irst," with (to my
infinite astonishment) "tenth edition" upon it, I said to a friend, "I
suppose this was a bit of bookseller's puffery; or did each edition
consist of three copies?" He replied, "Oh, no, I think not; you have
forgotten the _furor_ there was about you when this came out." At twenty
I believed it _all_; at sixty-eight I find it difficult to believe _any_
of it.

It is certain, however, that I played Juliet upward of a hundred and
twenty times running, with all the irregularity and unevenness and
immature inequality of which I have spoken as characteristics which were
never corrected in my performances. My mother, who never missed one of
them, would sometimes come down from her box and, folding me in her
arms, say only the very satisfactory words, "Beautiful, my dear!" Quite
as often, if not oftener, the verdict was, "My dear, your performance
was not fit to be seen! I don't know how you ever contrived to do the
part decently; it must have been by some knack or trick which you appear
to have entirely lost the secret of; you had better give the whole thing
up at once than go on doing it so disgracefully ill." This was awful,
and made my heart sink down into my shoes, whatever might have been the
fervor of applause with which the audience had greeted my performance.

My life now became settled in its new shape. I acted regularly three
times a week; I had no rehearsals, since "Romeo and Juliet" went on
during the whole season, and so my mornings were still my own. I always
dined in the middle of the day (and invariably on a mutton-chop, so that
I might have been a Harrow boy, for diet); I was taken by my aunt early
to the theater, and there in my dressing-room sat through the entire
play, when I was not on the stage, with some piece of tapestry or
needlework, with which, during the intervals of my tragic sorrows, I
busied my fingers; my thoughts being occupied with the events of my next
scene and the various effects it demanded. When I was called for the
stage, my aunt came with me, carrying my train, that it might not sweep
the dirty floor behind the scenes; and after spreading it out and
adjusting its folds carefully, as I went on, she remained at the side
scene till I came off again, then gathered it on her arm, and, folding a
shawl around me, escorted me back to my dressing-room and tapestry; and
so my theatrical evenings were passed. My parents would not allow me to
go into the green-room, where they t