no more!--And he, who, in histrionic art, could so well depict the final pangs of nature, has been called on in turn to act the part in sad reality. I have seen the physician who attended him, and, anxious to obtain particulars of the latter days of so great and worthy a character, for my own satisfaction, and for your information, I hastily subjoin the result. On Sunday, the 23d instant, he was, in his own estimation, so very comfortable, that, on sending away his hair-dresser, he requested that he would say to his friend, Mr. Precote, that it would give him plea sure to learn, that after the operation of shaving, his friend was as well as he was. In fact, he seemed on that day in particularly good spirits. The next morning he rose apparently quite well,-breakfasted at nine, and subsequently went to an adjoining room to speak to Mrs. Kemble; and then returning to his room, was observed to totter in his gait.-Mrs. Kemble noticed this with anxiety, and assisted him to his chair, and when seated, he took up a number of Galignani's Messenger; but getting worse, his friend and physician Dr. Schole was sent for; who arrived instantly, and found him in the position described, but already altered, and exhibiting very unfavourable symptoms-his left side had suffered a decided attack, and he could with difficulty articulate. He seemed ex tremely anxious to spare the feelings of Mrs. Kemble. Dr. Schole, with the assistance of his old attached servant George, helped him to his bed, and, in the act of conducting him there, a second attack took place, so suddenly, that his clothes were obliged to be cut asunder, in order that he might the more speedily be let blood. But nature was fast exhausting; nor could he ever make use of his speech after a few words which he had uttered on Dr. Schole's arrival. He, however, assented or dissented by signs of the head, until within two hours of his complete extinction. His last intelligible words were "George, George;" and you may imagine the feelings of an attached servant to an excellent master under such circumstances. In fine, a third attack, on Wednesday the 26th instant, just forty-eight hours after the first, proved fatal; and though to a stranger he might appear to suffer, it is the opinion of the doctor that he was long insensible to acute feelings of pain. The English clergyman was also present. Lausanne had agreed with Mr. Kemble-and it was believed by his friends that he was fast recovering from the fatal effects of his visit to Italy. His death, however, was near at hand;-aud the true particulars of his last illness are these. On Wednesday, the 19th of February, Mr. Kemble dined at the house of a friend in the neighbourhood, and was observed to be in extremely good spirits; a few friends drank tea with him on the following eveningwhen he played his rubber (to which he was very partial), and appeared in excellent health. On the Sunday after this day, Mr. Kemble walked for two hours in the sunshine of his garden, and no sign of illness was remarked. He arose on the following morning as well as usual, and conversed with Mrs. Kemble on indifferent matters; when, according to his usual custom, he read a chapter in his Bible. He again joined Mrs. Kemble in the breakfast room, and said to her, "Don't be alarmed, my dear, I have had a slight attack of apoplexy." Mrs. Kemble was naturally very much terrified, and Dr. Schole was accordingly sent for; who, in a short time, arrived at Beausite, and bled Mr. Kemble himself. One attack, however, succeeded another so rapidly, that Mr. Kemble never spoke afterwards; though he seemed perfectly sensible at intervals. Until nine o'clock on Wednesday morning he lingered in this speechless state, when he died without any apparent suffering. Thus died this amiable and intellectual man-full of years and honour, in a distant land!.. The funeral took place on Saturday the 1st of March, in a piece of ground adjoining the cemeterie, on the Berne Road, procured under the direction of Mrs. Kemble. Mr. Capel, and several English, are here interred. The Dean of Raphoe, who had lately returned to Lausanne, read the funeral service at the house of Mr. Keinble; and Mr. Cheesebrough, the resident clergyman, performed the melancholy ceremony at the grave. The age of sixty-six was recorded on the coffin. Mr. Cheesebrough read prayers to Mr. Kemble when he could attend to them-and was with him when he died. The death of Mr. Kemble was sincerely felt by all persons at Lausanne, and his remains were followed to the grave by all the resident English, and by many of the Swiss. English, indeed, had no parties during the week-and one foreign lady of fashion, Madame ——, put off a splendid party on account of Mr. Kemble's decease. The The following is a copy of the let ter of the English clergyman resident at Lausanne, which has not been made public; but which to us is interesting, inasmuch as it shows the serenity and virtue of Mr. Kemble's domestic life, and confirms the religious peace of his death. The letter is addressed to a professional gentleman in London. Lausanne, February 25, 1823. Sir,-It is with deep regret that I announce to you an affliction, and sudden event, the decease of Mr. Kemble, who breathed his last at a quarter past nine o'clock this morning. He had been seized with an apoplectic attack about forty-eight hours before his death; and, though it was not of any very alarming nature at first, yet it was no less fatal, and he gradually declined, till, without a single sigh or groan, his soul, released from its earthly tenement, returned to Him who gave it. During a week or more prior to this attack, his health seemed more satisfactory than for months before, so that poor Mrs. Kemble was very ill provided for so unexpected a blow, and consequently has been in such a distressed state as I cannot pretend to describe. She is, indeed, much indisposed at present, from the effects of a violent nervous attack, which seized her when all our fears of her husband were confirmed; but in a little time I have no doubt but a sense of her religious duties, in addition to her excellent understanding, will conduce to her amendment and resignation. To you, Sir, no comments on this excellent man's character here are necessary. I will only say, that he was universally beloved by both his countrymen and natives, and that I am deprived of, in my little flock, a most pious and worthy member-but God's will be done! We are naturally grieved at the loss of what was ever amiable, excellent, and of good report, as a standing example to all around; but, how great, on reflexion, should be our joy, that the feeble praise of man is succeeded by the immortal honour and approving smile of the best and greatest of all beings? I was with him during the greater part of his last hours, and at the final close; and, on commending his soul to his gracious keeping, whose blood and mediatorial power could alone present it spotless before God, I could not avoid secretly exclaiming, "Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my latter end be like his.' It is by Mrs. Kemble's desire that I write to you, who, with her kindest regards, begs you will take upon you, as early as possible, the painful task of communicating it to Miss Siddons, and gradually to prepare Mrs. Siddons for such an afflicting stroke, in order that she may not first learn it from any other quarter. Mrs. Kemble's poignancy is increased, on considering what will be the agonizing feelings of Mrs. Siddons, but calculates much on your kind attention herein. I have written to Mr. Charles Kemble by this post. I beg my respectful compliments to Mrs. Siddons; and having now hastily fulfilled my truly painful duty, I have the honour to remain, &c. &c. In reading this letter we cannot but feel struck with that passage which details the pious close of the existence of such a man as Mr. Kemble, who had passed a maddening, distracting day of fame, and could scarcely be expected to tame down into the careful and unassuming observer of a religious and retired life. He who was almost adored in the temple of fame-became, it is seen, loved in the domestic house! It was his custom, as we have shown, to read a chapter in the Bible every morning. To Mrs. Siddons the loss must be indeed poignant, irreparable! She, and her brother John Kemble, had seen the same sun rise upon their fame-had gathered laurels from the same tree! They lived in glory together. They retired from public life nearly at the same time. She always appeared to us to be the only actress worthy to mate him in the drama. The same crown taken from Tragedy's forehead fitted both their brows. We never remember, in our time, any actor who acquired so much popularity as John Kemble; he bore the young lovers of the drama along with him like a clan, and they always seemed ready to fight for the supremacy of his genius. The first rows of the pit were nightly crowded with his youthful followers-and they hailed him as the clansmen hail their chief. His very defects were doted upon, the laboured precision of his voice-the measured solemnity of his action - the feebleness arising from his constitutional malady, Those who would read tragedy, read it as he delivered it; Tragedy reigned in solemn grandeur then for the broken starts and rapid familiarities of the new school were in Kemble's bright time unknown. He just saw, before his retirement, the dawn of Mr. Kean's genius in the new dramatic world; but this did not take from the rich and grand light of his own setting!-We have, in our early play-days, seen John Kemble with a delight which will never visit us again! We have thrilled on his inspired nights. We have listened with almost breathless awe, at the times when he has been cold as marble with illness. We have venerated his very cough! Oh! that we could hear him again!-But John Kemble is dead! Mr. Kean may triumph in his vehement line of hurried nature-Mr. Young may engraft the new upon the old style, and strive to triumph in both-Mr. Macready may "fright the isle from her propriety;"-but we, though we may be scared into forgetfulness for the moment, can never find that "oblivious antidote, " which will banish for ever our first classic favourite from our minds. His majestic form and noble powers will rise up in our memories, and assert, with conscious pride and fearless confidence, the measureless superiority of JOHN KEMBLE ! ❤ Some public testimony of respect to this great actor has been very properly talked of; and indeed Lord Holland, Lord Aberdeen, Sir James Mackintosh, and a few other eminent characters, have taken some steps for effecting such an object. Such talents ought, indeed, so to be honoured. We should conceive that the best way would be to call a meeting for the purpose-when, we are confident, the subscription for a monument would be filled in a day. THE MISCELLANY. THE FLOOD OF THESSALY, THE GIRL OF PROVENCE, AND OTHER We are enabled to gratify our readers with a few extracts from Mr. Barry Cornwall's new volume of Poems; neither our time nor our limits will allow us at this late moment to enter critically into the volume. We must, however, say, that we think it the very best work by far which has yet come from the author's pen. In an early number we hope to return to the subject. And there the serpent, which few hours ago Could crack the panther in his scaly arms, Lay lifeless, like a weed, beside his prey. And now, all o'er the deeps corpses were strewn, Wide-floating millions, like the rubbish flung Forth when a plague prevails; the rest down-sucked, Sank, buried in the world-destroying seas. (The Flood of Thessaly, p. 30—32.) He took her, gently, in his radiant arms, And breathed on her, and bore her through the air, Hushing from time to time her sweet alarms, And whispering still that one so good and fair . And from the clustering boughs the night. ingale Sang her lament; while on a reedy stream, Which murmured and far off was heard to fall, The swan went sailing by, like a white dream; And somewhere near did the lone cuckoo call, But none made answer; and his amorous theme The thrush loud uttered till it spoke of pain; And many a creature sang, but seemed to sing in vain. There, rich with fruits, the tree of Paradise (The plantain) spread its large and slender leaves, And there the pictur'd palm was seen to rise, And trembling aspen, and the tree that grieves, (The willow) and sun-flowers like golden sheaves; And roses, laden with the breath of June. The lady lily paler than the moon, (The Girl of Provence, p. 94-97.) When first I saw her-(young Olympia!) She lived not far from Florence. One may stray Unto the valley where her cottage stood To fragments, pine and oak; and ash was there Which leaves its offspring berries to the I saw forgiveness'twas in fancy this) And smiles that recognized my vanished bliss As a thing risen from the grave, and bright I dream-I dream-I dream Of shadow and light,-of pleasure and pain, And I see the 'Is' and the' was' the same, Are shadowed by leaves of the branching And I hear the yells of a million more, Whose sins are all written in stripes and gore: There's one who the gem of his best friend stole, And a King half-hid in a beggar's soul, And a Poet who lied for his earthly good, And a Woman of glass, and a God of wood, (Wrapped round like the idol-beast that treads With murderous scorn on the Hindoos' heads. (The Fall of Saturn, p. 163, 164.) Spirit. You come to see Guiomar. I come to visit To look upon your pale society. Her incantations from the dreaming winds, The wealth of an Arabian wizard's brain, Accents drawn from the thunder,-from eclipse; Interpretations of the rebel hills, When Earth was in her anarchy; from blasts That blow hot death: From waves that kiss the clouds ; From clouds that spit their spite out on gray hairs; From the dumb ice; from rains and hurricane : : Thus am I armed, dull Spirit; and beside With poisonous unguents which no man uncharmed Can touch and die not; and with drops, like gall, Wrung from the adder when its hate was Parricide tears; and rich Egyptian dust And bore on 'ts swarthy brow a jagged crown. What more ? (Tartarus, p. 184, 185.) LAW OF THE LEGISLATURE OF SOUTH CAROLINA, AGAINST DUELLING. "If any person or persons resident in, or being a citizen of, this state, shall fight a duel, or shall send or give, or accept a challenge to fight a duel, or shall cause any such challenge to be sent, given, or accepted, within this state, or within the limits of the United States, his or their seconds, and all and every other person or persons, directly or indirectly concerned in fighting any duel, or sending, giving, accepting, or carrying, or conveying any such challenge, their counsellors, aiders, and abettors, upon being thereof convicted, in any court having jurisdiction, shall be imprisoned for twelve months, and shall severally forfeit and pay a fine of two thousand dollars to the use of the state, and shall stand committed until such fine is paid, and until he or they shall severally give ample security, to be approved of by one of the associate judges of this state, in the sum of two thousand dollars, for his perpetual good behaviour, and shall for ever be disqualified from holding any office of profit or trust, in, or under this state, or from practising law, physic, or divinity, within this state. RICHARDSON. "Alas! my life has been a trifling to literature, from a man of busibusy one," says Richardson, "I ness! Hear it, ye slaves, who never found time to read all the think that money-getting is the only Spectators." A fine compliment this useful employment. |