to the very heart! We have yearned for the last flourish of the tippling. king's trumpets, for the passing of Mr. Murray and Mrs. Powell, for the entrance of Mr. Claremont and Mr. Claremont's other self in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. We have yearned for all these; because then, after a pause, came Hamlet! There he was! The sweet, the graceful, the gentlemanly Hamleti The scholar's eye shone in him with learned beauty! The soldier's spirit decorated his person! His mourning dress was in unison with the fine se vere sorrow of his face; and wisdom and youth seemed holding gracious parley in his countenance. You could not take your eye from the dark in tensity of his you could not look on any meaner form, while his match less person stood in princely perfection before you. The very blue ribband, that suspended the picture of his father around his neck, had a courtly grace in its disposal. There he stood and when he spoke that wise music with which Shakspeare has tuned Prince Hamlet's heart, his voice fell in its fine cadences like an echo upon the ear and you were taken by its tones back with Hamlet to his early days, and over all his griefs, until you stood, like him, isolated in the Danish revel court. The beauty of his performance of Hamlet was its retrospective air-its intensity and abstraction. His youth seemed delivered over to sorrow, and me mory was, indeed, with him the warder of the brain. Later actors have played the part with more energy, walked more in the sun, dashed more at effects, piqued themselves moreon the jerk of a foil; but Kemble's sensible, lonely Hamlet has not been surpassed. Hamlet seems to us to be a character that should be played as if in moonlight. He is a sort of link between the ethereal and the corporeal. He stands between the two Fathers, and relieves the too violent transition from the living king, that bruits the hea vens with his roaring cups, to the armed spirit that silently walks the forest by the glow-worm's light, and melts away when it "gins to pale its ineffectual fire." As far as Prince Hamlet could be played, John Kemble played it, and now that he is gone, we will take care how we en

ter the theatre to see it mammocked by any meaner hand

Mr. Kemble's delineation of Cata was truly magnificent. The hopes of Rome seemed fixed upon him. The fate of Rome seemed to have retired to his tower-like person, as to a fortress, and thence to look down upon the petty struggles of traitors and assassins. He stood in the gorgeous foldings of his robes, proudly pre-eminent. The stoicism of the Roman wrestled with the feelings of the father, when his son was killed; and the contest was terrifically diss played. That line in the Critic, which has always seemed the highest bur lesque, was realized and sublimed in him: "The father relents, but the governor is fixed." If Mr. Kemble had only stood with his grand person in Cato, he would have satisfied the audience, and have told all that Addison intended throughout five long cast-iron acts. 1, ng

There are those amongst his admirers who eulogized him much in Brutus; nay, preferred him in that character. We thought the Roman part of Brutus was admirably pourtrayed; but the generous fears—the manly candour-the tenderness of heart, which rise up through all the Roman stoicism, rather wanted truth and vividness. The whole character was made too meditative, too unmoved. And yet the relation of Pors tia's death renders such objections extremely hazardous. In this part he dared much for the sake of cor rect costume; and we are quite sure that if any other performer had been as utterly Roman in his dress as Mr. Kemble was, that he would have endangered the severity of the tras gedy.

Coriolanus was a Roman of quite another nature; and we rather think Mr. Kemble was more universally liked in this part than in any other The contempt of inferiors suited the haughty tone of his voice; and the fierce impetuosity of the great fights ing young Roman was admirably seconded by the muscular beauty of person in the actor. When he came on in the first scene, the crowd of mob-Romans fell back as though they had run against a wild bull, and he dashed in amongst them in scar let pride, and looked, even in the eyes of the audience, sufficient" to beat

forty of them." Poor Simmons used to peer about for Kemble's wounds like a flimsy connoisseur examining a statue of some mighty Roman. The latter asking to be consul, his quarrel with the tribunes, his appearance under the statue of Mars in the hall of Aufidius, and his taunt of the Volscian just before his death, were specimens of earnest and noble acting that ought never to be lost out of the cabinets of our memories.

In Macbeth this great performer was grandly effective; particularly in the murder scene. Perhaps he fell off in the very concluding scenes; but at the banquet, he was kingly indeed! The thought of the witches always seemed to be upon him, weighing him down with supernatu ral fear. In Richard the Third, he was something too collected, too weighty with the consideration of crime, too slow of apprehension. In this part Mr. Kean certainly has surpassed all others, and we never saw quick intellect so splendidly displayed as in this brilliant little man. In King John, although the character is in itself tedious, Mr. Kemble was greatly elaborate and successful. His scenes with Hubert, and his death, were as powerful as genius could make them. His death chilled the heart, as the touch of marble chills the hand; and it almost seemed that a monument was struggling with Fate! The voice had a horror, a hollowness, superna tural; and it still sounds through our memories, big with death!..

In characters of vehemence and passion, such as Hotspur, Pierre, Octavian, he so contrived to hus band his powers, as to give the most astounding effects in the most prominent scenes in which those characters appeared. And in the melancholy pride and rooted sentiments of such parts as Wolsey, Zanga, the Stranger, and Penruddock, he had no equal. In the latter character, indeed, with apparently the slightest materials, he worked up a part of the most thrilling interest. He showed love, not in its dancing youth and revel of the blood, but in its suffering, its patience, its silent wasting intensity. Mr. Kemble dressed the part in the humblest modern dress, and still he looked some superior creature. Philosophy seemed determined to hold.

her own. The draperied room was shamed by his severe presence. His boots and hose bore a charmed life! Love hung its banner out in his countenance, and it had all the inte rest of some worn record of a longpast contest and victory.

We have seen Mr. Kemble in Lord Townley, in Biron, Sir Giles Overreach, and various other characters'; but we preferred him in the parts upon which we have principally remarked. Although he was filled with the spirit of Massinger in Overreach, and bore the Ancient Drama sternly up, Sir Giles is highly poetical, and cannot be realized by a natural actor. His very vices relish of the schools.

Having thus briefly noticed those characters which Mr. Kemble so completely triumphed in representing, we shall proceed to give a short account of his retirement from Covent-garden Theatre on the 23d of June, 1817, and of the dinner given to him by those admirers who were anxious to testify, by some attention, their value of his classical and exquisite personification of most of the higher characters in the English drama. And we shall then conclude this paper with the circumstances with which we are acquainted res specting his death.

H

When it became publicly known that Mr. Kemble was to retire on the night of the 23d of June, every box in the house was secured, and the orchestra was fitted up for the accommodation of those lovers of the drama who longed to see their great actor once more! All the leading members of the profession were present. Kemble played Coriolanus with an abandonment of self-care, with a boundless energy, a loose of strength, as though he felt that he should never play again; and that he needed to husband his powers no longer!The audience were borne along with him until they approach ed the Rapids of the last act-and then they seemed at once conscious of their approaching fate, and shrank from the Fall! The curtain dropped amidst wild shouts of "No farewell! No farewell!" But, true to himself, the proud actor came forward, evidently" oppressed with grief→→ oppressed with care!" He struggled long for silence and then,

alas! he struggled long before he could break it!At length, he stam mered out in honest, earnest truth "I have now appeared before you for the last time; this night closes my professional life!"-The burst of "No, no!" was tremendous :→→ but Mr. Kemble had "rallied life's whole energy to die," and he stood his ground, continuing his farewell address, when the storm abated, in the following words.--He was of course continually interrupted by his own feelings, and by the ardent cheers, and loud affectionate greetings of the audience.

I am so much agitated that I cannot express with any tolerable propriety what I wish to say. I feared, indeed, that I should not be able to take my leave of you with sufficient fortitude, composure, I mean,— and had intended to withdraw myself from before you in silence ;-but I suffered myself to be persuaded that if it were only from old custom, some little parting word would be expected from me on this occasion. Ladies and Gentlemen, I entreat you to believe, that, whatever abilities I have possessed, either as an actor, in the performance of the characters allotted to me, or as a manager, in endeavouring at a union of propriety and splendour in the representation of our best plays, and particularly of those of the divine Shakspeare; -I entreat you to believe that all my labours, all my studies, whatever they have been, have been made delightful to me, by the approbation with which you have been pleased constantly to reward them.

I beg you, Ladies and Gentlemen, to accept my thanks for the great kindness you have invariably shown me, from the first night I became a candidate for public favour, down to this painful moment of my parting with you! I must take my leave at once.-Ladies and Gentlemen, I must respectfully bid you a long, and an unwilling farewell!

On his retirement, a multitude seemed agonized!-No one knew what to utter-where to look!-a laurel crown and a scroll were handed from the pit to the stage. But he, for whom it was intended, was gone! The manager was called for; and Mr. Fawcett appeared:- he took the wreath, and, declaring the pride he had in being commissioned to present it, withdrew. The people left the theatre, as though they had witnessed a death!

Behind the scenes Mr. Kemble had

actors and actresses wäited to greet him with respect and anxious love! They crowded around him, and several of them entreated some memorial of him. Mathews obtained his san dals!

Some gentlemen had, previously to this night of retirement, contemplated the arrangement of a public dinner to be given to Mr. Kemble, and the idea was soon carried into effect. A public meeting for the purpose was called, and a committee immediately appointed. A subscription was at the same time entered into for a piece of plate to be presented to Mr. Kem ble on the occasion.

Mr. Kemble was invited, and the 27th of June was fixed upon as the day. Men of intellect seemed to vie with each other in endeavouring to pay him honour.

A design for a

vase was furnished by Mr. Flaxman and a medal was struck for the committee. Mr. Poole, the author of several clever dramas, contributed a very elegant inscription for the vase; and Mr. Campbell wrote an Ode, which was committed to Mr. Young to recite, and to Mr. T. Cooke to compose. Lord Holland took the chair at the dinner. The room was thronged with noblemen and gentle men of literary talent and taste and the sight was altogether one of remarkable interest.

4

After dinner, and after the usual toasts, Lord Holland in a neat speech gave the health of Mr. Kemble, and produced the design for the vase (the vase itself not being completed in time) and read the inscription, which was as follows:

By a numerous assembly of his admirers,
In testimony of their

Gratitude, Respect, and Affection,
Was presented,

Through the hands of their President,

HENRY RICHARD VASSAL, LORD HOLLAND, XXVII June, MDCCCXVII.

Mr. Kemble, of course much affected by such heaped up honours, replied with difficulty; his speech, however, was earnest and true-and in public speaking this is no poor character. Much toast-drinking, and complimenting, and speechifying, followed and M. Talma, Mr. West, Mr. Young, and Mr. Mathews, principally supported the debate. Soon after eleven o'clock Lord Holland and Mr. Kemble retired and this was the last time the public could .ever look upon their bright and elassic favourite. Such a day was a -proud one to the profession, of which

Mr. Kemble was the ornament. It proved to the members of it, that cultivation of mind, and regulation of conduct, could and would secure respect and love from the highest and the most enlightened in the nation.

We have now closed Mr. Kemble's public life;-we have no further hopours to record no other scenes of splendour to exhibit;—and it only remains for us to accompany him into his retirement, and to relate the simplicity and goodness of his brief hour of domestic quiet-and to say the little we know of his final, his pious, and his peaceful death.

The climate of England not agreeing with a severe asthma, with which indeed, as our readers well know, Mr. Kemble had long been afflicted; and having run his race of glory with proud speed to the goal, he had nothing more to do than to be happy and to be well. He, therefore, retired to a serene spot of earth, and to warmer airto breathe out his last years in cheerful repose and comfort. His house, called Beausite, was situated at Lausanne-and the sweetness of the climate, and the extreme beauty of the scene (as the name of his residence testifies), seemed to speak long life and healthful quiet to John Kemble. -It had been well for him if he had "sought to know no more;" but the children of fame are a restless race, and Kemble must visit Italy!

-He travelled, therefore, during the last winter to Rome-and became ill immediately. It was with difficulty he returned to Lausanne, to which place, however, his physician peremptorily ordered him; and though he seemed to recover in the air of home, he never really overcame the mal-influence of Romeand his death in a comparatively short time came down upon him.

The following letter, addressed to John Taylor, Esq. of the Sun newspaper, gave the first public information of Mr. Kemble's death. Extract of a Letter from Lausanne, dated 28th February, 1823, addressed to the Editor of the Sun newspaper.

evening, the 24th instant, and the first news Dear Sir, I came here on Monday that I heard was, that your friend Kemble was expiring-not exactly so, however, in point of fact; for he died on the 26th instant. But, in fine, our great tragedian is