When they were gone, went to the theatre; the house was very good, the play the School for Scandal. I played pretty fairly, and looked very nice. The people were stupid to a degree, to be sure; poor things! it was very hot. Indeed, I scarce understand how they should be amused with the School for Scandal; for though the dramatic situations are so exquisite, yet the wit is far above the generality of even our own audiences, and the tone and manners altogether are so thoroughly English, that I should think it must be for the most part incomprehensible to the good people here. After the play, came home. Colonel S---- supped with us, and renewed the subject of Mr. Keppel and the theatre. My father happened to say, referring to a passage in that worthy's letter to the public, "I shall certainly inquire of Mr. Keppel why he has so used my name;" to which Colonel S---- replied, as usual, "No, now let me advise, let me beg you, Mr. Kemble, just to remain quiet, and leave all this to me." This was too much for mortal woman to bear. I immediately said, "Not at all: it is my father's affair, if any body's; and he alone has the right to demand any explanation, or make any observation on the subject; and were I he, I certainly should do so, and that forthwith." I could hold no longer. * * * * * * * * * * Came to bed in tremendous dudgeon. The few _critiques_ that I have seen upon our acting have been, upon the whole, laudatory. One was sent to me from a paper called The Mirror, which pleased me very much; not because the praise in it was excessive, and far beyond my deserts, but that it was written with great taste and feeling, and was evidently not the produce of a common press-hack. There appeared to me in all the others the true provincial dread of praising too much, and being _led_ into approbation by previous opinions; a sort of jealousy of critical freedom, which, together with the established _nil admirari_ of the press, seems to keep them in a constant dread of being thought enthusiastic. They need not be afraid: enthusiasm may belong to such analyses as Schlegel's or Channing's, but has nothing in common with the paragraphs of a newspaper; the inditers of which, in my poor judgment, seldom go beyond the very threshold of criticism, _i. e._ the discovery of faults. I am infinitely amused at the extreme curiosity which appears to me to be the besetting sin of the people here. A gentleman whom you know (as for instance, in my case,) very slightly, will sit down by your table during a morning visit, turn over every article upon it, look at the cards of the various people who have called upon you, ask half-a-dozen questions about each of them, as many about your own private concerns; and all this, as though it were a matter of course that you should answer him, which I feel greatly inclined occasionally not to do. _Saturday, 22d._