The inhabitants of Dublin had long remained blind to so much genius and talent; but the year after, when the celebrated, admired, adored Miss O’Neil returned from London to act a few of her most popular parts, the infectious enchantment was so powerful, that not only the whole public was in the greatest state of tumult and agitation, but many ladies were carried out from the theatre fainting. One became really insane from witnessing Belvidera’s madness, and actually died in a mad-house. Really such facts as these render the enthusiasm of the many almost disgusting.
This great actress was also distinguished for her remarkably amiable character: she entirely supported her family, even at the time of her greatest poverty. She made her first appearance at a little private theatre in the country: this was afterwards shut, and only occasionally used by a dilettanti company, when the profits of their performance were given to the poor of the county. They wrote to Miss O’Neil, who was then in England, and begged her to consecrate this place, which had witnessed her first efforts, by the last triumph of her genius, now the admiration of the three kingdoms; whatever terms she might propose would be agreed to. She replied, that she felt herself extremely flattered and honoured by the request; but that so far from accepting any pecuniary compensation, she would gladly seize the opportunity of offering this tribute to the cradle of her humble talents. Only on this condition, and that of being allowed to contribute her mite to her poor countrymen, would she appear on the day appointed.—I was assured by eye-witnesses that they had never seen a more perfect piece of acting than her’s on this occasion. Never had Miss O’Neil been better supported,—never did she so surpass herself. It was a curious accident that a young Irish gentleman of fortune fell in love with her that very day, and shortly after married her. He robbed the public of an inestimable treasure; but who can blame him? Miss O’Neil has now several children, is still charming, and lives happily on her husband’s property. She has never trodden a stage, either public or private, since her marriage.
[The conclusion of this letter, which, as it appears from the beginning of the following one, contains a description of some public entertainments and occurrences, is missing.]
LETTER XLIII.
Dublin, December 7th, 1828.
Dear Julia,
The descriptions of public dinners and the * * *
* * * * * * *
are now at an end, and I must conduct you to a breakfast at the Post-office. The Director, Sir Edward Lee, a very agreeable and accomplished man, who gave the entertainment, first conducted us, in company with a number of elegant ladies, through the various offices ‘pour nous faire gagner de l’appetit.’ In one of them, called the ‘Dead Letter Office,’ a very strange incident occurred in our presence. All letters, the address of which is unintelligible, or which are addressed to persons who cannot be discovered, are taken into this office, where they are opened at the end of a fortnight, and, if they contain nothing important, burnt. This seems to me rather a barbarous custom, since many a heart might be broken from the loss of what a Post-office clerk might think ‘of no importance.’ So it is, however, and we found three men busied in the operation. Several of us seized these doomed epistles, and turned them over with great curiosity, when the clerk who stood nearest to me took up rather a large packet on which there was no address whatever, only the post-mark of an Irish country town. How great was his surprise and that of all of us, when on opening it we saw not a single line of writing, but £2700 in bank-notes! This, at least, appeared ‘of importance’ to all, and an order was immediately given to write to the town in question to make inquiry about it.
In the evening I went to pay the ‘nightingales’ a visit, but found them flown, and only their father at home, with whom I had a scientific conversation. He showed me several curious newly-invented instruments;—one among them for ascertaining the exact strength of the lungs, and therefore invaluable in consumptive diseases. He told me that a person high in office was given over last year by all of the most eminent physicians in Dublin, as far gone in pulmonary consumption. Believing his danger to be imminent, he had made up his mind to give up his place, and to go to Montpellier, as the only means of prolonging his life. Sir A—— was at last consulted, and resolved to try this instrument, which he had just received from London. Scarcely could he believe his eyes when he found on experiment that the lungs of the patient were two degrees stronger than his own,—he being in perfect health. The disease was now discovered to be in the liver, though it had exhibited every symptom of consumption; and in four months the patient was entirely cured, and kept his lucrative place which he had determined to give up.