theatre was rather irregular; but a circumstance had occurred, which was now generally known, I mean the declared admiration of a Royal Duke for this delightful actress, and a wish for her society per manently, on such terms as his peculiar situation alone permitted. He invaded no man's absolute rights- he did not descend to corrupt or debase. Not considering Himself entirely a creature of the state, he had presumed to avow an affection for a woman of the most fascinating description; and his yet unsullied HONOUR was the pledge, that the fruits, if any, of such an union, should be considered most sacredly as his-that he took the duties of a father along with the natural relation. We were now in the ferment of the French reyolution, and it became a crime in the eyes of no small part of the public that Mrs. Jordan had listened to a prince. In spite of his services as a naval officer, and the frank, cordial manners, which were not more the characteristics of his profession than of his own nature, the noble seaman was neither well treated by the govern• ment, nor did his popularity at all compensate a very niggardly establishment. On a sudden, writers in the daily papers became most anxiously solicitous about Mrs. Jordan's family; (as if it had not at all times been the precious jewel of her soul'). What, in the new connexion, be came of Mrs. Jordan's family?' Mr. Ford was elevated by some persons into an injured and deserted man; they neither knew him nor his privity to the advances made by the nòble suitor. They had never seen him at the wing of the theatre, and thrown their eyes, as he must have done, to the private boxes. Mrs. Jordan was not a woman to hoodwink herself in any of her actions she knew the sanctions of law and religion as well as anybody, and their value-this implies that she did not view them with indifference. And had Mr. Ford, as she proposed to him, taken that one step farther, which the Duke could not take, the treaty with the latter would have ended at the moment."

Some heavy pecuniary embarrass ments in which Mrs. Jordan became in volved on account of her daughter Francis (Mrs. Alsop) and Mr. Alsop led to the dissolution of the royal connexion, which took place in April, 1809. Of the real ground of separation between Mrs. Jordan and the duke, nothing has ever been publicly known, nor does Mr. Boaden afford any insight into these transactious or their unfortunate result. The Misses Ford, Dora and Lucy, married a Mr. March of the Ordnance Office, and Colonel Hawker; and soon after, the troubles of their mother reached a climax. We shall

now quote from her own letters, which as they bear no superscription, there is no discovering to whom they are addressed. The following are her own words upon the first rumour of a domestic rupture at Bushv..

With regard to the report of any guarrel with the duke, every day of our past and present lives must give the lie to it. He is an example for half the husbands and fathers in the world-the best of masters-and the most firm and generons of friends. I will, in a day or two, avail myself of your kind offer to contradict those odious and truly wicked reports. I am so ill that I can do nothing myselfbut must wait for the assistance of a good and clever friend, who is at present out of the way, and who (if truth is not quite scared out of the world) will endeavour to do away the ill impressions those reports ́ were meant to make."

"Bath, Sunday, April 22, 1809. "DEAR SIR.I should be more insensible than my heart tells me I am, if F did not experience much gratification from your very kind and friendly letters: friendly they must be; for, though I am ever asking favours of you, I feel it im possible that I can ever return them, My professional success through life, has, indeed, been most extraordinary; and consequently, attended with great emolument. But from my first starting in life, at the early age of fourteen, I have always had a large family to support. My mother was a duty But on brother and sisters I have lavished more money than can be supposed; and more, I am sorry to say, than I can well justify to those who have a stronger and prior claim on my exertions. With regard to myself (as much depends on our ideas of riches), I have certainly enough; but this is too selfish a consideration to weigh one moment against what I consider to be a duty. I am quite tired of the profession. I have lost those great excitements, vanity and emulation. The first has been amply gratified; and the last I see no occasion for; but still without these, it is a mere money-getting drudgery. The enthusiasm of the good people here is really ridienlous; but it brings grist to the mill," and I shall, notwithstanding the great drawback of unsettled weather, clear, between this place and Bristol, from 8001. to 900l. Though I very seldom go out, when from home, I was tempted by my dear girl, to go to a fashionable library to read the papers; and, not being known, was entertained by some ladies with a most pathetic description of the parting

between me and the duke! My very dress was described, and the whole convers. ation accurately repeated! Unfortunately for the party, a lady came in, who im mediately addressed me by name, which threw them into the most ridiculous aud (I conceive) the most unpleasant embarrassment imaginable. In pity to them, I left the place immediately, and flatter myself I did not shew any disgust or illnature on the occasion. · The last favour I asked of you was not to gratify my own vanity, but my best friends, who in spite of the world, are, 1 can with truth assure you, as much interested about me as they were seventeen, years ago. Believe me ever, your trily obliged,

"DORA JORDAN.'"

"While she was acting at Cheltenham, a storm burst upon her totally unexpected, which is thus recorded by an actor, who was at the time in the theatre. She received a letter from his royal highness, desiring her to meet him at Maidenhead, where they were to bid each other farewell. Mrs. Jordan had concluded her engage ment, but remained one night over to perforin Nell, for the manager, Mr. Watson's benefit. It was in the afternoon of this very day she received the fatal letter. With that steady kindness that always distinguished her, she arrived at the theatre dreadfully weakened by a succession of famting fits. She, however, struggled on with Nell, until Jobson arrived at the passage where he has to accuse the conjuror of making her laughing drunk. When the actress here attempted to laugh, the afflicted woman burst into tears. Here Jobson with great presence of mind altered the text, and exclaimed to her-" Why, Nell, the conjuror has not only made thee drunk; he has made thee crying drunk thus covering her personal distress, and carrying her through the scene in character. After the performance, she was put into a travelling chariot in her stage dress, to keep her appointment with the royal duke, in a state of anguish easily to be conceived. What passed at the meeting I would not wish to detail." (If he could, it would have been worth all his book to the curious; and, if he could not, he had no business to undertake it). "After allowing her due time to recover her spirits, and endeavour to do herself justice by making her statement to the regent submitting herself entirely to his judgment, and finally to the generous nature of the duke himself-she thus writes upon the subject of the separation, to her confidential friend. She may now be pardoned for omitting to date the communication. But her mind is still amiVOL. VI

able in its disappointments; and she turns herself unaffectedly to apologize for the rashness by which she has suffered.

LETTER I.

Bushy, Saturday.

"My dear sir,-I received yours and its enclosure safe this morning. My mind is beginning to feel somewhat reconciled to the shock and surprise it has lately received; for could you or the world believe that we never had, for twenty years, the semblance of a quarrel? But this is so well known in our domestic circle, that the astonishment is the greater. Money; money, my good friend, or the want of it, has, I am convinced, made him, at this moment, the most wretched of men; but having done wrong, he does not like to retract. But with all his excellent qualities, his domestic virtues, his love for his lovely children, what must he not at this moment suffer! His distresses should have been relieved before—but this is entre nous. All his letters are full of the most unqualified praise of my conduct; and it is the most heartfelt blessing to know that, to the best of my power, I have endeavoured to deserve it. I have received the greatest kindness and attention from the R-t, and every branch of the royal family, who, in the most unreserved terms, deplore this melancholy business. The whole correspondence is before the Rt; and I am proud to add, that my past and present conduct has secured me a friend, who declares he never will forsake me. My forbearance,' he says, 'is beyond what he could have imagined! But what will not a woman do, who is firmly and sincerely attached? Had he left me to starve, I never would have uttered a word to his disadvantage. I enclose you two other letters; and in a day or two you shall see more, the rest being in the hands of the Rt. And now my dear friend, do not hear the D. of C. unfairly abused; he has done wrong, and he is suffering for it; but, as far as he has left it in his own power, he is doing every thing kind and noble, even to the distressing himself. I thank you sincerely for the friendly caution at the end of your letter, though I trust there will be no occasion for it; but it was kind and friendly, and, as such, I shall ever esteem it. I remain, dear sir, yours sincerely,

DORA JORDAN. "These letters are for your eye alone."

"Dear Sir,-Allow me to thank you for your kind attention to my request. We really live so much in the country, and so entirely within ourselves, that we might be dead and buried without our friends knowing even that we had been ill. I liave the heartfelt happiness of informing you, that the duke is considerably better, though far from being as we could wish; however, his physicians have given his royal highness permission to go to town to-morrow. I have been confined ever since my return, owing to the fatigue and anxiety I have gone through. I fear it will be some time before I recover the very great shock I received. I hear there are to be two Drury Lanes-I believe just as likely as one. Yours ever, DORA JORDAN"

LETTER IV.

"Cadogan Place, Thursday. "My dear Sir,-I fear I must have appeared unmindful of your many kindnesses, in having been such a length of time without writing to you; but really, till very lately, my spirits have been so depressed, that I am sure you will understand my feelings when I say, it cost me more pain to write to those interested about me, than to a common acquaintance; but the constant kindness and attention I meet with from the duke, in every respect but personal interviews (and which depends as much on my feelings as his), has, in a great measure, restored me to my former health and spirits. Among many noble traits of goodness, he has lately added one more that of exonerating me from my promise of not returning to my profession. This he has done under the idea of its benefiting my health, and adding to my pleasures and comforts; and, though it is very uncertain whether I shall ever avail myself of this kindness, yet yon, if you choose, are at liberty to make it known, whether publicly or privately. Yours ever, &c. &c.

DORA JORDAN.

LETTER V.

"St. James's, Tuesday, 7th Dec, "My dear Sir,-I lose not a moment in letting you know, that the Duke of Clarence has concluded and settled on me and his children the most liberal and generous provision; and I trust every thing will siuk into oblivion. Yours ever, DORA JORDAN."

After the battle of Talavera, wherein one of her sons had the honour to serve, she thus writes ;

"Bushy, Thursday, Aug. 17, 1809. "I am very vain, but still I have judg ment enough not to be fond of doing that which I do very ill. Still I feel pleasure in writing to you, who so kindly enter into all my feelings. You may easily guess I heard the account of the battle of Talawhat they were last Monday night, when vera. Five thousand killed the Duke at Brighton! I went to bed, but not to sleep.

"The Duke set out at five o'clock on

the Tuesday, to be the first to relieve ne but it has torn my nerves to pieces. I have from my misery, I am mentally relieved ; fire boys, and must look forward to a life of constant anxiety and suspense. I am at present very ill. Excuse this hasty scrawl, and believe me,

"Your ever obliged,

"DORA JORDAN."

After her separation from the Duke of Clarence, Mrs. Jordan returned to the stage for a short time. She now-how, has never been satisfactorily explained became involved in great pecuniary dithi. culties. There is no doubt the direct cause was certain bills and bonds given to assist her son-in-law; but the amount was not great, (says Mr. Boaden,) when we consider her long and prosperous professional engagements; and the fortune promised to her daughters was not paid, although we must presume she had the means af paying when promised. But the mystery is not cleared up even by the "authentic statement" of these volumes-a statement vague, and unsatisfactory. Her embarrassment, however, is certain— she was obliged to quit England-resided, under another name, and in very melancholy spirit, first at Boulogne, then at Versailles, and finally at St. Cloud, where she died almost broken-hearted, on the 9th of July, 1816.

PAINTING IN ENGLAND AND

ITALY.

MR. NORTHCOTE, in his "Life of Ti tian," has a very striking chapter on the encouragement of Art in England, as compared with Italy. He is of opinion that the difference between the works of En glish and Italian artists, lies altogether in the different degrees of encouragement which each class respectively receives. He thinks, that from the success with which the British have already cultivated every department of genius which was open to them, they would have most certainly triumphed over all the nations of the earth in painting, "had the requisite demand been made to call their efforts into action." He proceeds to argue that it was interest alone that caused the rise of the arts in Italy, and he characteristically observes, that could the fine arts in England be brought to aid the power of the government as much as the rotten boroughs, we should soon see them patronised to such a degree as would quickly cause them to mount to the highest heaven of invention." We quote Mr. Northcote's remarks on this interesting topic, and also his observations of the be nefits which accrued to the arts, from the Roman Catholic religion.

"It was the interest of the Romish Church to impress its subjects by every means in its power with an awful conception of the mysteries of their religion, which it claimed the sole privilege of inculcating. And the chapel of the pope, in which is displayed the representation of the Last Judgment, with colossal figures of prophets and sybils, by the hand of Michael Angelo, strikes the mind (as was foreseen) with profound reverence. All governments, from their nature, act the same, and our own is not exempt from this rule. As we see, that in place of the Last Judgment, our artists have to represent something relative to the battle of Waterloo, &c., and instead of saints and holy apostles, which fill Catholic cathedrals, ours are supplied with sculptured heroes of our army and navy, and in such prodigious abundance, that at first sight, the church in which they are clustered together, has the appearance of a sculptor's work-shop. But paintings, unluckily, are not considered as of any use to the purposes of government in this country, and therefore that department of art is neglected, and left to shift for itself. For, as to the patronage of private individuals, it cannot be expected that even the seven Cartoons of Raphael, or twenty more if added to them, could vie in interest with the portrait of

the husband, the portrait of the wife, the child, the horse, the house, the garden, or the dog of the employer; and of course for these luxuries the demand is perpetual and unlimited, and thousands of artists, of all degrees of ability, find by it a decent maintenance.

"On the politic revival of the arts in Italy, although at first appearing in weak and imperfect efforts, yet the pleasure excited by the novelty alone much assisted their progress. The phenomenon struck the astonished world with wonder, veneration, and delight: it seemed to produce a new era in the creation; and thus admiring and adoring crowds called forth a degree of emulation in the artists equal to its cause; and what might not be expected from such motives? The patronage soon became immense: every church was void of those ornaments, and every altar was to be supplied; and genius thus became animated by the united force of ambition, enthusiasm, and interest; and artists, unawed by critics, brought all their energies to a focas, producing works which seemed to be beyond the powers of man. But the fascinating qualities which novelty possesses are soon set aside by time. The churches at length were filled; and works of art, from their frequency, ceasing to be matter of wonder, they therefore operated with less effect, and were less the object of attention: for mankind will not be surprised more than once with similar results. However, it is to be re marked, that the high credit which so much excellence had acquired, still as sisted by the powerful prejudices of reli gion, kept the arts alive some time after most of the public places had been occupied, and votaries of superstition still required works of art to furnish oratories and private apartments with the represen tations of grand and awful events, such as they had been accustomed to contemplate, and such as are best suited for the pencil of great masters. But this state of the arts also had its period. The vulgar became familiarized to it, and assumed the importance of the critic and the judge, exacting fresh miracles to draw their notice and respect. But what power was ever able to satisfy the unlimited demands of ignorance? which, like a froward child, rejects the toy it possesses and cries for something new, though not of half the value. Thus the ill-fated arts, being deprived of their proper and wonted nourishment, naturally sunk by a slow and gentle decay till they seemed again to expire. As we may perceive, that in their present state, even in Italy itself, in the very bosom of that church which caused their re-animation, and gave them a se

cond existence, scarcely a semblance in point of excellence can be found, nor in the degenerate offspring can we trace a distant likeness to the parent. Fallen from the dignity of being the teachers and directors, they are become the instruments of pleasure only or the ministers of vice. If such is their degraded state even in Italy, what can be expected from modern efforts in other countries, where works are executed under a patronage (if such it can be called) at once both scanty and precarious? Perhaps some private individual, influenced by the whim of the moment, or else some tasteless dealer, whose sole view is gain, gives a casual commission for a work, but effects from such causes can manifest only the stunted growth of avarice or folly-Nothing cun come of nothing.

"We hold the opinion that the Roman Catholic religion is big with evil: yet, on examination, we cannot deny that it has some peculiar advantages. If, for instance, we look into the records of his tory and science, to whom shall we trace the foundation of those numerous semimaries for the promotion of learning, or those splendid buildings, which have employed industry, and called forth taste in their erection, whether colleges, universities, public libraries, schools, churches, or palaces? Are not our thoughts drawn immediately to a Wolsey, the Medicis, Bembo, Farnese, Este, Barberini, Montalto, Ximenes, Rovera, Richelien, or Mazarin, with many others, who having had less power, are of less note? Yet all seemed to concur in one aim, which was that of adopting all men of talents and virtue as their family and kindred; and by providing asylums for those who should arise in after-time, to perpetuate their names to posterity as universal benefactors and everlasting patrons of every species of ability which can dignify mankind. Having themselves been bred in the school of science, they distinguished and valued it in others; and by means of their wellbestowed patronage, have given to the world many individuals eminent either for learning, science, or virtue, that without their fostering care would have been lost to society.

"Again, it may be observed, that when the prime minister of a country has been a Catholic prelate, it has been productive of several advantages: particularly, from his not having the same number of family connections, so nearly allied to him by blood or marriage, as to produce in him a desire to aggrandise them even more than himself. Therefore that portion of natural affection which in others is warped or partially confined, as in fathers of families

to their children, is in him diffused to file more general benefit of mankind at large, as he directs the influence of all his power, and bestows all his superfluous wealth towards the encouragement of learning, the sciences and the arts, which, at the same time that they contribute abundantly to his own glory, most materially assist the welfare of the community.

"The good effects of such praiseworthy examples extend their favourable influence oftentimes where we might least expect it. We have an instance in the Venetian territory, when under its former government. That country, though more absorbed in trade than any other, was yet not so lost to all refinement but that it could follow a laudable example. Hence we find the public halls of each fraternity richly adorned with appropriate paintings, executed by such of their countrymen as had gained the highest eminence in their profession, thus bestowing and receiving hopour at the same time; and further, we often find annexed to those buildings a magnifie‹ nt library, to which the most indigent student has free access.

"As a contrast to the above, we have only to turn to those states where the power and wealth of a kingdom are thrown into the hands of a few grasping individuals, whose sole object is the advancement of their families, who must be accommodated with tities of honour, and who, of course, to support their rank, must be endowed with large pensions, and become a burden on the public. Swarms of such adventurers roll in affluence, whose scanty portion of intellect would hardly fit them for the lowest employments of life. Hence no lofty examples of munificence are held out to excite emulation. The desire of fame by high achievements is never once thought of: nor the appropriating a small part of their abundance to the service of Apolio or the Muses, which they more readily devote to Bacchus. For need it be remarked, that it is the government in all states that forms the character and habits of the people, as parents mould those of their children ?"

DISTINCTION BETWEEN INANIMATE AND LIVING BEINGS.†

THE points in which inanimate and living beings differ from each other are as important as they are numerous. Unorga nized matter is inert, insensible, and un

+ From the Monthly Review-No. LXIV.