I could not suit myself in this respect; however bad a situation
might seem, I still fancied some other as promising to be worse. And I was
not sorry when an audience, by mustering in strength through all parts of
the house, began to divide my responsibility as to burning down the
building, and, at the same time, to limit the caprices of my distracted
choice. At last, and precisely at half-past seven, the curtain drew up; a
thing not strictly correct on a Grecian stage. But in theatres, as in
other places, one must forget and forgive. Then the music began, of which
in a moment. The overture slipped out at one ear, as it entered the other,
which, with submission to Mr. Mendelssohn, is a proof that it must be
horribly bad; for, if ever there lived a man that in music can neither
forget nor forgive, that man is myself. Whatever is very good never
perishes from my remembrance,--that is, sounds in my ears by intervals for
ever,--and for whatever is bad, I consign the author, in my wrath, to his
own conscience, and to the tortures of his own discords. The most
villanous things, however, have one merit; they are transitory as the best
things; and _that_ was true of the overture: it perished. Then, suddenly,
--oh, heavens! what a revelation of beauty!--forth stepped, walking in
brightness, the most faultless of Grecian marbles, Miss Helen Faucit as
Antigone. What perfection of Athenian sculpture! the noble figure, the
lovely arms, the fluent drapery! What an unveiling of the ideal
statuesque! Is it Hebe? is it Aurora? is it a goddess that moves before
us? Perfect she is in form; perfect in attitude;
'Beautiful exceedingly,
Like a ladie from a far countrie.
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