CHAPTER III.

1811-1812.-First appearance in Hamlet'-Criticism on the part of Hamlet -Visit to London-A dangerous acquaintance-Performing at Leicester and Newcastle-Mrs. Whitlock-New parts-Acting with Mrs. Siddons at Newcastle in The Gamester' and 'Douglas -Her instructions to a young actor-Criticism on her acting-Birmingham-Holman-W. H. West Betty, the ci-devant young Roscius-Miss Smith-A lesson in judgment on acting-Acting with Mrs. Jordan at Leicester-Her acting-Revival of 'Richard II.' at Newcastle-Anecdotes of G. F. Cooke.

In the season which opened at Newcastle immediately after Christmas, the principal attraction was the play of 'Riches,' in which I very much improved my performance of Luke. The public favour attended me in the fresh attempts I made, and the Earl of Essex, Roderick Dhu, in a drama called the Knight of Snowdon,' founded on Walter Scott's Lady of the Lake,' John of Lorne, in Miss Baillie's play of the 'Family Legend,' and Julian, in a piece called the 'Peasant Boy,' which was exactly suited to my years, and which, from my earnestness and reality, affected the audiences very deeply, all strengthened the partiality of my early patrons. But the task of the season to me was my first appearance in 'Hamlet' for my benefit. As I look back on this venture, which shook my nerves as much as my first passing into the sight of box, pit, and gallery, it appears like presumption in a youth of eighteen to hazard the good opinions already won in such an arduous attempt. The critic who had made a study of this masterpiece of Shakespeare would predict with confidence a failure in such an experiment, but he would not have taken into account the support to the young aspirant supplied by the genius of the poet. There is an interest so deep and thrilling in the

1811-12. CRITICISM ON THE PART OF HAMLET.

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story, such power in the situations, and such a charm in the language, that with an actor possessed of energy, a tolerable elocution, and some grace of deportment, the character will sufficiently interpret itself to the majority of an audience to win for its representative, from their delight, the reward of applause really due to the poet's excellence. A total failure in Hamlet is of rare occurrence. Every theatrical hero takes it up, and yet how many have there been, appearing and carrying off applauses in the part, who have been utterly incompetent to investigate the springs of emotion which agitate and perplex this amiable, reflective, and sensitive being? "There be players, that I have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly," in the character, who could as soon explain and reconcile its seeming inconsistencies, as translate a page of Sanscrit. Dr. Johnson, who so lucidly describes the mind of Polonius, has left us in his observations clear proof that he did not understand that of Hamlet; and audiences have been known to cheer innovations and traps for applause, which the following words of the text have shown to be at utter variance with the author's intention! My crude essay, like those of many others, was pronounced a success; but the probing inquiry and laborious study of my after-life have manifested to me how little was due to my own skill in that early personation. The thought and practice I have through my professional career devoted to it, made it in my own judgment, and in those of critics whom I had most reason to fear and respect, one of my most finished, though not the most popular, in my répertoire.

The Duke Aranza, in Tobin's charming play of' The Honeymoon,' was my introduction to comedy; and, with Posthumus Leonatus in Cymbeline,' and the part of Orestes in Ambrose Philip's translation of Racine's 'Andromache,' confirmed me as the established favourite of the Newcastle audience. The season at Birmingham, beginning in May 1811, added to my list the parts of Frederick in Mrs. Inchbald's translation of Kotzebue's Natural Son,' Phocyas in Hughes' 'Siege of Damascus,' and Charles II. in Dimond's play of 'The Royal Oak.' An engagement was made with Pope, who had in former days shared the leading tragic characters at Covent Garden. He was said to have been an imitator of Clinch, known

VOL. I.

E

in his day by the familiar name of Larry Clinch, who was reputed to have been a very close copyist of Barry, in voice and manner. An incident is related of Clinch, who was extremely popular with the Dublin audience, that acting one of his favourite tragic parts by command of the Lord Lieutenant, of course to a very fashionable assemblage, he had not noticed a slight derangement of his dress, which one of his admirers in the gallery perceiving, in extreme anxiety, leaned over the rail, and with his hand hollowed to his mouth, as if to carry his information to the ear of Clinch alone, in a subdued vociferation, intended for a whisper, called out, "Larry, honey, there's the smallest taste in life of your shirt got out behind you!" My father regarded Pope as a remnant of an old school, which I certainly thought, in these my "salad days," was one better worn out and incapable of resuscitation. The equestrian troop from Astley's circus had been introduced by Harris at Covent Garden, and were, as a matter of course, at the close of the London season, engaged by my father, and in the melodramatic pieces of Blue Beard' and 'Timour the Tartar,' written by Monk Lewis, attracted crowds to the theatre. This gave me a holiday, which I was sent to spend with my brother at Parkgate. I used this time to refresh my memory with the classics, which I had laid aside so long.

On my return to Birmingham, the Knight of Snowdon' was produced at considerable expense, but the equestrian mania left the remainder of the summer very dull. Catalani sang one night in compensation for the disappointment her illness had caused, and it was on this occasion that the audience would not be satisfied with even her assistance in God save the King,' until Tramezzani, the tenor of the Italian Opera, sang his verse. It was he who introduced alterations in the execution of the anthem, some of which are feebly retained at the present day. He had acted several nights in a sort of mono-dramatic operetta called 'Pigmalione,' and on the last night sang 'God save the King.' It had been heretofore little better than a dull psalm. But Tramezzani sang it in the style of a fervent and enthusiastically devout prayer, and quite electrified the house by the discrimination, and energy with which he invoked the divine aid in the stanza of "O Lord our God, arise," &c. From Birmingham my father

1811-12.

A DANGEROUS ACQUAINTANCE.

51

removed his company to Leicester, and I was sent to London to sit again to Dewilde in the character of Hamlet, which portrait, it was agreed, should be sent to the Exhibition of the next year. This was regarded by my father as one of the best advertisements, and, as I have since remarked, he set too high a value on these modes of attracting public attention, which must come under the ordinary term of "puffing." My experience has convinced me that the repute derived from it is usually short-lived, and the merits of those who have profited by it have been constantly open to question. Honest perseverance in the cultivation of the talent with which God may have blessed us, and the earnest purpose of aiming at the noblest ends of which it may be capable and to which it may aspire, is certain of recognition in the long run and bases itself on the firmest foundation. During the three or four weeks that my attendance on Dewilde detained me in London, I took up my abode at the York Hotel, Charles Street, Covent Garden. I frequented the theatres, and was an occasional guest with my friend Fawcett. In the coffee-room of the hotel I could not help noticing, from his constant attendance there at breakfast and dinner, a gentleman of rather remarkable appearance. His dress was that of a clergyman; he wore a broad-brimmed hat, which in going out he pressed down almost to his eyebrows, giving an extraordinary effect to his ensemble; he was tall, well-featured, of excellent address, and seemingly a sort of oracle among the frequenters of the house. I had been in town about a fortnight, when he began to honour me with a bow in passing, and at length entering into conversation with me, proposed to order his dinner to my table-a compliment which I, of course, gladly accepted. I found him in conversation most agreeable, extensively read, and of superior taste and acquirement. He had got my name, &c., at the bar, and the theatre being one of the subjects of our discourse, he invited me to accompany him to Covent Garden Theatre on the following Monday to see Young in Othello, Charles Kemble acting, I think for the first time, Iago. We agreed to dine together early and go to the pit, where he always occupied a particular place.

On the Sunday previous I dined with Fawcett, and was lavish in my praise of the agreeable acquaintance I had

made, enlarging upon his gentlemanly address, his information, taste, &c. On Monday, our appointment being duly kept, we went together to the pit of the theatre. Young acted in his usual effective declamatory way, and my only observation was of something like a rude remark by a neighbouring visitor, as spoken at something which my companion had said. The next afternoon Fawcett, with whom I had some little business, inquired of me very particularly about the gentleman of whom I had been speaking on the Sunday. "Was he tall, dark-haired, bald, wearing his hat low down on his forehead?" &c. When to all these inquiries I answered in the affirmative, he broke out in a very alarming way, “My dear boy, it is a mercy I have met you. He is a man of most dreadful character. I would not have you seen with him for the world." "Why, good gracious!" I replied, "I was with him at Covent Garden last night." "Well, no one could have observed you, for Mrs. Fawcett and some friends noticed him in his place, but did not remark you. I do not wonder at your being pleased with his manners and conversation. He was once one of the most eloquent and popular preachers in London. I remember when on Sundays Great Queen Street used to be crowded with carriages in attendance at his chapel there. He is of very good family, and was secure of the highest preferment. His name was. Dr. Some very disgraceful conduct brought him within the danger of the law, from which, through interest, he was saved, but was obliged to give up his chapel, is shunned by his family and friends, and now takes his mother's name, Dr. Q-." All this news, as may be supposed, caused me, a youth inexperienced in the world, great agitation, and, as the only way to avoid the man, I resolved to change my hotel. This my good friend Fawcett approved, and taking me to the Old Slaughter Coffee House, St. Martin's Lane, and furnishing me with funds until I obtained my remittance from home, established my quarters there one of those houses which, for good English dinners and excellent port wine, are among the pleasant memories of a bygone time.

When my sittings were ended I left London for Leicester, where I acted for several weeks, and then proceeded with my father to Newcastle. An addition to his regular company