MRS. JORDAN.

Public mis-statements respecting that lady—The author’s long acquaintance with her—Débutof Mrs. Jordan, at the Dublin Theatre, as Miss Francis—Her incipient talents at that period—Favourite actresses then in possession of the stage—Theatrical jealousy—Mrs. Daly (formerly Miss Barsanti)—Curious inversion of characters in the opera of “The Governess,” resorted to by the manager toraise the wind—Lieut. Doyne proposes for Miss Francis—His suit rejected from prudential considerations—Miss Francis departs for England—Mr. Owenson, Lady Morgan’s father—Comparison between that performer and Mr. John (commonly calledIrish) Johnstone—Introduction of the author to his Royal Highness the Duke of Clarence—Reflections on the scurrilous personalities of the English press—Mrs. Jordan in the green-room, and on the stage—Her remarks on the theatrical art, and on her own style of acting—Her last visit to Dublin, and curious circumstances connected therewith—Mr. Dwyer the actor and Mr. Serjeant Gold—Mrs. Jordan in private society—Extracts from her letters—Her retirement from Bushy and subsequent embarkation for France.

The foregoing short and superficial sketches of the Dublin stage in my juvenile days bring me to a subject more recent and much more interestingto my feelings. I touch it nevertheless with pain, and must ever deeply regret the untimely catastrophe of a lady who was at once the highest surviving prop of her profession and a genuine sample of intrinsic excellence: had her fate descended, whilst filling her proper station, and in her own country; or had not the circumstances which attended some parts of that lady’s career been entirely mistaken;—had not the cause of her miseries been grossly misrepresented, and the story of her desertion and embarrassed state at the time of her dissolution altogether false;—I probably should never have done more (under the impression of its being intrusive, perhaps indelicate) than mention her professional excellences.

But so much of that lady, and so much relating to her death, has been recently mis-stated in the public prints, (not for the purpose of doing her justice, but of doing another injustice,) that I feel myself warranted in sketching some traits and incidents of Mrs. Jordan’s character and life—which I know to be true, and a proportion whereof I was personally acquainted with.—Some degree of mystery has doubtless rested, and will probably continue to rest, on the cause which led that lady to repair to a foreign country, where she perished; all I shall say, however, on that score is, that this cause has been known to a very limited number of individuals, and never had, in any shape or degree, bearing or connexion with her former situation.The reports current on this head I know to be utterly unfounded, and many of them I believe to be altogether malicious.

I am not Mrs. Jordan’s biographer; my observations only apply to abstract portions of her conduct and abstract periods of her life. I had the gratification of knowing, for some time intimately, that amiable woman and justly celebrated performer. Her public talents are recorded; her private merits are known comparatively to few. I enjoyed a portion of her confidence on some very particular subjects, and had full opportunity of appreciating her character.

It was not by a mere cursory acquaintance Mrs. Jordan could be known:—confidence alone could develope her qualities, and I believe few of them escaped my observation. I have seen her in the busy bustling exercise of her profession:—I have seen her in the tranquil lap of ease, of luxury, and of magnificence;—in a theatre, surrounded by a crowd of adulating dramatists—and when surrounded by a numerous, interesting, and beloved offspring. I have seen her happy:—I have seen hermiserable: and I could not help participating in all her feelings.

At the point of time when I firstsawMrs. Jordan, she could not be much more I think than sixteen or seventeen years of age; and had made herdébutas Miss Francis, at the Dublin Theatre. It is worthy of observation, that her early appearancesin Dublin were not in any of those characters (save one) wherein she afterward so eminently excelled; though such as, being more girlish, were better suited to her spirits and age. I was at that time, of course, somewhat less competent than now to form a judgment; yet could notthenbut observe, that in these parts she wasperfecteven on her first appearance: she had no art to study;—Nature was her sole instructress. Youthful, joyous, animated, and droll, her laugh arose from her heart, her tear started ingenuously from her feeling. Her countenance was all expression, without being all beauty:—her form, then light and elastic—her flexible limbs—the juvenile graces of her every movement impressed themselves, as I perceived, deeply upon those who attended even her earliest performances.

Her expressive features and eloquent action at all periods harmonised blandly with each other—not by skill, but by intellectualsympathy: when her figure was adapted to the part she assumed, she had only to speak the words of an author to become the very person he delineated. Her voice was clear and distinct, modulating itself with natural and winning ease; and when exerted in song, its gentle flute-like melody formed the most captivating contrast to the convulsed and thunderingbravura. She was throughout the untutored child of Nature: she sang without effort, and generally without the accompaniment of instruments;and whoever heard herDead of the Night, and herSweet Bird, either in public or private, if they had any soul, must have surrendered at discretion.

In playful genteel comic characters, such asBelinda, &c., she was excellent: but in theformal, dignified, high-bredparts of comedy, her superiority was not so decided:—her line, indeed, was distinctly marked out; within its extent she stood altogether unrivalled—nay, unapproached.

At the commencement of Mrs. Jordan’s theatrical career she had difficulties to encounter which nothing but superiority of talent could so suddenly have surmounted. Both of the Dublin theatres were filled with performers of high popular reputation, and thus every important part in her line of acting was ably preoccupied. The talent of the female performers, matured by experience and disciplined by practice, must yet have yielded to the fascinating powers of her natural genius, had it been suffered fairly to expand. But the jealousy which never fails to pervade all professions was powerfully excited to restrain the development of her mimic powers; and it was reserved for English audiences to give full play and credit to that extraordinary comic genius, which soon raised her to the highest pitch, at once of popular and critical estimation.

Mrs. Daly (formerly Miss Barsanti) and Mrs. Leyster were foremost among the successful occupantsof those buoyant characters to which Miss Francis was peculiarly adapted:—others had long filled the remaining parts to which she aspired, and thus scarcely one was left open to engage her talents.

Mr. Daly, about this time, resorted to a singular species of theatrical entertainment, by the novelty whereof he proposed to rival his competitors of Smock-Alley; namely, that ofreversing characters, the men performing the female, and the females the male parts in comedy and opera. The opera of “The Governess” was played in this way for several nights, the part ofLopezby Miss Francis. In this singular and unimportant character the versatility of her talent rendered the piece attractive, and the season concluded with a strong anticipation of her future celebrity.

The company then proceeded to perform in the provinces, and at Waterford occurred the first grave incident in the life of Mrs. Jordan. Lieutenant Charles Doyne, of the third regiment of heavy horse (Green’s), was then quartered in that city; and, struck with thenaïvetéand almost irresistible attractions of the young performer, his heart yielded, and he became seriously and honourably attached to her. Lieutenant Doyne was not handsome, rather the reverse, but he was a gentleman and a worthy man. He had been my friend and companion some years at the university; I therefore knew him intimately, and he entrustedme with his passion. (Miss Francis’s mother was then alive, and sedulously attended her.) Wild and thoughtless myself, I told him, if he could win the young lady, to marry her; adding, that no doubt Fortunemustsmile, whether she chose or not, on so disinterested a union; he being no beauty himself, and having no chance of getting a moneyed wife by his attractions, as young ladies seldom fall in love with the unsophisticated goodness of a lover: an ordinary picture without either frame or gilding is seldom seen in a fashionable drawing-room.

Her mother, however, was of a different opinion; and as she had no fortune but her talent, the exercise of which was to be relinquished with the name of Francis, it became matter of serious consideration whence they were to draw their support—with the probability too of a family! Here was a real enigma. His commission was altogether inadequate, and his private fortune small.—This, in short, was insurmountable. Mrs. Francis, also anticipating the future celebrity of her child, and unwilling to extinguish in obscurity all chance of fame and fortune by means of the profession she had adopted, worked upon her daughter to decline the proposal. The treaty accordingly ended, and Lieut. Doyne appeared to me for a time almost inconsolable. Miss Francis I did not see afterward; she accompanied her mother, soon after, to England, and soon commencedher ascent toward the pinnacle of fame. Lieut. Doyne lately died collector of the Queen’s County. His esteem for Mrs. Jordan was never obliterated.

Mr. Owenson, the father of Lady Morgan, was at that time highly celebrated in the line of Irish characters, and never did an actor exist so perfectly calculated, in my opinion, to personify that singular class of people. Considerably above six feet in height;—remarkably handsome and brave-looking,—vigorous and well-shaped,—he was not vulgar enough to disgust, nor was he genteel enough to beout of character: never did I see any actor so entirely identify himself with the peculiarities of those Irish parts he assumed. In the higher class of Irish characters (old officers, &c.) he looked well, but did not exhibit sufficient formal dignity; and in thelowest, his humour was scarcely quaint and original enough; but in what might be termed the “middle class of Paddies,” no man ever combined the look and the manner with such felicity as Owenson. Scientific singing was not an Irish quality; and he sang well enough.—I have heard Mr. Jack Johnstone warble so sweetly and so very skilfully, and act some parts so very like a man of education, that I almost forgot the nation he was mimicking: that was not the case with Owenson; he acted as if he had not received too much schooling, and sang like a man whom nobody had instructed. He was, like most of his profession,careless of his concerns, and grew old without growing rich. His last friend was old Fontaine, a very celebrated French dancing-master, many years domiciliated and highly esteemed in Dublin. He aided Owenson and his family whilst he had means to do so, and they both died nearly at the same time—instances of talent and improvidence.

This digression I have ventured on, because in the first place it harmonises with the theatrical nature of my subject, and may be interesting—because it relates to the father of an eminent and amiable woman; and most particularly, because I was informed that Mr. Owenson took a warm interest in the welfare of Miss Francis, and was the principal adviser of her mother in rejecting Mr. Doyne’s addresses.

After a lapse of many years I chanced to acquire the honour of a favourable introduction to His Royal Highness the Duke of C——, who became the efficient friend of me and of my family—not with that high and frigid mien which so often renders ungracious even the favours of upstart authorities in the British government, but with the condescending frankness and sincerity of a royal prince. He received at an early age, and educated, my only son with his own, and sent him, as lieutenant of the fifth dragoon guards, to make his campaigns in the Peninsula. This introduction to His Royal Highness gave me unerring opportunities of knowing, appreciating, and valuing,Mrs. Jordan. In her there was no guile; her heart was conspicuous in every word—her feelings in every action; and never did I find, in any character, a more complete concentration of every quality that should distinguish a mother, a friend, and a gentlewoman.

The outlines of Mrs. Jordan’s public life during her connexion of twenty-three years with a royal personage are too well known to require recital here. But with respect to her memoirs after that period, so much falsehood and exaggeration have gone abroad—so many circumstances have been distorted, and so manyinvented—some of the latter possessing sufficient plausibility to deceive even the most wary—that, if not a duty, it appears at least not wrong to aid in the refutation of malicious calumnies.

I have ever felt a great abhorrence of the system of defamation on hearsay. Public men,as such, may properly be commented on. It is the birthright of the British people to speak fairly their sentiments of those who rule them; but libel on private reputation is a disgusting excrescence upon the body of political freedom, and has latterly grown to an extent so dangerous to individuals, to families, and to society in general, and so disgraceful to the press at large, that it may hereafter afford plausible pretences for curtailing the liberty of that organ—the pure and legal exercise of which is the proudest and surest guardianof British freedom. The present lax, unrestrained, and vicious exuberance of the periodical press, stamps the United Kingdom as the very focus of libel and defamation in all their ramifications. No reputation—no rank—no character, public or private, neither the living nor the dead,—can escape from its licentiousness. One comfort may be drawn from the reflection—that it can proceed no further; its next movement must be a retrograde one, and I trust the legislature will not permit this retrogression to be long deferred.

That spirit of licentiousness I have been endeavouring to stigmatise was never more clearly instanced than by the indefatigable and reiterated attempts (for several years persevered in) to disparage a royal personage, whose domestic habits, and whose wise and commendable abstinence from political party and conflicting factions, should have exempted him from the pen and from the tongue of misrepresentation, and rendered sacred a character which only requires development to stand as high in the estimation of every man who regards the general happiness and power of the empire, as that of any other member of the same illustrious house. On this point I speak not lightly: that which I state is neither the effusion of gratitude nor the meanness of adulation: the royal personage I allude to would not commend me for the one, and would despise me for the other.

I cannot conclude this digression without reprobating in no measured terms that most dangerous of all calumnious tendencies which endeavours systematically to drag down the highest ranks to the level of the lowest, and by labouring to excite a democratic contempt of royal personages, attempts gradually to sap the very foundation of constitutional allegiance: such, however, has been a practice of the day, exercised with all the rancour, but without any portion of the ability, of Junius.[33]

33.I rather think that a very good man, and one of the first advocates of Ireland, carried this observation of mine and its bearings rather beyond the point I here intended, in his speech (asreported) in the Court of Chancery, on the arrival of the present chancellor. The reply of Sir Anthony Hart appeared to me to be the wisest, the most dignified, effective, and honest, that could possibly be pronounced by a lord chancellor so circumstanced, and coming after his noble predecessor.

It is deeply to be lamented that this system has been exemplified by some individuals whose literary celebrity might have well afforded them the means of creditable subsistence, without endeavouring to force into circulation works of mercenary penmanship containing wanton slander of the very highest personage in the United Empire. I specify no name: I designate no facts;—if they exist not, it is unimportant; if they are notorious, the application will not be difficult. It is true that a libeller cannot fully atone—yet he may repent;and even that mortification would be a better penance to any calumniator of distinguished talent than to run the risk of being swamped between the Scylla and Charybdis of untruth and disaffection.

But to return to the accomplished subject of my sketch:—I have seen her, as she called it,on a cruise, that is, at a provincial theatre (Liverpool); having gone over once from Dublin for that purpose: she was not then in high spirits: indeed her tone, in this respect, was not uniform; in the mornings she usually seemed depressed; at noon she went to rehearsal—came home fatigued, dined at three, and then reclined in her chamber till it was time to dress for the performance. She generally went to the theatre low-spirited.

I once accompanied Mrs. Jordan to the green-room at Liverpool: Mrs. Alsop, and her old maid, assiduously attended her. She went thither languid and apparently reluctant; but in a quarter of an hour her very nature seemed to undergo a metamorphosis: the sudden change of her manner appeared to me, in fact, nearly miraculous; she walked spiritedly across the stage two or three times, as if to measure its extent; and the moment her foot touched the scenic boards her spirit seemed to be regenerated; she cheered up, hummed an air, stepped light and quick, and every symptom of depression vanished! The comic eye and cordial laugh returned to their mistress, andannounced that she felt herself moving in her darling element. Her attachment to the practice of her profession, in fact, exceeded any thing I could conceive.

Mrs. Jordan delighted in talking over past events. She had strong impressions of every thing; and I could perceive was sometimes influenced rather by her feelings than her judgment.

“How happens it, Mrs. Jordan,” said I to her, when last in Dublin, “that you still exceed all your profession even in characters not so adapted to you now as when I first saw you? How do you contrive to be so buoyant—nay, so childish, on the stage, while you lose half your spirits, and degenerate into gravity, the moment you are off it?” “Habit!” replied Mrs. Jordan, “old habit! had I formerly studied my positions, weighed my words, and measured my sentences, I should have been artificial, and they might have hissed me: so, when I had got the words well by heart, I told Nature I was then atherservice to do whatever she thought proper with my feet, legs, hands, arms, and features: to her I left the whole matter: I became, in fact, merelyher puppet, and never interfered furthermyselfin the business. I heard the audience laugh at me, and I laughed at myself: they laughed again, so did I: and they gave me credit for matters I knew very little about, and for which Dame Nature, not I, should have received their approbation.

“The best rule for a performer,” said Mrs. Jordan, “is to forget, if possible, that any audience is listening. We perform best of all in our closets, and next best to crowded houses. How singular the contrast! but I scarcely ever saw a good performer who was alwayseyeingtheaudience. If,” continued she, “half the gesticulation, half the wit, drollery, and anecdote which I heard among you all at Curran’s Priory, at Grattan’s cottage, and at your house, had been displayed before an audience,without your knowing that any body was listening to you, the performance would have been cheered as one of the finest pieces of comic acting possible, though, in fact, your onlyplotwas endeavouring to get tipsy as agreeably as possible!”

This last visit of Mrs. Jordan to the Irish capital took place in the year 1809, and afforded me a full opportunity of eliciting the traits of her nature and disposition. She was greeted in that metropolis with all the acclamations that her reputation and talent so fully merited: she was well received among the best society in Dublin, whose anxiety was excited beyond measure to converse with her in private. Here, however, she disappointed all; for there was about her nodisplay; and the animated, lively, brilliant mimic, on the boards, was in the saloon retiring, quiet, nay, almost reserved. Mrs. Jordan seldom spoke much in company, particularly in very large assemblies: but then she spoke well: she made no exertion to appeardistinguished, and became more so by the absence of effort. The performer was wholly merged in the gentlewoman; and thus, although on her entrance this celebrated person failed toimpressthe company, sheneverfailed to retire in possession of their respect.

On that tour she said she was very ill-treated by the managers. The understanding was, she told me, that she was to receive half the profits: yet, although the houses were invariably crowded, the receipts were inadequate to her expectations. Many of the performers who had been appointed to act with her were below mediocrity. One was forgetful—another drunk. I confess I never myself saw such a crew. All this rendered Mrs. Jordan miserable, and she sought relief in the exercise of her benevolent feelings. Among other objects of her bounty was an old actor called Barrett, who had played on the night of herdébut, and was then in most indigent circumstances. Him she made comfortable, and gave efficient assistance to several others whom she had known in former years.

The managers (I know not why) acted toward her not with so much respect asevery body, except themselves, had shown that most amiable woman. She had found it absolutely necessary to refuse performing with one or two vulgar fellows belonging to the set whom they had selected tosustainher; and she quitted the country at length,having formed a fixed determination never to repeat any engagement with the same persons.

She had scarcely arrived in England when some of the parties, including a Mr. Dwyer, a player, quarrelled; and actions for defamation were brought forward among them. A writer of the name of Corri also published periodical libels, in one of which he paid Mrs. Jordan the compliment of associating her with the Duchess of Gordon. I and my family had likewise the honour of partaking in the abuse of that libel, and I prosecuted the printer. On the trial of the cause, one of the counsel, Mr. Thomas (now Serjeant) Gold, thought proper (as reported in the newspapers) to indulge himself in language and statements respecting Mrs. Jordan neither becoming nor true. In cross-examining me as a witness, on the prosecution of the printer, heessayeda line of interrogation highly improper as to that lady; but he took care not to go too far with me when I waspresent: a monosyllable or two I found quite sufficient to check the exuberance of “my learned friend;” and on this occasion he was not backward in taking a hint. The libeller was found guilty, and justly sentenced to a protracted imprisonment.

I never knew Mrs. Jordan feel so much as at the speech of Mr. Gold on that occasion: as it appeared inseveral newspapers, it was too bad even for a vulgar declaimer; and when Mrs. Jordan’s situation, her family, and her merits were considered,it was inexcusable. I do not state this feeling of Mrs. Jordan solely from my own impression: I received from her a letter indicative of the anguish which that speech had excited within her; and I should do injustice to her memory if (as she enjoined me to do) I did not publish in her justification an extract of that letter.

“Bushy House, Wednesday.

“My dear Sir,

“Not having the least suspicion of the business in Dublin, it shocked and grieved me very much; not only on my own account, but I regret that I should have been the involuntary cause of any thing painful to you, or to your amiable family. But of Mr. Jones I can think any thing: and I beg you will do me the justice to believe that my feelings are not selfish. Why indeed shouldIexpect to escape their infamous calumnies? Truth, however, will force its way.* * * * * I wanted nothing from Mr. C * * *’s generosity, but I had a claim on his justice:—* * * * *

“During the two representations of ‘The Inconstant’ I represented to him the state Mr. Dwyer was in, and implored him, out of respect to the audience, if not in pity to my terrors, to change the play. As to the libel on Mr. Dwyer, charged to me by Mr. Gold, I never directly or indirectly, by words or by writing, demeaned myself by interfering in the most remote degreewith so wretched a concern. I knew no editor—I read no newspapers while in Dublin. The charge is false andlibellousonme, published, I presume, through Mr. Gold’s assistance. Under that view of the case, he will feel himself rather unpleasantly circumstanced should I call upon him either toproveordisavowhis assertions. To be introduced any way into such a business shocks and grieves me: he might have pleaded for his companions without calumniating me: but, for the present, I shall drop an irksome subject, which has already given me more than ordinary uneasiness. * * * * * *

“Yours, &c.“Dora Jordan.”[34]

“Yours, &c.

“Dora Jordan.”[34]

I have seen this accomplished woman in the midst of one of the finest families in England, surrounded by splendour, beloved, respected, and treated with all the deference paid to a memberof high life. I could perceive, indeed, no offset to her comforts and gratification. She was, in my hearing, frequently solicited to retire from her profession: she wasurgedto forego all further emoluments from its pursuit; and this single fact gives the contradiction direct to reports which I should feel it improper even to allude to further. Her constant reply was, that she would retirewhen Mrs. Siddons did; but that her losses by the fire at Covent Garden, together with other incidental outgoings, had been so extensive, as to induce her continuance of the profession to replace her finances. Her promise to retire with Mrs. Siddons, however, she did not act up to, but continued to gratify the public, with enormous profit to herself, down to the very last year she remained in England. It is matter of fact, too, (though perhaps here out of place,) that, so far from a desertion of this lady, as falsely reported, to the last hour of her life the solicitude of her royal friend was, I believe, undiminished; and though separated, for causes in no way discreditable to either, he never lost sight of her interest or her comforts. It was not the nature of His Royal Highness:—he was incapable ofunkindness toward Mrs. Jordan: those reports had, indeed, no foundation, save in the vicious representation of hungry or avaricious editors, or in the scurrility of those hackneyed and indiscriminate enemies of rank and reputation, whose aspersions are equally a disgrace and an injury to the country wherein they are tolerated.

34.The speeches of counsel on that trial being published in the newspapers, she requested my advice as to bringing an action for defamation against some of the parties. My reply to her was the same that had been pleasantly and adroitly given to myself by Sir John Doyle.“If you wrestle with a chimney-sweeper,” said Sir John, “it is true you maythrowyour antagonist; but you will be sure to dirty your own coat by the encounter.” Never was there a better aphorism. Mrs. Jordan adopted it; and most properly satisfied herself with despising, instead of punishing, all her calumniators.

“If you wrestle with a chimney-sweeper,” said Sir John, “it is true you maythrowyour antagonist; but you will be sure to dirty your own coat by the encounter.” Never was there a better aphorism. Mrs. Jordan adopted it; and most properly satisfied herself with despising, instead of punishing, all her calumniators.

To contribute toward the prevention of all further doubt as to Mrs. Jordan’s unmixed happiness at the period of her residence at Bushy, as well as to exhibit the benevolence of her heart and the warmth of her attachments, I will introduce at this point extracts from some other letters addressed to myself:—

“Bushy.

“My dear Sir,

“I cannot resist the pleasure of informing you that your dear boy has not only passed, but passed with great credit, at the Military College:—it gives us all the highest satisfaction. My two beloved boys are now at home:—they have both gone to South-Hill to see your Edward. We shall have a full and merry house at Christmas; ’tis what the dear duke delights in:—a happier set, when altogether, I believe never yet existed. The ill-natured parts of the world never can enjoy the tranquil pleasures of domestic happiness.

“I have made two most lucrative trips since I saw you. Adkinson came to see me at Liverpool—quite as poetical as ever, and the best-naturedpoetI believe in the world.

“Yours, ever truly,“Dora Jordan.”

“Yours, ever truly,

“Dora Jordan.”

“Bushy.

“My dear Sir,

“I returned here on the 7th inst. after a very fatiguing, though very prosperouscruiseof five weeks, and found all as well as I could wish. Your Edward left us this morning for Marlow: I found him improved in every thing. I never saw the duke enjoy any thing more than the poultry you sent us:[35]they were delicious: he desires me to offer his best regards to yourself and your ladies. Lucy is gone on a visit to Lady De Roos.

“Yours, most truly,“Dora Jordan.”

“Yours, most truly,

“Dora Jordan.”

“Bushy.

“My dear Sir,

“I have returned here:—but, alas! the happiness I had promised to myself has met a cruel check at finding the good duke very unwell. You can scarcely conceive my misery at the cause of such a disappointment: but there is every appearance of a favourable result not being verydistant: ’tis his old periodical attack, but not near so severe as I have seen it. I shall not write to you as I intended till I can announce His Royal Highness’s recovery. I shall have neither head nor nerves to write, or even to think, till I am able to contribute to your pleasure, by announcing my own happiness and his recovery.

“* * * * &c.“Dora Jordan.

“* * * * &c.

“Dora Jordan.

“Sir J. Barrington,“Merrion-square, Dublin.”

“Sir J. Barrington,

“Merrion-square, Dublin.”

35.There were a species of chickens then to be had in Dublin such as I never saw in any other country;—as white as snow, very small, fat, and trussed up as round as little balls: the eye and the palate were equally gratified by them. Thecrammedfowls of Dublin were then also unrivalled. I believe they are nowequalledin London, and vastlyexceededby thecaponsof Paris, which are quite delicious:—lamb at Paris, too, is finer than any where else.

“Bushy.

“We have just returned from Maidenhead; and I postponed writing to you till I could give you an account of Edward, who, with Colonel Butler, dined with us there:—he looks wonderfully well, and the uniform becomes him extremely. On the ladies leaving the room, Colonel Butler gave the duke a very favourable account of him; and I trust it will give you and Lady Barrington the more satisfaction, when I assure you that it is by no means a partial account.

“I am sure you will be pleased to hear that your young friend Lucy is about to be married, much to my satisfaction, to Colonel Hawker, of the 14th dragoons: he is a most excellent man, and has a very good private property: she will make the best of wives; a better girl never yetlived: it makes me quite happy, and I intend to give her the value of 10,000l.

“* * * * &c.“Dora Jordan.”

“* * * * &c.

“Dora Jordan.”

The days of Mrs. Jordan continued to pass on, alternately in the exercise of a lucrative profession and the domestic enjoyment of an adoring family, when circumstances (which, becausemysteriousto the public, are construed necessarily to imply culpability somewhere or other) occasioned a separation:—certainly an event most unexpected by those who had previously known the happy state of her connexion. I was at first ignorant of it, and it would be worse than presumption to enter into any converse on a subject at once so private, so delicate, and so interesting. Suffice it to say, that of all the accounts and surmises as to that event in which the public prints were pleased to indulge themselves, not one was true: indeed, I have good reason to believe that there was scarcely a single incident whereto that separation was publicly attributed, that had any degree of foundation whatsoever. Such circumstances should ever remain known to those only who feel the impropriety of amusing the readers at a news-room with subjects of private importance. I will, however, repeat, from authority I cannot doubt, that the separation took effect from causes no way dishonourableto either party: that it was not sought for by the one, nornecessaryon the part of the other. It was too hasty to be discreet, and too much influenced by feelings of the moment to be hearty. Though not altogether unacquainted with those circumstances, I never presumed to make an observation upon the subject, save to contradict, in direct terms, statements which, at the time I heard them, I knew to be totally unfounded; and never was the British press more prostituted than in the malicious colouring given (and rather recently, too,) to the conduct of a royal personage on that occasion.

General Hawker, one of the late King’s aides-de-camp, had married Miss Jordan; and in the punctilious honour and integrity of this gentleman, every body who knew and knows him did and does rely with unmixed confidence. Such reliance His Royal Highness evinced by sending, through him, I believe,carte blancheto Mrs. Jordan, when the separation had been determined on, enabling her to dictate whatever she conceived would be fully adequate to her maintenance, without recurrence to her profession, in all the comforts to which she had been so long accustomed; and every thing she wished for was arranged to her satisfaction. Still, however, infatuated with attachment to theatrical pursuits, she continued to accept of temporary engagements to her great profit: and it will perhaps scarcely becredited, that so unsated were British audiences with Mrs. Jordan’s unrivalled performances, that even at her time of life, with certainly diminished powers and an altered person, the very last year she remained in England brought her a clear profit of near 7000l.Icannotbe mistaken in this statement; for my authority (a person of truth and honour in their fullest extent) could not wilfully err on that point. The malicious representations, therefore, of her having been left straitened in pecuniary circumstances were literallyfabulous; for to the very moment of her death she remained in full possession of all the means of comfort—nay, if she chose it, ofluxury. Why, therefore, she emigrated, pined away, and expired in a foreign country (of whose language she was ignorant, and in whose habits she was wholly unversed), with everyappearanceof necessity, is also considered a mystery by those unacquainted with the cruel circumstances which led to that unfortunate catastrophe. It is not by my pen that miserable story, as I learned it, shall be told. It was a transaction wherein her royal friend had,directly or indirectly, no concern, nor did itin any wayspring out ofthatconnexion. She had, in fact, only toaccuseherself of benevolence, confidence, and honour: to thosedemerits, and to the ingratitude of others, she fell a lingering, broken-hearted victim.

When His Royal Highness was informed of the determination on the part of her friends that Mrs.Jordan should take up a temporary residence on the continent, he insisted on her retaining the attendance of Miss K * * * *, who for many years had been attached to the establishment at Bushy, as superintendent and governess of the duke’s children. This lady, therefore, whose sincere attachment had been so long and truly proved, accompanied Mrs. Jordan (as I have understood) as her companion, and almost to the time of her death continued to administer to her comforts—endeavouring, so far as in her lay, by her society and attentions, to solace the mental misery which pressed upon her friend’s health and had extinguished her spirits. She was also accompanied to the continent by Colonel Hawker, the general’s brother: but, as she wished, during her residence in France, to be totally retired, she took no suite. She selected Boulogne as a place of convenient proximity to England; and in a cottage half a mile from that town awaited with indescribable anxiety the completion of those affairs which had occasioned her departure, rapturously anticipating the happiness of embracing her children afresh after a painful absence.

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