Volume 1 — BIOGRAPHY.

ACCOUNT OF LE KAIN.

The celebrated French Actor.

Henry Louis Le Kain, born at Paris in 1729, of parents employed in the trade of a goldsmith, was himself designed for that business, after having received a careful education. He excelled, from his earliest youth, in the manufacture of chirurgical instruments, and was already known as a skilful artist in that way, when his inclination for the stage caused him to neglect his profession, in order to declaim tragedy. He sought for an opportunity of playing in public: he had the good fortune to be introduced to M. de Voltaire, who had at that time, in the street of Traversiere, a small theatre, where this great man loved to make a trial of the pieces he had newly composed. The celebrated tragic poet soon discovered in Le Kain the actor who seemed formed to feel and express the sublime beauties of his performances. He gave him frequent lessons; he made him give up every pursuit except that of the theatre, and lodged him in his own house. Le Kain played successively the parts of Leide and Mahomet; and astonished and delighted his master by his forcible manner of playing. He transported him by pronouncing these words in the fifth act of Mahomet—"Il est donc des remords!"—Voltaire could not contain his admiration, and the actor has acknowledged that he never felt a more lively and profound sensation than he did at that moment. To be brief he made his appearance on the French stage, in the part of Titus, in the tragedy of Brutus, and that of Leide, in Mahomet.

Nature had given to Le Kain a disadvantageous countenance, a thick and rough voice, a short figure, and, indeed, appeared to oppose almost insurmountable obstacles to his success: but art developed the feelings concentered on his heart, animated his whole person, suggested to him the most graceful attitudes, strengthened his voice, and impressed in every motion of his body the grand character of passion. Indeed, in the parts of Orosmanes, Tancred, Mahomet, Gengiskan, Bayard, &c. he appeared superior even to nature, and every object was eclipsed around him. He fixed the attention and interest of every spectator. Nevertheless, Le Kain had not only to conquer nature, but also the efforts of envy, the intrigues of the green-room, and of the fashionable world, and the precipitate opinions of bad judges. The parterre alone constantly admired and applauded him. His debût continued seventeen months, and every body anticipated his disgrace, when he was appointed to play before the court the part of Orosmanes. Even Louis XV, had been prejudiced against him. But that king, who possessed judgment, intelligence, and a natural taste that nothing could pervert, appeared astonished that any person should have formed so ill an opinion of the new actor, and said—"Il m'a fait pleurer, mot qui ne pleure guere."—He has drawn tears from me, 'albeit unused to the melting mood.' This expression was sufficient. He could not do otherwise than admit him into his company. The French theatre possessed at that time, in tragedy, Dumesnil, Gaussin, Clairon, Sarrasin, Lanoue, &c. and this combination of eminent talents gave to the stage a degree of perfection and eclat, which will hardly ever be seen again. It served to form the style of Le Kain, and to unite in this actor all the perfections of which he was then a witness, and of which he afterwards became the preserver and the model. It is well known that Le Kain and Mad. Clairon cast off the ridiculous dresses of the old actors, and consulted the costume of their characters, and that they were the first who established it on the French stage. Le Kain himself designed dresses suitable to his parts: he spared nothing to render them as brilliant as he judged necessary, at a time when these decorations were very indifferent. He paid equal attention to all the minutiæ of the performance. He made himself master of the scene, and at one view commanded every surrounding object. He was well versed in history, letters, and every species of knowledge connected with his art. He was passionately fond of poetry, and nobody knew how to recite verses better than himself. Le Kain carried into company much of simplicity, a deal of information independent of his professional knowledge, good sense, wit, and sometimes gayety, although his character, in general, was inclined to melancholy, in consequence of being so constantly employed in conceiving and expressing the higher passions. It were vain to attempt to analyse his talents;—they who have seen him play can alone form any just idea of them. He was not an actor; he was the very person he represented. He finished his theatrical career with the part of Vendôme, in Adelaide Duguesclin, eight days before his death. Just before he went on the stage, he said, he felt an ardor that he had never felt before, and that he hoped to play his character very well. In fact, he appeared to surpass himself; he astonished and charmed the whole audience, and he could not refrain from an indulgence upon this occasion which he seldom allowed himself. He appeared to give out the play, and received the loudest applause from all parts of the theatre, which was continued long after he had quitted the stage.

This fine actor, it is said, from an imprudent exposure of his health, was seized with an inflammatory fever, which in four days brought him to his grave. He met the approaches of death without alarm, and surrounded by his friends, resigned himself cheerfully to his fate. He died on the 8th of February, 1778.

The manner in which Le Kain made his way to distinction, on the French stage, is very remarkable, and it proves that a performer may sometimes be a better judge of his own abilities than the manager; but how few actors are there that possess the talents of Le Kain, and how numerous are those who think themselves equal to the most arduous and conspicuous characters in the drama.

When Le Kain first appeared on the French stage, Grandval played the principal tragic characters. He did not perceive the talent of Le Kain; he saw only the natural defects of this sublime actor, and knew not how to appreciate the sensibility and intelligence which so amply atoned for them.

Le Kain, nevertheless, vegetated, for more than sixteen months in the rank of a pensioner. At length, disgusted with his situation, the impetuous Le Kain went in search of the haughty Grandval, and, without being intimidated at the uncivil reception he met with, said to him—"I come, sir, to request that you will let me play Orosmanes before the king." "You, Sir," said Grandval; "Orosmanes! before the court!—Surely you are not serious—do you mean to ruin yourself at once?"—"I have weighed every thing, Sir," replied the young tragedian; "I know the risk I run. It is time in short, that my fate were decided."—"Very well, Sir," said Grandval, "I consent to your playing the part; but if the result should turn out contrary to your wishes, remember that it is entirely your own act." Le Kain withdrew, and hastened to study, with the attention due to the important task he had undertaken, the character he was about to perform.

The day arrived—the new actor appeared on the stage. His figure and height excited at first some surprise, and even the women, accustomed to the grace and handsome person of Grandval, suffered a slight murmur, of disappointment to escape them. Le Kain had forseen this; he was not astonished at it; but the little vexation he felt at it gave him additional energy, and the success he experienced in the first act prepared the way only to his triumph in those which succeeded. In proportion as the interest of the scene advanced, his soul expanded itself over and beamed through his features; and soon the eyes of every spectator, dimmed with the tears that overflowed them, could no longer distinguish whether the actor was beautiful or ugly, and he left nothing upon the minds of the audience but the most powerful impression of the feelings which had animated him through his whole performance.

After the representation, the first gentleman of the chamber asked his majesty what he thought of him. The king made the reply which we have quoted above.

This reception, so novel in its nature, astonished his brother performers; but they were obliged to yield to his superiority, and Grandval, who acknowledged his error, no longer delayed to put Le Kain in possession of the first characters in tragedy.

Le Kain published shortly after his success, the following particulars of his first connexion with M. de Voltaire, to which he prefixed this expressive motto from the play of Oedipus.

"May I not be permitted to boast of a title which at once fixed my condition, my fortune, and the happiness of my life? The brief account I am about to give, will justify the motto I have chosen, which may, at the first view, have the appearance of too much vanity.

"The peace of 1748 reviving amusements of every kind in the city of Paris, gave birth at the same time to the institution of several societies of citizens, who assembled together to enjoy the pleasure of acting plays.

"The first was established at the hotel de Soyecourt, St. Honoré; the second at the hotel de Clermont-Tonnerre, Marais; and the third at the hotel de Jabac, in the street of St. Mery. Of this last theatre I was the founder.

"Of all the young people who acquired celebrity upon these stages, and some of whom are settled in the provincial theatres, I am the only one who have obtained a situation in Paris; and for this favour I am indebted more to my good stars, than to my poor talents. The circumstances which led to it are these.

"The proprietor of the hotel de Jabac, being obliged to make some repairs on the inside of the hall which we occupied, laid us under the necessity of requesting permission from the comedians of Clermont-Tonnerre, to play alternately with them upon their stage. It was stipulated between us, in the month of July 1749, that we should pay a moiety of the expenses; and accordingly we made our debût there with Sidney and Georges Dandin.

"It may be easily conceived, that the competition of these two societies excited much difference of opinion in the public, the result of which could not be favourable to one company, without diminishing the credit with which the other had till then performed. Some divided in our favour, and some in favour of our rivals. 'These ladies,' observed one party, 'are prettier than the other.'—'Ah!' replied their neighbours, 'but then the latter have better knowledge of the stage, more grace and vivacity, &c. &c.'

"In this manner the public amused themselves, and selected their favourites either from Messrs. de Tonnerre, or Messrs. de Jabac. But who could imagine that a society of young people, who attended to decorum in the midst of their amusements, would have excited the jealousy and complaint of the great disciples of Melpomene.

"Through their interference we were obliged to shut up our theatre. A Jansenist priest, however, procured its re-establishment. M. l'Abbé Chauvelin of the parliament of Paris, condescended to interest himself for the pupils, in opposition to their masters, and got us to play Le Mauvais Riche, a five act comedy in verse, by M. d'Arnaud. The piece did not possess much merit in the opinion of the most brilliant assembly that was at that time to be met with in all Paris. This was in the month of February 1750.

"M. de Voltaire was invited by the author to attend the representation: and whether it was to gratify M. d'Arnaud, or through pure kindness to the actors, who exerted themselves to the utmost to give effect to a very feeble and uninteresting drama, that great man appeared tolerably satisfied, and anxiously inquired the name of the person who had performed the part of the lover. He received for answer, that he was the son of a goldsmith at Paris, who played at present for his amusement, but who had a serious intention of making the stage his profession. He expressed to M. d'Arnaud a desire to be acquainted with me, and begged that he would prevail upon me to go and see him the next day but one.

"The pleasure that this invitation afforded, was greater even than my surprise at receiving it. But I have never been able to describe what passed in my mind at the sight of this man, whose eyes sparkled with fire, genius, and imagination. When I spoke to him, I felt myself penetrated with respect, enthusiasm, admiration, and fear. I was almost overpowered by these several sensations, when M. de Voltaire had the goodness to put an end to my embarrassment, by opening his paternal arms, and thanking God for having created a being who had moved and affected him in the recitation of such wretched verses. He afterwards put several questions to me respecting my own condition, and that of my father; the manner in which I had been educated, and my future prospects in life. Having satisfied him in all these particulars, and taken my share of a dozen cups of chocolate mixed with coffee[E], I told him, boldly, that I knew no other happiness on earth than that of acting plays; that a severe and afflicting event having left me master of my actions, and enjoying a small patrimony of 750 livres a year, I had reason to hope, that by abandoning my father's business, I should lose nothing by the change, if I might hope one day to be admitted into the king's company of comedians.

"'Ah, my friend!' cried M. de Voltaire, 'never form this resolution. Be ruled by me; play comedy for your amusement, but never make it your profession. It is the finest, the most rare and difficult talent that can be; but it is disgraced by blockheads, and proscribed by hypocrites. At some future day France will esteem your art, but then there will be no more Barons, Lecouvreurs, nor Dangevilles. If you will renounce your project, I will lend you 10,000 francs to form your establishment, and you shall repay me when you can. Go, my friend, return to me towards the end of the week, reflect maturely upon my advice and proposal, and give me a positive answer.'

"Stunned, confused, and moved even to tears at the goodness and generosity of this great man, who had been called avaricious, severe and pitiless, I wished to pour forth my gratitude. I attempted to speak no less than four times, but was unable to articulate my thanks. I was about to retire, when he called me back, and requested that I would recite to him a few passages from the characters that I had already played.

"Scarcely knowing what I was about, I unfortunately proposed to declaim the great speech from Gustavus, in the second act—'No Piron! no Piron!' he cried out, in a thundering and terrific voice, 'I do not love bad verse; let me have all you know from Racine.'

"I luckily recollected, that when I was at the College Mazarin, I had learnt the entire tragedy of Athaliah, from having heard it often repeated by the scholars who were about to play it.

"I began, therefore, the first scene, speaking alternately the parts of Abner and Joad; but I had hardly finished, before M. de Voltaire exclaimed, with the highest enthusiasm—'Ah! my God! what exquisite verses! and how very astonishing it is that the whole play should be written with the same spirit, and the same purity, from the first scene to the last. The poetry is inimitable. Adieu, my child!' he continued, embracing me, 'I predict that you will possess a most heart-rending voice [la voice dechirante]; that you will one day be the delight of all Paris; but for God's sake never appear upon any public stage.'

"This is a faithful account of my first interview with M. de Voltaire: the second was more determinative, since he consented, after the most earnest solicitations on my part, to receive me as his pensioner, and to cause a small theatre to be erected near his dwelling, where he had the kindness to let me play in company with his nieces, and the whole society to which I belonged. He expressed great dissatisfaction at learning that it had hitherto cost us a good deal of money to afford the public and our friends amusement.

"The expense to which this establishment put M. de Voltaire, and the disinterested offer that he had made me a few days before, proved to me, in the strongest manner, that his conduct was as generous and noble as his enemies were unjust, in attributing to him the vice of avarice.

"These are facts of which I have been the witness. I owe yet another acknowledgment to truth. M. de Voltaire not only assisted me with his advice, for more than six months that I lived with him, but he also defrayed all my expenses during the same period; and since my admission into the theatre, I can prove that I have received from his liberality more than 2000 crowns. He calls me at this moment his great actor, his Garrick, his dear son. These are titles that I owe entirely to his kindness. I only presume to call myself his respectful pupil, who feels every sentiment of gratitude for his disinterested acts of friendship.

"Ought I not so to feel, when it is to M. de Voltaire alone that I am indebted for my first knowledge of the art I profess, and from respect to him, that M. the Duc d'Aumont, granted the order for my debût in the month of February, 1750?

"By constant perseverance upon every occasion I have now, in the month of February, 1752, after a debût of seventeen months, surmounted all the obstacles raised against me both by the city and the court, and procured myself to be inserted on the list of King's comedians."

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