JOHN KEMBLE.
On the 1st of February 1757, John Philip Kemble was born at Prescot,
in Lancashire. His father's itinerant life not only led to his
appearance on the stage when a child, but to his being placed at
school at Worcester, whence he passed through Sedgley to Douay,
where he was remarkable for his elocution. He had for college fellow
Miller, or Milner, as he chose to call himself--and who, when a Roman
Catholic prelate, used to affirm that, in point of elocution, he was
considered equal to Kemble!
In 1776, the year in which Garrick retired, Kemble may be said to
have made his first public appearance as an actor at Wolverhampton,
and Boaden thinks he was too good for his audience. In various
northern towns he endured a stern probation, and made sundry
mistakes. He played Plume, Ranger, and Archer, which were totally
unsuited to him; and he was actually laughed at in tragedy--by some
persons of distinction in the boxes at York. He resented this with
such dignity, that the York fine people, who could not understand
the latter feeling, insisted on an apology; and when the rest of
the house declared he should make none, he thanked them with such a
weight of heavy argument to show they and he were right, that those
bewildered Yorkists demanded of him to beg pardon immediately.[63]
Subsequently, John Kemble published fugitive poems, which he was
afterwards glad to burn; wrote a tragedy, "Belisarius," and a comedy,
the "Female Officer;" composed a Latin ode, _Ad Somnium_, and a
Latin epitaph for his dead comrade, Inchbald; laid the foundations
of friendship with the Percys; gave lectures on oratory; and, at
twenty-three, made an attempt to improve Shakspeare's "Comedy of
Errors," by turning it into a farce, called "Oh, it's impossible!"
the chief point in which was that the audience should be as puzzled
about the two Dromios, of whom he made a couple of niggers, as their
masters themselves.
If, at York, the admirers of the now forgotten Cummins contended
that he was superior to Kemble, so in Ireland those who remembered
their old favourite Barry, were slow to admit Kemble's equality.
But, though he nearly made shipwreck of his fame by playing comedy,
he rose in Irish estimation by his acting in tragedy; and he won
all hearts by his finished performance of Jephson's "Count of
Narbonne," in which he represented the Count, to the Adelaide of Miss
Francis--the Mrs. Jordan of later years. Jephson was an Irishman, and
Dublin was grateful to the actor who helped him to a triumph. Black
Rock, I dare say, is to this day proud of the author.
On the 30th of September 1783, John Kemble first appeared in London,
at Drury Lane, as Hamlet. The fierceness and variety of the criticism
denote that a new and a great actor had come before the critics.
His novel readings were severally commented on--some of them were
admirable, but bold. The utmost one critic could urge was that the
player was "too scrupulously graceful;" and objection was fairly made
to his pronouncing the word "lisp," to Ophelia, as "_lithp_." Boaden
calls this "a refinement;" but he is forced to allow that it was
"below the actor."
Just previous to this successful _début_ at Drury Lane, John Kemble's
brother Stephen had very moderately succeeded in Othello, at
Covent Garden, where the management had secured the _big_, instead
of the _great_, Mr. Kemble. Just subsequent to the former first
appearance, two sisters of these players, Elizabeth and Frances
Kemble (afterwards Mrs. Whitelock and Mrs. Twiss), made an attempt
to share in a theatrical and family glory, in which, however, they
had no abiding part.[64] These ladies passed away, and left that
glory to be divided by John Kemble, and his sister, Mrs. Siddons. But
some time elapsed before the latter were permitted to play in the
same piece. Smith had possession of parts of which custom forbade
his being deprived; and it was not till each had played singly in
various stock pieces, that they came together in "King John," and
subsequently in the "Gamester."[65] Previous to Kemble's undertaking
the former character, the old actor, Sheridan, read the part to him
as Sheridan was used to play it; but grandly as the King was played,
the Constance in the hands of Mrs. Siddons was the magic by which
the audience was most potentially moved. It was the same in the
"Gamester;" the sufferings of Mrs. Beverley touched all hearts; but
the instability, selfishness, cowardice, and maudlin of the wretched
husband, excited both contempt and execration--but that was precisely
what the author, as well as the actor, intended.
This union of genius was not, however, permanent; when Mrs. Siddons
played Lady Macbeth, Smith acted, with graceful indifference, the
Thane; and it was not till March 1785, that brother and sister
appeared together in another play,[66] and then in "Othello"--the
Moor and Desdemona being assigned to them. Neither player was ever
identified with the character respectively acted; but what could even
John Kemble do, who performed the Moor in the uniform of a British
general of the actor's own time? He made a more certain flight by
selecting "Macbeth" for his benefit, and playing the chief part to
his sister's Lady; but it was only for one night. The Thane belonged
by prescriptive right to Smith, and as long as he remained a member
of the company, the original Charles Surface was entitled to one
of the sublimest parts in all the range of tragedy. Even when Mrs.
Siddons selected the "Merchant of Venice" for her benefit, and played
Portia, Shylock fell, as by right, to King, and John Kemble had to be
content with Bassanio![67]
He had his revenge; not in playing the insipid heroes of the new
tragedies, which were then more or less in fashion, but in acting
Lear to his sister's Cordelia, on occasion of her benefit in January
1788. The greatest admirers of Garrick confessed that Kemble's Lear
was nearly equal to that of their idol; but Boaden records that he
never played it so grandly and so touchingly as on that night.
Kemble is said to have been so much attached to Miss Phillips
(afterwards Mrs. Crouch), that he was exceedingly moved on reading
the epitaph on her tomb, by Boaden. He is reported also to have
been tenderly affected by Mrs. Inchbald--for he composed a Latin
epitaph for the tomb of her defunct husband. I find further mentioned
"a young lady of family and fortune at York," whose cruel brother
interfered menacingly in the matter, and also that "the daughter of
a noble lord, once high in office, was strongly attached to him,
and that the father bought off the match with £3000. It is certain
that Mrs. Siddons was highly offended at the alliance (subsequently
with Mrs. Brereton)--perhaps she looked with anxious hope to a
consanguinity with the noble house of G----." So sneers old legend,
and here follows truth.
The lady he _did_ marry was a very excellent lady indeed. Her own
parents had fought their way well through life, for Mr. Hopkins was
a strolling player when he married the daughter of a Somersetshire
Boniface; but the bridegroom became Prompter, and Mrs. Hopkins a
respectable actress at Drury Lane. One of their daughters, Priscilla,
subsequently belonged to the company, when young Brereton persuaded
her to take his name, and share his fortunes. Whether excess of
admiration for Mrs. Siddons, with whom he frequently acted, drove
Brereton mad or not, his widow kept her senses under cool control,
and about a year after the death of her first husband, one of
Garrick's ineffective pupils, she said to Mrs. Hopkins, "My dear
mother, I cannot guess what Mr. Kemble means: he passed me just now,
going up to his dressing-room, and chucking me under the chin, said,
'Ha, Pop! I shouldn't wonder if you were soon to hear something very
much to your advantage!' What could he mean?" "Mean!" the sensible
mother answered--Adolphus so styles her--"why he means to propose
marriage; and if he does, I advise you not to refuse him."
The wedding was dramatic enough. Mrs. Hopkins, her daughter, Jack
Bannister and his wife, walked from Jack's house in Frith Street,
to John's in Caroline Street, Bedford Square, to breakfast with the
bridegroom, who did not seem to expect them. Thence, on a December
morning, 1787, in two hackney coaches, the party went to church and
were married by "the well-known Parson Este." The bride--no dinner
having been thought of by any one else--dined early, the bridegroom
late, at the Bannisters'; at whose house Kemble remained with Mrs.
Bannister, or rather taking his wine without her, while Mr. Bannister
and Mrs. Kemble went to Drury Lane, where they had to act in the
"West Indian." The lady's former name was in the bill. On her return
to Frith Street, Kemble took his good wife home, and the next acting
day, Monday, Lady Anne was acted by Mrs. Kemble to the Richard of Mr.
Smith. On the 14th, man and wife played together, Sir Giles and his
daughter Margaret; the delicate audience seizing on a marked passage
in the play, and laughing as they applauded, to indicate they knew
all about it. Sir Giles remained grave and self-possessed.
Subsequently, Kemble attained the management of Drury Lane,
succeeding King, who had been merely the servant of the proprietor,
in 1788-89. He could now play what parts he chose,--and his first
character was Lord Townly; his second, Macbeth.[68] In the first,
he was second only to Barry; in Macbeth, from the weakness of his
voice, he failed to rise to an equality with Garrick. Leon followed,
with some state; Sciolto, in which he rendered the stern paternal
principle sublime; Mirabel, in which he was to be altogether
distanced by his brother, Charles; and Romeo, in which he never
approached the height of Barry. On his first revival of "Henry
VIII.," he left Bensley in possession of his old part, Wolsey, and
for the sake, it is said, of giving a "duteous and intelligent
observance" to his sister in the heavier scenes, doubled the parts
of Cromwell and Griffith, in his own person. His great Wolsey
triumph was a glory of a later time; so was the triumph of his
Coriolanus,--not yet matured; but in which he was not only never
surpassed, but never equalled. His first season as manager was a
decided success, as regards the acting of himself and sister, and
also the novelties produced.
His second was marked by some revivals, such as "Henry V." and the
"Tempest," and adaptations of the "False Friend" of Vanbrugh, and the
"Rover" of Aphra Behn. In the first piece, in which Kemble played the
King better than he did his other Kings,--Richard and John, he made a
fine point in starting up from prayer and expression of penitence, at
the sound of the trumpet. In lighter pieces he was less successful.
His Don John, the Libertine, was as far beyond his powers as were the
songs of Coeur-de-Lion in Burgoyne's pretty recasting of "Sedaine".
How he cared to attempt such a feat as the last is inexplicable--but
did not droll little Quick, George III.'s favourite actor, and almost
personal friend, once play the Hunchback Richard? and did not Kemble
play Charles Surface? and also take as a compliment Sheridan's
assurance that he had "entirely _executed_ his design?"
Nevertheless fortune attended the Kemble management, although George
III.'s especial patronage was bestowed on the rival house. It had
its perils, and once brought him to a _duello_ with James Aikin,
a spirited actor, who had caused the destruction of the Edinburgh
Theatre through his refusal to beg pardon of the audience on his
knees. His only offence was in having succeeded a favourite, but
discharged actor, named Stayley. In this duel, fought in Marylebone
Fields, with Jack Bannister as sole second to both combatants,
Aikin's fire was not returned by his manager, and the adversaries
were soon reconciled.
With a short interval John Kemble was manager of Drury Lane till
1801.[69] In the following year he went abroad, the affairs of Drury
having fallen into confusion; and in 1803, having purchased a sixth
share of Covent Garden, he succeeded Lewis in the management of that
theatre, and remained there till his retirement in 1817, at the
close of the season in which Mr. Macready made his first appearance
in London, as Orestes; and Lucius Junius Booth, as Richard, flashed
promise for a moment and straightway died out.
With Kemble's departure from Drury Lane closes the first part of
his career. He had begun it with £5 per week, and ended it with a
weekly salary strangely reckoned of £56, 14s. He had borne himself
well throughout. He had a lofty scorn of anonymous assailants; was
solemn enough in his manners not to give a guinea, for drink, to the
theatrical guard, without stupendous phrases; but he could stoop to
"knuckle down" at marbles with young players on the highway; and to
utter jokes to them with a Cervantic sort of gravity.
He addressed noisy and unappreciative audiences with such neat satire
that they thought he was apologising, when he was really exposing
their stupidity. I do not know if he were generous in criticism of
his fellow actors; he said of Cooke's Sir Pertinax, that comedy had
nothing like it. This had been called "liberal;" but it looks to
me satirical; and he certainly never praised Cooke's tragedy. The
utmost, indeed, he ever said of Kean was, that "the gentleman was
terribly in earnest." On the other hand, his own worshippers nearly
choked him with incense. Boaden may not have been far wrong when he
said that Kemble was at the head of the Academics, but he certainly
was so in describing Cooke as merely at the head of the vulgar; and
he approached blasphemy when he tells us that Kemble's features and
figure as the Monk in "Aurelio and Miranda" reminded him, and could
only be compared with, those of ONE, to name WHOM would be irreverent!
Kemble's secret of success lay in his indefatigable assiduity. In
studying the part of the Stranger he neglected for weeks, that for
which he was particularly distinguished,--neatness of costume.
Whatever the part he had to play, he acted it as if it were the most
important in the piece; and, like Betterton, Booth, Quin, Barry, and
Garrick, he made his impersonation of the Ghost[70] as distinct a
piece of art as Hamlet, when that character fell to him, in its turn.
Even in Earl Percy, in the "Castle Spectre," an inferior character,
he took such pains as nearly to break his neck, and in the scene of
the attempted escape, fell back, from the high window to which he had
climbed, to the sofa below, from which he had painfully ascended,
with the agility and precision of a harlequin.
Rolla would have seemed to me unworthy of him, but that I remember
Pitt, on seeing him in that character, said, "there is the noblest
actor I ever beheld!" Sheridan had almost despaired of Kemble's
success in Rolla; but Kemble felt that everything was in his favour,
and gave all his own admiration to his sister, who, in Elvira,
rendered so picturesque "a soldier's trull."
I have heard eyewitnesses describe his Octavian, not as a
heart-rending, but a heart-dissolving display, the feelings of the
spectators being all expressed by tears; and yet he could win a laugh
from the same spectators in Young Marlow, and shake their very hearts
again in that mournful Penruddock, his finest effort in comedy; but
in comedy full of tragic echoes.
Next to Penruddock, Boaden classes his Manly, for perfection; I have
heard that parts of his Lord Townly surpassed them both. There the
dignity and gravity were of a quality quite natural to him.
[Illustration: (John Kemble)]
In Henry V. he was so much the King that an earl, Guilford, wrote
an essay by way of eulogy on it; and his Hotspur had but one fault,
that of being incorrectly dressed. In Roman parts, and in the Roman
costume, he seemed native and to the manner born. His Coriolanus
and Hamlet are the characters the most associated with his name.
Nevertheless, I do not discern any great respect, on Kemble's part,
for Shakspeare, in his revival of Coriolanus or of any other of the
plays of the national poet. The revival of Coriolanus was a mixture
of Thomson and Shakspeare's tragedies, with five of the best scenes
in the latter omitted, and what was judicious in the former, marred.
I cannot help thinking that Kemble had only that sort of regard for
Shakspeare which people have for the picturesque, who tear away
ivy from a church tower in order to whitewash its walls.
Then, again, in that matter of Ireland's forgery of "Vortigern," as
Shakspeare's, it is not clear what opinion Kemble held of it previous
to the night of its performance. Mrs. Siddons declined to play
Edmunda; but Kemble's consenting, or rather resolving, to play the
principal character in the tragedy, would seem to indicate that, at
the best, he had no opinion, and was willing to leave the verdict to
be pronounced by the public. I take from a communication to _Notes
and Queries_, by an eyewitness, an account of what took place on that
eventful night when an alleged new piece, by William Shakspeare, was
presented to the judgment of a public tribunal.
"The representation of Ireland's tragedy took place on Saturday,
April 2, 1796. Being one of those who were fortunate in gaining
admittance and a seat on the second row in the pit, I am anxious,
while my life is spared, to state what I saw and heard on this
memorable occasion. The crowd and the rush for admittance were almost
unprecedented. I do not think that twenty females were in the pit,
such was the eagerness of gentlemen to gain admittance. Mr. Ireland's
father, I remember, sat in the front box on the lower tier, with
some friends around him. His son was behind the scenes. There was
little or no disapprobation apparently shown by the audience until
the commencement of the fifth act, when Mr. Kemble, it was probable,
thought the deception had gone on long enough." Such, I think, was
Ireland's own opinion; for in his _Confessions_, published in 1805, I
find the following account of the disapproval of the audience given
by himself.
"The conduct of Mr. Kemble was too obvious to the whole audience to
need much comment. I must, however, remark, that the particular line
on which Mr. Kemble laid such a peculiar stress was, in my humble
opinion, the _watchword_ agreed upon by the Malone faction for the
general howl. The speech alluded to ran as follows; the line in
italics being that so particularly noticed by Mr. Kemble:--
"'Time was, alas! I needed not this spur.
But here's a secret and a stinging thorn,
That wounds my troubled nerves. O Conscience! Conscience!
When thou didst cry, I strove to stop thy mouth,
By boldly thrusting on thee dire Ambition:
Then did I think myself, indeed, a god!
But I was sore deceived; for as I pass'd,
And traversed in proud triumph the Basse-court,
There I saw death, clad in most hideous colours:
A sight it was, that did appal my soul;
Yea, curdled thick this mass of blood within me.
Full fifty breathless bodies struck my sight;
And some, with gaping mouths, did seem to mock me;
While others, smiling in cold death itself,
Scoffingly bade me look on that, which soon
Would wrench from off my brow this sacred crown,
And make me, too, a subject like themselves:
Subject! to whom? To thee, O sovereign Death!
Who hast for thy domain this world immense:
Churchyards and charnel-houses are thy haunts,
And hospitals thy sumptuous palaces;
And, when thou wouldst be merry, thou dost choose
The gaudy chamber of a dying king.
O! then thou dost ope wide thy bony jaws,
And, with rude laughter and fantastic tricks,
Thou clapp'st thy rattling fingers to thy sides:
_And when this solemn mockery is o'er_,
With icy hand thou tak'st him by the feet,
And upward so; till thou dost reach the heart,
And wrap him in the cloak of 'lasting night.'
"No sooner was the above line uttered in the most sepulchral tone of
voice possible, and accompanied with that peculiar emphasis which, on
a subsequent occasion, so justly rendered Mr. Kemble the object of
criticism (viz., on the first representation of Mr. Colman's 'Iron
Chest'), than the most discordant howl echoed from the pit that ever
assailed the organs of hearing. After the lapse of ten minutes the
clamour subsided, when Mr. Kemble, having again obtained a hearing,
instead of proceeding with the speech at the ensuing line, very
politely, and in order to amuse the audience still more, redelivered
the very line above quoted with even more solemn grimace than he had
in the first instance displayed."
During John Kemble's fourteen years' connection with Covent Garden,
he created no new character that added to his fame, except, perhaps,
Reuben Glenroy, in Morton's "Town and Country." His other original
parts were in poor pieces, more or less forgotten. In old characters
which he assumed for the first time during his proprietorship in
Covent Garden, the most successful was Gloucester, in "Jane Shore,"
to which he gave a force and prominency which it had never previously
received. His Prospero was a marvel of dignity and beautiful
elocution, and his Brutus perfect in conception and execution. Of
other parts his Pierre was good, but his Iago was below the level of
more than one fellow-actor; his Eustace de St. Pierre was, perhaps,
as fine as Bensley's, but his Valentine, in the "Two Gentlemen of
Verona," could have been better played, even then, by his brother
Charles.
In judgment, he sometimes erred as Garrick did. He peremptorily
rejected Tobin's "Honeymoon," which, with Elliston as the Duke Aranza
and Miss Duncan as Juliana, became one of the most popular comedies
of the day. He acknowledged his mistake; and he was as ready to
acknowledge the sources of some of his best inspirations. His Wolsey,
for instance, was one of his finest parts, but he confessed that his
idea of the Cardinal was taken from West Digges. He was sensitive
enough as to public criticism, and when about to try Charles Surface,
he wrote to Topham, "I hope you will have the goodness to _give
orders to your people_ to speak favourably of the Charles, as more
depends on that than you can possibly be aware of." The act was
facetiously characterised as "Charles's Martyrdom," rather than
"Charles's Restoration," and Kemble himself used to tell a story how,
when offering to make reparation to a gentleman, for some offence,
committed "after dinner," the gentleman answered that a promise on
Mr. Kemble's part never to play Charles Surface again, would be
considered ample satisfaction. Wine is said to have always made
Kemble dull, but not offensive. Naturally dull he was not, though
he was styled so by people who would have called Torrismond dull,
because he said, "Nor can I think; or I am lost in thought!" Kemble
was lively enough to make a good repartee, when occasion offered.
He was once rehearsing the song in "Coeur-de-Lion,"--which he used
to sing to the blaring accompaniment of French horns, that his voice
might be the less audible,--when Shaw, the leader, exclaimed, "Mr.
Kemble, Mr. Kemble, you really murder the time!" "Mr. Shaw," rejoined
the actor, taking coolly a pinch of snuff, "it is better to murder
Time than to be always beating him, as you are."
He bore misfortune manfully. When Covent Garden, Rich's old house,
with the royal arms in the centre of the curtain, which had hung
on the old curtain at Lincoln's Inn Fields, was burnt down after
the performance of "Pizarro," on the night of the 19th of September
1808, he was "not _much_ moved," though, in the fire, perished a
large amount of valuable property. Mrs. Kemble mourned over the
supposed fact that they had to begin life again, but Kemble, after
long silence, burst into a rhapsody over the ancient edifice, and
straightway addressed himself to the rearing of that new building
which has since gone the way of most theatres. In the completion of
that second playhouse on this spot, he was nobly aided by his patron,
the Duke of Northumberland, who lent him £10,000, and at the dinner
by which the opening was celebrated, sent the actor his bond, that
he might, as a crowning effect, commit it to the flames. It was a
princely act, and he who was thought worthy of being the object of
it, must have been emphatically a gentleman.
In earlier days, Kemble was accustomed to be with the first of
gentlemen. One of the finest of the few left makes some record
of him. Walpole notices Kemble twice; and we find that he held
him superior to Garrick in Benedick, and to Quin in Maskwell. In
September 1789, Walpole writes from Strawberry Hill to the Miss
Berrys: "Kemble, and Lysons the clergyman, passed all Wednesday here,
with me. The former is melting the three parts of 'Henry VI.' into
one piece. I doubt it will be difficult to make a tolerable play out
of them." The only other notice is dated April 1791; when the writer
says to Miss Berry: "_Apropos_ to Catherine and Petruchio, I supped
with their representatives, Kemble and Mrs. Siddons, t'other night,
at Miss Farren's ...," at the bow-window house in Green Street,
Grosvenor Square. "Mrs. Siddons is leaner, but looks well. She has
played Jane Shore and Desdemona, and is to play in the 'Gamester,'
all the parts she will act this year. Kemble, they say, shone in
Othello."
Othello was one of Kemble's effective, yet not his most successful
character; but his figure was well formed for it. He bore drapery
with infinite grace, and expressed every feeling well, by voice,
feature, and glance of the eye--though in the first, as with his
brother Charles, lay his chief defect. It wanted strength. We are
accustomed, perhaps, to associate him most with Hamlet, and old
playgoers have told me of a grand delivery of the soliloquies; a
mingled romance and philosophy in the whole character; an eloquent
bye-play, a sweet reverence for his father, a remembrance of the
_prince_, with whatever companion he might be for the moment, of a
beautiful filial affection for his mother, and of one more tender
which he could _not_ conceal for Ophelia. When Kemble first appeared
in Hamlet, the town could not say that Henderson was excelled, but
many confessed that he was equalled. That confession stirred no
ill-blood between them. "I never had an opportunity," said Kemble,
later, "to study any actor better than myself, except Mr. Henderson."
Of the grandeur and sublimity of the passion-tossed Orestes he gave
so complete a picture that it was said--by that single character
alone he might have reaped immortal fame.
On the other hand, his Biron was only a respectable performance; his
Macbeth on a level with his Othello; his Richard and Sir Giles very
inferior to Cooke's, still more so to those of Edmund Kean; and in
comedy, generally, he was a very poor actor indeed, except in parts
where he had to exercise dignity, express pathos, or pronounce a
sentiment of moral tendency.
"Whene'er he tries the airy or the gay,
Judgment, not genius, marks the cold essay."
The judgment was not always sensibly exercised, for Kemble was
undoubtedly
"For meaning too precise inclined to pore,
And labour for a point unknown before."
I think, in the old Roman habit he was most at his ease; there art,
I am told, seemed less, nature more. In this respect he was exactly
the reverse of Garrick, who could no more have competed with him in
delineating the noble aim of the stern Coriolanus, than Kemble could
have striven successfully against Garrick's Richard, or Abel Drugger.
And yet all the characters originally played by him, and successfully
established on the stage, are of a romantic and not a classical cast.
The prating patriot Rolla, the stricken, murmuring, lost Octavian,
by which he sprung as many fountains of tears as his sister in the
most heart-rending of her tragic parts; his chivalrous Coeur-de-Lion,
his unapproachable Penruddock, his Percy ("Castle Spectre"),
his Stranger, his de l'Epée, his Reuben Glenroy (the colloquial
dialogue of which character, however, was always a burthen to him),
and his De Montfort, are all romantic parts, to many of which he
has given permanent life; while more classical parts for which he
seemed more fitted, and in plays of equal merit at least, such as
Cleombrotus ("Fate of Sparta"), Huniades (which certainly is not
_romantic_),--his Pirithous, and his Sextus ("Conspiracy"), are all
forgotten. That his sympathies were classical, may in some sort be
accepted from the fact, that he began his public life in 1776 (the
year of Garrick's farewell), at Wolverhampton, with Theodosius, and
closed it, at Covent Garden, in 1817, with Coriolanus. That Kemble's
own departure from the stage did not, as was once expected, prove
its destruction, is to be gathered from the circumstance that while
his farewell performances were in progress, Sheil's tragedy of the
"Apostate" was produced at the same theatre, with a cast including
the names of Young, Macready, C. Kemble, and Miss O'Neill!--and Kean
was then filling Drury Lane with his Richard, Shylock, and Sir Giles.
Kemble's nearest approach to a _fiasco_ was on his playing Sir Edward
Mortimer. The "Iron Chest" had been ill-rehearsed, and Kemble himself
was in such a suffering condition on the first night that he was
taking opium pills as the curtain was rising. The piece failed, till
Elliston essayed the principal part; and, on its failure, Colman
published the most insulting of prefaces to the play, in which
he remarked that "Frogs in a marsh, flies in a bottle, wind in a
crevice, a preacher in a field, the drone of a bagpipe, all--all
yielded to the inimitable and soporific monotony of Mr. Kemble!"
In one class of character Kemble was pre-eminent. He was "the noblest
Roman of them all." His name is closely associated with Coriolanus,
and next with Cato. He was not a "general" actor, like some of his
predecessors, yet he excelled in parts which Garrick declined to
touch. A contemporary says of him, "He is not a Garrick in Richard,
a Macklin in Shylock, a Barry in Othello, or a Mossop in Zanga," and
adds, that "there is more _art_ than _nature_ in his performance;
but let it be observed that our best actors have always found _stage
trick_ a necessary practice, and Mr. Kemble's _methodical_ powers
are so peculiar to himself, that every imitator (for there have been
some who have endeavoured to copy his manners) has been ridiculous
in the attempt." Nevertheless, there was a Kemble school, the last
of whose members is Mr. Cooper, who made his first appearance in
London, at the Haymarket, in 1811, and has not yet, after more than
half a century of service, formally retired from the stage. Not
the least merit of actors formed on the Kemble model, was distinct
enunciation, and this alone, in our large theatres, was a great boon
to a listening audience.
As a dramatic author, Kemble has achieved no great reputation;
he was, for the most part, only an adapter or a translator, but
in both he manifested taste and ability, save when he tampered
with Shakspeare. His solemn farewell, on the 23d of June 1817, in
Coriolanus, was made not too soon; his great powers had begun, after
more than forty years assiduous service, to fail, and he becomingly
wished, "like the great Roman i' the Capitol," that he might adjust
his mantle ere he fell. The memory of that night lives in the heart
of many a survivor, and it lived in that of its hero till he calmly
died, after less than six years of retirement at Lausanne, in
February 1823. The old student of Douay never formally withdrew from
the Church, of which his father once destined him to be a priest, but
he remained a true Catholic Christian, with a Protestant pastor for
friend and counsellor, who was at his side, with a nearer and dearer
friend, when the supreme moment was at hand. Such was the man. As an
actor, he lacked the versatility and perfection of Garrick and Barry;
and, says Leigh Hunt, "injured what he made you feel, by the want of
feeling himself."
Of John Kemble's brothers, Stephen and Charles, the former was the
less celebrated, but he was not without merit. The fame of his sister
induced him to leave a chemist's, or an apothecary's counter, for
the stage, as, later in life, the reputation of the eldest brother
tempted Charles Kemble to abandon an appointment in the Post Office,
in order to try his fortune as a player. In these respective trials
Stephen was less fortunate than Charles. Born in 1758, on the night
his mother played Anne Boleyn, he was by seventeen years the elder
of the latter. His theatrical life commenced in Dublin, after an
itinerant training; but there John extinguished Stephen; and when,
in 1783, he appeared at Covent Garden, as Othello, to the Desdemona
of Miss Satchell, afterwards his wife, whatever impression he may
have made, Stephen was speedily swept from public favour by the
greater merit of John. After subsequently playing old men at the
Haymarket, Stephen opened a house in Edinburgh, against Mrs. Esten
at the established theatre. The opposition led to, in some sense, a
dignified strife. The Duke of Hamilton loved Mrs. Esten, and the Duke
of Northumberland was a friend to the Kembles. In the law proceedings
which followed, each Duke gave material support to his favourite, and
here was the old feud of Douglas and Percy again raging in the north!
Ultimately Stephen left Edinburgh with no great amount of luck to
boast of, and, after a wandering life, appeared, in 1803,[71] at
Drury Lane, as Falstaff, after the delivery by Bannister of a heavy
set of jocular verses, making allusion to his obesity, which enabled
him to act Falstaff without stuffing! He did not act it ill; but
Henderson had not yet faded from the memory of playgoers, and Stephen
Kemble could not attain higher rank than a place among the best of
the second class of actors. Again he disappeared from the metropolis,
but returned, and played a few of the parts to which he was suited,
rather by his size than his merits; and in 1818, at Drury Lane, where
he assumed the office of manager, opened the season by introducing
his son Henry, from Bath, as Romeo. In 1819 he played Orozembo; and
"therewith an end." The theatre was then let to Elliston; Henry
Kemble sank from Drury to the Coburg,[72] and Stephen withdrawing to
a private life, not altogether ill provided, died in 1822.
[Illustration: (Charles Kemble)]
In that last year his younger brother Charles had attained, had
perhaps rather passed, the zenith of a reputation of which his early
attempts gave no promise whatever. Hard work alone made a player of
him. He could not have been a post-office clerk long after he left
the Roman Catholic College at Douay, for he was but seventeen when
he first acted, at Sheffield, in 1792, Orlando, in "As You Like
It." He began with Shakspeare, and he ended with him; his farewell
being in Benedick, at Covent Garden, in 1836. On both occasions he
played the part of a lover, and at the end of forty years he probably
played it with more grace, tenderness, ardour, and spirit, than
when he began.
There was much judgment in selecting Malcolm for his first appearance
in London on the 21st of April 1794, on the opening of New Drury
Lane Theatre, the house built by Holland, and burnt in 1809,--to the
Macbeth and Lady Macbeth of John Kemble and Mrs. Siddons. He had
little in his favour but good intentions. He was awkward in action,
weak in voice, and ungraceful in deportment. All these defects he
corrected, except the weakness of voice, which he never got over. It
did not arise from the asthmatic cough which so often distressed his
brother, but from simple debility of the organ, and this weakness
always marred parts in which he was called upon for the expression of
energetic passion.
Gradually, Charles Kemble became one of the most graceful and refined
of actors. He was enabled to seize on a domain of comedy which his
brother and sister could never enter with safety to their fame.
In his hands, secondary parts soon assumed a more than ordinary
importance from the finish with which he acted them. His Laertes
was as carefully played as Hamlet, and there was no other Cassio
but his while he lived, nor any Faulconbridge then, or since, that
could compare with his; and in Macduff, Charles Kemble had no rival.
Rae's Edgar was considered one of that gentleman's most effective
parts, but Charles Kemble may be said to have superseded him in it.
In the tender or witty lover, the heroic soldier, and the rake, who
is nevertheless a gentleman, he was the most distinguished player
of his time. Of all the characters he originated, that of Guido,
in Barry Cornwall's "Mirandola," was, perhaps, his most successful
essay: it was certainly among the most popular of his performances
during the run of that play. I find his Jaffier, indeed, praised
as being superior to that of any contemporary; but whatever be
the character he represented, I also find critics occasionally
complaining of a certain languor, and now and then a partial loss of
voice, after it had been much exercised, which interfered with the
completeness of the representation. Sheridan always thought well of
him, particularly after his performance of Alonzo in "Pizarro;" the
grateful author used to address him as "my Alonzo!"
Charles Kemble's Hamlet was as fine in conception but inferior
in execution to his brother's. Such, at least, as I am credibly
informed, was the judgment delivered by Mrs. Siddons. That it was
finely conceived, yet weaker in every point than Young's, I can well
remember. In tragic parts there was a certain measured, however
musical enunciation, of which Charles Kemble never got rid, and in
the play of the features, the actor, and not the man represented,
was ever present. This was particularly the case in Hamlet, in
which his assumed seriousness rendered his long face so much longer
in appearance than ordinary, that in the rebuke to his mother his
eyebrows seemed to go up into his hair, and his chin down into his
waistcoat.
That his voice ill-fitted him for passionate, tragic heroes they
will recollect who can recall to mind his Pierre and that of Young!
Charles Kemble looked the part to perfection, and dressed it with
the taste of a gentleman and an artist. Nothing could be finer, more
gallant, more easy and graceful, than his entry; but he had scarcely
got through "How fares the honest partner of my heart?" than the
_pipe_ raised a smile; it was so unlike the full, round, hearty,
resonant tone in which Young put the query, and indeed played the
part.
Nor was Charles Kemble invariably successful in all the comic
parts he assumed. His Falstaff I would willingly forget. It was a
mistake. When Ward, as the Prince, exclaimed "Peace, chewet, peace!"
the command seemed very well timed. But his Mercutio! In that he
walked, spoke, looked, fought, and died like a gentleman. Some of
his predecessors dressed and acted it as if this kinsman to the
Prince and friend to Romeo had been a low-bred, yet humorous fellow,
cousin to the lacqueys, Abraham and Peter; but Charles Kemble was as
truly Shakspeare's Mercutio as ever Macklin was Shakspeare's Jew.
In comedy of another degree; in Young Mirabel, for instance, in the
"Inconstant," he was unequalled by any living actor. Indeed his
spirits here sometimes overcame his judgment; as in the last scene,
when he is saved by the arrival of the "Red Burgundy," he leaped into
the air like a man who is shot, and snapping his fingers, danced
about the stage in a very ecstasy of delirium, too great, I thought,
for a brave young fellow extricated from an awful scrape. But,
whatever may be the worth of such thought, it is certain that in his
Mirabel the delighted audience saw no fault; and who ever did in his
Benedick?
Happy in his successes, he was thrice happy in his pretty and
accomplished wife. Maria Theresa Decamp was one year his junior;
and, like himself, was born in the purple. Miss Decamp's real name
is said to have been De Fleury. She was a Viennese by birth. Her
family belonged to the ballet and the orchestra, and she herself,
at six years of age, was dancing Cupid in Noverre's ballets at the
London Opera House; and, ultimately, was a leading, very young lady
in those at the Circus, now the Royal Surrey. From the sawdust of
the Transpontine Theatre she was transferred, on the recommendation
of the Prince of Wales, it is said, to figure in similar pieces, at
Colman's house in the Haymarket.
She was reserved, however, for better things than this: but Miss
De Camp was not to attain them without study; she had to learn
English--to speak and to read it; music, and other accomplishments.
By a genius all this may be speedily effected; and Miss De Camp, in
the season of 1786-87, appeared at Drury Lane as Julie, in "Richard
Coeur de Lion," her future brother-in-law playing the King. At this
time she was scarcely in her teens; but she was full of such promise,
that she bade adieu for ever to ballet and the sawdust of the Royal
Circus, and henceforth, and for upwards of thirty years, belonged to
the regular drama. A score of years was to elapse before she was to
change her name; but long previously she had made that first name
distinguished in theatrical annals. She had exhibited unusual merit
in singing and acting Macheath to the Polly of Charles Bannister, and
the Lucy of Johnstone; and she created characters with which her name
is closely associated in the memory of playgoers or playreaders. She
was the original Floranthe in the "Mountaineers," Judith in the "Iron
Chest," Irene in "Bluebeard," Maria in "Of Age To-morrow," Theodore
in "Deaf and Dumb," Lady Julia in "Personation," Arinette in "Youth,
Love, and Folly," Variella in the "Weathercock," and Morgiana in the
"Forty Thieves."
And while the glory she derived from this last performance was
still at its brightest, Miss De Camp in 1806 married Mr. Charles
Kemble--some rather tempestuous wooing, for so tender and gallant a
stage-lover, but for which he rendered public apology, not impeding
the match.[73] In the year of her marriage Mrs. C. Kemble joined
the Covent Garden Company, and on making her appearance as Maria in
the "Citizen," she was congratulated, on the part of the audience,
by three distinct rounds of applause. Between this period and 1819,
when she withdrew from the stage, she created two parts in which she
has had no successor, Edmund in the "Blind Boy," and Lady Elizabeth
Freelove in "A Day after the Wedding;" and, in the last year of her
acting, Madge Wildfire in the "Heart of Mid-Lothian."
Ten years later, Mrs. Charles Kemble returned to the stage (October
5, 1829), to do for her daughter what Mrs. Pritchard, on a like
occasion, had done for her's--namely, as Lady Capulet, introduce the
young _débutante_ as Juliet. This one service rendered, Mrs. Charles
Kemble finally withdrew.
She had a pleasant voice; charming, but not powerful in her early
days, as a vocalist. In sprightly parts, in genteel comedy, in all
chambermaids, in melodramatic characters, especially where pantomimic
action was needed, she was excellent. Genest, who must have known
her well, remarks, that "no person understood the business of the
stage better; no person had more industry; at one time she almost
lived in Drury Lane Theatre. The reason of her not being engaged
after 1819 is said to have been that she wanted to play the young
parts, for which her time of life, and her figure (for she had grown
fat), had disqualified her; whereas if she would have been contented
to have played Mrs. Oakly, Mrs. Candour, Flippanta, and many other
characters of importance, which were not unsuitable to her personal
appearance, it would have been greatly to her own advantage, and to
the satisfaction of the public."
[Illustration: (Fanny Kemble)]
Charles remained on the stage till December 1836, but he returned
for a few nights, a year or two later, when he went through a series
of his most celebrated parts, for the especial gratification of the
Duchess of Kent and the Princess Victoria, and for the gratification
of the public generally. Occasionally he reappeared as a
"Reader," in which vocation, his refined taste, his judgment, and his
graceful, though not powerful elocution, were manifest to the last.
Mr. and Mrs. Charles Kemble added something to our dramatic
literature; the lady's contribution to which, "A Day after the
Wedding," still affords entertainment whenever it is performed. Her
other piece, "First Faults," is now forgotten. Charles Kemble's
additions to the literature of the stage, comprise the "Point of
Honour," "Plot and Counterplot," and the "Wanderer;" the first two
being translations from the French, and the third from the German.
In his later days Charles Kemble was afflicted with deafness, so
complete that he could not hear the pealing thunder, but could fancy
it was in the air; for, as he once remarked amid the crash, "I feel
it in my knees!" It was, perhaps, this affliction which occasionally
gave him that look of fixed melancholy which he occasionally wore.
Of anecdotes of his later time, there are few known to me of any
interest, except the following, which I cull from the _Athenæum_. It
is in reference to his son, Mr. J. M. Kemble's Lectures at Cambridge,
_On the History of the English Language_, which were unsuccessful.
"After making a good deal to do about them," says the correspondent
of the _Athenæum_, "he obtained the use of the Divinity School to
lecture in, and it was pretty well crowded at the first lecture;
but the lecture itself was such a sickener, and so unintelligible,
that at the second, myself, and I think two others, formed the whole
audience. The appearance was so absurdly ridiculous in the large
room, that Kemble gave notice, in announcing the day of his third
lecture, that in future he should deliver them at his own private
apartments. Meanwhile his father, Charles Kemble, the actor, came to
see him, and on the day fixed for the third lecture, nobody was there
to hear him but his said father and I; upon which, when we had waited
in vain nearly an hour for an increase of audience, I moved, and his
father seconded the proposal, that instead of inflicting the lecture
upon us two, the lecturer should send into Trinity College buttery,
as it was then the hour it was open, and procure a quantity of ale
and cheese, for the excellence of both which Trinity College was
celebrated, and with the aid of these we passed the afternoon. Such
was the end of Kemble's lectures."
Rogers has left in his _Table Talk_ some record of the Kembles,
which, as coming from an eye and ear witness, may find admission
here. From this we learn that Mrs. Siddons, to whom he had been
telling an anecdote showing that, when Lawrence gained a medal at
the Society of Arts, his brothers and sisters were jealous of him,
remarked:--"Alas! after _I_ became celebrated, none of my sisters
loved me as they did before!" And then, when a grand public dinner
was given to John Kemble on his quitting the stage, the great actress
said to the poet, "Well, perhaps, in the next world women will be
more valued than they are in this." "She alluded," says Rogers, "to
the comparatively little sensation which had been produced by her
own retirement from the boards; and, doubtless, she was a far, far
greater performer than John Kemble."
When young, she had superseded Mrs. Crawford (Barry), then in her
old age, and she rejoiced in being rid of so able a rival; but when
other competitors crossed her own path, Mrs. Siddons rather unfairly
remarked that the public were fond of setting up new idols, in
order to mortify their old favourites. She had herself, she said,
been three times threatened with eclipse; first, by means of Miss
Brunton (afterwards Lady Craven); next, by means of Miss Smith (Mrs.
Bartley); and, lastly, by means of Miss O'Neill--"nevertheless,"
she is reported to have said, "I am not yet extinguished." She then
stood, however, with regard to Miss O'Neill exactly as Mrs. Crawford
(Barry) had stood with respect to herself--the younger actress
carried away the hearts, the older lived respected in the memories
of the audience. But over audiences, Mrs. Siddons had, in her day,
deservedly reigned supreme; and that should have been enough of
greatness achieved by one whom Combe remembered to have seen, "when
a very young woman, standing by the side of her father's stage, and
knocking a pair of snuffers against a candlestick, to imitate the
sound of a windmill during the representation of some harlequinade."
When she had departed from the scene of her glory, the remembrance
of that glory did not suffice her. When Rogers was sitting with her,
of an afternoon, she would say, "Oh, dear! this is the time I used
to be thinking of going to the theatre; first came the pleasure of
dressing for my part; and then the pleasure of acting it; but that
is all over now." This was not vanity, but the natural wail of an
active spirit forced to be at rest. There was less dignity in the
retirement of John Kemble, if what Rogers tells us be true, that
"when Kemble was living at Lausanne, he was jealous of Mont Blanc;
and he disliked to hear people always asking, 'How does Mont Blanc
look this morning?'"
The two greatest rivalries that John Kemble had to endure, before the
final one, in which Kean triumphed, emanated from two very different
persons--George Frederick Cooke and Master Betty. The success of both
marks periods in stage history, and demands brief notice here.
FOOTNOTES:
[63] If this means that his supporters changed about and asked him to
apologise, it is a strange perversion of the story.
[64] These ladies appeared in the beginning of 1783, previous to both
brothers' appearances.
[65] The "Gamester" preceded "King John," being played on 22d
November, while "King John" was not played till 10th December.
[66] They almost certainly played in the "Countess of Salisbury"
together on 13th April 1784; they undoubtedly were both in "Tancred
and Sigismunda" on 24th April 1784, in the "Carmelite" on 2d December
1784, and in the "Maid of Honour" on 27th January 1785.
[67] This must refer to Kemble's benefit, 6th April 1786.
[68] Dr. Doran evidently considers that Kemble became manager about
10th October 1788--the date of his address to the public on the
subject of his new position. On the 30th September he had acted
Hamlet; on 16th October he played Macbeth; on 20th October Lord
Townly.
[69] Kemble and Mrs. Siddons retired from Drury Lane in 1802.
[70] I can find no record of his having played this part.
[71] 7th October 1802.
[72] Henry Kemble sank into abject distress; he and his wife were
glad to be allowed to take care of unoccupied houses.--_Doran MS._
[73] Is Dr. Doran not thinking of John Kemble's public apology?
[Illustration: INTERIOR OF DRURY LANE THEATRE.]