le and
I made the tour in Italy already mentioned, we visited Catalani (then
Madame Valabreque) in a villa near Florence, to which she retired in her
old age. She, however, died in Paris, of cholera, some years later.

Somerville liked the theatre as much as I did; so we saw all the
greatest actors of the day, both in tragedy and comedy, and the English
theatre was then excellent. Young, who was scarcely inferior to John
Kemble, Macready, Kean, Liston, &c., and Miss O'Neill, who after a short
brilliant career entered into domestic life on her marriage with Sir
William Beecher, were all at the height of their fame. It was then I
became acquainted with Lady Beecher, who was so simple and natural that
no one could have discovered she had ever been on the stage. A very
clever company of French comedians acted in a temporary theatre in
Tottenham Court Road, where we frequently went with a party of friends,
and enjoyed very pleasant evenings. I think my fondness for the theatre
depended to a certain degree on my silent disposition; for unless among
intimate friends, or when much excited, I was startled at the sound of
my own voice in general conversation, from the shyness which has
haunted me through life, and starts up occasionally like a ghost in my
old age. At a play I was not called upon to make any exertion, but could
enjoy at my ease an intellectual pleasure for the most part far superior
to the general run of conversation.

* * * * *

Among many others, we were intimate with Dr. and Mrs. Baillie and his
sisters. Joanna was my dear and valued friend to the end of her life.
When her tragedy of "Montfort" was to be brought on the stage,
Somerville and I, with a large party of her relations and friends, went
with her to the theatre. The play was admirably acted, for Mrs. Siddons
and her brother John Kemble performed the principal parts. It was warmly
applauded by a full house, but it was never acted again. Some time
afterwards "The Family Legend," founded on a Highland story, had better
success in Edinburgh; but Miss Baillie's plays, though highly poetical,
are not suited to the stage. Miss Mitford was more successful, for some
of her plays were repeatedly acted. She excelled also as a writer. "Our
Village" is perfect of its kind; nothing can be more animated than her
description of a game of cricket. I met with Miss Austin's novels at
this time, and thought them excellent, especially "Pride and Pr