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Updated: June 12, 2025
Kemble, in Hamlet, with that ever memorable skull in his hand, was one of the pieces which we viewed with no little interest. It is strange that Hamlet is always represented as a thin, lean man, when the Hamlet of Shakspere was a fat, John Bull-kind of a man.
While we were living in Gerard Street, my uncle Kemble came for a short time to London from Lausanne, where he had fixed his residence compelled to live abroad, under penalty of seeing the private fortune he had realized by a long life of hard professional labor swept into the ruin which had fallen upon Covent Garden Theatre, of which he was part proprietor.
The hotel waitress who had brought up her tea on a tray, had gone down with a report that Miss Kent was "stunning;" and two or three housemaids and a number of little boys were vibrating and loitering about the hall and doorway below, watching for her to come down to her carriage. It was just as good, so far as these things went, as if she had been Mrs. Kemble, or Christine Nilsson, or anybody.
"Blessings on Lord Titchfield" invokes Fanny Kemble, in a letter dated from Liverpool, May 4th, 1843: "I wrote to you last thing last night, dearest Hal, and now farewell! I have received a better account of my father. Dear love to Dorothy, and my last dear love to you. I shall write and send no more loves to anyone.
I have seen a letter of his in which he highly extols him, considering his style to be the purest acting since the retirement of John Kemble. In the autumn of 1824, there was a great row at the Theatre Royal, which was excited in favour of Miss Cramer, a most popular and able vocalist.
The opera of "Oberon" was written for Kemble, of the Covent Garden theatre, in London, and was produced by Weber under circumstances of failing health and great mental depression. The composer pressed every energy to the utmost to meet his engagement, and it was feared by his friends that he would not live to see it put on the stage.
Our representative of all the Juliets and Julias had a pretty voice; the Kemble of the company, a fine, tall, good-tempered fellow, sang duets and trios well enough for a tragedian; a chorus was easily mustered out of the remaining members of the corps who continued fit for duty; and we roused old Ocean with "When the wind blows," until he became too obstreperous in his emulation, and fairly drowned our melody.
"Well, I might as well out with it. Suppose Captain Nichol was not killed after all?" Helen sank into a chair as if struck down as Nichol had been himself. "What!" she whispered; and her face was white indeed. Mrs. Kemble rushed to her husband, demanding, "Do you mean to tell us that Captain Nichol is alive?" "Yes; that's just the question we've got to face."
Some have attempted to make a distinction, alleging that there are Franceses who can be called "Fanny" and others who can not. But it is doubtful whether this holds. Of two great proficients of "letter-stuff" in overlapping generations Fanny Burney was eminently a "Fanny." Fanny Kemble, though always called so, was not. She was the niece of Mrs.
A noble cosmopolitanism is the brightest jewel in a man's crown. I have heard very little music in Italy never so little in a winter. In Rome the opera was nothing, and there were only two or three concerts. But the great gem of music was the singer Adelaide Kemble. You know she has left the stage and the public, but this was an amateur concert for the Irish.
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