the Countess of Darlington and Duchess of Kendal, and for whom the irreverent Londoners could find no more euphonious nicknames than the Elephant and the Maypole. Glancing at "Memoirs of St. James's Court," by the pleasant gossipers of last century, at "Four-George-Lectures," by Thackeray, at Folkestone Williams novels, and other such guides to the past, and finding these royal favourites not handled at all as tenderly as poor Jane Shore and Fair Rosamond-treated, in fact, as disreputable avaricious harridanswe ask, "had they their flatterers or well-wishers while alive?" and lo! they were not wanting. Even the Roman Catholic Rambler and gossip Baron Pollnitz had something agreeable to tell all Europe about them.

"Between Hanover and Herenhausen there are two fine seats, of which one is called Fantasie, i.e., the Whim, and the other Monbrillant, or Mount Pleasant. They were built by two sisters-in-law, viz., Madame de Kilmanseck (who after her Husband's Death, was by King George I., created Countess of Arlington), and the Countess of Platen. These two houses are a proof of the good Taste of those Ladies, who were really an Honour to Germany for their Beauty, good Sense, Manners, and Genius. They both dy'd in their Prime, a little time after one another; my Lady Arlington in England, and the Countess of Platen at Hanover, to which she was not only an ornament but a lustre."

And shall many gentlemen and ladies, now so honourably spoken of and esteemed, come in time to have no better character than Count Bonneval, or Count Königsmarck, or Madame Kielmansegge, or Madame Schulenberg? Or are our Walpoles, our Thackerays, and our Folkestone Williams, only so many living asses, leaving the marks of their hoofs on the foreheads of dead lions and lionesses?

The celebrated Baron Munchausen, or some relative of the name, was one of the most popular ministers of state in the little court when our tourists paid their flying visit there. Pollnitz

says he was of a "temper, mild, civil, very candid, sober, and religious. He lives with dignity, and his house is as open to foreigners as any in the city." We fear he was not the Baron whose adventures were so dear to us in the days of our nonage.

It is hard to treat of the ancestral halls of our present dynasty without discussing the question of poor Sophia Dorothea's crime or folly. If she were really guilty, her husband would hardly have afterwards proposed a reconciliation; and if that packet of letters lately discovered in Sweden, and which seems to decide the question of her guilt, were genuine, the early possessors, if friends of the lady, would have destroyed them, and if enemies, they would have been kept nearer home, and long since used by her ill-willers. The popular romance of the death of the Count was not current in the last century. Sir Nicholas Wraxall, after diligent inquiry, said, that being arrested at the stair-foot, he went quietly with the soldier into a vault and was locked up. The vault was then filled with water from a convenient reservoir, and next morning the swollen body consumed in an oven.

In the letters of Lady Mary is a short but pleasant notice of the court building, which she considered superior in accommodation to that of St. James's. She spoke very favourably of Prince Frederic, giving him credit for sprightliness, a good understanding, engaging manners, and agreeable person. She affected surprise at the uniform style of beauty that distinguished the ladies, such rosy cheekssuch snowy foreheads and bosomssuch jet eyebrows-such scarlet lips

The

and such coal black hair! curious part of the affair was that the black never left the hair, nor the rose the cheek till death, and that while living the owners avoided the fire in the coldest weather.

Here we must pause. Tour was a long affair. may resume it.

The Grand Possibly we

MRS. FITZHENRY, who figures with considerable prominence in the records of the Irish stage, was twice married, and had the misfortune to lose both her husbands, and to be twice a widow during the bloom of her life and reputation. Her maiden name was Mary Flannigan. She was born in Dublin, where her father kept a well-known house of public entertainment, called "The Old FerryBoat," at the lower end of Abbeystreet, near the site of the present magnificent Custom House, but afterwards removed to Bachelor's-walk. He was well-known and respected. Here Miss Mary dwelt in her single blessedness, and supported herself, without being a burden on her father, by the business of embroidery, to which she had been regularly bred. She was extremely handsome, and had many other attractive recommendations. While she sat at her frame, sedulously pursuing the avocation which supplied her own wants, and furnished additional comforts to her aged parent, she sometimes relaxed her mind by perusing an old volume or two of plays which fell in her way, and thus acquired an early taste for the stage, and a slight acquaintance with dramatic literature. We may also readily suppose that she was occasionally treated to the theatre when any of the great London luminaries blazed periodically on the Dublin boards.

Her father's house being contiguous to the river, the captains and officers of the merchant ships lying in the vicinity made it their ordinary place of rendezvous, and more than one occasionally lodged and boarded with honest Mike Flannigan, at "The Old Ferry-Boat." Amongst them was Captain Gregory, then in the Bordeaux trade. Having thus frequent opportunities of enjoying the fair embroideress's company, her filial attentions, without any appearance of studied display, her prudent conduct, and unaffected manners, her industry, and other engaging qualifications, made a very sensible impression on his heart, which the honest and generous-spirited tar openly

communicated to her father, and tendered the young damsel his hand. The overture was not rejected; for she too had penetration beyond her years and experience, and knew how to value merit. Matters thus wearing a favourable aspect, there was nothing to hinder a convention. Preliminaries were not long settling, and the definitive treaty was speedily concluded. They united interests, and embarked together for life. But, alas! who can foresee the casualties designed by powers above human control? An adverse blast intercepted them in their voyage. They had not been long married when the bridegroom was unhappily drowned. Being now left a disconsolate widow, with a scanty provision, and her affectionate father also gone to his everlasting home,

"The world was all before her, where to choose

Her place of rest, and Providence her guide."

A natural inclination, and the suggestions of flattering friends, turned her thoughts towards the stage. The expedient was hazardous in the extreme, but it had strong inducements. The theatrical hemisphere contained but few stars. Some of the most brilliant had set, and others were beginning to wane. The prospect was fair and open. Much pains had been taken to persuade her she had talents, and the glass assured her of her beauty. She had no intervening duties to combat, no prejudices to remove on the part of any who had a right to control her actions. There was nothing in her position to prohibit a trial; and if success should justify the measure, her triumph would far exceed the mortification of possible failure. To these prudential considerations she added a bold resolve to strike high, and aim at once at the top of the tree.

Her physical attributes, and strong natural feeling, pointed to lofty, impassioned tragedy, and this arduous line she determined to attempt. By the encouragement of friends,--who are often officiously indiscreet and

fatal advisers, though, fortunately, for once, in her case, it proved otherwise, she went to London late in the year 1753, and offered herself on trial to the management of Covent Garden Theatre. Her offer was accepted. In those days, novices of promise were not, as in 1863, overflowing in the market, and it was much more easy to obtain a hearing than it is now. Mrs. Gregory selected Hermione, in "The Distressed Mother," for her opening part, and presented herself as that fiery and impulsive heroine, on the 10th of January, 1754. She was announced as "a young lady, her first appearance on any stage," and was so well received that the play was repeated ten times during the season. After a few nights she appeared in the bills under her own name, as Mrs. Gregory. The Andromache was Miss Bellamy, then in the full tide of her beauty and fame. In the London Magazine for February, 1754, were some highly complimentary verses on the fair debutante who acted Hermione. Francis Gentleman, author of the "Dramatic Censor," writing of the representatives of this character, at a much later period (1770), says, "Mrs. Woffington, in point of voice, was not equal to the passions of the part, but filled up every other idea with pleasing and forcible ability. Mrs. Fitzhenry (Mrs. Gregory), had she not been a servile copy of the above-mentioned lady, would have given much satisfaction; but just and impartial criticism must ever frown upon second-hand acting. If displeasing in no other view, this alone would render it so-bringing to recollection the merit of an original, which must ever strike more than the happiest imitation." It was also discovered, and strongly objected to, that Mrs. Gregory had a very palpable tinge of her national accent, of which she could never entirely divest herself. The ears of the Londoners ever were, and are still, more acute in the detection of exotic peculiarities of this kind, than in the recognition of their own, which are frequently indulged in by public speakers, either in the senate, at the bar, or on the boards, and with greater offence to those whose organs are euphoniously moulded. Mrs. Gregory had spontaneous grace and feeling which smothered up minor blemishes. Even

the example and influence of Garrick had not entirely banished the formal style of declamation, traditionally handed down by Booth and Quin, and still perpetuated by the surviving disciples of that school. Habit with them had constitutionally superseded nature. An acute critic of the day says, "Not only did they swell blank verse to a most disgustful monotonous pomposity, but they even delivered commonplace prose dialogue with measured versification. It may seem strange, but we aver it to be true, that Mr. Delane, who had many fine requisites for a great actor, used to tell Boniface, as Lord Aimwell, in 'The Stratagem'-'I have heard your town of Lichfield much commended for its ale,'-with the same consequential manner and sonorous cadence that he assumed in Pyrrhus, King of Epirus, when replying to the embassy of Orestes."

Mrs. Gregory's successful debut as Hermione obtained for her an engagement for the season. Her next character was Alicia, in "Jane Shore," for Sparks's benefit. This occurred on the 23rd of March. She repeated it on the 28th, for Miss Bellamy's night, which had been appointed to take place sooner, but was postponed on account of what Mrs. Candour calls "pressing reasons.' Tate Wilkinson observes, that Miss B., after this season, and not before it was necessary, wisely dropped the prefix of Miss for the more matronly one of Mrs. Certain scandals which had become notorious were thought in some degree to be shrouded by the change. Alicia is, if possible, a more impulsive and frantic virago than Hermione. An "adorable fury," as French critics qualify their definition of the Roxanes, Camilles, and other intemperate heroines of Corneille and Racine. She almost approaches Boiardo's ungallant description of Marfisa, in the "Orlando Innamorato ""Gatta fiera, cruda, e dispietata " a fierce, cruel, and pitiless cat. But Alicia has been betrayed and abandoned by her lover, and is goaded by the wrongs which impassioned young ladies usually have to complain of who disregard the formal preliminary of the wedding ring. These two parts, in which Mrs. Gregory first proved her strength, she always maintained as the ablest expositions

of her skill. On the 25th of April she performed Hermione for the tenth time, in London, and on the 22nd of May the season closed.

On the 2nd of March, 1754, the Dublin theatre in Smock-alley, then under the management of Mr. Thomas Sheridan, the father of Richard Brinsley, was torn to pieces, at the memorable "Mahomet Row," which has been fully described by Hitchcock and Victor, and also in some preceding numbers of this Magazine. During the temporary eclipse of Sheridan, who retired for two years, in consequence, with bitter mortification at his heart and ruin in his purse, both of which he might have escaped,had he braved the storm he need not have raised, by boldly facing instead of flying it when the explosion took place, he let his theatre to Victor and Sowdon, who having repaired damages and enlisted recruits, opened their first campaign on the 7th of October, 1754. Barry was their great gun, engaged and expected to supply the absence of Sheridan; and at the earnest recommendation of Victor, who had been particularly desired to hear her rehearse, before she made her first attempt in London, and spoke confidently of her abilities, Mrs. Gregory was tempted from Covent Garden, to play the first parts with the Irish Roscius, as Barry was then usually called in Dublin. Her salary was to be £300 for the season, and a benefit. She gladly availed herself of the opportunity of revisiting her native city on such flattering terms and in so conspicuous a position for one who was still in her theatrical novitiate. In direct opposition to the remark we have quoted above from the "Dramatic Censor," Victor and Wilkinson both declare that Mrs. Gregory's chief excellence lay in her own conceptions, and that she copied no one. Young aspirants after honors histrionic are apt to form themselves on the style of some favourite actor they have often seen and admired, and thus become unconscious imitators, as scholars not unfrequently fall into the peculiar habits of their teachers. Young was a devoted Kembleite, and some depreciators said he was merely a cold reflection of his stately model. But this was as unjust as the damning praise of Lord Byron, who called him the essence of

mediocrity. The startling novelty of Edmund Kean's style engendered a legion of avowed imitators, who thought his wonderful effects easy to produce, because they appeared to burst from his genius without apparent premeditation. The followers of Macready were almost as numerous, and not more successful. Charles Kean's occasional flashes, which so vividly call up his father before those who still remember him, are not imitation, but legitimate and hereditary resemblance.

Mrs. Gregory had many friends and a strong party in Dublin, who were prepared to receive her with enthusiasm. She appeared as Hermione, and was greeted by a truly Irish welcome. She followed this by Zara in the "Mourning Bride," the third haughty termagant to which her walk seemed principally confined. The season proceeded prosperously, and wound up on the 9th of June, much to the satisfaction of the managers, as far as reputation was concerned; but Victor says, that on balancing accounts they found themselves little more than saved from mischief. During a run of popularity, great sums often flow into the exchequer of a theatre; but if the corresponding outlay more than swallows them up, the managers are in the predicament of the French dancer at the opera, and must console themselves as he did. He lost £100 by his benefit the first year, and only £50 the second; whereupon he rubbed his hands and exclaimed, "Aha! dis time he is a very good benefice!" In the memoirs of Charles Mathews we find it written, that at the close of what was called the most successful season on record, during his and Frederic Yates's directorship of the Adelphi Theatre, when the house could scarcely contain the crowds who nightly thronged the doors, and they were daily and hourly congratulated on the rapid fortune they were accumulating, the managers balanced their account with a surplus on the wrong side-simply, because the expenses exceeded any possible receipts. The grand arcanum of successful management consists less in the sum you take than in the sum you can contrive to keep. If that represents the algebraic symbol minus-if the bait is more costly than the fish it catches-the maelstrom of

the Bankruptcy Court will speedily engulph the luckless speculator.

At the end of the season of 1754-5, Barry returned to London, and the Dublin managers having determined not to give such large salaries the next year, to avoid Scylla fell into Charybdis. In place of Barry, who had received £800 for himself, and £500 for Miss Nossiter, who accompanied him, they engaged Mossop to perform with them on shares; £40 were to be deducted every night for the expenses, and the surplus was to be divided into three equal parts, of which Mossop was to have one; but the managers forgot to stipulate, as they had done with Barry, that he should be obliged to act a certain number of nights. Mossop, finding it would be equally to his profit, and more to his reputation to play but seldom-as in that case he was sure of a full house-acted only twentyfour times; but the managers were obliged to keep the theatre open 110 nights, and though the receipts were very good when Mossop and Mrs. Gregory appeared, yet the profits accruing to the managers from thence were not more than adequate to defray the losses of the failing audiences on the ordinary stock nights, when the receipts approached to zero. Thus,

in theatrical administration as in everything else, there are wheels within wheels, and complicated machinery which all the calculating powers of a Demoivre cannot regulate with certainty, any more than they can ensure a given throw of the dice when large stakes are on the issue.

Mrs. Gregory, who was re-engaged at the advanced salary of £400, and almost solely for the purpose of acting with Mossop (she being studied in few parts in comedy), was, by his performing so seldom, of much less service to the theatre than she might have been; while Mossop's gains, including benefits, amounted to near £900. As the manager's reliance was chiefly on Mossop and Mrs. Gregory, care was taken to bring them forward to the best advantage. Mossop came out in his favourite character of Zanga, after which he played Richard, Pierre, Horatio, &c. "Barbarossa " was performed for the first time in Dublin on the 2nd of February, 1756. Mossop gave up the part of the tyrant, Barbarossa, in which he

had won so much credit at Drurylane, for the stripling, Achmet, to which he was totally unsuited. "Coriolanus" was revived. This had always been esteemed one of his masterpieces. The stern passion of the character was admirably adapted to his powers. He often wanted variety, but never force. Some elders, who remembered his last act, gave him the preference over Kemble; with less dignity of manner, Mossop's superior voice told with astounding effect.

Mrs. Gregory added much to her reputation in Volumnia, and especially in Zaphira (" Barbarossa "), that being an original character in Dublin. She also proved attractive, in conjunction with Mossop, in Brooke's tragedy of "Injured Honour," as the Countess of Westnroreland. The play was well received and admired by the best judges. At the end of this, their second season, Victor and Sowdon retired from the helm of management to make way for the resumption of authority by their old master, Sheridan. Though well practised in the business of a theatre, the temporary rulers were glad, at the conclusion of their term, to extricate themselves from their arduous position, with credit and without loss.

Mrs. Gregory returned to Covent Garden, where she made an advantageous engagement for the season; and reappeared, after an absence of three years, in her grand cheval de bataille, Hermione, on the 5th of January, 1857. The play proved sufficiently attractive to be repeated on the 7th. On these occasions, Barry was the Orestes, and Mrs. Woffington, Andromache. On the 14th, Mrs. Gregory acted Zara, in the "Mourning Bride;" and on the 21st of February, added much to her previous fame by Calista, in the "Fair Penitent." On the 24th of March, Mrs. Woffington selected the "Fair Penitent" for her benefit, and chose to exhibit herself in Lothario- of all characters on the stage, perhaps, the most unbecoming for a woman to assume. She gained no credit. It was scarcely worth her while to make the unseemly experiment, so near the close of her theatrical career. But that was not foreseen, and arose from a sudden break-down when she was performing Rosalind in "As You