[32]. “Samson pulling down the hall of the Philistines” is the very finest piece of spectacle that can be conceived!—“Susannah and the Elders” is rather too naked a concern for the English ladies to look at, unless through their fans: transparent ones have lately been invented, to save the expense of blushes, &c. But the most whimsical of their scriptural dramas is the exhibition of Noah as a ship-builder, preparatory to the deluge: it is a most splendid spectacle. He is assisted by large gangs of angels working as his journeymen, whose great solicitude is to keep their wings clear out of the way of their hatchets, &c. At length the whole of them strike and turn out for wages, till the arrival of a body of gens d’armes immediately brings them to order, by whom they are threatened to be sent back to heaven if they do not behave themselves!
I have seen many admirable comedians on the continent. Nothing can possibly exceed Mademoiselle Mars (for instance) in many characters: but the French are all actors and actresses from their cradles; and a great number of performers, even at the minor theatres, seem to me to forget that they are playing, and at times nearly make the audience forget it too! Their spectacle is admirably good; their dancing excellent, and most of their dresses beautiful. Their orchestras are well filled, in every sense of the word, and the level of musical composition not so low as some of Mr. Bishop’s effusions. The French singing however is execrable; their tragedy rant; but their prose comedy nature itself!
In short, the French beyond doubt exceed all other people in the world with regard to theatrical matters: and as every man, woman, and child in Paris is equally attached to spectacle, every house is full, every company encouraged,—all tastes find some gratification. An Englishman can scarcely quit a Parisian theatre without having seen himself or some of his acquaintances characteristically and capitally represented: the Anglais supply certainly an inexhaustible source of French mimicry; and as we cannot help it, do what we will, our countrymen now begin to practise the good sense of laughing at themselves! John Bull thinks that roast beef is the finest dish in the whole world, and that the finest fellow in Europe is the man that eats it: on both points the Frenchman begs leave, tout à fait, to differ with John; and nothing can be sillier than to oppose opinions with a positive people, in their own country, and who never yet, right or wrong, gave up an argument.
No part of this world, I believe, combines corporeal and intellectual luxuries to an equal extent with Paris; and I am sure no place can afford them on such easy terms. There is a variety for the eye, the mind, and the palate quite inexhaustible, and within the reach of all purses.—However, no persons but those some time resident in the metropolis of France can even imagine its conveniences or its pleasures, and their cheapness: nor can there be any city where strangers are more kindly used, or more sedulously protected. In point of courtesy, sociability, animated good-nature, address and dress, I regret to say we cannot approach their well-bred females.
MRS. JORDAN.
Public mis-statements respecting that lady—The author’s long acquaintance with her—Début of 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 to raise 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 called Irish) 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 interesting to 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.