happened to be the object which fixed his tenacious attention, which,
dark, cropped and curly, struck him as a particularly well-organized
_brutus_, and better than any in his repertoire of theatrical perukes.
Succeeding at last in his feline and fixed purpose, he actually stuck his
claws in my locks, and, addressing me in the deepest sepulchral tones,
asked, 'Little girl, where did you get your wig?' Lord Erskine came to the
rescue and liberated my head, and all tried to retrieve the awkwardness of
the scene. Meanwhile, Kemble, peevish, as half-tipsy people generally are,
drew back muttering and fumbling in his pocket, evidently with some dire
intent lowering in his eyes. To the amusement of all, and to my increased
consternation, he drew forth a volume of the _Wild Irish Girl_, and
reading with his deep, emphatic voice one of the most high-flown of its
passages, he paused, and patting the page with his fore finger, with the
look of Hamlet addressing Polonius, he said, 'Little girl, why did you
write such nonsense? and where did you get all those damned hard words?'
Thus taken by surprise, and smarting with my wounds of mortified
authorship, I answered unwittingly and witlessly the truth: 'Sir, I wrote
as well as I could, and I got the hard words from--Johnson's Dictionary.'
He was soon carried off to prevent any more attacks on my head, inside or
out."

Glorvina was now very much the fashion, visiting in the best Dublin
society and making many friends, whom she had the tact to retain through
life. When articles of dress or ornament are named for one, it is an
unfailing sign that they have attained notoriety, if not fame, and the
bodkin used for fastening the "back hair" was called "Glorvina" in her
honor. Like many attractive women of decided character, she had her full
share of faults and foibles. Superficial, conceited, sadly lacking in
spirituality and refinement, a cruel enemy, a toady to titles, a blind
partisan of the Liberal party,--that is her picture in shadow. Her style
was open to severe criticism, and Richard Lovell Edgeworth suggests mildly
that Maria, in reading her novel aloud in the family circle, was obliged
to omit some superfluous epithets.

In this first flush of celebrity she never gave up work, holding fast to
industry as her sheet-anchor. Soon appeared two volumes of patriotic
tales. _Ida of Athens_ was Novel No. 3, but written in confident haste,
and not well received. The names of her books