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VISITS AND SKETCHES AT HOME AND ABROAD.

VOL. III.






VISITS AND SKETCHES AT HOME AND ABROAD

WITH TALES AND MISCELLANIES NOW FIRST COLLECTED.

BY MRS. JAMESON,

AUTHOR OF "THE CHARACTERISTICS OF WOMEN," "LIVES OF CELEBRATED FEMALE
SOVEREIGNS," &c.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. III.

SECOND EDITION.


  LONDON
  SAUNDERS AND OTLEY, CONDUIT STREET.
  1835.


  LONDON:
  IBOTSON AND PALMER, PRINTERS, SAVOY STREET, STRAND.




CONTENTS OF VOL. III.


                                                                      PAGE

  Sketch of Mrs. Siddons                                                 3
  Sketch of Fanny Kemble                                                49
  The False One                                                         93
  Halloran the Pedlar                                                  177
  The Indian Mother                                                    231
  Much Coin, Much Care                                                 263


VOL. III.

    Page 42, line 5, _for_ the full stop _read_ a comma, and _for_ she had
      _read_ having.

     59,--4, _for_ cannot _read_ could not.




MRS. SIDDONS.


[The following little sketch was written a few days after the death of
Mrs. Siddons, and was called forth by certain paragraphs which appeared
in the daily papers. A misapprehension of the real character of this
remarkable woman, which I know to exist in the minds of many who admired
and venerated her talents, has induced me to enlarge the first very
slight sketch, into a more finished but still inadequate portrait.
I have spared no pains to verify the truth of my own conception by
testimony of every kind that was attainable. I have penned every word as
if I had been in that great final court where the thoughts of all hearts
are manifested; and those who best knew the individual I have attempted
to delineate bear witness to the fidelity of the portrait, as far as it
goes. I must be permitted to add, that in this and the succeeding sketch
I have not only been inspired by the wish to do justice to individual
virtue and talent,--I wished to impress and illustrate that important
truth, that a gifted woman may pursue a public vocation, yet preserve
the purity and maintain the dignity of her sex--that there is no
prejudice which will not shrink away before moral energy, and no
profession which may not be made compatible with the respect due to us
as women, the cultivation of every feminine virtue, and the practice of
every private duty. I might here multiply examples and exceptions, and
discuss causes and results; but it is a consideration I reserve for
another opportunity.]




MRS. SIDDONS


"_Implora pace!_"--She, who upon earth ruled the souls and senses
of men, as the moon rules the surge of waters; the acknowledged and
liege empress of all the realms of illusion; the crowned queen; the
throned muse; the sceptred shadow of departed genius, majesty, and
beauty,--supplicates--_Peace!_

What unhallowed work has been going forward in some of the daily
papers since this illustrious creature has been laid in her quiet
unostentatious grave! ay, even before her poor remains were cold!
What pains have been taken to cater trifling scandal for the blind,
heartless, gossip-loving vulgar! and to throw round the memory of a
woman, whose private life was as irreproachable as her public career was
glorious, some ridiculous or unamiable association which should tend to
unsphere her from her throne in our imagination, and degrade from her
towering pride of place, the heroine of Shakspeare, and the Muse of
Tragedy!

That stupid malignity which revels in the martyrdom of fame--which
rejoices when, by some approximation of the mean and ludicrous with the
beautiful and sublime, it can for a moment bring down the rainbow-like
glory in which the fancy invests genius, to the drab-coloured level of
mediocrity--is always hateful and contemptible; but in the present case
it is something worse; it has a peculiar degree of _cowardly_ injustice.
If some elegant biographer inform us that the same hand which painted
the infant Hercules, or Ugolino, or Mrs. Sheridan, half seraph and half
saint--could clutch a guinea with satisfaction, or drive a bargain with
a footman; if some discreet friend, from the mere love of truth, no
doubt, reveal to us the puerile, lamentable frailties of that bright
spirit which poured itself forth in torrents of song and passion: what
then? 'tis pitiful, certainly, wondrous pitiful; but there is no great
harm done,--no irremediable injury inflicted; for there stand their
works: the poet's immortal page, the painter's breathing canvass witness
for them. "Death hath had no power yet upon _their_ beauty"--over them
scandal cannot draw her cold slimy finger;--on _them_ calumny cannot
breathe her mildew; nor envy wither _them_ with a blast from hell. There
they stand for ever to confute injustice, to rectify error, to defy
malice; to silence, and long outlive the sneer, the lie, the jest, the
reproach. But _she_--who was of painters the model, the wonder, the
despair;--she, who realised in her own presence and person the poet's
divinest dreams and noblest creations;--she, who has enriched our
language with a new epithet, and made the word _Siddonian_ synonymous
with all we can imagine of feminine grace and grandeur: she has left
nothing behind her, but the memory of a great name: she has bequeathed
it to our reverence, our gratitude, our charity, and our sympathy; and
if it is not to be sacred, I know not what is--or ever will be.

Mrs. Siddons, as an _artist_, presented a singular example of the union
of all the faculties, mental and physical, which constitute excellence
in her art, directed to the end for which they seemed created. In any
other situation or profession, some one or other of her splendid gifts
would have been misplaced or dormant. It was her especial good fortune,
and not less that of the time in which she lived, that this wonderful
combination of mental powers and external graces, was fully and
completely developed by the circumstances in which she was placed.[1]
"With the most commanding beauty of face and form, and varied grace
of action; with the most noble combination of features, and extensive
capability of expression in each of them; with an unequalled genius
for her art, the utmost patience in study, and the strongest ardour of
feeling; there was not a passion which she could not delineate; not
the nicest shade, not the most delicate modification of passion, which
she could not seize with philosophical accuracy, and render with such
immediate force of nature and truth, as well as precision, that what
was the result of profound study and unwearied practice, appeared like
sudden inspiration. There was not a height of grandeur to which she
could not soar, nor a darkness of misery to which she could not descend;
not a chord of feeling, from the sternest to the most delicate, which
she could not cause to vibrate at her will. She had reached that point
of perfection in art, where it ceases to be art, and becomes a second
nature. She had studied most profoundly the powers and capabilities of
language; so that the most critical sagacity could not have suggested a
delicacy of emphasis, by which the meaning of the author might be more
distinctly conveyed, or a shade of intonation by which the sentiment
could be more fully, or more faithfully expressed. While other performers
of the past or present time, have made approaches to excellence, or
attained it now and then, Mrs. Siddons alone was pronounced faultless;
and, in _her_, the last generation witnessed what we shall not see in
ours;--no, nor our children after us;--that amazing union of splendid
intellectual powers, with unequalled charms of person, which, in the
tragic department of her art, realized the idea of perfection."

Such was the magnificent portrait drawn of Mrs. Siddons twenty years
ago; and it will be admitted by those who remember her, and must be
believed by those who do not, that in this case, eulogy could not wander
into exaggeration, nor enthusiasm be exalted beyond the bounds of truth.

I have heard people most unreasonably surprised or displeased, because
this exceeding dignity of demeanour was not confined to the stage, but
was carried into private life. Had it been merely conventional,--a thing
put on and put off,--it might have been so; but the grandeur of her
mind, and the light of her glorious beauty, were not as a diadem and
robe for state occasions only; her's was not only dignity of manner
and person, it was moral and innate, and, I may add, hereditary. Mrs.
Siddons, with all her graces of form and feature, her magnificence of
deportment, her deep-toned, measured voice, and impressive enunciation,
was in reality a softened reflection of her more stern, stately,
majestic mother, whose genuine loftiness of spirit and of bearing, whose
rare beauty, and imperious despotism of character, have often been
described to me as absolutely awful,--even her children trembled in her
presence.

"All the Kembles," said Sir Thomas Lawrence, "have historical faces;"
and for several generations their minds seem to have been cast in a
poetical mould. It has, however, been disputed, whether Mrs. Siddons
possessed genius. Whether genius be exclusively defined as the creative
and inventive faculty of the soul, or taken, in its usual acceptation,
as "a mind of large general faculties, accidentally determined to some
particular direction," I think she did possess it in both senses. The
grand characteristic of her mind was power, but it was power of a very
peculiar kind: it was slowly roused--slowly developed--not easily moved;
her perceptions were not rapid, nor her sensations quick; she required
time for every thing,--time to think, time to comprehend, time to speak.
There was nothing superficial about her; no vivacity of manner; to petty
gossip she would not descend, and evil-speaking she abhorred; she cared
not to shine in general conversation. Like some majestic "Argosie,"
bearing freight of precious metal, she was a-ground and cumbrous and
motionless among the shallows of common life; but set her upon the deep
waters of poetry and passion--there was her element--there was her
reign. Ask her an opinion, she could not give it you till she had looked
on the subject, and considered it on every side,--then you might trust
to it without appeal. Her powers, though not easily put in motion, were
directed by an incredible energy; her mind, when called to action,
seemed to rear itself up like a great wave of the sea, and roll forwards
with an irresistible force. This prodigious intellectual power was one
of her chief characteristics. Another was _truth_, which in the human
mind is generally allied with power. It is, I think, a mistaken idea,
that habits of impersonation on the stage tend to impair the sincerity
or the individuality of a character. If any injury is done in this
way, it is by the continual and strong excitement of the vanity, the
dependence on applause, which in time _may_ certainly corrode away the
integrity of the manner, if not of the mind. It is difficult for an
admired actress not to be vain, and difficult for a very vain person to
be quite unaffected, on or off the stage; it is, however, certain that
some of the truest, most natural persons I ever met with in my life,
were actresses. In the character of Mrs. Siddons, truth, and a reverence
for truth, were commensurate with her vast power: Heaven is not
farther removed from earth than she was from falsehood. Allied to this
conscientious turn was her love of order. She was extremely punctual
in all her arrangements; methodical and exact in every thing she did;
circumstantial and accurate in all she said. In little and in great
things, in the very texture and constitution of her mind, she was
integrity itself: "It was," (said one of her most intimate friends,)
"a mind far above the average standard, not only in ability, but in moral
and religious qualities; that these should have exhausted themselves in
the world of fiction, may be regretted in reference to her individual
happiness, but she certainly exercised, during her _reign_, a most
powerful moral influence:--she excited the nobler feelings and higher
faculties of every mind which came in contact with her own. I speak with
the deepest sense of personal obligation: it was at a very early age
that she repeated to me, in a manner and tone which left an indelible
impression,

                     'Sincerity,
  Thou first of virtues! let no mortal leave
  Thy onward path,' &c.


and I never knew her to omit an opportunity of making her fine genius
minister to piety and virtue." Now what are the bravos of a whole
theatre,

  "When all the thunder of the pit ascends,"


compared to such praise as this?

"Her mind" (again I am enabled to give the very words of one who knew
her well) "was a perfect mirror of the sublime and beautiful; like
a lake that reflected only the heavens above, or the summits of the
mountains around, nothing below a certain level could appear in it.
The ideal was her vital air. She breathed with difficulty in the
atmosphere of this 'working-day world,' and withdrew from it as much as
possible. Hence her moral principles were seldom brought to bear upon
the actual and ordinary concerns of life. She was rather the associate
of 'the mighty dead,' than the fellow-creature of the living. To the
latter she was known chiefly through others, and often through those who
were incapable of reflecting her qualities faithfully, though impressed
with the utmost veneration for her genius. In their very anxiety for
what they considered her interests, (and of her worldly interests
she took _no charge_,) they would in her name authorize prudential
arrangements, which gave rise to the suspicion of covetousness, whilst
she was sitting rapt in heavenly contemplation. Had she given her mind
to the consideration and investigation of relative claims, she might
on some occasions have acted differently--or, rather, _she_ would have
acted where in fact _others only_ acted: for never, as I have reason
to believe, was a case of distress _presented to her_ without her being
ready to give even till her 'hand lacked means.' Many of the poor in her
neighbourhood were pensioned by her.

"She was credulous--simple--to an extraordinary degree. Profession
had, therefore, too much weight with her. She was accustomed to
_manifestations_ of the sentiments she excited, and in seeking the
demonstration sometimes overlooked the silent reality;--this was a
consequence of her profession.

"She was not only exact in the performance of her religious duties; her
religion was a pervading sentiment, influencing her to the strictest
observance of truth and charity--I mean charity in judging others: the
very active and excursive benevolence which

  '_Seeks_ the duty, nay, _prevents_ the need,'


would have been incompatible with her toilsome engrossing avocations
and with the visionary tendencies of her character. But the visionary
has his own sphere of action, and can often touch the master-springs of
other minds, so as to give the first impulse to the good deeds flowing
from _them_. There are some who can trace back to the sympathies which
Mrs. Siddons awakened, their devotedness to the cause of the suffering
and oppressed. Faithfully did she perform the part in life which she
believed allotted to her; and who may presume to judge that she did not
choose the better part?"

The idea that she was a cold woman is eminently false. Her affections,
like her intellectual powers, were slow, but tenacious; they enveloped
in folds, strong as flesh and blood, those whom she had found worthy and
taken to her heart; and her happiness was more entwined with them than
those who knew her only in her professional character could have supposed;
she would return home from the theatre, every nerve thrilling with the
excitement of sympathy, and applause, and admiration, and a cold look
or word from her husband has sent her to bed in tears. She had that
sure indication of a good heart and a fine mind, an exceeding love for
children, and a power to attract and amuse them. It was remarked that
her voice always softened in addressing a child. I remember a letter of
her's relative to a young mother and her infant, in which, among other
tender and playful things, she says, "I wonder whether Lady N---- is as
good a talker of baby-nonsense as I flatter myself _I_ am!" A lady who
was intimate with her, happening to enter her bedroom early one morning,
found her with two of her little grand-children romping on her bed, and
playing with the tresses of her long dark hair, which she had let down
for their amusement. Her own children adored her; her surviving friends
refer to her with tenderness, with gratitude, even with tears. I speak
here of what I _know_. I have seldom been more touched to the heart than
by the perusal of some of her _most_ private letters and notes, which
for tenderness of sentiment, genuine feeling, and simple yet forcible
expression, could not be surpassed.[2] Actress though she was, she had
no idea of doing any thing for the sake of appearances, or of courting
popularity by any means but excellence in her art. She loved the
elegances and refinements of life--enjoyed, and freely shared what she
had toiled to obtain--