Читать книгу Journal of a Residence in America - Fanny Kemble - Страница 40

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Rose at eight. At twelve, went to rehearsal. The weather is intolerable; I am in a state of perpetual fusion. The theatre is the coolest place I have yet been in, I mean at rehearsal; when the front is empty, and the doors open, and the stage is so dark that we are obliged to rehearse by candlelight. That washed-out man, who failed in London when he acted Romeo with me, is to be my Fazio; let us hope he will know some of his words to-morrow night, for he is at present most innocent of any such knowledge. After rehearsal, walked into a shop to buy some gauze: the shopmen called me by my name, entered into conversation with us; and one of them, after showing me a variety of things which I did not want, said, that they were most anxious to show me every attention, and render my stay in this country agreeable. A Christian, I suppose, would have met these benevolent advances with an infinitude of thankfulness, and an outpouring of grateful pleasure; but for my own part, though I had the grace to smile and say, "Thank you," I longed to add, "but be so good as to measure your ribands, and hold your tongue." I have no idea of holding parley with clerks behind a counter, still less of their doing so with me. So much for my first impression of the courtesy of this land of liberty. I should have been much better pleased if they had called me "Ma'am," which they did not. We dined at three. V—— and Colonel—— called after dinner. At seven, went to the theatre. It was my dear father's first appearance in this new world, and my heart ached with anxiety. The weather was intensely hot, yet the theatre was crowded: when he came on, they gave him what every body here calls an immense reception; but they should see our London audience get up, and wave hats and handkerchiefs, and shout welcome as they do to us. The tears were in my eyes, and all I could say was, "They might as well get up, I think." My father looked well, and acted beyond all praise; but oh, what a fine and delicate piece of work this is! There is not one sentence, line, or word of this part which my father has not sifted grain by grain; there is not one scene or passage to which he does not give its fullest and most entire substance, together with a variety that relieves the intense study of the whole with wonderful effect.

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I think that it is impossible to conceive Hamlet more truly, or execute it more exquisitely, than he does. The refinement, the tenderness, the grace, dignity, and princely courtesy with which he invests it from beginning to end, are most lovely; and some of the slighter passages, which, like fine tints to the incapable eyes of blindness, must always pass unnoticed, and, of course, utterly uncomprehended, by the discriminating public, enchanted me.

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His voice was weak, from nervousness and the intolerable heat of the weather, and he was not well dressed, which was a pity.

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The play was well got up, and went off very well. The—— were there, a regiment of them; also Colonel—— and Captain——. After the play, came home to supper.