He was making rapid strides towards fame and fortune, establishing himself in the best society, with hosts of influential friends in every place he appeared in. One of his early and warmest patronesses was the late Duchess of St. Al bans, from whose kindness he obtained many valuable introductions. The theatres were crowded wherever he acted. He presented the extraordinary and unique instance of an actor without London popularity, proving himself the safest speculation, and the most attractive "star" a manager could venture to engage. Charles Kean had now arrived at the culminating point of his theatrical lifethe apex, as it might be called, of his career. He had, it is true, achieved great marvels in the country, his hold on all the leading theatres was well secured, and, to a certain extent, he was perfectly independent of the metropolis. But still, London success was the key-stone of his ambition-the crowning glory to which he aspired. The time had come when the question was to be decided, whether he had formerly been held down by prejudice, or really had not the abilities so pertinaciously denied to him. He was twenty-seven years of age, and had served an arduous apprenticeship of nearly eleven years. He was now to take his degree permanently amongst the magnates of his craft, or sink for ever into the ranks of mediocrity. His enemies (for who has not enemies?) loudly predicted his failure. According to them, he was nothing but "a lucky humbug," trading on his name and resemblance to his father. "Let him only face a London audience," said they, "and he will be found out at once." If they were right, all the audiences in the leading cities throughout the kingdom, all the provincial press, were in a conspiracy to be wrong. His numerous friends, on the other hand, were equally confident of his triumph.

Mr. Macready, when he entered on the management of Covent Garden, in 1837, had invited Charles Kean to join his company, and the following interesting correspondence took place between them :

"TO CHARLES KEAN, ESQ.

"8, Kent Terrace, Regent's Park, London, "July 22nd, 1837.

"DEAR SIR,-The newspapers may, perhaps, have informed you that I have taken Covent Garden Theatre. I have embarked in this hazardous enterprise, congenial neither to my habits nor disposition, in the hope of retrieving, in some measure, the character of our declining art, or at least of giving to its professors the continuance of one of our national theatres as a place for its exercise, which most persons despaired of. The performers have met the sacrifice I am prepared to make with a spirit highly laudable to their feelings, and I trust the event will prove not discreditable to their judgment. Every one has consented to a reduction of his or her claims, and I believe the names of all our principal artists are entered on my list. Your celebrity has, of course, reached me: in the most frank and cordial spirit I invite you to a participation in the struggle I am about to make. I understand that your expectations are high; let me know your terms, and if it be possible I will most gladly meet them, and do all in my power to secure your assistance, and give the complete scope to the full development of your talents.

"I will not further allude to the cause for which I am making this effort, than to express my belief and confidence that your own disposition will so far suggest to you its professional importance, as to insure us against any apprehension of your becoming an antagonist, should you decline (as I sincerely trust you will not) enrolling yourself as a co-operator.

"I remain, dear sir, very faithfully yours,

"TO W. C. MACREADY, ESQ.

"W. C. MACREADY."

"Cork, July 27th, 1837.

"DEAR SIR,-I have had the honour to receive your very courteous letter; and permit me, before I answer that portion of it which relates to myself, to congratulate you on the assumption of the Covent Garden management.

"I assure you, with great sincerity, I think it a most fortunate circumstance for the drama and the public, that you have placed yourself at the head of this theatre, and that you occupy a position where your energies will sustain, your taste improve, and your influence elevate the stage. No one could be more fitly chosen to preside where you do now-I say this without hesitation, and distinctly—because, from your well-understood predilection for our classical plays, and your own range of parts, you will give those plays every possible preference; and thus (to use your own words) "retrieve in some measure the character of our declining art." Connected as you now are with Covent Garden, controlling its business, and set over its destinies, allow me to wish you, for your own sake and that of the profession, a long term of prosperous management. For your offer to me of an engagement, and your assurances of

giving "ample scope to the full development of my talents," I thank you very much. Your invitation, and the kind and handsome manner in which you offer it, are most flattering to me; and though neither my inclination nor my interests point to London just now, still I set due value upon your encouraging proposal. But let me tell you frankly, that were I to go to London, there have occurred some circumstances between Mr. Bunn and me, whereby he might hold me bound (were it only partially so) to him; and even in a case where a contract was perhaps but implied, if Mr. Bunn made it a question of honour with me, I should, of course, be governed by the absolute and arbitrary dictate of such a monitor. I repeat, however, I do not contemplate a movement towards London for the present.

"Another point in your letter demands a few words. You express your confidence that my own disposition will so far suggest to me the professional importance of your present enterprise, as to assure you against my becoming an antagonist elsewhere, should I decline your offer to co-operate with yourself. You may indeed believe that I could not, neither would I, oppose myself to the interests of any establishment, or any individual. But surely you could never suppose that my acceptance of an engagement at any time, with any manager of the other great theatre, would involve hostility to you. The interests of both the national theatres are alike important to the public. I should naturally consider my own advantage in connecting myself with either, consistently with my rank in the drama, and its welfare generally; and were I to assent to your view of the case, I should necessarily shut myself out of a large sphere of action. I might deprive myself of those professional associations I most valued. I should, in fact, compromise my professional freedom and independence; and it does not belong to the proud eminence you have yourself attained, to narrow my efforts in working out my individual fame. I labour hard in my profession, and in doing this, if I can in any way, or at any season, contribute to your success, while honourably zealous for my own, it will gratify my feelings and my heart.

"I remain, dear sir, truly yours,

"TO CHARLES KEAN, ESQ.

"CHARLES KEAN."

"Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, "August 2, 1837.

“DEAR SIR,—I beg my observations may not be considered in the light of a desire to limit you in any way. I intended to convey to you my intention to concede as liberal terms as I could suppose either you could demand, or any manager, with the means or purpose of paying you, could grant. Any expectation founded on such an intention, was not meant to make a part of the business of my letter. In inviting you to London, I fulfil a duty that devolves on me with my office, and I do so in the most frank and liberal spirit.

"I shall regret your absence, should you think it right to reject my overtures; and, with my very cordial thanks for the kind expressions of your letter,

"I remain, dear sir, yours truly,

"W. C. MACREADY."

Charles Kean judged that, according to the plan laid down by Mr. Macready, it could scarcely come within his views to place him in the exclusive position at which he now aimed. He therefore paused to deliberate before he hazarded the London venture, and finally closed with the offer of Mr. Bunn to act twenty nights at Drury-lane, with a salary of £50 a night. That he decided wisely in preferring an arena entirely unoccupied, is evidenced by the result. Had he fallen into the ranks at Covent Garden, he might have proved a valuable recruit, but would never have risen to a baton of command.

On the 8th of January, 1838, he appeared as Hamleta memorable evening in his own history, with a triumphant issue, never surpassed in the history of the stage. He was received with enthusiasm. From his entrance to the close of the performance the applause was incessant. The celebrated point "Is it the King?" in the third act, produced an electrical effect to use a favourite expression of his father's, "the pit rose at him!"*

At the conclusion he was called for, and hailed with reiterated acclamations. "Caps, hats, and hands applauded him to the clouds." The success was solid, substantial. There were no hired claqueurs, no packing in the pit, no undue influence to forestall unbiassed judgment. It was an honest verdict; and on

* "The closet scene with his mother was acted with great power. His attitude and look when, having slain Polonius, he rushes in, exclaiming, Is it the king?' fully deserved the immense applause which followed one of the most striking scenic exhibitions which we have witnessed for a long time."-Times, January 9th, 1838.

the following morning the leading journals corroborated the opinion of the public. The articles were elaborately written, with critical acumen, and with candour, kindness, and ability. It was stated that "he fully deserved the frequent applause bestowed by a house crowded from the pit to the gallery," and that he had given a very elegant and finished portrait of Hamlet;"* that, "in the most palmy days of Old Drury, a greater success, or a more decided hit had never been achieved;" and that "his engagement would prove of the utmost advantage to the theatre't-that "his acting was excellent throughout, his triumph most complete, and his fortune secured." We have selected these short extracts at random, and could multiply them readily from many other papers, but space precludes, and enough are given to shew that the impression of this first performance was most flattering to the actor, and fully vindicated the judgment of his friends.

There was now no longer any doubt as to the position he was henceforward to hold. His place in the foremost rank of the profession was established. His performances were continued for forty-three nights, and would have been protracted to a much longer period, without intermission, but that a previous engagement in Edinburgh interfered, and compelled his temporary absence from London. He felt the full disadvantage of this break, but determined not to disappoint his northern friends, to whom he was under many obligations.

Attentions were now lavished on him from every side; his society was courted by persons of the highest rank; his table literally groaned beneath the weight of cards, invitations, and congratulatory letters. But "surgit amari aliquid," even in life's most honied intervals. He was beset from morning till night by innumerable petitions for relief from unemployed actors, decayed artists, and semi-genteel mendicants. Claims from some he had known and often assisted before, with demands from others whose names he had never heard mentioned. Between the 8th of January and the close of March he received £2,100, and was asked to lend or bestow at least £6,000! These worthy applicants undoubtedly considered him as public property, and that having made a fortune in less than three months, he had nothing to do but give it away again.

On the 30th of March, he received the high compliment of a public dinner, in the saloon of Drury-lane Theatre, on which occasion he was also presented with a magnificent silver vase, value £200, bearing the following inscription :

"PRESENTED TO CHARLES KEAN, ESQUIRE,

By the admirers of his distinguished talents,

At a public dinner,

Given to him in the Saloon of the Theatre-Royal, Drury-Lane,

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD VISCOUNT MORPETH, M.P., IN THE CHAIR."

At this dinner Lord Morpeth, now Earl of Carlisle, who had long been a zealous patron and warm admirer of Charles Kean, was to have presided, but he was detained unexpectedly in the House of Commons, and the chair was taken and most ably filled by the Vice-President, the Marquis of Clanricarde. Above one hundred and fifty persons were present, including many names eminent by their talent and literary reputation. The speeches, as may be supposed, were eloquent and characteristic. That of Charles Kean, in particular, was remarkable for the modest and unassuming tone in which he spoke of himself and his pretensions. During this, his first engagement in London, he appeared in only three characters Hamlet, Richard III., and Sir Giles Overreach. Hamlet he acted twenty-one nights (twelve without intermission), Richard III. seventeen, and Sir Giles five. The gross receipts amounted to £13,289, making a nightly average of £309. In 1814, when Edmund Kean, the father, made his debut, he played to an average of £484 for a corresponding number of nights, but the prices were then considerably higher, and there are other qualifying circumstances. Weighing all these together, the number of persons present was nearly the same, and there was little actual difference in the comparative attraction. It has been often said that the enormous salaries paid to individual performers

have had a very damaging effect on the interests of the drama. This is quite true in the abstract, and sound as a general principle, but instances, such as the present, furnish unanswerable exceptions. The matter reduces itself to a commercial speculation, and viewed in that light, no one will deny that

"The intrinsic value of a thing

Is just as much as it will bring."

We believe Charles Kean was the first actor of Hamlet (of any note) who gave up the old traditionary practice of having a stocking "down-gyved to his ankle," during that portion of the play where he assumes a disordered intellect—a piece of stage-trickery sufficiently vulgar, and certainly "more honour'd in the breach than the observance." Even Garrick, although a reformer, indulged sometimes in these stage trickeries. It is recorded, that in the closet-scene with the Queen, he had a mechanical contrivance by which the chair fell as if of itself, when he started up on the entrance of the ghost. Henderson, his immediate successor in the part, rejected this, and his doing so was called, by the critics of the day, "a daring innovation."

The popularity of Charles Kean's Hamlet was by no means on the decline; but the public were anxious to see the new performer in another character, and accordingly, in compliance with incessant applications at the box-office, Richard III. was brought forward on the 5th of February. The actor's powers were thus tested in a part of stirring, restless energy, totally distinct from the contemplative philosophy of Hamlet. He achieved another signal triumph. His success, both with the public and the press, fully equalled that of his first appearance. A highly influential organ thus conveyed its opinion:

"When we witnessed Mr. Charles Kean's Hamlet, we saw that he had mind; but we certainly did feel a doubt whether his physical powers would enable him successfully to enact characters where great bodily as well as great mental exertion was required. His performance of last night has dissipated the doubt. His vigour seemed to grow with the exigency of the scene. It is not often that the son inherits any great portion of the genius of the father. In this instance, however, the mantle of the father has fallen gracefully on the Mr. Kean has studied the character thoroughly, he understands it, and plays it in a manner worthy of his name.'

8011.

On the first night of Richard, the Queen was present throughout the entire play, and commanded the manager to express to Charles Kean her extreme approbation of his performance. A New Way to Pay Old Debts was not produced until the engagement was drawing near its close. This play had slumbered on the shelves since the declining days of Edmund Kean, no living actor venturing to grapple with his gigantic reputation in the character of Sir Giles Overreach. It was reserved for his son to do so, and give another proof that his genius was hereditary; but the play, with all its vigour, and the demoniac power of the leading character, is coarse and repulsive, little suited to the extreme fastidiousness of modern delicacy.

When Charles Kean returned from Edinburgh, his London performances were resumed, but with something of diminished attraction. The season was advancing, and the interruption (as all persons experienced in theatrical matters anticipated) had given a check to the flowing tide of success. "A change," too, had suddenly "come o'er the spirit" of the press; some of the influential journals assumed an altered tone, and condemned the identical "points" they had a short time before so warmly praised. It was impossible that a few weeks of absence could have produced any variation in the actor's style, or the measure of his pretensions. A hostile clique was forming, but how, wherefore, or by whom suggested, it would be fruitless to inquire. If professional jealousy, in any shape, had anything to do with this, it never was exercised upon less justifiable grounds. Charles Kean had always proved himself a kind and generous friend to his less prosperous brethren. We could enumerate many instances which have fallen within our own knowledge. He had now to contend occasionally with a cap

Times, February 6th, 1838.

tious criticism and a dissentient opinion; but an overwhelming majority were with him, enough to satisfy the most ambitious candidate for public favour. Universal suffrage is an impracticable chimera.

An actor's fame is greatly advanced by an original character; it places him on his own ground, freed from the disadvantage of comparison. Charles Kean, fully convinced of this, applied to Sir Edward Bulwer, in the hope of being aided by his powerful genius. We insert his letter, with the reply :

"To SIR E. LYTTON BULWER, BART.

:

"Liverpool, November 13th, 1838.

"SIR,-The flattering success which has attended my attempts in the provinces to do justice to the character of Claude Melnotte,* and the debt of gratitude I owe you for the means thus afforded me of advancing my professional career, must be my apology for addressing you, if a better excuse did not exist in your character as an author, and the deserved influence you possess over our dramatic literature. I am most anxious to appear in London in a new part, and I feel that your assistance would be invaluable in the promotion of this purpose, and of my desire to carry out all the objects of the legitimate drama in a spirit of honourable competition. If it should suit your views to give me the benefit of your great talents on this occasion, I shall be sincerely grateful; and though pecuniary considerations can be no object with you, I think it right to add, as a matter of business, that I place myself and a carte blanche at your disposal. I trust there is no indelicacy in saying this, when I reflect how much I should still remain your debtor, by the honour I might hope to derive from the representation of any character from the pen of Sir Lytton Bulwer.

"I have the honour to be, sir,

"Your most obedient servant,

"CHARLES KEAN."

"To CHARLES KEAN, ESQ.

8, Charles-street, Berkeley's-square, "November 14.

"MY DEAR SIR,-Believe me sincerely obliged and flattered by your letter, and the request it contains. The manner in which you express your wish cannot but make me anxious, sooner or later, to comply with it. I fear, however, that at present, heavy engagements, and other circumstances, tedious to enter upon, will not allow me an honour otherwise sincerely to be desired, and which you will permit me to consider not sacrificed, but deferred. For the rest, allow me to assure you that the pecuniary considerations to which you so delicately allude, are not likely to form an obstacle against any future arrangements; and that

"I am, dear sir,

"Very truly your obliged,

"E. LYTTON BULWER."

Early in June, 1839, he entered on his first engagement at the Haymarket, under the management of Mr. Webster, receiving, as at Drury-lane, £50 a night and a benefit. This engagement was extended beyond the number of nights originally settled, Hamlet proving the most popular performance. Towards the close of the summer, anxious once more to visit a country where to (use his own words, in his farewell address to the Haymarket audience), "in his early professional struggles he had found a home to receive and friends to cheer him," he crossed the Atlantic, and, in September, appeared at the National Theatre, in Churchstreet, New York. But a fatality seemed to attend his second visit to the United States. He was suffering from an affection of the throat; his voice gave way, and on the fourth night he entirely broke down. The theatre was destroyed by fire soon after. At Boston, in December, 1839, he narrowly escaped a frightful catastrophe. While acting Rolla, in Pizarro, and standing between the wings, preparatory to his entrance for the dying scene, the child was brought to him; he stepped a pace forward to receive it; the leader of the supernumeraries, named Stimpson, who was also waiting to go on as one of the soldiers, moved into the spot he had left vacant; at that moment a heavy counterweight fell from the machinery above, broke through a slight scaffolding, and crushed the

The hero of Sir E. L. Bulwer's highly popular play of The Lady of Lyons, one of the most successful of modern dramas. This character was first acted in London by Mr. Macready, with great ability.