Hamlet, to him, was a noble young man who was
grieved at his mother's ill-behaviour. The details he acted like a
virtuoso. For instance, it was very effective during the mimic play,
when, lying at Ophelia's feet, he crushes her fan in his hands at the
moment when the King turns pale. I derived my chief enjoyment, not from
the acting, but from the play. It suddenly revealed itself to me from
other aspects, and I fell prostrate in such an exceeding admiration for
Shakespeare that I felt I should never rise again. It was touching to
hear the Italians' remarks on _Hamlet_. The piece was new to them.
You frequently heard the observation: "It is a very philosophical
piece." As people changed from place to place, and sat wherever they
liked, I overheard many different people's opinions of the drama. The
suicide monologue affected these fresh and alert minds very powerfully.
That evening, moreover, I had occasion to observe human cowardice, which
is never accounted so great as it really is. There was a noise behind
the scene during the performance, and immediately afterwards a shout of
_Fuoco!_ The audience were overmastered by terror. More than half
of them rushed to the doors, pulled each other down, and trampled on the
fallen, in their endeavours to get out quickly enough; others rushed up
on the stage itself.
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