The power of the poet is felt, in these succeeding images of silence, to invade us with a creeping horror, which acquires at length a full possession of the breast, and our nerves are in their infancy again.", A nice ear may object to the occurrence of the same rhymes; and the ideas may be deemed too common and appropriated; but the sensible effect of the lines is what I have stated.

The audience of Wolverhampton preferred his Bajazet to his Theodosius.

During this unsettled period of his life, the industry of his biographers has associated with the name of Kemble some of the long established anecdotes of the profession; making one ruffle do double duty, and other simple expedients, attributed to every country actor in succession. Some writers make him pay his landlady, by spinning a top violently over the head of her sick husband-an act of such unfeeling barbarity as no pecuniary distress could extenuate-and this, too, is told of a man who was exemplary for the tender regard he showed to the feelings of others. One writer brings to this stock of common stage properties, a banquet, that Kemble and his travelling companion took the liberty of making, of apples and pears, in a gentleman's orchard near Gloucester. They seem to have borrowed their notions of biography from Master Slender, who, after assuring Mistress Anne Page that he had a FATHER," requests his uncle, Mr. Justice Shallow, to tell Mrs. Anne the jest, how his father "stole two geese out of a pen."

It is moreover told, too, that this period of indolence and sordid distress lasted several years. To be sure, it is at the same time said, that he was born in 1757, came over to England from Douay when he was nineteen, and we find him a steady performer of the York company in 1778. The indolence, too, had produced some dramatic pieces, subsequently played at Liverpool, and York, and Edinburgh; lectures upon oratory, sacred and profane; and we may add, a study of his profession as an actor, which few have ever so deeply made. But every thing must give way to the desire of showing, that the excellence, which now cannot be denied, was once doubtful or unpossessed. Writers would shudder, if some deity were to display to them the malignity they shroud under the veil of narrative impartiality.

But all his time, it seems, was not to pass in indigence or contempt. One of his admirers, probably in recompense for the crude banquet in the orchard, gives him a flight as high as the episcopal palace of Gloucester, and seats him at the table of Bishop Warburton. The genius of that editor of

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Shakspeare led him to bold experiments upon the text, and te interpretations of mere household words, by which a latent and profound meaning was extracted, that nobody but himself ever suspected to be there. It may be inferred that Warburton, when admiring the new readings of Kemble, was but applauding a kindred taste. He is said to have allayed the fervour of his commendations by a sober admonition to his guest, who is stated to have swallowed at table repeated draughts of ale: "Young man, they who drink ale think "ale." If the readings were acute, the caution had more point than pertinence. But the writer of the anecdote might have found, on a little reflection, that the occurrence was impossible.

In the discourse by his friend Hurd, printed in quarto, 1794, by way of general preface to the bishop's works, at page 108, is the following interesting account of his latter years; and they embrace the only period during which Kemble could have been introduced to Warburton.

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The last years of the bishop's life were clouded with mis"fortune as well as indisposition. He had for some time been "so sensible of his declining health, that he read little and "wrote less. But in the course of the year 1776, the loss of "a favourite son and only child, who died of a consumption "in his eighteenth year, when every hope was springing up "in the breast of a fond parent, to make amends, as it were, "for his want of actual enjoyment.-this sudden affliction, "I say, oppressed him to that degree, as to put an end to his "literary labours, and even amusements, at once. From that "disastrous moment he lived on, indeed, for two or three "years; but when he had settled his affairs, as was proper, "upon this great change in his family, he took no concern in the ordinary occurrences of life, and grew so indifferent to "every thing, that even his books and writings seemed, thenceforth, to be utterly disregarded by him. Not that his me"mory and faculties, though very much impaired, were ever wholly disabled. I saw him so late as October, 1778, "when I went into his diocess to confirm for him. On our "first meeting before his family, he expressed his concern that "I should take that journey, and put myself to so much trou"ble on his account. And, afterwards, he took occasion to "say some pertinent and obliging things, which showed, not "only his usual friendliness of temper, but the command he "had of his attention. Nor was this all. The evening be"fore I left him, he desired the family to withdraw, and then "entered into a confidential discourse with me on some pri"vate affairs which he had much at heart, with as much per

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❝tinence and good sense as he could have done in any former "part of his life. Such was the power he had over his mind, "when roused to exert himself by some interesting occasion. "But this was an effort, which could not be sustained very "long. In less than half an hour the family returned, and "he relapsed into his usual forgetfulness and inattention."

It was of course in this season of parental agony, worldly indifference, abstraction from all amusements, failure of memory, inattention to associates, and incurable melancholy, that the anecdote supposes him to have welcomed an itinerant actor to his table, discussed with him his new readings in Hamlet, and to have sported the monitory dissuasions from indulging in too much ale.

Perhaps the reader may excuse me for having made the above extract fuller than the refutation of an idle tale required, as the whole passage is extremely striking, and closes the history of one of the first of men. Bishop Hurd had but little more to add to the above picture. Warburton expired at the palace in Gloucester, on the 7th of June, 1779, and was buried in his cathedral, at no great distance from the west door, and near to the grave of one of his predecessors, Bishop Benson.

Mr. Craddock was the person who was said to have introduced Kemble to Bishop Warburton, and he did interest himself greatly about the success of his young friend; but the actor in question never had the happiness, such he would indeed have thought it, to be presented to the author of the Divine Legation.

CHAP. II.

Ilis York engagement.-His writings for the stage.-Orestes. -His portrait by Stuart.-Lord Percy's interference for Mr. Kemble.-Mrs. Mason in Zenobia.-Miss Eleanora S her behaviour and its perplexing consequences.-Kemble's manliness-Sharp contest.-Dr. Burgh, General St. Leger-General reflections on such annoyances.-Lunatic Asylum-Kemble's prologue.--Mr. Inchbald's DeathMr. Kemble's fugitive pieces in 1780.-Theatrical fete.Mr. Kemble's Irish engagement.-Digges.-Mrs. Crawford.-Mrs. Siddons.-Miss Phillips and her champion.

THE provincial engagements of Mr. Kemble produced to him frequent mortification, and little of either profit or fame, with the exceptions of Manchester and Liverpool; in both of these towns he left a favourable impression, which has constantly been kept up by summer engagements; and he could name many persons of talent and consideration, who looked upon his ultimate triumph as a matter of absolute certainty.

It would not be my wish, if I had the means, to trace him through his severe pilgrimage among our country theatres; more particularly as I intend to give a pretty ample sketch of his progress, during the three years he continued in the York company. It was carly in the October of 1778 that he joined them, then, and long, under the management of Tate Wilkinson.

Mrs. Siddons had experienced so much favour from the audiences of Yorkshire, that it seemed advisable for her brother to try the effect of claims, every way kindred. The company had just made the experiment of an additional week at Wakefield; as it did not answer, it is useless to detail the mortifications of the manager. I have mentioned it solely for the purpose of stating that Mr. Kemble made his first appearance in the character of Captain Plume, in Farquhar's lively comedy of the Recruiting Officer-with a pantomime.

But it was at Hull that he made the first appearance of any consequence; and there he played Macbeth on the 30th of October. There are no means of estimating how nearly then his performance approached to his, maturer efforts; but I have strong reason to think that, to sound judges, the dawn sufficiently indicated what the day would prove.

To be sure, the eye, accustomed to all the splendour of our present theatres, may turn with apprehension to the deficiencies of provincial stages; and it may be conjectured that the actor was lost for want of our brilliant aids. But I doubt this extremely. I incline, from early recollections, to think, that, as the actors then occupied the whole attention, they had greater power over the spectator. If the scenery had decent propriety, it was sufficient; if the dresses were not old, the costume was little regarded.

In a country company, the more extensive an actor's powers are, the better for the concern. Although I should conceive that Mr. Kemble, even in his youth, could never have been wholly at ease in comedy, yet we find him following Macbeth by Archer, and becoming speedily an object of great importance to the manager.

To those who remember Mr. Kemble's latter diffidence, as an author, it may excite surprise that, on his just attaining manhood, he should venture before an audience a tragedy of his own composition. On the 29th of December, this year, he brought out his tragedy of Belisarius for his own benefit. As I have never seen a line of this play, I cannot speak to its merits it appears to have been well received, to have been thought creditable to his talents, and to have acquired for him both money and reputation.

As I well know his extreme humility as to his writings, the real inducements to this exhibition must have been of a politic nature. He had felt that the report of his education was serviceable to him; it gave him consideration with those who had learning, and a little awed the decisions of those who had none. The more various the display he could make of his powers, therefore, the better. He had no rivals in the company as an author; it insinuated a suspicion, that he might really have none as an actor.

But at York it seemed there were difficulties to be surmounted. There was a good deal of prepossession to strive against his rivals, it may be readily imagined, did not yield to him without a struggle; Cummins had long been the favourite with the MANY.

On the 19th of January, 1779, he acted on the York stage the character of Orestes, a part to which he was long attached; the scene where his imagination suggests to him the persecution of the Furies, was at all times one of his greatest efforts. The artist called American Stuart subsequently painted him in this character: it is a head, and conveys the incipient madness with perfect identity of expression. It affords a fine opportunity of ascertaining the change which