The exception was Mrs. Hare, who, not aware that at Paris people never go en grande toilette to the theatres, came so smartly dressed, that, seeing our simple toilettes, she was afraid of incurring observation if she presented herself in a rich dress with short sleeves, a gold tissue turban with a bird-of-paradise plume, and an aigrette of coloured stones; so she went to our house, with a few of the party, while I accompanied the rest to the theatre.

The piece was Faust, adapted from Goethe, and was admirably performed, more especially the parts of “Mephistopheles” and “Margaret,” in which Madame Dorval acts inimitably.  This actress has great merit; and the earnestness of her manner, and the touching tones of her voice, give a great air of truth to her performances.  The prison-scene was powerfully acted; and the madness of “Margaret” when stretched on her bed of straw, resisting the vain efforts of her lover to rescue her, had a fearful reality.

The character of “Margaret” is a fine conception, and Goethe has wrought it out beautifully.  The simplicity, gentleness, and warm feelings of the village maiden, excite a strong interest for her, even when worked upon by Vanity; that alloy which, alas for Woman’s virtue and happiness! is too frequently found mixed up in the pure ore of her nature.

The childish delight with which poor “Margaret” contemplates the trinkets presented by her lover; the baleful ascendency acquired over her by her female companion; and her rapid descent in the path of evil when, as is ever the case, the commission of one sin entails so many, render this drama a very effective moral lesson.

Of all Goethe’s works, Faust is the one I most like; and, of all his female characters, “Margaret” is that which I prefer.  A fine vein of philosophy runs through the whole of this production, in which the vanity of human knowledge without goodness was never more powerfully exemplified.

“Faust,” tempted by the desire of acquiring forbidden knowledge, yields up his soul to the evil one; yet still retains enough of the humanity of his nature to render him wretched, when her he loves, and has drawn ruin on, suffers the penalty of his crime and of her love.

Exquisitely has Goethe wrought out the effects of the all-engrossing passion of the poor “Margaret”—­a passion that even in madness, still clings to its object with all woman’s tenderness and devotion, investing even insanity with the touching charm of love.  How perfect is the part when, endeavouring to pray, the hapless “Margaret” fancies that she hears the gibbering of evil spirits interrupting her supplications, so that even the consolation of addressing the Divinity is denied her!

But the last scene—­that in the prison—­is the most powerful of all.  Never was madness more touchingly delineated, or woman’s nature more truly developed;—­that nature so little understood by those who are so prone to pervert it, and whose triumphs over its virtues are always achieved by means of the excess of that propensity to love, and to believe in the truth of the object beloved, which is one of the most beautiful characteristics in woman; though, wo to her! it is but too often used to her undoing.