His hair is dark, his features are strongly marked, and he has a physiognomy truly tragic. He understands, and speaks with accuracy, the French language. In company he appears thoughtful and reserved. His manners, however, are very distinguished; and he has in his looks, when addressed, an expression of courtesy, that affords us the best idea of his education. Mr. Kemble is well informed, and has the reputation of being a good grammarian. The Comedie Française has received him with all the respect due to the Le Kaim of England; they have already given him a splendid dinner, and mean to invite him to a still more brilliant souper. Talma, to whom he had letters of recommendation, does the honours of Paris; they visit together our finest works, and appear to be already united by the most friendly ties."

In 1803, Mr. Kemble returned to England, and having purchased a sixth share of the property in Covent Garden theatre, for which he gave five-and-twenty thousand pounds, he became the manager, in the room of Mr. Lewis, who resigned; and appeared for the first time on those boards, in the character of Hamlet, on the 24th of September. It is unnecessary to say, that he was rapturously received. During the next five years, he revived several of Shakspeare's plays, and made Covent Garden classic ground; when, unhappily, on the 20th of Sept. 1808, the destructive fire took place, which in less than three hours consumed the whole interior of the building, involving the proprietors in utter ruin. By this deplorable catastrophe, in addition to the injury to property, humanity had to lament the loss of more than twenty lives, from the falling in of the building near the piazza door.

On this occasion, the late Duke of Northumberland indulged in an act of liberality and kindness, perhaps as unprecedented as it was honourable. The circumstances redound equally to Mr. Kemble's good feeling and to his Grace's excellence of heart. So long back as when at the York theatre, Mr. Kemble was in need of a few soldiers to enrich certain processions, and he therefore applied to an officer of a regiment stationed in that city, for permission to engage some of

the men. The officer rudely refused, observing, that his men had better things to learn than the duties of a theatre. Mr. Kemble, repulsed, but not vanquished, renewed his application to the then Earl Percy, who had higher authority; and his lordship immediately granted the permission required, and indeed directed that the men should assist Mr. Kemble in any way in which he could render them serviceable. Several years passed, the York days were over, and Mr. Kemble had become the proud favourite of London, when, one morning, Dr. Raine, the head master of the Charter House, called upon him, and stated, that he was commissioned to request, on the behalf of a nobleman, Mr. Kemble's assistance in the education of his son. Mr. Kemble replied, that he was compelled, from want of leisure, and on other accounts, to decline all such occupation; and therefore, that much as he regretted it, he was under the necessity of refusing the application of his friend. Dr. Raine observed, as he was leaving the room, that he lamented the refusal, as the Duke of Northumberland would be greatly disappointed. On hearing the name of the nobleman, Mr. Kemble desired the Doctor to stay, and immediately said, "The Duke has a right to command me." Accordingly, he attended the present Duke for some time, giving him lessons on elocution. But no satisfactory return for his superintendance was made, or even seemed to be contemplated by the noble family. Time went on. The day of kindness came. On the very morning upon which the theatre was burnt down, his Grace wrote to Mr. Kemble, and proffered him the loan of 10,000l. upon his personal security, if it would be a convenience to him. It was a convenience: Mr. Kemble accepted the offer with readiness and gratitude, and paid the interest, as the quarters became due, to the steward. On the day, however, upon which the first stone of the new Covent Garden theatre was laid, the Duke wrote again to Mr. Kemble, and, observing in his letter, that he had no doubt that day was one of the proudest of Mr. Kemble's life, and that his Grace was anxious to make it one of the happiest, inclosed the cancelled bond! Did the name of Percy ever

adorn a more princely deed? One grand, unaffected, quiet act of this nature speaks more for a man than a thousand subscriptions to public charities; the object of which is too frequently a mere display of generosity. At a subsequent period his Grace delicately and finely remarked that Mr. Kemble had taught him how to return an act of kindness. In the dedication to an essay on Macbeth and Richard, published in 1817, Mr. Kemble thus alludes to the Duke of Northumberland's conduct:

"To the Duke of Northumberland.

"MY LORD DUKE, Be pleased to accept this tribute of my gratitude that it is the constant character of your Grace's nature, to conceal the benefits it confers, I well know; and I am fearful lest this offering should offend, where I most anxiously wish it to be received with favour; yet, when a whole happy tenantry are voting public monuments, to perpetuate the remembrance of your Grace's paternal benevolence to them, I hope, my Lord, that I am not any longer forbidden openly to acknowledge my own great obligations to your munificence.

"Your Grace has thought me worthy of your bountiful patronage; and I may not presume to say how little I deserve it. I have, &c.

"JOHN PHILIP KEMBLE."

The foundation-stone of the new theatre was laid by his present Majesty, then Prince of Wales, in person, as Grand Master of the Freemasons of Great Britain, attended by the Grand Lodge in form. Mr. Smirke jun. Mr. Smirke jun. was the architect, and Mr. Copeland the builder. Under their superintendance the present theatre rose like magic on the ruins of the old; being entirely completed in the short space of nine months. It was opened on the 18th of September 1809, with Macbeth. In order, in some degree, to repair the enormous loss which the proprietors had sustained from their recent cala

mity, and from the existing high price of building materials, they augmented the number of private boxes, and increased the prices of admission; to the pit, from three shillings and sixpence to four shillings; to the boxes, from six to seven shillings. The consequence was the celebrated O. P. riot; so named from the initials of the words " Old Prices." For sixty nights the British public danced rigadoons on the benches of the pit, and behaved with all the well-known turbulence of John Bull when he is incensed, Not a word ' could be heard from the rise to the fall of the curtain. Every hat was lettered with O. P. Every banner was inscribed with O. P. The dance was O. P. The cry was still O. P. Each managerial heart beat to the truth of Sir Vicary Gibbs' Latin pleasantry, "effodiuntur OPES irritamenta malorum." Mr. Kemble appealed to the audience from the stage, in vain. Mr. Charles Kemble was hooted for being a brother of Kemble. Mrs. Charles Kemble was yelled at, nay, pelted with oranges, for being the wife of the brother of Kemble. Even Mrs. Siddons's awful majesty was not a counterpoise to her being of the Kemble blood. At length, however, a compromise was effected; the private boxes were reduced to their number in 1802; the price of admission to the pit was restored to three shillings and sixpence; and the proprietors were allowed the benefit of the advance of a shilling on every admission to the boxes.

Towards the end of the season 1811-12, Mr. Kemble quitted the London stage for the purpose of making a professional tour in the country. On the 11th of Jan. 1814, being re-engaged for a term of three years, he appeared at Covent Garden theatre in the character of Coriolanus, and was greeted with enthusiastic applause; a laurel crown was thrown upon the stage; and the whole audience rose simultaneously to welcome him. Here Mr. Kemble continued till the termination of his splendid career; performing, however, at intervals, in several of the provincial theatres. His last appearance in Edinburgh took place on Saturday the 29th of March, 1817,

in the part of Macbeth; on which occasion he delivered the following address, written by his friend, Sir Walter Scott:

"As the worn war-horse, at the trumpet's sound
Erects his mane, and neighs, and paws the ground;
Disdains the ease his generous lord assigns,
And longs to rush on the embattled lines;
So I, your plaudits ringing on mine ear,
Can scarce sustain to think our parting near;
To think my scenic hour for ever past,
And that those valued plaudits, are my last.

"But years steal on; and higher duties crave Some space between the theatre and grave; That, like the Roman in the capitol,

I may adjust my mantle ere I fall ;

My life's brief act in public service flown,
The last, the closing scene, must be my own.

"Here then, adieu! while yet some well-graced parts
May fix an ancient favourite in your hearts,
Not quite to be forgotten, even when
You look on better actors, younger men:
And if your bosoms own this kindly debt
Of old remembrance, how shall mine forget?
O! how forget how oft I hither came

In anxious hope, how oft returned with fame!
How oft around your circle, this weak hand
Has waved immortal Skakspeare's magic wand,
Till the full burst of inspiration came,

And I have felt, and you have fann'd the flame !

By mem❜ry treasured, while her reign endures,
These hours must live and all their claims are yours.

"O favoured land! renowned for arts and arms,
For manly talent, and for female charms,
Could this full bosom prompt the sinking line,
What fervent benedictions now were thine!
But my last part is played, my knell is rung,
When e'en your praise falls faltering from my tongue;
And all that you can hear, or I can tell,

Is Friends and Patrons, hail, and FARE YOU WELL!"