And after the funeral, when the papers of the city attempted to sum up the city's loss, it was specially fitting that from the pen of a neighbor we should have this testimony: "For fifty years this good lady has blessed our city." To these abundant witnesses to Mrs. Sigourney's noble goodness, we can only add that of her personal friend, S. G. Goodrich, who was, also, extensively acquainted with the best characters of the generation to which she belonged: "No one whom I know can look back upon a long and earnest career of such unblemished beneficence." And how can we better close this too brief sketch of this honored woman, than in the words in which she so well has announced the imperishable fame of the gifted Mrs. Hemans: "Therefore, we will not say In all the temples of her sanctity; And the young child shall take thee by the hand MRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE. BY JAMES PARTON. THERE was excitement and expectation among the playgoers of New York, in the early days of September, 1832. Stars, new to the firmament of America, were about to appear, a great event in those simple days, when Europe supplied us with almost all we ever had of public pleasure. Charles Kemble, brother of Mrs. Siddons the peerless, and of John Kemble the magnificent, was coming to America, accompanied by his daughter, "Fanny Kemble," the most brilliant of the recent acquisitions to the London stage. Charles Kemble was then an exceedingly stout gentleman, of fiftyseven, fitter to shine in Falstaff than in Hamlet; yet such is the power of genuine talent to overcome the obstacles which nature herself puts in its way, that he still played with fine effect some of the lightest and most graceful characters of the drama. He played Hamlet well, and Benedick better, when he must have weighed two hundred and fifty pounds; and people forgot, in admiring the charm of his manner, and the noble beauty of his face, that he had passed his prime. His daughter, at this period, was just twenty-one years of age, and stood midway in her brief and splendid theatrical career, which had begun two years before, and was to end two years after. The play selected for the first appearance of the young actress in America was Fazio. The old Park theatre was the place. It was the evening of Tuesday, September the 18th, 1832. Charles Kemble had appeared the night before to a crowded house in his favorite part of IIamlet, which he performed with that finish and thoroughness characteristic of all the family of the Kembles. On this evening the house was still more crowded, and the weather was oppressively warm. At half past six Miss Kemble went to the theatre to prepare for the ordeal before her. To give time for the audience to assemble and settle in their seats, the farce of Popping the Question was first performed. It was a night of mishaps. When she reached the theatre, she discovered that the actor (a novice from London) who was to play the principal male part in the tragedy of Fazio was so completely terror-stricken at the prospect before him that he gasped for breath, and he excited the pity, even more than the alarm, of the lady whose performance he was about to mar. She did her best to reassure him, but with small success. When they were about to take their place upon the stage just before the curtain rose, he was in an absolute panic, and appeared to be choking with mere fright. She hastily brought him some lemonade to swallow, and was immediately obliged to take her place with him in the scene. According to the custom of actresses who play the chief part in Fazio, she sat with her back to the audience. The curtain rose. As the back of one young lady bears a striking resemblance to that of another, and as she was dressed with perfect plainness, the audience did not recognize her, and remained silent. The actor supporting her, who had calculated upon the usual noisy reception, and was still in the last extremity of terror, stood stock still gazing at the heroine, evidently waiting for the audience to do their part before he began his. The hint was taken at length, or, probably, some friends of the lady recognized her, and then the whole assembly clapped their hands and used their voices, according to the established custom on such occasions. Her reception, indeed, was in the highest degree cordial, such as New York has ever delighted to bestow upon distinguished talent, from whatever part of the world it may have come. The play began. The frightened actor broke down in his second speech. Miss Kemble prompted him, but he was too completely terrified to understand her, and he spoiled the situation. This happened so frequently that the great actress was prevented, not merely from exerting her powers, but from fixing her mind upon her part at all; for, what with prompting her distracted Fazio, and his total obliviousness of what actors call "the business" of the scene, she became at length almost as much frightened as he was, and she thought that her total and ignominious failure was inevitable. It is a curious thing, however, that a performer upon the stage may be enduring a martyrdom of this kind, and scarcely a soul in the audience suspect it. I remember once being close to the stage when Edwin Booth was playing Hamlet, and the king was so intoxicated that it was with real difficulty that he kept himself upright upon his throne, and he had to be prompted at every other word. Mr. Booth was on the rack during the whole of the first scene in which he appears, and kept up a running fire of the most emphatic observations upon the conduct of his royal uncle. It was with the greatest difficulty that the scene was carried on; and yet, I was informed by persons in front of the house, that they had not observed anything extraordinary, except that the king was ä very bad actor, which in that part is as far as possible from being extraordinary. And so it was with Miss Kemble. She struggled through the first two acts with her miserable Fazio. She was rid of him at the beginning of the third act, and from that time began to play with freedom and effect. Her success was comolete. Every point of that intense and passionate perform ance was heartily applauded, and when the curtain went down at the close of the fifth act, she was summoned to reappear as vociferously as heart could wish. This was the beginning of a most brilliant and successful engagement in New York. Here, as everywhere, her crowning triumph was in the part of Julia, in Sheridan Knowles' play of the Hunchback, a play which was written expressly for her, and in which she gained her greatest London success. Most of those telling "points," which are repeated by every actress whenever this play is performed, were originated by Miss Kemble, and never failed, or can fail, to produce a powerful effect upon an audience whenever they are respectably made. This young lady came rightly by her dramatic talent. She was a member of a family which, for three generations, had contributed to the English stage its brightest ornaments. Roger Kemble, the first of the family who is known to fame, born in 1721, himself an actor and manager, was the father of twelve children, five of whom embraced his profession and became eminent in it. His eldest child, Sarah Kemble, married at the age of eighteen an actor of a country company, named Siddons, and became the greatest actress that ever lived. John Philip Kemble, the eldest son of Roger, was perhaps, upon the whole, the greatest actor of modern times. George Stephen Kemble, another son of the country manager, was also an excellent actor, and is now remembered chiefly for his performance of Falstaff, which he was fat enough to play without stuffing. Elizabeth Kemble, a sister of Mrs. Siddons, married an actor named Whitlock, with whom she came to the United States, where she rose to the first position on the stage, and had the honor of performing before General Washington and the other great men of that day. She made a fortune in America, and retired to England in 1807 to enjoy it. Finally, there was Charles Kemble, the |