of creeping and jumping things, and
vehemently slapping our own faces with intent to kill the flying
ones that incessantly buzz about one. It is rather a deplorable
existence, and reminds me of one of the most unpleasant circles in
Dante's "Hell," which I don't think could have been much worse. My
father began his work on Monday last with Hamlet. Dall and I went
into a private box to see him; he acted admirably, and looked
wonderfully young and handsome. The house was crammed, and the
audience, we were assured, was enthusiastic beyond all precedent.

On Tuesday I came out in Bianca; I was rather glad they had
appointed that part for my first, because it is one of my best; but
had not the genius of theatrical management made such a mere
monologue of the play as it has, I verily believe I should have
been "swamped" by my helpmate. My Fazio was an unhappy man who
played Romeo once with me in London, and failed utterly: moreover,
he had studied this part in a hurry, it seems, and did not know
three words of it, and was, besides, too frightened to profit by my
prompting. The only thing that seemed to occur to him was to go
down on his knees, which he did every five minutes. Once when I was
on mine, he dropped down suddenly exactly opposite to me, and there
we were, looking for all the world like one of those pious conjugal
_vis-a-vis_ that adorn antique tombs in our cathedrals. It really
was exceedingly absurd. But I looked and acted well, and the play
was very successful.... I was not nervous for my first night, till
my unhappy partner made me so. My dislike to the stage would really
render me indifferent to my own success, but that I am working for
my livelihood; my bread depends upon success, and that is a
realistic, if not an artistic, view of the case, of which I
acknowledge the importance....

Absolute and uncompromising vulgarity is really not very
objectionable; it is rather refreshing, indeed, for it is simple,
and, in that respect, rare. Vulgarity allied to pretension and the
affectation of fine manners is the only real vulgarity, and is an
intolerable thing. The plain rusticity, or even coarseness, of what
are called the lower classes, is infinitely preferable to the
assumption of _gentility_ of those a little above them in the
social