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attaining early in life the first rank in bis pro- the irresolule Macbeth, despising his remorse fession.

and terror, she presented to the audience an

awful picture of intrepid guilt. As she grappled MRS. PRITCHARD.

the instruments of death, and exclaimed, “Give

me the daggers," her look and gesture cannot " This lady's delivery of dialogue (says be described, and will not soon be forgotten by Davies), whether of humour, wit, or mere the surviving spectators. At the banquet scene, sprightliness, was never surpassed, or perhaps the discovered, if possible, still greater felicity equalled. Her fame daily increased from the in delineating this terrible character. Mactagerness with which the town focked to see Beth, og beholding ibe ghost of Banquo, betrays her in every new character. Not confined to bimself to his guests by his alarm and perturbaany one walk in acling, she ranged through lion. Mrs. Pritchard's skill in endeavouring them all, and discovered a high degree of merit to engage the aitention of the company, and in whatever she undertook ; her tragic powers draw them from the observation of her lord's were eminent, particularly in parls which re agilation, equalled anything that was ever seen quired force of expression and dignity of figure in the art of acling. In exhibiting the last She excelled as the Queen in Hamlet, and as scene of Lady Macbeth, in which the terrors of Queen Katharine in Henry Vill. ; but the a guilty conscience keep the mind broad awake character which she made especially her own, wbile the body sleeps, Mrs. Pritchard's acting was Lady Macbeth. She gave these parts im- resembled those sudden flashes of lightning which portance by her action, as well as speaking; more accurately discover the errors of surroundher few defects proceeded from a too loud and ing darkness. profuse expression of grief, and a want of grace “She spoke her farewell epilogue with many in ber manner; but her natural ease of deport- tears and sobs, which were increased by the ment, and grandeur of person, concealed every generous feelings of a numerous and splendid nilor sailing. In the course of conversation, audience. She retired to Bath and died ihere, upon even trifling topics, she had a singular about four months after, of a mortification in Melbod of charming the ear; she ullered her her foot.” Fords as Shakspeare advises the actors, smoothly and tripplingly from the tongue; and however

voluble in eounciation her part might require
her to be, not a syllable was ever lost.

This lady was a little above the middle size,
“A remarkable instance of public regard was with a fair complexion, well made, but ra!her
sheen to this lady when she first brought her inclining to the embonpoint. Her hair was of
daughter on the stage. Mrs. Pritchard stooped a light auburn, and fell gracefully on her shoul-
to play Lady Capulet in Romeo and Juliet, in ders, particularly in those parts which required
order to introduce Miss Pritchard in her attempt this mode of head-dress. Her features were
to act Juliet ; the daughter's timidity was con- regular, and corresponding ; and though her
trasted by the mother's apprehensions, which eyes were not naturally strong, or distinctly
were strongly painted in their looks, and these brilliant, they gave a pleasing interesi to her
were incessantly interchanged by stolen glances looks. To all these there was a certain modest
at each other. This scene of mutual sensibility gaité de cæur in her manner and address, that
Tas so affecting, that many of the andience burst ai once conciliated respect and affection.
isto lears, and all were enthusiastic in their Her chief excellence lay in ihe gentle and

pathetic characters of tragedy ; ber Desdemona "In the year 1768, Mrs. Pritchard took leave was a truly admirable effort; the whole part the public, in ber favourile part, Lady being so naturally sustained, that her audience Macbeth; and out of respect to that excellent was cheated into a belief that the sufferings she Woman, Garrick performed the ambitious delincated were real. In her old age the maTiane

, as it happened also, for the last time. nager of Covent Garden theatre induced her to Nos. Pritchard's action, both before and after return to the stage, as the rival of Mrs. Siddons, the murder, was strongly characteristical; it then in the zenith of her popularity.

Coma presented an image of a mind insensible to petent judges have declared that Mrs. Barry smpunction, and indexibly bent to achieve ils was superior in palhos; but ber sine powers purpose. When she snatched the daggers from were then impaired, and the triumph of her

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and as she solemnly inquired, “Will all the school in London. Jo Barry Cornwall's Life perfumes of Arabia sweeten this little hand?" of Kean, we find that Miss Carey afterwards the throbbings of her heart were obvious bolb to claimed him, and made him accompany her in the eye and the ear.

her visits, from house to house, as a vender of

perfumery, which employment she followed in MISS O'NEILL.

the vacancies between her strolling engagements,

The boy was remarkable for his beauty, as well We mention this enchanting actress as the as for his readiness and mischief. He also apmost perfect representative of Juliet that ever peared as a boy actor on the stage, and went graced the stage. To a finely-proportioned through all the difficulties and dangers of a form, a Grecian head and features exquisitely young player's life. We read of his playing harmonized, was added a mind fully capable of one of the little devils in Macbeth, under John conceiving the sublimity and terror of the con- Kemble's management, and tripping up the cluding scenes in the character of Juliet. We heels of his fellow-imps, for which he was chassee her still, as she moved in the light of her lised by the stately tragedian. We read also of own loveliness through the more level business his drawing a little audience around him in the of the play. At first, all playfulness and girlish green-room, by reciting portions of well-known vivacity; then, as in the garden scene, her vo- tragedies. He also at this time officiated as latility of heart linged with a shade of melan- one of the choir-boys in the Roman Catholic choly; the sublle fever of love stealing over her chapel. fine countenance, now giving its roses a deeper He soon afterwards found another protectress, blush, and now leaving it as pale as monu- a Mrs. Clarke, one of his mother's customers ; mental marble. In a little while, the timid, she conlinued to befriend him for some time, and fearful maiden became, without any violence he was current among her acquaintances, at to the spectators' feelings, the resolute, heroic whose bouses he used to exhibit, with bis small woman; and, in one scene, that in which Juliet musler of properties—" a little bell, which he swallows the sleeping potion, not even Siddons, rung when the imaginary music was to begin, in her noblest moments of inspiration, could a hat and feathers, a sword and white gloves," excel her. As she proceeded with her lerrible -some of the liitle plays he made for bimself description of the horrors of the tomb, the vault out of the “Fairy Queen.” of the Capulets seemed to rise : Tybalt, sestering Having absconded from Mrs. Clarke's house, in his shroud, was no longer a dream of fancy; and wandead about the country during three and the madness which usurped the brain of the weeks, she gave him up, after having made a trembling Juliet seemed amply accounted for little benefit for him, and furnished him with a Nothing could equal this, unless it was her own recommendation to a militia officer at Windsor. acting, when on slowly awakening in the mo- He went there, and joined a troop of strollers, nument she becomes conscious of her situation ; with whom he appeared before George III. beholds Romeo just expiring; and, tired of the It is impossible to follow bim through the world and ils sorrows, ends her own in the freaks and changes of his early days; from the frieudly arms of death.

Sans Souci, in Leicester Square, to Sadler's

Wells—to Bartholomew Fair, where he exhibitEDMUND KEAN.

ed himself as an equestrian-to Madeira,—10

Scotland-lo Sheerness—to Ireland—10 RoThis highly talented actor was born on the chester—where, on one occasion, “having no 4th November, 1787. Doubls exist respecting money to pay the toll of a ferry, he tied his his parentage ; his father is supposed to have wardrobe in his pockel-bandkerchief, and swam been Edmund Kean, the brother of Moses Kean, across the river." a tolerable mimic in his day. What is more About this time, someihing like a more settled strange, was his ignorance as to bis mother. purpose“ to achieve greatness” appears to have She was supposed to have been Miss Carey, the animated him, and to have continued with him, grand-daughter of Henry Carey, author of though sadly interrupted by the irregularities of “The Dragon of Wantley,” and other spectacle bis conduct; indeed his life was one of wretchpieces. It seems that Kean believed that Missedness, vicissitude, and neglect. In 1806 be Tidswell was his motuer, as she took care of obtained an engagement to play small parts at him in his childhood and seni him w a day- the Haymarket Theatre. He was Peter, in the Iron Chest ; Simon, in John Bull; a fiddler bard unbending Jew was before us in the full in Speed the Plough, elc. In 1807, he re- vigour of his malignity-lhe injuries upon him appeared at Sheerness, as a man of all work. and apon bis tribe saddened in his eyes, but lo 1808, we find him at Gloucester, where he through them you could trace the dark spirit of made the acquaintance of his future wise ; at revenge, glaring in fearful, imperishable fury. Stroud, where he next weni, be led in every - That night was the starting-post on the great department. Here he married, and afterwards course upon which he was destined to run bis secepted an engagement for himself and wife at splendid race. Swansea ; at this moment he was in such a des- “The second, and, perhaps, the most perfect titate state, that their funds for the journey of his performances, was Richard the Third. after an advance had been made 10 them) Richard, as drawn by Shakspeare, is bold, bloody, were not quite twenty shillings. Mr. Barry and sublle-ambitious, daring, and deceitful gives a most interesting narrative of this jour- amorous and heartless—a courlier—a soldierney, which is one of the most striking instances a king. All the varieties of the character were en record, of the contrasts in the life of an ac- played upon by the actor, as though they were tor. He gives it at length, he says, “in order so many keys of an instrument, and each dillithat all our young readers may see how one of cult passage was mastered with a hand which the high and crowned kings of tragedy was ac- only genius could stretch forth. The scene in customed to travel, before they resolve irreco- which the murderer of Edward wooes Edward's Ferably to enrol themselves under those ragged widow, in the very progress of the funeral,-a and lawdry colours wbich float above the Eng- scene generally conceived to be forced and out lish drama-a sign and prophecy of the of nature,—was rendered, as it is, nalural and player's fortunes.”—

eminently beautiful, by the most enchanting actKean was afterwards a member of Cherry's ing that ever was witnessed on the stage. Again, company, and for some time remained stationary the beautiful description of the night before the at Waterford. He then again was reduced to battle, was delivered in a manner which louched the misery of turning stroller, and travelled description into pathos. The death was desacross the country to Dumfries in a tax-cart, perate and magnificent. with his wife and children. Here he announced The Hamlet of Kean was generally thought kas intention of giving entertainments, consiste to be all, or nearly all, that it should be,-meing of singing and recitation, and began his ditative, natural, and sweetly forlorn,-it quite campaign with one solitary auditor. From took the heart captive. He looked the young bence be worked his weary way up to London, and melancholy Prince, wandering in the desowhere he was engaged for the Exeler Company, lation of his own thought and wrecked passion. "* to act every thing,” at 21. a week, the largest He abandoned himself to the indolent sadness salary be had yet received. Here he attracted of the scene, and was more Shakspearian in his Ibe admiration of Dr. Drury, and through his in- spirit than any other actor we have ever witnessterference, Mr. Arnold went to Dorchester lo ed. The interviews with Ophelia were exbeebim act. The result was an engagement, quisitely touching; and the strange one, in and on the 26th of January, 1814, he first ap- which he burst into a raving rhapsody, was softpeared on the boards of Drury, in the character ened down by an evident suppression of feeling, (Shylock. His debut will not be soon forgot- and was finally touched with the most delicate led.—“ The house was emply of nearly all but ienderness, by his slowly returning after an critics and those wbo came in with orders, and abrupt departure, and, after gazing with inexthe listlessness of the small spiritless audience, pressible love and sadness at Orphelia, gently at the first night of a new Shylock, was the lan- pressing her hand to his lips. guor which is not repose.” There came on a The Othello of Kean was the triumph of that small man, with an Italian face and fatal eye, great tragedian over the majestic horrors and which struck all. Attention soon ripened into gloomy dangers of the character. In the third fraihusiasm ; and never, perhaps, did Kean play act of that inimitable tragedy, the passion would with such startling effect as on this night to the not let him tame, and bis spirit glared out in all surprised few. His voice was harsh, his style ils unquenchable and vivid fire. Those who Tas new, his action abrupt and angular ; but have heard his “Farewell,”* can turn to their there was the decision,-lhe inspiration of ge- * The last character he attempted to play was aius, in the lone, the look, the bearing,—the Othello. Under great suffering and exhaustion,

hearts and feel it still; for it was ullered in that there were passages of singular force in Ri-
forlorn tone which, once heard, can never be chard the Second, he was, at times, deeply af-
forgotten. What convulsive energy hurried him recling—but nothing came up to bis Othello,
into the gloomy gulphs of jealousy and passion! Richard, and Shylock.
How did he yearn to be incredulous and confid No one as an actor had the ball so completely
ing! how did be struggle with a Laocoon's at his foot as Kean bad, but the invelerate
phrenzy in the coils of his serpent suspicions ! whims of genius lured him into every byepath
With Kean bas perished the only perfect piece of passion and pleasure. Frank in bis nature,
of passionate acting that we ever beheld. impetuous in his soul, he knew no calmness of

In Romeo and in Macbelh, Kean was grand object or enjoyment; “ aut Cæsar aut nullus" only in parts, and by fits and starts. In the was his motto, and he never disguised his vices murder scene of Macbeth, and in the banish- or his virtues. With the genius to have been ment scene in Romeo and Juliet, he rose into more than a Garrick in his art, he had the follies the full energy of his genius—but, generally, he and passions at times to reduce him almost bewas hurried, uneasy, and unequal.-In Lear neath a Cooke in his habits.

The death of this surprising actor look place Free he struggled on to this beautiful and affecting apo- at Richmond, on the 15th May, 1833. It was strophe ; and when he concluded the utterance of tranquil, as Death generally is, after a slormy a the words—“Farewell! Othello's occupation 's

and living life! He left no wealth behind; his gone!" he sank back, overcome with the weight fame, however, to those who admired him as of prophetic truth upon a broken constitution, and never appeared again on the stage.

an actor, is “ricbes fineless !"


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What face shall dare to frown.

WEEN Garrick first proposed to institute a nounced by firing the cannon, ranged upon the Jabilee, in honour of our immortal Shakspeare, banks of the Avon, about five o'clock of Wedthe public forined very high expectations of the nesday morning, the 6th of September, 1769, and entertainment they were to receive. The design immediately afterwards, the principal ladies was certainly noble in itself, whatever might were serenaded by a number of young men be the motives; and, in spite of all the ridicule fantastically dressed, belonging to the theatre, and opposition which envy or malice exerted, with the following song, accompanied by hautit was carried into execution. It was allowed, boys, flutes, clarionets, guitars, and other inby men of the first rank in the literary world, struments :that no occasion of festivity ever was, or ever “Let beauty with the sun arise,

To Shakspeare tribute pay; tould be, more justifiable, than that of paying

With beav'nly smiles, and speaking eyes honours to the memory of so great an ornament

Give lustre to the day. to his country, as the inimitable Shakspeare.

“ Each smile she gives protects his name, In the Spring and Summer of 1769, great

Not envy's self can blast the fame, preparations were made in all parts of the town,

Which beauty deigns to crown.” against the approaching festival. A very large

The company were also entertained with the and magnificent octogonal Amphitheatre was

Warwickshire ballad, written by Garrick. The erected upon the Bankcroft, close to the river

whole town being roused by these performances, Avon; and which, to please the prevailing taste,

the corporation assembled, about eight o'clock, somewhat resembled Ranelagh Rotunda: it was

in one of the principal streets. A public breakfast capable of conveniently holding above one thou

was held at the town, or Shakspeare's, hall, at mand spectators.

nine, to which every purchaser of a guinea ['pon the margin of the Avon, were ranged

ticket for the various entertainments (the masthirty cannon (sixteen of them thirty-two pound-querade only excepted, which was rated sepaers), twelve cohorns, and some mortars, to be

rately at half a guinea) was admitted, upon payfired upon the opening of, and during the

ment of a shilling, and regaled with tea. Jubilee; and an immense quantity of fire-works,

The Steward came to the breakfast room soon and variegated lamps for the illuminations, were

after eight, to see that every thing was properly sent in two waggons from London, for the amuse

disposed for the reception of the company, as ment of the company.

well as to be himself in readiness to receive A beautiful ribbon (afterwards formed into

them. favours) was purposely made at Coventry, and

Previous to the arrival of the company, the called the Jubilee ribbon, which united and Mayor and Corporation waited upon Garrick, Blended all the colours of the rainbow.

at Shakspeare hall; where William Hunt, Esq. A medal, engraved by Mr. Westwood of the Town Clerk, delivered to him the ensigus Birmingham, similar to that worn by Garrick,

of his office, viz, a medal (on which was carved was struck on this occasion, in copper, silver, a bust of the bard, and richly set in gold) and and gold: these, as well as the ribbon, were

wand, both made of the famous mulberry-tree. eagerly bought up. On one side was a good From the Town hall, the company proceeded likeness of Shakspeare, with the following in regular order to the Church; where the words from his own play of Hamlet,—“We shall oratorio of “ Judith,” composed by Dr Arne, not look upon his like again;" on the reverse, was well performed in a large temporary or

- Jubilee at Stratford, in honour and to the chestra, erected under the organ. This piece memory of SAAKSPEARE. Sept. 1769, D. G. Stew- opened at eleven; and, at its close, Garrick, at ard."

the head of the performers, walked in procesThe first opening of the Jubilee was an- sion from the church, attended by a large ca* See the title page of Vol. II.

valcade of the nobility and gentry in their

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