The Cincinnati daily star. [volume] ([Cincinnati, Ohio]) 1875-1880, 1878-07-11
EDMUND II KEAN'S FIRST APPEAR
ANCE ON THE LONDON STAGE.

| A dispute arose as to the opening part.
| Arnold wanted Richard but Kean knew tbs
disadvantages his small figure would be at,
when compared with the majestic Kemhle,
and answered, "Shylock or nothing"
There was marvellous resoluteness in this
determination, considering all he had
passed through which was sufficient to
crush the strongest spirit. But it sue
ceeded, and the goth of January, 1914, was
decided for his appearance. One rehearsal
only was youchsated him, and that was
hurried and careless. The actors sneered
at his figure, at his shabby coat with the
capes, at his business, declared it would
not do and prophesied certain failure. lie
went home. 81 must dine to-day" he
said; and for the first time in many days
INDUCED in the luxury of meat. Then ull
he had to do was to wait as patiently as lie
could for the night. "NIy God !" he ex-
claimed; "if l succeed shall go mad"
As the church clocks were striking six he
sailed from his lodgings in Cecil street.
Ills pal ling words to his wife were, II
wish l was going to be shot" In his
hand he carried small bundle, containing
shoes, stockings, wig and other trides 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 tho
stage door, wishing to escape all notice,
and repaired to his dressing room.
There the feelings Of the actors were
shocked by another innovation; he was ac-
tually 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
a man was beyond remonstrance-besides
what did 1t matter? He would never be
allowed to appear second time. Jack
Bannister and Oxberry were the only ones
who offered him friendly word. When
the curtain rUse the house was miserably
bad, but by and by the overflow of Covent
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 due
ats-well" " DR.. Drury, who was in
front, pronounced him "safe." AT 81
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 round with congratulations. But
he shrank from them, and wandered about
in the darkness at the back of the sage.
The great triumph was reserved for his
scene with Satanic and Saarino in the
third act, where the fight of Jessica with
q Christian is told him. There so terrible
was his energy, so magnificent his acting,
that a whirlwind Of applause shook the
house. Then came the trial scene, grander
still in its complex emotions and its larger
scope for great powers, and all was SO
novel, SO strange, so opposed to old tradi-
tions. When the curtain finally fell upon
the wild enthusiasm of the audience, the
stage manager, who had snubbed him, Of
| foraI bIy, AynoIJ ho hol LII
lied and young man'd" him, brought
him negus. Drunk with delight, he
rushed home, and, with half frenzied in
coherency, poured forth the story of his
triumph. 1.-The pit rose at men he cried.
"Mary, you shall ride in your carriage
yet" /" CF'rles," lifting the child from
his bed, "shal- go to Eton." Then his
voice falterei, and he murmured, "If
Howard had but lived to see it," The
Merchant of Venice" was played several
nights in succession, and the receipts rose
from Gl00 to 9600
His next part was Richard-the second
part is always the touchstone of an actors
| buttCSSs ICI6 IC CDUclGu tuc lIStS Will
Cooke and Kemble, and memories of Gar
rick's splendid performances had not yet
died out among old play goers. In Shylock
his small stature mattered little, but in
Richard that disadvantage would be gar-
ingly perceptible; he approached the part
with fear and trembling. II am 50 fright
ened," 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 immeasurable distance
no such performance had been seen since
the days of Garrick. But the terrible ex-
citelnent 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 inconvenient modesty to ex-
haust their energies. On the day of the