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I have not been to the Fenice, but I once attended a performance of Amleto by "G. Shakespeare" in the Goldoni.
About the staging of the play there was a right Shakespearian parsimony. If all the scenery and costumes cost twenty-five pounds, I am surprised. No attempt was made to invest "lo spettro del padre del Amleto" with supernatural graces. So far as the Goldoni is concerned, Sir Henry Irving, Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree, Sir Augustus Harris, and Herr Reinhardt have toiled in vain.
Among her statues are "Amleto," "The Sulamite Woman," and "Sappho." The last was enthusiastically received in Paris in 1878, and is the work which gained the prize at Florence, where it was said to be the gem of the exhibition.
Poor maestra, she is yellow and bitter-skinned, near fifty, but her dark eyes are still corrosively inflammable. She was engaged to a lieutenant in the cavalry, who got drowned when she was twenty-one. Since then she has hung on the tree unripe, growing yellow and bitter-skinned, never developing. 'Amleto! I say. 'Non lo conosco. A certain fear comes into her eyes.
The Ridotto The Fenice Theatre The Goldoni Theatre Amleto A star part S. Zobenigo S. Stefano Cloisters Francesco Morosini A great soldier Nicolò Tommaseo The Campo Morosini Red hair. Leaving the Piazza at the corner diagonally opposite the Merceria clock, we come at once into the busy Salizzada S. Moïse, where the shops for the more expensive tourists are to be found.
'Ecco, Amleto! cries the maestra, her eyes aflame with thankful justification. Then I knew that Signore Enrico Persevalli was looking to me for an audience. His Evening of Honour would be a bitter occasion to him if the English were not there to see his performance. I hurried to get ready, I ran through the rain. I knew he would take it badly that it rained on his Evening of Honour.
The peasants had applauded the whole graveyard scene wildly. But at the end of all they got up and crowded to the doors, as if to hurry away: this in spite of Enrico's final feat: he fell backwards, smack down three steps of the throne platform, on to the stage. But planks and braced muscle will bounce, and Signer Amleto bounced quite high again. It was the end of Amleto, and I was glad.
She is schoolmistress, and has a mortal dread of being wrong. 'Si, she cries, wavering, appealing, 'una dramma inglese. 'English! I repeated. 'Yes, an English drama. 'How do you write it? Anxiously, she gets a pencil from her reticule, and, with black-gloved scrupulousness, writes Amleto. 'Hamlet! I exclaim wonderingly.
But to the Venetians this was as impressive and entertaining a Hamlet as could be wished, and four jolly Jack-tars from one of the men-of-war in the lagoon nearly fell out of their private box in their delight, and after each of the six atti Amleto was called several times through the little door in the curtain. Nor did he fail to respond.
What should he choose for his great occasion, this broad, thick-set, ruddy descendant of the peasant proprietors of the plain? No one knew. The title of the play was not revealed. So we were staying at home, it was cold and wet. But the maestra came inflammably on that Thursday evening, and were we not going to the theatre, to see Amleto?
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