Rose late. After breakfast, went to rehearsal: my Bizarre is getting a little more into shape. After rehearsal, came home. Mr. —— and Mr. —— called, and sat some time with me. The former is tolerably pleasant, but a little too fond of telling good stories that he has told before. Put out things for the theatre: dined at three. Colonel —— called. Wrote journal: while doing so, was called out to look at my gown, which the worthy milliner had sent home.
She took it back to alter it. Presently arrived my wreath, and that had also to be taken back; for 't was nothing like what I had ordered. Now all this does not provoke me; but the thing that does, is the dreadful want of manners of the tradespeople here. They bolt into your room without knocking, nod to you, sit down, and without the preface of either Sir, Ma'am, or Miss, start off into "Well now, I'm come to speak about so and so." At six, went to the theatre; play, the Hunchback: the house was crammed from floor to ceiling. I had an intense headach, but played tolerably well. I wore my red satin, and looked like a bonfire. Came home and found Smith's Virginia, and two volumes of Graham's America, which I want to read. They charge twelve dollars for these: every thing is horribly dear here. Came to bed with my head splitting.
Played Bizarre for the first time. Acted so-so, looked very pretty, the house was very fine, and my father incomparable: they called for him after the play. Colonel —— and Mr. —— called in while we were at supper.
Rose late: when I came in to breakfast, found Colonel —— sitting in the parlour. He remained for a long time, and we had sundry discussions on topics manifold. It seems that the blessed people here were shocked at my having to hear the coarseness of Farquhar's Inconstant—humbug![21]
* * * * *
* * * * *
At twelve, went out shopping, and paying bills; called upon Mrs. ——, and sat some time with her and Mrs. ——; left a card at Mrs. ——'s, and came home, prepared things for our journey, and dressed for dinner. On our way to Mr. ——'s, my father told me he had been seeing Miss Clifton, the girl they want him to teach to act; (to teach to act, quotha!!!) He says, she is very pretty indeed, with fine eyes, a fair delicate skin, and a handsome mouth; moreover, a tall woman, and yet from the front of the house her effect is nought. What a pity, and a provoking! A pleasant dinner, very. Mr. —— the poet, one Dr. ——, Colonel ——, and Mr. ——: the only woman was a Miss ——.
* * * * *
* * * * *
——'s face reminded me of young ——: the countenance was not quite so good, but there was the same radiant look about the eyes and forehead. His expression was strongly sarcastic; I liked him very much notwithstanding. When we left the men, we had the pleasure of the children's society, and that of an unhappy kitten, whom a little pitiless urchin of three years old was carrying crumpled under her arm like a pincushion. The people here make me mad by abusing Lawrence's drawing of me. If ever there was a refined and intellectual work, where the might of genius triumphing over every material impediment has enshrined and embodied spirit itself, it is that. Talking of Lawrence, (poor Lawrence!) Mrs. —— said, "Ah, yes! your picture by—a—Sir—something—Lawrence!" Oh, fame! oh, fame! Oh, vanity and vexation of spirit! does your eternity and your infinitude amount to this? There are lands where Shakspeare's name was never heard, where Raphael and Handel are unknown; to be sure, for the matter of that, there are regions (and those wide ones too) where Jesus Christ is unknown. At nine o'clock, went to the Richmond Hill theatre, to see the opening of the Italian company. The house itself is a pretty little box enough, but as bad as a box to sing in. We went to Mr. ——'s box, where he was kind enough to give us seats. The first act was over, but we had all the benefit of the second. I had much ado not to laugh: and when Mr. ——, that everlasting giggler, came and sat down beside me, I gave myself up for lost. However, I did behave, in spite of two blue-bottles of women, who by way of the sisters buzzed about the stage, singing enough to set one's teeth on edge. Then came a very tall Dandini; by the by, that man had a good bass voice, but Mr. —— said it was the finest he had heard since Zucchelli. O tempora! O mores! Zucchelli, that prince of delicious baritones! However, as I said, the man has a good bass voice; there was also a sufficiently good Pompolino. Montresor banged himself about, broke his time, and made some execrable flourishes in the Prince, whereat the enlightened New Yorkians applauded mightily. But the Prima Donna! but the Cenerentola! Cospetto di Venere, what a figure, and what a face! Indeed she was the very thing for a lower housemaid, and I think the Prince was highly to blame for removing her from the station nature had evidently intended her for. She was old and ugly, and worse than ugly, unpardonably common-looking, with a cast in her eye, and a foot that, as Mr. —— observed, it would require a pretty considerable large glass slipper to fit. Then she sang—discords and dismay, how she did sing! I could not forbear stealing a glance at ——: he applauded the sestett vehemently; but when it came to that most touching "nacqui al' affanno," he wisely interposed his handkerchief between the stage and his gracious countenance. I thought of poor dear ——, and her sweet voice, and her refined taste, and shuddered to hear this favourite of hers bedevilled by such a Squalini. Now is it possible that people can be such fools as to fancy this good in spite of their senses, or such earless asses (that's a bull I suppose), as to suffer themselves to be persuaded that it is? Though why do I ask it? Oh yes, "very easily possible." Do not half the people in London spend money and time without end, enduring nightly penances—listening to what they can't understand, and couldn't appreciate if they did? I suppose if I shall allow a hundred out of the whole King's Theatre audience to know any thing whatever about music, I am wide in my grant of comprehension. There was that virtuous youth, Mr. ——, who evidently ranks as one of the cognoscenti here, who exclaimed triumphantly at the end of one of the perpetrations, "Well, after all, there's nothing like Rossini." Handel, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, and Weber, are not, that is certain.[22] I wish I could have seen Mr. —— during that finale. Coming out, were joined by Mr. ——: brought him home in the carriage with us. Gave him "Ye mariners of Spain," and some cold tongue, to take the taste of the Cenerentola out of his mouth. He stayed some time. I like him enough: he is evidently a clever man, though he does murder the King's English. (By the by, does English, the tongue, belong, in America, to the King or the President—I wonder? I should rather think, from my limited observations, that it was the individual property of every freeborn citizen of the United States.) Now, what on earth can I say to the worthy citizens, if they ask me what I thought of the Italian opera? That it was very amusing—yes, that will do nicely; that will be true, and not too direct a condemnation of their good taste.
Rose late. Young —— breakfasted with us. How unfortunately plain he is! His voice is marvellously like his father's, and it pleased me to hear him speak therefore. He was talking to my father about the various southern and western theatres, and bidding us expect to meet strange coadjutors in those lost lands beyond the world. On one occasion, he said, when he was acting Richard the Third, some of the underlings kept their hats on while he was on the stage, whereat —— remonstrated, requesting them in a whisper to uncover, as they were in the presence of a king; to which admonition he received the following characteristic reply: "Fiddlestick! I guess we know nothing about kings in this country." Colonel —— called too; but D—— and I went off to church, and left my father to entertain them. Met Mr. —— and Mr. ——, who were coming to fetch us: went to Mr. ——'s pew. The music was very delightful; but decidedly I do not like music in church. The less my senses are appealed to in the house of prayer, the better for me and my devotions. Although I have experienced excitement of a stern and martial, and sometimes of a solemn, nature, from music, yet these melt away, and its abiding influence with me is of a much softer kind: therefore, in church, I had rather dispense with it, particularly when they sing psalms, as they did to-day, to the tune of "Come dwell with me, and be my love." I did not like the sermon much; there was effect in it, painting, which I dislike. Staid the sacrament, the first I have taken in this strange land. Mr. —— walked home with us: when he was gone, Mr. —— and Mr. —— called. When they had all taken their departure, settled accounts, wrote journal, wrote to my mother, came and put away sundry things, and dressed for dinner. My father dined with Mr. ——: D—— and I dined tête-à-tête. Colonel —— came twice through the pouring rain to look after our baggage for to-morrow; such charity is unexampled.
Rose (oh, horror!) at a quarter to five. Night was still brooding over the earth. Long before I was dressed, the first voice I heard was that of Colonel ——, come to look after our luggage, and see us off. To lend my friend a thousand pounds (if I had it) I could—to lend him my horse, perhaps I might; but to get up in the middle of the night, and come dawdling in the grey cold hour of the morning upon damp quays, and among dusty packages, except for my own flesh and blood, I could not. Yet this worthy man did it for us; whence I pronounce that he must be half a Quaker himself, for no common episcopal benevolence could stretch this pitch. Dressed, and gathered together my things, and at six o'clock, just as the night was folding its soft black wings, and rising slowly from the earth, we took our departure from that mansion of little ease, the American, and our fellow-lodgers the ants, and proceeded to the Philadelphia steam-boat, which started from the bottom of Barclay Street. We were recommended to this American Hotel as the best and most comfortable in New York; and truly the charges were as high as one could have paid at the Clarendon, in the land of comfort and taxation. The wine was exorbitantly dear; champagne and claret about eleven shillings sterling a bottle; sherry, port, and madeira, from nine to thirteen. The rooms were a mixture of French finery and Irish disorder and dirt; the living was by no means good; the whole house being conducted on a close scraping system of inferior accommodations and extravagant charges. On a sudden influx of visiters, sitting-rooms were converted into bed-rooms, containing four and five beds. The number of servants was totally inadequate to the work; and the articles of common use, such as knives and spoons, were so scantily provided, that when the public table was very full one day, the knives and forks for our dinner were obliged to be washed from theirs; and the luxury of a carving-knife was not to be procured at all on that occasion: it is true that they had sometimes as many as two hundred and fifty guests at the ordinary. The servants, who, as I said before, were just a quarter as many as the house required, had no bed-rooms allotted to them, but slept about any where, in the public rooms, or on sofas in drawing-rooms, let to private families. In short, nothing can exceed the want of order, propriety, and comfort in this establishment, except the enormity of the tribute it levies upon pilgrims and wayfarers through the land.[23] And so, as I said, we departed therefrom nothing loath.
The morning was dull, dreary, and damp, which I regretted very much. The steam-boat was very large and commodious, as all these conveyances are. I enquired of one of the passengers what the power of the engine was: he replied that he did not exactly know, but that he thought it was about forty-horse power; and that, when going at speed, the engine struck thirty times in a minute: this appeared to me a great number in so short a time; but the weather shortly became wet and drizzly, and I did not remain on deck to observe. My early rising had made me very sleepy, so I came down to the third deck to sleep. These steam-boats have three stories; the upper one is, as it were, a roofing or terrace on the leads of the second, a very desirable station when the weather is neither too foul nor too fair; a burning sun being, I should think, as little desirable there as a shower of rain. The second floor or deck has the advantage of the ceiling above, and yet, the sides being completely open, it is airy, and allows free sight of the shores on either hand. Chairs, stools, and benches, are the furniture of these two decks. The one below, or third floor downwards, in fact, the ground floor, being the one near the water, is a spacious room completely roofed and walled in, where the passengers take their meals, and resort if the weather is unfavourable. At the end of this room is a smaller cabin for the use of the ladies, with beds and a sofa, and all the conveniences necessary, if they should like to be sick; whither I came and slept till breakfast time. Vigne's account of the pushing, thrusting, rushing, and devouring on board a western steam-boat at meal times had prepared me for rather an awful spectacle; but this, I find, is by no means the case in these more civilised parts, and every thing was conducted with perfect order, propriety, and civility. The breakfast was good, and served and eaten with decency enough. Came up on the upper deck, and walked about with my father. The width of the river struck me as remarkable; but the shores were flat, and for the most part uninteresting, except for the rich and various tints which the thickets of wood presented, and which are as superior in brilliancy and intenseness to our autumnal colouring as their gorgeous skies are to ours. Opposite the town of Amboy, the Raritan opens into a magnificent lake-like expanse round the extreme point of Staten Island.[24] As the shores on either side, however, were not very interesting, I finished reading Combe's book. There is much sound philosophy in it; but I do not think it altogether establishes the main point that he wishes to make good—the truth of phrenology, and the necessity of its being adopted as the only science of the human mind. His general assertions admit of strong individual exceptions, which, I think, go far towards invalidating the generality. However, 'tis not a full development of his own system, but, as it were, only an introduction to it; and his own admissions of the obscurity and uncertainty in which that system is still involved necessarily enforces a suspension of judgment, until its practical results have become more manifest, and in some measure borne witness to the truth of his theory. At about half-past ten we reached the place where we leave the river, to proceed across a part of the State of New Jersey to the Delaware. The landing was beyond measure wretched: the shore shelved down to the water's edge; and its marshy, clayey, sticky soil, rendered doubly soft and squashy by the damp weather, was strewn over with broken potsherds, stones, and bricks, by way of pathway; these, however, presently failed, and some slippery planks half immersed in mud were the only roads to the coaches that stood ready to receive the passengers of the steam-boat. Oh, these coaches! English eye hath not seen, English ear hath not heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of Englishmen to conceive the surpassing clumsiness and wretchedness of these leathern inconveniences. They are shaped something like boats, the sides being merely leathern pieces, removable at pleasure, but which, in bad weather, are buttoned down, to protect the inmates from the wet. There are three seats in this machine; the middle one, having a movable leathern strap, by way of a dossier, runs between the carriage doors, and lifts away to permit the egress and ingress of the occupants of the other seats. Into the one facing the horses D—— and I put ourselves; presently two young ladies occupied the opposite one; a third lady, and a gentleman of the same party, sat in the middle seat, into which my father's huge bulk was also squeezed; finally, another man belonging to the same party ensconced himself between the two young ladies. Thus the two seats were filled, each with three persons, and there should by rights have been a third on ours; for this nefarious black hole on wheels is intended to carry nine. However, we profited little by the space, for, letting alone that there is not really and truly room for more than two human beings of common growth and proportions on each of these seats, the third place was amply filled up with baskets and packages of ours, and huge undoubleableup coats and cloaks of my father's.
For the first few minutes I thought I must have fainted from the intolerable sensation of smothering which I experienced. However, the leathers having been removed, and a little more air obtained, I took heart of grace, and resigned myself to my fate. Away wallopped the four horses, trotting with their front and galloping with their hind legs; and away went we after them, bumping, thumping, jumping, jolting, shaking, tossing, and tumbling, over the wickedest road, I do think the cruellest hard-heartedest road, that ever wheel rumbled upon. Thorough bog and marsh, and ruts wider and deeper than any christian ruts I ever saw, with the roots of trees protruding across our path; their boughs every now and then giving us an affectionate scratch through the windows; and, more than once, a half-demolished trunk or stump lying in the middle of the road lifting us up, and letting us down again, with most awful variations of our poor coach body from its natural position. Bones of me! what a road![25] Even my father's solid proportions could not keep their level, but were jerked up to the roof and down again every three minutes. Our companions seemed nothing dismayed by these wondrous performances of a coach and four, but laughed and talked incessantly, the young ladies, at the very top of their voices, and with the national nasal twang.[26] The conversation was much of the genteel shopkeeper kind; the wit of the ladies, and the gallantry of the gentlemen, savouring strongly of tapes and yard measures, and the shrieks of laughter of the whole set enough to drive one into a frenzy. The ladies were all pretty; two of them particularly so, with delicate fair complexions, and beautiful grey eyes: how I wish they could have held their tongues for two minutes! We had not long been in the coach before one of them complained of being dreadfully sick.[27] This, in such a space, and with seven near neighbours! Fortunately she was near the window; and during our whole fourteen miles of purgatory she alternately leaned from it overcome with sickness, then reclined languishingly in the arms of her next neighbour, and then, starting up with amazing vivacity, joined her voice to the treble duet of her two pretty companions, with a superiority of shrillness that might have been the pride and envy of Billingsgate. 'Twas enough to bother a rookery! The country through which we passed was woodland, flat, and without variety, save what it derived from the wondrous richness and brilliancy of the autumnal foliage. Here indeed decay is beautiful; and nature appears more gorgeously clad in this her fading mantle, than in all the summer's flush of bloom in our less-favoured climates.[28] I noted several beautiful wild flowers growing among the underwood; some of which I have seen adorning with great dignity our most cultivated gardens.[29] None of the trees had any size or appearance of age: they are the second growth, which have sprung from the soil once possessed by a mightier race of vegetables. The quantity of mere underwood, and the number of huge black stumps rising in every direction a foot or two from the soil, bear witness to the existence of fine forest timber. The few cottages and farm-houses which we passed reminded me of similar dwellings in France and Ireland; yet the peasantry here have not the same excuse for disorder and dilapidation as either the Irish or French. The farms had the same desolate, untidy, untended look: the gates broken, the fences carelessly put up, or ill repaired; the farming-utensils sluttishly scattered about a littered yard, where the pigs seemed to preside by undisputed right; house-windows broken, and stuffed with paper or clothes; dishevelled women, and barefooted anomalous-looking human young things; none of the stirring life and activity which such places present in England and Scotland; above all, none of the enchanting mixture of neatness, order, and rustic elegance and comfort, which render so picturesque the surroundings of a farm, and the various belongings of agricultural labour in my own dear country.[30] The fences struck me as peculiar; I never saw any such in England. They are made of rails of wood placed horizontally, and meeting at obtuse angles, so forming a zig-zag wall of wood, which runs over the country like the herring-bone seams of a flannel petticoat. At each of the angles two slanting stakes, considerably higher than the rest of the fence, were driven into the ground, crossing each other at the top, so as to secure the horizontal rails in their position.[31]
There was every now and then a soft vivid strip of turf, along the road-side, that made me long for a horse. Indeed the whole road would have been a delightful ride, and was a most bitter drive. At the end of fourteen miles we turned into a swampy field, the whole fourteen coachfuls of us, and, by the help of Heaven, bag and baggage were packed into the coaches which stood on the rail-way ready to receive us. The carriages were not drawn by steam, like those on the Liverpool rail-way, but by horses, with the mere advantage in speed afforded by the iron ledges, which, to be sure, compared with our previous progress through the ruts, was considerable. Our coachful got into the first carriage of the train, escaping, by way of especial grace, the dust which one's predecessors occasion. This vehicle had but two seats, in the usual fashion; each of which held four of us. The whole inside was lined with blazing scarlet leather, and the windows shaded with stuff curtains of the same refreshing colour; which, with full complement of passengers, on a fine, sunny, American summer's day, must make as pretty a little miniature hell as may be, I should think. The baggage-waggon, which went before us, a little obstructed the view. The road was neither pretty nor picturesque; but still fringed on each side with the many-coloured woods, whose rich tints made variety even in sameness. This rail-road is an infinite blessing; 'tis not yet finished, but shortly will be so, and then the whole of that horrible fourteen miles will be performed in comfort and decency in less than half the time. In about an hour and a half we reached the end of our rail-road part of the journey, and found another steam-boat waiting for us, when we all embarked on the Delaware. Again, the enormous width of the river struck me with astonishment and admiration. Such huge bodies of water mark out the country through which they run, as the future abode of the most extensive commerce and greatest maritime power in the universe. The banks presented much the same features as those of the Raritan, though they were not quite so flat, and more diversified with scattered dwellings, villages, and towns. We passed Bristol and Burlington, stopping at each of them to take up passengers.[32] I sat working, having finished my book, not a little discomfited by the pertinacious staring of some of my fellow-travellers. One woman, in particular, after wandering round me in every direction, at last came and sat down opposite me, and literally gazed me out of countenance. One improvement they have adopted on board these boats is to forbid smoking, except in the fore part of the vessel. I wish they would suggest that, if the gentlemen would refrain from spitting about too, it would be highly agreeable to the female part of the community. The universal practice here of this disgusting trick makes me absolutely sick: every place is made a perfect piggery of—street, stairs, steam-boat, everywhere—and behind the scenes; on the stage at rehearsal I have been shocked and annoyed beyond expression by this horrible custom. To-day, on board the boat, it was a perfect shower of saliva all the time; and I longed to be released from my fellowship with these very obnoxious chewers of tobacco.[33] At about four o'clock we reached Philadelphia, having performed the journey between that and New York (a distance of a hundred miles) in less than ten hours, in spite of bogs, ruts, and all other impediments. The manager came to look after us and our goods; and we were presently stowed into a coach, which conveyed us to the Mansion House, the best-reputed inn in Philadelphia. On asking for our bed-rooms, they showed D—— and myself into a double-bedded room. On my remonstrating against this, the chambermaid replied, that they were not accustomed to allow lodgers so much room as a room apiece. However, upon my insisting, they gave me a little nest just big enough to turn about in, but where, at least, I can be by myself. Dressed, and dined at five; after dinner, wrote journal till tea-time, and then came to bed.
Rose at half-past eight. Went and took a bath. On my way thither, drove through two melancholy-looking squares, which reminded me a little of poor old Queen Square in Bristol. The ladies' baths were closed, but, as I was not particular, they gave me one in the part of the house usually allotted to the men's use. I was much surprised to find two baths in one room, but it seems to me that the people of this country have an aversion to solitude, whether eating, sleeping, or under any other circumstances.
* * * * *
* * * * *
I made acquaintance with a bewitching Newfoundland puppy, whom I greatly coveted. Came home, dressed, and breakfasted. After breakfast, righted my things, and wrote journal. Took a walk with my father through some of the principal streets. The town is perfect silence and solitude, compared with New York; there is a greater air of age about it too, which pleases me. The red houses are not so fiercely red, nor the white facings so glaringly white; in short, it has not so new and flaunting a look, which is a great recommendation to me. The city is regularly built, the streets intersecting each other at right angles. We passed one or two pretty buildings in pure white marble, and the Bank in Chestnut Street, which is a beautiful little copy of the Parthenon. The pure, cold, clear-looking marble suits well with the severe and unadorned style of architecture; and is in harmony, too, with the extreme brilliancy of the sky, and clearness of the atmosphere of this country.[34] We passed another larger building, also a bank, in the Corinthian style, which did not please me so much. The shops here are much better looking than those at New York: the windows are larger, and more advantageously constructed for the display of goods; and there did not appear to be the same anomalous mixture of vendibles, as in the New York shops. The streets were very full of men hurrying to the town-house, to give their votes. It is election time, and much excitement subsists with regard to the choice of the future President.[35] The democrats or radicals are for the re-election of General Jackson, but the aristocratic party, which here at all events is the strongest, are in favour of Henry Clay. Here is the usual quantity of shouting and breaking windows that we are accustomed to on these occasions. I saw a caricature of Jackson and Van Buren, his chief supporter, which was entitled "The King and his Minister." Van Buren held a crown in his hand, and the devil was approaching Jackson with a sceptre.—Came in at half-past four, dressed for dinner: they gave us an excellent one. The master of this house was, it seems, once a man of independent fortune, and a great bon vivant. He has retained from thence a fellow-feeling for his guests, and does by them as he would be done by. After dinner, worked till tea-time; after tea, wrote journal, and now I'll go to bed. We are attended here by a fat old lively negro, by name Henry, who canters about in our behalf with great alacrity, and seems wrapt in much wonderment at many of our proceedings. By the by, the black who protected our baggage from the steam-boat was ycleped Oliver Cromwell. I have begun Grahame's History of America, and like it "mainly," as the old plays say.
Rose at eight. After breakfast, trimmed a cap, and wrote to dear ——. The streets were in an uproar all night, people shouting and bonfires blazing; in short, electioneering fun, which seems to be pretty much the same all the world over. Clay has it hollow here, they say: I wonder what Colonel —— will say to that. At twelve o'clock, sallied forth with D—— to rehearsal. The theatre is very pretty; not large but well sized, and, I should think, favourably constructed for the voice.
* * * * *
* * * * *
* * * * *
Unless Aldabella is irresistibly lovely, as well as wicked, there is no accounting for the conduct of Fazio. My own idea of her, as well as Milman's description, is every thing that can be conceived of splendid in beauty, sparkling in wit, graceful in deportment, gorgeous in apparel, and deep and dangerous in crafty wiliness; in short, the old serpent in the shape of Mrs. ——. I wish Mrs. —— would act that part: I could act it well enough, but she would both act and look it, to the very life. After rehearsal, walked about the town in quest of some coques de perle for my Bianca dress: could not procure any. I like this town extremely: there is a look of comfort and cleanliness, and withal of age about it, which pleases me. It is quieter, too, than New York, and though not so gay, for that very reason is more to my fancy; the shops, too, have a far better appearance. New York always gave me the idea of an irregular collection of temporary buildings, erected for some casual purpose, full of life, animation, and variety, but not meant to endure for any length of time; a fair, in short. This place has a much more substantial, sober, and city-like appearance. Came home at half-past two. In the hall met Mr. ——, who is grown ten years younger since I saw him last: it always delights me to see one of my fellow-passengers, and I am much disappointed in not finding —— here. Dined at three; after dinner, read my father some of my journal; went on with letter to ——, and then went and dressed myself. Took coffee, and adjourned to the theatre. The house was very full, but not so full as the Park on the first night of his acting in New York, which accounts for the greater stillness of the audience. I watched my father narrowly through his part to-night with great attention and some consequent fatigue, and the conclusion I have come to is this: that though his workmanship may be, and is, far finer in the hand than that of any other artist I ever saw, yet its very minute accuracy and refinement renders it unfit for the frame in which it is exhibited. Whoever should paint a scene calculated for so large a space as a theatre, and destined to be viewed at the distance from which an audience beholds it, with the laborious finish and fine detail of a miniature, would commit a great error in judgment. Nor would he have the least right to complain, although the public should prefer the coarser yet far more effective work of a painter, who, neglecting all refinement and niceness of execution, should merely paint with such full colouring, and breadth and boldness of touch, as to produce in the wide space he is called upon to fill, and upon the remote senses he appeals to, the effect of that which he intends to represent. Indeed he is the better artist of the two, though probably not the most intellectual man. For it is the part of such a one to know exactly what will best convey to the mass of mind and feeling to which he addresses himself the emotions and passions which he wishes them to experience.[36] Now the great beauty of all my father's performances, but particularly of Hamlet, is a wonderful accuracy in the detail of the character which he represents; an accuracy which modulates the emphasis of every word, the nature of every gesture, the expression of every look; and which renders the whole a most laborious and minute study, toilsome in the conception and acquirement, and most toilsome in the execution. But the result, though the natural one, is not such as he expects, as the reward of so much labour. Few persons are able to follow such a performance with the necessary attention, and it is almost as great an exertion to see it understandingly, as to act it. The amazing study of it requires a study in those who are to appreciate it, and, as I take it, this is far from being what the majority of spectators are either capable or desirous of doing; the actor loses his pains, and they have but little pleasure. Those who perform, and those who behold a play, have but a certain proportion of power of exciting, and capability of being excited. If, therefore, the actor expends his power of exciting, and his audience's power of being excited, upon the detail of the piece, and continues through five whole acts to draw from both, the main and striking points, those of strongest appeal, those calculated most to rouse at once, and gratify the emotions of the spectator, have not the same intensity or vigour that they would have had, if the powers of both actor and audience had been reserved to give them their fullest effect. A picture requires light and shadow; and the very relief that throws some of the figures in a fine painting into apparent obscurity, in reality enhances the effect produced by those over which the artist has shed a stronger light. Every note in the most expressive song does not require a peculiar expression; and an air sung with individual emphasis on each note would be utterly unproductive of the desired effect. All things cannot have all their component parts equal, and "nothing pleaseth but rare accidents." This being so, I think that acting the best which skilfully husbands the actor's and spectator's powers, and puts forth the whole of the one, to call forth the whole of the other, occasionally only; leaving the intermediate parts sufficiently level, to allow him and them to recover the capability of again producing, and again receiving, such impressions. It is constant that our finest nerves deaden and dull from over-excitement, and require repose, before they regain their acute power of sensation. At the same time, I am far from advocating that most imperfect conception and embodying of a part which Kean allows himself: literally acting detached passages alone, and leaving all the others, and the entire character, indeed, utterly destitute of unity, or the semblance of any consistency whatever. But Kean and my father are immediately each other's antipodes, and, in adopting their different styles of acting, it is evident that each has been guided as much by his own physical and intellectual individuality, as by any fixed principle of art. The one, Kean, possesses particular physical qualifications; an eye like an orb of light, a voice, exquisitely touching and melodious in its tenderness, and in the harsh dissonance of vehement passion terribly true; to these he adds the intellectual ones of vigour, intensity, amazing power of concentrating effect; these give him an entire mastery over his audience in all striking, sudden, impassioned passages, in fulfilling which he has contented himself, leaving unheeded what he probably could not compass, the unity of conception, the refinement of detail, and evenness of execution.[37] My father possesses certain physical defects, a faintness of colouring in the face and eye, a weakness of voice; and the corresponding intellectual deficiencies, a want of intensity, vigour, and concentrating power: these circumstances have led him (probably unconsciously) to give his attention and study to the finer and more fleeting shades of character, the more graceful and delicate manifestations of feeling, the exquisite variety of all minor parts, the classic keeping of a highly-wrought whole; to all these, polished and refined tastes, an acute sense of the beauty of harmonious proportions, and a native grace, gentleness, and refinement of mind and manner, have been his prompters; but they cannot inspire those startling and tremendous bursts of passion, which belong to the highest walks of tragedy, and to which he never gave their fullest expression. I fancy my aunt Siddons united the excellences of both these styles. But to return to my father's Hamlet: every time I see it, something strikes me afresh in the detail. Nothing in my mind can exceed the exquisite beauty of his last "Go on—I follow thee," to the ghost. The full gush of deep and tender faith, in spite of the awful mystery, to whose unfolding he is committing his life, is beautiful beyond measure. It is distinct, and wholly different from the noble, rational, philosophic conviction, "And for my soul, what can it do to that?" It is full of the unutterable fondness of a believing heart, and brought to my mind, last night, those holy and lovely words of scripture, "Perfect love casteth out fear:" it enchanted me.[38] There is one thing in which I do not believe my father ever has been, or ever will be, excelled; his high and noble bearing, his gallant, graceful, courteous deportment; his perfect good-breeding on the stage; unmarked alike by any peculiarity of time, place, or self (except peculiar grace and beauty). He appears to me the beau ideal of the courtly, thorough-bred, chivalrous gentleman, from the days of the admirable Crichton down to those of George the Fourth. Coming home after the play, the marble buildings in the full moonlight reminded me of the Ghost in Hamlet: they looked like pale majestic spirits, cold, calm, and colourless.
Rose rather late. After breakfast, wrote journal; at twelve, went to rehearsal.
* * * * *
* * * * *
After rehearsal, came home, habited, and went to the riding-school to try some horses. Merci de moi! what quadrupeds! How they did wallop and shamble about; poor half-broken dumb brutes! they know no better; and as the natives here are quite satisfied with their shuffling, rollicking, mongrel pace, half trot, half canter, why it is not worth while to break horses in a christian-like fashion for them.[39] I found something that I think my father can ride with tolerable comfort, but must go again to-morrow and see after something for myself. Came home: the enchanting Mr. Head has allowed me a piano-forte; but in bringing it into the room, the stupid slave broke one of its legs off, whereat I was like to faint, for I thought Mr. Head would wish me hanged therefor. Nothing can exceed the civility of the people here, and the house is extremely well kept, quiet, and comfortable. Came home in high delight with this Quaker city, which is indeed very pretty and pleasant. Played on the piano: dressed for dinner. After dinner, practised till tea-time, finished journal, discussed metaphysics with D——, for which I am a fool; wrote to-day's journal, and now to bed. I have a dreadful cold and cough, and have done nothing but hack and snivel the whole day long: this is a bad preparation for to-morrow's work. Howsoever——
Rose at eight. After breakfast, sat writing journal and letter to ——. At half-past eleven, went to rehearsal. Afterwards walked down to the riding-school with my father. The horse I was to look at had not arrived; but my father saw the grey. We were there for some time; and during that whole some time a tall, thin, unhappy-looking gentleman, who had gotten up upon a great hulking rawboned horse, kept trotting round and round, with his legs dangling down, sans stirrups, at the rate of a mile and a quarter an hour; occasionally ejaculating in the mildest of tones, "keome—keome up;" whereat the lively brute, nothing persuaded, proceeded in the very same pace, at the very same rate; and this went on till I wondered at the man and the beast. Came home and put out things for the theatre. My cold and cough are dreadful. After dinner, practised: invented and executed a substitute for the coques de perle in my Bianca dress; and lay down to rest a little before my work. At six, went to the theatre: the house was very full; and D—— and my father say that I was extremely ungracious in my acknowledgment of their greeting. I cannot tell; I did not mean to be so; I made them three courtesies, and what could woman do more? Of course, I can neither feel nor look so glad to see them as I am to see my own dear London people: neither can I be as profound in my obeisance, as when my audience is civil enough to rise to me: "there is differences, look you."
* * * * *
* * * * *
* * * * *
My Fazio had a pair of false black whiskers on, which distilled a black stripe of trickling cement down his cheeks, and kept me in agony every time he had to embrace me. My voice was horrible to hear; alternately like Mrs. —— and ——, and every now and then it was all I could do to utter at all. This audience is the most unapplausive I ever acted to, not excepting my excitable friends north of the Tweed. They were very attentive, certainly, but how they did make me work! 'Tis amazing how much an audience loses by this species of hanging back, even where the silence proceeds from unwillingness to interrupt a good performance: though in reality it is the greatest compliment an actor can receive, yet he is deprived by that very stillness of half his power. Excitement is reciprocal between the performer and the audience: he creates it in them, and receives it back again from them; and in that last scene in Fazio, half the effect that I produce is derived from the applause which I receive, the very noise and tumult of which tends to heighten the nervous energy which the scene itself begets. I know that my aunt Siddons has frequently said the same thing. And besides the above reason for applause, the physical powers of an actor require, after any tremendous exertion, the rest and regathering of breath and strength, which the interruption of the audience affords him; moreover, as 'tis the conventional mode of expressing approbation in a theatre, it is chilling and uncomfortable to go toiling on, without knowing whether, as the maidservants say, "one gives satisfaction or no." They made noise enough, however, at the end of the play. Came home, supped, and to bed; weary to death, and with a voice like a cracked bagpipe.
Rose at half-past eight. After breakfast, wrote journal; practised for an hour; got things ready for to-morrow; put on my habit, which I had no sooner done than the perverse clouds began to rain. The horses came at two, but the weather was so bad that I sent them away again. Practised for another hour, read a canto in Dante, and dressed for dinner. After dinner, worked and practised. Came to my own room, and tried to scribble something for the Mirror, at my father's request; the editors having made an especial entreaty to him that I might write something for them, and also sit to some artist for them. I could not accomplish any thing, and they must just take something that I have by me: as for my physiognomy, that they shall certainly not have with my own good leave. I will never expend so much useless time again as to sit for my picture; nor will I let any unhappy painter again get abused for painting me as I am, which is any thing but what I look like. Lawrence alone could do it: there is no other that could see my spirit through my face; and as for the face without that, the less that is seen of it the better. Came down to tea, and found a young gentleman sitting with my father; one Mr. ——.
* * * * *
* * * * *
* * * * *
He was a pretty-spoken genteel youth enough: he drank tea with us, and offered to ride with me. He is, it seems, a great fortune; consequently, I suppose (in spite of his inches), a great man. Now I'll go to bed: my cough's enough to kill a horse.
Rose late; so late that, by the time I had breakfasted, it was no longer time to go to church.
* * * * *
* * * * *
* * * * *
Finished my first letter to ——. Mr. —— called, and told us that he was going about agitating, and that Jackson was certainly to be re-elected.
* * * * *
* * * * *
* * * * *
At three o'clock D—— and I sallied forth to go to church. Following the silver voices of the Sabbath bells, as they called the worshippers to the house of prayer, we entered a church with a fine simple façade, and found ourselves in the midst of a Presbyterian congregation. 'Tis now upwards of eight years since, a school girl, I used to attend a dissenters' chapel. The form of worship, though displeasing to me in itself, borrowed a charm to-day from old association. How much of the past it did recall!
* * * * *
* * * * *
* * * * *
Came home and dressed for dinner. After dinner, half-killed myself with laughter over an Irish version of Fazio, ycleped Grimaldi, from which the author swears Milman has shamefully filched the plot, characters, and even the language, I believe, of his drama. A gentleman of the press, by name ——, paid us an evening visit. He seems an intelligent young man enough; and when he spoke of the autumnal woods, by the Oneida lake, his expressions were poetical and enthusiastic; and he pleased me.[40] He seems to think much of having had the honour of corresponding with sundry of the small literati of London. Je lui en fais mon compliment. When he was gone, wrote another letter to ——; journal, and now to bed.
Rose at eight; took a hot bath. The more I read of Grahame, the better I like him and his history. Those early settlers in Massachusetts were fine fellows, indeed; and Cotton, one of the finest samples of a Christian priest imaginable. After breakfast, went to rehearsal. The day was cold, but beautifully bright and clear. The pure, fresh, invigorating air, and gay sunlight, together with the delightfully clean streets, and pretty mixture of trees and buildings in this nice town, caused me to rejoice, as I walked along.[41] After rehearsal, saw Sinclair and his wife. So—we are to act the Gamester here. Went and ordered a dress for that same, my own being at New York. Came home, put out things for the theatre, practised an hour; dined at three. After dinner, read a canto in Dante: he is my admiration!—great, great master!—a philosopher profound, as all poets should be; a glorious poet, as I wish all philosophers were. Sketched till dark. Chose a beautiful claret-coloured velvet for Mrs. Beverley, which will cost Miss Kemble eleven guineas, by this living light. At six, went to the theatre. I never beheld any thing more gorgeous than the sky at sunset. Autumn is an emperor here, clothed in crimson and gold, and canopied with ruddy glowing skies. Yet I like the sad russet cloak of our own autumnal woods; I like the sighing voice of his lament through the vaporous curtain that rises round his steps; I like the music of the withered leaves that rustle in his path; and oh, above all, the solemn thoughts that wait upon him, as he goes stripping the trees of their bright foliage, leaving them like the ungarlanded columns of a deserted palace. The play was Romeo and Juliet. My father was the "youngest of that name," for want of a better, or, rather, of a worse. How beautiful this performance must have been, when the youthful form made that appear natural which now seems the triumph of art over nature. Garrick said, that to act Romeo required a grey head upon green shoulders. Indeed, 'tis difficult! Oh, that our sapient judges did but know half how difficult. It is delightful to act with my father. One's imagination need toil but little, to see in him the very thing he represents; whereas, with all other Romeos, although they were much younger men, I have had to do double work with that useful engine, my fancy: first, to get rid of the material obstacle staring me in the face, and then to substitute some more congenial representative of that sweetest vision of youth and love. Once, only, this was not necessary.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The audience here are, without exception, the most disagreeable I ever played to. Not a single hand did they give the balcony scene, or my father's scene with the friar: they are literally immovable. They applauded vehemently at the end of my draught scene, and a great deal at the end of the play; but they are, nevertheless, intolerably dull; and it is all but impossible to act to them.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The man who acted Capulet did it better than any Capulet I ever acted with; and the nurse, besides looking admirably, acted her part very well: and 'tis hard to please me, after poor dear old Mrs. Davenport. The house was literally crammed from floor to ceiling. Came home tired and hoarse; though my voice was a good deal better to-day. Mr. —— supped with us. My father expected a visit from the haggling Boston manager, and chose to have a witness to the conference.
Rose at nine. After breakfast, read a canto in Dante; wrote journal; practised for an hour. The Boston manager, it seems, does not approve of our terms; and after bargaining till past two o'clock last night with my father, the latter, wearied out with his illiberal trafficking, and coarse vulgarity of manner, declined the thing altogether: so, unless the gentleman thinks better of the matter, we shall not go to Boston this winter.[42] At one o'clock, habited; and at two, rode out with my father. The day was most enchanting, mild, bright, and sunny; but the roads were deplorable, and the country utterly dull. My horse was a hard-mouthed half broken beast, without pace of any christian kind soever; a perfect rack on hoofs: how it did jog and jumble me! However, my bones are young, and my courage good, and I don't mind a little hard work; but the road was so villanously bad, and the surrounding country so weary, dull, stale, and unprofitable, that I was heartily sick of my ride, when we turned towards Fairmount, the site of some large water-works on the Schuylkill, by which Philadelphia is supplied with water. On our right I descried, over some heights, a castellated building of some extent, whose formidable appearance at least bespoke an arsenal; but it was the entrance to the Penitentiary instead: and presently the river, bright, and broad, and placid as a lake, with its beautiful banks, and rainbow-tinted woods, opened upon us. We crossed a covered wooden bridge, and followed the water's edge. The rich colours of the foliage cast a warm light over the transparent face of the mirror-like stream; and, far along the winding shores, a mingled mantle of gorgeous glowing tints lay over the woody banks, and was reflected in the still sunny river. Indeed, it was lovely! But our time was growing short, and we had to turn home; which we did by a pleasant and more direct path. My horse, towards the end of the ride, got more manageable; and I doubt whether it would not be wiser to continue to ride it than try another, which may be just as bad, and, moreover, a stranger. My riding-cap seemed to excite universal marvel wherever we passed. We came in at five o'clock; dressed, and dined. Just as I had finished dinner, a most beautiful, fragrant, and delicious nosegay was brought to me, with a very laconic note from a Philadelphia "friend," dashed under, as though from a Quaker. Whoever 'tis from, Jew or Gentile, Puritan or Pagan, he, she, or it hath my most unbounded gratitude. Spent an ecstatic half hour in arranging my flowers in glasses; gave orders about my Mrs. Beverley's gown, and began marking journal; while doing so, a card was brought up.
* * * * *
* * * * *
* * * * *
Presently Mr. —— came in, another of our Pacific fellow-sailors. It pleases me to see them: they seem to bring me nearer to England. He gave a dreadful account of his arrival in Baltimore, and of the state to which the cholera had reduced that city. Mr. —— amused me, by telling me that he had heard my behaviour canvassed with much censure by some man or other, who met me at Mr. ——'s, and who was horrified at my taking up a book, and then a newspaper, and, in short, being neither tragical nor comical, at a dinner-party. Of course, I must seem a very strange animal to them all; but they seem just as strange to me.
* * * * *
* * * * *
Rose at eight. After breakfast, put out things for the theatre. At eleven, went to rehearsal. It seems there has been fighting, and rushing, and tearing of coats at the box-office; and one man has made forty dollars by purchasing and reselling tickets at an increased price. After rehearsal, came home. Mr. —— called, and sat some time: he sails for England on the twenty-fourth. England, oh England!—yet, after all, what is there in that name? It is not my home; it is not those beloved ones' whose fellowship is half the time what we call home. Is it really and truly the yearning of the roots for the soil in which they grew? Perhaps it is only the restless roving spirit, that still would be where it is not. I know not. His description of American life and manners (and he knows both, for he has lived constantly in this country, and his particularities are, I believe, fairly divided between it and his own,) is any thing but agreeable.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The dignified and graceful influence which married women, among us, exercise over the tone of manners, uniting the duties of home to the charms of social life, and bearing, at once, like the orange-tree, the fair fruits of maturity with the blossoms of their spring, is utterly unknown here. Married women are either house-drudges and nursery-maids, or, if they appear in society, comparative ciphers; and the retiring, modest, youthful bearing, which among us distinguishes girls of fifteen or sixteen, is equally unknown. Society is entirely led by chits, who in England would be sitting behind a pinafore; the consequence is, that it has neither the elegance, refinement, nor the propriety which belongs to ours; but is a noisy, rackety, vulgar congregation of flirting boys and girls, alike without style or decorum.[43] When Mr. —— was gone, practised till dinner-time. After dinner, practised for half an hour; marked journal, till time to go to the theatre; took coffee, and away. The house was crammed again, and the play better acted than I have ever seen it out of London, though Mrs. Candour had stuck upon her head a bunch of feathers which threatened the gods; and Lady Sneerwell had dragged all her hair off her face, which needed to be as pretty as it was, to endure such an exposure. I do not wonder the New Yorkians did not approve of my Lady Teazle. If, as —— tells me, Mrs. —— is their idea of the perfection of good-breeding, well may my delineation of a lady be condemned as "nothing particular." Yet I am sorry I must continue to lie under their censure, for I, unfortunately for myself, have seen ladies, "ripe and real," who, from all I can see, hear, and understand, differ widely from the good manners of their "beau ideal." The fact is, I am not "genteel" enough, and I am conscious of it. The play went off remarkably well. Came to bed at half-past eleven.
* * * * *
Here is the end of October, the very mourning-time of the year with us, and my room is full of flowers, and the sun is so bright and powerful, that it is impossible to go out with a shawl, or without a parasol. Went to rehearsal at twelve; at two, came in and habited; and at half-past two, rode out with my father. We took the road to the Schuylkill at once, through Arch Street, which is a fine, broad, long street, running parallel with Chestnut Street. We walked along the road under the intense sunlight that made all things look sleepy around. Turning between some rising banks, through a defile where the road wound up a hill, we caught a glimpse of a white house standing on the sunny slope of a green rise. The undulating grounds around were all bathed in warm light, relieved only by the massy shadows of the thick woods that sheltered them. It was a bit of England.
* * * * *
Some good farming and tidy out-houses, and dependencies, completed the resemblance, and made me think that this must be the dwelling of some of my own country people. How can they live here? Here, even in the midst of what is fair and peaceful in nature, I think my home would haunt me, and the far-off chiming of the waves against her white shores resound in my ears through the smooth flowing of the Schuylkill.[44] After pursuing a level uninteresting road for some time, we turned off to the right, and, standing on the brow of a considerable declivity, had a most enchanting glimpse of the Schuylkill and its woody shores. The river makes a bend just above the water-works, and the curving banks scooping themselves form a lovely little sunny bay. It was more like a lake, just here, than a flowing stream. The sky was so blessedly serene, and the air so still, that the pure deep-looking water appeared to sleep, while the bright hues of the heavens, and the glowing lints of the woody shores, were mirrored with wondrous vividness on its bosom. I never saw such gorgeousness, and withal such perfect harmony of colouring. The golden sky, the mingled green, brown, yellow, crimson, and dark maroon, that clothed the thickets; the masses of grey granite, with the vivid mossy green that clung round them; the sunny purple waters; the warm red colour of the road itself, as it wound down below, with a border of fresh-looking turf on either side of it; the radiant atmosphere of rosy light that hung over all; all combined to present a picture of perfect enchantment. The eye was drunk with beauty.[45] How I though t of Mr. ——. Indeed a painter would have gone crazy over it, and I, who am not a painter, was half crazy that I was not. Though if I had been, what would it have availed? Such colours are from God's pallet, and mortal hand may no more copy, than it could mingle them. We rode on through scenery of the same description, passing in our way a farm and dairy, where the cattle were standing, not in open pastureland, but in a corner of forest-ground, all bright with the golden shedding of the trees; it was very picturesque. A little runlet of water, too, that held the middle of a tangled ravine, ran glittering like a golden snake through the underwood, while the stems of the trees, and the light foliage on the edge of the thick woody screens, were bathed in yellow sunshine. All around was beautiful, and rich, and harmonious to the eye, and should have been so to the spirit.
* * * * *
Returned home at about half-past five, dined at six; found another beautiful nosegay waiting for me, from my unknown furnisher of sweets. This is almost as tantalising as it is civil; and I would give half my lovely flowers to find out who sends them to me. Distributed them all over the room, and was as happy as a queen. Mr. —— called. My father was obliged to go out upon business, so D—— and I had to entertain that worthy youth. He seems to have a wonderful veneration for a parcel of scribblers, whose names were never heard of in England, beyond the limits of their own narrow coteries. But he speaks like an enthusiast of the woods and waters of his glorious country, and I excuse his taste in poetry. Now isn't this strange, that a man who can feel the amazing might, majesty, and loveliness of nature, can endure for a moment the mawkish scribbling of these poetasters? Verily, we be anomalous beasts.
* * * * *