ert." You remember, no doubt, Gresset's poem about the poor
parrot, so called; well, instead of a bird, they make this Vert Vert a
young boy of sixteen, brought up in a girls' convent, and taken out for
a week, during which he goes to Nevers, falls in with garrison officers,
makes love to actresses, sups and gets tipsy at the mess, and, in short,
"gets ideas" of all sorts, with which he returns again to his convent.
If you can conceive this part, acted to the life by a woman, who moves
with more complete _disinvoltura_ in her men's clothes than most men do,
you may imagine something of the personal exhibition at which we
assisted. As for me, my eyes and mouth opened wider and wider, not so
much at the French actress, as at the well-born, well-bred English
audience, who, women as well as men, were in a perfect ecstasy of
amusement and admiration. I certainly never saw more admirable acting,
but neither did I ever see such uncompromising personal exposure and
such perfect effrontery of demeanor. I do not think even ballet-dancers
more indecent than Mademoiselle Dejazet, for their revelations of their
limbs and shapes are partial and momentary, while hers were abiding and
entire through the whole of her performance, which she acted in
tight-fitting knee-breeches and silk stockings; nor did I ever see such
an unflinching representation of unmitigated audacity of carriage, look,
and manner, in any male or female, on or off the stage....

She always wears men's clothes, and is seldom seen without a cigar in
her mouth. She is extremely witty, and famous for her powers of
conversation and pungent repartees. She is plain, and has a disagreeable
harsh shrill voice in speaking; her figure is thin, but straight, and
well made, and her carriage and movements as graceful as they are free
and unembarrassed; her singing voice is sweet, and her singing charming,
and her spirit and talent as an actress incomparable. But if I had not
seen it, I should not have believed that so impudent a performance would
have been tolerated here: tolerated it not only was, but applauded with
enthusiasm; and Mademoiselle Dejazet carries the town before her, being
the least decent actress of the most indecent pieces I ever saw.

Good-bye. Give my love to Dorothy.

Ever yours,
FANNY.

[Offenbach's burlesque Operas were still in the future.]