CLAREMONT AND JOHN KEMBLE.

WHO ever heard of Claremont-" Clary" (and not to have known him, playgoers, would argue yourselves unknown)—whoever heard of him, without at the same time hearing of his Narcissus-like devotion to unmatched perfection; for, like Narcissus,

"None but himself could be his parallel ;"

-and eke, his convinced mind, that no earthly woman could look upon him without admiration, or man without envy! Hail to thee, Claremont, of

happy memory! renowned " emperor of the Cockonians!" (before the immortal amateur, Coates, strutted and crowed his hour upon the stage) and, time out of mind, the stock-nonentity of Covent Garden Theatre! Clary! where have we seen thy fellow? Who is like unto thee, thou most inoffensive and amiable of coxcombs? Who ever adjusted his own neckcloth, either on or off the stage, with so perfect a conviction that it was not "a failure ?" Who ever glanced at his own curves in the greenroom glass of fashion with so positive a consciousness that it reflected the "mould of form ;" and, above all, whoever heard of his disgracing himself or his calling by an ungentlemanlike or unworthy action; or, in truth, doing any thing in this wicked

world worse than the Marquis Almanza, in the Child of Nature, a misdemeanor for which he was condemned by the simultaneous voices of his judges upon the spot, on the night of the first appearance of the present Countess of Harrington (then Miss Foote)?—A great injustice to the play-going public; for no after-representative of that mature lover ever gave so much genuine entertainment to his audience. But to resume.

Who, we boldly demand, ever witnessed Claremont's Guildenstern without feeling satisfied that he ought to have performed Hamlet? or seen him in the noble County Paris, without perceiving in every look, tone, and gesture, that there stood, walked, and talked, the natural representative of Romeo? It was next to impossible to look at Claremont at such times without catching from his general bearing (notwithstanding his admirable self-complacency) the tacit assertion, that he was an ill-used gentleman. Indeed, the managers had much to answer for to the public in general, when they overlooked such self-evident merit. It may be said, that Claremont always stood in the drama's ranks in the position that the unlucky Irishman was said to stand, in relation to his inherited estate. which he averred was kept from him by its right owner! On similar grounds it was manifest to every nice observer, that Claremont would have had a born right to play Coriolanus, if he had not been thrust out of the part by John Kemble. Who,

once more we ask, ever saw Clary" sent on as a substitute for some more fortunate actor, without imbibing from his manner the conviction that he, Claremont, was the actor, par excellence, of a part lawfully his property, were he not, as aforesaid, kept out of it by the "right owner?"

As an evidence that the foregoing judgment is correct, take the following fact :-

It is certain that Claremont's gentlemanlike manners and conduct recommended him to every body that knew him; and Mr. John Kemble, who was kind and affable even to the lowest person in the theatre, was particularly gracious to one who, though his little foibles might sometimes cause a smile, was universally respected. At the beginning of one season, on the first night of Mr. Kemble's appearance, Claremont addressed the great tragedian in respectful inquiry after his health, and was answered

"I'm very well, I thank you, Claremont; I hope you're well."

Claremont, with one of his ineffable smiles, assured Mr. Kemble that he also was well, "notwithstanding the great fatigue he had undergone during the summer."

"Ha! my good friend," asked glorious John, "what may you have been about, to occasion such fatigue ?"

"Why, Sir," answered Clary, with an additional shrug to his usually important air, "I have been

acting your line of character, Mr. Kemble; and with very great success, I assure you."

"Indeed!" said Kemble, dryly, at the same time taking a pinch of snuff, after something like a start, "that must have been fatiguing indeed, Claremont ! Pray, my good fellow, how did you do it ?"

Why, Sir?" responded Clary, nothing daunted by the half-sarcastic tone of the querist: "I began with Macbeth, which I played twice at

(Kemble here retreated a step or so, as if surprised.) "I say, Mr. Kemble, I played Macbeth

twice at

On this reiteration, Kemble's face relaxed into a good-humoured smile, and patting Clary upon the shoulder with an incredulous action, exclaimed

"What! twice in one town, Claremont ?"

This might be envy; certes, there is nothing to prove that Kemble ever resigned the character of Macbeth into Claremont's hands; while, to the last of the dramatic career of these contemporaries, the former obstinately retained the character of Hamlet, whilst Clary continued to perform that of Guildenstern, and with his usual success.

CHERRY.

MR. CHERRY, the Comedian, was a worthy and a clever man, yet, like many other clever and worthy men, irritable withal. He was, moreover, very smart at impromptu, and often witty.

During his early days, in one of the provinces, he was performing Autolycus, in the Winter's Tale, in which character he had to remark-with an expressive action of his finger upon his forehead

"The King is a very good man, but he wants it here!"

The unlettered part of the audience, who knew no distinction of date or place, but viewed the whole world as England, and knew nothing of time but time present, construed the above speech into rank treason, and the demi-gods, brim-full of British loyalty, hurled upon the devoted head of the actor their loudest thunder, precluding the continuation of the play, until the better portion of the auditors exerted their influence over "the poorer born," and succeeded in producing a temporary calm.

The offender, who was, like Grumio,

"A little pot, and soon hot,"

could not control his irritation, at the gross stupidity of those on high, and Cherry bounced for