The weekly herald. [volume] (Cleveland, Tenn.) 1876-1888, 1877-05-31
Edmund Kean.-His FIRST Appearance
on the London stage.

part. Arnold wanted Richard, but
Kean knew the disadvantages his small
figure would be at, when compared with
the majestic Kemble, aud answered,
"ShylOck or nothing" There was
marvellous resoluteness In this determi-
nation, considering all he had passed
through, which was sufficient TO crush
the strongest spirit. But 1t succeeded,
and the 26th of January, 1914, was Gecl-
ded for his appearance. One rehearsal
only was vouchsafed him, and that was
hurried and careless. The actors
sneered at his figure, at his shabby coat
with the capes, at his business, declared
1t would not do and prophesied certain
failure. He went home. 81 must dine
to-day" he said; and for the first time
in many days INDUCED in the luxury
of meat. Then all he had to do was to
wait as patiently as he could for the
night. "My Godw he exclaimed; "if
| succeed | shall go mad" AS the
church clocks were striking six he sal
lied from his lodgings In Cecil street.
His parting words to his wife were, 81
wish | was going to be shot" In his
hand he carried small bundle, con-
tanning shoes, stockings, wig and other
trines of costume. The night was very
cold and fOggy; there had been heavy
snow and thaw had set in; the streets
were almost impossible with slush,
which penetrated through his worn
boots and chilled him to the bone. He
darted quickly through the stage door,
wishing to escape all notice, and re-
paired to his dressing room.
There the feelings of the actors were
shocked by another innovation; he was
actually going to play Shylock in a
black wig instead of the traditional red
one. They smiled among themselves,
shrugged their shoulders, but made no
remark; such man was beyond re.
monstrance-besides, what did it mat
ter? He would never be allowed to ap-
pear second time. Jack Bannister
and Oxberry were the only ones who
offered him friendly word. When the
curtain rose the house was mlserably
bad, but by and by the overflow of Co.
vent Garden, which was doing well at
that time, began to drop in and make up
tolerable audience. His reception
was encouraging. At his first words,
"Three thousand ducats-wellw ~ DR..
Drury, who was in front, pronounced
him "safe." AT "I will be assured,
say" there was burst of applause, and
at the speech ending with "And for
these courtesies I'll lend you this much
money" the sounds of appreciation
were very strong. Even as the curtain
fell upon the first act success was
almost insured, and already the actors
who had treated him so superciliously
began to gather around with congratu
lations. But he shrank from them and
wandered about in the darkness at the
back of the stage.
The great triumph was reserved for
his scene with Salanio and SalarinO in
the third act, where the flight of Jes-
sica with a Christian is told him. There
so terrible was his energy, so magnif1-
cent his acting, thata whirlwind of APP
plause shook the house. Then came
the trial scene, grander still in its COM
plex emotions and its larger scope for
great powers, and all was so novel, so
strange, so opposed TO old traditions.
When the curtain finally fell upon the
wild enthusiasm of the audience, the
stage-manager, who had snubbed him,
offered him oranges. Arnold, who had
bullied and "Young man'd" him,
brought him negus. Drunk with de-
light, he rushed home, and, with half
frenzied incoherency, he poured out the
story of his triumph. "The pit rose at
mel" he cried. "Mary, you shall ride
in your carriage yet! Charles" lifting
the child from his bed, "shall go to
EtOn!" Then his voice faltered, and
he ~murmured, "If Howard had but
lived to sec it." The "Merchant of
Venice" was played several nights in
succession, and the receipts rose from
E100 to G600.
His next part was Richard-the
second part is always the touclstone Of
an actors success; here he entered the
late ,yftb Tnoly and Kar. hla and ,ovnn
ries of Garrick's splendid performances
had not yet died out among old play
goers. In ShylOck his small stature
mattered little, but in Richard that dis
advantage would be glaringly percepti-
BILE; he approached the part with fear
and trembling. "I'm so frightened"
he said before the curtain rose, "that
my acting will be almost dumb show
tonight" But nevertheless he took
both audience and critics by storm.
Cooke, the great Richard Of the day,
was said to be left behind at an im
measurable distance; no such perform
ance had been seen since the DAYS of
Garrick. But the terrible excitement
he had undergone laid him up for a
week. Actors now boast of playing
this arduous part nearly a hundred sue
cessive nights; as they play it there Is
nothing wonderful in the feat, and then
they have no inconyenient modesty to
exhaust their energies. On the day of
the second performance of this charac-
ter the doors were besieged soon after
noon, and at night hundreds were un.
able to gain admission. He made Glib
ber's melodramatic hero his owD, but lC
died in him, for the wretched attempts