Atlantic States -- Description and travel; Kemble, Fanny, 1809-1893; United States -- Social life and customs -- 1783-1865
The sun set gloriously. Mr. ---- began talking about Greece, and,
getting a good deal excited, presently burst forth into "The isles of
Greece! the isles of Greece!" which he recited with amazing vehemence
and earnestness. He reminded me of Kean several times: while he was
declaiming, he looked like a tiger. 'Tis strange, or, rather, 'tis not
strange, 'tis but natural, how, in spite of the contempt and even hatred
which he often expresses for England, and every thing connected with it,
his thoughts and plans, and all the energies of his mind, seem for ever
bent upon changes to be wrought in England--freer government, purer
laws, more equal rights. He began to talk about Cromwell: he wanted, he
said, to have a play written out of Cromwell's life. We talked the
matter over with infinite zeal, and established most satisfactorily,
that to accomplish such a thing, as it ought to be done, would be quite
one of the most difficult tasks in the world. Nobody but a religious and
political enthusiast could do it: a poet, unless himself a republican
Englishman, and fanatical sectarian, hardly could: it must be unlike all
other works of art--not an imitation of truth, but truth itself.
Schiller is the only man I can imagine who could have attempted it with
any chance of success: and I even doubt whether he would have made of it
the firebrand our friend wants.[105] Towards evening the heat became
more and more oppressive. Our coach was but ill cobbled, and leaned
awfully to one side. I fell asleep lying in my father's lap; and when we
reached Auburn, which was not until nine o'clock, I was so tired, so
miserably sleepy, and so tortured with the side-ach, from the cramped
position in which I had been lying, that I just crawled into the first
room in the inn where we alighted, and dropped down on the floor fast
asleep. They roused me for supper; and very soon after I betook myself
to bed. The heat was intolerable; the pale feet of the summer lightning
ran along the black edges of the leaden clouds,--the world was alight
with it. I could not sleep: I never endured such suffocating heat.
_Sunday, 14th._
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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