and were not backward in bestowing upon her their well-merited applause. The following summer called her again to Dublin and Edinburgh; and so great was the curiosity to see her become, that the Manager of a country theatre in the north of Ireland, whose greatest receipts perhaps had never amounted to 50l. per night, was induced to offer her that sum per night, for ten nights performance. To enable him to do this in a small theatre, he was obliged to raise the boxes from three shillings to seven, to place the pit upon an equal footing, and to treble the admission to the gallery; yet such was the anxiety to see her perform that he found it an excellent speculation. On the first night, indeed, the fear of a crowd kept so many away, that she played almost to empty benches, and very generously the next morning offered to relieve the Manager from his engagement, but he determined to hazard another evening, on which and every succeeding one, the crowd was so great as to threaten suffocation; nay, many were content to get in by bribery at eight in the morning, and wait, patiently we will not say, until seven in the evening, the usual hour of performance. In this northern excursion she was not only patronized, but actually accompanied by her early patroness, Mrs. O'Neil, whose husband had an ancient and elegant estate in the neighbourhood; and the Irish were proud of displaying to her on all occasions their so much boasted hospitality. At this period Mrs. Siddons had many active enemies, who endeavoured, by accusations of avarice particularly, to injure her in her private character, when they could no longer do it in her public one. These envious personages even followed her through her various country engagements, and even in the country town of Belfast, were active in disseminating that charge, which they knew was a high crime and misdemeanour in the eye of the Irish gentry. To this, however, she gave a severe rebuke by her conduct on leaving the town; for, in a polite note addressed to the chief magistrate, she expressed her gratitude for the attentions which had been shewn her, and very handsomely offered to give a night's performance for the benefit of the General Infirmary and Public Charity of that town. This was accepted of, some hundreds were raised, and her calumniators found it in vain to bring forward any further charges of avarice against her in that place. Such, indeed, was the general impression made by her public and private character, that numberless anonymous presents, some of them very valuable, were sent to her; and a very elegant silver urn, with the motto, "a reward to merit," was sent after her to London, without her ever finding out the generous donor. On her arrival in Londou, her unjust and ungenerons enemies again attempted to injure her in the public opinion, by false statements of her conduct to an unhappy sister. In this too they were so far suc cessful as to excite the indignation of the London audience against her, and in consequence she was not only hissed but received with repeated cries of " Of! Off!" on her first appearance in the winter of 1784. To this illiberal attack she would undoubtedly have fallen a victim, had not both Mr. Siddons and Mr. Kemble exerted their utmost efforts to obtain her a hearing, when she calmly refuted every charge, and by the potent voice of conscious innocence alone, convinced the public of the malignity and falsehood of her ene mies. This was a contest from which many, and those of the most virtuous, would have been glad to escape; perhaps Mrs. Siddons herself, from a conscious feeling of innocence, might have haughtily shrunk from further debate; indeed, so indignant was her feelings that she had determined, as soon as justice was done to her, to retire into Wales, and live upon the little fortune she had already saved. The public, however, were now as eager to do her every justice, as they had been perhaps too ready to listen to her calumniators, and they did not forget that in rendering justice to her, they were doing justice to themselves, in securing the possession of such an estimable actress. She was accordingly prevailed upon by some well-judging friends, and influenced, doubtless, by a laudable desire to provide for her family, to renew her en gagements, aud in a short time all was forgotten. The renewal of royal favour was suffi cient, indeed to put down every calumny, and she was frequently honoured with invitations both to Buckingham-House and Windsor, for the purpose of reciting dramatic pieces, in which she and her brother were considered to excel. Her winters were now spent on the London boards, and her summers either in lucrative excursions to the provincial theatres, or in visits to many noble fa milies, with whom her private worth and public merit had placed her upon terms of the most friendly intimacy; and she was now better enabled than ever to dedicate some portion of her time to privale friendship, as her arduous exertions, joined to a strict but praiseworthy economy, had realized a handsome independence, which was first employed to make her a shareholder, and afterwards converted into a mortgage on Drury-Lane theatre. 65 collected, however, that the spirited conduct of Mrs. Siddons soon put a stop to the malevolent attempts of calumny, not only to injure her fame, but to attack her even in the private recesses of domestic life. Of Mr. Siddons, however, the partner of her long and respectable life, the chosen husband of her early youth, she was shortly after deprived ; but her conduct as a widow has been as exemplary, as it had hitherto been in the character of a wife and mother.. Shortly after Mr. John Kemble became a proprietor and stage-manager of CoventGarden, she transferred her services to that theatre, greatly to its emolument, and not less to her own; but it is needless to recapitulate the common-place theatrical events which have for the few latter years filled up her life, sometimes on the metropolitan boards, and at others at Edinubrgh, and the various provincial resorts of the Tragic Muse.* Repeated attacks of ill health, and a na tural wish for ease and retirement have seAbout this time a heavy domestic mis- veral times induced her to form the resofortune, in the loss of an amiable and belution of quitting the stage for ever; but loved daughter, withdrew her for some the public voice, and perhaps a proper retime from the public eye; but her ardent gard for the interests of her young deaffection for the remaining branches of an scendants, have very fortunately hitherto estimable family, prevented her from sink-prevented her from putting that design ing under this calamity, and induced her again to undertake her professional exertions. She was now arrived at a time of life that required some relaxation, and made it uecessary for her to regulate her exertions by a due regard to her health; she therefore made a new engagement with the DruryLane proprietors, on terms rather unusual, and which would only have been conceded to an actress of her merit and worth; this was, to be paid a stipulated sum for each night's performance, and these to be regulated in a great measure by her own convenience. Though now past the meridian of life, malice could not be at rest; it will be re into execution: how far her present declaration will be permitted to take place, remains to be decided at the close of the present season. In our next we shall enter into a critical description of the professional character of if any can be found, her defects, in the Mrs. Siddons; point out her merits, and, wide range of characters which she has performed on the British stage. * It is unnecessary here to enter on the late attack of Mrs G's, the public are already in possession of the facts, ORIGINAL COMMUNICATIONS. HYMENEA IN SEARCH OF A HUSBAND. (Continued from Page 9.) "My dear Hymenæa," said my aunt, "Lady Bellamont has invited us to-morrow to one of the most delightful parties in the world; it is one more in the nature of our country parties than any of our fashionable ones. You must know, my dear, that a few miles from this there lives one of those original antidiluvian characters which are now only visible once in a century, and which are the remains of the last century perpetuated by the concurrence of humour and fortune. Have you never heard any mention of Sir Dennis O'Neal O'Carrol?" me, "why could you prefer such a party ? What amusement do you seek in company so totally unlike you?" "I hear they are very prudent good kind of fashionable people," said my aunt; “and I have a desire to know what this kind of people are." The two gentlemen who accompanied me seemed to have no other purpose but to exhibit themselves off to the best advantage. One of them was a coxcomb who had lately come from Russia; and in order to shew that he was a travelled man, he had suffered his whiskers to grow an inordinate "I have frequently heard this name," replied I; "and it has always been mention-length, and though in the height of sumed in a tone of respect, and at the same time with a smile, as if there were something ludicrous about it." mer, wore a furred great coat. The other gentleman was altogether as finical as the other was rough. He had a green coat, a white satin waistcoat, &c. and white silk stockings. He was an excellent poet, as I understood, and altogether a gentleman of very good learning and accomplishments, but, without being a fool, the most finished coxcomb I have ever seen. He was, moreover, a man of fortune, and much courted "You are right," said my aunt; "the charities, the general benevolence, the honest good-humour of the worthy Baronet, have rendered him an object of the esteem of every one, whilst his whimsicalities exist in a degree which would be humorous even on the stage." "Be so kind as to describe him to me," for his poetical celebrity. said I. "No," replied my aunt; "I will not | spoil the treat of the comedy by anticipating its plot." "It is a famous cold day," said he, rubbing his hands. "A cold day!" said I; "why, it is midsummer, Sir, and I think as fine a day as ever shone in the heavens." "Sir Charles and myself," replied the gentleman, looking at his friend's great coat with an air of raillery," are unfortunate enough to differ from you." "Perhaps the gentleman is unwell," said Lady Bellamont. Shortly afterwards we were summoned to our carriage; and two gentlemen having requested permission to have seats in our coach, had the goodness to entertain us by the way. Lady Bellamont and myself, and the two above gentlemen, made up the party in my aunt's carriage; my aunt, for the sake of variety, which she sought in every thing and at all times, having almost forced herself upon that of a gouty nobleman and his two maiden sisters.—“ Good || Heaven! aunt," exclaimed I, as she left three years, and in his terror of catching "I am lately from Russia, madam," replied Sir Charles. "Yes, madam," said the other; 66 my friend was at St. Petersburgh this time cold he has worn this great coat ever since." "There is nothing like a prudent care," said I. "I knew a lady who had a cat drowned in the Thames, and she never afterwards would allow a decanter of water to be put on the side-board for fear of accidents." "Yes, madam, a second judgment of Paris. My friend and myself both plead guilty of the degree of coxcombry charged upon us in our general reputation; you are to determine between us, which has hit upon the more agreeable kind. Here is brother Bruin from Russia, ladies, and myself from the Inns of Court, a Templar at "He, he, he, that is very good," said the your service." gentleman in the green coat. “And I knew a gentleman," said Sir Charles, "who made a vow to walk in his shirt, as an act of penance, every moonlight night in the month; but his confessor had the consideration to change it to walking in satin waistcoat and breeches every day in the day time.” "Nay," replied the other, "since you have so directly addressed yourself to me, I will take these ladies as judges between us-Ladies, we have both the reputation of being what the people term coxcombs; and very ridiculous coxcombs too, by my faith. There is Sir Charles, for example, will any one deny that a more palpable and egregious coxcomb ever issued from a lady's band-box." "If you ask me in jest," said I, "I should answer you in the same way; but if you really demand my opinion in earnest, I should not hesitate to give it you; but you must not expect that I should concur in defending that mistaken estimate of manners which you seem to have made. The manners of a country are of infinitely more consequence than it may appear to superficial reasoners, and if those manners are squared according to a mistaken rule, it is impossible to say where the mischief will end. And you will pardon me for observing, gentlemen, that the errors of men of sense are infinitely more dangerous than those of mere coxcombs. If young men, I speak of very young men, see any brilliant folly in a man esteemed of good sense, Sir Charles did not seem to relish this and talents, they usually adopt him as their kind of raillery. example and model. The errors, or even vices, of known fools, do little mischief with respect to examples; but when follies are set off by a splendor which does not intrinsically belong to them, a splendor which they derive merely from the extraneous circumstances with which they are connected, it is then that they become danger "And as to myself," continued the gentleman, "I plead guilty; I have lived long enough in the town and amongst the ladies, to know that no character is more generally estimable and more universally acceptable than that of the coxcomb. Lady Mary Wortley Montague says in one of her letters, that she would ratherous." be a luxurious, gay, gallant Turkish Bashaw, than Sir Isaac Newton; and for my own part and Sir Charles's there, I will take upon myself to speak for both of us, we would rather be agreeable coxcombs in the eyes of the ladies, than orators as celebrated as Cicero or Chatham." Sir Charles here nodded assent. "Then will you do us the favour," said the gentleman in green," to determine this contest which has arisen between us." "What contest?" said I; "you seem perfectly to agree." "The contest is, which is the most of a coxcomb," said Lady Bellamont, "if I understand you right." No. XXIX. Vol. V.-N. S. "You at the same time give these gentlemen a decent hit," said Lady Bellamont, "and pay them a high compliment,” This conversation was interrupted by arriving at the door of Sir Dennis O'Neal O'Carrol's park, The Lodge was a very ancient structure. It was at once a parkgate and an inn, and seemed in better times to have been a castle of some ancient Baron. The park answered to the character of the lodge and to that of the owner. It was a very spacious meadow, on the east and west side of which (the park lying orth and south) were two very wide avenues, through which the roads pass to the house. These avenues were on each side lined by farmer-looking stout man, at some distance from the road. 66 trees which seemed as ancient as the ancient Princes of Ulster. The park looked wild and somewhat neglected, but, and per- By my good faith," said Lady Bellahaps for this reason, had a more venerablemont, "that gentleman is Sir Dennis himappearance. The house was about the self; and this scene will unfold to you a middle of it, and the park was so spacious, part of his character. He is a country that when we had reached midway be- gentleman whose pleasures have the cha tween the lodge and the house, we could racter of the peculiar circumstances in see neither the one nor the other. which he has been educated. He has a "This is a delightful solitude," said Lady tremendous hatred of the town and of every Bellamont. "Yes," replied one of the gentlemen; "there is not a more beautiful park in the kingdom; one at the same time so irregular and beautiful in its surface and so well wooded." "I can almost imagine myself in one of those woods so romantically described by our Shakespeare," said I; "why might it not be at such a stream as this that Jaques moralized on the variety of beasts, and on the uncertainty of human life. "Yes," replied Lady Bellamont; "but whence is it, Hymenæa, that Shakespeare does not give half the pleasure on the stage which we receive from him in the closet?" thing belonging to it. He has one particular humour, and that is, of acting in a kind of disguise. In this way, he says, he can come to the truth of the conduct of his servants and tenants, and whether they injure those with whose interests they are trusted. I will take upon me to say, that he is now talking to the gipsies in that character, and that they do not know to whom they are speaking; they think him at best some country farmer, and little imagine that he is the owner of some thousand of acres around him." Whilst my lady was saying this, the Baronet suddenly turned his head, and seeing the coach in the act of drawing up to "It is,” replied I," because no reality can his door, he walked towards his house. We ever come up to the vigorous conception saw enough to observe, that with all the of a poetic imagination. I have heard one rough external of a country farmer, his of our best and most natural actresses de- countenance and manner had the evident clare in a cursory conversation, that the impression of his actual condition in life. delight of her youth was the reading of He had a manly politeness, and a natural the Midsummer Night's Dream and As and unborrowed grace of manners which You Like It, of Shakespeare, and that no- at once marked him off for the honest man thing so perfectly convinced her of the in- and the gentleman. He had something, comparable greatness and beauty of that however, boyish in his demeanour, for poet as the different feelings excited by though he was apparently walking gracereading him, and by seeing him represent- || fully towards the house, he would now and ed. The stage can give no adequate re- then stop to take up a stone, and throw it at presentation of him. He can only be duly a crow which happened to cross his way. appreciated by the imagination which he The gipsies hollowed aloud after him, callhas himself animated and awakened." ing him by the term of farmer, and telling him if he would return they would tell his fortune. "Who is that gentleman talking to these gipsies?" said one of the gentlemen in our carriage, at the same time pointing to a (To be continued.) |