umphs of well-feigned passion, the beauty of breathed poetry. On the other side all is dark. Life's candles are burnt out —aye, and in one night. We see the by-gone actor, bent down from his pride of place, creeping about in his impoverished state feeble, dejected, commonly attired, solitary, lost. The past remains to him a pang-like dream. Stripped at once of all his greatness, he wanders about like one walking in his sleep- seeing others usurp his throne in the public heart, or, not daring to abide the misery of such a usurpation, straying solitarily to some distant spot - some foreign shore- there to hear no storm of applause, no deaf-. ening shouts of a multitude, but to see quiet sunsets, hear the evening wind die along the waters, and watch the 'untumultuous fringe of silver foam,' woven momently and monotonously at his feet. He is Lear turned out by his pelican children from pomp to poverty. We will answer for it, that John Kemble did not, as some one has said, quaff health in the south of France - not health of the heart-which is the only health worth possessing and cherishing; that he did not find the air that blew over the vine-covered hills of France wholesomer than that of a crowded house; nor the lengthened murmurs of the Mediterranean shores more soothing to the soul than the deep thunders of the pit. He was a grand, meditative, melancholy mạn; and as the airs and waters of evening toned him down to dreaming thought, he was the one, if ever such one were, to escape into a bright vision of the past-fleet on swift thoughts from the land of France, and be (in the words of his own Penruddock) once again." in London And to London, in earnest, some necessary arrangements relative to his private affairs for a time recalled Mr. Kemble. As it was exceedingly desirable that his numerous and valuable collection of plays should be kept together, his Grace the Duke of Devonshire agreed to take them; originally, on condition of allowing Mr. Kemble an annuity for his life; out, finally, that plan was abandoned, and a sum of money was at once paid down. To this collection was added one of play bills, the most curious and complete ever made, with the sole exception of that of Dr. Burney's, now deposited in the British Museum. Mr. Kemble's general library was disposed of by auction. Many of the books, especially those which contained his autograph, were sold at very large prices. During his stay in England, Mr. Kemble assigned the whole of his property in Covent-Garden Theatre over to Mr. Charles Kemble. On his return to the Continent, Mr. Kemble determined to take up his abode at Lausanne. His house, called Beausite, was, as the name denotes, beautifully and romantically situated. Here, his chief occupations were his books and his garden. In the latter he took great delight. He resorted to it with the first rays of the sun, and kept it in a state of cultivation that could not be surpassed. It is not surprising that the classical taste of Mr. Kemble should induce him to wish to visit Italy. In an unfortunate moment, he resolved to gratify that inclination. Three months before his decease, and at a very inauspicious season, he went to Rome. Instantly becoming ill, his physician, Dr. Clarke, peremptorily ordered him to return to Lausanne forthwith. It was with difficulty he travelled thither; and although the renewal of his domestic comforts seemed to revive him, he never really overcame the influence of the malaria of Rome. It was believed by his friends, however, -for how easily do we believe what we earnestly wish! that he was fast recovering from the effects of his visit to Italy. On Wednesday the 19th of February, Mr. Kemble dined at the house of an acquaintance in the neighbourhood, and was observed to be in extremely good spirits; a few friends drank tea with him on the following evening; when he played his rubber (to which he was very partial), and appeared in excellent health. On the Sunday after this day, Mr. Kemble walked for two hours in the sunshine of his garden, and no sign of illness was remarked. He arose on Monday morning as well as usual, and conversed with Mrs. Kemble on indifferent mat ters; when, according to his usual custom, he read a chapter' in his Bible. He again joined Mrs. Kemble in the breakfastroom, and said to her, "Don't be alarmed, my dear, I have had a slight attack of apoplexy." Mrs. Kemble was naturally very much terrified, and assisted him to his chair, and when seated, he took up a number of Galignani's Messenger; but becoming worse, his friend and physician, Dr. Schole, was sent for, who arrived in a short time, and found him in the position already described, but altered, and exhibiting very unfavourable symptoms. His left side had suffered a decided attack, and he could with difficulty articulate; but seemed extremely anxious to spare the feelings of Mrs. Kemble. Dr. Schole, with the assistance of his old attached servant George, helped him to his bed, and, in the act of conducting him thither, a second attack took place, so suddenly, that his clothes were obliged to be cut asunder, in order that he might the more speedily be let blood. But nature was fast exhausting; and one attack succeeded another so rapidly, that Mr. Kemble never spoke afterwards, though he seemed perfectly sensible at intervals. Until nine o'clock on Wednesday morning, the 26th of February, 1823, he lingered in this speechless state, when he expired without any apparent suffering. Thus died this amiable and intellectual man, full of years and honour, in a distant land. The funeral took place on Saturday the 1st of March, in a piece of ground adjoining the cemeterie, on the Berne road, procured under the direction of Mrs. Kemble. Mr. Capel and several English are there interred. The Dean of Raphoe, who had lately returned to Lausanne, read the funeral service at the house of Mr. Kemble; and Mr. Cheesebrough, the resident clergyman, who had read prayers to Mr. Kemble when he could attend to them, and was with him when he died, performed the melancholy ceremony at the grave. The age of sixty-six was recorded on the coffin. The death of Mr. Kemble was sincerely felt by all persons at Lausanne, and his remains were followed to the grave by all the resident English, and by many of the Swiss. The English, indeed, had no parties during the week; and one foreign lady of fashion put off a splendid assembly on account of Mr. Kemble's decease. The following is a copy of a letter from the English clergyman resident at Lausanne to a professional gentleman in London, which is interesting, inasmuch as it is in itself very amiable, and as it shows the serenity and virtue of Mr. Kemble's domestic life, and confirms the religious peace of his death: "Sir, Lausanne, Feb. 26. 1823. "It is with deep regret that I announce to you an afflicting and sudden event, the decease of Mr. Kemble, who breathed his last at a quarter past nine o'clock this morning. He had been seized with an apoplectic attack about forty-eight hours before his death; and though it was not of any very alarming nature at first, yet it was no less fatal, and he gradually declined, till, without a single sigh or groan, his soul, released from its earthly tenement, returned to Him who gave it. 66 During a week or more prior to this attack, his health seemed more satisfactory than for months before, so that poor Mrs. Kemble was very ill provided for so unexpected a blow, and consequently has been in such a distressed state as I cannot pretend to describe. She is, indeed, much indisposed at present, from the effects of a violent nervous attack, which seized her when all our fears of her husband were confirmed; but in a little time I have no doubt but a sense of her religious duties, in addition to her excellent understanding, will conduce to her amendment and resignation. To you, Sir, no comments on this excellent man's character here are necessary. I will only say, that he was universally beloved by both his countrymen and natives, and that I am deprived of, in my little flock, a most pious and worthy member - but God's will be done! We are naturally grieved at the loss of what was ever amiable, excellent, and of good report, as a standing example to all around; but how great, on reflection, should be our joy, that the feeble praise of man is succeeded by the immortal honour and approving smile of the best and greatest of all beings? I was with him during the greater part of his last hours, and at the final close; and on commending his soul to his gracious keeping, whose blood and mediatorial power could alone present it spotless before God, I could not avoid secretly exclaiming, 'Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my latter end be like his.' "It is by Mrs. Kemble's desire that I write to you, who, with her kindest regards, begs you will take upon you, as early as possible, the painful task of communicating it to Miss Siddons, and gradually to prepare Mrs. Siddons for such an afflicting stroke, in order that she may not first learn it from any other quarter. Mrs. Kemble's poignancy is increased, on considering what will be the agonizing feelings of Mrs. Siddons, but calculates much on your kind attention herein. I have written to Mr. Charles Kemble by this post. I beg my respectful compliments to Mrs. Siddons; and having now hastily fulfilled my truly painful duty, "I have the honour to remain, &c. &c." Some public testimony of respect to this great actor has been very properly talked of; and indeed the Earl of Aberdeen, Lord Holland, Sir James Mackintosh, and a few other eminent characters, have taken steps for effecting such an object. The following we believe to be an accurate list of Mr. Kemble's literary productions; original, translated, altered, and adapted to the modern stage: ORIGINAL. FUGITIVE PIECES, a small volume of poems, 1780. BELISARIUS, — a Tragedy, acted at York, 1778; never printed. - FEMALE OFFIcer, a Farce, acted at York, 1779; afterwards called "Female Projects," and performed at Drury Lane, 1786; never printed. |