she was obliged to retire from England. Kean privately circulated a report that she was to appear at his benefit, and thereby gathered a large audience it was a respectable way of doing business. Though it is out of our way to make any political remarks while going over the memoirs of a stroller, yet we cannot refrain from observing on the consistent conduct of the Whigs, and the blackguards with whom they linked themselves, on the Queen's business. Nobody with more brains than a turnip doubts the guilt of the Queen now; and yet if we venture to say a word about it, we are told of our barbarity in attacking a woman, and she, too, in her grave.-God bless the Whigs, they are a darling set of fellows! but we must go back to Kean. He continued to act in the obscurity which he deigns not to enlighten until somebody pointed him out in 1813, while playing at Exeter, to the notice of Mr. Pascoe Grenfell, a wise member of Parliament, and one of that egregious_body, the Managing Committee of Drury Lane. Pascoe sent down Arnold, the stage-manager, to report on Kean's abilities, and the report was favourable. Kean came up, and acted at Drury Lane. There is an attempt to vilify Elliston, for endeavouring to keep Kean to his word, made in this authentic biography; but it only plunges the hero into farther dirt. The speculation was a good one for the house, which was at that time sinking under the mismanagement of Whitbread, Douglas Kinnaird, and other great men, who were equally great in the theatre as in the state. Shylock, he says, he played with an originality of style, and a vigour of genius; but he informs us that it was reserved for the performance of his Richard III. to place him at once on the highest pinnacle of dramatic glory. In Hamlet, he assures us, the force of his genius broke through the disadvantages of his figure, and the brilliant points which illuminated his delineation of the character were so numerous, as entirely to cast his defects into the shade. Othello actually electrified the audience-Luke, in Riches, commanded universal applause; and so on through all his roles. In a word, he was the passion of the day. Novelty will always command notice in London, and Kean's acting, happily, was a novelty on the English stage. His croaking tones-his one-two-three-hop step to the right, and his equally brusque motions to the left his retching at the back of the scene whenever he wanted to express passion his dead stops in the middle of sentences-his burre hurre hurre, hop hop hop! over all passages where sense was to be expressed, took amazingly. His very defects told in his favour. Don't you think, a doubting critic would say, Kean is rather low ?Yes, quoth a critic of the mob, rather low, I confess; but you see how well he acts, in spite of his wretched appear ance -Garrick was low. I am of opinion, said another hesitator, that his voice is bad.—Oh yes, retorted the critic, rather hoarse, I confess; but you see how well he acts, in spite of his wretched voice.-But, persevered the first interlocutor, I do not think he understands his author.-Why, entre nous, was the reply of the critic, I can't exactly say; but you see how well he acts, though he does not understand his author.-What could a man say after that? But the real secret of this ultra-popularity was what Cobbett calls the BASE PRESS. At that time, gentle reader, there flourished a knot of numskulls, absolute over the dramatic world. Flourished, we say, for now it is laid prostrate. There will be a sighing among the Strephons, and a wailing among the Wiolars, when we name— the Cockney School! Dead they are now-down, down, among the dead men do they lie. But away with banter! At that time the most conceited, insolent, filthy, and ignorant dominion was exercised over all dramatic concerns by the Examiner. Its writers are now sunk, and we have no wish to trample on their misfortunes; but it must have cost the principal libellers of that set many and bitter pangs, if they were possessed of any feeling whatever, to be conscious in their own day of suffering, when Z. was gibbetting them as objects for the slow-moving finger of scorn to point at, how many wanton stabs at the reputation and livelihood of poor players had been given by their malignant stilettos; how much acute and poignant misery a remark of theirs, penned in drunkenness, or folly, or spite, must have occasioned to luckless actors, whose very bread depended probably on the way in which a manager might have regarded the lucubrations of the puppy critic. A congeniality of soul drew these fellows to Kean. Their word was potential over the apprenticeboys and young Whigs of the pit-the milliners of the gallery and their beaux -and the ladies of the saloons. Even decent people at that time used to read the play-house critiques of the Examiner: and as impudence frequently passes for talent, and blustering always terrifies those who do not think for themselves, some ten years ago they were looked upon by the theatrical people as models of elegance, deep reading, and acumen. The whole tribe puffed Kean, and silenced the voice of common sense. Creatures whom the most paltry of the two-pennies of London would not now admit as gratis contributors, then directed the taste of the town." They went about crim, crisp, and jaunty, weaving chaplets of laurel, and venting sonnets on one another. You heard a sugh at every corner about fine gusto, and virtu, and keeping, and those down-looking Greeks, of whom, by the way, they could not spell the names, far less read them, if written in their native characters. Poor devils! When we look back at their happy state, our heart is sometimes "wae" within us on reflecting that it was we who marred their Elysium-a feeling which, however, fades in an instant all away when we recollect that they used the power they possessed to insult merit-to outrage decency-to vilify religion—to puff meanness-and to beslaver all that was glorious and venerable in the land. These were Kean's patrons they pronounced him a second Garrick, and the town bent in prostrate reverence before the fetid breath of the oracle. Under the auspices of this gang, Kean went on and prospered. He soon entertains us with an account of a most asinine speech he made, at the most asinine ceremony of presenting him with a gold cup, which was delivered to him by Palmer. And in a page or so afterwards, he gets so delighted with his oratory, that be again favours us with another most brilliant harangue, delivered by him at the opening of the Wolf Club, of which he was the appropriate grand-master. Its design was to howl, as its name implies, everybody who had any chance of rivalling the quack actor, who got them together, though Kean here seems to insinuate that they were merely a drunken set of soakers, who met to make themselves "comfortable," p. 130. He was at last obliged to knock it up. The opening sentence of the speech is too good. Conceive such a man as Kean beginning an oration thus: "GENTLEMEN! (there was not one in the room, except a few gentlemen of the press)-Gentlemen and brothers! "If we look to tradition, our arts and sciences, our laws and govern ments in embryo were uncertain, disputable, and vague." This is a deep discovery. "To accomplish perfection in any degree, (there being of course various degrees of perfection,) has been, and will remain, the work of ages and constant perseverance. "I am THEREFORE aware of the difficulties we have to encounter in bringing our little society," &c. &c. &c. What an Argal! Arts, sciences, laws, governments, ages, and tradition, lugged in by the head and shoulders, to preface the formation of a drunken club! The force of pathos could no farther go. He went in 1818 to France-dined with Talma-and got a snuff-box from some French players-all of which important events are duly dated. It is from circumstances of this kind, that we conclude it must be an auto-biography, for surely no man alive would take the trouble of finding out, that, on the 15th of July, 1818, Kean dined with Talma, or would care a pinch o snuff whether, on the day afore-men contentment. 66 tioned, he had gone supperless to bed. wise. None of your outlandish diaAfter this, we have him acting in How- monds, therefore, which cost siller, ard Payne's most stupid of all stupid when we can get our own cairngorms plays, Brutus, very much to his own for nothing. The inscription on the He tells us, that the sword is worthy of them that gave, leading feature of his acting was dig- and him who received. We copy it nity, dignity approaching to the sub- as it appears in this authentic tome, p. lime, and downright simple energy." 136. 'This is too audacious. Kean act Brutus with dignity! Howard Payne write a play in which anybody could act with dignity! Author and actor were worthy of one another. This sword was presented ΤΟ EDMUND KEAN, WHEN he appears on the stage, The King of Scotland. What it means is beyond our capacity. We next slur over his indefensible conduct to poor Jenny Porter, and her play of Switzerland-as also his behaviour to Bucke's Italians. He owns Next follow his adventures in Amehe had the worse of the latter contro- rica, briefly related for good reasons; versy; but defends his letter in answer and the whole is wound up by a good to Bucke, by saying that it was written deal of puffing, on some of his freaks under angry feelings. He must have of ostentatious generosity. Some inbeen not angry with Bucke only, but solent language of his to a tavernwith the language of the country, for it keeper in Portsmouth, comes in for its was full of words misspelt from be- share of applause, but the story is simginning to end-just such a fine com- ply this: When Kean was a strolling position as he some time after had player, he asked this man for half-athe folly to write to John Bull, and pint of porter; and Boniface would which Bull, with malicious mirth, print- not give it to him until he paid the ed verbatim as it came from the pen of penny beforehand-such was the shabthe writer. by appearance of the poor fellow. We think the man was quite right, as every one ought to take care of his own property. Afterwards, when Mr. Kean was rich, this landlord, as landlords will do, came bowing and scraping to him, and Kean remembering the indignity of having been refused tick for a penny, made a most indignant speech, and left the house. He knit his brow, he says, most awfully, and among much other stuff, he announced himself as "The same Edmund Kean that I was fifteen years ago, when you insulted me. Look at me again, sir. What alteration beyond that of dress Am I a betdo you discover in me? ter man than I was then ?" &c. &c. Good old Sir John Sinclair after this makes his appearance, with the silly epistle which he wrote on the occasion of some foolish people of our modern Athens baving clubbed their shillings to buy Kean a sword. It was an unjustifiable and cruel proceeding, after all; for the sword being unfortunately too large for Kean's body, he appeared, whenever he was tied to it, like a poor cockchaffer transfixed by a huge corking-pin. Sir John favours is correspondent with some remarks on swords, and on the history of Macbeth, very pleasant to read, and quite germane to the purpose. The sword, he tells him, is of the true Highland make, whence we conclude that the Celtic Society was at the bottom of the business, for it is quite fit for them. It is adorned, moreover," with some of the most valuable stones that Scotland produces." We flatter ourselves that that is a touch redolent of the north side of the Tweed. It is good to be merry and 43 ATHENEUM VOL. 2. 2d series. Heaven help us! Here is nonsense in all its altitudes! To be sure, he was not a better man-very possibly he might have been a worse man-but he was decidedly richer-better on 'Change. The landlord, when he saw poor Mr. Kean, was afraid of his money, and refused him credit-when he saw rich Mr. Kean, he looked to a good stiff bill-and that made all the difference. Kean was never so besotted as when he imagined the compliment paid to his purse was paid to his person. "On Kean's acting," continues he, 66 we decline offering any criticism; he is beyond it." Quite beyond it indeed-but there are two kinds of beyonds, above and below. A worse actor never trod the stage-we mean, pretending to enact such characters as he has taken on himself to murder. Here ends the auto-biography. We go no farther, having nothing to do with Kean except to expose quackery, puffing, and humbug. He is going down very fast, and we flatter ourselves that this Life of his, though intended for a different purpose, will freshen his way a trifle down the ladder of popularity. WE BIOGRAPHY OF THE LATE JANE TAYLOR.* E have few readers, old or young, to whom the name of the Author of Display, and, in part, of the Original Poems and Hymns for Infant Minds, can be unknown; and by none who are acquainted with her productions, will the intimation have been received without concern, that their friend and their children's friend rests from her labours. To bestow on works for children the talent and the toil which, otherwise directed, might have commanded the higher honours of literary fame, may seem a self-denying exercise of genius; but there is no species of literary labour that yields so pure a reward, or that ensures for the writer so permanent a remembrance. For who ever ceases to recollect with interest the favourites of his childhood, the books connected with his earliest impressions, and to which, perhaps, he is able distinctly to trace a beneficial influence in the formation of his character? The "Divine Songs" of Dr. Watts, perhaps his happiest production, and one that has survived the more ambitious labours of most of his contemporaries, will always be sufficient to perpetuate and endear his name. And we may safely predict, that our children and our children's children will be the faithful conservators of works which display equal genius and equal piety, in connexion with the peculiar tact and address which qualify woman pre-eminently to be the teacher of the young. We feel by no means sure that the Evenings at Home, and the Parent's Assistant, will not outlive the demand for the works of the Author of Waverley, and that Mrs. Barbauld's exquisite Prose Hymns for children will not survive, as they deserve to do, much of the poetry of the day. We might, perhaps, still more confidently predict, that the name of the Author of Little Henry and his bearer, and that of the venerable writer of the Cheap Repository Tracts, will be had in lasting remembrance. Society certainly could better dispense with one half of the literary world, than with these unpretended benefactors of the infant race. And among them, no inferior rank will be awarded to Jane Taylor. We have not the means of ascertaining all the productions for which the public are indebted to her pen. The Original Poems for Infant Minds was, we believe, the first that brought its anonymous authors into general favour. In this work, the speculation of the publishers, Miss Taylor was associated with her elder sister, Mrs. Gilbert, and another lady. Many of the poems were, we have been given to understand, absolutely juvenile productions, and they are unequal. The success of the publication, however, was unprecedented: a second volume followed, a third for younger children, and a fourth, consisting of hymns, which has the most merit of the series. Of these little volumes, many thou * The Contributions of Q. Q. to a periodical Work: with some Pieces not before published. By thứ late Jane Taylor. 2 vols. 12mo. pp. 596. London 1824. † Miss Taylor's are distinguished by the initials J. and J. T. sands annually have regularly been sold for between fifteen and twenty years; and though they have given rise to many attempts at imitation, they remain, and are likely to remain, unequalled for their originality, exquisite adaptation, and admirable simplicity. The "Original Hymns for Sunday Schools" have had a still more extensive circulation. These, though of course every consideration was sacrificed to the most literal plainness of expression, have nevertheless much beauty: they exhibit religious truth brought down to the very humblest level, yet without being vulgarized. The fourth hymn in particular, beginning, 'Jesus, who lived above the sky,' is one of the happiest attempts to translate the truths of religion into the dialect of infant thought, without compromising the proprieties of language, that we have ever met with. In 1810, Miss Taylor contributed some poems to a little volume, the joint production of a few friends, and now more than ever an interesting memorial, entitled, "The Associate Minstrels." The Remonstrance to Time is a beautiful and touching Poem. The Birthday Retrospect is also but too characteristic of the tendency to melancholy which is observable in some of Miss Taylor's poems. As the volume is out of print, we should have been pleased to see these poems, with any other fugitive pieces of the same Author,* incorporated with the present work. In 1815, appeared "Display, a Tale for young People," the first pub lication to which its author had the courage to affix her name. Our opinion of it has been already given, and the public have sufficiently proved that we did not over estimate it. We have only to regret that the wish we then expressed, was destined never to be satisfied, to receive more of such tales from the same pen. This was followed, in 1816, with "Essays in Rhyme on Morals and Manners," the boldest literary effort on which its Author had yet ventured, and unquestionably displaying, in parts, the most genius and reach of thought. The title was not happily chosen, and the work was less adapted to be popular, than the Tale; its sale, accordingly, though successful, has not kept pace with that of its predecessor.† So rich was the poetry, however, in point and force of expression, in delicacy of sentiment, and occasionally, in both pathos and humour, that it led us to anticipate productions of a still higher cast. But in this expectation we were not to be gratified. Miss Taylor's failing health soon after this publication, rendered the excitement and exhaustion of literary composition too much for a frame of fragile texture. All that she could venture to undertake were short and desultory papers, and the present volumes consist of those interesting remains. Her brother informs us that, with the exception of two or three not before published, they appeared in the Youth's Magazine during the course of the seven years beginning with 1816, and ending with 1822, when Miss Taylor's declining health obliged her to desist entirely from literary occupations. Very soon after the commencement of her regular contributions to the Youth's Magazine, my sister,' says Mr. Taylor, had reason to believe that, through the medium of its pages, she had succeeded in gaining, in a high degree, the attention of a very large number of young persons. An assurance so encouraging inspired her with the earnest desire to improve the favourable impression she had made, for promoting the best interests of her readers; and whether she was grave or gay she never lost sight of this object. Her friends have generally concurred in the opinion that many of these pieces are that a republication of them was due to their among the happiest efforts of her pen, and merit. In compliance with this opinion, she had revised and prepared for the press the greater part of the papers, not long before her last illness; and she left with me instructions for the publication of the whole.' Should the contents be as new to our * We recollect to have seen one or two hymns with Miss Taylor's initial in some popular collections, and at least one poem in an early volume of the Edinburgh Annual Register. The Essays have reached a fourth, Display a tenth edition. |