powers of the actor, was his reproach to Justice Greedy: There is some fury in the gut.' The indignity of the word called up all the dignity of the actor to meet it, and he guaranteed the word, though 'a word of naught,' according to the letter and spirit of the convention between them, with a good grace, in the true old English way. Either we mistake all Mr. Kemble's excellences or they all disqualify him for this part. Sir Giles hath a devil; Mr. Kemble has none. Sir Giles is in a passion; Mr. Kemble is not. Sir Giles has no regard for appearances; Mr. Kemble has. It has been said of the Venus de Medicis, 'so stands the statue that enchants the world;' the same might have been said of Mr. Kemble. He is the very still life and statuary of the stage; a perfect figure of a man; a petrifaction of sentiment that heaves no sigh and sheds no tear; an icicle on the bust of Tragedy. With all his faults, he has powers and faculties which no one else on the stage has; why, then, does he not avail himself of them, instead of throwing himself upon the charity of criticism? Mr. Kemble has given the public great, incalculable pleasure; and does he know so little of the gratitude of the world as to trust to its generosity?"-Examiner. Crowned as Massinger had been of late by the masterly efforts of one who might have boasted with Warwick that "he had made his favourite reign," his repute as an effective and original dramatist was extended by the production on the 8th of March of the tragedy of the Duke of Milan. The character of Sforza, which was represented by Kean, is by no means so grand, so broad, and so resistless as that of Sir Giles. Its predominant characteristic is an inherent selfishness; obedient to impulse, the creature of circumstances, Sforza acknowledges no other principle than his own imperious will, no better object than the unlimited indulgence of his own pleasures. His breach of faith to Eugenia, his cruel love for Marcelia, and his determination to destroy the latter rather than that she should survive him, are all illustrative of the disposition referred to. Kean's performance of the Duke was pregnant with all the interest of which the character is susceptible; but "it is too much at cross purposes with itself, and before the actor has time to give full effect to any impulse of passion, it is interrupted and broken off by some caprice and change of object." The affectionate softness which pervaded his first scene with Marcelia; the exquisite beauty of his acting when, in turning towards his wife with a perfect expression of mingled love and sadness, he beautifully relieved his despondency by the sparklings and flashes of tenderness which broke over his features and eyes; his first intimation to Francisco of his dark purposehis exclamation, "I am not jealous;" the fine effect given to the passage, "Silence that harsh music," through the contrast displayed between the mournful melody of his voice and the pretty air which made itself heard from behind the scenes; the depth of feeling in his acting where, enumerating the excellences of Marcelia, he gave the lines beginning "Add, too, her goodness;" his watching over her dead body when he thought she was but sleeping, and his rapid transition in the words "I am hushed!" these may be selected from the rich profusion of gems which he scattered over the representation. The death of the duke was provided for in a manner altogether at variance with, and inferior to, the original arrangement. With the production of the Duke of Milan, Kean's endeavours to redeem the works of Massinger from the obscurity in which they had hitherto been allowed to remain, terminated. Other plays suggested themselves to him for revival, but he desisted from the undertaking, feeling sure that in A New Way to Pay Old Debts he had opened to view the fruitful mine which Massinger's plays afford. In the meantime an interesting comedy was enacted by the actor in private life. On the morning of the 26th of March he was passing through Deptford when he recognised in a pale, attenuated individual standing at one of the tavern doors a fiddler named Smith, whom he had known in the country. The recognition was mutual, and Kean, happy to meet one of his old associates, took the fiddler into the tavern, regaled him to an immoderate extent, promised him that he should be speedily installed in the orchestra of Drury-lane Theatre, and finally gave him a a purse of money. The unfortunate man, exhilarated by so sudden and unexpected a brightening of his prospects, became fearfully intoxicated, and on the way home got drowned in the Thames near Southwark Bridge. Unaware of the melancholy fate of his protégé, the tragedian sat down to dinner with some boon companions of his early days. He was announced to appear in the Duke of Milan that evening, and had set out from Clarges-street with every intention of returning to fulfil his duties. In the excitement of the bottle, however, he forgot all about Massinger, Sforza, and the duties they entailed upon him, and-overstayed his time. His friends, convinced that it would be impossible for him to reach Drury-lane in time for the performance, despatched his servant and the empty chariot with an elaborately prepared tale to the effect that, while returning at a very quick pace to London, the horses had taken fright by the cackling of some geese in the roadway; that the carriage had overturned; and that the unfortunate tragedian, thrown with considerable violence from the vehicle, had sustained a dislocation of the shoulder. The story was repeated from the stage by Rae, who came forward "With rueful face, Long as a courtier's out of place, The audience, who had negatived the substitution of Douglas for The Duke of Milan, suffering the entertainment to begin with a farce in hopes that the absentee might yet turn up, were filled with alarm; and their rising dissatisfaction immediately gave place to regretful sympathy when they learnt that the tragedian had been very much stunned and bruised "through his anxiety to keep his engagement at the theatre." On the following morning Kean's |
