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Updated: May 12, 2025
Malone, Warburton, Dyce, and Collier, have wasted their oil. The famed theaters, Covent Garden, Drury Lane, the Park, and Tremont, have vainly assisted. Betterton, Garrick, Kemble, Kean, and Macready, dedicate their lives to this genius; him they crown, elucidate, obey, and express. The genius knows them not.
"Cap is a-providing, sure enough," Sam Wetherby remarked. "They are both written to the pretty Helen Kemble that he used to make eyes at in the singing-school. I guess he thinks that you might stop a bullet as well as himself, Jim." "It's clear he thinks your chances for taking in lead are just as good," replied Jim. "But come, I'm one of them fellows that's never hit till I am hit.
Among the inhabitants and lodgers have been Shelley and Hazlitt, J. P. Kemble, Speaker Onslow, Pugin the elder, Charles Mathews the elder, and, in later years, Sir E. Burne-Jones. At the west end Great Russell Street runs into Tottenham Court Road, a portion of which lies in the parish of St. Giles.
Kemble; I'll do better another time." And so indeed he did; for he wrote a charming play on the old pathetic story of "Griselda," in which that graceful actress Miss Jarman played his heroine, and my father the hero, and which had an entire and well-deserved success.
Betterton, Garrick, Kemble, Kean, and Macready dedicate their lives to this genius; him they crown, elucidate, obey, and express. The genius knows them not. The recitation begins; one golden word leaps out immortal from all this painted pedantry and sweetly torments us with invitations to its own inaccessible homes.
The dimness and dulness of the passing world require relief, and I look for it in the world of recollections. Kemble was, at that time, in the prime of his powers; his features strongly resembling those of Siddons; and his form the perfection of manly grace and heroic beauty.
Neither can we forget the beautiful Valedictory Stanzas to John Kemble, at the farewell dinner to that illustrious actor. Another piece, the Last Man, is indeed fine and worthy of Byron. Of Campbell's attachment to his native country we have already spoken, but as a finely-wrought specimen of this amiable passion we subjoin a brief poem: Mr.
With an affectation of briskness he was far from feeling, Mr. Kemble came down the stairs and joined his daughter in the hall. He had taken pains to draw his hat well over his eyes, anticipating and dreading her keen scrutiny, but, strange to say, his troubled demeanor passed unnoticed. In the interval of waiting Helen's thoughts had taken a new turn.
Keebil and Snow Horton ever see any of them, Harry?" "No; you see it is nearly two years since " "I have a little daughter almost five years old!" "Gramaw followed up in the papers when you were married. Flora Kemble and Roy, they're both married, too." "Harry, didn't you ever hear anything about well, about my marriage?" "Yes, there was something about it. I forget. You live in New York?"
Kemble and her daughter exchanged an apprehensive glance and followed with the air of being prepared for the worst. The banker sat down and wiped the perspiration from his brow, then looked dubiously at the deeply anxious faces turned toward him. "Well," he said, "I'm going to tell you everything as far as I understand it.
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