successor; sent him fruit from Hampton and rewarded him for the impression which his Richard produced upon her by presenting him with the Garter, stage jewels, and various paraphernalia worn by Garrick in the character. Nor did the respect she paid to Kean stop here. When he dined with her at Adelphi Terrace, she assigned him, with a grave solemnity of manner, a particular chair for his accommodation. Why this one in particular?' he asked, and the old lady in reply informed him that it was Garrick's favourite chair, 'Yes, Sir, David's favourite chair, his chair; think of that. You are the only person I think worthy of sitting in it.' A firm friendship between the old lady and the young actor speedily took place; and to Mrs. Garrick, who was often to be seen a welcome visitor at the actor's house, Kean was wont to communicate his professional troubles. On one occasion he complained to her of the inaccurate observations of the critics in their notices of his conceptions, readings, points, and other peculiarities. These people.' he said, 'don't understand their business; they give me credit where I don't deserve it, and pass over passages on which I have bestowed the utmost care and attention. Because my style is easy and natural, they think I don't study, and talk about the sudden impulse of genius.' There is no such thing as impulsive acting; all is premeditated and studied beforehand. A man may act better or worse on a particular night, from particular circumstances; but although the execution may not be so brilliant, the conception is the same. I have done all these things at country theatres, and perhaps better, before I was recognized as a great London actor; but the applause I received never reached as far as London.'-'You should write your own criticisms,' replied the old lady; 'David always did.'-So far from maintaining the authority of his statement that 'there was no such thing as impulsive acting,' Kean frequently proved exactly the contrary. He studied his characters with the greatest anxiety and care; but he frequently rejected the premeditated course. and played in a manner that even his wife, before whom he constantly rehearsed, had not the least conception of. When asked his reason for so doing, he replied, I felt that what I did was right. Before I was only rehearsing.''

Here is a good illustration of the actor's modesty and of his sense of fellowship with his humbler brothers in the craft. It refers to the time of his first appearance in London::-

"Just after he had gone off the stage in one of the scenes of Richard III, and while the thundering applause of the house was rushing after him like an overwhelming torrent, he caught sight of a subordinate performer, dressed as a menial in the play of which he was the hero. Do you not remember me, my friend?' 'No, Sir,' returned the man, somewhat startled at such an unexpected interrogatory; 'I fear that I cannot claim the honour of having ever been known to you.'-'You mistake. Don't you recollect when you played the part of at Drury Lane, that a little boy bore up your train ?-I was that little boy.' The story of the man who claimed to be a brother actor with Garrick, saying, 'When you played Hamlet, I played the Cock,' is precisely the reverse of this."

Among the most interesting original passages in this Life must be reckoned the contribution of Kean's medical friend at Richmond, Dr. Smith. They enable us to see more than has hitherto been seen of the player's later wrestling with life on the stage, and of his inner life at home. Dr. Smith thus writes:

"On the 19th of February, 1831, he was announced to play Othello at Drury Lane. On the morning of that day he told me that he felt so unwell as to find it necessary to send his secretary, Mr. Lee, up to London, with an apology for his inability to perform. To re-assure him, I promised to accompany him if he would go. His eye brightened as he replied, 'It would give me great confidence to know that you were behind the scenes; so I will.' I afterwards found it impossible to go with him in his post-chaise, but I promised to be at the theatre in less than an hour after him. He went. Contrary to my expectations, I was able to reach the theatre before the performance commenced. The announcement that I was Mr. Kean's medical adviser gained me immediate admission to

the back of the stage, and upon going in to the tragedian's dressing-room, I found him seated in the chair before the glass. an attendant colouring his face for Othello, and a goblet of hot brandy-and-water upon the table in front of him. His dressing-room was still haunted by noble and distinguished visitors. some of whom were smoking and drinking with him. Kean seemed very pleased to see me, and, in answer to my inquiries. said that he felt well enough to go through with his part. I pointed to his brandy-andwater, and shook my head. Ah,' he returned, with a melancholy smile, until four years ago I could play without that, but I can't do Othello now without it.' He played very finely, and the audience were in ecstasies. In the fifth act he was nearly exhausted, and when the curtain fell, I found that he was very feeble. His post-chaise, standing outside, ready to part for Richmond, attracted the attention of the people as they went out, and a crowd assembled to see him drive off. It was a beautiful night and they waited patiently until the tragedian, having washed a part of the brown complexion of the Moor from his face and exchanged his rich Oriental dress for that of the nineteenth century, came out. As he issued from the stage-door, they gave him a tremendous cheer; he was then swiftly caught up, and carried in triumph to the post-chaise. 'Hi! Stop!' I cried, thinking that the coachman, who did not know that I was there, would drive off without me. 'Let that gentleman pass through, will you?' said Kean to some of the crowd; he is my medical adviser.' The words were no sooner out of his lips, than I found myself lifted off terra firma, and in the twinkling of an eye deposited by the side of my patient in the post-chaise. He appeared not at all unused to demonstrations like these, and seemed to enjoy my amazement very much. We then drove off at full speed."

We will not take leave of Mr. Hawkins's book without remarking that additional value is conferred upon it by the insertion of some of the fine original old criticisms which were written upon the hero by foremost men of their time. They will, for many reasons, well repay perusal. Not less, certainly, may

be said of the book itself, which, though not without faults, will be received with a full measure of sympathy on the part of all who feel an interest in a glorious, but we fear a defunct, art.

MADAME ROLAND.*

[Edinburgh Review, April, 1865.]

WE live in an age of historical and biographical discovery. Every day brings to light some secret of the past, some hidden and long-sought-for testimony which has baffled the curiosity of our predecessors; and whereas, at first sight, it might appear natural to suppose that the course of time would render the attainment of truth more difficult, experience shows us that time is, in reality, the best auxiliary of historic research. The mere fact of the disappearance from this world's scene of those who have had personal interest in creating mystery or distorting facts, and the extinction of contemporary fears and hatreds, or even of contemporary scruples and delicacy, leave exposed to the curiosity of succeeding generations much that, being concealed, was supposed to be destroyed. Each successive flood of living passion as it subsides leaves bare at the feet of inquiring posterity the stranded vestiges of former wrecks and long-appeased storms.

The curious conjunction of the discovery of some interesting unpublished letters of Madame Roland, and

*1. Etude sur Madame Roland et son Temps. Par C. A. Dauban. Paris, 1864.

2. Mémoires de Madame Roland etc. Par C. A. Dauban. Paris, 1864.

3. Mémoires de Madame Roland etc. Par M. P. Faugère. Paris, 1864.