is used for soldier's clothing; Raymond declared

66

his business" would not do, and prophesied certain failure. One lady wondered where the little wretch had been picked up! and advised him to return to the country, as amongst such actors as he was surrounded by, he could stand no chance. He went home. "I must dine to-day," he said; and for the first time for many days indulged in the luxury of meat. Then all that he had to do was to wait as patiently as he could for the night. "My God!" he exclaimed, "if I succeed I shall go mad!" Terrible prophecy. Volumes could not better describe the agitation of his mind.

CHAPTER II.

EDMUND KEAN: HIS GREAT DAYS.

The Dark Hour before the Dawn-A Delirious Triumph-Richard and Hamlet-His Wonderful Acting in Othello-His IagoFame and Fortune-Paying off old Insults-The Delirium of Success-Romeo-Zanga-Dr. Doran's Picture of his Sir Giles Overreach-Bertram-A Danaë Shower-His Love of Low Company-An Escapade-The Contest with Booth-A Wonderful Performance-Mistakes-His Lear-A Profound StudentFirst Visit to America-His Contest with Young-His Professional Jealousy.

AS

S the church clocks were striking six he sallied forth from his lodgings in Cecil Street. His parting words to his wife were, "I wish I was going to be shot!" In his hand he carried a small bundle-containing shoes, stockings, wig, and other trifles of costume. The night was very cold and foggy; there had been heavy snow, and a thaw had set in; the streets were almost impassable with slush, which penetrated through his worn boots and chilled him to the bone. He darted quickly through the stage-door, wishing to escape all notice, and repaired to his dressing-room. There the feel

ings of the actors were shocked by another innovation; he was actually going to play Shylock in a black wig instead of the traditional red one! They smiled among themselves, shrugged their shoulders, but made no remark; such a man was beyond remonstrance-besides, what did it matter? he would not be allowed to appear a second time. Jack Bannister and Oxberry were the only ones who offered him a friendly word. When the curtain rose the house was miserably bad, but by-andby the overflow of Covent Garden, which was doing well at that time, began to drop in and make up a tolerable audience. His reception was encouraging. At his first words, "Three thousand ducats, well!" Dr. Drury, who was in front, pronounced him "safe." At "I will be assured I may," there was a burst of applause, and at the great speech ending with, " And for these courtesies I'll lend you thus much monies," the sounds of approbation were very strong. Even as the curtain fell upon the first act success was almost ensured, and already the actors who had treated him so superciliously, began to gather round with congratulations. But he shrank from them, and wandered about in the darkness at the back of the stage. The promise of the first act was well-sustained in the second. But his great triumph was reserved for the scene with Salanio and Salarino in the third, where he is told of the flight of his daughter Jessica

A DELIRIOUS TRIUMPH.

193

with a Christian; there so terrible was his energy, so magnificent his acting, that a whirlwind of applause shook the house. Then came the trial scene, grander still in its complex emotions and its larger scope for great powers; and all was so novel, so strange, so opposed to old traditions. When the

curtain finally fell upon the wild enthusiasm of the audience, the stage manager, Raymond, who had snubbed him, offered him oranges; Arnold, who had bullied him and "young man'd" him brought him negus. Drunk with delight he rushed home, and with half-frenzied incoherency poured forth the story of his triumph. Mary," he cried, "you shall ride in your carriage yet! Charles," lifting the child from his bed, "shall go to Eton." Then his voice faltered, and he murmured, "If Howard had but lived to see it."

66

The "Merchant of Venice" was played several nights in succession, and the nightly receipts rose from one hundred to six hundred. His next part was Richard-the second part is always the touchstone of an actor's success; he here entered the lists with Cooke and Kemble, and memories of Garrick's splendid performance had not yet died out among old playgoers. In Shylock his small stature mattered little, but in Richard that disadvantage would be glaringly perceptible; he approached the part with fear and trembling. "I am so frightened," he said before the curtain rose,

"that my acting will be almost dumb show tonight." But nevertheless from the first soliloquy to the appalling last scene, he took both audience and critics by storm. The performance must have been wonderfully like Garrick's. As a child we hear of him reciting the part "after the manner of Garrick," of which doubtless Miss Tidswell gave him the idea. Mrs. Garrick, who went to see him play it, told Dibdin that Cooke put her in mind of her husband, but Kean was like Mr. Garrick himself. His chief fault was that his hypocrisy, in the scene with Lady Anne, was too thinly veiled. There was an exultant reckless scorn in his insinuative gallantry that could not have deceived the shallowest woman. But the tent scene was wonderful, and in the last Hazlitt says, "he fought like one drunk with wounds; and the attitude in which he stands with his hands stretched out, after his sword is taken from him, had a preternatural and terrific grandeur, as if his will could not be disarmed, and the very phantoms of his despair had a withering power."

Cooke was said to have been far surpassed. But Macready makes a very clever distinction between the performance of the two actors. He says that "there was a solidity of deportment and manner, and at the same time a sort of unctuous enjoyment of his successful craft, in the soliloquising stage villainy of Cooke, which gave powerful and rich