To which Mr. Boaden adds, "I shall not think it necessary to do more, when Mr. Kemble's own defence has been considered, than to recapitulate the authorities on which his practice was grounded; namely, Shakspeare, Ben Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher, Massinger, Ford, Davenant, Dryden, Otway, and Swift. Perhaps, however, the reader may pardon the insertion of two passages, which I myself discovered in Hudibras. "Again, 'Can by their pains and aches find All turns and changes of the mind.'' 'As other flames and aches prove.' We have now to notice, in succession, three events, to be deplored by the friends of the drama. In 1810 Mr. Cooke departed for America, from whence he never returned. In 1811 the horses took possession of the Theatre Royal Covent Garden. In 1812 Mrs. Siddons took leave of the stage, in the grandest, if not the most perfect, of her performances-Lady Macbeth. The same season, which was disgraced by the introduction of equestrian exhibitions, was honourably distinguished by the revival of Julius Cæsar; Kemble sustaining the part of Brutus,-Young, Cassius,-Charles Kemble, Anthony. When shall we see this equalled? From the termination of the season of 1812, Mr. Kemble did not appear in London until January 1814, when he returned in the character of Coriolanus. In the same month, Mr. Kean first presented himself to a London audience; this actor is no favourite with Mr. Boaden, and his statement respecting him, is, in several points, incorrect. He tells us, that "the way was well prepared for this gentleman by his friends in town," and he then proceeds to recount a great number of things said of him in the newspapers, and which certainly were said, but it was subsequently to his appearance, and not previously; therefore they could not prepare the way for him. Immediately after his arrival in town, he was at variance with the Committee of management: no pains whatever were taken by them to ensure his success; and Mr. Kean, if ever man did, made his way by the force of talent alone. Mr. Boaden declares himself the "hearted admirer of Mr. Kemble." This is well, we are his "hearted admirers" also. But we would be just to other men, and we cannot consent to sacrifice all living talent to the shade of Kemble. Mr. Kean is infinitely inferior to his great predecessor in elocution, in learning, and in the elaborate study of his author; but, in bold and original conception of character, he has rarely been equalled; and, in power of expression, he has never been approached. His countenance is a Ianguage: "Your face, my Thane, is as a book where men May read strange matters." Richard, Sir Giles Overreach, and several other characters, he has made his own. Macbeth is far from being one of his best performances, but there is one scene in which he surpasses every other actor,-that after his return from the murder of Duncan. Its tremendous truth appals the heart of the spectator, while it enchains his senses, and it is only by the final plaudits of the audience that he is awakened to the recollection that he is in a Theatre, and that what he has been witnessing was but acting. But the most perfect of Mr. Kean's personations is Othello. This is not only the masterpiece of the actor, but it is a master-piece in the art itself. It is an exhibition, which, once seen, is never to be forgotten. We dare not trust ourselves beyond this general praise; for, if we began to particularize, we cannot even conjecture to what length our observations might extend. How can we select where all is beautiful, and powerful, and true? We must not, however, quit the subject, without noticing the Iago of Mr. Young, which is decidedly the best we have ever seen. divests the character of much of that constantly protruded appearance of design which most actors assume, and which was the only fault of Cooke. On his entrance, we feel convinced that we see before us the ancient himself, and the impression thus created he sustains throughout. His is truly Shakspeare's Iago; he who cajoles Roderigo; discourses "with a learned spirit of human dealings" to the Moor; carouses with the gallants;" and sports bitter pleasantry with Desdemona. When Kean and Young sustained the principal characters, the representation of this play was an intellectual feast. 66 He As might be expected, Mr. Boaden's taste is too perfectly Siddonian to allow him to do full justice to Miss O'Neil, although he cannot but admit that this lovely actress "displayed such rare and bewitching talent, as at once placed her at the summit of her art ;" he afterwards, however, affirms the powers of Mrs. Siddons to be superior; consequently he is of opinion, that, while Miss O'Neil only attained the summit of her art, Mrs. Siddons ascended higher than the summit. The fact is, that the two divided the empire of tragedy between them,-Miss O'Neil was pre-eminent in the regions of pity,Mrs. Siddons was the undisputed mistress of the dominions of terror. Mrs. Siddons, too, displayed a perfection of elocution never before equalled; and, perhaps, never again to be expected. As an actress, she has had rivals worthy to contend with her. As a speaker, she seemed calculated to put all competition at defiance. Her excellencies were sufficiently numerous to render unnecessary any attempt to enhance them by detraction. On the 23d of June, 1817, Mr. Kemble acted Coriolanus with his accustomed excellence, and then bade farewell to his profession for ever. Four days afterwards he was invited to dine with his friends and admirers, at the Freemason's Tavern. Lord Holland presided. Mr. Young recited an ode written for the occasion by Mr. Campbell, the whole of which Mr. Boaden ought to have printed. * He has given but one stanza: 'His was the spell o'er hearts For Poetry can ill express Full many a tone of thought sublime ; And Painting, mute and motionless, Steals but one partial glance from Time. Illusion's wedded triumphs come, Verse ceases to be airy thought, The termination of Mr. Kemble's professional life, naturally invites attention to his conduct as a manager, and his powers as an actor. In the former character, though there is much to praise, there is much also to dis-commend. It is true, that he endeavoured to make the plays of Shakspeare what they ought to be, the standard amusement of the public. He revived several that had been laid aside by the tastelessness of his predecessors, and his researches furnished a correct text of those which had kept constant possession of the theatre. Of the rest of the elder dramatists his revivals were fewer than might have been expected, and the library has yet a mine of dramatic wealth unappropriated by the stage. The brother of the eminent man whose career we have followed, has the direction of one of our theatres, and the dramas of the old masters abound with characters peculiarly suited to the powers of one who has been described as the actor of romance. Mr. Kemble has been much praised for his strict attention to costume, and for the scenic improvements which he introduced. We do not attach so much importance to these things as many persons do. We would not, indeed, have Hamlet appear in full court dress, or Alexander the Great in a Field-Marshal's uniform. We would not have a palpably absurd mixture of the costumes of different periods, such as we sometimes see in the revivals of our old comedies, where the gentlemen appear with bags and * Mr. Boaden ought also to have printed Kemble's farewell address at Edinburgh, written by Sir Walter Scott. swords, and the ladies with parasols and reticules. There should be a sufficient degree of attention to prevent any manifest incongruity. But that which is wanted is the probable, rather than the actual; and, we might add, the graceful, rather than the true. Plays are not got up for the gratification of an audience of antiquaries, but for that of the people at large. In many cases, absolute correctness, or even an approximation to it, is utterly impossible. We should like the inquirers into these matters to give us details and drawings of such dresses as would be strictly correct for the plays of Hamlet, Lear, and Cymbeline. The tediously minute attention to costume, which is the fashion of the day, is sheer pedantry, and nothing else. With regard to scenery, we scarcely know what to say. Painting is certainly a more liberal art than dress-making, and we love it too well to speak harshly of it. But yet we go to the theatre to witness the representation of a play, and not to view an exhibition of pictures, and we more than suspect that a super-abundant carefulness has gradually withdrawn the chief attention from the play to its decorations. In the vigorous days of the British drama, the stage (except in intellectual possessions,) was poor indeed. The pencil graced not with the brilliant counterfeits of nature, the majestic sense and lovely poetry of the bards of the "olden time." The everlasting green cloth answered all purposes. We would not reduce the modern stage to this state of nakedness and destitution, but we would have all things, and all persons, keep their proper places. Painting is the worthy sister of Poesy, but she must respect the rights of her relative. She has her galleries and academies, where undivided homage is paid to her charms; where she claims supremacy, and has her claim admitted. In the theatre, she but walks in the train of another; she is only an attendant nymph, not the presiding spirit; and her followers must not thrust themselves before the servants of her elder sister and lawful mistress. Due subordination is as necessary in the theatrical, as in the civil, state. Attention to KEEPING can no more be dispensed with in the great picture-the drama, than in any other. The artist must not demand the first place in the theatre, because there he is entitled only to the third; the first being due to the poet, the second to the actor. This arrangement is indeed reversed in our days. Of what does the theatrical visitor talk on his return? Why, of the splendor and propriety of the dresses; of the beauty of the scenery, and the general magnificence of the decorations; little of the actor, and not a word of the play. Frequently, indeed, this may not be of much importance, but Shakespeare still occasionally occupies the stage, and then it is an evil. This scrupulous attention to the sensual part of the entertainment, has generated that passion for expensive and gorgeous spectacle which has been at once injurious to the public taste, and ruinous to the treasury of the theatre. Money has been expended with the most lavish profusion in dressing and decorating pieces, which were actually unworthy of contributing to the amusement of an audience of intoxicated mechanics at Bartholomew-fair. Managers and spectators appear to have been alike stultified. Mr. Boaden says, speaking of Mr. Kemble; The rage for spectacle he saw ruined a theatre in its wardrobe and painting room. He saw it ? And yet he continued his course, as though he had not seen it. The management of no other person was ever distinguished by such a series of paltry pageantry. One splendid inanity succeeded another, and the theatre seemed to be kept open only for the benefit of taylors, embroiderers, and haberdashers of hardware. This was bad enough, but the lowest depth of degradation was not yet attained. Could it have been believed that, when every other page of folly's book had been turned, and some untried act of wanton barbarism was sought for, the first tragedian of the most enlightened nation of Europe, a man of classical education, of literary habits, of refined taste, should consent to convert his theatre into a riding-house, and surrender the mansion of Shakespeare to a troop of equestrian jugglers? Above all, could it have been believed, that he would act thus, with ruin before his eyes? Yet this he did: jockeys and grooms became the most important personages upon those boards where Kemble and Siddons had sounded every note in the scale of human passion. The cavalry have kept their ground, and seem likely to keep it. Probably, in a few seasons, we may require no other actors than well-trained horses, and well attired post-boys to ride them.* Upon the abuses of modern theatrical management, there are some very clever observations in a pamphlet, published about seven years ago, in answer to a memorial presented to the Lord Chamberlain by the patentees of Drury Lane and Covent Garden Theatres, complaining of the encroachment of the minor houses," The real truth, my Lord," says the author of the pamphlet, "is that, instead of complaining that the Olympic and Sanspareil Theatres have become theatres for the performance of the regular drama, they should have told your Lordship that the Patent Theatres have become theatres for the display of the irregular drama; that the encroachment was in truth committed by the Patent Theatres on the Minor Theatres, and not by the Minor Theatres on the Patent Theatres; and that it was in the rage of engrossing the whole store of stage exhibition, from the deepest pathos of tragedy to the highest flights of rope-dancing, from the amblings of the poet to the amblings of the riding-house, from the splendid illusions of the scene-painter to the slopping of the stage with real water,' from the attic playfulness of 'Congreve' to the more congenial playfulness of 'Puss in Boots; that the memorialists had, on this occasion, resolved to call |