Hear, nature, hear!

Dear goddess, hear! Suspend thy purpose, if
Thou didst intend to make this creature fruitful!
Into her womb convey sterility!

And from her derogate body never spring

A babe to honour her! If she must teem,
Create her child of spleen; that it may live,
And be a thwart disnatur'd torment to her!
Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth;
With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks;
Turn all her mother's pains and benefits

To laughter and contempt; that she may feel
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is

To have a thankless child!"

That Mr. Kemble was capable of showing the force of contrast to a wonderful extent, was, among other instances, evident in his Posthumus Leonatus, in the vivid change from the agony of suspicion to the relief of hope, when, in the midst of his torture at Iachimo's proof of Imogen's alleged infidelity, eagerly catching at the bare suggestion of his friend Philario, that the ring might have been stolen by her women, and half interrupting him, he exclaimed,

"Aye, very true!"

In characters of vehemence and passion, such as Hotspur and Octavian, he so contrived to husband his physical powers, even in their decline, as to produce astounding effects in the most prominent scenes.

One of the happiest and most spirited of all Mr. Kemble's performances, and in which even his defects blended with his excellencies to form a perfect whole, was his Pierre. The dissolute indifference assumed by this character to cover the darkness of his designs, and the fierceness of his revenge, accorded admirably with Mr. Kemble's manner; and the tone of morbid rancorous raillery in which Pierre delights to indulge, was in unison with the actor's reluctant, contemptuous personifications of gaiety, and with the scornful spirit of his comic muse, which always laboured invita Minerva against the grain.

Penruddock, in the Wheel of Fortune, was also one of

those characters in which no other actor could pretend to approach him. The mild, pensive, deeply-rooted melancholy of Penruddock, his embittered recollections and dignified benevolence, were exhibited by Mr. Kemble with equal truth, elegance, and feeling. Although he dressed the part in the humblest modern habit, still he looked some superior creature. In the Stranger, too, which is in fact nearly the same character, he appeared to brood over the remembrance of disappointed hope till his grief became a part of himself. The feeling which pervaded him never varied. The weight at his heart was never lightened. It seemed as if his whole life was a suppressed sigh.

Having thus, however imperfectly, described the qualifications of Mr. Kemble for his profession, and noticed a few of his principal characters, we shall proceed to 'give some account of his retirement; which was attended by such extraordinary tokens of public admiration and regard, that it deserves to be particularly recorded.

On the 25th of October, 1816, Mr. Kemble, having returned to London, commenced his last theatrical season, and played most of his chief characters (several of them repeatedly), viz. Cato, Coriolanus, the Stranger, Pierre, Brutus, Lord Townley, King John, Penruddock, Hotspur, Hamlet, Zanga, Cardinal Wolsey, Octavian, Leonatus Posthumus, and Macbeth. On the 23d of June, 1817, he took his final leave of the stage in Coriolanus.

As soon as it became generally known that Mr. Kemble was to perform for the last time on the night of the 23d of June, every box in the house was secured, and the orchestra was fitted up for the accommodation of those lovers of the drama who longed to see their great actor once more. All the leading members of the profession, and among them M. Talma, were present. Mr. Kemble played Coriolanus with an abandonment of self-care, with a boundless energy, a loose of strength, as though he felt that he should never play again, and that he needed to husband his powers no longer. The audience were borne along with him until they ap

proached the rapids of the last act and then they seemed at once conscious of their approaching fate, and shrank from the fall. The curtain dropped amidst shouts of "No farewell! No farewell!" but, true to himself, the proud actor came forward, evidently "oppressed with grief, oppressed with care." He struggled long before he could obtain silence, and then he struggled long before he could break it. At length, he stammered out, in honest, earnest truth, "I have now appeared before you for the last time; this night closes my professional life." The burst of "No! No!" was tremendous; but Mr. Kemble had "rallied life's whole energy to die;" and he stood his ground; continuing his farewell address, when the storm abated, in the following words; of course frequently interrupted by his own feelings, and by the ardent and affectionate cheers of the audience.

mean,

"I am so much agitated that I cannot express with any tolerable propriety what I wish to say. I feared, indeed, that I should not be able to take my leave of you with sufficient fortitude, composure, I and had intended to withdraw myself from before you in silence; but I suffered myself to be persuaded that if it were only from old custom, some little parting word would be expected from me on this occasion. Ladies and Gentlemen, I entreat you to believe, that, whatever abilities I have possessed, either as an actor, in the performance of the characters allotted to me, or as a manager, in endeavouring at a union of propriety and splendour in the representation of our best plays, and particularly of those of the divine Shakspeare; I entreat you to believe that all my labours, all my studies, whatever they have been, have been made delightful to me, by the approbation with which you have been pleased constantly to reward them.

"I beg you, Ladies and Gentlemen, to accept my thanks for : the great kindness you have invariably shown me, from the first night I became a candidate for public favour, down to this painful moment of my parting with you! I must take

my leave at once. Ladies and Gentlemen, I most respect> fully bid you a long, and an unwilling farewell!"

At the moment of his withdrawing, a laurel wreath, attached to which was a scroll, containing an urgent request that he would not take his final leave, but consent to perform a few nights every season, as long as his health would permit, was passed by a gentleman in the pit to M. Talma, in the orchestra, for the purpose of being handed over by him to Mr. Kemble. This, however, not being effected in time, the manager was called for, and Mr. Fawcett appeared. He took the wreath, and declared the pride he felt in being commissioned to present it. The audience then sadly and slowly left the theatre, as if they had been witnessing a death.

Behind the scenes Mr. Kemble had more kindness to encounter. The mixed feelings of respect and regret which had been so strongly manifested by the audience, still more powerfully agitated Mr. Kemble's professional associates in the green-room. They crowded round, earnestly soliciting some trifling article of his dress as a memorial. Mr. Mathews, who, though in a different walk of the drama, is, from his general knowledge of the art, as well qualified as any man to appreciate the merit of a tragic actor, and who had ever been an unfeigned admirer of Mr. Kemble's theatrical talent, received from his hands the gift of his sandals. Miss Bristow obtained the handkerchief Mr. Kemble had used that evening on the stage; which she playfully promised to keep more faithfully than Desdemona had kept that of her lord. On Mr. Kemble's leaving the theatre, the stage-entrance was filled up by all ranks of the dramatic corps, anxious to offer a last salutation to their veteran commander, while the outside of the door was thronged by individuals of every de scription, eager to catch a last glance of their favourite tragedian.

It had for some time been in contemplation by a band of his numerous admirers, to invite Mr. Kemble to a public dinner; in order to testify by so unequivocal a mark of personal at

tention, their sense of his professional excellence, and their regret at his retirement from the stage.

A public meeting having been called for the purpose, a committee was immediately appointed to make the necessary arrangements; and a subscription was entered into for the purchase of a piece of plate, to be presented to Mr. Kemble on the occasion. The 27th of June, 1817, was fixed upon as the day on which he was to receive one of the most sincere and gratifying compliments that was ever bestowed on any individual. Men of intellect and taste seemed to vie with one another in endeavouring to pay him honour. A design for a vase was furnished by Mr. Flaxman. A medal was struck for the committee by Mr. Warwick, from a portrait in the possession of Mr. Mathews. Mr. Poole, the well-known dramatic author, contributed an elegant inscription for the vase. Mr. Thomas Campbell wrote an ode, which Mr. Young undertook to recite; and the musical accompaniment to which was ably composed by Mr. T. Cooke.

Lord Holland was in the chair at the dinner. The room was thronged with noblemen, and persons of literary taste and character. Among those who took tickets were the Duke of Bedford, the Marquis of Lansdowne, the Marquis of Tavistock, the Marquis of Worcester, the Earl of Aberdeen, the Earl of Blessington, the Earl of Carlisle, the Earl of Essex, the Earl of Egremont, the Earl of Fife, the Earl of Harrington, the Earl of Lauderdale, Earl Mulgrave, the Earl of Ossory, Earl Percy, the Earl of Stair, the Earl of Yarmouth, Baron de Arabet, Lord Cahir, Lord Erskine, Lord William Gordon, Lord Kirkwall, Lord Mountnorris, Lord Petersham, Lord Torrington, Sir George Beaumont, Sir N.Conant, Sir G. Heathcote, Sir W. Owen, Sir Robert Wilson, the Right Hon. G. Canning, the Right Hon. I. K. Frere, the Right Hon. G. Tierney, the Hon. G. Lambe, the Hon. D. Macdonald, J. W. Croker, Esq. M. P., J. Calcraft, Esq. M.P., J. H. Leigh, Esq. M.P., Dr. Burney, Dr. C. Burney, the Rev. G. Crabbe, the Rev. D. Lysons, the Rev. J. Vicary,