the colour of life- 第6部分

sense。　　They　have　no　habits　to　overcome　by　something　arbitrary　and

intentional。　　Accordingly；　you　will　find　in　the　open…air　theatre　of

many　an　Italian　province；　away　from　the　high　roads；　an　art　of　drama

that　our　capital　cannot　show；　so　high　is　it；　so　fine；　so　simple；　so

complete；　so　direct；　so　momentary　and　impassioned；　so　full　of

singleness　and　of　multitudinous　impulses　of　passion。



Signora　Duse　is　not　different　in　kind　from　these　unrenowned。　　What

they　are；　she　is　in　a　greater　degree。　　She　goes　yet　further；　and　yet

closer。　　She　has　an　exceptionally　large　and　liberal　intelligence。

If　lesser　actors　give　themselves　entirely　to　the　part；　and　to　the

large　moment　of　the　part；　she；　giving　herself；　has　more　to　give。



Add　to　this　nature　of　hers　that　she　stages　herself　and　her　acting

with　singular　knowledge　and　ease；　and　has　her　technique　so

thoroughly　as　to　be　able　to　forget　it　…　for　this　is　the　one　only

thing　that　is　the　better　for　habit；　and　ought　to　be　habitual。　　There

is　but　one　passage　of　her　mere　technique　in　which　she　fails　so　to

slight　it。　　It　is　in　the　long　exchange　of　stove…side　talk　between

Nora　and　the　other　woman　of　〃The　Doll's　House。〃　　Signora　Duse　may

have　felt　some　misgivings　as　to　the　effect　of　a　dialogue　having　so

little　symmetry；　such　half…hearted　feeling；　and；　in　a　word；　so

little　visible　or　audible　drama　as　this。　　Needless　to　say；　the

misgiving　is　not　apparent；　what　is　too　apparent　is　simply　the

technique。　　For　instance；　she　shifts　her　position　with　evident

system　and　notable　skill。　　The　whole　conversation　becomes　a　dance　of

change　and　counterchange　of　place。



Nowhere　else　does　the　perfect　technical　habit　lapse；　and　nowhere　at

all　does　the　habit　of　acting　exist　with　her。



I　have　spoken　of　this　actress's　nationality　and　of　her　womanhood

together。　　They　are　inseparable。　　Nature　is　the　only　authentic　art

of　the　stage；　and　the　Italian　woman　is　natural：　none　other　so

natural　and　so　justified　by　her　nature　as　Eleonora　Duse；　but　all；　as

far　as　their　nature　goes；　natural。　　Moreover；　they　are　women　freer

than　other　Europeans　from　the　minor　vanities。　　Has　any　one　yet　fully

understood　how　her　liberty　in　this　respect　gives　to　the　art　of

Signora　Duse　room　and　action？　　Her　countrywomen　have　no　anxious

vanities；　because；　for　one　reason；　they　are　generally

〃sculpturesque；〃　and　are　very　little　altered　by　mere　accidents　of

dress　or　arrangement。　　Such　as　they　are；　they　are　so　once　for　all；

whereas；　the　turn　of　a　curl　makes　all　the　difference　with　women　of

less　grave　physique。　　Italians　are　not　uneasy。



Signora　Duse　has　this　immunity；　but　she　has　a　far　nobler　deliverance

from　vanities；　in　her　own　peculiar　distance　and　dignity。　　She　lets

her　beautiful　voice　speak；　unwatched　and　unchecked；　from　the　very

life　of　the　moment。　　It　runs　up　into　the　high　notes　of　indifference；

or；　higher　still；　into　those　of　ennui；　as　in　the　earlier　scenes　of

Divorcons；　or　it　grows　sweet　as　summer　with　joy；　or　cracks　and

breaks　outright；　out　of　all　music；　and　out　of　all　control。　　Passion

breaks　it　so　for　her。



As　for　her　inarticulate　sounds；　which　are　the　more　intimate　and　the

truer　words　of　her　meaning；　they；　too；　are　Italian　and　natural。

English　women；　for　instance；　do　not　make　them。　　They　are　sounds　e

bouche　fermee；　at　once　private　and　irrepressible。　　They　are　not

demonstrations　intended　for　the　ears　of　others；　they　are　her　own。

Other　actresses；　even　English；　and　even　American；　know　how　to　make

inarticulate　cries；　with　open　mouth；　Signora　Duse's　noise　is　not　a

cry；　it　is　her　very　thought　audible　…　the　thought　of　the　woman　she

is　playing；　who　does　not　at　every　moment　give　exact　words　to　her

thought；　but　does　give　it　significant　sound。



When　la　femme　de　Claude　is　trapped　by　the　man　who　has　come　in　search

of　the　husband's　secret；　and　when　she　is　obliged　to　sit　and　listen

to　her　own　evil　history　as　he　tells　it　her；　she　does　not　interrupt

the　telling　with　the　outcries　that　might　be　imagined　by　a　lesser

actress；　she　accompanies　it。　　Her　lips　are　close；　but　her　throat　is

vocal。　　None　who　heard　it　can　forget　the　speech…within…speech　of　one

of　these　comprehensive　noises。　　It　was　when　the　man　spoke；　for　her

further　confusion；　of　the　slavery　to　which　she　had　reduced　her

lovers；　she　followed　him；　aloof；　with　a　twang　of　triumph。



If　Parisians　say；　as　they　do；　that　she　makes　a　bad　Parisienne；　it　is

because　she　can　be　too　nearly　a　woman　untamed。　　They　have　accused

her　of　lack　of　elegance　…　in　that　supper　scene　of　La　Dame　aux

Camelias；　for　instance；　taking　for　ill…breeding；　in　her　Marguerite；

that　which　is　Italian　merely　and　simple。　　Whether；　again；　Cyprienne；

in　Divorcons；　can　at　all　be　considered　a　lady　may　be　a　question；　but

this　is　quite　unquestionable　…　that　she　is　rather　more　a　lady；　and

not　less；　when　Signora　Duse　makes　her　a　savage。　　But　really　the

result　is　not　at　all　Parisian。



It　seems　possible　that　the　French　sense　does　not　well　distinguish；

and　has　no　fine　perception　of　that　affinity　with　the　peasant　which

remains　with　the　great　ladies　of　the　old　civilisation　of　Italy；　and

has　so　long　disappeared　from　those　of　the　younger　civilisations　of

France　and　England　…　a　paradox。　　The　peasant's　gravity；　directness；

and　carelessness　…　a　kind　of　uncouthness　which　is　neither　graceless

nor；　in　any　intolerable　English　sense；　vulgar　…　are　to　be　found　in

the　unceremonious　moments　of　every　cisalpine　woman；　however　elect

her　birth　and　select　her　conditions。　　In　Italy　the　lady　is　not　a

creature　described　by　negatives；　as　an　author　who　is　always　right

has　defined　the　lady　to　be　in　England。　　Even　in　France　she　is　not

that；　and　between　the　Frenchwoman　and　the　Italian　there　are　the

Alps。　　In　a　word；　the　educated　Italian　mondaine　is；　in　the　sense

（also　untranslatable）　of　singular；　insular；　and　absolutely　British

usage；　a　Native。　　None　the　less　would　she　be　surprised　to　find

herself　accused　of　a　lack　of　dignity。



As　to　intelligence　…　a　little　intelligence　is　sufficiently　dramatic；

if　it　is　single。　　A　child　doing　one　thing　at　a　time　and　doing　it

completely；　produces　to　the　eye　a　better　impression　of　mental　life

than　one　receives　from　…　well；　from　a　lecturer。







DONKEY　RACES







English　acting　had　for　some　time　past　still　been　making　a　feint　of

running　the　race　that　wins。　　The　retort；　the　interruption；　the　call；

the　reply；　the　surprise；　had　yet　kept　a　spoilt　tradition　of

suddenness　and　life。　　You　had；　indeed；　to　wait　for　an　interruption

in　dialogue　…　it　is　true　you　had　to　wait　for　it；　so　had　the

interrupted　speaker　on　the　stage。　　But　when　the　interruption　came；

it　had　still　a　false　air　of　vivacity；　and　the　waiting　of　the

interrupted　one　was　so　ill　done；　with　so　roving　an　eye　and　such　an

arrest　and　failure　of　convention；　such　a　confession　of　a　blank；　as

to　prove　that　there　remained　a　kind　of　reluctant　and　inexpert　sense

of　movement。　　It　still　seemed　as　though　the　actor　and　the　actress

acknowledged　some　forward　tendency。



Not　so　now。　　The　serious　stage　is　openly　the　scene　of　the　race　that

loses。　　The　donkey　race　is　candidly　the　model　of　the　talk　in　every

tragedy　that　has　a　chance　of　popular　success。　　Who　shall　be　last？

The　hands　of　the　public　are　for　him；　or　for　her。　　A　certain　actress

who　has　〃come　to　the　front　of　her　profession〃　holds；　for　a　time；　the

record　of　delay。　　〃Come　to　the　front；〃　do　they　say？　　Surely　the

front　of　her　profession　must　have　moved　in　retreat；　to　gain　upon　her

tardiness。　　It　must　have　become　the　back　of　her　profession　before

ever　it　came　up　with　her。



It　should　rejoice　those　who　enter　for　this　kind　of　racing　that　the

record　need　never　finally　be　beaten。　　The　possibilities　of　success

are　incalculable。　　The　play　has　perforce　to　be　finished　in　a　night；

it　is　true；　but　the　minor　characters；　the　subordinate　actors；　can　be

made　to　bear　the　burden　of　that　necessity。　　The　principals；　or　those

who　have　come　〃to　the　front　of　their　profession；〃　have　an　almost

unlimited　opportunity　and　liberty　of　lagging。



Besides；　the　competitor　in　a　donkey　race　is　not；　let　it　be　borne　in

mind；　limited　to　the　practice　of　his　own　tediousness。　　Part　of　his

victory　is　to　be　ascribed　to　his　influence　upon　others。　　It　may　be

that　a　determined　actor　…　a　man　of　more　than　common　strength　of　will

…　may　so　cause　his　colleague　to　get　on　（let　us　say　〃get　on；〃　for

everything　in　this　world　is　relative）；　may　so；　then；　compel　the

other　actor；　with　whom　he　is　in　conversation；　to　get　on；　as　to

secure　his　own　final　triumph　by　indirect　means　as　well　as　by　direct。

To　be　plain；　for　the　sake　of　those　unfamiliar　with　the　sports　of　the

village；　the　rider　in　a　donkey　race　may；　and　does；　cudgel　the　mounts

of　his　rivals。



Consider；　therefore；　how　encouraging　the　prospect　really　is。　　The

individual　actor　may　fail　…　in　fact；　he　must。　　Where　two　people　ride

together　on　horseback；　the　married　have　ever　been　warned；　one　must

ride　behind。　　And　when　two　people　are　speaking　slowly　one　must　needs

be　the　slowest。　　Comparative　success　implies　the　comparative

failure。　　But　where　this　actor　or　that　actress　fails；　the　great

cause　of　slowness　profits；　obviously。　　The　record　is　advanced。

Pshaw！　the　word　〃advanced〃　comes　unadvised　to　the　pen。　　It　is

difficult　to　remember　in　what　a　fatuous　theatrical　Royal　Presence

one　is　doing　this　criticism；　and　how　one's　words　should　go

backwards；　without　exception；　in　homage　to　this　symbol　of　a　throne。



It　is　not　long　since　there　took　place　upon　the　principal　stage　in

London　the　most　important　event　in　donkey…racing　ever　known　until

that　first　night。　　A　tragedian　and　a　secondary　actor　of　renown　had　a

duet　together。　　It　was　in　〃The　Dead　Heart。〃　　No　one　who　heard　it　can

possibly　have　yet　forgotten　it。　　The　two　men　used　echoes　of　one

another's　voice；　then　outpaused　each　other。　　It　was　a　contest　so

determined；　so　unrelaxed；　so　deadly；　so　inveterate　that　you　might

have　slept　between　its　encounters。　　You