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Updated: May 9, 2025
J.H. Chute's stock company in 1861, we had no experience of that kind, perhaps because there was no Kean alive to give it to us. And I don't think that our "worst" would have been so very bad. Mr. Chute, who had married Macready's half-sister, was a splendid manager, and he contrived to gather round him a company which was something more than "sound."
I dreamt of becoming a second Kean, of taking Macready's place. It need not interfere with my literary ambition. I could combine the two: fill Drury Lane in the evening, turn out epoch-making novels in the morning, write my own plays. Every day I studied in the reading-room of the British Museum.
The only record of any conference between Macready and Lamb is Macready's remark in his Diary that he met Lamb at Talfourd's, and Lamb said that he wished to draw his last breath through a pipe, and exhale it in a pun. But this was long after the present essay was written. Picture Gallery ... Mr. Matthews. See note below. Not Diamond's. Dimond was the proprietor of the old Bath Theatre. Mrs.
Never, perhaps, has that subtle boundary-line been hit with more admirable dexterity, just within the hair's breadth here indicated, than it was, for example, in Macready's impersonation of Virginius, where his scream in the camp-scene betrayed his instantaneous appreciation of the wrong meditated by Appius Claudius against the virginal purity of his daughter.
"To fathom the depths of character, to trace its latent motives, to feel its finest quiverings of emotion, to comprehend the thoughts that are hidden under words, and thus possess one's-self of the actual mind of the individual man" such was Macready's definition of the player's art; and to this we may add the testimony of Talma.
She was ready to talk about anything and everything the newly-wedded queen, and the fortunate Prince, whose existence among us had all the charm of novelty of Lord Melbourne's declining health and Sir Robert Peel's sliding scale mesmerism the Oxford Tracts the latest balloon ascent the opera Macready's last production at Drury lane Bulwer's new novel that clever little comic paper, just struggling into popularity what do you call the thing Punch? yes, Punch, or the London Charivari a much more respectable paper than its Parisian prototype.
Browning was in the stage-box; and if it is any satisfaction for a poet to hear a crowded house cry 'Author, author! that satisfaction has belonged to Mr. Browning. The play ran several nights; and was only stopped because one of Mr. Macready's bankruptcies happened just then to intervene. It was afterwards revived by Mr. Phelps, during his 'memorable management' of Sadlers' Wells.
Yet it is but the other day that we were reminded by the announcement of Macready's death of the long interval that had elapsed since the last of the English tragedians had dropped a sceptre which there was no one to take up; and now it is an actor of another race, speaking a different language, who presents himself to fill the vacant place, and to interpret for us anew creations which we study indeed more closely than ever in the printed page, but of which we had ceased to ask for any adequate palpable embodiment.
An introduction to Macready which took place at Mr Fox's house towards the close of November 1835 was fruitful in consequences. A month later Browning was Macready's guest at Elstree, the actor's resting-place in the country. His fellow-traveller, then unknown to him, in the coach from London was John Forster; in Macready's drawing-room the poet and his critic first formed a personal acquaintance.
As may be seen in Major Macready's narrative, the Duke, while the battle was raging, betrayed no sign of emotion at the most ghastly casualties; but, when all was over, the sight of the carnage with which the field was covered, and still more, the sickening spectacle of the agonies of the wounded men who lay moaning in their misery by thousands and tens of thousands, weighed heavily on the spirit of the victor, as he rode back across the scene of strife.
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