ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. M E M O I E S OF .SOME OF THE MOST NOTED lEISHWOMEN Jfrnm tl^t (Bmlmt %QtB io iljc BY E. OWENS BLACKIJURNE, AUTHOU OF "a woman SCORNED," "THE WAY WOMEN LOVE," ETC. ETC, IN TWO VOLUMJOS. VOL. L LONDON : TINSLEY BIJOTIIKKS, 8, CATHERINE STREET, STRAND. 1877. [Riyht of Translation reserved by the Author.'] BOSTON (XM.LI (JK unuAur CIIKSTNIIT HILL, MASS. O'NEILL UBRARY \J0 BOSTON COLLEGE / LONDON : 8AV1LL, EUWAKPS AND CO., PRINTERS, CHANDOS STF.KKT, COVliNT GARDEN. gjetririiti:& (« y SPECIAL P ERMISSION) TO HER GRACE THE DUCHESS OE MAELBOEOUGH. London, 1877. 157L PREFACE. N her beauty and in her obscurity, Ireland has been called, and not inappropriately, "the Cinderella of the Empire." Her children, when opportunity offers, possess the capabilities of achieving much that is praise- worthy ; for Nature has never been niggard of her physical and intellectual gifts to the Irish race ; and to preserve in a collected form the names and achicvemonts of some of the more gifted daughters of Ei-in, hiis l)ecji tlie silent patriotism of my life. I am painfully aware of the many deficiencies to be found in these volumes ; but I would beg the indulgence of the public, on the plea that tliis is the firfher, and the historian. This Historic Tale is to Celtic His- tory what the myth of the Argonautic Expedition, or of the Seven against Thebes, is to Grecian. Yidc Keatiug, pp. 27G-77. 32 ILLUSTRIOUS IBISHW02UEN. In Miss Cusack's "History of Ireland," she' says : — "The following passage is taken from 'The Book of Ballymott,' and is supposed to be taken from the Synchronisms of Flann of Monaster- boice : — ' In the fourteenth year of the reign of Conaird and of Conchobar, Mary was born, and in the fourth year after the birth of Mary, the expedition of the Tdin-B6-Chuailgne took place. Eight years after the expedition of the Tain, Christ was bom.'" SAINT BEIGIT. Born a.d. 439. Died a.d. 525. jAINT BRIGHITT, or Brigliid, or Breeyitli, ,j^j^^ or Bride, or Bridget, or Brigit, as her name has been at various periods AngUcised, was descended from the illustrious family of the Fotharda, of Leinster. Her genealogy is thus given in the bardic senchas : Brigliili waa llio (liuij,'1itor of Dublliacli Donn. Sou of Dremui, son of Brcsal of smooth, hair, Sou of DIan, son of Conula, sou of Art, Sou of Carbri Niadh, sou of Cormac, Son of Aengus Mor, of high esteem, Sou of Eocaidh Finn, whom Art detested, Son of wise Feidlimidh the Legal, The glorious Tuathal Tectmar's son. Divesting her of the supernatural gifts attri- buted to her, and trying to sift the truth from the many absurd stories related concerning her, Saint Brigit stands forth a great and good woman. In an age when the position of her sex was a sub- ordinate one intellectually, she accomplished a work which, considering the disposition of the times, may well have been considered, in that age, VOL. I. D 34 ILLUSTRIOUS IBISHWOMEN. as almost superhuman. Of her learning, her blameless life, and her wise judgment, there can be no question : and in such reverence was she held, that to swear by her name was considered the most solemn oath. There were fifteen saints of the name of Brigit ; the most famous of whom, and the first of the name, was the subject of this memoir. She was the daughter of the Leinster man, Dubthach, who was descended from Eochaidh Finn Fuathairt, brother of the renowned Conn of the Hundred Battles. From this colcbralod chieftain is also lineally descended her Most Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria. About the middle of the fourth century after Christ, much religious enthusiasm was stirred up upon the Continent by the institution of female monasteries, or nunneries, by Melanie, a pious woman of noble birth. The fame of her piety and p-ood deeds, and of those of her followers and sue- cessors, spread even to Ireland, and quickened into life the seeds of Christianity sown by Saint Patrick. Following the example of Melanie, Saint Brigit instituted a religious order for women, which rapidly spread its branches through every part of the country. She took religious vows at a very early age, when, as we are told, "she was clothed in the white garment, and the white veil SAINT BBIGIT. 35 placed upon her head." Seven or eight other young noble maidens immediately took the same step, and, attaching themselves to her fortunes, formed, at tlie first, Iier small religious community. The pure sanctity of this virgin's life, and the super- natural gifts attributed to her, spread the fame she had already acquired every day, and crowds of young women and widows applied for admission into her institution. At first she contented her- self with foundino; establishments for her followers in the resj)ective districts of which they were natives. However, the increasing number of those who were immediately under her personal super- intendence, rendered it necessary that she should form one great central establishment over which she should herself preside. The people of Leinster were " her own people" — that phrase so dear to the Irish heart in all ages ! — and, therefore, amongst them she decided to take up her permanent abode. Accordingly, slie chose a site for her monastery in the midst of the green undulating pastures of Leinster. The name of the place was called Cill- Dara, or the Cell of the Oak, from a very high oak- tree which grew near the spot, and the trunk of which was still remaining in the twelfth century, " no one daring to touch it with a knife. "^ The * Giraldus Cambrensis. D 2 36 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. extraordinary veneration in wliicli Saint Brigit was held, caused such a resort of pilgrims of all ranks to the place — such crowds of penitents and men- dicants, that a new town* sprang up rapidly aroimd her, which kept pace with the growing prosperity of tlie establishment. The selection of this particular site for her mo- nastery, or nunnery, is an instance of the wise judgment for which Saint Brigit was remarkable. Druidism had not yet been swept away from the land, and the old, venerable oak must have been, in the minds of t1io mnjority, invested with a peculiar solemnity. Therefore it was a wise policy of hers not to ride roughshod over ancient prejudices, but to try and convert to the purposes of Christianity those forms and usages which had so long been made to serve as instruments of error. Mention is made of the holy fire, which was always kept burn- ing upon the altar, and which was clearly a relic of Pagan times ; for the Druidesses preserved from remotest ages an inextinguishable fire. It is very likely that Saint Brigit, in her anxiety to con- ciliate the masses, and also from her simple Chris- tian desire not to offend, permitted the fire to be continued, biit made it emblematical of an article of the new or Christian faith. It is well known * The modem town of Kildare. SAINT BRIGIT. 37 that in earlier ages Saint Patrick engrafted Chris- tian festivals upon Pagan ones. Indeed, all Irish religious festivals have more or less an element of Paganism mixed up with them ; this is quite patent to any observant person who has lived amongst the Irish peasantry, and who is conver- sant with their habits and customs. Giraldus Cambrensis, who lived six hundred years later than Saint Brigit, thus refers to the sacred fire of CiU-Dara : — "At Kildare, in Leinster, celebrated for the glorious Brigit, many miracles have been wrought worthy of memory. Among these the first that occurs is the fire of Saint Brigit, which is reported never to go out ; not that it cannot be extinguislicd, but the nuns and holy women tend and feed it, adding fuel with such watchful and diligent care, that from the time of the Virgin* it has continued burning through a long course of years ; and althougli such heaps of wood liave been consumed during this long period, there has been no accumu- lation of ashes. " As in the time of Saint Brigit, twenty nuns were there engaged in the Lord's warfare, she herself being the twentieth. After her glorious departure, nineteen have always formed the society, * i.e., Saint Bridget. 38 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. the number having never been increased. Each of them has the care of the fire for a single night in turn, and on the evening before the twentieth night, the last nun, having heaped wood upon the fire, says : — ' Brigit, take charge of your own fire, for this night belongs to you.' She then leaves the fire, and in the morning it is found that the fire has not gone out, and that the usual quantity of fuel has been used. " This fire is surrounded by a hedge made of stakes and brushwood, and forming a circle within which no man can enter ; and if any one should presume to enter, which has sometimes been attempted by rash men, he will not escape the divine vengeance. Moreover, it is only lawful for women to blow the fire, fanning it, or using bellows only, and not with their breath." Henry de Londres, Archbishop of Dublin, con- sidering this fire a remnant of Pagan superstition, caused it to be extinguished in 1220, but it was afterwards renewed, and continued until the sup- pression of the monasteries by Henry VIII. Giraldus also gives an account of the illumina- tions said to have been executed by Saint Brigit and her nuns. He particularly mentions one ma- nuscript said to have been written by the Abbess herself, at the dictation of an angel. It contained the Four Gospels according to Saint Jerome, and SAINT BEIGIT. 39 every page was richly illuminated with a variety of brilliant colours. Judging from the description given, the book may well have been supposed to have been miraculously written, amongst a people so little conversant with art as the mass of the Irish of that age. ** The Book of Kildare," as it was called, is unfortunately lost, but there is pre- served in the Library of Trinity College, Dublin, an early copy of the Gospels, called "The Book of Kells," which, for the beauty and splendour of its caligraphy and illummations, is not surpassed by any of its age that is known to exist. " Indeed," says the late Dr. Petrie, ** on looking at this ex- quisite piece of workmanship, it is difficult to avoid thinking tlia.t it is the very manuscript so elabo- rately described by Giraldus." The fame of Saint Brigit's sanctity spread wher- ever the Christian religion was recognised. Saint Ailbe of Emly — one of the fathers of the Irish Church — used to visit her. The ancient Welsh author, Gildas, was one of her intimate friends, and is said to have sent to Saint Brigit a small bell cast by himself In that age, small portable bells were commonly interchanged between eccle- siastics as tokens of regard. They were looked ujion with especial veneration ; and the chronicler, Colgan, says, that the tolling of the sacred bell of Saint Patrick was a preservative against evil 40 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN, spirits and magicians, and could be heard from the Giant's Causeway to Cape Clear — from the Hill of Howth to the western shores of Connemara ! The Hebrides, or Ey-Brides, i.e., "The Isles of Brigit," were called after her, and dispute with Ireland the honour of possessing her remains. But, according to Giraldus Cambrensis, she died at Kildare, and was buried there also. By one of those violations of chronology so often hazarded for the sake of bringing illustrio\is per- sonages together, a friendship is supposed to have existed between Saint Brigit and Saint Patrick. But the dates are inconsistent. It is just possible she may have seen the Apostle of Ireland when she was a child, for she must have been about twelve years of age when he died. Tradition goes as far as to say that she wore, at his especial request, the shroud in wliich he was buried. But there is no reliance to be placed upon this story, any more than upon the legend of " Saint Brigit's Shawl" — which merits a place in this memoir, inasmuch as that it is one of the chief tales in the folk-lore of Leinster. The story runs as follows : — " Saint Brigit, when young, was very beautifvd, and, as a natural result, had many admirers. But she had early vowed herself to the service of God, and paid no attention to her would-be lovers. In order to get rid of them altogether, she prayed SAINT BBIGIT. 41 for some disease that might destroy her beauty. Her prayers were answered, for she was smitten with small-pox, which utterly disfigured one side of her face, leaving the other as beautiful as ever. " Some time after she had taken the veil, finding her followers become very numerous, she applied to the then King of Leinster for a small piece of land upon which to build a nunnery. She went to entreat this favour in person, and the king, who saw only the beautiful side of her face, was so cap- tivated with her, that he at once granted her request. The story goes on to say that the queen, who was old and very ugly, became jealous of Saint Brigit, and before tlic interview was over managed that the Icing should see the other side of Brigit's face. This so annoyed and disenchanted him, that he at once revoked his promise. Saint Brigit prayed of him to hold to his former decision, but he was deaf to all her entreaties ; however, he at loiiglli agreed to give her as much land as her shawl would cover. " Six months passed away, and then Brigit came to claim the promised ' bit of land.' In the presence of the king, the queen, and the assembled court, Saint Brigit took off her shawl in order to measure the ground. But what was the dismay and amazement of the king when he saw her give 42 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. a corner to each of four of her nuns, who ran north, south, east, and west ! The shawl — which Saint Brigit had herself spun during the six months which had intervened — was of some web-like sub- stance, and gradually unfolded until it covered what is now the Curragh of Kildare, and which she claimed in fulfilment of the king's promise." So runs the legend, as it is often told by many a fireside in Leinster. Speaking of the Abbey of Cill-Bara, Giraldus Cambrensis says : — "In this neighbourhood there are some very beautiful meadows called Saint Brigit's pastures, in which no plough is ever suflered to turn a furrow. BesjDccting these meadows it is held as a miracle that, although all the cattle in the pro- vince should graze the herbage from morning till night, the next day the grass would be as luxu- riant as ever. It may be said, indeed, of them : Et quantum longis carpunt armenta diebus, Exigua tantum gelidus ros nocte reponit."* Saint Brigit died, full of years and honour, on the first day of February, a.d, 525, in the seventy- fifth year of her age, and four years after the birth of Columbkille. A remarkable and a good woman * " Cropt in the summer's day by herds, the dew's Eefreshing moisture verdure still renews." ViKGiL, Georg., ii. 201-2. SAINT BllIGIT. 43 to have lived during any age ; her character and her good deeds stand forth all the more pre-emi- nently, with the rude times during which she lived as a background for them, and her memory is well worthy of the pious veneration in which it is justly held. S^p?--®^ t the goodly vision all away— So royal envy rolled the murky storm O'er my beloved Master's glorious day. Thou jealous, ruthless tyrant ! — Heaven repay On thee, and on thy children's latest line, The wild caprice of thy despotic sway, Tlio gory bridal-bod, the plundered shrino. The murdered Surrey's blood — the tears of Geraldine! " The Fair Geraldine" must have had many a young and gallant aspirant for her hand ; and it is almost with feelings of dismay and pity that we read that in 1543, when in but her sixteenth year, she mari'ied Sir Anthony Brown, K.G., who was then sixty years of age. He died in 1548, and the young widow shortly afterwards married the Earl of Lincoln. The Fair Geraldine left no posterity to inherit her beauty, and after this men- tion of her second marriage history is silent re- specting her. She survived her second husband, and erected a monument to his memory in Saint George's Chapel, at Windsor. The Earl is repre- sented in a suit of armour, and by his side is an effigy of " The Fair Geraldine," the date of whose death is uncertain. GRAINNE O'MAILLY. Lived during tue greater tart of the Sixteenth Century. Dates Uncertain. EAINNE O'MAILLY, or "Grace O'Malley" as she is more commonly called, has been the heroine of many a wild and romantic In the Irish and English political bal- tale. lads of the time she is frequently alluded to as *' Grana Wail ;" and traditional stories concerning her prowess are yet rife in the West of Ireland. But history says very little concerning her. In a letter written by John O'Donovan, during tlie period of the Ordnance Survey of Ireland — which document is now preserved in the Library of the Boyal Irish Academy, Dublin, and bears the date July 17th, 1838— referring to the O'M alley family, he says . — " The most celebrated personage of this family that ever lived was Graina na g cearbhach, or Grace of the Gamesters, Ny-Maille, who flourished, according to tradition, in the reign of Queen Eliza- beth, by whom she was most graciously received. GRMKNE O'MMLLY. 89 .... She is now most vividly remembered by tradition, and people were living in the last generation who conversed with people who knew her personally. Charles Cormick, of Errus, now seventy-four years and six weeks old, saw and con- versed with Elizabeth O'Donnell, of Newtown withm the Mullet, who died about sixty-four years ago, and who had seen and intimately known a Mr. Walsli, who remembered Graina na g cear- hhacli. Walsh died at the age of 107, and his father was of the same age as Graine, and a foster- brother of hers." But tradition is an " aery record" by no means to be entirely disregarded ; and if we connect the various stories whicli are afloat coiicorninof Crainne O'Mailly witli even the slight documentary evi- dence which we possess, we may arrive at some conception of her character, circumstances, and mode of life, Grainne O'Mailly is without a parallel in mediaival or modern times. She was a sea-queen : a remarkable product of a remarkable age. Call her a she-pirate if you will ; but was she more of a pirate than was Sir Francis Drake, or Sir Walter Raleigh, or his half-brother. Sir Humphrey Gilbert, all of whom were her contemporaries ? Elizabeth governed the British nation with the help of trusty counsellors and a well-digested code of 90 ILLUSTRIOUS IBISRWOMEN. laws ; whilst at the same time an Irish chief- tainess away in the wilds of Connauglit was, by the sheer force of her indomitable will, unaided by law or precedent, holding in subjection the fiercest and most lawless body of men In Ireland — the pirates of the Atlantic coast. The marvcl- lousness of the extraordinary influence she must have gained over these men is all the more sur- prising, when it is taken into consideration that they were not only the most belligerent of all the Irish clans, but they did not suffer a woman even to inherit property, much less to take a leadership in the government. Therefore — as will be shown further on — Grainne O'Mailly had no right except that of might. " At once above, beneath her sex," by both spear and spindle (her mother was also an O'Mailly), Grainne has been by some writers idealised, and represented as a beautiful and culti- vated woman. But there are no authorities for such statements. That she was remarkable in appearance there can be no question. This may be gathered from the fact that her name, Grainne, does not mean " Grace," as it has been commonly and erroneously Anglicised, but " The Ugly," and her ugliness must have been remarkable to have gained for her the soubriquet. Moreover, in a traditional account of her, preserved in a manu- GRAINNE O'MAILLY. 91 script in the Eoyal Irish Academy, Dublm, the writer says : — " She was a great pirate and plunderer from her youth. It is Transcended to us by Tradition that the very Day she was brought to bed of her first Child that a Turkish Corsair attacked her ships, and that they were Getting the Better of her Men she got up put the Quilt about her a,nd a string about her neck took two Blunder Buslies in her hands came on Deck began damming and Capering about her monstrous size and odd figure surprised the Turks their officers gathered together talking of her this was what she wanted stretched botli her hands fired the two Blunder Bushes at them and Destroyed the ofiicci's." It is, however, a well-authenticated fact that she was dark-complexioned, owing, doubtless, to an admixture of Spanish blood in her veins, for the Western Irish had large commercial dealings with the wine-trading Spaniards, and the two countries had widely intermarried with each other. EiGstless and dark — its sliarp and rapid look Show'd a fierce spirit prone a wrong to feel, • And quicker to revenge it. As a book That sunburnt brow did fearless thoughts reveal ; And in her girdle was a skcyne of steel. Her crimson mantle her gold brooch did bind, Her flowing garments reached unto her heel ; Her hair part fell in tresses unconfined, And part a silver bodkin fastened up behind. 92 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. Grainne O'Mailly was the daughter of Owen O'Mailly, who was better known as Dhubdara — i.e., " of the Black Oak." He was Lord of O'MaiUy s land, or Ui-m-liaille, pronounced " Hoole," or *' Owle ;" whence comes the corruption " Wail." His territory comprised the present baronies of Murrisk and Borrishoole — i.e.^ "The Borough of the O'Maillys." As well as being the chief of this seacoast district he was also the Lord of the Isles of Arran, then inhabited by a singularly wild race, who were known as the most intrepid mariners along the L'ish coast. Lideed, from tlie eiirliest ages the O'Mailly clan had been famed for sea- faring exploits. A bard of the fourteenth century says of them — A good man never was there Of the O'Mailly's but a mariner; Tlie proplicts of the weather are ye, A tribe of all'oction and brotherly lovo. When Dubhdara O'Mailly died, his daughter Grainne was a girl of nineteen. She had been accustomed to accompany her father frequently Avhen he went on his piratical expeditions, so that we may infer her knowledge of nautical matters was neither superficial nor theoretical, but thorough and practical. Dubhdara also left a son, who was much younger than Grainne, but who, by right, was the chief of GUAINNE O'MAILLY. 93 the clan. However, he was set aside by his in- trepid sister, who assumed the command of the piratical squadron. She soon made herself noto- rious along the shores of Connemara,* where the deeply indented coast afforded safe harbours and hiding-places for her vessels Avhen too closely driven upon the Atlantic. Her fame as a daring pirate and undisputed Queen of the Western wave soon spread abroad, and lawless and desperate characters from all parts came and enrolled them- selves under her standard. At one time she could muster a flotilla formidable enough to deter the strongest coast lord in Ireland. It must not be supposed that her vessels were in any way re- sembling tliose of modern times. Wooden ships she certainly must have had, although of rude con- struction, but the bulk of her floating armament was composed of coracles, a sort of wickerwork boats covered with horse hide.t Her chief harbour was at Clare Island, in Newport Bay. Here her strong- hold of Carrigahowly Castle was built at the very edge of the water, and her vessels being moored and tied together, it is said that the rope with which they were fastened was passed through a * Connemara — i.e., Anglice, " Bays of the Sea." f In the wilder parts of Connemara these boats are yet 'used by the peasantry. 94 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. hole in the castle wall, and that the courageous chieftainess slept with it wound around her arm, so as to be ready at once in case of any assault by niffht. She constantly attacked and robbed the Spanish galloons, which, laden with Spanish wine, traded between Spain and Galway, where they exchanged their cargo for a homeward-bound one of salt. But her chief raids were against the vessels of the Eno-lish Government. So notorious did she be- o come, and so persistent was her persecution, that England at length proclaimed her an outlaw, and a reward of five hundred jDounds — an enormous sum in those days — was ofiered for her capture. Moreover, the Anglo-Norman troops stationed at Galway were sent to besiege and take her castle of Carrigahowly. Grainne gave them battle, and after a fortnight's skirmishing they retired dis- comfited and defeated by the intrepid sea-queen. Grainne O'Mailly was twice married. Her first husband was O'Donnell 'Flaherty, whose warlike character was indicated by his cognomen, a7i chogaidh — i.e., " of the wars." He was the chief of the 'Flaherty clan, but seems not to have played any important part in the history of the times. There is, however, a curious accovmt of the duties rendered to him, which affords a good picture of the social laws of the period. His retainers always GBAINNE O'MAILLY. paid rent in kind. From eveiy quarter of a town- land he received for the support of his household a certain amount of cattle, certain measures of oat- meal, called srulian, with " suflicient butter ;" and when his daughter married he could demand a two-year old heifer from every inhabited townland. 0' Flaherty's residence was the extensive fortress of Bunowen, at the mouth of the river Owenmore. If the wife's clan was the most powerful in that part of the island, the husband's was the most dreaded. "The ferocious O'Flaherties" struck terror into the hearts of their enemies. When the thirteen Anglo-Norman tribes took pos- session of the city of Galway and the surround- ing country, they inserted in their Litany the especial clause, — " From the ferocious OTlalierties, — Good Lord, deliver us !" And the same words were inscribed, probably as a talisman, over the western gate of the city. O'Flaliorty's territory was called Baile-na-h-insi, or " the Town of the Island." When he died — neither how, where, nor when is recorded — Grainne's troubles really began. It must be borne in mind that she governed the territory solely by the right of might, and upon her husband's death she inherited no property, for the native laws gave neither power nor inheritance to women. By her 96 ILLVSTEIOUS IBISHWOMEN. marriage sKe had to some extent weaned herself from her followers, so that when she attempted to resume her former sway she found some difficulty in gathering together her retainers. She was literally without the means of living at this time, for with the death of her husband ceased all her rights to the collop-na-sprea, or dowry allowed to the wife of a chieftain, and which was usually paid in cattle. Therefore, for that reason she excused her piracies to the English Government, ni-ging that her " thrade of maintenance" — i.e., piracy, whereby she did "maintain herself and her people by sea and land for the space of forty (?) years," was perfectly justifiable, as she had no other provision. Grainne O'Mailly took as her second husband a powerful Anglo-Norman chief, named Sir Richard Bourke, lord of the Mayo sept of tliis great Norman-Irish clan. Amongst his Irish retainers he was known by the name of Mac William Eughter — i.e., "the lower," in contradistinction to the Earl of Clanrickarde, who governed " the upper" sept. Also, in accordance with tlie primitive Irish fashion of giving a person a nickname, he was called " Hichard in Iron" — in allusion to the plate armour which he always wore. Whether or not it were owing to the influence of her husband, it is impossible to say, but it is GBAINNE O'MAILLY. 97 certain that about this time— either shoi-tly before or shortly after her marriage — Grainne O'Mailly, who had forfeited none of her independence by taking a husband, put herself under the protection of the Enghsh rule in Connaught. She was a powerful auxihary in supporting the Saxon sway in the West ; and the Viceroy Sydney, referring to his visit to Galway in 1 57G, says : — " There came to me a most famous feminine sea- captam, called Grany-I-Mallye, and offered her ser- vice unto me, wheresoever I would command her, with tliree galleys and two hundred fighting men, either in Ireland or Scotland. She brought -with her her husband, for she was, as well by sea as by land, more than luastor's mate witli liim. lie was of the nether Bourkes, and now, as I hear, MacWilliam Enter, and called by the nickname, * Kichard in Iron.' This was a notorious woman in all the coasts of Ireland. This woman did Sir Philip see and speak with : he can more at large mform you of her." The English found Grainne a powerful aUy in consolidating their power along the Western shores of the island ; and it is but fair to add that they were generous enough to recognise tliis. But although the piratical cliieftainess declared herself on the side of the English, yet she would not give up one tittle of her dignity. In 1593, her VOL. I. H 98 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. troubles by sea and land increased and multiplied, and the politic Elizabeth having invited her to London to plead her cause in person, the Con- naught princess accepted the invitation. Tradition says that Grainne O'Mailly and her retinue performed the entire journey by sea, and sailed up the Thames to the Tower Gate. In this case tradition does not seem to be far wrong, for her little son, Theobald, or Toby, who was born during the journey, was called, Tiohoid-na-Lung, or ''Theobald of the Ship." The meeting of the two royal ladies nuist have been a strange sight, — the light-haired, light-eyed, fair-faced, and rather shrcwisli -looking Ehzabeth, and the swarthy, black-eyed, and black-haired Queen of Connaught. That the latter and her retainers were not attired in the then prevailing mode is pretty certain ; but it may also be positively stated that, whatever was the fashion of their habiliments, the texture and workmanship would have borne comparison with any to be found at the Court. For in Ireland, from the earliest ages, skilled needlework was held in the highest esteem.* * The following extracts from the ancient Brehon Laws of Erinn corroborate tliis statement : — " The Fine for a Pledged Needle. " A dairt (or yearling calf) wortli four screimlls (of tliree pennies each) is what is paid aa the fine of the needle, that is, of the fine good a business woman to throw up an engagement,, or to leave a manager in the lurch ii])on the spur of the moment. Is it not possible that tlic marriage of Garrick, wliich took place m 1748^ may have been the cause ? There is no doubt but that Mrs. Woffington felt some tenderness for him, and his wife being a woman possessing youth, beauty,, wealth, and a good position in society, Peggy may have felt that in some of these matters invidious- compaiisons might be drawn, and her Irish pride rebelled at it. Garrick manied a dancer, a Made- moiselle Violette, who was patronised by the Earl and Countess of Burlington. " The httle great man" dearly loved a lord, and was often at the houses of the first nobility. There he saw the fas- cinating Viennese, who received as her dowry 6000/. and a casket of jewels.. Mi's. Woffington remained with Bich at Covent Garden imtil the beginning of 1 7 5 1. This, engage.- MABGABET WOFFINGTON. 153 ment was cliiefly remarkable for the continual dis- sensions between the manager and the performers. There was no discipline maintained in the theatre ; and the actors despised the lazy and luxurious llich, who returned the feeling. Moreover, the performers themselves were not on the best of terms Avith each other. Quin disliked Bariy ; Barry disliked Quin. Mrs. Woffington and Mrs. Gibber made no secret of their mutual dislike. Garrick tried to get Quin over to Drury Lane, where he would have kept him in order, but Quin did not choose to be subordinate to his former partner. Accordingly, he stayed with Kich, who gave him 1000/. a year, the largest salary ever ] not go to the theatre the evening " King John" was performed. The scheme suc- ceeded, the house was but one-third filled, and the receipts did not amount to forty pounds. This was the first theatrical humiliation the immortal Roscius had ever experienced, and he severely repented preferring Mrs. Furnival, — who played the part of Constance, — to George Anne. But what completed her triumph was, that when the same play was again performed, witli Sheridan as tlie lung, Gar rick as the Bastard, and Miss Bellamy as Constance, more people were turned away from the doors than could get places ; and the dispute relative to the characters, which all Dublin was aware of, made the audience receive her with the warmest marks of approbation. Notwithstanding this success, she was de- termined to return the mortification Garrick had been the cause of She waited for an op- portunity, which soon presented itself to her. The great tragedian was to have two benefits GEORGE ANNE BELLAilY. 213 during the season, and in order that they should not come too near each other, it was arranged that one of them should take place early in it. For the first benefit lie had fixed upon the play of **Jane Shore," and asked Miss Bellamy to play that character. She absolutely refused ; alleging as her excuse the objection he had made to her playing Constance — namely, her youtli. Garrick expostulated and entreated, but the young lady was iiiexorable ; and only yielded to the solicita- tions of her friend, Mrs. Butler. In connexion with this a ludicrous incident happened. Garrick had written a letter of entreaty to Miss Bellamy, in which he said that if she would only " oblige him he woidd write for her a goody-goody epilogue ; which, with the help of her eyes, should do more miscliief than ever the flesh or the devil had done since the world began." This ridiculous epistle he directed, " To My Soul's Idol, the Beautified Ophelia," and delivered it to his servant with orders to take it to Miss Bellamy. The messenger had some more agreeable amusement to ])ursue than going on his master's errands, and he gave it to a porter in the street, without having attended to tlie absurd address upon it. The porter, upon reading the superscription, and not knowing any lady throughout the whole city of Dublin who bore the title either of " My Soul's Idol" or " The 2U ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. Beautified Ophelia," naturally concluded that the whole thing was a joke. He carried the missive to his master, who happened to be a newspaper proprietor, and by that means it got the next day into the public prints. Garrick — who was very sensitive of ridicule — was much annoyed at this ; for it was tantamount to his making a public apology to the young actress. At the close of the season Garrick returned to London with the rich harvest which had crowned his toils in Dublin. U2)on the day of his departure he rode out to the Sheds of Clontarf, where Mrs. Bellamy and her daughter were staying for the benefit of the sea air and the bathing. Mrs. Butler and her daughter were there at the time, and the former presenting him with a sealed packet, said ceremoniously — " I here present you, Mr. Garrick, with something more valuable than life. In it you will read my sentiments ; but I strictly enjoin you not to open it till you have passed the Hill of Howth." Garrick took the packet with a con- ceited and conscious air, confident that it contained some valuable present, and possibly a declaration of tender sentiments. Wliat must have been his dismay, upon opening the packet, to find that it contained nothing more than "Wesley's Hymns" and " Dean Swift's Discourse on the Trinity," together with a short note, saying that he would GEORGE ANNE BELLAMY. 215 have leisure during his voyage to study the one and to digest the other. Annoyed and mortified, he offered both as a sacrifice to Neptune. Miss Bellamy was now so great a favourite with the Dublin public that Sheridan re-engaged her for the ensuing season of 1746. Lord Chesterfield Avas at this time Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and took much notice of her ; so that her aristocratic connexions were of much value to the theatre upon benefit nights. The tragedy of "All for Love, or the World well Lost," was revived, and with it the theatre re-opened (174G) with Barry and Sheridan in their unrivalled characters of Antony and Ventidius. Some extraordinary inci- limented by the visiting neighbours on my good looks, or taste in the choice of my dresses. Miss Robinson rode on horseback in a camlet safeguard, with a high-crowned bonnet. I wore a fashionable habit, and looked like something human. Envy at length assumed the form of insolence, and I was taunted perpetually on the " PEBDITA." 251 folly of appearing like a woman of fortune, that a lawyer's wife had no right to dress like a duchess, and that, though I might be very accomplished, a good housewife had no occasion for harpsichords and books, they belonged to women who had brought wherewithal to support them. Such was the language of vulgar illiberal natures ! Yet for three weeks I endured it patiently. "Knowing that Mr. Harris was disposed to think favourably of me — that he even declared he should 'have liked me for his wife, had I not married Tom,' though he was then between sixty and seventy years of age — I thought it prudent to depart, lest through the machinations of Miss ]]otsy and Mrs. Molly i should lose the share I jiad gjiined in his alfcctions. My mother was still at Bristol, and the morning of our departure being arrived, to my infinite astonishment Mr. Harris proposed accompanying us thither. It was in vain that Molly and Miss interfered to prevent him ; lie swore that he would see me safe across the Channel, whatever might be the consequence of his journey. We set out together. " After passing many days at Bristol, Mr. Harris returned to Wales, and our party set out for London. Mr. Ptobinson's mind was easy, and his hopes were confirmed by the kindness of his uncle ; he now considered himself as the most happy of mortals. We removed from Great Queen 252 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. Street to a house, No. 13, in Hatton Garden, which had been recently built. Mr. Robinson furnished it with peculiar elegance. I frequently inquired into the extent of his finances, and he as often assured me that they were in every respect competent to his expenses. In addition to our domestic estabhshment, Mr. Robinson purchased a handsome phaeton, with saddle-horses for his own use. And I now made my debut, though scarcely emerged beyond the boundaries of childhood, in the broad hemisphere of fashionable folly." It is at this point in her history that Mary Robinson first met Lord Lyttelton and his friend George Ayscough at the Pantheon Rotunda. They followed up the introduction by calling upon her the next day. Lord Lyttelton — the most accomplished libertine of his time — ostensibly courted the husband instead of the wife, professing esteem and admiration for him, and an earnest desire to cultivate his acquaintance. The pictiu-e Mrs. Robinson gives of this nobleman is not by any means flattering. She says : — " Lord Lyttelton was uniformly my aversion. His manners were overbearingly insolent, his language licentious, and his person slovenly, even to a degree that was disgusting." Although, further on in her Memoirs, Mrs. Robinson tells us that she "abhorred, decidedly "PEBDITA." 263 abhorred," Lord Lyttelton, yet she seems to have had no scruples about takmg 25i'esents from him. He wrote poetry to her, for which she says he had "considerable facility," and he also constituted himself her cavaliere servente at all places of amuse- ment. It is significant that she says very little about being ever introduced to any ladies, but records the names of the chief men of fashion of the day ; Count de Belgiose, the Imperial Ambas- sador, "one of the most accomplished foreigners I ever remember to have met ;" Lord Valentia, Cap tarn O 'Byrne, Mr. William Brereton of Drury Lane Theatre, Sir Francis Molyneux, Mr. Alder- man Sayer, George Bobert Fitzgerald, and many others. About tills time she begins to complain of the neglect of her husband ; and it must honestly be admitted that her position was a trying one. Young, beautiful, talented and, — it cannot be denied — intensely vain, and treated with indifference by ]»im who was her natural protector, slic was thrown into the constant companionship of the most licentious and fascinating men of the age. She says herself : — " Among the most dangerous of my husband's associates was George Bobert Fitzgerald.* His * The famous " Fighting Fitzgerald." 254 ILLUSTRIOUS IBISHWOMEK manners towards women were interesting and attentive. He perceived the neglect with which I was treated by Mr. Kobinson, and the pernicious influence which Lord Lyttelton had acquired over his mind ; he professed to feel the warmest interest in my welfare, lamented the destiny which had befallen me, in being wedded to a man incapable of estimating my value, and at last confessed himself my most ardent and devoted admirer. I shuddered at the declaration, for amidst all the allurements of splendid folly my mind, the purity of my virtue, was still uncontaminatcd. " I repulsed the dangerous advances of this accomplished person ; but I did not the less feel the humiliation to which a husband's indifference had exposed me. God can bear witness to the purity of my soul, even surrounded by temptations and mortified by neglect. Whenever I ventured to inquii'e into pecuniary resources, Mr. Robinson silenced me by saying he was independent ; added to this assurance. Lord Lyttelton repeatedly pro- mised that, through his courtly interest, he would very shortly obtain for my husband some honour- able and lucrative situation. " I confess that I reposed but little confidence in the promises of such a man, though my husband believed them inviolable. Frequent parties were made at his Lordship's house in Hill Street, and "PEBDITA." 255 many invitations pressed for a visit to his seat at Hagley. These I peremptorily refused, till the noble hy[Docrite became convmced of my aversion, and adopted a new mode of jiursuing his machina- tions. " One forenoon Lord Lyttelton called in Hatton Garden, as was almost his daily custom ; and on finding that Mr. Kobinson was not at home, requested to speak with me on business of im- portance. I found him seemingly much distressed. He uifoimed me that he had a secret to commu- nicate of considerable moment both to my interest and happiness. I started : * Nothing, I trust in heaven, has befallen my husband !' said I, in a voice scarcely artlcidato. Lord Lyttelton hcsi tatcd. ' How little does that husband deserve the solici- tude of such a wife !' said he ; ' but,' contmued his Lordship, * I fear that I have in some degree aided in alienating his conjugal affections. I could not bear to see such youth, such merit, so sacri- ficed.' ' Speak briefiy, my Lord,' said L 'Then,' replied Lord Lyttelton, ' I must inform you that your husband is the most false and undeserving of that name !' *" I do not beheve it I' said I, indignantly. * Then you shall be convinced,' answered his Lordship ; 'but remember, if you betray your true and zealous friend, I must fight your husband ; 256 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. for he never will forgive my having discovered his infidelity.* " ' It cannot be true/ said I. ' You have been misinformed.' " ' Hear me,' said he. ' You cannot be a stranger to my motives for thus cultivating the friendship of your husband. My fortune is at your disposal. E-obinson is a ruined man ; his debts are consi- derable, and nothing but destruction can await you. Leave him ! Command my powers to serve you.' *' I would hear no more ; my hours were all dedicated to sorrow, for I now heard that my husband, even at the period of his marriage, had an attachment which he had not broken, and that his infidelities were as public as the ruin of his finances was inevitable. I remonstrated — I was almost frantic. My distress was useless, my wishes to retrench our expenses were ineffectual. Lord Lyttelton now rested his only hope in the certainty of my husband's ruin. He therefore took every step and embraced every opportunity to involve him more deeply m calamity. Parties were made to Bichmond and SalthiU, to Ascot Heath and Epsom races, in all of which Mr. Kobinson bore his share of expense, with the addition of post-horses. Whenever he seemed to shrink from his augmenting indiscretion, Lord "PEBDITA." 257 Lyttelton assured him that, through his interest, an appointment of honourable and pecuniary importance should be obtained ; though I em- braced every opportunity to assure his Lordship that no consideration upon earth should ever make me the victim of his artifice. " Mr. Fitzgerald still paid me unremitting attention. His manners towards women w.ere beautifully interesting. He frequently cautioned me against the libertine Lyttelton, and as fre- quently lamented the misguided confidence which Mr. Kobinson reposed in him. " About this time a party was one evening made to Yauxhall. Mr. Fitzgerald was the pei"Son who jiroposed it, and it consisted of six or eight persons. Tlie iiiglit was warm, and tlic gardens crowded ; we supped in the cii'cle which has the statue of Handel in its centre. The hour growing late, or rather early in the morning, our company dispersed, and no one remained excepting Mr. Robinson, Mr. Fitzgerald, and myself Suddenly a noise was heard near the orchestra ; a crowd had assembled, and two gentlemen were quarrelling furiously. Mr. E,. and Fitzgerald ran out of the box. I rose to follow them, but they were lost in the throng, and I thought it most prudent to resume my place, which I had just quitted, as the only certain way of theii' finding me in safety. In a moment VOL. I. s 258 ILLUSTRIOUS IBISEWOMEN. Fitzgerald returned ; ' Hobinson,' said he, ' is gone to seek you at the entrance-door ; he thought you had quitted the box.' * I did for a moment/ said I, * but I was fearful of losing him in the crowd, and therefore returned.' " ' Let me conduct you to the door ; wo shall certainly find him there,' replied Mr. Fitzgerald ; * I know that he will be uneasy.' I took his arm, and he ran hastily towards the entrance-door on the Vauxhall Eoad. " Mr. Ilobinson was not there : we proceeded to look for our carriage ; it stood at sonic distance. I was alarmed and bewildered. Mr. Fitzgerald hurried me along. * Don't be uneasy ; we shall certainly find him,' said he, 'fori left him here not five minutes ago.' As he spoke, he stopped abruptly, a servant opened a chaise-door ; there were four horses harnessed to it, and by the hght of the lamps on the side of the footpath I plainly perceived a pistol in the pocket' of the door, which was open. I drew back. Mr. Fitzgerald placed his arm round my waist, and endeavoured to lift me up the step of the chaise, the servant watching at a little distance. I resisted, and inquired what he meant by such conduct. His hand trembled excessively, while he said in a low voice, ' Robin- son can but fight me.' I was terrified beyond all description. I made him loose his hold, and ran "PEBDITA." 259 towards the eiitrance-door. Mr. Fitzgerald now 23erceived Mr. E-obinson. * Here he comes !' ex- claimed he, with easy nonchalance. 'We had found the wrong carriage, Mr. Robinson ; we have been looking after you, and Mrs. E^obinson is alarmed beyond expression.' " ' I am, indeed,' said I. Mr. Bobinson now took my hand, we stepped into the coach, and Mr. Fitzgerald followed " This happened shortly before her eldest child, her " darling Maria," was born ; and knowing George Robert Fitzgerald's propensity for duelling, she thought it better not to say anything to her husl)and about what had occurred, Tlie excuse of lijiving mistaken tlic cari-iagc seemed so })lausible that slio let tlio matter rest. But slie had liad a warning, and from that time forward tried to avoid Fitzgerald as much as possible. They seem to have been living m a state of recldess extravagance at this period. The truth was, Mr. Robinson became despenite. The large debts with which he was encumbered before his marriage laid the foundation of all his succeeding embarrassments, and he saw that no effort of economy or of professional labour could arrange his shattered finances. Now came scenes of trial and humlUation. Their property was seized, and they were reduced to the direst straits, during S 2 260 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. which their noble friends studiously held aloof. Mrs. E-ohinson was sent to her husband's friends in the country, and there her child was born. But the quiet of a country life did not suit her, and she soon returned to London with her " sweet Maria," and a small volume of her own poems, which she intended publishing.* It is not stated that she ever carried out her intention of doing so. Indeed, it is very probable that she never did, and that the manuscript volume of her poems now in the British Museum is the one referred to. As it has neither date nor title-page, it is diificult to decide. Notwithstanding their recent difficulties, Mr. and Mrs. Robinson again soon plunged into all the dissipations of London. The Pantheon Botunda was revisited, and again she became the object of the attentions of the persevering Fitz- gerald and of the odious Lord Lyttelton. The latter had now been for some time past married to Mrs. Apphia Peach, and the hypocrisy of his character is very plainly shown in the way in which he pursued Mrs. Bobinson with his dis- honourable importunities, whilst at the same time he was writing letters full of beautiful moral sentiments to his father. * In tlie MS. room of the British Museum Library there is a MS. volume of Mrs. Robinson's poems, in her own handwriting. As literary productions they are utterly devoid of merit. The caligraphy is excellent, almost like copper-plate. ' PEEDITA." 261 Their affairs liad now reached such a crisis that Mr. Kobinson was once more arrested, and his wife took up her abode with him in the prison. There seemed to be no prospect of his being released, and, being reduced to the direst pecuniary distress, the idea of the stage again recurred to Mrs. Kobinson. Tlirough the instrumentality of some friends she was introduced to Sheridan, and gave a specimen of lier dramatic powers. In tlic green- room of Drury Lane Theatre slio repeated tlie principal scenes from. " Ilomeo and Juliet," in the presence of Garrick, Sheridan, and Brereton, the latter reciting the part of Romeo. The former was much pleased with her, and fixed upon the cha- racter of Juliet as tlio one m wliich she ^^^'^s to make her debut Garrick entertained very sanguine hopes of her success, and when the eventful night arrived sat in the orchestra to watch her. The fame of the new actress's beauty and talent attracted a crowded house, and the critics thronged tlie green- room. She was very nervous at first, and did not dare look at her audience during the whole of the first scene ; but was greeted with shouts of ap- plause, and as she gained more confidence the Enthusiasm of her audience mcreased. Mrs. Ro- binson was emphatically a success, but less from her talent as an actress than from her fascinations 262 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. as a woman. " My dre.ss," she says herself, " was a pale pink satin, trimmed with crape, richly spangled with silver ; my head was ornamented with white feathers, and my monumental suit for the last scene was white satin, and completely plain ; excepting that I wore a veil of the most transparent gauze, which fell quite to my feet from the back of my head, and a string of beads round my waist, to which was suspended a cross appro- priately fashioned." Sheridan was completely fascinated by the charming actress ; and slie seems to liavc taken more than a mere friendly mterest in him. " This distinguished being," as she repeatedly calls him in her Memoirs, was a frequent visitor at her house, and does not appear to have lost in her estimation by comparison with her husband. The latter was a gambler and a neglectful husband, and certainly left his beautiful wife too much to herself Her popularity increased, and her pecuniary prospects began to brighten so far as to justify her taking a house in the vicinity of Drury Lane. Here her husband, who had managed to effect his release from the debtors' prison, joined her ; and again, with their customary recklessness, they plunged into all the dissipations of a fashionable life. They had horses, phaetons, and ponies. Mrs. Hobinson set the fashion in dress ; her house was thronged "PEBDITA." 263 with visitors, and her morning levees were crowded by all the rank and fashion of the day. Mr. Fox and the Earl of Derby were amongst her most devoted admirers ; but the only one for whom — at that time — she seemed to have any especial fancy, was Sheridan. "He saw me," she casuistically records in one of her letters, " ill-bestowed upon a man who neither loved nor valued me ; he lamented my destiny, but witli sucli delicate propriety, that it consoled, while it revealed to me the unhappiness of my situation." For two years had Mrs. Robinson now been on the stage, performing in both tragedy and comedy. Her domestic life was very miserable, owing to the neglect of lier husband and his unfortunate propensity for gambling. On several occasions tlieir goods and chattels were seized for his debts, and only rescued through the hberality and inter- vention of sundry of his wife's admirers. Mrs. Robinson had two children at this time — her " darling Maria," and another daughter named Sophia, two years younger. All through her curious life these daughters remained faithful to her. During the autumn of 1780, "The Winter's Tale" was performed at Drury Lane by command of their Majesties. It was the first time Mrs, Robinson had ever played before the Royal family. 264 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. and the first character in which she was destined to appear was tliat of Perdita. It was not, how- ever, her first appearance in that part, as she had often before played it to the Ilermione of Mrs. Hartley and Miss Farren. When she entered the green-room, dressed for the first act, she looked so exceptionally radiant in her grace and beauty, that the assembled company rallied her good- humouredly upon being bent upon making a con- quest of the Prince of Wales. They little foresaw the variety of events that would arise from that, night's exhibition ! Throughout the play the Prince regarded her with fixed attention, and whenever her position on the boards brought her within hearing of what was said in the royal box, he made some flattering remarks. So gratifying were they to her vanity, that she became so embarrassed that she could scarcely proceed with the play. Every one in the theatre observed the Prince's particular attention. At the conclusion of the play he bowed to her in a very marked manner ; and she returned home to a supper party where the whole conversation centred in* encomiums on the person, graces, and amiable manners of the Heir Apparent. The most selfish and unprincipled of men, the Prince of Wales, aided and abetted by that most finished scoundrel, his friend Lord Maiden, was "PEIWITA." 265 completely fascinated by the lovely actress, and deliberately set about trying to get her into his power. Weak-minded and inordinately vain, Mrs. Robinson was dazzled by the station, and beguiled by the protestations, of her royal lover. Without in any degree extenuating her follies, this much may be admitted — that she is entitled to some indulgence on the ground of the neglect of the husband who should have protected her, and the persevering arts that were used to ensnare her. How the first advances were made cannot be better told than in her own words. "Lord Maiden made me a morning visit; Mr. Ilobinson was not at home, and I received him rather awkwardly. But his Lordship's embarrass- ment far exceeded mine : he attempted to speak, paused, hesitated, a^Dologised. I knew not why. He hoped I would pardon him ; that I would not mention somethmg he had to communicate ; that I would consider the peculiar delicacy of his situation, and then act as I tliought proper. I could not comprehend his meaning, and therefore requested that he would be explicit. " After some moments of evident rumination, he tremblingly drew a small letter from his pocket. I took it, and knew not what to say. It was addressed to Perdita. I smiled, I believe, rather sarcastically, and opened the billet It contained 266 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. a few words, bat those expressive of more than common civility ; they were signed, Floiuzel. " ' Well, my Lord, and what does this mean V said I, half angry. " ' Can you not guess the writer ?' said Lord Maiden. " ' Perhaps yourself, my Lord V cried I, gravely. " ' Upon my honour, no/ said the Viscount. 'I should not have dared so to address you on so short an acquaintance.' "' I pressed him to tell me from whom the letter came. lie aj)y, to see you, being, " My dear Lord, yours truly, " Mary Eobinson." This letter was never answered ! Eveiy cir- cumstance points to Lord Maiden having been the one to whom it was addressed. " She was. unquestionably very beautiful," says Miss Hawkins, " but more so in the face than in the figure ; and as she proceeded m her course she acquired a remarkable facihty in adapting her deportment to her dress. When she was to be seen daily in St. James's Street or Pall Mall, even in her chariot, the variation was striking. To-day she was a paysanne, with her straw hat tied at tlie back of her head, looking as if too new to what she passed to know what she looked at. Yesterday, perhaps, she had been the dressed belle of Hyde Park, trimmed, powdered, patched, painted to the utmost power of rouge and white lead ; to-morrow she woidd be the cravated Amazon of the riding-house ; but be she what she might, the hats of the fashionable promenaders swept the ground as she passed.- " FEBDITA:' 281 But in her outset, ' the style' was a high phafeton, in which she was driven by the favoured of the day. Three candidates and her husband were outriders, and this in the face of the congregations tiu'ning out of places of worship About the year 1778 she appeared on the stage, and gained, from the character in which she charmed, the name of Perdita. She then started in one of the new streets of Marylebone, and was in her altitude. Afterwards, when a little in the wane, she resided under protection in Berkeley Square, and appeared to guests as mistress of the house as well as of its master. Her manners and conversa- tion were said by those invited to want refinement. 1 saw her one day handed to her extra- vagant vis-d-vis by a man whom she pursued with a doting passion ; all was still externally brilliant ; she was fine and fashionable, and the men of the day in Bond Street still pirouetted as her carriage passed them. The next day the vehicle was re- claimed by the maker ; the Adonis whom she courted fled her : she followed, all to no purpose. She then took up a new life in London, became literary What was the next glimpse ? On a table in one of the waiting-rooms of the Opera House was seated a woman of fashionable appear- ance, ^till beautiful, but not in the bloom of beauty's pride ; she was not noticed except by the 282 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. eye of pity. In a few minutes two liveried ser- vants came to lier, and they took from their pockets long white sleeves, which they drew on their arms ; they then lifted her up and conveyed her to her carriage; it was the then helpless, para- lytic Perdita/"^^ In the autumn of 1800 Mrs. Hobinson's health became very much worse. She suffered chiefly from an accumulation of water upon her chest. Her daughters were unceasing in their efforts to alleviate her sufferings ; but all was of no avail. On the 21st of December she inquired how near was Christmas Day. Upon being told, she replied, " I shall never live to see it." During the whole of the next day her sufferings were excru- ciating, and towards the evening she sank into a kind of lethargic slumber. Her favourite daughter, Mary, approached the bedside, and earnestly con- jured her mother to speak if it were in her power. ** My darling Mary /" she ejaculated, faintly, and spoke no more. She then became unconsciovis, and breathed her last about the noon of the following day. She was in her forty-third year, twenty-seven of which she had been more or less before the public. Thus ended the career of the Vide P. Fitzgerald's " Komance of the Stage.' "PEBDITA." 283 lovely Perdita — the last of the famous jDiipils of the famous Garrick. Mrs. Bobinson died at Englefield Green, where for long after it was the fashion for Londoners to drive out and visit her shrine. She was buried in Old Windsor churchyard. KITTY CLIVE. Born, a.d. 1711. Died, a.d. 1785. N the year 1G90 — when the ill-fated James II. was obliged to fly to France after the decisive battle of the Boyne — a young Iriwli gcntlcnian from Kilkenny atLachod himself to the fortunes of the fallen kino;. He was a young lawyer named William Haftor, a descendant of an old and honourable Irish family, many members of which, during the disastrous period which preceded the Kevolution and the accession of William III., had taken an active part in the political affairs of Ireland. Upon the accession of the Prince of Orange the Haftor estates in the County of Kilkenny were confiscated to the Crown, thus leaving their right- ful owner penniless. He entered the service of Louis XIV., where he showed such ability that he was soon promoted. After some time he obtained a pardon, and, returning to London, married a Mrs. Daniel, the daughter of a wealthy citizen living on Fish Street Hill. Such were the parents EITTY GLIVE. 285 of " that bundle of combustibles," bewitching Kitty CUve. She was born in the year 1711, and her early youth was passed in the old city mansion on Fish Street Hill. Her father— a genial, dashing Irish- man, capable of telhng a good story, and able to give a good dinner — was a man of much cultiva- tion, and affected the society of Hterary people. Amongst those who frequented his house was Theophilus Gibber— son of the laureate— who afterwards married Miss Jolinson, the intimate friend of Kitty Raftor. He heard Kitty sing and recite one day, and was so struck with her talents that he immediately introduced her to his father. Tlio cyni(;;il Colloy Gibber was charmed with this bright-looking girl of sixteen, and immediately eno-ao-ed her, at a salary of twenty shillings a week, to play subordmate parts at Drury Lane Theatre. It does not appear that her family made any resistance to her going upon the stage, and adopt- ing it as a profession. She had a brother who followed her example, but he never made any reputation as an actor, and is now only remem- bered as the steward who managed the business aflairs of his more famous sister. Kitty Glive made her first appearance upon the stage at Drury Lane in the autumn of 1728. The play was 286 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. " Mitliridates, King of Pontiis," and the young actress made her dSbut in the character of Ismenes, page to Ziphares. Some songs were introduced solely upon lier account, and were received with extraordinary applause. During this season she continually sang between the acts — as was then customary, a fashion which has been replaced by the orchestra of more modern times — or acted in subordinate parts, where songs were frequently interposed for the purpose of showing off her piquant style of singing. She speedily became a public favourite, but does not seem to liave, all at once, obtained the marvellous popularity so sud- denly achieved by many of the actresses of her time. Nevertheless, that her acting had made no little impression upon the public may be gathered from the fact, that when Colley Gibber's pastoral drama of " Love in a Iliddle" was acted at Drury Lane, it was Kitty Olive's singing and sprightliness which carried it through. The audience, who had lately been wearied by several of the laureate's vapid compositions, had caballed beforehand to damn the play. They openly expressed their disap- proval of it, until the charming Kitty appeared, when some one in a stage-box, addressing the unruly pit, exclaimed in a voice of dismay — " Zounds ! take care, or this charming little devil will spoil all !" She did spoil all their preconcerted KITTY GLIVE. 287 schemes, for she turned the tide in favour of the drama. In the year 1732, when she was just twenty- one, she married Mr. George CHve, the son of Baron Olive, a celebrated lawyer of the day. The marriage proved to be a very unsuitable one ; Mr. Clive was learned, grave, reserved, and objected to his wife continuing upon the stage. She refused to give up her j^i'ofession, the result being much discontent, mutual recrhninations, and finally — after tliis state of affairs had lasted for a couple of years — a separation was effected with mutual con- sent. Her husband here drops out of Mrs. Olive's life. Tlio ])ublic history of an. actress's career must necessarily be, to some extent, a history of play- bills. For the next few years we find Mrs. Olive playing such parts as Nell, in " The Devil to Pay ;" Narcissa, in " Love's Last Shift ;" Miss Hoyden, in " The Relapse ;" and occasionally some subordinate Shakspearian j^^rts. Horace Walpole says that she first made her reputation as an actress as Nell, in " The Devil to Pay." The latter was the most successful of Oolley Oibber's ballad operas, and was written especially for Mrs. Olive. Li one of his letters. Dr. Burney says that Kitty Olive's singing was intolerable when she meant to be fine, but that in ballad farces and songs of humour it 288 ILLUSTBIOUS IBISEWOMEN. was, like her comic acting, everything it should be. Oliver Goldsmith, who was bom the same year as Mrs. Clive, and who, at the time when the latter made her first success as Nell, was wandering with his flute all over Europe, said, when he saw her some years later: **Mrs. Clive! but what need I talk of her, since, without exagge- ration, she lias more true humour than any actor or actress upon the English or any other stage I have seen." And Oliver Goldsmith was no mean judge of humour. She was a " bundle of combus- tibles," clever, witty, wayward, sensible, and sar- castic. One of her contemporaries* says she was very vulgar, but yet " of genuine worth — indeed, INDEED ! she was a diamond of the first water !" During the season of 1741-42, Mrs. Clive played in the Aungier Street Theatre, in Dublin. It was here that the bitter rivalry, which lasted during their lives, commenced between Mrs. Clive and Mrs. Woffington. The latter and Garrick were delighting Dublin's play-loving population at the Smock Alley Theatre ; whilst Mrs. Clive, Quin, and Kyan tried to bear off the palm at Aungier Street. On one night Mrs. Woffington was announced for her celebrated character of Lady Townly, and Mrs. Chve foolishly played the same * Tate WilMnson. KITTY GLIVE. 289 character upon the same night. It was an un- wise thing to have done, for Mrs. Woffington was too weU established a DubHn favourite for the playgoers not to give her the preference. Mrs. Chve's rendering of the part was a failure, but she made ample amends for it the next night by the way in which she played Nell, in "The Devil to Pay. " During her engagement at Aungier Street, she played also in ** The Virgin Unmasked," " The Country Wife," and as Euphrosyne, in " Comus," then acted in DubHn for the first time. Beyond these theatrical details of her visit to Dublin, there is no further record of her life there. We know not whether she socially met Peg Woff- Liigton and Garrick. The latter was very mucli afraid of Kitty's sharp tongue ; there was nothing in the world he dreaded so much as an altercation with her, and he always made it a drawn battle. He was very much in love with Peg Woffington at this time, so that it is more than prol^able lie did not jiay much attention to Kitty. The latter and Pyan returned to London at the close of the season, leaving Garrick and Woffington in Dublin. In the autumn of 1743 we hear of her again at Drury Lane, where she essayed Lady Townly, notwithstanding her failure in Dublin. The absence of Mrs. Woffington, and possibly a less critical London audience, enabled her to get VOL. I. u 290 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. tliroiigli the piece with some show of success. Towards the close of the season she had a row with the manager, which resulted in her publish- ing her " Complaint." It was a very one-sided statement, but as she was a public favourite, and had the town on her side, she got the best of it. She had now been for some years living at Little Strawberry Hill — or Clieveden, as it was sometimes called — at Twickenham, given to her by Horace Walpole for her \ise during her life ; and what a brilliant assemblage did not the hvely actress draw lu-ound her in those Teacup times of hood and lioop, And when the patch was worn ! All the wits and beaux and fine ladies of the day visited her. Horace Walpole and his nieces and Lady Waldegrave were her constant guests, and before " The Castle of Otranto" was sent to the printers, it was read aloud at one of Kitty Chve's supper parties. Those supper parties ! How lingeringly and quaintly Horace Walpole dwells upon them and descants upon them. " Am just come from supping at Mrs. Clive's," is no infrequent entiy in his voluminous letters. How he and Kitty fought ; how she won an apparent victory by means of blustering, and how he invariably gained the day by liis diplomacy, are amongst the most amusing KITTY OLIVE. 291 incidents he records. " You never saw anything so droll," he writes, "as Mrs. Olive's countenance, between the heat of the weather, the pride in her legacy, and the effort to appear unconcerned."* Fierce rivalry now raged between Mrs. Olive and Mrs. Woffington. They were at this time (1745, '46, '47, '48) both acting at Drury Lane, Garrick and Quin being the managers. Garrick is said to have hated her, although years afterwards, Avhen she had left the stag^e, she accused him of "a sneaking fondness" for her. It is more than possible that although she often did battle against him, that there was no real animosity at the bottom of her sharp speeches. She was careless as to \vl).M,t hIio Raid ; Gai'i'Ick wmh HoiiKilivo to every thing th.'it was said coiiceruing liim. In later years she bore noble testimony to his disinterested desire to advance the theatrical profession, and bore ample testimony to his upright conduct. The MS. playbiUs of Drury Lane show her as playing every season at that theatre from the year 1750 to 1769. It was the only London theatre at which she was ever regularly engaged, and for forty-one years, save one visit to DubUn, she con- tinued to act there, and to be one of the chief * She had been left a small legacy of 50L Vide Walpole's Letters, vol. iii. p. 92. U2 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. attractions of Drury Lane. This is no slight argument in favour of her popularity. Kitty Clive has the honour of having played the chief character in the first French piece that ever was adapted for the English stage. It was called " La Parisienne," and the pait played by Kitty was that of a smart-tongued waiting-maid. In a farce which she produced in 1750, for her own benefit, she scored an unqualified success. It was called " The Rehearsal, or Bays in Petticoats," and long continued to hold the stage. " The Winter's Tale," with Garrick as Leontes, was produced several times during the season of 1755-5G, Mrs. Clive playing the cliief female part. Woodward — an excellent actor — was also in the cast. Between him and Mrs. Clive considerable animosity was well known to exist, a circumstance which gave life and interest to the piece. It was said that the actor threw her down with a violence more real than was warranted by the situation. Tlie fierce and real resentment of the actress at this treatment, and her rage, which she could liardly control, all fell in excellently with the tone of the piece, and delighted the audience. The following year witnessed the retirement of Mrs. Woffington, and Mrs. Clive had now the province of Comedy all to herself Neither Miss Pope nor Miss Eliza Farren — ^both Irishwomen KITTY GLIVE. 293 also — had then won the laurels which they after- wards wore so grandly and gracefully. Garrick, too, had saved plenty of money, and now lived in comparative retirement at Hampton. Still " His Majesty's servant," yet he took the world much easier. He contented himself with playing well- known parts, seldom essaying a new character. At this period the Chelsea and Bow china manufac- tories were in a most flourishing condition, and Garrick, who had a nice taste in " curios," filled his house with the cliina which was then the rage. These manufactories issued a series of pure white chma statuettes, and many of these figures found their best originals upon the stage. Garrick as Richard ILL, Woodward hi "The Fhio Gentle- man," and Kitty Clive as The Lady in " Lethe," were favourite figures. Even now they fetch enormous prices at sales. At Mr. Henry G. Bohn's famous sale of old English pottery and porcelain,* Kitty Chve and Woodward in Chelsea ware sold for the enormous sum of 43/., whilst a white Bow figure of Kitty Clive alone fetched 31/. Peg Wolfing ton and Kitty Clive were some tunes sold together as companion figures. Two statuettes in Bristol ware, supposed to be their portraits, represent them as sphinxes. It is just possible Monday, Marcli 15th, 1875, and three following days. 294 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. they may be portraits : but, on the other hand, it is just as likely that they are not, for it is scarcely probable that the strict Quaker china manufac- turers of Bristol would take as their models two fascinating actresses. For the next few years wo find Mrs. Clive chiefly performing in stock dramas, with seldom a new play or a new character. In 1760 she produced a farce, called " Every Woman in her Humour," but it was not very successful. " A Sketch of a Fine Lady's Rout," pi-oduced in 17G3, was more fortunate, for we find it ficqucntly announced in the bills of Drury Lane. Concerning her public career there is little more to be gleaned. She acted every season until her retii-ement, spoke the epilogues — often written for her by Horace Walpole — frequently, and was the faithful servant of the public until her retirement in 1769. She performed for the last time upon the night of April 24th, 1769, and took a benefit upon that oc- casion, when the plays selected were " The Wonder" and "Lethe. " Mrs. Clive was then in her fifty-ninth year, and for forty-one years had been the delight of the play-loving population, and the chief exponent of female comedy characters at Drury Lane. " I am so sorry to lose you, Kitty," said Garrick, with feigned regret, upon the night of her retirement. " You lie, Davie ! you lie 1" she retorted ; " and you KITTY GLIVE. 295 know you do ! You would light up for joy, only the candles would cost you sixpence." The latter in allusion to Garrick's well-known parsimony. Kitty Chve was the best soubrette that ever ti'od the British stage. She had an inexliaustible fund of spirits, vivacity, and variety ; and was invaluable m any piece that had to be carried through with much bustle and quick repartee. Slie left the stage just in time ; whilst she was still "drawing," and stiU delighting the public. Over her audiences she reigned suj^remely ; they smiled with her, sneered with her, giggled with her, and laughed aloud with her. She was the true Comic Genius, — and they recognised it. In 17G0 or 17G1, Charles Churcliill published his famous " Eosciad." In it the professional cha- racters of Drury Lane and Co vent Garden theatres were examined with an acuteness of criticism, an easy flow of humour and sarcasm, which rendered what he probably considered as a temporary trifle a publication of uncommon popularity, and a valuable contribution to the history of the stage. He had, however, so little encouragement in bring- ing this poem forward that five guineas were refused as the price he valued it at. Accordingly, he printed it at his own risk, when he had scarcely money enough to pay for the necessary advertisements. The "Rosciad" was an enor- 296 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. mous success, and in it he thus alludes to Kitty CUve :— Just to their worth, we female rights admit. Nor bar their claim to empire or to wit ; First, giggling, plotting chambermaids arrive. Hoydens and romps, led on by Gen'ral Clive. In spite of outward blemishes she shone, For humour famed, and humour all her own. Easy, as if at home, the stage she trod, Nor sought the critic's praise, nor feared his rod. Original in spirit and in ease, She pleased, by hiding all attempts to please. . No comic actress ever yet could raise On Humour's base, more credit or more praise. Kitty Clive was an inveterate gambler, and her card-parties — where, to use Walpole's phrase, she "made miraculous draughts of fishes" — at Little Strawberry Hill were famous. With "Bonny Dame Cadwallader," as she was familiarly called, hved her brother, William Raftor, who had failed as an actor, chiefly from his ugliness and awkward demeanour. He was a man of much information, possessing an enormous fund of original humour. In the talent of telling a humorous love-story he was unequalled, and seems to have been a general favourite with the brilliant circle surrounding his no less brilliant sister. A youth of folly, and an age of cards, wrote Pope, referring to Kitty Olive's ruhng pas- sion. "Mrs. Clive," writes Horace Walpole, "I flatter myself, is really recovered, having had no KITTY CLIVE. 297 relapse since I mentioned her last. She even partakes of the diversions of the carnival which at Twickenham commences at Michaelmas, and lasts as long as there ai-e four persons to make a pool. I have preached against hot rooms, hut the Devil, who can conceal himself in a black ace as well as in an apple or a guinea, has been too mighty for me, and so, like other divines, when I cannot root out vice, I join in it."* What a pleasant life she must have led at Chve- den — as Walpole humorously called it — whence he cut a green lane across the meadows to his own house, and called it Drury-Lane. " Trim Horace and Portly Clive," with their brilliant company, jiliilandering and gossiping through the pleasant Twickenham meadows, or over a cup of tea, was no unusual sight. She was almost as fond of tea as she was of cards, and when she lived in lodgings in Jermyn Street — in her professional days — Sir Joshua Reynolds not infrequently took a " dish o' tay" with the jovial, ugly, witty, sensible actress. Kitty had few cares at this time ; her private cha- racter was iiTeproachable ; her chief trials were when the taxgatherer ran off, and she was made to pay her rates twice ; or when, as she said, the parish refused to mend her ways ; or when she * Vide Horace Walpole's Letters, vol. viii. pp. 186, 187. 298 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. was robbed in her own lane by footpads. *' Have you not heard," she wrote to Garrick in 1770, "of your poor Pivy? I have been robbed and mur- dliered, coining from Kingston. Jimey" (her brother) '* and I in a post-chey, at half-past nine, just by Teddington Church was stopt. I only lost a little silver and my senses ; for one of them came into the carriage with a great horse pistol, to search for my watch, but I had it not with me." Consi- dering Kitty's customary orthography, this letter is a marvel of good spelling. But althougli Mrs. Clive had abandoned the stage, she did not cease to take a warm interest in her former profession. Her countrywoman, Miss Pope — then steadily rising in the favour of the public — spent much of her time at Little Straw- berry Hill, where Mrs. Clive assisted her with much good advice. She and Garrick became very good friends after she left the stage. He took to praising her in the green-room ; but when Kitty was told of this, she only laughed, and shrewdly said that he only did it for the sake of annoying Mrs. Abingdon, whom he dishked. Mrs. Clive very often visited the theatre after her retirement ; and, the year before her death, went to see Mrs. Siddons as Lady Macbeth. Upon being asked her opinion of the great actress, she replied that " it was all truth and daylight." She was too generous- KITTY OLIVE. 299 minded ever to withhold praise where praise was due. Certainly, it was often given grudgingly and spitefully, but it was accorded nevertheless. Ajnvpos of this, an amusing story is told con- cerning Garrick and her. At the time of the occurrence she had never seen him perform in tragedy, and during one of their squabbles said she did not think he could do so. Determined to convince her, he assumed Hamlet in a few days. KiLty stood at tho wings ; the genuine enthusiasm for her art caused her to forget her private pique, and she applauded vigorously. " Well, Kitty," said Garrick complacently, as he came off after the last scene, " have I convinced you that I can act in tragedy ?" The actress was immediately for- gotten in the woman : bursting into tears of vexation, she exclaimed with her customary want of coherence of ideas, — " Tragedy ! Why, d n you, Davie ! you could act a gridii-on !" Mrs. Clive was now (in 1785) an old woman. Slie was in lier seventy-fifth year, and constantly ailing; but her exhaustless energy hmdered her from giving way. She had a severe attack of some chest complaint in the spring of 1782, from wliich she does not seem ever to have quite re- covered. Over and over again Horace Walpole expresses his concern about her health. More fortunate in her old age than most women of her :300 ILLUSTRIOUS IBISEWOMEN. profession at that time, she had a free house, plenty of money, and plenty of friends. They smoothed the way for her, but they could not avert the last scene of all. " My poor old friend (Mrs. Clive) is a great loss ; but it did not much surprise mc, and the manner comforts me. I had played at cards with her at Mrs. Gostling's three nights before I came to town, and fancied her extremely confused, and not knowing what she did : indeed, I perceived something of the sort before, and had found her much broken this autumn. It seems that the day after I saw her, she went to General Lister's biu'ial, and caught cold, and had been ill for two or three days. On tl^e Wednesday morning she rose to have her bed made ; and while sitting on the bed with her maid by her, sank down at once, and died without a pang or a groan. Poor Mr. Eaftor is struck to the greatest degree, and for some days refused to see anybody. She is to be buried to- night."* The Gentleman's Magazine for December 6th, 1785, has the following notice : — " At Twickenham, aged 72, Mrs. Catherine Clive. She was the daughter of Mr. WiUiam Raftor, who was bred to the law." * Letter from Horace Walpole to Lady Browne. Date, De- cember 14th, 1785. KITTY OLIVE. 301 She was buried in a vault beneath Twickenliam church. Kitty Chve was not beautiful. Horace Walpole constantly says she was " bonny" and " bewitch- ing." From what can be gathered from the various scattered contemporary notices, it may safely be asserted that her attractiveness lay in a certain charm of manner, combined with her un- failing humour and high spirits. She was noble- natured and generous-minded, and quite worthy of the appellation bestowed upon her by Percy Fitzgerald, who calls her " a pearl of the stage !" DOEOTHY JORDAN. Born, a.d. 1762. Died, a.d. 1816. ET another victim to Royal caprice and selfishness ! The cliild of an Irishman and of the daughter of a Welsh clergy- man, Dorothy Bland was born in Waterford about the year X7G2 — that southern Irish city which has given to the stage three of its best actresses — namely, Kitty Olive, Maria Pope, and the subject of this sketch. Under the name of Miss Francis she made her debut on the Dubhn stage in 1777, as Fhcebe, in "As You Like It." Iler success seems to have been rather moderate, in consequence of which, and also because of a row which she had with Daly, the manager, she went to Oork, where she was warmly received, and afforded a free benefit, by which she cleared the munificent sum of 40/. ! Nothing succeeds like success ; and in conse- quence of the favourable reception afforded to her by the good people of Oork, who were charmed with her archness of manner and her sportive sim- DOROTHY JORDAN. 303 plicity, Daly made the young actress an ofler of three gumeas a week, if she would only return to Smock Alley. She accepted this engagement, but soon left Dublin again. Daly acted rudely towards her, which she resented, and in 1782 she went to England, where she was engaged by Tate Wilkin- son to appear at the Leeds Theatre, as Calista, in "The Fair Penitent." Upon being introduced to Tate Wilkinson, he asked her what was her " line" — whether " tragedy, comedy, or opera ;" to which she at once replied with nlacrity, " Them all !" Moreover, she undertook to give him a specimen of her operatic powers as soon as the tragedy was over, by going on and singing " The Greenwood Laddie." Wilkinson was almost afraid to risk the innovation ; however, the wild Irish girl persisted, and had her way. ** But on she jumped," says Boaden, " with her elastic spring, and a smile that Nature's own cunning hand had moulded, in a frock and a little mob-cap, and her curls as she wore them all her hfe ; and she sang her ballad so enchantingly as to fascinate her hearers, and convince the manager that every charm had not been exhausted by past times, nor all of them numbered ; for the volunteer, unaccompanied ballad of Mrs. Jordan was pe- culiar to her, and charmed only by her voice and manner." 304 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. It was whilst at York* she assumed — by the advice of some of her friends there — the name of ** Mrs. Jordan." Tate Wilkinson suggested the cognomen ; " for," said he, " you have just crossed over the waters of Jordan — the Irish Channel." With this manager she also went to Leeds, back again to York, but during this provincial tour does not appear to have scored any particular success. Still in Tate Wilkinson's company, she came to London in 1785, and procured an engage- ment at Drury Lane, where was then congregated one of the most brilliant theatrical companies the world has ever seen. Dorothy Jordan made her first curtsey to a London audience on the 18th of October, 1785, in the character of P^^<7?/, in "The Country Girl." " She came to town," says Mrs. Inclibald, in her generous criticism, " with no report in her favour to elevate her above a very moderate salary, or to attract more than a very moderate house when she appeared. But here moderation'stopped. She at once displayed such consummate art, with such bewitching nature, such excellent sense, and such * Mr. Cornelius Swan, the great York critic of the day, used to Bay that he had " discovered" Mrs. Jordan. Tate Wilkinson gives an amusing picture of him sitting by the actress's bedside with a bad cold, and Mrs. Jordan's red cloak wrapped around him whilst he gave her lessons in theatrical matters. DOROTHY JORDAN. 305 innocent simplicity, that her auditors were bound- less in their plaudits, and so warm in their praises when they left the theatre that their friends at home would not give credit to tlie extent of their eulogiums." Viola, in " Twelfth Night," was her next charac- ter, then Imogen ; but neither pleased the audience as well as did Peggy. Mrs. Jordan had the rare good sense to keep to jDarts which suited her, so that for the future she wisely confined herself to the study of comedy alone. Her forte was comedy — laughing, exuberant comedy — and in such parts no actress ever excelled her. " In male attke," says one of her critics, " no actress can be named in competition with her but Mrs. WoiUugton, and slie was n.s superior to Mrs. Wofiington in voice as Wofhiigton was to her in beauty. She sang so sweetly — with such distinct articulation, and such enchanting melody — that her introduced airs, always appropriate to the occasion, were often called for tlu-ee times." Mrs. Abingdon was one of the queens of Drury Lane at the time. She was not a favourite with her sister actresses, who secretly despised her ; Kitty Clive especially signahsing her as a mark for her pungent sarcasm. I\trs. Abingdon affected the society of ladies of quality, and was never so happy as when a duchess permitted her to call her VOL. I. X 306 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. by her Christian name. What gall and wormwood it must have been to her to see the throne of coraedy, which she had held so long, usurped by Dorothy Jordan, who was merely a raw young Irish actress-of-all-work from the York circuit — a girl who dressed carelessly, moved and sang as tlie whim prompted her, thought nothing of stage traditions, and, in short, was as completely the incarnation of natural charm as Mrs. Abingdon was of artificial. All her life Mrs. Jordan was living, as it is euphemistically called, " under protection." ller protector, soon after she came to London, was a Mr. Ford, who was the father of three of her children. It is said that but for the interference of his fixmily this gentleman would have married her ; but upon this head we have no very authentic particulars. Mrs. Jordan's position as a comedy actress being now fully established, she accepted a provincial engagement, visiting Glasgow, Edin- burgh, York, Leeds, and Chester. In all the places where she had formerly acted, the enthusiastic reception she now met with fully compensated for any coldness her country audiences may have hitherto shown. When at Chester, Mrs. Jordan, hearing that a poor widow, with three young children, was imprisoned for a small debt, with expenses, amounting to 8/., paid the amount, and DOROTHY JORDAN. 307 procured the debtor's release. The same evening, whilst taking shelter from the rain, under ' a porch in the street, she was surprised by the appearance of the woman with her children, kneeling before her, to thank her for her kindness. The scene strongly affected her ; and not less so a Methodist preacher, who had taken shelter under the same porch, who stretched forth his hand to Mrs. Jordan, saying :— " Would to the Lord the world were all like thee !" "No," she said, retreating a little, "I wont shake hands with you." " Why ?" was the amazed query. " Because you are a Mctliodist preacher," she replied ; " and when you know who I am you will send me to the devil." " The Lord forbid !" he exclaimed. *' I am, as you say, a preacher of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, who tells us to clothe the naked, feed the hungry, and relieve the distressed ; and do you think I can behold a sister fulfil the commands of my great Master, without feeling that spiritual attach- ment which leads me to break through worldly customs, and offer you the hand of fellowship and brotherly love ?" *' Well !" she exclaimed i'mpulsively, " you are a good old soul, I daresay; but I don't like fanatics, ' X 2 308 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. and you'll not like me when I tell you wliat I am." " I hope I shall," was the reply. " Well, then, I am a player." The preacher sighed. " Yes," she continued, " I am a player, and you must have heard of me. My name is Mrs. Jordan." After a short pause, the preacher, extending his hand, said : — "The Lord bless thee, whoever thou art ! His goodness is inillmited. He has bestowed u[)on tlico a large portion of TTis Spirit ; and, as to tliy calling, if thy soul upbraid thee not, the Lord for- bid that I should." Mrs. Jordan accepted the good man's hand, and walked some little distance with him, when he parted from her, saying : — " Fare thee well, sister. I know not what the prmciples of people of thy calling may be ; thou art the first of them I ever conversed with ; but if their benevolent practices be equal to thine, I hope and trust at the great day that the Almighty will say to each, ' Thy sins be forgiven thee !' " For the next few years we find Mrs. Jordan acting at Drury Lane constantly, where she had for her associates, Mrs. Siddons and Miss Elizabeth Farren. Mrs. Jordan and Miss Farren, although both mistresses of comedy, DOROTHY JORDAN. 'S09 never became rivals. Miss Farren's comedy was of the essentially aristocratic type ; Mrs. Jordan's, outrageously bustling and exuberant. There were some captious critics who infinitely preferred Mrs. Jordan's Lady Teazle to that of Miss Farren. The latter was exclusively the fine lady, whilst Mrs. Jordan gave those little touches of rusticity, considered by some as necessary to mark the country education of the lively heroine. Her professional career chronicles a- long list of provincial and metropolitan successes, and during the twenty-eight years that she was before the public, she was universally admitted to be the most brilliant comic genius of her day. Sir Josluia lleynolds Avent to one of her benefits — about t])e time when Mrs. Siddons went to tea with Dr. Johnson in Bolt Court, and found he had not a chair for her to sit on — when she played Ilypolita, in " She Would and She Would Not," and Mrs. Brady, in "The Irish Widow;" but he did not paint her portrait, although we find from his visiting-book that she used to come to his studio. Ronmey jiainted a fascinating half-length of her as " The Country Girl," a portrait which is one of the happiest efforts of his genius. The expression is bewitch mg, quite as much so as that of any of liis Lady Hamilton s. But it would not have been Dorothy Jordan's likeness had it been other than 310 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. bewitching; for there was an irresistible joyousness about her, quite independentof any regular beauty of feature. And now we raise the curtain upon her private life. In the year 1790 she made the acquaintance of the Duke of Clarence ; an association which at first somewhat injured her popularity. She was at this time playing at Covent Garden, with a salary of 30/. a week ; which the manager was beginning to grumble about paying, as the public prints had bcgmi to deliver strictures ii[)on her conduct, and also charged her with remissness in the discharge of her professional duties. The public is very quick to resent any discourtesy upon the part of Her Majesty's servants, as Mrs. Jordan soon discovered to her cost. On one occasion the audience received her with manifest marks of displeasure. The brilliant actress, however, was not daunted, and advancing to the footlights, she thus addressed them : — " Ladies and gentlemen, — I should conceive my- self utterly unworthy of your favour, if the slightest mark of public disapprobation did not affect me sensibly. Since I have had the honour and the happiness to strive here to please you, it has been my constant endeavour, by miremitting assiduity, to merit your approbation. I beg to assure you, DOROTHY JORDAN. 311 upon my honour, that I have never absented myself one minute from the duties of my profes- sion but from real indisposition ; thus having invariably acted, I do consider myself under the public protection." It was just at this time she consented to put herself under the protection of the Duke of Cla- rence, he allowing her 1000/. a year. The King thouglit it too mncli, and suggested 500/. Mrs. Jordan's only answer to tlie proposition was a pertinent reply, quite characteristic of the lively actress. In the previous March of that year Mrs. Jordan played Coolia, in the "Greek Slave," for her benefit. Ca>Ha is the mistress to a king's son, and tiiis, coupled with a prophetic allusion in tlie modern epilogue to a future condition in her lifj, which was not then in the remotest degree contem- plated, is noted by Mr. Boaden, in his Memoirs, as a coincidence. Mrs. Jordan was faithful to her Koyal lover, and an excellent mother to his ten children. Their domestic harmony was proverbial, and continued uninterrupted for the twenty-one years that they lived together. The true reason of their separation has never transpired ; but the fatal faitldesslcss of the Georges is too notorious to leave any doubt but that it proceeded from caprice or State reasons. 312 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. The separation took place in 1811, and the unexpected manner in which the news reached Mrs. Jordan suggests a parallel between her case and that of the ill-fated " Perdita." She was acting at Cheltenham one night, when she received a letter informing her that lier connexion witli the Duke of Clarence must cease, and desiring her to meet him at Maidenhead the next day. With much difficulty she struggled through her pai't that evening, and the next day had an interview with the Duke. What passed is not known, save that the unhappy woman, who was sincerely attached to the lloyal scoundrel, was told that she was henceforth to be unto him as a stranger. To a confidential friend she addressed the following letter upon the subject : — " My dear Sir, — I received yours, and its inclosure, safe this morning. My mind is begin- ning to feel somewhat reconciled to the shock and surprise it has lately received ; for could you or the world believe that we never had, for twenty years, the semblance of a quarrel ? But this is so well known in our domestic circle, that the astonishment is the greater ! Money, money, my good friend, or the want of it, has, I am convinced, made him at this moment the most wretched of men ; but having done wrong, he does not like to DOROTHY JORDAN. 313 retract. But with all his excellent qualities, his domestic virtues, and his love for his lovely chil- dren, what must he not at this moment suffer ! His distresses should have been relieved before ; but this is cntre nous. " All his letters are full of the most unqualified praise of my conduct ; and it is the most heartfelt blessing to know that, to the best of my power, I have endeavoured to deserve it. I have received the greatest kindness and attention from the 11 1, and every branch of the Royal family, who, in the most unreserved terms, deplore this melancholy business. The whole correspondence is before the K 1 ; and, I am proud to add, tliat u)y p.'ist and present conduct lias secured mo a friend, who declares he never will forsake me, 'My forbearance,' he says, 'is beyond what he could have imagined.' But what will not a woman do, who is firmly and sincerely attached '? Had he left me to starve I never would have uttered a word to his disadvantage. I inclose you two other letters ; and in a day or two you shall see more, the rest being in the hands of the 11 1. And now, my dear friend, do not hear the D. of C. unfairly abused. He has done wrong, and he is suffering for it. But as far as he has left it m his own power, he is doing everything kind and noble, even to the distressing himself I thank you 314 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. sincerely for the friendly caution at the end of your letter, though I trust there will be no occa- sion for it ; but it was kind and friendly, and as such I shall ever esteem it. " I remain, dear Sir, " Yours sincerely, "Dora Jordan." From a pecuniary point of view, Mrs. Jordan's future was well provided for. She was to receive, for the maintenance of the Duke's four daughters, and a house and carriage for their use, 2100/. ; for her own use, 1500/. per annum; and, to enable her to make provision for her married daugliters, the children of her former connexion with Mr. Ford, 800/. per annum, making altogether 4400/. It was also stipulated that in the event of Mrs. Jordan's returning to her former profession, the Duke's four daugliters were to be removed from her guardianship, and their allowance to revert to their father. This arrangement was put in force a few months later, when Mrs. Jordan returned to the stage. The mental suffering she endured ren- dered it indispensable that she should keep her brain well occupied. But grief had so altered the once brilliant actress, that she met with but little success in the arena of her former triumphs. Of her, Hazlitt says : — DOROTHY JORDAN. 315 " Mrs. Jordan's excellences were all natural to her. It was not as an actress, but as herself, that she charmed every one. Nature had formed her in her most prodigal humour ; and when Nature is in the humour to make a woman all that is de- lightful, she does it most effectually. Her face, her tones, her manner were irresistible. Her smile had the effect of sunshine, and her laugli did one good to hear it. Her voice was eloquence itself ; it seemed as if her heart were always at her mouth. She was all gaiety, openness, and good-nature. She rioted in her fine animal spirits, and gave more pleasure than any other actress, because she had the greatest spirit of enjoyment in herself" When the Duke of Clarence became William IV. he raised his eldest son by Mrs. Jordan to the dignity of Earl of Munster, his other children havuig due precedence. The scene changes. In a gloomy, miserable apartment, in a lodging-house at St, Cloud, a woman lies dying. Everything bespeaks, if not utter destitution, at least very straitened circum- stances upon the part of the occupants of the chamber. With the close of the June evening the bright, loving spbit of Dorothy Jordan takes its flight to Him who proudly numbered the Mag- dalen amongst His friends. 316 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. Dur'mcr her residence in St. Cloud, Mrs. Jordan had passed under the name of Mrs. Johnson, or, as some say, Mrs. James. There is a dispute as to the exact date of her death, some affirming that it took place on July the 3rd, 181G, instead of in June. There were also those who asserted that they had seen her in London later than her alleged death in June, and concerning this Boaden, the actor, tells the following story : — " I was taking," he says, " a very usual walk before dinner, and I stopped at a bookseller's window on the left side of Piccadilly, to look at an embellishment to some new publication tliat struck my eye. On a sudden a lady stood by my side, who had stopped with a similar impulse ; to my conviction it was Mrs. Jordan. As she did not speak, but dropped a long white veil immediately over her face, I concluded that she did not wish to be recognised, and therefore, however I should have wished an explanation of what so surprised me, I yielded to her pleasure upon the occasion, grounded, I had no doubt, upon sufficient reason. When I returned to my own house at dinner time, I men- tioned the circumstance at table, and the way in which it struck me is yet remembered in the family. I used on the occasion the strong lan- guage of Macbeth, ' If I stand here, I saw her.' It was but very recently I heard for the first time DOROTHY JORDAN. 317 that one of lier daugliters, Mrs. Alsop, had, to her entire conviction, met her mother in the Strand after the rejDort of her death ; that the reahty or tlie fancy threw her into fits at the time, and that to her own death she believed that she had not been deceived." Of Mrs. Jordan's amiable and generous disposi- tion as a woman there can be but one opinion, and tliat a fixvourable one. Of her abilities as an actress all her contemporaries speak in terms of delight and admu'ation, and the neglectful and heartless way in which she was left to die, in com- parative poverty and loneliness, is but an additional commentary upon the text, " Put not your trust m l)i''mcoH." ELIZABETH FARIIEN. (COUNTESS OF DERBY.) Born a.d. 1759. Died a.d. 1829. MONGST the great names which liave Im- parted kistre and dionity to the comic drama, that of Farren stands unrivalled. Nineteen years ago died the aged William Farren, who for upwards of half a century delighted the comedy-loving playgoers of his time. His father was also an actor, and the original Careless, in Sheridan's " School for Scandal." The manner and delivery of both these comedians are now quoted as precedents. The easy, natural, and well-bred style in which they acted the parts of fine gentlemen has often been commented upon. Sir Peter Teazle found an admirable exponent in William Farren the elder, a part which at present finds its best interpreter in the William Fan-en of our own day. His performance of this character during the successful revival of "The School for Scandal" at the Vaudeville Theatre, in 1873, will long be remembered as an intellectual ELIZABETH FABREN. 319 treat and a liiglily-finislied piece of artistic comedy. Between this family of Farrens and the subject of the present memoir it is not easy to trace a relationship, if any. But in considering the history of the British stage — so rich in genealogies — histrionic talent, and that in an especial line too, is so often found to be hereditary, that it is difficult to come to the conclusion that some of the greatest male and female comedians, as they have the same name, do not spring from the same common stock. No more distinguished daughter of Thalia ever trod the boards of a theatre than Elizabeth Farren. Nature combined "vvith Art to shower upon her every good gi't wliicli could tend to insure and to enhance her success. She was one of the hest representatives of the fine lady that has ever appeared upon the stage. In appearance she was tall, and her bearing aristocratic ; rather thin, but with a form every gesture of which was eloquent of grace and dignity. Her face was expressive, her features regular, and her voice, although very powerful, was mellow and feminine. She had received a good education, her pronunciation having been carefully attended to. Her words were always perfectly articulate, and her manner of speaking was quite free from all approach to affectation, provinciahsm, or vulgarity. Tate Wil- 320 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. kinson, tlian whom there was no one more capable of giving an opinion, speaks enthusiastically about Miss Farren. *' Having so often mentioned Mrs. Woffington," he says, *'I naturally apprehend that many persons who have not had the pleasure of seeing her would like a short description of that celebrated actress ; and having related so many particulars of that lady, and pronounced authoritatively how much I was thought a strong caricature of her stage manner, it might be judged that I could give some ideas as to a similitude, whicli indeed I can, with the strongest traits, and at the same time compliment the present age on their possessing an actress in a first polished character in the arch and attractive Miss Farren. Such parts as Lady Townly, Maria, Millamant, &c., now represented by her, were formerly thought Mrs. Woffington's best line of acting. Miss Farren is to a certainty very like Mrs. Woffington in some points, and enchantingly superior in others. Miss Farren, as to every intrinsic quality, may bid the world look on, scrutinise, and envy ; while on the opposite side we are compelled to place comparatively Mrs. Woffington (who also had her share of praise- worthy quahties), yet a veil will be sometimes necessary to shade the frailties too often prevalent over the human disposition. ELIZABETH FARREN. 321 " A fasliion having very much obtained of late years of giving what are called scales of merit of different theatrical performers, I have been induced to form a scale, in which I have weighed the respective merits of Mrs. Woffington and Miss Farren, and which I trust Avill be looked on by candid judges as a fair and impartial statement of the personal qualifications of the two ornaments of the theatre, whom it places in a comparative point of view. SCALE OF MERIT. ** Their complexion and features much alike. Miss Farren will be more like ten years hence, before wlilcli time T ho|)0 she will bo distinguiHlied by some otlicr a[)))cllation. ]\Ii!,s. AVomNOTON. Miss Faiirhn. Mrs. Woffington was tall .... So is Miss Farren. Mrs. Woffington was beautiful . . So is Miss Farren. Mrs. Woffington ■^\ as elegant . . So is Miss Farren. Mrs. Woffington was well-bred . . So is Miss Farren. Mrs. Woffington had wit .... So has Miss Farren. Mrs. Woffington had a harsh, ) IMiss Farren's nuisical broken, and discordant voice . . ) and bewitching. Mrs. Woffington could be rude and i -.f ^t, ° { Miss 1* arren, never. vulgar ) " So undoubtedly Miss Farren seizes the wreath of Fame with security, as she adds to her per- fections in the scale of merit, virtue, modesty, reverence to a parent, and every other endearing quality ; therefore, with propriety and for the VOL. I. Y 2522 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. credit of the drama, let me hurl my cap and cry — • ' ■...:; Long live THE FAKREN! ^ ,j^ So my dear, agreeable Miss Farren, for the present adieu."* In the annals of the stnge there is scarcely a more romantic history than that of " Lizzy Farren." Her father was a surgeon in Cork, and her mother the daughter of a brewer in Liverpool. Of idle and dissolute habits, Mr. Farren, through his imprudence and love of drink, plunged his family into debt and difliculties. Tliey were reduced to dire straits, and at the solicitation of his wife they all left Cork, and went to live in Liverpool, in the hope that Mrs. Farren's relatives might afford them some aid. The improvident Irish- man and his family do not seem to have met with a very warm reception from tlieir English relations, and, at this juncture, having become acquainted with some persons connected with the theatre in Liverpool, Mrs. Farren decided upon trying her fortune as an actress. She obtained several pro- vincial and London engagements, but her talents do not seem ever to have soared beyond mediocrity ; nevertheless, she was so far successful that she determined to bring up her three daughters to the same profession. * Tate Wilkinson's " Memoirs," vol. i. pp. 105-7. ELIZABETH FABBEN. 323 Indeed, the whole Farren family seem to have become stage-struck about this time. Mr. Farren, although so idle and dissipated, was possessed of a fair sliare of histrionic ability ; and he too essayed to try his fortune on the boards. In the winter of 1769 he got together a strolling company, and taking with him his little daughter " Lizzy," set out for a tour through some of the provincial towns. On Christmas Eve, 17 GO, they reached the town of Salisbury. " They had a shabby-genteel air about them ; looked hungry and happy ; and one or two wore one hand in the pocket, upon an economising principle in reference to gloves." They entered the town with as much state as they could assume, preceded by the drummer, who, with his noisy instrument, loudly announced the advent of the troupe. The procession was closed by a fine, gentleman-like man, holding by the hand a pretty, gracefid little girl. He was the ex-surgeon of Cork, and the little girl was his pet daughter, Lizzy Farren, the future Countess of Derby. The Mayor of Salisbury chanced, upon this particular day, not to have been in an especially amiable frame of mind. Moreover, he had a very vivid vsense of the dignity which hedged round his civic oJQRce ; and hurled his magisterial wrath at the manager for daring to bring his strolling Y 2 324 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. players into the town without first requesting permission to do so. The manager protested that he was then, in company with his players, on his way to request the Mayor's license to act in Salisbury. But it was all in vain ; the wrath of the groat man had been roused ; the vagabond actors had entered the borough without permis- sion, and the unlucky manager was condemned to pass his Christmas in durance vile, in the lock-up. The Mayor had been playing at single-stick with a couple of strangers wlien the noise of the drum liad arnusod lilm, and disturbed tlio game. They looked on gravely, and listened to the altercation between the irascible Mayor and the manager, but a shrewd observer might have no- ticed that a glance of intelligence passed between the disciples of the single-stick and those of the sock and buskin. . " Permission I will never give," said his worship ; ** we are a godly people here, and have no taste for rascal players. As His Majesty's representa- tive, I am bound to encourage no amusements that are not respectable." " But our young king," interrupted Mr. Farren, " is himself a great patron of the theatre." This was worse than a heavy blow at single- stick ; and the Mayor was the more wroth as he had no argument ready to meet it. After looking ELIZABETH FABBEN. 325 angry for a moment, a bright thought struck him. " Ay, ay, sh ! you will not, I hope, teach a Mayor either fact or duty. We know, sir, what the Imig (God bless him!) patronises. His Majesty does not pati'onise strollers. He goes regularly to an established church, sir, and to an established theatre ; and so, sir, I, as Mayor, support only estabhshments. Good heavens ! What would be- come of the throne and the altar if a Mayor of Sarum were to do otherwise. "^^' As Mr. Farren did not well know, he could not very readily tell ; and as he stood there mute, the Mayor continued to pour down upon the player and jiis vocation a shower of oblocpiy. At every allusion which he made to his predilection for amusements that were respectable and instructive, the single-stick players drew themselves up, cried Hea?' ! hear ! and looked down upon the actors with an air of burlesque contemj^tt. The actors, men and women, returned the look with a burst of uncontrollable laughter. The Mayor took this for deliberate insult, aimed at himself and at what he chose to patronise. His proteges looked the more proud and became louder than ever hi their self-applauding Hear I hear ! The players * YiAe Dr. Doran's " Kuiglits and their Days." 326 ILLUSTRIOUS IBISHWOMEN. the while shrieked with laughter. Even Mr. Farren and Lizzy could not refrain from risibility, for the single-stick players were actually members of the company, who had preceded the main body of the performers.' One A^as Mr. Frederick Fitz- montague, who was great in Ilamlet ; the other was the ruffian in melodramas and the clOwn in pantomimes, and as he did a little private business of his own, by accepting an engagement from a religious society during the dull season of the year, to preach on the highways against theatricals, Mr. Osmond Brontere was usually known by the cognomen of " Missionary Jack." So the manager was taken off to the lock-up, and Httle Lizzy, weeping bitterly, was taken charge of by some inembers of the company. It was raining heavily at the time, but during the night it ceased, and so hard a frost set in that Salisbury looked as though built upon a sheet of ice. In the market-place lived a respectable upholsterer of the name of Buri-oughs, and early on the Christmas morning a boy stood at the door of the shop, watching a little girl who cautiously and stealthily advanced across the slippery ground. The girl was Lizzy Farren, who was carrying a bowl of boiling milk -her own scanty breakfast — to her father, locked up in the iron cage. She advanced so slowly that the milk ran the risk of ELIZABETH FAEBEN. 327 being frozen before reaching its destination. Young Burro uglis watched her, and, seeing her fear of falhng, offered to cany the bowl, but she refused to allow any one but herself to carry her father's breakfast to linn on such a morning. The lad had ah'eady made friends with some of the actors, so he knew all about Lizzy, and of her aifection for her erratic sire, so he did not j^ress the offer. He accompanied her to the iron cage, through the bars of which they had the satisfaction of seeing the captive manager drink the warm milk. ' Lizzy and her cavaher remained with the prisoner, who looked forward to passmg his Christ- mas Day m tliat cheerless abode, when a town constable .'ij)pcaro(l, a.ccoinpaniod by a clerical gentleman, the former being empowered to give liberty to the ca])tivo. The constable told the manager that his liberation was due to the inter- cession of the Reverend Mr. Snodgrass, who had that morning arrived in Salisbury. Little Lizzy looked attentively at the pseudo-clerical dignitary, and, much to her amazement, recognised him to be none other than Mr. Osmond Brontere, alias Mis- sionary Jack, alias the Reverend Mr. Snodgrass. " Oh, Mr. Brontere !" she exclaimed ui dehght, and soon as they were safely out of hearing of the constable, " how did you ever manage it ?" " Well," said the enterprismg actor, with a 328 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. laugh, " I called uj)on his worship to inquire what Christmas charities niiglit be acceptable ; and if there were any prisoners whom my humble means might liberate. He named your father, and the company have paid what was necessary. His worship was not inexorable, particularly as I incidentally told him His Majesty patronised the other day an itinerant company at Datchet. And as for how I did it ! I rather think I am irresis- tible in the dress in which poor Will Havard, only two years ago, played Old Adam. A little inge- nuity, as you see, has made it look very like a rector's costume ; and besides," concluded Mis- sionary Jack, " I sometimes tliink that Nature intended me for the Church." Lizzy Farren danced and sang prettily, and her father found her very useful to send her on to dance and sing between the acts. For three years she was a member of this strolling company, and her name .even appears in some old provincial play- bills quoted by Tate Wilkinson. Another Christ- mas Eve had come, and Lizzy — who had now lost her father — was with the strolling players at Wakefield. They were going to give a grand Christmas pantomime, called " Old Mother Red- cap," in which would appear " The Young Queen of Columbines," "Miss Elizabeth Farren." All the young bachelors of the town were besieging ELIZABETH FAB.BEN. 329 the box-office, and one in particular — a bright- looking articled clerk, read the playbill attentively. At this juncture, who should step forth on her way home from rehearsal, but the Queen of Columbines. She was a pretty, fairy -looking girl of just fifteen, and the susceptible hearts of the male youth of Wakefield, who were congregated at the.box-office, were not proof against her fascinations. It had been freezing hard all day, and as the youthful actress proceeded down the street she had many an offer made her of an arm to help her over the slippery pavement. In a courteous and dignified manner she refused all advances, and succeeded in getting rid of all her suitors, save one, who persisted in following licr. Seeing the girl was sciioualy annoyed, the lawyer's cleric stepped forward without any ceremony, took the young lady's arm in his, and constituted himself her champion. Her persecutors sneaked away ; then the Knight and the Lady looked into each other's face. It would bo dilficult to say which was the more surprised, Lizzy Farren to see young Burroughs, who had succoured her upon that frosty Christmas morning when she carried the warm milk to her father, or the incipient lawyer to see in the pretty young actress before him the forlorn little girl who gave up her meagre breakfast to her captive sire. " The young Queen of Columbines" was enthu- 330 ILLUSTRIOUS IlilSHWOMEN. siastically received upon her first appearance upon the stage at Wakefield. In company with an ecstatic stage-struck amateur, young Burroughs went to see the performance. "What a treasure," said the amateur, "would this girl be in Liver- pool." The faithful Burroughs then and there offered to accept an engagement for Lizzy, and hearing that Younger, the manager of the Liver- pool theatre, was at a neighbouring tavern, he left the' theatre intent upon pleading Lizzy's cause with the great man. ' " I wonder," said tlio jnanagcr, " if your young fViend is the child of the Cork • surgeon, who married the daughter of Wright, the Liverpool brewer ; if so, she's clever. Besides, why " " Why she'll make your fortune !" exclaimed the la'Wyer's clerk. " She is the granddaughter of your Liverpool brewer, sings like a nightingale, aind is worth five pounds a week to you at least. Come and hear her." Younger went to hear her, and was more than charmed with her singing, dancing, and general appearance. The result was that before she left the theatre that night she was engaged by the Liverpool manager at the munificent salary of two pounds ten shillings per week, and to find her own satin shoes and stockings. It was upon this night that Lizzy Farren and ELIZABETH FAItBEN. 331 her friend Mr, Burroughs uttered the prophetic speeches — " Mr. Burroughs," said the girl gratefully to the lawyer's clerk as he escorted her and her mother home, "this is the second Christmas you have made happy for us. I hope you may Hve to be Lord Chief Justice. " " Thank you, Lizzy," he replied ; " that is about as likely as that LiverjDool will make of the Wake- field Columbine a Countess. " Lizzy Farren speedily became a favourite with her Liverpool audience. Her relationship to one of its chief citizens, combined with the utmost decorum and rigid propriety of demeanour, en- liMUccd l)or social jis well as licr public success ; and, altbougli much sought after, not the faintest breath of scandal ever sullied her laii- fame. During the season she remained with Younger in Liverpool, her chief character was Rosetta, in " Love ill a Village," and she also sang and danced between the acts. About Christmas time the manager took his troupe upon a provmcial tour, which was eminently successful, for Lizzy Farren was the "star" of the company, and having made the same circuit before, she was warmly wel- comed. They elected to spend the Christmas week at Chester, and whilst there occurred one of the 332 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. many romantic incidents of Lizzy Farren's curious and romantic life. The young actress was about to take her first benefit, and as it was to take place on Twelfth Night, Shakspeare's play of the same name was selected for representation, Lizzy playing the ])art of Viola. It was then the custom for the actor or actress to wait upon people and request their presence upon the occasion. Tate Wilkinson did his best to put down the practice, as being dero- gatory to the dignity of the profession, but it continued to be done long after his time.* In accordance with this usage, Lizzy Farren went from house to house soliciting patronage for her benefit ; and at length, wearied and disappointed with her want of success, she' was wending her way towards her lodgings, when a horseman rode up. The gii-1 presented her playbills, at the same time soliciting half-a-crown, when, much to her delight, she recognised the equestrian to be Mr. Burroughs. "Lizzy," he exclaimed in delight, "you shall have such a house in Chester as the old town has not seen since the night when Garrick was here, and played Richard III. and Lord ChalJcstone." The young barrister kept his word, and the * The late Charles Dickens ridiculed this custom in many of hia works. ELIZABETH FABBEN. 333 tlieatre was crammed from floor to ceiling. The benefit was a pecuniary success, and, for the third time in her Ufe, Lizzy Farren hailed the budding counsellor as her " good Christmas angel." This happened in 177 G, and after a protracted tour, Younger brought back his company to Liver- pool. Lizzy Farren was now a recognised provin- cial stage queen ; and the manager, who was sincerely anxious for her advancement, generously advised her to go to London, altliougli it Avas acting against his own interests for her to do so. He said she was only wastmg her time in the country, and confidently predicted a brilliant future for her. She was not quite eighteen at the time. So Miss Elizabotli Farren — as all theatrical chronicles respectfully call her from this time forth — came to London, the goal of all brain-workers. This was in 1777. She had very httle money, but she had genius, youth, good looks, and two letters of warm recommendation to Cclman, the manager of the ITaymjirkct. One letter was from Mr. Burroughs, the other from Younger, who ever treated her with the most fatherly solicitude. Colman at once gave her an engagement, and on the 9th of June, 1777, Miss Farren made her first appearance upon the London stage as Miss ILird- casile, in Oliver Goldsmith's Comedy of " She Stoops to Conquer." It was not a part quite 334 ILLUSTRIOUS lEISHWOMEN. suited to display the young actress's peculiar powers, being merely a character requiring a cer- tain amount of archness and considerable versatility. The refined grace and easy high-breeding, which were the characteristics of Miss Farren's acting, have no place in the conception, which consequently allowed no fair scope for her histrionic gifts. She does not seem to have made any very great impres- sion upon her audience ; for the Dramatic Censor — which is commonly as ambiguous as the utterances of the Delphic Oracle — says of her : — , . " When tliis young lady lias coiKpicrod dif- fidence and acquired more experience; when she learns to tread the stage with more self-possession ; to modulate her tones ; to coirect in spirit, and vary her action, and to give a proper utterance to her feelings by a suitable expression of voice and countenance ; in our opinion slie will be a most valuable acquisition to our London theatres." Miss Farren was not discouraofed. She worked hard, and she persevered,, and when she played her favourite character of Rosetta, in " Love in. a Village," the tide of popular opinion began to sot in her favour. Colman was so pleased that he chose her as the original Rosina, in the " Spanish Barber," a play which has subsequently become better known as the opera of " The Barber of Seville." We may remark, en passant, that the ELIZABETH FAllREN. , 335 prudish Colman omitted tlie most comic scene-r— that wherein the Count is disguised as a drunken trooper. ■ As Rosina, Miss Farren scored ,no suc- cess, and does not seem to have added much to her reputation as an actress by ]ier rendering of it. This is all the more contradictory, as the bills show that she played it for nineteen consecutive nights, and also selected it for lier benefit. , , , But at length the opportunity came, when she fulfilled tlie expectations of her faitliful friend. Younger, the manager of the Liverpool theatre. On the 21st of August, 1778, she played Lady Townly, in "The Provoked Husband," and on the 2nd of September following. Lady Fanciful, in ''The Provoked Wife." The town, saw and apj^reciatod her in her true line. She was declared the reigning queen of comedy, and was unanimously elected to that throne which had been so ably filled by Margaret Woffington. Miss Farren's theatrical reputation was no\v assured. Managers vied with each other in trying to secure her services. She left the Hayrnar^^t in October, 1778, and during the season of 1778-79 we find her — by some curious arrangement — play- ing, on alternate nights, at Covent Garden and Drury Lane. She made her first appearance at the latter theatre in the character of Charlotte Rusporl, in " The West Indian." This representa- 336 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. tion was no less famous for tlie success of the young actress, who played the chief character, than for the galaxy of beauty which appeared in it. The four most beautiful women in London — all under twenty — were to be then seen on the stage at Drury Lane. There was tlio vain and fascinating l^erdita (Mrs. Mary Ilobinson), the beautiful and statuesque Miss Walpole, the irre- pressible Mrs. John Kemble, and Miss Elizabeth Farren. Urged thereto by the various managers. Miss Farren essayed tragedy ; but " the robes of Mel- pomene" never sat naturally upon her. Her extreme popularity induced the managers to request her to undertake such parts ; however, upon seeing how utterly opposed they were to her style of acting, they wisely refrained from soliciting any more exhibitions of the kind. She was now the leading comedy actress at Drury Lane, and after the year 1779 never acted in any other but this great national tlieatre, save for a few nights at Leeds and York in 1787-89, and a brief visit slicpaid to l)iiljlin,ir4 i'Xt.iiit ; h'l I. tat llir r.||.»w iii^' \iiL»tiui nti.Mt. 0«|iii«l t|.>|ii a f^ i.tji .,| alt ill<>li It) v%M|.,t.. f, IxLiiil.^' ELIZABETH FABBEN. 337 probably the only information to be had upon the subject : — " Miss Farren, having accomplished her engage- ment with our manager, has sailed for England, preparatoiy to her wmter engagement m London. Fame and fortune have most conspicuously accom- panied this celebrated actress on her trip to this country. To use a mercantile phrase, the nett proceeds of her voyage to Ireland exceeded 1800/."* In 1780, Miss Farren found a character admi- rably suited to her, in Cecilia, in Miss Lee's " Chapter of Accidents." The name was an appro- priate one in every sense of the word, so many a,cci(loiil8 occurred to I'otard its roprcsontation. Tlic authoress first offered it to Harris, of Co vent Garden, who treated her very badly about it. He said he woidd accept it on condition that she would make certain alterations ; she did so, and he then backed out of his agreement. She then sent it anonymously to Colman, who recognised its merit, and accepted it at once. But this Harris was an unprincipled man in every sense of the word, and Miss Lee was very fortunate to have got safely out of his clutches. The beautiful * This notice is in the possession of Mr. William Fan-en, Vaude- ville Theatre, to whose courtesy I am indebted for permission to copy it.— E. 0. B. VOL. I. Z 838 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. — and stuttering — Mrs. Inchbald was not quite so fortunate ; for Harris made some gallant advances to her, from which she I'escued herself by tugging stoutly at his hair. When relating the assault she exclaimed : " If he had w-w-w-worn a w-w-wig, I w-w-was a ni-rn-ined w-woman." Sheridan was the manager of Drury Lane at this time ; and from some cause or other the treasury department was not in a very flourishing condition. This led to annoyances between the manager and the performers, and resulted in some of them going elsewhere. Mrs. Abingdon was one of the first to lead the exodus from Drury Lane. She and Sheridan quarrelled irreconcilably ; but the mana- ger was very wary, and it is ten chances to one but that he purposely picked a quarrel with her, in order to induce her to quit the theatre, and leave the field of comedy clear for the new star. Miss Elizabeth Farren. The latter must have been gratified by her rival's removal, for she now stood alone — the recognised first comedy actress of the company of the great national theatre. Moreover, it permanently relieved her from the necessity of playing utility parts, uncongenial to her attri- butes. Mrs. Abingdon was one of the best Lady Teazles that ever trod the stage ; yet, immediately after her secession from Drury Lane, when Miss Farren ELIZABETH FAEBEN. 339 played the same character, she was pronounced ahnost superior to her. The part had been origi- nally created by Mrs. Abingdon, who always — and justly — considered it her best character. But if she played it well. Miss Farren played it better ; and during the earlier part of the season 1782-83, the announcement of the part of Lady Teazle, by Miss Farren, never failed to draw a crowded house. But, later in the season, comedy was eclipsed by tragedy, for Sarah Siddons made her first appearance at Drury Lane in the character of Isabella, in " The Fatal Marriage." From that time forth, until her retirement thirty years after- ward.s, slic occupied the tragic throne without a rival. " She was, unquestionably, tlve greatest tragic actress that ever trod the stage in any age or country. Such personal and mental qualities were never combined in another. But she lacked versatility, and should never have trespassed on the realms of Thalia." Miss Farren had now been for several seasons acknowledged as the first comedy actress on the stage. Her private worth was no less known and respected than her brilliant public career was admired. During the London seasons all the chief families of distinction vied with each other in showing her every attention. It cannot be sup- z 2 340 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. posed that so beautiful and attractive a woman was witliout many suitors ; but, despite the publi- city of her life, she was so guarded in her conduct that not one of them could boast of having been encouraged above the other. Charles James Fox may, perliaps, be excepted. He pursued her per- tinaciously, and she is said to have encouraged his attentions until she found they were liberal and anti-matrimonial. He was then at once dis- missed, and the Earl of Derby became Miss Farren's avowed admirer. She met this nobleman first at some private plays, which slie was invited to supervise, at the Duke of Richmond's town residence in Privy Gardens. In these peiform- ances the Earl of Derby, Lord Henry Fitzgerald, and the Honourable Mrs. Damer sustained the leading parts. The Earl of Derby was at this time married, but living separately from his wife. The cause of this arrangement it is now unneces- sary to conjecture. Suffice to say that such was the case ; and that it soon became whispered abroad that he and Miss Farren were conditionally engaged to each other, and that the marriage would take place as soon as circumstances per- mitted. Finally this engagement became publicly known ; but such was the rigid caution practised on both sides, that not a suspicion of scandal sullied the intimacy. Like Dean Swift and Stella, ELIZABETH FARE EN. 341 they never saw each other save in the presence of a thh'd pei-son. "These prospective arrangements," says a recent anonymous writer, "between enamoured ladies and gentlemen, depending on the life or death of an existing impediment or incumbrance, are by no means uncommon ; neither do the parties involved lose caste or estimation in the eyes of the world by being prepared for a possible contingency, should it. present itself. But is this precision quite in ac- cordance with high and pure principles of morality and reHgion ? A husband may not Hve with his wife, nor a wife with her husband, by mutual consent, without moral delinquency ; still they are legally and religiously joined until deatJi or the Divorce Court releases them. True, they may agree to hve apart on terms ; but be the motive of separation what it may, or the blame, if any, on one side or divided, it requires keen casuistry to determme that therefore A and C may lawfully arrange a future marriage, on the speculation that the intervening B will, some fine day, think proper to make a vacancy. This, viewed as a pure case of conscience, would form an interesting topic for the wisdom of the law lords, or the Consistorial Court, should either be able to find leisure for an abstract question." The foregoing is not a matter for us to attempt 312 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. to decide. Circumstances alter cases, and the i-espect and esteem in which Miss Farren was lield in private Hfe, is a pretty good guarantee of what the society of the period thought of the engage- ment. In every possible way her lover proved the sincerity and honourable nature of his attach- ment, a feeling which she fully returned. The fol- lowing hues, written by the Earl of Derby, show the estimation in which he held her : — TO MISS FAEREN, ON Umn I$]?JNG ONK DAY ABSENT FllOM CHUUC«. VVliilo ■woiiclcriug uagcla, wliilo tlioy looked IVom liigU, Obsorvcd thy absence, with a holy sigh, 'I'd thoiu a bright othercal Horaph Haiil — " Blame uot the coiiduct of th' exalted maid ; Where'er she goes, her steps can never stray ; Religion walks, companion of her way ; She goes with every virtuous thought impressed, Heaven on her face, and heaven within her breast." At this period, there was concentrated in Drury Lane an array of dramatic talent which has never, before nor since, been the monopoly of a single theatre. There were Mrs. Siddons, Miss Ehzabeth Farren, Mrs. Jordan, Miss Pope, Mrs. Crouch, Mrs. Ward, and Mrs. Wilson amongst the ladies, all of whom were Irish by one or both parents, save Mrs. Siddons and Mrs. Wilson. Amongst the men were, John Kemble, the two Palmers, Thomas King, the younger Bannister, Parsons, Suett, Moody and Dodd. In the present day, there are so many theatres in London, that the talent is ELIZABETH FAREEN. 343 scattered. At that time there were but two jDrincipal theatres, and even they, with the amount of histrionic wealth which could ever be brought to support a performance, the manager was very often on the verge of bankruptcy. Here and there, m our own day, we occasionally find the public press crying out against managers for vitia- ting the public taste by spectacular dramas ; whereas, the sin really hes at the door of the jDublic. Even with such a company as that just named, and under the classic sceptre of John Kemble, Shakspeare was laid upon the shelf, and, in desperation, a play was produced in which horses and a white elephant were the chief performers ! In 1784 Miss Farron acted Julia JIardy, in a play called " lleparation." It was written by a gunpowder manufacturer of the name of Andrews, who, however, mtroduced nothing inflammable into his many plays, for they all hung fire. On the I7tli of May, in the same year, she played in Drydcn's " Amphitryon," with John Kemblo; and on the 24th of the same month spoke the address at Mrs. Bellamy's benefit, which has been akeady referred to in the memoir of that actress. From 178G, until her retirement m April, 1797, Miss Ehzabeth Farren continued to act at Drury Lane. She must have gone through enormous mental and physical labour dui'ing each theatrical 344 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. season ; for the playbills show her never to have been absent from her post. She was a most con- scientious actress. She always rigidly adhered to the words of the author, and never spared either time or pains in trying fully to comprehend the author's conception of a character. Like Peg Woffington, she never refused to play for a benefit, and her urbanity and proverbially sweet disposi- tion endeared her to all connected with the theatre. But " chaste as ice, pure as snow ! Thou shalt not escape calumny !" was fulfilled even in the case of Miss Farren. It happened immediately after her marriage with the Earl of Derby, when a scurrilous pamphlet appeared, reflecting upon her womanly honour. It was,* however, successfully refuted, the only charge in this so-called " Life," that was established, being the poverty of her youth. The first original part worthy of her genius that Miss Farren created was that of Lady Emily Gay- love, in General Burgoyne's comedy of " The Heiress." The cast comprised all the strength of the company, save Mrs. Siddons. The ])lay ran for thirty nights, and was pronounced the best comedy since "The School for Scandal" Mrs. Siddons and Miss Farren seldom had an oppor- tunity of acting together. Their walks were so distinct, that it was very unusual for both to be ELIZABETH FABBEN. 345 suited properly in tlie same play. But in May, 1786, both actresses appeared together in "The Way to Keep Him," acted for the benefit of the Theatrical Fund. They also acted together for Kemble's benefit, as Belinda and Lady Restless, in " All in the Wrong." In 1787, and again in 1789, Miss Farren ac- cepted a short provincial engagement at Leeds and York during the race week. By command of the Prince of Wales, she played one night at the latter town, when the receipts were close on 200/., an enormous sum to have been taken, at that time, at any theatre out of London. Miss Farren did not often essay Shakspearian chara.ctcra. Tier Rosalind was universally com- mended, but she had so great an objection to what are technically called, in stage parlance, " breeches parts," that she at length ceased to appear in that character. In 1790 Kemble revived the "Tempest," altered by Dryden, and also with some interpola- tions of his own, for the rage for mutilating the immortal text was then in all its fury. Dryden had introduced an excrescence which he called Dorinda, and this fell to the lot of Miss Farren. To her credit be it spoken that it was her acting of this character — outrageous as was the introduction — which saved the play from being utterly con- demned. U6 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. In 1791* she took part in the last performance that was ever given at old Drury Lane. Whilst the new theatre was being built the company acted in the Opera House, in the Haymarket. Their first peifox'mance there was preceded by a prologue written by James Cobb, and called " Poor Old Drury. " It possessed considerable humour, and in it the actors are represented as speaking in their own proper persons. Unfortunately this prologue was considered so ephemeral that it never was printed, but the following is the traditional account of it ; — " Barrymore and Palmer began, and after lamenting the distresses of Wrighten, the prompter, gave a ludicrous description of the removal of the scenery from one house to the other. The ocean was washed away by a shower of rain, and the clouds were obliged to be transported under an umbrella. Alexander's triumphal car was smashed to pieces by a hackney coach at the corner of St. Martin's Lane ; and the jarvey, being blamed for the accident, msisted that he was on the right side, and that Mr. Alexander, if he pleased, might take his number 1 Wrighten next entered, be- wailing his embarrassments, and his departure * It was in this year that Walpole wrote to the Miss Berrys : — " I have had no letter from you these ten days, though the east wind has been as constant as Lord Derby, not to his wife, but to Miss Farren." ELIZABETH FABBEN. 347 from Old Druiy. He was called for by a dozen at a time, who required his instructions as to what they were to do. A comphment was here intro- duced to Miss Farren. The call-boy shouted out that Miss Farren wanted the prompter. ' That can't be !' exclaimed Wrighten. ' Everybody knows that Miss Farren never wants the prompter !' " Parsons then came on in a rage, and vowed he would never appear in comedy again. Tragedy was his vein, and the managers should not bully liim out of it, as he was determined to be heard. Here he roared aloud, and Phillimore from the gallery called to him not to strain his lungs in bellowing like a bull, as he could hear him perfectly well. The audjonce, not understanding tliis vviis a pait in the jDiece, hissed poor Phillimore, and cried * Throw him over !' for what they considered an impertinent interruption. Wewitzer, as a French dancing- master devoted to the classic models, pro- posed that, according to the rule of Monsieur Ddmosthcne, action should be chiefly regarded ; and therefore that while Parsons delivered the speech he, Wewitzer, should embody the sentiments by conformable gestures. Upon this prmciple he objected to the usual practice of starting at the entrance of tlie apparition, and msisted upon the propriety of bowing with grace and reverence, as Hamlet knows it to be the ghost of his papa ! 348 ILLUSTBIOUiS IRISHWOMEN. This produced roars of laughter. Bland came in as an Italian singer, declaring that nothing but opej^a should be performed in that place ; and he and the French critic embraced fraternally and retired, observing that dancing and the ojoera should always go together, in contempt of sense and nature. Harlequin and his usual pantomimi- cal associates presented themselves, but were told by Wrighten that there would be no employment for them, as the sterling merit of the British drama would, for a season at least, be fully sufficient for tlie entertainment of a Bi-itish audience. Harle- quin lamented his dismission, but thought he would soon be wanted ; nevertheless he gave the audience a parting proof of his magic power. He struck the scene, which rose, and formed a view of Mount Parnassus, with Apollo and other my- thological deities. The Muses appeared in suc- cession, and the prelude concluded with a grand chorus." The new theatre in Drury Lane was opened on the 12th of March, 1794, when there was per- formed a grand selection of Handel's music, com- mencing with the Coronation Anthem. The new building was erected at a cost of 129,000/., and was the finest that had been built in the British dominions. " Macbeth" and " The Virgin Un- masked" were the first dramatic performances ELIZABETH FAUEEN. 349 wliich took place there ; and it was upon this occasion that John Keinble, who played Macbeth^ tried the effect of an empty chair, instead of the time-honoured ghost of Banquo. But the pit and gallery objected to the omission, clamoured for their pet spectre, and carried the day. Miss Farren spoke the epilogue, in which she assured the audience that they need be in no dread of fire, as they liad water enough in the theatre to drown them all at a moment's notice. The scene then shifted, and showed a real lake on the stage, with a boat in which was a man who rowed it to and fi'o, whilst the band played, " And did you not hear of a jolly young waterman." Then an iron curtain de- scended, leaving Miss Farren between it and tlie footlights. She informed the audience that should fire break out on the stage it would be thus shut out from the spectators : — No ; we assure you, generous benefactors, 'Twill only burn the scenery and the actors. Despite all these precautions, new Dj-ury Lane was burnt to the ground in February, 1809, just fifteen years after its erection. There were sus- picions of foul play, but this has never been proved. Druiy Lane the Third now rears its stately head upon the same site ; let us hope it may be saved from the fate of its predecessor. For several seasons more we find Miss Elizabeth 350 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. Farren yet steadily and brilliantly pursuing her profession. Little is known concerning her life at this period. From the playbills may be gleaned a list of the characters wliich she played. As Emily Tempest, in " The Wheel of Fortune," she held up John Kemble's train in 1795, and played Helen to his Edivard Mortimer, in " The Iron Chest," in which — from the combined effects of opium and asthma — he signally failed. During the following two seasons — 1796-97 — Miss Farren and John Kemble played Valentine and Angelica, in " Love for Love ;" Falkland and Jidia, in " The Rivals ;" Lord and Lady Townly, in " The Provoked Hus- band ;" and in many other characters. And now the time was rapidly approaching when the brilliant actress was to reap tlie reward of her constancy to her lover. On the 14th of March, 1797, died the Countess of Derby ; and, in less than two months after her death, her place was filled by Miss Elizabeth Farren. Some have characterised this as indecent haste, but, virtually, the Countess had been dead to her husband for many years, so that any semblance of regret at the severance of the legal tie would have been sheer affectation. On the 8th of April, exactly one month before her wedding-day. Miss Farren took her leave of the stage, selecting for her farewell her ELIZABETH FABBEN. 351 famous character of X(2f/y I'eazle.^ Tlie cast was a powerful and a memorable one : — Lady Teazle... Sir Peter Charles Surface Careless Joseph Surface Crabtree Mrs. Candour Miss Elizabeth Farren. Mr. King. Mr. Wrougtiton. Mr. Charles Kemble. Mr. John Palmer. Mr. Suett. Miss Pope. At first Miss Farren seemed in good spirits; but as the play proceeded her emotion became apparent to the audience. It was witli the utmost difficulty she delivered her concluding speech to Lady Sneenoell : — ■ ''Let me also request that you will make my compliments to the scandalous college of which you arc pi'osidctit, and inform tlicm tliat Lady Teazle, Licentiate, begs leave to return the diploma they granted her, as she leaves off practice, and kills characters no longer." As she concluded, she burst into tears. Amidst the applause of the audience, King led her forward, whilst Wroughton spoke the following lines which were written for the occasion, and added to the " tag": — * " I recollect (not the admirable acting in the famous screen scene, but) the circumstance of seeing Lord Derby leaving his private box to creep to her (Miss Farren) behind the screen, and of course we all looked with impatience for the discovery, hoping the screen would fall a little too soon, and show to the audience Lord Derby as well as Lady Teazle." — Vide Miss Wynne's "Diary of a Lady of QuaUty." ■352 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. But ah ! this night adieu the joyoua mien, When Mirth's loved favourite quits the mimic scene ! Startled Thalia would the assent refuse, But TrtUh and Virtue sued, and won the Muse. Awed by sensations it could ill express, Though mute the tongue, the bosom feels not less ; Her speech your kind indulgence oft has known. Be to her silence now that kindness shown ; Ne'er from her mind th' endeared record will part. But live, the proudest feeling of a grateful heart. On the 8th of May, 1797, following, Miss Eliza- beth Farren was married to the Earl of Derby, and was in due time presented at Court, where she was received by lloyalty with every mark of esteem. To show her respect for tlic Countess of Derby's private worth, as well also as to silence some lying and libellous stories which were afloat concerning her, Queen Charlotte selected her to make one in the procession at the marriage of the Princess Hoyal. She was always a favourite at Court, and one evening, many years after her marriage, was on her way to Windsor to spend the Christmas there right royally ; but on the journey the carriage broke down, and the servants were in distress. Just then a carriage, occupied by a good-natured looking elderly gentleman, drove up. He offered the Countess a seat in his vehicle, which she gladly accepted, as he said that he also was on his way to Windsor Castle. " I have been thinking of old times, my Lady ELIZABETH FABBEN. 353 Countess, upon this Christmas Eve," said the Lord Chief Justice of England, " and am scarcely surprised to meet you. How many years is it since I stood at my father's shop-door in Salisbury, and watched your perilous passage over the market- place with a bowl of milk V " Not so long, at all events," she answered, with a smile, " but that I recollect my poor father would have lost his breakfast but for your assistance." " The time is not long for memory," replied the judge, " nor is Sahsbury as far from Windsor as Dan is from Beersheba, yet how wide the distance between tlie breakfast at the cage-door in Salisbury and the Christmas dinner to which we are botli proceeding at the palace of the King I" The Countess of Derby had three children — the eldest, a son, who lived to be Seventeen ; a daughter, who died at the age of ten ; and a second daughter, the late Countess of Wilton. In private as well as in professional life no one was more respected than Elizabeth Farren, Countess of Derby. She Hved many years to enjoy her honours, and died, at the age of seventy, on the 29th of April, 1829. The Earl survived her but a few years. VOL. I. A A MARIA rOPE. Born, a.d. 1775. Died, a.d. 1803. RBTS INT A Cr^"— the city of Waterford— has given to the stage two of its most dis- tinguished comedy actresses, Kitty Clive and Dorotliy Jordan. But anotlier acti-css fi'om the maiden city claims a pkxce upon the roll of histrionic fame — and the robes of Melpomene, as yet unworn by an Irishwoman, never clothed a more fitting subject than Maria Campion. She is one of the very few actresses who have risen to eminence in their profession, yet concerning whose private life little or nothing is known. In 1798 she married Mr. Pope, a widower, whose first wife. Miss Younge, had also been celebrated as an actress. Maria Campion was born in Waterford, in 1775, where her fixther, who was a respectable merchant, died when she was yet but a child, leaving a wife and two daughters totally unprovided for. Some relatives, seeing the destitute condition of the widow and orphans, came forward and offered to MABIA POPE. 365 take charge of Maria, the eldest girl. She was, even then, studious and thoughtful, and — consi- dermg the scarcity of books at the time — very well read for her age. She was particularly fond of dramatic literature, and an old volume of Shakspeare was her constant companion and delight. At this time the Waterford Theatre held no inconsiderable rank amongst provincial playhouses. Companies from Smock Alley not infrequently went there for a season. Daly, one of the best of provincial managers, often took his company to Waterford ; and upon one occasion, when they played " The Orphan" there, Maria Campion witnessed the performance whicii sealed her fate. It was the first time she had ever been in a theatre, and her awed delight and admu'ation knew no bounds. Upon her return home, the house rang with the sighs of Jlfoiiiinia ; she could tallt of nothing else ; and nothing could induce her to swerve from her fixed determination to become a tragic acti'ess. Her friends endeavoured to procure for her an interview with Daly, the Dublin manager. But the great man was not to be approached so easily. He objected to having an interview with a "stage- struck child," and handed her over to Hitchcock, the staofe-manncrer. Hitchcock was kind-hearted, A A 2 356. ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. shrewd, and clear-headed, and one of the best dramatic judges of his own or any other day. He saw the girl, listened to her tale, said she was a fine promising child, hnt much too young to think of entering so difficult a profession. She was bitterly disappointed, and as the stage-managor was about to depart, she seized him by the coat and exclaimed imploringly — " Oh ! sir ! but hear me !" Hitchcock started. He had had as great an experience as any manager living of would-be dramatic stars, but, as he afterwards admitted, never before had he heard sucli intense, untutored pathos as in these few words. The stage-manager sat down whilst the girl recited some passages from "The Orphan." He was more than charmed with her ; he prophesied great things for her, gave her some good advice, and promised her that, next season, he would give her a trial upon the Dublin stao^e. Accordingly, in 1792, she made her first ap- pearance in the character of Monimia, in ".The Orphan." It was an important part for a first attempt, and the youthful actress was so nervQus, that when she first went on her terrors so over- whelmed her that she fainted in the stage- manager's arms. However, her appearance had prepossessed the audience in her favour, and she MAKIA POPE. 357 was called for with entliiisiastic acclamations. Her first speech was listened to with much attention. She delivered it with so much tenderness, and with an amount of feeling so conformable to the cha- racter, that the applause was redoubled. Thus encouraged, she went brilhantly through the whole play, and that first night stamped Maria Campion's reputation as a tragic actress. For several seasons she acted at the Dublin Theatre, jDlaying Juliet, Desdemona, and other Shakspearian heroines, together with characters in many of the old stock tragedies. She became the recognised tragic actress of the Irish stage, and sometimes gave her services at the Fishamble Street Theatre, then flourishing under Jones's management. From Dublm she went to York, whither her fame had already spread, and drew crowded houses. She was equally well received at Liverpool, and returned to Dublin with in- creased reputation. About this time Lewis, the comedian, saw her act in "The Orphan," and was so struck with her powers that he recommended her to the management of Covent Garden. She was imme- diately engaged for her favourite character of Monimia, and m 1797 made her debut in London. She charmed her metropolitan no less than her provincial audiences. Cordelia, Indiana, Jane 358 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. Shore, and Juliet were amongst her most successful representations, and her appearance was always hailed with marks of the highest approbation. Of her Juliet, a contemporary critic says : — " It is one of the most interesting we ever saw. The delusion of the scene is not necessary to make us fancy her the very character the author designed to exhibit ; but her feeling, her delicacy, her animation, where the part required it, are above all praise. The scene in which she swallows the poison was never executed witli more judgment ; but there were other excellences which our limits will not allow us to notice. 1'he vindication of her lord's conduct, * Blistered be thy tongue !' to the nurse ; • and the majestic contempt with which she treats her when she discovers the selfishness of her motives, ' Amen ! Amen !' together with all the scenes with Romeo, were admirable. Indeed, the whole performance is so full of beauties and so free from defects that we are not surprised at the play's having run eight nights already, without the attraction of a new dress, scene, dirge, procession, or any otiier adventitious circumstance whatever." In private life Miss Campion was distinguished for her amiability and unassuming manners. In 1798 she married Mr. Pope, a respectable actor, who never rose much above mediocrity. She MARIA POPE. 359 continued to act after her marriage, and on July 10th, 1803, played Desdemona, at Covent Garden, for Cooper's benefit. When about half-way through the performance she was taken suddenly ill, and Mrs. Ansdell was obliged to take her place and finish the part. Mrs. Pope was imme- diately taken home, but for some days no fears were entertained of any fatal termmation to her illness. On the 18tli, however, as she was seated on a sofa talking to a friend, she suddenly fell upon the floor, and upon being raised up exj^ired without a word or a struggle in a few moments. The Gentleman s Magazine for the same year gives the following account of her death : — " On examination by a surgeon it was found her disorder was apoplectic, brought on, it is supposed, by exertion and anxiety in her pro- fession. Some of the veins in the head had burst, and occasioned her death. The public will no doubt deeply regret the loss of an actress who has so much delighted them by the spirit, feeling, and judgment with which she performed. Her friends in private life will equally lament the early death of an amiable companion. Her remains were interred in Westminster Abbey on the 25th, near those of the former Mrs. Pope (late Miss Younge)." At the time of her death Maria Pope was only in her twenty- eighth year, and had been but ten 360 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. years before the public. Her career during her short but brilliant life was earnest of greater tilings to come. Had Death spared her, there is reason to believe that even to her great country- woman, Miss O'Neill, she would scarcely have stood second in the ranks as a tragic actress. MISS O'NEILL. (LADY WEIXON BEEUHER.) Born, a.d. 1791. Dimd, a.d. 1872. BOUT the very time when Maria Campion suppUcated Hitchcock, the stage-manager of the DubUn Theatre, to allow her to recite before him, another provincial stage-manager — who found it very hard to keep the wolf from the door — was one day saluted with the news that unto liim was a child born. A baby-daughter, born, apparently, to squalor, to indigence, and to that fight for bare existence which was then an attendant upon the career of a strolling player. Moreover, they were troublous times in Ireland at this period, and it can scarcely be supposed that the stage-manager of the little theatre in Drogheda felt particularly rejoiced at the prospect of having another mouth to feed. Under such circumstances did the future great tragic actress make her first appearance upon the stage of Life. Like her famous contemporary, Kean, she was nursed in indigence. Her educa- 362 ILLUSTRIOUS IBISEWOMEN. tion was neglected, for tlie profits of a provincial actor — never very great — were then very scanty, and she had no opportunity of early and careful training. Often might little Eliza O'Neill be seen running barefoot through the dirty, steep, narrow streets of Drogheda, passing to and from the humble school where she received the only in- struction she ever had in her hfe. She had soon to commence to work for her living. When yet but a very little girl her father used to introduce her in juvenile parts, so that she became early accustomed to appear before the footlights. Her first juvenile character was as the little son of King Edward, the young Duke of Yoj^k, which she played to her father's Duke of Glo'ster, in " Richard III." Her performance excited a good deal of admiration, and the juvenile prodigy was no small attraction to the theatre. When about twelve she was put into more important parts, and such was the opinion of her talent that she was offered an engagement by Mr. Talbot, the lessee of the Irish Northern Circuit. Eliza O'Neill speedily became a favourite with the company and with her audiences, and remained with Mr. Talbot for between two and three years. Her engagement with Jones, of the Crow Street Theatre, Dublin, was due in some measure to an accident. When returning from her provincial MISS O'NEILL. 363 tour, in company with her father and brother, on their way to Drogheda, they were obhged to stay for the night at an hotel in Dubhn. On this very day the manager of the Crow Street Theatre was in a dilemma. His principal actress, Miss Wal- stein, who had been announced for the part of Juliet, refused to appear without an increase of salary. The story is thus told by the garrulous Mike Kelly :— " Miss Walstein, who was the heroine of the Dublin stage, and a great and deserved favourite, was to open the theatre in the character of Juliet. Mr. Jones received an intimation from Miss Wal- stein that, without a certain increase of salary and otlicr privileges, bIio would not come to the house. Mr. Jones had arrived at the determination to shut up his theatre sooner than submit to what he thought an unwarrantable demand, when MacNally, the box-keeper, who had been the bearer of Miss Walstein 's message, told Mr. Jones that it would be a pity to shut up the house ; that there was a remedy, if Mr. Jones chose to avail himself of it. ' The girl, sir,' said he, ' who has been so often recommended to you as a promising actress, is now at an hotel in Dublin, with her father and brother, where they have just arrived, and is proceeding to Drogheda to act in her father's theatre there. I have heard it said by persons who have seen her 364 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. that she plays Juliet extremely well, and is very young and very pretty. I am sure that she would be delighted to have the opportunity of appearing before a Dublin audience, and, if you please, I will make her the proposal.' The pro- posal was made and accepted, and on the following Saturday ' the girl,' who was Miss O'Neill, made her debut on the Dublin stage as Juliet. The audience was delighted ; she acted the part several nights, and Mr. Jones offered her father and brother very liberal terms, which were thankfully accepted." The Irish Dramatic Censor of the time repeatedly mentions Miss O'NeHl's performances. The notices are, in many instances, rather lengthy ; but it would be unfair to omit them in any memoir of this actress, as they present so faithfully the cur- rent opinion respecting her powers at the time. "Oct. 10th. — Miss O'Neill's first appearance. None of the gentlemen who support this publica- tion attended, mistakingly imagining that it would be one of those first appearances with which the town has been so repeatedly nauseated." "Oct. 12th.— " Romeo and Juliet. JULIET, Miss O'Neill. "We have seen Juliet played by as good, but never by so young an actress. Of course she must MISS O'NEILL. 365 (for some years to come, at least) stand unrivalled in such cliaracters." " Oct. 28tli. — TiMouR THE Tartar — The great object deserving critical attention is Zorilda — the Zorilda of Miss O'Neill. A young actress has burst as suddenly as unexpectedly upon the town, who appears to be gifted by Nature with every rich requisite necessary to place her at the head, of her profession. The figure of this young lady is fascinating to the highest degree of interest ; her voice — Sweet as the warbling of the vernal wood — is rich, powerful, melodious ; her delineation of character is correct (far beyond her yea,rs). No studied inflection— no artificial pauses. Not one tragic scream has yet gi-ated on the i)ublic ear, nor has a face, tlio lines of which are capable of every delicate feminine expression, been worked up into the forced contortions of horror or the unnatural convulsions of demoniac fury — such is Miss O'Neill — such was the representative of Zorilda. " Charlotte JRusport has been so exquisitely per- formed by the Abingdon, Miss Farren (now Countess of Derby), and oiu' own inimitable Mrs. Daly (nor should we totally forget Mrs. Edwin in the part), that it becomes an effort of much hazard for a young actress, and more particularly 366 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. SO juvenile a one as Miss O'Neill, to undertake the cliaraci.er. We cannot say lier success was com- plete ; we cannot say that she wholly failed. But it is the Tragic Music (unless we are most eo-reo-lously mistaken) that will one day crown this charming young actress with never-dying laurels. " Miss O'Neill, in our opinion, made too much of the romp of Lady Teazle. Her penitential speeches were, however, given in a manner equal, perhaps justice almost demands we should say, superior, to anything ever hefore seen or licard in tlie pait. But when once the actress has attained this point of the character, there should be an end to all her ladyship's levity. It is true the author has given her one or two short sentences which rather savour of it ; but would they not be much better omitted altogether 1 Miss O'Neill's itjlwle agitation of frame, when the screen was thrown down, wa,s fine — it was superior acting." What an acute and admirable criticism upon the character is the foregoing ! The performance of an old play, called "1'he Foundling of the Forest," gave rise to the following critique : — " Miss O'Neill is too juvenile a figure to per- sonate the unknown female ; but all that was possible, under such circumstances, to achieve, she did ; her pathos made us frequently forget the im- MISS O'NEILL. 3G7 possibility of lier being mother to the elder Farren. Less studied, less scientific than Miss Smith, but far more natural and affecting, the art of the actress and the figure of the woman must decide in favour of the one ; but anguish personified, and sighs and tears untutored, put m a ca- veat, eveJi against aiipeai^ances, in favour of the other." Omittmg many minor, and invariably favourable, criticisms, we come to the first mention of her Ophelia : — " Considering the arduous situation in which Miss O'Neill was placed, as the successor of Miss Walstein in Ophelia, she far exceeded our expecta- tions : a more interesting representative of the character never appeared before an audience. Modest and unassuming, lovely in appearance, and eminently successful in those points of the pathetic which are the great adornments of the character, it would be unfair to draw any invidious parallel between her singing and the high and universally acknowledged vocal powers which distinguished her predecessor. To king, however, the whole of the performance into our view, it was such as warrants us in declaring the hitherto increasing reputation of the actress suffered no abatement whatever by her performance of Ophelia^ Further on, the same critic says : — " Miss O'Neill is rapidly 368 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. transforming, or rather forming, herself into the first actress on the stage." The Dramatic Censor abounds with many other well-weighed and favourable notices of Miss O'Neill's acting. It was about this time that Lord William Lennox, then a mere lad, was introduced to her. In after years he wrote as follows con- cerning the charming actress : — " At this period Miss O'Neill was about twenty- one years of age ; she was loveliness personified ; her voice was the perfection of melody; her manner graceful, impassioned, irresistible. Inferior to Mrs. Siddons in dignity and in depicting the more terrible and stormy passions of human nature, she excelled that great mistress of the histrionic art in tenderness and natural pathos. In Lady Macbeth^ Constance, Volwnnia, Margaret of Anjou, and Lady Randolph, the Siddons was unrivalled ; while O'Neill in her matchless representation of feminine tenderness, as Juliet, Belvi/Jera, L^abella, and Mrs. Ilaller, was faultless ; and this reminds me of an anecdote of Byron, who was some few years after- wards so jealous of Miss O'Neill's reputation inter- fering with that of his favourite, Edmund Kean, that in order to guard himself against the risk of becoming a convert, he refused to go and see her act. Tom Moore endeavoured sometimes to per- suade him into witnessing at least one of her per- MISS O'NEILL. 369 formances, but his answer was (punning ujDon Shakspeare s word " unannealed"), " No, I'm re- solved to continue un-0'Neiled."* Miss O'Neill next played the character of Ellc?i, in "The Lady of the Lake," and subsequently Ja7ie Shore. She also essayed genteel comedy, in which she was most successful, but her forte evidently lay in tragedy. Mrs. Siddons and Mrs. Pope had passed away, and the throne of tragedy was untenanted. No queen reigned there ; but many who saw the young Irish actress, the next season, in the tra.gedy of "Adelaide, or The Emigrants," adjudged her worthy to fill the vacant throne. The play was written especially for her by Richard Lalor Sliiel, and her rci)resentation of the chief character much enhanced her professional reputation. Her private life was irreproachable. She was a most industrious student of her art, and tried to make amends for her want of early education. Miss O'Neill — with that indomitable perseverance which ever characterised her — applied diligently to the task of perfecting herself in all the technical requirements of her profession. To the study of gesture and manne]- did she especially devote her attention, puttmg herself under the tuition of * Vide " Celebrities I liave Known," vol. i. p. 208. VOL. I. B B 370 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. the most famous teacher of theatrical dancing and gesture then in Dublin — Mr. Henry Garbois. A provincial tour succeeded Miss O'Neill's Dublin en- gagement. "The great London actor," John Kemble, was at this time starring it through Ireland, and the young actress often had the honour of acting with him. She was everywhere enthusiastically received, for the fame of her Juliet had preceded her. In Limerick and Cork her reception exceeded her most sanguine hopes. She received something more tangible than vociferous applause, for on her benefit nights in each of these cities the theatres were crammed from floor to ceiling ; and on one occasion the receipts exceeded five hundred pounds. John Kemble — who was even a better business man than he was an actor — was not slow to appre- ciate her talents ; but — probably with the recol- lection of his illustrious sister fresh in liis mind — he was not especially enthusiastic in his admiration of Miss O'Neill. He was not particularly affected towards Miss Walstein, who, in a fit of jealousy, had left the Dublin boards, and was almost a failure in London. Kemble remembered this, and, taking a very business-like view of Miss O'Neill's talents, wrote thus to the London management : — " Tliere is a very pretty Irish girl here, with a small touch of the brogue on her tongue. She has much quiet talent, and some genius. With a MISS O'NEILL. 371 little expense, and some trouble, we might make her ' an object' for John Bull's admiration in the juvenile tragedy. They call her here ('tis in verse — for they are all poets, all Tom Moores here) the 'Dove,' in contradistinction to Miss Walstein, whom they designate as the 'Eagle.' I recom- mend the ' Dove' to you, as more lil^ely to please John Bull than the Irish ' Eagle,' who is, in fact, merely a Siddons diluted, and would only be tolerated when Siddons is forgotten." The London managers acted upon the advice of John Kemble, and offered the young Irish actress an engagement at Drury Lane for three years. She accepted their terms, which were fifteen, six- teen, and seventeen pounds per week ; and was at once announced to play the part of Juliet, on October Gtli, 1814. There have been many success- ful first appearances, but the debut of Eliza O'Neill on the London stage is recorded as the most bril- liant to be found in theatrical annals. At the end of the first act the audience were enthusiastic, and at the termination of the play their frantic admiration was almost uncontrollable. Accorduig to the prevalent custom then, the manager came before the curtain, and announced the comedy of " The Merry Wives of Wmdsor," for the next evening:. But he was assailed with cries of " No ! no ! — ' Bomeo and Juliet' " — and so, in de- B B 2 372 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. ference to public opinion, " E-omeo and Juliet" it was. Fame and fortune were now in Miss O'Neill's grasp. The managers at once increased her salary to thirty pounds a week, and she shared the 2:)laudits of the town with Edmund Kean. Mrs. Siddons was powerful and awe-inspiring, Miss O'Neill was powerful and full of sweetness. Her success is in no small degree to be attributed to the judgment which she invariably displayed in lier selection of characters, as the following, copied from an autograph letter of her own, will demon- strate : — " Olarges Street, Saturday. "My dear Mr. Harris, — You must be con- vinced of my readiness to oblige you, and my great repugnance to refuse any character in wliich I could appear without destroying the reputation I have gained. I therefore trust that you will yield to my wishes of not performing * Mary- Stewart.' I have again read it with the greatest attention, and wish (if possible) to accept it, but I find that it is out of my power to make a single eflPect in it. With this impression you will not, T trust, any further press it upon me. "You say that you have yielded to me in four characters : Lady Teazle, Lady Uesiless, Iforatia, and But/and. You forget that it was my intention MISS O'NEILL. 373 (by the advice of all who were interested in my welfare) to act the part of Lady Teazle (my first appearance in comedy) for my own benefit, which was sure to have (from the novelty, if nothing else) the desired effect, but I gave the character to you with pleasure, and acted in it, I think, fifteen or sixteen nights. Lady Restless I declined, from my fear of acting it ill, as you know I never wished to appear in comedy, except on one night m the season, perhaps for my benefit ; but I consented to your wishes as you seemed to think it would be for your mterest, and by so doing I find myself the comic actress of the theatre, or if engaged in tragedy, in a character m which it is impossible to make Lho slightest inipression. " Believe me, it ever was, and still is, my earnest wish to do all in my power to forward the interests of Covent Garden, but I cannot entirely sacrifice my feelings (nor can I think that you should wish I should) by appearing nightly before a pubUc, to whom I owe so much, and towards whom I feel so grateful, m characters in which there is not one opportunity for dischargmg what I think but my duty. " If you wish, I will try what I can do with Horatia, if you have nothmg better in the meantime. " Beheve me most sincerely yours, "E. O'Neill." 374 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. Edmund Kean begged of lier to play Lady Macbeth to his Macbeth, but she steadily refused to do so, being conscious that her powers were inadequate to it. She was perfectly aware that she lacked the terrible intensity necessary to give a true rendering of the character. Save Mrs. Siddons, no actress has ever yet properly inter- preted it. Some of the critics of her day did Miss O'Neill much unintentional harm by declaring her to be the rival of Mrs. Siddons. She never was so in any sense of the word. She never essayed the grandeur, the gloom, the solenniity, the intensity of passion which characterised the great sister of the Kembles. Miss O'Neill's line was altogether different — hers was the emotional, loving, sweet, tender, and sad. One great secret of her success lay in her intense sensitiveness and earnestness. She felt whatever she portrayed, and cried bitterly during her tragic scenes.'^ Like her great fellow-artiste, Kean, she founded her style above all things on Nature. She discarded altogether the rigid traditions of the school of John Kerable, and distracted many a faithful and pedantic old actor by the unexpected and irre- * But two actresses of the present day possess, in any eminent degree, these atti-ibutes of intense sensitiveness and earnestness — Mrs. Hermann Vezin and Miss Carlisle— the latter not as well known as she deserves to be. MISS O'NEILL. 375 pressible impulses which she allowed herself to obey when true emotion prompted her.' Her voice was exquisitely modulated to express all the various moods of love, and sympathy, and sorrow : as Kemble said of her, in liis elabo- rately moderate way, *' It is not given to Miss O'Neill to astonish, but she never fails to de- liglit ; at all events, she is always equal to the occasion. " As a great tragic actress — in her own peculiar line — Miss O'Neill is chiefly remembered ; never- theless, her essays in comedy were very respect- able, and deserve more than a passmg notice. On tlie 10th of March, 1816, she made her first appearance in comedy in London as Lady Teazle. Owing to her previous success in tragedy, this first performance in high comedy was looked forward to with much interest. But Miss O'Neill passed triumphantly through the ordeal, and was enthusiastically received. She afterwards per- formed The Widow Cheerly, Mrs. Oakley, and Lady Townly. Her favourite comedy character was that of Mrs. Haller, in " The Stranger," in which she made her first appearance with John Kemble, who was so bad with the gout that he had to be led to the wmgs. The following letter shows what was the current opinion of Miss O'Neill's Mr-s. Ilaller : — 876 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. Woburn Abbey, Nov. 15th, 1813. " My dear Sir, — A friend of mine, who luxs not been in town for some years, and may not be there again for a length of time, is anxious to see the first actress in my opinion that ever did or ever will appear, and I am desirous of contributing to his amusement by taking him to our box next week. He is to be with me at Canterbury Monday, and I am most desirous of knowing a Cabinet Secret, if you will tell me — that is, what day Miss O'Neill plays in the next week, and if she plays Mrs. Ilaller ? If it is settled, and if you will confide so important a secret to me, I will take care that none of those sub-committee fellows of Drury Lane shall know it. I return home Friday, therefore any letter directed to Canterbury will find me. " Yours very faithfully, Epex. "P.S. — You must make me known some day to Miss O'Neill ; no one can rate her transcendent talents higher than / do, who have remembered all, from Siddons to CNedl."* For her benefit she played Maria, in " The Citizen," in which she sang and danced so charm- ingly that her audience were in doubt as to which had the better claim to the fascinatinor actress, Thalia or Melpomene. * Vide Additional MSS., British Museum MS. Eoom. MISS O'NEILL. 377 Miss O'Neill had now been five years at Covent Garden, acting there every season. She amassed a considerable fortune, and, to her credit be it spoken, she gave An independence to her aged parents. Her brothers she also helped in their careers. The eldest, John O'Neill, through her interest, received a colonial appointment m Canada, but died on the voyage there. Her second brother, Robert O'Neill, became a pupil of the celebrated surgeon, Mr. Wilson, but met with an accidental death ; whilst the youngest, Charles O'Neill, received a commission in the army. When we look back and read of the brilhant provincial society of Kilkenny at the beginning of this century, it may well bo said that the glory has departed from Ireland. A sort of provincial court was kept up at Ormonde Castle, and the noble house of Butler was also famous for its convivial hospitality. Kilkenny had its " season" then as well as Dublin, which lasted for six weeks in winter and two in summer. The first week was devoted to the theatre, and the second to hunt>y-ig, racing, and balls. There was a private theatre at Kilkenny at this time, wherein the gentlemen amateurs of the company used to subscribe and engage the best actresses from London and Dublin. The price was the same to pit and boxes — viz., six shillings and eleven pence for each ticket, and the proceeds were always 378 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. given to charity. Large sums were realised at these performances, as the country gentry used to come from far and near to witness them. In one of her letters Miss Maria Edgeworth records her delight at having been taken to the Kilkenny Theatre, and her surprise at the excellence of the acting. These private theatricals were first inaugurated in Kilkenny in 1802, when the theatre was opened with a prologue written by Mr. Tighe, who also took part in the performance. These were the palmy days of Kilkenny, when the town was thronged by the leaders of the Irish aris- tocracy, and lodgings were at a premium. At the Castle, the Butlers dispensed splendid Irish hospitality, the grand suppers after the theatricals being one of the chief attractions of the season. Rank, wit, beauty, and literature were well repre- sented there. Thomas Moore was a welcome guest always, and in 1809 wrote and spoke an epilogue at the opening of the season. In 1812, just as Miss O'Neill was beginning to show promise of her great talents, she acted Belinda at the Kilkenny Theatre. Amongst these gentlemen amateurs Mr. Wrixon- Beecher was distinguished, not alone for the excellence but for the originality of his acting. Ladies also gave their aid, and Mrs. John Power wrote the prologue for the opening of the season MISS O'NEILL. 379 of 1818. The following extract from it shows that the lady inherited the talent as well as the blood of the Bushes and Grattans : — Oh ! much-lovod Erin, would thy sons who roam. Exert their talents, nor dcsi^ise their homo ; Then might this isle, deformed, and sunk in fame, With other nations proudly rank her name. Has not their genius shone through foreign climes, In Wellington — the wonder of our times P To him united Europe trust the sword, To draw or sheathe it, as he gives the word. With pride old Leinster sent her warrior forth, Renowned in arms, beloved for private worth. What names more high than Pack among the brave. Or Ponsonby, just rescued from the grave ? Boast we not Grattan's high, unsullied name — Our truest patriot in the list of fame ; Who, scorning party, praise, and blame, withstood — One glorious object his — his country's good? Does Erin want a bard lior naino to riiiso While Moore, fresh-crowned with never-fading bays, Unrivalled, sings his own harmonious lays ? What varied talents to our bar belong — Applauding senates hang on Plunket's tongue. The statesman's wisdom with the poet's fire. Then fair O'Neill ranks first on Britain's stage, While Edgeworth gives to youth the sense of age, And all admire O'Donnell's patriot page. On the 28th of October, 1819, the Kilkenny Theatre was opened for the last time. During the season Miss O'NeiU had played there several times; and here she met, and played with, Mr. Wrixon- Beecher, whom she subsequently married. The first night she appeared, the audience — ladies in- cluded — received her standing, to mark not merely their admiration for her genius, but their respect for her character. A magnificent baU was given 380 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. at the theatre upon this night. It commenced with a country dance, in which Mr. Gervase Power led off Miss Kavanagh, and Miss O'Neill was led down the dance by Richard Power of Kilfane. The play selected was "Richard the Third," Wrixon- Beecher playing Richard, and Miss O'Neill Lady Anne. The following list of the performers may possess some interest for their descendants : — Last Season of the Kilkenny Private Theatricals, OCTOBER 28tu, 1819. The Company Mr. R. Power. Sir J. 0. Coghill. Mr. Rothe. Mr. J. Power. Mr, Beecher. Mr. G. Hill. Mr. Corry. Mr. Hare. Lord Monck. Mr. Dixon. Mr. R. Langrish. Mr. Smythe. Mr. R. Rothe. Mr. Anderson. Mr. J. Power, jun. Mr. E. Helsliam. Mr. R. Power, jun. Mr. R. Helshara. Mr. G. Power. Mr. H. Helsham. Mr. H. A. Bushe. Mr. T. Hill. Mr. Annesley. Mr. Shee. Mr. Holmes. Mr. M. Shee. Mr. GylcB. Mr. Bookey. Mr. M'Caskoy. Mr. I'leming. Lord Hawarden. Mr. Marshall. Lord James Stuart. Masters Dalton and Brenan. Miss O'Neill. Miss Roche. Miss Walstein. Miss Curtis. Miss Kelly. Miss J( )hnston Miss Eyrety. MISS O'NEILL." 381 Mrs. Siddons was justly proud of having won tears from Burke ; and Miss O'Neill might feel no less proud of having won the heart of one of the most accomplished and famous men of the day:— The gallant man, Who led the van Of the Irish volunteers ! Miss O'Neill's success was truly wonderful. What must not have been the grace and genius of the unfriended young Irish girl, to have so speedily won her exalted position before a public with the sublime Siddons and the comet-like Kean fresh in their memories ! She was a lion in London society, and Sir Walter Scott was fond of telling how he and Miss O'Neill were once seized upon by a famous lion-lnmter at Highgate. They got into some ground entirely surrounded by an iron rail- ing, and Sir Walter turned to the lion-hunter and said : " Now, your fortune is made ! Hoist a flag on a pole, and placard that you have got a beautiful lion and lioness, and in half an hour you will have multitudes to see us ; and we shall roar in grand style, shall we not. Miss O'Neill ?'"' In the December of the same year upon which the Kilkenny Theatre was closed for ever. * Vide Lockhart'a " Scott," vol. i. p. 391. 382 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. Miss O'Neill was married to Mr. Wrixon-Beecher. The event was thus recorded in an Irish news- paper : — "Miss Eliza O'Neill was married December 18th, 1819, to William Wrixon-Beecher, Esq., M.P. for Mallow, and one of the most celebrated and accomplished of our theatrical amateurs. The ceremony was performed at Kilfane Church by the Dean of Ossory. The whole of Miss O'Neill's fortune was settled on her family. Her loss to the public is much regretted." Miss O'Neill's professional career was at once the shortest and the most brilliant ever known. From the time when she played Juliet by accident in the Crow Street Theatre, in Dublin, up to the day of her marriage, her career was one of un- interrupted success. Like all true geniuses, she was excessively modest in her estimate of her own powers, and no entreaties could prevail upon her to take a public farewell of the stage. Tliis was rather remarkable, considering how very well the public had treated her. Miss O'Neill's retirement was much lamented, and the throne of tragedy was indeed declared deserted when she voluntarily vacated it. Amongst English tragic actresses, her only superior was Mrs. Siddons, and in her own particular walk she has never had a rival. Miss O'Neill was scarcely above the medium MISS O'NEILL. 383 height. Miss Wynne says of her : " She was always graceful, merely because she could not help it ; because it was impossible to throw those beautifully formed limbs, and especially that neck, into any position that was not beautiful."* Her eyes were blue, her hair light, and her features exquisitely expressive. The mournful cadence of her full- toned melodious voice was admirably suited to tragedy, but quite out of place when she attempted comedy — for in the latter line she always appeared ill at ease, and her laugh was so palpably assumed that it grated upon the ears of her audience. After her marriage, she lived quietly on her liusband'a estate in tlio souLh of Trcland. By tlio death of his uncle, in 1831, Mr. Beecher succeeded to the baronetcy, and the ci-devant actress became Lady Wrixon-Beecher. She survived her husband — by whom she had a numerous family — several years, and peacefully closed her long and blameless life on the 20th of October, 1872, at the advanced age of eighty-one years. The Annual Register for October, 1872, gives the following account of her death : — ''Lady Beecher (Miss O'Neill), relict of Sir William Wrixon-Beecher, died at her residence, " Diary of a Lady of Quality," p. 102. 384 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. Ballygiblin, near Mallow, on the 20th. The deceased lady, who had attained her eighty-first year, at one time occupied a most prominent position in the theatrical profession. The great dramatic genius and brilliant triumphs of Miss O'Neill are matters of history. On the stage she had no rival ; in fact, she elevated the profession, and gave to it dignity and respectability. In her famous characters of Mi^s. Bailer' and Mrs. Beverley and Belvidera, contemporary critics represent her as liaviug been unapproacliablo in lier 'realisation of tlioso iin[)orHoiiaLi()iiH. Ju early life, -it is said, ' the great Miss O'Neill,' as her ladyship was designated, passed through much and severe trial; but her genius, which was unquestionable, and her determination of character, which is represented as something astonishing, enabled her successfully to surmount all the difficulties and obstructions wliich beset her path. Her first appearance was made in a rather humble manner, and in company with humble companions, in a small provincial town ; but on her debut in London, in 1814, she at once occupied, if not the first, at least a most distin- guished position, and after a brief time was unanimously hailed as * The Great Miss O'Neill.' The deceased lady, who was a native of Ireland, was in private life as remarkable for true benevo- lence and practical kindness as she was during her MISS O'NEILL. 385 professional career for the splendour of her histrionic abilities. " Lady Wrixon-Beecher's unblemished character as a woman, was a fitting accompaniment to her brilliant public career ; and her noble character will long be honoured in many cu'cles and many homes where the brief triumphs of the stage would perhaps be held of but Httle account. VOL. I. C C CATHERINE HAYES. Born, a.d. 1828. Died, a.d. 1861. S the possessor of rare histrionic talents — scarcely less remarkable than her marvel- lous vocal gifts — Catherine Hayes is entitled to a place amongst those of her country- women who have been more decidedly disciples of Melpomene and Thalia. Of Erin's many gifted daughters, she is the only one who has gained European fame as a songstress ; many of her countrywomen have done excellently in this respect, but she has excelled them all. It is a curious fact that Ireland, so essentially the land of song, should have given to the lyric stage but one single female vocalist, capable of interpreting with success the higher branches of dramatic music. In every other art our country has given proof of the genius of her children ; but as a vocalist — Irish by birth — who has achieved triumphs which place in the shade many of the proudest vocal victories of foreign prima donnas, Catherine Hayes stands alone. G ATE E BINE EAYES. 387 One summer's evening a pleasure party were idly rowing along the Shannon, where it passes the pleasure-grounds of tlie Earl of Limerick, and the gardens of the See house. Suddenly, upon the stillness of the evening air there was poured forth a flood of melody, so sweet, so pure, so fresh, that they all remained transfixed witli delight as they listened to the unknown singer. Unconscious of the audience, the unseen continued to pour forth song after song, finishing up with " The Lass o' Gowrie," which was concluded with a prolonged and thrilling shake. A rapturous shout of applause from the listeners betrayed their presence to the frightened child, little "Kitty" Hayes, then scarcely ten years old. Catherine Hayes was born at No. 4, Patrick Street, Limerick, in 1828, and early showed evi- dences of her wonderful musical gifts. Her grand- mother was housekeeper to the Earl of Limerick, and with this relative the child spent much of her time. Her chief delight was to sit in one of the arbours in a garden skirting the Shannon, and tliere to warble forth all the old Irish— or any other — songs and ballads which she could pick up. One of the listeners upon the particular summer's evening referred to was the Hon. and Kight Reverend Edmund Knox, Bishop of Limerick, himself a musician and musical critic c c 2 388 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. of no mean ability. His practised ear at once discerned the rare qualities of voice of the juvenile songstress. Inquiries were made as to who and what she was, and from that day forth the Bishop of Limerick became her patron. Society at that time in Limerick was very musical, and the Bishop's piviegee was soon acknowledged as a star in the circle. A lady — a distinguished amateur — undertook to give the child lessons in music, and was more than astonished at the marvellous aptitude which she displayed. On one occasion she asked Kitty to execute a shake. The child bashfully demurred, but upon her teacher playing one upon the piano, and desiring her to try and imitate it, the child, as if inspired, not alone imi- tated it, but introduced so many wonderful and enthralling flights of sweetness, that her preceptress was utterly overcome with amazement and admi- ration. The lady, upon conscientious grounds, refused to have anything more to say to Kitty's musical education. She appealed to the Bishop, telling him the child had a fortune in her voice. The parents of Catherine Hayes were in very straitened circumstances, and quite unable to defray the expenses of a first-class musical educa- tion for their daughter. Accordingly the Bishop consulted some friends who were interested in the little girl, the result being that a subscription was OATnmiNE HAYES, 389 speedily set on foot, and a large sum raised for tlie purpose of giving her the advantage of proper tuition. Signor Antonio Sapio, then recognised as the first teacher of singing in Ireland, was the master selected for Catherine Hayes, who took up her residence with liim in Dublin on April 1st, 1839. She was now but eleven years of age, mtli a full, clear, silvery soprano voice, much pure and refined natural taste, and very little knowledge of music. The intention was to cultivate her talent with a view of enabhng her to earn her living as a concert singer. Her master lost no opportunity of bringing her prominently before the public, and on May 3rd, 1839, about a month after her arrival hi Dublin, she made her first appearance before an audience in that city. The concert was held ui the great room of the Rotunda ; and the youthful singer was cordially welcomed. The old duet, "O'er shepherd pipe," she sang with Signor Sapio, and was encored in it. Young as Catherine Hayes was, her perse- verance and industry were marvellous. When she made her next appearance at a concert given by the Anacreontic Society, in the December of the same year, her master's musical friends were unfeignedly surprised at the progress which she had made. Her execution of *' Qui la voce," from *' I Puritani," 390 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. and " Come per sereno," excited no ordinary amount of admiration. When she paid a visit to her native city of Limerick, about a month afterwards, her friends there considered her improvement nothing short of magical. Their expectations were more than reahsed, and a concert at which she sang there, for the joint benefit of herself and Signer Sapio, gave her substantial proof of the estimation in which she was held by her townspeople. But this intense application began to tell upon her health, and during the next year she was obliged to relax her studies. Not until 1841 did she again sing in public, when she was introduced to Liszt, who was charmed with her voice. She was now recognised as one of the cliief concert singers in Dublin, and raised her terms, a prosaic but certain mode of demonstrating her popularity. Up to this time it had been the height of Catherine Hayes's ambition to become a first-class concert singer. The idea of the operatic stage had never occurred to her mind, nor to that of any of her patrons. Lablache first suggested the subject. He heard her sing — sang a duet with her — and pre- dicted a brilliant future for her. Giving her some good advice, and recommending her to go and hear Grisi and Mario — then performing in Dublin — he dismissed her with the following letter to Signor Sapio : — CATHERINE HAYES. 301 " I have heard with infinite pleasure your pupil, Miss Hayes, and I find she possesses all the quali- ties to make a good singer. With your instruc- tions slie can but gain every day, and I am certain she will end by becoming a perfect vocalist in every sense of the word." The same night she went to hear Grisi, and Catlierine Hayes then and there decided upon studying for the operatic stage. With a letter of introduction to Mr. George Osborne, she shortly afterwards set out for Paris, there to study under the world-famed Manuel Garcia. " The dearest, the kindest, and the most generous of masters !" Catherine Hayes always called him. He took a very great interest in the young Irish girl, and at the end of eighteen months advised her to go to Italy and study there, as he could not add a single grace or charm to her beautiful voice. She acted upon this advice, and proceeded to Milan, where she placed himself under the instruction of tlie most famous tutor for the lyric stage to be found in Italy. This was Signer Honconi, who introduced her to the famous Signora Grassini. This latter lady was as kind-hearted and as generous-minded as she was talented. Instead of feeUng any professional jealousy when she heard Catherine Hayes sing, she warmly congratulated her, and did everything in her power to further her interests. She even 392 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. wrote to her friend, Signor Provini, impresario of the Opera at Marseilles, telling him of this new star which had just risen upon the horizon of the musical world. So enthusiastic was she, that Signor Provini actually came to Milan, heard Miss Hayes, offered her most liberal terms, and she forthwith entered into an engagement with him for two months. So on the 10th of May, 1845, Catherine Hayes made her first appearance on the operatic stage, at the Opera House of Marseilles. The opera selected was " I Puritani," Miss Hayes sustaining the part of Elvira, There was a crowded house, and the young girl was very nervous. She stood, half fainting, at the wings, feeling sure of nothing except certain failure, and stepped on the stage with despair on her agitated face and in her heart. Scene after scene she went tlirough almost me- chanically, and her failure seemed sealed. But all at once, upon commencing the polacca " Son Vergin," her recklessness caused her to forget everything, and she sang the exquisite air as her audience had never before heard it sunsf. As she concluded, a rapturous burst of applause utterly bewildered her. She was encored, and as she concluded the air the second time, she felt all her fears dispelled, for she knew she had fulfilled the dream of her life, and had succeeded. When the CATHERINE HAYES. 393 curtain fell, she was enthusiastically called before it, whilst bouquets were showered vipon her by the dehVhted audience. " Lucia di Lammcrmoor" was the next opera in which she aj^peared, and in which she also scored a success. Signer Provini offered her an engage- ment at the Opera in Paris, but she declined, and returned to Milan, there to further prosecute her studies. The same year she played at La Scala, being then but seventeen, and the youngest artiste who had ever filled the position of prima donna at that vast theatre. Miss Hayes was at first not very successful at La Scala, owing to her extreme nervousness. " La Sonnambula" was the first occa- sion upon which she pleased her audience there ; and in " Otello" she made such a charming Des- demona that the musif^-loving Milanese gave her the name of "La Perla del Teatro." From Milan she went to Vienna, thence to Venice, where she made her appearance in a new opera, composed expressly for her by a young Italian nobleman. The music of this production was indifferent, the singers worse. " The audience received the opera with chilling silence, and when Cattarina entered in the middle of the first act, she found the house in a horribly bad humour. At sight of her fair, young face, however, and on hearing the clear tones of her 39-t ILLUSTRIOUS IBISHWOMEN. sweet soprano, the anger of the audience gradually disappeared ; and although Catherine could not save the piece from condemnation, she rescued it for this one night. She then appeared as Lucia, with great success. During the rondo of the third act the audience was so silent that (said the Figaro of Venice) the buzzing of a fly might have been heard ; and at the close of the opera Miss Hayes was called twice on the stage, and applauded for nearly ten minutes. In ' Linda di Chamouni' she was not only completely successful, but was the cause of a little tlieatrical uproar. At Venice, the law regardmg theatres prohibits any artiste, at any theatre, from appearing before the curtain more than thrice in compliance with a call from the audience ; but when Miss Hayes had retired at the end of the opera, on this occasion, the excited crowd shouted for her to come forward a fourth time. The young prima donna dared not venture to disobey the police regulations ; and the excitement then became terrific, the audience asseverating that if she did not appear as many times as they chose to call for her they would tear down the theatre; it was judged advisable to yield to their wishes, and, when she finally appeared, she was covered with flowers."* * Vide " Queens of Song," vol. i. p. 284. GATREEINE HAYES. 395 A series of brilliant successes in the various continental cities followed this, and in April, 1849, Catherine Hayes sang for the first time in the Royal Italian Opera, London, llcr fellow artistes were Mesdames Grisi, Persiani, and Brambilla ; Signori Mario, Salvi, the two Lablaches, and Tamburini ; and her salary for the season was 1300^. Donizetti's " Linda di Chamouni" was the piece selected for her first aj^pearance in London. Much to her surjjrise, the audience received her with a rapturous burst of applause, which at first completely unnerved her. As the play proceeded, she never sang or acted so well in her life, and her audience were not slow to perceive that she was ovcrcomo by sonic powerful emotion. When the curtain fell, her fellow-singers soon divined the cause, for the brilliant young prima donna was found in a private box, sobbing forth tears of gratitude at the feet of her first and early friend, the Bishop of Limerick. Miss Hayes played important parts during the season, always caUing forth warm eulogiums both from her audience and from the press. Towards the close of the season, the Irish prima donna had the honour of singing before Her Majesty at a State Concert given at Buckingham Palace. The Queen entered into conversation with her, said she had heard of her career, complimented her upon 396 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. hex deserved success, and introduced her to Prince Albert, who predicted future and greater honours for her. All this time " the Irish Lind," as she was called, had not revisited her native land, so that, after an absence of seven years, when she was announced to appear at one of the Dublin Phil- harmonic Concerts, a crowded house was the result, and she was received with a truly Irish welcome, which threw all continental ones into the shade. Her second appearance in Dublin was at the Theatre Royal ; and the following account of the performance appeared soon after in 27ie Dublin University Magazine : — " The opera was ' Lucia di Lammermoor,' the Edgar do of the evening being Signer Pagliere, an unknown performer. His ludicrous inefficiency elicited shouts of laughter, with a variety of ingenious mimicries from the wags among the audience — the manifestations of disapprobation for him being blended with loud applause for the frightened debutante. In the midst of this uproar and noise, a more glaring breakdown than befove on Edgardo's part was followed by a hurricane of ' cat-calls,' Miss Hayes, with wonderful self-posses- sion, curtsied to that unfortunate gentleman, and left the stage. " The curtain was then rung down, and an in- CATHERINE HAYES. 397 describable scene .of tumultuous excitement fol- lowed ; cheers, groans, laughter, hisses, forming a very Babel of discord. Mr. Sims Reeves — who, with Mr. Whitworth, Miss Lucombe, and an English Opera Company, had terminated an engagement the day of Miss Hayes's coming — occupied a private box, and sat during all this turmoil full in view of the audience. He was quickly recognised, and shouts of ' Reeves 1 Reeves!' rose from nearly every part of the house. The lessee, Mr. Calcraft, on this came forward, and intimated that ' he had then no control over Mr. Reeves, whose engagement had termmated, and who, on being asked to sing on tliis emergency, had positively declined.' Mr. Reeves instantly sprang to his feet, leaned out of the box, and on obtaining a partial silence, said, in no very tem- perate tones : ' Ladies and gentlemen, I will sing to oblige you, but not to oblige Mr. Calcraft.' On wliich the lessee, in the blandest tones, concluded the first act of unpleasantness in these words : ' I am not angry, I assure you, that Mr. Reeves has declined to sing to oblige me ; but I am gratified to find that he has consented to do so to please tlie audience, and doubly gratified because, under the untoward circumstances, he will support your gifted and distinguished young country- woman.' 398 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. "After the necessary delay of dressing, &c,, the curtain again rose, and the opera proceeded, Mr. Reeves performing Edgar better than on any former occasion in this city, and Miss Hayes nerving herself so fully for her task that no trace of tremulousness, no shadow of the agitating scene through which she had passed, marred the beauty of her singing and acting. At the termination of each act they were both called before the curtain, and when the opera concluded their presence was again and again demanded, amid the most furious waving, not only of hats and liancllcercliiefs, but of canes and umbrellas. The curtain having finally descended, the lessee came forward, Mr. Reeves also appearing at the wing, and still in the costume of Edgardo. This occasioned a renewal of the uproar, but mutual explanations ensued, and the singer and manager shook liands upon the stage. This unfortunate disturbance had nearly proved fatal to the success of the first appearance of Catherine Hayes in the metropolitan theatre of her birthplace ; that success being thus suddenly imperilled and so nearly marred, it is not sur- prising that Miss Hayes should refer to this incident as the most painful throughout her entire cai-eer." After this short enofaf>;ement in Dublin, where her Norma was enthusiastically received, she went CATHERINE HAYES. 399 on a provincial tour, visiting her native city of Limerick, delighting her old friends with her glorious voice. In 1850 she again visited Ireland, returning to London for the opera season at Her Majesty's Theatre. But she worked too hard. Not gifted with as strong a physique as a brain, her health began to give way, and during the summer and autumn she was obliged to rest and recruit herself x\.s soon as ever she was able to resume her professional duties Miss Hayes went on a tour through Ireland again, creating an excite- ment not one whit less than the famous " Lmd mania" of 1847. A series of provincial en- gagements in England followed, and then the Irisli singer went to sing at the Carnival in Rome. All over ilie Continent of Europe the name of " the Irish Lind" was well known. Both in England and Ireland, as well as in every con- tinental city, she had sung successfully, and she longed for a wider sphere in which to display her abilities. Accordingly, she projected and com- menced the most extraordinary tour that had then ever been undertaken by an artiste. It was no less than to circumnavigate the globe, singing at all the chief cities. So she left England for New York in 1851, accompanied by Mr. Augustus Braham and Ilerr Menghis. Her visit to New 400 ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHWOMEN. York was nearly a failure, owing to bad manage- ment. In this difficulty Mr. Every Buslinell, a famous electioneering agent, seeing where the mistake lay, came forward and offered himself as the manager of her tour. Miss Hayes was losing heavily, so she, in despair, accepted this offer, which she found no reason ever to regret. So wonderful a professional tour was never made before nor since, as the following business record of it will show : — " December, 1851, she was at Philadelphia ; she arrived at San Francisco, November, 1852, and was singing in California in 1853. Her success in this region was marvellous ; fabulous sums were paid for the choice of seats, and one ticket sold for 1150 dollars. She then departed for South America, and after visiting the principal cities, embarked for tlie Gold Fields of Australia. She gave concerts in the Sandwich Islands, and arrived in Sydney, January, 1854. From Sydney she went to Melbourne and Adelaide. At Melbourne she became such a favourite that when she an- nounced her departure a petition most numerously signed was presented to her, begging her to con- tinue her performances for some time. From Adelaide she went to India, giving concerts in Calcutta and Singapore. March, 1855, she gave, in aid of the Patriotic Fund, a concert which GATEERINE HAYES. 401 realised upwards of 200/. She then went to Batavia, and in the capital of Java she created an immense sensation. From thence sjie turned her steps to Port Pliilip, revisited Melbourne and Sydney, appeared at the Bendigo Goldfields, and sang at Hobart Town and Launceston. She then re-embarked for England in the Royal Charier, arriving at Liverpool, August, 185G, after an absence from England of five years." The following October Miss Hayes Qiarried Mr. Every Bushnell, the enterprisuig manager of her tour. After her marriage she sang and played, still retaining licr maiden name. ITer husband, wlio had been delicate for some time, became n. confirmed invalid a, \'Q,\y years after their mar- riage. For the sake of liis health they even- tually fixed their residence at Biarritz, where he died. Mrs. Bushnell returned to England, but the enormous fatigue she had undergone at last began to tell upon a never over-strong frame. On Sunday, August the 11th, 1861, she quietly died at Syden- ham, in the zenith of her fame, and at the early age of thirty- three. The professional career of Catherine Hayes has been at once one of the shortest, one of the most brilliant, and one of the greatest pecmiiary suc- VOL. I. D D 402 ILLUSTRIOUS IBISHWOMEN. cesses upon record. At lier death she left projjerty to the amount of 1G,000/. UnHke the generahty of her countrypeople, Catherine Hayes was espe- cially shrewd in business matters, and fond of money, even to parsimony. In no department of vocal music did Catherine Hayes's exquisite voice sound to such perfection as when singing Irish ballads. Her rendering of Mrs, Norton's " Kathleen Mavourneen" has been said to have boon perfectly entrancing from tlie witching sweetness of the singer's voice. Tlu'ough her magical singing of the national Iri.sli aii's she exercised a spell over her Iiish audiences, for since the days of Catherine Stephens no singer had swayed them as did their gifted country- woman, Catherine Hayes. INDEX TO THE FIRST VOLUME. {The names of Plays are printed in Italics.) A BBESS of Cill-Dara, 4 -"■ Abbey of BalUntobber Carra, 102 Abercorn, Earl of, 111 Abingdon, Mrs., 298, 305, 306, 338, 339 Abingdon, the, 365 Academy, Royal Irisli, 14, 16, 88, 91 Actreasefi, ]*'ainoii3, 119 Acliy-Eolacliair, 14 Ack'iaido, 400 Adonis, 225 Aedh-Ruadh, 10 Aeifi, 53 Aengus-Mor, 33 Aengus Mac-Mog, 100 Ages, Middle, 71 Agra, 86 Agrippa, Cornelius, 85 Ailill, 17, 19, 20, 21, 22, 30 Ailill's Bull, 26 Ailbe, Saint, of Emly, 39 Ainsi va Ic Monde, 278 Albans, St., 78 Albaines, 65 Alcanor, 160, 161 All Souls' Eve, 86 All's well that ends well, 133 Alloy, Sinock, 153, 166, 237, 288, 303, 336, 355 All in the Wron/j, 345 Almeria Carpenter, Lady, 245 Amazonian Queen, 29 America, North, 246 America, Soutl), 400 Anacreontic Society, 389 Andromache, 145, 154, 186 Anderson, Mr., 380 Anglo-Norman Invasion, 4 Anglo-Norman troops, 94 Anglo-Norman tribes, 95 Anglo-Norman cliiof, 96 Anglo-Norman settlors, 103 Angelica, 350 Anjou, Margaret of, 368 Anncslcy, Mr., 380 Anna Donna, 183 Ansdell, Mrs., 183 Antonio Sapio, Signer, 389 Antony, 215, 219 Antonius, INIarcus, 48 Apostle of Ireland, 40 Apology, 176, 176 Apparent, lloir, 263 Apphia J'oacli, 259 Apollo, 157 Arch Brehon, 68 Archdall, 106 Ardrigh, 45 Arran, Isles of, 92 Arthur Murphy, 122 Arsinoc, 194 Arragon, Catherine of, 79 Argetmar, King, 14 Assumption, F. ast of the, 66 Asjmsia, 139, 194, 195 As You Like It, 170, 302 Ath-Cumair, 16 Ath-Luain, 27 B D 2 404 INDEX. Ath-M6r, 27 Alhboy, 106 Athlone, 27 Atlantic Coiifit, 90 Athenais, 188 Audley Street, North, 202 Auugier Street Theatre, 288 Australia, 400 Ayscough, George, 245, 252 BABYLON, Queen of, 148 Bacon, Lord, 78 JUile, na-h-iiisi, 95 Bald, the, 74 Ballintobber Carra, 102 Bailygiblin, 384 Bangor, 209 Bansheo, 25 J'.annister, 342 /iarber of Seville, 334 Ilarlicv, Sixmiufi, 334 Barbara Villicrs, 3 Barony of Murasky, 100 Baroness 0])haly, 104 Baniea, Miss Betty, 124 Barry, 151, 211, 215, 231 Barry more, 346 Barriiigton, Mrs., 173 Barriiigton, Master, 124 Bay, Newport, 93 Battle royal, 148 Beau Bruinrnel, 244 Beaniibli, Master, 124 Beansidhe, 25 Beautified Ophelia, 213 Beauties of the (!ourt, 113 Beauty, Queen of, 9 Beaumont and l''letcher, 194 Beecher, Lady Wrixou, 301, 385 Boecher, Wrixon, 378, 382 Beochor, 383 heceiier, W., 379, 380 Jkcknell, 275 Beefsteak ( 'lub, 157 Beijgar's Opera, the, 174 Bellamy, 124, 148, 176, 177, 195, 197, 199, 207, 208, 209, 210, 211, 213, 214, 215, 221, 222, 223, 224, 225, 226, 230, 231, 233, 236, 237, 238,' 239, 240, 241, 243, 343 Bellamy, G. A., 144, 145, 146, 147, 184, 185, 186, 188, 194, 227, 228, 229 Bellamy, Captain, 179, 180 Belvldcra, 225, 226, 230, 368, 384 Belinda, 133, 345 Bendigo Goldfields, 401 Betsy, Miss, 250, 251 Bcrlntlda, 133 Beverley, Mrs., 384 Birch Collection, 77 Bishop of Limerick, 387, 395 IJishop of Osnaburg, 2G7 Black Oak, 92 Bland, ISlra., 153, 154 Bhmd, Dorothy, 302 Blanche, 195 Blessington, Earl of, 178 Blessington, Lord, 179 Blue-eyed Bellamy, 175 Boaden, 303, 311, 316 Bohadil, 239 ]$olt Court, 309 Bookey, Mr., 380 J5ook of Ballymott, 32 Book of Kildaro, 39 Book, 'J'able, 77 Borough of the O'Maileys, 92 Borriahoole, 92 Bourk, na Long, 102 Bourke, Sir Bichard, 96 Boy, Hugh O'Neill, 70 Bow china, 293 15rady, MrH., 309 Brufjanza, Kullierine of, 112 l^aham, Augustus, 399 Brambilla, 395 Brendans, 67 Brereton, Mr. Wm., 253 Bi'eeyith, Bridget, 3 BreHhi, 49 Breffiii, Prince of, 48 lireli'ny. Prince of, 4, 45, 51 Brellny, Princess of, 45, 46 Brchon, Arcii, 68 Hrohon, IjawH, 13, 98 Brehon, of Oiialy, 67 Bretons, 67 Bunowen, 95 Brigit, 38, 41 Brigit, isles of, 40 Brigit, Saint, 4, 33, 34, 39, 42 lirighit, Brighid, 4 Bristol, 246, 294 Bristol ware, 293 British Museum, 77, 226, 269, 273, 376 INDEX. 405 British Museum Library, 130 Britain Street, 226 Broad Street, 202, 204 Brontere, Mr. Osmond, 326, 327 Brown, Sir Anthony, 36, 37, 87 Bruce, Robert, 57 Ih-H.lc, Ladtf, 133 IJryan, L.'uly Mary, 84 Buckingham Palace, 309 Burlingtoa Countess of, 151 Burlington J^ardens, 276 Burge, De, 56 Burgoyne, General, 344 Burney, Dr., 287 Burke, 381 Burren, 12 Burroughs, 327, 320, 330, 331, 332, 333 Beersheba, 353 Bushe, Mr., 380 Bushes, 379 Bushey, 181 Bushnell, Mrs., 401 Bushnell, Evory, 400 Butler, Hon. Mr., 211, 212, 214, 219, 220, 221, 222 Butler, 377 Butlers, 378 Uyron, Lord, 199, 200, 202, 205, 20G, 228 Byron, 3(58 /1ADWALLADER, Bonny Dame, 296 ^ Careless, 318 Civsar, 218 Calcraft, Mr., 233, 234, 397 Calcutta, 400 California, 400 Valuta, 138, 363 Calvach O'Couor, Gl, 03, G4, 05, 6G, 70 Cambrensis, Giraldus, 37, 40, 42, 45, 47, 54 Campion, Maria, 354, 355, 357, 361 Canada, 377 Candour, Mrs., 351 Canterbury, 376 Canterbury Tales, 4 Canterbury Tales, New, 230 Canlred of Chuailgnd, 23 Cape Clear, 40 Captain Machcath, 124 Carbri Niadh, 33 Cardinal Pandjdph, 195 Countess of Cardingtou, 196, 197 Careless Husband, the, 133 Carew, Lord of, 53 Carlisle, Miss, 374 Carlos, 141 Car|>enter, Lady Almeria, 245 Carnaby Market, 202 Carnival, 399 Carrick-on-Shannon, 47 Carrigahowly Castle, 93, 94 Castalio, 211 Castle Dublin, 226 Castle of Otranto, 290 Castle, Ormonde, 377 Castleni.iine, Lady, 3, 112 Castlcniaino, Lord, 2 Catherine of Arra;/on, 79 Catherine Hayes, 386 Catherine .Ste|>hens, 402 Catiey, Miss, 242 Cato, 195 Cattle Spoil or Cattle Plunder of Cuailgn^, 3 Causeway, Giant's, 40 Cecilia, 337 Cecily, Fitzgerald, Lady, 84 Cecily, Lady, 83 Cr.lla, 170, 195, 311 Cell of the Oak, 34 Celtic History, 31 Celtic Tcmpcraiucnt, 121 Cenngoba, 100 Chamont, 211 Chapter of Accidents, 230, 237 Charlotte, Queen, 352 Charlotte Rusport, 335, 365 Charles James Fox, 340 Charles Kemble, 361 Charles Surface, 351 Charles Cormick, 89 Charles II., 2, 110, 111, 116 Charles Churchill, 295 Charter, Royal, 401 Chaucer, 4 Chelsea china, 295 Cheltenham, 312 Chest, Iron, 350 Chesterfield, Lord, 177, 198, 215, 220, 221 Chester, 209, 306, 331, 332 Checrly, Widow, 375 Chevalier de Grammont, 115 Cholmondely, 173 406 INDEX. Chicken Gloves, 234 Chief Justice Whitchell, 123 Chief Justice, J^onl, 353 Christ, 32 Christ Church, Dublin, 54 Christian Female Education, 4 Christmas Eve, 323 Christmas Pantomime, 328 Chuailgiie, Brown Bull of, 23 Chuailgnd, Donn, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27 Chuailgnc^, T:lin-Bo, 19, 21, 31 Cibber, 132, 151, 231 Cibber, Mrs., 152, 237 Cibber, Theophilus, 285 Cibber, Susanna, 197 Cibber, Colley, 153, 195, 285, 286,287 CiU-Dara, 4, 34, 42 Citken, The, 376 City of Dublin, 122 Clanrickarde, 96 Clare Island, 93, 101 Clarence, Lionel, Duke of, 57, 310, 311, 312, 316 Clarissa, 168 Clarges Street, 277 Cleapatra, 2, 219, 227 Cleveland, Duchess of, 3 Clear Island Abbey, 102 Clieveden, 290, 297 Clifford, 235 Clive, Kitty, 132, 209, 285, 354 Clive, Kitty, in china, 293 Clive, Baron, 287 Clive, Mr. George, 287 Clive, General, 296 Clive, Portly, 297 Clothra, 16, 17 Clothram, Inis, 31 Clontarf, Sheds of, 214 Club, Beefsteak, 157 Club, Garrick, 243 Cloud, St., 315, 316 Clonmacnoise, 17 Connaught, 97, 98 Cobb, James, 346 Cod nor, 81 Coldstream Guards, 177 Coghill. Sir J. C, 380 Colesbill, 104 College, Trinity, Dublin, 39, 187, 225, 238 Colgan, 39 College Boys, 224 Columbkille, 42 Columbines, Queen of, 328, 329 Columb Cille, 100 Colonel Herbert, 79 Colonol Tarleton, 279 Colman, 237, 333, 334, 335, 337 Committee, Tlie, 133 Com|)iaint, Kitty Clive's, 290 Compostelio, St., James of, 62, 64 Comus, 12, 289 Conair^, 32 Conchubar, 30, 32 Conor, 17 Conscious Lovers, The, 127 Constance, 211, 212, 213, 215, 216, 368 Conula, 33 Conn of the Hundred Battles, 34 Connacht, 26, 29 Connaught, 11, 12, 16, 101 Connaught, Lord of, 57 Connaught, C^ueen of, 16, 17 Connaught, Couriers, 24 ('onncmaia, 93 Cooley, 3 Cooper's Benefit, 359 Cojur de Lion, 55 Court, Bolt, 309 Country Girl, the, 304, 809 Country Wife, the, 289 Conrach Kearuach, 30 Cordelia, 35, 133, 233 Cormac, 33 Cork, 302, 322, 370 County of Cork, 29 Cork Street, 276 Cornelius Agrippa, 85 Cornelius Swan, 384 Coronation Anthem, .367 Count de Belgiose, 253 Count de Granimont, 111, 115, 117 Count Haslang, 233, 240 Countess of Desmond, 72, 76, 77, 78, 79 Countess of Burlington, 161 Countess of Derby, 24], 318, 323, 362, 353, 365 Countess of Pembroke, 60, 55 Countess of Tyrconnel, 245 Country Party, 161 Covent Garden Theatre, 129, 132 Covent Garden, 149, 150, 151, 154, 167, 185, 188, 191, 194, 207, 226, 230, 247, 295, 335, 337, 357, 359, 373 INDEX. 407 Crabtree, 351 Crocbin Croderg, 16 Cromwell, 84 Crouch, Mi-A., 342 Crow Street Theatre, 123, 362, 363, 382 Cruachain, 17 Crnacliaiii, Mohh of, 30 Cruiinllioris, 100 Crump, Mr., 209, 225, 239 Crusca, Delia, 278 Curtis, Miss, 380 Curragli of Kildare, 42 Cusack, Miss, 32 Cusack. M. F. Miss, 63 Cymric liards, 68 Cymric vales, 68 TIACIER, 182 -^ Daire Mac-Fiachna, 3, 23 Daly, 802, 304, 306, 309, 315, 355 D'Alton, 62 Dalton, Master, 380 Daly, Mrs., 365 Dame de Palais, 117 Damor, lion. MrH., 340 Dan, 66, 68, ,'553 Danes of Dublin, 47 DanoH, 50, 53 Dangoau, Marciuia do, 117 Daniel, Mrs., 284 Darby, Miss, 246 Darby, Mary, 247 Dar^, 24, 25 Da Sinchell, 66 Daughter of Darius, 148 Dean Swift, 214, 340 DcarbliforgniU, 4, 44, 45 Debt, National, 3 Decies, Lord of, 73 De Grammont, 112, 113, 114, 115, 116, 117 Deirdre, 16 Delia Crusca, 278 D^mosthene, Mons., 347 Detupsies, 108 Dompsoy, Margaret, 101 Drogheda, 361, 362, 363 Derby, Countess of, 241, 318, 323, 350, 353, 365 Deiby, liarl of, 262, 340, 342, 344, 346, 351, 362 Dermot, King of Leinster, 4, 45, 46, 47, 48, 50, 51, 52, 53 Dervorgill, 4, 45, 47, 48 Dcsdcvwna, 357, 359 Desniond,CountfcS3of,72,75,76,77,78,79 Desmond, Earl of, 73, 74 Jkril to Pay, 287, 289 Diuibdara, 92 Dian, 33 Diary, Lady of Quality, 383 Dickens, Charles, 332 Digby, Sir Robert, 104 Digby, Lettice, 104 Digges, 161, 164,233, 240 Dinn-Seanchas, 100 Dithorba, 10, 11, 15 Dixon, Mr., 380 Doctor Johnson, 140, 177 Dog and Duck, 241 Donn Chuailgne, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27 Donna Anna, 183 Dodd, 342 Doodarro O'Mailly, 100 Dorinda, 345 Dorothy Jordan, 302 Dora Jordan, 314 Doran, Dr., 325 Dorset, Lord, 154, 165, 166 Dorsot, Marcptis of, 82 '• Dove," the, 371 Drake, .Sir Francis, 80 Dramatic Censor, 4, 36, 138, 139, 168, 334, 368 Dremni, 33 Dromana, 73 Druid, 25 Drury Lane, 110, 113, 148, 149, 150, 211, 253, 260, 262, 285, 286, 289, 291, 292, 294, 295, 297, 308, 336, 338, 339, 343, 346, 348, 349, 371 Drury, Old, 347 "Drury, Poor Old," 346 Dryden, 343, 345 Dryden's "Virgil." 183 Duahl McFirbis, 65 Dubthach Donn, 33, 34 Dublin, 39, 50, 53, 54, 89, 122, 123, 126, 136, 137, 139, 143, 144, 148, 153, 155, 157, 167, 170, I7ii, 185, 186, 208, 210, 211, 212, 213, 214, 215, 218, 224, 225, 233, 237, 239, 288, 289, 291, 302, 336, 355, 357, 361, 362, 363, 364, 370, 377, 382, 389, 390, 396, 398 408 INDEX. Dublin, Archbishop of, 38 Dublin, Castle of, 74, 75 Dublin Philiiarnionic Concerts, 396 Dublin University Miigazitie, 396 Duchess of Cleveland, 3 Duchess of Leeds, 197 Duchess of Queensberry, 196, 197 Duke of Clarence, 30, 310, 312, 315 Duke of Dorset, 275 Duke of Gloucester, 362 Duke of Richmond, 340 Duko of York, 115, 207, 571, 362 Dunieiisil, Mademoiselle, 144 EAGLE, 371 Edgar, 398 Edgeworth, Miss Maria, 378, 379 Edmund Kean, 368, 372, 374 Edwurdlhe Third,' 57 /■Jdward the Fourlh, 57, 73, 80 Mward the Fifth, 80 Hdward the Sixth, 80 Edward, King, 362 Edwin, Mrs., 365 Edgardo, 396, 398 Egypt, Queen of, 218 Eithn^ 17 Ellen Fitzgerald, 73 Elizabeth, Queen, 2, 79, 89, 92, 101 Elmy, Mrs., 220 Ely, King of, 65 Emhain-Macha, 3, 13 Emliain, 12 Euphrosyne, 289 England, Lord Chief Justice, 353 Englefield Green, 283 English Opera Company, 397 Eochaidh, 16, 17, 33, 34 Eochaidh Feidlech, 17 Epsom, 256 Ere, 100 Ercnat, 100 Erixenc, Princess, 231 Errus, 89 Erris, 68 Essex, 207, 376 Ethni, 17 Eughter, MacWilliam, 96 Euter, 97 European Magazine, 243 Europe, First Gentleman in, 244, 274 Eva, 4, 50, 53, 54, 65, 57 Eve, 2, 191 Eve, All Soul's, 86 Eve, Christmas, 323, 328, 329 Eveleen, 62 Evelyn, 110 Every Woman in her Humour, 294 Eyretz, Miss, 380 TjiACHTNA, 23 ^ Faery Land, 28 FaiJry Queon, 29 Fair Gcraldino, 81, 83, 84, 86,87 Fair Penitent, 303 Fanciful Lady, 335 Farren, Miss Eliza, 263, 308, 309, 318, 319, 320, 321, 322, 323, 324, 325, 326, 328, 329, 330, 332, 333, 336, 337, 338, 339, 342, 343, 344, 345, 346, 347, 349, 350, 351, 352, 353, 365 Fanen, William, 318, 322, 337 February, 42, 126 Feiillimidh the Legal, 33 Feline, 70 Fenton, 194 Figaro, 394 • Findabhar, 19, 25 Finnbheannach, 22, 26, 27 Finisk River, 74 Fingal, 179, 180 Finola, 70 Finvarra, 68 Fish Street Hill, 284, 285 FitzGerald, 53 Fiiz-Stephen, 53 Fitzgerald, Lady Katherine, 73 Fitzgerald, Sir John, 73 Fitzgerald, Lady Elizabeth, 83 Fitzgerald, Lady Cicely, 84 Fitzgerald, Percy, 282, 301 Fitzgeralds, Lord Henry, 85, 340 Fitzgeralds, George Robert, 253, 257, 258 Fitz-Maurice, James, 75 Fitz-John, John, 75 Fitz-William, Walter, 77 Flanders, 177 Fleming, Mr., 380 Fleetwood, 149 Fletcher, Beaumont and, 194 Florizel, 270, 278 Foote, 148, 149, 236 Fotharda, 33 Forbaide, 17 INDEX. 409 Ford, Mr., 314 Foundlln^i of the Forest, 366 Four Masters, 30, 70 Fownes Street, 123, 124, 125 Fox, Mr., 147, 148, 233, 262, 278 Fox, Charles James, 340 Francis, ]\[is,q, 302 Frauciscati Priory, 71, 78 Fionn-Uioga, 74 Furnival, Mrs., 212, 216, 217, 220 GALWAY, 94, 97 Garrett 7.') Garriclc, 124, 132, 13.% 134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 140, 143, \\r), 149, ir)0, 151, 167, 185, 18(!, 188, 209, 211, 212, 21.3, 214, 230, 231,233, 243, 260, 283, 289, 291, 292, 293, 294, 29.5, 298, 299, 332 Garrick Club, 127 Garbois, Mr. Henry, 370 Garcia, Manuel, 391 GayJovc, Lady Emily, 344 Geashill, 104, 105 GenoRte (quoted), 16(i (idiiUcniMii'H M;i,;.;ir/,ino, 301 (lOorgo's Court, 122 , Gerald, 53 Gerald, 9tli Earl, 82 Gerald, 11th Earl, 83 Gerald, 14th Earl, 83 Geraldine, 73, 74, 75, 84 Geraldines, Munster, 62 Geraldine the Fair, 81, 83, 84, 85, 87 Geraldines, 104 Giraldus Canibrensis, 37, 38, 39, 40, 42, 45, 47, 54 Giant's Causeway, 40 Gilbert, Sir Humphrey, 89 Gilbert, Earl of Peml)roke, 52 Gildas, 39 Gille-na-iiajmh MacEgan, 66, 67 Glasgow, 306 Glanmalero, Lewis, 106, 107, 108 Gloucester, Earl of, 56 Gloucester, Duke of, 73, 362 Goodwood, 141 Goldsmith, Oliver, 288, 333 Gospels, copy of, 39 Gossip, S.iint, 111 Goatling, Mrs., 300 Grace of tlie Gamesters, 88 Grammont, Count de, 110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 11.5, 116, 117 Grana-na-Garrugh, 102 Grany-i-Mally, 97 Graina na g Cearbbach, 88, 89 Grana Wail, 88 Grainne O'Mailly, 88, 89, 90, 92, 94, 96, 97, 98, 100, 102, 103 Grattan, 379 Grecian, 31 Greece, 1 Grcemoood Laddie, 303 Grevillo, Sir Hiclianl, 109 Grey, Lady Elizabeth, 82 Grey, Sir John, 82 Groy, Lady .lane, 152 Giey, Lord Leonard, 85 Grisi, 395 Gunnings, 225, 226, 247 Gyles, Mr., 380 TTALE, 190 -•-'- Hagley, 255 Ualler, Mrs., 375, 376, 384 Hamilton, Sir George, 111 Hamilton, Miss Elizabeth, 111, 112, 113, 111, 115, 11(1, 117 liamilt.m. Lady, 309 J I It lid ct, 299, 326 Hampton, 293 Hawkins, Miss, 280 Hazlitt, 314 Hardcastle, Miss, 333 Harnet, Mr , 77 Harri.s, Mr., 248, 249, 250, 251, 372 Hartley, Mrs., 263 Hatton Garden, 252, 255 Hayes, Catherine, 386, 393, 395, 398, 401 Ilayniarket, 333, 335, 346 Hebrides, the, 40 Jlclen, 350 Helen of Ireland, 44 Helen of Troy, 2 Herbert, Colonel, 79 Henry ir, 51, 52 Henry VIL, 80 Henry VIIL, 38, 80, 82, 84 Henry, Earl of Surrey, 83 Ilermiove, 154, 186, 263 Highgate, 381 Hill Street, 254 Hitchcock, 143, 210, 355,356, 361 410 INDEX. Holinshed, 82 Kildare, Earl of, 81 Holyliead, 209 Kildare, House of, 104 Hubiiit Town, 401 Kilduro 'I'huidre, 379, 381 Iloratia, 373 Kilkenny, 56, 284, 377, 378 Houiislow Heath, 275 Killucan, 81 Howth,50, 101,214 Kimbaoth, King, 10 Huusdon, 83, 84 King John, 195, 211, 212 Hyde Park, 277, 280 Kingston, 398 Knox, Uishop of Limerick, 387, 395 "TLIAD, 1, 44, 183 -L Iuchl)iild, Mre., 304, 3 38 T A Perla del 'J'eatro, 393 ■^ La Scala, 393 Inchiquin, Castle of, 74, 76 luchiquin, Manor oi, 74 La Sonnambulu, 393 India, 400 Lablaches, Signori, 395 Inia, Clothram, 31 Lady Aim, 380 Iniiisfail, 69 Lady Betty Modish, 136 Inis, Gluair, 69 Lady Emily Gaylove, 344 Isuhdla, 368 Lady Jane Grey, 152 Lady Lovcwell, 149 Lady Marbctit, 298, 368 TACKSON, Mrs., ISS, " James 1., 80 188, 194, 201 Lady Randoli>h, 139, 368 Lady Jicsllesii. 373 James 11., 284 Lady S nci.ru- ell, 351 James, Mrs., 316 Lady Teazle, 309, 338, 339 James, liarl of Ahercorn , 111 Lady Townly, 149, 154, -^21, 289, 320 Jane Shore, 154, 213, 358, 369 Lacy, Hugo de, 56 Jeplison, 225 Launceston, 401 Jerome, Saint, 38 Lely, Sir Peter, 113, 115 Jerniyn Street, 297 Lettice, Baroness Ophaly, 108 Johnson, Dr., 140, 177, 309 Lee, Mrs., 144 Johnson, Miss, 285, 380 Lee, John, 230 Jones, 362, 363, 364 Lee, Misses, 230, 337 Jones's, 198 Leeds, Duchess of, 197 Jordan, Mrs., 303, 308, 311, 312, 314, Leeds 'J'heatre, 303, 336 317, 342 Leicester, Earl of, 77 Jordan, Waters of, 304 Leicester Street, 229 Julia Hardy, 343 Leicester Fields, 229 Juliet, 357, 358, 364 Leiuster, 33, 34, 35, 40 Leinster, King of, 4, 20, 41, 47 Lennox, Lord Wm., 368 T7-ATHERINE, Lady, -•-^ Kavanat^li, 53 72, 74 Lethe, 293 Limerick, Earl of, 387, 388 ICavanagli, Miss, 380 Lincoln, lOarl of, 87 Kean, Edmund, 374 Linda di Ohaniouni, 394 Kells, 25, 39 Lionel, Duke of Clarence, 57 Kelly, 223, 224 Lisbon, 180 Kemble, Mrs. John, 386 Little Strawberry Hill, 290, 296 Kemble, John, 336, 342, 343, 349, 350, Lobkowitz, Prince, 197 370, 371, 375 Loch Ribh, 30 Kew Palace, 271 London, 78, 81, 98, 214, 304, 377 Kildare, 37, 40 Londres, Henry de, 38 Kildare, The Book of, 39 Lord Townly, 149 Kildare, Curragh of, 42 Louche, Sir- John, 81 INDEX. 411 Louth, County of, 81 Lucan, 81 Lucas's Coffee House, 224 Lucia (It Lammcrmoor, 393, 396 Lucombe, Miss, 397 Lyttelton, Lord, 252, 253, 254, 255, 259 TVIAC-FIACHNA, 3 -'■'^ MacFloinn, King of Meath, 45 Maclloth, 22, 23 Macha, Queen, 5, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Magazine, Gentleman's, 243, 359 Magazine, Scots', 243 Magazine, European, 243 Magazine, Dublin University, 396 Mahomet, 161 Mahomet Riot, 167 Maidenhead, 312 Maiden, Lord, 265, 266, 267, 268, 271, 276, 277 Mallow, 382, 384 Mansfield, Lord, 233 Maria, 320, 355, 376 Mario, 390 Marianne, 194 Miulborongh Stroot, 205 Marseilles, 392 Mary, 32 Mary, qavon of Scots, 79, 83 Maryloljone, 281 Mayo, Viscount, 100, 102 McFirbis, 62, 65 M^ave, Queen, 3, 5, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 25, 30, 31 Medlicott, Mr., 222 Melbourne, 400, 401 Mellifont, 47 Melpomene, 376, 386 Menghis, Herr, 399 Metham, Sir George, 199, 200, 228, 231, 232, 233, 234 Methodist Preacher, 307 Merry, Mr. Eobert, 278 Meyer, Mr., 268 Milan, 392, 393 Millamant, 320 Moody, 342 Molly, Mrs., 249, 251 Molyneux, Sir Francis, 253 Monimia, 189, 191, 355, 356, 357 More, Hannah, 247 Moore, Thomas, 11, 48 Moore, Zachary, 207 Moore, Tom, 368, 371 Mossop, 237, 239, 240 Mrs. Oakley, 375 Muckross, 79 Munstcr, Earl of, 315 Murasky, l?aiony of, 100 Museum, British, 226, 259 IVTATIONAL Debt, 3 J-^ Neptune, 215 Newport Bay, 93 Night Tliouglita, 232 Nonjuror, 167 Norma, 398 Normans, the, 53 Norman Conquest, 44 Norman Knight, 44, 56 Norman, William the, 44 North Audley Street, 202 North America, 246 Ny-Maill(^, 83 A'BYRNE, Captain, 253 ^ O'Caroll Thady, King, 65 O'Carroll, 61, 70 O'Carroll, Miss Margaret, 61, 62, 63, 61, (19, 70, 71 O'Carroll, (Jrainno, 88, 89, 90, 94, 96, 102, 103 O'Cleary, 61 O'Connor, King Roderick, 45, 46, 47, 51, 56 O'Donuell, Elizabeth, 89 O'Donovan, John, 88 O'Driscoll, 62 Odyssey, 1 O' Flaherty, 94 O'Hara, Jobn, 176 O'Hara, Mrs., 211, 221 Oldfield, Mrs., 154 Old Adam, 328 Old Mother Redcap, 328 Old Parr, 78 O'Mailly, Owen, 92 O'Neill, Miss, 360, 362, 364, 365, 366, 307, 368, 369, 370, 371, 374, 375, 377, 378, 379, 380, 381 O'Neill, John, 377 O'Neill, Charles, 377 O'Neill, Robert, 377 Ophelia, 126, 367 412 INDEX. Ormonde Castle, 377 O'Hourke, Prince of BrefFny, 45, 46, 51 Oirei-y, Countess of, 153 Othello, 187 Otranto, the Castle of, 290 Oxford Street. 202 PAGANISM, 37 -*- Pagliere, Signor, 369 Palmer, 342, 346, 351 Palmer, Roger, 2 Pall Mall, 280 Pantheon Rotunda, 244, 252 Parsons, 342, 347 Patrick, Saint, 37 Patriotic Fund, 400 Peach, Mrs. Apphia, 259 Peggy, 304, 305 I'emhroko, lOarl of, 66 Pembroke, Countess of, 65 Pepys, 111, 112 Porclita, 204, 270, 278, 281, 282, 283, 312, 336 Persiani, Madam, 395 Philadelphia, 400 Philip, Sir, 97 Pierre, 238, 239 I'ohjdore, 190 tolly Peachum, 124 Pope, Mr., 177, 182,354,358 I'ope, 296 I'ope, Maria, 302, 359 I'ope, Miss, 342, 351 I'orter, Mrs., 154 Portia, 209 Portsmouth, 206 Power, Mrs. John, 378 Power, Richard, 380 Pritchard, Mrs., 150, 170 Protestants, 105 Provini,' Signor, 392 I lye, Mrs., 180 Rye, Captain, 180 Pyrrhus, 186 QUEENSBERRY House, 196, 198 Queensberry, Duchess of, 197 Quin, Mr., 132, 151, 152, 188, 189, 190, 191, 193, 195, 232 Quin, Mrs., 201 RAFTOR, William, 284, 300 Raftor, Kitty, 285 Raleigh, Sir Wjilter, 75, 76, 89 Redclytfe, Saint Mary, 246 Reeves, Mr. Sims, 397, 398 Remus, 1 Reynohls, Sir Joshua, 297, 309 Rhea, Silvia, 1 Rich, Mr., 129, 167, 108, 188,189,191, 192, 208, 226, 229 Richard III., 293, 362 Richard the Third, 380 Richard CuDur de Lion, 55 Richmond, 231, 256 Robinson, Miss, 248, 250 Rolanson, Mr., 248, 251, 252, 254, 255 257 Robinson, Mrs., 252, 259, 261, 262, 264, 273, 274, 275, 277, 278, 279, 283 Robinson, Sir Tliomaa, 141 Roman Church, 65 Romanzini, JNliss, 153 ]lomu, 1 Romeo and Jidiet, 29, 260, 364, 371 Romulus, 1 Ronconi, Signor, 391 Rosalind, 170, 171, 345 Rosciad, 295 Ross-Ruadh, 18 Rowleigh, Sir Walter, 78 Ruth, 133 Rutland, 372 Ryan, Mr., 189, 190 V^AINT Cloud, 316 ^-^ Saint George's Chapel, 87 Saint James's Street, 280 Saint Martin's Lane, 346 Salisbury, 323, 326, 353 Salisbury, The Mayor of, 234, 323 Salthill, 266 Sandwich islands, 400 San Francisco, 400 Sapio, Signor Antonio, 389. 390 Sarum, The Mayor of, 325 Sayer, Mr. Alderman, 253 School for Scandal, 318, 344 Scott, Sir Walter, 86, 381 Seal, Miss, 179 Serina, 190 Shaftesbury, Lady, 197 Shakspeare, 29, 343 INDEX. 413 Sliannon, 25, 31 She Stoops to Co7tquer, 333 She IVould and She Would Not, 309 Sherklan, 124, 153, 155, 157, 158, 161, 162, 163, 164, 167, 176, 185, 208, 20.0, 211, 21!), 22 1, 260, 338 Sliiol, i;irli:ii(l L.il,)r, 360 Sidilons, Mrs., 301), 342, 344, 360, 371, 374, 381, 382 Singapore, 400 Sir Harry Revel, 273 Sir Harrri Wildair, 143, 149, 157 Sniithfield, 2 Smock Alley, 126, 211, 224, 237, 336, 355 Snodgrass, (.lie Ivcv. Mr., 227 Sonicr.siit House, 111 Soiitli Amoiiai, 100 Soutliainpton, 201 Soutliaiiiptou Street, 204, 205 Southampton 13uildings, 247 Sp.ain, 62, 94 Spanish Barber, 334 Strongbow, Earl, 52, 54, 55 Stewart, Lady Mary, 178 Sullivan, Mr,, 186 Siiett, Mr., 342 Surroy, I'/iri of, S3, 85 Swing, Mr, Ml vSydonliain, 401 Sydney, 400 Syduev, Jlobert, 77 Sydney, Viceroy, 97 Sylvia., 131, 133 rpAIN-BO-CUUAILGNE, 19, 21,31, -L 32 Taileton, C^o!., 279 Tl.alia, 376, 386 Tliames, 98 Theatre, Covent Garden, 129, 132 Theatre, Drury lyanc, 140, 348 Theatre, Waterlbrd, 355 Theatre, Dublin, 357 The Bcrjfjar's Opera, 124 The nri'dhcrs, 231 The Chapter of Accidents, 230, 337 The Chicken Gloves, 234 The Devil to Pay, 289 The Fair Penitent, 303 The Heiress, 344 The Irish Widow, 273, 309 The Lass o Gowrie, 387 The Man of Mode, 133 The Maid's Tragedy, 194 The Merry Wives of Windsor, 371 The Miniature Picture, 273 7'he New Canterbury Tales, 230 The Orphan, 355, 356 7'he Provoked Husband, 221, 335, 350 The Provoked Wife, 335 The Recess, 230 The Recruit inr/ Officer, 130 I'he Revenge, 23l' The Rivals, 350 The Stranger, 375 The West Indian, 335 The Wheel of Fortune, 350 The Winter's Tale, 262 The Virgin Unmashed, 289, 348 'J'i()I)oid-na-IiUng, 08 Tiinour the Tartar, 365 Tower Gate, 08 Townshend, ]Marchiones.s of, 245 Trinity College, 225, 238 Troy, 48 Tivelfih Night, 305 Twickenham, 297 Tyiavvley, T^ady, 178 Tyr.awloy, Lord, 176, 177, 170, 182, 183, 184, 185, 193 TTJ-M-IIAILLE, 92 ^ Ulster, 17, 23, 30, 31, 66 Ulster, Earl of, 56 Ulidians, 14 TTENICE, 303, 394 ' Venice Preserved, 238 Victor, 153, 165 Victoria, (Juceu of Great Britain, 5, 3^, 56, 57 Vienna, 307 Villiers, Barbara, 3 Violanle, Madam, 123, 125 Vitgil, Uryden'8, 183 Vol|)one, 105 Volumnia, 368 WAKEFIELD, 329, 330 Wales 50 Wales, Prince of, 266, 267, 273, 274, 275, 276, 277, 345 Wales, Princess Dowager of, 146 414 INDEX. Walpole, Horace, 226, 290, 294, 306 Wilton, Countess of, 353 Walstein, Miss, 363, 367, 370, 371 Will Havard, 328 Walter, Sir Geoi-e, 180 William III., 284 Warburtoii, Mary, 248 Williams, Sir C. Hanbury, 134 Ward, Mrs., 342 Windsor, 87, 352, 353 Warwick, 104 Windsor Castle, 352 Warwickshire, 109 Woffington, Veq, 121—129, 131, 132— Warniestre, Miss, 110 155, 157, 158, 161, 164, 166—173, Warrens, 235 185, 227, 233, 236, 288, 289, 291, Waterford, 53, 302, 354, 356 292, 293, 305, 320 Wateifdrd 'I'lieatro, 355 AVoflington, John, 122 Welsh Clergyman, 302 Woodville, Elizabeth, 82 Wesley, John, 1C9 Wrighten, 346, 347 Wesley's Hymns, 214 Wrixon, Beecher, Sir, 379, 382, 383 Western Irish, 91 Wrixon. Lady, 385 Wewitzer, 347 Wroughton, 351 Wexford, 62, 56 Whitehall, 2 Whitchell, Lord Chief Justice, 123 yORK, Duke of, 271 -*■ Younge, Miss, 354 While Knight, 73 Whitworlh, Mr., 397 Wilkinson, Mr., 1C8 Wilkinson, Tate, 168, 169, 170, 243, r/irnAPvES, 280 ^ Zorilda, 365 803, 304 Wilson, Mrs., 342 1 ' . . END OF VOL I, 10 L'9'-^ ^ This book is a preservation photocopy. It was produced on Hammermill Laser Print natural white, a 60 # book weight acid-free archival paper which meets the requirements of ANSI/NISO Z39. 48-1992 (permanence of paper) Preservation photocopying and binding by Acme Bookbinding Charlestown, Massachusetts 1995 DATE DUE UNIVERSITY PRODUCTS, INC. #859-5503 BOSTON COLLEGE 3 9031 026 17045 6