusion of local 
 scenery, you seemed every where in your native city ; 
 every where contemporary with the august edifices of the 
 ancient world. In you, some of those great characters 
 lived, and we cannot conceal our apprehensions, that, 
 when you withdraw, we shall lose sight of them for a 
 long time, and, as life is short, perhaps for ever. In 
 expressing this sentiment, we feel a warm respect for 
 every Actor of genius. A mind like yours, would be 
 wounded by any compliment that was not founded in the
 
 9 
 
 most liberal sense of general desert. It is an addi- 
 tional merit in vou to have obtained distinction in an ajie 
 of refinement, and from a public qualified to appre- 
 ciate your powers. A small light shines in darkness; but 
 you have flourished amidst a circle of generous competi- 
 tors for fame, whose various abilities we admired, and in 
 wliose well-earned applause we proudly join. They be- 
 hold in the honours which your country pays to you, the 
 permanence of that celebrity which they have already so 
 deservedly acquired, and a sure pledge of the future 
 honours which await upon the close of their professional 
 career. We, therefore, earnestly entreat, that you will 
 not at once deprive the public of their gratification, and 
 the stage of your support. We entreat of you not to 
 take your final leave on the night named for your last 
 performance. All we ask, is, that you will consent to 
 perform a few nights each season, so long as your health 
 will permit. We adjure you to grant .this request, by 
 your own fame, an object which is not more dear to you 
 than it is to usj and we cenfidently rely upon your respect 
 for public o'pirtion, that you will not cover us With the 
 regret of a refusal. We have spared the annexation of 
 signatures as inadequate and unnecessary, even if our 
 numbers and restricted limits permitted that form. The 
 pealing applause of the audience, each night of your per- 
 formance, and the tinited voice which accompanies this, 
 are the best attestation of the public sentiment. 
 
 Althoiio;h the contents of the foreo^oinor had 
 not been communicated to the audience, they 
 readily caught its meaning, and impatient that 
 the object of the address should not continue 
 longer ignorant of the honours that awaited 
 him, the Manager was loudly called for ; when 
 
 c
 
 10 
 
 Mr. Fawcett made his appearance, and taking 
 up the Wreath and the Scroll, addressed him- 
 self to the House as follows : 
 
 " LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, 
 
 " I can only understand these to have been in- 
 tended as a compliment to Mr. Kenible. If it is your 
 pleasure to depute me to present them to that Gentleman, 
 you impose upon me one of the most delightful tasks it 
 has ever fallen to my lot to perform." 
 
 Whilst these mixed feelings of respect and 
 regret were prevailisig before the curtain, they 
 were still more powerfully pourtrayed on the 
 countenances, and in the hearts of Mr. Kemble's 
 professional associates behind the scenes. All 
 were contending to be foremost in their expres- 
 sions of kind condolence ; and eager to retain 
 some memorial of their long-cherished love and 
 admiration of him, earnestly solicited some 
 trifling article of his attire, which might strength- 
 en the remembrance of this interesting occasion. 
 
 Mr. Mathews, who, though in a different 
 walk of the drama, is as w ell calculated, from 
 his knowledge of the art, to appreciate the 
 merits of a tragic actor, as any of the most 
 accomplished in the profession, and with this 
 discriminating quality, had ever been an un- 
 feigned and still increasing admirer of Mr. 
 Kemble's theatrical talent, received from his
 
 11 
 
 hands the gift of his sandals ; which gave birth 
 to this very pointed witticism : " Proud as I am, 
 (said he), to have Mr. Kemble's sandals, I can 
 never hope to tread in his shoes." 
 
 Miss Bristow obtained the handkerchief Mr. 
 Kemble had used that evening on the stage, still 
 wet with the overflowings of a grateful heart, 
 which she playfully promised to keep more faith- 
 fully than Desdemona, and vowed that the tears 
 which hallowed it, should act as an embalming 
 spirit to preserve it to posterity. On Mr. Kem- 
 ble's leaving the Theatre, the stage entrance 
 was filled up by all ranks of the Dramatic Corps, 
 anxious to offer a last salutation to their vete- 
 ran Commander ; while the outside of the door 
 was thronged by individuals of all descriptions, 
 eager to catch a last glance of their tried and 
 favourite tragedian. 
 
 The papers of the following day, after stating 
 the transactions of the evening, to which we 
 have already adverted, were unanimous in their 
 approbation of the night's perfoimance ; and as 
 their concurrence is perhaps the surest test of 
 truth, the following articles are extracted from 
 those which are best calculated to be the echo 
 of the public taste. 
 
 o2
 
 12 
 
 FROM THE iMORNING CHRONICLE, 
 JUNE 24. 
 
 Mr. Kcnible performed last niglit for his benefit, and 
 took leave of the public in the character of Coriolamis. 
 The departure from the Stage of a Gentleman, to whose 
 classical taste and unwearied assiduity in the improve- 
 ment of the Stage, it is so deeply indebted; whose private 
 life is as honourable, as his talents, which have shed so 
 much lustre upon that profession of which he is the orna- 
 ment, were transcendent, is an event of no ordinary 
 interest. The crowds whom It attracted to the Theatre, 
 were, notwithstanding the extreme heat of the weather, 
 very great; the avenues were crowded at an early hour, 
 and after the opening of the doors, the House was in- 
 stantly filled. One sentiment seemed to pervade the 
 admiring thousands who assembled to catch the parting 
 rays of that effulgence which was no more to appear 
 above .the horizon ; to look, for the last time, upon that 
 departing splendour which was to be veiled from their 
 view for ever. Mr. Kcmble was greeted by a reception 
 respectful and gratifying in the extreme ; the House 
 simultaneously rose to welcome his entrance, and the 
 reiterated thunders of their salutations, for a considerable 
 time arrested the progress of the play. Every passage, 
 during the performance, which could admit of aj)plication 
 to the theatrical honours of Kemble, was eagerly caught 
 
 up, aud loudly noticed, 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 ***** 
 
 When the enthusiastic applause which followed the 
 Address, his truly affecting delivery of which was inter- 
 rupted by the strong agitations of his feelings, and by 
 the cheers of the Audience, had subsided; when we saw 
 one of the sublimest sources of our " harmless plea-
 
 13 
 
 sure" for ever closed, we then felt in its full force the 
 melanclioly regret inspired by eternal separation from an 
 old and valued friend; and unquestionable proofs were 
 displayed, that the like sense of the severity of that loss 
 was universal. 
 
 », * * *. * 
 
 We lament his retirement the more, it being in our 
 judgments, (though we presume not to question the su- 
 perior right and fitness of Mr. Kerable to decide for him- 
 self), evidently premature, with reference to his admir- 
 aj[>la abilities; for they have not yet begun to wane; — 
 sickness may have made some impression upon his once 
 athletic frame, but they have lost none of their former 
 vigour and freshness. His bodily strength is, doubtless, 
 much diminished : we did not, however, go to the 
 Theatre, to see Kemble bounding with the elasticity of a 
 fencing- master ; to witness in him, "perfections that 
 consist in bones and nerves," but the collected and pe- 
 netrating beams of strong intelligence, which were trans- 
 mitted through his every movement of body, his every 
 modulation of voice, and his every alteration of feature ; 
 and tliose characteristic and indefinable touches, that dis- 
 closed to the view of) the spectator the most latent dis- 
 positions of the heart. If his corporeal powers arc npt. 
 precisely what they have once been, his mental are ; .and> 
 as. Gicer9 observes, " non viribus cuit velocitatibus out ce-r 
 levitate corporum, res niagncB germtiir." We feel top - 
 much respect for Mr. Kemble, and too warm an interest 
 in. his fame, to wish hjs sbiy to be protracted until his 
 performances should become painful reminiscences of 
 past superiority ; bpt to suqh a dect^y of his faculties, his 
 recent excellence, in HQf,9pt^r, ^the repetition of which, 
 wasi unanimously called, for, alpne satisfactorily evinces, 
 that, tk^r«. exists no approximation. To the. styl^. o£.
 
 14 
 
 Kemble's acting, were we required to apply that epithet, 
 which seems to us most peculiarly appropriate, we should 
 say that it was highly poetical, for it breathed all the 
 lofty inspiration, it was animated by all the impassioned 
 but tempered energy, it exhibited all the eloquent cha- 
 racters of intellectual grace, it bore all the luxuriant but 
 unoppresslve richness, it embodied the grandest con- 
 ceptions with all the truth, boldness, and simplicity dis- 
 coverable in the noblest effusions of poetry, or the most 
 elaborate studies of the sculptor. To take as a subject 
 for histrionic painting, the first exhibition of natural pas- 
 sion that offers itself, and to produce a tolerable copy of 
 its most prominent features in all their unmitigated hard- 
 ness, is a work whose difficulties may be confidently en- 
 countered by second-rate ability ; but to select from the 
 forms of Nature, whatsoever is most beautiful and mag- 
 nificent, and to compose a great, a well-connected, and 
 an expressive design, demands other talents than those 
 of mere imitation. It is only by the co-operation of a 
 refined taste, a solid judgment, and a creative imagina- 
 tion, that the materials which observation has collected, 
 can be formed into illustrations of tragic poetry j reflect- 
 ing, as they ought to do, the highest attributes of the 
 soul. Here it is that Kemble stands superior. It is not 
 only in the fidelity and force with which he described the 
 gradual progression, the full violence, and the minutest 
 manifestations of the passions ; but in the consummate 
 skill with which he reconciled the utmost vehemence of 
 emotion with the most charming suavity of expression, 
 that we recognized the hand of a master, whose execu- 
 tion evinced a deep and a perfect knowledge of his art. 
 
 In viewing the fine performances of Kemble, we have 
 felt the same kind of pleasure, and have experienced a 
 renovation of the same pleasing train of ideas, into which 
 we were led while we gazed upon the immortal glories
 
 15 
 
 of the Apollo or the Laocoon. The lines of his finished 
 pictures of human character, had all the well-defined 
 firmness of those impressed by the graver, without hard- 
 ness ; and all the graceful flow and freedom of those 
 traced by the needle, without the least carelessness. 
 While depicting in the most powerful manner possible, 
 the fiercest rage, the bitterest hatred, or the wildest des- 
 peration of a perturbed spirit — while depicting, in short, 
 the '^ very whirlwind of passion," he was always at a 
 distance from the confines of extravagance ; he was al- 
 ways careful to " beget a temperance that (might) give 
 it smoothness." His acting was the finest exemplifica- 
 tion conceivable of the truth, that distortion of visage 
 and writhing of limb are ineffective in proportion as they 
 are outrageous ; that eternal starts, and chafings, and rest- 
 lessness, are significant of littleness and imbecility only; 
 that all such ingenuities are wretched substitutes for es-- 
 sential exfjression, and are, to adopt the language of 
 La Rochefoucault, " mysteries of the body, to conceal 
 the defects of the mind." To this, the manner of Kemble 
 was directly opposed. In all his numerous representa- 
 tions, there were to be remarked no laborious eftort, no 
 painful tension of his faculties, no search after extrinsical 
 embellishment, or false and conceited contrast. Every 
 thing had its distinct meaning — every look, every tone, 
 every gesture, were impressive, not only in itself, but, 
 moreover, because ihey all converged to one point — they 
 were all determined by, and had reference to, one per- 
 vading idea, which governed and influenced the whole. 
 
 Wc could dwell with infinite satisfaction upon his ex- 
 quisite delineation of the many characters with which he 
 has completely identified himself ; but of some of these 
 we may observe, that they must be considered, now that 
 he has ceased to impart life and animation to them, as 
 lost to the stage ; their resuscitation may be wished, but
 
 16 
 
 cannot be hoped for. It may be very confidently predicted, 
 that the ancient warrior and sage will not find, while the 
 recollection of Kemble shall remain unimpaired, even a 
 tolerable representative. It is surely impossible for the 
 imagination to form more sublime and poetical concep- 
 tions of whatever was most heroical in the meridian 
 greatness of Rome, than the Brutus, the Cato, and the 
 Coriolanus of that great actor. In each of the two for- 
 mer, the steady elevation of a noble soul feeling misfor- 
 tunes with a sense as keen as that of other men, but by 
 its strong resolutions subduing the ordinary emotions of 
 distress; whose inflexible virtue no self- advantage can 
 corrupt, no menaces can intimidate ; whose every action 
 bespeaks a dignified consciousness of unshaken rectitude ; 
 —•and, in the latter, the martial air, the patrician haugh- 
 tiness, the impetuous vehemence, and the towering supe- 
 riority of the valiant soldier, were pourtrayed with a 
 depth of feeling, a sustained grandeur, and an astonish- 
 ing power of expression, which defy competition, and 
 challenge the severest scrutiny of criticism. But we must 
 close these remarks, which, if we have been led on to ex- 
 tend beyond our usual limits, it has been by the pleasure 
 with which we entered upon the duty, as journalists, of 
 rendering to the public and private character of such a 
 man, a warm and merited tribute of respect and admira- 
 tion. We respectfully take our leave of Mr. Kemble, by 
 heartily wishing that he may live long to wear the laurels 
 with which he is decorated, and which, by a long and 
 brilliant career of professional excellence, he has so nobly 
 won ; that he may be attended in his retreat by uninter- 
 rupted happiness; and that "propter opes et capias et 
 dignitatem (suam) iolerabiliorem senectutem videri*." 
 
 * Cicero.
 
 17 
 
 FROM THE SUN", 
 JUNE 24. 
 
 The retirement of such an Actor as Mr. Kemble from 
 public life, constitutes such an epocha in the dramatic 
 annals of this country, as demands a particular notice. 
 The writer of this article was present at the first appear- 
 ance of Mr. Kemble on the London Stage, when he 
 came forward in the part of Hamlet. — The manly dignity 
 of his form, the marking expressions of his features, the 
 grace of his demeanour, his evidently minute study of 
 the text, and the tout ensemble of his performance, made 
 a powerful impression upon the public mind. — Coming 
 soon after the immortal Garrick, whose spirit, energy, 
 ease, truth, feeling, and nature, seemed to have identi- 
 fied in the public mind, every character which he repre- 
 sented, with the original conception of the author, Mr. 
 Kemble had an arduous task to perform. There were 
 certainly great peculiarities in his acting at first, and the 
 whole seemed to be rather marked by the nicety of study 
 than the vivid spirit of nature »nd strong ambition ; but 
 those peculiarities gradually wore away. Jt was found 
 that he was an Actor of no common powers, and no ordi- 
 nary attainments. At length he reached the height of 
 his art, and without an invidious allusion to any other 
 members of his profession, it must be acknowledged 
 that he has hitherto held possession of the theatrical 
 throne without a rival to dispute his riglitful claim. It 
 seems to have been Mr. Kcmblc's ambition to display, 
 with all possible grandeur, the works of our great Dra- 
 matic Bard, as well as his aim to distinguish himself 
 chiefly in the characters designed by thi^t unrivalled poet. 
 In this aim he has succeeded; for whatever merit he has 
 
 D
 
 18 
 
 shewn in parts formed by other writers, it is generally 
 acknowledgeU, that his excellence was principally appa- 
 rent in the works of Shakspeare. But it is not merely for 
 giving all due honour to our immortal Bard, or for his 
 merit as an Actor, that Mr. Kemblc is entitled to public 
 admiration and gratitude, for he also most assiduously 
 and most successfully endeavoured to Improve the British 
 Stage, by the introduction of the Costume of all ages, as 
 far as it was possible for it to be ascertained, and to 
 strengthen the illusions of the drama, by the utmost dis- 
 play of scenic beauty, and grandeur. Nor is this all. 
 His classical attainments, his industrious research, his 
 penetrating judgment, his extensive experience, and his 
 indefatigable zeal for the honour of his art, have induced 
 him to explore the master-pieces of our dramatic poets, 
 and to restore the text to its original purity. In private 
 life, with high qualities, and with only those occasional 
 lapses, which invariably characterise our nature, he has 
 risen into the best society which this country has pos- 
 sessed, where his varied knowledge, his urbanity, and 
 the refinement of his manners, have always placed him 
 upon an acceptable level. — But it is now time to turn to 
 the painful duty of recording the final theatrical exit of 
 this great Actor, last night, — a night appropriated to his 
 pecuniary interest, but incalculably more to his public 
 honour. On this occasion, he came forward in the clia- 
 racter of Cor'wlanuSf a character in which, according to 
 the general suffrage, he exhibited pre-eminent merit.-^ 
 It is impossible for us to present a faint idea to our 
 readers of the heart-felt esteem and admiration, which 
 seemed universally to animate the Audience, who com- 
 pletely filled the House, the orchestra having been laid into 
 the boxes. This zealous and universal testimony of re- 
 spect and admiration accompanied him throughout his
 
 19 
 
 performance, and broke forth on every occasion, in 
 which any passage of the play could be connected with 
 his character and situation. At length the curtain 
 dropped, as he was prostrate in scenic death at that pe- 
 riod. Mr. Kemble, after a short pause in his dressing- 
 room, came forward again in the attire of the hero of 
 the play. Here the general acclamations were resumed, 
 but in a manner that we never witnessed before, in all 
 the long course of our theatrical experience. It seemed 
 as if all hands struck in unison by a resistless instinct, 
 and, certainly, never were military movements executed 
 with more precision. It is impossible to describe the 
 effect. Several moments passed before there w-as any 
 chance of silence, that the last words of Mr. Kemble 
 might be generally heard. 
 
 We should observe, that during Mr. Kemble's speech, 
 in all references to his intended departure from the 
 stage, there was a loud and universal cry of " No ! No !" 
 —but he had finally resolved. — Thus closed the public 
 life of a Gentleman, who was the chief ornament of the 
 Stage, in his province, for upwards of thirty years; and, 
 who, overcome by the applause of the Audience, and 
 the excess of his own sensibility, might well have ex- 
 claimed in the words of Lord Lyttelton, as delivered by 
 Quin, on the death of his friend Thomson, 
 
 " ~ forgive this falling tear, 
 
 " Alas! 1 feel I am no Aclor here !" 
 
 We feel some pleasure in stating, that many friends 
 of Mr. Kemble attended him in his dressing-room, after 
 he had finally quitted the Stage, in order to testify their 
 esteem and regard, and to express their hope, tliat he 
 
 d2
 
 20 
 
 bad recovered from the fatigue of his performance, and 
 the agitation of his feelings ; among whom were Earl 
 Percy, Lord William Gordon, Sir Thomas Lawrence, 
 M. Talma, &c. &c. &c.; and we must add, that we never 
 saw him perform the character of Coriolanus with more 
 animation, strength, and spirit, than on this occasion, as 
 if he was determined to leave a full impression of his 
 merits on the public mind, and a model of his art for 
 his successors. 
 
 FROM THE MORNING POST, 
 JUNE 24. 
 
 Mr. Kemble's performance was such as to gratify 
 and afflict beyond any thing of the kind we ever wit- 
 nessed. All the grand poinis in this noble character 
 ( Coriolanus) y he made in his very best style, and as a 
 greater treat cannot be imagined, more sincere regret 
 could not be felt than was proved by all present, while 
 reflecting that such transcendent excellence would de- 
 light them no more. He was rapturously applauded 
 throughout, and when he fell, the repeated shouts of 
 cheering from all parts of the House were ardent and 
 ecstatic beyond any thing of the kind perhaps ever before 
 
 witnessed. 
 
 ***** 
 ***** 
 
 He (Mr. Fawcett) retired amidst the plaudits of the 
 
 whole House, which were frequently renewed in honour 
 
 of the great Actor who had just made his final bow. All 
 
 felt, that since the time of Garrick, so interesting an exit 
 
 had not been made, and seemed disposed to exclaim 
 
 with fond regret, in answer to his tearful " farewell"-— 
 
 " Tliou last of all the Romans, fare thee welll"
 
 21 
 
 FROM THE TIMES, 
 JUNE ^5. 
 
 Mr. Kemble took his leave of the Stage on Monday 
 night, in tlie character of Coriolanus. On his first com- 
 ing forward to pronounce his Farewell Address, he was 
 received with a shout like thunder : on his retiring after 
 it, the applause was long before it subsided entireh' 
 away. There is something in these partings with old 
 public favourites exceedingly affecting. They teach us 
 the shortness of human life, and the vanity of human 
 pleasures. Our associations of admiration and delight 
 with theatrical performers, are among our earliest recol- 
 lections — among our last regrets. They are links that 
 connect the beginning and the end of life together; 
 their bright and giddy career of popularity measures the 
 arch that spans our brief existence. It is near twenty 
 years ago since we first saw Mr. Kemble in the same 
 character — yet how short the interval seems ! The im- 
 pression appears as distinct as if it were of yesterday. 
 In fact, intellectual objects, in proportion as they are 
 lasting, may be said to shorten life. Time has no effect 
 upon them. The petty and the personal, that which 
 appeals to our senses and our interests, is by degrees 
 forgotten, and fades away Into the distant obscurity of 
 the past. The grand and the ideal, that which appeals 
 to the imagination, can only perish with it, and remains 
 with us, unimpaired in its lofty abstraction, from youth 
 to age ; as, wherever we go, we still see the same hea- 
 venly bodies shining over our heads ! We forget num- 
 berless things that have happened to ourselves, one ge- 
 neration of follies after another ; but not the first time 
 of our seeing Mr. Kemble, nor shall we easily forget 
 the last ! Coriolanus, the character in which he took
 
 22 
 
 his leave of the Stage, was one of the first in which we 
 rememher to have seen him ; and it was one in which 
 we were not sorry to part with him, for we wished to 
 see him appear like himself to the last. Nor was he 
 wanting to himself on this occasion : he played the part 
 as well as he ever did — with as much freshness and vi- 
 gour. There was no abatement of spirit and energy — 
 none of grace and dignity : his look, his action, his ex- 
 pression of the character, were the same as they ever 
 were : they could not be finer. It is mere cant to say 
 that Mr. Kemble has quite fallen off of late — that he is 
 not what he was : he may have fallen off in the opinion 
 of some jealous admirers, because he is no longer in ex- 
 clusive possession of the Stage : but in himself he has 
 not fallen off a jot. Why then do we approve of his 
 retiring ? Because we do not wish him to wait till it is 
 necessary for him to retire. On the last evening, he 
 displayed the same excellences, and gave the same pro- 
 minence to the very same passages, that he used to do. 
 We might refer to his manner of doing obeisance to his 
 mother in the triumphal procession in the second act, 
 and to the scene with Avfidius in the last act, as among 
 the most striking instances. The action with which he 
 accompanied the proud taunt to Aujidius — 
 
 " Like an eagle in a dove-cote, I 
 
 " Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli; 
 
 " Alone I did it—" 
 
 gave double force and beauty to the image. Again, 
 where he waits for the coming of Aufidius in his rival's 
 house, he stood at the foot of the statue of Mars, him- 
 self another Mars ! In the reconciliation scene with 
 his mother, which is the finest in the play, he was not 
 equally impressive. Perhaps this was not the fault of 
 Mr. Kemble, but of the Stage itself, which can hardly
 
 23 
 
 do justice to such thoughts and sentiments as here 
 occur : 
 
 " My mother bows : 
 
 " As if Olympus to a mole-hill should 
 
 " In supplication nod." 
 
 Mr. Kemble's voice seemed to faint and stagger, to be 
 strained and cracked^ under the weight of this majestic 
 image : but, indeed, we know of no tones deep or full 
 enough to bear along the swelling tide of sentiment it 
 conveys ; nor can we conceive any thing in outward 
 form to answer to it, except when Mrs. Siddons played 
 the part of Volumnia. We may on this occasion be ex- 
 pected to say a few words on the general merits of Mr. 
 Kemble as an Actor, and on the principal characters he 
 performed ', in doing which, we shall 
 
 " Nothing extenuate, 
 
 " Nor set down aught in malice." 
 
 It has always appeared to us, that the range of charac- 
 ters in which Mr. Kemble more particularly shone, and 
 was superior to every other Actor, were those which 
 consisted in the developement of some one solitary sen- 
 timent or exclusive passion. From a want of rapidity, 
 of scope, and variety, he was often deficient in express- 
 ing the bustle and complication of different interests j 
 nor did he possess the faculty of overpowering the mind 
 by sudden and irresistible bursts of passion : but in giv- 
 ing the habitual workings of a predominant feeling, as 
 in Penruddockf or The Stranger, in CoriolanuSy Cato, 
 and some others, where all the passions move round 
 a central point, and are governed by one master-key, 
 he stood unrivalled. Peiiruddodc, in The Wheel of 
 Fortune, was one of his most correct and interesting 
 performances, and one of the most perfect on the mo- 
 dern stage. The deeply-rooted, miid, pensive melan- 
 choly of the character, its embittered recollections, and
 
 24 
 
 dignified benevolence, were conveyed by Mr. Kemble 
 with equal truth, elegance, and feeling. In The Stranger, 
 again, which is in fact the same character, he brooded 
 over the recollection of disappointed hope till it became 
 a part of himself; it sunk deeper into his mind the 
 longer he dwelt upon it ; his regrets only became more 
 profound as they became more durable. His person was 
 moulded to the character. The weight of sentiment 
 which oppressed him was never suspended : the spring 
 at his heart was never lightened — it seemed as if his 
 whole life had been a suppressed sigh ! So in Coriola- 
 nus, he exhibited the ruling passion with the same un- 
 shaken firmness, he preserved the same haughty dig- 
 nity of demeanour, the same energy of will, and un- 
 bending sternness of temper throughout. He was 
 swayed by a single impulse. His tenaciousness of pur- 
 pose was only irritated by opposition ', he turned neither 
 to the right nor the left ; the vehemence with which he 
 moved forward increasing every instant, till it hurried 
 him on to the catastrophe. In Leontes, also, in The 
 Winter's Tale (a character he at one time played often), 
 the growing jealousy of the King, and the exclusive pos- 
 session which this passion gradually obtains over his 
 mind, were marked by him in the finest manner, parti- 
 cularly where he exclaims — 
 
 " Is whispering nothing ? 
 
 " Is leaning cheek to cheek ? Is meeting noses ? 
 
 " Kissing with inside lip ? Stopping the career 
 
 " Of laughter with a sigh (a note infallible 
 
 " Of breaking honesty)? Horsing foot on foot? 
 
 " Skulking in corners ? Wishing clocks more swift? 
 
 " Hours minutes ? Tlie noon midnight? and all eyes 
 
 " Blind with the pin and web, but their's; their'sonly, 
 
 " That would unseen be wicked ? Is this nothing ? 
 
 " Why then the world and that's in't is nothing, 
 
 " The covering sky is nothing, Bohemia's nothing, 
 
 " My wife is nothing, if this be nothing !"
 
 25 
 
 In the course of this enumeration, every proof told 
 stronger, and followed with quicker and harder strokes ; 
 his conviction became more rivettcd at every step of his 
 progress; and at the end, his mind, and " every corpo- 
 ral agent," appeared wound up to a phrenzy of despair. 
 In such characters, Mr. Kemble had no occasion to call 
 to his aid either the resources of invention, or the tricks 
 of the art : his success depended on the increasing inten- 
 sity with which he dwelt on a given feeling, or enforced 
 
 a passion that resisted all interference or controul. 
 
 ***** 
 ***** 
 
 In Macbeth^ Mr. Kemble was unequal to " the tug 
 and war" of the passions which assail him : he stood as 
 it were at bay with fortune, and maintained his ground 
 too steadily against " fate and metaphysical aid;" instead 
 of staggering and reeling under the appalling visions of 
 the preternatural world, and having his frame wrenched 
 from all the holds and resting places of his will, by the 
 stronger power of imagination. In the latter scenes, how- 
 ever, he displayed great energy and spirit ; and there 
 was a fine melancholy retrospective tone in his manner 
 of delivering the lines, 
 
 " My way of life has fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf," 
 
 which smote upon the heart, and remained there ever 
 after. His Richard III. wanted that tempest and whirl- 
 wind of the soul, that life and spirit, and dazzling ra- 
 pidity of motion, which fills the stage, and burns in 
 every part of it, when Mr, Kean performs this character. 
 To Mr. Kean's acting in general, we might apply the 
 lines of the poet, where he describes 
 
 " The fiery soul that, working out its way, 
 " Fretted the pigmy body to decay, 
 " And o'er-inforin'd the tenement of clay." 
 
 K
 
 26 
 
 Mr. Kemble's manner, on the contrary, had always 
 something dry, hard, and pedantic in it. " You shall 
 relish him more in the scholar than the soldier :" but 
 his monotony did not fatigue, his formality did not dis- 
 please; because there was always sense and meaning in 
 what he did. The fineness of Mr. Kemble's figure may 
 be supposed to have led to that statue-like appearance, 
 which his acting was sometimes too apt to assume : as 
 the diminutiveness of Mr. Kean's person has probably 
 compelled him to bustle about too much, and to at- 
 tempt to make up for the want of dignity of form, by 
 the violence and contrast of his attitudes. If Mr. Kem- 
 ble were to remain in the same posture for half an hour, 
 his figure would only excite admiration : if Mr. Kean 
 were to stand still only for a moment, the contrary effect 
 would be apparent. One of the happiest and most spi- 
 rited of all Mr. Kemble's performances, and in which 
 even his defects were blended with his excellences to 
 produce a perfect whole, was his Pierre. The dissolute 
 indifference assumed by this character, to cover the 
 darkness of his designs, and the fierceness of his revenge, 
 accorded admirably with Mr. Kemble's natural manner ; 
 and the tone of morbid rancorous raillery, in which 
 Pierre delights to indulge, was in unison with the actor's 
 reluctant, contemptuous personifications of gaiety, with 
 the scornful spirit of his Comic Muse, which always 
 laboured — invlta Minerva — against the grain. Cato was 
 another of those parts for which Mr. Kemble was pecu- 
 liarly fitted by his physical advantages. There was no- 
 thing for him to do in this character, but to appear in it. 
 It had all the dignity of still life. It was a studied piece 
 of classical costume — a conscious exhibition of elegantly 
 disposed drapery, that was all : yet, as a mere display 
 of personal and artificial grace, it was inimitable.
 
 27 
 
 ii -^ * m * 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 In short, we think the distinguishing excellence of his 
 acting may be summed up in one word — intensity; in 
 the seizing upon some one feeling or idea, in insisting 
 upon it, in never letting it go, and in working it up, 
 with a certain graceful consistency, and conscious gran- 
 deur of conception, to a very high degree of pathos or 
 sublimity. If he had not the unexpected bursts of na- 
 ture and genius, he had all the regularity of art ; if he 
 did not display the tumult and conflict of opposite pas- 
 sions in the soul, he gave the deepest and most perma- 
 nent interest to the uninterrupted progress of individual 
 feeling; and in embodying a high idea of certain cha- 
 racters, which belong rather to sentiment than passion, 
 to energy of will, than to loftiness or to originality of 
 imagination, he was the most excellent Actor of his time. 
 This praise of him is not exaggerated : the blame we 
 have mixed with it is not invidious. We have only to 
 add to both, the expression of our grateful remembrances 
 and best wishes — Hail and farewell! 
 
 FROM BELL'S WEEKLY MESSENGER, 
 JUNE 29. 
 
 On Monday night last, Mr. Kemble took his leave of 
 the public, in the ciiaracter of Coriolamis, He sustained 
 the part throughout with as much vigour as wc have 
 seen him exert on any former occasion. The applause 
 which he received was enthusiastic in the extreme, and 
 when the curtain dropped, the Pit rose up in a body, 
 and continued waving hats and laurels for several mi- 
 nutes. 
 
 As Mr. Kemble has taken leave of the stage, the 
 
 b2
 
 28 
 
 Town, as far as the Drama is concerned, must take its 
 leave of him, and each, we presume, will bid the fare- 
 well with equal regret. In many jjoints of view, Mr. 
 Kemble was such as we cannot hope to see again. 
 
 We fully remember when we first saw Mr. Kemble 
 upon the London stage. At that time he appeared to us 
 as having more art than nature; and being ourselves but 
 young critics, and judging more from feeling than from 
 principles, we regarded him as departing from propriety, 
 in the same degree in which we saw him removed from 
 this character of nature, as it existed in our own minds. 
 We compared him with our own notions, — indeed with 
 our own knowledge of the prototype in nature, of the 
 parts and sentiments which he acted; we saw immedi- 
 ately, that the performance and the reality had very little 
 resemblance, and that we had never seen any one act, 
 look, and speak, as we beheld in him. When we saw 
 him a second time, we began to understand the source 
 of our error, and the character of his excellence. We 
 perceived that his whole performance was an art, and 
 that this art consisted of rules which he had closely stu- 
 died, and by considerable skill had made them his own ; 
 that he had departed intentionally from simple nature, 
 because he had seen that nature, artificially combined, 
 vv^ould produce a greater effect ; that his performance, 
 therefore, was not to be judged by its resemblance to or- 
 dinary nature and general character, but by its confor- 
 mity with what nature would appear and become, under 
 certain selected accompaniments. We then saw, that 
 acting, like poetry, should take its subject from select 
 nature, and that an actor, like a poet, a painter, or a 
 lover, would never have the genuine feelings, spirit, and 
 genius of his art, unless he formed himself by a beau 
 ideal in his own imagination. It was then, and not till
 
 29 
 
 then, that we began to do justice to Mr. Kemble, and 
 to acknowledge that his art, Hke that of Zeuxis, consisted 
 in selecting beauties wherever he found them, and then 
 uniting them, according to nature, in a whole, of which 
 every part was natural, but the composition artificial. 
 
 The Coriolanus of Mr. Kemble has frequently been 
 before the town, and amongst all who are fitted to 
 judge, and all who were capable of understanding and 
 feeling, there was never but one opinion. He entered 
 into the conception of the poet, and gave us a Roman, 
 such as Virgil would have drawn him. It is impossible 
 to conceive any thing of more majesty. It was an epic 
 painting, — not of what Rome was, and still less of what 
 Coriolanus was ; but of that beau ideal of Rome and 
 Coriolanus, which existed in the imagination of Virgil, 
 of Shakspeare, and of Mr. Kemble. 
 
 This is, in fact, the true art of painting and acting, 
 which is not the less natural because it is art ; it is se- 
 lect and not ordinary nature ; it is nature as it might be, 
 and as it certainly sometimes, and in some persons, has 
 been, but not as we see it every day, and in every great 
 man. The same remarks will apply to his Cato. It is 
 the Cato of the poets ; the Cato whom Lucan had on 
 one side when he put the gods on the other; the Cato 
 who took up the vanquished side, whilst the gods adopted 
 the fortunate party. There was nothing of nature in 
 this, and by nature, therefore, it is not to be judged. 
 
 In Cardinal Wolsey, Mr. Kemble approached to us 
 as a natural character, and accordingly he was always 
 seen in this part with feeling and sympathy. In Lear, 
 as far as the character admitted it, he was equally touch- 
 ing and equally natural; and in Macbeth, he was great, 
 without ceasing to be natural. In Hamlet, by a calm 
 and philosophical declamation in the highest point of
 
 30 
 
 elegance and refinement, he atoned for the want of fire 
 and the force of constitutional temperament. In all 
 these characters we have no hope of seeing his place 
 again properly filled. He knew so well what was the 
 nature of any feeling, and of any passion, that no one 
 (as far as his physical powers allowed) could give it so 
 readily and so faithfully ; and the same knowledge and 
 the same study allov/ed him to take liberties, which would 
 be dangerous in another. Having this groundwork, he 
 seldom fell into the mere trick of the stage, and even in 
 all his varieties in the same passion, he never passed be- 
 yond the natural key. 
 
 We have only to repeat our wishes for his health and 
 welfare, and our hopes that his retirement will be em- 
 ployed in that suitable purpose for which we could alone 
 have recommended it. 
 
 FROM THE NEWS, 
 JUNE 29. 
 
 On Monday night we finally parted with the Master 
 of the Tragic Scene — the most graceful, majestic, and 
 classical pillar, which, for the last 20 years, has sup- 
 ported the Fane of the Tragic Muse — Mr. Kemble bade 
 adieu to the stage and the public. Even if our limits 
 would allow of expatiation, we could write on this sub- 
 ject, only to discover the inadequacy of our vocabulary, to 
 do justice to the great man we have lost, to our feelings of 
 personal gratitude and regret, or to our full sense of the 
 loss which the Drama has sustained, by this secession of 
 its main ornament, and support. A few words we can- 
 not withhold. It is needless to say, that the House over-
 
 31 
 
 flowed in all corners, or that one sentiment, and one 
 mode of fervent expression burst from every part of it. 
 * Ik *, * * 
 
 It is far from our intention to recapitulate, what we 
 have so often formerly written on the various excellences 
 of Mr. Kemble, as they have been displayed in his wide 
 range of distinguished characters. The task, a tempt- 
 ing one, 'tis true, is the less necessary, from the admir- 
 able, and, with some modifications, the just manner 
 in which it has been executed by a critic, in a con- 
 temporary journal*. It is sufficient to remark, by way 
 of characterizing shortly the distinctive superiority of 
 Mr. Kemble as a tragedian, that he was gifted with 
 a figure, and a countenance of the rarest dignity, 
 the most striking nobleness, and the most imposing 
 grace, which seemed to survive, as it were to us mo- 
 derns, to refresh our conceptions of the forms of an- 
 tique mould; that the intellect of no common order 
 which informed this noble tenement in the course of an 
 inquisitive and tasteful range of study, had been con- 
 centrated by Mr. Kemble, unremittingly towards the 
 pursuits of his profession ; that this put him in posses- 
 sion, in an extraordinary degree, of all that might re- 
 motely or immediately illustrate his representations on 
 the Stage : classical attainment, chastened taste, diffused 
 information, all that contributes to mental accomplish- 
 ment. His style of acting was replete with the evidence 
 of these advantages. It was nervous, severe, pure, 
 classical, racy, and refined. It bespoke patient study 
 and laborious research, as well as natural intellect, and 
 the felicity of genius. Though its masterly vigour 
 struck all minds, its scholastic polish and rigid taste, 
 
 * The Time?.
 
 32 
 
 niado it peculiarly attractive to those of cultivation and 
 refinement, and if a fantastic and licentious manner of 
 modern rise, has been thought by many to approacli 
 nearer to the freedom of nature, we are convinced, that 
 its greatest success has not been amongst the last 
 described persons. In characters of Roman dignity and 
 martial pomp, the grandeur of Mr. Kemble's form, con- 
 curred with the grace of his movements, and the dig- 
 nity of his declamation, to produce the most perfect and 
 splendid effect. In these parts he was evidently most 
 popular, though we think there were others, in which 
 his merits were equally great. In displaying the dignity 
 of suffering greatness, the torture of intense and agonized 
 emotion, the settled grief of afflicting reminiscences, 
 the pomp of ambition, the grandeur of stoical virtue, 
 the relentings of nature, breaking through the severity 
 of pride or anger, Mr. Kemble by turns astonished, 
 overwhelmed, penetrated, and melted the bosoms of his 
 audience. There was a precision and sure effect in the 
 touches of his style, vvhich were the result at once of 
 skill and of study. His manner has been often called 
 classical, probably from his having often acted classical 
 characters, and from loose associations, connected with 
 his figure and appearance. But the epithet has a deeper 
 and more appropriate application. His style was essen- 
 tially classical, distinguished by the unity of design, the 
 severe grandeur, and the majestic simplicity which cha- 
 racterized the fine arts in the classic ages. It had no- 
 thing in it of the modern school, nothing of the romantic 
 or the sentimental, no minor beauties, no second- rate 
 decorations ; it was massive, grand, severe and lofty, a 
 whole, of majestic beauty and classic grace. The loss 
 which the Stage has sustained, will be manifest to every 
 one who looks to Mr. Kemble, or to those he has left 
 behind him ; and we are almost inclined to think, that
 
 33 
 
 we shall not be disparaging the past, and hardly augur- 
 ing too despondingly of the future, if we conclude with 
 the poet's words — 
 
 Nil criturum alias, nil ortuiu tale fatentes. 
 
 In addition to these concurring testimonies in 
 favour of Mr. Kemble's last performance, by 
 otherwise opposing Critics, the following offer- 
 ing from the Muses, who could scarcely be 
 silent on a subject so closely connected with one 
 of the Sisterhood, appeared in the daily journals. 
 
 •' TRIBUTE TO A DEPARTED ACTOR." 
 
 FROM THE MORNING CHRONICLE. 
 
 BY JAMES SMITH, ESQ.* 
 
 Ye Critics, who, prone to illumine the nation. 
 Made mirth of his pauses, and cold declamation, 
 His regular cadence delighted to probe, 
 And scoff at the finical fold of his robe; 
 Since now all abroad are his classical plays, 
 On the margin of Avon, mere waifs and estrays, 
 Come, cast them anew in your wisdom, and tcH 
 The man on our Stage who can act them so well. 
 Ye rival Tragedians, who flutter your night, 
 Hurl'd up by the crowd for a holiday siglit, 
 The squibs of a season — how fleetly ye pass, 
 Like the fugitive forms o'er a magical glass ! 
 
 * One of the Authors of the Rejected Addresses. 
 F
 
 84 
 
 But Kemble alone could this privilege boast, 
 
 Who saw him the oftenest, lik'd him the most. 
 
 From boyhood to manhood, fast bound in thy spell, 
 
 With sorrow I part from thee — Kemble, farewell ! 
 
 What tho' thy deportment acquaintance bespeaks. 
 
 With Ihose out of vogue vagrants, the Romans and Greeks j 
 
 Denotes some dislike to the now reigning school. 
 
 And seems just to hint, that the Town is a fool : 
 
 What tho' thy Macbeth, in familiar pet. 
 
 Ne'er cried to the Witches, " Hail fellow, well met 1" 
 
 Was shrewdly suspected of study and grace, 
 
 And tried, and found guilty of figure and face : 
 
 Those faults I attribute to Nature, and shun 
 
 To visit the sins of the sire on the son. 
 
 Old Shakspeare in heaven, to fame still alive, 
 
 Rejoic'd to behold thee his dramas revive. 
 
 When dead, shall receive thee aloft in the sky. 
 
 And thus, if I prophecy rightly, shall cry : 
 
 " Oh welcome, thrice welcome ! by Providence placM 
 
 " In regions of liberty, science, and taste ; 
 
 " Here dwelksliid the chosen of Genius above, 
 
 " And share with my Garrick, my heart and my love. 
 
 " And yet, how my pleasure is shadow'd with woe, 
 
 " When I think on the fate of my offspring below ! 
 
 " My darling Othello, my blood-tainted Thane, 
 
 *' My Richard, my Lear, my poor lunatic Dane, 
 
 " To the slow-winding Avon shall nightly repair, 
 
 " And hang on its willows their harps in despair. 
 
 " Depriv'd, in thy death, of a guardian and friend, 
 
 " With spirit to decorate, taste to amend, 
 
 " Oh when, upon earth, shall my tragedies see, 
 
 " Protectors and Actors — like Garrick and thee ?"
 
 So 
 
 ODE 
 
 ON THE 
 
 RETIREMENT OF JOHN PHILIP KEMBLE. ESQ. 
 
 FROM THE STAGE. 
 BY JOHN TAYLOR, ESQ.* 
 
 The Tragic Muse had sunk in grief. 
 That seem'd almost to spurn relief. 
 
 When Siddons left the stage ; 
 Yet was she sooth'd, as Kemble still 
 Remain'd, her Shakspeare's scenes to fill 
 
 With dignity or rage. 
 
 His Brutus she beheld with awe, 
 And stern Coriolanus saw 
 
 With all his lofty mien ; 
 Time seem'd in backward course to glide, 
 And Rome to rise in ancient pride. 
 
 To grace Britannia's scene : 
 
 The piteous woe of frantic Lear, 
 The direness, yet compunctious fear, 
 
 That marks the ambitious Thane, 
 Malignant Richard's savage ire, 
 John's baleful gloom, and Percy's fire — 
 
 But chief the Princely Dane. 
 
 Nor less his zeal, acute and sage. 
 To clear the text of cank'ring age, 
 
 And brighten ev'ry line — 
 A praise which few with him can share — 
 That Avon's Bard, the Nation's care. 
 
 In purest light may shine. 
 
 * Proprietor of the Sun Newspaper. 
 
 f2
 
 BCJ 
 
 'J'he Muse, his worth thus pond'ring o'er. 
 His form majestic, classic lore. 
 
 Then utter'd with a sigh : 
 " Alas 1 my lofty scenes, I fear, 
 " Which now in living truth appear, 
 
 " Will soon with Kemble die ! 
 
 " Too soon the scenic sphere he leaves, 
 " Too soon tlie public he bereaves 
 
 *' Of Shakspeare's breathing page ; 
 " Too soon, like Siddons, he retires, 
 *' While glowing with his wonted fires, 
 
 " And unsubdu'd by age. 
 
 " Too soon he quits an art, design'd 
 " To charm and moralize mankind, 
 
 *•' Where Pleasure leads to Right ; 
 " An art which, could that Bard inspire, 
 " From whom all other Bards retire. 
 Lost in his glorious light. 
 
 a 
 
 " Hail to that art, in early time 
 " By me inspir'd, august, sublime, 
 
 " Religion's aid below, 
 " That man reflects through all his course, 
 " Makes conscious Guilt feel keen remorse, 
 
 *' And conscious Virtue glow. 
 
 " And hail to him, whose ardent aim 
 " To give that art its noblest fame, 
 
 " In splendour rais'd it high ; 
 *' So high, had Fortune been inclin'd 
 " To aid his bold and pregnant mind, 
 
 " With Athens it might vie.
 
 37 
 
 ** But with consoling joy I find, 
 
 *' Taste, judgment, friendship, have comhin'd 
 
 " To dedicate a dav, 
 *' With emulative zeal to meet, 
 *' Genius to grace on his retreat, 
 
 " And well-earn'd honours pay." 
 
 Thus spoke the Muse, and while we share 
 Her fond regret, be now our care 
 
 A just and grateful deed — 
 Let then at once this social band 
 Rise, with the votive glass in hand. 
 
 To " Kemble's health" decreed. 
 
 Distant, long distant, be the day 
 That calls him from life's stage away, 
 
 Where, well-perform'd his part, 
 Where, far aloof from vulgar strife. 
 He shone the grace of private life. 
 
 The model for his art. 
 
 But when her awful curtain. Fate 
 Shall drop upon his mortal state. 
 
 May he depart serene — 
 Depart as much devoid of pain 
 As those whom he so oft had slain 
 
 Upon the mimic scene. 
 
 And let the last recording stave, 
 Inscrib'd upon his honour'd grave. 
 
 Declare, with no parade, 
 " Here lies the Man who, when his art 
 " Assum'd a wise and noble part, 
 
 " It then HIMSELF display'd." 
 
 *>*1)52(>
 
 38 
 
 We have now to record the origin and pro- 
 gress of one of the most sincere and gratifying 
 compliments, that perhaps was ever passed upon 
 any individual, whose services and merits are 
 confined to so narrow a sphere of action as the 
 profession of the Stage presents. On the first 
 public announcement of Mr. Kemble's intention 
 to retire at the close of the late season, the idea, 
 no doubt, generally prevailed among persons 
 of theatrical taste, that some public tribute of 
 honour was due to him, who had for so many 
 years contributed both personally, and by his 
 classical researches, to heighten, improve, and 
 dignify the Art itself, and the character of the 
 Profession ; but there is a wide difference be- 
 tween feeling an impulse, and executing the 
 action prompted by it. The merits of the lat- 
 ter, in this instance, is due to a small Society 
 of Literary and Dramatic Friends, who had as- 
 sociated themselves into a Club, which, though 
 not boasting of that combination of talent that 
 rendered the days of Johnson and Goldsmith 
 equally memorable as the aera of wit and more 
 solid philosophy, can still arrogate to itself a 
 similar quality in its constitution, to the " Li- 
 terary Club" of that period, whose object it was 
 to soften by fellowship and good humour, those 
 severer dispositions, which the duties and strug- 
 gles of life too frequently engender. At one of 
 these meetings above alluded to, the suggestion
 
 89 
 
 was no sooner made, of some public tribute ol 
 respect and regard being due to Mr. Kemble, 
 on the contemplated event of his retirement from 
 the Stage, than the propriety, and even necessity 
 of it, was immediately felt ; and the idea was 
 followed up by a Resolution, that the Members 
 of the Club, consisting of the following Gentle- 
 men, should form themselves into a temporary 
 Committee, for the purpose of considering the 
 best mode of effecting this desirable object. 
 
 R. Stephenson, Esq. 
 A. Rae, Esq. 
 J. Poole, Esq. 
 
 Wm. Walker, Esq, 
 Wm. Simpson, Esq. 
 
 W. H.W.Betty, Esq. 
 J. St. Aubyn, Esq. 
 I. A. Urquhart, Esq. 
 Thomas Cooke, Esq. 
 C. Kemble, Esq. 
 
 C. Mathews, Esq. I H. R. Willett, Esq. 
 
 Honourable George Lambe. 
 
 The next step was to call a more general 
 meeting of the friends and admirers of Mr. 
 Kemble, which was done by the following Letter, 
 dispersed pretty generally amongst people of 
 theatrical taste and inclination. 
 
 " The Admirers of the Drama, who may duly appre- 
 ciate the benefit it has derived from the unwearied aim 
 at its improvement, which Mr. Kemble has manifested 
 during a long period of classical research ; and the lovers 
 of the theatric art, who call to recollection the repeated 
 gratification they have experienced throughout his ca- 
 reer of professional excellence, are invited to unite them- 
 selves in paying some tribute of respect to him on his
 
 40 
 
 retirement from the Stage. It is intended to invite Mr. 
 Kemble to a Dinner to be given on the occasion, at 
 which to present him with a piece of Plate, already under 
 the hand of the first Artist in design. 
 
 "The Tickets, including the Dinner and Present, will 
 be issued at Two Guineas ; and Gentlemen wishing to 
 subscribe, are requested to transmit their names to the 
 Committee, at the Piazza Coffee House." 
 
 This Letter produced the desired effect, and 
 there was a full attendance of the above descrip- 
 tion of persons, when the following Gentlemen 
 were added to the original Committee ; and it 
 was resolved, that Meetings should be held 
 every Tuesday and Friday, at the Piazza Coffee 
 House, for arranging and conducting the cele- 
 bration of the intended honours. 
 
 Wm. Abbott, Esq. 
 G. Bartley, Esq. 
 Wm. Dowton, Esq. 
 C. Farley, Esq. 
 J. Fawcett, Esq. 
 R. Jones, Esq. 
 Edmund Kean, Esq. 
 
 J. Liston, Esq. 
 Wm. Shield, Esq. 
 
 C. Taylor, Esq. 
 
 D. Terry, Esq. 
 T. Welch, Esq. 
 C. Young, Esq. 
 
 Mr. Walker and Mr. Urquhart were selected 
 as Joint Secretaries. 
 
 A detail of each day's proceedings is not 
 deemed sufficiently interesting to be worthy of 
 insertion ; but as the great object of the Com- 
 mittee was to concentrate the rank, talent, and 
 taste of the Metropolis, in completing the List
 
 41 
 
 of Subscribers, and not to solicit the junction 
 of the public in general by advertisement or 
 otherwise, it will not be thought extraordinary 
 that such frequent meetings were considered 
 necessary, and that even then, it required con- 
 siderable attention and arrangement, in receiv- 
 ing applications, and selecting, without giving 
 offence, those names which might be thought 
 most capable of adding importance to the object 
 of the Meeting. 
 
 Lord Holland having been solicited to take 
 the Chair, and having expressed himself ex- 
 tremely happy in being applied to, the follow- 
 ing Letter of Invitation was prepared by Mr. 
 Urquhart, one of the Secretaries, and trans- 
 mitted to Mr. Kemble, to which he replied, in 
 the words of the answer subjoined. 
 
 Piazza Coffee House, May 24, 1817. 
 
 To John Philip Kemble, Esq. 
 SIR, 
 
 We, the humble Votaries of an Art of wlilch you liavc so 
 long been the ornament, and the enthusiastic- admirers of 
 tlie Drama, which is in every way so much indebted to you 
 for its perfection, duly estimating the loss we shall each 
 sustain by your retirement from the Stage, yet glowing 
 with heart-felt delight at the recollection of the benefit 
 and entertaintmcnt we have respectively derived duriiu? 
 your long professional career, are earnestly desirous of 
 shewing you some mark of our respect and regard on 
 this lamented, yet memorable occasion. We are aware of 
 
 a
 
 42 
 
 the Impossibility of effecting our object to the extent of 
 our wishes ; but in proportion to the inadequacy of the 
 offering, will be the favour conferred on us by your rea- 
 diness to accept it. Permit us, therefore, to request the 
 honour of your company at Dinner, on a day which we 
 beg of you to name, as most agreeable to yourself, im- 
 mediately subsequent to the termination of those labours, 
 which will have identified your Name with the Genius of 
 the Stage, and have left an impression on the public 
 mind, not to be effaced by time or circumstance. 
 
 By Order of the Committee of Admirers and 
 Friends, 
 
 Walker & Urquhaut. 
 
 No. 89, Cfreat Russell-Street, Bloomsburt/Square^ 
 1st June, 1817. 
 
 GENTLEMEN, 
 
 You purpose me an honour, of which, without the 
 slightest affectation, I think myself unworthy, and am 
 unable to express my very deep sense. 
 
 On Friday, the 27th instant, if that day is perfectly 
 convenient, I will have the honour of waiting on the 
 Meeting, where, and at what hour they please to ap- 
 point. 
 
 1 am. Gentlemen, 
 
 With the utmost respect, 
 Your most obliged and most obedient Servant, 
 
 (Signed) J. P. Kemble. 
 
 To the Committee. 
 
 As the day of celebration approached, each 
 Member of the Committee increased in his de- 
 sire to be personally useful in furthering the
 
 
 -^ .^ .^-^ , xj?l 2^- ^^A, .^-.>^/i, jX '^^^-^ ^=^ -^ 
 
 
 .y^ 
 
 y' 
 
 
 
 /3, 
 
 .-4.,- .u,,,//. r/.^/-. '//?,„/■/.:. ://:;, J 4f<^„y . 
 
 hihlfih^l h, .t.'lm Ifillfi lieu Strrtt iWnit H^fim Aii.iuH i&t;.
 
 43 
 
 object of the meetings ; and Sub-Committees 
 were appointed, for the purpose of procuring a 
 Design for the Piece of Plate ; for obtaining an 
 Ode from some eminent Poet on the occasion ; 
 for the sketchinof and executino; a Desisfn for the 
 Ticket Plate; for the general arrangement of 
 the Dinner, and other incidental circumstances. 
 
 The Design for the Vase was most oblig- 
 ingly furnished by Mr. Flaxman, whose truly 
 classical and correct taste, as displayed in this 
 specimen of his art, has since received the une- 
 quivocal admiration of the best judges. 
 
 At the particular suggestion of Mr. Mathews, 
 a Medal, from a Portrait in wax in his collec- 
 tion, bearing a striking resemblance of Mr. 
 Kemble, was struck, to colnmemorate the day. 
 It was executed by Mr. Warwick, under the 
 superintendance of Mr. Simpson, and worn at 
 the Dinner by each Member of the Committee. 
 
 Mr. Campbell, author of the Pleasures of 
 Hope, volunteered an effort of his Muse, which 
 will be given in order, when we come to speak 
 of its recitation on the day of the Dinner ; and 
 Mr. T. Cooke was applied to for the composition 
 of the Musical Accompaniment, which he most 
 ably executed. 
 
 Mr. Poole, the well-known Dramatic Au- 
 thor, supplied the following Inscription for the 
 Vase, which not only received the unanimous 
 approbation of those on whose behalf he un- 
 dertook the pleasing task, but called forth from 
 the Noble President, Lord Holland, the most 
 flattering expressions of praise and admiration. 
 
 g2
 
 14 
 
 TO 
 
 JOHN PHILIP KKMBLE, 
 
 £Dn fjis IRetircment from tbe ^tage. 
 
 Of which, for thirty-four years, he has been 
 
 The Ornament and Pride ; 
 
 Which to his Learning, Taste, and Genius, 
 
 Is indebted for its present state of Refinement j 
 
 Which, under his Auspices, 
 
 And aided by his unrivalled Labours, 
 
 (Most worthily devoted to the support of the 
 
 LEGITIMATE DRAMA, 
 
 And more particularly to the 
 
 GLORY Ot SHAKSPEARE), 
 
 Has attained to a degree of Splendour and Propriety 
 
 Before unknown ; 
 
 And which, from his high Character, has acquired 
 
 Increase of 
 HONOUR AND DIGNITY: 
 
 THIS VASE, 
 
 BY A NUMEROUS ASSEMBLY OF HIS ADMIRERS, 
 
 In testimony of their 
 
 GRATITUDE, RESPECT, AND AFFECTION, 
 
 Was presented. 
 
 Through the Hands of their President, 
 
 HENRY RICHARD VASSAL, LORD HOLLAND, 
 
 XXVII JUNE, MDCCCXVII. 
 
 «' MORE IS THY DUE THAN MORE THAN ALL CAN PAY."
 
 
 
 ?5 
 
 
 '^yfi^^/a// Wcyi/n/ ^u^J//r (/'/// /// ^/Ar a/ ///* ^ /////< /■ 
 
 Ptj}>hshi-4l hy .fiilin MHIi-r I'rw SlirrI I'^yrnl ('•iii.liii .lii,/iist,l/ij ;
 
 '■NK«rv
 
 45 
 
 The Performers of Drury-Lane Theatre had 
 intended, on the evening of Mr. Kemble's taking: 
 leave, to offer him their tribute of regard, at 
 a personal inter^dew, immediately upon his quit- 
 ting the Stage ; but owing to the indisposition 
 of Mr. Rae, they were obliged to defer the 
 gratifying duty till the morning of Friday the 
 27th of June, the day of the Dinner, when Messrs. 
 Rae, Dowton, Johnstone, and Holland, as a 
 Deputation from that Theatre, waited upon him 
 at his house, and Mr. Rae addressed him in the 
 following words : 
 
 MR. KEMBLK, 
 
 Sir, Mr. Dowton, Mr. Johnstone, Mr. Holland, and 
 myself, as a Deputation from all the Performers of 
 Drury-Lane Theatre, have the honour to wait on you, 
 to offer our tribute of personal respect, and at the same 
 time deeply to lament your having withdrawn yourself 
 from the Stage, of which for several years you have been 
 the pride and distinguished ornament. I am concerned 
 that illness prevented my accompanying these Gentle- 
 men, for this purpose, on the evening of your univer- 
 sally regretted retirement ; but we trust, though late in 
 the expression of our feelings, it will not now be the 
 less acceptable. As the Representatives of Drury-Lane 
 Theatre, we proudly feel, that there you attained and
 
 46 
 
 perfected that high professional character which is now 
 deservedly drawing forth every mark of public estima- 
 tion : and we beg to assure you, that we fully partici- 
 pate in those general feelings of admiration and respect. 
 We hold in just estimation, the dignity you have added 
 to the Profession, both by your genius in the art itself, 
 and by the force of your example in private life. We 
 take our leave, wishing you the enjoyment of your 
 health ; and with an earnest hope that the remainder of 
 your life may in every respect be as conducive of happi- 
 ness to yourself, as it has hitherto been serviceable and 
 ornamental to Learning and the Stage. 
 
 Mr. Kemble was evidently very much affected 
 by this Address, and thanked the Deputation 
 most cordially for the honour conferred on him.
 
 ^ 
 
 
 ADMIT 
 
 .0^'^'"'!^'""*^/. 
 
 Ar'/i/i/ 
 
 ^
 
 41 
 
 On the morning of the 27th of June, the 
 Committee met, and having arranged the bu- 
 siness of the dav, affain assembled at the Free- 
 masons' Tavern an hour before Dinner, to re- 
 ceive Mr. Kemble. Tlie following is a List of 
 the Noblemen and Gentlemen who received 
 Tickets for the occasion. 
 
 Earl of Aberdeen. 
 Baron de Arabet. 
 Abbott, Mr.Wm. 
 Arnold, S. J. 
 Anderdon, — 
 Adolphus, J. 
 Anderton, — 
 AdolphuSj J. Leycester. 
 Adams, Wm. 
 Alderson, T. J. 
 Achroyd, Wm. 
 Angerstein, J. J. 
 Angerstein, T. 
 Allen, John. 
 Andrews, J. 
 Anderson, Samuel. 
 
 Duke of Bedford. 
 Earl of Blessington. 
 Sir G. Beaumont. 
 Col. Berkeley. 
 Rev. Dr. Burney. 
 Dr. C. Burney. 
 Betty, Mr. W. H. W. 
 
 Bartley, G. 
 Bannister, J. 
 vBoswell, J. 
 Blanchard, Wm. 
 Broadhurst, — 
 Bellamy, — 
 Baily, A. 
 Bushnan, J. 
 Brandram, T. 
 Briggs, — 
 Barber, S. 
 Burgon, T. 
 Burgon, J. H, 
 Barnctt, — 
 Broadwood, T. 
 Broad wood, H. 
 Brown, J. 
 Berens, R. 
 Bramah, J. 
 Bridge, J. 
 Brandon, James. 
 
 Earl of Carlisle. 
 Lord Cahir.
 
 48 
 
 
 Rt. Hon. George Canning. 
 Sir N. Conant. 
 Croker, Mr. J. W. 
 Calcraft, John, Esq. M.P. 
 Cooke, T. 
 Campbell, Thomas. 
 Chantry, (R.A.) 
 Cobb, J. 
 Crohat, Henry. 
 Carruthers, David. 
 Curtis, J. sen. 
 Claremont, — 
 Curling, — 
 Corry, J. 
 Chatterton, J. 
 Cribb, VVm. 
 Crabbe, Rev. G. 
 Conway, W. A. 
 
 Dowton, Mr. Wm. 
 Duruset, John. 
 Dubois, E. 
 Durtnall, — 
 D'Egville, J. 
 Dawkins, John. 
 De Charmes, — 
 Dawson, — 
 Darke, S. W. 
 Dibdin, T. 
 Donaldson, — 
 Dauncey, — 
 Daniel, — 
 
 Earl of Essex. 
 Earl of Egremont. 
 V Lord Erskine. 
 Egcrton, Mr. — 
 Emery, John. 
 Ellis, R. 
 Elly, C. 
 Este, M.L. 
 Emery, — 
 Este, — 
 
 Earl of Fife. 
 
 Right Hon. J. H. Frere. 
 
 Farley, Mr. C. 
 
 Fawcett, John. 
 
 Foss, — 
 
 Farrell, T. 
 
 Frearson, — 
 
 Field, John. 
 
 Francies, — 
 
 Ferguson, C. 
 
 Foss, E. 
 
 Foss, Henry. 
 
 Eraser, — 
 
 Flaxman, — 
 
 Foster, — 
 
 Fisher, — 
 
 Ford, G. S. 
 
 Lord Wm. Gordon. 
 Giflford, Mr. Wm. 
 Goutier, M. 
 Griffiths, G.
 
 49 
 
 Goldsmith, Mr. E. 
 Garcias, J. 
 Grant, — 
 Griffiths, T. 
 Green, VVm. 
 Gregg, Francis, 
 Glynn, T. 
 f' Grimaldi, Joseph. 
 Gregg, Francis, jun. 
 Goding, — 
 Gates, Wm. 
 Gordon, Capt. (R. N.) 
 
 Earl of Harrington. 
 \C Lord Holland. 
 
 Sir G. Heathcote, Bart. 
 
 Heath, Mr. 
 
 Hamilton, — 
 
 Herbert, G. 
 
 Heber, Richard. 
 
 Harris, Henry. 
 
 Hitchins, J. 
 
 Hill, — 
 Heath, G. C. 
 Holt, F. L. 
 Henchman, F. 
 Henderson, — 
 Henderson, John. 
 Henderson, R. 
 Henderson, Wm. 
 Hibbert, George. 
 Hicks, John. 
 Hall, Walter. 
 
 Haydon, Mr. B. R. 
 Hoffman, J. 
 Hudson, J. S. 
 Heath, C. 
 Holland, C. 
 Holt, R. 
 
 Hennington, Barnard. 
 Houghton, S. 
 Hammett, F. 
 Hammett, J. 
 Harpur, — 
 Hay, J. 
 Hurd, P. 
 Harrington, S. 
 Herring, C. 
 Hammet, Thomas, 
 
 Innes, Mr. J. 
 Ilbcrry, J. 
 Incledon, Charl«?. 
 Isaacs, B. 
 
 Jones, Mr. Richard, 
 Jobling, R. 
 Johnstone, John. 
 Johnson, Henry. 
 Jameson, Wm. 
 Jolly, T. 
 Jameson, A. 
 
 Lord Kirkwall. 
 >/Kemble, Mr. Charles. 
 'v/Kean, Edmund. 
 
 
 H
 
 50 
 
 Kew, Mr. Wm. 
 
 Kelly, Michael. 
 Knyvett, — 
 Kemp, — 
 Knight, T. 
 
 Marquis of Lansdowne. 
 Lord Lauderdale. 
 y. Sir Thomas Lawrence. 
 Hon. George Lambe. 
 Leigh, Mr. J. H. M. P. 
 Liston, John. 
 Lysons, Sam. 
 Loughnan, Andrew, 
 Lavie, Germain. 
 Leigh, S. 
 Litchfield, — 
 Linley, Wm. 
 Lysons, Rev. D. 
 Leverton, Thos. 
 Lindo, T. 
 Lyall, — 
 Leach, John, 
 Locke, Wm. 
 Littledale, — 
 Lumley, Wm. 
 Lander, J. 
 Leigh, Chandos. 
 Lumley, Geo, 
 Lane, Thos. 
 
 Earl of Mulgrave. 
 Lord Mountnorris, 
 
 Hon. D. Macdonald. 
 Mathews, Mr. Charles. 
 Mitchell, W. 
 Moore, T. 
 Murray, John. 
 Macready, Wm. 
 Merriman, J. 
 Mcrriman, Dr. 
 Mawman, J. 
 Munn, — 
 Mocatta, D. 
 Miller, John. 
 /Moore, Thomas. 
 Manlay, — 
 Mocatta, M. 
 Morris, John. 
 Millingland, — 
 Milns, C. N. 
 Milligan, — 
 Murray, Alex. 
 Moser, — 
 Merriman, T. 
 Meyer, — 
 Murray, Wm. 
 
 NichoU, Mr. George. 
 Northover, T. 
 
 Earl of Ossory. 
 Sir Wm. Owen. 
 Colonel O'Kelly. 
 Oakley, Mr. B. 
 Owen, Wm. (R. A.) 
 Oddie, H. 
 
 7*^
 
 51 
 
 Earl Percy. 
 Lord Petersham. 
 General Phipps. 
 Poole, Mr. John. 
 JK Pope, Alex. 
 
 Pearse, Captain. 
 Perry, James. 
 Price, Ralph. 
 Parry, Wm. 
 Puller, Richard. 
 Phillips, Wm. 
 Phipps, A. 
 Power, Richard. 
 '/^ Payne, John Howard. 
 Potty wood, — 
 Pocock, Isaac. 
 
 Quin, Mr. 
 
 Rae, Mr. Alex. 
 /^ Rogers, Samuel. 
 Robins, George. 
 Reid, J. R. 
 Rose, George. 
 Rhodes, Wm. B. 
 Rivers, Josiah. 
 Richardson, Wm. 
 Reynolds, H. R. 
 Richardson, C. 
 Raymond, James Grant. 
 Rundell, J. B. 
 Richardson, J. 
 
 Earl of Stair. 
 
 StephensoHjMr.Rowland. 
 ^ Simpson, Wm. 
 St. Aubyn, James. 
 Shield, Wm. 
 Shee, M. A. (R. A.) 
 Smith, James. 
 Smith, Newman. 
 Saville, James. 
 Skelton, Jonathan. 
 Skelton, H. 
 Scudamorc, John. 
 Smirke, R. (R. A.) 
 Secritan, Frederick. 
 Stuart, Dan. 
 Simmons, Sam. 
 Street, T. 
 Sims, — 
 
 Spottiswood, Andrew, 
 Sinclair, John. 
 Sutton, — 
 Shewill, E.W. 
 Saville, Joseph. 
 Scalet, — 
 Soane, J. (R. A.) 
 Steer, Samuel. 
 
 Marquis of Tavistock. 
 
 Lord Torrington. 
 
 Right Hon. Geo. Tierney, 
 
 M.P. 
 Taylor, Mr. Charles. 
 Thomson, H. (R.A.) 
 Taylor, John, 
 
 h2
 
 52 
 
 Telford, Mr. C. 
 Twiss, Horace. 
 Telford, H. 
 Tnlma, — 
 Tarbult, -^ 
 Turner, — 
 Taylor, — 
 k f Turner, J. W. M. (R. A.) 
 ThornhiU, Fred. 
 Turner, — 
 Terry, Daniel. 
 Twining, Ricli. 
 Tait, Dr. 
 
 Urquhart, I. A. Sec. 
 
 Vaux, George. 
 Vickery, Rev. J. 
 
 Marquis of Worcester. 
 Sir Robert Wilson. 
 Walker, Wm. Sec. 
 
 I Willett, Mr. H. K. 
 
 Welsh, Thomas. 
 v'Westmacott, R. (R. A.) 
 
 Woodbridge, F. 
 V' West, Benj. (R.A). 
 
 Warren, Edw. 
 
 West, Raph. 
 
 Wilson, Thos. 
 
 Williams, W. 
 
 Welsh, James. 
 
 Wallack, James. 
 
 Wallace, J. 
 
 Wrench, B. 
 
 Ward, C. W, 
 
 Walpole, Robt. 
 
 Wood, Thos. 
 
 Whitter, — 
 
 Earl of Yarmoutli. 
 Young, Mr. G. H, 
 Young, Cliarles. 
 Young, W. 
 
 C^ 
 
 y 
 
 At seven oclock, dinner was announced. 
 Mr. Kemble, and the Noble President, were 
 preceded from the Drawing-room to the Grand 
 Banqueting Saloon by the Committee, the Band 
 playing the march from an Occasional Overture. 
 Mr. Kemble took his seat on the right of Lord 
 Holland, and His Grace the Duke of Bedford
 
 53 
 
 on the left. During dinner, the Band played 
 selections from Handel. After the cloth was 
 removed, Non Nobis Domine was sung by 
 Messrs. Leete, Niekl, Terrail, Pyne, Broad- 
 hurst, Clark, Bellamy, C. Taylor, Incledon, 
 Shield, Hawes, and Master Turle. The Noble 
 Chairman then gave 
 
 THE KING. 
 
 " God save the King," and full Chorus, the Band joining, 
 
 THE REGENT. 
 
 Glee— ^ Hail, Star of Brunswick." 
 
 THE QUEEN AND ROYAL FAMILY. 
 
 Glee — " When Order in this Land commenc'd." 
 
 At this period, Mr. Rae and Mr. Mathews 
 presented to Lord Holland the cast and drawing 
 of the Vase. 
 
 His Lordship then rose and said — " Gentlemen, in 
 pursuance of the proceedings of this day, I hoped to 
 have had the honour and satisfaction of presenting to 
 my Friend, who sits near me, the Piece of Plate which 
 it is your wish to bestow upon him, as an indication of 
 the high sense you entertain of his abilities. But, un- 
 fortunately, I am prevented from performing that grate- 
 ful duty, the rich and beautiful work designed for the 
 Vase, not being yet completed. Here is, however, a 
 drawing of the Vase, which will be handed round the 
 room. I have also a copy of the Inscription intended
 
 54 
 
 for it, which, if you please, I will read to you." — His 
 Lordship then read the Inscription*. 
 
 Lord Holland continued — '* If, Gentlemen, it were 
 not for the feelings which actuate you, and which influ- 
 ence myself, here I might close, because I think, com- 
 posed as this Company is, of so many Gentlemen who 
 have pursued the arduous Profession of the Stage with 
 great success, and who are perfectly qualified to judge 
 of scenic ability, it would be superfluous in me to des- 
 cant on such a topic : it would, indeed, unable as I am 
 to do justice to the subject, be worse than superfluous; 
 it would be presumptuous and impertinent in me, to en- 
 large on that great combination of qualities, natural and 
 acquired, necessary to form a perfect" Actor. But if, 
 following the object for which we are here assembled, I 
 were to touch on the various abilities of my excellent 
 Friend near me, what else should I be doing, but de- 
 scribing those natural qualities and acquired perfections 
 which are indispensable in the constitution of an accom- 
 plished Actor ; which can alone raise men to that high 
 eminence which Mr. Kemble so long enjoyed in that 
 profession ; which gives to poetry so much force and 
 effect ; and which imparts to thousands so large a por- 
 tion of rational and innocent amusement? For as no 
 person ever brought to the Stage a greater portion of 
 those natural advantages which realize the idea of the 
 Poet, and afford assistance to the sister arts of Painting 
 and of Sculpture, than Mr. Kemble ; so, I will contend, 
 that no man ever cultivated the Dramatic Art with greater 
 assiduity, zeal, learning, and judgment. Gentlemen, it 
 is quite unnecessary for me to dwell, as I have already 
 
 * See page 44.
 
 66 
 
 said, on those qualities which recommend an Actor to 
 public applause ; because, by your being here this day, 
 you prove that you understand them much better than 
 I can describe them. We have met here, not only be- 
 cause we feel a perfect conviction of the great difficul- 
 ties which are attached to the study of this Profession ; 
 but we have met here also, because we rate highly those 
 qualifications which are necessary to success on the 
 Stage, and vv'hich my Friend near me possesses in a pre- 
 eminent degree. Here, Gentlemen, I wish to mention 
 a subject, which is so immediately connected with the 
 object for which we are met, that 1 trust I may be al- 
 lowed to interrupt your conviviality, by calling your at- 
 tention for one moment to it. It has generally been the 
 idea of those who wrote on the profession of Acting — 
 particularly the Poets; and of one more especially, whose 
 name we all venerate, and whose loss we all deplore — 
 I mean the late lamented Mr. Sheridan, speaking of the 
 difficulties and discouraging circumstances which attend 
 the art — ' that the materials of the Actor's fame are 
 more perishable than those of the Poet's or the Painter's.* 
 We have met, I think, this day, to remove some of the 
 injustice to which the Profession has been subjected. 
 Mr. Kemblc has, by collateral measures, done more for 
 the permanent prosperity of the Stage, and conse- 
 quently for the fame of its votaries, than any person who 
 has gone before him. For, as long as the British The- 
 atre exists — as long as the plays of Shakspeare shall be 
 represented in this metropolis, the result of his learning 
 and industry will be seen in the propriety of the scenic 
 decorations, in the improvement of the costumey and in 
 many matters apparently of minor consideration j but 
 which, when effi^cted, shew the man of research and of 
 ability, and display the mind of the scholar and the critic.
 
 56 
 
 I thought it necessary to touch upon this point, since it 
 appears to be so nearly connected with the business of the 
 day. I shall not trespass on you further. What we are 
 met to do, I hope will be acceptable to my Friend, and 
 gratifying to us all. The feelings by which we are im- 
 pelled, are, I think, embodied in the Inscription whiclx 
 has been read to you : they are those of gratitude, respect, 
 and affection J — gratitude, for the delight he has so often 
 imparted to us in crowded theatres — respect for iiim, as 
 a scholar and a critic — and affection for his virtues, as 
 a man of independent character and of upright conduct. 
 I am sure, with his usual good nature, that he will ac- 
 cept of this address, as a memorial of respect and esteem. 
 If I am not misinformed, a Gentleman present will recite 
 an Ode, more expressive of my feelings than any thing 
 I can say to you." 
 
 His Lordship's speech was frequently interrupted by 
 the tumultuous applause of the company. Silence being 
 at length obtained, Mr. Young rose, and delivered the 
 following Ode with unequalled energy and pathos. 
 
 ODE, 
 
 BY THOMAS CAMPBELL, ESQ. 
 AUTHOR OF THE PLEASURES OF HOPE. 
 
 Pride of the British Stage, 
 
 A long, and last adieu ! 
 Whose image brought th' heroic age 
 
 Reviv'd to Fancy's view. 
 Like fields refresh'd with dewy light, 
 
 When the sun smiles his last, 
 Thy parting presence makes more bright 
 
 Our memory of the past.
 
 57 
 
 And memory* conjures feelings up, 
 That wine or music need not swell. 
 
 As high we lift the festive cup, 
 To, Kerable, fare thee well ! 
 
 His was the spell o'er hearts. 
 
 That only Acting lends. 
 The youngest of the sister arts, 
 
 Where all their beauty blends. 
 For Poetry can ill express. 
 
 Full many a tone of thought sublime ; 
 And Painting, mute and motionless. 
 
 Steals but one partial glance from time. 
 But, by the mighty Actor brought, 
 
 Illusion's wedded triumphs come, 
 Verse ceases to be airy thought. 
 
 And Sculpture to be dumb! 
 
 Time may again revive. 
 
 But ne'er efface the charm. 
 When Cato spoke in him alive, 
 
 Or Hotspur kindled warm. 
 What soul was not resign'd entire. 
 
 To the deep sorrows of the Moor? 
 What English heart was not on fire. 
 
 With him at Agincourt? 
 And yet a majesty possess'd 
 
 His transports' most impetuous tone^ 
 And to each passion of his breast. 
 
 The Graces gave their zone. 
 
 High were the task, too high, 
 
 Ye conscious bosoms here. 
 In words to paint your memory. 
 
 Of Kemble, and of Lear ; 
 
 J
 
 58 
 
 But who forgets that white discrowned head! 
 
 Those bursts of reason's half extinguish'd glare ; 
 Those tears upon Cordelia's bosom shedj 
 
 In doubt more touching than despair, 
 If 'twas reality he felt 
 
 Had Shakspeare's self amidst you been, 
 Friends, he had seen you melt. 
 
 And triumph'd to have seen. 
 
 And there was many an hour. 
 
 Of blended kindred fame ; 
 When Siddons's auxiliar power, 
 
 And sister magic came. 
 Together at the Muse's side. 
 
 Her tragic paragons had grown ; 
 They were the children of her pride. 
 
 The columns of her throne. 
 And undivided favour ran. 
 
 From heart to heart, in their applause. 
 Save for the gallantry of man. 
 
 In lovelier woman's cause. 
 
 Fair as some classic dome. 
 
 Robust and richly grac'd. 
 Your Kerable's spirit was the home. 
 
 Of Genius and of Taste. 
 Taste, like the silent gnomon's power. 
 
 That when supernal light is giv'n. 
 Can dial inspiration's hour. 
 
 And tell its height in Heav'n. 
 At once ennobled and correct, 
 
 His mind survey'd the tragic page ; 
 And what the Actor could effect. 
 
 The Scholar could presage.
 
 59 
 
 These were his traits of worth — 
 
 And must we lost? them now ? 
 And must the scene no more shew forth 
 
 His sternly-pleasing brow ? 
 Alas ! the moral brings a tear — 
 
 "Tis all a transient hour below, 
 And we that would detain thee here. 
 
 Ourselves as fleetly go. 
 Yet shall our latest age 
 
 This parting scene review — 
 Pride of the British Stage, 
 
 A long, and last adieu ! 
 
 The twelve last lines of the Ode, arranged by 
 Mr. T. Cooke, were very effectively sung by 
 the Vocal Gentlemen previously mentioned. 
 
 Lord Holland then gave the Health of Mr. 
 Kemble, which was drank with enthusiasm. 
 
 After a short pause, during which he appeared 
 much affected, Mr. Kemble rose, and addressed 
 the Company as follows : 
 
 " Gentlemen, for your presence here to-day, and the 
 honour you have done me in drinking my health, I beg 
 leave to offer you my most sincerely grateful acknow- 
 ledgments. Unused as I am to extemporaneous public 
 speaking, it will not appear extraordinary that I should 
 find myself embarrassed, in addressing an assembly com- 
 posed of men admired for their genius, honoured for 
 their rank, and valued for learning and talents of every 
 kind. I shall therefore. Gentlemen, confine myself to 
 saying, that you do me the greatest honour that can 
 grace the retirement of any Actor; and, as it is a distinc- 
 tion, that never has been shown to any of my predeces- 
 sors, it makes me feel the more intimately, how far your 
 favour exceeds every thing which my deserts could pre- 
 
 i2
 
 60 
 
 tend to. Gentlemen, the terms in which you are pleased 
 to speak of my private life, as well as of my professional 
 exertions, are very dear to me ; but on this subject, it 
 would be immodesty to say more, than that I am proud 
 to be thought deserving of the public good opinion. 
 Your Noble Chairman, Gentlemen, has done me the 
 honour of attributing to me much more merit than be- 
 longs to me ; his friendly feelings have led him, I fear, 
 very much to over-rate my services to the Stage, But I 
 can truly say, that, when he attributed to me a strong 
 desire to discharge my duty fairly in the different parts 
 of my profession, — as far as my earnest endeavours to 
 deserve that praise, could be considered as entitling me 
 to it, — so far your Noble Chairman has spoken of me 
 only with justice. The manner in which you have been 
 so kindly good as to show your solicitude, that my per- 
 formances may be handed down to — posterity is too 
 proud a word — but, — that the memory of them, should 
 live after me — is too flattering to my feelings, not to af- 
 fect my heart most deeply. — I receive the gift, Gentle- 
 men, with affection — with gratitude ; and it is pleasing 
 to me to know, that I shall still be remembered, even 
 when that mark of your kindness shall have faded away ; 
 since my Farewell has been celebrated by the Muse that 
 dictated the Pleasures of Hope. — I beg leave. Gentle- 
 men, to propose the health of our Noble Chairman, 
 LORD HOLLAND. 
 His Lordship, in returning thanks, declared that it 
 was most gratifying to his feelings to preside in such an 
 Assembly on such an occasion. 
 
 The next Toast given, was, 
 
 THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE, and PRLNCE of SAXE- 
 
 COBURG. 
 
 Song by Mr. Broadhurst — " Believe me, with all those 
 
 endearing young charms,"
 
 61 
 
 DUKE OF YORK and the Army. 
 
 Band playing. ' 
 
 DUKE OF CLARENCE and the NAVY. 
 Rule Britannia — full Chorus. 
 
 THE IMMORTAL MEMORY OF SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 THE LIVING DRAMATISTS. 
 
 MR. FAWCETT, and the PERFORMERS of Covent-Garden 
 
 Theatre. 
 
 Mr. Fawcett — " My Lord, and Gentlemen, I rise to 
 return thanks for the honour conferred on me and my 
 brother Performers. Next to the pleasure of receiving 
 the applauses of a good-natured audience at Covent- 
 garden, the approbation of this splendid assembly, which 
 I now address, is most grateful to my heart. I and my 
 fellow Performers do not take any pride to ourselves for 
 the plan which led to the meeting this day j but we feel 
 the honour done to our Brother, in the inmost recesses of 
 our hearts. I am sure no soldier that traced the doubtful 
 field of Waterloo, felt more for his General than we do for 
 ours. He is about to give up his command j but he has 
 done great good while he held it ; and his example, I am 
 convinced, will not be forgotten. He has left an inde- 
 lible impression behind him. To him the Actor is 
 obliged for raising his profession to a degree of respecta- 
 bility which it never before possessed. They will keep 
 their eyes steadily fixed on the example left them, and 
 though few can hope to rival him as an Actor, yet all 
 may endeavour to achieve that enviable character which 
 he so highly possesses — the character of an honest and 
 good man !"
 
 62 
 
 Ml-. RAE, and tlie PERFORMERS of Drury-Lane Theatre. 
 
 Mr. Rae rose — " My Lord, being the medium to re- 
 ceive the compliment which you have just paid to the 
 Drury-lane Company, I feel wholly distrustful of my 
 ability duly to acknowledge the honour ; and after the 
 very able manner in which a similar compliment to the 
 Sister Theatre has been acknowledged by its worthy Ma- 
 nager, I shall only express a hope that it may be be- 
 lieved, we fully participate in those general sentiments 
 of admiration and respect, which have this day been so 
 warmly manifested towards Mr. Kemble, by men of the 
 most exalted rank, talent, and science : And we shall 
 ever reflect with pride, that on our boards, Mr. Kemble 
 commenced that career which he has now so splendidly 
 terminated." 
 
 Lord Holland expressed his satisfaction at witnessing 
 the liberality of sentiment which pervaded the two 
 Winter Theatres, rivals as they were in some respects ; 
 and was glad of this opportunity publicly to declare, 
 how much the late lamented Mr. Whitbread considered 
 himself obliged by the liberality with which Mr. Kemble 
 had materiallv assisted his efforts, for the re-establish- 
 ment of the affairs of Drury-lane Theatre. But he was 
 sure the liberality of Englishmen would not be confined 
 to their own country. They had now an Actor of a neigh- 
 bouring nation amongst them. His Lordship was happy 
 that they were all eager to express their gratification at 
 this circumstance. He should, therefore, propose the 
 Health of 
 
 M. TALMA, and Success to the FRENCH STAGE. 
 
 M. Talma — " Gentlemen, it is impossible, in a 
 foreign language, to express my warm gratitude for the 
 hospitalities of your country — and the distinction with 
 which you treat the French Drama. To be thought 
 worthy of notice, on an occasion consecrated to my dear
 
 63 
 
 Friend Kemble, I consider one of tlie highest honours 
 of my life. Gentlemen 1 as I cannot thank you with my 
 words, 1 trust you will forgive me for thanking you only 
 with my heart, and permit me to fill my glass to 
 
 The BRITISH NATION, and the BRITISH STAGE." 
 
 The ROYAL ACADEMY, and its worthy PRESIDENT, 
 
 Mr. WEST. 
 
 Mr. West— " My Lord, in the name of the Royal 
 Academy, and for myself, permit me to thank you for 
 the flattering kindness which has prompted you to wish 
 success to the one, and health to the other. The at- 
 tentions of persons like your Lordship, and the high and 
 brilliant characters which compose this Assembly, are 
 among the noblest incentives with which Artists can be 
 honoured ; and permit me to assure you, my Lord, that 
 it is impossible for my mind to receive a higher gratifi- 
 cation, or the Academy a more acceptable tribute, than 
 both derive from being thus noticed by such society, and 
 upon such an occasion." 
 
 Mr. YOUNG, the Reciter of the ODE. 
 
 Mr. Young — " My Lord, the honor which you have 
 just conferred upon me, was unexpected — but not the 
 less grateful to me, and I thank you cordially. I have 
 felt myself very highly flattered, to be selected as the per- 
 son who was considered eligible upon such an occasion to 
 recite the Ode, which, though admirable for its nume- 
 rous poetic beauties, is not less so for the truthfulness 
 of its panygeric. No man is more indebted to the 
 example of Mr. Kemble than myself, whether he be con- 
 sidered in his public or his private character; and I am 
 sensible it is very much to the influence of both upon me,
 
 64 
 
 and the Indulgence of the Public, that I am indebted for 
 whatever success I have been so fortunate as to obtain. 
 It is my firm conviction, that lasting reputation is only 
 to be obtained at the price which Mr. Kemble has paid 
 for it, which has been a steady, unremitting application, 
 as well to the theory as the practice of his Art; and I 
 consider it as an imperious duty towards them, whose 
 approbation has given me the little reputation I possess, 
 to tread in the steps of so illustrious a master as Mr. 
 Kemble." 
 
 MRS. SIDDONS. 
 
 Mr. Horace Twiss — " It becomes me to state, as my 
 apology for addressing your Lordship and this assembly, 
 that I do so at the especial desire of Mrs. Siddons, who, 
 understanding that this honour was designed for her, re- 
 quested that I would return her most grateful acknow 
 ledgments. Your Lordship has observed how frail are 
 the materials of the Actor's work. His exertions, unlike 
 those of other artists, perish even in the moment of 
 their birth : no scroll, no canvas, no marble preserves 
 them: but as it were in a mirror, "they come like 
 shadows, so depart." It is only, therefore, from the 
 impression which the powers of great tragedians have 
 produced on the acknowledged judges of their own 
 time, that posterity can obtain any distinct criterion of 
 their deserts ; and most splendidly has contemporary 
 opinion to-day attested and recorded the excellence of 
 Its favourites, In this thronged attendance, and pervad- 
 ing enthusiasm of an assembly so distinguished in every 
 various walk of talent and of taste. I will only add, 
 that if there be terms which can, more forcibly and feel- 
 ingly than any others, convey to such an auditory the
 
 65 
 
 deep sense which Mrs. Siddons will always retain of the 
 honour and kindness now conferred upon her, those are 
 the terms which, could she herself have been present, 
 she would have selected, to express the thanks I but 
 attempt so imperfectly to offer in her name." 
 
 Mr. Mathews being now requested to favour 
 the Company wdth a song, gave " The Night- 
 ingale Club." 
 
 The next Toast given was, 
 
 MR. FLAXMAN, the Designer of the Vase. 
 
 Mr. Flaxman — " My Lord, whatever merit you may 
 have pleased to ascribe to my humble effort on this oc- 
 casion, I am aware it will derive its greatest value from 
 the worth and dignity of the man whose name it is 
 meant to perpetuate. And I feel much gratified, that 
 as the Designer of the present tribute, my name will 
 hereafter be associated with that of the object of this 
 day's commemoration." 
 
 Mr. Incledon was next called upon to gratify 
 the Company with his celebrated song, '' Cease, 
 rude Boreas," &c. 
 
 Lord Holland then gave, 
 
 THE COMMITTEE. 
 
 Mr. Mathews—" In the name of my brother Com-* 
 mittee-men, and for myself, I rise to return you our 
 sincere thanks for the honour you have just conferred on 
 us. In assuring you of the gratification I feel, I am 
 confident I am conveying to you the feelings of us all. 
 I have been appointed by them to this pleasing, yet 
 difficult task, perhaps rather unwisely j for though not 
 
 K
 
 66 
 
 one of us can feel more than I do, there is not one 
 among us, that could not have expressed those feelings 
 in a much better way. I shall not long intrude upon 
 your attention, but I must be permitted to say a few 
 words respecting the situation of the Committee on this 
 proud, and gratifying occasion. I hope it will not be 
 understood that we arrogate to ourselves any particular 
 distinction. No, we have all present, but one motive, 
 one object, that of paying a tribute of respect to the 
 eminent individual, who has this day honoured us with 
 his company : but perhaps some small portion of vanity 
 and exultation will be pardoned in us, (and which in- 
 deed if you blame us for, we cannot help indulging), 
 when we reflect, that it was with us the idea of this 
 day's meeting originated: particularly when we look at 
 the party present, distinguished as it is, by a large por- 
 tion of the highest rank and finest talent in the country, 
 who have spontaneously joined, to bear a part in the 
 scene, and who expressed a wish to that effect, the mo- 
 ment our intentions were made known ; and all this 
 without one having recourse to an advertisement, or any 
 of the usual means resorted to on public occasions. Had 
 we not limited our numbers, I speak with confidence, 
 that so great was the sensation excited, that had our 
 room been as long as the Waterloo Bridge, it would 
 have been filled, without the attraction of its novelty. 
 Much has been said, and justly said, in praise of our emi- 
 nent guest, and were I disposed to be oratorical, I might 
 complain : I might exclaim. It is really hard upon me, that 
 nothing is left for me to say : but to one point, 1 beg 
 leave to speak individually. I am an Actor ; I love my 
 profession, and all those who do honour to it ; and none 
 but an Actor can properly appreciate all the service Mr. 
 Kemble has done us. The Public owe him their respect
 
 67 
 
 and thanks, for the good he has done the Drama gene- 
 rally ; but for the particular services he has rendered us, 
 whether with respect to its increased estimation with 
 the Public, or the excellent regulations introduced under 
 his able management, he is entitled to the gratitude and 
 affection of his cotemporaries. We all feel, I am sure, 
 the same regret, when we consider the loss the public 
 will suffer by his retreat ; but our expressions to-day, as 
 far as regard himself, 1 must take the liberty of saying, 
 have partaken ratlier too much of the penseroso. For 
 my part, I cannot but congratulate him on being able 
 honourably to retire from, at best, a precarious profes- 
 sion ; full of difficulties, of toils and anxieties ; and I 
 sincerely hope, that he may live long to enjoy as much 
 happiness in private life, as he has afforded us, wiio 
 have witnessed his admirable professional exertions. My 
 Friend, Mr. Fawcett, has distinguished him as our Ge- 
 neral — I shall, with permission, give him higher rank, 
 I am a loyal Actor — I know where my allegiance is due, 
 and the favours and honours you have bestowed on my 
 Dramatic Sovereign, (for so / must call him), this day, 
 have been delightfully gratifying to me, and I am sure 
 to all my brethren present. Gentlemen, I must apo- 
 logize for having so long trespassed upon your time : 
 once more I return you our thanks, for the honour you 
 have done us, and beg leave to drink all your healths.** 
 
 The last Toast drank by the Company was, 
 
 THE LADIES. 
 
 A little before twelve o'clock, the Noble 
 Chairman and his Guest rose to depart. As Mr. 
 Kemble went down the room, the Company 
 pressed upon him, to grasp his hand as he passed, 
 
 k2
 
 68 
 
 in token of their regard for him, and regret at 
 the idea of seeing him no more. 
 
 A Cast of Shakspeare, from the monument in 
 Stratford Church, borrowed from the Proprietors 
 of the Theatre Royal, Covent-Garden, for the 
 occasion, had been placed over the President's 
 Chair, as an appropriate ornament to an enter-, 
 tainment, given in honour of so illustrious a 
 votary of its great original ; and as Mr. Kemble 
 retired from the figure, the Company appeared 
 to feel, that it was moie than an ideal separation 
 between the Poet and the Actor, and to think, 
 that as the latter withdrew from the image of 
 the Bard, his compositions would lose a prop of 
 their fame, in the absence of so intelligent an 
 expositor. 
 
 Unlike the conclusion of other public festi- 
 vals, where noise and intemperance generally 
 succeed the specific purpose of the day, the 
 Company spontaneously rose at the moment of 
 Mr. Kemble's withdrawing, and after filling a 
 bumper to his future health and enjoyment, 
 withdrew from the scene of their hospitalities, 
 convinced that there remained no spur to con- 
 viviality after his departure. 
 
 Thus terminated one of the proudest days the 
 Profession ever witnessed, in this or any other 
 country ; refiecting equal honour on the merit 
 that deserved, and the feeling that suggested 
 die celebration.
 
 69 
 
 A few days after the Dinner, the following 
 Poem, reprinted with considerable alterations 
 from Mr. Taylor's Poem, called The Stage, ap- 
 peared in the Sun Newspaper, and is inserted 
 here by the Author s permission. 
 
 THEATRICAL PORTRAIT 
 
 OF 
 
 . JOHN PHILIP KEMBLE, ESQ. 
 
 To close in order due our long career, 
 See Kemble march, majestic and severe; 
 Fraught with uncommon pow'rs of form and face, 
 He comes the pomp of Tragedy to grace. 
 
 Fertile in genius, and matur'd by art, 
 Not soft to steal, but stern to seize the heart. 
 In mould of figure, and in frame of mind. 
 To him th' heroic sphere must be assign'd. 
 
 August or daring he adorns the Stage — 
 The gloomy subtlety, the savage rage, 
 The scornful menace, and the cynic ire. 
 The hardy valour, and the patriot fire — 
 These shew the vigour of a master's hand. 
 And o'er the feelings give him firm command ; 
 As Richard, Timcn, and Macbeth, proclaim, 
 Or stern Coriolanus' nobler aim. 
 
 Nor fierce alone, for well his pow'rs can shew 
 Calm declamation and attemper'd woe ; 
 The virtuous Duke who sway awhile declines. 
 Yet checks the Deputy's abhorr'd designs, 
 And, in the sov'reign or the saintly guise, 
 Benevolently just, and meekly wise:
 
 70 
 
 'fhe Dane, bewailing now a father's fate, 
 Now deeply pond'ring man's mysterious state ; 
 Tender and dignify'd, alike are seen — 
 The philosophic mind and princely mien. 
 
 When merely tender, he appears too cold ; 
 Or rather fashion'd in too rougli a mould : 
 Nor fitted love in softer form to wear. 
 But strong with pride, or madd'ning with despair; 
 As when the lost Octavian's murmurs flow 
 In full luxuriance of romantic woe. 
 Yet where Orlando cheers desponding age, 
 Or the sweet wiles of Rosalind engage. 
 We own, that manly graces finely blend 
 The tender lover, and the soothing friend. 
 
 Though Nature was so prodigally kind 
 In the bold lineaments of form and mind. 
 As if to check a fond excess of pride. 
 The pow'rs of voice she scantily supply'd : 
 Oft, when the hurricanes of passion rise. 
 For correspondent tones he vainly tries; 
 To aid the storm, no tow'ring note combines. 
 And the spent breath th' unequal task declines. 
 Yet, spite of Nature, he compels us still 
 To own the potent triumph of his skill. 
 While, with dread pauses, deepen'd accents roll. 
 Whose awful energies arrest the soul. 
 
 At times, perchance, the spirit of the scene, 
 Th' impassion'd accent, and impressive mien. 
 May lose their wonted force, while, too refin'd. 
 He strives by niceties to strike the mind : 
 For action too precise, inclin'd to pore. 
 And labour for a point unknown before ; 
 Untimely playing thus the Critic's part. 
 To gain the head, when he should smite the heart.
 
 71 
 
 Yet still must candour, on reflection, own 
 Some useful comment had been shrewdly shewn; 
 Nor here let puny malice vent its gall, 
 And texts with skill restor'd new readings call; 
 Kemblc, for Actors, nobly led the way. 
 And prompted them to think as well as play. 
 
 With cuitur'd sense, and with experience sage. 
 Patient he cons the time-disfigur'd page. 
 Hence oft we see him with success explore, 
 And clear the dross from rich poetic ore. 
 Trace, through the maze of diction, passion's clue. 
 And open latent character to view. 
 
 Though for the muse of Tragedy design'd, 
 In form, in features, passions, and in mind. 
 Yet would he fain the Comic Nymph embrace. 
 Who seldom without awe beholds his face. 
 Whene'er he tries the airy and the gay. 
 Judgment, not genius, marks the cold essay ; 
 But in a graver province he can please 
 With well-bred spirit, and with manly ease. 
 When genuine wit, with satire's active force. 
 And faithful love pursues its gen'rous course. 
 There in his Valentine^ might Congreve view, 
 Th' embody'd portrait, vig'rous, warm, and true. 
 
 Nor let us, with unhallow'd touch, presume 
 To pluck one sprig of laurel from the tomb; 
 Yet with due rev'rence for the mighty dead, 
 'Tis just the fame of living worth to spread: 
 And could the noblest vet'rans now appear, 
 Kemble might keep his state, devoid of fear; 
 Still, while observant of his proper line, 
 With native lustre as a rival shine.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 (A). 
 
 Worcester, February \2th, 17<>7. 
 
 Mr. Kemble's Company of Comedians. 
 
 At the Theatre, at the King's Head, this Evening, will be 
 
 performed, A Concert of Musick, to begin 
 
 exactly at Six o'Clock. 
 
 Tickets to be had at the usual places. 
 
 Between the parts of the Concert, will be presented, gratis, 
 a Celebrated Historical Play, (never performed here), called 
 
 KING CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 The Characters to be dressed in ancient habits, according to 
 the fashion of those times. 
 
 The part of Kin^ Charles, Mr. Jones. 
 
 Duke of Richmond, Mr. Siddons. 
 
 Marquis of Lindsay, Mr. Salisbury. 
 
 Biihop Juxon, Mr. Fowler. 
 
 General Fairfax, Mr. Kemble. 
 
 Colonel ireton, Mr. Crump. 
 
 Colonel Tomlinson, Mr. Hughes. 
 
 The part of Oliver Cromwell, Mr. Vaughan, 
 
 Servant, Mr. Butler. 
 
 Jatnes, Duke of York, (afterwards King of England), 
 Master J. Kemble. 
 
 The Duke of Gloxicester, (King Charles's younger Son), 
 Miss Fanny Kemble. 
 
 Serjeant Bradshaw, (Judge of the pretended High Court of 
 Justice), Mr. Burton. 
 
 The young Princess Elizabeth, Miss Kemble. 
 
 Lady Fairfax, Mrs. Kemble. 
 
 The part of the Queen, Mrs. Vaughan. 
 
 Singing between the Acts by Mrs. Fowler, and Miss Kemble. 
 
 To which will be added, a Comedy, called 
 
 THE MINOR. 
 
 And on Saturday next, the 14th inst. will be again presented 
 
 the above Tragedy, with a Farce that will be 
 
 expressed in the Bills for that day. 
 
 The days of Performance, are Mondays, Tluirsdays, and 
 
 Saturdays. 
 
 ■f * 
 
 *
 
 73 
 
 (B). 
 
 The following, we believe, to be an accurate List of Mr. 
 
 Kembles Literary Productions, original, translated, 
 
 altered, and adapted to the Stage. 
 
 ORIGINAU 
 
 Fugitive Pieces — A small Volume of Poems, 17S0. 
 
 BELiSAUiuSjd Tragedy, acted at York, 1778; never pnnted. 
 
 Female Officer, a Farce, afterwards called the Pro- 
 jects, 1779; never printed. 
 
 Macbeth Reconsidered, an Essay, &c. 8vo. 1786. 
 
 Macbeth and King Richard the Third, an Essay, 
 &c. crown 8vo. 1817- 
 
 TRANSLATED. 
 Lodoiska, a Musical Drama, from the French, 1794. 
 
 ALTERED. 
 
 Oh! It's Impossible, from the Comedy of Errors, 1780; 
 
 never printed. 
 Pannel, a Farce, from BickerstafF's Comedy, " It's Well 
 
 it's no Worse, Svo. 1788. 
 Farm- House, a Comedy, from Charles Johnson's Country 
 
 Lasses, Svo. 1789- 
 Love in many Masks, a Comedy, from the First Part 
 
 of Mrs. Hehn's Rover, Svo. 1790. 
 Alexander the Great, a Pantomime, Svo. 1795. 
 Celadon andFlorimel; or. The Happy Counterplot; 
 
 a Comedy, from Gibber's Comical Lovers, 179^; never 
 
 printed. 
 
 I. •<
 
 74 
 
 ADAPTED TO 
 
 All's Well that EndsWell, 
 
 8vo, 
 As You Lfke It, 8vo. 
 Cymbeline, 8vo. 
 Coriolanus, 8vo. 
 Cato, 8vo. 
 
 Comely of Errors, 8vo. 
 Double Dealer, 8vo. 
 DeMontfort; never printed. 
 False Friend, 8vo, ; never 
 
 printed. 
 Henry IV. Part I. 8vo. 
 
 Part II. 8vo. 
 
 Henry V, 8vo. 
 Henry VIII. 8vo. 
 Hamlet, 8vo. 
 Julius C^sar, 8vo. 
 King Lear, 8vo. 
 King Joun, 8vo. 
 Katharine and Petruchio, 
 
 8vo. 
 Maid of Honour; never 
 
 printed. 
 
 THE STAGE. 
 
 Merchant of Venice, 8vo. 
 Merry Wives of Windsor, 
 
 8vo. 
 Much Ado about Nothing, 
 
 8vo. 
 Macbeth, 8vo. 
 Measure for Measure, 8vo. 
 New Way to Pay Old 
 
 Debts, 8vo. 
 Othello, 8vo. 
 Plain Dealer, 8vo. 
 Richard III. 8vo. 
 Romeo and Juliet, 8vo. 
 Rule a Wife and Have a 
 
 Wife, ovo. 
 Revenge, 8vo. 
 Tempest, 8vo. 
 Twelfth Night, 8vo. 
 Two Gentlemen of Verona, 
 
 8vo. 
 Venice Preserved, 8vo. 
 Winter's Tale, 8vo. 
 Way of the World, 8vo. 
 
 *** The greater part nf the Pieces last enumerated, have been collected, 
 with several additional Dramas, and jmhlished by Miller, Bow-street, 
 Cove7it-garden, under the title of A Select British Theatre, revised by Mr, 
 Kemble.
 
 75 
 
 (C). 
 
 " Mr. Kemble, the celebrated Actor of London, whose 
 arrival at Paris has been announced by the papers, possesses a 
 fine figure, and appears to be about forty years of age : his 
 liair is dark, his features strongly marked, with a physiog- 
 nomy truly tragic. He understands, and speaks with accu- 
 racy, the French language. In company he appears tiiought- 
 ful and reserved. His manners, however, are very distin- 
 guished, arid he has in his looks, when addressed, an expres- 
 sion of courtesy, that affords us the best idea of his educa- 
 tion. Mr. Kemble is well informed, and has the reputation 
 of being a good grammarian, which distinguishes him from 
 other English Actors, who are more attentive to attitude than 
 to diction. The Comedie Fran^aise has received him with all 
 the respect due to the Le Kaim of England; they have 
 already given him a splendid dinner, and mean to invite him 
 to a still more brilliant souper. Talma, to whom he had letters 
 of recommendation, does the honours of Paris; they visit 
 together our finest works, and appear to be already united by 
 the most friendly ties. Mr. Kemble thinks our theatrical de- 
 clamation too remote from Nature ; but confesses that some 
 of our Actors have great talents. Previous to his leaving 
 Palis, they talk of playing Macbeth, IJamlet, and Rotneo 
 and Juliet. This truly French gallantry will have tiie double 
 advantage of doing honour to a whole people, in the person 
 of their most celebrated tragedian, and of drawing great 
 houses." — ( Extract from a French Paper).
 
 to 
 
 (D). 
 To the Duke of Northumberland. 
 
 " MY LOUD DUKE, 
 
 " Be pleased to accept this tribute of my gratitude. 
 That it is the constant character of your Grace's nature, to 
 conceal the benefits it confers, 1 well know ; and I am fear- 
 ful lest this offering should offend, where I most anxiously 
 wish it to be received with favour ; yet when a whole happy 
 tenantry are voting public monuments, to perpetuate the me- 
 mory of your Grace's paternal benevolence to them; I hope, 
 my Lord, that I am not any longer forbidden openly to 
 acknowledge my own great obligations to your munificence. 
 
 " Your Grace has thought me worthy of your bountiful 
 patronage ; and I may not presume to say how little I de- 
 serve it." &c. &c. &c. — (Vide Dedication of Macbeth and 
 Richard the Third, an Essay, published by Murray). 
 
 (E). 
 
 Poetical Address, written by Walter Scott, Esq. 
 
 As the worn war-horse, at the trumpet's sound, 
 Erects his mane, and neighs, and paws the ground ; 
 Disdains the ease his generous lord assigns. 
 And longs to rush on the embattled lines ; 
 So I, your plaudits ringing on mine ear. 
 Can scarce sustain to think our parting near ; 
 To think my scenic hour for ever past. 
 And that those valued plaudits, are my last. 
 
 But years steal on ; and higher duties crave 
 Some space between the theatre and grave ; 
 That, like the Roman in the Capitol, 
 I may adjust my mantle ere I fall :
 
 77 
 
 My life's brief act in public service flown, 
 The last, the closing scene, must be luy own. 
 
 Here, then, adieu ! while yet some well- graced parts 
 
 May fix an ancient favourite in your hearts. 
 
 Not quite to be forgotten, even when 
 
 You look on better Actors, younger men : 
 
 And if your bosoms own this kindly debt 
 
 Of old remembrance, how shall mine forget? — 
 
 O, how forget! — how oft I hither came 
 
 In anxious hope, how oft returned with fame! 
 
 How oft around yojir circle, this weak hand 
 
 Has waved immortal Shakspeare's magic wand. 
 
 Till the full burst of inspiration came. 
 
 And I have felt, and you have fann'd the flame! 
 
 By mem'ry treasured, while her reign endures. 
 
 These hours must live — and all their claims are your's. 
 
 O favoured land ! renowned for arts and arms. 
 
 For manly talent, and for female charms. 
 
 Could this full bosom prompt the sinking line. 
 
 What fervent benedictions now were thine! 
 
 But my last part is play'd, my knell is rung. 
 
 When e'en your praise falls faltering from my tongue; 
 
 And all that you can hear, or I can tell. 
 
 Is — Friends and Patrons, bail, and FARE YOU well!
 
 78 
 
 (F). 
 Mr. Kembles last Night. 
 
 For the Benefit of Mr. Kemble. 
 Theatre Royal, Covent-Garden. 
 
 Tliis present Monday, June 23, 1817, will be iicted, Sliakspeare's 
 
 Tragedy of 
 
 Coriolanus; or, 1'he Roman Matron. 
 
 lloiiians : 
 Caius Marcius Coriolanus, Mr. Kemble, 
 
 (Being the last time of his appearing 07i the Stage). 
 
 The Cliilil, Miss Parsloe Cominius, Mr. Chapman Menenius, 
 
 Mr. Blancliard — f«/t;«Ms, Mr. Jefferies — Appius, Mr. T. Matthews. 
 
 Tribu7ies of the People : 
 Sicinius, Mr. Barrymore — Brutus, Mr. Murray. 
 
 Citizens: Mr. Simmons, Mr. Atkins, Mr. Howell, Mr. Menage. 
 Volumnia, Mrs.Faucit — Virgilia, MissFoote— Valeria, Miss Green 
 
 — Servilia, Mrs. Coates. 
 
 Matrons and Virgins : Mesdames Bologna, Chipp, Grimaldi, Heath, 
 
 Louis, S. Mori, Norman, Robinson, Sexton, Watts. 
 
 In Act II. An Ovation. 
 With the full Chorus, "See the Conquering Hero comes." 
 
 By Messrs. Crurapton, Everard, George, Guissart, Higman, Lee, 
 Linton, Norris, I. Terry, L S. and C. Tett, Tinney, Watson, Wil- 
 liams. Mesds. Bishop, Carew, Findlay, Herbert, Ilibbert, Iliff, Lis- 
 ton, M'Alpiae, Matthews, Mortram, Sterling, West, Whitniore. 
 Volcians: Tullus Aufidius, Mr. Egertou — Volusius, Mr. Claremont 
 
 — Sextus, Mr. Penn — Lucius, Mr. Ring — Navius, Mr. Grant — 
 
 Arnus, Mr. Sutton. 
 
 The Publick are respectfully informed, that, for the accommodation of a 
 ■number of Ladies and Gentlemen who have not been able to procure places in 
 the Boxes, the Orchestra will, for this everting, be occupied by apart of the 
 Audience, and the Symphonies between the Acts be jdayed behind the Scenes. 
 
 To which will be added, the Farce of the 
 
 Portrait of Cervantes; or. The Plotting Lovers, 
 
 Murilto, Mr. Emery — Don Carlos, Mr. Connor — Don Guzman, 
 Mr. Jefleries — Scipio, Mr. Blanchard — Sancho, Mr. Liston — Father 
 Benito, Mr. Atkins. 
 
 Alguazils — Messrs. Goodwin, Louis, Piatt, Sutton, White. 
 Lucetla, Mrs. Gibbs — Isabella, Miss Carew. 
 
 JFinig. 
 
 London : Printed by K. M'MiUan, ^ 
 Bow Street, Covent Garden. "
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
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