USA > New York > Old New York : or, Reminiscences of the past sixty years > Part 24
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Towards the close of his second visit to Amer- ica, Kcan made a tour through the northern part of the State, and visited Canada ; he fell in with the Indians, with whom he became delighted, and was chosen a chief of a tribe. Some time after, not aware of his return to the city, I received, at a late hour of the evening, a call to wait upon an Indian chief, by the name of Alantenaida, as the highly finished card left at my house had it. Kean's ordinary card was Edmund Kean, en- graved ; he generally wrote underneath, “ Integer vitæ scelerisque purus." I repaired to the hotel, and was conducted up stairs to the folding-doors of the hall, when the servant left me. I entered, aided by the feeble light of the room ; but at the
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remote end I soon perceived something like a forest of evergreens, lighted up by many rays from floor- lamps, and surrounding a stage or throne ; and seated in great state was the chief. I advanced, and a more terrific warrior I never surveyed. Red Jacket or Black Hawk was an unadorned, simple personage in comparison. Full dressed, witlı skins tagged loosely about his person, a broad collar of bear-skin over his shoulders, his leggings, with many stripes, garnished with porcupine quills ; his moccasons decorated with beads ; his head decked with the war-eagle's plumes, behind which flowed massive black locks of dishevelled horse-hair ; golden-colored rings pendant from the nose and ears ; streaks of yellow paint over the face, massive red daubings about the eyes, with various hues in streaks across the forehead, not very artistically drawn. A broad belt surrounded his waist, with tomahawk ; his arms, with shining bracelets, stretched out with bow and arrow, as if ready for a mark. He descended his throne and rapidly approached me. His cye was meteoric and fear- ful, like the furnace of the cyclops. He vocifer- ously exclaimed, Alantenaida ! the vowels strong enough. I was relieved ; he betrayed something of his raucous voice in imprecation. It was Kean. An explanation took place. He wished to know the merits of the representation. The Hurons had honored him by admission into their tribe,
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and he could not now determine whether to seek his final earthly abode with them for real happi- ness, or return to London, and add renown to his name by performing the Son of the Forest. I never heard that he ever afterwards attempted, in his own country, the character. He was wrought up to the highest pitch of enthusiasm at the In- dian honor he had received, and declared that even Old Drury had never conferred so proud a distinc- tion on him as he had received from the Hurons. My visit was of some time. After pacing the room, with Indian step, for an hour or more, and contemplating himself before a large mirror, he was prevailed upon to change his dress and retire to rest. A day or two after, he sailed for Europe, with his Indian paraphernalia."
* The professional receipts of Kean during his engagement in New York, were, I believe, at least cqual to those for a like num- ber of nights which he received at the acme of his renown in London. His average income for some twelve or fifteen years was not less than ten thousand pounds per annum. He rescued Old Drury from bankruptey, yet he is said to have been often in need, and died almost penniless. There was no one special ex- travagance chargeable to him ; but he was reckless in money mat- ters, and figures entered not into his calculations. He had a help- ing hand for all applications, and he never forgot his early friends. As in the case of Quin, the needy found in him a benefactor. The noble conduct of his son Charles is familiarly known, and his at- tention in giving greater protection to his father's monument of Cooke in St. Paul's churchyard, is proof sufficient of his generous qualities ; but no language can plead in extenuation of the de- plorabie prodigality of the elder Kean.
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EDMUND KEAN.
I have said nothing of the intemperate habits, or of the extravagance and profuse liberality of Kean. That word intemperate is to be viewed in various lights, and with much qualification. The old proverb, that what is one man's food is an- other's poison, has much of fact in it. Viewing, moreover, intemperance as among the greatest ca- lamities that afflict mortals, I should sadden in my soul if a word proceeded from my lips that might give it any quarters. But Mr. Kean's sus- ceptibilities to impression were such that high ex- citement might follow two or three glasses of port. Mr. Grattan has well described the progress of that condition in Kean, and I have observed, at several times, that those Latin citations of his were ominous. Yet I never saw Mr. Kean indulge in any drink whatever, until the labors of the drama were over. That he often at other times erred, I am ready to admit. Knox, an English actor, who played Glenalvon, demanded two quarts of brandy to go through with that character in his stentorian way, and when I administered reproof to him, because of his inordinate indulgence, he only replied it was just the right measure. John Reeve, according to manager Simpson, partook still more bountifully to carry through his broad farce ; but he was very bulky, and required almost a kilderkin to saturate him. The benevolence of Kean, and his charities, were almost proverbs.
*
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Another noble attribute characterized him : he was free of professional envy, and lauded rising merit. All he asked was to be announced to the public in large letters. He prognosticated the career of Forrest, after seeing his Othello once. I could not dismiss Kean with more brevity. He was a meteor in the dramatic firmament. I might have added much more. The classical Tucker- man, in his Biographical Essays, has given us an admirable exposition of the philosophy of the man and his acting, and Proctor has done well with him, but might have done better. I shall say less of Mathews and Macready.
Hemmed in as I am by time and circum- stances, I am compelled to restrict my observations on Charles Mathews, a man of extraordinary facul- ties, who had secured a prodigious renown in his vocation ere his arrival in the American States, and which reputation was increased by his public displays in this country. He was a remarkable specimen of what early training and study may accomplish. His very physical defects yielded to him 'special advantages. His close observation, his susceptible nervous system, his half hypochon- driacal temperament, sharpened a natural acute- ness, which, with uninterrupted devotion, led to results of the most commanding regard. If ever triumph was secured by speciality, it was eminently so in the case of Mathews. He studied occur-
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CHARLES MATHEWS.
rences with the severity of philosophical analysis. Attitudes, the lear of the eye, the motion of the lip, the crook of the fingers, the turn of the toe, the ringlet of a lock, intonation of voice, every demonstration of emotion or passion, came within the scope of his capabilities. The characteristics of divers nations marking every condition of varied life, from the dignity of the Plenipo to the ser- vitude of the menial, were all caught by him, and you looked in turn to him for the verisimilitude of every delineation he attempted. The brooding cadence of the cooing dove, and the hideous bray- ing of the donkey, were equally at the command of his versatile talents. He was, in short, the master of mimic power, and used it with unpar- alleled effect. In comedy he was the acknowl- edged head in numerous parts. His Goldfinch is represented to me, by experienced theatrical goers, to have surpassed that of Hodgkinson ; his Lord Ogilby, his Morbleau, his Monsieur Mallet, his Coddle, and many other portraitures, still remain in vivid recollection. His " At Home " proved him, indeed, the actor of all work, and with the American community, yielding to the persuasions of friends, he evinced the extraordinary capacity that Othello could be enacted by him with signal success.
If it be asked how came Mathews the posses- sor of such rare gifts, I answer, they were derived
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from a nervous susceptibility of the most impres- sible order, from intense study, and the cultiva- tion of elegant literature. He read largely ; he was quickened into observation by every phase of varied life, and his morbid constitution never for- sook him, or tolerated indifference to surrounding objects. Like an homeopathic patient, he was never well-always complaining, and ever on the look-out, with this difference, however, that while the narcotized victim seems incessantly in search of physical improvement, Mathews seemed ever to be busy in intellectual progress. With the dex- terity of an archer he aimed at characteristics wherever they might be found, and made the pe- culiarities of individuals the pledge of his skill. Abroad he sought out John Philpot Curran, and embodied both the manner and thoughts of the orator most faithfully. In this country he looked out for the great Irish orator, Thomas Addis Em- met, and unconsciously, to the great pleader, took him to the life, in manner and in tone, with tran- scendent effect. Had that jurist lived in these latter days, with spiritualism and clairvoyance running mad, he might have concluded himself to have been translated into some other individu- ality.
Mathews' arrival in New York occurred in Sep- tember, 1822 ; the yellow fever was prevailing. I received a kind note from that benevolent man,
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Simpson, the manager of the Park Theatre, to hasten on board a ship off the harbor, in which was Mr. Mathews, in mental distress at the pros- pect of landing. The phenomena exhibited by his nervous temperament were most striking : he had been informed that one hundred and forty deaths had occurred on that day. Though some three miles off the Battery, he felt, he affirmed, the pestilential air of the city ; every cloud came to him surcharged with mortality ; every wave imparted from the deep exhalations of destruc- tion. He walked the deck, tottering, and in the extremest agitation. He refused to land at the city, and insisted upon finding shelter in some re- mote place. Hoboken was decided upon, and thither Mr. Simpson and myself accompanied him. Some two miles from the Jersey shore, on the road towards Hackensack, Mr. Simpson found lodgings for him in a rural retreat occupied by a gardener. Here Mathews passed the night walk- ing to and fro in his limited apartment, ruminat- ing on his probable departure within a few hours to the world of spirits. Hoboken, as it afforded him safety, as time proved, in his extreme distress, afterwards became his favorite spot for repose dur- ing his professional toil, and very often, after his theatrical duties were discharged, he was conveyed at midnight hour to that then beautiful locality. Not a few of the suggestions which crossed his
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mind in contemplating the American or Yankee character, were here elaborated for his future graphic sketches in dramatic delineation.
This great comedian was well stored with knowl- edge, and cherished a heartfelt love for literary char- acters ; his visit to Edinburgh, and his acquaintance with Sir Walter Scott, Terry, and other eminent men of the stage, authors, and actors, and the social circle in domestic society, in which he held a part, led him to a high appreciation of intellectual pur- suits. Our Cooper, our Irving, Halleck and Dun- lap, were among his favorite friends. With Dr. Hosack and the generous Philip Hone, he enjoyed many festive hours. Mathews was the first indi- vidual, I heard, who gave a pretty decisive opin- ion that Scott was the author of the Waverley novels ; this was five years before the disclosure of the fact, by Sir Walter himself, at the Ballantyne dinner, and while we in New York were digesting the argument of Coleman, of the Evening Post, and his correspondents, who attempted to prove that such could not be the truth, and that a Ma- jor or Col. Scott, of Canada, was the actual au- thor. The adhesion to this belief was, I believe, never broken up in the mind of Coleman. But this pertinacity was very characteristic, for what could you do with a man who contended through life that Bonaparte was no soldier ; that Priestley had done the world infinitely more harm than
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good ; that skullcap was a certain specific for the cure of hydrophobia, and that yellow fever was as contagious as the plague of Aleppo ? And he held many for a while in his belief, for Coleman was pronounced by his advocates a field marshal in literature, as well as in politics. There was much of worldly prudence in the habits and de- meanor of Charles Mathews, and he who would comprehend the labors, self-denials, and toils of the successful competitor for histrionic distinction, might profitably study the life of this renowned actor. He was the apostle of temperance and circumspection.
Macready, having secured a provincial reputa- tion, appeared on the London boards at that par- ticular juncture in histrionic affairs when Kemble, Mrs. Siddons, and Young had left the stage, or were about to withdraw from the sphere of their labors, and when Miss O'Neil was on the eve of closing her brilliant and most successful career. His first appearance in the metropolis was in the character of Orestes, in the Distressed Mother. His reception was all that could be desired, and Kean, with his wonted liberality, applauded his talents. He soon assumed the Shakspearian char- acters, and his Coriolanus, Richard the Third, Macbeth, and his Iago, added vastly to his re- nown. The world, however, cannot always be de- voted to Shakspeare ; novelty is sought, and
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Macready presented a captivating example of it in his Rob Roy. He became the original repre- sentative of several of Sheridan Knowles' heroes, and his Caius Gracchus and William Tell gave still greater scope to his commanding powers. In 1826 he visited New York, and won the homage of the severest critics, by his personation of the inaster characters of Shakspeare, which he had enacted in London. Upon his return to the · United States in 1849, he still further swelled the tide of public approbation by his King Lear, Wil- liam Tell, and his Richelieu. The disasters which disgraced our metropolis, by the occurrence of the Astor Opera House riot, are still fresh in memory, and need not be dwelt upon. On that memorable occasion, Macready gave proofs abundant of his personal prowess and undaunted spirit. Mr. Macready has made three visits to the United States-in 1826, 1844, and 1849-and has been received at each visitation with an increased pub- lic approbation.
To analyze the wide range of the drama which the professional life of Macready embraced, would be presumptuous, and is not within our power ; we are, moreover, merely touching some of the leading incidents in the histrionic movements of this city, and are exempt from the obligations which an ad- dress to the Dramatic Association might impose. Mr. Macready is less of a comedian than tragedian,
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WILLIAM C. MACREADY.
but in this latter, the materials are ample to de- monstrate that, in the maturity of his faculties, his efficiency justly placed him at the head of the English stage. He cannot be entirely classed with the exclusive followers of nature, though he bor- rowed largely from her resources ; and it would be unjust to his original powers to attribute his ex- cellences to his adoption of the cold and formal school of actors. Hazlitt, a discriminating dra- matic critic, pronounced him by far the best tragic actor that had come out, with the exception of Kean. But Mr. Macready has other and higher claims to our regard and esteem. He studied and enacted Shakspeare less for objects of pecuniary result than to bring out for increased admiration the matchless beauties and the deep philosophy of the great author in the purity of his own incom- parable diction ; and he made corresponding efforts to eradicate the corruptions which annotators and playwrights have introduced. He loathed the clap-traps of sentiment with which the stage was so often burthcned. He was restless with the commentators. The bloated reputation of Cibber's interpolations he decried, and felt anguish at the innovations of even Dryden and Massinger. They were obstacles to the true worship of Shakspeare, and he deemcd it imperative that they be over- come. We should hold no parley, he said, with critics who could pilfer an absurdity, and then pro-
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fanely saddle it on Shakspeare. Assuredly he de- serves all praise for his unceasing toil and his noble ambition.
Mr. Macready has been ever scrupulously careful about assuming a part in plays which tended to the exaltation of the baser passions, and the increase of licentiousness. The regularity of his own life added to the self-gratification he enjoyed from so scrupulous a line of conduct in his professional duty. Believing that a great ethical principle for the improvement of morals and the diffusion of knowledge resided in the stage, he, above all things, wished Shakspeare to be exhibited as he is, unencumbered with the trappings of other minds, and I have little doubt that in his happy retirement he finds solace in the conduct he adopted. Elegant letters occupy' a portion of the leisure hours which Mr. Macready has at command since his withdrawal from theatrical toil, and the journals have recently noticed with commendation the efforts he is engaged in to enlarge the empire of thought and morals by promoting the estab- lishment of public schools. He virtually, if recent reports be true, is at this present period a volun- tary teacher of morals and science. His philan- thropy has created a school for the rising gen- eration, and even for maturer years, at his beautiful retreat, at Sherborne, in Dorsetshire. Whatever may have been the vicissitudes and trials which
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WILLIAM C. MACREADY.
have oppressed at times the course of his honorable life, he will assuredly find an adequate recompense in the benevolent and grateful pursuits which now absorb so largely his experienced intellect. His late lecture on poetry, and its influence on popular education, delivered before the British Athenaeum, has been read by thousands with the strongest ap- proval.
To these fragmentary observations on the drama and the players, I shall add a quotation from a judicious criticism on the edition of Shakspeare lately published, with numerous annotations, by the Rev. H. N. Hudson. Few will dissent from the closing remarks of the able writer. Mr. Gould observes : " We cannot forbear a passing remark on the disappearance of the theatrical represen- tatives of Shakspeare, just at the point of time when his text, in its highest attainable purity, is restored to the world. Garrick, Kemble, Siddons, Cooke, Kean, and Macready, for the greater part of a century, practically expounded the language of the poet ; and the genius of the actor, co- operating with the genius of the author, unfolded to five successive generations the living realities of Shakspeare's power. These six luminaries have now all passed away ; Macready alone surviving to enjoy in retirement the homage due to his pub- lic talents and private virtues. The loss of these great actors is the more to be deplored, because
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their art dies with them, and hence it is not strange that, with their professional exit, the drama itself should have declined. Shakspeare is immortal in the library ; but on the stage probably few men now living will see him resuscitated."
To this brief but impartial narrative of the his- trionic art among us, I can add but little more at present. The past twenty or thirty years are indeed full of dramatic incident, and demand an ample page for illustration. Some one doubtless will ap- pear in due season to record its triumphs and its defeats. Conway might justify some few lines ; a man of acknowledged powers, of high aspira- tions, and of close study, whose tuition in the once popular school of Kemble failed as a passport to entire success. Something more he found was wanting, and laboring in the complex- ities of various readings and orthoepy, his ner- vous temperament yielded to the mortification of defeat : finding himself undervalued, melancholy marked him as her own, and a fixed reserve and seclusion characterized his entire demeanor. His sensitive nature finally led him to self-destruction, by drowning himself in his passage by sea for Charleston. That remarkable woman in literary history, Mrs. Piozzi, in her eightieth year had addressed to him many letters touching affairs of the heart, which the sense of Conway must have deemed the offspring of dotage ; but after his
COOPER .- CLASON. 249
death an inquisitive public brought them to light. Conway was beyond the reach of medical skill when I became acquainted with him.
The career of Cooper, long signalized by suc- cess, would constitute a chapter in diversified life richly instructive. His laurels were withered by Cooke, but he achieved new honors in William Tell, Virginius, and other parts. Wood, in his interesting Recollections of the Stage, quotes the approbation bestowed on Cooper by Roscoe, the historian of Leo X. Cooper was an incessant reader of Schlegel, who, he said, was the only worthy commentator on Shakspeare. Booth, an eccentric, reckless, and unreliable man, who assumed a rivalship with the elder Kean, might be noted for his extravagant displays of dramatic power, and his final failure. He lacked judgment, he pos- sessed genius. He, nevertheless, was held in ad- miration by many of the friends of the drama. Brief and imperfect as these sketches of the stage are, I cannot omit a record of the appearance of Clason on the New York boards in 1824. He enacted Zanga and Hamlet with artistic skill, ripe judgment, and effect. He early was drawn into a fondness for elegant literature ; he read history profoundly ; studied rhetoric, and had given in- struction in the art of reading with great appro- bation. His genius was manifested in an eminent degree by his publication of two cantos of Don
11*
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Juan, the 17th and 18th, as a continuation by Lord Byron. In England he formed an acquaint- ance with Dibdin, the celebrated song writer, and for a while wrote for the periodical journals ; and having exhausted fortune and friends, terminated life by suffocation from charcoal, in 1830, at the age of about thirty-two years. " His fate," says Dr. Griswold, " is an unfavorable commentary on his character." We may more wonder that so great a libertine lived so long, than that so incon- siderate a man died so soon.
Other names of equal consideration might find a place in the modern history of theatrical affairs in New York. Philips and Incledon, in the melo- dramatic line ; Tyrone Power, the attractive co- median ; Horne, the vocalist. Excessive mobility of the nervous system characterized all these dis- ciples of the musical world. The first of them is best remembered by his falsetto and his Eveleen's Bower ; Incledon, by the uncommon powers of his voice, his energetic and harmonious strains ; the ballad was his forte, and his Black-eyed Susan and the Storm, the proofs of his mastery in melo- dy ; his part in the " Quaker " was his best acting. Power excelled in the Irish character, as did his great predecessor Johnstone ; he introduced the richest brogue, and was the soul of vivacity. The direful disaster, his loss in the steamship President, is still fresh in memory. Horn first evinced his
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CHARLES E. HORN.
musical talent in New York, in the character of Caspar in Der Freischutz ; he was a composer as well as a performer, and much of the popular song music of the past twenty years was of his coinage.
At the stated meeting of the venerable Society of Cincinnati, held 4th of July, 1842, at which Gen. Morgan Lewis, as President, officiated, then in the eighty-seventh year of his age, with Major Popham, soon after his successor in office, and several other revolutionary worthies, Horn was an invited guest. Like all other musical men whom I have known, and who have seen much of the world, I found him courteous, refined, and of agree- able address. He told us of the vast sums several of his musical compositions had brought him, sang several of his own melodies, and two or three of our continental ballads, concerning Gage and Cornwallis, to the delight of the old patriots. Horn died in Boston, a few years after, of pul- monary disorder.
For a series of years the manager of our Park Theatre, Price, strove hard by liberal pecuniary proffers to secure the appearance of John Kemble and Mrs. Siddons on our boards. The insuperable difficulty was the dread of an Atlantic voyage. It would appear these renowned performers could never overcome their apprehensions of danger from such an undertaking. Price often regretted the disappointment, and he had friends enough to
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