Records Of A Girlhood Volume 1 (1 Of 2) by Frances Ann Kemble (best e reader for android .txt) 📕

All Felt For This Beloved And Valued Friend Tended To Produce Justice

And Moderation In All Our Conflicts Of Opinion."[A]

[A] Sketch Of Lord Dacre's Character By Madame Huber.

Lady Dacre Had Had By Her First Marriage, To Mr. Wilmot, An Only Child,

The Mrs. Sullivan I Have Mentioned In This Letter, Wife Of The Reverend

Frederick Sullivan, Vicar Of Kimpton. She Was An Excellent And Most

Agreeable Person, Who Inherited Her Mother's Literary And Artistic

Genius In A Remarkable Degree, Though Her Different Position And Less

Leisurely Circumstances As Wife Of A Country Clergyman And Mother Of A

Large Family, Devoted To The Important Duties Of Both Callings, Probably

Prevented The Full Development And Manifestation Of Her Fine

Intellectual Gifts. She Was A Singularly Modest And Diffident Person,

And This As Well As Her More Serious Avocations May Have Stood In The

Way Of Her Doing Justice To Her Uncommon Abilities, Of Which, However,

There Is Abundant Evidence In Her Drawings And Groups Of Modeled

Figures, And In The Five Volumes Of Charming Stories Called "Tales Of A

Chaperon," And "Tales Of The Peerage And The Peasantry," Which Were Not

Published With Her Name But Simply As Edited By Lady Dacre, To Whom

Their Authorship Was, I Think, Generally Attributed. The Mental Gifts Of

Lady Dacre Appear To Be Heirlooms, For They Have Been Inherited For

Three Generations, And In Each Case By Her Female Descendants.

The Gentleman Who Accompanied Her To Her House, On The Evening I

Referred To In My Letter, Was The Honorable James Stuart Wortley,

Youngest Son Of The Earl Of Wharncliffe, Who Was Prevented By Failure Of

Health Alone From Reaching The Very Highest Honors Of The Legal

Profession, In Which He Had Already Attained The Rank Of

Solicitor-General, When His Career Was Prematurely Closed By Disastrous

Illness. At The Time Of My First Acquaintance With Him He Was A Very

Clever And Attractive Young Man, And Though Intended For A Future Lord

Chancellor He Condescended To Sing Sentimental Songs Very Charmingly.

Of My Excellent And Amiable Friend, The Reverend William Harness, A

Biography Has Been Published Which Tells All There Is To Be Told Of His

Uneventful Life And Career. Endowed With A Handsome Face And Sweet

Countenance And Very Fine Voice, He Was At One Time A Fashionable London

Preacher, A Vocation Not Incompatible, When He Exercised It, With A

Great Admiration For The Drama. He Was An Enthusiastic Frequenter Of The

Theater, Published A Valuable Edition Of Shakespeare, And Wrote Two

Plays In Blank Verse Which Had Considerable Merit; But His Pre-Eminent

Gift Was Goodness, In Which I Have Known Few People Who Surpassed Him.

Objecting From Conscientious Motives To Hold More Than One Living, He

Received From His Friend, Lord Lansdowne, An Appointment In The Home

Office, The Duties Of Which Did Not Interfere With Those Of His Clerical

Profession. He Was Of A Delightfully Sunny, Cheerful Temper, And Very

Fond Of Society, Mixing In The Best That London Afforded, And Frequently

Receiving With Cordial Hospitality Some Of Its Most Distinguished

Members In His Small, Modest Residence. He Was A Devoted Friend Of My

Family, Had An Ardent Admiration For My Aunt Siddons, And Honored Me

With A Kind And Constant Regard.

Miss Joanna Baillie Was A Great Friend Of Mrs. Siddons's, And Wrote

Expressly For Her The Part Of Jane De Montfort, In Her Play Of "De

Montfort." My Father And Mother Had The Honor Of Her Acquaintance, And I

Went More Than Once To Pay My Respects To Her At The Cottage In

Hampstead Where She Passed The Last Years Of Her Life.

The Peculiar Plan Upon Which She Wrote Her Fine Plays, Making Each Of

Them Illustrate A Single Passion, Was In Great Measure The Cause Of

Their Unfitness For The Stage. "De Montfort," Which Has Always Been

Considered The Most Dramatic Of Them, Had Only A Very Partial Success,

In Spite Of Its Very Great Poetical Merit And Considerable Power Of

Passion, And The Favorable Circumstance That The Two Principal

Characters In It Were Represented By The Eminent Actors For Whom The

Authoress Originally Designed Them. In Fact, Though Joanna Baillie

Selected And Preferred The Dramatic Form For Her Poetical Compositions,

They Are Wanting In The Real Dramatic Element, Resemblance To Life And

Human Nature, And Are Infinitely Finer As Poems Than Plays.

But The Desire And Ambition Of Her Life Had Been To Write For The Stage,

And The Reputation She Achieved As A Poet Did Not Reconcile Her To Her

Failure As A Dramatist. I Remember Old Mr. Sotheby, The Poet (I Add This

Title To His Name, Though His Title To It Was By Some Esteemed But

Slender), Telling Me Of A Visit He Had Once Paid Her, When, Calling Him

Into Her Little Kitchen (She Was Not Rich, Kept Few Servants, And Did

Not Disdain Sometimes To Make Her Own Pies And Puddings), She Bade Him,

As She Was Up To The Elbows In Flour And Paste, Draw From Her Pocket A

Paper; It Was A Play-Bill, Sent To Her By Some Friend In The Country,

Setting Forth That Some Obscure Provincial Company Was About To Perform

Miss Joanna Baillie's Celebrated Tragedy Of "De Montfort." "There,"

Exclaimed The Culinary Melpomene, "There, Sotheby, I Am So Happy! You

See My Plays Can Be Acted Somewhere!" Well, Too, Do I Remember The Tone

Of Half-Regretful Congratulation In Which She Said To Me, "Oh, You Lucky

Girl--You Lucky Girl; You Are Going To Have Your Play Acted!" This Was

"Francis I.," The Production Of Which On The Stage Was A Bitter

Annoyance To Me, To Prevent Which I Would Have Given Anything I

Possessed, But Which Made Me (Vexed And Unhappy Though I Was At The

Circumstance On Which I Was Being Congratulated) An Object Of Positive

Envy To The Distinguished Authoress And Kind Old Lady.

In Order To Steer Clear Of The Passion Of Revenge, Which Is In Fact

Hatred Proceeding From A Sense Of Injury, Miss Joanna Baillie In Her

Fine Tragedy Of "De Montfort" Has Inevitably Made The Subject Of It An

_Antipathy_--That Is, An Instinctive, Unreasoning, Partly Physical

Antagonism, Producing Abhorrence And Detestation The Most Intense,

Without Any Adequate Motive; And The Secret Of The Failure Of Her Noble

Play On The Stage Is Precisely That This Is Not (Fortunately) A Natural

Passion Common To The Majority Of Human Beings (Which Hatred That _Has_

A Motive Undoubtedly Is, In A Greater Or Less Degree), But An Abnormal

Element In Exceptionally Morbid Natures, And Therefore A Sentiment (Or

Sensation) With Which No Great Number Of People Or Large Proportion Of A

Public Audience Can Sympathize Or Even Understand. Intense And Causeless

Hatred Is One Of The Commonest Indications Of Insanity, And, Alas! One

That Too Often Exhibits Itself Toward Those Who Have Been Objects Of The

Tenderest Love; But De Montfort Is Not Insane, And His Loathing Is

Unaccountable To Healthy Minds Upon Any Other Plea, And Can Find No

Comprehension In Audiences Quite Prepared To Understand, If Not To

Sympathize With, The Vindictive Malignity Of Shylock And The Savage

Ferocity Of Zanga. Goethe, In His Grand Play Of "Tasso," Gives The Poet

This Morbid Detestation Of The Accomplished Courtier And Man Of The

World, Antonio; But Then, Tasso Is Represented As On The Very Verge Of

That Madness Into The Dark Abyss Of Which He Subsequently Sinks.

Shakespeare's Treatment Of The Passion Of Hatred, In "The Merchant Of

Venice," Is Worthy Of All Admiration For The Profound Insight With Which

He Has Discriminated Between That Form Of It Which All Men Comprehend,

And Can Sympathize With, And That Which, Being Really Nothing But

Diseased Idiosyncrasy, Appears To The Majority Of Healthy Minds A Mere

Form Of Madness.

In His First Introduction To Us The Jew Accounts For His Detestation Of

Antonio Upon Three Very Comprehensible Grounds: National Race Hatred, In

Feeling And Exciting Which The Jews Have Been Quite A "Peculiar People"

From The Earliest Records Of History; Personal Injury In The Defeat Of

His Usurious Prospects Of Gain; And Personal Insult In The Unmanly

Treatment To Which Antonio Had Subjected Him. However Excessive In

Degree, His Hatred Is Undoubtedly Shown To Have A Perfectly

Comprehensible, If Not Adequate Cause And Nature, And Is A _Reasonable_

Hatred, Except From Such A Moral Point Of View As Allows Of None.

An Audience Can Therefore Tolerate Him With Mitigated Disgust Through

The Opening Portions Of The Play. When, However, In The Grand Climax Of

The Trial Scene Shakespeare Intends That He Shall Be No Longer Tolerated

Or Tolerable, But Condemned Alike By His Venetian Judges And His English

Audience, He Carefully Avoids Putting Into His Mouth Any One Of The

Reasons With Which In The Opening Of The Play He Explains And Justifies

His Hatred. He Does Not Make Him Quote The Centuries-Old Hebrew Scorn Of

And Aversion To The Gentiles, Nor The Merchant's Interference With His

Commercial Speculations, Nor The Man's Unprovoked Spitting At, Spurning,

And Abuse Of Him; But He Will And _Can_ Give _No_ Reason For His

Abhorrence Of Antonio, Whom He Says He _Loathes_ With The Inexplicable

Revulsion Of Nature That Certain Men Feel Toward Certain Animals; And

The Mastery Of The Poet Shows Itself In Thus Making Shylock's Cruelty

Monstrous, And Accounting For It As An Abnormal Monstrosity.

Hatred That Has A Reasonable Cause May Cease With Its Removal. Supposing

Antonio To Have Become A Converted Jew, Or To Have Withdrawn All

Opposition To Shylock's Usury And Compensated Him Largely For The Losses

He Had Caused Him By It, And To Have Expressed Publicly, With The Utmost

Humility, Contrition For His Former Insults And Sincere Promises Of

Future Honor, Respect, And Reverence, It Is Possible To Imagine Shylock

Relenting In A Hatred Of Which The Reasons He Assigned For It No Longer

Existed. But From The Moment He Says He Has _No_ Reason For His Hatred

Other Than The Insuperable Disgust And Innate Enmity Of An Antagonistic

Nature--The Deadly, Sickening, Physical Loathing That In Rare Instances

Affects Certain Human Beings Toward Others Of Their Species, And Toward

Certain Animals--Then There Are No Calculable Bounds To The Ferocity Of

Such A Blind Instinct, No Possibility Of Mitigating, By Considerations

Of Reflection Or Feeling, An Inherent, Integral Element Of A Morbid

Organization. And Shakespeare, In Giving This Aspect To The Last

Exhibition Of Shylock's Vindictiveness, Cancels The Original Appeal To

Possible Sympathy For His Previous Wrongs, And Presents Him As A

Dangerous Maniac Or Wild Beast, From Whose Fury No One