with the point of his sword, drawn slowly backward and forward on the ground, before he retires to his tent, received shouts of applause. He gave to all the busy scenes of the play the greatest animation and effect. He filled every part of the stage. The concluding scene, in which he is killed by Richmond,' was the most brilliant. He fought like one drunk with wounds: and the attitude in which he stands with his hands stretched out, after his sword is taken from him, had a preternatural and terrific grandeur, as if his will could not be disarmed, and the very phantoms of his despair had a withering power. [His fall, however, was too rapid. Nothing but a sword passed through the heart could occasion such a fall. With his innate spirit of Richard he would struggle with his fate to the last moment of ebbing life. But on the whole the performance was the most perfect of any thing that has been witnessed since the days of Garrick. The play was got up with great skill. The scenes were all painted with strict regard to historic truth. There had evidently been research as to identity of place, for the views of the Tower, of Crosby House, etc., were, in the eye of the best judges, considered as faithful representations according to the descriptions handed down to us. The cast of the play was also good. Green-room report says that Miss Smith refused the part of the Queen, as not great enough forsooth for her superior talents, although Mrs. Siddons, Mrs. Pope,2 Mrs. Crawford,3 and others felt it to their honour to display their powers in the character. In the present case the absence of Miss Smith was not a misfortune, for Mrs. Glover gave to the fine scene with her children a force and feeling that 1 Richard III, v, v. 4 2 Alexander Pope's first wife (Elizabeth Younge) played this part in September, 1789. 3 Mrs. Dancer-who made her début at the Haymarket in 1766— became Mrs. Barry in 1768, and Mrs. Crawford in 1778. Richard III, IV, i; Cibber's version. drew from the audience the most sympathetic testimonies of applause. Miss Boyce made a very interesting and elegant representative of Lady Anne. We sincerely congratulate the public on the great accession to the theatrical art which they have obtained in the talents of Mr. Kean. The experience of Saturday night convinces us that he acts from his own mental resources, and that he has organs to give effect to his comprehension of character. We never saw such admirable use made of the eye, of the lip, and generally of the muscles. We could judge of what he would have been if his voice had been clear from hoarseness; and we trust he will not repeat the difficult part till he has overcome his cold. We understand he is shortly to appear in Don John,' in The Chances. We know no character so exactly suited to his powers.] [Drury Lane] February 21. 2 THE house was crowded at an early hour in every part, to witness Mr. Kean's second representation 2 of Richard. His admirable acting received that meed of applause, which it so well deserved. His voice had not entirely recovered its tone and strength; and when (after the curtain had dropped, amidst a tumult of approbation), Mr. Rae came forward to announce the play for Monday, cries of "No, no,” from every part of the house, testified the sense entertained by the audience, of the impropriety of requiring the repetition of this extraordinary effort, till every physical disadvantage had been completely removed. We have little to add to our former remarks, for Mr. Kean went through the part nearly as before, and we saw no reason to alter our opinion. The dying scene was the most varied, and, we think, for the worse. In pronouncing the words in 1 These expectations were disappointed; Kean does not appear to have performed this part. 2 Saturday, February 19. Richard's soliloquy, "I am myself alone,"1 Mr. Kean gave a quick and hurried movement to his voice, as if it was a thought that suddenly struck him, or which he wished to pass over; whereas it is the deep and rooted sentiment of his breast. The reduplication of the words in Shakespeare points out the manner in which the voice should dwell upon, and as it were, brood over the feeling, loth to part with the bitter consolation. Where he says to Buckingham, "I am not i' the vein," the expression should, we imagine, be that of stifled hatred and cold contempt, instead of sarcastic petulance. The scene tells for itself, without being pointed by the manner. In general, perhaps, if Mr. Kean were to give to the character less of the air of an ostentatious hypocrite, of an intelligible villain, it would be more correct, and would accord better with Shakespeare's idea of the part. The description which he has put into the mouth of Hastings, is a perfect study for the actor. "His grace looks cheerfully and smooth to-day : That can less hide his love or hate than he, For by his face straight shall you know his heart." 3 In the scene with Lady Anne, in the sudden alteration of his manner to the messenger who brings him the news of Edward's illness, in the interview with Buckingham, where he desires the death of the children, in his infinitely spirited expostulation with Lord Stanley, in his triumph at the death of Buckingham, in the parting scene with his friends before the battle, in his treatment of the paper sent to Norfolk, and in all the tumult and glowing interest of the last scenes of the play, we had fresh cause for admiration. It were in vain, however, to point out particular beauties; for the research, 1 Richard III, end of Act 1, Cibber's edition, taken from 3 Henry VI, v, vi, 83. 2 Richard III, IV, ii, 122. 3 Ibid., III, iv, 50-5. the ingenuity, and the invention manifested throughout the character are endless. We have said before, and we still think so, that there is even too much effect given, too many significant hints, too much appearance of study. There is a tone in acting, as well as in painting, which is the chief and master excellence. Our highest conception of an actor is, that he shall assume the character once for all, and be it throughout, and trust to this conscious sympathy for the effect produced. Mr. Kean's manner of acting is, on the contrary, rather a perpetual assumption of his part, always brilliant and successful, almost always true and natural, but yet always a distinct effort in every new situation, so that the actor does not seem entirely to forget himself, or to be identified with the character. The extreme elaboration of the parts injures the broad and massy effect; the general impulse of the machine is retarded by the variety and intricacy of the movements. But why do we try this actor by an ideal theory? Who is there that will stand the same test? It is, in fact, the last forlorn hope of criticism, for it shows that we have nothing else to compare him with. "Take him for all in all," it will be long, very long, before we “look upon his like again," if we are to wait as long as we have waited. We wish the introduction of the ghosts through the trapdoors of the stage were altogether omitted. The speeches, which they address to Richard, might be delivered just as well from behind the scenes. These sort of exhibitions are only proper for a superstitious age; and in an age not superstitious, excite ridicule instead of terror. Mr. Wroughton makes a very substantial ghost,' and Miss Boyce retains the same ruddy appearance of flesh and blood, and the same graceful embonpoint, which so well became her in the scene where she was wooed by Richard. Mrs. Glover's Queen was more natural and impressive than on the first night, because 1 Ghost of Henry VI. it was less turbulent; and if she would use still less vociferation, she would produce a still greater effect-"For in the very torrent and whirlwind of the passion, you should acquire a temperance that may give it smoothness. Mr. Kean's acting in Richard, as we before remarked in his Shylock, presents a perpetual succession of striking pictures. He bids fair to supply us with the best Shakespeare Gallery 2 we have had! MR. KEAN'S HAMLET. [Drury Lane] March 14. THAT which distinguishes the dramatic productions of Shakespeare from all others, is the wonderful variety and perfect individuality of his characters. Each of these is as much itself, and as absolutely independent of the rest, as if they were living persons, not fictions of the mind. The poet appears, for the time being, to be identified with the character he wishes to represent, and to pass from one to the other, like the same soul successively animating different bodies. By an art like that of the ventriloquist, he throws his imagination out of himself, and makes every word appear to proceed from the very mouth of the person whose name it bears. His plays alone are properly expressions of the passions, not descriptions of them. His characters are real beings of flesh and blood; they speak like men, not like authors. One might suppose that he had stood by at the time, and had overheard what passed. Each object and circumstance seems to exist in his mind as it existed in nature; each several train of 1 Hamlet, III, ii, 6-9, altered. 2 A series of pictures painted on commission for Alderman John Boydell, and first exhibited in 1790 when he was Lord Mayor. They were engraved, and published by him. |