JANAUSCHEK is a Bohemian, and with the Bohemian propensity for picking
up things, has picked up the English language. The public is somewhat
divided in its estimate of her skill in speaking English. One-half of
her average audience insists that she speaks better English than
nine-tenths of our native actresses: the other half asserts that she is
at times nearly unintelligible. Neither of these statements necessarily
contradicting the other, they might both be easily true. The fact is,
however, that she speaks English like a foreigner. Mud itself--or a Sun
editorial--could not be plainer than this definition of her exact
proficiency in our unmelodious tongue.
If we go to see her play "Lady Macbeth," we meet evidences at every step
of her want of familiarity with English, or at all events with American
customs. We find her playing at the ACADEMY, and we at once remark that
no one but an unnecessarily foreign actress would dare to awaken the
sepulchral echoes of that dismal tomb. We find, too, that at the very
threshold of the house she defies the one of the most time-honored
institutions of our stage, by employing a pleasant and courteous
door-keeper--instead of the snarling Cerberus who lies in wait at the
doors of other theatres. We find again that she outrages the public by
the presence of decent and civil ushers, who neither insult the male
spectators by their surly impudence, nor annoy the lady visitor by
coloring her train with tobacco juice. So that before the curtain rises
we are prepared to lament over her unfamiliarity with American customs,
and to predict her ignorance of the American, as well as the English
language.
Divers well-meaning persons repeat the dialogue of the earlier scenes of
the play. There is a good deal of dramatic force in the legs of Mr.
MONTGOMERY, who plays "Macbeth," much animation in the feathers which
Mr. STUDLEY'S "Macduff" wears in his hat, and a foreshadowing of ghostly
peculiarities in the solemn stride of Mr. DE VERE'S "Banquo." We listen
to these gentlemen with polite patience, waiting for the appearance of
"Lady Macbeth." When at length that strong-minded female strides across
the stage, we hail her with rapturous applause, and listen for the
strident voice with which the average "Lady Macbeth" reads her husband's
letter.
We don't hear it, however, for JANAUSCHEK reads in a tone as low as that
which a sensible woman who was plotting treason and murder would be apt
to use. Why "Lady Macbeth" should proclaim her deadly purpose at the top
of her lungs is quite incomprehensible, except upon the theory that
stage traditions have confounded the Scotch with the Irish, and that the
"Macbeths" husband and wife--being the typical Fenians of the period,
were accustomed to roar their secrets to the listening world.
Be that as it may, we are constrained to note the actress's
unfamiliarity with the language, as evinced in the tone in which she
reads the letter, and also in the way in which she urges her husband
onward in the path of crime. The usual "Lady Macbeth" "goes for" her
weakminded spouse, and drives him by threats and strong-language to
consent to her little game. JANAUSCHEK, on the contrary, does not raise
a broom-stick, or even her voice, at "Macbeth," but actually coaxes him
to be so good as to kill the king, so that she can bring all her
relations to court, and appoint them surveyors, and internal revenue
collectors, and foreign ministers. This is not the tone of other
actresses in the same part, and we therefore at once charge her
departure from the common standard to her ignorance of English.
We listen with fortitude to the dismal singing of the witches and their
friends in mask and domino. The music, we are told, is "LOCKE'S music."
What is the proper key for LOCKE'S music, is a question which we have
never attempted to solve, but we heartily wish that the key were lost
forever, since by its aid the singers open vistas of musical dreariness
which are disheartening to the last degree. But we sustain our spirits
with the thought of the bloody murder that is coming. Talk as we ill, we
all enjoy our murders, whether we read of them in the _Sun_ and the
_Police Gazette_, or witness them upon the stage.
When JANAUSCHEK comes upon "Macbeth" with his bloody hands, and explains
to him that it is now too late to repent, either of murder or matrimony,
she furnishes us with more instances of her unfamiliarity with the
language. Her night-dress is not at all the sort of thing which an
English-speaking woman would be willing to sleep in. We are confident
upon this point, and we have on our side the testimony of a married man
who has lived four years in Chicago, and has been annually married with
great regularity. If he doesn't know what the average female regards as
the proper thing in night-dresses, it would be difficult to find a man
who does. Then, too, her gross ignorance of English is shown in her back
hair, which is a foot longer than the average hair of previous "Lady
Macbeths," and is as thick and massive as a lion's mane. Wicked and
punnish persons go so far as to call it her mane attraction. They are
wrong, however. JANAUSCHEK does not draw by the force of capillary
attraction. By the bye, did any one ever notice the fact that while a
painter cannot be considered an artist unless he draws well, an actress
may be the greatest of artists and not be able to draw a hundred people?
But this is wandering.
Owing to the imperfections of her English, JANAUSCHEK does not indulge
in drinking from the gilded pasteboard goblets which grace the banquet
scene. She also shows her lingual weakness in the sleep-walking scene.
For instance, when, after having reigned queen of Scotland for several
months, the happy thought of washing her hands strikes her, she commits
the absurdity of scrubbing them with her hair. On the other hand, she
pronounces the words "damned spot" with a, perfection of accent that
constrains us to believe that she must have taken at least a few lessons
in pronunciation from some of the leading members of WALLACK'S company.
Still, her way of walking blindly into the table, and falling over
casual chairs, ought to convince the most skeptical person that her
English accent is not yet what it should be. And in general, her walk
and conversation in this scene demonstrate that even the most carefully
simulated somnambulism may not resemble in all respects the most
approved Oxford pronunciation.
But when we are freed from the depressing influences of the Academical
Crypt, we forget all but our admiration of JANAUSCHEK'S superb acting,
and the exceptional command which she has gained over a language so
vexatious in its villanous consonants as our own. And we express to
every available listener the earnest hope that SKEBACH and FECHTER will
profit by her success, and at once begin the study of English, with the
view of devoting their efforts hereafter to the American stage.