resolved to try his skill as an actor. A wandering life was suited to his independent turn of mind. He became a strolling player, and suffered all the vicissitudes to which that unsettled condition is necessarily exposed.

After some time, he procured an engagement at one of the provincial theatres, where he was frequently assailed by the animadversions of illnatured critics. Irritated by opposition, and too proud to yield to the bad taste of a provincial audience, he determined to resent the unjust attacks of which he was the object, and one evening, during the performance of Richard III. when he came to the line,

"Unmanner'd dogs, stand ye where I command,"

he addressed himself significantly to the galleries. John Bull is not much inclined to shew respect to kings, whether on the throne or on the stage, and the clamour of disapprobation ceased only in the expectation of an apology from the actor. Kean, however, braved the anger of his auditors, and declared that the only proof of good sense they had evinced, was in applying the offensive line to themselves. This affair, which ended in Kean's dismissal from the theatre, probably contributed to hasten his appearance on the London boards. In the year 1813, the manager of Drury Lane visited the different provincial towns, for the purpose of recruiting a company to retrieve the fallen glory of his establishment. He saw Kean at Dorchester, he immediately engaged him, and this

celebrated actor made his first appearance at Drury Lane, in January 1814, in the character of Shylock. His debut made a great noise in London; but unluckily the manager of one of the minor theatres, who had previously engaged him as a pantomimic performer, now insisted on the fulfilment of his contract. Tragedy and farce mutually asserted their claims on Kean, though in a manner less pleasing than that in which Melpomene and Thalia are represented as contending for Garrick, in Reynolds's allegorical picture. The dispute was, however, speedily arranged, and Kean devoted himself to the service of the tragic muse. The managers of Drury Lane were not conscious of the full value of their acquisition, until the first night of Kean's appearance in the Duke of Gloucester. The admiration he excited procured for him a new engagement at twenty pounds per week, instead of two, a salary which could not be deemed too high for a performer, who, every other night, brought the sum of seven hundred guineas into the treasury. Kean received the most flattering invitations from many of the nobility; but he is said to prefer the company of persons in a more humble rank of life, and to be particularly fond of associating with the votaries of Bacchus. The presents he has received from people of wealth and distinction prove, that he is not supported by the suffrage of the galleries only. A subscription was raised, for the purpose of presenting him with a gold cup, and the name of Lord Byron was on the list of subscribers.

The celebrated Sheridan, being offended with the managers of Drury Lane, vowed never to set foot within the walls of that theatre, of which he himself was at one time manager. The high reputation of Kean excited his curiosity; but not all the praises that were lavished on Richard, Shylock, and Othello, could induce him to depart from his determination, and he contented himself with hearing Kean recite in private. He dined with him at the house of a friend, and so completely was he absorbed in the admiration of his talent, that he repeatedly allowed the wine decanter to pass him. Kean is, perhaps, the only man who can boast of ever having made Sheridan forget his bottle.

At length, when the hour arrived at which the public favourite was obliged to repair to the theatre, Sheridan could no longer resist the temptation he went to Drury Lane that very evening, and bestowed his rapturous tribute of applause on Kean's exquisite performance of Sir Giles Overreach, in Massinger's romantic comedy of A New Way to pay Old Debts.

I have seen Kean in this same character. Sir Giles is a man who, by dint of unremitting avarice, has amassed so much wealth that his love of gold is satiated. Vanity then takes place of covetousness: he admires his own talent, and is a sort of deity in his own conceit. His self-love even finds an indulgence in the affection he cherishes for his daughter, whom he bedecks in jewels and costly apparel, with the view of marrying her

to a lord; for though he despises rank and titles in others, as mere empty absurdities, yet by a contradiction which is often observable in human nature, he flatters himself that in his family they will become substantial marks of honour. Massinger has endowed the selfish and arrogant Sir Giles with extraordinary energy of character, and to attain the new object of his ambition, he evinces the courage and perseverance which are usually the concomitants of greatness of mind.

Kean represents, with admirable originality, the avarice, pride, and ferocious inhumanity of this ably drawn character. Sir Giles Overreach is one of those heroes of common life, with whom Kean seems to identify himself more perfectly than with poetic heroes. He evinces exquisite skill in the manner in which he gradually works up the tragical effect of the last act, when Sir Giles, caught in his own snares and defeated in all his plans, breaks the last bonds which attach him to society, and vents his rage like an infuriated tiger. I never beheld any thing more impressive than Kean's acting in this terrible picture of the delirium of passion, the despair of disappointed vengeance, and furious hatred. Sheridan certainly could have no cause to repent having forgotten, for such a spectacle, his misunderstanding with a theatrical committee.

LETTER XXXIII.

TO M. PROVOST, PROFESSOR OF ORATORY.

THE present Covent Garden Theatre dates its existence only since the year 1809. The building reflects credit on its architect, Mr. Smirke, who seems to have had in view to erect a temple, to be dedicated at once to Melpomene and to the muse of romance. This theatre, which has been so highly praised by some English writers, as a masterpiece of architecture, is evidently only a copy of the Temple of Minerva, the finest model of the doric order, amidst the grand ruins of the Acropolis. The principal front is adorned by an elegant portico, and in each of the lateral walls there is a niche, one containing a statue of tragedy, and the other a statue of comedy, admirably executed by Flaxman. Two bas-reliefs are also introduced, one representing Aristophanes, Menander, Thalia, Polyhymnia, Euterpe, Clio, and Terpsichore, with their classical attributes, followed by the seasons, who are grouped round Pegasus. Eschylus, the father of tragedy, Minerva, Bacchus, and Melpomene, are not forgotten; and Orestes, pursued by two furies, is seen claiming the protection of Apollo, who advances on his car drawn by four coursers. On the other