enjoyment! When I got home, corrected the proof-sheets of
"Francis I.," and thought it looked quite pretty in print.

Out so late dancing, Wednesday and Thursday nights, or rather
_mornings_, that I had no time for journal-writing. What a life I
do lead!

_Friday, May 13th._--At twelve o'clock to Bridgewater House for our
first rehearsal of "Hernani." Lady Francis wants us to go down to
them at Oatlands. I should like of all things to see Weybridge once
more; there's many a nook and path in those woods that I know
better than their owners. The rehearsal lasted till three, and was
a tolerably tidy specimen of amateur acting. Mr. Craven is really
very good, and I shall like to act with him very much, and Mr. St.
Aubin is very fair. Was introduced to Mrs. Bradshaw, whose looks
rather disappointed me, because she "did contrive to make herself
look so beautiful" on the stage, in Clari and Mary Copp and
everything she did; I suppose her exquisite acting got into her
face, somehow. Henry Greville is delightful, and I like him very
much. When we left Bridgewater House we drove to my aunt Siddons's.
Every time I see that magnificent ruin some fresh decay makes
itself apparent in it, and one cannot but feel that it must soon
totter to its fall.

What a price she has paid for her great celebrity!--weariness,
vacuity, and utter deadness of spirit. The cup has been so highly
flavored that life is absolutely without savor or sweetness to her
now, nothing but tasteless insipidity. She has stood on a pinnacle
till all things have come to look flat and dreary; mere shapeless,
colorless, level monotony to her. Poor woman! what a fate to be
condemned to, and yet how she has been envied, as well as admired!

After dinner had only just time to go over my part and drive to the
theater. My dear, delightful Portia! The house was good, but the
audience dull, and I acted dully to suit them; but I hope my last
dress, which was beautiful, consoled them. What with sham business
and real business, I have had a busy day.

_Saturday, May 14th._--Received a note from Theodosia [Lady
Monson], and a whole cargo of delicious flowers from Cassiobury.
She writes me that poor old Foster [an old cottager who lived in
Lord Essex's park and whom my friend and I used to visit] is d