CHARLES JOHN KEAN.

Hawke's Bay Herald, Volume 12, Issue 934, 14 April 1868, Page 3

CHARLES JOHN KEAN.

The great actor whose mortal remains were yesterday interred in the churchyard of Catherhigton, a secluded hamlet near Keydell, in Hampshire, was born on the 18th January, 1811. In his veins, as in those of many of our most illustrious Britons, English and Irish blood commingled in equal proportions. He first saw the light at Waterford, a city which may lay claim to high dramatic celebrity, having also given to the stage Dorothea Jordan and Tyrone Power. His mother, whose maiden name was Chambers, came of a reputable Irish family long settled in Minister. Unforeseen reverses having compelled her to take to the stage as a means of livelihood, she became acquainted with her destined husband Edmund Kean, while they were both fulfilling a. professional engagement in England-*-he being then under 20, and she some years older. It was at Stroud, in Gloucestershire, in the summer of 1808, that she contracted with him the marriage which made her an illustrious mother but a most unhappy wife. The newly-married couple proceeded shortly afterwards to Ireland, and Barry Cornwall tells us, in his life of Edmund Kean, that a few days before the birth of her eldest son, Howard, who died in infancy, Mrs, Kean played the heroine in a grand romantic melodrama, dazzlingly entitled " The Virgin of the Sun." Lord Macaulay has been at some pains to prove that Charles Kean was entitled, in right of his .father, to such social prestige as may belong to patrician descent. "It is perhaps not generally known," writes the historian, "that some adventurers who, without advantages of fortune or position, made themselves conspicuous by the mere force of ability, inherited the blood of George Savile." Marquis of Halifax. He left a natural son, Henry Carey, whose dramas once drew crowded audiences to the theatres, and some of whose gay and spirited verses still live in the memory of hundreds of thousands. From Henry Carey descended that Edmund Kean who in our own time transformed himself so marvellously into Shylock, lago, and Othello." Henry Carey left a son, George Savile Carey, whose daughter, Ann Carey, was the reputed mother of the great tragedian. The question of his maternal lineage, however, was one which Edmund Kean appears to have regarded as a matter of very trivial consequence. He supported his mother, and allowed her an annuity; but we are assured that he " sometimes doubted and questioned her title to noble extraction. It is a fact, which hardly seems as well known as it deserves to be, that Edmund was not the first Kean who figured upon the stage. His uncle, Moses Kean, was a member of tho Drurylane company, and played Glumdalca in 1776, the same year that Mrs. Siddons made her first appearance in London. The year of Charles Kean's birth was one of some note in English annals, being that in which were won three of the great Peninsular battles— Barossa, Albueva, and Fuentes d'Onore, and that also on which the Prince of Wales became Regent of the United Kingdom. It was a busy, anxious time, full of adventure and excitement ; but they tell us that the drama prospered in those bustling days, and that the theatres were nightly crowded, notwithstanding the heavy taxes and tho continual drain of a war which seemed to resemble an interminable chancery suit or a never-ending game at chess. Each of the six succeeding years was signalised by some event of extraordinary interest in the dramatic world. Mrs. Siddons retired in 1812, followed by Mrs. Jordan in 1814, and by Jack Bannister in 1815. Against these serious Josses were to be set three brilliant gains— Miss O'Nciir made a triumphant debut in 1813 ; Edmund Kean flashed like a meteor upon the town in 1814; and, two years later, William Charles Macready came out with great eclat, at once establishing for himself a position of eminence, Avhich he retained till the close of his professional career. But Edmund Kean outstripped all rivals. Ho was the cynosure of every eye. " the expectancy and rose" of the fair Stato of- the drama. His first appearance, as Shylock, at Dmry-lane, was'as magnificent a success as any recorded in the history of tho British stage. He left his humble lodgings for the theatre with a heavy heart, believing., in himself, yet doubting, whether the.-ipub-lic would partake his faith. But' he hadliterally gono where glory waited him, knd he returned a hero. "Now, Mary," said he to his wife, " you shall ride in ybrir own carriage, and Charles shall go to Eton." Time sped on, aggrandising the fame of. the new tragedian, and bestrewing his path with golden opportunities which, had his prudence been equal to his genius, would infallibly have guided him to fortune. After a sojourn of some years at the preparatory schools of Mr. Styles, at Thames Ditton, and of Eov. E. Polohampton, at Worplesdon, and afterwards at Greenford, near Harrow, Charles entered Eton as an "oppidan" in June, 1824, Dr. Goodall boing then provost, and Dr. Keate high master. His tutor was the Rev. J. Chapman, afterwards Bishop of Colombo. During his residence at Eton, Charles made satisfactory progress in his studies and acquired considerable reputation for his skill in what was then one of the most important of academic exercises— the manufacture of Latin verses. He also excelled in fencing, an accomplishment which he found highly serviceable in after life, when ho was universally admitted to be one of the most finished swordsmen- upon the stage. Cricket, too, was one of his favourite sports, and he was accounted so expert a leader in aquatics that he was chosen second captain of the "Long Boats," an enviable distinction among Etonians. In the list of his contemporaries- and associates at school were the late Duke of Newcastle, the late Marquis of Waterford, Lords Eglington, Sandwich, Selkirk, Boscawen, Canning, Walpole, Adare, and Alford ; Messrs. W. Gladstone, Somerset, Cowpor, Holmes, Savile, Craven, Wentworth, Aliddloton, Watt, Russell, Alexander, Eyre, &c. As the time approached for leaving school the question of what profession he should adopt had of course to be considered. His mother, to whom he was devotedly attached, preferred the Church ; his own inclination was strongly in favour of the army. It was soon discovered that neither project could be realised. Edmund Kean was now, to use a homely phrase, "oiF tho rails." His inveterate habits of dissipation had not only alienated his friends, and exhausted tho patience of the public, but broken down his health and dimmed the lustre of his once matchless genius. His funds were all gone, and ruin was staring him in the face. In this unhappy state of things Charles was obliged to strike out for himself a very different path of life from any that had been hitherlo proposed for him. He determined to go upon the stage.

The circumstances under which this resolution was taken, and tho considerations th. 'it urged him to it, are of peculiar interest, and do great honour to his memory. They may be best described in the language of his biographer : — " Charles, -who had for some time suspected the total derangement of his father's affairs, was startled into conviction by a pressing letter from his mother, received during his last half year at Eton, in the early part of 1827, entreating him to come to her immediately. He obtained permission to absent himself for a few clays, and hastened to London. He found her suffering the most intense anxiety, and she implored him not to leave her. It appeared that Mr. Oalcraft, a member of Par-

liament. and one of the most influential of the Drury-lane committee of that clay, had offered to procure for him a cadetship in the East India Company's service. His father thought the offer too eligible to be declined, and, in giving notice that he intended to accept it, ordered his son to make instant preparations for his departure. Mrs. Kean had been entirely separated from her husband for two or three years : she was reduced to a pitiable state of health, nearly bed-ridden, helpless as an infant, and without a single relative to whom she could look for succour or consolation. Weighing those circumstances well, Charles Kean formed his determination, and sought an interview with his father at the Hummums,' Co vent-garden, where he 'resided at that time, to bring matters to a filial understanding. Edmund Kean was then precariously situated. He had dissipated his realised capital, and was living from day to day on the uncertain earnings which might cease altogether with increasing infirmities. He still commanded a large salary when able to work ; but his power of continuing that supply was little to be depended on. He told his son that there remained no alternative for him but to accept the offer of the cadetship ; that he would provide his Indian outfit, and this being done he must depend thenceforth entirely upon his own exertions, and never apply to him for any future support or assistance. Charles replied that he was perfectly contented, and willing to embrace these conditions, provided something like an adequate allowance was secured to his mother. Finding that his father no longer had it in his power to promise this with any degree of certainty, he respectfully but firmly told him that he • would not leave England while his mother lived, and declined, with thanks, the kind proposal of Mr. Calcraft. This answer excited the anger of the elder Kean to the highest, pitch ; lie gave way to the most intemperate passion, and a painful scene ensued. < What will you do/ said he, ' when I discard you, and you are thrown entirely on your own resources?' 'In that case,' replied the son, ' I shall be compelled to seek my fortune on the stage • (the father smiled in derision.) and though I may never rise to eminence, or be a great actor, I shall at least obtain a livelihood for my mother and myself, and bo obliged to no one.' The father stormed, repeating with almost inarticulate fury what he had often said before, that he was resolved to be the first and last tragedian of tho name of Kean. The son endured a torrent of vituperation without losing his temper or forgetting the respect which, under any circumstances, he felt to be still due to a parent. They parted, and from that hour all intercourse between them was suspended." This happened in the spring of 182 P. In the following July Charles left Eton " for good," and, coming up to London, found his mother still in poverty and affliction. His father had fallen out with the authorities at Dmry-lane, and seceded to Coventgarden, then under the management of Charles Kemble, but, though now again in receipt, of a good income, he no longer contributed to the support of his wife. At this juncture Charles had the good fortune to be befriended by Mr. Stephen Price, the wellknown American manager, who, believing that there was a magic still lurking in the name of Kean, offered him a salary of £10 a week, to be increased to £11 and £12 during the second and third years in case of success. The future course of the young adventurer being now marked out, his first appearanco upon any stage took place upon the boards of " Old Drury" on the opening night of the season, Monday, Oct. 1, 1827. Young ISTorval, in Homo's tragedy of "Douglas," was the character selected for the occasion. The play was cast as follows : —

Younjr Norval Mr. Charles Kean (His first appearance on any stage.) Lord Randolph Mr. Mndo. Gleunlvon Mr. Wallack. Old Norvnl Mr. Cooper. Lady Randolph Mrs. West. Anna Mrs. Knight.

,The result of this experiment was not encouraging ; it was very much the reverse. Charles was well received when first he came out upon the stage, but his performance failed to awaken the slightest enthusiasm in the audience. They barely tolerated him. Some of the best theatrical ferities of the day— Mr. Talfourd in the number — did not consider him deserving of meniatm, and those who deigned to notice liiin.did so with all but unanimous disfavour. '. This journal was one of the few which discerned in him the germ of future eminence and deemed him worthy of encouragement. One of his father's most enthusiastic admirers described the young actor's performance as "just such a one as would have been highly creditable to a school-boy acting in conjunction with his companions for the amusement of their parents on a breaking-up day," adding that in a few days he would probably " sink into nothingness." Instead of taking the town by storm, as his father had done, Charles found that he was powerless to awaken even a transient emotion of interest. He left the theatre a sadder, if not a wiser man than he had entered it, and returned to his mother in deep dejection.

Much has been said about tho benefit Charles Kean derived from the heritage of an illustrious name. It may well bn doubted whether the inheritance did not operate rather to his injury than his advancement. The sons of great men have so often shamed their sires that their failure has in all nations passed into a proverb. The Virgilian maxim, " Sequiturquo patrem nonpassibus jiequis,'' may serve as an illustration. There is a French couplet which gives more pungent expression to the same thought —

Messieurs les grands hommos tl'aillcurs si esliniablys Out fort pen do siicuds a fairo leur semblablcs.

This is felt to. be true as a general rule, deppite the occurrence of occasional exceptions. So strong is the temptation to institute between a father and a son a comparison injurious to the latter, and so often does experience justify the adverse judgment, that there is good reason to conclude that Charles Kean's parentage, like that of other men similarly situated, did him more harm than good at the commencement of his career. The shadow of a great name made it all the more difficult for him to emerge from obscurity.

The young aspirant for fame lingered at Drury-lane through the season of 1827-28, occasionally appearing as Norval in " Douglas," Selim in "Barbarossa," Frederick in "Lovers' Vows," and Lothario in Monk Lewis's tragedy of " Adelgitha/' but drawing only thin houses, and making no more impression upon the public than Macduffs sword upon the intrenchant air. But ho knew better than to despair. Ho took heart and resolved to seek change of scene. In the spring of the following year he went to Dublin, where he experienced an enthusiastic reception in his old character of Norval, a part to which he still clung with fond fidelity, though as yet it had brought him but little hick. Summoned before the curtain at the close of the play, he was not only vociferously cheered, but called upon for a speech ! The effect of his oration may be inferred from the exclamation it evoked from a critic in the gallery — "That will do, Charley! Go home to your mother !" The rollicking good nature that mingled with this sally of sarcasm was in keeping with the friendly feeling invariably evinced at Dublin towards the Kean family. Edmund Kean was from the first a great favourite in the Irish capital. The passionate fervour of his acting and its glow of romantic sentiment contrasting so strikingly with the classic

dignity and stately grandeur of the Kembles, had an' irresistible charm for the Irish. A Dublin playgoer epitomised the qualities of the rival tragedians in a pithy epigram--

Kembje's an actor on a studied plan, Keau is no netor; he's the very man. Instead of going home to his mother, Charles bent his steps in the direction of Glasgow, where he found himself, much to his surprise, in proximity to his father, who had come to re/jide for a few weeks at a cottage he had built in the Isle of Bute. Through the good offices of a friend a reconciliation was happily effected between the father and the son, and on the -Ist October, 1828, they appeared together at the Glasgow Theatre as Brutus and Titus in Howard Payne's tragedy of " Brutus." One passage in the play workod powerfully upon the feelings of the audience. It was that in which Brutus, overpowered with emotion, falls upon the neck of Titus, exclaiming, in broken accents, ''Embrace thy wretched father!" The tragic appositoness of the phrase, and the poignancy of tone and look with which it was uttered, touched the spectators to the heart, prompting them to an outburst of passionate sympathy. A t Christmas Charles returned to his old quarters in Drury-lane, but though he had acquired confidence, and was in all respects much improved by his provincial practice, the day had not yet come when either the press or the public were prepared to receive him with cordial favour. But though of little service to his professional prospects, this visit to London was important in his personal history. It was on Boxing Night, 1828, that he met for the first time upon the stage his wife that was to be, then Miss Ellen Tree, with whom he acted in the play called "Lovers' Vows."

After a summer visit to Dublin, in company with his father, we find Charles in the following autumn fulfilling a brief ougagemcnt at the Hay market, where he made his first "hit" as Sir Edward Mortimer, in the drama of " The Iron Chest." For the first time he felt that he had succeeded. "The papers afforded him positive praise ; but he could scarcely believe it real."

In the spring of 1830 he made a flyingvisit to Amsterdam and the Hague, only to be fleeced by an adventurer named Aubrey, who promised him £20 a week, but suddenly decamped without giving'any of the actors he had hired from England a shilling of their salaries.

Charles had by this time acquired that ease and self-reliance which varied practice and an intimate familiarity with what is known as "stage business" are calculated to inspire. Ho therefore determined to seek his fortune in America. He appeared at the Park Theatre, New York, as Richard 111, m the beginning of September, 1830. His reception was friendly in the extreme. He played Hamlet, Romeo, Sir Edward Mortimer, and Sir Giles Overreach before crowded audiences. His success, gratifying as it was to himself, was hardly less so to his transatlantic critics, whom" it furnished with an additional opportunity for renewing their old boast that New York is the assayeoffice for testing the intellectual ore of the Britishers.

Charles spent two years and a half in a tour through the United States. In addressing a "Waterford audience, at a much later period of his career, when lie had acquired a great position, he alluded to himself and his American friends in the following- terms:— -Thrown before the public, by untoward circumstances, at the early age of sixteen and a half, encompassed by many difficulties, friendless and untutored, the efforts of my boyhood were criticised in so severe and spii it-crushing a strain as almost to unnerve my energies and drive me despairingly from the stage. The indulgence usually extended to novices was denied to me. 1 was not permitted to cherish the hope that time and study could ever enable me to correct the faults of youthful inexperience. The very resemblance I bore to my late father was urged against me as an offence, and condemned as being ''strange and unnatural.' Sick at hoc.rt, I left my home and sought the shores of America*. To the generous inhabitants of that far land I am indebted for the first ray of success that illuminated my clouded career."

Returning to England in 1833, he was engaged by M. Laporte for Covent-garden Theatre, at a salary of £30. On the 25th March in that year his father and he acted together for the first, and, as it was fated to prove, the last time in London. The play was "Othello" — the Moor, as usual, by Edmund Kean, lago by Charles Kean, and Desdemona by Miss Ellen Tree. Barry Cornwall gives a pathetic account of the scene that ensued — as sad a one as was ever witnessed upon the stage. Edmund Kean, now irretrievably bankrupt in health and spirits, broke down in the middle of the play. "On concluding the celebrated 'Farewell' — which he littered with all his former tenderness — his head sank upon his son's shoulder, and the tragedian's acting was at an end." Charles, assisted by the other actors, carried him off the stage into the dressing-room. He rallied, and was removed to his house at Richmond, in Surrey, where, having been previously reconciled to his wife, he died on the 15th May, 1833. Some controversy has oddly enough arisen, since the death of Charles Kean, as to the particular theatre which was the scene of his father's last appearance upon the stage, some -affirming that it was Drury-lane, others Richmond, and others Covent-garden. Mr. Cole, and several witnesses who slate that they wore present on the occasion, concur in naming Convent-

garden

Sheriden Knowles's play of "The Wife was brought out about this time at Coventgarden. and Charles Kean's performance of Leonardo, of which part ho was the original representative, prod need so favourable an impression that Mr. Bunn, the manager of Drury-lane, sounded him upon the subject of fin engagement, hinting that in all probability he would be able to procure for him £15 a week. "No," replied the young actor, "I will never again set my foot on a London stage' until I can command my own terms of £50 a night.'"' "Then, Charles Koan," rejoined Mr. Bunn, with a smile, "I fear you may bid a long farewell to London, for the days of such salaries are gone for ever." "Time rolled on," writes his biographer, "and at the expiration of five years only, during which ho had received £20,000 by acting in the country, lie, drove to the stage-door of Drury-lane Theatre in his own carriage, with a signed engagement at £50 a night in his pocket, and which engagement for upwards of 40 nights was paid to him by the Aery man who had predicted its impossibility."

A visit to Dublin, where he was welcomed with the utmost cordiality, and a brief excursion to Hamburg with a well-selected English company, under the direction of Mr. Barham Livius, Miss Ellen Tree being the heroine of the dramatic corps, were the chief events in the autum of 1833.

The time was now rapidly approaching when, despite the obstacles which had beset tho earlier stages of his career, Charles Kean was to occupy that exalted rank in his profession to which his ambition had from tho first aspired, and for which his great abilities fully qualified him. A long tour through all tho most important theatrical circuits of the United Kingdom increased hi',! income and did immense service to his reputation. An offer of an engagement at Covent-garden reached him while he was acting with great success at Cork. It was a tempting offer, and all the more so for the courteous language in which it was couched by Mr. Macready, But

Kean, as he may now be called (his [ father's death having- left' him sole owner of the name) was tinder terms to Mr. Bunn,' and was therefore compelled to decline the invitation. After an absence of nearly ftve years he came back to London at the closa,_ of 1837, and on the Bth of January in the " following year appeared at Drury-lane' in the character of Hamlet. The fame of his ' provincial successes had gone before him, and the anxiety of the London 1 playgoers ' was intense and universal. Study had ; brought out his histrionic talents in all' ' their richness and variety of power, and practice had given polish and brilliancy to his style. -His triumph was complete. The audience, so numerous as to cram the--■house from the floor to- the roof, were enthusiastic beyond all precedent in the ex- • pression of their applause, and their favourable opinion was corroborated by all the • most influential journals of the day. He • found himself famous. His success in Hamlet, a part which has always been "regarded as the crucial test of a Shaksperian actor, was the turning-point in his career. Now at last the tide had set in his favour, and he was fairly before the wind. A few critics, indeed, dissented from the common verdict of approval, and continued to do so for many years after ;. but. the general judgment both of the press and of the public was rapturously in his favour. Offers of engagements showered in upon him from all quarters, and the greatest' literary celebrities of tho ago vied in offering him their congratulations. He continued to play at > Drury-lane for 43 successive nights, appearing, however, in' only three different • characters—the same characters in which John Philip Kemble made his first appearances at Covent-garden, acting them in the same order. From a statement published by Mr. Bunn, in his book entitled " The Stage Before and Behind the Curtain,"' it, appears that the receipts during Charles Kean's engagement fell little, if at all, short of those realised during a corresponding period by his father. " There was, in fact,"' says Mr. Bunn, " but slight difference in the attraction of either — a coincidence without a parallel in the history of the stage."

The hostility evinced in a few quarters only served to evoke the devotion of Kean's friends and admirers, who, under the presidency of the Marquis of Clanricarde, gave him a public dinner in the saloon of the theatre on the 30th of March, 1838, and presented him with a silver vase of great worth and elaborate beauty. This was the second gift of the kind he- had received, his fellow-townsmen in Waterford having sent adeputation to London in 1836 to request his acceptance of a piece of plate of considerable value.

From this period forward the story of Charles Kean's professional career was one unbroken series of successes. There was, to be sure, as already noted, a band of critics of the Fadladeen school who still held aloof, and would not discern his merit, but the people were with him heart and soul, and the most distinguished critics had no difficulty in endorsing the popular judgment. After a brief visit to Edinburgh, where he was received with enthusiasm and cleared £1,000 by a single engagement, he returned to Drurylane, and appeared with success in " Othello. '' He then set out upon another tour through the United Kingdom, in which "praise and profit accompanied him as his inseparable travelling companions." His next appearance in London was in the summer of 1539, when he played at the Haymarket under Mr. Webster's regime, his remuneration being £50 a night and a benefit. This was a farewell visit preparatory to his departure for America. From New York,, where he performed at the National Theatre, then under the management of Mr. James Wallack, he proceeded to Boston, and thence to the Havana, the state of his health requiring a mild climate.

In midsummer of 1840 we find him again in London fulfilling another engagement at the Haymarket. at which house he also appeared in the- "season" of the two following years, his fame and fortune steadily advancing together. His repertory of characters had of late years greatly extended, but Hamlet, Richard ILL, Shylock, Romeo, Macbeth, and Claude Melnotte were the parts in which he most frequently sought the suffrages of London playgoers. During his third engagement at the Haymarket he performed the "Stranger" for the first time in London. The simultaneous appearance at another house of Mr. Macready in the same character suggested the following epigram : — • On those cocks of the scene. Maweady mid Kean, . We tliiis nwy decide, without danger — Througliout all its range, Though Macready is strange, Yet Kcau of tlie tvvois the "Stranger." The happiest event in the life of Charles Kean was his marriage on the 29th of Jan., 1842, with Miss Ellen Tree, one of the most accomplished actresses on the British stage. They were married at St. Thomas's Church, Dublin, and on the evening of the same day they appeared together at the Theatre Royal in Tobin's comedy of "The Honeymoon," a happy but purely accidental coincidence. Thenceforward the professional as well as domestic careers of these eminent artists ran in the same current. They spent two years in England, appearing in 1843 at the Haymarket, and in 1844 at Drury-lane, where "Richard III." was produced under Kean's direction in a style of unprecedented splendour. In the following year they embarked together for the United States, where they remained for a couple of years. During this tour, which was highly beneficial to their lame, they produced "King John" and "Richard lll." with a beauty of scenery and a richness and accuracy of decoration previously unknown upon the American stage. They also brought out Mr. Lovell's drama of* "The Wife's Secret," a charming play, which, on their return to London, was performed with great eclai at the Haymarket, where it had a run of 36 nights. Towards the close of 1848 Kean was selected, "without any solicitation on his part," to conduct the royal theatricals at Windsor Castle* — an arduous and delicate task, which he performed, then and for some years afterwards, with such skill and good taste as to give complete satisfaction to her Majesty, who honoured him with a private audience, and presented him with a diamond ring. On ■ the 30th of March, in the same year, he lost his mother, to whom he had always been fondly attached. She died at Keydoll, near Horndean, in Hampshire, the country residence of her son, on a small estate he had purchased in 1844, and where she found a happy retreat during the closing years of her chequered and eventful existence.

In August, ISSO, Mr. Kean, in partnership with Mr. Keeley, entered on a lease for two years of the Princess's Theatre. Tho lirst season commenced on the 28th Sept., 1850, and an uninterrupted campaign of 13 months terminated on tho 17th of October, ISSL with the opening play of "Twelfth Night." The partnership then ended.

The nine following years, during which „ the Keans held managerial sway at ■ the Princess's, deserves notice, not only as being : the most important era in tlio professional, careers of both artists, but as marking a most memorable epoch in the history of the British stage. Kean never lost sight of thedidactic purpose . of the drama, which he regarded as an educational .and not simply an emotional institution. •Ho considered, the people seated in a theatre not ' only as auditors, but also, as spectators, and saw uo !

: &&' : ?&.yk~' : ~-:: :- : "--'-i - • " s^vVy.:."' *•--•■? X"'' '•'."■.'■-:-",' ■'---• ?;t s ;ir6asphj why. they should not be educated v^ through the eye as well as the ear. The ;|;j principles of management which he laid ,V dbVn for his guidance were foimded upon |-^he\, conviction he had invariably enter'i>% tamed,{that, in illustrating the best works pi- owj^B&test dramatists, historical accu:?p n&yjmigftt- be. so. blended with pictorial ef- ;;. * '; feet that instruction and amusement might : Vf ; go hand in hand. It is not a little sui-pri- .; sing ''that a theory so sound and rational have evoked such opposition as it ; -. f elicited in certain quarters. If, neglecting '■-■; portraiture, the Keans had sought >'; -to- degrade the stage into a place of gorge.ous,and unmeaning spectacle, the case r would have been different. Then, indeed, ■ there would have been some ground for the .indignant outcry about "upholstery" and ". . ': f flaunting exhibitions of gaud, tinsel, and 1/ red cloth." But there was no shadow of pretence for any such complaint. The /pains which both artists bestowed upon the '■• elaboration of their dramatic portraits — the -'finish of detail,, and the absolute truth of i local as well as general colour which they sought to impart to them, proved that they regarded the truthful expression of passion and the. life-like impersonation of human character as' the primary objects of all drarepresentation. . Good acting was with .them the first consideration, but, that being gained, they wisely concluded that the surroundings of a play should be as correct as the acting. Shakespeare himself declares " that the purpose of playing" is "to give the very age and body of the time its form and pressure." Cicero insists that the stage should be not only the imatatio - vitce, but the speculum comuetwdinis. Assuming these theories to be true, it surely can be no offence against the dignity of the drama, but, on the contrary, a faithful observance of its true purpose, that the scenery, decorations, costumes, architecture, and all the pictorial accessories of a play should be accurately interpretative of the text. .Kean put the question fairly as forcibly in the farewell speech delivered at the close of his managerial career : — . '*.' I remember that when I produced the * Winter's Tale ' as a Greek play — that is, with Greek dresses, Greek customs, and Greek architecture —an objection was raised by some that, although the scene was situated at Syracuse, then a Greek colony, whose, King consults the celebrated oracle of Delphi, yet the play was said to be ■* ■ " essentially English, and ought to be sopreJr : sented, because allusions in various parts t'* -bore reference to this country and to the r period when the author wrote . You would, perhaps, ladies and gentlemen, have been ' somewhat astonished and perplexed to have seen the chest containing the answer of the Greek oracle to the Greek King — supposed . to have been delivered above 2,000 years ago— borne upon the stage by the beef- . eaters of .Queen Eli£#beth . . You would perhaps have been equally surprised to have witnessed at this theatre Leontes, as a Greek . King, in the last act, attired as Hamlet, -Prince" of Denmark, and yet such an incongruity was accepted within the last 20 years." In every drama produced at the Princess's during the Kean regime, the scenery, the banners, armorial bearings, heraldic blazonry, groupings, weapons of war, costumes, architecture, furniture, and all the minor details were given with such critical accuracy that, apart from its histrionic interest, the play might be regarded as a perfect archgeological picture of men and manners as they existed in the age when the characters were presumed to have flourished, and in the place where the incidents were" supposed to have occurred. Thus the - drama was made to serve an historical as well as a psychological purpose, and the audience, while they watched the development of character and the curious complications of dramatic adventure, were instructed in the habits, manners, and general mode of life prevalent, whether among foreigners or then- own forefathers, in remote ages. It is satisfactory to record that, despite the opposition of cavillers, this system of theatrical representation gave complete satisfaction to the public. "King John," the first of the great Shakesperian revivals, was the most 'striking picture of feudal royalty and baronial pomp, ever exhibited upon the London stage. It attracted multitudes of visitors, and, after a run of 60 nights, was succeeded by "Macbeth," presented in such a guise as to furnish a perfect representation of life and character in the Scottish Highlands during the eleventh century. This, play was performed with great applause . for 88 nights. Next came Lord Byron's tragedy of " Sardanapalus," produced with a splendour eclipsing even Mr. Macready's sumptuous version of the same piece. In the illustration of this romantic drama Kean availed himself with such effect of the then recent discoveries by Mr., Layard, that Nineveh as it was in the days of the voluptuous Assyrian would seem to have been disinterred from the grave of bygone ages and called into new existence for the amazement of the 19th century-^ Mr. Douglas Jen-old, speaking of -Sean's skill and enterprise as shown in the rivival of this play (it was before thenunhappy quarrel), observed— " That one performance gave us a better insight into the manners and habits of the Assyrians than a whole life-time has enabled us to acquire of the French. It was a grand lesson^ of animated geography, and the more curious as being the animated geography of . a nation that is dead. Mr. Charles Kean has been the noble teacher on this occasion, and he cannot be praised too highly for the ,:--' i generous spirit in which he has carried out and illustrated his pleasant teaching. He has done his work like a magician." Then followed, in order of enumeration, "Richard III." (19 nights), "Louis XI." (76), "Henry VIII." (150), "The Winter's Tale" (102), "Pizarro" (68), "Midsummer Night's Dream" (162), "Richard II." ffi)' "The Tempest" (87), "King Lear" 032), and "The Merchant of Venice" (92). The last and most magnificent of all the revivals was "Henry V.," which was re- * ceived with great enthusiasm and ran through the whole season. These superb plays ; drew great houses, but no receipts at J so small a theatre could compensate the manager, who expended upon their production the almost incredible sum of £400,000. Though the plays we have mentioned were the most important of those represented at the Princess's under the Kean regime, . jnany.others were produced in a style that proved .highly attractive. Such, for example, were "Much Ado About Nothing," t? ."The Merry Wives of Windsor," "The ; of Love," "Anne Blake," "The ; . Rivals," "Faust and Marguerite," "The ;.;: Jealous Wife," "The Gamester," "The ■: ,tc Coraican Brothers," and others too nume-:-j-v rous.to particularise. '.%?. YX The career of the Keans at the Princess's, ■ : : -while ! it proved their admirable skill in ;>-.--:-'-. r ma.pagemeht/ also afforded abundant opi ;;:>^rt*mity for the display of then- great : .V|"i>ow&; in acting. The brilliancy and >.p?; Versatility of their talents were attested ?^ >L by tlien; successes in a range of characters vh-^Fas varied and "arduous as has ever been ;^f^attempted by the great masters of histrionic -g&'isa&Ht Charle? i;Kean's Hamlet retained to >|}:ytiiej:la^t its pre-eminent popularity; and his '■^if^fti^Xiiv''was universally regarded as a ' , '.■. ; ■..-.."■ : b\Qße of 'their managerial career, August, 1859, "Henry f^erfo^ed;in"-^^presence of a :'|l£§® Jji^nt-;attd(enthusiastic audience, Charles ||^^gg|^4an^Mrs.; : Kean -Queen '^.M^W9^^ipbt^;^!§.n " thia;jeourse of/the address, |^||^p.^He|^|i|er|4:hi,frorit pf. the curtain tj^sl 'ss -pW> ; s&ean passed

events of his management, defending with great spirit the course he had taken in the Shakesperian revivals. To the partner of his toils and triumphs he alluded thus : — "Mind and body require rest after such active exercise for nine years, during the best period of my life, and it could not be a matter of surprise if I sunk under a continuance of the combined duties of actor and manager of a theatre where everything has grown into gigantic proportions ; indeed, I should long since have succumbed had I not been sustained and seconded by the indomitable energy and the devoted affection of my wife."

Their retirement from the scene of their riiany triumphs was attended by an interesting event. A number of noblemen and gentlemen, educated at Eton, nearly all of them contemporary with Kean, formed themselves into a committee for the purpose of inviting their old school-fellow to a public dinner. The banquet, at which the Duke of Newcastle presided, and at which Mr. Gladstone (then Chancellor of the Exchequer) was also present, was attended by no fewer than 550 guests, and passed off with great eclat. A testimonial, projected on this occasion, was presented some time afterwards in the same hall. It was presented to Mr. Kean by Mr. Gladstone in the names of the subscribers, and consisted of a service of plate, valued at 2000 guineas.

Released from the cares of management, Mr. and Mrs. Kean left London in the autumn of 1859 to fulfil a long round of provincial engagements. After an absence of 18 months they returned to the metropolis in January, 1861, and shortly afterwards appeared at Drury-lane. Their engagement was so successful that it was renewed in the spring of the following year, when they performed in some of their most celebrated characters. Their last appearance upon the boards of the national theatre was on the 22nd March, 1862, when they played Don Felix and Violante in the comedy of "The Wonder," for the benefit of Mr. E. T. Smith. In July, 1863, they left the shores of England for Australia, where they were welcomed with great cordiality. They performed 77 nights at Melbourne, playing there for the last time on the 30th April, 1864. The performances consisted of the tragedy of "Richard 11.,'' and for the afterpiece the comedy of " The Jealous Wife." In the course of the evening Mr. Kean bade farewell to. 'his friends in a speech which,, read by the light of subsequent events, sounds sad and ominous: — "Ladies and Gentlemen,— Painful as it is at all times to bid farewell to friends, how much more painful must it be to Mrs. Kean and myself on the present occasion, when, in all human probability, we shall never again visit this portion of the globe. In a few days we shall leave the shores of "Victoria, never to return ; but we shall have the satisfaction of carrying away with us not only the more substantial proofs of your favour, but also the grateful remembrance of the kindness and hospitality we have received during our sojourn amongst you. In years to come, when far away, should our lives be spared, my wife and I will find true enjoyment in the contemplation of the wonders which we have witnessed in this new world, and shall anxiously watch the progress and increasing prosperity of this extraordinary country, wherein we have seen so much to instruct, surprise, and interest us. We shall recall to mind with peculiar gratification the fact of having given utterance to the language of Shakespeare 16,000 miles from home, in a populous city, built iipon a spot which 30 years ago was a lonely wilderness. Ladies and gentlemen, I may say, in the words of our great national poet —

Whether we shall meet again, I know not, Therefore, our everlasting farewell take."

After visiting California, the United States, Canada, and many remote places, Mr. and Mrs. Kean came back to London in May, 1866, and performed at the Princess's Theatre, then, as now, under the management of Mr. Vining.

Charles Kean's last appearance upon any stage was on the evening of the 28th May last, at the Prince of Wales Theatre, Liverpool, in his celebrated character of Louis XI. The following day he was seized with a lingering illness, which unhappily terminated in his death.

To professional eminence Charles Kean added private worth, which alone can entitle a man to love and respect. In him a wife has lost a devoted husband ; an only daughter a fond father. How good a son he was the story of his life proclaims ; how loyal and stedfast he was in friendship, they who knew him best will most willingly declare. He has passed to his rest. "Sitilli terra levis I"

The body of Mr. Kean was taken yesterday morning from his residence in Queens-borough-ten-ace, Bayswater, to the principal terminus of the South-Western Eailway, in order to be conveyed to Hampshire. In the first mourning coach were Mrs. Charles Kean and daughter, Miss Chapman (niece), and Mr. Platt. The Eev. Mr. Gatty, Sir William Fergusson, Mr. Fergusson, Mr. Young, Capt. Barrow, Dr. Joy, and Mr. Everett occupied two other coaches. The mournful procession was followed by several private carriages. The hearse was taken by the special train which conveyed the mourners and friends to Horndean, a station about five miles north of Havant. There a procession was formed to the place of burial, Catherington Church. The coffin was covered with black cloth, and ornamented with black mountings. A brass plate on the lid bore the following inscription :— " Charles John Kean, Esq. Bom 18th January, 1811. Died 22nd January, 1868." The small church was nearly filled by some friends who came from London, but principally by the neighbouring villagers. Amidst the tears of his son-owing family and faithful friends the body of the eminent tragedian was deposited in the vault which is the last resting-place of his mother. The funeral, which was of the simplest character, was conducted by Mr. D. Butler, of Farringdon-street.