her on the spot had they seen her! Her extraordinarily fat legs (whether
padded or not, I don't know) were covered with black-velvet trousers,
ending at the knee and trimmed with lace.

She wore a short-waisted jacket with a short skirt attached and a
voluminous lace ruffle, a curly wig too long for a man and too short for a
woman, upon which sat jauntily a Faust-like hat with a long, sweeping
plume. This was her idea of a medieval Maffeo Orsini. As Azucena, the
mother of a forty-year-old troubadour, she got herself up as a damsel of
sixteen, with a much too short dress and a red bandana around her head,
from which dangled a mass of sequins which she shook coquettishly at the
prompter. The audience did not make any demonstration; they remained
indifferent and tolerant, and there was not a breath of applause. The only
criticism that appeared in the papers was: "Madame Philips, une
Americaine, a fait son apparence dans 'Trovatore.' Elle joue assez bien,
et si sa voix avait l'importance de ses jambes elle aurait eu sans doute
du succes, car elle peut presque chanter." Poor Miss Philips! I felt so
sorry for her. I thought of when I had seen her in America, where she had
such success in the same roles. But why did she get herself up so? There
is nothing like ridicule for killing an artist in France, and any one who
knew the French could have foreseen what her success would be the moment
she came on the stage. She became ill after these two performances and
left Paris.


PARIS, _May 7, 1863._

DEAR M.,--Auber procured us tickets for Meyerbeer's funeral, which took
place to-day; it was a most splendid affair. Auber, who was one of the
pall-bearers, looked very small and much agitated. The music of the church