304

INACCURATE NEWSPAPER BIOGRAPHIES.

[1869.

"Nov. 22.-An extra night,-my last here. A tremendous house, with as many turned away. I could not help feeling nervous all the day, and had to be very stern with myself to keep up. Julia, a character I am not very fond of, but yielded to the general desire. There have been so many things to put up with, so many anxieties and drawbacks, that I cannot but be glad this engagement is over. It is buying pleasure too dearly."

"The Glasgow papers," the Diary notes, "have been inserting the most stupid falsehoods in the shape of biographies' of me. I have been forced into noticing two of them. It has been most vexatious and annoying." She always condemned strongly what Wordsworth calls, "the coarse intrusion into the recesses, and those gross breaches of the sanctities of private life," in which modern journalism revels, and which were even then far too common. In a letter to a leading journal, she wrote :—

"In 1828, when you tell the public I was acting Letitia Hardy and Ophelia, I was a child struggling with Mrs Marcet's Histories and Cramer's Lessons. I may have heard of poor Ophelia then, but to the other lady I was, and am still, an utter stranger. As I know nothing of the Men of the Time, the book quoted as your authority, it was not possible for me, even had I felt inclined, to correct its statements; neither were my friends likely to do so for me, as I believe they have as little sympathy as myself with the morbid curiosity which in these days seeks to know everything about everybody. I have often been applied to, to furnish materials for a life of myself, and have invariably refused to do so, on the broad principle, that the life and works of an artist are before the public to speak for themselves, but that as a woman I claim the privileges of a private person. I must add that I think it is the duty of those who instruct the public to make themselves quite sure of the facts they state. If things are always to be accepted as truths because they appear in a book, and happen not to be contradicted, who would be safe?"

Punch made this letter the text of a very amusing article, in which he suggested prophetically what we were likely to come to, and which we have indeed come to, in the way of personal details about public persons of even the smallest notoriety. "Mrs Martin," he added, "your protest is admirable, but we live in an

1869.]

ACTING IN EDINBURGH.

305

enlightened age. It might have been all very well fifty years ago, but it will not do now. The one rule regarding everybody, whose public career has an interest for anybody, is laid down by the Laureate ———

'Keep nothing sacred; 'tis but just,

The many-headed beast should know.'

The change from Glasgow to the brighter air of Edinburgh was delightful; but a severe cold caught a day or two after her arrival sorely marred her enjoyment. Thus of the second night of her acting she writes: "My cold very bad to-day, and told a little on my voice to-night. Exquisite Rosalind! to act you is ever a new pleasure! An intelligent audience to-night, though very crowded." Again, two days further on: "Portia to-night. I can hardly speak above my hoarseness. to-night. An immense house. The hard strain upon the voice in this wicked 'Lady' is very exhausting. Thank goodness, no one seems to know I am ill." Beatrice had to follow Lady Macbeth. The house was "very fine, but it was quite torture to me to force the spirits." And so on from bad to worse till the last night of the engagement :

:

Dec. 6. - Macbeth

"Dec. 10.-No sleep again. Very wretched, and full of pain all day. Where was I to find heart and spirits for my Rosalind? But, wonderful to say, my painful trying cough confined itself principally to my dressing-room, and on the stage I felt as much at ease and happy as I ever did in 'Ganymede.' The last time. in Scotland, perhaps ever! The pain of it was on me all day, and the depression; but at night, I rejoice to say, it all went off, and no one could have seen a trace of either, only at my last word my voice would not be quite commanded. Oh, how blessed is this help, which I have always had in my extremest trial! How can I be grateful enough for it?"

Of this performance of Rosalind, which the actress feared might be for "the last time," which happily it was not to be, the Scotsman writes:

The character for this final appearance was properly chosen. Unapproached and unapproachable, Miss Faucit stands the living Rosalind.

306

THIRD VISIT TO OSBORNE.

[1870.

The more frequently it has been witnessed, the more instructive and captivating it has become, each fresh study of it bringing to light beauties both of conception and expression which did not seem to be there before, and which, now that they are found, we would on no account wish to lose. The graceful actress shows us the Rosalind Shakespeare would have us see, and from such a picture the eye withdraws with lingering regrets. . . On appearing, Miss Faucit was received with a ringing round of cheers; and it is needless to remark that, throughout the play, the most admiring attention was bestowed upon her. Finally, when from the festive throng in Arden's forest she stepped forward to deliver the Epilogue, the house again rang with applause, and then for a few moments all were silent to hear the last words. The Epilogue is brief. It was spoken with that grace and elegance of manner which is never absent from Miss Faucit; and when the closing words came, "You will, for my kind offer, when I make courtsey, bid me farewell," the farewell was perceptibly hard to say, and the audience did not withhold its sympathy. Applause came in an impulsive burst from every part of the house, and was continued with such enthusiasm that Miss Faucit had again to come forward, and so receive in double measure the parting congratulations which the audience had, with unanimous cordiality, to bestow upon her.

Soon after our return to London came an invitation from the Queen, through the Princess Louise, for a five days' visit to Osborne. My wife was received by all with the same cordiality which had made former visits so happy. She read Tennyson's "Dora" and "The Brook" to the Queen after dinner one evening, and Mrs Browning's "Lady Geraldine's Courtship" on another; and she records that in a letter "the Queen said very sweet things of my reading. H.M. seems very fond of Mrs Browning's poems." Not long after our return home the following entry occurs: "March 12.-This morning came a lovely cashmere shawl to me as a present from the Queen, with a charming letter accompanying it from the Princess Louise. Acknowledged both (no easy task) before I went to bed."

In June we went to Wales, to see the progress making with the building and garden additions to our little property there. On our way we were greatly shocked by a placard at the Wrexham Railway Station announcing the sudden death, the previous day (June 9), of Charles Dickens. "I can never forget," the Diary says, "how kind he was to me when we met in my very early days at Mr Macready's, Mr S. C. Hall's, and at his own house. His 'Christmas Carol' will always seem