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went doggedly to it. By this means I acquired more ease in passing through the varieties of passion, confirming-myself in the habit of acting to the scene alone, and, as it were, ignoring the presence of an audience, and thus came to wield at will what force or pathos I was master of.

Our rehearsals, now my regular school of practice, brought us to the night of the play's representation, May 3rd, to which I went with fear and trembling; but I knew what I had to do, and I did it. The tragedy obtained a complete success. Young acted admirably the old Moor Malec; Charles Kemble was spirited, chivalrous, and gallant in Hemeya; and Miss O'Neill, beautiful in Florinda. In her apology for her love of Hemeya the words seemed to flow in music from her chiselled lips. It was the perfection of elocution. In the fourth act her efforts to save her lover, and her recoil of horror from the proposals of Pescara, raised the enthusiasm of the audience to a tumult of applause, and the act-drop fell amidst the acclamations of the whole house. The character of Pescara tended to improve my position with the critical portion of the playgoing public, but in its extreme odiousness rather prejudiced me with the generality.* At a later period a testimony was afforded me, in the opinion of the illustrious Ludwig Tieck, which more than compensated me for the pains I had taken and the anxiety I had undergone. In his 'Letters on the English Drama,' in 1817, he records the impression produced on him by this performance. In remarking upon it he says, "This villain was admirably represented, and was indeed so vehement, truthful, and powerful a personation, that for the first time since my arrival in England I felt myself recalled to the best days of German acting. If the young man continues in this style, he will go far."

Kemble's last nights were now drawing to a close, but not answering the manager's expectation of their attraction, were given for benefits to those performers who chose to pay their extra price. He acted Hotspur for Young, Macbeth for Charles Kemble, the Stranger for Miss O'Neill, Hamlet for Miss Stephens, Wolsey for Farley, and Penruddock for Blanchard. I saw him in Hotspur, Macbeth, the Stranger, Hamlet, Wolsey, Brutus, Octavian, King John, Lord Townley, and Coriolanus. Of these I gave the preference to King John, Wolsey, the Stranger, Brutus, and his peerless Coriolanus. On his last performance of Macbeth, Mrs. Siddons was induced to reappear for her brother Charles Kemble's benefit. The theatre was crowded. The musicians were ejected from the

*From the Morning Herald, May 5th, on The Apostate.'-"The author must feel much indebted to Mr. Macready for the bold and masterly style in which he represented Count Pescara. He was particularly happy in the severe irony which constitutes a prominent feature of this tyrant; and when his indignation was aroused, and he could no longer conceal the passions which were consuming his heart, his delivery was rapid, fervent, and impressive. He looked the character completely.'

1817.

Kemble's Last Appearance in Macbeth.

111

orchestra, which was filled with seats for spectators, among whom was Talma himself, then on a visit to England. As a very great favour Charles Kemble gave me a place in the third circle. Immense applause greeted the entrance of the Queen of Tragedy, the unrivalled Siddons, as Lady Macbeth. It was indeed Mrs. Siddons in person, but no longer the Mrs. Siddons on whose every look and accent enraptured crowds would hang breathless with delight and astonishment-who lent to dramatic poetry pathos and power beyond what the author himself could have conceived. Years had done their work, and those who had seen in her impersonations the highest "glories of her art" now felt regret that she should have been prevailed on to leave her honoured retirement, and force a comparison between the grandeur of the past and the feeble present. It was not a performance, but a mere repetition of the poet's text-no flash, no sign of her pristine all-subduing genius! Through the whole first four acts the play moved heavily on: Kemble correct, tame, and effective; but in the fifth, when the news was brought, "The queen, my lord, is dead," he seemed struck to the heart; gradually collecting himself, he sighed out, She should have died hereafter!" then, as if with the inspiration of despair, he hurried out, distinctly and pathetically, the lines:

"To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time,

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing,"-

rising to a climax of desperation that brought down the enthusiastic cheers of the closely-packed theatre. All at once he seemed carried away by the genius of the scene. At the tidings of "the wood of Birnam moving," he staggered, as if the shock had struck the very seat of life, and in the bewilderment of fear and rage could just ejaculate the words "Liar and slave!" then lashing himself into a state of frantic rage, ended the scene in perfect triumph. His shrinking from Macduff when the charm on which his life hung was broken by the declaration that his antagonist was "not of woman born was a masterly stroke of art; his subsequent defiance was most heroic; and at his death Charles Kemble received him in his arms, and laid him gently on the ground, his physical powers being unequal to further effort.

The language of criticism is frequently dogmatic, exacting deference from the authoritative tone it assumes, sometimes without the needful preliminary application to the subject of which it treats. It was said by no incompetent judge, "De pictore, sculptore, fictore,

nisi artifex, judicare non potest."* But this opinion, as applied to the theatrical art, is repudiated by many; and, as I have before observed, it is held by some writers in England (though not in France), that no particular study is requisite to make a critic or connoisseur of "acting." I have been led by observation to think differently; but, although my active life has been chiefly devoted to the study of poetry and playing, I make no pretension to the critic's chair; and in trying to describe with accuracy what was palpable to my senses, advance my opinions no further than in stating the impressions made upon a very excitable temperament and a very sensitive organisation.

On the sum of Kemble's merits judgments differed: that he was a great artist all allowed. His person was cast in the heroic mould, and, as may be seen in Lawrence's splendid portraits of him in Coriolanus, Hamlet, and Rolla, reached the most perfect ideal of manly beauty. But he had serious disadvantages to contend with in a very disagreeable voice, husky and untuneable, and in a constitutional asthma that necessitated a prolonged and laborious indraught of his breath, and obliged him for the sake of distinctness to adopt an elaborate mode of utterance, enunciating every letter in every word. His limbs were not supple-indeed his stately bearing verged on stiffness; and his style more suited to the majestic, the lofty, and the stern, than the pathetic, might not inaptly, in respect to his movement on the stage, be termed statuesque. Mrs. Siddons, speaking of him to Reynolds, the dramatist, said, " My brother John in his most impetuous bursts is always careful to avoid any discomposure of his dress or deportment; but in the whirlwind of passion Ilose all thought of such matters: and this forgetfulness of self was one of the elements of her surpassing power. The admission of Mrs. Inchbald, one of Kemble's most ardent worshippers, corroborates the opinion very generally entertained of his phlegmatic temperament. In the part of Oswyn, in Congreve's tragedy of 'The Mourning Bride,' she says, "Garrick had great spirit and fire in every scene, but not the fire of love. Kemble has not even the sparks. Yet Kemble looks nobly, majestically, in Oswyn, and reminds the audience of the lines:

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In all he did the study was apparent. The "ars celare artem,"‡ with all his great talent, he did not reach; but he compelled the respect and admiration where he did not excite the sympathies of his audience. His noble form and stately bearing attracted and * No one but an artist can criticise the works of artists.-Pliny, Epist. i. 10 -ED.

†The Mourning Bride, act ii. sc. 1.—ED. "The art of concealing art."-ED.

1817.

Compliment from Charles Kemble.

113

fixed observation, and his studious correctness retained attention ; but in the torrent and tempest of passion he had not the sustained power of Talma or Kean, but, like a Rembrandt picture, his performances were remarkable for most brilliant effects, worked out with wonderful skill on a sombre ground, which only a great master of his art could have achieved, and of which I have endeavoured to convey some faint idea in my description of scenes of 'Cato' and 'Macbeth.' In his management he was a strict disciplinarian, following the traditional theatrical observances; and the stage was greatly indebted to him for the reformation he effected in the barbarous costume (Romans with powdered heads and knee-breeches) that was in vogue until his day.

Before I left town, which I did on leave of absence previous to the close of the season, the Covent Garden actors gave a sumptuous dinner at the Clarendon Hotel to Talma, to which of course Kemble was invited. It was intended to be a convivial affair, and the only speech was a short one in English from Talma, expressive of his sense of the flattering attentions paid him, and of the gratification he felt in participating with his esteemed friend Kemble in the pleasure of such a meeting. In the course of the evening Kemble sent, by a waiter, to ask me to drink wine with him, which Charles Kemble, who was my next neighbour, hearing, observed to me, "You may think very little, William, of this as a compliment, but I assure you it is a great deal for my brother." Kemble's general manner was cold and austere, and he was considered in the theatre to be proud and imperious. I therefore felt it to be very kind and complimentary in the company of so many my seniors to make so young a man an exception to his general practice. My absence from London prevented me from witnessing his farewell performance in 'Coriolanus,' and the presentation of the testimonial at the parting dinner given to him in Freemasons' Hall, to which I subscribed. It was on that occasion that Campbell's beautiful 'Valedictory Stanzas' were read by Young, and on their subsequent publication in the papers many were the voices that echoed the line, "Pride of the British stage! a long, a last adieu !"

CHAPTER XI.

1817-1818.—A diplomatic adventure-Second London season-DumontWish to leave the stage, go to Oxford, and enter the Church as a profession -Life at a boarding-house-Discussion on Wordsworth's poetry-William Whowell A strange history-Retribution '- Accident in the greenroom Brother sails for India-His character-Rob Roy'-Sonnet by Barry Cornwall-Charles Lloyd-Introduction to Charles Lamb and Talfourd-Sheil's 'Balamira'-The 'Castle of Paluzzi'-Miss O'Neill in Lady Randolph-Cymbeline'-Close of the London season.

My summer was passed in acting, among others, my new London characters, Mentevole, Gambia, Valentio, and Pescara, at my father's theatres in Newcastle, Berwick, Carlisle, Dumfries, and Whitehaven. These engagements unhappily did not pass off without disagreements between my father and myself, for which, although with indisputably just grounds of complaint, I am now disposed to blame myself in not extending a more indulgent consideration for the modes of reasoning and judging upon which he acted. Some weeks of leisure were spent at my old favourite resort, Holy Island, and with my sisters at a little fishing village on the south bank of the Tweed, whence we made excursions among the Cheviots, and to Wark, Norham, and other places of historical and legendary interest. From Whitehaven I made a trip in the weekly packet to the Isle of Man, where I spent three days, visiting Douglas, Peel, Castleton, surveying the Tynwald Mount, whence the laws of the island are proclaimed, and other spots inviting the traveller's curiosity. From Carlisle, where I parted with my father, having happily accommodated our differences, I proceeded en route to London, as far as Manchester. On the road I fell into conversation with one of the coach passengers, a very gentlemanlike young man. The freemasonry of youth and youthful spirit is quick in establishing acquaintance, and as we met and messed together in the same coffee-room at the Bridgewater Arms Hotel, he very soon gave me his confidence, and requested my services in the discharge of rather a delicate embassy. He held a commission in the insurgent force of one of the South American Spanish colonies, and was about to embark for the New World. But he had contracted an engagement with a young lady, who, against her guardian's wishes, had promised him her hand, and they had since prevailed with her to revoke her given word. The blank this made in the picture which his too credulous fancy had painted of something dear to cling to and strive for in his desperate enterprise, was naturally dispiriting and mortifying to

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