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margin-bottom: 0;} + .nogap {margin-top: 0;} + .blurb {margin: 0 10% 1em 5%; font-size: 80%;} + +/*********************************************************** + end +************************************************************/ + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Records of a Girlhood, by Frances Ann Kemble + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Records of a Girlhood + +Author: Frances Ann Kemble + +Release Date: August 8, 2005 [EBook #16478] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RECORDS OF A GIRLHOOD *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Louise Pryor and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<div class="transnote"> +<h3>Transcriber's note</h3> +<p>The spellings in this book are inconsistent in the original, and +have not been corrected except in the index, as explicitly noted <a +href="#ind_note" >below</a>.</p> +</div> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px; border: 1px solid; +margin-top: 3em;"> +<img class="biggap" src="images/frontis.jpg" width="260" height="500" alt="Fanny Kemble" title="" /> +</div> + + +<h1>Records of a Girlhood</h1> + +<p class="center biggap">BY</p> + +<p class="center biggest gap">FRANCES ANN KEMBLE</p> + +<p class="center biggap"><i>SECOND EDITION.</i></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 133px;"> +<img class="biggap" src="images/img002.png" width="133" height="150" alt="Decorative image" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="center biggap">NEW YORK<br /> + +HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY<br /> + +1880.</p> + + +<hr /> + +<p class="center gap">COPYRIGHT, 1879, +BY +HENRY HOLT & CO. +</p> + +<p class="biggap" style="margin-left: 15%;"> +<span class="smcap">John A. Gray</span>, Agent,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Type-Setting Machinery,<br /> +16 & 18 Jacob Street,<br /> +New York.</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="PREFATORY_NOTE" id="PREFATORY_NOTE"></a>PREFATORY NOTE.</h2> + + +<p style="margin-left:15%;margin-right:15%">Considerable portions of this work originally appeared in the <i>Atlantic +Monthly</i>, but there is added to these a large amount of new matter not +hitherto published, and the whole work has been thoroughly revised.</p> +<hr /> + +<!-- not in original: added to aid navigation --> +<p class="center gap"> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">I</a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">II</a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">III</a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV</a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">V</a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI</a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII</a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII</a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX</a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">X</a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI</a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII</a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII</a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV</a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV</a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI</a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII</a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII</a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX</a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">XX</a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">XXI</a> +<a href="#INDEX">Index</a> +</p> + +<p><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1" ></a><span class="pagenum">[1]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 243px;"> +<a href="images/cover2.jpg"><img src="images/title.jpg" width="243" +height="90" alt="Book cover: Records of a Girlhood Frances Anne Kemble" +title="Book cover: Records of a Girlhood Frances Anne Kemble" +style="border:none; margin-top: 5em; margin-bottom: 2em;" /></a> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + + +<p>A few years ago I received from a friend to whom they had been addressed +a collection of my own letters, written during a period of forty years, +and amounting to thousands—a history of my life.</p> + +<p>The passion for universal history (<i>i.e.</i> any and every body's story) +nowadays seems to render any thing in the shape of personal +recollections good enough to be printed and read; and as the public +appetite for gossip appears to be insatiable, and is not unlikely some +time or other to be gratified at my expense, I have thought that my own +gossip about myself may be as acceptable to it as gossip about me +written by another.</p> + +<p>I have come to the garrulous time of life—to the remembering days, +which only by a little precede the forgetting ones. I have much leisure, +and feel sure that it will amuse me to write my own reminiscences; +perhaps reading them may amuse others who have no more to do than I +have. To the idle, then, I offer these lightest of leaves gathered in +the idle end of autumn days, which have succeeded years of labor often +severe and sad enough, though its ostensible purpose was only that of +affording recreation to the public.</p> + + +<p class="gaplet">There are two lives of my aunt Siddons: one by Boaden, and one by the +poet Campbell. In these biographies due mention is made of my paternal +grandfather and grandmother. To the latter, Mrs. Roger Kemble, I am +proud to see, by Lawrence's portrait of her, I bear a personal +resemblance; and I please myself with imagining that the likeness is +more than "skin deep." She was an energetic, brave woman, who, in the +humblest sphere of life and most difficult circumstances, together with +her husband fought manfully a hard battle with <a name="Page_2" id="Page_2" ></a><span class="pagenum">[2]</span>poverty, in maintaining +and, as well as they could, training a family of twelve children, of +whom four died in childhood. But I am persuaded that whatever qualities +of mind or character I inherit from my father's family, I am more +strongly stamped with those which I derive from my mother, a woman who, +possessing no specific gift in such perfection as the dramatic talent of +the Kembles, had in a higher degree than any of them the peculiar +organization of genius. To the fine senses of a savage rather than a +civilized nature, she joined an acute instinct of correct criticism in +all matters of art, and a general quickness and accuracy of perception, +and brilliant vividness of expression, that made her conversation +delightful. Had she possessed half the advantages of education which she +and my father labored to bestow upon us, she would, I think, have been +one of the most remarkable persons of her time.</p> + +<p>My mother was the daughter of Captain Decamp, an officer in one of the +armies that revolutionary France sent to invade republican Switzerland. +He married the daughter of a farmer from the neighborhood of Berne. From +my grandmother's home you could see the great Jungfrau range of the +Alps, and I sometimes wonder whether it is her blood in my veins that so +loves and longs for those supremely beautiful mountains.</p> + +<p>Not long after his marriage my grandfather went to Vienna, where, on the +anniversary of the birth of the great Empress-King, my mother was born, +and named, after her, Maria Theresa. In Vienna, Captain Decamp made the +acquaintance of a young English nobleman, Lord Monson (afterwards the +Earl of Essex), who, with an enthusiasm more friendly than wise, eagerly +urged the accomplished Frenchman to come and settle in London, where his +talents as a draughtsman and musician, which were much above those of a +mere amateur, combined with the protection of such friends as he could +not fail to find, would easily enable him to maintain himself and his +young wife and child.</p> + +<p>In an evil hour my grandfather adopted this advice, and came to England. +It was the time when the emigration of the French nobility had filled +London with objects of sympathy, and society with sympathizers with +their misfortunes. Among the means resorted to for assisting the many +interesting victims of the Revolution, were representations, given under +the direction of Le Texier, of Berquin's and Madame de Genlis's juvenile +dramas, by young French children. These performances, combined with his +own extraordinary readings, became one of the fashionable frenzies of +the day. I quote from Walter Scott's review of Boaden's life of my uncle +the following notice <a name="Page_3" id="Page_3" ></a><span class="pagenum">[3]</span>of Le Texier: "On one of these incidental topics we +must pause for a moment, with delighted recollection. We mean the +readings of the celebrated Le Texier, who, seated at a desk, and dressed +in plain clothes, read French plays with such modulation of voice, and +such exquisite point of dialogue, as to form a pleasure different from +that of the theatre, but almost as great as we experience in listening +to a first-rate actor. We have only to add to a very good account given +by Mr. Boaden of this extraordinary entertainment, that when it +commenced Mr. Le Texier read over the <i>dramatis personæ</i>, with the +little analysis of character usually attached to each name, using the +voice and manner with which he afterward read the part; and so accurate +was the key-note given that he had no need to name afterward the person +who spoke; the stupidest of the audience could not fail to recognize +them."</p> + +<p>Among the little actors of Le Texier's troupe, my mother attracted the +greatest share of public attention by her beauty and grace, and the +truth and spirit of her performances.</p> + +<p>The little French fairy was eagerly seized upon by admiring fine ladies +and gentlemen, and snatched up into their society, where she was fondled +and petted and played with; passing whole days in Mrs. Fitzherbert's +drawing-room, and many a half hour on the knees of her royal and +disloyal husband, the Prince Regent, one of whose favorite jokes was to +place my mother under a huge glass bell, made to cover some large group +of precious Dresden china, where her tiny figure and flashing face +produced even a more beautiful effect than the costly work of art whose +crystal covering was made her momentary cage. I have often heard my +mother refer to this season of her childhood's favoritism with the fine +folk of that day, one of her most vivid impressions of which was the +extraordinary beauty of person and royal charm of manner and deportment +of the Prince of Wales, and his enormous appetite: enormous perhaps, +after all, only by comparison with her own, which he compassionately +used to pity, saying frequently, when she declined the delicacies that +he pressed upon her, "Why, you poor child! Heaven has not blessed you +with an appetite." Of the precocious feeling and imagination of the poor +little girl, thus taken out of her own sphere of life into one so +different and so dangerous, I remember a very curious instance, told me +by herself. One of the houses where she was a most frequent visitor, and +treated almost like a child of the family, was that of Lady Rivers, +whose brother, Mr. Rigby, while in the ministry, fought a duel with some +political opponent. Mr. <a name="Page_4" id="Page_4" ></a><span class="pagenum">[4]</span>Rigby had taken great notice of the little +French child treated with such affectionate familiarity by his sister, +and she had attached herself so strongly to him that, on hearing the +circumstance of his duel suddenly mentioned for the first time, she +fainted away: a story that always reminded me of the little Spanish girl +Florian mentions in his "Mémoires d'un jeune Espagnol," who, at six +years of age, having asked a young man of upward of five and twenty if +he loved her, so resented his repeating her question to her elder sister +that she never could be induced to speak to him again.</p> + +<p>Meantime, while the homes of the great and gay were her constant resort, +the child's home was becoming sadder, and her existence and that of her +parents more precarious and penurious day by day. From my grandfather's +first arrival in London, his chest had suffered from the climate; the +instrument he taught was the flute, and it was not long before decided +disease of the lungs rendered that industry impossible. He endeavored to +supply its place by giving French and drawing lessons (I have several +small sketches of his, taken in the Netherlands, the firm, free delicacy +of which attest a good artist's handling); and so struggled on, under +the dark London sky, and in the damp, foggy, smoky atmosphere, while the +poor foreign wife bore and nursed four children.</p> + +<p>It is impossible to imagine any thing sadder than the condition of such +a family, with its dark fortune closing round and over it, and its one +little human jewel, sent forth from its dingy case to sparkle and +glitter, and become of hard necessity the single source of light in the +growing gloom of its daily existence. And the contrast must have been +cruel enough between the scenes into which the child's genius +spasmodically lifted her, both in the assumed parts she performed and in +the great London world where her success in their performance carried +her, and the poor home, where sickness and sorrow were becoming abiding +inmates, and poverty and privation the customary conditions of +life—poverty and privation doubtless often increased by the very outlay +necessary to fit her for her public appearances, and not seldom by the +fear of offending, or the hope of conciliating, the fastidious taste of +the wealthy and refined patrons whose favor toward the poor little +child-actress might prove infinitely helpful to her and to those who +owned her.</p> + +<p>The lives of artists of every description in England are not unapt to +have such opening chapters as this; but the calling of a player alone +has the grotesque element of fiction, with all the fantastic +accompaniments of sham splendor thrust into close <a name="Page_5" id="Page_5" ></a><span class="pagenum">[5]</span>companionship with the +sordid details of poverty; for the actor alone the livery of labor is a +harlequin's jerkin lined with tatters, and the jester's cap and bells +tied to the beggar's wallet. I have said artist life in England is apt +to have such chapters; artist life everywhere, probably. But it is only +in England, I think, that the full bitterness of such experience is +felt; for what knows the foreign artist of the inexorable element of +Respectability? In England alone is the pervading atmosphere of +respectability that which artists breathe in common with all other +men—respectability, that English moral climate, with its neutral tint +and temperate tone, so often sneered at in these days by its new German +title of Philistinism, so often deserving of the bitterest scorn in some +of its inexpressibly mean manifestations—respectability, the +pre-eminently unattractive characteristic of British existence, but +which, all deductions made for its vulgar alloys, is, in truth, only the +general result of the individual self-respect of individual Englishmen; +a wholesome, purifying, and preserving element in the homes and lives of +many, where, without it, the recklessness bred of insecure means and +obscure position would run miserable riot; a tremendous power of +omnipotent compression, repression, and oppression, no doubt, quite +consistent with the stern liberty whose severe beauty the people of +these islands love, but absolutely incompatible with license, or even +lightness of life, controlling a thousand disorders rampant in societies +where it does not exist; a power which, tyrannical as it is, and +ludicrously tragical as are the sacrifices sometimes exacted by it, +saves especially the artist class of England from those worst forms of +irregularity which characterize the Bohemianism of foreign literary, +artistic, and dramatic life.</p> + +<p>Of course the pleasure-and-beauty-loving, artistic temperament, which is +the one most likely to be exposed to such an ordeal as that of my +mother's childhood, is also the one liable to be most injured by it, and +to communicate through its influence peculiar mischief to the moral +nature. It is the price of peril, paid for all that brilliant order of +gifts that have for their scope the exercise of the imagination through +the senses, no less than for that crown of gifts, the poet's passionate +inspiration, speaking to the senses through the imagination.</p> + +<p>How far my mother was hurt by the combination of circumstances that +influenced her childhood I know not. As I remember her, she was a frank, +fearless, generous, and unworldly woman, and had probably found in the +subsequent independent exercise of her abilities the shield for these +virtues. How much <a name="Page_6" id="Page_6" ></a><span class="pagenum">[6]</span>the passionate, vehement, susceptible, and most +suffering nature was banefully fostered at the same time, I can better +judge from the sad vantage-ground of my own experience.</p> + +<p>After six years spent in a bitter struggle with disease and difficulties +of every kind, my grandfather, still a young man, died of consumption, +leaving a widow and five little children, of whom the eldest, my mother, +not yet in her teens, became from that time the bread-winner and sole +support.</p> + +<p>Nor was it many years before she established her claim to the +approbation of the general public, fulfilling the promise of her +childhood by performances of such singular originality as to deserve the +name of genuine artistic creations, and which have hardly ever been +successfully attempted since her time: such as "The Blind Boy" and "Deaf +and Dumb;" the latter, particularly, in its speechless power and pathos +of expression, resembling the celebrated exhibitions of Parisot and +Bigottini, in the great tragic ballets in which dancing was a +subordinate element to the highest dramatic effects of passion and +emotion expressed by pantomime. After her marriage, my mother remained +but a few years on the stage, to which she bequeathed, as specimens of +her ability as a dramatic writer, the charming English version of "La +jeune Femme colère," called "The Day after the Wedding;" the little +burlesque of "Personation," of which her own exquisitely humorous +performance, aided by her admirably pure French accent, has never been +equaled; and a play in five acts called "Smiles and Tears," taken from +Mrs. Opie's tale of "Father and Daughter."</p> + +<p>She had a fine and powerful voice and a rarely accurate musical ear; she +moved so gracefully that I have known persons who went to certain +provincial promenades frequented by her, only to see her walk; she was a +capital horsewoman; her figure was beautiful, and her face very handsome +and strikingly expressive; and she talked better, with more originality +and vivacity, than any English woman I have ever known: to all which +good gifts she added that of being a first-rate <i>cook</i>. And oh, how +often and how bitterly, in my transatlantic household tribulations, have +I deplored that her apron had not fallen on my shoulders or round my +waist! Whether she derived this taste and talent from her French blood, +I know not, but it amounted to genius, and might have made her a +pre-eminent <i>cordon bleu</i>, if she had not been the wife, and <i>cheffe</i>, +of a poor professional gentleman, whose moderate means were so +skillfully turned to account, in her provision for his modest table, +that he was accused by ill-natured people of in<a name="Page_7" id="Page_7" ></a><span class="pagenum">[7]</span>dulging in the expensive +luxury of a French cook. Well do I remember the endless supplies of +potted gravies, sauces, meat jellies, game jellies, fish jellies, the +white ranges of which filled the shelves of her store-room—which she +laughingly called her boudoir—almost to the exclusion of the usual +currant jellies and raspberry jams of such receptacles: for she had the +real <i>bon vivant's</i> preference of the savory to the sweet, and left all +the latter branch of the art to her subordinates, confining the exercise +of her own talents, or immediate superintendence, to the production of +the above-named "elegant extracts." She never, I am sorry to say, +encouraged either my sister or myself in the same useful occupation, +alleging that we had what she called better ones; but I would joyfully, +many a time in America, have exchanged all my boarding-school +smatterings for her knowledge how to produce a wholesome and palatable +dinner. As it was, all I learned of her, to my sorrow, was a detestation +of bad cookery, and a firm conviction that that which was exquisite was +both wholesomer and more economical than any other. Dr. Kitchener, the +clever and amiable author of that amusing book, "The Cook's Oracle" (his +name was a <i>bonâ fide</i> appellation, and not a drolly devised appropriate +<i>nom de plume</i>, and he was a doctor of physic), was a great friend and +admirer of hers; and she is the "accomplished lady" by whom several +pages of that entertaining kitchen companion were furnished to him.</p> + +<p>The mode of opening one of her chapters, "I always bone my meat" (<i>bone</i> +being the slang word of the day for steal), occasioned much merriment +among her friends, and such a look of ludicrous surprise and reprobation +from Liston, when he read it, as I still remember.</p> + +<p>My mother, moreover, devised a most admirable kind of <i>jujube</i>, made of +clarified gum-arabic, honey, and lemon, with which she kept my father +supplied during all the time of his remaining on the stage; he never +acted without having recourse to it, and found it more efficacious in +sustaining the voice and relieving the throat under constant exertion +than any other preparation that he ever tried; this she always made for +him herself.</p> + +<p>The great actors of my family have received their due of recorded +admiration; my mother has always seemed to me to have been overshadowed +by their celebrity; my sister and myself, whose fate it has been to bear +in public the name they have made distinguished, owe in great measure to +her, I think, whatever ability has enabled us to do so not unworthily.</p> + +<p>I was born on the 27th of November, 1809, in Newman <a name="Page_8" id="Page_8" ></a><span class="pagenum">[8]</span>Street, Oxford Road, +the third child of my parents, whose eldest, Philip, named after my +uncle, died in infancy. The second, John Mitchell, lived to distinguish +himself as a scholar, devoting his life to the study of his own language +and the history of his country in their earliest period, and to the +kindred subject of Northern Archæology.</p> + +<p>Of Newman Street I have nothing to say, but regret to have heard that +before we left our residence there my father was convicted, during an +absence of my mother's from town, of having planted in my baby bosom the +seeds of personal vanity, while indulging his own, by having an +especially pretty and becoming lace cap at hand in the drawing-room, to +be immediately substituted for some more homely daily adornment, when I +was exhibited to his visitors. In consequence, perhaps, of which, I am a +disgracefully dress-loving old woman of near seventy, one of whose minor +miseries is that she can no longer find <i>any</i> lace cap whatever that is +either pretty or becoming to her gray head. If my father had not been so +foolish then, I should not be so foolish now—perhaps.</p> + +<p>The famous French actress, Mlle. Clairon, recalled, for the pleasure of +some foreign royal personage passing through Paris, for one night to the +stage, which she had left many years before, was extremely anxious to +recover the pattern of a certain cap which she had worn in her young +days in "La Coquette corrigée," the part she was about to repeat. The +cap, as she wore it, had been a Parisian rage; she declared that half +her success in the part had been the cap. The milliner who had made it, +and whose fortune it had made, had retired from business, grown old; +luckily, however, she was not dead: she was hunted up and adjured to +reproduce, if possible, this marvel of her art, and came to her former +patroness, bringing with her the identical head-gear. Clairon seized +upon it: "Ah oui, c'est bien cela! c'est bien là le bonnet!" It was on +her head in an instant, and she before the glass, in vain trying to +reproduce with it the well-remembered effect. She pished and pshawed, +frowned and shrugged, pulled the pretty <i>chiffon</i> this way and that on +her forehead; and while so doing, coming nearer and nearer to the +terrible looking-glass, suddenly stopped, looked at herself for a moment +in silence, and then, covering her aged and faded face with her hands, +exclaimed, "Ah, c'est bien le bonnet! mais ce n'est plus la figure!"</p> + +<p>Our next home, after Newman Street, was at a place called Westbourne +Green, now absorbed into endless avenues of "palatial" residences, which +scoff with regular-featured, lofty <a name="Page_9" id="Page_9" ></a><span class="pagenum">[9]</span>scorn at the rural simplicity implied +by such a name. The site of our dwelling was not far from the Paddington +Canal, and was then so far out of town that our nearest neighbors, +people of the name of Cockrell, were the owners of a charming residence, +in the middle of park-like grounds, of which I still have a faint, +pleasurable remembrance. The young ladies, daughters of Mr. Cockrell, +really made the first distinct mark I can detect on the <i>tabula rasa</i> of +my memory, by giving me a charming pasteboard figure of a little girl, +to whose serene and sweetly smiling countenance, and pretty person, a +whole bookful of painted pasteboard petticoats, cloaks, and bonnets +could be adapted; it was a lovely being, and stood artlessly by a stile, +an image of rustic beauty and simplicity. I still bless the Miss +Cockrells, if they are alive, but if not, their memory for it!</p> + +<p>Of the curious effect of dressing in producing the <i>sentiment</i> of a +countenance, no better illustration can be had than a series of caps, +curls, wreaths, ribbons, etc., painted so as to be adaptable to one +face; the totally different <i>character</i> imparted by a helmet, or a +garland of roses, to the same set of features, is a "caution" to +irregular beauties who console themselves with the fascinating variety +of their <i>expression</i>.</p> + +<p>At this period of my life, I have been informed, I began, after the +manner of most clever children, to be exceedingly troublesome and +unmanageable, my principal crime being a general audacious contempt for +all authority, which, coupled with a sweet-tempered, cheerful +indifference to all punishment, made it extremely difficult to know how +to obtain of me the minimum quantity of obedience indispensable in the +relations of a tailless monkey of four years and its elders. I never +cried, I never sulked, I never resented, lamented, or repented either my +ill-doings or their consequences, but accepted them alike with a +philosophical buoyancy of spirit which was the despair of my poor +bewildered trainers.</p> + +<p>Being hideously decorated once with a fool's cap of vast dimensions, and +advised to hide, not my "diminished head," but my horrible disgrace, +from all beholders, I took the earliest opportunity of dancing down the +carriage-drive to meet the postman, a great friend of mine, and attract +his observation and admiration to my "helmet," which I called aloud upon +all wayfarers also to contemplate, until removed from an elevated bank I +had selected for this public exhibition of myself and my penal costume, +which was beginning to attract a small group of passers-by.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10" ></a><span class="pagenum">[10]</span>My next malefactions were met with an infliction of bread and water, +which I joyfully accepted, observing, "Now I am like those poor dear +French prisoners that everybody pities so." Mrs. Siddons at that time +lived next door to us; she came in one day when I had committed some of +my daily offenses against manners or morals, and I was led, nothing +daunted, into her awful presence, to be admonished by her.</p> + +<p>Melpomene took me upon her lap, and, bending upon me her "controlling +frown," discoursed to me of my evil ways in those accents which curdled +the blood of the poor shopman, of whom she demanded if the printed +calico she purchased of him "would wash." The tragic tones pausing, in +the midst of the impressed and impressive silence of the assembled +family, I tinkled forth, "What beautiful eyes you have!" all my small +faculties having been absorbed in the steadfast upward gaze I fixed upon +those magnificent orbs. Mrs. Siddons set me down with a smothered laugh, +and I trotted off, apparently uninjured by my great-aunt's solemn moral +suasion.</p> + +<p>A dangerous appeal, of a higher order, being made to me by my aunt's +most intimate friend, Mrs. F——, a not very judicious person, to the +effect, "Fanny, why don't you pray to God to make you better?" +immediately received the conclusive reply, "So I do, and he makes me +worse and worse." Parents and guardians should be chary of handling the +deep chords upon whose truth and strength the highest harmonies of the +fully developed soul are to depend.</p> + +<p>In short, I was as hopelessly philosophical a subject as Madame Roland, +when, at six years old, receiving her penal bread and water with the +comment, "Bon pour la digestion!" and the retributive stripes which this +drew upon her, with the further observation, "Bon pour la circulation!" +In spite of my "wickedness," as Topsy would say, I appear to have been +not a little spoiled by my parents, and an especial pet and favorite of +all their friends, among whom, though I do not remember him at this +early period of our acquaintance, I know was Charles Young, that most +kindly good man and pleasant gentleman, one of whose many amiable +qualities was a genuine love for little children. He was an intimate +friend of Mrs. Siddons and her brothers, and came frequently to our +house; if the elders were not at home, he invariably made his way to the +nursery, where, according to the amusing description he has often since +given me of our early intercourse, one of his great diversions was to +make me fold my little fat arms—not an easy performance for small +muscles—and with a portentous <a name="Page_11" id="Page_11" ></a><span class="pagenum">[11]</span>frown, which puckered up my mouth even +more than my eyebrows, receive from him certain awfully unintelligible +passages from "Macbeth;" replying to them, with a lisp that must have +greatly heightened the tragic effect of this terrible dialogue, "<i>My +handth are of oo tolor</i>" (My hands are of your color). Years—how +many!—after this first lesson in declamation, dear Charles Young was +acting Macbeth for the last time in London, and I was his "wicked wife;" +and while I stood at the side scenes, painting my hands and arms with +the vile red stuff that confirmed the bloody-minded woman's words, he +said to me with a smile, "Ah ha! <i>My handth are of oo tolor.</i>"</p> + +<p>Mr. Young's own theatrical career was a sort of curious contradiction +between his physical and mental endowments. His very handsome and +regular features of the Roman cast, and deep, melodious voice, were +undoubtedly fine natural requisites for a tragic actor, and he succeeded +my uncle in all his principal parts, if not with any thing like equal +genius, with a dignity and decorum that were always highly acceptable. +He had, however, no tragic mental element whatever with these very +decided external qualifications for tragedy; but a perception of and +passion for humor, which he indulged in private constantly, in the most +entertaining and surprising manner. Ludicrous stories; personal mimicry; +the most admirable imitation of national accent—Scotch, Irish, and +French (he spoke the latter language to perfection, and Italian very +well); a power of grimace that equaled Grimaldi, and the most +irresistibly comical way of resuming, in the midst of the broadest +buffoonery, the stately dignity of his own natural countenance, voice, +and manner.</p> + +<p>He was a cultivated musician, and sang French and Italian with taste and +expression, and English ballads with a pathos and feeling only inferior +to that of Moore and Mrs. Arkwright, with both which great masters of +musical declamation he was on terms of friendly intimacy. Mr. Young was +a universal favorite in the best London society, and an eagerly sought +guest in pleasant country-houses, where his zeal for country sports, his +knowledge of and fondness for horses, his capital equestrianism, and +inexhaustible fund of humor, made him as popular with the men as his +sweet, genial temper, good breeding, musical accomplishments, and +infinite drollery did with the women.</p> + +<p>Mr. Young once told Lord Dacre that he made about four thousand pounds +sterling per annum by his profession; and as he was prudent and moderate +in his mode of life, and, though <a name="Page_12" id="Page_12" ></a><span class="pagenum">[12]</span>elegant, not extravagant in his tastes, +he had realized a handsome fortune when he left the stage.</p> + +<p>Mr. Young passed the last years of his life at Brighton, and I never +visited that place without going to see him, confined as he latterly was +to his sofa with a complication of painful diseases and the weight of +more than seventy years. The last time I saw him in his drawing-room he +made me sit on a little stool by his sofa—it was not long after my +father, his life-long friend and contemporary's death—and he kept +stroking my hair, and saying to me, "You look so like a child—a good +child." I saw him but once more after this; he was then confined to his +bed. It was on Sunday; he lay propped with pillows in an ample flannel +dressing-gown, with a dark-blue velvet skull-cap on his head, and I +thought I had never seen his face look more strikingly noble and +handsome; he was reading the church service and his Bible, and kept me +by him for some time. I never saw him again.</p> + +<p>As a proof of the little poetical imagination which Mr. Young brought to +some of his tragic performances, I remember his saying of his dress in +Cardinal Wolsey, "Well, I never could associate any ideas of grandeur +with this old woman's red petticoat." It would be difficult to say what +his best performances were, for he had never either fire, passion, or +tenderness; but never wanted propriety, dignity, and a certain stately +grace. Sir Pertinax McSycophant and Iago were the best things I ever saw +him act, probably because the sardonic element in both of them gave +partial scope to his humorous vein.</p> + +<p>Not long after this we moved to another residence, still in the same +neighborhood, but near the churchyard of Paddington church, which was a +thoroughfare of gravel walks, cutting in various directions the green +turf, where the flat tombstones formed frequent "play-tables" for us; +upon these our nursery-maid, apparently not given to melancholy +meditations among the tombs, used to allow us to manufacture whole +delightful dinner sets of clay plates and dishes (I think I could make +such now), out of which we used to have feasts, as we called them, of +morsels of cake and fruit.</p> + +<p>At this time I was about five years old, and it was determined that I +should be sent to the care of my father's sister, Mrs. Twiss, who kept a +school at Bath, and who was my godmother. On the occasion of my setting +forth on my travels, my brother John presented me with a whole +collection of children's books, which he had read and carefully +preserved, and <a name="Page_13" id="Page_13" ></a><span class="pagenum">[13]</span>now commended to my use. There were at least a round +dozen, and, having finished reading them, it occurred to me that to make +a bonfire of them would be an additional pleasure to be derived from +them; and so I added to the intellectual recreation they afforded me the +more <i>sensational</i> excitement of what I called "a blaze;" a proceeding +of which the dangerous sinfulness was severely demonstrated to me by my +new care-takers.</p> + +<p>Camden Place, Bath, was one of the lofty terraces built on the charming +slopes that surround the site of the Aquæ Solis of the Romans, and here +my aunt Twiss kept a girls' school, which participated in the favor +which every thing belonging to, or even remotely associated with, Mrs. +Siddons received from the public. It was a decidedly "fashionable +establishment for the education of young ladies," managed by my aunt, +her husband, and her three daughters. Mrs. Twiss was, like every member +of my father's family, at one time on the stage, but left it very soon, +to marry the grim-visaged, gaunt-figured, kind-hearted gentleman and +profound scholar whose name she at this time bore, and who, I have heard +it said, once nourished a hopeless passion for Mrs. Siddons. Mrs. Twiss +bore a soft and mitigated likeness to her celebrated sister; she had +great sweetness of voice and countenance, and a graceful, refined, +feminine manner, that gave her great advantages in her intercourse with +and influence over the young women whose training she undertook. Mr. +Twiss was a very learned man, whose literary labors were, I believe, +various, but whose "Concordance of Shakespeare" is the only one with +which I am acquainted. He devoted himself, with extreme assiduity, to +the education of his daughters, giving them the unusual advantage of a +thorough classic training, and making of two of them learned women in +the more restricted, as well as the more general, sense of the term. +These ladies were what so few of their sex ever are, <i>really well +informed</i>; they knew much, and they knew it all thoroughly; they were +excellent Latin scholars and mathematicians, had read immensely and at +the same time systematically, had prodigious memories stored with +various and well-classed knowledge, and, above all, were mistresses of +the English language, and spoke and wrote it with perfect purity—an +accomplishment out of fashion now, it appears to me, but of the +advantage of which I retain a delightful impression in my memory of +subsequent intercourse with those excellent and capitally educated +women. My relations with them, all but totally interrupted for upward of +thirty years, were renewed <a name="Page_14" id="Page_14" ></a><span class="pagenum">[14]</span>late in the middle of my life and toward the +end of theirs, when I visited them repeatedly at their pretty rural +dwelling near Hereford, where they enjoyed in tranquil repose the easy +independence they had earned by honorable toil. There, the lovely +garden, every flower of which looked fit to take the first prize at a +horticultural show, the incomparable white strawberries, famous +throughout the neighborhood, and a magnificent Angola cat, were the +delights of my out-of-door life; and perfect kindness and various +conversation, fed by an inexhaustible fund of anecdote, an immense +knowledge of books, and a long and interesting acquaintance with +society, made the indoor hours passed with these quiet old lady +governesses some of the most delightful I have ever known. The two +younger sisters died first; the eldest, surviving them, felt the sad +solitude of their once pleasant home at "The Laurels" intolerable, and +removed her residence to Brighton, where, till the period of her death, +I used to go and stay with her, and found her to the last one of the +most agreeable companions I have ever known.</p> + +<p>At the time of my first acquaintance with my cousins, however, neither +their own studies nor those of their pupils so far engrossed them as to +seclude them from society. Bath was then, at certain seasons, the gayest +place of fashionable resort in England; and, little consonant as such a +thing would appear at the present day with the prevailing ideas of the +life of a teacher, balls, routs, plays, assemblies, the Pump Room, and +all the fashionable dissipations of the place, were habitually resorted +to by these very "stylish" school-mistresses, whose position at one +time, oddly enough, was that of leaders of "the ton" in the pretty +provincial capital of Somersetshire. It was, moreover, understood, as +part of the system of the establishment, that such of the pupils as were +of an age to be introduced into society could enjoy the advantage of the +chaperonage of these ladies, and several did avail themselves of it.</p> + +<p>What profit I made under these kind and affectionate kinsfolk I know +not; little, I rather think, ostensibly; perhaps some beneath the +surface, not very manifest either to them or myself at the time; but +painstaking love sows more harvests than it wots of, wherever or +whenever (or if never) it reaps them.</p> + +<p>I did not become versed in any of my cousins' learned lore, or +accomplished in the lighter labors of their leisure hours—to wit, the +shoemaking, bread-seal manufacturing, and black and white Japan, table +and screen painting, which produced such <a name="Page_15" id="Page_15" ></a><span class="pagenum">[15]</span>an indescribable medley of +materials in their rooms, and were fashionable female idle industries of +that day.</p> + +<p>Remote from the theatre, and all details of theatrical life, as my +existence in my aunt's school was, there still were occasional +infiltrations of that element which found their way into my small +sphere. My cousin John Twiss, who died not very long ago, an elderly +general in her Majesty's service, was at this time a young giant, +studying to become an engineer officer, whose visits to his home were +seasons of great delight to the family in general, not unmixed on my +part with dread; for a favorite diversion of his was enacting my uncle +John's famous rescue of Cora's child, in "Pizarro," with me clutched in +one hand, and exalted to perilous proximity with the chandelier, while +he rushed across the drawing-rooms, to my exquisite terror and triumph.</p> + +<p>I remember, too, his sisters, all three remarkably tall women (the +eldest nearly six feet high, a portentous petticoat stature), amusing +themselves with putting on, and sweeping about the rooms in, certain +regal mantles and Grecian draperies of my aunt Mrs. Whitelock's, an +actress, like the rest of the Kembles, who sought and found across the +Atlantic a fortune and celebrity which it would have been difficult for +her to have achieved under the disadvantage of proximity to, and +comparison with, her sister, Mrs. Siddons. But I suppose the dramatic +impression which then affected me with the greatest and most vivid +pleasure was an experience which I have often remembered, when reading +Goethe's "Dichtung und Wahrheit," and the opening chapters of "Wilhelm +Meister." Within a pleasant summer afternoon's walk from Bath, through +green meadows and by the river's side, lay a place called Claverton +Park, the residence of a family of the name of A——. I remember nothing +of the house but the stately and spacious hall, in the middle of which +stood a portable theatre, or puppet-show, such as Punch inhabits, where +the small figures, animated with voice and movement by George A——, the +eldest son of the family, were tragic instead of grotesque, and where, +instead of the squeaking "Don Giovanni" of the London pavement, +"Macbeth" and similar solemnities appeared before my enchanted eyes. The +troupe might have been the very identical puppet performers of Harry +Rowe, the famous Yorkshire trumpeter. These, I suppose, were the first +plays I ever saw. Those were pleasant walks to Claverton, and pleasant +days at Claverton Hall! I wish Hans Breitmann and his "Avay in die +Ewigkeit" did not come in, like a ludicrous, lugubrious burden, to all +one's <a name="Page_16" id="Page_16" ></a><span class="pagenum">[16]</span>reminiscences of places and people one knew upward of fifty years +ago.</p> + +<p>I have been accused of having acquired a bad habit of <i>punning from +Shakespeare!</i>—a delightful idea, that made me laugh till I cried the +first time it was suggested to me. If so, I certainly began early to +exhibit a result, of which the cause was, in some mysterious way, long +subsequent to the effect; unless the Puppet Plays of Claverton inspired +my wit. However that may be, I developed at this period a decided +faculty for punning, and that is an unusual thing at that age. Children +have considerable enjoyment of humor, as many of their favorite fairy +and other stories attest; they are often themselves extremely droll and +humorous in their assumed play characters and the stories they invent to +divert their companions; but punning is a not very noble species of wit; +it partakes of mental dexterity, requires neither fancy, humor, nor +imagination, and deals in words with double meanings, a subtlety very +little congenial to the simple and earnest intelligence of childhood.</p> + +<p><i>Les enfans terribles</i> say such things daily, and make their +grandmothers' caps stand on end with their precocious astuteness; but +the clever sayings of most clever children, repeated and reported by +admiring friends and relations, are, for the most part, simply the +result of unused faculties, exercising themselves in, to them, an unused +world; only therefore surprising to worn-out faculties, which have +almost ceased to exercise themselves in, to them, an almost worn-out +world.</p> + +<p>To Miss B—— I was indebted for the first doll I remember possessing—a +gorgeous wax personage, in white muslin and cherry-colored ribbons, who, +by desire of the donor, was to be called Philippa, in honor of my uncle. +I never loved or liked dolls, though I remember taking some pride in the +splendor of this, my first-born. They always affected me with a grim +sense of being a mockery of the humanity they were supposed to +represent; there was something uncanny, not to say ghastly, in the doll +existence and its mimicry of babyhood to me, and I had a nervous +dislike, not unmixed with fear, of the smiling simulacra that girls are +all supposed to love with a species of prophetic maternal instinct.</p> + +<p>The only member of my aunt Twiss's family of whom I remember at this +time little or nothing was the eldest son, Horace, who in subsequent +years was one of the most intimate and familiar friends of my father and +mother, and who became well known as a clever and successful public man, +and a bril<a name="Page_17" id="Page_17" ></a><span class="pagenum">[17]</span>liant and agreeable member of the London society of his day.</p> + +<p>My stay of a little more than a year at Bath had but one memorable +event, in its course, to me. I was looking one evening, at bedtime, over +the banisters, from the upper story into the hall below, with tiptoe +eagerness that caused me to overbalance myself and turn over the rail, +to which I clung on the wrong side, suspended, like Victor Hugo's +miserable priest to the gutter of Notre Dame, and then fell four stories +down on the stone pavement of the hall. I was not killed, or apparently +injured, but whether I was not really irreparably damaged no human being +can possibly tell.</p> + +<p>My next memories refer to a residence which my parents were occupying +when I returned to London, called Covent Garden Chambers, now, I +believe, celebrated as "Evans's," and where, I am told, it is +confidently affirmed that I was born, which I was not; and where, I am +told, a picture is shown that is confidently affirmed to be mine, which +it is not. My sister Adelaide was born in Covent Garden Chambers, and +the picture in question is an oil sketch, by Sir Thomas Lawrence, of my +cousin Maria Siddons; quite near the truth enough for history, private +or public. It was while we were living here that Mrs. Siddons returned +to the stage for one night, and acted Lady Randolph for my father's +benefit. Of course I heard much discourse about this, to us, important +and exciting event, and used all my small powers of persuasion to be +taken to see her.</p> + +<p>My father, who loved me very much, and spoiled me not a little, carried +me early in the afternoon into the market-place, and showed me the dense +mass of people which filled the whole Piazza, in patient expectation of +admission to the still unopened doors. This was by way of proving to me +how impossible it was to grant my request. However that might then +appear, it was granted, for I was in the theatre at the beginning of the +performance; but I can now remember nothing of it but the appearance of +a solemn female figure in black, and the tremendous <i>roar</i> of public +greeting which welcomed her, and must, I suppose, have terrified my +childish senses, by the impression I still retain of it; and this is the +only occasion on which I saw my aunt in public.</p> + +<p>Another circumstance, connected in my mind with Covent Garden Chambers, +was a terrible anguish about my youngest brother, Henry, who was for +some hours lost. He was a most beautiful child, of little more than +three years old, and had <a name="Page_18" id="Page_18" ></a><span class="pagenum">[18]</span>been allowed to go out on the door-steps, by an +exceedingly foolish little nursery-maid, to look at the traffic of the +great market-place. Returning without him, she declared that he had +refused to come in with her, and had run to the corner of Henrietta +Street, as she averred, where she had left him, to come and fetch +authoritative assistance.</p> + +<p>The child did not come home, and all search for him proved vain +throughout the crowded market and the adjoining thoroughfares, thronged +with people and choked with carts and wagons, and swarming with the +blocked-up traffic, which had to make its way to and from the great mart +through avenues far narrower and more difficult of access than they are +now. There were not then, either, those invaluable beings, policemen, +standing at every corner to enforce order and assist the helpless. These +then were not; and no inquiry brought back any tidings of the poor +little lost boy. My mother was ill, and I do not think she was told of +the child's disappearance, but my father went to and fro with the face +and voice of a distracted man; and I well remember the look with which +he climbed a narrow outside stair leading only to a rain-water cistern, +with the miserable apprehension that his child might have clambered up +and fallen into it. The neighborhood was stirred with sympathy for the +agony of the poor father, and pitying gossip spreading the news through +the thronged market-place, where my father's name and appearance were +familiar enough to give a strong personal feeling to the compassion +expressed. A baker's boy, lounging about, caught up the story of the +lost child, and described having seen a "pretty little chap with curly +hair, in a brown holland pinafore," in St. James's Square. Thither the +searchers flew, and the child was found, tired out with his +self-directed wandering, but apparently quite contented, fast asleep on +the door-step of one of the lordly houses of that aristocratic square. +He was so remarkably beautiful that he must have attracted attention +before long, and <i>might</i> perhaps have been restored to his home; but God +knows what an age of horror and anguish was lived through by my father +and my poor aunt Dall in that short, miserable space of time till he was +found.</p> + +<p>My aunt Dall, of whom I now speak for the first time, was my mother's +sister, and had lived with us, I believe, ever since I was born. Her +name was Adelaide, but the little fellow whose adventure I have just +related, stumbling over this fine Norman appellation, turned it into +Idallidy, and then conveniently shortened it of its two extremities and +made it Dall, by <a name="Page_19" id="Page_19" ></a><span class="pagenum">[19]</span>which title she was called by us, and known to all our +friends, and beloved by all who ever spoke or heard it. Her story was as +sad a one as could well be; yet to my thinking she was one of the +happiest persons I have ever known, as well as one of the best. She was +my mother's second sister, and as her picture, taken when she was +twenty, shows (and it was corroborated by her appearance till upward of +fifty), she was extremely pretty. Obliged, as all the rest of her family +were, to earn her own bread, and naturally adopting the means of doing +so that they did, she went upon the stage; but I can not conceive that +her nature can ever have had any affinity with her occupation. She had a +robust and rather prosaic common-sense, opposed to any thing exaggerated +or sentimental, which gave her an excellent judgment of character and +conduct, a strong genial vein of humor which very often made her +repartees witty as well as wise, and a sunny sweetness of temper and +soundness of moral nature that made her as good as she was easy and +delightful to live with. Whenever any thing went wrong, and she was +"vexed past her patience," she used to sing; it was the only indication +by which we ever knew that she was what is termed "out of sorts." She +had found employment in her profession under the kindly protection of +Mr. Stephen Kemble, my father's brother, who lived for many years at +Durham, and was the manager of the theatre there, and, according to the +fashion of that time, traveled with his company, at stated seasons, to +Newcastle, Sunderland, and other places, which formed a sort of +theatrical circuit in the northern counties, throughout which he was +well known and generally respected.</p> + +<p>In his company my aunt Dall found employment, and in his daughter, Fanny +Kemble, since well known as Mrs. Robert Arkwright, an inseparable friend +and companion. My aunt lived with Mr. and Mrs. Stephen Kemble, who were +excellent, worthy people. They took good care of the two young girls +under their charge, this linsey-woolsey Rosalind and Celia—their own +beautiful and most rarely endowed daughter, and her light-hearted, +lively companion; and I suppose that a merrier life than that of these +lasses, in the midst of their quaint theatrical tasks and homely +household duties, was seldom led by two girls in any sphere of life. +They learned and acted their parts, devised and executed, with small +means and great industry, their dresses; made pies and puddings, and +patched and darned, in the morning, and by dint of paste and rouge +became heroines in the evening; and withal were well-conducted, good +young things, full of the irrepressible spirits of <a name="Page_20" id="Page_20" ></a><span class="pagenum">[20]</span>their age, and +turning alike their hard home work and light stage labor into fun. Fanny +had inherited the beauty of her father's family, which in her most +lovely countenance had a character of childlike simplicity and serene +sweetness that made it almost angelic.</p> + +<p>Far on in middle age she retained this singularly tender beauty, which +added immensely to the exquisite effect of her pathetic voice in her +incomparable rendering of the ballads she composed (the poetry as well +as the music being often her own), and to which her singing of them gave +so great a fashion at one time in the great London world. It was in vain +that far better musicians, with far finer voices, attempted to copy her +inimitable musical recitation; nobody ever sang like her, and still less +did anybody ever look like her while she sang. Practical jokes of very +doubtful taste were the fashion of that day, and remembering what +wonderfully coarse and silly proceedings were then thought highly +diverting by "vastly genteel" people, it is not, perhaps, much to be +wondered at that so poor a piece of wit as this should have furnished +diversion to a couple of light-hearted girls, with no special +pretensions to elegance or education. Once they were driving together in +a post-chaise on the road to Newcastle, and my aunt, having at hand in a +box part of a military equipment intended for some farce, accoutred her +upper woman in a soldier's cap, stock, and jacket, and, with heavily +corked mustaches, persisted in embracing her companion, whose frantic +resistance, screams of laughter, and besmirched cheeks, elicited +comments of boundless amazement, in broad north-country dialect, from +the market folk they passed on the road, to whom they must have appeared +the most violent runaway couple that ever traveled.</p> + +<p>Liston, the famous comedian, was at this time a member of the Durham +company, and though he began his career there by reciting Collins's "Ode +to the Passions," attired in a pea-green coat, buckskins, top-boots, and +powder, with a scroll in his hand, and followed up this essay of his +powers with the tragic actor's battle-horse, the part of Hamlet, he soon +found his peculiar gift to lie in the diametrically opposite direction +of broad farce. Of this he was perpetually interpolating original +specimens in the gravest performances of his fellow-actors; on one +occasion suddenly presenting to Mrs. Stephen Kemble, as she stood +disheveled at the side scene, ready to go on the stage as Ophelia in her +madness, a basket with carrots, turnips, onions, leeks, and pot-herbs, +instead of the conventional flowers and straws of the stage maniac, +which sent the representative <a name="Page_21" id="Page_21" ></a><span class="pagenum">[21]</span>of the fair Ophelia on in a broad grin, +with ill-suppressed fury and laughter, which must have given quite an +original character of verisimilitude to the insanity she counterfeited.</p> + +<p>On another occasion he sent all the little chorister boys on, in the +lugubrious funeral procession in "Romeo and Juliet," with pieces of +brown paper in their hands to wipe their tears with.</p> + +<p>The suppression of that very dreadful piece of stage pageantry has at +last, I believe, been conceded to the better taste of modern audiences; +but even in my time it was still performed, and an exact representation +of a funeral procession, such as one meets every day in Rome, with +torch-bearing priests, and bier covered with its black-velvet pall, +embroidered with skull and cross-bones, with a corpse-like figure +stretched upon it, marched round the stage, chanting some portion of the +fine Roman Catholic requiem music. I have twice been in the theatre when +persons have been seized with epilepsy during that ghastly exhibition, +and think the good judgment that has discarded such a mimicry of a +solemn religious ceremony highly commendable.</p> + +<p>Another evening, Liston, having painted Fanny Kemble's face like a +clown's, posted her at one of the stage side doors to confront her +mother, poor Mrs. Stephen Kemble, entering at the opposite one to +perform some dismally serious scene of dramatic pathos, who, on suddenly +beholding this grotesque apparition of her daughter, fell into +convulsions of laughter and coughing, and half audible exclamations of +"Go away, Fanny! I'll tell your father, miss!" which must have had the +effect of a sudden seizure of madness to the audience, accustomed to the +rigid decorum of the worthy woman in the discharge of her theatrical +duties.</p> + +<p>Long after these provincial exploits, and when he had become the +comedian <i>par excellence</i> of the English stage, for which eminence +nature and art had alike qualified him by the imperturbable gravity of +his extraordinarily ugly face, which was such an irresistibly comical +element in his broadest and most grotesque performances, Mr. Liston used +to exert his ludicrous powers of tormenting his fellow-actors in the +most cruel manner upon that sweet singer, Miss Stephens (afterward +Countess of Essex). She had a curious nervous trick of twitching her +dress before she began to sing; this peculiarity was well known to all +her friends, and Liston, who certainly was one of them, used to agonize +the poor woman by standing at the side scene, while the symphony of her +pathetic ballads was being played, and indicating by his eyes and +gestures that something was amiss with <a name="Page_22" id="Page_22" ></a><span class="pagenum">[22]</span>the trimming or bottom of her +dress; when, as invariably as he chose to play the trick, poor Miss +Stephens used to begin to twitch and catch at her petticoat, and half +hysterical, between laughing and crying, would enchant and entrance her +listeners with her exquisite voice and pathetic rendering of "Savourneen +Deelish" or "The Banks of Allan Water."</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + + +<p>Two young men, officers of a militia regiment, became admirers of the +two young country actresses: how long an acquaintance existed before the +fact became evident that they were seriously paying their addresses to +the girls, I do not know; nor how long the struggle lasted between pride +and conventional respectability on the part of the young men's families +and the pertinacity of their attachment.</p> + +<p>Fanny Kemble's suitor, Robert Arkwright, had certainly no pretensions to +dignity of descent, and the old Derbyshire barber, Sir Richard, or his +son could hardly have stood out long upon that ground, though the +immense wealth realized by their ingenuity and industry was abundant +worldly reason for objections to such a match, no doubt.</p> + +<p>However that may be, the opposition was eventually overcome by the +determination of the lovers, and they were married; while to the others +a far different fate was allotted. The young man who addressed my aunt, +whose name I do not know, was sent for by his father, a wealthy +Yorkshire squire, who, upon his refusing to give up his mistress, +instantly assembled all the servants and tenants, and declared before +them all that the young gentleman, his son (and supposed heir), was +illegitimate, and thenceforth disinherited and disowned. He enlisted and +went to India, and never saw my aunt again. Mrs. Arkwright went home to +Stoke, to the lovely house and gardens in the Peak of Derbyshire, to +prosperity and wealth, to ease and luxury, and to the love of husband +and children. Later in life she enjoyed, in her fine mansion of Sutton, +the cordial intimacy of the two great county magnates, her neighbors, +the Dukes of Rutland and Devonshire, the latter of whom was her admiring +and devoted friend till her death. In the society of the high-born and +gay and gifted with whom she now mixed, and among whom her singular +gifts made her remarkable, the enthusiasm she excited never impaired the +transparent and <a name="Page_23" id="Page_23" ></a><span class="pagenum">[23]</span>childlike simplicity and sincerity of her nature. There +was something very peculiar about the single-minded, simple-hearted +genuineness of Mrs. Arkwright which gave an unusual charm of +unconventionality and fervid earnestness to her manner and conversation. +I remember her telling me, with the most absolute conviction, that she +thought wives were bound implicitly to obey their husbands, for she +believed that at the day of judgment husbands would be answerable for +their wives' souls.</p> + +<p>It was in the midst of a life full of all the most coveted elements of +worldly enjoyment, and when she was still beautiful and charming, though +no longer young, that I first knew her. Her face and voice were heavenly +sweet, and very sad; I do not know why she made so profoundly melancholy +an impression upon me, but she was so unlike all that surrounded her, +that she constantly suggested to me the one live drop of water in the +middle of a globe of ice. The loss of her favorite son affected her with +irrecoverable sorrow, and she passed a great portion of the last years +of her life at a place called Cullercoats, a little fishing village on +the north coast, to which when a young girl she used to accompany her +father and mother for rest and refreshment, when the hard life from +which her marriage released her allowed them a few days' respite by the +rocks and sands and breakers of the Northumberland shore. The Duke of +Devonshire, whose infirmity of deafness did not interfere with his +enjoyment of music, was an enthusiastic admirer of Mrs. Arkwright, and +her constant and affectionate friend. Their proximity of residence in +Derbyshire made their opportunities of meeting very frequent, and when +the Arkwrights visited London, Devonshire House was, if they chose it, +their hotel. His attachment to her induced him, towards the end of his +life, to take a residence in the poor little village of Cullercoats, +whither she loved to resort, and where she died. I possess a copy of a +beautiful drawing of a head of Mrs. Arkwright, given to me by the duke, +for whom the original was executed. It is only a head, with the eyes +raised to heaven, and the lips parted, as in the act of singing; and the +angelic sweetness of the countenance may perhaps suggest, to those who +never heard her, the voice that seemed like that face turned to sound.</p> + +<p>So Fanny Kemble married, and Adelaide Decamp came and lived with us, and +was the good angel of our home. All intercourse between the two (till +then inseparable companions) ceased for many years, and my aunt began +her new life with a bitter bankruptcy of love and friendship, happiness +and hope, <a name="Page_24" id="Page_24" ></a><span class="pagenum">[24]</span>that would have dried the sap of every sweet affection, and +made even goodness barren, in many a woman's heart for ever.</p> + +<p>Without any home but my father's house, without means of subsistence but +the small pittance which he was able to give her, in most grateful +acknowledgment of her unremitting care of us, without any joys or hopes +but those of others, without pleasure in the present or expectation in +the future, apparently without memory of the past, she spent her whole +life in the service of my parents and their children, and lived and +moved and had her being in a serene, unclouded, unvarying atmosphere of +cheerful, self-forgetful content that was heroic in its absolute +unconsciousness. She is the only person I can think of who appeared to +me to have fulfilled Wordsworth's conception of</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Those blessed ones who do God's will and know it not."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I have never seen either man or woman like her, in her humble +excellence, and I am thankful that, knowing what the circumstances of +her whole life were, she yet seems to me the happiest human being I have +known. She died, as she had lived, in the service of others. When I went +with my father to America, my mother remained in England, and my aunt +came with us, to take care of me. She died in consequence of the +overturning of a carriage (in which we were travelling), from which she +received a concussion of the spine; and her last words to me, after a +night of angelic endurance of restless fever and suffering, were, "Open +the window; let in the blessed light"—almost the same as Goethe's, with +a characteristic difference. It was with the hope of giving her the +proceeds of its publication, as a token of my affectionate gratitude, +that I printed my American journal; that hope being defeated by her +death, I gave them, for her sake, to her younger sister, my aunt +Victoire Decamp. This sister of my mother's was, when we were living in +Covent Garden Chambers, a governess in a school at Lea, near Blackheath.</p> + +<p>The school was kept by ladies of the name of Guinani, sisters to the +wife of Charles Young—the Julia so early lost, so long loved and +lamented by him. I was a frequent and much-petted visitor to their +house, which never fulfilled the austere purpose implied in its name to +me, for all my days there were holidays; and I remember hours of special +delight passed in a large drawing-room where two fine cedars of Lebanon +threw grateful gloom into the windows, and great tall china jars of +pot-pourri filled the air with a mixed fragrance of roses and (as it +seemed to me) plum-pudding, and where hung a picture, the contemplation +of which more than once moved me to tears, after I had <a name="Page_25" id="Page_25" ></a><span class="pagenum">[25]</span>been given to +understand that the princely personage and fair-headed baby in a boat in +the midst of a hideous black sea, overhung by a hideous black sky, were +Prospero, the good Duke of Milan, and his poor little princess daughter, +Miranda, cast forth by wicked relations to be drowned.</p> + +<p>It was while we were still living in Covent Garden Chambers that Talma, +the great French actor, came to London. He knew both my uncle and my +father, and was highly esteemed and greatly admired by both of them. He +called one day upon my father, when nobody was at home, and the servant +who opened the door holding me by the hand, the famous French actor, who +spoke very good English, though not without the "pure Parisian accent," +took some kind of notice of me, desiring me to be sure and remember his +name, and tell my father that Mr. Talma, the great French tragedian, had +called. I replied that I would do so, and then added, with noble +emulation, that my father was also a great tragedian, and my uncle was +also a great tragedian, and that we had a baby in the nursery who I +thought must be a great tragedian too, for she did nothing but cry, and +what was that if not tragedy?—which edifying discourse found its way +back to my mother, to whom Talma laughingly repeated it. I have heard my +father say that on the occasion of this visit of Talma's to London, he +consulted my uncle on the subject of acting in English. Hamlet was one +of his great parts, and he made as fine a thing of Ducis' cold, and +stiff, and formal adaptation of Shakespeare's noble work as his meagre +material allowed; but, as I have said before, he spoke English well, and +thought it not impossible to undertake the part in the original +language. My uncle, however, strongly dissuaded him from it, thinking +the decided French accent an insuperable obstacle to his success, and +being very unwilling that he should risk by a failure in the attempt his +deservedly high reputation. A friend of mine, at a dinner party, being +asked if she had seen Mr. Fechter in Hamlet, replied in the negative, +adding that she did not think she should relish Shakespeare declaimed +with a foreign accent. The gentleman who had questioned her said, "Ah, +very true indeed—perhaps not;" then, looking attentively at his plate, +from which I suppose he drew the inspiration of what followed, he added, +"And yet—after all, you know, Hamlet was a foreigner." This view of the +case had probably not suggested itself to John Kemble, and so he +dissuaded Talma from the experiment. While referring to Mr. Fechter's +personification of Hamlet, and the great success which it obtained in +the fash<a name="Page_26" id="Page_26" ></a><span class="pagenum">[26]</span>ionable world, I wish to preserve a charming instance of naïve +ignorance in a young guardsman, seduced by the enthusiasm of the gay +society of London into going, for once, to see a play of Shakespeare's. +After sitting dutifully through some scenes in silence, he turned to a +fellow-guardsman, who was painfully looking and listening by his side, +with the grave remark, "I say, George, <i>dooced</i> odd play this; its all +full of quotations." The young military gentleman had occasionally, it +seems, heard Shakespeare quoted, and remembered it.</p> + +<p>To return to my story. About this time it was determined that I should +be sent to school in France. My father was extremely anxious to give me +every advantage that he could, and Boulogne, which was not then the +British Alsatia it afterwards became, and where there was a girl's +school of some reputation, was chosen as not too far from home to send a +mite seven years old, to acquire the French language and begin her +education. And so to Boulogne I went, to a school in the oddly named +"Rue tant perd tant paie," in the old town, kept by a rather sallow and +grim, but still vivacious old Madame Faudier, with the assistance of her +daughter, Mademoiselle Flore, a bouncing, blooming beauty of a discreet +age, whose florid complexion, prominent black eyes, plaited and +profusely pomatumed black hair, and full, commanding figure, attired for +fête days, in salmon-colored merino, have remained vividly impressed +upon my memory. What I learned here except French (which I could not +help learning), I know not. I was taught music, dancing, and Italian, +the latter by a Signor Mazzochetti, an object of special detestation to +me, whose union with Mademoiselle Flore caused a temporary fit of +rejoicing in the school. The small seven-year-old beginnings of such +particular humanities I mastered with tolerable success, but if I may +judge from the frequency of my <i>penitences</i>, humanity in general was not +instilled into me without considerable trouble. I was a sore torment, no +doubt, to poor Madame Faudier, who, on being once informed by some +alarmed passers in the street that one of her "demoiselles" was +perambulating the house roof, is reported to have exclaimed, in a +paroxysm of rage and terror, "Ah, ce ne peut etre que cette <i>diable</i> de +Kemble!" and sure enough it was I. Having committed I know not what +crime, I had been thrust for chastisement into a lonely garret, where, +having nothing earthly to do but look about me, I discovered (like a +prince in the Arabian Nights) a ladder leading to a trap-door, and +presently was out on a sort of stone coping, which ran round the steep +roof of the high, old-fashioned house, survey<a name="Page_27" id="Page_27" ></a><span class="pagenum">[27]</span>ing with serene +satisfaction the extensive prospect landward and seaward, unconscious +that I was at the same time an object of terror to the beholders in the +street below. Snatched from the perilous delight of this bad eminence, I +was (again, I think, rather like the Arabian prince) forthwith plunged +into the cellar; where I curled myself up on the upper step, close to +the heavy door that had been locked upon me, partly for the comfort of +the crack of light that squeezed itself through it, and partly, I +suppose, from some vague idea that there was no bottom to the steps, +derived from my own terror rather than from any precise historical +knowledge of oubliettes and donjons, with the execrable treachery of +stairs suddenly ending in mid-darkness over an abyss. I suppose I +suffered a martyrdom of fear, for I remember upwards of thirty years +afterwards having this very cellar, and my misery in it, brought before +my mind suddenly, with intense vividness, while reading, in Victor +Hugo's Notre Dame, poor Esmeralda's piteous entreaties for deliverance +from her underground prison: "Oh laissez moi sortir! j'ai froid! j'ai +peur! et des bêtes me montent le long du corps." The latter hideous +detail certainly completes the exquisite misery of the picture. Less +justifiable than banishment to lonely garrets, whence egress was to be +found only by the roof, or dark incarceration in cellars whence was no +egress at all, was another device, adopted to impress me with the evil +of my ways, and one which seems to me so foolish in its cruelty, that +the only amazement is, how anybody entrusted with the care of children +could dream of any good result from such a method of impressing a little +girl not eight years old. There was to be an execution in the town of +some wretched malefactor, who was condemned to be guillotined, and I was +told that I should be taken to see this supreme act of legal +retribution, in order that I might know to what end evil courses +conducted people. We all remember the impressive fable of "Don't Care," +who came to be hanged, but I much doubt if any of the thousands of young +Britons whose bosoms have been made to thrill with salutary terror at +his untimely end were ever taken by their parents and guardians to see a +hanging, by way of enforcing the lesson. Whether it was ever intended +that I should witness the ghastly spectacle of this execution, or +whether it was expressly contrived that I should come too late, I know +not; it is to be hoped that my doing so was not accidental, but +mercifully intentional. Certain it is, that when I was taken to the +Grande Place the slaughter was over; but I saw the guillotine, and +certain gutters running red with what I was told <a name="Page_28" id="Page_28" ></a><span class="pagenum">[28]</span>(whether truly or not) +was blood, and a sad-looking man, busied about the terrible machine, +who, it was said, was the executioner's son; all which lugubrious +objects, no doubt, had their due effect upon my poor childish +imagination and nervous system, with a benefit to my moral nature which +I should think highly problematical.</p> + +<p>The experiments tried upon the minds and souls of children by those who +undertake to train them, are certainly among the most mysterious of +Heaven-permitted evils. The coarse and cruel handling of these +wonderfully complex and delicate machines by ignorant servants, ignorant +teachers, and ignorant parents, fills one with pity and with amazement +that the results of such processes should not be even more disastrous +than they are.</p> + +<p>In the nature of many children exists a capacity of terror equalled in +its intensity only by the reticence which conceals it. The fear of +ridicule is strong in these sensitive small souls, but even that is +inadequate to account for the silent agony with which they hug the +secret of their fear. Nursery and schoolroom authorities, fonder of +power than of principle, find their account in both these tendencies, +and it is marvellous to what a point tyranny may be exercised by means +of their double influence over children, the sufferers never having +recourse to the higher parental authority by which they would be +delivered from the nightmare of silent terror imposed upon them.</p> + +<p>The objects that excite the fears of children are often as curious and +unaccountable as their secret intensity. A child four years of age, who +was accustomed to be put to bed in a dressing-room opening into her +mother's room, and near her nursery, and was left to go to sleep alone, +from a desire that she should not be watched and lighted to sleep (or in +fact kept awake, after a very common nursery practice), endured this +discipline without remonstrance, and only years afterwards informed her +mother that she never was so left in her little bed, alone in the +darkness, without a full conviction that a large black dog was lying +under it, which terrible imagination she never so much as hinted at, or +besought for light or companionship to dispel. Miss Martineau told me +once, that a special object of horror to her, when she was a child, were +the colors of the prism, a thing in itself so beautiful, that it is +difficult to conceive how any imagination could be painfully impressed +by it; but her terror of these magical colors was such, that she used to +rush past the room, even when the door was closed, where she had seen +them reflected from the chandelier, by the sunlight, on the wall.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29" ></a><span class="pagenum">[29]</span>The most singular instance I ever knew, however, of unaccountable terror +produced in a child's mind by the pure action of its imagination, was +that of a little boy who overheard a conversation between his mother and +a friend upon the subject of the purchase of some stuff, which she had +not bought, "because," said she, "it was ell wide." The words "ell +wide," perfectly incomprehensible to the child, seized upon his fancy, +and produced some image of terror by which for a long time his poor +little mind was haunted. Certainly this is a powerful instance, among +innumerable and striking ones, of the fact that the fears of children +are by no means the result of the objects of alarm suggested to them by +the ghost-stories, bogeys, etc., of foolish servants and companions; +they quite as often select or create their terrors for themselves, from +sources so inconceivably strange, that all precaution proves ineffectual +to protect them from this innate tendency of the imaginative faculty. +This "ell wide" horror is like something in a German story. The strange +aversion, coupled with a sort of mysterious terror, for beautiful and +agreeable or even quite commonplace objects, is one of the secrets of +the profound impression which the German writers of fiction produce. It +belongs peculiarly to their national genius, some of whose most striking +and thrilling conceptions are pervaded with this peculiar form of the +sentiment of fear. Hoffman and Tieck are especially powerful in their +use of it, and contrive to give a character of vague mystery to simple +details of prosaic events and objects, to be found in no other works of +fiction. The terrible conception of the <i>Doppelgänger</i>, which exists in +a modified form as the wraith of Scottish legendary superstition, is +rendered infinitely more appalling by being taken out of its misty +highland half-light of visionary indefiniteness, and produced in +frock-coat and trousers, in all the shocking distinctness of +commonplace, everyday, contemporary life. The Germans are the only +people whose imaginative faculty can cope with the homeliest forms of +reality, and infuse into them <i>vagueness</i>, that element of terror most +alien from familiar things. That they may be tragic enough we know, but +that they have in them a mysterious element of terror of quite +indefinite depth, German writers alone know how to make us feel.</p> + +<p>I do not think that in my own instance the natural cowardice with which +I was femininely endowed was unusually or unduly cultivated in +childhood; but with a highly susceptible and excitable nervous +temperament and ill-regulated imagination, I have suffered from every +conceivable form of terror; and <a name="Page_30" id="Page_30" ></a><span class="pagenum">[30]</span>though, for some inexplicable reason, I +have always had the reputation of being fearless, have really, all my +life, been extremely deficient in courage.</p> + +<p>Very impetuous, and liable to be carried away by any strong emotion, my +entire want of self-control and prudence, I suppose, conveyed the +impression that I was equally without fear; but the truth is that, as a +wise friend once said to me, I have always been "as rash and as cowardly +as a child;" and none of my sex ever had a better right to apply to +herself Shakespeare's line—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A woman, naturally born to fears."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The only agreeable impression I retain of my school-days at Boulogne is +that of the long half-holiday walks we were allowed to indulge in. Not +the two-and-two, dull, dreary, daily procession round the ramparts, but +the disbanded freedom of the sunny afternoon, spent in gathering +wild-flowers along the pretty, secluded valley of the Liane, through +which no iron road then bore its thundering freight. Or, better still, +clambering, straying, playing hide-and-seek, or sitting telling and +hearing fairy tales among the great carved blocks of stone, which lay, +in ignominious purposelessness, around the site on the high, grassy +cliff where Napoleon the First—the Only—had decreed that his triumphal +pillar should point its finger of scorn at our conquered, "pale-faced +shores." Best of all, however, was the distant wandering, far out along +the sandy dunes, to what used to be called "La Gárenne;" I suppose +because of the wild rabbits that haunted it, who—hunted and rummaged +from their burrows in the hillocks of coarse grass by a pitiless pack of +school-girls—must surely have wondered after our departure, when they +came together stealthily, with twitching noses, ears, and tails, what +manner of fiendish visitation had suddenly come and gone, scaring their +peaceful settlement on the silent, solitary sea-shore.</p> + +<p>Before I left Boulogne, the yearly solemnity of the distribution of +prizes took place. This was, at Madame Faudier's, as at all French +schools of that day, a most exciting event. Special examinations +preceded it, for which the pupils prepared themselves with diligent +emulation. The prefect, the sub-prefect, the mayor, the bishop, all the +principal civil and religious authorities of the place, were invited to +honor the ceremony with their presence. The courtyard of the house was +partly inclosed, and covered over with scaffoldings, awnings, and +draperies, under which a stage was erected, and this, together with the +<a name="Page_31" id="Page_31" ></a><span class="pagenum">[31]</span>steps that led to it, was carpeted with crimson, and adorned with a +profusion of flowers. One of the dignified personages, seated around a +table on which the books designed for prizes were exhibited, pronounced +a discourse commendatory of past efforts and hortatory to future ones, +and the pupils, all <i>en grande toilette</i>, and seated on benches facing +the stage, were summoned through the rows of admiring parents, friends, +acquaintances, and other invited guests, to receive the prizes awarded +for excellence in the various branches of our small curriculum. I was +the youngest girl in the school, but I was a quick, clever child, and a +lady, a friend of my family, who was present, told me many years after, +how well she remembered the frequent summons to the dais received by a +small, black-eyed damsel, the <i>cadette</i> of the establishment. I have +considerable doubt that any good purpose could be answered by this +public appeal to the emulation of a parcel of school-girls; but I have +no doubt at all that abundant seeds of vanity, self-love, and love of +display, were sown by it, which bore their bad harvest many a long year +after.</p> + +<p>I left Boulogne when I was almost nine years old, and returned home, +where I remained upwards of two years before being again sent to school. +During this time we lived chiefly at a place called Craven Hill, +Bayswater, where we occupied at different periods three different +houses.</p> + +<p>My mother always had a detestation of London, which I have cordially +inherited. The dense, heavy atmosphere, compounded of smoke and fog, +painfully affected her breathing and oppressed her spirits; and the +deafening clangor of its ceaseless uproar irritated her nerves and +distressed her in a manner which I invariably experience whenever I am +compelled to pass any time in that huge Hubbub. She perpetually yearned +for the fresh air and the quiet of the country. Occupied as my father +was, however, this was an impossible luxury; and my poor mother escaped +as far as her circumstances would allow from London, and towards the +country, by fixing her home at the place I have mentioned. In those days +Tyburnia did not exist; nor all the vast region of Paddingtonian London. +Tyburn turnpike, of nefarious memory, still stood at the junction of +Oxford Road and the Edgeware Road, and between the latter and Bayswater +open fields traversed by the canal, with here and there an isolated +cottage dotted about them, stretched on one side of the high-road; and +on the other, the untidy, shaggy, ravelled-looking selvage of Hyde Park; +not trimmed with shady walks and flower borders and smooth grass and +bright iron railing <a name="Page_32" id="Page_32" ></a><span class="pagenum">[32]</span>as now, but as forbidding in its neglected aspect as +the desolate stretch of uninclosed waste on the opposite side.</p> + +<p>About a mile from Tyburn Gate a lane turned off on the right, following +which one came to a meadow, with a path across its gentle rise which led +to the row of houses called Craven Hill. I do not think there were +twenty in all, and some of them, such as Lord Ferrar's and the Harley +House, were dwellings of some pretension. Even the most modest of them +had pretty gardens in front and behind, and verandas and balconies with +flowering creepers and shrubberies, and a general air of semi-rurality +that cheated my poor mother with a make-believe effect of being, if not +in the country, at any rate out of town. And infinite were the devices +of her love of elegance and comfort produced from the most unpromising +materials, but making these dwellings of ours pretty and pleasant beyond +what could have been thought possible. She had a peculiar taste and +talent for furnishing and fitting up; and her means being always very +limited, her zeal was great for frequenting sales, where she picked up +at reasonable prices quaint pieces of old furniture, which she brought +with great triumph to the assistance of the commonplace upholstery of +our ready-furnished dwellings. Nobody ever had such an eye for the +disposal of every article in a room, at once for greatest convenience +and best appearance; and I never yet saw the apartment into which by her +excellent arrangement she did not introduce an element of comfort and +elegance—a liveable look, which the rooms of people unendowed with that +special faculty never acquire, and never retain, however handsome or +finely fitted up they may be. I am sorry to be obliged to add, however, +that she had a rage for moving her furniture from one place to another, +which never allowed her to let well alone; and not unfrequently her mere +desire for change destroyed the very best results of her own good taste. +We never knew when we might find the rooms a perfect chaos of disorder, +with every chair, table, and sofa "dancing the hayes" in horrid +confusion; while my mother, crimson and dishevelled with pulling and +pushing them hither and thither, was breathlessly organizing new +combinations. Nor could anything be more ludicrous than my father's +piteous aspect, on arriving in the midst of this <i>remue-ménage</i>, or the +poor woman's profound mortification when, finding everything moved from +its last position (for the twentieth time), he would look around, and, +instead of all the commendation she expected, exclaim in dismay, "Why, +bless my soul! what has happened to the room, <i>again</i>!" Our furniture +played an everlasting game <a name="Page_33" id="Page_33" ></a><span class="pagenum">[33]</span>of puss in the corner; and I am thankful that +I have inherited some of my mother's faculty of arranging, without any +of her curious passion for changing the aspect of her rooms.</p> + +<p>A pretty, clever, and rather silly and affected woman, Mrs. Charles +M——, who had a great passion for dress, was saying one day to my +mother, with a lackadaisical drawl she habitually made use of, "What do +you do when you have a headache, or are bilious, or cross, or nervous, +or out of spirits? I always change my dress; it does me so much good!" +"Oh," said my mother, briskly, "I change the furniture." I think she +must have regarded it as a panacea for all the ills of life. Mrs. +Charles M—— was the half-sister of that amiable woman and admirable +actress, Miss Kelly.</p> + +<p>To return to Craven Hill. A row of very fine elm trees was separated +only by the carriage-road from the houses, whose front windows looked +through their branches upon a large, quiet, green meadow, and beyond +that to an extensive nursery garden of enchanting memory, where our +weekly allowances were expended in pots of violets and flower-seeds and +roots of future fragrance, for our small gardens: this pleasant +foreground divided us from the Bayswater Road and Kensington Gardens. At +the back of the houses and their grounds stretched a complete open of +meadow land, with hedgerows and elm trees, and hardly any building in +sight in any direction. Certainly this was better than the smoke and din +of London. To my father, however, the distance was a heavy increase of +his almost nightly labor at the theatre. Omnibuses were no part of +London existence then; a hackney coach (there were no cabs, either +four-wheelers or hansoms) was a luxury to be thought of only +occasionally, and for part of the way; and so he generally wound up his +hard evening's work with a five miles' walk from Covent Garden to Craven +Hill.</p> + +<p>It was perhaps the inconvenience of this process that led to our taking, +in addition to our "rural" residence, a lodging in Gerard Street, Soho. +The house immediately fronts Anne Street, and is now a large +establishment for the sale of lamps. It was a handsome old house, and at +one time belonged to the "wicked" Lord Lyttleton. At the time I speak +of, we occupied only a part of it, the rest remaining in the possession +of the proprietor, who was a picture-dealer, and his collection of dusky +<i>chefs-d'œuvre</i> covered the walls of the passages and staircases with +dark canvas, over whose varnished surface ill-defined figures and +ill-discerned faces seemed to flit, as with some trepidation I ran past +them. The house must have been a curious <a name="Page_34" id="Page_34" ></a><span class="pagenum">[34]</span>as well as a very large one; +but I never saw more of it than our own apartments, which had some +peculiarities that I remember. Our dining-room was a very large, lofty, +ground-floor room, fitted up partially as a library with my father's +books, and having at the farther end, opposite the windows, two heavy, +fluted pillars, which gave it rather a dignified appearance. My mother's +drawing-room, which was on the first floor and at the back of the house, +was oval in shape and lighted only by a skylight; and one entrance to it +was through a small anteroom or boudoir, with looking-glass doors and +ceiling all incrusted with scrolls and foliage and <i>rococo</i> Louis Quinze +style of ornamentation, either in plaster or carved in wood and painted +white. There were back staircases and back doors without number, leading +in all directions to unknown regions; and the whole house, with its +remains of magnificence and curious lumber of objects of art and +<i>vertu</i>, was a very appropriate frame for the traditional ill-repute of +its former noble owner.</p> + +<p>A ludicrous circumstance enough, I remember, occurred, which produced no +little uproar and amusement in one of its dreariest chambers. My brother +John was at this time eagerly pursuing the study of chemistry for his +own amusement, and had had an out-of-the-way sort of spare bedroom +abandoned to him for his various ill savored materials and scientific +processes, from which my mother suffered a chronic terror of sudden +death by blowing up. There was a monkey in the house, belonging to our +landlord, and generally kept confined in his part of it, whence the +knowledge of his existence only reached us through anecdotes brought by +the servants. One day, however, an alarm was spread that the monkey had +escaped from his own legitimate quarters and was running wild over the +house. Chase was given, and every hole and corner searched in vain for +the mischievous ape, who was at length discovered in what my brother +dignified by the title of his laboratory, where, in a frenzy of gleeful +activity, he was examining first one bottle and then another; finally he +betook himself, with indescribably grotesque grinnings and chatterings, +to uncorking and sniffing at them, and then pouring their contents +deliberately out on the (luckily carpetless) floor,—a joke which might +have had serious results for himself, as well as the house, if he had +not in the midst of it suffered ignoble capture and been led away to his +own quarters; my mother that time, certainly, escaping imminent "blowing +up."</p> + +<p>While we were living in Gerard Street, my uncle Kemble came for a short +time to London from Lausanne, where he had <a name="Page_35" id="Page_35" ></a><span class="pagenum">[35]</span>fixed his +residence—compelled to live abroad, under penalty of seeing the private +fortune he had realized by a long life of hard professional labor swept +into the ruin which had fallen upon Covent Garden Theatre, of which he +was part proprietor. And I always associate this my only recollection of +his venerable white hair and beautiful face, full of an expression of +most benign dignity, with the earliest mention I remember of that +luckless property, which weighed like an incubus upon my father all his +life, and the ruinous burden of which both I and my sister successively +endeavored in vain to prop.</p> + +<p>My mother at this time gave lessons in acting to a few young women who +were preparing themselves for the stage; and I recollect very well the +admiration my uncle expressed for the beauty of one of them, an +extremely handsome Miss Dance, who, I think, came out successfully, but +soon married, and relinquished her profession.</p> + +<p>This young lady was the daughter of a violinist and musical composer, +whose name has a place in my memory from seeing it on a pretty musical +setting for the voice of some remarkably beautiful verses, the author of +which I have never been able to discover. I heard they had been taken +out of that old-fashioned receptacle for stray poetical gems, the poet's +corner of a country newspaper. I write them here as accurately as I can +from memory; it is more than fifty years since I learnt them, and I have +never met with any copy of them but that contained in the old music +sheet of Mr. Dance's duet.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">SONG OF THE SPIRIT OF MORN.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now on their couch of rest<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Mortals are sleeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While in dark, dewy vest,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Flowerets are weeping.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere the last star of night<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fades in the fountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My finger of rosy light<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Touches the mountain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far on his filmy wing<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Twilight is wending,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shadows encompassing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Terrors attending:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While my foot's fiery print,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Up my path showing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gleams with celestial tint.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Brilliantly glowing,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<a name="Page_36" id="Page_36" ></a><span class="pagenum">[36]</span> +<span class="i0">Now from my pinions fair<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Freshness is streaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from my yellow hair<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Glories are gleaming.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature with pure delight<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hails my returning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Sol, from his chamber bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Crowns the young morning.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>My uncle John returned to Switzerland, and I never saw him again; he had +made over his share of Covent Garden to my father, and went back to live +and die in peace at his Beau Site on the Lake of Geneva.</p> + +<p>The first time that I visited Lausanne I went to his grave, and found it +in the old burial-ground above the town, where I wonder the dead have +patience to lie still, for the glorious beauty of the view their +resting-place commands. It was one among a row of graves with broad, +flat tombstones bearing English names, and surrounded with iron +railings, and flowers more or less running wild.</p> + +<p>My father received the property my uncle transferred to him with +cheerful courage, and not without sanguine hopes of retrieving its +fortunes: instead of which, it destroyed his and those of his family; +who, had he and they been untrammelled by the fatal obligation of +working for a hopelessly ruined concern, might have turned their labors +to far better personal account. Of the eighty thousand pounds which my +uncle sank in building Covent Garden, and all the years of toil my +father and myself and my sister sank in endeavoring to sustain it, +nothing remained to us at my father's death; not even the ownership of +the only thing I ever valued the property for,—the private box which +belonged to us, the yearly rent of which was valued at three hundred +pounds, and the possession of which procured us for several years many +evenings of much enjoyment.</p> + +<p>The only other recollection I have connected with Gerard Street is that +of certain passages from "Paradise Lost," read to me by my father, the +sonorous melody of which so enchanted me, that for many years of my life +Milton was to me incomparably the first of English poets; though at this +time of my earliest acquaintance with him, Walter Scott had precedence +over him, and was undoubtedly in my opinion greatest of mortal and +immortal bards. His "Marmion" and "Lay of the Last Minstrel" were +already familiar to me. Of Shakespeare at this time, and for many +subsequent years, I knew not a single line.</p> + +<p>While our lodging in town was principally inhabited by my <a name="Page_37" id="Page_37" ></a><span class="pagenum">[37]</span>father and +resorted to by my mother as a convenience, my aunt Dall, and we +children, had our home at my mother's <i>rus in urbe</i>, Craven Hill, where +we remained until I went again to school in France.</p> + +<p>Our next door neighbors were, on one side, a handsome, dashing Mrs. +Blackshaw, sister of George the Fourth's favorite, Beau Brummel, whose +daughters were good friends of ours; and on the other Belzoni, the +Egyptian traveller, and his wife, with whom we were well acquainted. The +wall that separated our gardens was upwards of six feet high,—it +reached above my father's head, who was full six feet tall,—but our +colossal friend, the Italian, looked down upon us over it quite easily, +his large handsome face showing well above it, down to his magnificent +auburn beard, which in those less hirsute days than these he seldom +exhibited, except in the privacy of his own back garden, where he used +occasionally to display it, to our immense delight and astonishment. +Great, too, was our satisfaction in visiting Madame Belzoni, who used to +receive us in rooms full of strange spoils, brought back by herself and +her husband from the East; she sometimes smoked a long Turkish pipe, and +generally wore a dark blue sort of caftan, with a white turban on her +head. Another of our neighbors here was Latour, the musical composer, to +whom, though he was personally good-natured and kind to me, I owe a +grudge, for the sake of his "Music for Young Persons," and only regret +that he was not our next-door neighbor, when he would have execrated his +own "O Dolce Concerto," and "Sul Margine d'un Rio," and all his +innumerable progeny of variations for two hands and four hands, as +heartily as I did. I do not know whether it was instigated by his advice +or not that my mother at this time made me take lessons of a certain Mr. +Laugier, who received pupils at his own house, near Russell Square, and +taught them thorough-bass and counterpoint, and the science of musical +composition. I attended his classes for some time, and still possess +books full of the grammar of music, as profound and difficult a study, +almost, as the grammar of language. But I think I was too young to +derive much benefit from so severe a science, and in spite of my books +full of musical "parsing," so to speak, declensions of chords, and +conjugations of scales, I do not think I learned much from Mr. Laugier, +and, never having followed up this beginning of the real study of music, +my knowledge of it has been only of that empirical and contemptible sort +which goes no further than the end of boarding-school young ladies' +fingers, and sometimes, at any rate, amounts to tolerably skilful <a name="Page_38" id="Page_38" ></a><span class="pagenum">[38]</span>and +accurate execution; a result I never attained, in spite of Mr. Laugier's +thorough-bass and a wicked invention called a chiroplast, for which, I +think, he took out a patent, and for which I suppose all luckless girls +compelled to practice with it thought he ought to have taken out a +halter. It was a brass rod made to screw across the keys, on which were +<i>strung</i>, like beads, two brass frames for the hands, with separate +little cells for the fingers, these being secured to the brass rod +precisely at the part of the instrument on which certain exercises were +to be executed. Another brass rod was made to pass under the wrist in +order to maintain it also in its proper position, and thus incarcerated, +the miserable little hands performed their daily, dreary monotony of +musical exercise, with, I imagine, really no benefit at all from the +irksome constraint of this horrid machine, that could not have been +imparted quite as well, if not better, by a careful teacher. I had, +however, no teacher at this time but my aunt Dall, and I suppose the +chiroplast may have saved her some trouble, by insuring that my +practising, which she could not always superintend, should not be merely +a process of acquiring innumerable bad habits for the exercise of the +patience of future teachers.</p> + +<p>My aunt at this time directed all my lessons, as well as the small +beginnings of my sister's education. My brother John was at Clapham with +Mr. Richardson, who was then compiling his excellent dictionary, in +which labor he employed the assistance of such of his pupils as showed +themselves intelligent enough for the occupation; and I have no doubt +that to this beginning of philological study my brother owed his +subsequent predilection for and addiction to the science of language. My +youngest brother, Henry, went to a day-school in the neighborhood.</p> + +<p>All children's amusements are more or less dramatic, and a theatre is a +favorite resource in most playrooms, and, naturally enough, held an +important place in ours. The printed sheets of small figures, +representing all the characters of certain popular pieces, which we +colored, and pasted on card-board and cut out, and then, by dint of long +slips of wood with a slit at one end, into which their feet were +inserted, moved on and off our small stage; the coloring of the scenery; +and all the arrangement and conduct of the pieces we represented, gave +us endless employment and amusement. My brother John was always manager +and spokesman in these performances, and when we had fitted up our +theatre with a <i>real</i> blue silk curtain that would roll up, and a <i>real</i> +set of foot-lights that would burn, and when he contrived, with some +resin and brimstone and salt put in a <a name="Page_39" id="Page_39" ></a><span class="pagenum">[39]</span>cup and set on fire, to produce a +diabolical sputter and flare and bad smell, significant of the blowing +up of the mill in "The Miller and his Men," great was our exultation. +This piece and "Blue Beard" were our "battle horses," to which we +afterwards added a lugubrious melodrama called "The Gypsy's Curse" (it +had nothing whatever to do with "Guy Mannering"), of which I remember +nothing but some awful doggerel, beginning with—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"May thy path be still in sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May thy dark night know no morrow,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>which used to make my blood curdle with fright.</p> + +<p>About this time I was taken for the first time to a real play, and it +was to that paradise of juvenile spectators, Astley's, where we saw a +Highland horror called "Meg Murdoch, or the Mountain Hag," and a +mythological after-piece called "Hyppolita, Queen of the Amazons," in +which young ladies in very short and shining tunics, with burnished +breastplates, helmets, spears, and shields, performed sundry warlike +evolutions round her Majesty Hyppolita, who was mounted on a snow-white +<i>live</i> charger: in the heat of action some of these fair warriors went +so far as to die, which martial heroism left an impression on my +imagination so deep and delightful as to have proved hitherto indelible.</p> + +<p>At length we determined ourselves to enact something worthy of notice +and approbation, and "Amoroso, King of Little Britain," was selected by +my brother John, our guide and leader in all matters of taste, for the +purpose. "Chrononhotonthologos" had been spoken of, but our youngest +performer, my sister, was barely seven years old, and I doubt if any of +us (but our manager) could have mastered the mere names of that famous +burlesque. Moreover, I think, in the piece we chose there were only four +principal characters, and we contrived to speak the words, and even sing +the songs, so much to our own satisfaction, that we thought we might +aspire to the honor of a hearing from our elders and betters. So we +produced our play before my father and mother and some of their friends, +who had good right (whatever their inclination might have been) to be +critical, for among them were Mr. and Mrs. Liston (the Amoroso and +Coquetinda of the real stage), Mr. and Mrs. Mathews, and Charles Young, +all intimate friends of my parents, whose children were our playmates, +and coadjutors in our performance.</p> + +<p>For Charles Matthews I have always retained a kindly regard for auld +lang syne's sake, though I hardly ever met him after <a name="Page_40" id="Page_40" ></a><span class="pagenum">[40]</span>he went on the +stage. He was well educated, and extremely clever and accomplished, and +I could not help regretting that his various acquirements and many +advantages for the career of an architect, for which his father destined +him, should be thrown away; though it was quite evident that he followed +not only the strong bent of his inclination, but the instinct of the +dramatic genius which he inherited from his eccentric and most original +father, when he adopted the profession of the stage, where, in his own +day, he has been unrivaled in the sparkling vivacity of his performance +of a whole range of parts in which nobody has approached the finish, +refinement, and spirit of his acting. Moreover, his whole demeanor, +carriage, and manner were so essentially those of a gentleman, that the +broadest farce never betrayed him into either coarseness or vulgarity; +and the comedy he acted, though often the lightest of the light, was +never anything in its graceful propriety but high comedy. No member of +the French theatre was ever at once a more finished and a more +delightfully amusing and <i>natural</i> actor.</p> + +<p>Liston's son went into the army when he grew up, and I lost sight of +him.</p> + +<p>With the Rev. Julian Young, son of my dear old friend Charles Young, I +always remained upon the most friendly terms, meeting him with cordial +pleasure whenever my repeated returns to England brought us together, +and allowed us to renew the amicable relations that always subsisted +between us.</p> + +<p>I remember another family friend of ours at this time, a worthy old +merchant of the name of Mitchell, who was my brother John's godfather, +and to whose sombre, handsome city house I was taken once or twice to +dinner. He was at one time very rich, but lost all his fortune in some +untoward speculation, and he used to come and pay us long, sad, silent +visits, the friendly taciturnity of which I always compassionately +attributed to that circumstance, and wished that he had not lost the use +of his tongue as well as his money.</p> + +<p>While we were living at Craven Hill, my father's sister, Mrs. Whitelock, +came to live with us for some time. She was a very worthy but +exceedingly ridiculous woman, in whom the strong peculiarities of her +family were so exaggerated, that she really seemed like a living parody +or caricature of all the Kembles.</p> + +<p>She was a larger and taller woman than Mrs. Siddons, and had a fine, +commanding figure at the time I am speaking of, when she was quite an +elderly person. She was like her brother Stephen in face, with handsome +features, too large and strongly marked for a woman, light gray eyes, +and a light auburn wig, <a name="Page_41" id="Page_41" ></a><span class="pagenum">[41]</span>which, I presume, represented the color of her +previous hair, and which, together with the tall cap that surmounted it, +was always more or less on one side. She had the deep, sonorous voice +and extremely distinct utterance of her family, and an extraordinary +vehemence of gesture and expression quite unlike their quiet dignity and +reserve of manner, and which made her conversation like that of people +in old plays and novels; for she would slap her thigh in emphatic +enforcement of her statements (which were apt to be upon an incredibly +large scale), not unfrequently prefacing them with the exclamation, "I +declare to God!" or "I wish I may die!" all which seemed to us very +extraordinary, and combined with her large size and loud voice used +occasionally to cause us some dismay. My father used to call her Queen +Bess (her name was Elizabeth), declaring that her manners were like +those of that royal <i>un</i>-gentlewoman. But she was a simple-hearted, +sweet-tempered woman, whose harmless peculiarities did not prevent us +all being fond of her.</p> + +<p>She had a great taste and some talent for drawing, which she cultivated +with a devotion and industry unusual in so old a person. I still possess +a miniature copy she made of Clarke's life-size picture of my father as +Cromwell, which is not without merit.</p> + +<p>She was extremely fond of cards, and taught us to play the (even then) +old-fashioned game of quadrille, which my mother, who also liked cards, +and was a very good whist player, said had more variety in it than any +modern game.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Whitelock had been for a number of years in the United States, of +which (then comparatively little known) part of the world she used to +tell us stories that, from her characteristic exaggeration, we always +received with extreme incredulity; but my own experience, subsequent by +many years to hers, has corroborated her marvelous histories of flights +of birds that almost darkened the sun (<i>i.e.</i> threw a passing shadow as +of a cloud upon the ground), and roads with ruts and mud-holes into +which one's carriage sank up to the axle-tree.</p> + +<p>She used to tell us anecdotes of General Washington, to whom she had +been presented and had often seen (his favorite bespeak was always "The +School for Scandal"); and of Talleyrand, whom she also had often met, +and invariably called Prince <i>Tallierande</i>. She was once terrified by +being followed at evening, in the streets of Philadelphia, by a red +Indian savage, an adventure which has many times recurred to my mind +while traversing at all hours and in all directions the streets of that +most peaceful Quaker city, distant now by more than a thousand miles +from the <a name="Page_42" id="Page_42" ></a><span class="pagenum">[42]</span>nearest red Indian savage. Congress was sitting in Philadelphia +at that time; it was virtually the capital of the newly made United +States, and Mrs. Whitelock held an agreeable and respectable position +both in private and in public. I have been assured by persons as well +qualified to be critics as Judge Story, Chief-Justice Kent, and Judge +Hopkinson (Moore's friend), that she was an actress of considerable +ability. Perhaps she was; her Kemble name, face, figure, and voice no +doubt helped her to produce a certain effect on the stage; but she must +have been a very imperfectly educated woman. Nothing could be droller +than to see her with Mrs. Siddons, of whom she looked like a clumsy, +badly finished, fair imitation. Her vehement gestures and violent +objurgations contrasted comically with her sister's majestic stillness +of manner; and when occasionally Mrs. Siddons would interrupt her with, +"Elizabeth, your wig is on one side," and the other replied, "Oh, is +it?" and giving the offending head-gear a shove put it quite as crooked +in the other direction, and proceeded with her discourse, Melpomene +herself used to have recourse to her snuff-box to hide the dawning smile +on her face.</p> + +<p>I imagine that my education must have been making but little progress +during the last year of my residence at Craven Hill. I had no masters, +and my aunt Dall could ill supply the want of other teachers; moreover, +I was extremely troublesome and unmanageable, and had become a +tragically desperate young person, as my determination to poison my +sister, in revenge for some punishment which I conceived had been +unjustly inflicted upon me, will sufficiently prove. I had been warned +not to eat privet berries, as they were poisonous, and under the above +provocation it occurred to me that if I strewed some on the ground my +sister might find and eat them, which would insure her going straight to +heaven, and no doubt seriously annoy my father and mother. How much of +all this was a lingering desire for the distinction of a public +execution of guillotine (the awful glory of which still survived in my +memory), how much dregs of "Gypsy Curses" and "Mountain Hags," and how +much the passionate love of exciting a sensation and producing an +effect, common to children, servants, and most uneducated people, I know +not. I never did poison my sister, and satisfied my desire of vengeance +by myself informing my aunt of my contemplated crime, the fulfillment of +which was not, I suppose, much apprehended by my family, as no measures +were taken to remove myself, my sister, or the privet bush from each +other's neighborhood.</p> + + + +<hr /><p><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43" ></a><span class="pagenum">[43]</span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + + +<p>A quite unpremeditated inspiration which occurred to me upon being again +offended—to run away—probably alarmed my parents more than my +sororicidal projects, and I think determined them upon carrying out a +plan which had been talked of for some time, of my being sent again to +school; which plan ran a narrow risk of being defeated by my own +attempted escape from home. One day, when my father and mother were both +in London, I had started for a walk with my aunt and sister; when only a +few yards from home, I made an impertinent reply to some reproof I +received, and my aunt bade me turn back and go home, declining my +company for the rest of the walk. She proceeded at a brisk pace on her +way with my sister, nothing doubting that, when left alone, I would +retrace my steps to our house; but I stood still and watched her out of +sight, and then revolved in my own mind the proper course to pursue.</p> + +<p>At first it appeared to me that it would be judicious, under such +smarting injuries as mine, to throw myself into a certain pond which was +in the meadow where I stood (my remedies had always rather an extreme +tendency); but it was thickly coated with green slime studded with +frogs' heads, and looked uninviting. After contemplating it for a +moment, I changed my opinion as to the expediency of getting under that +surface, and walked resolutely off towards London; not with any idea of +seeking my father and mother, but simply with that goal in view, as the +end of my walk.</p> + +<p>Half-way thither, however, I became tired, and hot, and hungry, and +perhaps a little daunted by my own undertaking. I have said that between +Craven Hill and Tyburn turnpike there then was only a stretch of open +fields, with a few cottages scattered over them. In one of these lived a +poor woman who was sometimes employed to do needlework for us, and who, +I was sure, would give me a bit of bread and butter, and let me rest; so +I applied to her for this assistance. Great was the worthy woman's +amazement when I told her that I was alone, on my way to London; greater +still, probably, when I informed her that my intention was to apply for +an engagement at one of the theatres, assuring her that nobody with +talent need ever want for bread. She very wisely refrained from +discussing my projects, but, seeing that I was tired, persuaded me to +lie down in her little bedroom and rest before pursuing my way to town. +<a name="Page_44" id="Page_44" ></a><span class="pagenum">[44]</span>The weather was oppressively hot, and having lain down on her bed, I +fell fast asleep. I know not for how long, but I was awakened by the +sudden raising of the latch of the house door, and the voice of my aunt +Dall inquiring of my friendly hostess if she had seen or heard anything +of me.</p> + +<p>I sat up breathless on the bed, listening, and looking round the room +perceived another door than the one by which I had entered it, which +would probably have given me egress to the open fields again, and +secured my escape; but before I could slip down from the bed and resume +my shoes, and take advantage of this exit, my aunt and poor Mrs. Taylor +entered the room, and I was ignominiously captured and taken home; I +expiated my offence by a week of bread and water, and daily solitary +confinement in a sort of tool-house in the garden, where my only +occupation was meditation, the "clear-obscure" that reigned in my prison +admitting of no other.</p> + +<p>This was not cheerful, but I endeavored to make it appear as little the +reverse as possible, by invariably singing at the top of my voice +whenever I heard footsteps on the gravel walk near my place of +confinement.</p> + +<p>Finally I was released, and was guilty of no further outrage before my +departure for Paris, whither I went with my mother and Mrs. Charles +Matthews at the end of the summer.</p> + +<p>We travelled in the <i>malle poste</i>, and I remember but one incident +connected with our journey. Some great nobleman in Paris was about to +give a grand banquet, and the <i>conducteur</i> of our vehicle had been +prevailed upon to bring up the fish for the occasion in large hampers on +our carriage, which was then the most rapid public conveyance on the +road between the coast and the capital. The heat was intense, and the +smell of our "luggage" intolerable. My mother complained and +remonstrated in vain; the name of the important personage who was to +entertain his guests with this delectable fish was considered an +all-sufficient reply. At length the contents of the baskets began +literally to ooze out of them and stream down the sides of the carriage; +my mother threatening an appeal to the authorities at the <i>bureau de +poste</i>, and finally we got rid of our pestiferous load.</p> + +<p>I was now placed in a school in the Rue d'Angoulême, Champs Élysées; a +handsome house, formerly somebody's private hotel, with <i>porte cochère</i>, +<i>cour d'honneur</i>, a small garden beyond, and large, lofty ground-floor +apartments opening with glass doors upon them. The name of the lady at +the head of this establishment was Rowden; she had kept a school for +<a name="Page_45" id="Page_45" ></a><span class="pagenum">[45]</span>several years in Hans Place, London, and among her former pupils had had +the charge of Miss Mary Russell Mitford, and that clever but most +eccentric personage, Lady Caroline Lamb. The former I knew slightly, +years after, when she came to London and was often in friendly +communication with my father, then manager of Covent Garden, upon the +subject of the introduction on the stage of her tragedy of the +"Foscari."</p> + +<p>The play of "Rienzi," in which Miss Mitford achieved the manly triumph +of a really successful historical tragedy, is, of course, her principal +and most important claim to fame, though the pretty collection of rural +sketches, redolent of country freshness and fragrance, called "Our +Village," precursor, in some sort, of Mrs. Gaskell's incomparable +"Cranford," is, I think, the most popular of Miss Mitford's works.</p> + +<p>She herself has always a peculiar honor in my mind, from the exemplary +devotion of her whole life to her father, for whom her dutiful and +tender affection always seemed to me to fulfil the almost religious idea +conveyed by the old-fashioned, half-heathen phrase of "filial piety."</p> + +<p>Lady Caroline Lamb I never saw, but from friends of mine who were well +acquainted with her I have heard manifold instances of her extraordinary +character and conduct. I remember my friend Mr. Harness telling me that, +dancing with him one night at a great ball, she had suddenly amazed him +by the challenge: "Gueth how many pairth of thtockingth I have on." (Her +ladyship lisped, and her particular graciousness to Mr. Harness was the +result of Lord Byron's school intimacy with and regard for him.) Finding +her partner quite unequal to the piece of divination proposed to him, +she put forth a very pretty little foot, from which she lifted the +petticoat ankle high, lisping out, "Thixth."</p> + +<p>I remember my mother telling me of my father and herself meeting Mr. and +Lady Caroline Lamb at a dinner at Lord Holland's, in Paris, when +accidentally the expected arrival of Lord Byron was mentioned. Mr. Lamb +had just named the next day as the one fixed for their departure; but +Lady Caroline immediately announced her intention of prolonging her +stay, which created what would be called in the French chambers +"sensation."</p> + +<p>When the party broke up, my father and mother, who occupied apartments +in the same hotel as the Lambs,—Meurice's,—were driven into the +court-yard just as Lady Caroline's carriage had drawn up before the +staircase leading to her rooms, which were immediately opposite those of +my father and mother. <a name="Page_46" id="Page_46" ></a><span class="pagenum">[46]</span>A <i>ruisseau</i> or gutter ran round the court-yard, +and intervened between the carriage step and the door of the vestibule, +and Mr. Lamb, taking Lady Caroline, as she alighted, in his arms (she +had a very pretty, slight, graceful figure), gallantly lifted her over +the wet stones; which act of conjugal courtesy elicited admiring +approval from my mother, and from my father a growl to the effect, "If +you were <i>my</i> wife I'd put your ladyship <i>in</i> the gutter," justified +perhaps by their observation of what followed. My mother's sitting-room +faced that of Lady Caroline, and before lights were brought into it she +and my father had the full benefit of a curious scene in the room of +their opposite neighbors, who seemed quite unmindful that their +apartment being lighted and the curtains not drawn, they were, as +regarded the opposite wing of the building, a spectacle for gods and +men.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lamb on entering the room sat down on the sofa, and his wife perched +herself on the elbow of it with her arm round his neck, which engaging +attitude she presently exchanged for a still more persuasive one, by +kneeling at his feet; but upon his getting up, the lively lady did so +also, and in a moment began flying round the room, seizing and flinging +on the floor cups, saucers, plates,—the whole <i>cabaret</i>,—vases, +candlesticks, her poor husband pursuing and attempting to restrain his +mad moiety, in the midst of which extraordinary scene the curtains were +abruptly closed, and the domestic drama finished behind them, leaving no +doubt, however, in my father's and mother's minds that the question of +Lady Caroline's prolonged stay till Lord Byron's arrival in Paris had +caused the disturbance they had witnessed.</p> + +<p>I never read "Glenarvon," in which, I believe, Lady Caroline is supposed +to have intended to represent her idol, Lord Byron, and the only +composition of hers with which I am acquainted is the pretty song of +"Waters of Elle," of which I think she also wrote the air. She was +undoubtedly very clever, in spite of her silliness, and possessed that +sort of attraction, often as powerful as unaccountable, which belongs +sometimes to women so little distinguished by great personal beauty, +that they have suggested the French observation that "ce sont les femmes +laides qui font les grandes passions." The European women fascinating +<i>par excellence</i> are the Poles; and a celebrated enchantress of that +charming and fantastic race of sirens, the Countess Delphine Potocka, +always reminded me of Lady Caroline Lamb, in the descriptions given of +her by her adorers.</p> + +<p>With Mr. Lamb I never was acquainted till long after Lady <a name="Page_47" id="Page_47" ></a><span class="pagenum">[47]</span>Caroline's +death—after I came out on the stage, when he was Lord Melbourne, and +Prime Minister of England. I was a very young person, and though I often +met him in society, and he took amiable and kindly notice of me, our +intercourse was, of course, a mere occasional condescension on his part.</p> + +<p>He was exceedingly handsome, with a fine person, verging towards the +portly, and a sweet countenance, more expressive of refined, easy, +careless good-humor, than almost any face I ever saw. His beauty was of +too well born and well bred a type to be unpleasantly sensual; but his +whole face, person, expression, and manner conveyed the idea of a +pleasure-loving nature, habitually self-indulgent, and indulgent to +others. He was my <i>beau ideal</i> of an Epicurean philosopher (supposing it +possible that an Epicurean philosopher could have consented to be Prime +Minister of England), and I confess to having read with unbounded +astonishment the statement in the "Greville Memoirs," that this apparent +prince of <i>poco curanti</i> had taken the pains to make himself a profound +Hebrew scholar.</p> + +<p>I retain one very vivid impression of that most charming of debonair +noblemen, Lord Melbourne. I had the honor of dining at his house once, +with the beautiful, highly gifted, and unfortunate woman with whom his +relations afterwards became subject of such cruel public scandal; and +after dinner I sat for some time opposite a large, crimson-covered +ottoman, on which Lord Melbourne reclined, surrounded by those three +enchanting Sheridan sisters, Mrs. Norton, Mrs. Blackwood (afterwards +Lady Dufferin), and Lady St. Maur (afterwards Duchess of Somerset, and +always Queen of Beauty). A more remarkable collection of comely +creatures, I think, could hardly be seen, and taking into consideration +the high rank, eminent position, and intellectual distinction of the +four persons who formed that beautiful group, it certainly was a picture +to remain impressed upon one's memory.</p> + +<p>To return to my school-mistress, Mrs. Rowden; she was herself an +authoress, and had published a poem dedicated to Lady Bessborough (Lady +Caroline Lamb's mother), the title of which was "The pleasures of +friendship" (hope, memory, and imagination were all bespoken), of which +I remember only the two opening lines—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Visions of early youth, ere yet ye fade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let my light pen arrest your fleeting shade."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Mrs. Rowden, during the period of her school-keeping in London, was an +ardent admirer of the stage in general and of <a name="Page_48" id="Page_48" ></a><span class="pagenum">[48]</span>my uncle John in +particular, of whom the mezzotint engraving as Coriolanus, from +Lawrence's picture, adorned her drawing-room in the Rue d'Angoulême, +where, however, the nature and objects of her enthusiasm had undergone a +considerable change: for when I was placed under her charge, theatres +and things theatrical had given place in her esteem to churches and +things clerical; her excitements and entertainments were Bible-meetings, +prayer-meetings, and private preachings and teachings of religion. She +was what was then termed Methodistical, what would now be designated as +very Low Church. We were taken every Sunday either to the chapel of the +embassy or to the Église de l'Oratoire (French Protestant worship), to +two and sometimes to three services; and certainly Sunday was no day of +rest to us, as we were required to write down from memory the sermons we +had heard in the course of the day, and read them aloud at our evening +devotional gathering. Some of us had a robust power of attention and +retention, and managed these reproductions with tolerable fidelity. +Others contrived to bring forth such a version of what they had heard as +closely resembled the last edition of the subject-matter of a prolonged +game of Russian scandal. Sometimes, upon an appeal to mercy and a solemn +protest that we had paid the utmost attention and <i>couldn't</i> remember a +single sentence of the Christian exhortation we had heard, we were +allowed to choose a text and compose an original sermon of our own; and +I think a good-sized volume might have been made of homilies of my +composition, indited under these circumstances for myself and my +companions. I have always had rather an inclination for preaching, of +which these exercises were perhaps the origin, and it is but a few years +ago that I received at Saint Leonard's a visit from a tottering, feeble +old lady of near seventy, whose name, unheard since, carried me back to +my Paris school-days, and who, among other memories evoked to recall +herself to my recollection, said, "Oh, don't you remember how +good-natured you were in writing such nice sermons for me when I never +could write down what I had heard at church?" Her particular share in +these intellectual benefits conferred by me I did not remember, but I +remembered well and gratefully the sweet, silver-toned voice of her +sister, refreshing the arid atmosphere of our dreary Sunday evenings +with Handel's holy music. "I know that my Redeemer liveth," and "He +shall feed his Flock," which I heard for the first time from that gentle +schoolmate of mine, recall her meek, tranquil face and, liquid thread of +delicate soprano voice, even through the glorious associations <a name="Page_49" id="Page_49" ></a><span class="pagenum">[49]</span>of Jenny +Lind's inspired utterance of those divine songs. These ladies were +daughters of a high dignitary of the English Church, which made my +sermon-writing for their succor rather comical. Besides these Sunday +exercises, we were frequently taken to week-day services at the Oratoire +to hear some special preacher of celebrity, on which occasions of devout +dissipation Mrs. Rowden always appeared in the highest state of elation, +and generally received distinguished notice from the clerical hero of +the evening.</p> + +<p>I remember accompanying her to hear Mr. Lewis Wade, a celebrated +missionary preacher, who had been to Syria and the Holy Land, and +brought thence observations on subjects sacred and profane that made his +discourses peculiarly interesting and edifying.</p> + +<p>I was also taken to hear a much more impressive preacher, Mr. César +Malan, of Geneva, who addressed a small and select audience of very +distinguished persons, in a magnificent <i>salon</i> in some great private +house, where every body sat on satin and gilded <i>fauteuils</i> to receive +his admonitions, all which produced a great effect on my mind—not, +however, I think, altogether religious; but the sermon I heard, and the +striking aspect of the eloquent person who delivered it, left a strong +and long impression on my memory. It was the first fine preaching I ever +heard, and though I was undoubtedly too young to appreciate it duly, I +was, nevertheless, deeply affected by it, and it gave me my earliest +experience of that dangerous thing, emotional religion, or, to speak +more properly, religious excitement.</p> + +<p>The Unitarians of the United States have in my time possessed a number +of preachers of most remarkable excellence; Dr. Channing, Dr. Dewey, Dr. +Bellows, my own venerable and dear pastor, Dr. Furness, Dr. Follen, +William and Henry Ware, being all men of extraordinary powers of +eloquence. At home I have heard Frederick Maurice and Dean Stanley, but +the most impressive preaching I ever heard in England was still from a +Unitarian pulpit; James Martineau, I think, surpassed all the very +remarkable men I have named in the wonderful beauty and power, +spirituality and solemnity, of his sacred teaching. Frederick Robertson, +to my infinite loss and sorrow, I never heard, having been deterred from +going to hear him by his reputation of a "fashionable preacher;" he, +better than any one, would have understood my repugnance to that species +of religious instructor.</p> + +<p>Better, in my judgment, than these occasional appeals to <a name="Page_50" id="Page_50" ></a><span class="pagenum">[50]</span>our feelings +and imaginations under Mrs. Rowden's influence, was the constant <i>use</i> +of the Bible among us. I cannot call the reading and committing to +memory of the Scriptures, as we performed those duties, by the serious +name of study. But the Bible was learnt by heart in certain portions and +recited before breakfast every morning, and read aloud before bedtime +every evening by us; and though the practice may be open to some +objections, I think they hardly outweigh the benefit bestowed upon young +minds by early familiar acquaintance with the highest themes, the +holiest thoughts, and the noblest words the world possesses or ever will +possess. To me my intimate knowledge of the Bible has always seemed the +greatest benefit I derived from my school training.</p> + +<p>Of the secular portion of the education we received, the French lady who +was Mrs. Rowden's partner directed the principal part. Our lessons of +geography, grammar, history, arithmetic, and mythology (of which latter +subject I suspect we had a much more thorough knowledge than is at all +usual with young English girls) were conducted by her.</p> + +<p>These studies were all pursued in French, already familiar to me as the +vehicle of my elementary acquirements at Boulogne; and this soon became +the language in which I habitually wrote, spoke, and thought, to the +almost entire neglect of my native tongue, of which I never thoroughly +studied the grammar till I was between fifteen and sixteen, when, on my +presenting, in a glow of vanity, some verses of mine to my father, he +said, with his blandest smile, after reading them, "Very well, very +pretty indeed! My dear, don't you think, before you write poetry, you +had better learn grammar?" a suggestion which sent me crestfallen to a +diligent study of Lindley Murray. But grammar is perfectly uncongenial +matter to me, which my mind absolutely refuses to assimilate. I have +learned Latin, English, French, Italian, and German grammar, and do not +know a single rule of the construction of any language whatever. More +over, to the present day, my early familiar use of French produces +uncertainty in my mind as to the spelling of all words that take a +double consonant in French and only one in English, as apartment, enemy, +etc.</p> + +<p>The men of my family—that is, my uncle John, my father, and my eldest +brother—were all philologists, and extremely fond of the study of +language. Grammar was favorite light reading, and the philosophy which +lies at the root of human speech a frequent subject of discussion and +research with them; but they none of them spoke foreign languages with +ease or <a name="Page_51" id="Page_51" ></a><span class="pagenum">[51]</span>fluency. My uncle was a good Latin scholar, and read French, +Italian, and Spanish, but spoke none of them; not even the first, in +spite of his long residence in French Switzerland. The same was the case +with my father, whose delight in the dry bones of language was such that +at near seventy he took the greatest pleasure in assiduously studying +the Greek grammar. My brother John, who was a learned linguist, and +familiar with the modern European languages, spoke none of them well, +not even German, though he resided for many years at Hanover, where he +was curator of the royal museum and had married a German wife, and had +among his most intimate friends and correspondents both the Grimms, +Gervinus, and many of the principal literary men of Germany. My sister +and myself, on the contrary, had remarkable facility in speaking foreign +languages with the accent and tune (if I may use the expression) +peculiar to each; a faculty which seems to me less the result of early +training and habit, than of some particular construction of ear and +throat favorable for receiving and repeating mere sounds; a musical +organization and mimetic faculty; a sort of mocking-bird specialty, +which I have known possessed in great perfection by persons with whom it +was in no way connected with the study, but only with the use of the +languages they spoke with such idiomatic ease and grace. Moreover, in my +own case, both in Italian and German, though I understand for the most +part what I read and what is said in these languages, I have had but +little exercise in speaking them, and have been amused to find myself, +while travelling, taken for an Italian as well as for a German, simply +by dint of the facility with which I imitated the accent of the people I +was among, while intrepidly confounding my moods, tenses, genders, and +cases in the determination to speak and make myself understood in the +language of whatever country I was passing through.</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle Descuillès, Mrs. Rowden's partner, was a handsome woman of +about thirty, with a full, graceful figure, a pleasant countenance, a +great deal of playful vivacity of manner, and very determined and strict +notions of discipline. Active, energetic, intelligent, and +good-tempered, she was of a capital composition for a governess, the +sort of person to manage successfully all her pupils, and become an +object of enthusiastic devotion to the elder ones whom she admitted to +her companionship.</p> + +<p>She almost always accompanied us when we walked, invariably presided in +the schoolroom, and very generally her eager figure and pleasant, bright +eyes were to be discovered in some corner <a name="Page_52" id="Page_52" ></a><span class="pagenum">[52]</span>of the playground, where, from +a semi-retirement, seated in her fauteuil with book or needlework in +hand, she exercised a quiet but effectual surveillance over her young +subjects.</p> + +<p>She was the active and efficient partner in the concern, Mrs. Rowden the +dignified and representative one. The whole of our course of study and +mode of life, with the exception of our religious training, of which I +have spoken before, was followed under her direction, and according to +the routine of most French schools.</p> + +<p>The monastic rule of loud-reading during meals was observed, and l'Abbé +Millot's "Universal History," of blessed boring memory, was the dry +daily sauce to our diet. On Saturday we always had a half-holiday in the +afternoon, and the morning occupations were feminine rather than +academic.</p> + +<p>Every girl brought into the schoolroom whatever useful needlework, +mending or making, her clothes required; and while one read aloud, the +others repaired or replenished their wardrobes.</p> + +<p>Great was our satisfaction if we could prevail upon Mademoiselle +Descuillès herself to take the book in hand and become the "lectrice" of +the morning; greater still when we could persuade her, while intent upon +her own stitching, to sing to us, which she sometimes did, old-fashioned +French songs and ballads, of which I learnt from her and still remember +some that I have never since heard, that must have long ago died out of +the musical world and left no echo but in my memory. Of two of these I +think the words pretty enough to be worth preserving, the one for its +naïve simplicity, and the other for the covert irony of its reflection +upon female constancy, to which Mademoiselle Descuillès' delivery, with +her final melancholy shrug of the shoulders, gave great effect.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">LE TROUBADOUR<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Un gentil Troubadour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Qui chante et fait la guerre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Revenait chez son père,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rêvant à son amour.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gages de sa valeur,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suspendus à son écharpe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Son épée, et sa harpe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Se croisaient sur son cœur.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Il rencontre en chemin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pelerine jolie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Qui voyage, et qui prie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Un rosaire à la main.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<a name="Page_53" id="Page_53" ></a><span class="pagenum">[53]</span> +<span class="i0">Colerette, à long plis,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cachait sa fine taille,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Un grand chapeau de paille,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ombrait son teint de lys.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O gentil Troubadour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Si tu reviens fidèle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chante un couplet pour celle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Qui bénit ton retour."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Pardonne à mon refus<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pelerine jolie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sans avoir vu ma mie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Je ne chanterai plus."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Et ne la vois-tu pas?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Troubadour fidèle!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Regarde moi—c'est elle!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ouvre lui donc tes bras!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Craignant pour notre amour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">J'allais en pelerine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A la Vierge divine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prier pour ton retour!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Près des tendres amans<br /></span> +<span class="i0">S'élève une chapelle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">L'Ermite qu'on appelle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bénit leurs doux sermens<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Venez en ce saint lieu,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amans du voisinage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faire un pelerinage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A la Mère de Dieu!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The other ballad, though equally an illustration of the days of +chivalry, was written in a spirit of caustic contempt for the fair sex, +which suggests the bitterness of the bard's personal experience:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">LE CHEVALIER ERRANT.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dans un vieux château de l'Andalousie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Au temps où l'amour se montrait constant,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Où Beauté, Valeur, et Galanterie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guidait aux combats un fidèle amant,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Un beau chevalier un soir se présente,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Visière baissée, et la lance en main;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Il vient demander si sa douce amante<br /></span> +<span class="i0">N'est pas (par hasard) chez le châtelain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Noble chevalier! quelle est votre amie?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Demande à son tour le vieux châtelain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Ah! de fleurs d'amour c'est la plus jolie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Elle a teint de rose, et peau de satin,<br /></span> +<a name="Page_54" id="Page_54" ></a><span class="pagenum">[54]</span> +<span class="i0">Elle a de beaux yeux, dont le doux langage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Porte en votre cœur vif enchantment,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Elle a tout enfin—elle est belle,—et sage!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Pauvre chevalier! chercherez longtemps!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Guidez de mes pas l'ardeur incertain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Où dois-je chercher ce que j'ai perdu?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Mon fils, votre soit, hélas! s'en fait peine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ce que vous cherchez ne se trouve plus."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Poursuivez, pourtant, votre long voyage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Et si vouz trouvez un pareil trésor—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne le perdez plus! Adieu, bon voyage!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">L'amant repartit—mais, il cherche encore.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The air of the first of these songs was a very simple and charming +little melody, which my sister, having learnt it from me, adapted to +some English words. The other was an extremely favorite <i>vaudeville</i> +air, repeated constantly in the half-singing dialogue of some of those +popular pieces.</p> + +<p>Our Saturday sewing class was a capital institution, which made most of +us expert needle-women, developed in some the peculiarly lady-like +accomplishment of working exquisitely, and gave to all the useful +knowledge of how to make and mend our own clothes. When I left school I +could make my own dresses, and was a proficient in marking and darning.</p> + +<p>My school-fellows were almost all English, and, I suppose, with one +exception, were young girls of average character and capacity. Elizabeth +P——, a young person from the west of England, was the only remarkable +one among them. She was strikingly handsome, both in face and figure, +and endowed with very uncommon abilities. She was several years older +than myself, and an object of my unbounded school-girl heroine worship. +A daughter of Kiallmark, the musical composer, was also eminent among us +for her great beauty, and always seemed to my girlish fancy what Mary +Queen of Scots must have looked like in her youth.</p> + +<p>Besides pupils, Mrs. Rowden received a small number of parlor boarders, +who joined only in some of the lessons; indeed, some of them appeared to +fulfil no purpose of education whatever by their residence with her. +There were a Madame and Mademoiselle de ——, the latter of whom was +supposed, I believe, to imbibe English in our atmosphere. She bore a +well-known noble French name, and was once visited, to the immense +excitement of all "ces demoiselles," by a brother, in the uniform of the +Royal Gardes du Corps, whose looks were reported (I think rather +mythologically) to be as superb as his attire. In which case he must +have been strikingly unlike his <a name="Page_55" id="Page_55" ></a><span class="pagenum">[55]</span>sister, who was one of the ugliest women +I ever saw; with a disproportionately large and ill-shaped nose and +mouth, and a terrible eruption all over her face. She had, however, an +extremely beautiful figure, exquisite hands and feet, skin as white as +snow, and magnificent hair and eyes; in spite of which numerous +advantages, she was almost repulsively plain: it really seemed as if she +had been the victim of a spell, to have so beautiful a body, and so all +but hideous a face. Besides these French ladies, there was a Miss +McC——, a very delicate, elegant-looking Irishwoman, and a Miss ——, +who, in spite of her noble name, was a coarse and inelegant, but very +handsome Englishwoman. In general, these ladies had nothing to do with +us; they had privileged places at table, formed Mrs. Rowden's evening +circle in the drawing-room, and led (except at meals) a life of +dignified separation from the scholars.</p> + +<p>I remember but two French girls in our whole company: the one was a +Mademoiselle Adèle de ——, whose father, a fanatical Anglomane, wrote a +ridiculous book about England.</p> + +<p>The other French pupil I ought not to have called a companion, or said +that I remembered, for in truth I remember nothing but her funeral. She +died soon after I joined the school, and was buried in the cemetery of +Père la Chaise, near the tomb of Abelard and Eloïse, with rather a +theatrical sort of ceremony. She was followed to her grave by the whole +school, dressed in white, and wearing long white veils fastened round +our heads with white fillets. On each side of the bier walked three +young girls, pall-bearers, in the same maiden mourning, holding in one +hand long streamers of broad white ribbon attached to the bier, and in +the other several white narcissus blossoms.</p> + +<p>The ghostly train and the picturesque mediæval monument, close to which +we paused and clustered to deposit the dead girl in her early +resting-place, formed a striking picture that haunted me for a long +time, and which the smell and sight of the chalk-white narcissus blossom +invariably recalls to me.</p> + +<p>Meantime, the poetical studies, or rather indulgencies of home, had +ceased. No sonorous sounds of Milton's mighty music ever delighted my +ears, and for my almost daily bread of Scott's romantic epics I hungered +and thirsted in vain, with such intense desire, that I at length +undertook to write out "The Lay of the Last Minstrel" and "Marmion" from +memory, so as not absolutely to lose my possession of them. This task I +achieved to a very considerable extent, and found the stirring, +chivalrous stories, and spirited, picturesque verse, a treasure <a name="Page_56" id="Page_56" ></a><span class="pagenum">[56]</span>of +refreshment, when all my poetical diet consisted of "L'Anthologie +française à l'Usage des Demoiselles," and Voltaire's "Henriade," which I +was compelled to learn by heart, and with the opening lines of which I +more than once startled the whole dormitory at midnight, sitting +suddenly up in my bed, and from the midst of perpetual slumbers loudly +proclaiming—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Je chante ce héros qui regna sur la France,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Et par droit de conquête, et par droit de naissance."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>More exciting reading was Madame Cottin's "Mathilde," of which I now got +hold for the first time, and devoured with delight, finishing it one +evening just before we were called to prayers, so that I wept bitterly +during my devotions, partly for the Norman princess and her Saracen +lover, and partly from remorse at my own sinfulness in not being able to +banish them from my thoughts while on my knees and saying my prayers.</p> + +<p>But, to be sure, that baptism in the desert, with the only drop of water +they had to drink, seemed to me the very acme of religious fervor and +sacred self-sacrifice. I wonder what I should think of the book were I +to read it now, which Heaven forefend! The really powerful impression +made upon my imagination and feelings at this period, however, was by my +first reading of Lord Byron's poetry. The day on which I received that +revelation of the power of thought and language remained memorable to me +for many a day after.</p> + +<p>I had occasionally received invitations from Mrs. Rowden to take tea in +the drawing-room with the lady parlor boarders, when my week's report +for "bonne conduite" had been tolerably satisfactory. One evening when I +had received this honorable distinction, and was sitting in sleepy +solemnity on the sofa, opposite my uncle John's black figure in +"Coriolanus," which seemed to grow alternately smaller and larger as my +eyelids slowly drew themselves together and suddenly opened wide, with a +startled consciousness of unworthy drowsiness, Miss H——, who was +sitting beside me, reading, leaned back and put her book before my face, +pointing with her finger to the lines—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"It is the hour when from the boughs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The nightingale's high note is heard."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It would be impossible to describe the emotion I experienced. I was +instantly wide awake, and, quivering with excitement, fastened a grip +like steel upon the book, imploring to be allowed to read on. The fear, +probably, of some altercation loud enough to excite attention to the +subject of her studies <a name="Page_57" id="Page_57" ></a><span class="pagenum">[57]</span>(which I rather think would not have been +approved of, even for a "parlor boarder") prevented Miss H—— from +making the resistance she should have made to my entreaties, and I was +allowed to leave the room, carrying with me the dangerous prize, which, +however, I did not profit by.</p> + +<p>It was bedtime, and the dormitory light burned but while we performed +our night toilet, under supervision. The under teacher and the lamp +departed together, and I confided to the companion whose bed was next to +mine that I had a volume of Lord Byron under my pillow. The emphatic +whispered warnings of terror and dismay with which she received this +information, her horror at the wickedness of the book (of which of +course she knew nothing), her dread of the result of detection for me, +and her entreaties, enforced with tears, that I would not keep the +terrible volume where it was, at length, combined with my own nervous +excitement about it, affected me with such a sympathy of fear that I +jumped out of bed and thrust the fatal poems into the bowels of a straw +<i>paillasse</i> on an empty bed, and returned to my own to remain awake +nearly all night. My study of Byron went no further then: the next +morning I found it impossible to rescue the book unobserved from its +hiding-place, and Miss H——, to whom I confided the secret of it, I +suppose took her own time for withdrawing it, and so I then read no more +of that wonderful poetry, which, in my after days of familiar +acquaintance with it, always affected me like an evil potion taken into +my blood. The small, sweet draught which I sipped in that sleepy +school-salon atmosphere remained indelibly impressed upon my memory, +insomuch that when, during the last year of my stay in Paris, the news +of my uncle John's death at Lausanne, and that of Lord Byron at +Missolonghi, was communicated to me, my passionate regret was for the +great poet, of whose writings I knew but twenty lines, and not for my +own celebrated relation, of whom, indeed, I knew but little.</p> + +<p>It was undoubtedly well that this dangerous source of excitement should +be sealed to me as long as possible; but I do not think that the works +of imagination to which I was allowed free access were of a specially +wholesome or even harmless tendency. The false morality and +attitudinizing sentiment of such books as "Les Contes à ma Fille," and +Madame de Genlis' "Veillées du Château," and "Adèle et Théodore," were +rubbish, if not poison. The novels of Florian were genuine and simple +romances, less mischievous, I incline to think, upon the whole, than the +educational Countess's mock moral sentimentality; <a name="Page_58" id="Page_58" ></a><span class="pagenum">[58]</span>but Chateaubriand's +"Atala et Chactas," with its picturesque pathos, and his powerful +classical novel of "Les Martyrs," were certainly unfit reading for young +girls of excitable feelings and wild imaginations, in spite of the +religious element which I supposed was considered their recommendation.</p> + +<p>One great intellectual good fortune befell me at this time, and that was +reading "Guy Mannering;" the first of Walter Scott's novels that I ever +read—the <i>dearest</i>, therefore. I use the word advisedly, for I know no +other than one of affection to apply to those enchanting and admirable +works, that deserve nothing less than love in return for the healthful +delight they have bestowed. To all who ever read them, the first must +surely be the best; the beginning of what a series of pure enjoyments, +what a prolonged, various, exquisite succession of intellectual +surprises and pleasures, amounting for the time almost to happiness.</p> + +<p>Scott, like Shakespeare, has given us, for intimate acquaintance, +companions, and friends, men and women of such peculiar individual +nobleness, grace, wit, wisdom, and humor, that they people our minds and +recur to our thoughts with a vividness which makes them seem rather to +belong to the past realities of the memory, than to the shadowy visions +of the imagination.</p> + +<p>It was not long before all this imaginative stimulus bore its legitimate +fruit in a premature harvest of crude compositions which I dignified +with the name of poetry. Rhymes I wrote without stint or stopping—a +perfect deluge of doggerel; what became of it all I know not, but I have +an idea that a manuscript volume was sent to my poor parents, as a +sample of the poetical promise supposed to be contained in these unripe +productions.</p> + +<p>Besides the studies pursued by the whole school under the tuition of +Mademoiselle Descuillès, we had special masters from whom we took +lessons in special branches of knowledge. Of these, by far the most +interesting to me, both in himself and in the subject of his teachings, +was my Italian master, Biagioli.</p> + +<p>He was a political exile, of about the same date as his remarkable +contemporary, Ugo Foscolo; his high forehead, from which his hair fell +back in a long grizzled curtain, his wild, melancholy eyes, and the +severe and sad expression of his face, impressed me with some awe and +much pity. He was at that time one of the latest of the long tribe of +commentators on Dante's "Divina Commedia." I do not believe his +comment<a name="Page_59" id="Page_59" ></a><span class="pagenum">[59]</span>ary ranks high among the innumerable similar works on the great +Italian poem; but in violence of abuse, and scornful contempt of all but +his own glosses, he yields to none of his fellow-laborers in that vast +and tangled poetical, historical, biographical, philosophical, +theological, and metaphysical jungle.</p> + +<p>Dante was his spiritual consolation, his intellectual delight, and +indeed his daily bread; for out of that tremendous horn-book he taught +me to stammer the divine Italian language, and illustrated every lesson, +from the simplest rule of its syntax to its exceedingly complex and +artificially constructed prosody, out of the pages of that sublime, +grotesque, and altogether wonderful poem. My mother has told me that she +attributed her incapacity for relishing Milton to the fact of "Paradise +Lost" having been used as a lesson-book out of which she was made to +learn English—a circumstance which had made it for ever "Paradise +<i>Lost</i>" to her. I do not know why or how I escaped a similar misfortune +in my school-girl study of Dante, but luckily I did so, probably being +carried over the steep and stony way with comparative ease by the help +of my teacher's vivid enthusiasm. I have forgotten my Italian grammar, +rules of syntax and rules of prosody alike, but I read and re-read the +"Divina Commedia" with ever-increasing amazement and admiration. Setting +aside all its weightier claims to the high place it holds among the +finest achievements of human genius, I know of no poem in any language +in which so many single lines and detached passages can be found of +equally descriptive force, picturesque beauty, and delightful melody of +sound; the latter virtue may lie, perhaps, as much in the instrument +itself as in the master hand that touched it—the Italian tongue, the +resonance and vibrating power of which is quite as peculiar as its +liquid softness.</p> + +<p>While the stern face and forlorn figure of poor Biagioli seemed an +appropriate accompaniment to my Dantesque studies, nothing could exceed +the contrast he presented to another Italian who visited us on alternate +days and gave us singing lessons. Blangini, whose extreme popularity as +a composer and teacher led him to the dignity of <i>maestro di capella</i> to +some royal personage, survives only in the recollection of certain +elderly drawing-room nightingales who warbled fifty summers ago, and who +will still hum bits of his pretty Canzoni and Notturni, "Care pupille," +"Per valli per boschi," etc.</p> + +<p>Blangini was a <i>petit maître</i> as well as a singing master; always +attired in the height of the fashion, and in manner and appearance much +more of a Frenchman than an Italian. He was merci<a name="Page_60" id="Page_60" ></a><span class="pagenum">[60]</span>lessly satirical on the +failures of his pupils, to whom (having reduced them, by the most +ridiculous imitation of their unfortunate vocal attempts, to an almost +inaudible utterance of <i>pianissimo</i> pipings) he would exclaim, "Ma per +carità! aprite la bocca! che cantate come uccelli che dormano!"</p> + +<p>My music master, as distinguished from my singing master, was a worthy +old Englishman of the name of Shaw, who played on the violin, and had +been at one time leader of the orchestra at Covent Garden Theatre. +Indeed, it was to him that John Kemble addressed the joke (famous, +because in his mouth unique) upon the subject of a song in the piece of +"Richard Cœur de Lion"—I presume an English version of Gietry's +popular romance, "O Richard, O mon Roi!" This Mr. Shaw was painfully +endeavoring to teach my uncle, who was entirely without musical ear, and +whose all but insuperable difficulty consisted in repeating a few bars +of the melody supposed to be sung under his prison window by his +faithful minstrel, Blondel. "Mr. Kemble, Mr. Kemble, you are murdering +the time, sir!" cried the exasperated musician; to which my uncle +replied, "Very well, sir, and you are forever beating it!" I do not know +whether Mrs. Rowden knew this anecdote, and engaged Mr. Shaw because he +had elicited this solitary sally from her quondam idol, John Kemble. The +choice, whatever its motive, was not a happy one. The old leader of the +theatrical orchestra was himself no piano-forte player, could no longer +see very well nor hear very well, and his principal attention was +directed to his own share of the double performance, which he led much +after the careless, slap-bang style in which overtures that nobody +listened to were performed in his day. It is a very great mistake to let +learners play with violin accompaniment until they have thoroughly +mastered the piano-forte without it. Fingering, the first of fundamental +acquirements, is almost sure to be overlooked by the master, whose +attention is not on the hands of his pupil but on his own bow; and the +pupil, anxious to keep up with the violin, slurs over rapid passages, +scrambles through difficult ones, and acquires a general habit of merely +following the violin in time and tune, to the utter disregard of steady, +accurate execution. As for me, I derived but one benefit from my old +violin accompanier, that of becoming a good timist; in every other +respect I received nothing but injury from our joint performances, +getting into incorrigible habits of bad fingering, and of making up my +bass with unscrupulous simplifications of the harmony, quite content if +I came in with my final chords well thumped in time and tune with the +<a name="Page_61" id="Page_61" ></a><span class="pagenum">[61]</span>emphatic scrape of the violin that ended our lesson. The music my master +gave me, too, was more in accordance with his previous practice as +leader of a theatrical orchestra, than calculated to make me a steady +and scrupulous executant.</p> + +<p>We had another master for French and Latin—a clever, ugly, impudent, +snuffy, dirty little man, who wrote vaudevilles for the minor theaters, +and made love to his pupils. Both these gentlemen were superseded in +their offices by other professors before I left school: poor old Pshaw +Pshaw, as we used to call him, by the French composer, Adam, unluckily +too near the time of my departure for me to profit by his strict and +excellent method of instruction; and our vaudevillist was replaced by a +gentleman of irreproachable manners, and I should think morals, who +always came to our lessons <i>en toilette</i>—black frock-coat and +immaculate white waistcoat, unexceptionable boots and gloves—by dint of +all which he ended by marrying our dear Mademoiselle Descuillès (who, +poor thing, was but a woman after all, liable to charming by such +methods), and turning her into Madame Champy, under which name she +continued to preside over the school after I left it; and Mrs. Rowden +relinquished her share in the concern—herself marrying, and becoming +Mrs. St. Quintin.</p> + +<p>I have spoken of my learning Latin: Elizabeth P——, the object in all +things of my emulous admiration, studied it, and I forthwith begged +permission to do so likewise; and while this dead-language ambition +possessed me, I went so far as to acquire the Greek alphabet; which, +however, I used only as a cipher for "my secrets," and abandoned my +Latin lore, just as I had exchanged my Phædrus for Cornelius Nepos, not +even attaining to the "Arma virumque cano."</p> + +<p>Nobody but Miss P—— and myself dabbled in these classical depths, but +nearly the whole school took dancing lessons, which were given us by two +masters, an old and young Mr. Guillet, father and son: the former, a +little dapper, dried-up, wizen-faced, beak-nosed old man, with a brown +wig that fitted his head and face like a Welsh night-cap; who played the +violin and stamped in time, and scolded and made faces at us when we +were clumsy and awkward; the latter, a highly colored, beak-nosed young +gentleman who squinted fearfully with magnificent black eyes, and had +one shining, oily wave of blue-black hair, which, departing from above +one ear, traversed his forehead in a smooth sweep, and ended in a +frizzly breaker above the other. This gentleman showed us our steps, and +gave us the examples of graceful ability of which his father was no +<a name="Page_62" id="Page_62" ></a><span class="pagenum">[62]</span>longer capable. I remember a very comical scene at one of our dancing +lessons, occasioned by the first appearance of a certain Miss ——, who +entered the room, to the general amazement, in full evening costume—a +practice common, I believe, in some English schools where "dressing for +dancing" prevails. We only put on light prunella slippers instead of our +heavier morning shoes or boots, and a pair of gloves, as adequate +preparation. Moreover, the French fashion for full dress, of that day, +did not sanction the uncovering of the person usual in English evening +attire.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + + +<p>Great was the general surprise of the dancing class when this large, +tall, handsome English girl, of about eighteen, entered the room in a +rose-colored silk dress, with very low neck and very short sleeves, +white satin shoes, and white kid gloves; her long auburn ringlets and +ivory shoulders glancing in the ten o'clock morning sunlight with a sort +of incongruous splendor, and her whole demeanor that of the most +innocent and modest tranquillity.</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle Descuillès shut her book to with a snap, and sat bolt +upright and immovable, with eyes and mouth wide open. Young Mr. Guillet +blushed purple, and old Mr. Guillet scraped a few interjections on his +fiddle, and then, putting it down, took a resonant pinch of snuff, by +way of restoring his scattered senses.</p> + +<p>No observation was made, however, and the lesson proceeded, young Mr. +Guillet turning scarlet each time either of his divergent orbs of vision +encountered his serenely unconscious, full-dressed pupil; which +certainly, considering that he was a member of the Grand Opera <i>corps de +ballet</i>, was a curious instance of the purely conventional ideas of +decency which custom makes one accept.</p> + +<p>Whatever want of assiduity I may have betrayed in my other studies, +there was no lack of zeal for my dancing lessons. I had a perfect +passion for dancing, which long survived my school-days, and I am +persuaded that my natural vocation was that of an opera dancer. Far into +middle life I never saw beautiful dancing without a rapture of +enthusiasm, and used to repeat from memory whole dances after seeing +Duvernay or Ellsler, as persons with a good musical ear can repeat the +airs of the opera first heard the night before. And I remember, <a name="Page_63" id="Page_63" ></a><span class="pagenum">[63]</span>during +Ellsler's visit to America, when I had long left off dancing in society, +being so transported with her execution of a Spanish dance called "El +Jaleo de Xerxes," that I was detected by my cook, who came suddenly upon +me in my store-room, in the midst of sugar, rice, tea, coffee, flour, +etc., standing on the tips of my toes, with my arms above my head, in +one of the attitudes I had most admired in that striking and picturesque +performance. The woman withdrew in speechless amazement, and I alighted +on my heels, feeling wonderfully foolish. How I thought I never should +be able to leave off dancing! And so I thought of riding! and so I +thought of singing! and could not imagine what life would be like when I +could no more do these things. I was not wrong, perhaps, in thinking it +would be difficult to leave them off: I had no conception how easily +they would leave me off.</p> + +<p>Varying our processions in the Champs Élysées were less formal +excursions in the Jardin de Luxembourg; and as the picture-gallery in +the palace was opened gratuitously on certain days of the week, we were +allowed to wander through it, and form our taste for art among the +samples of the modern French school of painting there collected: the +pictures of David, Gérard, Girodet, etc., the Dido and Æneas, the +Romulus and Tatius with the Sabine women interposing between them, +Hippolytus before Theseus and Phædra, Atala being laid in her grave by +her lover—compositions with which innumerable engravings have made +England familiar—the theatrical conception and hard coloring and +execution of which (compensated by masterly grouping and incomparable +drawing) did not prevent their striking our uncritical eyes with +delighted admiration, and making this expedition to the Luxembourg one +of my favorite afternoon recreations. These pictures are now all in the +gallery of the Louvre, illustrating the school of art of the consulate +and early empire of Bonaparte.</p> + +<p>Another favorite promenade of ours, and the one that I preferred even to +the hero-worship of the Luxembourg, was the Parc Monceaux. This estate, +the private property of the Orleans family, confiscated by Louis +Napoleon, and converted into a whole new <i>quartier</i> of his new Paris, +with splendid streets and houses, and an exquisite public flower-garden +in the midst of them, was then a solitary and rather neglected Jardin +Anglais (so called) or park, surrounded by high walls and entered by a +small wicket, the porter of which required a permit of admission before +allowing ingress to the domain. I never remember seeing a single +creature but ourselves in the complete <a name="Page_64" id="Page_64" ></a><span class="pagenum">[64]</span>seclusion of this deserted +pleasaunce. It had grass and fine trees and winding walks, and little +brooks fed by springs that glimmered in cradles of moss-grown, +antiquated rock-work; no flowers or semblance of cultivation, but a +general air of solitude and wildness that recommended it especially to +me, and recalled as little as possible the great, gay city which +surrounded it.</p> + +<p>My real holidays, however (for I did not go home during the three years +I spent in Paris), were the rare and short visits my father paid me +while I was at school. At all other seasons Paris might have been +Patagonia for any thing I saw or heard or knew of its brilliant gayety +and splendid variety. But during those holidays of his and mine, my +enjoyment and his were equal, I verily believe, though probably not (as +I then imagined) perfect. Pleasant days of joyous <i>camaraderie</i> and +<i>flanerie</i>!—in which every thing, from being new to me, was almost as +good as new to my indulgent companion: the Rue de Rivoli, the Tuileries, +the Boulevard, the Palais Royal, the <i>déjeuner à la fourchette</i> at the +Café Riche, the dinner in the small <i>cabinet</i> at the Trois Frères, or +the Cadran Bleu, and the evening climax of the theater on the Boulevard, +where Philippe, or Léontine Fay, or Poitier and Brunet, made a school of +dramatic art of the small stages of the Porte St. Martin, the Variétés, +and the Vaudeville.</p> + +<p>My father's days in Paris, in which he escaped from the hard labor and +heavy anxiety of his theatrical life of actor, manager, and proprietor, +and I from the dull routine of school-room studies and school-ground +recreations, were pleasant days to him, and golden ones in my girlish +calendar. I remember seeing, with him, a piece called "Les deux +Sergens," a sort of modern Damon and Pythias, in which the heroic +friends are two French soldiers, and in which a celebrated actor of the +name of Philippe performed the principal part. He was the predecessor +and model of Frédéric Lemaître, who (himself infinitely superior to his +pupil and copyist, Mr. Fechter, who, by a very feeble imitation of +Lemaître's most remarkable parts, has achieved so much reputation) was +not to be compared with Philippe in the sort of sentimental melodrama of +which "Les deux Sergens" was a specimen.</p> + +<p>This M. Philippe was a remarkable man, not only immensely popular for +his great professional merit, but so much respected for an order of +merit not apt to be enthusiastically admired by Parisians—that of a +moral character and decent life—that at his funeral a very serious riot +occurred, in consequence of the <a name="Page_65" id="Page_65" ></a><span class="pagenum">[65]</span>Archbishop of Paris, according to the +received opinion and custom of the day, refusing to allow him to be +buried in consecrated ground; the profane player's calling, in the year +of grace 1823, or thereabouts, being still one which disqualified its +followers for receiving the sacraments of the Roman Catholic Church, and +therefore, of course, for claiming Christian burial. The general feeling +of the Parisian public, however, was in this case too strong for the +ancient anathema of the Church. The Archbishop of Paris was obliged to +give way, and the dead body of the worthy actor was laid in the sacred +soil of Père la Chaise. I believe that since that time the question has +never again been debated, nor am I aware that there is any one more +peculiarly theatrical cemetery than another in Paris.</p> + +<p>In a letter of Talma's to Charles Young upon my uncle John's death, he +begs to be numbered among the subscribers to the monument about to be +erected to Mr. Kemble in Westminster Abbey; adding the touching remark: +"Pour moi, je serai heureux si les prêtres me laissent enterrer dans un +coin de mon jardin."</p> + +<p>The excellent moral effect of this species of class prejudice is +admirably illustrated by an anecdote I have heard my mother tell. One +evening, when she had gone to the Grand Opera with M. Jouy, the wise and +witty Hermite de la Chaussée d'Antin, talking with him of the career and +circumstances of the young ballet women (she had herself, when very +young, been a dancer on the English stage), she wound up her various +questions with this: "Et y en a-t-il qui sont filles de bonne conduite? +qui sont sages?" "Ma foi!" replied the Hermite, shrugging his shoulders, +"elles auraient grand tort; personne n'y croirait."</p> + +<p>A charming vaudeville called "Michel et Christine," with that charming +actress, Madame Alan Dorval, for its heroine, was another extremely +popular piece at that time, which I went to see with my father. The time +of year at which he was able to come to Paris was unluckily the season +at which all the large theaters were closed. Nevertheless, by some happy +chance, I saw one performance at the Grand Opera of that great dancer +and actress, Bigottini, in the ballet of the "Folle par Amour;" and I +shall never forget the wonderful pathos of her acting and the grace and +dignity of her dancing. Several years after, I saw Madame Pasta in +Paesiello's pretty opera of the "Nina Pazza," on the same subject, and +hardly know to which of the two great artists to assign the palm in +their different expression of the love-crazed girl's despair.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66" ></a><span class="pagenum">[66]</span>I also saw several times, at this period of his celebrity, the +inimitable comic actor, Poitier, in a farce called "Les Danaïdes" that +was making a furor—a burlesque upon a magnificent mythological ballet, +produced with extraordinary splendor of decoration, at the Académie +Royale de Musique, and of which this travesty drew all Paris in crowds; +and certainly any thing more ludicrous than Poitier, as the wicked old +King Danaus, with his fifty daughters, it is impossible to imagine.</p> + +<p>The piece was the broadest and most grotesque quiz of the "grand genre +classique et héroïque," and was almost the first of an order of +entertainments which have gone on increasing in favor up to the present +day of universally triumphant parody and burlesque, by no means as +laughable and by no means as unobjectionable. Indeed, farcical to the +broadest point as was that mythological travesty of "The Danaïdes," it +was the essence of decency and propriety compared with "La grande +Duchesse," "La belle Hélène," "Orphée aux Enfers," "La Biche au Bois," +"Le petit Faust," and all the vile succession of indecencies and +immoralities that the female good society of England in these latter +years has delighted in witnessing, without the help of the mask which +enabled their great-grandmothers to sit out the plays of Wycherley, +Congreve, and Farquhar, chaste and decorous in their crude coarseness +compared with the French operatic burlesques of the present day.</p> + +<p>But by far the most amusing piece in which I recollect seeing Poitier, +was one in which he acted with the equally celebrated Brunet, and in +which they both represented English <i>women</i>—"Les Anglaises pour Rire."</p> + +<p>The Continent was then just beginning to make acquaintance with the +traveling English, to whom the downfall of Bonaparte had opened the +gates of Europe, and who then began, as they have since continued, in +ever-increasing numbers, to carry amazement and amusement from the +shores of the Channel to those of the Mediterranean, by their wealth, +insolence, ignorance, and cleanliness.</p> + +<p>"Les Anglaises pour Rire" was a caricature (if such a thing were +possible) of the English female traveler of that period. Coal-scuttle +poke bonnets, short and scanty skirts, huge splay feet arrayed in +indescribable shoes and boots, short-waisted tight-fitting spencers, +colors which not only swore at each other, but caused all beholders to +swear at them—these were the outward and visible signs of the British +fair of that day. To these were added, in this representation of them by +these French appreciators of their attractions, a mode of speech in +<a name="Page_67" id="Page_67" ></a><span class="pagenum">[67]</span>which the most ludicrous French, in the most barbarous accent, was +uttered in alternate bursts of loud abruptness and languishing drawl. +Sudden, grotesque playfulness was succeeded by equally sudden and +grotesque bashfulness; now an eager intrepidity of wild enthusiasm, +defying all decorum, and then a sour, severe reserve, full of angry and +terrified suspicion of imaginary improprieties. Tittering shyness, all +giggle-goggle and blush; stony and stolid stupidity, impenetrable to a +ray of perception; awkward, angular postures and gestures, and jerking +saltatory motions; Brobdingnag strides and straddles, and kittenish +frolics and friskings; sharp, shrill little whinnying squeals and +squeaks, followed by lengthened, sepulchral "O-h's"—all formed together +such an irresistibly ludicrous picture as made "Les Anglaises pour Rire" +of Poitier and Brunet one of the most comical pieces of acting I have +seen in all my life.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rowden's establishment in Hans Place had been famous for occasional +dramatic representations by the pupils; and though she had become in her +Paris days what in the religious jargon of that day was called serious, +or even methodistical, she winked at, if she did not absolutely +encourage, sundry attempts of a similar sort which her Paris pupils got +up.</p> + +<p>Once it was a vaudeville composed expressly in honor of her birthday by +the French master, in which I had to sing, with reference to her, the +following touching tribute, to a well-known vaudeville tune:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"C'est une mère!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Qui a les premiers droits sur nos cœurs?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Qui partage, d'une ardeur sincère,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Et nos plaisirs et nos douleurs?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">C'est une mère!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I suppose this trumpery was stamped upon my brain by the infinite +difficulty I had in delivering it gracefully, with all the point and all +the pathos the author assured me it contained, at Mrs. Rowden, +surrounded by her friends and guests, and not suggesting to me the +remotest idea of <i>my</i> mother or any body else's mother.</p> + +<p>After this we got up Madame de Genlis' little piece of "L' Isle +Heureuse," in which I acted the accomplished and conceited princess who +is so judiciously rejected by the wise and ancient men of the island, in +spite of the several foreign tongues she speaks fluently, in favor of +the tender-hearted young lady who, in defiance of all sound systems of +political and social economy, always walks about attended by the poor of +the island in a body, to whom she distributes food and clothes <a name="Page_68" id="Page_68" ></a><span class="pagenum">[68]</span>in a +perpetual stream of charity, and whose prayers and blessings lift her +very properly to the throne, while the other young woman is left talking +to all the ambassadors in all their different languages at once.</p> + +<p>Our next dramatic attempt came to a disastrous and premature end. I do +not know who suggested to us the witty and clever little play of +"Roxelane;" the versification of the piece is extremely easy and +graceful, and the preponderance of female characters and convenient +Turkish costume, of turbans and caftans, and loose voluminous trousers, +had appeared to us to combine various advantages for our purpose. +Mademoiselle Descuillès had consented to fill the part of Solyman, the +magnificent and charming Sultan, and I was to be the saucy French +heroine, "dont le nez en l'air semble narguer l'amour," the <i>sémillante</i> +Roxelane. We had already made good progress in the only difficulty our +simple appreciation of matters dramatic presented to our imagination, +the committing the words of our parts to memory, when Mrs. Rowden, from +whom all our preparations on such occasions were kept sacredly secret, +lighted upon the copy of the play, with all the MS. marks and directions +for our better guidance in the performance; and great were our +consternation, dismay, and disappointment when, with the offending +pamphlet in her hand, she appeared in our midst and indignantly forbade +the representation of any such piece, after the following ejaculatory +fashion, and with an accent difficult to express by written signs: "May, +commang! may<i>de</i>mosels, je suis atonnay! May! commang! May<i>de</i>mosel +Descuillès, je suis surprise! Kesse ke say! vous per<i>ma</i>ttay +may<i>de</i>mosels être lay filles d'ung seraglio! je ne vou pau! je vous +defang! je suis biang atonnay!" And so she departed, with our prompter's +copy, leaving us rather surprised, ourselves, at the unsuspected horror +we had been about to perpetrate, and Mademoiselle Descuillès shrugging +her shoulders and smiling, and not probably quite convinced of the +criminality of a piece of which the heroine, a pretty Frenchwoman, +revolutionizes the Ottoman Empire by inducing her Mohammedan lover to +dismiss his harem and confine his affections to her, whom he is supposed +to marry after the most orthodox fashion possible in those parts.</p> + +<p>Our dramatic ardor was considerably damped by this event, and when next +it revived our choice could not be accused of levity. Our aim was +infinitely more ambitious, and our task more arduous. Racine's +"Andromaque" was selected for our <a name="Page_69" id="Page_69" ></a><span class="pagenum">[69]</span>next essay in acting, and was, I +suppose, pronounced unobjectionable by the higher authorities. Here, +however, our mainstay and support, Mademoiselle Descuillès, interposed a +very peculiar difficulty. She had very good-naturedly learned the part +of Solyman, in the other piece, for us, and whether she resented the +useless trouble she had had on that occasion, or disliked that of +committing several hundred of Racine's majestic verses to memory, I know +not; but she declared that she would only act the part of Pyrrhus, which +we wished her to fill, if we would read it aloud to her till she knew +it, while she worked at her needle. Of course we had to accept any +condition she chose to impose upon us, and so we all took it by turns, +whenever we saw her industrious fingers flying through their +never-ending task, to seize up Racine and begin pouring her part into +her ears. She actually learned it so, and our principal difficulty after +so teaching her was to avoid mixing up the part of Pyrrhus, which we had +acquired by the same process, with every other part in the play.</p> + +<p>The dressing of this classical play was even more convenient than our +contemplated Turkish costume could have been. A long white skirt drawn +round the waist, a shorter one, with slits in it for armholes, drawn +round the neck by way of tunic, with dark blue or scarlet Greek pattern +border, and ribbon of the same color for girdle, and sandals, formed a +costume that might have made Rachel or Ristori smile, but which +satisfied all our conceptions of antique simplicity and grace; and so we +played our play.</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle Descuillès was Pyrrhus; a tall blonde, with an insipid face +and good figure, Andromaque; Elizabeth P——, my admired and emulated +superior in all things, Oreste (not superior, however, in acting; she +had not the questionable advantage of dramatic blood in her veins); and +myself, Hermione (in the performance of which I very presently gave +token of mine). We had an imposing audience, and were all duly +terrified, became hoarse with nervousness, swallowed raw eggs to clear +our throats, and only made ourselves sick with them as well as with +fright. But at length it was all over; the tragedy was ended, and I had +electrified the audience, my companions, and, still more, myself; and +so, to avert any ill effects from this general electrification, Mrs. +Rowden thought it wise and well to say to me, as she bade me good-night, +"Ah, my dear, I don't think your parents need ever anticipate your going +on the stage; you would make but a poor actress." And she was right +enough. I did make but a poor actress, certainly, though <a name="Page_70" id="Page_70" ></a><span class="pagenum">[70]</span>that was not +for want of natural talent for the purpose, but for want of cultivating +it with due care and industry. At the time she made that comment upon my +acting I felt very well convinced, and have since had good reason to +know, that my school-mistress thought my performance a threat, or +promise (I know not which to call it) of decided dramatic power, as I +believe it was.</p> + +<p>With this performance of "Andromaque," however, all such taste, if it +ever existed, evaporated, and though a few years afterward the stage +became my profession, it was the very reverse of my inclination. I +adopted the career of an actress with as strong a dislike to it as was +compatible with my exercising it at all.</p> + +<p>I now became acquainted with all Racine's and Corneille's plays, from +which we were made to commit to memory the most remarkable passages; and +I have always congratulated myself upon having become familiar with all +these fine compositions before I had any knowledge whatever of +Shakespeare. Acquaintance with his works might, and I suppose certainly +would, have impaired my relish for the great French dramatists, whose +tragedies, noble and pathetic in spite of the stiff formality of their +construction, the bald rigidity of their adherence to the classic +unities, and the artificial monotony of the French heroic rhymed verse, +would have failed to receive their due appreciation from a taste and +imagination already familiar with the glorious freedom of Shakespeare's +genius. As it was, I learned to delight extremely in the dignified +pathos and stately tragic power of Racine and Corneille, in the +tenderness, refinement, and majestic vigorous simplicity of their fine +creations, and possessed a treasure of intellectual enjoyment in their +plays before opening the first page of that wonderful volume which +contains at once the history of human nature and human existence.</p> + +<p>After I had been about a year and a half at school, Mrs. Rowden left her +house in the Rue d'Angoulême, and moved to a much finer one, at the very +top of the Champs Élysées, a large, substantial stone mansion, within +lofty iron gates and high walls of inclosure. It was the last house on +the left-hand side within the Barrière de l'Étoile, and stood on a +slight eminence and back from the Avenue des Champs Élysées by some +hundred yards. For many years after I had left school, on my repeated +visits to Paris, the old stone house bore on its gray front the large +"Institution de jeunes Demoiselles," which betokened the unchanged tenor +of its existence. But the rising <a name="Page_71" id="Page_71" ></a><span class="pagenum">[71]</span>tide of improvement has at length swept +it away, and modern Paris has rolled over it, and its place remembers it +no more. It was a fine old house, roomy, airy, bright, sunny, cheerful, +with large apartments and a capital play-ground, formed by that +old-fashioned device, a quincunx of linden trees, under whose shade we +carried on very Amazonian exercises, fighting having become one of our +favorite recreations.</p> + +<p>This house was said to have belonged to Robespierre at one time, and a +very large and deep well in one corner of the play-ground was invested +with a horrid interest in our imaginations by tales of <i>noyades</i> on a +small scale supposed to have been perpetrated in its depths by his +orders. This charm of terror was, I think, rather a gratuitous addition +to the attractions of this uncommonly fine well; but undoubtedly it +added much to the fascination of one of our favorite amusements, which +was throwing into it the heaviest stones we could lift, and rushing to +the farthest end of the play-ground, which we sometimes reached before +the resounding <i>bumps</i> from side to side ended in a sullen splash into +the water at the bottom. With our removal to the Barrière de l'Étoile, +the direction of our walks altered, and our visits to the Luxembourg +Gardens and the Parc Monceaux were exchanged for expeditions to the Bois +de Boulogne, then how different from the charming pleasure-ground of +Paris which it became under the reforming taste and judgment of Louis +Napoleon!</p> + +<p>Between the back of our play-ground and the village suburb of Chaillot +scarcely a decent street or even house then existed; there was no +splendid Avenue de l'Impératrice, with bright villas standing on vivid +carpets of flowers and turf. Our way to the "wood" was along the +dreariest of dusty high-roads, bordered with mean houses and +disreputable-looking <i>estaminets</i>; and the Bois de Boulogne itself, then +undivided from Paris by the fortifications which subsequently encircled +the city, was a dismal network of sandy avenues and <i>carrefours</i>, +traversed in every direction by straight, narrow, gloomy paths, a dreary +wilderness of low thickets and tangled copsewood.</p> + +<p>I have said that I never returned home during my three years' school +life in Paris; but portions of my holidays were spent with a French +family, kind friends of my parents, who received me as an <i>enfant de la +maison</i> among them. They belonged to the <i>petite bourgeoisie</i> of Paris. +Mr. A—— had been in some business, I believe, but when I visited him +he was living as a small <i>rentier</i>, in a pretty little house on the main +road from Paris to Versailles.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72" ></a><span class="pagenum">[72]</span>It was just such a residence as Balzac describes with such minute finish +in his scenes of Parisian and provincial life: a sunny little +<i>maisonnette</i>, with green <i>jalousies</i>, a row of fine linden trees +clipped into arches in front of it, and behind, the trim garden with its +wonderfully productive dwarf <i>espaliers</i>, full of delicious pears and +Reine Claudes (that queen of amber-tinted, crimson-freckled greengages), +its apricots, as fragrant as flowers, and its glorious, spice-breathing +carnations.</p> + +<p>The mode of life and manners of these worthy people were not refined or +elegant, but essentially hospitable and kind; and I enjoyed the sunny +freedom of my holiday visits to them extremely. The marriage of their +daughter opened to me a second Parisian home of the same class, but with +greater pretensions to social advantages, derived from the great city in +the center of which it stood.</p> + +<p>I was present at the celebration of Caroline A——'s marriage to one of +the head-masters of a first-class boarding-school for boys, of which he +subsequently became the principal director. It was in the Rue de Clichy, +and thither the bride departed, after a jolly, rollicking, noisy +wedding, beginning with the religious solemnization at church and +procession to the <i>mairie</i> for due sanction of the civil authorities, +and ending with a bountiful, merry, early afternoon dinner, and the not +over-refined ancient custom of the distribution of the <i>jarretière de la +mariée</i>. The jarretière was a white satin ribbon, tied at a discreet +height above the bride's ankle, and removed thence by the best man and +cut into pieces, for which an animated scramble took place among the +male guests, each one who obtained a piece of the white favor +immediately fastening it in his button-hole. Doubtless, in earlier and +coarser times, it was the bride's real garter that was thus distributed, +and our elegant white and silver rosettes are the modern representatives +of this primitive wedding "favor," which is a relic of ages when both in +England and in France usages obtained at the noblest marriages which +would be tolerated by no class in either country now;</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"When bluff King Hal the stocking threw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Katharine's hand the curtain drew."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I have a distinct recollection of the merry uproar caused by this +ceremony, and of the sad silence that fell upon the little sunny +dwelling when the new-married pair and all the guests had returned to +Paris, and I helped poor Madame A—— and her old <i>cuisinière</i> and +<i>femme de charge</i>, both with tearful eyes, to replace the yellow +<i>velours d'Utrecht</i> furniture in its accustomed <a name="Page_73" id="Page_73" ></a><span class="pagenum">[73]</span>position on the shiny +<i>parquet</i> of the best <i>salon</i>, with the slippery little bits of +foot-rugs before the empty <i>bergères</i> and <i>canapés</i>.</p> + +<p>My holidays after this time were spent with M. and Madame R——, in +whose society I remember frequently seeing a literary man of the name of +Pélissier, a clever writer, a most amusing talker, and an admirable +singer of Béranger's songs.</p> + +<p>Another visitor of their house was M. Rio, the eminent member of the +French ultramontane party, the friend of Lammenais, Lacordaire, +Montalembert, the La Ferronays, the hero of the Jeune Vendée, the +learned and devout historian of Christian art. I think my friend M. +R—— was a Breton by birth, and that was probably the tie between +himself and his remarkable Vendéan friend, whose tall, commanding +figure, dark complexion, and powerful black eyes gave him more the +appearance of a Neapolitan or Spaniard than of a native of the coast of +ancient Armorica. M. Rio was then a young man, and probably in Paris for +the first time, at the beginning of the literary career of which he has +furnished so interesting a sketch in the autobiographical volumes which +form the conclusion of his "Histoire de l'Art Chrétien." Five and twenty +years later, while passing my second winter in Rome, I heard of M. Rio's +arrival there, and of the unbounded satisfaction he expressed at finding +himself in the one place where no restless wheels beat time to, and no +panting chimneys breathed forth the smoke of the vast, multiform +industry of the nineteenth century; where the sacred stillness of +unprogressive conservatism yet prevailed undisturbed. Gas had, indeed, +been introduced in the English quarter; but M. Rio could shut his eyes +when he drove through that, and there still remained darkness enough +elsewhere for those who loved it better than light.</p> + +<p>During one of my holiday visits to M. R——, a ball was given at his +young gentlemen's school, to which I was taken by him and his wife. It +was my very first ball, and I have a vivid recollection of my white +muslin frock and magnificent <i>ponceau</i> sash. At this festival I was +introduced to a lad, with whom I was destined to be much more intimately +acquainted in after years as one of the best amateur actors I ever saw, +and who married one of the most charming and distinguished women of +European society, Pauline de la Ferronays, whose married name has +obtained wide celebrity as that of the authoress of "Le Récit d'une +Sœur."</p> + +<p>I remained in Paris till I was between fifteen and sixteen years old, +and then it was determined that I should return home. The departure of +Elizabeth P—— had left me without <a name="Page_74" id="Page_74" ></a><span class="pagenum">[74]</span>competitor in my studies among my +companions, and I was at an age to be better at home than at any school.</p> + +<p>My father came to fetch me, and the only adventure I met with on the way +back was losing my bonnet, blown from my head into the sea, on board the +packet, which obliged me to purchase one as soon as I reached London; +and having no discreeter guide of my proceedings, I so far imposed upon +my father's masculine ignorance in such matters as to make him buy for +me a full-sized Leghorn flat, under the circumference of which enormous +<i>sombrero</i> I seated myself by him on the outside of the Weybridge coach, +and amazed the gaping population of each successive village we passed +through with the vast dimensions of the thatch I had put on my head.</p> + +<p>Weybridge was not then reached by train in half an hour from London; it +was two or three hours' coach distance: a rural, rather +deserted-looking, and most picturesque village, with the desolate domain +of Portmore Park, its mansion falling to ruin, on one side of it, and on +the other the empty house and fine park of Oatlands, the former +residence of the Duke of York.</p> + +<p>The straggling little village lay on the edge of a wild heath and common +country that stretches to Guildford and Godalming and all through that +part of Surrey to Tunbridge Wells, Brighton, and the Sussex coast—a +region of light, sandy soil, hiding its agricultural poverty under a +royal mantle of golden gorse and purple heather, and with large tracts +of blue aromatic pine wood and one or two points of really fine scenery, +where the wild moorland rolls itself up into ridges and rises to crests +of considerable height, which command extensive and beautiful views: +such as the one from the summit of Saint George's Hill, near Weybridge, +and the top of Blackdown, the noble site of Tennyson's fine house, +whence, over miles of wild wood and common, the eye sweeps to the downs +above the Sussex cliffs and the glint of the narrow seas.</p> + +<p>We had left London in the afternoon, and did not reach Weybridge until +after dark. I had been tormented the whole way down by a nervous fear +that I should not know my mother's face again; an absence of three +years, of course, could not justify such an apprehension, but it had +completely taken possession of my imagination and was causing me much +distress, when, as the coach stopped in the dark at the village inn, I +heard the words, "Is there any one here for Mrs. Kemble?" uttered in a +voice which I knew so well, that I sprang, hat and <a name="Page_75" id="Page_75" ></a><span class="pagenum">[75]</span>all, into my mother's +arms, and effectually got rid of my fear that I should not know her.</p> + +<p>Her rural yearnings had now carried her beyond her suburban refuge at +Craven Hill, and she was infinitely happy, in her small cottage +habitation, on the outskirts of Weybridge and the edge of its +picturesque common. Tiny, indeed, it was, and but for her admirable +power of contrivance could hardly have held us with any comfort; but she +delighted in it, and so did we all except my father, who, like most men, +had no real taste for the country; the men who appear to themselves and +others to like it confounding their love for hunting and shooting with +that of the necessary field of their sports. Anglers seem to me to be +the only sportsmen who really have a taste for and love of nature as +well as for fishy water. At any rate, the silent, solitary, and +comparatively still character of their pursuit enables them to study and +appreciate beauty of scenery more than the violent exercise and +excitement of fox-hunting, whatever may be said in favor of the +picturesque influences of beating preserves and wading through +turnip-fields with keepers and companions more or less congenial.</p> + +<p>Of deer-stalking and grouse-shooting I do not speak; a man who does not +become enthusiastic in his admiration of wild scenery while following +these sports must have but half the use of his eyes.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was hardly fair to expect my father to relish extremely a +residence where he was as nearly as possible too high and too wide, too +long and too large, for every room in the house. He used to come down on +Saturday and stay till Monday morning, but the rest of the week he spent +at what was then our home in London, No. 5 Soho Square; it was a +handsome, comfortable, roomy house, and has now, I think, been converted +into a hospital.</p> + +<p>The little cottage at Weybridge was covered at the back with a vine, +which bore with the utmost luxuriance a small, black, sweet-water grape, +from which, I remember, one year my mother determined to make wine; a +direful experiment, which absorbed our whole harvest of good little +fruit, filled every room in the house with unutterable messes, produced +much fermentation of temper as well as wine, and ended in a liquid +product of such superlative nastiness, that to drink it defied our +utmost efforts of obedience and my mother's own resolute courage; so it +was with acclamations of execration made libations of—to the infernal +gods, I should think—and no future vintage was ever tried, to our great +joy.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76" ></a><span class="pagenum">[76]</span>The little plot of lawn on which our cottage stood was backed by the +wild purple swell of the common, and that was crested by a fine fir +wood, a beautiful rambling and scrambling ground, full of picturesque +and romantic associations with all the wild and fanciful mental +existences which I was then beginning to enjoy. And even as I glide +through it now, on the railroad that has laid its still depths open to +the sun's glare and scared its silence with the eldritch snort and +shriek of the iron team, I have visions of Undine and Sintram, the +Elves, the little dog Stromian, the Wood-Witch, and all the world of +supernatural beauty and terror which then peopled its recesses for me, +under the influence of the German literature that I was becoming +acquainted with through the medium of French and English translations, +and that was carrying me on its tide of powerful enchantment far away +from the stately French classics of my school studies.</p> + +<p>Besides our unusual privilege of grape-growing in the open air, our +little estate boasted a magnificent beurré pear tree, a small arbor of +intertwined and peculiarly fine filbert and cobnut trees, and some +capital greengage and apple trees; among the latter, a remarkably large +and productive Ribstone pippin. So that in the spring the little plot of +land was flowerful, and in the autumn fruitful, and we cordially +indorsed my mother's preference for it to the London house in Soho +Square.</p> + +<p>The sort of orchard which contained all these objects of our regard was +at the back of the house; in front of it, however, the chief peculiarity +(which was by no means a beauty) of the place was displayed.</p> + +<p>This was an extraordinary mound or hillock of sand, about half an acre +in circumference, which stood at a distance of some hundred yards +immediately in front of the cottage, and in the middle of what ought to +have been a flower garden, if this uncouth protuberance had not +effectually prevented the formation of any such ornamental setting to +our house. My mother's repeated applications to our landlord (the +village baker) to remove or allow her to remove this unsightly +encumbrance were unavailing. He thought he might have future use for the +sand, and he knew he had no other present place of deposit for it; and +there it remained, defying all my mother's ingenuity and love of beauty +to convert it into any thing useful or ornamental, or other than a cruel +eye-sore and disfigurement to our small domain.</p> + +<p>At length she hit upon a device for abating her nuisance, and set about +executing it as follows. She had the sand dug out of the <a name="Page_77" id="Page_77" ></a><span class="pagenum">[77]</span>interior of the +mound and added to its exterior, which she had graded and smoothed and +leveled and turfed so as to resemble the glacis of a square bastion or +casemate, or other steep, smooth-sided earth-work in a fortification. It +was, I suppose, about twenty feet high, and sloped at too steep an angle +for us to scale or descend it; a good footpath ran round the top, +accessible from the entrance of the sand-heap, the interior walls of +which she turfed (to speak Irish) with heather, and the ground or floor +of this curious inclosure she planted with small clumps of evergreen +shrubs, leaving a broad walk through the middle of it to the house door. +A more curious piece of domestic fortification never adorned a cottage +garden. It looked like a bit of Robinson Crusoe's castle—perhaps even +more like a portion of some deserted fortress. It challenged the +astonishment of all our visitors, whose invariable demand was, "What is +that curious place in the garden?" "The mound," was the reply; and the +mound was a delightful play-ground for us, and did infinite credit to my +mother's powers of contrivance. Forty years and more elapsed between my +first acquaintance with Weybridge and my last visit there. The Duke of +York's house at Oatlands, afterwards inhabited by my friends Lord and +Lady Ellesmere, had become a country hotel, pleasant to all its visitors +but those who, like myself, saw ghosts in its rooms and on its gravel +walks; its lovely park, a nest of "villas," made into a suburb of London +by the railroads that intersect in all directions the wild moorland +twenty miles from the city, which looked, when I first knew it, as if it +might be a hundred.</p> + +<p>I read and spent a night at the Oatlands Hotel, and walked, before I did +so, to my mother's old cottage. The tiny house had had some small +additions, and looked new and neat and well cared for. The mound, +however, still stood its ground, and had relapsed into something of its +old savage condition; it would have warranted a theory of Mr. Oldbuck's +as to its possible former purposes and origin. I looked at its crumbled +and irregular wall, from which the turf had peeled or been washed away; +at the tangled growth of grasses and weeds round the top, crenellated +with many a breach and gap; and the hollow, now choked up with luxuriant +evergreens that overtopped the inclosure and forbade entrance to it, and +thought of my mother's work and my girlish play there, and was glad to +see her old sand-heap was still standing, though her planting had, with +the blessing of time, made it impenetrable to me.</p> + +<p>Our cottage was the last decent dwelling on that side of the <a name="Page_78" id="Page_78" ></a><span class="pagenum">[78]</span>village; +between ourselves and the heath and pine wood there was one miserable +shanty, worthy of the poorest potato patch in Ireland. It was inhabited +by a ragged ruffian of the name of E——, whose small domain we +sometimes saw undergoing arable processes by the joint labor of his son +and heir, a ragged ruffian some sizes smaller than himself, and of a +half-starved jackass, harnessed together to the plow he was holding; +occasionally the team was composed of the quadruped and a tattered and +fierce-looking female biped, a more terrible object than even the man +and boy and beast whose labors she shared.</p> + +<p>On the other side our nearest neighbors, separated from us by the common +and its boundary road, were a family of the name of ——, between whose +charming garden and pretty residence and our house a path was worn by a +constant interchange of friendly intercourse.</p> + +<p>I followed no regular studies whatever during our summer at Weybridge. +We lived chiefly in the open air, on the heath, in the beautiful wood +above the meadows of Brooklands, and in the neglected, picturesque +inclosure of Portmore Park, whose tenantless, half-ruined mansion, and +noble cedars, with the lovely windings of the river Wey in front, made +it a place an artist would have delighted to spend his hours in.</p> + +<p>We haunted it constantly for another purpose. My mother had a perfect +passion for fishing, and would spend whole days by the river, pursuing +her favorite sport. We generally all accompanied her, carrying baskets +and tackle and bait, kettles and camp stools, and looking very much like +a family of gypsies on the tramp. We were each of us armed with a rod, +and were more or less interested in the sport. We often started after an +early breakfast, and, taking our luncheon with us, remained the whole +day long absorbed in our quiet occupation.</p> + +<p>My mother was perfectly unobservant of all rules of angling, in her +indiscriminate enthusiasm, and "took to the water" whether the wind +blew, the sun shone, or the rain fell; fishing—under the most +propitious or unpropitious circumstances—was not, indeed, necessarily, +catching fish, but still, fishing; and she was almost equally happy +whether she did or did not catch any thing. I have known her remain all +day in patient expectation of the "glorious nibble," stand through +successive showers, with her clothes between whiles drying on her back, +and only reluctantly leave the water's edge when it was literally too +dark to see her float.</p> + +<p>Although we all fished, I was the only member of the family who +inherited my mother's passion for it, and it only developed <a name="Page_79" id="Page_79" ></a><span class="pagenum">[79]</span>much later +in me, for at this time I often preferred taking a book under the trees +by the river-side, to throwing a line; but towards the middle of my life +I became a fanatical fisherwoman, and was obliged to limit my waste of +time to one day in the week, spent on the Lenox lakes, or I should +infallibly have wandered thither and dreamed away my hours on their +charming shores or smooth expanse daily.</p> + +<p>I have often wondered that both my mother and myself (persons of +exceptional impatience of disposition and irritable excitability of +temperament) should have taken such delight in so still and monotonous +an occupation, especially to the point of spending whole days in an +unsuccessful pursuit of it. The fact is that the excitement of hope, +keeping the attention constantly alive, is the secret of the charm of +this strong fascination, infinitely more than even the exercise of +successful skill. And this element of prolonged and at the same time +intense expectation, combined with the peculiarly soothing nature of the +external objects which surround the angler, forms at once a powerful +stimulus and a sedative especially grateful in their double action upon +excitable organizations.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + + +<p>I have said that we all more or less joined in my mother's fishing mania +at Weybridge; but my sister, then a girl of about eleven years, never +had any liking for it, which she attributed to the fact that my mother +often employed her to bait the hook for her. My sister's "tender-hefted" +nature was horribly disgusted and pained by this process, but my own +belief is that had she inherited the propensity to catch fish, even that +would not have destroyed it in her. I am not myself a cruel or +hardhearted woman (though I have the hunter's passion very strongly), +and invariably baited my own hook, in spite of the disgust and horror I +experienced at the wretched twining of the miserable worms round my +fingers, and springing of the poor little live bait with its back +pierced with a hook. But I have never allowed any one to do this office +for me, because it seemed to me that to inflict such a task on any one, +because it was revolting to me, was not fair or sportsmanlike; and so I +went on torturing my own bait and myself, too eagerly devoted to the +sport to refrain from it, in spite of the price I condemned myself to +pay for it. Moreover, if I have ever had female <a name="Page_80" id="Page_80" ></a><span class="pagenum">[80]</span>companions on my fishing +excursions, I have invariably done this service for them, thinking the +process too horrid for them to endure; and have often thought that if I +were a man, nothing could induce me to marry a woman whom I had seen +bait her own hook with any thing more sensitive than paste.</p> + +<p>I have said that I followed no systematic studies after I left school; +but from that time began for me an epoch of indiscriminate, omnivorous +reading, which lasted until I went upon the stage, when all my own +occupations were necessarily given up for the exercise of my profession.</p> + +<p>At this time my chief delight was in such German literature as +translations enabled me to become acquainted with. La Motte Fouqué, +Tieck, Wieland's "Oberon," Goethe's "Wilhelm Meister," were my principal +studies; soon to be followed by the sort of foretaste of Jean Paul +Richter that Mr. Carlyle's "Sartor Resartus" gave his readers; both +matter and manner in that remarkable work bearing far more resemblance +to the great German Incomprehensible than to any thing in the English +language, certainly not excepting Mr. Carlyle's own masterly articles in +the <i>Edinburgh Review</i> on Burns, Elliot the Corn-Law Rhymer, etc. +Besides reading every book that came within my reach, I now commenced +the still more objectionable practice of scribbling verses without stint +or stay; some, I suppose, in very bad Italian, and some, I am sure, in +most indifferent English; but the necessity was on me, and perhaps an +eruption of such rubbish was a safer process than keeping it in the +mental system might have proved; and in the meantime this intellectual +effervescence added immensely to the pleasure of my country life, and my +long, rambling walks in that wild, beautiful neighborhood.</p> + +<p>I remember at this moment, by the by, a curious companionship we had in +those walks. A fine, big Newfoundland dog and small terrier were +generally of the party; and, nothing daunted by their presence, an +extremely tame and affectionate cat, who was a member of the family, +invariably joined the procession, and would accompany us in our longest +walks, trotting demurely along by herself, a little apart from the rest, +though evidently considering herself a member of the party.</p> + +<p>The dogs, fully occupied with each other, and with discursive raids +right and left of the road, and parenthetical rushes in various +directions for their own special delectation, would sometimes, returning +to us at full gallop, tumble over poor puss and roll her unceremoniously +down in their headlong career. She never, however, turned back for this, +but, recovering her feet, <a name="Page_81" id="Page_81" ></a><span class="pagenum">[81]</span>with her back arched all but in two, and every +hair of her tail standing on end with insulted dignity, vented in a +series of spittings and swearings her opinion of dogs in general and +those dogs in particular, and then resumed her own decently demure gait +and deportment; thanking Heaven, I have no doubt, in her cat's soul, +that she was not that disgustingly violent and ill-mannered beast—a +dog.</p> + +<p>My brothers shared with us our fishing excursions and these walks, when +at home from school; besides, I was promoted to their nobler +companionship by occasionally acting as long-stop or short-stop (stop of +some sort was undoubtedly my title) in insufficiently manned or boyed +games of cricket: once, while nervously discharging this onerous duty, I +received a blow on my instep from a cricket ball which I did not stop, +that seemed to me a severe price for the honor of sharing my brothers' +manly pastimes. A sport of theirs in which I joined with more +satisfaction was pistol-shooting at a mark: I had not a quick eye, but a +very steady hand, so that with a deliberate aim I contrived to hit the +mark pretty frequently. I liked this quiet exercise of skill better than +that dreadful watching and catching of cannon-balls at cricket; though +the noise of the discharge of fire-arms was always rather trying to me, +and I especially resented my pistol missing fire when I had braced my +courage for the report. My brother John at this time possessed a rifle +and a fowling-piece, with the use of both of which he endeavored to +familiarize me; but the rifle I found insupportably heavy, and as for +the other gun, it kicked so unmercifully, in consequence, I suppose, of +my not holding it hard enough against my shoulder the first time I fired +it, that I declined all further experiments with it, and reverted to the +pretty little lady-like pocket pistols, which were the only fire-arms I +ever used until one fine day, some years later, when I was promoted to +the honor of firing an American cannon on the practicing ground of the +young gentlemen cadets of West Point.</p> + +<p>While we retained our little cottage at Weybridge, the house of +Oatlands, the former residence of the Duke of York, and burial-place of +the duchess's favorite dogs, whose cemetery was one of the "lions" of +the garden, was purchased by a Mr. ——, a young gentleman of very large +fortune, who came down there and enlivened the neighborhood occasionally +with his sporting prowesses, which consisted in walking out, attired in +the very height of Bond Street dandyism, with two attendant gamekeepers, +one of whom carried and handed him his gun when he wished to fire it, +the other receiving it from him after <a name="Page_82" id="Page_82" ></a><span class="pagenum">[82]</span>it had been discharged. This very +luxurious mode of following his sport caused some sarcastic comment in +the village.</p> + +<p>This gentleman did not long retain possession of Oatlands, and it was +let to the Earl of Ellesmere, then Lord Francis Egerton, with whom and +Lady Francis we became acquainted soon after their taking it; an +acquaintance which on my part grew into a strong and affectionate regard +for both of them. They were excellent and highly accomplished, and, when +first I knew them, two of the handsomest and most distinguished-looking +persons I have ever seen.</p> + +<p>Our happy Weybridge summers, which succeeded each other for three years, +had but one incident of any importance for me—my catching the +small-pox, which I had very severely. A slight eruption from which my +sister suffered was at first pronounced by our village Æsculapius to be +chicken-pox, but presently assumed the more serious aspect of varioloid. +My sister, like the rest of us, had been carefully vaccinated; but the +fact was then by no means so generally understood as it now is, that the +power of the vaccine dies out of the system by degrees, and requires +renewing to insure safety. My mother, having lost her faith in +vaccination, thought that a natural attack of varioloid was the best +preservative from small-pox, and my sister having had her seasoning so +mildly and without any bad result but a small scar on her long nose, I +was sent for from London, where I was, with the hope that I should take +the same light form of the malady from her; but the difference of our +age and constitution was not taken into consideration, and I caught the +disease, indeed, but as nearly as possible died of it, and have remained +disfigured by it all my life.</p> + +<p>I was but little over sixteen, and had returned from school a very +pretty-looking girl, with fine eyes, teeth, and hair, a clear, vivid +complexion, and rather good features. The small-pox did not affect my +three advantages first named, but, besides marking my face very +perceptibly, it rendered my complexion thick and muddy and my features +heavy and coarse, leaving me so moderate a share of good looks as quite +to warrant my mother's satisfaction in saying, when I went on the stage, +"Well, my dear, they can't say we have brought you out to exhibit your +beauty." Plain I certainly was, but I by no means always looked so; and +so great was the variation in my appearance at different times, that my +comical old friend, Mrs. Fitzhugh, once exclaimed, "Fanny Kemble, you +are the ugliest and the handsomest woman in London!" And I am sure, if a +collection were made of the numerous portraits that have been taken <a name="Page_83" id="Page_83" ></a><span class="pagenum">[83]</span>of +me, nobody would ever guess any two of them to be likenesses of the same +person.</p> + +<p>The effect of natural small-pox on the skin and features varies +extremely in different individuals, I suppose according to their +constitution. My mother and her brother had the disease at the same +time, and with extreme violence; he retained his beautiful bright +complexion and smooth skin and handsome features; my mother was deeply +pitted all over her face, though the fine outline of her nose and mouth +was not injured in the slightest degree; while with me, the process +appeared to be one of general thickening or blurring, both of form and +color. Terrified by this result of her unfortunate experiment, my poor +mother had my brothers immediately vaccinated, and thus saved them from +the infection which they could hardly have escaped, and preserved the +beauty of my youngest brother, which then and for several years after +was very remarkable.</p> + +<p>Mrs. F—— is among the most vivid memories of my girlish days. She and +her husband were kind and intimate friends of my father and mother. He +was a most amiable and genial Irish gentleman, with considerable +property in Ireland and Suffolk, and a fine house in Portland Place, and +had married his cousin, a very handsome, clever, and eccentric woman. I +remember she always wore a bracelet of his hair, on the massive clasp of +which were engraved the words, "Stesso sangue, stessa sorte." I also +remember, as a feature of sundry dinners at their house, the first gold +dessert service and table ornaments that I ever saw, the magnificence of +which made a great impression upon me; though I also remember their +being replaced, upon Mrs. F—— wearying of them, by a set of ground +glass and dead and burnished silver, so exquisite, that the splendid +gold service was pronounced infinitely less tasteful and beautiful.</p> + +<p>Mrs. F——'s sons were school-fellows of my eldest brother, under Dr. +Malkin, the master of the grammar school of Bury St. Edmunds; and at +this time we always saw Dr. and Mrs. Malkin when they visited London, +and I was indebted to the doctor for a great deal of extremely kind +interest which he took in my mental development and cultivation.</p> + +<p>He suggested books for my reading, and set me, as a useful exercise, to +translate Sismondi's fine historical work, "Les Républiques Italiennes," +which he wished me to abridge for publication. I was not a little proud +of Dr. Malkin's notice and advice; he was my brother's school-master, an +object of respectful admiration, and a kind and condescending friend to +me.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84" ></a><span class="pagenum">[84]</span>He was a hearty, genial man, of portly person, and fine, intelligent, +handsome face; active and energetic in his habits and movements, in +spite of a slight lameness, which I remember he accounted for to me in +the following manner. He was very intimate with Miss O'Neil before she +left the stage and became Lady Becher. While dancing with her in a +country-dance one evening at her house, she exclaimed, on hearing a +sudden sonorous twang, "Dear me! there is one of the chords of my harp +snapped." "Indeed it is not," replied Dr. Malkin; "it is my +tendo-Achillis which has snapped." And so it was; and from that time he +always remained lame.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Malkin was a more uncommon person than her husband; the strength of +her character and sweetness of her disposition were alike admirable, and +the bright vivacity of her countenance and singular grace and dignity of +her person must be a pleasant memory in the minds of all who, like +myself, knew her while she was yet in the middle bloom of life.</p> + +<p>Dr. and Mrs. Malkin's sons were my brother's school and college mates. +They were all men of ability, and good scholars, as became their +father's sons. Sir Benjamin, the eldest, achieved eminence as a lawyer, +and became an Indian judge; and the others would undoubtedly have risen +to distinction but for the early death that carried off Frederick and +Charles, and the hesitation of speech which closed almost all public +careers to their brother Arthur.</p> + +<p>He was a prominent and able contributor to the "Library of Useful +Knowledge," and furnished a great part of the first of a whole +generation of delightful publications, Murray's "Hand-Book" for +Switzerland.</p> + +<p>One of the earliest of Alpine explorers, Arthur Malkin mounted to those +icy battlements which have since been scaled by a whole army of +besiegers, and planted the banner of English courage and enterprise on +"peaks, passes, and glaciers" which, when he first climbed the shining +summits of the Alps, were all but <i>terra incognita</i> to his countrymen.</p> + +<p>There is nothing more familiar to the traveling and reading British +public nowadays than Alpine adventures and their records; but when my +friend first conquered the passes between Evolena and Zermatt (still one +of the least overrun mountain regions of Switzerland), their sublime +solitudes were awful with the mystery of unexplored loneliness. Now +professors climb up them, and artists slide down them, and they are +photographed with "members" straddling over their dire crevasses, or +cutting capers on their scornful summits, or turning somer<a name="Page_85" id="Page_85" ></a><span class="pagenum">[85]</span>saults down +their infinite precipices. The air of the high Alps was inhaled by few +Englishmen before Arthur Malkin; one can not help thinking that now, +even on the top of the Matterhorn and Monte Rosa, it must have lost some +of its freshness.</p> + +<p>I have said that all Dr. Malkin's sons were men of more than average +ability; but one, who never lived to be a man, "died a most rare boy" of +about six years, fully justifying by his extraordinary precocity and +singular endowments the tribute which his bereaved father paid his +memory in a modest and touching record of his brief and remarkable +existence.</p> + +<p>My Parisian education appeared, at this time, to have failed signally in +the one especial result that might have been expected from it: all my +French dancing lessons had not given me a good deportment, nor taught me +to hold myself upright. I stooped, slouched, and poked, stood with one +hip up and one shoulder down, and exhibited an altogether disgracefully +ungraceful carriage, which greatly afflicted my parents. In order that I +might "bear my body more seemly," various were the methods resorted to; +among others, a hideous engine of torture of the backboard species, made +of steel covered with red morocco, which consisted of a flat piece +placed on my back, and strapped down to my waist with a belt and secured +at the top by two epaulets strapped over my shoulders. From the middle +of this there rose a steel rod or spine, with a steel collar which +encircled my throat and fastened behind. This, it was hoped, would +eventually put my shoulders down and my head up, and in the meantime I +had the appearance of a young woman walking about in a portable pillory. +The ease and grace which this horrible machine was expected to impart to +my figure and movements were, however, hardly perceptible after +considerable endurance of torture on my part, and to my ineffable joy it +was taken off (my harness, as I used to call it; and no knight of old +ever threw off his iron shell with greater satisfaction), and I was +placed under the tuition of a sergeant of the Royal Foot Guards, who +undertook to make young ladies carry themselves and walk well, and not +exactly like grenadiers either. This warrior having duly put me through +a number of elementary exercises, such as we see the awkward squads on +parade grounds daily drilled in, took leave of me with the verdict, that +I "was fit to march before the Duke of York," then commander of the +forces; and, thanks to his instructions, I remained endowed with a flat +back, well-placed shoulders, an erect head, upright carriage, and +resolute step.</p> + +<p>I think my education had come nearly to a standstill at this <a name="Page_86" id="Page_86" ></a><span class="pagenum">[86]</span>period, +for, with the exception of these physical exercises, and certain hours +of piano-forte practicing and singing lessons, I was left very much to +the irregular and unsystematic reading which I selected for myself. I +had a good contralto voice, which my mother was very desirous of +cultivating, but I think my progress was really retarded by the +excessive impatience with which her excellent ear endured my +unsuccessful musical attempts. I used to practice in her sitting-room, +and I think I sang out of tune and played false chords oftener, from +sheer apprehension of her agonized exclamations, than I should have done +under the supervision of a less sensitively organized person. I remember +my sister's voice and musical acquirements first becoming remarkable at +this time, and giving promise of her future artistic excellence. I +recollect a ballad from the Mexican opera by Bishop, called Cortex, "Oh, +there's a Mountain Palm," which she sang with a clear, high, sweet, true +little voice and touching expression, full of pathos, in which I used to +take great delight.</p> + +<p>The nervous terror which I experienced when singing or playing before my +mother was carried to a climax when I was occasionally called upon to +accompany the vocal performances of our friendly acquaintance, James +Smith (one of the authors of the "Rejected Addresses"). He was famous +for his humorous songs and his own capital rendering of them, but the +anguish I endured in accompanying him made those comical performances of +his absolutely tragical to me; the more so that he had a lion-like cast +of countenance, with square jaws and rather staring eyes. But perhaps he +appeared so stern-visaged only to me; while he sang everybody laughed, +but I perspired coldly and felt ready to cry, and so have but a +lugubrious impression of some of the most amusing productions of that +description, heard to the very best advantage (if I could have listened +to them at all) as executed by their author.</p> + +<p>Among our most intimate friends at this time were my cousin Horace Twiss +and his wife. I have been reminded of him in speaking of James Smith, +because he had a good deal of the same kind of humor, not unmixed with a +vein of sentiment, and I remember his songs, which he sang with great +spirit and expression, with the more pleasure that he never required me +to accompany them. One New-Year's Eve that he spent with us, just before +going away he sang charmingly some lines he had composed in the course +of the evening, the graceful turn of which, as well as the feeling with +which he sang them, were worthy of Moore. I remember only the burden:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<a name="Page_87" id="Page_87" ></a><span class="pagenum">[87]</span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, come! one genial hour improve,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And fill one measure duly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A health to those we truly love,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And those who love us truly!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And this stanza:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"To-day has waved its parting wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To join the days before it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as for what the morning brings,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The morning's mist hangs o'er it."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It was delightful to hear him and my mother talk together, and their +disputes, though frequent, seemed generally extremely amicable, and as +diverting to themselves as to us. On one occasion he ended their +discussion (as to whether some lady of their acquaintance had or had not +gone somewhere) by a vehement declaration which passed into a proverb in +our house: "Yes, yes, she did; for a woman will go anywhere, at any +time, with anybody, to see any thing—especially in a gig." Those were +days in which a gig was a vehicle the existence of which was not only +recognized in civilized society, but supposed to confer a diploma of +"gentility" upon its possessor.</p> + +<p>Horace Twiss was one of the readiest and most amusing talkers in the +world, and when he began to make his way in London society, which he +eventually did very successfully, ill-natured persons considered his +first step in the right direction to have been a repartee made in the +crush-room of the opera, while standing close to Lady L——, who was +waiting for her carriage. A man he was with saying, "Look at that fat +Lady L——; isn't she like a great white cabbage?" "Yes," answered +Horace, in a discreetly loud tone, "she <i>is</i> like one—all heart, I +believe." The white-heart cabbage turned affably to the rising +barrister, begged him to see her to her carriage, and gave him the +<i>entrée</i> of H—— House. Lord Clarendon subsequently put him in +Parliament for his borough of Wootton-Basset, and for a short time he +formed part of the ministry, holding one of the under-secretaryships. He +was clever, amiable, and good-tempered, and had every qualification for +success in society.</p> + +<p>He had married a Miss Searle, one of his mother's pupils at the +fashionable Bath boarding-school, the living image of Scott's Fenella, +the smallest woman that I have ever seen, with fairy feet and tiny +hands, the extraordinary power of which was like that of a steel talon. +On one occasion, when Horace Twiss happened to mention that his bright +little spark of a wife sat working in his library by him, while he was +engaged with his <a name="Page_88" id="Page_88" ></a><span class="pagenum">[88]</span>law or business papers, my mother suggested that her +conversation must disturb him. "Oh, she doesn't talk," said he, "but I +like to hear the scissors fall," a pretty conjugal reply, that left a +pleasant image in my mind. His only child by her, a daughter, married +first Mr. Bacon, then editor of the <i>Times</i>, and, after his death, John +Delane, who succeeded him in that office and still holds it; so that her +father said "she took the <i>Times</i> and Supplement."</p> + +<p>About this time I began to be aware of the ominous distresses and +disturbances connected with the affairs of the theater, that were to +continue and increase until the miserable subject became literally the +sauce to our daily bread; embittering my father's life with incessant +care and harassing vexation; and of the haunting apprehension of that +ruin which threatened us for years, and which his most strenuous efforts +only delayed, without averting it.</p> + +<p>The proprietors were engaged in a lawsuit with each other, and finally +one of them threw the whole concern into chancery; and for years that +dreary chancery suit seemed to envelop us in an atmosphere of +palpitating suspense or stagnant uncertainty, and to enter as an +inevitable element into every hope, fear, expectation, resolution, +event, or action of our lives.</p> + +<p>How unutterably heart-sick I became of the very sound of its name, and +how well I remember the expression on my father's careworn face one day, +as he turned back from the door, out of which he was going to his daily +drudgery at the theater, to say to my aunt, who had reproached him with +the loss of a button from his rather shabby coat, "Ah, Dall, my dear, +you see it is my chancery suit!"</p> + +<p>Lord Eldon, Sir John Leach, Lord Lyndhurst, and Lord Brougham were the +successive chancellors before whom the case was heard; the latter was a +friend of my family, and on one occasion my father took me to the House +of Lords to hear the proceedings. We were shown into the chancellor's +room, where he indeed was not, but where his huge official wig was +perched upon a block; the temptation was irresistible, and for half a +minute I had the awful and ponderous periwig on my pate.</p> + +<p>While we were still living in Soho Square our house was robbed; or +rather, my father's writing-desk was broken open, and sixty sovereigns +taken from it—a sum that he could very hardly spare. He had been at the +theater, acting, and my mother had spent the evening at some friend's +house, and the next morning great was the consternation of the family on +find<a name="Page_89" id="Page_89" ></a><span class="pagenum">[89]</span>ing what had happened. The dining-room sideboard and <i>cellarette</i> +had been opened, and wine and glasses put on the table, as if our +robbers had drank our good health for the success of their attempt.</p> + +<p>A Bow Street officer was sent for; I remember his portly and imposing +aspect very well; his name was Salmon, and he was a famous member of his +fraternity. He questioned my mother as to the honesty of our servants; +we had but three, a cook, housemaid, and footman, and for all of these +my mother answered unhesitatingly; and yet the expert assured her that +very few houses were robbed without connivance from within.</p> + +<p>The servants were had up and questioned, and the cook related how, +coming down first thing in the morning, she had found a certain back +scullery window open, and, alarmed by that, had examined the lower +rooms, and found the dining-room table set out with the decanters and +glasses. Having heard her story, the officer, as soon as she left the +room, asked my mother if any thing else besides the money had been +taken, and if any quantity of the wine had been drank. She said, "No," +and with regard to the last inquiry, she supposed, as the cook had +suggested when the decanters were examined, that the thieves had +probably been disturbed by some alarm, and had not had time to drink +much.</p> + +<p>Mr. Salmon then requested to look at the kitchen premises; the cook +officiously led the way to the scullery window, which was still open, +"just as she found it," she said, and proceeded to explain how the +robbers must have got over the wall of a court which ran at the back of +the house. When she had ended her demonstrations and returned to the +kitchen, Salmon, who had listened silently to her story of the case, +detained my mother for an instant, and rapidly passed his hand over the +outside window-sill, bringing away a thick layer of undisturbed dust, +which the passage of anybody through the window must infallibly have +swept off. Satisfied at once of the total falsity of the cook's +hypothesis, he told my mother that he had no doubt at all that she was a +party to the robbery, that the scullery window and dining-room drinking +scene were alike mere blinds, and that in all probability she had let +into the house whoever had broken open the desk, or else forced it +herself, having acquired by some means a knowledge of the money it +contained; adding, that in the very few words of interrogatory which had +passed between him and the servants, in my mother's presence, he had +felt quite sure that the housemaid and man were innocent; but had +immediately detected something in the cook's manner that <a name="Page_90" id="Page_90" ></a><span class="pagenum">[90]</span>seemed to him +suspicious. What a fine tact of guilt these detectives acquire in their +immense experience of it! The cook was not prosecuted, but dismissed, +the money, of course, not being recoverable; it was fortunate that +neither she nor her honest friends had any suspicion of the contents of +three boxes lying in the drawing-room at this very time. They were +large, black leather cases, containing a silver helmet, shield, and +sword, of antique Roman pattern and beautiful workmanship—a public +tribute bestowed upon my uncle, and left by him to my father; they have +since become an ornamental trophy in my sister's house. They were then +about to be sent for safe keeping to Coutts's bank, and in the meantime +lay close to the desk that had been rifled of a more portable but far +less valuable booty.</p> + +<p>Upon my uncle John's death his widow had returned to England, and fixed +her residence at a charming place called Heath Farm, in Hertfordshire. +Lord Essex had been an attached friend of my uncle's, and offered this +home on his property to Mrs. Kemble when she came to England, after her +long sojourn abroad with my uncle, who, as I have mentioned, spent the +last years of his life, and died, at Lausanne. Mrs. Kemble invited my +mother to come and see her soon after she settled in Hertfordshire, and +I accompanied her thither. Cashiobury Park thus became familiar ground +to me, and remains endeared to my recollection for its own beauty, for +the delightful days I passed rambling about it, and for the beginning of +that love bestowed upon my whole life by H—— S——. Heath Farm was a +pretty house, at once rural, comfortable, and elegant, with a fine +farm-yard adjoining it, a sort of cross between a farm and a manor +house; it was on the edge of the Cashiobury estate, within which it +stood, looking on one side over its lawn and flower-garden to the grassy +slopes and fine trees of the park, and on the other, across a road which +divided the two properties, to Lord Clarendon's place, the Grove. It had +been the residence of Lady Monson before her (second) marriage to Lord +Warwick. Close to it was a pretty cottage, also in the park, where lived +an old Miss M——, often visited by a young kinswoman of hers, who +became another of my life-long friends. T—— B——, Miss M——'s niece, +was then a beautiful young woman, whose singularly fine face and sweet +and spirited expression bore a strong resemblance to two eminently +handsome people, my father and Mademoiselle Mars. She and I soon became +intimate companions, though she was several years my senior. We used to +take long rambles to<a name="Page_91" id="Page_91" ></a><span class="pagenum">[91]</span>gether, and vaguely among my indistinct +recollections of her aunt's cottage and the pretty woodland round it, +mix sundry flying visions of a light, youthful figure, that of Lord +M——, then hardly more than a lad, who seemed to haunt the path of his +cousin, my handsome friend, and one evening caused us both a sudden +panic by springing out of a thicket on us, in the costume of a +Harlequin. Some years after this, when I was about to leave England for +America, I went to take leave of T—— B——. She was to be married the +next day to Lord M——, and was sitting with his mother, Lady W——, and +on a table near her lay a set of jewels, as peculiar as they were +magnificent, consisting of splendid large opals set in diamonds, black +enamel, and gold....</p> + +<p>To return to our Cashiobury walks: T—— B—— and I used often to go +together to visit ladies, the garden round whose cottage overflowed in +every direction with a particular kind of white and maroon pink, the +powerful, spicy odor of which comes to me, like a warm whiff of summer +sweetness, across all these intervening fifty years. Another favorite +haunt of ours was a cottage (not of gentility) inhabited by an old man +of the name of Foster, who, hale and hearty and cheerful in extreme old +age, was always delighted to see us, used to give us choice flowers and +fruit out of his tiny garden, and make me sit and sing to him by the +half-hour together in his honeysuckle-covered porch. After my first +visit to Heath Farm some time elapsed before we went thither again. On +the occasion of our second visit Mrs. Siddons and my cousin Cecilia were +also Mrs. Kemble's guests, and a lady of the name of H—— S——. She +had been intimate from her childhood in my uncle Kemble's house, and +retained an enthusiastic love for his memory and an affectionate +kindness for his widow, whom she was now visiting on her return to +England. And so I here first knew the dearest friend I have ever known. +The device of her family is "Haut et Bon:" it was her description. She +was about thirty years old when I first met her at Heath Farm; tall and +thin, her figure wanted roundness and grace, but it was straight as a +dart, and the vigorous, elastic, active movements of her limbs, and +firm, fleet, springing step of her beautifully made feet and ankles, +gave to her whole person and deportment a character like that of the +fabled Atalanta, or the huntress Diana herself. Her forehead and eyes +were beautiful. The broad, white, pure expanse surrounded with thick, +short, clustering curls of chestnut hair, and the clear, limpid, bright, +tender gray eyes that always looked radiant with light, and seemed to +reflect <a name="Page_92" id="Page_92" ></a><span class="pagenum">[92]</span>radiance wherever they turned, were the eyes and forehead of +Aurora. The rest of her features were not handsome, though her mouth was +full of sensibility and sweetness, and her teeth were the most perfect I +ever saw. She was eccentric in many things, but in nothing more so than +the fashion of her dress, especially the coverings she provided for her +extremities, her hat and boots. The latter were not positively masculine +articles, but were nevertheless made by a man's boot-maker, and there +was only one place in London where they could be made sufficiently ugly +to suit her; and infinite were the pains she took to procure the heavy, +thick, cumbrous, misshapen things that as much as possible concealed and +disfigured her finely turned ankles and high, arched, Norman instep. +Indeed, her whole attire, peculiar (and very ugly, I thought it) as it +was, was so by malice prepense on her part. And whereas the general +result would have suggested a total disregard of the vanities of dress, +no Quaker coquette was ever more jealous of the peculiar texture of the +fabrics she wore, or of the fashion in which they were made. She wore no +colors, black and gray being the only shades I ever saw her in; and her +dress, bare and bald of every ornament, was literally only a covering +for her body; but it was difficult to find cashmere fine enough for her +scanty skirts, or cloth perfect enough for her short spencers, or lawn +clear and exquisite enough for her curious collars and cuffs of +immaculate freshness.</p> + +<p>I remember a similar peculiarity of dress in a person in all other +respects the very antipodes of my friend H——. My mother took me once +to visit a certain Miss W——, daughter of a Stafford banker, her very +dear friend, and the godmother from whom I took my second name of Anne.</p> + +<p>This lady inhabited a quaint, picturesque house in the oldest part of +the town of Stafford. Well do I remember its oak-wainscoted and +oak-paneled chambers, and the fine old oak staircase that led from the +hall to the upper rooms; also the extraordinary abundance and delicacy +of our meals, particularly the old-fashioned nine o'clock supper, about +every item of which, it seemed to me, more was said and thought than +about any food of which I ever before or since partook. It was in this +homely palace of good cheer that a saying originated, which passed into +a proverb with us, expressive of a rather <i>un</i>nice indulgence of +appetite.</p> + +<p>One of the ladies, going out one day, called back to the servant who was +closing the door behind her: "Tell the cook not to forget the +sally-lunns" (a species of muffin) "for tea, well <a name="Page_93" id="Page_93" ></a><span class="pagenum">[93]</span>greased on both sides, +and we'll put on our cotton gowns to eat them."</p> + +<p>The appearance of the mistress of this mansion of rather obsolete +luxurious comfort was strikingly singular. She was a woman about sixty +years old, tall and large and fat, of what Balzac describes as "un +embonpoint flottant," and was habitually dressed in a white linen +cambric gown, long and tending to train, but as plain and tight as a bag +over her portly middle person and prominent bust; it was finished at the +throat with a school-boy's plaited frill, which stood up round her heavy +falling cheeks by the help of a white muslin or black silk cravat. Her +head was very nearly bald, and the thin, short gray hair lay in distant +streaks upon her skull, white and shiny as an ostrich egg, which on the +rare occasions of her going out, or into her garden, she covered with a +man's straw or beaver hat.</p> + +<p>It is curious how much minor eccentricity the stringent general spirit +of formal conformity allows individuals in England: nowhere else, +scarcely, in civilized Europe, could such a costume be worn in profound, +peaceful defiance of public usage and opinion, with perfect security +from insult or even offensive comment, as that of my mother's old +friend, Miss W——, or my dear H—— S——. In this same Staffordshire +family and its allies eccentricity seemed to prevail alike in life and +death; for I remember hearing frequent mention, while among them, of +connections of theirs who, when they died, one and all desired to be +buried in full dress and with their coffins <i>standing upright</i>.</p> + +<p>To return to Heath Farm and my dear H——. Nobility, intelligence, and +tenderness were her predominating qualities, and her person, manner, and +countenance habitually expressed them.</p> + +<p>This lady's intellect was of a very uncommon order; her habits of +thought and reading were profoundly speculative; she delighted in +metaphysical subjects of the greatest difficulty, and abstract questions +of the most laborious solution. On such subjects she incessantly +exercised her remarkably keen powers of analysis and investigation, and +no doubt cultivated and strengthened her peculiar mental faculties and +tendencies by the perpetual processes of metaphysical reasoning which +she pursued.</p> + +<p>Between H—— S—— and myself, in spite of nearly twelve years' +difference in our age, there sprang up a lively friendship, and our time +at Heath Farm was spent in almost constant companionship. We walked and +talked together the livelong day and a good part of the night, in spite +of Mrs. Kemble's judi<a name="Page_94" id="Page_94" ></a><span class="pagenum">[94]</span>cious precaution of sending us to bed with very +moderate wax candle ends; a prudent provision which we contrived to +defeat by getting from my cousin, Cecilia Siddons, clandestine alms of +fine, long, <i>life-sized</i> candles, placed as mere supernumeraries on the +toilet table of a dressing-room adjoining her mother's bedroom, which +she never used. At this time I also made the acquaintance of my friend's +brother, who came down to Heath Farm to visit Mrs. Kemble and his +sister. He possessed a brilliant intellect, had studied for the bar, and +at the same time made himself favorably known by a good deal of clever +periodical writing; but he died too early to have fully developed his +genius, and left as proofs of his undoubtedly superior talents only a +few powerfully written works of fiction, indicating considerable +abilities, to which time would have given maturity, and more experience +a higher direction.</p> + +<p>Among the principal interests of my London life at this time was the +production at our theater of Weber's opera, "Der Freyschütz." Few +operas, I believe, have had a wider or more prolonged popularity; none +certainly within my recollection ever had any thing approaching it. +Several causes conduced to this effect. The simple pathos of the love +story, and the supernatural element so well blended with it, which gave +such unusual scope to the stage effects of scenery, etc., were two +obvious reasons for its success.</p> + +<p>From the inimitably gay and dramatic laughing chorus and waltz of the +first scene to the divine melody in which the heroine expresses her +unshaken faith in Heaven, immediately before her lover's triumph closes +the piece, the whole opera is a series of exquisite conceptions, hardly +one of which does not contain some theme or passage calculated to catch +the dullest and slowest ear and fix itself on the least retentive +memory; and though the huntsman's and bridesmaid's choruses, of course, +first attained and longest retained a street-organ popularity, there is +not a single air, duet, concerted piece, or chorus, from which extracts +were not seized on and carried away by the least musical memories. So +that the advertisement of a German gentleman for a valet, who to other +necessary qualifications was to add the indispensable one of not being +able to whistle a note of "Der Freyschütz," appeared a not unnatural +result of the universal furor for this music.</p> + +<p>We went to hear it until we literally knew it by heart, and such was my +enthusiasm for it that I contrived to get up a romantic passion for the +great composer, of whom I procured a hideous little engraving (very ugly +he was, and very ugly was his "coun<a name="Page_95" id="Page_95" ></a><span class="pagenum">[95]</span>terfeit presentment," with high +cheek-bones, long hooked nose, and spectacles), which, folded up in a +small square and sewed into a black silk case, I carried like an amulet +round my neck until I completely wore it out, which was soon after poor +Weber's death.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + + +<p>The immense success of "Der Freyschütz," and the important assistance it +brought to the funds of the theater, induced my father to propose to +Weber to compose an opera expressly for Covent Garden. The proposal met +with ready acceptance, and the chivalric fairy tale of Wieland's +"Oberon" was selected for the subject, and was very gracefully and +poetically treated by Mr. Planché, to whom the literary part of the +work—the libretto—was confided, and who certainly bestowed as much +pains on the versification of his lyrical drama as if it was not +destined to be a completely secondary object to the music in the public +estimation. Weber himself, however, was by no means a man to disregard +the tenor of the words and characters he was to associate with his +music, and was greatly charmed with his English coadjutor's operatic +version of Wieland's fairy epic. He was invited to come over to London +and himself superintend the production of his new work.</p> + +<p>Representations of "Der Freyschütz" were given on his arrival, and night +after night the theater was crowded to see him preside in the orchestra +and conduct his own fine opera; and the enthusiasm of the London public +rose to fever height. Weber took up his abode at the house of Sir George +Smart, the leader of the Covent Garden orchestra, and our excellent old +friend—a capital musician and very worthy man. He was appointed +organist to King William IV., and for many years directed those +admirable performances of classical music called the Ancient Concerts.</p> + +<p>He was a man of very considerable musical knowledge, and had a peculiar +talent for teaching and accompanying the vocal compositions of Handel. +During the whole of my father's management of Covent Garden, he had the +supervision of the musical representations and conducted the orchestra, +and he was principally instrumental in bringing out Weber's fine operas +of "Der Freyschütz" and "Oberon." Weber continued to reside in Sir +George Smart's house during the whole of his stay in London, and died +there soon after the production of his <a name="Page_96" id="Page_96" ></a><span class="pagenum">[96]</span>"Oberon." Sir George Smart was +the first person who presented Mendelssohn to me. I had been acting +Juliet one night, and at the end of the play was raised from the stage +by my kind old friend, who had been in the orchestra during the +performance, with the great composer, then a young man of nineteen, on +his first visit to England. He brought letters of introduction to my +father, and made his first acquaintance with me in my grave-clothes. +Besides my esteem and regard for Sir George's more valuable qualities, I +had a particular liking for some excellent snuff he always had, and used +constantly to borrow his snuff-box to sniff at it like a perfume, not +having attained a sufficiently mature age to venture upon "pinches;" and +a snuff-taking Juliet being inadmissible, I used to wish myself at the +elderly lady age when the indulgence might be becoming: but before I +attained it, snuff was no longer taken by ladies of any age, and now, I +think, it is used by very few men.</p> + +<p>In a letter written to me by my mother, during my temporary absence from +London, just after the accession of King William IV., I find the +following passage with reference to Sir George Smart:</p> + +<p>"London is all alive; the new king seems idolized by the people, and he +appears no less pleased with them; perhaps Sir George is amongst the +happiest of his subjects. His Majesty swears that nothing shall be +encouraged but <i>native talent</i>, and our friend is to get up a concert at +the Duke of Sussex's, where the royal family are all to dine, at which +none but English singers are to perform. Sir George dined with me on +Monday, and I perceive he has already arranged in his thoughts all he +proposes <i>to tell the queen about you</i> on this occasion. It is evident +he flatters himself that he is to be deep in her Majesty's confidence."</p> + +<p>Sir George Smart and his distinguished guest, Weber, were constantly at +our house while the rehearsals of "Oberon" went forward. The first day +they dined together at my father's was an event for me, especially as +Sir George, on my entering the room, took me by the hand, and drawing me +toward Weber, assured him that I and all the young girls in England were +over head and ears in love with him. With my guilty satchel round my +neck, I felt ready to sink with confusion, and stammered out something +about Herr von Weber's beautiful music, to which, with a comical, +melancholy smile, he replied, "Ah, my music! it is always my music, but +never myself!"</p> + +<p>Baron Carl Maria von Weber was a noble-born Saxon Ger<a name="Page_97" id="Page_97" ></a><span class="pagenum">[97]</span>man, whose very +irregular youth could hardly, one would suppose, have left him leisure +to cultivate or exercise his extraordinary musical genius; but though he +spent much of his early life in wild dissipation, and died in middle +age, he left to the world a mass of compositions of the greatest variety +and beauty, and a name which ranks among the most eminent in his +pre-eminently musical country. He was a little thin man, lame of one +foot, and with a slight tendency to a deformed shoulder. His hollow, +sallow, sickly face bore an expression of habitual suffering and ill +health, and the long, hooked nose, salient cheek-bones, light, prominent +eyes, and spectacles were certainly done no more than justice to in the +unattractive representation of my cherished portrait of him.</p> + +<p>He had the air and manner of a well-born and well-bred man of the world, +a gentle voice, and a slow utterance in English, which he spoke but +indifferently and with a strong accent; he generally conversed with my +father and mother in French. One of the first visits he paid to Covent +Garden was in my mother's box, to hear Miss Paton and Braham (his prima +donna and tenor) in an oratorio. He was enthusiastic in his admiration +of Braham's fine performance of one of Handel's magnificent songs +("Deeper and deeper still," I think), but when, in the second part of +the concert, which consisted of a selection of secular music, the great +singer threw the house into ecstasies, and was tumultuously encored in +the pseudo-Scotch ballad of "Blue Bonnets over the Border," he was +extremely disgusted, and exclaimed two or three times, "Ah, that is +<i>beast</i>!" (Ah, cela est bête!) to our infinite diversion. Much more +aggravating proof was poor Weber destined to have of the famous tenor's +love of mere popularity in his art, and strange enough, no doubt, to the +great German composer was the thirst for ignorant applause which induced +Braham to reject the beautiful, tender, and majestic opening air Weber +had written for him in the character of Huon, and insist upon the +writing of a battle-piece which might split the ears of the groundlings +and the gods, and furnish him an opportunity for making some of the +startling effects of lyrical declamation which never failed to carry his +audience by storm.</p> + +<p>No singer ever delivered with greater purity or nobler breadth Handel's +majestic music; the masterly simplicity of his execution of all really +fine compositions was worthy of his first-rate powers; but the desire of +obtaining by easier and less elevated means the acclamations of his +admirers seemed irresistible to him, and "Scots wha hae," with the +flourish of his stick in the <a name="Page_98" id="Page_98" ></a><span class="pagenum">[98]</span>last verse, was a sure triumph which he +never disdained. Weber expressed unbounded astonishment and contempt at +this unartistic view of things, and with great reluctance at length +consented to suppress, or rather transfer to the overture, the noble and +pathetic melody designed for Huon's opening song, for which he submitted +the fine warlike cantata beginning—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh,'tis a glorious sight to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The charge of the Christian chivalry!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>in which, to be sure, Braham charged with the Christians, and routed the +Paynims, and mourned for the wounded, and wept for the dead, and +returned in triumph to France in the joyous cabaletta, with wonderful +dramatic effect, such as, no doubt, the other song would never have +enabled him to produce. But the success of the song did not reconcile +Weber to what he considered the vulgarity and inappropriateness of its +subject, and the circumstance lowered his opinion both of the English +singer and of the English public very grievously.</p> + +<p>How well I remember all the discussions of those prolonged, repeated, +anxious, careful rehearsals, and the comical despair of which Miss +Paton, the heroine of the opera, was the occasion to all concerned, by +the curious absence of dramatic congruity of gesture and action which +she contrived to combine with the most brilliant and expressive +rendering of the music. In the great shipwreck scene, which she sang +magnificently, she caught up the short end of a sash tied around her +waist, and twirled it about without unfastening it, by way of signaling +from the top of a rock for help from a distant vessel, the words she +sang being, "Quick, quick, for a signal this scarf shall be <i>waved</i>!" +This performance of hers drew from my father the desperate exclamation, +"That woman's an inspired idiot!" while Weber limped up and down the +room silently wringing his hands, and Sir George Smart went off into +ecstatic reminiscences of a certain performance of my mother's, when—in +some musical arrangement of "Blue Beard" (by Kelly or Storace, I think), +in the part of Sister Anne—she waved and signaled and sang from the +castle wall, "I see them galloping! I see them galloping!" after a very +different fashion, that drew shouts of sympathetic applause from her +hearers.</p> + +<p>Miss Paton married Lord William Lennox, was divorced from her husband +and married Mr. Wood, and pursued her career as a public singer for many +years successfully after this event; nor was her name in any way again +made a subject of public animadversion, though she separated herself +from Mr. <a name="Page_99" id="Page_99" ></a><span class="pagenum">[99]</span>Wood, and at one time was said to have entertained thoughts of +going into a Roman Catholic nunnery. Her singing was very admirable, and +her voice one of the finest in quality and compass that I ever heard. +The effects she produced on the stage were very remarkable, considering +the little intellectual power or cultivation she appeared to possess. My +father's expression of "an inspired idiot," though wrung from him by the +irritation of momentary annoyance, was really not inapplicable to her. +She sang with wonderful power and pathos her native Scotch ballads, she +delivered with great purity and grandeur the finest soprano music of +Handel, and though she very nearly drove poor Weber mad with her +apparent want of intelligence during the rehearsals of his great opera, +I have seldom heard any thing finer than her rendering of the difficult +music of the part of Reiza, from beginning to end, and especially the +scene of the shipwreck, with its magnificent opening recitative, "Ocean, +thou mighty monster!"</p> + +<p>"Oberon" was brought out and succeeded; but in a degree so far below the +sanguine expectations of all concerned, that failure itself, though more +surprising, would hardly have been a greater disappointment than the +result achieved at such a vast expenditure of money, time, and labor. +The expectations of the public could not have been realized by any work +which was to be judged by comparison with their already permanent +favorite, "Der Freyschütz." No second effort could have seemed any thing +but second-best, tried by the standard of that popular production; and +whatever judgment musicians and connoisseurs might pronounce as to the +respective merits of the two operas, the homely test of the "proof of +the pudding" being "in the eating" was decidedly favorable to the +master's earlier work; and my own opinion is, that either his +"Euryanthe" or his "Preciosa" would have been more popular with the +general English public than the finer and more carefully elaborated +music of "Oberon." The story of the piece (always a main consideration +in matters of art, with average English men and women) wanted interest, +certainly, as compared with that of its predecessor; the chivalric loves +and adventures of Huon of Bordeaux and the caliph's daughter were +indifferent to the audience, compared with the simple but deep interest +of the fortunes of the young German forester and his village bride; and +the gay and brilliant fairy element of the "Oberon" was no sort of +equivalent for the startling <i>diablerie</i> of Zamiel, and the incantation +scene. The music, undoubtedly of a higher order than that of "Der +Freyschütz," was incomparably <a name="Page_100" id="Page_100" ></a><span class="pagenum">[100]</span>more difficult and less popular. The whole +of the part of Reiza was trying in the extreme, even to the powers of +the great singer for whom it was written, and quite sure not to be a +favorite with prime donne from its excessive strain upon the voice, +particularly in what is the weaker part of almost all soprano registers; +and Reiza's first great aria, the first song of the fairy king, and +Huon's last song in the third act, are all compositions of which the +finest possible execution must always be without proportionate effect on +any audience, from the extreme difficulty of rendering them and their +comparative want of melody. By amateurs, out of Germany, the performance +of any part of the music was not likely ever to be successfully +attempted; and I do not think that a single piece in the opera found +favor with the street organists, though the beautiful opening chorus was +made into a church hymn by discarding the exquisite aerial fairy +symphonies and accompaniments; and the involuntary dance of the caliph's +court and servants at the last blast of the magical horn was for a short +time a favorite waltz in Germany.</p> + +<p>Poor Weber's health, which had been wretched before he came to England, +and was most unfavorably affected by the climate, sank entirely under +the mortification of the comparatively small success of his great work. +He had labored and fretted extremely with the rehearsals, and very soon +after its production he became dangerously ill, and died—not, as people +said, of a broken heart, but of disease of the lungs, already far +advanced when he came to London, and doubtless accelerated by these +influences. He died in Sir George Smart's house, who gave me, as a +memorial of the great composer whom I had so enthusiastically admired, a +lock of his hair, and the opening paragraph of his will, which was +extremely touching and impressive in its wording.</p> + +<p>The plaintive melody known as "Weber's Waltz" (said to have been his +last composition, found after his death under his pillow) was a tribute +to his memory by some younger German composer (Reichardt or Ries); but +though not his own, it owed much of its popularity to his name, with +which it will always be associated. Bellini transferred the air, +verbatim, into his opera of "Beatrice di Tenda," where it appears in her +song beginning, "Orombello, ah Sciagurato!" A circumstance which tended +to embitter a good deal the close of Weber's life was the arrival in +London of Rossini, to whom and to whose works the public immediately +transferred its demonstrations of passionate admiration with even more, +than its accustomed fickleness. <a name="Page_101" id="Page_101" ></a><span class="pagenum">[101]</span>Disparaging comparisons and contrasts to +Weber's disadvantage were drawn between the two great composers in the +public prints; the enthusiastic adulation of society and the great world +not unnaturally followed the brilliant, joyous, sparkling, witty +Italian, who was a far better subject for London <i>lionizing</i> than his +sickly, sensitive, shrinking, and rather soured German competitor for +fame and public favor.</p> + +<p>The proud, morbid sensitiveness of the Northern genius was certainly in +every respect the very antipodes of the healthy, robust, rejoicing, +artistic nature of the Southern.</p> + +<p>No better instance, though a small one, perhaps, could be given of the +tone and temper in which Rossini was likely to encounter both adverse +criticism and the adulation of amateur idolatry, than his reply to the +Duchess of Canizzaro, one of his most fanatical worshipers, who asked +him which he considered his best comic opera; when, with a burst of +joyous laughter, he named "Il Matrimonio Secreto," Cimarosa's enchanting +<i>chef-d'œuvre</i>, from which, doubtless, Rossini, after the fashion of +great geniuses, had accepted more than one most felicitous suggestion, +especially that of the admirable finale to the second act of the +"Barbiere." It was during this visit of his to London, while Weber lay +disappointed and dying in the dingy house in Great Portland Street, that +this same Duchess of Canizzaro, better known by her earlier title of +Countess St. Antonio, as a prominent leader of fashionable taste in +musical matters, invited all the great and gay and distinguished world +of London to meet the famous Italian composer; and, seated in her +drawing-room with the Duke of Wellington and Rossini on either side of +her, exclaimed, "Now I am between the two greatest men in Europe." The +Iron Duke not unnaturally rose and left his chair vacant; the great +genius retained his, but most assuredly not without humorous +appreciation of the absurdity of the whole scene, for he was almost +"plus fin que tous les autres," and certainly "bien plus fin que tous +<i>ces</i> autres."</p> + +<p>About this time I returned again to visit Mrs. Kemble at Heath Farm, and +renew my days of delightful companionship with H—— S——. Endless were +our walks and talks, and those were very happy hours in which, loitering +about Cashiobury Park, I made its echoes ring with the music of +"Oberon," singing it from beginning to end—overture, accompaniment, +choruses, and all; during which performances my friend, who was no +musician, used to keep me company in sympathetic silence, reconciled by +her affectionate indulgence for my enthu<a name="Page_102" id="Page_102" ></a><span class="pagenum">[102]</span>siasm to this utter postponement +of sense to sound. What with her peculiar costume and my bonnetless head +(I always carried my bonnet in my hand when it was possible to do so) +and frenzied singing, any one who met us might have been justified in +supposing we had escaped from the nearest lunatic asylum.</p> + +<p>Occasionally we varied our rambles, and one day we extended them so far +that the regular luncheon hour found us at such a distance from home, +that I—hungry as one is at sixteen after a long tramp—peremptorily +insisted upon having food; whereupon my companion took me to a small +roadside ale-house, where we devoured bread and cheese and drank beer, +and while thus vulgarly employed beheld my aunt's carriage drive past +the window. If that worthy lady could have seen us, that bread and +cheese which was giving us life would inevitably have been her death; +she certainly would have had a stroke of apoplexy (what the French call +<i>foudroyante</i>), for gentility and propriety were the breath of life to +her, and of the highest law of both, which can defy conventions, she +never dreamed.</p> + +<p>Another favorite indecorum of mine (the bread and cheese was mere mortal +infirmity, not moral turpitude) was wading in the pretty river that ran +through Lord Clarendon's place, the Grove; the brown, clear, shallow, +rapid water was as tempting as a highland brook, and I remember its +bright, flashing stream and the fine old hawthorn trees of the avenue, +alternate white and rose-colored, like clouds of fragrant bloom, as one +of the sunniest pictures of those sweet summer days.</p> + +<p>The charm and seduction of bright water has always been irresistible to +me, a snare and a temptation I have hardly ever been able to withstand; +and various are the chances of drowning it has afforded me in the wild +mountain brooks of Massachusetts. I think a very attached maid of mine +once saved my life by the tearful expostulations with which she opposed +the bewitching invitations of the topaz-colored flashing rapids of +Trenton Falls, that looked to me in some parts so shallow, as well as so +bright, that I was just on the point of stepping into them, charmed by +the exquisite confusion of musical voices with which they were +persuading me, when suddenly a large tree-trunk of considerable weight +shot down their flashing surface and was tossed over the fall below, +leaving me to the natural conclusion, "Just such a log should I have +been if I had gone in there." Indeed, my worthy Marie, overcome by my +importunity, having selected what seemed to her a safe, and to me a very +tame, bathing-place, in another and quieter part of <a name="Page_103" id="Page_103" ></a><span class="pagenum">[103]</span>the stream, I had +every reason, from my experience of the difficulty of withstanding its +powerful current there, to congratulate myself upon not having tried the +experiment nearer to one of the "springs" of the lovely torrent, whose +Indian name is the "Leaping Water." Certainly the pixies—whose cousin +my friends accused me of being, on account of my propensity for their +element—if they did not omit any opportunity of alluring me, allowed me +to escape scathless on more than one occasion, when I might have paid +dearly for being so much or so little related to them.</p> + +<p>This fascination of living waters for me was so well known among my +Lenox friends of all classes, that on one occasion a Yankee Jehu of our +village, driving some of them by the side of a beautiful mountain brook, +said, "I guess we should hardly have got Mrs. Kemble on at all, +alongside of this stream," as if I had been a member of his <i>team</i>, made +restive by the proximity of water. A pool in a rocky basin, with foaming +water dashing in and out of it, was a sort of trap for me, and I have +more than once availed myself of such a shower-bath, without any further +preparation than taking my hat and shoes and stockings off. Once, on a +visit to the Catskills, during a charming summer walk with my dear +friend, Catherine Sedgwick, I walked into the brook we were coasting, +and sat down in the water, without at all interrupting the thread of our +conversation; a proceeding which, of course, obliged me to return to the +hotel dripping wet, my companion laughing so immoderately at my +appearance, that, as I represented to her, it was quite impossible for +me to make anybody believe that I had met with an accident and <i>fallen</i> +into the water, which was the impression I wished (in the interest of my +reputation for sanity) to convey to such spectators as we might +encounter.</p> + +<p>On another occasion, coming over the Wengern Alp from Grindelwald one +sultry summer day, my knees were shaking under me with the steep and +prolonged descent into Lauterbrunnen. Just at the end of the wearisome +downward way an exquisite brook springs into the Lutschine, as it flies +through the valley of waterfalls, and into this I walked straight, to +the consternation of my guides and dear companion, a singularly +dignified little American lady, of Quaker descent and decorum, who was +quite at a loss to conceive how, after such an exploit, I was to present +myself to the inhabitants, tourists, and others of the little street and +its swarming hotels, in my drenched and dripping condition; but, as I +represented to her, nothing would be easier: "I shall get on my mule and +ride sprinkling along, <a name="Page_104" id="Page_104" ></a><span class="pagenum">[104]</span>and people will only say, 'Ah, cette pauvre dame! +qui est tombée à l'eau!'"</p> + +<p>My visit to my aunt Kemble was prolonged beyond the stay of my friend +H——, and I was left alone at Heath Farm. My walks were, of course, +circumscribed, and the whole complexion of my life much changed by my +being given over to lonely freedom limited only by the bounds of our +pleasure-grounds, and my living converse with my friend exchanged for +unrestricted selection from my aunt's book-shelves; from which I made a +choice of extreme variety, since Lord Byron and Jeremy Taylor were among +the authors with whom I then first made acquaintance, my school +introduction to the former having been followed up by no subsequent +intimacy.</p> + +<p>I read them on alternate days, sitting on the mossy-cushioned lawn, +under a beautiful oak tree, with a cabbage-leaf full of fresh-gathered +strawberries and a handful of fresh-blown roses beside me, which +Epicurean accompaniments to my studies appeared to me equally adapted to +the wicked poet and the wise divine. Mrs. Kemble in no way interfered +with me, and was quite unconscious of the subjects of my studies; she +thought me generally "a very odd girl," but though I occasionally took a +mischievous pleasure in perplexing her by fantastical propositions, to +which her usual reply was a rather acrimonious "Don't be absurd, Fanny," +she did not at all care to investigate my oddity, and left me to my own +devices.</p> + +<p>Among her books I came upon Wraxall's "Memoirs of the House of Valois," +and, reading it with great avidity, determined to write an historical +novel, of which the heroine should be Françoise de Foix, the beautiful +Countess de Châteaubriand. At this enterprise I now set eagerly to work, +the abundant production of doggerel suffering no diminution from this +newer and rather soberer literary undertaking, to which I added a brisk +correspondence with my absent friend, and a task she had set me (perhaps +with some vague desire of giving me a little solid intellectual +occupation) of copying for her sundry portions of "Harris's Hermes;" a +most difficult and abstruse grammatical work, much of which was in +Latin, not a little in Greek. All these I faithfully copied, Chinese +fashion, understanding the English little better than the two dead +languages which I transcribed—the Greek without much difficulty, owing +to my school-day proficiency in the alphabet of that tongue. These +literary exercises, walks within bounds, drives with my aunt, and the +occasional solemnity of a dinner at Lord Essex's, were the events of my +life till my aunt, Mrs. Whitelock, came <a name="Page_105" id="Page_105" ></a><span class="pagenum">[105]</span>to Heath Farm and brought an +element of change into the procession of our days.</p> + +<p>I think these two widowed ladies had entertained some notion that they +might put their solitude together and make society; but the experiment +did not succeed, and was soon judiciously abandoned, for certainly two +more hopelessly dissimilar characters never made the difficult +experiment of a life in common.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kemble, before she went to Switzerland, had lived in the best +London society, with which she kept up her intercourse by zealous +correspondence; the names of lords and ladies were familiar in her mouth +as household words, and she had undoubtedly an undue respect for +respectability and reverence for titled folk; yet she was not at all +superficially a vulgar woman. She was quick, keen, clever, and shrewd, +with the air, manner, dress, and address of a finished woman of the +world. Mrs. Whitelock was simple-hearted and single-minded, had never +lived in any English society whatever, and retorted but feebly the +fashionable gossip of the day which reached Mrs. Kemble through the +London post, with her transatlantic reminiscences of Prince Talleyrand +and General Washington. She was grotesque in her manner and appearance, +and a severe thorn in the side of her conventionally irreproachable +companion, who has been known, on the approach of some coroneted +carriage, to observe pointedly, "Mrs. Whitelock, there is an +<i>ekkipage</i>." "I see it, ma'am," replied the undaunted Mrs. Whitelock, +screwing up her mouth and twirling her thumbs in a peculiarly emphatic +way, to which she was addicted in moments of crisis. Mrs. Kemble, who +was as quick as Pincher in her movements, rang the bell and snapped out, +"Not at home!" denying herself her stimulating dose of high-life gossip, +and her companion what she would have called a little "genteel +sociability," rather than bring face to face her fine friends and Mrs. +Whitelock's flounced white muslin apron and towering Pamela cap, for she +still wore such things. I have said that Mrs. Kemble was not +(superficially) a vulgar woman, but it would have taken the soul of +gentility to have presented, without quailing, her amazingly odd +companion to her particular set of visitors. A humorist would have found +his account in the absurdity of the scene all round; and Jane Austen +would have made a delicious chapter of it; but Mrs. Kemble had not the +requisite humor to perceive the fun of her companion, her acquaintances, +and herself in juxtaposition. I have mentioned her mode of pronouncing +the word equipage, which, together with several similar peculiarities +that struck me as very odd, <a name="Page_106" id="Page_106" ></a><span class="pagenum">[106]</span>were borrowed from the usage of London good +society in the days when she frequented it. My friend, Lord Lansdowne, +never called London any thing but <i>Lunnon</i>, and always said <i>obleege</i> +for oblige, like the Miss Berrys and Mrs. F—— and other of their +contemporaries, who also said <i>ekkipage</i>, <i>pettikits</i>, <i>divle</i>. Since +their time the pronunciation of English in good society, whose usage is +the only acknowledged law in that matter, and the grammatical +construction of the language habitual in that same good society, has +become such as would have challenged the severest criticism, if we had +ventured upon it in my father's house.</p> + +<p>The unsuccessful partnership of my aunts was dissolved. Mrs. Kemble +found the country intolerably dull, declared that the grass and trees +made her sick, and fixed her abode in Leamington, then a small, +unpretending, pretty country town, which (principally on account of the +ability, reputation, and influence of its celebrated and popular +resident physician, Dr. Jephson) was a sort of aristocratic-invalid Kur +Residenz, and has since expanded into a thriving, populous, showy, +semi-fashionable, Anglo-American watering-place in summer, and +hunting-place in winter. Mrs. Kemble found the Leamington of her day a +satisfactory abode; the Æsculapius, whose especial shrine it was, became +her intimate friend; the society was comparatively restricted and +select; and the neighborhood, with Warwick Castle, Stoneleigh Abbey, and +Guy's Cliff, full of state and ancientry, within a morning's drive, was +(which she cared less for) lovely in every direction. Mrs. Whitelock +betook herself to a really rural life in a cottage in the beautiful +neighborhood of Addlestone, in Surrey, where she lived in much simple +content, bequeathing her small mansion and estate, at her death, to my +mother, who passed there the last two years of her life and died there. +I never returned to Heath Farm again; sometimes, as I steam by Watford, +the image of the time I spent there rises again before me, but I pass +from it at forty miles an hour, and it passed from me upwards of forty +years ago.</p> + +<p>We were now occupying the last of the various houses which for a series +of years we inhabited at Bayswater; it belonged to a French Jew diamond +seller, and was arranged and fitted up with the peculiar tastefulness +which seems innate across the Channel, and inimitable even on the +English side of it. There was one peculiarity in the drawing-room of +this house which I have always particularly liked: a low chimney with a +window over it, the shutter to which was a sliding panel of +looking-<a name="Page_107" id="Page_107" ></a><span class="pagenum">[107]</span>glass, so that both by day and candle light the effect was +equally pretty.</p> + +<p>At this time I was promoted to the dignity of a bedroom "to myself," +which I was able to make into a small study, the privacy of which I +enjoyed immensely, as well as the window opening above our suburban bit +of garden, and the sloping meadows beyond it. The following letters, +written at this time to my friend Miss S——, describe the interests and +occupations of my life. It was in the May of 1827. I was between sixteen +and seventeen, which will naturally account for the characteristics of +these epistles.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p class="dateline"><span class="smcap">Bayswater</span>, May, 1827.</p> +<p class="salutation"><span class="smcap">Dear H——</span>:</p> + +<p>I fear you will think me forgetful and unkind in not having +answered your last letter; but if you do, you are mistaken—nor +ungrateful, which my silence, after the kind interest you have +taken in me and mine, seems to be. But when I tell you that besides +the many things that have occupied my mind connected with the +present situation of our affairs, my hands have been full of work +nearly as dismal as my thoughts—mourning—you will easily +understand and excuse the delay.</p> + +<p>Do not be alarmed; the person for whom we are in black has been so +little known to me since my childhood, was so old and infirm, and +so entirely cheerful, resigned, and even desirous of leaving this +world, that few, even of those who knew and loved him better than I +did, could, without selfishness, lament his release. Mr. Twiss, the +father of my cousin Horace, is dead lately; and it is of him that I +speak. He has unfortunately left three daughters, who, though doing +well for themselves in the world, will now feel a sad void in the +circle of their home affections and interests.</p> + +<p>And now, dear H——, for myself, or ourselves, rather; for, as you +may well suppose, my whole thoughts are taken up with our +circumstances.</p> + +<p>I believe in my last I told you pretty nearly all I knew, or indeed +any of us knew, of our affairs; the matter is now much clearer, and +not a whit pleasanter.</p> + +<p>It seems that my father, as proprietor of Covent Garden Theater, in +consequence of this lawsuit and the debts which encumber the +concern, is liable at any time to be called upon for twenty-seven +thousand pounds; which, for a man who can not raise five thousand, +is not a pleasant predicament. On the other hand, Mr. Harris, our +adversary, and joint proprietor <a name="Page_108" id="Page_108" ></a><span class="pagenum">[108]</span>with my father, is also liable to +enormous demands, if the debts should be insisted upon at present.</p> + +<p>The creditors have declared that they are entirely satisfied that +my father, and Messrs. Forbes and Willett, the other partners, have +done every thing with respect to them which honorable men could do, +and offer to wait till some compromise can be made with Mr. Harris, +who, it is thought, will be willing to enter into any arrangement +rather than be irretrievably ruined, as we all must be unless some +agreement takes place between the proprietors. In the meantime, the +lawyers have advised our party to appeal from the decision of the +Vice-Chancellor. Amid all this perplexity and trouble, we have had +the satisfaction of hearing that John and Henry are both doing +well; we received a letter from the latter a short time ago, full +of affection and kindness to us all. I wish you could have seen my +father's countenance as he read it, and with what fondness and +almost gratitude he kissed dear Henry's name, while the tears were +standing in his eyes. I can not help thinking sometimes that my +father deserved a less hard and toilsome existence.</p> + +<p>He has resolved that, come what may, he will keep those boys at +their respective schools, if he can by any means compass it; and if +(which I fear is the case) he finds Bury St. Edmunds too expensive, +we shall remove to Westminster, in order that Henry's education may +not suffer from our circumstances. Last Thursday was my father's +benefit, and a very indifferent one, which I think is rather hard, +considering that he really slaves night and day, and every night +and every day, in that theater. Cecilia Siddons and I have opened a +poetical correspondence; she writes very prettily indeed. Perhaps, +had she not had such a bad subject as myself to treat of, I might +have said more of her verses. You will be sorry to hear that not +only my poor mother's health, but what is almost as precious, her +good spirits, have been dreadfully affected by all her anxiety; +indeed, her nerves have been so utterly deranged that she has been +alternately deaf and blind, and sometimes both, for the last +fortnight. Thank Heaven she is now recovering!</p> + + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Craven Hill, Bayswater</span>, May, 1827.</p> +<p class="salutation"><span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>: +</p> + +<p>I received your letter the day before yesterday, and felt very much +obliged to you for it, and was particularly interested by your +description of Kenilworth, round which Walter Scott's admirable +novel has cast a halo of romance forever; for many who would have +cared little about it as the residence of Leices<a name="Page_109" id="Page_109" ></a><span class="pagenum">[109]</span>ter, honored for +some days by the presence of Elizabeth, will remember with a thrill +of interest and pity the night poor Amy Robsart passed there, and +the scene between her, Leicester, and the queen, when that prince +of villains, Varney, claims her as his wife. But in spite of the +romantic and historical associations belonging to the place, I do +not think it would have "inspired my muse."</p> + +<p>Of our affairs I know nothing, except that we are going to remove +to Westminster, on account of Henry's schooling, as soon as we can +part with this house.</p> + +<p>You will be glad to hear that my mother is a great deal better, +though still suffering from nervousness. She desires to be most +kindly remembered to you and to my aunt Kemble, and would feel very +much obliged to you if you can get from Mrs. Kemble the name and +address of the man who built her pony carriage. Do this, and send +it in the next letter you write to me, which must be long, but not +"long a-coming."</p> + +<p>I am glad you like Miss W——, but take care not to like her better +than me; and I am very glad you think of Heath Farm sometimes, for +there, I know, I must be in some corner or other of the picture, be +the foreground what it may. At this time, when the hawthorn is all +out and the nightingales are singing, even here, I think of the +quantities of May we gathered for my wreaths, and the little scrap +of the nightingale's song we used to catch on the lawn between tea +and bedtime. I have been writing a great deal of poetry—at least I +mean it for such, and I hope it is not all very bad, as my father +has expressed himself surprised and pleased at some things I read +him lately. I wish I could send you some of my perpetrations, but +they are for the most part so fearfully long that it is impossible. +You ask about my uncle's monument: I can tell you nothing about it +at present; it is where the memory of the public, the perseverance +of the projectors, Flaxman's genius, and John Kemble's fame are. Do +you know where that is? No more do I.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Craven Hill, Bayswater</span>, June 8, 1827.</p> +<p class="salutation"><span class="smcap">My dear H——</span>: +</p> + +<p>I am sure you will rejoice with us all when I inform you that John +has at length exerted himself successfully, and has obtained one of +the highest literary honors conferred by Cambridge on its students: +these are his tutor's very words, therefore I leave you to imagine +how delighted and grateful we all are; indeed, the day we received +the intelligence, we all, with <a name="Page_110" id="Page_110" ></a><span class="pagenum">[110]</span>my father at our head, looked more +like hopeful candidates for Bedlam than any thing else. My poor +father jumped, and clapped his hands, and kissed the letter, like a +child; as my mother says, "I am glad he has one gleam of sunshine, +at least;" he sadly wanted it, and I know nothing that could have +given him so much pleasure. Pray tell my aunt Kemble of it. I dare +say she will be glad to hear it. [My brother's tutor was Mr. +Peacock, the celebrated mathematician, well known at Cambridge as +one of the most eminent members of the university, and a private +tutor of whom all his pupils were deservedly proud; even those who, +like my brother John, cultivated the classical studies in +preference to the severe scientific subjects of which Mr. Peacock +was so illustrious a master. His praise of my brother was +regretful, though most ungrudging, for his own sympathy was +entirely with the intellectual pursuits for which Cambridge was +peculiarly famous, as the mathematical university, in +contradistinction to the classical tendency supposed to prevail at +this time among the teachers and students of Oxford.]</p> + +<p>And now let me thank you for your last long letter, and the +detailed criticism it contained of my lines; if they oftener passed +through such a wholesome ordeal, I should probably scribble less +than I do. You ask after my novel of "Françoise de Foix," and my +translation of Sismondi's History; the former may, perhaps, be +finished some time these next six years; the latter is, and has +been, in Dr. Malkin's hands ever since I left Heath Farm. What you +say of scriptural subjects I do not always think true; for +instance, "By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept," does not +appear to me to have lost much beauty by Byron's poetical +paraphrase. We are really going to leave this pleasant place, and +take up our abode in Westminster; how I shall regret my dear little +room, full of flowers and books, and with its cheerful view. Enfin +il n'y faut plus penser. I have, luckily, the faculty of easily +accommodating myself to circumstances, and though sorry to leave my +little hermitage, I shall soon take root in the next place. With +all my dislike to moving, my great wish is to travel; but perhaps +that is not an absolute inconsistency, for what I wish is never to +remain long enough in a place to take root, or, having done so, +never to be transplanted. I am writing a journal, and its pages, +like our many pleasant hours of conversation, are a whimsical +medley of the sad, the sober, the gay, the good, the bad, and the +ridiculous; not at all the sort of serious, solemn journal you +would write.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<a name="Page_111" id="Page_111" ></a><span class="pagenum">[111]</span> +<span class="smcap">Craven Hill, Bayswater</span>, ——, 1827.</p> +<p class="salutation"> <span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>: +</p> + +<p>I am afraid you are wondering once more whether I have the gout in +my hands; but so many circumstances have latterly arisen to occupy +my time and attention that I have had but little leisure for +letter-writing. You are now once more comfortably re-established in +your little turret chamber [Miss S——'s room in her home, +Ardgillan Castle], which I intend to come and storm some day, +looking over your pleasant lawn to the beautiful sea and hills. I +ought to envy you, and yet, when I look round my own little +snuggery, which is filled with roses and the books I love, and +where not a ray of sun penetrates, though it is high noon and +burning hot, I only envy you your own company, which I think would +be a most agreeable addition to the pleasantness of my little room. +I am sadly afraid, however, that I shall soon be called upon to +leave it, for though our plans are still so unsettled as to make it +quite impossible to say what will be our destination, it is, I +think, almost certain that we shall leave this place.</p> + +<p>We have had Mrs. Henry Siddons, with her youngest daughter, staying +with us for a short time; she is now going on through Paris to +Switzerland, on account of my cousin's delicate health, which +renders Scotland an unsafe residence for her. John is also at home +just now, which, as you may easily believe, is an invaluable gain +to me; I rather think, however, that my mother is not of that +opinion, for he talks and thinks of nothing but politics, and she +has a great dread of my becoming imbued with his mania; a needless +fear, I think, however, for though I am willing and glad to listen +to his opinions and the arguments of his favorite authors, I am +never likely to study them myself, and my interest in the whole +subject will cease with his departure for Cambridge.</p> + +<p>Henry returned from Bury St. Edmunds, and my father left us for +Lancaster last night, and we are now in daily expectation of +departing for Weybridge, so that the last fortnight has been one +continual bustle.</p> + +<p>I have had another reason for not writing to you, which I have only +just made up my mind to tell you. Dick —— has been taking my +likeness, or rather has begun to do so. I thought, dear H——, that +you would like to have this sketch, and I was in hopes that the +first letter you received in Ireland from me would contain it; but, +alas! Dick is as inconstant and capricious as a genius need be, and +there lies my fac-simile in a state of non-conclusion; they all +tell me it is very like, but <a name="Page_112" id="Page_112" ></a><span class="pagenum">[112]</span>it does appear to me so pretty that I +am divided between satisfaction and incredulity. My father, I +lament to say, left us last night in very bad spirits. I never saw +him so depressed, and feared that my poor mother would suffer +to-day from her anxiety about him; however, she is happily pretty +well to-day, and I trust will soon, what with Weybridge and +pike-fishing, recover her health and spirits entirely.</p> + +<p>I suspect this will be the last summer we shall spend at Weybridge, +as we are going to give our cottage up, I believe. I shall regret +it extremely for my mother; it is agreeable to and very good for +her. I do not care much about it for myself; indeed, I care very +little where I go; I do not like leaving any place, but the tie of +habit, which is quickly formed and strong in me, once broken, I can +easily accommodate myself to the next change, which, however, I +always pray may be the last. My mother and myself had yesterday a +serious, and to me painful, conversation on the necessity of not +only not hating society, but tolerating and mixing in it. She and +my father have always been disinclined to it, but their +disinclination has descended to me in the shape of active dislike, +and I feel sometimes inclined to hide myself, to escape sitting +down and communing with my fellow-creatures after the fashion that +calls itself social intercourse. I can't help fancying (which, +however, <i>may</i> be a great mistake) that the hours spent in my own +room reading and writing are better employed than if devoted to +people and things in which I feel no interest whatever, and do not +know how to pretend the contrary.</p> + +<p>I must do justice to my mother, however, for any one more +reasonable, amiable, and kind, in this as in most respects, can not +exist than herself; but nevertheless, when I went to bed last night +I sat by my open window, looking at the moon and thinking of my +social duties, and then scribbled endless doggerel in a highly +Byronic mood to deliver my mind upon the subject, after which, +feeling amazingly better, I went to bed and slept profoundly, +satisfied that I had given "society" a death-blow. But really, +jesting apart, the companionship of my own family—those I live +with, I mean—satisfies me entirely, and I have not the least +desire for any other.</p> + +<p>Good-by, my dearest H——; do not punish me for not writing sooner +by not answering this for two months; but be a nice woman and write +very soon to yours ever,</p> + +<p class="signature"><span class="smcap">Fanny</span>.</p> + +<p>P.S.—I am reading the memoirs of Mademoiselle de Mont<a name="Page_113" id="Page_113" ></a><span class="pagenum">[113]</span>pensier, la +Grande Mademoiselle, written by herself: if you never read them, +do; they are very interesting and amusing.</p></div> + +<p>The "Dick" mentioned in this letter was the nephew of my godmother, Miss +A—— W——, of Stafford, and son of Colonel ——, a Staffordshire +gentleman of moderate means, who went to Germany and settled at +Darmstadt, for the sake of giving a complete education in foreign +languages and accomplishments to his daughters. His eldest son was in +the Church. They resided at the little German court till the young girls +became young women, remarkable for their talents and accomplishments. In +the course of their long residence at Darmstadt they had become intimate +with the reigning duke and his family, whose small royalty admitted of +such friendly familiarity with well-born and well-bred foreigners. But +when Colonel —— brought his wife and daughters back to England, like +most other English people who try a similar experiment, the change from +being decided <i>somebodies</i> in the court circle of a German principality +(whose sovereign was chiefly occupied, it is true, with the government +of his opera-house) to being decided <i>nobodies</i> in the huge mass of +obscure, middle-class English gentility, was all but intolerable to +them.</p> + +<p>The peculiar gift of their second son, my eccentric friend Richard, was +a genius for painting, which might have won him an honored place among +English artists, had he ever chosen to join their ranks as a competitor +for fame and fortune.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Eastlands Cottage, Weybridge</span>, ——, 1827.</p> +<p class="salutation"><span class="smcap">My dear H——</span>: +</p> + +<p>I wrote to you immediately upon our arriving here, which is now +nearly a month ago, but having received no answer, and not having +heard from you for some time, I conjecture that our charming +post-office has done as it did last year, and kept my letters to +itself. I therefore take the opportunity, which my brother's +departure for town to-morrow gives me, of writing to you and having +my letter posted in London. John's going to town is an extreme loss +to me, for here we are more thrown together and companionable than +we can be in London. His intellectual occupations and interests +engross him very much, and though always very interesting to me, +are seldom discussed with or communicated to me as freely there as +they are here—I suppose for want of better fellowship. I have +latterly, also, summoned up courage enough to request him to walk +with me; <a name="Page_114" id="Page_114" ></a><span class="pagenum">[114]</span>and to my some surprise and great satisfaction, instead of +the "I can't, I am really so busy," he has acquiesced, and we have +had one or two very pleasant long strolls together. He is certainly +a very uncommon person, and I admire, perhaps too enthusiastically, +his great abilities.</p> + +<p>My father is in Paris, where he was to arrive yesterday, and where +to-morrow he will act in the first regularly and decently organized +English theater that the French ever saw. He is very nervous, and +we, as you may easily conceive, very anxious about it; when next I +write to you I will let you know all that we hear of the result. I +must repeat some part of my last letter, in case you did not +receive it. We have taken a house in James Street, Buckingham Gate, +Westminster, which appears to be in every way a desirable and +convenient abode; in itself it is comfortable and cheerful, and its +nearness to Henry's school and comparative nearness to the theatre, +together with its view over the park, and (though last, not least) +its moderate rent, make up a mass of combined advantages which few +other situations that we could afford can present.</p> + +<p>I am extremely busy, dearest H——, and extremely elated about my +play; I know I mentioned it before to you, but you may have +reckoned it as one of the soap-bubbles which I am so fond of +blowing, admiring, and forgetting; however, when I tell you that I +have finished three acts of it, and that the proprietors of Covent +Garden have offered me, if it succeeds, two hundred pounds (the +price Miss Mitford's "Foscari" brought her), you will agree that I +have some reason to be proud as well as pleased.</p> + +<p>As nobody but myself can give you any opinion of it, you must be +content to take my own, making all allowances for etc., etc., etc. +I think, irrespective of age or sex, it is not a bad play—perhaps, +considering both, a tolerably fair one; there is some good writing +in it, and good situations; the latter I owe to suggestions of my +mother's, who is endowed with what seems to me really a science by +itself, i.e. the knowledge of producing dramatic effect; more +important to a playwright than even true delineation of character +or beautiful poetry, in spite of what Alfieri says: "Un attore che +dirà bene, delle cose belle si farà ascoltare per forza." But the +"ben dire cose belle" will not make a play without striking +situations and effects succeed, for all that; at any rate with an +English audience of the present day. Moreover (but this, as well as +everything about my play, must be <i>entre nous</i> for the present), my +father has offered <a name="Page_115" id="Page_115" ></a><span class="pagenum">[115]</span>me either to let me sell my play to a +bookseller, or to buy it for the theatre at fifty pounds.</p> + +<p>Fifty pounds is the very utmost that any bookseller would give for +a successful play, <i>mais en revanche</i>, by selling my play to the +theater it cannot be read or known as a literary work, and as to +make a name for myself as a writer is the aim of my ambition, I +think I shall decline his offer. My dearest H——, this quantity +about myself and my pursuits will, I am afraid, appear very +egotistical to you, but I rely on your unchangeable affection for +me to find some interest in what is interesting me so much.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Always you most affectionate</p> +<p class="signature"><span class="smcap">Fanny</span>. +</p></div> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + + +<p>The success of the English theater in Paris was quite satisfactory; and +all the most eminent members of the profession—Kean, Young, Macready, +and my father—went over in turn to exhibit to the Parisian public +Shakespeare the Barbarian, illustrated by his barbarian +fellow-countrymen. I do not remember hearing of any very eminent actress +joining in that worthy enterprise; but Miss Smithson, a young lady with +a figure and face of Hibernian beauty, whose superfluous native accent +was no drawback to her merits in the esteem of her French audience, +represented to them the heroines of the English tragic drama; the +incidents of which, infinitely more startling than any they were used +to, invested their fair victim with an amazing power over her foreign +critics, and she received from them, in consequence, a rather +disproportionate share of admiration—due, perhaps, more to the +astonishing circumstances in which she appeared before them than to the +excellence of her acting under them.</p> + +<p>One of the most enthusiastic admirers of the English representations +said to my father, "Ah! parlez moi d'Othello! voilà, voilà la passion, +la tragédie. Dieu! que j'aime cette pièce! il y a tant de +<i>remue-ménage</i>."</p> + +<p>A few rash and superficial criticisms were hardly to be avoided; but in +general, my father has often said, in spite of the difficulty of the +foreign language, and the strangeness of the foreign form of thought and +feeling and combination of inci<a name="Page_116" id="Page_116" ></a><span class="pagenum">[116]</span>dent, his Parisian audience never +appeared to him to miss the finer touches or more delicate and refined +shades of his acting; and in this respect he thought them superior to +his own countrymen. Lamartine and Victor Hugo had already proclaimed the +enfranchisement of French poetical thought from the rigid rule of +classical authority; and all the enthusiastic believers in the future +glories of the "Muse Romantique" went to the English theater, to be +amazed, if not daunted, by the breadth of horizon and height of empyrean +which her wings might sweep, and into which she might soar, "puisque +Shakespeare l'a bien osé."</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">St. James Street, Buckingham Gate</span>, October +11, 1827,</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I do not think you would have been surprised at my delay in +answering your last, when I told you that on arriving here I found +that all my goods and chattels had been (according to my own +desire) only removed hither, and that their arrangement and +bestowal still remained to be effected by myself; and when I tell +you that I have settled all these matters, and moreover <i>finished +my play</i>, I think you will excuse my not having answered you +sooner. Last Monday, having in the morning achieved the termination +of the fourth act, and finding that my father did not act on +Tuesday, I resolved, if possible, to get it finished in order to +read it to him on Tuesday evening. So on Monday evening at six +o'clock I sat down to begin my fifth act, and by half-past eleven +had completed my task; I am thus minute because I know you will not +think these details tiresome, and also because, even if it succeeds +and is praised and admired, I shall never feel so happy as when my +father greeted my entrance into the drawing-room with, "Is it done, +my love? I shall be the happiest man alive if it succeeds!"</p> + +<p>On Tuesday evening I read it to them, and I was so encouraged by +the delighted looks my father and mother were continually +exchanging, that I believe I read it with more effect than they +either of them had thought me capable of. When it was done I was +most richly rewarded, for they all seemed so pleased with me and so +proud of me, that the most inordinate author's vanity would have +been satisfied. And my dear mother, oh, how she looked at +me!—forgive me, dear, and grant some little indulgence to my +exultation. I thought I deserved some praise, but thrice my deserts +were showered upon me by those I love above everything in the +world.</p> + +<p>When commendation and congratulation had a little given way <a name="Page_117" id="Page_117" ></a><span class="pagenum">[117]</span>to +reflection, my mother and John entreated my father not to let the +play be acted, or, if he did, to have it published first; for they +said (and their opinion has been sanctioned by several literary +men) that the work as a literary production (I repeat what they +say, mind) has merit enough to make it desirable that the public +should judge of it as a poetical composition before it is submitted +to the mangling necessary for the stage.</p> + +<p>Of course, my task being finished, I have nothing more to do with +it; nor do I care whether it is published first or after, provided +only it may be acted: though I dare say that process may not prove +entirely satisfactory to me either; for though Mr. Young and my +father would thoroughly embody my conception of the parts intended +for them, yet there is a woman's part which, considering the +materials history has furnished, ought to be a very fine +one—Louisa of Savoy; and it must be cut down to the capacity of a +second-rate actress. The character would have been the sort of one +for Mrs. Siddons; how I wish she was yet in a situation to afford +it the high preferment of her acceptance!</p> + +<p>My father has obtained a most unequivocal success in Paris, the +more flattering as it was rather doubtful, and the excellent +Parisians not only received him very well, but forthwith threw +themselves into a headlong <i>furor</i> for Shakespeare and Charles +Kemble, which, although they might not improbably do the same +to-morrow for two dancing dogs, <i>we</i> are quite willing to attribute +to the merits of the poet and his interpreter. The French papers +have been profuse in their praises of both, and some of our own +have quoted their commendations. My mother is, I think, recovering, +though slowly, from her long illness. She is less deaf, and rather +less blind; but for the general state of her health, time, and time +alone, will, I am sure, restore it entirely. I have just seen the +dress that my father had made abroad for his part in my play: a +bright amber-colored <i>velours épinglé</i>, with a border of rich +silver embroidery; this, together with a cloak of violet velvet +trimmed with imitation sable. The fashion is what you see in all +the pictures and prints of Francis I. My father is very anxious, I +think, to act the play; my mother, to have it published before it +is acted; and I sit and hear it discussed and praised and +criticised, only longing (like a "silly wench," as my mother calls +me when I confess as much to her) to see my father in his lovely +dress and hear the <i>alarums of my fifth act</i>.</p> + +<p>I am a little mad, I suppose, and my letter a little tipsy, I dare +say, but I am ever your most affectionate</p> + +<p class="signature"><span class="smcap">Fanny</span>.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118" ></a><span class="pagenum">[118]</span> +<span class="smcap">16 St. James Street, Buckingham Gate, Westminster,</span><br /> +October 21, 1827.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dear H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>Your letter was short and sweet, but none the sweeter for being +short. I should have thought no one could have been worse provided +than myself with news or letter chit-chit, and yet I think my +letters are generally longer than yours; brevity, in you, is a +fault; do not be guilty of it again: "car du reste," as Madame de +Sévigné says, "votre style est parfait." John returned to Cambridge +on Thursday night. He is a great loss to me, for though I have seen +but little of him since our return to town, that little is too much +to lose of one we love. He is an excellent fellow in every way, and +in the way of abilities he is particularly to my mind. We all miss +him very much; however, his absence will be broken now by visits to +London, in order to keep his term [about this time my brother was +entered at the Inner Temple, I think], so that we shall +occasionally enjoy his company for a day or two. I should like to +tell you something about my play, but unluckily have nothing to +tell; everything about it is as undecided as when last I wrote to +you. It is in the hands of the copyist of Covent Garden, but what +its ultimate fate is to be I know not. If it is decided that it is +to be brought out on the stage before publication, that will not +take place at present, because this is a very unfavorable time of +year. If I can send it to Ireland, tell me how I can get it +conveyed to you, and I will endeavor to do so. I should like you to +read it, but oh, <i>how</i> I should like to go and see it acted with +you! I am now full of thoughts of writing a comedy, and have drawn +out the plan of one—plot, acts, and scenes in due order—already; +and I mean to make it Italian and mediæval, for the sake of having +one of those bewitching creatures, a jester, in it; I have an +historical one in my play, Triboulet, whom I have tried to make an +interesting as well as an amusing personage.</p> + +<p>My mother, by the aid of a blister and <i>my play</i>, is, I think, +recovering, though slowly, from her illness; she is still, though, +in a state of great suffering, which is by no means alleviated by +being unable to write, read, work, or occupy herself in any manner.</p> + +<p>We have been to the play pretty regularly twice a week for the last +three weeks, and shall continue to do so during the whole winter; +which is a plan I much approve of. I am very fond of going to the +play, and Kean, Young, and my father make one of Shakespeare's +plays something well worth seeing. <a name="Page_119" id="Page_119" ></a><span class="pagenum">[119]</span>I saw the "Merchant of Venice" +the other evening, for the first time, and returned home a violent +<i>Keanite</i>. That man is an extraordinary creature! Some of the +things he did, appeared, on reflection, questionable to my judgment +and open to criticism; but while under the influence of his amazing +power of passion it is impossible to reason, analyze, or do +anything but surrender one's self to his forcible appeals to one's +emotions. He entirely divested Shylock of all poetry or elevation, +but invested it with a concentrated ferocity that made one's blood +curdle. He seemed to me to combine the supernatural malice of a +fiend with the base reality of the meanest humanity. His passion is +prosaic, but all the more intensely terrible for that very reason. +I am to see him to-morrow in "Richard III.," and, though I never +saw the play before, am afraid I shall be disappointed, because +Richard III. is a Plantagenet Prince, and should be a royal +villain, and I am afraid Mr. Kean will not have the innate +<i>majesty</i> which I think belongs to the part; however, we shall see, +and when next I write I will tell you how it impressed me.</p> + +<p>You deserve that I should bestow all my tediousness upon you, for +loving me as well as you do. Mrs. Harry Siddons and her daughter +are here for two or three days, on their return from their tour +through Switzerland. Mrs. Harry is all that is excellent, though +she does not strike me as particularly clever; and Lizzy is a very +pretty, very good, very sweet, very amiable girl. Her brother, my +cousin, the midshipman, is here too, having come up from Portsmouth +to meet his mother and sister, so that the house is full. Think of +that happy girl having travelled all through Switzerland, seen the +Jungfrau—Manfred's mountain—been in two violent storms at night +on the lakes, and telling me placidly that "she liked it all very +well." Oh dear, oh dear! how queerly Heaven does distribute +privileges! Good-by, dear.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Yours ever,</p><p class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Fanny</span>.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">16 St. James Street, Buckingham Gate</span>, December, 1827.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>My heart is full of joy, and I write that you may rejoice with me; +our dear John has distinguished himself greatly, but lest my words +should seem sisterly and exaggerated, I will repeat what Mr. +Peacock, his tutor, wrote to my father: "He has covered himself +with glory. Such an oration as his has not <a name="Page_120" id="Page_120" ></a><span class="pagenum">[120]</span>been heard for many +years in Cambridge, and it was as tastefully and modestly delivered +as it was well written." This has made us all <i>very, very</i> happy, +and though the first news of it overcame my poor mother, whose +nerves are far from firm, she soon recovered, and we are +impatiently expecting his return from college. My play is at +present being pruned by my father, and will therefore not occupy my +thoughts again till it comes out, which I hope will be at Easter. I +did not write sooner, because I had nothing to say; but now that +this joy about my brother has come to me, <i>je te l'envoie</i>. Since +last you heard from me I have seen the great West India Dock and +the Thames Tunnel. Oh, H——, "que c'est une jolie chose que +l'homme!" Annihilated by any one of the elements if singly opposed +to its power, he by his genius yet brings their united forces into +bondage, and compels obedience from all their manifold combined +strength. We penetrate the earth, we turn the course of rivers, we +exalt the valleys and bow down the mountains; and we die and return +to our dust, and they remain and remember us no more. Often enough, +indeed, the names of great inventors and projectors have been +overshadowed or effaced by mere finishers of their work or adapters +of their idea, who have reaped the honor and emolument due to an +obscure originator, who passes away from the world, his rightful +claim to its admiration and gratitude unknown or unacknowledged. +But these obey the law of their being; they cannot but do the work +God's inspiration calls them to.</p> + +<p>But I must tell you what this tunnel is like, or at least try to do +so. You enter, by flights of stairs, the first door, and find +yourself on a circular platform which surrounds the top of a well +or shaft, of about two hundred feet in circumference and five +hundred in depth. This well is an immense iron frame of cylindrical +form, filled in with bricks; it was constructed on level ground, +and then, by some wonderful mechanical process, sunk into the +earth. In the midst of this is a steam engine, and above, or below, +as far as your eye can see, huge arms are working up and down, +while the creaking, crashing, whirring noises, and the swift +whirling of innumerable wheels all round you, make you feel for the +first few minutes as if you were going distracted. I should have +liked to look much longer at all these beautiful, wise, working +creatures, but was obliged to follow the last of the party through +all the machinery, down little wooden stairs and along tottering +planks, to the bottom of the well. On turning round at the foot of +the last flight of steps through an immense dark arch, as far as +sight could <a name="Page_121" id="Page_121" ></a><span class="pagenum">[121]</span>reach stretched a vaulted passage, smooth earth +underfoot, the white arches of the roof beyond one another +lengthening on and on in prolonged vista, the whole lighted by a +line of gas lamps, and as bright, almost, as if it were broad day. +It was more like one of the long avenues of light that lead to the +abodes of the genii in fairy tales, than anything I had ever +beheld. The profound stillness of the place, which was first broken +by my father's voice, to which the vaulted roof gave extraordinary +and startling volume of tone, the indescribable feeling of +subterranean vastness, the amazement and delight I experienced, +quite overcame me, and I was obliged to turn from the friend who +was explaining everything to me, to cry and ponder in silence. How +I wish you had been with us, dear H——! Our name is always worth +something to us: Mr. Brunel, who was superintending some of the +works, came to my father and offered to conduct us to where the +workmen were employed—an unusual favor, which of course delighted +us all. So we left our broad, smooth path of light, and got into +dark passages, where we stumbled among coils of ropes and heaps of +pipes and piles of planks, and where ground springs were welling up +and flowing about in every direction, all which was very strange. +As you may have heard, the tunnel caved in once, and let the Thames +in through the roof; and in order that, should such an accident +occur again, no lives may be lost, an iron frame has been +constructed—a sort of cage, divided into many compartments, in +each of which a man with his lantern and his tools is placed—and +as they clear the earth away this iron frame is moved onward and +advances into new ground. All this was wonderful and curious beyond +measure, but the appearance of the workmen themselves, all +begrimed, with their brawny arms and legs bare, some standing in +black water up to their knees, others laboriously shovelling the +black earth in their cages (while they sturdily sung at their +task), with the red, murky light of links and lanterns flashing and +flickering about them, made up the most striking picture you can +conceive. As we returned I remained at the bottom of the stairs +last of all, to look back at the beautiful road to Hades, wishing I +might be left behind, and then we reascended, through wheels, +pulleys, and engines, to the upper day. After this we rowed down +the river to the docks, lunched on board a splendid East Indiaman, +and came home again. I think it is better for me, however, to look +at the trees, and the sun, moon, and stars, than at tunnels and +docks; they make me too <i>humanity proud</i>.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122" ></a><span class="pagenum">[122]</span>I am reading "Vivian Grey." Have you read it? It is very clever.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Ever your most affectionate</p><p class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Fanny</span>. +</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">16 St. James Street, Buckingham Gate</span>, January, 1828.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I jumped, in despite of a horrid headache, when I saw your letter. +Indeed, if you knew how the sight of your handwriting delights me, +you would not talk of lack of matter; for what have I to tell you +of more interest for you, than the health and proceedings of those +you love must be to me?</p> + +<p>Dear John is come home with his trophy. He is really a highly +gifted creature; but I sometimes fear that the passionate eagerness +with which he <i>pursues his pursuit</i>, the sort of frenzy he has +about politics, and his constant excitement about political +questions, may actually injure his health, and the vehemence with +which he speaks and writes in support of his peculiar views will +perhaps endanger his future prospects.</p> + +<p>He is neither tory nor whig, but a radical, a utilitarian, an +adorer of Bentham, a worshiper of Mill, an advocate for vote by +ballot, an opponent of hereditary aristocracy, the church +establishment, the army and navy, which he deems sources of +unnecessary national expense; though who is to take care of our +souls and bodies, if the three last-named institutions are done +away with, I do not quite see. Morning, noon, and night he is +writing whole volumes of arguments against them, full of a good +deal of careful study and reading, and in a close, concise, +forcible style, which is excellent in itself, and the essays are +creditable to his laborious industry; but they will not teach him +mathematics, or give him a scholarship or his degree. That he will +distinguish himself hereafter I have no doubt; but at present he is +engrossed by a passion (for it seems to me nothing less) which +occupies his mind and time, to the detriment, if not the exclusion, +of all other studies.</p> + +<p>I feel almost ashamed of saying anything about myself, after the +two or three scoldings you have sent me of late. Perhaps while my +blue devils found vent in ridiculous verses, they did not much +matter; but their having prompted me lately to throw between seven +and eight hundred pages (about a year's work) into the fire, seems +to me now rather deplorable. You perhaps will say that the fire is +no bad place for seven or eight hundred pages of my manuscript; but +I had spent time and pains on them, and I <a name="Page_123" id="Page_123" ></a><span class="pagenum">[123]</span>think they should not +have been thrown away in a foolish fit of despondency. I am at +present not very well. I do not mean that I have any specific +illness, but headaches and side-aches, so that I am one moment in a +state of feverish excitement and the next nervous and low-spirited; +this is not a good account, but a true one.</p> + +<p>I have no "new friends," dearest H——; perhaps because my dislike +to society makes me stupid and disagreeable when I am in it. I have +made one acquaintance, which might perhaps grow to a friendship +were it not that distance and its attendant inconveniences have +hitherto prevented my becoming more intimate with the lady I refer +to. She is a married woman; her name is Jameson. She is an +Irishwoman, and the authoress of the "Diary of an Ennuyée." I like +her very much; she is extremely clever; I wish I knew her better. I +have been to one dance and one or two dinners lately, but to tell +you the truth, dear H——, the old people naturally treat me after +my years, as a young person, and the young people (perhaps from my +self-conceit) seem to me stupid and uninteresting, and so, you see, +I do not like society. Cecilia Siddons is out of town at present, +and I have not seen her for some time. You may have heard that the +theatre has gained a lawsuit against Sinclair, the celebrated +singer, by a reversal of the former verdict in the case. We were +not even aware that such a process was going on, and when my father +came home and said, "We have won our cause," my mother and myself +started up, supposing he meant <i>the</i> chancery suit. That, +unfortunately, is still pending, pending, like the sword of +Damocles, over our heads, banishing all security for the present or +hope for the future. The theatre is, I believe, doing very well +just now, and we go pretty often to the play, which I like. I have +lately been seeing my father playing Falstaff several times, and I +think it is an excellent piece of acting; he gives all the humor +without too much coarseness, or <i>charging</i>, and through the whole, +according to the fat knight's own expression, he is "Sir John to +all the world," with a certain courtly deportment which prevents +him from degenerating into the mere gross buffoon. They are in sad +want of a woman at both the theatres. I've half a mind to give +Covent Garden one. Don't be surprised. I have something to say to +you on this subject, but have not room for it in this letter. My +father is just now acting in the north of England. We expect him +back in a fortnight. God bless you, dear H——.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Yours ever,</p><p class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Fanny</span>. +</p></div> + +<p><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124" ></a><span class="pagenum">[124]</span>The vehement passion of political interest which absorbed my brother at +this time was in truth affecting the whole of English society almost as +passionately. In a letter written in 1827, the Duke of Wellington, after +speaking of the strong partisan sentiment which was agitating the +country, added, "The ladies and all the youth are with us;" that is, +with the Tory party, which, under his leadership, was still an active +power of obstruction to the imminent changes to which both he and his +party were presently to succumb. His ministry was a period of the +stormiest excitement in the political world, and the importance of the +questions at issue—Catholic emancipation and parliamentary +reform—powerfully affected men's minds in the ranks of life least +allied to the governing class. Even in a home so obscure and so devoted +to other pursuits and interests as ours, the spirit of the times made +its way, and our own peculiar occupations became less interesting to us +than the intense national importance of the public questions which were +beginning to convulse the country from end to end. About this time I met +with a book which produced a great and not altogether favorable effect +upon my mind (the blame resting entirely with me, I think, and not with +what I read). I had become moody and fantastical for want of solid +wholesome mental occupation, and the excess of imaginative stimulus in +my life, and was possessed with a wild desire for an existence of lonely +independence, which seemed to my exaggerated notions the only one fitted +to the intellectual development in which alone I conceived happiness to +consist. Mrs. Jameson's "Diary of an Ennuyée," which I now read for the +first time, added to this desire for isolation and independence such a +passionate longing to go to Italy, that my brain was literally filled +with chimerical projects of settling in the south of Europe, and there +leading a solitary life of literary labor, which, together with the fame +I hoped to achieve by it, seemed to me the only worthy purpose of +existence. While under the immediate spell of her fascinating book, it +was of course very delightful to me to make Mrs. Jameson's acquaintance, +which I did at the house of our friends, Mr. and Mrs. Basil Montagu. +They were the friends of Coleridge, Hazlitt, Charles Lamb, Proctor +(Barry Cornwall, who married Mrs. Montagu's daughter), and were +themselves individually as remarkable, if not as celebrated, as many of +their more famous friends. Basil Montagu was the son of the Earl of +Sandwich and the beautiful Miss Wray, whose German lover murdered her at +the theatre by shooting her in her private box, and then blew his own +brains out. Mr. Montagu inherited ability, <a name="Page_125" id="Page_125" ></a><span class="pagenum">[125]</span>eccentricity, and personal +beauty, from his parents. His only literary productions that I am +acquainted with were a notice of Bacon and his works, which he published +in a small pamphlet volume, and another volume of extracts from some of +the fine prose writers of the seventeenth century. I have a general +impression that his personal intercourse gave a far better idea of his +intellectual ability than anything that he achieved either in his +profession or in letters.</p> + +<p>His conversation was extremely vivid and sparkling, and the quaint +eccentricity of his manner added to the impression of originality which +he produced upon one. Very unlike the common run of people as he was, +however, he was far less so than his wife, who certainly was one of the +most striking and remarkable persons I have known. Her appearance was +extraordinary: she was much above middle height, with a beautiful figure +and face, the outline of which was of classical purity and severity, +while her whole carriage and appearance was dignified and majestic to +the highest degree. I knew her for upwards of thirty years, and never +saw her depart from a peculiar style of dress, which she had adopted +with the finest instinct of what was personally becoming as well as +graceful and beautiful in itself. She was so superior in this point to +her sex generally, that, having found that which was undoubtedly her own +proper individual costume, she never changed the fashion of it. Her +dress deserved to be called (what all dress should be) a lesser fine +art, and seemed the proper expression in clothes of her personality, and +really a part of herself. It was a long, open robe, over an underskirt +of the same material and color (always moonlight silver gray, amethyst +purple, or black silk or satin of the richest quality), trimmed with +broad velvet facings of the same color, the sleeves plain and tight +fitting from shoulder to wrist, and the bosom covered with a fine lace +half-body, which came, like the wimple of old mediæval portraits, up +round her throat, and seemed to belong in material and fashion to the +clear chin-stay which followed the noble contour of her face, and the +picturesque cap which covered, without concealing, her auburn hair and +the beautiful proportions of her exquisite head.</p> + +<p>This lady knew no language but her own, and to that ignorance (which one +is tempted in these days occasionally to think desirable) she probably +owed the remarkable power and purity with which she used her mother +tongue. Her conversation and her letters were perfect models of spoken +and written English. Her marriage with Mr. Montagu was attended with +some singu<a name="Page_126" id="Page_126" ></a><span class="pagenum">[126]</span>lar circumstances, the knowledge of which I owe to herself. +She was a Yorkshire widow lady, and came with her only child (a little +girl) to visit some friends in London, with whom Basil Montagu was +intimate. Mrs. S—— had probably occasionally been the subject of +conversation between him and her hosts, when they were expecting her; +for one evening soon after her arrival, as she was sitting partly +concealed by one of the curtains in the drawing-room, Basil Montagu came +rapidly into the room, exclaiming (evidently not perceiving her), "Come, +where is your wonderful Mrs. S——? I want to see her." During the whole +evening he engrossed her attention and talked to her, and the next +morning at breakfast she laughingly complained to her hosts that he had +not been content with that, but had tormented her in dreams all night. +"For," said she, "I dreamt I was going to be married to him, and the day +before the wedding he came to me with a couple of boxes, and said +solemnly, 'My dear Anne, I want to confide these relics to your keeping; +in this casket are contained the bones of my dear first wife, and in +this those of my dear second wife; do me the favor to take charge of +them for me.'" The odd circumstance was that Basil Montagu had been +married twice, and that when he made his third matrimonial venture, and +was accepted by Mrs. S——, he appeared before her one day, and with +much solemnity begged her to take charge of two caskets, in which were +respectively treasured, not the bones, but the letters of her two +predecessors. It is quite possible that he might have heard of her dream +on the first night of their acquaintance, and amused himself with +carrying it out when he was about to marry her; but when Mrs. Montagu +told me the story I do not think she suggested any such rationalistic +solution of the mystery. Her daughter, Anne S—— (afterwards Mrs. +Procter), who has been all my life a kind and excellent friend to me, +inherited her remarkable mother's mental gifts and special mastery over +her own language; but she added to these, as part of her own +individuality, a power of sarcasm that made the tongue she spoke in and +the tongue she spoke with two of the most formidable weapons any woman +was ever armed with. She was an exceedingly kind-hearted person, +perpetually occupied in good offices to the poor, the afflicted, her +friends, and all whom she could in any way serve; nevertheless, such was +her severity of speech, not unfrequently exercised on those she appeared +to like best, that Thackeray, Browning, and Kinglake, who were all her +friendly intimates, sometimes designated her as "Our Lady of +Bitterness," and she is alluded to by that title in the opening <a name="Page_127" id="Page_127" ></a><span class="pagenum">[127]</span>chapter +of "Eothen." A daily volume of wit and wisdom might have been gathered +from her familiar talk, which was <i>crisp</i>, with suggestions of thought +in the liveliest and highest form. Somebody asking her how she and a +certain acrid critic of her acquaintance got on together, she replied, +"Oh, very well; we sharpen each other like two knives." Being +congratulated on the restoration of cordiality between herself and a +friend with whom she had had some difference, "Oh yes," said she, "the +cracked cup is mended, but it will never hold water again." Both these +ladies, mother and daughter, had a most extraordinary habit of crediting +their friends with their own wise and witty sayings; thus Mrs. Montagu +and Mrs. Procter would say, "Ah yes, you know, as you once said," and +then would follow something so sparkling, profound, concise, incisive, +and brilliant, that you remained, eyes and mouth open, gasping in +speechless astonishment at the merit of the saying you never said (and +couldn't have said if your life had depended on it), and the +magnificence of the gift its author was making you. The princes in the +Arabian Nights, who only gave you a ring worth thousands of sequins, +were shabby fellows compared with these ladies, who declared that the +diamonds and rubies of their own uttering had fallen from your lips. +Persons who lay claim to the good things of others are not rare; those +who do not only disclaim their own, but even credit others with them, +are among the very rarest. In all my intercourse with the inhabitants of +<i>two</i> worlds, I have known no similar instance of self-denial; and +reflecting upon it, I have finally concluded that it was too superhuman +to be a real virtue, and could proceed only from an exorbitant +superabundance of natural gift, which made its possessors reckless, +extravagant, and even unprincipled in the use of their wealth; they had +wit enough for themselves, and to spare for all their friends, and these +were many.</p> + +<p>At an evening party at Mrs. Montagu's, in Bedford Square, in 1828, I +first saw Mrs. Jameson. The Ennuyée, one is given to understand, dies; +and it was a little vexatious to behold her sitting on a sofa, in a very +becoming state of blooming <i>plumptitude</i>; but it was some compensation +to be introduced to her. And so began a close and friendly intimacy, +which lasted for many years, between myself and this very accomplished +woman. She was the daughter of an Irish miniature-painter of the name of +Murphy, and began life as a governess, in which capacity she educated +the daughters of Lord H——, and went to Italy with the family of Mrs. +R——. When I first knew her she had not <a name="Page_128" id="Page_128" ></a><span class="pagenum">[128]</span>long been married to Mr. Robert +Jameson, a union so ill-assorted that it restored Mrs. Jameson to the +bosom of her own family, to whom her conjugal ill-fortune proved a +blessing, for never did daughter and sister discharge with more loving +fidelity the duties of those relationships. Her life was devoted to her +parents while they lived, and after their death to her sisters and a +young niece whom she adopted. Her various and numerous gifts and +acquirements were exercised, developed, and constantly increased by a +life of the most indefatigable literary study, research, and labor. Her +reading was very extensive; her information, without being profound, was +general; she was an excellent modern linguist, and perfectly well versed +in the literature of her own country and of France, Germany, and Italy. +She had an uncommon taste and talent for art, and as she added to her +knowledge of the theory and history of painting familiar acquaintance +with most of the fine public and private galleries in Europe, a keen +sensibility to beauty, and considerable critical judgment, her works +upon painting, and especially the exceedingly interesting volumes she +published on the "Sacred and Legendary Art of the Romish Church," are at +once delightful and interesting sources of information, and useful and +accurate works of reference, to which considerable value is added by her +own spirited and graceful etchings.</p> + +<p>The literary works of hers in which I have a direct personal interest, +are a charming book of essays on Shakespeare's female characters, +entitled "Characteristics of Women," which she did me the honor to +dedicate to me; some pages of letterpress written to accompany a series +of sketches John Hayter made of me in the character of Juliet; and a +notice of my sister's principal operatic performances after she came out +on the stage. Mrs. Jameson at one time contemplated writing a life of my +aunt Siddons, not thinking Boaden's biography of her satisfactory; in +this purpose, however, she was effectually opposed by Campbell, who had +undertaken the work, and, though he exhibited neither interest nor zeal +in the fulfillment of his task, doggedly (in the manger) refused to +relinquish it to her. Certainly, had Mrs. Jameson carried out her +intention, Mrs. Siddons would have had a monument dedicated to her +memory better calculated to preserve it than those which the above-named +gentlemen bestowed on her. It would have been written in a spirit of far +higher artistic discrimination, and with infinitely more sympathy both +with the woman and with the actress.</p> + + + +<hr /><p><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129" ></a><span class="pagenum">[129]</span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + + +<p>Late in middle life Mrs. Jameson formed an intimate acquaintance, which +at one time assumed the character of a close friendship, with Lady +Byron, under the influence of whose remarkable mind and character the +subjects of artistic and literary interest, which had till then absorbed +Mrs. Jameson's attention and occupied her pen, gave place to others of a +very different kind—those which engrossed for a time, to the exclusion +of almost all others, the minds of men and women in England at the +beginning of the Crimean War; when the fashion of certain forms of +philanthropy set by that wonderful woman, Florence Nightingale, was +making hospital nurses of idle, frivolous fine ladies, and turning into +innumerable channels of newly awakened benevolence and activity—far +more zealous than discreet—the love of adventure, the desire for +excitement, and the desperate need of occupation, of many women who had +no other qualifications for the hard and holy labors into which they +flung themselves.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jameson felt the impulse of the time, as it reached her through +Lady Byron and Miss Nightingale, and warmly embraced the wider and more +enlightened aspect of women's duties beginning to be advocated with +extreme enthusiasm in English society. One of the last books she +published was a popular account of foreign Sisters of Mercy, their +special duties, the organization of their societies, and the sphere of +their operations; suggesting the formation of similar bodies of +religiously charitable sisterhoods in England. She had this subject so +much at heart, she told me, that she had determined to give a series of +public lectures upon it, provided she found her physical power equal to +the effort of making herself heard by an audience in any public room of +moderate size. She tested the strength of her chest and voice by +delivering one lecture to an audience assembled in the drawing-rooms of +a friend; but, as she never repeated the experiment, I suppose she found +the exertion too great for her.</p> + +<p>When first I met Mrs. Jameson she was an attractive-looking young woman, +with a skin of that dazzling whiteness which generally accompanies +reddish hair, such as hers was; her face, which was habitually refined +and <i>spirituelle</i> in its expression, was capable of a marvelous power of +concentrated feeling, such as is seldom seen on any woman's face, and is +peculiarly rare <a name="Page_130" id="Page_130" ></a><span class="pagenum">[130]</span>on the countenance of a fair, small, delicately featured +woman, all whose personal characteristics were essentially feminine. Her +figure was extremely pretty; her hands and arms might have been those of +Madame de Warens.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jameson told me that the idea of giving public lectures had +suggested itself to her in the course of her conversations with Lady +Byron upon the possible careers that might be opened to women. I know +Lady Byron thought a very valuable public service might be rendered by +women who so undertook to advocate important truths of which they had +made special study, and for the dissemination of which in this manner +they might be especially gifted. She accepted in the most liberal manner +the claim put forward by women to more extended spheres of usefulness, +and to the adoption of careers hitherto closed to them; she was deeply +interested, personally, in some who made the arduous attempt of studying +and practicing medicine, and seemed generally to think that there were +many directions in which women might follow paths yet unopened, of high +and noble exertion, and hereafter do society and the cause of progress +good service.</p> + +<p>Lady Byron was a peculiarly reserved and quiet person, with a manner +habitually deliberate and measured, a low, subdued voice, and rather +diffident hesitation in expressing herself: and she certainly conveyed +the impression of natural reticence and caution. But so far from ever +appearing to me to justify the description often given of her, of a +person of exceptionally cold, hard, measured intellect and character, +she always struck me as a woman capable of profound and fervid +enthusiasm, with a mind of rather a romantic and visionary order.</p> + +<p>She surprised me extremely one evening as she was accompanying me to one +of my public readings, by exclaiming, "Oh, how I envy you! What would I +not give to be in your place!" As my vocation, I am sorry to say, +oftener appeared to me to justify my own regret than the envy of others, +I answered, "What! to read Shakespeare before some hundreds of people?" +"Oh no," she said; "not to read Shakespeare to them, but to have all +that mass of people under your control, subject to your influence, and +receiving your impressions." She then went on to say she would give +anything to lecture upon subjects which interested her deeply, and that +she should like to advocate with every power she possessed. Lady Byron, +like most enthusiasts, was fond of influencing others and making +disciples to her own views. I made her laugh by telling her that more +than once, when looking from my reading-<a name="Page_131" id="Page_131" ></a><span class="pagenum">[131]</span>desk over the sea of faces +uplifted towards me, a sudden feeling had seized me that I must say +something <i>from myself</i> to all those human beings whose attention I felt +at that moment entirely at my command, and between whom and myself a +sense of sympathy thrilled powerfully and strangely through my heart, as +I looked steadfastly at them before opening my lips; but that, on +wondering afterwards <i>what</i> I might, could, would, or should have said +to them from myself, I never could think of anything but two words: "Be +good!" which as a preface to the reading of one of Shakespeare's plays +("The Merry Wives of Windsor," for instance) might have startled them. +Often and strongly as the temptation recurred to me, I never could think +of anything better worth saying to my audience. I have some hope that +sometimes in the course of the reading I said it effectually, without +shocking them by a departure from my proper calling, or deserving the +rebuke of "Ne sutor ultra crepidam."</p> + +<p>In February, 1828, I fell ill of the measles, of which the following +note to Miss S—— is a record.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="salutation"><span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>,</p> + +<p>I am in a great hurry, because my parcel is not made up yet, and I +expect your brother's emissary to call at every moment. I send you +my play, also an album of mine, also an unfinished sketch of me, +also a copy of my will. The play you must not keep, because it is +my only copy; neither must you keep my album, because I want to +finish one of the pieces of verse begun in it; my picture—such as +it is—begun, but never finished, by Dick ——, I thought you would +like better than nothing. He has finished one that is a very good +likeness of me, but it was done for my mother, or I should have +wished you to have it. My will I made last week, while I was in bed +with the measles, and want you to keep that.</p> + +<p>I have been very ill for the last fortnight, but am well again now. +I am pressed for time to-day, but will soon write to you in +earnest.</p> + +<p>I'm afraid you'll find my play very long; when my poor father began +cutting it, he looked ruefully at it, and said, "There's plenty of +it, Fan," to which my reply is Madame de Sévigné's, "Si j'eusse eu +plus de temps, je ne t'aurais pas écrit si longuement." Dear H——, +if you knew how I thought of you, and the fresh, sweet mayflowers +with which we filled our baskets at Heath Farm, while I lay parched +and full of pain and fever in my illness!</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Yours ever,</p><p class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Fanny</span>. +</p></div> + +<p><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132" ></a><span class="pagenum">[132]</span>My beloved aunt Dall nursed and tended me in my sickness with unwearied +devotion; and one day when I was convalescent, finding me depressed in +spirits and crying, she said laughingly to me, "Why, child, there is +nothing the matter with you; but you are weak in body and mind." This +seemed to me the most degraded of all conceivable conditions, and I fell +into a redoublement of weeping over my own abasement and imbecility.</p> + +<p>My attention was suddenly attracted to a large looking-glass opposite my +bed, and it occurred to me that in my then condition of nerves nothing +was more likely than that I should turn visionary and fancy I beheld +apparitions. And under this conviction I got up and covered the glass, +in which I felt sure I should presently "see sic sights as I daured na +tell." I speak of this because, though I was in a physical condition not +unlikely to produce such phenomena, I retained the power of perceiving +that they would be the result of my physical condition, and that I +should in some measure be accessory to my own terror, whatever form it +might assume.</p> + +<p>I have so often in my life been on the very edge of ghost-seeing, and +felt so perfectly certain that the least encouragement on my part would +set them before me, and that nothing but a resolute effort of will would +save me from such a visitation, that I have become convinced that of the +people who have seen apparitions, one half have—as I should term +it—chosen to do so. I have all my life suffered from a tendency to +imaginary terrors, and have always felt sure that a determined exercise +of self-control would effectually keep them from having the dominion +over me. The most distressing form of nervous excitement that I have +ever experienced was one that for many years I was very liable to, and +which always recurred when I was in a state of unusual exaltation or +depression of spirits; both which states in me were either directly +caused or greatly aggravated by certain electrical conditions of the +atmosphere, which seemed to affect my whole nervous system as if I had +been some machine expressly constructed for showing and testing the +power of such influences on the human economy.</p> + +<p>I habitually read while combing and brushing my hair at night, and +though I made no use of my looking-glass while thus employed, having my +eyes fixed on my book, I sat (for purposes of general convenience) at my +toilet table in front of the mirror. While engrossed in my book it has +frequently happened to me accidentally to raise my eyes and suddenly to +fix them on my own image in the glass, when a feeling of startled +<a name="Page_133" id="Page_133" ></a><span class="pagenum">[133]</span>surprise, as if I had not known I was there and did not immediately +recognize my own reflection, would cause me to remain looking at myself, +the intentness with which I did so increasing as the face appeared to me +not my own; and under this curious fascination my countenance has +altered, becoming gradually so dreadful, so much more dreadful in +expression than any human face I ever saw or could describe, while it +was next to impossible for me to turn my eyes away from the hideous +vision confronting me, that I have felt more than once that unless by +the strongest effort of will I immediately averted my head, I should +certainly become insane. Of course I was myself a party to this strange +fascination of terror, and must, no doubt, have exercised some power of +volition in the assumption of the expression that my face gradually +presented, and which was in no sense a distortion or grimace, but a +terrible look suggestive of despair and desperate wickedness, the memory +of which even now affects me painfully. But though in some measure +voluntary, I do not think I was conscious at the time that the process +was so; and I have never been able to determine the precise nature of +this nervous affection, which, beginning thus in a startled feeling of +sudden surprise, went on to such a climax of fascinated terror.</p> + +<p>I was already at this time familiar enough with the theory of ghosts, of +which one need not be afraid, through Nicolai of Berlin's interesting +work upon the curious phantasmagoria of apparitions, on which he made +and recorded so many singular observations. Moreover, my mother, from a +combination of general derangement of the system and special affection +of the visual nerves, was at one time constantly tormented by whole +processions and crowds of visionary figures, of the origin and nature of +which she was perfectly aware, but which she often described as +exceedingly annoying by their grotesque and distorted appearance, and +wearisome from their continual recurrence and thronging succession. With +the recovery of her general health she obtained a release from this +disagreeable haunting.</p> + +<p>One of the most remarkable and painful instances of affection of the +visual organs in consequence of a violent nervous shock was that +experienced by my friend Miss T——, who, after seeing her cousin, Lady +L——, drowned while bathing off the rocks at her home at Ardgillan, was +requested by Lord L—— to procure for him, before his wife's burial, +the wedding ring from her finger. The poor lady's body was terribly +swollen and discolored, and Miss T—— had to use considerable effort to +<a name="Page_134" id="Page_134" ></a><span class="pagenum">[134]</span>withdraw the ring from the dead finger. The effect of the whole +disastrous event upon her was to leave her for several months afflicted +with an affection of the eyes, which represented half of the face of +every person she saw with the swollen, livid, and distorted features of +her drowned cousin; a horrible and ghastly result of the nervous shock +she had undergone, which she feared she should never be delivered from, +but which gradually wore itself out.</p> + +<p>The only time I ever saw an apparition was under singularly unfavorable +circumstances for such an experience. I was sitting at midday in an +American railroad car, which every occupant but my maid and myself had +left to go and get some refreshment at the station, where the train +stopped some time for that purpose. I was sitting with my maid in a +small private compartment, sometimes occupied by ladies travelling +alone, the door of which (wide open at the time) communicated with the +main carriage, and commanded its entire length. Suddenly a person +entered the carriage by a door close to where I sat, and passed down the +whole length of the car. I sprang from my seat, exclaiming aloud, "There +is C——!" and rushed to the door before, by any human possibility, any +one could have reached the other end of the car; but nobody was to be +seen. My maid had seen nothing. The person I imagined I had seen was +upwards of two hundred miles distant; but what was to me the most +curious part of this experience was that had I really met the person I +saw anywhere, my most careful endeavor would have been to avoid her, +and, if possible, to escape being seen by her; whereas this apparition, +or imagination, so affected my nerves that I rushed after it as if +desirous of pursuing and overtaking it, while my deliberate desire with +regard to the image I thus sprang towards would have been never to have +seen it again as long as I lived. The state of the atmosphere at the +time of this occurrence was extraordinarily oppressive, and charged with +a tremendous thunder-storm, a condition of the air which, as I have +said, always acts with extremely distressing and disturbing influence +upon my whole physical system.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">St. James Street, Buckingham Gate, February, 1828.</span></p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I have this instant received your letter, and, contrary to John's +wise rule of never answering an epistle till three days after he +receives it, I sit down to write, to talk, to be with you. <a name="Page_135" id="Page_135" ></a><span class="pagenum">[135]</span>Pray, +when your potatoes flourish, your fires are put out by the sun, and +your hills are half hid in warm mist, wish one hearty wish for me, +such as I spend by the dozen on you. I confess I am disappointed, +as far as I can be with a letter of yours, at finding you had not +yet received my parcel, for my vanity has been in considerable +anxiety respecting your judgment on my production. Now that the +effervescence of my poetical <i>furor</i> has subsided, and that +repeated perusals have taken a little of the charm of novelty from +my play, my own opinion of it is that it is a clever performance +<i>for so young a person</i>, but nothing more. The next will, I hope, +be better, and I think you will agree with me in regard to this. +Dearest H——, in my last letter want of time and room prevented my +enlarging on my hint about the stage, but as far as my own +determination goes at present, I think it is the course that I +shall most likely pursue. You know that independence of mind and +body seems to me the great desideratum of life; I am not patient of +restraint or submissive to authority, and my head and heart are +engrossed with the idea of exercising and developing the literary +talent which I think I possess. This is meat, drink, and sleep to +me; my world, in which I live, and have my happiness; and, +moreover, I hope, by means of fame (the prize for which I pray). To +a certain degree it may be my means of procuring benefits of a more +substantial nature, which I am by no means inclined to estimate at +less than their worth. I do not think I am fit to marry, to make an +obedient wife or affectionate mother; my imagination is paramount +with me, and would disqualify me, I think, for the every-day, +matter-of-fact cares and duties of the mistress of a household and +the head of a family. I think I should be unhappy and the cause of +unhappiness to others if I were to marry. I cannot swear I shall +never fall in love, but if I do I will fall out of it again, for I +do not think I shall ever so far lose sight of my best interest and +happiness as to enter into a relation for which I feel so unfit. +Now, if I do not marry, what is to become of me in the event of +anything happening to my father? His property is almost all gone; I +doubt if we shall ever receive one pound from it. Is it likely +that, supposing I were willing to undergo the drudgery of writing +for my bread, I could live by my wits and the produce of my brain; +or is such an existence desirable?</p> + +<p>Perhaps I might attain to the literary dignity of being the lioness +of a season, asked to dinner parties "because I am so clever;" +perhaps my writing faculty might become a useful auxiliary to some +other less precarious dependence; but to <a name="Page_136" id="Page_136" ></a><span class="pagenum">[136]</span>write to eat—to live, in +short—that seems to me to earn hard money after a very hard +fashion. The stage is a profession that people who have a talent +for it make lucrative, and which honorable conduct may make +respectable; one which would place me at once beyond the fear of +want, and that is closely allied in its nature to my beloved +literary pursuits.</p> + +<p>If I should (as my father and mother seem to think not unlikely) +change my mind with respect to marrying, the stage need be no bar +to that, and if I continue to write, the stage might both help me +in and derive assistance from my exercise of the pursuit of +dramatic authorship. And the mere mechanical labor of writing costs +me so little, that the union of the two occupations does not seem +to me a difficulty. My father said the other day, "There is a fine +fortune to be made by any young woman, of even decent talent, on +the stage now." A fine fortune is a fine thing; to be sure, there +remains a rather material question to settle, that of "even decent +talent." A passion for all beautiful poetry I am sure you will +grant me; and you would perhaps be inclined to take my father and +mother's word for my dramatic capacity. I spoke to them earnestly +on this subject lately, and they both, with some reluctance, I +think, answered me, to my questions, that they thought, as far as +they could judge (and, unless partiality blinds them entirely, none +can be better judges), I might succeed. In some respects, no girl +intending herself for this profession can have had better +opportunities of acquiring just notions on the subject of acting. I +have constantly heard refined and thoughtful criticism on our +greatest dramatic works, and on every various way of rendering them +effective on the stage. I have been lately very frequently to the +theater, and seen and heard observingly, and exercised my own +judgment and critical faculty to the best of my ability, according +to these same canons of taste by which it has been formed. Nature +has certainly not been as favorable to me as might have been +wished, if I am to embrace a calling where personal beauty, if not +indispensable, is so great an advantage. But if the informing +spirit be mine, it shall go hard if, with a face and voice as +obedient to my emotions as mine are, I do not in some measure make +up for the want of good looks. My father is now proprietor and +manager of the theatre, and those certainly are favorable +circumstances for my entering on a career which is one of great +labor and some exposure, at the best, to a woman, and where a young +girl cannot be too prudent herself, nor her protectors too careful +of her. I hope I have not taken up this notion hastily, and <a name="Page_137" id="Page_137" ></a><span class="pagenum">[137]</span>I have +no fear of looking only on the bright side of the picture, for ours +is a house where that is very seldom seen.</p> + +<p>Good-by; God bless you! I shall be very anxious to hear from you; I +sent you a note with my play, telling you I had just got up from +the measles; but as my note has not reached you, I tell you so +again. I am quite well, however, now, and shall not give them to +you by signing myself</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Yours most affectionately,</p><p class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Fanny</span>. +</p> + +<p>P.S.—I forgot to answer your questions in telling you all this, +but I will do so methodically now. My side-ache is some disturbance +in my liver, evidently, and does not give way entirely either to +physic or exercise, as the slightest emotion, either pleasurable or +painful, immediately brings it on; my blue devils I pass over in +silence; such a liver and my kind of head are sure to breed them.</p> + +<p>Certainly I reverence Jeremy Bentham for his philanthropy, plain +powerful sense, and lucid forcible writing; but as for John's +politics, they are, as Beatrice tells the prince he is, "too costly +for every-day wear." His theories are so perfect that I think +imperfect men could never be brought to live under a scheme of +government of his devising.</p> + +<p>I think Mrs. Jameson would like you, and you her, if you met, but +my mind is running on something else than this. My father's income +is barely eight hundred a year. John's expenses, since he has been +at college, have been nearly three. Five hundred a year for such a +family as ours is very close and careful work, dear H——, and if +my going on the stage would nearly double that income, lessen my +dear father's anxieties for us all, and the quantity of work which +he latterly has often felt too much for him, and remove the many +privations which my dear mother cheerfully endures, as well as the +weight of her uncertainty about our future provision, would not +this be a "consummation devoutly to be wished"?</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">St. James Street, Buckingham Gate</span>, March, 1828.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I have been thinking what you have been thinking of my long +silence, about which, however, perhaps you have not been thinking +at all. What, you say in one of your last about my destroying your +letters troubles me a good deal, dearest H——. I really cannot +bear to think of it; why, those letters are one <a name="Page_138" id="Page_138" ></a><span class="pagenum">[138]</span>of my very few +precious possessions. When I am unhappy (as I sometimes am), I read +them over, and I feel strengthened and comforted; if it is your +<i>positive desire</i> that I should burn them, of course I must do it; +but if it is only a sort of "I think you had better" that you have +about it, I shall keep them, and you must be satisfied with one of +my old "I can't help it's." As for my own scrawls, I do <i>not</i> +desire that you should keep them. I write, as I speak, on the +impulse of the moment, and I should be sorry that the incoherent +and often contradictory thoughts that I pour forth daily should be +preserved against me by anybody.</p> + +<p>My father is now in Edinburgh. He has been absent from London about +a week. I had a conversation with him about the stage some time +before he went, in which he allowed that, should our miserably +uncertain circumstances finally settle unfavorably, the theatre +might be an honorable and advantageous resource for me; but that at +present he should be sorry to see me adopt that career. As he is +the best and kindest father and friend to us all, such a decision +on his part was conclusive, as you will easily believe; and I have +forborne all further allusion to the subject, although on some +accounts I regret being obliged to do so.</p> + +<p>I was delighted with your long letter of criticisms; I am grateful +to you for taking the trouble of telling me so minutely all you +thought about my play. For myself, although at the time I wrote it +I was rather puffed up and elated in spirit, and looked at it +naturally in far too favorable a light, I assure you I have long +since come to a much soberer frame of mind respecting it. I think +it is quite unfit for the stage, where the little poetical merit it +possesses would necessarily be lost; besides, its construction is +wholly undramatic. The only satisfaction I now take in it is +entirely one of hope; I am very young, and I cannot help feeling +that it offers some promise for the future, which I trust may be +fulfilled. Now even, already, I am sure I could do infinitely +better; nor will it be long, I think, before I try my strength +again. If you could see the multiplicity of subjects drawn up in my +book under the head of "projected works," how you would shake your +wise head, and perhaps your lean sides. I wish I could write a good +prose work, but that, I take it, is really difficult, as good, +concise, powerful, clear prose must be much less easy to write than +even tolerable poetry. I have been reading a quantity of German +plays (translations, of course, but literal ones), and I have been +reveling in that divine devildom, "Faust." Suppose it does <a name="Page_139" id="Page_139" ></a><span class="pagenum">[139]</span>send one +to bed with a side-ache, a headache, and a heartache, isn't it +worth while? Did you ever read Goethe's "Tasso"? Certainly he makes +the mad poet a mighty disagreeable person; but in describing him it +seemed to me as if Goethe was literally transcribing my thoughts +and feelings, my mind and being.</p> + +<p>Now, dearest H——, don't bear malice, and, because I have not +written for so long, wait still longer before you answer. My mother +has been in the country for a few days, and has returned with a +terrible cough and cold, with which pleasant maladies she finds the +house full here to welcome her, so that we all croak in unison most +harmoniously. I was at the Siddonses' the other evening. My aunt +was suffering, I am sorry to say, with one of her terrible +headaches; Cecilia was pretty well, but as it was a <i>soirée +chantante</i>, I had little opportunity of talking to either of them. +Did you mention my notion about going on the stage in any of your +letters to Cecy?</p> + +<p>The skies are brightening and the trees are budding; it will soon +be the time of year when we first met. Pray remember me when the +hawthorn blossoms; hail, snow, or sunshine, I remember you, and am +ever your affectionate</p> + +<p class="signature"><span class="smcap">Fanny</span>.</p></div> + +<p>The want of a settled place of residence compelled me, many years after +writing this letter, to destroy the letters of my friend, which I had +preserved until they amounted to many hundreds; my friend kept, in the +house that was her home from her fourteenth to her sixtieth year, all +mine to her—several thousands, the history of a whole human life—and +gave them back to me when she was upwards of seventy and I of sixty +years old; they are the principal aid to my memory in my present task of +retrospection.</p> + +<p>My life at home at this time became difficult and troublesome, and +unsatisfactory to myself and others; my mind and character were in a +chaotic state of fermentation that required the wisest, firmest, and +gentlest guidance. I was vehement and excitable, violently impulsive, +and with a wild, ill-regulated imagination.</p> + +<p>The sort of smattering acquirements from my schooling, and the desultory +reading which had been its only supplement, had done little or nothing +(perhaps even worse than nothing) towards my effectual moral or mental +training. A good fortune, for which I can never be sufficiently +thankful, occurred to me at this time, in the very intimate intercourse +which grew up <a name="Page_140" id="Page_140" ></a><span class="pagenum">[140]</span>just then between our family and that of my cousin, Mrs. +Henry Siddons.</p> + +<p>She had passed through London on her way to the Continent, whither she +was going for the sake of the health of her youngest daughter, an +interesting and attractive young girl some years older than myself, who +at this time seemed threatened with imminent consumption. She had a +sylph-like, slender figure, tall, and bending and wavering like a young +willow sapling, and a superabundant profusion of glossy chestnut +ringlets, which in another might have suggested vigor of health and +constitution, but always seemed to me as if their redundant masses had +exhausted hers, and were almost too great a weight for her slim throat +and drooping figure. Her complexion was transparently delicate, and she +had dark blue eyes that looked almost preternaturally large. It seems +strange to remember this ethereal vision of girlish fragile beauty as +belonging to my dear cousin, who, having fortunately escaped the doom by +which she then seemed threatened, lived to become a most happy and +excellent wife and mother, and one of the largest women of our family, +all of whose female members have been unusually slender in girlhood and +unusually stout in middle and old age. When Mrs. Henry Siddons was +obliged to return to Edinburgh, which was her home, she was persuaded by +my mother to leave her daughter with us for some time; and for more than +a year she and her elder sister and their brother, a lad studying at the +Indian Military College of Addiscombe, were frequent inmates of our +house. The latter was an extremely handsome youth, with a striking +resemblance to his grandmother, Mrs. Siddons; he and my brother Henry +were certainly the only two of the younger generation who honorably +maintained the reputation for beauty of their elders; in spite of which, +and the general admiration they excited (especially when seen together), +perhaps indeed from some uncomfortable consciousness of their personal +advantages, they were both of them shamefaced and bashful to an unusual +degree.</p> + +<p>I remember a comical instance of the shy <i>mauvaise honte</i>, peculiar to +Englishmen, which these two beautiful boys exhibited on the occasion of +a fancy ball, to which we were all invited, at the house of our friend, +Mrs. E. G——. To me, of course, my first fancy ball was an event of +unmixed delight, especially as my mother had provided for me a lovely +Anne Boleyn costume of white satin, point-lace, and white Roman pearls, +which raised my satisfaction to rapture. The two Harrys, however, far +from partaking of my ecstasy, protested, pouted, begged off, <a name="Page_141" id="Page_141" ></a><span class="pagenum">[141]</span>all but +broke into open rebellion at the idea of making what they called "guys" +and "chimney-sweeps" of themselves; and though the painful sense of any +singularity might have been mitigated by the very numerous company of +their fellow-fools assembled in the ball-room, to keep them in +countenance, and the very unpretending costume of simple and, elegant +black velvet in which my mother had attired them, as Hamlet and Laertes +(it must have been in their very earliest college days), they hid +themselves behind the ball-room door and never showed as much as their +noses or their toes, while I danced beatifically till daylight, and +would have danced on till noon.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Henry Siddons, in her last stay with us, obtained my mother's +consent that I should go to Edinburgh to pay her a visit, which began by +being of indeterminate length, and prolonged itself for a year—the +happiest of my life, as I often, while it lasted, thought it would +prove; and now that my years are over I know to have been so. To the +anxious, nervous, exciting, irritating tenor of my London life succeeded +the calm, equable, and all but imperceptible control of my dear friend, +whose influence over her children, the result of her wisdom in dealing +with them, no less than of their own amiable dispositions, was absolute. +In considering Mrs. Henry Siddons's character, when years had modified +its first impression upon my own, my estimate of it underwent, of +course, some inevitable alteration; but when I stayed with her in +Edinburgh I was at the idolatrous period of life, and never, certainly, +had an enthusiastic young girl worshiper a worthier or better idol.</p> + +<p>She was not regularly handsome, but of a sweet and most engaging +countenance; her figure was very pretty, her voice exquisite, and her +whole manner, air, and deportment graceful, attractive, and charming. +Men, women, and children not only loved her, but inevitably <i>fell in +love</i> with her, and the fascination which she exercised over every one +that came in contact with her invariably deepened into profound esteem +and confidence in those who had the good fortune to share her intimacy. +Her manner, which was the most gentle and winning imaginable, had in it +a touch of demure playfulness that was very charming, at the same time +that it habitually conveyed the idea of extreme self-control, and a +great reserve of moral force and determination underneath this quiet +surface.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Harry's manner was artificial, and my mother told me she thought it +the result of an early determination to curb the demonstrations of an +impetuous temper and passionate feelings. It had become her second +nature when I knew her, how<a name="Page_142" id="Page_142" ></a><span class="pagenum">[142]</span>ever, and contributed not a little to the +immense ascendency she soon acquired over my vehement and stormy +character. She charmed me into absolute submission to her will and +wishes, and I all but worshiped her.</p> + +<p>She was a Miss Murray, and came of good Scottish blood, her +great-grandfather having at one time been private secretary to the Young +Pretender. She married Mrs. Siddons's youngest son, Harry, the only one +of my aunt's children who adopted her own profession, and who, himself +an indifferent actor, undertook the management of the Edinburgh theater, +fell into ill-health, and died, leaving his lovely young widow with four +children to the care of her brother, William Murray, who succeeded him +in the government of the theater, of which his sister and himself became +joint proprietors.</p> + +<p>Edinburgh at that time was still the small but important capital of +Scotland, instead of what railroads and modern progress have reduced it +to, merely the largest town. Those were the days of the giants, Scott, +Wilson, Hogg, Jeffrey, Brougham, Sidney Smith, the Horners, Lord Murray, +Allison, and all the formidable intellectual phalanx that held mental +dominion over the English-speaking world, under the blue and yellow +standard of the <i>Edinburgh Review</i>.</p> + +<p>The ancient city had still its regular winter season of fashionable +gayety, during which sedan chairs were to be seen carrying through its +streets, to its evening assemblies, the more elderly members of the +<i>beau monde</i>. The nobility and gentry of Scotland came up from their +distant country residences to their town-houses in "Auld Reekie," as +they now come up to London.</p> + +<p>Edinburgh was a brilliant and peculiarly intellectual center of society +with a strongly marked national character, and the theater held a +distinguished place among its recreations; the many eminent literary and +professional men who then made the Scotch capital illustrious being +zealous patrons of the drama and frequenters of the play-house, and +proud, with reason, of their excellent theatrical company, at the head +of which was William Murray, one of the most perfect actors I have ever +known on any stage, and among whom Terry and Mackay, admirable actors +and cultivated, highly intelligent men, were conspicuous for their +ability.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Henry Siddons held a peculiar position in Edinburgh, her widowed +condition and personal attractions combining to win the sympathy and +admiration of its best society, while her high character and blameless +conduct secured the respect and esteem of her theatrical subjects and +the general public, with <a name="Page_143" id="Page_143" ></a><span class="pagenum">[143]</span>whom she was an object of almost affectionate +personal regard, and in whose favor, as long as she exercised her +profession, she continued to hold the first place, in spite of their +temporary enthusiasm for the great London stars who visited them at +stated seasons. "<i>Our</i> Mrs. Siddons," I have repeatedly heard her called +in Edinburgh, not at all with the slightest idea of comparing her with +her celebrated mother-in-law, but rather as expressing the kindly +personal good-will and the admiring approbation with which she was +regarded by her own townsfolk, who were equally proud and fond of her. +She was not a great actress, nor even what in my opinion could be called +a good actress, for she had no natural versatility or power of +assumption whatever, and what was opposed to her own nature and +character was altogether out of the range of her powers.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, when (as frequently happened) she had to embody +heroines whose characteristics coincided with her own, her grace and +beauty and innate sympathy with every thing good, true, pure, and +upright made her an admirable representative of all such characters. She +wanted physical power and weight for the great tragic drama of +Shakespeare, and passion for the heroine of his love tragedy; but Viola, +Rosalind, Isabel, Imogen, could have no better representative. In the +first part Sir Walter Scott has celebrated (in the novel of "Waverley") +the striking effect produced by her resemblance to her brother, William +Murray, in the last scene of "Twelfth Night;" and in many pieces founded +upon the fate and fortune of Mary Stuart she gave an unrivaled +impersonation of the "enchanting queen" of modern history.</p> + +<p>My admiration and affection for her were, as I have said, unbounded; and +some of the various methods I took to exhibit them were, I dare say, +intolerably absurd, though she was graciously good-natured in tolerating +them.</p> + +<p>Every day, summer and winter, I made it my business to provide her with +a sprig of myrtle for her sash at dinner-time; this, when she had worn +it all the evening, I received again on bidding her good night, and +stored in a <i>treasure</i> drawer, which, becoming in time choked with +fragrant myrtle leaves, was emptied with due solemnity into the fire, +that destruction in the most classic form might avert from them all +desecration. I ought by rights to have eaten their ashes, or drunk a +decoction of them, or at least treasured them in a golden urn, but +contented myself with watching them shrivel and crackle with much +sentimental satisfaction. I remember a most beautiful myrtle tree, +which, by favor of a peculiarly sunny and sheltered <a name="Page_144" id="Page_144" ></a><span class="pagenum">[144]</span>exposure, had +reached a very unusual size in the open air in Edinburgh, and in the +flowering season might have borne comparison with the finest shrubs of +the warm terraces of the under cliff of the Isle of Wight. From this I +procured my daily offering to my divinity.</p> + +<p>The myrtle is the least voluptuous of flowers; the legend of Juno's +myrtle-sheltered bath seems not unnaturally suggested by the vigorous, +fresh, and healthy beauty of the plant, and the purity of its snowy +blossoms. The exquisite quality, too, which myrtle possesses, of +preserving uncorrupted the water in which it is placed, with other +flowers, is a sort of moral attribute, which, combined with the peculiar +character of its fragrance, seems to me to distinguish this lovely shrub +from every other flower of the field or garden.</p> + +<p>To return to my worship of Mrs. Harry Siddons. On one occasion the sash +of her dress came unfastened and fell to the ground, and, having secured +possession of it, I retained my prize and persisted in wearing it, +baldric fashion, over every dress I put on. It was a silk scarf, of a +sober dark-gray color, and occasionally produced a most fantastical and +absurd contrast with what I was wearing.</p> + +<p>These were childish expressions of a feeling the soberer portion of +which remains with me even now, and makes the memory of that excellent +woman, and kind, judicious friend, still very dear to my grateful +affection. Not only was the change of discipline under which I now lived +advantageous, but the great freedom I enjoyed, and which would have been +quite impossible in London, was delightful to me; while the wonderful, +picturesque beauty of Edinburgh, contrasted with the repulsive dinginess +and ugliness of my native city, was a constant source of the liveliest +pleasure to me.</p> + +<p>The indescribable mixture of historic and romantic interest with all +this present, visible beauty, the powerful charm of the Scotch ballad +poetry, which now began to seize upon my imagination, and the +inexhaustible enchantment of the associations thrown by the great modern +magician over every spot made memorable by his mention, combined to +affect my mind and feelings at this most susceptible period of my life, +and made Edinburgh dear and delightful to me above all other places I +ever saw, as it still remains—with the one exception of Rome, whose +combined claim to veneration and admiration no earthly city can indeed +dispute.</p> + +<p>Beautiful Edinburgh! dear to me for all its beauty and all the happiness +that I have never failed to find there, for the <a name="Page_145" id="Page_145" ></a><span class="pagenum">[145]</span>keen delight of my year +of youthful life spent among its enchanting influences, and for the kind +friends and kindred whose affectionate hospitality has made each return +thither as happy as sadder and older years allowed—my blessing on every +stone of its streets!</p> + +<p>I had the utmost liberty allowed me in my walks about the city, and at +early morning have often run up and round and round the Calton Hill, +delighting, from every point where I stopped to breathe, in the noble +panorama on every side. Not unfrequently I walked down to the sands at +Porto Bello and got a sea bath, and returned before breakfast; while on +the other side of the town my rambles extended to Newhaven and the rocks +and sands of Cramond Beach.</p> + +<p>While Edinburgh had then more the social importance of a capital, it had +a much smaller extent; great portions of the present new town did not +then exist. Warriston and the Bridge of Dean were still out of town; +there was no Scott's monument in Princess Street, no railroad terminus +with its smoke and scream and steam scaring the echoes of the North +Bridge; no splendid Queen's Drive encircled Arthur's Seat. Windsor +Street, in which Mrs. Harry Siddons lived, was one of the most recently +finished, and broke off abruptly above gardens and bits of meadow land, +and small, irregular inclosures, and mean scattered houses, stretching +down toward Warriston Crescent; while from the balcony of the +drawing-room the eye, passing over all this untidy suburban district, +reached, without any intervening buildings, the blue waters of the Forth +and Inchkeith with its revolving light.</p> + +<p>Standing on that balcony late one cold, clear night, watching the rising +and setting of that sea star that kept me fascinated out in the chill +air, I saw for the first time the sky illuminated with the aurora +borealis. It was a magnificent display of the phenomenon, and I feel +certain that my attention was first attracted to it by the crackling +sound which appeared to accompany the motion of the pale flames as they +streamed across the sky; indeed, <i>crackling</i>, is not the word that +properly describes the sound I heard, which was precisely that made by +the <i>flickering</i> of blazing fire; and as I have often since read and +heard discussions upon the question whether the motion of the aurora is +or is not accompanied by an audible sound, I can only say that on this +occasion it was the sound that first induced me to observe the sheets of +white light that were leaping up the sky. At this time I knew nothing of +these phenomena, or the debates <a name="Page_146" id="Page_146" ></a><span class="pagenum">[146]</span>among scientific men to which they had +given rise, and can therefore trust the impression made on my senses.</p> + +<p>I have since then witnessed repeated appearances of these beautiful +meteoric lights, but have never again detected any sound accompanying +their motion. The finest aurora I ever saw was at Lenox, Massachusetts; +a splendid rose-colored pavilion appeared to be spread all over the sky, +through which, in several parts, the shining of the stars was distinctly +visible, while at the zenith the luminous drapery seemed gathered into +folds, the color of which deepened almost to crimson. It was wonderfully +beautiful. At Lenox, too, one night during the season of the appearance +of the great comet of 1858, the splendid flaming plume hovered over one +side of the sky, while all round the other horizon streams of white fire +appeared to rise from altars of white light. It was awfully glorious, +and beyond all description beautiful. The sky of that part of the United +States, particularly in the late autumn and winter, was more frequently +visited by magnificent meteors than any other with which I have been +acquainted.</p> + +<p>The extraordinary purity, dryness, and elasticity of the atmosphere in +that region was, I suppose, one cause of these heavenly shows; the clear +transparency of the sky by day often giving one the feeling that one was +looking straight into heaven without any intermediate window of +atmospheric air, while at night (especially in winter) the world of +stars, larger, brighter, more numerous than they ever seemed to me +elsewhere, and yet apparently infinitely higher and farther off, were +set in a depth of dark whose blackness appeared transparent rather than +opaque.</p> + +<p>Midnight after midnight I have stood, when the thermometer was twenty +and more degrees below freezing, looking over the silent, snow-smothered +hills round the small mountain village of Lenox, fast asleep in their +embrace, and from thence to the solemn sky rising above them like a huge +iron vault hung with thousands of glittering steel weapons, from which, +every now and then, a shining scimitar fell flashing earthward; it was a +cruel looking sky, in its relentless radiance.</p> + +<p>My solitary walks round Edinburgh have left two especial recollections +in my mind; the one pleasant, the other very sad. I will speak of the +latter first; it was like a leaf out of the middle of a tragedy, of +which I never knew either the beginning or the end.</p> + + + +<hr /><p><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147" ></a><span class="pagenum">[147]</span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<p>I was coming home one day from a tramp toward Cramond Beach, and was +just on the brow of a wooded height looking towards Edinburgh and not +two miles from it, when a heavy thunder-cloud darkened the sky above my +head and pelted me with large drops of ominous warning. On one side of +the road the iron gate and lodge of some gentleman's park suggested +shelter; and the half-open door of the latter showing a tidy, +pleasant-looking woman busy at an ironing table, I ventured to ask her +to let me come in till the sponge overhead should have emptied itself. +She very good-humoredly consented, and I sat down while the rain rang +merrily on the gravel walk before the door, and smoked in its vehement +descent on the carriage-road beyond.</p> + +<p>The woman pursued her work silently, and I presently became aware of a +little child, as silent as herself, sitting beyond her, in a small +wicker chair; on the baby's table which fastened her into it were some +remnants of shabby, broken toys, among which her tiny, wax-like fingers +played with listless unconsciousness, while her eyes were fixed on me. +The child looked wan and wasted, and had in its eyes, which it never +turned from me, the weary, wistful, unutterable look of "far away and +long ago" longing that comes into the miserably melancholy eyes of +monkeys.</p> + +<p>"Is the baby ill?" said I.</p> + +<p>"Ou na, mem; it's no to say that ill, only just always peaking and +pining like"—and she stopped ironing a moment to look at the little +creature.</p> + +<p>"Is it your own baby?" said I, struck with the absence of motherly +tenderness in spite of the woman's compassionate tone and expression.</p> + +<p>"Ou na, mem, it's no my ain; I hae nane o' my ain."</p> + +<p>"How old is it?" I went on.</p> + +<p>"Nigh upon five year old," was the answer, with which the ironing was +steadily resumed, with apparently no desire to encourage more questions.</p> + +<p>"Five years old!" I exclaimed, in horrified amazement: its size was that +of a rickety baby under three, while its wizened face was that of a +spell-struck creature of no assignable age, or the wax image of some +dwindling life wasting away before the witch-kindled fire of a +diabolical hatred. The tiny hands and <a name="Page_148" id="Page_148" ></a><span class="pagenum">[148]</span>arms were pitiably thin, and +showed under the yellow skin sharp little bones no larger than a +chicken's; and at her wrists and temples the blue tracery of her veins +looked like a delicate map of the blood, that seemed as if it could +hardly be pulsing through her feeble frame; while below the eyes a livid +shadow darkened the faded face that had no other color in it.</p> + +<p>The tears welled up into my eyes, and the woman, seeing them, suddenly +stopped ironing and exclaimed eagerly: "Ou, mem, ye ken the family; or +maybe ye'll hae been a friend of the puir thing's mither!" I was obliged +to say that I neither knew them nor any thing about them, but that the +child's piteous aspect had made me cry.</p> + +<p>In answer to the questions with which I then plied her, the woman, who +seemed herself affected by the impression I had received from the poor +little creature's appearance, told me that the child was that of the +only daughter of the people who owned the place; that there was +"something wrong" about it all, she did not know what—a marriage +ill-pleasing to the grandparents perhaps, perhaps even worse than that; +but the mother was dead, the family had been abroad for upward of three +years, and the child had been left under her charge. This was all she +told me, and probably all she knew; and as she ended she wiped the tears +from her own eyes, adding, "I'm thinking the puir bairn will no live +long itsel'."</p> + +<p>The rain was over and the sun shone, and I got up to go; as I went, the +child's dreary eyes followed me out at the door, and I cried all the way +home. Was it possible that my appearance suggested to that tiny soul the +image of its young lost mother?</p> + +<p>The other incident in my rambles that I wish to record was of a far +pleasanter sort. I had gone down to the pier at Newhaven, one blowy, +blustering day (the fine Granton Pier Hotel and landing-place did not +yet exist), and stood watching the waves taking their mad run and leap +over the end of the pier, in a glorious, foaming frenzy that kept me +fascinated with the fine uproar, till it suddenly occurred to me that it +would be delightful to be out among them (I certainly could have had no +recollections of sea-sickness), and I determined to try and get a boat +and go out on the frith.</p> + +<p>I stopped at a cottage on the outskirts of the fishing town (it was not +much more than a village then) of Newhaven, and knocked. Invited to come +in, I did so, and there sat a woman, one of the very handsomest I ever +saw, in solitary state, leisurely combing a magnificent curtain of fair +hair that fell over <a name="Page_149" id="Page_149" ></a><span class="pagenum">[149]</span>her ample shoulders and bosom and almost swept the +ground. She was seated on a low stool, but looked tall as well as large, +and her foam-fresh complexion and gray-green eyes might have become +Venus Anadyomene herself, turned into a Scotch fish-wife of five and +thirty, or "thereawa." "Can you tell me of any one who will take me out +in a boat for a little while?" quoth I. She looked steadily at me for a +minute, and then answered laconically, "Ay, my man and boy shall gang +wi' ye." A few lusty screams brought her husband and son forth, and at +her bidding they got a boat ready, and, with me well covered with +sail-cloths, tarpaulins, and rough dreadnaughts of one sort and another, +rowed out from the shore into the turmoil of the sea. A very little of +the dancing I got now was delight enough for me, and, deadly sick, I +besought to be taken home again, when the matronly Brinhilda at the +cottage received me with open-throated peals of laughter, and then made +me sit down till I had conquered my qualms and was able to walk back to +Edinburgh. Before I went, she showed me a heap of her children, too many, +it seemed to me, to be counted; but as they lay in an inextricable mass +on the floor in an inner room, there may have seemed more arms and legs +forming the radii, of which a clump of curly heads was the center, than +there really were.</p> + +<p>The husband was a comparatively small man, with dark eyes, hair, and +complexion; but her "boy," the eldest, who had come with him to take +care of me, was a fair-haired, fresh-faced young giant, of his mother's +strain, and, like her, looked as if he had come of the Northern Vikings, +or some of the Niebelungen Lied heroes.</p> + +<p>When I went away, my fish-wife bade me come again in smooth weather, and +if her husband and son were at home they should take me out; and I gave +her my address, and begged her, when she came up to town with her fish, +to call at the house.</p> + +<p>She was a splendid specimen of her tribe, climbing the steep Edinburgh +streets with bare white feet, the heavy fish-basket at her back hardly +stooping her broad shoulders, her florid face sheltered and softened in +spite of its massiveness into something like delicacy by the transparent +shadow of the white handkerchief tied hoodwise over her fair hair, and +her shrill sweet voice calling "Caller haddie!" all the way she went, in +the melancholy monotone that resounds through the thoroughfares of +Edinburgh—the only melodious street-cry (except the warning of the +Venetian gondoliers) that I ever heard.</p> + +<p>I often went back to visit my middle-aged Christie Johnstone, <a name="Page_150" id="Page_150" ></a><span class="pagenum">[150]</span>and more +than once saw her and her fellow fish-women haul up the boats on their +return after being out at sea. They all stood on the beach clamoring +like a flock of sea-gulls, and, as a boat's keel rasped the shingles, +rushed forward and seized it; and while the men in their sea clothes, +all dripping like huge Newfoundland dogs, jumped out in their heavy +boots and took each the way to their several houses, their stalwart +partners, hauling all together at the rope fastened to the boat, drew it +up beyond water-mark, and seized and sorted its freight of fish, and +stalked off each with her own basketful, with which she trudged up to +trade and chaffer with the "gude wives" of the town, and bring back to +the men the value of their work. It always seemed to me that these women +had about as equal a share of the labor of life as the most zealous +champion of the rights of their sex could desire.</p> + +<p>I did not indulge in any more boating expeditions, but admired the sea +from the pier, and became familiar with all the spokes of the +fish-wife's family wheel; at any rate, enough to distinguish Jamie from +Sandy, and Willie from Johnnie, and Maggie from Jeanie, and Ailsie from +Lizzie, and was great friends with them all.</p> + +<p>When I returned to Edinburgh, a theatrical star of the first magnitude, +I took a morning's holiday to drive down to Newhaven, in search of my +old ally, Mistress Sandie Flockhart. She no longer inhabited the little +detached cottage, and divers and sundry were the Flockhart "wives" that +I "speired at" through the unsavory street of Newhaven, before I found +the right one at last, on the third flat of a filthy house, where noise +and stench combined almost to knock me down, and where I could hardly +knock loud enough to make myself heard above the din within and without. +She opened the door of a room that looked as if it was running over with +live children, and confronted me with the unaltered aspect of her +comely, smiling face. But I had driven down from Edinburgh in all the +starlike splendor of a lilac silk dress and French crape bonnet, and my +dear fish-wife stared at me silently, with her mouth and gray eyes wide +open; only for a moment, however, for in the next she joyfully +exclaimed, "Ech, sirs! but it's yer ain sel come back again at last!" +Then seizing my hand, she added breathlessly, "I'se gotten anither ane, +and ye maun come in and see him;" so she dragged me bodily through and +over her surging progeny to a cradle, where, soothed by the strident +lullabies of its vociferating predecessors, her last-born and eleventh +baby lay peaceably slumbering, an infant Hercules.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151" ></a><span class="pagenum">[151]</span>Among Mrs. Harry Siddons's intimate friends and associates were the +remarkable brothers George and Andrew Combe; the former a lawyer by +profession, but known to the literary and scientific world of Europe and +America as the Apostle of Phrenology, and the author of a work entitled +"The Constitution of Man," and other writings, whose considerable merit +and value appear to me more or less impaired by the craniological theory +which he made the foundation of all his works, and which to my mind +diminished the general utility of his publications for those readers who +are not prepared to accept it as the solution of all the mysteries of +human existence.</p> + +<p>His writings are all upon subjects of the greatest importance and +universal interest, and full of the soundest moral philosophy and the +most enlightened humanity; and their only drawback, to me, is the +phrenological element which enters so largely into his treatment of +every question. Indeed, his life was devoted to the dissemination of +this new philosophy of human nature (new, at any rate, in the precise +details which Gall, Spurzheim, and he elaborated from it), which, Combe +believed, if once generally accepted, would prove the clew to every +difficulty, and the panacea for every evil existing in modern +civilization. Political and social, religious and civil, mental and +moral government, according to him, hinged upon the study and knowledge +of the different organs of the human brain, and he labored incessantly +to elucidate and illustrate this subject, upon which he thought the +salvation of the world depended. For a number of years I enjoyed the +privilege of his friendship, and I have had innumerable opportunities of +hearing his system explained by himself; but as I was never able to get +beyond a certain point of belief in it, it was agreed on all hands that +my brain was deficient in the organ of causality, <i>i.e.</i>, in the +capacity of logical reasoning, and that therefore it was not in my power +to perceive the force of his arguments or the truth of his system, even +when illustrated by his repeated demonstrations.</p> + +<p>I am bound to say that my cousin Cecilia Combe had quite as much trouble +with her household, her lady's-maids were quite as inefficient, her +housemaids quite as careless, and her cooks quite as fiery-tempered and +unsober as those of "ordinary Christians," in spite of Mr. Combe's +observation and manipulation of their bumps previous to engaging them.</p> + +<p>I remember once, when I was sitting to Lawrence Macdonald for my bust, +which was one of the first he ever executed, before he left Edinburgh to +achieve fame and fortune as the most suc<a name="Page_152" id="Page_152" ></a><span class="pagenum">[152]</span>cessful marble portrait-maker in +Rome, an absurd instance of Mr. Combe's insight into character occurred +at my expense.</p> + +<p>Macdonald was an intimate friend of the Combes, and I used to see him at +their house very frequently, and Mr. Combe often came to the studio when +I was sitting. One day while he was standing by, grimly observing +Macdonald's absorbed manipulation of his clay, while I, the original +<i>clay</i>, occupied the "bad eminence" of an artist's studio throne, my +aunt came in with a small paper bag containing raspberry tarts in her +hand. This was a dainty so peculiarly agreeable to me that, even at that +advanced stage of my existence, those who loved me, or wished to be +loved by me, were apt to approach me with those charming three-cornered +puff paste propitiations.</p> + +<p>As soon as I espied the confectioner's light paper bag I guessed its +contents, and, springing from my dignified station, seized on the tarts +as if I had been the notorious knave of the nursery rhyme. "There now, +Macdonald, I told you so!" quoth Mr. Combe, and they both began to +laugh; and so did I, with my mouth full of raspberry puff, for it was +quite evident to me that my phrenological friend had impressed upon my +artistic friend the special development of my organ of alimentiveness, +as he politely called it, which I translated into the vulgate as "bump +of greediness." In spite of my reluctance to sit to him, from the +conviction that the thick outline of my features would turn the edge of +the finest chisel that "ever yet cut breath," and perhaps by dint of +phrenology, Macdonald succeeded in making a very good bust of me; and +some time after, to my great amusement, having seen me act in the +"Grecian Daughter," he said to me, "Oh, but what I want to do now is a +statue of you."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said I, "and I will tell you exactly where—in the last scene, +where I cover my face."</p> + +<p>"Precisely so!" cried my enthusiastic friend, and then burst out +laughing, on seeing the trap I had laid for him; but he was a very +honest man, and stood by his word.</p> + +<p>The attitude he wished to represent in a statue was that when, having +stabbed Dionysius, I raised the dagger toward heaven with one hand, and +drew my drapery over my face with the other. For my notion of heroic +women has always been, I am afraid, rather base—a sort of "They do not +mind death, but they can not bear pinching;" and though Euphrasia might, +could, would, and should stab the man who was about to murder her +father, I have no idea that she would like to look at the man she had +stabbed. "O Jupiter, no blood!" is apt to be <a name="Page_153" id="Page_153" ></a><span class="pagenum">[153]</span>the instinct, I suspect, +even in very villainous feminine natures, and those who are and those +who are not cowards alike shrink from sights of horror.</p> + +<p>When I made Macdonald's acquaintance I was a girl of about seventeen, +and he at the very beginning of his artistic career; but he had an +expression of power and vivid intelligence which foretold his future +achievements in the exquisite art to which he devoted himself.</p> + +<p>When next I met Macdonald it was after a long lapse of time, in 1846, in +Rome. Thither he had gone to study his divine art, and there he had +remained for a number of years in the exercise of it. He was now the +Signor Lorenzo of the Palazzo Barberini, the most successful and +celebrated maker of busts, probably, in Rome, having achieved fame, +fortune, the favor of the great, and the smiles of the fair, of the most +fastidious portion of the English society that makes its winter season +in Italy. He dined several times at our house (I was living with my +sister and her husband); under his guidance we went to see the statutes +of the Vatican by torchlight; and he came out once or twice in the +summer of that year to visit us at our villa at Frascati.</p> + +<p>I returned to Rome in 1852, and saw Macdonald frequently, in his studio, +in our own house, and in general society; and shortly before leaving +Rome I met him at dinner at Mrs. Archer Clive's (the authoress of "Paul +Ferrol"). I had a nosegay of snowdrops in the bosom of my dress, and +Macdonald, who sat next me, observed that they reminded him of Scotland, +that he had never seen one in all the years he had passed in Italy, and +did not even know that they grew there.</p> + +<p>The next day I went to the gardener of the Villa Medici, an old friend +of mine, and begged him to procure a pot of snowdrops for me, which I +carried to Macdonald's studio, thinking an occasional reminiscence of +his own northern land, which he had not visited for years, not a bad +element to infuse into his Roman life and surroundings. Macdonald's +portraits are generally good likenesses, sufficiently idealized to be +also good works of art. In statuary he never accomplished any thing of +extraordinary excellence. I think the "Ulysses Recognized by his Dog" +his best performance in sculpture. His studio was an extremely +interesting place of resort, from the portraits of his many remarkable +sitters with which it was filled.</p> + +<p>I met dear old Macdonald, in the winter of 1873, creeping in the sun +slowly up the Pincio as I waddled heavily down it (<i>Eheu!</i>), his +snow-white hair and moustache making his little-<a name="Page_154" id="Page_154" ></a><span class="pagenum">[154]</span>altered and strongly +marked features only more striking. I visited his studio and found +there, ardently and successfully creating immortal gods, a handsome, +pleasing youth, his son, inheriting his father's genius, and, strange to +say, his broadest of Scotch accents, though he had himself never been +out of Rome, where he was born.</p> + +<p>On one occasion Mr. Combe was consulted by Prince Albert with regard to +the royal children, and was desired to examine their heads. He did not, +of course, repeat any of the opinions he had given upon the young +princes' "developments," but said they were very nice children, and +likely to be capitally educated, for, he added (though shaking his head +over cousinly intermarriages among royal personages), Prince Albert was +well acquainted with the writings of Gall and Spurzheim, and his own +work on "The Constitution of Man." Prince Albert seems to have known +something of every thing that was worthy of a Wiseman's knowledge.</p> + +<p>In spite of my inability to accept his science of human nature, Mr. +Combe was always a most kind and condescending friend to me. He was a +man of singular integrity, uprightness, and purity of mind and +character, and of great justice and impartiality of judgment; he was +extremely benevolent and humane, and one of the most reasonable human +beings I have ever known. From first to last my intercourse with him was +always delightful and profitable to me. Of the brothers, however, the +younger, Dr. Andrew Combe, was by far the most generally popular, and +deservedly so. He was one of the most excellent and amiable of men; his +countenance, voice, and manner were expressive of the kindliest +benevolence; he had none of the angular rigidity of person and harshness +of feature of his brother: both were worthy and distinguished men, but +Andrew Combe was charming, which George Combe was not—at least to those +who did not know him. Although Dr. Combe completely indorsed his +brother's system, he was far lass fanatical and importunate in his +advocacy of it. Indeed, his works upon physiology, hygiene, and the +physical education of children are of such universal value and +importance that no parent or trainer of youth should be unfamiliar with +them. Moreover, to them and their excellent author society is indebted +for an amount of knowledge on these subjects which has now passed into +general use and experience, and become so completely incorporated in the +practice of the present day, that it is hardly remembered to whom the +first and most powerful impression of the importance of the "natural +laws," and their observance in our own lives and the train<a name="Page_155" id="Page_155" ></a><span class="pagenum">[155]</span>ing of our +children, is due. I knew a school of young girls in Massachusetts, where +taking regular exercise, the use of cold baths, the influence of fresh +air, and all the process of careful physical education to which they +were submitted, went by the general name of <i>Combeing</i>, in honor of Dr. +Combe.</p> + +<p>Dr. Combe was Mrs. Harry Siddons's medical adviser, most trusted friend, +and general counselor. The young people of her family, myself included, +all loved and honored him; and the gleam of genial pleasant humor (a +quality of which his worthy brother had hardly a spark) which frequently +brightened the gentle gravity of his countenance and demeanor made his +intercourse delightful to us; and great was the joy when he proposed to +take one or other of us in his gig for a drive to some patient's house, +in the lovely neighborhood of Edinburgh. I remember my poor dear +mother's dismay when, on my return home, I told her of these same +drives. She was always in a fever of apprehension about people's falling +in love with each other, and begged to know how old a man this +delightful doctor, with whom Mrs. Harry allowed her own daughters and my +mother's daughters to go <i>gigging</i>, might be. "Ah," replied I, +inexpressibly amused at the idea of Dr. Combe in the character of a gay +gallant, "ever so old!" I had the real school-girl's estimate of age, +and honestly thought that dear Dr. Combe was quite an old man. I believe +he was considerably under forty. But if he had been much younger, the +fatal disease which had set its seal upon him, and of which he +died—after defending his life for an almost incredible space of time +from its ultimate victory (which all his wisdom and virtue could but +postpone)—was so clearly written upon his thin, sallow face, deep-sunk +eyes, and emaciated figure, and gave so serious and almost sad an +expression to his countenance and manner, that one would as soon have +thought of one's grandfather as an unsafe companion for young girls. I +still possess a document, duly drawn up and engrossed in the form of a +deed by his brother, embodying a promise which he made to me jestingly +one day, that when he was dead he would not fail to let me know, if ever +ghosts were permitted to revisit the earth, by appearing to me, binding +himself by this contract that the vision should be unaccompanied by the +smallest smell of sulphur or flash of blue flame, and that instead of +the indecorous undress of a slovenly winding-sheet, he would wear his +usual garments, and the familiar brown great-coat with which, to use his +own expression, he "buttoned his bones together" in his life. I +remembered that laughing promise when, years after it was <a name="Page_156" id="Page_156" ></a><span class="pagenum">[156]</span>given, the +news of his death reached me, and I thought how little dismay I should +feel if it could indeed have been possible for me to see again, "in his +image as he lived," that kind and excellent friend. On one of the +occasions when Dr. Combe took me to visit one of his patients, we went +to a quaint old house in the near neighborhood of Edinburgh. If the +Laird of Dumbiedike's mansion had been still standing, it might have +been that very house. The person we went to visit was an old Mr. M——, +to whom he introduced me, and with whom he withdrew, I suppose for a +professional consultation, leaving me in a strange, curious, +old-fashioned apartment, full of old furniture, old books, and faded, +tattered, old nondescript articles, whose purpose it was not easy to +guess, but which must have been of some value, as they were all +protected from the air and dust by glass covers. When the gentlemen +returned, Mr. M—— gratified my curiosity by showing every one of them +to me in detail, and informing me that they had all belonged to, or were +in some way relics of, Charles Edward Stuart. "And this," said the old +gentleman, "was his sword." It was a light dress rapier, with a very +highly cut and ornamented steel hilt. I half drew the blade, thinking +how it had flashed from its scabbard, startling England and dazzling +Scotland at its first unsheathing, and in what inglorious gloom of +prostrate fortunes it had rusted away at last, the scorn of those who +had opposed, and the despair of those who had embraced, its cause. "And +so that was the Pretender's sword!" said I, hardly aware that I had +spoken until the little, withered, snuff-colored gentleman snatched +rather than took it from me, exclaiming, "Wha' did ye say, madam? it was +the <i>prince's</i> sword!" and laid it tenderly back in the receptacle from +which he had taken it.</p> + +<p>As we drove away, Dr. Combe told me, what indeed I had perceived, that +this old man, who looked like a shriveled, russet-colored leaf for age +and feebleness, was a passionate partisan of Charles Edward, by whom my +mention of him as the Pretender, if coming from a man, would have been +held a personal insult. It was evident that I, though a mere chit of the +irresponsible sex, had both hurt and offended him by it. His sole +remaining interest in life was hunting out and collecting the smallest +records or memorials of this shadow of a hero; surely the merest "royal +apparition" that ever assumed kingship. "What a set those Stuarts must +have been!" exclaimed an American friend of mine once, after listening +to "Bonnie Prince Charlie," "to have had all those glorious Jacobite +songs made and sung for them, and not to have been more of men <a name="Page_157" id="Page_157" ></a><span class="pagenum">[157]</span>than they +were!" And so I think, and thought even then, for though I had a passion +for the Jacobite ballads, I had very little enthusiasm for their +thoroughly inefficient hero, who, for the claimant of a throne, was +undoubtedly <i>un très pauvre sire</i>. Talking over this with me, as we +drove from Mr. M——'s, Dr. Combe said he was persuaded that at that +time there were men to be found in Scotland ready to fight a duel about +the good fame of Mary Stuart.</p> + +<p>Sir Walter Scott told me that when the Scottish regalia was discovered, +in its obscure place of security, in Edinburgh Castle, pending the +decision of government as to its ultimate destination, a committee of +gentlemen were appointed its guardians, among whom he was one; and that +he received a most urgent entreaty from an old lady of the Maxwell +family to be permitted to see it. She was nearly ninety years old, and +feared she might not live till the crown jewels of Scotland were +permitted to become objects of public exhibition, and pressed Sir Walter +with importunate prayers to allow her to see them before she died. Sir +Walter's good sense and good nature alike induced him to take upon +himself to grant the poor old lady's petition, and he himself conducted +her into the presence of these relics of her country's independent +sovereignty; when, he said, tottering hastily forward from his support, +she fell on her knees before the crown, and, clasping and wringing her +wrinkled hands, wailed over it as a mother over her dead child. His +description of the scene was infinitely pathetic, and it must have +appealed to all his own poetical and imaginative sympathy with the +former glories of his native land.</p> + +<p>My mother's anxiety about Dr. Combe's age reminds me that my intimacy +with my cousin, Harry Siddons, who was now visiting his mother previous +to his departure for India to begin his military career, had been a +subject of considerable perplexity to her while I was still at home and +he used to come from Addiscombe to see us. Nothing could be more +diametrically opposite than his mother's and my mother's system (if +either could be called so) of dealing with the difficulty, though I have +my doubts whether Mrs. Harry perceived any in the case; and whereas I +think my mother's apprehensions and precautions would have very probably +been finally justified by some childish engagement between Harry and +myself, resulting in all sorts of difficulties and complications as time +went on and absence and distance produced their salutary effect on a boy +of twenty and a girl of seventeen, Mrs. Harry remained passive, and +apparently unconscious of any danger; and we <a name="Page_158" id="Page_158" ></a><span class="pagenum">[158]</span>walked and talked and +danced and were sentimental together after the most approved cousinly +fashion, and Harry went off to India with my name engraved upon his +sword—a circumstance which was only made known to me years after by his +widow (his and my cousin, Harriet Siddons), whom he met and loved and +married in India, and who made me laugh, telling me how hard he and she +had worked, scratched, and scrubbed together to try and efface my name +from the good sword; which, however, being true steel, and not +inconstant heart of man, refused to give up its dedication. I should +have much objected to any such inscription had I been consulted.</p> + +<p>My cousin Harry's wife was the second daughter of George Siddons, Mrs. +Siddons's eldest son, who through her interest was appointed, while +still quite a young man, to the influential and lucrative post of +collector of the port at Calcutta, which position he retained for nearly +forty years. He married a lady in whose veins ran the blood of the kings +of Delhi, and in whose descendants, in one or two instances, even in the +fourth generation, this ancestry reveals itself by a type of beauty of +strikingly Oriental character. Among these is the beautiful Mrs. +Scott-Siddons, whose exquisite features present the most perfect living +miniature of her great-grandmother's majestic beauty. In two curiously +minute, highly finished miniatures of the royal Hindoo personages, her +ancestors, which Mrs. George Siddons gave Miss Twiss (and the latter +gave me), it is wonderful how strong a likeness may be traced to several +of their remote descendants born in England of English parents.</p> + +<p>To return to Edinburgh: another intimate acquaintance, or rather friend, +of Mr. Combe's whom I frequently met at his house was Duncan McLaren, +father of the present member of Parliament, the able editor of the +<i>Scotsman</i>. Between him and the Combes all matters of public interest +and importance were discussed from the most liberal and enlightened +point of view, and it was undoubtedly a great advantage to an +intelligent girl of my age to hear such vigorous, manly, clear +expositions of the broadest aspects of all the great political and +governmental questions of the day. Admirable sound sense was the +characteristic that predominated in that intellectual circle, and was +brought to bear upon every subject; and I remember with the greatest +pleasure the evenings I passed at Mr. Combe's residence in +Northumberland Street, with these three grave men. Among the younger +associates to whom these elders and betters extended their kindly +hospitality was William Gregory, son of the eminent professor of +chemistry, who himself has since pursued the same scientific <a name="Page_159" id="Page_159" ></a><span class="pagenum">[159]</span>course with +equal success and distinction, adding a new luster to the honorable name +he inherited.</p> + +<p>Mr. William Murray, my dear Mrs. Harry's brother, was another member of +our society, to whom I have alluded, in speaking of the Edinburgh +Theater, as an accomplished actor; and sometimes I used to think that +was all he was, for it was impossible to determine whether the romance, +the sentiment, the pathos, the quaint humor, or any of the curiously +capricious varying moods in which these were all blended, displayed real +elements of his character or only shifting exhibitions of the peculiar +versatility of a nature at once so complex and so superficial that it +really was impossible for others, and I think would have been difficult +for himself, to determine what was genuine thought and feeling in him, +and what the mere appearance or demonstration or imitation of thought +and feeling. Perhaps this peculiarity was what made him such a perfect +actor. He was a very melancholy man, with a tendency to moody morbidness +of mind which made him a subject of constant anxiety to his sister. His +countenance, which was very expressive without being at all handsome, +habitually wore an air of depression, and yet it was capable of +brilliant vivacity and humorous play of feature. His conversation, when +he was in good spirits, was a delightful mixture of sentiment, wit, +poetry, fun, fancy and imagination. He had married the sister of Mrs. +Thomas Moore (the Bessie so tenderly invited to "fly from the world" +with the poet), and I used to think that he was like an embodiment of +Moore's lyrical genius: there was so much pathos and wit and humor and +grace and spirit and tenderness, and such a quantity of factitious +flummery besides in him, that he always reminded me of those pretty and +provoking songs in which some affected attitudinizing conceit mingles +with almost every expression of genuine feeling, like an artificial rose +in a handful of wild flowers.</p> + +<p>I do not think William Murray's diamonds were of the finest water, but +his <i>paste</i> was; and it was difficult enough to tell the one from the +other. He had a charming voice, and sang exquisitely, after a fashion +which I have no doubt he copied (as, however, only original genius can +copy) from Moore; but his natural musical facility was such that, +although no musician, and singing everything only by ear, he executed +the music of the Figaro in Mozart's "Nozze" admirably. He had a good +deal of his sister's winning charm of manner, and was (but not, I think, +of malice prepense) that pleasantly pernicious creature, a male flirt. +It was quite out of his power to address any woman <a name="Page_160" id="Page_160" ></a><span class="pagenum">[160]</span>(sister or niece or +cookmaid) without an air and expression of sentimental courtesy and +tender chivalrous devotion, that must have been puzzling and perplexing +in the extreme to the uninitiated; and I am persuaded that until some +familiarity bred—if not contempt, at least comprehension—every woman +of his acquaintance (his cook included) must have felt convinced that he +was struggling against a respectful and hopeless passion for her.</p> + +<p>Of another acquaintance of ours in Edinburgh, a Mrs. A——, I wish to +say a word. She was a very singular woman; not perhaps in being +tolerably ignorant and silly, with an unmeaning face and a foolish, +commonplace manner, an average specimen of vacuity of mind and vapidity +of conversation, but undoubtedly singular in that she combined with +these not un-frequent human conditions a most rare gift of musical and +poetical interpretation—a gift so peculiar that when she sang she +literally seemed inspired, taken possession of, by some other soul, that +entered into her as she opened her mouth and departed from her as she +shut it. She had a dull, brick-colored, long, thin face, and dull, +pale-green eyes, like boiled gooseberries; but when in a clear, high, +sweet, passionless soprano, like the voice of a spirit, and without any +accompaniment, she sang the old Scotch ballads which she had learned in +early girlhood from her nurse, she produced one of the most powerful +impressions that music and poetry combined can produce. From her I heard +and learned by ear "The Douglas Tragedy," "Fine Flowers in the Valley," +"Edinbro'," and many others, and became completely enamored of the wild +beauty of the Scotch ballads, the terror and pity of their stories, and +the strange, sweet, mournful music to which they were told. I knew every +collection of them, that I could get hold of, by heart, from Scott's +"Border Minstrelsy" to Smith's six volumes of "National Scottish Songs +with their Musical Settings," and I said and sang them over in my lonely +walks perpetually; and they still are to me among the deepest and +freshest sources of poetical thought and feeling that I know. It is +impossible, I think, to find a truer expression of passion, anguish, +tenderness, and supernatural terror, than those poems contain. The dew +of heaven on the mountain fern is not more limpid than the simplicity of +their diction, nor the heart's blood of a lover more fervid than the +throbbing intensity of their passion. Misery, love, longing, and despair +have found no finer poetical utterance out of Shakespeare; and the +deepest chords of woe and tenderness have been touched by these often +un<a name="Page_161" id="Page_161" ></a><span class="pagenum">[161]</span>known archaic song-writers, with a power and a pathos inferior only to +his. The older ballads, with the exquisite monotony of their burdens +soothing and relieving the tragic tenor of their stories, like the +sighing of wind or the murmuring of water; the clarion-hearted Jacobite +songs, with the fragrance of purple heather and white roses breathing +through their strains of loyal love and death-defying devotion; and the +lovely, pathetic, and bewitchingly humorous songs of Burns, with their +enchanting melodies, were all familiar to me, and, during the year that +I spent in Edinburgh, were my constant study and delight.</p> + +<p>On one occasion I sat by Robert Chambers, and heard him relate some +portion of the difficulties and distresses of his own and his brother's +early boyhood (the interesting story has lately become generally known +by the publication of their memoirs); and I then found it very difficult +to swallow my dinner, and my tears, while listening to him, so deeply +was I affected by his simple and touching account of the cruel struggle +the two brave lads—destined to become such admirable and eminent +men—had to make against the hardships of their position. I remember his +describing the terrible longing occasioned by the smell of newly baked +bread in a baker's shop near which they lived, to their poor, +half-starved, craving appetites, while they were saving every farthing +they could scrape together for books and that intellectual sustenance of +which, in after years, they became such bountiful dispensers to all +English-reading folk. Theirs is a very noble story of virtue conquering +fortune and dedicating it to the highest purposes. I used to meet the +Messrs. Chambers at Mr. Combe's house; they were intimate and valued +friends of the phrenologist, and I remember when the book entitled +"Vestiges of Creation" came out, and excited so great a sensation in the +public mind, that Mr. Combe attributed the authorship of it, which was +then a secret, to Robert Chambers.</p> + +<p>Another Edinburgh friend of ours was Baron Hume, a Scottish law +dignitary, a charming old gentleman of the very old school, who always +wore powder and a pigtail, knee-breeches, gold-buckles, and black silk +stockings; and who sent a thrill of delight through my girlish breast +when he addressed me, as he invariably did, by the dignified title of +"madam;" though I must sorrowfully add that my triumph on this score was +considerably abated when, on the occasion of my second visit to +Edinburgh, after I had come out on the stage, I went to see my kind old +friend, who was too aged and infirm to go to the <a name="Page_162" id="Page_162" ></a><span class="pagenum">[162]</span>theater, and who said +to me as I sat on a low stool by his sofa, "Why, madam, they tell me you +are become a great tragic actress! But," added he, putting his hand +under my chin, and raising my face toward him, "how am I to believe that +of this laughing face, madam?" No doubt he saw in his memory's eye the +majestic nose of my aunt, and my "visnomy" under the effect of such a +contrast must have looked comical enough, by way of a tragic mask. By +the bye, it is on record that while Gainsborough was painting that +exquisite portrait of Mrs. Siddons which is now in the South Kensington +Gallery, and which for many fortunate years adorned my father's house, +after working in absorbed silence for some time he suddenly exclaimed, +"Damn it, madam, there is no end to your nose!" The <i>restoration</i> of +that beautiful painting has destroyed the delicate charm of its +coloring, which was perfectly harmonious, and has as far as possible +made it coarse and vulgar: before it had been spoiled, not even Sir +Joshua's "Tragic Muse" seemed to me so noble and beautiful a +representation of my aunt's beauty as that divine picture of +Gainsborough's.</p> + +<p>Two circumstances occurred during my stay in Edinburgh which made a +great impression upon me: the one was the bringing of the famous old +gun, Mons Meg, up to the castle; and the other was the last public +appearance of Madame Catalani. I do not know where the famous old cannon +had been kept till it was resolved to place it in Edinburgh Castle, but +the event was made quite a public festival, and by favor of some of the +military authorities who presided over the ceremony we were admirably +placed in a small angle or turret that commanded the beautiful land and +sea and town, and immediately overlooked the hollow road up which, with +its gallant military escort of Highland troops, and the resounding +accompaniment of their warlike music, the great old lumbering piece of +ordnance came slowly, dragged by a magnificent team of horses, into the +fortress. Nothing could be more striking than the contrast presented by +this huge, clumsy, misshapen, obsolete engine of war, and the spruce, +trim, shining, comparatively little cannon (mere pocket-pistols for +Bellona) which furnished the battery just below our stand, and which, as +soon as the unwieldy old warrioress had occupied the post of honor +reserved for her in their midst, sent forth a martial acclaim of welcome +that made the earth tremble under our feet, and resounded through the +air, shivering, with the strong concussion, more than one pane of glass +in the windows of Princess Street far below.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163" ></a><span class="pagenum">[163]</span>Of Madame Catalani, all I can say is that I think she sang only "God +save the King" and "Rule Britannia" on the occasion on which I heard +her, which was that of her last public appearance in Edinburgh. I +remember only these, and think had she sung any thing else I could not +have forgotten it. She was quite an old woman, but still splendidly +handsome. Her magnificent dark hair and eyes, and beautiful arms, and +her blue velvet dress with a girdle flashing with diamonds, impressed me +almost as much as her singing; which, indeed, was rather a declamatory +and dramatic than a musical performance. The tones of her voice were +still fine and full, and the majestic action of her arms as she uttered +the words, "When Britain first arose from the waves," wonderfully +graceful and descriptive; still, I remember better that I <i>saw</i>, than +that I <i>heard</i>, Madame Catalani. She is the first of the queens of song +that I have seen ascend the throne of popular favor, in the course of +sixty years, and pretty little Adelina Patti the last; I have heard all +that have reigned between the two, and above them all Pasta appears to +me pre-eminent for musical and dramatic genius—alone and unapproached, +the muse of tragic song.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + + +<p>I can not remember any event, or series of events, the influence of +which could, during my first stay in Edinburgh, have made a distinctly +serious or religious impression on my mind, or have directed my thoughts +especially toward the more solemn concerns and aspects of life. But from +some cause or other my mind became much affected at this time by +religious considerations, and a strong devotional element began to +predominate among my emotions and cogitations. In my childhood in my +father's house we had no special religious training; our habits were +those of average English Protestants of decent respectability. My mother +read the Bible to us in the morning before breakfast; Mrs. Trimmer's and +Mrs. Barbauld's Scripture histories and paraphrases were taught to us; +we learnt our catechism and collects, and went to church on Sunday, duly +and decorously, as a matter of course. Grace was always said before and +after meals by the youngest member of the family present; and I remember +a quaint, old-fashioned benediction which, when my father happened to be +at home at our bedtime, <a name="Page_164" id="Page_164" ></a><span class="pagenum">[164]</span>we used to kneel down by his chair to receive, +and with which he used to dismiss us for the night: "God bless you! make +you good, happy, healthy, and wise!" These, with our own daily morning +and evening prayers, were our devotional habits and pious practices. In +Mrs. Harry Siddons's house religion was never, I think, directly made a +subject of inculcation or discussion; the usual observances of Church of +England people were regularly fulfilled by all her family, the spirit of +true religion governed her life and all her home relations, but special, +direct reference to religious subjects was infrequent among us. God's +service in that house took the daily and hourly form of the +conscientious discharge of duty, unselfish, tender affection toward each +other, and kindly Christian charity toward all. At various times in my +life, when hearing discussions on the peculiar (technical, I should be +disposed to call it) profession and character supposed by some very good +people of a certain way of thinking to be the only indication of what +they considered real religion, I have remembered the serene, courageous +self-devotion of my dear friend, when, during a dangerous (as it was at +one time apprehended, fatal) illness of her youngest daughter, she would +leave her child's bedside to go to the theater, and discharge duties +never very attractive to her, and rendered distasteful then by cruel +anxiety, but her neglect of which would have injured the interests of +her brother, her fellow-actors, and all the poor people employed in the +theater, and been a direct infringement of her obligations to them. I +have wondered what amount of religion a certain class of "professing +Christians" would have allowed entered into that great effort.</p> + +<p>We attended habitually a small chapel served by the Rev. William +Shannon, an excellent but not exciting preacher, who was a devoted +friend of Mrs. Harry Siddons; and occasionally we went to Dr. Allison's +church and heard him—then an old man—preach, and sometimes his young +assistant, Mr. Sinclair, whose eloquent and striking sermons, which +impressed me much, were the only powerful direct appeals made to my +religious sentiments at that time. I rather incline to think that I had, +what a most unclerical young clergyman of my acquaintance once assured +me I had, a natural turn for religion. I think it not unlikely that a +great deal of the direct religious teaching and influences of my Paris +school-days was, as it were, coming up again to the surface of my mind, +and occupying my thoughts with serious reflections upon the most +important subjects. The freedom I enjoyed gave scope and leisure to my +character to <a name="Page_165" id="Page_165" ></a><span class="pagenum">[165]</span>develop and strengthen itself; and to the combined +healthful repose and activity of all my faculties, the absence of all +excitement and irritation from external influences, the pure moral +atmosphere and kindly affection by which I lived surrounded during this +happy year, I attribute whatever perception of, desire for, or endeavor +after goodness I was first consciously actuated by. In the rest and +liberty of my life at this time, I think, whatever was best in me had +the most favorable chance of growth, and I have remained ever grateful +to the wise forbearance of the gentle authority under which I lived, for +the benefit as well as the enjoyment I derived from the time I passed in +Edinburgh.</p> + +<p>I think that more harm is frequently done by over than by under culture +in the moral training of youth. Judicious <i>letting alone</i> is a precious +element in real education, and there are certain chords which, often +touched and made to vibrate too early, are apt to lose instead of +gaining power; to grow first weakly and morbidly sensitive, and then +hard and dull; and finally, when the full harmony of the character +depends upon their truth and depth of tone, to have lost some measure of +both under repeated premature handling.</p> + +<p>I sometimes think that instead of beginning, as we do, with a whole +heaven-and-earth-embracing theory of duty to God and man, it might be +better to adopt with our children the method of dealing only with each +particular instance of moral obligation empirically as it occurs; with +each particular incident of life, detached, as it were, from the notion +of a formal system, code, or theory of religious belief, until the +recurrence of the same rules of morality under the same governing +principle, invoked only in immediate application to some instance of +conduct or incident of personal experience, built up by degrees a body +of precedent which would have the force and efficacy of law before it +was theoretically inculcated as such. Whoever said that principles were +<i>moral habits</i> spoke, it seems to me, a valuable truth, not generally +sufficiently recognized or acted upon in the task of education.</p> + +<p>The only immediate result, that I can remember, of my graver turn of +thought at this time upon my conduct was a determination to give up +reading Byron's poetry. It was a great effort and a very great +sacrifice, for the delight I found in it was intense; but I was quite +convinced of its injurious effect upon me, and I came to the conclusion +that I would forego it.</p> + +<p>"Cain" and "Manfred" were more especially the poems that stirred my +whole being with a tempest of excitement that left <a name="Page_166" id="Page_166" ></a><span class="pagenum">[166]</span>me in a state of +mental perturbation impossible to describe for a long time after reading +them. I suppose the great genius touched in me the spirit of our time, +which, chit as I was, was common to us both; and the mere fact of my +being <i>un enfant du siècle</i> rendered me liable to the infection of the +potent, proud, desponding bitterness of his writing.</p> + +<p>The spirit of an age creates the spirit that utters it, and though +Byron's genius stamped its impress powerfully upon the thought and +feeling of his contemporaries, he was himself, after all, but a sort of +quintessence of <i>them</i>, and gave them back only an intensified, +individual extract of themselves. The selfish vanity and profligate vice +which he combined with his extraordinary intellectual gifts were as +peculiar to himself as his great mental endowments; and though fools may +have followed the fashion of his follies, the heart of all Europe was +not stirred by a fashion of which he set the example, but by a passion +for which he found the voice, indeed, but of which the key-note lay in +the very temper of the time and the souls of the men of his day. Goethe, +Alfieri, Châteaubriand, each in his own language and with his peculiar +national and individual accent, uttered the same mind; they stamped +their own image and superscription upon the coin to which, by so doing, +they gave currency, but the mine from whence they drew their metal was +the civilized humanity of the nineteenth century. It is true that some +of Solomon's coining rings not unlike Goethe's and Byron's; but Solomon +forestalled his day by being <i>blasé</i> before the nineteenth century. +Doubtless the recipe for that result has been the same for individuals +ever since the world rolled, but only here and there a great king, who +was also a great genius, possessed it in the earlier times; it took all +the ages that preceded it to make the <i>blasé</i> age, and Byron, +pre-eminently, to speak its mind in English—which he had no sooner done +than every nineteenth-century shop-boy in England quoted Byron, wore his +shirt-collar open, and execrated his destiny. Doubtless by grace of his +free-will a man may wring every drop of sap out of his own soul and help +his fellows like-minded with himself to do the same; but the everlasting +spirit of truth renews the vitality of the world, and while Byron was +growling and howling, and Shelley was denying and defying, Scott was +telling and Wordsworth singing things beautiful and good, and new and +true.</p> + +<p>Certain it is, however, that the noble poet's glorious chanting of much +inglorious matter did me no good, and so I resolved to read that grand +poetry no more. It was a severe <a name="Page_167" id="Page_167" ></a><span class="pagenum">[167]</span>struggle, but I persevered in it for +more than two years, and had my reward; I broke through the thraldom of +that powerful spell, and all the noble beauty of those poems remained to +me thenceforth divested of the power of wild excitement they had +exercised over me. A great many years after this girlish effort and +sacrifice, Lady Byron, who was a highly esteemed friend of mine, spoke +to me upon the subject of a new and cheap edition of her husband's works +about to be published, and likely to be widely disseminated among the +young clerk and shopkeeper class of readers, for whom she deprecated +extremely the pernicious influence it was calculated to produce. She +consulted me on the expediency of appending to it some notice of Lord +Byron written by herself, which she thought might modify or lessen the +injurious effect of his poetry upon young minds. "Nobody," she said, +"knew him as I did" (this certainly was not the general impression upon +the subject); "nobody knew as well as I the causes that had made him +what he was; nobody, I think, is so capable of doing justice to him, and +therefore of counteracting the injustice he does to himself, and the +injury he might do to others, in some of his writings." I was strongly +impressed by the earnestness of her expression, which seemed to me one +of affectionate compassion for Byron and profound solicitude lest, even +in his grave, he should incur the responsibility of yet further evil +influence, especially on the minds of the young. I could not help +wondering, also, whether she did not shrink from being again, to a new +generation and a wider class of readers, held up to cruel ridicule and +condemnation as the cold-hearted, hard, pedantic prude, without sympathy +for suffering or relenting toward repentance. I had always admired the +reticent dignity of her silence with reference to her short and +disastrous union with Lord Byron, and I felt sorry, therefore, that she +contemplated departing from the course she had thus far steadfastly +pursued, though I appreciated the motive by which she was actuated. I +could not but think, however, that she overestimated the mischief +Byron's poetry was likely to do the young men of 1850, highly +prejudicial as it undoubtedly was to those of his day, illustrated, so +to speak, by the bad notoriety of his own character and career. But the +generation of English youth who had grown up with Thackeray, Dickens, +and Tennyson as their intellectual nourishment, seemed to me little +likely to be infected with Byronism, and might read his poetry with a +degree of impunity which the young people of his own time did not enjoy. +I urged this my conviction upon her, as rendering less necessary than +she imagined the antidote she <a name="Page_168" id="Page_168" ></a><span class="pagenum">[168]</span>was anxious to append to the poison of the +new edition of her husband's works. But to this she replied that she had +derived her impression of the probable mischief to a class peculiarly +interesting to him, from Frederick Robertson, and of course his opinion +was more than an overweight for mine.</p> + +<p>Lady Byron did not, however, fulfill her purpose of prefacing the +contemplated edition of Byron's poems with a notice of him by herself, +which I think very likely to have been a suggestion of Mr. Robertson's +to her.</p> + +<p>My happy year in Edinburgh ended, I returned to London, to our house in +James Street, Buckingham Gate, where I found my parents much burdened +with care and anxiety about the affairs of the theater, which were +rapidly falling into irretrievable embarrassment. My father toiled +incessantly, but the tide of ill-success and losing fortune had set +steadily against him, and the attempt to stem it became daily harder and +more hopeless. I used sometimes to hear some of the sorrowful details of +this dreary struggle, and I well remember the indignation and terror I +experienced when one day my father said at dinner, "I have had a new +experience to-day: I have been arrested for the first time in my life." +I believe my father was never personally in debt during all his life; he +said he never had been up to that day, and I am very sure he never was +afterward. Through all the severe labor of his professional life, and +his strenuous exertions to maintain his family and educate my brothers +like gentlemen, and my sister and myself with every advantage, he never +incurred the misery of falling into debt, but paid his way as he went +along, with difficulty, no doubt, but still steadily and successfully, +"owing no man any thing." But the suit in question was brought against +him as one of the proprietors of the theater, for a debt which the +theater owed; and, moreover, was that of a person whom he had befriended +and helped forward, and who had always professed the most sincere +gratitude and attachment to him. The constantly darkening prospects of +that unlucky theater threw a gloom over us all; sometimes my father used +to speak of selling his share in it for any thing he could get for it +(and Heaven knows it was not likely to be much!), and going to live +abroad; or sending my mother, with us, to live cheaply in the south of +France, while he continued to work in London. Neither alternative was +cheerful for him or my poor mother, and I felt very sorrowful for them, +though I thought I should like living in the south of France better than +in London. I was working with a good deal of enthusiasm at <a name="Page_169" id="Page_169" ></a><span class="pagenum">[169]</span>a tragedy on +the subject of Fiesco, the Genoese noble's conspiracy against the +Dorias—a subject which had made a great impression upon me when I first +read Schiller's noble play upon it. My own former fancy about going on +the stage, and passionate desire for a lonely, independent life in which +it had originated, had died away with the sort of moral and mental +effervescence which had subsided during my year's residence in +Edinburgh. Although all my sympathy with the anxieties of my parents +tended to make the theater an object of painful interest to me, and +though my own attempts at poetical composition were constantly cast in a +dramatic form, in spite of my enthusiastic admiration of Goethe's and +Schiller's plays (which, however, I could only read in French or English +translations, for I then knew no German) and my earnest desire to write +a good play myself, the idea of making the stage my profession had +entirely passed from my mind, which was absorbed with the wish and +endeavor to produce a good dramatic composition. The turn I had +exhibited for acting at school appeared to have evaporated, and Covent +Garden itself never occurred to me as a great institution for purposes +of art or enlightened public recreation, but only as my father's +disastrous property, to which his life was being sacrificed; and every +thought connected with it gradually became more and more distasteful to +me. It appears to me curious, that up to this time, I literally knew +nothing of Shakespeare, beyond having seen one or two of his plays +acted; I had certainly never read one of them through, nor did I do so +until some time later, when I began to have to learn parts in them by +heart.</p> + +<p>I think the rather serious bias which my mind had developed while I was +still in Scotland tended probably to my greater contentment in my home, +and to the total disinclination which I should certainly now have felt +for a life of public exhibition. My dramatic reading and writing was +curiously blended with a very considerable interest in literature of a +very different sort, and with the perusal of such works as Mason on +"Self-Knowledge," Newton's "Cardiphonia," and a great variety of sermons +and religious essays. My mother, observing my tendency to reading on +religious subjects, proposed to me to take my first communion. She was a +member of the Swiss Protestant Church, the excellent pastor of which, +the Rev. Mr. S——, was our near neighbor, and we were upon terms of the +friendliest intimacy with him and his family. In his church I received +the sacrament for the first time, but I do not think with <a name="Page_170" id="Page_170" ></a><span class="pagenum">[170]</span>the most +desirable effect. The only immediate result that I can remember of this +increase of my Christian profession and privileges was, I am sorry to +say, a rigid pharisaical formalism, which I carried so far as to decline +accompanying my father and mother to our worthy clergyman's house, one +Sunday, when we were invited to spend the evening with him and his +family. This sort of acrid fruit is no uncommon first harvest of +youthful religious zeal; and I suppose my parents and my worthy pastor +thought it a piece of unripe, childish, impertinent conscientiousness, +hardly deserving a serious rebuke.</p> + +<p>Another of my recollections which belong to this time is seeing several +times at our house that exceedingly coarse, disagreeable, clever, and +witty man, Theodore Hook. I always had a dread of his loud voice, and +blazing red face, and staring black eyes; especially as on more than one +occasion his after-dinner wit seemed to me fitter for the table he had +left than the more refined atmosphere of the drawing-room. One day he +dined with us to meet my cousin Horace Twiss and his handsome new wife. +Horace had in a lesser degree some of Hook's wonderful sense of humor +and quickness of repartee, and the two men brought each other out with +great effect. Of course I had heard of Mr. Hook's famous reply when, +after having returned from the colonies, where he was in an official +position, under suspicion of peculation, a friend meeting him said, +"Why, hallo, Hook! I did not know you were in England! What has brought +you back again?" "Something wrong about the <i>chest</i>," replied the +imperturbable wit. He was at this time the editor of the John Bull, a +paper of considerable ability, and only less scurrility than the <i>Age</i>; +and in spite of his <i>chest difficulty</i> he was much sought in society for +his extraordinary quickness and happiness in conversation. His +outrageous hoax of the poor London citizen, from whom he extorted an +agonized invitation to dinner by making him believe that he and Charles +Mathews were public surveyors, sent to make observations for a new road, +which was to go straight through the poor shopkeeper's lawn, +flower-garden, and bedroom, he has, I believe, introduced into his novel +of "Gilbert Gurney." But not, of course, with the audacious +extemporaneous song with which he wound up the joke, when, having eaten +and drank the poor citizen's dinner, prepared for a small party of +citizen friends (all the time assuring him that he and his friend would +use their very best endeavors to avert the threatened invasion of his +property by the new line of road), he proposed singing a song, to the +<a name="Page_171" id="Page_171" ></a><span class="pagenum">[171]</span>great delight of the unsophisticated society, the concluding verse of +which was—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And now I am bound to declare<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That your wine is as good as your cook,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that this is Charles Mathews, the player,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And I, sir, am Theodore Hook."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>He always demanded, when asked for a specimen of his extemporizing +power, that a subject should be given to him. I do not remember, on one +occasion, what was suggested in the first instance, but after some +discussion Horace Twiss cried out, "The Jews." It was the time of the +first mooting of the question of the Jews being admitted to stand for +Parliament and having seats in the House, and party spirit ran extremely +high upon the subject. Theodore Hook shrugged his shoulders and made a +discontented grimace, as if baffled by his theme, the Jews. However, he +went to the piano, threw back his head, and began strumming a galloping +country-dance tune, to which he presently poured forth the most +inconceivable string of witty, comical, humorous, absurd allusions to +everybody present as well as to the subject imposed upon him. Horace +Twiss was at that time under-secretary either for foreign affairs or the +colonies, and Hook took occasion to say, or rather sing, that the +foreign department could have little charms for a man who had so many +more in the home, with an indication to Annie Twiss; the final verse of +this real firework of wit was this—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I dare say you think there's little wit<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In this, but you've all forgot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, instead of being a jeu d'esprit,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">'Tis only a jeu de mot,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>pronouncing the French words as broadly as possible, "a <i>Jew d'esprit</i>, +and 'tis only a <i>Jew de motte</i>," for the sake of the rhyme, and his +subject, the Jews. It certainly was all through a capital specimen of +ready humor. I remember on another occasion hearing him exercise his +singular gift in a manner that seemed to me as unjustifiable as it was +disagreeable. I met him at dinner at Sir John McDonald's, then +adjutant-general, a very kind and excellent friend of mine. Mrs. Norton +and Lord C——, who were among the guests, both came late, and after we +had gone into the dining-room, where they were received with a discreet +quantity of mild chaff, Mrs. Norton being much too formidable an +adversary to be challenged lightly. After dinner, however, when the men +came up into the draw<a name="Page_172" id="Page_172" ></a><span class="pagenum">[172]</span>ing-room, Theodore Hook was requested to +extemporize, and having sung one song, was about to leave the piano in +the midst of the general entreaty that he would not do so, when Mrs. +Norton, seating herself close to the instrument so that he could not +leave it, said, in her most peculiar, deep, soft, contralto voice, which +was like her beautiful dark face set to music, "I am going to sit down +here, and you shall not come away, for I will keep you in like an iron +crow." There was nothing about her manner or look that could suggest any +thing but a flattering desire to enjoy Hook's remarkable talent in some +further specimen of his power of extemporizing, and therefore I suppose +there must have been some previous ill-will or heart-burning on his part +toward her—she was reckless enough in her use of her wonderful wit and +power of saying the most intolerable stinging things, to have left a +smart on some occasion in Hook's memory, for which he certainly did his +best to pay her then. Every verse of the song he now sang ended with his +turning with a bow to her, and the words, "my charming iron crow;" but +it was from beginning to end a covert satire of her and her social +triumphs; even the late arrival at dinner and its supposed causes were +duly brought in, still with the same mock-respectful inclination to his +"charming iron crow." Everybody was glad when the song was over, and +applauded it quite as much from a sense of relief as from admiration of +its extraordinary cleverness; and Mrs. Norton smilingly thanked Hook, +and this time made way for him to leave the piano.</p> + +<p>We lived near each other at this time, we in James Street, Buckingham +Gate, and the Nortons at Storey's Gate, at the opposite end of the +Birdcage Walk. We both of us frequented the same place of worship—a +tiny chapel wedged in among the buildings at the back of Downing Street, +the entrance to which was from the park; it has been improved away by +the new government offices. Our dinner at the McDonalds' was on a +Saturday, and the next day, as we were walking part of the way home +together from church, Mrs. Norton broke out about Theodore Hook and his +odious ill-nature and abominable coarseness, saying that it was a +disgrace and a shame that for the sake of his paper, the <i>John Bull</i>, +and its influence, the Tories should receive such a man in society. I, +who but for her outburst upon the subject should have carefully avoided +mentioning Hook's name, presuming that after his previous evening's +performance it could not be very agreeable to Mrs. Norton, now, not +knowing very well what to say, but thinking the Sheridan blood +(especially in her veins) might have some sympathy with and find some +excuse <a name="Page_173" id="Page_173" ></a><span class="pagenum">[173]</span>for him, suggested the temptation that the possession of such wit +must always be, more or less, to the abuse of it. "Witty!" exclaimed the +indignant beauty, with her lip and nostril quivering, "witty! One may +well be witty when one fears neither God nor devil!" I was heartily glad +Hook was not there; he was not particular about the truth, and would +infallibly, in some shape or other, have translated for her benefit, "Je +crains Dieu, cher Abner, et n'ai point d'autre crainte."</p> + +<p>The Nortons' house was close to the issue from St. James's Park into +Great George Street. I remember passing an evening with them there, when +a host of distinguished public and literary men were crowded into their +small drawing-room, which was literally resplendent with the light of +Sheridan beauty, male and female: Mrs. Sheridan (Miss Callender, of +whom, when she published a novel, the hero of which commits forgery, +that wicked wit, Sidney Smith, said he knew she was a Callender, but did +not know till then that she was a Newgate calendar), the mother of the +Graces, more beautiful than anybody but her daughters; Lady Grahame, +their beautiful aunt; Mrs. Norton, Mrs. Blackwood (Lady Dufferin), +Georgiana Sheridan (Duchess of Somerset and queen of beauty by universal +consent), and Charles Sheridan, their younger brother, a sort of younger +brother of the Apollo Belvedere. Certainly I never saw such a bunch of +beautiful creatures all growing on one stem. I remarked it to Mrs. +Norton, who looked complacently round her tiny drawing-room and said, +"Yes, we are rather good-looking people." I remember this evening +because of the impression made on me by the sight of these wonderfully +"good-looking people" all together, and also because of my having had to +sing with Moore—an honor and glory hardly compensating the distress of +semi-strangulation, in order to avoid drowning his feeble thread of a +voice with the heavy, robust contralto which I found it very difficult +to swallow half of, while singing second to him, in his own melodies, +with the other half. My acquaintance with Mrs. Norton lasted through a +period of many years, and, though never very intimate, was renewed with +cordiality each time I returned to England. It began just after I came +out on the stage, when I was about twenty, and she a few years older. My +father and mother had known her parents and grandparents, Richard +Brinsley Sheridan and Miss Lindley, from whom their descendants derived +the remarkable beauty and brilliant wit which distinguished them.</p> + +<p>My mother was at Drury Lane when Mr. Sheridan was at the head of its +administration, and has often described to me <a name="Page_174" id="Page_174" ></a><span class="pagenum">[174]</span>the extraordinary +proceedings of that famous first night of "Pizarro," when, at last +keeping the faith he had so often broken with the public, Mr. Sheridan +produced that most effective of melodramas, with my aunt and uncle's +parts still unfinished, and, depending upon their extraordinary rapidity +of study, kept them learning the last scenes of the last act, which he +was still writing, while the beginning of the piece was being performed. +By the by, I do not know what became of the theories about the dramatic +art, and the careful and elaborate study necessary for its perfection. +In this particular instance John Kemble's Rolla and Mrs. Siddons's +Elvira must have been what may be called extemporaneous acting. Not +impossibly, however, these performances may have gained in vivid power +and effect what they lost in smoothness and finish, from the very +nervous strain and excitement of such a mental effort as the actors were +thus called upon to make. My mother remembered well, too, the dismal +Saturdays when, after prolonged periods of non-payment of their +salaries, the poorer members of the company, and all the unfortunate +work-people, carpenters, painters, scene-shifters, understrappers of all +sorts, and plebs in general of the great dramatic concern, thronging the +passages and staircases, would assail Sheridan on his way to the +treasury with pitiful invocations: "For God's sake, Mr. Sheridan, pay us +our salaries!" "For Heaven's sake, Mr. Sheridan, let us have something +this week!" and his plausible reply of, "Certainly, certainly, my good +people, you shall be attended to directly." Then he would go into the +treasury, sweep it clean of the whole week's receipts (the salaries of +the principal actors, whom he dared not offend and could not dispense +with, being, if not wholly, partially paid), and, going out of the +building another way, leave the poor people who had cried to him for +their arrears of wages baffled and cheated of the price of their labor +for another week. The picture was not a pleasant one.</p> + +<p>When I first knew Caroline Sheridan, she had not long been married to +the Hon. George Norton. She was splendidly handsome, of an un-English +character of beauty, her rather large and heavy head and features +recalling the grandest Grecian and Italian models, to the latter of whom +her rich coloring and blue-black braids of hair gave her an additional +resemblance. Though neither as perfectly lovely as the Duchess of +Somerset, nor as perfectly charming as Lady Dufferin, she produced a far +more striking impression than either of them, by the combination of the +poetical genius with which she alone, of the three, was gifted, with the +brilliant wit and power of repartee which <a name="Page_175" id="Page_175" ></a><span class="pagenum">[175]</span>they (especially Lady +Dufferin) possessed in common with her, united to the exceptional beauty +with which they were all three endowed. Mrs. Norton was extremely +epigrammatic in her talk, and comically dramatic in her manner of +narrating things. I do not know whether she had any theatrical talent, +though she sang pathetic and humorous songs admirably, and I remember +shaking in my shoes when, soon after I came out, she told me she envied +me, and would give anything to try the stage herself. I thought, as I +looked at her wonderful, beautiful face, "Oh, if you should, what would +become of me!" She was no musician, but had a deep, sweet contralto +voice, precisely the same in which she always spoke, and which, combined +with her always lowered eyelids ("downy eyelids" with sweeping silken +fringes), gave such incomparably comic effect to her sharp retorts and +ludicrous stories; and she sang with great effect her own and Lady +Dufferin's social satires, "Fanny Grey," and "Miss Myrtle," etc., and +sentimental songs like "Would I were with Thee," "I dreamt 'twas but a +Dream," etc., of which the words were her own, and the music, which only +amounted to a few chords with the simplest modulations, her own also. I +remember she used occasionally to convulse her friends <i>en petit comité</i> +with a certain absurd song called "The Widow," to all intents and +purposes a piece of broad comedy, the whole story of which (the wooing +of a disconsolate widow by a rich lover, whom she first rejects and then +accepts) was comprised in a few words, rather spoken than sung, eked out +by a ludicrous burden of "rum-ti-iddy-iddy-iddy-ido," which, by dint of +her countenance and voice, conveyed all the alternations of the widow's +first despair, her lover's fiery declaration, her virtuous indignation +and wrathful rejection of him, his cool acquiescence and intimation that +his full purse assured him an easy acceptance in various other quarters, +her rage and disappointment at his departure, and final relenting and +consent on his return; all of which with her "iddy-iddy-ido" she sang, +or rather acted, with incomparable humor and effect. I admired her +extremely.</p> + +<p>In 1841 I began a visit of two years and a half in England. During this +time I constantly met Mrs. Norton in society. She was living with her +uncle, Charles Sheridan, and still maintained her glorious supremacy of +beauty and wit in the great London world. She came often to parties at +our house, and I remember her asking us to dine at her uncle's, when +among the people we met were Lord Lansdowne and Lord Normanby, both then +in the ministry, whose good-will and influence she was <a name="Page_176" id="Page_176" ></a><span class="pagenum">[176]</span>exerting herself +to <i>captivate</i> in behalf of a certain shy, silent, rather rustic +gentleman from the far-away province of New Brunswick, Mr. Samuel +Cunard, afterwards Sir Samuel Cunard of the great mail-packet line of +steamers between England and America. He had come to London an obscure +and humble individual, endeavoring to procure from the government the +sole privilege of carrying the transatlantic mails for his line of +steamers. Fortunately for him he had some acquaintance with Mrs. Norton, +and the powerful beauty, who was kind-hearted and good-natured to all +but her natural enemies (i.e. the members of her own London society), +exerted all her interest with her admirers in high place in favor of +Cunard, and had made this very dinner for the express purpose of +bringing her provincial <i>protégé</i> into pleasant personal relations with +Lord Lansdowne and Lord Normanby, who were likely to be of great +service to him in the special object which had brought him to England. +The only other individual I remember at the dinner was that most +beautiful person, Lady Harriet d'Orsay. Years after, when the Halifax +projector had become Sir Samuel Cunard, a man of fame in the worlds of +commerce and business of New York and London, a baronet of large +fortune, and a sort of proprietor of the Atlantic Ocean between England +and the United States, he reminded me of this charming dinner in which +Mrs. Norton had so successfully found the means of forwarding his +interests, and spoke with enthusiasm of her kind-heartedness as well as +her beauty and talents; he, of course, passed under the Caudine Forks, +beneath which all men encountering her had to bow and throw down their +arms. She was very fond of inventing devices for seals, and other such +ingenious exercises of her brains, and she gave —— a star with the +motto, "Procul sed non extincta," which she civilly said bore reference +to me in my transatlantic home. She also told me, when we were talking +of mottoes for seals and rings, that she had had engraved on a ring she +always wore the name of that miserable bayou of the +Mississippi—Atchafalaya—where Gabriel passes near one side of an +island, while Evangeline, in her woe-begone search, is lying asleep on +the other; and that, to her surprise, she found that the King of the +Belgians wore a ring on which he had had the same word engraved, as an +expression of the bitterest and most hopeless disappointment.</p> + +<p>In 1845 I passed through London, and spent a few days there with my +father, on my way to Italy. Mrs. Norton, hearing of my being in town, +came to see me, and urged me extremely to go and dine with her before I +left London, which I <a name="Page_177" id="Page_177" ></a><span class="pagenum">[177]</span>did. The event of the day in her society was the +death of Lady Holland, about which there were a good many lamentations, +of which Lady T—— gave the real significance, with considerable +<i>naïveté</i>: "Ah, poore deare Ladi Ollande! It is a grate pittie; it was +suche a <i>pleasant 'ouse!</i>" As I had always avoided Lady Holland's +acquaintance, I could merely say that the regrets I heard expressed +about her seemed to me only to prove a well-known fact—how soon the +dead were forgotten. The <i>real</i> sorrow was indeed for the loss of her +house, that pleasantest of all London rendezvouses, and not for its +mistress, though those whom I then heard speak were probably among the +few who did regret her. Lady Holland had one good quality (perhaps more +than one, which I might have found out if I had known her): she was a +constant and exceedingly warm friend, and extended her regard and +remembrance to all whom Lord Holland or herself had ever received with +kindness or on a cordial footing. My brother John had always been +treated with great friendliness by Lord Holland, and in her will Lady +Holland, who had not seen him for years, left him as a memento a copy, +in thirty-two volumes, of the English essayists, which had belonged to +her husband.</p> + +<p>Almost immediately after this transient renewal of my intercourse with +Mrs. Norton, I left England for Italy, and did not see her again for +several years. The next time I did so was at an evening party at my +sister's house, where her appearance struck me more than it had ever +done. Her dress had something to do with this effect, no doubt. She had +a rich gold-colored silk on, shaded and softened all over with black +lace draperies, and her splendid head, neck, and arms were adorned with +magnificently simple Etruscan gold ornaments, which she had brought from +Rome, whence she had just returned, and where the fashion of that famous +antique jewelry had lately been revived. She was still "une beauté +triomphante à faire voir aux ambassadeurs."</p> + +<p>During one of my last sojourns in London I met Mrs. Norton at Lansdowne +House. There was a great assembly there, and she was wandering through +the rooms leaning on the arm of her youngest son, her glorious head +still crowned with its splendid braids of hair, and wreathed with grapes +and ivy leaves, and this was my last vision of her; but, in the autumn +of 1870, Lady C—— told me of meeting her in London society, now indeed +quite old, but indomitably handsome and witty.</p> + +<p>I think it only humane to state, for the benefit of all mothers anxious +for their daughters', and all daughters anxious for their <a name="Page_178" id="Page_178" ></a><span class="pagenum">[178]</span>own, future +welfare in this world, that in the matter of what the lady's-maid in the +play calls "the first of earthly blessings—personal appearance," +Caroline Sheridan as a girl was so little distinguished by the +exceptional beauty she subsequently developed, that her lovely mother, +who had a right to be exacting in the matter, entertained occasionally +desponding misgivings as to the future comeliness of one of the most +celebrated beauties of her day.</p> + +<p>At the time of my earliest acquaintance with the Nortons, our friends +the Basil Montagus had left their house in Bedford Square, and were also +living at Storey's Gate. Among the remarkable people I met at their +house was the Indian rajah, Ramohun Roy, philosopher, scholar, reformer, +Quaker, theist, I know not what and what not, who was introduced to me, +and was kind enough to take some notice of me. He talked to me of the +literature of his own country, especially its drama, and, finding that I +was already acquainted with the Hindoo theatre through the medium of my +friend Mr. Horace Wilson's translations of its finest compositions, but +that I had never read "Sakuntalà," the most remarkable of them all, +which Mr. Wilson had not included in his collection (I suppose because +of its translation by Sir William Jones), Ramohun Roy sent me a copy of +it, which I value extremely as a memento of so remarkable a man, but in +which I confess I am utterly unable to find the extraordinary beauty and +sublimity which he attributed to it, and of which I remember Goethe also +speaks enthusiastically (if I am not mistaken, in his conversations with +Eckermann), calling it the most wonderful production of human genius. +Goethe had not, any more than myself, the advantage of reading +"Sakuntalà" in Sanskrit, and I am quite at a loss to account for the +extreme and almost exaggerated admiration he expresses for it.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">James Street, Buckingham Gate, August 23, ——.</span></p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I received your last on my return from the country, where I had +been staying a fortnight, and I assure you that after an +uncomfortable and rainy drive into town I found it of more service +in warming me than even the blazing fire with which we are obliged +to shame the month of August.</p> + +<p>I have a great deal to tell you about our affairs, and the effect +that their unhappy posture seems likely to produce upon my future +plans and prospects. Do you remember a letter I wrote to you a long +time ago about going on the stage? and another, <a name="Page_179" id="Page_179" ></a><span class="pagenum">[179]</span>some time before +that, about my becoming a governess? The urgent necessity which I +think now exists for exertion, in all those who are capable of it +among us, has again turned my thoughts to these two considerations. +My father's property, and all that we might ever have hoped to +derive from it, being utterly destroyed in the unfortunate issue of +our affairs, his personal exertions are all that remain to him and +us to look to. There are circumstances in which reflections that +our minds would not admit at other times of necessity force +themselves upon our consideration. Those talents and +qualifications, both mental and physical, which have been so +mercifully preserved to my dear father hitherto, cannot, in the +natural course of things, all remain unimpaired for many more +years. It is right, then, that those of us who have the power to do +so should at once lighten his arms of all unnecessary burden, and +acquire the habit of independent exertion before the moment comes +when utter inexperience would add to the difficulty of adopting any +settled mode of proceeding; it is right and wise to prepare for the +evil day before it is upon us. These reflections have led me to the +resolution of entering upon some occupation or profession which may +enable me to turn the advantages my father has so liberally +bestowed upon me to some account, so as not to be a useless +incumbrance to him at present, or a helpless one in future time. My +brother John, you know, has now determined, to go into the Church. +Henry we have good although remote hopes of providing well for, +and, were I to make use of my own capabilities, dear little A—— +would be the only one about whom there need be any anxiety. I +propose writing to my father before he returns home (he is at +present acting in the provinces) on this subject. Some step I am +determined to take; the nature of it will, of course, remain with +him and my mother. I trust that whatever course they resolve upon I +shall be enabled to pursue steadily, and I am sure that, be it what +it may, I shall find it comparatively easy, as the motive is +neither my own profit nor reputation, but the desire of bringing +into their right use whatever talents I may possess, which have not +been given for useless purposes. I hope and trust that I am better +fitted for either of the occupations I have mentioned than I was +when I before entertained an idea of them. You asked me what +inclined John's thoughts to the Church. It would be hard to say; or +rather, I ought to say, that Providence which in its own good time +makes choice of its instruments, and which I ever firmly trusted +would not suffer my brother's fine powers to be wasted on unworthy +<a name="Page_180" id="Page_180" ></a><span class="pagenum">[180]</span>aims. I am not able to say how the change which has taken place in +his opinions and sentiments was effected; but you know one has not +done <i>all</i> one's thinking at two and twenty. I have been by +circumstances much separated from my brother, and when with him +have had but little communication upon such subjects. It was at a +time when, I think, his religious principles were somewhat +unsettled, that his mind was so passionately absorbed by politics. +The nobler instincts of his nature, diverted for a while from due +direct intercourse with their divine source, turned themselves with +enthusiastic, earnest hope to the desire of benefiting his +fellow-creatures; and to these aims—the reformation of abuses, the +establishment of a better system of government, the gradual +elevation and improvement of the people, and the general progress +of the country towards enlightened liberty and consequent +prosperity—he devoted all his thoughts. This was the period of his +fanatical admiration for Jeremy Bentham and Mill, who, you know, +are our near neighbors here, and whose houses we never pass without +John being inclined to salute them, I think, as the shrines of some +beneficent powers of renovation. And here comes the break in our +intercourse and in my knowledge of his mental and moral progress. I +went to Scotland, and was amazed, after I had been there some time, +to hear from my mother that John had not got his scholarship, and +had renounced his intention of going to the bar and determined to +study for the Church. I returned home, and found him much changed. +His high sense of the duties attending it makes me rejoice most +sincerely that he has chosen that career, which may not be the +surest path to worldly advancement, but if conscientiously followed +must lead, I should think, to the purest happiness this life can +offer. I think much of this change may be attributed to the example +and influence of some deservedly dear friends of his; probably +something to the sobering effect of the disappointment and +mortification of his failure at college, where such sanguine hopes +and expectations of his success had been entertained. Above all, I +refer his present purpose to that higher influence which has +followed him through all his mental wanderings, suggesting the +eager inquiries of his restless and dissatisfied spirit, and +finally leading it to this, its appointed goal. He writes to us in +high spirits from Germany, and his letters are very delightful.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Siddons and Cecy are with Mrs. Kemble at Leamington. Mrs. +Harry Siddons is, I fear, but little better; she has had another +attack of erysipelas, and I am very anxious to get to <a name="Page_181" id="Page_181" ></a><span class="pagenum">[181]</span>her, but the +distance, and the dependence of all interesting young females in +London on the legs and leisure of chaperons, prevents me from +seeing her as often as I wish.</p> + +<p>German is an arduous undertaking, and I have once more abandoned +it, not only on account of its difficulty, but because I do not at +present wish to enter upon the study of a foreign language, when I +am but just awakened to my radical ignorance of my own. God bless +you, dear H——.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Yours ever,</p><p class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Fanny</span>. +</p></div> + +<p>As long as I retained a home of my own, I resisted my friend's +half-expressed wish that I should destroy her letters; but when I ceased +to have any settled place of habitation, it became impossible to provide +for the safe-keeping of a mass of papers the accumulation of which +received additions every few days, and by degrees (for my courage failed +me very often in the task) my friend's letters were destroyed. Few +things that I have had to relinquish have cost me a greater pang or +sense of loss, and few of the conditions of my wandering life have +seemed to me more grievous than the necessity it imposed upon me of +destroying these letters. My friend did not act upon her own theory with +regard to my correspondence, and indeed it seems to me that no general +rule can be given with regard to the preservation or destruction of +correspondence. What revelations of misery and guilt may lie in the +forgotten folds of hoarded letters, that have been preserved only to +blast the memory of the dead! What precious words, again, have been +destroyed, that might have lightened for a whole heavy lifetime the +doubt and anguish of the living! In this, as in all we do, we grope +about in darkness, and the one and the other course must often enough +have been bitterly lamented by those who "did for the best" in keeping +or destroying these chronicles of human existence.</p> + +<p>Madame Pasta's daughter once said to Charles Young, who enthusiastically +admired her great genius, "Vous trouvez qu'elle chante et joue bien, +n'est-ce pas?" "Je crois bien," replied he, puzzled to understand her +drift. "Well," replied the daughter of the great lyrical artist, "to us, +to whom she belongs, and who know and love her, her great talent is the +least admirable thing about her; but no one but us knows that."</p> + +<p>Doubtless if letters of Shakespeare's could be found, letters developing +the mystery of those sorrowful sonnets, or even <a name="Page_182" id="Page_182" ></a><span class="pagenum">[182]</span>letters describing his +daily dealings with his children, and Mistress Anne Hathaway, his wife; +nay, even the fashion, color, and texture of the hangings of "the +second-best bed," her special inheritance, a frenzy of curiosity would +be aroused by them. All his glorious plays would not be worth +(bookseller's value) some scraps of thought and feeling, or mere +personal detail, or even commonplace (he must have been sovereignly +commonplace) impartment of theatrical business news and gossip to his +fellow-players, or Scotch Drummond, or my Lord Southampton, or the Dark +Woman of the sonnets. But we know little about him, thank Heaven! and I +am glad that little is not more.</p> + +<p>I know he must have sinned and suffered, mortal man since he was, but I +do not wish to know how. From his plays, in spite of the necessarily +impersonal character of dramatic composition, we gather a vivid and +distinct impression of serene sweetness, wisdom, and power. In the +fragment of personal history which he gives us in his sonnets, the +reverse is the case; we have a painful impression of mournful struggling +with adverse circumstances and moral evil elements, and of the labor and +the love of his life alike bestowed on objects deemed by himself +unworthy; and in spite of his triumphant promise of immortality to the +false mistress or friend, or both, to whom (as far as he has revealed +them to us) he has kept his promise, we fall to pitying Shakespeare, the +bestower of immortality. In the great temple raised by his genius to his +own undying glory, one narrow door opens into a secret, silent crypt, +where his image, blurred and indistinct, is hardly discernible through +the gloomy atmosphere, heavy and dim as if with sighs and tears. Here is +no clew, no issue, and we return to the shrine filled with light and +life and warmth and melody; with knowledge and love of man, and worship +of God and nature. There is our benefactor and friend, simplest and most +lovable, though most wonderful of his kind; other image of him than that +bright one may the world never know!</p> + +<p>The extraordinary development of the taste for petty details of personal +gossip which our present literature bears witness to makes it almost a +duty to destroy all letters not written for publication; and yet there +is no denying that life is essentially interesting—every life, any +life, all lives, if their detailed history could be given with truth and +simplicity. For my own part, I confess that the family correspondence, +even of people utterly unknown to me, always seems to me full of +interest. The vivid interest the writers took in themselves makes their +<a name="Page_183" id="Page_183" ></a><span class="pagenum">[183]</span>letters better worth reading than many books we read; they are life, as +compared with imitations of it—life, that mystery and beauty surpassing +every other; they are morsels of that profoundest of all secrets, which +baffles alike the man of science, the metaphysician, artist, and poet. +And yet it would be hard if A, B, and C's letters should therefore be +published, especially as, had they contemplated my reading them, they +would doubtless never have written them, or written them quite other +than they did.</p> + +<p>To resume my chronicle. My brother John was at this time traveling in +Germany; the close of his career at Cambridge had proved a bitter +disappointment to my father, and had certainly not fulfilled the +expectations of any of his friends or the promise of his own very +considerable abilities. He left the university without taking his +degree, and went to Heidelberg, where he laid the foundation of his +subsequent thorough knowledge of German, and developed the taste for the +especial philological studies to which he eventually devoted himself, +but his eminence in which brought him little emolument and but tardy +fame, and never in the least consoled my father for the failure of all +the brilliant hopes he had formed of the future distinction and fortune +of his eldest son. When a man has made up his mind that his son is to be +Lord Chancellor of England, he finds it hardly an equivalent that he +should be one of the first Anglo-Saxon scholars in Europe.</p> + +<p>In my last letter to Miss S—— I have referred to some of my brother's +friends and their possible influence in determining his choice of the +clerical profession in preference to that of the law, which my father +had wished him to adopt, and for which, indeed, he had so far shown his +own inclination as to have himself entered at the Inner Temple.</p> + +<p>Among my brother's contemporaries, his school and college mates who +frequented my father's house at this time, were Arthur Hallam, Alfred +Tennyson and his brothers, Frederick Maurice, John Sterling, Richard +Trench, William Donne, the Romillys, the Malkins, Edward Fitzgerald, +James Spedding, William Thackeray, and Richard Monckton Milnes.</p> + +<p>These names were those of "promising young men," our friends and +companions, whose various remarkable abilities we learned to estimate +through my brother's enthusiastic appreciation of them. How bright has +been, in many instances, the full performance of that early promise, +England has gratefully acknowledged; they have been among the jewels of +their time, and some of their names will be famous and blessed for +genera<a name="Page_184" id="Page_184" ></a><span class="pagenum">[184]</span>tions to come. It is not for me to praise those whom all +English-speaking folk delight to honor; but in thinking of that bright +band of very noble young spirits, of my brother's love and admiration +for them, of their affection for him, of our pleasant intercourse in +those far-off early days,—in spite of the faithful, life-long regard +which still subsists between myself and the few survivors of that goodly +company, my heart sinks with a heavy sense of loss, and the world from +which so much light has departed seems dark and dismal enough.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + + +<p>Alfred Tennyson had only just gathered his earliest laurels. My brother +John gave me the first copy of his poems I ever possessed, with a +prophecy of his future fame and excellence written on the fly-leaf of +it. I have never ceased to exult in my possession of that copy of the +first edition of those poems, which became the songs of our every day +and every hour, almost; we delighted in them and knew them by heart, and +read and said them over and over again incessantly; they were our +pictures, our music, and infinite was the scorn and indignation with +which we received the slightest word of adverse criticism upon them. I +remember Mrs. Milman, one evening at my father's house, challenging me +laughingly about my enthusiasm for Tennyson, and asking me if I had read +a certain severely caustic and condemnatory article in the <i>Quarterly</i> +upon his poems. "Have you read it?" said she; "it is so amusing! Shall I +send it to you?" "No, thank you," said I; "have you read the poems, may +I ask?" "I cannot say that I have," said she, laughing. "Oh, then," said +I (not laughing), "perhaps it would be better that I should send you +those?"</p> + +<p>It has always been incomprehensible to me how the author of those poems +ever brought himself to alter them, as he did, in so many instances—all +(as it seemed to me) for the worse rather than the better. I certainly +could hardly love his verses better than he did himself, but the various +changes he made in them have always appeared to me cruel disfigurements +of the original thoughts and expressions, which were to me treasures not +to be touched even by his hand; and his changing lines which I thought +perfect, omitting beautiful stanzas that I loved, and interpolating +others that I hated, and disfig<a name="Page_185" id="Page_185" ></a><span class="pagenum">[185]</span>uring and maiming his own exquisite +creations with second thoughts (none of which were best to me), has +caused me to rejoice, while I mourn, over my copy of the first version +of "The May Queen," "Œnone," "The Miller's Daughter," and all the +subsequent <i>improved</i> poems, of which the improvements were to me +desecrations. In justice to Tennyson, I must add that the present +generation of his readers swear by <i>their</i> version of his poems as we +did by ours, for the same reason,—they knew it first.</p> + +<p>The early death of Arthur Hallam, and the imperishable monument of love +raised by Tennyson's genius to his memory, have tended to give him a +pre-eminence among the companions of his youth which I do not think his +abilities would have won for him had he lived; though they were +undoubtedly of a high order. There was a gentleness and purity almost +virginal in his voice, manner, and countenance; and the upper part of +his face, his forehead and eyes (perhaps in readiness for his early +translation), wore the angelic radiance that they still must wear in +heaven. Some time or other, at some rare moments of the divine spirit's +supremacy in our souls, we all put on the heavenly face that will be +ours hereafter, and for a brief lightning space our friends behold us as +we shall look when this mortal has put on immortality. On Arthur +Hallam's brow and eyes this heavenly light, so fugitive on other human +faces, rested habitually, as if he was thinking and seeing in heaven.</p> + +<p>Of all those very remarkable young men, John Sterling was by far the +most brilliant and striking in his conversation, and the one of whose +future eminence we should all of us have augured most confidently. But +though his life was cut off prematurely, it was sufficiently prolonged +to disprove this estimate of his powers. The extreme vividness of his +look, manner, and speech gave a wonderful impression of latent vitality +and power; perhaps some of this lambent, flashing brightness may have +been but the result of the morbid physical conditions of his existence, +like the flush on his cheek and the fire in his eye; the over stimulated +and excited intellectual activity, the offspring of disease, mistaken by +us for morning instead of sunset splendor, promise of future light and +heat instead of prognostication of approaching darkness and decay. It +certainly has always struck me as singular that Sterling, who in his +life accomplished so little and left so little of the work by which men +are generally pronounced to be gifted with exceptional ability, should +have been the subject of two such interesting biographies as those +written of him by Julius Hare and Carlyle. I <a name="Page_186" id="Page_186" ></a><span class="pagenum">[186]</span>think he must have been one +of those persons in whom genius makes itself felt and acknowledged +chiefly through the medium of personal intercourse; a not infrequent +thing, I think, with women, and perhaps men, wanting the full vigor of +normal health. I suppose it is some failure not so much in the power +possessed as in the power of producing it in a less evanescent form than +that of spoken words, and the looks that with such organizations are +more than the words themselves. Sterling's genius was his <i>Wesen</i>, +himself, and he could detach no portion of it that retained anything +like the power and beauty one would have expected. After all, the world +has twice been moved (once intellectually and once morally), as never +before or since, by those whose spoken words, gathered up by others, are +all that remain of them. Personal influence is the strongest and the +most subtle of powers, and Sterling impressed all who knew him as a man +of undoubted genius; those who never knew him will perhaps always wonder +why.</p> + +<p>My life was rather sad at this time: my brother's failure at college was +a source of disappointment and distress to my parents; and I, who +admired him extremely, and believed in him implicitly, was grieved at +his miscarriage and his absence from England; while the darkening +prospects of the theater threw a gloom over us all. My hitherto frequent +interchange of letters with my dear friend H—— S—— had become +interrupted and almost suspended by the prolonged and dangerous illness +of her brother; and I was thrown almost entirely upon myself, and was +finding my life monotonously dreary, when events occurred that changed +its whole tenor almost suddenly, and determined my future career with +less of deliberation than would probably have satisfied either my +parents or myself under less stringent circumstances.</p> + +<p>It was in the autumn of 1829, my father being then absent on a +professional tour in Ireland, that my mother, coming in from walking one +day, threw herself into a chair and burst into tears. She had been +evidently much depressed for some time past, and I was alarmed at her +distress, of which I begged her to tell me the cause. "Oh, it has come +at last," she answered; "our property is to be sold. I have seen that +fine building all covered with placards and bills of sale; the theater +must be closed, and I know not how many hundred poor people will be +turned adrift without employment!" I believed the theater employed +regularly seven hundred persons in all its different departments, +without reckoning the great number of what were called supernumeraries, +who were hired by the night at Christ<a name="Page_187" id="Page_187" ></a><span class="pagenum">[187]</span>mas, Easter, and on all occasions +of any specially showy spectacle. Seized with a sort of terror, like the +Lady of Shallott, that "the curse had come upon me," I comforted my +mother with expressions of pity and affection, and, as soon as I left +her, wrote a most urgent entreaty to my father that he would allow me to +act for myself, and seek employment as a governess, so as to relieve him +at once at least of the burden of my maintenance. I brought this letter +to my mother, and begged her permission to send it, to which she +consented; but, as I afterward learned, she wrote by the same post to my +father, requesting him not to give a positive answer to my letter until +his return to town. The next day she asked me whether I seriously +thought I had any real talent for the stage. My school-day triumphs in +Racine's "Andromaque" were far enough behind me, and I could only +answer, with as much perplexity as good faith, that I had not the +slightest idea whether I had or not. She begged me to learn some part +and say it to her, that she might form some opinion of my power, and I +chose Shakespeare's Portia, then, as now, my ideal of a perfect +woman—the wise, witty woman, loving with all her soul and submitting +with all her heart to a man whom everybody but herself (who was the best +judge) would have judged her inferior; the laughter-loving, +light-hearted, true-hearted, deep-hearted woman, full of keen +perception, of active efficiency, of wisdom prompted by love, of +tenderest unselfishness, of generous magnanimity; noble, simple, humble, +pure; true, dutiful, religious, and full of fun; delightful above all +others, the woman of women. Having learned it by heart, I recited Portia +to my mother, whose only comment was, "There is hardly passion enough in +this part to test any tragic power. I wish you would study Juliet for +me." Study to me then, as unfortunately long afterward, simply meant to +learn by heart, which I did again, and repeated my lesson to my mother, +who again heard me without any observation whatever. Meantime my father +returned to town and my letter remained unanswered, and I was wondering +in my mind what reply I should receive to my urgent entreaty, when one +morning my mother told me she wished me to recite Juliet to my father; +and so in the evening I stood up before them both, and with +indescribable trepidation repeated my first lesson in tragedy.</p> + +<p>They neither of them said anything beyond "Very well,—very nice, my +dear," with many kisses and caresses, from which I escaped to sit down +on the stairs half-way between the drawing-room and my bedroom, and get +rid of the repressed nervous fear <a name="Page_188" id="Page_188" ></a><span class="pagenum">[188]</span>I had struggled with while reciting, +in floods of tears. A few days after this my father told me he wished to +take me to the theater with him to try whether my voice was of +sufficient strength to fill the building; so thither I went. That +strange-looking place, the stage, with its racks of pasteboard and +canvas—streets, forests, banqueting-halls, and dungeons—drawn apart on +either side, was empty and silent; not a soul was stirring in the +indistinct recesses of its mysterious depths, which seemed to stretch +indefinitely behind me. In front, the great amphitheater, equally empty +and silent, wrapped in its gray holland covers, would have been +absolutely dark but for a long, sharp, thin shaft of light that darted +here and there from some height and distance far above me, and alighted +in a sudden, vivid spot of brightness on the stage. Set down in the +midst of twilight space, as it were, with only my father's voice coming +to me from where he stood hardly distinguishable in the gloom, in those +poetical utterances of pathetic passion I was seized with the spirit of +the thing; my voice resounded through the great vault above and before +me, and, completely carried away by the inspiration of the wonderful +play, I acted Juliet as I do not believe I ever acted it again, for I +had no visible Romeo, and no audience to thwart my imagination; at +least, I had no consciousness of any, though in truth I had one. In the +back of one of the private boxes, commanding the stage but perfectly +invisible to me, sat an old and warmly attached friend of my father's, +Major D——, a man of the world—of London society,—a passionate lover +of the stage, an amateur actor of no mean merit, one of the members of +the famous Cheltenham dramatic company, a first-rate critic in all +things connected with art and literature, a refined and courtly, +courteous gentleman; the best judge, in many respects, that my father +could have selected, of my capacity for my profession and my chance of +success in it. Not till after the event had justified my kind old +friend's prophecy did I know that he had witnessed that morning's +performance, and joining my father at the end of it had said, "Bring her +out at once; it will be a great success." And so three weeks from that +time I was brought out, and it was a "great success." Three weeks was +not much time for preparation of any sort for such an experiment, but I +had no more, to become acquainted with my fellow actors and actresses, +not one of whom I had ever spoken with or seen—off the stage—before; +to learn all the technical <i>business</i>, as it is called, of the stage; +how to carry myself toward the audience, which was not—but was to +be—before me; how to concert my movements with the movements <a name="Page_189" id="Page_189" ></a><span class="pagenum">[189]</span>of those I +was acting with, so as not to impede or intercept their efforts, while +giving the greatest effect of which I was capable to my own.</p> + +<p>I do not wonder, when I remember this brief apprenticeship to my +profession, that Mr. Macready once said that I did not know the elements +of it. Three weeks of morning rehearsals of the play at the theater, and +evening consultations at home as to colors and forms of costume, what I +should wear, how my hair should be dressed, etc., etc.,—in all which I +remained absolutely passive in the hands of others, taking no part and +not much interest in the matter,—ended in my mother's putting aside all +suggestions of innovation like the adoption of the real picturesque +costume of mediæval Verona (which was, of course, Juliet's proper +dress), and determining in favor of the traditional stage costume for +the part, which was simply a dress of plain white satin with a long +train, with short sleeves and a low body; my hair was dressed in the +fashion in which I usually wore it; a girdle of fine paste brilliants, +and a small comb of the same, which held up my hair, were the only +theatrical parts of the dress, which was as perfectly simple and as +absolutely unlike anything Juliet ever wore as possible.</p> + +<p>Poor Mrs. Jameson made infinite protests against this decision of my +mother's, her fine artistic taste and sense of fitness being intolerably +shocked by the violation of every propriety in a Juliet attired in a +modern white satin ball dress amid scenery representing the streets and +palaces of Verona in the fourteenth century, and all the other +characters dressed with some reference to the supposed place and period +of the tragedy. Visions too, no doubt, of sundry portraits of Raphael, +Titian, Giorgione, Bronzino,—beautiful alike in color and +fashion,—vexed her with suggestions, with which she plied my mother; +who, however, determined as I have said, thinking the body more than +raiment, and arguing that the unincumbered use of the person, and the +natural grace of young arms, neck, and head, and unimpeded movement of +the limbs (all which she thought more compatible with the simple white +satin dress than the picturesque mediæval costume) were points of +paramount importance. My mother, though undoubtedly very anxious that I +should look well, was of course far more desirous that I should act +well, and judged that whatever rendered my dress most entirely +subservient to my acting, and least an object of preoccupation and +strange embarrassment to myself, was, under the circumstances of my +total inexperience and brief period of preparation, the thing to be +chosen, and I am sure that in the main she <a name="Page_190" id="Page_190" ></a><span class="pagenum">[190]</span>judged wisely. The mere +appendage of a train—three yards of white satin—following me wherever +I went, was to me a new, and would have been a difficult experience to +most girls. As it was, I never knew, after the first scene of the play, +what became of my train, and was greatly amused when Lady Dacre told me, +the next morning, that as soon as my troubles began I had snatched it up +and carried it on my arm, which I did quite unconsciously, because I +found something in the way of <i>Juliet's feet</i>.</p> + +<p>I have often admired the consummate good sense with which, confronting a +whole array of authorities, historical, artistical, æsthetical, my +mother stoutly maintained in their despite that nothing was to be +adopted on the stage that was in itself ugly, ungraceful, or even +curiously antiquated and singular, however correct it might be with +reference to the particular period, or even to authoritative portraits +of individual characters of the play. The passions, sentiments, actions, +and sufferings of human beings, she argued, were the main concern of a +fine drama, not the clothes they wore. I think she even preferred an +unobtrusive indifference to a pedantic accuracy, which, she said, few +people appreciated, and which, if anything, rather took the attention +from the acting than added to its effect, when it was really fine.</p> + +<p>She always said, when pictures and engravings were consulted, "Remember, +this presents but one view of the person, and does not change its +position: how will this dress look when it walks, runs, rushes, kneels, +sits down, falls, and turns its back?" I think an edge was added to my +mother's keen, rational, and highly artistic sense of this matter of +costume because it was the special hobby of her "favorite aversion," Mr. +E——, who had studied with great zeal and industry antiquarian +questions connected with the subject of stage representations, and was +perpetually suggesting to my father improvements on the old ignorant +careless system which prevailed under former managements.</p> + +<p>It is very true that, as she said, Garrick acted Macbeth in a full court +suit of scarlet,—knee-breeches, powdered wig, pigtail, and all; and +Mrs. Siddons acted the Grecian Daughter in piles of powdered curls, with +a forest of feathers on the top of them, high-heeled shoes, and a +portentous hoop; and both made the audience believe that they looked +just as they should do. But for all that, actors and actresses who were +neither Garrick nor Mrs. Siddons were not less like the parts they +represented by being at least dressed as they should be; and the <a name="Page_191" id="Page_191" ></a><span class="pagenum">[191]</span>fine +accuracy of the Shakespearean revivals of Mr. Macready and Charles Kean +was in itself a great enjoyment; nobody was ever told to <i>omit</i> the +tithing of mint and cummin, though other matters were more important; +and Kean's Othello would have been the grand performance it was, even +with the advantage of Mr. Fechter's clever and picturesque "getting up" +of the play, as a frame to it; as Mademoiselle Rachel's wonderful +fainting exclamation of "Oh, mon cher Curiace!" lost none of its +poignant pathos, though she knew how every fold of her drapery fell and +rested on the chair on which she sank in apparent unconsciousness. +Criticising a portrait of herself in that scene, she said to the +painter, "Ma robe ne fait pas ce pli la; elle fait, au contraire, +celui-ci." The artist, inclined to defend his picture, asked her how, +while she was lying with her eyes shut and feigning utter insensibility, +she could possibly tell anything about the plaits of her dress. +"Allez-y-voir," replied Rachel; and the next time she played Camille, +the artist was able to convince himself by more careful observation that +she was right, and that there was probably no moment of the piece at +which this consummate artist was not aware of the effect produced by +every line and fold of the exquisite costume, of which she had studied +and prepared every detail as carefully as the wonderful movements of her +graceful limbs, the intonations of her awful voice, and the changing +expressions of her terribly beautiful countenance.</p> + +<p>In later years, after I became the directress of my own stage costumes, +I adopted one for Juliet, made after a beautiful design of my friend, +Mrs. Jameson, which combined my mother's <i>sine qua non</i> of simplicity +with a form and fashion in keeping with the supposed period of the play.</p> + +<p>My frame of mind under the preparations that were going forward for my +<i>début</i> appears to me now curious enough. Though I had found out that I +could act, and had acted with a sort of frenzy of passion and entire +self-forgetfulness the first time I ever uttered the wonderful +conception I had undertaken to represent, my going on the stage was +absolutely an act of duty and conformity to the will of my parents, +strengthened by my own conviction that I was bound to help them by every +means in my power. The theatrical profession was, however, utterly +distasteful to me, though <i>acting</i> itself, that is to say, dramatic +personation, was not; and every detail of my future vocation, from the +preparations behind the scenes to the representations before the +curtain, was more or less repugnant to me. Nor did custom ever render +this aversion less; and liking my work so lit<a name="Page_192" id="Page_192" ></a><span class="pagenum">[192]</span>tle, and being so devoid of +enthusiasm, respect, or love for it, it is wonderful to me that I ever +achieved <i>any</i> success in it at all. The dramatic element inherent in my +organization must have been very powerful, to have enabled me without +either study of or love for my profession to do anything worth anything +in it.</p> + +<p>But this is the reason why, with an unusual gift and many unusual +advantages for it, I did really so little; why my performances were +always uneven in themselves and perfectly unequal with each other, never +complete as a whole, however striking in occasional parts, and never at +the same level two nights together; depending for their effect upon the +state of my nerves and spirits, instead of being the result of +deliberate thought and consideration,—study, in short, carefully and +conscientiously applied to my work; the permanent element which +preserves the artist, however inevitably he must feel the influence of +moods of mind and body, from ever being at their mercy.</p> + +<p>I brought but one half the necessary material to the exercise of my +profession, that which nature gave me; and never added the cultivation +and labor requisite to produce any fine performance in the right sense +of the word; and, coming of a family of <i>real</i> artists, have never felt +that I deserved that honorable name.</p> + +<p>A letter written at this time to Miss S—— shows how comparatively +small a part my approaching ordeal engrossed my thoughts.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">James Street</span>, September 24, 1829,</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>Your letter grieved me very much, but it did not surprise me; of +your brother's serious illness I had heard from my cousin, Horace +Twiss. But is there indeed cause for the terrible anxiety you +express? I know how impossible it is to argue with the +apprehensions of affection, and should have forborne this letter +altogether, but that I felt very deeply your kindness in writing to +me at such a time, and that I would fain assure you of my +heart-felt sympathy, however unavailing it may be. To you who have +a steadfast anchor for your hopes, I ought not, perhaps, to say, +"Do not despond." Yet, dearest H——, do not despond: is there +<i>any</i> occasion when despair is justified? I know how lightly all +soothing counsel must be held, in a case of such sorrow as yours, +but among fellow-Christians such words still have some +significance; for the most unworthy of that holy profession may +point unfalteringly to the <a name="Page_193" id="Page_193" ></a><span class="pagenum">[193]</span>only consolations adequate to the need +of those far above them in every endowment of mind and heart and +religious attainment. Dear H——, I hardly know how to tell you how +much I feel for you, how sincerely I hope your fears may prove +groundless, and how earnestly I pray that, should they prove +prophetic, you may be enabled to bear the affliction, to meet which +I doubt not strength will be given you. This is all I dare say; +those who love you best will hardly venture to say more. To put +away entirely the idea of an evil which one may be called upon at +any moment to encounter would hardly be wise, even if it were +possible, in this world where every happiness one enjoys is but a +loan, the repayment of which may be exacted at the very moment, +perhaps, when we are forgetting in its possession the precarious +tenure by which alone it is ours.</p> + +<p>My dear father and mother have both been very unwell; the former is +a little recovered, but the latter is still in a sad state of +bodily suffering and mental anxiety. Our two boys are well and +happy, and I am very well and not otherwise than happy. I regret to +say Mrs. Henry Siddons will leave London in a very short time; this +is a great loss to me. I owe more to her than I can ever repay; for +though abundant pains had been bestowed upon me previously to my +going to her, it was she who caused to spring whatever scattered +seeds of good were in me, which almost seemed as if they had been +cast into the soil in vain.</p> + +<p>My dear H——, I am going on the stage: the nearest period talked +of for my <i>début</i> is the first of October, at the opening of the +theater; the furthest, November; but I almost think I should prefer +the nearest, for it is a very serious trial to look forward to, and +I wish it were over. Juliet is to be my opening part, but not to my +father's Romeo; there would be many objections to that; he will do +Mercutio for me. I do not enter more fully upon this, because I +know how few things can be of interest to you in your present state +of feeling, but I wished you not to find the first notice of my +entrance on the stage of life in a newspaper. God bless you, +dearest H——, and grant you better hopes.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Your most affectionate</p><p class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Fanny</span>. +</p></div> + +<p>My father not acting Romeo with me deprived me of the most poetical and +graceful stage lover of his day; but the public, who had long been +familiar with his rendering of the part of Romeo, gained as much as I +lost, by his taking that of Mercutio, which has never since been so +admirably represented, and <a name="Page_194" id="Page_194" ></a><span class="pagenum">[194]</span>I dare affirm will never be given more +perfectly. The graceful ease, and airy sparkling brilliancy of his +delivery of the witty fancies of that merry gentleman, the gallant +defiance of his bearing toward the enemies of his house, and his +heroically pathetic and humorous death-scene, were beyond description +charming. He was one of the best Romeos, and incomparably <i>the</i> best +Mercutio, that ever trod the English stage.</p> + +<p>My father was Miss O'Neill's Romeo throughout her whole theatrical +career, during which no other Juliet was tolerated by the English +public. This amiable and excellent woman was always an attached friend +of our family, and one day, when she was about to take leave of me, at +the end of a morning visit, I begged her to let my father have the +pleasure of seeing her, and ran to his study to tell him whom I had with +me. He followed me hastily to the drawing-room, and stopping at the +door, extended his arms towards her, exclaiming, "Ah, Juliet!" Lady +Becher ran to him and embraced him with a pretty, affectionate grace, +and the scene was pathetical as well as comical, for they were both +white-haired, she being considerably upward of sixty and he of seventy +years old; but she still retained the slender elegance of her exquisite +figure, and he some traces of his pre-eminent personal beauty.</p> + +<p>My mother had a great admiration and personal regard for Lady Becher, +and told me an anecdote of her early life which transmitted those +feelings of hers to me. Lord F——, eldest son of the Earl of E——, a +personally and mentally attractive young man, fell desperately in love +with Miss O'Neill, who was (what the popular theatrical heroine of the +day always is) the realization of their ideal to the youth, male and +female, of her time, the stage star of her contemporaries. Lord F——'s +family had nothing to say against the character, conduct, or personal +endowments of the beautiful, actress who had enchanted, to such serious +purpose as marriage, the heir of their house; but much, reasonably and +rightly enough, against marriages disproportionate to such a degree as +that, and the objectionable nature of the young woman's peculiar +circumstances and public calling. Both Miss O'Neill, however, and Lord +F—— were enough in earnest in their mutual regard to accept the test +of a year's separation and suspension of all intercourse. She remained +to utter herself in Juliet to the English public, and her lover went and +travelled abroad, both believing in themselves and each other. No +letters or communication passed between them; but toward the end of +their year of probation vague rumors came flying to England of the life +of <a name="Page_195" id="Page_195" ></a><span class="pagenum">[195]</span>dissipation led by the young man, and of the unworthy companions with +whom he entertained the most intimate relations. After this came more +explicit tales of positive entanglement with one particular person, and +reports of an entire devotion to one object quite incompatible with the +constancy professed and promised to his English mistress.</p> + +<p>Probably aware that every effort would, till the last, be made by Lord +F——'s family to detach them from each other, bound by her promise to +hold no intercourse with him, but determined to take the verdict of her +fate from no one but himself, Miss O'Neill obtained a brief leave of +absence from her theatrical duties, went with her brother and sister to +Calais, whence she travelled alone to Paris (poor, fair Juliet! when I +think of her, not as I ever knew her, but such as I know she must then +have been, no more pathetic image presents itself to my mind), and took +effectual measures to ascertain beyond all shadow of doubt the bitter +truth of the evil reports of her fickle lover's mode of life. His +devotion to one lady, the more respectable form of infidelity which must +inevitably have canceled their contract of love, was not indeed true, +and probably the story had been fabricated because the mere general +accusation of profligacy might easily have been turned into an appeal to +her mercy, as the result of reckless despondency and of his utter +separation from her; and a woman in her circumstances might not have +been hard to find who would have persuaded herself that she might +overlook "all that," reclaim her lover, and be an Earl's wife. Miss +O'Neill rejoined her family at Calais, wrote to Lord F——'s father, the +Earl of E——, her final and irrevocable rejection of his son's suit, +fell ill of love and sorrow, and lay for some space between life and +death for the sake of her unworthy lover; rallied bravely, recovered, +resumed her work,—her sway over thousands of human hearts,—and, after +lapse of healing and forgiving and forgetting time, married Sir William +Wrixon Becher.</p> + +<p>The peculiar excellence of her acting lay in the expression of pathos, +sorrow, anguish,—the sentimental and suffering element of tragedy. She +was expressly devised for a representative victim; she had, too, a rare +endowment for her special range of characters, in an easily excited, +superficial sensibility, which caused her to cry, as she once said to +me, "buckets full," and enabled her to exercise the (to most men) +irresistible influence of a beautiful woman in tears. The power (or +weakness) of abundant weeping without disfigurement is an attribute of +deficient rather than excessive feeling. In such persons the tears <a name="Page_196" id="Page_196" ></a><span class="pagenum">[196]</span>are +poured from their crystal cups without muscular distortion of the rest +of the face. In proportion to the violence or depth of emotion, and the +acute or profound sensibility of the temperament, is the disturbance of +the countenance. In sensitive organizations, the muscles round the +nostrils and lips quiver and are distorted, the throat and temples +swell, and a grimace, which but for its miserable significance would be +grotesque, convulses the whole face. Men's tears always seem to me as if +they were pumped up from their heels, and strained through every drop of +blood in their veins; women's, to start as under a knife stroke, direct +with a gush from their heart, abundant and beneficent; but again, women +of the temperament I have alluded to above have fountains of lovely +tears behind their lovely eyes, and their weeping, which is +indescribably beautiful, is comparatively painless, and yet pathetic +enough to challenge tender compassion. I have twice seen such tears +shed, and never forgotten them: once from heaven-blue eyes, and the face +looked like a flower with pearly dewdrops sliding over it; and again, +once from magnificent, dark, uplifted orbs, from which the falling tears +looked like diamond rain-drops by moonlight.</p> + +<p>Miss O'Neill was a supremely touching, but neither a powerful nor a +passionate actress. Personally, she was the very beau ideal of feminine +weakness in its most attractive form—delicacy. She was tall, slender, +elegantly formed, and extremely graceful; her features were regular and +finely chiseled, and her hair beautiful; her eyes were too light, and +her eyebrows and eyelashes too pale for expression; her voice wanted +variety and brilliancy for comic intonation, but was deep and sonorous, +and of a fine pathetic and tragic quality.</p> + +<p>It was not an easy matter to find a Romeo for me, and in the emergency +my father and mother even thought of my brother Henry's trying the part. +He was in the first bloom of youth, and really might be called +beautiful; and certainly, a few years later, might have been the very +ideal of a Romeo. But he looked too young for the part, as indeed he +was, being three years my junior. The overwhelming objection, however, +was his own insuperable dislike to the idea of acting, and his ludicrous +incapacity for assuming the faintest appearance of any sentiment. +However, he learned the words, and never shall I forget the explosion of +laughter which shook my father, my mother, and myself, when, after +hearing him recite the balcony scene with the most indescribable mixture +of shy terror and nervous convulsions of suppressed giggling, my father +threw <a name="Page_197" id="Page_197" ></a><span class="pagenum">[197]</span>down the book, and Henry gave vent to his feelings by clapping his +elbows against his sides and bursting into a series of triumphant +cock-crows—an expression of mental relief so ludicrously in contrast +with his sweet, sentimental face, and the part he had just been +pretending to assume, that I thought we never should have recovered from +the fits it sent us into. We were literally all crying with laughter, +and a more farcical scene cannot be imagined. This, of course, ended all +idea of that young chanticleer being my Romeo; and yet the young rascal +was, or fancied he was, over head and ears in love at this very time, +and an exquisite sketch Hayter had just made of him might with the +utmost propriety have been sent to the exhibition with no other title +than "Portrait of a Lover."</p> + +<p>The part of Romeo was given to Mr. Abbot, an old-established favorite +with the public, a very amiable and worthy man, old enough to have been +my father, whose performance, not certainly of the highest order, was +nevertheless not below inoffensive mediocrity. But the public, who were +bent upon doing more than justice to me, were less than just to him; and +the abuse showered upon his Romeo, especially by my more enthusiastic +admirers of the male sex, might, I should think, have embittered his +stage relations with me to the point of making me an object of +detestation to him, all through our theatrical lives. A tragicomic +incident was related to me by one of the parties concerned in it, which +certainly proved that poor Mr. Abbot was quite aware of the little favor +his Romeo found with my particular friends. One of them, the son of our +kind and valued friends the G——s, an excellent, good-hearted, but not +very wise young fellow, invariably occupied a certain favorite and +favorable position in the midst of the third row of the pit every night +that I acted. There were no stalls or reserved seats then, though not +long after I came out the majority of the seats in the orchestra were +let to spectators, and generally occupied by a set of young gentlemen +whom Sir Thomas Lawrence always designated as my "body guard." This, +however, had not yet been instituted, and my friend G—— had often to +wait long hours, and even to fight for the privilege of his peculiar +seat, where he rendered himself, I am sorry to say, not a little +ludicrous, and not seldom rather obnoxious to everybody in his vicinity, +by the vehement demonstrations of his enthusiasm—his frantic cries of +"bravo," his furious applause, and his irrepressible exclamations of +ecstasy and agony during the whole play. He became as familiar to the +public as the stage lamps themselves, and some of his immediate +neighbors complained rather <a name="Page_198" id="Page_198" ></a><span class="pagenum">[198]</span>bitterly of the incessant din and clatter of +his approbation, and the bruises, thumps, contusions, and constant fears +which his lively sentiments inflicted upon them. This <i>fanatico</i> of +mine, walking home from the theater one night with two other like-minded +individuals, indulged himself in obstreperous abuse of poor Mr. Abbot, +in which he was heartily joined by his companions. Toward Cavendish +Square the broad, quiet streets rang with the uproarious mirth with +which they recapitulated his "damnable faces," "strange postures," +uncouth gestures, and ungainly deportment; imitation followed imitation +of the poor actor's peculiar declamation, and the night became noisy +with the shouts of mingled derision and execration of his critics; when +suddenly, as they came to a gas-light at the corner of a crossing, a +solitary figure which had been preceding them, without possibility of +escape, down the long avenue of Harley Street, where G—— lived, turned +abruptly round, and confronted them with Mr. Abbot's unimpressive +countenance. "Gentlemen," he said, "no one can be more aware than myself +of the defects of my performance of Romeo, no one more conscious of its +entire unworthiness of Miss Kemble's Juliet; but all I can say is, that +I do not act the part by my own choice, and shall be delighted to resign +it to either of you who may feel more capable than I am of doing it +justice." The young gentlemen, though admiring me "not wisely, but too +well," were good-hearted fellows, and were struck with the manly and +moderate tone of Mr. Abbot's rebuke, and shocked at having +unintentionally wounded the feelings of a person who (except as Romeo), +was every way deserving of their respect. Of course they could not +swallow all their foolish words, and Abbot bowed and was gone before +they could stutter an apology. I have no doubt that his next appearance +as Romeo was hailed with some very cordial, remorseful applause, +addressed to him personally as some relief to their feelings, by my +indiscreet partisans. My friend G——, not very long after this +theatrical passion of his, became what is sometimes called "religious," +and had thoughts of going into the Church, and giving up the play-house. +He confided to my mother, who was his mother's intimate friend, and of +whom he was very fond, his conscientious scruples, which she in no wise +combated; though she probably thought more moderation in going to the +theater, and a little more self-control when there, might not, in any +event, be undesirable changes in his practice, whether his taking holy +orders cut him off entirely from what was then his principal pleasure, +or not. One night, when the venerable Prebend of <a name="Page_199" id="Page_199" ></a><span class="pagenum">[199]</span>St. Paul's, her old +friend, Dr. Hughes, was in her box with her, witnessing my performance +(which my mother never failed to attend), she pointed out G——, +<i>scrimmaging</i> about, as usual, in his wonted place in the pit, and said, +"There is a poor lad who is terribly disturbed in his own mind about the +very thing he is doing at this moment. He is thinking of going into the +Church, and more than half believes that he ought to give up coming to +the play." "That depends, I should say," replied dear old Dr. Hughes, +"upon his own conviction in the matter, and nothing else; meantime, pray +give him my compliments, and tell him <i>I</i> have enjoyed the performance +to-night extremely."</p> + +<p>Mr. Abbot was in truth not a bad actor, though a perfectly uninteresting +one in tragedy; he had a good figure, face, and voice, the carriage and +appearance of a well-bred person, and, in what is called genteel comedy, +precisely the air and manner which it is most difficult to assume, that +of a gentleman. He had been in the army, and had left it for the stage, +where his performances were always respectable, though seldom anything +more. Wanting passion and expression in tragedy, he naturally resorted +to vehemence to supply their place, and was exaggerated and violent from +the absence of all dramatic feeling and imagination. Moreover, in +moments of powerful emotion he was apt to become unsteady on his legs, +and always filled me with terror lest in some of his headlong runs and +rushes about the stage he should lose his balance and fall; as indeed he +once did, to my unspeakable distress, in the play of "The Grecian +Daughter," in which he enacted my husband, Phocion, and flying to +embrace me, after a period of painful and eventful separation, he +completely overbalanced himself, and swinging round with me in his arms, +we both came to the ground together. "Oh, Mr. Abbot!" was all I could +ejaculate; he, poor man, literally pale green with dismay, picked me up +in profound silence, and the audience kindly covered our confusion, and +comforted us by vehement applause, not, indeed, unmixed with laughter. +But my friends and admirers were none the more his after that exploit; +and I remained in mortal dread of his stage embraces for ever after, +steadying myself carefully on my feet, and bracing my whole figure to +"stand fast," whenever he made the smallest affectionate approach toward +me. It is not often that such a piece of awkwardness as this is +perpetrated on the stage, but dramatic heroines are nevertheless liable +to sundry disagreeable difficulties of a very unromantic nature. If a +gentleman in a ball-room places his hand round a lady's waist to waltz +with her, she can, without any shock to the "situa<a name="Page_200" id="Page_200" ></a><span class="pagenum">[200]</span>tion," beg him to +release the end spray of her flowery garland, or the floating ribbons of +her head-dress, which he may have imprisoned; but in the middle of a +scene of tragedy grief or horror, of the unreality of which, by dint of +the effort of your imagination, you are no longer conscious, to be +obliged to say, in your distraction, to your distracted partner in woe, +"Please lift your arm from my waist, you are pulling my head down +backwards," is a distraction, too, of its kind.</p> + +<p>The only occasion on which I ever acted Juliet to a Romeo who looked the +part was one when Miss Ellen Tree sustained it. The acting of Romeo, or +any other man's part by a woman (in spite of Mrs. Siddons's Hamlet), is, +in my judgment, contrary to every artistic and perhaps natural +propriety, but I cannot deny that the stature "more than common tall," +and the beautiful face, of which the fine features were too marked in +their classical regularity to look feeble or even effeminate, of my fair +female lover made her physically an appropriate representative of Romeo. +Miss Ellen Tree looked beautiful and not unmanly in the part; she was +broad-shouldered as well as tall, and her long limbs had the fine +proportions of the huntress Diana; altogether, she made a very "pretty +fellow," as the saying was formerly, as all who saw her in her graceful +performance of Talfourd's "Ion" will testify; but assumption of that +character, which in its ideal classical purity is almost without sex, +was less open to objection than that of the fighting young Veronese +noble of the fourteenth century. She fenced very well, however, and +acquitted herself quite manfully in her duel with Tybalt; the only hitch +in the usual "business" of the part was between herself and me, and I do +not imagine the public, for one night, were much aggrieved by the +omission of the usual clap-trap performance (part of Garrick's +interpolation, which indeed belongs to the original story, but which +Shakespeare's true poet's sense had discarded) of Romeo's plucking +Juliet up from her bier and rushing with her, still stiff and motionless +in her death-trance, down to the foot-lights. This feat Miss Tree +insisted upon attempting with me, and I as stoutly resisted all her +entreaties to let her do so. I was a very slender-looking girl, but very +heavy for all that. (A friend of mine, on my first voyage to America, +lifting me from a small height, set me down upon the deck, exclaiming, +"Oh, you solid little lady!" and my cousin, John Mason, the first time +he acted Romeo with me, though a very powerful, muscular young man, +whispered to me as he carried my corpse down the stage with a fine +semblance of frenzy, "Jove, Fanny, you are a lift!") <a name="Page_201" id="Page_201" ></a><span class="pagenum">[201]</span>Finding that all +argument and remonstrance was unavailing, and that Miss Tree, though by +no means other than a good friend and fellow-worker of mine, was bent +upon performing this gymnastic feat, I said at last, "If you attempt to +lift or carry me down the stage, I will kick and scream till you set me +down," which ended the controversy. I do not know whether she believed +me, but she did not venture upon the experiment.</p> + +<p>I am reminded by this recollection of my pleasant professional +fellowship with Miss Ellen Tree of a curious instance of the +unprincipled, flagrant recklessness with which scandalous gossip is +received and circulated in what calls itself the best English society.</p> + +<p>In Mr. Charles Greville's "Memoirs," he makes a statement that Miss Tree +was never engaged at Covent Garden. The play-bills and the newspapers of +the day abundantly contradicted this assertion (at the time he entered +it in his diary), and, of course, the discreditable motive assigned for +the <i>fact</i>.</p> + +<p>I cannot help thinking that, had Mr. Greville lived, much of the +voluminous record he kept of persons and events would have been withheld +from publication. He told me, not long before his death, that he had no +recollection whatever of the contents of the earlier volumes of his MS. +journal which he had lent me to read; and it is infinitely to be +regretted, if he did not look over them before they were published, that +the discretion he exercised (or delegated) in the omission of certain +passages was not allowed to prevail to the exclusion of others. Such +partial omissions would not indeed alter the whole tone and character of +the book, but might have mitigated the shock of painful surprise with +which it was received by the society he described, and by no one more +than some of those who had been on terms of the friendliest intimacy +with him and who had repeatedly heard him assert that his journal would +never be published in the lifetime of any one mentioned in it.</p> + +<p>I consider that I was quite justified in using even this naughty child's +threat to prevent Miss Tree from doing what might very well have ended +in some dangerous and ludicrous accident; nor did I feel at all guilty +toward her of the species of malice prepense which Malibran exhibited +toward Sontag, when they sang in the opera of "Romeo and Juliet," on the +first occasion of their appearing together during their brilliant public +career in England. Malibran's mischievousness partook of the force and +versatility of her extraordinary genius, and having tormented poor +Mademoiselle Sontag with every inconceivable freak and caprice during +the whole rehearsal of the opera, at length, <a name="Page_202" id="Page_202" ></a><span class="pagenum">[202]</span>when requested by her to +say in what part of the stage she intended to fall in the last scene, +she, Malibran, replied that she "really didn't know," that she "really +couldn't tell;" sometimes she "died in one place, sometimes in another, +just as it happened, or the humor took her at the moment." As Sontag was +bound to expire in loving proximity to her, and was, I take it, much +less liable to spontaneous inspiration than her fiery rival, this was by +no means satisfactory. She had nothing like the original genius of the +other woman, but was nevertheless a more perfect artist. Wanting weight +and power and passion for such parts as Norma, Medea, Semiramide, etc., +she was perfect in the tenderer and more pathetic parts of Amina, Lucia +di Lammermoor, Linda di Chamouni; exquisite in the Rosina and Carolina +of the "Barbiere" and "Matrimonio Segreto;" and, in my opinion, quite +unrivaled in her Countess, in the "Nozze," and, indeed, in all rendering +of Mozart's music, to whose peculiar and pre-eminent genius hers seemed +to me in some degree allied, and of whose works she was the only +interpreter I ever heard, gifted alike with the profound German +understanding of music and the enchanting Italian power of rendering it. +Her mode of uttering sound, of putting forth her voice (the test which +all but Italians, or most carefully Italian-trained singers, fail in), +was as purely unteutonic as possible. She was one of the most perfect +singers I ever heard, and suggests to my memory the quaint praise of the +gypsy vocal performance in the ballad of "Johnny Faa"—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"They sang so sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So very <i>complete</i>,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>She was the first Rosina I ever heard who introduced into the scene of +the music-lesson "Rhodes Air," with the famous violin variations, which +she performed by way of a <i>vocalise</i>, to the utter amazement of her +noble music-master, I should think, as well as her audience. +Mademoiselle Nilsson is the only prima donna since her day who has at +all reminded me of Sontag, who was lovely to look at, delightful to +listen to, good, amiable, and charming, and, compared with Malibran, +like the evening star to a comet.</p> + +<p>Defeated by Malibran's viciousness in rehearsing her death-scene, she +resigned herself to the impromptu imposed upon her, and prepared to +follow her Romeo, wherever <i>she</i> might choose to die; but when the +evening came, Malibran contrived to die close to the foot-lights and in +front of the curtain; Sontag of necessity followed, and fell beside her +there; the drop came <a name="Page_203" id="Page_203" ></a><span class="pagenum">[203]</span>down, and there lay the two fair corpses in full +view of the audience, of course unable to rise or move, till a couple of +stage footmen, in red plush breeches, ran in to the rescue, took the +dead Capulet and Montague each by the shoulders, and dragged them off at +the side scenes; the Spanish woman in the heroism of her maliciousness +submitting to this ignominy for the pleasure of subjecting her gentle +German rival to it.</p> + +<p>Madame Malibran was always an object of the greatest interest to me, not +only on account of her extraordinary genius, and great and various +gifts, but because of the many details I heard of her youth from M. de +la Forest, the French consul in New York, who knew her as Marie Garcia, +a wild and wayward but most wonderful girl, under her father's +tyrannical and harsh rule during the time they spent in the United +States. He said that there was not a piece of furniture in their +apartment that had not been thrown by the father at the daughter's head, +in the course of the moral and artistic training he bestowed upon her: +it is perhaps wonderful that success in either direction should have +been the result of such a system; but, upon the whole, the singer seems +to have profited more than the woman from it, as might have been +expected. Garcia was an incomparable artist, actor, and singer (no such +Don Giovanni has ever been heard or seen since), and bestowed upon all +his children the finest musical education that ever made great natural +gifts available to the utmost to their possessors. I suppose it was from +him, too, that Marie derived with her Spanish blood the vehement, +uncontrollable nature of which M. de la Forest told me he had witnessed +such extraordinary exhibitions in her girlhood. He said she would fly +into passions of rage, in which she would set her teeth in the sleeve of +her silk gown, and tear and rend great pieces out of the thick texture +as if it were muslin; a test of the strength of those beautiful teeth, +as well as of the fury of her passion. She then would fall rigid on the +floor, without motion, breath, pulse, or color, though not fainting, in +a sort of catalepsy of rage.</p> + +<p>Her marriage with the old French merchant Malibran was speedily followed +by their separation; he went to France, leaving his divine devil of a +wife in New York, and during his absence she used to write letters to +him, which she frequently showed to M. de la Forest, who was her +intimate friend and adviser, and took a paternal interest in all her +affairs. These epistles often expressed so much cordial kindness and +warmth of feeling toward her husband, that M. de la Forest, who knew her +separation from him to have been entirely her own act and <a name="Page_204" id="Page_204" ></a><span class="pagenum">[204]</span>choice, and +any decent agreement and harmonious life between them absolutely +impossible, was completely puzzled by such professions toward a man with +whom she was determined never to live, and occasionally said to her, +"What do you mean? Do you wish your husband to come here to you? or do +you contemplate going to him? In short, what is your intention in +writing with all this affection to a man from whom you have separated +yourself?" Upon this view of her epistle, which did not appear to have +struck her, M. de la Forest said, she would (instead of rewriting it) +tack on to it, with the most ludicrous inconsistency, a sort of +revocatory codicil, in the shape of a postscript, expressing her decided +desire that her husband should remain where he was, and her own explicit +determination never again to enter into any more intimate relations with +him than were compatible with a correspondence from opposite sides of +the Atlantic, whatever personal regard or affection for him her letter +might appear to express to the contrary notwithstanding.</p> + +<p>To my great regret I only saw her act once, though I heard her sing at +concerts and in private repeatedly. My only personal encounter with her +took place in a curious fashion. My father and myself were acting at +Manchester, and had just finished performing the parts of Mr. and Mrs. +Beverley, one night, in "The Gamester." On our return from the theater, +as I was slowly and in considerable exhaustion following my father up +the hotel stairs, as we reached the landing by our sitting-room, a door +immediately opposite to it flew open, and a lady dressed like +Tilburina's Confidante, all in white muslin, rushed out of it, and fell +upon my father's breast, sobbing out hysterically, "Oh, Mr. Kembel, my +deare, deare Mr. Kembel!" This was Madame Malibran, under the effect of +my father's performance of the Gamester, which she had just witnessed. +"Come, come," quoth my father (who was old enough to have been hers, and +knew her very well), patting her consolingly on the back, "Come now, my +dear Madame Malibran, compose yourself; don't now, Marie, don't, my dear +child!" all which was taking place on the public staircase, while I +looked on in wide-eyed amazement behind. Madame Malibran, having +suffered herself to be led into our room, gradually composed herself, +ate her supper with us, expressed herself with much kind enthusiasm +about my performance, and gave me a word of advice as to not losing any +of my height (of which I had none to spare) by stooping, saying very +amiably that, being at a disadvantage as to her own stature, she had +never <a name="Page_205" id="Page_205" ></a><span class="pagenum">[205]</span>wasted a quarter of an inch of it. This little reflection upon her +own proportions must have been meant as a panacea to my vanity for her +criticism of my deportment. My person was indeed of the shortest; but +she had the figure of a nymph, and was rather above than below middle +height. There was in other respects some likeness between us; she was +certainly not really handsome, but her eyes were magnificent, and her +whole countenance was very striking.</p> + +<p>The first time I ever saw her sister, Madame Viardot, she was sitting +with mine, who introduced me to her; Pauline Viardot continued talking, +now and then, however, stopping to look fixedly at me, and at last +exclaimed, "Mais comme elle ressemble à ma Marie!" and one evening at a +private concert in London, having arrived late, I remained standing by +the folding-doors of the drawing-room, while Lablache finished a song +which he had begun before I came in, at the end of which he came up to +me and said, "You cannot think how you frightened me, when first I saw +you standing in that doorway; you looked so absolutely like Malibran, +que je ne savais en vérité pas ce que c'était." Malibran's appearance +was a memorable event in the whole musical world of Europe, throughout +which her progress from capital to capital was one uninterrupted +triumph; the enthusiasm, as is general in such cases, growing with its +further and wider spread, so that at Venice she was allowed, in spite of +old-established law and custom, to go about in a gold and crimson +gondola, as fine as the Bucentaur itself, instead of the floating +hearses that haunt the sea-paved thoroughfares, and that did not please +her gay and magnificent taste.</p> + +<p>Her <i>début</i> in England was an absolute conquest of the nation; and when +it was shocked by the news of her untimely death, hundreds of those +unsympathetic, unæsthetic, unenthusiastic English people put mourning on +for the wonderfully gifted young woman, snatched away in the midst of +her brilliant career. Madame Malibran composed some charming songs, but +her great reputation derives little of its luster from them,—that great +reputation already a mere tradition.</p> + +<p>At a challenge I would not decline, I ventured upon the following harsh +and ungraceful but literal translation of some of the stanzas from +Alfred de Musset's fine lament for Malibran. My poetical competitor +produced an admirable version of them, and has achieved translations of +other of his verses, as perfect as translations can be; a literary feat +of extraordinary difficulty, with the works of so essentially national a +writer, a genius so peculiarly French, as De Musset.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<a name="Page_206" id="Page_206" ></a><span class="pagenum">[206]</span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, Maria Felicia! the painter and bard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behind them, in dying, leave undying heirs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night of oblivion their memory spares,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their great eager souls, other action debarred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against death, against time, having valiantly warred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though struck down in the strife, claim its trophies as theirs.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In the iron engraved, one his thought leaves enshrined;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a golden-sweet cadence another's entwined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes for ever all those who shall hear it his friends.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though he died, on the canvas lives Raphael's mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from death's darkest doom till this world of ours ends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mother-clasped infant his glory defends.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"As the lamp guards the flame, so the bare, marble halls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the Parthenon keep, in their desolate space,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The memory of Phidias enshrined in their walls.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Praxiteles' child, the young Venus, yet calls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the altar, where, smiling, she still holds her place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The centuries conquered to worship her grace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Thus from age after age, while new life they receive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To rest at God's feet the old glories are gone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the accents of genius their echoes still weave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the great human voice, till their speech is but one.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of thee, dead but yesterday, all thy fame leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a cross in the dim chapel's darkness, alone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A cross and oblivion, silence, and death!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hark! the wind's softest sob; hark! the ocean's deep breath!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hark! the fisher boy singing his way o'er the plains!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy glory, thy hope, thy young beauty's bright wreath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not a trace, not a sigh, not an echo remains."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Those Garcia sisters were among the most remarkable people of their day, +not only for their peculiar high artistic gifts, their admirable musical +and dramatic powers, but for the vivid originality of their genius and +great general cultivation. Malibran danced almost as well as she sang, +and once took a principal part in a ballet. She drew and painted well, +as did her sister Pauline Viardot, whose spirited caricatures of her +friends, and herself were admirable specimens both of likenesses and of +humorous talent in delineating them. Both sisters conversed brilliantly, +speaking fluently four languages, and executed the music of different +nations and composers with a perception of the peculiar character of +each that was extraordinary. They were mistresses of all the different +schools of religious, dramatic, and national compositions, and Gluck, +Jomelli, Pergolesi, Bach, Handel, Haydn, Mozart, Rossini, Bellini, +Scotch and Irish melodies, Neapolitan canzonette, and the popular airs +of their own country, were all rendered by them with equal mastery.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207" ></a><span class="pagenum">[207]</span>To resume my story (which is very like that of the knife-grinder). When +I returned to the stage, many years after I had first appeared on it, I +restored the beautiful end of Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet" as he +wrote it (in spite of Garrick and the original story), thinking it mere +profanation to intrude sharp discords of piercing agony into the divine +harmony of woe with which it closes.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">"Thus with a kiss I die,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>are full enough of bitter-sweet despair for the last chords of that +ineffable, passionate strain—the swoon of sorrow ending that brief, +palpitating ecstasy, the proper, dirge-like close to that triumphant +hymn of love and youth and beauty. All the frantic rushing and tortured +writhing and uproar of noisy anguish of the usual stage ending seemed +utter desecration to me; but Garrick was an actor, the first of actors, +and his death-scene of the lovers and ending of the play is much more +theatrically effective than Shakespeare's.</p> + +<p>The report of my approaching appearance on the stage excited a good deal +of interest among the acquaintances and friends of my family, and +occasioned a renewal of cordial relations which had formerly existed, +but ceased for some time, between Sir Thomas Lawrence and my father and +mother.</p> + +<p>Lawrence's enthusiastic admiration for my uncle John and Mrs. Siddons, +testified by the numerous striking portraits in which he has recorded +their personal beauty and dramatic picturesqueness, led to a most +intimate and close friendship between the great painter and the eminent +actors, and, subsequently, to very painful circumstances, which +estranged him for years from all our family, and forbade all renewal of +the relations between himself and Mrs. Siddons which had been so cruelly +interrupted.</p> + +<p>While frequenting her house upon terms of the most affectionate +intimacy, he proposed to her eldest daughter, my cousin Sarah, and was +accepted by her. Before long, however, he became deeply dejected, moody, +restless, and evidently extremely and unaccountably wretched. Violent +scenes of the most painful emotion, of which the cause was inexplicable +and incomprehensible, took place repeatedly between himself and Mrs. +Siddons, to whom he finally, in a paroxysm of self-abandoned misery, +confessed that he had mistaken his own feelings, and that her younger +daughter, and not the elder, was the real object of his affection, and +ended by imploring permission to <a name="Page_208" id="Page_208" ></a><span class="pagenum">[208]</span>transfer his addresses from the one to +the other sister. How this extraordinary change was accomplished I know +not; but only that it took place, and that Maria Siddons became engaged +to her sister's faithless lover. To neither of them, however was he +destined ever to be united; they were both exceedingly delicate young +women, with a tendency to consumption, which was probably developed and +accelerated in its progress in no small measure by all the bitterness +and complicated difficulties of this disastrous double courtship.</p> + +<p>Maria, the youngest, an exceedingly beautiful girl, died first, and on +her death-bed exacted from her sister a promise that she would never +become Lawrence's wife; the promise was given, and she died, and had not +lain long in her untimely grave when her sister was laid in it beside +her. The death of these two lovely and amiable women broke off all +connection between Sir Thomas Lawrence and my aunt, and from that time +they never saw or had any intercourse with each other.</p> + + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + + +<p>It was years after these events that Lawrence, meeting my father +accidentally in the street one day, stopped him and spoke with great +feeling of his sympathy for us all in my approaching trial, and begged +permission to come and see my mother and become acquainted with me, +which he accordingly did; and from that time till his death, which +occurred but a few months later, he was unwearied in acts of friendly +and affectionate kindness to me. He came repeatedly to consult with my +mother about the disputed point of my dress, and gave his sanction to +her decision upon it. The first dress of Belvidera, I remember, was a +point of nice discussion between them. Plain black velvet and a +lugubrious long vail were considered my only admissible wear, after my +husband's ruin; but before the sale of our furniture, it was conceded +that I might relieve the somber Venetian patrician's black dress with +white satin puffs and crimson linings and rich embroidery of gold and +pearl; moreover, before our bankruptcy, I was allowed (not, however, +without serious demur on the part of Lawrence) to cover my head with a +black hat and white feather, with which, of course, I was enamored, +having never worn anything but my hair on my head before, and feeling an +<a name="Page_209" id="Page_209" ></a><span class="pagenum">[209]</span>unspeakable accession of dignity in this piece of attire. I begged hard +to be allowed to wear it through the tragedy, but this, with some +laughter at my intense desire for it, was forbidden, and I was reduced +after the first scene of the play to my own unadorned locks, which I +think greatly strengthened my feeling of the abject misery into which I +had fallen.</p> + +<p>When in town, Lawrence never omitted one of my performances, always +occupying the stage box, and invariably sending me the next morning a +letter, full of the most detailed and delicate criticism, showing a +minute attention to every inflection of my voice, every gesture, every +attitude, which, combined with expressions of enthusiastic admiration, +with which this discriminating and careful review of my performance +invariably terminated, was as strong a dose of the finest flattery as +could well have been offered to a girl of my age, on the very first step +of her artistic career. I used to read over the last of these remarkable +criticisms, invariably, before going to the theater, in order to profit +by every suggestion of alteration or hint of improvement they contained; +and I was in the act of reperusing the last I ever received from him, +when my father came in and said, "Lawrence is dead."</p> + +<p>I had been sitting to him for some time previously for a pencil sketch, +which he gave my mother; it was his last work, and certainly the most +beautiful of his drawings. He had appointed a day for beginning a +full-length, life-size portrait of me as Juliet, and we had seen him +only a week before his death, and, in the interval, received a note from +him, merely saying he was rather indisposed. His death, which was quite +unexpected, created a very great public sensation, and there was +something sufficiently mysterious about its circumstances to give rise +to a report that he had committed suicide.</p> + +<p>The shock of this event was terrible to me, although I have sometimes +since thought it was fortunate for me rather than otherwise. Sir Thomas +Lawrence's enthusiastically expressed admiration for me, his constant +kindness, his sympathy in my success, and the warm interest he took in +everything that concerned me, might only have inspired me with a +grateful sense of his condescension and goodness. But I was a very +romantic girl, with a most excitable imagination, and such was to me the +melancholy charm of Lawrence's countenance, the elegant distinction of +his person, and exquisite refined gentleness of his voice and manner, +that a very dangerous fascination was added to my sense of gratitude for +all his personal kindness to me, and my admiration for his genius; and I +think it not at <a name="Page_210" id="Page_210" ></a><span class="pagenum">[210]</span>all unlikely that, had our intercourse continued, and +had I sat to him for the projected portrait of Juliet, in spite of the +forty years' difference in our ages, and my knowledge of his disastrous +relations with my cousins, I should have become in love with him myself, +and been the fourth member of our family whose life he would have +disturbed and embittered. His sentimentality was of a peculiar +mischievous order, as it not only induced women to fall in love with +him, but enabled him to persuade himself that he was in love with them, +and apparently with more than one at a time.</p> + +<p>While I was sitting to him for the beautiful sketch he gave my mother, +one or two little incidents occurred that illustrated curiously enough +this superficial pseudo-sensibility of his. On one occasion, when he +spent the evening with us, my mother had made me sing for him; and the +next day, after my sitting, he said in a strange, hesitating, broken +manner, as if struggling to control some strong emotion, "I have a very +great favor to beg of you; the next time I have the honor and pleasure +of spending the evening with you, will you, if Mrs. Kemble does not +disapprove of it, sing this song for me?" He put a piece of music into +my hand, and immediately left us without another word. On our way home +in the carriage, I unrolled the song, the title of which was, "These few +pale Autumn Flowers." "Ha!" said my mother, with, I thought, rather a +peculiar expression, as I read the words; but she added no further +comment. Both words and music were plaintive and pathetic, and had an +original stamp in the melancholy they expressed.</p> + +<p>The next time Lawrence spent the evening with us I sang the song for +him. While I did so, he stood by the piano in a state of profound +abstraction, from which he recovered himself, as if coming back from +very far away, and with an expression of acute pain on his countenance, +he thanked me repeatedly for what he called the great favor I had done +him.</p> + +<p>At the end of my next sitting, when my mother and myself had risen to +take leave of him, he said, "No, don't go yet,—stay a moment,—I want +to show you something—if I can;" and he moved restlessly about, taking +up and putting down his chalks and pencils, and standing, and sitting +down again, as if unable to make up his mind to do what he wished. At +length he went abruptly to an easel, and, removing from it a canvas with +a few slight sketches on it, he discovered behind it the profile +portrait of a lady in a white dress folded simply across her bosom, and +showing her beautiful neck and shoulders. Her head was dressed with a +sort of sibylline turban, and she <a name="Page_211" id="Page_211" ></a><span class="pagenum">[211]</span>supported it upon a most lovely hand +and arm, her elbow resting on a large book, toward which she bent, and +on the pages of which her eyes were fixed, the exquisite eyelid and +lashes hiding the eyes. "Oh, how beautiful! oh, who is it!" exclaimed I. +"A—a lady," stammered Lawrence, turning white and red, "toward +whom—for whom—I entertained the profoundest regard." Thereupon he fled +out of the room. "It is the portrait of Mrs. W——," said my mother; +"she is now dead; she was an exceedingly beautiful and accomplished +woman, the authoress of the words and music of the song Sir Thomas +Lawrence asked you to learn for him."</p> + +<p>The great painter's devotion to this lovely person had been matter of +notoriety in the London world. Strangely enough, but a very short time +ago I discovered that she was the kinswoman of my friend Miss Cobb's +mother, of whom Miss Cobb possessed a miniature, in which the fashion of +dress and style of head-dress were the same as those in the picture I +saw, and in which I also traced some resemblance to the beautiful face +which made so great an impression on me. Not long after this Mrs. +Siddons, dining with us one day, asked my mother how the sketch Lawrence +was making of me was getting on. After my mother's reply, my aunt +remained silent for some time, and then, laying her hand on my father's +arm, said, "Charles, when I die, I wish to be carried to my grave by you +and Lawrence." Lawrence reached his grave while she was yet tottering on +the brink of hers.</p> + +<p>After my next sitting, my mother, thinking he might be gratified by my +aunt's feeling toward him, mentioned her having dined with us. He asked +eagerly of her health, her looks, her words, and my mother telling him +of her speech about him, he threw down his pencil, clasped his hands, +and, with his eyes full of tears and his face convulsed, exclaimed, +"Good God! did she say that?"</p> + +<p>When my likeness was finished, Lawrence showed it to my mother, who, +though she had attended all my sittings, had never seen it till it was +completed. As she stood silently looking at it, he said, "What strikes +you? what do you think?" "It is very like Maria," said my mother, almost +involuntarily, I am sure, for immediately this strange man fell into one +of these paroxysms of emotion, and became so agitated as scarcely to be +able to speak; and at last, with a violent effort, said, "Oh, she is +very like her; she is very like them all!"</p> + +<p>In spite of these emotions which I heard and saw Sir Thomas Lawrence +express, I know positively that at his death a lady, <a name="Page_212" id="Page_212" ></a><span class="pagenum">[212]</span>who had been an +intimate acquaintance of our family for many years, put on widow's weeds +for him, in the full persuasion that had he lived he would have married +her, and that, the mutual regard they entertained for each other +warranted her assuming the deepest mourning for him. Not the least +curious part of the emotional demonstrations I have described, was the +contrast which they formed to Sir Thomas Lawrence's habitual demeanor, +which was polished and refined, but reserved to a degree of coldness, +and as indicative of reticent discretion and imperturbable self-control +as became a man who lived in such high social places, and frequented the +palaces of royalty and the boudoirs of the great rival beauties of the +English aristocracy. On my twentieth birthday, which occurred soon after +my first appearance, Lawrence sent me a magnificent proof-plate of +Reynolds's portrait of my aunt as the "Tragic Muse," beautifully framed, +and with this inscription: "This portrait, by England's greatest +painter, of the noblest subject of his pencil, is presented to her niece +and worthy successor, by her most faithful humble friend and servant, +Lawrence." When my mother saw this, she exclaimed at it, and said, "I am +surprised he ever brought himself to write those words—her 'worthy +successor.'" A few days after, Lawrence begged me to let him have the +print again, as he was not satisfied with the finishing of the frame. It +was sent to him, and when it came back he had effaced the words in which +he had admitted <i>any</i> worthy successor to his "Tragic Muse;" and Mr. +H——, who was at that time his secretary, told me that Lawrence had the +print lying with that inscription in his drawing-room for several days +before sending it to me, and had said to him, "Cover it up; I cannot +bear to look at it."</p> + +<p>One day, at the end of my sitting, Lawrence showed me a lovely portrait +of Mrs. Inchbald, of whom my mother, as we drove home, told me a number +of amusing anecdotes. She was very beautiful, and gifted with original +genius, as her plays and farces and novels (above all, the "Simple +Story") testify; she was not an actress of any special merit, but of +respectable mediocrity. She stuttered habitually, but her delivery was +never impeded by this defect on the stage; a curious circumstance, not +uncommon to persons who have that infirmity, and who can read and recite +without suffering from it, though quite unable to speak fluently. Mrs. +Inchbald was a person of a very remarkable character, lovely, poor, with +unusual mental powers and of irreproachable conduct. Her life was +devoted to the care of some dependent relation, who from sickness was +incapa<a name="Page_213" id="Page_213" ></a><span class="pagenum">[213]</span>ble of self-support. Mrs. Inchbald had a singular uprightness and +unworldliness, and a childlike directness and simplicity of manner, +which, combined with her personal loveliness and halting, broken +utterance, gave to her conversation, which was both humorous and witty, +a most peculiar and comical charm. Once, after traveling all day in a +pouring rain, on alighting at her inn, the coachman, dripping all over +with wet, offered his arm to help her out of the coach, when she +exclaimed, to the great amusement of her fellow-travelers, "Oh, no, no! +y-y-y-you will give me m-m-m-my death of c-c-c-cold; do bring me a-a-a-a +<i>dry</i> man." An aristocratic neighbor of hers, with whom she was slightly +acquainted, driving with his daughter in the vicinity of her very humble +suburban residence, overtook her walking along the road one very hot +day, and, stopping his carriage, asked her to let him have the pleasure +of taking her home; when she instantly declined, with the characteristic +excuse that she had just come from the market gardener's: "And, my lord, +I-I-I have my pocket f-f-full of onions,"—an unsophisticated statement +of facts which made them laugh extremely. At the first reading of one of +her pieces, a certain young lady, with rather a lean, lanky figure, +being proposed to her for the part of the heroine, she indignantly +exclaimed, "No, no, no; I-I-I-I won't have that s-s-s-stick of a girl! +D-d-d-do give me a-a-a girl with <i>bumps!</i>" Coming off the stage one +evening, she was about to sit down by Mrs. Siddons in the green-room, +when suddenly, looking at her magnificent neighbor, she said, "No, I +won't s-s-s-sit by you; you're t-t-t-too handsome!"—in which respect +she certainly need have feared no competition, and less with my aunt +than any one, their style of beauty being so absolutely dissimilar. +Somebody speaking of having oysters for supper, much surprise was +excited by Mrs. Inchbald's saying that she had never eaten one. +Questions and remonstrances, exclamations of astonishment, and earnest +advice to enlarge her experience in that respect, assailed her from the +whole green-room, when she finally delivered herself thus: "Oh no, +indeed! I-I-I-I never, never could! What! e-e-e-eat the eyes and +t-t-t-the nose, the teeth a-a-a-and the toes, the a-a-a-all of a +creature!" She was an enthusiastic admirer of my uncle John, and the +hero of her "Simple Story," Doriforth, is supposed to have been intended +by her as a portrait of him. On one occasion, when she was sitting by +the fireplace in the green-room, waiting to be called upon the stage, +she and Miss Mellon (afterward Mrs. Coutts and Duchess of St Albans) +<a name="Page_214" id="Page_214" ></a><span class="pagenum">[214]</span>were laughingly discussing their male friends and acquaintances from the +matrimonial point of view. My uncle John, who was standing near, +excessively amused, at length jestingly said to Mrs. Inchbald, who had +been comically energetic in her declarations of who she could or would, +or never could or would, have married, "Well, Mrs. Inchbald, would you +have had me?" "Dear heart!" said the stammering beauty, turning her +sweet sunny face up to him, "I'd have j-j-j-jumped at you!"</p> + +<p>One day Lawrence took us, from the room where I generally sat to him, +into a long gallery where were a number of his pictures, and, leading me +by the hand, desired me not to raise my eyes till he told me. On the +word of command I looked up, and found myself standing close to and +immediately underneath, as it were, a colossal figure of Satan. The +sudden shock of finding myself in such proximity to this terrible image +made me burst into nervous tears. Lawrence was greatly distressed at the +result of his experiment, which had been simply to obtain a verdict from +my unprepared impression of the power of his picture. A conversation we +had been having upon the subject of Milton and the character of Satan +had made him think of showing this picture to me. I was too much +agitated to form any judgment of it, but I thought I perceived through +its fierce and tragical expression some trace of my uncle's face and +features, a sort of "more so" of the bitter pride and scornful +melancholy of the banished Roman in the Volscian Hall. Lawrence's +imagination was so filled with the poetical and dramatic suggestions +which he derived from the Kemble brother and sister, that I thought a +likeness of them lurked in this portrait of the Prince of Darkness; and +perhaps he could scarcely have found a better model for his archfiend +than my uncle, to whom his mother occasionally addressed the +characteristic reproof, "Sir, you are as proud as Lucifer!" (He and that +remarkable mother of his must really have been a good deal like +Coriolanus and Volumnia.) To console me for the fright he had given me, +Lawrence took me into his drawing-room—that beautiful apartment filled +with beautiful things, including his magnificent collection of original +drawings by the old masters, and precious gems of old and modern +art—the treasure-house of all the exquisite objects of beauty and +curiosity that he had gathered together during his whole life, and that +(with the exception of Raphael's and Michael Angelo's drawings, now in +the museum at Oxford) were so soon, at his most unexpected death, to be +scattered <a name="Page_215" id="Page_215" ></a><span class="pagenum">[215]</span>abroad and become, in separate, disjointed portions, the +property of a hundred different purchasers. Here, he said, he hoped +often to persuade my father and mother and myself to pass our unengaged +evenings with him; here he should like to make my brother John, of whom +I had spoken enthusiastically to him, free of his art collections; and, +adding that he would write to my mother to fix the day for my first +sitting for Juliet, he put into my hands a copy of the first edition of +Milton's "Paradise Lost." I never entered that room or his house, or saw +him again; he died about ten days after that.</p> + +<p>Lawrence did not talk much while he took his sketch of me, and I +remember very little that passed between him and my mother but what was +purely personal. I recollect he told me that I had a double row of +eyelashes, which was an unusual peculiarity. He expressed the most +decided preference for satin over every other material for painting, +expatiating rapturously on the soft, rich folds and infinitely varied +lights and shadows which that texture afforded above all others. He has +dressed a great many of his female portraits in white satin. He also +once said that he had been haunted at one time with the desire to paint +a blush, that most enchanting "incident" in the expression of a woman's +face, but, after being driven nearly wild with the ineffectual endeavor, +had had to renounce it, never, of course, he said, achieving anything +but a <i>red face</i>. I remember the dreadful impression made upon me by a +story he told my mother of Lady J—— (George the Fourth's Lady J——), +who, standing before her drawing-room looking-glass, and unaware that he +was in the rooms, apostrophized her own reflection with this reflection: +"I swear it would be better to go to hell at once than live to grow old +and ugly."</p> + +<p>Lawrence once said that we never dreamed of ourselves as younger than we +were; that even if our dreams reproduce scenes and people and +circumstances of our youth and childhood we were always represented, by +our sleeping imagination, at our present age. I presume he spoke of his +own experience, and I cannot say that I recollect any instance in mine +that contradicts this theory. It seems curious, if it is true, that in +the manifold freaks of our sleeping fancy self-consciousness should +still exist to a sufficient degree to preserve unaltered one's own +conditions of age and physical appearance. I wonder whether this is +really the common experience of people's dreams? Frederick Maurice told +me a circumstance in curious opposition to this theory of Lawrence's. A +young woman whom he knew, of more than usual mental and moral +endowments, married <a name="Page_216" id="Page_216" ></a><span class="pagenum">[216]</span>a man very much her inferior in mind and character, +and appeared to him to deteriorate gradually but very perceptibly under +his influence. "As the husband is, the wife is," etc. Toward the middle +of her life she told him that at one time she had carried on a double +existence in her sleeping and waking hours, her dreams invariably taking +her back to the home and period of her girlhood, and that she resumed +this dream-life precisely where she left it off, night after night, for +a considerable period of time,—poor thing!—perhaps as long as the +roots of the young nobler self survived below the soil of a baser +present existence. This story seemed to me always very pathetic. It must +have been dismal to lose that dream life by degrees, as the real one ate +more and more into her nature.</p> + +<p>Of Lawrence's merit as a painter an unduly favorable estimate was taken +during his life, and since his death his reputation has suffered an +undue depreciation. Much that he did partook of the false and bad style +which, from the deeper source of degraded morality, spread a taint over +all matters of art and taste, under the vicious influence of the "first +gentleman of Europe," whose own artistic preferences bore witness, quite +as much as the more serious events of his life, how little he deserved +the name. Hideous Chinese pagoda pavilions, with grotesque and monstrous +decorations, barbarous alike in form and in color; mean and ugly +low-roomed royal palaces, without either magnificence or simplicity; +military costumes, in which gold and silver lace were plastered together +on the same uniform, testified to the perverted perception of beauty and +fitness which presided in the court of George the Fourth. Lawrence's own +portrait of him, with his corpulent body girthed in his stays and +creaseless coat, and his heavy falling cheek supported by his stiff +stock, with his dancing-master's leg and his frizzled barber's-block +head, comes as near a caricature as a flattered likeness of the original +(which was a caricature) dares to do. To have had to paint that was +enough to have vulgarized any pencil. The defect of many of Lawrence's +female portraits was a sort of artificial, sentimental <i>elegantism</i>. +Pictures of the fine ladies of that day they undoubtedly were; pictures +of <i>great</i> ladies, never; and, in looking at them, one sighed for the +exquisite simple grace and unaffected dignity of Reynolds's and +Gainsborough's noble and gentle women.</p> + +<p>The lovely head of Lady Nugent, the fine portrait I have mentioned of +Mrs. W——, the splendid one of Lady Hatherton, and the noble picture of +my grandmother, are among the best productions of Lawrence's pencil; and +several of his <a name="Page_217" id="Page_217" ></a><span class="pagenum">[217]</span>men's portraits are in a robust and simple style of art +worthy of the highest admiration. His likeness of Canning (which, by the +bye, might have passed for his own, so great was his resemblance to the +brilliant statesman) and the fine portrait he painted for Lord Aberdeen, +of my uncle John, are excellent specimens of his best work. He had a +remarkable gift of producing likenesses at once striking and favorable, +and of always seizing the finest expression of which a face was capable; +and none could ever complain that Lawrence had not done justice to the +very best look they ever wore. Lawrence's want of conscience with regard +to the pictures which he undertook and never finished, is difficult to +account for by any plausible explanation. The fact is notorious, that in +various instances, after receiving the price of a portrait, and +beginning it, he procrastinated, and delayed, and postponed the +completion, until, in more than one case, the blooming beauty sketched +upon his canvas had grown faded and wrinkled before the image of her +youthful loveliness had been completed.</p> + +<p>The renewal of intercourse between Lawrence and my parents, so soon to +be terminated by his death, was the cause to me of a loss which I shall +never cease to regret. My father had had in his library for years +(indeed, as long as I remember) a large volume of fine engravings of the +masterpieces of the great Italian painters, and this precious book of +art we were occasionally allowed to look at for an hour of rare delight; +but it belonged to Sir Thomas Lawrence, and had accidentally been kept +for this long space of time in my father's possession. One of my +mother's first acts, on again entering into friendly relations with +Lawrence, was to restore this piece of property to him; a precipitate +act of honesty which I could not help deploring, especially when, so +soon after this deed of rash restitution, his death brought those +beautiful engravings, with all the rest of his property, to the hammer.</p> + +<p>There is no early impression stronger in my mind than that of some of +those masterpieces, which, together with Winckelmann's fine work on +classical art (our familiarity with which I have elsewhere alluded to), +were among the first influences of the sort which I experienced. Nor can +I ever be too grateful that, restricted as were my parents' means of +developing in us the highest culture, they were still such as, combined +with their own excellent taste and judgment, preserved us from that +which is far worse than ignorance, a liking for anything vulgar or +trivial. That which was merely pretty, in music, painting, or poetry, +was never placed on the same level in our admiration with that <a name="Page_218" id="Page_218" ></a><span class="pagenum">[218]</span>which was +fine; and though, from nature as well as training, we enjoyed with great +zest every thing that could in any sense be called good, our enthusiasm +was always reserved for that which was best, an incalculable advantage +in the formation of a fine taste and critical judgment. A noble ideal +beauty was what we were taught to consider the proper object and result +of all art. In their especial vocation this tendency caused my family to +be accused of formalism and artificial pedantry; and the so-called +"classical" school of acting, to which they belonged, has frequently +since their time been unfavorably compared with what, by way of +contrast, has been termed the realistic or natural style of art. I do +not care to discuss the question, but am thankful that my education +preserved me from accepting mere imitation of nature as art, on the +stage or in the picture gallery; and that, without destroying my delight +in any kind of beauty, it taught me a decided preference for that which +was highest and noblest.</p> + +<p>All being in due preparation for my coming out, my rehearsals were the +only interruption to my usual habits of occupation, which I pursued very +steadily in spite of my impending trial. On the day of my first +appearance I had no rehearsal, for fear of over-fatigue, and spent my +morning as usual, in practicing the piano, walking in the inclosure of +St. James's Park opposite our house, and reading in "Blunt's Scripture +Characters" (a book in which I was then deeply interested) the chapters +relating to St. Peter and Jacob. I do not know whether the nervous +tension which I must have been enduring strengthened the impression made +upon me by what I read, but I remember being quite absorbed by it, which +I think was curious, because certainly such subjects of meditation were +hardly allied to the painful undertaking so immediately pressing upon +me. But I believe I felt imperatively the necessity of moderating my own +strong nervous emotion and excitement by the fulfillment of my +accustomed duties and pursuits, and above all by withdrawing my mind +into higher and serener regions of thought, as a respite and relief from +the pressure of my alternate apprehensions of failure and hopes of +success. I do not mean that it was at all a matter of deliberate +calculation or reflection, but rather an instinct of self-preservation, +which actuated me: a powerful instinct which has struggled and partially +prevailed throughout my whole life against the irregular and passionate +vehemence of my temperament, and which, in spite of a constant tendency +to violent excitement of mind and feeling, has made me a person of +unusually systematic pursuits and monotonous habits, <a name="Page_219" id="Page_219" ></a><span class="pagenum">[219]</span>and been a frequent +subject of astonishment, not unmixed with ridicule, to my friends, who +have not known as well as myself what wholesomeness there was in the +method of my madness. And I am persuaded that religion and reason alike +justify such a strong instinctive action in natures which derive a +constant moral support, like that of the unobserved but all-sustaining +pressure of the atmosphere, from the soothing and restraining influence +of systematic habits of monotonous regularity. Amid infinite anguish and +errors, existence may preserve a species of outward symmetry and harmony +from this strong band of minute observance keeping down and assisting +the mind to master elements of moral and mental discord and disorder, +for the due control of which the daily and hourly subjection to +recurring rules is an invaluable auxiliary to higher influences. The +external practice does not supply but powerfully supplements the +internal principle of self-control.</p> + +<p>My mother, who had left the stage for upward of twenty years, determined +to return to it on the night of my first appearance, that I might have +the comfort and support of her being with me in my trial. We drove to +the theater very early, indeed while the late autumn sunlight yet +lingered in the sky; it shone into the carriage, upon me, and as I +screened my eyes from it, my mother said, "Heaven smiles on you, my +child." My poor mother went to her dressing-room to get herself ready, +and did not return to me for fear of increasing my agitation by her own. +My dear aunt Dall and my maid and the theater dresser performed my +toilet for me, and at length I was placed in a chair, with my satin +train carefully laid over the back of it; and there I sat, ready for +execution, with the palms of my hands pressed convulsively together, and +the tears I in vain endeavored to repress welling up into my eyes and +brimming slowly over, down my rouged cheeks—upon which my aunt, with a +smile full of pity, renewed the color as often as these heavy drops made +unsightly streaks in it. Once and again my father came to the door, and +I heard his anxious "How is she?" to which my aunt answered, sending him +away with words of comforting cheer. At last, "Miss Kemble called for +the stage, ma'am!" accompanied with a brisk tap at the door, started me +upright on my feet, and I was led round to the side scene opposite to +the one from which I saw my mother advance on the stage; and while the +uproar of her reception filled me with terror, dear old Mrs. Davenport, +my nurse, and dear Mr. Keely, her Peter, and half the <i>dramatis personæ</i> +of the play (but not my father, who had retreated, quite unable to +en<a name="Page_220" id="Page_220" ></a><span class="pagenum">[220]</span>dure the scene) stood round me as I lay, all but insensible, in my +aunt's arms. "Courage, courage, dear child! poor thing, poor thing!" +reiterated Mrs. Davenport. "Never mind 'em, Miss Kemble!" urged Keely, +in that irresistibly comical, nervous, lachrymose voice of his, which I +have never since heard without a thrill of anything but comical +association; "never mind 'em! don't think of 'em, any more than if they +were so many rows of cabbages!" "Nurse!" called my mother, and on +waddled Mrs. Davenport, and, turning back, called in her turn, "Juliet!" +My aunt gave me an impulse forward, and I ran straight across the stage, +stunned with the tremendous shout that greeted me, my eyes covered with +mist, and the green baize flooring of the stage feeling as if it rose up +against my feet; but I got hold of my mother, and stood like a terrified +creature at bay, confronting the huge theater full of gazing human +beings. I do not think a word I uttered during this scene could have +been audible; in the next, the ball-room, I began to forget myself; in +the following one, the balcony scene, I had done so, and, for aught I +knew, I was Juliet; the passion I was uttering sending hot waves of +blushes all over my neck and shoulders, while the poetry sounded like +music to me as I spoke it, with no consciousness of anything before me, +utterly transported into the imaginary existence of the play. After +this, I did not return into myself till all was over, and amid a +tumultuous storm of applause, congratulation, tears, embraces, and a +general joyous explosion of unutterable relief at the fortunate +termination of my attempt, we went home. And so my life was determined, +and I devoted myself to an avocation which I never liked or honored, and +about the very nature of which I have never been able to come to any +decided opinion. It is in vain that the undoubted specific gifts of +great actors and actresses suggest that all gifts are given for rightful +exercise, and not suppression; in vain that Shakespeare's plays urge +their imperative claim to the most perfect illustration they can receive +from histrionic interpretation: a <i>business</i> which is incessant +excitement and factitious emotion seems to me unworthy of a man; a +business which is public exhibition, unworthy of a woman.</p> + +<p>At four different periods of my life I have been constrained by +circumstances to maintain myself by the exercise of my dramatic faculty; +latterly, it is true, in a less painful and distasteful manner, by +reading, instead of acting. But though I have never, I trust, been +ungrateful for the power of thus helping myself and others, or forgetful +of the obligation I was <a name="Page_221" id="Page_221" ></a><span class="pagenum">[221]</span>under to do my appointed work conscientiously in +every respect, or unmindful of the precious good regard of so many kind +hearts that it has won for me; though I have never lost one iota of my +own intense delight in the act of rendering Shakespeare's creations; yet +neither have I ever presented myself before an audience without a +shrinking feeling of reluctance, or withdrawn from their presence +without thinking the excitement I had undergone unhealthy, and the +personal exhibition odious.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, I sat me down to supper that night with my poor, rejoicing +parents well content, God knows! with the issue of my trial; and still +better pleased with a lovely little Geneva watch, the first I had ever +possessed, all encrusted with gold work and jewels, which my father laid +by my plate and I immediately christened Romeo, and went, a blissful +girl, to sleep with it under my pillow.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Buckingham Gate, James Street</span>, December 14th.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dearest</span> ——, +</p> + +<p>I received your letter this morning, before I was out of my room, +and very glad I was to get it. You would have heard from me again +ere this, had it not been that, in your present anxious state of +mind respecting your brother, I did not like to demand your +attention for my proceedings. My trial is over, and, thank heaven! +most fortunately. Our most sanguine wishes could hardly have gone +beyond the result, and at the same time that I hail my success as a +source of great happiness to my dear father and mother, I almost +venture to hope that the interest which has been excited in the +public may tend to revive once more the decaying dramatic art. You +say it is a very fascinating occupation; perhaps it is, though it +does not appear to me so, and I think it carries with it drawbacks +enough to operate as an antidote to the vanity and love of +admiration which it can hardly fail to foster. The mere embodying +of the exquisite ideals of poetry is a great enjoyment, but after +that, or rather <i>for</i> that, comes in ours, as in all arts, the +mechanical process, the labor, the refining, the controlling the +very feeling one has, in order to manifest it in the best way to +the perception of others; and when all, that intense feeling and +careful work can accomplish, is done, an actor must often see those +points of his performance which are most worthy of approbation +overlooked, and others, perhaps crude in taste or less true in +feeling, commended; which must tend much, I think, to sober the +mind as to the value of applause. Above <a name="Page_222" id="Page_222" ></a><span class="pagenum">[222]</span>all, the constant +consciousness of the immeasurable distance between a fine +conception and the best execution of it, must in acting, as in all +art, be a powerful check to vanity and self-satisfaction.</p> + +<p>As to the mere excitement proceeding from the public applause of a +theater, I am sure you will believe me when I say I do not think I +shall ever experience it. But should I reckon too much upon my own +steadiness, I have the incessant care and watchfulness of my dear +mother to rely on, and I do rely on it as an invaluable safeguard, +both to the purity and good taste of all that I may do on the +stage, and the quiet and soberness of my mind under all this new +excitement. She has borne all her anxieties wonderfully well, and I +now hope she will reap some repayment for them. My dear father is +very happy; indeed, we have all cause for heartfelt thankfulness +when we think what a light has dawned upon our prospects, lately so +dismal and overcast. My own motto in all this must be, as far as +possible, "Beget a temperance in all things." I trust I shall be +enabled to rule myself by it, and in the firm hope that my endeavor +to do what is right will be favored and assisted, I have committed +myself, nothing doubting, to the stormy sea of life. Dearest H——, +the papers will give you a detailed account of my <i>début</i>; I only +wish to assure you that I have not embraced this course without due +dread of its dangers, and a firm determination to watch, as far as +in me lies, over its effect upon my mind. It is, after all, but +lately, you know, that I have become convinced that fame and +gratified ambition are not the worthiest aims for one's exertions. +With affectionate love, believe me ever your fondly attached</p> + +<p class="signature"><span class="smcap">Fanny</span>.</p> + +<p>I most sincerely hope that your brother's health is improving, and +if we do not meet sooner, I shall now look forward to Dublin as our +<i>point de réunion</i>; that will not be the least of the obligations I +shall owe this happy turn of affairs.</p></div> + +<p>I do not know whence I derived the deep impression I expressed in this +letter of the moral dangers of the life upon which I was entering; +certainly not from my parents, to whom, of course, the idea that actors +and actresses could not be respectable people naturally did not occur, +and who were not troubled, I am sure, as I then was, with a perception +of the more subtle evils of their calling. I had never heard the nature +of it discussed, and was absolutely without experience of it, but the +vapid vacu<a name="Page_223" id="Page_223" ></a><span class="pagenum">[223]</span>ity of the last years of my aunt Siddons's life had made a +profound impression upon me,—her apparent deadness and indifference to +everything, which I attributed (unjustly, perhaps) less to her advanced +age and impaired powers than to what I supposed the withering and drying +influence of the overstimulating atmosphere of emotion, excitement, and +admiration in which she had passed her life; certain it is that such was +my dread of the effect of my profession upon me, that I added an earnest +petition to my daily prayers that I might be defended from the evil +influence I feared it might exercise upon me.</p> + +<p>As for my success, there was, I believe, a genuine element in it, for +puffing can send upward only things that have a buoyant, rising quality +in themselves; but there was also a great feeling of personal sympathy +for my father and mother, of kindly indulgence for my youth, and of +respectful recollection of my uncle and aunt; and a very general desire +that the fine theater where they had exercised their powers should be +rescued, if possible, from its difficulties. All this went to make up a +result of which I had the credit.</p> + +<p>Among my experiences of that nauseous ingredient in theatrical life, +puffery, some have been amusing enough. The last time that I gave public +readings in America, the management of them was undertaken by a worthy, +respectable person, who was not, I think, exceptionally addicted to the +devices and charlatanism which appear almost inseparable from the +business of public exhibition in all its branches. At the end of our +first interview for the purpose of arranging my performances, as he was +taking his leave he said, "Well, ma'am, I think everything is quite in a +nice train. I should say things are in a most favorable state of +preparation; we've a delightful article coming out in the ——." Here he +mentioned a popular periodical. "Ah, indeed?" said I, not quite +apprehending what my friend was aiming at. "Yes, really, ma'am, I should +say first-rate, and I thought perhaps we might induce you to be good +enough to help us a little with it." "Bless me!" said I, more and more +puzzled, "how can I help you?" "Well, ma'am, with a few personal +anecdotes, perhaps, if you would be so kind." "Anecdotes?" said I (with +three points of interrogation). "What do you mean? What about?" "Why, +ma'am" (with a low bow), "about Mrs. Kemble, of course." Now, my worthy +agent's remuneration was to consist of a certain proportion of the +receipts of the readings, and, that being the case, I felt I had no +right absolutely to forbid him all puffing advertisements and decently +legitimate efforts to attract public attention and <a name="Page_224" id="Page_224" ></a><span class="pagenum">[224]</span>interest to +performances by which he was to benefit. At the same time, I also felt +it imperatively necessary that there should be some limit to these +proceedings, if I was to be made a party to them. I therefore told him +that, as his interest was involved in the success of the readings, I +could not forbid his puffing them to some extent, as, if I did, he might +consider himself injured. "But," said I, while refusing the contribution +of any personal anecdotes to his forthcoming article, "take care what +you do in that line, for if you overdo it in the least, I will write an +article, myself, on my readings, showing up all their faults, and +turning them into ridicule as I do not believe any one else either would +or could. So puff just as quietly as you can." I rather think my agent +left me with the same opinion of my competency in business that Mr. +Macready had expressed as to my proficiency in my profession, namely, +that "I did not know the rudiments of it."</p> + +<p>Mr. Mitchell, who from the first took charge of all my readings in +England, and was the very kindest, most considerate, and most courteous +of all managers, on one occasion, complaining bitterly to my sister of +the unreasonable objection I had to all laudatory advertisements of my +readings, said to her, with a voice and countenance of the most rueful +melancholy, and with the most appealing pathos, "Why, you know, ma'am, +it's really dreadful; you know, Mrs. Kemble won't even allow us to say +in the bills, <i>these celebrated readings</i>; and you know, ma'am, it's +really impossible to do with less; indeed it is! Why, ma'am, you know +even Morrison's pills are always advertised as <i>these celebrated +pills!</i>"—an illustration of the hardships of his case which my sister +repeated to me with infinite delight.</p> + +<p>When I saw the shop-windows full of Lawrence's sketch of me, and knew +myself the subject of almost daily newspaper notices; when plates and +saucers were brought to me with small figures of me as Juliet and +Belvidera on them; and finally, when gentlemen showed me lovely +buff-colored neck-handkerchiefs which they had bought, and which had, as +I thought, pretty lilac-colored flowers all over them, which proved on +nearer inspection to be minute copies of Lawrence's head of me, I not +unnaturally, in the fullness of my inexperience, believed in my own +success.</p> + +<p>I have since known more of the manufacture of public enthusiasm and +public triumphs, and, remembering to how many people it was a matter of +vital importance that the public interest should be kept alive in me, +and Covent Garden filled <a name="Page_225" id="Page_225" ></a><span class="pagenum">[225]</span>every night I played, I have become more +skeptical upon the subject.</p> + +<p>Seeing lately a copy of my play of "Francis the First," with (to my +infinite astonishment) "tenth edition" upon it, I said to a friend, "I +suppose this was a bit of bookseller's puffery; or did each edition +consist of three copies?" He replied, "Oh, no, I think not; you have +forgotten the <i>furor</i> there was about you when this came out." At twenty +I believed it <i>all</i>; at sixty-eight I find it difficult to believe <i>any</i> +of it.</p> + +<p>It is certain, however, that I played Juliet upward of a hundred and +twenty times running, with all the irregularity and unevenness and +immature inequality of which I have spoken as characteristics which were +never corrected in my performances. My mother, who never missed one of +them, would sometimes come down from her box and, folding me in her +arms, say only the very satisfactory words, "Beautiful, my dear!" Quite +as often, if not oftener, the verdict was, "My dear, your performance +was not fit to be seen! I don't know how you ever contrived to do the +part decently; it must have been by some knack or trick which you appear +to have entirely lost the secret of; you had better give the whole thing +up at once than go on doing it so disgracefully ill." This was awful, +and made my heart sink down into my shoes, whatever might have been the +fervor of applause with which the audience had greeted my performance.</p> + +<p>My life now became settled in its new shape. I acted regularly three +times a week; I had no rehearsals, since "Romeo and Juliet" went on +during the whole season, and so my mornings were still my own. I always +dined in the middle of the day (and invariably on a mutton-chop, so that +I might have been a Harrow boy, for diet); I was taken by my aunt early +to the theater, and there in my dressing-room sat through the entire +play, when I was not on the stage, with some piece of tapestry or +needlework, with which, during the intervals of my tragic sorrows, I +busied my fingers; my thoughts being occupied with the events of my next +scene and the various effects it demanded. When I was called for the +stage, my aunt came with me, carrying my train, that it might not sweep +the dirty floor behind the scenes; and after spreading it out and +adjusting its folds carefully, as I went on, she remained at the side +scene till I came off again, then gathered it on her arm, and, folding a +shawl around me, escorted me back to my dressing-room and tapestry; and +so my theatrical evenings were passed. My parents would not allow me to +go into the green-room, <a name="Page_226" id="Page_226" ></a><span class="pagenum">[226]</span>where they thought my attention would be +distracted from my business, and where I might occasionally meet with +undesirable associates. My salary was fixed at thirty guineas a week, +and the Saturday after I came out I presented myself for the first and +last time at the treasury of the theater to receive it, and carried it, +clinking, with great triumph, to my mother, the first money I ever +earned.</p> + +<p>It would be difficult to imagine anything more radical than the change +which three weeks had made in the aspect of my whole life. From an +insignificant school-girl, I had suddenly become an object of general +public interest. I was a little lion in society, and the town talk of +the day. Approbation, admiration, adulation, were showered upon me; +every condition of my life had been altered, as by the wand of a fairy. +Instead of the twenty pounds a year which my poor father squeezed out of +his hard-earned income for my allowance, out of which I bought (alas, +with how much difficulty, seeing how many other things I would buy!) my +gloves and shoes, I now had an assured income, as long as my health and +faculties were unimpaired, of at least a thousand a year; and the thirty +guineas a week at Covent Garden, and much larger remuneration during +provincial tours, forever forbade the sense of destitution productive of +the ecstasy with which, only a short time before I came out, I had found +wedged into the bottom of my money drawer in my desk a sovereign that I +had overlooked, and so had sorrowfully concluded myself penniless till +next allowance day. Instead of trudging long distances afoot through the +muddy London streets, when the hire of a hackney-coach was matter of +serious consideration, I had a comfortable and elegant carriage; I was +allowed, at my own earnest request, to take riding lessons, and before +long had a charming horse of my own, and was able to afford the delight +of giving my father one, the use of which I hoped would help to +invigorate and refresh him. The faded, threadbare, turned, and dyed +frocks which were my habitual wear were exchanged for fashionably made +dresses of fresh colors and fine texture, in which I appeared to myself +transfigured. Our door was besieged with visitors, our evenings bespoken +by innumerable invitations; social civilities and courtesies poured in +upon us from every side in an incessant stream; I was sought and petted +and caressed by persons of conventional and real distinction, and every +night that I did not act I might, if my parents had thought it prudent +to let me do so, have passed in all the gayety of the fashionable world +and the great London season. So much cordiality, sympathy, <a name="Page_227" id="Page_227" ></a><span class="pagenum">[227]</span>interest, and +apparent genuine good-will seemed to accompany all these flattering +demonstrations, that it was impossible for me not to be touched and +gratified,—perhaps, too, unduly elated. If I was spoiled and my head +turned, I can only say I think it would have needed a strong head not to +be so; but God knows how pitiful a preparation all this tinsel, sudden +success, and popularity formed for the duties and trials of my +after-life.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + + +<p>Among the persons whom I used to see behind the scenes were two who, for +different reasons, attracted my attention: one was the Earl of W——, +and the other the Rev. A.F. C——. I was presented to Lord and Lady +W—— in society, and visited them more than once at their place near +Manchester. But before I had made Lord W——'s acquaintance, he was an +object of wondering admiration to me, not altogether unmixed with a +slight sense of the ridiculous, only because it passed my comprehension +how any real, live man could be so exactly like the description of a +particular kind of man, in a particular kind of book. There was no fault +to find with the elegance of his appearance and his remarkable good +looks; he certainly was the beau ideal of a dandy,—with his slender, +perfectly dressed figure, his pale complexion, regular features, fine +eyes, and dark, glossy waves of hair, and the general aristocratic +distinction of his whole person,—and was so like the Earl of So-and-So, +in the fashionable novel of the day, that I always longed to ask him +what he did at the end of the "third volume," and "whether he or Sir +Reginald married Lady Geraldine." But why this exquisite <i>par +excellence</i> should always have struck me as slightly absurd, I cannot +imagine. The Rev. A.F. C—— was the natural son of William IV. and Mrs. +Jordan, and vicar of Maple Durham; when first I came out, this young +gentleman attended every one of my performances, first in one of the +stage boxes and afterward in a still nearer position to the stage, one +of the orchestra reserved seats. Thence, one night, he disappeared, and, +to my surprise, I saw him standing at one of the side scenes during the +whole play. My mother remarking at supper his non-attendance in his +usual place, my father said that he had come to him at the beginning of +the play, and asked, for his mother's sake, to be allowed oc<a name="Page_228" id="Page_228" ></a><span class="pagenum">[228]</span>casionally +to present himself behind the scenes. My father said this reference to +Mrs. Jordan had induced him to grant the request so put, though he did +not think the back of the scenes a very proper haunt for a gentleman of +his cloth. There, however, Mr. F. C—— came, and evening after evening +I saw his light kid gloves waving and gesticulating about, following in +a sort of sympathetic dumb show the gradual development of my distress, +to the end of the play. My father, at his request, presented him to me, +but as I never remained behind the scenes or went into the green-room, +and as he could not very well follow me upon the stage, our intercourse +was limited to silent bows and courtesies, as I went on and off, to my +palace in Verona, or from Friar Laurence's cell. Mr. F. C—— appeared +to me to have slightly mistaken his vocation: that others had done so +for him was made more manifest to me by my subsequent acquaintance with +him. I encountered him one evening at a very gay ball given by the +Countess de S——. Almost as soon as I came into the room he rushed at +me, exclaiming, "Oh, do come and dance with me, that's a dear good +girl." The "dear good girl" had not the slightest objection to dancing +with anybody, dancing being then my predominant passion, and a chair a +perfectly satisfactory partner if none other could be come by. While +dancing, I was unpleasantly struck with the decidedly unreverend tone of +my partner's remarks. Clergymen danced in those days without reproach, +but I hope that even in those days of dancing clerks they did not often +talk so very much to match the tripping of the light fantastic toe. My +amazement reached its climax when, seeing me exchange signs of amicable +familiarity with some one across the room, Mr. F. C—— said, "Who are +you nodding and smiling to? Oh, your father. You are very fond of him, +ain't you?" To my enthusiastic reply in the affirmative, he said, "Ah, +yes; just so. I dare say you are." And then followed an expression of +his filial disrespect for the highest personage in the realm, of such a +robust significance as fairly took away my breath. Surprised into a +momentary doubt of my partner's sobriety, I could only say, "Mr. F. +C——, if you do not change your style of conversation I must sit down +and leave you to finish the dance alone." He confounded himself in +repeated apologies and entreaties that I would finish the dance with +him, and as I could not find a word to say to him, he went on eagerly to +excuse himself by a short sketch of his life, telling me that he had not +been bred to the Church and had the greatest disinclination to taking +orders; that he had been trained as <a name="Page_229" id="Page_229" ></a><span class="pagenum">[229]</span>a sailor, the navy being the career +that he preferred above all others, but that in consequence of the death +of a brother he had been literally taken from on board ship, and, in +spite of the utmost reluctance on his part, compelled to go into the +Church. "Don't you think it's a hard case?" reiterated he, as I still +found it difficult to express my opinion either of him or of his "case," +both appearing to me equally deplorable. At length I suggested that, +since he had adopted the sacred calling he professed, perhaps it would +be better if he conformed to it at least by outward decency of language +and decorum of demeanor. To this he assented, adding with a sigh, "But, +you see, some people have a natural turn for religion; you have, for +instance, I'm sure; but you see I have not." This appeared to me +incontrovertible. Presently, after a pause, he asked me if I would write +a sermon for him, which tribute to my talent for preaching, of which he +had just undergone a sample, sent me into fits of laughter, though I +replied with some indignation, "Certainly not; I am not a proper person +to write sermons, and you ought to write your own!" "Yes," said he, with +rather touching humility, "but you see I can't,—not good ones, at +least. I'm sure you could, and I wish you would write one for me; Mrs. +N—— has." This statement terminated the singular conversation, which +had been the accompaniment to a quadrille. The vicar of Maple Durham is +dead; had he lived he would doubtless have become a bishop; his family +had already furnished its contingent to the army and navy, in Lord E. +and Lord A.F. C——, and the living of Maple Durham had to be filled and +he to be provided for; and whenever the virtues of the Established +Church system are under discussion, I try to forget this, and one or two +similar instances I have known of its vices as it existed in those days. +But that was near "fifty years since," and such a story as that of my +poor sailor-parson friend could hardly be told now. Nor could one often +now in any part of England find the fellow of my friend H. D——, who +was also the predestined incumbent of a family living. He was +passionately fond of hunting; and, clinging to his beloved "pink" even +after holy orders had made it rather indecorous wear, used to huddle on +his sacred garments of office at week-day solemnities of marrying or +burying, and, having accomplished his clerical duties, rapidly divest +himself of his holy robes, and bloom forth in unmitigated scarlet and +buckskins, while the temporary cloud of sanctity which had obscured them +was rapidly rolled into the vestry closet.</p> + +<p>I confess to having heard with sincere sympathy the story of <a name="Page_230" id="Page_230" ></a><span class="pagenum">[230]</span>a certain +excellent clergyman of Yorkshire breeding, who, finding it impossible to +relinquish his hunting, carried it on simultaneously with the most exact +and faithful discharge of his clerical duties until, arriving at length +at the high dignity of the archbishopric of York, though neither less +able for, nor less devoted to, his favorite pursuit, thought it +expedient to abandon it and ride to hounds no more. He still rode, +however, harder, farther, faster, and better than most men, but +conscientiously avoided the hunting-field. Coming accidentally, one day, +upon the hounds when they had lost the scent, and trotting briskly away, +after a friendly acknowledgment of the huntsman's salutation, he +presently caught sight of the fox, when, right reverend prelate as he +was, he gave a "view halloo" to be heard half the county over, and fled +in the opposite direction at a full gallop, while the huntsman, in an +ecstasy, cheered on his pack with an exclamation of "That's gospel +truth, if ever I heard it!"</p> + +<p>A.F. C—— was pleasant-looking, though not handsome, like the royal +family of England, whose very noble <i>port de tête</i> he had, with a +charming voice that, my father said, came to him from his mother.</p> + +<p>I have spoken of my being allowed to take riding lessons, and of +purchasing a horse, which was not only an immense pleasure to me, but, I +believe, a very necessary means of health and renovation, in the life of +intense and incessant excitement which I was leading.</p> + +<p>For some time after my first coming out I lost my sleep almost entirely, +and used to lie wide awake the greater part of the night. With more use +of my new profession this nervous wakefulness wore off; but I was +subject to very frequent and severe pains in the side, which any strong +emotion almost invariably brought on, and which were relieved by nothing +but exercise on horseback. The refreshment of this panacea for bodily +and mental ailments was always such to me, that often, returning from +balls where I had danced till daylight, I used to feel that if I could +have an hour's gallop in the fresh morning air, I should be revived +beyond all sleep that I could then get.</p> + +<p>Once only I was allowed to test my theory, and I found that the result +answered my expectations entirely. I had been acting in Boston every +night for a whole week, and on Saturday night had acted in two pieces, +and was to start at one o'clock in the morning for New York, between +which and Boston there was no railroad in those days. I was not feeling +well, and was much exhausted by my hard work, but I was sure that if I +<a name="Page_231" id="Page_231" ></a><span class="pagenum">[231]</span>could only begin my journey on horseback instead of in the lumbering, +rolling, rocking, heavy, straw-and-leather-smelling "Exclusive Extra" +(that is, private stage-coach), I should get over my fatigue and the +rest of the journey with some chance of not being completely knocked up +by it. After much persuasion my father consented, and after the two +pieces of our farewell night, to a crowded, enthusiastic house, all the +excitement of which of course told upon me even more than the actual +exertion of acting, I had some supper, and at one o'clock, with our +friend, Major M——, and ——, got on horseback, and rode out of Boston. +Major M—— rode with us only about three miles, and then turned back, +leaving us to pursue our road to Dedham, seven miles farther, where the +carriage, with my father and aunt, was to meet us.</p> + +<p>The thermometer stood at seventeen degrees below zero; it was the middle +of a Massachusetts winter, and the cold intense. The moon was at the +full, and the night as bright as day; not a stone but was visible on the +iron-hard road, that rang under our horses' hoofs. The whole country was +sheeted with snow, over which the moon threw great floods of yellow +light, while here and there a broken ridge in the smooth, white expanse +turned a sparkling, crystalline edge up to the lovely splendor. It was +wonderfully beautiful and exhilarating, though so cold that my vail was +all frozen over my lips, and we literally hardly dared utter a word for +fear of swallowing scissors and knives in the piercing air, which, +however, was perfectly still and without the slightest breath of wind. +So we rode hard and fast and silently, side by side, through the bright, +profound stillness of the night, and never drew rein till we reached +Dedham, where the carriage with my father and aunt had not yet arrived. +Not a soul was stirring, and not a sound was heard, in the little New +England village; the country tavern was fast shut up; not a light +twinkled from any window, or thread of smoke rose from any chimney; +every house had closed its eyes and ears, and gone to sleep. We had +ridden the whole way as fast as we could, and had kept our blood warm by +the violent exercise, but there was every danger, if we sat many minutes +on our saddles in the piercing cold, that we should be all the worse +instead of the better for that circumstance. Mr. —— rode along the +houses, looking for some possible shelter, and at last, through the +chink of a shutter, spying a feeble glimmer of light, dismounted, and, +knocking, asked if it were possible for me to be admitted there for a +few minutes, till the carriage, which could not be far distant, came up. +He was answered in the affirma<a name="Page_232" id="Page_232" ></a><span class="pagenum">[232]</span>tive, and I jumped down from my saddle, +and ran into the friendly refuge, while he paced rapidly to and fro +before the house, leading the horses, to keep himself and them alike +from freezing; a man was to come on the coach-box with the driver, to +take them back to Boston. On looking round I found myself in a miserable +little low room, heated almost to suffocation by an iron stove, and +stifling with the peculiar smell of black dye-stuffs. Here, by the light +of two wretched bits of candle, two women were working with the utmost +dispatch at mourning-garments for a funeral which was to take place that +day, in a few hours. They did not speak to me after making room for me +near the stove, and the only words they exchanged with each other were +laconic demands for scissors, thread, etc.; and so they rapidly plied +their needles in silence, while I, suddenly transported from the cold +brightness without into this funereal, sweltering atmosphere of what +looked like a Black Hole made of crape and bombazine, watched the +lugubrious occupation of the women as if I was in a dream, till the +distant rumbling of wheels growing more and more distinct, I took leave +of my temporary hostesses with many thanks (they were poor New England +workwomen, by whom no other species of acknowledgment would have been +received), and was presently fast asleep in the corner of the carriage, +and awoke only long after to feel rested and refreshed, and well able to +endure the fatigue of the rest of the journey. In spite of this +fortunate result, I do not now, after a lapse of forty years, think the +experiment one that would have answered with many young women's +constitutions, though there is no sort of doubt that the nervous energy +generated by any pleasurable emotion is in itself a great preservative +from unfavorable influences.</p> + +<p>My riding-master was the best and most popular teacher in +London—Captain Fozzard—or, as he was irreverently called among his +young Amazons, "Old Fozzard." When my mother took me to the riding +school, he recalled, with many compliments, her own proficiency as an +equestrian, and said he would do his best to make me as fine a +horsewoman as she had been. He certainly did his best to improve a very +good seat, and a heavy, defective hand with which nature had endowed me; +the latter, however, was incorrigible, and so, though I was always a +fearless horsewoman, and very steady in my saddle, I never possessed the +finer and more exquisite part of the accomplishment of riding, which +consists in the delicate and skillful management of a horse's mouth. +Fozzard's method was so good that all the best lady riders in London +were his pupils, <a name="Page_233" id="Page_233" ></a><span class="pagenum">[233]</span>and one could tell one of them at a glance, by the +perfect squareness of the shoulders to the horse's head, which was one +invariable result of his teaching. His training was eminently calculated +to produce that result, and to make us all but immovable in our saddles. +Without stirrup, without holding the reins, with our arms behind us, and +as often as not sitting left-sided on the saddle, to go through violent +plunging, rearing, and kicking lessons, and taking our horses over the +bar, was a considerable test of a firm seat, and in all these special +feats I became a proficient.</p> + +<p>One day, when I had gone to the school more for exercise than a lesson, +and was taking a solitary canter in the tan for my own amusement, the +little door under the gallery opened, and Fozzard appeared, introducing +a middle-aged lady and a young girl, who remained standing there while +he advanced toward me, and presently began to put me through all my most +crucial exercises, apparently for their edification. I was always +delighted to go through these particular feats, which amused me +excessively, and in which I took great pride. So I sat through them all, +till, upon a sign from the elder lady, Fozzard, with extreme deference, +opened the door and escorted them forth, and then returning to dismount +me, informed me that I had given a very satisfactory sample of his +teaching to the Duchess of Kent and the Princess Victoria, the latter of +whom was to be placed under his tuition forthwith.</p> + +<p>This was the first time I ever saw the woman who holds the most exalted +position in the world, the Queen of England, who has so filled that +supreme station that her name is respected wherever it is heard abroad, +and that she is regarded by her own people with a loyal love such as no +earthly dignity but that of personal worthiness can command.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">James Street, Buckingham Gate.</span></p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>The kind exertion you made in writing to me so soon after leaving +London deserved an earlier acknowledgment; but when I tell you that +every day since Christmas I have fully purposed writing to you, and +have not been able to do so before to-day, I hope you will excuse +the delay, and believe me when I assure you that not only the +effort you made in going to the theater, but your seeing me at all, +are appreciated by me as very strong marks of your affection for +me.</p> + +<p>Now let me say something to you about Lady C—— L——'s criticism +of my performance. In the first place, nothing is <a name="Page_234" id="Page_234" ></a><span class="pagenum">[234]</span>easier than to +criticise by comparison, and hardly anything much more difficult +than to form a correct judgment of any work of art (be it what it +may) upon the foundation of abstract principles and fundamental +rules of taste and criticism; for this sort of analysis is really a +study. Comparison is the criticism of the multitude, and I almost +wonder at its being resorted to by a woman of such ability as Lady +C——. I only say this by the way, for to be compared with either +Mrs. Siddons or Miss O'Neill is above my expectation. They were +both professional actresses, which I can hardly yet claim to be; +women who had for years studied the mechanical part of their art, +and rendered themselves proficients in their business; while +although I have certainly had many advantages, in hearing the stage +and acting constantly, tastefully, and thoughtfully discussed, I am +totally inexperienced in all the minor technical processes, most +necessary for the due execution of any dramatic conception. As to +my aunt Siddons—look at her, H——; look at her fine person, her +beautiful face; listen to her magnificent voice; and supposing that +I were as highly endowed with poetical dramatic imagination as she +was (which I certainly am not), is it likely that there can ever be +a shadow of comparison between her and myself, even when years may +have corrected all that is at present crude and imperfect in my +efforts?</p> + +<p>This is my sole reply to her ladyship. To you, dearest H——, I can +add that I came upon the stage quite uncertain as to the possession +of any talent for it whatever; I do not think I am now deceived as +to the quantity I can really lay claim to, by the exaggerated +praises of the public, who have been too long deprived of any +female object of special interest on the boards to be very nice +about the first that is presented to them; nor am I unconscious of +the amount of work that will be requisite to turn my abilities to +their best use. Wait; have patience; by and by, I hope, I shall do +better. It is very true that to be the greatest actress of my day +is not the aim on which my happiness depends. But having embraced +this career, I think I ought not to rest satisfied with any degree +of excellence short of what my utmost endeavor will enable me to +attain in it....</p> + +<p>My print, or rather the print of me, from Sir Thomas Lawrence's +drawing, is out. He has promised you one, so I do not. There are +also coming out a series of sketches by Mr. Hayter, from my Juliet, +with a species of <i>avant propos</i> written by Mrs. Jameson; this will +interest you, and I will send you a copy of it when it is +published.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235" ></a><span class="pagenum">[235]</span>I will tell you a circumstance of much anxious hope to us all just +now, but as the result is yet uncertain, do not mention it. We have +a species of offer of a living for my brother John, who, you know, +is going into the Church. This is a consummation devoutly to be +wished, and I most sincerely hope we may not be disappointed. He is +still in Germany, very happy and very metaphysical; should we +obtain this living, however, I suppose he would return immediately. +Independently of my wish to see him again, I shall be glad when he +leaves Germany I think; but I have not time for what I think about +Germany to-day, and you must be rather tired of</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Yours most affectionately,</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p></div> + +<p>Mr. Hayter's graceful sketches of me in Juliet were lithographed and +published with Mrs. Jameson's beautifully written but too flattering +notice of my performance; the original drawings were purchased by Lord +Ellesmere. The second part assigned to me by the theater authorities was +Belvidera, in Otway's "Venice Preserved." I had never read the play +until I learned my part, nor seen it until I acted it. It is, I believe, +one of the longest female parts on the stage. But I had still my +school-girl capacity for committing quickly to memory, and learned it in +three hours. Acting it was a very different matter. I was no longer +sustained by the genius of Shakespeare, no longer stimulated by the +sublime passion and exquisite poetry. Juliet was a reality to me, a +living individual woman, whose nature I could receive, as it were, into +mine at once, without effort, comprehending and expressing it. Belvidera +seemed to me a sort of lay figure in a tragic attitude, a mere, "female +in general," without any peculiar or specific characteristics whatever; +placed as Belvidera is in the midst of sordidly painful and coarsely +agonizing circumstances, there was nothing in the part itself that +affected my feelings or excited my imagination; and the miserable +situations into which the poor creature was thrown throughout the piece +revolted me, and filled me with disgust for the men she had to do with, +without inspiring me with any sympathy for her. In this piece, too, I +came at once into the unfavorable light of full comparison with my +aunt's performance of the part, which was one of her famous ones. A +friend of hers and mine, my dear and excellent William Harness, said +that seeing me was exactly like looking at Mrs. Siddons through the +diminishing end of an opera glass. My personal likeness to her, in spite +of my diminutive <a name="Page_236" id="Page_236" ></a><span class="pagenum">[236]</span>size and irregular features, was striking, and of +course suggested, to those who remembered her, associations which were +fatal to my satisfactory performance of the part. I disliked the play +and the character of Belvidera, and I am sure I must have played it very +indifferently.</p> + +<p>I remember one circumstance connected with my first performance of it +which proved how painfully the unredeemed horror and wretchedness of the +piece acted upon my nerves and imagination. In the last scene, where +poor Belvidera's brain gives way under her despair, and she fancies +herself digging for her husband in the earth, and that she at last +recovers and seizes him, I intended to utter a piercing scream; this I +had not of course rehearsed, not being able to scream deliberately in +cold blood, so that I hardly knew, myself, what manner of utterance I +should find for my madness. But when the evening came, I uttered shriek +after shriek without stopping, and rushing off the stage ran all round +the back of the scenes, and was pursuing my way, perfectly unconscious +of what I was doing, down the stairs that led out into the street, when +I was captured and brought back to my dressing-room and my senses.</p> + +<p>The next piece in which I appeared was Murphy's "Grecian Daughter;" a +feeble and inflated composition, as inferior in point of dramatic and +poetical merit to Otway's "Venice Preserved," as that is to any of +Shakespeare's masterpieces. It has situations of considerable effect, +however, and the sort of parental and conjugal interest that infallibly +strikes sympathetic chords in the <i>pater familias</i> bosom of an English +audience. The choice of the piece had in it, in my opinion, an +ingredient of bad taste, which, objectionable as it seemed to me, had +undoubtedly entered into the calculation of the management, as likely to +increase the effect and success of the play; I mean the constant +reference to Euphrasia's filial devotion, and her heroic and pious +efforts in behalf of her old father—incidents in the piece which were +seized upon and applied to my father and myself by the public, and which +may have perhaps added to the feeling of the audience, as they certainly +increased my dislike for the play. Here, too, I again encountered the +formidable impression which Mrs. Siddons had produced in the part, of +which, in spite of the turbid coldness and stilted emphasis of the +style, she had made a perfect embodiment of heroic grandeur and +classical grace. My Euphrasia was, I am sure, a pitiful picture of an +antique heroine, in spite of Macdonald's enthusiasm for the "attitude" +in the last scene, and my cousin Horace Twiss's comical verdict of +approbation, that <a name="Page_237" id="Page_237" ></a><span class="pagenum">[237]</span>it was all good, but especially the scene where "you +tip it the tyrant."</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">James Street, Buckingham Gate</span>, January 17, 1830.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>Although my mind is much occupied just now with a new part in which +I appear to-morrow, I take advantage of the bodily rest this day +affords me to write you a few lines, which I fear I might not find +time for again as soon as I wish. There was enough in your last +letter, dear H——, to make me melancholy, independently of the +question which you ask respecting my picture in Juliet, and which +the papers have by this time probably answered to you.</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas Lawrence is dead. The event has been most distressing, +and most sudden and unexpected to us. It really seemed as though we +had seen him but the day before we heard of it; and indeed, it was +but a few days since my mother had called on him, and since he had +written to me a long letter on the subject of my Belvidera, full of +refined taste and acute criticism, as all his letters to me were. +It was a great shock; indeed, so much so, that absolute amazement +for a little time prevented my feeing all the regret I have since +experienced about it. Nor was it till I sat down to write to +Cecilia, to request her to prevent any sudden communication of the +event to my aunt Siddons, that I felt it was really true, and found +some relief in crying. I had to act Belvidera that same night, and +it was with a very heavy heart that I repeated those passages in +which poor Sir Thomas Lawrence had pointed out alterations and +suggested improvements. He is a great loss to me, individually. His +criticism was invaluable to me. He was a most attentive observer; +no shade of feeling or slightest variation of action or inflection +of voice escaped him; his suggestions were <i>always</i> improvements, +conveyed with the most lucid clearness; and, as you will easily +believe, his strictures were always sufficiently tempered with +refined flattery to have disarmed the most sensitive self-love. My +Juliet and Belvidera both owe much to him, and in this point of +view alone his loss is irreparable to me. It is some matter of +regret, too, as you may suppose, that we can have no picture of me +by him, but this is a more selfish and less important motive of +sorrow than my loss of his advice in my profession. I understand +that my aunt Siddons was dreadfully shocked by the news, and cried, +"And have I lived to see him go before me!" ... His promise to send +you a print from his drawing of me, dear<a name="Page_238" id="Page_238" ></a><span class="pagenum">[238]</span>est H——, he cannot +perform, but I will be his executor in this instance, and if you +will tell me how it can be conveyed to you, I will send you one.</p> + +<p>This letter, my dearest H——, which was begun on Sunday, I now sit +down to finish on Tuesday evening, and cannot do better, I think, +than give you a full account of our last night's success; for a +very complete success it was, I am happy to say. Murphy's play of +"The Grecian Daughter" I suppose you know; or if you do not, your +state is the more gracious, for certainly anything more flat, poor, +and trashy I cannot well conceive. It had been, you know, a great +part of my aunt Siddons's, and nothing better proves her great +dramatic genius than her having clothed so meager a part in such +magnificent proportions as she gave to it, and filled out by her +own poetical conception the bare skeleton Mr. Murphy's Euphrasia +presented to her. This frightened me a great deal; Juliet and +Belvidera scarcely anybody can do ill, but Euphrasia I thought few +people could do well, and I feared I was not one of them. Moreover, +the language is at once so poor and so bombastic that I took double +the time in getting the part by rote I should have taken for any +part of Shakespeare's. My dress was beautiful; I think I will tell +it you. You know you told me even an account of hat and feathers +would interest you. My skirt was made immensely full and with a +long train; it was of white merino, almost as fine as cashmere, +with a rich gold Grecian border. The drapery which covered my +shoulders (if you wish to look for the sort of costume in +engravings, I give you its classical name, <i>peplum</i>) was made of +the same material beautifully embroidered, leaving my arms quite +free and uncovered. I had on flesh-colored silk gloves, of course. +A bright scarlet sash with heavy gilt acorns, falling to my feet, +scarlet sandals to match, and a beautiful Grecian head-dress in +gold, devised by my mother, completed the whole, which really had a +very classical effect, the fine material of which my dress was +formed falling with every movement into soft, graceful folds.</p> + +<p>I managed to keep a good heart until I heard the flourish of drums +and trumpets, in the midst of which I had to rush on the stage, and +certainly when I did come on my appearance must have been curiously +in contrast with the "prave 'ords" I uttered, for I felt like +nothing but a hunted hare, with my eyes starting from my head, my +"nostrils all wide," and my limbs trembling to such a degree that I +could scarcely stand. The audience received me very kindly, +however, and after a little while I recovered my breath and +self-possession, and got on <a name="Page_239" id="Page_239" ></a><span class="pagenum">[239]</span>very comfortably, considering that, +what with nervousness and the short time they had had to study them +in, none of the actors were perfect in their parts. My father acted +Evander, which added, no doubt, to the interest of the situation. +The play went off admirably, and I dare say it will be of some +service to me, but I fear it is too dull and poor in itself, +despite all that can be done for it, to be of much use to the +theater. One of my great difficulties in the play was to produce +some striking effect after stabbing Dionysius, which was a point in +which my aunt always achieved a great triumph. She used to fall on +her knees as if deprecating the wrath of heaven for what she had +done, and her mode of performing this was described to me. But, +independently of my anxiety to avoid any imitation that might +induce a comparison that could not but be fatally to my +disadvantage, I did not (to you I may venture to confess it) feel +the situation in the same manner. Euphrasia had just preserved her +father's life by a deed which, in her own estimation and that of +her whole nation, entitled her to an immortal dwelling in the +Elysian fields. The only feeling, therefore, that I can conceive as +checking for a moment her exultation would be the natural womanly +horror at the sight of blood and physical suffering, the expression +of which seems to me not only natural to her, as of the "feminine +gender," but not altogether superfluous to reconcile an English +audience to so unfeminine a proceeding as stabbing a man. To +conciliate all this I adopted the course of immediately dropping +the arm that held the dagger, and with the other veiling my eyes +with the drapery of my dress, which answered better my own idea of +the situation, and seemed to produce a great effect. My dearest +H——, this is a long detail, but I think it will interest you and +perhaps amuse your niece; if, however, it wearies your spirits, +tell me so, and another time I will not confine my communications +so much to my own little-corner of life.</p> + +<p>Cecilia dined with us on Sunday, but was very far from well. I have +not seen my aunt Siddons since Sir Thomas Lawrence's death. I +almost dread doing so: she must have felt so much on hearing it; he +was for many years so mixed up with those dearest to her, and his +memory must always recall theirs. I hear Campbell means to write +his life. His letters to me will perhaps be published in it. Had I +known they were likely to be so used, I would have preserved them +all. As it is, it is the merest chance that all of them are not +destroyed; for, admirable as they were in point of taste and +critical judgment, some of them seemed to me such mere specimens of +refined flattery <a name="Page_240" id="Page_240" ></a><span class="pagenum">[240]</span>that, having extracted the advice likely to be +profitable to me, I committed the epistles themselves to the +flames, which probably would have been the ultimate destination of +them all; but now they have acquired a sad value they had not +before, and I shall keep them as relics of a man of great genius +and, in many respects, I believe, a truly amiable person.</p> + +<p>The drawing, which is, you know, my mother's property, is safe in +Mr. Lane's hands, and will be restored to us on Saturday. The +funeral takes place to-morrow; my father, I believe, will attend; +neither my mother nor myself can muster courage to witness it, +although we had places offered to us. It is to take place in St. +Paul's, for Westminster Abbey is full. All the beautiful unfinished +portraits which filled his rooms will be returned imperfect to +their owners, and I wonder who will venture to complete them, for +he has certainly not left his like behind him. Reports have been +widely spread that his circumstances were much embarrassed, but I +fancy when all his effects are sold there will be a small surplus. +He behaved with the utmost liberality about his drawing of me, for +he gave it to my mother, and would not accept of any remuneration +for the copyright of the print from Mr. Lane—who, it is said, made +three hundred pounds by the first impressions taken from it—saying +that he had had so much pleasure in the work that he would not take +a farthing for either time or trouble.</p> + +<p>We are all tolerably well; I am quite so, and rejoice daily in that +strength of constitution which, among other of my qualifications, +entitles me to the appellation of "Shetland pony."</p> + +<p>How are you all? How is E——? Tell her all about me, because it +may amuse her. I wish you could have seen me, dear H——, in my +Greek dress; I really look very well in it, and taller than usual, +in consequence of all the long draperies; moreover, I "stood +grandly" erect, and put off the "sidelong stoop" in favor of a more +heroic and statue-like deportment. Oh, H——, I am exceedingly +happy, <i>et pour peu de chose</i>, perhaps you will think: my father +has given me leave to have riding lessons, so that I shall be in +right earnest "an angel on horseback," and when I come to Ardgillan +(and it won't be long first) I shall make you mount upon a horse +and gallop over the sand with me; won't you, my dear? Believe me +ever your affectionate</p> + +<p class="signature"><span class="smcap">Fanny</span>.</p></div> + +<p>The words in inverted commas at the end of this letter had reference to +some strictures Miss S—— had made upon my <a name="Page_241" id="Page_241" ></a><span class="pagenum">[241]</span>carriage, and to a family +joke against me in consequence of my having once said, in speaking of my +desire to ride, that I should not care to be an angel in heaven unless I +could be an "angel on horseback." My invariable description of a woman +riding was "a happy woman," and after much experience of unhappiness, +certainly not dissipated by equestrian exercise, I still agree with +Wordsworth that "the horse and rider are a happy pair." After acting the +Grecian Daughter for some time I altered my attitude in the last scene, +after the murder of Dionysius, more to my own satisfaction: instead of +dropping the arm that held the dagger by my side, I raised the weapon to +heaven, as if appealing to the gods for justification and tendering +them, as it were, the homage of my deed; of course I still continued to +vail my eyes and turn my head away from the sight of my victim.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">James Street, Buckingham Gate</span>, Saturday, February 20th.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I need hardly apologize to you for my long silence, for I am sure +that you will have understood it to have proceeded from no want of +inclination on my part to answer your last, but from really not +having had half an hour at my command in which to do so. I have +thought, too (although that has not prevented my writing), much +upon the tenor of your letter, and the evident depression it was +written in, and I hardly know how to resolve: whether I ought not +to forbear wearying you with matters which every way are discordant +with your own thoughts and feelings, or whether it is better, by +inducing you to answer me, to give you some motive, however +trifling, for exertion. Dearest H——, if the effort of writing to +me is too painful to you, do not do it. I give you a most +disinterested counsel, for I have told you more than once how much +I prize your letters, and you know it is true. Still, I do not +think my "wish is father to my thought" when I say that I think it +is not good for you to lose entirely even such an interest as I am +to you. I say "even such an interest," because I believe your +trouble must have rendered me and my pursuits, for the present at +least, less likely than they have been to occupy a place in your +thoughts. But 'tis for you to decide; if my letters weary or annoy +you, tell me so, dear H——, and I will not write to you until you +can "follow my paces" better. If you do not like to make the +exertion of answering me, I will still continue to let you know my +proceedings, and take it for granted that you will not cease to +love me and think of me. <a name="Page_242" id="Page_242" ></a><span class="pagenum">[242]</span>Dear H——, I shall see you this summer +again; you, and yours, whom I love for your sake. I shall go on +with this letter, because if you are inclined for a gossip you can +read it; and if not, it may perhaps amuse your invalid. I have been +uncommonly gay, for me, this winter, and I dare say shall continue +to be so, as it does not disagree with me, and I am so fond of +dancing that a quadrille renders palatable what otherwise would be, +I think, disagreeable enough—the manner in which society is now +organized. I was at a very large party the other night, at the poet +Campbell's, where every material for a delightful evening—good +rooms, pretty women, clever men—was brought into requisition to +make what, after all, appeared to me nothing but a wearisome, hot +crowd. The apartments were overfilled: to converse with anybody for +five minutes was impossible. If one stood up one was squeezed to +death, and if one sat down one was stifled. I, too (who was the +small lioness of the evening), was subjected to a most disagreeable +ordeal, the whole night being stared at from head to foot by every +one that could pass within staring distance of me. You probably +will wonder at this circumstance distressing a young person who +three times a week exhibits herself on the stage to several hundred +people, but there I do not distinguish the individual eyes that are +fixed on me, and my mind is diverted from the annoyances of my real +situation by the distressful circumstances of my feigned one. +Moreover, to add to my sorrows, at the beginning of the evening a +lady spilled some coffee over a beautiful dress which I was wearing +for the first time. Now I will tell you what consolations I had to +support me under these trials; first, the self-approving +consciousness of the smiling fortitude with which I bore my gown's +disaster; secondly, a lovely nosegay, which was presented to me; +and lastly, at about twelve o'clock, when the rooms were a little +thinned, a dance for an hour which sent me home perfectly satisfied +with my fate. By the bye, I asked Campbell if he knew any method to +preserve my flowers from fading, to which he replied, "Give them to +me, and I will immortalize them." I did so, and am expecting some +verses from him in return.</p> + +<p>On Thursday next I come out in Mrs. Beverley; I am much afraid of +it. The play wants the indispensable attribute of all works of +art—imagination; it is a most touching story, and Mrs. Beverley is +a most admirable creature, but the story is such as might be read +in a newspaper, and her character has its like in many an English +home. I think the author should have idealized both his incidents +and his heroine a little, to <a name="Page_243" id="Page_243" ></a><span class="pagenum">[243]</span>produce a really fine play. Mrs. +Beverley is not one shade inferior to Imogen in purity, in conjugal +devotion, and in truth, but while the one is to all intents and +purposes a model wife, a poet's touch has made of the other a +divine image of all that is lovely and excellent in woman; and yet, +certainly, Imogen is quite as <i>real</i> a conception as Mrs. Beverley. +The absence of the poetical element in the play prevents my being +enthusiastic about my part, and I am the more nervous about it for +that reason; when I am excited I feel that I can excite others, but +in this case—However, we shall see; I may succeed with it better +than I expect, and perhaps my audience may like to see me as a +quiet, sober lady, after the Belvideras and Juliets and Euphrasias +they have hitherto seen me represent. I will tell you my dress: it +is a silver gray silk, and a white crape hat with drooping +feathers. I think it will be very pretty. My father acts Beverley +with me, which will be a great advantage to me.</p> + +<p>Oh! I must tell you of a delightful adventure which befell me the +other night while I was acting in "The Grecian Daughter." Mr. +Abbot, who personates my husband, Phocion, at a certain part of the +play where we have to embrace, thought fit to clasp me so +energetically in his arms that he threw me down, and fell down +himself. I fell seated, with all my draperies in most modest order, +which was very fortunate, but certainly I never was more frightened +or confused. However, I soon recovered my presence of mind, and +helped my better half on with his part, for he was quite aghast, +poor man, at his own exploit, and I do believe would have been +standing with his eyes and mouth wide open to this moment, if I had +not managed to proceed with the scene somehow and anyhow.</p> + +<p>I gave the commission for your print of me, dear H——, to +Colnaghi, and I hope you will like it, and that the more you look +at it the stronger the likeness will appear to you. Was my brother +John returned from Germany, when last I wrote to you? I forget. +However, he has just left us to take his degree at Cambridge, +previous to being ordained. Henry, too, returned yesterday to +Paris, so that the house is in mourning for its liveliest inmates. +I continue quite well, and indeed I think my work agrees with me; +or if I am a little tired with acting, why, a night's dancing soon +sets me right again. T—— B—— is in town, and came to see me the +other day. I like her; she is a gentle, nice person; she is going +back in a week to Cassiobury. How I wish you and I had wings, and +that Heath Farm belonged to us! It is coming to the time of year +<a name="Page_244" id="Page_244" ></a><span class="pagenum">[244]</span>when we first became acquainted; and, besides all its associations +of kindly feeling and affectionate friendship, your image is +connected in my mind with all the pleasantest things in nature—the +spring, May blossoms, glow-worms, "bright hill and bosky dell;" and +it dates from somewhere "twixt the last violet and the earliest +rose," which is not a quotation, though I have put it in inverted +commas, but something that just came to the tip of my pen and looks +like poetry. I must leave off now, for I got leave to stay at home +to-night to write to you instead of going to the opera, with many +injunctions that I would go to bed early; so, now it is late, I +must do so. Good-by, dearest H——; believe me ever</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Yours most affectionately,</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p> + +<p>P.S.—This is my summer tour—Bath, Edinburgh, Dublin, Liverpool, +Manchester, and Birmingham. I am Miss <i>Fanny</i> Kemble, because Henry +Kemble's daughter, my uncle Stephen's granddaughter, is Miss Kemble +by right of birth.</p></div> + +<p>The lady who spoiled my pretty cream-colored poplin dress by spilling +coffee on the front of it, instantly, in the midst of her vehement +self-upbraidings and humble apologies for her awkwardness, adopted a +very singular method of appeasing my displeasure and soothing my +distress, by deliberately pouring a spoonful of coffee upon the front +breadth of her own velvet gown. My amazement at this proceeding was +excessive, and it neither calmed my wrath nor comforted my sorrow, but +exasperated me with a sense of her extreme folly and her conviction of +mine. The perpetrator of this singular act of atonement was the +beautiful Julia, eldest daughter of the Adjutant-General, Sir John +Macdonald, and the lady whom the Duke of Wellington pronounced the +handsomest woman in London; a verdict which appeared to me too +favorable, though she certainly was one of the handsomest women in +London. An intimate acquaintance subsisted between her family and ours +for several years, and I was indebted to Sir John Macdonald's +assistance, most kindly exerted in my behalf, for the happiness of +giving my youngest brother his commission in the army, which Sir John +enabled me to purchase in his own regiment; and I was indebted to the +great liberality of Mr. John Murray, the celebrated publisher, for the +means of thus providing for my brother Henry. The generous price +(remuneration I dare not call it) which he gave me for my play of +"Francis the First" obtained for me my brother's commission.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">James Street, Buckingham Gate</span>, March 9th.<a name="Page_245" id="Page_245" ></a><span class="pagenum">[245]</span></p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I have been so busy all this day, signing benefit tickets, that I +hardly feel as if I could write anything but "25th March, F. A. K." +Our two last letters crossed on the road, and yours was so kind an +answer to mine, which you had not yet received, that I feel no +further scruple in breaking in upon you with the frivolity of my +worldly occupations and proceedings.</p> + +<p>I was sorry that the newspapers should give you the first account +of my Mrs. Beverley, but my time is so taken up with "an infinite +deal of nothing" that I have not had an hour to call my own till +this evening, and this evening is my only unengaged one for nearly +three weeks to come.</p> + +<p>The papers will probably have set your mind at ease as to the +result of my appearance in "The Gamester;" but although they have +forestalled me in the sum total of the account, there are some +small details which may perhaps interest you, of which they can +give you no knowledge. I shall talk to you much of myself, dearest +H——, and hope it will not weary you; that precious little self is +just now so fully occupied with its own affairs that I have little +else to talk of. [I probably also felt much as our kind and most +comical friend Dessauer used, when he emphatically declared, "Mais, +je m'interesse extrêmement à ce qui me regarde."]</p> + +<p>I do not think I ever spent a more miserable day than the one in +which I acted Mrs. Beverley for the first time. Stage nervousness, +my father and mother both tell me, increases instead of diminishing +with practice; and certainly, as far as my own limited experience +goes, I find it so. The first hazard, I should say, was not half so +fearful as the last; and though on the first night that I ever +stood upon the stage I thought I never could be more frightened in +my life, I find that with each new part my fear has augmented in +proportion as previous success would have rendered it more damaging +to fail. A stumble at starting would have been bad enough, and +might have bruised me; but a fall from the height to which I have +been raised might break my neck, or at any rate cripple me for +life. I do not believe that to fail in a part would make me +individually unhappy for a moment; but so much of real importance +to others, so much of the most serious interests and so much of the +feelings of those most dear to me, is involved in the continuance +of my good fortune, that I am in every way justified in dreading a +failure. These considerations, and their not un<a name="Page_246" id="Page_246" ></a><span class="pagenum">[246]</span>natural result, a +violent headache and side-ache, together with no very great liking +for the part (interesting as it is, it is so perfectly prosaic), +had made me so nervous that the whole of the day was spent in fits +of crying; and when the curtain drew up, and I was "discovered," +I'm sure I must have looked as jaded and tear-worn as poor Mrs. +Beverley ever did. However, all went well with me till the last +act, when my father's acting and my own previous state of +nervousness combined to make my part of the tragedy anything but +feigning; I sobbed so violently that I could hardly articulate my +words, and at the last fell upon the dead body of Beverley with a +hysterical cry that had all the merit of pure nature, if none +other, to recommend it. Fortunately the curtain fell then, and I +was carried to my dressing-room to finish my fit in private. The +last act of that play gives me such pains in my arms and legs, with +sheer nervous distress, that I am ready to drop down with +exhaustion at the end of it; and this reminds me of the very +difficult question which you expect me to answer, respecting the +species of power which is called into play in the act, so called, +of <i>acting</i>.</p> + +<p>I am the worst reasoner, analyzer, and metaphysician that ever was +born; and therefore whatever I say on the subject can be worth very +little, as a reply to your question, but may furnish you with some +data for making a theory about it for yourself.</p> + +<p>It appears to me that the two indispensable elements of fine acting +are a certain amount of poetical imagination and a power of +assumption, which is a good deal the rarer gift of the two; in +addition to these, a sort of vigilant presence of mind is +necessary, which constantly looks after and avoids or removes the +petty obstacles that are perpetually destroying the imaginary +illusion, and reminding one in one's own despite that one is not +really Juliet or Belvidera. The curious part of acting, to me, is +the sort of double process which the mind carries on at once, the +combined operation of one's faculties, so to speak, in +diametrically opposite directions; for instance, in that very last +scene of Mrs. Beverley, while I was half dead with crying in the +midst of the real grief, created by an entirely unreal cause, I +perceived that my tears were falling like rain all over my silk +dress, and spoiling it; and I calculated and measured most +accurately the space that my father would require to fall in, and +moved myself and my train accordingly in the midst of the anguish I +was to feign, and absolutely did endure. It is this watchful +faculty (perfectly prosaic and commonplace in its <a name="Page_247" id="Page_247" ></a><span class="pagenum">[247]</span>nature), which +never deserts me while I am uttering all that exquisite passionate +poetry in Juliet's balcony scene, while I feel as if my own soul +was on my lips, and my color comes and goes with the intensity of +the sentiment I am expressing; which prevents me from falling over +my train, from setting fire to myself with the lamps placed close +to me, from leaning upon my canvas balcony when I seem to throw +myself all but over it. In short, while the whole person appears to +be merely following the mind in producing the desired effect and +illusion upon the spectator, both the intellect and the senses are +constantly engrossed in guarding against the smallest accidents +that might militate against it; and while representing things +absolutely imaginary, they are taking accurate cognizance of every +real surrounding object that can either assist or mar the result +they seek to produce. This seems to me by far the most singular +part of the process, which is altogether a very curious and +complicated one. I am glad you got my print safe; it is a very +beautiful thing (I mean the drawing), and I am glad to think that +it is like me, though much flattered. I suppose it is like what +those who love me have sometimes seen me, but to the majority of my +acquaintance it must appear unwarrantably good-looking. The effect +of it is much too large for me, but when my mother ventured to +suggest this to Lawrence, he said that that was a peculiarity of +his drawings, and that he thought persons familiar with his style +would understand it.</p> + +<p>My dearest H——, you express something of regret at my necessity +(I can hardly call it choice) of a profession. There are many times +when I myself cannot help wishing it might have been otherwise; but +then come other thoughts: the talent which I possess for it was, I +suppose, given to me for some good purpose, and to be used. +Nevertheless, when I reflect that although hitherto my profession +has not appeared to me attractive enough to engross my mind, yet +that admiration and applause, and the excitement springing +therefrom, may become necessary to me, I resolve not only to watch +but to pray against such a result. I have no desire to sell my soul +for anything, least of all for sham fame, mere notoriety. Besides, +my mind has such far deeper enjoyment in other pursuits; the +happiness of reading Shakespeare's heavenly imaginations is so far +beyond all the excitement of acting them (white satin, gas lights, +applause, and all), that I cannot conceive a time when having him +in my hand will not compensate for the absence of any amount of +public popularity. While I can sit obliviously curled up in an +armchair, and read what he says till my eyes are full of delicious, +<a name="Page_248" id="Page_248" ></a><span class="pagenum">[248]</span>quiet tears, and my heart of blessed, good, quiet thoughts and +feelings, I shall not crave that which falls so far short of any +real enjoyment, and hitherto certainly seems to me as remote as +possible from any real happiness.</p> + +<p>This enviable condition of body and mind was mine while studying +Portia in "The Merchant of Venice," which is to be given on the +25th for my benefit. I shall be much frightened, I know, but I +delight in the part; indeed, Portia is my favoritest of all +Shakespeare's women. She is so generous, affectionate, wise, so +arch and full of fun, and such a true lady, that I think if I could +but convey her to my audience as her creator has conveyed her to +me, I could not fail to please them much. I think her speech to +Bassanio, after his successful choice of the casket, the most +lovely, tender, modest, dignified piece of true womanly feeling +that was ever expressed by woman.</p> + +<p>I certainly ought to act that character well, I do so delight in +it; I know nothing of my dress. But perhaps I shall have some +opportunity of writing to you again before it is acted. Now all I +have to say must be packed close, for I ought to be going to bed, +and I have no more paper. I have taken two riding lessons and like +it much, though it makes my bones ache a little. I go out a great +deal, and that I like very much whenever there is dancing, but not +else. My own home spoils me for society; perhaps I ought not to say +it, but after the sort of conversation I am used to the usual +jargon of society seems poor stuff; but you know when I am dancing +I am "o'er all the ills of life victorious." John has taken his +degree and will be back with us at Easter; Henry has left us for +Paris; A—— is quite well, and almost more of a woman than I am; +my father desires his love to you, to which I add mine to your +eldest niece and your invalid, and remain ever your affectionately +attached</p> + +<p class="signature">F. A. K.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Blackheath.</span></p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I was exceedingly glad to receive your letter. You ask me for my +own criticism on my Portia; you know that I think I am able to do +myself tolerably impartial justice, which may be a great mistake; +but whether it is or not, I request you will believe the following +account in preference to any other report, newspaper or letter, +public or private, whatever.</p> + +<p>In the first place, on my benefit night (my first appearance in the +part) I was so excessively nervous about it, and so shaken <a name="Page_249" id="Page_249" ></a><span class="pagenum">[249]</span>with the +tremendous uproar the audience made with their applause, that I +consider that performance entirely out of the pale of criticism, +and quite unworthy of it. I was <i>frightened</i> <span class="smcap">flat</span> to a degree I +could hardly have believed possible after my previous experience.</p> + +<p>I am happy to think that I improve in the part, and sincerely hope +that I shall continue to do so for some time. The principal defect +of my acting in it is that it wants point—brilliancy. I do not do +the trial scene one bit better or worse than the most mediocre +actress would, and although the comic scenes are called delightful +by people whose last idea of comedy was borrowed from Miss C—— or +Miss F——, my mother says (and I believe her) they are very +<i>vapid</i>. The best thing I do in the play (and I think it is the +best thing I do at all, except Juliet's balcony scene) is the scene +of the caskets, with Bassanio, and this I think I do <i>well</i>. But +the scene is of so comparatively subdued, quiet, and uneffective a +nature that I think the occupants of the stage boxes and the first +three rows of the pit must be the only part of the audience who +know anything about my acting of that portion of the play. I like +the part better than any I have yet played. I delight in the +poetry, and my heart goes with every sentiment Portia utters. I +have a real satisfaction in acting it, which is more than I can say +for anything else I have yet had to do. Juliet, with the exception +of the balcony scene, I act; but I feel as if I <i>were</i> Portia—and +how I wish I were! It is not a part that is generally much liked by +actresses, or that excites much enthusiasm in the public; there are +no violent situations with which to (what is called) "bring the +house down." Even the climax of the piece, the trial scene, I +should call, as far as Portia is concerned, rather grand and +impressive than strikingly or startlingly effective; and with the +exception of that, the whole character is so delicate, so nicely +blended, so true, and so free from all exaggeration, that it seems +to me hardly fit for a theater, much less one of our immense +houses, which require acting almost as <i>splashy</i> and coarse in +color and outline as the scene-painting of the stage is obliged to +be. Covent Garden is too large a frame for that exquisite, +harmonious piece of portrait painting. This is a long lecture, but +I hope it will not be an uninteresting one to you; and now let me +tell you something of my dresses, which cost my poor mother sad +trouble, and were really beautiful. My first was an open skirt of +the palest pink levantine, shot with white and the deepest +rose-color (it was like a gown made of strawberries and cream), the +folds of which, as the light fell upon them, pro<a name="Page_250" id="Page_250" ></a><span class="pagenum">[250]</span>duced the most +beautiful shades of shifting hues possible. The under-dress was a +very pale blue satin, brocaded with silver, of which my sleeves +were likewise made; the fashion of the costume was copied from +sundry pictures of Titian and Paul Veronese—the pointed body, cut +square over the bosom and shoulders, with a full white muslin shirt +drawn round my neck, and wide white sleeves within the large blue +and silver brocade ones. <i>Comprenez-vous</i> all this? My head was +covered with diamonds (<i>not real</i>; I'm anxious for my character), +and what delighted me much more was that I had jewels in the roses +of my shoes. I think if I had been Portia I never would have worn +any ornaments but two large diamonds in my shoe bows. You see, it +shows a pretty good stock of diamonds and a careless superiority to +such possessions to wear them on one's feet. Now pray don't laugh +at me, I was so enchanted with my fine shoes! This was my first +dress; the second was simply the doctor's black gown, with a +curious little authentic black velvet hat, which was received with +immense applause when I put it on; I could hardly keep my +countenance at the effect my hat produced. My third dress, my own +favorite, was made exactly like the first, the ample skirt gathered +all round into the stomacher body; the material was white satin, +trimmed with old point lace and Roman pearls, with a most beautiful +crimson velvet hat, a perfect Rubens, with one sweeping white +feather falling over it....</p> + +<p>We are spending our holiday of Passion week here for the sake of a +little quiet and fresh air; we had intended going to Dover, but +were prevented. You ask me after my mother: she is pretty well now, +but her health is extremely uncertain, and her spirits, which are +likewise very variable, have so much influence over it that her +condition fluctuates constantly; she has been very well, though, +for the last few days. London, I think, never agrees with her, and +we have been racketing to such a degree that quiet had become not +only desirable but necessary. Thank you for wishing me plenty of +dancing. I have abundance of it, and like it extremely; but I fear +I am very unreasonable about it, for my conscience smote me the +other day when I came to consider that the night before, although +my mother had stayed at a ball with me till three in the morning, I +was by no means gracious in my obedience to her request that I +should spare myself for my work. You see, dear H——, I am much the +same as ever, still as foolishly fond of dancing, and still, I +fear, almost as far from "begetting a <a name="Page_251" id="Page_251" ></a><span class="pagenum">[251]</span>temperance in all things" as +when you and I wandered about Heath Farm together.</p> + +<p>We met with a comical little adventure the other evening. We were +wandering over the common, and encountered two gypsies. I always +had desired to have my fortune told, so A—— and I each seized +hold of a sibyl and listened to our fates.</p> + +<p>After predicting to me all manner of good luck and two lovers, and +foretelling that I should marry blue eyes (which I will not), the +gypsy went up to my father, and began, "Pray, sir, let me tell your +fortune: you have been much wronged, sir, kept out of your rights, +sir, and what belonged to you, sir,—and that by them as you +thought was your friends, sir." My father turned away laughing, but +my mother, with a face of amazed and amazing credulity, put her +hand in her pocket, exclaiming, "I must give her something for +that, though!" Isn't that delicious?</p> + +<p>Oh, H——! how hard it is to do right and be good! But to be sure, +"if to do were as easy as to know what were good to be done," etc. +How I wish I could have an hour's talk with you! I have so much to +say, and I have neither time nor paper to say it in; so I must +leave off.</p> + +<p>Good-by, God bless you; pray look forward to the pleasure of seeing +me, and believe me ever</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Your affectionate</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p></div> + +<p>The house where I used to visit at Lea, in the neighborhood of +Blackheath, was a girls' school, kept by ladies of the name of Grimani, +in which my aunt Victoire Decamp was an assistant governess. These +ladies were descended from a noble Venetian family, of which the +Reverend Julian Young, their nephew, has given an account in his +extremely interesting and amusing memoir of his father; his mother, +Julia Grimani, being the sister of my kind friends, the directresses of +the Blackheath school. One of these, Bellina Grimani, a charming and +attractive woman, who was at one time attached to the household of the +ill-fated and ill-conducted Caroline of Brunswick, Princess of Wales, +died young and single. The elder Miss Grimani married a Mr. H—— within +a few years. Though I have never in the intervening fifty years met with +them, I have seen two ladies who were nieces of Miss Grimani, and pupils +in her school when I was a small visitor there. My principal +recollections connected with the place were the superior moral +excellence of one of these damsels, E—— B——, who was held up before +my unworthy eyes as a model of school-girl virtue, at <a name="Page_252" id="Page_252" ></a><span class="pagenum">[252]</span>once to shame and +encourage me; Bellina Grimani's sweet face and voice; some very fine +cedar trees on the lawn, and a picture in the drawing-room of Prospero +with his three-year-old Miranda in a boat in the midst of a raging sea, +which work of art used to shake my childish bosom with a tragical +passion of terror and pity, invariably ending in bitter tears. I was +much spoiled and very happy during my visits to Lea, and had a blissful +recollection of the house, garden, and whole place that justified my +regret in not being able, while staying at Blackheath fifteen years +after, to find or identify it.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">James Street, Buckingham Gate</span>, May 2d.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I received your kind letter the other night (that is, morning) on +my return from a ball, and read your reflections on dissipation +with an attention heightened by the appropriate comment of a bad +headache and abject weariness from top to toe with dancing. The way +in which people <i>prosecute</i> their pleasures in this good town of +London is certainly amazing; and we are (perforce) models of +moderation, compared with most of our acquaintance. I met at that +very ball persons who had been to one and two parties previously, +and were leaving that dance to hurry to another. Independently of +the great fatigue of such a life, it seems to me so strange that +when people are enjoying themselves to their hearts' content in one +place, they cannot be satisfied to remain there until they wish to +return home, but spend half the night in the streets, running from +one house to another, working their horses to death, and wasting +the precious time when they might be DANCING. You see my folly is +not so great but that I have philosophy to spare for my neighbors. +Let me tell you again, dear H——, how truly I rejoice in your +niece's restored health. The spring, too, is the very time for such +a resurrection, when every day and every hour, every cloud and +every flower, offer inexhaustible matter for the capabilities of +delight thus regained. Indeed, "the drops on the trees are the most +beautiful of all!" [E—— T——'s exclamation during one of her +first drives after the long imprisonment of her nervous malady.] A +wonderful feeling of renewed hope seems to fill the heart of all +created things in the spring, and <a name="Page_253" id="Page_253" ></a><span class="pagenum">[253]</span>even here in this smoky town it +finds its way to us, inclosed as we are by brick walls, dusty +streets, and all things unlovely and unnatural! I stood yesterday +in the little court behind our house, where two unhappy poplars and +a sycamore tree were shaking their leaves as if in surprise at the +acquisition and to make sure they had them, and looked up to the +small bit of blue sky above them with pleasurable spring tears in +my eyes. How I wish I were rich and could afford to be out of town +now! I always dislike London, and this lovely weather gives me a +sort of <i>mal du pays</i> for the country. My dearest H——, you must +not dream of leaving Ardgillan just when I am coming to see you; +that would be indeed a disappointment. My father is not at home at +this moment, but I shall ask him before I close this letter the +exact time when we shall be in Dublin. I look forward with much +pleasure to making my aunt Dall known to you. She is, I am happy to +say, coming with me, for indeed she is in some sense my "all the +world." You have often heard me speak of her, but it is difficult +for words to do justice to one whose whole life is an uninterrupted +stream of usefulness, goodness, and patient devotion to others. I +know but one term that, as the old writers say, "delivers" her +fully, and though it is not unfrequently applied, I think she is +the only person I know who really deserves it; she is <i>absolutely +unselfish</i>. I am sure, dear H——, you will excuse this panegyric, +though you do not know how well it is deserved; the proof of its +being so is that there is not one of us but would say the same of +aunt Dall.</p> + +<p>My father's benefit took place last Wednesday, when I acted +Isabella; the house was crowded, and the play very successful; I +think I played it well, and I take credit to myself for so doing, +for I dislike both play and part extremely. The worst thing I do in +it is the soliloquy when I am about to stab Biron, and the best, my +death. My dresses were very beautiful, and I am exceedingly glad +the whole thing is over. I suppose it will be my last new part this +season. I am reading with great pleasure a purified edition, just +published, of the old English dramatists; the work, as far as my +ignorance of the original plays will enable me to judge, seems very +well executed, and I owe the editor many thanks for some happy +hours spent with his book. I have just heard something which annoys +me not a little: I am to prepare to act Mrs. Haller. I know very +well that nobody was ever at liberty in this world to do what they +liked and that only; but when I know with what task-like feeling I +set about most of my work, I am both amused and provoked when +peo<a name="Page_254" id="Page_254" ></a><span class="pagenum">[254]</span>ple ask me if I do not delight in acting. I have not an idea +what to do with that part; however, I must apply myself to it, and +try; such mawkish sentiment, and such prosaic, commonplace language +seem to me alike difficult to feel and to deliver.</p> + +<p>My dear H——, I shall be in Ireland the whole month of July. I am +coming first to Dublin, and shall afterward go to Cork. You really +must not be away when I come, for if you are, I won't come, which +is good Irish, isn't it? I do not feel as you do, at all, about the +sea. Instead of depressing my spirits, it always raises them; it +seems to me as if the vast power of the great element communicated +itself to me. I feel <i>strong</i>, as I run by the side of the big +waves, with something of their strength, and the same species of +wild excitement which thunder and lightning produce in me always +affects me by the sea-shore. I never saw the sea but once violently +agitated, and then I was so well pleased with its appearance that I +took a boat and went out into the bustle, singing with all my +might, which was the only vent I could find for my high spirits; it +is true that I returned in much humiliation, very seasick, after a +short "triumph of Galatea" indeed.</p> + +<p>You ask me in one of your last why I do not send you verses any +more, as I used to do, and whether I still write any. So here I +send you some which I improvised the other day in your honor, and +which, written hurriedly as they were, will not, I think, stand the +test of any very severe criticism:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whene'er I recollect the happy time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When you and I held converse sweet together,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There come a thousand thoughts of sunny weather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of early blossoms, and the young year's prime.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your memory lives for ever in my mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all the fragrant freshness of the spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With odorous lime and silver hawthorn twined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mossy rest and woodland wandering.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's not a thought of you but brings along<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some sunny glimpse of river, field, and sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your voice sets words to the sweet blackbird's song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many a snatch of wild old melody;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as I date it still our love arose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twixt the last violet and the earliest rose.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I never go anywhere without a book wherein I may scratch my +valuable ideas, and therefore when we meet I will show you my +present receptacle. I take great delight in writing, and write less +incorrectly than I used to do. I have not time now to go on with +this letter, and as I am anxious you should know when to expect us, +I shall not defer it in the hope of making it more <a name="Page_255" id="Page_255" ></a><span class="pagenum">[255]</span>amusing, though +I fear it is rather dull. But you will not mind that, and will +believe me ever your affectionate</p> + +<p class="signature"><span class="smcap">Fanny Kemble</span>.</p></div> + +<p>The arrangement of Massinger for the family library by my friend the +Reverend Alexander Dyce, the learned Shakespearean editor and +commentator, was my first introduction to that mine of dramatic wealth +which enriched the literature of England in the reigns of Elizabeth and +James the First, and culminated in the genius of Shakespeare. It is by +comparison with them, his contemporaries, that we arrive at a just +estimate of his supremacy. I was so enchanted with these plays of +Massinger's, but more especially with the one called "The Maid of +Honor," that I never rested till I had obtained from the management its +revival on the stage. The part of Camiola is the only one that I ever +selected for myself. "The Maid of Honor" succeeded on its first +representation, but failed to attract audiences. Though less defective +than most of the contemporaneous dramatic compositions, the play was +still too deficient in interest to retain the favor of the public. The +character of Camiola is extremely noble and striking, but that of her +lover so unworthy of her that the interest she excites personally fails +to inspire one with sympathy for her passion for him. The piece in this +respect has a sort of moral incoherency, which appears to me, indeed, +not an infrequent defect in the compositions of these great dramatic +pre-Shakespearites. There is a want of psychical verisimilitude, a +disjointed abruptness, in their conceptions, which, in spite of their +grand treatment of separate characters and the striking force of +particular passages, renders almost every one of their plays +inharmonious as a whole, however fine and powerful in detached parts. +Their selection of abnormal and detestable subjects is a distinct +indication of intellectual weakness instead of vigor; supreme genius +alone perceives the beauty and dignity of human nature and human life in +their common conditions, and can bring to the surface of vulgar, +every-day existence the hidden glory that lies beneath it.</p> + +<p>The strictures contained in these girlish letters on the various plays +in which I was called to perform the heroines, of course partake of the +uncompromising nature of all youthful verdicts. Hard, sharp, and +shallow, they never went lower than the obvious surface of things, and +dealt easily, after the undoubting youthful fashion, with a main result, +without any misgiving as to conflicting causes or painful anxiety about +contradictory <a name="Page_256" id="Page_256" ></a><span class="pagenum">[256]</span>component parts. At the beginning of life, the ignorant +moral and intellectual standard alike have definite form and decided +color; time, as it goes on, dissolves the outline into vague +indistinctness, and reveals lights and shades so various and +innumerable, that toward the end of life criticism grows diffident, +opinion difficult, and positive judgment almost impossible.</p> + +<p>My first London season was now drawing to an end, and preparations were +begun for a summer tour in the provinces. There had been some talk of my +beginning with Brighton, but for some reason or other this fell through.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Bath</span>, May 31, 1830.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dear H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I have owed you an answer, and a most grateful one, for some time +past, for your kindness in writing me so long a letter as your +last; but when I assure you that, what with leave-taking, trying on +dresses, making purchases, etc., etc., and all the preparations for +our summer tour, this is the first moment in which I have been able +to draw a long breath for the last month, I am sure you will +forgive me, and believe, notwithstanding my long silence, that I +was made very happy indeed by your letter. I bade Covent Garden and +my dear London audience farewell on Friday last, when I acted Lady +Townley for the first time. The house was crammed, and as the +proprietors had fixed that night for a second benefit which they +gave me, I was very glad that it was so. I was very nicely dressed, +and to my own fancy acted well, though I dare say my performance +was a little flat occasionally. But considering my own physical +powers, and the immense size of the theatre, I do not think I +should have done better on the whole by acting more broadly; though +I suppose it would have been more effective, I should have had to +sacrifice something of repose and refinement to make it so. I was +very sorry to leave my London audience: they welcomed my first +appearance; they knew the history of our shipwrecked fortunes, and +though perhaps not one individual amongst them would go a mile out +of his way to serve us, there exists in them, taken collectively, a +kind feeling and respect for my father, and an indulgent good-will +toward me, which I do not hope to find elsewhere. I like Bath very +much; I have not been here since I was six years old, when I spent +a year here in hopes of being <i>bettered</i> by my aunt, Mrs. Twiss. A +most forlorn hope it was. I suppose in human annals there never +existed a more troublesome little brat than I was for the few years +after my first appearance on this earthly stage.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257" ></a><span class="pagenum">[257]</span>This town reminds me a little of Edinburgh. How glad I shall be to +see Edinburgh once more! I expect much pleasure, too, from the +pleasure of my aunt Dall, who some years ago spent some very happy +time in Edinburgh, and who loves it from association. And then, +dear H——, I am looking forward to seeing you once more; I shall +be with you somewhere in the beginning of June. I have had my first +rehearsal here this morning, "Romeo and Juliet;" the theatre is +much smaller than Covent Garden, which rather inconveniences me, as +a novelty, but the audience will certainly benefit by it. My +fellow-laborers amuse me a good deal; their versions of Shakespeare +are very droll. I wonder what your Irish ones will be. I am +fortunate in my Romeo, inasmuch as he is one of my cousins; he has +the family voice and manner very strongly, and at any rate does not +murder the text of Shakespeare. I have no more time to spare now, +for I must get my tea and go to the theater. I must tell you, +though, of an instance of provincial prudery (delicacy, I suppose I +ought to call it) which edified us not a little at rehearsal this +morning: the Mercutio, on seeing the nurse and Peter, called out, +"A sail, a sail!" and terminated the speech in a significant +whisper, which, being literally inaudible, my mother, who was with +me on the stage, very innocently asked, "Oh, does the gentleman +leave out the shirt and the smock?" upon which we were informed +that "body linen" was not so much as to be hinted at before a truly +refined Bath audience. How particular we are growing—<i>in word!</i> I +am much afraid my father will shock them with the speech of that +scamp Mercutio in all its pristine purity and precision. Good-by, +dear H——. Ever your affectionate</p> + +<p class="signature">F. A. K.</p> + +<p>P.S.—My mother desires to be particularly remembered to you. I +want to revive Massinger's "Maid of Honor;" I want to act Camiola.</p></div> + +<p>The necessity for carrying with us into the provinces a sufficient +number of various parts, and especially of plays in which my father and +myself could fill the principal characters, and so be tolerably +independent of incompetent coadjutors, was the reason of my coming out +in the play of "The Provoked Husband," before leaving London. The +passage in this letter about Lady Townley sufficiently shows how bad my +performance of it must have been, and how absolutely in the dark I was +<a name="Page_258" id="Page_258" ></a><span class="pagenum">[258]</span>with regard to the real style in which the part should be played. The +fine lady of my day, with the unruffled insipidity of her <i>low</i> spirits +(high spirits never came near her) and the imperturbable composure of +her smooth insolence, was as unlike the rantipole, racketing high-bred +woman of fashion of Sir John Vanbrugh's play as the flimsy elegance of +my silver-embroidered, rose-colored tulle dress was unlike the elaborate +splendor of her hooped and feathered and high-heeled, +patched-and-powdered magnificence, with its falling laces and standing +brocades. The part of Lady Townley was not only beyond my powers, but +has never been seen on the English stage since the days of Mrs. Abington +and Miss Farren, the latter elegant and spirited actress being held by +those who had seen both less like the original great lady than her +predecessor; while even the Théâtre Français, where consummate study and +reverend tradition of elder art still prevail, has lost more and more +the secret of <i>la grande manière</i> in a gradual descent from the <i>grande +dame</i> of Mademoiselle Contat to the pretty, graceful <i>femme comme il +faut</i> of Mademoiselle Plessis; for even the exquisite Célimène of +Mademoiselle Mars was but a "pale reflex" of Molière's brilliant +coquette, as played by her great instructress, Contat. The truth is, +that society no longer possesses or produces that creature, and a good +deal of reading, not of a usual or agreeable kind, would alone make one +familiar enough with Lady Townley and her like to enable an actress of +the present day to represent her with any verisimilitude. The absurd +practice, too, of dressing all the serious characters of the piece in +modern costume, and all the comic ones in that of the time at which it +was written, renders the whole ridiculously incoherent and manifestly +impossible, and destroys it as a picture of the manners of any time; for +even stripped of her hoop and powder, and her more flagrant coarseness +of speech, Lady Townley is still as unlike, in manners, language, and +deportment, any modern lady, as she is unlike the woman of fashion of +Hogarth's time, whose costume she has discarded.</p> + +<p>The event fully justified my expectation of far less friendly audiences +out of London than those I had hitherto made my appeals to. None of the +personal interest that was felt for me there existed elsewhere, and I +had to encounter the usual opposition, always prepared to cavil, in the +provinces, at the metropolitan verdict of merit, as a mere exhibition of +independent judgment; and to make good to the expectations of the +country critics the highly laudatory reports of the London press, by +which the provincial judges scorned to have a decision imposed <a name="Page_259" id="Page_259" ></a><span class="pagenum">[259]</span>upon +them. Not unnaturally, therefore, I found a much less fervid enthusiasm +in my audiences—who were, I dare say, quite justified in their +disappointment—and a far less eulogistic tone in the provincial press +with regard to my performances. Our houses, however, were always very +crowded, which was the essential point, and for my own part I was quite +satisfied with the notices and applause which were bestowed on me. My +cousin, John Mason, was the Romeo to whom I have referred in this +letter. He was my father's sister's son, and, like so many members of +our family, he and one of his brothers and his sister had made the stage +their profession. He had some favorable physical qualifications for it: +a rather striking face, handsome figure, good voice, and plenty of fire +and energy; he was tolerably clever and well-informed, but without +either imagination or refinement. My father, who thought there was the +making of a good actor in him, was extremely kind to him.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Glasgow, Monday</span>, June 28, 1830.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dear Mrs. Jameson</span>, +</p> + +<p>I believe that you will have felt too well convinced that I had not +had a moment to spare, to be surprised at my not having sooner +acknowledged your very kind letter; nothing but the incessant +occupation of my time would so long have prevented me from doing +so, but I embrace the opportunity which the king's death affords me +of telling you how much obliged to you I was for writing to me, and +writing as you did. I have little news to return you but what +concerns myself, but I shall make no coquettish excuses about that, +for I really believe 'tis the subject that will interest you most +of any I could find. First, then, I am very well, rather tired, and +sitting at an inn window, in a dull, dark, handsome square in +Glasgow. My fortnight in Edinburgh is over, and a short fortnight +it has been, what with rehearsals, riding, sitting for my bust, and +acting. The few hurried glimpses I have caught of my friends have +been like dreams, and now that I have parted from them, no more to +meet them there certainly, the whole seems to me like mere +bewilderment, and I repeat to myself in my thoughts, hardly +believing it, that the next time that I visit Edinburgh I shall not +find the dear companionship of my cousins nor the fond affection of +Mrs. Henry Siddons. This will be a severe loss to me; Edinburgh +will, I fear, be without its greatest charm, and it will remain to +be proved whether these lovely scenes that I have so admired and +delighted in owed all their incomparable fascination to their +intrinsic beauty, or to that <a name="Page_260" id="Page_260" ></a><span class="pagenum">[260]</span>most pleasurable frame of mind I +enjoyed at the same time, the consciousness of the kind regard of +the excellent human beings among whom I lived.</p> + +<p>You will naturally expect me to say something of my theatrical +experiences in the modern Athens. Our houses have been very fine, +our audiences (as is their national nature) very cold; but upon the +whole I believe they were well pleased with us, notwithstanding the +damping influence of the newspapers, which have one and all been +unfavorable to me. The deathlike stillness of the audience, as it +afforded me neither rest nor stimulus, distressed me a good deal; +which, I think I need not tell you, the newspaper criticisms did +not. I was surprised, in reading them, to find how very generally +their strictures were confined to my external disadvantages,—my +diminutive stature and defective features; and that these far-famed +northern critics discussed these rather than what I should have +expected them to bestow their consideration upon, the dramatic +artist's conception of character, and his (or her) execution of +that conception. But had their verdicts been still more severe, I +have a sufficient consolation in two notes of Sir Walter Scott's, +written to the editor of one of the papers, Ballantyne, his own +particular friend, which the latter sent me, and where he bears +such testimony to my exertions as I do not care to transcribe, for +fear my cheeks should reflect a lasting blush on my paper, but +which I keep as a treasure and shall certainly show you with pride +and pleasure when we meet.</p> + +<p>Among the delightful occurrences of last week, I must record our +breakfasting with Walter Scott. I was wonderfully happy. To whom, +since Shakespeare, does the reading world owe so many hours of +perfect, peaceful pleasure, of blessed forgetfulness of all things +miserable and mean in its daily life? The party was a small but +interesting one: Sir Walter and his daughter Anne, his old friend +Sir Adam Ferguson and Lady Ferguson, and Miss Ferrier, the +authoress of "Marriage" and "Inheritance," with both which capital +books I hope, for your own sake, you are acquainted. Sir Walter was +most delightful, and I even forgot all awful sense of his celebrity +in his kind, cordial, and almost affectionate manner toward me. He +is exceedingly like all the engravings, pictures, and busts of him +with which one is familiar, and it seems strange that so varied and +noble an intellect should be expressed in the features of a shrewd, +kindly, but not otherwise striking countenance. He told me several +things that interested me very much; among others, his being +present at the time when, after much searching, <a name="Page_261" id="Page_261" ></a><span class="pagenum">[261]</span>the regalia of +Scotland was found locked up in a room in Edinburgh Castle, where, +as he said, the dust of centuries had accumulated upon it, and +where the ashes of fires lit more than two hundred years before +were still lying in the grate. He told me a story that made me cry, +of a poor old lady upward of eighty years of age, who belonged to +one of the great Jacobite families,—she was a Maxwell,—sending to +him at the time the Scottish crown was found, to implore permission +to see it but for one instant; which (although in every other case +the same petition had been refused) was granted to her in +consideration of her great age and the vital importance she seemed +to attach to it. I never shall forget his describing her when first +she saw it, appearing for a moment petrified at sight of it, and +then tottering forward and falling down on her knees, and weeping +and wailing over these poor remains of the royalty of her country +as if it had been the dead body of her child.</p> + +<p>Sir Adam Ferguson is a delightful person, whose quick, bustling +manner forms a striking contrast to Walter Scott's quiet tone of +voice and deliberate enunciation I have also made acquaintance with +Jeffrey, who came and called upon us the other morning, and, I +hear, like some of his fellow-townsmen, complains piteously that I +am not prettier. Indeed, I am very sorry for it, and I heartily +wish I were; but I did not think him handsome either, and I wonder +why he is not handsomer? though I don't care so much about his want +of beauty as he seems to do about mine. But I am running on at a +tremendous rate, and quite forget that I have traveled upward of +forty miles to-day, and that I promised my mother, whenever I +could, to go to bed early. Good-by, my dear Mrs. Jameson. I hope +you will be able to make out this scrawl, and to decipher that I am +yours affectionately,</p> + +<p class="signature"><span class="smcap">F. A. Kemble</span>.</p></div> + +<p>Of the proverbial frigidity of the Edinburgh public I had been +forewarned, and of its probably disheartening effect upon myself. Mrs. +Harry Siddons had often told me of the intolerable sense of depression +with which it affected Mrs. Siddons, who, she said, after some of her +grandest outbursts of passion, to which not a single expression of +applause or sympathy had responded, exhausted and breathless with the +effort she had made, would pant out in despair, under her breath, +"Stupid people, stupid people!" Stupid, however, they undoubtedly were +not, though, as undoubtedly, their want of excitability and +demonstrativeness diminished their own pleasure by communi<a name="Page_262" id="Page_262" ></a><span class="pagenum">[262]</span>cating itself +to the great actress and partially paralyzing her powers. That this +habitual reserve sometimes gave way to very violent exhibitions of +enthusiasm, the more fervent from its general repression, there is no +doubt; and I think it was in Edinburgh that my friend, Mr. Harness, told +me the whole of the sleep-walking scene in "Macbeth" had once been so +vehemently encored that my aunt was literally obliged to go over it a +second time, before the piece was allowed to proceed.</p> + +<p>Scott's opinion of my acting, which would, of course, have been very +valuable to me, let it have been what it would, was written to his +friend and editor (<i>eheu!</i>), Ballantyne, who was also the editor of one +of the principal Edinburgh papers, in which unfavorable criticisms of my +performances had appeared, and in opposition to which Sir Walter Scott +told him he was too hard upon me, and that for his part he had seen +nothing so good since Mrs. Siddons. This encouraging verdict was +courteously forwarded to me by Mr. Ballantyne himself, who said he was +sure I would like to possess it. The first time I ever saw Walter Scott, +my father and myself were riding slowly down Princes Street, up which +Scott was walking; he stopped my father's horse, which was near the +pavement, and desired to be introduced to me. Then followed a string of +cordial invitations which previous engagements and our work at the +theater forbade our accepting, all but the pressing one with which he +wound up, that we would at least come and breakfast with him. The first +words he addressed to me as I entered the room were, "You appear to be a +very good horsewoman, which is a great merit in the eyes of an old +Border-man." Every <i>r</i> in which sentence was rolled into a combination +of double <i>u</i> and double <i>r</i> by his Border burr, which made it memorable +to me by this peculiarity of his pleasant speech. My previous +acquaintance with Miss Ferrier's admirable novels would have made me +very glad of the opportunity of meeting her, and I should have thought +Sir Adam Ferguson delightfully entertaining, but that I could not bear +to lose, while listening to any one else, a single word spoken by Walter +Scott.</p> + +<p>I never can forget, however, the description Sir Adam Ferguson gave me +of a morning he had passed with Scott at Abbotsford, which at that time +was still unfinished, and, swarming with carpenters, painters, masons, +and bricklayers, was surrounded with all the dirt and disorderly +discomfort inseparable from the process of house-building. The room they +sat in was in the roughest condition which admitted of their occupying +it, at all; the raw, new chimney smoked intolerably. Out-of-doors <a name="Page_263" id="Page_263" ></a><span class="pagenum">[263]</span>the +whole place was one chaos of bricks, mortar, scaffolding, tiles, and +slates. A heavy mist shrouded the whole landscape of lovely Tweed side, +and distilled in a cold, persistent, and dumb drizzle. Maida, the +well-beloved staghound, kept fidgeting in and out of the room, Walter +Scott every five minutes exclaiming, "Eh, Adam! the puir brute's just +wearying to get out;" or, "Eh, Adam! the puir creature's just crying to +come in;" when Sir Adam would open the door to the raw, chilly air for +the wet, muddy hound's exit or entrance, while Scott, with his face +swollen with a grievous toothache, and one hand pressed hard to his +cheek, with the other was writing the inimitably humorous opening +chapters of "The Antiquary," which he passed across the table, sheet by +sheet, to his friend, saying, "Now, Adam, d'ye think that'll do?" Such a +picture of mental triumph over outward circumstances has surely seldom +been surpassed: house-builders, smoky chimney, damp draughts, restless, +dripping dog, and toothache form what our friend, Miss Masson, called a +"concatenation of exteriorities" little favorable to literary +composition of any sort; but considered as accompaniments or inspiration +of that delightfully comical beginning of "The Antiquary," they are all +but incredible.</p> + +<p>To my theatrical avocation I have been indebted for many social +pleasures and privileges; among others, for Sir Walter Scott's notice +and acquaintance; but among the things it has deprived me of was the +opportunity of enjoying more of his honorable and delightful +intercourse. A visit to Abbotsford, urged upon us most kindly, is one of +the lost opportunities of my life that I think of always with bitter +regret. Sir Walter wanted us to go down and spend a week with him in the +country, and our professional engagements rendered it impossible for us +to do so; and there are few things in my whole life that I count greater +loss than the seven days I might have passed with that admirable genius +and excellent, kind man, and had to forego. I never saw Abbotsford until +after its master had departed from all earthly dwelling-places. I was +staying in the neighborhood, at the house of my friend, Mrs. M——, of +Carolside, and went thither with her and my youngest daughter. The house +was inhabited only by servants; and the housekeeper, whose charge it was +to show it, waited till a sufficient number of tourists and sight-seers +had collected, and then drove us all together from room to room of the +house in a body, calling back those who outstripped her, and the laggers +who would fain have fallen a few paces out of the sound of the <a name="Page_264" id="Page_264" ></a><span class="pagenum">[264]</span>dreary +parrotry of her inventory of the contents of each apartment. There was +his writing-table and chair, his dreadnaught suit and thick walking +shoes and staff there in the drawing-room; the table, fitted like a +jeweler's counter, with a glass cover, protecting and exhibiting all the +royal and precious tokens of honor and admiration, in the shape of +orders, boxes, miniatures, etc, bestowed on him by the most exalted +worshipers of his genius, hardly to be distinguished under the thick +coat of dust with which the glass was darkened. Poor Anne Scott's +portrait looked dolefully down on the strangers staring up at her, and, +a glass door being open to the garden, Mrs. M—— and myself stepped out +for a moment to recover from the miserable impression of sadness and +desecration the whole thing produced on us; but the inexorable voice of +the housekeeper peremptorily ordered us to return, as it would be, she +said (and very truly), quite impossible for her to do her duty in +describing the "curiosities" of the house, if visitors took upon +themselves to stray about in every direction instead of keeping together +and listening to what she was saying. How glad we were to escape from +the sort of nightmare of the affair!</p> + +<p>I returned there on another occasion, one of a large and merry party who +had obtained permission to picnic in the grounds, but who, deterred by +the threatening aspect of the skies from gypsying (as had originally +been proposed) by the side of the Tweed, were allowed, by Sir Adam +Ferguson's interest with the housekeeper, to assemble round the table in +the dining-room of Abbotsford. Here, again, the past was so present with +me as to destroy all enjoyment, and, thinking how I might have had the +great good fortune to sit there with the man who had made the whole +place illustrious, I felt ashamed and grieved at being there then, +though my companions were all kind, merry, good-hearted people, bent +upon their own and each other's enjoyment. Sir Adam Ferguson had grown +very old, and told no more the vivid anecdotes of former days; and to +complete my mental discomfort, on the wall immediately opposite to me +hung a strange picture of Mary Stuart's head, severed from the trunk and +lying on a white cloth on a table, as one sees the head of John the +Baptist in the charger, in pictures of Herodias's daughter. It was a +ghastly presentation of the guillotined head of a pretty but rather +common-looking French woman—a fancy picture which it certainly would +not have been my fancy to have presiding over my dinner-table.</p> + +<p>Only once after this dreary party of pleasure did I return, many years +later, to Abbotsford. I was alone, and the tourist <a name="Page_265" id="Page_265" ></a><span class="pagenum">[265]</span>season was over, and +the sad autumnal afternoon offering little prospect of my being joined +by other sight-seers, I prevailed with the housekeeper, who admitted me, +to let me wander about the place, without entering the house; and I +spent a most melancholy hour in the garden and in pacing up and down the +terrace overlooking the Tweed side. The place was no longer inhabited at +all; my ringing at the gate had brought, after much delay, a servant +from Mr. Hope's new residence, built at some distance from Scott's +house, and from her I learned that the proprietor of Abbotsford had +withdrawn to the house he had erected for himself, leaving the poet's +dwelling exclusively as a place of pilgrimage for travelers and +strangers, with not even a servant residing under its roof. The house +abandoned to curious wayfarers; the sons and daughters, the grandson and +granddaughter, every member of the founder's family dead; Mr. Hope +remarried to a lady of the house of Arundel, and living in a +semi-monastic seclusion in a house walled off from the tourist-haunted +shrine of the great man whose memory alone was left to inhabit it,—all +these circumstances filled me with indescribable sadness as I paced up +and down in the gloaming, and thought of the strange passion for +founding here a family of the old Border type which had obfuscated the +keen, clear brain of Walter Scott, made his wonderful gifts subservient +to the most futile object of ambition, driven him to the verge of +disgrace and bankruptcy, embittered the evening of his laborious and +glorious career, and finally ended in this,—the utter extinction of the +name he had illustrated and the family he had hoped to found. And while +his noble works remain to make his memory ever loved and honored, this +<i>Brummagem</i> mediæval mansion, this mock feudal castle with its imitation +baronial hall (upon a diminutive scale) hung round with suits of armor, +testifies to the utter perversity of good sense and good taste resulting +from this one mental infirmity, this craving to be a Border chieftain of +the sixteenth century instead of an Edinburgh lawyer of the nineteenth, +and his preference for the distinction of a petty landholder to that of +the foremost genius of his age. Mr. Combe, in speaking of this feudal +insanity of Scott and the piteous havoc it made of his life, told me +that at one time he and Ballantyne, with whom he had entered into +partnership, were staving off imminent ruin by indorsing and accepting +each other's bills, and carried on that process to the extremest verge +compatible with honesty. What a history of astounding success and utter +failure!</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"><span class="smcap">Glasgow</span>, July 3, 1830.<a name="Page_266" id="Page_266" ></a><span class="pagenum">[266]</span></p> + +<p>You will, ere this, my dear Mrs. Jameson, have received my very +tardy reply to your first kind letter. I got your second last night +at the theater, just after I <i>had given away my jewels to Mr. +Beverley</i>. I was much gratified by your profession of affection for +me, for though I am not over-desirous of public admiration and +approbation, I am anxious to secure the good-will of individuals +whose intellect I admire, and on whose character I can with +confidence rely. Your letter, however, made me uncomfortable in +some respects; you seem unhappy and perplexed. I am sure you will +believe me when I say that, without the remotest thought of +intruding on the sacredness of private annoyances and distresses, I +most sincerely sympathize in your uneasiness, whatever may be its +cause, and earnestly pray that the cloud, which the two or three +last times we met in London hung so heavily on your spirits, may +pass away. It is not for me to say to you, "Patience," my dear Mrs. +Jameson; you have suffered too much to have neglected that only +remedy of our afflictions, but I trust Heaven will make it an +efficacious one to you, and erelong send you less need of it. I am +glad you see my mother often, and very glad that to assist your +recollection of me you find interest and amusement in discussing +the fitting up of my room with her. Pray do not forget that the +drawing you made of the rooms in James Street is mine, and that +when you visit me in my new abode it will be pleasant to have that +remembrance before us of a place where we have spent some hours +very happily together.</p> + +<p>What you say of Mrs. N—— only echoes my own thoughts of her. She +is a splendid creature, nobly endowed every way; too nobly to +become through mere frivolity and foolish vanity the mark of the +malice and envy of such <i>things</i> as she is surrounded by, and who +will all eagerly embrace the opportunity of slandering one so +immeasurably their superior in every respect. I do not know much of +her, but I feel deeply interested in her; not precisely with the +interest inspired by loving or even liking, but with that feeling +of admiring solicitude with which one must regard a person so +gifted, so tempted, and in such a position as hers. I am glad that +lovely sister of hers is married, though matrimony in that world is +not always the securest haven for a woman's virtue or happiness; it +is sometimes in that society the reverse of an "honorable estate."</p> + +<p>The poor king's death gave me a holiday on Monday, Tuesday, and +Wednesday, and we eagerly embraced the opportunity its respite +afforded us of visiting Loch Lomond <a name="Page_267" id="Page_267" ></a><span class="pagenum">[267]</span>and the entrance to Loch Long. +As almost my first thought when we reached the lake was, "How can +people attempt to describe such places?" I shall not terminate my +letter with "smooth expanses of sapphire-tinted waves," or "purple +screens of heath-clad hills rising one above another into the +cloudless sky." A volume might be written on the mere color of the +water, and give no idea of it, though you are the very person whose +imagination, aided by all that you've seen, would best realize such +a scene from description. It was heavenly, and we had such a +perfect day! I prefer, however, the glimpse we had of Loch Long to +what we saw of Loch Lomond. I brought away an appropriate nosegay +from my trip, a white rose from Dumbarton, in memory of Mary +Stuart, an oak branch from Loch Lomond, and a handful of heather, +for which I fought with the bees on the rocky shore of Loch Long.</p> + +<p>I like my Glasgow audience better than my Edinburgh one; they are +not so cold. I look for a pleasant audience in your country, for +which we set out to-morrow, I believe. My aunt desires to be +remembered to you, and so does my father, and bids me add, in +answer to your modest doubt, that you are a person to be always +remembered with pleasure and esteem. I am glad you did not like my +Bath miniature; indeed, it was not likely that you would.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Believe me always yours affectionately,</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p></div> + +<p>During our summer tour my mother, who had remained in London, +superintended the preparation of a new house, to which we removed on our +return to town. My brother Henry's schooling at Westminster was over, +which had been the reason for our taking the house at Buckingham Gate, +and, though it had proved a satisfactory residence in many respects, we +were glad to exchange it for the one to which we now went, which had +many associations that made it agreeable to my father, having been my +uncle John's home for many years, and connected with him in the memory +of my parents. It was the corner house of Great Russell Street and +Montague Place, and, since we left it, has been included in the new +court-yard of the British Museum (which was next door to it) and become +the librarian's quarters, our friend Panizzi being its first occupant +afterward. It was a good, comfortable, substantial house, the two +pleasantest rooms of which, to me, were the small apartment on the +ground floor, lined with books from floor to ceiling, and my own +peculiar lodging in the upper regions, which, <a name="Page_268" id="Page_268" ></a><span class="pagenum">[268]</span>thanks to my mother's +kindness and taste, was as pretty a bower of elegant comfort as any +young spinster need have desired. There I chiefly spent my time, +pursuing my favorite occupations, or in the society of my own especial +friends: my dear H—— S——, when she was in London; Mrs. Jameson, who +often climbed thither for an hour's pleasant discussion of her book on +Shakespeare; and a lady with whom I now formed a very close intimacy, +which lasted till her death, my dear E—— F——.</p> + +<p>I had the misfortune to lose the water-color sketches which Mrs. Jameson +had made of our two drawing-rooms in James Street, Buckingham Gate. They +were very pretty and skillful specimens of a difficult kind of subject, +and valuable as her work, no less than as tokens of her regard for me. +The beautiful G—— S——, to whose marriage I have referred, had she +not been a sister of her sisters, would have been considered a wit; and, +in spite of this, was the greatest beauty of her day. She always +reminded me of what an American once said in speaking of a countrywoman +of his, that she was so lovely that when she came into the room she took +his breath away. While I was in Bath I was asked by a young artist to +sit for my miniature. His portrait had considerable merit as a piece of +delicate, highly finished workmanship; it was taken in the part of +Portia, and engraved; but I think no one, without the label underneath, +would have imagined in it even the intention of my portrait. Whether or +not the cause lay in my own dissimilar expressions and dissimilar +aspects at different times, I do not know; but if a collection was made +of the likenesses that have been taken of me, to the number of nearly +thirty, nobody would ever imagine that they were intended to represent +the same person. Certainly, my Bath miniature produced a version of my +face perfectly unfamiliar to myself and most of my friends who saw it.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Dublin</span>, ——.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dear Mrs. Jameson</span>, +</p> + +<p>I received your third kind letter yesterday morning, and have no +more time to-day than will serve to inclose my answer to your +second, which reached me and was replied to at Glasgow; owing to +your not having given me your address, I had kept it thus long in +my desk. You surely said nothing in <a name="Page_269" id="Page_269" ></a><span class="pagenum">[269]</span>that letter of yours that the +kindest good feeling could take exception to, and therefore need +hardly, I think, have been so anxious about its possible +miscarriage. However, "Misery makes one acquainted with strange +bed-fellows," and I am afraid distrust is one of them. You will be +glad, I know, to hear that I have been successful here, and perhaps +amused to know that when your letter reached me yesterday, I was +going, <i>en lionne</i>, to a great dinner-party at Lady Morgan's. You +ask me for advice about your Shakespeare work, but advice is what I +have no diploma for bestowing; and such suggestions as I might +venture, were I sitting by your side with Shakespeare in my hand, +and which might furnish pleasant matter of converse and discussion, +are hardly solid enough for transmission by post.</p> + +<p>I have been reading the "Tempest" all this afternoon, with eyes +constantly dim with those delightful tears which are called up +alike by the sublimity and harmony of nature, and the noblest +creations of genius. I cannot imagine how you should ever feel +discouraged in your work; it seems to me it must be its own +perpetual stimulus and reward. Is not Miranda's exclamation, "O +brave new world, that has such people in it!" on the first sight of +the company of villainous men who ruined her and her father, with +the royal old magician's comment, "'Tis new to thee!" exquisitely +pathetic? I must go to my work; 'tis "The Gamester" to-night; I +wish it were over. Good-by, my dear Mrs. Jameson. Thank you for +your kind letters; I value them very much, and am your affectionate</p> + +<p class="signature"><span class="smcap">F. Kemble</span>.</p> + +<p>P.S.—I am very happy here, in the society of an admirable person +who is as good as she is highly gifted,—a rare union,—and who, +moreover, loves me well, which adds much, in my opinion, to her +other merits. I mean my friend Miss S——.</p></div> + +<p>My only reminiscence connected with this dinner at Lady Morgan's is of +her kind and comical zeal to show me an Irish jig, performed <i>secundum +artem</i>, when she found that I had never seen her national dance. She +jumped up, declaring nobody danced it as well as herself, and that I +should see it immediately; and began running through the rooms, with a +gauze scarf that had fallen from her shoulders fluttering and trailing +after her, calling loudly for a certain young member of the viceregal +staff, who was among the guests invited to a large evening party after +the dinner, to be her partner. But the gentleman <a name="Page_270" id="Page_270" ></a><span class="pagenum">[270]</span>had already departed +(for it was late), and I might have gone to my grave unenlightened upon +the subject of jigs if I had not seen one performed, to great +perfection, by some gay young members of a family party, while I was +staying at Worsley with my friends Lord and Lady Ellesmere, whose +children and guests got up an impromptu ball on the occasion of Lady +Octavia Grosvenor's birthday, in the course of which the Irish national +dance was performed with great spirit, especially by Lord Mark Kerr and +Lady Blanche Egerton. It resembles a good deal the saltarello of the +Italian peasants in rhythm and character; and a young Irishman, servant +of some friends of mine, covered himself with glory by the manner in +which he joined a party of Neapolitan tarantella dancers, merely by dint +of his proficiency in his own native jig. A great many years after my +first acquaintance with Lady Morgan in Dublin, she renewed our +intercourse by calling on me in London, where she was spending the +season, and where I was then living with my father, who had become +almost entirely deaf and was suffering from a most painful complication +of maladies. My relations with the lively and amusing Irish authoress +consisted merely in an exchange of morning visits, during one of which, +after talking to me with voluble enthusiasm of Cardinal Gonsalvi and +Lord Byron, whose portraits hung in her room, and who, she assured me, +were her two pre-eminent heroes, she plied me with a breathless series +of pressing invitations to breakfasts, luncheons, dinners, evening +parties, to meet everybody in London that I did and did not know, and +upon my declining all these offers of hospitable entertainment (for I +had at that time withdrawn myself entirely from society, and went +nowhere), she exclaimed, "But what in the world do you <i>do</i> with +yourself in the evening?" "Sit with my father, or remain alone," said I. +"Ah!" cried the society-loving little lady, with an exasperated Irish +accent, "come out of that <i>sphare</i> of solitary self-sufficiency <i>ye</i> +live in, do! Come to me!" Which objurgation certainly presented in a +most ludicrous light my life of very sad seclusion, and sent us both +into fits of laughter.</p> + +<p>I have alluded to a friendship which I formed soon after my appearance +on the stage with Miss E—— F——. She was the daughter of Mr. F——, +for many years member for Tiverton. Miss F—— and I perpetuated a close +attachment already traditional between our families, her mother having +been Mrs. Siddons's dearest friend. Indeed, for many years of her life, +Mrs. F—— seems to me to have postponed the claims even of her husband +and children upon her time and attention, to her <a name="Page_271" id="Page_271" ></a><span class="pagenum">[271]</span>absolute devotion to +her celebrated idol. Mr. F—— was a dutiful member of the House of +Commons, and I suppose his boy was at school and his girl too young to +demand her mother's constant care and superintendence, at the time when +she literally gave up the whole of her existence to Mrs. Siddons during +the London season, passing her days in her society and her evenings in +her dressing-room at the theater, whenever Mrs. Siddons acted. Miss +F—— and myself could not dedicate ourselves with any such absolute +exclusiveness to each other. Neither of our mothers would have consented +to any such absorbing arrangement, for which a certain independence of +family ties would have been indispensable; but within the limits which +our circumstances allowed we were as devoted to each other as my aunt +Siddons and Mrs. F—— had been, and our intercourse was as full and +frequent as possible. E—— F—— was not pretty, but her face was +expressive of both intelligence and sensibility; her figure wanted +height, but was slender and graceful; her head was too small for +powerful though not far keen and sagacious intellect, or for beauty. The +general impression she produced was that of well-born and well-bred +refinement, and she was as eager, light, and rapid in her movements as a +greyhound, of which elegant animal the whole character of her appearance +constantly reminded me.</p> + +<p>Mr. F—— had a summer residence close to the picturesque town of +Southampton, called Bannisters, the name of which charming place calls +up the image of my friend swinging in her hammock under the fine trees +of her lawn, or dexterously managing her boat on its tiny lake, and +brings back delightful hours and days spent in happy intercourse with +her. Mr. F—— had himself planned the house, which was as peculiar as +it was comfortable and elegant. A small vestibule, full of fine casts +from the antique (among others a rare original one of the glorious +Neapolitan Psyche, given to his brother-in-law, Mr. William Hamilton, by +the King of Naples), formed the entrance. The oval drawing-room, painted +in fresco by Mr. F——, recalled by its Italian scenes their wanderings +in the south of Europe. In the adjoining room were some choice pictures, +among others a fine copy of one of Titian's Venuses, and in the +dining-room an equally good one of his Venus and Adonis. The place of +honor, however, in this room was reserved for a life-size, full-length +portrait of Mrs. Siddons, which Lawrence painted for Mrs. F—— and +which is now in the National Gallery,—a production so little to my +taste both as picture and portrait that I used to wonder how Mrs. +F—— could tolerate such a represen<a name="Page_272" id="Page_272" ></a><span class="pagenum">[272]</span>tation of her admirable friend. The +principal charm of Bannisters, however, was the garden and grounds, +which, though of inconsiderable extent, were so skillfully and +tastefully laid out, that their bounds were always invisible. The lawn +and shrubberies were picturesquely irregular, and still retained some +kindred, in their fine oaks and patches of heather, to the beautiful +wild common which lay immediately beyond their precincts. A pretty piece +of ornamental water was set in flowering bushes and well-contrived +rockery, and in a more remote part of the grounds a little dark pond +reflected wild-wood banks and fine overspreading elms and beeches. The +small park had some charming clumps and single trees, and there was a +twilight walk of gigantic overarching laurels, of a growth that dated +back to a time of considerable antiquity, when the place had been part +of an ancient monastery. Above all, I delighted in my friend E——'s +favorite flower-garden, where her fine eye for color reveled in grouping +the softest, gayest, and richest masses of bloom, and where in a bay of +mossy turf, screened round with evergreens, the ancient vision of love +and immortality, the antique Cupid and Psyche, watched over the +fragrant, flowery domain.</p> + +<p>Sweet Bannisters! to me for ever a refuge of consolation and sympathy in +seasons of trial and sorrow, of unfailing kindly welcome and devoted +constant affection; haven of pleasant rest and calm repose whenever I +resorted to it! How sad was my last visit to that once lovely and +beloved place, now passed into the hands of strangers, deserted, +divided, desecrated, where it was painful even to call up the image of +her whose home it once was! The last time I saw Bannisters the grounds +were parceled out and let for grazing inclosures to various Southampton +townspeople. The house was turned into a boys' boarding-school, and, as +I hurried away, the shouts and acclamations of a roaring game of cricket +came to me from the inclosure that had been E—— F——'s flower-garden; +but though I was crying bitter tears the lads seemed very happy; the +fashion of this world passeth away.</p> + +<p>Before leaving Dublin for Liverpool, I had the pleasure of visiting my +friend Miss S—— in her home, where I returned several times, and was +always welcomed with cordial kindness. My last visit there took place +during the Crimean war. My friend Mrs. T—— had become a widow, and her +second son, now General T——, was with his regiment in the very front +of the danger, and also surrounded by the first deadly outbreak of the +cholera, which swooped with such fatal fury upon our <a name="Page_273" id="Page_273" ></a><span class="pagenum">[273]</span>troops at the +opening of the campaign. I can never forget the pathetic earnestness and +solemnity of the prayers read aloud by that poor mother for the safety +of our army, nor the accent with which she implored God's protection +upon those exposed to such imminent peril in the noble discharge of +their duty. That son was preserved to that mother, having manfully done +his part in the face of the twofold death that threatened him.</p> + +<p>There was a slight circumstance attending Mrs. T——'s household +devotions that charmed me greatly, and that I have never seen repeated +anywhere else where I have assisted at family prayers. The servants, as +they left the hall, bowed and courtesied to their mistress, who returned +their salutation with a fine, old-fashioned courtesy, full of a sweet, +kindly grace, that was delightful. This act of civility to her +dependents was to me a perfect expression of Mrs. T——'s real antique +toryism, as well as of her warm-hearted, motherly kindness of nature.</p> + +<p>Ardgillan Castle (I think by courtesy, for it was eminently, peaceful in +character, in spite of the turret inhabited by my dear "moping owl," +H——) was finely situated on an eminence from which the sea, with the +picturesque fishing village of Skerries stretching into it on one side, +and the Morne Mountains fading in purple distance beyond its blue waters +on the other, formed a beautiful prospect. A pine wood on one side of +the grounds led down to the foot of the grassy hill upon which the house +stood, and to a charming wilderness called the Dell: a sylvan recess +behind the rocky margin of the sea, from which it was completely +sheltered, whose hollow depth, carpeted with grass and curtained with +various growth of trees, was the especial domain of my dear H——. A +crystal spring of water rose in this "bosky dell," and answered with its +tiny tinkle the muffled voice of the ocean breaking on the shore beyond. +The place was perfectly lovely, and here we sat together and devised, as +the old word was, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things +above heaven, and things below earth, and things quite beyond ourselves, +till we were well-nigh beside ourselves; and it was not the fault of my +metaphysical friend, but of my utter inability to keep pace with her +mental processes, if our argument did not include every point of that +which Milton has assigned to the forlorn disputants of his infernal +regions. My departure from Dublin ended these happy hours of +companionship, and I exchanged that academe and my beloved Plato in +petticoats for my play-house work at Liverpool. The following letter was +in answer to one Mrs. Jameson wrote me upon the subject of a lady whom +<a name="Page_274" id="Page_274" ></a><span class="pagenum">[274]</span>she had recommended to my mother as a governess for my sister, who was +now in her sixteenth year.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Liverpool</span>, August 16, 1830.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dear Mrs. Jameson</span>, +</p> + +<p>Were it not that I have a great opinion both of your kindness and +reasonableness, I should feel rather uncomfortable at the period +which has elapsed since I ought to have written to you; but I am +very sorry not to have been able sooner to reply to your last kind +letter. I shall begin by answering that which interested me most in +it, which you will easily believe was what regarded my dear A—— +and the person into whose hands she is about to be committed. In +proportion to the value of the gem is the dread one feels of the +flaws and injuries it may receive in the process of cutting and +polishing; and this, of course, not in this case alone, but that of +every child who still is parent to the man (or woman). My mother +said in one of her letters, "I have engaged a lady to be A——'s +governess." Of course the <i>have</i> must make the expression of regret +or anxiety undesirable, since both are unavailing. I hope it is the +lady you spoke of in your letter to me, for I like very much the +description you give of her, and in answer to the doubt you express +as to whether <i>I</i> could be pleased with a person wanting in +superficial brilliancy and refinement of intellect, I can reply +unequivocally <i>yes</i>. I could be well pleased with such a person for +my own companion, if the absence of such qualities were atoned for +by sound judgment and sterling principle; and I am certain that +such a person is best calculated to undertake the task which she is +to perform in our house with good effect. The defect of our home +education is that from the mental tendencies of all of us, no less +than from our whole mode of life, the more imaginative and refined +intellectual qualities are fostered in us in preference to our +reasoning powers. We have all excitable natures, and, whether in +head or heart, that is a disadvantage. The unrestrained indulgence +of feeling is as injurious to moral strength as the undue excess of +fancy is to mental vigor. I think young people would always be the +better for the influence of persons of strong sense, rather than +strong sensibility, who, by fortifying their reason, correct any +tendency to that morbid excitability which is so dangerous to +happiness or usefulness.</p> + +<p>I do not, of course, mean that one can eradicate any element of the +original character—that I believe to be impossible; nor is direct +opposition to natural tendencies of much use, for that <a name="Page_275" id="Page_275" ></a><span class="pagenum">[275]</span>is really +cultivating qualities by resistance; but by encouraging other +faculties, and by putting aside all that has a tendency to weaken +and enervate, the mind will assume a robust and healthy tone, and +the real feelings will acquire strength by being under reasonable +control and by the suppression of factitious ones. A——'s +education in point of accomplishments and general cultivation of +taste and intellect is already fairly advanced; and the lady who +is, I hope, now to be her companion and directress will be none the +worse for wanting the merely ornamental branches of culture, +provided she holds them at their due value, and neither <i>under</i> nor +<i>over</i> estimates them because she is without them. I hope she is +gentle and attractive in her manners, for it is essential that one +should like as well as respect one's teachers; and should these +qualities be added to the character you give of her, I am sure I +should like her for a governess very much myself. You see by the +room this subject has occupied in my letter how much it fills in my +mind; human souls, minds, and bodies are precious and wonderful +things, and to fit the whole creature for its proper aim here and +hereafter, a solemn and arduous work.</p> + +<p>Now to other matters. You reproach me very justly for my stupid +oversight; I forgot to tell you which name appeared to me best for +your book; the fact is, I flew off into ecstasies about the work +itself, and gave you, I believe, a tirade about the "Tempest" +instead of the opinion you asked. I agree with you that there is +much in the name of a work; it is almost as desirable that a book +should be well called as that it should be well written; a +promising title-page is like an agreeable face, an inducement to +further acquaintance, and an earnest of future pleasure. For +myself, I prefer "Characters of Shakespeare's Women;" it is +shorter, and I think will look better than the other in print.</p> + +<p>I have been spending a few happy days, previous to my departure +from Ireland, in a charming place and in the companionship of a +person I love dearly. All my powers of enjoyment have been +constantly occupied, and I have had a breathing-time of rest and +real pleasure before I recommence my work. Such seasons are like +angel's visits, but I suppose one ought to rejoice that they are +allowed us at all, rather than complain of their brevity and +infrequency. I am getting weary of wandering, and long to be once +more settled at home.</p> + +<p>What say you to this French revolution? Have not they made good use +of their time, that in so few years from their last bloody national +convulsion men's minds should so have <a name="Page_276" id="Page_276" ></a><span class="pagenum">[276]</span>advanced and expanded in +France as to enable the people to overturn the government and +change the whole course of public affairs with such comparative +moderation and small loss of, life? I was still in Dublin when the +news of the recent events in France reached us, and I never +witnessed anything so like tipsiness as Lady Morgan's delight at +it. I believe she wished herself a Frenchwoman with all her heart, +and she declared she would go over as soon as her next work, which +is in the hands of the publisher, was out. Were I a man, I should +have been well pleased to have been in France some weeks ago; the +rising of the nation against oppression and abuse, and the creating +of a new and better state of things without any outbreak of popular +excess, must have been a fine thing to see. But as a woman, +incapable of mixing personally in such scenes, I would rather have +the report of them at a distance than witness them as a mere +inactive spectator; for though the loss of life has been +comparatively small, considering the great end that has been +achieved, it must be horrible to see bloodshed, even that of a +single individual. I believe I am a great coward. I shall not close +this to-night, but wait till to-morrow, to tell you how my first +appearance here goes off.</p> + +<p class="dateline"><span class="smcap">Tuesday</span>, August 17th.</p> + +<p>We had a very fine house indeed last night, and everything went off +remarkably well. I had every reason to be satisfied with the +audience, who, though proverbially a cold one, were exceedingly +enthusiastic in their applause, which, I suppose, is the best +indication that they were satisfied with me. Good-by, my dear Mrs. +Jameson; believe me yours ever truly,</p> + +<p class="signature">F. A. K.</p></div> + +<p>The intention of engaging a governess for my sister was not carried out, +and she was taken to Paris and placed under the charge of Mrs. Foster, +wife of the chaplain of the British embassy, under whose care she +pursued her general education, while with the tuition of the celebrated +Bordogni, the first singing-master of the day, she cultivated her fine +voice and developed her musical genius.</p> + +<p>The French Revolution of 1830, which placed Louis Philippe of Orleans on +the throne, and sent Charles X. to end his days in an obscure corner of +Germany, was the first of four revolutions which I have lived to +witness; and since then I have often thought of a lady who, during the +next political catastrophe, by which Louis Philippe was shaken out of +his seat, show<a name="Page_277" id="Page_277" ></a><span class="pagenum">[277]</span>ing Mrs. Grote the conveniences of a charming apartment in +a central part of Paris, said, "Voici mon salon, voici ma salle à +manger, et voyez comme c'est commode! De cette fenêtre je vois mes +révolutions." The younger Bourbon of the Orleans branch had learned part +of the lesson of government (of which even the most intelligent of that +race seem destined never to learn the whole) in democratic America and +democratic Switzerland. Perhaps it was in these two essentially +<i>bourgeois</i> countries that he learned the only virtues that +distinguished him as the <i>Roi Bourgeois, par excellence</i>.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Heaton Park</span>, September 18, 1830.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dear Mrs. Jameson</span>, +</p> + +<p>Were it not that I should be ashamed to look you in the face when +we meet, which I hope will now be soon, I should be much tempted to +defer thanking you for your last kind letter until that period, for +I am at this moment in the bustle of three departures. My mother +arrived in Manchester this morning, whence my aunt Dall starts +to-night for Buckinghamshire, and my father to-morrow morning at +seven o'clock for London, and at eight my mother and myself start +for Liverpool. I am most anxious to be there for the opening of the +railroad, which takes place on Wednesday. I act in Manchester on +Friday, and after that we shall spend some days with Lord and Lady +W——, at their seat near there; and then I return to London to +begin my winter campaign, when I hope to see you less oppressed +with anxiety and vexation than you were when we parted there. And +now, what shall I say to you? My life for the last three weeks has +been so hurried and busy that, while I have matter for many long +letters, I have hardly time for condensation; you know what Madame +de Sévigné says, "Si j'avais eu plus de temps, je t'aurais écrit +moins longuement." I have been sight-seeing and acting for the last +month, and the first occupation is really the more exhausting of +the two. I will give you a <i>carte</i>, and when we meet you shall call +upon me for a detail of any or all of its contents.</p> + +<p>I have seen the fine, picturesque old town of Chester; I have seen +Liverpool, its docks, its cemetery, its railway, on which I was +flown away with by a steam-engine, at the rate of five and thirty +miles an hour; I have seen Manchester, power-looms, +spinning-jennies, cotton factories, etc.; I have stayed at the +pleasant modern mansion of Heaton; I have visited Hopwood Hall, +built in the reign of Edward the First, and still retaining its +carved old oaken chimneys and paneled chambers <a name="Page_278" id="Page_278" ></a><span class="pagenum">[278]</span>and latticed +windows, and intricate ups and downs of internal architecture, to +present use apparently as purposeless and inconvenient as if one +was living in a cat's-cradle. I have seen a rush-bearing with its +classical morris dance, executed in honor of some antique +observance by the country folk of Lancashire, with whom this +commemoration, but no knowledge of its original significance, +remains. I have seen Birmingham, its button-making, pin-making, +plating, stamping, etc.; I have seen Aston Hall, an old house two +miles from the town, and two hundred from everything in it, where +Charles the First slept after the battle of Edge Hill, and whose +fine old staircase still retains the marks of Cromwell's +cannon,—which house, moreover, possesses an oaken gallery one +hundred and odd feet long, hung with old portraits, one of the most +delightful apartments imaginable. How I did sin in envy, and long +for that nice room to walk up and down and dream and poetize in; +but as I know of no earthly way of compassing this desirable +acquisition but offering myself in exchange for it to its present +possessor (who might not think well of the bargain), <i>il n'y faut +plus penser</i>. Moreover, as the grapes are sour, I conclude that +upon the whole it might not be an advantageous one for me. I am at +this moment writing in a drawing-room full of people, at Heaton +(Lord W——'s place), taking up my pen to talk to you and laying it +down to talk to others. I must now, however, close my double and +divided conversation, because I have not brains enough to play at +two games at once. I am ever yours, very sincerely,</p> + +<p class="signature">F. A. K.</p></div> + +<p>While we were acting at Liverpool an experimental trip was proposed upon +the line of railway which was being constructed between Liverpool and +Manchester, the first mesh of that amazing iron net which now covers the +whole surface of England and all the civilized portions of the earth. +The Liverpool merchants, whose far-sighted self-interest prompted them +to wise liberality, had accepted the risk of George Stephenson's +magnificent experiment, which the committee of inquiry of the House of +Commons had rejected for the government. These men, of less intellectual +culture than the Parliament members, had the adventurous imagination +proper to great speculators, which is the poetry of the counting-house +and wharf, and were better able to receive the enthusiastic infection of +the great projector's sanguine hope that the Westminster committee. They +were exultant and triumphant at the near completion of the <a name="Page_279" id="Page_279" ></a><span class="pagenum">[279]</span>work, though, +of course, not without some misgivings as to the eventual success of the +stupendous enterprise. My father knew several of the gentlemen most +deeply interested in the undertaking, and Stephenson having proposed a +trial trip as far as the fifteen-mile viaduct, they, with infinite +kindness, invited him and permitted me to accompany them; allowing me, +moreover, the place which I felt to be one of supreme honor, by the side +of Stephenson. All that wonderful history, as much more interesting than +a romance as truth is stranger than fiction, which Mr. Smiles's +biography of the projector has given in so attractive a form to the +world, I then heard from his own lips. He was a rather stern-featured +man, with a dark and deeply marked countenance; his speech was strongly +inflected with his native Northumbrian accent, but the fascination of +that story told by himself, while his tame dragon flew panting along his +iron pathway with us, passed the first reading of the "Arabian Nights," +the incidents of which it almost seemed to recall. He was wonderfully +condescending and kind in answering all the questions of my eager +ignorance, and I listened to him with eyes brimful of warm tears of +sympathy and enthusiasm, as he told me of all his alternations of hope +and fear, of his many trials and disappointments, related with fine +scorn how the "Parliament men" had badgered and baffled him with their +book-knowledge, and how, when at last they thought they had smothered +the irrepressible prophecy of his genius in the quaking depths of +Chatmoss, he had exclaimed, "Did ye ever see a boat float on water? I +will make my road float upon Chatmoss!" The well-read Parliament men +(some of whom, perhaps, wished for no railways near their parks and +pleasure-grounds) could not believe the miracle, but the shrewd +Liverpool merchants, helped to their faith by a great vision of immense +gain, did; and so the railroad was made, and I took this memorable ride +by the side of its maker, and would not have exchanged the honor and +pleasure of it for one of the shares in the speculation.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Liverpool</span>, August 26th.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dear H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>A common sheet of paper is enough for love, but a foolscap extra +can alone contain a railroad and my ecstasies. There was once a +man, who was born at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, who was a common +coal-digger; this man had an immense constructiveness, which +displayed itself in pulling his watch to pieces and putting it +together again; in making a pair of shoes <a name="Page_280" id="Page_280" ></a><span class="pagenum">[280]</span>when he happened to be +some days without occupation; finally—here there is a great gap in +my story—it brought him in the capacity of an engineer before a +committee of the House of Commons, with his head full of plans for +constructing a railroad from Liverpool to Manchester. It so +happened that to the quickest and most powerful perceptions and +conceptions, to the most indefatigable industry and perseverance, +and the most accurate knowledge of the phenomena of nature as they +affect his peculiar labors, this man joined an utter want of the +"gift of the gab;" he could no more explain to others what he meant +to do and how he meant to do it, than he could fly; and therefore +the members of the House of Commons, after saying, "There is rock +to be excavated to a depth of more than sixty feet, there are +embankments to be made nearly to the same height, there is a swamp +of five miles in length to be traversed, in which if you drop an +iron rod it sinks and disappears: how will you do all this?" and +receiving no answer but a broad Northumbrian "I can't tell you how +I'll do it, but I can tell you I <i>will</i> do it," dismissed +Stephenson as a visionary. Having prevailed upon a company of +Liverpool gentlemen to be less incredulous, and having raised funds +for his great undertaking, in December of 1826 the first spade was +struck into the ground. And now I will give you an account of my +yesterday's excursion. A party of sixteen persons was ushered, into +a large court-yard, where, under cover, stood several carriages of +a peculiar construction, one of which was prepared for our +reception. It was a long-bodied vehicle with seats placed across +it, back to back; the one we were in had six of these benches, and +was a sort of uncovered <i>char à banc</i>. The wheels were placed upon +two iron bands, which formed the road, and to which they are +fitted, being so constructed as to slide along without any danger +of hitching or becoming displaced, on the same principle as a thing +sliding on a concave groove. The carriage was set in motion by a +mere push, and, having received, this impetus, rolled with us down +an inclined plane into a tunnel, which forms the entrance to the +railroad. This tunnel is four hundred yards long (I believe), and +will be lighted by gas. At the end of it we emerged from darkness, +and, the ground becoming level, we stopped. There is another tunnel +parallel with this, only much wider and longer, for it extends from +the place which we had now reached, and where the steam-carriages +start, and which is quite out of Liverpool, the whole way under the +town, to the docks. This tunnel is for wagons and other heavy +carriages; and as the engines which <a name="Page_281" id="Page_281" ></a><span class="pagenum">[281]</span>are to draw the trains along +the railroad do not enter these tunnels, there is a large building +at this entrance which is to be inhabited by steam-engines of a +stationary turn of mind, and different constitution from the +traveling ones, which are to propel the trains through the tunnels +to the terminus in the town, without going out of their houses +themselves. The length of the tunnel parallel to the one we passed +through is (I believe) two thousand two hundred yards. I wonder if +you are understanding one word I am saying all this while! We were +introduced to the little engine which was to drag us along the +rails. She (for they make these curious little fire-horses all +mares) consisted of a boiler, a stove, a small platform, a bench, +and behind the bench a barrel containing enough water to prevent +her being thirsty for fifteen miles,—the whole machine not bigger +than a common fire-engine. She goes upon two wheels, which are her +feet, and are moved by bright steel legs called pistons; these are +propelled by steam, and in proportion as more steam is applied to +the upper extremities (the hip-joints, I suppose) of these pistons, +the faster they move the wheels; and when it is desirable to +diminish the speed, the steam, which unless suffered to escape +would burst the boiler, evaporates through a safety-valve into the +air. The reins, bit, and bridle of this wonderful beast is a small +steel handle, which applies or withdraws the steam from its legs or +pistons, so that a child might manage it. The coals, which are its +oats, were under the bench, and there was a small glass tube +affixed to the boiler, with water in it, which indicates by its +fullness or emptiness when the creature wants water, which is +immediately conveyed to it from its reservoirs. There is a chimney +to the stove, but as they burn coke there is none of the dreadful +black smoke which accompanies the progress of a steam vessel. This +snorting little animal, which I felt rather inclined to pat, was +then harnessed to our carriage, and, Mr. Stephenson having taken me +on the bench of the engine with him, we started at about ten miles +an hour. The steam-horse being ill adapted for going up and down +hill, the road was kept at a certain level, and appeared sometimes +to sink below the surface of the earth, and sometimes to rise above +it. Almost at starting it was cut through the solid rock, which +formed a wall on either side of it, about sixty feet high. You +can't imagine how strange it seemed to be journeying on thus, +without any visible cause of progress other than the magical +machine, with its flying white breath and rhythmical, unvarying +pace, between these rocky walls, which are already clothed with +moss and ferns and <a name="Page_282" id="Page_282" ></a><span class="pagenum">[282]</span>grasses; and when I reflected that these great +masses of stone had been cut asunder to allow our passage thus far +below the surface of the earth, I felt as if no fairy tale was ever +half so wonderful as what I saw. Bridges were thrown from side to +side across the top of these cliffs, and the people looking down +upon us from them seemed like pigmies standing in the sky. I must +be more concise, though, or I shall want room. We were to go only +fifteen miles, that distance being sufficient to show the speed of +the engine, and to take us on to the most beautiful and wonderful +object on the road. After proceeding through this rocky defile, we +presently found ourselves raised upon embankments ten or twelve +feet high; we then came to a moss, or swamp, of considerable +extent, on which no human foot could tread without sinking, and yet +it bore the road which bore us. This had been the great +stumbling-block in the minds of the committee of the House of +Commons; but Mr. Stephenson has succeeded in overcoming it. A +foundation of hurdles, or, as he called it, basket-work, was thrown +over the morass, and the interstices were filled with moss and +other elastic matter. Upon this the clay and soil were laid down, +and the road does float, for we passed over it at the rate of five +and twenty miles an hour, and saw the stagnant swamp water +trembling on the surface of the soil on either side of us. I hope +you understand me. The embankment had gradually been rising higher +and higher, and in one place, where the soil was not settled enough +to form banks, Stephenson had constructed artificial ones of +wood-work, over which the mounds of earth were heaped, for he said +that though the wood-work would rot, before it did so the banks of +earth which covered it would have been sufficiently consolidated to +support the road.</p> + +<p>We had now come fifteen miles, and stopped where the road traversed +a wide and deep valley. Stephenson made me alight and led me down +to the bottom of this ravine, over which, in order to keep his road +level, he has thrown a magnificent viaduct of nine arches, the +middle one of which is seventy feet high, through which we saw the +whole of this beautiful little valley. It was lovely and wonderful +beyond all words. He here told me many curious things respecting +this ravine: how he believed the Mersey had once rolled through it; +how the soil had proved so unfavorable for the foundation of his +bridge that it was built upon piles, which had been driven into the +earth to an enormous depth; how, while digging for a foundation, he +had come to a tree bedded in the earth fourteen feet below the +surface of the ground; how tides are caused, and <a name="Page_283" id="Page_283" ></a><span class="pagenum">[283]</span>how another flood +might be caused; all of which I have remembered and noted down at +much greater length than I can enter upon it here. He explained to +me the whole construction of the steam-engine, and said he could +soon make a famous engineer of me, which, considering the wonderful +things he has achieved, I dare not say is impossible. His way of +explaining himself is peculiar, but very striking, and I +understood, without difficulty, all that he said to me. We then +rejoined the rest of the party, and the engine having received its +supply of water, the carriage was placed behind it, for it cannot +turn, and was set off at its utmost speed, thirty-five miles an +hour, swifter than a bird flies (for they tried the experiment with +a snipe). You cannot conceive what that sensation of cutting the +air was; the motion is as smooth as possible, too. I could either +have read or written; and as it was, I stood up, and with my bonnet +off "drank the air before me." The wind, which was strong, or +perhaps the force of our own thrusting against it, absolutely +weighed my eyelids down. [I remember a similar experience to this, +the first time I attempted to go behind the sheet of the cataract +of Niagara; the wind coming from beneath the waterfall met me with +such direct force that it literally bore down my eyelids, and I had +to put off the attempt of penetrating behind the curtain of foam +till another day, when that peculiar accident; was less directly +hostile to me in its conditions.] When I closed my eyes this +sensation of flying was quite delightful, and strange beyond +description; yet, strange as it was, I had a perfect sense of +security, and not the slightest fear. At one time, to exhibit the +power of the engine, having met another steam-carriage which was +unsupplied with water, Mr. Stephenson caused it to be fastened in +front of ours; moreover, a wagon laden with timber was also chained +to us, and thus propelling the idle steam-engine, and dragging the +loaded wagon which was beside it, and our own carriage full of +people behind, this brave little she-dragon of ours flew on. +Farther on she met three carts, which, being fastened in front of +her, she pushed on before her without the slightest delay or +difficulty; when I add that this pretty little creature can run +with equal facility either backward or forward, I believe I have +given you an account of all her capacities.</p> + +<p>Now for a word or two about the master of all these marvels, with +whom I am most horribly in love. He is a man of from fifty to +fifty-five years of age; his face is fine, though careworn, and +bears an expression of deep thoughtfulness; his mode of explaining +his ideas is peculiar and very original, striking, and <a name="Page_284" id="Page_284" ></a><span class="pagenum">[284]</span>forcible; +and although his accent indicates strongly his north-country birth, +his language has not the slightest touch of vulgarity or +coarseness. He has certainly turned my head.</p> + +<p>Four years have sufficed to bring this great undertaking to an end. +The railroad will be opened upon the 15th of next month. The Duke +of Wellington is coming down to be present on the occasion, and, I +suppose, what with the thousands of spectators and the novelty of +the spectacle, there will never have been a scene of more striking +interest. The whole cost of the work (including the engines and +carriages) will have been eight hundred and thirty thousand pounds; +and it is already worth double that sum. The directors have kindly +offered us three places for the opening, which is a great favor, +for people are bidding almost anything for a place, I understand; +but I fear we shall be obliged to decline them, as my father is +most anxious to take Henry over to Heidelberg before our season of +work in London begins, which will take place on the first of +October. I think there is every probability of our having a very +prosperous season. London will be particularly gay this winter, and +the king and queen, it is said, are fond of dramatic +entertainments, so that I hope we shall get on well. You will be +glad to hear that our houses here have been very fine, and that +to-night, Friday, which was my benefit, the theater was crowded in +every corner. We do not play here any more, but on Monday we open +at Manchester. You will, I know, be happy to hear that, by way of +answer to the letter I told you I had written my mother, I received +a very delightful one from my dear little sister, the first I have +had from her since I left London. She is a little jewel, and it +will be a sin if she is marred in the cutting and polishing, or if +she is set in tawdry French pinchbeck, instead of fine, strong, +sterling gold. I am sorry to say that the lady Mrs. Jameson +recommended as her governess has not been thought sufficiently +accomplished to undertake the charge. I regret this the more, as in +a letter I have just received from Mrs. Jameson she speaks with +more detail of this lady's qualifications, which seem to me +peculiarly adapted to have a good effect upon such a mind and +character as A——'s.</p> + +<p>I wish I had been with your girls at their ball, and come back from +it and found you holding communion with the skies. My dearest +H——, sublime and sweet and holy as are the feelings with which I +look up to the star-paved heavens, or to the glorious summer sun, +or listen to the music of the great waves, I do not for an instant +mistake the adoration of the almighty <a name="Page_285" id="Page_285" ></a><span class="pagenum">[285]</span>power manifested in these +works of God, for religion. You tell me to beware of mixing up +emotional or imaginative excitement with my devotion. And I think I +can truly answer that I do not do so. I told you that the cathedral +service was not prayer to me; nor do I ever confound a mere +emotional or imaginative enthusiasm, even when excited by the +highest of all objects of contemplation, with the daily and hourly +endeavor after righteousness—the humble trust, resignation, +obedience, and thankfulness, which I believe constitute the vital +part of religious faith. I humbly hope I keep the sacred ground of +my religion clear from whatever does not belong to the spirit of +its practice. As long as I can remember, I have endeavored to guard +against mistaking emotion for religion, and have even sometimes +been apprehensive lest the admiration I felt for certain passages +in the Psalms and the Hebrew prophets should make me forget the +more solemn and sacred purposes of the book of life, and the glad +tidings of our salvation. And though, when I look up as you did at +the worlds with which our midnight sky is studded, I feel inclined +to break out, "The heavens declare the glory of God," or, when I +stand upon the shore, can hardly refrain from crying aloud, "The +sea is His, and He made it," I do not in these moments of sublime +emotion forget that He is the God to whom all hearts be open; who, +from the moment I rise until I lie down to rest, witnesses my every +thought and feeling; to whom I look for support against the evil of +my own nature and the temptations which He allots me, who bestows +every blessing and inspires every good impulse, who will strengthen +me for every duty and trial: my Father, in whom I live and move and +have my being. I do not fear that my imagination will become +over-excited with thoughts such as these, but I often regret most +bitterly that my heart is not more deeply touched by them. Your +definition of the love of God seemed almost like a reproach to my +conscience. How miserably our practice halts behind our knowledge +of good, even when tried at the bar of our own lenient judgment, +and by our imperfect standard of right! how poorly does our life +answer to our profession! I should speak in the singular, for I am +only uttering my own self-condemnation. But as the excellence we +adore surpasses our comprehension, so does the mercy, and in that +lies our only trust and confidence.</p> + +<p>I fear Miss W—— either has not received my letter or does not +mean to answer it, for I have received no reply, and I dare not try +again. Up to a certain point I am impudent enough, <a name="Page_286" id="Page_286" ></a><span class="pagenum">[286]</span>but not beyond +that. Why do you threaten me with dancing to me? Have I lately +given you cause to think I deserve to have such a punishment hung +<i>in terrorem</i> over me? Besides, threatening me is injudicious, for +it rouses a spirit of resistance in me not easy to break down. I +assure you <i>o</i> [in allusion to my mispronunciation of that vowel] +is really greatly improved. I take much pains with it, as also with +my deportment; they will, I hope, no longer annoy you when next we +meet. You must not call Mrs. J—— my friend, for I do not. I like +her much, and I see a great deal to esteem and admire in her, but I +do not <i>yet</i> call her my friend. You are my friend, and Mrs. Harry +Siddons is my friend, and you are the only persons I call by that +name. I have read "Paul Clifford," according to your desire, and +like it very much; it is written with a good purpose, and very +powerfully. You asked me if I believed such selfishness as +Brandon's to be natural, and I said yes, not having read the book, +but merely from your report of him; and, having read the book, I +say so still.</p></div> + + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Dublin</span>, August, 1830.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dear H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I should have answered your letter sooner had I before been able to +give you any certain intelligence of our theatrical proceedings +next week, but I was so afraid of some change taking place in the +list of the plays that I resolved not to write until alteration was +impossible. The plays for next week are, on Monday, "Venice +Preserved;" on Wednesday, "The Grecian Daughter;" Thursday, "The +Merchant of Venice." I wish your people may be able to come up, the +latter end of the week; I think "Romeo and Juliet," and "The +Merchant of Venice," are nice plays for them to see. But you have, +I know, an invitation from Mrs. J—— to come into town on Monday. +I do not know whether my wishes have at all influenced her in this, +but she has my very best thanks for it, and I know that they will +have some weight with you in inclining you to accept it; do, my +dearest H——, come if you can. I shall certainly not be able to +return to Ardgillan, and so my only chance of seeing you depends +upon your coming into Dublin. I wish I had been with you when you +sat in the sun and list<a name="Page_287" id="Page_287" ></a><span class="pagenum">[287]</span>ened to the wind singing over the sea. I +have a great admiration for the wind, not so much for its purifying +influences only, as for its invisible power, strength, the quality +above all others without which there is neither moral nor mental +greatness possible. Natural objects endowed with this invisible +power please me best, as human beings who possess it attract me +most; and my preference for it over other elements of character is +because I think it communicates itself, and that while in contact +with it one feels as if it were <i>catching</i>; and whether by the +shore, when the tide is coming up fast and irresistible, or in the +books or intercourse of other minds, it seems to rouse +corresponding activity and energy in one's self, persuading one, +for the time being, that one is strong. I am sure I have felt +taller by three inches, as well as three times more vigorous in +body and mind, than I really am, when running by the sea. It seemed +as if that great mass of waters, as it rushed and roared by my +side, was communicating power directly to my mind as well as my +bodily frame, by its companionship. I wish I was on the shore now +with you. It is surprising (talking of E——) how instantaneously, +and by what subtle, indescribable means, certain qualities of +individual natures make themselves felt—refinement, imagination, +poetical sensibility. People's voices, looks, and gestures betray +these so unconsciously; and I think more by the manner, a great +deal, than the matter of their speech. Refinement, particularly, is +a wonderfully subtle, penetrating element; nothing is so positive +in its effect, and nothing so completely escapes analysis and +defies description.</p> + +<p>I am glad dear little H—— thought I "grew pretty;" there is a +world of discrimination in that sentence of his. To your charge +that I should cultivate my judgment in preference to my +imagination, I can only answer, "I am ready and willing to do so;" +but it is nevertheless not altogether easy for me to do it. My life +in London leaves me neither time nor opportunity for any +self-culture, and it seems to me as if my best faculties were lying +fallow, while a comparatively unimportant talent, and my physical +powers, were being taxed to the uttermost. The profession I have +embraced is supposed to stimulate powerfully the imagination. I do +not find it so; it appeals to mine in a slight degree compared with +other pursuits; it is too definite in its object and too confined +in its scope to excite my imagination strongly; and, moreover, it +carries with it the antidote of its own excitement in the necessary +conditions under which it is exercised. Were it possible to act +with one's mind alone, the case might be different; but the body is +so indispensable, un<a name="Page_288" id="Page_288" ></a><span class="pagenum">[288]</span>luckily, to the execution of one's most +poetical conceptions on the stage, that the imaginative powers are +under very severe though imperceptible restraint. Acting seems to +me rather like dancing hornpipes in fetters. And, by no means the +least difficult part of the business is to preserve one's own +feelings warm, and one's imagination excited, while one is aiming +entirely at producing effects upon others; surrounded, moreover, as +one is, by objects which, while they heighten the illusion to the +distant spectator, all but destroy it to us of the <i>dramatis +personæ</i>. None of this, however, lessens the value and importance +of your advice, or my own conviction that "mental bracing" is good +for me. My reception on Monday was quite overpowering, and I was +escorted back to the hotel, after the play, by a body-guard of +about two hundred men, shouting and hurrahing like mad; strange to +say, they were people of perfectly respectable appearance. My +father was not with us, and they opened the carriage door and let +down the steps, when we got home, and helped us out, clapping, and +showering the most fervent expressions of good-will upon me and +aunt Dall, whom they took for my mother. One young man exclaimed +pathetically, "Oh, I hope ye're not too much fatigued, Miss Kemble, +by your exertions!" They formed a line on each side of me, and +several of them dropped on their knees to look under my bonnet, as +I ran laughing, with my head down, from the carriage to the house. +I was greatly confused and a little frightened, as well as amused +and gratified, by their cordial demonstration.</p> + +<p>The humors of a Dublin audience, much as I had heard of them before +going to Ireland, surprised and diverted me very much. The second +night of our acting there, as we were leaving the theater by the +private entrance, we found the carriage surrounded by a crowd +eagerly waiting for our coming out. As soon as my father appeared, +there was a shout of "Three cheers for Misther Char-<i>les!</i>" then +came Dall, and "Three cheers for Misthriss Char-<i>les!</i>" then I, and +"Three cheers for Miss Fanny!" "Bedad, she looks well by +gas-light!" exclaimed one of my admirers. "Och, and bedad, she +looks well by daylight too!" retorted another, though what his +opportunity for forming that flattering opinion of the genuineness +of my good looks had been, I cannot imagine. What further remarks +passed upon us I do not know, as we drove off laughing, and left +our friends still vociferously cheering. My father told us one day +of his being followed up Sackville Street by two beggar-women, +between whom the following dialogue <a name="Page_289" id="Page_289" ></a><span class="pagenum">[289]</span>passed, evidently with a view +to his edification: "Och, but he's an iligant man, is Misther +Char-<i>les</i> Kemble!" "An' 'deed, so was his brudher Misther John, +thin—a moighty foine man! and to see his <i>demanour</i>, puttin' his +hand in his pocket and givin' me sixpence, bate all the worrld!" +When I was acting Lady Townley, in the scene where her husband +complains of her late hours and she insolently retorts, "I won't +come home till four, to-morrow morning," and receives the startling +reply with which Lord Townley leaves her, "Then, madam, you shall +never come home again," I was apt to stand for a moment aghast at +this threat; and one night during this pause of breathless dismay, +one of my gallery auditors, thinking, I suppose, that I was wanting +in proper spirit not to make some rejoinder, exclaimed, "Now thin, +Fanny!" which very nearly upset the gravity produced by my father's +impressive exit, both in me and in the audience.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Dublin</span>, Friday, August 6, 1830.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I fear I caused you a disappointment by not writing to you +yesterday afternoon, but as it was not until between five and six +o'clock that I learned we were not going to Cork, when I thought of +writing you to that effect I found I was too late for the post. I +hope still that Dall and I may be able to come to Ardgillan again, +but we cannot leave my father alone here, and his departure for +Liverpool is at present quite uncertain. I have been trying to +reason myself into patience, notwithstanding a very childish +inclination to cry about it, which I think I will indulge because I +shall be able to be so much more reasonable without this stupid +lump in my throat.</p> + +<p>I hope I may see you again, dear H——. You are wrong when you say +you cannot be of service to me; I can judge better of the value of +your intercourse to me than you can, and I wish I could have the +advantage of more of it before I plunge back into "toil and +trouble." I have two very opposite feelings about my present +avocation: utter dislike to it and everything, connected with it, +and an upbraiding sense of ingratitude when I reflect how +prosperous and smooth my entrance upon my career has been. I hope, +ere long, to be able to remember habitually what only occasionally +occurs to me now, as a comfort and support, that since it was right +for me to embrace this profession, it is incumbent upon me to +banish all selfish regrets about the surrender of my personal +tastes and feelings, which must be sacrificed to real and useful +results for myself and <a name="Page_290" id="Page_290" ></a><span class="pagenum">[290]</span>others. You see, I write as I talk, still +about myself; and I am sometimes afraid that my very desire to +improve keeps me occupied too much about myself and will make a +little moral egotist of me. I am going to bid good-by to Miss W—— +this morning; I should like her to like me; I believe I should +value her friendship as I ought. Good friends are like the shrubs +and trees that grow on a steep ascent: while we toil up, and our +eyes are fixed on the summit, we unconsciously grasp and lean upon +them for support and assistance on our way. God bless you, dear +H——. I hope to be with you soon, but cannot say at present how +soon that may be.</p> + +<p class="signature">F. A. K.</p></div> + +<p>A very delightful short visit to my friend at Ardgillan preceded my +resuming my theatrical work at Liverpool, whence I wrote her the +following letter:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Liverpool</span> August 19, 1830.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dear H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I received your letter about an hour ago, at rehearsal, and though +I read it with rather dim eyes, I managed to swallow my tears, and +go on with Mrs. Beverley.</p> + +<p>The depth and solemnity of your feelings, my dear H——, on those +important subjects of which we have so often spoken together, +almost make me fear, sometimes, that I am not so much impressed as +I ought to be with their <i>awfulness</i>. I humbly hope I <i>fear</i> as I +ought, but it is so much easier for me to love than to fear, that +my nature instinctively fastens on those aspects of religion which +inspire confidence and impart support, rather than those which +impress with dread. I was thinking the other day how constantly in +all our prayers the loftiest titles of might are added to that Name +of names, "Our Father," and yet His power is always less present to +my mind than His mercy and love. You tell me I do not know you, and +that may very well be, for one really <i>knows</i> no one; and when I +reflect upon and attempt to analyze the various processes of my own +rather shallow mind, and find them incomprehensible, I am only +surprised that there should be so much mutual affection in a world +where mutual knowledge and understanding are really impossible.</p> + +<p>My side-ache was much better yesterday. I believe it was caused by +the pain of leaving you and Ardgillan: any strong emotion causes +it, and I remember when I last left Edinburgh having an attack of +it that brought on erysipelas. You say <a name="Page_291" id="Page_291" ></a><span class="pagenum">[291]</span>you wish to know how Juliet +does. Why, very well, poor thing. She had a very fine first house +indeed, and her success has been as great as you could wish it; out +of our ten nights' engagement, "Romeo and Juliet" is to be given +four times; it has already been acted three successive nights to +very great houses. To-night it is "The Gamester," to-morrow "Venice +Preserved," and on Saturday we act at Manchester, and on Monday +here again. You will hardly imagine how irksome it was to me to be +once more in my stage-trappings, and in the glare of the theater +instead of the blessed sunshine in the country, and to hear the +murmur of congregated human beings instead of that sound of many +waters, that wonderful sea-song, that is to me like the voice of a +dear friend. I made a great effort to conquer this feeling of +repugnance to my work, and thought of my dear Mrs. Harry, whom I +have seen, with a heart and mind torn with anxiety, leave poor +Lizzy on what seemed almost a death-bed, to go and do her duty at +the theater. That was something like a trial. There was a poor old +lady, of more than seventy years of age, who acted as my nurse, who +helped also to rouse me from my selfish morbidness—age and +infirmity laboring in the same path with rather more cause for +weariness and disgust than I have. She may have been working, too, +only for herself, while I am the means of helping my own dear +people, and many others; she toils on, unnoticed and neglected, +while my exertions are stimulated and rewarded by success and the +approval of every one about me. And yet my task is sadly +distasteful to me; it seems such useless work that but for its very +useful pecuniary results I think I would rather make shoes. You +tell me of the comfort you derive, under moral depression, from +picking stones and weeds out of your garden. I am afraid that +antidote would prove insufficient for me; the weeds would very soon +lie in heaps in my lap, and the stones accumulate in little +mountains all round me, while my mind was sinking into +contemplations of the nature of slow quicksands. Violent bodily +exercise, riding, or climbing up steep and rugged pathways are my +best remedies for the blue devils.</p> + +<p>My father has received a pressing invitation from Lord and Lady +W—— to go to their place, Heaton, which is but five miles from +Manchester.</p> + +<p>You say to me in your last letter that you could not live at the +rate I do; but my life is very different now from what it was while +with you. I am silent and quiet and oppressed with irksome duties, +and altogether a different creature from your late companion by the +sea-shore. It is true that that <i>was</i> my <a name="Page_292" id="Page_292" ></a><span class="pagenum">[292]</span>natural condition, but if +you were here with me now, in the midst of all these unnatural +sights and sounds, I do not think I should weary you with my +overflowing life and spirits, as I fear I did at Ardgillan. I was +as happy there as the birds that fly in the clear sky above the +sea, and much happier, for I had your companionship in addition to +the delight which mere existence is in such scenes. I am glad Lily +made and wore the wreath of lilac blossoms; I was sure it would +become her. Give her my love and thanks for having done as I asked +her. Oh, do not wish Ardgillan fifteen miles from London! Even for +the sake of seeing you, I would not bring you near the smoke and +dirt and comparative confinement of such a situation; I would not +take you from your sea and sky and trees, even to have you within +reach of me.</p> + +<p>Certainly it is the natural evil of the human mind, and not the +supernatural agency in the story of its development, that makes +Macbeth so terrible; it is the hideousness of a wicked soul, into +which enter more foul ingredients than are held in the witches' +caldron of abominations, that makes the play so tremendous. I wish +we had read that great work together. How it contrasts with what we +did read, the "Tempest," that brightest creation of a wholesome +genius in its hour of happiest inspiration!</p> + +<p>I believe some people think it presumptuous to pray for any one but +themselves; but it seems to me strange to share every, feeling with +those we love and not associate them with our best and holiest +aspirations; to remember them everywhere but there where it is of +the utmost importance to us all to be remembered; to desire all +happiness for them, and not to implore in their behalf the Giver of +all good. I think I pray even more fervently for those I love than +for myself. Pray for me, my dear H——, and God bless you and give +you strength and peace. Your affectionate</p> + +<p class="signature">F. A. K.</p> + +<p>I have not seen the railroad yet; if you do not write soon to me, +we shall be gone to Manchester.</p></div> + +<p>My objection to the dramatic profession on the score of its uselessness, +in this letter, reminds me of what my mother used to tell me of Miss +Brunton, who afterward became Lady Craven; a very eccentric as well as +attractive and charming woman, who contrived, too, to be a very charming +actress, in spite of a prosaical dislike to her business, which used to +take the peculiar and rather alarming turn of suddenly, in the midst <a name="Page_293" id="Page_293" ></a><span class="pagenum">[293]</span>of +a scene, saying aside to her fellow-actors, "What nonsense all this is! +Suppose we don't go on with it." This singular expostulation my mother +said she always expected to see followed up by the sadden exit of her +lively companion, in the middle of her part. Miss Brunton, however, had +self-command enough to go on acting till she became Countess of Craven, +and left off the <i>nonsense</i> of the stage for the <i>earnestness</i> of high +life.</p> + +<p>A very serious cause for depression had added itself to the weariness of +spirit with which my distaste for my profession often affected me. While +at Liverpool, I received a letter from my brother John which filled me +with surprise and vexation. After his return from Germany he had +expressed his determination to go into the Church; and we all supposed +him to be in the country, zealously engaged in the necessary preparatory +studies. Infinite, therefore, was my astonishment to receive from him a +letter dated from Algeciras, in Spain, telling me that he and several of +his college companions, Sterling, Barton, Trench, and Boyd among others, +had determined to lend the aid of their enthusiastic sympathy to the +cause of liberty in Spain. The "cause of liberty in Spain" was then +represented by the rash and ill-fated rising of General Torrijos against +the Spanish Government, that protean nightmare which, in one form or +another of bigotry and oppression, has ridden that unfortunate country +up to a very recent time, when civil war has again interfered with +apparently little prospect of any better result. My distress at +receiving such unexpected news from my brother was aggravated by his +forbidding me to write to him or speak of his plans and proceedings to +any one. This concealment, which would have been both difficult and +repugnant to me, was rendered impossible by the circumstances under +which his letter reached me, and we all bore together, as well as we +could, this severe disappointment and the cruel anxiety of receiving no +further intelligence from John for a considerable time. I was bitterly +grieved by this letter, which clearly indicated that the sacred +profession for which my brother had begun to prepare himself, and in +which we had hoped to see him ere long honorably and usefully laboring, +was as little likely to be steadily pursued by him as the legal career +which he had renounced for it. Richard Trench brought home a knowledge +of the Spanish tongue which has given to his own some beautiful +translations of Calderon's masterpieces; and his early crusade for the +enfranchisement of Spain has not militated against the well-deserved +distinction he <a name="Page_294" id="Page_294" ></a><span class="pagenum">[294]</span>has achieved in the high calling to which he devoted +himself. With my brother, however, the case was different. This romantic +expedition canceled all his purposes and prospects of entering the +Church, and Alfred Tennyson's fine sonnet, addressed to him when he +first determined to dedicate himself to the service of the temple, is +all that bears witness to that short-lived consecration: it was poetry, +but not prophecy.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Manchester</span>, September 3, 1830.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest</span> H——, +</p> + +<p>I received you letter and the pretty Balbriggan stockings, for +which I thank you very much, quite safely. I have not been able to +put pen to paper till now, and even now do not know whether I can +do more than just tell you that we have heard nothing further +whatever from my brother. In his letter to me he said that he would +write home whenever he could do so safely, but that no letter of +ours would reach him; and, indeed, I do not now know where he may +be. From the first moment of hearing this intelligence, which has +amazed us all so much, I have felt less miserable than I could have +thought possible under the circumstances; my mind, I think, has +hardly taken hold of the truth of what has come so unexpectedly +upon me. The very impossibility of relieving one's suspense, I +suppose, compels one not to give way to its worst suggestions, +which may, after all, be unfounded. I cannot communicate with him, +and must wait patiently till he can write again; he is in God's +hand, and I hope and pray that he may be guided and protected. My +great anxiety is to keep all knowledge of his having even gone +abroad, if possible, from my mother. She is not in a state to bear +such a shock, and I fear that the impossibility of ascertaining +anything about him at present, which helps <i>me</i> to remain tolerably +collected, would almost drive her distracted.</p> + +<p>The news of the revolt in the Netherlands, together with the fact +that one of our dear ones is away from us in scenes of peril and +disturbance, has, I think, shaken my father's purpose of sending +Henry to Heidelberg. It is a bad thing to leave a boy of eighteen +so far from home control and influences; and he is of a sweet, +affectionate, gentle disposition, that makes him liable to be +easily led and persuaded by the examples and counsels of others. +Moreover, he is at the age when boys are always in some love-scrape +or other, and if he is left alone at Heidelberg, in his own +unassisted weakness, at such a distance from us all, I should not +be surprised to hear <a name="Page_295" id="Page_295" ></a><span class="pagenum">[295]</span>that he had constituted himself the lord and +master of some blue-eyed <i>fräulein</i> with whom he could not exchange +a dozen words in her own vernacular, and had become a +<i>dis</i>-respectable <i>pater familias</i> at nineteen. In the midst of all +the worry and anxiety which these considerations occasion, we are +living here a most unsettled, flurried life of divided work and +pleasure. We have gone out to Heaton every morning after rehearsal, +and come in with the W——s in the evening, to act. I think +to-night we shall sleep there after the play, and come in with the +W——s after dinner to-morrow. They had expected us to spend some +days with them, and perhaps, after our Birmingham engagement, we +may be able to do so. Heaton is a charming specimen of a fine +country-house, and Lady W—— a charming specimen of a fine lady; +she is handsome, stately, and gentle. I like Lord W——; he is +clever, or rather accomplished, and refined. They are both of them +very kind to me, and most pressing in their entreaties that we +should return and stay as long as we can with them. To-morrow is my +last night here; on Monday we act at Birmingham, and my father +thinks we shall be able to avail ourselves of the invitation of our +Liverpool friends, and witness the opening of the railroad. This +would be a memorable pleasure, the opportunity of which should +certainly not be neglected. I have been gratified and interested +this morning and yesterday by going over one of the largest +manufactories of this place, where I have seen a number of +astonishing processes, from the fusing of iron in its roughest +state to the construction of the most complicated machinery and the +work that it performs. I have been examining and watching and +admiring power-looms, and spinning-jennies, and every species of +work accomplished by machinery. But what pleased me most of all was +the process of casting iron. Did you know that the solid masses of +iron-work which we see in powerful engines were many of them cast +in moulds of sand?—inconstant, shifting, restless sand! The +strongest iron of all, though, gets its strength beaten into it.</p> + +<p class="dateline"><span class="smcap">Birmingham</span>, September 7, 1830.</p> + +<p>You see, my dearest H——, how my conversations are liable to be +cut short in the midst; just at the point where I broke off, Lord +and Lady W—— came to fetch us to Heaton, and until this moment, +when I am quietly seated in Birmingham, I have not been able to +resume the thread of my discourse. I once was told of a man who had +been weather-bound at some port, whence he was starting for the +West Indies; he was stand<a name="Page_296" id="Page_296" ></a><span class="pagenum">[296]</span>ing on the wharf, telling a long story to +a friend, when a fair wind sprang up and he had to hurry on board. +Two years after, returning thence, the first person he met on +landing was his friend, whom he accosted with, "Oh, well, and so, +as I was telling you," etc. But I cannot do that, for my mind has +dwelt on new objects of interest since I began this letter, and my +visit to Heaton has swept sand and iron and engines all back into +the great warehouse at Manchester for a time, whence I may draw +them at some future day for your edification.</p> + +<p>Lady W—— possesses, to a great degree, beauty, that "tangible +good" which you admire so much; she has a bright, serene +countenance, and very sweet and noble eyes and forehead. Her manner +is peculiarly winning and simple, and to me it was cordially kind, +and even affectionate.</p> + +<p>During the two days which were all we could spare for Heaton, I +walked and rode and sang and talked, and was so well amused and +pleased that I hope, after our week's work is over here, we may +return there for a short-time. I must tell you of a curious little +bit of <i>ancientry</i> which I saw at Heaton, which greatly delighted +me—a "rush-bearing." At a certain period of the year, generally +the beginning of autumn, it was formerly the wont in some parts of +Lancashire to go round with sundry rustic mummeries to all the +churches and strew them with rushes. The religious intention of the +custom has passed away, but a pretty rural procession, which I +witnessed, still keeps up the memory of it hereabouts. I was +sitting at my window, looking out over the lawn, which slopes +charmingly on every side down to the house, when the still summer +air was suddenly filled with the sound of distant shouts and music, +and presently the quaint pageant drew in sight. First came an +immense wagon piled with rushes in a stack-like form, on the top of +which sat two men holding two huge nosegays. This was drawn by a +team of Lord W——'s finest farm-horses, all covered with scarlet +cloths, and decked with ribbons and bells and flowers. After this +came twelve country lads and lasses, dancing the real old +morris-dance, with their handkerchiefs flying, and in all the +rustic elegance of apparel which they could command for the +occasion. After them followed a very good village band, and then a +species of flowery canopy, under which walked a man and woman +covered with finery, who, Lord W—— told me, represented Adam and +Eve. The procession closed with a <i>fool</i> fantastically dressed out, +and carrying the classical bladder at the end of his stick. They +drew up before the house and danced their morris-dance for us. The +scraps <a name="Page_297" id="Page_297" ></a><span class="pagenum">[297]</span>of old poetry which came into my head, the contrast between +this pretty picture of a bygone time and the modern but by no means +unpicturesque group assembled under the portico, filled my mind +with the pleasantest ideas, and I was quite sorry when the rural +pageant wound up the woody heights again, and the last shout and +peal of music came back across the sunny lawn. I am very glad I saw +it. I have visited, too, Hopwood Hall, an enchanting old house in +the neighborhood of Heaton, some parts of which are as old as the +reign of Edward the First. The gloomy but comfortable oak rooms, +the beautiful and curious carving of which might afford one days of +entertaining study, the low, latticed windows, and intricate, +winding, up-and-down passages, contrasted and combined with all the +elegant adornments of modern luxury, and the pretty country in +which the house is situated, all delighted me. I must leave off +writing to you now; I have to dress, and dine at three, which I am +sorry for. Thank you for Mrs. Hemans's beautiful lines, which made +me cry very heartily. I have not been altogether well for the last +few days, and am feeling tired and out of spirits; if I can get a +few days' quiet enjoyment of the country at Heaton, I shall feel +fitter for my winter work than I do now.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Manchester</span>, September 20, 1830.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I did not answer your letter which I received at Heaton, because +the latter part of my stay there was much engrossed by walking, +riding, playing battledore and shuttlecock, singing, and being +exceedingly busy all day long about nothing. I have just left it +for this place, where we stop to-night on our way to Stafford; +Heaton was looking lovely in all the beauty of its autumnal +foliage, lighted by bright autumnal skies, and I am rather glad I +did not answer you before, as it is a consolatory occupation to do +so now.</p> + +<p>I am going with my mother to stay a day at Stafford with my +godmother, an old and attached friend of hers, after which we +proceed into Buckinghamshire to join my aunt Dall and Henry and my +sister, who are staying there; and we shall all return to London +together for the opening of the theater, which I think will take +place on the first of next month. I could have wished to be going +immediately to my work; I should have preferred screwing my courage +to my professional tasks at once, instead of loitering by way of +pleasure on the road. Besides that, in my visit to Buckinghamshire +I come in contact with persons whose society is not very agreeable +to me. My <a name="Page_298" id="Page_298" ></a><span class="pagenum">[298]</span>mother, however, made a great sacrifice in giving up her +fishing, which she was enjoying very much, to come and chaperon me +at Heaton, where there is no fishing so good as at Aston Clinton, +so that I am bound to submit cheerfully to her wishes in the +present instance.</p> + +<p>You probably have by this time heard and read accounts of the +opening of the railroad, and the fearful accident which occurred at +it, for the papers are full of nothing else. The accident you +mention <i>did</i> occur, but though the unfortunate man who was killed +bore Mr. Stephenson's name, he was not related to him. I will tell +you something of the events on the 15th, as, though you may be +acquainted with the circumstances of poor Mr. Huskisson's death, +none but an eyewitness of the whole scene can form a conception of +it. I told you that we had had places given to us, and it was the +main purpose of our returning from Birmingham to Manchester to be +present at what promised to be one of the most striking events in +the scientific annals of our country. We started on Wednesday last, +to the number of about eight hundred people, in carriages +constructed as I before described to you. The most intense +curiosity and excitement prevailed, and, though the weather was +uncertain, enormous masses of densely packed people lined the road, +shouting and waving hats and handkerchiefs as we flew by them. What +with the sight and sound of these cheering multitudes and the +tremendous velocity with which we were borne past them, my spirits +rose to the true champagne height, and I never enjoyed anything so +much as the first hour of our progress. I had been unluckily +separated from my mother in the first distribution of places, but +by an exchange of seats which she was enabled to make she rejoined +me when I was at the height of my ecstasy, which was considerably +damped by finding that she was frightened to death, and intent upon +nothing but devising means of escaping from a situation which +appeared to her to threaten with instant annihilation herself and +all her traveling companions. While I was chewing the cud of this +disappointment, which was rather bitter, as I had expected her to +be as delighted as myself with our excursion, a man flew by us, +calling out through a speaking-trumpet to stop the engine, for that +somebody in the directors' carriage had sustained an injury. We +were all stopped accordingly, and presently a hundred voices were +heard exclaiming that Mr. Huskisson was killed; the confusion that +ensued is indescribable: the calling out from carriage to carriage +to ascertain the truth, the contrary reports which were sent back +<a name="Page_299" id="Page_299" ></a><span class="pagenum">[299]</span>to us, the hundred questions eagerly uttered at once, and the +repeated and urgent demands for surgical assistance, created a +sudden turmoil that was quite sickening. At last we distinctly +ascertained that the unfortunate man's thigh was broken. From Lady +W——, who was in the duke's carriage, and within three yards of +the spot where the accident happened, I had the following details, +the horror of witnessing which we were spared through our situation +behind the great carriage. The engine had stopped to take in a +supply of water, and several of the gentlemen in the directors' +carriage had jumped out to look about them. Lord W——, Count +Batthyany, Count Matuscenitz, and Mr. Huskisson among the rest were +standing talking in the middle of the road, when an engine on the +other line, which was parading up and down merely to show its +speed, was seen coming down upon them like lightning. The most +active of those in peril sprang back into their seats: Lord W—— +saved his life only by rushing behind the duke's carriage, and +Count Matuscenitz had but just leaped into it, with the engine all +but touching his heels as he did so; while poor Mr. Huskisson, less +active from the effects of age and ill health, bewildered, too, by +the frantic cries of "Stop the engine! Clear the track!" that +resounded on all sides, completely lost his head, looked helplessly +to the right and left, and was instantaneously prostrated by the +fatal machine, which dashed down like a thunderbolt upon him, and +passed over his leg, smashing and mangling it in the most horrible +way. (Lady W—— said she distinctly heard the crushing of the +bone.) So terrible was the effect of the appalling accident that, +except that ghastly "crushing" and poor Mrs. Huskisson's piercing +shriek, not a sound was heard or a word uttered among the immediate +spectators of the catastrophe. Lord W—— was the first to raise +the poor sufferer, and calling to aid his surgical skill, which is +considerable, he tied up the severed artery, and for a time, at +least, prevented death by loss of blood. Mr. Huskisson was then +placed in a carriage with his wife and Lord W——, and the engine, +having been detached from the director's carriage, conveyed them to +Manchester. So great was the shock produced upon the whole party by +this event, that the Duke of Wellington declared his intention not +to proceed, but to return immediately to Liverpool. However, upon +its being represented to him that the whole population of +Manchester had turned out to witness the procession, and that a +disappointment might give rise to riots and disturbances, he +consented to go on, and gloomily enough the rest of the jour<a name="Page_300" id="Page_300" ></a><span class="pagenum">[300]</span>ney was +accomplished. We had intended returning to Liverpool by the +railroad, but Lady W——, who seized upon me in the midst of the +crowd, persuaded us to accompany her home, which we gladly did. +Lord W—— did not return till past ten o'clock, at which hour he +brought the intelligence of Mr. Huskisson's death. I need not tell +you of the sort of whispering awe which this event threw over our +whole circle, and yet, great as was the horror excited by it, I +could not help feeling how evanescent the effect of it was after +all. The shuddering terror of seeing our fellow-creature thus +struck down by our side, and the breathless thankfulness for our +own preservation, rendered the first evening of our party at Heaton +almost solemn; but the next day the occurrence became a subject of +earnest, it is true, but free discussion; and after that, was +alluded to with almost as little apparent feeling as if it had not +passed under our eyes, and within the space of a few hours.</p> + +<p>I have heard nothing of my brother; my mother distresses me by +talking of him, ignorant as she is of what would give her so much +more anxiety about him. I feel, while I listen to her, almost +guilty of deceit; and yet I am sure we were right in doing for her +what she cannot do for herself, keeping her mind as long as +possible in comparative tranquillity about him.</p> + +<p>Our Sunday at Heaton terminated with much solemn propriety by Lord +W—— reading aloud the evening prayers to the whole family, +visitors, and servants assembled; a ceremony which, combined and +contrasted with so much of the pomps and vanities of the world, +gave me a pleasant feeling toward these people, who live in the +midst of them without forgetting better things. I mean to make +studying German and drawing (and endeavoring to abate my +self-esteem) my principal occupations this winter. I have met at +Heaton Lord Francis Leveson Gower, the translator of "Faust." I +like him very much; he is a young man of a great deal of talent, +with a charming, gentle manner, and a very handsome, sweet face. +Good-by, dear H——. Write to me soon, and direct to No. 79 Great +Russell Street, Bloomsbury. I should like to find a letter from you +there, waiting for me.</p></div> + +<p>Our arrangement for driving in to the theater from Heaton compelled me +once or twice to sit down to dinner in my theatrical costume, a device +for saving time in dressing at the theater which might have taxed my +self-possession unpleasantly; but the persons I was surrounded by were +all singularly kind and amiable to me, and my appearing among them in +these pic<a name="Page_301" id="Page_301" ></a><span class="pagenum">[301]</span>turesque fancy dresses was rather a source of amusement to us +all. Many years after, a lady who was not staying in the house, but was +invited from the neighborhood to dine at Heaton one evening, told me how +amazed she had been on the sudden wide opening of the drawing-room doors +to see me enter, in full mediæval costume of black satin and velvet, cut +Titian fashion, and with a long, sweeping train, for which apparition +she had not been previously prepared. Of Lord W—— I have already +spoken, and have only to add that, in spite of his character of a mere +dissipated man of fashion, he had an unusual taste for and knowledge of +music, and had composed some that is not destitute of merit; he played +well on the organ, and delighted in that noble instrument, a fine +specimen of which adorned one of the drawing-rooms at Heaton. Moreover, +he possessed an accomplishment of a very different order, a remarkable +proficiency in anatomy, which he had studied very thoroughly. He had +made himself enough of a practical surgeon to be able, on the occasion +of the fatal accident which befell Mr. Huskisson on the day of the +opening of the railroad, to save the unfortunate gentleman from bleeding +to death on the spot, by tying up the femoral artery, which had been +severed. His fine riding in the hunting-field and on the race-course was +a less peculiar talent among his special associates. Lady W—— was +strikingly handsome in person, and extremely attractive in her manners. +She was tall and graceful, the upper part of her face, eyes, brow, and +forehead were radiant and sweet, and, though the rest of her features +were not regularly beautiful, her countenance was noble and her smile +had a peculiar charm of expression at once winning and mischievous. My +father said she was very like her fascinating mother, the celebrated +Miss Farren. She was extremely kind to me, petting me almost like a +spoiled child, dressing me in her own exquisite riding-habit and +mounting me on her own favorite horse, which was all very delightful to +me. My father and mother probably thought the acquaintance of these +distinguished members of the highest English society advantageous to me. +I have no doubt they felt both pride and pleasure in the notice bestowed +upon me by persons so much my superiors in rank, and had a natural +sympathy in my enjoyment of all the gay grandeur and kindly indulgence +by which I was surrounded at Heaton. I now take the freedom to doubt how +far they were judicious in allowing me to be so taken out of my own +proper social sphere. It encouraged my taste for the luxurious +refinement and elegant magnificence of a mode of life never likely to <a name="Page_302" id="Page_302" ></a><span class="pagenum">[302]</span>be +mine, and undoubtedly increased my distaste for the coarse and common +details of my professional duties behind the scenes, and the sham +splendors of the stage. The guests at Heaton of whom I have a distinct +remembrance were Mr. and Lady Harriet Baring, afterward Lord and Lady +Ashburton. I knew them both in after-life, and liked them very much; Mr. +Baring was highly cultivated and extremely amiable; his wife was much +cleverer than he, and in many respects a remarkable woman. The beautiful +sisters, Anne and Isabella Forrester, with their brother Cecil, were at +Heaton at this time. They were celebrated beauties: the elder, afterward +Countess of Chesterfield, was a brunette; the younger, who married +Colonel Anson, the most renowned lady-killer of his day, was a blonde; +and they were both of them exquisitely pretty, and used to remind me of +the French quatrain—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Vous êtes belle, et votre sœur est belle;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Entre vous deux, tout choix serait bien doux.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">L'Amour êtait blond, comme vous,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mais il aimait une brune, comme elle."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>They had beautiful figures as well as faces, and dressed peculiarly and +so as to display them to the greatest advantage. Long and very full +skirts gathered or plaited all round a pointed waist were then the +fashion; these lovely ladies, with a righteous scorn of all +disfigurement of their beauty, wore extremely short skirts, which showed +their thorough-bred feet and ankles, and were perfectly plain round +their waists and over their hips, with bodies so low on the shoulders +and bosom that there was certainly as little as possible of their +beautiful persons concealed. I remember wishing it were consistent with +her comfort and the general decorum of modern manners that Isabella +Forrester's gown could only slip entirely off her exquisite bust. I +suppose I felt as poor Gibson, the sculptor, who, looking at his friend +and pupil's (Miss Hosmer's) statue of Beatrice Cenci, the back of which +was copied from that of Lady A—— T——, exclaimed in his slow, +measured, deliberate manner, "And to think that the cursed prejudices of +society prevent my seeing that beautiful back!" Count and Countess +Batthyany (she the former widow of the celebrated Austrian general, +Bubna, a most distinguished and charming woman) were visitors at Heaton +at this time, as was also Henry Greville, with whom I then first became +acquainted, and who from that time until his death was my kind and +constant friend. He was for several years attached to the embassy in +Paris, and after<a name="Page_303" id="Page_303" ></a><span class="pagenum">[303]</span>ward had some small nominal post in the household of the +Duchess of Cambridge, and was Gentleman Gold-Stick in waiting at court. +He was not in any way intellectually remarkable; he had a passion for +music, and was one of the best society singers of his day, being (that, +to me, incomprehensible thing) a <i>mélomane</i> for one kind of music only. +Passionately fond of Italian operatic music, he did not understand, and +therefore cordially detested, German music. He had a passion for the +stage; but though he delighted in acting he did not particularly excel +in it. He had a taste for everything elegant and refined, and his small +house in May-Fair was a perfect casket full of gems. He was a natural +exquisite, and perfectly simple and unaffected, a great authority in all +matters of fashion both in Paris and in London, and a universal +favorite, especially with the women, in the highest society of both +capitals. His social position, friendly intimacy with several of the +most celebrated musical and dramatic artists of his day, passion for +political and private gossip, easy and pleasant style of letter-writing, +and general rather supercilious fastidiousness, used sometimes to remind +me of Horace Walpole. He had a singularly kind heart and amiable nature, +for a life of mere frivolous pleasure had not impaired the one or the +other. His serviceableness to his friends was unwearied, and his +generous liberality toward all whom he could help either with his +interest, his trouble, or his purse was unfailing.</p> + +<p>The whole gay party assembled at Heaton, my mother and myself included, +went to Liverpool for the opening of the railroad. The throng of +strangers gathered there for the same purpose made it almost impossible +to obtain a night's lodging for love or money; and glad and thankful +were we to put up with and be put up in a tiny garret by our old friend, +Mr. Radley, of the Adelphi, which many would have given twice what we +paid to obtain. The day opened gloriously, and never was seen an +innumerable concourse of sight-seers in better humor than the surging, +swaying crowd that lined the railroad with living faces. How dreadfully +that brilliant opening was overcast I have described in the letter given +above. After this disastrous event the day became overcast, and as we +neared Manchester the sky grew cloudy and dark, and it began to rain. +The vast concourse of people who had assembled to witness the triumphant +arrival of the successful travelers was of the lowest order of mechanics +and artisans, among whom great distress and a dangerous spirit of +discontent with the Government at that time prevailed. Groans and hisses +greeted the carriage, <a name="Page_304" id="Page_304" ></a><span class="pagenum">[304]</span>full of influential personages, in which the Duke +of Wellington sat. High above the grim and grimy crowd of scowling faces +a loom had been erected, at which sat a tattered, starved-looking +weaver, evidently set there as a <i>representative man</i>, to protest +against this triumph of machinery, and the gain and glory which the +wealthy Liverpool and Manchester men were likely to derive from it. The +contrast between our departure from Liverpool and our arrival at +Manchester was one of the most striking things I ever witnessed. The +news of Mr. Huskisson's fatal accident spread immediately, and his +death, which did not occur till the evening, was anticipated by rumor. A +terrible cloud covered this great national achievement, and its success, +which in every respect was complete, was atoned for to the Nemesis of +good fortune by the sacrifice of the first financial statesman of the +country.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, Friday, October 1, 1830.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I have risen very early, for what with excitement, and the +wakefulness always attendant with me upon a new bed, I have slept +but little, and I snatch this first hour of the day, the only one I +may be able to command, to tell you that I have heard from my +brother, and that he is safe and well, for which, thank God! +Further I know nothing. He talks vaguely of being with us toward +the end of the winter, but in the meantime, unless he finds some +means of conveying some tidings of his welfare to me, I must remain +in utter ignorance of his circumstances and situation. Your letter, +which was to welcome me to my new home, arrived there two days +before I did, and was forwarded to me into Buckinghamshire. A few +days there—taking what interest I could in the sporting and +fishing, the country quiet of the place, and above all the +privilege of taking the sacrament, which, had I remained at Heaton, +I should have had no opportunity of doing—gave me a breathing-time +and a sense of mental repose before entering again upon that busy +life whose demands are already besieging me in the inexorable form +of half a dozen new stage dresses to be devised, ordered, and +executed in the shortest imaginable time.</p> + +<p class="dateline"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305" ></a><span class="pagenum">[305]</span>October 3d.</p> + +<p>You see how truly I prophesied at the beginning of this letter, +when I said that the hour before breakfast was perhaps the only one +I should be able to command that day. I might have said that week, +for this is the first instant I have been able to call my own since +then. I rehearsed Juliet yesterday, and shall do so again to-morrow +morning; the theater opens with it to-morrow night. I have a new +nurse, and I am rehearsing for her, poor woman! She is dreadfully +alarmed at taking Mrs. Davenport's place, who certainly was a very +great favorite. I am half crazy with the number of new dresses to +be got; for though, thanks to the kindness and activity of my +mother, none of the trouble of devising them ever falls on me, yet +the bare catalogue of silks and satins and velvets, hats and +feathers and ruffs, fills me with amazement and trepidation. I +fancy I shall go through all the old parts, and then come out in a +new tragedy. I shall be most horribly frightened, but I hope I +shall do well, for the sake of the poor author, who is a young man +of great abilities, and to whom I wish every success. The subject +of his play is taken from a Spanish one, called "The Jew of +Aragon," and the whole piece is of a new and unhackneyed order. My +father and I play a Jewish father and daughter; this and the +novelty of the story itself will perhaps be favorable to the play; +I hope so with all my heart.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Henry Siddons has taken a house in London for six months; I +have not seen her yet, but am most anxious to do so. Anxiety and +annoyance, I fear, have just caused her a severe indisposition, but +she is a little better now. Mrs. Siddons is much better. She is +staying at Leamington at present.</p> + +<p>Dearest H——, returning from Buckinghamshire the other day, I +passed Cassiobury, the grove, the little lane leading down to Heath +Farm, and Miss M——'s cottage, and the first days of our +acquaintance came back to my memory. I suppose I should have liked +and loved you wherever I had met you, but you come in for a share +of my love and liking of Cassiobury, and the spring, the beautiful +season in which we met first. I send you the long-promised lock of +my hair; you will be surprised at the lightness of the shade—at +least, I was. It was cut from my forehead, and I think it is a nice +bit; tell me that you get it safe.</p> + +<p>Henry is staying in Buckinghamshire in all the ecstasy of a young +cockney's first sporting days. When he was quite a child and was +asked what profession he intended to embrace, he replied that he +would be "<i>a gentleman and wear leather <a name="Page_306" id="Page_306" ></a><span class="pagenum">[306]</span>breeches</i>," and I think +it is the very destiny he is fitted to fill. He is the perfect +picture of happiness when in his shooting-jacket and gaiters, with +his gun on his shoulder and a bright day before him; and although +we were obliged to return to town, my mother was unwilling to +curtail his pleasure, and left him to murder pheasants and hares, +and amuse himself in a manly fashion.</p> + +<p>I did not like the place at which they were staying as much as they +did, for though the country was very pretty, I had during the +summer tour seen so much that surpassed it that I saw it at a +disadvantage. Then, I have no fancy for gypsying, and the greatest +taste for all the formal proprieties of life, and what I should +call "silver fork existence" in general; and the inconveniences of +a small country inn, without really affecting my comfort, disturb +my decided preference for luxury. The principal diversion my +ingenious mind discovered to while away my time with was a <i>fiddle</i> +(an elderly one), which I routed out of a lumber closet, and from +which, after due invocations to St. Cecilia, I drew such diabolical +sounds as I flatter myself were never excelled by Tartini or his +master, the devil himself. I must now close this, for it is +tea-time.</p></div> + +<p>The play of "The Jew of Aragon," the first dramatic composition of a +young gentleman of the name of Wade, of whose talent my father had a +very high opinion, which he trusted the success of his piece would +confirm, I am sorry to say failed entirely. It was the first time and +the last that I had the distress of assisting in damning a piece, and +what with my usual intense nervousness in acting a new part, my anxiety +for the interests of both the author and the theatre, and the sort of +indignant terror with which, instead of the applause I was accustomed +to, I heard the hisses which testified the distaste and disapprobation +of the public and the failure of the play, I was perfectly miserable +when the curtain fell, and the poor young author, as pale as a ghost, +came forward to meet my father at the side scene, and bravely holding +out his hand to him said, "Never mind for me, Mr. Kemble; I'll do better +another time." And so indeed he did; for he wrote a charming play on the +old pathetic story of "Griselda," in which that graceful actress Miss +Jarman played his heroine, and my father the hero, and which had an +entire and well-deserved success. I am obliged to confess that I retain +no recollection whatever of the ill-fated play of "The Jew of Aragon," +or my own part in it, save the last <i>scene</i> alone; this, I recollect, +was a magnificent Jewish place of <a name="Page_307" id="Page_307" ></a><span class="pagenum">[307]</span>worship, in which my father, who was +the high priest, appeared in vestments such as I believe the Jewish +priests still wear in their solemn ceremonies, and which were so closely +copied from the description of Aaron's sacred pontifical robes that I +felt a sense of impropriety in such a representation (purely historical, +as it was probably considered, and in no way differing from the costume +accepted on the French stage in Racine's Jewish plays). And I think it +extremely likely that the failure of the piece, which had been imminent +all through, found its climax in the unfavorable impression made upon +the audience by this very scene, in spite of my father's noble and +picturesque appearance.</p> + +<p>I never heard hisses on the stage before or since; and though I was very +well aware that on this occasion they were addressed neither to me nor +to my performance, I think if they had been the whistling of bullets +(which I have also heard nearer than was pleasant) I could not have felt +more frightened and furious.</p> + +<p>Young Wade's self-control and composure during the catastrophe of this +play reminds me, by contrast, of a most ludicrous story my father used +to tell of some unfortunate authoress, who, in an evil hour for herself +and some friendly provincial manager, persuaded him to bring out an +original drama of hers.</p> + +<p>The audience (not a very discriminating or numerous one) were +sufficiently appreciative to object extremely to the play, and large +enough to make their objections noisily apparent.</p> + +<p>The manager, in his own distress not unmindful of his poor friend, the +authoress, sought her out to console her, and found her seated at the +side scene with a glass of stiff brandy and water that some +commiserating friend had administered to her for her support, rocking +herself piteously to and fro, and, with the tears streaming down her +cheeks, uttering between sobs and sips, in utter self-abasement, her +<i>peccavi</i> in the form of oaths and imprecations of the finest +Billingsgate vernacular (all, however, addressed to herself), that would +have made a dragoon shake in his shoes. The original form of which <i>mea +culpa</i> seized the worthy manager with such an irresistibly ludicrous +effect that he left the poor, guilty authoress without being able to +address a syllable to her, lest he should explode in peals of laughter +instead of decent words of condolence.</p> + +<p>To accompany an author or authoress (I should think especially the +latter) on the first night of the representation of their piece is by no +means a pleasant act of duty or friendship. I remember my mother, whose +own nervous temperament cer<a name="Page_308" id="Page_308" ></a><span class="pagenum">[308]</span>tainly was extremely ill adapted for such an +undertaking, describing the intolerable distress she had experienced on +the occasion of the first representation of a piece called, I think, +"Father and Son," taken from a collection of interesting stories +entitled "The Canterbury Tales," and adapted to the stage by one of the +Misses Lee, the sister authoresses of the Tales. The piece was very +fairly successful, but my mother said that though, according to her very +considerable experience, the actors were by no means more imperfect in +their parts than usual on a first night, her nervous anxiety was kept +almost at fever height by poor Miss Lee's incessant running commentary +of "Ah! very pretty, no doubt—very fine, I dare say—<i>only I never +wrote a word of it</i>!"</p> + +<p>Lord Byron took the same story for the subject of his powerful play of +"Werner," in which Mr. Macready acted so finely, and with such great +success.</p> + +<p>I cannot imagine what possessed me in an unguarded hour to consent, as I +did, to go with my friends, Messrs. Tom Taylor and Charles Reade, to see +the first representation of a play of theirs called, I think, "The +King's Wager," in which Charles the Second, Nell Gwynn, and the Plague +were prominent characters. Accidental circumstances prevented one of the +gentlemen from coming with me, and I have often since wondered at my +temerity in having placed myself in such a trying situation.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, October 24, 1830.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dear H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I have been too busy to answer your last sooner, but this hour +before bedtime, the first quiet one for some time, shall be yours. +I have heard nothing more of my brother, and am ignorant where he +is or how engaged at present. You judged rightly with respect to +the impossibility of longer keeping my mother in ignorance of his +absence from England. The result was pretty much what I had +apprehended; but her feelings have now become somewhat calmer on +the subject. We are careful, however, as much as possible, to avoid +all mention of or reference to my brother in her presence, for she +is in a very cruel state of anxiety about him.</p> + +<p>I am endeavoring as much as possible to follow my studies with some +regularity. I have forsworn paying and receiving morning visits; so +that, when no rehearsal interferes, I get my practicing, my +singing, and my reading in tolerable peace.</p> + +<p>I have had a key of Russell Square offered me, which privilege I +shall most thankfully accept. Walking regularly is, of <a name="Page_309" id="Page_309" ></a><span class="pagenum">[309]</span>course, +essential, and though I rather dread the idea of solitarily turning +round and round that dreary emblem of eternity, a circular +gravel-walk, over-<i>gloomed</i> with soot-blackened privet bushes, I am +sure I ought, and I mean to do it every day for an hour. We do not +dine till six, when I do not act, and when I do, I do not go to the +theater till that hour; so that from ten in the morning, when +breakfast is over, I get a tolerably long day. I have obtained my +father's leave to learn drawing and German, and as soon as our +house is a little more comfortably settled, I shall begin both. I +do not know whether I have the least talent for drawing, but I have +so strong a desire to possess that accomplishment that I think, by +the help of a good master and patience and hard work, I must +succeed to some decent degree. I wish to provide myself with every +possible resource against the engrossing excitement of my +profession while I remain in it, and to fill its place whenever I +leave it, or it leaves me; all my occupations are with that view +and to that end.</p> + +<p>My father has promised me to speak to Mr. Murray about publishing +my play and my verses. I am anxious for this for several reasons, +some of which I believe I mentioned to you; and to these I have +since added a great wish to have some good prints I possess framed, +for my little room, and I should not scruple to apply part of the +money so earned to that purpose. You asked me which is my room. You +remember the bathroom, next to what was my uncle John's bedroom, on +the third floor; the room above that my mother has fitted up +beautifully for me, and I inhabit it all day long with great +complacency and a sort of comfortable, Alexander-Selkirk feeling. +And this suggests a question which has seldom been out of my mind, +and which I wish to recall to yours. When do you intend to come and +see me? I can offer you a nest on the <i>fourth story</i>, which is +excellent for your health, as free a circulation of air as a London +lodging can well afford, and as fine a combination of chimney-pots +as even your love of the picturesque could desire.</p> + +<p>Dear H——, will you not come and pass a month with us? Now stop a +bit, and I will point out to you one by one the inducements to and +advantages of such a step. In the first place, my father and mother +both request and wish it, and you know how truly happy it would +make me. Your own people can well spare you for a month, and I am +sure will be the more inclined to do so from the consideration that +change of air and scene will be good for you, and that, though your +stock of orig<a name="Page_310" id="Page_310" ></a><span class="pagenum">[310]</span>inal ideas is certainly extraordinary, yet you cannot +be expected to go on for ever, like a spider, existing mentally in +the midst of your own weavings, without every now and then +recruiting your strength and taking in a new supply of material.</p> + +<p>You shall come to London, that huge mass of matter for thought and +observation, and to me, in whom you find so interesting an epitome +of all the moods, tenses, and conjugations of every regular and +irregular form of "to do, to be, and to suffer;" and when you have +been sufficiently <i>smoked, fogged</i>, astonished, and edified, you +shall return home with one infallible result of your stay with +us—increased value for a peaceful life, quiet companions, a wide +sea-view, and potatoes roasted in their skins; not but what you +shall have the last-mentioned luxury here, if you will but come.</p> + +<p>Now, dear H——, I wish this very much, but promise to bear your +answer reasonably well; I depend upon your indulging me if you can, +and shall try not to behave ill if you don't; so do me justice, and +do not give way to your shyness and habits of retirement. I want +you to come here before the 20th of November, and then I will let +you go in time to be at home for Christmas. So now my cause is in +your hands—<i>avisez-vous</i>.</p> + +<p>I wonder whether you have heard that my father has been thrashing +the editor of the <i>Age</i> newspaper, who, it seems, took offence at +my father's not appearing on sufficiently familiar terms with him +somewhere or other when they met, in revenge for which "coldness" +(as he styles it) he has not ceased for the last six months abusing +us, every week, in his paper. From what I hear I was the especial +mark of his malice; of course I need not tell you that, knowing the +character of this publication, I should never have looked at it, +and the circumstance of my name appearing in its columns would +hardly have been an inducement to me to do so. I knew nothing, +therefore, of my own injuries, but heard general expressions of +indignation against Mr. Westmacott, and saw that my father was +extremely exasperated upon the subject. The other night they were +all going to the play, and pressed me very much to go too, but I +had something I wished to write, and remained at home. On their +return my father appeared to me much excited, and I was informed +that having unluckily come across Mr. Westmacott, his wrath had got +the better of his self-command, and he had bestowed a severe +beating upon that individual. I could not help looking very grave +at this; for though I should have been very well satisfied if it +could have <i>rained</i> a good thrashing upon Mr. Westmacott from the +sky, yet as I do not <a name="Page_311" id="Page_311" ></a><span class="pagenum">[311]</span>approve of returning injuries by injuries, I +could not rejoice that my father had done so. I suppose he saw that +I had no great satisfaction in the event, for he said, "The law +affords no redress against such attacks as this paper makes on +people, and I thought it time to take justice in my own hands when +my daughter is insulted." He then repeated some of the language +made use of with reference to me in the <i>Age</i>, and I could not help +blushing with indignation to my fingers' ends.</p> + +<p>Perhaps, under the circumstances, it is not surprising that my +father has done what he has, but I think I should have admired him +more if he had not. Mr. Westmacott means to bring an action against +him, and I am afraid he will have to pay dearly for his momentary +indulgence of temper.</p> + +<p>I must have done writing, though I had a good deal more to say. God +bless you, dear. If you answer this letter directly, I will write +you a better next time.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Ever yours,</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p></div> + +<p>The majority of parents—mothers, I believe I ought to say—err in one +or other excess with regard to their children. Love either blinds them +absolutely to their defects, or makes them so terribly alive to them as +to exaggerate every imperfection. It is hard to say which of the errors +is most injurious in its effects. I suppose according as the temperament +is desponding and diffident, or sanguine and self-sufficient, the one +system or the other is likely to do most harm.</p> + +<p>My mother's intensely nervous organization, acute perceptions, and +exacting taste made her in everything most keenly alive to our faults +and deficiencies. The unsparing severity of the sole reply or comment +she ever vouchsafed to our stupidity, want of sense, or want of +observation—"I hate a fool"—has remained almost like a cut with a lash +across my memory. Her wincing sensitiveness of ear made it all but +impossible for me to practice either the piano or singing within hearing +of her exclamations of impatient anguish at my false chords and flat +intonations; and I suppose nothing but my sister's <i>unquenchable</i> +musical genius would have sustained her naturally timid, sensitive +disposition under such discipline.</p> + +<p>Two of our family, my eldest brother and myself, were endowed with such +robust self-esteem and elastic conceit as not only defied repression, +but, unfortunately for us, could never be effectually snubbed; with my +sister and my younger brother the case was entirely different, and +encouragement was rather <a name="Page_312" id="Page_312" ></a><span class="pagenum">[312]</span>what they required. How well it is for the best +and wisest, as well as the least good and least wise, of trainers of +youth, that God is above all. I do not myself understand the love that +blinds one to the defects of those dear to one; their faults are part of +themselves, without which they could not be themselves, no more to be +denied or dissembled, it seems to me, than the color of their eyes or +hair. I do not feel the scruple which I observe in others, in alluding +to the failings of those they love. The mingled good and evil qualities +in my friends make up their individual identity, and neither from +myself, nor from them, nor from others does it ever occur to me that +half that identity should or could be concealed. I could as soon imagine +them without their arms or their legs as without their peculiar moral +characteristics, and could no more think of them without their faults +than without their virtues.</p> + +<p>Many were the pleasant hours, in spite of my misgivings, that I passed +with a book in my hand, mechanically pacing the gravel walks of Russell +Square. Certain readings of Shakespeare's plays, "Othello" and "Macbeth" +especially, in lonely absorption of spirit, I associate for ever with +that place. I remember, too, reading at my father's request, during +those peripatetic exercises, two plays written by Sheil for his amiable +countrywoman, Miss O'Neill, in which she won deserved laurels: "Evadne, +or the Statue," and "The Apostate." I never had the pleasure of seeing +Miss O'Neill act; but the impression left on my mind by those plays was +that her abilities must have been very great to have given them the +effect and success they had. As for me, as usual, of course my reply to +my father was a disconsolate "I am sure <i>I</i> can do nothing with them."</p> + +<p>My friend H—— S——, in coming to us in Russell Street, came to a +house that had been almost a home to her and her brother when they were +children, in the life of my uncle and Mrs. John Kemble, by whom they +were regarded with great affection, and whom they visited and stayed +with as if they had been young relations of their own.</p> + +<p>My hope of learning German and drawing was frustrated by the engrossing +calls of my theatrical occupations. The first study was reserved for a +long-subsequent season, when I had recourse to it as a temporary +distraction in perplexity and sorrow, from which I endeavored to find +relief in some sustained intellectual effort; and I mastered it +sufficiently to translate without difficulty Schiller's "Mary Stuart" +and some of his minor poems.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313" ></a><span class="pagenum">[313]</span>As for drawing, that I have once or twice tried to accomplish, but the +circumstances of my unsettled and restless life have been unfavorable +for any steady effort to follow it up, and I have got no further yet +than a passionate desire to know how to draw. If (as I sometimes +imagine) in a future existence undeveloped capacities and persistent +yearnings for all kinds of good may find expansion and exercise, and not +only our moral but also our intellectual being put forth new powers and +achieve progress in new directions, then in some of the successive +heavens to which, perhaps, I may be allowed to climb (if to any) I shall +be a painter of pictures; a mere idea that suggests a heavenly state of +long-desired capacity, to possess which, here on earth, I would give at +once the finger of either hand least indispensable to an artist. Of the +two pursuits, a painter's or a musician's, considered not as arts but as +accomplishments merely, the former appears to me infinitely more +desirable, for a woman, than the latter far more frequently cultivated +one. The one is a sedative, the other an acute stimulant to the nervous +system. The one is a perfectly independent and always to be commanded +occupation; the other imperatively demands an instrument, utters an +audible challenge to attention, and must either command solitude or +disturb any society not inclined to become an audience. The one +cultivates habits of careful, accurate observation of nature, and +requires patient and precise labor in reproducing her models; the other +appeals powerfully to the imagination and emotions, and charms almost in +proportion as it excites its votaries. With regard to natural aptitude, +the most musical of nations—the German—shows by the impartial training +of its common schools how universal it considers a certain degree of +musical capacity.</p> + +<p>Our musical literature of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the +glees, madrigals, rounds, and catches, requiring considerable skill, and +familiarly performed formerly in the country houses and home circles of +our gentry, and the noble church music of our cathedral choirs, bear +witness to a high musical inspiration, and thorough musical training in +their composers and executants.</p> + +<p>We seem to have lost this vein of original national music; the +Lancashire weavers and spinners are still good choristers, but among the +German half of our common Teutonic race, the real feeling for and +knowledge of music continues to flourish, while with the Anglo-Saxons of +Britain and America it has dwindled and decayed.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, November 8, 1830.<a name="Page_314" id="Page_314" ></a><span class="pagenum">[314]</span></p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I received your note, for I cannot honor the contents of your last +with the name of a letter (whatever title the shape and quantity of +the paper it was written on may claim).</p> + +<p>I have made up my mind to let you make up yours, without urging you +further upon the subject; but I must reply to one thing. You say to +me, could you bring with you a strip of sea-shore, a corner of blue +sky, or half a dozen waves, you would not hesitate. Allow my to say +that whereas by the sea-side or under a bright sky your society +enhances the pleasure derived from them, I now desire it (not +having these) as delightful in itself, increasing my enjoyment in +the beauties of nature, and compensating for their absence. But I +have done; only if Mrs. K—— has held out a false hope to me, she +is ferocious and atrocious, and that is all, and so pray tell her.</p> + +<p>I had left myself so little room to tell you about this +disagreeable business of the <i>Age</i> newspaper, in my last, that I +thought what I said of it would be almost unintelligible to you. I +do not really deserve the sympathy you express for my feelings in +the matter, for partly from being totally ignorant of the nature +and extent of my injuries—having never, of course, read a line of +that scurrilous newspaper—and partly from my indifference to +everything that is said about me, I really have felt no annoyance +or distress on the subject, beyond, as I told you, one moment's +feminine indignation at a coarse expression which was repeated to +me, but which in strict truth did not and could not apply to me; +and considerable regret that my father should have touched Mr. +Westmacott even with a stick, or a "pair of tongs." That individual +intends bringing a suit for damages, which makes me very anxious to +have my play and rhymes published, if I can get anything for them, +as I think the profits derived from my "scribbles" (as good Queen. +Anne called her letters) would be better bestowed in paying for +that little ebullition of my father's temper than in decorating my +tiny sanctum. What does my poor, dear father expect, but that I +shall be bespattered if I am to live on the highway?</p> + +<p>Mr. Murray has been kind enough to say he will publish my very +original compositions, and I am preparing them for him. I am sorry +to say I have heard nothing from my brother; <i>of</i> him I have heard, +for his whereabout is known and talked of—so much so, indeed, that +my father says further concealment is at once useless and +ridiculous. I may therefore now tell you that he is at this moment +in Spain, trying to levy troops for the <a name="Page_315" id="Page_315" ></a><span class="pagenum">[315]</span>cause of the +constitutionalists. I need not tell you, dearest H——, how much I +regret this, because you will know how deeply I must disapprove of +it. I might have thought any young man Quixotic who thus mistook a +restless, turbulent spirit, eager to embrace a quarrel not his own, +for patriotism and self-devotion to a sacred cause; but in my +brother, who had professed aims and purposes so opposed to tumult +and war and bloodshed, it seems to me a subject of much more +serious regret. Heaven only knows what plans he has formed for the +future! His present situation affords anxiety enough to warrant our +not looking further in anticipation of vexation, but even if the +present be regarded with the best hope of success in his +undertaking, the natural consideration must be, as far as he is +concerned, "What follows?" It is rather a melancholy consideration +that such abilities should be wasted and misapplied. Our own +country is in a perilous state of excitement, and these troubled +times make politicians of us all. Of course the papers will have +informed you of the risings in Kent and Sussex; London itself is in +an unquiet state that suggests the heaving of a volcano before an +eruption. It is said that the Duke of Wellington must resign; I am +ignorant, but it appears to me that whenever he does it will be a +bad day's work for England. The alarm and anxiety of the +aristocracy is extreme, and exhibits itself, even as I have had +opportunity of observing in society, in the half-angry, +half-frightened tone of their comments on public events. If one did +not sympathize with their apprehensions, their mode of expressing +them would sometimes be amusing.</p> + +<p>The aspect of public affairs is injurious to the theater, and these +graver interests thin our houses while they crowd the houses of +Parliament. However, when we played "The Provoked Husband" before +the king and queen the other night, the theater was crammed from +floor to ceiling, and presented a most beautiful <i>coup d'œil</i>. I +have just come out in Mrs. Haller. It seems to have pleased the +people very much. I need not tell you how much I dislike the play; +it is the quintessence of trashy sentimentalism; but our audiences +cry and sob at it till we can hardly hear ourselves speak on the +stage, and the public in general rejoices in what the servant-maids +call "something deep." My father acts the Stranger with me, which +makes it very trying to my nerves, as I mix up all my own personal +feelings for him with my acting, and the sight of his anguish and +sense of his displeasure is really very dread<a name="Page_316" id="Page_316" ></a><span class="pagenum">[316]</span>ful to me, though it +is only all about "stuff and nonsense" after all.</p> + +<p>I must leave off writing; I am excruciated with the toothache, +which has tormented me without respite all day. I will inclose a +line to Mrs. K——, which I will beg you to convey to her.</p> + +<p>With kindest love to all your circle, believe me ever yours,</p> + +<p class="signature">F. A. K.</p> + +<p>Thank you for your delicious French comic song; you should come to +London to hear how admirably I sing it.</p></div> + +<p>Mrs. K—— was a Miss Dawson, sister of the Right Honorable George +Dawson, and the wife of an eminent member of the Irish bar. She was a +woman of great mental cultivation and unusual information upon subjects +which are generally little interesting to women. She was a passionate +partisan of Owen the philanthropist and Combe the phrenologist, and +entertained the most sanguine hopes of the regeneration of the whole +civilized world through the means of the theories of these benevolent +reformers. Except Queen Elizabeth, of glorious memory, I do not think a +woman can have existed who combined the love of things futile and +serious to the same degree as Mrs. K——. Her feminine taste for +fashionable society and the frivolities of dress, together with her +sober and solid studies of the gravest sort and her devotion to the +speculations of her friends Owen and Combe, constituted a rare union of +contrasts. She was a remarkable instance of the combination exemplified +by more than one eminent person of her sex, of a capacity for serious +study, solid acquirements, and enlightened and liberal views upon the +most important subjects, with a decided inclination for those more +trifling pursuits supposed to be the paramount interests of the female +mind. She was the dear friend of my dear friend Miss S——, and +corresponded with her upon the great subject of social progress with a +perfect enthusiasm of theoretical reform.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, November 14th</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>Thank you a thousand times for your kindness in consenting to come +to us. We are all very happy in the hope of having you, nor need +you be for a moment nervous or uncomfortable from the idea that we +shall receive or treat you otherwise than as one of ourselves. I +have left my mother and my <a name="Page_317" id="Page_317" ></a><span class="pagenum">[317]</span>aunt in the room which is to be yours, +devising and arranging matters for you. It is a very small roost, +dear H——, but it is the only spare room in our house, and +although it is three stories up, it is next to mine, and I hope +good neighborhood will atone for some deficiencies. With regard to +interfering with the routine or occupations of the family, they are +of a nature which, fortunately for your scruples, renders that +impossible. There is but one thing in your letter which rather +distressed me: you allude to the inconveniences of a woman +traveling in mail coaches in December, and I almost felt, when I +read the sentence, what my aunt Dall told me after I had requested +you to come to us now, that it was a want of consideration in me to +have invited you at so ungenial a season for traveling. I had one +reason for doing so which I hope will excuse the apparent +selfishness of the arrangement. Toward the end of the spring I +shall be leaving town, I hope to come nearer your land, and the +beginning of our spring is seldom much more mild and inviting or +propitious for traveling than the winter itself. Then, too, the +early spring is the time when our engagements are unavoidably very +numerous; to decline going into society is not in my power, and to +drag you to my balls (which I love dearly) would, I think, scarce +be a pleasure to you (whom I love more), and to go to them when I +might be with you would be to run the risk of destroying my taste +for the only form of intercourse with my fellow-creatures which is +not at present irksome to me. Think, dear H——, if ceasing to +dance I should cease to care for universal humanity—indeed, take +to hating it, and become an absolute misanthropist! What a risk!</p> + +<p>I have heard nothing more of or from John, but the newspaper +reports of the proceedings are rather more favorable than they have +been, though I fear one cannot place much reliance on them. I do +not know how the papers you see speak of the aspect of affairs in +England at this moment; the general feeling seems to be one of +relief, and that, whatever apprehensions may have been entertained +for the tranquillity of the country, the storm has blown over for +the present. Everything is quiet again in London and promises to +remain so, and there seems to be a sort of "drawing of a long +breath" sensation in the state of the public mind, though I cannot +myself help thinking not only that we have been, but that we still +are, on the eve of some great crisis.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Haller is going on very well; it is well spoken of, I am told, +and upon the whole it seems to have done me credit, <a name="Page_318" id="Page_318" ></a><span class="pagenum">[318]</span>though I am +surprised it has, for there is nothing in the part that gives me +the least satisfaction. My next character, I hear, is to be of a +very different order of frailty—Calista, in "The Fair Penitent." +However odious both play and part are, there are powerful +situations in it, and many opportunities for fine acting, but I am +afraid I am quite unequal to such a <i>turpissime</i> termagant, with +whom my aunt did such tremendous things.</p></div> + +<p>My performance of "The Fair Penitent" was entirely ineffective, and did +neither me nor the theater any service; the play itself is a feeble +adaptation of Massinger's powerful drama of "The Fatal Dowry," and, as +generally happens with such attempts to fit our old plays to our modern +stage, the fundamentally objectionable nature of the story could not be +reformed without much of the vigorous and terrible effect of the +original treatment evaporating in the refining process. Mr. Macready +revived Massinger's fine play with considerable success, but both the +matter and the manner of our dramatic ancestors is too robust for the +audiences of our day, who nevertheless will go and see "Diane de Lys," +by a French company of actors, without wincing. Of Mrs. Siddons's Mrs. +Haller, one of her admirers once told me that her majestic and imposing +person, and the commanding character of her beauty, militated against +her effect in the part. "No man, alive or dead," said he, "would have +dared to take a liberty with her; wicked she might be, but weak she +could not be, and when she told the story of her ill-conduct in the +play, nobody believed her." While another of her devotees, speaking of +"The Fair Penitent," said that it was worth sitting out the piece for +her scene with Romont alone, and to see "such a splendid animal in such +a magnificent rage."</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + + +<p>My friend left us after a visit of a few weeks, taking my sister to +Ireland with her on a visit to Ardgillan.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, December 21st.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>My aunt Dall brought me home word that you wished me to send a +letter which should meet you on your arrival at Ardgillan; and I +would have done so, but that I had previ<a name="Page_319" id="Page_319" ></a><span class="pagenum">[319]</span>ously promised myself that +I would do nothing this day till I had copied out the fourth act of +"The Star of Seville," and you know unless I am steady at my work +this week, I shall break my word a second time, which is +<i>impossible</i>, as it ought to have been at first.</p></div> + +<p>[A tragedy in five acts, called "The Star of Seville," at which I was +working, is here referred to. My father had directed my attention to the +subject by putting in my hands a sketch of the life and works of Lope de +Vega, by Lord Holland. The story of La Estrella de Seviglia appeared to +my father eminently dramatic, and he excited me to choose it for the +subject of a drama. I did so, and Messrs. Saunders and Ottley were good +enough to publish it; it had no merit whatever, either dramatic or +poetical (although I think the subject gave ample scope for both), and I +do not remember a line of it.]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>However, it is nine o'clock; I have not ceased writing except to +dine, and my act is copied; and now I can give you an hour before +bedtime. How are you? and how is dear A——? Give her several good +kisses for me; she is by this time admirable friends with all your +circle, I doubt not, and slightly, superficially acquainted with +the sea. Tell her she is a careless little puss, though, for she +forgot the plate with my effigy on it for Hercules [Miss S——'s +nephew] which she was to have given my aunt to pack up. I am quite +sorry about it; tell him, however, he shall not lose by it, for I +will send him both a plate with the Belvidera and a mug with my own +natural head on it, the next time you return home.</p> + +<p>I stood in the dining-room listening to your carriage wheels until +I believe they were only rolling in my imagination; you cannot +fancy how doleful our breakfast was. Henry was perfectly enraged at +finding that A—— was gone in earnest, and my father began to +wonder how it had ever come to pass that he had consented to let +her go. After breakfast, Dall and I walked to Mr. Cartwright's (the +dentist), who fortunately did not torture me much; for if he had, +my spirits were so exceedingly low that I am sure I should have +disgraced myself and cried like a coward. As soon as we came home I +set to work, and have never stopped copying till I began this +letter, when, having done my day's work, I thought I might tell you +how much I miss you and dear A——.</p> + +<p>My father is gone to the theater upon business to-night; my mother +is very unwell, and Dall and Henry, as well as myself, are stupid +and dreary.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320" ></a><span class="pagenum">[320]</span>My dear H——, tell me how you bore the journey and the cold, and +how dear A—— fared on the road; how you found all your people, +and how the dell and the sea are looking. Write to me very <i>soon</i> +and <i>very</i> long. You have let several stitches fall in one of the +muffetees you knit for me, and it is all running to ruin; I must +see and pick them up at the theater on Thursday night. You have +left all manner of things behind you; among others, Channing's two +essays; I will keep all your property honestly for you, and shall +soon have time to read those essays, which I very much wish to do.</p> + +<p>A large supply of Christmas fare arrived from Stafford to-day from +my godmother, and among other things, a huge nosegay for me. I was +very grateful for the flowers; they are always a pleasure, and +to-day I thought they tried to be a consolation to me.</p> + +<p>Now I must break off. Do you remember Madame de Sévigné's "Adieu; +ce n'est pas jusqu'à demain—jusqu'à samedi—jusqu' aujourd'hui en +huit; c'est adieu pour un an"? and yet I certainly have no right to +grumble, for our meeting as we have done latterly is a pleasure as +little to have been anticipated as the events which have enabled us +to do so, and for which I have so many reasons to be thankful. God +bless you, dear H——; kiss dear little A—— for me, and remember +me affectionately to all your people.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +I am yours ever truly,</p><p class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Fanny</span>. +</p> + +<p>Dall sends her best love to both, and all; and Henry bids me tell +A—— that the name of the Drury Lane pantomime is "Harlequin and +Davy Jones, or Mother Carey's Chickens." Ours is yet a secret; he +will write her all about it.</p></div> + +<p>Mr. Cartwright, the eminent dentist, was a great friend of my father's; +he was a cultivated gentleman of refined taste, and an enlightened judge +and liberal patron of the arts. If anything could have alleviated the +half-hour's suspense before one obtained admission to his beautiful +library, which was on some occasions (of, I suppose, slight importance) +his "operating-room," it would have been the choice specimens of lovely +landscape painting, by the first English masters, which adorned his +dining-room. I have sat by Sir Thomas Lawrence at the hospitable +dinner-table, where Mr. Cartwright gave his friends the most agreeable +opportunity of using the teeth which he, pre<a name="Page_321" id="Page_321" ></a><span class="pagenum">[321]</span>served for them, and heard +in his house the best classical English vocal music, capitally executed +by the first professors of that school, and brilliant amicable rivalry +of first-rate piano-forte performances by Cramer, Neukomm, Hummel, and +Moscheles, who were all personal friends of their host.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, January 3, 1831.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dear H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I promised you, in the interesting P.S. I annexed to my aunt Dall's +letter, to write to you to-day, and I sit down this evening to +fulfill my promise. My father is gone out to dinner, my mother is +asleep on the sofa, Dall reclines dozing in that blissful armchair +you wot of, and Henry, happier than either, is extended snoring +before the fire on the softest, thickest, splendidest colored rug +(a piece of my mother's workmanship) that the most poetical canine +imagination could conceive; I should think an earthly type of those +heavenly rugs which virtuous dogs, according to your creed, are +destined to enjoy.</p></div> + +<p>[My friend Miss S—— held (without having so eloquently advocated) the +theory of her and my friend Miss Cobbe, of the possible future existence +of animals; such animals at any rate as had formed literally a precious +part of the earthly existence of their owners, and in whom a certain +sense, so nearly resembling conscience, is developed, by their obedience +and attachment to the superior race, that it is difficult to consider +them unmoral creatures. Perhaps, however, if the choice were given our +four-footed friends to share our future prospects and present +responsibility, they might decline the offer, "Thankfu' they werena' +men, but dogs."]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Dear H——, the pleasant excitement of your society assisted the +natural contentedness or indifference of my disposition to throw +aside many reflections upon myself and others, the life I lead and +its various annoyances, which have been unpleasantly forced upon me +since your departure; and when I say that I do not feel happy, you +will not count it merely the blue-devilish fancy of a German brain +or an English (that is bilious) stomach.</p> + +<p>I have a feeling, not of dissatisfaction or discontent so much as +of sadness and weariness, though I struggle always and sometimes +pretty successfully to rouse myself from it.</p> + +<p>You say you wish to know what we did on Christmas Day. I'll tell +you. In the morning I went to church, after which I came home and +copied "The Star of Seville" till dinner-time. <a name="Page_322" id="Page_322" ></a><span class="pagenum">[322]</span>After dinner my +mother, who had proposed spending the evening at our worthy +pastor's, Mr. Sterky's, finding my father disinclined for that +exertion, remained at home and went to sleep; my father likewise, +Dall likewise, Henry likewise; and I copied on at my play till +bedtime: <i>voilà</i>. On Monday, contrary to my expectation, I had to +play Euphrasia before the pantomime. You know we were to spend +Christmas Eve at my aunt Siddons's; we had a delightful evening and +I was very happy. My aunt came down from the drawing-room (for we +danced in the dining-room on the ground floor) and sat among us, +and you cannot think how nice and pretty it was to see her +surrounded by her clan, more than three dozen strong; some of them +so handsome, and many with a striking likeness to herself, either +in feature or expression. Mrs. Harry and Cecy danced with us, and +we enjoyed ourselves very much; I wished for dear A—— +exceedingly. Wednesday we dined at Mrs. Mayow's.</p></div> + +<p>[My mother's dear friend, Mrs. Mayow, was the wife of a gentleman in a +high position in one of our Government offices. She was a West Indian +creole, and a singularly beautiful person. Her complexion was of the +clear olive-brown of a perfectly Moorish skin, with the color of a +damask rose in her cheeks, and lips as red as coral. Her features were +classically symmetrical, as was the soft, oval contour of her face; her +eyes and hair were as black as night, and the former had a halo of fine +lashes of the most magnificent length. She never wore any head-dress but +a white muslin turban, the effect of which on her superb dark face was +strikingly handsome, and not only its singularity but its noble and +becoming simplicity distinguished her in every assembly, amid the +various fantastic head-gear of each successive Parisian "fashion of the +day." As a girl she had been remarkably slender, but she grew to an +enormous size, without the increased bulk of her person disfiguring or +rendering coarse her beautiful face.]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Thursday I acted Lady Townley, and acted it abominably ill, and was +much mortified to find that Cecilia had got my cousin Harry to +chaperon her two boys to the play that night; because, as he never +before went to see me act, it is rather provoking that the only +time he did so I should have sent him to sleep, which he gallantly +assured me I did. I do not find cousins so much more polite than +brothers (one's natural born plagues). Harry's compliment to my +acting had quite a brotherly tenderness, I think. Friday, New +Year's Eve, <a name="Page_323" id="Page_323" ></a><span class="pagenum">[323]</span>we went to a ball at Mrs. G——'s, which I did not much +enjoy; and yesterday, New Year's Day, Henry and I spent the evening +at Mrs. Harry's. There was no one there but Cecy and her two boys, +and we danced, almost without stopping, from eight till twelve.</p></div> + +<p>[The lads my cousin Cecilia called her boys were the two younger sons of +her brother George Siddons, Mrs. Siddons's eldest son, then and for many +years after collector of the port at Calcutta. These lads and their +sisters were being educated in England, and were spending their +Christmas holidays with their grandmother, Mrs. Siddons. The youngest of +these three schoolboys, Henry, was the father of the beautiful Mrs. +Scott-Siddons of the present day. It was in the house of my cousin +George Siddons, then one of the very pleasantest and gayest in Calcutta, +that his young nephew Harry, son of his sister-in-law, my dear Mrs. +Harry Siddons, was to find a home on his arrival in India, and +subsequently a wife in Harriet, the second daughter of the house.]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>I am to act Juliet to-morrow, and Calista on Thursday; Friday and +Saturday I am to act Mrs. Haller and Lady Townley at Brighton. I +shall see the sea, that's one comfort, and it will be something to +live upon for some time to come. Next Wednesday week I am to come +out in Bianca, in Milman's "Fazio." Do you know the play? It is +very powerful, and my part is a very powerful one indeed. I have +hopes it may succeed greatly. Mr. Warde is to be my Fazio, for, I +hear, people object to my having my father's constant support, and +wish to see me act <i>alone</i>; what geese, to be sure! I wonder +whether they think my father has hold of strings by the means of +which he moves my arms and legs! I am very glad something likely to +strike the public is to be given before "Inez de Castro" (a tragedy +of Miss Mitford's), for it will need all the previous success of a +fine play and part to carry us safely through that.</p> + +<p>I have not seen Mr. Murray again; I conclude he is out of town just +now.</p> + +<p>We have made all inquiries about poor dear A——'s trunk, and of +course, as soon as we hear of it, it will be sent to her; I am very +sorry for her, poor dear little child, but I advise her, when she +does get them, to put on each of her new dresses for an hour by +turns, and sit opposite the glass in them. Good-by, dear H——. +Your affectionate</p> + +<p class="signature">F. K.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, 6th January, 1831.<a name="Page_324" id="Page_324" ></a><span class="pagenum">[324]</span></p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I have only time to say two words to you, for I am in the midst of +preparations for our flight to Brighton, to-morrow. Thank you for +your last letter; I liked it very much, and will answer it at +length when we come back to town.</p> + +<p>Mr. Murray has got my MSS., but I have yet heard nothing about it +from him. My fire is not in that economical invention, the +"miserable basket" [an iron frame fitting inside our common-sized +grate to limit the extravagant consumption of coal], but well +spread out in the large comfortable grate; yet I am sitting with my +door and windows all wide open; it is a lovely, bright, mild spring +day. I do not lose my time any more of a morning watching the fire +kindling, for the housemaid lights it before I get out of bed, so +my poetry and philosophy are robbed of a most interesting subject +of meditation.</p> + +<p>With regard to what you say about A——, I do not know that I +expected her to love, though I was sure she would admire, nature; +she is very young yet, and her quick, observant mind and tendency +to wit and sarcasm make human beings more amusing, if not more +interesting, to her than inanimate objects. It is not the beauty of +nature alone, as it appeals merely to our senses, that produces +that passionate love for it which induces us to prefer communion +with it to the intercourse of our fellows. The elevated trains of +thought, and the profound and sublime aspirations which the +external beauty of the world suggests, draw and rivet our mind and +soul to its contemplation, and produce a sort of awful sense of +companionship with the Unseen, which cannot, I think, be an +experience of early youth. For then the volatile, vivid, and +various spirit, with its sympathizing and communicative tendency, +has a strong propensity to spend itself on that which can return +its value in like commodity; and exchange of thought and feeling is +a preponderating desire and necessity, and human fellowship and +intercourse is naturally attractive to unworn and unwearied human +nature. I suppose the consolatory element in the beautiful +<i>un</i>human world in which we live is not often fully appreciated by +the young, they want comparatively so little of it; youth is itself +so thoroughly its own consoler. Some years hence, I dare say A—— +will love both the sea and sky better than she does now. To a +certain degree, too, the love of solitude, which generally +accompanies a <a name="Page_325" id="Page_325" ></a><span class="pagenum">[325]</span>deep love for nature, is a kind of selfishness that +does not often exist in early life.</p> + +<p>I am desired to close this letter immediately; I have therefore +only time to add that I act Calista to-night here, Mrs. Haller +to-morrow at Brighton, and Saturday, also there, Lady Townley. On +Monday I act Juliet here, and on Wednesday Bianca in "Fazio"—when +pray for me! Now you know where to think of me. I will write to you +a <i>real</i> letter on Sunday.</p> + +<p>Kiss A—— for me, and do not be unhappy, my dear, for you will +soon see me again; and in the meantime I advise you, as you think +my picture so much more agreeable than myself, to console yourself +with that. Good-by.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Your affectionate</p><p class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Fanny</span>. +</p></div> + +<p>The fascination of sitting by a brook and watching the lapsing water, +or, on the sands, the oncoming, uprising, breaking, and melting away of +the white wave-crests, is, I suppose, matter of universal experience. I +do not know whether watching fire has the same irresistible attraction +for everybody. It has almost a stronger charm for me; and the hours I +have spent sitting on the rug in front of my grate, and watching the +wonderful creature sparkling and glowing there, have been almost more +than I dare remember. I was obliged at last, in order not to waste half +my day in the contemplation of this bewitching element, to renounce a +practice I long indulged in of lighting my own fire; but to this moment +I envy the servant who does that office, or should envy her but that she +never remains on her knees worshiping the beautiful, subtle spirit she +has evoked, as I could still find it in my heart to do.</p> + +<p>I think I remember that Shelley had this passion for fire-gazing; it's a +comfort to think that whatever he could <i>say</i>, he could never <i>see</i> more +enchanting things in his grate than I have in mine; but indeed, even for +Shelley, the motions and the colors of flames are unspeakable.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, January 9, 1831.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dear H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I promised you a letter to-day, and if I can do so now, at least I +will begin to keep my promise, though I think it possible my +courage may fail me after the first side of my sheet of paper. We +arrived in town from Brighton on this afternoon at <a name="Page_326" id="Page_326" ></a><span class="pagenum">[326]</span>four o'clock, +and though it is not yet ten I am so weary, and have so much to do +to-morrow (rehearsing "Fazio" and acting Juliet), that I think I +shall not sit up much longer to-night, even to write to you.</p> + +<p>We found my mother tolerably well, and Henry, who had been out +skating all day, in great beauty and high spirits. I must now tell +you what I had not room for when I wrote you those few lines in +A——'s letter.</p> + +<p>Mr. Barton, a friend of John's who traveled with him in Germany, +and whose sister has lately married John Sterling (of whom you have +often heard us speak), called here the other day, and during the +course of a long visit told us a great deal of the very beginning +of this Spanish expedition, and of the share Mr. Sterling and +Richard Trench [the present venerable archbishop of Dublin] had in +its launching.</p> + +<p>It seems (though he would not say whence they derived them) that +they were plentifully supplied with funds, with which they +purchased and manned a vessel destined to carry arms and ammunition +to Spain for the purposes of the revolutionists. This ship they put +under command of an experienced <i>smuggler</i>, and it was actually +leaving the mouth of the Thames with Sterling and Mr. Trench on +board it, bound for Spain, when by order of Lord Aberdeen it was +stopped. Our two young gentlemen jumped into a boat and made their +escape, but Mr. Sterling, hearing that government threatened to +proceed against the captain of the captured vessel, came forward +and owned it as his property, and exonerated the man, as far as he +could, from any share of the blame attaching to an undertaking in +which he was an irresponsible instrument. Matters were in this +state, with a prosecution pending over John Sterling, when the +ministry was changed, and nothing further has been done or said by +government on the subject since.</p> + +<p>My brother had gone off to Gibraltar previously to all this, to +take measures for facilitating their landing; he is now quietly and +I hope comfortably wintering there. Torrijos, it seems, is not at +all disheartened, but is waiting for the propitious moment, which, +however, from the appearance of things, I should not consider +likely to be at hand just yet. Mr. Sterling has, I understand, been +so seriously ill since his marriage that at one time his life was +despaired of, and even now that he is a little recovered he is +ordered to Madeira as soon as he can be moved. This is very sad for +his poor bride.</p> + +<p>Of our home circle I have nothing to tell you. My father, Dall, and +I had a very delightful day on Saturday at Brighton. <a name="Page_327" id="Page_327" ></a><span class="pagenum">[327]</span>After a lovely +day's journey, we arrived there on Friday. Our companion in the +coach luckily happened to be a son of Dr. Burney's, who was an old +and intimate friend of my father's, and they discoursed together +the whole way along, of all sorts of events and people: of my uncle +John and my aunt Siddons, in their prime; of Mrs. Jordan and the +late king; of the present one, Harlow, Lawrence, and innumerable +other folk of note and notoriety. Among other things they had a +long discussion on the subject of Hamlet's feigned or—as my father +maintains and I believe—real madness; all this formed a very +amusing accompaniment to the history of Sir Launcelot du Lac, which +I was reading with much delight when I was not listening to their +conversation.</p> + +<p>I like all that concerns the love adventures of these valorous +knights of yore; but their deadly blows and desperate thrusts, +their slashing, gashing, mashing, mangling, and hewing bore me to +death. The fate of Guinevere interested me deeply, but Sir +Launcelot's warlike exploits I got dreadfully weary of; I prefer +him greatly in hall and bower rather than in tournament and +battle-field.</p> + +<p>We got into Brighton at half-past four, and had just time to dine, +dress, and go to the theater, where we were to act "The Stranger." +The house was very full indeed, but my reception was not quite what +I had expected; for whether they were disappointed in my dress +(Mrs. Haller being traditionally clothed in droopacious white +muslin, and I dressing her in gray silk, which is both stiff and +dull looking, as I think it should be), or whether, which I think +still more likely, they were disappointed in my "personal +appearance," which, as you know, is neither tragical nor heroic, I +know not, but I thought their welcome rather, cold; but the truth +is, I believe my London audience spoils me for every other. +However, the play went off admirably, and I believe everybody was +satisfied, not excepting the manager, who assured me so full and +<i>enthusiastic</i> a house had not been seen in Brighton for many +years.</p> + +<p>Our rooms at the inn [the old Ship was then <i>the</i> famous Brighton +hotel] looked out upon the sea, but it was so foggy when we entered +Brighton that although I perceived the <i>motion</i> of the waves +through the mist that hung over them, their color and every object +along the shore was quite indistinct. The next morning was +beautiful. Dall and I ran down to the beach before breakfast; there +are no sands, unluckily, but we stood ankle-deep in the shingles, +watching the ebbing tide and sniffing the sweet salt air for a long +time with great satisfaction. <a name="Page_328" id="Page_328" ></a><span class="pagenum">[328]</span>After breakfast we rehearsed "The +Provoked Husband," and from the theater proceeded to take a walk.</p> + +<p>All this was very fine, but still it was streets and houses; and +there were crowds of gay people parading up and down, looking as +busy about nothing and as full of themselves as if the great awful +sea had not been close beside them. In fact, I was displeased with +the levity of their deportment, and the contrast of all that +fashionable frivolity with the grandest of all natural objects +seemed to me incongruous and discordant; and I was so annoyed at +finding myself by the sea-side and <i>yet</i> still surrounded with all +the glare and gayety of London, that I think I wished myself at the +bottom of the cliff and Brighton at the bottom of the sea. However, +we walked on and on, beyond the Parade, beyond the town, till we +had nothing but the broad open downs to contrast with the broad +open sea, and then I was completely happy. I gave my muff to my +father and my fur tippet to Dall, for the sun shone powerfully on +the heights, and I walked and ran along the edge of the cliffs, +gazing and pondering, and enjoying the solemn sound and the +brilliant sight, and the nervous excitement of a slight sense of +fear as I peeped over at the depth below me. From this diversion, +however, my father called me away, and, to console me for not +allowing me to run the risk of being dashed to pieces, offered to +run a race up a small hill with me, and beat me hollow.</p> + +<p>We had walked about four miles when we halted at one of the +Preventive Service stations to look about us. The tide had not yet +come in, but its usual height when up was indicated, first by a +delicate, waving fringe of sea-weed, like very bright green moss, +and then, nearer in shore, by an incrustation of chalk washed from +the cliffs, which formed a deep embossed silver embroidery along +the coast as far as eye could see. The sunshine was dazzling, and +its light on the detached masses of milky chalk which lay far +beneath us made them appear semi-transparent, like fragments of +alabaster or carnelian. I was wishing that I <i>could but</i> get down +the cliff, when a worthy sailor appeared toiling up it, and I +discovered his winding stair case cut in the great chalk wall, down +which I proceeded without further ado. I was a little frightened, +for the steps were none of the most regular or convenient, and I +felt as if I were hanging (and at an uncomfortable distance from +either) between heaven and earth. I got down safe, however, and ran +to the water's edge, danced a galop on one smooth little sand +island, waited till the tide, which was coming up, just touched my +toes, gave it a kick of cowardly defiance, and then showed it a +<a name="Page_329" id="Page_329" ></a><span class="pagenum">[329]</span>fair pair of heels and scrambled up the cliff again, very much +enchanted with my expedition.</p> + +<p>I think a fight with smugglers up that steep staircase at night, +with a heavy sea rolling and roaring close under it, would be +glorious! When I reached the top my father said it was time to go +home, so we returned. The Parade was crowded like Hyde Park in the +height of the season [Thackeray called Brighton London-super-Mare], +and when once I was out of the crowd and could look down upon it +from our windows as it promenaded up and down, I never saw anything +gayer: carriages of every description—most of them +open—cavalcades of ladies and gentlemen riding to and fro, throngs +of smart bonnets and fine dresses; and beyond all this the high +tide, with one broad crimson path across it, thrown by the sun, +looking as if it led into some enchanted world beyond the waters.</p> + +<p>I thought of dear A——; for though she is seeing the sea—and I +think the sea at Ardgillan, with its lovely mountains on one side +and Skerries on the other, far more beautiful than this—I am sure +she would have been enchanted with the life, the bustle, and +brilliancy of the Parade combined with its fine sea view, for I, +who am apt rather selfishly to wish myself alone in the enjoyment +of nature, looked at the bright, moving throng with pleasure when +once I was out of it.</p> + +<p>Our house at the theater at night was very fine; and now, as you +are perhaps tired of Brighton, you will not be sorry to get home +with me; but pray communicate the end of our "land sorrow" to +A——. We were to start for London Sunday morning at ten [a journey +of six hours by coach, now of less than two by rail], and my father +had taken three inside places in a coach, which was to call for us +at our inn. I ran down to the beach and had a few moments alone +there. It was a beautiful morning, and the fishing boats were one +by one putting out into the calmest sleepy sea. I longed to ask to +be taken on board one of them; but I was summoned away to the +coach, and found on reaching it that, the fourth place being +occupied by a sickly looking woman with a sickly looking child +nearly as big as herself in her lap, my father, notwithstanding the +coldness of the morning, had put himself on the outside. I went to +sleep; from which blessed refuge of the wretched I was recalled by +a powerful and indescribable smell, which, seizing me by the nose, +naturally induced me to open my eyes. Mother and daughter were each +devouring a lump of black, strong, greasy plum cake; as a specific, +I presume, against (or for?) sickness in a stage-coach.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330" ></a><span class="pagenum">[330]</span>The late Duke of Beaufort, when Marquis of Worcester, used +frequently to amuse himself by driving the famous fast Brighton +coach, the Highflyer. One day, as my father was hastily depositing +his shilling gratuity in his driver's outstretched hand, a shout of +laughter, and a "Thank ye, Charles Kemble," made him aware of the +gentleman Jehu under whose care he had performed the journey.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Wednesday</span>, January 12, 1831.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I received your letter dated the 7th the night before last, and +purposed ending this long epistle yesterday evening with an answer +to it, but was prevented by having to go with my mother to dine +with Mrs. L——, that witty woman and more than middle-aged beauty +you have heard me speak of. I was repaid for the exertion I had not +made very willingly, for I had a pleasant dinner. This lady has a +large family and very large fortune, which at her death goes to her +eldest son, who is a young man of enthusiastically religious views +and feelings; he has no profession or occupation, but devotes +himself to building chapels and schools, which he himself +superintends with unwearied assiduity; and though he has never +taken orders, he preaches at some place in the city, to which +crowds of people flock to hear him; none of which is at all +agreeable to his mother, whose chief anxiety, however, is lest some +one of the fair Methodists who attend his exhortations should +admire his earthly expectations as much as his heavenly prospects, +and induce this young apostle to marry her for her soul's sake; all +which his mother told mine, with many lamentations over the godly +zeal of her "serious" son, certainly not often made with regard to +young men who are likely to inherit fine fortunes and estates. One +of this young gentleman's sisters is strongly imbued with the same +religious feeling, and I think her impressions deepened by her very +delicate state of health. I am much attracted by her gentle manner, +and the sweet, serious expression of her face, and the earnest tone +of her conversation; I like her very much.</p> + +<p>My mother is reading Moore's "Life of Byron," and has fallen in +love with the latter and in hate with his wife. She declares that +he was originally good, generous, humble, religious—indeed, +everything that a man can be, short of absolute perfection. She +thinks me narrow-minded and prejudiced because I do not care to +read his life, and because, in spite of all Moore's assertions, I +maintain that with Byron's own works in <a name="Page_331" id="Page_331" ></a><span class="pagenum">[331]</span>one's hand his character +cannot possibly be a riddle to anybody. I dare say the devil may +sometimes be painted blacker than he is; but Byron has a fancy for +the character of Lucifer, and seems to me, on the contrary, <i>très +pauvre diable</i>. I have no idea that Byron was half fiend, half man +(at least, no more so than all of us are); I dare say he was not at +all really an atheist, as he has been reputed; indeed, I do not +think Lord Byron, in spite of all the fuss that has been made about +him, was by any means an uncommon character. His genius was indeed +rare, but his pride, vanity, and selfishness were only so in +degree. You know, H——, nobody was ever a more fanatical worshiper +of his poetry than I was: time was that I devoured his verses +(poison as they were to me) like "raspberry tarts;" I still know, +and remember with delight, their exquisite beauty and noble vigor, +but they don't agree with me. And, without knowing anything of his +religious doubts or moral delinquencies, I cannot at all agree with +Mr. Moore that upon the showing of his own works Byron was a "good +man." If he was, no one has done him such injustice as himself; and +if <i>he</i> was <i>good</i>, then what was Milton? and what genial and +gentle Shakespeare?</p> + +<p>Good-by, dear H——; write me along "thank you" for this longest of +mortal letters, and believe that I am your ever affectionate</p> + +<p class="signature">F. A. K.</p> + +<p>I began living upon my allowance on New Year's Day, and am keeping +a most rigorous account of every farthing I spend. I have a +tolerable "acquisitiveness" among my other organs, but think I +would rather get than keep money, and to earn would always be +pleasanter to me than to save. I act in "Fazio" to-night, Friday, +and Monday next, so you will know where to find me on those +evenings.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Monday</span>, 27th.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dear H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>Horace Twiss has been out of town, and I have been obliged to delay +this for a frank. You will be glad, I know, to hear that "Fazio" +has made a great hit. Milman is coming to see me in it to-night; I +wish I could induce him to write me such another part.</p> + +<p>We are over head and ears in the mire of chancery again. The +question of the validity of our—the great theater—patents is now +before Lord Brougham; I am afraid they are not worth <a name="Page_332" id="Page_332" ></a><span class="pagenum">[332]</span>a farthing. I +am to hear from Mr. Murray some day this week; considering the +features of my handwriting, it is no wonder it has taken him some +time to become acquainted with the MSS.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, January 29, 1831.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dear H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>All our occupations have been of a desultory and exciting kind, and +all our doings and sayings have been made matter of surprise and +admiring comment; of course, therefore, we are disinclined for +anything like serious or solid study, and naturally conclude that +sayings and doings so much admired and wondered at <i>are</i> admirable +and astonishing. A—— is possessed of strong powers of ridicule, +and the union of this sarcastic vein with a vivid imagination seems +to me unusual; their prey is so different that they seldom hunt in +company, I think. When I heard that she was reading "Mathilde" +(Madame Cottin), I was almost afraid of its effect upon her. I +remember at school, when I was her age, crying three whole days and +half nights over it; but I sadly overrated her sensibility. Her +letter to me contained a summary, abusive criticism of "Mathilde" +as a book, and ended by presenting to me one of those ludicrous +images which I abhor, because, while they destroy every serious or +elevated impression, they are so absurd that one cannot defend +one's self from the "idiot laughter" they excite, and leave one no +associations but grinning ones with one's romantic ideals. Her +letters are very clever and make me laugh exceedingly, but I am +sorry she has such a detestation of Mrs. Marcet and natural +philosophy. As for her letters being shown about, I am not sorry +that my indiscretion has relieved A—— from a restraint which, if +it had only been disagreeable to her, would not have mattered so +much, but which is calculated to destroy all possibility of free +and natural correspondence, and inevitably renders letters mere +compositions and their young authors vain and pretentious. I have +always thought the system a bad one, for under it, if a girl's +letters are thought dull, she feels as if she had made a failure, +and if they are laughed at and passed from hand to hand with her +knowledge, the result is much worse; and in either case, what she +writes is no longer the simple expression of her thoughts and +feelings, but samples of wit, ridicule, and comic fancy which are +to be thought amusing and clever by others than those to whom they +are addressed.</p> + +<p>You say my mother in her note to you speaks well of my act<a name="Page_333" id="Page_333" ></a><span class="pagenum">[333]</span>ing in +Bianca. It has succeeded very well, and I think I act some of it +very well; but my chief pleasure in its success was certainly her +approbation. She is a very severe critic, and, as she censures +sharply, I am only too thankful when I escape her condemnation. I +think you will be pleased with Bianca. I was surprised when I came +to act it at finding how terribly it affected me, for I am not +naturally at all jealous, and in this play, while feigning to be +so, it seemed to me that it must be really the most horrible +suffering conceivable; I am almost sorry that I can imagine it well +enough to represent it well.</p> + +<p>You say that we love intellect, but I do not agree with you; I do +not think intellect excites love. I do not even think that it +increases our love for those we do love, though it adds admiration +to our affection. I certainly do admire intellect immensely; mental +power, which allied to moral power, goodness, is a force to uphold +the universe.</p> + +<p>I have forsworn all discussions about Byron; my mother and I differ +so entirely on the subject that, as I cannot adopt her view of his +character, I find it easier to be silent about my own. Perhaps her +extreme admiration of him may have thrown me into a deeper +disapprobation than I should otherwise have expressed. He has many +excuses, doubtless: the total want of early restraint, the +miserable influence of the injudicious mother who alternately +idolized and victimized him, the bitter castigation of his first +plunge into literature, and then the flattering, fawning, fulsome +adoration of his habitual associates, of course were all against +him; but, after all, one cannot respect the man who strikes colors +to the enemy as one does the one who comes conqueror out of the +conflict. I now believe that there is a great deal of unreality in +those sentiments to which the charm of his verses lent an +appearance of truth and depth; in fact, his poetical feelings will +sometimes stand the test of sober reflection quite as little as his +grammar will that of a severe application of the rules of syntax. +He has written immensely for mere effect, but all young people read +him, and young people are not apt to analyze closely what they feel +strongly, and, judging by my own experience, I should think Byron +had done more mischief than one would like to be answerable for. +When I said this the other day to my mother, she replied by +referring to his "Don Juan," supposing that I alluded to his +profligacy; but it is not "Don Juan" only or chiefly that I think +so mischievous, but "Manfred," "Cain," "Lucifer," "Childe Harold," +and through them all Byron's own spirit—the despondent, defiant, +questioning, murmuring, <a name="Page_334" id="Page_334" ></a><span class="pagenum">[334]</span>bitter, proud spirit, that acts powerfully +and dangerously on young brains and throws poison into their +natural fermentation.</p> + +<p>Since you say that my perpetual quotation of that stupid song, "Old +Wilson is Dead," worries you, I will renounce my delight in teasing +you with it. The love of teasing is, of course, only a base form of +the love of power. Mr. Harness and I had a long discussion the +other night about the Cenci; he maintains your opinion, that the +wicked old nobleman was absolutely mad; but I argued the point +stoutly for his sanity, and very nearly fell into the fire with +dismay when I was obliged to confess that if he was not mad, then +his actuating motive was simply <i>the love of power</i>. Do you know +that that play was sent over by Shelley to England with a view to +Miss O'Neill acting Beatrice Cenci? If it were ever possible that +the piece could be acted, I should think an audience might be half +killed with the horror of that entrance of Beatrice when she +describes the marble pavement sliding from beneath her feet.</p> + +<p>Did my mother tell you in her note that Milman was at the play the +other night, and said I had made Bianca exactly what he intended? I +wish he would write another tragedy. I think perhaps he will, from +something Murray said the other day. That eminent publisher still +has my MSS. in his possession, but you know I can take things +easily, and I don't feel anxious about his decision. I act in +"Fazio" Monday and Wednesday, and Friday and Saturday Mrs. Beverley +and Belvidera at Brighton.</p></div> + +<p>I was inexpressibly relieved by receiving a letter from my brother, and +the intelligence that if I answered him he would be able to receive my +reply, which I made immediate speed to send him.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dear Mrs. Jameson</span>, +</p> + +<p>My brother John is alive, safe and well, in Gibraltar. You deserve +to know this, but it is all I can say to you. My mother has +suffered so much that she hardly feels her joy; it has broken her +down, and I, who have borne up well till now, feel prostrated by +this reprieve. God be thanked for all his mercies! I can say no +more.</p> + +<p class="signature">F. A. K.</p></div> + + + +<p><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335" ></a><span class="pagenum">[335]</span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, February 7, 1831.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dear H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I found your lecture waiting for me on my return from Brighton; I +call it thus because if your two last were less than letters your +yesterday's one is more; but I shall not attempt at present to +follow you to the misty heights whither our nature tends, or dive +with you into the muddy depths whence it springs. I have heard from +my brother John, and now expect almost hourly to see him. The +Spanish revolution, as he now sees and as many foresaw, is a mere +vision. The people are unready, unripe, unfit, and therefore +unwilling; had it not been so they would have done their work +themselves; it is as impossible to urge on the completion of such a +change before the time as to oppose it when the time is come. John +now writes that, all hope of rousing the Spaniards being over, and +their party consequently dispersing, he is thinking of bending his +steps homeward, and talks of once more turning his attention to the +study of the law. I know not what to say or think. My cousin, +Horace Twiss, was put into Parliament by Lord Clarendon, but the +days of such parliamentary patronage are numbered, and I do not +much deplore it, though I sometimes fancy that the House of +Commons, could it by any means have been opened to him, might +perhaps have been the best sphere for John. His natural abilities +are brilliant, and his eloquence, energy, and activity of mind +might perhaps have been made more and more quickly available for +good purposes in that than in any other career.</p> + +<p>I am not familiar with all that Burns has written; I have read his +letters, and know most of his songs by heart. His passions were so +violent that he seems to me in that respect to have been rather a +subject for poetry than a poet; for though a poet should perhaps +have a strongly passionate nature, he should also have power enough +over it to be able to observe, describe, and, if I may so say, +experimentalize with it, as he would with the passions of others. I +think it would better qualify a man to be a poet to be able to +perceive rather than liable to feel violent passion or emotion. May +not such things be known of without absolute experience? What is +the use of the poetical imagination, that lower inspiration, which, +like the <a name="Page_336" id="Page_336" ></a><span class="pagenum">[336]</span>higher one of faith, is the "evidence of things not seen"? +Troubled and billowy waters reflect nothing distinctly on their +surface; it is the still, deep, placid element that gives back the +images by which it is surrounded or that pass over its surface. I +do not of course believe that a good man is necessarily a poet, but +I think a devout man is almost always a man with a poetical +imagination; he is familiar with ideas which are essentially +sublime, and in the act of adoration he springs to the source of +all beauty through the channel by which our spirits escape most +effectually from their chain, the flesh, and their prison-house, +the world, and rise into communion with that supreme excellence +from which they originally emanated and into whose bosom they will +return. I cannot now go into all I think about this, for I have so +many other things to talk about. Since I began this letter I have +heard a report that John is a prisoner, that he has been arrested +and sent to Madrid. Luckily I do not believe a word of this; if he +has rendered himself obnoxious to the British authorities in +Gibraltar they may have locked him up for a week or two there, and +I see no great harm in that; but that he should have been delivered +to the Spaniards and sent to Madrid I do not believe, because I +know that the whole revolutionary party is going to pieces, and +that they have neither the power nor the means to render themselves +liable to such a disagreeable distinction. We expect him home every +day. Only conceive, dear H——, the ill-fortune that attends us: my +father, or rather the theater, is involved in six lawsuits I He and +my mother are neither of them quite well; anxiety naturally has +much share in their indisposition.</p> + +<p>I learned Beatrice this morning and the whole of it, in an hour, +which I tell you because I consider it a feat. I am delighted at +the thoughts of acting it; it will be the second part which I shall +have acted with real pleasure; Portia is the other, but Beatrice is +not nearly so nice. I am to act it next Thursday, when pray think +of me.</p> + +<p>I do not know whether you have seen anything in the papers about a +third theater; we have had much anxiety, vexation, and expense +about it, but I have no doubt that Mr. Arnold will carry the +question. The great people want a plaything for this season, and +have set their hearts upon that. I acted Belvidera to my father's +Jaffier at Brighton; you cannot imagine how great a difference it +produced in my acting. Mrs. Siddons and Miss O'Neill had a great +advantage over me in their tragic partners. Have you heard that Mr. +Hope, the author of <a name="Page_337" id="Page_337" ></a><span class="pagenum">[337]</span>"Anastasius," is just dead? That was a +wonderfully clever book, of rather questionable moral effects, I +think; the same sort of cynical gloom and discontent which pervade +Byron's writings prevail in that; and I thought it a pity, because +in other respects it seems a genuine book, true to life and human +nature. A few days before I heard of his death, Mr. Harness was +discussing with me a theory of Hope's respecting the destiny of the +human soul hereafter. His notion is that all spirit is after death +to form but one whole spiritual existence, a sort of <i>lumping</i> +which I object to. I should like always to be able to know myself +from somebody else.</p> + +<p>I <i>do</i> read the papers sometimes, dear H——, and, whenever I do, I +wonder at you and all sensible people who make a daily practice of +it; the proceedings of Parliament would make one angry if they did +not make one so sad, and some of the debates would seem to me +laughable but that I know they are lamentable.</p> + +<p>I have just finished Channing's essay on Milton, which is +admirable.</p> + +<p>My cousin Harry sails for India on Thursday; his mother is making a +brave fight of it, poor soul! I met them all at my aunt Siddons's +last night; she was remarkably well, and "charming," as she styles +herself when that is the case. Good-by. Always affectionately +yours,</p> + +<p class="signature"><span class="smcap">Fanny</span>.</p></div> + +<p>I suppose it is one of the peculiarities of the real poetical +temperament to receive, as it were, a double impression of its own +phenomena—one through the senses, affections, and passions, and one +through the imagination—and to have a perpetual tendency to make +intellectual capital of the experiences of its own sensuous, +sentimental, and passionate nature. In the above letter, written so many +years ago, I have used the term <i>experimentalizing</i> with his own nature +as the process of a poet's mind; but though self-consciousness and +self-observation are almost inseparable from the poetical organization, +Goethe is the only instance I know of what could, with any propriety, be +termed self-experimentalizing—he who wrung the heart and turned the +head of the whole reading Europe of his day by his own love passages +with Madame Kestner transcribed into "The Sorrows of Werther."</p> + +<p>Self-illustration is perhaps a better term for the result of that +passionate egotism which is so strong an element in the nature of most +poets, and the secret of so much of their power. <i>Ils <a name="Page_338" id="Page_338" ></a><span class="pagenum">[338]</span>s'intéressent +tellement à ce qui les regarde</i>, that they interest us profoundly in it +too, and by the law of our common nature, and the sympathy that pervades +it, their great difference from their kind serves but to enforce their +greater likeness to it.</p> + +<p>Goethe's nature, however, was not at all a predominantly passionate one; +so much the contrary, indeed, that one hardly escapes the impression all +through his own record of his life that he <i>felt</i> through his +overmastering intellect rather than his heart; and that he analyzed too +well the processes of his own feelings ever to have been carried by them +beyond the permission of his will, or out of sight of that æsthetic +self-culture, that development, which really seems to have been his +prevailing passion. A strong histrionic vein mixes, too, with his more +imaginative mental qualities, and perpetually reveals itself in his +assumption of fictitious characters, in his desire for producing +"situations" in his daily life, and in his conscious "effects" upon +those whom he sought to impress.</p> + +<p>His genius sometimes reminds me of Ariel—the subtle spirit who, +observing from aloof, as it were (that is, from the infinite distance of +his own <i>unmoral</i>, demoniacal nature), the follies and sins and sorrows +of humanity, understands them all and sympathizes with none of them; and +describes, with equal indifference, the drunken, brutish delight in his +music expressed by the coarse Neapolitan buffoons and the savage +gorilla, Caliban, and the abject self-reproach and bitter, poignant +remorse exhibited by Antonio and his fellow conspirators; telling +Prospero that if <i>he</i> saw them he would pity them, and adding, in his +passionless perception of their anguish, "I should, sir, <i>were I +human</i>."</p> + +<p>There is a species of remote partiality in Goethe's mode of delineating +the sins and sorrows of his fellows, that seems hardly human and still +less divine; "<i>Das ist dämonisch</i>," to use his own expression about +Shakespeare, who, however, had nothing whatever in common with that +quality of moral <i>neutrality</i> of the great German genius.</p> + +<p>Perhaps nothing indicates what I should call Goethe's intellectual +<i>unhumanity</i> so much as his absolute want of sympathy with the progress +of the race. He was but mortal man, however, though he had the head of +Jove, and Pallas Athena might have sprung all armed from it. Once, and +once only, if I remember rightly, in his conversations with Eckermann, +the cause of mankind elicits an expression of faith and hope from him, +in some reference to the future of America. I recollect, <a name="Page_339" id="Page_339" ></a><span class="pagenum">[339]</span>on reading the +second part of "Faust" with my friend Abeken (assuredly the most +competent of all expounders of that extraordinary composition), when I +asked him what was the signification of that final cultivation of the +barren sea sand, in Faust's blind old age, and cried, "Is it possible +that he wishes to indicate the hopelessness of all attempt at progress?" +his replying, "I am afraid he was no believer in it." And so it comes +that his letters to Madame von Stein leave one only amazed with the more +sorrowful admiration that the unrivaled genius of the civilized world in +its most civilized age found perfect satisfaction in the inane routine +of the life of a court dignitary in a petty German principality.</p> + +<p>It is worthy of note how, in the two instances of his great +masterpieces, "Faust" and "Wilhelm Meister," Goethe has worked up in a +sequel all the superabundant material he had gathered for his subject; +and in each case how the life-blood of the poet pulses through the first +part, while the second is, as it were, a mere storehouse of splendid +intellectual supply which he has wrought into elaborate phantasmagoria, +dazzling in their brilliancy and wonderful in their variety, but all +alike difficult to comprehend and sympathize with—the rare mental +fragments, precious like diamond dust, left after the cutting of those +two perfect gems.</p> + +<p>Free-trade had hardly uttered a whisper yet upon any subject of national +importance when the monopoly of theatrical property was attacked by Mr. +Arnold, of the English Opera House, who assailed the patents of the two +great theaters, Covent Garden and Drury Lane, and demanded that the +right to act the legitimate drama (till then their especial privilege) +should be extended to all British subjects desirous to open play-houses +and perform plays. A lawsuit ensued, and the proprietors of the great +houses—"his Majesty's servants," by his Majesty's royal patent since +the days of the merry monarch—defended their monopoly to the best of +their ability. My father, questioned before a committee of the House of +Commons upon the subject, showed forth the evils likely, in his opinion, +to result to the dramatic art and the public taste by throwing open to +unlimited speculation the right to establish theaters and give +theatrical representations. The great companies of good sterling actors +would be broken up and dispersed, and there would no longer exist +establishments sufficiently important to maintain any large body of +them; the best plays would no longer find adequate representatives in +any but a few of the principal parts, the characters of theatrical +pieces produced <a name="Page_340" id="Page_340" ></a><span class="pagenum">[340]</span>would be lowered, the school of fine and careful acting +would be lost, no play of Shakespeare's could be decorously put on the +stage, and the profession and the public would alike fare the worse for +the change. But he was one of the patented proprietors, one of the +monopolists, a party most deeply interested in the issue, and therefore, +perhaps, an incompetent judge in the matter. The cause went against us, +and every item of his prophecy concerning the stage has undoubtedly come +to pass. The fine companies of the great theaters were dissolved, and +each member of the body that together formed so bright a constellation +went off to be the solitary star or planet of some minor sphere. The +best plays no longer found decent representatives for any but one or two +of their first parts; the pieces of more serious character and higher +pretension as dramatic works were supplanted by burlesques and parodies +of themselves; the school of acting of the Kembles, Young, the Keans, +Macready, and their contemporaries, gave place to no school at all of +very clever ladies and gentlemen, who certainly had no pretension to act +tragedy or declaim blank verse, but who played low comedy better than +high, and lowest farce best of all, and who for the most part wore the +clothes of the sex to which they did not belong. Shakespeare's plays +<i>all</i> became historical, and the profession was decidedly the worse for +the change; I am not aware, however, that the public has suffered much +by it.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, March 5, 1831.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I am extremely obliged to you for your long account of Mrs. John +Kemble, and all the details respecting her with which, as you knew +how intensely interesting they were likely to be to me, you have so +kindly filled your letter. Another time, if you can afford to give +a page or two to her interesting dog, Pincher, I shall be still +more grateful; you know it is but omitting the superfluous word or +two you squeeze in about yourself.</p> + +<p>As for the journal I keep, it is—as what is not?—a matter of +mingled good and bad influences and results. I am so much alone +that I find this pouring out of my thoughts and feelings a certain +satisfaction; but unfortunately one's book is only a recipient, and +not a commentary, and I miss the sifting, examining, scrutinizing, +discussing intercourse that compels one to the analysis of one's +own ideas and sentiments, and makes the society of any one with +whom one communicates unreservedly so much more profitable, as well +as pleasurable, <a name="Page_341" id="Page_341" ></a><span class="pagenum">[341]</span>than this everlasting self-communion. I miss my +wholesome bitters, my daily dose of contradiction; and you need not +be jealous of my book, for it is a miserable <i>pis aller</i> for our +interminable talks.</p> + +<p>I had a visit from J—— F—— the other day, and she stayed an +hour, talking very pleasantly, and a little after your fashion; for +she propounded the influence of matter over mind and the +impossibility of preserving a sound and vigorous spirit in a weak +and suffering body. I am blessed with such robust health that my +moral shortcomings, however anxious I may be to refer them to +side-ache, toothache, or any other ache, I am afraid deserve small +mercy on the score of physical infirmity; but she, poor thing, I am +sorry to say, suffers much and often from ill health, and +complained, with evident experience, of the difficulty of +preserving a cheerful spirit and an even temper in the dreary +atmosphere of a sick-room.</p> + +<p>When she was gone I set to work with "Francis I.," and corrected +all the errors in the meter which Mr. Milman had had the kindness +to point out to me. I then went over Beatrice with my mother, who +takes infinite pains with me and seems to think I profit. She went +to the play with Mrs. Fitzgerald and Mrs. Edward Romilly, who is a +daughter of Mrs. Marcet, and, owing to A——'s detestation of that +learned lady's elementary book on natural philosophy, I was very +desirous they should not meet one another, though certainly, if any +of Mrs. Marcet's works are dry and dull, it is not this charming +daughter of hers.</p> + +<p>But A—— was rabid against "Nat. Phil.," as she ignominiously +nick-named Mrs. Marcet's work on natural philosophy, and so I +brought her to the theater with me; and she stayed in my +dressing-room when I was there, and in my aunt Siddons's little box +when I was acting, as you used to do; but she sang all the while +she was with me, and though I made no sign, it gave me the nervous +fidgets to such a degree that I almost forgot my part. In spite of +which I acted better, for my mother said so; and there is some hope +that by the time the play is withdrawn I shall not play Beatrice +"like the chief mourner at a funeral," which is what she benignly +compares my performance of the part to.</p> + +<p>The alteration in my gowns met with her entire approbation—I mean +the taking away of the plaits from round the waist—and my aunt +Dall pronounced it an immense improvement and wished you could see +it.</p> + +<p>Lady Dacre and her daughter, Mrs. Sullivan, and Mr. James <a name="Page_342" id="Page_342" ></a><span class="pagenum">[342]</span>Wortley +were in the orchestra, and came after the play to supper with us, +as did Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald, Mrs. Edward Romilly, and Mr. +Harness: a very pleasant party, for the ladies are all clever and +charming, and got on admirably together.</p> + +<p>It is right, as you are a shareholder in that valuable property of +ours, Covent Garden, you should know that there was a very fine +house, though I cannot exactly tell you the amount of the receipts.</p> + +<p>I miss you dreadfully, my dear H——, and I do wish you could come +back to us when Dorothy has left you; but I know that cannot be, +and so I look forward to the summer time, the sunny time, the rosy +time, when I shall be with you again at Ardgillan.</p> + +<p>Yesterday, I read for the first time Joanna Baillie's "Count +Basil." I am not sure that the love she describes does not affect +me more even than Shakespeare's delineation of the passion in +"Romeo and Juliet." There is a nerveless despondency about it that +seems to me more intolerable than all the vivid palpitating anguish +of the tragedy of Verona; it is like dying of slow poison, or +malarial fever, compared with being shot or stabbed or even +bleeding to death, which is life pouring out from one, instead of +drying up in one's brains. I think the lines beginning—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I have seen the last look of her heavenly eyes,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>some of the most poignantly pathetic I know. I afterward read over +again Mr. Procter's play; it is extremely well written, but I am +afraid it would not act as well as it reads. I believe I told you +that "Iñez de Castro" was finally given up.</p> + +<p>Sally and Lizzy Siddons came and sat with me for some time; they +seem well and cheerful. Their mother, they said, was not very well; +how should she be! though, indeed, regret would be selfish. Her son +is gone to fulfill his own wishes in pursuing the career for which +he was most fit; he will find in his uncle George Siddons's house +in Calcutta almost a second home. Sally, whom you know I respect +almost as much as love, said it was surprising how soon they had +learned to accept and become reconciled to their brother's +departure. Besides all our self-invoked aids of reason and +religion, nature's own provision for the need of our sorrows is +more bountiful and beneficent than we always perceive or +acknowledge. No one can go on living upon agony; we cannot grieve +for ever if we would, and our most strenuous efforts of +self-control derive help from the inevitable law of change, against +which we some<a name="Page_343" id="Page_343" ></a><span class="pagenum">[343]</span>times murmur and struggle as if it wronged our +consistency in sorrow and constancy in love. The tendency to <i>heal</i> +is as universal as the liability to <i>smart</i>. You always speak of +change with a sort of vague horror that surprises me. Though all +things round us are for ever shifting and altering, and though we +ourselves vary and change, there is a supreme spirit of +steadfastness in the midst of this huge unrest, and an abiding, +unshaken, immovable principle of good guiding this vanishing world +of fluctuating atoms, in whose eternal permanence of nature we +largely participate, and our tendency toward and aspiration for +whose perfect stability is one of the very causes of the progress, +and therefore mutability, of our existence. Perhaps the most +painful of all the forms in which change confronts us is in the +increased infirmities and diminished graces which after long +absence we observe in those we love; the failure of power and +vitality in the outward frame, the lessened vividness of the +intellect we have admired, strike us with a sharp surprise of +distress, and it is startling to have revealed suddenly to us, in +the condition of others, how rapidly, powerfully, and unobservedly +time has been dealing with ourselves. But those who believe in +eternity should be able to accept time, and the ruin of the altar +from which the flame leaps up to heaven signifies little.</p> + +<p>My father and I went to visit Macdonald's collection of sculpture +to-day. I was very much pleased with some of the things; there are +some good colossal figures, and an exquisite statue of a kneeling +girl, that charmed me greatly; there are some excellent busts, too. +How wonderfully that irrevocable substance assumes the soft, round +forms of life! The color in its passionless purity (absence of +color, I suppose I should say) is really harder than the substance +itself of marble. I could not fall in love with a statue, as the +poor girl in Procter's poem did with the Apollo Belvidere, though I +think I could with a fine portrait: how could one fall in love with +what had no eyes! Was it not Thorwaldsen who said that the three +materials in which sculptors worked—clay, plaster, and +marble—were like life, death, and immortality? I thought my own +bust (the one Macdonald executed in Edinburgh, you know) very good; +the marble is beautiful, and I really think my friend did wonders +with his impracticable subject; the shape of the head and shoulders +is very pretty. I wonder what Sappho was like! An ugly woman, it is +said; I do not know upon what authority, unless her own; but I +wonder what kind of ugliness she enjoyed! Among other heads, we saw +one of Brougham's mother, a venerable and striking countenance, +very becoming the <a name="Page_344" id="Page_344" ></a><span class="pagenum">[344]</span>mother of the Chancellor of England. There was a +bust, too, of poor Mr. Huskisson, taken after death. I heard a +curious thing of him to-day: it seems that on the night before the +opening of the railroad, as he was sitting with some friends, he +said, "I cannot tell what ails me; I have a strange weight on my +spirits; I am sure something dreadful will happen to-morrow; I wish +it were over;" and that, when they recapitulated all the +precautions, and all the means that had been taken for security, +comfort, and pleasure, all he replied was, "I wish to God it were +over!" There is something awful in these stories of presentiments +that always impresses me deeply—this warning shadow, projected by +no perceptible object, falling darkly and chilly over one; this +indistinct whisper of destiny, of which one hears the sound, +without distinguishing the sense; this muffled tread of Fate +approaching us!</p> + +<p>Did you read Horace Twiss's speech on the Reform Bill? Every one +seems to think it was excellent, whether they agree with his +opinions and sentiments or not. I saw by the paper, to-day, that an +earthquake had been felt along the coast near Dover. A—— says the +world is coming to an end. We certainly live in strange times, but +for that matter so has everybody that ever lived.</p></div> + +<p>[In the admirable letter of Lord Macaulay to Mr. Ellis, describing the +division of the house on the second reading of the Reform Bill, given in +Mr. Trevelyan's life of his uncle, the great historian says Horace +Twiss's countenance at the liberal victory looked like that of a "damned +soul." If, instead of a lost soul, he had said poor Horace looked like a +<i>lost seat</i>, he would have been more accurate, if not as picturesque. +Mr. Twiss sat for one of Lord Clarendon's boroughs, and the passage of +the Reform Bill was sure to dismiss him from Parliament; a serious thing +in his future career, fortunes, and position.]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>I must now tell you what I do next week, that you may know where to +find me. Monday, the king goes to hear "Cinderella," and I have a +holiday and go with my mother to a party at Dr. Granville's. +Tuesday, I act Belvidera, and <i>afterward</i> go to Lady Dacre's; I do +this because, as I fixed the day myself for her party, not +expecting to act that night, I cannot decently get off. Lady +Macdonald's dinner party is put off; so until Saturday, when I play +Beatrice, I shall spend my time in practicing, reading, writing +(<i>not</i> arithmetic), walking, working cross-stitch, and similar +young-ladyisms.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345" ></a><span class="pagenum">[345]</span>Good-by, my dear H——. Give my love to Dorothy, if she will take +it; if not, put it to your own share. I think this letter deserves +a long answer. Mrs. Norton, Chantrey, and Barry Cornwall have come +in while I have been finishing this letter; does not that sound +pretty and pleasant? and don't you envy us some of our +<i>privileges?</i> My mother has been seeing P——'s picture of my +father in Macbeth this morning, and you never heard anything +funnier than her rage at it: "A fat, red, round, staring, <i>pudsy</i> +thing! the eyes no more like his than mine are!" (certainly, no +human eyes could be more dissimilar); "and then, his jaw!—bless my +soul, how could he miss it! the Kemble jawbone! Why, it was as +notorious as Samson's!" Good-by. Your affectionate</p> + +<p class="signature"><span class="smcap">Fanny</span>.</p></div> + +<p>Lady Eleanor Butler and Miss Ponsonby, the famous friends of Llangollen, +kept during the whole life they spent together under such peculiar +circumstances a daily diary, so minute as to include the mention not +only of every one they saw (and it must be remembered that their +hermitage was a place of fashionable pilgrimage, as well as a hospitable +refuge), but also <i>what they had for dinner every day</i>—so I have been +told.</p> + +<p>The little box on the stage I have alluded to in this letter as Mrs. +Siddons's was a small recess opposite the prompter's box, and of much +the same proportions, that my father had fitted up for the especial +convenience of my aunt Siddons whenever she chose to honor my +performances with her presence. She came to it several times, but the +draughts in crossing the stage were bad, and the exertion and excitement +too much for her, and her life was not prolonged much after my coming +upon the stage.</p> + +<p>Lord and Lady Dacre were among my kindest friends. With Lady Dacre I +corresponded from the beginning of our acquaintance until her death, +which took place at a very advanced age. She was strikingly handsome, +with a magnificent figure and great vivacity and charm of manner and +conversation. Her accomplishments were various, and all of so masterly +an excellence that her performances would have borne comparison with the +best works of professional artists. She drew admirably, especially +animals, of which she was extremely fond. I have seen drawings of groups +of cattle by her that, without the advantage of color, recall the life +and spirit of Rosa Bonheur's pictures. She was a perfect Italian +scholar, having studied enthusiastically that divine tongue with the +enthusiast Ugo Foscolo, whose patriotic exile and misfortunes were +cheered and <a name="Page_346" id="Page_346" ></a><span class="pagenum">[346]</span>soothed by the admiring friendship and cordial kindness of +Lord and Lady Dacre. Among all the specimens of translation with which I +am acquainted, her English version of Petrarch's sonnets is one of the +most remarkable for fidelity, beauty, and the grace and sweetness with +which she has achieved the difficult feat of following in English the +precise form of the complicated and peculiar Italian prosody. These +translations seem to me as nearly perfect as that species of literature +can be. But the most striking demonstrations of her genius were the +groups of horses which Lady Dacre modeled from nature, and which, copied +and multiplied in plaster casts, have been long familiar to the public, +without many of those who know and admire them being aware who was their +author. It is hardly possible to see anything more graceful and +spirited, truer at once to nature and the finest art, than these +compositions, faithful in the minutest details of execution, and highly +poetical in their entire conception. Lady Dacre was the finest female +rider and driver in England; that is saying, in the world. Had she lived +in Italy in the sixteenth century her name would be among the noted +names of that great artistic era; but as she was an Englishwoman of the +nineteenth, in spite of her intellectual culture and accomplishments she +was <i>only</i> an exceedingly clever, amiable, kind lady of fashionable +London society.</p> + +<p>Of Lord Dacre it is not easy to speak with all the praise which he +deserved. He inherited his title from his mother, who had married Mr. +Brand of the Hoo, Hertfordshire, and at the moment of his becoming heir +to that estate was on the point of leaving England with Colonel Talbot, +son of Lord Talbot de Malahide, to found with him a colony in British +Canada, where Arcadia was to revive again, at a distance from all the +depraved and degraded social systems of Europe, under the auspices of +these two enthusiastic young reformers. Mr. Brand had completed his +studies in Germany, and acquired, by assiduous reading and intimate +personal acquaintance with the most enlightened and profound thinkers of +the philosophical school of which Kant was the apostle, a mental +cultivation very unlike, in its depth and direction, the usual +intellectual culture of young Englishmen of his class.</p> + +<p>He was an enthusiast of the most generous description, in love with +liberty and ardent for progress; the political as well as the social and +intellectual systems of Europe appeared to him, in his youthful zeal for +the improvement of his fellow-beings, belated if not benighted on the +road to it, and he had <a name="Page_347" id="Page_347" ></a><span class="pagenum">[347]</span>embraced with the most ardent hopes and purposes +the scheme of emigration of Colonel Talbot, for forming in the New World +a colony where all the errors of the Old were to be avoided. But his +mother died, and the young emigrant withdrew his foot from the deck of +the Canadian ship to take his place in the British peerage, to bear an +ancient English title and become master of an old English estate, to +marry a brilliant woman of English fashionable society, and be +thenceforth the ideal of an English country gentleman, that most +enviable of mortals, as far as outward circumstance and position can +make a man so.</p> + +<p>His serious early German studies had elevated and enlarged his mind far +beyond the usual level and scope of the English country gentleman's +brain, and freed him from the peculiarly narrow class prejudices which +it harbors. He was an enlightened liberal, not only in politics but in +every domain of human thought; he was a great reader, with a wide range +of foreign as well as English literary knowledge. He had exquisite +taste, was a fine connoisseur and critic in matters of art, and was the +kindliest natured and mannered man alive.</p> + +<p>At his house in Hertfordshire, the Hoo, I used to meet Earl Grey; his +son, the present earl (then Lord Howick); Lord Melbourne; the Duke of +Bedford; Earl Russell (then Lord John), and Sidney and Bobus Smith—all +of them distinguished men, but few of them, I think, Lord Dacre's +superiors in mental power. Altogether the society that he and Lady Dacre +gathered round them was as delightful as it was intellectually +remarkable; it was composed of persons eminent for ability, and +influential members of a great world in which extraordinary capacity was +never an excuse for want of urbanity or the absence of the desire to +please; their intercourse was charming as well as profoundly interesting +to me.</p> + +<p>During a conversation I once had with Lady Dacre about her husband, she +gave me the following extract from the writings of Madame Huber, the +celebrated Therëse Heyne, whose first husband, Johann Georg Forster, was +one of the delegates which sympathizing Mentz sent to Paris in 1793, to +solicit from the revolutionary government the favor of annexation to the +French republic.</p> + +<p>"In the year 1790 Forster had attached to himself and introduced in his +establishment a young Englishman, who came to Germany with the view of +studying the German philosophy [Kant's system] in its original language. +He was nearly connected with some of the leaders of the then opposition. +He was so noble, so simple, that each virtue seemed in him an in<a name="Page_348" id="Page_348" ></a><span class="pagenum">[348]</span>stinct, +and so stoical in his views that he considered every noble action as the +victory of self-control, and never felt himself good enough. The friends +[Huber and Forster] who loved him with parental tenderness sometimes +repeated with reference to him the words of Shakespeare—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'So wise, so young, they say, do ne'er live long.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But, thanks to fate, he has falsified that prophecy; the youth is grown +into manhood; he lives, unclaimed by any mere political party, with the +more valuable portion of his people, and satisfies himself with being a +good man so long as circumstances prevent him from acting in his sense +as a good citizen. Our daily intercourse with this youth enabled us to +combine a knowledge of English events with our participation in the +proceedings on the Continent. His patriotism moderated many of our +extreme views with regard to his country; his estimate of many +individuals, of whom from his position he possessed accurate knowledge, +decided many a disputed point amongst us; and the tenderness which we +all felt for this beloved and valued friend tended to produce justice +and moderation in all our conflicts of opinion."<a name="FNanchor_A_1" +id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" +class="fnanchor">[A]</a></p> + +<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Sketch of Lord Dacre's character by Madame Huber.</p> + +<p>Lady Dacre had had by her first marriage, to Mr. Wilmot, an only child, +the Mrs. Sullivan I have mentioned in this letter, wife of the Reverend +Frederick Sullivan, Vicar of Kimpton. She was an excellent and most +agreeable person, who inherited her mother's literary and artistic +genius in a remarkable degree, though her different position and less +leisurely circumstances as wife of a country clergyman and mother of a +large family, devoted to the important duties of both callings, probably +prevented the full development and manifestation of her fine +intellectual gifts. She was a singularly modest and diffident person, +and this as well as her more serious avocations may have stood in the +way of her doing justice to her uncommon abilities, of which, however, +there is abundant evidence in her drawings and groups of modeled +figures, and in the five volumes of charming stories called "Tales of a +Chaperon," and "Tales of the Peerage and the Peasantry," which were not +published with her name but simply as edited by Lady Dacre, to whom +their authorship was, I think, generally attributed. The mental gifts of +Lady Dacre appear to be heirlooms, for they have been inherited for +three generations, and in each case by her female descendants.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349" ></a><span class="pagenum">[349]</span>The gentleman who accompanied her to her house, on the evening I +referred to in my letter, was the Honorable James Stuart Wortley, +youngest son of the Earl of Wharncliffe, who was prevented by failure of +health alone from reaching the very highest honors of the legal +profession, in which he had already attained the rank of +solicitor-general, when his career was prematurely closed by disastrous +illness. At the time of my first acquaintance with him he was a very +clever and attractive young man, and though intended for a future Lord +Chancellor he condescended to sing sentimental songs very charmingly.</p> + +<p>Of my excellent and amiable friend, the Reverend William Harness, a +biography has been published which tells all there is to be told of his +uneventful life and career. Endowed with a handsome face and sweet +countenance and very fine voice, he was at one time a fashionable London +preacher, a vocation not incompatible, when he exercised it, with a +great admiration for the drama. He was an enthusiastic frequenter of the +theater, published a valuable edition of Shakespeare, and wrote two +plays in blank verse which had considerable merit; but his pre-eminent +gift was goodness, in which I have known few people who surpassed him. +Objecting from conscientious motives to hold more than one living, he +received from his friend, Lord Lansdowne, an appointment in the Home +Office, the duties of which did not interfere with those of his clerical +profession. He was of a delightfully sunny, cheerful temper, and very +fond of society, mixing in the best that London afforded, and frequently +receiving with cordial hospitality some of its most distinguished +members in his small, modest residence. He was a devoted friend of my +family, had an ardent admiration for my aunt Siddons, and honored me +with a kind and constant regard.</p> + +<p>Miss Joanna Baillie was a great friend of Mrs. Siddons's, and wrote +expressly for her the part of Jane de Montfort, in her play of "De +Montfort." My father and mother had the honor of her acquaintance, and I +went more than once to pay my respects to her at the cottage in +Hampstead where she passed the last years of her life.</p> + +<p>The peculiar plan upon which she wrote her fine plays, making each of +them illustrate a single passion, was in great measure the cause of +their unfitness for the stage. "De Montfort," which has always been +considered the most dramatic of them, had only a very partial success, +in spite of its very great poetical merit and considerable power of +passion, and the favorable circumstance that the two principal +characters in it were rep<a name="Page_350" id="Page_350" ></a><span class="pagenum">[350]</span>resented by the eminent actors for whom the +authoress originally designed them. In fact, though Joanna Baillie +selected and preferred the dramatic form for her poetical compositions, +they are wanting in the real dramatic element, resemblance to life and +human nature, and are infinitely finer as poems than plays.</p> + +<p>But the desire and ambition of her life had been to write for the stage, +and the reputation she achieved as a poet did not reconcile her to her +failure as a dramatist. I remember old Mr. Sotheby, the poet (I add this +title to his name, though his title to it was by some esteemed but +slender), telling me of a visit he had once paid her, when, calling him +into her little kitchen (she was not rich, kept few servants, and did +not disdain sometimes to make her own pies and puddings), she bade him, +as she was up to the elbows in flour and paste, draw from her pocket a +paper; it was a play-bill, sent to her by some friend in the country, +setting forth that some obscure provincial company was about to perform +Miss Joanna Baillie's celebrated tragedy of "De Montfort." "There," +exclaimed the culinary Melpomene, "there, Sotheby, I am so happy! You +see my plays can be acted somewhere!" Well, too, do I remember the tone +of half-regretful congratulation in which she said to me, "Oh, you lucky +girl—you lucky girl; you are going to have your play acted!" This was +"Francis I.," the production of which on the stage was a bitter +annoyance to me, to prevent which I would have given anything I +possessed, but which made me (vexed and unhappy though I was at the +circumstance on which I was being congratulated) an object of positive +envy to the distinguished authoress and kind old lady.</p> + +<p>In order to steer clear of the passion of revenge, which is in fact +hatred proceeding from a sense of injury, Miss Joanna Baillie in her +fine tragedy of "De Montfort" has inevitably made the subject of it an +<i>antipathy</i>—that is, an instinctive, unreasoning, partly physical +antagonism, producing abhorrence and detestation the most intense, +without any adequate motive; and the secret of the failure of her noble +play on the stage is precisely that this is not (fortunately) a natural +passion common to the majority of human beings (which hatred that <i>has</i> +a motive undoubtedly is, in a greater or less degree), but an abnormal +element in exceptionally morbid natures, and therefore a sentiment (or +sensation) with which no great number of people or large proportion of a +public audience can sympathize or even understand. Intense and causeless +hatred is one of the commonest indications of insanity, and, alas! one +that too <a name="Page_351" id="Page_351" ></a><span class="pagenum">[351]</span>often exhibits itself toward those who have been objects of the +tenderest love; but De Montfort is not insane, and his loathing is +unaccountable to healthy minds upon any other plea, and can find no +comprehension in audiences quite prepared to understand, if not to +sympathize with, the vindictive malignity of Shylock and the savage +ferocity of Zanga. Goethe, in his grand play of "Tasso," gives the poet +this morbid detestation of the accomplished courtier and man of the +world, Antonio; but then, Tasso is represented as on the very verge of +that madness into the dark abyss of which he subsequently sinks.</p> + +<p>Shakespeare's treatment of the passion of hatred, in "The Merchant of +Venice," is worthy of all admiration for the profound insight with which +he has discriminated between that form of it which all men comprehend, +and can sympathize with, and that which, being really nothing but +diseased idiosyncrasy, appears to the majority of healthy minds a mere +form of madness.</p> + +<p>In his first introduction to us the Jew accounts for his detestation of +Antonio upon three very comprehensible grounds: national race hatred, in +feeling and exciting which the Jews have been quite a "peculiar people" +from the earliest records of history; personal injury in the defeat of +his usurious prospects of gain; and personal insult in the unmanly +treatment to which Antonio had subjected him. However excessive in +degree, his hatred is undoubtedly shown to have a perfectly +comprehensible, if not adequate cause and nature, and is a <i>reasonable</i> +hatred, except from such a moral point of view as allows of none.</p> + +<p>An audience can therefore tolerate him with mitigated disgust through +the opening portions of the play. When, however, in the grand climax of +the trial scene Shakespeare intends that he shall be no longer tolerated +or tolerable, but condemned alike by his Venetian judges and his English +audience, he carefully avoids putting into his mouth any one of the +reasons with which in the opening of the play he explains and justifies +his hatred. He does not make him quote the centuries-old Hebrew scorn of +and aversion to the Gentiles, nor the merchant's interference with his +commercial speculations, nor the man's unprovoked spitting at, spurning, +and abuse of him; but he will and <i>can</i> give <i>no</i> reason for his +abhorrence of Antonio, whom he says he <i>loathes</i> with the inexplicable +revulsion of nature that certain men feel toward certain animals; and +the mastery of the poet shows itself in thus making Shylock's <a name="Page_352" id="Page_352" ></a><span class="pagenum">[352]</span>cruelty +monstrous, and accounting for it as an abnormal monstrosity.</p> + +<p>Hatred that has a reasonable cause may cease with its removal. Supposing +Antonio to have become a converted Jew, or to have withdrawn all +opposition to Shylock's usury and compensated him largely for the losses +he had caused him by it, and to have expressed publicly, with the utmost +humility, contrition for his former insults and sincere promises of +future honor, respect, and reverence, it is possible to imagine Shylock +relenting in a hatred of which the reasons he assigned for it no longer +existed. But from the moment he says he has <i>no</i> reason for his hatred +other than the insuperable disgust and innate enmity of an antagonistic +nature—the deadly, sickening, physical loathing that in rare instances +affects certain human beings toward others of their species, and toward +certain animals—then there are no calculable bounds to the ferocity of +such a blind instinct, no possibility of mitigating, by considerations +of reflection or feeling, an inherent, integral element of a morbid +organization. And Shakespeare, in giving this aspect to the last +exhibition of Shylock's vindictiveness, cancels the original appeal to +possible sympathy for his previous wrongs, and presents him as a +dangerous maniac or wild beast, from whose fury no one is safe, and whom +it is every one's interest to strike down; so that at the miserable +Jew's final defeat the whole audience gasps with a sense of unspeakable +relief. Perhaps, too, the master meant to show—at any rate he has +shown—that the deadly sin of hatred, indulged even with a cause, ends +in the dire disease of causeless hate and the rabid frenzy of a maniac.</p> + +<p>It has sometimes been objected to this wonderful scene that Portia's +reticence and delay in relieving Antonio and her husband from their +suspense is unnatural. But Portia is a very <i>superior woman</i>, able to +control not only her own palpitating sympathy with their anguish, but +her impatient yearning to put an end to it, till she has made ever +effort to redeem the wretch whose hardness of heart fills her with +incredulous amazement—a heavenly instinct akin to the divine love that +desires not that a sinner should perish, which enables her to postpone +her own relief and that of those precious to her till she has exhausted +endeavor to soften Shylock; and Shakespeare thus not only justifies the +stern severity of her ultimate sentence on him, but shows her endowed +with the highest powers of self-command, and patient, long-suffering +with evil; her teasing her husband half to death afterward restores the +balance of her humanity, which was sinking heavily toward perfection.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353" ></a><span class="pagenum">[353]</span>Bryan Waller Procter, dear Barry Cornwall—beloved by all who knew him, +even his fellow-poets, for his sweet, gentle disposition—had married +(as I have said elsewhere) Anne Skepper, the daughter of our friend, +Mrs. Basil Montague. They were among our most intimate and friendly +acquaintance. Their house was the resort of all the choice spirits of +the London society of their day, her pungent epigrams and brilliant +sallies making the most delightful contrast imaginable to the cordial +kindness of his conversation and the affectionate tenderness of his +manner; she was like a fresh lemon—golden, fragrant, firm, and +wholesome—and he was like the honey of Hymettus; they were an +incomparable compound.</p> + +<p>The play which I spoke of as his, in my last letter, was Ford's "White +Devil," of which the notorious Vittoria Corrombona, Duchess of +Bracciano, is the heroine. The powerful but coarse treatment of the +Italian story by the Elizabethan playwright has been chastened into +something more adapted to modern taste by Barry Cornwall; but, even with +his kindred power and skillful handling, the work of the early master +retained too rough a flavor for the public palate of our day, and very +reluctantly the project of bringing it out was abandoned.</p> + +<p>The tragical story of Vittoria Corrombona, eminently tragical in that +age of dramatic lives and deaths, has furnished not only the subject of +this fine play of Ford's, but that of a magnificent historical novel, by +the great German writer, Tieck, in which it is difficult to say which +predominates, the intense interest of the heroine's individual career, +or that created by the splendid delineation of the whole state of Italy +at that period—the days of the grand old Sixtus the Fifth in Rome, and +of the contemporary Medici in Florence; it is altogether a masterpiece +by a great master. Superior in tragic horror, because unrelieved by the +general picture of contemporaneous events, but quite inferior as a work +of imagination, is the comparatively short sketch of Vittoria +Corrombona's life and death contained in a collection of Italian stories +called "Crimes Célèbres," by Stendal, where it keeps company with other +tragedies of private life, which during the same century occupied with +their atrocious details the tribunals of justice in Rome. Among the +collection is the story from which Mr. Fechter's melodrama of "Bel +Demonio" was taken, the story of the Cenci, and the story of a certain +Duchess of Pagliano, all of them inconceivably horrible and revolting.</p> + +<p>About the same time that this play of Barry Cornwall's was given up, a +long negotiation between Miss Mitford and the <a name="Page_354" id="Page_354" ></a><span class="pagenum">[354]</span>management of Covent +Garden came to a conclusion by her withdrawal of her play of "Iñez de +Castro," a tragedy founded upon one of the most romantic and picturesque +incidents in the Spanish chronicle. After much uncertainty and many +difficulties, the project of bringing it out was abandoned. I remember +thinking I could do nothing with the part of the heroine, whose corpse +is produced in the last act, seated on the throne and receiving the +homage of the subjects of her husband, Pedro the Cruel—a very ghastly +incident in the story, which I think would in itself have endangered the +success of the play. My despondency about the part of Inez had nothing +to do with the possible effect of this situation, however, but was my +invariable impression with regard to every new part that was assigned to +me on first reading it. But I am sure Miss Mitford had no cause to +regret that I had not undertaken this; the success of her play in my +hands ran a risk such as her fine play of "Rienzi," in those of Mr. +Young or Mr. Macready, could never have incurred; and it was well for +her that to their delineation of her Roman tribune, and not mine of her +Aragonese lady, her reputation with the public as a dramatic writer was +confided.</p> + +<p>I have mentioned in this last letter a morning visit from Chantrey, the +eminent sculptor, who was among our frequenter. His appearance and +manners were simple and almost rustic, and he was shy and silent in +society, all which may have been results of his obscure birth and early +want of education. It was to Sir Francis Chantrey that my father's +friends applied for the design of the beautiful silver vase which they +presented to him at the end of his professional career. The sculptor's +idea seemed to me a very happy and appropriate one, and the design was +admirably executed; it consisted of a simple and elegant figure of +Hamlet on the cover of the vase, and round it, in fine relief, the +"Seven Ages of Man," from Jacques's speech in "As You Like It;" the +whole work was very beautiful, and has a double interest for me, as that +not only of an eminent artist, but a kind friend of my father's.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, March 7, 1831.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>With regard to change as we contemplate it when parting from those +we love, I confess I should shrink from the idea of years +intervening before you and I met again; not that I apprehend any +diminution of our affection, but it would be painful to be no +longer young, or to have grown <i>suddenly</i> old to each other. But I +hope this will not be so; I hope we may go <a name="Page_355" id="Page_355" ></a><span class="pagenum">[355]</span>on meeting often enough +for that change which is inevitable to be long imperceptible; I +hope we may be allowed to go on <i>wondering</i> together, till we meet +where you will certainly be happy, if wonder is for once joined to +<i>knowledge</i>. I remember my aunt Whitelock saying that when she went +to America she left my father a toddling thing that she used to +dandle and carry about; and the first time she saw him after her +return, he had a baby of his own in his arms. That sort of thing +makes one's heart jump into one's mouth with dismay; it seems as if +all the time one had been <i>living away</i>, unconsciously, was thrown +in a lump at one's head.</p> + +<p>J—— F—— told me on Thursday that her sister, whose wedding-day +seemed to be about yesterday, was the mother of four children; she +has lost no time, it is true, but my "yesterday" must be five years +old. After dinner, yesterday, I wrote a new last scene to "Francis +I." I mean to send it to Murray.</p> + +<p>A—— says you seem younger to her than I do; which, considering +your fourteen years' seniority over me, is curious; but the truth +is, though she does not know it, I am still <i>too young</i>; I have not +lived, experienced, and suffered enough to have acquired the +self-forgetfulness and gentle forbearance that make us good and +pleasant companions to our <i>youngers</i>.</p> + +<p>Henry and I are going together to the Zoological Gardens one of +these days; that lovely tigress hangs about my heart, and I must go +and see her again. Ever your affectionate</p> + +<p class="signature"><span class="smcap">F. A. Kemble.</span></p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, March 9, 1831.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dear H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>Why are you not here to kiss and congratulate me? I am so proud and +happy! Mr. Murray has given me four hundred and fifty pounds for my +play alone! the other things he does not wish to publish with it. +Only think of it—was there ever such publishing munificence! My +father has the face to say <i>it is not enough!</i> but looks so proud +and pleased that his face alone shows it is <i>too much</i> by a great +deal; my mother is enchanted, and I am so happy, so thankful for +this prosperous result of my work, so delighted at earning so much, +so surprised and charmed to think that what gave me nothing but +pleasure in the doing has brought me such an after-harvest of +profit; it is too good almost to be true, and yet it is true.</p> + +<p>But I am happy and have been much excited from another reason +to-day. Richard Trench, John's dear friend and com<a name="Page_356" id="Page_356" ></a><span class="pagenum">[356]</span>panion, is just +returned from Spain, and came here this morning to see us. I sat +with him a long while. John is well and in good spirits. Mr. Trench +before leaving Gibraltar had used every persuasion to induce my +brother to return with him, and had even got him on board the +vessel in which they were to sail, but John's heart failed him at +the thought of forsaking Torrijos, and he went back. The account +Mr. Trench gives of their proceedings is much as I imagined them to +have been. They hired a house which they denominated Constitution +Hall, where they passed their time smoking and drinking ale, John +holding forth upon German metaphysics, which grew dense in +proportion as the tobacco fumes grew thick and his glass grew +empty. You know we had an alarm about their being taken prisoners, +which story originated thus: they had agreed with the +constitutionalists in Algeciras that on a certain day the latter +were to <i>get rid</i> of their officers (murder them civilly, I +suppose), and then light beacons on the heights, at which signal +Torrijos and his companions, among them our party who were lying +armed on board a schooner in the bay, were to make good their +landing. The English authorities at Gibraltar, however, had note of +this, and while they lay watching for the signal they were boarded +by one of the Government ships and taken prisoners. The number of +English soldiers in whose custody they found themselves being, +however, inferior to their own, they agreed that if the beacons +made their appearance they would turn upon their guards and either +imprison or kill them. But the beacons were never lighted; their +Spanish fellow-revolutionists broke faith with them, and they +remained ingloriously on board until next day, when they were +ignominiously suffered to go quietly on shore again.</p></div> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="dateline"><span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, March 8, 1831.</p> + +<p>I am going to be very busy signing my name; my benefit is fixed for +the 21st; I do not yet know what the play is to be. Our young, +unsuccessful playwright, Mr. Wade, whom I like very much (he took +his damnation as bravely as Capaneo), and Macdonald, the sculptor, +dined with us on Sunday. On Monday I went to the library of the +British Museum to consult Du Bellay's history for my new version of +the last scene of "Fran<a name="Page_357" id="Page_357" ></a><span class="pagenum">[357]</span>cis I." I looked at some delightful books, +and among others, a very old and fine MS. of the "Roman de la +Rose," beautifully illuminated; also all the armorial bearings, +shields, banners, etc., of the barons of King John's time, the +barons of Runnymede and the Charter, most exquisitely and minutely +copied from monuments, stained glass, brass effigies, etc.; it was +a fine work, beautifully executed for the late king, George IV. I +wish it had been executed for me. I did get A—— to walk in the +square with me once, but she likes it even less than I do; my +intellectual conversation is no equivalent for the shop-windows of +Regent Street and the counters of the bazaar, and she has gone out +with my aunt every day since, "leaving the square to solitude and +me;" so I take my book with me (I can read walking at my quickest +pace), and like to do so.</p> + +<p>Tuesday evening I played Belvidera. I was quite nervous at acting +it again after so long a period. After the play my father and I +went to Lady Dacre's and had a pleasant party enough. Mrs. Norton +was there, more entertaining and blinding beautiful than ever. +Henry desired me to give her his "desperate love," to which she +replied by sending the poor youth her "deadly scorn." Lord +Melbourne desired to be introduced to me, and I think if he likes, +he shall be the decrepit old nobleman you are so afraid of me +marrying. I was charmed with his face, voice, and manner; we dine +with him next Wednesday week, and I will write you word if the +impression deepens.</p> + +<p>My dear H——, only imagine my dismay; my father told me that after +Easter I should have to play Lady Macbeth! It is no use thinking +about it, for that only frightens me more; but, looking at it as +calmly and reasonably as possible, surely it is too great an +undertaking for so young a person as myself. Perhaps I may play it +better than most girls of my age would; what will that amount to? +That towering, tremendous woman, what a trial of courage and +composure for me! If you were a good friend, now, you would come up +to town "for that occasion only," and sustain me with your +presence.</p> + +<p>The beautiful Miss Bayley is at length married to William Ashley +[the present Earl of Shaftesbury], and everybody is rejoicing with +them or for them; it is pleasant to catch glimpses of fresh shade +and flowers as one goes along the dusty highroad of life.</p> + +<p>I must now tell you what I am going to do, that you may know where +to find me: to-morrow, I go to a private morning concert with my +mother; in the evening, I act Beatrice, and after the play all +sorts of people are coming here to supper. <a name="Page_358" id="Page_358" ></a><span class="pagenum">[358]</span>On Monday, I act Fazio; +Wednesday, we dine at Lady Macdonald's; Thursday, I act Mrs. +Haller; and Saturday, Beatrice again. I have not an idea what will +be done for my benefit; we are all devising and proposing. I myself +want them to bring out Massinger's "Maid of Honor;" I think it +beautiful.</p> + +<p>Now, dear H——, I must leave off, and sign my tickets. We all send +our loves to you: my mother tells me not to let you forget her; she +says she is afraid you class her with Mrs. John Kemble. If ever +there were two dissimilar human beings, it is those two. Ever your +affectionate</p> + +<p class="signature"><span class="smcap">Fanny</span>.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, March 13, 1831.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dear H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I received your letter yesterday, and must exult in my +self-command, for Mrs. Jameson was with me, and I did not touch it +till she was gone. Thank you first of all for Spenser; that <i>is</i> +poetry! I was much benefited as well as delighted by it. +Considering the power of poetry to raise one's mind and soul into +the noblest moods, I do not think it is held in sufficient +reverence nowadays; the bards of old were greater people in their +society than our modern ones are; to be sure, modern poetry is not +all of a purely elevating character, and poets are <i>paid</i>, besides +being asked out to dinner, which the bards always were. I think the +tone of a good deal of Campbell's "Pleasures of Hope" very noble, +and some of Mrs. Hemans's things are very beautiful in sentiment as +well as expression. But then, all that order of writing is so +feeble compared with the poetry of our old masters, who do not so +much appeal to our feelings as to our reason and imagination +combined. I do not believe that to be sublime is in the power of a +woman, any more than to be logical; and Mrs. Hemans, who is +neither, writes charmingly, and one loves her as a Christian woman +even more than one admires her as a writer.</p> + +<p>Yes, it is very charming that the dove, the favorite type of +gentleness and tenderness and "harmlessness," should have such a +swift and vigorous power of flight; <i>suaviter—fortiter</i>, a good +combination.</p> + +<p>We are having the most tempestuous weather; A—— is horribly +frightened, and I am rather awed. I got the encyclopædia to-night +to study the cause of the equinoctial gales, which I thought we +should both be the better for knowing, but could find nothing about +them; can you tell me of any book or treatise upon this subject?</p> + +<p><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359" ></a><span class="pagenum">[359]</span>My dear H——, shut your eyes while you read this, because if you +don't, they'll never shut again. Constance is what I am to play for +my benefit. I am horribly frightened; it is a cruel weight to lay +upon my shoulders: however, there is nothing for it but doing my +best, and leaving the rest to fate. I almost think now I could do +Lady Macbeth better. I am like poor little Arthur, who begged to +have his tongue cut off rather than have his eyes put out; that +last scene of Constance—think what an actress one should be to do +it justice! Pray for me.</p> + +<p>And so the Poles are crushed! what a piteous horror! Will there +never come a day of retribution for this!</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jameson came and sat with me some time yesterday evening, and +read me a good deal of her work on Shakespeare's female characters; +they are very pleasing sketches—outlines—but her criticism and +analysis are rather graceful than profound or powerful. Tuesday +next my mother and I spend the evening with her; Wednesday, we dine +at Sir John Macdonald's; Thursday, I act Mrs. Haller; Friday, we +have an evening party at home; Saturday, I play Beatrice; Monday, +Constance (come up for it!); Tuesday, we dine with Lord Melbourne; +and this is as much of the book of fate as is unrolled to me at +present.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Harry came here to-day; it is the first time I have seen her +this month; she is looking wretchedly, and talks of returning to +Edinburgh. My first feeling at hearing this was joy that I shall +not go there and find the face and voice for ever associated with +Edinburgh in my heart away from it. But I am not really glad, for +it is the failure of some plan of hers which obliges her to do +this. I have the loves of all to give you, and they are all very +troublesome, crying, "Give mine separately," "Don't lump mine;" so +please take them each separately and singly. I have been sobbing my +heart out over Constance this morning, and act Fazio to-night, +which is hard work.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Your affectionate</p><p class="signature"> +F. +</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, Saturday, March 19th.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dear H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>You ask if Mr. Trench's account of their Spanish escapade is likely +to soften my father's view of the folly of the expedition. I think +not, by any means—as how should it? But the yesterday papers +reported a successful attack upon Cadiz and the proclamation of +Torrijos general-in-chief by the Constitutionalists, who were +rising all over the country. This <a name="Page_360" id="Page_360" ></a><span class="pagenum">[360]</span>has been again contradicted +to-day, and may have been a mere stock-jobbing story, after all. If +it be true, however, the results may be of serious importance to my +brother. Should the Constitutionalists get the upper hand, his +adherence to Torrijos may place him in a prominent position, I am +afraid; perhaps, however, though success may not alter my father's +opinion of the original folly of John's undertaking, it may in some +measure reconcile him to it. I suppose it is not impossible now +that John should become an officer in the Spanish army, and that +after so many various and contradictory plans his career may +finally be that of a soldier. How strange and sad it all seems to +me, to be sure!</p> + +<p>You say it's a horrid thing one can't "try on one's body" and +choose such a one as would suit one; but do you consider your body +accidental, as it were, or do you really think we could do better +for ourselves than has been done for us in this matter? After all, +our souls get used to our bodies, and in some fashion alter and +shape them to fit; then you know if we had different bodies we +should be different people and not our <i>same selves</i> at all; if I +had been tall, as I confess I in my heart of hearts wish I were, +what another moral creature should I have been.</p> + +<p>You urge me to work, dear H——, and study my profession, and were +I to say I hate it, you would retort, "You do it, therefore take +pains to do it well." And so I do, as well as I can; I have been +studying Constance with my father, and rubbed off some of the rough +edges of it a little.</p> + +<p>I am sorry to say I shall not have a good benefit; unluckily, the +second reading of the Reform Bill comes on to-morrow (to-night, by +the bye, for it is Monday), and there will be as many people in the +House of Commons as in <i>my</i> house, and many more in Parliament +Street than in either; it is unfortunate for me, but cannot be +helped. I was going to say, pray for me, but I forgot that you will +not get this till "it is bedtime, Hal, and all is well." The +publication of my play is not to take place till after this Reform +fever has a little abated.</p> + +<p>Dear H——, this is Wednesday, the 23rd; Monday and King John and +my Constance are all over; but I am at this moment still so <i>deaf +with nervousness</i> as not to hear the ticking of my watch when held +to one of my ears; the other side of my head is not deaf any longer +<i>now</i>; but on Monday night I hardly heard one word I uttered +through the whole play. It is rather hard that having endeavored +(and succeeded wonderfully, too) in possessing my soul in peace +during that trial of <a name="Page_361" id="Page_361" ></a><span class="pagenum">[361]</span>my courage, my nervous system should give way +in this fashion. I had a knife of pain sticking in my side all +through the play and all day long, Monday; as I did not hear myself +speak, I cannot tell you anything of my performance. My dress was +of the finest pale-blue merino, all folds and drapery like my +Grecian Daughter costume, with an immense crimson mantle hung on my +shoulders which I could hardly carry. My head-dress was exactly +copied from one of my aunt's, and you cannot imagine how curiously +like her I looked. My mother says, "You have done it better than I +believe any other girl of your age would do it." But of course that +is not a representation of Constance to satisfy her, or any one +else, indeed. You know, dear H——, what my own feeling has been +about this, and how utterly incapable I knew myself for such an +undertaking; but you did not, nor could any one, know how +dreadfully I suffered from the apprehension of failure which my +reason told me was well founded. I assure you that when I came on +the stage I felt like some hunted creature driven to bay; I was +really half wild with terror. The play went off admirably, but I +lay, when my part was over, for an hour on my dressing-room floor, +with only strength enough left to cry. Your letter to A—— revived +me, and just brought me enough to life again to eat my supper, +which I had not felt able to touch, in spite of my exhaustion and +great need of it; when, however, I once began, my appetite +justified the French proverb and took the turn of voracity, and I +devoured like a Homeric hero. I promised to tell you something of +our late dinner at Lord Melbourne's, but have left myself neither +space nor time. It was very pleasant, and I fell out of my love for +our host (who, moreover, is absorbed by Mrs. Norton) and into +another love with Lord O——, Lord T——'s son, who is one of the +most beautiful creatures of the male sex I ever saw; unluckily, he +does not fulfill the necessary conditions of your theory, and is +neither as old nor as decrepit as you have settled the nobleman I +am to marry is to be; so he won't do.</p> + +<p>We are going to a party at Devonshire House to-night. Here I am +called away to receive some visitors. Pray write soon to your +affectionate</p> + +<p class="signature"><span class="smcap">Fanny</span>.</p> + +<p>To-morrow I act Constance, and Saturday Isabella, which is all I +know for the present of the future. I have just bought A—— a +beautiful guitar; I promised her one as soon as my play was out. My +room is delicious with violets, and my new <a name="Page_362" id="Page_362" ></a><span class="pagenum">[362]</span>blue velvet gown +heavenly in color and all other respects except the—well, +<i>un</i>heavenly price Dévy makes me pay for it.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, April 2, 1831.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dear H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I am truly sorry for M——'s illness, just at the height of all her +gay season gayeties, too; it is too provoking to have one's tackle +out of order and lie on the beach with such a summer sea sparkling +before one. I congratulate L—— on her father's relenting and +canceling his edict against waltzing and galloping. And yet, I am +always <i>rather</i> sorry when a determination of that sort, firmly +expressed, is departed from. Of course our views and opinions, not +being infallible, are liable to change, and may not unreasonably be +altered or weakened by circumstances and the more enlightened +convictions of improved powers and enlarged experience, but it is +as well, therefore, for our own sakes, not to promulgate them as if +they were Persian decrees. One can step gracefully down from a +lesser height, where one would fall from a greater. But with young +people generally, I think, to retreat from a position you have +assumed is to run the risk of losing some of their consideration +and respect; for they have neither consciousness of their own +frailty, nor charity for the frailty of others, nor the wisdom to +perceive that a resolution may be better broken than kept; and +though perhaps themselves gaining some desired end by the yielding +of their elders, I believe any indulgence so granted (that is, +after being emphatically denied) never fails to leave on the +youthful mind an impression of want of judgment or determination in +those they have to do with.</p> + +<p>We dine with the Fitzhughs on Tuesday week; I like Emily much, +though she will talk of human souls as "vile;" I gave her Channing +to read, and she liked it very much, but said that his view of +man's nature was not that of a Christian; I think her contempt for +it still less such. As we are immortal in spite of death, so I +think we are wonderful in spite of our weakness, and admirable in +spite of our imperfection, and capable of all good in spite of all +our evil.</p> + +<p>A——'s guitar is a beauty, and wears a broad blue scarf and has a +sweet, low, soft voice. Mr. Pickersgill is going to paint my +portrait; it is a present Major Dawkins makes my father and mother, +but I do wish they would leave off trying to take my picture. My +face is too bad for anything but nature, and never was intended for +<i>still</i> life. The intention, however, is <a name="Page_363" id="Page_363" ></a><span class="pagenum">[363]</span>very kind, and the offer +one that can scarcely be refused. I wish you would come and keep me +awake through my sittings.</p> + +<p>Our engagements—social and professional—are a dinner party at the +Mayows to-morrow; an evening party on Monday; Tuesday, the opera; +Wednesday I act Isabella; Thursday, a dinner at Mr. Harness's; +Friday I act Bianca; Saturday we have a dinner party at home; the +Monday following I act Constance; Tuesday there is a dance at the +Fitzhughs'; and sundry dissipations looming in the horizon.</p> + +<p>Good-by, and God bless you, my dear H——. I look forward to our +meeting at Ardgillan, three months hence, with delight, and am +affectionately yours,</p> + +<p class="signature">F. A. K.</p> + +<p>A—— and I begin our riding lessons on Wednesday next. We have got +pretty dark-brown habits and red velvet waistcoats, and shall look +like two nice little robin-redbreasts on horseback; all I dread is +that she may be frightened to death, which might militate against +her enjoyment, perhaps.</p> + +<p>What you say about my brother John is very true; and though my +first care is for his life, my next is for his happiness, which I +believe more likely to be secured by his remaining in the midst of +action and excitement abroad, than in any steady pursuit at home. +My benefit was not as good as it ought to have been; it was not +sufficiently advertised, and it took place on the night of the +reading of the Reform Bill, which circumstance was exceedingly +injurious to it.</p> + +<p>To-day is John's birthday. I was in hopes it might not occur to my +mother, but she alluded to it yesterday. I was looking at that +little sketch of him in her room this morning, with a heavy heart. +His lot seems now cast indeed, and most strangely. I would give +anything to see him and hear his voice again, but I fear to wish +him back again among us. I am afraid that he would neither be happy +himself, nor make others so.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"><span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, 1831.</p> + +<p>It is a long time, dear H——, since I have written to you, and I +feel it so with self-reproach. To-day, except paying a round of +visits with my mother and acting this evening, I have nothing to +prevent my talking with you in tolerable peace and quiet—so here I +am. You have no idea what a quantity of "things to be done" has +been crowded into the last fortnight: studying Camiola, rehearsing +for two hours and a half every <a name="Page_364" id="Page_364" ></a><span class="pagenum">[364]</span>other day, riding for two hours at a +time, and sitting for my picture nearly as long, running from place +to place about my dresses, and now having Lady Teazle and Mrs. +Oakley to <i>get up</i>, immediately,—all this, with my nightly work or +nightly gayeties, makes an amount of occupation of one sort and +another that hardly leaves me time for thought.</p> + +<p>You will be glad to hear that "The Maid of Honor" was entirely +successful; that it will have a "great run," or bring much money to +the theater, I doubt. It is a <i>cold</i> play, according to the present +taste of audiences, and there are undoubted defects in its +construction which in the fastidious judgment of our critics weigh +down its sterling beauties.</p> + +<p>It has done me great service, and to you I may say that I think it +the best thing I have acted. Indeed, I like my own performance of +it so well (which you know does not often happen to me), that I beg +you will make A—— tell you something about it. I was beautifully +dressed and looked very nice.</p> + +<p>We have heard nothing of John for some time now, and my mother has +ceased to express, if not to feel, anxiety about him, and seems +tranquil at present; but after all she has suffered on his account, +it is not, perhaps, surprising that she should subside into the +calm of mere exhaustion from that cruel over-excitement.</p> + +<p>Our appeal before the Lords, after having been put off once this +week, will, in consequence of the threatened dissolution of +Parliament, be deferred <i>sine die</i>, as the phrase is. Oh, what +weary work this is for those who are tremblingly waiting for a +result of vital importance to their whole fate and fortune! Thank +Heaven, I am liberally endowed with youth's peculiar power and +privilege of disregarding future sorrow, and unless under the +immediate pressure of calamity can keep the anticipation of it at +bay. My journal has become a mere catalogue of the names of people +I meet and places I go to. I have had no time latterly for anything +but the briefest possible registry of my daily doings. Mrs. Harry +Siddons has taken a lodging in this street, nearly opposite to us, +so that I have the happiness of seeing her rather oftener than I +have been able to do hitherto; the girls come over, too; and as we +have lately taken to acting charades and proverbs, we spend our +evenings very pleasantly together.</p> + +<p>We are going to get up a piece called "Napoleon." I do not mean my +cousins and ourselves, but that prosperous establishment, Covent +Garden Theatre. Think of Bonaparte being acted! It makes one grin +and shudder.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365" ></a><span class="pagenum">[365]</span>I have been three or four times to Mr. Pickersgill, and generally +sit two hours at a time to him. I dare say he will make a nice +picture of me, but his anxiety that it should in no respect +resemble Sir Thomas Lawrence's drawing amuses me. I was in hopes +that when I had done with him I should not have to sit to anybody +for anything again. But I find I am to undergo that boredom for a +bust by Mr. Turnerelli. I wish I could impress upon all my artist +friends that my face is an inimitable original which nature never +intended should be copied. Pazienza! I must say, though, that I +grudge the time thus spent. I want to get on with my play, but I'm +afraid for the next three weeks that will be hopeless.</p> + +<p>To add to my occupations past, present, and to come, not having +enough of acting with my professional duties in that line, I am +going to take part in some private theatricals. Lord Francis +Leveson wants to get up his version of Victor Hugo's "Hernani," at +Bridgewater House, and has begged me, as a favor, to act the +heroine; all the rest are to be amateurs. I have consented to this, +not knowing well how to refuse, yet for one or two reasons I almost +think I had better not have done so. I expect to be excessively +amused by it, but it will take up a terrible deal of my time, for I +am sure they will need rehearsals without end. I do not know at all +what our summer plans are; but I believe we shall be acting in the +provinces till September, when if all things are quiet in Paris my +father proposes going over with me and one or two members of the +Covent Garden company, and playing there for a month or so. I think +I should like that. I fancy I should like acting to a French +audience; they are people of great intellectual refinement and +discrimination, and that is a pleasant quality in an audience. I +think my father seems inclined to take A—— with us and leave her +there. A musical education can nowhere better be obtained, and +under the care of Mrs. Foster, about whom I believe I wrote to you +once a long letter, there could be no anxiety about her welfare.</p> + +<p>I showed that part of your last letter which concerned my aunt Dall +to herself, because I knew it would please her, and so it did; and +she bids me tell you that she values your good-will and esteem +extremely, and should do still more if you did not <i>misbestow so +much of them on me</i>.</p> + +<p>Emily Fitzhugh sent me this morning a Seal with a pretty device, in +consequence of my saying that I thought it was pleasanter to lean +upon one's friends, morally, than to be leant upon by them—an oak +with ivy clinging to it and "Chiedo sosteg<a name="Page_366" id="Page_366" ></a><span class="pagenum">[366]</span>no" for the motto. I do +not think I shall use it to many people, though.</p> + +<p>To-morrow Sheridan Knowles dines with us, to read a new play he has +written, in which I am to act. In the evening we go to Lady Cork's, +Sunday we have a dinner-party here, Monday I act Camiola, Tuesday +we go to Mrs. Harry's, Wednesday I act Camiola, and further I know +not. Good-by, dear; ever yours,</p> + +<p class="signature" >F. A. K.</p></div> + +<p>The piece which I have referred to in this letter, calling itself +"Bonaparte," was a sensational melodrama upon the fate and fortunes of +the great emperor, beginning with his first exploits as a young +artillery officer, himself pointing and firing the cannon at Toulon, to +the last dreary agony of the heart-broken exile of St. Helena. It was +well put upon the stage, and presented a series of historical pictures +of considerable interest and effect, not a little of which was due to +the great resemblance of Mr. Warde, who filled the principal part, to +the portraits of Napoleon. He had himself, I believe, been in the army, +and left it under the influence of a passion for the stage, which his +dramatic ability hardly justified; for though he was a very respectable +actor, he had no genius whatever, and never rose above irreproachable +mediocrity. But his military training and his peculiar likeness to +Bonaparte helped him to make his part in this piece very striking and +effective, though it was not in itself the merest peg to hang +"situations" on.</p> + +<p>I was at this time sitting for my picture to Mr. Pickersgill, with whose +portrait of my father in the part of Macbeth I have mentioned my +mother's comically expressed dissatisfaction. Our kind friend, Major +Dawkins, wished to give my father and mother a good portrait of me, and +suggested Mr. Pickersgill, a very eminent portrait-painter, as the +artist who would be likely to execute it most satisfactorily. Mr. +Pickersgill, himself, seemed very desirous to undertake it, and greatly +as my sittings interfered with my leisure, of which I had but little, it +was impossible under the circumstances that I should refuse, especially +as he represented that if he succeeded, as he hoped to do, his painting +me would be an advantage to him; portraits of public exhibitors being of +course recognizable by the public, and, if good, serving the purpose of +advertisements. Unluckily, Mrs. Jameson proposed accompanying me, in +order to lighten by her very agreeable conversation the tedium of the +process. Her intimate acquaintance with my face, with which Mr. +Pick<a name="Page_367" id="Page_367" ></a><span class="pagenum">[367]</span>ersgill was not familiar, and her own very considerable artistic +knowledge and taste made her, however, less discreet in her comments and +suggestions with regard to his operations than was altogether pleasant +to him; and after exhibiting various symptoms of impatience, on one +occasion he came so very near desiring her to mind her own business, +that we broke off the sitting abruptly; and the offended painter adding, +to my dismay, that it was quite evident he was not considered equal to +the task he had undertaken, our own attitude toward each other became so +constrained, not to say disagreeable, that on taking my leave I declined +returning any more, and what became of Mr. Pickersgill's beginning of me +I do not know. Perhaps he finished it by memory, and it is one of the +various portraits of me, <i>qui courent le monde</i>, for some of which I +never sat, which were taken either from the stage or were mere efforts +of memory of the artists; one of which, a head of Beatrice, painted by +my friend Mr. Sully, of Philadelphia, was engraved as a frontispiece to +a small volume of poems I published there, and was one of the best +likenesses ever taken of me.</p> + +<p>The success of "The Maid of Honor" gave me great pleasure. The sterling +merits of the play do not perhaps outweigh the one insuperable defect of +the despicable character of the hero; one can hardly sympathize with +Camiola's devotion to such an idol, and his unworthiness not only +lessens the interest of the piece, but detracts from the effect of her +otherwise very noble character. The performance of the part always gave +me great pleasure, and there was at once a resemblance to and difference +from my favorite character, Portia, that made it a study of much +interest to me. Both the women, young, beautiful, and of unusual +intellectual and moral excellence, are left heiresses to enormous +wealth, and are in exceptional positions of power and freedom in the +disposal of it. Portia, however, is debarred by the peculiar nature of +her father's will from bestowing her person and fortune upon any one of +her own choice; chance serves her to her wish (she was not born to be +unhappy), and gives her to the man she loves, a handsome, extravagant +young gentleman, who would certainly have been pronounced by all of us +quite unworthy of her, until she proved him worthy by the very fact of +her preference for him; while Camiola's lover is separated from her by +the double obstacle of his royal birth and religious vow.</p> + +<p>The golden daughter of the splendid republic receives and dismisses +princes and kings as her suitors, indifferent to any but their personal +merits; we feel she is their equal in the low<a name="Page_368" id="Page_368" ></a><span class="pagenum">[368]</span>est as their superior in +the highest of their "qualities;" with Camiola it is impossible not to +suspect that her lover's rank must have had some share in the glamor he +throws over her. In some Italian version of the story that I have read, +Camiola is called the "merchant's daughter;" and contrasting her bearing +and demeanor with the easy courtesy and sweet, genial graciousness of +Portia, we feel that she must have been of lower birth and breeding than +the magnificent and charming Venetian. Portia is almost always in an +attitude of (unconscious) condescension in her relations with all around +her; Camiola, in one of self-assertion or self-defense. There is an +element of harshness, bordering upon coarseness, in the texture of her +character, which in spite of her fine qualities makes itself +unpleasantly felt, especially contrasted with that of Portia, to whom +the idea of encountering insolence or insult must have been as +<i>impossible</i> as to the French duchess, who, warned that if she went into +the streets alone at night she would probably be insulted, replied with +ineffable security and simplicity, "Qui? moi!" One can imagine the +merchant's daughter <i>growing up</i> to the possession of her great wealth, +through the narrowing and hardening influences of sordid circumstances +and habits of careful calculation and rigid economy, thrifty, prudent, +just, and eminently conscientious; of Portia one can only think as of a +creature born in the very lap of luxury and nursed in the midst of sunny +magnificence, whose very element was elegant opulence and refined +splendor, and by whose cradle Fortune herself stood godmother. She seems +like a perfect rose, blooming in a precious vase of gold and gems and +exquisite workmanship. Camiola's contemptuous rebuff of her insolent +courtier lover; her merciless ridicule of her fantastical, half-witted +suitor; her bitter and harsh rebuke of Adorni when he draws his sword +upon the man who had insulted her; above all, her hard and cold +insensibility to his unbounded devotion, and the cruelty of making him +the agent for the ransom of her lover from captivity (the selfishness of +her passion inducing her to employ him because she knows how absolutely +she may depend upon the unselfishness of his); and her final stern and +peremptory claim of Bertrand's promise, are all things that Portia could +never have done. Portia is the Lady of Belmont, and Camiola is the +merchant's daughter, a very noble and magnanimous woman. In the +munificent bestowal of their wealth, the one to ransom her husband's +friend from death, the other to redeem her own lover from captivity, the +manner of the gift is strikingly characteristic of the two natures. When +Portia, <a name="Page_369" id="Page_369" ></a><span class="pagenum">[369]</span>radiant with the joy of relieving Bassanio's anguish, speaks of +Antonio's heavy ransom as the "petty debt," we feel sure that if it had +been half her fortune it would have seemed to her an insignificant price +to pay for her husband's peace of mind. Camiola reads the price set upon +her lover's head, and with grave deliberation says, "Half my estate, +Adorni," before she bids him begone and purchase at that cost the +prince's release from captivity. Moreover, in claiming her right of +purchase over him, at the very moment of his union with another woman, +she gives a character of barter or sale to the whole transaction, and +appeals for justice as a defrauded creditor, insisting upon her "money's +worth," like Shylock himself, as if the love with which her heart is +breaking had been a mere question of traffic between the heir of Sicily +and the merchant's daughter. In spite of all which she is a very fine +creature, immeasurably superior to the despicable man who accepts her +favors and betrays her love. It is worthy of note that Bassanio, who is +clearly nothing else remarkable, is every inch a gentleman, and in that +respect no unfit mate for Portia; while the Sicilian prince is a +blackguard utterly, beneath Camiola in every particular but that of his +birth.</p> + +<p>I remember two things connected with my performance of Camiola which +amused me a good deal at the time. In the last scene, when she proclaims +her intention of taking the vail, Camiola makes tardy acknowledgment to +Adorni for his life-long constancy and love by leaving him a third of +her estate, with the simple words, "To thee, Adorni, for thy true and +faithful service" (a characteristic proceeding on the part of the +merchant's daughter. Portia would have given him the ring from her +finger, or the flower from her bosom, besides the fortune). I used to +pause upon the last words, endeavoring to convey, if one look and tone +might do it, all the regretful gratitude which ought to have filled her +heart, while uttering with her farewell that first, last, and only +recognition of his infinite devotion to her. One evening, when the +audience were perfectly silent and one might have "heard a pin drop," as +the saying is, as I spoke these words, a loud and enthusiastic +exclamation of, "Beautiful!" uttered by a single voice resounded through +the theater, and was followed by such a burst of applause that I was +startled and almost for a moment frightened by the sudden explosion of +feeling, for which I was quite unprepared, and which I have never +forgotten.</p> + +<p>Another night, as I was leaving the stage, after the play, I met behind +the scenes my dear friend Mr. Harness, with old <a name="Page_370" id="Page_370" ></a><span class="pagenum">[370]</span>Mr. Sotheby; both were +very kind in their commendation of my performance, but the latter kept +repeating with much emphasis, "But how do you contrive to make yourself +look so beautiful?" a rather equivocal compliment, which had a peculiar +significance; my beauty, or rather my lack of it, being a sore subject +between us, as I had made it the reason for refusing to act Mary Stuart +in his play of "Darnley," assuring him I was too ugly to look the part +properly; so upon this accusation of making myself "look beautiful," I +could only reply, with much laughing, "Good-looking enough for Camiola, +but not for Queen Mary."</p> + +<p>I received with great pleasure a congratulatory letter from Mrs. +Jameson, which, in spite of my feeling her praise excessive, confirmed +me in my opinion of the effect the piece ought to produce upon +intelligent spectators. She had seen all the great dramatic performers +of the Continental theaters, and had had many opportunities, both at +home and abroad, of cultivating her taste and forming her judgment, and +her opinion was, therefore, more valuable to me than much of the +criticism and praise that I received.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, March, 1831.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dear Mrs. Jameson</span>, +</p> + +<p>My mother is confined to her bed with a bad cold, or she would have +answered your note herself; but, being disabled, she has +commissioned me to do so, and desires me to say that both my father +and herself object to my going anywhere without some member of my +family as chaperon; and as this is a general rule, the infringement +of it in a particular instance, however much I might wish it, would +be better avoided, for fear of giving offense where I should be +glad to plead the prohibition. She bids me add that she fears she +cannot go out to-morrow, but that some day soon, at an early hour, +she hopes to be able to accompany us both to the British Gallery. +Will you come to us on Sunday evening? You see what is hanging over +me for Thursday next; shall you go to see me?</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Yours affectionately,</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p></div> + +<p>I did not, and do not, at all question the good judgment of my parents +in not allowing me to go into society unaccompanied by one or the other +of themselves. The only occasion on which I remember feeling very +rebellious with regard to this <a name="Page_371" id="Page_371" ></a><span class="pagenum">[371]</span>rule was that of the coronation of King +William and Queen Adelaide, for which imposing ceremony a couple of +peers' tickets had been very kindly sent us, but of which I was unable +to avail myself, my father being prevented by business from escorting +me, my mother being out of town, and my brother's countenance and +protection not being, in their opinion, adequate for the occasion. So +John went alone to the abbey, and say the fine show, and my peer's +ticket remained unused on my mantelpiece, a constant suggestion of the +great disappointment I had experienced when, after some discussion, it +was finally determined that he was too young to be considered a proper +chaperon for me. Dear me! how vexed I was! and how little charmed with +my notoriety, which was urged as the special reason for my being hedged +round with the utmost conventional decorum!</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, March, 1831.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dear Mrs. Jameson</span>, +</p> + +<p>I have but two minutes to say two words to you, in answer to your +very kind note. Both my mother and myself went out of town, not to +recover from absolute indisposition, but to recruit strength. I am +sorry to say she is far from well now, however; but as I think her +present suffering springs from cold, I hope a few warm days will +remove it. I am myself very well, except a bad cough which I have +had for some time, and a very bad side-ache, which has just come +on, and which, if I had time in addition to the inclination which I +have, would prevent me from writing much more at present. I envy +you your time spent in the country; the first days of spring and +last of autumn should never be spent between brick houses and stone +pavements. I am truly sorry for the anxieties you have undergone; +your father is, I trust, quite recovered; and as to your dear baby +(Mrs. Jameson's niece), remember it is but beginning to make you +anxious, and will continue to do so as long as it lives, which is a +perfect Job's comforter, is it not? The story of your old man +interested me very much; I suppose a parent can love all through a +whole lifetime of absence: but do you think there can be a very +strong and enduring affection in a child's bosom for a parent +hardly known except by hearsay? I should doubt it. I must leave off +now, and remain,</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Always yours most truly,</p><p class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">F. A. Kemble</span>. +</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, March 29, 1831.<a name="Page_372" id="Page_372" ></a><span class="pagenum">[372]</span></p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dear Mrs. Jameson</span>, +</p> + +<p>Will you be kind enough to forward my very best acknowledgments to +Sir Gerard Nöel, both for his good wishes and the more tangible +proof of interest he sent me (a considerable payment for a box on +my benefit night)? I am sorry you were alarmed on Monday. You +alarmed us all; you looked so exceedingly ill that I feared +something very serious had occurred to distress and vex you. Thank +you for your critique upon my Constance; both my mother and myself +were much delighted with it; it was every way acceptable to me, for +the censure I knew to be deserved, and the praise I hoped was so, +and they were blended in the very nicest proportions. We dine at +six to-morrow. Lady Cork insisted upon five, but that was really +too primitive, because, as the dandy said, "we cannot eat meat in +the morning."</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Ever yours most truly,</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, March 30, 1831.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dear Mrs. Jameson</span>, +</p> + +<p>Thank you for your money; it is necessary to be arithmetical if one +means to be economical, and I receive your tribute with more +pleasure than that of a duchess. I sometimes hear people lament +that they have anything to do with money. I do not at all share +that feeling; money, after all, only represents other things. If +one has much, it is always well to look to one's expenditure, or +the much will become much less; and if one has little, and works +hard for it, I cannot understand being above receiving the price of +one's labor. In all kinds "the laborer is worthy of his hire," and +I think it very foolish to talk as if we set no value upon that +which we value enough to toil for. With regard to the tickets you +wish me to send you, I must refer you to the theater; for, finding +that my wits and temper were both likely to be lost in the +box-book, I sent the whole away to Mr. Notter, the box-book keeper, +to whom you had better apply.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Yours ever truly,</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p></div> + +<p>This and the preceding note refer to my benefit, of which, according to +a not infrequent custom with the more popular members of the profession, +I had undertaken to manage the <a name="Page_373" id="Page_373" ></a><span class="pagenum">[373]</span>business details, but found myself, as I +have here stated, quite incompetent to encounter the worry of +applications for boxes, and seats, and special places, etc., etc., and +have never since, in the course of my whole public career, had anything +to do with the management of my own affairs.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, March, 1831.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dear Mrs. Jameson</span>, +</p> + +<p>I was not at home yesterday afternoon when you sent to our house, +and all the evening was so busy studying that I had not time to +answer your dispatch. Thank you for your last year's letter; it is +curious to look back, even to so short a time, and see how the past +affected one when it was the present. I remember I was very happy +and comfortable at Bath, the critics notwithstanding. Thank you, +too, for your more recent epistle. I am grateful for, and gratified +by, your minute observation of my acting. I am always thankful for +your criticisms, even when I do not quite agree with them; for I +know that you are always kindly anxious that I should not destroy +my own effects, which I believe I not unfrequently do. With regard +to my action, unless in passages which necessarily require a +specific gesture, such as, "You'll find them at the Marchesa +Aldabella's," I never determine any one particular movement; and, +of course, this must render my action different almost every time; +and so it depends upon my own state of excitement and inspiration, +so to speak, whether the gesture be forcible or not. My father +desires me to send you Retsch's "Hamlet;" it is his, and I request +you not to judge it too hastily: I have generally heard it abused, +but I think in many parts it has very great merit. I am told that +Retsch says he has no fancy for illustrating "Romeo and Juliet," +which seems strange. One would have thought he would have delighted +in portraying those lovely human beings, whom one always imagines +endowed with an outward and visible form as youthful, beautiful, +and full of grace, as their passion itself was. Surely the balcony, +the garden, and grave-yard scenes, would have furnished admirable +subjects for his delicate and powerful hand. Is it possible that he +thinks the thing beyond him? I must go to work. Good-by.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Ever yours truly,</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p> + +<p>You marked so many things in my manuscript book that I really felt +ashamed to copy them all, for I should have filled <a name="Page_374" id="Page_374" ></a><span class="pagenum">[374]</span>more than half +yours with my rhymes. I have just added to those I did transcribe a +sonnet I wrote on Monday night after the play.</p></div> + +<p>It may have been that the execution of "Faust," his masterpiece, +disinclined Retsch for the treatment of another love story. He did +subsequently illustrate "Romeo and Juliet" with much grace and beauty; +but it is, as a whole, undoubtedly inferior to his illustrations of +Goethe's tragical love story. Retsch's genius was too absolutely German +to allow of his treating anything from any but a German point of view. +Shakespeare, Englishman as he is, has written an Italian "Romeo and +Juliet;" but Retsch's lovers are Teutonic in spite of their costume, and +nowhere, as in the wonderful play, is the Southern passion made manifest +through the Northern thought.</p> + +<p>The private theatricals at Bridgewater House were fruitful of serious +consequences to me, and bestowed on me a lasting friendship and an +ephemeral love: the one a source of much pleasure, the other of some +pain. They entailed much intimate intercourse with Lord and Lady Francis +Leveson Gower, afterward Egerton, and finally Earl and Countess of +Ellesmere, who became kind and constant friends of mine. Victor Hugo's +play of "Hernani," full of fine and striking things, as well as of +exaggerations verging on the ludicrous, had been most admirably rendered +into rhymed verse by Lord Ellesmere. His translations from the German +and his English version of "Faust," which was one of the first attempts +to give a poetical rendering in our language of Goethe's masterpiece, +had won him some literary reputation, and his rhymed translation of +"Hernani" was a performance calculated to add to it considerably. He was +a very accomplished and charming person; good and amiable, clever, +cultivated, and full of fine literary and artistic taste. He was +singularly modest and shy, with a gentle diffidence of manner and sweet, +melancholy expression in his handsome face that did no justice to a keen +perception of humor and relish of fun, which nobody who did not know him +intimately would have suspected him of.</p> + +<p>Of Lady Ellesmere I have already said that she was a sort of idol of +mine in my girlhood, when first I knew her, and to the end of her life +continued to be an object of my affectionate admiration. She was +excellently conscientious, true, and upright; of a direct and simple +integrity of mind and character which her intercourse with the great +world to which she be<a name="Page_375" id="Page_375" ></a><span class="pagenum">[375]</span>longed never impaired, and which made her singular +and unpopular in the artificial society of English high life. Her +appearance always seemed to me strikingly indicative of her mind and +character. The nobly delicate and classical outline of her face, her +pure, transparent complexion, and her clear, fearless eyes were all +outward and visible expressions of her peculiar qualities. Her +beautifully shaped head and fine profile always reminded me of the +Pallas Athene on some antique gem, and the riding cap with the visor, +which she first made fashionable, increased the classical resemblance. +She was curiously wanting in imagination, and I never heard anything +more comically literal than her description of her own utter +<i>destitution</i> of poetical taste. After challenging in vain her +admiration for the great poets of our language, I quoted to her, not +without misgiving, some charmingly graceful and tender lines, addressed +to herself by her husband, and asked her if she did not like those: "Oh +yes," replied she, "I think they are very nice, but you know I think +they would be just as nice <i>if they were not verses</i>; and whenever I +hear any poetry that I like at all, I always think how much better I +should like it if it was prose;" an explanation of her taste that +irresistibly reminded me of the delightful Frenchman's sentiment about +spinach: "Je n'aime pas les épinards, et je suis si content que je ne +les aime pas! parce que si je les aimais, j'en mangerais beaucoup, et je +ne peux pas les souffrir."</p> + +<p>My intercourse with Lady Ellesmere, which had been a good deal +interrupted during the years I passed out of England, was renewed the +year before her death, when I visited her at Hatchford, where she was +residing in her widowhood, and where I promised her when I left her I +would return and stay with her again, but was never fortunate enough to +do so, her death occurring not long afterward.</p> + +<p>During one of my last visits to Worsley Hall, Lord Ellesmere's seat in +Lancashire, Lady Ellesmere had taken me all over the beautiful church +they were building near their house, which was to be his and her final +resting-place. After her death I made a pilgrimage to it for her sake, +and when the service was over and the young members of the family had +left their place of worship near the grave of their parents, I went into +their chapel, where a fine monument with his life-sized effigy in marble +had been dedicated to him by her love, and where close beside it and +below it lay the marble slab on which her name was inscribed.</p> + +<p>Our performance at Bridgewater House was highly successful <a name="Page_376" id="Page_376" ></a><span class="pagenum">[376]</span>and created a +great sensation, and we repeated it three times for the edification of +the great gay world of London, sundry royal personages included. Two of +our company, Mr. Craven and Mr. St. Aubin, were really good actors; the +rest were of a tolerably decent inoffensiveness. Mrs. Bradshaw, the +charming Maria Tree of earlier days, accepted the few lines that had to +be spoken by Donna Sol's duenna, and delivered the epilogue, which, +besides being very graceful and playful, contains some lines for which I +felt grateful to Lord Ellesmere's kindness, though he had certainly +taken a poet's full license of embellishing his subject in his laudatory +reference to his Donna Sol.</p> + +<p>The whole thing amused me very much, and mixed up, as it soon came to be +for me, with an element of real and serious interest, kept up the +atmosphere of nervous excitement in which I was plunged from morning +till night.</p> + +<p>The play which Sheridan Knowles came to read to us was "The Hunchback." +He had already produced several successful dramas, of which the most +striking was Virginius, in which Mr. Macready performed the Roman father +so finely. The play Knowles now read to us had been originally taken by +him to Drury Lane in the hope and expectation that Kean would accept the +principal man's part of Master Walter. Various difficulties and +disagreements arising, however, about the piece, the author brought it +to my father; and great was my emotion and delight in hearing him read +it. From the first moment I felt sure that it would succeed greatly, and +that I should be able to do justice to the part of the heroine, and I +was anxious with my father for its production. The verdict of the Green +Room was not, however, nearly as favorable as I had expected; and I was +surprised to find that when the piece was read to the assembled company +it was received with considerable misgiving as to its chance of success.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + + +<p>It is very curious that their experience tells so little among +theatrical people in their calculation of the probable success of a new +piece; perhaps it may be said that they cannot positively foresee the +effect each actor or actress may produce with certain parts; but given +the best possible representation of the <a name="Page_377" id="Page_377" ></a><span class="pagenum">[377]</span>piece, the precise temper of the +particular audience who decides its fate on the first night of +representation is always an unknown quantity in the calculation, and no +technical experience ever seems to arrive at anything like even +approximate certainty with regard to that. I felt perfectly sure of the +success of "The Hunchback," but I think that was precisely because of my +want of theatrical experience, which left me rather in the position of +one of the public than one of the players, and there was much grave +head-shaking over it, especially on the part of our excellent +stage-manager, Mr. Bartley, who was exceedingly faint-hearted about the +experiment.</p> + +<p>My father, with great professional disinterestedness, took the +insignificant part of the insignificant lover, and Knowles himself +filled that of the hero of the piece, the hunchback; a circumstance +which gave the part a peculiar interest, and compensated in some measure +for the loss of the great genius of Kean, for whom it had been written.</p> + +<p>The same species of uncertainty which I have said characterizes the +judgments of actors with regard to the success of new pieces sometimes +affects the appreciation authors themselves form of the relative merits +of their own works, inducing them to value more highly some which they +esteem their best, and to which that pre-eminence is denied by popular +verdict. Knowles, while writing "The Hunchback," was so absorbed with +the idea of what Kean's impersonation of it would probably be, that he +was entirely unconscious of what the great actor himself probably +perceived, that on the stage the part of Julia would overweigh and +eclipse that of Master Walter. Knowles felt sure he had written a fine +man's part, and was really not aware that the woman's part was still +finer. What is yet more singular is that while he was writing "The +Wife," which he did immediately afterward, with a view to my acting the +principal female character, he constantly said to me, "I am writing +<i>such</i> a part for you!" and had no notion that the only part capable of +any effect at all in the piece was that of Julian St. Pierre, the +good-for-nothing brother of the duchess.</p> + +<p>The play of "The Wife" was singularly wanting in interest, and except in +the character of St. Pierre was ineffective and flat from beginning to +end, in that respect a perfect contrast to "The Hunchback," in which the +interest is vivid and strong, and never flags from the first scene to +the last. I was quite unable to make anything at all of the part of +Marianna, nor have I ever heard of its becoming prominent or striking in +the hands of any one else.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378" ></a><span class="pagenum">[378]</span>"The Hunchback," according to my confident expectation, succeeded. +Knowles played his own hero with great force and spirit, though he was +in such a state of wild excitement that I expected to see him fly on the +stage whenever he should have been off it, and <i>vice versâ</i>, and +followed him about behind the scenes endeavoring to keep him in his +right mind with regard to his exits and his entrances, and receiving +from him explosive Irish benedictions in return for my warnings and +promptings. Throughout the whole first representation I was really as +nervous for and about him as I was about the play itself and my own +particular part in it. My father did the impossible with Sir Thomas +Clifford, in making him both dignified and interesting; and Miss Taylor +was capital in the saucy Helen. My part played itself and was greatly +liked by the audience; the piece was one of the most popular original +plays of my time, and has continued a favorite alike with the public and +the players. The part of the heroine is one, indeed, in which it would +be almost impossible to fail; and every Julia may reckon upon the +sympathy of her audience, the character is so pre-eminently effective +and dramatic.</p> + +<p>Of the play as a composition not much is to be said; it has little +poetical or literary merit, and even the plot is so confused and obscure +that nobody to my knowledge (not even the author himself, of whom I once +asked an explanation of it) was ever able to make it out or give a +plausible account of it. The characters are inconsistent and wanting in +verisimilitude to a degree that ought to prove fatal to them with any +tolerably reasonable spectators; in spite of all which the play is +interesting, exciting, affecting, and humorous. The powerfully dramatic +effect of the situations, and the two characters of Master Walter and +Julia, the great scope for good acting in all the scenes in which they +appear, the natural fire, passion, and pathos of the dialogue, in short +the great merits of the piece as an acting play cover all its defects; +even the heroine's vulgar, flighty folly and the hero's absurd +eccentricity interfering wonderfully little with the sympathy of the +audience for their troubles and their final triumph over them. "The +Hunchback" is a very satisfactory play to <i>see</i>, but let nobody who has +seen it well acted attempt to read it in cold blood!</p> + +<p>It had an immense run, and afforded me an opportunity of testing the +difference between an infinite repetition of the text of Shakespeare and +that of any other writer. I played Juliet upward of a hundred nights +without any change of part and did not weary of it; Julia, in "The +Hunchback," after half the <a name="Page_379" id="Page_379" ></a><span class="pagenum">[379]</span>repetition became so tiresome to me that I +would have given anything to have changed parts with my sprightly Helen, +if only for a night, to refresh myself and recover a little from the +extreme weariness I felt in constantly repeating Julia. The audience +certainly would have suffered by the exchange, for Miss Taylor would not +have played my part so much better than I, as I should have played hers +worse than she did. Indeed, her performance of the character of Helen +saved it from the reproach of coarseness, which very few actresses would +have been able to avoid while giving it all the point and lively humor +which she threw into it. I had great pleasure in acting the piece with +her, she did her business so thoroughly well and was so amiable and +agreeable a fellow-worker.</p> + +<p>In my last letter to Miss S—— I have spoken of a party at the Countess +of Cork's, to which I went. She was one of the most curious figures in +the London society of my girlish days. Very aged, yet retaining much of +a vivacity of spirit and sprightly wit for which she had been famous as +Mary Monckton, she continued till between ninety and a hundred years old +to entertain her friends and the gay world, who frequently during the +season assembled at her house.</p> + +<p>I have still a note begging me to come to one of her evening parties, +written under her dictation by a young person who used to live with her, +and whom she called her "Memory;" the few concluding lines scrawled by +herself are signed "<i>M. Cork, æt</i>. 92." She was rather apt to appeal to +her friends to come to her on the score of her age; and I remember +Rogers showing me an invitation he had received from her for one of the +ancient concert evenings (these were musical entertainments of the +highest order, which Mr. Rogers never failed to attend), couched in +these terms: "Dear Rogers, leave the ancient music and come to ancient +Cork, 93." Lady Cork's drawing-rooms were rather peculiar in their +arrangement: they did not contain that very usual piece of furniture, a +pianoforte, so that if ever she especially desired to have music she +hired an instrument for the evening; the rest of the furniture consisted +only of very large and handsome armchairs placed round the apartments +against the walls, to which they were <i>made fast</i> by some mysterious +process, so that it was quite impossible to form a small circle or +coterie of one's own at one of her assemblies. I remember when first I +made this discovery expressing my surprise to the beautiful Lady Harriet +d'Orsay, who laughingly suggested that poor old Lady Cork's infirmity +with regard to the property of others (a well-known incapacity for +discriminat<a name="Page_380" id="Page_380" ></a><span class="pagenum">[380]</span>ing between <i>meum</i> and <i>tuum</i>) might probably be the cause of +this peculiar precaution with regard to her own armchairs, which it +would not, however, have been a very easy matter to have stolen even had +they not been chained to the walls. In the course of the conversation +which followed, Lady E——, apparently not at all familiar with +Chesterfield's Letters, said that it was Lady Cork who had originated +the idea that after all heaven would probably turn out very dull to her +<i>when she got there; sitting on damp clouds and singing "God save the +King</i>" being her idea of the principal amusements there. This rather +dreary image of the joys of the blessed was combated, however, by Lady +E——, who put forth her own theory on the subject as far more genial, +saying, "Oh dear, no; she thought it would be all splendid <i>fêtes</i> and +delightful dinner parties, and charming, clever people; <i>just like the +London season, only a great deal pleasanter because there would be no +bores.</i>" With reference to Lady Cork's theory, Lady Harriet said, "I +suppose it would be rather tiresome for her, poor thing! for you know +she hates music, and there would be nothing to steal <i>but one another's +wings</i>."</p> + +<p>Lady Cork's great age did not appear to interfere with her enjoyment of +society, in which she lived habitually. I remember a very comical +conversation with her in which she was endeavoring to appoint some day +for my dining with her, our various engagements appearing to clash. She +took up the pocket-book where hers were inscribed, and began reading +them out with the following running commentary: "Wednesday—no, +Wednesday won't do; Lady Holland dines with me—naughty lady!—won't do, +my dear. Thursday?" "Very sorry, Lady Cork, we are engaged." "Ah yes, so +am I; let's see—Friday; no, Friday I have the Duchess of C——, another +naughty lady; mustn't come then, my dear. Saturday?" "No, Lady Cork, I +am very sorry—Saturday, we are engaged to Lady D——." "Oh dear, oh +dear! improper lady, too! but a long time ago, everybody's forgotten all +about it—very proper now! quite proper now!"</p> + +<p>Lady Cork's memory seemed to me to stretch beyond the limits of what +everybody had forgotten. She was quite a young woman at the time of the +youth of George III., and spoke of Frederick, Prince of Wales, to whose +wife she, then the Honorable Mary Monckton, was maid of honor. It is a +most tantalizing circumstance to me now, to remember a fragment of a +conversation between herself and my mother, on the occasion of the first +visit I was ever taken to pay her. I was a very <a name="Page_381" id="Page_381" ></a><span class="pagenum">[381]</span>young girl; it was just +after my return from school at Paris, and the topics discussed by my +mother and her old lady friend interested me so little that I was +looking out of the window, and wondering when we should go away, when my +attention was arrested by these words spoken with much emphasis by Lady +Cork: "Yes, my dear, I was alone in the room, and the picture turned in +its frame, and Lord Bute came out from behind it;" here, perceiving my +eyes riveted upon her, she lowered her voice, and I distinctly felt that +I was expected to look out of the window again, without having any idea, +however, that the question was probably one of the character of a +"naughty lady" of higher rank than those so designated to me some years +later by old Lady Cork, who, if I may judge by this fragment of gossip, +might have cleared up some disputed points as to the relations between +the Princess of Wales and the Prime Minister.</p> + +<p>I do not know that Lady Cork's reputation for beauty ever equaled that +she had for wit, but when I knew her, at upward of ninety, she was +really a very comely old woman. Her complexion was still curiously fine +and fair, and there was great vivacity in her eyes and countenance, as +well as wonderful liveliness in her manner. Her figure was very slight +and diminutive, and at the parties at her own house she always was +dressed entirely in white—in some rich white silk, with a white bonnet +covered with a rich blonde or lace vail on her head; she looked like a +little old witch bride. I recollect a curious scene my mother described +to me, which she witnessed one day when calling on Lady Cork, whom she +had known for many years. She was shown into her dressing-room, where +the old lady was just finishing her toilet. She was about to put on her +gown, and remaining a moment without it showed my mother her arms and +neck, which were even then still white and round and by no means +unlovely, and said, pointing to her maid, "Isn't it a shame! she won't +let me wear my gowns low or my sleeves short any more." To which the +maid responded by throwing the gown over her mistress's shoulders, +exclaiming at the same time, "Oh, fie, my lady! you ought to be ashamed +of yourself to talk so at your age!"—a rebuke which the nonagenarian +beauty accepted with becoming humility.</p> + +<p>The unfortunate propensity of poor Lady Cork to appropriate all sorts of +things belonging to other people, valueless quite as often as valuable, +was matter of public notoriety, so that the fashionable London +tradesmen, to whom her infirmity in this respect was well known, never +allowed their goods to be taken <a name="Page_382" id="Page_382" ></a><span class="pagenum">[382]</span>to her carriage for inspection, but +always exacted that she should come into their shops, where an +individual was immediately appointed to follow her about and watch her +during the whole time she was making her purchases.</p> + +<p>Whenever she visited her friends in the country, her maid on her return +home used to gather together whatever she did not recognize as belonging +to her mistress, and her butler transmitted it back to the house where +they had been staying. I heard once a most ludicrous story of her +carrying off, <i>faute de mieux</i>, a <i>hedgehog</i> from a place where the +creature was a pet of the porters, and was running tame about the hall +as Lady Cork crossed it to get into her carriage. She made her poor +"Memory" seize up the prickly beast, but after driving a few miles with +this unpleasant spiked foot-warmer, she found means to dispose of it at +a small town, where she stopped to change horses, to a baker, to whom +she gave it in payment for a sponge cake, assuring him that a hedgehog +would be invaluable in his establishment for the destruction of black +beetles, with which she knew, from good authority, that the premises of +bakers were always infested.</p> + +<p>The following note was addressed to Lady Dacre on the subject of a +pretty piece called "Isaure," which she had written and very kindly +wished to have acted at Covent Garden for my benefit. It was, however, +judged of too slight and delicate a texture for that large frame, and +the purpose was relinquished. I rather think it was acted in private at +Hatfield House, Lady Salisbury filling the part of the heroine, which I +was to have taken had the piece been brought out at Covent Garden.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="salutation">><span class="smcap">My dear Lady Dacre</span>,</p> + +<p>Will you be kind enough to send "Isaure" to my father? We will take +the greatest possible care of her, and return her to you in all +safety. I am only sorry that he cannot have the pleasure of hearing +you read it; for though it can take its own part very well, you +know even Shakespeare is not the worse for the interpretation of a +sweet voice, musical accent, and correct emphasis. With regard to +the production of the piece on the stage, I do not like to venture +an opinion, because my short experience has been long enough +already to show me how easily I might be mistaken in such matters.</p> + +<p>There is no rule by which the humors of an audience can be +predicted. On a benefit night, indeed, I feel sure that the piece +would succeed, and answer your kind intention of adding <a name="Page_383" id="Page_383" ></a><span class="pagenum">[383]</span>to the +attractions of the bill, be they what they might; but our judges +are not the same, you know, two consecutive evenings, and therefore +it is impossible to foretell the sentence of a second +representation, for no "benefit" but that of the public itself. +Isaure is a refined patrician beauty, and I am sometimes inclined +to think that the Memphian head alone is of fit proportions for +uttering oracles in the huge space of our modern stage. My father, +however, is, from long experience, the best guesser of these +riddles, and he will tell you honestly his opinion as to your +heroine's public capacity. I am sure he will find his own reward in +making her acquaintance. I am, my dear Lady Dacre, faithfully +yours,</p> + +<p class="signature"><span class="smcap">Fanny Kemble</span>.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dear Mrs. Jameson</span>, +</p> + +<p>Thank you for the book you were so good as to send me. I have read +that which concerns the Cenci in it, and think Leigh Hunt's +reflections on the story and tragedy very good. I am glad you were +at the play last night, because I thought I acted well—at least, I +tried to do so. I stayed the first act of the new after-piece, and +was rather amused by it. I do not know how the ladies' +"inexpressibles" might affect the fortunes of the second act, but I +liked all their gay petticoats in the first, extremely. The weather +is not very propitious for us; we start to-morrow at nine. I send +you the only copy of Sophocles I can lay my hand on this morning. +Yours ever truly,</p> + +<p class="signature"><span class="smcap">F. A. Kemble</span>.</p></div> + +<p>A little piece called "The Invincibles," in which a smart corps of young +Amazons in uniform were officered by Madame Vestris in the prettiest +regimentals ever well worn by woman, was the novelty I alluded to. The +effect of the female troop was very pretty, and the piece was very +successful.</p> + +<p>I had only lately read Shelley's great tragedy, and Mrs. Jameson had +been so good as to lend me various notices and criticisms upon it. The +hideous subject itself is its weak point, and his selection of it one +cause for doubting Shelley's power as a dramatic writer. Everything else +in the terrible play suggests the probable loss his death may have been +to the dramatic literature of England. At the same time, the tenor of +all his poems denotes a mind too unfamiliar with human life and human +<a name="Page_384" id="Page_384" ></a><span class="pagenum">[384]</span>nature in their ordinary normal aspects and conditions for a good writer +of plays. His metaphysical was almost too much for his poetical +imagination, and perhaps nothing between the morbid horror of that Cenci +story and the ideal grandeur of the Greek Prometheus would have excited +him to the dramatic handling of any subject.</p> + +<p>His translation from Calderon's "El Magico Prodigioso," and his bit of +the Brocken scene from "Faust," are fine samples of his power of +dramatic style; he alone could worthily have translated the whole of +"Faust;" but I suppose he really was too deficient in the vigorous +flesh-and-blood vitality of the highest and healthiest poetical genius +to have been a dramatist. He could not deal with common folk nor handle +common things; humor, that great <i>tragic</i> element, was not in him; the +heavens and all their clouds and colors were his, and he floated and +hovered and soared in the ethereal element like one native to it. Upon +the firm earth his foot wants firmness, and men and women as they are, +are at once too coarse and complex, too robust and too infinitely +various for his delicate, fine, but in some sense feeble handling.</p> + +<p>Browning is the very reverse of Shelley in this respect; both have +written one fine play and several fine dramatic compositions; but +throughout Shelley's poetry the dramatic spirit is deficient, while in +Browning's it reveals itself so powerfully that one wonders how he has +escaped writing many good plays besides the "Blot on the Scutcheon" and +that fine fragmentary succession of scenes, "Pippa Passes."</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dear Mrs. Jameson</span>, +</p> + +<p>I fear I am going to disappoint you, and 'tis with real regret that +I do so, but I have been acting every night almost for the last +month, and when to-day I mentioned my project of spending this my +holiday evening with you, both my aunt and my father seemed to +think that in discharging my debt to you I was defrauding nearer +and older creditors; and suggested that my mother, who really sees +but little of me now, might think my going out to-night unkind. I +cannot, therefore, carry out my plan of visiting you, and beg that +you will forgive my not keeping my promise this evening. I am +moreover so far from well that my company would hardly give you +much pleasure, nor could I stay long if I came, for early as it is +my head is aching for its pillow already.</p> + +<p>As soon as a week occurs in which I have <i>two</i> holidays I will <a name="Page_385" id="Page_385" ></a><span class="pagenum">[385]</span>try +to give you one of them. I send you back Crabbe, which I have kept +for ever; for a great poet, which he is, he is curiously +unpoetical, I think. Yours ever truly,</p> + +<p class="signature"><span class="smcap">F. A. Kemble</span>.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dear Mrs. Jameson</span>, +</p> + +<p>My mother bids me say that you certainly will suppose she is mad, +or else <i>Mother Hubbard's dog</i>; for when you called she was +literally ill in bed, and this evening she cannot have the pleasure +of receiving you, because she is engaged out, here in our own +neighborhood, to a very quiet tea. She bids me thank you very much +for the kindness of your proposed visit, and express her regret at +not being able to avail herself of it. If you can come on Thursday, +between one and two o'clock, I shall be most happy to see you. +Thank you very much for Lamb's "Dramatic Specimens;" I read the +scene you had copied from "Philaster" directly; how fine it is! how +I should like to act it! Mr. Harness has sent me the first volume +of the family edition of the "Old Plays." I think sweeping those +fine dramas clean is a good work that cannot be enough commended. +What treasures we possess and make no use of, while we go on acting +"Gamesters" and "Grecian Daughters," and such poor stuff! But I +have no time for ecstasies or exclamations. Yours ever most truly,</p> + +<p class="signature"><span class="smcap">F. A. Kemble</span>.</p></div> + +<p>I have said that hardly any new part was ever assigned to me that I did +not receive with a rueful sense of inability to what I called "do +anything with it." Julia in "The Hunchback," and Camiola in "The Maid of +Honor," were among the few exceptions to this preparatory attack of +despondency; but those I in some sort choose myself, and all my other +characters were appointed me by the management, in obedience to whose +dictates, and with the hope of serving the interests of the theater, I +suppose I should have acted Harlequin if I had been ordered to do so.</p> + +<p>Lady Teazle and Mrs. Oakley were certainly no exceptions to this +experience of a cold fit of absolute incapacity with which I received +every new part appointed me, and my studying of them might have been +called lugubrious, whatever my subsequent performance of them may have +been. My mother was of invaluable assistance to me in the process, and I +owe to her what<a name="Page_386" id="Page_386" ></a><span class="pagenum">[386]</span>ever effect I produced in either part. She had great +comic as well as pathetic power, and the incisive point of her delivery +gave every shade of meaning of the dialogue with admirable truth and +pungency; her own performance of Mrs. Oakley had been excellent; I acted +it, even with the advantage of her teaching, very tamely. Jealousy, in +any shape, was not a passion that I sympathized with; the tragic misery +of Bianca's passion was, however, a thing I could imagine sufficiently +well to represent it; but not so Mrs. Oakley's fantastical frenzies. But +the truth is that it was not until many years later and in my readings +of Shakespeare that I developed any real comic faculty at all; and I +have been amused in the later part of my public career to find comedy +often considered my especial gift, rather than the tragic and pathetic +one I was supposed at the beginning of it to possess.</p> + +<p>The fact is that except in broad farce, where the principal ingredient +being humor, animal spirits and a grotesque imagination, which are of no +particular age, come strongly into play, comedy appears to me decidedly +a more mature and complete result of dramatic training than tragedy. The +effect of the latter may, as I myself exemplified, be tolerably achieved +by force of natural gifts, aided but little by study; but a fine +comedian <i>must</i> be a fine artist; his work is intellectual, and not +emotional, and his effects address themselves to the critical judgment +and not the passionate sympathy of an audience. Tact, discretion, fine +taste, are quite indispensable elements of his performance; he must be +really a more complete actor than a great tragedian need be. The +expression of passion and emotion appears to be an interpretation of +nature, and may be forcibly rendered sometimes with but little beyond +the excitement of its imaginary experience on the actor's own +sensibility; while a highly educated perfection is requisite for the +actor who, in a brilliant and polished representation of the follies of +society, produces by fine and delicate and powerful delineations the +picture of the vices and ridicules of a highly artificial civilization.</p> + +<p>Good company itself is not unapt to be very good acting of high comedy, +while tragedy, which underlies all life, if by chance it rises to the +smooth surface of polite, social intercourse, agitates and disturbs it +and produces even in that uncongenial sphere the rarely heard discord of +a natural condition and natural expression of natural feeling.</p> + +<p>Of my performance of Mrs. Oakley I have but one recollection, which is +that of having once, while acting it with my <a name="Page_387" id="Page_387" ></a><span class="pagenum">[387]</span>father, disconcerted him to +such a degree as to compel him to turn up the stage in an uncontrollable +fit of laughter. I remember the same thing happening once when I was +playing Beatrice to his Benedict. I have not the least notion what I did +that struck my father with such irrepressible merriment, but I suppose +there must have been something in itself irresistibly ludicrous to him, +toward whom my manner was habitually respectfully deferential (for our +intercourse with our parents, though affectionate, was not familiar, and +we seldom addressed them otherwise than as "sir" and "ma'am"), to be +pelted by me with the saucy sallies of Beatrice's mischievous wit, or +pummeled with the grotesque outbursts of poor Mrs. Oakley's jealous +fury.</p> + +<p>Our personal relation, which thus rendered our performance of comedy +together especially comical to my father, added infinitely to my +distress in all tragedies in which we acted together; the sense of his +displeasure or the sight of his anguish invariably bringing him, my +father, and not the part he was acting, before me; and, as in the play +of "The Stranger" and the pathetic little piece of "The Deserter," +affecting me with almost uncontrollable emotion.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, April 10, 1831.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I owe you something like an explanatory note after that ejaculatory +one I sent you the other day. You must have thought me crazy; but +indeed, since all these late alarming reports from Spain, until the +news came of John's safety, I did not know how much fear and +anxiety lay under the hope and courage I had endeavored to maintain +about him.</p> + +<p>From day to day I had read the reports and tried to reason with +regard to their probability, and to persuade my mother that we had +every cause for hoping the best; and it was really not until that +hope was realized that it seemed as if all my mental nerves and +muscles, braced to the resistance of calamity, had suddenly relaxed +and given way under the relief from all further apprehension of it. +I have kept much of my forebodings to myself, but they have been +constant and wretched enough, and my gratitude for this termination +of them is unspeakable.</p> + +<p>I heard last night a report which I have not mentioned to my mother +for fear it should prove groundless. Horace Twiss showed me a note +in which a gentleman assured him that John had positively taken his +passage in a Government vessel, and <a name="Page_388" id="Page_388" ></a><span class="pagenum">[388]</span>was now on his way home; even +if this is true, I am afraid to tell my mother, because if the +vessel should be delayed a day or two by weather or any other +cause, her anxiety will have another set of apprehensions to feed +upon, and to prey upon her with. She desires her best love to you; +she likes your pamphlet on "The Education of the People" very much, +at the same time that it has not convinced her that instruction is +wholesome for the lower orders; she thinks the dependence of +helplessness and ignorance a better security (for them, or for +those above them, I wonder?) than the power of reasoning rightly +and a sense of duty, in which opinion, as you will believe, I do +not agree.</p> + +<p>Thank you for your account of your visit to Wroxton Abbey [the seat +of the Earl of Guilford]; it interested me very much; trees are not +to me, as they seem to be to you, the most striking and beautiful +of all natural objects, though I remember feeling a good deal of +pain at the cutting down of a particular tree that I was very fond +of.</p> + +<p>At the entrance of Weybridge was a deserted estate and dilapidated +mansion, Portmore Park, once a royal domain, through which the +river ran and where we used to go constantly to fish. There was a +remarkably beautiful cedar tree whose black boughs spread far over +the river, and whose powerful roots, knotted in every variety of +twist, formed a cradle from which the water had gradually washed +away the earth. Here I used to sit, or rather lie, reading, or +writing sometimes, while the others pursued their sport, and +enjoying the sound and sight of the sparkling water which ran +undermining my bed and singing treacherous lullabies to me the +while. For two years this tree was my favorite haunt; the third, on +our return to Weybridge from London, on my running to the +accustomed spot, I found the hitherto intercepted sun staring down +upon the water and the bank, and a broad, smooth, white <i>tabula +rasa</i> level with the mossy turf, which was all that remained of my +cedar canopy; and though it afforded an infinitely more commodious +seat than the twisted roots, I never returned there again.</p> + +<p>To-morrow we dine with the F——s, and there is to be a dance in +the evening; on Wednesday I act Constance; Thursday there is a +charade party at the M——s'; Friday I play Mrs. Beverley; and +Monday and Wednesday next, Camiola. I hope by and by to act Camiola +very well, but I am afraid the play itself can never become +popular; the size of the theater and the public taste of the +present day are both against such pieces; still, the attempt seemed +to me worth making, and if it <a name="Page_389" id="Page_389" ></a><span class="pagenum">[389]</span>should prove successful we might +revive one or two more of Massinger's plays; they are such sterling +stuff compared with the Isabellas, the Jane Shores, the everything +but Shakespeare. You saw in my journal what I think about Camiola. +I endeavor as much as I can to soften her, and if I can manage to +do so I shall like her better than any part I have played, except +my dear Portia, who does not need softening.</p> + +<p>I am too busy just now to read "Destiny" [Miss Ferrier's admirable +novel]; my new part and dresses and rehearsals will occupy me next +week completely. I have taken a new start about "The Star of +Seville" [the play I was writing], and am working away hard at it. +I begin to see my way through it. I wish I could make anything like +an acting play of it; we want one or two new ones so very much.</p> + +<p>My riding goes on famously, and Fozzard thinks so well of my +progress that the other day he put me upon a man's horse—an +Arab—which frightened me half to death with his high spirits and +capers; but I sat him, and what is more, rode him. Tuesday we go to +a very gay ball a little way out of town; Saturday we go to a party +at old Lady Cork's, who calls you Harriet and professes to have +known you well and to remember you perfectly.</p> + +<p>Now, H——, as to what you say of fishing, if you are bloody-minded +enough to desire to kill creatures for sport, in Heaven's name why +don't you do it? The sin lies in the inclination (by the bye, I +think that's <i>half</i> a mistake). Never mind, your inclination to +fish and my desire to be the tigress at the Zoological Gardens have +nothing whatever in common. I admire and envy the wild beast's +swiftness and strength, but if I had them I don't think I would +tear human beings to bits unless I were <i>she</i>, which was not what I +wished to be, only as strong and agile as she; do you see? I am in +a great hurry, dear, and have written you an inordinately stupid +letter; never mind, the next shall be inconceivably amusing. Just +now my head is stuffed full of amber-colored cashmere and white +satin. My mother begs to be kindly remembered to Mrs. Kemble. +Always affectionately yours,</p> + +<p class="signature">F. A. K.</p></div> + +<p>My determination to <i>soften</i> the character of Camiola is another +indication of my imperfect comprehension of my business as an actress, +which was not to reform but to represent certain personages. Massinger's +"Maid of Honor" is a stern woman, not without a very positive grain of +coarse hardness in <a name="Page_390" id="Page_390" ></a><span class="pagenum">[390]</span>her nature. My attempt to <i>soften</i> her was an +impertinent endeavor to alter his fine conception to something more in +harmony with my own ideal of womanly perfection. I was a very +indifferent actress and had not begun to understand my work, nor was Mr. +Macready far wrong when, many years after, he spoke to me as "not +knowing the rudiments of my profession."</p> + + +<h3>JOURNAL, 1831.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Thursday, April 21st.</i>—Walked in the square, and studied Lady +Teazle. The trees are thickly clothed with leaves, and the new-mown +grass, even in the midst of London, smelt fresh and sweet; I was +quite alone in the square, and enjoyed something like a <i>country</i> +sensation. I went to Pickersgill, and Mrs. Jameson came while I was +sitting to him; that Medora of his is a fine picture, full of +poetry. We dined with the Harnesses; Milman and Croly were among +the guests (it was a sort of <i>Quarterly Review</i> in the flesh). I +like Mr. Milman; not so the other critic.</p> + +<p><i>Friday, 22d.</i>—Visiting with my mother; called on Lady Dacre, who +gave me her pretty little piece of "Wednesday Morning," with a view +to our doing it for my father's benefit. It is really very pretty, +but I fear will look in our large theater as a lady's water-color +sketch of a landscape would by way of a scene. I walked in the +square in the afternoon, and studied Lady Teazle, which I do not +like a bit, and shall act abominably. At the theatre to-night the +house was not very full, and the audience were unpleasantly +inclined to be political; they took one of the speeches, "The king, +God bless him," and applied it with vehement applause to his worthy +Majesty, William IV.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday, 23d.</i>—After my riding lesson, went and sat in the +library to hear Sheridan Knowles's play of "The Hunchback." Mr. +Bartley and my father and mother were his only audience, and he +read it himself to us. A real play, with real characters, +individuals, human beings, it is a good deal after the fashion of +our old playwrights, and does not disgrace its models. I was +delighted with it; it is full of life and originality; a little +long, but that's a trifle. There is a want of clearness and +coherence in the plot, and the comic part has really no necessary +connection with the rest of the piece; but none of that will +signify much, or, I think, prevent it from succeeding. I like the +woman's part exceedingly, but am afraid I shall find it very +difficult to act.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391" ></a><span class="pagenum">[391]</span>After dinner there was a universal discussion as to the possibility +and probability of Adorni's self-sacrifice in "The Maid of Honor," +and as the female voices were unanimous in their verdict of its +truth and likelihood, I hold it to be likely and true, for Dante +says we have the "intellect of love," and Cherubino (a very +different kind of authority) says the same thing; and I suppose we +are better judges of such questions than men. The love of Adorni +seems to me, indeed, more like a woman's than a man's, but that +does not tell against its verisimilitude. Our love is characterized +generally by self-devotion and self-denial, but the qualities which +naturally belong to our affection were given to Adorni by his +social and conventional position. He was by birth and fortune +dependent on and inferior to Camiola, as women are by nature +dependent on and inferior to men; and so I think his love for her +has something of a feminine quality.</p> + +<p>In the evening went with my mother to a party at old Lady Cork's. +We started for our assembly within a few minutes of Sunday morning. +Such rooms—such ovens! such boxes full of fine folks and foul air! +in which we stood and sat, and looked and listened, and talked +nonsense and heard it talked, and perspired and smothered and +suffocated. On our arrival, as I was going upstairs, I was nearly +squeezed flat against the wall by her potent grace, the Duchess of +St. Albans. We remained half an hour in the steaming atmosphere of +the drawing-rooms, and another half-hour in the freezing hall +before the carriage could be brought up; caught a dreadful cold and +came home; did not get to bed till two o'clock, with an intolerable +face-ache and tooth-ache, the well-earned reward of a well-spent +evening.</p></div> + +<p>[The career of the Duchess of St. Albans was, as far as worldly +circumstances went, a curious one. As Miss Mellon she was one of my +mother's stage contemporaries; a kind-hearted, good-humored, buxom, +rather coarse actress, with good looks, and good spirits of a somewhat +unrefined sort, which were not without their admirers; among these the +old banker, Mr. Coutts, married her, and dying, left her the sole +possessor and disposer of his enormous wealth. My mother, who had always +remained on friendly though not intimate terms with her old stage-mate, +went to see her in the early days of her widowhood, when Mrs. Coutts +gave her this moderate estimate of her "money matters:" "Ah, I assure +you, dear Mrs. Charles, the reports of what poor, dear Mr. Coutts has +left me are very much exaggerated—not, I really believe, more than a +few hundred <a name="Page_392" id="Page_392" ></a><span class="pagenum">[392]</span>thousand pounds. To be sure" (after a dejected pause), +"there's the bank—they say about fifty thousand a year."</p> + +<p>This small fortune and inconsiderable income proved sufficient to the +moderate desires of the young Duke of St. Albans, who married this +destitute widow, who thenceforth took her place (and a large one) in the +British aristocracy, and chaperoned the young Ladies Beauclerc, her +husband's sisters, in society. She was a good-natured woman, and more +than once endeavored to get my father and mother to bring me to her +balls and magnificent parties. This, however, they steadily declined, +and she, without resenting it, sent her invitations to my youngest +brother alone, to whom she took a great fancy, and to whose accepting +her civilities no objection was made. At her death she left her great +wealth to Mr. Coutts's granddaughter, Miss Burdett Coutts, the lady +whose excellent use of her riches has made her known all over the world +as one of the most munificently charitable of Fortune's stewards.</p> + +<p>The Duchess of St. Albans was not without shrewd sense and some humor, +though entirely without education, and her sallies were not always in +the best possible taste. Her box at Covent Garden could be approached +more conveniently by crossing the stage than by the entrance from the +front of the house, and she sometimes availed herself of this easier +exit to reach her carriage with less delay. One night when my father had +been acting Charles II., the Duchess of St. Albans crossing her old +work-ground, the stage, with her two companions, the pretty Ladies +Beauclerc, stopped to shake hands with him (he was still in his stage +costume, having remained behind the scenes to give some orders), and +presenting him to her young ladies, said, "There, my dears; there's your +ancestor." I suppose in her earlier day she might not have been a bad +representative of their "ancestress."]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Monday, April 25th.</i>—Finished studying Lady Teazle. In the +evening at the theater the house was good, but the audience was +dull and I was in wretched spirits and played very ill.</p> + +<p>Dall was saying that she thought in two years of hard work we +might—that is, my father and myself—earn enough to enable us to +live in the south of France. This monstrous theater and its +monstrous liabilities will banish us all as it did my uncle Kemble. +But that I should be sorry to live so far out of the reach of +H——, I think the south of France would be a pleasant abode: a +delicious climate, a quiet existence, a less artificial state of +society and mode of life, a picturesque nature round me, and my own +dear ones and my scribbling with me—I think <a name="Page_393" id="Page_393" ></a><span class="pagenum">[393]</span>with all these +conditions I could be happy enough in the south of France or +anywhere.</p> + +<p>The audience were very politically inclined, applied all the loyal +speeches with fervor, and called for "God save the King" after the +play. The town is illuminated, too, and one hopes and prays that +the "Old Heart of Oak" will weather these evil days, but sometimes +the straining of the tackle and the creaking of the timbers are +suggestive of foundering even to the most hopeful. The lords have +been vindicating their claim to a share in <i>common</i> humanity by +squabbling like fishwives and all but coming to blows; the bishops +must have been scared and scandalized, lords spiritual not being +fighting men nowadays.</p> + +<p>After the play Mr. Stewart Newton, the painter, supped with us—a +clever, entertaining man and charming artist; a little bit of a +dandy, but probably he finds it politic to be so. He told us some +comical anecdotes about the Royal Academy and the hanging of the +pictures.</p> + +<p>The poor, dear king [William IV.], who it seems knows as much about +painting as <i>una vacca spagnuola</i>, lets himself, his family, and +family animals be painted by whoever begs to be allowed that honor. +So when the pictures were all hung the other day, somebody +discovered in a wretched daub close to the ceiling a portrait of +Lady Falkland [the king's daughter], and another of his Majesty's +favorite <i>cat</i>, which were immediately <i>lowered</i> to a more +honorable position, to accomplish which desirable end, Sir William +Beechey [then president of the academy] removed some of his own +paintings. On a similar occasion during the late King George IV.'s +life, a wretched portrait of him having been placed in one of the +most conspicuous situations in the room, the Duke of Wellington and +sundry other distinguished <i>cognoscenti</i> complimented Sir Thomas +Lawrence on it <i>as his</i>; this was rather a bitter pill, and must +have been almost too much for Lawrence's courtierly equanimity.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, April 27th.</i>—To the riding school, where Miss +Cavendish and I discoursed on the <i>stay-at-home</i> sensation, and +agreed that it is bad to encourage it too far, as one may narrow +one's social circle till at last it resolves itself into <i>one's +self</i>.</p> + +<p>Wrote to thank Dr. Thackeray [provost of King's College, Cambridge, +and father of my life-long friend A—— T——] for the Shakespeare +he has sent me, and Lady Dacre for her piece of "Wednesday +Morning." In the evening they all drove out in the open carriage to +see the illuminations; I stayed at home, for the carriage was full +and I had no curiosity about <a name="Page_394" id="Page_394" ></a><span class="pagenum">[394]</span>the sight. The town is one blaze of +rejoicing for the Reform Bill triumph; the streets are thronged +with people and choked up with carriages, and the air is flashing +and crashing with rockets and squibs and crackers, to the great +discomfort of the horses. So many R's everywhere that they may +stand for reform, revolution, ruin, just as those who run may +choose to read, or according to the interpretation of every +individual's politics; the most general acceptation in which they +will be taken by the popular understanding will assuredly be <i>row</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Friday, 29th.</i>—Went off to rehearsal without any breakfast, which +was horrible! but not so horrible as my performance of Lady Teazle +promises to be. If I do the part according to my notion, it will be +mere insipidity, and yet all the traditional pokes and pats with +the fan and <i>business</i> of the part, as it is called, is so +perfectly unnatural to me that I fear I shall execute it with a +doleful bad grace. It seems odd that Sir Peter always wears the +dress of the last century, while the costume of the rest of the +<i>dramatis personæ</i> is quite modern. Indeed, mine is a ball dress of +the present day, all white satin and puffs and clouds of white +tulle, and garlands and wreaths of white roses and jasmine; it is +very anomalous, and makes Lady Teazle of no date, as it were, for +her mariners are those of a rustic belle of seventeen hundred and +something, and her costume that of a fine lady of the present day +in the height of the present fashion, which is absurd.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jameson paid me a long visit; she threatens to write a play; +perhaps she might; she is very clever, has a vast fund of +information, a good deal of experience, and knowledge and +observation of the world and society. She wanted me to have spent +the evening with her on the 23d, Shakespeare's birth and death day, +an anniversary all English people ought to celebrate. Lady Dacre +called, in some tribulation, to say that she had committed herself +about her little piece of "Wednesday Morning," and that Lady +Salisbury, who wants it for Hatfield, does not like its being +brought out on the stage.</p> + +<p>Lady Dacre says Lady Salisbury is "afraid of comparisons" (between +herself and me, in the part), <i>I</i> think Lady Salisbury, would not +like "our play" to be made "common and unclean" by vulgar +publicity. In the evening I went to the theater to see a new comedy +by a Spaniard. The house was literally empty, which was encouraging +to all parties. The piece is slightly constructed in point of plot, +but the dialogue is admirably written, and, as the work of a +foreigner, perfectly surprising. I was introduced to Don Telesforo +de Trueba, <a name="Page_395" id="Page_395" ></a><span class="pagenum">[395]</span>the author, an ugly little young man, all hair and +glare, whiskers and spectacles; he must be very clever and well +worth knowing, Mr. Harness took tea with us after the play.</p></div> + +<p>[The comedy, in five acts, of "The Exquisites" was a satirical piece +showing up the ridiculous assumption of affected indifference of the +young dandies of the day. The special airs of impertinence by which +certain officers of a "crack" regiment distinguished themselves had +suggested several of the most telling points of the play, which was in +every respect a most remarkable performance for a foreigner.]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Saturday, April 30th.</i>—Received a letter from John; he has +determined not to leave Spain at present; and were he to return, +what is there for him to do here? In the evening to Mrs. C——'s +ball; it was very gay, but I am afraid I am turning "exquisite," +for I didn't like the music, and my partners bored me, and the +dancing tired me, and my journal is getting like K——'s head—full +of naked facts, unclothed with a single thought.</p> + +<p><i>Sunday, May 1st.</i>—As sulky a day as ever <i>glouted</i> in an English +sky. The "young morn" came picking her way from the east, leading +with her a dripping, draggled May, instead of Milton's glorious +vision.</p> + +<p>After church, sundry callers: Mr. C—— bringing prints of the +dresses for "Hernani," and the W——s, who seem in a dreadful +fright about the present state of the country. I do not suppose +they would like to see Heaton demolished.</p> + +<p>In the evening we went to the Cartwrights'. It is only in the +morning that one goes there to be tortured; in the evening it is to +eat delicious dinners and hear delightful music.</p> + +<p>Hummel, Moscheles, Neukomm, Horsley, and Sir George Smart, and how +they did play! <i>à l'envi l'un de l'autre</i>. They sang, too, that +lovely glee, "By Celia's Arbor." The thrilling shudder which sweet +music sends through one's whole frame is a species of acute +pleasure, very nearly akin to pain. I wonder if by any chance there +is a point at which the two are one and the same thing!</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday, May 3d.</i>—I wrote the fourth scene of the fifth act of my +play ["The Star of Seville"], and acted Lady Teazle for the first +time; the house was very good, and my performance, as I expected, +very bad; I was as flat as a lady amateur. I stayed after the play +to hear Braham sing "Tom Tug," which was a refreshment to my spirit +after my own acting; after I came home, finished the fifth act of +"The Star of Seville." <a name="Page_396" id="Page_396" ></a><span class="pagenum">[396]</span>"Joy, joy for ever, my task is done!" I have +not the least idea, though, that "heaven is won."</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, May 4th.</i>—A delightful dinner at the B——s', but in +the evening a regular crush; however, if one is to be squeezed to +death (though 'tis an abolished form of torture), it may as well be +in good company, among the fine world, and lots of pleasant people +besides: Milman, Sotheby, Lockhart, Sir Augustus Calcott, Harness, +Lady Dacre, Joanna Baillie, Lady Calcott, etc.</p> + +<p><i>Friday, May 6th.</i>—Real March weather: cold, piercing, damp, +wretched, in spite of which I carried Shakespeare to walk with me +in the square, and read all over again for the fiftieth time all +the conjectures of everybody about him and his life. How little we +know <i>about him</i>, how intimately we seem to know <i>him</i>! I had the +square all to myself, and it was delicious: lilac, syringa, +hawthorn, lime blossoms, and new-mown grass in the midst of +London—and Shakespeare to think about. How grateful I felt for so +much enjoyment! When I got home, corrected the proof-sheets of +"Francis I.," and thought it looked quite pretty in print.</p> + +<p>Out so late dancing, Wednesday and Thursday nights, or rather +<i>mornings</i>, that I had no time for journal-writing. What a life I +do lead!</p> + +<p><i>Friday, May 13th.</i>—At twelve o'clock to Bridgewater House for our +first rehearsal of "Hernani." Lady Francis wants us to go down to +them at Oatlands. I should like of all things to see Weybridge once +more; there's many a nook and path in those woods that I know +better than their owners. The rehearsal lasted till three, and was +a tolerably tidy specimen of amateur acting. Mr. Craven is really +very good, and I shall like to act with him very much, and Mr. St. +Aubin is very fair. Was introduced to Mrs. Bradshaw, whose looks +rather disappointed me, because she "did contrive to make herself +look so beautiful" on the stage, in Clari and Mary Copp and +everything she did; I suppose her exquisite acting got into her +face, somehow. Henry Greville is delightful, and I like him very +much. When we left Bridgewater House we drove to my aunt Siddons's. +Every time I see that magnificent ruin some fresh decay makes +itself apparent in it, and one cannot but feel that it must soon +totter to its fall.</p> + +<p>What a price she has paid for her great celebrity!—weariness, +vacuity, and utter deadness of spirit. The cup has been so highly +flavored that life is absolutely without savor or sweetness to her +now, nothing but tasteless insipidity. She has <a name="Page_397" id="Page_397" ></a><span class="pagenum">[397]</span>stood on a pinnacle +till all things have come to look flat and dreary; mere shapeless, +colorless, level monotony to her. Poor woman! what a fate to be +condemned to, and yet how she has been envied, as well as admired!</p> + +<p>After dinner had only just time to go over my part and drive to the +theater. My dear, delightful Portia! The house was good, but the +audience dull, and I acted dully to suit them; but I hope my last +dress, which was beautiful, consoled them. What with sham business +and real business, I have had a busy day.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday, May 14th.</i>—Received a note from Theodosia [Lady +Monson], and a whole cargo of delicious flowers from Cassiobury. +She writes me that poor old Foster [an old cottager who lived in +Lord Essex's park and whom my friend and I used to visit] is dying. +The last I saw of that "Old Mortality" was sitting with him one +bright sunset under his cottage porch, singing to him and dressing +his hat with flowers, poor old man! yet after walking this earth +upward of ninety-seven years the spirit as well as the flesh must +be weary. His cottage will lose half its picturesqueness without +his figure at the door; I wonder who will take care now of the +roses he was so fond of, and the pretty little garden I used to +forage in for lilies of the valley and strawberries! I shall never +see him again, which makes me sad; I was often deeply struck by the +quaint wisdom of that old human relic, and his image is associated +in my thoughts with evening walks and summer sunsets and lovely +flowers and lordly trees, and he will haunt Cassiobury always to +me. I went with my mother to buy my dresses for "Hernani," which +will cost me a fortune and a half.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, Saturday.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>You see I have taken your advice, and, moreover, your paper, in +order that, in spite of the dispersion of Parliament and the +unattainability of franks, our correspondence may lose nothing in +bulk, though it must in frequency. I think you are behaving very +shabbily in not writing to me. Are you consulting your own +pleasure, or my purse? I dedicate so much of my income to purposes +which go under the head of "money thrown away;" don't you think the +cost of our correspondence may be added to that without seriously +troubling my conscience? What shall I say to you? "Reform" is on +the tip of my pen, and great as are our private matters of anxiety, +they scarcely outweigh in our minds the national interest that is +en<a name="Page_398" id="Page_398" ></a><span class="pagenum">[398]</span>grossing almost every thinking person throughout the country. You +know I am no politician, and my shallow causality and want of +adequate information alike unfit me from understanding, much less +discussing, public questions of great importance; but the present +crisis has aroused me to intense interest and anxiety about the +course events are taking. You can have no conception of the state +of excitement prevailing in London at this moment. The scene in the +House of Lords immediately preceding the dissolution the papers +will have described to you, though if the spectators and +participators in it may be believed, the tumult, the disorder, the +Billingsgate uproar on that occasion would not be easy to describe. +Lord Londonderry, it seems, thought that the days of <i>faust-recht</i> +had come back again, and I fancy more than he are of that opinion.</p> + +<p>An illumination was immediately ordered by the Lord Mayor Donkin +(or <i>key</i>, as "t'other side" call him); but, owing to the shortness +of the notice he gave, it seems the show of light was not +satisfactory to the tallow chandler part of the population, so +another was appointed two nights after. My mother and the two +Harrys went out in the open carriage to drive through the streets. +I was depressed and disinclined for sight-seeing, and did not go, +which I regretted afterward, as all strong exhibitions of public +feeling are curious and interesting. They say the crowd was immense +in all the principal thoroughfares, and of the lowest order. They +testified their approbation of the various illuminated devices by +shouts and hurrahs and applause; their displeasure against the +various non-illuminators was more violently manifested by assailing +their houses and breaking their windows.</p> + +<p>Sundry were the glass sacrifices offered at the shrine of +consistent Tory patriotism at the West End of the town. The mottoes +and sentences on some of the illuminations were noteworthy for +their democratic flavor: "The king and the people," "The people of +England," "The glorious dissolution," "The glorious reform," "The +people and the press," "The people's triumph." A man who seemed by +his dress to belong to the very lowest class (a cross apparently +between a scavenger and a rag-seller), with a branch of laurel +waving in his tattered hat, stopped before this last sentence and +exclaimed, "No—they don't yet; but they will."</p> + +<p>I have been having quite a number of holidays at the theater +lately. They have brought out a comedy in which I do not play, and +are going to bring out a sort of historical melodrama on the life +of Bonaparte, so that I think I shall have easy work, <a name="Page_399" id="Page_399" ></a><span class="pagenum">[399]</span>if that +succeeds, for the rest of the season. I have just finished +correcting the proof-sheets of "Francis I.," and think it looks +quite pretty in print, and have dedicated it to my mother, which I +hope will please her....</p> + +<p>Dear H——, this is Saturday, the 14th, and 'tis now exactly three +weeks since I began this letter. I know not what you will think of +this, but, indeed, I am almost worn out with the ceaseless +occupations of one sort and another that are crowded into every +day, and the impossibility of commanding one hour's quiet out of +the twenty-four....</p> + +<p>I am afraid we shall not come to Ireland this summer, after all, my +dear H——. The Dublin manager and my father have not come to +terms, and I hear Miss Inverarity (a popular singer) is engaged +there, so that I conclude we shall not act there this season. This +is so great a disappointment to me that I cannot say anything +whatever about it. I have been acting Lady Teazle for Mr. Bartley +and my father's benefit. It seems to have pleased the public very +well. Without caring for it much myself, I find it light and +amusing work, and much easier for me than Lady Townley, because it +is a natural and that an entirely artificial character; the whole +tone and manners, too, of Sheridan's rustic belle are much more +within my scope than those of the woman of fashion of Sir John +Vanbrugh's play.</p> + +<p>On Friday we had our first rehearsal of "Hernani," at Bridgewater +House, and I was greatly surprised with some of the acting, which, +allowing for a little want of technical experience, was, in Mr. +Craven's instance, really very good. He is the grandson of old Lady +Craven, the Margravine of Anspach, and enacts the hero of the +piece, which I think he will do very well. The whole play, I think, +will be fairly acted for an amateur performance. Lord and Lady +Francis have pressed my mother very much to go down for a little +while to Oatlands, the beautiful place close to Weybridge, which +belonged to the Duke of York, and of which they have taken a lease. +My mother has accepted their invitation, and looks forward with +great pleasure to revisiting her dear Weybridge. I know a good deal +more of that lovely neighborhood and all its wild haunts than the +present proprietors of Oatlands. Lady Francis is a famous +horsewoman, and told me by way of inducement to go there that we +would gallop all over the country together, which sounded very +pleasant....</p> + +<p>I called on my aunt Siddons the other day, and was shocked to find +her looking wretchedly ill; she has not yet got rid of the +erysipelas in her legs, and complained of intense headache. <a name="Page_400" id="Page_400" ></a><span class="pagenum">[400]</span>Poor +woman! she suffers dreadfully.... Cecilia's life has been one +enduring devotion and self-sacrifice. I cannot help wishing, for +both their sakes, that the period of her mother's infirmity and +physical decay may be shortened. I received a charming letter from +Theodosia yesterday, accompanying a still more charming basketful +of delicious flowers from dear Cassiobury—how much nicer they are +than human beings! I don't believe I belong to man (or woman) kind, +I like so many things—the whole material universe, for +example—better than what one calls one's fellow-creatures. She +told me that old Foster (you remember the old cottager in +Cassiobury Park) was dying. The news contrasted sadly with the +sweet, fresh, living blossoms that it came with. The last time that +I saw that old man I sat with him under his porch on a bright sunny +evening, talking, laughing, winding wreaths round his hat, and +singing to him, and that is the last I shall ever see of him. He +was a remarkable old man, and made a strong impression on my fancy +in the course of our short acquaintance. There was a strong and +vivid <i>remnant</i> of mind in him surviving the contest with ninety +and odd years of existence; his manner was quaint and rustic +without a tinge of vulgarity; he is fastened to my memory by a +certain wreath of flowers and sunset light upon the brook that ran +in front of his cottage, and the smell of some sweet roses that +grew over it, and I shall never forget him.</p> + +<p>I went to the opera the other night and saw Pasta's "Medea" for the +first time. I shall not trouble you with any ecstasies, because, +luckily for you, my admiration for her is quite indescribable; but +I have seen grace and majesty as perfect as I can conceive, and so +saying I close my account of my impressions. I fancied I was +slightly disappointed in Taglioni, whose dancing followed Pasta's +singing, but I suppose the magnificent tragical performance I had +just witnessed had numbed as it were my power of appreciation of +her grace and elegance, and yet she seemed to me like a <i>dancing +flower</i>; so you see I must have like her very much.</p> + +<p>God bless you, dear; pray write to me very soon. I want some +consolation for not seeing you, nor the dear girls, nor the sea. I +could think of that fresh, sparkling, fresh looking, glassy sea +till I cried for disappointment.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Ever yours, </p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p></div> + +<p>The Miss Inverarity mentioned in this letter was a young <a name="Page_401" id="Page_401" ></a><span class="pagenum">[401]</span>Scotch singer +of very remarkable talent and promise, who came out at Covent Garden +just at this time. She was one of the tallest women I ever saw, and had +a fine soprano voice as high as herself, and sang English music well. +She was a very great favorite during the short time that I remember her +on the stage.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="salutation"><span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>,</p> + +<p>My mother has just requested me to talk with A—— about her +approaching first communion, and it troubles me because I fear I +cannot do so satisfactorily to her (I mean my mother) and myself. I +think my feeling about the sacrament, or rather the preparation +necessary for receiving it, is different from hers. It is not so +much to me an awful as a merciful institution. One goes to the +Lord's Table because one is weak and wicked and wretched, not +because one is, or even has striven to be, otherwise. A holy +reverence for the holy rite is indispensable, but not, I think, +such a feeling as would chill us with fear, or cast us down in +despondency. The excess of our poverty and humility is our best +claim to it, and therefore, though the previous "preparations," as +it is rather technically called, may be otherwise beneficial, it +does not seem to me necessary, much less indispensable. Our Lord +did not say, "Cleanse yourselves, amend yourselves, strip +yourselves of your own burdens and come to me;" but, "Come to me +and I will cleanse you, I will cure you, I will help you and give +you rest." It is remembering this that I venture to take the +sacrament, but I know other people, and I believe my mother among +them, think a much more specific preparation necessary, and I am +afraid, therefore, that I might not altogether meet my mother's +views in what I might say to A—— upon the subject. I wish you +would tell me what your opinion and feeling is about this.</p> + +<p class="yours">Your affectionate F. A. K.</p> + +<p class="gap"><i>Sunday, May 15th.</i>—Walked home from church with Mrs. Montagu and +Emily and Mrs. Procter, discussing among various things the +necessity for "preparation" before taking the sacrament. I suppose +the publican in the parable had not prepared his prayer, and I +suppose he would have been a worthy communicant.</p> + +<p>They came in and sat a long time with my mother talking about Sir +Thomas Lawrence, of whom she spoke as a perfect riddle. I think he +was a dangerous person, because his experience and genius made him +delightfully attractive, and the dexterity of his flattery amounted +in itself to a fine art. The talk then fell upon the possibility of +friendship existing between men and women without sooner or later +degenerating, on one part or the other, into love. The French +rhymster sings—</p><p><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402" ></a><span class="pagenum">[402]</span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Trop tot, hélas, l'amour s'enflamme,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Et je sens qu'il est mal aisé;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Que l'ami d'une belle dame,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ne soit un amant déguisé."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>My father came in while the ladies were still here, and Mrs. +Procter behaved admirably well about her husband's play....</p> + +<p>I do think it is too bad of the management to have made use of my +name in rejecting that piece, when, Heaven knows, so far from +<i>rejecting</i>, I never even <i>object</i> to anything I am bidden to do; +that is, never visibly or audibly....</p> + +<p>Mrs. P—— called, and the talk became political and lugubriously +desponding, and I suddenly found myself inspired with a +contradictory vein of hopefulness, and became vehement in its +defense. In spite of all the disastrous forebodings I constantly +have, I cannot but trust that the spread of enlightenment and +general progress of intelligence in the people of this country—the +good judgment of those who have power and the moderation of those +who desire improvement—will effect a change without a <i>crash</i> and +achieve reform without revolution.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, May 18th.</i>—My mother and I started at two o'clock for +Oatlands. The day was very enjoyable, for the dust and mitigated +east wind were in our backs; the carriage was open, and the sun was +almost too powerful, though the earth has not yet lost its first +spring freshness, nor the trees, though full fledged, their early +vivid green. The turf has not withered with the heat, and the +hawthorn lay thick and fragrant on every hedge, like snow that the +winter had forgotten to melt, and the sky above was bright and +clear, and I was very happy. I had taken "The Abbot" with me, which +I had never read; but my mother did not sleep, so we chatted +instead of my reading. She recalled all our former times at +Weybridge. It was a great pleasure to retrace this well-known road, +and again to see dear old Walton Bridge and the bright, broad +Thames, with the noble chestnut trees on its banks, the smooth, +smiling fields stretching beyond it, and the swans riding in such +happy majesty on its bosom. I really think I do deserve to live in +the country, it is so <i>delightsome</i> to me. We <a name="Page_403" id="Page_403" ></a><span class="pagenum">[403]</span>reached Oatlands an +hour before dinner-time and found the party just returned from +riding. We sauntered through part of the grounds to the cemetery of +the Duchess of York's dogs.... We had some music in the evening. +Lady Francis sang and I sang, and was frightened to death, as I +always am when asked to do so....</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, 19th.</i>—A bright sunny morning, the trees all bowing and +bending, and the water chafing and crisping under a fresh, strong, +but not cold, wind. I lost my way in the park and walked toward +Walton, thinking I was going to Weybridge, but, discovering my +mistake, turned about, and crossing the whole park came out upon +the common and our old familiar cricketing ground. I flew along the +dear old paths to our little cottage, but "Desolate was the +dwelling of Morna"—the house closed, the vine torn down, the grass +knee-deep, the shrubs all trailing their branches and blossoms in +disorderly luxuriance on the earth, the wire fence broken down +between the garden and the wood, the gate gone; the lawn was sown +with wheat, and the little pine wood one tangled maze, without +path, entrance, or issue. I ran up the mound to where John used to +stand challenging the echo with his bugle....</p> + +<p>O tempo passato!—the absent may return and the distant be brought +near, the dead be raised and in another world rejoin us, but a day +that is gone is gone, and all eternity can give us back no single +minute of the past! I gathered a rose and some honeysuckle from the +poor disheveled shrubs for my mother, and ran back to Oatlands to +breakfast. After breakfast we went over "Hernani," with Mrs. +Sullivan for prompter, and when that was over everybody went out +walking; but I was too tired with my morning's tramp, and sat under +a tree on the lawn reading a very good little book on the +sacrament, which went over the ground of my late discussion with +Mrs. Montagu and Mrs. Procter on the subject of "preparation" for +taking it.</p> + +<p>After lunch there was a general preparation for riding, and just as +we were all mounted it began to rain, and persevered till, in +despair, Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan rode off without our promised +escort. Mr. C—— arrived just as we had disequipped, and the +gentlemen all dispersed. Lady Francis and I sang together for some +time, and suddenly the clouds withholding their tears, she and I, +in one of those instants of rapid determination which sometimes +make or mar a fate, tore on our habits again, jumped on our horses, +and galloped off together over the park. We had an enchanting, +gray, soft afternoon, with now and then a rain-drop and sigh of +wind, like the <a name="Page_404" id="Page_404" ></a><span class="pagenum">[404]</span>last sob of a fit of crying. The earth smelt +deliriously fresh, and shone one glittering, sparkling, vivid +green. Our ride was delightful, and we galloped back just in time +to dress for dinner.</p> + +<p>In the evening, sauntering on the lawn and pleasant, bright talk +indoors. Lord John (the present venerable Earl Russell) would be +quite charming if he wasn't so afraid of the rain. I do not think +he is made of sugar, but, politically, perhaps he is the salt of +the earth; he certainly succeeds in keeping himself <i>dry</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Friday, Oatlands.</i>—Walked out before breakfast; the night's rain +had refreshed the earth and revived every growing thing, the east +wind had blown itself away, and a warm, delicious western breeze +came fluttering fitfully over the new-mown lawn. After breakfast we +rehearsed Mr. Craven's and Captain Shelley's and my scenes in +"Hernani." I think they will do very well if they do not shy at the +moment of action, or rather acting. We had some music, and then the +gentlemen went out shooting. I took "The Abbot" and established +myself on a hay-cock, leaving Lady Francis to her own indoor +devices. By and by the whole party came out, and we sat on the lawn +laughing and talking till the gentlemen's carriage was announced, +and our rival heroes took their departure for town, cheek by jowl, +in a pretty equipage of Mr. Craven's, in the most amicable mood +imaginable. As soon as they were off we mounted and rode out, past +our old cottage, down by Brooklands, through the second wood, and +by the Fairies' Oak. O Lord King, Lord King (we were riding through +the property of the Earl of Lovelace, then Lord King), if I was one +of those bishops whom you do not love, I would curse, +excommunicate, and anathematize you for cutting down all those +splendid trees and laying bare those deep, dark, leafy nooks, the +haunts of a thousand "Midsummer Night's Dreams," to the common air +and the staring sun. The sight of the dear old familiar paths +brought the tears to my eyes, for, stripped and thinned of their +trees and robbed of their beauty, my memory restored all their +former loveliness. On we went down to Byefleet to the mill, to +Langton's through the sweet, turfy meadows, by hawthorn hedges +musical as sweet, over the picturesque little bridge and along that +deep, dark, sleepy water flowing so silently in its sullen +smoothness. On we went a long way over a wide common, where the +coarse-grained peaty earth and golden glory of the flowering gorse +reminded me of Suffolk's motto—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<a name="Page_405" id="Page_405" ></a><span class="pagenum">[405]</span> +<span class="i0">"Cloth of gold, do not despise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thou art mix'd with cloth of frieze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cloth of frieze, be not too bold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thou art mix'd with cloth of gold."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Back by St. George's Hill, snatching many a leaf and blossom as I +rode to carry back to A—— mementoes of our dear Weybridge days, +and so home by half-past seven, just time to dress for dinner. As +we rode along, Lord Francis and I discussed poets and poetry <i>in +general</i>—more particularly Byron, Keats, and Shelley; it was a +very pretty and proper discourse for such a ride.</p> + +<p>In the evening heard all manner of delicious ghost stories; +afterward made music, Lady Francis and I trying all sorts of duets, +my mother keeping up a "humming" third and Lord Francis listening +and applauding with equal zeal and discretion....</p> + +<p><i>Saturday, May 21st.</i>—My brother John come home from Spain....</p> + +<p><i>Sunday, 22d.</i>—What a very odd process dreaming is! I <i>dreamt</i> in +the night that John had come home, and flung myself out of bed in +my sleep to run downstairs to him, which naturally woke me; and +then I remembered that he was come home and that I had seen and +welcomed him, which it seems to me I might as well have dreamed too +while I was about it, and saved myself the jump out of bed. I hate +dreaming; it's like being mad—having one's brain work without the +control of one's will.</p> + +<p>Dear A—— took the sacrament for the first time at the Swiss +church. On my return from church in the afternoon found Sir Ralph +and Lady Hamilton and Don Telesforo de Trueba. I like that young +Spaniard; he's a clever man. It was such fun his telling me all the +story of the Star of Seville, little imagining I had just +perpetrated a five-act tragedy on that identical subject.</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday, May 24th.</i>—Drove down to Clint's studio to see Cecilia's +(Siddons's) portrait. It's a pretty picture of a "fine piece of a +woman," as the Italians say, but it has none of the very decided +character of her face....</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, May 25th.</i>—After dinner went over my part, dressed and +set off for Bridgewater House for our dressed rehearsal of +"Hernani." Found the stage in a state of <i>unfinish</i>, the house +topsy-turvy, and every body to the right and left. Sat for an hour +in the drawing-room while our very specially small and select +audience arrived. Then heard Lady Francis, <a name="Page_406" id="Page_406" ></a><span class="pagenum">[406]</span>Henry Greville, Mrs. +Bradshaw, and Mr. Mitford try their glee—one of Moore's melodies +arranged for four voices—which they sang at the top of their lungs +in order to hear themselves, while the carpenters and joiners +hammered might and main at the other end of the gallery finishing +the theater.</p> + +<p>About nine they were getting under way, and we presently began the +rehearsal. The dresses were all admirable; they (not the clothes, +but the clothes pegs) were all horribly frightened. I was a little +nervous and rather sad, and I felt strange among all those foolish +lads, taking such immense delight in that which gives me so very +little, dressing themselves up and acting. To be sure, "nothing +pleaseth but rare accidents." Mr. M——, our prompter, thought fit +by way of prompting to keep up a rumbling bass accompaniment to our +speaking by reading every word of the play aloud, as the singers +are prompted at the opera house, which did not tend much to our +assistance. Everything went very smoothly till an unlucky young +"mountaineer" rushed on the stage and terrified me and Hernani half +to death by <i>in</i>articulating some horrible intelligence of the +utmost importance to us, which his fright rendered quite +incomprehensible. He stood with his arms wildly spread abroad, +stuttering, sputtering, madly ejaculating and gesticulating, but +not one articulate word could he get out. I thought I should have +exploded with laughter, but as the woman said who saw the murder, +"I knew I mustn't (faint), and I didn't." With this trifling +exception it all went off very well. Either I was fagged with my +morning's ride or the constitution of the gallery is bad for the +voice; I never felt so exhausted with the mere effort of speaking, +and thought I should have died prematurely and in earnest in the +last scene, I was so tired. When it was over we adjourned with Lord +and Lady Francis and the whole <i>dramatis personæ</i> to Mrs. W——'s +magnificent house and splendid supper....</p> + +<p>While we were at table everybody suddenly stood up, my mother and +myself reverently with the rest, when the whole company drank my +health, and I collapsed down into my chair as red and as <i>limp</i> as +a skein of scarlet wool, and my mother with some confusion +expressed my obligation and her own surprise at the compliment. I +talked a good deal to Captain Shelley, who is a nice lad, and, +considering his beauty, and the admiration bestowed on him by all +the fine ladies in London, remarkably unaffected. We are asked down +to Oaklands again, and I hope my work at the theater will allow of +my going. What a shocking mess those young gentlemen actors did +make <a name="Page_407" id="Page_407" ></a><span class="pagenum">[407]</span>of their greenroom this evening, to be sure! rouge, swords, +wine, mustaches, soda water, and cloaks strewed in every direction. +I wonder what they would say to the drawing-room decorum of our +Covent Garden greenroom.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, May 26th.</i>—Tried on dresses with Mrs. Phillips, and +talked all the while about the characteristics of Shakespeare's +women with Mrs. Jameson, who had come to see me. I pity her from +the bottom of my heart; she has a heavy burden to carry, poor +woman.... Went in the evening to rather a dull dinner, after which, +however, I had the pleasure of hearing Mrs. Frere sing, which she +did very charmingly, and so as quite to justify her great society +musical reputation. After our dinner at the F——s' we went to Mrs. +W——'s evening party, where I sat alone, heard somebody sing a +song, was introduced to a man, spoke incoherently to several +people, got up, was much jostled in a crowd of human beings, and +came home—and that's society. We are asked to a great supper at +Chesterfield House, after a second representation which is to be +given of "Hernani." My mother thinks it is too much exertion and +dissipation for me, and as it is not a ball I do not care to go.</p> + +<p><i>Friday, May 27th.</i>—At eight o'clock drove with my mother to +Bridgewater House. We went into the library, where there was +nobody, and Lady Francis, Henry Greville, and Lady Charlotte came +and sat with us. I was literally crying with fright. Lady Francis +took me to my dressing-room, my mother rouged me, blessed me, and +went off to join the audience assembled in the great gallery. I +went over my part once and my room a hundred times in every +direction. At nine they began; the audience very wisely were +totally in the dark, which threw out the brilliantly illuminated +stage to great advantage, and considering that they were the finest +folk in England they behaved remarkably well—listened quietly and +attentively, and applauded like Covent Garden galleries. It all +went well except poor Mr. Craven's first speech, in which he got +out. I don't know whether Lady L—— was among the spectators, and +gave him <i>des éblouissements</i>. It all went off admirably, however, +and oh, how glad I was when it was over!</p> + +<p><i>Saturday, May 28th.</i>—I was awakened by a basket of flowers from +Cassiobury, and a letter from Theodosia. Old Foster is dead. I wish +he might be buried near the cottage. I should like to know where to +think of his resting-place, poor old man!...</p> + +<p>In the evening Mrs. Jameson, the Fitzhughs, R—— P——, <a name="Page_408" id="Page_408" ></a><span class="pagenum">[408]</span>and a Mr. +K——, a friend of John's, and sundry and several came.... We acted +charades, and they all went away in high good humor.</p> + +<p><i>Sunday, May 29th.</i>—An "eternal, cursed, cold, and heavy rain," as +Dante sings. My mother, A——, and I went to the Swiss church; the +service is shorter and more unceremonious than I like; that sitting +to sing God's praise, and standing to pray to Him, is displeasing +to all my instincts of devotion.</p> + +<p>After church my mother was reading Milton's treatise on Christian +doctrine, and read portions of it aloud to me. I always feel afraid +of theological or controversial writings, and yet the faith that +shrinks from being touched lest it should totter is certainly not +on the right foundation. I suppose we ought, on the contrary, to +examine thoroughly the reason of the faith that is in us. Declining +reading upon religious subjects may be prudent, but it may be +indolence, cowardice, or lack of due interest in the matter. I +think I must read that treatise of Milton's.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, May 29th, 1831.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I have but little time for letter-writing, getting daily "deeper +and deeper still" in the incessant occupations of one sort and +another that crowd upon and almost overwhelm me; and now my care is +not so much whether I shall have time to write you a long letter, +as how I shall get leisure to write to you at all. You complain +that, in spite of the present interest I profess in public affairs, +I have given you no details of my opinion about them—my hopes or +fears of the result of the Reform movement. I have other things +that I care more to write to you about than politics, and am chary +of my space, because, though I can cross my letter, I can only have +one sheet of paper. "The Bill," modified as it now is, has my best +prayers and wishes, for to say that the removal of certain abuses +will not give the people bread which they expect is nothing against +it; but, at the same time that I sincerely hope this measure will +be carried, I cannot conceive what Government will do <i>next</i>, for +though trade is at this moment prosperous, great poverty and +discontent exist among large classes of the people, and as soon as +these needy folk find out that Reform is really not immediate bread +<i>and</i> cheese <i>and</i> beer, they will seek something else which they +may imagine will be those desired items of existence, and that is +what it may be difficult to give them. In the mean time party +spirit here has reached a tremendous pitch; <a name="Page_409" id="Page_409" ></a><span class="pagenum">[409]</span>old friendships are +broken up and old intimacies cease; former cordial acquaintances +refuse to meet each other, houses are divided, and the dearest +relations disturbed, if not destroyed. Society is become a sort of +battle-field, for every man (and woman too) is nothing if not +political. In fact, there really appears to be no middle or +moderating party, which I think strange and to be deplored. It +seems as if it were a mere struggle between the nobility and the +mobility, and the middle-class—that vast body of good sense, +education, and wealth, and efficient to hold the beam even between +the scales—throws itself man by man into one or the other of them, +and so only swells the adverse parties on each side.</p> + +<p>Parliament meets again in a few days, and then comes the tug of +war. Lord John Russell was at Oatlands while we were there, and as +the Francis Egertons and their guests were all anti-Reformers, they +led him rather a hard life. He bore all their attacks with great +good humor, however, and with the well-satisfied smile of a man who +thinks himself on the right, and knows himself on the safe side, +and wisely forbore to reply to their sallies. Our visit there was +delightful.</p> + +<p>As the distance is but one and twenty miles, my mother and I posted +down in the open carriage. The only guests we found on our arrival +were Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan (she is a daughter of Lady Dacre's, and +a charming person), Lord John Russell, and two of our <i>corps +dramatique</i>, Mr. Craven and Captain Shelley, son of Sir John +Shelley, a handsome, good-humored, pleasant young gentleman, who +acts Charles V. in "Hernani." I got up very early the first morning +I was there and went down before breakfast to our little old +cottage. In the lane leading to it I met a poor woman who lived +near us, and whom we used to employ. I spoke to her, but she did +not know me again. I wonder if these four years can have changed me +so much? The tiny house had not been inhabited since we lived +there.... My aunt Siddons is better, and Cecy very well.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Your affectionate</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p></div> + +<p>[The beautiful domain of Oatlands was only rented at this time by Lord +Francis Egerton, who delighted so much in it that he made overtures for +the purchase of it. The house was by no means a good one, though it had +been the abode of royalty; but the park was charming, and the whole +neighborhood, especially the wooded ranges of St. George's Hill, +extremely wild and picturesque.... Lord Francis Egerton bought <a name="Page_410" id="Page_410" ></a><span class="pagenum">[410]</span>St. +George's Hill, at the foot of which he built Hatchford, Lady Ellesmere's +charming dower house and residence after his death, and the house of +Oatlands became a country inn, very pleasant to those who had never +known it as the house of former friends, and therefore did not meet +ghosts in all its rooms and garden walks; and the park was cut up into +small villa residences and rascally inclined citizen's boxes. Hatchford, +the widowed home of Lady Ellesmere and burial-place of her brother, to +whose memory she erected there an elaborate mausoleum, has passed out of +the family possessions and become the property of strangers. One son of +the house lives on St. George's Hill, and has his home where I have so +often drawn rein while riding with his father and mother to look over +the wild, wooded slopes to the smiling landscape stretching in sunny +beauty far below us.]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Monday, May 30th.</i> ... The Francis Egertons called, and sat a long +time discussing "Hernani." ... I must record such a good pun of +his, which he only, alas, <i>dreamt</i>. He dreamt Lord W—— came up to +him, covered with gold chains and ornaments of all sorts, and that +he had called him the "Chain Pier." ... In the evening to +Bridgewater House. As soon as we arrived, I went to my own private +room, and looked over my part. We began at nine. Our audience was +larger than the last time. The play went off extremely well; we +were all improved. I was very anxious to play well, for the +Archbishop of York was in the front row, and he (poor gentleman!) +had never had the happiness of seeing me, the play-house being +forbidden ground to him. [This seems rather inconsistent, as all +the lesser clergy at this time frequented the theater without fear +or reproach. Dr. Hughes, the Very Reverend Prebend of St. Paul's, +Milman, Harness, among our own personal friends, were there +constantly, not to speak of my behind-the-scenes acquaintance, the +Rev. A.F.] I should like to seduce an old Archbishop into a liking +for the wickedness of my mystery, so I did my very best to edify +him, according to my kind and capacity.... At the end of the play, +as I lay dead on the stage, the king (Captain Shelley) was cutting +three great capers, like Bayard on his field of battle, for joy his +work was done, when his pretty dancing shoes attracted, in spite of +my decease, my attention, and I asked, with rapidly reviving +interest in existence, what they meant, on which I was informed +that the supper at Mrs. Cunliffe's was indeed a ball. I jumped up +from the dead, hurried off my <a name="Page_411" id="Page_411" ></a><span class="pagenum">[411]</span>stage robes, and hurried on my +private apparel, and followed my mother into the saloon. Here I had +delightful talk (though I believe I was dancing on my mind's feet +all the while) with Lord John Russell, Miss Berry, Lady Charlotte +Lindsay, and that charming person, James Wortley, and I got a +glimpse of Lord O——'s lovely face, who is a beautiful creature. +After being duly stared at by the crowds of my exalted +fellow-beings who filled the room, Lady Francis said she would send +them away, and we adjourned to Mrs. Cunliffe's, and had a very fine +ball; that is to say, we had neither room to dance, nor space to +sit, nor power to move.</p> + +<p>"Oh, pleasure is a very pleasant thing," as Byron sings and H—— +for ever says, and certainly a good ball is a pleasant thing, and +in spite of the above drawbacks I was enchanted with everything. +Such shoals of partners! such nice people! such perfect music! such +a delightful floor! Danced till the day had one eye wide open, and +then home to bed—what a good thing it is to have one under the +circumstances! I hope I have not been very tipsy to-night, but it +is difficult with so many stimulants to keep <i>quite</i> sober. Broad +daylight! Six o'clock!</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday, May 21st.</i>—My feet ache so with dancing that I can +hardly stand. Did not some traditional princesses of German +fairyland dance their shoes and stockings to pieces?</p> + +<p>Going into the drawing-room I found my darling Dr. Combe there, and +if I had not been so tired I must have made a jump at his neck, I +was so very glad to see him. He brought me a letter from Mr. Combe, +whom I love only one step lower. He sat with us but a short time, +and leaves town to-morrow, which I am sorry for, first, because I +should like to have seen him again so very much, and next, because +I should have been glad that my mother became better acquainted +with the mental charms and seductions of the man whose outward +appearance seems to have allayed some of her apprehensions for the +safety of my heart and those of my Edinburgh cousins. Mrs. W—— +called soon after. She is intent upon my acting Mlle. Mar's part in +"Henri Trois." I can do nothing with any French part in Covent +Garden. If they can find a theater of half that size to get it up +in, well and good; but seen from a distance, which defies +discrimination of objects, a thistle is as good as a rose, and in +that enormous frame refinement is mere platitude, and finish of +detail an unnecessary minutia.</p> + +<p>We went to the theater to see a new piece, I believe by Mrs. +Norton. The pit and galleries were very indifferent; the <a name="Page_412" id="Page_412" ></a><span class="pagenum">[412]</span>dress +circle and private boxes full of fine folk. Lady St. Maur +(Georgiana Sheridan, Mrs. Norton's youngest sister, afterward +Duchess of Somerset and Queen of Beauty) and her husband, with +Corinne and Mr. Norton, in a box opposite ours. What a terrible +piece! what atrocious situations and ferocious circumstances! +tinkering, starving, hanging—like a chapter out of the Newgate +Calendar. But, after all, she's in the right; she has given the +public what they desire, given them what they like. Of course it +made one cry horribly; but then of course one cries when one hears +of people reduced by sheer craving to eat nettles and +cabbage-stalks. Destitution, absolute hunger, cold and nakedness, +are no more subjects for artistic representation than sickness, +disease, and the <i>real</i> details of idiotcy, madness, and death. All +art should be an idealized; elevated representation (not imitation) +of nature; and when beggary and low vice are made the themes of the +dramatist, as in this piece, or of the poet, as in the works of +Crabbe, they seem to me to be clothing their inspirations in wood +or lead, or some base material, instead of gold or ivory. The clay +of the modeler is more <i>real</i>, but the marble of the sculptor is +the clay glorified. In Crabbe's writings one has at least the +comfort and consolation of a high moral sense, charming +versification, and an occasional tender, exquisite expression of +the beauties of nature. Our play to-night could not boast of these +<i>alleviations</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, June 1st.</i>—At the riding school saw Miss C——, who +wants me to get the play changed at Covent Garden <i>for this +evening</i>—"rien que cela!" What a fine thing it is to be "one of +those people!" They fancy that anybody's business of any sort can +be postponed to the first whim that enters their head. My mother +came with Dr. Combe in the carriage to fetch me from the riding +school. At home found a note from Lady Francis and the epilogue +Lord Francis has written to "Hernani," which I am certainly bound +to like, for it is highly complimentary to me.</p> + +<p>I went to the real theater in the evening to do real work. The +house was good, but I played like a wretch—ranted, roared, and +acted altogether infamously. The fact was I was tired to death, and +of course violence always has to supply the place of strength. +Unluckily all the F——s were there, and I felt sorry for them. To +be sure, they had never seen "The Hunchback" before, and I should +think would heartily desire never to see it again; my performance +was shameful.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, June 2d.</i>—Mr. Hayter called. Lord Francis has spoken to +him about the picture he wishes him to do of me, <a name="Page_413" id="Page_413" ></a><span class="pagenum">[413]</span>and he came to +take the position, and I gave him his choice of three or four. I +dare say he will make a very pretty picture. As for my likeness, +that <i>I</i> am not hopeful about. I have gone through the operation in +vain so very often. Murray has sent me some beautiful and +delightful books.... A third representation of "Hernani" is called +for, it seems, and, as far as I am concerned, they are welcome to +it; but Lady Francis came to say that the Duchess of Gloucester +wants it to be acted on the 23d, and I am afraid that will not do +for my theater arrangements; they must try and have it earlier, if +possible. Lady Francis has half bribed me with a ball. They want us +to go down to Oatlands for Saturday and Sunday, and I hope we may +be able to manage it.... After Lady F—— was gone, my mother had a +visit from Mrs. B——; her manner is bad, her matter is good. She +is clever and excellent, and I have a great respect for her. She +interested me immensely by her account of Mrs. Fry's visits to +Newgate. What a blessed, happy woman to do so much good; to be the +means of comfort and consolation, perhaps of salvation, to such +desolate souls! How I did honor and love what I heard of her. Mrs. +B—— said Mrs. Fry would be delighted to take me with her some day +when she went to the prison. My mother laughingly said she was +afraid Mrs. Fry would convert me—surely not to Quakerism. I do not +think I need a new faith, but power to act up to the one I profess. +I need no Quaker saint to tell me I do not do that.</p></div> + +<p>[I had the great honor of accompanying Mrs. Fry in one of her visits to +Newgate, but from various causes received rather a painful impression +instead of the very different one I had anticipated. Her divine labor of +love had become <i>famous</i>, and fine ladies of fashion pressed eagerly to +accompany her, or be present at the Newgate exhortations. The +unfortunate women she addressed were ranged opposite their less +excusable sister sinners of the better class, and I hardly dared to look +at them, so entirely did I feel out of my place by the side of Mrs. Fry, +and so sick for their degraded attitude and position. If I had been +alone with them and their noble teacher I would assuredly have gone and +sat down among them. On the day I was there a poor creature sat in the +midst of the congregation attired differently from all the others, who +was pointed out to me as being under sentence of transportation for +whatever crime she committed. Altogether I felt broken-hearted for +<i>them</i> and ashamed for <i>us</i>.]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>My mother has had a letter from my father (he was acting in the<a name="Page_414" id="Page_414" ></a><span class="pagenum">[414]</span> +provinces), who says he has met and shaken hands with Mr. Harris +(his co-proprietor of Covent Garden, and antagonist in our ruinous +lawsuit about it). I wonder what benefit is to be expected from +that operation with—such a person.</p> + +<p><i>Sunday, June 5th.</i> ... On my return from afternoon service found +Mr. Walpole with my mother; they amused me extremely by a +conversation in which they ran over, as far as their memories would +stretch (near sixty years), the various fashions and absurd modes +of dress which have prevailed during that period. Toupees, fêtes, +toques, bouffantes, hoops, bell hoops, sacques, polonaises, +levites, and all the paraphernalia of horsehair, powder, pomatum, +and pins, in the days when court beauties had their heads dressed +over-night for the next day's drawing-room, and sat up in their +chairs for fear of destroying the edifice by lying down. No wonder +they were obliged to rouge themselves—the days when once in a +fortnight was considered often enough for ridding the hair of its +horrible paste of flour and grease. We are certainly cleaner than +our grandmothers, and much more comfortable, though it is not so +long since my own head was dressed <i>à la giraffe</i>, in three bows +over pins half a foot high, so that I could not sit upright in the +carriage without knocking against the top of it. My mother's and +Mr. Walpole's recollections and descriptions were like seeing a set +of historical caricatures pass before one.</p> + +<p><i>Monday, June 6th.</i>—The house was very full at the theater this +evening, and Miss C—— sent me round a delicious fresh bouquet. I +acted well, I think; the play was "Romeo and Juliet." It is so very +pleasant to return to Shakespeare, after <i>reciting</i> Bianca and +Isabella, etc. I reveled in the glorious poetry and the bright, +throbbing <i>reality</i> of that Italian girl's existence; and yet +Juliet is nothing like as nice as Portia—<i>nobody</i> is as nice as +Portia. But the oftener I act Juliet the oftener I think it ought +never to be acted at all, and the more absurd it seems to me to try +to act it. After the play my mother sent a note with the carriage +to say she would not go to the ball, so I dressed myself and drove +off with my father from the theater to the Countess de S——'s. At +half-past eleven the ball had not begun. Mrs. Norton was there in +splendid beauty; at about half-past twelve the dancing began, and +it was what is called a very fine ball. While I was dancing with +Mr. C——, I saw my father talking to a handsome and very +magnificent lady, who my partner told me was the Duchess of B——; +after our quadrille, when I rejoined my father, he said to me, +"Fanny, let me present you to ——" here he mumbled something +per<a name="Page_415" id="Page_415" ></a><span class="pagenum">[415]</span>fectly inaudible, and I made a courtesy, and the lady smiled +sweetly and said some civil things and went away. "Whose name did +you mention," said I to my father, with some wickedness, "just now +when you introduced me to that lady?" "Nobody's, my dear, nobody's; +I haven't the remotest idea who she is." "The Duchess of B——," +said I, glibly, strong in the knowledge I had just acquired from my +partner. "Bless my soul!" cried the poor man, with a face of the +most ludicrous dismay, "so it was! I had quite forgotten her, +though she was good enough to remember me, and here I have been +talking cross-questions and crooked answers to her for the last +half-hour!"</p> + +<p>Was ever any thing so terrible! I feared my poor father would go +home and remain awake all night, sobbing softly to himself, like +the eldest of the nine Miss Simmonses in the ridiculous novel, +because in her nervous flurry at a great dinner party she had +refused instead of accepting a gentleman's offer to drink wine with +her. Lady G—— then came up, whom he did remember, and who was +"truly gracious;" and I left him consoled, and, I hope, having +forgotten his dreadful duchess again. All the world, as the saying +is, was at this ball, and it certainly was a very fine assembly. We +danced in a splendid room hung with tapestry—a magnificent +apartment, though it seemed to me incongruous for the purpose; dim +burning lights and flitting ghosts and gusts of wind and distant +footfalls and sepulchral voices being the proper <i>furniture</i> of the +"tapestried chamber," and not wax candles, to the tune of sunlight +and bright eyes and dancing feet and rustling silks and gauzes and +laughing voices, and all the shine and shimmer and flaunting +flutter of a modern ball....</p> + +<p>At half-past two, though the carriage had been ordered at two, my +father told me he would not "spoil sport," and so angelically +stayed till past four. He is the best of fathers, the most +affectionate of parents, the most benevolent of men! There is a +great difference between being chaperoned by one's father instead +of one's mother: the latter, poor dear! never flirts, gets very +sleepy and tired, and wants to go home before she comes; the former +flirts and talks with all the pretty, pleasant women he meets, and +does not care till what hour in the morning—a frame of mind +favorable to much dancing for the <i>youngers</i>. After all, I had to +come away in the middle of a delightful mazurka.</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday, June 7th.</i>— ... We had a very pleasant dinner at Mr. +Harness's. Moore was there, but Paganini was <a name="Page_416" id="Page_416" ></a><span class="pagenum">[416]</span>the chief subject +discussed, and we harped upon the one miraculous string he fiddles +on without pauses.... After dinner I read one of Miss Mitford's +hawthorny sketches out of "Our Village," which was lying on the +table; they always carry one into fresh air and green fields, for +which I am grateful to them.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, June 8th.</i>—While I was writing to H—— my mother came +in and told me that Mrs. Siddons was dead. I was not surprised; she +has been ill, and gradually failing for so long.... I could not be +much grieved for myself, for of course I had had but little +intercourse with her, though she was always very kind to me when I +saw her.... She died at eight o'clock this morning—peaceably, and +without suffering, and in full consciousness.... I wonder if she is +gone where Milton and Shakespeare are, to whose worship she was +priestess all her life—whose thoughts were her familiar thoughts, +whose words were her familiar words. I wonder how much more she is +allowed to know of all things now than she did while she was here. +As I looked up into the bright sky to-day, while my father and +mother were sadly recalling the splendor of her day of beauty and +great public power, I thought of the unlimited glory she perhaps +now beheld, of the greater holiness and happiness I trust she now +enjoys, and said in my heart, "It must be well to be as she is." I +had never thought it must be well to be as she <i>was</i>....</p> + +<p>As soon as the news came my father went off to see what he could do +for Cecilia, poor thing, and to bring her here, if she can be +persuaded to leave Baker Street. He was not much shocked, though +naturally deeply grieved by the event; my aunt has now been ill so +long that any day might have brought the termination of the +protracted process of her death. When he returned he said Cecilia +was composed and quiet, but would not leave the house at present. I +have written to Lady Francis to decline going to Oatlands, which we +were to have done this week.</p> + +<p>At dinner my father told me some of the arrangements he has made +for the summer. We are to act at Bristol, Bath, Exeter, Plymouth, +and Southampton. He then said, "Suppose we take steamer thence to +Marseilles, and so on to Naples?" My heart jumped into my mouth at +the thought; but how should I ever come back again?... Everything +here is <i>so ugly</i>, even without comparison with that which is +beautiful elsewhere; from Italy how should one come back to live in +London?</p> + +<p><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417" ></a><span class="pagenum">[417]</span><i>Thursday, June 9th.</i>— ... And so I am to act Lady Macbeth! I feel +as if I were standing up by the great pyramid of Egypt to see how +tall I am! However, it must be done; perhaps I may even do it less +ill than Constance—the greater intensity of the character may +perhaps render majesty less <i>indispensable</i>. Power (if one had +enough of it) might atone for insufficient dignity. Lady Macbeth +made herself a queen by dint of wickedness; Constance was royal +born—a radical difference, which ought to be in my favor. But +dear, dear, dear, what a frightful undertaking for a poor girl, let +her be never so wicked!</p> + +<p>And <i>the</i> Lady Macbeth will never be seen again! I wish just now +that in honor of my aunt the play might be forbidden to be +performed for the next ten years. My father and myself have a +holiday at the theater—but only for the week—because of Mrs. +Siddons's death, and we are to go down to Oatlands—nobody being +there but ourselves, that is my brother and I—for the rest and +quiet and fresh air of these few days.</p> + +<p><i>Friday, June 10th.</i>—Before three the carriage was announced, and +we started for the country. We dropped Henry at Lord Waldegrave's +and had a very pleasant drive, though the day was as various in its +moods as if we were in April instead of June. We arrived at about +six, and found Mr. C—— had been made an exception to the +"positively nobody" who was to meet us....</p> + +<p><i>Saturday, June 11th.</i>—Read the French piece called "Une Faute," +which half killed me with crying. It is exceedingly clever, but +altogether <i>too</i> true, in my opinion, for real art. It is not +dramatic truth, but absolute imitation of life, and instead of the +mitigated emotion which a poetical representation of tragic events +excites, it produces a sense of positive suffering too acutely +painful for an artistic result; it is a perfectly prosaical +reproduction of the familiar vice and its inseparable misery of +modern everyday life; it wants elevation and imagination—aërial +perspective; it is close upon one, and must be agonizing to see +well acted. My studies were certainly not of the most cheerful +order, for after finishing this morbid anatomy of human hearts I +read an article in the <i>Phrenological Journal</i> on Bouilland's +"Anatomy of the Brain," which made me feel as if my brain was stuck +full of pins and needles.</p> + +<p><i>Perhaps</i> a certain amount of experience must be attained through +experiment, and if the wits of the human species are to be better +understood, governed, and preserved by the results obtained by +cutting and hacking the brains of living animals, <a name="Page_418" id="Page_418" ></a><span class="pagenum">[418]</span><i>perhaps</i> some of +our more immediate mercy is to be sacrificed to our humanity in the +lump; but if this is not the forbidden doing evil that good may +come of it, I do not know what is. One of the effects of Mr. +Bouilland's excruciating experiments on his victims was to turn me +already sick and give me an agonizing pain in <i>my</i> brain. I hope +their beneficial consequences did not end there.</p> + +<p>I did all this reading before breakfast, and when I left my room it +was still too early for any one to be up, so I set off for a run in +the park. The morning was lovely, vivid, and bright, with soft +shadows flitting across the sky and chasing one another over the +sward, while a delicious fresh wind rustled the trees and rippled +the grass; and unable to resist the temptation, bonnetless as I +was, I set off at the top of my speed, running along the terrace, +past the grotto, and down a path where the syringa pelted me with +showers of mock-orange blossoms, till I came under some magnificent +old cedars, through whose black, broad-spread wings the morning sun +shone, drawing their great shadows on the sweet-smelling earth +beneath them, strewed with their russet-colored shedding. I thought +it looked and smelt like a Russia-leather carpet. Then I came to +the brink of the water, to a little deserted fishing pavilion +surrounded by a wilderness of bloom that was once a garden, and +then I ran home to breakfast. After breakfast I went over the very +same ground with Lady Francis, extremely demure, with my bonnet on +my head and a parasol in my hand, and the utmost propriety of +decorous demeanor, and said never a word of my mad morning's +explorings. A girl's run and a young lady's walk are very different +things, and I hold both pleasant in their way. The carriage was +ordered to take my mother to Addlestone to see poor old Mrs. +Whitelock, and during her absence Lady Francis and I repaired to +her own private sitting-room, and we entertained each other with +extracts from our respective journals. I was struck with the high +esteem she expressed for Lord Carlisle; in one place in her journal +she said she wished she could hope her boys would grow up as +excellent men as he is, and this in spite of her party politics, +for she is a Tory and he a Whig, and she is really a partisan +politician.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon, after a charming meandering ride, we determined +to go to Monks Grove, the place Lady Charlotte Greville has taken +on St. Anne's Hill.... In the evening we had terrifical ghost +stories, which held, us fascinated till <i>one o'clock in the +morning</i>.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The stones done, to bed they creep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By whispering winds soon lull'd asleep."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419" ></a><span class="pagenum">[419]</span><i>Sunday, June 12th.</i>— ... It's nearly five years since I said my +prayers in that dear old little Weybridge church....</p> + +<p>On our return, as the horses are never used on Sunday, we went down +to the water and got into the boat. The day was lovely, and as we +glided along the bright water my mother and Lady Francis and I +murmured, half voice, all sorts of musical memories, which made a +nice accompaniment to Lord Francis's occasional oar-dip that just +kept the boat in motion. When we landed, my mother returned to the +house, and the rest of us set off for a long delightful stroll to +the farm, where I saw a monstrous and most beautiful dog whom I +should like to have hugged, but that he looked so grave and wise it +seemed like a liberty. We walked on through a part of the park +called America, because of the magnificent rhododendrons and +azaleas and the general wildness of the whole. The mass was so deep +one's feet sank into it; the sun, setting, threw low, slanting rays +along the earth and among the old tree trunks. It was a beautiful +bit of forest scenery; how like America I do not know. Upon the +racecourse we emerged into a full, still afternoon atmosphere of +brilliant and soft splendor; the whole park was flooded with +sunshine, and little creeks of light ran here and there into the +woods we had just left, touching with golden radiance a solitary +tree, and glancing into leafy nooks here and there, while the mass +of woodland was one deep shadow....</p> + +<p>Much discussion as to the possibilities and probabilities of our +being able to stay here another day. When we came back from our +afternoon ride at near eight, found Mr. Greville and Lady Charlotte +here, and a letter from my father, saying that I could be spared +from my work at the theater a little longer, and promising to come +down to us.... In the evening Mr. C—— and I acted some of +Racine's "Andromaque" for them; my old school part of Hermione +which I have not forgotten, and then two scenes from Scribe's +pretty piece of "<i>les premières Amours</i>." He acts French capitally, +and, moreover, bestowed upon me the two following ridiculous +conundrum puns, for which I shall be forever grateful to him:</p> + +<p>"Que font les Vaches à Paris?"</p> + +<p>"Des Vaudevilles" (des Veaux de Ville).</p> + +<p>"Quelle est la sainte qui n'a pas lesoin de Jarretières?"</p> + +<p>"Ste. Sébastienne" (ses has se tiennent).</p> + +<p>What absurd, funny stuff!</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday, June 14th.</i>—Gardening on the lawn—hay-making in the +meadow—delightful ride in the afternoon, the beginning <a name="Page_420" id="Page_420" ></a><span class="pagenum">[420]</span>of which, +however, was rather spoiled by some very disagreeable accounts Mr. +C—— was giving us of Lord and Lady ——'s <i>mènage</i>. What might, +could, would, or <i>should</i> a woman do in such a case? Endure and +endure till her heart broke, I suppose. Somehow I don't think a man +would have the heart to <i>break</i> one's heart; but, to be sure, I +don't know....</p> + +<p>We did not return home till near nine, and so, instead of dinner, +all sat down to high tea, at which everybody was very cheerful and +gay, and the talk very bright....</p> + +<p>I wish I could have painted my host and hostess this morning as +they stood together on the lawn; she with her beautiful baby in her +arms, her bright, fair forehead and eyes contrasting so strikingly +with his fine, dark head. I never saw a more charming picture. +(Landseer has produced one version of it in his famous "Return from +Hawking.") Are not all such groups "Holy Families"? They looked to +me holy as well as handsome and happy.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, June 15th.</i>— ... The races in the park were to begin +at one, and we wished, of course, to keep clear of them and all the +gay company; so at twelve my mother and I got into the pony +carriage, and drove to Addlestone to my aunt Whitelock's pretty +cottage there. It rained spitefully all day, and the races and all +the fine racing folk were drenched. At about six o'clock my father +came from London, bringing me letters; the weather had brightened, +and I took a long stroll with him till time to dress for dinner.... +In the evening music and pleasant talk till one o'clock.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, June 16th.</i>—At eight o'clock my mother and I walked +with my father to meet the coach, on the top of which he left us +for London. After breakfast took my mother down to my "Cedar Hall," +and established her there with her fishing, and then walked up the +hill to the great trees and amused myself with bending down the big +branches, and, seating myself on them, let them spring up with me. +Climbing trees, as poor Combe would say, excites one's "wonder" and +one's "caution" very agreeably, and I like it. I took Lord +Francis's translation of "Henri Trois" back to the "Cedar Hall," +where my mother was still watching her float. I was a good deal +struck with it. He has not finished the whole of the first act yet, +but there is one scene between the Duchess of Guise and St. Megrin +that I should think ought to be very effective on the stage; and I +can imagine how charming Mdlle. Mars must have been in her +sleep-walking gestures and intonations. The <a name="Page_421" id="Page_421" ></a><span class="pagenum">[421]</span>situation, which is +highly dramatic, is, I think, quite new; I cannot recollect any +similar one in any other play....</p> + +<p>After lunch my mother, Lady Charlotte, and Mr. Greville drove off +to Monks Grove, and we followed them on horse-back; it is a little +paradise of a place, with its sunny, smooth sloping lawns and +bright, sparkling piece of water, the masses of flowers blossoming +in profuse beauty, and the high, overhanging, sheltering woods of +St. Anne's Hill rising behind it. On our way home much talk of +Naples. I might like to go there, no doubt; the question is how I +should like to come back to London after Naples, and I think not at +all. In the evening read the pretty French piece of "Michel et +Christine" which my father had sent me.</p> + +<p><i>Friday, June 17th.</i>— ... My mother, Mr. C——, and I drove +together back to town; so good-by, Oatlands.</p> + +<p><i>Monday, June 20th.</i>—Went to rehearsal at half-past ten for John +Mason, who is to come out in Romeo to-night; he had caught a +dreadful cold and could hardly speak, which was terribly provoking, +poor fellow! After my theater rehearsal of "Romeo and Juliet" drove +to Bridgewater House to rehearse "Hernani." In the evening the +house was very good at Covent Garden; I played well. John Mason was +suffering dreadfully from cold and hoarseness; the audience were +very good-natured, however, and he got through uncommonly well. My +mother said I played "beautifully," which was saying much indeed +for her. I was delighted, especially as the Francis Levesons and +—— were all there.</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday, June 21st.</i>—Went to Bridgewater House to rehearse. +Charles Young was among our morning audience; I was so glad to see +him, for dear old acquaintanceship. The king was going to the House +of Parliament, and Palace Yard was thronged with people, and we sat +round one of the Bridgewater House windows to see the show. At +about one the royal carriages set out—such lovely cream-colored +horses, with blue and silver trappings; such splendid, shining, +coal-black ones, with coral-colored trappings. The equipages looked +like some enchanted present in a fairy story. The king—God bless +him!—cannot, I should think, have been much annoyed by the +clamorous greetings of his people. I'm afraid that ominous, sullen +silence is a bad sign of the times. We rehearsed very steadily. +Lord Francis, who is taking the old duke's part because of Mr. St. +Aubin going abroad, is much improved by some teaching Young has +bestowed upon him; but still he is by no means so good as Mr. St. +Aubin was....</p> + +<p><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422" ></a><span class="pagenum">[422]</span><i>Wednesday, 22d.</i>—Read "La Chronique de Charles Neuf," which is +very clever, but the history of that period in France is so +revolting that works of fiction founded upon it are as disagreeable +as the history itself. Hogarth's pictures and Le Sage's novels are +masterpieces, and yet admirable only as excellent representations +of what in itself is odious. However, they are satirical works, and +so have their <i>raison d'être</i>, which I do not think a serious novel +about detestable times and people has. Drove to Bridgewater House, +feeling so unwell that I could scarcely stand, and was obliged to +lie down till I was called to go on the stage. We had a magnificent +audience—all the grandeurs in England except the King. The Queen, +the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester, the Duke and Duchess of +Cumberland, Princess Elizabeth, Prince Leopold, the Duke of +Brunswick. And lesser magnificoes the room full. Such very superior +people make a dull audience, of course; the presence of royalty is +always understood to bar applause, which is not etiquette when a +Majesty is by. I played very ill; my voice was quite unmanageable, +and broke twice, to my extreme dismay. The fact is, I am fagged +<i>half</i> to death; but as I cannot give up my work and cannot <i>bear</i> +to give up my play, the only wonder is that I am not fagged <i>whole</i> +to death. Mr. Craven acted really capitally, and I wondered how he +could. They put us out terribly in one scene by forgetting the +bench on which I have to sit down. Hernani managed with great +presence of mind and cleverness in its absence, but it spoilt our +prettiest picture. After the play Lady Francis came to fetch me to +be presented to the Queen; her Majesty was most gracious in her +reception of me, and so were the Princess Elizabeth and the Duke of +Gloucester, who came and had quite a long chat with me. When I had +received my dismissal from her Majesty I ran to disrobe, and +returned to join the crowd in the drawing-room.... When they were +all gone we adjourned to Lady Gower's—a most magnificent supper, +which <i>we</i> enjoyed in the perfection of comfort, in a small boudoir +opening into and commanding the whole length of the supper saloon. +Our snuggery just held my mother, Lady Francis, myself, Charles +Greville, and three of our <i>corps dramatique</i>, and we not only +enjoyed a full view of the royal table, but what was infinitely +amusing, poor Lord Francis's disconsolate countenance, which half +killed us with laughing. Supper done, we all proceeded downstairs +to see the Royalty depart, and looked at a fine picture of +Lawrence's of that handsome creature, Lord Clanwilliam. Took leave +of my friends for <a name="Page_423" id="Page_423" ></a><span class="pagenum">[423]</span>some months, I am sorry to say; took Mr. ——home +in our carriage and set him down just at day-dawn. It was past four +o'clock before I saw my bed; and the life I am leading is really +enough to kill any one.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, June 23d.</i>—Quite unwell, and in bed all day. Mrs. +Jameson came and sat with me some time. We talked of marriage, and +a woman's chance of happiness in giving her life into another's +keeping. I said I thought if one did not expect too much one might +secure a reasonably fair amount of happiness, though of course the +risk one ran was immense. I never shall forget the expression of +her face; it was momentary, and passed away almost immediately, but +it has haunted me ever since.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dear Lady Dacre</span>, +</p> + +<p>I am commissioned by my mother to request your kind permission to +bring my brother to your evening party on Saturday; she hopes you +will have no scruple in refusing this request, if for any reason +you would rather not comply with it.... I have been thinking much +about what you said to me both <i>viva voce</i> and in your note upon +that "obnoxious word" in my play. Let me entreat you to put aside +conventional regards of age and sex, which have nothing to do with +works of art or literature, and view the subject without any of +those considerations, which have their own proper domain, +doubtless—although I think you have in this instance admitted +their jurisdiction out of it.... I hope as long as I live that I +shall never write anything offensive to decency or morality, or +their pure source, religion; and I hope in my own manners and +conversation always to preserve the decorum prescribed by society, +good taste, and good feeling; but as a dramatic writer, supposing I +am ever to be one, I shall have to depict men as well as women, +coarse and common men as well as refined and courtly ones, and all +and each, if I fulfill my task, must speak the language that their +nature under their several circumstances points out as individually +appropriate. But I forget that I am addressing one far better able +than I am to say what belongs to all questions of poetry and art. +Forgive me, my dear Lady Dacre, and allow me to add that, as when I +put my play into your hands I told you that should you find it too +intolerably dull and bad I would release you from your kind promise +of accepting its dedication to yourself, I can only repeat my +readiness to do so if upon any other ground whatever you feel +reluctant to grace <a name="Page_424" id="Page_424" ></a><span class="pagenum">[424]</span>my title-page with your name. Pray tell me so +without hesitation, as I had rather forego that honor than owe it +to your courtesy without your entire good-will.</p> + +<p>In any event pray accept my best acknowledgments for your kindness, +and believe me always</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Your very truly obliged</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p></div> + +<p>This letter was written in answer to some strictures of Lady Dacre's on +what appeared to her coarseness of language in my play of "The Star of +Seville," which she thought unbecoming a "young lady." If I remember +rightly, too, she said that the introduction of a scene in a bedchamber +might be deemed objectionable. I had asked her permission to dedicate +the play to her, which she had granted; and though she failed to +convince me that a young-lady element had any business whatever in a +play, she very kindly allowed her name to adorn the title-page of my +<i>un</i>-young ladylike drama.</p> + +<p>Soon after this my father and aunt and myself left London for our summer +tour in the provinces, which we began at Bristol.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Monday, July 4th, Bristol.</i>—The play was "Romeo and Juliet," and +the nurse was a perfect farce in herself; she really was worth any +money, and her soliloquy when she found me "up and dressed and down +again," very nearly made me scream with laughter in the middle of +my trance. Indeed, the whole play was probably considered an +"improved version" of Shakespeare's Veronese story, both in the +force and delicacy of the text. Sundry wicked words and coarse +appellations were decorously dispensed with; many fine passages +received judicious additions; not a few were equally judiciously +omitted altogether. What a shocking hash!</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday, July 5th.</i>—After breakfast we sallied forth to the +market, to my infinite delight and amusement. It is most +beautifully clean; the fruit and vegetables look so pretty, and +smell so sweet, and give such an idea of plentiful abundance, that +it is delightful to walk about among them. Even the meat, which I +am generally exceedingly averse to go near, was so beautifully and +nicely arranged that it had none of its usual repulsiveness; and +the sight of the whole place, and the quaint-looking rustic people, +was so pleasantly envious. We stopped to gossip with a bewitching +old country dame, whose market stock might have sat, with her in +the middle of it, for its picture; the veal and poultry so white +and delicate-looking, the <a name="Page_425" id="Page_425" ></a><span class="pagenum">[425]</span>bacon like striped pink and white +ribbons, the butter so golden, fresh, and sweet, in a great basket +trimmed round with bunches of white jasmine, the green leaves and +starry blossoms and exquisite perfume making one believe that +butter ought always to be served, not in a "lordly dish," but in a +bower of jasmine. The good lady told us she had just come up from +"the farm," and that the next time she came she would bring us some +home-made bread, and that she was going back to brew and to bake. +She looked so tidy and <i>rural</i>, and her various avocations sounded +so pleasant as she spoke of them, that I felt greatly tempted to +beg her to let me go with her to "the farm," which I am sure must +be an enchanting place, neat and pretty, and flowery and +comfortable, and full of rustic picturesqueness; and <i>while the sun +shone</i>, I think I should like a female farmer's life amazingly. +Went to the theater and rehearsed "Venice Preserved," which is an +entirely different kind of thing. Charles Mason dined with us. +After dinner I finished reading Miss Ferrier's novel of "Destiny," +which I like very much; besides being very clever, it leaves a +pleasant taste, in one's mind's mouth. Went to the theater at six; +the play was "Venice Preserved," and I certainly have seldom seen a +more shameful exhibition. In the first place C—— did not even +know his words, and that was bad enough; but when he was out, +instead of coming to a stop decently, and finishing at least with +his cue, he went on extemporizing line after line, and speech after +speech, of his own, by way of mending matters. I think I never saw +such a performance. He stamps and bellows low down in his throat +like an ill-suppressed bull; he rolls his eyes till I feel as if +they were flying out of their sockets at me, and I must try and +catch them. He quivers and quavers in his speech, and pulls and +<i>wrenches</i> me so inhumanly, that what with inward laughter and +extreme rage and pain, I was really all but dead in earnest at the +end of the play. I acted very ill myself till the last scene, when +my Jaffier having been done justice to by the Venetian Government, +I was able to do justice to myself, and having gone mad, and no +wonder, died rather better than I had lived through the piece.</p> + +<p><i>July 6th, Bristol.</i>—Walked out to order the horses, and +afterwards went on to look at the Abbey Church. We examined one or +two interesting old monuments; but were obliged to curtail our +explorings, as the doors were about to be closed. We have been +talking much lately of a remote possibility of going to America; +and as I left this old brown pile to-day, it seemed to me curious +to think of a country which has <a name="Page_426" id="Page_426" ></a><span class="pagenum">[426]</span>no cathedrals, no monuments of the +Old Faith. How venerable, in spite of its superstitions and abuses; +for its long undisputed sway over all civilized lands; for the +great and good men who honored it by their lives and works—the +religion of Augustine, of Bruno, Benedict, Francis d'Assisi, +Francis de Sales, Fénelon, and how many more—the Christianity of +Europe in its feudal, chivalrous times, those days of noble, good, +as well as fierce, evil deeds and lives, the faith that kings and +warriors bowed to when sovereignty was absolute and military power +supreme. America has no gray abbeys, no ruined cloisters, to tell +of monastic brotherhoods—the preserves of ancient historic +chronicles, the guardians of the early wells and springs of classic +learning and genius. In America there are no great, old, +time-stained, weather-beaten, ivy-mantled churches full of tombs, +such as we saw to-day, with curious carvings and quaint effigies, +and where the early rulers of the land embraced the faith and +received the baptism of Christ. That must be a very strange +country. But they have Plymouth Rock, on the shore where the +Protestant Pilgrims landed.</p> + +<p>The horses having come to the door, we set off for our ride; our +steeds were but indifferent hacks, but the road was charming, and +the evening serene and pure, and I was with my father, a +circumstance of enjoyment to me always. The characteristic feature +of the scenery of this region is the vivid, deep-toned foliage of +the hanging woods, through whose dense tufts of green, masses of +gray rock and long scars of warm-colored red-brown earth appear +every now and then with the most striking effect. The deep-sunk +river wound itself drowsily to a silver thread at the base of steep +cliffs, to the summit of which we climbed, reaching a fine level +land of open downs carpeted with close, elastic turf. On we rode, +up hill and down dale, through shady lanes full of the smell of +lime-blossom, skirting meadows fragrant with the ripe mellow hay +and honey-sweet clover, and then between plantations of aromatic, +spicy fir and pine, all exhaling their perfumes under the influence +of the warm sunset. At last we made a halt where the road, winding +through Lord de Clifford's property, commanded an enchanting view. +On our right, rolling ground rising gradually into hills, clothed +to their summits with flourishing evergreens, firs, larches, +laurel, arbutus—a charming variety in the monotony of green. On +the farthest of these heights Blaise Castle, with two gray towers, +well defined against the sky, looked from its bosky eminence over +the whole domain, which spread on our left in sloping lawns, where +single oaks and elms of noble size threw <a name="Page_427" id="Page_427" ></a><span class="pagenum">[427]</span>their shadows on the +sunlit sward, which looked as if none but fairies' feet had ever +pressed it. Beyond this, through breaks and frames, and arches made +by the trees, the broad Severn glittered in the wavy light. It was +a beautiful landscape in every direction. We returned home by sea +wall and the shore of the Severn, which seemed rather bare and +bleak after the soft loveliness we had just left....</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, July 7th.</i>—Went to the theater to rehearse "The +Gamester." In the afternoon strolled down to the river with my +father and Dall. We took boat and rowed toward the cliffs. Our +time, however, was limited; and just as we reached the loveliest +part of the river, we were obliged to turn home again.... At +dinner, as we were talking about America, and I was expressing my +disinclination ever to go thither, my father said: "If my cause +(our Chancery suit) goes ill before the Lords, I think the best +thing I can do will be to take ship from Liverpool and sail to the +United States." I choked a little at this, but presently found +voice to say, "Ebben son pronta;" but he replied, "No, that he +should go alone." That you never should, my own dear father!... But +I do hate the very thought of America.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday, July 9th.</i> ... In the afternoon drove out in an open +carriage with Dall to Shirehampton, by the same road my father and +I took in our ride the other day.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Bristol</span>, July 10th, 1831.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dear Mrs. Jameson</span>, +</p> + +<p>I can neither bid you confirm nor deny any "<i>reports</i> you may +hear," for I am in utter ignorance, I am happy to say, of the +world's surmisings on my behalf, and had indeed supposed that my +time for being honored by its notice in any way was pretty well +past and over.</p> + +<p>I am glad you are having rest, as you speak of it with the +enjoyment which those alone who work hard are entitled to. I trust, +too, that in the instance of your eyes no news is good news, for +you say nothing of them, and I therefore like to hope that they +have suffered you to forget them.</p> + +<p>I'm disappointed about your Shakespeare book. I should like to have +had it by my next birthday, which is the 27th of November, and to +which I look forward with unusually mingled feelings. However, it +cannot be helped; and I have no doubt the booksellers are right in +point of fact, for we are embarked on board too troublous times to +carry mere <i>passe temps</i> literature with us. "We must have bloody +noses and cracked crowns," <a name="Page_428" id="Page_428" ></a><span class="pagenum">[428]</span>I am afraid, and shall find small public +taste or leisure for <i>polite letters</i>.</p> + +<p>I like this place very well; it is very quiet, and my life is +always a happy one with my father. He always spoils me, and that is +always pleasant, you know.</p> + +<p>The Bristol people are rather in a bad state just now for our +purposes, for trade here is in a very unprosperous condition; and +the recent failure of many of their great mercantile houses does no +good to our theatrical ones. The audiences are very pleasant, +however, and the company by no means bad. We are here another week, +and then take ship for Ilfracombe, and thence by land to Exeter; +after that Plymouth and Southampton.... I wish I could be in London +for "Anna Bolena." I cannot adequately express my admiration for +Madame Pasta; I saw her in Desdemona the Saturday night on which I +scrawled those few lines to you. I think if you knew how every look +and tone and gesture of hers affects me, you would be satisfied. +She is almost equal to an imagination; more than that I cannot say. +If you rate "imagination" as I think you must, I need say nothing +more. We shall certainly be back in London by the end of September, +if not before. In the mean time believe me ever yours most truly,</p> + +<p class="signature">F. A. K.</p> + + +<p class="gap"><i>Sunday, July 10th.</i>—My father wickedly <i>dawdled</i> about till we +were nearly late for church, and had to scamper along the quays and +up the steep street, to poor dear Dall's infinite discomfiture, who +grumbled and puffed, and shuffled and shambled along, while I +plunged on, breathlessly ejaculating, "It is so hateful to be late +for church!" The cathedral (which I believe it is not) was quite +full, but we obtained seats in the organ gallery, where we could +not hear very well, but had a very fine view of the <i>coup d'œil</i> +presented by the choir and church below us. The numerous and +many-colored congregation, the white surpliced choristers, the +charity-school children in their uniforms surrounding the altar, +all framed in by the dark old oak screens with their quaint +readings, and partially vividly illuminated by occasional gleams of +strong sunlight which poured suddenly through the colored windows, +presented a beautiful picture. The service was very well performed: +the organ is a remarkably good one, and one or two of the boys' +voices were exquisitely soft and clear. It is a fine service, and +yet I do not like it by way of religious worship. It does not make +me devout, in the proper form of the term; it appeals too much to +my <a name="Page_429" id="Page_429" ></a><span class="pagenum">[429]</span>senses and my imagination; it is religion <i>set</i> to music and +painting, and artistic religion does not suit me. The incessant +passing of people through the church, too, disturbs one, and gives +an unpleasant air of irreverence to the whole.... I think I might +like to go to a cathedral for afternoon service, much as I like to +spend my Sunday leisure in reading Milton, though I should not be +satisfied to make my whole devotional <i>exercises</i> consist in +reading "Paradise Lost." A wretchedly weak, poor sermon; how +strange that such a theme should inspire nothing better than such a +discourse! However, I suppose this sort of ministering is the +inevitable result of a "ministry" embraced merely as a means of +subsistence. No one could paint pictures or compose music, <i>only</i> +because they wanted bread, so I do not see why any one should +preach sermons fit to be heard, only because they want bread. If I +was a despot, I would suppress hebdomadal writing of sermons, and +people should be <i>forbidden</i> instead of <i>bidden</i> to talk nonsense +upon sacred subjects.</p> + +<p><i>Monday, 11th.</i>—At night the theater was very full, and the +audience pleasant. During supper my father, Charles Mason, and I +had a long discussion about Kean. I cannot help thinking my father +wrong about him. Kean <i>is</i> a man of decided genius, no matter how +he neglects or abuses nature's good gift. He has it. He has the +first element of all greatness—power. No taste, perhaps, and no +industry, perhaps; but let his deficiencies be what they may, his +faults however obvious, his conceptions however erroneous, and his +characters, each considered as a whole, however imperfect, he has +the one atoning faculty that compensates for everything else, that +seizes, rivets, electrifies all who see and hear him, and stirs +down to their very springs the passionate elements of our nature. +Genius alone can do this.</p> + +<p>As an actor, one whose efforts are the result of study, of mental +research, reflection, and combination; as an intellectual +anatomist, whose knowledge must dissect, and then re-form and +reproduce again in beauty and harmony the image he has taken to +pieces; as an artist, who is bound to conceal both the first and +last processes, the dismembering of the parts and the reuniting +them in a whole, and whose business is to make the most deliberate +mental labor and the most studied personal effects appear the +spontaneous result of unpremeditated passion and emotion (feigned +passion and emotion, which are to appear real)—in capacity for all +this Kean may be defective. He may not be an actor, he may not be +an artist, but he <i>is</i> a man of genius, and instinctively with a +word, a look, a gesture, tears <a name="Page_430" id="Page_430" ></a><span class="pagenum">[430]</span>away the veil from the heart of our +common humanity, and lays it bare as it beats in every human heart, +and as it throbs in his own. Kean speaks with his whole living +frame to us, and every fiber of ours answers his appeal.</p> + +<p>I do not know that I ever saw him in any character which impressed +me as a <i>whole work of art</i>; he never seems to me to intend to be +any one of his parts, but I think he intends that all his parts +should be <i>him</i>. So it is not Othello who is driven frantic by +doubt and jealousy, nor Shylock who is buying human flesh by its +weight in gold, nor Sir Giles Overreach who is selling his child to +hell for a few years of wealth and power; it is Kean, and in every +one of his characters there is an intense personality of his <i>own</i> +that, while one is under its influence, defies all +criticism—moments of such overpowering passion, accents of such +tremendous power, looks and gestures of such thrilling, piercing +meaning, that the excellence of those <i>parts</i> of his performances +more than atones for the want of greater unity in conception and +smoothness in the entire execution of them.</p> + +<p>The discussion about Kean led naturally to some talk about his most +famous parts, particularly Shylock. My father's conception of +Shylock seems to me less the right one than Kean's; but then, if my +father took what <i>I</i> think the right view of the part, he would +have to give up acting it. The real Shylock—that is, +Shakespeare's—is a creature totally opposite in his whole +organization, physical and mental, to my father's; and as my father +cannot force his nature in any particular into uniformity with that +of Shylock, he endeavors to persuade himself that the theory by +which he tries to bring it into harmony with his individuality, and +within the compass of his powers, is the right one; but I think him +entirely mistaken about it. Kean did with the part exactly what my +father wants to do—adapted his conceptions to his means of +execution; but Kean's physical constitution was much better suited +to express Shylock as Shylock should be expressed than my father's. +My father attempts to make Shylock "poetical" (in the superficial +sense), because that is the bias of his own mind in matters of art. +Classical purity and refinement of taste are his specialties as an +actor, and neither power nor intensity.</p> + +<p>Shylock's master passion is not revenge, which is a savage, but +avarice, which is a sordid motive. His hatred is inspired more by +defeated hope of gain and positive losses and threatened ventures, +than by the personal insults and contumely he has received.</p> + +<p>Avarice is an absolutely base passion, and a grand poetical +<a name="Page_431" id="Page_431" ></a><span class="pagenum">[431]</span>character cannot consistently be raised upon such a foundation, nor +can a nature be at once groveling and majestic. Besides, +Shakespeare has not made Shylock "poetical." The concentrated venom +of his passion is prosaic in its vehement utterance—close, +concise, vigorous, logical, but not imaginative; and in the scenes +where his evil nature escapes the web of his cunning caution, and +he is stung to fury by his complicated losses, there is intense +passion but no elevation in his language.</p> + +<p>There is a vein of humor in Shylock. A grim, bitter, sardonic +flavor pervades the part, that blends naturally with the sordid +thrift and shrewd, watchful, eager vigilance of the miser. It +infuses a terrible grotesqueness into his rage, and curdles one's +blood in the piercing, keen irony of his mocking humility to +Antonio, and adds poignancy to the ferocity of his hideous revenge. +This Kean rendered admirably, and in this my father entirely fails, +but it is an important element of the character.</p> + +<p>My father is hard upon Kean's defects because they are especially +antagonistic to his artistic taste and tendency, but I think, too, +there is a slight infusion of the vexation of unappreciated labor +in my father's criticism of Kean. He forgets that power is +universally felt and understood, and refinement seldom the one or +the other, and for a thousand who applaud Kean's "What, wouldst +thou have a serpent sting thee twice?" probably not ten people are +aware of his exquisite "nevertheless" in the reading of Antonio's +letter. Most eyes can "see a church by daylight;" not many stop to +look at the lights and shadows that are forever varying and adding +to the beauty of its aspect. I wonder how, being as well aware as +my father is of all the fine work that escapes the eyes of the +public, he can care for this kind of thing as he does.</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday, 12th.</i>—We are having events at the theater, and not of a +pleasant sort. Mr. Brunton, the manager, is in "difficulties" +(civilized plural for debt), and it seems that last night during +the play one of his creditors put an execution into the theater, +and laid violent hands upon the receipts, which, as it was my +father's benefit, rather dismayed us. So after breakfast this +morning, having put out my dresses for my favorite Portia for +to-night, I went to the theater to ascertain if there was to be a +rehearsal or not. My father had gone in search of Mr. Brunton to +see how matters could be arranged, and at all events to represent +that we could not go on acting unless our money was secured to us. +Charles Mason, Dall, and I in the <a name="Page_432" id="Page_432" ></a><span class="pagenum">[432]</span>mean time found the poor actors +in the theater very much at a loss how to proceed, as it seemed +extremely doubtful whether there would be any performance; so we +returned home, where we found my father, who said that at all +events there must be a rehearsal, for it was absolutely necessary +if we did act to-night, and could do us no harm if we did not; so +we repaired again to the theater, where the scattered and scared +<i>corps dramatique</i> having been got together again, we proceeded to +business.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, 13th.</i>—Mr. K—— called and told us that some +arrangement had been made with the truculent creditor of our poor +manager by which <i>we</i> shall not lose any more in this unlucky +business. My father will be quit for about a hundred pounds. I am +very sorry for Mr. Brunton, but he should not have placed us in +such an uncomfortable position. My father has offered to act one +night beyond our engagement for the sake, if possible, of making up +to the actors the arrears of salary Mr. Brunton owes them. They are +all poor, hard-working people, earning no more than the means of +subsistence, and this withholding of their due falls very heavily +on them.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, 14th.</i>— ... At the theater the house was very good, and +the audience very pleasant. The play was "The Provoked Husband," +and I'm sure I play his provoking wife badly enough to provoke +anybody; but she's not a person to my mind, which is an artistic +view of the case.</p></div> + +<p>[My modes of dealing with my professional duties at this very unripe +stage of my career irresistibly remind me of a not very highly educated +female painter who had taken it into her head to make an historical +picture of Cleopatra. Sending to a friend for a few "references" upon +the subject of that imperial gypsy's character and career, she sent them +hastily back, saying she had relinquished her purpose, "having really no +idea Cleopatra was that sort of person."]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Friday, July 15th.</i>—Miserrima! I have broken a looking-glass! and +on Friday, too! What do I think will happen to me! Had a long talk +this morning with dear Dall about my dislike to the stage. I do not +think it is the acting itself that is so disagreeable to me, but +the public personal exhibition, the violence done (as it seems to +me) to womanly dignity and decorum in thus becoming the gaze of +every eye and theme of every tongue. If my audience was reduced to +my intimates and associates I should not mind it so much, I think; +but I am not quite sure that I should like it then.</p> + +<p>At the theater the house was very full, and the audience +particularly amiable. In the interval between the fourth and fifth +<a name="Page_433" id="Page_433" ></a><span class="pagenum">[433]</span>acts Charles Mason made a speech to them, informing them of Mr. +Brunton's distress, and our intention of acting for him on Monday. +They applauded very much, and I hope they will do more, and come. +My part of the charity is certainly not small; to be pulled and +pushed and dragged hither and thither, and generally "knocked +about," as the miserable Belvidera, for three mortal hours, is a +sacrifice of self which my conscience bears me witness is laudable. +I would much rather pay with my purse than my person in this case. +Unfortunately, je n'ai pas de quoi.</p> + +<p><i>Sunday, July 17th.</i>—To Redcliffe Church with my father and Dall. +What a beautiful old building it is!... What a sermon! Has the +truth, as our Church holds it, no fitter expounders than such a +preacher? Are these its stays, props, and pillars—teachers to +guide, enlighten, and instruct people as cultivated and intelligent +as the people of this country on the most momentous of all +subjects? Are these the sort of adversaries to oppose to men like +Channing? As for not going to church because of bad or foolish +sermons, that is quite another matter, though I not unfrequently +hear that reason assigned for staying away. One goes to church to +say one's prayers, and not to hear more or less fine discourses; +one goes because it is one's duty, and a delight and comfort, and a +quite distinct duty and delight from that of private prayer. A good +sermon, Heaven knows, is a rare blessing to be thankful for, but if +one went to church only in the expectation of that blessing, one +might stay away most Sundays in the year.</p></div> + +<p>[My youthful scorn of "poor preaching" reminds me of what I once heard +Edward Everett say, who, before becoming his country's "Minister," in +the diplomatic sense of the word, had been a powerful and eloquent +Unitarian preacher: "I hear a good deal of criticism upon sermons which +are supposed to be religious or moral exhortations, not intellectual +exercises. I dare say many sermons are not <i>first rate</i>, but moderate +good preaching is not a bad thing, and <i>pretty poor preaching</i> is better +than most men's practice."]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Monday, July 18th.</i>—The theater was crowded to-night, which +delighted me. It is pleasant to see malicious and evil actions +produce such a result. I was very nervous and excited, and nearly +went into hysterics over one small incident of the evening. At the +close of the first separation scene—the play was "Venice +Preserved"—when Jaffier is carried out by the nape of the neck by +Pierre, and Belvidera <i>extracted</i> on the other side in the arms +(and iron ones they were) of Bedamar, the <a name="Page_434" id="Page_434" ></a><span class="pagenum">[434]</span>audience of course were +affected, harrowed, overcome by the poignant pathos of the +situation. Charles looked woebegone. I called upon him in tones of +the most piercing anguish (an agony not entirely feigned, as my +bruises can bear witness). The curtain descended slowly amidst +sympathetic sobs and silence—the musicians themselves, deeply +moved, no doubt, with the sorrows of the scene, mournfully resumed +their fiddles, and struck up "ti <i>ti</i> tum <i>tiddle</i> un <i>ti</i> tum +<i>ti</i>"—the jolliest jig you ever heard. The bathos was +irresistible; we behind the scenes, the principal sufferers +(perhaps) in the night's performance, were instantly comforted, and +all but shouted with laughter. I hope the audience were equally +revived by this grotesque sudden cheering of their spirits. After +the tragedy a Bristolian Paganini performed a concerto on one +string. Dall declares that the whole orchestra played the whole +time—but some sounds reached me in my dressing-room that were +decidedly <i>unique</i> more ways than one, not at all unlike our +favorite French fantasia—"Complainte d'un cochon au lait qui +rêve." But the audience were transported; they clapped and the +fiddle squeaked, they shouted and the fiddle squealed, they +hurrahed and the fiddle uttered three terrific screams, and it was +over and Paganini is done for—here, at any rate. He need never +show face or fiddle here; he hasn't a string (even one) left to his +bow in Bristol. "So Orpheus fiddled," etc.</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday, July 19th.</i>—Dinner-party at the —— which ought to have +been chronicled by Jane Austen. I sat by a gentleman who talked to +me of the hanging gardens of Semiramis and what might have been +cultivated therein (hemp perhaps), then of the derivation of +languages—he still kept among roots—and finally of <i>tea</i>, which +he told me he was endeavoring to grow on the Welsh mountains. Some +of the table-talk deserved printing <i>verbatim</i>, only it was almost +too good to be true, or at any rate believed.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, July 20th.</i>—Charles Mason came after breakfast, and +told us that there was some chance of poor Mr. Brunton's getting +out of prison (into which his creditor has thrust him), for that +the latter had been so universally scouted for his harsh proceeding +that he probably would be shamed into liberating him.</p> + +<p>We shall not leave Bristol to-day. The wind is contrary and the +weather quite unfavorable for a party of pleasure, which our trip +by sea to Ilfracombe was to be. It's very disagreeable living half +in one's trunks and traveling-bags, as this sort of uncertainty +compels one to do. I studied Dante, wrote verses <a name="Page_435" id="Page_435" ></a><span class="pagenum">[435]</span>and sketched, and +tried to be busy; but a defeated departure leaves one's mind and +thoughts only half unpacked, and I felt idle and unsettled, though +I worked at "The Star of Seville" till dinner-time.</p> + +<p>After dinner I studied politics in the Examiner and read an article +on Cobbett, which made me laugh, and the motto to which might have +been "Malvolio, thou art sick of self-conceit." ...</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, July 21st.</i>—At dinner a discussion, suggested by Mr. +D——'s conduct to Mr. Brunton, on the subject of returning evil +for evil, and the difficulty of not doing so, if not deliberately +and in deed, upon impulse and by thought. Nothing is easier in such +matters than to say what one would do, and nothing, I suppose, more +difficult than to do what one should do. So God keep us all from +convenient opportunities of revenging ourselves....</p></div> + +<p>[Occasionally one hears in the streets voices in which the making of a +fortune lies, and when one remembers what fortunes some voices have +commanded, it seems bitterly cruel to think of such a possession begging +its bread for want of the chance that might have made it available by +culture. A woman, some years ago, used to sing at night in the +neighborhood of St. James's Street, whose voice was so exquisite, so +powerful, sweet, and thrilling, a mezzo soprano of such pure tone and +vibrating quality, that Lady Essex, my sister, and myself, at different +times, struck by the woman's magnificent gift and miserable position, +had her into our houses, to hear her sing and see if nothing could be +done to give her the full use of her noble natural endowment. She was a +plain young woman of about thirty, tolerably decently dressed, and with +a quiet, simple manner. She said her husband was a house-paperer in a +small way, and when he was out of employment she used to go out in the +evening and see what her singing would bring her. Poor thing! it was +impossible to do anything for her; she was too old to learn or unlearn +anything. No training could have corrected the low cockney vulgarity and +coarse, ignorant indistinctness and incorrectness of her enunciation. +And so in after years, as I returned repeatedly to England, after longer +or shorter intervals of time, and always inhabited the same neighborhood +in London, I still continued to hear, on dark drizzly evenings (and +never without a thrill of poignant pain and pity) this angel's voice +wandering in the muddy streets, its perfect, round, smooth edge becoming +by degrees blunted and broken, its tones rough and coarse and harsh, +some of the notes fading <a name="Page_436" id="Page_436" ></a><span class="pagenum">[436]</span>into feeble indistinctness—the fine, bold, +true intonation hiding its tremulous uncertainty in trills and quavers, +alternating with pitiful husky coughing, while every now and then one or +two lovely, rich, pathetic notes, surviving ruin, recalled the early +sweetness and power of the original instrument. The idea of what that +woman's voice might have been to her used to haunt me.</p> + +<p>It was hearing Rachel singing (barefoot) in the streets of Paris that +Jules Janin's attention was first excited by her. Her singing, as I +heard it on the stage in the drinking song of the extraordinary piece +called "Valeria," in which she played two parts, was really nothing more +than a chanting in the deep contralto of her speaking voice, and could +hardly pass for a musical performance at all, any more than her +wonderful uttering of the "Marseillaise," with which she made the +women's blood run cold, and the men's hair stand on end, and everybody's +flesh creep.</p> + +<p>My sister and I used often to plan an expedition of street-singing for +the purpose of seeing how much we could collect in that way for some +charity. We were to put ourselves in "poor and mean attire"—I do not +know that we were to "smirch our faces" with brown paint; we thought +large battered poke-bonnets would answer the purpose, and, thus +disguised, we were to go the rounds of the club windows, my father +walking at a discreet distance for our protection on one side of the +street, and our formidable pirate friend Trelawney on the other. We +never carried out this project, though I have no doubt it would have +brought us a very pretty penny for any endowment we might have wished to +make.]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Friday, July 22d.</i>—Long and edifying talk with dear Dall upon my +prospects in marrying. "While you remain single," says she, "and +choose to work, your fortune is an independent and ample one; as +soon as you marry, there's no such thing. Your position in +society," says she, "is both a pleasanter and more distinguished +one than your birth or real station entitles you to; but that also +is the result of your professional exertions, and might, and +probably would, alter for the worse if you left the stage; for, +after all, it is mere frivolous fashionable popularity." I ought to +have got up and made her a courtesy for that. So that it seems I +have fortune and fame (such as it is)—positive real advantages, +which I cannot give with myself, and which I cease to own when I +give myself away, which certainly makes my marrying any one or any +one marrying me rather a solemn consideration; for I lose +everything, and my <a name="Page_437" id="Page_437" ></a><span class="pagenum">[437]</span>marryee gains nothing in a worldly point of +view—says she—and it's incontrovertible and not pleasant. So I +took up Dante, and read about devils boiled in pitch, which +refreshed my imagination and cheered my spirits very much.</p></div> + +<p>[How far my ingenious mind was from foreseeing the days when men of high +rank and social station would marry singers, dancers, and actresses, and +be condescending enough to let their wives continue to earn their bread +by public exhibition, and even to appropriate the proceeds of their +theatrical labors! I have not yet made up my mind whether, in these +cases, the <i>gentleman</i> ought not to take his wife's name in private, as +a compensation for her not taking his in public. Poor Miss Paton's noble +husband was the only Englishman, that I know of, who committed that act +of self-effacement. To go much further back in dramatic and social +history, the old, accomplished, mad Earl of Peterborough married the +famous singer Anastasia Robinson, and refused to acknowledge the fact +till her death. To be sure, this was a more cowardly, but a less dirty +meanness. He withheld his name from her, but did not take her money.]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>It is settled now that we go to Exeter by coach, and now that we +have given up our pretty sea trip to Ilfracombe, the weather has +become lovely—perverse creature!—but I am glad we are going away +in every way.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday, Bristol, July 23d.</i> ... We started at eight, and taking +the whole coach to ourselves as we do, I think traveling by a +public conveyance the best mode of getting over the road. They run +so rapidly; there is so little time lost, and so much trouble with +one's luggage saved. The morning was gray and soft and promised a +fine day, but broke its promise at the end of our second stage, and +began to pelt with rain, which it continued to do the live-long +blessed day. We could see, however, that the country we were +passing through was charming. One or two of the cottages by the +roadside, half-smothered in vine and honeysuckle, reminded me of +Lady Juliana,<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> who, when she said she could live in a desert with +her lover, thought that it was a "sort of place full of roses." ... +These laborers' cottages were certainly the poor dwellings of very +poor people, but there was nothing unsightly, repulsive, or squalid +about them—on the contrary, a look of order, of tidy neatness +about the little houses, that added the peculiarly English element +of comfort and cleanliness to the picturesqueness of their fragrant +festoons of flowery drapery, hung over them <a name="Page_438" id="Page_438" ></a><span class="pagenum">[438]</span>by the sweet season. +The little plots of flower-garden one mass of rich color; the tiny +strip of kitchen-garden, well stocked and trimly kept, beside it; +the thriving fruitful orchard stretching round the whole; and +beyond, the rich cultivated land rolling its waving corn-fields, +already tawny and sunburnt, in mellow contrast with the smooth +green pasturages, with their deep-shadowed trees and bordering +lines of ivied hawthorn hedgerows, marking boundary-lines of +division without marring the general prospect—a lovely landscape +that sang aloud of plenty, industry, and thrift. I wonder if any +country is more blessed of God than this precious little England? I +think it is like one of its own fair, nobly blooming, vigorous +women; her temper—that's the climate—not perfection, to be sure +(but, after all, the old praise of it is true; it admits of more +constant and regular out-of-door exercise than any other); the +religion it professes, pure; the morality it practises, pure, +probably by comparison with that of other powerful and wealthy +nations. Oh, I trust that neither reform nor its extreme, +revolution, will have power to injure this healthily, heartily +constituted land....</p> + +<p class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a +href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> In Miss +Ferrie's novel, "Marriage."</p> + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Exeter</span>, July 24th, 1831.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dearest H——</span>,<br /> +</p> + +<p>We arrived here last night, or rather evening, at half-past six +o'clock, and I found your letter, which, having waited for me, +shall not wait for my answer....</p> + +<p>Thank you for John's translation of the German song, the original +of which I know and like very much. The thoughts it suggested to +you must constantly arise in all of us. I believe that in these +matters I feel all that you do, but not with the same intensity. To +adore is most natural to the mind contemplating beauty, might, and +majesty beyond its own powers; to implore is most natural to the +heart oppressed with suffering, or agitated with hopes that it +cannot accomplish, or fears from which it cannot escape. The +difference between natural and revealed religion is that the one +worships the loveliness and power it perceives, and the other the +goodness, mercy, and truth in which it believes. The one prays for +exemption from pain and enjoyment of happiness for body and mind in +this present existence; the other for deliverance from spiritual +evils, or the possession of spiritual graces, by which the soul is +fitted for that better life toward which it tends....</p> + +<p>I do not think "Juliet" has written to you hitherto, and I am +rather affronted at your calling me so. I have little or no +sympathy with, though much compassion for, that Veronese <a name="Page_439" id="Page_439" ></a><span class="pagenum">[439]</span>young +person.... There is but one sentiment of hers that I can quote with +entire self-application, and that is—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I have no joy of this contract to-night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In spite of which the foolish child immediately secures her lover's +word, appoints the time for meeting, and makes every arrangement +for following up the declaration she thought too sudden by its as +sudden execution. Poor Juliet! I am very sorry for her, but do not +like to be called after her, and do not think I am like her. I have +been working very hard every day since you left Bristol (my belief +is that Juliet was very idle). I am sorry to say I find my playing +very hard work; but easy work, if there is such a thing, would not +be best for me just now.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Yours ever,</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p> + + +<p class="gap"><i>Sunday, Exeter.</i>—To church with Dall and my father, a blessing +that I can never enjoy in London, where he is all but stared out of +countenance if he shows his countenance in a church, and it +requires more devotion to the deed than I fear he possesses to +encounter the annoyance attendant upon it. We heard an excellent +sermon, earnest, sober, simple, which I was especially grateful for +on my father's account. Women don't mind bad preaching; they have a +general taste for sermons, and, like children with sweeties, will +swallow bad ones if they cannot get good. "We have a natural turn +for religion," as A.F. said of me; but men, I think, get a not +unnatural turn against it when they hear it ill advocated....</p> + +<p>The day has been lovely, and from my perch among the clouds here I +am looking down upon a lovely view. Following the irregular line of +buildings of the street, the eye suddenly becomes embowered in a +thick rich valley of foliage, beyond which a hill rises, whose +sides are covered with ripening corn-fields, meadows of vivid +green, and fields where the rich red color of the earth contrasts +beautifully with the fresh hedgerows and tall, dark elm trees, +whose shadows have stretched themselves for evening rest down in +the low rosy sunset. It is all still and bright, and the Sabbath +bells come up to me over it all with intermitting sweetness, like +snatches of an interrupted angels' chorus, floating hither and +thither about the earth.</p> + +<p><i>Monday.</i>—We contrived to get some saddle-horses, and rode out +into the beautiful country round Exeter, but the preface to our +poem was rather dry prose. We rode for about an hour <a name="Page_440" id="Page_440" ></a><span class="pagenum">[440]</span>between +powdery hedges all smothered in dust, up the steepest of hills, and +under the hottest of suns; but we had our reward when we halted at +the top, and looked down upon a magnificent panorama of land and +water, hill and dale, broad smiling meadows, and dark shadowy +woodland—a vast expanse of various beauty, over which the eye +wandered and paused in slow contentment. As we came leisurely down +the opposite side of the hill, we met a gypsy woman, and I reined +up my horse and listened to my fortune: "I have a friend abroad who +is very fond of me." I hope so. "I have a relation far abroad who +is very fond of me too." I know so. "I shall live long." More is +the pity. "I shall marry and have three children." Quite enough. "I +shall take easily to love, but it will not break my heart." I am +glad to hear that. "I shall cross the sea before I see London +again." Ah! I am afraid not. "The end of my summer will be happier +than its beginning"—and that may very easily be. For that I gave +my prophetess a shilling. Oh, Zingarella! my blessing on your black +eyes and red-brown cheeks! May you have spoken true!...</p> + +<p>Meantime, my companions, my father and Mr. Kean, were discussing +the fortunes of Poland. If I were a man, with a hundred thousand +pounds at my disposal, I would raise a regiment and join the Poles. +The Russians have been beaten again, which is good hearing. Is it +possible this cause should fall to the earth? On our way home, had +a nice smooth, long canter by the river-side. We turned off our +road to visit a pretty property of Mr. F——'s, the house half-way +up a hill, prettily seated among pleasant woods. We galloped up +some fields above it to the brow of the rise, and had three +mouthfuls of delicious fresh breeze, and a magnificent view of +Exeter and the surrounding country.... After dinner, off to the +theater; it was my benefit, "The Gamester." The house was very +full, and I played and looked well; but what a Stukely! I was +afraid my eyes would scarcely answer my purpose, but that I should +have been obliged to "employer l'effort de mon bras" to keep him at +a proper distance. What ruffianly wooing! and not one of the actors +knew their parts. Stukely said to me in his love-speech, "Time has +not gathered the roses from your cheeks, though often washed them." +I had heard of Time as the thinner of people's hair, but never as +the washer of their faces.</p> + +<p><i>Sunday, July 31st.</i>—Went to church, to St. Sidwell's.... We had +another good sermon; that preacher must be a good man, and I should +like to know him....</p> + +<p><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441" ></a><span class="pagenum">[441]</span>Our dinner-party this evening was like nothing but a chapter out of +one of Miss Austen's novels. What wonderful books those are! She +must have written down the very conversations she heard <i>verbatim</i>, +to have made them so like, which is Irish.... How many things one +ought to die of and doesn't! That dinner did come to an end. In the +drawing-room afterward, in spite of the dreadful heat, two fair +female friends actually divided one chair between them; I expected +to see them run into one every minute, and kept speculating then +which they would be, till the idea fascinated me like a thing in a +nightmare. As we were taking our departure, and had got half way +down the stairs, a general rush was made at us, and an attempt, +upon some pretext, to get us back into that dreadful drawing-room. +I thought of Malebranche hooking the miserable souls that tried to +escape back again into the boiling pitch. But we got away and safe +home, and leave Exeter to-morrow.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Exeter</span>, July 31, 1831.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dearest H——</span>,<br /> +</p> + +<p>I am content to be whatever does not militate against your +affection for me.... I had a long letter from dear A——, a day +ago, from Weybridge. She is quite well, and says my mother is as +happy as the day is long, now she is once more in her beloved +haunts. I love Weybridge too very much.... It seems to me that +memory is the special organ of pain, for even when it recalls our +pleasures, it recalls only the past, and half their sweetness +becomes bitter in the process. I have a tenacious and acute memory, +and, as the phrenologists affirm, no hope, and feel disposed to +lament that, not having both, I have either. The one seems the +necessary counterpoise of the other; the one is the source of most +of the pain, as the other is of most of the pleasure, which we +derive from the things that are not; and I feel daily more and more +my deficiency in the more cheerful attribute....</p> + +<p>You have been to the Opera, and seen what even one's imagination +does not shrug its shoulders at; I mean Madame Pasta. I admire her +perfectly, and she seems to me perfect. How I wish I had been with +you! And yet I cannot fancy you in the Opera House; it is a sort of +atmosphere that I find it difficult to think of your breathing.... +I wish you had not asked me to write verses for you upon that +picture of Haydon's "Bonaparte at St. Helena." Of course, I know it +familiarly through the engraving, and, in spite of its sunshine, +what a shudder and chill it sends to one's heart! It is very +striking, <a name="Page_442" id="Page_442" ></a><span class="pagenum">[442]</span>but I have neither the strength nor concentrativeness +requisite for writing upon it. The simplicity of its effect is what +makes it so fine; and any poetry written upon it would probably +fail to be as simple, and therefore as powerful, as itself. I +cannot even promise you to attempt it, but if ever I fall in with a +suitable frame of mind for so bold an experiment, I will remember +you and the rocks of St. Helena. "My lady" (an Italian portrait on +which I had written some verses) "Mia Donna," or "Madonna," more +properly to speak, was a most beautiful Italian portrait that I +saw, not in Augustin's gallery, but in a small collection of +pictures belonging to Mr. Day, and exhibited at the Egyptian Hall. +Sir Thomas Lawrence told me when I described it to him, that he +thought it was a painting of Giordano's. It was a lovely face, not +youthful in its character of beauty; there is a calm seriousness +about the brow and forehead, a clear, intellectual severity about +the eye, and a sweet, still placidity round the mouth, that united, +to my fancy, all the elements of beauty, physical, mental, and +moral. What an incomparable friend that woman must have been! Why +is it that we rejoice that a soul fit for heaven is constrained to +tarry here, but that, in truth, the fittest for this is also the +fittest for that life? For it seems to me more natural not to wish +to detain the bright spirit from its brighter home, and not to +sorrow at the decree which calls it hence to perfect its excellence +in higher spheres of duty....</p> + +<p>I think a blight of uncertainty must have pervaded the atmosphere +when I was born, and penetrated, not certainly my nature, but my +whole earthly destiny, with its influence; from my plans and +projects for to-morrow on to those of next year, all is mist and +indistinct indecision. I suppose it is the trial that suits my +temper least, and therefore fits it best. It surely is that which +"willfulness, conceit, and egotism" find hardest to endure. +Yesterday I determined so far to escape from, or cheat, my destiny +as to have a peep into futurity by the help of a gypsy. Riding with +my father, and the whole hour, time, day, and scene, were in +admirable harmony: the dark, sunburnt face, with its bright, +laughing eyes and coal-black curls and flashing teeth; the old +gateway against which she was leaning; the blue summer sky and +sunny road skirted with golden corn-fields—the whole picture in +which she was set was charming.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I know it is a sin to be a mocker;"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and I am sure I need not tell you that I am sincerely grateful <a name="Page_443" id="Page_443" ></a><span class="pagenum">[443]</span>for +all the kindness and civility that is bestowed upon us wherever we +go.... What with riding, rehearsing, and acting, my days are +completely filled. We start for Plymouth to-morrow at eight, and +act "Romeo and Juliet" in the evening, which is rather laborious +work. We play there every night next week. When next I write I will +tell you of our further plans, which are at this moment still +uncertain....</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Affectionately yours,</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p></div> + +<p>[These were the days before railroads had run everything and everybody +up to London. There were still to be found then, in various parts of +England, life that was peculiar and provincial, and manners that had in +them a character of their own and a stamp of originality that had often +quite as much to attract as to repel. Men and women are, of course, +still the same that sat to that enchanting painter, Jane Austen, but the +whole form and color and outward framing and various countenance of +their lives have merged its distinctiveness in a commonplace conformity +to universal custom; and in regard to the more superficial subjects of +her fine and gentle satire, if she were to return among us she would +find half her occupation gone.]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Monday, August 1st.</i>—I got some books while waiting for the +coach, and we started at half-past eight. The heat was intolerable +and the dust suffocating, but the country through which we passed +was lovely. For a long time we drove along the brow of a steep +hill. The valley was all glorious with the harvest: corn-fields +with the red-gold billows yet untouched by the sickle; others full +of sunburnt reapers sweeping down the ripe ears; others, again, +silent and deserted, with the tawny sheaves standing, bound and +dry, upon the bristling stubble, on the ground over which they +rippled and nodded yesterday, a great rolling sea of burnished +grain. All over the sunny landscape peace and prosperity smiled, +and gray-steepled churches and red-roofed villages, embowered in +thick protecting shade, seemed to beckon the eye to rest as it +wandered over the charming prospect. The white-walled mansions of +the lords of the land glittered from the verdant shelter of their +surrounding plantations, and the thirsty cattle, beautiful in color +and in grouping, stood in pools in the deeper parts of the brooks, +where some giant tree threw its shadow over the water and the +smooth sheltered sward round its feet. In spite of this charming +prospect I was very sad, and the purple heather bordering the road, +with its thick tufts, kept suggesting Wey<a name="Page_444" id="Page_444" ></a><span class="pagenum">[444]</span>bridge and the hours I had +lately spent there so happily.... To shake myself I took up "Adam +Blair;" and, good gracious! what a shaking it did give me! What a +horrible book! And how could D—— have recommended me to read it? +It is a very fine and powerful piece of work, no doubt; but I +turned from it with infinite relief to "Quentin Durward." Walter +Scott is quite exciting enough for wholesome pleasure; there is no +poison in anything that he has ever written: for how many hours of +harmless happiness the world may bless him!</p> + +<p>At Totnes we got out of the coach to shake ourselves, for we were +absolute dust-heaps, and then resumed our powdery way, and reached +Plymouth at about four o'clock. As we walked up toward our +lodgings, we were met by Mr. Brunton, with the pleasing +intelligence that those we had bespoken had been let, by some +mistake, to another family. Dusty, dreary, and disconsolate, I sat +down on the stairs which were to have been ours, while Dall +upbraided the hostess of the house, and my father did what was more +to the purpose—posted off to find other apartments for us; no easy +matter, for the town is crammed to overflowing. In the mean time a +little blue-eyed fairy, of about two years old, came and made +friends with me, and I presently had her fast asleep in my lap. +After carrying my prize into an empty room, and sitting by it for +nearly half an hour while it slept the sleep of the blessed, I was +called away from this very new interest, for my father had +succeeded in finding house-room for us, and I had yet all my +preparations to make for the evening.</p> + +<p>The theater is a beautiful building for its purpose, of a perfectly +discreet size, neither too large nor too small, of a very elegant +shape, and capitally constructed for the voice. The house was very +<i>full</i>; the play, "Romeo and Juliet." I played abominably ill, and +did not like my audience, who must have been very good-natured if +they liked me.</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday, August 2d.</i>—Rose at seven, and went off down to the sea, +and that was delightful. In the evening the play was "Venice +Preserved." I acted very well, notwithstanding that I had to prompt +my Jaffier through every scene, not only as to words, but position +on the stage, and "business," as it is called. How unprincipled and +ungentlemanlike this is! The house was very fine, and a pleasanter +audience than the first night. Found a letter from Mrs. Jameson +after the play, with an account of Pasta's "Anna Bolena." How I +wish I could see it!</p> + +<p><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445" ></a><span class="pagenum">[445]</span><i>Wednesday, August 3d.</i>—Rose at seven, and went down to the sea to +bathe. The tide was out, and I had to wait till the nymphs had +filled my bath-tub.... At the theater in the evening, the play was +"The Stranger." The house not so good as last night, and the +audience were disagreeably noisy....</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, August 4th.</i>—They will not let me take my sea-bath +every morning; they say it makes me too weak. Do they mean in the +head, I wonder?... "Let the sanguine then take warning, and the +disheartened take courage, for to every hope and every fear, to +every joy and every sorrow, there comes a last day," which is but a +didactic form of dear Mademoiselle Descuillier's conjuring of our +impatiences: "Cela viendra, ma chère, cela viendra, car tout vient +dans ce monde; cela passera, ma chère, cela passera, car tout passe +dans ce monde." ... I finished my drawing, and copied some of "The +Star of Seville." I wonder if it will ever be acted? I think I +should like to see a play of mine acted. In the evening at the +theater, the play was "Isabella." The house was very full, and I +played well. The wretched manager will not afford us a green baize +for our tragedies, and we faint and fall and die upon bare boards, +and my unhappy elbows are bruised black and blue with their +carpetless stage, barbarians that they be!</p> + +<p><i>Friday, August 5th.</i>—Down to the sea at seven o'clock; the tide +was far out, the lead-colored strand, without its bright +foam-fringes, looked bleak and dreary; it was not expected to be +batheable till eleven, and as I had not breakfasted, I could not +wait till then. Lingered on the shore, as Tom Tug says, thinking of +nothing at all, but inhaling the fresh air and delicious sea-smell. +I stood and watched a party of pleasure put off from the shore, +consisting of a basket of fuel, two baskets of provisions, a +cross-looking, thin, withered, bony woman, wrapped in a large +shawl, and with boots thick enough to have kept her dry if she had +walked through the sea from Plymouth to Mount Edgecombe. Her +<i>tête-à-tête</i> companion was a short, thick, squat, stumpy, dumpy, +dumpling of a man, in a round jacket, and very tight striped +trousers. "Sure such a pair were never seen." The sour she, stepped +into their small boat first, but as soon as her fat playfellow +seated himself by her, the poor little cockle-shell dipped so with +the increased weight that the tail of the cross-shawl hung deep in +the water. I called after them, and they rectified the accident +without <a name="Page_446" id="Page_446" ></a><span class="pagenum">[446]</span>sending me back a "Thank you." I love the manners of my +country-folk, they are so unsophisticated with civility.</p> + +<p>At the theater the play was "The Gamester," for my benefit, and the +house was very fine. My father played magnificently; I "not even +excellent well, but only so-so." The actors none of them knew their +parts, abominable persons; and as for Stukely—well! Mdlle. +Dumesnil, in her great, furious scene in Hermione, ended her +imprecations against Orestes by spitting in her handkerchief and +throwing it in his face. The handkerchief spoils the frenzy. I +wonder if it ever occurred to Mrs. Siddons so to wind up her abuse +of Austria in "King John." By the by, it was when asked to give his +opinion of the comparative merits of Clairon and Dumesnil, that +Garrick said, "Mdlle. Clairon was the greatest actress of the age, +but that for Mdlle. Dumesnil he was not aware that he had seen her, +but only Phedre, Rodogund, and Hermione, when she did them." After +the play the audience clamored for my father. He thought that +"l'envie leur en passerait;" and not being in a very good humor, he +declined appearing. The uproar went on, the overture to the farce +was inaudible, and the curtain drew up amid the deafening shouts of +"Kemble! Kemble!"—they would not suffer the poor <i>farçeurs</i> to go +on, even in dumb show. I was at the side scene, and thought it +really a pity not to put an end to all the fuss; so I went to my +father, who was standing at the stage door in the street, and +requested him to stop the disturbance by coming forward at once. He +turned round, and without saying anything but "Tu me le +conseilles," walked straight upon the stage, and addressed the +audience as follows: "Ladies and gentlemen, I had left the theater +when word was brought to me that you had done me the honor to call +for me; as I conclude you have done so merely in conformity to a +custom which is becoming the fashion of calling for certain +performers after the play, I can only say, ladies and gentlemen, +that I enter my protest against such a custom. It is a foreign +fashion, and we are Englishmen; therefore I protest against it. I +will take my leave of you by parodying Mercutio's words: Ladies and +gentlemen, <i>bon soir</i>; there's a French salutation for you." So +saying he walked off the stage, leaving the audience rather +surprised; and so was I. I think he is laboring under an incipient +bilious attack.</p> + +<p>We had a long discussion to-day as to the possibility of women +being good dramatic writers. I think it so impossible that I +actually believe their physical organization is against it; and, +after all, it is great nonsense saying that intellect is of no sex. +<a name="Page_447" id="Page_447" ></a><span class="pagenum">[447]</span>The brain is, of course, of the same sex as the rest of the +creature; besides, the original feminine nature, the whole of our +training and education, our inevitable ignorance of common life and +general human nature, and the various experience of existence, from +which we are debarred with the most sedulous care, is insuperably +against it. Perhaps some of the manly, wicked Queens Semiramis, +Cleopatra, could have written plays; but they lived their tragedies +instead of writing them.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday, August 6th.</i>—After breakfast our excellent architect +came to fetch us for our expedition to the breakwater. My father +complained of being dreadfully bilious, a bad preparation for the +purpose. I wanted to stay at home with him, or at all events to put +off the party for an hour or two; but he would not hear of either +plan. So as soon as I was ready we set off. We walked first to the +M——s', and then proceeded in a body to the shore, where a +Government boat was waiting for us; and what a cargo we were, to be +sure! My father, certainly no feather; our worthy friend, who must +weigh eighteen stone, if a pound; Mr. and Mrs. W——, thinnish +bodies; but her friend, Dall, and myself decidedly thickish ones; +then the pilot, a gaunt, square Scotchman; and four stout sailors. +The gallant little craft courtesied and courtesied as she received +us, one by one, and at length, when we were all fairly and pretty +closely packed, she put off, and breasted the water bravely, rising +and dancing on the back of the waves like a dolphin. I should have +enjoyed it but for my father's ghastly face of utter misery. The +day was dull, the sky and sea lead-colored, the brown coast by +degrees lost its distinctness, and became covered with a dark haze +that seemed to blend everything into a still, stony, threatening +iron-gray mass. The wind rose, the sea became inky black and +swelled into heavy ridges, which made our little vessel dip deep +and spring high, as she toiled forward; and then down came the +rain—such tremendous rain! Cloaks, shawls, and umbrellas were +speedily produced; but we were two miles from shore, between the +rising sea and the falling clouds, sick, wet, squeezed. Oh the +delights of that party of pleasure! My father looked cadaverous, +Dall was portentously silent, I shut my eyes and tried to sleep, +being in that state when to see, or hear, or speak, or be spoken +to, is equally fatal. At length we reached the foot of the +breakwater, and I sprang out of the boat, too happy to touch the +stable rock. The rain literally fell in sheets from the sky, and +the wind blew half a hurricane; but I was on firm ground, and +taking off my bonnet, which only served the purpose of a +water-spout down <a name="Page_448" id="Page_448" ></a><span class="pagenum">[448]</span>my back, I ran, while Mr. M——, holding my arm, +strode along the mighty water-based road, while the angry sea, +turning up black caldrons full of boiling foam, dashed them upon +the barrier man has raised against its fury in magnificent, solemn +wrath. This breakwater is a noble work; the daring of the +conception, its vast size and strength, and the utility of its +purpose, are alike admirable. We do these things and die; we ride +upon the air and water, we guide the lightning and we bridle the +sea, we borrow the swiftness of the wind and the fine subtlety of +the fire; we lord it in this universe of ours for a day, and then +our bodies are devoured by these material slaves we have +controlled, and helplessly mingle their dust with the elements that +have obeyed our will, who reabsorb the garment of our soul when +that has fled—whither?</p> + +<p>The rain continuing to fall in torrents, and my father being +wretchedly unwell, we gave up our purpose of visiting Mount +Edgecombe, and returned to Plymouth. The sea was horribly rough, +even inside the breakwater; but I shut my eyes that I might not see +how we heaved, and sang that I might not think how sick I was: and +so we reached shore, and I ran up and down the steep beach while +the rest were disembarking, and the wind soon dried my light muslin +clothes. The other poor things continued drenched till we reached +home. After a good rest, we went to our dinner at Mr. W——'s; my +father was all right again, and our party, that had separated in +such dismal plight, met again very pleasantly in the evening. Mr. +W—— got quite tipsy with talking, an accident not uncommon with +eager, excitable men, and all but overwhelmed me with an argument +about dramatic writing, in which he was wrong from beginning to +end.... We leave Plymouth to-morrow.</p> + +<p><i>Sunday, August 7th.</i>—Started for Exeter at seven, and slept +nearly the whole way by little bits; between each nap getting +glimpses of the pleasant land that blended for a moment with my +hazy, dream-like thoughts, and then faded away before my closing +eyes. One patch of moorland that I woke to see was lovely—all +purple heather and golden gorse; nature's royal mantle thrown, it +is true, over a barren soil, whose gray, cold, rifted ridges of +rock contrasted beautifully with its splendid clothing. We got to +Exeter at two o'clock, and I was thankful to rest the rest of the +day.</p> + +<p><i>Monday, August 8th.</i>—I read old Biagio's preface to Dante, which, +from its amazing classicality, is almost as difficult as the +crabbed old Florentine's own writing. Worked at a rather elaborate +sketch tolerably successfully, and was charmingly in<a name="Page_449" id="Page_449" ></a><span class="pagenum">[449]</span>terrupted by +having our landlady's pretty little child brought in to me. She is +a beautiful baby, but will be troublesome enough by and by.... At +the theater the house was very good; I played tolerably well upon +the whole, but felt so fagged and faint toward the end of the play +that I could hardly stand.</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday, August 9th.</i>—I sometimes wish I was a stone, a tree, +some senseless, soulless, irresponsible thing; that ebbing sea +rolling before me, its restlessness is obedience to the law of its +nature, not striving against it, neither is it "the miserable life +in it" urging it to ceaseless turmoil and agitation. We dined +early, and then started for Dorchester, which we reached at +half-past ten, after a most fatiguing journey. It was a still, gray +day, an atmosphere and light I like; there is a clearness about it +that is pleasanter sometimes than the dazzle of sunshine. Some of +the country we drove through was charming, particularly the vale of +Honiton.... I have an immense bedroom here; a whole army of ghosts +might lodge in it. I hope, if there are any, they will be civil, +well-behaved, and, above all, invisible.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, August 10th.</i> ... At ten o'clock we started for +Weymouth, where we arrived in the course of an hour, and found it +basking on the edge of a lovely summer sea, with a dozen varying +zones of color streaking its rippling surface; from the deep, dark +purple heaving against the horizon to the delicate pearl-edged, +glassy golden-green that spreads its transparent sheets over the +sparkling sand of the beach. The bold chalky cliffs of the shore +send back the burning sunlight with blinding brightness, and +stretch away as far as eye can follow in hazy outlines, that +glimmer faintly through the shimmering mist. It is all very +beautiful.... I got ready my things for the theater, ... and when I +got there I was amused and amazed at its absurdly small +proportions; it is a perfect doll's playhouse, and until I saw that +my father really could stand upon the stage, I thought that I +should fill it entirely by myself. How well I remember all the +droll stories my mother used to tell about old King George III. and +Queen Charlotte, who had a passion for Weymouth, and used to come +to the funny little theater here constantly; and how the princesses +used to dress her out in their own finery for some of her parts. [I +long possessed a very perfect coral necklace of magnificent single +beads given to my mother on one of these occasions by the Princess +Amelia.] The play was "Romeo and Juliet," and our masquerade scene +was in the height of the modern fashion, for there was literally +not room to stir; and what be<a name="Page_450" id="Page_450" ></a><span class="pagenum">[450]</span>tween my nurse and my father I +suffered very nearly total eclipse, besides much danger of being +knocked down each time either of them moved. In the balcony, +besides me, there was a cloud, which occasionally interfered with +my hair, and I think must have made my face appear to the audience +like a chin and mouth speaking out of the sky. To be sure, this +inconvenient scenic decoration made rather more appropriate the +lines which Shakespeare wrote (only unfortunately Romeo never +speaks them), "Two of the stars," etc. I acted very well, but was +so dreadfully tired at the end of the play that they were obliged +to carry me up to my dressing-room, where I all but fainted away; +in spite of which, as I got out of the carriage at the door of our +lodging, hearing the dear voice of the sea calling me, I tried to +persuade Dall to come down to it with me; but she, thinking I had +had enough of emotion and exertion, made me go in and eat my supper +and go to bed, which was detestable on her part, and so I told her, +which she didn't mind in the least.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, August 11th.</i>—A kind and courteous and most courtly old +Mr. M—— called upon us, to entreat that we would dine with him +during our stay in Weymouth; but it is really impossible, with all +our hard work, to do society duty too, so I begged permission to +decline. After he was gone we walked down to the pier, and took +boat and rowed to Portland. The sky was cloudless, and the sea +without a wave, and through its dark-blue transparent roofing we +saw clearly the bottom, one forest of soft, undulating weeds, +which, catching the sunlight through the crystal-clear water, +looked like golden woods of some enchanted world within its depths; +and it looks just as weird and lovely when folks go drowning down +there, only they don't see it. I sang Mrs. Hemans's "What hid'st +thou in thy treasure-caves and cells?" and sang and sang till, +after rowing for an hour over the hardly heaving, smooth surface, +we reached the foot of the barren stone called Portland. We landed, +and Dall remained on the beach while my father and I toiled up the +steep ascent. The sun's rays fell perpendicularly on our heads, the +short, close grass which clothed the burning, stony soil was as +slippery as glass with the heat, and I have seldom had a harder +piece of exercise than climbing that rock, from the summit of which +one wide expanse of dazzling water and glaring white cliffs, that +scorched one's eyeballs, was all we had for our reward. To be sure, +exertion is a pleasure in itself, and when one's strength serves +one's courage, the greater the exertion the greater the pleasure. +We saw below us a rail<a name="Page_451" id="Page_451" ></a><span class="pagenum">[451]</span>road cut in the rock to convey the huge +masses of stone from the famous quarries down to the shore. The +descent looked almost vertical, and we watched two immense loads go +slowly down by means of a huge cylinder and chains, which looked as +if the world might hang upon them in safety. I lay down on the +summit of the rock while my father went off exploring further, and +the perfect stillness of the solitude was like a spell. There was +not a sound of life but the low, drowsy humming of the bees in the +stone-rooted tufts of fragrant thyme. On our return we had to run +down the steep, slippery slopes, striking our feet hard to the +earth to avoid falling; firm walking footing there was none. When +we joined Dall we found, to our utter dismay, that it was five +o'clock; we bundled ourselves <i>pêle-mêle</i> into the boat and bade +the boatman row, row, for dear life; but while we were indulging in +the picturesque he had been indulging in fourpenny, which made him +very talkative, and his tongue went faster than his arms. I longed +for John to make our boat fly over the smooth, burnished sea; the +oars came out of the water like long bars of diamond dropping gold. +We touched shore just at six, swallowed three mouthfuls of dinner, +and off to the theater. The play was "Venice Preserved." I dressed +as quick as lightning, and was ready in time. The house was not +very good, and I am sure I should have wondered if it had been, +when the moon is just rising over the fresh tide that is filling +the basin, and a delicious salt breeze blows along the beach, and +the stars are lighting their lamps in heaven; and surely nobody but +those who cannot help it would be breathing the gas and smoke and +vile atmosphere of the playhouse. I played well, and when we came +home ran down and stood a few minutes by the sea; but the moon had +set, and the dark palpitating water only reflected the long line of +lights from the houses all along the curving shore.</p> + +<p><i>Friday, August 12th, Portsmouth.</i>— ... The hotel where we are +staying is quite a fine house, and the Assembly balls used to be +held here, and so there is a fine large "dancing-hall deserted" of +which I avail myself as a music-room, having entire and solitary +possession of it and a piano.... At the theater the house was good, +and I played well....</p> + +<p><i>Monday, August 15th, Southampton.</i>—After breakfast practised till +eleven, and then went to rehearsal; after which Emily Fitzhugh came +for me, and we drove out to Bannisters. Poor Mrs. Fitzhugh was +quite overcome at seeing my father, whom she has not seen since +Mrs. Siddons's death; we left her with him to talk over Campbell's +application to her for my aunt's <a name="Page_452" id="Page_452" ></a><span class="pagenum">[452]</span>letters. He has behaved badly +about the whole business, and I hope Mrs. Fitzhugh will not let him +have them.... When we came in I went and looked at Lawrence's +picture of my aunt in the dining-room (now in the National Gallery; +it was painted for Mrs. Fitzhugh). It is a fine rich piece of +coloring, but there is a want of ease and grace in the figure, and +of life in the countenance, and altogether I thought it looked like +a handsome dark cow in a coral necklace. O ox-eyed Juno! forgive +the thought.... At the theater the house was good; the play was +"Romeo and Juliet," and I played well. While I was changing my +dress for the tomb scene—putting on my grave-clothes, in fact—I +had desired my door to be shut, for I hate that lugubrious +funeral-dirge. How I do hate, and have always hated, that stage +funeral business, which I never see without a cold shudder at its +awful unfitness. I can't conceive how that death's pageant was ever +tolerated in a theater. [I think Mrs. Bellamy, in her "Memoirs," +mentions that it was first introduced as a piece of new sensation +when she and Garrick were dividing the town with the efforts of +their rival managership.] At present the pretext for it is to give +the necessary time for setting the churchyard scene and for Juliet +to change her dress, which she has no business to do according to +the text, for it expressly says that she shall be buried in all her +finest attire, according to her country's custom. In spite of which +I was always arrayed in long white muslin draperies and veils, with +my head bound up, corpse fashion, and lying, as my aunt had +stretched me, on the black bier in the vault, with all my white +folds drawn like carved stone robes along my figure and round my +feet, with my hands folded and my eyes shut. I have had some bad +nervous minutes, sometimes fancying, "Suppose I should really die +while I am lying here, making believe to be dead!" and imagining +the surprise and dismay of my Romeo when I didn't get up; and at +others fighting hard against heavy drowsiness of over-fatigue, lest +I should be fast asleep, if not dead, when it came to my turn to +speak—though I might have depended upon the furious bursting open +of the doors of the vault for my timely waking. Talking over this +with Mrs. Fitzhugh one day she told me a comical incident of the +stage life of her friend, the fascinating Miss Farren. The devotion +of the Earl of Derby to her, which preceded for a long time the +death of Lady Derby, from whom he was separated, and his marriage +to Miss Farren, made him a frequent visitor behind the scenes on +the nights of her performance. One evening, in the famous scene in +Joseph Surface's <a name="Page_453" id="Page_453" ></a><span class="pagenum">[453]</span>library in "The School for Scandal," when Lady +Teazle is imprisoned behind the screen, Miss Farren, fatigued with +standing, and chilled with the dreadful draughts of the stage, had +sent for an armchair and her furs, and when this critical moment +arrived, and the screen was overturned, she was revealed, in her +sable muff and tippet, entirely absorbed in an eager conversation +with Lord Derby, who was leaning over the back of her chair.</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday, 16th, Southampton.</i>—After breakfast walked down to the +city wall, which has remnants of great antiquity they say, as old +as the Danes, one bit being still heroically called "Canute's +Castle."</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, August 17th.</i>—Went to the theater, and rehearsed "The +Stranger." On my return found Emily waiting for me, and drove with +her to Bannisters.... In the evening, at the theater, the house was +very good, but I played only so-so, and not at all excellent +well....</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, August 18th.</i>—While I was practising I came across that +pretty piece of ballad pathos, "The Banks of Allan Water," and sang +myself into sobbing. Luckily I was interrupted by Dall and my +father, who came in with a little girl, poor unfortunate! whose +father had brought her to show how well she deserved an engagement +at Covent Garden. She sat down to the piano at his desire, and +panted through the great cavatina in the "Gazza Ladra." Poor little +thing! I never heard or saw anything that so thoroughly impressed +me with the brutal ignorance of our people; for there is scarcely +an Englishman of that man's condition, situated as he is, who would +not have done the same thing. A child of barely ten years old made +to sing her lungs away for four hours every day, when it is not +possible yet to know what the character and qualities of her voice +will be, or even if she will have any voice at all. Wasting her +health and strength in attempting "The Soldier Tired" and "Di +piacer," it really was pitiful. We gave her plenty of kind words +and compliments, and sundry pieces of advice to him, which he will +not take, and in a few months no doubt we shall hear of little Miss +H—— singing away as a prodigy, and in a few years the voice, +health, and strength will all be gone, and probably the poor little +life itself have been worn out of its fragile case. Stupid +barbarian! After rehearsal drove to Bannisters.... In the evening, +at the theater, the play was "The Provoked Husband." The house was +very full; I played fairly well. I was rather tired, and Lady +Townley's bones ached, for I had been taking a rowing lesson <a name="Page_454" id="Page_454" ></a><span class="pagenum">[454]</span>from +Emily, and supplied my want of skill, tyro fashion, with a deal of +unnecessary effort.</p> + +<p><i>Friday, August 19th.</i>— ... It sometimes occurs to me that our +spirits, when dwelling with the utmost intensity of longing upon +those who are distant from us, must create in them some perception, +some consciousness of our spiritual presence, so that not by the +absent whom I love thinking of me, but by my thinking of them, they +must receive some intimation of the vividness with which my soul +sees and feels them. It seems to me as if my earnest desire and +thought must not bring those they dwell on to me, but render me in +some way perceptible, if not absolutely visible, to them.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Though thou see me not pass by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou shalt feel me with thine eye."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I fancy I must create my own image to their senses by the clinging +passion with which my thoughts dwell on them. And yet it would be +rather fearful if one were thus subject, not only to the disordered +action of one's own imagination, but to the ungoverned imaginations +of others; and so, upon the whole, I don't believe people would be +allowed to pester other people with their presence only by dint of +thinking hard enough and long enough about them. It would be +intolerable, and yet I have sometimes fancied I was thinking myself +visible to some one.... In the evening, at the theater, the house +was very good; the play was "The Gamester," and I played very ill. +I felt fagged to death; my work tires me, and I am growing old.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday, 20th.</i>—At Bannisters all the morning. Emily gave me two +charming Italian songlets, and then they drove us down to +Southampton. At the theater this evening the house was all but +empty, owing to some stupid blunder in the advertisement. The play +was "The School for Scandal," and I played well.... To-morrow I +shall be at home once more in smoky London.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Southampton</span>, August 19, 1831.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I do not like to defer answering you any longer, though I am not +very fit to write, for I am half blind with crying, and have a +torturing side-ache, the results of bodily fatigue and nervous +anxiety; but if I do not write to you to-night I know not when I +shall be able to do so, for I shall have to rehearse every morning +and to act every night, and I expect the <a name="Page_455" id="Page_455" ></a><span class="pagenum">[455]</span>intermediate hours will be +spent on the road to and from Bannisters, the Fitzhughs' place near +here. I have been traveling ever since half-past eight to-day, and, +have hardly been three hours out of the coach which brought us from +Weymouth, where we have been acting for the last week. Your letter +followed me from Plymouth, and right glad I was to get it.... I do +not know what I can write you of if not myself, and I dare say, +after all, my thoughts are more amusing to you, or rather, perhaps, +more useful, in your processes of observing and studying human +nature in general, through my individual case, than if I wrote you +word what plays we had been acting, etc., etc.... To meet pain, no +matter how severe, the mind girds up its loins, and finds a sort of +strength of resistance in its endurance, which is a species of +activity. To endure helplessly prolonged suspense is another matter +quite, and a far heavier demand upon all patient power than is in +one....</p> + +<p>So you have seen the railroad; I am so glad you have seen that +magnificent invention. I wish I had been on it with you. I wish you +had seen Stephenson; you would have delighted in him, I am sure. +The hope of meeting him again is one of the greatest pleasures +Liverpool holds out to me.... With regard to what are called "fine +people," and liking their society better than that of "not fine +people," I suppose a good many tolerable reasons might be adduced +by persons who have that preference. They do not often say very +wise or very witty things, I dare say; but neither do they tread on +one's feet or poke their elbows into one's side (figuratively +speaking) in their conversation, or commit the numerous solecisms +of manner of less well-bred people. For myself, my social position +does not entitle me to mix with the superior class of human beings +generally designated as "fine people." My father's indolence +renders their society an irksome exertion to him, and my mother's +pride always induces her to hang back rather than to make advances +to anybody. We are none of us, therefore, inclined to be very keen +tuft-hunters. But for these very reasons, if "fine people" seek me, +it is a decided compliment, by which my vanity is flattered. A +person with less of that quality might be quite indifferent to +their notice, but I think their society, as far as I have had any +opportunity of observing it, has certain positive merits, which +attract me irrespectively of the gratification of my vanity. Genius +and pre-eminent power of intellect, of course, belong to no class, +and one would naturally prefer the society of any individual who +possessed <a name="Page_456" id="Page_456" ></a><span class="pagenum">[456]</span>these to that of the King of England (who, by the by, is +not, I believe, particularly brilliant). I would rather pass a day +with Stephenson than with Lord Alvanley, though the one is a +coal-digger by birth, who occasionally murders the king's English, +and the other is the keenest wit and one of the finest gentlemen +about town. But Stephenson's attributes of genius, industry, mental +power, and perseverance are his individually, while Lord Alvanley's +gifts and graces (his wit, indeed, excepted) are, in good measure, +those of his whole social set. Moreover, in the common superficial +intercourse of society, the minds and morals of those you meet are +really not what you come in contact with half the time, while from +their manners there is, of course, no escape; and therefore those +persons may well be preferred as temporary associates whose manners +are most refined, easy, and unconstrained, as I think those of +so-called "fine people" are. Originality and power of intellect +belong to no class, but with information, cultivation, and the +mental advantages derived from education, "fine people" are perhaps +rather better endowed, as a class, than others. Their lavish means +for obtaining instruction, and their facilities for traveling, if +they are but moderately endowed by nature and moderately inclined +to profit by them, certainly enable them to see, hear, and know +more of the surface of things than others. This is, no doubt, a +merely superficial superiority; but I suppose that there are not +many people, and certainly no class of people, high, low, or of any +degree, who go much below surfaces.... If you knew how, long after +I have passed it, the color of a tuft of heather, or the smell of a +branch of honeysuckle by the roadside, haunts my imagination, and +how many suggestions of beauty and sensations of pleasure flow from +this small spring of memory, even after the lapse of weeks and +months, you would understand what I am going to say, which perhaps +may appear rather absurd without such a knowledge of my +impressions. I think I like fine places better than "fine people;" +but then one accepts, as it were, the latter for the former, and +the effect of the one, to a certain degree, affects one's +impressions of the other. A great ball at Devonshire House, for +instance, with its splendor, its brilliancy, its beauty, and +magnificence of all sorts, remains in one's mind with the +enchantment of a live chapter of the "Arabian Nights;" and I think +one's imagination is still more impressed with the fine residences +of "fine people" in the country, where historical and poetical +associations combine with all the refinements of luxurious +civilization and all the most exquisitely cultivated beauties of +nature to <a name="Page_457" id="Page_457" ></a><span class="pagenum">[457]</span>produce an effect which, to a certain degree, frames +their possessors to great advantage, and invests them with a charm +which is really not theirs; and if they are only tolerably in +harmony with the places where they live, they appear charming too. +I believe the pleasure and delight I take in the music, the lights, +the wreaths, and mirrors of a splendid ball-room, and the love I +have for the smooth lawns, bright waters, and lordly oaks of a fine +domain, would disgracefully influence my impressions of the people +I met amongst them. Still, I humbly trust I do not like any of my +friends, fine or coarse, only for their belongings, though my +intercourse with the first gratifies my love of luxury and excites +what my Edinburgh friends call my ideality. I don't think, however. +I ever could like anybody, of any kind whatever, that I could not +heartily respect, let their intellectual gifts, elegance, or +refinement of manners be what they might. Good-by, dearest H——.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Ever your affectionate</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, October 3, 1831.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I received your last letter on Thursday morning, and as I read it +exclaimed, "We shall be able to go to her!" and passed it to Dall, +who seemed to think there was no reason why we should not, when my +father said he was afraid it could not be managed, as the theater, +upon second arrangements, would require me before this month was +over. It seems to me that, instead of one disappointment, I have +had twenty about coming to you, dear H——, and the last has fairly +broken the poor camel's back. My father promised to see what could +be done for me, and to get me spared as long as possible; but the +final arrangement is, that on the 24th I shall have to act Queen +Katharine, for which, certainly, a week of daily rehearsals will be +barely sufficient preparation. This, you see, will leave me hardly +time enough to stay at Ardgillan to warrant the fatigue and expense +of the journey. I am afraid it would be neither reasonable nor +right to spend nearly a week in traveling and the money it must +cost, to pass a fortnight with you.... Give my love to your sister, +and tell her how willingly I would have accepted her hospitality +had circumstances permitted it; but "circumstances," of which we +are so apt to complain, may, perhaps, at some future time, allow me +to be once more her guest. The course of events is, after all, far +more impartial than, in moments of disappointment, we are apt to +admit, and quite as often procures us unexpected and unthought-of +<a name="Page_458" id="Page_458" ></a><span class="pagenum">[458]</span>pleasures as defeats those we had proposed for ourselves. Pazienza! +Dear Dall, who, I see, has produced her invariable impression upon +your mind, bids me thank you for the kind things you say of her, at +the same time that she says, "though they are undeserved, she is +thankful for the affection that dictates them." She is excellent. +You bid me tell you of my father, and how his health and spirits +continue to struggle against his exertions and anxieties: tolerably +well, thank God! I sometimes think they have the properties of that +palm tree which is said to grow under the pressure of immense +weights. He looks very well, and, except the annoyances of his +position in the theater, has rather less cause for depression than +for some time past. Though we have not yet obtained our "decree," +we understand that the Lord Chancellor says openly that we shall +get it, so that uncertainty of the issue no longer aggravates the +wearisome delays of this unlucky appeal.... I need not tell you +what my feeling about acting Queen Katharine is; you, who know how +conscious I am of my own deficiencies for such an undertaking, will +easily conceive my distress at having such a task assigned me. +Dall, who entirely agrees with me about it, wishes me to +remonstrate upon the subject, but that I will not do. I am in that +theater to earn my living by serving its interests, and if I was +desired to act Harlequin, for those two purposes, should feel bound +to do so. But I cannot help thinking the management short-sighted. +I think their real interest, as far as I am concerned, which they +overlook for some immediate tangible advantage, is not to destroy +my popularity by putting me into parts which I must play ill, and +not to take from my future career characters which require physical +as well as mental maturity, and which would be my natural resources +when I no longer become Juliet and her youthful sisters of the +drama. But of course they know their own affairs, and I am not the +manager of the theater. Those who have its direction, I suppose, +make the best use they can of their instruments.</p></div> + +<p>[My performance of Queen Katharine was not condemned as an absolute +failure only because the public in general didn't care about it, and the +friends and well-wishers of the theater were determined not to consider +it one. But as I myself remember it, it deserved to be called nothing +else; it was a school-girl's performance, tame, feeble, and ineffective, +entirely wanting in the weight and dignity indispensable for the part, +and must sorely have tried the patience and forbearance of such <a name="Page_459" id="Page_459" ></a><span class="pagenum">[459]</span>of my +spectators as were fortunate and unfortunate enough to remember my aunt; +one of whom, her enthusiastic admirer, and my excellent friend, Mr. +Harness, said that seeing me in that dress was like looking at Mrs. +Siddons through the diminishing end of an opera-glass: I should think my +acting of the part must have borne much the same proportion to hers. I +was dressed for the trial scene in imitation of the famous picture by +Harlow, and of course must have recalled, in the most provoking and +absurd manner, the great actress whom I resembled so little and so much. +In truth, I could hardly sustain the weight of velvet and ermine in +which I was robed, and to which my small girlish figure was as little +adapted as my dramatic powers were to the matronly dignity of the +character. I cannot but think that if I might have dressed the part as +Queen Katharine really dressed herself, and been allowed to look as like +as I could to the little dark, hard-favored woman Holbein painted, it +would have been better than to challenge such a physical as well as +dramatic comparison by the imitation of my aunt's costume in the part. +Englishmen of her day will never believe that Katharine of Arragon could +have looked otherwise than Mrs. Siddons did in Shakespeare's play of +"Henry VIII.;" but nothing could in truth be more unlike the historical +woman than the tall, large, bare-armed, white-necked, Juno-eyed, +ermine-robed ideal of queenship of the English stage. That quintessence +of religious, conscientious bigotry and royal Spanish pride is given, +both in the portraits of contemporary painters and in Shakespeare's +delineation of her; the splendid magnificence of my aunt's person and +dress, as delineated in Harlow's picture, has no affinity whatever to +the real woman's figure, or costume, or character.]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, October 12, 1831.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dearest</span> H——, +</p> + +<p>I received my book and your letter very safely about a week ago, +and would have written to say so sooner, but have been much +occupied with one thing and another that has prevented me. So you +are beaten, <i>vieilles perukes</i> that you are! not by one or two, but +by forty-one; and your bones are all the likelier to ache, and I am +not at all sorry. Think of Brougham going down on his marrow-bones +(there can be none in them, though), and adjuring the Lords, con +quella voce! e quel viso! to pass the Bill, like good boys, and +remember the schoolmaster, who surely, when he is at home, cannot +be said to be abroad. A good <i>coup de théâtre</i> is not an easy +thing, and <a name="Page_460" id="Page_460" ></a><span class="pagenum">[460]</span>requires a good deal of tact and skill. I cannot help +thinking there must have been something grotesque in this +performance of Brougham's, as when Liston turned tragedian and +recited Collins's "Ode to the Passions" in a green coat and top +boots. The excitement, however, was tremendous; the House thronged +to suffocation; as many people crammed into impossible space as the +angels in the famous Needle-point controversy. Lady Glengall +declares that she sat for four hours on an iron bar. I think this +universal political effervescence has got into my head. And what +will you do now? You cannot create forty-one Peers; the whole Book +of Genesis affords no precedent. I suppose Parliament will be +prorogued, ministers will go out, a "cloth of gold" and "cloth of +frieze" Government, with Brougham and Wellington brought together +into it, will be cobbled, and a new Bill, which will set the teeth +of the Lords so badly on edge, will be concocted, which the people +will accept rather than nothing, if they are taken in the right +way. That, I suppose, is what you Whigs will do; for an adverse +majority of forty-one must be turned somehow or other, as it can +hardly be gone straight at by folks who mean to keep on the box, or +hold the reins, or carry the coach to the end of the journey....</p> + +<p>I do not know at all how I should like to live in a palace; I am +furiously fond of magnificence and splendor, and not unreasonably, +seeing that I was born in a palace, with a sapphire ceiling hung +with golden lamps, and velvet floors all embroidered with +sweet-smelling, lovely-colored flowers, and walls of veined marble +and precious, sparkling stones. I almost doubt if any mere royal +palace would be good enough for me, or answer my turn. I should +like all the people in the world to be as beautiful as angels, and +go about crowned with glory and clothed with light (dear me, how +very different they are!); but failing all that I should like in +the way of enormously beautiful things, I pick up and treasure like +a baby all the little broken bits of splendor and sumptuousness, +and thank Heaven that their number and gradations are infinite, +from the rainbow that the sun spans the heavens with, to the fine, +small jewel drawn from the bowels of the earth to glitter on a +lady's neck....</p> + +<p>My dearest H——, I wish I were with you with all my heart, but, as +if to diminish my regret by putting the thing still further beyond +the region of possibility, I act next Monday the 17th, instead of +the 24th. (They say "a miss is as good as a mile;" why does it +always seem so much worse, then?) I begin with Belvidera, and have +already begun my cares and woes and tribulations about lilac satins +and silver tissues, etc., etc. Young <a name="Page_461" id="Page_461" ></a><span class="pagenum">[461]</span>is engaged with us, and plays +Pierre, and my father Giaffir, which will be very dreadful for me; +I do not know how I shall be able to bear all his wretchedness as +well as my own. To be a good politician one ought to have, as it +were, only one eye for truth; I do not at all mean to be +single-eyed in the good sense of the word, but to be incapable of +seeing more than one side of every question: one sees a part so +much more strongly when one does not see the whole of a matter, and +though a statesman may need a hundred eyes, I maintain that a party +politician is the better for having only one. Restricted vision is +good for work, too; people who see far and wide can seldom be very +hopeful, I should think, and hope is the very essence of working +courage. The matter in hand should always, if possible, be the +great matter to those who have to carry it through, and though +broad brains may be the best for conceiving, narrow ones are, +perhaps, the best for working with.</p> + +<p>Thank you for your quotation from Sir Humphry Davy; it did me good, +and even made me better for five minutes; and your Irish letter, +which interested me extremely. "Walking the world." What a sad and +touching expression; and how well it describes a broken and +desponding spirit! And yet what else are we all doing, in soul if +not in body? Is not that solitary, wandering feeling the very +essence of our existence here?</p> + +<p>You ask if the interests of the theater and mine are not identical? +No, I think not. The management seems to me like our Governments +for some time past, to be actuated by mere considerations of +temporary expediency; that which serves a momentary purpose is all +they consider. But it stands to reason that if they make me play +parts in which I must fail, my London popularity must decrease, and +with it my provincial profits; and that, of course, is a serious +thing. In short, dear H——, where success means bread and butter, +failure means dry bread, or none; and I hate the last, I believe, +less than the first, though, as I never tried starvation, perhaps +dry bread is nicer....</p> + +<p>The excitement about the Bill is rising instead of subsiding. The +shops are all shut, and the people meeting in every direction; the +windows of Apsley House have been smashed, and Wellington's statue +(the Achilles in the Park) pelted and threatened to be pulled down. +They say that Nottingham and Belvoir Castles are burnt down. All +this is bad, and bodes, I fear, worse. Good-by, dear.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Your affectionate</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p> + + +<p class="gap"><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462" ></a><span class="pagenum">[462]</span><i>Thursday, August 22d.</i>—I read some of "Cibber's Lives." I should +like to read a well-written French life of Alin Chartier, Louis +XI.'s ugly secretary, whose mouth Queen Margaret kissed while he +was sleeping, "parce qu'elle avait dit de si belles choses." In the +life, or rather the death, of Sackville, he notes his sitting up +till eleven at night as a manifest waste of human existence. It is +near two in the morning as I am now writing, but people's notions +change as to time as well as other things. We don't dine at twelve +any more. Macdonald, the sculptor, dined with us; I like him for +dear Scotland's sake, and the blessed time I passed there. After +the gentlemen came up into the drawing-room, Nourrit, the great +French tenor, sang delightfully for us; Adelaide sang and played, +and Nourrit made her try a charming duet from the "Dame Blanche," +which I accompanied, and was frightened to death for self and +sister. Macdonald wants to make a statue of me in "The Grecian +Daughter," at the moment of veiling the face: he is right. An +interval of some time elapsed, in which I did not keep my journal +regularly. I had a long visit from my friend Miss S——. The +lawsuit about the theater continued, the affairs of the concern +becoming more and more involved in difficulties every day; and my +father, worried almost to death with anxiety, vexation, and hard +work, had a serious illness.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday, November 25th.</i>—My father was not quite so well this +morning. I took Dr. Wilson home in the carriage; he talked a great +deal about this horrible burking business (a series of atrocious +murders committed by two wretches of the names of Burk and Bishop, +for the purpose of obtaining, for the corpses of their victims, the +price paid by the Edinburgh surgeons for subjects for dissection; +the mode of death inflicted by these men came to be designated by +the name of the more hardened murderer as burking).</p> + +<p>I called at Fozzard's for the boys, and set them down at Angelo's +(a famous school for fencing, boxing, and single-stick, where my +brothers took lessons in those polite exercises). In the evening, +at the theater, dear Charles Young played "The Stranger" for the +last time; the house was very full, and I played very ill. After +the play Young was enthusiastically called for. I have finished +"Tennant's Tour in Greece," which I rather liked. I have been +reading "Bonaparte's Letters to Joséphine;" the vague and doubting +spirit which once or twice throws its wavering shadow across his +thoughts, startles one in contrast with the habitual tone of the +mind, which assuredly <i>ne doubtait de rien</i>, especially of what his +own power of <a name="Page_463" id="Page_463" ></a><span class="pagenum">[463]</span>will could accomplish. The affection he expresses for +his wife is sometimes almost poetical from its intensity, in spite +of the grossness of his language. He seems to have believed in +nothing but volition, and that volition is in itself, perhaps, a +mere form of faith. It's a dangerous worship, for the devil in that +shape does obey so long and so well before he claims his due; so +much is achieved precisely by that belief in what can be achieved; +the last round of the ladder, somehow or other, however, always +seems to break down at last, and then I doubt if the people who +fall from it can all declare, as Holcroft did when he fell from his +horse, and, as his surgeon assured him, broke his ribs, that he was +positive he had not, because in falling he had exerted the energy +of will, and could not therefore have broken his bones.</p> + +<p><i>Sunday, 29th.</i>—The great good fortune of a good sermon at church. +After church Mrs. Jameson, John Mason, and Mr. Loudham called; the +latter said he had good news about that fatal theater of ours, for +that Mr. Harris seemed to be inclined to come into some +accommodation, and so perhaps this cancer of a Chancery suit may +stop eating our lives away. Oh dear! I am afraid this is too good +news to be true. I went to my father's room and sat by him for a +long time, and talked about the horse I had bought for him; and +there he lies in his bed, and God knows when he will even be able +to walk again.</p> + +<p><i>Monday, 30th.</i>—I went to rehearsal. It seems that the managers +and proprietors (of course not my poor father) had summoned a +meeting of all the actors to try and induce them to accept for the +present a reduced rate of salary till the theater can be in some +measure relieved of its most pressing difficulties. I knew nothing +of this, and, finding them all very solemnly assembled in the +greenroom, asked them cheerfully why they were all there, which +must have struck them strangely enough. I dare say they do not know +how little I know, or wish to know, about this disastrous concern. +On my return home, I heard that Dr. Watson had seen my father, and +requested that Dr. Wilson might be sent for. They fear inflammation +of the lungs; he has gone to the very limit of his tether, for had +he continued fagging a night or two longer the effects might have +been fatal. Poor, poor father!...</p> + +<p>Lady Francis and Mrs. Sullivan called in the afternoon; I was +feeling miserable, and exhausted with my rehearsal. In the evening +I helped my mother to move all the furniture, which I think is +nothing in the world but a restless indication <a name="Page_464" id="Page_464" ></a><span class="pagenum">[464]</span>of her anxiety about +my father; it is the fourth time since she same back from the +country.</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday, December 1st.</i>— ... It seems that in the arrangement, +whatever it may be, which has taken place between the actors and +the management, Mr. Harley and Mr. Egerton are the only ones who +have declined the proposed accommodation. Young has behaved like an +angel, offering to play for nothing till Christmas; how kind and +liberal he is! Mr. Abbott, Mr. Duraset, Mr. Ward, and all the +others, have been as considerate and generous as possible. But the +thing is doomed, and will go to the ground, in spite of every +effort that can be made to stave the ruin off.</p> + +<p>I was greeted this morning, when I came down to breakfast, with a +question that surprised and amused we very much. "Pray, Fanny," +said John, "did you ever thank Mr. Bacon (one of the editors of the +<i>Times</i>) for his book (the "Life of Francis I." which Mr. Bacon had +been kind enough to send me); for here is a very abusive critique +in to-day's <i>Times</i> of the play last night." "Well," thought I, +"that's a comical <i>sequitur</i>, and a fine estimate of criticism;" +but the conclusion was droller still. I had not forgotten to thank +the friendly author for his book, nor had he written the article in +question; but it seems a young gentleman, much in love with Miss +Phillips (a promising and very handsome young actress at Drury +Lane), had found pulling me to pieces the easiest way of showing +his admiration for her. That is not a very exalted style of +criticism either, but it is just as well that one should +occasionally know what the praise and blame one receives may be +worth. It seems that when it was determined that Miss Sheriff +should come out, Mr. Welsh, whose pupil she was, made a great +feast, and invited two-and-twenty gentlemen connected with the +press to a private hearing of her.... In the evening, we all went +to hear her, being every way much interested in her success. John +and Henry went into the front of the house; my mother, Dr. Moore +(the Rev. Dr. Moore, a great friend of my father and mother's), and +myself, went up to our own box. The house was crammed, the pit one +black, crowded mass. Poor child! I turned as cold as ice as the +symphony of "Fair Aurora" (the opera was "Artaxerxes") began, and +she came forward with Mr. Wilson. The bravos, the clapping, the +noise, the great sound of popular excitement overpowering in all +its manifestations; and the contrast between the sense of power +conveyed by the acclamations of a great concourse of people, and +the weakness of the individual object of that demonstra<a name="Page_465" id="Page_465" ></a><span class="pagenum">[465]</span>tion, gave +me the strangest sensation when I remembered my own experience, +which I had not seen. When I saw the thousands of eyes of that +crowded pitful of men, and heard their stormy acclamations, and +then looked at the fragile, helpless, pretty young creature +standing before them trembling with terror, and all woman's fear +and shame in such an unnatural position, I more than ever marveled +how I, or any woman, could ever have ventured on so terrible a +trial, or survived the venture. It seemed to me as if the mere gaze +of all that multitude must melt the slight figure away like a +wreath of vapor in the sun, or shrivel it up like a scrap of silver +paper before a blazing fire. It made poor Dr. Moore and myself both +cry, but there was a deal more sympathy in my tears than in his; +for I had known the dizzy terror of that moment, had felt the +ground slide from under my feet and the whole air become a sea of +fiery rings before my swimming eyes. Besides my fellow-feeling for +her actual agony, I had one for what her after trials may be, and I +hoped for her that she might be able to see the truth of all things +in the midst of all things false; and then, if she takes pleasure +in her gilded toys, she will not have too bitter a heartache when +they are broken. She sang well, and soon recovered from her fright, +which, even from the first, did not affect her voice. She is rather +pretty, but does not walk or move gracefully; she was well dressed, +all but her hair, which was dressed in the present frizzy French +fashion, and looked ridiculous for Mandane. Her singing was good, +of a good style; I do not mean only that she sang "Fly, soft ideas, +fly," and "Monster away!" and "The Soldier Tired," brilliantly, +because they do not test the best singing, but the <i>soave +sostenuto</i> of her "If e'er the cruel tyrant love," and "Let not +rage thy bosom firing," were specimens of the best and most +difficult school of singing. They were flowing, smooth, soft, and +sweet, without trick or device of mere florid ornamentation, and +were as intrinsically good in her execution as they are admirable +in that peculiar style of composition. Her shake is not genuine, +and some of her rapid descending scales want finish and accuracy; +her use of her arms and her gestures were very pretty and graceful, +and we were all greatly pleased with her. Braham was magnificently +great, in spite of his inches. What a noble artist he is! and with +what wonderful vigor he acts through his singing! being no actor at +all the moment he stops singing. Wilson sang out of tune; the music +is not in his voice, and he was frightened. Miss Cawse was rather a +dumpy Artaxerxes, which is an impertinent remark for me to make; +<a name="Page_466" id="Page_466" ></a><span class="pagenum">[466]</span>she has a beautiful contralto voice. The opera went off +brilliantly, and after it the audience called for "God Save the +King," which was performed. Paganini was in the box opposite to us; +what a cadaverous-looking creature he is! Came home and saw my +father, and gave him the report of Miss Sheriff's success....</p> + +<p><i>Friday, December 2d.</i>— ... I went to see Cecilia Siddons; I +thought her looking aged and thin, and Mrs. Wilkinson (Mrs. +Siddons's companion for many years previous to her death) looking +sad and ill too. They have both lost the one idea of their whole +lives.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday, 3d.</i>— ... It seems the doctors recommend my father's +going to Brighton. I was urging him to do so this morning.... After +tea I looked on the map for Rhodez, the scene of that horrible +Fualdes tragedy (a murder the commission of which involved some +singular and terribly dramatic incidents). I read Daru's "History +of Venice" till bedtime.</p> + +<p><i>Sunday, December 4th.</i>— ... My father, for the first time this +fortnight, was able to dine with us. After dinner I read the whole +trial of Bishop and Williams, and their confession. My mother is +reading aloud to us Lord Edward Fitzgerald's Life.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, December 4, 1831.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dear</span> H——, +</p> + +<p>It is at the sensible hour of a quarter-past twelve at night that I +begin this immense sheet of paper, and with the sensible purpose of +filling it before I go to bed.... What an unsatisfactory invention +letter-writing is, to be sure; and yet there is none better for the +purpose. When you asked me so affectionately in your letter whether +I was going to bed, I concluded naturally that you were writing to +me instead of doing so yourself; but I received the letter at +half-past nine in the morning, when I was getting ready to ride. +This sort of epistolary cross-questions and crooked answers is +sometimes droll, but oftener sad: we weep with those who did weep, +when they have dried their eyes; and rejoice with those who did +rejoice, but the corners of whose mouths are already drawn down for +crying, while we fancy we are smiling sympathetically with them.... +You ask me how the world goes with me, and I can only say round, as +I suppose it does with everybody. All goes on precisely as usual +with me; my life is exceedingly uniform, and it is seldom that +anything occurs to disturb its monotonous routine. My dear father, +thank Heaven, is bet<a name="Page_467" id="Page_467" ></a><span class="pagenum">[467]</span>ter, but still very weak, and I fear it will be +yet some time before he recovers his strength. He came down to +dinner to-day for the first time in this fortnight; indeed, it is +only since the day before yesterday that he has left his bed; but I +trust that this attack will serve him for a long time, and that +with rest and quiet he will regain his strength.</p> + +<p>I am really glad my aunt Kemble is better, though I remember having +some not unpleasant ideas as to how, if she were not, you would go +to Leamington to nurse her, and so come on and stay with us in +London; but I cannot wish it at the price of her prolonged +indisposition, poor woman!... I am sorry to say my father is +pronounced worse to-day; he has a bad side-ache, and they are +applying mustard poultices to overcome it. There is some +apprehension of a return of fever. This is a real and terrible +anxiety, dear H——. The theater, too, is going on very ill, and he +is unable to give it any assistance; and for the same reason I can +do nothing for it, for all my plays require him, except Isabella +and Fazio, and these are worn threadbare. It is all very gloomy; +but, however, time doth not stand still, and will some day come to +the end of the journey with us.... You say Undine reminds you of +me.... The feeling of an existence more closely allied to the +elements of the material universe than even we acknowledge our +dust-formed bodies to be, possesses me sometimes almost like a +little bit of magnus; bright colors, fleeting lights and shadows, +flowers, and above all water, the pure, sparkling, harmonious, +powerful element, excite in me a feeling of intimate fellowship, of +love, almost greater than any human companionship does. Perhaps, +after all, I am only an animated morsel of my palace, this +wonderful, beautiful world. Do you not believe in numberless, +invisible existences, filling up the vast intermediate distance +between God and ourselves, in the lonely and lovely haunts of +nature and her more awful and gloomy recesses? It seems as if one +must be surrounded by them; I do not mean to the point of merely +suggesting the vague "suppose?" <i>that</i>, I should think, must visit +every mind; but rather like a consciousness, a conviction, +amounting almost to certainty, only short of seeing and hearing. +How well I remember in that cedar hall at Oatlands, the sort of +invisible presence I used to feel pervading the place. It was a +large circle of huge cedar trees in a remote part of the grounds; +the paths that led to it were wild and tangled; the fairest flower, +the foxglove, grew in tall clumps among the foliage of the thickets +and shrubberies that divided the lawn into undulating glades of +turf <a name="Page_468" id="Page_468" ></a><span class="pagenum">[468]</span>all round it; a sheet of water in which there was a rapid +current—I am not sure that it was not the river—ran close by, and +the whole place used to affect my imagination in the weirdest way, +as the habitation of invisible presences of some strange +supernatural order. As the evening came on, I used frequently to go +there by myself, leaving our gentlemen at table, and my mother and +Lady Francis in the drawing-room. How I flew along by the syringa +bushes, brushing their white fragrant blossoms down in showers as I +ran, till I came to that dark cedar hall, with its circle of giant +trees, whose wide-sweeping branches spread, at it were, a halo of +darkness all round it! Through the space at the top, like the open +dome of some great circular temple, such as the Pantheon of Rome, +the violet-colored sky and its starry worlds looked down. Sometimes +the pure radiant moon and one fair attendant star would seem to +pause above me in the dark framework of the great tree-tops. That +place seemed peopled with spirits to me; and while I was there I +had the intensest delight in the sort of all but conscious +certainty that it was so. Curiously enough, I never remember +feeling the slightest nervousness while I was there, but rather an +immense excitement in the idea of such invisible companionship; but +as soon as I had emerged from the magic circle of the huge black +cedar trees, all my fair visions vanished, and, as though under a +spell, I felt perfectly possessed with terror, and rushed home +again like the wind, fancying I heard following footsteps all the +way I went. The moon seemed to swing to and fro in the sky, and +every twisted tree and fantastic shadow that lay in my path made me +start aside like a shying horse. I could have fancied they made +grimaces and gestures at me, like the rocks and roots in Retsch's +etchings of the Brocken; and I used to reach the house with cheeks +flaming with nervous excitement, and my heart thumping a great deal +more with fear than with my wild run home; and then I walked with +the utmost external composure of demure propriety into the +drawing-room, as who should say, "Thy servant went no whither," to +any inquiry that might be made as to my absence....</p> + +<p>It seems to me that you would be a poet but for your analyzing, +dissecting, inquiring, and doubting mental tendency. Your truth is +not a matter of intuition, but of demonstration; and when you get +beyond demonstrability, then nothing remains to you but doubt.... +God bless you, dear!</p> + +<p class="yours"> +I am yours ever affectionately,</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p> + + +<p class="gap"><i>Monday, December 5th.</i>— ... My father is worse again <a name="Page_469" id="Page_469" ></a><span class="pagenum">[469]</span>to-day. +Ohimé! His state is most precarious, and this relapse very +alarming. It is dreadful to see him drag himself about, and hear +his feeble voice. Oh, my dear, dear Father! Heaven preserve you to +us!</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday, 6th.</i>—My father is much worse. How terrible this is!... +Dall met me on the stairs this morning, and gave me a miserable +account of him; he had just been bled, and that had somewhat +relieved him. I went and sat with him while my mother drove out in +the carriage. I stayed a long while with him, and he seemed a +little better.... My father's two doctors have returned again, and +paid him two visits daily. I read Daru all the evening.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, 7th.</i>— ... So I am to play Belvidera on Monday, and +Bianca on Wednesday. That will be hard work; Bianca is terrible.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, 8th.</i>— ... My dear father is beginning to gain strength +once more, thank Heaven! I received a letter from Lady Francis +about the play (a translation of the French piece of "Henri Trois," +by Lord Francis, the production of which at Covent Garden is being +postponed in consequence of my father's illness). Poor people! I am +sorry for their disappointment.... I devised and tried on a new +dress for Bianca; it will be very splendid, but I am afraid I shall +look like a metal woman, a golden image. [The dress in question was +entirely made of gold tissue; and one evening a man in the pit +exclaimed to a friend of mine sitting by him, "Oh! doesn't she look +like a splendid gold pheasant?" the possibility of which comparison +had not occurred to me, not being a sportsman.]</p> + +<p><i>Friday, 9th.</i>— ... I went with my mother to the theater to hear +"Fra Diavolo," with which, and Miss Sheriff's singing in it, we +were delighted.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday, 10th.</i>— ... We had a talk about the fashion of southern +countries of serenading, which I am very glad is not an English +fashion. Music, as long as I am awake, is a pure and perfect +delight to me, but to be wakened out of my sleep by music is to +wake in a spasm of nervous terror, shaking from head to foot, and +sick at my stomach, with indescribable fear and dismay; certainly +no less agreeable effect could possibly be contemplated by the +gallantry of a serenading admirer, so I am glad our admirers do not +serenade us English girls. This picturesque practice prevails all +through the United States, where the dry brilliancy of the climate +and skies is favorable to the paying and receiving this melodious +homage, and where <a name="Page_470" id="Page_470" ></a><span class="pagenum">[470]</span>musical bands, sometimes numbering fifty, are +marshaled by personal or political admirers, under the balconies of +reigning beauties or would-be-reigning public men. My total +ignorance of this prevailing practice in the United States led to a +very prosaic demonstration of gratitude on my part toward my first +serenaders; for I opened my window and rewarded them with a dollar, +which one of the recipients informed me he should always keep, to +my no small confusion, not knowing the nature of my gratuitous +indulgence, and that, like my Lady Greensleeves in the old English +ballad, "My music still to play and sing" would be, while I +remained in America, a disinterested demonstration of the devotion +of my friends.... My poor mother is in the deepest distress about +my father. Inflammation of the lungs is dreaded, and he is spitting +blood. I felt as if I were turning to stone as I heard it. I came +up to my own room and cried most bitterly for a long time. In the +afternoon I was allowed to go in and see my father; but I was so +overcome that, as I stooped to kiss his hand, I was almost +suffocated with suppressed sobs. I did control myself, however, +sufficiently to be able to sit by him for a while with tolerable +composure. Cecilia and Mrs. Wilkinson called, and were very kind +and affectionate to me. They brought news that Harry Siddons had +arrived in India and been sent off to Delhi. My brother Henry, poor +child, came and lay on the sofa in my room, and we cried together +almost through the whole afternoon, in spite of our efforts to +comfort each other. My heart dies away when I think of my dear +father.... I got a very kind and affectionate letter from Lady +Francis; she wants us very much to go again to Oatlands. After all, +perhaps it would not be so sad there as I think, though it must +appear changed enough in some respects, if not in all. Everything +is winter now, within and without me; and when I was last there it +was summer, in my heart and over all the earth. My cedar palace is +there still, and to that I should bring more change than I should +find. Poor Undine! how often I think of that true story. When I +went to the theater my heart really sickened at my work; my eyes +smarted, and my voice was broken, with my whole day's crying. The +house seemed good; I played ill, and felt very ill. Lord M—— was +in the stage-box, which annoyed me. I hate to have my society +acquaintance close to me while I am acting. The play was "Venice +Preserved." After I came home I saw my father, who is a little +better; but now Henry is quite unwell, and I am in a high fever—I +suppose with all this wretchedness and exertion.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471" ></a><span class="pagenum">[471]</span><i>Thursday, 13th.</i>—My father has passed a quieter night, thank God. +I went to Fozzard's riding-school with John, and tried a hot little +hunter that they want to persuade Lady Chesterfield to ride—a very +pretty creature, but quite too eager for the school. While I was +riding Lady Grey came in, very much frightened, upon her horse, +which was rather fresh. She took Gazelle, which I was riding, and I +rode her horse tame for her. It is very odd that, riding as well as +she does, she should be so miserably nervous on horseback.... I +drove to Mrs. Mayo's, who impressed and affected me very much. +Those magnificent eyes of hers are becoming dim; she is growing +blind, with eyes like dark suns. I could not help expressing the +deep concern I felt for such a calamity. She replied that doubtless +it was a trial, but that she saw many others afflicted with +dispensations so much heavier than her own, that she was content. +To grow blind contentedly is to be very brave and good, and I +admired and loved her even more than I did before. When I came +home, I went and sat with my father. He has decided that we shall +not go to Oatlands, and I am hardly sorry for it.</p> + +<p><i>Friday, 14th.</i>—Went over my part for to-night.... Victoire came +with me to the theater instead of Dall, whose whole time is taken +up attending on my father. The house was bad, and I thought I acted +very ill, though Victoire and John, who was in the front, said I +did not. Henry Greville was in the boxes, and to my surprise went +from them to the pit, though I ought not to have been surprised, +for, for such a fine gentleman, he is a very sensible man. Colonel +and Lady C. Cavendish were in the orchestra, and how I did wish +them further. I do so wonder, in the middle of my stage despair, +what business my drawing-room acquaintances have sitting staring at +it. My dress was beautiful. As for the audience, I do not know what +ailed them, but they seemed to have agreed together only to applaud +at the end of the scenes, so that I got no resting interruptions, +and was half dead with fatigue at the end of the play. I read +Daru's "Venice" between the scenes, and saw my father for a few +minutes after I came home.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, 15th.</i>—Had a delightful long letter from H——, who is +a poet without the jingle.... Another physician is to be called in +for my father. Oh, my dear father! Mr. Bartley was with him about +this horrible theater business.... My mother went in the evening +with John to hear Miss Sheriff in Polly. It is her first night in +"The Beggar's Opera," and <a name="Page_472" id="Page_472" ></a><span class="pagenum">[472]</span>my father wished to know how it went. I +stayed at home with poor Henry, and after tea sat with my father +till bedtime.</p> + +<p><i>Friday, 16th.</i>—Went to the theater at eleven, and rehearsed +Isabella in the saloon, the stage being occupied with a rehearsal +of the pantomime. When my rehearsal was over, the carriage not +being come, I went down to see what they were doing. There was poor +Farleigh, nose and all (a worthy, amiable man, and excellent comic +character, with a huge excrescence of a nose), <i>qui se déménait</i> +like one frantic; huge Mr. Stansbury, with a fiddle in his hand, +dancing, singing, prompting, and swearing; the whole <i>corps de +ballet</i> attitudinizing in muddy shoes and poke-bonnets, and the +columbine, in dirty stockings and a mob-cap, ogling the harlequin +in a striped shirt and dusty trousers. What a wrong side to the +show the audience will see!</p> + +<p>My father is better, thank God! After dinner sat with poor Henry +till time to go to the theater. Played Isabella. House bad. I +played well; I always do to an empty house (this was my invariable +experience both in my acting and reading performances, and I came +to the conclusion that as my spirits were not affected by a small +audience, they, on the contrary, were exhilarated by the effect +upon my lungs and voice of a comparatively cool and free +atmosphere). I read Daru between my scenes; I find it immensely +interesting.... I read Niccolini's "Giovanni di Procida," but did +not like it very much; I thought it dull and heavy, and not up to +the mark of such a very fine subject.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday, 17th.</i>— ... My father, thank God, appears much +better.... I have christened the pretty mare I have bought "Donna +Sol," in honor of my part in "Hernani." In the evening I read Daru, +and wrote a few lines of "The Star of Seville;" but I hate it, and +the whole thing is as dead as ditch-water.</p> + +<p><i>Sunday, 18th.</i>—To church.... After I came home I went and sat +with my father. Poor fellow! he is really better; I thank God +inexpressibly!</p> + + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, December 18.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dear H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I have had time to write neither long nor short letters for the +last week; Mr. Young's engagement being at an end, I have been +called back to my work, and have had to rehearse, and to act, and +to be much too busy to write to you until to-day, when I have +caught up all my arrears.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_473" id="Page_473" ></a><span class="pagenum">[473]</span>My father, thank God, is once more recovering, but we have twice +been alarmed at such sudden relapses that we hardly dare venture to +hope he is really convalescent. Inflammation on the lungs has, it +seems, been going on for a considerable time, and though they think +now that it has entirely subsided, yet, as the least exertion or +exposure may bring it on again, we are watching him like the apples +of our eyes. He has not yet left his bed, to which he has now been +confined more than a month....</p> + +<p>The exertion I have been obliged to make when leaving him to go and +act, was so full of misery and dread lest I should find him worse, +perhaps dead, on my return, that no words can describe what I have +suffered at that dreadful theater. Thank God, however, he is now +certainly better, out of present danger, and I trust and pray will +soon be beyond any danger of a relapse. Anything like Dall's +incessant and unwearied care and tenderness you cannot imagine. +Night and day she has watched and waited on him, and I think she +must have sunk under all the fatigue she has undergone but for the +untiring goodness and kindness of heart that has supported her +under it all. She is invaluable to us all, and every day adds to +her claims upon our love and gratitude....</p> + +<p>In the passage you quote from Godwin, he seems to think a friend of +more use in reproving what is evil in us than I believe is really +the case. Do you think our faults and follies can ever be more +effectually sifted, analyzed, and condemned by another than by our +own conscience? I do not think if one could put one's heart into +one's friends' hand that they could detect one defect or evil +quality that had not been marked and acknowledged in the depths of +one's own consciousness. Do you suppose people shrink more from the +censure of others than from self-condemnation? I find it difficult +to think so.... You appear to me always to wish to submit your +faith to a process which invariably breaks your apparatus and +leaves you very much dissatisfied, with your faith still a simple +element in you, in spite of your endeavors to analyze or decompose +it. Are not, after all, our convictions our only steadfastly +grounded faith? I do not mean conviction wrought out in the loom of +logical argument, where one's understanding must have shuttled +backward and forward through every thread a thousand times before +the woof is completed, but the spiritual convictions, the +intuitions of our souls, that lie upon their surface like direct +reflections from heaven, distinct and beautiful enough for reverent +contemplation, but a curious search into <a name="Page_474" id="Page_474" ></a><span class="pagenum">[474]</span>whose nature would, at any +rate temporarily, blur and dissipate and destroy....</p> + +<p>The sense of power which man cannot control is one thing that makes +the sea such a delightful object of contemplation; the huge white +main, and deep, tremendous voice of the vast creature over which +man's daring and his knowledge give him but such imperfect mastery, +suggest images of strength which are full of sublime fascination as +one stands on the shore, looking at the vasty deep, and remembers +how precarious and uncertain is man's dominion over it, and how God +alone rules and governs it. It is impossible not to rejoice in the +great sense of its huge power and freedom, even though their +manifestations toward men are so often terrible and destructive.... +Oh yes, indeed, I, like Wallenstein, have faith in the "strong +hours," and hold their influence the more efficacious that we +seldom think of resisting it; or, if we do, are seldom successful +in the attempt....</p> + +<p>The theater is going on very ill, but negotiations are pending +between the partners, which it is hoped may eventually terminate in +some arrangement with the creditors about the property. I have been +acting Bianca again; I certainly am not jealous, and cannot imagine +being so, any more of my husband than of my friend. I doubt if I +have the power of loving which produces jealousy, in spite of which +that part tries me dreadfully. I can conceive no torment comparable +to that passion, which, however, I think is foreign to my own +nature. I am reading Daru's "History of Venice," and am rather +disappointed in the entertainment I expected to derive from it. It +is a pretty long undertaking, too.... Remember me to all your +people; and since you will have it that I am twin-sister to a +fountain, remember me to my cousin, the dear little spring in the +dell, which I love the more that it sometimes reflects your face +and figure, as well as the fairies who dance round it by night. Do +you hear that poor Lord Grey is said to be haunted by a vision of +Lord Castlereagh's head? It sounds like a temptation of the devil +to scare him into cutting his throat. Lord Brougham and the Duke of +Wellington seem to me the only two men likely to keep their heads +in these times of infinite political perturbation; but the one is +made of steel, and the other of india-rubber.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Yours, dearest, always,</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p> + + +<p class="gap"><i>Monday, 19th.</i>—Went to Fozzard's, and had a pleasant, gossiping +ride with Lady Grey and Miss Cavendish. While I was <a name="Page_475" id="Page_475" ></a><span class="pagenum">[475]</span>still riding, +the Duchess of Kent and our little queen that is to be came down +into the school; I was presented to them at their desire, and +thought Princess Victoria a very unaffected, bright-looking girl. +Fozzard made me gallop round; I think he is rather proud of showing +me off.... My father is not so well again to-day. How dreadful +these alternations are! I read Daru all the afternoon, and then +sang in my own room to amuse Henry, till dinner-time. Colonel +Bailey sent me the mare's saddle and bridle, and after dinner the +boys put them on a chair for me, and gave me an absurd make-believe +ride.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, 21st</i>—Dear Mr. Harness called, and I received him. He +tells me that at the theater they want to do his tragedy ("The Wife +of Antwerp," was, I think, the name of the piece) without my +father; but this seems to me really sheer madness. The play is a +pretty, interesting, well-written piece, and, well propped and +sustained, may perhaps succeed for a few nights, but as to throwing +the whole weight, or rather weakness of it, upon my shoulders, or +any one pair of shoulders, it is folly to think of it. It is not a +powerful sort of monologue like "Fazio," where the interest centres +in one person and one passion, and therefore if that character is +well sustained the rest can shift for itself. It is no such matter; +it is a play of incident and not of character, and must be played +by people and not one person. What terrible bad management! But, +poor people! what can they do, with my father lying disabled there? +If it was not for their complete disregard for their own interest, +I should be inclined to quarrel with them for the way in which they +are ruining mine; and I sincerely hope, for the sake of everybody +concerned, that Mr. Harness will resist this senseless proposition.</p> + +<p>I went with John in the afternoon to Angerstein's Gallery (M. +Angerstein's fine collection of pictures was not then incorporated +in the National Gallery, of which it subsequently became so +important a portion); there are some new pictures there. Unluckily, +we had only an hour to stay, but I brought away a great deal with +me for so short a time. Among the additions was a very singular old +painting, "The Holy Family," by one of the earliest masters, whose +name I forget, not being familiar with it. I looked long at the +glorious Titian, the "Bacchus and Ariadne," which always reminds me +of—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Whence come ye, jolly Satyrs, whence come ye?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like to a moving vintage down they came."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><a name="Page_476" id="Page_476" ></a><span class="pagenum">[476]</span>One of the most famous pictures here is "Our Saviour disputing with +the Doctors," by Leonardo da Vinci. I hardly ever receive pleasure +from his pictures; there is a mannerism in all that I have seen +that is positively disagreeable to me. How the later artists lost +the simple secret of earnest vigor of their predecessors, while +gaining in everything that was not that! Grace, finish, refinement, +accuracy of drawing, richness of coloring, all that merely tended +towards perfection and execution, while the simplicity and +single-heartedness of conception died away more and more. All art +seems by degrees to outgrow its strength, and certainly in painting +the archaic cradle touches one's imagination as neither the +graceful youth nor mature manhood do. "Le mieux c'est l'ennemi du +bien" in nothing more than the progress of art after a certain +period of its development, and when its mere mechanism is best +understood, and applied in the most masterly manner. The spirit has +tarried behind, and we have to return to seek it among the earlier +days, when the genius of man was like a giant, rude, naked, and +savage, but vigorous and free—unadorned indeed, but also +untrammeled. Only a certain proportion of excellence is allowed to +our race, but that is granted; and let us stretch it, expand it, +roll and beat it out as we will, it is still but the same square +inch made thin to cover a greater surface. For one good we still +must yield another; we have no gain that is not loss, no +acquisition but surrender, "exchange" which may perhaps be "no +robbery," though quantity does seem a poor substitute for quality +in matters of beauty. I wish I had lived in the times when the ore +lay in the ingot (and had been one of the few who owned a nugget), +instead of in these times of universal gold-leaf, glitter without +weight, and shining shallowness of mere surface. Vigor is better +than refinement, and to create better than to improve, and to +conceive better than to combine. I wonder if the world, or rather +the human mind, will ever really grow decrepit, and the fountain of +beauty in men's souls run dry to the dregs; or will the +manifestations only change, and the eternal spirit reveal itself in +other ways?...</p> + +<p>On our way home I had a long and interesting talk with John about +the different forms of religious faith into which the gradual +development of the human mind has successively expanded; each, of +course, being the result of that very development, acting on the +original necessity to believe in and worship and obey something +higher and better than itself, implanted in our nature. It seems +strange that he has a leaning to Roman <a name="Page_477" id="Page_477" ></a><span class="pagenum">[477]</span>Catholicism, which I have +not. Our Protestant profession appears to me the purest +creed—form—that Christianity has yet arrived at; but, I suppose, +a less spiritual one, or perhaps I should say external +accompaniments, affecting more palpably the senses and imagination, +are wholesome and necessary to the cultivation and preservation of +the religious sentiment in some minds. Catholicism was the faith of +the chivalrous times, of the poetical times, of times when the +creative faculty of man poured forth in since unknown abundance +masterpieces of every kind of beauty, as manifestations of the +pious and devout enthusiasm. Protestantism is undoubtedly the faith +of these times; a denying faith, a rejecting creed, a questioning +belief, its evil seems essentially to coincide with the worst +tendency of the present age, but its good seems to me positive and +unconditional, independent of time or circumstance; the best, in +that kind, that the believing necessity in our nature has yet +attained. Rightly understood and lived up to, the only service of +God which is intellectual freedom, as all His service, lived up to, +under what creed soever, is moral freedom. And it is in some sort +in spite of myself that I say this, for my fancy delights in all +the devout and poetical legendary conceptions which the stern hand +of reason has stripped from our altars.</p> + +<p>I found a letter at home from Emily Fitzhugh; she writes me word +she has been revising my aunt Siddons's letters; thence an endless +discussion as to the nature of genius, what it is. I suppose really +nothing but the creative power, and so it remains a question if the +greatest actor can properly be said to possess it. Again, how far +does the masterly filling out of an inferior conception by a +superior execution of it, such as really great actors frequently +present, fall short of creative power, properly so called? Is it a +thing positive, of individual inherent quality, or comparative, and +composed of mere respective quantity? Can its manifestation be +partial, and restricted to one faculty, or must it be a pervading +influence, permeating the whole mind? Certainly Mrs. Siddons was +what we call a great dramatic genius, and off the stage gave not +the slightest indication of unusual intellectual capacity of any +sort. Kean, the only actor whose performances have ever realized to +me my idea of the effect tragic acting ought to produce, acted part +of his parts rather than ever a whole character, and a work of +genius should at least show unity of conception. My father, whose +fulfilling of a particular range of characters is as nearly as +possible perfect, wants depth and power, and power seems to me the +core, the very marrow, so to speak, of genius; and if <a name="Page_478" id="Page_478" ></a><span class="pagenum">[478]</span>it is not +genius that gave incomparable majesty and terror to my aunt's Lady +Macbeth, and to Kean's Othello incomparable pathos and passion, and +to my father's Benedict incomparable spirit and grace, what is it? +Mere talent carried beyond a certain point? If so, where does the +one begin and the other end? Or is genius a precious, +inconvertible, intellectual metal, of which some people have a +grain and a half, and some only half a grain?... There is dreadful +news from Spain, and I fear it is too true. Torrijos has made +another attempt. Oh, how thankful we must be that John is returned +to us!</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, Monday, December 23.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dear Mrs. Jameson</span>, +</p> + +<p>I owe you many excuses for not having sooner acknowledged your +letter, but you may have seen by the papers that we have been +bringing out a new piece, and that is always, while it goes on, an +engrossing of time and attention paramount to all other claims. It +is a play of Lord Francis Leveson's, and I know you will be glad to +hear that it has been successful and is likely to prove serviceable +to the theater. Another reason, too, for my silence is, that I have +been working very hard at "The Star of Seville," which, I am +thankful to say, has at length reached its completion. I have sent +it to the theater upon approbation, in the usual routine of +business; and am waiting very patiently the decision of the +management on its fitness or unfitness for their purposes.</p> + +<p>I know not whether your party at Teddesley are good thermometers, +by which to judge of the state of political feeling here in London, +but at this moment the rumor is rife that the Ministry dare not +make the new batch of Peers, cannot carry the Bill, and must +resign. To whom? is the next question, and it seems a difficult one +to answer. One hardly sees, looking round the political ranks, who +are to be the men to come forward and take up this tangled skein +effectually. I write with rather a sympathetic leaning toward the +Tory side of this Reform question, and do not know whether in so +doing I am affronting you or not. In any case, I imagine, there can +be but one opinion as to the difficulty, and even danger, of the +present position of public affairs and public temper with regard to +them.</p> + +<p>Do you not soon think of returning to Town? or are you so well +pleased with your present abode as to prolong your visit? London is +particularly full, I think, for the time of year, and <a name="Page_479" id="Page_479" ></a><span class="pagenum">[479]</span>people are +meeting in smaller numbers and a more sociable and agreeable way +than they do later in the season. I was at two parties last week, +each time, I am ashamed to say, after acting. I can't say that I +find society pleasant; it reminds me a good deal of a "Conversation +Cards," the insipid flippancy, of whose questions and answers seems +to me to survive in these meetings, miscalled occasionally +<i>conversaziones</i>. Dancing appears to me rational, and indeed highly +intellectual, in comparison with such talk; and that I am as fond +of as ever, but that has not begun yet, and I find these <i>soirées +causantes</i> drearily unedifying.</p> + +<p>Talking of stupid parties, your beautiful little picture of me and +my various costumes helped away two hours of such intolerably dull +people here the other night; I assure you we all voted you devout +thanks on the occasion.... We are all tolerably well; my father is +gradually recovering his strength, and though after such an attack +as his has been the progress must of necessity be slow, we are +inclined to hope, from that very circumstance, that it will be the +more sure.... If you do not return soon, perhaps I shall hear from +you again; pray recollect that it will give me great pleasure to do +so, and that I am very sincerely yours,</p> + +<p class="signature">F. A. K.</p> + +<p>I dressed my Juliet the last time I acted it, exactly after your +little sketch of her....</p> + + +<p class="gap"><i>Thursday.</i>—Worked at "The Star of Seville." In the evening the +play was "Isabella;" the house very bad. I played very well. The +Rajah Ramahun Roy was in the Duke of Devonshire's box, and went +into fits of crying, poor man!</p> + +<p><i>Friday, 23d.</i>—It is all too true; John has had a letter from +Spain; they have all been taken and shot. I felt frozen when I +heard the terrible news. Poor Torrijos! And yet I suppose it is +better so: he would only have lived to bitter disappointment, and +the despairing conviction that the spirit he appealed to did not +animate one human being in his deplorable and degenerate land. A +young Englishman, of the name of Boyd, John's sometime friend and +companion, was taken and shot with the rest: it choked me to think +of his parents, his brothers and sisters. Surely God has been most +merciful to us in sparing us such an anguish, and bringing our +wanderer home before this day of doom. How I thought of Richard +Trench and his people! John did not seem to me to be violently +affected, though his first exclamation was one of sharp and bit<a name="Page_480" id="Page_480" ></a><span class="pagenum">[480]</span>ter +pain: I suppose he must, long ere this, have felt that there could +be no other end to this utterly hopeless attempt.... In the +afternoon I called on Mrs. Norton, who is always to me +astonishingly beautiful. The baby was asleep, and so I could not +see it, but Spencer has grown into a very fine child.</p> + +<p><i>Monday, 26th.</i>—Went to see how the pantomime did. I did not think +it very amusing, but there was an enchanting little girl (Miss +Poole) who did Tom Thumb, and whose attitudes in her armor were +most of them copied from the antique, and really beautiful. Poor +dear, bright little thing!</p> + +<p>My father was in bed when we returned; I went and saw him for a +minute, to tell him how the pantomime had succeeded; it ended with +some wonderful tight-rope dancing by an exceedingly steady, +graceful man; but it turned me perfectly sick, and I hate all those +sort of things.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, 29th.</i>—After dinner worked at "The Star of Seville." I +really wonder I have the patience to go on with it, it is such +heavy trash. After tea my father begged me to sing to him. I am +always horribly frightened at singing before my mother; I cannot +bear to distress her accurate ear with my unsteady intonation, and +the more I think of it, the colder my hands grow and the hotter my +face, the huskier my voice and the flatter my notes; I bungle over +accompaniments that I have at my fingers' ends, and forget words I +know as well as my alphabet; in short, I feel like a wretch, and I +sing like a wretch, and I make wretched all my hearers. My mother's +own nervous terror when she had to sing on the stage, as a young +woman, was excessive, as she has often told me; and her mother +repeatedly but vainly endeavored to bribe her with the promise of a +guinea if she would sing as well in public any of the songs that +she sang perfectly well at home. I sang for some time, and by +degrees got more courage, till at last I managed to sing tolerably +in tune. My mother says I have more voice than A——. I am sorry to +hear her voice has grown thin—that sweet, melodious voice I did so +love to listen to; but perhaps it will recover its tone.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, 28th.</i>—My dear, dear father came down to breakfast, +looking horribly thin and pale, poor fellow! but, thank God, he was +able to come once more among us. I am to act Euphrasia on Monday; +how I do hate it! Monday week my father talks of resuming his work +again with Mercutio. Dear me! how happy I shall be! once more +speaking the love poetry of Juliet after all these "meaner beauties +of the night" that I have been executing ever since <a name="Page_481" id="Page_481" ></a><span class="pagenum">[481]</span>he has been +ill. Juliet did very right to die; she would have become Bianca +when once she was Mrs. Romeo Montague.... I wrote to Lady Francis +about "Katharine of Cleves," (Lord Francis's translation of "Henri +Trois"), who is once more beginning to lift up her head. My father +thinks it may be done on Wednesday week.... It is now determined +that Henry should go into the army, and my mother wants me to +besiege Sir John through Lady Macdonald (the general's general) +about a commission for him. In the evening, not having to be +anybody tragical or heroical, I indulged in my own character, and +had a regular game of romps with the boys; my pensive public would +not have believed its eyes if it could have seen me with my hair +all disheveled, not because of my woes, but because of riotous fun, +jumping over chairs and sofas, and dodging behind curtains and +under tables to escape from my pursuers. "Is that Miss Kemble?" as +poor Mr. Bacon involuntarily exclaimed the first time he saw me.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, December 29, 1831.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>You shall not entreat in vain, neither shall you have a short +answer because you have an immediate one.... I should not have +answered you so instantaneously, but that my last account of my +dear father was so bad that I cannot delay telling you how much +better he is, and how grateful we all are for his restoration to +health. He is released from his bed, of which he must be heartily +sick, and comes down to breakfast at the usual time: of course he +is still weak and low, and wretchedly thin, but we trust a little +time will bring back good spirits and good looks, though after such +a terrible attack I fear it will be long before his constitution +recovers its former strength, if indeed it ever does. He talks of +resuming his labors at the theater next Monday week. Oh! my dear +H——, what a dreadful season of anxiety this has been! but, thank +God, it is past.</p> + +<p>I had intended that this letter should go to you to-day, but you +will forgive the delay of a day in my finishing it when I tell you +that I have some hope of its producing a commission for Henry. Sir +John Macdonald, at whose house you dined in the summer with my +mother, is now adjutant-general, and I know not what besides; and +after my mother and myself had expended all our eloquence in +winding up my father's mind to resolve upon the army as Henry's +profession, she thought the <a name="Page_482" id="Page_482" ></a><span class="pagenum">[482]</span>next best thing I could do would be to +attack Lady Macdonald and secure the general's interest. They +happened to call this afternoon, and your letter, my dear H——, +has been left unfinished till past post-time, while I was +soliciting this favor, which I have every hope we shall obtain. +Lady Macdonald is extremely kind and good-natured, and I am sure +will exert herself to serve us, and if this can be accomplished I +shall be haunted by one anxiety the less.</p> + +<p>Henry is too young and too handsome to be doing nothing but +lounging about the streets of London, and even if he should be +ordered to the Indies, it is something to feel that he is no longer +aimless and objectless in life—a mere squanderer of time, without +interest, stake, or duty, in this existence. I am sure this news +will pacify you, and atone for the day's delay in this letter +reaching you.</p></div> + +<p>[My youngest brother Henry had a passionate desire to be a sailor, and +never exhibited the slightest inclination for any other career. Admiral +Lake, who was a very kind friend of my father's and mother's, knowing +this to be the lad's bent, offered, on one occasion, to take charge of +him, and have him trained for his profession under his own supervision. +Such, however, was my mother's horror of the sea, and dread of losing +her darling, if she surrendered him to be carried from her to Nova +Scotia, whither I think Admiral Lake was bound when he offered to take +my brother with him, that she induced my father to decline this most +friendly and advantageous offer. Henry never after that exhibited the +slightest preference for any other profession, and always said, "They +may put me at a plow-tail if they like." He went through Westminster +School, after a previous training at Bury St. Edmunds, not otherwise +than creditably; but a very modest estimate of his own capacity made him +beg not to be sent to Cambridge, where he said he was sure he should +only waste money, and do himself and us no credit. (The bitter +disappointment of my brother John's failure there had made a deep +impression upon him.) Finally it was decided that he should go into the +army, and the friendly interest of Sir John Macdonald and the liberal +price Mr. Murray gave me for my play of "Francis I." enabled me to get +him a commission; it was the time when they were still purchasable. My +poor mother, unable to refuse her consent to this second favorable +opportunity of starting him in life, acquiesced in his military, though +she had thwarted his naval, career, and was well content to see her +boy-ensign sent over with his troops to Ireland. But from Ireland his +regiment was ordered to the <a name="Page_483" id="Page_483" ></a><span class="pagenum">[483]</span>West Indies, and after his departure thither +she never again saw him in her life.]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>I think it would be a wise thing if I were to go to America and +work till I have made 10,000<i>l.</i>, then return to England and go the +round of the provinces, and act for a few nights' leave-taking in +London. Prudence would then, perhaps, find less difficulty in +adjusting my plans for the future. That is what I think would be +well for me to do, supposing all things remain as they are and God +preserves my health and strength. It will not do to verify all +Poitier's lugubrious congratulation to his children in the +Vaudeville on their marriage:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ji! Ji! mariez-vous,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mettez-vous dans la misère!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ji! Ji! mariez-vous,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mettez-vous la corde au cou."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>... Jealousy, surely, is a disposition to suspect and take umbrage +where there is no cause for suspicion or offense, which, to say the +least of it, is very unreasonable; but that a woman should break +her heart because her husband does love another woman better than +her, seems to me natural enough, and with regard to Bianca, her +provocations certainly warranted a very rational amount of misery; +and though, had she not been a woman of violent passions and a +jealous temperament, she probably would not have taken the means +she did of resenting Fazio's treatment of her, it appears to me +that nothing but divine assistance and the strongest religious +principle could preserve one under such circumstances from despair, +madness, suicide, perhaps; hardly, however, the murder of one's +husband. But assassinating other people seems a much more common +mode of relieving their feelings among Italians than destroying +themselves, which is rather a northern way of meeting, I should say +of avoiding, difficulties.</p> + +<p>I have had a holiday this week, and every now and then have written +a word or two of "La Estrella;" it will never be done, and when it +is it will be the horridest trash that ever was done; but I will +let you have the pleasure of reading it, I promise you. On Monday I +play that favorite detestation of mine, Euphrasia; the Monday after +that my father hopes to be able for Mercutio, and I return to +Juliet. By the by, you say Bianca is my best part, and I think my +Juliet is better; I am not sure that there is not some kindred in +the characters. We are going to bring out a play of Lord Francis', +translated from the French, a sort of melodrama in blank verse, in +which I have to <a name="Page_484" id="Page_484" ></a><span class="pagenum">[484]</span>act a part that I cannot do the least in the world, +but of course that doesn't signify.</p></div> + +<p>["Katharine of Cleves," translated from the French play of "Henri Trois +et sa Cour," and made the subject of one of Mr. Barham's inimitably +comical poems in the "Ingoldsby Legends." Mdlle. Mars acted the part of +the heroine in Paris, and it was one of several semi-tragical +characters, in which, at the end of her great theatrical career, she +reaped fresh laurels in an entirely new field, and showed the world that +she might have been one of the best serious, not to say tragic, +actresses of the French stage, as well as its one unrivaled female +comedian.]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>We have spent a wretched Christmas, as you may suppose; a house +with its head sick all but to death, and all its members smitten +with the direst anxiety, is not the place for a merry one. God +bless you, my dear, and send you years of peace of mind and health +of body! this is, I suppose, what we mean when we wish for +happiness here, either for ourselves or others. Give my love and +kindest good wishes to your people.</p> + +<p>Have you seen in the papers that poor Torrijos and his little band, +consisting of sixty men, several of whom John knew well, have been +lured into the interior of Spain, and there taken prisoners and +shot? This news has shocked us all dreadfully, especially poor +John. You may imagine how grateful we are that he is now among us, +instead of having fallen a victim to his chimerical enthusiasm. I +hardly know how to deplore the event for Torrijos himself: death +has spared him the bitter disappointment of at last being convinced +that the people he would have made free are willing slaves, and +that the time when Spain is to lift herself up from the dust has +not yet come.</p> + +<p>I went the other day with John to the Angerstein Gallery.... The +delight I find in a fine painting is one of the greatest and most +enduring pleasures I have; my mind retains the impression so long +and so very vividly.... Good-by, my dearest H——.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Ever affectionately yours,</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p> + + +<p class="gap"><i>Saturday, 31st.</i>—After breakfast went to the theater to rehearse +"The Grecian Daughter," and Mr. Ward, for whom the rehearsal was +principally given, never came till it was over. Pleasant +creature!...</p> + +<p>The day seemed beautifully fine, and my father and mother took, a +drive, while Henry and I rode, that my father might see <a name="Page_485" id="Page_485" ></a><span class="pagenum">[485]</span>the horse I +had bought for him; but it was bitterly cold, and I could not make +my mare trot, so she cantered and I froze. Mr. Power was there, on +that lovely horse of his. I think the Park will become bad company, +it is so full of the player folk. Frederick Byng called, and I like +him, so I went and sat with him and my father and mother in the +library till time to dress for dinner. After dinner wrote "The Star +of Seville." I have got into conceit with it again, and so poor, +dear, unfortunate Dall coming in while I was working at it, I +seized hold of her, like the Ancient Mariner of the miserable +"Wedding Guest," and compelled her, in spite of her outcries, to +sit down, and then, though she very wisely went fast asleep, I read +it to her till tea-time.</p> + +<p>My mother wished to sit up and see the New Year in, and so we +played quadrille till they sat down to supper, which had been +ordered for the vigil, and I went fast asleep. At twelve o'clock +kisses and good wishes went round, and we were all very merry, in +spite of which I once or twice felt a sudden rush of hot tears into +my eyes. All the hours of last year are gone, standing at the bar +of Heaven, our witnesses or accusers: the evil done, the good left +undone, the opportunities vouchsafed and neglected, the warnings +given and unheeded, the talents lent and unworthily or not +employed, they are gone from us for ever! forever! and we make +merry over the flight of Time! O Time! our dearest friend! how is +it that we part so carelessly from you, who never can return to +us?... A New Year....</p></div> + +<h3>A NEW YEAR, 1832.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>January 1st, Sunday.</i>—When I came down my father wished me a +happy New Year, and I am sure we were both thinking of the same +thing, and neither of us felt happy.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday 5th.</i>— ... Wrote all the afternoon. Mr. Byng dined with +us and stayed till one o'clock, having reduced my mother to +silence, and my father to sleep, John to snuff, and Henry and I to +playing (<i>sotto voce</i>) "What's my thought like?" to keep ourselves +from tumbling off the perch.</p> + +<p><i>Monday, 9th.</i>—Rehearsed "Romeo and Juliet" with all my heart. Oh, +light, life, truth, and lovely poetry! I sat on the cold stage, +that I might hear them even mumble over their parts as they do. My +father seemed to me very weak, and not by any means fit for his +work to-night. After dinner went over my part again, and went to +the theater at half past five. My <a name="Page_486" id="Page_486" ></a><span class="pagenum">[486]</span>new dress was very handsome, +though rather burly, in spite of which Dall said it made me look +taller, so its rather burliness didn't matter. John Mason played +Romeo for the first time; he was beautifully dressed, and looked +very well; he acted tolerably well, too. He has a good deal of +energy and spirit, but wants feeling and refinement; his voice, +unfortunately, is very unpleasant, wiry, harsh, and monotonous; of +the last defect he may cure by practice. I came to the side scene +just as my father was going on, to hear his reception; it was very +great, a perfect thunder of applause; it made the tears start into +my eyes. Poor father! They received me with infinite demonstrations +of kindness too. I thought I acted very well; I am sure I played +the balcony scene well. When the blood keeps rushing up into one's +cheeks and neck while one is speaking, I wonder if that ought to be +called acting. To be sure, Hamlet's player's face turned pale for +Hecuba; so Shakespeare thought acting might make one change color.</p> + +<p>I cannot get over the <i>sensibleness</i> of Henry Greville, who was in +the pit again to-night. Upon my word! he deserves to see good +acting. After the play dear William and Mary Harness came home to +supper with us, and we all got into a long discussion about +Shakespeare's character, John maintaining that his views of life +were gloomy and that he must himself have been an unhappy man. I +don't believe a bit of it; no one, I suppose, ever thinks this +world, and the life we live in it, absolutely pleasant or good, but +the poet's ken, which is as an angel's compared with that of other +men, must see more good and beauty, as well as more evil and +ugliness, than his short-sighted fellows, and the better elements +predominating over the worse (as they do, else the world would fall +asunder). The man who takes so wide a view as Shakespeare, whatever +his judgment of parts, must, upon the whole, pronounce the whole +good rather than bad, and rejoice accordingly. I was too tired and +sleepy to talk, or even to listen, much.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, 11th.</i>— ... Lady Charlotte Greville and General Alaba +called. I am always grateful to him for the beautiful copy of +Schlegel's "Dramatic Lectures" which he gave me. Lady Charlotte was +all curiosity and anxiety about Lord Francis' play. I am afraid the +newspapers may not be much inclined to be good-natured about it. I +hope he does not care for what may be said of it. In the evening, +the boys went to the theater, and I stayed at home, industriously +copying "The Star of Seville" till bedtime.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, 12th.</i>—To the theater to rehearsal, after which I <a name="Page_487" id="Page_487" ></a><span class="pagenum">[487]</span>drove +to Hayter's (the painter), taking him my bracelets to copy, and +permission to apply to the theater wardrobe for any drapery that +may suit his purpose. I saw a likeness of Mrs. Norton he is just +finishing; very like her indeed, but not her handsomest look. I +think it had a slight, curious resemblance to some of the things +that have been done of me. I saw a very clever picture of all the +Fitzclarences, either by himself or his brother, George Hayter. The +women are very prettily grouped, and look picturesque enough; the +modern man's dress is an abominable object, of art or nature, and +Lord Munster's costume, holding, as he does, the very middle of the +canvas, is monstrous (which I don't mean for a rudeness, but a +pun). The Right Reverend Father in God (A.F.) is laughably like. +They have insisted on having a portrait of their mother introduced +in the room in which they are sitting, which seems to me better +feeling than taste. Their royal father is absent. I worked at "The +Star of Seville" till I went to the theater; as I get nearer the +end, I get as eager as a race-horse when in sight of the goal.... +The piece was "The School for Scandal;" the house was very full. I +did not play well; I spoke too fast, and perceived it, and could +not make myself speak slower—an unpleasant sort of nightmare +sensation; besides, I was flat, and dull, and pointless—in short, +bad was the sum total. How well Ward plays Joseph Surface! The +audience were delightful; I never heard such pleasant shouts of +laughter.... My father says perhaps they will bring out "The Star +of Seville," which notion sometimes brings back my old girlish +desire for "fame." Every now and then I feel quite proud at the +idea of acting in a play of my own at two and twenty, and then I +look again at my "good works," this precious play, and it seems to +be no better than "filthy rags." But perhaps I may do better +hereafter. Hereafter! Oh dear! how many things are better than +doing even the best in this kind! how many things must be better +than real fame! but if one has none of those, fame might, perhaps, +be pleasant. No actor's fame, or rather celebrity, or rather +notoriety, would satisfy me; that is the shadow of a cloud, the +echo of a sound, the memory of a dream, nothing come of nothing. +The finest actor is but a good translator of another man's work; he +does somebody else's thought into action, but he creates nothing, +and that seems to me the test of genius, after all.</p> + +<p><i>Friday.</i>—At eleven to the theater to rehearse "Katharine of +Cleves." ... We all went to the theater to see "Rob Roy," and I was +sorry that I did, for it gave me such a home-<a name="Page_488" id="Page_488" ></a><span class="pagenum">[488]</span>sick longing for +Edinburgh, and the lovely sea-shore out by Cramond, and the sunny +coast of Fife. How all my delightful, girlish, solitary rambles +came back to me! Why do such pleasant times ever pass? or why do +they ever come? The Scotch airs set me crying with all the +recollections they awakened. In spite, moreover, of my knowing +every plank and pulley, and scene-shifter and carpenter behind +those scenes, here was I crying at this Scotch melodrama, feeling +my heart puff out my chest for "Rob Roy," though Mr Ward is, alas! +my acquaintance, and I know when he leaves the stage he goes and +laughs and takes snuff in the green room. How I did cry at the +Coronach and Helen Macgregor, though I know Mrs. Lovell is thinking +of her baby, and the chorus-singers of their suppers. How I did +long to see Loch Lomond and its broad, deep, calm waters once more, +and those lovely green hills, and the fir forests so fragrant in +the sun, and that dark mountain well, Loch Long, with its rocky +cliffs along whose dizzy edge I used to dream I was running in a +whirlwind; the little bays where the sun touched the water as it +soaked into cushions of thick, starry moss, and the great tufts of +purple heather all vibrating with tawny bees! Beautiful wilderness! +how glad I am I have once seen it, and can never forget it; nor the +broad, crisping Clyde, with its blossoming bean-fields, its jagged +rocks and precipices, its gray cliffs and waving woods, and the +mountain streams of clear, bright, fairy water, rushing and +rejoicing down between the hills to fling themselves into its +bosom; and Dumbarton Castle, with its snowy roses of Stuart memory! +How glad I am that I have seen it all, if I should never see it +again! And "Rob Roy" brought all this and ever so much more to my +mind. If I had been a mountaineer, how I should have loved my land! +I wish I had some blood-right to love Scotland as I do. +Unfortunately, all these associations did not reconcile me to the +cockney-Scotch of our Covent Garden actors, and Mackay's Bailie +Nicol Jarvie was not the least tender of my reminiscences. [It was +at a public dinner in Edinburgh, at which Walter Scott and Mackay +were guests, that, in referring to the admirable impersonation of +the Bailie, Scott's habitual caution with regard to the authorship +of the Waverley Novels for a moment lost its balance, and in his +warm commendation of the great comedian's performances a sentence +escaped him which appeared conclusive to many of those present, if +they were still in doubt upon the subject, that he was their +writer.] Miss Inveraretie was a cruel Diana, but who would not +be?...</p> + +<p><a name="Page_489" id="Page_489" ></a><span class="pagenum">[489]</span><i>Saturday, 14th.</i>—I rode at two with my father. Passed Tyrone +Power; what a clever, pleasant man he is; Count d'Orsay joined us; +he was riding a most beautiful mare; and then James Macdonald, <i>cum +multus aliis</i>, and I was quite dead, and almost cross, with +cold.... After dinner I came up to my room, and set to work like a +little galley slave, and by tea-time I had finished my play. "Oh, +joy forever! my task is done!" I came down rather tipsy, and +proclaimed my achievement. After tea I began copying the last act, +but my father desired me to read it to them; so, at about half-past +nine, I began. My mother cried much; what a nice woman she is! My +father, Dall, and John agreed that it was beautiful, though I +believe the two first excellent judges were fast asleep during the +latter part of the reading, which was perhaps why they liked it so +much. At the end my mother said to me, "I am proud of you, my +dear;" and so I have my reward. After a little congratulatory +conversation, I came to bed at two o'clock, and slept before my +head touched the pillow. So now that is finished, and I am glad it +is finished. Is it as good as a second piece of work ought to be? I +cannot tell. I think so differently of it at different times that I +cannot trust my own judgment. I will begin something else as soon +as possible. I wonder why nowadays we make all our tragedies +foreign? Romantic, historical, knightly England had people and +manners once picturesque and poetical enough to serve her +play-writers' turn, though Shakespeare always took his stories, +though not his histories, from abroad; but people live tragedies +and comedies everywhere and all time. I think by and by I will +write an English tragedy. [I little thought then that I should +write a play whose miserable story was of my own day, and call it +"An English Tragedy."]</p> + +<p><i>Sunday, 15th.</i>— ... In the afternoon hosts of people called; +among others Lady Dacre, who stayed a long time, and wants us to go +to her on Thursday. Copied "The Star of Seville" all the evening. +At ten dear Mr. Harness came in, and stayed till twelve.</p> + +<p><i>Monday, 16th.</i>—Rehearsed "Katharine of Cleves" at eleven, but as +Lord Francis did not come till twelve we had to begin it again, and +kept at it until two. The actors seem frightened about it. Mr. +Warde quakes about the pinching (an incident in the play taken, I +suppose, from Ruthven's proceeding toward Mary Stewart at +Lochleven). I am only afraid I cannot do anything with my part; it +is a sort of melodramatic, pantomimic part that I have no capacity +for. The fact is, that <a name="Page_490" id="Page_490" ></a><span class="pagenum">[490]</span>neither in the first nor last scenes are my +legs long enough to do justice to this lady. The Douglas woman who +barred the door with her arm to save King James's life must have +been a strapping lass, as well a heroine in spirit. I am not tall +enough for such feats of arms. Copied my play till time to go to +the theater. My aunt Victoire came to my dressing-room just as I +was going on, and persuaded dear Dall, who has never once seen me +act, to go into the front of the house. She came back very soon in +a state of great excitement and distress, saying she could not bear +it. How odd that seems! Dear old Dall! she cannot bear seeing me +make-believe miserable. The house was very good, and I played +fairly well.</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday, 17th.</i>—Went to my mother's room before she was down, +with Henry. It is her birthday, and I carried her the black velvet +dress I have got for her, with which she seemed much pleased. Went +to rehearsal at twelve. Lord and Lady Francis were there, and we +acted the whole play, of course, to please them, so that I was half +dead at the end of the rehearsal. They want us to go to Lady +Charlotte's (Greville) to-morrow. My father said we would if we +were all well and <i>in spirits</i> (<i>i.e.</i>, if the play was not +damped).... I wonder how my dear old Newhaven fish-wife does. "Eh! +gude gracious, ma'am, it's yer ain sel come back again!" Poor body! +I believe I love the very east wind that blows over the streets of +Edinburgh.... After dinner Mrs. Jameson's beautiful toy-likeness of +me helped off the time delightfully till the gentlemen came up, and +then helped it off delightfully till everybody went away. What a +misfortune it is to have a broken nose, like poor dear Thackeray! +He would have been positively handsome, and is positively ugly in +consequence of it. John and his friend Venables broke the bridge of +Thackeray's nose when they were schoolboys playing together. What a +mishap to befall a young lad just beginning life! [I suppose my +friend Thackeray's injury was one that did not admit a surgical +remedy, but my father, late in life, fell down while skating, and +broke the bridge of his nose, and Liston, the eminent surgeon, +urged him extremely to let him raise it—"build it again," as he +used to say. My father, however, declined the operation, and not +only remained with his handsome nose disfigured, but suffered a +much greater inconvenience, which Liston had predicted—very +aggravated deafness in old age, from the stopping of the passages +in the nose, which helped to transmit sound to the brain.] After +all, I suppose, it does not much signify to a man whether he is +ugly or not. Wilkes, who was pre-eminently so, but bril<a name="Page_491" id="Page_491" ></a><span class="pagenum">[491]</span>liantly +agreeable, used always to say that he was only half an hour +behindhand with the handsomest man in England.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, 18th.</i>—Went to the theater to rehearse "Katharine of +Cleves;" we were kept at it till half-past two. Drove home through +the park. The day was beautiful, but my poor father could not get +released from that hateful theater, and went without his ride.... I +had not felt at all nervous about to-night till the carriage came +to the door, and then I turned quite faint and sick with fright. At +the theater found Madame le Beau (the forewoman of the great +fashionable French milliner, Madame Dévy, by whom all my dresses +were made) waiting for me. All was in darkness in my dressing-room; +neither Mrs. Mitchell nor Jane were come (my two servants, or +dressers, as they are called at the theater). Presently in scuttled +the former, puffing, and whimpering apologies, and presently the +room was filled with the pleasant incense of eight candles that she +lighted, and blew out and relighted, and wondered that we didn't +enjoy the operation. Then Jane bounced breathless in, and made our +discomfort perfect. I sat speechless, terrified, and disconsolate. +My fright was increasing every instant, and by the time I was +dressed I shook like an aspen leaf from head to foot, and was as +sick as no heart could desire. My dresses were most beautiful, and +fitted me to perfection. The house was very fine. My poor dear +father, who was as perfect in his part as possible this morning, +did not speak three words without prompting; he was so nervous and +anxious about the success of the piece that his own part was driven +literally out of his head. I never saw anything so curious. To be +sure, his illness has shattered him very much, and all the worry he +has had this week has not mended matters. However, the play went +admirably, and was entirely successful, to assist which result I +thought I should have broken a blood-vessel in the last scene, the +exertion was so tremendous. My voice was weak with nervousness and +excitement, and at last I could hardly utter a word audibly. I +almost broke my arm, too, in good earnest, with those horrible iron +stanchions. However, it did be over at last, and "all's well that +ends well." I was so tired that I could scarcely stand; my mother +came down from her box and seemed much pleased with me. She went to +my father's room to see if I might not go home instead of to Lady +Charlotte's, but he seemed to think it would please them if we made +the effort of going for a few minutes; and so I dressed and set +off, and there we found a regular "swarry," instead of something to +eat and drink, and a chair to sit upon <a name="Page_492" id="Page_492" ></a><span class="pagenum">[492]</span>in peace and quiet. There +was a room full of all the fine folks in London; very few chairs, +no peace and quiet, and heaps of acquaintance to talk to.... All +the London world that is in London. Lord and Lady Francis took +their success very composedly. I don't think they would have cared +much if the play had failed. Henry Greville seemed to be much more +interested for them than they for themselves, and discussed it all +for a long time with me. I liked him very much.... At long last I +got home, and had some supper, but what with fatigue and +nervousness, and <i>it</i>—<i>i.e.</i>, the supper—so late, I had a most +wretched night, and kept dreaming I was out in my part and jumping +up in bed, and all sorts of agonies. What a life! I don't steal my +money, I'm sure.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, 19th.</i>— ... Henry and I rode in the park, and though +the day was detestable, it did me good. As we were walking the +horses round by Kensington Gardens, Lord John Russell, peering out +of voluminous wrappers, joined us. Certainly that small, +sharp-visaged gentleman does not give much outward and visible sign +of the inward and spiritual power he possesses and wields over this +realm of England just now. His bodily presence might almost be +described as St. Paul's. This turner inside out and upside down of +our body, social and political, this hero of reform, one of the +ablest men in England—I suppose in Europe—he rode with us for a +long time, and I thought how H—— would have envied me this +conversation with her idol.... In the evening, at the theater, +though I had gone over my part before going there, for the first +time in my play-house experience I was <i>out</i> on the stage. I +stopped short in the middle of one of my speeches, thinking I had +finished it, whereas I had not given Mr. Warde the cue he was to +reply to. How disgraceful!... After the play, my mother called for +us in the carriage, and we went to Lady Dacre's, and had a pleasant +party enough.... C—— G—— was there, with her mother (the clever +and accomplished authoress of several so-called fashionable novels, +which had great popularity in their day). Miss G——, now Lady +E—— T——, used to be called by us "la Dame Blanche," on account +of the dazzling fairness of her complexion. She was very brilliant +and amusing, and I remember her saying to one of her admirers one +evening, when her snowy neck and shoulders were shining in all the +unveiled beauty of full dress, "Oh, go away, P——, you <i>tan</i> me." +(The gentleman had a shock head of fiery-red hair.)</p> + +<p><i>Friday.</i>— ... I am horribly fagged, and after dinner fell <a name="Page_493" id="Page_493" ></a><span class="pagenum">[493]</span>fast +asleep in my chair. At the theater, in the evening, the house was +remarkably good for a "second night," and the play went off very +well.... My voice was much better to-night, though it cracked once +most awfully in the last scene, from fatigue.... I think Lord +Francis, or the management, or somebody ought to pay me for the +bruises and thumps I get in this new play. One arm is black and +blue (besides being broken every night) with bolting the door, and +the other grazed to the bone with falling in fits upon the floor on +my elbows. This sort of tragic acting is a service of some danger, +and I object to it much more than to the stabbing and poisoning of +the "Legitimate Drama;" in fact, "I do not mind death, but I cannot +bear pinching."</p> + +<p><i>Saturday.</i>— ... Rode in the park with my father. Lord John +Russell rode with us for some time, and was very pleasant. He made +us laugh by telling us that Sir Robert Inglis (most bigoted of Tory +anti-reformers) having fallen asleep on the ministerial benches at +the time of the division the other night, they counted him on their +side. What good fun! I never saw a man look so wretchedly worn and +harassed as Lord John does. They say the ministry must go out, that +they dare not make these new peers, and that the Bill will stick +fast by the way instead of passing. What frightful trouble there +will be!...</p> + +<p><i>Sunday, 22d.</i>— ... After church looked over the critiques in the +Sunday papers on "Katharine of Cleves." Some of them were too +good-natured, some too ill-natured. The <i>Spectator</i> was exceedingly +amusing.</p> + +<p>By far the best account and criticism of this piece is Mr. Barham's +metrical report of it in the "Ingoldsby Legends." Lord Francis +himself used to quote with delight, "She didn't mind death, but she +couldn't bear pinching." ...</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"><span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, January 22, 1832.</p> + +<p>Thank you, my dearest H——, for your last delightful letter, which +I should have answered before, but for the production of a new +piece at Covent Garden, which has taken up all my time for the last +week in rehearsals, and trying on dresses and the innumerable and +invariable etceteras of a new play and part. It has been highly +successful, and I think is likely to bring money to our treasury, +which is <i>the</i> consummation most devoutly to be wished. It is +nothing more than an interesting melodrama, with the advantage of +being written in gentlemanly (noblemanly?) blank verse instead of +turgid prose, and being <a name="Page_494" id="Page_494" ></a><span class="pagenum">[494]</span>acted by the principal instead of the +secondary members of the company. This will suffice to make you +appreciate my satisfaction, when I am complimented upon my acting +in it, and you will sympathize with the shout of laughter my father +and myself indulged in in the park the other day, when Lord John +Russell, who was riding with us, told us that a young lady of his +acquaintance had assured him that "Katharine of Cleves" (the name +of the piece) was vastly more interesting than any thing +Shakespeare had ever written.</p> + +<p>The report is that there is to be no new creation of peers, and +that the Bill will not pass. Certainly poor Lord John looks worried +to death. He and Lord Grey have almost the whole weight and +responsibility of this most momentous question upon their +shoulders, and it must be no trifle to carry. As for the judicious +young lady's judgment about "Katharine of Cleves," it is just this +sort of thing that makes me <i>rub the hands of my mind</i> with +satisfaction that I have never cared for my profession as my family +has done. I think if I had, such folly, or rather stupidity, would +have exasperated me too much. Besides, I should have been much less +useful to the theater, for I should have lived in an everlasting +wrangle with authors, actors, and managers on behalf of the +mythological bodies supposed to preside over tragedy and comedy, +and I should have killed myself (or perhaps been killed), and that +quickly, with ineffectual protests against half the performances +before the lamps, which are enough to make the angels weep and +laugh—in short, go into hysterics, if they ever come to the +play....</p> + +<p>Do you know you have almost increased my very sufficient tendency +to superstition by your presentiment when you last left us that you +should never return to this house. There is some talk now of our +leaving it. My mother yearns for her favorite suburban haunts, the +scene of her courtship, and the spot where most of her happy +youthful associations abide, and has half persuaded my father to +let this house and take one in a particular row of "cottages of +gentility" called Craven Hill. It only consists of twelve houses, +in <i>five</i> of which my mother has, at different periods of her life, +resided. This is all vague at present; I will let you know if it +assumes a more definite shape. Some time will elapse before it is +decided on, and more before it is done; and in any case, somehow or +other, you must be once more under this roof with us before we +leave it....</p> + +<p>I quite agree with you that such books as Mr. Hope's (on the nature +and immortality of the soul, the precise title of which <a name="Page_495" id="Page_495" ></a><span class="pagenum">[495]</span>I have +forgotten) "may be useless," and sometimes, indeed, worse. If a +person has nothing better to do than count the sea sands or fill +the old bottomless tub of the Danaides, they may be excused for +devoting their time and wits to such riddles, perhaps. But when the +mind has positive, practical work to perform, and time keeps +bringing <i>all the time</i> specific duties, or when, as in your case, +a predisposition to vague speculation is the intellectual besetting +sin, I think <i>addition</i> to such subjects to be avoided. I suppose +all human beings have, in some shape or degree, the desire for that +knowledge which is still the growth of the forbidden tree of +Paradise, and the lust for which inevitably thrusts us against the +bars of the material life in which we are consigned; but to give up +one's time to writing and reading elaborate theories of a past and +future which we may conceive to exist, but of the existence of +which it is impossible we should achieve <i>any</i> proof, much less any +detailed knowledge, appears to me an unprofitable and +unsatisfactory misuse of time and talent....</p> + +<p>You are mistaken in supposing me familiar with the early history of +Poland. I am ashamed to say I know nothing about it, and my zeal +for the cause of its people is an ignorant +sentiment<i>alism</i>—partly, perhaps, mere innate combativeness that +longs to strike on the weaker side, and partly, too, resentful +indignation at the cold-blooded neutrality observed by all the +powers of Europe while that handful of men were making so brave a +stand against the Russian giant.</p> + +<p>That reminds me that Prince Zartoryski, who is in this country just +now, came to the play the other night, and was so struck with my +father that he sent round to him to say that he desired the honor +of his acquaintance, and begged he would do him the favor of dining +with him on some appointed day, which seemed to me a very pretty +piece of impulsive enthusiasm. I believe Prince Zartoryski is a +royal personage, and so above conventionalities....</p> + +<p>My father is pretty well, though very far from having entirely +regained his strength, but he is making gradual progress in that +direction....</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Always affectionately yours,</p><p class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Fanny</span>. +</p> + + +<p class="gap"><i>Tuesday, 24th.</i>— ... Read over "The Star of Seville," as Mr. +Bartley (our worthy stage manager) has cut it, with a view to its +possible performance. He has cut it with a vengeance—what one may +call to the quick. However, I suppose they know their own business +(though, by the by, I am not <a name="Page_496" id="Page_496" ></a><span class="pagenum">[496]</span>always so sure of that). At any rate, +I shall make no resistance, but be silent while I am sheared....</p> + +<p>I rode in the park with John. My mare was ill, and Mew (the +stable-keeper) had sent me one of his horses, a great awkward +brute, who, after jolting me well up Oxford Street, no sooner +entered the park than he bolted down the drive as fast as legs +could carry him, John following afar off. In Rotten Row we were +joined by young T——.... When I thought the devil was a little +worked out of my horse, I raised him to a canter again, whereupon +scamper the second—I like a flash of lightning, they after me as +well as they could. John would not force my father's horse, but Mr. +T——, whose horse was a thoroughbred hunter, managed to keep up +with me, but lamed his horse in so doing. We then walked soberly +round the park and saw our friends and acquaintances, and, turning +down the drive, I determined once more to try my horse's +disposition, whereupon off he went again, like a shot, leaving John +far behind. I flitted down Rotten Row like Faust on the demon +horse, and as I drew up and turned about I heard, "Well, that woman +does ride well," which was all, whoever said it, knew of the +matter; whereas, in my mad career, I had passed Fozzard, who shook +his head lamentably at John, exclaiming, "Oh, Miss Fanny! Miss +Fanny!" After this last satisfactory experiment I made no more, and +we cut short our ride on account of my unmanageable steed....</p> + +<p>We had a dinner party at home, and in the evening additional +guests, among them Thackeray, who is very clever and delightful. We +had music and singing and pleasant, bright talk, and they departed +and left us in great good humor.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, 25th.</i>—Read the "Prometheus Unbound." How gorgeous it +is! I do not think Shelley is read or appreciated now as +enthusiastically as he was, even in my recollection, some few years +ago. I went over my part, and at half-past five to the theater. The +play was "Katharine of Cleves," the house very good; and, to please +Henry Greville, I resumed the gold wreath I had discarded and +restored the lines I had omitted. After the play came home and +supped, and at eleven went to Lady F——'s.... A very fine party; +"everybody"—that is in town—was there, and Mrs. Norton looking +more magnificent than "everybody." Old Lady S—— like nothing in +the world but the mummy carried round at the Egyptian feasts, with +her parchment neck and shoulders bare, and her throat all drawn +into strings and cords, hung with a dozen rows of perfect precious +stones glittering in the glare of <a name="Page_497" id="Page_497" ></a><span class="pagenum">[497]</span>the lights with the constant +shaking of her palsied head. [This lady continued to frequent the +gayest assemblies in London when she had become so old and infirm +that, though still persisting daily in her favorite exercise on +horseback, she used to be tied into her saddle in such a manner as +to prevent her falling out of it. She had been one of the finest +riders in England, but used often, at the time when I knew her, to +go to sleep while walking the horse round the park, her groom who +rode near her being obliged to call to her "My lady! My lady!" to +make the poor old woman open her eyes and see where she was going. +At upward of eighty she died an unnatural death. Writing by +candle-light on a winter's evening, it is supposed that her cap +must have taken fire, for she was burnt to death, and had for her +funeral pile part of the noble historical house of Hatfield, which +was destroyed by the same accident.]</p> + +<p>Lord Lansdowne desired to be introduced to me, and talked to me a +long time. I thought him very good-natured and a charming talker. +Mrs. Bradshaw (Maria Tree) was there, looking beautiful. Our +hostess's daughter, Miss F——, is very pretty, but just misses +being a beauty; in that case a miss is a great deal worse than a +mile. Just as the rooms were beginning to thin, and we were going +away, Lord O—— sat down to the piano. I had heard a great deal +about his singing, and was rather disappointed; he has a sweet +voice and a sweet face, but Henry Greville's bright, sparkling +countenance and expressive singing are worth a hundred such mere +musical sentimentalities. [Mr. Henry Greville was one of the best +amateur singers of the London society of his day. He was the +intimate personal friend of Mario, whom I remember he brought to +our house, when first he arrived in London, as M. de Candia, before +the beginning of his public career, and when, in the very first +bloom of youth, his exquisite voice and beautiful face produced in +society an effect which only briefly forestalled the admiration of +all Europe when he determined to adopt the profession which made +him famous as the incomparable tenor of the Italian stage for so +many years.] Then, too, those lads sing songs, the words of which +give one the throat-ache with strangled crying, and when they have +done you hear the women all round mincing, "Charming!—how +nice!—sweet!—what a dear!—darling creature!"</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, 26th.</i>—Murray was most kind and good-natured and +liberal about all the arrangements for publishing "Francis I." and +"The Star of Seville." He will take them both, and <a name="Page_498" id="Page_498" ></a><span class="pagenum">[498]</span>defer the +publication of the first as long as the managers of Covent Garden +wish him to do so. [As there was some talk just then of bringing +out "The Star of Seville" at the theater, it was thought better not +to forestall its effect by the publication of "Francis I."]</p> + +<p>At the theater the play was "The School for Scandal." A—— F—— +was there, with young Sheridan; I hope the latter approved of my +method of speaking the speeches of his witty great-grandfather. I +played well, though the audience was dull and didn't help me. Mary +and William Harness supped with us....</p> + +<p><i>Friday, 27th.</i>—A long discussion after breakfast about the +necessity of one's husband being clever. Ma foi je n'en vois pas la +nécessité. People don't want to be entertaining each other all day +long; <i>very</i> clever men don't grow on every bush, and <i>middling</i> +clever men don't amount to anything. I think I should like to have +married Sir Humphry Davy. A well-assorted marriage, as the French +say, seems to me like a well-arranged duet for four hands; the +treble, the woman, has all the brilliant and melodious part, but +the whole government of the piece, the harmony, is with the base, +which really leads and sustains the whole composition and keeps it +steady, and without which the treble for the most part <i>runs to +tune</i> merely, and wants depth, dignity, and real musical +importance.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon went to Lady Dacre's.... She read me the first act +of a little piece she has been writing; while listening to her I +was struck as I never had been before with the great beauty of her +countenance, and its very varied and striking expression.... At +home spent my time in reading Shelley. How wonderful and beautiful +the "Prometheus" is! The unguessed heavens and earth and sea are so +many storehouses from which Shelley brings gorgeous heaps of +treasure and piles them up in words like jewels. I read "The +Sensitive Plant" and "Rosalind and Helen." As for the +latter—powerful enough, certainly—it gives me bodily aches to +read such poetry.</p> + +<p>What extraordinary proceedings have been going on in the House of +Commons! Mr. Percival getting up and quoting the Bible, and Mr. +Hunt getting up and answering him by quoting the Bible too. It +seems we are to have a general fast—on account of the general +national misconduct, I suppose; serve us right.</p> + +<p><i>Sunday, 29th.</i>—Went into my mother's room before going to church. +Henry Greville has sent her Victor Hugo's new book, <a name="Page_499" id="Page_499" ></a><span class="pagenum">[499]</span>"Notre Dame de +Paris," but she appears half undetermined whether she will go on +reading it or not, it is so painfully exciting. I took Mrs. +Montague up in the carriage on my way to church, and after service +drove her home, and went up to see Mrs. Procter, and found baby +(Adelaide Procter) at dinner. That child looks like a poet's child, +and a poet. It has something "doomed" (what the Germans call +"fatal") in its appearance—such a preternaturally thoughtful, +mournful expression for a little child, such a marked brow over the +heavy blue eyes, such a transparent skin, such pale-golden hair. +John says the little creature is an elf-child. I think it is the +prophecy of a poet. [And so, indeed, it was, as all who know +Adelaide Procter's writings will agree—a poet who died too early +for the world, though not before she had achieved a poet's fame, +and proved herself her father's worthy daughter.] ... In the +afternoon, I found my mother deep in her French novel, from which +she read me two very striking passages—the description of +Esmeralda, which was like a fine painting, and extremely beautiful, +and the sketch of Quasimodo's life, ending with his riding on the +great bell of the cathedral. Very powerful and very insane—a sort +of mental nightmare, giving one as much the idea of disorder of +intellect as such an image occurring to one in a dream would of a +disordered stomach. Harmony, order, the beauty of goodness and the +justice of God, are alike ignored in such works. How sad it is for +the future as well as for the present!</p> + +<p><i>Monday, 30th.</i>—King Charles' martyrdom gives me a holiday +to-night. Excellent martyr! Victor Hugo has set my mother raving. +She didn't sleep all night, and says the book is bad in its +tendency and shocking in its details; nevertheless, she goes on +reading it....</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday, January 31st.</i>— ... Went to Turnerelli's. He is making a +bust of me, that will perhaps be like—the man in the moon. Dall +was kind enough to read to me Mrs. Jameson's "Christina" while I +sat. I like it extremely. After I came home, read Shirley's play of +"The Two Sisters." I didn't like it much. It is neither very +interesting, very witty, nor very poetical, and might almost be a +modern work for its general want of power and character. The women +appear to me a little exaggerated—the one is mad and the other +silly. At the theater in the evening the house was very good +indeed—the play, "Katharine of Cleves;" but poor Mr. Warde was so +ill he could hardly stand.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, February 1st.</i>— ... Drove out with Henry <a name="Page_500" id="Page_500" ></a><span class="pagenum">[500]</span>in the new +carriage. It is very handsome, but by no means as convenient or +capacious as our old rumble. Oh, these vanities! How we sacrifice +everything to them!</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, 2d.</i> ... Rode out with my father. The whole world was +abroad in the sunshine, like so many flies. My mother was walking +with John and Henry, and Henry Greville. I should like to tell him +two words of my mind on the subject of lending "Notre Dame de +Paris" about to women. At any rate, we vulgar females are not as +much accustomed to mental dram-drinking as his fine-lady friends, +and don't stand that sort of thing so well.... In the evening we +went to the theater to see "The Haunted Tower." Youth and first +impressions are wonderful magicians. (I forget whether the music of +this piece was by Storace or Michael Kelly.) This was an opera +which I had heard my father and mother talk of forever. I went full +of expectation accordingly, and was entirely disappointed. The +meagerness and triteness of the music and piece astonished me. +After the full orchestral accompaniments, the richly harmonized +concerted pieces and exquisite melodies lavished on us in our +modern operas, these simple airs and their choruses and mean +finales produce an effect from their poverty of absolute musical +starvation.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, January 31, 1832.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H—— G——</span>, +</p> + +<p>You are coming to England, and you will certainly not do so again +without coming to us. My father and mother, you know, speak by me +when I assure you that a visit from you would give us all the +greatest pleasure.... Do not come late in the season to us, because +at present we do not know whether June or July may take us out of +town.... With my scheme of going to America, I think I can look the +future courageously in the face. It is something to hold one's +fortune in one's own hands; if the worst comes to the worst it is +but another year's drudgery, and the whereabouts really matters +little.... We hear that the cholera is in Edinburgh. I cannot help +thinking with the deepest anxiety of those I love there, and I +imagine with sorrow that beautiful, noble city, those breezy hills, +those fresh, sea-weedy shores and coasts breathed upon by that dire +pestilence. The city of the winds, where the purifying currents of +keen air sweep through every thoroughfare and eddy round every +corner—perched up so high upon her rocky throne, she seems to sit +in a freer, finer <a name="Page_501" id="Page_501" ></a><span class="pagenum">[501]</span>atmosphere than all the world beside! (I appear, +in my enthusiastic love for Edinburgh, to have forgotten those +Immonderraze, the wynds and closes of the old town.) I hope the +report may not prove true, though from a letter I have received +from my cousin Sally (Siddons) the plague is certainly within six +miles of them. She writes very rationally about it, and I can +scarce forbear superstitiously believing that God's mercy will +especially protect those who are among His most devoted and dutiful +children....</p> + +<p>You speak of my love of nature almost as if it were a quality for +which I deserve commendation. It is a blessing for which I am most +grateful. You who live uninclosed by paved streets and brick walls, +who have earth, sea, and sky <i>à discrétion</i> spread round you in all +their majestic beauty, cannot imagine how vividly my memory recalls +and my mind dwells upon mere strips of greensward, with the shadows +of trees lying upon them. The colors of a patch of purple heather, +broken banks by roadsides through which sunshine streamed—often +mere effects of light and shade—return to me again and again like +tunes, and <i>to shut my eyes and look at them</i> is a perfect delight +to me. I suppose one is in some way the better as well as the +happier for one's sympathy with the fair things of this fair world, +which are types of things yet fairer, and emanations from the great +Source of all goodness, loveliness, and sublimity. Whether in the +moral or material universe, images and ideas of beauty must always +be in themselves good. Beauty is one manifestation and form of +truth, and the transition seems to me almost inevitable from the +contemplation of things that are lovely to one's <i>senses</i> to those +which are <i>lovable</i> by one's spirits' higher and finer powers of +apprehension. The mind is kept sunny and calm, and free from ill +vapors, by the influence of beautiful things; and surely God loves +beauty, for from the greatest to the smallest it pervades all His +works; and poetry, painting, and sculpture are not as beautiful as +the things they reproduce, because of the imperfect nature-of their +creator—man; though <i>his</i> works are only good in proportion as he +puts his soul—<i>i.e.</i>, the Spirit of God—inspiration into them.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Your affectionate</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, February 17, 1832.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>"Francis I." will come out on the 1st of March, so your starting on +the 25th will do quite well for that; but it is <a name="Page_502" id="Page_502" ></a><span class="pagenum">[502]</span>right I should tell +you what may possibly deter you from coming. A report prevails that +the cholera is approaching London, and though I cannot say that I +feel nervous upon the subject, perhaps, under these circumstances, +you had rather or better not come.</p> + +<p>There have been many assertions and contradictions about it, of +course, and I know nothing but that such a rumor is prevalent, and +if this should cause you or (what is more likely) yours an +instant's hesitation, you must give up your visit. I know our +disappointment will be mutual and equal, and I am sure you will not +inflict it either upon yourself or me without adequate reason, so I +will say no more about it.</p> + +<p>The reason for bringing out "Francis I." now is that Milman has +undertaken to review it in the next <i>Quarterly</i>, and Murray wishes +the production of the play at the theater to be simultaneous with +the publication of the <i>Review</i>.</p> + +<p>My wrath and annoyance upon the subject have subsided, and I have +now taken refuge with restored equanimity in my "cannot help it." +Certainly I said and did all I could to hinder it.</p> + +<p>I do not feel at all nervous about the fate of the play—no English +public will damn an attempt of that description, however much it +may deserve it; and paradoxical as it may sound, a London audience, +composed as it for the most part is of pretty rough, coarse, and +hard particles, makes up a most soft-hearted and good-natured +whole, and invariably in the instance of a new actor or a new +piece—whatever partial private ill will may wish to do—the +majority of the spectators is inclined to patience and indulgence. +I do not mean that I shall not turn exceedingly sick when I come to +set my foot upon the stage that night; but it will only be with a +slight increase of the alarm which I undergo with every new part. +My poor mother will be the person to be pitied; I wish she would +take an opiate and go to bed, instead of to the theater that +night....</p> + +<p>I was at a party last night where I met Lord Hill (then commander +of the forces), who had himself presented to me, and who renewed in +person the promise he had sent me through Sir John Macdonald (who +was adjutant-general), to exert and interest himself to the utmost +of his power about Henry's commission.</p> + +<p>John has finished his Anglo-Saxon book, and Murray has undertaken +to publish it for him, offering at the same time to share with him +whatever profits may accrue from it. The work is of a nature which +cannot give either a quick or consid<a name="Page_503" id="Page_503" ></a><span class="pagenum">[503]</span>erable return; but the offer, +like all Mr. Murray's dealings with me, is very kind and liberal, +for a publisher is not easily found any more than readers for such +matter. (The book was the Anglo-Saxon Poem of Beowulf.) He asked me +to let him publish "Francis I.," as it is to be acted, without the +fifth act, but this I would not consent to. I have rather an +affection for my last scene in the Certoso at Pavia, with the monks +singing the "De Profundis" while the battle was going on, and the +king being brought in a prisoner and making the response to the +psalm—which is all historically true....</p> + +<p>I must bid you good-by, dear, as I am going to the Angerstein +Gallery with the Fitzhughs....</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Yours ever affectionately,</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p> + + +<p class="gap"><i>Saturday, 4th.</i>—I was obliged to send an excuse to Turnerelli. I +could not sit to him this morning, as it is now determined that +"Francis I." is to be brought out, and received official notice +that it was to be read in the greenroom to-day. We went to the +theater at eleven, and all the actors were there. I felt very +uncomfortable and awkward; but, after all, writing a play is not a +sin, so I plucked up my courage and sat down with the rest. My +father read it beautifully, but even cut as it is, it is of an +<i>unendurable</i> length. They were all very kind and civil, and +applauded it very much; but I do not love the sound of clapping of +hands, and did not feel on this occasion as if I had done the sort +of thing that deserves it....</p> + +<p>At half-past five went to the theater; it was the first night of +the opera, and rained besides, both which circumstances thinned our +house; but I suspect "Katharine of Cleves" has nearly lived her +life. Driving to the theater, my father told me that they had +entirely altered the cast of "Francis I." from what I had +appointed, and determined to finish the play with the fourth act. I +felt myself get very red, but I didn't speak, though I cannot but +think an author has a right to say whether he or she will have +certain alterations made in their work. My position is a difficult +one, for did I not feel bound to comply with my father's wishes I +would have no hand in this experiment. I would forfeit fifty—nay, +a hundred—pounds willingly rather than act in this play, which I +am convinced ought not to be acted at all. Any other person might +do this, but with me it is a question of home duty, instead of a +mere matter of business between author, actress, and manager. They +couldn't act the play without me, and but for my father I should +from the first have refused to act in it at all. I do not think +that <a name="Page_504" id="Page_504" ></a><span class="pagenum">[504]</span>they manage wisely; it is a mere snatch at a bit of profit by +a way of catchpenny venture, to secure which they are running the +risk of injuring me more ways than one, and through me their own +interests. It seems to me shortsighted policy, but I cannot help +myself. After the play came home to supper, and at eleven went to +Lady Dacre's. Sidney Smith, Rogers. Conversation sharp. Lots of +people that I knew, in spite of which, in consequence, I suppose, +of my own state of spirits, I did not enjoy myself. Mrs. Norton was +there; she sang "My Arab Steed," and "Yes, Aunt," and "Joe Hardy;" +the latter I do not think very good. They made me sing; I was +horribly frightened. Julian Young was there; his manner and +appearance are not very good, but his voice is beautiful and he +sang very well.</p> + +<p><i>Sunday, 5th.</i>— ... When I came back from church I found Campbell +with my mother, scraping up information about Mrs. Siddons for his +and her "life." I left him with her, and when I came back he was +gone, and in his place, as if he had turned into her, sat Mrs. +Fitzgerald in a green velvet gown trimmed with sables, which +excited my admiration and envy. I should like to have been living +in the days and countries where persons, as a mark of favor, took +off their dress and threw it on your shoulders. How pleasant it +would have been!...</p> + +<p>Just before going to bed I spoke of writing a preface to "Francis +I.," which brought on a discussion with my mother on the subject of +that ill-fated piece, in the middle of which my father came in, and +I summoned up courage to say something of what I felt about it, and +how disagreeable it was to me to act in it, feeling as I did. I do +not think I can make them understand that I do not care a straw +whether the piece dies and is damned the first night, or is cut up +alive the next morning, but that I do care that, in spite of my +protestations, it should be acted at all, and should be cut and +cast in a manner that I totally disapprove of.</p> + +<p><i>Monday, 6th.</i>— ... On our way to the theater my father told me +that the whole cast of "Francis I." is again turned topsy-turvy. +Patience of me! I felt very cross, so I held my tongue. Mr. and +Miss Harness came home to supper with us, and had a long talk about +"Francis I.," my annoyance about which culminated, I am ashamed to +say, in a fit of crying.</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday, 7th.</i>—So "Francis I." is in the bills, I see....</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, 8th.</i>— ... At eleven "The Provoked Husband" was +rehearsed in the saloon, and Mr. Meadows brought <a name="Page_505" id="Page_505" ></a><span class="pagenum">[505]</span>Carlo to see me. +[Carlo was a splendid Newfoundland dog, which my friend, Mr. +Drinkwater Meadows, used to bring to the theater to see me. His +solemnity, when he was desired to keep still while the rehearsal +was going on, was magnificent, considering the stuff he must have +thought it.] ... After dinner went to the theater. The house was +bad; the play, "The Provoked Husband." I played ill in spite of my +pink gauze gown, which is inestimable and as fresh as ever. After +supper dressed and off to Mrs. G——'s, and had a very nice +ball....</p> + +<p><i>Friday, 10th.</i>— ... I wrote to H—— to beg her to come to me +directly; I wish her so much to be here when my play comes out. +Went to the theater at a quarter to six. The house was bad; the +play, "Katharine of Cleves." I acted pretty well, <i>though</i> my +dresses are getting shockingly dirty, and in one of the scenes my +wreath fell backward, and I was obliged to take it off in the +middle of all my epistolary agony; and what was still worse, after +my husband had locked me in one room and my wreath in another, it +somehow found its way back upon my head for the last scene. At the +end of the play, which has now been acted ten nights, some people +began hissing the pinching incident. It was always considered the +dangerous passage of the piece, but a reasonable public should know +that a play must be damned on its first night, or not at all.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday, 11th.</i>— ... A long walk with my mother, and a long talk +about Shakespeare, especially about the beauty of his songs....</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday, 14th.</i>— ... Read the family my prologue. My mother did +not like it at all; my father said it would do very well. John +asked why there need be any prologue to the play, which is +precisely what I do not understand. However, I was told to write +one and I did, and they may use it or not just as they please. I am +determined to say not another word about the whole vexatious +business, and so peace be with them.... In the evening a charming +little dinner-party at Mr. Harness's. The G——s, Arthur K——, +Procter (Barry Cornwall), who is delightful, Sir William Millman, +and ourselves.... Dear Mr. Harness has spoken to Murray about +John's book, and has settled it all for him. On my return home, I +told John of the book being accepted, at which he was greatly +pleased. [The book in question was my brother's history of the +Anglo-Saxons, of which Lord Macaulay once spoke to me in terms of +the high<a name="Page_506" id="Page_506" ></a><span class="pagenum">[506]</span>est enthusiasm, deploring that John had not followed up +that line of literature to a much greater extent.]</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, 15th.</i>— ... My father went to the opening dinner of +the Garrick Club.... After tea I read Daru, and copied fair a +speech I had been writing for an imaginary member of the House of +Peers, on the Reform Bill. John Mason called, and they sat down to +a rubber, and I came to my own room and read "King Lear." ...</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, 16th.</i>— ... While I was at the Fitzhughs' Miss Sturges +Bourne came in, and she and Emily had a very interesting +conversation about books for the poor. Among other things Emily +said that Lady Macdonald had written up to her from the country, to +say that she wanted some more books of sentiment, for that by the +way in which these were thumbed it was evident that they alone +would "go down." Upon inquiry, I found that these "sentimental" +books were religious tracts, highly flavored with terror or pathos, +and in one way or another calculated to convey the strongest +excitement upon the last subject with which excitement ought to +have anything to do. Pious stimulants, devout drams, this is trying +to do good, but I think mistaking the way....</p> + +<p>In the evening we went to Lady Farquhar's; this was a finer party, +as it is called, than the last, but not so pleasant. All the world +was there. Mrs. Norton the magnificent, and that lovely sister of +hers, Mrs. Blackwood (afterwards Lady Dufferin), crowned like +Bacchantes with grapes, and looking as beautiful as dreams. Heaps +of acquaintance and some friends....</p> + +<p><i>Sunday, 10th.</i>— ... In the evening I read Daru. What fun that +riotous old Pope Julius is! Poor Gaston de Foix! It was young to +leave life and such well-begun fame. The extracts from Bayard's +life enchant me. I am glad to get among my old acquaintance again. +Mr. Harness came in rather late and said all manner of kind things +about "The Star of Seville," but I was thinking about his play all +the while; it does not seem to me that the management is treating +him well. If it does not suit the interests of the theater to bring +it out now, he surely should be told so, and not kept in a state of +suspense, which cannot be delightful to any author, however little +of an egotist he may be.</p> + +<p><i>Monday, 20th.</i>—Went to Kensington Gravel Pits to see Lady +Calcott, and sat with her a long time. That dying woman, sitting in +the warm spring sunlight, surrounded with early-blowing hyacinths, +the youngest born of the year, was a touching <a name="Page_507" id="Page_507" ></a><span class="pagenum">[507]</span>object. She is a +charming person, so full of talent and of goodness. She talked with +her usual cheerfulness and vivacity. Presently Sir Augustus came +down from the painting-room to see me.... I could hardly prevent +myself from crying, and I am afraid I looked very sad. As I was +going away and stooped to kiss her, she sweetly and solemnly bade +"God bless me," and I thought her prayer was nearer to heaven than +that of most people....</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday, 21st.</i>— ... After tea dropped John at Mr. Murray's in +Albemarle Street, and went on to the theater to see the new opera; +our version of "Robert the Devil." The house was very full. Henry +Greville was there, with the Mitfords and Mrs. Bradshaw. What an +extraordinary piece, to be sure! I could not help looking at the +full house and wondering how so many decent Englishmen and women +could sit through such a spectacle.... The impression made upon me +by the subject of Meyerbeer's celebrated opera appears to have +entirely superseded that of the undoubtedly fine music; but I never +was able to enjoy the latter because of the former, and the only +shape in which I ever enjoyed "Robert the Devil" was in M. +Levassor's irresistibly ludicrous account of it in the character of +a young Paris <i>badaud</i>, who had just come from seeing it at the +theater. His version of its horrors was laughable in the extreme, +especially when, coming to the episode of the resurrection of the +nuns, he contrived to give the most comical effect of a whole +crowd—gibbering, glissading women greeting one another with the +rapid music of the original scene, to which he adapted the words—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Quoi c'est moi c'est toi,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oui c'est toi c'est moi;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comme nous voila bien dégommés."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Mendelssohn's opinion of the subjects chosen for operas in his day +(even such a story as that of the Sonnambula) was scornful in the +extreme.</p> + +<p><i>Friday, 24th.</i>— ... Dined with the Fitzhughs, and after dinner +proceeded to the Adelphi, where we went to see "Victorine," which I +liked very much. Mrs. Yates acted admirably the whole of it, but +more particularly that part where she is old and in distress and +degradation. There was a dreary look of uncomplaining misery about +her, an appearance as of habitual want and sorrow and suffering, a +heavy, slow, subdued, broken deportment, and a way of speaking that +was excellent and was what struck me most in her performance, for +<a name="Page_508" id="Page_508" ></a><span class="pagenum">[508]</span>the end is sure to be so effective that she shares half her merit +there with the situation. Reeve is funny beyond anything; his face +is the most humorous mask I ever saw in my life. I think him much +more comical than Liston. The carriage was not come at the end of +the first piece, so we had to wait through part of "Robert the +Devil" (given at last, such was its popularity, at every theater in +London). Of course, after our own grand <i>diablerie</i>, it did not +strike me except as being wonderfully well done, considering the +size and means of their little stage. [Yates made a most capital +fiend: I should not like a bit to be Mrs Yates after seeing him +look that part so perfectly.]</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, February 24, 1832.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I have this moment received your letter, and though rather +disappointed myself, I am glad you are to see Dorothy as well as +we, so that your visit southward is to be two pleasures instead of +one. The representation of "Francis I." is delayed until next +Wednesday, 7th March; not on account of cholera, but of scenery and +other like theatrical causes of postponement....</p> + +<p>I am greatly worried and annoyed about my play. The more I see and +hear of it the stronger my perception grows of its defects, which, +I think, are rendered even more glaring by the curtailments and +alterations necessary for its representation; and the whole thing +distresses me as much as such a thing can. I send you the cast of +the principal characters for the instruction of my Ardgillan +friends, by whose interest about it I am much gratified. My father +is to be De Bourbon; John Mason, the king; Mr. Warde, the monk; Mr. +Bennett, Laval. These are the principal men's parts. I act the +queen-mother; Miss Taylor, Margaret de Valois; and Miss Tree, +Françoise de Foix.</p> + +<p>I am reading Cooper's novel of "The Borderers." It is striking and +powerful, and some of it I think very beautiful, especially all +that regards poor Ruth, which, I remember, is what struck you so +much. I like the book extremely. There is a soft sobriety of color +over it all that pleases me, and reminds me of your constant +association of religion and the simple labors of an agricultural +life. It is wonderful how striking the description of this +neutral-tinted existence is, in which life, love, death, and even +this wild warfare with the savage tribes, by which these people +were surrounded, appear divested of all <a name="Page_509" id="Page_509" ></a><span class="pagenum">[509]</span>their natural and usual +excitements. Religion alone (and this, of course, was inevitable) +is the one imaginative and enthusiastic element in their existence, +and that alone becomes the source of vehement feeling and +passionate excitement which ought least to admit of fanciful +interpretations and exaggerated and morbid sentiment. But the +picture is admirably well drawn, and I cannot help sometimes +wishing I had lived in those days, and been one of that little +colony of sternly simple and fervently devout Christian souls. But +I should have been a furious fanatic; I should have "seen visions +and dreamed dreams," and fancied myself a prophetess to a +certainty.</p> + +<p>That luckless concern, in which you are a luckless shareholder +(Covent Garden), is going to the dogs faster and faster every day; +and, in spite of the Garrick Club and all its noble regenerators of +the drama, I think the end of it, and that no distant one, will be +utter ruin. They have been bringing out a new grand opera, called +"Robert the Devil," which they hope to derive much profit from, as +it is beyond all precedent absurd and horrible (and, as I think, +disgusting); but I am almost afraid that it has none of these good +qualities in a sufficient degree to make it pay its own enormous +cost. I have seen it once, and came home with such a pain in my +side and confused chaos in my head that I do not think I shall ever +wish to see it again. Write me a line to say when I may look for +you.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Ever affectionately yours,</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p> + + +<p class="gap"><i>Saturday, 25th.</i>— ... Finished Fenimore Cooper's interesting and +pathetic novel, "The Borderers." ... I came down into the +drawing-room with a headache, a sideache, a heartache, and swollen +red eyes, and my mother greeted me with the news that the theater +was finally ruined, that at Easter it must close, that we must all +go different ways, and I probably to America. I was sobered from my +imaginary sorrow directly; for it is astonishing what a different +effect real and fictitious distress has upon one. I could not +answer my mother, but I went to the window and looked up and down +the streets that were getting empty and dark and silent, and my +heart sank as I thought of leaving my home, my England.... After +dinner Madame le Beau came to try on my Louisa of Savoy's dress; it +is as ugly and unbecoming, but as correct, as possible....</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, 23d.</i>—At eleven went to the theater to rehearse +"Francis I." The actors had most of them been civil enough to learn +their parts, and were tolerably perfect. Mr. Bennett <a name="Page_510" id="Page_510" ></a><span class="pagenum">[510]</span>will play his +very well indeed, if he does not increase in energy when he comes +to act. Miss Tree, too, I think, will do her part very nicely. John +Mason is rather vulgar and 'prentice-like for Francis, that mirror +of chivalry. After rehearsal I went to Dévy, to consult about my +dress. I have got a picture of the very woman, Louisa of Savoy, +queen-mother of France, and, short of absolute hideousness, I will +make myself as like her as I can....</p> + +<p>Arthur Hallam dined with us. I am not sure that I do not like him +the best of all John's friends. Besides being so clever, he is so +gentle, charming, and winning. At half-past ten went to Mrs. +Norton's. My father, who had received a summons from the Court of +Chancery, did not come.... It was a very fine, and rather dull, +party.... Mrs. Norton looks as if she were made of precious stones, +diamonds, emeralds, rubies, sapphires; she is radiant with beauty. +And so, in a different way, is that vision of a sister of hers +(Georgiana Sheridan, Lady St. Maur, Duchess of Somerset, and Queen +of Beauty), with her waxen, round, white arms, and eyes streaming +with soft brilliancy, like fountains by moonlight. To look at two +such creatures for an hour is enough to make the world brighter for +several hours.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, 24th.</i>—At eleven went to rehearsal. While we were +rehearsing Mr. Bartley came and told me that the play, "Francis +I.," would not be done for a fortnight, and afterward my father +told me he did not think it was right, or fitting, or doing me +justice to bring out my play without some little attention to +scenery, decorations, etc. I entreated him to go to no expense for +it, for I am sure it will not repay them. Moreover, they have given +their scenery, and finery, and dressing, and decoration, and +spectacle in such profusion to "Robert the Devil" that I am sure +they cannot afford a heavy outlay upon anything else just now. +However, I could not prevail, and probably the real reason for +putting off "Francis I." is the expediency of running the new opera +as long as it will draw before bringing out anything else, which, +of course, is good policy....</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, 29th.</i>—H—— has gone to York. What a disappointment! +After all, it's only one more added to the budget. Yet why do I say +that? One scores one's losses, and takes no reckoning of one's +gains, which is neither right nor fair to one's life....</p> + +<p>I rode with Henry, and after I got home told my father that his +horse was quite well, and would be fit for his use on Satur<a name="Page_511" id="Page_511" ></a><span class="pagenum">[511]</span>day. He +replied sadly that his horse must be sold, for that from the first, +though he had not liked to vex me by saying so, it was an expense +he could not conscientiously afford. I had expected this, and +certainly, when from day to day a man may be obliged to declare +himself insolvent, keeping a horse does seem rather absurd. He then +went on to speak about the ruin that is falling upon us; and dismal +enough it is to stand under the crumbling fabric we have spent +having and living, body, substance, and all but soul, to prop, and +see that it must inevitably fall and crush us presently. Yet from +my earliest childhood I remember this has been hanging over us. I +have heard it foretold, I have known it expected, and there is no +reason why it should now take any of us by surprise, or strike us +with sudden dismay. Thank God, our means of existence lie within +ourselves; while health and strength are vouchsafed to us there is +no need to despond. It is very hard and sad to be come so far on in +life, or rather so far into age, as my father is, without any hope +of support for himself and my mother but toil, and that of the +severest kind; but God is merciful. He has hitherto cared for us, +as He cares for all His creatures, and He will not forsake us if we +do not forsake Him or ourselves.... My father and I need scarcely +remain without engagements, either in London or the provinces.... +If our salaries are smaller, so must our expenses be. The house +must go, the carriage must go, the horses must go, and yet we may +be sufficiently comfortable and very happy—unless, indeed, we have +to go to America, and that will be dreadful.... We are yet all +stout and strong, and we are yet altogether. It is pitiful to see +how my father still clings to that theater. Is it because? the art +he loves, once had its noblest dwelling there? Is it because his +own name and the names of his brother and sister are graven, as it +were, on its very stones? Does he think he could not act in a +smaller theater? What can, in spite of his interest, make him so +loth to leave that ponderous ruin? Even to-day, after summing up +all the sorrow and care and toil, and waste of life and fortune +which that concern has cost his brother, himself, and all of us, he +exclaimed, "Oh, if I had but £10,000, I could set it all right +again, even now!" My mother and I actually stared at this +infatuation. If I had twenty, or a hundred thousand pounds, not one +farthing would I give to the redeeming of that fatal millstone, +which cannot be raised, but will infallibly drag everything tied to +it down to the level of its own destruction. The past is past, and +for the future we must think and act as speedily as we may. If our +salaries are half <a name="Page_512" id="Page_512" ></a><span class="pagenum">[512]</span>what they are now we need not starve; and, as +long as God keeps us in health of body and mind, nothing need +signify, provided we are not obliged to separate and go off to that +dreadful America.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, March 1st.</i>— ... After dinner I read over again +Knowles's play, "The Hunchback," and like it better than ever. What +would I not give to have written that play! He cannot agree with +Drury Lane about it, and has brought it back to us, and means to +act Master Walter himself. I am so very glad. It will be the most +striking dramatic exhibition that has been seen since Kean's +<i>début</i>. I wish "Francis I." was done, and done with, and that we +were rehearsing "The Hunchback."</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Great Russell Street</span>, March 1, 1832. +</p> + +<p>... As for any disappointment of mine about anything, dear H——, +though some things are by no means light to me, I soon make up my +mind to whatever must be, and I think those who do not endure well +what cannot be avoided are only less foolish than those who endure +what they can avoid. "Francis I." will not, I think, interfere with +your visit to us. Murray wishes it to be postponed till after the +publication of the <i>Quarterly</i>, which will come out about the 11th +or 12th. Lockhart, and not Milman, has reviewed it very favorably, +I hear, and Murray expects to sell one edition immediately upon the +publication of the article in the <i>Quarterly</i>. So that you can stay +at Fulford some time yet; and should the play be given before you +wish to leave it, I shall not expect you in person, but feel sure +that you are with me in spirit; and the next day I will write you +word of the result.</p> + +<p>Dearest H——, I am just now much burdened with anxiety. I will +tell you more of this when we meet. Thank God, though not of a +sanguine, I am not of a desponding nature; and though I never look +forward with any great satisfaction to the future, I seldom find it +difficult to accept the present with tolerable equanimity.... I +spent the evening on Wednesday with Mrs. Jameson. She is just +returned to town, and came immediately, thinking you were here, to +engage us for the next evening; and as you did not come I went, and +spent three hours very pleasantly with her. She knows so much, and +I am so very ignorant, that her conversation is delightfully +instructive as well as amusing, full of interest and information. +Poor woman! she left Tedsley and a very agreeable party to come up +to town upon a false alarm of "Francis I.'s" coming out. I <a name="Page_513" id="Page_513" ></a><span class="pagenum">[513]</span>think I +have told you of the work upon Shakespeare she is engaged with; she +has been teaching herself to etch, and has executed some charming +designs, with which she means to illustrate it. I have not an idea +what our plans for this summer are to be; whether America, or the +provinces, or the King's Bench; but I suppose we shall see a little +more clearly into the future by the time you come to us; and if we +do not, abundantly "sufficient for the day is the evil thereof" +with us just now.... I have been reading nothing but Daru's +"History of Venice" lately. How could you tell me to read that sad +story, "The Borderers"! I half killed myself with crying over it, +and did not recover from the effect it had upon me for several +days.</p> + +<p>Dearest H——, I am writing nonsense, and with an effort, for I am +very low; and so I will leave off.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Your affectionate</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p> + + +<p class="gap"><i>Friday, March 2d.</i>—I read Shirley's "Gentleman of Venice," and +did not like it much.... While I was riding in the park with John, +Mr. Willett came up to us, and told me, as great good news, that +they were out of Chancery, and had obtained an order to have their +money out of court. I thought this indeed good news, and we +cantered up the drive in hopes of meeting my mother in the +carriage; but she had gone home. On reaching home, I ran to look +for her, but thought she would like better to hear the news from my +father.</p> + +<p>I told Dall of it, however; and she, who had just seen my father, +said that he considered what had happened a most unfortunate thing +for him; and so my bright, new joy fell to the ground, and was +broken all to pieces. Upon further explanation, however, it seems +that it is an advantage to the other proprietors, though not to +him; no part of the recovered money returning to him, because he +had borrowed his share of it from Mr. Willett; and the only +difference is that he will not have to pay the interest on it any +more, and so far it is a small advantage to him. But it is a great +one to them, poor men! and therefore we ought to be glad, and not +look only at our own share of the business, though naturally that +is the most interesting to us. I sometimes doubt, after all, if we +have really by any means a clear and comprehensive view of the +whole state of that concern, receiving our impressions from my +father, who naturally looks at it only from the side of his own +personal stake in it.... After dinner John read me a letter he <a name="Page_514" id="Page_514" ></a><span class="pagenum">[514]</span>had +just received from Richard Trench—a most beautiful letter. What a +fine fellow he is, and what a noble set of young men these friends +of my brother's are! After tea read Arthur Hallam's essay on the +philosophical writings of Cicero. It is very excellent; I should +like to have marked some of the passages, they are so admirably +clear and true; but he has only lent it to me. His Latin and Greek +quotations were rather a trial, but I have no doubt his English is +as good as anything he quotes. Surely England twenty years hence +should be in a higher state of moral and intellectual development +than it is now: these young heads seem to me admirably good and +strong, and some score years hence these fine spirits will be +influencing the national mind and soul of England; and it pleases +me much to think so. [Alas! as far as dear Arthur Hallam was +concerned, my prophetic confidence was vain.] After finishing +Hallam's essay, I took up "King Lear," and read the end of that, +"and my poor fool is hanged!" O Lord, what an agony! In reading +"Lear," one of Mr. Harness's criticisms on my "Star of Seville" +recurred to me. In the scene where Estrella deplores her brother's +death, I have used frequent repetition of the same words and +exclamations. I wrote upon impulse, without deliberation, and +simply as my conception of sorrow prompted me, such words as grew +from my heart and not my understanding. But in reading "King Lear," +the iteration in the expression of deep grief confirms me in the +opinion that it is natural to all men, and not peculiar to myself, +for Shakespeare has done it. In the scene where Gloster tells +Cornwall and Regan of Edgar's supposed wickedness, the wretched old +father uses frequent repetition, as, "Oh, madam, my old heart is +cracked; it's cracked!" "Oh, lady, lady, shame would have it hid!" +"I know not, madam: 'tis too bad, too bad!" and in the last scene, +that most piteous and terrible close that story ever had, the poor +old king, in his moanings over Cordelia, repeats his words over and +over again. I defend my conception, not my execution of it; and +true and touching as these repetitions of Shakespeare's are, mine +may be "damnable iteration," and nothing else. Heart-broken sorrow +has but few words; utter bereavement is not eloquent; and David, +when the darling of his soul was dead, did but cry, "O Absalom, my +son, my son! would God I had died for thee, my son!" A vastly +different expression of a vastly different grief from that which +poured itself out in the sad and noble dirge, "The beauty of Israel +is slain upon thy high places: how are the mighty fallen!"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_515" id="Page_515" ></a><span class="pagenum">[515]</span><i>Saturday, 3d.</i>—Henry has obtained his commission; one great piece +of good fortune amid all the bad, for which God be thanked. [The +liberal price given me by Mr. Murray for my play of "Francis I." +enabled me to purchase my brother's commission, which, however, the +money would not have obtained without the extremely kind interest +exerted in his favor by Lord Hill, then commander, and Sir John +Macdonald, adjutant-general of the forces.]</p> + +<p><i>Sunday, 4th.</i>— ... My father is in deplorable spirits, and seems +bowed down with care. I believe all that befalls us is right. I +know we must bear it; all I pray for is health, strength and +courage to bear it well. In the evening the Harnesses drank tea +with us.</p> + +<p><i>Monday, 5th.</i>—Got ready things for the theater, and went over my +part.... In the afternoon, I hoped to hear the result of the +meeting that had been held by the creditors of the theater; but my +father had been obliged to leave it before anything was settled, +and did not know what had been the termination of the consultation. +At the theater the house was not good, neither was my acting. My +father acted admirably, to my amazement: for he has been in a most +wretched state of depression for the last week, and to-day at +dinner his face looked drawn and haggard and absolutely +lead-colored.</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday, 6th.</i>—After breakfast went with Henry and my father to +Cox and Greenwood's, the great army agents, to pay for his +commission. Oh, what a good job, to be sure! Then to the Horse +Guards, to thank dear Sir John Macdonald; then to Stable Yard, to +call upon Lord Fitzroy Somerset; and then home, much happier than I +had been for a long time.... Madame le Beau brought my dress for +Louisa of Savoy; it is very handsome, but I look hideous, and as +grim as Queen Death in it. However, it is a precise copy of the +woman's own picture, and I must comfort myself with that. In the +evening we went to a pleasant party at the Basil Montagues', where +for an hour I recovered my love of dancing, which has rather +forsaken me of late. The Rajah Ramohun Roy had himself introduced +to me, and we presently began a delightful nonsense conversation, +which lasted a considerable time, and amused me extremely. His +appearance is very striking; his picturesque dress and color make +him, of course, a remarkable object in a London ball-room; his +countenance, beside being very intellectual, has an expression of +great sweetness and benignity and his remarks and conversation are +in the highest degree interesting, when one remembers what mental +energy and moral <a name="Page_516" id="Page_516" ></a><span class="pagenum">[516]</span>force and determination he must have exerted to +break through all the trammels which have opposed his becoming what +he is. I was turning away from him for a few moments, to speak to +Mr. Montague, who had begun a very interesting discourse on the +analysis of the causes of laughter, when the Rajah recalled my +attention to himself by saying, "I am going to quote the Bible to +you: you remember that passage, 'The poor ye have always with you, +but Me ye have not always.' Now, Mr. Montague you have always with +you, but me you have not always." So we resumed our conversation +together, and kept up a brief interchange of persiflage which made +us both laugh very much, and in which he showed a very ready use of +English language for a stranger.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Procter talked to me a great deal about her little Adelaide, +who must be a most wonderful creature. The profound and +unanswerable questions put to us by these "children of light" +confound us with the sense of our own spiritual and mental +darkness. I often think of Tieck's lovely and deep-meaning story of +"The Elves." How little we know of the hidden mysterious springs +from which these crystal cups are filled, or of the unseen +companions that may have strayed with their fellow to the threshold +of this earth, and walk with it while it yet retains its purity and +innocence; but, as it journeys on, turn back and forsake it, and +return to their home, leaving their sister-soul to wander through +the world with sin and sorrow for companions.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, 7th.</i>—I sent "The Merchant of Venice" to Ramohun Roy, +who, in our conversation last night, expressed a great desire to +read it....</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, 8th.</i>— ... In the evening acted Beatrice. The house was +very good, which I was delighted to see. The Harnesses supped with +us. While we were at supper, the <i>Quarterly Review</i> came from +Murray's, and I read the article on "Francis I." aloud to them. It +is very "handsome," and I should think must satisfy my most +unreasonable friends. It more than satisfied me, for it made me out +a great deal cleverer than ever I thought I was, or ever, I am +afraid, shall be.</p> + +<p><i>Friday, 9th.</i>—Rehearsed "Francis I." When I came home found a +charming letter and some Indian books, from that most amiable of +all the wise men of the East, Ramohun Roy. Mrs. Jameson and Mr. +Harness called.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday, 10th.</i>—Rehearsed "Francis I." Tried on my dresses for +"The Hunchback;" they will be beautiful. The rehearsal was over +long before the carriage came for me; so I <a name="Page_517" id="Page_517" ></a><span class="pagenum">[517]</span>went into my father's +room and read the newspaper, while he and Mr. Bartley discussed the +cast of Knowles's play. It seems my father will not act in it. I am +sorry for that; it is hardly fair to Knowles, for no one else can +do it. My poor father seemed too bewildered to give any answer, or +even heed, to anything, and Mr. Bartley went away. My father +continued to walk up and down the room for nearly half an hour, +without uttering a syllable; and at last flung himself into a +chair, and leaned his head and arms on the table. I was horribly +frightened, and turned as cold as stone, and for some minutes could +not muster up courage enough to speak to him. At last I got up and +went to him, and, on my touching his arm, he started up and +exclaimed, "Good God, what will become of us all!" I tried to +comfort him, and spoke for a long time, but much, I fear, as a +blind man speaks of colors. I do not know, and I do not believe any +one knows, the real state of terrible involvement in which this +miserable concern is wrapped. What I dread most of all is that my +father's health will break down. To-day, while he was talking to +me, I saw him suddenly put his hand to his side in a way that sent +a pang through my heart. He seems utterly prostrated in spirit, and +I fear he will brood himself ill. God help us all! I came home with +a heavy heart, and got ready my things for the theater, and went +over my part. Emily called.... She brought me my aunt Siddons's +sketches of Constance and Lady Macbeth. They are simply written, +and though not analytically deep or powerful, are true, clear, and +good, as far as their extent reaches. She thinks Constance more +motherly than queenly, and I do not altogether agree with her. I do +not think the scene after Arthur is taken prisoner alone +establishes my aunt's position; the mother's sorrow there sweeps +every other consideration away. It is before that that I think her +love for her child is in some measure mixed with the feeling of the +sovereign for his heir; a love of power, in fact, embodied in the +boy who was to continue the dominion of a race of princes. He was +her royal child, and that I do not think she ever forgot till he +was, in her imagination, her dead child. She says she could endure +his being thrust from all his rights if he had been a less gracious +creature, and goes on—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But thou art fair, dear boy: and at thy birth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature and fortune joined to make thee great;"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and then bursts forth into her furious vituperation of those whose +treachery has frustrated his natural claim to greatness. The wo<a name="Page_518" id="Page_518" ></a><span class="pagenum">[518]</span>man, +too, who in the utmost bitterness of disappointment, in the utter +helplessness and desolation of betrayal, and the prostration of +anguish and despair, calls on the earth, not for a shelter, not for +a grave, or for a resting-place, but for a throne, is surely +royally ambitious, a queen more than anything else. Mrs. Siddons's +conception of Lady Macbeth is very beautiful, and I was +particularly struck by her imagination of her outward woman: the +deep blue eyes, the fair hair and fair skin of the northern woman +(though, by the by, Lady Macbeth is a Highlander—I suppose a Celt; +and they are a dark race); the frail feminine form and delicate +character of beauty, which, united to that undaunted mettle which +her husband pays homage to in her, constituted a complex spell, at +once soft and strong, sweet and powerful, and seemed to me a very +original idea. My aunt makes a curious suggestion, supported only +by her own conviction, for which, however, she demonstrates no +grounds, that in the banquet scene Lady Macbeth sees Banquo's ghost +at the same time Macbeth does. It is very presumptuous in me to +differ from her who has made such a wonderful study of this part, +but it seems to me that this would make Lady Macbeth all but +superhuman; and in the scene with her husband that precedes the +banquet, Macbeth's words to her give me to understand that she is +entirely innocent of the knowledge even of his crime.</p> + +<p><i>Monday, 12th.</i>—Went to the theater to rehearse "Francis I." Miss +Tree and Mr. Bennett will act their parts admirably, I think.... +When I got home got ready my things for the theater, and went over +my part. The play was "Much Ado about Nothing," and I played as ill +as usual. The house was pretty good.</p></div> + +<p>[Here occurs an interruption of some weeks in my journal.]</p> + +<p>My friend, Miss S——, came and paid me a long visit, during which my +play of "Francis I." and Knowles's play of "The Hunchback" were +produced, and it was finally settled that Covent Garden should be let to +the French manager and entrepreneur, Laporte, and that my father and +myself should leave England, and go for two years to America.</p> + +<p>[The success of "Francis I." was one of entirely indulgent forbearance +on the part of the public. An historical play, written by a girl of +seventeen, and acted in it by the authoress at one and twenty, was, not +unnaturally, a subject of some curiosity; and, as such, it filled the +house for a few nights. Its entire want of real merit, of course, made +it impossible that it should do anything more; and, after a few +representations, it <a name="Page_519" id="Page_519" ></a><span class="pagenum">[519]</span>made way for Knowles's delightful play, which had a +success as great and genuine as it was well deserved, and will not fail +to be a lasting favorite, alike with audiences and actors.]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Thursday, June 14th.</i>—A long break in my journal, and what a +dismal beginning to it again! At five o'clock H—— started for +Ireland.... Poor dear Dall cried bitterly at parting from her (my +aunt was to accompany me to America, and it was uncertain whether +we should see Miss S—— again before we sailed).... When I +returned, after seeing her off, I went disconsolately to my own +room. As I could not sleep, I took up the first book at hand, but +it was "Tristram Shandy," and too horribly discordant with my frame +of mind; besides, I don't like it at any time; it seems to me much +more coarse even than witty and humorous.</p> + +<p><i>Friday, 15th.</i>— ... Almost at our very door met old Lady Cork, +who was coming to see us: We stopped our carriages, and had a +bawling conversation through the windows respecting my plans, past, +present, and to come, highly edifying, doubtless, to the whole +neighborhood, and which ended by her ladyship shrieking out to me +that I was "a supernatural creature" in a tone which must have made +the mummies and other strange sojourners in the adjacent British +Museum jump again.... In the evening, at the theater, the play was +"The Hunchback," for Knowles's benefit, and the house was not good, +which I do think is a shame. I played well, though Miss Taylor +disconcerted me by coming so near me in her second scene that I +gave her a real slap in the face, which I was very sorry for, +though she deserved it. After the play, Mr. Harness, Mrs. Clarke, +and Miss James supped with us; and after supper, I dressed for a +ball at the G——s', ... and much I wondered what call I had to be +at a ball, except that the givers of this festival are kind and +good friends of ours, and are fond of me, and I of them. But I was +not very merry at their ball for all that. We came home at half +past two, which is called "very early." Mr. Bacon was there (editor +of the <i>Times</i>, who married my cousin, Fanny Twiss), but I had no +chance to speak to him, which I was sorry for, as I like his looks, +and I liked his books: the first are good, and the latter are +clever. I cried all the way home, which is a cheerful way of +returning from a ball.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday, 16th.</i>— ... Mrs. Clarke, Miss James, the Messrs. M——, +and Alfred Tennyson dined with us. I am always a little +disappointed with the exterior of our poet when I look at him, in +spite of his eyes, which are very fine; but his <a name="Page_520" id="Page_520" ></a><span class="pagenum">[520]</span>head and face, +striking and dignified as they are, are almost too ponderous and +massive for beauty in so young a man; and every now and then there +is a slightly sarcastic expression about his mouth that almost +frightens me, in spite of his shy manner and habitual silence. But, +after all, it is delightful to see and be with any one that one +admires and loves for what he has done, as I do him. Mr. Harness +came in the evening. He is excellent, and I am very fond of him. +They all went away about twelve.</p> + +<p><i>Monday, 18th.</i>— ... At the theater, in the evening, the house was +good, and I played pretty fairly.... At supper my father read us +his examination before the committee of the House of Commons about +this minor theater business. Of course, though every word he says +upon the subject is gospel truth, it will only pass for the partial +testimony of a person deeply interested in his own monopoly.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, 21st.</i>—Called on Mrs. Norton, ... and on Lady Dacre, to +bid her good-by. At the theater, in the evening, the house was +good, and I played very well. How sorry I shall be to go away! The +actors, too, all seem so sorry to have us go, and it will be so +hard to see none of the accustomed faces, to hear none of the +familiar voices, while discharging the tasks that are often so +irksome to me. John Mason came home after the play and supped with +us.</p> + +<p><i>Friday, 22d.</i>— ... In the afternoon I called upon the Sotherbys, +to bid them good-by; afterward to the Goldsmiths', on the same +cheerless errand. Stopped at dear Miss Cottin's to thank her for +the beautiful bracelet she had sent me as a farewell present; and +then on to Lady Callcott's, with whom I spent a few solemn +moments—solemnity not without sweetness—and I scarcely felt +sorrowful when she said, "I shall never see you again." She is +going to what we call heaven, nearer to God (that is, in her own +consciousness, nearer to God)....</p> + +<p>In the evening to the theater. I only played pretty well, except +the last scene, which was better than the rest. At the end of the +play Mr. Bartley made the audience a speech, mentioning our +departure, and bespeaking their good will for the new management. +The audience called for Knowles, and then clamored for us till we +were obliged to go out. They rose to receive us, and waved their +hats and handkerchiefs, and shouted farewell to us. It made my +heart ache to leave my kind, good, indulgent audience; my friends, +as I feel them to be; my countrymen, my English folk, my "very +worthy and approved good <a name="Page_521" id="Page_521" ></a><span class="pagenum">[521]</span>masters;" and as I thought of the +strangers for whom I am now to work in that distant strange country +to which we are going, the tears rushed into my eyes, and I hardly +knew what I was doing. I scarcely think I even made the +conventional courtesy of leave-taking to them, but I snatched my +little nosegay of flowers from my sash, and threw it into the pit +with handfuls of kisses, as a farewell token of my affection and +gratitude. And so my father, who was very much affected, led me +off, while the house rang with the cheering of the audience. When +we came off my courage gave way utterly, and I cried most bitterly. +As my father was taking me to my dressing-room Laporte ran after +us, to be introduced to me, to whom I wished success very +dolorously from the midst of my tears. He said he ought to cry at +our going away more than any one; and perhaps he is right, but we +should be better worth his while when we come back, if ever that +day comes. I saw numbers of people whom I knew standing behind the +scenes to take leave of us.</p> + +<p>I took an affectionate farewell of poor dear old Rye (the +property-man), and Louis, his boy, gave me two beautiful nosegays. +It was all wretched, and yet it was a pleasure to feel that those +who surrounded and were dependent on us cared for us. I know all +the servants and workpeople of the theater were fond of me, and it +was sad to say good-by to all these kind, civil, cordial, humble +friends; from my good, pretty little maid, who stood sobbing by my +dressing-room door, to the grim, wrinkled visage of honest old +Rye....</p></div> + +<p>[That was the last time I ever acted in the Covent Garden my uncle John +built; where he and my aunt took leave of the stage, and I made my first +entrance upon it. It was soon after altered and enlarged, and turned +into an opera-house; eventually it was burnt down, and so nothing +remains of it.]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The Harnesses and their friend Mr. F—— supped with us. Mr. +Harness talked all sorts of things to try and cheer me; he labored +hard to prove to me that the world was good and happy, but only +succeeded in convincing me that he was the one, and deserved to be +the other.</p> + +<p><i>Friday, 29th.</i>—On board the Scotch steamer for Edinburgh.... We +passed Berwick and Dunbar, and the Douglases' ancient hold +Tantallon, and the lines from "Marmion" came to my lips. Poor +Walter Scott! he will never sail by this lovely coast again, every +bold headland and silver creek of which lives in his song or story. +He has given of his own im<a name="Page_522" id="Page_522" ></a><span class="pagenum">[522]</span>mortality to the earth, which must ere +long receive the whole of his mortality....</p> + +<p><i>Saturday, 30th.</i>—Went to rehearsal.... After dinner Mary Anne, my +maid, knowing my foible, came in with her arms full of two of the +most beautiful children I ever saw in my life.... [These beautiful +children were the daughters of the Duc de Grammont, and were +sharing with their parents the exile of the King of France, Charles +X., who had found in his banishment a royal residence as ruined as +his fortunes in the old Scottish palace of Holyrood. Ida de +Grammont, the eldest of my angels, fulfilled the promise of her +beautiful childhood as the lovely Duchesse de Guyche.] We spent a +pleasant evening at Mrs. Harry Siddons's. Mr. Combe and Macdonald +(the sculptor) were there.</p> + +<p><i>Sunday, July 1st.</i>— ... We dined at Mr. Combe's, and had a very +pleasant dinner, but unluckily, owing to a stupid servant's +mistake, my old friend Mr. McLaren, who had been invited to meet +me, did not come. After dinner there was a tremendous discussion +about Shakespeare, but I do not think these men knew anything about +him. I talked myself into a fever, and ended, with great modesty +and propriety, by disabling all their judgments, at which piece of +impertinence they naturally laughed very heartily.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Edinburgh</span>, July 1, 1832.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>We left London on Wednesday at eight o'clock. The parting between +my mother and Dall (who never met again; my dear aunt died in +America, in the second year of our stay there), and myself and my +dear little sister, was most bitter.... John came down to Greenwich +with us, but would not come on board the steamboat. He stood on the +shore and I at the ship's side, looking at what I knew was him, +though my eyes could distinguish none of his features from the +distance. My poor mother stood crying by my side, and bade me send +him away. I gave him one signal, which he returned, and then ran up +the beach, and was gone!—gone for two years, perhaps more; perhaps +gone from me forever in this world!...</p> + +<p>We shall be in Liverpool on Monday morning, the 16th of July, and +go to Radley's Hotel, where I hope we shall find you on our +arrival. My father is pretty well, in spite of all the late +anxieties and annoyances he has had to wade through. In the course +of the day preceding our departure from London two arrests were +served upon him by creditors of the theater, <a name="Page_523" id="Page_523" ></a><span class="pagenum">[523]</span>who, I suppose, think +when he is gone the whole concern must collapse and fall to pieces, +and I began to think some means would be devised to prevent our +leaving England after all. Our parting on Wednesday morning was, as +I told you, most miserable.... My poor mother was braver than I had +expected; but her parting from us, poor thing, is yet to come.</p> + +<p>I found a letter from Emily Fitzhugh here, inclosing one as an +introduction to a lady in New York, who had once been her +friend.... Edinburgh is lovely and dear, and peace and quiet and +repose are always found by me near my dear Mrs. Harry Siddons; but +my heart is, oh, so sad!... Pray answer this directly. The time is +at hand when the quickest "directly" in our correspondence will be +three months.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Ever your affectionate</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p> + + +<p class="gap"><i>Monday, 2d.</i>—My father and I went to the theater to rehearse +"Romeo and Juliet." In the evening the house was very fair, +considering how much the hot weather is against us; but of all the +comfortless people to act to, commend me to an Edinburgh audience. +Their undemonstrativeness, too, is something more than mere +critical difficulty to be pleased; there is a want of kindliness in +the cold, discourteous way in which they allow a stranger to appear +before them without ever affording him the slightest token of their +readiness to accept the efforts made to please them. I felt quite +sorry this evening for poor Mr. Didear, to whom not the faintest +sign of encouragement was vouchsafed on his first coming on. This +is being cold to an unamiable degree, and seems to me both a want +of good feeling and good breeding. I acted as well as they would +let me. As for poor John Mason, concluding, I suppose, from their +frozen silence that he was flat and ineffective, he ranted and +roared, and pulled me about in the last scene, till I thought I +should have come to pieces in his hands, as the house-maids say of +what they break. I was dreadfully exhausted at the end of the play; +there is nothing so killing as an ineffectual appeal to sympathy, +and, as the Italians know, "ben servire e non gradire" is one of +the "tre cose da morire." ...</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday, 3d.</i>—Went to the theater to rehearse.... In the evening +the house was good, and the play went off very well. I acted well, +in spite of my new dresses, which stuck out all round me +portentously, and almost filled the little stage. <a name="Page_524" id="Page_524" ></a><span class="pagenum">[524]</span>J—— L—— was +like a great pink bird, hopping about hither and thither, and +stopping to speak, as if it had been well tamed and taught. The +audience actually laughed and applauded, and I should think must +have gone home very much surprised and exhausted with the unwonted +exertion.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, 4th.</i>—Went to the theater to rehearse "Francis I." +After I got home, my mother told me she had determined to leave us +on Saturday, and go back to London with Sally Siddons; and I am +most thankful for this resolution.... How sad it will be in that +strange land beyond the sea, among those strange people, to whom we +are nothing but strangers! But this is foolish weakness; it must +be; and what a world of strength lies in those two little words!... +At the theater the house was very good, and I played very well....</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, 5th.</i>—After breakfast went to rehearse "The Gamester." +... In the evening the house was not good. My father acted +magnificently; I never played this part well, and am now gone off +in it, and play it worse than not well; besides, I cannot bully +that great, big man, Mr. Didear; it is manifestly absurd.</p> + +<p><i>Friday, 6th.</i>—To the theater to rehearse "Francis I." On my +return found Mr. Liston and his little girl waiting to ride with +me.... [This was the beginning of my acquaintance with the +celebrated surgeon Liston, who afterward became an intimate friend +of ours, and to whose great professional skill my father was +repeatedly indebted for relief under a most painful malady. He was +a son of Sir Robert Liston, and cousin of the celebrated comedian, +between whom and himself, however, there certainly was no family +likeness, Liston, the surgeon, being one of the handsomest persons +I ever saw. The last time I saw him has left a melancholy +impression on my mind of his fine face and noble figure. He had +been attending me professionally, but I had ceased to require his +care, and had not seen him for some time, when one morning walking, +according to my custom in summer, before seven o'clock, as I came +to the bridge over the Serpentine in Kensington Gardens, a horseman +crossing the bridge stopped by the iron railing, and, jumping off +his horse, came toward me. It was Liston, who inquired kindly after +my health, and, upon my not answering quite satisfactorily, he +said, "Ah! well, you are better than I am." I laughed +incredulously, as I looked at a magnificent figure leaning against +the great black horse he rode, and looking like a model of manly +vigor and beauty. But in less than a week from that day Liston died +of aneurism; and I suppose <a name="Page_525" id="Page_525" ></a><span class="pagenum">[525]</span>that when I met him he was well aware of +the death which had got him literally by the throat.]</p> + +<p><i>Saturday, 7th.</i>—Miserable day of parting! of tearing away and +wrenching asunder!... At eleven we were obliged to go to rehearsal, +and when we returned found my mother busy with her packing.... When +she was gone, I sat down beside my father with a book in my hand, +not reading, but listening to his stifled sobbing; and every now +and then, in spite of my determination not to do it, looking up to +see how far the ship had moved. (Our windows looked over the +Forth.) But the white column of steam was rising steadily from +close under Newhaven, and for upward of half an hour continued to +do so. I had resolved not to raise my eyes again from my book, when +a sudden exclamation from my father made me spring up, and I saw +the steamer had left the shore, and was moving fast toward +Inchkeith, the dark smoky wake that lingered behind it showing how +far it had already gone from us, and warning us how soon it would +be beyond the ken of our aching eyes.... The carriage was +announced, and with a heavy heart and aching head, I drove to the +theater.... The play was "Francis I.," for the first time. The +house was very fine; I acted abominably, but that was not much to +be wondered at. However, I always have acted this part of my own +vilely; the language is not natural—mere stilted declamation from +first to last, most fatiguing to the chest, and impossible for me +to do anything with, as it excites no emotion in me whatever....</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Edinburgh</span>, July 8, 1832.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I had just left my father at the window that overlooks the Forth, +watching my poor mother's ship sailing away to England, when I +received your letter; and it is impossible to imagine a sorer, +sadder heart than that with which I greeted it.... Thank you for +the pains you are taking about your picture for me; crammed with +occupation as my time is here, I would have done the same for you, +but that I think in Lawrence's print you have the best and likest +thing you can have of me.... I cannot tell you at what hour we +shall reach Liverpool, but it will be very early on Monday +morning.... I am glad you have not deferred sitting for your +picture till you came to Liverpool, for it would have encroached +much upon our time together. I remember when I returned from +abroad, a school-girl, I thought I had forgotten my mother's face. +This copy <a name="Page_526" id="Page_526" ></a><span class="pagenum">[526]</span>of yours will save me from that nonsensical morbid +feeling, and you will surely not forget mine.... You bid me, if +anything should go ill with me, summon you across the Atlantic. +Alas! dear H——, you forget that before a letter from that other +world can reach this, more than a month must have elapsed, and the +writer may no longer be in either. You say you hope I may return a +new being; and I have no doubt my health will be benefited, and my +spirits revived by change of external objects; but oh, how dreary +it all is now! You bid me cheer my father when my mother shall have +left us, without knowing that she is already gone. I make every +exertion that duty and affection can prompt; but, you know, it is +my nature rather to absorb the sorrow of others than to assist them +in throwing it off; and when one's own heart is all but frozen, one +knows not where to find warmth to impart to those who are shivering +with misery beside one.... I have left myself scarcely any room to +tell you of my present life. I work very hard, rehearsing every +morning and acting every night, and spending the intervening time +in long farewell rides round this most beautiful and beloved +Edinburgh. Mr. Combe says I am wearing myself out, body and mind; +but I am already looking better, and less thin, than when I left +London; and besides, I shall presently have a longer rest—holiday +I cannot call it—on board ship than I have had for the last three +years. We acted "Francis I." here last night, for the first time; +and I am sure that, mingled with the applause, I heard very +distinct hissing; whether addressed to the acting, which was some +of it execrable, or to the play itself, which I think quite +deserving of such a demonstration, I know not.... You know my +opinion of the piece; and as, with the exception of the two parts +of De Bourbon and the Friar, and not excepting my own, it really +was vilely acted, hissing did not appear to me an unnatural +proceeding, though perhaps, under the circumstances, not altogether +a courteous one on the part of the modern Athenians. I tell you +this, because what else have I to tell you, but that I am your ever +affectionate</p> + +<p class="signature">F. A. K.</p> + + +<p class="gap"><i>Tuesday, 10th.</i>—At half-past twelve rode out with Liston and his +daughter, Mr. Murray, and Allen (since Sir William, the celebrated +artist, friend, and painter, of Walter Scott and his family).... In +the evening, at the theater, the house was very full, and I acted +very well, though I was so tired that I could hardly stand, and +every bone in my body ached with <a name="Page_527" id="Page_527" ></a><span class="pagenum">[527]</span>my hard morning's ride. While I +was sitting in the greenroom, Mr. Wilson came in, and it warmed my +heart to see a Covent Garden face. He tells me Laporte is giving +concerts in the poor old playhouse: well, good luck attend him, +poor man (though I know it won't, for "there's nae luck about that +house, there's nae luck at a'"). Walter Scott has reached +Edinburgh, and starts for Abbotsford to-morrow: I am glad he has +come back to die in his own country, in his own home, surrounded by +the familiar objects his eyes have loved to look upon, and by the +hearts of his countrymen, and the prayers, the blessings, the +gratitude, and the love they owe him. All Europe will mourn his +death; and for years to come every man born on this soil will be +proud, for his sake, to call himself a Scotchman.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, 11th.</i>— ... At half-past twelve met Mr. Murray, Mr. +Allen, and Mr. Byrne.... As we started for our ride, and were +"cavalcading" leisurely along York Place, that most enchanting old +sweetheart of mine, Baron Hume, came out of a house. I rode toward +him, and he met me with his usual hearty, kind cordiality, and a +world of old-fashioned stately courtesy, ending our conference by +devoutly kissing the tip of my little finger, to the infinite +edification of my party, upon whose minds I duly impressed the vast +superiority of this respectful style of gallantry to the flippant, +easy familiarity of the present day. These old beaux beat the young +ones hollow in the theory of courtship, and it is only a pity that +their time for practice is over. Commend me to this bowing and +finger-kissing! it is at any rate more dignified than the nodding, +bobbing, and hand-shaking of the present fashion. The be-Madaming, +too, has in it something singularly pleasing to my taste; there's a +hoop and six yards of brocade in each of its two syllables.... At +the theater the play was "Francis I." I acted well, and the play +went off very well. Mr. Allen came and sat in the greenroom, +telling me all about Constantinople and the Crimea, and the +beautiful countries he has seen, and where his memory and his +wishes are forever wandering; a rather sad comment upon the perfect +vision of content his charming home at Laurieston had suggested to +me.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, 12th.</i>— ... At the theater the play was "The +Hunchback." The house was very good, and I acted very well. Dear +Mr. Allen came into the greenroom, and had a long gossip with me.</p> + +<p><i>Friday, 13th.</i>— ... Went with Mr. Combe to the Phrenological +Museum, and spent two hours listening to some very <a name="Page_528" id="Page_528" ></a><span class="pagenum">[528]</span>interesting +details on the anatomy of the brain, which certainly tended to make +the science more credible to my ignorance, though the general +theory has never appeared to me as impossible and extravagant as +some people think it. The insuperable point where I stick fast is a +doubt of the practically beneficial result which its general +acceptance would produce. I think they overrate the reforming power +of their system, though Mr. Combe's account of the numbers who +attend his lectures, and of the improvement of their bodily and +mental conditions which he has himself witnessed, must, of course, +make me feel diffident of my own judgment in the matter. Their own +experience can alone test the utility of their system, and whether +it does or does not answer their expectations. I thought of Hamlet +as I sat on the ground, with my arms and lap full of skulls. It is +curious enough to grasp the empty, worthless, unsightly case in +which once dwelt the thinking faculty of a man. One of the best +specimens of the human skull, it seems, is Raphael's; a cast of +whose head I held lovingly in my hands, wishing it had been the +very house where once abode that spirit of immortal beauty. [The +phrenological authorities were mistaken, it seems, in attributing +this skull to Raphael. I believe that it has been ascertained to be +that of his friend, the engraver, Marc Antonio.] At the theater the +play was "The Hunchback;" the house very good, and I played very +well.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday, 14th.</i>—My last day in Edinburgh for two years; and who +can tell for how many more? At eleven o'clock, Mr. Murray, Mr. +Allen, Mr. Byrne, and myself sallied forth on horseback toward the +Pentlands, having obtained half an hour's grace off dinner-time, in +order to get to Habbies How. We went out by the Links, and up steep +rises over a white and dusty road, with a flaring stone dyke on +each side, and neither tree nor bush to shelter us from the +scorching sunlight till we came to Woodhouseleigh, the haunted walk +of a white specter, who, it seems, was fond of the shade, for her +favorite promenade was an avenue overarched with the green arms of +noble old elm trees; and we blessed the welcome shelter of the +Ghost's Haunt.... A cloud fell over all our spirits as we rode away +from this enchanting spot, and Mr. Murray, pointing to the sprig of +heather I had put in my habit, said they would establish an Order +of Knighthood, of which the badge should be a heather spray, and +they three the members, and I the patroness; that they would meet +and drink my health on the 14th of July, and on my birthday, every +year till I re<a name="Page_529" id="Page_529" ></a><span class="pagenum">[529]</span>turned; and a solemn agreement was made by all +parties that whenever I did return and summoned my worthies, we +should again adjourn together to the glen in the Pentlands. When we +reached home, Mr. Allen, who cannot endure a formal parting, shook +hands with me and bade me good-by as I dismounted, as if we were to +ride again to-morrow. [And I never saw him again. Peace be with +him! He was a most amiable and charming companion, and during these +days of friendly intimacy, his conversation interested and +instructed me, and his poetical feeling of Nature, and placid, +unruffled serenity, added much to the pleasure of those delightful +rides.] ... At the theater the play was "The Provoked Husband," for +my benefit; the house was very fine, and I played pretty well. +After it was over, the audience shouted and clamored for my father, +who came and said a few words of our sorrow to leave their +beautiful city.... Mrs. Harry, Lizzie, and I were in my +dressing-room, crying in sad silence, and vainly endeavoring to +control our emotion. Presently my father came hurriedly in, and +folding them both in his arms, just uttered in a broken voice, +"Good-by! God bless you!" and I, embracing my dear friends for the +last time, followed him out of the room. It is not the time only +that must elapse before I can see her again, it is the terrible +distance, the slowness and uncertainty of communication; it is that +dreadful America.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, 19th, Liverpool.</i>— ... At eleven went to the theater +for rehearsal; it was very slovenly. I wonder what the performance +will be? In the evening to the theater; the play was "Francis I.," +and the house was very good, which was almost to be wondered at in +this plague-stricken city. [The cholera was raging in Liverpool.] I +was frightened, as I always am at a new part, even in my own play, +though glad enough to resign that odious dignity, the queen-mother. +[The part of Louisa of Savoy had been given to me when first the +piece was brought out at Covent Garden; I was now playing the +younger heroine, Françoise de Foix.] I played pretty well, though +there is nothing to be done with the part. She is perfectly +uninteresting and ineffective; but it is better for the cast of the +play that I should act her instead of Louisa. And when one can have +such a specimen of a queen as we had to-night, it would be a +thousand pities the audience should be put off with my inferior +views of royalty. Such bouncing, frowning, growling, and snarling +might have challenged a whole zoological garden full of wild beasts +to surpass. It's a comfort to see that it is possible to play that +part worse than I did.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_530" id="Page_530" ></a><span class="pagenum">[530]</span><i>Friday, 20th.</i>—Went to rehearsal.... Received a letter from +Lizzie, giving me an account of my dear old Newhaven fish-wife, +poor body! to whom I had sent a farewell present by her. I received +also a long copy of anonymous verses, in which I was rather +pathetically remonstrated with for seeking fame and fortune out of +my own country. The author is slightly mistaken; neither the love +of money nor notoriety would carry me away from England, but the +love of my father constrains me.... The American Consul and Mr. +Arnold called. After dinner I read Combe's "Constitution of Man," +which interested me very much, though it fails to convince me that +phrenology can alone bestow this insight into human nature. At the +theater "The School for Scandal;" I played pretty well, though the +actors were all dreadfully imperfect, and some of them so nervous +and quick, and some so nervous and slow, that it was hardly +possible to keep pace with them.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday, 21st.</i>—From Liverpool to Manchester. After all, this +Liverpool, with all its important wealth and industry, is a +dismal-looking place, a swarming world of dingy red houses and +dirty streets.... How well I remember the opening of this +railway!... They have placed a marble tablet in the side of the +road to commemorate the spot where poor Huskisson fell; I +remembered it by the pools of dark-green water that, as we passed +them then, made a dismal impression on me; they looked like stony +basins of verdigris. How glad I was to see Chatmoss—that +villainous, treacherous, ugly, useless bog—trenched and ditched in +process of draining and reclaiming, with the fair, holy, healthy +grain waving in bright green patches over the brown peaty soil! +Next to moral conversion, and the reclaiming to their noble uses +the perverted powers of human nature, there is nothing does one's +heart so much good as the sight of waste and barren land reclaimed +to the uses and wants of man; to see vegetation clothe the idle +space, and the cursed and profitless soil teeming with the means of +life and bringing forth abundant produce to requite the toil that +fertilized it; to see the wilderness crowned with bounteous +increase, and the blessing of God rising from the earth to reward +the labor of His creatures. It forcibly reminds one of all that is +left undone, and might be done, with that far more precious waste +land, those multitudes of our ignorant poor, whose minds and +spirits are as dark, as profitless, as barren, as dreary, and as +dangerous, as this wild bog was formerly, and who were never +ordained to live and die like so many human <a name="Page_531" id="Page_531" ></a><span class="pagenum">[531]</span>morasses.... In the +evening to the theater, which was crammed from the floor to the +ceiling; they are a pleasant audience, too, and make a delightful +quantity of sympathetic noise. I did not play well, which was a +pity and a shame, because they really deserved that one should do +so; but my coadjutors were too much for me.</p> + +<p><i>Sunday, 22d, Liverpool.</i>—I did not think there was such another +day in store for me as this. I thought all was past and over, and +had forgotten the last drop in the bitter cup.... The day was +bitter cold, and we were obliged to have a fire.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Liverpool</span>, July 22.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dear Mrs. Jameson</span>, +</p> + +<p>I fear you are either anxious or vexed, or perhaps both, about the +arrival of your books, and my non-acknowledgment of them. They +reached me in all safety, and but for the many occupations which +swallow up my time would have been duly receipted ere this. Thank +you very much for them, for they are very elegant outside, and the +dedication page, with which I should have been most ungracious to +find any fault. The little sketch on that leaf differs from the +design you had described to me some time ago, and I felt the full +meaning of the difference. I read through your preface all in a +breath; there are many parts of it which have often been matters of +discussion between us, and I believe you know how cordially I +coincide with most of the views expressed in it. The only point in +your preliminary chapter on which I do not agree with you is the +passage in which you say that humor is, of necessity and in its +very essence, vulgar. I differ entirely with you here. I think +humor is very often closely allied to poetry; not only a large +element in highly poetic minds, which surely refutes your position, +but kindred to the highest and deepest order of imagination, and +frequently eminently fanciful and graceful in its peculiar +manifestations. However, I cannot now make leisure to write about +this, but while I read it I scored the passage as one from which I +dissented. That, however, of course does not establish its fallacy; +but I think, had I time, I could convince you of it. I acted Juliet +on Wednesday, and read your analysis of it before doing so. Oh, +could you but have seen and heard my Romeo!... I am sure it is just +as well that an actress on the English stage at the present day +should not have too distinct a vision of the beings Shakespeare +intended to realize, or she might be induced, like the unfortunate +heroine of the song, to "hang herself in her garters." <a name="Page_532" id="Page_532" ></a><span class="pagenum">[532]</span>To be sure +there is always my expedient to resort to, of acting to a wooden +vase; you know I had one put upon my balcony, in "Romeo and +Juliet," at Covent Garden, to assist Mr. Abbott in drawing forth +the expression of my sentiments. I have been reading over Portia +to-day; she is still my dream of ladies, my pearl of womanhood.... +I must close this letter, for I have many more to write to-night, +and it is already late. Once more, thank you very much for your +book, and believe me,</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Ever yours very truly,</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p> + + +<p class="gap"><i>August 1st.</i>—Sailed for America.</p></div> + +<p>The book referred to in this letter was Mrs. Jameson's "Analysis of +Shakespeare's Female Characters," which she very kindly dedicated to me. +The etching in the title-page was changed from the one she at first +intended to have put in it, and represented a female figure in an +attitude of despondency, sitting by the sea, and watching a ship sailing +toward the setting sun; a design which I know she meant to have +reference to my departure. I believe she subsequently changed it again +to the one she had first executed, and which was of a less personal +significance.... I exchanged no more letters with my friend Miss S——, +who joined me at Liverpool, and remained with me till I sailed for +America.... "A trip," as it is now called, to Europe or America, is one +of the commonest of experiences, involving, apparently, so little +danger, difficulty, or delay, that the feelings with which I made my +first voyage across the Atlantic must seem almost incomprehensible to +the pleasure-seeking or business-absorbed crowds who throng the great +watery highway between the two continents.</p> + +<p>But when I first went to America, steam had not shortened the passage of +that formidable barrier between world and world. A month, and not a +week, was the shortest and most favorable voyage that could be looked +for. Few men, and hardly any women, undertook it as a mere matter of +pleasure or curiosity; and though affairs of importance, of course, drew +people from one shore to the other, and the stream of emigration had +already set steadily westward, American and European tourists had not +begun to cross each other by thousands on the high seas in search of +health or amusement.</p> + +<p>I was leaving my mother, my brothers and sister, my friends and my +country, for two years, and could only hear from them <a name="Page_533" id="Page_533" ></a><span class="pagenum">[533]</span>at monthly +intervals. I was going to work very hard, in a distasteful vocation, +among strangers, from whom I had no right to expect the invariable +kindness and indulgence my own people had favored me with. My spirits +were depressed by my father's troubled fortunes, and I had just received +the first sharp, smarting strokes in the battle of life; those gashes +from which poor "unbruised youth," in its infinite self-compassion, +fancies its very life-blood must all pour away; little imagining under +what gangrened, festering wounds brave life will still hold on its way, +and urge to the hopeless end its warfare with unconquerable sorrow. +There is nothing more pathetic than the terrified impatience of youth +under its first experience of grief, and its vehement appeal of "Behold, +and see if any sorrow be like unto my sorrow!" to the patient adepts in +suffering such as it has not yet begun to conceive of. Orlando's +adjuration to the exiled duke in "As You Like It," and the wise Prince's +reply, seem to me one of the most exquisite illustrations of the +comparative griefs of youth and age.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Off Sandy Hook</span>, Monday, September 5.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>We are within three hours' sail of New York, having greeted the +first corner of Long Island (the first land we saw) yesterday +morning; but we are becalmed, and the sun shines so bright, and the +air is so warm and breathless, that we seem to have every chance of +lying here for the next—Heaven knows how long! In point of time, +you see, our voyage has been very prosperous, and I am surprised +that we have made such good progress, for the weather has been +squally, with constant head-winds. I do not think we have had, in +all, six days of fair wind, so that we have no reason whatever to +complain of our advance, having come thus far in thirty-two days. +You bade me write to you by ships passing us, but though we have +encountered several bound eastward, we only hailed them without +lying to; notwithstanding which, about a fortnight ago, on hearing +that a vessel was about to pass us, I wrote you a scrawl, which +none but you could have made out (so the fishes won't profit much +by it), and a kind fellow-passenger undertook to throw it from our +ship to the other as it passed us. She came alongside very rapidly, +and though he flung with great force and good aim, the distance was +too great, and my poor little missive fell into the black sea +within twenty feet of its destination. I could not help crying to +think that those words from my heart, that would have gladdened +yours, <a name="Page_534" id="Page_534" ></a><span class="pagenum">[534]</span>should go down into that cold, inky water.... I pray to God +that we may return to England, but I am possessed with a dread that +I never shall....</p> + +<p>I have been called away from this letter by one of those little +incidents which Heaven in its mercy sends to break the monotony of +a sea-voyage. Ever since daybreak this morning an English brig has +been standing at a considerable distance behind us. About an hour +ago we went on deck to watch the approach of a boat which they were +sending off in our direction. The distance was about five miles, +and the men had a hard pull in the broiling heat. When they came on +board, you should have seen how we all clustered about them. The +ship was a merchantman from Bristol, bound to New York; she had +been out eleven weeks, her provisions were beginning to run short, +and the crew was on allowance. Our captain, who is a gentleman, +furnished them with flour, tea, sugar, porter, cold tongue, ham, +eggs, etc., etc. The men remained about half an hour on board, and +as they were remanning their boat we saw a whole cargo of eatables +carried to it from our steerage passengers. You know that these are +always poor people, who are often barely supplied themselves with +necessaries for their voyage. The poor are almost invariably kind +and compassionate to one another, and Gaffer Gray is half right +when he says—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The poor man alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he hears the poor moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of his morsel one morsel will give."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>They (the men from the brig) gave us news from Halifax, where they +had put in. The cholera had been in Boston, Philadelphia, +Baltimore, and New York; the latter town was almost deserted, and +the people flying in numbers from the others. This was rather bad +news to us, who were going thither to find audiences (if possible +not few, whether fit or not), but it was awful to such as were +going back to their homes and families. I looked at the anxious +faces gathered round our informer, and thought how the poor hearts +were flying, in terrible anticipation of the worst, to the nests +where they had left their dear ones, and eagerly counting every +precious head in the homes over which so black a cloud of doom had +gathered in their absence.... My father, though a bad sailor, and +suffering occasionally a good deal, has, upon the whole, borne the +voyage well. Poor dear Dall has been the greatest wretch on board; +she has been perfectly miserable the whole time. It has made me +very unhappy, for she has come <a name="Page_535" id="Page_535" ></a><span class="pagenum">[535]</span>away from those she loves very +dearly on my account, and I cannot but feel sad to see that most +excellent creature now, in what should be the quiet time of her +life, leaving home and all its accustomed ways, habits, and +comforts, and dear A——, who is her darling, to come wandering to +the ends of the earth after me.... These distant and prolonged +separations seem like foretastes of death.... We have seen an +American sun, and an American moon, and American stars, and we +think they "get up these things better than we do." We have had +several fresh squalls, and one heavy gale; we have shipped sundry +seas; we have had rat-hunting and harpooning of porpoises; we have +caught several hake and dogfish.</p> + +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">New York, America</span>, Wednesday, September 5, 1832. +</p> + +<p>Here we really are, and perhaps you, who are not here, will believe +it more readily than I who am, and to whom it seems an impossible +kind of dream from which I must surely presently wake. We made New +York harbor Monday night at sunset, and cast anchor at twelve +o'clock off Staten Island, where we lay till yesterday morning at +half-past nine, when a steamboat came alongside to take the +passengers to shore. A thick fog covered the shores, and the rain +poured in torrents; but had the weather been more favorable, I +should have seen nothing of our approach to the city, for I was +crying bitterly. The town, as we drove through it from the landing, +struck me as foreign in its appearance—continental, I mean; trees +are mixed very prettily with the houses, which are painted of +various colors, and have green blinds on the outside, giving an +idea of coolness and shade.</p> + +<p>The sunshine is glorious, and the air soft and temperate; our hotel +is pleasantly situated, and our rooms are gay and large. The town, +as I see it from our windows, reminds me a little of Paris. +Yesterday evening the trees and lighted shop-windows and brilliant +moonlight were like a suggestion of the Boulevards; it is very gay, +and rather like a fair.</p> + +<p>The cholera has been very bad, but it is subsiding, and the people +are returning to town. We shall begin our work in about ten days. I +have not told you half I could say, but foolscap will contain no +more. God bless you, dear!</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Affectionately yours,</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p></div> + +<p>The foreboding with which I left my own country was justi<a name="Page_536" id="Page_536" ></a><span class="pagenum">[536]</span>fied by the +event. My dear aunt died, and I married, in America; and neither of us +ever had a home again in England.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">New York</span>, September 16, 1832.</p><p +class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>What shall I say to you? First of all, pray don't forget me, don't +be altered when I see you again, don't die before I come back, +don't die if I never come back.... You cannot imagine how strange +the comparisons people here are perpetually making between this +wonderful sapling of theirs and our old oak seem to me.... My +father, thank God, is wonderfully improved in health, looks, and +spirits; the fine, clear, warm (hot it should be called) atmosphere +agrees with him, and the release from the cares and anxieties of +that troublesome estate of his in St. Giles' will, I am sure, be of +the greatest service to him. He begins his work to-morrow night +with Hamlet, and on Tuesday I act Bianca. It is thought expedient +that we should act singly the two first nights, and then make a +"constellation." Dall is in despair because I am to be discovered +instead of coming on (a thing actors deprecate, because they do not +receive their salvo of entrance applause), and also because I am +not seen at first in what she thinks a becoming dress. For my part, +I am rather glad of this decision, for besides Bianca's being one +of my best parts, the play, as the faculty have mangled it, is such +a complete monologue that I am less at the mercy of my coadjutors +than in any other piece I play in....</p> + +<p>Dall is very well, very hot, and very mosquito-bitten. The heat +seems to me almost intolerable, though it is here considered mild +autumn weather: the mornings and evenings are, it is true, +generally freshened with a cool delicious air, which is at this +moment blowing all my pens and paper away, and compensating us for +our midday's broiling. I do nothing but drink iced lemonade, and +eat peaches and sliced melon, in spite of the cholera.</p> + +<p>Baths are a much cheaper and commoner luxury (necessary) in the +hotels here than with us; a great satisfaction to me, who hope in +heaven, if I ever get there, to have plenty of water to wash in, +and, of course, it will all be soft rainwater there. What a +blessing! On board ship we were not stinted in that respect, but +had as much water as we desired for external as well as internal +purposes.</p> + +<p>There are no water-pipes or cisterns in this city such as we have, +but men go about as they do in Paris, with huge water-<a name="Page_537" id="Page_537" ></a><span class="pagenum">[537]</span>butts, +supplying each house daily; for although a broad river (so called) +runs on each side of this water-walled city, the one—the East +River—is merely an arm of the sea; and the Hudson receives the +salt tide-water, and is rendered brackish and unfit for washing or +cooking purposes far beyond the city. There are fine springs, and a +full fresh-water stream, at a distance of some miles; but the +municipality is not very rich, and is economical and careful of the +public money, and many improvements which might have been expected +to have been effected here long ago are halting in their advance, +leaving New York ill paved, ill lighted, and indifferently supplied +with a good many necessaries and luxuries of modern civilization.</p></div> + +<p>[This was fifty-six years ago. Times are altered since this letter was +written. New York is neither ill paved nor ill lighted; the municipality +is rich, but neither economical, careful, nor honest, in dealing with +the public moneys. The rapid spread of superficial civilization and +accumulation of easily-got wealth, together with incessant communication +with Europe, have made of the great cities of the New World, centres of +an imperfect but extreme luxury, vying with, and in some respects going +beyond, all that London or Paris presents for the indulgence of tastes +pampered by the oldest civilization of Europe.</p> + +<p>One day, after the Croton water had been brought into New York, I was +sitting with the venerable Chancellor Kent at the window of his house in +Union Square, and, pointing to the fountain that sprang up in the midst +of the inclosure, he said, "When I was a boy, much more than half a +century ago, I used to go to the Croton water, and paddle, and fish, and +bathe, and swim, and loiter my time away in the summer days. I cannot go +out there any more for any of these pleasant purposes, but the Croton +water has come here to me." What a ballad Schiller or Goethe would have +made of that! That morning visit to Chancellor Kent has left that pretty +picture in my mind, and the recollection of his last words as he shook +hands with me: "Ay, madam, the secret of life is always to have +excitement enough, and never too much." But he did not give me the +secret of that secret.]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>There are, on an average, half a dozen fires in various parts of +the town every night—I mean houses on fire. The sons of all the +gentlemen here are volunteer engineers and firemen, and great is +the delight they take in tearing up and down the streets, +accompanied by red lights, speaking trumpets, and a rushing, +roaring escort of running amateur extinguishers, who make night +hideous with their bawling and bellowing. This <a name="Page_538" id="Page_538" ></a><span class="pagenum">[538]</span>evening as I was +observing that we had had no fire to-day, Dall said the weather was +so hot, she thought they must have left off fires for the season.</p> + +<p>Speaking of carriages and the devices on the panels of them here, +which appear to be rather fancy pieces than heraldic bearings, my +father said, "I wonder what they do for arms." "Use legs," said +Dall immediately, not at all bethinking herself how ancient a +device on the shield of the Island of Man the three legs were, or +knowing how much more ancient on the coins of Crotona, I think, or +some other of the Magna Grecian colonies.</p> + +<p>The hours which prevail here are those of our shop-keeping +population; they rise and go to business very early, dine at three, +which indeed is considered late, take tea at five, and supper at +nine, which seems to us very primitive.... The women here are, +generally speaking, very pretty little creatures, with a great deal +of freshness and brilliancy; they dress in the extreme of the +French fashion, and, I suppose from some unfavorable influence of +the climate, they lose their beauty prematurely—they become +full-blown very early, and their bloom is extremely evanescent; +they fade almost suddenly.... There seems to be a great deal of +consumption here. The climate is as capricious as ours, with this +additional disadvantage, that the extremes of heat and cold are +much more intense, and the transitions much more violent, the +temperature varying occasionally as much as thirty degrees in the +twenty-four hours. I have just left off writing for five minutes to +watch the lightning, which is dancing in a fiery ring all round the +horizon—summer lightning, no thunder, although the flashes are +strong and vivid....</p> + +<p>We have had such a tremendous storm—really gorgeous, grand, and +awful; lightning that stretched from side to side of the sky, +making a blaze like daylight for several seconds at a time. The +mere reflection of it on the ground was more than the eye could +endure; great forked ribbons of fire darting into the very bosom of +the city and its crowded dwellings, or zigzagging through the air +to an accompaniment of short, sharp, crackling thunder, succeeded +by endless, deep, full-toned rolls that made the whole air shake +and vibrate with the heavy concussion; pelting and pouring rain, a +perfect tornado of wind. Heaven and earth are all, while I write, +one livid, violet-colored flame, and the thunder resounds through +the wild frenzy of the elements like the voice of "the Ruler of the +spirits." My eyes ache with the incessant glare, and I must <a name="Page_539" id="Page_539" ></a><span class="pagenum">[539]</span>close +my letter, for it is past eleven o'clock, and I have to rehearse +to-morrow morning.... I have seen Mr. Wallack since our arrival, +whom I never saw in England, either on or off the stage. I went the +other night to see him in one of his favorite pieces, "The +Rent-Day," which made me cry dreadfully, but chiefly, I believe, +because, when they are ruined, he asks his wife if she will go with +him to America. You see I am taking to play-going in my old age. +The theater is very pretty, of the best possible dimensions for me, +and tolerably good for the voice. We leave this place for +Philadelphia on the 10th of October, and remain there a fortnight, +and then go on to Boston....</p> + +<p>Last Thursday we crossed the Hudson in one of the steamers +constantly plying between the opposite shores and New York, and +took a delightful walk along the New Jersey shore to a place called +Hoboken, famous once as a dueling-ground, now the favorite resort +of a pacific society of <i>bon vivants</i>, who meet once a week to eat +turtle, or, as it is expressed on their cards of invitation, for +"spoon exercise." The distance from our landing-point to the place +where these meetings are held is about five miles, a charming walk +through a strip of forest-ground, which crowns the banks of the +river, gradually rising to a considerable height above it. We were +delighted with the vivid, various, and strange foliage of the +trees, the magnificent river, broad and blue as a lake, with its +high and richly wooded shore, and the sparkling, glittering town +opposite. We looked down to the Narrows, the defile through which +the waters of this noble estuary reach the Atlantic, and between +whose rocky walls two or three ships stood out against the +brilliant sky. The ebbing tide plashed on the rocks far below us, +and the warm grass through which we walked was alive with +grasshoppers, whose scarlet wings, suddenly unfolded when they +flew, made me take them for some strange species of butterfly. It +was all indescribably bright and joyous-looking, and the air of a +transparent clearness that was one of the most striking +characteristics of the whole scene, and one of the most +delightful.... [In discussing the relative merits of England and +America, Dr. Channing once said to me, "The earth is yours, but the +heavens are ours;" and I quite agree with him. I have never seen a +sky comparable, for splendor of color or translucent purity, to +that of the Northern States.]</p> + +<p>I have been reading your favorite book, "Salmonia." ... I am rather +surprised at your liking it so very much, because, though the +descriptions are beautiful, and the natural history <a name="Page_540" id="Page_540" ></a><span class="pagenum">[540]</span>interesting, +and the philosophical and moral reflections scattered through it +delightful, yet there is so much that is purely technical about +fishing and its processes, and addressed only to the hook-and-line +fraternity, that I should not have thought it calculated to charm +you so greatly. However, you may have some associations connected +with it; liking is a very complex and many-motived thing....</p> + +<p>We went through the fish and fruit markets the other day; +unfortunately it was rather late in the morning, and of course the +glory of the market was over, but yet there remained enough to +enchant us, with their abundant plenteousness of good things. The +fruit-market was beautiful; fruit-baskets half as high as I am, +placed in rows of a dozen, filled with peaches, and painted of a +bright vermilion color, which throws a ruddy becoming tint over the +downy fruit. It looked like something in the "Arabian Nights;" +heaps, literally heaps of melons, apples, pears, and wild grapes, +in the greatest profusion. I was enchanted with the beautiful +forms, bright colors, and fragrant smell, but I saw no flowers, and +I have seen hardly any since I have been here, which is rather a +grief to me....</p> + +<p>Americans are the most extravagant people in the world, and flowers +are among them objects of the most lavish expenditure. The prices +paid for nosegays, wreaths, baskets, and devices of every sort of +hot-house plants, are incredible to any reasonable mind. At parties +and balls ladies are laden with costly nosegays which will not even +survive the evening's fatigue of carrying them. Dinner and luncheon +parties are adorned, not only with masses of exquisite bloom as +table ornaments, but by every lady's plate a magnificent nosegay of +hot-house flowers is placed; and I knew a lady who, wishing to +adorn her ballroom with rather more than usual floral magnificence, +had it hung round with garlands of white camellias and myosotis.</p> + +<p>At the theater enormously expensive nosegays and huge baskets of +forced flowers are handed to the favorite performers from the front +of the house, till the ceremony becomes embarrassing, and almost +ridiculous for the object of the demonstration. The churches at +certain festivals are hung with draperies of costly hot-house +flowers; the communion-tables heaped with them. Weddings, of +course, are natural occasions for that species of ornament, but in +America funerals are as flowery as marriage-feasts; and I have seen +there in mid-winter, with the thermometer at fifteen degrees below +zero, large crosses, and hearts, and wreaths, made entirely of +rosebuds and lilies of the valley, <a name="Page_541" id="Page_541" ></a><span class="pagenum">[541]</span>as part of the solemnities of a +burial service; and a young girl who died in the flowerless season +was not only shrouded in blossoms, but as her coffin was carried to +the bosom of the wintry earth, a white pall of the finest material +was thrown over it, with a great cross of double forced violets, +almost the length of the coffin, laid on it. I have had as many as +a dozen huge baskets of camellias, violets, orange-flower, and +tuberose, at one time, in my room; perishable tokens of anonymous +public and private favor, the cost of which used to fill me with +dismay: and on one occasion a table of magnificent hot-house +flowers was sent to me, of such dimensions that both sides of the +street door had to be opened to admit it. When I have deplored the +inordinate amount of money lavished upon that which could only +impart pleasure for so brief a time, I have been answered, but not +converted from my feeling of disapprobation and regret, that the +gardeners profited by this wild extravagance. In New York I have +known a guinea paid for a gentleman's button-hole rosebud, and +three guineas for half a dozen sprays of lily of the valley.</p> + +<p>Good-by, my dearest H——. I pray for you morning and night. Is not +that thinking of you, and loving you as best I can?</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Your affectionate</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p> + + +<p class="salutation" style="margin-top: 2em;"> +<span class="smcap">Dearest H——</span>,<br /> +</p> + +<p>... We are all pretty well, but all but devoured by multitudinous +and multivarious beasts of prey—birds, I suppose they are: +mosquitoes, ants, and flies, by day; and flies, fleas, and worse, +by night. The plagues of Egypt were a joke to it. We spend our +lives in murdering hecatombs of creeping and jumping things, and +vehemently slapping our own faces with intent to kill the flying +ones that incessantly buzz about one. It is rather a deplorable +existence, and reminds me of one of the most unpleasant circles in +Dante's "Hell," which I don't think could have been much worse. My +father began his work on Monday last with Hamlet. Dall and I went +into a private box to see him; he acted admirably, and looked +wonderfully young and handsome. The house was crammed, and the +audience, we were assured, was enthusiastic beyond all precedent.</p> + +<p>On Tuesday I came out in Bianca; I was rather glad they had +appointed that part for my first, because it is one of my best; but +had not the genius of theatrical management made such a mere +monologue of the play as it has, I verily believe I should have +been <a name="Page_542" id="Page_542" ></a><span class="pagenum">[542]</span>"swamped" by my helpmate. My Fazio was an unhappy man who +played Romeo once with me in London, and failed utterly: moreover, +he had studied this part in a hurry, it seems, and did not know +three words of it, and was, besides, too frightened to profit by my +prompting. The only thing that seemed to occur to him was to go +down on his knees, which he did every five minutes. Once when I was +on mine, he dropped down suddenly exactly opposite to me, and there +we were, looking for all the world like one of those pious conjugal +<i>vis-à-vis</i> that adorn antique tombs in our cathedrals. It really +was exceedingly absurd. But I looked and acted well, and the play +was very successful.... I was not nervous for my first night, till +my unhappy partner made me so. My dislike to the stage would really +render me indifferent to my own success, but that I am working for +my livelihood; my bread depends upon success, and that is a +realistic, if not an artistic, view of the case, of which I +acknowledge the importance....</p> + +<p>Absolute and uncompromising vulgarity is really not very +objectionable; it is rather refreshing, indeed, for it is simple, +and, in that respect, rare. Vulgarity allied to pretension and the +affectation of fine manners is the only real vulgarity, and is an +intolerable thing. The plain rusticity, or even coarseness, of what +are called the lower classes, is infinitely preferable to the +assumption of <i>gentility</i> of those a little above them in the +social scale. The artisan, or day-laborer, or common workman, is +apt to be a gentleman, compared with a certain well-to-do small +shopkeeper....</p> + +<p>On Thursday, when I went to rehearse "Romeo and Juliet," I found +that the unfortunate Mr. Keppel was, by general desire, taken out +of Romeo, which my father was therefore called upon, for the first +time, to act with me. I was vexed at this every way. I was sorry +for the poor player, whose part, of course, was money to him; and +sorry for my father, who has the greatest objection to playing +Romeo, for which his age, of course, disqualifies him, however much +his excellent acting may tend to make one forget it; and I was +sorry for the public, who lost his admirable Mercutio, which I do +not think they were compensated for by his taking the other +part....</p> + +<p>The steward of our ship, a black—a very intelligent, obliging, +respectable servant—came here the other morning to ask my father +for an order, at the same time adding that it must be for the +gallery, as people of color were not allowed to go into any other +part of the theater. Qu'en dis-tu? The prejudice <a name="Page_543" id="Page_543" ></a><span class="pagenum">[543]</span>against these +unfortunate people is, of course, incomprehensible to us. On board +ship, after giving that same man some trouble, Dall poured him out +a glass of wine, when we were having our dinner, whereupon the +captain looked at her with utter amazement, and I thought some +little contempt, and said, "Ah! one can tell by that that you are +not an American;" which sort of thing makes one feel rather glad +that one is not.</p></div> + +<p>[This was in 1832, when slavery literally governed the United States. In +1874, when the Civil War had washed out slavery with the blood of free +men, the prejudice engendered by it governed them still to the following +degree. Going to the theater in Philadelphia one night, I desired my +servant, a perfectly respectable and decorous colored man, to go into +the house and see the performance. This, however, he did not succeed in +doing, being informed at all the entrance doors that persons of color +were not admitted to any part of the theater. At this same time, more +than half the State legislature of South Carolina were blacks. Moreover, +at this same time, colored children were not received into the public +schools of Philadelphia, though colored citizens were eligible, and in +some cases acted as members of the board of management of these very +schools. I talked of this outrageous inconsistent prejudice with some of +my friends; among others, the editor of a popular paper. They were all +loud in their condemnation of the state of things, but strongly of +opinion that to move at all in the matter would be highly inopportune +and injudicious. Time, they said, would settle all these questions; and, +without doubt, it will. Charles Sumner, who thought Time could afford to +have his elbow jogged about them, had just gone to his grave, leaving, +unfortunately, incomplete his bill of rights in behalf of the colored +citizens of the United States.</p> + +<p>My servant was a citizen of the United States, having a vote, when he +was turned from the theater door as a person of color; and negroes had +been elected as Members of Congress at that very time. Strangely enough, +Philadelphia, once the seat of enthusiastic and self-devoted Quaker +abolitionism, the home of that noble and admirable woman, Lucretia Mott, +who stood heroically in its vanguard, is now one of the strongholds of +the most illiberal prejudice against the blacks.]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>On Friday we acted "The School for Scandal." Our houses have been +very fine indeed, in spite of the intolerable heat of the +weather.... My ill-starred Fazio of Thursday night is making a +terrible stir in the papers, appealing to the public, and writing +long letters about his having merely <a name="Page_544" id="Page_544" ></a><span class="pagenum">[544]</span>studied the part to +accommodate me. "Hard case—unjust partiality—superior influence," +etc., etc.—in short, an attempt at a little cabal, the effect of +which is that he has obtained leave to appear again to-morrow night +in Jaffier to my Belvidera. The poor man is under a strong mental +delusion, he cannot act in the least; however, we shall see what he +will do with "Venice Preserved." ...</p> + +<p>Yesterday evening we dined with some English people who are staying +in this hotel, and met Dr. Wainwright, rector of the most +"fashionable" church in New York; a very agreeable, good, and +clever man, who expressed great delight at having an opportunity of +meeting us in private, as his congregation are so strait-laced that +he can neither call upon us nor invite us to his house, much less +set his foot in the theater. The probable consequence of any of +these enormities, it seems, would be deserted pews next Sunday, and +perhaps eventually the forced resignation of his cure of souls. +This is rather narrow minded, I think, for this free and +enlightened country. Think of my mother's dear old friend, Dr. +Hughes, and Milman, and Harness, and Dyce, and all our excellent +reverend friends and intimate acquaintance....</p> + +<p>To-morrow we act "Venice Preserved," on Tuesday "Much Ado about +Nothing," Wednesday is a holiday, on Thursday, for my benefit, "The +Stranger," and on Friday "The Hunchback." On the 10th of next month +we act in Philadelphia, where we shall remain for a fortnight, and +then return here for a fortnight, after which we go on to Boston. +God bless you, dear! It is past twelve at night, and I have a +ten-o'clock rehearsal to-morrow morning.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Ever your affectionate</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p></div> + +<p class="center gap"><span class="smcap">Part of Letter to Mrs. Jameson</span>.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"><span class="smcap">New York</span>, September 30, 1832.</p> + +<p>I am not sure that, upon the whole, our acting is not rather too +quiet—tame, I suppose they would call it—for our present public. +Ranting and raving in tragedy, and shrieks of unmeaning laughter in +comedy, are not, you know, precisely our style, and I am afraid our +audiences here may think us flat. I was informed by a friend of +mine who heard the remark, that one gentleman observed to another, +after seeing my father in "Venice Preserved," "Lord bless you! it's +nothing to Cooper's acting—nothing! Why, I've seen the +perspiration roll down his face like water when he played Pierre! +You didn't <a name="Page_545" id="Page_545" ></a><span class="pagenum">[545]</span>see Mr. Kemble put himself to half such pains!" Which +reminds me of the Frenchwoman's commendation to her neighbor of a +performance of Dupré, the great Paris tenor of his day: "Ah! ce +pauvre cher M. Dupré! ce brave homme! quel mal il se donne pour +chanter cela! Regardez donc, madame, il est tout en sueur!" But +this order of criticism, of course, may be met with anywhere; and +the stamp-and-stare-and-start-and-scream-school has had its +admirers all the world over since the days of Hamlet the Dane.</p> + +<p>I have not seen much of either places or people yet.... This city +is picturesque and foreign-looking; trees are much intermixed with +the houses, among them a great many fine willows, and these, +together with the various colors of the houses, and the +irregularity of the streets and buildings, form constantly "little +bits" that would gladden the eye of a painter. The sky here is +beautiful; I find in it what you have seen in Italy, and I only in +Angerstein's Gallery, the orange sunsets of Claude Lorraine.</p> + +<p>We leave New York for Philadelphia after next week, and shall +remain there three weeks.</p> + +<p>I have read and noted much of your pretty book. There are one or +two points which shall "serve for sweet discourses" in our time to +come. I find great satisfaction in our discussions, for though I +may not often confess to being convinced by your arguments in our +differences (does any one ever do so?), I derive so much +information from them, that they are as profitable as pleasant to +me. Are you going to be busy with your pen soon again? Write me how +the world is going on yonder, and believe me ever truly yours,</p> + +<p class="signature">F. A. K.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">New York</span>, September 30, 1832.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>... Perhaps, as you say, it is morbid to dwell as I do upon the +unreality of acting, because its tangible reality makes its +appearance duly every morning with the "returns" of the preceding +night; but I am not sure that it is morbid to consider wants +exaggerated and necessities unreal which render insufficient +earnings that would be ample for any one's real need. A livelihood, +of course, we could make in England.... You speak of all the +various strange things I am to see, and the amount of knowledge I +shall involuntarily acquire, by this residence in America; but you +know I am what Dr. Johnson would have considered disgracefully +"incurious," <a name="Page_546" id="Page_546" ></a><span class="pagenum">[546]</span>and the lazy intellectual indifference which induced +me to live in London by the very spring of the fountain of +knowledge without so much as stooping my lips to it, prevails with +me here.</p></div> + +<p>[Our house in Great Russell Street, which was the last at the corner of +Montague Place, adjoined the British Museum, and has since been taken +into, or removed for (I don't know which), the new buildings of that +institution. Our friend Panizzi, the learned librarian, lived in the +house that stood where ours, formerly my uncle's, did. While we were +still living there, however, I was allowed a privileged entrance at all +times to the library, and am ashamed to think how seldom I availed +myself of so great a favor.]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Then, too, my profession occupies nearly the whole of my time; I +have rehearsals every day, and act four times a week; my +journalizing takes up a good deal of my leisure. Walking in the +heat we still have here fatigues me and hurts my feet very much, +especially when I have to stand at the theater all the evening. +Although I have been here a month, I have seen but little either of +places or people; the latter, you know, I nowhere affect, and my +distaste for the society of strangers must, of course, interfere +with my deriving information from them. Still, as you say, I must +inevitably see and learn much that is new to me, and I take +pleasure in the hope that when I return to you I shall be less +distressingly ignorant than you must often have found me....</p> + +<p>I am very sorry my brother Henry and his men are going to be sent +upon so odious an errand as tithe-collecting must be in Ireland. I +trust in God he may meet with no mischief while fulfilling his +duty; I should be both to think of that comely-looking young thing +bruised or broken, maimed or murdered. I hardly think your savage +Irishers would have the heart to hurt him, he looks so like, what +indeed he is, a mere boy; but then, to be sure, his errand is not +one to recommend him to their mercy.</p> + +<p>I have read Bryant's poetry, and like it very much. The general +spirit of it is admirable; it is all wholesome poetry, and some of +it is very beautiful.</p> + +<p>I am going to get Graham's "History of the United States," and +Smith's "History of Virginia," to beguile my journey to +Philadelphia with. I can't fancy a savage woman marrying a +civilized man.... I suppose love might bring harmony out of the +discords of natures so dissimilar, but I think if I had been a wild +she-American, I should not have been tamed by <a name="Page_547" id="Page_547" ></a><span class="pagenum">[547]</span>one of the invading +race, my hunters. Pocahontas thought differently....</p> + +<p>Are you acquainted with any of Daniel Webster's speeches? They are +very fine, eloquent, and powerful; and one that he delivered upon +the commemoration of the landing of the English exiles at Plymouth, +in many parts, magnificent. I was profoundly affected by it when my +father read it to us on board ship....</p> + +<p>Bad as your mice, of which you complain so bitterly, may be, they +are civilized Christian creatures compared with the heathen swarms +with which we wage war incessantly here. Every evening, as soon as +the sun sets, clouds of mosquitoes begin their war-dance round us; +their sting is most venomous, and as my patience is not even +skin-deep, I tear myself like a maniac, and then, instead of oil, +pour aromatic vinegar into my wounds, and a very pretty species of +torture is produced by that means, I assure you. Besides these +winged devils, we have swarms of flies, which also bite and sting, +with a venomous rancor of which I should have thought their +frivolity incapable. Besides these, every cupboard and drawer in +our rooms is full of moths. Besides these, we have an army of +cantankerous fleas quartered upon us. Besides these, we have one +particular closet where we keep—our bugs, and where for the most +part, I am truly thankful to say, they keep themselves. Besides +these, we have two or three ants' nests in our bedroom, and +everything we look upon seems but a moving mass of these red, +long-legged, but always exemplary insects. These fellow-creatures +make one's life not worth much having, and I do nothing all day +long but sing the famous entomological chorus in "Faust;" and if +this goes on much longer, I feel as if I should take to buzzing. Do +you know that it is hard upon three o'clock in the morning? I must +leave off and go to bed, for I rehearse Constance to-morrow at +eleven, and act her to-morrow night. On Friday I act Bizarre in +"The Inconstant," and think I shall find it great fun.... God bless +you, dearest H——.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Ever your affectionate</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Mansion House, Philadelphia</span>, October 10, 1832.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>Do not let the date of this make any alteration in your way of +addressing your letters, which must still be "Park Theater, New +York;" for before this reaches you we shall prob<a name="Page_548" id="Page_548" ></a><span class="pagenum">[548]</span>ably have returned +thither; but I date particularly that you may follow us with your +mind's legs, and know where to find us. My dearest H——, in spite +of an often heavy heart, and my distaste for my present +surroundings, I have reason to be most grateful, and I trust I am +so, for the benefits which we have already derived from a visit to +this far world beyond the sea. The first and greatest of these is +the wonderful improvement in my dear father's health. He looks full +ten years younger than when last you saw him, and besides enjoying +better spirits from the absence of the many cares and anxieties and +vexations that weighed upon him daily in England, he says that he +is conscious since he came away of a great increase of absolute +muscular strength and vigor; and when he said this, I felt that my +share of the unpleasant duty of coming hither was already amply +repaid.... We have finished our first engagement at New York, which +was for twelve nights, and have every reason to be satisfied with +our financial, as well as professional, success. Living here is not +as cheap as we had been led to expect, but our earnings are very +considerable, and as we labor for these, it is matter of rejoicing +that we labor so satisfactorily.</p> + +<p>Dall is very well, except the nuisance of a bad cold. I am very +well, without exception. The only unpleasant effect I feel from +this climate is a constant tendency to slight relaxation of the +throat, but this is nothing more than a trifling inconvenience, +very endurable, and which probably a little more seasoning will +remove.... I tell you of our health first, for at our distance from +each other that is the matter of greatest moment and anxiety....</p> + +<p>I must tell you of our future arrangements; and, to begin like an +Irishwoman, we arrived here on Monday. My father acts to-night for +the first time, Hamlet; and I make my first appearance to-morrow in +"Fazio." We shall act here for three weeks, and then return to New +York for a month; after which we shall proceed to Boston, whence +look to receive volumes from me about Webster, and Channing, and +our friends and fellow-passengers, the H——s, who reside there.</p> + +<p>I like this place better than New York; it has an air of greater +age. It has altogether a rather dull, sober, mellow hue, which is +more agreeable than the glaring newness of New York. There are one +or two fine public buildings, and the quantity of clean, +cool-looking white marble which they use both for their public +edifices and for the doorsteps of the private houses has a simple +and sumptuous appearance, which is pleasant. It is <a name="Page_549" id="Page_549" ></a><span class="pagenum">[549]</span>electioneering +time, and all last night the streets resounded with cheers and +shouts, and shone with bonfires. The present President, Jackson, +appears to be far from popular here, and though his own partisans +are determined, of course, to re-elect him if possible, a violent +struggle is likely to take place; and here already his opponent, +Henry Clay, who is the leader of the aristocratic party in the +United States, is said to have obtained the superiority over him.</p> + +<p>I have got Graham's and Smith's "Histories," and though my time for +reading is anything but abundant, yet every night and morning I do +contrive, while brushing the outside of my head, to cram something +into the inside of it.</p> + +<p>I cannot bear to give up any advantage which I once possessed, and +therefore struggle to keep up, in some degree, my music and +Italian. These, together with rehearsing every morning, and acting +four times a week, besides my journal, which I very seldom neglect, +make up a good deal of daily occupation. Then, one must sacrifice a +certain amount of time to the conventional waste of society, +receiving and returning visits, etc.... I like what I have read of +Graham very much; the matter is very interesting, and the spirit in +which it is treated; and I am deeply in love with Captain John +Smith, and wonder greatly at Pocahontas marrying anybody else. I +suppose, however, the savage was not without excuse; for Mary +Stuart, who knew something of these matters, says, with a rather +satirical glance at her cousin of England, "En ces sortes de +choses, la plus sage de nous toutes n'est qu'un peu moins sotte que +les autres."</p> + +<p>I have been to my first rehearsal here to-day; the theater is +small, but pretty enough. The public has high pretensions to +considerable critical judgment and literary and dramatic taste, and +scouts the idea of being led by the opinion of New York.... It is +rather tiresome that fools are cut upon the same pattern all the +world over. What is the profit of traveling? Oh dear! I think my +Fazio has got St. Vitus's dance!...</p> + +<p>Yesterday I tried some horses, which were rather terrible +quadrupeds. They were not ill-bred cattle to look at, and I should +think of a race that, with care and attention, might be brought to +considerable perfection; but they are never properly broken for the +saddle. The Americans who have spoken to me about riding say that +they do not like a horse to have what we consider proper paces, but +prefer a shambling sort of half-trot, half-canter, which they +judiciously call a rack, and which is the ugliest pace to behold, +and the most difficult to en<a name="Page_550" id="Page_550" ></a><span class="pagenum">[550]</span>dure, possible. They never use a curb, +but ride their horses upon the snaffle entirely, dragging it as +tight as they can, and having the appearance of holding on for dear +life by it; so that the horse, in addition to the awkward gait I +have described, throws his head up, and pokes his nose out, and +with open jaws "devours the road" before him....</p> + +<p>I acted here last night for the first time. Dall and my father say +that I received my reception very ungraciously. I am sure I am very +sorry, I did not mean to do so, but I really had not the heart or +the face to smile and look as pleased and pleasant as I can at a +parcel of strangers.... I was not well, or in spirits, and laboring +under a severe cold, which I acquired on board the steamboat that +brought down the Delaware.... Neither the Raritan nor the Delaware +struck me in any way except by their great width. These vast +streams naturally suggest the mighty resources which a country so +watered presents to the commercial enterprise of its inhabitants. +The breadth of these great rivers dwarfs their shores and makes +their banks appear flat and uninteresting, though the large +lake-like basins into which they occasionally expand are grand from +the mere extent and volume of the sweeping mass of waters.</p> + +<p>The colors of the autumnal foliage are rich and beautiful beyond +imagination—crimson and gold, like a regal mantle, instead of the +sad russet cloak of our fading woods. I think, beautiful as this +is, that its gorgeousness takes away from the sweet solemnity that +makes the fall of the year pre-eminently the season of thoughtful +contemplation. Our autumn at home is mellow and harmonious, though +sometimes melancholy; but the brilliancy of this decay strikes one +sometimes with a sudden sadness, as if the whole world were dying +of consumption, with these glittering gleams and hectic flushes, a +mere deception of disease and death.... Good-by, my dearest H——</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Philadelphia</span>, October 14, 1832.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>"Boston is a Yankee town, and so is Philadelphy;" considering +which, I assure you I find the latter quite a civilized place. The +above quotation is from "Yankee-doodle," the National Anthem of the +Americans, which I will sing to you some day when I am within +hearing.</p> + +<p>We have just returned from church. Dall and I being too late this +morning for the service, which begins at half-past ten, sallied +forth in search of salvation this afternoon, and after <a name="Page_551" id="Page_551" ></a><span class="pagenum">[551]</span>wandering +about a little, entered a fine-looking church, which we found was a +Presbyterian place of worship.... The preaching to-day was +extemporaneous, and extremely feeble and commonplace, occasionally +reminding me of your eloquent friend at Skerries.... I shall try, +on my return to New York, to settle to some work in earnest, as I +hope there that we shall repeat the plays we have already acted, +and so need no rehearsals.... To-morrow I act Juliet to my father's +Romeo; he does it still most beautifully.... In spite of his acting +it with his own child (which puts a manifest absurdity on the very +face of it), the perfection of his art makes it more youthful, +graceful, ardent, and lover-like—a better Romeo, in short, than +the youngest pretender to it nowadays. It is certainly simple truth +when he says, "I am the youngest of that name, for lack of a +better," when the nurse asks for young Romeo.</p> + +<p>Wednesday we act "The School for Scandal," and Friday "Venice +Preserved." So there's your play-bill....</p> + +<p>At this moment a great political excitement pervades the country; +it is the time of the Presidential Election, and the most vehement +efforts are being made by the Democratic party to maintain the +present President, General Jackson, in his post. The majority, I +believe, is in his favor, though we are told that the "better +classes" (whatever that may mean where no distinctions of class +exist) embrace the cause of his opponent, Henry Clay.</p> + +<p>It seems curious, if it is true, as we have been assured, that in +this one State of Pennsylvania, eight thousand persons out of fifty +who have the right of voting were all who in this last election +exercised it; so that the much-vaunted privilege of universal +suffrage does not seem to be highly prized where it is possessed.</p> + +<p>From all the opinions that I hear expressed upon the subject, it +does not seem as though the system of election prevalent here works +much better, or is much freer from abuses, than the well-vilified +one which England has just been reforming. Bribery and corruption +are familiar here as elsewhere, to those who have, and those who +wish to have, power; and I have not yet heard a single American +speak of our Radical reformers without uplifted hands at what they +consider their folly in not "letting well alone," or, as they say, +in substituting one set of abuses for another, as they declare we +shall do if we adopt their vote by ballot system.</p> + +<p>I have now written you a philosophical, moral, and political +<a name="Page_552" id="Page_552" ></a><span class="pagenum">[552]</span>letter, and beg you will score up my attempt to write rationally +against the loads of gibberish I have from time to time discoursed +to you. Good bless you, dearest H——! Three thousand miles away, I +am still</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Always your affectionate</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Philadelphia</span>, October 22, 1832.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dear</span> H——, +</p> + +<p>My first news is deplorable, and I beg you will lament over it +accordingly. I eat little, drink less, rehearse six mornings and +act five nights a week; in spite of all which, and riding a +heavy-going, jolting, shambling, hard-pulling horse, I have grown +so fat that I really cannot perceive that there is any shape in +particular about me. Grotesque things sometimes are melancholy too, +and it is so with me, for I am both....</p> + +<p>My father and Dall are very well; at this moment he is busy saying, +and she hearing him say, the part of Fazio, which he is to act with +me to-morrow night. I dread it dreadfully; acting anything painful +with him always tries my nerves extremely.</p> + +<p>Bianca is a part of terrible excitement in itself, without the +addition of having to act it to his Fazio. I cannot get rid of his +being he, and it agonizes me really to see his sham agony; however, +"'tis my vocation, Hal." It is very well that our audiences should +look at us as mere puppets, for could they sometimes see the real +feelings of those for whose false miseries their sympathies are +excited, I believe sufficiently in their humanity to think they +would kindly give us leave to leave off and go home. Ours is a very +strange trade, and I am sorry to say that every day increases my +distaste for it.... I do not think that during my father's life I +shall ever leave the stage; it is very selfish to feel regret at +this, I know, but it sometimes seems to me rather dreary to look +along my future years, and think that they will be devoted to labor +that I dislike and despise.... For many years—ever since I entered +upon my first girlhood, indeed—a quiet, lonely life upon a small +independence has been the aim of my desires and my notion of +happiness. Italy and the south of France formerly constantly +solicited my imagination, as offering pleasant places wherein to +build a solitary nest.... And now a cottage near Edinburgh, with an +income of two hundred a year, seems to me the most desirable of +earthly possessions; but, though this is certainly not a very wild +vision of wealth or magnificence, I fear it is quite as little +within my reach as southern palaces, or villas on the +Mediterranean.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_553" id="Page_553" ></a><span class="pagenum">[553]</span>My father has hitherto been able to lay by nothing, and my +assistance is absolutely necessary to him, ... and as long as I can +in any way serve my father's interests by remaining in my +profession I shall do so, and must naturally look forward to a +prolonged period of my present exertions. It is useless pondering +upon this, but I have been led to do so lately from a letter which +my father received from Mr. Bartley, the stage manager of Covent +Garden, the other day, which contained the plan of a new theatrical +speculation, in which he is most anxious to engage us. I know not +how my father feels upon this subject.... I, however, am well +determined that neither Mr. L——'s opinion, nor that of the whole +world besides, should induce me to own the value of a truss of +straw in any theater. My father's whole life has been given over to +trouble and anxiety in consequence of his proprietorship and +involvement in that ruinous concern, Covent Garden; and now, when +his remaining health and strength will no more than serve to lay up +the means of subsistence when health and strength are gone, the +idea of his loading himself with such a burden of bitterness as the +proprietorship of a new theater makes me perfectly miserable. For +my own part, I am determined to own neither part nor lot in any +such venture: I will lend or give anything that I may earn to it, +and I will act, at half the price I might get elsewhere, for it, if +my father wishes me to do so; but not a demonstrable cent per cent +profit should induce me to run such a risk of cursing the day that +I was born, as to become owner of a theater. I write you all this +(and I have written more than enough about it) because it has been +lately a subject of much anxious meditation to me. The matter is at +present without settled form or plan, but the proposal of such a +scheme has caused me deep regret and anxiety.... I am going to act +to-morrow in "The Hunchback;" Thursday, Mrs. Beverley; Friday, Lady +Townley; Saturday, Juliet; Monday, Julia again; and Tuesday, +Bizarre in "The Inconstant;" which ends our engagement here. This +is pretty hard work, is it not? besides always one, and sometimes +two rehearsals of a morning.</p> + +<p>We begin our second engagement in New York on the 7th of November. +Don't forget that the 27th of that month is my birthday, and that +if you neglect to drink my health, I shall probably die, for want +of your good wishes to keep me alive.</p> + +<p>We act in Boston on the 3d of December; "further than that the +deponent sayeth not."</p> + +<p>I told you in my last letter that Philadelphia was the cleanest +<a name="Page_554" id="Page_554" ></a><span class="pagenum">[554]</span>place in the world. The country along the banks of the Schuylkill +(one of the rivers on which it stands; the other is the Delaware) +is wild and beautiful, and the glory of the autumn woods what an +eye that hath not seen can by no manner of means conceive. I have +for the last week had my room full of the most delicious flowers +that could only be seen with us at midsummer, and here, in these +last days of autumn, they are as abundant and fragrant, and the sun +is as intensely hot and brilliant, as it should be, but never is, +with us, in the month of July....</p> + +<p>Dall went into a Quaker's shop here the other day, when, after +waiting upon her with the utmost attention and kindness, the master +of the shop said, "And how doth Fanny? I was in hopes she might +have wanted something; we should have great pleasure in attending +upon her." Was not that nice? So to-day I went thither, and bought +myself a lovely sober-colored gown. This place, as you know, is the +headquarters of Quakerdom, and all the enchanting nosegays come +from "a Philadelphia friend," the latter word dashed under, as if +to indicate a member of the religious fraternity always called by +that kindly title here....</p> + +<p>I think my father has some idea of bringing out "The Star of +Seville" here, and if he does I shall break my heart that it was +not brought out first in England. Emily always reproaches me with +want of patriotism. I have more than helps to make me cheerful +here, and leaving England—not home, and not you, but England, +England—for two years, seems to me now ridiculous, and fabulous, +and preposterous, and disastrous.</p> + +<p>I have finished my first volume of Graham, and I have finished this +letter. God bless you!</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Ever your affectionate</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Philadelphia</span>, November 2, 1832.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I received your fifth letter to-day, and one from Dorothy, and one +from Emily Fitzhugh.... My last letter to you was a sad one, and +sad in a fashion that does not often occur to me. I was troubled +and anxious about my professional labor and its results, and that +may be called a small sadness compared with some other with which I +have lately become familiar. Of course none of these anxieties have +been removed, for some time must elapse before I can know on what +plan my father determines with regard to Mr. Bartley's proposal +about this new theater. It <a name="Page_555" id="Page_555" ></a><span class="pagenum">[555]</span>does not affect me personally, because I +am thoroughly determined to take no part in any speculation of the +kind; but the possibility of my father entering into any such +scheme is care enough to "kill a cat," and make a kitten miserable +besides.... In all matters, but especially in matters of business, +I hold frankness, straightforwardness, and decision as conducive to +success, as consonant with right feeling; but I think men are much +more cowardly than women, and believe a great deal more in policy, +temporizing, and expediency than we do. "Managing" is supposed to +be a feminine tendency; it has no place in my composition; perhaps +I might be the better for a little of it—but only perhaps, and +only a little.... This letter, as you will perceive by its date, +was begun on the banks of the Delaware; here we are, however, once +more in New York. It is Monday evening, the 5th of November, and +you are firing squibs and burning manikins <i>en action de grâces</i> +that the Houses of Parliament were not blown up by the Roman +Catholics, instead of living to be reformed by the Whigs, and +(peradventure) blowing up the nation.</p> + +<p>The Presidential Election is going on here, and creates immense +excitement. General Jackson, they say, will certainly be +re-elected.</p> + +<p>Our last fortnight in Philadelphia has been one of incessant and +very hard work, rehearsing every morning and acting every night. I +rejoiced heartily when our engagement drew to a close, for I was +fairly worn out, and money bought with health is bought too dear, I +think.... I have taken some very pleasant rides during our stay in +Philadelphia; the horses are none of them properly broken for +riding, which makes it a pleasure of no small fatigue to ride them +for three or four hours. Luckily, I do not object to severe +exercise, and the weather and the country were both charming....</p> + +<p>I am glad you have been re-reading the "Tempest." ... What +exquisite pleasure that fine creation has given me! I like it +better than any of the other plays; it is less "of the earth, +earthy" than any of the others; for though the "Midsummer Night's +Dream" is in some sort, as it were, its companion, the mortal +element in the latter poem is far less noble and lovely than in the +"Tempest." Prospero and Miranda, the dwellers on the enchanted +island, are statelier and fairer than any of the human wanderers in +the mazes of the Athenian wood. There is a deep and indescribable +melancholy to me in the "Tempest" that mingles throughout with its +beauty, and lends a special charm to it. I so often contemplate in +<a name="Page_556" id="Page_556" ></a><span class="pagenum">[556]</span>fancy that island, lost in the unknown seas, just in the hour of +its renewed solitude, after the departure of its "human mortal" +dwellers and visitors, when Prospero and his companions had bade +farewell to it, when Caliban was grunting and grubbing and +groveling in his favorite cave again, when Ariel was hovering like +a humming-bird over the flower draperies of the woods, where the +footprints of men were still stamped on the wet sand of the shining +shore, but their voices silent and their forms vanished, and utter +solitude, and a strange dream of the past, filling the haunts where +human life, its sin and sorrow, and joy and hope, and love and +hate, had breathed and palpitated, and were now forever gone. The +notion of that desert once, but now deserted, paradise, whose +flowers had looked up at Miranda, whose skies had shed wisdom on +Prospero, always seems to me full of melancholy. The girl's sweet +voice singing no more in the sunny, still noon, the grave, tender +converse of the father and child charming no more the solemn +eventide, the forsaken island dwells in my imagination as at once +desecrated and hallowed by its mortal sojourners; no longer savage +quite, and never to be civilized; the supernatural element +disturbed, the human element withdrawn; a sad, beautiful place, +stranger than any other in the world. Perhaps the sea went over it; +it has never been found since Shakespeare landed on it. I love that +poem beyond words....</p> + +<p>I shall ruin you in postage; if there is any chance of that, keep +Mrs. Norton's five guineas to pay for my American epistles.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Ever your affectionate</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p> + + +<p class="salutation" style="margin-top:2em;"><span class="smcap">Dearest H——</span>,</p> + +<p>I have received your letter, acknowledging my first to you.... As +for letters, they are like everything else we experience here, +sources of to the full as much suffering as satisfaction. Who has +not felt their whole blood run backward at sight of one of these +folded fate-bearers? I declare, breaking an envelope always has +something of the character of pulling a shower-bath string over +one's own head; I wonder anybody ever has the courage to do it....</p> + +<p>Your dread of our finding New York quite a desert would have been +literally fulfilled had we reached it a fortnight sooner; but the +dreadful malady, the cholera, had taken its departure, and though +private bereavements and general stagnation of business rendered +the season a very unfavorable one for our experiment, yet, upon the +whole, we have every reason <a name="Page_557" id="Page_557" ></a><span class="pagenum">[557]</span>to be well satisfied with the result of +it, and think we did well not to postpone the beginning of our +campaign.... The first serious experiences of our youth seem to me +like the breaking asunder of some curious, beautiful, and mystical +pattern or device.... All our lives long we are more or less intent +on replacing the bright scattered fragments in their original +shape: most of us die with the bits still scattered round us—that +is to say, such of the bits as have not been ground into powder, or +soiled and defaced beyond recognition, in the life-process. The few +very wise find and place them in a coherent form at last, but it is +quite another curious, beautiful, and mystical device or pattern +from the original one.</p> + +<p>The deaths of the young Napoleon, the Duke of Reichstadt, and +Walter Scott have excited universal interest here, naturally of a +very dissimilar kind. One's heart burns to think of that young +eagle falling like a weakly winter flower, or a faded, sickly girl, +into his untimely grave.... There was nothing for him but death. If +he had been anything, it could only have been a wild spark of the +mad meteor from which he sprang; and as Heaven in its wisdom +forbade that, I think it much of its mercy that it extinguished him +early and utterly, and did not leave him to flare and flicker and +burn himself out with foul gunpowder smoke, and smell of dead men +slain in battle, in the middle of the smoldering ashes of his +father's European empire.</p> + +<p>My admiration and respect for Walter Scott are unbounded, and were +I the noblest, richest, and charmingest man in the world, I would +lay myself at Anne Scott's feet out of sheer love and veneration +for her father....</p> + +<p>You ask me if I wrote anything on board ship? Nothing but odds and +ends of doggerel. Since I have been here I have written some verses +on the beautiful American autumn, which have been published with +commendation. I am thinking of writing a prose story, if ever again +I can get two minutes and a half of leisure.... Your entreaties for +minute details of our life make me sad, for how little of what we +do, be, or suffer can be conveyed to you in this miserable scrap of +paper!... Our dinner-hour is three when we are actors, five when we +are ladies and gentlemen. The food we get here in New York is very +indifferent. It was excellent in quality in Philadelphia, but +wherever we have been there is a want of niceness and refinement in +the cooking and serving everything that is very disagreeable....</p> + +<p>Thursday, Nov. 27th. This is my birthday—in England <a name="Page_558" id="Page_558" ></a><span class="pagenum">[558]</span>always one of +the gloomiest days of this gloomy month; here my windows are all +open, and the warm sun streaming in as it might on the finest of +early September days with us. I am to-day three-and-twenty. Where +is my life gone to? As the child said, "Where does the light go +when the candle is out?" ... Since last I wrote to you I have been +forty miles up the Hudson, and seen such noble waters and beautiful +hills, such glory of color and magnificent breadth in the grand +river and its autumn woods, as I cannot describe.</p> + +<p>This is our last night but one of acting here. We play "The +Hunchback" on Saturday, and on Monday go back to Philadelphia for +three weeks; thence to Baltimore and Washington, and then return +here. I must go now and rehearse Katharine and Petruchio.</p> + +<p>I have just finished Graham's "History," and am beginning John +Smith. By the by, a gentleman here is writing a play, in which I am +to act Pocahontas and my father Captain Smith. Come out and see it, +won't you? Good-by, dear. Think always of your affectionate</p> + +<p class="signature">F. A. K.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +December 9, 1832.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>I received yours of October 16th yesterday.... You are not +healthily natured enough to be inconstant. Yours is one of those +morbid organizations for whom the present never does its wholesome, +proper office of superseding the past, and your thoughts and +feelings, your whole inner life, in short, is always out of +perspective, because your background is forever your foreground, +and with you, half the time, nothing is but what is not; not in +consequence of looking forward, like Macbeth, but the reverse.... I +am delighted that you are going to Scotland to know my dear Mrs. +Harry Siddons.</p> + +<p>Before this letter reaches you, however, you will have returned to +your castle, and your visit to Edinburgh will be over.... Mercy on +me! what disputations you and Mr. Combe will have had—on matters +physiological, psychological, phrenological, and philosophical! My +brains ache to imagine them.... Spurzheim, you know, is dead lately +in Boston. It is a matter of regret to me not to have seen him, and +his death will be a grief to the Combes, who venerate him +highly.... Making trial of people is running a foolish risk, and +they who get disappointment by it reap the most probable result +from such experiments. I am quite willing to trust my friends; God +forbid I should ever try them!...</p> + +<p><a name="Page_559" id="Page_559" ></a><span class="pagenum">[559]</span>We have not yet been to Boston, and therefore I myself know nothing +of Channing, and cannot answer your questions about him. All that I +hear inclines me to like as well as respect him. His gentleness and +kindness, his weak health, brought on by over-study, his perfect +simplicity and unaffectedness—these are the usual details that +follow any mention of him, and accord with the impression his +writings produced upon me; but of his theological treatises I know +nothing.</p> + +<p>I am glad anything so universal as the blessed sunshine reminds you +of me, because my remembrance must be present with you almost +daily. The lights of heaven shine more glowingly here than through +the misty veils that curtain our islands. The moon and stars are +wonderfully bright, and there is an intensity, an earnestness, and +a translucent purity in the sky here that delights me.... Four +months are already gone out of the two years we are to pass out of +England. Dear England! My heart dwells with affectionate pride upon +the beauty and greatness and goodness of my own country—that +wonderful little land, that mere morsel of earth as it seems on the +map—so full of power, of wealth, of intellectual vigor and moral +worth!...</p> + +<p>I found Graham a little too much of a Republican for me, though his +"History" seemed to me upon the whole good and very impartial. I am +now half way through Smith's "Virginia," which pleases me by its +quaint old-world style. I am myself much inclined to be in love +with Captain Smith. A man who fights three Turks and carries their +heads on his shield is to me an admirable man....</p> + +<p>I answer the propositions in your letters in regular rotation as +they come; and so, with regard to the peaches, those that I have +tasted on this side of the Atlantic I should say were not +comparable to fine hothouse peaches in England and fine French +espalier peaches; but then the peach trees here are standard trees, +and there are whole orchards of them. Their chief merit, therefore, +is their abundance, and some of that abundance is certainly fit for +nothing but to feed pigs withal. [It is by no means a luxury to be +despised, however, to have, in the American fashion, on a hot +summer's day, a deep plate presented to you full of peaches, cut up +like apples for a pie, that have been standing in ice, and are then +snowed over with sugar and frozen cream.]</p> + +<p>We are now in Philadelphia, whence we go to Baltimore, Washington, +and Charleston. The Southern States are at this moment in a state +of violent excitement, which seems almost <a name="Page_560" id="Page_560" ></a><span class="pagenum">[560]</span>to threaten a dissolution +of the Union. The tariff question is the point of disagreement; and +as the interests of the North and South are in direct opposition on +this subject, there is no foretelling the end.</p> + +<p>Our success is very great, and we have every reason to be satisfied +with and grateful for it. Our houses are full, and eke our pockets, +and we have hitherto managed to live in tolerable privacy and very +tolerable discomfort. But I believe the western part of the country +has yet to teach us the extent of inconvenience to which travelers +in America are sometimes liable. God bless you, dearest H——.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +I am, ever yours affectionately,</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p> + +<p>My father and I took a moonlight walk the other night, from ten +o'clock till half-past twelve, during which we neither of us +uttered six words.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Baltimore</span>, January 2, 1833.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>You are the first to whom I date this new year.... I told you in +one of my letters to keep the five guineas Mrs. Norton has paid you +for my scribblements to pay the postage of my letters—do so....</p> + +<p>We arrived in this place on Monday, at half-past four, having left +Philadelphia at six in the morning. We have just terminated a +second engagement there very successfully. If the roads and +carriages are bad, and the land-traveling altogether detestable, +the speed, facility, and convenience of the steamboats, by which +one may really be conveyed from one end to another of this world of +vast waters, are very admirable. Vast waters indeed they are! We +came down the Delaware on Monday, and (open your Irish eyes!) +sometimes it was six, sometimes thirteen miles wide, and never +narrower than three or four miles at any part of it that we saw. So +wide an expanse of fresh running water is in itself a fine object. +We crossed the narrow neck of land between the Delaware and the +Chesapeake on a railroad with one of Stephenson's engines....</p> + +<p>The railroad was full of knots and dots, and jolting and jumping +and bumping and thumping places. The carriages we were in held +twelve people very uncomfortably. Baltimore itself, as far as I +have seen it, strikes me as a large, rambling, red-brick village on +the outskirts of one of our manufacturing towns, Birmingham or +Manchester. It covers an immense extent of ground, but there are +great gaps and vacancies in the middle of the streets, patches of +gravely ground, parcels of meadow <a name="Page_561" id="Page_561" ></a><span class="pagenum">[561]</span>land, and large vacant +spaces—which will all, no doubt, be covered with buildings in good +time, for it is growing daily and hourly—but which at present give +it an untidy, unfinished, straggling appearance.</p> + +<p>While my father and I were exploring about together yesterday, we +came to a print-shop, whose window exhibited an engraving of +Reynolds's Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic Muse, and Lawrence's picture +of my uncle John in Hamlet. We stopped before them, and my father +looked with a good deal of emotion at these beautiful +representations of his beautiful kindred, and it was a sort of sad +surprise to meet them in this other world where we are wandering, +aliens and strangers.</p> + +<p>This is the newest-looking place we have yet visited, the youngest +in appearance in this young world; and I have experienced to-day a +disagreeable instance of its immature civilization, or at any rate +its small proficiency in the elegancies of life. I wanted to ride, +but although a horse was to be found, no such thing as a +side-saddle could be procured at any livery-stable or saddler's in +the town, so I have been obliged to give up my projected exercise.</p> + +<p>I have been to my first rehearsal here this morning, and wretched +enough all things were. I act for the first time to-morrow night +Bianca, which they have everywhere chosen for my opening part; and +it is a good one for that purpose, as I generally act and look well +in it, and it is the sort of play that all sorts of people can +comprehend. There is a foreign—I mean continental—custom here, +which is pleasant. They have a <i>table d'hôte</i> dinner at two +o'clock, and while it is going on a very tolerable band plays all +manner of Italian airs and German waltzes, and as there is a fine +long corridor into which my room-door opens, with a window at each +end, I have a very agreeable promenade, and take my exercise to +this musical accompaniment....</p> + +<p>I have at this moment on my table a lovely nosegay—roses, +geraniums, rare heaths, and perfect white camellias. Our windows +are all wide open; the heat is intense, and the air that comes in +at them like a sirocco. It is unusual weather for the season even +here, and very unwholesome.</p> + +<p>In a week's time we are going on to Washington, where we shall find +dear Washington Irving, whom I think I shall embrace, for England's +sake as well as his own. We have letters to the President, to whom +we are to be presented, and to his rival, Henry Clay, and to Daniel +Webster, whom I care more to know than either of the others.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_562" id="Page_562" ></a><span class="pagenum">[562]</span>After a short stay in Washington we return here, and then back to +Philadelphia and New York, till the 20th of February, after which +we sail for Charleston. There has been, and still exists at +present, a very considerable degree of political alarm and +excitement in this country, owing to the threat of the South +Carolinians to secede from the Union if the tariff is not annulled, +and the country is in hourly expectation of being involved in a +civil war. However, the prevailing opinion among the wise seems to +be that the Northern States will be obliged to give up the tariff, +as the only means of preserving the Union; and if matters come to a +peaceable settlement, we shall proceed in February to Charleston; +if not, South Carolina will have other things to think of besides +plays and play-actors. The summer we shall probably spend in +Canada; the winter perhaps in Jamaica, to which place we have +received a most pressing invitation from Lord Mulgrave. The end of +the ensuing spring will, I trust in God, see us embarked once more +for England....</p> + +<p>We are earning money very fast, and though I think we work too +incessantly and too hard, yet, as every night we do not act is a +certain loss of so much out of my father's pocket, I do not like to +make many objections to it, although I think it is really not +unlikely to be detrimental to his own health and strength....</p> + +<p>I spent yesterday evening with some very pleasant people here, who +are like old-fashioned English folk, the Catons, Lady Wellesley's +father and mother. They are just now in deep mourning for Mrs. +Caton's father, the venerable Mr. Carroll, who was upward of +ninety-five years old when he died, and was the last surviving +signer of the Declaration of Independence. I saw a lovely picture +by Lawrence of the eldest of the three beautiful sisters, the +daughters of Mrs. Caton, who have all married Englishmen of rank. +[The Marchioness of Wellesley, the Duchess of Leeds, and Lady +Stafford. The fashion of marrying in England seems to be +traditional in this family. Miss McTavish, niece of these ladies, +married Mr. Charles Howard, son of the Earl of Carlisle.]</p> + +<p>The Baltimore women are celebrated for their beauty, and I think +they are the prettiest creatures I have ever seen as far as their +faces go; but they are short and thin, and have no figures at all, +either in height or breadth, and pinch their waists and feet most +cruelly, which certainly, considering how small they are by nature, +is a work of supererogation, and does not tend to produce in them a +state of grace.... We act every <a name="Page_563" id="Page_563" ></a><span class="pagenum">[563]</span>night this week, and as we are +obliged to rehearse every morning, of course I have no time for any +occupations but my strictly professional ones. I do not approve of +this quantity of hard work for either my father or myself, but I do +not like to make any further protest upon the subject....</p> + +<p> +Good-by, dearest H——.</p> +<p class="yours">I am ever your affectionate</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p></div> + +<p class="center gap"><span class="smcap">To Mrs. Jameson</span>.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"><span class="smcap">Baltimore</span>, January 11, 1833.</p> + +<p>Thank you across the sea, dear Mrs. Jameson, for your letter of the +1st of November. I had been wondering, but the day before it +reached me, whether you had ever received one I wrote to you on my +first arrival in New York, or whether you were accusing me of +neglect, ingratitude, forgetfulness, and all the turpitudes that +the delay of a letter sometimes causes folk to give other folk +credit for. My occupations are incessant, or rather, I should say, +my occupation, for to my sorrow I have but one. 'Tis not with me +now as in the fortunate days when, after six rehearsals, a piece +ran, as the saying is, twenty nights, leaving me all the mornings +and three evenings in the week at my own disposal. Here we rush +from place to place, at each place have to drill a new set of +actors, and every night to act a different play; so that my days +are passed in dawdling about cold, dark stages, with blundering +actors who have not even had the conscience to study the words of +their parts, all the morning. All the afternoon I pin up ribbons +and feathers and flowers, and sort out theatrical adornments, and +all the evening I enchant audiences, prompt my fellow-mimes, and +wish it had pleased Heaven to make me a cabbage in a corner of a +Christian kitchen-garden in—well, say Hertfordshire, or any other +county of England; I am not particular as to the precise spot.... +Whenever I can I get on horseback; it is the only pleasure I have +in this world; for my dancing days are drawing to a close. But I +mean to ride as long as I have a hand to hold a rein, or a leg to +put over a pommel. By the by, I ought to beg your pardon for the +last sentence; I ought to have said a foot to put into a stirrup; +for if you are not ashamed of having legs you ought to be—at +least, we are in this country, and never mention, or give the +slightest token of having such things, except by wearing very short +petticoats, which we don't consider objectionable.... I am glad you +have furbished up and completed your little room, because <a name="Page_564" id="Page_564" ></a><span class="pagenum">[564]</span>it is a +sign you mean to stay where you are, and I like to know where to +find you in my imagination.... I have just seen dear Washington +Irving, and it required all my sense of decent decorum to prevent +my throwing my arms round his neck, he looked so like a bit of +home, England.</p> + +<p>You will be glad to hear that we are thriving, in body and estate. +We are all well, and our work is very successful. The people flock +to see us, and nothing can exceed the kindness which we meet with +everywhere and from everybody.... I read nothing whatever since I +am in this blessed land. The only books I have accomplished getting +through have been Graham's "History of North America," +Knickerbocker's "History of New York," which nearly killed me with +laughing; "Contarini Fleming," which is very affected and very +clever; sundry cantos of Dante, sundry plays of Shakespeare, sundry +American poems [which are very good], and old Captain John Smith's +quaint "History of Virginia." As fast as I gather my wits together +for any steady occupation, I am whisked off to some new place, and +do not recover from one journey before I have to take another. The +roads here shake one's body, soul, thoughts, opinions, and +principles all to pieces; I assure you they are wicked roads.</p> + +<p>Our theater, Covent Garden, is, we understand, going to the dogs. I +cannot help it any more, that is certain, and feel about that as +about all things that have had their day—it must go. Taglioni is +like a dream, and you must not abuse Mademoiselle Mars to me. I +never saw her but twice—in "L'Ecole des Vieillards" and +"Valérie"—and I thought her perfection in both.... If I do not +leave off, you will be blind for the next fortnight with reading +this crossed letter. I wish you success most heartily in all you +undertake, and am truly and faithfully yours,</p> + +<p class="signature"><span class="smcap">Fanny Kemble</span>.</p></div> + +<p>[Washington Irving was intimately acquainted with my father and mother, +and a most kind and condescending friend to me. He often told me that +when first he went to England, long before authorship or celebrity had +dawned upon him, he was a member of a New York commercial house, on +whose affairs he was sent to Europe. It was when he was a mere obscure +young man of business in London that he had been introduced to my +mother, whose cordial kindness to him in his foreign isolation seemed to +have made a profound impression on him; for when I knew him, in the days +of his great literary celebrity and social success, he often referred to +it with the <a name="Page_565" id="Page_565" ></a><span class="pagenum">[565]</span>warmest expressions of gratitude. I think, of all the +distinguished persons I have known, he was one of the least affected by +the adulation and admiration of society. He remained quite unchanged by +his extreme social popularity. Simple, unaffected, unconstrained, +genial, kindly, and good, he seemed so entirely to forget his own +celebrity, that one almost forgot it too in talking to him. I remember +his coming, the day after my first appearance at Covent Garden, to see +us, and congratulated my parents on the success of that terrible +experiment. I, who was always delighted to see him, ran to fetch the +pretty new watch I had received from my father the night before, and +displayed its beauties with an eager desire for his admiration of them. +He took it and slowly turned it about, commending its fine workmanship +and pretty enamel and jewelry; then putting it to his ear, with a most +mischievous look of affected surprise, he exclaimed, as one does to a +child's watch, "Why, it goes, I declare!"</p> + +<p>To my great regret and loss, I saw Mademoiselle Mars only in two parts, +when, in the autumn of her beauty and powers, she played a short +engagement in London. The grace, the charm, the loveliness, which she +retained far into middle age, were, even in their decline, enough to +justify all that her admirers said of her early incomparable +fascination. Her figure had grown large and her face become round, and +lost their fine outline and proportion; but the exquisite taste of her +dress and graceful dignity of her deportment, and sweet radiance of her +expressive countenance, were still indescribably charming; and the +voice, unrivaled in its fresh melodious brilliancy, and the pure and +perfect enunciation, were unimpaired, and sounded like the clear liquid +utterance of a young girl of sixteen. Her Celimène and her Elmire I +never had the good fortune to see, but can imagine, from her performance +of the heroine in Casimir de la Vigne's capital play of "L'Ecole des +Vieillards," how well she must have deserved her unrivaled reputation in +those parts.</p> + +<p>It is remarkable that one of the most striking points in Madame d'Orval +was suggested by herself to the author. De la Vigne, according to the +frequent usage of French authors, was reading his piece to the great +actress, upon whom its success was mainly to depend, and when he came to +the scene where the offended but unjustly suspicious husband recounts to +his wife the details of his duel with the young duke whose attentions to +her had excited his jealousy, and that when, full of the tenderest +anxiety for his safety, she flies to meet him, and is <a name="Page_566" id="Page_566" ></a><span class="pagenum">[566]</span>repulsed by the +bitter irony of his speech, beginning, "Rassurez-vous, madame, le duc +n'est point blessé," Mademoiselle Mars, having listened in silence till +the end of D'Orval's speech, exclaimed, "Mais, quoi! je ne dis rien, +elle ne dit rien!" De la Vigne, who had made the young woman listen in +speechless anguish to the bitter and unjust reproach conveyed by her +husband's first words and his subsequent account of the duel, said, in +some surprise at Mademoiselle Mars' suggestion, "Mais quoi encore—que +peut-elle dire? que voudriez-vous qu'elle dise?" "Ah, quelquechose!" +cried Mademoiselle Mars, clasping her hands in the imagined distress of +the situation; "rien—deuxmots seulement. 'Ah, monsieur!' quand il dit, +'Rassurez-vous, madame, le duc n'est point blessé.'" "Eh bien! dites, +dites comme cela," cried De la Vigne, amazed at all the expression the +exquisite voice and face had given to the two words. And so the scene +was altered, and the long recital of D'Orval was broken by the +reproachful "Ah, monsieur!" of his wife, and seldom has the utterance of +such an insignificant exclamation affected those who heard it so keenly. +For myself, I never can forget the sudden, burning blush that spread +tingling to my shoulders at all the shame and mortification and anguish +conveyed in the pathetic protest of that "Ah, monsieur!" of Mademoiselle +Mars.</p> + +<p>Dr. Gueneau de Mussy, who knew her well, and used to see her very +frequently in her later years of retirement from the stage, told me that +he had often heard her read, among other things, the whole play of "Le +Tartuffe," and that the coarse flippancy of the honest-hearted Dorinne, +and the stupid stolidity of the dupe Orgon, and the vulgar, gross, +sensual hypocrisy of the Tartuffe, were all rendered by her with the +same incomparable truth and effect as her own famous part of the heroine +of the piece, Elmire. On one of the very last occasions of her appearing +before her own Parisian audience, when she had passed the limit at which +it was possible for a woman of her advanced age to assume the appearance +of youth, the part she was playing requiring that she should exclaim "Je +suis jeune! je suis jolie!" a loud, solitary hiss protested against the +assertion with bitter significance. After an instant's consternation, +which held both the actors and audience silent, she added, with the +exquisite grace and dignity which survived the youth and beauty to which +she could no longer even pretend, "Je suis Mademoiselle Mars!" and the +whole house broke out in acclamations, and rang with the applause due to +what the incomparable artiste still was and the memory of all that she +had been.]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"><span class="smcap">New York</span>, February 21, 1833.<a name="Page_567" id="Page_567" ></a><span class="pagenum">[567]</span></p> + +<p>It is a long time since I have written to you, my dearest H——.... +My work is incessant, ... and there is no end to the breathless +hurry of occupation we pass our days in. Here is already a break +since I began this letter, for we are now in Philadelphia, on our +way to Washington, and it is Thursday, the 3d of March.... It has +been matter of serious regret to me that I have not, from the very +first day of my becoming a worker for wages, looked more into the +details of my earnings and spendings. I have felt this particularly +lately from circumstances relative to V——'s position, which is a +very sad one, from which I have been very anxious to relieve +her.... All I know at present is, that since we have been here in +America our earnings have already been sufficient to enable us to +live in tolerably decent comfort on the Continent.... Do you know, +dearest H——, that it is not impossible that I may never return to +England to reside there. See it again, I will, please God to grant +me life and eyes, but the state of my father's property in Covent +Garden is such that it seems more than likely that he may never be +able to return to England without risking the little which these +last toilsome years will have enabled him to earn for the support +of his own and my mother's old age. He will be compelled, in all +likelihood, to settle and die abroad, as my uncle John did, by the +liabilities of that ruinous possession of theirs, the first theater +of London. When first my father communicated this chance to me, and +expressed his determination, should the affairs of the theater +remain in their present situation, to buy a small farm in Normandy, +and go and live there, my heart sank terribly. This was very +different from my girlish dream of a life of lonely independence +among the Alps, or by the Mediterranean; and the idea of living +entirely out of England seems to me now very sad for all of us.... +However, there are earth and skies out of England. What does Imogen +say?—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I prithee think, there's livers out of Britain;"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and if God vouchsafe me my faculties, and I can bid farewell to +this life of distasteful toil, I have visions of studies and +pursuits which I think might make existence very happy in a farm in +Normandy, though such might not have been my own choice.... What +special inquiries did you wish me to make about General Washington? +I was, when at Washington, within fifteen miles of Mount Vernon, +his home and bury<a name="Page_568" id="Page_568" ></a><span class="pagenum">[568]</span>ing-place, but could not make time to go thither. +I have one of his autograph letters, and if there be any indication +of character in handwriting—which I hope to goodness there is +not—it certainly exists in his, for a firmer, clearer, and fairer +hand I never saw—an excellent, honest handwriting. His likeness +confronts one at every corner here; not only at every street +corner, where he lends his countenance to the frequenters of +drinking-houses, but over every chimney-piece in every +sitting-room. He is like the frogs of the old Egyptian plague, +except that they were in the king's chamber, where he was too good +a Republican ever to have been.</p> + +<p>I am amused at your summing up your account of the restless and +perturbed state of poor Ireland by saying, "After all, I believe +America is the land of peace and quiet." It seems to me, who am +here, that everything at this moment threatens change and +disintegration in this country. It is impossible to imagine more +menacing elements of discord and disunion than those which exist in +the opposite and antagonistic interests of its southern and +northern provinces, and the anomalous mixture of aristocratic +feeling and democratic institutions.... God bless you, my dear +H——. I will write to you soon again; if possible, before the +breathing-time this snow-storm is giving us is over.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Ever affectionately yours,</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">New York</span>, April 3, 1833.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>... I am working very hard, what with rehearsing, acting, studying +new parts, devising new dresses, and attending—which, of course, I +am obliged also to do—to the claims of the society in which we are +living, and my time is so full that I barely contrive to fulfill +all my duties and answer all the claims made upon me.... The spring +is in the sky, and in the air her soft smile and sweet breath are +gladdening the world; but the process of vegetation is much later +in beginning, and much more rapid in its operations when they do +begin here, than with us. Though the last three days have been as +hot as our midsummer weather, the trees are yet leafless and +budless—as dry and unpromising-looking as they were in mid-winter; +and, indeed, the transition from winter to summer is almost +instantaneous here. The spring does not stand coaxing and beckoning +the shy summer to the woods and fields as in our country, but while +winter yet seems lord of the <a name="Page_569" id="Page_569" ></a><span class="pagenum">[569]</span>ascendant, and his white robes are +still covering land and water, suddenly the summer looks down upon +the earth from the cloudless sky, and, as by magic, the ice melts, +the snow evaporates, the trees are clothed with green, the woods +are full of flowers, and the whole world breaks out into a +hallelujah of warmth, beauty, and blossoming like mid-July in our +deliberate climate. This again lasts, as it were, but a day; the +sun presently becomes so powerful that the world withers away under +the intense heat, the flowers and shrubs fade, and instead of +screening and refreshing the earth, are themselves scorched and +parched with the glaring fierceness of the sky; the ground cracks, +the watercourses dry up, the rivers shrink in their beds, and every +human creature that can flies from the lowlands and the cities to +go up into the north or to the mountains to find breath, shelter, +and refreshment from the sultry curse. Then comes the autumn, and +that is most glorious; not soft and sad as ours, but to the very +threshold of winter bright, warm, lovely, and gorgeous. Two seasons +remain to our earthly year, remembrances, I think, of Paradise; the +spring in Italy, and autumn in America....</p> + +<p>You ask me how I "fit in" to my American audiences? Why, very +kindly indeed. At first they seemed to me rather cold, and I felt +this more with regard to my father than myself, but I think they +have grown to like us; I certainly have grown to like them, and +their applause satisfies me amply.... I heard yesterday of one of +Sir Thomas Lawrence's prints of me which was carried by a peddler +beyond the Alleghany Mountains [the Alleghany Mountains then were +further than the Rocky Mountains are now from the Atlantic +seaboard], and bought at an egregious price by a young engineer, +who with fifteen others went out there upon some railroad +construction business, were bidding for it at auction in that +wilderness, where they themselves were gazed at, as prodigies of +strange civilization, by the half-savage inhabitants of the region. +That touched and pleased me very much.... We are going to act here +till the 12th of this month, when we go to Boston, where we shall +remain for a month; after which we return here for a week, and then +proceed to Philadelphia by the 1st of June, where we intend closing +our professional labors for the summer. Thence we shall probably go +to Niagara and the Canadas. My father has talked of spending a +little quiet time in Rhode Island, where the weather is cool and we +might recruit a little; but there does not seem much certainty +about our plans at present. In the autumn we shall begin our +progress toward New Or<a name="Page_570" id="Page_570" ></a><span class="pagenum">[570]</span>leans, where we shall probably winter, and +act our way back here by the spring, when I hope and trust we shall +return to England.... The book of Harriet Martineau's which you +bade me read is delightful. I have not quite finished it yet, for I +have scarcely any time at all for reading; for want of the habit of +thinking and reading on such subjects I find the political economy +a little stiff now and then, though the clearness and simplicity +with which it is treated in this story are admirable. I did not +know that I was supposed to be the original of Letitia.... God +bless you, my dearest H——.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +I am ever your most affectionate,</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p></div> + +<p>"For Each and for All" was, I think, the name of the volume taken from +Miss Martineau's admirable series of political economy tales, which my +friend, Miss S——, sent me. The heroine of the story is a young +actress, and Miss Martineau once told me that she had derived some +slight suggestion of the character from me.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">New York</span>, Friday, April 10, 1833.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>... On Monday last I acted Lady Macbeth; on Tuesday, Lady Townley; +on Wednesday, Belvidera; and last night, Portia, and Mary Copp in +"Charles II." This is pretty hard work. To-morrow we start for +Boston, which we shall reach on Sunday, and Monday our work begins +there.... I think four nights a week as much as either my father or +myself ought to work, and as much as we really can work profitably, +the rest being money taken from our capital—<i>i.e.</i>, our health. +But in Boston we shall act for three weeks or a month every night +but the Saturdays. [The days when four or five performances a week +were considered a sufficient exertion for popular actors or singers +are far enough in the past, and now there seems to be no limit to +the capacity of such artists for earning money by the exercise of +their talents. Five and six performances a week are the normal +number now expected from great European stars, or rather those +which great European stars expect to give and to be paid for. Their +health is one invariable sacrifice to this over-work, and their +artistic excellence a still more grievous one. It has been asked +why artists invariably return to Europe comparatively coarse and +vulgar in the style of their performances, and the result is +attributed to the want of refined taste and critical judgment of +the American audiences—in my opinion very unjustly, for if <a name="Page_571" id="Page_571" ></a><span class="pagenum">[571]</span>want of +knowledge and nice perception in the public induces carelessness +and indifference in performers, the grasping greed of gain and +incessant over-exertion, mental and physical, for the sake of +satisfying it, is a far more certain cause of artistic +deterioration. During Madame Ristori's last visit to America, I +went to see a morning performance of "Elizabeta d'Inglterra" by +her. Arriving at the theater half an hour before the time announced +for the performance, I found notices affixed to the entrances, +stating that the beginning was unavoidably delayed by Madame +Ristori's non-arrival. The crowd of expectant spectators occupied +their seats and bore this prolonged postponement with +American—<i>i.e.</i>, unrivaled—patience, good-temper, and civility. +We were encouraged by two or three pieces of information from some +official personage, who from the stage assured us that the moment +Madame Ristori arrived (she was coming by railroad from Baltimore) +the play should begin. Then came a telegram, she was coming; then +an announcement, she was come; and driving from the terminus +straight to the theater, tired and harassed herself with the delay, +she dressed herself and appeared before her audience, went through +a part of extraordinary length and difficulty and exertion—almost, +indeed, a monologue—including the intolerable fatigue and hurry of +four or five entire changes of costume, and as the curtain dropped +rushed off to disrobe and catch a train to New York, where she was +to act the next morning, if not the evening, of that same day. I +had seen Madame Ristori in this part in England, and was shocked at +the great difference in the merit of her performance. Every +particle of careful elaboration and fine detail of workmanship was +gone; the business of the piece was hurried through, with +reference, of course, only to the time in which it could be +achieved; and of Madame Ristori's once fine delineation of the +character, which, when I first saw it, atoned for the little merit +of the piece itself, nothing remained but the broad claptrap points +in the several principal situations, made coarse, and not nearly +even as striking, by the absence of due preparation and working up +to them, the careless rendering of everything else, and the +slurring over of the finer minutiæ and more delicate indications of +the whole character. It was a very sad spectacle to me.]</p> + +<p>Besides your letter, the poor old <i>Pacific</i> (the ship that brought +us to America) brought me something else to-day. While Washington +Irving was sitting with me, a message came from the mate of the +<i>Pacific</i> with a large box of mould for me. I had it brought in, +and asking Irving if he knew what it was, <a name="Page_572" id="Page_572" ></a><span class="pagenum">[572]</span>"A bit of the old soil," +said he; and that it was.... Washington Irving was sure to have +guessed right as to my treasure, and I was not ashamed to greet it +with tears before him.... He is so sensible, sound, and +straightforward in his way of seeing everything, and at the same +time so full of hopefulness, so simple, unaffected, true, and good, +that it is a privilege to converse with him, for which one is the +wiser, the happier and the better....</p> + +<p>Here is Monday, April 15th, Boston, my dear H——. We arrived here +yesterday evening, and in the course of this morning I have already +received fourteen visitors, all of whom I shall have to go and +waste my time with in return for their kind waste of theirs upon +me.... To-morrow I begin my work with "Fazio" and go to a party +afterward....</p> + +<p class="dateline">Tuesday, 16th.</p> + +<p>... This morning I have been to rehearsal, and out shopping, and +received crowds of strangers who come and call upon us.... To-night +I make my first appearance here in "Fazio," and we hear the theater +will be crammed, and I am going to a party after that dreadful +play; not by way of delight, but of duty, and a severe one it will +be. To-morrow I act Mrs. Haller, Thursday Lady Teazle, and Friday +Bianca again; Saturday is a blessed holiday.... I have finished +Smith's "Virginia," which I found rather tiresome toward the end. I +have finished Harriet Martineau's political-economy story, which I +liked exceedingly. I am reading a small volume of Brewster's on +"Natural Magic," which entertains me very much; but I am dreadfully +cramped for time, and my poor mind goes like a half-tended garden, +which every now and then makes me feel sad.</p> + +<p>You would have been pleased, dear H——, if you had heard +Washington Irving's answer to me the other day when, in talking +with him of my profession and my distaste for it, I complained of +the little leisure it left me for study and improving myself, for +reading, writing, and the occupations that were congenial to me. +"Well," he said, "you are living, you are seeing men and things, +you are seeing the world, you are acquiring materials and heaping +together observations and experience and wisdom, and by and by, +when with fame you have acquired independence and retire from these +labors, you will begin another and a brighter course with matured +powers. I know of no one whose life has such a promise in it as +yours." Oh! H——, I almost felt hopeful while he spoke so to +me....</p></div> + +<p><a name="Page_573" id="Page_573" ></a><span class="pagenum">[573]</span>[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.'"]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>Good-by, and God bless you, dearest H——.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +I am affectionately yours,</p><p class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Fanny Kemble</span>. +</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Boston</span>, Sunday, April 21, 1833.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dear Mrs. Jameson</span>, +</p> + +<p>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 <a name="Page_574" id="Page_574" ></a><span class="pagenum">[574]</span>the +dreadful unquietness of our life, and long for a few moments' rest +of body and of mind.</p> + +<p>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....</p> + +<p>Only think! a book was sent to me from Philadelphia the other day +which proved to be the "Diary of an Ennuyée." 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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....</p> + +<p>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 <a name="Page_575" id="Page_575" ></a><span class="pagenum">[575]</span>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!</p> + +<p class="yours"> +I am ever yours, most truly,</p><p class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Fanny Kemble</span>. +</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">New York</span>, Friday, May 24, 1833.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>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....</p> + +<p>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.</p></div> + +<p>[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.]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>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 ex<a name="Page_576" id="Page_576" ></a><span class="pagenum">[576]</span>quisite 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,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There is no art to read the mind's construction in the face,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <a name="Page_577" id="Page_577" ></a><span class="pagenum">[577]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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....</p> + +<p>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 £2000—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.</p> + +<p>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 <a name="Page_578" id="Page_578" ></a><span class="pagenum">[578]</span>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....</p> + +<p>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....</p> + +<p>God bless you, dear friend! I am ever most truly yours,</p> + +<p class="signature">F. A. K.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"><span class="smcap">New York</span>, Sunday, June 24, 1833.</p> + +<p>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....</p> + +<p>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....</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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 hu<a name="Page_579" id="Page_579" ></a><span class="pagenum">[579]</span>man 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.</p></div> + +<p>[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.]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>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....</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Believe me ever yours truly,</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p></div> + +<p class="center gap"><span class="smcap">To Miss Fitzhugh</span>.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="smcap">Montreal</span>, July 24, 1833.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest Emily</span>, +</p> + +<p>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 <a name="Page_580" id="Page_580" ></a><span class="pagenum">[580]</span>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....</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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....</p> + +<p>Good-by, my dearest Emily. I am always affectionately yours,</p> + +<p class="signature">F. A. K.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<a name="Page_581" id="Page_581" ></a><span class="pagenum">[581]</span> +<span class="smcap">Steamboat St. Patrick, on the St. Lawrence</span >, +August 17, 1833.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dearest H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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," "Eleänore," 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.</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>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 <a name="Page_582" id="Page_582" ></a><span class="pagenum">[582]</span>any such thing, +and that it was nothing but a bragging boast of the Americans.</p> + +<p>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.</p></div> + +<p>[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."]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <a name="Page_583" id="Page_583" ></a><span class="pagenum">[583]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<a name="Page_584" id="Page_584" ></a><span class="pagenum">[584]</span>pressed myself, my delight was so intense that I really could +hardly bear to come away.</p> + +<p>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——.</p> + +<p>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.</p></div> + +<p>[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 <a name="Page_585" id="Page_585" ></a><span class="pagenum">[585]</span>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.]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>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.</p></div> + +<p>[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.]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <a name="Page_586" id="Page_586" ></a><span class="pagenum">[586]</span>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!</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Ever affectionately yours,</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p></div> + +<p class="center gap"><span class="smcap">To Mrs. Jameson</span>.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"><span class="smcap">New York</span>, Tuesday, October 15, 1833.</p> + +<p>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....</p> + +<p>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 <a name="Page_587" id="Page_587" ></a><span class="pagenum">[587]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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,</p> + +<p class="signature">F. A. K.</p> + +<p>I noted the altered frontispiece of my little book.</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">Boston</span>, April 16, 1834.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">Dear Mrs. Jameson</span>, +</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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....</p> + +<p>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 <a name="Page_588" id="Page_588" ></a><span class="pagenum">[588]</span>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.</p> + +<p>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!"</p></div> + +<p>[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.]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <a name="Page_589" id="Page_589" ></a><span class="pagenum">[589]</span>you can, the shocking +contrast between all this and the silent sick-room, to which I went +straight from the stage....</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +I am ever yours truly,</p><p class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Fanny Kemble</span>. +</p> + + +<p class="datelinenew"> +<span class="smcap">New York</span>, Thursday, April 24, 1834.</p><p class="salutation"> +<span class="smcap">My dear H——</span>, +</p> + +<p>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....</p> + +<p>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 <a name="Page_590" id="Page_590" ></a><span class="pagenum">[590]</span>H——. We shall meet erelong, and in the midst +of great sorrow that will be a great joy to</p> + +<p class="yours"> +Yours ever affectionately,</p><p class="signature"> +F. A. K. +</p> + + +<p>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.</p></div> + +<p style="margin-top: 1.5em;">My aunt died in consequence of an injury to the spine, received by the +overturning of our carriage in our summer tour to Niagara.</p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 1.5em;">I was married in Philadelphia on the 7th of June, 1834, to Mr. Pierce +Butler, of that city.</p> + + + +<p class="center biggap">THE END.</p> + + +<hr /><p><a name="Page_591" id="Page_591" ></a><span class="pagenum">[591]</span></p> +<h2><a name="INDEX" id="INDEX"></a>INDEX.</h2> + +<div class="index"> +<ul class="IX"><li> +Aberdeen, Lord, Lawrence's picture of, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>.</li> +<li>Abbot, Mr., his failure as <i>Romeo</i>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>a tumble, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>;</li> +<li>helping Covent Garden, <a href="#Page_464">464</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Abbotsford, appearance after Scott's death, <a href="#Page_264">264</a>, <a href="#Page_265">265</a>.</li> +<li>"Abbot, The," <a href="#Page_402">402</a>.</li> +<li>Abeken, <a href="#Page_339">339</a>.</li> +<li>Aberdeen, Lord, <a href="#Page_326">326</a>.</li> +<li>Abingdon, Mrs., <a href="#Page_258">258</a>.</li> +<li>"Adam Blair," <a href="#Page_444">444</a>.</li> +<li>Addlestone, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_418">418</a>, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>.</li> +<li><i>Adorni</i>, in "The Maid of Honor," <a href="#Page_391">391</a>.</li> +<li><i>Age, The</i>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>its editor thrashed by Charles Kemble, <a href="#Page_310">310</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Alaba, General, <a href="#Page_486">486</a>.</li> +<li>Alfieri, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</li> +<li>Algeciras, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>.</li> +<li>Allen, Sir William, <a href="#Page_526">526</a>, <a href="#Page_527">527</a>, <a href="#Page_529">529</a>.</li> +<li>Allison, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.</li> +<li>Alvanley, Lord, contrasted with Stephenson, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>.</li> +<li>Amelia, Princess, presents a necklace to Mrs. Charles Kemble, <a href="#Page_449">449</a>.</li> +<li>America, incident of Fanny Kemble's last public reading in, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>talking of going to, <a href="#Page_425">425</a>;</li> +<li>what it was <i>not</i>, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>;</li> +<li>Fanny Kemble's thoughts of, <a href="#Page_483">483</a>;</li> +<li>climate of, <a href="#Page_535">535</a>;</li> +<li>landing at New York, <a href="#Page_535">535</a>;</li> +<li>flies and mosquitoes, <a href="#Page_541">541</a>;</li> +<li>horse-racing in, <a href="#Page_577">577</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>"Andromaque," <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>.</li> +<li>Angerstein's Gallery, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>, <a href="#Page_484">484</a>.</li> +<li>"<i>Anglaises pour rire, Les</i>," <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</li> +<li>"Anna Bolena," <a href="#Page_428">428</a>, <a href="#Page_444">444</a>.</li> +<li>Anglo-Saxons, John Kemble's history of, <a href="#Page_505">505</a>.</li> +<li>Anson, Colonel, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>.</li> +<li>"Antonio," <a href="#Page_351">351</a>.</li> +<li>Antonio, Countess St., <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>.</li> +<li>Antonio, Marc, <a href="#Page_528">528</a>.</li> +<li>Apsley House, windows smashed, <a href="#Page_461">461</a>.</li> +<li>Ardgillan, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>, <a href="#Page_329">329</a>, <a href="#Page_348">348</a>, <a href="#Page_363">363</a>, <a href="#Page_457">457</a>.</li> +<li>Ariel, Goethe compared with, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>.</li> +<li><a name="ind_arkwright"></a>Arkwright, Mrs. Robert, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>Robert, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Arnold, Mr., <a href="#Page_336">336</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>speeches on theatre patents, <a href="#Page_339">339</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Art, a few words on, <a href="#Page_476">476</a>.</li> +<li>"Artaxerxes," Miss Sheriff's <i>début</i> in, <a href="#Page_464">464</a>.</li> +<li>Artist Life in England, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>.</li> +<li>Arundel, House of, <a href="#Page_265">265</a>.</li> +<li>Ashburton, Lord and Lady, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>.</li> +<li>Ashley, Wm., Earl of Shaftesbury, married to Miss Bailey, <a href="#Page_357">357</a>.</li> +<li>Augustine, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>.</li> +<li>Augustin's Gallery, <a href="#Page_442">442</a>.</li> +<li>Austen, Jane, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>her novels, <a href="#Page_441">441</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Assisi, Francis de, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>.</li> +<li>Aston Hall, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li> +<li>Aston, Clinton, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>.</li></ul> +<ul class="IX"><li> +Bacon, Mr., <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>his abusive critique in the <i>Times</i> of Fanny Kemble's acting, <a href="#Page_464">464</a>, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>;</li> +<li>Editor of the <i>Times</i>, <a href="#Page_519">519</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Bagot, Sir Charles, denial of the existence of Magara, <a href="#Page_582">582</a>.</li> +<li>Bailie, <a href="#Page_488">488</a>.</li> +<li>Baillie, "Count Basil," <a href="#Page_342">342</a>.</li> +<li>Baillie, Miss Joanna, writes the part of "Jane de Montfort" especially for Mrs. Siddons, <a href="#Page_349">349</a>.</li> +<li>Ballantyne, Scott's notes to, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>his unfavorable criticisms of Fanny Kemble, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>, <a href="#Page_265">265</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Baltimore, appearance of, <a href="#Page_560">560</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>beauty of its women, <a href="#Page_562">562</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Balzac, "Scenes of Parisian Life," <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.</li> +<li>Bannisters, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>, <a href="#Page_451">451</a>, <a href="#Page_454">454</a>.</li> +<li>Barham, his comical poem on "Henri Trois," <a href="#Page_484">484</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>critique of "Katharine of Cleves," <a href="#Page_493">493</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Baring, Mr. and Lady Harriet, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>.</li> +<li>Bartley, timidity about success of "The Hunchback," <a href="#Page_377">377</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>hearing Knowles read "The Hunchback," <a href="#Page_390">390</a>;</li> +<li>plan for a new theatrical speculation in Covent Garden, <a href="#Page_553">553</a>;</li> +<li>"cutting" "The Star of Seville" for the Stage, <a href="#Page_495">495</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Barton, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>, <a href="#Page_326">326</a>.</li> +<li>Bath, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>, <a href="#Page_416">416</a>.</li> +<li>Batthyany, Count, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>Countess, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Bayard, <a href="#Page_506">506</a>.</li> +<li>Bayley, Miss, marriage to Earl of Shaftesbury, <a href="#Page_357">357</a>.</li> +<li><i>Beatrice</i>, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>, <a href="#Page_341">341</a>, <a href="#Page_344">344</a>, <a href="#Page_516">516</a>.</li> +<li>Beauclerc, the young ladies, chaperoned by Duchess of St. Albans, <a href="#Page_392">392</a>.</li> +<li><a name="ind_beaufort"></a>Beaufort, drives the coach, <a href="#Page_330">330</a>.</li> +<li>Beau, Madame le, <a href="#Page_491">491</a>.</li> +<li>Becher, Lady, (see <a href="#ind_oneill">O'Neill, Miss</a>), anecdotes of, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li> +<li>Becher, Sir (William Wrixon), married to Miss O'Neill, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</li> +<li>Bedford, Duke of, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>.</li> +<li>Beechey, Sir William, <a href="#Page_393">393</a>.</li> +<li>"Beggar's Opera, The," Miss Sheriff in, <a href="#Page_471">471</a>.</li> +<li>Bellamy, Mrs., rivalry with Garrick, <a href="#Page_452">452</a>.</li> +<li>Bellini, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>.</li> +<li><i>Belvidera</i>, first dress for, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>Fanny Kemble's dislike of the part, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>;</li> +<li>her second part, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>;</li> +<li>in London, <a href="#Page_460">460</a>, <a href="#Page_469">469</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Belvoir Castle burned, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.</li> +<li>Belzoni, Madame, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>.</li> +<li><i>Benedict</i>, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>.</li> +<li><a name="Page_592" id="Page_592" ></a><span class="pagenum">[592]</span> +Bennett, as <i>Laval</i>, <a href="#Page_508">508</a>; in "Francis I.," <a href="#Page_509">509</a>.</li> +<li>Bentham, Jeremy, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>his philanthropy, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>;</li> +<li>John Kemble's admiration for, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Beowulf, <a href="#Page_503">503</a>.</li> +<li>Berquin, Juvenile dramas, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>.</li> +<li>Berry, the Misses, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li> +<li>Bessborough, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</li> +<li>Biagio's Preface to Dante, <a href="#Page_448">448</a>.</li> +<li>Biagioli, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>.</li> +<li><i>Bianca</i>, <a href="#Page_325">325</a>, <a href="#Page_332">332</a>, <a href="#Page_523">523</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>Mrs. Kemble's opinion of Fanny Kemble in, <a href="#Page_333">333</a>, <a href="#Page_386">386</a>, <a href="#Page_414">414</a>, <a href="#Page_469">469</a>, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>, <a href="#Page_483">483</a>;</li> +<li>Fanny Kemble's best part, <a href="#Page_483">483</a>;</li> +<li>her first play in New York, <a href="#Page_536">536</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Birmingham, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li> +<li>Bishop, the murderer, <a href="#Page_462">462</a>.</li> +<li>Bishop, his opera "Cortex," <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li> +<li>Blackheath, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>.</li> +<li>Blackshaw, Mrs., <a href="#Page_37">37</a>.</li> +<li>Blackwood, Mrs., <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</li> +<li>Blaise Castle, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>.</li> +<li>Blangini, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>.</li> +<li>Boaden, his life of Sarah Siddons, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>.</li> +<li>"Bonaparte," the play, <a href="#Page_366">366</a>.</li> +<li>Bonaparte, Napoleon, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>melodrama on his life, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>;</li> +<li>at St. Helena, Fanny Kemble's verses on, <a href="#Page_441">441</a>;</li> +<li>letters to Joséphine, <a href="#Page_462">462</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Bonheur, Rosa, <a href="#Page_345">345</a>.</li> +<li>"Borderers, The," <a href="#Page_508">508</a>, <a href="#Page_509">509</a>, <a href="#Page_513">513</a>.</li> +<li>Bordogni, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>.</li> +<li>Boston, enthusiasm at Fanny Kemble's farewell engagement, <a href="#Page_588">588</a>.</li> +<li>Bouilland, Mr., experiments on Brains, <a href="#Page_418">418</a>.</li> +<li>Boulogne, Fanny Kemble at school at, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>farewell to, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Bourbon, the Younger of the Orleans branch, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>.</li> +<li>Boyd, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>, <a href="#Page_479">479</a>.</li> +<li>Bradshaw, Mrs. (Maria Tree), in "Hernani" at Bridgewater House, <a href="#Page_376">376</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>in <i>Clari and Mary Copp</i>, <a href="#Page_396">396</a>, <a href="#Page_497">497</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Braham, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>sings "Tom Tug," <a href="#Page_395">395</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Brain, anatomy of the, <a href="#Page_528">528</a>.</li> +<li>Brand, Mr., <a href="#Page_346">346</a>.</li> +<li>Brandon, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>.</li> +<li>Bridgewater House, <a href="#Page_374">374</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>"Hernani" at, <a href="#Page_376">376</a>;</li> +<li>first rehearsal of "Hernani" at, <a href="#Page_396">396</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Brighton, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>, <a href="#Page_325">325</a>, <a href="#Page_327">327</a>, <a href="#Page_466">466</a>.</li> +<li>Bristol, <a href="#Page_416">416</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>market at, <a href="#Page_424">424</a>;</li> +<li>Abbey church, <a href="#Page_425">425</a>;</li> +<li>unprosperous business, <a href="#Page_428">428</a>;</li> +<li>trouble at theatre, <a href="#Page_432">432</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>British Canada, <a href="#Page_346">346</a>.</li> +<li>Brougham, Lord, in Charles Kemble's suit, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_332">332</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>his mother, <a href="#Page_344">344</a>, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>;</li> +<li>a man of steel, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Browning, Robert, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>compared with Shelley, <a href="#Page_384">384</a>;</li> +<li>"Blot on the Scutcheon" and Pippa Passes, <i>ib.</i></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Brunet, in "<i>Les Anglaises pour Rire</i>," <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</li> +<li>Bruno, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>.</li> +<li>Brunswick, Caroline of, Princess of Wales, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>.</li> +<li>Brunswick, Duke of, at Brunswick House, <a href="#Page_422">422</a>.</li> +<li>Brunton, manager of theatre at Bristol, in trouble, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>his benefit, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>;</li> +<li>effort by Charles Kemble's Company to help him, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>;</li> +<li>in prison, <a href="#Page_434">434</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Brunton, Miss (Lady Craven), <a href="#Page_292">292</a>.</li> +<li>Bryant, William Cullen, poetry of, <a href="#Page_545">545</a>.</li> +<li>Buckingham Gate, see Jones Street, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>.</li> +<li>Buckinghamshire, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>, <a href="#Page_297">297</a>, <a href="#Page_304">304</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a>.</li> +<li>Budna, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>.</li> +<li>Burney, Dr., <a href="#Page_327">327</a>.</li> +<li>Burk, the murderer, <a href="#Page_462">462</a>.</li> +<li>Burns, Robert, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>adversely criticised, <a href="#Page_335">335</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Bury St. Edmunds, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>Henry Kemble at, <a href="#Page_482">482</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Butler, Lady Eleanor, <a href="#Page_345">345</a>.</li> +<li>Butler, Pierce, marriage to Fanny Kemble, June <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>4, <a href="#Page_590">590</a>.</li> +<li>Byng, Frederick, <a href="#Page_485">485</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>a long call, <a href="#Page_485">485</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Byron, Lord, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>"Cain," <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_333">333</a>;</li> +<li>"Manfred," <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_333">333</a>;</li> +<li>peculiar combination of vices and virtues, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>;</li> +<li>pernicious influence on the young, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>;</li> +<li>play of "Werner," <a href="#Page_308">308</a>;</li> +<li>Mrs. John Kemble's impressions of, <a href="#Page_330">330</a>;</li> +<li>"Don Juan," <a href="#Page_333">333</a>;</li> +<li>"Lucifer," <a href="#Page_333">333</a>;</li> +<li>"Childe Harold," <a href="#Page_333">333</a>;</li> +<li>Sundry opinions on, <a href="#Page_333">333</a>;</li> +<li>his works compared with Hope's "Anastasius," <a href="#Page_337">337</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Byron, Lady, her influence on Mrs. Jameson, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>her appearance, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>;</li> +<li>deprecates the publication of a new edition of Byron's works, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li> +Calcott, Lady, <a href="#Page_506">506</a>.</li> +<li>Calcutta, Henry Kemble, Collector of the Port of, <a href="#Page_323">323</a>.</li> +<li>Calderon, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>.</li> +<li><i>Caliban</i>, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>.</li> +<li><i>Calista</i>, in "The Fair Penitent," <a href="#Page_318">318</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>a failure, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>, <a href="#Page_323">323</a>, <a href="#Page_325">325</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Cambridge, Duchess of, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>.</li> +<li>Camden Place, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>.</li> +<li>"Camiola," Fanny Kemble in, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>, <a href="#Page_367">367</a>, <a href="#Page_385">385</a>, <a href="#Page_388">388</a>, <a href="#Page_391">391</a>.</li> +<li>Campbell, his life of Sarah Siddons, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>life of Lawrence, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>;</li> +<li>the poet, <a href="#Page_242">242</a>;</li> +<li>"Pleasures of Hope," <a href="#Page_358">358</a>;</li> +<li>application to Mrs. Fitzhugh for Mrs. Siddons' letters, <a href="#Page_451">451</a>;</li> +<li>life of Mrs. Sarah Siddons, <a href="#Page_504">504</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Candia, M. de, see <a href="#ind_mario">Mario</a>, <a href="#Page_497">497</a>.</li> +<li>Canizzaro, Duchess of, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.</li> +<li>Canning, Lawrence's picture of, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>.</li> +<li>Carey, admiration for Mrs. Jameson's works, <a href="#Page_579">579</a>.</li> +<li>Carlisle, Lord, <a href="#Page_418">418</a>.</li> +<li>Carlo, <a href="#Page_505">505</a>.</li> +<li>Carlyle, his article in <i>Edinburgh Review</i>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>biography of Sterling, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Cartwright, Mr., <a href="#Page_320">320</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>a pleasant evening at his house, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Cassiobury Park, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a>, <a href="#Page_397">397</a>, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>.</li> +<li>Castlereagh, Lord Grey, haunted by a vision of, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>.</li> +<li>Catalani, her last public appearance, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>her last appearance, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Catons, The, Lady Wellesley's father and mother, <a href="#Page_562">562</a>.</li> +<li>Catskills, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>.</li> +<li>Cavaliers, Ancient <i>vs.</i> Modern, <a href="#Page_527">527</a>.</li> +<li>Cavendish, Miss, on the <i>stay-at-home</i> sensation, <a href="#Page_393">393</a>.</li> +<li>Cavendish, Col. and Lady, <a href="#Page_471">471</a>.</li> +<li><a name="Page_593" id="Page_593" ></a><span class="pagenum">[593]</span> +Cawse, Miss, in "Artaxerxes," <a href="#Page_465">465</a>.</li> +<li>Célimène, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>.</li> +<li>Cenci, Beatrice, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>.</li> +<li>Chambers, the Brothers, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>"Vestiges of Creation," <i>ib.</i></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Channing, Essay on Milton, <a href="#Page_337">337</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>view of man's nature, <a href="#Page_362">362</a>;</li> +<li>his adversaries, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>;</li> +<li>on the relative merits of England and America, <a href="#Page_539">539</a>, <a href="#Page_559">559</a>;</li> +<li>appearance of, <a href="#Page_576">576</a>;</li> +<li>theatrical opinions, <a href="#Page_576">576</a>;</li> +<li>opinion of Miss Martineau's writings, <a href="#Page_578">578</a>;</li> +<li>infinite faith in a dead friend's happiness, <a href="#Page_589">589</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Chantrey, <a href="#Page_345">345</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>Sir Francis, his design of vase presented to Charles Kemble, <a href="#Page_354">354</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>"Characters of Shakespeare's Women," Mrs. Jameson's book on, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li> +<li><i>Charles de Bourbon</i>, Kemble as, <a href="#Page_508">508</a>.</li> +<li>Charles X., <a href="#Page_276">276</a>.</li> +<li>Charles I., his resting-place at Edge Hill, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li> +<li>Charles II., <a href="#Page_308">308</a>.</li> +<li>Charles, King, martyrdom of, <a href="#Page_499">499</a>.</li> +<li>Charles X., King of France, <a href="#Page_522">522</a>.</li> +<li>Charlotte, Queen, <a href="#Page_449">449</a>.</li> +<li>Chateaubriand, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</li> +<li>Chartier, Alin, <a href="#Page_462">462</a>.</li> +<li>Chatmoss, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>drained and healthy, <a href="#Page_530">530</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Cherubino, <a href="#Page_391">391</a>.</li> +<li>Chester, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>.</li> +<li>Chesterfield, Countess of, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>as an equestrian, <a href="#Page_471">471</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Cholera, in Edinburgh, <a href="#Page_500">500</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>in London, <a href="#Page_502">502</a>;</li> +<li>in Liverpool, <a href="#Page_529">529</a>;</li> +<li>in Boston, <a href="#Page_534">534</a>;</li> +<li>in Philadelphia, <i>ib.</i>;</li> +<li>in Baltimore, <i>ib.</i>;</li> +<li>in New York, <i>ib.</i></li> +</ul></li> +<li>"Cibber's Lives," <a href="#Page_462">462</a>.</li> +<li>Clairon, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>Garrick's opinion of, <a href="#Page_446">446</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Clanwilliam, Lord, Lawrence's picture of, <a href="#Page_422">422</a>.</li> +<li>Clarendon, Lord, puts Horace Twiss in Parliament, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>the Grove, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>;</li> +<li>influence in getting Horace Twiss into Parliament, <a href="#Page_335">335</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li><i>Clari</i>, Mrs. Bradshaw in, <a href="#Page_396">396</a>.</li> +<li>Class Prejudice to Actors, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.</li> +<li>Clay, Henry, <a href="#Page_549">549</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>Fanny Kemble's Letters of Introduction to, <a href="#Page_561">561</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Cleopatra, Queen, as a dramatic writer, <a href="#Page_447">447</a>.</li> +<li>Clifford, Lord de, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>.</li> +<li>Clint, picture of Cecilia Siddons, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>.</li> +<li>Clive, Mrs. Archer, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li> +<li>Cobb, Mrs. and Miss, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>.</li> +<li>Cobbe, Miss, her theory on the future existence of animals, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>.</li> +<li>Cobbett, article on in the <i>Examiner</i>, <a href="#Page_435">435</a>.</li> +<li>Cockrell, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>.</li> +<li>Coleridge, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</li> +<li>Collins' "Ode to the Passions," Liston reciting, <a href="#Page_460">460</a>.</li> +<li>Colnaghi, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>.</li> +<li>Combe, Cecilia, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>.</li> +<li>Combe, George, "the Apostle of Phrenology," <a href="#Page_151">151</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>author of "Constitution of Man," <i>ib.</i></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Combe, Andrew, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>works upon physiology, hygiene, and education of children, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>;</li> +<li>combing, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>;</li> +<li>his age, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>;</li> +<li>his anecdote of Scott's "feudal insanity," <a href="#Page_265">265</a>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>, <a href="#Page_412">412</a>;</li> +<li>on climbing, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>;</li> +<li>lectures in the Phrenological Museum, <a href="#Page_527">527</a>;</li> +<li>"Constitution of Man," <a href="#Page_530">530</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Communion service, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>.</li> +<li><i>Constance</i> selected for Fanny Kemble's benefit, <a href="#Page_359">359</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>success of, <a href="#Page_361">361</a>, <a href="#Page_417">417</a>;</li> +<li>Mrs. Siddons' sketch of, <a href="#Page_517">517</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>"Constitution of Man," <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_530">530</a>.</li> +<li>Contat, Mlle., <a href="#Page_258">258</a>.</li> +<li>Cooper, Fenimore, "The Borderers," <a href="#Page_508">508</a>, <a href="#Page_509">509</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>compared with Charles Kemble in "Venice Preserved," <a href="#Page_544">544</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Cornwall, Barry, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_345">345</a>, <a href="#Page_353">353</a>.</li> +<li>Cork, Lady, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>, <a href="#Page_372">372</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>vivacity at an advanced age, <a href="#Page_379">379</a>;</li> +<li>curious arrangement of her drawing-room, <i>ib.</i>;</li> +<li>"Ancient Cork," <i>ib.</i>;</li> +<li>"Memory," <i>ib.</i>;</li> +<li>idea of heaven, <i>ib.</i>;</li> +<li>propensity for taking that which was not hers, <a href="#Page_381">381</a>, <a href="#Page_389">389</a>;</li> +<li>little parties of, <a href="#Page_391">391</a>;</li> +<li>a noisy conversation, <a href="#Page_519">519</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>"Corrombona, Vittoria, Duchess of Bracciano," <a href="#Page_353">353</a>.</li> +<li>Cottin, Madame, <a href="#Page_332">332</a>.</li> +<li>Coutts, Mr., his fortune, <a href="#Page_391">391</a>.</li> +<li>Coutts, Miss Burdett, recipient of all Mr. Coutts' fortune, <a href="#Page_392">392</a>.</li> +<li>Covent Garden Chambers, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.</li> +<li>Covent Garden Theatre, Charles Kemble's partnership in, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>Weber at, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>;</li> +<li>Charles Kemble's liabilities in, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>;</li> +<li>a woman wanted, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>;</li> +<li>Covent Garden to be sold at auction, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>;</li> +<li>Theatre patent assailed, <a href="#Page_339">339</a>;</li> +<li>cutting down salaries, <a href="#Page_463">463</a>;</li> +<li>ruined at last, <a href="#Page_509">509</a>;</li> +<li>farewell to, <a href="#Page_520">520</a>;</li> +<li>turned into an opera house, <a href="#Page_521">521</a>;</li> +<li>burned down, <i>ib.</i></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Crabbe, as an unpoetical poet, <a href="#Page_385">385</a>.</li> +<li>Cramer, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>.</li> +<li>Craven Hill, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</li> +<li>Craven, Lady, <a href="#Page_292">292</a>.</li> +<li>Craven, Mr., in "Hernani," at Bridgewater House, <a href="#Page_376">376</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>in "Hernani," <a href="#Page_396">396</a>, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>, <a href="#Page_404">404</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Croly, <a href="#Page_390">390</a>.</li> +<li>Croton water in New York, <a href="#Page_537">537</a>.</li> +<li>Cromwell, marks of his cannon at Edge Hill, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li> +<li>Cumberland, Duke and Duchess of, at Bridgewater House, <a href="#Page_422">422</a>.</li> +<li>Cunard, Samuel, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>.</li> +<li>Cunarosa, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.</li></ul> +<ul class="IX"><li> +Dacre, Lord, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_348">348</a>, <a href="#Page_357">357</a>.</li> +<li>Dacre, Lady, <a href="#Page_341">341</a>, <a href="#Page_344">344</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>her accomplishments, <a href="#Page_345">345</a>;</li> +<li>her play of "Isaure," <a href="#Page_382">382</a>;</li> +<li>her play "Wednesday Morning," <a href="#Page_390">390</a>, <a href="#Page_393">393</a>:</li> +<li>in trouble about "Wednesday Morning," <a href="#Page_394">394</a>;</li> +<li>objections to language in "The Star of Seville," <a href="#Page_423">423</a>, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>, <a href="#Page_504">504</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Dall, Aunt (see <a href="#ind_kembleAd">Kemble, Adelaide</a>).</li> +<li>Dance, Miss, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>.</li> +<li>Dante, "The Intellect of Love," <a href="#Page_391">391</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>"Devils boiled in pitch," <a href="#Page_437">437</a>;</li> +<li>Biagio's Preface to, <a href="#Page_448">448</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>"Darnley," <a href="#Page_370">370</a>.</li> +<li>Daru's "History of Venice," <a href="#Page_466">466</a>, <a href="#Page_471">471</a>, <a href="#Page_506">506</a>, <a href="#Page_513">513</a>.</li> +<li>Davenport, Mrs., the <i>Nurse</i> in "Romeo and Juliet," <a href="#Page_219">219</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a>.</li> +<li>Davy, Sir Humphry, <a href="#Page_461">461</a>, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>.</li> +<li>Dawkins, Major, <a href="#Page_362">362</a>; +<a name="Page_594" id="Page_594" ></a><span class="pagenum">[594]</span> +<ul class="IX"><li>desire for a good picture of Fanny Kemble, <a href="#Page_366">366</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Dawson, Miss, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>.</li> +<li>Dawson, Rt. Hon. George, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>.</li> +<li>Day, Mr., picture of an Italian Madonna, <a href="#Page_442">442</a>.</li> +<li>De Camp, Captain, goes to England, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>death, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>De Camp, Adelaide, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>dislike to seeing Fanny Kemble act, <a href="#Page_490">490</a>;</li> +<li>death, <a href="#Page_589">589</a>;</li> +<li>burial in Mount Orban's Cemetery, <a href="#Page_590">590</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>De Camp, Marie Theresa (see <a href="#ind_kembleMC">Kemble, Mrs. Charles</a>).</li> +<li>De Camp, Victoire, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>governess at Blackheath, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Delane, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>.</li> +<li>"De Montfort," <a href="#Page_349">349</a>.</li> +<li>Derby, Lord, incident with Miss Farren in "School for Scandal," <a href="#Page_452">452</a>.</li> +<li>"Der Freyschütz," <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>.</li> +<li>Descuillier, Madame, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>.</li> +<li><i>Desdemona</i>, Mme. Pasta in, <a href="#Page_428">428</a>.</li> +<li>Dessauer, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</li> +<li>"Destiny," <a href="#Page_389">389</a>.</li> +<li>Deterioration, Artistic, <a href="#Page_570">570</a>.</li> +<li>Devonshire, Duke of, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.</li> +<li>Devonshire House, <a href="#Page_361">361</a>.</li> +<li>Dévy, Madame, <a href="#Page_491">491</a>.</li> +<li>"Diary of an Ennuyée," <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.</li> +<li>"Dick," picture of Fanny Kemble, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>.</li> +<li>Dickens, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</li> +<li>Didear, Mr., unkind reception in Edinburgh, <a href="#Page_323">323</a>.</li> +<li>"Dionysius," <a href="#Page_239">239</a>.</li> +<li>Donkin, Lord Mayor, <a href="#Page_398">398</a>.</li> +<li>"Donna Sol," <a href="#Page_472">472</a>.</li> +<li>Donne, Wm., <a href="#Page_183">183</a>.</li> +<li>Dorchester, start for, <a href="#Page_449">449</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>arrival at, <i>ib</i>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Dorval, Madame, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.</li> +<li>Dover, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>.</li> +<li>Dramatic writers, women as, <a href="#Page_446">446</a>.</li> +<li>Drury Lane Theatre, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>patents assailed, <a href="#Page_339">339</a>, <a href="#Page_376">376</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Dublin, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>Fanny Kemble at, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>;</li> +<li>incident before leaving for London, <a href="#Page_272">272</a>;</li> +<li>her departure from, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>"Duchess of Pagliano," <a href="#Page_353">353</a>.</li> +<li><i>Duchess of Guise</i>, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>.</li> +<li>Dufferin, Lady, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>.</li> +<li>Du Lac, Sir Launcelot, <a href="#Page_327">327</a>.</li> +<li>Dumesnil, Garrick's opinion of in <i>Phœbe Rodogund</i> and <i>Hermione</i>, <a href="#Page_446">446</a>.</li> +<li>Dunbarton, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>.</li> +<li>Dupré, <a href="#Page_545">545</a>.</li> +<li>Duraset, Mr., generosity in helping Covent Garden, <a href="#Page_464">464</a>.</li> +<li>Dyce, Rev. Alexander, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>.</li></ul> +<ul class="IX"><li> +Eckermann, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>.</li> +<li>Edge Hill, Charles I.'s resting-place at, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li> +<li><i>Edinburgh Review</i>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.</li> +<li>Edinburgh, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>coldness of its audiences, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>,</li> +<li>Fanny Kemble's last days in, <a href="#Page_528">528</a>;</li> +<li>cholera in, <a href="#Page_500">500</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Edinburgh Castle, regalia of Scotland in, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>.</li> +<li>"Education of the People, The," <a href="#Page_388">388</a>.</li> +<li>Edward I., <a href="#Page_277">277</a>, <a href="#Page_297">297</a>.</li> +<li>Egerton, Lord Francis, see <a href="#ind_ellesmere">Ellesmere</a>.</li> +<li>Egerton, Lady Blanche, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>.</li> +<li>Egerton, Mr., declining the proposed accommodation at Covent Garden, <a href="#Page_464">464</a>.</li> +<li>Eldon, Lord, Chancellor in Charles Kemble's suit, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>.</li> +<li>Elizabeth, Queen, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>.</li> +<li>Elizabeth, Princess, at Bridgewater House, <a href="#Page_422">422</a>.</li> +<li><a name="ind_ellesmere"></a>Ellesmere, Earl and Countess of, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>Fanny Kemble's first friendship with, <a href="#Page_374">374</a>;</li> +<li>his epilogue to "Hernani," <a href="#Page_412">412</a>;</li> +<li>Hayter's picture of Fanny Kemble for, <a href="#Page_412">412</a>;</li> +<li>her high esteem for Lord Carlisle, <a href="#Page_418">418</a>;</li> +<li>translation of "Henri Trois," <a href="#Page_420">420</a>;</li> +<li>taking Mr. St. Aubin's part in "Hernani," <a href="#Page_421">421</a>;</li> +<li>purchases Hayter's drawings of Fanny Kemble in <i>Juliet</i>, <a href="#Page_588">588</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Ellis, letter from Lord Macaulay to, <a href="#Page_344">344</a>.</li> +<li>England, Queen of, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>.</li> +<li>England, King of, not particularly brilliant, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>.</li> +<li><a name="ind_essex"></a>Essex, Countess of, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>.</li> +<li>Essex, Earl of, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_397">397</a>.</li> +<li>Essex, Lady, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>befriending a street-singer, <a href="#Page_435">435</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li><i>Estrella</i>, in "The Star of Seville," <a href="#Page_514">514</a>.</li> +<li><i>Euphrasia</i>, Mrs. Siddons and Fanny Kemble as, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_322">322</a>, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>, <a href="#Page_483">483</a>.</li> +<li><i>Evander</i>, John Kemble as, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>.</li> +<li>Evans, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>.</li> +<li>Everett, Edward, about sermons in general, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>.</li> +<li>Evolena, Mount, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.</li> +<li><i>Examiner, The</i>, <a href="#Page_435">435</a>.</li> +<li>Exeter, start for, <a href="#Page_448">448</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>arrival at, <i>ib</i>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>"Exquisites, The," <a href="#Page_395">395</a>.</li> +<li>Extravagance of the Americans in flowers, <a href="#Page_540">540</a>.</li></ul> +<ul class="IX"><li> +Faith, Religious, <a href="#Page_476">476</a>.</li> +<li>Falkland, Lady, anecdote of her picture at Royal Academy, <a href="#Page_393">393</a>.</li> +<li>Farleigh, a comic actor, <a href="#Page_472">472</a>.</li> +<li>Farquhar's, Lady, party at, <a href="#Page_506">506</a>.</li> +<li>Fauldes tragedy, <a href="#Page_466">466</a>.</li> +<li>"Faust," <a href="#Page_138">138</a>, <a href="#Page_339">339</a>.</li> +<li>Farren, Miss, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>awkward incident with Lord Derby, <a href="#Page_452">452</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Faudier, Madame, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>.</li> +<li>"Fazio," <a href="#Page_323">323</a>, <a href="#Page_325">325</a>, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>Fanny Kemble's first appearance in, in America, <a href="#Page_572">572</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Fechter as <i>Hamlet</i>, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>his "get up" of <i>Othello</i>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>;</li> +<li>"Bel Demonio," <a href="#Page_353">353</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Fénelon, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>.</li> +<li>Ferguson, Sir Adam, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>.</li> +<li>Ferrier, Miss, author of "Marriage" and "Inheritance," <a href="#Page_260">260</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>"Destiny," <a href="#Page_389">389</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>"Fine People," <a href="#Page_455">455</a>.</li> +<li>Fires in New York, <a href="#Page_537">537</a>.</li> +<li>Fitzgerald, Edward, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>.</li> +<li>Fitzgerald, Mrs., <a href="#Page_342">342</a>, <a href="#Page_504">504</a>.</li> +<li>Fitzhugh, Emily, <a href="#Page_362">362</a>, <a href="#Page_365">365</a>, <a href="#Page_451">451</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>emotion at meeting Charles Kemble at Plymouth, <a href="#Page_451">451</a>;</li> +<li>Mrs. Siddons' letters, <a href="#Page_477">477</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Fitzhugh, Mrs., <a href="#Page_82">82</a>.</li> +<li>Fitzpatricks, The, Hayter's picture of, <a href="#Page_487">487</a>.</li> +<li>Flaxman, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.</li> +<li>Flore, Mlle., <a href="#Page_26">26</a>.</li> +<li>Flowers, American extravagance in, <a href="#Page_540">540</a>.</li> +<li>Foix, Gaston de, <a href="#Page_506">506</a>.</li> +<li>Forbes, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>.</li> +<li><a name="Page_595" id="Page_595" ></a><span class="pagenum">[595]</span> +Ford's "White Devil," <a href="#Page_353">353</a>.</li> +<li>Forest, M. de la, his accounts of Malibran, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>.</li> +<li>Forrester, Annie, Isabel, and Cecil, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>.</li> +<li>Forster, Johann Georg, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>.</li> +<li>Foscolo, Ugo, <a href="#Page_345">345</a>.</li> +<li>Foster, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_397">397</a>, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>.</li> +<li>Foster, Mrs., <a href="#Page_276">276</a>.</li> +<li>Fouqué, La Motte, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.</li> +<li>Fozzard, Capt., <a href="#Page_232">232</a>, <a href="#Page_389">389</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>riding-school, <a href="#Page_471">471</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>"Fra Diavolo," Miss Sheriff in, <a href="#Page_469">469</a>.</li> +<li>France, thoughts of living in the south of, <a href="#Page_392">392</a>.</li> +<li>"Francis I.," correcting the metre, <a href="#Page_341">341</a>, <a href="#Page_350">350</a>, <a href="#Page_355">355</a>, <a href="#Page_357">357</a>, <a href="#Page_396">396</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>sold to Wm. Murray for £4000, <a href="#Page_482">482</a>;</li> +<li>its publication, <a href="#Page_497">497</a>;</li> +<li>Murray's desire to publish without last scene, <a href="#Page_503">503</a>;</li> +<li>its effect when read in the greenroom of Covent Garden Theatre, <a href="#Page_503">503</a>;</li> +<li>the cast altered, <a href="#Page_503">503</a>;</li> +<li>preface to, <a href="#Page_504">504</a>;</li> +<li>cast upset the second time, <a href="#Page_504">504</a>;</li> +<li>prologue, <a href="#Page_505">505</a>;</li> +<li>postponed for a fortnight, <a href="#Page_510">510</a>;</li> +<li>its popularity due to the indulgence and curiosity of London audiences, <a href="#Page_518">518</a>;</li> +<li>played for first time, <a href="#Page_525">525</a>, <a href="#Page_526">526</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Francis, Lord, his play "Henri Trois" postponed, <a href="#Page_469">469</a>.</li> +<li><i>Françoise de Foix</i>, Fanny Kemble as, <a href="#Page_529">529</a>.</li> +<li>French Revolution of <a href="#Page_183">183</a>0, the, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>.</li> +<li>Fry, Mrs., her visits to Newgate, <a href="#Page_413">413</a>.</li></ul> +<ul class="IX"><li> +Gainsborough, his painting of Mrs. Siddons, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>.</li> +<li>Gall, his philosophy of phrenology, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>.</li> +<li>"Gamester, The," <a href="#Page_269">269</a>, <a href="#Page_427">427</a>, <a href="#Page_440">440</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>at Plymouth, <a href="#Page_446">446</a>;</li> +<li>at Southampton, <a href="#Page_454">454</a>;</li> +<li>Charles Kemble in, <a href="#Page_524">524</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Garcia, Marie (see <a href="#ind_malibran">Malibran</a>), as an artist, actress and singer, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>the sisters Malibran and Pauline Viardot, their accomplishments, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Garrick, his costume in "Macbeth," <a href="#Page_190">190</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>opinion of Clairon and Dumesnil, <a href="#Page_446">446</a>;</li> +<li>rivalry with Mrs. Bellamy, <a href="#Page_452">452</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Genius, what is it? <a href="#Page_477">477</a>.</li> +<li>Genlis, Madame de, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>.</li> +<li>George IV., anecdote of his picture at Royal Academy, <a href="#Page_393">393</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>at the Weymouth Theatre, <a href="#Page_449">449</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Gerard street, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>.</li> +<li>Ghosts, something about, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>.</li> +<li>"Giovanni di Procida," <a href="#Page_472">472</a>.</li> +<li>Giardano, <a href="#Page_442">442</a>.</li> +<li>Gibraltar, <a href="#Page_326">326</a>, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>.</li> +<li>Gibson, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>.</li> +<li>"Gilbert Gurney," <a href="#Page_170">170</a>.</li> +<li>Glasgow, the audiences at, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>.</li> +<li>"Glenarvon," <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.</li> +<li>Glengall, Lady, <a href="#Page_460">460</a>.</li> +<li>Gloucester, Duchess of, <a href="#Page_413">413</a>.</li> +<li>Gloucester, Duke and Duchess of, <a href="#Page_422">422</a>.</li> +<li>Godwin, <a href="#Page_473">473</a>.</li> +<li>Goethe, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>"Tasso," <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_351">351</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>;</li> +<li>his self-experimentalizing in "The Sorrows of Werther," <a href="#Page_337">337</a>;</li> +<li>"Faust" and "Wilhelm Meister," <a href="#Page_339">339</a>;</li> +<li>his nature, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>;</li> +<li>partiality in delineating character, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Gonsalvi, Cardinal, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>.</li> +<li>Gower, Lord Francis Leveson, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li> +<li>Grahame, Lady, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</li> +<li>Grammont, Duc de, his two children, <a href="#Page_522">522</a>.</li> +<li>Grammont, Ida de, Duchesse de Guyche, <a href="#Page_522">522</a>.</li> +<li>Grande Place, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.</li> +<li>Granville, Dr., <a href="#Page_344">344</a>.</li> +<li>Great Russell Street, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>.</li> +<li>"Grecian Daughter," Ward in, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_484">484</a>.</li> +<li>Gregory, Wm., <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li> +<li>Grey, Earl, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>.</li> +<li>Greville, Charles, statement about Miss Tree in his "Memoirs," <a href="#Page_201">201</a>.</li> +<li>Greville, Lady Charlotte, <a href="#Page_418">418</a>, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_486">486</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>a "Swarry" at her house, <a href="#Page_491">491</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Greville, Henry, <a href="#Page_396">396</a>, <a href="#Page_471">471</a>, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>as an amateur singer, <a href="#Page_497">497</a>;</li> +<li>his sensibilities, <a href="#Page_486">486</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Grey, Lady, as an equestrian, <a href="#Page_471">471</a>.</li> +<li>Grey, Lord, haunted by a vision of Lord Castlereagh, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>responsibility in Reform Bill matters, <a href="#Page_494">494</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Grimani, the sisters, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>.</li> +<li>Grimani, Bellini, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>.</li> +<li>Grimani, Julia, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>.</li> +<li>Grosvenor, Lady Octavia, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>.</li> +<li>Grote, Mrs., <a href="#Page_277">277</a>.</li> +<li>Guilford, his seat at Wroxton Abbey, <a href="#Page_388">388</a>.</li> +<li>Guinevre, <a href="#Page_327">327</a>.</li> +<li>Guirani, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</li> +<li>Guyce, Duchesse de, <a href="#Page_522">522</a></li> +<li>Guy's Cliff, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li> +<li>Gwynn, Nell, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>.</li></ul> +<ul class="IX"><li> +Hallam, Arthur, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>essay on the philosophical writings of Cicero, <a href="#Page_514">514</a>;</li> +<li>death of, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Hamilton, Wm., <a href="#Page_271">271</a>.</li> +<li>Hamilton, Sir Ralph, and Lady, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>.</li> +<li>Hamlet, his feigned (?) madness, <a href="#Page_327">327</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>and Hecuba, <a href="#Page_486">486</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Handel, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>.</li> +<li>Harris, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>.</li> +<li>Harness, Rev. Wm., <a href="#Page_235">235</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>opinions of "The Cenci," <a href="#Page_334">334</a>;</li> +<li>discussion of one of Hope's theories, <a href="#Page_337">337</a>, <a href="#Page_342">342</a>;</li> +<li>biography, <a href="#Page_349">349</a>, <a href="#Page_363">363</a>, <a href="#Page_415">415</a>, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>;</li> +<li>"The Wife of Antwerp," <a href="#Page_475">475</a>;</li> +<li>play delayed at Covent Garden, <a href="#Page_506">506</a>;</li> +<li>criticism of "Star of Seville," <a href="#Page_514">514</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Harness, Mary, <a href="#Page_486">486</a>, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>.</li> +<li>Hare, Julius, biography of Sterling, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>.</li> +<li>"Harlequin and Davy Jones," <a href="#Page_320">320</a>.</li> +<li>Harlow, <a href="#Page_327">327</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>picture of Mrs. Siddons in "Queen Katharine," <a href="#Page_459">459</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Harris, Charles Kemble shaking hands with, <a href="#Page_414">414</a>.</li> +<li>Harris, Mr., inclined to come to some accommodation with Charles Kemble, <a href="#Page_463">463</a>.</li> +<li>Hatchford, Fanny Kemble and Lady Ellesmere at, <a href="#Page_375">375</a>.</li> +<li>Hatfield House, "Isaure" acted at, <a href="#Page_382">382</a>, <a href="#Page_394">394</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>old lady burned to death in, <a href="#Page_497">497</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Hathaway, Anne, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>.</li> +<li>Hatherton, Lady, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li> +<li>"Haunted Tower, The," <a href="#Page_500">500</a>.</li> +<li>Haydon's "Bonaparte at St. Helena," Fanny Kemble's verses on, <a href="#Page_441">441</a>.</li> +<li>Hayter, George, <a href="#Page_487">487</a>.</li> +<li>Hayter, John, his sketches of Fanny Kemble as <i>Juliet</i>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>portrait of Henry Kemble, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>;</li> +<li>picture of Fanny Kemble for Lord Ellesmere, <a href="#Page_412">412</a>;</li> +<li>his portraits of Mrs. Norton and the Fitzpatricks, <a href="#Page_487">487</a>;</li> +<li><a name="Page_596" id="Page_596" ></a><span class="pagenum">[596]</span> +wishes to sell his sketches of Fanny Kemble in <i>Juliet</i>, <a href="#Page_588">588</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Havley, Mr., declining the proposed accommodation at Covent Garden, <a href="#Page_464">464</a>.</li> +<li>Hazlitt, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</li> +<li><a name="ind_heathfarm"></a>Heath Farm, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>.</li> +<li>Heaton, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>Charles Kemble invited to, <a href="#Page_291">291</a>, <a href="#Page_295">295</a>, <a href="#Page_297">297</a>;</li> +<li>evenings at, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li><i>Hecuba</i> and <i>Hamlet</i>, <a href="#Page_486">486</a>.</li> +<li>Heidelberg, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_294">294</a>.</li> +<li>Hemans, Mrs., <a href="#Page_297">297</a>, <a href="#Page_358">358</a>.</li> +<li>"Henri Trois," <a href="#Page_420">420</a>, <a href="#Page_469">469</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>production at Covent Garden postponed, <a href="#Page_469">469</a>;</li> +<li>Lord Leveson's translation of, <a href="#Page_484">484</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>"Henry VIII.," Mrs. Siddons in, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>.</li> +<li>Herodias' Daughter, <a href="#Page_264">264</a>.</li> +<li>"Hernani," <a href="#Page_365">365</a>, <a href="#Page_374">374</a>: dresses for, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>at Bridgewater House, <a href="#Page_396">396</a>, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>;</li> +<li>rehearsing at Oatlands, <a href="#Page_404">404</a>;</li> +<li>dress-rehearsal for, at Bridgewater House, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>;</li> +<li>a third representation, <a href="#Page_413">413</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Hertfordshire, see <a href="#ind_heathfarm">Heath Farm</a>.</li> +<li>Highflyer, The, <a href="#Page_330">330</a>.</li> +<li>Hindoo Theatre, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>.</li> +<li>Hill, Lord, influence to get Henry Kemble his commission, <a href="#Page_502">502</a>.</li> +<li>"History of Venice," <a href="#Page_466">466</a>.</li> +<li>Hoffman, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>.</li> +<li>Hogarth, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>pictures by, <a href="#Page_422">422</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Hogg, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.</li> +<li>Holbein's painting of "Queen Katharine," <a href="#Page_459">459</a>.</li> +<li>Holland, Lord, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.</li> +<li>Holland, Lady, death of, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.</li> +<li>"Holy Family, The," <a href="#Page_475">475</a>.</li> +<li>Honiton, Vale of, <a href="#Page_449">449</a>.</li> +<li>Hook, Theodore, anecdotes of, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>.</li> +<li>Horner, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.</li> +<li>Horsley, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>.</li> +<li>Hope, Mr., his residence near Scott's, <a href="#Page_265">265</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>his theory respecting the destiny of the human soul, <a href="#Page_337">337</a>;</li> +<li>"On the Nature and Immortality of the Soul," <a href="#Page_494">494</a>;</li> +<li>death of, <a href="#Page_337">337</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Hopwood Hall, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>, <a href="#Page_297">297</a>.</li> +<li>Hosmer, Miss, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>.</li> +<li>Howick, Lord, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>.</li> +<li>Huber, Madame, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>.</li> +<li>Hughes, Dr., witnessing <i>Juliet</i>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>.</li> +<li>Hugo, Victor, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>"Hernani," <a href="#Page_374">374</a>;</li> +<li>"Notre Dame de Paris," <a href="#Page_498">498</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Human soul, destiny of, <a href="#Page_337">337</a>.</li> +<li>Hume, Baron, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>his manner to ladies, <a href="#Page_527">527</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Hummel, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>.</li> +<li>"Hunchback, The," <a href="#Page_376">376</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>entire success of, <a href="#Page_378">378</a>;</li> +<li>contrasted with "Romeo and Juliet," <a href="#Page_378">378</a>, <a href="#Page_385">385</a>, <a href="#Page_390">390</a>, <a href="#Page_412">412</a>, <a href="#Page_512">512</a>, <a href="#Page_517">517</a>, <a href="#Page_558">558</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Hunt, Leigh, <a href="#Page_383">383</a>.</li> +<li>Hunt, Mr., quoting the Bible in the House of Commons, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>.</li> +<li>Huskisson, Mr., death on Stephenson's new railroad, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>news of his death at Manchester, <a href="#Page_304">304</a>, <a href="#Page_344">344</a>;</li> +<li>death-place marked by a tablet, <a href="#Page_530">530</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li><br /> +Ilfracombe, a trip to, <a href="#Page_434">434</a>.</li> +<li>"Imogen," <a href="#Page_243">243</a>.</li> +<li>Inchbald, Mrs., amusing anecdotes of, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>.</li> +<li>"Inconstant, The," Fanny Kemble as <i>Bizarre</i> in, <a href="#Page_547">547</a>.</li> +<li>"Inez de Castro," <a href="#Page_323">323</a>, <a href="#Page_342">342</a>, <a href="#Page_354">354</a>.</li> +<li>Inglis, Sir Robert, incident of, <a href="#Page_493">493</a>.</li> +<li>Inverarity, Miss, engaged at the Dublin Theatre, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>, <a href="#Page_488">488</a>.</li> +<li>"Invincibles, The," <a href="#Page_383">383</a>.</li> +<li>Ireland, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>.</li> +<li>Irving, Washington, <a href="#Page_560">560</a>, <a href="#Page_564">564</a>, <a href="#Page_572">572</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>the "creaking door," <a href="#Page_573">573</a>;</li> +<li><i>Isabella</i>, Fanny Kemble as, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>, <a href="#Page_414">414</a>;</li> +<li>at Plymouth, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>, <a href="#Page_472">472</a>, <a href="#Page_479">479</a>;</li> +</ul></li> +<li>"Isaure," <a href="#Page_382">382</a>.</li></ul> +<ul class="IX"><li> +Jacobite, A, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>.</li> +<li>Jackson, Andrew, Fanny Kemble's letters of introduction to, <a href="#Page_561">561</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>unpopularity in <a href="#Page_183">183</a>2, <a href="#Page_549">549</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li><i>Jaffir</i>, Charles Kemble in, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>.</li> +<li>James I., <a href="#Page_255">255</a>.</li> +<li>James, King, saving of his life by the "Douglas woman," <a href="#Page_490">490</a>.</li> +<li>James Street, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</li> +<li>Jameson, Mr. Robert, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>.</li> +<li>Jameson, Mrs., <a href="#Page_123">123</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>acquaintance with Lady Byron, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>;</li> +<li>public lectures, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>;</li> +<li>protests against <i>Juliet's</i> costume, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>;</li> +<li>selection of <i>Juliet's</i> costume, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>;</li> +<li><i>avant propos</i> of Fanny Kemble in <i>Juliet</i>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>;</li> +<li>notice of Fanny Kemble in <i>Juliet</i>, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>;</li> +<li>letter from Fanny Kemble at Glasgow, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>;</li> +<li>drawing of the rooms at James street, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>;</li> +<li>her troubles, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>;</li> +<li>water-color sketches, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>;</li> +<li>book on Shakespeare's female characters, <a href="#Page_359">359</a>, <a href="#Page_513">513</a>, <a href="#Page_531">531</a>;</li> +<li>threatens to write a play, <a href="#Page_394">394</a>;</li> +<li>Christina, <a href="#Page_499">499</a>;</li> +<li>biographical sketch of the Kemble family, <a href="#Page_587">587</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Jawbone, the Kemble, <a href="#Page_345">345</a>.</li> +<li>Jealousy, a few words about, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>, <a href="#Page_483">483</a>.</li> +<li>Jeffrey, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>.</li> +<li>Jephson, Dr., <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li> +<li>"Jew of Aragon, The," <a href="#Page_305">305</a>.</li> +<li>Jig Dancing, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>.</li> +<li><i>John Bull, The</i>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>.</li> +<li>John the Baptist, <a href="#Page_264">264</a>.</li> +<li>Jones, Sir William, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>.</li> +<li>Jordan, Mrs., <a href="#Page_327">327</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>her natural son by William IV., <a href="#Page_228">228</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Journal, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>1, <a href="#Page_390">390</a>.</li> +<li><i>Julia</i>, in "The Hunchback," <a href="#Page_377">377</a>, <a href="#Page_385">385</a>.</li> +<li><i>Juliana</i>, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>.</li> +<li><i>Juliet</i>, chosen for Author's first appearance, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>her costume for first appearance in, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>;</li> +<li>Lawrence and Hayter's sketches of Fanny Kemble in, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>;</li> +<li>Fanny Kemble's opinion of, <a href="#Page_438">438</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Julius, Pope, <a href="#Page_506">506</a>.</li></ul> +<ul class="IX"><li> +"Katharine, Queen," <a href="#Page_457">457</a>, <a href="#Page_458">458</a>.</li> +<li>"Katharine of Cleves," Lord Francis Leveson's translation of "Henri Trois," <a href="#Page_481">481</a>, <a href="#Page_484">484</a>, <a href="#Page_489">489</a>, <a href="#Page_490">490</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>first acting of the play, <a href="#Page_491">491</a>;</li> +<li>critiques upon, <a href="#Page_493">493</a>;</li> +<li>"more interesting than any thing of Shakespeare's," <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>, <a href="#Page_499">499</a>;</li> +<li>its popularity waning, <a href="#Page_503">503</a>;</li> +<li>awkward incident while playing, <a href="#Page_505">505</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Kant, <a href="#Page_346">346</a>.</li> +<li>Keats compared to Tennyson, <a href="#Page_581">581</a>.<br /><a name="Page_597" id="Page_597" ></a><span class="pagenum">[597]</span> +<br /> +Kean at the English Theatre in Paris, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>in "Merchant of Venice," <a href="#Page_119">119</a>;</li> +<li>Shakesperean revivals, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>;</li> +<li>non-acceptance of a part in "The Hunchback," <a href="#Page_376">376</a>, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>;</li> +<li>in <i>Othello</i>, <i>Shylock</i>, and <i>Sir Giles Overreach</i>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>, <a href="#Page_440">440</a>;</li> +<li>effect of his acting, <a href="#Page_477">477</a>;</li> +<li><i>Othello</i>, <a href="#Page_478">478</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li><a name="ind_kembleAd"></a>Kemble, Adelaide, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>"Aunt Dall," <a href="#Page_18">18</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>;</li> +<li>nurses Fanny Kemble through sickness, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>, <a href="#Page_297">297</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Kemble, Charles, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>at the English Theatre at Paris, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>;</li> +<li>success in Paris, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>;</li> +<li>in <i>Falstaff</i>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>;</li> +<li>property almost gone, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>;</li> +<li>in Edinburgh, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>;</li> +<li>arrested the first time, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>;</li> +<li>as <i>Mercutio</i>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>;</li> +<li>acting in "The Gamester," <a href="#Page_204">204</a>;</li> +<li>embraced by Mme. Malibran, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>;</li> +<li>renewal of intercourse with Lawrence, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>;</li> +<li>incident in Dublin, <a href="#Page_288">288</a>;</li> +<li>invitation to Heaton, <a href="#Page_291">291</a>;</li> +<li>thrashing the Editor of the <i>Age</i> newspaper, <a href="#Page_310">310</a>;</li> +<li>acting <i>Jaffir</i> to Fanny Kemble's <i>Belvidera</i>, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>;</li> +<li>involved in six lawsuits, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>;</li> +<li>speech about theatre patents, <a href="#Page_339">339</a>;</li> +<li>in "The Hunchback," <a href="#Page_377">377</a>;</li> +<li>as <i>Sir Thomas Clifford</i> in "The Hunchback," <a href="#Page_378">378</a>;</li> +<li>overcome with laughter on the stage, <a href="#Page_387">387</a>;</li> +<li>forgetting a Duchess, <a href="#Page_414">414</a>;</li> +<li>shaking hands with his legal opponent Harris, <a href="#Page_414">414</a>;</li> +<li>intention of going to America, <a href="#Page_427">427</a>;</li> +<li>opinion of Kean, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>;</li> +<li>mistake in rendering <i>Shylock</i>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>;</li> +<li>money seized at benefit in Bristol for Manager Brunton's debts, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>, <a href="#Page_440">440</a>;</li> +<li>acting at Plymouth in "The Gamester," <a href="#Page_446">446</a>;</li> +<li>enthusiasm over him at Plymouth, <a href="#Page_446">446</a>;</li> +<li>his surprising speech, <i>ib.</i>;</li> +<li>his health under great trials, <a href="#Page_458">458</a>;</li> +<li>as <i>Giaffir</i>, <a href="#Page_461">461</a>;</li> +<li>serious illness, <a href="#Page_462">462</a>;</li> +<li>recovery, <a href="#Page_466">466</a>;</li> +<li>relapse, <a href="#Page_467">467</a>;</li> +<li>still worse, <a href="#Page_469">469</a>;</li> +<li>again recovering, <a href="#Page_472">472</a>;</li> +<li>compared with Kean, <a href="#Page_477">477</a>;</li> +<li>as <i>Benedict</i>, <a href="#Page_478">478</a>;</li> +<li>recovery, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>;</li> +<li>breaks his nose while skating, <a href="#Page_490">490</a>;</li> +<li>an unfortunate compromise at Covent Garden, <a href="#Page_513">513</a>;</li> +<li>bowed down with care and trouble, <a href="#Page_515">515</a>;</li> +<li>refusing to act in "The Hunchback," <a href="#Page_517">517</a>;</li> +<li>examination before the House of Commons, <a href="#Page_520">520</a>;</li> +<li>twice arrested, <a href="#Page_522">522</a>;</li> +<li>farewell at Covent Garden, <a href="#Page_529">529</a>;</li> +<li>his estate in St. Giles', <a href="#Page_536">536</a>;</li> +<li>beginning in New York with <i>Hamlet</i>, <a href="#Page_536">536</a>;</li> +<li>his <i>Romeo</i> and <i>Mercutio</i> compared, <a href="#Page_542">542</a>;</li> +<li>compared to Cooper in "Venice Preserved," <a href="#Page_544">544</a>;</li> +<li>likely to have to die abroad, <a href="#Page_567">567</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li><a name="ind_kembleMC"></a>Kemble, Mrs. Charles (Maria Therese de Camp), <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>at Drury Lane, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>;</li> +<li>opinion of a stage costume, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>;</li> +<li>her failing health, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>;</li> +<li>returns to the stage after an absence of twenty years, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>;</li> +<li>her interest in Fanny Kemble's <i>Juliet</i>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>;</li> +<li>arrival of in Manchester, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>;</li> +<li>delicacy, <a href="#Page_294">294</a>;</li> +<li>physical organization, <a href="#Page_311">311</a>;</li> +<li>effect of reading Moore's "Life of Byron," <a href="#Page_330">330</a>;</li> +<li>rage at a picture of her husband, <a href="#Page_345">345</a>;</li> +<li>compared to Mrs. John Kemble, <a href="#Page_358">358</a>;</li> +<li>ill health, <a href="#Page_371">371</a>;</li> +<li>great pathetic and comic powers, <a href="#Page_386">386</a>;</li> +<li>"Francis I." dedicated to, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>;</li> +<li>moving the furniture, <a href="#Page_464">464</a>;</li> +<li>her horror of the sea, <a href="#Page_482">482</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Kemble, Frances Anne, born <a href="#Page_180">180</a>9, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>Newman Street, <i>ib.</i>;</li> +<li>Westbourne Green, <i>ib.</i>;</li> +<li>childish freaks, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>;</li> +<li>at school at Mrs. Twiss' at Cambridge Place, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>;</li> +<li>punning from Shakespeare, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>;</li> +<li>return to London at Covent Garden Chambers, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>;</li> +<li>picture then said to be mine, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>;</li> +<li>question as to my being born there, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>;</li> +<li>anecdote with Talma, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>;</li> +<li>went to school in France, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>;</li> +<li>early pranks, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>;</li> +<li>childhood petulance, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>;</li> +<li>taken to an execution, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>;</li> +<li>childhood terrors, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>;</li> +<li>daily excursions, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>;</li> +<li>yearly distribution of prizes, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>;</li> +<li>residence at Craven Hill, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>;</li> +<li>leaves Boulogne, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>;</li> +<li>lodging in Gerard Street, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>;</li> +<li>visit from Uncle Kemble, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>;</li> +<li>about Scott, Milton and Shakespeare, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>;</li> +<li>first visit to Lausanne, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>;</li> +<li>musical education, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>;</li> +<li>contemplating suicide, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>;</li> +<li>goes to Paris, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>;</li> +<li>at school in the Rue d'Angoulême, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>;</li> +<li>meets Lord Melbourne, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>;</li> +<li>goes to hear Mr. César Malan, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>;</li> +<li>impressions of Drs. Channing, Dewey, Bellows, Furness, Follen, Wm. and Henry Ware, Frederick Maurice, Dean Stanley, Martineau and Robertson, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>;</li> +<li>school life at Mrs. Rowden's, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>;</li> +<li>schoolmates, <i>ib.</i>;</li> +<li>a companion's funeral, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>;</li> +<li>reading Byron on the sly, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>;</li> +<li>my music and dancing masters, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>;</li> +<li>passion for dancing, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>;</li> +<li>private theatricals, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>;</li> +<li>first indications of dramatic talent, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>;</li> +<li>a new home in the Champs Elysées, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>;</li> +<li>an old-fashioned wedding, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>;</li> +<li>home from school, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>;</li> +<li>cottage at Weybridge, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>;</li> +<li>passion for fishing, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>;</li> +<li>taken with smallpox, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>;</li> +<li>harness for gracefulness, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>;</li> +<li>a robbery, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>;</li> +<li>trip to Hertfordshire, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>;</li> +<li>first meeting with H—— S——, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>;</li> +<li>"Der Freyschütz," <a href="#Page_94">94</a>;</li> +<li>presentation to Mendelssohn, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>;</li> +<li>spoken of to the Queen, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>;</li> +<li>return to Heath Farm, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>;</li> +<li>Trenton Falls, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>;</li> +<li>love for books, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>;</li> +<li>our house at Bayswater, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>;</li> +<li>letters from Bayswater, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>;</li> +<li>offered £200 for first play, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>;</li> +<li>the play of "Francis I." finished, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>;</li> +<li>thoughts of a comedy, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>;</li> +<li>sees "Merchant of Venice" for first time, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>;</li> +<li>visits West India Docks and Thames Tunnel, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>;</li> +<li>MSS. in the fire, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>;</li> +<li>thoughts of going on the stage, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>;</li> +<li>read "Diary of an Ennuyée" for first time, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>;</li> +<li>Longing for Italy, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>;</li> +<li>acquaintance with Mr. and Mrs. Montagu, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>;</li> +<li>picture by "Dick," "There's plenty of it, Fan," <a href="#Page_131">131</a>;</li> +<li>ill of measles, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>;</li> +<li>desire to say something <i>from</i> myself, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>;</li> +<li>ghosts, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>;</li> +<li>convalescence, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>;</li> +<li>considering a means of livelihood, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>;</li> +<li>about marrying, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>;</li> +<li>going on the stage, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>;</li> +<li>projected works, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>;</li> +<li><i>first ball</i>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>;</li> +<li>admiration for Mrs. Henry Siddons, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>;</li> +<li>love for Edinburgh, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>;</li> +<li>a touching incident, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>;</li> +<li>a Scotch Venus, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>;</li> +<li>raspberry tarts, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>;</li> +<li>sitting to Lawrence Macdonald for bust, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>;</li> +<li>"Grecian Daughters," <a href="#Page_152">152</a>;</li> +<li>an old-fashioned house, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>;</li> +<li>a partisan of Charles Edward, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>;</li> +<li>an unlucky speech, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>;</li> +<li>great esteem for Dr. Combe, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>;</li> +<li>intimacy with Harry Siddons, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>;</li> +<li>incident of Scottish regalia, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>;</li> +<li>at Mr. Combe's house, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>;</li> +<li>listens to Chambers Brothers' story of poverty, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>;</li> +<li><a name="Page_598" id="Page_598" ></a><span class="pagenum">[598]</span> +a jolly face for a tragic actress, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>;</li> +<li>Mons Meg and Madame Catalani, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>;</li> +<li>observance of Sunday, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>;</li> +<li>a natural <i>turn</i> for religion, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>;</li> +<li>give up Byron's poetry, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>;</li> +<li>a new tragedy, "Fiesco," <a href="#Page_168">168</a>;</li> +<li>return to London, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>;</li> +<li>religious zeal, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>;</li> +<li>singing with Moore, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>;</li> +<li>begins a visit to England in <a href="#Page_184">184</a>1, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>;</li> +<li>meeting Sir Samuel Cunard, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>;</li> +<li>through London in <a href="#Page_184">184</a>5, on way to Italy, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>;</li> +<li>renewal of intercourse with Mrs. Norton, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>;</li> +<li>talks about the Hindoo Theatre, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>;</li> +<li>plans for helping my father, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>;</li> +<li>goes to Scotland, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>;</li> +<li>destroying H.'s letters, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>;</li> +<li>German abandoned, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>;</li> +<li>a few words about Shakespeare, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>;</li> +<li>admiration for young Tennyson's poems, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>;</li> +<li>the theatre to be sold, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>;</li> +<li>life rather sad, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>;</li> +<li>"brought out" as <i>Juliet</i>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>;</li> +<li>a badly dressed <i>Juliet</i>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>;</li> +<li>preparations for first appearance, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>;</li> +<li>my opinion of <i>Portia</i>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a></li> +<li>preparing for a <i>début</i>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>;</li> +<li>a constant admirer, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>;</li> +<li>awkward incident with Mr. Abbot, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>;</li> +<li>"Jove, Fanny, you are a lift!" <a href="#Page_200">200</a>;</li> +<li>interest in Malibran, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>;</li> +<li>acting as <i>Mrs. Beverley</i> in "The Gamester" in Manchester, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>;</li> +<li>a strange scene between my father and Madame Malibran, <a href="#Page_204">204</a></li> +<li>a little advice from Malibran, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>;</li> +<li>resemblance to Madame Malibran, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>;</li> +<li>translate De Musset's lament for Malibran, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>;</li> +<li>restore the ending to "Romeo and Juliet," <a href="#Page_207">207</a>;</li> +<li>danger of falling in love with Lawrence, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>;</li> +<li>sitting for portrait to Lawrence, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>;</li> +<li>a sudden glimpse of Satan, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>;</li> +<li>first copy of "Paradise Lost," <a href="#Page_215">215</a>;</li> +<li>a deplorable act of honesty, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>;</li> +<li>preparing for <i>début</i>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>;</li> +<li>ideas of beauty, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>;</li> +<li><i>début</i> in "Romeo and Juliet," <a href="#Page_220">220</a>;</li> +<li>first watch, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>;</li> +<li>impression of moral danger, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>;</li> +<li>a disappointed "puffer," <a href="#Page_223">223</a>;</li> +<li>popularity in America, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>;</li> +<li>incident of last public reading in America, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>;</li> +<li>tenth edition of "Francis I.," <a href="#Page_225">225</a>;</li> +<li>income during first professional years, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>;</li> +<li>first salary at Covent Garden, thirty guineas weekly, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>;</li> +<li>acquaintances behind the scenes, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>;</li> +<li>dancing with a queer clergyman, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>;</li> +<li>a cold ride from Boston, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>;</li> +<li>riding lessons, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>;</li> +<li>portrait by Lawrence and sketches by Hayter, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>;</li> +<li>likeness to Mrs. Sarah Siddons, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>;</li> +<li>appearance in "Grecian Daughter," <a href="#Page_236">236</a>;</li> +<li>mourning for Lawrence, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>;</li> +<li>dress as <i>Euphrasia</i>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>;</li> +<li>"Shetland pony," <a href="#Page_240">240</a>;</li> +<li>altering last scene of "Grecian Daughter," <a href="#Page_241">241</a>;</li> +<li>annoyance of being stared at, <a href="#Page_242">242</a>;</li> +<li>a tumble in the "Grecian Daughter," <a href="#Page_243">243</a>;</li> +<li>a summer tour, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>;</li> +<li>in "The Gamester," <a href="#Page_245">245</a>;</li> +<li>stage nervousness, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>;</li> +<li>first appearance as <i>Portia</i>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>;</li> +<li>fright as <i>Portia</i>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>;</li> +<li>happiness of reading Shakespeare, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>;</li> +<li>love for dancing, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>;</li> +<li>delight in <i>Portia's</i> costume, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>;</li> +<li>acting <i>Isabella</i> at John Kemble's benefit, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>;</li> +<li>compared with Mrs. Siddons and Miss O'Neill, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>;</li> +<li>farewell to London, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>;</li> +<li>as <i>Mrs. Haller</i>, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>;</li> +<li>impressions of Bath, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>;</li> +<li>audiences not so friendly out of London, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>;</li> +<li>fortnight at Edinburgh, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>;</li> +<li>at Glasgow, <i>ib.</i>;</li> +<li>criticism at Glasgow, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>;</li> +<li>breakfasting with Sir Walter Scott, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>:</li> +<li>anecdote of Scottish regalia, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>;</li> +<li>incident with Scott, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>;</li> +<li>Scott's mental triumph over outward circumstances, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>;</li> +<li>visit to Abbotsford, <a href="#Page_264">264</a>;</li> +<li>scenes and incidents at Abbotsford, <a href="#Page_264">264</a>;</li> +<li>visiting Lochs Lomond and Long, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>;</li> +<li>audiences at Glasgow, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>;</li> +<li>new home at Great Russell street, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>;</li> +<li>some portraits, <i>ib.</i>;</li> +<li>dinner at Lady Morgan's, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>;</li> +<li>life at Bannisters, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>;</li> +<li>at Ardgillan Castle, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>;</li> +<li>about governesses, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>;</li> +<li>about the French Revolution of <a href="#Page_183">183</a>0, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>;</li> +<li>a good audience at Dublin, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>;</li> +<li>a medley of visits, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>;</li> +<li>experimental trip on Stephenson's new railroad, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>;</li> +<li>a ride with Stephenson, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>;</li> +<li>description of a locomotive, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>;</li> +<li>a new sensation, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>;</li> +<li>an idea of religion, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>;</li> +<li>a warm reception in Dublin, <a href="#Page_288">288</a>;</li> +<li>repugnance to work, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>;</li> +<li>a distressing letter from John Kemble, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>;</li> +<li>a West Indian yarn, <a href="#Page_295">295</a>;</li> +<li>at Birmingham, <a href="#Page_295">295</a>;</li> +<li>an exhilarating ride, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>;</li> +<li>Lord Huskisson's death, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>;</li> +<li>evenings at Heaton, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>;</li> +<li>the guests at Heaton, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>;</li> +<li>to Liverpool for the opening of the new railroad, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>;</li> +<li>"The Jew of Aragon," <a href="#Page_305">305</a>;</li> +<li>"The Jew of Aragon" and "Griselda," <a href="#Page_306">306</a>;</li> +<li>failure of "The Jew of Aragon," <a href="#Page_307">307</a>;</li> +<li>consenting to go with Tom Taylor and Charles Reade to see "The King's Wager" for first time, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>;</li> +<li>thoughts of publishing the plays and verses, <a href="#Page_309">309</a>;</li> +<li>the editor of the <i>Age</i> thrashed, <a href="#Page_310">310</a>;</li> +<li>on drawing and painting, <a href="#Page_311">311</a>;</li> +<li>about managing children, <a href="#Page_312">312</a>;</li> +<li>the <i>Age</i> newspaper, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>;</li> +<li>playing "The Provoked Husband," <a href="#Page_315">315</a>;</li> +<li>failure of "The Fair Penitent," <a href="#Page_318">318</a>;</li> +<li>working on and getting published "The Star of Seville," <a href="#Page_319">319</a>;</li> +<li>dinner at Mr. Cartwright's, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>;</li> +<li>Christmas-eve at Mrs. Siddons', <a href="#Page_322">322</a>;</li> +<li>public opinion about acting with her father, <a href="#Page_323">323</a>;</li> +<li><i>Bianca</i> in "Fazio," <a href="#Page_323">323</a>;</li> +<li><i>Juliet</i>, <i>Calista</i>, <i>Mrs. Haller</i>, and <i>Lady Townley</i>, <a href="#Page_323">323</a>;</li> +<li>a run around Brighton, <a href="#Page_328">328</a>;</li> +<li>advantage of Mrs. Siddons and Miss O'Neill in their tragic partners, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>;</li> +<li>the Chancery case again, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>;</li> +<li>a few words about Byron, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>;</li> +<li>about children's letters, <a href="#Page_332">332</a>;</li> +<li>more about Byron, <a href="#Page_333">333</a>;</li> +<li>"Cenci," <a href="#Page_334">334</a>;</li> +<li>"Fazio," <i>Mrs. Beverley</i> and <i>Belvidera</i>, <a href="#Page_334">334</a>;</li> +<li>Burns, <a href="#Page_335">335</a>;</li> +<li>acting <i>Belvidera</i>, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>;</li> +<li>learning the part of <i>Beatrice</i> in one hour, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>;</li> +<li>Goethe, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>;</li> +<li>discussion as to destiny of human soul, <a href="#Page_337">337</a>;</li> +<li>reading Channing's Essay on Milton, <a href="#Page_337">337</a>;</li> +<li>Goethe's love for Madame Kestner, <a href="#Page_337">337</a>;</li> +<li>the journal, <a href="#Page_340">340</a>;</li> +<li>"Francis I.," <a href="#Page_341">341</a>;</li> +<li>a pleasant party, <a href="#Page_342">342</a>;</li> +<li>a little sculpture, <a href="#Page_343">343</a>;</li> +<li>the Reform Bill, <a href="#Page_344">344</a>;</li> +<li>the Kemble jawbone, <a href="#Page_345">345</a>;</li> +<li>production of "Francis I." an annoyance, <a href="#Page_350">350</a>;</li> +<li>the "White Devil," <a href="#Page_353">353</a>;</li> +<li>benefit at Covent Garden, <a href="#Page_356">356</a>;</li> +<li>playing <i>Lady Macbeth</i>, <a href="#Page_357">357</a>;</li> +<li>playing <i>Belvidera</i>, <a href="#Page_357">357</a>;</li> +<li><i>Constance</i>, for a benefit, <a href="#Page_359">359</a>;</li> +<li>success in <i>Constance</i>, <a href="#Page_360">360</a>;</li> +<li>portrait by Mr. Pickersgill, <a href="#Page_362">362</a>;</li> +<li>"Chiedo sostegno," <a href="#Page_365">365</a>;</li> +<li>Pickersgill, Lawrence, and Turnerelli, <a href="#Page_365">365</a>;</li> +<li><a name="Page_599" id="Page_599" ></a><span class="pagenum">[599]</span> +about <i>Portia</i> and <i>Camiola</i>, <a href="#Page_369">369</a>;</li> +<li>in want of a chapter on, <a href="#Page_371">371</a>;</li> +<li>first friendship with Earl and Countess of Ellesmere, <a href="#Page_374">374</a>;</li> +<li>about management, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>;</li> +<li>on gestures, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>;</li> +<li>a new friendship begun at Bridgewater House, <a href="#Page_374">374</a>;</li> +<li>opinions as to success of "The Hunchback," <a href="#Page_376">376</a>;</li> +<li>in <i>Mariana</i>, <a href="#Page_377">377</a>;</li> +<li>opinion of "The Hunchback," <a href="#Page_378">378</a>;</li> +<li>contrasting Shakespeare's <i>Juliet</i> with Knowles' <i>Julia</i>, <a href="#Page_379">379</a>;</li> +<li>all about Lady Cork, <a href="#Page_379">379</a>;</li> +<li>about "Old Plays," <a href="#Page_385">385</a>;</li> +<li>Mrs. Charles Kemble's help in leading parts, <a href="#Page_386">386</a>;</li> +<li>developing a gift for comedy, <a href="#Page_386">386</a>;</li> +<li>embarrassing situations when acting with Mr. Kemble, <a href="#Page_387">387</a>;</li> +<li>Massinger's plays compared with some others, <a href="#Page_389">389</a>;</li> +<li>Destiny, <i>ib.</i>;</li> +<li>"Star of Seville," <i>ib.</i>;</li> +<li>compared with Lady Salisbury, <a href="#Page_394">394</a>;</li> +<li>finishing "The Star of Seville," <a href="#Page_395">395</a>;</li> +<li>first appearance as <i>Lady Teazle</i>, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>;</li> +<li>desire to see Weybridge again, <a href="#Page_396">396</a>;</li> +<li>correcting proof on "Francis I.," <a href="#Page_396">396</a>;</li> +<li>"Reform," <a href="#Page_398">398</a>;</li> +<li>dedicating "Francis I." to Mrs. Charles Kemble, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>;</li> +<li>the communion service, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>;</li> +<li>off for Oatlands, and talks by the way, <a href="#Page_402">402</a>;</li> +<li>dress rehearsal for "Hernani," <a href="#Page_405">405</a>;</li> +<li>Hayter's picture for Lord Ellesmere, <a href="#Page_412">412</a>;</li> +<li>visit to Newgate, <a href="#Page_413">413</a>;</li> +<li>death of Mrs. Siddons, <a href="#Page_416">416</a>;</li> +<li>a summer's arrangements, <a href="#Page_416">416</a>;</li> +<li>"Une Facete," <a href="#Page_417">417</a>;</li> +<li>a royal audience, <a href="#Page_422">422</a>;</li> +<li>about marriage, <a href="#Page_423">423</a>;</li> +<li>talk about dislike to the stage, <a href="#Page_432">432</a>;</li> +<li>a street-singing project, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>;</li> +<li>sombre thoughts about marriage, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>;</li> +<li>opinion of <i>Juliet</i>, <a href="#Page_438">438</a>;</li> +<li>at Exeter, <a href="#Page_439">439</a>;</li> +<li>getting fortune told, <a href="#Page_440">440</a>;</li> +<li>love for Weybridge, <a href="#Page_441">441</a>;</li> +<li>verses on Bonaparte at St. Helena, <a href="#Page_441">441</a>;</li> +<li>slippery lodgings, <a href="#Page_444">444</a>;</li> +<li>"King John," Mrs. Siddons in, <a href="#Page_446">446</a>;</li> +<li>women as dramatic writers, <a href="#Page_446">446</a>;</li> +<li>a disagreeable sail, <a href="#Page_447">447</a>;</li> +<li>"fine people" and "not fine people," <a href="#Page_455">455</a>;</li> +<li>failure in <i>Queen Katharine</i>, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>;</li> +<li>love for splendor, <a href="#Page_460">460</a>;</li> +<li>"Bonaparte's letters to Joséphine," <a href="#Page_462">462</a>;</li> +<li>cutting down salaries, <a href="#Page_463">463</a>;</li> +<li>a few words about letter-writing, <a href="#Page_466">466</a>;</li> +<li>terrible suspense about Charles Kemble and the theatre, <a href="#Page_467">467</a>;</li> +<li><i>Bianca</i> as a "golden pheasant," <a href="#Page_469">469</a>;</li> +<li>anxiety about Charles Kemble, <a href="#Page_470">470</a>;</li> +<li>ill from worrying over Charles Kemble, <a href="#Page_470">470</a>;</li> +<li>a serenading incident in the United States, <a href="#Page_470">470</a>;</li> +<li>the wrong side of a show, <a href="#Page_472">472</a>;</li> +<li>at Angerstein's Picture Gallery, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>;</li> +<li>presented to the Duchess of Kent and Princess Victoria, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>;</li> +<li>timorousness when singing, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>;</li> +<li>Charles Kemble's recovery, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>;</li> +<li>thoughts of America, <a href="#Page_482">482</a>;</li> +<li>"La Estrella," <a href="#Page_483">483</a>;</li> +<li>"Katharine of Cleves," <a href="#Page_484">484</a>;</li> +<li>awkward predicament at first acting in "Katharine of Cleves," <a href="#Page_491">491</a>;</li> +<li>"out" for first time in a part, <a href="#Page_492">492</a>;</li> +<li>about the nature and immortality of the soul, <a href="#Page_495">495</a>;</li> +<li>an ugly horse, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>;</li> +<li>well-assorted marriages, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>;</li> +<li>love of nature, <a href="#Page_501">501</a>;</li> +<li>Kemble's publication of his Anglo-Saxon poem of Beowulf, <a href="#Page_502">502</a>;</li> +<li>bad management of "Francis I.," <a href="#Page_503">503</a>;</li> +<li>feeling about "Francis I.," <a href="#Page_504">504</a>;</li> +<li>as the queen-mother in "Francis I.," <a href="#Page_508">508</a>;</li> +<li>sober thoughts for the future, <a href="#Page_511">511</a>;</li> +<li>purchasing Henry's commission from receipts of "Francis I.," copyright, <a href="#Page_515">515</a>;</li> +<li>H—— S—— off for Ireland, <a href="#Page_519">519</a>;</li> +<li>farewell to Covent Garden, <a href="#Page_520">520</a>;</li> +<li>off for Edinburgh, June <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>2, <a href="#Page_521">521</a>;</li> +<li>off for America, <a href="#Page_522">522</a>;</li> +<li>beginning of acquaintance with Liston the surgeon, <a href="#Page_524">524</a>;</li> +<li>acting in "Francis I," first time, <a href="#Page_525">525</a>;</li> +<li>Lawrence's the best picture made of Fanny Kemble, <a href="#Page_535">535</a>;</li> +<li>ancient <i>vs.</i> modern cavaliers, <a href="#Page_527">527</a>;</li> +<li>last day in Edinburgh for two years, <a href="#Page_528">528</a>;</li> +<li>from Liverpool to Manchester, <a href="#Page_530">530</a>;</li> +<li>first sight of New York, <a href="#Page_533">533</a>;</li> +<li>beginning work in New York with <i>Bianca</i>, <a href="#Page_536">536</a>;</li> +<li>getting fat, <a href="#Page_552">552</a>;</li> +<li>success in America, <a href="#Page_560">560</a>;</li> +<li>picture of Fanny Kemble taken to Allegheny Mountains, <a href="#Page_569">569</a>;</li> +<li>"fitting" American audiences, <a href="#Page_569">569</a>;</li> +<li>playing "Fazio" the first time in America, <a href="#Page_572">572</a>;</li> +<li>engaged to be married, <a href="#Page_573">573</a>;</li> +<li>seeing Niagara, <a href="#Page_580">580</a>;</li> +<li>thoughts of returning to England, <a href="#Page_587">587</a>;</li> +<li>Mrs. Jameson's biography of the Kemble family, <a href="#Page_588">588</a>;</li> +<li>Aunt Dall's illness, <a href="#Page_588">588</a>;</li> +<li>enthusiastic farewell in Boston, <a href="#Page_588">588</a>;</li> +<li>marriage to Pierce Butler, June <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>4, <a href="#Page_590">590</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Kemble, Henry, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>his beauty, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>;</li> +<li>plans for his provision, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>;</li> +<li>trying the part of <i>Romeo</i>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>;</li> +<li>return to Paris, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>;</li> +<li>commission in the army, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>;</li> +<li>schooling at Westminster over, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>;</li> +<li>taken to Heidelberg, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_294">294</a>, <a href="#Page_297">297</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a>, <a href="#Page_357">357</a>;</li> +<li>ill, <a href="#Page_470">470</a>;</li> +<li>passion for the sea, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>;</li> +<li>to go into the army, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>;</li> +<li>dislike to going to Cambridge, <a href="#Page_482">482</a>;</li> +<li>receives commission in the army, <a href="#Page_515">515</a>;</li> +<li>appointed tithe-collector in Ireland, <a href="#Page_546">546</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Kemble, Fanny (see <a href="#ind_arkwright">Arkwright, Mrs.</a>).</li> +<li>Kemble, John, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>high honors, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>;</li> +<li>determines to enter the church, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>;</li> +<li>leaves Cambridge without a degree, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>;</li> +<li>Lawrence's admiration for, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>;</li> +<li>intention of going into the church, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>;</li> +<li>return from Germany, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>;</li> +<li>his degree at Cambridge, <i>ib.</i>;</li> +<li>takes his degree, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>;</li> +<li>his wild scheme of aiding Spain, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>;</li> +<li>safe and well, <a href="#Page_304">304</a>;</li> +<li>in Spain, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>, <a href="#Page_326">326</a>;</li> +<li>gone to Gibraltar, <a href="#Page_326">326</a>;</li> +<li>alive and well, <a href="#Page_334">334</a>;</li> +<li>prospects on arrival in England, <i>ib.</i>;</li> +<li>rumor of imprisonment in Madrid, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>, <a href="#Page_356">356</a>;</li> +<li>prospects, <a href="#Page_363">363</a>, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>;</li> +<li>conflicting reports of, <a href="#Page_387">387</a>;</li> +<li>determination not to leave Spain, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>;</li> +<li>return from Spain, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>;</li> +<li>home from Spain, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>;</li> +<li>translation of a German song, <a href="#Page_438">438</a>;</li> +<li>a sad letter from Spain, <a href="#Page_479">479</a>;</li> +<li>helping Venables to break Thackeray's nose, <a href="#Page_490">490</a>;</li> +<li>history of the Anglo-Saxons, <a href="#Page_505">505</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Kemble, John Philip, misfortunes as manager of Covent Garden Theatre, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>from Lausanne to London, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>;</li> +<li>return to Switzerland, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>;</li> +<li>monument at Westminster Abbey, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>;</li> +<li>as <i>Rolla</i> in "Pizarro," <a href="#Page_174">174</a>;</li> +<li>Lawrence's picture of, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>;</li> +<li>as <i>Beverley</i>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>;</li> +<li>benefit, <a href="#Page_253">253</a>;</li> +<li>his home in Great Russell street, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Kemble, Mrs. John, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>compared with Mrs. Charles Kemble, <a href="#Page_358">358</a>;</li> +<li>illness of, <a href="#Page_467">467</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Keely, Peter, in "Romeo and Juliet," <a href="#Page_219">219</a>.</li> +<li><a name="Page_600" id="Page_600" ></a><span class="pagenum">[600]</span> +Kelly, Mrs. Charles, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>.</li> +<li>Kemble, John Mitchell, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>.</li> +<li>Kemble, Philip, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>.</li> +<li>Kemble, Mrs. Roger, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>.</li> +<li>Kemble, Stephen, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>.</li> +<li>Kemble, Mrs. Stephen, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>.</li> +<li>Kenilworth, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>.</li> +<li>Kensington Gravel Pits, <a href="#Page_506">506</a>.</li> +<li>Kent, Duchess of, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>condescension of, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Kent, Chancellor, on Croton water, <a href="#Page_537">537</a>.</li> +<li>Kelly, Michael, <a href="#Page_500">500</a>.</li> +<li>Keppel, Mr., superseded by Charles Kemble in <i>Romeo</i>, <a href="#Page_542">542</a>.</li> +<li>Kerr, Lord Mark, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>.</li> +<li>Kestner, Madame, Goethe and, <a href="#Page_337">337</a>.</li> +<li>Kinglake, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>.</li> +<li>"King Lear," reiteration of expressions of grief, <a href="#Page_514">514</a>.</li> +<li>King, Lord, Earl of Lovelace, <a href="#Page_404">404</a>.</li> +<li>Kitchen, Dr., <a href="#Page_7">7</a>.</li> +<li>Knowles, Sheridan, <a href="#Page_366">366</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>his plays, "The Hunchback" and "Virginius," <a href="#Page_376">376</a>;</li> +<li>"The Wife," <a href="#Page_377">377</a>;</li> +<li>reading "The Hunchback" to Mr. and Mrs. Charles Kemble and Mr. Bartley, <a href="#Page_390">390</a>;</li> +<li>as <i>Master Walter</i>, <a href="#Page_512">512</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li><br /> +Lablache, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>.</li> +<li>"La Chronique de Charles Neuf," <a href="#Page_422">422</a>.</li> +<li>"La Dame Blanche," <a href="#Page_492">492</a>.</li> +<li>"La Estrella," Fanny Kemble's new play, <a href="#Page_483">483</a>.</li> +<li>Lady Byron, her general appearance, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>deprecates the publication of a new edition of Byron's works, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Lady Glengall, <a href="#Page_460">460</a>.</li> +<li><i>Lady Macbeth</i>, <a href="#Page_357">357</a>, <a href="#Page_359">359</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>Fanny Kemble to act in, <a href="#Page_417">417</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li><i>Lady Teazle</i>, <a href="#Page_385">385</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>costume for, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>;</li> +<li>Fanny Kemble's first appearance in, <a href="#Page_390">390</a>, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>;</li> +<li>her fears of failure in, <a href="#Page_394">394</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li><i>Lady Townley</i>, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>, <a href="#Page_322">322</a>, <a href="#Page_323">323</a>, <a href="#Page_325">325</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>compared with <i>Lady Teazle</i>, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Lake, Admiral, offers to take charge of Henry Kemble, <a href="#Page_482">482</a>.</li> +<li>Lamartine, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.</li> +<li>Lamb, Charles, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</li> +<li>Lamb, Lady Caroline, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.</li> +<li>Lamb, William (see <a href="#ind_melbourne">Melbourne</a>).</li> +<li>Lamb's "Dramatic specimens," <a href="#Page_385">385</a>.</li> +<li>Lancashire, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li> +<li>Lansdowne, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li> +<li>Lansdowne, Lord, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>.</li> +<li>Lansdowne House, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.</li> +<li>Lansdowne, gives Mr. Harness position in Land Office, <a href="#Page_349">349</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>admiration for Mrs. Sarah Siddons, <i>ib.</i></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Lansdowne, <a href="#Page_497">497</a>.</li> +<li>Lane, Mr., <a href="#Page_240">240</a>.</li> +<li>Laporte, lessee of Covent Garden from Charles Kemble, <a href="#Page_518">518</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>giving concerts in Covent Garden, <a href="#Page_527">527</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Lausanne, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>.</li> +<li>Latour, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>.</li> +<li>Lawrence, Sir Thomas, friendly relations between and Mrs. Charles Kemble restored, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>admiration for Mrs. Siddons, <i>ib.</i>;</li> +<li>engagement broken in favor of her younger sister, <i>ib.</i>;</li> +<li>engaged to Miss Sarah Siddons, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>;</li> +<li>his interest in authors, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>;</li> +<li>criticisms of Fanny Kemble's acting, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>;</li> +<li>"Lawrence is dead," <i>ib.</i>;</li> +<li>anecdotes of, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>;</li> +<li>painting of Satan, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>;</li> +<li>beautiful drawing-room, <i>ib.</i>;</li> +<li>merit as a painter, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>;</li> +<li>pictures of Canning, Lord Aberdeen, and Mr. John Kemble, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>;</li> +<li>his want of conscience, <i>ib.</i>;</li> +<li>print of his portrait of Fanny Kemble, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>;</li> +<li>his criticisms of Fanny Kemble, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_320">320</a>, <a href="#Page_327">327</a>;</li> +<li>lawsuits about theatre patents, <a href="#Page_339">339</a>;</li> +<li>Pickersgill care not to copy, <a href="#Page_365">365</a>;</li> +<li>Duke of Wellington's bitter pill to, <a href="#Page_393">393</a>;</li> +<li>a dangerous companion, <a href="#Page_402">402</a>;</li> +<li>opinion of a Madonna, <a href="#Page_242">242</a>;</li> +<li>picture of Fanny Kemble, the best, <a href="#Page_525">525</a>;</li> +<li>his opinion on theatrical matters, <a href="#Page_577">577</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Lea, girls' school at, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>.</li> +<li>Leach, Sir John, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>.</li> +<li>Leamington, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>.</li> +<li>Lee, the Misses, adaptation of the "Canterbury Tales" to "Father and Son," <a href="#Page_308">308</a>.</li> +<li>Lennox, Lord William, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>.</li> +<li>Leopold, Prince, at Bridgewater House, <a href="#Page_422">422</a>.</li> +<li>Le Sage's novels, <a href="#Page_422">422</a>.</li> +<li>Le Texier, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>.</li> +<li>Levassor, ludicrous account of "Robert the Devil," <a href="#Page_507">507</a>.</li> +<li>Leveson, Lord Francis, his new piece, <a href="#Page_478">478</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>translation of "Henri Trois," <a href="#Page_481">481</a>;</li> +<li>entertainment at Bridgewater House, <a href="#Page_365">365</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Lindley, Miss, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</li> +<li>Liston, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>reciting Collins' "Ode to the Passions," <a href="#Page_460">460</a>;</li> +<li>compared to Reeve, <a href="#Page_508">508</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Liston, the surgeon, beginning of Fanny Kemble's acquaintance with, <a href="#Page_524">524</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>death, <i>ib.</i></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Liverpool, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>railway between and Manchester, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>;</li></ul></li> +<li>Llangollen, <a href="#Page_345">345</a>.</li> +<li>Loch Long, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>.</li> +<li>Locomotives, the first, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>.</li> +<li>Lockhart, reviews "Francis I." instead of Millman, <a href="#Page_512">512</a>.</li> +<li>Lomond, Loch, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>.</li> +<li>London, cholera in, <a href="#Page_502">502</a> +<ul class="IX"><li>farewell to, <a href="#Page_522">522</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Londonderry, Lord, <a href="#Page_398">398</a>.</li> +<li>Lope de Vega, sketch of the life and works of, <a href="#Page_319">319</a>.</li> +<li>Loudham, his hopes of fixing the Chancery suit of Charles Kemble, <a href="#Page_463">463</a>.</li> +<li>Louis Philippe, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>.</li> +<li>Louis XI., his ugly secretary Alin Chartier, <a href="#Page_462">462</a>.</li> +<li>Louis, at Covent Garden Theatre, <a href="#Page_521">521</a>.</li> +<li>Lucifer, Byron's fancy for the character of, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>.</li> +<li>Lyndhurst, Lord, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>.</li> +<li>Lyttleton, Lord ("The Wicked"), <a href="#Page_33">33</a>.</li></ul> +<ul class="IX"><li> +Macaulay, Lord, letter to Mr. Ellis, <a href="#Page_344">344</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>enthusiasm over John Kemble's book on history of the Anglo-Saxons, <a href="#Page_505">505</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>"Macbeth" contrast with the "Tempest", <a href="#Page_292">292</a>.</li> +<li>Macdonald, Sir John, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_486">486</a>, <a href="#Page_502">502</a>.</li> +<li><a name="Page_601" id="Page_601" ></a><span class="pagenum">[601]</span> +Macdonald (sculptor), desiring to make a statue of Fanny Kemble, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_462">462</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>his collection of sculpture, <a href="#Page_343">343</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Macdonald, Lady, "Sir John's General," <a href="#Page_344">344</a>, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>.</li> +<li>Macdonald, James, <a href="#Page_489">489</a>.</li> +<li>Macdonald, Lawrence, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.</li> +<li>Macdonald, Julia, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>.</li> +<li>Mackay, <a href="#Page_442">442</a>, <a href="#Page_488">488</a>.</li> +<li>Macready, at the English theatre in Paris, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>his opinion of Fanny Kemble, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>;</li> +<li>Shakespearean revivals, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>;</li> +<li>his fine acting in "Werner," <a href="#Page_308">308</a>;</li> +<li>success in "The Fatal Dowry," <a href="#Page_318">318</a>;</li> +<li>in "Rienzi," <a href="#Page_354">354</a>;</li> +<li>in "Virginius," <a href="#Page_376">376</a>;</li> +<li>prophecy come true, <a href="#Page_390">390</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Madrid, John Kemble a prisoner at, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>.</li> +<li>Maida, Scott's hound, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>.</li> +<li>"Maid of Honor, The," success of, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>, <a href="#Page_367">367</a>, <a href="#Page_385">385</a>, <a href="#Page_391">391</a>.</li> +<li><a name="ind_malibran"></a>Malibran, Mme., letters to her husband, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>overcome by Charles Kemble's acting, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>;</li> +<li><i>début</i> and death in England, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>;</li> +<li>her professional popularity, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>;</li> +<li>Alfred de Musset's lament for, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>;</li> +<li>her envy of Sontag, in "Romeo and Juliet," <a href="#Page_201">201</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Malahide, Lord Talbot de, <a href="#Page_346">346</a>.</li> +<li>Malebranche, <a href="#Page_441">441</a>.</li> +<li>Malkin, Arthur, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.</li> +<li>Malkin, Benjamin, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.</li> +<li>Malkin, Charles, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.</li> +<li>Malkin, Dr. and Mrs., <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li> +<li>Malkin, Frederick, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.</li> +<li>Malkins, the, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>.</li> +<li>"Malvolio, thou art sick of conceit," <a href="#Page_435">435</a>.</li> +<li>Manchester, the Kembles in "The Gamester," <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>railway between and Liverpool, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_291">291</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Maple, Durham, the vicar of, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>.</li> +<li>Marc Antonio, cast of his skull mistaken for Raphael's, <a href="#Page_528">528</a>.</li> +<li>Marcet, Mrs., <a href="#Page_332">332</a>, <a href="#Page_341">341</a>.</li> +<li><i>Mariana</i>, Fanny Kemble as, <a href="#Page_377">377</a>.</li> +<li><a name="ind_mario"></a>Mario (M. de Candee), intimate friend of Henry Greville, <a href="#Page_497">497</a>.</li> +<li>Marriage, sombre thoughts about, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>.</li> +<li>Marriage, talk about, <a href="#Page_423">423</a>.</li> +<li>Mars, Mlle., <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>in the heroine of "Henri Trois," <a href="#Page_484">484</a>, <a href="#Page_564">564</a>, <a href="#Page_565">565</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>"Marseillaise," Mme. Rachel's rendering of, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>.</li> +<li>Martineau's, Harriet, "Each and All," <a href="#Page_570">570</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>Channing's opinion of her writings, <a href="#Page_578">578</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li><i>Mary Copp</i>, Mrs. Bradshaw in, <a href="#Page_396">396</a>.</li> +<li>"Mary Stuart," <a href="#Page_267">267</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>reasons for not playing, <a href="#Page_370">370</a>, <a href="#Page_549">549</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Maurice, Frederick, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>.</li> +<li>Mason, "Self-Knowledge," <a href="#Page_169">169</a>; in <i>Romeo</i>, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>son of Charles Kemble's sister, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>;</li> +<li>first appearance as <i>Romeo</i>, <a href="#Page_421">421</a>;</li> +<li>discussion about Kean, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>;</li> +<li>speech to the Bristol audience about helping Brunton in his troubles, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>;</li> +<li>the King in "Francis I.," <a href="#Page_508">508</a>, <a href="#Page_510">510</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Mason, Miss, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>.</li> +<li>Massinger, "Maid of Honor," <a href="#Page_255">255</a>, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>"Fatal Dowry," <a href="#Page_318">318</a>;</li> +<li>"Maid of Honor" proposed for Fanny Kemble's "benefit," <a href="#Page_358">358</a>;</li> +<li>plays compared with some others, <a href="#Page_389">389</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li><i>Master Walter</i>, character in "The Hunchback," <a href="#Page_377">377</a>.</li> +<li>Mathews, Charles, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>.</li> +<li>"Mathilde," <a href="#Page_332">332</a>.</li> +<li>Matterhorn, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.</li> +<li>Matuscenitz, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>.</li> +<li>Mayow, Mrs., <a href="#Page_322">322</a>.</li> +<li>Maxwell, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>anecdote of one of that family, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Mayo, Mrs., a brave woman, <a href="#Page_471">471</a>.</li> +<li>Mazzochetti, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>.</li> +<li>McLaren, Duncan, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li> +<li>Meadows, Mr. Drinkwater, <a href="#Page_505">505</a>.</li> +<li>"Medea," <a href="#Page_400">400</a>.</li> +<li>Megrin, St., <a href="#Page_420">420</a>.</li> +<li><a name="ind_melbourne"></a>Melbourne, Lord (William Lamb), <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>, <a href="#Page_357">357</a>.</li> +<li>"Merchant of Venice," <a href="#Page_248">248</a>.</li> +<li>Mellon, Miss (see <a href="#ind_stalbans">St. Albans, Duchess of</a>).</li> +<li>Mendelssohn, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_507">507</a>.</li> +<li>"Merchant of Venice," <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_351">351</a>.</li> +<li><i>Mercutio</i>, <a href="#Page_483">483</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>Charles Kemble in, after his sickness, <a href="#Page_480">480</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Mersey, the, its ancient wanderings, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li> +<li>Meteoric lights, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</li> +<li>Meyerbeer's "Robert the Devil," <a href="#Page_507">507</a>.</li> +<li>Mill, John S., <a href="#Page_122">122</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>John Kemble's admiration for, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Millais' picture of Trelawney as the "Old Sea Captain," <a href="#Page_582">582</a>.</li> +<li>Milnes, Richard M., <a href="#Page_183">183</a>.</li> +<li>Milman, Mrs., <a href="#Page_184">184</a>.</li> +<li>Milman's "Fazio," <a href="#Page_323">323</a>, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>his pleasure at Fanny Kemble's rendering of <i>Bianca</i> in "Fazio," <a href="#Page_334">334</a>, <a href="#Page_341">341</a>, <a href="#Page_390">390</a>;</li> +<li>to review "Francis I." in <i>Quarterly Review</i>, simultaneously with its appearance on the stage, <a href="#Page_502">502</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Milton, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>compared with Byron, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>;</li> +<li>Channing's essay on, <a href="#Page_337">337</a>;</li> +<li>Mrs. Siddons' admiration for, <a href="#Page_416">416</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li><i>Miranda</i>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>.</li> +<li>Mitchell, charge of all Fanny Kemble's readings in America, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.</li> +<li>Mitford, Mary Russell, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>"Inez de Castro," <a href="#Page_323">323</a>;</li> +<li>negotiations with management of Covent Garden about "Inez de Castro," <a href="#Page_354">354</a>;</li> +<li>"Our Village," <a href="#Page_416">416</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Molière, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>.</li> +<li>Monceaux Parc, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>.</li> +<li>Monckton Miss (Lady Cork), <a href="#Page_379">379</a>.</li> +<li>Monk's Grove, <a href="#Page_418">418</a>.</li> +<li>Mons Meg, a famous old gun, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>.</li> +<li>Monson, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>.</li> +<li>Monson, Lady, <a href="#Page_397">397</a>, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>.</li> +<li>Montagu, Mr. and Mrs., <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</li> +<li>Montagu, Mrs., "Our Lady of Bitterness," <a href="#Page_126">126</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>crediting others with her wise and witty sayings, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_353">353</a>, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Montagu Place, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>.</li> +<li>Monte Rosa, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.</li> +<li>Montpensier, Mlle, de, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>.</li> +<li>Moore, Mrs. Thomas, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>.</li> +<li>Moore, Tom, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>"Life of Byron," <a href="#Page_330">330</a>, <a href="#Page_415">415</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Morne Mountains, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>.</li> +<li>Moral Training, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>.</li> +<li>Morgan, Lady, Irish jig, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>French Revolution, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Moscheles, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>.</li> +<li><a name="Page_602" id="Page_602" ></a><span class="pagenum">[602]</span> +Mott, Lucretia, <a href="#Page_543">543</a>.</li> +<li>Mount Vernon, <a href="#Page_567">567</a>.</li> +<li>Mozart's "Nozze," <a href="#Page_159">159</a>.</li> +<li><i>Mrs. Beverley</i>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>.</li> +<li><i>Mrs. Haller</i>, Fanny Kemble in, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>her success in, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>, <a href="#Page_323">323</a>, <a href="#Page_325">325</a>;</li> +<li>dress of, <a href="#Page_327">327</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li><i>Mrs. Oakley</i>, costume for, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>, <a href="#Page_385">385</a>.</li> +<li>"Much Ado about Nothing," <a href="#Page_518">518</a>.</li> +<li>Mulgrave, Lord, <a href="#Page_562">562</a>.</li> +<li>Murphy, Mrs. Jameson's father, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>"Grecian Daughter," <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Murray, Lord, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.</li> +<li>Murray, Wm., <a href="#Page_142">142</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>joint proprietor of Edinburgh Theatre, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>;</li> +<li>his generous price for "Francis I.," <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_309">309</a>;</li> +<li>publishes Fanny Kemble's poems and plays, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>, <a href="#Page_332">332</a>, <a href="#Page_334">334</a>;</li> +<li>£4000 for "Francis I.," <a href="#Page_355">355</a>, <a href="#Page_482">482</a>;</li> +<li>publishing "The Star of Seville," and "Francis I.," <a href="#Page_497">497</a>;</li> +<li>publishes John Kemble's Anglo-Saxon book, <a href="#Page_502">502</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Musset, Alfred de, "lament for Malibran," <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>.</li> +<li>Music, modern and ancient, <a href="#Page_500">500</a>.</li> +<li>Mussy, Dr. Gueneau de, <a href="#Page_566">566</a>.</li></ul> +<ul class="IX"><li> +Naples, King of, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>talk of, <a href="#Page_421">421</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>"Napoleon," <a href="#Page_364">364</a>.</li> +<li>Napoleon, Louis, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>.</li> +<li>Napoleon, Duke of Reichstadt, death of, <a href="#Page_557">557</a>.</li> +<li>Nature, love of, <a href="#Page_501">501</a>.</li> +<li>Negroes, prejudice against, <a href="#Page_542">542</a>.</li> +<li>Netherlands, revolt in, <a href="#Page_294">294</a>.</li> +<li>Neukomm, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>.</li> +<li>Newgate, Fanny Kemble's visit to, <a href="#Page_413">413</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>Mrs. Fry's visits to, <i>ib.</i></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Newman Street, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>.</li> +<li>Newton, "Cardiphonia," <a href="#Page_169">169</a>.</li> +<li>Newton, Stewart, anecdotes of, Royal Academy, <a href="#Page_393">393</a>.</li> +<li>Newton, Gilbert Stewart, "Creaking Door," <a href="#Page_573">573</a>.</li> +<li>New Year, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>2, <a href="#Page_485">485</a>.</li> +<li>New York, first sight of, <a href="#Page_533">533</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>compared with Paris, <a href="#Page_535">535</a>;</li> +<li>fires in, <a href="#Page_537">537</a>;</li> +<li>water in, <a href="#Page_537">537</a>, <a href="#Page_540">540</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Niagara, Falls of, <a href="#Page_579">579</a>, <a href="#Page_581">581</a>.</li> +<li>Nightingale, Florence, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.</li> +<li>Nilsson, Mlle., <a href="#Page_202">202</a>.</li> +<li>Nöel, Sir Gerard, <a href="#Page_372">372</a>.</li> +<li>Norton, Mrs., <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</li> +<li>Norton, George, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>.</li> +<li>Norton, Mrs., anecdote with Hook, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_345">345</a>, <a href="#Page_357">357</a>, <a href="#Page_414">414</a>, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>Hayter's picture, <a href="#Page_487">487</a>, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>, <a href="#Page_504">504</a>, <a href="#Page_510">510</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Normandy, Lord, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>.</li> +<li>"Notre Dame de Paris," <a href="#Page_498">498</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>"bad in tendency and shocking in detail," <a href="#Page_499">499</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Notter, Mr., <a href="#Page_372">372</a>.</li> +<li>Nottingham Castle, <a href="#Page_461">461</a>.</li> +<li>Nourrit, <a href="#Page_462">462</a>.</li> +<li>Nugent, Lady, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li></ul> +<ul class="IX"><li> +Oatlands, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_396">396</a>, <a href="#Page_402">402</a>, <a href="#Page_403">403</a>, <a href="#Page_421">421</a>, <a href="#Page_467">467</a>, <a href="#Page_470">470</a>.</li> +<li>"Oberon," <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>.</li> +<li>"Old Plays" compared with "The Gamester," and "Grecian Daughter," <a href="#Page_385">385</a>.</li> +<li><a name="ind_oneill"></a>O'Neill, Miss, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>appearance, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>;</li> +<li>in "Evadne, or the Statue," and "The Apostate," <a href="#Page_312">312</a>;</li> +<li>Fanny Kemble compared with, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Otway's "Venice Preserved," <a href="#Page_235">235</a>.</li> +<li>Ottley and Saunders, <a href="#Page_319">319</a>.</li> +<li>Owen, the philanthropist, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>.</li></ul> +<ul class="IX"><li> +Paganini, <a href="#Page_416">416</a>, <a href="#Page_434">434</a>, <a href="#Page_466">466</a>.</li> +<li>Panizzi, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>, <a href="#Page_546">546</a>.</li> +<li>"Paradise Lost," <a href="#Page_59">59</a>.</li> +<li>Paris, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>.</li> +<li>Parliament, <a href="#Page_421">421</a>.</li> +<li>Pasta, Mme., <a href="#Page_428">428</a>, <a href="#Page_441">441</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>Pasta's <i>Medea</i>, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>;</li> +<li><i>Anna Bolena</i>, <a href="#Page_444">444</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Pasta's daughter, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>.</li> +<li>Paton, Miss, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>.</li> +<li>Patti, Adalina, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>.</li> +<li>"Paul Clifford," <a href="#Page_286">286</a>.</li> +<li>Peaches, in America, <a href="#Page_559">559</a>.</li> +<li>Peacock, Mr., <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.</li> +<li>"Pedro the Cruel," <a href="#Page_354">354</a>.</li> +<li>"Peerage and Peasantry, Tales of the," <a href="#Page_348">348</a>.</li> +<li>Percival, Mr., in House of Commons, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>.</li> +<li>Peterborough, Earl of, marriage to Anastasia Robinson, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>.</li> +<li>Petrarch's sonnets, <a href="#Page_346">346</a>.</li> +<li>"Philaster," <a href="#Page_385">385</a>.</li> +<li>Philippe, Mons., <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.</li> +<li>Phillips, Miss, <a href="#Page_464">464</a>.</li> +<li>Phrenological Museum, <a href="#Page_527">527</a>.</li> +<li>Pickersgill, portrait of Fanny Kemble, <a href="#Page_362">362</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>portrait of Charles Kemble in <i>Macbeth</i>, <a href="#Page_366">366</a>;</li> +<li>picture "Medora," <a href="#Page_390">390</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Planché, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li> +<li>Plague, the, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>.</li> +<li>Plessis, Mlle., <a href="#Page_258">258</a>.</li> +<li>Plymouth, <a href="#Page_416">416</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_444">444</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>farewell to, <a href="#Page_44">44</a></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Plymouth Rock, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>.</li> +<li>Poitier, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>in the "Vaudeville," <a href="#Page_483">483</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Poland, discussion between Charles Kemble and Kean, <a href="#Page_440">440</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>early history of, <a href="#Page_495">495</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Poles, the, <a href="#Page_359">359</a>.</li> +<li><i>Polly</i>, Miss Sheriff as, <a href="#Page_471">471</a>.</li> +<li>Ponsonby, Miss, <a href="#Page_345">345</a>.</li> +<li>Poole, Miss, as <i>Tom Thumb</i>, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>.</li> +<li><i>Portia</i>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>Fanny Kemble's first appearance as, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>;</li> +<li>character of, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>;</li> +<li>costumes of, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>, <a href="#Page_352">352</a>;</li> +<li>compared with <i>Camiola</i>, <a href="#Page_367">367</a>, <a href="#Page_397">397</a>, <a href="#Page_414">414</a>;</li> +<li>at Bristol, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>, <a href="#Page_532">532</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Portland, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>.</li> +<li>Portmore Park, <a href="#Page_388">388</a>.</li> +<li>Portsmouth, <a href="#Page_451">451</a>.</li> +<li>Power, Mr., <a href="#Page_485">485</a>.</li> +<li>Power, Tyrone, <a href="#Page_489">489</a>.</li> +<li>Princes Street, incident with Scott on, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>.</li> +<li>Procter, Adelaide, her "doomed" appearance, <a href="#Page_499">499</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>reading description of Esmeralda and sketch of Quasimodo's life, <a href="#Page_499">499</a>, <a href="#Page_516">516</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Procter, Bryan Waller (Barry Cornwall), marriage to Anne Skeeper, <a href="#Page_353">353</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>"White Devil," <a href="#Page_353">353</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Proctor, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_342">342</a>.</li> +<li>Proctor, Mrs., her habit of crediting others with her wise sayings, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>.</li> +<li>Proctor, Emily, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>.</li> +<li><a name="Page_603" id="Page_603" ></a><span class="pagenum">[603]</span> +"Prometheus unbound," <a href="#Page_496">496</a>.</li> +<li><i>Prospero</i>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>.</li> +<li>"Provoked Husband, The," <a href="#Page_315">315</a>, <a href="#Page_328">328</a>, <a href="#Page_504">504</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>at Southampton, <a href="#Page_453">453</a>;</li> +<li>at Fanny Kemble's benefit, <a href="#Page_529">529</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Pickersgill, <a href="#Page_365">365</a>.</li></ul> +<ul class="IX"><li> +Queen, the, at Bridgewater House, <a href="#Page_422">422</a>.</li> +<li>"Quentin Durward," <a href="#Page_444">444</a>.</li> +<li><i>Quarterly Review</i>, its critique of "Francis I.," <a href="#Page_516">516</a>.</li></ul> +<ul class="IX"><li> +Rachel, Mlle., her performance of <i>Camille</i>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>Jules Janin's first notice of her, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Racine, <a href="#Page_307">307</a>, <a href="#Page_410">410</a>.</li> +<li>Radley, Mr., of the Adelphi, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>.</li> +<li>Railroads in England, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>between Liverpool and Manchester, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Ramahun Roy, the Rajah, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_479">479</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>general appearance, <a href="#Page_515">515</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Raphael, his skull, <a href="#Page_528">528</a>.</li> +<li>Reade, Charles, "The King's Wager," <a href="#Page_308">308</a>.</li> +<li>Redcliffe Church, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>.</li> +<li>Reeve compared with Liston, <a href="#Page_508">508</a>.</li> +<li>Reform Bill, <a href="#Page_344">344</a>, <a href="#Page_394">394</a>, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>, <a href="#Page_460">460</a>, <a href="#Page_478">478</a>.</li> +<li>Regalia, Scottish, incident of, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>.</li> +<li>Reichardt, or Reis, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>.</li> +<li>Religious faith, <a href="#Page_476">476</a>.</li> +<li>Retsch's illustrations of "Hamlet," <a href="#Page_373">373</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>disinclination for illustrating "Romeo and Juliet," <i>ib.</i>;</li> +<li>illustrations of "Faust," <a href="#Page_374">374</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Revolution of <a href="#Page_183">183</a>0, the, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>.</li> +<li>Revolution, Spanish, <a href="#Page_335">335</a>, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>, <a href="#Page_356">356</a>, <a href="#Page_359">359</a>, <a href="#Page_478">478</a>, <a href="#Page_479">479</a>, <a href="#Page_484">484</a>.</li> +<li>Rhodez, scene of the Fauldes Tragedy, <a href="#Page_466">466</a>.</li> +<li>"Richard III.," <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.</li> +<li>Richter, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.</li> +<li>"Rienzi," <a href="#Page_354">354</a>.</li> +<li>Rigby, Mr., <a href="#Page_4">4</a>.</li> +<li>Rio, M., <a href="#Page_73">73</a>.</li> +<li>Ristori, <a href="#Page_571">571</a>.</li> +<li>Rivens, Lady, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>.</li> +<li>"Robert the Devil" at Covent Garden, <a href="#Page_507">507</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>M. Levassor's ludicrous account of, <a href="#Page_507">507</a>, <a href="#Page_509">509</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Robertson, Frederick, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</li> +<li>Robinson, Anastasia, marriage to Earl of Peterborough, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>.</li> +<li>"Rob Roy," <a href="#Page_488">488</a>.</li> +<li>Rogers, <a href="#Page_379">379</a>, <a href="#Page_504">504</a></li> +<li>"Roman de la Rose." <a href="#Page_357">357</a>.</li> +<li>"Romeo and Juliet," <a href="#Page_257">257</a>, <a href="#Page_342">342</a>, <a href="#Page_414">414</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>at Bristol, <a href="#Page_424">424</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>;</li> +<li>at Weymouth, <a href="#Page_449">449</a>;</li> +<li>at Southampton, <a href="#Page_452">452</a>, <a href="#Page_485">485</a>;</li> +<li>John Mason's first appearance in, <a href="#Page_486">486</a>, <a href="#Page_523">523</a>;</li> +<li>in New York, <a href="#Page_542">542</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Romilly, Mrs. Edward, <a href="#Page_342">342</a>.</li> +<li>Romillys, the, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>.</li> +<li>Rossini, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>.</li> +<li>Roxelane, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>.</li> +<li>Rowden, Mrs., <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.</li> +<li>Russell, Earl, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>, <a href="#Page_404">404</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>appearance of, <a href="#Page_492">492</a>;</li> +<li>incident of Sir Robert Inglis, <a href="#Page_493">493</a>;</li> +<li>responsibility in Reform Bill, <a href="#Page_494">494</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>"Rush-bearing," a, <a href="#Page_296">296</a>.</li> +<li>Ruthven, his proceeding toward Mary Stuart, <a href="#Page_489">489</a>.</li> +<li>Rutland, Duke of, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.</li> +<li>Rye, <a href="#Page_521">521</a>.</li></ul> +<ul class="IX"><li> +Sackville, <a href="#Page_462">462</a>.</li> +<li>"Sacrament," preparation, <a href="#Page_403">403</a>.</li> +<li>"Sakuntalà," <a href="#Page_178">178</a>.</li> +<li>De Sales, Francis, <a href="#Page_426">426</a>.</li> +<li>Salisbury, Lady, in "Isaure," <a href="#Page_382">382</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>"Wednesday Morning" at Hatfield House, <a href="#Page_394">394</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Salmon, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>.</li> +<li>"Salmonia," <a href="#Page_539">539</a>.</li> +<li>Sandwich, Earl of, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</li> +<li>Saunders and Ottley, <a href="#Page_319">319</a>.</li> +<li>Savoy, Louisa of, <a href="#Page_509">509</a>.</li> +<li>Schiller, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>"Mary Stuart," <a href="#Page_312">312</a>.</li> +<li>"School for Scandal," incident of Miss Farren and Lord Derby in, <a href="#Page_452">452</a>;</li> +<li>at Southampton, <a href="#Page_454">454</a>, <a href="#Page_487">487</a>, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>;</li> +<li>in New York, <a href="#Page_543">543</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Schlegel's "Dramatic Lectures," <a href="#Page_486">486</a></li> +<li>Scotland, regalia of, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>.</li> +<li><i>Scotsman, The</i>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li> +<li>Scott, Anne, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>.</li> +<li>Scott, Walter, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>,157; +<ul class="IX"><li>"Border Minstrelsy," <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>;</li> +<li>criticisms on Fanny Kemble's acting, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>;</li> +<li>anecdote of Scottish regalia, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>;</li> +<li>opinion of Fanny Kemble as compared with Mrs. Siddons, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>;</li> +<li>incident at Abbotsford, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>, <a href="#Page_444">444</a>;</li> +<li>caution in regard to <i>Waverley Novels</i>, <a href="#Page_488">488</a>, <a href="#Page_521">521</a>, <a href="#Page_527">527</a>;</li> +<li>death, <a href="#Page_557">557</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Scottish Regalia, incident of, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>.</li> +<li>Scribe's "<i>Les premières Amours</i>," <a href="#Page_419">419</a>.</li> +<li>Searle, Miss, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>.</li> +<li>Sedgwick's, Miss, "Hope Leslie," <a href="#Page_577">577</a>.</li> +<li>Semiramis, Queen, as a dramatic writer, <a href="#Page_447">447</a>.</li> +<li>Sentiment, books of, <a href="#Page_506">506</a>.</li> +<li>Serenading, <a href="#Page_470">470</a>.</li> +<li>Sévigné, Madame de, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>, <a href="#Page_320">320</a>.</li> +<li>Shakespeare, Plays at Paris, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li><i>Portia</i>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>;</li> +<li>"Romeo and Juliet," the ending restored, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>;</li> +<li>claim of his plays to perfect representation, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>;</li> +<li>his plays compared with "Grecian Daughter," <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>;</li> +<li>compared with Goethe, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>;</li> +<li>"Romeo and Juliet," <a href="#Page_342">342</a>;</li> +<li>treatment of passion of hatred, <a href="#Page_351">351</a>, <a href="#Page_389">389</a>;</li> +<li><i>knowing</i> and <i>knowing about</i> him, <a href="#Page_396">396</a>;</li> +<li>Mrs. Siddons' admiration for, <a href="#Page_416">416</a>, <a href="#Page_486">486</a>;</li> +<li>discussion about, <a href="#Page_522">522</a>;</li> +<li>beauty of his songs, <a href="#Page_505">505</a>;</li> +<li>reiteration of expressions of grief, <a href="#Page_514">514</a>;</li> +<li>Mrs. Jameson's book on his female characters, issued, <a href="#Page_531">531</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Shannon, Rev. Win., <a href="#Page_164">164</a>.</li> +<li>Sharp "conversation," <a href="#Page_504">504</a>.</li> +<li>Sheil, "Evadne, or the Statue," and "The Apostate," <a href="#Page_312">312</a>.</li> +<li>Shelley, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>his passion for fire-gazing, <a href="#Page_325">325</a>, <a href="#Page_334">334</a>;</li> +<li>the Cenci;</li> +<li>translation of Calderon's "El Magico Prodigioso;"</li> +<li>"Faust," <a href="#Page_384">384</a>;</li> +<li>"Prometheus Unbound," <a href="#Page_496">496</a>, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>;</li> +<li>"The Sensitive Plant," and "Rosalind and Helen," <a href="#Page_498">498</a>;</li> +<li>"The Two Sisters," <a href="#Page_499">499</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Shelley, Capt., in "Hernani", <a href="#Page_404">404</a>.</li> +<li>Sheriff, Miss, her <i>début</i>, <a href="#Page_464">464</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>in "Artaxerxes," <a href="#Page_465">465</a>;</li> +<li><a name="Page_604" id="Page_604" ></a><span class="pagenum">[604]</span> +in "Fra Diavolo," <a href="#Page_469">469</a>;</li> +<li>in "Polly," <a href="#Page_471">471</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Sheridan, Caroline, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>.</li> +<li>Sheridan, Chas., <a href="#Page_173">173</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>manager of Drury Lane, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Sheridan, Georgiana, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_510">510</a>.</li> +<li>Sheridan, Mrs. (Miss Callender), <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</li> +<li>Sheridan, Richard Brinsley, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</li> +<li>Shirley's "Gentleman of Venice," <a href="#Page_513">513</a>.</li> +<li><i>Shylock</i>, <a href="#Page_351">351</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>analysis of the character, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Siddons, Cecilia, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_323">323</a>, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>picture by Clint, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>;</li> +<li>plans after her mother's death, <a href="#Page_416">416</a>, <a href="#Page_466">466</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Siddons, Elizabeth, <a href="#Page_291">291</a>.</li> +<li>Siddons, "Lizzy," <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.</li> +<li>Siddons, "Sally and Lizzy," <a href="#Page_342">342</a>.</li> +<li>Siddons, George, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, <a href="#Page_323">323</a>; Mrs. George, <a href="#Page_158">158</a></li> +<li>Siddons, Harriet, <a href="#Page_323">323</a>.</li> +<li>Siddons, Henry, management of the Edinburgh Theatre, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>death, <i>ib.</i>;</li> +<li>arrival in India and departure for Delhi, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_470">470</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Siddons, Mrs. Henry, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_291">291</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a>, <a href="#Page_359">359</a>, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>.</li> +<li>Siddons. Maria, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, +<ul class="IX"><li>engaged to Sir Thomas Lawrence, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>;</li> +<li>death, <i>ib.</i></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Siddons, Sarah, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>in <i>Louisa of Savoy</i>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>;</li> +<li>painting by Gainsborough, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>;</li> +<li>in <i>Elvira</i>, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>;</li> +<li>costume in the "Grecian Daughter," <a href="#Page_190">190</a>;</li> +<li>as <i>Hamlet</i>, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>;</li> +<li>Lawrence's admiration for, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>;</li> +<li>wishes to be carried to her grave by Lawrence, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>;</li> +<li>indifference, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>;</li> +<li>Fanny Kemble compared with, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>;</li> +<li>in <i>Euphrasia</i>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>;</li> +<li>shocked at Lawrence's death, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>;</li> +<li>Edinburgh audiences, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>:</li> +<li>repeating <i>Lady Macbeth</i> to an enthusiastic audience, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>;</li> +<li>opinion of, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>;</li> +<li>dearest friend, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>;</li> +<li>in <i>Mrs. Haller</i> and "The Fair Penitent," <a href="#Page_318">318</a>;</li> +<li>Christmas eve at her house, <a href="#Page_322">322</a>, <a href="#Page_337">337</a>;</li> +<li>advantage over Fanny Kemble, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>, <a href="#Page_345">345</a>;</li> +<li>Lord Lansdowne's admiration for, <a href="#Page_349">349</a>, <a href="#Page_396">396</a>;</li> +<li>failing health, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>;</li> +<li>Milton and Shakespeare, <a href="#Page_416">416</a>;</li> +<li>her death, <a href="#Page_416">416</a>;</li> +<li>her abuse of Austria in "King John," <a href="#Page_446">446</a>;</li> +<li>her letters, <a href="#Page_452">452</a>;</li> +<li><i>Queen Katharine</i>, <a href="#Page_459">459</a>;</li> +<li>her letters revised by Emily Fitzhugh, <a href="#Page_477">477</a>;</li> +<li><i>Lady Macbeth</i>, <a href="#Page_478">478</a>;</li> +<li>"sketches" of <i>Constance</i> and <i>Lady Macbeth</i>, <a href="#Page_517">517</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Siddons, Mrs. Scott-, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li> +<li>Shaw, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>.</li> +<li>Sismondi, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>.</li> +<li>Sinclair, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.</li> +<li>Skeeper, Anne, marriage to Barry Cornwall, <a href="#Page_353">353</a>.</li> +<li>Skerries, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>, <a href="#Page_329">329</a>.</li> +<li>Slavery in America, <a href="#Page_543">543</a>.</li> +<li>Smart, Sir George, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>.</li> +<li>Smiles, his biography of Stephenson, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>.</li> +<li>Smith's "National Scottish Songs," <a href="#Page_160">160</a>.</li> +<li>Smith, Bobus, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>.</li> +<li>Smith, James, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li> +<li>Smith, Sidney, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>, <a href="#Page_504">504</a></li> +<li>Smithson, Miss, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> +<li>Solomon, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</li> +<li>Somerset, Duchess of, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_510">510</a>.</li> +<li>"Sonnambula," <a href="#Page_507">507</a>.</li> +<li>Sontag, appearance with Malibran in "Romeo and Juliet," <a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>.</li> +<li>Sotheby ("the poet"), <a href="#Page_350">350</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>"Darnley," <a href="#Page_370">370</a>;</li> +<li>comments on Fanny Kemble's beauty, <a href="#Page_370">370</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Southampton, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>, <a href="#Page_416">416</a>, <a href="#Page_451">451</a>.</li> +<li>Spain, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>.</li> +<li>Spaniards, John Kemble delivered to the, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>.</li> +<li>Spanish expedition, <a href="#Page_326">326</a>.</li> +<li>Spanish revolution, <a href="#Page_335">335</a>, <a href="#Page_336">336</a>, <a href="#Page_356">356</a>, <a href="#Page_359">359</a>, <a href="#Page_478">478</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>Torrijos and his friends shot, <a href="#Page_479">479</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Spedding, James, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>.</li> +<li>Spenser, poetry of, <a href="#Page_358">358</a>.</li> +<li>Spurzheim, his philosophy of phrenology, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>death in Boston, <a href="#Page_558">558</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Stafford, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_297">297</a>.</li> +<li>St. Albans, Duke of, marriage, <a href="#Page_392">392</a>.</li> +<li><a name="ind_stalbans"></a>St. Albans, Duchess of, Miss Mellon and Mrs. Coutts, <a href="#Page_391">391</a>.</li> +<li>St. Anne's Hill, <a href="#Page_418">418</a>.</li> +<li>St. Aubin, Mr., in "Hernani" at Bridgewater House, <a href="#Page_376">376</a>, <a href="#Page_396">396</a>, <a href="#Page_421">421</a>.</li> +<li>Stansbury, Mr., <a href="#Page_472">472</a>.</li> +<li>"Star of Seville," <a href="#Page_319">319</a>, <a href="#Page_389">389</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>finished, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>;</li> +<li>unbecoming language of, <a href="#Page_423">423</a>, <a href="#Page_435">435</a>, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>, <a href="#Page_472">472</a>, <a href="#Page_478">478</a>, <a href="#Page_479">479</a>. <a href="#Page_480">480</a>;</li> +<li>reading it to the family, <a href="#Page_489">489</a>;</li> +<li>"cut" for the stage, <a href="#Page_495">495</a>;</li> +<li>publication, <a href="#Page_497">497</a>, <a href="#Page_514">514</a>;</li> +<li>brought out first in New York, <a href="#Page_554">554</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Stein, Madame von, Goethe's letters to, <a href="#Page_339">339</a></li> +<li>Stephens (see <a href="#ind_essex">Essex, Countess of</a>).</li> +<li>Stephenson, Geo., first experiment at a railway, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>characteristics, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_455">455</a>;</li> +<li>contrasted with Lord Alvanley, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Sterling, John, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>daily promise, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>;</li> +<li>marriage, <a href="#Page_326">326</a>;</li> +<li>in Spanish expedition, <i>ib.</i></li> +</ul></li> +<li>Sterky, Mr., <a href="#Page_321">321</a>.</li> +<li>Stewart, Charles Edward (the Pretender), relics of, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>.</li> +<li>Stewart, Mary, <a href="#Page_489">489</a>.</li> +<li>St. Lawrence, Rapids of the, <a href="#Page_380">380</a>.</li> +<li>St. Maur, Lady (nee Georgiana Sheriden).</li> +<li>St. Paul's, Lawrence's burial in, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>.</li> +<li>"Stranger, The," <a href="#Page_315">315</a>, <a href="#Page_327">327</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>at Plymouth, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>;</li> +<li>Charles Young in, <a href="#Page_462">462</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>St. Sidwell's church, <a href="#Page_440">440</a>.</li> +<li>Storace, <a href="#Page_500">500</a>.</li> +<li>Stukely, <a href="#Page_440">440</a>, <a href="#Page_446">446</a>.</li> +<li>Singer, a diminutive, <a href="#Page_453">453</a>.</li> +<li>Sullivan, Mrs., <a href="#Page_341">341</a>, <a href="#Page_348">348</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>Rev. Fred., <a href="#Page_348">348</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Sully, his picture of Fanny Kemble as <i>Beatrice</i>, <a href="#Page_367">367</a>.</li> +<li>Sumner, Charles, <a href="#Page_543">543</a>.</li> +<li>Switzerland, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>.</li></ul> +<ul class="IX"><li> +Taglioni, <a href="#Page_400">400</a>, <a href="#Page_564">564</a>.</li> +<li>Talbot, Colonel, <a href="#Page_346">346</a>.</li> +<li>Tales of a chaperon, <a href="#Page_348">348</a>.</li> +<li>Talma, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.</li> +<li>"Tasso," <a href="#Page_351">351</a></li> +<li>Taylor, Jeremy, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li> +<li>Taylor, Tom, "The King's Wager," <a href="#Page_308">308</a>.</li> +<li>Taylor, Miss, as <i>Helen</i> in the "Hunchback," <a href="#Page_378">378</a>, <a href="#Page_519">519</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>as <i>Margaret de Valois</i> in "Francis I.," <a href="#Page_508">508</a>;</li> +<li>in "The Hunchback," <a href="#Page_519">519</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>"Tempest, The," <a href="#Page_269">269</a>, <a href="#Page_555">555</a>.</li> +<li>Tennyson, Alfred, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>his brothers, <a href="#Page_483">483</a>;</li> +<li>first poems, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>;</li> +<li>"The May Queen," "Œnone," and the "Miller's Daughter," <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, <a href="#Page_294">294</a>;</li> +<li><a name="Page_605" id="Page_605" ></a><span class="pagenum">[605]</span> +an unpromising exterior, <a href="#Page_519">519</a>;</li> +<li>poems of, <a href="#Page_581">581</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Terry, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.</li> +<li>Thackeray, W.M., <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>broken nose, <a href="#Page_490">490</a>, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Thackeray, Dr., <a href="#Page_393">393</a>.</li> +<li>Thames Tunnel, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.</li> +<li>Theatre Français, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>.</li> +<li>Theatre patents, <a href="#Page_339">339</a>.</li> +<li>Therëse Heyne (Madame Huber), <a href="#Page_347">347</a>.</li> +<li>Thorwaldsen, <a href="#Page_343">343</a>.</li> +<li>Tieck, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_353">353</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>"The Elves," <a href="#Page_516">516</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Titian's Venuses, and "Venus and Adonis," <a href="#Page_271">271</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>Bacchus and Ariadne, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Tiverton, the member for, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>.</li> +<li><i>Tom Thumb</i>, Miss Poole as, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>.</li> +<li>Torrijos, General, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>, <a href="#Page_326">326</a>, <a href="#Page_356">356</a>.</li> +<li>Tree, Miss Ellen, as <i>Romeo</i>, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>.</li> +<li>Tree, Miss (Mrs. Bradshaw), <a href="#Page_497">497</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>as <i>Françoise de Foix</i>, in "Francis I.," <a href="#Page_508">508</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Trelawney, Mr., <a href="#Page_436">436</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>author of "Adventures of a Younger Son," <a href="#Page_582">582</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Trench, Richard, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>return from Spain, <a href="#Page_356">356</a>;</li> +<li>share in Spanish exhibition, <a href="#Page_376">376</a>;</li> +<li>shot in Spain, <a href="#Page_479">479</a>, <a href="#Page_514">514</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Trenton Falls, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>.</li> +<li>"Tristram Shandy," <a href="#Page_519">519</a>.</li> +<li>Trueba, Don Telesforo de, "The Exquisites," <a href="#Page_395">395</a>, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>.</li> +<li>Turnerelli, his bust of Fanny Kemble, <a href="#Page_365">365</a>, <a href="#Page_499">499</a></li> +<li>Tweed, Scott's residence on the, <a href="#Page_265">265</a>.</li> +<li>Twiss, Horace, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>put into Parliament by Lord Clarendon, <a href="#Page_335">335</a>;</li> +<li>aspect at defeat of Reform Bill, <a href="#Page_344">344</a>;</li> +<li>speech on Reform Bill, <a href="#Page_344">344</a>, <a href="#Page_387">387</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Twiss, Horace's father, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>.</li> +<li>Twiss, John, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>.</li> +<li>Twiss, Miss, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li> +<li>Twiss, Mrs., <a href="#Page_256">256</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>the Misses, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li><br /> +"Vivian Grey," <a href="#Page_122">122</a>.</li> +<li>Vinci, Leonardo da, <a href="#Page_476">476</a>.</li> +<li><i>Victorine</i>, <a href="#Page_507">507</a>.</li> +<li>Victoria, Princess, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>.</li> +<li>Viardot, Mme., <a href="#Page_205">205</a>.</li> +<li>Vestris, Madame, <a href="#Page_383">383</a>.</li> +<li>"Vestiges of Creation," <a href="#Page_161">161</a>.</li> +<li>"Venice, Gentleman of," <a href="#Page_513">513</a>.</li> +<li>"Venice, History of." <a href="#Page_474">474</a>, <a href="#Page_513">513</a>.</li> +<li>"Venice Preserved," <a href="#Page_425">425</a>, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>, <a href="#Page_444">444</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>at Weymouth, <a href="#Page_451">451</a>, <a href="#Page_470">470</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Vanbrugh, Sir John, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>.</li> +<li>"Valeria," <a href="#Page_436">436</a>.</li></ul> +<ul class="IX"><li> +Wade, his plays "The Jew of Aragon" and "Griselda," <a href="#Page_306">306</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>self-control, <a href="#Page_307">307</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Wainwright, Dr., <a href="#Page_544">544</a>.</li> +<li>Waldegrave, Lord, <a href="#Page_417">417</a>.</li> +<li>Wales, Prince of, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.</li> +<li>Wales, Princess of, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>.</li> +<li>Wallack, J.W., <a href="#Page_539">539</a>.</li> +<li>Wallenstein, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>.</li> +<li>Walpole, Horace, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>, <a href="#Page_414">414</a>.</li> +<li>Ward, <a href="#Page_366">366</a>, <a href="#Page_484">484</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li><i>Joseph Surface</i>, <a href="#Page_487">487</a>;</li> +<li>in "Katharine of Cleves," <a href="#Page_489">489</a>;</li> +<li>as <i>Fazio</i>, <a href="#Page_323">323</a>;</li> +<li>as <i>The Monk</i> in "Francis I.," <a href="#Page_508">508</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Warwick Castle, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li> +<li>Warwick, Lord, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>.</li> +<li>Washington, George, <a href="#Page_567">567</a>.</li> +<li>Water in New York, <a href="#Page_537">537</a>.</li> +<li>Watson, Dr., <a href="#Page_463">463</a>.</li> +<li>Weber, Baron Carl Maria von, "Der Freyschütz," <a href="#Page_94">94</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>"Oberon," <a href="#Page_95">95</a>;</li> +<li>"Always my music, but never myself," <a href="#Page_96">96</a>;</li> +<li>appearance and manner, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>;</li> +<li>impatience with Braham and Miss Paton, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>;</li> +<li>Huon's opening song, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>;</li> +<li>death, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Webster, Daniel, speeches of, <a href="#Page_547">547</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>letters of introduction to, <a href="#Page_561">561</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>"Wednesday Morning," <a href="#Page_390">390</a>, <a href="#Page_393">393</a>, <a href="#Page_394">394</a>.</li> +<li>Wellington, Duke of, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>at opening of new railroad, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>, <a href="#Page_304">304</a>;</li> +<li>bitter pill to Lawrence, <a href="#Page_393">393</a>, <a href="#Page_460">460</a>;</li> +<li>threatening to pull down his statue, <a href="#Page_461">461</a>, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Welsh, Mr., Miss Sheriff's instructor, <a href="#Page_464">464</a>.</li> +<li>West Indies, <a href="#Page_483">483</a>.</li> +<li>West India Dock, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.</li> +<li>Westmacott, editor of the <i>Age</i>, thrashed by Charles Kemble, <a href="#Page_310">310</a>, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>.</li> +<li>Westminster Abbey, John Kemble's monument, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>.</li> +<li>Westminster, Henry Kemble's education at, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>, <a href="#Page_482">482</a>.</li> +<li>Westminster Committee, The, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li> +<li>Weybridge, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_388">388</a>, <a href="#Page_396">396</a>, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>, <a href="#Page_442">442</a>.</li> +<li>Weymouth, <a href="#Page_449">449</a>.</li> +<li>Wieland, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li> +<li>Willet, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>.</li> +<li>William IV., <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li> +<li>Wharncliffe, Earl of (see <a href="#ind_wortley">Wortley, James</a>, <a href="#Page_349">349</a>).</li> +<li>"White Devil, The," <a href="#Page_353">353</a>.</li> +<li>Whitelock, Mrs., <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_355">355</a>, <a href="#Page_418">418</a>, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>.</li> +<li>"Wife of Antwerp, The," <a href="#Page_475">475</a>.</li> +<li>"Wilhelm Meister," <a href="#Page_339">339</a>.</li> +<li>Wilkes, <a href="#Page_490">490</a>.</li> +<li>Wilkinson, Mrs., <a href="#Page_466">466</a>.</li> +<li>Willett, Mr., <a href="#Page_513">513</a>.</li> +<li>William IV., his natural son by Mrs. Jordan, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>, <a href="#Page_390">390</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>ignorance of art, <a href="#Page_393">393</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Wilmot, Mr., <a href="#Page_348">348</a>.</li> +<li>Wilson, Dr., <a href="#Page_462">462</a>, <a href="#Page_463">463</a>.</li> +<li>Wilson, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>; in "Artaxerxes," <a href="#Page_465">465</a>.</li> +<li>Winckelmann, his work on classical art, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>.</li> +<li>Wood, Mr., <a href="#Page_98">98</a>.</li> +<li>Worcester (see <a href="#ind_beaufort">Beaufort, Duke of</a>).</li> +<li>Wordsworth, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</li> +<li>Worsley, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>.</li> +<li>Worsley Hall, <a href="#Page_375">375</a>.</li> +<li><a name="ind_wortley"></a>Wortley, James, <a href="#Page_342">342</a>, <a href="#Page_349">349</a>.</li> +<li>Wraxall, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li> +<li>Wray, Miss. <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</li> +<li>Wroxton Abbey, <a href="#Page_388">388</a>.</li></ul> +<ul class="IX"><li> +Yates, Mr., as a friend, <a href="#Page_508">508</a>.</li> +<li>Yates, Mrs., in "Victorine," <a href="#Page_507">507</a>.</li> +<li>York, Archbishop of, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>.</li> +<li>York, Duchess of, <a href="#Page_403">403</a>.</li> +<li>York, Duke of, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.</li> +<li>Young, Charles, anecdotes of, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>; +<ul class="IX"><li>accomplishments and disposition, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>;</li> +<li>death at Brighton, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>;</li> +<li>in "Rienzi," <a href="#Page_354">354</a>;</li> +<li>at Bridgewater House, <a href="#Page_421">421</a>;</li> +<li>as <i>Pierre</i>, <a href="#Page_461">461</a>;</li> +<li>in "The Stranger," <a href="#Page_462">462</a>;</li> +<li>helping Covent Garden, <a href="#Page_464">464</a>, <a href="#Page_472">472</a>.</li> +</ul></li> +<li>Young, Rev. Julian, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>, <a href="#Page_504">504</a>.</li></ul> +<ul class="IX"><li> +Zanga, <a href="#Page_351">351</a>.</li> +<li>Zermatt, Mount. <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.</li></ul> +</div> <!-- end of index --> + + +<div class="transnote"> +<h3><a name="ind_note" ></a>Transcriber's note</h3> + +<p>The following names were changed in the index for consistency with the +text:</p> + +<div class="center"> +<table summary="List of names changed in the index"> + <tr><td></td><td><i>Changed from</i></td></tr> + <tr><td>Alleghany </td><td>Allegheny</td></tr> +<tr><td>Belzoni </td><td>Belzini</td></tr> +<tr><td>Biagioli </td><td>Biagoli</td></tr> +<tr><td>Der Freyschütz </td><td>Der Freyschutz</td></tr> +<tr><td>Flore, Mlle. </td><td>Floré, Mlle.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Foscolo, Ugo </td><td>Foscolo, Uga</td></tr> +<tr><td>Nourrit </td><td>Nourritt</td></tr> +<tr><td>Pickersgill </td><td>Puckersgill</td></tr> +<tr><td>Roxelane </td><td>Roxelaine</td></tr> +<tr><td>Sakuntalà </td><td>Sakuntala</td></tr> +<tr><td>Sonnambula </td><td>Somnambula</td></tr> +<tr><td>Therëse Heyne </td><td>Therese Heyne</td></tr> +<tr><td>Winckelmann </td><td>Winckelman</td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"></td></tr> + +<tr><td>César Malan </td><td>Cesar Malan (under Kemble, Frances Anne)</td></tr> +<tr><td>Joséphine </td><td>Josephine (Bonaparte's letters to, under +Kemble, Frances Anne)</td></tr> +<tr><td>Françoise de Foix </td><td>Francoise de Foix (under Tree, Miss)</td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +</div> +<hr /> + +<p><a name="Page_606" id="Page_606" ></a><span class="pagenum">[606]</span></p> +<p class="center"><a name="Page_607" id="Page_607" ></a><span class="pagenum">[607]</span> +<i>PUBLISHED BY HENRY HOLT & CO.</i></p> + + +<p class="squeeze"><b>KEMBLE'S (FRANCES ANN) RECORDS OF A GIRLHOOD.</b></p> + +<p class="little squeeze">Large 12mo. With Portrait. $2.50.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"The book is so charming, so entertaining, so stamped with the +impress of a strong, remarkable, various nature, that we feel +almost tormented in being treated to a view only of the youthful +phases of character. Like most of the novels that we read, or don't +read, this volume is the history of a young lady's entrance into +life. Mrs. Kemble's young lady is a very brilliant and charming +one, and our only complaint is that we part company with her too +soon.... What we have here, however, is excellent reading.... She +is naturally a writer; she has a style of her own which is full of +those felicities of expression that indicate the literary +sense."—<i>Nation</i>.</p> + +<hr class="ads squeeze" /> + + +<p class="center" style="margin-bottom: 0;"><b>THE AMATEUR SERIES.</b></p> + +<p class="center nogap" >12mo, blue cloth.</p> + +<p class="squeeze"><b>English Actors from Shakespeare to Macready.</b> By <span class="smcap">Henry Barton Baker.</span> +Two vols. $3.50</p> + +<p class="blurb">"Mr. Baker's business is with the adventures and the art of our +principal players; and he rarely, if ever, departs from his +well-considered plan to discuss the literature of the theatre. His +anecdotes have all an authentic look, and their genuineness is, for +the most part, not to be doubted. The book is extremely rich in +good stories, which are invariably well told."—<i>Pall Mall +Gazette</i>.</p> + +<p class="squeeze"><b>Moscheles' (Ignatz) Recent Music and Musicians</b>, as described in his +Diaries and Correspondence. Selected by his wife, and adapted from the +original German, by <span class="smcap">A.D. Coleridge</span>, $2.00.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"Full of pleasant gossip. The diary and letters between them +contain notices and criticisms on almost every musical celebrity of +the last half century."—<i>Pall Mall Gazette</i>.</p> + +<p><b>Chorley's (H.F.) Recent Art and Society</b>, as described in his +Autobiography and Memoirs. Compiled from the Edition of Henry G. +Hewlett, by <span class="smcap">C.H. Jones</span>. $2.00.</p> + +<p class="squeeze"><b>Wagner's (R.) Art Life and Theories.</b> Selected from his Writings, and +translated by <span class="smcap">Edward L. Burlingame</span>. With a preface, a catalogue of +Wagner's published works, and drawings of the Bayreuth Opera House. +$2.00.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"Mr. Burlingame has performed a most useful task with great tact +and taste. The difficulty of rendering Wagner into intelligible +English is almost insuperable, but he has overcome it, and has +given us a book which will not only be interesting to all lovers of +music, but entertaining, at least in some of its chapters, to the +general reader."—<i>N.Y. Tribune</i>.</p> + +<p class="squeeze"><b>Thornbury's (Walter) Life of J.M.W. Turner, R.A.</b> Founded on Letters +and Papers furnished by his friends and fellow-academicians. With +illustrations, fac-similed in colors, from Turner's original drawings. +$2.75.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"The author has told fully and fearlessly the story of Turner's +life as far as he could learn it, and has filled his pages with +anecdotes which illustrate the painter's character and habits, and +his book is, therefore, one of great interest."—<i>N.Y. Evening +Post</i>.</p> + +<p class="squeeze"><b>Lewes (George Henry) on Actors and the Art of Acting.</b> $1.50.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"It is valuable, first, as the record of the impressions produced +upon a mind of singular sensibility by many actors of renown, and +lastly, indeed chiefly, because it formulates and reiterates sound +opinions upon the little-understood principles of the art of +acting.... Perhaps the best work in English on the actor's +art."—<i>Nation</i>.</p> + +<p ><b>Berlioz' Autobiography and Musical Grotesques.</b> $2.00</p> + +<hr /> + + +<p><a name="Page_608" id="Page_608" ></a><span class="pagenum">[608]</span></p> + +<p class="squeeze"><b>ALBEMARLE'S (GEORGE THOMAS EARL OF) FIFTY YEARS OF MY LIFE.</b> With a +Portrait by <span class="smcap">Jeens</span>. Large 12mo. $2.50.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"Lord Albemarle has done wisely to publish his Recollections, for +there are few men who have had the opportunities of seeing so much +of life and character as he has, and still fewer who at an advanced +age could write an Autobiography in which we have opinions without +twaddle, gossip without malice, and stories not marred in the +telling."—<i>London Academy</i>.</p> + +<p class="squeeze"><b>HOUGHTON'S (LORD) MONOGRAPHS, PERSONAL AND SOCIAL.</b></p> + +<p class="squeeze">With Portraits of <span class="smcap">Walter Savage Landor</span>, <span class="smcap">Charles +Buller</span>, <span class="smcap">Harriet Lady Ashburton</span>, and <span class="smcap">Suleiman +Pasha</span>. 12mo. $2.00.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"An extremely agreeable volume.... He writes so as to adorn +everything which he touches,"—<i>London Athenæum</i>.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"He has something new to tell of every one of his subjects. His +book is a choice olio of fine fruits."—<i>London Saturday Review</i>.</p> + +<p class="squeeze"><b>JOHNSON'S (ROSSITER) COLLECTIONS OF POEMS. Single Famous Poems.</b> +Collected and Edited by <span class="smcap">Rossiter Johnson</span>. Square 12mo, gilt. +$2.00.</p> + +<p class="blurb">A pretty volume fit for presentation, made up of celebrated English +poems that have hitherto been printed only in periodicals and other +fugitive places, or are in only such works as are not generally at +hand.</p> + +<p class="blurb">The lover of poetry who is trying to find some English poem that he +can get no trace of except from vague memory, would be quite apt to +meet it in this volume.</p> + +<p class="squeeze"><b>Play-day Poems.</b> Collected and Edited by <span class="smcap">Rossiter Johnson</span>. +16mo. (Leisure Hour Series.) $1.00.</p> + +<p class="blurb">This volume contains the best of the humorous poetry published +since Parton's collection in 1856, and also many of the old +favorites.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"Singularly free from anything to offend the taste, or to injure +the health by unsuccessful attempts to produce a laugh. You are not +obliged to throw away a multitude of worthless, or mediocre +specimens, before you light upon a poem which you can truly +enjoy."—<i>N.Y. Tribune</i>.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"The most complete and judicious collection of humorous poetry ever +seen in this country."—<i>Chicago Journal</i>.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"The collection is a capital one, and will be of peculiar value to +professional and amateur readers."—<i>Boston Transcript</i>.</p> + +<p class="squeeze"><b>SAINTE-BEUVE'S (C.A.) ENGLISH PORTRAITS.</b> Selected and Translated from +the "Causeries du Lundi." With an Introductory Chapter on Sainte-Beuve's +Life and Writings. 12mo. $2.00.</p> + +<p class="blurb"><span class="smcap">Contents</span>:—Sainte-Beuve's Life—His Writings—General +Comments—Mary Queen of Scots—Lord Chesterfield—Benjamin +Franklin—Edward Gibbon—William Cowper—English Literature by H. +Taine—Pope as a Poet.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"Probably no one who in our days has written criticism had a surer +power to perceive and discover what is true and beautiful. He makes +us admire more the authors we admired before, and gives new reasons +for our admiration. It is a charming volume, and one that may be +made a companion, in the confident assurance that the better we +know it the better we shall enjoy it."—<i>Boston Advertiser</i>.</p> + + +<p><a name="Page_609" id="Page_609" ></a><span class="pagenum">[609]</span></p> + + +<p class="squeeze"><b>WALLACE'S (D. MACKENZIE) RUSSIA.</b> With two maps. 8vo. $4.00.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"One of the stoutest and most honest pieces of work produced in our +time, and the man who has produced it ... even if he never does +anything more, will not have lived in vain."—<i>Fortnightly Review</i>.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"Excellent and interesting ... worthy of the highest praise ... not +a piece of clever book-making, but the result of a large amount of +serious study and thorough research.... We commend his book as a +very valuable account of a very interesting people."—<i>Nation</i></p> + +<p class="blurb">"The book is excellent from first to last, whether we regard its +livelier or its more serious portions."—<i>London Athenæum</i>.</p> + +<p class="squeeze"><b>BAKER'S (JAMES) TURKEY.</b> 8vo, with two maps. $4.00</p> + +<p class="blurb">"His work, like Mr. Wallace's, is in many parts a revelation, as it +has had no predecessor, which was so founded upon personal +observation, and at the same time so full of that sort of detailed +information about the habits, the customs, the character, and the +life of the people who form its subject, which constitutes the best +possible explanation of history and of current events.... +Invaluable to the student, profound or superficial, of Turkish +affairs."—<i>N.Y. Evening Post</i>.</p> + +<p class="squeeze"><b>BRASSEY'S (MRS.) AROUND THE WORLD IN THE YACHT "SUNBEAM."</b> Our Home on +the Ocean for Eleven Months. With Chart and Illustrations. 8vo.</p> + +<p class="blurb">The history of this leisurely and luxurious cruise of the Brassey +family and a few friends, in their own yacht, is given in such easy +and familiar style as to make the reader feel almost one of the +party.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"We close her book with a wish that, as Alexander sighed for other +worlds to conquer, so there were other worlds for the 'Sunbeam' to +circumnavigate."—<i>Literary World</i>.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"It is altogether unlike all other books of travel.... We can but +faintly indicate what the reader may look for in this unrivalled +book."—<i>London Spectator</i>.</p> + +<p class="squeeze"><b>CREASY'S (SIR EDWARD S.) HISTORY OF THE OTTOMAN TURKS.</b> From the +Beginning of their Empire to the Present Time. Large 12mo. $2.50.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"It presents a vivid and well-connected account of the six +centuries of Turkish growth, conquest, and decline, interwoven with +summary views of institutions, national characteristics, and causes +of success and failure. It embodies also the results of the studies +of a large number of earlier and later writers, and throughout +evinces research, independence of judgment, and candor."—<i>Nation</i>.</p> + +<p class="squeeze"><b>GROHMAN'S (W.A. BAILLIE) GADDINGS WITH A PRIMITIVE PEOPLE.</b> Being a +Series of Sketches of Tyrolese Life and Customs, 16mo. (Leisure Hour +Series.) $1.00.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"He has a bright, easy style, and, indeed, most of his adventures +are so extraordinary as almost to verge on the brink of the +incredible. We can recommend the book as singularly readable from +the first chapter to the last."—<i>Saturday Review</i>.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"This is a book such as the public seldom has the opportunity of +reading; such, indeed, as a necessarily rare combination of +circumstances can alone produce. His volume will indeed amply repay +perusal."—<i>London Spectator</i>.</p> + +<p class="squeeze"><b>McCOAN'S (J.C.) EGYPT AS IT IS.</b> With a map taken from the most recent +survey. 8vo. $3.75.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"We can recommend 'Egypt as It Is' to our readers as supplying a +want which is most felt—a detailed and a truthful and able account +of the country as it is in its moral, material, and economical +aspect "—<i>London Athenæum</i>.</p> + + + +<p><a name="Page_610" id="Page_610" ></a><span class="pagenum">[610]</span></p> + +<p class="squeeze"><b>GAUTIER'S (THEOPHILE) WORKS. A Winter in Russia.</b> Translated from the +French by <span class="smcap">M.M. Ripley</span>. 12mo. $1.75.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"The book is a charming one, and nothing approaching it in merit +has been written on the outward face of things in +Russia."—<i>Nation</i>.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"We do not remember when we have taken up a more fascinating +book."—<i>Boston Gazette</i>.</p> + +<p class="blurb"><b>Constantinople.</b> Translated from the French by Robert Howe Gould, M.A. +12mo. $1.75.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"It is never too late in the day to reproduce the sparkling +descriptions and acute reflections of so brilliant a master of +style as the present author."—<i>N.Y. Tribune</i>.</p> + +<p class="squeeze"><b>JONES' (C.H.) AFRICA</b>: the History of Exploration and Adventure as +given in the leading authorities from Herodotus to Livingstone. By C.H. +Jones. With Map and Illustrations. 8vo. $5.00.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"A cyclopædia of African exploration, and a useful substitute in +the library for the whole list of costly original works on that +subject."—<i>Boston Advertiser</i>.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"This volume contains the quintessence of a whole library.... What +makes it peculiarly valuable is its combination of so much material +which is inaccessible to the general reader. The excellent map, +showing the routes of the leading explorers, and the numerous +illustrations increase the value and interest of the +book."—<i>Boston Globe</i>.</p> + +<p class="squeeze"><b>MORELET'S (ARTHUR) TRAVELS IN CENTRAL AMERICA.</b> Including Accounts of +some Regions Unexplored since the Conquest. Introduction and Notes by +<span class="smcap">E. Geo. Squier</span>. Post 8vo. Illus. $2.00.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"One of the most interesting books of travel we have read for a +long time.... His descriptions are evidently truthful, as he seems +penetrated with true scientific spirit."—<i>Nation</i>.</p> + +<p class="squeeze"><b>PUMPELLY'S (R.) AMERICA AND ASIA.</b> Notes of a Five Years' Journey +Around the World, and of Residence in Arizona, Japan and China. By +<span class="smcap">Raphael Pumpelly</span>, Professor in Harvard University, and some +time Mining Engineer in the employ of the Chinese and Japanese +Governments. With maps, woodcuts, and lithographic facsimiles of +Japanese color-printing. Fine edition, royal 8vo, tinted paper, gilt +side, $5.00. Cheap edition, post 8vo, plain, $2.50.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"One of the most interesting books of travel we have ever read.... +We have great admiration of the book, and feel great respect for +the author for his intelligence, humanity, manliness, and +philosophic spirit, which are conspicuous throughout his +writings."—<i>Nation</i>.</p> + +<p class="blurb">"Crowded with entertainment and instruction. A careful reading of +it will give more real acquaintance with both the physical +geography and the ethnology of the northern temperate regions of +both hemispheres than perhaps any other book in existence."—<i>N.Y. +Evening Post</i>.</p> + +<p class="squeeze" style="margin-bottom: 1em;"><b>STILLMAN'S (W.J.) CRETAN INSURRECTION OF 1866-7-8.</b> By <span class="smcap">W.J. +Stillman</span>, late U.S. Consul in Crete. 12mo. $1.50.</p> + +<p class="squeeze"><b>WHIST (SHORT WHIST).</b> Edited by J.L. Baldwin. The Standard adopted by the +London Clubs. 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