y." (A woman that Mrs. Siddons was
engaging as cook, replied to the question, "Can you make pastry?" "Well,
no, ma'am--not exactly to say, the very finest of pastry. I can make
plain puddings and pies, but--I am not a professed puff pastry cook, and
I think it best to say so, as every one should stand upon their own
bottom, with fortitude and similarity, I think.")

I act Lady Macbeth on Monday, on Wednesday Queen Katharine, and on
Friday Desdemona, for the first time in my life. I have a beautiful and
correct dress for her (you know I always liked my clothes), for which,
nevertheless, I expect to be much exclaimed against, as our actresses
have always thought proper to dress her in white satin. I have arrayed
her in black (the only habit of the noble Venetian ladies) and gold, in
a dress that looks like one of Titian's pictures.

That smothering scene, my dear Harriet, is most extremely horrible, and
like nothing in the world but the catastrophe of poor Madame de Praslin.
I think I shall make a desperate fight of it, for I feel horribly at the
idea of being murdered in my bed. The Desdemonas that I have seen, on
the English stage, have always appeared to me to acquiesce with
wonderful equanimity in their assassination. On the Italian stage they
run for their lives round their bedroom, Pasta in the opera (and Salvini
in the tragedy, I believe), clutching them finally by the hair of the
head, and then murdering them. The bedgown in which I had arrayed
Desdemona for the night would hardly have admitted of this flight round
the stage; besides that, Shakespeare's text gives no hint of any such
attempted escape on poor Desdemona's part; but I did think I should like
not to be murdered, and therefore, at the last, got up on my knees on my
bed, and threw my arms tight round Othello's neck (having previously
warned Mr. Macready, and begged his pardon for the liberty), that being
my notion of the poor creature's last appeal for mercy.

What do you think of our fine ladies amusing themselves with giving
parties, at which they, and their guests, take chloroform as a pastime?
Lady Castlereagh set the example, and was describing to me her
sensations under the process. I told her how imprudent and wrong I
thought such experiments, and mentioned to her the lecture Brand gave
upon the subject, in which the poor little guinea-pig, who underwent his
illustrations for the benefit of the audience, died on the table during
the lecture; to