played in the country with Macready, was with him in Dublin, and acted with him in Edinburgh and Glasgow in 1829–30; she was thus seen in ‘Jane Shore’ by Christopher North, who describes her in the ‘Noctes Ambrosianæ’ as ‘an actress not only of great talent, but of genius—a very lovely woman—and, like Miss Jarman, altogether a lady in private life.’
In April 1828 Miss Smithson accompanied Macready to Paris, and appeared at the Salle Favart (Théâtre Italien) in Desdemona, in which character she made a profound impression, further strengthened by her appearance as Virginia in ‘Virginius.’ Next spring she returned to London, and made her first appearance at Covent Garden as Belvidera in ‘Venice Preserved’ on 11 April, when Genest declared her much improved. In November 1832 she was again in Paris, and engaged the Théâtre Italien and the Odéon, acting on alternate nights; opening the former house with ‘Jane Shore,’ in which she played the heroine, and the latter with Kenney's ‘Raising the Wind.’ An effort to engage Macready failed in consequence of the terms he demanded, and the actress, who was supported by an actor named Archer, remained the chief attraction. ‘Jane Shore’ ran for twenty-five nights. Macready states that when in that piece she declared that she had not tasted food for three long days, a deep murmur ‘Oh, mon Dieu!’ audible through the house, showed how complete was the illusion she created. In Juliet and in Ophelia she achieved her greatest triumphs. It was the period when in France romanticism was rampant, and Miss Smithson raised the enthusiasm on behalf of Shakespeare to its height. Her Irish accent, an obstacle to her success in London, was unperceived in Paris, and she was for some months the rage with the enthusiastic but volatile public of that city. Years later her name survived, and her pathetic outbursts and powerful gestures were commended by Théophile Gautier.
Among those most passionately enamoured of her and her art was Hector Berlioz, the musical composer, whose memoirs are full of extravagant utterances concerning ‘la belle Smidson,’ the ‘artiste inspirée dont tout Paris délirait.’ Poor, and as yet unknown, he dared to make advances to her which filled her with consternation rather than delight. But the success of the English theatre in Paris was not sustained. A trip to Amsterdam and to French provincial towns—such as Havre, Rouen, and Bordeaux—had an effect upon Miss Smithson's finances opposite to that desired, and her company had to be disbanded. Vanity had led her into many extravagances. The Parisian public proved fickle, and she had the misfortune to break her leg above the ankle in getting out of her carriage. Berlioz returned from Italy in the summer of 1833, and found her burdened with debts. He chivalrously renewed his offer, and was married to Miss Smithson early in October at the British Embassy, Paris. The announcement in the ‘Court Journal’ is ungraciously coupled with the expression of a wish that the marriage would prevent her reappearance on the English boards. Though Horace Smith wrote of her ‘picturesque variety’ of pose, English opinion was almost uniformly hostile to her, and even attributed her accident to a theatrical ruse. It is scarcely surprising that she had no wish in later life to revisit Great Britain.
A special performance was given in Paris at the Théâtre Italien with a view towards paying the debts of the bride. The programme comprised the ‘Antony’ of Alexandre Dumas, supported by Madame Dorval and Firmin, the fourth act of ‘Hamlet,’ and a performance of Berlioz's ‘Symphonie Fantastique,’ ‘Sardanapale,’ and an overture to ‘Les Francs-Juges.’ The sum obtained, seven thousand francs, was inadequate, and the result was mortification to the actress, who, on her rising with difficulty from the stage as Ophelia, did not even receive a call, and saw all the homage accorded to Madame Dorval. She did not again appear on the stage. Sharing her husband's privations, she became, according to his statement, sharp-tempered, jealous, and exacting. In 1840 husband and wife separated by mutual consent, and Berlioz chose another partner. He saw his wife occasionally, and contributed to her support. During the last four years of her life she suffered from paralysis, depriving her of speech and motion. An inscription in the cemetery of Montmartre reads: ‘Henriette Constance Berlioz Smithson, neé à Ennis en Irlande, morte à Montmartre le 3 mars 1854.’ Ten years later her remains were disinterred and placed in a vault in the larger cemetery of Montmartre, next those of the second wife of Berlioz. By Berlioz she left a son, Louis, who entered the navy and was with the French fleet in the Baltic in 1855, but predeceased his father; the latter died at Paris on 8 March 1869.
A portrait of her, described as of Henrietta Smithson, by R. E. Drummond, stippled by J. Thomson, is among the engraved portraits at South Kensington. A portrait of her as Maria, presumably in the ‘Wild Goose Chase,’ accompanies her life in Oxberry's ‘Dramatic Biography. A portrait as Mar-
