“You have by this time, I am confident, felt many a humane pang, for the wretched sufferers in the dreadful calamity which has been visited on me and those most dear to me. The losses to the Proprietors are incalculable, irreparable, and of all the precious and curious dresses and lace and jewels which I have been collecting for these thirty years—not one, no, not one article has escap’d! The most grievous of these my losses is a piece of Lace which had been a Toilette of the poor Queen of France; it was upwards of four yards long, and more than a yard wide. It never could have been bought for a thousand pounds, but that’s the least regret. It was so interesting!! But oh! let me not suffer myself in the ingratitude of repining, while there are so many reasons for thankful acknowledgment. My Brothers, God be praised! did not hear of the fire till ev’ry personal exertion would have been utterly useless. It is as true as it is strange and awful, that everything appear’d to be in perfect Security at Two o’clock, and that at six (the time my poor brother saw it) the whole structure was as completely swept from the face of the earth as if such a thing had never existed. Thank God that it was so, since had it been otherwise, he wou’d probably have perished in exertions to preserve something from the terrible wreck of his property. This is comfort. And you, my noble-minded friend, wou’d, I am confident, participate the joy I feel, in beholding this ador’d brother, Stemming this torrent of adversity with a manly fortitude, Serenity, and even hope, that almost bursts my heart with an admiration too big to bear, and blinds my eyes with the most delicious tears that ever fell from my eyes. Oh! he is a glorious creature! did not I always tell you so? Yes, yes, and all will go well with him again! She bears it like an Angel too. Lord Guilford and Lord Mountjoy have nobly offer’d to raise him any sum of money—and a thousand instances of generous feeling have already offer’d that evince the goodness of human nature, and its Sense of his worth. All this is so honorable to him, that I shall soon feel little regret except for the poor beings who perished in the devouring fire.
“James Ballantyne—God bless and prosper all the desires and designs of a heart so amiable, a head so sound! prays most fervently his truly affectionate friend,
“S. Siddons.”
“My head is so confused I scarce know what I have written; but you wish’d me to answer your kind letter immediately, therefore excuse all defects.”
The result of John Kemble’s thirty years of hard service was swept away in the flames that destroyed Covent Garden. Mr. Heathcote’s loan was still unpaid. Boaden gives us a tragi-comic account of a visit he paid at the Kembles’ house the morning after the fire. Mrs. Kemble loudly expressing her sorrow. Charles Kemble sitting listening, a tragic expression on his naturally melancholy face; John shaving himself before the glass. “Yes,” he said to his visitor in the intervals of this operation, “it has perished—that magnificent theatre! It is gone, with all its treasures of every description; that library, which contained all those immortal productions of our countrymen; that wardrobe; the scenery. Of all this vast treasure, nothing now remains but the arms of England over the entrance of the theatre, and the Roman eagle standing solitary in the market-place.”
All differences which were said to have arisen between brother and sister were sunk and forgotten in this crisis. Though she may have smiled at his sententiousness, and snubbed Mrs. Kemble’s loud-voiced expressions of grief, she now gave him efficient help in reconstituting the theatre. The performances of the company were transferred first to the Opera House, and afterwards to the Haymarket Theatre. Between September 12th, 1808, and May 6th, 1809, she acted forty times. The wear and tear of this on a woman of her years—she was now over fifty—must have been great indeed. All seemed to turn to her, to depend on her masculine strength of will and energy.
Beside the anxiety of her profession, we find her occupied with the future of her children. Letter after letter could be quoted, showing the affectionate and practical interest she took in their welfare, in spite of the statement circulated, and believed in, that she bargained and haggled with her son Henry as though he were some manager with whom she was doing business. She wrote on November 26th, 1808, to Mr. Ingles on the subject of an expedition to Edinburgh, to help her son in his theatrical venture there:—
“Independently of any other consideration, it is a great object to me to have a reasonable excuse for spending much of my remaining life in the admired and beloved society of Scotland; I am therefore, on my own account as well as his, naturally anxious for the Success of my Son in the Theatre, and I think I may without arrogance aver that you cou’d not chuse better. He has great qualifications and wou’d not be the worse, I apprehend, for my advice in respect to Dramatic business, or for the pecuniary aid which I should be proud to afford in order to amplify the costume of The Stage. His abilities as an Actor need not my eulogium, and his private respectability is so universally acknowledged as to spare his mother the pain of boasting. I have done my part, and trust the rest to heaven! I have written to all you advis’d me to write to, and now in one word let me thank you for your good counsel and assure you that whatever be the result I shall for ever consider myself exceedingly oblig’d to you. So much ambiguity and darkness seems to envelop the business (the Galindo embroglio), however, that I know not what to wish—but that there was an end of both hopes and fears; since nothing is so insupportable as Suspense.”
Those who serve the public have much to suffer from the caprices of the crowd, but they also experience many proofs of the appreciation of their genius by individuals. The Kembles met with instances of kindness and friendliness at the moment of their need that strike one as almost fabulous in their generosity. The Duke of Northumberland offered Kemble a loan of ten thousand pounds on his simple bond. He hesitated to accept, fearing his inability to pay the interest. The Duke promised he should never be pressed for it, and on the day of the laying the first stone he cancelled the bond, and made him a present of the whole sum.
Aided by the munificence of patrons, fifty thousand pounds was soon subscribed; nearly the same amount was received from the insurance companies, and on December 30th, 1808, the first stone was laid with Masonic honours. John Kemble was not a person to do away with the pomp of a ceremonial. All the actors and actresses were assembled; Mrs. Siddons, wearing a nodding plume of ominous black feathers, while her brother, who had risen from his sick bed, stood under the torrents of rain in white silk stockings and pumps.