[Alas! my kind friend was no prophet. Not many months after, sitting by him at a dinner-party in New York, he said to me, "So I hear you are engaged to be married, and you are going to settle in this country. Well, you will be told that this country is like your own, and that living in it is like living in England: but do not believe it; it is no such thing, it is nothing of the sort; which need not prevent your being very happy here if you make the best of things as you find them. Above all, whatever you do, don't become a creaking door." "What's that?" asked I, laughing. He then told me that his friend Leslie, the painter, who was, I believe, like his contemporary and charming rival artist, Gilbert Stewart Newton, an American by birth, had married an Englishwoman, whom he had brought out to America, "but who," said Irving, "worried and tormented his and her own life out with ceaseless complaints and comparisons, and was such a nuisance that I used to call her 'the creaking door.'"]
Good-by, and God bless you, dearest H——.
I am affectionately yours, FANNY KEMBLE.
BOSTON, Sunday, April 21, 1833. DEAR MRS. JAMESON,
There lies in my desk, and has lain, I am ashamed to say, for a long time now, an unanswered letter of yours, which smites my conscience every time I open that useful receptacle (desk, not conscience), where it has, I am sorry to say, many companions in its own predicament. My time is like running water, and the quickest, but the rapids of Niagara, that ever ran, I think; and every hour, as it flies away, is filled with so much that must be done, letting alone so much that I would wish to do, that I am fairly out of breath, and feel as if I were flying myself in a whirling high wind, and if ever I stop for a moment, shan't be surprised to find that I have gone crazy. I think I should like to spend a few days entirely alone in a dark room, secluded from every sight and sound, for my senses are almost worn out, and my sense exhausted, with looking, hearing, feeling, going, doing, being, and suffering. Our work is incessant; we never remain a month in any one place, and we are scarce off our knees from putting things into drawers than we are down on them again to take them out and put them all back into trunks. My health has not suffered hitherto from this constant exertion, but I am occasionally oppressed with the dreadful unquietness of our life, and long for a few moments' rest of body and of mind.
This is our first visit to this place, and I am enchanted with it. As a town, it bears more resemblance to an English city than any we have yet seen; the houses are built more in our own fashion, and there is a beautiful walk called the Common, the features of which strongly resemble the view over the Green Park just by Constitution Hill. The people here take more kindly to us than they have done even elsewhere, and it is delightful to act to audiences who appear so pleasantly pleased with us....
Only think! a book was sent to me from Philadelphia the other day which proved to be the "Diary of an Ennuyee." I have no idea who it came from, or who made so good a guess at that old predilection of mine. I fell to forthwith—for that book has always had a most powerful charm for me—and read, and read on, though I have read it many a time through before, and though I had been acting Bianca, and my supper was on my plate before me.
I heard the other day mention of another work of yours, since the Shakespeare book. If you are not weary of writing to me, with such long intervals between your question and my reply, tell me something of this new work in your next letter.
Our plans for the summer are yet unsettled.... I was much disappointed on arriving here to find that Dr. Channing has left Boston for the South. His health is completely broken, and the bleak and bitter east wind that blows perpetually here is a formidable enemy to life, even in stronger frames than his....
The hotel in which we are lodging here is immediately opposite the box-office, and it is a matter of some agreeable edification to me to see the crowds gathering round the doors for hours before they open, and then rushing in, to the imminent peril of life and limb, pushing and pommeling and belaboring one another like madmen. Some of the lower class of purchasers, inspired by the thrifty desire for gain said to be a New England characteristic, sell these tickets, which they buy at the box-office price, at an enormous advance, and smear their clothes with treacle and sugar and other abominations, to secure, from the fear of their contact of all decently-clad competitors, freer access to the box-keeper. To prevent, if possible, these malpractices, and secure, to ourselves and the managers of the theater any such surplus profit as may be honestly come by, the proprietors have determined to put the boxes up to auction and sell the tickets to the highest bidders. It was rather barbarous of me, I think, upon reflection, to stand at the window while all this riot was going on, laughing at the fun; for not a wretch found his way in that did not come out rubbing his back or his elbow, or showing some grievous damage done to his garments. The opposite window of my room looks out upon a churchyard and a burial-ground; the reflections suggested by the contrast between the two prospects are not otherwise than edifying.... Good-by; God bless you!
I am ever yours, most truly, FANNY KEMBLE.
NEW YORK, Friday, May 24, 1833. MY DEAREST H——,
I received your last letter, dated the 22d March, a week ago, when I was in Boston, which we have left, after a stay of five weeks, to return here, where we arrived a few days ago....
Boston is one of the pleasantest towns imaginable. It is built upon three hills, which give it a singular, picturesque appearance, and I suppose suggested the name of Tremonte Street, and the Tremonte Hotel, which we inhabited. The houses are many of them of fine granite, and have an air of wealth and solidity unlike anything we have seen elsewhere in this country. Many of the streets are planted with trees, chiefly fine horse-chestnuts, which were in full leaf and blossom when we came away, and which harmonize beautifully with the gray color and solid handsome style of the houses. They have a fine piece of ground, like a park, in one part of the town, which, together with the houses round it, reminded me a good deal of the Green Park and the walk at the back of Arlington Street.
[The addition of the new part of Boston, stretching beyond the Common and the public Gardens, has added immensely to the beauty of the city, and the variety of the buildings and alternate views at the end of the vistas of the fine streets, looking toward Dorchester Heights, and those ending in the blue waters of the bay and Charles River, not unfrequently reminded me both of Florence and Venice, under a sky as rich, and more pellucid, than that of Italy.]
The country all round the neighborhood of Boston is charming. The rides I took in every direction were lovely, and during the last fortnight of our stay nothing could exceed the exquisite brightness of the spring weather. The apple trees were all in bloom, the lilacs in flower, and everything as sweet, fresh, and enchanting as possible.... How I wish you could have seen the glorious Hudson with me the other day, now that the woods on its banks are dark with the shade of their thick and varied foliage! How you would have rejoiced in the beautiful and noble river scenery! This is "a brave new world," more ways than one, and we are every way bound to like it, for our labor has been most amply rewarded in its most important result, money; and the universal kindness which has everywhere met us ever since we first came to this country ought to repay us even for the pain and sorrow of leaving England. We are to remain here about ten days longer, and then proceed to Philadelphia, where we shall stay a fortnight, and then we start for cool and Canada, taking the Hudson, Trenton Falls, and Niagara on our way; act in Montreal and Quebec for a short time, and then adjourn, I hope, to Newport in Rhode Island, to rest and recruit till we begin our autumnal work.... And now I have done grumbling at "the state of life into which it has pleased God to call me." My dear H——, I began this letter yesterday, and am this moment returned from a long visit to Dr. Channing.... The outward man of the eloquent preacher and teacher is rather insignificant, and produces no impression at first sight of unusual intellectual supremacy; and though his eyes and forehead are fine, they did not seem to me to do justice to the mind expressed in his writings; for though Shakespeare says,
"There is no art to read the mind's construction in the face,"
I think the mental qualities are more often detected there than the moral ones. He is short and slight in figure, and looks, as indeed he is, extremely delicate, an habitual invalid; his eyes, which are gray, are well and deeply set, and the brow and forehead fine, though not, perhaps, as striking as I had expected. The rest of the face has no peculiar character, and is rather plain.
He talked to me a great deal about the stage, acting, the dramatic art; and, professing to know nothing about it, maintained some theories which proved he did not, indeed, know much. As far as knowledge of the stage and acting goes, of course this was not surprising, his studies, observation, and experience certainly not having lain in that direction; indeed, if they had, he might not have shown more comprehension of the subject. Sir Thomas Lawrence is the only unprofessional person I ever heard speak upon it whose critical opinion and judgment seemed to me worth anything; but it appeared to me that, in the course of the discussion, some of Dr. Channing's opinions (with all respect be it spoken) betrayed an ignorance of human nature itself, upon which, after all, dramatic literature and dramatic representation are founded. He asked me if at the present day, and in our present state of civilization, such a character as Juliet could be imagined possible; so that I believe I was a little disappointed, in spite of his greatness, his goodness, and my reverence and admiration for him.
I went to call on him with a Miss Sedgwick, a person of considerable literary reputation here, and whose name and books you may perhaps have heard of. One of them, "Hope Leslie," is, I think, known in England. Though she is a good deal older than myself, I have formed a great friendship with her; she is excellent, as well as very clever and charming. She knows Dr. Channing intimately, and is a member of his church....
It is now Monday morning, dear H——, and I am presently going to set off to the races. American races! only think of that! I who never saw but one in my own country, and was totally uninterested by it! But I am going chiefly to please a nice little woman who is just married, and whose husband has several horses that are to run, so perhaps I shall find these more exciting than I did the races I attended at home. They are very little supported or resorted to here; the religious and respectable part of the community disapprove of them. There is a general prejudice against them, and they are even preached against; so that they are entirely in the hands of a few gentlemen of fortune, who keep them up, partly for their amusement, and partly with a view to the improvement of the breed of horses in this country. The running is said to be very good, the show is nothing.... However, I am going, and therefore you may look hereafter to hear—what you shall hear now—because I'm just come back, and am happy to inform you that my friend's husband's horse won the race. The stake was only L2000—no very great matter—but still enough to make the result interesting, if not important; though I think the hazard we ran of our lives at starting was the most exciting part of the day.
The racecourse is on Long Island, and, to reach it, one crosses the arm of the sea that divides that strip of land from New York in a steam ferryboat. All these transports were so thronged to-day with carriages, horses, and a self-governed, enlightened, and very free people, that in all my life I never saw anything so frightful as the confusion of the embarking and disembarking....
Dr. Channing was talking to me the other day of Harriet Martineau's writings, and has sent me "Ella of Garvelock," recommending it highly as an interesting story, though he does not seem to think Miss Martineau's principles of political economy sufficiently sound to make her works as useful upon that subject, or to do all the good which she herself evidently hopes to produce by these tales....
God bless you, dear friend! I am ever most truly yours,
F. A. K.
NEW YORK, Sunday, June 24, 1833.
Great was my surprise, dear Mrs. Jameson, to find accompanying your letter of April 9th a card of Mr. Jameson's. My father called upon him almost immediately, but had not the good fortune to find him at home, and I presume he is now gone on to Canada, whither we are ourselves proceeding, and where we may very possibly meet him. Our spring engagements are all over, and we are now going away from the hot weather to Niagara, into which, if all tales be true, I expect to fall headlong, with sheer surprise and admiration; after which I shall accompany my father to Montreal and Quebec, where we shall resume our professional labors....
I am very sorry you have been ill. You do not speak of your eyes, from which I argue that you were not painfully conscious of the existence of those valuable luminaries at the time you wrote....
The accounts, public and private, that we receive of the state of England are not encouraging, and the trouble seems such as neither Tory, Whig, nor even Radical, can cure. You talk of bringing out a colony to this country; bring out half of England, and those who starve at home will have to eat, and to spare, here. How I do wish our poor laboring people could be made to know how easily they might exchange their condition for a better one!
I wish you could have heard what my father was reading to us this morning out of Stewart's "North America;" not Utopian dreams of some imaginary land of plenty and fertility, but sober statements of authentic fact, telling of the existence of unnumbered leagues of the richest soil that ever rewarded human industry an hundredfold; wide tracts of lovely wilderness, covered with luxuriant pasture, and adorned profusely with the most beautiful wild flowers; great forests of giant timber, and endless rolling prairies of virgin earth, untouched by ax or plow; a world of unrivaled beauty and fertility, untenanted and empty, waiting to receive the over-brimming populations of the crowded lands of Europe, and to repay their labor with every species of abundance. It is strange how slow those old-world, weary, working folk have hitherto been to avail themselves of God's provision for them here.... You tell me you are working hard, but you do not say at what. Innumerable are the questions I have been asked about you, and a Philadelphian gentleman, a very intelligent and clever person, who is a large bookseller and publisher here, bade me tell you that you and your works were as much esteemed and delighted in in America as in your own country. He was so enthusiastic about you that I think he would willingly go over to England for the sole purpose of making your acquaintance.
[It is a pity that the American law on the subject of copyright should have rendered Mr. Carey's admiration of my friend and her works so barren of any useful result to her. Any tolerably just equivalent for the republication of her books in America would have added materially to the hardly earned gains of her laborious literary life.]
I am already half moulded into my new circumstances and surroundings; and though England will always be home to my heart, it may be that this country will become my abiding-place; but if you come out to Canada we shall meet on this side of the Atlantic instead of the other....
Believe me ever yours truly, F. A. K.
TO MISS FITZHUGH.
MONTREAL, July 24, 1833. MY DEAREST EMILY,
Within the last fortnight we have progressed, as we say in this country, over about nine hundred and fifty miles of land and water. We have gone up the Hudson, seen Trenton, the most beautiful, and Niagara, the most awful, of waterfalls. As for Niagara, words cannot describe it, nor can any imagination, I think, suggest even an approximate idea of its terrible loveliness. I feel half crazy whenever I think of it. I went three times under the sheet of water; once I had a guide as far as the entrance, and twice I went under entirely alone. If you fancy the sea pouring down from the moon, you still have no idea of this glorious huge heap of tumbling waters. It is worth crossing the Atlantic to see it.... As I stood upon the brink of the abyss when I first saw it, the impulse to jump down seemed all but an irresistible necessity, and but for the strong arm that held mine fast I think I might very well have taken the same direction as the huge green glassy mountain of water that was pouring itself headlong into—what no eye can penetrate. It literally seemed as if everything was going down there, and one must go along with everything. The chasm into which the cataract falls is hidden by dense masses of snowy foam and spray, rising in an everlasting creation of cloud up into the sky, and vailing the frantic fury of the caldron below, where the waves churn and tread each other underfoot in the rocky abyss that receives them, in darkness which the sun's rays cannot penetrate nor the strongest wind for a moment disperse; a mystery, of which its thousand voices reveal nothing. It is nonsense writing about it—seeing and hearing are certainly, in this case, the only reasons for believing. I think it would be delightful to pass one's life by this wonderful creature's side, and quite pleasant to die and be buried in its bosom....
We left that wonderful place a few days ago, steamed across Lake Ontario, came down the rapids of the St. Lawrence in an open boat, sang the Canadian boat song, and are now safe and sound, only half roasted, in his Majesty's dominions. Of all that we have seen, Niagara is, of course, the old object beyond all others, but we were delighted with the softness and beauty of a great deal of the scenery that we saw in traversing the State of New York—one of twenty States, not the largest of the twenty, but large enough to hold England in its lap.
The rapids of the St. Lawrence, though, I believe, really rather dangerous to descend, have so little appearance of peril that I derived none of the excitement I had expected, and which a little danger always produces, from going through them. Instead of shooting down long sheets of rushing water, which was what I expected, we were tossed and tumbled and shaken up and down, in the midst of a dozen conflicting currents and eddies, which break the whole surface of the river into short pitching waves, and dance about in frantic white whirligigs, like the circles of the bad nuns' ghosts, in Meyerbeer's devilish Opera....
Good-by, my dearest Emily. I am always affectionately yours,
F. A. K.
STEAMBOAT ST. PATRICK, ON THE ST. LAWRENCE, August 17, 1833. MY DEAREST H——,
There is lying in my desk an unfinished letter to you, begun about a week ago, which is pausing for want of an opportunity to go on with it; but here I am, a prisoner in a steamboat, destined to pass the next four and twenty hours on the broad bosom of the St. Lawrence, and what can I do better than begin a fresh chapter to you, leaving the one already begun to be finished on my next holiday. My holidays, indeed, are far from leisure time, for when I have nothing to do I have all the more to see; so that I am as busy and more weary than if I were working much harder.
We have been staying for the last fortnight in Quebec, and are now on our way back to Montreal, where we shall act a night or two, and then return to the United States, to New York and Boston.... The greater part of these poems of Tennyson's which you have sent me we read together. The greater part of them are very beautiful. He seems to me to possess in a higher degree than any English poet, except, perhaps, Keats, the power of writing pictures. "The Miller's Daughter," "The Lady of Shalott," and even the shorter poems, "Mariana," "Eleaenore," are full of exquisite form and color; if he had but the mechanical knowledge of the art, I am convinced he would have been a great painter. There are but one or two things in the volume which I don't like. "The little room with the two little white sofas," I hate, though I can fancy perfectly well both the room and his feeling about it; but that sort of thing does not make good poetry, and lends itself temptingly to the making of good burlesque.
I have much to tell you, for in the last two months I have seen marvelous much. I have seen Niagara. I wish you had been there to see it with me. However, Niagara will not cease falling; and you may, perhaps, at some future time, visit this country. You must not expect any description of Niagara from me, because it is quite unspeakable, and, moreover, if it were not, it would still be quite unimaginable. The circumstances under which I saw it I can tell you, but of the great cataract itself, what can be told except that it is water?
I confess the sight of it reminded me, with additional admiration, of Sir Charles Bagot's daring denial of its existence; having failed to make his pilgrimage thither during his stay in the United States, he declared on his return to England that he had never been able to find it, that he didn't believe there was any such thing, and that it was nothing but a bragging boast of the Americans.
At Albany, our first resting-place from New York, we had been joined by Mr. Trelawney, who had been introduced to me in New York, and turned out to be the well-known friend of Byron and Shelley, and author of "The Adventures of a Younger Son," which is, indeed, said to be the story of his own life.
[His wild career of sea-adventure with De Ruyter, who was supposed to have left him at his death all his share of the results of their semi-buccaneering exploits, his friendship and fellowship with Byron and Shelley, the funeral obsequies he bestowed upon the latter on the shore of the Gulf of Spezzia, his companionship in the mountains of Greece with the patriot chief Odysseus, and his marriage to that chief's sister, are all circumstances given with more or less detail in his book, which was Englished for him by Mary Shelley, the poet's widow, who was much attached to him; Trelawney himself being quite incapable of any literary effort which required a knowledge of common spelling.... He was strikingly handsome when first I knew him, with a countenance habitually serene, and occasionally sweet in its expression, but sometimes savage with the fierceness of a wild beast. His speech and movements were slow and indolently gentle, his voice very low and musical, and his utterance deliberate and rather hesitating; he was very tall, and powerfully made, and altogether looked like the hero of a wild life of adventure, such as his had been. I hear he is still alive, a very wonderful-looking old man, who sat to Millais for his picture, exhibited in 1874, of the "Old Sea-Captain."]
We all liked him so well that my father invited him to join our party, and travel with us to Niagara, whither he was bound as well as ourselves. He had seen it before, and though almost all the wonders of the world are familiar to him, he said it was the only one that he cared much to see again.
We reached Queenstown on the Niagara River, below the falls, at about twelve o'clock, and had three more miles to drive to reach them. The day was serenely bright and warm, without a cloud in the sky, or a shade in the earth, or a breath in the air. We were in an open carriage, and I felt almost nervously oppressed with the expectation of what we were presently to see. We stopped the carriage occasionally to listen for the giant's roaring, but the sound did not reach us until, within three miles over the thick woods which skirted the river, we saw a vapory silver cloud rising into the blue sky. It was the spray, the breath of the toiling waters ascending to heaven. When we reached what is called the Niagara House, a large tavern by the roadside, I sprang out of the carriage and ran through the house, down flights of steps cut in the rock, and along a path skirted with low thickets, through the boughs of which I saw the rapids running a race with me, as it seemed, and hardly faster than I did. Then there was a broad, flashing sea of furious foam, a deafening rush and roar, through which I heard Mr. Trelawney, who was following me, shout, "Go on, go on; don't stop!" I reached an open floor of broad, flat rock, over which the water was pouring. Trelawney seized me by the arm, and all but carried me to the very brink; my feet were in the water and on the edge of the precipice, and then I looked down. I could not speak, and I could hardly breathe; I felt as if I had an iron band across my breast. I watched the green, glassy, swollen heaps go plunging down, down, down; each mountainous mass of water, as it reached the dreadful brink, recoiling, as in horror, from the abyss; and after rearing backward in helpless terror, as it were, hurling itself down to be shattered in the inevitable doom over which eternal clouds of foam and spray spread an impenetrable curtain. The mysterious chasm, with its uproar of voices, seemed like the watery mouth of hell. I looked and listened till the wild excitement of the scene took such possession of me that, but for the strong arm that held me back, I really think I should have let myself slide down into the gulf. It was long before I could utter, and as I began to draw my breath I could only gasp out, "O God! O God!" No words can describe either the scene itself, or its effect upon me.
We staid three days at Niagara, the greater part of which I spent by the water, under the water, on the water, and more than half in the water. Wherever foot could stand I stood, and wherever foot could go I went. I crept, clung, hung, and waded; I lay upon the rocks, upon the very edge of the boiling caldron, and I stood alone under the huge arch over which the water pours with the whole mass of it, thundering over my rocky ceiling, and falling down before me like an immeasurable curtain, the noonday sun looking like a pale spot, a white wafer, through the dense thickness. Drenched through, and almost blown from my slippery footing by the whirling gusts that rush under the fall, with my feet naked for better safety, grasping the shale broken from the precipice against which I pressed myself, my delight was so intense that I really could hardly bear to come away.
The rock over which the rapids run is already scooped and hollowed out to a great extent by the action of the water; the edge of the precipice, too, is constantly crumbling and breaking off under the spurn of its downward leap. At the very brink the rock is not much more than two feet thick, and when I stood under it and thought of the enormous mass of water rushing over and pouring from it, it did not seem at all improbable that at any moment the roof might give way, the rock break off fifteen or twenty feet, and the whole huge cataract, retreating back, leave a still wider basin for its floods to pour themselves into. You must come and see it before you die, dear H——.
After our short stay at Niagara, we came down Lake Ontario and the St. Lawrence to Montreal and Quebec. Before I leave off speaking of that wonderful cataract, I must tell you that the impression of awe and terror it produced at first upon me completely wore away, and as I became familiar with it, its dazzling brightness, its soothing voice, its gliding motion, its soft, thick, furry beds of foam, its vails and draperies of floating light, and gleaming, wavering diadems of vivid colors, made it to me the perfection of loveliness and the mere magnificence of beauty. It was certainly not the "familiarity" that "breeds contempt," but more akin to the "perfect love" which "casteth out fear;" and I began at last to understand Mr. Trelawney's saying that the only impression it produced on him was that of perfect repose; but perhaps it takes Niagara to mesmerize him.
[The first time I attempted to go under the cataract of Niagara I had a companion with me, and one of the local guides, who undertook to pilot us safely. On reaching the edge of the sheet of water, however, we encountered a blast of wind so violent that we were almost beaten back by it. The spray was driven against us like a furious hailstorm, and it was impossible to open our eyes or draw our breath, and we were obliged to relinquish the expedition. The next morning, going down to the falls alone, I was seduced by the comparative quietness and calm, the absence of wind or atmospheric disturbance, to approach gradually the entrance to the cave behind the water, and finding no such difficulty as on the previous day, crept on, step by step, beneath the sheet, till I reached the impassable jutting forward of the rock where it meets the full body of the cataract. My first success emboldened, me to two subsequent visits, the small eels being the only unpleasant incident I encountered. The narrow path I followed was a mere ledge of shale and broken particles of the rock, which is so frayable and crumbling, either in its own nature, or from the constant action of the water, that as I passed along and pressed myself close against it, I broke off in my hands the portions of it that I grasped.]
A few miles below the falls is a place called the whirlpool, which, in its own kind, is almost as fine as the fall itself. The river makes an abrupt angle in its course, when it is shut in by very high and rocky cliffs—walls, in fact—almost inaccessible from below. Black fir trees are anchored here and there in their cracks and fissures, and hang over the dismal pool below, most of them scathed and contorted by the fires or the blasts of heaven. The water itself is of a strange color, not transparent, but a pale blue-green, like a discolored turquoise, or a stream of verdigris, streaked with long veins and angry swirls of white, as if the angry creature couldn't get out of that hole, and was foaming at the mouth; for, before pursuing its course, the river churns round and round in the sullen, savage, dark basin it has worn for itself, and then, as if it had suddenly found an outlet, rushes on its foaming, furious way down to Ontario. We had ridden there and alighted from our horses, and sat on the brink for some time. It was the most dismal place I ever beheld, and seemed to me to grow horribler every moment I looked at it: drowning in that deep, dark, wicked-looking whirlpool would be hideous, compared to being dashed to death amid the dazzling spray and triumphant thunder of Niagara.
[There are but three places I have ever visited that produced upon me the appalling impression of being accursed, and empty of the presence of the God of nature, the Divine Creator, the All-loving Father: this whirlpool of Niagara, that fiery, sulphurous, vile-smelling wound in the earth's bosom, the crater of Vesuvius, and the upper part of the Mer de Glace at Chamouni. These places impressed me with horror, and the impression is always renewed in my mind when I remember them: God-forsaken is what they looked to me.]
I do not believe this whirlpool is at all as generally visited as the falls, and perhaps it might not impress everybody as it did me.
Quebec, where we have been staying, is beautiful. A fortress is always delightful to me; my destructiveness rejoices in guns and drums, and all the circumstance of glorious war. The place itself, too, is so fiercely picturesque—such crags, such dizzy, hanging heights, such perpendicular rocky walls, down to the very water's edge, and such a broad, bright bay. The scenery all round Quebec is beautiful, and we went to visit two fine waterfalls in the neighborhood, but of course to us just now there is but one waterfall in the world.... God bless you, dear!
Ever affectionately yours, F. A. K.
TO MRS. JAMESON.
NEW YORK, Tuesday, October 15, 1833.
You are wandering, dear Mrs. Jameson, in the land of romance, the birthplace of wild traditions, the stronghold of chivalrous legends, the spell-land of witchcraft, the especial haunt and home of goblin, specter, sprite, and gnome; all the beautiful and fanciful creations of the poetical imagination of the Middle Ages. You are, I suppose, in Germany; intellectually speaking, almost the antipodes of America. Germany is now the country to which my imagination wanders oftener than to any other. Italy was my wishing land eight years ago, but many things have dimmed that southern vision to my fancy, and the cloudier skies, wilder associations, and more solemn spirit of Germany attract me more now than the sunny ruin-land....
I shall not return to England, not even to visit it now—certainly never to make my home there again. "The place that knew me will know me no more," and you will never again have the satisfaction of coming to me after a first night's new part to say all manner of kind things about it to me. My feelings about the stage you know full well, and will rejoice with me that there is a prospect of my leaving it before its pernicious excitements had been rendered necessary to me by habit. Yet when I think of my "farewell night," I cannot help wishing it might have taken place in London, before my own people, who received my first efforts so kindly, and where I stood in the very footprints, as it were, of my kindred.... Thank you for your long and entertaining letter, and for the copy of the second edition of "Shakespeare's Women." You cannot think how extremely popular you are in this country. A lady assured me the other day, that when you went to heaven, which you certainly would, Shakespeare would meet you and kiss you for having understood, and made others understand, him so well. If ever you do come to this side of that deep, dividing ditch, which you speak of as not an improbable event, you will find as much admiration waiting for you here as you can have left behind; whether it is equally valuable, it is for you to judge.... I have seen Niagara since last I wrote to you, and it was in a balcony almost overhanging it that I saw your husband, and that he gave me long accounts of your literary plans.
Dear Mrs. Jameson, this is a short and stupid letter, but I have been working awfully hard, and have not been well for the past month, and am not capable of much exertion. It is quite a novelty to me, and not an agreeable one, to feel myself weak, and worn out, and good for nothing. Good-by; write to me from some of your halting-places, and believe me ever yours truly,
F. A. K.
I noted the altered frontispiece of my little book.
BOSTON, April 16, 1834. DEAR MRS. JAMESON,
I received a kind and interesting letter from you, dated "Munich," some time past, and lately another from London, telling me of the alarm you experienced with regard to your father's health, and your sudden return from Germany, which I regretted very much, for selfish as well as sympathetic motives. You were not only enjoying yourself there, but were gathering materials for the enjoyment of others; and I am as loath to lose the benefit of your labors as sorry that your pleasant holiday was thus interrupted.
It is now probable, unless the Atlantic should like me better going than it did coming, and that it should take me to its bosom, that I may be in London in July, when I hope I shall find you there.... I am coming back to England, after all, and shall, I think, remain on the stage another year....
I received, a few days ago, a letter from dear H——, in which she mentioned that you had an intention of writing a memoir or biographical sketch of "the Kemble family," in which, if I understood her right, you thought of introducing the notice which you wrote for Hayter's drawings of me in Juliet. She said that you wished to know whether I had any objection or dislike to your doing so, and I answered directly to yourself, "None in the world." I had but one fault to find with that notice of me, that it was far too full of praise; I thought it so sincerely. But, without wishing to enter into any discussion about my merits or your partiality, I can only repeat that you are free to write of me what you will, and as you will; but, for your own sake, I wish you to remember that praise is, to the majority of readers, a much more vapid thing than censure, and that if you could admire me less and criticise me more, I am sure, as the housemaids say, you would give more satisfaction. However, keep your conscience by you; praise or blame, it is none of my business. Talking of that same Juliet, I received a letter from Hayter the other day which gave me some pain. He tells me that he has all those sketches on his hands, and asks me if I am inclined to take them of him. I fear his applying to me, at such a distance, on this subject, is a sign that he is not prosperous or doing well. He is an amiable, clever little man, and I shall feel very sorry if my surmise proves true. My father wishes to have the collection, and I shall write to tell him so forthwith.
It is no slight illustration to me of the ephemeral nature of the popularity which I enjoyed, to think that those drawings, which, as works of art, were singularly elegant and graceful, should go a-begging for a purchaser. Verily "all is vanity!"
[My friend, Lord Ellesmere, purchased the series of drawings Mr. Hayter made from my performance of Juliet; and on my last visit to Lady Ellesmere at Hatchford, she pointed them out to me round a small hall that led to her private sitting-room, over the writing-table of which hung a miniature of me copied from a drawing of Mrs. Jameson's by that charming and clever woman, Miss Emily Eden.]
You will be sorry for me and for many when I tell you that our good, dear friend Dall is dangerously ill. I am writing at this moment by her bed.... This is the only trial of the kind I have ever undergone; God has hitherto been pleased to spare all those whom I love, and to grant them the enjoyment of strength and health. This is my first lonely watching by a sick-bed, and I feel deeply the sadness and awfulness of the office.... Now that I am beginning to know what care and sorrow really are, I look back upon my past life and see what reason I have to be thankful for the few and light trials with which I have been visited. My poor dear aunt's illness is giving us a professional respite, for which my faculties, physical and mental, are very grateful. They needed it sorely; I was almost worn out with work, and latterly with anxiety and bitter distress.
We terminated our last engagement here on Friday last, when the phlegmatic Bostonians seemed almost beside themselves with excitement and enthusiasm: they shouted at us, they cheered us, they crowned me with roses. Conceive, if you can, the shocking contrast between all this and the silent sick-room, to which I went straight from the stage....
Surely, our profession involves more intolerable discords between the real human beings who exercise it and their unreal vocation, than any in the world!... In returning to England, two advantages, which I shall value much, will be obtained: a fortnight's rest during the passage, and, I hope, not quite such hard work when I resume my labors.... As for the hollowness and heartlessness of the world, by which one means really the people that one has to do with in it, I cannot say that I trouble my mind much about it. In their relations with me I commit every one to their own conscience; if they deal ill by me, they deal worse by themselves.... I hope you may be in London when we reach it. Farewell.
I am ever yours truly, FANNY KEMBLE.
NEW YORK, Thursday, April 24, 1834. MY DEAR H——,
This will be but a short letter, the first short one you will have received from me since we parted. Dear Dall has gone from us. She is dead; she died in my arms, and I closed her eyes.... I cannot attempt to speak of this now, I will give you all details in my next letter. It has been a dreadful shock, though it was not unexpected; but there is no preparation for the sense of desolation which oppresses me, and which is beyond words.... I wrote you a long letter a few days ago, which will perhaps have led you to anticipate this. We shall probably be in England on the 10th of July.... The sole care of my father, who is deeply afflicted, and charge of everything, devolves entirely on me now.... We left Boston on Tuesday.... I act here to-night for the first time since I lost that dear and devoted friend, who was ever near at hand to think of everything for me, to care for me in every way. I have almost cried my eyes out daily for the last three months; but that is over now. I am working again, and go about my work feeling stunned and bewildered....
I saw Dr. Channing on Monday; he has just lost a dear and intimate connection. With what absolute faith he spoke of her! Gone! to the Author of all good. That which was good must return to Him. It is true, and I believe it, and know it; but at first I was lost.... God bless you, dear H——. We shall meet erelong, and in the midst of great sorrow that will be a great joy to
Yours ever affectionately, F. A. K.
We have buried dear Dall in a lonely, lovely place in Mount Orban's Cemetery, where —— and I used to go and sit together last spring, in the early time of our intimacy. I wished her to lie there, for life and love and youth and death have their trysting-place at the grave.
* * * * *
My aunt died in consequence of an injury to the spine, received by the overturning of our carriage in our summer tour to Niagara.
* * * * *
I was married in Philadelphia on the 7th of June, 1834, to Mr. Pierce Butler, of that city.
Aberdeen, Lord, Lawrence's picture of, 217.
Abbot, Mr., his failure as Romeo, 197, 199; a tumble, 243; helping Covent Garden, 464.
Abbotsford, appearance after Scott's death, 264, 265.
"Abbot, The," 402.
Aberdeen, Lord, 326.
Abingdon, Mrs., 258.
"Adam Blair," 444.
Addlestone, 105, 418, 420.
Adorni, in "The Maid of Honor," 391.
Age, The, 170; its editor thrashed by Charles Kemble, 310.
Alaba, General, 486.
Allen, Sir William, 526, 527, 529.
Alvanley, Lord, contrasted with Stephenson, 456.
Amelia, Princess, presents a necklace to Mrs. Charles Kemble, 449.
America, incident of Fanny Kemble's last public reading in, 223, 277; talking of going to, 425; what it was not, 426; Fanny Kemble's thoughts of, 483; climate of, 535; landing at New York, 535; flies and mosquitoes, 541; horse-racing in, 577.
"Andromaque," 68, 419.
Angerstein's Gallery, 475, 484.
"Anglaises pour rire, Les," 66.
"Anna Bolena," 428, 444.
Anglo-Saxons, John Kemble's history of, 505.
Anson, Colonel, 302.
Antonio, Countess St., 101, 338.
Antonio, Marc, 528.
Apsley House, windows smashed, 461.
Ardgillan, 111, 133, 240, 253, 273, 289, 290, 318, 329, 348, 363, 457.
Ariel, Goethe compared with, 338.
Arkwright, Mrs. Robert, 29; Robert, 22.
Arnold, Mr., 336; speeches on theatre patents, 339.
Art, a few words on, 476.
"Artaxerxes," Miss Sheriff's debut in, 464.
Artist Life in England, 5.
Arundel, House of, 265.
Ashburton, Lord and Lady, 302.
Ashley, Wm., Earl of Shaftesbury, married to Miss Bailey, 357.
Augustin's Gallery, 442.
Austen, Jane, 103; her novels, 441.
Assisi, Francis de, 426.
Aston Hall, 278.
Aston, Clinton, 298.
Bacon, Mr., 88, 125; his abusive critique in the Times of Fanny Kemble's acting, 464, 481; Editor of the Times, 519.
Bagot, Sir Charles, denial of the existence of Magara, 582.
Baillie, "Count Basil," 342.
Baillie, Miss Joanna, writes the part of "Jane de Montfort" especially for Mrs. Siddons, 349.
Ballantyne, Scott's notes to, 260; his unfavorable criticisms of Fanny Kemble, 262, 265.
Baltimore, appearance of, 560; beauty of its women, 562.
Balzac, "Scenes of Parisian Life," 72, 93.
Bannisters, 271, 451, 454.
Barham, his comical poem on "Henri Trois," 484; critique of "Katharine of Cleves," 493.
Baring, Mr. and Lady Harriet, 302.
Bartley, timidity about success of "The Hunchback," 377; hearing Knowles read "The Hunchback," 390; plan for a new theatrical speculation in Covent Garden, 553; "cutting" "The Star of Seville" for the Stage, 495.
Barton, 293, 326.
Bath, 256, 416.
Batthyany, Count, 299, 302; Countess, 302.
Bayley, Miss, marriage to Earl of Shaftesbury, 357.
Beatrice, 336, 341, 344, 516.
Beauclerc, the young ladies, chaperoned by Duchess of St. Albans, 392.
Beaufort, drives the coach, 330.
Beau, Madame le, 491.
Becher, Lady, (see O'Neill, Miss), anecdotes of, 194.
Becher, Sir (William Wrixon), married to Miss O'Neill, 195.
Bedford, Duke of, 347.
Beechey, Sir William, 393.
"Beggar's Opera, The," Miss Sheriff in, 471.
Bellamy, Mrs., rivalry with Garrick, 452.
Belvidera, first dress for, 208; Fanny Kemble's dislike of the part, 236; her second part, 235, 336; in London, 460, 469.
Belvoir Castle burned, 46.
Belzoni, Madame, 37.
Bennett, as Laval, 508; in "Francis I.," 509.
Bentham, Jeremy, 122; his philanthropy, 137; John Kemble's admiration for, 180.
Berquin, Juvenile dramas, 2.
Berry, the Misses, 106.
Biagio's Preface to Dante, 448.
Bianca, 325, 332, 523; Mrs. Kemble's opinion of Fanny Kemble in, 333, 386, 414, 469, 474, 483; Fanny Kemble's best part, 483; her first play in New York, 536.
Bishop, the murderer, 462.
Bishop, his opera "Cortex," 86.
Blackshaw, Mrs., 37.
Blackwood, Mrs., 47, 173.
Blaise Castle, 426.
Boaden, his life of Sarah Siddons, 128.
"Bonaparte," the play, 366.
Bonaparte, Napoleon, 364; melodrama on his life, 399; at St. Helena, Fanny Kemble's verses on, 441; letters to Josephine, 462.
Bonheur, Rosa, 345.
"Borderers, The," 508, 509, 513.
Boston, enthusiasm at Fanny Kemble's farewell engagement, 588.
Bouilland, Mr., experiments on Brains, 418.
Boulogne, Fanny Kemble at school at, 26; farewell to, 31.
Bourbon, the Younger of the Orleans branch, 277.
Boyd, 293, 479.
Bradshaw, Mrs. (Maria Tree), in "Hernani" at Bridgewater House, 376; in Clari and Mary Copp, 396, 497.
Braham, 97; sings "Tom Tug," 395.
Brain, anatomy of the, 528.
Brand, Mr., 346.
Bridgewater House, 374; "Hernani" at, 376; first rehearsal of "Hernani" at, 396.
Brighton, 256, 324, 325, 327, 466.
Bristol, 416; market at, 424; Abbey church, 425; unprosperous business, 428; trouble at theatre, 432.
British Canada, 346.
Brougham, Lord, in Charles Kemble's suit, 88, 142, 332; his mother, 344, 459; a man of steel, 474.
Browning, Robert, 126; compared with Shelley, 384; "Blot on the Scutcheon" and Pippa Passes, ib.
Brunet, in "Les Anglaises pour Rire," 66.
Brunswick, Caroline of, Princess of Wales, 251.
Brunswick, Duke of, at Brunswick House, 422.
Brunton, manager of theatre at Bristol, in trouble, 431; his benefit, 433; effort by Charles Kemble's Company to help him, 433; in prison, 434.
Brunton, Miss (Lady Craven), 292.
Bryant, William Cullen, poetry of, 545.
Buckingham Gate, see Jones Street, 168, 267.
Buckinghamshire, 277, 297, 304, 305.
Burney, Dr., 327.
Burk, the murderer, 462.
Burns, Robert, 80, 161; adversely criticised, 335.
Bury St. Edmunds, 108; Henry Kemble at, 482.
Butler, Lady Eleanor, 345.
Butler, Pierce, marriage to Fanny Kemble, June 7, 1834, 590.
Byng, Frederick, 485; a long call, 485.
Byron, Lord, 104, 110, 165; "Cain," 165, 333; "Manfred," 165, 333; peculiar combination of vices and virtues, 166; pernicious influence on the young, 167, 270; play of "Werner," 308; Mrs. John Kemble's impressions of, 330; "Don Juan," 333; "Lucifer," 333; "Childe Harold," 333; Sundry opinions on, 333; his works compared with Hope's "Anastasius," 337.
Byron, Lady, her influence on Mrs. Jameson, 129; her appearance, 130; deprecates the publication of a new edition of Byron's works, 167.
Calcott, Lady, 506.
Calcutta, Henry Kemble, Collector of the Port of, 323.
Calista, in "The Fair Penitent," 318; a failure, 318, 323, 325.
Cambridge, Duchess of, 303.
Camden Place, 13.
"Camiola," Fanny Kemble in, 255, 257, 367, 385, 388, 391.
Campbell, his life of Sarah Siddons, 128; life of Lawrence, 239; the poet, 242; "Pleasures of Hope," 358; application to Mrs. Fitzhugh for Mrs. Siddons' letters, 451; life of Mrs. Sarah Siddons, 504.
Candia, M. de, see Mario, 497.
Canizzaro, Duchess of, 101.
Canning, Lawrence's picture of, 217.
Carey, admiration for Mrs. Jameson's works, 579.
Carlisle, Lord, 418.
Carlyle, his article in Edinburgh Review, 80; biography of Sterling, 185.
Cartwright, Mr., 320; a pleasant evening at his house, 395.
Cassiobury Park, 90, 305, 397, 400.
Castlereagh, Lord Grey, haunted by a vision of, 474.
Catalani, her last public appearance, 162; her last appearance, 163.
Catons, The, Lady Wellesley's father and mother, 562.
Cavaliers, Ancient vs. Modern, 527.
Cavendish, Miss, on the stay-at-home sensation, 393.
Cavendish, Col. and Lady, 471.
Cawse, Miss, in "Artaxerxes," 465.
Cenci, Beatrice, 302.
Chambers, the Brothers, 161; "Vestiges of Creation," ib.
Channing, Essay on Milton, 337; view of man's nature, 362; his adversaries, 433; on the relative merits of England and America, 539, 559; appearance of, 576; theatrical opinions, 576; opinion of Miss Martineau's writings, 578; infinite faith in a dead friend's happiness, 589.
Chantrey, 345; Sir Francis, his design of vase presented to Charles Kemble, 354.
"Characters of Shakespeare's Women," Mrs. Jameson's book on, 275.
Charles de Bourbon, Kemble as, 508.
Charles X., 276.
Charles I., his resting-place at Edge Hill, 278.
Charles II., 308.
Charles, King, martyrdom of, 499.
Charles X., King of France, 522.
Charlotte, Queen, 449.
Chartier, Alin, 462.
Chatmoss, 279; drained and healthy, 530.
Chesterfield, Countess of, 302; as an equestrian, 471.
Cholera, in Edinburgh, 500; in London, 502; in Liverpool, 529; in Boston, 534; in Philadelphia, ib.; in Baltimore, ib.; in New York, ib.
"Cibber's Lives," 462.
Clairon, 8; Garrick's opinion of, 446.
Clanwilliam, Lord, Lawrence's picture of, 422.
Clarendon, Lord, puts Horace Twiss in Parliament, 87; the Grove, 90, 102; influence in getting Horace Twiss into Parliament, 335.
Clari, Mrs. Bradshaw in, 396.
Class Prejudice to Actors, 65.
Clay, Henry, 549; Fanny Kemble's Letters of Introduction to, 561.
Cleopatra, Queen, as a dramatic writer, 447.
Clifford, Lord de, 426.
Clint, picture of Cecilia Siddons, 405.
Clive, Mrs. Archer, 153.
Cobb, Mrs. and Miss, 211.
Cobbe, Miss, her theory on the future existence of animals, 321.
Cobbett, article on in the Examiner, 435.
Collins' "Ode to the Passions," Liston reciting, 460.
Combe, Cecilia, 151.
Combe, George, "the Apostle of Phrenology," 151; author of "Constitution of Man," ib.
Combe, Andrew, 151; works upon physiology, hygiene, and education of children, 154; combing, 155; his age, 157; his anecdote of Scott's "feudal insanity," 265, 316, 412; on climbing, 420; lectures in the Phrenological Museum, 527; "Constitution of Man," 530.
Communion service, 401.
Constance selected for Fanny Kemble's benefit, 359; success of, 361, 417; Mrs. Siddons' sketch of, 517.
"Constitution of Man," 151, 530.
Contat, Mlle., 258.
Cooper, Fenimore, "The Borderers," 508, 509; compared with Charles Kemble in "Venice Preserved," 544.
Cornwall, Barry, 124, 345, 353.
Cork, Lady, 254, 289, 372; vivacity at an advanced age, 379; curious arrangement of her drawing-room, ib.; "Ancient Cork," ib.; "Memory," ib.; idea of heaven, ib.; propensity for taking that which was not hers, 381, 389; little parties of, 391; a noisy conversation, 519.
"Corrombona, Vittoria, Duchess of Bracciano," 353.
Cottin, Madame, 332.
Coutts, Mr., his fortune, 391.
Coutts, Miss Burdett, recipient of all Mr. Coutts' fortune, 392.
Covent Garden Chambers, 17, 25.
Covent Garden Theatre, Charles Kemble's partnership in, 35, 36; Weber at, 37; Charles Kemble's liabilities in, 107; a woman wanted, 123; Covent Garden to be sold at auction, 186; Theatre patent assailed, 339; cutting down salaries, 463; ruined at last, 509; farewell to, 520; turned into an opera house, 521; burned down, ib.
Crabbe, as an unpoetical poet, 385.
Craven Hill, 31, 32.
Craven, Lady, 292.
Craven, Mr., in "Hernani," at Bridgewater House, 376; in "Hernani," 396, 399, 404.
Croton water in New York, 537.
Cromwell, marks of his cannon at Edge Hill, 278.
Cumberland, Duke and Duchess of, at Bridgewater House, 422.
Cunard, Samuel, 176.
Dacre, Lord, 11, 348, 357.
Dacre, Lady, 341, 344; her accomplishments, 345; her play of "Isaure," 382; her play "Wednesday Morning," 390, 393: in trouble about "Wednesday Morning," 394; objections to language in "The Star of Seville," 423, 498, 504.
Dall, Aunt (see Kemble, Adelaide).
Dance, Miss, 35.
Dante, "The Intellect of Love," 391; "Devils boiled in pitch," 437; Biagio's Preface to, 448.
Daru's "History of Venice," 466, 471, 506, 513.
Davenport, Mrs., the Nurse in "Romeo and Juliet," 219, 305.
Davy, Sir Humphry, 461, 498.
Dawkins, Major, 362; desire for a good picture of Fanny Kemble, 366.
Dawson, Miss, 316.
Dawson, Rt. Hon. George, 316.
Day, Mr., picture of an Italian Madonna, 442.
De Camp, Captain, goes to England, 2; death, 6.
De Camp, Adelaide, 257; dislike to seeing Fanny Kemble act, 490; death, 589; burial in Mount Orban's Cemetery, 590.
De Camp, Marie Theresa (see Kemble, Mrs. Charles).
De Camp, Victoire, 24; governess at Blackheath, 251.
"De Montfort," 349.
Derby, Lord, incident with Miss Farren in "School for Scandal," 452.
"Der Freyschuetz," 94, 99.
Descuillier, Madame, 51, 445.
Desdemona, Mme. Pasta in, 428.
Deterioration, Artistic, 570.
Devonshire, Duke of, 22.
Devonshire House, 361.
Devy, Madame, 491.
"Diary of an Ennuyee," 123.
"Dick," picture of Fanny Kemble, 113, 131.
Didear, Mr., unkind reception in Edinburgh, 323.
Donkin, Lord Mayor, 398.
"Donna Sol," 472.
Donne, Wm., 183.
Dorchester, start for, 449; arrival at, ib.
Dorval, Madame, 65.
Dramatic writers, women as, 446.
Drury Lane Theatre, 173; patents assailed, 339, 376.
Dublin, 254; Fanny Kemble at, 270; incident before leaving for London, 272; her departure from, 273.
"Duchess of Pagliano," 353.
Duchess of Guise, 420.
Dufferin, Lady, 173, 175.
Du Lac, Sir Launcelot, 327.
Dumesnil, Garrick's opinion of in Phoebe Rodogund and Hermione, 446.
Duraset, Mr., generosity in helping Covent Garden, 464.
Dyce, Rev. Alexander, 255.
Edge Hill, Charles I.'s resting-place at, 278.
Edinburgh Review, 142.
Edinburgh, 144, 257, 259; coldness of its audiences, 261, 290, Fanny Kemble's last days in, 528; cholera in, 500.
Edinburgh Castle, regalia of Scotland in, 261.
"Education of the People, The," 388.
Edward I., 277, 297.
Egerton, Lord Francis, see Ellesmere.
Egerton, Lady Blanche, 270.
Egerton, Mr., declining the proposed accommodation at Covent Garden, 464.
Eldon, Lord, Chancellor in Charles Kemble's suit, 88.
Elizabeth, Queen, 255, 316.
Elizabeth, Princess, at Bridgewater House, 422.
Ellesmere, Earl and Countess of, 77, 82, 270; Fanny Kemble's first friendship with, 374; his epilogue to "Hernani," 412; Hayter's picture of Fanny Kemble for, 412; her high esteem for Lord Carlisle, 418; translation of "Henri Trois," 420; taking Mr. St. Aubin's part in "Hernani," 421; purchases Hayter's drawings of Fanny Kemble in Juliet, 588.
Ellis, letter from Lord Macaulay to, 344.
England, Queen of, 233.
England, King of, not particularly brilliant, 456.
Essex, Countess of, 21.
Essex, Earl of, 2, 90, 104, 397.
Essex, Lady, 21; befriending a street-singer, 435.
Estrella, in "The Star of Seville," 514.
Euphrasia, Mrs. Siddons and Fanny Kemble as, 236, 238, 322, 480, 483.
Evander, John Kemble as, 239.
Everett, Edward, about sermons in general, 433.
Evolena, Mount, 84.
Examiner, The, 435.
Exeter, start for, 448; arrival at, ib.
"Exquisites, The," 395.
Extravagance of the Americans in flowers, 540.
Faith, Religious, 476.
Falkland, Lady, anecdote of her picture at Royal Academy, 393.
Farleigh, a comic actor, 472.
Farquhar's, Lady, party at, 506.
Fauldes tragedy, 466.
"Faust," 138, 339.
Farren, Miss, 258, 301; awkward incident with Lord Derby, 452.
Faudier, Madame, 26, 30.
"Fazio," 323, 325, 331; Fanny Kemble's first appearance in, in America, 572.
Fechter as Hamlet, 25; his "get up" of Othello, 191; "Bel Demonio," 353.
Ferguson, Sir Adam, 260, 261, 262.
Ferrier, Miss, author of "Marriage" and "Inheritance," 260; "Destiny," 389.
"Fine People," 455.
Fires in New York, 537.
Fitzgerald, Edward, 183.
Fitzgerald, Mrs., 342, 504.
Fitzhugh, Emily, 362, 365, 451; emotion at meeting Charles Kemble at Plymouth, 451; Mrs. Siddons' letters, 477.
Fitzhugh, Mrs., 82.
Fitzpatricks, The, Hayter's picture of, 487.
Flore, Mlle., 26.
Flowers, American extravagance in, 540.
Foix, Gaston de, 506.
Ford's "White Devil," 353.
Forest, M. de la, his accounts of Malibran, 203.
Forrester, Annie, Isabel, and Cecil, 302.
Forster, Johann Georg, 347.
Foscolo, Ugo, 345.
Foster, 91, 397, 400.
Foster, Mrs., 276.
Fouque, La Motte, 80.
Fozzard, Capt., 232, 389; riding-school, 471.
"Fra Diavolo," Miss Sheriff in, 469.
France, thoughts of living in the south of, 392.
"Francis I.," correcting the metre, 341, 350, 355, 357, 396; sold to Wm. Murray for L4000, 482; its publication, 497; Murray's desire to publish without last scene, 503; its effect when read in the greenroom of Covent Garden Theatre, 503; the cast altered, 503; preface to, 504; cast upset the second time, 504; prologue, 505; postponed for a fortnight, 510; its popularity due to the indulgence and curiosity of London audiences, 518; played for first time, 525, 526.
Francis, Lord, his play "Henri Trois" postponed, 469.
Francoise de Foix, Fanny Kemble as, 529.
French Revolution of 1830, the, 276.
Fry, Mrs., her visits to Newgate, 413.
Gainsborough, his painting of Mrs. Siddons, 162.
Gall, his philosophy of phrenology, 151.
"Gamester, The," 269, 427, 440; at Plymouth, 446; at Southampton, 454; Charles Kemble in, 524.
Garcia, Marie (see Malibran), as an artist, actress and singer, 203; the sisters Malibran and Pauline Viardot, their accomplishments, 206.
Garrick, his costume in "Macbeth," 190; opinion of Clairon and Dumesnil, 446; rivalry with Mrs. Bellamy, 452.
Genius, what is it? 477.
Genlis, Madame de, 2.
George IV., anecdote of his picture at Royal Academy, 393; at the Weymouth Theatre, 449.
Gerard street, 33.
Ghosts, something about, 133.
"Giovanni di Procida," 472.
Gibraltar, 326, 336.
"Gilbert Gurney," 170.
Glasgow, the audiences at, 267.
Glengall, Lady, 460.
Gloucester, Duchess of, 413.
Gloucester, Duke and Duchess of, 422.
Goethe, 80; "Tasso," 139, 166, 169, 351, 178; his self-experimentalizing in "The Sorrows of Werther," 337; "Faust" and "Wilhelm Meister," 339; his nature, 338; partiality in delineating character, 338.
Gonsalvi, Cardinal, 270.
Gower, Lord Francis Leveson, 300.
Grahame, Lady, 173.
Grammont, Duc de, his two children, 522.
Grammont, Ida de, Duchesse de Guyche, 522.
Grande Place, 27.
Granville, Dr., 344.
Great Russell Street, 267.
"Grecian Daughter," Ward in, 243, 484.
Gregory, Wm., 158.
Grey, Earl, 347.
Greville, Charles, statement about Miss Tree in his "Memoirs," 201.
Greville, Lady Charlotte, 418, 419, 486; a "Swarry" at her house, 491.
Greville, Henry, 396, 471, 496; as an amateur singer, 497; his sensibilities, 486.
Grey, Lady, as an equestrian, 471.
Grey, Lord, haunted by a vision of Lord Castlereagh, 474; responsibility in Reform Bill matters, 494.
Grimani, the sisters, 251.
Grimani, Bellini, 251.
Grimani, Julia, 251.
Grosvenor, Lady Octavia, 270.
Grote, Mrs., 277.
Guilford, his seat at Wroxton Abbey, 388.
Guyce, Duchesse de, 522
Guy's Cliff, 106.
Gwynn, Nell, 308.
Hallam, Arthur, 183; essay on the philosophical writings of Cicero, 514; death of, 185.
Hamilton, Wm., 271.
Hamilton, Sir Ralph, and Lady, 405.
Hamlet, his feigned (?) madness, 327; and Hecuba, 486.
Handel, 95, 97.
Harness, Rev. Wm., 235; opinions of "The Cenci," 334; discussion of one of Hope's theories, 337, 342; biography, 349, 363, 415, 459; "The Wife of Antwerp," 475; play delayed at Covent Garden, 506; criticism of "Star of Seville," 514.
Harness, Mary, 486, 498.
Hare, Julius, biography of Sterling, 185.
"Harlequin and Davy Jones," 320.
Harlow, 327; picture of Mrs. Siddons in "Queen Katharine," 459.
Harris, Charles Kemble shaking hands with, 414.
Harris, Mr., inclined to come to some accommodation with Charles Kemble, 463.
Hatchford, Fanny Kemble and Lady Ellesmere at, 375.
Hatfield House, "Isaure" acted at, 382, 394; old lady burned to death in, 497.
Hathaway, Anne, 182.
Hatherton, Lady, 216.
"Haunted Tower, The," 500.
Haydon's "Bonaparte at St. Helena," Fanny Kemble's verses on, 441.
Hayter, George, 487.
Hayter, John, his sketches of Fanny Kemble as Juliet, 128, 235; portrait of Henry Kemble, 197; picture of Fanny Kemble for Lord Ellesmere, 412; his portraits of Mrs. Norton and the Fitzpatricks, 487; wishes to sell his sketches of Fanny Kemble in Juliet, 588.
Havley, Mr., declining the proposed accommodation at Covent Garden, 464.
Heath Farm, 90, 109, 251, 303.
Heaton, 277; Charles Kemble invited to, 291, 295, 297; evenings at, 300.
Hecuba and Hamlet, 486.
Heidelberg, 284, 294.
Hemans, Mrs., 297, 358.
"Henri Trois," 420, 469; production at Covent Garden postponed, 469; Lord Leveson's translation of, 484.
"Henry VIII.," Mrs. Siddons in, 459.
Herodias' Daughter, 264.
"Hernani," 365, 374: dresses for, 395; at Bridgewater House, 396, 399; rehearsing at Oatlands, 404; dress-rehearsal for, at Bridgewater House, 405; a third representation, 413.
Hertfordshire, see Heath Farm.
Highflyer, The, 330.
Hindoo Theatre, 178.
Hill, Lord, influence to get Henry Kemble his commission, 502.
"History of Venice," 466.
Hogarth, 258; pictures by, 422.
Holbein's painting of "Queen Katharine," 459.
Holland, Lord, 177.
Holland, Lady, death of, 177.
"Holy Family, The," 475.
Honiton, Vale of, 449.
Hook, Theodore, anecdotes of, 170, 172.
Hope, Mr., his residence near Scott's, 265; his theory respecting the destiny of the human soul, 337; "On the Nature and Immortality of the Soul," 494; death of, 337.
Hopwood Hall, 277, 297.
Hosmer, Miss, 302.
Howick, Lord, 347.
Huber, Madame, 347.
Hughes, Dr., witnessing Juliet, 199.
Hugo, Victor, 116; "Hernani," 374; "Notre Dame de Paris," 498.
Human soul, destiny of, 337.
Hume, Baron, 161; his manner to ladies, 527.
Hummel, 321, 395.
"Hunchback, The," 376; entire success of, 378; contrasted with "Romeo and Juliet," 378, 385, 390, 412, 512, 517, 558.
Hunt, Leigh, 383.
Hunt, Mr., quoting the Bible in the House of Commons, 498.
Huskisson, Mr., death on Stephenson's new railroad, 298; news of his death at Manchester, 304, 344; death-place marked by a tablet, 530.
Ilfracombe, a trip to, 434.
Inchbald, Mrs., amusing anecdotes of, 212.
"Inconstant, The," Fanny Kemble as Bizarre in, 547.
"Inez de Castro," 323, 342, 354.
Inglis, Sir Robert, incident of, 493.
Inverarity, Miss, engaged at the Dublin Theatre, 399, 400, 488.
"Invincibles, The," 383.
Irving, Washington, 560, 564, 572; the "creaking door," 573; Isabella, Fanny Kemble as, 253, 414; at Plymouth, 445, 472, 479;
Jacobite, A, 261.
Jackson, Andrew, Fanny Kemble's letters of introduction to, 561; unpopularity in 1832, 549.
Jaffir, Charles Kemble in, 336.
James I., 255.
James, King, saving of his life by the "Douglas woman," 490.
James Street, 114, 168.
Jameson, Mr. Robert, 128.
Jameson, Mrs., 123, 124; acquaintance with Lady Byron, 127; public lectures, 130; protests against Juliet's costume, 189; selection of Juliet's costume, 191; avant propos of Fanny Kemble in Juliet, 234; notice of Fanny Kemble in Juliet, 235; letter from Fanny Kemble at Glasgow, 259; drawing of the rooms at James street, 266; her troubles, 266; water-color sketches, 268; book on Shakespeare's female characters, 359, 513, 531; threatens to write a play, 394; Christina, 499; biographical sketch of the Kemble family, 587.
Jawbone, the Kemble, 345.
Jealousy, a few words about, 474, 483.
Jeffrey, 142, 261.
Jephson, Dr., 106.
"Jew of Aragon, The," 305.
Jig Dancing, 269.
John Bull, The, 170.
John the Baptist, 264.
Jones, Sir William, 178.
Jordan, Mrs., 327; her natural son by William IV., 228.
Journal, 1831, 390.
Julia, in "The Hunchback," 377, 385.
Juliet, chosen for Author's first appearance, 187; her costume for first appearance in, 188; Lawrence and Hayter's sketches of Fanny Kemble in, 234; Fanny Kemble's opinion of, 438.
Julius, Pope, 506.
"Katharine, Queen," 457, 458.
"Katharine of Cleves," Lord Francis Leveson's translation of "Henri Trois," 481, 484, 489, 490; first acting of the play, 491; critiques upon, 493; "more interesting than any thing of Shakespeare's," 94, 496, 499; its popularity waning, 503; awkward incident while playing, 505.
Keats compared to Tennyson, 581.
Kean at the English Theatre in Paris, 115, 118; in "Merchant of Venice," 119; Shakesperean revivals, 191; non-acceptance of a part in "The Hunchback," 376, 429; in Othello, Shylock, and Sir Giles Overreach, 430, 440; effect of his acting, 477; Othello, 478.
Kemble, Adelaide, 17; "Aunt Dall," 18, 23; nurses Fanny Kemble through sickness, 132, 277, 297.
Kemble, Charles, 36, 112, 114; at the English Theatre at Paris, 115; success in Paris, 117; in Falstaff, 123; property almost gone, 135; in Edinburgh, 138; arrested the first time, 168; as Mercutio, 193; acting in "The Gamester," 204; embraced by Mme. Malibran, 204; renewal of intercourse with Lawrence, 217; incident in Dublin, 288; invitation to Heaton, 291; thrashing the Editor of the Age newspaper, 310; acting Jaffir to Fanny Kemble's Belvidera, 336; involved in six lawsuits, 336; speech about theatre patents, 339; in "The Hunchback," 377; as Sir Thomas Clifford in "The Hunchback," 378; overcome with laughter on the stage, 387; forgetting a Duchess, 414; shaking hands with his legal opponent Harris, 414; intention of going to America, 427; opinion of Kean, 429; mistake in rendering Shylock, 430; money seized at benefit in Bristol for Manager Brunton's debts, 431, 440; acting at Plymouth in "The Gamester," 446; enthusiasm over him at Plymouth, 446; his surprising speech, ib.; his health under great trials, 458; as Giaffir, 461; serious illness, 462; recovery, 466; relapse, 467; still worse, 469; again recovering, 472; compared with Kean, 477; as Benedict, 478; recovery, 481; breaks his nose while skating, 490; an unfortunate compromise at Covent Garden, 513; bowed down with care and trouble, 515; refusing to act in "The Hunchback," 517; examination before the House of Commons, 520; twice arrested, 522; farewell at Covent Garden, 529; his estate in St. Giles', 536; beginning in New York with Hamlet, 536; his Romeo and Mercutio compared, 542; compared to Cooper in "Venice Preserved," 544; likely to have to die abroad, 567.
Kemble, Mrs. Charles (Maria Therese de Camp), 2, 3, 4, 6, 65, 98, 109, 112, 118; at Drury Lane, 173; opinion of a stage costume, 190; her failing health, 193; returns to the stage after an absence of twenty years, 219; her interest in Fanny Kemble's Juliet, 225, 267; arrival of in Manchester, 277; delicacy, 294; physical organization, 311; effect of reading Moore's "Life of Byron," 330; rage at a picture of her husband, 345; compared to Mrs. John Kemble, 358; ill health, 371; great pathetic and comic powers, 386; "Francis I." dedicated to, 399; moving the furniture, 464; her horror of the sea, 482.
Kemble, Frances Anne, born 1809, 8; Newman Street, ib.; Westbourne Green, ib.; childish freaks, 10; at school at Mrs. Twiss' at Cambridge Place, 13; punning from Shakespeare, 16; return to London at Covent Garden Chambers, 17; picture then said to be mine, 17; question as to my being born there, 17; anecdote with Talma, 25; went to school in France, 26; early pranks, 26; childhood petulance, 27; taken to an execution, 27; childhood terrors, 29; daily excursions, 30; yearly distribution of prizes, 30; residence at Craven Hill, 31; leaves Boulogne, 31; lodging in Gerard Street, 33, 34; visit from Uncle Kemble, 34; about Scott, Milton and Shakespeare, 36; first visit to Lausanne, 36; musical education, 37; contemplating suicide, 43; goes to Paris, 44; at school in the Rue d'Angouleme, 44; meets Lord Melbourne, 47; goes to hear Mr. Cesar Malan, 49; impressions of Drs. Channing, Dewey, Bellows, Furness, Follen, Wm. and Henry Ware, Frederick Maurice, Dean Stanley, Martineau and Robertson, 49; school life at Mrs. Rowden's, 54; schoolmates, ib.; a companion's funeral, 55; reading Byron on the sly, 57; my music and dancing masters, 58; passion for dancing, 63; private theatricals, 67; first indications of dramatic talent, 70; a new home in the Champs Elysees, 70; an old-fashioned wedding, 72; home from school, 74; cottage at Weybridge, 75; passion for fishing, 78; taken with smallpox, 82; harness for gracefulness, 85; a robbery, 89; trip to Hertfordshire, 90; first meeting with H—— S——, 91; "Der Freyschuetz," 94; presentation to Mendelssohn, 96; spoken of to the Queen, 96; return to Heath Farm, 101; Trenton Falls, 102; love for books, 103; our house at Bayswater, 106; letters from Bayswater, 107; offered L200 for first play, 114; the play of "Francis I." finished, 16; thoughts of a comedy, 118; sees "Merchant of Venice" for first time, 119; visits West India Docks and Thames Tunnel, 120; MSS. in the fire, 122; thoughts of going on the stage, 123; read "Diary of an Ennuyee" for first time, 124; Longing for Italy, 124; acquaintance with Mr. and Mrs. Montagu, 129; picture by "Dick," "There's plenty of it, Fan," 131; ill of measles, 131; desire to say something from myself, 131; ghosts, 132; convalescence, 132; considering a means of livelihood, 135; about marrying, 136; going on the stage, 137; projected works, 138; first ball, 140; admiration for Mrs. Henry Siddons, 143; love for Edinburgh, 145; a touching incident, 147; a Scotch Venus, 149; raspberry tarts, 152; sitting to Lawrence Macdonald for bust, 152; "Grecian Daughters," 152; an old-fashioned house, 156; a partisan of Charles Edward, 156; an unlucky speech, 156; great esteem for Dr. Combe, 155; intimacy with Harry Siddons, 157; incident of Scottish regalia, 157; at Mr. Combe's house, 158; listens to Chambers Brothers' story of poverty, 161; a jolly face for a tragic actress, 162; Mons Meg and Madame Catalani, 162; observance of Sunday, 163; a natural turn for religion, 164; give up Byron's poetry, 165; a new tragedy, "Fiesco," 168; return to London, 168; religious zeal, 170; singing with Moore, 173; begins a visit to England in 1841, 175; meeting Sir Samuel Cunard, 176; through London in 1845, on way to Italy, 176; renewal of intercourse with Mrs. Norton, 177; talks about the Hindoo Theatre, 178; plans for helping my father, 179; goes to Scotland, 180; destroying H.'s letters, 181; German abandoned, 181; a few words about Shakespeare, 182; admiration for young Tennyson's poems, 184; the theatre to be sold, 186; life rather sad, 186; "brought out" as Juliet, 188; a badly dressed Juliet, 189; preparations for first appearance, 189; my opinion of Portia, 187 preparing for a debut, 191; a constant admirer, 197; awkward incident with Mr. Abbot, 199; "Jove, Fanny, you are a lift!" 200; interest in Malibran, 203; acting as Mrs. Beverley in "The Gamester" in Manchester, 204; a strange scene between my father and Madame Malibran, 204 a little advice from Malibran, 204; resemblance to Madame Malibran, 205; translate De Musset's lament for Malibran, 206; restore the ending to "Romeo and Juliet," 207; danger of falling in love with Lawrence, 209; sitting for portrait to Lawrence, 209; a sudden glimpse of Satan, 214; first copy of "Paradise Lost," 215; a deplorable act of honesty, 217; preparing for debut, 218; ideas of beauty, 218; debut in "Romeo and Juliet," 220; first watch, 221; impression of moral danger, 222; a disappointed "puffer," 223; popularity in America, 224; incident of last public reading in America, 224; tenth edition of "Francis I.," 225; income during first professional years, 226; first salary at Covent Garden, thirty guineas weekly, 226; acquaintances behind the scenes, 227; dancing with a queer clergyman, 229; a cold ride from Boston, 231; riding lessons, 232; portrait by Lawrence and sketches by Hayter, 234; likeness to Mrs. Sarah Siddons, 235; appearance in "Grecian Daughter," 236; mourning for Lawrence, 237; dress as Euphrasia, 238; "Shetland pony," 240; altering last scene of "Grecian Daughter," 241; annoyance of being stared at, 242; a tumble in the "Grecian Daughter," 243; a summer tour, 244; in "The Gamester," 245; stage nervousness, 245; first appearance as Portia, 247; fright as Portia, 249; happiness of reading Shakespeare, 249; love for dancing, 252; delight in Portia's costume, 252; acting Isabella at John Kemble's benefit, 253; compared with Mrs. Siddons and Miss O'Neill, 234; farewell to London, 256; as Mrs. Haller, 254; impressions of Bath, 257; audiences not so friendly out of London, 258; fortnight at Edinburgh, 259; at Glasgow, ib.; criticism at Glasgow, 260; breakfasting with Sir Walter Scott, 260: anecdote of Scottish regalia, 261; incident with Scott, 262; Scott's mental triumph over outward circumstances, 263; visit to Abbotsford, 264; scenes and incidents at Abbotsford, 264; visiting Lochs Lomond and Long, 266; audiences at Glasgow, 267; new home at Great Russell street, 268; some portraits, ib.; dinner at Lady Morgan's, 269; life at Bannisters, 271; at Ardgillan Castle, 273; about governesses, 275; about the French Revolution of 1830, 276; a good audience at Dublin, 276; a medley of visits, 278; experimental trip on Stephenson's new railroad, 278; a ride with Stephenson, 279; description of a locomotive, 281; a new sensation, 283; an idea of religion, 285; a warm reception in Dublin, 288; repugnance to work, 298; a distressing letter from John Kemble, 293; a West Indian yarn, 295; at Birmingham, 295; an exhilarating ride, 298; Lord Huskisson's death, 298; evenings at Heaton, 300; the guests at Heaton, 302; to Liverpool for the opening of the new railroad, 303; "The Jew of Aragon," 305; "The Jew of Aragon" and "Griselda," 306; failure of "The Jew of Aragon," 307; consenting to go with Tom Taylor and Charles Reade to see "The King's Wager" for first time, 308; thoughts of publishing the plays and verses, 309; the editor of the Age thrashed, 310; on drawing and painting, 311; about managing children, 312; the Age newspaper, 314; playing "The Provoked Husband," 315; failure of "The Fair Penitent," 318; working on and getting published "The Star of Seville," 319; dinner at Mr. Cartwright's, 321; Christmas-eve at Mrs. Siddons', 322; public opinion about acting with her father, 323; Bianca in "Fazio," 323; Juliet, Calista, Mrs. Haller, and Lady Townley, 323; a run around Brighton, 328; advantage of Mrs. Siddons and Miss O'Neill in their tragic partners, 336; the Chancery case again, 331; a few words about Byron, 331; about children's letters, 332; more about Byron, 333; "Cenci," 334; "Fazio," Mrs. Beverley and Belvidera, 334; Burns, 335; acting Belvidera, 336; learning the part of Beatrice in one hour, 336; Goethe, 338; discussion as to destiny of human soul, 337; reading Channing's Essay on Milton, 337; Goethe's love for Madame Kestner, 337; the journal, 340; "Francis I.," 341; a pleasant party, 342; a little sculpture, 343; the Reform Bill, 344; the Kemble jawbone, 345; production of "Francis I." an annoyance, 350; the "White Devil," 353; benefit at Covent Garden, 356; playing Lady Macbeth, 357; playing Belvidera, 357; Constance, for a benefit, 359; success in Constance, 360; portrait by Mr. Pickersgill, 362; "Chiedo sostegno," 365; Pickersgill, Lawrence, and Turnerelli, 365; about Portia and Camiola, 369; in want of a chapter on, 371; first friendship with Earl and Countess of Ellesmere, 374; about management, 373; on gestures, 373; a new friendship begun at Bridgewater House, 374; opinions as to success of "The Hunchback," 376; in Mariana, 377; opinion of "The Hunchback," 378; contrasting Shakespeare's Juliet with Knowles' Julia, 379; all about Lady Cork, 379; about "Old Plays," 385; Mrs. Charles Kemble's help in leading parts, 386; developing a gift for comedy, 386; embarrassing situations when acting with Mr. Kemble, 387; Massinger's plays compared with some others, 389; Destiny, ib.; "Star of Seville," ib.; compared with Lady Salisbury, 394; finishing "The Star of Seville," 395; first appearance as Lady Teazle, 395; desire to see Weybridge again, 396; correcting proof on "Francis I.," 396; "Reform," 398; dedicating "Francis I." to Mrs. Charles Kemble, 399; the communion service, 401; off for Oatlands, and talks by the way, 402; dress rehearsal for "Hernani," 405; Hayter's picture for Lord Ellesmere, 412; visit to Newgate, 413; death of Mrs. Siddons, 416; a summer's arrangements, 416; "Une Facete," 417; a royal audience, 422; about marriage, 423; talk about dislike to the stage, 432; a street-singing project, 436; sombre thoughts about marriage, 437; opinion of Juliet, 438; at Exeter, 439; getting fortune told, 440; love for Weybridge, 441; verses on Bonaparte at St. Helena, 441; slippery lodgings, 444; "King John," Mrs. Siddons in, 446; women as dramatic writers, 446; a disagreeable sail, 447; "fine people" and "not fine people," 455; failure in Queen Katharine, 459; love for splendor, 460; "Bonaparte's letters to Josephine," 462; cutting down salaries, 463; a few words about letter-writing, 466; terrible suspense about Charles Kemble and the theatre, 467; Bianca as a "golden pheasant," 469; anxiety about Charles Kemble, 470; ill from worrying over Charles Kemble, 470; a serenading incident in the United States, 470; the wrong side of a show, 472; at Angerstein's Picture Gallery, 475; presented to the Duchess of Kent and Princess Victoria, 475; timorousness when singing, 480; Charles Kemble's recovery, 481; thoughts of America, 482; "La Estrella," 483; "Katharine of Cleves," 484; awkward predicament at first acting in "Katharine of Cleves," 491; "out" for first time in a part, 492; about the nature and immortality of the soul, 495; an ugly horse, 496; well-assorted marriages, 498; love of nature, 501; Kemble's publication of his Anglo-Saxon poem of Beowulf, 502; bad management of "Francis I.," 503; feeling about "Francis I.," 504; as the queen-mother in "Francis I.," 508; sober thoughts for the future, 511; purchasing Henry's commission from receipts of "Francis I.," copyright, 515; H—— S—— off for Ireland, 519; farewell to Covent Garden, 520; off for Edinburgh, June 29, 1832, 521; off for America, 522; beginning of acquaintance with Liston the surgeon, 524; acting in "Francis I," first time, 525; Lawrence's the best picture made of Fanny Kemble, 535; ancient vs. modern cavaliers, 527; last day in Edinburgh for two years, 528; from Liverpool to Manchester, 530; first sight of New York, 533; beginning work in New York with Bianca, 536; getting fat, 552; success in America, 560; picture of Fanny Kemble taken to Alleghany Mountains, 569; "fitting" American audiences, 569; playing "Fazio" the first time in America, 572; engaged to be married, 573; seeing Niagara, 580; thoughts of returning to England, 587; Mrs. Jameson's biography of the Kemble family, 588; Aunt Dall's illness, 588; enthusiastic farewell in Boston, 588; marriage to Pierce Butler, June 7, 1834, 590.
Kemble, Henry, 17, 18, 108, 111; his beauty, 140; plans for his provision, 179; trying the part of Romeo, 196; return to Paris, 243; commission in the army, 244, 248; schooling at Westminster over, 267; taken to Heidelberg, 284, 294, 297, 305, 357; ill, 470; passion for the sea, 481; to go into the army, 481; dislike to going to Cambridge, 482; receives commission in the army, 515; appointed tithe-collector in Ireland, 546.
Kemble, Fanny (see Arkwright, Mrs.).
Kemble, John, 34, 81, 108, 109, 111, 113, 118; high honors, 119, 122, 137, 177; determines to enter the church, 179; leaves Cambridge without a degree, 183; Lawrence's admiration for, 207; intention of going into the church, 235; return from Germany, 243; his degree at Cambridge, ib.; takes his degree, 248; his wild scheme of aiding Spain, 293; safe and well, 304; in Spain, 314, 326; gone to Gibraltar, 326; alive and well, 334; prospects on arrival in England, ib.; rumor of imprisonment in Madrid, 336, 356; prospects, 363, 364; conflicting reports of, 387; determination not to leave Spain, 395; return from Spain, 405; home from Spain, 405; translation of a German song, 438; a sad letter from Spain, 479; helping Venables to break Thackeray's nose, 490; history of the Anglo-Saxons, 505.
Kemble, John Philip, misfortunes as manager of Covent Garden Theatre, 35; from Lausanne to London, 34; return to Switzerland, 36; monument at Westminster Abbey, 60, 109; as Rolla in "Pizarro," 174; Lawrence's picture of, 217; as Beverley, 243; benefit, 253; his home in Great Russell street, 267.
Kemble, Mrs. John, 90, 94, 104; compared with Mrs. Charles Kemble, 358; illness of, 467.
Keely, Peter, in "Romeo and Juliet," 219.
Kelly, Mrs. Charles, 98.
Kemble, John Mitchell, 17.
Kemble, Philip, 8.
Kemble, Mrs. Roger, 1, 2.
Kemble, Stephen, 19.
Kemble, Mrs. Stephen, 180.
Kensington Gravel Pits, 506.
Kent, Duchess of, 233; condescension of, 475.
Kent, Chancellor, on Croton water, 537.
Kelly, Michael, 500.
Keppel, Mr., superseded by Charles Kemble in Romeo, 542.
Kerr, Lord Mark, 270.
Kestner, Madame, Goethe and, 337.
"King Lear," reiteration of expressions of grief, 514.
King, Lord, Earl of Lovelace, 404.
Kitchen, Dr., 7.
Knowles, Sheridan, 366; his plays, "The Hunchback" and "Virginius," 376; "The Wife," 377; reading "The Hunchback" to Mr. and Mrs. Charles Kemble and Mr. Bartley, 390; as Master Walter, 512.
"La Chronique de Charles Neuf," 422.
"La Dame Blanche," 492.
"La Estrella," Fanny Kemble's new play, 483.
Lady Byron, her general appearance, 130; deprecates the publication of a new edition of Byron's works, 167.
Lady Glengall, 460.
Lady Macbeth, 357, 359; Fanny Kemble to act in, 417.
Lady Teazle, 385; costume for, 364; Fanny Kemble's first appearance in, 390, 395; her fears of failure in, 394.
Lady Townley, 257, 258, 289, 322, 323, 325; compared with Lady Teazle, 399.
Lake, Admiral, offers to take charge of Henry Kemble, 482.
Lamb, Charles, 124.
Lamb, Lady Caroline, 45, 46.
Lamb, William (see Melbourne).
Lamb's "Dramatic specimens," 385.
Lansdowne, Lord, 175.
Lansdowne House, 177.
Lansdowne, gives Mr. Harness position in Land Office, 349; admiration for Mrs. Sarah Siddons, ib.
Lane, Mr., 240.
Laporte, lessee of Covent Garden from Charles Kemble, 518; giving concerts in Covent Garden, 527.
Lausanne, 34, 90.
Lawrence, Sir Thomas, friendly relations between and Mrs. Charles Kemble restored, 207; admiration for Mrs. Siddons, ib.; engagement broken in favor of her younger sister, ib.; engaged to Miss Sarah Siddons, 207; his interest in authors, 208; criticisms of Fanny Kemble's acting, 209; "Lawrence is dead," ib.; anecdotes of, 210, 215; painting of Satan, 214; beautiful drawing-room, ib.; merit as a painter, 216; pictures of Canning, Lord Aberdeen, and Mr. John Kemble, 217; his want of conscience, ib.; print of his portrait of Fanny Kemble, 234; his criticisms of Fanny Kemble, 237, 239, 320, 327; lawsuits about theatre patents, 339; Pickersgill care not to copy, 365; Duke of Wellington's bitter pill to, 393; a dangerous companion, 402; opinion of a Madonna, 242; picture of Fanny Kemble, the best, 525; his opinion on theatrical matters, 577.
Lea, girls' school at, 251.
Leach, Sir John, 88.
Leamington, 106, 180.
Lee, the Misses, adaptation of the "Canterbury Tales" to "Father and Son," 308.
Lennox, Lord William, 98.
Leopold, Prince, at Bridgewater House, 422.
Le Sage's novels, 422.
Le Texier, 2, 30.
Levassor, ludicrous account of "Robert the Devil," 507.
Leveson, Lord Francis, his new piece, 478; translation of "Henri Trois," 481; entertainment at Bridgewater House, 365.
Lindley, Miss, 173.
Liston, 7, 20, 21; reciting Collins' "Ode to the Passions," 460; compared to Reeve, 508.
Liston, the surgeon, beginning of Fanny Kemble's acquaintance with, 524; death, ib.
Liverpool, 277; railway between and Manchester, 278.
Loch Long, 267.
Locomotives, the first, 280.
Lockhart, reviews "Francis I." instead of Millman, 512.
Lomond, Loch, 266.
London, cholera in, 502 farewell to, 522.
Londonderry, Lord, 398.
Lope de Vega, sketch of the life and works of, 319.
Loudham, his hopes of fixing the Chancery suit of Charles Kemble, 463.
Louis Philippe, 276.
Louis XI., his ugly secretary Alin Chartier, 462.
Louis, at Covent Garden Theatre, 521.
Lucifer, Byron's fancy for the character of, 331.
Lyndhurst, Lord, 88.
Lyttleton, Lord ("The Wicked"), 33.
Macaulay, Lord, letter to Mr. Ellis, 344; enthusiasm over John Kemble's book on history of the Anglo-Saxons, 505.
"Macbeth" contrast with the "Tempest", 292.
Macdonald, Sir John, 171, 244, 486, 502.
Macdonald (sculptor), desiring to make a statue of Fanny Kemble, 236, 462; his collection of sculpture, 343.
Macdonald, Lady, "Sir John's General," 344, 481.
Macdonald, James, 489.
Macdonald, Lawrence, 152.
Macdonald, Julia, 244.
Mackay, 442, 488.
Macready, at the English theatre in Paris, 115; his opinion of Fanny Kemble, 189; Shakespearean revivals, 191; his fine acting in "Werner," 308; success in "The Fatal Dowry," 318; in "Rienzi," 354; in "Virginius," 376; prophecy come true, 390.
Madrid, John Kemble a prisoner at, 336.
Maida, Scott's hound, 263.
"Maid of Honor, The," success of, 364, 367, 385, 391.
Malibran, Mme., letters to her husband, 203; overcome by Charles Kemble's acting, 204; debut and death in England, 205; her professional popularity, 205; Alfred de Musset's lament for, 205, 206; her envy of Sontag, in "Romeo and Juliet," 201.
Malahide, Lord Talbot de, 346.
Malkin, Arthur, 84.
Malkin, Benjamin, 84.
Malkin, Charles, 84.
Malkin, Dr. and Mrs., 82, 110.
Malkin, Frederick, 84.
Malkins, the, 183.
"Malvolio, thou art sick of conceit," 435.
Manchester, the Kembles in "The Gamester," 204, 277; railway between and Liverpool, 278, 284, 291, 303.
Maple, Durham, the vicar of, 229.
Marc Antonio, cast of his skull mistaken for Raphael's, 528.
Marcet, Mrs., 332, 341.
Mariana, Fanny Kemble as, 377.
Mario (M. de Candee), intimate friend of Henry Greville, 497.
Marriage, sombre thoughts about, 436.
Marriage, talk about, 423.
Mars, Mlle., 90, 258, 420; in the heroine of "Henri Trois," 484, 564, 565.
"Marseillaise," Mme. Rachel's rendering of, 436.
Martineau's, Harriet, "Each and All," 570; Channing's opinion of her writings, 578.
Mary Copp, Mrs. Bradshaw in, 396.
"Mary Stuart," 267, 284; reasons for not playing, 370, 549.
Maurice, Frederick, 183.
Mason, "Self-Knowledge," 169; in Romeo, 200; son of Charles Kemble's sister, 259; first appearance as Romeo, 421; discussion about Kean, 429; speech to the Bristol audience about helping Brunton in his troubles, 433; the King in "Francis I.," 508, 510.
Mason, Miss, 263.
Massinger, "Maid of Honor," 255, 257; "Fatal Dowry," 318; "Maid of Honor" proposed for Fanny Kemble's "benefit," 358; plays compared with some others, 389.
Master Walter, character in "The Hunchback," 377.
Mathews, Charles, 39, 170.
Mayow, Mrs., 322.
Maxwell, 157; anecdote of one of that family, 261.
Mayo, Mrs., a brave woman, 471.
McLaren, Duncan, 158.
Meadows, Mr. Drinkwater, 505.
Megrin, St., 420.
Melbourne, Lord (William Lamb), 45, 46, 47, 347, 357.
"Merchant of Venice," 248.
Mellon, Miss (see St. Albans, Duchess of).
Mendelssohn, 96, 507.
"Merchant of Venice," 119, 351.
Mercutio, 483; Charles Kemble in, after his sickness, 480
Mersey, the, its ancient wanderings, 282.
Meteoric lights, 145.
Meyerbeer's "Robert the Devil," 507.
Mill, John S., 122; John Kemble's admiration for, 180.
Millais' picture of Trelawney as the "Old Sea Captain," 582.
Milnes, Richard M., 183.
Milman, Mrs., 184.
Milman's "Fazio," 323, 331; his pleasure at Fanny Kemble's rendering of Bianca in "Fazio," 334, 341, 390; to review "Francis I." in Quarterly Review, simultaneously with its appearance on the stage, 502.
Milton, 36, 273; compared with Byron, 331; Channing's essay on, 337; Mrs. Siddons' admiration for, 416.
Miranda, 252, 269.
Mitchell, charge of all Fanny Kemble's readings in America, 224.
Mitford, Mary Russell, 45; "Inez de Castro," 323; negotiations with management of Covent Garden about "Inez de Castro," 354; "Our Village," 416.
Monceaux Parc, 63.
Monckton Miss (Lady Cork), 379.
Monk's Grove, 418.
Mons Meg, a famous old gun, 162.
Monson, Lady, 397, 400.
Montagu, Mr. and Mrs., 124.
Montagu, Mrs., "Our Lady of Bitterness," 126; crediting others with her wise and witty sayings, 127, 178, 353, 401.
Montagu Place, 267.
Monte Rosa, 85.
Montpensier, Mlle, de, 113.
Moore, Mrs. Thomas, 159.
Moore, Tom, 173; "Life of Byron," 330, 415.
Morne Mountains, 273.
Moral Training, 165.
Morgan, Lady, Irish jig, 269; French Revolution, 276.
Moscheles, 321, 395.
Mott, Lucretia, 543.
Mount Vernon, 567.
Mozart's "Nozze," 159.
Mrs. Beverley, 245, 246, 290.
Mrs. Haller, Fanny Kemble in, 315; her success in, 317, 323, 325; dress of, 327.
Mrs. Oakley, costume for, 364, 385.
"Much Ado about Nothing," 518.
Mulgrave, Lord, 562.
Murphy, Mrs. Jameson's father, 127; "Grecian Daughter," 236, 238.
Murray, Lord, 142.
Murray, Wm., 142; joint proprietor of Edinburgh Theatre, 142, 159; his generous price for "Francis I.," 244, 309; publishes Fanny Kemble's poems and plays, 314, 324, 332, 334; L4000 for "Francis I.," 355, 482; publishing "The Star of Seville," and "Francis I.," 497; publishes John Kemble's Anglo-Saxon book, 502.
Musset, Alfred de, "lament for Malibran," 205, 206.
Music, modern and ancient, 500.
Mussy, Dr. Gueneau de, 566.
Naples, King of, 271; talk of, 421.
Napoleon, Louis, 63.
Napoleon, Duke of Reichstadt, death of, 557.
Nature, love of, 501.
Negroes, prejudice against, 542.
Netherlands, revolt in, 294.
Neukomm, 321, 395.
Newgate, Fanny Kemble's visit to, 413; Mrs. Fry's visits to, ib.
Newman Street, 8.
Newton, "Cardiphonia," 169.
Newton, Stewart, anecdotes of, Royal Academy, 393.
Newton, Gilbert Stewart, "Creaking Door," 573.
New Year, 1832, 485.
New York, first sight of, 533; compared with Paris, 535; fires in, 537; water in, 537, 540.
Niagara, Falls of, 579, 581.
Nightingale, Florence, 127.
Nilsson, Mlle., 202.
Noeel, Sir Gerard, 372.
Norton, Mrs., 47.
Norton, George, 174.
Norton, Mrs., anecdote with Hook, 171, 175, 345, 357, 414, 480; Hayter's picture, 487, 496, 504, 510.
Normandy, Lord, 176.
"Notre Dame de Paris," 498; "bad in tendency and shocking in detail," 499.
Notter, Mr., 372.
Nottingham Castle, 461.
Nugent, Lady, 216.
Oatlands, 81, 396, 402, 403, 421, 467, 470.
"Oberon," 94, 99.
"Old Plays" compared with "The Gamester," and "Grecian Daughter," 385.
O'Neill, Miss, 84, 195; appearance, 196; in "Evadne, or the Statue," and "The Apostate," 312; Fanny Kemble compared with, 234.
Otway's "Venice Preserved," 235.
Ottley and Saunders, 319.
Owen, the philanthropist, 316.
Paganini, 416, 434, 466.
Panizzi, 267, 546.
"Paradise Lost," 59.
Pasta, Mme., 428, 441; Pasta's Medea, 400; Anna Bolena, 444.
Pasta's daughter, 181.
Paton, Miss, 97, 98, 437.
Patti, Adalina, 163.
"Paul Clifford," 286.
Peaches, in America, 559.
Peacock, Mr., 110, 119.
"Pedro the Cruel," 354.
"Peerage and Peasantry, Tales of the," 348.
Percival, Mr., in House of Commons, 498.
Peterborough, Earl of, marriage to Anastasia Robinson, 437.
Petrarch's sonnets, 346.
Philippe, Mons., 64, 65.
Phillips, Miss, 464.
Phrenological Museum, 527.
Pickersgill, portrait of Fanny Kemble, 362; portrait of Charles Kemble in Macbeth, 366; picture "Medora," 390.
Plague, the, 308.
Plessis, Mlle., 258.
Plymouth, 416, 443, 444; farewell to, 44
Plymouth Rock, 426.
Poitier, 66; in the "Vaudeville," 483.
Poland, discussion between Charles Kemble and Kean, 440; early history of, 495.
Poles, the, 359.
Polly, Miss Sheriff as, 471.
Ponsonby, Miss, 345.
Poole, Miss, as Tom Thumb, 480.
Portia, 187; Fanny Kemble's first appearance as, 247, 248; character of, 248; costumes of, 249, 336, 352; compared with Camiola, 367, 397, 414; at Bristol, 431, 532.
Portmore Park, 388.
Power, Mr., 485.
Power, Tyrone, 489.
Princes Street, incident with Scott on, 262.
Procter, Adelaide, her "doomed" appearance, 499; reading description of Esmeralda and sketch of Quasimodo's life, 499, 516.